The Crucified Lover of God: Martyrdom in Al-Ḥallāj’s Poetry

The crucified lover of God stands in front of the court of Baghdad unfazed, crying, “Kill me, O my faithful friends….” He goes silent and Abu al-Ḥārith, his executioner, strikes him in the face, breaking his nose, blood running down his clothing.¹ This moment of unspeakable cruelty for al-Ḥallāj was transformed into an act of divine love. Al-Ḥallāj’s poetic embrace of death reveals his deep commitment to fanāʾ as divine fulfillment. But why? Why did al-Ḥallāj persist on the idea of annihilation in his life and writing? For him, martyrdom is not a tragedy but an act of pure divine love for the only true existence, the absolute reality, the only “I” – God. His poetry stands as a symbol of resistance against the oppressive traditionalist religious and political structures. This article examines how Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj’s mystical poetry conceptualizes martyrdom, through his use of ecstatic language, paradox, and symbolism, as both a path to divine union and a form of defiance against religious and political orthodoxy. 

To gain a proper understanding of al-Ḥallāj’s poetry, his thoughts must be contextualized first. Born in the heart of Persia in 858, as described per Taha Abdel-Baqi Serour’s book, Al-Ḥusayn ibn Manṣūr Al-Ḥallāj: Martyr of Islamic Mysticism, al-Ḥallāj was raised in an intellectual environment. The Ḥanbalīs had a Quran and hadith school in the area and they made made use of mosques to debate and study. Al-Ḥallāj thus had memorized and mastered the Qur’ān by the age of 10, earning him admiration for his intelligence. He embraced the knowledge of his time, including hadith, jurisprudence, and exegesis. However, he sought something more. He expressed desire for knowledge that granted him miʿrāj (ascent) to God in his poetry.² The theme of longing for the divine runs throughout his poetry; it is thus necessary to understand how al-Ḥallāj’s radical view of divine love was articulated within a dominant era of religious and political orthodoxy. 

The ʿAbbāsid Caliphate (750–1258), particularly Baghdad, was characterized by its growth in mathematics, sciences, astronomy, medicine and law.³ When it comes to Islamic thought during that time, it can be better divided into two periods: before and after the Miḥna. The Miḥna (833–851) was a period of state-led persecution under al-Ma’mun (Caliph at the time) to enforce his belief of the Qur’ān’s createdness, a core concept in Mu’tazilism (dominant Islamic creedal school at the time). The main targets were proto-Sunni orthodox scholars such as the major Sunni figure Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal.⁴

However, four years into al-Mutawakkil’s (tenth Abbasid Caliph) reign, he saw the need to shift towards Sunni Orthodoxy to combat the widespread backlash to strengthen his rule. He thus persecuted Mu‘tazilite scholars, Shia Muslims and Dhimmīs (Christians and Jews living under Islamic rule).⁵ Prominent Sufis such as Ayn al-Qużāt Hamadānī, Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī and al-Ḥallāj faced cruel fates by political authorities as they were charged with heresy. The degree to which heresy was the real cause for their executions has been heavily debated. Al-Ḥallāj was accused of blasphemy for saying “anā al-ḥaqq” (I am the Truth) but it would be a misunderstanding to claim that those words killed him, as the main reason for al-Ḥallāj’s martyrdom was his sectarian affiliation with Qarmatians (militant Isma’ili Shia movement) as claimed by Baghdad’s court.⁶ Here we are met with two things: the need to understand what al-Ḥallāj meant by these so called “blasphemous” statements and how al-Ḥallāj acts as a force of resistance against the corruption of the ʿAbbāsid Caliphate. According to Serour, al-Ḥallāj believed in the corruption of the ʿAbbāsid Caliphate and he believed that Sufism could fight against it.⁷ Here, we also must understand al-Ḥallāj believed Sufism to be as it is a deeply immense and complex ideology.

