**Chapter 11: Debate Among the Scholars — Was Waraqah the First Believer?**

O my brother.

Try to imagine an assembly on a quiet night in centuries past. Olive-oil lamps stand on copper holders, lighting the stone walls of a house in Baghdad, or Kufah, or some corner of Andalusia. Several men in white robes sit cross-legged. Before them lie open books: *Shahih al-Bukhari*, *Shahih Muslim*, *Kitab al-Maghazi* by Ibn Ishaq, *At-Tabaqat* by Ibn Sa‘d. The dust of time has seeped into those pages, yet the readers’ eyes are still fixed upon one seemingly small question, able to tear a man’s breast into two ravines. The question is this: *Who was the first believer on this earth?* And if the question is pulled deeper, a name surfaces, too often forgotten, or too often disputed: Waraqah bin Naufal.

Some scholars raised their voices, not loud, for the learned need not force their words to stand out. They said, “Let us not stretch this long. The first to believe was Khadijah bint Khuwaylid, *radhiyallahu ‘anha*. She it was who calmed the Prophet *shallallahu ‘alaihi wa sallam* when he came down from the Cave of Hira. She it was who said, ‘By Allah, Allah will never disgrace you.’ And she it was who brought her husband to Waraqah. If Khadijah were not already certain, would she have brought him? Certainly not. So Khadijah was certain before anyone.”

O my brother, this argument is strong. For in *Shahih al-Bukhari*, *Ummul Mukminin Aisyah radhiyallahu ‘anha* narrated that the Prophet spoke of Khadijah with words that still bring tears: *“She believed in me when others denied me…”* So, close the discussion? Not necessarily. For from another corner of the assembly, someone raised a finger — an elder whose eyes had read much, not only books of hadith but also the traces of history. He said, “But listen. Before Khadijah spoke belief with her tongue, had not Waraqah already known the *Namus* sent down to Musa? Was he not the first to say, ‘This is revelation’? Was he not the first to affirm with proof from scripture, not merely with a wife’s love?”

Thus began the eternal debate, like wind blowing from one generation to the next. Some said Waraqah was the first believer before the door of official preaching opened. Some said he was only a *hanif* who died on the threshold, never entering the house of Islam complete with its law. Some took the middle path, saying, “He is a believer, yes, but ‘the first believer’ is a title reserved for Abu Bakr, or Khadijah, or Ali, for Waraqah died before the *adhan* was called, before the five prayers were made obligatory, before Ramadan fasting was prescribed. How can he be a perfect believer if he never performed what we perform?”

O my brother, listen to the voice of the heart amid the clamour of tongues. Allah Ta‘ala says: *O mankind, indeed We have created you from male and female and made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another. Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous among you…* (Surah Al-Hujurat: 13). This verse is a cooling cord sent down from heaven to hands too fond of boxing honour into categories. The most noble is not the one first to stand in the ranks, but the one deepest in faith before his Lord. Yet because man was created with curiosity, the scholars still seek answers. And we, as readers of history, must not look upon their debate with contempt. For debate conducted with knowledge is a journey seeking truth, provided it is not accompanied by hard hearts and mutual charges of unbelief.

Let us look closer. According to the most *mashhur* narration from *Ummul Mukminin Aisyah radhiyallahu ‘anha* in *Shahih al-Bukhari*, the Prophet Muhammad *shallallahu ‘alaihi wa sallam* returned from the Cave of Hira trembling, was wrapped up, and Khadijah calmed him. Khadijah was the first to see the Prophet’s face after revelation, the first to touch the hand that Jibril had just grasped, the first to say with conviction, “This is not a devil; this is mercy.” Only after that did Khadijah bring him to Waraqah. So chronologically, Khadijah’s faith bloomed in her breast before Waraqah opened his mouth in that modest house. In this, O my brother, whoever upholds Khadijah as the first believer has a firm foundation. The Prophet himself bore witness to her excellence. Who are we to dispute?

But from another chamber of that assembly, a voice came, soft yet piercing. “But, O learned ones, distinguish between faith born of a wife’s love, and faith born of recognition from scripture. Khadijah believed because she knew Muhammad’s character for fifteen years. Waraqah believed because he knew the signs of prophethood for decades. Khadijah believed in the one who brought the news. Waraqah believed in what the news was, before the bearer had time to explain. Is that not a deeper acknowledgment? Is that not eyewitness testimony from the Book that descended before the Qur‘an?” The assembly fell silent again. Some nodded. Some shook their heads. What is clear: Waraqah was not one to say, “I believe because you are my brother-in-law.” No. He said, “I believe because this is the *Namus* that came to Musa.” He distinguished between family love and love of truth. And in the history of this community, such acknowledgment is rare.

