Syriac Source-Material For Islam’s Holy Book

POSTSCRIPT:

As I hope to have shown, the formation of the Mohammedan creed was the result of gradual memetic accretion; as the folklore of neighboring communities tends to inter-penetrate one another. That was followed by memetic calcification.  This meandering process lasted many generations. After the early formative period, sporadic bouts of confabulation persisted.

This process of memetic cross-pollination often goes un-acknowledged; as recognizing it entails conceding that one’s culture is derivative…and thus an accident of history.  The fact remains, though, that memes are adopted that seem–at the time–to buoy the fitness of the consecrated memeplex.  Meanwhile, other memes are rejected when–at the time–they threaten the structural integrity of the dogmatic edifice.

To recapitulate: Islamic lore exhibits a plethora of signature traits of preceding Syriac texts.  Questions arise.  How?  Why?  Are we to suppose that this is some uncanny coincidence?  Of course, Islamic apologists earnestly hope everyone will simply ignore the fact that both the Koran and Hadith are festooned with a plethora of thematic coinkydinks that were unique to Syriac sources.  For they realize that acknowledging this would entail conceding the derivative nature of their creed.  Far from a verbatim transcript from the Creator of the Universe, Mohammedan theology is a bespoke concatenation of rehashed Syriac lore that proliferated in the Middle East at the time.

We might consider, again, the environs in which the authors of the Koran would have lived.  In Yathrib, there were three major Jewish tribes (the Banu Kuraydha, Banu Nadhir, and Banu Kaynuka), each of which would have spoken Syriac.  Other Jewish settlements in the vicinity could be found at Khaybar and on the Gulf of Akaba (at the site of the ancient city of Elat[h], known as “Aila” to the Romans). {A}  All of them would have been circulating the sort of Abrahamic lore with which MoM and his contemporaries would have been familiar.  Notably, this did NOT include the Book of Revelation, which was never accepted by the Syriac Church.  It should therefore come as little surprise that THAT book’s zany prognostications do not play a role in Mohammedan eschatology.

This is quite telling; as this material—so prominent in Nicene Christianity—is absent even though there turned out to be an OBSESSION with Judgement Day in the “Recitations”.  If one were looking for cosmic mayhem, the Book of Revelation would have been the first place to look.  This is especially striking when we consider that Jesus Christ ALSO makes a re-appearance in Islam’s apocalyptic set-piece—further incentive to riff off of the anti-Roman author, John of Patmos.

Meanwhile, the perception of JoN as merely a prophet (i.e. a mortal man; a position known as “adoptionism”) would have been well-established in Arab circles.  Notably, Paul of Samosata, who served as bishop of Antioch in the 3rd century, had preached a form of adoptionism known as “monarchianism”—which would later inspire Arianism.  As it so happened, Paul maintained a close relationship with the Arab queen of Palmyra, Bat-Zabbai (a.k.a. “Zenobia”), who would have spoken a dialect of Syriac.  And, as it also happened, the catechetical school at Antioch was a hub for Nestorianism (the branch of Syriac Christianity best known for adoptionism).  MoM and his contemporaries would have been well-acquainted with the (Syriac) arguments for the adoptionist view of JoN…which would become the MOHAMMEDAN view of JoN.  Koran 4:171 could have just as well been written by an Arian or Nestorian.  (For more on the relation between the Nazarenes and early Islam, see Joachim  Gnilka’s “Die Nazarener Und Der Koran: Eine Spurensuche”.)

Another point worth considering.  Had the material really been “sent down” from heaven (as the Koran insists it was), there would certainly have been something in it that wasn’t already circulating amongst the people of the region–something novel and erudite (that is: something could not be explained by what was already available by the 7th century).  Or there would have been some tid-bit of insight that could not possibly have been known by mere mortals at the time.

No such tid-bit exists.

Verses 4-6 in Surah 25 and verse 15 of Surah 68 give the game away–as they openly admit that contemporaneous skeptics pointed out that people were already familiar with what was being propounded.  (They considered the “Recitations” a re-hashing of “the tales of our forefathers”.)  In other words: “None of this is anything new; we’ve heard all of it before.”  How, then, are we to suppose MoM got these ideas?  The Koran actually tells us in verses 103-105 of Surah 16.  It was not a revelation from god; it was regurgitated folklore.