Defining Sufism is a daunting task since it is a broad vast ideology and there is not necessarily an agreed upon definition. In his paper, Sufism in History and Its Relationship with Power, Tanvir Anjum looks at multiple definitions from scholars on the subject of Sufism and concludes that the main theme all these definitions have is “the idea of locating the latent divine sentiment in one’s heart or conscience. It is an attitude of mind, heart and soul that entails an individual’s direct relationship with God with a profound comprehension of the Real and Absolute Truth”.⁶ It can be understood that Sufism is a deeply spiritual journey in which the individual tries to connect with God or get close to God as much as they possibly can. Ibn ʿArabī (one of the most prominent Sufi scholars) expressed in his book Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikam (The Seals of Wisdom) the idea of al-Insān al-kāmil (the perfect human), a human becomes “perfect” when they reflect God’s attributes. According to Ibn ʿArabī, we are made in the image of God and we serve as a reflection of God’s attributes. Sufis like Ibn ʿArabī often cite the following Hadīth qudsī: 

“…My servant draws not near to Me with anything more loved by Me than the religious duties I have enjoined upon him, and My servant continues to draw near to Me with supererogatory works so that I shall love him. When I love him I am his hearing with which he hears, his seeing with which he sees, his hand with which he strikes and his foot with which he walks…”⁸

From this hadith, we can grasp why the idea of unity with God is heavily expressed in works of Sufis like al-Ḥallāj as the creator and the creation become One. All these ideas are clearly embedded in al-Ḥallāj’s poetry but it is necessary to consider what sets him apart from others. In the paper, Manṣūr Al-Ḥallāj and the Poetry of Ecstasy, Egyptian scholar of Arabic literature Samah Selim writes “Al-Ḥallāj’s ultimate sin against both the orthodox community and the Ṣūfī brotherhoods was that he systematically dared to speak what must not be spoken”.⁹ In a way, al-Ḥallāj’s fatal flaw was what made him special. He was unique in the sense that he rebelled against everyone out of his love for God. Despite his imprisonments, ill treatments, and brutality by the authorities, he never backed down or condemned his beliefs.⁹ The accusations against al-Ḥallāj, however, were not simply political; they were deeply tied to his radical poetic vision, which openly embraced martyrdom as the ultimate act of divine love. 

In his poem, “Uqṭulūnī yā thiqatī” (Kill me, O my faithful friends), al-Ḥallāj reveals to us his truth.

Arabic أقتلوني يا ثقاتي … إن في قتلي حياتي  ومماتي في حياتي … وحياتي في مماتي  أن عندي محو ذاتي … من أجل المكرمات  وبقائي في صفاتي … من قبيح السيئات  سئمت روحي حياتي … في الرسوم الباليات  فاقتلوني واحرقوني … بعظامي الفانيات

Transliteration Uq’tulūnī yā thiqātī … inna fī qatlī ḥayātī Wa-mamātī fī ḥayātī … wa-ḥayātī fī mamātī Inna ‘indī maḥwu dhātī … min ajli al-mukramāt Wa-baqā’ī fī ṣifātī … min qabīḥi as-sayyi’āt Sa’imit rūḥī ḥayātī … fī ar-rusūmi al-bāliyāt Faq’tulūnī waḥriqūnī … bi-‘iẓāmī al-fāniyāt

English Kill me, O my faithful friends … in my killing is my life And my death is in my life … and my life is in my death To me, the erasure of myself … is the noblest of virtues And my persistence in my attributes … is of the most repugnant evils My soul has grown weary of my life … among the decaying ruins So kill me and burn me … with my perishing bones

His poem starts off with a heavy line: “Kill me, O my faithful friends”. From the beginning, we are met with the theme of martyrdom. Al-Ḥallāj welcomes death with open arms. “Kill me” here refers to the Sufi concept of fanāʾ (spiritual annihilation). In “The Dual Mystical Concept of Fanāʾ and Baqāʾ in Early Sūfism”, researcher Andrew Wilcox writes “Fanāʾ is to die in God. It is to forsake the created world in contemplation of the unimaginable oneness of God”.¹⁰ This idea is echoed throughout al-Ḥallāj’s poetry, so “Kill me” here refers to annihilation of the ego, getting rid of every worldly material desire, leaving nothing there to be but the One. Al-Ḥallāj adds a layer of intimacy by referring to his “faithful friends,” it seems like he is calling upon his friends as well to join him in his annihilation journey. He continues with “in my killing is my life”, he juxtaposes the concept of life and death. In al-Suwaidawi’s research on the Antithesis in Al-Ḥallāj’s Poetry, they argue that reason does not accept such contradiction and that al-Ḥallāj does not view reason as the ultimate authority but he operates from the view that “love is the central axis of everything—the axis of both the conscious and the unconscious, the finite and the infinite”.¹¹ This helps us discern what matters to al-Ḥallāj, as we know that divine love is the dominator to his thinking. Thus, “In my killing is my life” can be understood as this worldly life is a prison to the soul (rūḥ) and true existence begins when one experiences fanāʾ.

