Commentary

The root s-b-ḥ, in its first sense, is the motion of one launched into a fluid space that does not hold him back. The swimmer pushes the water with his hands and passes through. And the stars swim in their orbit and no barrier comes across them. From it, tasbīḥ: keeping the name clear of anything defective clinging to it. The verb is on the pattern faʿʿala, with the doubling of the middle radical: an intensity that makes the keeping-clear continuous, and not a word said and then broken off.

And the reader, as he utters this verb in his mouth, finds himself commanded to let the name run in his throat as water runs: not holding it back by a conception he already knows, not fastening to it an image he calls up from memory. Tasbīḥ, in this sense, is the acknowledgement that the One whose name you utter is wider than every figure your tongue could catch hold of.

The verb falls upon "the name," and not upon "your Nurturer" directly. And there is a fine indication in that: what the uttering encloses is the sign, not the named. And the name, in its root s-m-w, is a banner raised above the thing, pointing to it without coming down into it. So when the reader is commanded to keep the name clear, he is commanded to keep clear what his mouth can bear: the sign. As for the Named, He has veiled Himself by His height before the speaker was commanded anything at all.

And in "your Nurturer," the yāʾ dropped in the annexation brings the Nurturer near to the one commanded. The root r-b-b is a clinging nurture that grows by what passes over it. The One who commands the tasbīḥ is not far from the one who performs it; He is the One who nurtures him, in act, in the very act of tasbīḥ. And among the explicit places in the Book where "name" and "Nurturer" are joined: ﴿وَاذْكُرِ اسْمَ رَبِّكَ بُكْرَةً وَأَصِيلًا﴾, "and recall the name of your Nurturer, at morning and at decline." A recalling tied to two times, and a keeping-clear tied to a space without obstruction.

The word is a closing, and the Surah turns upon it. The root ʿ-l-w is a height that branches into two faces: height of place, and height of rank. And the elative pattern afʿal denies that anything set beside it stands at its rank. Not "high" only, but "highest": a height that lets fall every attempt to bring it near by what is beneath it.

And this height is what makes the tasbīḥ necessary. Were the name to point to what can be seized in a mental image, the reader would not be commanded to keep it clear. But it points to the Most-High, and what is higher, no word encloses. So tasbīḥ here is the tongue's confession of its own limit, and not a mere form of devotion. And whoever has kept the name clear has known that its Named is outside every grasp.

The Surah opens with a command to keep clear: "Sanctify the name of your Nurturer, the Most-High." Sabbiḥ, on the pattern faʿʿil, from s-b-ḥ, is the motion of one launched into a fluid space that does not hold him: the swimmer passes through the water, the stars swim in their orbit. Tasbīḥ lets the name run in the heart as what runs without obstruction runs, a continuous keeping-clear. And what is commanded to be kept clear is not the Named directly but "the name of your Nurturer": the name, from s-m-w, is a raised sign that points to the named and does not enclose Him. What the mouth can bear is the sign; as for the Named, He has veiled Himself by His height before the speaker was commanded anything. "Your Nurturer," from r-b-b, is a clinging nurture that grows by what it tends, near to the one who sanctifies and not far. Then "the Most-High," from ʿ-l-w, on the elative pattern, refuses to be measured against anything beneath it: not height of place only, but height of rank, which lets fall every attempt at enclosing. The name discloses, and the Named is higher. The Surah is named by the last word of its first verse and closes on the first scrolls: an arc, from the Most-High to the earliest.

Two Readings

The two readings do not conflict. The first preserves the devotional form; the second restores the image of flowing motion the root carries. This book chooses the additional listening.

Commentary

The root kh-l-q turns, in Arabic, on a measure taken first and then a bringing into being upon that measure. From it comes the Arabs' saying khalaqa al-naʿl, said of shaping a sandal by hand before it is cut and stitched, and al-khalīqa, the nature upon which the human being was made. So khalq, at the root, is not a bare passage out of nothing into being. It is a coming out upon an intended shape.

And the cutting of the verb here, with no object after it, is meant. Had the verb been bound to an object, it would have put everything else outside the definition. It summed up instead, and every thing entered the summing. Whoever wants the detail finds it in the verses that follow: the pasture is brought out, the debris darkens. The summing is here, and the detail branches from it.

The fāʾ is order without delay. And taswiya, in the root s-w-y, is an equalizing that sets a thing straight upon its own measure. The foetus is proportioned in the womb: its limbs are weighed on ratios that hold between them. The sword is proportioned on the whetstone: its edge is made straight. And what is proportioned is what has its parts balanced, so that no limb overbears another.

And the form here is faʿʿala, sawwā, with the doubling of the middle radical: an intensity in a verb that takes hold of every part of the made thing. This is not an overall leveling brought in from outside. It is a proportioning that goes through every detail. And in al-Baqara the same sense returns under another wording: ﴿فَسَوَّاهُنَّ سَبْعَ سَمَاوَاتٍ﴾, "and He proportioned them into seven heavens." What is made comes out, then it is proportioned upon ratios that let it stand by itself.

