A Contextual Approach to Women's Rights in the Quran - Readings of 4-34

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A Contextual Approach to Women’s Rights in the Qur

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n: Readings of 4:34

Rachel M. Scott

Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State UniversityBlacksburg, Virginia

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he interpretation of sacred texts regarding the rights, role, and status of women is a challenge. In Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, the patriarchal nature of its religious texts poses a number of hurdles for

feminist scholars. For Muslim feminist interpreters of the Qur

’a

n, the problem is particularly acute. The Qur

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n is seen by almost all Muslims as the literal word of God and, thus, unlike many Christian and Jewish feminist scholars, the majority of Muslim feminist scholars cannot reject or question the text itself: they have to “take the Qur

’a

n in its entirety.”

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As a result, the position is taken by Muslim feminists that “no verse of the Qur

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n can really have an oppressive androcentric intent; such an intent comes only from the male dominated interpretive tradition.”

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Thus, the androcentric interpretations of the verses and not the verses themselves are challenged.

One such response advocates a contextual or historical reading of the Qur

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n, which involves reading a verse with regard to the historical, social, and political context in which it was revealed in order to disclose an underlying liberal intent, thereby liberating Muslims from a literal reading. Such a method forms part of a broader approach within modernist Islam that Charles Kurzman identifies as the liberal

shar

i “

a

approach. This approach argues that

shar

i “

a

sanctions liberal positions and that democracy, human rights, and equality between men and women are an expression of the values of a ‘true’ Islam.

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Such an approach is particularly compelling because it can eschew the accusation that Western values are being imposed upon Islam.

Like modernist Islam in general, feminist scholarship has faced resistance from conservative exegetes. This resistance has included the accusation that

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feminist scholarship is disloyal to Islam and denies its heritage. Such heritage (

tur

a

th

) is the product of a male interpretive elite, the

“

ulam

a

”

(religious scholars) who in classical Islam “spoke authoritatively for Islam.”

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The modernist version of

ijtih

a

d

(the process of employing individual reasoning to interpret the law from its sources) has opened up interpretation to individuals from outside the religious establishment, including women.

Feminist interpreters of the Qur

’a

n face a particular challenge, since unlike other issues such as democracy, on which the Qur

’a

n is relatively silent, there are a number of verses that are potentially problematic from a feminist perspective. This is why a liberal

shar

i “

a

approach in general and a contextualized reading in particular of such verses has taken such a prominent role. It is argued that through a contextualization of the verse one can distinguish the message of the Qur

’a

n from its previous interpretations. Such a distinction is central to feminist exegesis, which argues that interpretations of scripture have been “influenced by the patriarchal paradigm of the medieval period from which they were produced.”

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This article focuses on how the method of contextualization is applied to one of the most contentious verses in the Qur

’a

n. The verse is integral to any discussion of the role and status of women in Islam and arguably represents the point at which feminists face their greatest challenge. The verse relates to two separate but connected issues. One concerns the question of men’s authority over women. The other concerns the legality of corporal discipline against women:

Men are the protectors and maintainers (

qaww

a

m

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n

) of women, because God has given the one more (strength) than the other, and because they support them from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient, and guard in (the husband’s) absence what God would have them guard. As to those women on whose part you fear disloyalty and ill-conduct, admonish them (first), (next), refuse to share their beds, (and last) beat them (lightly); but if they return to obedience, seek not against them means (of annoyance): for God is Most High, Great (above you all). (4:34).

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Within traditional Qur

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nic exegesis, this verse has been interpreted as justifying both the inherent superiority of men over women, and the legality of men beating women. The classical exegete Ibn Kath

i

r (1301–1373) argued that “men excel over women and are better than them for certain tasks.” Thus, a man should be a woman’s “maintainer, caretaker and leader” who can discipline her “if she deviates.”

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Notwithstanding this, “the beating measure has been met with moral unease and resistance by many authorities both past and present.”

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However, such resistance has focused on mollifying the severity of the implications of

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the permission rather than questioning it

per se

. For example, based on a

H

ad

i

th, the historians al-Tabar

i

(838–923) and Ibn Kath

ir emphasized that the beating should not be “severe” or “violent,” with interpretations of severity ranging from breaking the bone to breaking the flesh.9 In the modern period, scholars such as Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849–1905) and Rashid Rida (1865–1935) have defended the hitting of women without severe harm, although Muhammad ‘Abduh argued that the tradition in which the Prophet said “the best of you would not beat their wives” amounts to a virtual prohibition.10 Sayyid Qutb (1906–1966) argued that a man may beat his wife as a preventative measure “in an unhealthy situation in order to protect the family against collapse.”11 The popular contemporary Islamic scholar Yusuf al-Qaradawi (b. 1926) states that a man is “entitled to the obedience and cooperation of his wife,” and that if he does not receive this, as a last resort, he can “beat her lightly with his hands, avoiding her face and other sensitive areas.”12

The mainstream interpretation of the verse, therefore, is based upon both a literal and de-contextualized reading: men have authority over women, who are expected to be obedient, and beating lightly is justifiable in the case of their disobedience.13 This article examines the exegetical method of contextual reading utilized by scholars who seek to undermine the authority of this literal interpretation and focuses on the second part of the verse. Through a reinterpretation of the text these scholars question the assumption that a man’s right to physically chastise women is divinely ordained.

While the first part of the verse in question is contentious, it will not be explored in detail in this article. The majority of exegetes see the two parts of the verse as linked. Dispute over the first part of the verse has focused around the term qawwamun. Like most classical scholars, al-Zamakhshari (1074/5–1144/3) interpreted qawwamun to mean that “men are in charge of the affairs of women” on account of some kind of inherent superiority.14 This interpretation continues to be held. The Islamic scholar Abu Al-‘Ala al-Maududi (1903–1979) agreed that women must obey their husbands.15 However, like many other modernist scholars, Fazlur Rahman (1919–1988) agrees that “men are in charge of women,” but argues that this is because they must support women. Thus it is a functional rather than an inherent superiority, and this functional authority can be further contextualized.16

This article focuses on the second part of the verse, which appears to sanction domestic violence. We examine how three contemporary Islamic thinkers: Fatima Mernissi, a Moroccan sociologist, Muhammad al-Talbi, a Tunisian historian, and Amina Wadud, an African-American professor of Islamic studies, employ the hermeneutical method of contextual reading to interpret the verse in a way that does not condone the beating of women.

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It examines the theoretical and practical challenges facing such a reading. It argues that for such a methodology to be strengthened, a fuller discussion of the issues that it raises, most notably the psychological manner of revelation and the question of certainty, needs to take place. It explores whether this approach can make the text work or whether the only option for feminists is to say “no” to the text, as Amina Wadud has recently done.

It must be noted that some interpreters have subjected the term daraba, which has most often been translated as “to beat,” to further semantic analysis. In a recent translation of the Qur’an, Laleh Bakhtiar has translated daraba as “go away from.”17 Thus, it is argued, idribuhunna, as it appears in the verse, does not mean “hit them” but “leave them.”18 Such a claim needs more discussion, particularly relating to the absence of a preposition before the pronoun denoting women, which one might expect if it meant to “depart from.”19 Hadia Mubarak has posited six possible meanings for daraba and prefers the translation “to create an effect upon her.”20 The semantic analysis of daraba needs further examination. In any case, the three thinkers examined here make the assumption that the verb means “to beat” and it is on this assumption that discussion in this article is based.

