Transcribed, edited & represented for clarity by Haroon Ahmed. All insights and remarks are directly from Shaykh Amin Kholwadia‘s address to ‘ālimiyyah students in Michigan, USA.
Tashīl (Simplification) in the Study of ʿIlm
Question: What are your thoughts on the tashīl (simplified) approach to learningʿilm?
Shaykh Amin:
The current obsession with tashīl—making everything “easy” and “digestible”—is deeply problematic. When we were students, we used to compete with one another over who could read the most mughlaq (difficult, densely written) texts. We took pride in composing intricate ʿibārāt (phrases) and in our ability to comprehend and elucidate challenging works.
Today, however, the trend is toward oversimplification. This is not a curriculum—it is a compromise. You cannot design a program for those unwilling to commit to serious study and then be surprised when, upon graduation, they are unable to speak intelligently or engage with advanced texts. If the entire approach is about making ʿilm accessible to those unwilling to struggle, the inevitable result will be students lacking the capacity to engage with the depth and precision this tradition demands.
Take Kāfiyah, for example—a nahw (grammar) text by Ibn al-Ḥājib (d. 646/1249). It is mughlaq—encoded and multilayered by design. Its purpose is to challenge the student, compelling him to decipher its structure and logic. In doing so, the student attains higher levels of fahm (understanding), which is the true path to acquiring ʿilm.
If you lower the standards of uṣūl and foundational texts, you diminish the capacity for fahm—and with it, you lose ʿilm itself. The purpose is not to make students feel good in their struggle, nor to pity them. Compassion is not a valid reason to dilute the rigor of the tradition.
The legacy of this ʿilm has always demanded seriousness. Its difficulty is precisely what makes it meaningful. Today, however, we are turning it into something palatable for those unready or unwilling to exert effort. The result? Graduates unable to articulate even the basic positions of fiqh, uṣūl, or ʿaqīdah.
There is no such thing as a “tashīl of Hidāyah.” Such an approach defeats the very purpose of the text—a legal and intellectual framework that once served as the basis for governance under the Ottomans and Mughals. It is not meant to be simplified. Either read it or do not. But do not claim to have studied it while omitting the taʿlīl(legal reasoning), the qiyās (analogical deduction), the maqīs (case under consideration), and the maqīs ʿalayh (precedent case). These demand a trained legal mind—the level of engagement that this tradition requires.
If a student cannot keep up, he is simply not ready for madrasa. Let him mature before enrolling. The curriculum should not be restructured to accommodate unprepared minds.
Student Preparedness for Classical Texts
Question: Why do you think many students today struggle with classical texts?
Shaykh Amin:
One factor is age. In many South Asian madāris, students begin formal studies around the age of twelve. By fourteen or fifteen, they are expected to read al-Hidāyah—a legal manual intended for jurists and judges, not adolescents. Such works require substantial intellectual maturity and life experience to comprehend fiqh, qaḍāʾ, kalām, and ʿaqīdah at the depth they demand.
At Darul Qasim, no student under eighteen is admitted; completion of high school is a prerequisite for eligibility. The reason is that the knowledge of Qurʾān and Sunna is supra-rational—it transcends basic intellect—and to even begin to grasp it, the mind must be well-developed.
Consider the differing views on bulūgh (maturity) among the early jurists: the ṣāḥibayn—Abū Yūsuf and Muḥammad—place it at twelve or fifteen; for Abū Ḥanīfa, it is eighteen. In my estimation, Abū Ḥanīfa’s position is the most sound. Why, after all, is the voting age in this country eighteen rather than twelve? Because at twelve, one’s mind is not yet prepared for the weight of such responsibility.
Reading Tafsīr al-Jalālayn at fourteen or fifteen may yield correct recitation of the ʿibārah (text), but without comprehension. True understanding does not come merely from pronunciation—it requires maturity, life exposure, and intellectual depth.
On Drawing Parallels with Early Scholars
Question: But don’t we have examples of great scholars who mastered ʿilm at young ages—such as Imām al-Suyūṭī and others in the past?
Shaykh Amin:
That is true—but one cannot draw qiyās (analogy) from the ʿulamāʾ of the past to our own context. Scholars like Imām al-Suyūṭī lived within Islamic civilizations. Islam permeated their environment—it was in the air they breathed, in their society, government, culture, food, and language. It surrounded them entirely. Naturally, they advanced more rapidly.
Compare this with our present circumstances, particularly in the West. Your identity is shaped by your zarf (container) and you are the mazrūf (that which is contained). The zarf inevitably influences the mazrūf. Here in America, for example, a twelve-year-old may know everything about the NFL, NBA, or baseball because the culture is saturated with it—he lives and breathes it.
