رِسَالَةُ الْمَحْوِ

الْحَمْدُ لِلَّهِ الَّذِي عَلَّمَ بِالْقَلَمِ، عَلَّمَ الْإِنْسَانَ مَا لَمْ يَعْلَمْ، وَرَفَعَ بِالْعِلْمِ أَقْوَامًا، وَوَضَعَ بِهِ آخَرِينَ حِينَ حَجَبَهُمْ عِلْمُهُمْ عَنْ رَبِّهِمْ.

El-hamdü lillâhillezî alleme bi’l-kalem, alleme’l-insâne mâ lem ya‘lem, ve rafea bi’l-ilmi akvâmen, ve vadaa bihî âharîne hîne hacebehüm ilmühüm an rabbihim.

Praise belongs to God, who taught by the pen; He taught man what he did not know. By knowledge He raised up some peoples, and by it He brought others low — when their knowledge veiled them from their Lord.

أَحْمَدُهُ حَمْدَ مَنْ يَعْلَمُ أَنَّ كُلَّ عِلْمٍ لَا يُرَدُّ إِلَيْهِ فَهُوَ جَهْلٌ مُزَيَّنٌ، وَأَنَّ كُلَّ مَعْرِفَةٍ لَا تُورِثُ أَدَبًا فَهِيَ حِمْلٌ مُتْعِبٌ.

Ahmedühû hamde men ya‘lemü enne külle ilmin lâ yüraddü ileyhi fehüve cehlün müzeyyen, ve enne külle ma‘rifetin lâ tûrisü edeben fehiye himlün müt‘ib.

I praise Him with the praise of one who knows that every knowledge not referred back to Him is but an adorned ignorance, and every gnosis that bequeaths no courtesy (adab) is a wearisome burden.

وَالصَّلَاةُ وَالسَّلَامُ عَلَى مَنْ كَانَ أَعْلَمَ الْخَلْقِ بِاللَّهِ وَأَخْشَاهُمْ لَهُ، سَيِّدِنَا مُحَمَّدٍ، وَعَلَى آلِهِ وَصَحْبِهِ أَهْلِ الْعِلْمِ النَّافِعِ وَالْقَلْبِ الْخَاشِعِ.

Ve’s-salâtü ve’s-selâmü alâ men kâne a‘leme’l-halki billâhi ve ahşâhüm leh, seyyidinâ Muhammedin, ve alâ âlihî ve sahbihî ehli’l-ilmi’n-nâfi‘i ve’l-kalbi’l-hâşi‘.

Blessings and peace be upon the one who, of all creation, knew God best and feared Him most — our master Muhammad — and upon his family and his Companions, the people of beneficial knowledge and the humbled heart.

فَقَدْ قَالَ اللَّهُ تَعَالَى وَهُوَ أَصْدَقُ الْقَائِلِينَ: «هَلْ يَسْتَوِي الَّذِينَ يَعْلَمُونَ وَالَّذِينَ لَا يَعْلَمُونَ؟»

Fekad kâlellâhü teâlâ ve hüve asdaku’l-kâilîn: «Hel yestevî’llezîne ya‘lemûne vellezîne lâ ya‘lemûn?»

God Most High — and He is the most truthful of speakers — has said: «Are those who know and those who know not ever equal?»

وَإِنَّ الْجَوَابَ لَمَخْبُوءٌ فِي ثَنَايَا السُّؤَالِ: لَا وَاللَّهِ، مَا يَسْتَوِيَانِ، كَمَا لَا يَسْتَوِي النُّورُ وَالظُّلْمَةُ، وَلَا الْحَيُّ وَالْمَيِّتُ، وَلَا الْبَصِيرُ وَالْأَعْمَى.

Ve inne’l-cevâbe lemahbûün fî senâya’s-süâl: Lâ vallâhi, mâ yesteviyân, kemâ lâ yestevi’n-nûru ve’z-zulmetü, ve le’l-hayyü ve’l-meyyitü, ve le’l-basîru ve’l-a‘mâ.

And the answer lies hidden in the folds of the question: No, by God, they are not equal — just as light and darkness are not equal, nor the living and the dead, nor the seeing and the blind.

