Source:

Joseph Lowry, Shawkat Toorawa, eds. Arabic Humanities, Islamic Thought: Essays in
Honor of Everett K. Rowson (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 1-21.

From Breath to Soul:

The Quranic Word Rūḥ and Its (Mis)interpretations

A certain theologian (baꜤḍ al-mutakallimīn) was asked in my presence about the

meanings of the words nafs and rūḥ to which he gave the answers: nafas (breath)
and rīḥ (wind), respectively. “Based on what you say,” the theologian’s
interlocutor commented, “every time a person breathes (tanaffasa) his soul (nafs)
exits his body, and every time he breaks wind (ḍaraṭa) his spirit (rūḥ) does the
same.”1

This anecdote, told by the prominent author Abū Ḥayyān al-Tawḥīdī (d. 400/1010), is
probably meant to illustrate the absurdity of this mutakallim’s claims, but like many
others, it also points to an underlying controversy. In this case, the controversy revolves
around the terms rūḥ and nafs, particularly whether they refer to the perceived entity that
supposedly animates the human body. The understanding of rūḥ and nafs as “soul” has
long been established in Islamic thought and is generally believed to stem from, or at
least to be consistent with, the Quran. Yet the anecdote shows also that even as late as the
fourth /tenth century these assumptions were questioned by some, and for that matter, by
a mutakallim, not an aḥmaq (fool) or an otherwise unserious contender. In this essay, I
wish to explore part of this controversy by studying the word rūḥ in the Quran and related
texts not only with the aim of understanding its meanings, but also of understanding the
intellectual context in which it has been debated. A closer look at the Quran reveals that it
does not use the words rūḥ and nafs interchangeably to suggest any synonym, and that,
indeed, rūḥ “never occurs in the Qur’an with the meaning of ‘soul.’” as Duncan

1
Al-Tawḥīdī, al-Baṣāʾir wa-l-dhakhāʾir i, 123.

1
Macdonald points out.2 More importantly, a diachronic study of commentaries on this
word reveals a trend of growing anthropocentrism in Islamic thought that is worth
exploring. To provide some context for this discussion, I will first give a brief overview
of the development of the notion of soul among some schools of Islamic thought. Second,
I will examine the treatment of the r.w.ḥ root, from which the word rūḥ is derived, in the
Arabic dictionary Lisān al-ꜤArab. Third, I will discuss the word rūḥ in the Quran. Finally,
I will survey Quran commentaries from different historical periods to highlight the
diachronic progression and the anthropocentric overtones in the treatment of this notion.

Conceptions of Human Nature in Early Islamic Tradition

Several modern scholars have noted that the body-and-soul conception of the human
being emerged somewhat late in Islamic thought, around the second century of Islam.3
Prior to this, as IsmaꜤil Fārūqī explains, Muslims were not yet exposed to the array of
ideas that both triggered and shaped discourses about human nature and related
philosophical matters.4 This is not to suggest that to pre-Islamic Arabians and early
Muslims the human being was no more than the sum of her physical self; but earlier
conceptions of the non-physical dimension of the human being in the Arabian context
were rather unsophisticated.5 When Muslims started pondering the incorporeal nature of
humans during Islam’s formative centuries, the body-and-soul dualism was not the only
model they adopted. Early AshꜤarīs and many MuꜤtazilīs conceived of the human being
primarily in terms of atoms and accidents. Humans, similar to other created beings, were
believed to consist of collections of atoms that served as seats for a multitude of
accidents. Attributes such as life, perception, and knowledge, which later became the
domain of the soul, were conceived of as accidents that were directly placed in or
attached to the atoms of the body.6 Death did not always involve a spirit or a soul that

2
Macdonald, Development of the idea of spirit 26.
3
See, for example, Homerin, Soul. in EQ v, 80.
4
Fārūqī, Self in MuꜤtazilah thought 367.
5
Pre-Islamic society seems to have held the view that when someone is killed, a bird which they called
ṣadā or hāma comes out of that person’s head and hovers over the grave, remaining there until the person is
avenged, See Ibn Qutayba, al-MaꜤānī l-kabīr ii, 951.
6
Shihadeh, AshꜤarī anthropology 465.

2
survived the deceased, but could simply mean that a person ceased to exist,7 or that the
accident of death replaced the accident of life.8 Therefore, the soul metaphor was not a
prerequisite even for a more sophisticated understanding of human nature.

Notwithstanding this, many Muslims still accepted the notion of a soul. Ayman Shihadeh
attributes this to the necessity of accounting for scriptural themes, maintaining that since
“the Qurʾān and Ḥadīth contain frequent and often vivid depictions of the rūḥ and nafs of
individual beings.”9 It was therefore the need “to account for these scriptural depictions,
rather than to explain any properties of man that remained unaccounted for by the
standard means of accidents” that Muslim theologians accepted the notion of the soul,
Shihadeh argues.10 The supposed specifically quranic depiction of rūḥ, however,
becomes less vivid as one studies the relevant passages closely. Indeed, as Shihadeh
seems to imply in a footnote, early Muslim theologians’ understanding of the quranic
word rūḥ as “soul” rested on two flawed premises. First, they assumed that rūḥ and nafs
were homonyms (ism mushtarak); second, they discounted or deemphasized several
senses in which the word rūḥ occurs in the Quran.

Rūḥ in Arabic Lexicons

Toshihiko Izutsu observes that Arabic dictionaries and Quran commentaries are valuable
sources for the study of the Quran, but they can, nonetheless, “prove more misleading
than enlightening, unless we are very cautious in availing ourselves of the evidence they
afford.”11 The earliest dictionaries were composed in the second century of Islam, when
the notion of the soul was already becoming prevalent. It is therefore hardly surprising
that the primary definition of the word rūḥ, including in the Kitāb al-ꜤAyn attributed to al-
Khalīl ibn Aḥmad (d. 170 or 175/786 or 791), is generally “the soul by which the body
lives (al-nafs allatī yaḥyā bihā l-badan).”12

7
Vasalou, Subject and body 292.
8
Shihadeh, AshꜤarī anthropology 447.
9
Shihadeh, AshꜤarī anthropology 465·
10
Shihadeh, AshꜤarī anthropology 465·
11
lzutsu, Ethico-religious concepts 15.
12
Al-Khahīl ibn Aḥmad, Kitāb al-ꜤAyn, s.v. r.w.ḥ. On the authorship of the Kitāb al-ꜤAyn, see Talmon,
Kitāb al-ꜤAyn.