ContextualizationThe method of reading a verse with regard to its historical context is not

entirely new. Among medieval exegetes, the importance of reading a verse with regard to its occasions of revelation (asbab al-nuzul ) was widely accepted, arising from the fact that the revelation of the Qur’an to Muhammad was spread over a period of time and was in many cases seen as a response to Muhammad’s situation.21 Verses were often linked to particular historical events by reference to the Hadith literature and the biography of the Prophet. However, knowledge of the occasions of revelation was not used as a method for interpreting underlying meanings of the verse. In fact, it was often seen as “irrelevant and unimportant” in determining “whether a particular ruling in the Qur’an is to be universally applicable or not.”22 It was therefore understood that while the law was occasioned by a specific situation, “its application nevertheless becomes universal.”23

This disconnection between the occasions of revelation and the interpretation of meaning was linked to the status of the Qur’an that emerged as orthodox in classical Islam. The otherness of the Qur’an was emphasized, since it was viewed as divine and the word of God. It was seen as miraculous in nature, uncreated, having descended from a pre-existing heavenly tablet. This was “seen to assert the totally non-contingent nature of the text,”24 which meant that the Qur’an was detached from the Prophet, who was a “passive recipient of revelation.”25 It was understood that revelation had “no direct

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connection to the ‘situation on the ground’ or the concerns and issues of the Prophet or his community.”26

Context was not discounted entirely, but it was only applied to cases in which two literal readings of the Qur’an appeared to contradict one another. In such a case, the method of abrogation, by which a later verse was believed to supersede an earlier one, was adopted based on the supposition that God chose to revise commands, which the Qur’an supports (16:101).27 One of the assumptions behind this was that God had established a trajectory of reform for Muslims. To stipulate all commands at once would have been too onerous for the Muslim community: regulations were therefore introduced slowly. However, on the whole, context was only utilized when there appeared to be a contradiction between two verses, and even in those cases, the context was only important in terms of establishing the chronology of verses and not in assessing their meaning.

This reflects an atomistic approach to Qur’anic interpretation, which was an important feature of classical exegesis. Interpretation focused on one verse at a time, and involved an in-depth discussion of relevant Hadith, along with a discussion of the philological and linguistic complexities of each verse. This focus meant that, according to modern scholars, there was a failure “to understand the Qur’an as a deeper unity yielding a definite Weltanschauung.”28 Muslims did not engage in a “systematic working out of the values and principles of the Qur’an.”29 In addition, in many cases the interpretation of the Qur’an was influenced by the customs of the conquered lands.30

Today, a number of scholars argue that the verse should be read with regard to the occasions of revelation in such a way that sheds light not only on the ‘true’ meaning of the verse but also in a way that defines universal principles as opposed to specific instructions. This approach was heralded by one of the most original Islamic thinkers of the twentieth century, Fazlur Rahman (1919–1988). Rahman argues that: “The Qur’an is the divine response, through the Prophet’s mind, to the moral-social situation of the Prophet’s Arabia.”31 Thus, one should extract general principles and long-range objectives from the specifics of the Qur’an and from that, general principles can be extracted “to be formulated and realized now.”32 In order to extract general principles, one must examine the context of a quasi-legal pronouncement in order to understand the “ratio legis,” i.e., why a law is being formulated.33 This method is illustrated in Rahman’s understanding of polygamy. Muslims believed that limitless polygamy was practiced in pre-Islamic Arabia and that the Qur’an then restricted the number of wives a man could have to four.34 It is the ratio legis of this restriction that provides a key to unlocking the verse’s meaning. Rahman argues that “permission for



polygamy was at a legal plane while the sanctions put on it were in the nature of a moral ideal towards which the society was expected to move, since it was not possible to remove polygamy at one stroke.”35

The idea of a moral trajectory is arguably an extension of the notion that some laws were introduced gradually. However, while classical Islam identified the idea of the development of reform within the time frame of the revelation, the idea that it continued beyond the time-frame of the community of the Prophet Muhammad was not entertained.

Fatima MernissiFatima Mernissi (b. 1940) is a contemporary Moroccan sociologist. Mernissi

had both a traditional Islamic and a Western secular education, obtaining a master’s degree in politics from Muhammad V University in Rabat, Morocco, and a Ph.D. in sociology from Brandeis University in 1973. She returned to Morocco to teach and works at a research institute in Rabat. Mernissi’s work on women in Islam has made an important contribution to both the critique of the position of women in the Islamic world and to textual interpretation.

In Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, Mernissi laments the status of women in contemporary Islamic societies, which she traces to early scholars of Islam who distorted and manipulated the sacred texts.36 Hadith were fabricated, she argues, and used by men as a political weapon “to preserve what was essential to them,” which included the subjugation of women.37 Classical interpretation, she argues, did not synthesize “all the causes relating to a given verse in chronological order and with an analysis of its psychological and social impact.”38 Mernissi calls for this synthesis through which one can decode the verses, “give them their meaning,” and determine “general principles,” which she criticizes classical exegetes and contemporary Muslim leaders for failing to do.39 If classical scholars had determined these principles it “would probably have allowed Islam as a civilization of the written word to come logically to a sort of declaration of human rights.”40 This would have included, Mernissi argues, equality between the sexes based on following verse:

For Muslim men and women — for believing men and women, for devout men and women, for true men and women, for men and women who are patient and constant, for men and women who humble themselves, for men and women who give in charity, for men and women who fast (and deny themselves) for men and women who guard their chastity, and for men and women who engage much in God’s praise — for them has God prepared forgiveness and great reward. (33:35).41

Mernissi returns to the life of the Prophet to paint a fresh picture of the early Islamic community. She argues that Umm Salama, one of Muhammad’s



wives, was the leader of a movement that campaigned for the equal participation of women.42 She argues that women in Medina under Muhammad’s tutelage “could gain access to full citizenship” and were able to “dispute with the men, to fight for their happiness, and to be involved in the management of military and political affairs.”43 Umm Salama asked the Prophet why so few verses addressed the issue of women. In response, the above verse (33:35) was revealed, in which, according to Mernissi, it is clear that “God spoke of the two sexes in terms of total equality as believers, that is, as members of the community.”44 4:11 was also revealed, in which women were given inheritance rights, which meant, Mernissi argues, that “not only would a woman no longer be ‘inherited’ like camels and palm trees, but she would herself inherit.”45 Mernissi argues that this was a kind of “bombshell” for the men of Medina, “who found themselves for the first time in direct, personal conflict with the Muslim God.” While the amount of inheritance given to women was not equal to that given to men, it represented a significant improvement to their situation in pre-Islamic Arabia, where women had no rights to inherit or own property.46 For Mernissi, this represented the “egalitarian dimension of Islam,” which men tried to suppress.47

Having revealed verses that established the equality of the sexes, Mernissi argues, “other verses came, which temporized on [this] principle . . . and reaffirmed male supremacy, without, however, nullifying the dispositions in favor of women.” This resulted in an ambiguity in the Qur’an which was utilized by the male elite.48 One of these verses was the hijab verse, which is used to endorse the practice of the veiling of women.49 Mernissi argues that this verse was revealed to Muhammad the evening of his marriage to one of his wives, Zaynab. Some friends of Muhammad tarried in his house and appeared insensitive to his desire to be alone with his new wife.50 The verse was revealed to solve this problem: it told Muhammad’s friends to leave after they had had their meal, since he himself was too diffident to do so.

