IslamiCity
Listen PodCasts, Live Quran, Watch Videos @VideoHub
The first thirteen years of the Prophet Muhammad's (peace and blessings be upon him and his family) mission are known as the Makkan period, and the chapters and verses revealed during that time are referred to as the Makkan revelation.
The ultimate objective of Islam-and thus of the Prophet's apostleship-was first and foremost to cultivate and nurture individuals: spiritually, morally, intellectually, and emotionally. Only once the human being was refined and elevated could institutions and societies emerge, and these in turn would serve as the foundations upon which cultures and civilizations are built.
In essence, this signifies a framework within which human well-being, happiness, and ecstasy are defined, systematically pursued, and authentically lived. It represents the very core of the raison d'etre of human existence-and indeed of existence itself-with everything else, whether small or great, significant or trivial, playing only a secondary role.
All goodness, including civilizational blueprints and developmental molds, has already been bestowed upon man by his generous and kind Creator. Man's task in this fleeting terrestrial world is simply to embrace these gifts with gratitude and accountability, and to live accordingly. He is born pure, innocent, advanced, and even "civilized."
Thus, humanity's mission is not to reinvent itself, but to continuously devise plans, governance systems, and operational structures that preserve and maintain this advanced and refined status. Man is merely to remain himself: natural, rational, and faithful to his inborn primordial nature. He is neither to pierce the earth nor to reach the mountains in height. He is to live life as it was created and meant to be. He is to be normal, nothing more, nothing less.
In this way, the Makkan revelation laid the groundwork for a civilizational order rooted in the transformation of the individual. People are built first, and only then do they build civilization in their own image. Without people, there is no one to conceive or generate the ingredients of civilization; what is called "civilization" under such circumstances is nothing more than a mirage, a fantasy, or a pretentious display of individual and collective comportment.
Doomed is the civilization that glorifies matter or chases unreachable illusions, for in the process it dehumanizes and alienates man who is neither sheer matter nor a fleeting illusion. Civilization must remain at once human-centric and holistic at every stage of its evolution; it must be from the people, by the people, and for the people. In truth, civilization is nothing more than a tool, a means for the support and advancement of man as the ultimate goal.
Man, aided by revelation, is to use civilization as a platform to ascend towards unimaginable heights of both material and immaterial realities. Civilization, positively, is not a summit to be conquered, but a purity to be preserved; nor is it a journey of becoming, but a state of being.
Civilization is therefore a mirror of man's soul. When man is corrupted, civilization collapses into a hallucination, becoming grand in appearance, hollow in essence. There is no inherently bad or worthless civilization; there are only bad, corrupt, and worthless people. Revelation insists that the destiny of societies is inseparable from the destiny of the human spirit.
The Qur'an is unequivocal: "Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves" (al-Ra'd 11). Thus, people should not exert themselves in vain to attempt the work of the Lord of the universe. Their task is not to usurp divine prerogative, but to reform themselves.
From individuals to institutions, from institutions to civilizations-this was the trail extolled by revelation: a trail that begins with the human spirit and culminates in the flourishing of humanity. It is an arc that commences here and now, yet travels as far as human imagination and potential can propel it, inscribing upon history the truth that civilization is nothing but the reflection of man's inner state.
The Makkan chapters and verses of the Qur'an were, by and large, awakening, illuminating, transformative, and deeply contemplative. They addressed the purification of the soul, the reorientation of intellectual dispositions, the shaping of an existential worldview, and the grounding of beliefs concerning the realities of life-both physical and metaphysical. Man was summoned to confront what life truly is, who he is within it, and how he is to live that life with meaning and purpose.
Creation itself was revealed as a delicate, reciprocal, and interconnected whole, compelling reflection upon the relationships between its elements and, above all, upon man's relationship with the Creator. Yet the multitude of quasi-religions and pseudo-philosophical constructs, while resolving few dilemmas and dispelling little confusion, merely compounded the predicament, alienating man from his essence and estranging him from the very realities he was meant to embrace.
The gravity of the situation necessitated that the Makkan revelations focus on core beliefs: tawhid, the unity of Allah; prophethood; the unseen realities of angels; the inevitability of the Day of Judgment; and the creation of man with his divinely ordained mission on earth.
