Translating The Qur’an: The Quest To Understand The Divine Intent

By Dr. Javed Akhatar, New Age Islam

23 August 2023

(Can a person, with his limited mental capacity, claim to have understood God’s Mind in the same way that God wills to convey it?)

This is the English translation of Professor Mushirul Haq’s article, “Tarjuma-e-Qur’an-Mansha-e Khudawandi ko Samajhne ki Insani Koshish,” which he delivered on October 30, 1987, in Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi.

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Within the realm of sacred texts, the Qur’an stands apart due to its assertion of being the direct word of God. Its adherents have consistently asserted without reservation that every single letter of it remains unchanged from its original revelation to Prophet Muhammad. While some have occasionally questioned this assertion, what truly matters is that the claim has been steadfastly upheld by those who made it. It is a unique phenomenon as no other religious group makes such a resolute declaration about their scriptures. This holds profound significance.

To assert that the Quran is the divine word is essentially stating that those who engage with it establish a direct connection with God and engage in a dialogue with Him. According to historical accounts, Prophet Muhammad advised believers to focus so intensely on the presence of God during their prayers that they could envision Him as if they were seeing Him with their own eyes, and no extraordinary imagination is necessary to comprehend this level of concentration. However, achieving this state requires a deep comprehension of what God communicates through the Quran and how one responds to this divine guidance. Without actively striving to attain this level of comprehension, merely proclaiming that the Quran is God’s word may be seen as making a claim without fully realizing its profound implications.

The significance of human endeavour to comprehend the Word of God gains heightened importance when coupled with the concept that the Quran is not only the Word of God but also eternal and transcendent beyond the confines of time and space. While the Quran was indeed revealed during a specific historical period and in the language of a particular people, its intended audience encompassed the entire world throughout the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries, and beyond. Had God not urged people to engage in contemplation and reflection upon this divine revelation, the Quran might have been relegated to a status akin to numerous other sacred texts, primarily seen as objects for reading and veneration. However, this was not the primary aim of the Quran's revelation.

From the Quran's perspective, its revelation serves as a reminder to humanity of the covenant established with God on the day of creation when God inquired if He was not their Lord, and humanity affirmed His lordship. For this reason, if for no other, it becomes imperative for humanity to ascertain the true meaning of the Word of God.

Indeed, words serve as a medium for expressing the contents of one's thoughts to others. Nevertheless, words devoid of meaning alone cannot establish effective communication between two or more individuals. Consequently, the significance of meaning is crucial for communication. It would be inaccurate to claim that meaning is only important when the language of the speaker differs from that of the listener. In reality, meaning holds significance regardless of linguistic compatibility between the speaker and the listener. This is because words act as a conduit for conveying one's thoughts to the minds of others; it is meaning that transforms abstract concepts into tangible ideas.

However, even with the importance of meaning, there remains the possibility that two or more people might interpret the meaning of a statement differently. Precision, it must be acknowledged, is not always achievable in verbal communication. Therefore, when I assert that I have comprehended your message, I am not asserting that I have fully penetrated your thoughts and grasped every nuance. Instead, I am affirming that your words have left a certain impression on my mind, one that closely resembles the image you intended to convey. However, this mental image may not be an exact replica of the one you had in your own mind.

Indeed, numerous factors come into play when receiving a message accurately and completely. Just as in mechanical transmission where the receiving device must be tuned to the same frequency as the transmission, mental transmission also necessitates certain prerequisites. For example, the individuals involved should ideally possess intellectual parity or at least be close to it. The smaller the gap in intellectual understanding between them, the greater the likelihood that the received mental image will closely approximate the original. This does not imply that the received image will necessarily diverge from the transmitted one; it merely suggests that the received image, while similar in essence, may exhibit variations in detail.

The statement above holds even truer in the context of communication between God and humanity, where humans try to decipher the intended message from God. To illustrate this, let's consider an example from the lives of those who were the first to receive the Quran. Since not everyone possessed the same level of intellectual insight, they often had differing interpretations of the divine message. It is reported that one morning, the Caliph Umar told his companions that a particular verse, which can be roughly translated into English as follows, had kept him awake all night:

Would any of you desire to possess a garden filled with palm trees and vines, with rivers flowing beneath it, and various fruits of all sorts? Then, when old age befalls him and he has weak offspring, a scorching whirlwind strikes the garden, and it is entirely consumed by fire.