Mernissi explains that the broader context explains why the Prophet’s wives were subsequently veiled and why this practice was adopted by other women. The time was year 5 of the hijra, the Prophet’s most disastrous year militarily. Economic and political crises were “tearing Medina apart and delivering it, in a state of fragility and uncertainty, to the fierce struggles” of political divisions.51 The Prophet’s political enemies were trying to undermine him by harassing his wives.52 Thus the verse, Mernissi argues, “came to give order to a very convulsed and complex situation. The hijab was to be the solution to a whole web of conflicts and tensions.”53 Mernissi also implies that Muhammad yielded on the issue of the veil because it “was insisted upon by ‘Umar Ibn al-Khattab, the spokesman of male resistance to women’s demands.”54 Muhammad, she argues, was in physical decline and was no



longer able to stand up to ‘Umar and therefore agreed to women being confined. By giving consent to the hijab, Mernissi argues, Muhammad gave “his consent to the reestablishment of male supremacy.”55 Mernissi argues that the context explains why Muhammad yielded on the question of women’s rights: if Muhammad had applied the principle of equality enshrined in 33:53, this would have undermined an intensely unstable political situation.56

Mernissi applies this approach to 4:34 and argues that the verse was revealed in response to an incident concerning a woman who was beaten by her husband and went to Muhammad for arbitration.57 In this case, Umm Salama, one of the Prophet’s wives, and ‘Umar played the role of intermediaries with Muhammad: Umm Salama for the wife and ‘Umar for the husband.58 Mernissi argues that ‘Umar was known for being “rough and harsh with women” and did not “hesitate” to slap his wife. He represented Meccans who opposed the “freedom of thought and action of women of Medina.”59 In line with his egalitarian desires, Mernissi argues, Muhammad, who did not beat his own wives, intended to fulfil the woman’s request for retaliation. However, before he had a chance, the verse was revealed. Mernissi writes: “God had decided otherwise. Muhammad realized that as an individual he could be in conflict with God. So the Prophet summoned the husband, recited the verse, and told him: ‘I wanted one thing, and God wanted another.’ ”60

Arguing that it was not something Muhammad really wanted, and, as Mernissi says, in “flagrant contradiction” to 33:35, Mernissi then returns to the context to explain the verse. She argues the verse was revealed during the same unstable period as the hijab verse:

At that time he [Muhammad] had to deal with serious military problems and often went off on expeditions. When he returned home, instead of finding rest, he was harassed by hordes of women and men who came to consult him about their conflicts at his door. He no longer had the energy and vigor of youth.61

Mernissi then argues that the Prophet was also pressured by ‘Umar in this case to allow violence towards women, since it is certain that the Prophet abhorred it.

The Prophet, beset by Companions of both sexes and their contradictory demands, troubled by divine revelations that went counter to his aims, influenced by ‘Umar, who represented tradition, deep-seated reflexes, and customs, knew that he had to use his influence in the most reliable manner — that is, the one least likely to be challenged. He had to win military victories, channel the energy of the believers into religious war, and regain his position as leader of the community.62



Mernissi’s exegesis is daring, radical, and refreshing. Yet it also leaves a number of issues unresolved. One of these concerns Mernissi’s use of the sources. While she selectively uses the sources to paint a dichotomy between Muhammad and ‘Umar, she does not discuss the historical challenges involved in arriving at this picture, particularly regarding ‘Umar’s supposed influence over Muhammad. Mernissi is also selectively critical of the sources. While she is deeply skeptical of the Hadith that expound a misogynist view, she is confident of the sources that enable her to ascertain the precise date and circumstances in which the verse was revealed, upon which she depends for her argument. She also extrapolates from the fact that the Prophet did not beat his wives to imply something more. She does not explore the sources that imply that the Prophet himself took a pragmatic approach to these issues. While he did not beat his own wives, it is reported that he told men who did that they were “not the best among you.”

One interesting point raised by Mernissi’s analysis is the apparent disconnect between what God and the Prophet wanted. Mernissi argues that Muhammad was “troubled by divine revelations that went counter to his aims” and that God wanted one thing and the Prophet another. The ramifications of this statement are not discussed. One possible — and somewhat explosive — answer is that Mernissi could be expressing an antipathy towards God. Mernissi particularly avoids brokering the subject of God’s intentions, and focuses upon Muhammad as a figure more than the Qur’anic verses. The theological implications that arise from the idea that God and Muhammad wanted something different need to be explored.

The other explanation is that God revealed this verse to quell the problems of the early Islamic community, and that his ultimate aim was the same as that of Muhammad, i.e., the equality of men and women. Mernissi does not explicitly say this, but it is implied. However, again the question of God’s intentions is left unclear. In any case, by implying that the context explains the verse, she implies that God was more pragmatic than his more idealistic Prophet.

Mernissi’s exegesis raises further questions. The most obvious — or perhaps simplistic and crude — one is why didn’t God send down another verse once the period of instability was over towards the end of the Prophet’s life. But of course scripture is never simple and clear and interpreters have to wrestle with what is given. The failure of God to send down a particular instruction does not mean that it cannot be implied, although silence could just as easily be interpreted as consent. However, having said this, Mernissi needs a stronger argument for assuming that the verse in question was simply a temporary measure to avoid internal strife. Mernissi needs to be able to establish more compelling grounds, either from the Qur’an itself or from the



Hadith, for assuming the notion of temporality from the verse. This relates more broadly to the statement that God sent down verses which temporized on the principle of equality of the sexes: “In fact, women’s triumph was of a very short duration. Not only did Heaven no longer respond to their pleas, but every time they formulated a new demand, revelations, did not, as before, come to their rescue.”63 Mernissi does not resolve the dichotomy between verses which affirmed women’s equality and those that departed from this.

Muhammad al-TalbiMuhammad al-Talbi (b. 1921) is a contemporary Tunisian medieval

historian. He attended French primary and secondary schools in Tunisia.64 He then studied in France and obtained a doctorate in history from the Sorbonne in 1968. He taught medieval history at the University of Tunis, where he became professor emeritus. Since his retirement, he has written on modern Islamic thought and inter-religious dialogue.65

In his work Ummat al-Wasa† (The Community of Moderation), al-Talbi argues that Muslim tradition has played a detrimental role in spreading the assumption that the verses in question represent God’s universal condoning of the beating of women. Jurists interpreted 4:34 in the light of the “Hadith which established the inferiority of women and made her a sexual commodity whose role was to submit to the desires of her husband.”66

One of the foundations for al-Talbi’s construction of modern Islamic thought is a “historical reading” (qira”a tarikhiyya) of the text. It is by undertaking ijtihad with a historical reading that the “intentions of the legislator” (al-maqasid al-shari“a) and, therefore, “its true meaning” can be derived.67 One must look at the “historical, social, and anthropological dimensions in which a verse is revealed.”68 Ronald Nettler, whose article provides a detailed reading and analysis of al-Talbi’s exegesis, explains that for al-Talbi, by knowing the intentions of the legislator, one is able to “distinguish the fixed ritual obligations and deeper ethics of Islam from certain more timebound elements,” revealing “other meanings which possess significance for all times and places.”69

Al-Talbi believes that the Qur’an is appropriate for every time: “God converses with human kind in all ages and places in a living dialogue that is constantly new.” One must therefore understand that the Qur’an was sent down in a particular age and to a particular environment and use this knowledge as a “key” to apply to a new age. This idea implies dynamism forward into the future, since “history is a moral movement constantly pushing forward.”70 The direction of this movement “toward Islam’s successful encounter with modernity” can be derived from ascertaining God’s intentions.71



Al-Talbi’s conception of the Qur’an is that it is relative and context bound. The text should be subject to individual interpretation and ijtihad. Every Muslim should employ critical reason and thereby make an independent judgement. Al-Talbi claims that Muhammad employed ijtihad in his treatment of women during the first three years at Medina. During this period, no specific revelations were revealed concerning the treatment of women, so Muhammad treated women according to his own feminist preferences.72