And so it went.  Judaic material would have been gleaned from the Jews of:

• Nabataea (the Kalb, Salih, and al-Qayn tribes)
• Yathrib-cum-Medina (the Alfageer, Shutayba, Qurayza, Qaynuqa, and Nadir tribes)
• The Tayma oasis (the Awf tribe)
• Ta’if (the al-Harith tribe)
• Himyar (esp. at Najran)

Meanwhile, Christian material would have been gleaned from Nestorians throughout the region.

As discussed, the cribbing was extensive.  Other examples exist that were not adumbrated in the preceding essay.  For, example, the account of Miriam (mother of JoN) having been raised in the temple–and being nurtured by angels–comes from the (Syriac) Infancy Gospel of James (the “Prot-Evangelion of James” in its Koine Greek version; rendered “Proto-Evangelium of James” in Latin).  Then there’s the account of a cow leaping from a fire (ref. Surah 7).  That was lifted from from the aforementioned “Pirke” of Rabbi Eliezer.

It was almost entirely Syriac sources—Jewish and Christian—from which Arabs derived their knowledge of Abrahamic lore, as that was the language they understood.  Tales about Abraham would have primarily come from the Midrash Rabba, which was circulated exclusively in Syriac.  Note, for example that Abraham’s father was named “Terah” in standard lore; yet is referred to as “Azar” in the Koran—a corruption of the moniker used by Syriac-speaking Jews: “Zara”. {B}

Tellingly, Cain and Abel were not known by name, but simply as the “two sons of Adam” in the Koran.  (Are we to suppose that the Abrahamic deity forgot their names?)  In later Islamic lore, they would be designated as “Qabil” and “Habil”.  In the Islamic version, BOTH brothers offered sacrifices (rather than one, an animal; the other, fruits from his garden).  The rejection of one brother was based on his lack of piety, not on his choice of offering.

We might also recall the matter of the Agagite [Amalekite] villain, Haman.  In 28:38, the Egyptian Pharaoh conspires with this nefarious character from the book of Esther.  The problem is that Haman was actually a Persian vizier who lived almost 8 centuries later (in the 5th century B.C.)  How might such a massive chronological blunder have occurred?  Denizens of the Middle East would have heard that both characters had plotted against the Israelites.  The Koran’s authors likely concluded that the two iconic malefactors must have known each other.  A similar mistake (in 20:95) put the “Samari” (Samaritans) as contemporaries of Moses—casting them as errant Israelites guilty of “shirk”.  Such temporal discrepancies indicate that, amongst the Bedouin, a few things were conflated.  To be fair, this is something to be expected over the course of several generations of oral transmission.

As it turns out, many of the claims encountered in Islamic lore simply reflect Arabian superstitions of the era.  Note some of the more fantastical tales that made their way into the “sahih” Hadith collections:

• Tales of 30-meter-tall prehistoric men.  This was likely taken from chapter 7 of the Book of Enoch, which describes the giant “Nephilim” as being 3,000 “ells” in height.
• Tales of a rock stealing Moses’ clothes (while he was swimming) and then fleeing (with a naked Moses in pursuit).  Lord knows where this came from.
• Claims of a fly carrying the cure for a disease on one wing while carrying the disease itself on the other wing.  This was likely an extant Arabian superstition.

Thus the Mohammedan movement appropriated much of what was already circulating in the Hijaz at the time.

And so it went that Islamic lore became increasingly embellished over the ages, whereby certain apocrypha materialized…and eventually became reified as bona fide “history”.  When it comes to folklore, this process is standard–as embellishment has a ratcheting effect: once it catches on, it’s difficult to un-do (just as it is difficult to un-do deletions).

We might note a few more examples of this–as it pertains to folk-heroes:

ONE:  The Persian legend of “Amir” Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib (a.k.a. the “Lion of Paradise”) who is purported to have been MoM’s (long-lost) uncle.  Tales of his exploits can be found in the “Hamza-nama” [Epic of Hamza] as well as in the “Dastan-i Amir Hamza” [Adventures of Amir Hamza].  Both works came out of the Persian story-telling tradition commonly referred to as “dastan”.

TWO:  In the Koran itself, we hear tales of an Arabian prophet named “Saleh” of Thamud / A[a]d (Hijaz).  The character seems to have been co-opted–nay, re-purposed–into Mohammedan lore from antecedent Arabian lore. 