After reciting the verse, the Caliph requested those around him to elucidate their interpretations of it. For most, it was a straightforward depiction of the common occurrences they witnessed daily: human life, material possessions, natural disasters, and so forth. However, for the young Abdullah ibn Abbas, one of the earliest Quranic commentators, this verse conveyed a divine admonition aimed at wealthy and virtuous believers whom God intended to test. In his view, these individuals would be tempted by the devil, leading them into sinful behaviour, ultimately causing their virtuous deeds to turn to ashes.

Caliph Umar reportedly found satisfaction in Ibn-i-Abbas's interpretation. However, can we conclude that by endorsing Ibn-i-Abbas's interpretation, Umar implied that those who adhered to the surface meaning of the verse had misunderstood it? Or can we assert that Ibn-i-Abbas's interpretation was definitive? Such judgments cannot be made, as we lack the ability to perceive the precise message that God intended to convey through this verse. In reality, both interpretations held merit, with the disparity arising from their respective capacities for comprehension.

In the example provided earlier, the commentators used the same language as the Quran. The complexity arises when individuals, armed with a proficiency in the Arabic language, attempt to convey the divine message in a foreign tongue. In such instances, their personal preferences for selecting suitable words to convey the intricacies of the Quranic text become quite evident. To illustrate this point, let's consider the English translation of the Quranic phrase "Bismillah Arrahman Arrahim" as rendered by six contemporary translators. These translators include Marmaduke Pickthal, Muhammad Asad, Abdullah Yusuf Ali, Sayyid Abul Ala Maududi, A.J. Arberry, and Mahmud Zayid.

My selection of these particular names is not arbitrary; it is intentional. These six individuals represent five distinct categories. Asad and Pickthal were raised within the Christian and Jewish traditions but later chose to embrace Islam. Abdullah Yusuf Ali and Maulana Maududi belong to the Indo-Islamic tradition, although Maulana Maududi holds a unique position as an Islamic thinker, a distinction not shared by Yusuf Ali. Additionally, it's worth noting that the English translation attributed to Maulana Maududi is not his own work. His Urdu Tafhim-ul-Quran was translated into English by a person named Muhammad Akbar under Maulana's guidance. Consequently, it is essentially a translation of a translation.

The fifth translator, Mahmud Zayid, holds significance in that his work is not solely his own translation effort. In collaboration with a "Committee of Scholars," whose names are listed in the introductory pages of his publication titled "The Quran: An English Translation of the Meaning of the Quran" (published by Dar Al-Choura, Beirut), Zayid meticulously reviewed and revised N.J. Dawood's translation of the Quran. This revised translation has received the endorsement of both the Supreme Muslim Sunni and Shia Councils of the Republic of Lebanon. Therefore, Zayid's translation transcends individuality and acquires an "official" status, at least in the eyes of those who place value on the Council's endorsement.

The final translator in the group I have chosen is Arberry, who was born and remained a Christian throughout his life. With this brief introduction to the translators, let us now delve into their respective choices of words for interpreting the phrase "Bismillah Arrahman Arrahim."

Pickthal, in his work "The Meaning of the Glorious Quran," translates it as "In the name of Allah, the beneficent, the merciful." Muhammad Asad, in his book "The Message of the Quran," conveys it as "In the name of God, the most gracious, the dispenser of grace." Abdullah Yusuf Ali, in his publication "The Meaning of the Glorious Quran," phrases it as "In the name of God, most gracious, most merciful." Maulana Maududi, in "The Meaning of the Quran," renders it as "In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the merciful." Arberry, in "The Koran," translates it as "In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate." Mahmud Zayid's version reads, "In the name of Allah, the compassionate, the merciful."

We are familiar with "Bismillah Arrahman Arrahim," which consists of just three pivotal words: Allah, Arrahman, and Arrahim. However, even these three words have been translated into English, as demonstrated earlier. Regarding the term Allah, the translators are evenly divided: Pickthal, Maududi, and Zayid have preserved the Arabic word Allah, whereas Asad, Yusuf Ali, and Arberry have opted for its English counterpart, God.