Regarding 4:34, al-Talbi argues, like Mernissi, that the reasons for the revelation of the verse lie in the social and political situation of the time. When Muhammad arrived in Medina, the Meccans were accustomed to beating their women, who “did not complain of it” and “did not consider it an attack on their dignity.”73 The Medinans, however, did not beat their women. As a result, many Meccan women felt that they should not be beaten. This resulted in a clash of cultures. At the same time, al-Talbi argues, Muhammad — as a ‘feminist’ — was bringing about a kind of ‘feminist revolution,’ which women enthusiastically embraced. The Prophet wanted to protect women from the tyranny of men and wanted to put an end to the beating of women.74

According to al-Talbi, this encouraged the development of a feminist party led by Umm Salama. The Prophet supported these feminist demands and married Umm Salama. This feminist movement became “strong and violent,” and, as a result, “women became too bold and too elevated,” and this alarmed men. This resulted in an anti-feminist movement lead by ‘Umar Ibn al-Khattab, which was “enraged by women’s new found boldness and independence.” The Muslim community (umma) became divided into two movements: the feminist and anti-feminist. Society was riddled with division and dissatisfaction: the situation as one of near “explosion.”75

Al-Talbi argues that the period in which the verse was revealed was a critical one in the life of the young umma: it was “surrounded by enemies” both internally and externally. It became necessary to close down internal differences and “unify the ranks of the fighters.” God revealed 4:34 to strengthen the community: God averted internal division and thereby gave precedence to “the most important over the important,” since it was impossible to quickly establish the most preferable social order.76 Al-Talbi writes, “there is no doubt that this particular verse came to settle an argument which had got out of control and had almost caused a civil war.”77

Three years after these verses were revealed, people had become used to the status quo in which women were treated as second class citizens and men beat their wives. This situation continued: the second and third centuries strengthened the anti-feminist movement, with “Hadith reinforcing the inferiority of women.”78



As if to pick up on one of the issues left open by Mernissi, al-Talbi claims that there was no incompatibility between what God wished and what Muhammad wished, since God left the Prophet to treat women according to his personal preference before the verse was revealed, and if the Prophet’s judgment had been against God’s will, he would have intervened. God’s intervention with 4:34 was to save a critical situation and not because he disagreed with Muhammad ’s approach. Al-Talbi states that the will of God and the Prophet was unified. While God wanted the best for the time, which was stability, this did not represent a departure from Muhammad ’s general ethical standard.79

Al-Talbi’s methodology is connected with Mernissi’s. However, like Mernissi, al-Talbi also relies on traditional sources uncritically: he takes the historical context for granted and does not subject it to scrutiny, although he admits that the sources do not fully cover the background.80

Like Mernissi and reflecting Rahman’s focus on context as providing a ratio legis, al-Talbi argues that the social, political, and anthropological “dimensions” are essential for understanding the verse. Unlike Mernissi, however, al-Talbi calls for a contextual reading with the aim of ascertaining the “intentions of the law-giver.” This is something Mernissi is more reluctant to do. This enables al-Talbi to be explicit about expressing the notion of an orientation finder. The problem arises, however, with the fact that al-Talbi is not self-conscious concerning the subjective nature of ascertaining these intentions. In the case of 4:34, al-Talbi is confident that God’s intention was not to universally condone the beating of women. The problem is that it is equally possible that someone employing ijtihad could come to opposite conclusions. Nettler highlights al-Talbi’s projection onto the text: “The unstated assumption which plays a key role in the logic of Talbi’s method is that God wants only the ‘good’ and ‘progressive’ and continues, ‘But what exactly is ijtihad here? Does it have objective criteria and standards? . . . Could ijtihad by its nature yield more than one valid conclusion?’ ”81

While al-Talbi claims that God did not intend the unrestrained beating of women, he goes further and argues that “the historical methodology arrives at the outright prohibition of beating women.”82 Thus, al-Talbi uses his methodology to exact a principle that he believes is true and absolute, which is an inversion of what the verse appears to say. The confidence with which he makes the claim that God wanted to forbid the beating of women jars with his other more tempered work. Indeed, there is a tension between this and his more relativist outlook implicit in his notion of ikhtilaf (difference of opinion amongst the authorities of religious law), which he expresses elsewhere. Al-Talbi holds that ikhtilaf has been “part of Islam since its inception,” and that ikhtilaf in terms of a “multitude of approaches to the Qur’an” is “natural and good.”83



Al-Talbi therefore tries to exact absolute principles from contextual readings. And yet the foundation of al-Talbi’s analysis defies the notion of absolute principles, since it implies flexibility in the text and some kind of pragmatism on the part of God. In the manner of a rhetorical question, al-Talbi asks whether “allowing men to hit recalcitrant women is appropriate for every time, place and for all kinds of societies from the East to the West without exception and for all women whatever the stage of their intellectual, conceptual and cultural maturity?”84 There is arguably some tension between this and the notion of an absolute prohibition against the beating of wives.

Another problematic area of al-Talbi’s interpretation is the projection back of modern concepts onto a seventh century text. Al-Talbi talks of Muhammad as a “feminist.” There are many indications that the Prophet was interested in improving the rights of women in Islam. However, is applying the concept of “feminism” to Muhammad anachronistic? The sources are clear that Muhammad’s society, and indeed his marital affairs, were based on fundamentally patriarchal assumptions. This also raises important questions concerning the extent to which we are to see Muhammad contextually bound as an individual too and, if so, is the label of “feminist” an extrapolated interpretation of a kind of contextual reading of Muhammad himself ?

Amina Wadud-MuhsinAmina Wadud-Muhsin (b. 1952) is an African-American Muslim and

associate professor of Islamic Studies at Virginia Commonwealth University. She gained her Ph.D. from the University of Michigan. Wadud is a contentious figure, whose leading of mixed-gender prayer at a New York mosque in 2005 aroused an angry response from many Muslims. Wadud’s reading of the Qur’an in her ground breaking work Qur”an and Woman that is “meaningful to women living in the modern era,” has had a powerful scholarly and popular impact.85

Wadud calls for a Qur’anic hermeneutics that includes the experience of women. She argues that the Qur’an is flexible enough to accommodate innumerable cultural situations. Wadud’s approach is of a holistic nature, which she states is lacking in traditional and many contemporary methods of interpretation. These have focused on one verse at a time, and little effort has been “made to recognize themes and to discuss the relationship of the Qur’an to itself, thematically.”86

Wadud’s holistic approach is three-fold. First, it involves a consideration of how a particular verse relates to the whole of the text or the Weltanschauung of the Qur’an. Thus, Wadud proposes a hermeneutics of “tawhid [unity] to emphasize how the unity of the Qur’an permeates all its parts.”87 Second, it involves a linguistic and grammatical analysis of the terms used with each



word being “understood within its contextual constraints,” and in light of “similar language and syntactical structures used elsewhere in the Qur’an.”88

Third, the broader context of the verse must also be considered. Using the ideas of Fazlur Rahman, Wadud argues that, “a reciprocal relationship must be made between particular historical or cultural practices during the time of the Qur’anic revelation as reflections of the underlying principles and the diverse reflections of those principles in other historical and cultural contexts.”89 Therefore, one must understand the Qur’an as a “text that responded to particular circumstances in Arabia at the time of the revelation.”90