Narratives of earlier nations were invoked to warn and inspire, to teach the followers of the final Prophet the paradigms of individual and collective conduct essential for self and communal development. Their style appealed to reason, common sense, and intrinsic human consciousness, questioning prevailing viewpoints and challenging people to align their thought with the cognitive gifts bestowed by the Creator.
Thus, the first revelations were short, powerful, direct, engaging, thought-provoking, and poetic in their resonance. They also aimed at moral reform and the shaping of identity, making the development of human capital an all-encompassing endeavor.
The revelations of the Qur'an at the close of the Makkan period and the dawn of the Madinan era signified a smooth and deliberate transition from the formation of individuals to the organization of an organic community. The new community was to be governed by a comprehensive socio-political and economic system, sustained by advanced and interrelated institutions. The fruits of earlier struggles were harnessed to confront the novel and more complex challenges of Madinah. The cultivation of persons was thus elevated to the vantage point of building an ummah.
Moral reform, centered upon self-consciousness, dignity, patience, and inner strength, was intensified into the construction of institutions: the state, the mosque, the family, the home, the market, the military, treaties, law, and demographic plurality. The objective was to employ the prepared capacities of individuals for the building of community, polity, and civilization. And beyond Madinah, the prospect of a world order beckoned, its unprecedented challenges massive, but its promise nothing less than global civilizational renewal.
The Battle of Badr, additionally, must be viewed against the backdrop of the above-explained unending personal and social development dynamics. To study it in isolation would be a misstep. Rather, it represented the convergence of Makkan capacity building outcomes, the implications of the transitional paradigm shift, and the initial Madinan community-building strategies. Together, these forces demonstrated their potency and set the stage for a promising future.
Badr marked the moment when Muslims graduated from one stage of growth to another, for which all premises had been laid. It was akin to an appreciation ceremony, inscribing in history the manifesto that the stages of faith, initiative, and community inevitably culminate in victory and renewal. Civilization, it has likewise been avowed, cannot be bought, borrowed, or copied; it must be created and lived, before as much as after.
It is an established fact, both historically and scripturally, that the Prophet migrated from Makkah to Madinah accompanied by Abu Bakr. The Qur'an itself records him as "the second of the two" and the Prophet's "co-traveler" (al-Tawbah 40). During that arduous and perilous journey, the two were confined within the small cave of Thawr, while the Quraysh pursuers, bloodthirsty and relentless, reached its very entrance. Their unholy designs were thwarted only by the direct, miraculous intervention of Allah.
From the perspective of worldly standards and human rationalization, there was no conceivable escape. Abu Bakr, therefore, acted as any mortal would. Despite his extraordinary qualities, he panicked and grieved, not out of weakness, but as a natural consequence of human nature. His fear was not for himself, but for the Prophet and the future of his mission. At that moment, Allah had not yet declared His absolute protection of the Prophet against harm, a guarantee later affirmed in Madinah (al-Ma'idah 67).
Abu Bakr's monumental faith and courage were momentarily eclipsed by his unreserved love and concern for the Prophet. Through this, he also revealed his concern for humanity and its wellbeing, for the Prophet's mission was inseparable from the destiny of mankind. He was not afraid in the conventional sense, but as a mortal subject to life's turbulent interchanges, displaying emotional liabilities that can affect moods, decisions, and outlooks.
In that defining instant the Prophet-residing at a higher level of reality and operating beyond earthly standards-stepped in to comfort his voyage partner with words that conveyed security and peace of heart: "Do not grieve; indeed Allah is with us" (al-Tawbah 40). In another narration, the Prophet reassured him: "What could happen to two men who have Allah as the third with them?" (Sahih al-Bukhari). Tranquility descended upon Abu Bakr, and encouragement upon the Prophet, foreshadowing the divine support that would later manifest in Madinah and culminate at Badr.
The conspicuous presence and role of Abu Bakr in both moments catch the eye. His performance in the cave of Thawr, highlighted in revelation, was not undesirable or blameworthy, but rather a reflection of human susceptibilities, which were evocative of the state of the Muslim community at that stage. Refined, pious, devoted, and dependable, they were nevertheless yet to be tested by the severe demands of the social capital formation and the defense of Islam's growing legacy in ways previously neither accessible nor necessary.