When it comes to selecting the English equivalent for the word "Arrahman," all the translators exhibit variations: Pickthal chooses "The Beneficent," Yusuf Ali opts for "most gracious," and Asad uses "the most gracious." Arberry translates it as "merciful," while Maududi and Zayid render it as "compassionate." As for the translation of "Arrahman," Pickthal, Zayid, and Maulana Maududi use "merciful." Asad chooses "dispenser of grace," Arberry goes with "compassionate," and Abdullah Yusuf Ali selects "most merciful."

When we organize these various interpretations of "Arrahman," it becomes evident that what Arberry refers to as "merciful" corresponds to "Arrahim" as per Pickthal, Zayid, and Maulana Maududi. Conversely, their use of "Arrahman" aligns with Arberry's "Arrahim."

Another noteworthy aspect to consider is whether Allah should always be referred to by this specific personal name, regardless of the language we are using to address Him. Pickthal, Maududi, and Zayid, by retaining the Arabic word Allah in their English Quran translations, seem to imply that it is untranslatable. Conversely, Asad, Abdullah Yusuf Ali, and Arberry, through their use of the word God instead of Allah, appear to align with those who believe that when translating the Quran into a foreign language, it may be appropriate to introduce Allah using words that are commonly understood by speakers of that language as the most fitting equivalent for Allah.

The issue at hand goes beyond this point. What does the term "Arrahman" signify? Is it merely an adjective used to describe Allah, or does it also serve as a distinct personal name for the same divine entity referred to as Allah in the Quran? From the provided translations, it seems that all translators unanimously view "Arrahman" as nothing more than an adjectival descriptor. However, there are Quranic verses that compel us to consider a more nuanced perspective. For instance, Maulana Sayyid Sulaiman Nadwi, in his Urdu book "Arzul Quran" (volume II, 4th edition, Azamgarh, 1956, pages 232-233), has asserted that "Arrahman" also serves as a personal name for Allah. His argument rests on the premise that while the term "Allah" was well-known to most Arabs in the northern part of Arabia in pre-Islamic times, the people in the southern region, particularly those influenced by Judeo-Christian traditions, addressed the divine entity as "Arrahman." Since the usage of "Arrahman" was not widespread among the pagan Arabs of the north, they were taken aback when the Quran instructed them to prostrate before "Arrahman." This led them to believe that the Prophet was introducing a different deity instead of Allah. Consequently, when the Quran commanded, "Prostrate before Ar-Rahman" (Quran 25:60), they did not readily comply and inquired, "Who is this Ar-Rahman?"

While translating this verse into English, Arberry, Abdullah Yusuf Ali, Pickthal, and Zayid opted to include "Allah" or "God" in parentheses before the English translation of "Arrahman." If we were to retranslate their English versions back into Arabic, it would read in English as follows: "And when they are told: 'Prostrate before Ar-Rahman (who is Allah),' they respond, 'Who is this Ar-Rahman?'"

As for Asad's translation, I cannot confirm his treatment of this verse as I do not have access to the remaining volumes of his translation at the moment. In contrast, Maulana Maududi perceived "Ar-Rahman" solely as an adjectival name and rendered it as, "When it is said to them, 'Prostrate yourselves before Merciful,' they retort, 'What is the Merciful?'" However, it's worth noting that this might be an isolated case, as Maulana Maududi consistently includes "Allah" in parentheses whenever "Arrahman" appears elsewhere in the Quran.

As a side note, in the English translation of the Urdu rendering of Bismillah-Irrahman-Irrahim by Maulana Nadwi, found in his aforementioned book (p. 233), it reads as follows: "In the name of God ('Khuda'), whose other name is Ar Rahman and who is Merciful..." Nonetheless, it's important to highlight that none of the aforementioned translators align with Maulana Sulaiman Nadwi's approach in this regard.

This does not mean that the translators mentioned above can be accused of selecting incorrect or inappropriate words for the three key Quranic terms mentioned earlier. However, the distinction is quite evident. This is because, as mentioned earlier, when translating any adjectival word, achieving absolute precision is nearly impossible; one can only come close to it.

