Disclaimer: I am not a religious scholar or tafsir expert, and this is a basic reflection from a trying believer. The ideas I discuss here are purely born of my curiosity and are not intended to be presented or perceived as an authoritative interpretation. God forgive me if I displease Him in any way, and may He accept from us our sincere seeking.
The Holy Quran, our blessed gift, drips with majesty and evokes awe in every syllable. The undying beauty of it lies in the truth that it was sent as a mercy and a guide to humanity, as a comfort and a compass. We are called to read it not only to know our faith and Creator, but to discover ourselves and better understand both the visible and the veiled. We are invited, ever so gently, into the Light.
Every verse is a universe of its own and a testament to the glory and mercy of the Creator. Each, thus, is worthy of and has warranted devoted and individual scholarly exploration, as has been done so through tafsir for the last 14 centuries.
Awe envelops me anew whenever I turn to this sacred Book, but there are some verses I often find myself consistently amazed by. That is not to say the entire Word isn’t a perpetually unfolding miracle, but there are some statements I find so magnetic and charged, so inviting into their mystery, that I find myself devoured by my curiosity and longing to be close to the Divine. I recognize my limitations in appreciating the Quran fully as it deserves due to my lack of fluency in Arabic, but its glory is that even when translated from its original tongue (which is so crucial), it still touches the heart in a way that nothing else can.
When I come across certain verses, it is as if time has slowed to a gentle stop. Noise vanishes, my surroundings become irrelevant, my modern distraction ridden brain calms. I always, without fail, have to stop and give in to this change inviting me towards reflection, no matter how many times before I have encountered it or how well I think I understand it. Each time, such is the miraculous nature of the holy Book, my mind and spirit seem to be resurrected in complete and utter wonder. It’s as if I’m seeing those words for the first time, and am at once inundated with thoughts and queries of their magnanimous nature.
So, here are twelve of those verses and some reflections, starting with one that serves as a sort of preface to the rest:
“Say, O Prophet, ‘If the ocean were ink for ˹writing˺ the Words of my Lord, it would certainly run out before the Words of my Lord were finished, even if We refilled it with its equal.’” [18:109]
This verse only amplifies the already deeply powerful presence of every other throughout the Quran, for we know that had He wanted, Allah could have offered us a much lengthier Book. And yet, in His ultimate wisdom, He gave us this one, with 6,348 verses. That makes the intentionality of each word even more meaningful and worthy of awe and gratitude. Think of the ocean blanketing this planet…in its vastness and depths we have yet to even fully discover and comprehend. Even just what one can see sitting on a beach — all of that as ink! The wisdom of Allah is truly infinite. He is infinite and eternal, something we must consistently remind ourselves of to praise Him as is deserved, and to remember that He who provides for us is beyond complexity or limitations. We look at the sea and see it as limitless, but it is only He and His glory that may take the claim.
“O believers! Respond to Allah and His Messenger when he calls you to that which gives you life. And know that Allah intervenes between a man and his heart, and that to Him you will all be gathered.” [8:24]
All I can think when I read this is to pray, now and forever, that Allah intervenes between me and my heart so that I always please Him. Allow me to be amongst your blessed servants who seek only your pleasure and live to see Your Promise. Let us not be amongst those whose hearts are corrupted and serve other than You; let them be purified vessels for endless good, always.
“And we are closer to them than their jugular vein.” [50:16]
What can one even say about this…I put my hand on my neck and close my eyes. How could I ever complain or claim to be distant…how could I despair or dare to forget the truth of Your closeness…!? The jugular veins are located in your neck, tasked with bringing blood from your head back to your heart. SubhanAllah! What does the Divine’s mercy do if not unite us so, reorient us, revitalize us? And it is our neck that holds us together, after all…in that way it is dear to us in the way one is close to something, as in a beloved manner. Allah surely is not only proximally never far, He is dearer to us, our truest purest self, than our essential life supply. He is our life supply then.
I am comforted in this knowledge when I fear that I have strayed and lost His favor; I’m reminded that He is so close to me that His knowledge encompasses the truth of what I feel in my mind, heart, and spirit, and that nothing can escape Him. That truth is a loving embrace and a liberating force.
“And who could be worse than one who attributes a lie to Allah?” [18:15]
While this verse is referring to polytheists and those who worship false Gods, I am awakened by this verse upon every encounter by just how clearly it captures the severity of such a common sin. Again, we have to remember the intentionality of Allah’s choice of words here. How many attribute lies to Allah — not only angry atheists and believers from other traditions who fail to recognize we worship the same One, but even, sadly, Muslims.
