This text has been re-edited from an episode of the program by journalist and writer Ibrahim Eissa on Alhurra’s digital platforms, with the wording preserved as closely as possible to how it was presented on screen.
One of the most common phrases in our everyday speech and popular thinking is a line people constantly repeat: “How did people come to know God?” The immediate answer is: “Through reason,” as if the matter were settled – God is known through reason. But I say to you plainly: God is not known through reason. More precisely, faith is not a matter of reason; faith is a matter of the heart.
Our master Abraham, the father of the prophets, asked God for a sign to reassure his heart. God said to him, “Have you not believed?” He replied, “Yes, but so that my heart may be reassured.”
Notice this carefully: so that my heart may be reassured – not my mind – because faith resides in the heart. The heart is what receives faith, feels it, and lives it. Reason comes later.
If we think simply: Does God exist or not? Is there a definitive, conclusive rational proof for either position?
There is no decisive rational proof that establishes God’s existence, and there is likewise no decisive rational proof that negates it. Why? Because this domain is the domain of the heart. Guidance is for hearts; turning toward God is through the heart; belief in God is through the heart.
Once faith settles in the heart, the role of reason begins. This is where reason goes to work: in daily life, in managing one’s affairs, in understanding religion, in interpreting texts, in practicing rituals. If we speak about Islam, then understanding the Qur’an, the Sunnah, jurisprudence, exegesis, interpretation – all of this is done by reason. But faith itself – its source, depth, and root – belongs exclusively to the heart.
At the same time, matters must be clear: faith is not religion. Faith is the beginning and the foundation. You believe first, then you move on to religion and engage with it through your reason. Here emerges the perennial debate over “reason and transmission,” a debate often used to persuade people to submit without thinking, obey without understanding, and refrain from using reason in religion.
This is the essence of Salafi thought: “Do not argue,” “do not discuss,” “do not interpret,” “do not offer allegorical readings” – as if reason has no right to understand the religious text.
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Here we arrive at the famous saying, “There is no ijtihad in the presence of a text,” repeated by many Islamists and traditionalists as though it were an absolute truth. But what does it mean? Does it mean canceling reason whenever there is a text? Then how do we understand the text in the first place if not through reason?
Ijtihad is therefore indispensable. Ijtihad means exerting effort to understand a text, interpret it, read it contextually, and act upon it. How, then, can one say, “There is no ijtihad with a text”? On the contrary, no text can be understood without ijtihad – otherwise, how would we apply it, interpret it, or grasp its intent?
The same problem appears in the issue of prophetic hadith: the chain of transmission (isnad) and the text (matn). The isnad is the chain of narrators; the matn is the wording of the hadith itself. Advocates of pure transmission say: as long as the chain is sound, the hadith is sound. Advocates of reason say: the chain alone is not enough. The text must be examined: Does it accord with the Qur’an? Does it align with reason and logic? Does it conform to ethics and conscience?
The moment you say this, you are accused of denying the Sunnah or impugning hadith! Even though you are saying clearly: I value the chain, but I do not accept the text without subjecting it to reason. Reason here is not an adversary; it is a tool of understanding.
The irony is that those who say “no ijtihad with a text” are themselves the most given to ijtihad – only against the Qur’anic text. They rely on hadiths to suspend clear Qur’anic rulings. Take the issue of bequests, for example: you will be told, “There is no bequest for an heir,” despite the existence of a clear Qur’anic text on bequests.
When you object, you are told, “You have not understood the verse; the verse is understood this way.” Their understanding of the verse is itself an act of ijtihad. So why is ijtihad permitted for them and denied to others?
Another example is the verse, “A life for a life.” The text is clear (regardless of one’s position on capital punishment). Yet they say: a Muslim is not equal to a non-Muslim, a man is not equal to a woman, a free person is not equal to a slave. Where did this classification come from? It is a human ijtihad tied to its historical context, not a divine text. So why do they practice ijtihad in the face of a verse, while denying others ijtihad in the face of a hadith?
The same applies to the issue of blood money (diya): they will tell you that a woman’s diya is half that of a man, despite the absence of any Qur’anic text to that effect.
The problem is that some cling to heritage and narrations while standing against reason and logic. One is told, for instance, that a husband is not obliged to pay for his sick wife’s medical treatment, or even to pay for her shroud. And they tell you: this is religion. What religion is this? Is it conceivable that such claims be attributed to the Prophet who came to perfect noble character?
Imams also said that pregnancy could last up to four years. That was an understanding formed in a time that knew neither modern medicine nor science. But to revive and justify it today is to abolish both reason and science together.
The same is true of child marriage, where historical narrations are used to justify marrying children today. This is a pathological projection of a historical context onto a completely different reality, and a justification of a grave human violation in the name of religion.
The conclusion is that some zealots want a religion without reason. Yet the plain truth is this: faith has its origin in the heart, but religion cannot stand without reason.
The article is a translation of the original Arabic.