وَلٰكِنِ اعْلَمْ — رَحِمَكَ اللَّهُ — أَيَّ عِلْمٍ أَرَادَ؛ فَإِنَّهُ سُبْحَانَهُ مَا أَطْلَقَ هٰذِهِ الْكَلِمَةَ إِلَّا بَعْدَ أَنْ وَصَفَ عَبْدًا قَانِتًا آنَاءَ اللَّيْلِ، سَاجِدًا وَقَائِمًا، يَحْذَرُ الْآخِرَةَ وَيَرْجُو رَحْمَةَ رَبِّهِ.

Ve lâkini’lem —rahimeke’llâh— eyye ilmin erâd; feinnehû sübhânehû mâ atleka hâzihi’l-kelimete illâ ba‘de en vasafe abden kâniten ânâe’l-leyl, sâciden ve kâimen, yahzeru’l-âhirate ve yercû rahmete rabbih.

But — may God have mercy on you — know which knowledge He meant; for He, Glorified is He, uttered this word only after describing a servant devoutly obedient through the watches of the night, prostrate and standing, wary of the Hereafter and hoping for the mercy of his Lord.

فَالْعِلْمُ الَّذِي رَفَعَهُ اللَّهُ هُوَ الْعِلْمُ الَّذِي يَخْفِضُ صَاحِبَهُ بَيْنَ يَدَيْهِ؛ عِلْمٌ يَزِيدُ الْعَبْدَ انْكِسَارًا كُلَّمَا ازْدَادَ اطِّلَاعًا، وَيُورِثُهُ خَشْيَةً كُلَّمَا اتَّسَعَ بَابُهُ.

Fe’l-ilmü’llezî rafeahü’llâhü hüve’l-ilmü’llezî yahfidu sâhibehû beyne yedeyh; ilmün yezîdü’l-abde’nkisâren küllemâ’zdâde’ttılâan, ve yûrisühû haşyeten küllemâ’ttesea bâbüh.

So the knowledge God has exalted is the knowledge that lowers its bearer before Him: a knowledge that increases the servant's brokenness the more he learns, and bequeaths him awe the wider its door opens.

فَلَيْسَ الْعَالِمُ مَنْ كَثُرَ مَحْفُوظُهُ، بَلْ مَنْ خَشِيَ مَعْبُودَهُ. قَالَ تَعَالَى: «إِنَّمَا يَخْشَى اللَّهَ مِنْ عِبَادِهِ الْعُلَمَاءُ» — فَجَعَلَ مَدَارَ الْعِلْمِ الْخَشْيَةَ لَا الْعِبَارَةَ، وَالْأَثَرَ فِي الْقَلْبِ لَا الْكَثْرَةَ فِي اللِّسَانِ.

Feleyse’l-âlimü men kesüra mahfûzuh, bel men haşiye ma‘bûdeh. Kâle teâlâ: «İnnemâ yahşa’llâhe min ibâdihi’l-ulemâ» — feceale medâre’l-ilmi’l-haşyete le’l-ibârate, ve’l-esere fi’l-kalbi le’l-kesrete fi’l-lisân.

The scholar is not the one whose memorization is vast, but the one who fears his Worshipped Lord. God Most High said: «Of His servants, only the learned truly fear God» — thus He made the axis of knowledge to be awe, not expression; its effect in the heart, not abundance on the tongue.

فَمَنْ عَلِمَ وَلَمْ يَخْشَ، فَعِلْمُهُ عَلَيْهِ لَا لَهُ؛ وَمَثَلُهُ كَمَثَلِ الْحِمَارِ يَحْمِلُ أَسْفَارًا: يَنُوءُ بِثِقَلِهَا وَلَا يَنْتَفِعُ بِنُورِهَا، فَالْكُتُبُ عَلَى ظَهْرِهِ وَالْجَهْلُ فِي صَدْرِهِ؛ يَحْمِلُ الْعِلْمَ وَلَا يَحْمِلُهُ الْعِلْمُ.

Femen alime ve lem yahşe, fe ilmühû aleyhi lâ leh; ve meselühû kemeseli’l-himâri yahmilü esfârâ: yenûü bisıkalihâ ve lâ yentefiu binûrihâ, fe’l-kütübü alâ zahrihî ve’l-cehlü fî sadrih; yahmilü’l-ilme ve lâ yahmilühü’l-ilm.