The point becomes somewhat clearer with another example when we examine another group of five key words that appear in verse 129 of chapter 2. This was the occasion when Prophet Abraham, after completing the construction of the Kaaba, prayed to God, saying: 'O Lord, raise up from among them a Messenger (Rasul) who shall recite Your Revelation (Ayat) to them and teach them the Book (Al-Kitab) and wisdom (Al-Hikmah) and purify their lives.' (This is from Maulana Maududi).

To understand how the translators mentioned above have attempted to convey the state of mind of Prophet Abraham during his prayer, we will analyse their choice of English words for key Quranic terms. It's worth noting that they differ in their selection of words, but the substance of the prayer remains consistent. The difference lies solely in their choice of wording.

As we can observe, the Quranic verse mentioned above contains five crucial terms: (1) Rasul (2) Ayat (3) Al-Kitab (4) Al-Hikmah, and (5) Tazkiyyah (from which the phrase Yuzakkihim is derived). It is both enlightening and informative to examine how these translators have interpreted the meaning of these words. Asad, Yusuf Ali, and Zayid interpret Rasul as an apostle, while Pickthal, Maududi, and Arberry understand him as a messenger.

Evidently, "messenger" and "apostle" might seem synonymous, but it's crucial to remember that "apostle" carries a religious significance within the context of the Biblical tradition, while "messenger" lacks this association. According to both the "Oxford Dictionary" and the "Collins Gem Dictionary of the Bible," an apostle is defined as a messenger, specifically one of the twelve individuals sent by Christ to preach the Gospel. Conversely, "messenger" does not carry such religious connotations; it's a non-theological term applicable to any courier. Just as God can send a messenger, so can you or I, but we do not send apostles. Consequently, unless the context explicitly demands it, we cannot necessarily interpret the term "messenger" as referring to a divinely commissioned courier.

In the Quran, the term 'Rasul' is not typically employed in its conventional sense. An emissary dispatched by a non-divine entity is not commonly referred to as a 'Rasul.' Instead, in such instances, the Quran employs the term 'Mursal,' derived from the verb 'Irsal,' to denote a messenger sent by either God or another entity. In these cases, the specific sender's identity is determined by the surrounding context.

Now, let's revisit our discussion concerning the suitable English equivalent for the term 'Rasul.' We observed that all six translators were evenly split between using the words 'apostle' and 'messenger' for the term 'Rasul.' Whether they were aware of the subtle distinction between 'apostle' and 'messenger' when selecting them for 'Rasul' remains a matter of speculation. However, they appear to be fairly certain about one aspect. Were Abraham's prayers aimed at the arrival of just any 'Rasul,' 'apostle,' or 'messenger,' or was he perhaps intuitively alluding to a specific individual yet to come? Muslim Quran commentators have consistently asserted that the anticipated 'Rasul' was none other than Prophet Muhammad. The translators mentioned above, through their choice of English words for 'Rasul,' seem to align, whether consciously or unconsciously, with these commentators' perspective. This alignment becomes evident when considering their translation of another Quranic verse, specifically, "And Muhammad is but a Rasul" (3:144). In contrast to the previously quoted verse about Abraham's prayers (2:129), in this verse, 'Rasul' is explicitly used for Prophet Muhammad. Strikingly, all six translators employ the same English equivalents, 'apostle' or 'messenger,' as they did when rendering the term 'Rasul' in 2:129. This implies that Prophet Abraham, while praying for the advent of a Prophet, may have been, whether consciously or unconsciously, referring to the person of Prophet Muhammad, who was yet to appear.

Now, let's examine the term 'Ayat' and explore the English words chosen by the translators. Once again, their choices are not uniform. Pickthall, Maulana Maududi, and Mahmud Zayid interpret it as 'revelation,' while Arberry and Yusuf Ali render it as 'sign,' and for Asad, it becomes 'message.' Regarding the third term, 'Al-Kitab,' Maududi, Zayid, and Arberry describe it as 'The Book,' whereas Pickthall and Yusuf Ali opt for 'Scripture,' and Asad uses 'Revelation.' In essence, what 'Ayat' is in English to Pickthall, Maududi, and Zayid, is equivalent to 'Al-Kitab' in Asad's translation.