THREE:  The “Taghribat Bani Hilal” [a.k.a. “Sirat Abu Zeid al-Hilali”] has played a prominent role in Maghrebi folklore.  It tells of a Fatimid caliph sending the (Arab) Banu Hilal to Tunisia in order to put down the Zirid [alt. “Zenata”; i.e. Sanhaja Berber] rebellion in the 11th century.  For centuries, this tale was orally-transmitted.  The degree to which it is historically accurate is anyone’s guess.

FOUR:  Shiites tell tales about their patriarchs (the heirs of Ali ibn Abi Talib): imams Husayn, then Ali “Zayn al-Abi-Din” [Adornment of the Worshippers; though “abi-din” literally means “fathers of the creed”], then Muhammad “al-Baqir” [revealer of knowledge], and then Jafar “al-Sadiq” [the Truthful].  The vast majority of the Ummah–being, as they are, Sunni–downplay (or even outright deny) the salience of such figures.

FIVE:  The Shiite Persian mystic, Shams ad-Din Mohammad of Tabriz (a.k.a. “Shams-i Tabrizi”; variously described as Sufi or Isma’ili) is said to have been the mentor of Jalal ad-Din Rumi during their time in Konya.  He is best known for his “Maqalat” [Discourse].  (Shams-i Tabrizi was himself said to have been a disciple of a figure named “Baba Kamal al-Din Jumdi”.)  The purported existence of this figure is often downplayed by mainstream Muslims, though; as one of his beliefs was that his own tongue (Middle Persian) was so marvelous that the meanings and elegance found in that language could not be found in CA.  This is a claim that does not sit well with CA-fetishists.

SIX: The legend of “Al-Khidr” is about a mystic who is never explicitly named in the Koran…yet who has cropped up in myriad Islamic folktales.  The tale of Moses and Al-Khidr in Surah 18 (verses 65 to 82) exhibits influences from antecedent narratives, whereby a prominent figure is taught lessons from an old mystic, who takes him under his wing.  He most famously features in Muhammad ibn Jarir al-Tabari’s “The History”.  Al-Khidr is also mentioned by name in the “Kitab al-Zuhd” [“Book of Abstinence”] by the 9th-century Abbasid expositor, Ahmad ibn Hanbal al-Thuhli of Baghdad.  (He appears in both Bukhari’s and Bayhaqi’s writings as well.) The moniker is a variation on the Arabic term for “the Green One” (“Al-Akhdar”).  That might explain why that particular color has often been accorded a prominent role in Islam.

This figure is likely a take-off on the Canaanite (Ugaritic) mystic, Kothar-wa-Khasis of Memphis–legends of whom date back to the late 3rd millennium B.C.  We know that the Ugaritic tale likely proliferated in the region; as it is referenced on Sumerian tablets from Ebla, Syria.

A similar story was promulgated by the itinerant monk, John Moschus of Damascus, a contemporary of MoM who wrote at Mar Saba (a Syriac monastery overlooking the Kedron Valley) and at the nearby Mar Dosi (the monastery of Theodosius; later rendered “Deir Ibn Ubeid” in Arabic).  It is mentioned in his “Leimon Pneumatikos” [“Spiritual Meadow”, rendered “Pratum Spirituale” in Latin].

The (Syriac-speaking) Nabataeans were likely familiar with this figure.

SEVEN: Tales about Salman al-Farsi [Salman the Persian] in Islamic lore emerged during the Middle Ages.  Salman was purportedly one of the Sahabah.  He eventually came to be governor of the Mesopotamian city of Al-Mada’in.  The credence of his historicity is anyone’s guess.  But, hey, it was surely fun to talk about; so the tale eventually caught on.

With all these additions to the lore, it is easy to see how there were also deletions.  (Where there is self-serving commission, there is likely also self-serving omission.)  One of those deletions is the Syriac origin of Islamic lore.

Thus we are forced to contend with both embellishment and obfuscation when trying to ascertain the origin of certain Islamic memes, neither of which announce themselves as such in the resulting material (i.e. the material that we now have to work with).  Indeed, the standard Islamic narrative ABOUT ITSELF is incontrovertible…according to itself.

