The Heirs of the Prophets Reap Otherworldly Profit

The legacy of the Islamic scholarly tradition, it could be said, is one of division. We often think of the storied classes of premodern scholars as markedly more spiritually adept than us, indeed as having set the tone and penned the parameters for what it means to be a true Muslim scholar or student of knowledge. Yet some of their finest were principally concerned with criticizing a hum of complacency that had overtaken their contemporaries. A paradigmatic example of this tension between the culture of scholars and the vision for what scholarship should be presents itself in Heirs of the Prophets by 14th-century scholar Ibn Rajab Al-Hanbali.

Ibn Rajab lived at a time when traveling for the sake of knowledge was still common, yet centers of learning whether in madrasas or housed in masajid where well-qualified scholars taught were accessibly dispersed in the major cities of Islam. This is significant because Ibn Rajab emphasizes the value of knowledge and its pursuit by pointing us to stories of individuals in earlier times who traveled great distances to obtain knowledge that was not locally available. The necessity to travel was not as pronounced when Ibn Rajab was engaged in his learning and scholarship.

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Traveling for knowledge involved a great deal of uncertainty. You could pack your provisions, but you could not be sure they would last you the entirety of your travel. You could—to the best of your ability– map out your journey, but you could not be certain when you would arrive. You could carry some wealth with you, but perhaps it would run out and you might find yourself in a situation where you need to take up residence in a place that was supposed to be just a pit stop to make some wealth. You could pack some valuable possessions hoping to sell them when you arrive at your destination but perhaps you might need to start selling them off before then to pay for food. The difficulties inherent in travel meant that one could expect to face numerous trials that would or could build character. You would learn to deal with uncertainty by relying on Allah. On the long journey, you would learn to practice patience. If you did not immediately find your intended teacher or they were not yet available, you would still need to practice patience.

Dovetailing on that, you would practice gratitude when a stranger gave you a helping hand, or when a local invited you to eat with them, or when your riding beast exerted itself beyond reason to get you safely to your final location, when your money did not run out as you feared it would. You would have to practice asceticism-learning to eat lean and on less and be comfortable with not having the same level of cleanliness and upkeep that you were used to at home. You might have to practice abstinence if you traveled without your spouse; you might have to practice resolve if you left your children behind and worried how they’d fare in your absence– would they be safe, clothed, and warm?

In essence, the travel one underwent to gain knowledge was a classroom for imparting the etiquettes, character, and states of heart that all amounted to humility and resolve: indispensable attributes of students. However, as centers of knowledge became widespread and learning cemented itself in many localities, the need for travel decreased taking with it the lessons it imparted. Students still traveled; indeed, Ibn Rajab was one of them, but the numerous local opportunities became a counterbalance. One might travel, not out of need, but rather desire to explore the flavors of knowledge in exotic lands.

For Ibn Rajab, the merits of travel should be liberated from the physical act of taking a journey. Travel involves movement, engaging the limbs to go from stillness to engagement. The metaphor of travel is that we admonish stagnancy and complacency in favor of growth. Therefore, the value of travel is not simply in the biology of movement or the exertion of the trip but rather the spiritual force that drives one to uproot themselves from a place of ignorance, complacency, and ineffectualness into a position of receptivity through a process which involves discomfort. The spiritual work and character building embedded in travel must occur for the seeker of knowledge. Closed minds and hearts must be opened. In his book, Ibn Rajab consistently marries the world of the outward pursuit of knowledge with the inner world of what it means to have a heart capable of receiving true understanding.

Ibn Rajab mentions Prophet Musa, upon him be peace, as the paradigmatic seeker. He writes: “If there ever existed a person who had no need to travel to seek knowledge, it was Musa, for Allah had spoken to him and given him the Torah in which all divine principles had been revealed. Still, when Allah informed him of a man (named Khidr) who had been favored with knowledge, Musa inquired about meeting him, and then set out with his young companion…” Musa is a prophet and he has so much to give. However, he is also willing to learn. Not just learn, but understand. The fact that he knows so much does not diminish his tenacity and curiosity to know more. He submits himself to Khidr because he is attached to understanding the reality of things. Khidr represents knowledge that is well-understood, imbibed, and embodied. His very nature is the rejection of superficiality. And Musa follows him on this journey- an outward journey for inner knowledge.

Isn’t it wonderful that in Ibn Rajab’s conceptualization of the true inheritor of the prophets, he inadvertently leaves something for all of us? The kind of inheritance that Imam Ibn Rajab lays out is at offer to everyone in small ways. Everyone can learn something from the deen, understand it, and apply it to their lives. The type of person who attains the level of book knowledge of Imam Ibn Rajab is rare. Rarer still, is the person who has combined that high level of book knowledge with the commensurate inner sanctity. But every one of us can–as Prophet Muhammad, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, instructed–convey something from him, even if just one aya. Each one of us can learn a concept from the deen and apply it wholeheartedly. Perhaps you know someone who is a walking billboard of gratitude, patience, gentleness or prayerfulness. May Allah make us people who walk in faith.