Unless an entire Islamic ecosystem is constructed—an environment akin to an isolated island where only Islam exists—one cannot expect fifteen-year-olds to emerge from a madrasa prepared to lead the Umma. Such expectations are unrealistic. The intellectual weight of this ʿilm demands that a student be at least eighteen, if not older.
The modern concept of fiqh al-muyassar (“simplified fiqh”) is, in my view, a bidʿah—not in the theological sense, but an academic bidʿah of the lowest order. It strips away the intellectual rigor necessary to cultivate legal minds. It is effectively an attempt to make ʿilm “fool-proof,” but the result is students who are functionally illiterate in the tradition. This breeds laziness in the Umma, promoting the path of least resistance rather than the path of ʿilm.
If a student cannot grasp a text like al-Hidāyah in its true depth, the solution is not to dilute the book but to allow the student to mature first. Let him study mathematics, history, and science. Let him complete high school. Let him experience life. Then he may return to the madrasa.
Maturity is not only intellectual—it is emotional, relational, and ethical. One may think he is ready to study advanced fiqh, yet be unable to navigate marriage. You expect obedience from your spouse? No—expect disobedience. Allah warns: “Indeed, among your spouses and your children are enemies to you, so be cautious of them”(Q 64:14).
Marriage, like knowledge, requires maturity. One must understand how Allah has created people. Without this maturity, a person will misread both human relationships and nuṣūṣ (texts).
If we aim to produce ʿulamāʾ capable of leading, thinking, and engaging at a global level, we must preserve the depth, precision, and intellectual legacy of the tradition. This requires patience until the student is ready. Do not rush. This path is a marathon, not a race to graduate by the age of twenty.
On the Perceived Value of Making Studies Easier
Question: Isn’t there value in making things easier for students?
Shaykh Amin:
Consider what happens if one were to dilute the training of physicians. Would we make medical school “easier” because some students find it difficult? Certainly not. If a candidate cannot pass the MCAT, Step 1, Step 2, and Step 3, he is not suited for medicine.
This is the standard upheld in the dunyā (worldly professions). Here, however, we speak of the dīn—the key to Jannah (Paradise), eternal happiness, and bliss. And yet, some would wish to water it down? That is nothing short of tragic.
If you desire entry into Jannah, you must work for it. There is no “easy way” to Jannah. The believer will be tested. The lives of the Prophet ﷺ and the Ṣaḥābah bear witness to this:
- ʿUmar was martyred in the masjid.
- ʿUthmān was martyred in his home while reciting the Qurʾān.
- ʿAlī was martyred on the battlefield.
- Abū Bakr, according to some reports, was poisoned.
All four Khulafāʾ al-Rāshidūn were martyred. Were they the happiest people in the world merely because they possessed Islam? No—they endured the greatest trials and tribulations. Allah ensured that even among the Ṣaḥābah there were disputes. Possession of knowledge does not equate to a life of ease.
Be prepared for trial, sacrifice (qurbānī), and hardship. This “Mickey Mouse theory” that Islamic academics should be easy is, in truth, a mockery of the tradition.
The Prophet ﷺ was asked:
“O Messenger of Allah! Which of the people is tried most severely?” He ﷺ said: “The Prophets, then those nearest to them, then those nearest to them. A man is tried according to his religion; if his religion is firm, his trials are more severe, and if his religion is frail, he is tried in proportion to the strength of his religion. The servant will continue to be tried until he walks upon the earth without any sin upon him.”(Tirmidhī, Zuhd, bāb mā jāʾa fī al-balāʾ; graded ḥasan ṣaḥīḥ)
Mawlānā Qāsim al-Nānawtawī and His Intellectual Legacy
Question: Who is Mawlānā Qāsim and what is our relationship with his legacy?
Shaykh Amin:
Mawlānā Qāsim al-Nānawtawī (d. 1297/1880) is the founder of Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband. The curriculum you follow today is his curriculum. Millions of students in madāris around the world stand under the banner of the manhaj of one man—Mawlānā Qāsim. That is no ordinary thing; he was a scholar of extraordinary intellectual capacity.
Mawlānā Qāsim used to tell his students: “I want you to study every single juzʾiyyah as if you will be called to represent it before a British officer.” That was the level of precision and mastery he expected.
Contrast that with our present state. Today, one may hear: “If someone asks you a question, just tell them to get lost.” Is that our response? The difference in approach is stark: a difference in depth, in himmah (resolve), and in scholarly engagement. The senior ʿulamāʾ of the past were immersed in seeking knowledge; they were not lazy.