Al-Ḥallāj further explains his idea in the next line—“And my death is in my life and my life is in my death”, we can observe that he continues using contradictory terminology to further describe his view of martyrdom. “Death” here as previously stated, signifies the annihilation of ego, it is here a necessary stage to reach spiritual fulfillment. This paradox that al-Ḥallāj poses implies that true life is when we rid ourselves of the material. He elaborates by saying “To me, the erasure of myself is the noblest of virtues”.

Al-Ḥallāj takes a heavy stance by claiming that the annihilation of himself would be the noblest of acts, this line helps us gain a better grasp of the essence of his poetry, as to him nothing is worth more than erasing himself to connect with his Beloved. In the subsequent line, he affirms his position by saying “And my persistence in my attributes is of the most repugnant evils”. Attributes here refer to human (worldly) attributes. Al-Ḥallāj emphasizes that his physical existence is inherently evil. In his research, M. Abdul Haq Ansari quotes al-Ḥallāj from Akhbar Al-Ḥallāj, saying he wants to be killed as he views himself as a curse and that his murder is a duty and if the people kill him for the sake of their religion, they will be rewarded. The author also argues that al-Ḥallāj would have possibly committed suicide if it was Islamically permissible (ḥalāl).¹² This offers us a deeper insight into Ḥallājian thought as we understand how he perceived himself as a “curse” that must be annihilated, and this is all clearly reflected in that line. There’s a sort of profound melancholy to his writing, one can contend that al-Ḥallāj not only carried deep love but also deep hate, deep hatred for his self. In a way, his idea of love is juxtaposed with hate. Indeed, for divine love to exist in Ḥallājian thought, one must carry hate and repugnance for their physical worldly existence.

Al-Ḥallāj goes into his poem to say “My soul has grown weary of my life among the decaying ruins”. He describes his exhaustion at having to live in this world. He interestingly uses the word “rūḥ” (often translated as soul/spirit) to represent the divine aspect of human life as to mean that the divine part of him is exasperated with this worldly life. He feels alienated amongst this material world that holds no intrinsic value to him. Al-Ḥallāj asks again to be killed, he says “So kill me and burn me with my perishing bones”. He affirms his stance; he affirms his need to be martyred to finally get rid of this worldly prison and be with God. He asks to be burned as it is the only way he can be sure that his material body will be gone forever. 

Al-Ḥallāj meticulously presents the concept of martyrdom in “Kill me, O my faithful friends”, we are able to see another profound exploration of this theme in his poem “I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart”.

Arabic رأيت ربي بعين قلبي … فقلت: من أنت؟ قال: أنت فليس للأين منك أين … وليس أين بحيث أنت!؟ أنت الذي حزت كل أين … بنحو لا أين فأين أنت؟ وليس للوهم منك وهم … فيعلم الوهم أين أنت؟ وجزت حد الدنو حتى … لم يعلم الأين أين أنت ففي بقائي ولا بقائي … وفي فنائي وجدت أنت في محو اسمي ورسم جسمي … سألت عني فقلت: أنت أشار سري إليك حتى … فنيت عني ودمت أنت وغاب عني حفيظ قلبي … عرفت سري فأين أنت أنت حياتي وسر قلبي … فحيثما كنت كنت أنت أحطت علما بكل شيء … فكل شيء أراه أنت فمنّ بالعفو يا إلهي … فليس أرجو سواك أنت