It is worth reiterating: There was nothing especially, well, special about the motifs found in Mohammedan lore.  Even the practice of referring to the godhead as “the Merciful” was unoriginal.  As it turns out, it was the name of one of the deities in (pre-Islamic) Yemen: “Ra[c]hman[an]”.  The moniker was also used in ancient Turkic theology: the creator-god was referred to as “Kayra” (“Merciful”; not to be confused with “Kara”, which meant “black”).  It is not startling to find that people like to fancy their own godhead as merciful—even if the godhead turns out to be somewhat schizophrenic. {C}

Meanwhile, the cribbing goes on and on.  Some ahadith refer to Satan as “Azazil” (the Arabic rendering): a moniker that was used in Leviticus (chapter 16) and in the Apocalypse of Abraham and the (Aramaic) Book of Enoch (as found in the Dead Sea Scrolls of Qumran).  We are told that he dwells in a dark abyss—a depiction that may have served as the basis for Koranic references like 85:4 and 101:9.

The Book of Enoch explains why certain angels—specifically “Azazel” (the Aramaic rendering)—fell from heaven: a group of outcasts dubbed the Watchers.  The head of the Watchers was named “al-Uzza” (alternately rendered “Ouza” or “Samyaza”; then “Samiarush” in medieval Arabic): a name that should ring some bells.  (See my discussion of the Satanic Verses in Appendix 5 to “Genesis Of A Holy Book”.)  This was likely an inspiration for the account of the banishment of “Iblis” from heaven.

In Zoroastrianism, there is a sacred tree in Paradise called the “haoma”, which seems to have served as the basis for the “Sidrah” [Lote Tree] mentioned in 34:16, 53:14-16, and 56:28.  (In Persian lore, the “haoma” was also considered a Tree Of Life.)  In the Book Of Enoch, we are also told about a Tree of Life—indicating that the leitmotif was not unique to Abrahamic lore.

And what of the pre-occupation with “drawing / tossing arrows” (stridently denounced in verses 3 and 40 of surah 5)?  The concern about belomancy [“belos manteia”; a form of scrying] was attested in the Book of Ezekiel (21:21).  Who engaged in this occult practice?  As it turns out: some (Zoroastrian) Persians, some (Christian) Chaldeans, as well as some (pagan and Abrahamic) Nabataeans.

Outside of that era and that region, this would not have been seen as a significant problem for mankind; and it certainly would not have been a major concern for the Creator of the Universe…since the beginning of time.

Recall that the Book of Ezekiel also included references to Gog and Magog (chapters 38 and 39) that cropped up in Islamic lore (21:96-97 in the Koran).  The book also gives an account of people made by having flesh put on bones (in the vision of “the valley of dry bones”, chapter 37).  This likely accounted for the misconception in the Koran, in which we are presented with botched embryology (2:259 and 23:14).

The notion that man was originally made from clay / mud (6:2, 7:12, 15:26-28/33, 17:61, 23:12, 32:7, 37:11, 38:71, and 55:14) likely comes from Zoroastrian etiology, where we are told that the first man, Gaya-Mart[an] (often rendered “Keyumars” / “Kayomart”) was created from clay / mud at the behest of the godhead, Ahura Mazda.  Homo sapiens did not come into being from clay / mud. Yet again, we find that the repetition of others’ flubs is a dead give-away that the material-at-hand is derivative.

Just to recap a bit, throughout the Koran, we find tidbits that were unique to the (Syriac) Apocalypse of Moses (a.k.a. the “Life of Adam and Eve”)—such as the Abrahamic deity promising Adam that he will eventually be allowed to return to paradise.  Meanwhile, the tale of a particular angel (rendered “Iblis” in Mohammedan lore) refusing to bow to Adam is not found in Genesis.  It occurs exclusively in Syriac Christian texts—most notably, in the (Syriac) Cave of Treasures.

When it comes to the story of Cain and Abel, the Koran presents a brief dialogue between the ill-fated brothers, in which latter says to former: “God accepts only from the god-wary.  Even if you extend your hand toward me to kill me, I will not extend my hand toward you to kill you.  Indeed, I fear god, the lord of all the worlds” (5:27-28).  Lo and behold, a similar account can be found in the “Targum Neofiti”.  The conversation between the two brothers presented in the Koran did not occur in either the Greek or Latin Bible; but it proliferated in Syriac circles. Not only did it occur in the (Syriac) Targum Neofiti; it occurred in the (Syriac) Targum of Jonathan ben Uziel and the (Syriac) Targum of Jerusalem (ref. Footnote 14 above).