3
The author of the Kitāb al-ꜤAyn, however, much like later lexicographers, fails to cite
any similar usage of the word rūḥ from pre- or early Islamic poetry to corroborate this
definition. This is not a minor point. Arabic lexicographers and grammarians depended
heavily on pre- and early Islamic language to determine the “correct” (i.e. early)
meanings of Arabic words and structures. Their scholarly endeavors were primarily
motivated by the wish to record the Arabic language that was in use around the time and
place of revelation to make sure that later generations continued adequately to understand
the Islamic scripture. These linguists were aware that the rapid social, linguistic, and
intellectual changes taking place at the time could affect people’s understanding of the
Quran, and their strategy in addressing this challenge depended heavily on the citation of
early material. The failure to provide early illustrative examples in support of the rūḥ-
qua-soul interpretation thus warrants skepticism.

Considering that the soul connotation crept into the meaning of the word rūḥ around the
same time or even before the field of Arabic lexicography emerged, a diachronic study of
this word in Arabic dictionaries would not be the most fruitful course. Arabic lexicons
occasionally reflect uncertainty regarding the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation, but this
reflection does not lead to a systematic investigation.13 Thus, instead of a diachronic
study, I propose a close reading of the relevant material in Ibn Manẓūr’s (d. 711/1311)
dictionary, Lisān al-ꜤArab. A thorough analysis of the r.w.ḥ entry in this dictionary, as in
many others, reveals important misconstructions and interpretative leaps which should
caution us against accepting all propositions at face value.14

The semantic field of the r.w.ḥ/r.y.ḥ roots in Lisān al-ꜤArab revolves primarily around the
idea of “moving air.” The word rīḥ means wind, yawm rāḥ means a windy day, marwaḥa
means desert (mafāza), thus called because it is a place traversed by wind (al-mawḍiꜤ
alladhī takhtariquhu l-rīḥ), and mirwaḥa is a fan. Another air-related connotation is
“smell,” something that is carried to the olfactory bulbs through the air. Arwaḥa l-laḥm is
thus said of spoiled meat when it emits a foul odor and the verb istarwaḥa means “to

13
See for example, Ibn Durayd, Jamharat al-lugha i, 526. Ibn Durayd (d. 321/933) writes, “The ‘rūḥ’ of the
human being is his soul (nafsuhu) by which his body lives, though some say that ‘rūḥ’ is different from
‘nafs.’”
14
Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ꜤArab ii, 455- 68.

4
smell s.th.” (al-tashammum). In addition, this root has connotations of pleasantness,
happiness, comfort, rest, vastness, and generosity, which seem to be linked to the good
sensation resulting from breezes. Therefore, the adjective aryaḥ describes any spacious
thing (al-wāsiꜤ min kulli shayʾ) whereas aryaḥī describes a big-hearted person who is
inclined toward good deeds (wāsiꜤ al-khuluq, al-munbasiṭ ilā l-maꜤrūf).

Moving to the notion of rūḥ, Ibn Manẓūr draws on kalām al-Ꜥarab (Arabs’ speech), the
Quran and the Ḥadīth, and the views of several linguists and grammarians to elucidate its
meanings. From early Arabic sources he cites a verse belonging to the Umayyad poet
Dhū l-Rumma (d. 117/735) in which this poet addresses a companion, telling him to
kindle fire with his rūḥ. This, according to Ibn Manẓūr’s explanation, means “enliven the
fire with your blown breath (aḥyihā bi-nafkhik).” This lexicographer reports a similar
usage from Abū l-Duqaysh al-AꜤrābī, a major informant on the Arabic language who,
according to the biographer al-Ṣafadī (d. 764/1363), counted among his students the
linguists Abū Ubayda (d. 209/824), al-AṣmaꜤī (d. 216 /831), and al-Khalīl ibn Aḥmad.
Abū l-Duqaysh is reported to have said: “one of us filled a water skin from his rūḥ
(Ꜥamada minnā rajulun ilā qirbatin fa-malaʾahā min rūḥihi).”15 Ibn Manẓūr explains that
rūḥ here means “wind and breath (rīḥ wa-nafas).” In both examples, therefore, this word
means “blown breath,” which, consistent with other derivations of the root, is a type of
moving air.

Ibn Manẓūr provides an additional set of meanings derived from the Quran and the
Ḥadīth. In this set, rūḥ is defined as “revelation” (al-waḥy), the “command of
prophethood” (amr al-nubuwwa), “mercy” (al-raḥma), God’s “rule and command”
(ḥukmuhu wa-amruhu), the archangel Gabriel and other metaphysical beings, and “soul”
(al-nafs). In noting the rich semantic horizon of the quranic word rūḥ, Ibn Manẓūr
stresses that the word occurs mostly (al-ghālib) with the meaning of “soul.” Interestingly,
this assumption leads him to reinterpret the word in Dhū l-Rumma’s verse to suggest that
it is used figuratively. Blown breath (al-nafkh) can be called rūḥ, he explains, because it
is “wind that comes out of the soul (li-annahu rīḥ yakhruju min al-rūḥ).”

15
Al-Ṣafadī, aI-Wāfī bi-l-wafāyāt xiv, 16.

5
Two features of Ibn Manẓūr’s treatment of this word are noteworthy. First, the meanings
he includes in this list do not seem particularly related to the r.w.ḥ root. It is possible to
sense the positive connotation that is often associated with this root in words such as
“mercy” and, through a somewhat stretched analogy, “revelation” (revelation is often
equated with guidance and mercy), but it is not clear how individuals such as the
archangel Gabriel would fit here. More importantly, the “blown air” connotation can
hardly be detected from this list. The point of this comment, however, is not to question
Ibn Manẓūr’s entire list (indeed, most of the meanings he suggests seem to be supported
by quranic context), but rather to point out that in treatments of the word rūḥ, there is
often little effort to examine the ways in which this quranic word fits in its general
semantic field as detected from its root and from extra-quranic uses in pre- or early-
Islamic Arabic. This point is relevant to my general argument, and I will return to it
below.

The second noteworthy feature is the way Ibn Manẓūr accounts for the rūḥ-qua-soul
meaning. Strangely, in support of this interpretation he adduces verse 85 of Sūrat al-Isrāʾ
(17:85), “They ask you [Muḥammad] about the rūḥ, say, ‘the rūḥ is of God’s affair/from
God’s command (qul al-rūḥu min amri rabbī).’” To provide additional corroboration for
this interpretation, Ibn Manẓūr quotes al-Farrāʾ (d. 207 /822), who affirms that “rūḥ is the
(substance) by which the human being lives,” adding that “God has not taught any of His
subjects what this substance is.” Ibn Manẓūr also cites Abū Bakr ibn al-Anbārī (d.
328/940) and al-Naḍr ibn Shumayl (d. 203/819), who subscribe to the same
interpretation.

