Despite the agreement of early Sunni jurists on point, ‘for a man to contract binding marriages for his minor daughter without her consent’, current conventional wisdom among Muslims in the West holds that women’s consent is always necessary for their marriages. A ubiquitous pamphlet entitled “Women’s Status in Islam” circulated by ICNA, one of the largest mainstream Muslim organizations in the
For these and other contemporary authors, then, the Prophet’s words settle the question. The modern authors who affirm women’s freedom from compulsion to marry are not articulating a critique of dominant jurisprudential doctrine based on a reinterpretation of this hadith; rather, they present the necessity of female consent as if it were an uncontested description of a traditional position. And unlike in the fiqh literature, the Prophet’s marriage to ‛Ā’ishah is almost never discussed, even to suggest that it was exceptional to him or is no longer appropriate as an example for Muslim men to follow.[2] This stress on the Prophet’s statement is illustrative of a larger phenomenon in contemporary discussions of Islamic marriage: the Prophet’s own actions are rarely mentioned, while a few ahādīth, such as the one declaring that a virgin’s permission must be sought, are repeated frequently.
Indeed, for many Muslims today Prophetic sunna is essentially synonymous with hadith.[3] This identification is troubling for those who value the methods and diligent approach of jurisprudence, because ahādīth reports, in and of themselves, are not a source of law. The sunnah of God’s Messenger is considered by jurists to constitute the second source of law, after the Qur’an. The hadith literature is merely a means of recording and transmitting that sunnah. Thus, to the extent that particular ahādīth help us to know the Prophet’s sunnah, they are useful for legal purposes. But they are materials to be interpreted as part of a larger process, not legal directives that can be directly applied.
Others have questioned the importance of ahādīth on a different basis: they are only acceptable as the source for discovering the Prophet’s sunnah to the extent that their authenticity is accepted. With regard to the reports on both women and marriage, there is reason to suspect the authenticity of some of the most frequently cited ahādīth.
The issue of authenticity can be addressed succinctly, though of course it cannot be resolved here. With due respect to the immense accomplishments of al-Bukhārī, Muslim, and other hadith scholars, legitimate critiques have been raised about both chains of transmission (isnād) and content (matn) for several oft-repeated misogynist ahādīth. As to the former, the problematic role of Abū Hurayrah as a transmitter of numerous Prophetic statements derogatory toward women has not yet been satisfactorily dealt with.[4] As for the latter, it has been argued that these statements stressing female deficiency and the magnitude of husbands’ rights over their wives are sufficiently incompatible with the Qur’anic view of women and marriage so as to require, in Khaled Abou El Fadl’s terms, a “conscientious pause” before one relies on them in making legal determinations.
Yet it is precisely these traditions that many ultra-conservative, Salafī, or Wahhābī jurists and activists rely on in their discourses about marriage and spousal rights. In the collection of Saudi juridical responsa studied by Abou El Fadl, one frequently finds statements attributed to the Prophet that affirm women’s moral and intellectual weakness, delicate constitutions, and inherent susceptibility to temptation. Alongside these generally “demeaning” hadith, numerous others specify the need for female obedience in marriage, particularly with regard to submitting to the husband’s sexual desires.
It is largely because of the prominence of statements such as these in contemporary appeals to hadith that most feminist Muslims have made sparing reference to the hadith literature in their attempts to rethink Muslim marriage, relying instead on internal textual criteria to interpret the Qur’an. Asma Barlas has argued that
[I]nequality and discrimination derive not from the teachings of the Qur’an but from the secondary religious texts, the Tafsīr (Qur’anic exegesis) and the Ahādīth (s. hadith) (narratives purportedly detailing the life and praxis of the Prophet Muhammad).[5]
A number of prominent feminist exegetes such as Amina Wadud have argued that the difficulties with the hadith literature are so significant that only the Qur’an is reliable as a source for God’s commands.[6] Barlas does not go quite this far, arguing that sunnah is supplementary to the Qur’an, though it must be ultimately subordinate to it, and that ahādīth are potentially useful as a way of knowing the sunnah.
When authors such as Barlas do discuss the personal conduct of the Prophet Muhammad, they tend to emphasize the “egalitarian aspects of the Prophet’s Sunnah.”[7] Along with some apologists, they make brief reference to one or more of the following “facts” about the Prophet’s marital life: he did not confine his wives to their quarters; he was not harsh with them; he did not hit or abuse them; he did household chores; he dissuaded his son-in-law from taking a second wife; and he divorced a woman who expressed an unwillingness to be married to him.[8]
Some have, quite reasonably, leveled charges of inconsistency against those who unquestioningly accept these positive reports about the Prophet’s conduct while critiquing the reliability of Prophetic statements drawn from the same, or similar, source materials. Yet since traditional legal, exegetical, and historical sources are quite clear that Muhammad was gentle and kind with his wives, not harsh, that he helped with household chores, and so forth, why not make this the starting point for a more thorough engagement with his sunnah?