This tashīl and muyassar approach breeds intellectual laziness. It does not demand sustained study; it does not challenge students with the most difficult questions; it does not ignite the intellect. If you shy away from difficult questions, it means you lack confidence in your knowledge. Do not avoid intellectual challenges.
If a university student asks you about Darwinism or any of the prevailing “isms,” you should be more intellectually equipped than he is. Do not tell him, “Don’t ask questions.” If you will not answer, he will ask someone else—perhaps an atheist, an agnostic, or worse. If you are not confident enough in your knowledge to respond, why claim to be an ʿālim? That is mere laziness.
We do not commend those who discourage inquiry. That is not our method.
Most people today cannot even read the writings of Mawlānā Qāsim—they are too difficult. I have taught his ʿAbay Ḥayāt, arguably his finest work. It is immensely challenging, not only in its intellectual content but even in the register of Urdu in which it is written—dense, elevated, and demanding to decipher. Yet now, some say: “Don’t read Mawlānā Qāsim’s books; they are too difficult.” My response: Why, then, are you an ʿālim?
If you aspire to be an athlete or a marathon runner—consider Michael Jordan. Did he say, “This game is too hard”? No—he played in the NBA Finals while suffering from a fever, delivering what is remembered as one of his greatest performances. That is himmah.
Where is ours?
On the Perceived Difficulty of Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah
Question: What about those who say certain classical texts are too hard—such asḤujjat Allāh al-Bālighah*?*
Shaykh Amin:
That is a defeatist mindset we must eliminate. Someone once came to me and said, “We can’t read Ḥujjat Allāh—it’s too difficult.” I replied, “But I teach it.” He insisted, “It’s too hard.”
I asked, “Who said that?”
He answered, “ʿUlamāʾ.”
I told him plainly, “They are not ʿulamāʾ if they say that—they are juhhāl.”
Consider: Shāh Walī Allāh (d. 1176/1762) was a human being, not a prophet. He authored Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah just before the arrival of the British in India. Why would he write a work that he did not intend to be understood? Of course he meant for it to be read and comprehended. To say “Don’t read it because it’s too hard” is not scholarship—it is foolishness and intellectual laziness.
Yes, Ḥujjat Allāh is difficult. But difficulty is not an excuse for abandonment. If the terminology is complex, then learn the terminology. Master the muṣṭalaḥāt of taṣawwuf, kalām, and manṭiq. Take two years if necessary—it is a takhaṣṣuṣ(specialization).
Imagine someone saying, “Becoming a doctor is too hard, so I won’t try.” Then do not become a doctor—but do not complain that medicine is hard while claiming you wish to practice it. That is hypocrisy and folly combined.
If you want to study Shāh Walī Allāh, you must be prepared to pay the price in effort. Learn the language he employs. Invest the time. Sacrifice. Persevere.
My own teacher, Mawlānā Saʿīd Aḥmad Pālanpūrī (d. 1441/2020), who taught me Mishkāt al-Maṣābīḥ, wrote a sharḥ on Ḥujjat Allāh in Urdu titled Raḥmat Allāh al-Wāsiʿah. In the introduction to that work, he addressed this very complaint. People would tell him the book was too hard, and he would respond: “Woh insān hī ne likhā hai—it was written by a human being.” If it is difficult, you must rise to the occasion. That is precisely what he did—he wrote a comprehensive commentary to help students do just that.
I personally teach three classes of Ḥujjat Allāh each week. It is challenging, but entirely doable. One simply has to exert effort—burn the midnight oil—just as one would in the pursuit of law, medicine, or engineering.
The real problem is this: many seek shortcuts in knowledge. But shortcuts are a betrayal of ʿilm. They undermine the spirit of learning and lead to shallow, fragile understanding. If you are serious about knowledge, take the hard road—it is the only road.
On the Perceived Difficulty of ʿIlm and Calls for Simplification
Question: What if ʿilm is too difficult? Shouldn’t we simplify it with approaches such as tashīl/muyassar?
Shaykh Amin:
If one is willing to endure years of rigorous training to become a lawyer, a doctor, or an engineer—burning the midnight oil, persevering under pressure—why not apply the same dedication to ʿilm?
In the United States, for example, to practice law in Michigan requires seven years of thorough study after high school. Doctors and lawyers invest countless hours in study, often sacrificing sleep, simply to achieve worldly success in the dunyā.
Yet, among some of our ʿulamāʾ, there is a culture of entitlement: ḥalwā for breakfast, biryānī for lunch, and a khādim to massage one’s feet after “toiling” all day doing little. That is not ʿilm—that is jahl (ignorance).
Within our communities, there are those who wish to complete an ʿālim program in two or four years. This is unrealistic. If someone says, “I don’t have time to be anʿālim, but I want to be one,” my answer is: pursue another path. Do not waste our time. We should not prioritize numbers (quantity) over producing individuals capable of representing Islam with depth and clarity (quality).