A few verses later (5:32), a lesson is drawn from the murder that does not occur in the Torah: “That is why I decreed for the Children of Israel that whoever kills a soul, without [being guilty of] corruption in the land, it is as though he had killed all mankind; and whoever saves a life, it is as though he had saved all mankind.”  As stated earlier, this is nearly identical to a passage found in the (Syriac) Sanhedrin tractate.

It seems that wherever the Koranic account differs from standard Judeo-Christian accounts, it is due to the fact that it is hewing to Syriac material that was circulating in the region at the time.  (In other words: the versions with which the Nabataeans and their progeny would have been familiar.)  When we are told where Noah’s ark came to rest after the flood waters receded (verse 44 of Surah 11 in the Koran), it was Mount “Judi” (earlier known as “Mount Kardu”), which was located at the head of the Tigris River in Al-Sham.  Lo and behold, this was the place specified in SYRIAC sources (in stark contradistinction to the location specified in canonical sources: Mount Ararat).  “Judi” was a variation on the Syriac term for elevated place: “Gudo”.

And as we saw earlier, the tale of the Queen of Sheba (the Sabaean queen dubbed “Bilqis” in Mohammedan lore) outlined in verses 20-44 of Surah 27 in the Koran does not at all resemble the accounts found in First Kings 10:1-13 and Second Chronicles 9:1-13.  Rather, it seems to have been lifted from popular tales circulating in Syriac at the time.

Such appropriation trends were not limited to folklore.  As might be expected, they occurred with rituals as well.  The practice of fasting during a full lunar month was a Nabataean tradition; so it is no surprise that it carried over into the gestating Mohammedan movement.  The Nabataeans did so in tribute to either Dushara or the moon-god, Hubal [“spirit of Baal”].  And there is evidence that the tradition may have even been adopted from Syriac Churches in the region (ref. Philip Jenkins’ “The New Faces Of Christianity” and Paul-Gordon Chandler’s “Pilgrims Of Christ On The Muslim Road”.)

Regarding the relevant deities: animal sacrifices to Dushara are mentioned in various Safaitic inscriptions across the region; while Hubal is mentioned in various Nabataean inscriptions.  As it so happened, an alternate appellation for both deities was a variation of “Allah”.  (For more on this, see John F. Healey’s “The Religion of the Nabataeans”.)  None of these deities can be assessed in isolation—be it Dushar and Hubal or Allat, Al-Uzza, and Manat.  They were all part of the same theological ecosystem—influencing each other in different ways in different places at different times, for a variety of reasons.  THIS was the theological ecosystem in which the Mohammedan movement gestated; so it is through that meme-o-sphere that the origins of Islamic theology can best be understood.

In its earliest days, there was very little that was novel about the Mohammedan movement.  Even iconography was appropriated.  In Assyrian culture, a star (representing Shamash) was often shown alongside the crescent moon (representing Sin).  The Persians used the two celestial bodies in their iconography as well.  This symbolism should sound familiar.

In the 11th century, the Andalusian historian, Ibn Hazm of Cordoba noted that the “Sabians” of MoM’s time engaged in ablutions, prayed five times each day, and fasted for an entire lunar month.  They even venerated a cubic shrine somewhere in the Levant.  (This should also ring some bells.)  I dare say that if one were to remove all the elements of Islamic ritual / lore that were appropriated from antecedent cultures, there probably wouldn’t be much left. {D}

Another indication that material—replete with mistakes—was inherited from Semitic precursors is the use of the lunar calendar.  In considering the re-naming of the months, it is clear that the impression amongst the Mohammedans was that any given month occurred at the same point each year.  (The lunar calendar falls about 11 days short vis a vis the Earth’s revolution around the sun; so after a few years, one would think people would notice the cumulative temporal shift.  The “catch” is that the climate in the region—only about 24 to 34 degrees north—does not have palpable seasons.)  Hence the third month was known as early spring (“Rabi al-Awwal”) and the fourth month was known as late spring (“Rabi at-Thani” / “Rabi al-Akhir”).  Those months are followed by the early aridity (“Jumada al-Ula”) and the late aridity (“Jumada at-Thaniyah” / “Jumada al-Akhirah”).  The problem, of course, is that these months migrate from season to season over long periods of time. {E}