From a contextual reading one can identify what Wadud calls a “trajectory of social, political and moral responsibilities.” While in many cases the Qur’an does not definitively articulate this trajectory, Wadud argues that there is a “textual precedent for this sense of momentum.”91 Wadud identifies the question of slavery as an example. In the Qur’an, slavery is implicitly condoned in the sense that it is presented as an existing practice and is not condemned. And yet there are frequent exhortations for Muslims to free their slaves and Muslims who do so will receive religious benefit (2:177; 4:92; 9:60; 90:11–13). Wadud argues that following a literal interpretation of the Qur’an “would never have lead to [its] eradication,” but the Qur’anic “ethos of equity, justice, and human dignity,” might lead to its abolition.92

Wadud argues that if this notion of a trajectory had been applied in the case of women, “Islam would have been a global motivating force for woman’s empowerment.”93 Although the specific regulations concerning women “provide clear indications” that “seventh-century Arabia was far from ideal,” this should not be seen as representing a normative standard.94 In the Medinan period, reforms were introduced for the benefit of women: this implies a projection toward greater reform. By looking at the Qur’an in this way, Wadud argues that one can identify an “ultimate intent” or hidden “spirit.”95

Wadud’s notion of a trajectory builds on traditional or mainstream assumptions of incremental reform. Wadud resorts to a common argument used to explain contradictions in the Qur’an by concluding that: “if all these customs had been entirely abolished by God, several problems would have ensued . . . , not many of His commandments would have been obeyed.”96

Having articulated her methodology, Wadud turns to the question of women in the Qur’an. Wadud’s view of this Weltanschauung is that there is “no essential difference in the value attributed to women and men.”97 There are verses that refer to the spiritual equality of men and women, who have “inherently equal value” and are “given the same or equal consideration and endowed with the same or equal potential.”98 Wadud argues that “the Qur’an does not support a specific and stereotyped role for its characters, male or female,” since at the moment of creation “no specific cultural functions or



roles” were defined.99 However, it is clear there were functional distinctions in the context of seventh century Arabia which the Qur’an recognizes along with the fact that “members of each gender function in a manner which reflects the well defined distinctions held by the culture to which those members belong.”100 It is for this reason that God took a pragmatic approach by prohibiting reprehensible practices such as infanticide; placing restrictions on others such as divorce and polygamy; and remaining “neutral” on others such as social and marital patriarchy.101 The mistake that has been made, Wadud claims, is that these contextually specific functions have “been used to support the idea of the inherent superiority of men over women.”102

Wadud then applies this Weltanschauung to a contextual reading of 4:34. Unlike Mernissi, who, like most exegetes, sees nushuz as referring to women’s rebellion against male authority, Wadud argues that it does not refer to the obedience of a wife to her husband, but to marital discord.103 She argues that “the Qur’an never orders a woman to obey her husband” and that it is never the case that obedience to husbands is required of “better women” (66:5). Linking back to the Qur’anic Weltanschauung, she argues that “such an interpretation has no universal potential and contradicts the essence of the Qur’an and the established practices of the Prophet.” Such a verse, she argues — rather ambiguously — was understood to refer to a woman’s need to be obedient towards her husband because “in marriages of subjugation, wives did obey their husbands, usually because they believed that a husband who materially maintains his family, including the wife, deserves to be obeyed.”104

Wadud links the contextualized reading and her notion of a forward trajectory with a linguistic analysis of the word daraba. Wadud reluctantly acknowledges that the word does in fact refer to a man’s ability to hit his wife. However, she endeavors to lessen the severity of this by juxtaposing it with the Weltanschauung of the Qur’an and arguing that even if this final stage is reached after other actions have been taken, “the nature of the ‘scourge’ cannot be such as to create conjugal violence or a struggle between the couple because that is ‘un-Islamic.’ ”105 Wadud argues that the fact that the first form of the verb daraba (to hit) as opposed to the second form of the verb darraba (to hit repeatedly or intensely) was chosen is deliberate. This choice of verb forms must be seen in light of the excessive violence women were exposed to in pre-Islamic Arabia. It means that “this verse should be taken as prohibiting unchecked violence against females. Thus, this is not permission, but a severe restriction of existing practices.”106 Thus Wadud identifies this trajectory towards reform. She argues that the Qur’anic text focuses “on the marital norm at the time of revelation, and applies constraints on the actions of the husbands with regard to wives.”107 The emphasis of the verse is on the “male’s treatment of the female.” She argues that this is emphasized by the fact that husbands



are commanded “not to seek a way against wives who are obedient” in the latter part of the same verse.108

Wadud’s methodology is more systematic and sophisticated than that of Mernissi or al-Talbi. One of the disadvantages of al-Talbi’s analysis is that it does not examine 4:34 in the light of other verses in the Qur’an. Wadud offers a hermeneutics of tawhid (unity) in which the verses are seen in the light of her interpretation of the Qur’anic attitude towards women as a whole. Contextual reading forms one of three mutually reinforcing methodological cornerstones rendering it one of the most systematic of feminist readings of the Qur’an. However, tensions and challenges still remain. One of these, which applies to Mernissi’s and al-Talbi’s, is the supposed “correctness” of the contextualized reading. It relates to the question of what makes this reading any more or less compelling than a de-contextualized or literal one.

Of course, it is a mistake, as the feminist scholar Asma Barlas points out, to assume that the “Qur’an’s readings have been fixed once and for all as immutably patriarchal.”109 Certainly one should not privilege or assign any moral superiority to literal interpretations. It is arguable that while there are no objective criteria for the employment of ijtihad, feminist readings are not necessarily any more subjective than traditional ones. Wadud’s reading of 4:34 is approached from the perspective of her own convictions about what the Qur’an’s worldview is, this being one “of justice towards humankind, human dignity, equal rights before the law and before God, mutual responsibility and equitable relations between humans.”110 Asma Barlas assumes that God does not sanction Zulm (injustice) “if God never does Zulm to anyone, then God’s Speech (the Qur’an) also cannot teach Zulm against anyone.”111

However, arguably a problem still lies in the claim that one is substituting one wrong reading for a correct one. Mernissi and al-Talbi reflect this assumption, as does Wadud in Qur ”an and Woman, although she also states that no “method of Qur’anic exegesis is fully objective.”112 In her recent book Inside the Gender Jihad, Wadud is more cautious and acknowledges that her early work was constrained by her own idea of a perfect Islam, stating that “I inadvertently implied I actually had the power to express and possess the ‘true’ Islam.”113 Wadud is aware of her own subjective relationship with the text arguing that “concepts of justice have always been relative to actual historical and cultural situations.”114

This growing tendency towards doubt is illustrated by the change in her treatment of 4:34, where the challenge in applying the theory to this specific verse becomes clear. In her early work Qur ”an and Woman, Wadud argues that a trajectory toward reform can be ascertained from the very deliberate choice of the first form over the second. However, the weakness here lies in that it is unclear that there is sufficient evidence to support the notion that the



choice of the first form was deliberate. Such an argument would be stronger if the first form was unusual, but this is not the case. In addition, there remains the awkward issue that the verse still gives permission for a husband to beat his wife.

