In this journey, we have been seeing how Allahﷻ uses examples to explain deep truths—because an idea, when presented through an example, becomes more powerful, more striking, more unforgettable. Sometimes Allahﷻ explains directly, but at other times He makes you see, makes you visualize, makes you reflect—through parables.
Froth of Rains and Froth of Fire ( Melting Metals) – All impure
And one such profound example appears in Surah Ar-Ra’d, verse 17.
“He sends down water from the sky, and valleys flow according to their measure, and the torrent carries along swelling foam. And from that which they heat in the fire, seeking to make ornaments or utensils, there is foam like it. Thus Allah presents truth and falsehood: as for the foam, it vanishes, but as for what benefits people, it remains on the earth. Thus does Allah present examples.”
(Surah Ar-Ra’d 13:17)
Before we look at the verse, understand the reality it is addressing. In this world, there are only two paths—the path of truth and the path of falsehood. The beliefs people hold, the actions they perform, the ideologies they follow—all ultimately fall into one of these two. But here is the confusion. When you look at the world, falsehood often appears dominant. It looks powerful. It looks widespread. It looks successful. Those who follow falsehood seem to have numbers, influence, wealth, authority. They appear strong. On the other hand, truth often appears small. Its followers seem few. They look weak, suppressed, outnumbered.
And what happens? People get deceived. They look at size. They look at numbers. They look at dominance. And they conclude—this must be correct. “So many people are following it… it must be right.” “Our society follows it… our forefathers followed it… the whole world accepts it…” And so they remain upon falsehood—not because it is true, but because it appears big.
This has been the pattern from the beginning of humanity. Whenever truth is presented, it is resisted. Those who stand for it are reduced, oppressed, pushed aside. And those who follow falsehood appear to rise, expand, dominate. So Allahﷻ addresses this illusion—not by mere statement, but through a powerful example.
In this single verse, Allahﷻ gives not one, but two examples—two different images, carrying the same message. One through water. One through fire. Two different elements, yet one shared reality.
First, the example of water. Imagine rain falling from the sky. The rainwater flows through valleys, streams, rivers—each channel carrying water according to its capacity. Small channels carry little. Large rivers carry much. As the water flows, especially after heavy rain, it begins to surge, to rush, to overflow.
And as it flows, what do you see? Foam. Froth. Bubbles rising on the surface. Not just foam—along with it, dirt, debris, impurities—all of it gets lifted and carried on top. The surface becomes covered. To the eye, it looks like the foam is everything. It appears dominant. It appears abundant. It appears as if that is the main substance.
But is it? No.
Because beneath that foam—quiet, steady, unseen—the real water flows. The water that benefits people. The water that sustains life. The water that remains.
What happens to the foam? After some time, it disappears. It dries, it scatters, it vanishes. The impurities settle or are carried away. And what remains? The pure water. So what was dominant was not lasting. What appeared large was not beneficial. What looked powerful was actually worthless. And what remained quiet and hidden—that alone was real.
Then Allahﷻ gives the second example—through fire. Think of metals—gold, silver, iron. When they are placed in fire, when they are melted under intense heat, something happens. The impurities within them rise to the surface. A frothy layer forms on top—like foam. It bubbles, it swells, it spreads.
And again, what do you see? The top layer looks dominant. It occupies space. It appears like the main substance. But what is it in reality? It is impurity. It is waste. It has no value.
What do they do with it? They remove it. They discard it. Or it disappears on its own. And what remains beneath? Pure metal. Refined. Valuable. Useful.
That is what is used—to make tools, to make ornaments, to build, to benefit.
So in both examples—water and fire—the same pattern emerges. Impurities rise to the surface. They appear dominant. They look large. But they do not last. They have no benefit. They disappear. And what remains is what is pure, what is stable, what benefits people.
This is the message.
Falsehood is like foam. It rises. It spreads. It looks powerful. It dominates the surface. But it has no substance. No benefit. No permanence. It will disappear. Truth is like the water beneath. Like the pure metal beneath. It may seem hidden. It may seem less. But it remains. It benefits. It endures.
So do not be deceived by appearance. Do not measure truth by numbers. Do not measure reality by visibility. Do not say, “This is bigger, so it must be right.” Because foam is always bigger on the surface. But it is worthless.
Think about how people decide. A matter arises—what is right, what is wrong? One side has thousands supporting it. The other side has only a few. Immediately, people conclude—the majority must be correct. The minority must be wrong. This is the mistake.
Allahﷻ is correcting that thinking. Do not look at how many follow something. Look at what it is. Does it benefit? Does it remain? Does it have substance? That is how truth is recognized.