It’s worth reviewing the Mohammedan nomenclature of the early Middle Ages.  In the pre-Abbasid era, Syriac Christians—predominantly comprised of Jacobites and Nestorians—were referred to as “Melkites” by the (Muslim) Ishmaelites.  These “Melkites” were considered fellow Arabs, and spoke the same language (Syriac); yet were of a different Abrahamic Faith.  The moniker seems to have referred to these Arabs’ association with Roman imperialists—a stigma that would have come from the Abgarids, Tanukhids, Salihids, and—later—the Ghassanids.  It’s worth nothing that this pejorative was a rough cognate of the despised “Amalekites” from the Torah—a group of Canaanites who’d gone awry, thereby running afoul of god’s good graces.

Meanwhile, prior to the Abbasids, a “mu-S-L-M” was simply “one who submitted” to the Abrahamic deity.  (Note: “aslama”—meaning “submit”—is not to be confused with “salam”—meaning “peace”.)  In the “Recitations”, this was not a label for one who practiced a novel creed; it was used to identify a person who was pious—as with the description of Abraham in 3:67.  Throughout the “Recitations”, the preferred moniker for those who were sympathetic to the Mohammedan movement was “mu-min-een”: one who believes (from the Syriac lexeme for Faith: “iman”).  This was a general descriptor that was used on inscriptions and documents throughout the pre-Abbasid era (see the work of Fred Donner).

Such nomenclature reminds us that the Mohammedan movement was originally seen as a corrective to the Abrahamic Faith (as it had come to be by the 7th century).  The idea was to bring the Faith back to how it had been prior to being corrupted by the Jews and Christians.  So the movement was NOT (yet) seen as an entirely distinct religion.  Demarcations were rather fluid at the beginning; and would have become more stark out of sheer practicality—that is: for the purpose of clarifying who was on which side as the creedal differences became increasingly contentious.

And so it went: The Ummah was initially conceived as ALL right-thinking “people of the book” (as stipulated in, say, 2:62), who were simply understood as “believers”.  For the time being, the Faith-in-question was nothing new; or, at least, it was not seen as anything unprecedented.

So to truly understand the embryonic stage of Islam, it is important to recognize that the Mohammedan movement began as a REVIVALIST movement.  This is simply to say that it was an endeavor to bring people back to a Faith that had existed all along—from Noah, through Abraham and Moses and Solomon, to Jesus of Nazareth.  In the process, exponents sought to validate the Arabs’ Ishmaelite pedigree; as they (understandably) felt they’d been relegated to the margins of Abrahamic lore.  While refuting the Trinitarian model of Nicene Christianity was the central theological aim, buoying the pride of Arabs fed into to their (rejuvenated) ethnic identity.

So WHAT OF the validation of the Ishmaelite pedigree?  Legends of Hagar’s tribulation proliferated amongst the Bedouin tribes who were sympathetic to Abrahamic lore.  After all, she was their matriarch (Ishmael’s mother).  A popular tale would have been about her finding succor at a well (referred to as “Zam-Zam”), which seems to have been located in Nineveh (referred to as “Beth Arbaye” in Syriac); probably somewhere near Lalish.  In other words, pursuant to her banishment, Hagar would have fled northeastward, through Bashan (Aram), into Nineveh; not southward, through Arabah (Edom), into the Hijaz.  In the Koran, the place where Hagar wept for her banished son, Ishmael, is referred to as “Bakkah”—though the exact location of that place went unspecified.  As it turns out, during pre-Islamic times, Ishmaelite pilgrims would wander between two hills somewhere in Nabataea (probably near Petra).  It is likely that they did so in memory of Hagar’s frantic search for water, and the travails she endured as an outcast.  Efforts to burnish the Ishmaelite pedigree surely predated the Mohammedan movement.

This all played well into Islamic lore.  Sure enough, revisionists equated “Bakkah” with “Makkah”.  At some point in the early 8th century, a “Zam-Zam” well was promptly established near the new Hijazi temenos.  And the two hills came to be dubbed “Safa” and “Marwa”.  (I explore this matter at length in my essay, “Mecca And Its Cube”.)