Yes, al-Hidāyah is challenging. But if you do not study it as it was meant to be studied, you will never become a true Ḥanafī scholar. At Darul Qasim, we reserve the final volume of al-Hidāyah for the Iftāʾ program—not because it is easy, but because it is essential. Without thoroughly completing al-Hidāyah, you cannot be a Muftī. That is our standard.
These new “simplified” approaches are inauthentic. They are like a counterfeit biryānī—no meat, no rice, just a picture. That is muyassar, not ʿilm. I am entirely opposed to it.
We aim for high standards in knowledge and deep fahm (understanding). This is not impossible. I am not seeking to discourage; I am saying: put in the work. Ask questions, and then ask again. Struggle, persist, even if it feels like butting your head against the wall—but do not give up.
To become a scholar, you must sweat, exert yourself, burn the midnight oil—whatever it takes. Avoid shortcuts; shortcuts in knowledge are a disservice to the very tradition you seek to uphold.
On True Mujāhadah (Struggle) in Seeking ʿIlm
Question: What does true mujāhadah (Struggle) in seeking ʿilm look like?
Shaykh Amin:
Consider the example of Mawlānā Mamlook ʿAlī, teacher of both Mawlānā Qāsim al-Nānawtawī and Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī, and also of Sir Sayyid Aḥmad Khān. When he began his studies at the madrasah of Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, he could not memorize anything—not ṣarf, not naḥw. After three months of struggle, he was ready to quit. He went to Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz and said, “I want to go home. I can’t do this.”Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz enquired “Do you really want to go home?” He said: “No, I don’t want to give up but I am also not able to memorize or understand anything.”
Shāh ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz perceived potential in him. He placed his own ṭopī on Mawlānā Mamlook ʿAlī’s head for a few moments, then instructed him to return to his studies. From that day onward, understanding opened for him—maʿānī, grammar, concepts—all became clear. He rose to become Mawlānā Mamlook ʿAlī, the great ustādh.
Why? Because he possessed himmah (aspiration) and ikhlāṣ (sincerity). If you want tawfīq (divinely granted success), you must be prepared to receive it. Without readiness, you will be deprived (maḥrūm). But if you are sincere, Allah will open the doors for you. That is fatḥ (divine opening).
It will be difficult—but do not give up. Your niyyah (intention) should be to reach the summit of the mountain, even if the ascent is hard. As Allah says: “Laysa lil-insāni illā mā saʿā”—“Man shall have nothing but what he strives for” (Q 53:39). This saʿy(striving) is like the saʿy of Hājar between Ṣafā and Marwah: no husband, no water, a crying infant—yet she ran. That was true struggle, and in return Allah caused Zamzam to flow.
So if a book is difficult, read it anyway. Ask your teachers. Learn the tools. Just as in medicine or law one must first study the language of the field before mastering it, ʿilmrequires the same.
Do not expect to begin with Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī. Many want to leap straight to it without first studying naḥw, ṣarf, uṣūl al-ḥadīth, and ʿaqīdah. This is folly. Why is Bukhārī the last book in the curriculum? Because by then you have acquired the tools to understand it.
Yes, some say Dars-i Niẓāmī is hard. But why was it not hard for the Mughals? Why not for the Ottomans? Why is it hard now, in the 21st century—the so-called peak of human intelligence? If you cannot even read Kāfiyah, the problem is not with the curriculum—it is with you. So climb out of the ditch. Stop making excuses. Hard is fine; hard is the only way.
Do you think waḥy (revelation) is for simpletons? No—it is for the most intelligent of humanity. Waḥy is light from Allah, elevating the human mind far beyond what twenty years of secular study can achieve.
If you are studying Qāla Allāh and Qāla Rasūl, be proud. You are engaging with the most powerful source of knowledge in existence. Do not belittle it. Do not run from it. People are awed by a PhD—but be proud that you are reading Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah, al-Hidāyah, and Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī. This is the true legacy of ʿilm. But you must give it a chance, and you must exert effort—only then will you taste its sweetness.
There is a story of a young researcher in atomic physics who came to Mawlānā Ilyās (d. 1363/1944) in the 1940s and said, “Can I spend a few days with you so you can teach me Islam?” Mawlānā Ilyās asked, “What do you do?” The young man replied, “I’ve been studying atomic physics for twenty years.”
Mawlānā Ilyās responded: “So you want me to teach you Islam in twenty minutes?”The man admitted he had not thought it through. Mawlānā Ilyās then instructed him: “Give up your atomic physics and sit with me—twenty years. I will show you what Islam is.” The young man accepted, and in time he became a distinguished ʿālim.