Transliteration Ra’aytu rabbī bi-‘ayni qalbī … fa-qultu: man anta? Qāla: anta Fa-laysa lil-ayni minka aynun … wa-laysa ayna ḥaythu anta!? Anta alladhī ḥuzta kulla ayna … bi-naḥwin lā ayn, fa-ayn anta? Wa-laysa lil-wahmi minka wahmun … fa-ya‘lamu al-wahmu ayna anta? Wa-jaztu ḥadda ad-dunū ḥattā … lam ya‘lam al-aynu ayna anta Fa-fī baqā’ī wa-lā baqā’ī … wa-fī fanā’ī wajadtu anta Fī maḥwi ismī wa-rasmi jismī … sa’altu ‘annī fa-qultu: anta Ashāra sirrī ilayka ḥattā … fanītu ‘annī wa-dumta anta Wa-ghāba ‘annī ḥafīẓu qalbī … ‘araftu sirrī fa-ayn anta Anta ḥayātī wa-sirru qalbī … fa-ḥaythumā kunt kunt anta Aḥaṭta ‘ilman bi-kulli shay’in … fa-kullu shay’in arāhu anta Fa-munna bil-‘afwi yā ilāhī … fa-laysa arjū siwāka anta

English  I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart … I said, ‘Who are You?’ He said, ‘You’ There is no ‘where’ for You to be found …  and ‘where’ does not exist where You are You are the One who has encompassed every ‘where’…  in a way that there is no ‘where’—so where are You? And there is no imagination of You in imagination …  So how can imagination know where You are? You surpassed the limit of nearness …  until even ‘where’ no longer knew where You are In my subsistence and non-subsistence … and in my annihilation, You are found. In the erasure of my name and the trace of my body … I asked about myself, and You said, ‘You.’ I directed my innermost secret toward You Until … I was annihilated, and only You remained The guardian of my heart became absent …  I knew my secret—so where are You? You are my life and the secret of my heart … Wherever I am, there You are You encompassed all things with Your knowledge …  So in everything I see, I see You Grant me Your forgiveness, O my Lord …  For I hope in none but You

We are met with a striking line at the start of the poem: “I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart, I asked, ‘Who are You?’ He said, ‘You’”. From the outset of this poem, the lover states the idea of fanāʾ. In these lines, al-Ḥallāj illustrates a metaphorical conversation he had with God; he uses the term “eye of my heart” as God cannot be seen with our naked eye, but he is seen with our hearts. The second part of the first line “I said, ‘Who are You?’ He said, ‘You’” may be interpreted as heretical by Orthodox traditionalist Muslim scholars as it can be interpreted as al-Ḥallāj equating himself to God. Ibn Taymīyah (highly-regarded traditionalist scholar), in his works not only claimed that al-Ḥallāj was a zindīq (heretic) and executed for his heresy but he also claimed that “Whoever says that he (al-Ḥallāj) was killed unjustly is either a hypocritical unbeliever or an ignorant deviant”.¹³ This bold assertion by a scholar like Ibn Taymīyah showcases the stringency and harshness of the traditionalist view. However, if we delve further into al-Ḥallāj’s poetry, we come to fathom that he is proclaiming nothing more than God’s oneness. 

Wilcox in his research cites al-Kharrāz (Sufi mystic) who has noted “Only God has the right to say “I,” for whoever says “I” will not reach the level of gnosis” (99). His words reverberate the concept that al-Ḥallāj proclaims in his poetry, when al-Ḥallāj refuses to declare his existence and refers to himself as “You”, he is not referring to himself as God rather he is eliminating himself. Unlike Islamic Orthodoxy where having a sense of self is extremely important, he resists against this notion thus the “I” that is traditionally used when referring to one’s self is not the same “I” that al-Ḥallāj employs. What he attempted to elucidate in his poetry is the construct that true submission to God lies in understanding that we are nothing compared to Him hence it is of arrogance for us to refer to ourselves as “I”. Martyrdom, the death of the self, is coming to the full realization that there’s no “I” but The “I”. Assertion of God’s Oneness (tawḥīd), the Shahāda (Islamic declaration of faith) “I bear witness that there is no god but God” (lā ilāha illā Allāh) means if God is one, there cannot be multiplicity thus there can only be one “I”.

This perspective is further advanced in the following line: “There is no ‘where’ for You to be found, and ‘where’ does not exist where You are”. Al-Ḥallāj negates the idea of God being confined to a physical space, the paradox here lies in the negation of the “where” since God is beyond space so the concept of “where” is not applicable to him. This idea asserts that He cannot be confined to standard notions of the self either. The Qur’ānic verse “…fa-’ayna mā tuwallū fa-thamma wajhu Allāh…” (So wherever you [might] turn, there is the Face of Allah)¹⁴ alludes to the concept that al-Ḥallāj is trying to present. God is both immanent and transcendent thus He cannot be confined to the shackles of the human reality, this echoes Ibn ʿArabī’s famous paradox of “Huwa, lā Huwa” (He, not He). This paradoxical lens offers a nuanced understanding of the Ḥallājian concept of fanā as we understand that the “I” that al-Ḥallāj uses is not the same orthodoxical “I” that is prevalently used. 