In such critical junctures, attention to detail was paramount. Even small issues, if neglected, could swell into greater vulnerabilities under the heat of trial. Yet the Prophet and Allah were the best and most trusted teachers, guides, and healers. With them, a degree of perfection within earthly terms became possible.
No sooner had the companions migrated to Madinah than the intensification and diversification of human development began to morph into community flourishing. Sometimes this required fine-tuning, sometimes completion, and at other times the assumption of entirely new dimensions. The processes were intensive and demanding, yet the companions proved equal to the task. Their readiness was forged in the crucible of hardship, and their resilience prepared them for the decisive test that awaited at Badr.
The Battle of Badr was the most critical and most revelatory test of the early Muslim society. Here too Abu Bakr-among others-acted on behalf of the ummah, especially on the eve of the confrontation. While there were several precarious moments, the one involving Abu Bakr deserves particular attention.
The Prophet prayed to his Lord persistently, day and night, seeking divine aid at Badr. As the engagement grew fierce, he supplicated again: "O Allah! Should this group of Muslims be defeated today, You will no longer be worshipped." He continued to call upon Allah, stretching forth his hands and facing the Qiblah, until his cloak slipped from his shoulders. Abu Bakr approached, replaced the cloak, and said: "O Prophet of Allah, you have cried out enough to your Lord. He will surely fulfill what He has promised you."
One should keep in mind that while the Prophet had comforted Abu Bakr in the cave of Thawr during the hijrah-when Abu Bakr displayed human susceptibility out of concern for the Prophet's safety-it was now Abu Bakr at Badr who comforted and assured the Prophet. Out of his own humanness and his profound love for the ummah, the Prophet momentarily wondered whether they were ready for the battle and were able to shoulder its trials. This was perhaps the most pivotal point, almost a now-or-never threshold, for the fruits of earlier human and spiritual development to manifest. Even a dose of nervousness could be attributed to the Prophet, intensified by the words of Sa'd ibn Mu'adh, who suggested a plan B in case of defeat.
As reported by al-Mubarakpuri in "The Sealed Nectar," Sa'd proposed building a trellis or shelter for the Prophet to serve as headquarters and protection. He reasoned that if victory came, all would be well; but if defeat struck, the Prophet would be safeguarded and could return to Madinah, where loyal supporters would rally to him anew.
However, Abu Bakr's response carried far greater weight. His assurance was not merely consolation; it epitomized the voice of the ummah. His words embodied the results of years of the human capital weaving, now tested in the cauldron of real-life challenges. It was as if Abu Bakr declared: "Do not worry, we are ready. With the grace and help of Allah, everything will be fine. The Muslims will rise to the challenge and contribute their share to victory."
And so it happened. Allah fulfilled His promise, and the dedication and steadfastness of the Muslims triggered divine intervention. The participants of Badr came to be regarded among the finest of the Prophet's companions. They became standard-setters, embodiments of truthfulness and jihad. The Prophet himself affirmed their unique status, saying: "What do you know, perhaps Allah looked at the people of Badr and said: 'Do whatever you wish, for I have forgiven you'" (Sahih al-Bukhari).
Badr was thus not merely a battle; it was a recognition rite, a divine awarding of legitimacy. What transpired on that day was more than victory; it was the consecration of a community. The apprentices of Makkah had become the graduates of Badr, stepping forth as the standard-bearers of faith. In their triumph, the headway of Islam was inaugurated: from individual struggle to communal strength, from fragile beginnings to collective inheritance.
With such ideals before them, believers are destined to exceed expectations regardless of the odds, willing and able to move mountains. They will generate miracles within earthly contexts, embodying a form of human perfection. Their achievements will be unmatchable, their legacy unsurpassable. They will be more than merely human, operating on a higher plane than the constricting earth. It is better to aim for the stars, for even if one falls short, one still reaches the sky and its moon. Come what may, believers tread only the paths of victory, for failure neither exists in their vocabulary nor aligns with the trajectory of their mission. Allah is always with them, and their ultimate destination is none other than Paradise and eternal bliss in the Hereafter. What can go wrong given the situation?