On the Superiority of ʿIlm al-Waḥy Over Worldly Knowledge
Question: How should students of knowledge view their own scholarship compared to the achievements of people in the dunyā*? What does it mean to have knowledge of waḥy (revelation) in the age of secular success and material accolades?
Shaykh Amin:
The people of the dunyā may hold doctorates, earn millions, and invent technologies—but you possess the knowledge of waḥy (revelation). Waḥy is infinitely superior to any worldly science. It is more profound, more intelligent, and more valuable than any accolade or discovery of this world.
Do not compare yourself to them. There is nothing to compare. In truth, you stand at the summit of the mountain—if only you realized it. The problem is that many do not want to realize it. They measure themselves by the standards of the dunyā, but that is not the measure for the seeker of ʿilm.
Your standard is the standard of the Messenger ﷺ. The Messenger ﷺ is more intelligent than any person of the dunyā, possessing light and knowledge beyond all human measure. Be proud that you engage with ʿilm al-waḥy—the truest and highest form of knowledge.
A single juristic ruling (maṣlaḥah) that benefits the Ākhirah outweighs a million gains of this world. Mastering even one detail of ṣalāh, zakāh, ḥajj, or ṣawm brings more barakah and lasting benefit than all the gold, titles, and honors the world can offer.
Do not delude yourself by saying, “We are not influenced by the superpower—we are not American.” Of course you are. You live in America, immersed in its culture, captivated by its conveniences. We use its gadgets and smartphones; we consume its products. Living in a superpower shapes you, instilling a sense of dominance and glory—it comes with the territory.
Even if you become a walī, you are still affected by your surroundings. This is human nature. Therefore, we must consciously step out of the mindset where success is measured by secular or material values. In the madrasah, you must vacate those values and replace them with Islamic civilizational values.
Yet as long as you reside in a superpower, you will be influenced by it. The dominant values here—secularism, materialism, consumerism, American exceptionalism, and smartphone culture—will shape your outlook. Do not think, “Because I am a student in a madrasah, I am immune.” You are submerged in it.
When you leave and get married, these values will persist. And if you resist them, your spouse may ensure they enter your life—that is simply reality. You are not immune from the dunyā. Learn to manage it, as the Prophet ﷺ did—with ṣabr(patience), ḥilm (forbearance), and akhlāq (noble character).
True ʿilm is not beneficial without ḥilm. And who will teach you ḥilm? Not your Shaykh—your spouse will, life will. That is reality!
If you have life experience, you will understand fiqh. Without it, you will neither grasp its application nor its execution.
On Real-World Knowledge, Leadership, and the Significance of Advanced Ḥanafī Texts
Question: What does real-world knowledge and leadership require from a scholar, and what is the significance of studying advanced texts in the Ḥanafī tradition?
Shaykh Amin:
In fiqh, you encounter Bāb al-Qaḍāʾ—the chapter on judging. It deals with resolving disputes. Yet some entertain an overly idealistic notion: “Muslims are brothers; we’re not supposed to fight.” The reality is that as a qāḍī, you will face constant disputes in court—accusations (ilzām), slander (buhtān), and, at times, cases involving murder or fraud. A qāḍī witnesses the full spectrum of human conflict.
The qāḍī stands a hundred times higher than the muftī. In the taxonomy of knowledge, the qāḍī possesses the most authority; his verdict is enforceable. The muftī’s opinion, by contrast, is advisory—one may seek a fatwā, but there is no obligation to follow it.
In America, we have “muftis” of all kinds—politicians, businessmen, doctors, engineers—each offering their own opinions. That is the reality. If you choose to remain in an ivory tower, you must still understand how the world operates. In resolving disputes, you must be judicious, discerning the psyche of each party—the claimant and the defendant. You must understand human behavior. Managing the world requires more than citing rulings about ḥalāl and ḥarām in trivial matters; it demands engagement with real-world complexities.
Consider Abū Ḥanīfa’s foremost student, Qāḍī Abū Yūsuf (d. 182/798), chief advisor to Hārūn al-Rashīd and a central figure in the Abbasid Khilāfah. As a Ḥanafī, he managed affairs of state on a global scale. His intellectual training equipped him to govern half the known world. That is the caliber of scholarship Abū Ḥanīfa produced—people relevant to the dunyā and conscious of the superiority of Islamic civilization.
Your knowledge must reach such a level before claiming to “follow Abū Ḥanīfa.” Most today know only a few rulings about divorce, ṣalāh, or wuḍūʾ, without grasping the broader workings of the dunyā. This is why you must study volumes 3 and 4 of al-Hidāyah—to learn how to engage with the real world.