A re-branding of the nascent Ishmaelite movement—as a revolutionary RELIGIOUS phenomenon—seems not to have occurred until the last decade of the 7th century.  It was only then that there started to be some talk of a new holy book.  Because orality was the norm for the target audience, it should come as no surprise that the sacred text came to be known as the “Recitations”.  For it was initially not written; it was merely spoken.  The generalized Syriac term for a lectionary was “Kur[i]an[a]” (as opposed to, say, a Hellenic term like “[he]Irmologion”).  That would be rendered “Qur’an”.

Meanwhile, the Syriac term for the Abrahamic god was “Elah[a]”, rendered “Allah”.  Terms like “nabi” and “rasul” were also retained; though “mu-H-M-D” was eventually treated as a given name (for the seal of the Abrahamic prophets) rather than as a general descriptor for a leader of the Ishmaelites (see Appendix 3 of my essay, “Genesis Of A Holy Book”).

The last decade of the 7th century is precisely when the orthography suddenly underwent a metamorphosis—from the Nabataean alphabet to more distinctly Arabic characters (i.e. Kufic).  Meanwhile, a new liturgical language was in the works—transitioning from Syriac to what was effectively proto-CA.  New vernacular invariably came into fashion, as would be expected with the introduction of a revolutionary new creed.  For example, the “amir al-mumineen” [“leader of the believers”] came to be known as the “khalifah”—a Koranic term that meant something along the lines of “successor” or “steward”.  Such an honorific would have made more sense because it referred to the carrying on of a hallowed legacy: a NEW legacy that was retroactively inaugurated at the so-called “Hijra” (migration from Mecca to Yathrib) c. 622.

For further reading, see “The Original Sources Of The Qur’an: Its Origin In Pagan Legends and Mythology” by the English philologist, William St. Clair Tisdall (1905).  Other insights can be found in the “Routledge Studies In The Qur’an”: “The Qur’an In Its Historical Context” published in two parts (the second of which is entitled “New Perspectives On The Qur’an”), edited by Gabriel Said Reynolds.  Interestingly, the majority of useful work on this topic has been done by German scholars—from Harald Suermann and Karl-Heinz  Ohlig to Gerrit Jan  Reinink and Joachim Gnilka.  Günter Lüling is probably the most famous.  (Patricia Crone was Danish; Han J. W. Drijvers was Dutch.)

Again, the question arises: Why is there such vociferous—even militant—push-back when it is pointed out that the Mohammedan movement began as a SYRIAC movement?  Infelicitously, there is a grave vulnerability built into Islamic doctrine.  Recall that the story is that the Koran was a VERBATIM TRANSCRIPT of god’s speech…down to every last phoneme.  Such a brazen claim sets the entire dogmatic edifice up for a fatal fall.  For the moment we find that the “Recitations” were NOT delivered in unadulterated CA, the entire house of cards collapses.

And so it goes: In its attempt to bolster its sacrosanctity, the creed paints itself into a corner.  In order for the standard Islamic narrative to hold up, the final revelation HAD to be delivered in CA.  It couldn’t be otherwise.  This position cannot be abandoned, lest the credence of virtually everything else is brought into serious question.  Consequently, this is a hill that obdurate Muslim apologists will inclined to die on.

In sum: The Achilles Heal of Islam is its Syriac provenance.  The question, then, becomes: Is it possible for there to be a Reformed Islam that concedes this point, thereby accommodating Reality (instead of depending upon the perpetuation of bespoke delusions).  Such a reformation would open the way for a non-dogmatic “cultural” Islam in which supplicants can be honest about the history of their Faith.  Insh’allah.

{A  Other tribes in Yathrib included the Banu Khazraj (a.k.a. the Banu Kayla, which had been displaced from Yemen when the Himyarites overtook the Sabaeans) and the Banu Aws.  At that point in time, Khaybar had recently endured a rather fractious epoch.  Three years before MoM was purportedly born (c. 567), the (Syriac Christian) Ghassanids seized the city and purged it of its Jewish inhabitants—an event that was commemorated in a Syriac inscription at Harran the following year (by Sharahil bar Zalim).  Already, there was discord in the region due to disagreements about the Abrahamic legacy.}

{B  Other onomastic mutations occurred from Syriac to Arabic—as with “Aza-El” in the Syriac “Midrash Yalkut”, rendered “Azrail” in CA (thereby conflating this angel with “Azra-El”, the Old Aramaic name for the angel of death).  So when the Koran actually mentions the angel of death (in 32:11), it can’t do so by name.  Considering the memetic ecosystem in which the Mohammedan movement gestated, such mix-ups are understandable.  Meanwhile the Hebrew “Esther” is a take-off on the Assyrian “Ishtar”, who was associated with Venus (a.k.a. the north star).  The name is rendered “Zuhrah” in Arabic, which—sure enough—doubled as the moniker for Venus.}