These interpretations are problematic on several fronts. First, the rūḥ-qua-soul meaning
does not sit well with other derivatives of the r.w.ḥ root. This root, as noted earlier,
revolves mainly around the idea of moving air and the related sense of pleasantness. In
fact, in view of this root’s semantic field, rūḥ-qua-blown-breath in Dhū l-Rumma’s verse
appears more appropriate than the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation proposed by Ibn Manẓūr.
Second, the soul connotation, anomalously, appears only with the noun rūḥ and its nisba-
adjective, rūḥānī. If the soul connotation were indeed an essential semantic component of
this root, one would have expected it to emerge in more than two words, as is the case

6
with other derivatives. Third, Ibn Manẓūr’s supporting evidence of the rūḥ-qua-soul
interpretation consists mainly of commentaries on the Quran drawn from the works of
grammarians and lexicographers who lived from the second half of the second century of
Islam onwards. One of the first among these, al-Farrāʾ, was already well versed in
MuꜤtazilī thought and the discipline of falsafa with its sub-fields of astrology and
medicine.16 Considering that there is hardly any trace of the rūḥ-qua-soul connotation in
early Arabic sources, it is justified to argue that al-Farrāʾ internalized this conception
from his study of these disciplines.

The dichotomy between the quranic and extra-quranic meanings of the word rūḥ, to
which I referred earlier, is not unique to Ibn Manẓūr. The same position is reflected in the
works of other lexicographers, and more recently in a view expressed by Michael Sells,
who affirms that in pre-Islamic poetry this word refers to a blowing or breathing whereas
in the Quran it appears “in the sense of spirit rather than of blowing.”17 Situating this
change in meaning with the Quran, however, is problematic. It is not implausible, of
course, to suggest that the Quran would add new nuances to a word or disregard some of
its common connotations. Since this scripture introduces many new ideas and often
discusses aspects of the metaphysical realm which the Arabic language may not be
equipped to convey, it is not surprising that the Quran would coin new words or imbue
existing ones with new connotations. However, to disregard the main or sole meaning of
a word that is already in use and replace it with a new meaning seems inexplicable.
Indeed, it seems like an unjustifiable linguistic statement, as if this scripture is telling
Arabs what the meaning of a given word should be rather than using it in ways that
would make sense to them and which would enable them to understand the larger
message of which it is a part. The unlikelihood of this prescriptive approach to language
warrants skepticism. This, again, is not to deny that the quranic word rūḥ is far more
complex than mere blowing of breath as experienced by humans, but it is to argue that
the quranic and extra-quranic rūḥ in early sources must have at least something in
common.

16
Ḍayf, al-Madāris al-lughawiyya 192.
17
Sells, Spirit, in EQ v, 114.

7
Rūḥ in the Quran

Out of its twenty-one occurrences, the quranic word rūḥ appears five times with the verb
nafakha (to blow), which indicates that, at least, it has something to do with “blowing.”
Furthermore, its mention is associated with peace (Q Qadr 97:4), assistance (Q Mujādila
58:22; Q Baqara 2:87), and life (Q Ḥijr 15:29). The positive connotation that is part of the
root’s semantic field is thus present in the Quran. Additionally, whether in the Quran or
in the two early examples cited by Ibn Manẓūr, the blowing associated with rūḥ generates
an impact: outside the Quran it enlivens fire and inflates a water skin, in the Quran it
seems to infuse inanimate matter with life and to perform other tasks.

The level at which the quranic rūḥ performs these tasks, however, is by no means
comparable to anything known to Arabs or, for that matter, any humans. It crosses
inconceivably long distances and time spans (it ascends to the heavens in a day that is
fifty thousand years long) and animates inanimate matter. The complex and elusive
manifestations of the quranic rūḥ pose another challenge. In some contexts, rūḥ is
depicted as a person who stands in obedience to God, brings down what appears to be
revelation, and assists believers; in others it appears as a general concept, in particular as
revelation that God inspires to Muḥammad. As a person, rūḥ takes several forms. More
often it refers to a metaphysical being akin to an angel, but it can take human shape, as is
the case with the anthropomorphized rūḥ who interacts with Mary. In one instance the
Quran even describes Jesus as rūḥ. The Quran also refers to rūḥ in several ways: rūḥ al-
qudus, al-rūḥ al-amīn, al-rūḥ, and My/His (God’s) rūḥ. It is unclear whether these are
references to the same or different individuals/concepts. In short, an Arab who
understands the word rūḥ merely as “blown breath” would find the quranic rūḥ utterly
mysterious. This is part of the reason why Muḥammad’s audience asked him about the
meaning of rūḥ, as reported in Sūrat al-Isrāʾ.18

The answer “qul al-rūḥu min amri rabbī” (Say, ‘the rūḥ belongs to God’s affair/is from
God’s command’) has often been interpreted as meaning, “do not meddle with rūḥ.” This

18
Muḥammad’s audience could also have been baffled by the fact that the Quran’s use of
the word rūḥ was similar to its use by some Jews and Christians.

8
is a plausible interpretation, since one of the possible meanings of the word amr is
“affair.”19 The meaning of this verse could thus be: “Say, the rūḥ is of God’s affair,”
implying, “do not ask!” Another meaning of the word “amr,” however, is “command” /
“order.” If this is the implied meaning, then this statement could be more informative
than it is generally assumed. If Muḥammad’s inquirers were perplexed by the fact that a
mere breath could generate life, acquire human shape, and perform the various deeds
ascribed to it, this answer may have been a type of reassurance: The quranic rūḥ is
capable of performing such extraordinary acts because it is of God’s, not anyone else’s,
command. God, being omnipotent, can cause a mere breath to perform such acts. This
interpretation seems to correspond to the opinion of the early exegete al-Ḍaḥḥāk (d.
105/723), who interprets the word rūḥ as “omnipotence,” as we will see.