In consequence, when Surah al-Anfal-revealed in conjunction with the Battle of Badr-analyzes the encounter in all its universal dimensions, it lays the groundwork for what may rightly be called the ethics of Islamic warfare and, more broadly, the conceptual framework for engaging with the universe of disbelief. However, its foremost concern is not the clash of arms alone, but the perfection of the ongoing project of human development. This focus can be discerned either within the wider frame of personal and collective growth, with the battle serving as but one dimension, or within the dynamic subtleties of the battle itself. In both readings, the nuances of Islam's perfectionist approach, aiming at outcomes of the highest order, stand out unmistakably.
That is the reason why the reports of Surah al‑Anfal-as insightfully elaborated by al‑Maududi in his "Tafhim al‑Qur'an"-begin not with gloating over victory, as worldly commanders and their chronicles normally do after great triumphs, but with the moral weaknesses that surfaced during the expedition. These had to be pointed out so that the Muslims might strive to refine and reform themselves. "It has been impressed upon them that the victory was due to the succor of Allah rather than to their own valor and bravery, so that the Muslims should learn to rely on Him and obey Allah and His Messenger alone." What the Surah highlights was by no means a major failing, yet in light of Islam's standards and goals, the concerns were considerable and demanded immediate attention. In Islam's perfectionist vision, further improvements-whenever and wherever possible-take precedence over everything else. The beckoning implications of pursuing excellence and distinction are such that all other interests fade into insignificance before them.
The opening verse of Surah al‑Anfal records the dispute among some Muslims regarding the spoils of war. Badr was their first battle, and the acquisition and distribution of material gains presented them with a challenge they had never faced before. Unsurprisingly, not everyone was of one mind. Yet answers and precedents for the future had to be established. In truth, there was nothing fundamentally wrong in what the people sought or demanded; the real issue lay in setting priorities aright and adopting the proper methods in doing so.
The Qur'an affirms that what the Muslims acquired at Badr was not merely the spoils of war, but rather the "bounties of Allah." It substantiates this by showing that victory at Badr-and indeed in every battle-was secured by His succor, not by human effort alone. In subsequent verses of Surah al‑Anfal, the Qur'an underlines that the true aim of Muslim warfare is not about loot, but about the removal of impediments to Islam's message and order. The spoils, being divine bounties, belong to Allah and His Messenger, who alone are entitled to distribute them. Only after conditioning the believers to accept this principle were the specific shares later apportioned. The Battle of Badr was ordained by Allah so that Islam might triumph over ignorance. The abiding lesson is that Muslims must place their trust in their Creator, prepare themselves for struggle as part of their service to His truth, and never be beguiled by Satan as the disbelievers were (Al‑Maududi, Tafhim al‑Qur'an).
Before delving into the practical aspects of the battle and its equally practical corollaries, it was crucial that the spiritual and moral state of the believers be addressed first. The chronology may appear awkward to some, which is true if one judges events solely through the prisms of contingent time, space, and terrestrial causality.
Nevertheless, if one's lenses are attuned to the consequentiality and interconnectivity of the entire tapestry of existence, where the "here and there" of the spiritual kingdom and the "now and then" of the Hereafter closely correlate, he will perceive and comprehend matters differently. It goes without saying that the Qur'anic approach represents the highest manifestation of the divine method, providing precisely the latter lenses.
Surah al‑Anfal is a luminous specimen of how the Qur'an perceives and engages history, whereby truth and the believers are its fundamental pivots, as well as its centers of gravity around which all masses, bodies, currents, and activities revolve.
The Surah continues the sentiment of the second part of its opening verse by impressing upon the believers that their constitution is made up of profound, mutually complementing internal and external dimensions. These dimensions are subject to increase and decrease, depending on the forces and factors that hold sway over them.
Hence, situating Badr-and other critical episodes-within the unfolding revelation of Islam and the concurrent growth and function of the Muslim community was of paramount importance. The words "their hearts become fearful" and "it increases them in faith" (al-Anfal 2) are unmistakable evidences of this truth. They show that the improvement and development of the believer's total being is necessary, with growth and reform in every sense of the term as their constant life companion.