Then a third voice rose, from one carrying a notebook. “Consider,” he said, “that Waraqah died before the Prophet *shallallahu ‘alaihi wa sallam* went out to preach openly. He died during the *fatrah* — the pause between the first revelation and what followed. In the narrations of the *sirah* writers, some mention his death only days after that meeting. Some also connect the temporary silence of heaven with Waraqah’s death. If he died before being commanded to pray, before wine was forbidden, before *zakat* was prescribed, then what is his ruling? Does he belong to the *ashabul-fathrah* — those who died between two messengers, or between two books, who were not called by a complete law?”

O my brother, this is a question deeper than who first stood in the ranks. This is a theological question about the mercy of Allah. What of one who knew truth before truth came in perfect form? What of one who walked in mist, waiting for dawn, then died when light had only just appeared on the horizon, before it could touch his whole face? The scholars, with the gentleness of hearts filled with piety, spoke in one resounding voice: “Waraqah is a believer. He died in a state of faith.” There is no disagreement here. Imam al-Bukhari, Imam Muslim, Ibn Ishaq, Ibn Sa‘d, at-Tabari — the historians and hadith writers who are the references of this community — all agree that Waraqah died in Islam, in a state pleasing to Allah. Even the Prophet *shallallahu ‘alaihi wa sallam*, as recorded in several narrations, bore witness for him. Some narrate that he was promised paradise. Some mention double reward, because he waited without ever seeing Madinah, without ever hearing the *adhan*, without ever seeing the Ka‘bah filled with people bowing in order. His heart alone had already bowed.

Allah Ta‘ala says: *The Messenger has believed in what was revealed to him from his Lord, and so have the believers. All of them have believed in Allah, His angels, His books, and His messengers. [They say], “We make no distinction between any of His messengers.” And they say, “We hear and we obey. [Our Lord,] forgive us, and to You is the return.”* (Surah Al-Baqarah: 285). O my brother, this verse is not only for us who perform the five daily prayers and fast Ramadan. This verse is also for Waraqah, whose heart had already said, “We make no distinction between Your messengers,” before he ever saw Ali’s radiant face, before he ever saw Abu Bakr weeping in the Cave of Hira later. Waraqah had believed in Musa. Waraqah had believed in Isa. And when Muhammad came, his heart, trained by the Taurat and Injil, knew at once: this is the seal. So how could he not be a believer?

But O my brother, let us not be trapped in the debate over titles like children fighting for a drum in the market. Who was first, who was second, who was third — all are historical records worth studying, but not weapons for stabbing one another. If Khadijah was the first woman believer, that is the honour Allah decreed for her. If Abu Bakr was the first male believer who lived to witness open preaching, that is the honour Allah decreed for him. If Ali was the first child believer raised in the lap of prophethood, that is the honour Allah decreed for him. And if Waraqah — Waraqah the old, the dim-eyed, who died on the threshold — is also inscribed on the *lauhul mahfuzh* as one of the first to know the *Namus*, then let that be a special mercy we need not wrest from one another.

What I wish to convey to you here, O my brother, is something deeper than the order of numbers. Waraqah teaches us that truth can be known before truth appears clear. He teaches that a man living in the darkness of Jahiliyyah, mocked as a “Nasrani” or a “strange scribe,” may be closer to Allah than one standing at the front of the rows at the Ka‘bah while his heart is empty. He teaches that the road to faith is not only through ears that hear preaching, but also through the heart’s eye that reads, waits, and dives deep. Therefore, do not despise one whose path differs from yours, as long as that path leads to truth. Do not say, “You do not join the Friday prayer with me, so you are not of my group.” For who knows, in some dark corner, there is a Waraqah reading scripture with a heart cleaner than ours, which often merely repeats words without pondering their meaning.

So if asked of my heart, not my tongue, whether Waraqah was the first believer, I would answer with a smile, as the old man smiled on his deathbed: “Waraqah was the first believer among those who knew Muhammad before Muhammad knew himself. He was the first believer among the readers of scripture who awaited the seal. He was the first believer among old men whose eyes were dim but whose hearts were awake.” And that is enough. No title needed. No trophy needed. For before Allah, what is sought is not who stood the fastest, but who stood the straightest in truth until the end of his life.

Let us, O my brother, leave that assembly of debate. Let the books remain open on the table. Let the scholars continue their courteous discourse, for scholarly discourse is the sign of a living community. But we, with hearts filled by Waraqah’s story, will step into the final chapter. We will take the most important wisdom from all this: how an old man who died alone in Mecca could teach a community numbering in the billions, until the Day of Judgment.

Wallahu a‘lam.