It should also be noted that the fact that the ascription of agency and attributes to a
seemingly inanimate entity is not restricted to rūḥ in the Quran. Another seemingly
inanimate being, Moses’ staff, turns into a snake and devours all the snake-like ropes of
Pharaoh’s magicians. The Quran’s seemingly inanimate entities do not even need to be
transformed into something different to acquire agency and personhood. The earth and
heavens are depicted as persons when they are ordered to “come willingly or
unwillingly” to which they reply “we come in submission” (Q Fuṣṣilat 41:11). The
quranic idea of personhood may thus be far more encompassing than the human
understanding of this notion. Thus, even if the attributes and capabilities of the quranic
rūḥ are by far superior to blown breath as experienced by humans, its depiction fits in the
quranic cosmology and is consistent with quranic depictions of other seemingly mundane
beings that acquire supernatural capabilities or which possess attributes that humans are
incapable of perceiving or experiencing.

Another possible meaning of the sentence “Say, ‘the rūḥ belongs to God’s command’”
could be that God should not be imagined in anthropomorphic terms. Whereas humans
blow air by exhaling it from their lungs, God blows breath by command. This answer is
still too elusive to be informative, but this is perhaps to be expected, since the context is

19
For a detailed discussion of the word ‘amr’ in the Quran, see, Baljon, The ‘amr of God.’

9
too metaphysical for humans to be able to imagine it. By adding that “of knowledge you
have been given but a little” the Quran perhaps seeks to highlight that human beings do
not possess the necessary knowledge, tools, or experience that would enable them to
imagine the quranic rūḥ in clearer terms. Nonetheless, use of the word rūḥ in this passage
perhaps justifies the assumption that the metaphysical rūḥ shares at least some traits with
the worldly one.

Rūḥ in Quranic Exegesis

The genre of quranic exegesis (tafsīr) is more suited than the genre of Arabic
lexicography for a diachronic study of the word rūḥ, mainly because of its wider
analytical lens. The challenge in this case results from the scarcity of documentary
sources from the first two centuries of Islam, but a way around this difficulty is not
unworkable. As Wadad al-Qadi has shown, accessing early exegetical material is still
possible mainly thanks to the documentary efforts of al-Ṭabarī (d. 310 /923). “Modern
research,” al-Qadi points out, “has shown that Ṭabarī was both copious and exact in
reproducing the sayings of the early commentators he chose to cite.”20 Although in his
treatment of rūḥ al-Ṭabarī turns out to be less “copious” than one would have wished, it
is still clear that he does not forge opinions to fit particular agendas, and even his silences
can be informative. When approached critically, therefore, al-Ṭabarī’s material can
provide a valuable window into the genre’s early stage. In addition to al-Ṭabarī’s early
authorities, I will discuss the views of al-Ṭabarī himself, al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273), and
the modern Tunisian exegete al-Ṭāhir ibn ꜤĀshūr (d. 1393/1973).

Rūḥ in Early Tafsīr

Al-Ṭabarī’s early authorities understand the quranic rūḥ primarily as a reference to the
archangel Gabriel; almost any time the context does not explicitly preclude this
interpretation, at least one of them proposes this interpretation. Overwhelmingly, this
angel is identified with rūḥ al-qudus (Q Baqara 2:87 and 253, Q Māʾida 5:110, Q Naḥl
16:2), al-rūḥ al-amīn (Q ShuꜤarāʾ 26:193), the anthropomorphized rūḥ who visits Mary

20
AI-Qadi, The Term ‘Khalīfa’ 395.

10
(Q Maryam 19:17) and through whom the inbreathing of Jesus takes place (Q Taḥrīm
66:12), the rūḥ who stands up with angels in a metaphysical setting (Q Nabaʾ 78:38), the
rūḥ who ascends to the heavens (Q MaꜤārij 70:4), and the rūḥ who descends to earth on
the Night of Power (Laylat al-Qadr, Q Qadr 97:4). Rūḥ is interpreted as Gabriel even
when the context does not seem to support this interpretation, as when the Quran says,
“The Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, is God’s messenger, His Word, which He sent to Mary,
and a Rūḥ from Him” (Q Nisāʾ 4:171). Although it seems clear that rūḥ in this verse
describes Jesus, some argue that it refers to Gabriel, albeit via a tortuous interpretative
process.21 Insistence on identifying rūḥ with Gabriel even when such interpretation is
implausible suggests that to some early exegetes the primary signification of the quranic
word rūḥ was indeed Gabriel.

The “Gabriel” interpretation is sometimes accompanied by other alternatives. For

example, Ibn Zayd (d. 153/770) interprets rūḥ al-qudus as the Gospel,22 whereas Ibn
ꜤAbbās (d. 68/687) interprets it as the “word with which Jesus used to revive the dead.”23
In many others, however, rūḥ is understood exclusively as Gabriel. No alternative
interpretations are offered for example of the rūḥ who interacts with Mary, al-rūḥ al-
amīn, the rūḥ who ascends to the heavens, or the rūḥ who visits earth on the Night of
Power.

The contexts that seem to preclude the Gabriel interpretation are those in which the
Quran treats rūḥ as an abstract notion, as when it says, “Thus, we revealed to you a rūḥ of
Our command” (Q Shūrā 42:52). In this case, the word rūḥ receives diverse, though
interrelated, interpretations. Ibn ꜤAbbās interprets it as “revelation,”24 Qatāda (d.
118/737) proposes both “revelation” and “mercy,”25 al-Suddī (d.128 /745) also chooses
“revelation”26 but adds “prophethood,”27 and al-Ḍaḥḥāk and Ibn Zayd “opt for

21
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān ix, 422.
22
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān ii, 321.
23
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān ii, 321.
24
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xvii, 263.
25
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xvii, 265.
26
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxiii, 600.
27
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxiii, 328.

11
“Scripture” and the “Quran.”28 In all these interpretations, therefore, rūḥ is consistently
associated with revelation.

One particularly noteworthy interpretation is proposed by al-RabīꜤ ibn Anas (d. 137 or
139/754 or 756) who says, “Every word our Lord utters is a rūḥ from Him (kullu kalimin
takallama bihi rabbunā fa-huwa rūḥun minhu).”29 Besides identifying rūḥ with
revelation, this interpretation seems also an attempt to rationalize the quranic rūḥ in
human terms. Since in human experience the utterance of words involves the exhalation
of air, conceptualizing the quranic rūḥ in terms of divine speech seems to be a reasonable
solution. This is not to suggest that the quranic context endorses this interpretation or
establishes a clear link between the concepts of “word” and rūḥ, but rather to point out
how the prior understanding of rūḥ as “blown breath” seems to have informed al-RabīꜤ’s
interpretation.