Do not be discouraged—pursue knowledge fully. Abū Yūsuf1 said:
العلم إذا اعطيته كلك أعطاك بعضه، وإذا أعطيته بعضك لم يعطك شيئاً
“Knowledge, if you give it your all, will give you some of itself; but if you give it only part of yourself, it will give you nothing.”
You must expend all you have for ʿilm; only then will it yield a portion of itself. Abū Yūsuf, the first supreme justice in world history, wrote treatises for Hārūn al-Rashīd on taxation (Kitāb al-Amwāl), revenue collection and distribution (Kitāb al-Kharāj), and the rights of prisoners. If you wish to be a Ḥanafī scholar, emulate Abū Yūsuf—be relevant to the world, a master of law and governance. Do not confine yourself to issuing fatāwā on minor matters. Study al-Hidāyah in its entirety, including Kitāb al-Qaḍāʾ, Kitāb al-Jihād, and more.
We do not want our scholars to be passive. We want them to engage universities, Congress, and the Senate—offering intelligent, informed Islamic positions on issues such as immigration, taxation, and abortion. This requires mastery of Māturīdī kalām, which explains tawḥīd through ʿaql (reason). Without it, you will be lost in dār al-kufr.
Recognize that you live in a superpower; your knowledge of Islam must be on par with the intellectual standards of a superpower. Mawlānā Qāsim al-Nānawtawī understood this: he trained his students to explain every masʾalah as though presenting it to the superpower of his time—the British.
Shaykh al-Hind’s student, Mawlānā ʿUbayd Allāh Sindhī, debated Joseph Stalin, founder of Soviet communism, and presented Islam’s economic theory in such a way that Stalin acknowledged its superiority. This is the level we need.
If you wish to be a true Ḥanafī scholar, aim to influence not just a small circle but the wider world. In America, your vision should encompass making Islam accessible to the entire country. That was the mindset of the ʿulamāʾ of the past.
And never stop. Completion of the dawra or iftāʾ is not the end. Keep learning, engaging, and seeking. The spirit you need is himmah (resolve), ikhlāṣ (sincerity), duʿāʾ, and the blessings of your teachers. If you stop, you stagnate; if you keep moving, you remain alive. Water that stagnates becomes impure (najis); keep your knowledge flowing through study, discussion, and collaboration.
As Allah commands:
وَقُل رَّبِّ زِدْنِي عِلْمًا
“And say: ‘My Lord, increase me in knowledge.’” (Q 20:114)
If you settle for Islam for Dummies or fiqh muyassar, you will stagnate and fail to represent Islam in the mainstream. Your goal should be to present Islam to the entire country, not just your local community. Think expansively:
…عَرْضُهَا السَّمَاوَاتُ وَالْأَرْضُ
“Its breadth is as the heavens and the earth…” (Q 3:133)
That is how vast your vision should be. Abū Yūsuf and Imām Muḥammad wrote on international relations, treaties, and agreements—demonstrating how Muslims think on a global scale:
…إِنَّ الْأَرْضَ لِلَّهِ
“Indeed, the earth belongs to Allah…” (Q 7:128)
This was their guiding principle. Muslims are meant to lead. Expand your thinking. Make Islam accessible to all, but do so with taqwā, sincerity, ṣalāh, dhikr, and the duʿās of your teachers. And never stop moving forward.
On the Logic of the Dars al-Niẓāmī Curriculum and the Role of Tafsīr al-Jalālayn
Question: Could you summarize the logic behind the books chosen for the Dars al-Niẓāmī curriculum—particularly why we study Jalālayn, and the structure behind it all?
Shaykh Amin:
There are many possible ways to study, but the Dars al-Niẓāmī is unique. It is a carefully constructed curriculum, planned by exceptional scholars who were part of a functioning Khilāfah. The quality of thought produced in the context of a Khilāfah is a hundred times superior to what you find in dār al-kufr. You must trust their judgment.
These scholars deliberately selected specific works to ensure that graduates would become ʿulamāʾ endowed with baṣīrah (insight) and nūr (illumination). They had surveyed the entirety of Muslim history and chosen those texts that would instill civilizational values in the Muslim ʿālim, enabling him to serve as an asset to the Khilāfah.
In the Ottoman and Mughal periods, every ʿālim was an agent or asset of the Khilāfah—effectively an employee of the state—working to maintain its governance. I have addressed this in detail in my paper Who is an ʿĀlim?, available on the Darul Qasim website. It is essential reading to understand the standard to which you should aspire.
