Why do you use your mind?
It was a blessed Friday morning, 21 Ṣafar 1447 AH, when we set out at nine o’clock on the train bound for al-Madīnah al-Ṭayyibah. Those moments carried within them a spiritual attraction, as though every particle of the air was infused with luminous fragrance, and an unseen elation spread across the heart and mind. Among this caravan of yearning was a son of the Subcontinent, Muhammad ʿAlī Rasūl, whose age was approaching fifty years, yet whose heart and intellect still burned with the same eagerness and intensity found in a young seeker of knowledge. In the commercial world of America, he had achieved notable success; in the realm of thought and reflection, he had for years been my student. It was this bond of knowledge and affection that nurtured our intellectual and spiritual companionship.
What pleased him most in my method of teaching was that I do not present knowledge as a mere heap of words, but rather I address the intellect, clarifying every meaning in such a way that it becomes engraved in the heart and mind, a permanent possession of one’s inner being. This is why, in the early hours of our journey, we drifted into recollections of the past, and stories long confined to memory came alive upon our tongues.
He told me: “When I was in school and asked a question, the teacher, in irritation, would say: ‘Just say what I say! Why do you use your mind?’” This remark was not a mere passing rebuke, but a sign of a deeper intellectual malaise — a sickness of thought whereby enquiry is treated as insolence and reflection as deviation. This attitude is not confined to one person; it has permeated many of our educational institutions and seminaries. It extinguishes the flames of curiosity in students and extinguishes the very lamp of true knowledge.
Time passed, and there came a period when I took interest in the work of the Tablīghī Jamāʿah. I once said to my companions: “When you speak about religion, you should also give clear and reasoned explanation, so that the listener’s mind fully absorbs it.” They responded in astonishment: “What need is there for that?” I replied: *“The Qurʾān repeatedly exhorts: ‘Do you not take heed? Do you not reflect?’”
Their reply made me think even more. They said: “So you have understood the Qurʾān just by reading an Urdu translation? To understand the Qurʾān one must first master fifteen sciences. That alone will take forty years. And even after that, only a few individuals chosen by God can truly understand it.”
I was stunned. And I asked myself: Did the Lord of the Worlds really reveal His final Book so that ordinary people could never directly understand it? Is this Book, sent as “guidance for mankind”, to be the exclusive inheritance of a select few? Must the rest of the community remain forever at the mercy of commentators, never tasting directly from the speech of the Creator?
The Qurʾān itself declares: “And indeed We have made the Qurʾān easy for remembrance; so is there any who will take heed?” (54:17). Where then did this contrived difficulty arise? Who invented this practice of locking up knowledge and chaining the intellect?
In many of our seminaries and circles of learning, the habit has spread of scolding the one who asks questions, as though questioning were a danger to religion. By saying “Why do you use your mind?” we extinguish in our students that flame of enquiry which is the very fuel of knowledge.
But the temperament of the religion of Muḥammad صلى الله عليه وسلم is the very opposite of this prevailing attitude. The Qurʾān calls people to reflection. The Messenger of God صلى الله عليه وسلم answered the questions of seekers with patience and affection. The Companions would persistently investigate, asking “how” and “why”. The dīn of Muḥammad صلى الله عليه وسلم illuminates the intellect; it does not extinguish it.
Our survival depends on replacing “Why do you use your mind?” with “Why do you not reflect?” For the community that ceases to think, ceases to move; and the one that ceases to move is soon buried in the graveyards of history, or cast aside upon a refuse heap.
This is the message that every Muslim must inscribe within their heart and mind: that the purpose of religion is not mere blind imitation, but investigation, reflection, and the awakening of consciousness. This is the path upon which the Ummah of Muḥammad صلى الله عليه وسلم can attain to the true measure of knowledge and action, and thereby benefit from the guidance of its Lord.
And this is the very lesson which every student, every exegete, and every preacher must understand: that the light of religion shines forth through the lamp of reason. Whoever shuts the door of reason leaves himself and his followers in darkness. History has confirmed time and again that the nations who abandon enquiry and the desire to question fall into the depths of decline, while those who nurture intellect and investigation rise to the heights of knowledge and guidance.
Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6755