The word rūḥ occurs with the verb nafakha (to blow) in five verses: twice when the
Quran refers to Mary’s virginal conception of Jesus (Q Maryam 19:17, Q Taḥrīm 66:12)
and three times when God breathes from His rūḥ into the pre-human clay (Q Ḥijr 15:29,
Q Sajda 32:9, Q Ṣād 38:72). Early commentaries on the word rūḥ in these verses are
surprisingly scanty. With regard to the Mary-related verses, al-Ṭabarī simply asserts that
ahl al-taʾwīl (exegetes) identify rūḥ here as Gabriel;30 in the remaining verses, he reports
a single comment consisting of one word. He says that al-Ḍaḥḥāk defined rūḥ here as
qudra (omnipotence).31

This quasi-complete silence is surprising. If any context in the Quran could potentially
justify the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation, this would be the one, yet, none of al-Ṭabarī’s
authorities propose this interpretation here and, even more strangely, al-Ṭabarī himself is
suspiciously silent. Rather than explaining the nature of the rūḥ from /of which God
blows in the pre-human clay (whether it is soul, breath, or something else),32al-Ṭabarī

28
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxiii, 328.
29
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xvii, 265.
30
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvi, 150.
31
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxiii, 161.
32
The Quran’s phrasing is ‘nafakhtu fīhi min rūḥī.’ The particle ‘min’ means both ‘from’
and ‘of.’

12
merely points out that through this blowing, Adam “became a living human being (fa-
ṣāra basharan ḥayyan),”33 and “a living, speaking creature/a living rational creature (fa-
ṣāra ḥayyan nāṭiqan).”34 This is one of the rare times al-Ṭabarī glosses over the meaning
of rūḥ in such a manner. In other instances, if he desists from elaborating on something it
is to avoid repetition, as he would have addressed the same point elsewhere. It is
therefore clear that al-Ṭabarī is deliberately choosing not to comment on the word rūḥ
here, which raises the question: why? It should be noted also that the rūḥ-qua-soul
definition is reflected elsewhere in early quranic exegesis, as I elaborate later. This raises
another question. If some early exegetes did understand rūḥ as soul, how come this
understanding is not reflected where it would fit best?

The rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation appears three times in early tafsīr. First, in reference to
the primordial covenant of the “Day of Alastu” (Q AꜤrāf 7: 172),35 a report attributed to
the Prophet’s companion Ubayy ibn KaꜤb (d. 21 or 30/642 or 650) states,

God took the seeds of the children of Adam, turned them into souls, fashioned
them, then exacted from them the covenant. The soul of Jesus was one such soul.
This is the soul that God sent to Mary. It talked to her then entered her (womb),
thus her pregnancy.36

The attribution of this report to Ubayy, a companion renowned for his good grasp of the
Quran,37 seems to lend it credibility, but close scrutiny shows that this attribution is
questionable. First, it seems odd that the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation fails to appear in the
contexts where it would fit best, and yet it appears here. The theological content of the
verse where this interpretation appears (Q Nisāʾ 4:171), which challenges the Christian
principles of the trinity and Jesus’s divinity, may well have something to do with this
appearance. The proposition that a theological concern looms over commentaries on this

33
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xvii, 161.
34
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxi, 685.
35
‘And when your Lord took from the children of Adam, from their loins, their descendants,
and made them testify, “Am I not [a-lastu] your Lord?” They testified, “Indeed! We testify
that you are.’” (Q AꜤrāf 7:171). On the ‘Day of Alastu,’ see, for example, Schimmel, Mystical
Dimensions 24.
36
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān ix, 421-422.
37
About Ubayy, see for example al-Dhahabī, Siyar aꜤlām al-nubalāʾ i, 389- 402.

13
verse gains support from the fact that the rūḥ-qua-breath interpretation also appears only
here. This suggests that someone felt the need to invoke extra quranic material to bolster
the interpretation of the word rūḥ, a need that is not detected elsewhere. The fact that the
Gabriel interpretation is also proposed here in spite of its implausibility further
substantiates this proposition. It suggests that interpreters here are not listening closely to
the context, but rather thinking of the possible theological implications of calling Jesus a
rūḥ. One should also remember that this understanding of rūḥ is anomalously expressed
by Ubayy ibn KaꜤb. If Ubayy truly conceived of rūḥ as soul, this conception would have
been common at his time, and it would have appeared more frequently than it actually
does. These factors militate against taking this report at face value.

The second and third occurrences of the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation occur in

commentaries on the metaphysical scene where “the rūḥ and the angels stand in rows” (Q
Nabaʾ 78:38) and the verse “They ask you about rūḥ” (Q Isrāʾ 17:85). On both occasions
this interpretation is attributed to Ibn ꜤAbbās, the renowned “father” of quranic exegesis.
But in addition to this position, two more are attributed to ibn ꜤAbbās in commentaries on
the same verses: rūḥ-qua-angel and abstention from interpreting rūḥ (hādhā mimmā kāna
yaktumuhu Ibn ꜤAbbās).38 It is implausible that Ibn ꜤAbbās both provided definitions for
and concealed the meaning of rūḥ. The mutually exclusive nature of these positions is
sufficient to invite caution.

It is also important to note the differences between the positions reflected in

commentaries on Q Nisāʾ 4:171, where Jesus is described as rūḥ, and the position
reflected in commentaries on Q Isrāʾ 17:85 and Q Nabaʾ 78:38, where conflicting views
are attributed to ibn ꜤAbbās. In the latter case, the rūḥ-qua-breath interpretation does not
feature, the rūḥ-qua-angel is heavily emphasized, and a third position--abstention from
interpreting rūḥ--emerges. This is not to suggest any particular diachronic progression, as
it is not clear which commentaries precede the others, but these differences are important
to note even if they cannot be situated in time.

38
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvii, 50.