Today, our output often falls short of that standard. Teaching alif-bāʾ or basic Islamic studies is noble and sufficient for personal salvation—may Allah grant nūr and ajr for such service. But the goal of the ʿālim is to serve the Khilāfah, as the Khulafāʾ al-Rāshidūn did. That requires preparing oneself to work at the level of the state.
The architects of the Dars al-Niẓāmī understood that every ʿālim must comprehend waḥy (revelation)—both waḥy matlū (recited revelation, the Qurʾān) and waḥy ghayr matlū (unrecited revelation, the Sunnah).
For waḥy matlū, they asked: “What is the best single work to study that remains accessible while preparing students for deeper research?” They chose Tafsīr al-Jalālayn. This tafsīr equips you with the tools needed to research the great mutawwalāt (comprehensive tafsīrs), such as al-Bayḍāwī, al-Rāzī, and al-Ālūsī.
To work in those major tafsīrs, you must already possess ṣarf, naḥw, balāghah, bayān, ʿaqīdah, and qirāʾāt—and Jalālayn contains all these elements if studied properly. This means covering the entire work, not just the first ten ajzāʾ and then abandoning it due to “time constraints.” Every āyah must be studied thoroughly, asking: “What question is the author answering here, and what skill is he developing in me by explaining the āyah in this way?”
When studied in this manner, Jalālayn provides a true grasp of waḥy matlū. And you do not stop there—after Jalālayn, you move on to al-Bayḍāwī, al-Rāzī, al-Nasafī, and others. Historically, they read them all, but Jalālayn was the foundation.
The Ottomans were Ḥanafīs; the Mughals were ardent Ḥanafīs. Yet they did not hesitate to study a tafsīr authored by Shāfiʿīs. Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī was a Shāfiʿī inclined toward Abū Ḥanīfah, while his co-author, Jalāl al-Dīn al-Maḥallī, was a staunch Shāfiʿī. Nonetheless, their work was placed into a Ḥanafī curriculum. Why? Because it was relevant and beneficial to the Ḥanafī scholarly mind.
This reflects the breadth of Ḥanafī wisdom. They were neither narrow-minded nor sectarian, but professional and pragmatic, recognizing qabūl (acceptance) from Allah in the utility of the work.
Thus, if you want to understand waḥy matlū, you must study Tafsīr al-Jalālayn—thoroughly, every āyah, from cover to cover.
On the Dars al-Niẓāmī Approach to Ḥadīth and the Role of Mishkāt al-Maṣābīḥ
Question: How did the Dars al-Niẓāmī curriculum approach the study of ḥadīth, and what is the wisdom behind focusing on Mishkāt al-Maṣābīḥ*?*
Shaykh Amin:
For waḥy ghayr matlū—that is, revelation not recited in prayer, meaning the aḥādīth—the question was: “How do we understand and manage the expansiveness of this corpus?” There are thousands upon thousands of aḥādīth. How do you organize them and incorporate them into a curriculum for the aspiring ʿālim?
The scholars selected Mishkāt al-Maṣābīḥ—a work compiled by a Shāfiʿī scholar. The Ḥanafīs could have dismissed it on sectarian grounds, but they did not. They recognized that knowledge is neither Ḥanafī nor Shāfiʿī—knowledge is knowledge.
Why Mishkāt? It is a profoundly strategic choice. Mishkāt provides an academically structured understanding of ḥadīth, and more importantly, ḥadīth and the Sunnah are the primary sources of Muslim civilizational values. If you examine the abwāb(chapters) of Mishkāt, each represents a value that shapes the Muslim worldview: Kitāb al-Īmān (Faith), Kitāb al-Riqāq (Softening the Hearts), Kitāb al-Aṭʿimah(Foods), Kitāb al-Dawāʾ (Medicine), Kitāb al-Libās (Clothing)—each is a window into the formation of Islamic civilization.
In Mishkāt, each bāb compiles aḥādīth in three tiers—faṣl al-awwal, faṣl al-thānī, faṣl al-thālith—demonstrating the breadth, pillars, and supporting evidences for each value, drawing from the major collections. Thus, you are not memorizing random aḥādīth, but studying them as part of a coherent civilizational system.
For example, to understand the philosophy of ṣadaqah (charity) in Islam, study the bāb on ṣadaqah in Mishkāt. You will immediately see the core principles, supported by aḥādīth from diverse sources.
The selection of Mishkāt was not random. The ummah had already done the intellectual work; there was no need to reinvent the wheel with speculative “modern” frameworks. By studying Mishkāt’s abwāb, you can then deepen your research through the shurūḥ (commentaries) of al-Bukhārī, Muslim, al-Nasāʾī, and others.
