Ashraf AboArafe
I am often surprised by those who demand my silence whenever I reflect on the Qur’an or offer an opinion on a prophetic saying, as though religion descended exclusively for a selected elite, or as if understanding God’s words requires a stamp of approval from a formal institution.
Religion was revealed for all people, not in an encrypted form decipherable only by experts. God addressed minds, souls, and human consciousness—and urged reflection without attaching that invitation to a degree, a title, or a profession. He said: “Do they not contemplate the Qur’an?” and “A blessed Book We sent down to you so that they may ponder its verses.”
He did not say: “…so that the scholars alone may ponder.”
I know my limits.
I do not claim expertise where expertise is required, nor do I issue legal rulings.
But I do have a mind God gifted me, a soul that seeks, and a heart that responds to the divine text—
a mind shaped by knowledge, critique, and analysis.
When I read the Qur’an, I do not read ink on paper;
I read a call to awareness.
When I contemplate a hadith, I do not treat it as a linguistic idol,
but as a historical and spiritual message that demands context and purpose.
Some compare religion to medicine:
“Just as I don’t argue with you about medicine, don’t differ with us about religion.”
But medicine is an empirical science—its practice requires specialized training.
Religion, however, begins with the human being:
with the question,
the reflection,
the search for meaning.
Turning religion into the private property of a clerical class is the doorway to priesthood—
and the final fortress of stagnation.
A religion that forbids its followers to think, question, or reread the text in light of expanding human awareness,
is a religion misunderstood—
even if its texts are memorized.
History offers countless examples of how new ideas in our societies were met with prohibition and denunciation—
based on fatwas issued by those who claimed exclusive authority over religion.
Yet those very prohibitions later became pillars of daily life.
Coffee, for example, in the 15th century, was banned by some Muslim scholars who likened it to intoxicants or innovations of the devil. Those who drank it were excommunicated.
Today, coffee is a symbol of hospitality and identity.
The printing press was rejected in many Muslim lands for centuries under the pretext that it would “distort the Qur’an” or “spread corruption.”
Today it is the foundation of education, culture, and even religious scholarship.
The same happened with music, women’s education, theatre, and even sports—
all once viewed with suspicion or labeled forbidden,
yet all became engines of enlightenment.
This invites a serious question:
Why does this pattern keep repeating?
Why is the fatwa used to block the new instead of understanding it?
Even in public health, practices based on religious rulings—like the insistence on female circumcision—remained unquestioned for years, despite overwhelming evidence of its harm.
And now, in the twenty-first century, in a country with access to all knowledge and science, a proposed law appears in Egypt to criminalize voices that dare approach religious topics without “specialization”—
as though thinking were a crime, and reflection a trespass.
I do not claim to possess “the truth.”
But I do search for it.
And if reflection is an accusation,
then blessed be the accusation—
so long as I read with a mind,
contemplate with a soul,
and honor the sacred text without closing the door to understanding.
A young dreamer once sent me a message about this very topic—
a reflection so profound that I share it here:
How do people know God?
- The doctor knows God when he contemplates the orchestration of life in the body—its harmony, its resistance to death.
- The engineer knows God through the architecture of the mountains, the seas, and the laws that never fail.
- The physicist knows God through the laws of motion, matter, and time.
- The chemist knows God through the reactions that turn inert elements into life.
- The astronomer knows God in the vastness of the cosmos and the precision of its orbits.
- The mathematician knows God in the pure logic that governs the universe.
- The biologist knows God through evolution, biodiversity, and the breathtaking equilibrium of ecosystems.
- The psychologist knows God through the human mind, consciousness, suffering, and the inner struggle toward guidance.
All scientists perceive the greatness of the Creator through the lens of their disciplines.
When they read the Qur’an, they find affirmation in its verses.
Each sees God in their own field—
and the totality of these insights allows humanity to know its Creator more deeply.
As for the “position” of the religious cleric—
not the person—
it is often an unneeded mediator inserted between the human mind and its God.
A vestige of old authority trying to impose itself on the path of knowledge,
demanding deference,
and condemning those who refuse.
Yes—religious research centers and scholarly institutions are necessary,
for clarity, reference, and scholarship.
But they are not guardians of people’s minds.
They are lights of explanation—
not walls of prohibition.
The reader has every right to agree or disagree.
Without knowledge, we cannot know God, nor understand His signs:
“We will show them Our signs in the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth.” — Fussilat 53