My heart aches when I read this and think of all who abuse in the name of Allah and claim their cruelty as His command…who justify their hatred and impurity by saying His blessed Word prescribed it. Those who neglect the beautiful essence and clarity of His 99 names to appoint their own, all so they can go on hurting the vulnerable and claiming it as their virtue. This verse also reminds me of a line from The Kite Runner, where a character says the only sin is theft, and every other is a variation of it. Lying, he explains, is stealing someone’s right to the truth. What a monumental sin to deprive people of the truth of The Only Truth! And to steal Allah’s right to be known as He is, how unkind, how unfair! The consequences of this travesty we have seen more than enough of in this age. With the line ‘who could be worse,’ we are explicitly informed of the weight of this deception. Let us pray we are never amongst such people; may we always know and honor the truth.
“Peace be upon you for what you patiently endured, and excellent is the final home.” [13:24]
This I find to be the gentlest ayah, if I may say so. It lingers long after you’ve read it, like a sweet summer breeze. It soaks you in comfort, lightens the weight pushing your spirit down, embraces you with a delicate touch.
This is what the angels will say to those granted Heaven when the gates are opened after Judgement Day. I adore and am in awe of the kindness laced in this statement…it is so moving in its mercy. Even the fact that it is the angels saying it reminds me of the angels sitting on our shoulders, our companions writing our blessings (for a good deed is a blessing) and our sins. Of course, the angels saying these exact words will be those tasked with opening the gates of Heaven, but this reorients me in a way where I’m at once reminded of the little friends we’re all occasionally guilty of forgetting. They see us day and night from birth to death. They too are witness to what we endure patiently and what we cannot. They will see us through to our final home, be it above or below.
I’m also captivated by the way Allah has framed this concept of being rewarded…it’s not merely saying ‘welcome to heaven, come in, you earned it’ — Allah reminds us that those granted entry are those who suffered, and who still rose with sabr. He reminds us that this life is not the one that matters, for the only eternity is in the hereafter, where your sorrows have gone to rest, and have blossomed into a beautiful passageway to endless ease. Here, the tears you shed — and held back — are reimbursed with the dewdrops of Jannahs’ gardens. Home, Allah reminds us, that which all of us seek, is not to be found in this temporary landscape. It is yet to come, and shall be, if we are granted so, nothing less than the perfection we have always sought. A mercy from the Most Merciful.
“And We did not create the heavens and the Earth and what is between them in play.” [21:16]
This verse has always struck me. It reminds me of the saying “Your incomprehension of God is your comprehension of God,” because it explicitly conveys how we simply do not and cannot understand the entire truth of God’s wisdom. How often do people ask why this world exists…perhaps it’s the oldest question there is! Like toddlers who always ask ‘why?’ — it is the perpetual query on our tongues and spirits, and has been since the dawn of time. How many philosophies have been defined by this wonder? Existentialism, for one. How many grieving tears have been shed to the knowledge that we don’t know! There is a time and a part of us that can not separate our understanding of ourselves and this world and our place in it from the curiosity as to why the world is so. But Allah tells us clearly here: none of it is in jest. This applies to all else too; not only does He mention ‘the heavens and the earth’ — He says ‘and what is between them.’ A reminder that nothing is without purpose, including me, including you, including green, including blue. Alhumdulillah.
“She cried, “Alas! I wish I had died before this, and was a thing long forgotten!’” [19:23]
In Surah Maryam, it’s narrated that this is what Maryam (as) remarked when suffering from labor pains as she was about to give birth to Nabi Isa (as). I have always been deeply attached to Surah Maryam and the blessed lady it’s named after in particular, and this verse especially so.
Aside from the immediate understanding that she was suffering from the extreme pains of childbirth, that too as such a young girl herself, I find something inexplicably beautiful in God’s choice to include these words in scripture. Every word is so intentional, we must remember. For Allah to specifically and deliberately choose to mention that her pain was so extreme — not only physically, but mentally — that she, His most beloved woman, expressed a desire to die and be forgotten…is so monumental. In this time especially, 2000+ years later, I’m sure you, reader, understand what I’m getting at. In some ways I’m at a loss for words because the Quran is felt in the very depths of us. Its unmatched sacred nature speaks to our truest inner self and essentially transports us to another realm. So I will not say much else other than Allah is the Greatest.
The inclusion of this verse is nothing short of sublime. It is ever so kind in how direct it is. Maryam’s humanity — and dare I say, with recognition that her blessed soul is beyond comparison, her relatability — shown here, invokes a sigh of relief. Allah heard her say those words and chose to let humanity know and memorize them, so we may remember that such pain does exist, and so do such thoughts and feelings. And yet Allah does not reprimand us for our humanity. He reminds us that even the greatest of us feel so, and most gently, He goes on to remind us that His mercy is always near. The next verse consoles: “Grieve not, verily your Lord has made a stream to flow beneath you.”