Al-Ḥallāj expands upon the lines before and continues the theme of space: “You are the One who has encompassed every ‘where’ In a way that there is no ‘where’—so where are You?” Here al-Ḥallāj affirms divine omnipresence as God is all-present, encompassing every place. The idea of no ‘where’ illustrates that he is not tied to any physical location, but he is everywhere at the same time. The idea of God not being tied to a place seems impossible to imagine for the human mind as we cannot grasp the concept of nowhere and everywhere existing at the same time thus al-Ḥallāj highlights the concept of our weak humanely imagination in his next line when he says “And there is no imagination of You in imagination, So how can imagination know where You are?”. These lines affirm the concept that we cannot truly grasp the concept of God as just as He is beyond spatiality, He is beyond conceptualization. The word wahm in Arabic in the poem refers to imagination or illusion. Al-Ḥallāj negates the idea of being able to imagine God and the repetition of “wahm” in the line implies that even imagination itself cannot imagine God Himself. The question that al-Ḥallāj poses in this line reveals the pointlessness of trying to place God in a location as imagination itself cannot conceive of God thus it is not a means of divine knowledge.  The ensuing lines continue to build on the concept of where. “You surpassed the limit of nearness, until even “where” no longer knew where You are”. Al-Ḥallāj suggests that God transcends these worldly concepts such as nearness that we have, thus negating the spatiality of God. This constant repetition of the idea of “where” being nonexistent in relation to God represents the glory of God as He’s beyond every worldly being. The theme of space that is explored is necessary for al-Ḥallāj’s idea of martyrdom since it stresses our inability to comprehend God’s greatness as a result advocating the need for us to submit to Him.

In the succeeding lines, we are met with core Sufi concepts which are fanāʾ and baqāʾ. “In my subsistence and non-subsistence, and in my annihilation, You are found.” Ali Al-Hujwīrī in Kashf al-Maḥjūb writes about al-Kharrāz who remarks on fanā and baqā “Annihilation (fanāʾ) is annihilation of consciousness of manhood, and subsistence (baqāʾ) is subsistence in the contemplation of Godhead”.¹⁵ This suggests that fanā is not necessarily the literal (physical) death of oneself rather it is the destruction of one’s consciousness thus the individual in fanāʾ dissolves into God; their ego and desires are obliterated. Baqā, on the other hand, implies persistence in God. Once one’s consciousness is annihilated, what is left is God. baqāʾ is not a return to one’s previous self—a transformation where the Sufi “subsists” through God. In these lines, al-Ḥallāj presents the same idea he presented in the line Kill me, O faithful friends: true existence lies when the worldly self is annihilated. In one’s annihilation, God is found. Martyrdom is not the end, rather it is a transformation, a beginning to the real existence of divine unity. Al-Ḥallāj continues his poem by illuminating how in the erasure of his name, which represents his ego and his body, God is found. “In the erasure of my name and the trace of my body, I asked about myself, and You said, ‘You.’” The lover is erased and is no longer distinguishable thus the only response to who he is, is God. What’s striking about al-Ḥallāj’s poetry is his constant repetition of this idea throughout his poem, as though he is emphasizing that it is his mission.

In the line that follows, “I directed my innermost secret toward You, Until I was annihilated, and only You remained”. Al-Ḥallāj refers to his deepest part of his soul (sirr) and gives up his most sacred thing for God until he’s obliterated so only God remains. He further reflects, “The guardian of my heart became absent, I knew my secret—so where are You?”. “The guardian of my heart” may allude to God as He’s the sacred protector of one’s self, in this line the lover no longer senses God and he has a turning point of maʿrifah (gnosis) where he becomes aware of his sirr. The loss of the “guardian” may imply losing divine support, an essential step before reaching divine union. This may be read as the instance before martyrdom, where the lover’s sirr is naked in front of him and his Lord. When the lover attempts to reach the deepest part of his soul, God seems ungraspable. His cry of “where are You?” is an echo of the mystic’s sirr, resonating in the silence that the Beloved has decided to fill. 