Shāh Walī Allāh (d. 1176/1762) recognized this structure and arranged the second volume of Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah according to the abwāb of Mishkāt. For a deeper study, read the second volume of Ḥujjat Allāh after Mishkāt; there, he explores the asrār (inner purposes) behind each chapter. This approach parallels works such as:
- Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn by al-Ghazālī – uncovering the spiritual dimensions of worship and conduct.
- al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya by Ibn ʿArabī – containing an entire volume on the asrār al-fiqh.
- al-Mīzān al-Kubrā by ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Shaʿrānī – organizing all abwāb al-fiqh in harmony with the maqāṣid.
- Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah by Shāh Walī Allāh – explicating the higher objectives of each chapter in Mishkāt.
These four works together form a master’s curriculum in the asrār al-fiqh (inner purposes of jurisprudence).
The brilliance of the Dars al-Niẓāmī lies in this integration. Some today dismissively say, “Who wants to read 10,000 aḥādīth in Mishkāt?” But if you do, you will master the civilizational core of Islam: its principles, its defense, and its direct connection to the Qurʾān and Sunnah.
On Understanding the Philosophy of the Dars-i-Niẓāmī and the Role of the ʿĀlim
Question: You spoke about the philosophy behind the Dars-i-Niẓāmī curriculum and its purpose. What are some resources or references we can use to understand this methodology better, and what it means to truly be an ʿālim?
Shaykh Amin:
Read my paper, Who is an ʿĀlim?—available on the Darul Qasim website. It will give you an initial framework. But remember: the Dars-i-Niẓāmī was deliberately designed to produce citizens capable of governing and upholding the Khilāfah. Every curriculum in the world is shaped by a philosophy and a purpose. Just as the American high school curriculum is built to produce functional citizens of the state, the Dars-i-Niẓāmī was developed by national thinkers to serve the needs of the Ummah and the Khilāfah.
If you wish to understand Abū Ḥanīfa’s fiqh, you must first understand how the Khulafāʾ al-Rāshidūn governed. His entire legal framework is grounded in the mechanics of leadership and statecraft, not merely in personal acts of worship. For instance, according to Abū Ḥanīfa, there is no Jumuʿah without a Khilāfah. What does that tell you? That every aspect of his fiqh is structured around governance, law, and the service of a higher authority.
Shāh Walī Allāh stated that Ḥanafi fiqh is the most invaluable asset a khalīfah can possess—it is designed for administration and societal management, not merely for ʿibādah. In essence, Ḥanafi fiqh is constructed for the governance of an entire society.
On Addressing Gaps in One’s Islamic Knowledge
Question: What is your advice for students and graduates who feel they have gaps in their Islamic studies or have not covered some core books?
Shaykh Amin:
There is no harm in returning to study those books, even after so-called “graduation.” In truth, there is no such thing as graduation in the pursuit of ʿilm. One should continually revisit, revise, and complete what is missing. If your knowledge is to be well-rounded, it must be free of significant gaps. If you notice a deficiency, be honest with yourself, address it, and know that it is entirely manageable.
In the United States, adult education is part of the culture. Community colleges are filled with individuals who never finished high school, yet return in their forties or fifties to earn a diploma. Muslims need to adopt the same spirit. Do not feel shy about revisiting material. If you have completed an ʿālimiyyah program but missed certain texts, go back and study them.
We see this at Darul Qasim regularly. Students—including graduates from abroad—return to address gaps. Recently, a sister from Australia came intending to specialize in tafsīr. Upon review, we found areas where her preparation was incomplete. She accepted this, and committed to spending a year filling those gaps before proceeding.
If you humbly accept the need for further study, you will progress much further, in shāʾ Allāh.
Closing Words and Duʿāʾ
May Allāh grant us barakah in our time and efforts, grant us tawfīq in our studies and service, and accept our intentions purely for His sake. May He fulfill our noble hopes, overlook our shortcomings, forgive our sins, and admit us into Jannah without reckoning.
Jazākum Allāhu khayran for your presence, attentiveness, and commitment.
Editor’s Note:
This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and flow, while preserving the substance, style, and intent of Shaykh Amin’s words. Qurʾānic verses and ḥadīth have been maintained in their original language where possible, with minimal transliteration for accessibility.
Some statements have been condensed for readability without altering their meaning.
- Ḥāfiẓ al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī (raḥimahu Allāh) has recorded this as the statement of Imām Abū Yūsuf (raḥimahu Allāh). It has also been transmitted as the saying of other scholars who came after him.
(Al-Jāmiʿ li-Akhlāq al-Rāwī wa-Ādāb al-Sāmiʿ, vol. 2, p. 174; also see Maʿālimu Irshādiyyah of Shaykh Muḥammad ʿAwwāmah, pp. 142–143). ↩︎
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