Whoever knows yet does not fear — his knowledge is against him, not for him; his likeness is that of a donkey laden with books: it staggers under their weight yet profits nothing from their light; the books are on its back and the ignorance in its breast — it carries knowledge, but knowledge does not carry it.

وَهٰهُنَا سِرٌّ دَقِيقٌ: إِنَّ الْعِلْمَ بَابٌ وَحِجَابٌ مَعًا، بِحَسَبِ صَاحِبِهِ.

Ve hâhünâ sirrun dakîk: inne’l-ilme bâbün ve hicâbün meân, bihasebi sâhibih.

And here lies a subtle secret: knowledge is, at once, a door and a veil — according to the one who holds it.

فَإِنْ وَقَفَ الْعَبْدُ عِنْدَ عِلْمِهِ، وَأَعْجَبَتْهُ نَفْسُهُ بِهِ، وَنَسَبَهُ إِلَى ذَكَائِهِ وَكَدِّهِ، صَارَ الْعِلْمُ حِجَابًا بَيْنَهُ وَبَيْنَ مَعْلُومِهِ؛ فَكُلَّمَا ازْدَادَ عِلْمًا ازْدَادَ عَنِ اللَّهِ بُعْدًا، كَمَنْ أَوْقَدَ سِرَاجًا فَأَدَامَ النَّظَرَ إِلَى السِّرَاجِ وَنَسِيَ الطَّرِيقَ.

Fein vakafe’l-abdü inde ilmihî, ve a‘cebethü nefsühû bih, ve nesebehû ilâ zekâihî ve keddih, sâra’l-ilmü hicâben beynehû ve beyne ma‘lûmih; feküllemâ’zdâde ilmen’zdâde ani’llâhi bu‘den, kemen evkade sirâcen feedâme’n-nazara ile’s-sirâci ve nesiye’t-tarîk.

If the servant halts at his knowledge, his soul vaunting itself by it and ascribing it to his own cleverness and toil, then knowledge becomes a veil between him and what he knows; the more he learns, the farther he drifts from God — like one who lights a lamp, then keeps his gaze upon the lamp and forgets the road.

وَإِنْ رَدَّ الْعَبْدُ عِلْمَهُ إِلَى مُعَلِّمِهِ الْأَوَّلِ، وَعَبَرَ مِنَ الْأَثَرِ إِلَى الْمُؤَثِّرِ، وَمِنَ الْآيَةِ إِلَى مَنْ تَدُلُّ عَلَيْهِ، صَارَ الْعِلْمُ بَابًا مَفْتُوحًا يَدْخُلُ مِنْهُ إِلَى مَعْرِفَةِ رَبِّهِ، وَيَزْدَادُ بِهِ قُرْبًا كُلَّمَا ازْدَادَ فَهْمًا.

Ve in radde’l-abdü ilmehû ilâ muallimihi’l-evvel, ve abera mine’l-eseri ile’l-müessir, ve mine’l-âyeti ilâ men tedüllü aleyh, sâra’l-ilmü bâben meftûhan yedhulü minhü ilâ ma‘rifeti rabbih, ve yezdâdü bihî kurben küllemâ’zdâde fehmâ.

But if the servant refers his knowledge back to its first Teacher, passing from the trace to its Maker, and from the sign to the One it points to, then knowledge becomes an open door; through it he enters into the knowledge of his Lord, and the more his understanding grows, the nearer he draws.

فَالْعِلْمُ الْوَاحِدُ يَكُونُ لِهٰذَا سُلَّمًا وَلِذٰلِكَ سِجْنًا؛ وَالْفَرْقُ كُلُّهُ فِي وِجْهَةِ الْقَلْبِ.

Fe’l-ilmü’l-vâhidü yekûnü lihâzâ süllemen ve lizâlike sicnâ; ve’l-farku küllühû fî vichheti’l-kalb.

Thus one and the same knowledge becomes a ladder for one and a prison for another; and the whole difference lies in the heart's direction.