Al-Ḥallāj advances his poem and writes “You are my life and the secret of my heart, Wherever I am, there You are”. When he refers to God as his life and the secret of his heart, he is affirming God’s existence as he affirms that life cannot exist without God and thus everything belongs to the creator, so his life and heart belong to the only One. Al-Ḥallāj alludes to the Qur’ānic verse “…wa-aḥāṭa bikulli shay’in ‘ilma” (…He has encompassed all things in knowledge)¹⁶ in the following line, “You encompassed all things with Your knowledge, So in everything I see, I see You”. Al-Ḥallāj’s line both refer to the fact that nothing exists outside of God’s knowledge, he encompasses all, which also verifies the fact that we are dependent on God for our existence as we cannot go outside of his knowledge. The second part of the line “So in everything I see, I see You” touches on al-Ḥallāj’s belief that God Himself is the only true existence as he is present in everything, totality is signaled affirming the death of the mystic. Here the lover no longer exists as he is annihilated in God’s essence, what remains is God’s oneness. 

The last line of the poem, “Grant me Your forgiveness, O my Lord, For I hope in none but You”, is a conclusion to al-Ḥallāj’s understanding of the greatness of God as he knows there’s nothing for him to do but to exercise humility and ask for forgiveness from the only “I”. His plea to God hints at several verses in the Qur’ān such as “Qāla wa man yaqnaṭu min raḥmati rabbihi illā aḍ-ḍāllūn” (And who despairs of the mercy of his Lord except for those astray?)¹⁷ and “…Lā taqnaṭū min raḥmati Allāh…” (…do not despair of the mercy of Allah…),¹⁸ these allusions are not by chance rather al-Ḥallāj’s poetry constantly emphasizes the words of the Qur’ān, all of his so called “defiant” or unorthodox lines on divine union conclude in submission. Al-Ḥallāj surrenders in this final line and ends his poem with “You” alluding finally to God being the first and Only true existence. 

What the crucified lover of God attempted to achieve in his poetry and in these two poems in particular is that true love for the Beloved requires humility and sacrifice. In martyrdom only, in giving up our “I” to embody the One true “I” can one truly achieve spiritual completion. When the lover is martyred, he accepts death willingly despite the religious and political structures that stand in his way, because he knows that at the end of his path (death) lies union with the One.

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Works Cited:

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7. Serour, Taha Abdel-Baqi. Al-Husayn Ibn Mansur Al-Hallaj: Martyr of Islamic Mysticism (244–309 AH). Hindawi Foundation, 2014. [↩]
8. Forty Hadith Qudsi 25, 40 [↩]
9. Selim, Samah. “Manṣūr Al-Ḥallāj and the Poetry of Ecstasy.” Journal of Arabic Literature, vol. 21, no. 1, 1990, pp. 26–42. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/4183212. [↩] [↩]
10. Wilcox, Andrew. “The Dual Mystical Concepts of Fanā’ and Baqā’ in Early Sūfism.” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 38, no. 1, 2011, pp. 95–118. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/23077002. [↩]
11. Al-Suwaidawi, Nazem Hamad Khalaf. “Antithesis in Al-Hallaj’s Poetry.” Journal of Al-Anbar University for Language and Literature, vol. 33, 2021, pp. 190–214. [↩]
12. Ansari, M. Abdul Haq. “Ḥusayn Ibn Manṣūr Al-Ḥallāj: Ideas of an Ecstatic.” Islamic Studies, vol. 39, no. 2, 2000, pp. 291–320. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/23076104. [↩]
13. Ibn Taymiyyah. Jāmiʿ al-Rasāʾil (Collection of Epistles). Edited by Muḥammad Rashād Sālim, 1st ed., Dār al-ʿAṭāʾ, 2001. 2 vols. ابن تيمية. جامع الرسائل. تحقيق محمد رشاد سالم، ط. 1، دار العطاء، 2001، 2 ج. [↩]
14. Qur’an 2:115 [↩]
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16. Qur’am 20:98 [↩]
17. Qur’an 15:56 [↩]
18. Qur’an 39:53 [↩]