{C  Abrahamic lore posits a godhead that is both vindictive AND merciful.  A person who was simultaneously rancorous and compassionate would likely be diagnosed with some sort of mental disorder.  How shall we characterize a super-being that (ostensibly) exhibits these two traits in extremis?  Schizophrenic deities, in turns out, are rather commonplace amongst the world’s motley theologies. When it comes to a “merciful” authoritarian deity, the idea is that, insofar as one gets with the program, one has nothing to worry about. As vindictive as he may be, so long as he is placated, the deity is willing to withhold punishment. This offer of (ultimate) mercy ensures that people will be motivated to fall into line. For no matter how flawed one might be, as long as one appeases him, he will show mercy on the appointed day of reckoning. That’s a proposition that’s tough to turn down.}

{D  The Mandaeans and Manicheans aren’t the only candidates.  Centuries later, people were still trying to figure out who the “Sabians” might have been.  In his “Fisal wa-Milal”, the 11th-century Andalusian scholar, Ali ibn Ahmed ibn Sa’id ibn Hazm of Cordoba identified them as the “Harranians”—that is, denizens of the Syriac Kingdom of Urhay (a.k.a. “Osroene”), the capital of which was Edessa.  Prior to the Mohammedan conquests, the kingdom had been ruled by the (Arab) Abgarids—who were alternately vassals of the (Zoroastrian) Parthians and the (Christian) Armenians.  Ibn Hazm specified that these “Sabians” honored “the seven planets and twelve constellations”, engaged in ablutions, prayed five times each day, fasted for an entire lunar month, and even venerated a cubic shrine.  Meanwhile…the 14th-century Ayyubid historian, Abu al-Fida of Damascus cited Abu Ismail Maghribi’s account of the “Sabians”, whom the latter  referred to as “the Syriac peoples”: “The [Syrians] are the most ancient of nations, and Adam and his sons spoke their language.  [Here, he’s probably thinking of Old Aramaic.]  Their religious community is that of the Sabians, and they claim that they received their religion from Seth and Idris [Enoch].  They have a book that they ascribe to Seth [“The Book of Seth”].  In it, good precepts are recorded—such as enjoin truth-speaking and courage, and give protection to the stranger; and evil practices are mentioned, from which they are commanded to abstain.  The Sabians had certain religious rites—among which are seven fixed times of prayer, five of which correspond with that of the Muslims.”  Abu Ismail Maghribi also noted that they fasted for a full lunar month.  A final possibility is that “Sabians” was simply a rendering of “Sabaeans”—the people of Abyssinia and southern Arabia who played an integral role in Abrahamic lore.  This makes sense, as they were precursors to the Jewish Himyarites and Christian Aksumites—who would have propagated the Abrahamic Faith up until the Mohammedan conquest of the region.  Other theories about the identity of the “Sabians” can be found in Ibn al-Nadim’s “Fihrist”, Al-Shahrastani’s “Kitab al-Milal wa al-Nihal”, and Al-Masudi’s “Muruj al-Dhahab”.  The fact that nobody knows for sure who this people may have been is testament to the fact that the “Recitations” is not nearly as “mubeen” as is often supposed.}

{E  The Mohammedans likely opted to re-name the lunar months because the incumbent nomenclature—used by Syriac-speaking peoples, Jews and Christians alike—had been inherited from the (pagan) Assyrians / Babylonians: Nisan, Iyar, Sivan [Simanu], Tammuz, Ab[u], Elul[u], Tishri [Tashritu], etc.  Once Mecca was established as the temenos (see my essay, “Mecca And Its Cube”), the seasons would not have seemed to have much relevance; as its location is barely above 21 degrees north (so has no significant weather changes from season to season).  The problem, of course, is that much of the world lives in regions with a continental climate, where such a temporal shift WOULD become problematic.  The twelfth month, for example, is the month of heat (“Ramadan”), which sounds odd when it falls during cold winters.  Meanwhile, from one decade to the next, the purported springtide (“Rabi”) ends up falling at all times of the year.  Was the Creator of the Universe unaware of this?}