Falsehood may have wealth. It may have power. It may have influence. It may have followers. It may appear like a great force. But in the sight of Allahﷻ, it is like foam—something to be swept away.
And those who stand upon truth—even if they are few, even if they are oppressed, even if they appear weak—if they remain firm, they are like the water beneath, like the pure metal beneath. They are the ones who remain. They are the ones who benefit. They are the ones who will be rewarded.
Allahﷻ even shows us through history. A massive army may appear invincible—like the army of elephants. Yet a small force, like the birds of Ababeel, can destroy it. Size is not the measure. Appearance is not the measure. Reality is the measure.
So what is Allahﷻ teaching through this example? When you want to distinguish truth from falsehood, do not look at what is loud, what is widespread, what is dominant. Look at what is beneficial. Look at what endures. Look at what has substance.
That is truth. And what rises, swells, shines on the surface, but disappears without benefit—that is falsehood. This is how Allahﷻ presents the difference—clear, powerful, unforgettable.
So reflect. When you see something popular, something widespread, something dominant—ask yourself, is it foam, or is it water? Is it impurity, or is it purity? Does it benefit, or does it only appear? Because in the end, only what benefits people will remain. And that is the scale by which truth and falsehood must be judged.
Allahﷻ does not stop with just the image—He completes it. That foam which rises, that froth which dominates the surface, what happens to it? It does not remain. It mixes with the air, it dissolves, it disappears, it becomes nothing. It may look large for a moment, it may spread, it may seem overwhelming—but a little time, a little wind, and it is gone. Completely gone out- vanished.
But what remains? What stays? What benefits people? The water beneath. The pure water settles, remains, stays within the earth, flows, nourishes, sustains. The foam goes away, but the water remains. The foam vanishes, but the benefit stays.
This is how Allahﷻ concludes the example in Surah Ar-Ra’d, verse 17. This is how Allahﷻ presents parables—clear, precise, powerful.
So understand the principle. Water and fire both bring impurities to the surface. But just because something rises to the surface, just because something appears on top, just because something looks dominant—you must not think that is what is beneficial. You must not think that is what matters. What matters is what remains. What benefits.
That is why Allahﷻ gives both examples—water and fire. Through water, He shows how foam rises and disappears. Through fire, He shows how impurities rise and are removed. In both, the same lesson—what appears on top is not the reality.
And this is not just about physical things. This applies to ideas, to messages, to truth itself.
Some messages are like water. They bring comfort. They give hope. They speak about reward, about Paradise, about blessings. They attract, they soothe, they invite. And some messages are like fire. They warn. They caution. They speak about punishment, about consequences, about Hell. They shake, they burn, they purify.
The message of truth contains both. Encouragement and warning. Hope and fear. Water and fire.
Now what happens when such truth is presented to people? When you speak about good, when you invite towards what is right, when you call towards truth—what happens? People begin to react. Those who reject it rise up. They oppose. They make noise. They appear dominant. Like foam, they rise to the surface. They look strong. They look overwhelming.
And when you warn—when you speak about consequences, when you expose wrongdoing, when you bring the heat of truth—again, reactions come. People resist. They oppose. They rise again like foam.
So whether you present truth as water or as fire, the reaction is the same. Those who reject it will rise, swell, appear strong. But what are they in reality? Foam. Temporary. Without substance.
So do not be deceived by that reaction. Do not think, “They are many… they are powerful… they are dominating… so they must be right.” No. That is exactly the illusion Allahﷻ is removing.
Truth is not measured by noise, numbers or by dominance, rather it is measured by benefit, substance and by what remains. This example is not only a lesson—it is guidance for different types of people.
For those who stand upon truth, who call towards it, who face opposition—this is a source of strength. When you are suppressed, when you are pushed down, when others seem to rise above you—do not think you have lost. Do not think they have won. The one beneath, the one steady, the one holding truth—that is the one who benefits people. That is the one who remains.
You may be attacked. You may be silenced. You may be outnumbered. But you are like the water beneath. You are the one carrying benefit. So remain firm.
And for those who are arrogant in falsehood, who look at their numbers, their strength, their influence, and think, “We are many, so we are right”—this is a warning. You are like foam. However much you rise, however much you spread, you will disappear. You have no permanence.
And for the one in the middle—the one confused, the one watching both sides, the one unsure—this is guidance. Do not look at who is more. Do not look at who is louder. Do not look at who appears stronger. Look at the message. Ask yourself—what is beneficial? What brings good? What remains?
Choose that. Because what floats will go. What settles will remain.
This is the scale Allahﷻ gives you. Do not judge truth by height. Do not judge by numbers. Do not judge by dominance. Judge by benefit.