In her latest book Inside the Gender Jihad, it is perhaps in acknowledgement of this weakness — although she does not explicitly say so — that Wadud states that this verse marks the point at which she has “come to places where how the text says what it says is just plain inadequate or unacceptable, however much interpretation is enacted upon it” and that perhaps one should actually say ‘no’ to the text.”115 Wadud argues:

There is no getting around this one [4:34], even though I have tried through different methods for two decades. I simply do not and cannot condone permission for a man to ‘scourge’ or apply any kind of strike to a woman.116

She expresses doubts about the strength of her previous claim concerning the claimed restriction when she argues that “perhaps” this verse was meant to counter “the practices of female abuse and violence towards women.”117 By saying “no” to the text, does Wadud concede that there are limitations to the extent to which this method of contextualization as part of her three-cornered methodology can be applied? Does saying “no” to the text signify a radical departure from the struggle to make the text “work”? While one could argue that it does, Wadud argues that it does not since while saying “no” to the text acknowledges that “we intervene with the text,” this intervention is not new, since “the collective community has always manipulated the text.”118 Wadud argues that “anything beyond literal Qur’an can be deemed supra-text, a refutation of the text, post-text, or a way of saying ‘no.’ ”119

One of the fundamental assumptions behind the contextualization methodology is that the text is contingent upon the social, political, and economic context in which it was revealed. Wadud argues that there are strong grounds for arguing for this contingency by, for example, establishing the linguistic discrepancies between Qur’anic language and scientific fact, illustrated by the fact that the Qur’an refers to the sun as rising.120 The idea that the Qur’an responded to concerns on the ground is established in classical Islam. Those engaged in a contextual interpretation take this notion of contingency — through the idea of a trajectory toward reform outside of the time frame of the Prophet’s life time — even further. However they do this without discussing the theological tension between the two notions, most notably relating to the question of whether the Qur’an was created or uncreated. In addition, it opens up a whole host of issues regarding what can and cannot be contextualized. For Muslims, the Prophet is an ideal example



whose behavior is to be emulated, and yet to what extent is he to be considered contingent?

Wadud briefly discusses the theological ramifications of the notion of contingency in a chapter of Inside the Gender Jihad. The notion of contingency, she states:

. . . directs us to a necessary encounter with the createdness of revelation, the linguistic means of divine disclosure. Although the divine is not created, the only means for humans to receive a revelation in ‘clear Arabic’ was for the Qur’an to utilize the linguistic constraints of Arabic as it strove to express the full nature of the divine.121

Wadud recognizes the tension between the notion of transcendence and createdness:

Thus, when we say that the Qur’an was revealed ‘through the mind of the Prophet,’ the combination of Allah’s transcendence as source of the message, onto or into the Prophet, a mundane human being selected for the receipt of revelation, we rely upon mundane or human language alone. We can only conclude that we do not and cannot know if the Qur’an was created or eternal with God, since we cannot know how it can actually be both at the same time. We do not, however, have the language to express this transcendent simultaneity.122

Wadud therefore acknowledges that there are theological challenges involved in addressing the notion of contingency. However, is there a point at which Wadud could push this further? Referring to Rahman’s ideas, she states that the revelation came “through the mind of the Prophet.”123 However she does not explain what this really means and how this could be used to explain verses such as 4:34. This is illustrated in the same chapter when Wadud mentions that the Prophet never beat his wives and brings up the Hadith: “I wanted one thing and God wanted something else.”124 However, how does this key statement relate to the claim that the revelation came “through the mind of the Prophet” and “onto or into the Prophet”?

The Contextual Approach: Methodological IssuesWhat do these examples tell us about contextualization as a methodology

for yielding a more liberal reading of the Qur’an? There is no doubt that contextual reading is an important tool in reconciling some of the more awkward verses from a feminist perspective and in breaking down their androcentric interpretations. For many Muslims, it is so important because the infallibility of the text cannot be questioned.

However, this methodology raises a number of issues which provide material for anti-feminist critiques. One of these is the point at which this kind



of interpretation leads to a state in which the openness of the text is limitless. How can a contextualized reading claim to come up with the ‘correct’ interpretation? To what extent does the notion of a trajectory toward reform come from within the text and to what extent is it imposed from outside in response to modern pressures? How can specific instructions be distinguished from universal values?

Of course, some of these questions come from the questionable assumption that current literal readings are more objective and compelling. However, raising questions which are not based on the assumption of the moral superiority of current literal readings is not necessarily to say, as Wadud accuses her critics of doing, that because women’s readings of the Qur’an are not perfect and comprehensive, “they are inadequate.”125

There are two main areas that feminist scholars need to engage with in order to deepen and strengthen this methodology. One of the most important issues is the fact that many of those engaged in it have not sufficiently addressed the question of the psychological manner of revelation.126 Rahman argued that “the feeling, the idea and the word are an organic entity and are born in the mind of the Prophet at once” although the origin of this feeling came from a source which was beyond the Prophet himself such that:

Whereas the source and the origin of this creative process lies beyond the ordinary reach of the human agency, nevertheless this process occurs, in some definite sense as an integral part of the agent’s mind. If the entire process occurs in his mind, then, in an ordinary sense, it is his word, insofar as the psychological process is concerned, but is Revealed Word insofar as its source lies beyond his reach.127

This organic relationship between the source and the Prophet’s mind and the way in which it relates to the question of “God wanted one thing and I wanted another” needs to be addressed. All three thinkers are in some way working within the train of thought that Fazlur Rahman established. However, as Saeed writes, Rahman’s work “was not complete, for the principles he gave at times lacked specific examples of application.”128 Rahman did not focus on this particular verse. Barlas is correct in saying that the idea that the revelation came through the mind of the Prophet “has been radically underplayed by Islamic orthodoxy.” However, the psychological aspect of the revelation is a part of Rahman’s work that has been under-explored within modernist readings of the Qur’an.

Addressing the psychology of revelation relates to question of the relationship between pragmatism and ideals. Mernissi and al-Talbi argue that God revealed 4:34 as a pragmatic way of reconciling differences in the community. Wadud argues that God was trying to improve the treatment of women but in a way that did not pose too much of a threat to the status quo.



Perhaps reconciling the tension between a deeply pragmatic God who adjusts to circumstances and the notion of universal, absolute values is best addressed within this framework.

Of course, addressing the relationship between Muhammad and the revelation leads to another methodological problem, which is the issue of obtaining knowledge of what the context of the verses actually was. The interpreters examined here have not taken a systematic approach to Hadith analysis and have disregarded Hadith that expound a misogynistic view at the same time as relying on Hadith to gain the context from which they derive their interpretation.129 In particular, this is the case with al-Talbi and Mernissi, whose interpretation of the verse directly depends on a certain understanding of its occasions of revelation. The Qur’an itself gives very few indications as to the precise dates of the Suras. Traditional Muslim methods of dating the Suras focus on the Hadith and the biography of the Prophet. However, the historical validity of this literature is questioned. Some Western methods of dating have focused more on stylistic criteria for categorizing Suras into Meccan and Medinan ones and yet there are numerous problems involved in doing so, not least the assumption that the Suras are composite. These thinkers do not address the issue of how we know what happened. This is a particular omission in the case of al-Talbi, who is a medieval historian.

The other area that needs to be developed relates to the question of certainty. It is arguable that what detracts from the contextualized methodology are the certainty claims that often accompany it. Ultimately, while a contextualized reading might be valid, there is no certainty about its correctness. While it could be argued that this de-legitimizes the feminist reading, this is not necessarily the case. Indeed expressing such a doubt is the most effective way of countering anti-feminist critique precisely because it does not engage with it in terms of certainty. It is in tune with the Qur’anic heritage of ikhtilaf, the notion that a text could yield a number of interpretations.