14
Understanding Rūḥ in al-Ṭabarī’s Tafsīr

Al-Ṭabarī clearly understands the word rūḥ primarily as soul. Analysis of his
commentary on a verse that deals with the ideas of life and death without bringing up the
word rūḥ can illustrate this point. One such verse is “How can you disbelieve in God,
knowing that you were dead, then He brought you to life, then He will cause you to die
then He will bring you to life” (Q Baqara 2:28)? As usual, al-Ṭabarī first cites early
commentaries then follows up with his own views. A look at his early sources shows that
none of his early authorities uses the soul image to account for the stages of life and death
mentioned in this verse. For them, the first death is when humans were nothing (lam
takūnū shayʾan), dust (turāb), or when they were in their fathers’ loins (aṣlāb ābāʾihim).
The first life is when God creates them or when they are born in this life. The two next
stages are regular death followed by resurrection. These authorities use verbs such as
amāta (to cause to die), aḥyā (to revive), khalaqa (to create), and rajaꜤa ilā l-ḥayāt (to
return to life) to express these ideas.39

In his attempt to elucidate these ideas, al-Ṭabarī rewrites these interpretations by inserting
the soul image in them. The description of the first death as “existence in the loins of
one’s father,” he explains, refers to the stage when humans existed only as sperm, before
ensoulment (Ꜥanā bi-dhālika annahum kānū nuṭafan lā arwāḥa fīhā).40 The first life is
when God blows the souls into human bodies, the second death is when God seizes the
souls, and the final life is when God re-blows the souls into bodies on the day of
resurrection.

This “rewriting” of early interpretations shows that soul-body dualism has become an
integral part of not only al-Ṭabarī’s thinking, but also of the thinking of his audience, for
whom he feels the need to “translate” older notions using the new soul image. Yet, when
al-Ṭabarī comments on the rūḥ verses, he does not define rūḥ as soul even once! The
closest he comes to this interpretation is when he seeks to account for other
interpretations, as when he explains why nafkha (blown breath) can be called rūḥ (he

39
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān i, 418-420.
40
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān i, 422.

15
gives the same explanation offered by Ibn Manẓūr, to the effect that breath comes from
the soul), or when he accepts the ambiguous status of this word. In this case, not only
does he admit that no one other than God knows what rūḥ really is and that there is no
evidence to corroborate any given interpretation, but he also notes that keeping this
matter unresolved is not harmfu1.41

Al-Ṭabarī seems to have at least partial awareness of the tension between his own and the
quranic conceptions of rūḥ. This, probably, is the reason why he abstains from defining
the quranic rūḥ as soul and why he glosses over the three verses discussing the blowing
from /of rūḥ in the pre-human clay. It is also highly unlikely that the host of early
exegetes he consulted had only one word to say about the blowing from/of rūḥ scene
which features three times in the Quran. Al-Ṭabarī probably thought it wise to cite the
only uncontroversial word in this context--qudra (omnipotence)--leaving out options he
deemed to be sensitive, whatever these might have been.

Rūḥ in the Tafsīr of Abū ꜤAbdallāh al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273)

Similar to earlier exegetes, al-Qurṭubī understands the quranic rūḥ mostly as a reference
to Gabriel or other angels, but he departs from them when it comes to the rūḥ from which
God blows in the pre-human clay. In this case, al-Qurṭubī affirms that rūḥ and nafs are
synonyms (al-rūḥ wa-l-nafs ismāni li-musamman wāḥid), that rūḥ is a subtle body (jism
laṭīf), and that “God habitually creates life in the (physical) body by joining it to this
(subtle) body.”42 The views that seem to be hovering over al-Ṭabarī’s treatment of the
quranic rūḥ without being expressed are spelled out here. Al-Ṭabarī, it should be
remembered, did understand the word rūḥ as soul, but refrained from applying this
understanding to the quranic rūḥ, leading him at times to opt for silence. This silence is
broken by al-Qurṭubī.

Al-Qurṭubī reads the quranic sentence nafakha fīhi min rūḥihi (He/God blew in
him/Adam from /of His ruḥ” as “He/God instilled the soul in him/Adam” (rakkaba fīhi l-
rūḥ), but this reading is inconsistent with the quranic phrasing. The Quran does not say

41
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvii, 51.
42
Al-Qurṭubī, al-JāmiꜤ li-aḥkām al-Qurʾān xii, 208.

16
that God “blew His rūḥ in” the pre-human clay, but rather that He “blew from,” or, “blew
of His rūḥ” in this clay. The particle min here can either mean “from,” indicating that the
rūḥ is the origin of blowing, or “some of,” indicating that part of the rūḥ enters the
human body. Either way, the quranic rūḥ in its entirety does not become part of the
human being. The limit of what one can make of this sentence is that a part of this rūḥ
enters the human body. Al-Qurṭubī does not address this point.

Al-Qurṭubī’s main concern, however, is not to argue about the meaning of rūḥ--this
seems unproblematic for him--but rather to assert the non-divinity of rūḥ. Time and again
he reiterates that rūḥ is a creature like any other, and that it should not be conflated with
God. Rūḥ belongs to God in the same sense that any other creature does. One can thus
speak of God’s rūḥ in the same way one speaks of God’s camel or God’s house. The
attribution of these beings to God does not mean that they are identical with Him, and so
is the case with rūḥ. All one can infer from these attributions is the honor that a creature
acquires when it is attributed to God, as is the case when God refers to the KaꜤba as baytī
(My House).43

The point al-Qurṭubī is keen to get across is that it should not be imagined that God has a
soul in the way humans are presumed to have souls. This dualist conception of God is
resisted not only because of its anthropomorphic overtones, but also because it is fraught
with the danger of idolatry. The reference to Jesus as a “rūḥ from God,” al-Qurṭubī
maintains, led Christians astray, as they inferred from it that Jesus was an integral part of
God.44 This theological concern--the fear of conflating rūḥ or Jesus with God--leads al-
Qurṭubī to remind that rūḥ does not only mean “soul,” but also “blown breath,” stressing
that this is how the word was used in early Arabic poetry. The theological concern that
can be detected from al-Ṭabarī’s authorities’ discussion of Jesus as rūḥ becomes explicit
here. In both cases the rūḥ-qua-soul notion seems to have the potential of leading to the
perilous terrain of shirk (idolatry), in which case the mundane, down-to-earth
interpretation of rūḥ as “blown breath” becomes an optimal solution.