Just a short while ago, we hinted that the translators' selection of the term 'Rasul' might imply their support for the notion that Prophet Abraham, through his prayer, was prophesying the arrival of Prophet Muhammad. If this holds true, it raises the question of which book he was referring to. At the start of Chapter 2 in the Quran, God proclaims: "Zalik Al-Kitab" (This is the Book or This Book). Quranic commentators generally contend that in this verse, 'Al-Kitab' signifies 'Al-Quran.' If we examine the choice of words, it can be deduced that, with the exception of Asad and Yusuf Ali, all the aforementioned translators seem to interpret Abraham's reference to 'Al-Kitab' in his prayer as denoting 'Al-Quran,' as their word choices in both instances align.

When translating the term "Al-Hikmah," all of them have opted for the word "wisdom." However, once again, there is a divergence in their translations of the phrase "Yuzakkihim," which is derived from "Tazkiyah." They have selected words such as "growth," "sanctity," and "purity" to convey the essence of "Tazkiyah." In the fundamental concept of "Tazkiyah," the notions of growth, purification, and sanctification are inherently present.

In this context, Asad and Pickthall have both chosen "growth" as their translation, but with a distinction: Asad emphasizes growth in purity ("...cause them to grow in purity"), whereas Pickthall emphasizes growth in number ("...shall make them grow"). Arberry, Mahmud Zayid, and Maulana Maududi have all settled on the term "purification" for "Tazkiah," although they vary in their specific interpretations. Arberry suggests that the expected Rasul's mission was to "purify them," without specifying what exactly needed purification. Mahmud Zayid, on the other hand, specifies that the Rasul was to "purify them from sin." According to Maulana Maududi, the messenger was to "purify their lives." It's worth noting that one may question whether Maududi is referring to spiritual or worldly life, and his explanatory note clarifies that it encompasses "purification of beliefs, ideas, habits, customs, culture, politics, in short, every aspect of life."

Abdullah Yusuf Ali stands alone in translating the phrase "Yuzakkihim" as "sanctify them." However, according to Yusuf Ali, the act of sanctification was fulfilled thousands of years later when Prophet Muhammad cleansed the Kaaba by removing 360 idols from its precincts.

What we have observed thus far clearly illustrates that when translating, a translator's selection of specific words is influenced by a multitude of factors, and these choices have profound consequences. It underscores that, no matter how precise a translation strives to be, it will inevitably remain an approximation of the original text. The challenge of finding an exact equivalent for divine words led Muslims to concur that the Quran should not be recited in translation during prayers. Whether or not one comprehends the Arabic Quran, adherence to the original text is paramount. This, perhaps, explains why, for a considerable period, people hesitated to translate the Quran into other languages.

Historically, it is recounted that Shah Waliullah, a renowned Indian scholar of the 18th century (1703-1762), faced vehement opposition, including threats to his life, when he first translated the Quran into Persian in India. It is now suggested that this opposition stemmed from the self-serving and hidden motives of his adversaries. Allegedly, those against the translation of the Quran were not proponents of knowledge expansion. Instead, they selfishly feared losing their influence over the masses if they could comprehend what they were reading.

However, in light of our previous discussions, such accusations appear unsubstantiated, as the Quran's contents were not beyond the reach of Shah Waliullah's contemporaries. They had access to various Quranic commentaries (Tafsir) written in both Arabic and Persian by Indian scholars. The quantity of Tafsirs produced by Indian Ulema in these languages by that time was by no means insignificant. If those opposing translation were genuinely concerned about knowledge dissemination, they should have voiced objections when these tafsirs were being authored. Strangely, they did not.

The crux of the matter, it seems, was the act of translation itself. Those who resisted the idea of translating the Quran appeared to be convinced that the human intellect was incapable of finding an exact equivalent for divine words, hence their objection. Conversely, figures like Shah Waliullah and those aligned with him embarked on the endeavour to, as faithfully as possible, fathom the divine intent. Ultimately, they prevailed, for the human mind is inherently curious and eternally yearns to unravel the mysteries of the unknown.