Ebrahim Moosa expresses concern with the position taken by many Muslim modernists that their definition of normativity is the ‘true’ one. He states that such a claim is a “weighty judgment on history that carries with it the implication that generations of humanity were simply wrong in their understanding of Islam.”130 Moosa argues that such an approach reinforces what he calls text-fundamentalism that emphasizes the need to find the hidden meaning of the text, whereas in fact the “text promises, but never delivers, new norms.”131 In fact, Moosa states, a “new reading of a text may have persuasive value, but that cannot be the end of the interpretive project, since there is a politics of interpretation to factor in as well.”132



The drive to reveal liberal norms as sanctioned by the shari “a has meant that such issues have been under-explored. However, the problem of certainty claims is touched upon in the work of Hadia Mubarak and Asma Barlas. Hadia Mubarak offers alternative readings of the verse by using a variety of methods within the Islamic traditional itself. While alternative readings coincide with her convictions about the Qur’an’s egalitarian ideals, she does not claim to have found a definitive reading.133 Barlas’ work discusses the issue of textual polysemy and argues that it is in itself a Qur’anic value. She avoids the potential for moral relativism by arguing that not all readings have equal value. She argues that the Qur’an itself warns against “reading it in a decontextualized, selective, and piecemeal way” and “confirms that some meanings, thus some readings, are better than others.”134 Thus, for her, “reading into the Qur’an various forms of Zulm as defined by its victims cannot be considered legitimate.”135 Ultimately, she argues the struggle is to endeavor “to discover what God may have intended.”136

Barlas suggests that Wadud’s reading of 4:34 as restricting existing practices may be correct but suggests another possibility, including that daraba refers to “holding in confinement” when all women rebel against their role as child-bearers, which for Barlas “appears to be the best construction that one can put” upon this verse.137 Since this verse has many different readings and is “the only teaching of the Qur’an that shows a measure of inequality,” she argues that “we should be willing to rethink our commitment to its centrality in our own understanding of the Qur’an’s teachings.”138

There is however a tension between Barlas’ commitment to textual polysemy and her claim to discover what God may have intended. However, in a postscript to the most recent edition of her work, Barlas, while admitting her own selectivity, partly resolves these issues along with the question of whether the “Qur’an is responsible for its misreadings.” She argues that the Qur’an anticipates such a possibility and “that the onus for reading the Qur’an correctly lies with the reader” and that one needs to develop a theory of textual responsibility.139

The idea of textual responsibility is a powerful one since it shifts the debate away from the question of which reading is correct and from the problem of assuming direct insight into God’s intentions. Rather it places the emphasis upon the moral responsibility involved in the choice of interpretation. Ultimately, whether a contextualized reading can be made to work — and how — will be an ongoing Islamic debate. Arguably, its greatest strength is that it can speak within mainstream Islam because it does not question the inerrancy of the text, although it does touch on interesting issues concerning the nature of revelation. The contextualized approach does, however, face a number of obstacles. It will be interesting to see whether



Wadud’s refutation of the “wife-beating” part of 4:34 and the shift to textual responsibility do in fact mean that feminist scholars will conclude that a contextualized approach can only go so far.

Endnotes1. n.a., “For Ourselves-Women Reading the Qur’an” (1990), 48.2. F. V. Greifenhagen, “North American Islamic Feminist Interpretation: The Case of

Surah 4:34, with a Comparison to Christian Feminist Interpretation,” Studies in Religion/ Sciences Religieuses 33/1 (2004), 65.

3. Charles Kurzman, Liberal Islam: A Sourcebook (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 14.

4. Suha Taji-Farouki, ed., Modern Muslim Intellectuals and the Qur’an (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 12.

5. Hadia Mubarak, “Breaking the Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34,” Hawwa 2/ 3 (2004), 261–2.

6. Abdullah Yusuf Ali, The Meaning of the Holy Qur’an (Washington, D.C.: Amana Corporation, 1989), 195. The English words in parentheses have been added by Yusuf Ali.

7. Ismail Ibn Umar Ibn Kathir, Tafsir Ibn Kathir (Abridged), trans. Shaykh Safiur-Rahman al-Mubarakpuri, 10 vols., vol. 2 (Riyadh: Darussalam, 2000), 442.

8. Mohamed Mahmoud, “To Beat or Not to Beat: On the Exegetical Dilemmas over Qur’an, 4:34,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 126/ 4 (2006), 537.

9. Muhammad al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira (Tunis: Ceres Editions, 1996), 128–9; al-Tabari, Tafsir Al-Tabari, vol. 8 (Cairo: Dar al-Ma‘arif ), 313–16; Ibn Kathir, Tafsir Ibn Kathir (Abridged), 446. Mubarak argues that this is a weak hadith, Mubarak, “Breaking the Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34”, 277.

10. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 129; Mahmoud, “To Beat or Not to Beat: On the Exegetical Dilemmas over Qur’an, 4:34”, 545.

11. Sayyid Qutb, Fi Zilal Al-Qur’an (In the Shade of the Qur’an), 6 vols., vol. 4 (Beirut: Dar al-Shuruq, 1982), 137.

12. Yusuf al-Qaradawi, The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam, trans. M. Siddiqi K. al-Hilbawi, and S. Shukri (Cairo: al-Falah, 2001), 200.

13. The term “literal” is, in some respects, problematic and is used for comparative purposes only.

14. Amina Wadud, Qur’an and Woman (New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 71.

15. Abu Al-‘Ala Maududi, Purdah and the Status of Woman in Islam, 16th ed. (Lahore (Pakistan): Islamic Publications, 1998), 146.

16. Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an (Minneapolis: Bibliotheca Islamica, 1989), 49. This is reflected in Abdullah Yusuf Ali’s translation, which is a considered ‘liberal’ one, n.a., “For Ourselves-Women Reading the Qur’an”, 58.

17. Trans by Laleh Bakhtiar, “The Sublime Qur’an,” (Chicago: Kazi Publications, Inc., 2007), 94.

18. http://www.islamawareness.net/Wife/beating1.html, (accessed, June 25, 2006).19. Edward Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon, 8 vols., vol. 5 (Beirut: Librairie Du

Liban, 1874), 1779.

http://www.islamawareness.net/Wife/beating1.html



20. Mubarak, “Breaking the Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34”, 282–5.

21. Muslims believe that Muhammad received revelations from God via the Angel Gabriel over a period of about 22 years. The first was in roughly 610 C.E. and the last was the year of his death in about 632 C.E.

22. Abdullah Saeed, Interpreting the Qur’an: Towards a Contemporary Approach (London and New York: Routledge, 2006), 1.

23. Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an, 48.24. Andrew Rippin, Muslims: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices, 2nd ed. (London:

Routledge, 2001), 236.25. Saeed, Interpreting the Qur’an: Towards a Contemporary Approach, 39.26. Ibid., 39.27. “When We substitute one revelation for another — and God knows best what

He reveals (in stages) — they say, “Thou art but a forger,” But most of them understand not.”28. Fazlur Rahman, Islam and Modernity (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,

1982), 3.29. Ibid., 26.30. Ibid., 2.31. Ibid., 5.32. Ibid., 7.33. Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an, 48.34. “And if you fear that you will not deal fairly by the orphans, marry of the women,

who seem good to you, two or three or four, and if you fear that you will not deal justly, then on or what your right hands possess. Thus it is more likely that ye will not do injustice” (4:3).

35. Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur’an, 48. Rahman has provided the italics in this quotation.

36. Fatima Mernissi, Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, trans. Mary Jo Lakeland (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995), 8–9.

37. Ibid., 34, 39, 49, 60, 73.38. Ibid., 93.39. Ibid., 20, 147.40. Ibid., 129.41. Ibid., 118.42. Ibid., 119.43. Ibid., viii.44. Ibid., 118.45. “God (thus) directs you as regards your children’s (inheritance): to the male, a

portion equal to that of two females: if only daughters, two or more, their share is two-thirds of the inheritance; if only one, her share is a half” (4:11).

