Recently, I came across several events organized by Majlisul Mufassirin in different parts of the country through Facebook. It was heartening to see them: large gatherings, considerable enthusiasm, and the presence of a substantial number of Islamic scholars. Taken together, the scenes appeared quite encouraging.
It seemed as though a wave of Qur’anic exegesis had swept across the country, leaving us with little reason to worry about the state of tafsir (Qur’anic exegesis).
Indeed, if we were to take stock of the situation, we might discover that the number of mufassirun (scholars of Qur’anic exegesis) has reached such a level that adding the word “genuine” before mufassir may soon become a distinct academic necessity!
Of course, gatherings, conferences, and large assemblies of mufassirun are not problems in themselves. On the contrary, the growing public interest in the study of tafsir is undoubtedly a welcome development.
The question, however, lies elsewhere: How easily have we made the title of mufassir attainable?
Knowing the translation of a few Qur’anic verses, quoting a handful of statements from a tafsir work, or explaining verses from the pulpit are all useful activities. Yet none of these, by itself, automatically qualifies someone as a mufassir.
If we conflate explaining the Qur’an with engaging in the scholarly discipline of tafsir, becoming a mufassir becomes remarkably easy. All one needs is a microphone!
Tafsir, however, is a systematic and profound scholarly discipline. It requires an integrated command of Arabic language and balaghah (rhetoric), nahw (syntax), sarf (morphology), asbab al-nuzul (the occasions of revelation), Hadith, usul al-tafsir (the principles of Qur’anic exegesis), nasikh wa mansukh (abrogating and abrogated rulings), usul al-fiqh (the principles of Islamic jurisprudence), ‘aqidah (creed), fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), qira’at (the canonical modes of Qur’anic recitation), and a thorough familiarity with the vast intellectual heritage of earlier mufassirun.
We must at least ask ourselves how far the practice of tafsir can genuinely be pursued without a comprehensive grounding in these disciplines.
We should occasionally remind ourselves that there is a considerable scholarly distance between knowing the “meaning” of a verse and possessing the qualifications required to undertake its tafsir.
Much the same situation seems to prevail in the case of muftis.
One might imagine that some invisible census bureau is regularly monitoring the rate at which the number of muftis is increasing in the country! Whether a mathematical formula has already been discovered whereby every increase in the number of scholars automatically produces an equal increase in the number of muftis remains unknown.
Ask a question, and an answer is readily available. Simple questions, certainly—but even complex ones. Contemporary economics, modern medicine, complicated financial transactions, state legislation, international relations: whatever the subject, there seems to be no shortage of confidence in providing an answer.
At times, one gets the impression that the answer has reached the respondent before the question itself!
Yet ifta (the issuance of Islamic legal opinions) is not merely the art of providing quick answers. It requires prolonged study of fiqh and fatawa, rigorous engagement with the principles of jurisprudence, familiarity with the positions of the various madhhabs (schools of Islamic jurisprudence), an understanding of the relative strength of evidences, an accurate assessment of real-world circumstances, and, above all, scholarly caution.
An ijazah or formal qualification in ifta is undoubtedly important. But a qualification may open the door; only scholarly maturity teaches a person how to navigate the room beyond it.
Unfortunately, we sometimes encounter individuals who possess formal qualifications in ifta but have had relatively little sustained and intensive engagement with fiqh and fatawa. Yet their confidence in issuing legal opinions on even the most difficult questions appears virtually limitless.
The problem here is not merely the possibility of issuing an incorrect answer. Being unaware of the limits of one's own knowledge is itself a serious scholarly failing.
Perhaps one of the defining characteristics of a genuine scholar is precisely that he does not know the answer to every question. Rather, he knows which questions he cannot answer, which require further research, and which are best approached by saying Allahu a‘lam (Allah knows best).
The ability to say “I do not know” is itself a sign of knowledge.
And here we encounter a deeper crisis within our scholarly community as a whole.
It is becoming increasingly difficult to find scholars capable of addressing complex Shari‘ah-related issues who possess, simultaneously, profound disciplinary knowledge, a research-oriented mindset, analytical ability, and a clear understanding of contemporary realities.
Looking at the Alia educational tradition, we find that the knowledge of many individuals trained in religious studies remains rather limited in scope and, in many cases, has not reached the level of depth and mastery that the disciplines require.
There are certainly exceptions, and this observation is made with due respect for them. Nevertheless, the overall number of scholars who have acquired extensive knowledge and mastery in various branches of Islamic learning through prolonged study and research remains far below what one would hope for.
The Qawmi tradition, on the other hand, faces a different manifestation of the same crisis.
There are undoubtedly scholars within the Qawmi community who possess profound knowledge and extensive experience in Shari‘ah, fiqh, Hadith, and the Arabic language. However, the number of scholars who are equally well-informed about contemporary systems of governance, law, economics, science, technology, sociology, international relations, and modern epistemology remains comparatively small.
As a result, the two educational traditions appear to have developed two different forms of incompleteness. On the one hand, there is familiarity with modern knowledge but insufficient depth in the traditional Islamic disciplines. On the other, there is mastery of the traditional disciplines but limited familiarity with the language and realities of the modern world.
What we need, therefore, is a scholar who can read both the pages of the classical books and the pages of the contemporary age.
Otherwise, the danger is rather amusing: when addressing modern problems, one person may simply quote classical books; when attempting to resolve older problems, another may cite modern theories. Yet neither may fully understand the context in which the knowledge being cited should be applied!
It is therefore time to move beyond taking satisfaction in statistics alone: How many mufassirun are there? How many muftis? How many scholars?
Instead, we should be asking:
- How many have undertaken genuinely deep and sustained study?
- How many have conducted serious research?
- How many can move beyond the boundaries of their own disciplines and engage meaningfully with other fields of knowledge?
- How many can analyse complex contemporary problems in a manner consistent with the Shari‘ah?
- And, most importantly, how many possess the scholarly humility to acknowledge the limits of their own knowledge?
After all, we face no shortage of titles in the marketplace of scholarly identities. The real shortage, perhaps, lies in the marketplace of competence.
We have mufassirun, muftis, public speakers, and researchers—alhamdulillah (all praise is due to Allah).
Yet one sometimes wonders whether the profound, mature, and multidimensional scholarly character that ought to underpin all these identities is becoming increasingly scarce.
Numbers are certainly a source of satisfaction. But in the realm of knowledge, quantity can never substitute for quality.
An assembly of a hundred mufassirun may be an impressive sight. Yet the profound and rigorous exegetical work of a single genuinely qualified mufassir may be more valuable than the entire gathering.
And a single measured, research-based, and responsible declaration of Allahu a‘lam may embody far greater scholarly excellence than a hundred fatwas issued with unwarranted confidence.