فَاجْعَلْ — يَا طَالِبَ الْعِلْمِ — مَعْرِفَتَكَ مِيزَانًا لَا زِينَةً: مِيزَانًا تَزِنُ بِهِ نَفْسَكَ فَتَعْرِفُ قَدْرَهَا، لَا زِينَةً تَتَحَلَّى بِهَا بَيْنَ النَّاسِ فَتَنْسَى رَبَّهَا.

Fec‘al —yâ tâlibe’l-ilm— ma‘rifeteke mîzânen lâ zîneten: mîzânen tezinü bihî nefseke fete‘rifü kadrahâ, lâ zîneten tetehallâ bihâ beyne’n-nâsi fetensâ rabbehâ.

So, O seeker of knowledge, make your gnosis a balance, not an ornament: a balance by which you weigh yourself and come to know your worth — not an ornament you adorn yourself with among people, forgetting your Lord.

فَإِنَّمَا الْعِلْمُ النَّافِعُ مَا غَابَ فِيهِ الْعَالِمُ عَنْ دَعْوَى نَفْسِهِ، وَحَضَرَ فِيهِ الْمَقْصُودُ مِنْ عِلْمِهِ؛ كَالزُّجَاجَةِ الصَّافِيَةِ لَا تُرَى لِذَاتِهَا، بَلْ يُرَى النُّورُ مِنْ خِلَالِهَا.

Feinneme’l-ilmü’n-nâfiu mâ gâbe fîhi’l-âlimü an da‘vâ nefsih, ve hadara fîhi’l-maksûdü min ilmih; ke’z-zücâceti’s-sâfiyeti lâ türâ lizâtihâ, bel yüre’n-nûru min hilâlihâ.

For beneficial knowledge is that in which the scholar vanishes from the claim of his own self, while the purpose of his knowledge stands present; like clear glass, which is not seen for itself, but through which the light is seen.

وَاعْلَمْ أَنَّ الْكِتَابَ لَا يَعْلَمُ، وَإِنَّمَا يَعْلَمُ مَنْ قَرَأَ فَخَشَعَ. فَكَمْ مِنْ صَحِيفَةٍ تَحْمِلُ الْحِكْمَةَ وَهِيَ لَا تَعْقِلُهَا، وَكَمْ مِنْ خِزَانَةٍ مَلْأَى بِالْأَسْفَارِ وَهِيَ أَجْهَلُ مَا فِي الْبَيْتِ.

Va‘lem enne’l-kitâbe lâ ya‘lem, ve innemâ ya‘lemü men karae fehaşea. Fekem min sahîfetin tahmilü’l-hikmete ve hiye lâ ta‘kıluhâ, ve kem min hizânetin mel’â bi’l-esfâri ve hiye echelü mâ fi’l-beyt.

And know that the book does not know; only the one who reads and is humbled knows. How many a page bears wisdom yet does not comprehend it; how many a cabinet is filled with volumes yet is the most ignorant thing in the house.

فَلَيْسَ الشَّرَفُ لِلْوِعَاءِ الَّذِي يَحْفَظُ، بَلْ لِلْقَلْبِ الَّذِي يَفْهَمُ وَيَنْحَنِي. فَكُنْ أَنْتَ الْقَارِئَ الْخَاشِعَ لَا الْخِزَانَةَ الْغَافِلَةَ؛ فَإِنَّ الْعِبْرَةَ لَيْسَتْ بِمَا تَحْمِلُ، بَلْ بِمَا يَحْمِلُكَ إِلَيْهِ عِلْمُكَ.

Feleyse’ş-şerefü li’l-viâi’llezî yahfez, bel li’l-kalbi’llezî yefhemü ve yenhanî. Fekün ente’l-kârie’l-hâşia le’l-hizânete’l-gâfileh; feinne’l-ibrate leyset bimâ tahmilü, bel bimâ yahmilüke ileyhi ilmük.

Honour belongs not to the vessel that memorizes, but to the heart that understands and bows. Be the humbled reader, not the heedless cabinet; for what matters is not what you carry, but where your knowledge carries you.