In the context of the Quran, this yearning was not limited solely to individuals whose native language was not Arabic; even the Arab-speaking community expressed a similar desire. They did not require translations, so they authored commentaries in order to satisfy humanity's thirst for understanding God's intended message. However, they held differing interpretations when it came to determining the precise message God intended to impart.

For instance, consider the closing lines of the first chapter of the Quran, Al-Fatiha. In this passage, when humans pray to God for guidance on the right path, they beseech Him: "Ihdinas-Sirat al-Mustaqim. Sirat al lazina Anamta Alaihim Ghair-il-Magh Zub-I Alaihim Wa La-Zzalllin." These verses have been interpreted in two distinct ways: Some, such as Baidawi and Zamakhshari in earlier times, and Maududi and Yusuf Ali in more recent times, have taken the phrase "Ghair-i-lmaghzub…" as the qualifying clause for "Anamta Alayhim," and have understood it as follows: "Show us the straight way, the way of those whom Thou hast blessed; who have not incurred Thy wrath, nor gone astray." Conversely, Bahawi and Ibn-i-Kathir from the past, and Pickthal, Arberry, Zayid, and Asad in our time, believe that this verse describes two groups of people: one who have received God's blessings and the other who have faced divine wrath. Thus, according to their interpretation, humans are praying for God to reveal the straight path of those who were favoured, and not the path of those who incurred divine anger and went astray. Both translations are considered valid, but it's important to acknowledge that human language choices may not capture precisely what God intended when revealing this specific verse.

There is another matter that requires our attention: In the Quran, specific words or phrases are enclosed in parentheses by placing three dots on both sides of them. In Quranic terminology, this is referred to as "MuAnaqah," signifying "embracing." In these instances, the words within the parentheses can be either affixed or prefixed, leading to two distinct interpretations of the statement. As an illustration, let's examine the opening verse of chapter two: "Zalika Al-Kitabu La Raiba Fih Hudan Lilmuttaqin," which translates to "This is the Book in which indeed there is guidance for pious people." Since "fih" has been parenthesized, the verse can be translated in two ways: either as "This is the Book in which there is no doubt. It is guidance for the God-fearing," or as "This is the Book indeed. In it, there is guidance for the God-fearing." Pickthal, Zayid, and Arberry have chosen the former translation, while Abdullah Yusuf Ali and Maulana Maududi have favoured the latter interpretation. Asad, however, has rendered the translation in such a manner that it can be understood in either way. He states: “This Divine Scripture is, without a doubt, a guidance for...”.

Once more, it's essential to observe that all the translators have faithfully conveyed the intended meaning to the best of their abilities. Nevertheless, the variations among their translations are notably distinct.

When endeavoring to translate such verses, it's crucial to bear in mind the fundamental distinction in how humans perceive time, which is divided into three segments: the past, the present, and the future. Human understanding of the present is relatively clear and certain. When determining the past, reliance must be placed on information provided by those for whom the past was their present. As for the future, it remains speculative and based on what is known from the past and present.

However, for God, time is boundless, and His knowledge transcends any specific moment in time because He Himself embodies Time. To suggest that God's knowledge of time is constrained by past, present, and future is, in fact, sacrilegious. In reality, when God imparts knowledge of the past, speaks of the present, or foretells the future in the Quran, He does so with a comprehensive understanding that encompasses all of Time. Therefore, it should not be surprising that God sometimes describes the Future in terms of the Past or the Present in the Quran.

In contrast, human comprehension of divine statements is restricted by their borrowed knowledge of the past, their personal awareness of the present, and their conjectural approximations of the future. Consequently, despite an inherent desire to fathom the divine mind, humans can seldom attain complete precision. The more knowledge they acquire, the closer they come to grasping the meaning of God's words, but it remains an approximation. Nonetheless, this quest for understanding will persist because the human longing to comprehend the divine mind is endless.

If this scenario arises, we ought to contemplate the matter of whether it is reasonable to prohibit or destroy a translation or commentary of the Quran simply because the translator or commentator has interpreted the divine message differently from what we consider the right interpretation to be. Let's take a moment to reflect on this.

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Javed Akhatar is Assistant Professor (Contractual), Department of Islamic Studies, Jamia Millia Islamia

 

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