None of us will ever know the weight of Maryam’s struggle or the severity of her pain. Still, we suffer, weep, and wish as she did. We will not be blessed with the miracles she was uniquely bestowed with, but that is not to say Allah’s mercy will ever abandon us. It shall never neglect or forsake us, just as it never did her. She was told not to grieve, and in this story, Allah is telling us too, not to grieve, but to see the stream of mercy he has ready for us, if only we pause and look for it.
“Verily, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.” [13:11]
What is so moving about the Quran from an objective standpoint is that Allah speaks to the psychological condition of man across time and place. In His Word, He reminds us that none knows us, our minds, our hearts, and our souls, better than He, and none can provide us a better remedy for our woes. None can guide us to a straighter path, and none can take claim for our creation other than He.
I always come back to this verse as a reminder and a solace for myself. When I was young and naive, I had occasionally fallen victim to fatalism's tempting deception that rejects the truth of man’s free will. This promise, for that is what it is, informs us of the necessity of our reflection and our actions. We are told so clearly that to pray for change without making concrete movement towards it is meaningless, for Allah will only usher in a new dawn once we bid farewell to the dusk we have made our home. You can not insult Allah’s majestic creation of your mind and conscience by not using it — and then despair over the fact! As with everything, this verse too is intrinsically laced with His unending rahma. He is asking us to have mercy on ourselves, to love and care for ourselves enough to use our blessed faculties as they are intended to be used, for not doing so not only prevents the change we seek but — as psychological research confirms — harms us! Stagnancy is not only sorrowful; it is, in defying God’s command, sinful.
“So I do swear by the position of the stars, and that is indeed a great oath, if only you knew.” [56:75-76]
Allah makes multiple oaths throughout the holy Book that convey the magnanimous nature of His words. In Surah Waqiah, this verse always stands out to me because of 1) the mentioning of the stars, timeless, exquisite, and universal as they are, and 2) the line “if only you knew.”
I do not, as per Islamic guidance, believe in or endorse the concept of astrology. However, this verse makes me think about the concept on the basis of Allah swearing by the position of the stars. What could this mean? What makes it so powerful and mighty that it warrants inclusion and specifically the mention of us not knowing how grand it is? These beautiful lighted ornaments decorating the night sky, light years away, hold something holy within them.
Because this is such a unique and sensitive topic, and I do not wish to transgress any boundaries, I leave this reflection with these questions, marveling at His resplendent creation. Praise be to Him who created all the glories we know and do not know. If only we knew! If only, if only.
“And how can you be patient with what you do not know?” [18:68]
When I read Surah Kahf every Friday, there’s always a new angle I look at a verse with. This week, despite having read this so many times, something about these 12 words struck me in a different way, one I am so grateful for.
This question is what Hazrat Khidr (as) asks Nabi Musa (as) before embarking on their fateful journey. The entire narrative is one filled with endless wisdom, but this line in particular strikes me because of 1) the nature of the question and 2) the person asking it. This is again a verse where I recognize how different my thoughts could be if I knew Arabic fluently, because I’d be able to better understand the tone being used by Hazrat Khidr. Regardless, the idea that touched my heart was one I believe to be aligned with the glory and grace of Allah’s mercy, and so, despite linguistic logistics, I still believe in the power of intentionality here.
There is something I find so deeply sweet in the way this is asked and included in the story. There is a warmth inherent to it…almost like a recognition that you’re only human, so it’s natural for you not to be patient when you don’t know something, because how could you be? It’s not simply saying ‘you must be patient, you don’t know enough’; even though Khidr almost seems hesitant to take Moses with him, I imagine him not speaking in a berating tone — but in a merciful, loving, wise one, saying, you have to trust. It’s such a gentle preface into the larger story, telling Moses and us that it’s okay, we’re flawed and impatient human beings, it makes sense that we would ask the questions we inevitably do.
As Khidr is a special servant of God — blessed with His mercy in a way unlike others, living between realms and having access to divine wisdom in a way we are not granted — the fact that it’s him saying this makes it even softer. His presence and mystery is the defining essence of the story, a stunning note on the esoteric. How glorious of Allah to create such a saint and let us know of him too, another marker of His unending mercy. As their journey and story concludes, we’re reminded that instead of dwelling in our limited knowledge and insight as a tragedy, we can and ought to be liberated in it. Allah is the All Knowing, not us, and in that is endless solace, not sorrow.