43
Al-Qurṭubī, al-JāmiꜤ li-aḥkām al-Qurʾān xii, 208.
44
Al-Qurṭubī, al-JāmiꜤ li-aḥkām al-Qurʾān vii, 231.

17
Al-Qurṭubī’s treatment of verse Q Isrāʾ 17:85 also differs from al-Ṭabarī’s. For the sake
of comparison, the latter’s commentary on this verse should be revisited. Besides the
three positions attributed to Ibn ꜤAbbās (rūḥ-qua-soul, rūḥ-qua-Gabriel, and refrain from
interpreting rūḥ), al-Ṭabarī cites an opinion attributed to the Prophet’s cousin ꜤAlī ibn
Abī Ṭālib (d. 40 /661) describing rūḥ as “an angel who has seventy-thousand faces, every
face containing seventy thousand tongues, and every tongue speaking seventy-thousand
languages. The angel hymns God’s praises in all these languages, and from each hymn
God creates an angel who joins the ranks of other angels until the Day of Resurrection.”45
This metaphysical being is one of several who have enormous proportions and
capabilities. It is also important to point out that one of the rare instances when al-Ṭabarī
shrewdly avoids expressing any personal views on rūḥ is in his discussion of this verse
(Q Isrāʾ 17:85). He uses the pretext that he has already discussed rūḥ elsewhere, ignoring
that the context here differs from any other in the Quran.46

Al-Qurṭubī reproduces many of these interpretations, but with notable changes. First, he
reports that the exegete Ibn ꜤAṭiyya (d. 542/1148) questions the authenticity of the report
attributed to ꜤAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib. This suggests that fantastical conceptions of rūḥ have
now become less palatable. More importantly, he asserts that most exegetes agree that the
Prophet was asked precisely about the rūḥ “by which the body lives.” Al-Qurṭubī adds
that perceptive commentators (ahl al-naẓar) explain that the point of the question is to
find out about “the nature of the rūḥ, its location in the human body, how it mixes with it,
and how life is linked to it.”47 Al-Qurṭubī is still mystified by rūḥ and sides with al-
Ṭabarī’s camp, who choose to refrain from interpreting this word. For him, the quranic
statement “Say, ‘rūḥ is from /of God’s command’” means “do not ask!” But his
mystification is not about the general meaning of rūḥ--that has already been decided as
being “soul”--it is only about the exact particularities in which the soul exists.

Al-Qurṭubī’s discussion marks a new stage in the history of the word rūḥ. In al-Ṭabarī’s
time, even though this word was predominantly understood as soul in extra-quranic

45
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xviii, 70.
46
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xviii, 70.
47
Al-Qurṭubī, al-JāmiꜤ li-aḥkām al-Qurʾān xiii, 167.

18
sources, this understanding is pretty much kept out of the Quran. The soul interpretation
appears only three times in al-Ṭabarī’s early sources’ treatment of the word, each time
under circumstances too suspicious to be taken at face value. Al-Ṭabarī himself uses the
word to express his own understanding of ideas about life and death, but is careful not to
apply this meaning to the quranic rūḥ. At this stage, al-Ṭabarī prioritized the
understanding of rūḥ as metaphysical being, mostly as Gabriel, but often also as a
fantastical being. By al-Qurṭubī’s time, the rūḥ-qua-Gabriel interpretation survives intact,
but other aspects change. The primary meaning of quranic rūḥ is now soul, something
that God instilled in the human body. Moreover, the fantastical rūḥ of early Quranic
exegesis is now questioned.

Rūḥ in the Tafsīr of al-Ṭāhir ibn ꜤĀshūr (d. 1393/1973)

The first time the rūḥ-qua-soul interpretation appears in al-Qurūubī’s treatment of the
quranic rūḥ is when he reaches the fourth sura, in his discussion of Jesus-qua-rūḥ. This is
due to the difficulty of inferring the idea of the soul from the earlier two occurrences, rūḥ
al-qudus (twice) in the second sura and typically identified with the angel Gabriel. The
first time the word appears in the Quran, Ibn ꜤĀshūr defines it as soul. This suggests that
now the word rūḥ triggers primarily the idea of soul regardless of contextual
considerations.

Ibn ꜤĀshūr defines rūḥ as “a luminous subtle substance (jawhar nūrānī laṭīf),
indiscernible to human senses.” The word, in his understanding, applies to three beings:
the human soul, a divine power with wondrous creative ability, and the archangel
Gabriel.48 Ibn ꜤĀshūr’s conception of rūḥ-qua-divine-power is unclear, but irrespective of
what this being or notion is, it is remarkable that his list counts only three items. Notably
absent from his definition are the host of metaphysical beings identified with rūḥ in
earlier interpretations. In al-Ṭabarī’s tafsīr, these include the angel mentioned in the
report attributed to ꜤAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, another angel whose size exceeds that of the
heavens and the mountains,49 creatures who are many times the size of angels,50 and

48
Ibn ꜤĀshūr, al-Taḥrīr, i, 595.
49
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvii, 48.
50
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvii, 50.

19
metaphysical creatures who resemble the children of Adam.51 Of all metaphysical rūḥs,
the only one that makes it onto Ibn ꜤĀshūr’s list is the archangel Gabriel. This is yet
another development in conceptions of the quranic rūḥ. Al-Qurṭubī, or other exegetes
around his time, already seem uneasy with some fantastical descriptions of rūḥ, and Ibn
ꜤĀshūr drops them entirely!

Al-Qurṭubī’s problematic presentation of the quranic rūḥ-qua-soul instilled in the human

being is also smoothed over. Al-Qurṭubī, as noted earlier, maintains that God instilled
(rakkaba) rūḥ in the human body, but this interpretation does not sit well with the quranic
phrasing, which says that God “blew from” or “blew of” His rūḥ in the pre-human clay.
Ibn ꜤĀshūr solves this problem by asserting that the quranic min is tabꜤīḍiyya (i.e., its use
here is partitive). The quranic ambiguity is solved by favoring the meaning that fits the
rūḥ-qua-soul understanding.

But this does not solve all of the problems of the quranic rūḥ or Ibn ꜤĀshūr’s treatment
thereof. When this exegete defines rūḥ as “a divine power with wondrous creative
abilities,” he seems to sense that there is more to rūḥ than he is able to grasp or express.
He is unsure what this ungraspable rūḥ is. At some point he seems to identify it with an
angel, apparently distinct from Gabriel, who blows Jesus’s “soul” into Mary.52
Sometimes he likens it to electric or steam power. Rūḥ continues to be elusive and
ungraspable, in spite of all efforts to pin it down to something conceivable.

Rūḥ and Anthropocentrism

Treatments of the quranic rūḥ follow a clear trend. In its early history, the word received
abundant, sometimes even contradictory, definitions. Such abundance and contradiction
denote the exegetes’ bafflement and uncertainty about this word’s meaning. In most
cases, rūḥ was conceived of as one of various metaphysical beings, the least mysterious
of whom was the archangel Gabriel. This aura of mystery indicates that early exegetes
thought rūḥ could not be grasped in rational terms. Ibn ꜤAṭiyya may or may not be
justified in doubting the attribution to ꜤAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib of the report describing the

51
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān xxvii, 49.
52
Ibn ꜤĀshūr, al-Taḥrīr, xxviii, 378.