Most of the contemporary disagreement over the relative weight of Qur’an, hadith, and sunnah as authoritative sources for regulating Muslim conduct relates to the authenticity of certain Prophetic sayings applicable to women: those that liken them to donkeys and dogs, or describe them as “crooked” (from a bent rib), “a trial” (for male Muslims), or as the majority of the inhabitants of Hell. Those that “command” obedience of a wife to her husband, and suggest that women’s entry into paradise is dependent on their husband’s pleasure are repugnant to many contemporary Muslims, while they are vigorously defended by others as a realistic and appropriate basis for the distribution of rights in family and society.
It seems safe to assume that there is never going to be agreement between all sections of the Muslim community as to how to deal with these ahādīth. Some will always hold that they are sound (saḥīḥ) and others that they cannot possibly be so. In reality, however, they are marginal to the Prophet’s sunnah. This is particularly the case when we emphasize that portion of the sunna that relates to his own conduct in his personal relationships. Despite the disagreement about the ahādīth just discussed, there is significant, unremarked common ground among Muslims from widely divergent perspectives as to what the Prophet himself actually did in his relationships with his wives.[9]
A renewed focus on the Prophet’s own behavior can provide a bridge between the alternatives of a sole focus on Qur’an, which by itself is not sufficient as a guide to Muslim practice, and the acceptance of problematic and troubling ahādīth. What might be the implications if this type of epistemological precedence were granted to the Prophet’s own behavior? It would become possible to argue that the Prophet’s model provides important guidance to Muslim husbands about how to behave and to Muslim women about the type of behavior they have a right to expect in their marriages. However, this type of discussion must move beyond the superficial invocation of Muhammad’s gentleness with his wives to a serious consideration of those of his actions that cause consternation, embarrassment, or discomfort today among Muslims: among them, his multiple wives and his marriage to a pre-pubescent girl.[10]
As my discussion of the early jurists demonstrates, simply knowing the Prophet’s sunnah is neither a panacea for disagreement nor a fixed prescription for legal doctrine. Though they largely agreed on what the Prophet himself did under particular circumstances, the fuqahā’ did not arrive at the same answers as to whether his behavior obligated, encouraged, or even permitted other Muslims to behave in the same way. My extended exploration of several legal issues discussed with respect to the Prophet’s marriages was meant to illustrate the complex variables involved in those legal determinations, in contrast to the oversimplified ways in which Muslim marriage, and the Prophet’s marital conduct, is too often discussed today. The example of the early jurists demonstrates that ikhtilāf – disagreement – was the rule, not the exception, on numerous issues, yet nonetheless, they were able to engage in serious dialogue because of the common commitment to discovering ways to live out the Prophetic example. We must strive today to do the same.
[1] “The Right to Choose,” Ask the Imam (Sa‘dullah Khan), from www.beliefnet.com, printed
[2] For one exception, see Asma Barlas, Believing Women in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’an (
[3] For one approach to this topic, see Fazlur Rahman, Islamic Methodology in History (Karachi: Central Institute of Islamic Research, 1965).
[4] Abou El Fadl notes that “[M]any of the traditions demeaning to women are reported, in one version or another, by Abū Hurayrah who has been a rather controversial figure in early Islamic history. In fact criticism directed at his credibility is not novel, and, in fact, has induced some writers to compose books in his defense.” See Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, 215, and the sources cited there. For an extended discussion of one tradition related by Abū Hurayrah, and the question of his reliability, see Fatima Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite: A Feminist Interpretation of Women’s Rights in Islam, trans. Mary Jo Lakeland (Reading (MA): Addison –Wesley Publishing Company, 1991), 62-81. See also Barlas, Believing Women in Islam, 49.
[5] Barlas, Believing Women, 3.
[6] Amina Wadud, Qur’an and Woman (Kuala Lumpur: Penerbit Fajar Bhakti Snd., 1992).
[7] Barlas, Believing Women, 125.
[8] Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God’s Name, 214-5; Barlas, Believing Women, 124-5; Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite, 142-5, 156-7; Najla Hamadeh, “Islamic Family Legislation: The Authoritarian Discourse of Silence,” in Yamani, ed., Feminism and Islam, 335, 342, 348-9 (n. 28).
[9] Here, I would like to borrow the distinction so usefully made by Ali Asani and Kamal Abdel-Malik between “the Muhammad of faith” and “the historical Muhammad.” Celebrating Muhammad: Images of the Prophet in Popular Muslim Poetry (Columbia (SC): University of South Carolina Press, 1995), 5. For my purposes, so long as Muslims agree as to the validity of these narratives, whether they are historically true or not is beside the point.
[10] Barlas notes these competing precedents. Believing Women, 124.