46. Mernissi, Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, 120.47. Ibid., 126.48. Ibid., 129.49. “O ye who believe! Enter not the Prophet’s houses, — until leave is given you,

— for a meal, (and then) not (so early as) to wait for its preparation: but when ye are invited, enter; and when ye have taken your meal, disperse, without seeking familiar talk. Such (behavior) annoys the Prophet: he is ashamed to dismiss you, but God is not ashamed (to tell you) the truth. And when ye ask (his ladies) for anything ye want, ask them from before a screen: that makes for greater purity for your hearts and for theirs” (33:53).

50. Mernissi, Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, 85–6.



51. Ibid., 114.52. Ibid., 106.53. Ibid., 92.54. Ibid., 114.55. Ibid., 164.56. Ibid., 138.57. Mubarak argues that this is not a valid Prophetic hadith. Mubarak, “Breaking the

Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34”, 280.58. Mernissi, Women and Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, 145.59. Ibid., 142, 145.60. Ibid., 150, 155.61. Ibid., 154.62. Ibid., 155, 159–60.63. Ibid., 129.64. Mohamed Talbi, “Unavoidable Dialogue in a Pluralist World: A Personal

Acccount,” Encounters 1/ 1 (1995), 57.65. Ronald Nettler has published a number of book chapters and articles on Talbi’s

work. Nettler, Ronald, “Mohamed Talbi on Understand the Qur’an.” In Hodeen Musley, Intelleduals and the Qur’an, edited by Suha Taji Farouki, 225–39. Oxford University Press, 2004. “Mohamed Talbi: For Dialogue between All Religions.” In Muslem Jewish Encounters: Intellectual Traditions and Modern Politics edited by Suhn Taji-Farouki and Ronald Nettler, 171–99: Harwood, 1998. “Mohmed Talbis commentally on Qur’an IV, 34. A’Historic Reading’ of a Verse concerning the dyscipeine of Women.” The Maghreb Review 24/1–2 (1999): 19–34.

66. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 128.67. Ibid., 120, 133, 118.68. Ibid., 125.69. Ronald Nettler, “Mohammed Talbi’s Commentary on Qur’an Iv:34: A ‘Historical

Reading’ of a Verse Concerning the Disciplining of Women,” The Maghreb Review 24/ 1–2 (1999), 19.

70. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 118.71. Ronald Nettler, “Mohamed Talbi on Understanding the Qur’an,” in Modern

Muslim Intellectuals and the Qur’an, ed. Suha Taji Farouki (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 237.

72. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 121.73. Ibid., 119.74. Ibid., 121–3.75. Ibid., 122–4.76. Ibid., 125.77. Ibid., 120.78. Ibid., 126.79. Ibid., 124–5.80. Ibid., 124.81. Nettler, “Mohammed Talbi’s Commentary on Qur’an IV:34: A ‘Historical Reading’

of a Verse Concerning the Disciplining of Women”, 29–9.82. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 133.83. Ronald Nettler, “Mohamed Talbi: “For Dialogue between All Religions,” in

Muslim-Jewish Encounters: Intellectual Traditions and Modern Politics ed. Ronald and Suha Netter, Taji-Farouki, Studies in Muslim-Jewish Relations (Harwood, 1998), 179–80.

84. al-Talbi, Ummat Al-Wasat: Al-Islam Wa Tahaddiyat Al-Mu’asira, 132.



85. Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 1.86. Ibid., x, 2.87. Ibid., xii.88. Ibid., 11, 5.89. Ibid., 3–4, xiii.90. Ibid., 78.91. Ibid., xiii.92. Ibid., xiii93. Ibid., xxi.94. Ibid., 79.95. Eg. 4:1; 13:11; 4:124, Ibid., 81.96. Ibid., 82.97. Ibid., 15.98. Ibid., 36, 15.99. Ibid., 29, 26.100. Amina Wadud, “Qur’an and Woman,” in Liberal Islam: A Sourcebook, ed. Charles

Kurzman (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 127–38 (131).101. Ibid., 132.102. Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 64.103. Translated by Yusuf Ali as “disloyalty and ill-conduct”; Mernissi, Women and

Islam: An Historical and Theological Enquiry, 155; Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 75.104. Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 77.105. Ibid., 75.106. Ibid., 76.107. Ibid., 78.108. Ibid., 76–77.109. Barlas is a feminist scholar, Professor of Politics at Ithaca college, and author

of Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’an, Asma Barlas, Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’an (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006), 25.

110. Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 63.111. Barlas, Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the

Qur’an, 14.112. Wadud, Qur’an and Woman, 1.113. Amina Wadud, Inside the Gender Jihad: Women’s Reform in Islam (Oxford:

Oneworld, 2006), 6.114. Ibid., 2.115. Ibid., 192.116. Ibid., 200.117. Ibid., 203.118. Ibid., 204.119. Ibid., 192.120. Ibid., 212.121. Ibid., 212.122. Ibid., 210.123. Ibid., 193.124. Ibid., 202.125. Wadud, Inside the Gender Jihad: Women’s Reform in Islam, 189.126. Fazlur Rahman, “Divine Revelation and the Prophet,” Hamdard Islamicus 1/ 2

(1978); Saeed, Interpreting the Qur’an: Towards a Contemporary Approach.



127. Rahman, “Divine Revelation and the Prophet”, 68–70.128. Abdullah Saeed, “Fazlur Rahman: A Framework for Interpreting the Ethico-Legal

Content of the Qur’an,” in Modern Muslim Intellectuals and the Qur’an, ed. Suha Taji-Farouki (London: Oxford University Press, 2004), 59.

129. For a much better treatment of the Hadith, see, Mubarak, “Breaking the Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34.” who argues that “while feminist critics attempt to taint Hadith literature as misogynistic, it is from this literature that one derives the clearest prohibitions and denunciations against wife beating from the Prophet (pbuh) himself,” 276.

130. Ebrahim Moosa, “The Poetics and Politics of Law after Empire: Reading Women’s Rights in the Contestations of Law,” UCLA Journal of Islamic and Near Eastern Law 1/ 1 (2001–02), 43.

131. Ibid., 42.132. Ibid., 44.133. Mubarak, “Breaking the Interpretive Monopoly: A Re-Examination of Verse 4:34”,

265, 287, 268.134. E.g. 5:14, and 5:44, Barlas, Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal

Interpretations of the Qur’an, 16.135. Ibid., 17.136. Ibid., 21.137. Ibid., 188–9. It is an argument that Riffat Hassan has made Riffat Hassan,

“Feminism in Islam,” in Feminism in World Religion, ed. Arvind Sharma and Katherine Young (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 265 and which Mohamed Mahmoud calls “an extremely far-fetched proposition that cannot be justified on the grounds of the verses evidence or the historical context of the Muslim community,” Mahmoud, “To Beat or Not to Beat: On the Exegetical Dilemmas over Qur’an, 4:34,” 547.

138. Barlas, Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’an, 198, 189.

139. Ibid., 205–7. Laury Silvers has taken a similar approach to this very verse by using the ideas of Ibn al-‘Arabi. Laury Silvers, “In the Book We Have Left Out Nothing (Q6:38). The Ethical problem of the Existence of Verse 4:34 in the Qur’an,” (paper delivered at the American Academy of Religion Conference, November 2006).

A Contextual Approach to Women's Rights in the Quran - Readings of 4-34

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