20
fantastical creature, but this report reliably conveys early Muslims’ puzzlement with the
notion of quranic rūḥ. Fantastical depictions of this being are an attempt to make sense of
rūḥ while maintaining its aura of mystery.

In the early commentaries, the rūḥ notion was shaped by and contributed to the
formulation of a theocentric worldview. The metaphysical rūḥ served to underscore
God’s majesty both in terms of creativity and omnipotence. The ability to combine
thousands of faces, tongues, and languages in one person and to fashion a living being of
such enormous size show that God’s creativity has no limits. The fact that even a creature
with such proportions is utterly submissive to God illustrates God’s dominance and
omnipotence. The same motifs underscore the limitations and insignificance of humans.
Some of the questions implicit in the depiction of rūḥ in such terms are: what are humans
compared to such a creature, and how dare they disobey God when a being as great as
rūḥ never ceases hymning His praises?

With time, the number of definitions decreased and rūḥ became more conceivable, so
much so that the medieval exegete Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210) almost argued
against the unknowability of rūḥ. In his commentary on the verse “They ask you about
the rūḥ,” he writes,

Even minor philosophers and theologians know about rūḥ. It would have been
demeaning for the Prophet to say he did not grasp this notion. This would have
been demeaning for any person, let alone the Prophet, the most knowledgeable of
all people.53

Al-Rāzī maintains that the Prophet must have given a crystal clear answer to this
question. The only thing he did not elucidate was the essence (māhiyya) of rūḥ, but this is
because the essences of most things are unknown. There is thus no additional mystery
about rūḥ that would set it apart from other beings.

The anthropocentric overtones of the rūḥ-qua-soul notion are multifaceted. First, it shows
that the human mind has now become amply capable of grasping the notion of rūḥ,

53
Al-Rāzī, Mafātīḥ al-ghayb xxi, 38.

21
leaving barely a touch of mystery to account for the Quran’s apparent assertion that rūḥ is
unknowable. Rūḥ has also come down from its heavenly realm to dwell on earth, in the
very bodies of human beings! Besides grasping the idea of rūḥ mentally, humans have
also seized it physically. Moreover, rūḥ almost ceased to be a sign of God’s greatness and
became a sign of the specialness of humans. According to al-Rāzī, “God attributed the
rūḥ of Adam to Himself to honor this creature (tashrīfan lahu wa-takrīman).”54

With Ibn ꜤĀshūr, this anthropocentric trend reaches a new stage. The mystery of rūḥ is
reduced to a mechanical image. For him, the blowing of rūḥ in a body is akin to “the
electrical or steam power that springs from the heart once humors are balanced.” He
affirms that the Quran uses the verb “nafakha” (to blow) metaphorically, to convey the
idea “of placing a fast, powerful force instantaneously (waḍꜤ quwwa latīfat al-sarayān
qawiyyat al-taʾthīr dufꜤatan wāḥida).” In reality, he writes, “there is neither blowing nor
anything blown (laysa thammata nafkh wa-lā manfūkh).”55 This image dispenses with the
external being from /of whom the supposed soul is blown and presents the human being
as almost an independent creature, in need of no external help. Ibn ꜤĀshūr of course
attributes this power to God, but the creative drama is now focused on God and God’s
favorite creature, the human being, to the near exclusion of everyone else!

In earlier centuries rūḥ-qua-soul was common to human beings and other animals. Al-
Ṭabarī, for example, defines the word dābba (animal) as “any being with a soul (ismun li-
kulli dhī rūḥ).56 With Ibn ꜤĀshūr, rūḥ became too good to share with other animals. It
refers only to the human soul, Gabriel, and his ambiguous creative power. The souls of
other animals, he says, are called nafs.

Conclusion

Available evidence shows that around the time of revelation the word rūḥ meant “blown
breath.” The quranic use of this word complicates this understanding, as it ascribes to rūḥ
unusual agency and manifestations, something that must have mystified early Muslims.

54
Al-Rāzī, Mafātīḥ al-ghayb xix, 186.
55
Ibn ꜤĀshūr, al-Taḥrīr, xiv, 44.
56
Al-Ṭabarī, JāmiꜤ al-bayān iii, 275.

22
To reconcile their own understanding with the quranic presentation of rūḥ, the latter seem
to have intuitively had recourse to the principles of God’s creativity and omnipotence.
God could turn a breath into the most sophisticated being. Their construction of the
metaphysical rūḥ, with its enormous dimensions and extraordinary features, is at once an
expression of God’s majesty and of the limitations of humans. To my mind, this way of
accounting for the quranic rūḥ is an indication of the theocentric character of Islamic
thought at the time. It should be noted, however, that this very attempt to pin down the
quranic rūḥ to a particular being already denotes a tendency to reduce the unknowable to
something imaginable, even if not fully graspable. This could have already been a step
toward a more anthropocentric culture.

In subsequent centuries, as the notion of soul started gaining ground in extra-quranic

circles, it gradually started shaping the understanding of the quranic word rūḥ. Strangely,
to corroborate the view that rūḥ in the Quran means soul, the verse that has been adduced
the most is Q Isrāʾ 17:85 (“They ask you about rūḥ ...), the very verse that seems to say
that rūḥ is unknowable to humans. Through the distorted prism of equating a non-quranic
notion with a quranic word, rūḥ gradually ceased to be the elusive being known only to
God, and even became the divine spark that eventually set humans apart from other
animals. It should of course be noted that the process described here is gradual and long.
This precludes the possibility of pinpointing any exact transitional points, or even
identifying a straight linear direction. Nonetheless, a trend is discernible, along with an
important factor that determined its direction: anthropocentric feelings.

The process by which breath became soul, as seen above, turns out not to be so
mysterious. God’s power turned a breath into a supernatural being, but eventually
humans managed to bring this being down to earth through (flawed) interpretative
strategies, and in so doing they appropriated it in ways that served human ends. Humans
did not outwit God, of course; for, even if they felt confident that they knew what the
quranic term rūḥ meant, they also affirmed that they did not really know. Quran
commentators tell us that rūḥ came down to earth with God’s consent, and that He
Himself bestowed it on humans. This essay has shown that the mufassirs’ interpretations
of rūḥ are driven more by anthropocentric factors, like their assumption that God gave

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rūḥ to the creatures whom He most favored, rather than by their ability to unlock the true
meaning of an inscrutable quranic term.

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