ثُمَّ تَأَمَّلْ خِتَامَ الْآيَةِ: «إِنَّمَا يَتَذَكَّرُ أُولُو الْأَلْبَابِ» — فَجَعَلَ ثَمَرَةَ الْعِلْمِ الذِّكْرَى، وَجَعَلَ أَهْلَهُ أُولِي الْأَلْبَابِ: أَصْحَابَ اللُّبِّ الَّذِينَ أَخَذُوا لُبَّ الْعِلْمِ وَتَرَكُوا قِشْرَهُ، فَعَرَفُوا فَعَمِلُوا، وَعَلِمُوا فَخَافُوا، وَازْدَادُوا فَتَوَاضَعُوا.

Sümme teemmel hitâme’l-âyeh: «İnnemâ yetezekkerü ulü’l-elbâb» — feceale semerate’l-ilmi’z-zikrâ, ve ceale ehlehû uli’l-elbâb: ashâbe’l-lübbi’llezîne ehazû lübbe’l-ilmi ve terakû kışrah, fe arafû fe amilû, ve alimû fe hâfû, ve’zdâdû fe tevâdaû.

Then ponder the close of the verse: «Only those of understanding (ūlū al-albāb) take heed» — thus He made the fruit of knowledge to be remembrance, and made its people the possessors of the kernel: those who took the kernel of knowledge and left its husk; who knew and acted, who knew and feared, who grew only more humble as they increased.

فَهُمُ الَّذِينَ لَا يَسْتَوُونَ بِغَيْرِهِمْ؛ لَا لِأَنَّهُمْ أَكْثَرُ مَحْفُوظًا، بَلْ لِأَنَّهُمْ أَصْدَقُ خَشْيَةً.

Fehümü’llezîne lâ yestevûne bigayrihim; lâ liennehüm ekserü mahfûzâ, bel liennehüm asdaku haşyeten.

These are the ones who are not equal to others — not because their memorization is greater, but because their awe is more sincere.

فَيَا مَنْ آتَاهُ اللَّهُ عِلْمًا أَوْ صَنْعَةً أَوْ مَالًا أَوْ سُلْطَانًا: لَا تَقِفْ عِنْدَ الْعَطِيَّةِ فَتَحْجُبَكَ عَنِ الْمُعْطِي، وَلَا تَنْسِبِ الْفَضْلَ إِلَى نَفْسِكَ فَيَنْقَلِبَ الْفَضْلُ وَبَالًا.

Feyâ men âtâhü’llâhü ilmen ev san‘aten ev mâlen ev sultânâ: lâ tekıf inde’l-atıyyeti fetahcübeke ani’l-mu‘tî, ve lâ tensibi’l-fadle ilâ nefsike feyenkalibe’l-fadlü vebâlâ.

O you to whom God has given knowledge, or craft, or wealth, or power: do not halt at the gift and let it veil you from the Giver; do not ascribe the favour to yourself and so let the favour turn into a ruin.

بَلِ امْحُ دَعْوَى نَفْسِكَ تَبْقَ لَكَ النِّعْمَةُ، وَرُدَّ الْأَمْرَ إِلَى أَهْلِهِ يُبَارَكْ لَكَ فِي الْأَثَرِ؛ فَإِنَّ مَا بُنِيَ بِالسَّبَبِ لَا يَبْقَى إِلَّا بِالْمُسَبِّبِ. وَذٰلِكَ هُوَ الْمَحْوُ: أَنْ تَفْنَى دَعْوَاكَ فَيَبْقَى فَضْلُهُ، وَأَنْ تَغِيبَ أَنْتَ فَيَحْضُرَ هُوَ.

Beli’mhu da‘vâ nefsike tebka leke’n-ni‘meh, ve rudde’l-emre ilâ ehlihî yübârek leke fi’l-eser; feinne mâ büniye bi’s-sebebi lâ yebkâ illâ bi’l-müsebbib. Ve zâlike hüve’l-mahv: en tefnâ da‘vâke feyebkâ fadluh, ve en tegîbe ente feyahdura hû.

Rather, efface the claim of your self, that the blessing may remain with you; return the matter to its rightful Owner, that you may be blessed in the trace. For what is built upon a cause endures only through the Causer. This is effacement (mahv): that your claim should perish so that His favour may abide; that you should vanish so that He may be present.