If someone says, “Do not steal, do not cheat, do not take interest, worship Allahﷻ alone”—even if he is alone, that is truth. And if someone says, “Do whatever you want, follow desires, commit wrong, associate partners”—even if thousands follow him, that is falsehood.
So what do you look at? The content. The message. The benefit. That is —the criterion.
And through this single example, Allahﷻ gives multiple lessons. A warning to falsehood. A comfort to truth. A guide to the confused.
White thread becomes distinct from the black thread
Then Allahﷻ moves to another example—again with the same literary beauty. This time, about fasting.
“It has been made permissible for you, on the nights of fasting, to have relations with your wives. They are clothing for you and you are clothing for them… So now have relations with them and seek what Allah has decreed for you. And eat and drink until the white thread of dawn becomes distinct from the black thread [of night]. Then complete the fast until the night…”
(Surah Al-Baqarah 2:187)
This is pure literary imagery
Allahﷻ says, regarding the nights of fasting, that intimacy with your spouses has been made permissible. Earlier, it was not allowed continuously, but then Allahﷻ made it easy—day is restricted, night is open. Then He gives a command—eat and drink until a certain point.
Now Allahﷻ could have said simply— “Eat until Fajr.” Clear. Direct. But instead, He presents it through imagery. Through a visual that the people can see. He says—eat and drink until the white thread becomes distinct from the black thread of dawn.
Why this imagery? Because those people did not have clocks. They did not have timetables. They did not have alarms. How would they know when Fajr begins? By looking at the sky.
So Allahﷻ gives them an image they can see.
At night, everything is dark—like a black thread. As dawn approaches, a thin line of light appears on the horizon. A horizontal streak. Like a white thread stretched across the sky. At first, it is faint. Thin. Just a line. Above it, darkness remains. Below it, that thin light begins to spread. It looks like two threads—one black, one white—separated.
That is the moment. The moment that white thread becomes distinct—you stop eating.
Some companions, when this verse was revealed, took it literally. They placed an actual white thread and a black thread under their pillow and kept checking them in the night. But in the darkness, both looked the same. They could not distinguish them.
So they came to the Prophet ﷺ and asked. And he explained—the white thread is not an actual thread. It is the light of dawn. The black thread is the darkness of night.
Look at the beauty of this expression. Instead of giving a technical time, Allahﷻ gives a visual sign. Something natural. Something observable. Something that even without tools, anyone can understand.
Why call it a thread? Because that light appears like a stretched line across the horizon—thin, elongated, like a rope pulled from one end to another. A horizontal streak, not vertical. A line drawn across the sky.
And as time passes, that line grows, expands, until the sun rises.
So Allahﷻ teaches a law—but through imagery. Through literary beauty. Through something the eye can see and the mind can grasp.
This is the power of the Qur’an. It does not just command—it shows. It does not just instruct—it makes you see the moment.
And through this, even a simple act like stopping food at dawn becomes connected to reflection, observation, and awareness of the natural world.
This too is part of its literary elegance when reflecting on the precision of the Qur’anic expression; when Allahﷻ describes the light of dawn as a “thread,” it is not random. It is because that light actually appears like a thread—thin, stretched, and elongated across the horizon. It is not spread everywhere at once, not a flood of light, but a narrow line, a delicate streak, like a rope pulled tight across the sky. So Allahﷻ chooses a word that the human eye can immediately relate to. This is not just instruction—it is imagery, it is experience, it is literary beauty.
Eating the flesh of his dead brother
And in the same way, in Surah Al-Hujurat, Allahﷻ presents another example—one that strikes the heart, shakes the conscience, and leaves a deep imprint on the human mind.
“O you who believe, avoid much suspicion. Indeed, some suspicion is sin. And do not spy nor backbite one another. Would one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? You would hate it. And fear Allah; indeed, Allah is Accepting of repentance and Merciful.”
(Surah Al-Hujurat 49:12)
Allahﷻ speaks about backbiting. A common act. A casual habit. Something people do without thinking. So Allahﷻ does not merely say, “Do not backbite.” That would be understood—but not deeply felt.
Instead, Allahﷻ asks a question. Would any one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother?
Look at the force of this image. Not just eating flesh. Not just eating human flesh. But the flesh of your own brother. And not just that—his dead body. Lifeless. Helpless. Unable to respond.
The moment a person hears this, what happens inside him? Instantly, disgust. Natural revulsion. A deep, uncontrollable rejection. The mind recoils. The heart withdraws. No one needs to be taught that this is horrible. It is instinctively hated.
And that is exactly the point.
Because when Allahﷻ compares backbiting to this act, He is not just informing—you already knew backbiting is wrong. He is making you feel it. He is making you hate it. He is planting a deep aversion within you so that the next time you are about to speak about someone behind their back, this image flashes in your mind.