Moreover, at the same time, the initial educative verses stress that so long as the believers are sincere, honest, and genuine in faith, living their lives in commitment to the fundamental principles and rituals of the religion, they are true believers. Whatever shortcomings arise within such a powerful spiritual, moral, and intellectual state are inconsequential and therefore forgivable. They are not major, nor persistent, nor intentional-stemming from deliberate faithlessness, stubbornness, or rebellion.
Rather, they are minor, temporary, and often unintentional slips, occurring in the course of sustained processes of growth and reform. They are proof of humanness, not faithlessness; they are marks of a community in reform, not in rebellion.
Human beings are, in essence, imperfect, and their vulnerabilities shine forth most when tested by the fires of reform and the disciplines of learning. Mistakes would be minimized if the reformative journey were fulfilled and the stage of accomplished progress reached. There is indeed no shame in the fall, only in refusing to rise. To stumble is human; to remain fallen is ruin. This assurance was a great lift and boost for the people of Badr and the earliest Muslims, and it remains so for all Muslims who face the similar challenges of out-and-out reform and maturity in every age and place.
The Qur'an, in the second, third, and fourth verses of Surah al‑Anfal, states before turning its attention to the battle itself: "The believers are only those who, when Allah is mentioned, their hearts become fearful, and when His verses are recited to them, it increases them in faith; and upon their Lord they rely. The ones who establish prayer, and from what We have provided them, they spend. Those are the believers, truly. For them are degrees (of high position) with their Lord and forgiveness and noble provision" (al-Anfal 2-4).
Towards this end, the Qur'an offers mild and educative criticism of the reaction of a group of Muslims on the eve of the battle. It describes their initial state as being averse to the prospect of meeting the formidably armed and well‑prepared Quraysh on the battlefield, while they themselves were poorly equipped and unready (al‑Anfal 5). As a result, they argued with the Prophet concerning the truth after it had already become clear-"as if they were being driven towards death while they were looking on" (al‑Anfal 6).
At the center of this portrayal stands the true believer as a comprehensive reality and an undeniable marvel. Shaped by the material and immaterial forces of revelation and its transcendent truth, he rises like a mountain in eminence and stature, like a titan in his radiant aura, and like a being of another world in his drive, reach, and compass. What the naked eye perceives is but a shell, often deceiving, yet within it lies a supernatural substance - spiritual, moral, intellectual, and emotional - capable of producing correspondingly extraordinary outcomes.
To truly grasp who and what the believer is requires more than ordinary perception. For he embodies and lives beyond the merely physical dimensions of existence, continually verifying and demonstrating his larger-than-life identity in all that he does. His life he molds in his own image, and in a sense, he and his life are miracles when viewed from a purely earthly viewpoint. Much of who he is and what he accomplishes - above all, his origin, calling, and his ultimate aim - transcend this world.
Thus, it is not unfounded in Islam to believe that an exemplary servant of Allah may, by divine permission, become the locus of actual miracles. Such deeds are known as karamat - extraordinary events granted by Allah to His righteous servants, the awliya' (saints). However, the Qur'an is explicit that all true believers (mu'minun) and all the God-conscious (muttaqun) are the awliya' of Allah, as declared in Surah Yunus verses 62 and 63.
To this effect are the words of the Prophet: "Beware of the believer's intuition, for indeed he sees with the Light of Allah." This narration is recorded by al-Tirmidhi in his Jami', and though its chain has been graded as weak (da'if), it is not without value or meaning. Scholars have noted that while such reports may lack the rigor of sound (sahih) transmission, they nevertheless convey a truth consistent with Qur'anic principles: that the believer, purified by faith and taqwa, is granted a penetrating vision that perceives realities beyond outward appearances.
In other words, without exaggeration, it may be seen that the believer is more than an ordinary mortal in the materialistic sense of the word, and more than merely terrestrial in the naturalistic sense. The Prophet affirmed this verity with additional examples, saying: "Whoever reads Surah al‑Kahf on the night of Jumu'ah (Friday), will have a light that stretches between him and the Ancient House (the Ka'bah)" (narrated by al‑Darimi and classed as sahih), and: "Whoever reads Surah al‑Kahf on the day of Jumu'ah (Friday), will have a light that shines from him from one Friday to the next" (narrated by al‑Hakim).