This verse is the first of four verses that chain successive verbs: He created, then proportioned; He measured, then guided; He brought out the pasture; He made it dark debris. A cascade of verbs coming down from the highest in a single fall. Each verb opens the door of the one that follows it. And the reader, following this cascade, hears how the Most-High comes down to every point of the world.

And the One who created, then proportioned, left no made thing upon a broken proportion. That is why the world, in the listening this verse asks for, holds a balance older than whoever looks into it. Whoever grasps that balance sanctifies, and whoever strays from it denies. He sanctifies because the trace points; he denies because the mind runs past the trace, toward what he himself wants.

This verse defines the Most-High not by what He is but by what He does: ﴿الَّذِي خَلَقَ فَسَوَّىٰ﴾, "The One who created, then proportioned." Khalaq, from kh-l-q, is the measure taken and then the bringing into being upon that measure; and the verb comes with no object mentioned, so that every made thing falls under it. The fāʾ of "then proportioned" is order without delay: what comes after follows what comes before at once. Sawwā, from s-w-y, on the pattern faʿʿala whose doubling intensifies, sets the thing at the measure that is due to it: no excess that breaks it, no lack that leaves it helpless. Creating and proportioning are one movement that comes out at two ends. And this verse is the first of four that chain successive verbs: created then proportioned, measured then guided, brought out the pasture, made it debris. A cascade of verbs coming down from the highest in a single fall. And whoever acknowledges that the Most-High is the One who created, then proportioned, knows the trace before coveting an encompassing of the essence.

Two Readings

The two readings do not conflict. The first holds the conventional rendering; the second restores the proportion the root carries. This book chooses the additional listening.

Commentary

The root q-d-r turns, in Arabic, on the weighed cut. Al-qadar is a measure, and al-qudra is the authority of one who can weigh things in their own balances. From it come qadartu al-qidr, to put into the pot as much water as it can carry, and qadartu al-thawb, to cut the cloth to the measure of the one who will wear it. The taqdīr in this verse is a weighing of every made thing according to what befits it: a lifetime, a size, a portion, a term, a direction.

And the form faʿʿala, qaddara, with the doubling of the middle radical, makes the measuring go through the detail. Not an overall measure taken from outside, but a measure that comes down into every part. And this form runs parallel to sawwā in the verse before. Proportioning falls upon ratios, measuring falls upon quantities. Proportioning sets the part at the size of its sister, and measuring sets the part at the size its own act requires.

The fāʾ is order without delay. No sooner is a thing measured to its measure than it is guided to its direction. The root h-d-y, in Arabic, is an indication that carries through toward an end: the hādī walks ahead of the people and shows them the road, and the hadiyya is what is carried forward to the one it is offered to. And guidance, at its widest, is that a thing be made to reach toward what it was created for.

And guidance in this verse is general: not the guidance of the human alone, but the guidance of every made thing toward what was measured for it. And in Ṭā-Hā, ﴿رَبُّنَا الَّذِي أَعْطَىٰ كُلَّ شَيْءٍ خَلْقَهُ ثُمَّ هَدَىٰ﴾, "our Nurturer is the One who gave every thing its creation, then guided," the sense widens until it takes in every thing: every made thing was given its creation and then guided to what befits it. The guided one, in a weighed world, is not a rarity. It is the rule. Every made thing finds its road because the measuring came before it.

This verse stands in the middle of the cascade. Before it, "created, then proportioned," a coming into being that ends in a right ratio. After it, "brought out the pasture," a detail coming down to one image in particular. And this verse is between the two: a measuring that opens the door of guidance, and a guidance that opens the door of the bringing out. What is measured is guided, and what is guided is brought out.

And the reader, following this chain in his mouth before he follows it in his mind, feels how the act comes down from the summary to the detail. Khalaqa, fa-sawwā, qaddara, fa-hadā, akhraja. Five verbs coming down like the steps of a ladder until they settle on an image the hand can touch: the pasture. And the One who guides what is in the sky is the same One who guides the seed of grass to the earth.

This verse takes up the cascade of the world again in two successive terms: ﴿وَالَّذِي قَدَّرَ فَهَدَىٰ﴾, "And the One who measured, then guided." Qaddara, on the pattern faʿʿala with its doubling, from q-d-r, is the setting of a thing within its weighed limit, no less and no more: a lifetime, a size, a portion, a direction. The doubled form makes the measure go through every detail, and not an overall measure taken from outside. Then the fāʾ, without delay: "then guided." The root h-d-y is an indication that moves gently toward an end, the guiding of every made thing to what was measured for it: the bee to its flower, the root to the water in the depth of the earth, the foetus to its mother's breast. No sooner is a thing measured to its measure than it is guided to its direction. And this verse runs parallel to the one before it: "created, then proportioned," a coming into being followed by a right ratio, and "measured, then guided," a measure followed by an indication. The verse is a bridge in the middle of the cascade, between the proportioning of the world and the earthly bringing out that comes in the verse to follow.

Two Readings

The two readings do not conflict. The first preserves a particular guidance; the second restores the cosmological breadth the root carries. This book chooses the additional listening.