Why “dead brother”? Why this specific description?
Because when you speak about someone in his absence, he is like someone who is not present—like someone who cannot defend himself. If he were there, he could respond. He could clarify. He could correct. He could deny. But when he is absent, he is silent. Helpless. Just like the dead.
So, you are speaking about someone who cannot defend himself. Just like a dead body cannot resist. And you are consuming his honor—just like someone consuming flesh.
This is why the comparison is so precise. It captures the reality of the act—not just its outward form, but its inner cruelty.
And understand another layer. In Islam, a person’s honor is sacred—just like his life and his wealth. To harm someone’s body is a crime. To take his wealth is a crime. And to destroy his honor is also a crime. The Prophet ﷺ made this clear—that your blood, your wealth, and your honor are all sacred.
So, when you backbite, you are not doing something small. You are violating something sacred. You are attacking a person in his absence. You are consuming what belongs to him—his dignity.
That is why Allahﷻ uses such a powerful, shocking image. Because sometimes, only a strong image can break a deep habit. A mild warning may not work. But an image that creates disgust—that changes behavior.
And this is the power of Qur’anic literary expression. It does not just instruct—it transforms.
Then reflect on another reality. In our times, many people know the truth. They recognize what is right. They understand the message. But they remain silent. Why? Because of fear. Because of worldly interests. Because of position, status, comfort.
“If I speak, I may lose something.”
“If I say the truth, people may turn against me.”
“If I stand firm, I may face consequences.”
So, they choose silence.
Mute and Speaking Truth – Silence and speech
And Allahﷻ gives an example for this as well. In Surah An-Nahl, He presents two men.
“And Allah presents an example of two men: one of them is mute and unable to do anything, while he is a burden to his guardian—wherever he directs him, he brings no good. Is he equal to one who commands justice and is on a straight path?”
(Surah An-Nahl 16:76)
This is part of a powerful rhetorical example where Allah ﷻ contrasts:
- A helpless, unproductive person (symbolizing false gods / disbelief)
- With someone who stands for justice and guidance (symbolizing truth and guidance)
One is mute—unable to speak, unable to understand, unable to benefit. A burden on his master. Wherever he is sent, he brings no good. The other is a man who stands upon justice. Who speaks truth. Who calls towards what is right. Who is upright, firm, active. Are they equal?
This question itself carries the answer. Of course not.
So, what is Allahﷻ teaching? The one who knows the truth but does not speak it, who has the ability but does not use it, who understands but does not convey—it is as if he is mute. As if he has no voice. No impact. No benefit.
What is the use of knowledge if it is not spoken? What is the use of understanding if it is hidden? A person may have a tongue—but if he does not speak truth, it is as if he has none. He may have ears—but if he does not act upon what he hears, it is as if he is deaf.
On the other hand, the one who speaks truth—regardless of consequence, regardless of loss, regardless of fear—that is the one who is truly alive. Truly functional. Truly beneficial.
So again, through example, Allahﷻ divides humanity into two types. Those who carry truth and convey it. And those who know but remain silent.
Slavery and freedom
And then Allahﷻ gives yet another example—to break the idea of associating others with Him. He compares two individuals. One is a slave—completely owned, with no power, no control, no independence. He cannot give, cannot act freely, cannot own.
“Allah presents an example: a slave who is owned and unable to do a thing, and one whom We have provided with a good provision from Us, so he spends from it secretly and openly. Are they equal? All praise is for Allah. But most of them do not know.”
(Surah An-Nahl 16:75)
The other is a person whom Allahﷻ has provided with wealth—abundantly. And he spends freely, openly, secretly, benefiting others.
Are these two equal? No.
Then how can you take powerless beings—who own nothing, control nothing—and place them alongside Allahﷻ, the One who gives, who provides, who sustains, who controls everything? Through simple human examples, Allahﷻ makes profound theological truths clear. He brings the abstract into the visible. He takes what you see daily and uses it to explain what you fail to understand.
This is the beauty of the Qur’an. Every example is layered. Every image is purposeful. Every comparison is precise.
So, whether it is foam and water, or fire and metal, or dawn and threads, or backbiting and flesh, or silence and speech, or slavery and freedom—each example is a mirror.
A mirror asking you—where do you stand?
Are you like the foam, or like the water?
Are you consuming others, or protecting them?
Are you silent, or speaking truth?
Are you choosing appearance, or choosing reality?
These are not just words. These are questions meant to reshape how you think, how you judge, how you live.
And this is the essence of Qur’anic literary elegance—it does not just tell you what is right. It makes you see it, feel it, and live by it.