The above reports underscore that the believer's existence is not merely defined by earthly categories, but by a monumental identity that continually manifests the colossal dimensions of faith. His life is illuminated by divine light, his actions reverberate with sublime meaning, and his very being becomes a locus of magnanimity and wonder.
The believers endowed with such superhuman traits represent the ultimate goal of Islam's human and communal development. The standards set before them are undeniably lofty-so high as to be almost invisible to ordinary vision-yet they are neither unrealistic nor unattainable.
Islam has simultaneously provided the means, strategies, and mechanisms to make these achievements possible. It is these unprecedented standards that Allah had in mind in Surah al‑Anfal when He said: "O Prophet, urge the believers to battle. If there are among you twenty (who are) steadfast, they will overcome two hundred. And if there are among you one hundred (who are) steadfast, they will overcome a thousand of those who have disbelieved because they are a people who do not understand" (al-Anfal 65).
The ratio of one believer to ten disbelievers denotes the ideal towards which the faithful must strive: a paradigm of motivation and the maximum extent of human potential. It is not a military blueprint nor a recurring reality on the battlefield. Instances of such ratios may have occurred, but they were exceptions rather than rules, validating the plausibility of the paradigm and its benchmarks. The stipulated conditions were steadfastness, patience, and understanding, standing in contrast to the ignorance of the disbelievers.
Lacking authentic knowledge of themselves, of life, of the universe, and of truth, the disbelievers are disoriented, foundationless, incapacitated, and thus no match for believers who not only grasp the truth but embody it, thereby living it and enabling themselves to serve as Allah's vicegerents on earth.
When pitted against one another, even the greatest material power of the disbelievers pales before the spiritual, moral, and heavenly supremacy that accompanies the believers. It is Allah who dictates the terms of existence and determines the outcomes of battles. How, then, can those who deny Him ever be truly victorious, and how can those who submit to Him ever be truly defeated?
Hence, even in apparent defeat believers perceive victory, while disbelievers even in apparent victory taste defeat. For the believer, the outcome is always gain: either worldly victory or death followed by Paradise (Jannah). For the disbeliever, however, the outcome is always loss: either death leading to Hellfire, or worldly victory that only deepens his sin and exacerbates his standing in the Hereafter.
The aforesaid ethos was captured by Khalid ibn al‑Walid in his correspondence with the Persian monarch Yazdegerd III during the early futuhat (openings to Islam): "I bring you an army that loves death as much as you love life." His intent was to emphasize the spiritual ethos of the Muslim fighters-their readiness for martyrdom and eternal reward-contrasted with the Persians' attachment to worldly life and shallow motives for war.
They were inwardly unprepared for the harsh realities of war-death, pain, suffering, and uncertainty at best-all of which stood in stark opposition to the narrow horizons of their limited worldview.
Al‑Zamakhshari, in his tafsir of the Qur'an, commented on the Qur'anic phrase "they are a people who do not understand": "That is, because the disbelievers are an ignorant people who fight without reckoning or seeking reward, like cattle. Their steadfastness is diminished, and due to their ignorance of God, they are deprived of His support and deserve His abandonment. This differs markedly from those who fight with insight, possessing what entitles them to victory and manifestation from God, exalted be He."
This verse is not an abrogation of the former, as some have supposed. Rather, it functions as a practical guide, acknowledging that not all Muslims are alike and that not all will reach the loftiest standards set before them. There will always be those who falter-physically, courageously, or spiritually. The verse's immediate focus was the early, nascent, and fragile Muslim community in Madinah at the time of the Battle of Badr, when weaknesses and vulnerabilities were still apparent.
True, the Muslims were inwardly strong, but many were new to the faith and its way of life, so their strength required careful nurturing and continual consolidation. Under such circumstances, Allah, in His mercy, lowered the expectations, setting the ratio at one believer for two disbelievers in battle.