“Where then are you going?” [81:26]
Of the questions Allah poses to humanity throughout the Quran, this one is my favorite. I find myself repeating it aloud to myself multiple times whenever I encounter it because it demands to be vocalized and brought into the physical space around me. Where am I going? Where are we going? Such questions I also adore because while the whole text is a direct address to us, the questions remind me of that more so; they pull me into orbit and make me sit up straight.
Have you ever seen those videos that zoom up and out of a random little place until you see the building from above, followed by the street, town, wider region, the whole map, eventually into the solar system and Milky Way and finally into the infinite and ever expanding universe? You’re reminded of not only your smallness but of the vast majesty of the Creator. People often share the video with captions like “Remember how small you are,” but I feel the opposite watching it; I am reminded of just how Great and Grand Allah is, and then when I remember His Message and direct address, I am reminded of how significant each of us and each of our decisions are. I ask myself in this endless cascade of action, where am I going? What am I doing with my time and energy and knowledge?
Life is a journey. Do I know the destination I seek to make my end? Am I actively moving towards it or have I found myself sat on a dirt road, unmoving and unconscious? Or worse, on the wrong path altogether!?
Thank you Lord, I say, for asking me to remember. How Exalted and Merciful are You!
“Everything will perish except the face of God.” [28:88]
There are so many verses throughout the Quran devoted to offering comfort. They are so sweetly simple, such gentle and warm words that tell our frail hearts all shall be well, we need not cry so, we are not alone. Glorious is each and every one: 3:139, 94:5, 13:28, etc. Yet none gives me solace like this one. I carry it with me as my eternal refuge, the cool water that extinguishes my hot emotions, the glue that pieces back together my broken and bruised spirit. Often, I linger, to my detriment, in laments. I am not, if my confessions thus far have not been clear enough, a lover of this life or world. It denies me easy breathing many a time. So then, the sheer oxygen this verse fills my lungs with, so fresh and relieving and needed, can not sufficiently be described. Everything will perish! Except the only worthy of remaining! Things shall be as they are meant to be, Allah consoles us. Everything will perish…all the dark and doomed and disingenuous…but the Lighted Truth shall live and live and live. The One and Only, the Ultimate and Eternal. A mercy, a mercy, a mercy.
The Quran is a spring whose waters never fail, quenching the trying thirst of our tired souls. How blessed are we to have been amongst those given this sanctimonious gift of all gifts. May we act on its instructions and revere it as it deserves, turning only to its pages when we seek comfort. May we use it to refine and enlighten our spirits, and that of the world.
thank you for sharing these reflections!
i went on a bit of a rabbit hunt on the jugular vein part. a thought came to me, why does God mention jugular vein and not carotid artery?
the name itself, wareed, has very intriguing meanings and linguistic connections. the root word warada means to come, arrive, go towards etc (see verse 28:23, "arrived at the well" ; warada/wurood is often used for going to a well to get water, or taking animals to a well to give them water). the same three root letters make the word dawara (and daara, the more common form), which has some meaning like circling (e.g., dawaratul miyah means bathroom, which is to say a water-place you frequent).
the point i'm getting to is this:
veins bring blood to the heart. the jugular brings it from the head to the heart. heart is where knowledge and taqwa (possibly iman as well by deduction) and "baseerah" are. there is a verse that says to the meaning of "it is not the eyes that go blind but the hearts in the chests." so if the jugular vein brings blood from brain to heart, in my mind it's a sort of metaphor for coming back/going to your heart, returning to the origin, aka God. this is a cyclical process, just as blood pumping is, and based on the verb root similarities i mentioned before.
in other words, the jugular vein doesnt only act as a metaphor for God's closeness to us, but withthin there is a reminder to keep going back to God, keep retuning from "mind/ego" to heart; return to presence, in body and spirit, aware of the Divine presence. The best form of belief is Ihsan, where you "worship God as if you can see Him; if you can't see Him, then surely He sees you." (paraphrasing from hadith of jibreel).
okay that's all lol. i should turn this into a post.
[and Allah swt knows best]
Ameen! Thank you for sharing these.
The two ayahs that really stood out to me were the ayah from Surah Maryam when Allah included her wish to die and be forgotten and the one in Kahf where khizr tells musa—peace be upon them both—how can you be patient over sonething you don’t know.
What Maryam alayha AsSalam said really makes me feel… idk the word… but shows me that it’s okay to feel like that sometimes. And to think that Allah put it in here for all of us to know that it’s okay to feel like that in your challenging moments in life and still be an amazing human is so comforting. Like being a strong believer doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings and emotions.
And the way you reflected on what khidr alayhi AsSalam said was so nice. Ive been reflecting a lot about parenting these days, so it really made me think about it in that sense.