However, the grand and exalted standards remained above as reminders and motivations-signposts of who the believers are and how high they must always strive. Even under conditions of physical and military weakness, one Muslim was deemed sufficient to face two disbelievers, which in itself is remarkable. This ratio reveals the true worth of both sides: the value of the believer, even at his lowest, exceeds that of the disbeliever at his highest. Indeed, the worth of the believer is always greater, for his strength is not merely material but spiritual, moral, and divinely sustained.
According to Muhammad Asad in "The Message of the Qur'an," the proportions of one to two-or, as in the preceding verse, one to ten-are not to be taken literally. In reality, at Badr the Muslims overcame a far better‑armed force more than three times their own number, which was less than the noblest ideal yet more than the merciful concession. The reference to God's having "lightened the burden" imposed on the believers makes it clear that both this and the preceding verse are framed as exhortations rather than precise ratios or predictions of future events. Their purpose was to inspire and motivate, not to prescribe a fixed military formula for Badr or for any subsequent battle.
At any rate, the believers were the utmost capital for building society and generating the ingredients of civilization. No other asset could compare. With them on board, everything was possible; without them, nothing could be achieved. Whether strong and enlightened or less so, they were the finest that life could produce and offer for its sustainable flourishing. History itself bears witness that believers have always been the only genuinely constructive and sustaining force on earth.
That is why, when meeting those who disbelieve and advancing into battle, they are not permitted to turn their backs in flight (al‑Anfal 15-16). Nor are they to fall into dispute and quarrel, thereby losing courage after which their strength would depart, stripping them of that which made them "mighty" believers. In such a state they would degrade themselves to the level of the disbelievers, rendering themselves vulnerable and ultimately defeatable (al‑Anfal 46). As the only true guardians of the earth and of life's ontological order, believers are not to surrender any ground to the disbelievers, for doing so would enable them to spread mischief and corruption across the entire terrestrial realm.
It is therefore unsurprising that the Qur'an highlights the greatest resource the Prophet had at his disposal for fulfilling his mission-encompassing both the domains of earth and heaven-was the community of believers whose hearts had been brought together and illuminated exclusively with the truth of Islam. Nothing else could unite them, nor render them such powerful and mighty assistance (al‑Anfal 63). The believers come immediately after the mention of the direct support of Allah Himself. Allah says: "But if they intend to deceive you-then sufficient for you is Allah. It is He who supported you with His help and with the believers" (al‑Anfal 62).
And again: "O Prophet, Allah and the believers who follow you are sufficient support for you" (al‑Anfal 64). As al‑Qurtubi explains in his tafsir, this particular verse was revealed on the eve of the Battle of Badr as encouragement to the Prophet, reminding him who his true aides were and where his furthermost strength lay. However, the latter verse can also be understood more broadly: "O Prophet, sufficient for you is Allah and for whoever follows you of the believers."
In "Hilyah al‑Awliya'" by Abu Nu'aym al‑Isfahani, it is reported that 'Umar once sat in a house with his companions and said: "Make a wish." One companion replied: "I wish for this house to be filled with gold so that I may spend it in the path of Allah." 'Umar responded: "That is good, but make another wish."
Another said: "I wish for this house to be filled with pearls and precious stones so that I may spend them in the path of Allah." Again 'Umar replied: "That is good, but make another wish." Then 'Umar himself declared: "I wish for this house to be filled with men like Abu 'Ubayda ibn al‑Jarrah (so that I may employ them in the path of Allah and in the service of His religion)."
While others wished for material wealth as a means of defending and conveying Islam to the world, 'Umar wished for talent pool and the affluence of souls, that is to say, for men of devotion, integrity, and strength. This story, just like the chronicle of the Battle of Badr and indeed the entire course of Muslim history, illustrates that the true wealth of the Ummah is not gold or jewels-or petrol in the contemporary context-but righteous believers whose character, commitment, and visionary dispositions sustain the mission of Islam and the wellbeing of Muslims.
The goodness of material fortune may prove deceptive, turning into a curse in the long run; whereas the goodness of believers is a heavenly gift that keeps on giving. The luster of gold fades into ruin; the light of faith and those who exemplify it never dims nor fails.
Be A Soldier of Truth
