Introduction

The modern Muslim lives amidst a rush of change, surrounded by voices that call for progress yet seldom pause to ask: progress towards what, and guided by whom? In every age, clarity begins where confusion ends, and this begins when we look to the Prophet ﷺ not merely for rulings, but for meaning.

It is upon those who carry the message: our scholars, leaders, and seekers of knowledge, to recalibrate their engagement with the tradition of Islam through in-depth understanding, not only narration, and through insight, not mere repetition. This is necessary because the strength of a community rests upon the depth of its guidance, and guidance itself depends on how well its bearers comprehend the Messenger they emulate.

In this light, fiqh al-taʾassī (فقه التأسي), the jurisprudence of emulation, is not a slogan but a methodology: a call to follow the Prophet ﷺ with awareness of his context, his purposes, and the divine objectives his example was meant to realise. It is a discipline that calls for vision, discernment, intelligent following, and humility before revelation, not blind repetition.

The Meaning and Depth of Emulation

Emulation entails an effort to match a person or achievement, typically by imitation. However, from the perspective of jurisprudential methodology (uṣūl al-fiqh) and the application of our sources as embodied by the Messenger ﷺ, emulation is not simply to copy. True taʾassī requires fiqh (precise comprehension) of why a Prophetic act was done, the context in which it was chosen, and the higher purpose it served.

It is a matter that begins in the heart and mind before it appears upon the limbs, for every action is born from a vision, and every outward behaviour reflects an inward understanding. There exists, therefore, a world of behaviour (ʿālam al-taṣarrufāt) and a world of conceptions/paradigms (ʿālam al-taṣawwurāt), with the latter preceding the former.

In simpler terms, what we do flows from how we see. Our actions are shaped by the ideas, emotions, and convictions that live inside us. If our understanding of faith is shallow, our practice of it will be shallow as well. When a person’s perception of the Prophet ﷺ is limited to a set of external habits, imitation becomes a mechanical movement without meaning. But when one’s conception is clear and the heart understands why he did what he did, and what values guided him; then following him becomes transformative.

It is this clarity of perception that turns habit into worship and repetition into reflection. Without it, emulation risks becoming hollow mimicry. With it, every act becomes a conscious step towards prophetic character.

All Muslims agree that the most complete and perfect exemplar is the Messenger of Allah ﷺ, for in him all noble traits reached their ultimate completion. He is not simply the greatest among people, but the very definition of what it means to live with purpose, mercy, balance, and beauty.

كيف ترقَى رُقِيَّك الأنبياءُ يا سماءً ما طاولتها سماءُ لم يساووك في عُلاك وقد حا لَ سَناً منك دونهم وسَناءُ

How can the prophets ever attain your elevation? O sky, no other sky has reached your height. None equalled you in your loftiness, for a radiance from you stood between them and your splendour.

These verses, penned by al-Būṣayrī رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ, capture what hearts have felt for centuries, that the Prophet ﷺ was a light beyond comparison, the one through whom human character reached its peak. His imagery speaks to something our generation still longs for: a model of excellence that transcends the noise of trends and opinions.

When the poem says that “no sky has reached your height,” it is not exaggeration, but recognition that every prophet was noble, yet the Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ gathered within himself every perfected virtue. His life was not a list of miracles but a pattern of balance: strength without harshness, humility without weakness, dignity without arrogance, worship without withdrawal from the world.

For a generation often searching for authenticity, this is the key to fiqh al-taʾassī. Emulating the Prophet ﷺ does not mean dressing like a seventh-century Arab or speaking in classical tones. It means striving for his integrity when no one is watching, his patience under pressure, his warmth in friendship, and his courage in upholding truth. To study fiqh al-taʾassī is to learn how to live the evidences of Islam with understanding, true to substance and not mere imitation, and to bring applied Prophetic values into today’s context with the same compassion, justice, and excellence that defined him. In other words, preserving the identity of Islam, the faith of īmān, and the path of the Sunnah, even when the form differs, because the spirit of the law remains constant, though time and place may change.

Zuhd: A Misunderstood Example

Having spoken about the fiqh of emulation as a way of seeing with perception before doing, it helps to ground this idea in something tangible. To understand how perception shapes practice, let us take one example from our spiritual heritage: the concept of zuhd (asceticism). It is one of the most cited traits of the Prophet ﷺ and the early generations, yet also one of the most misunderstood.

When many hear the word zuhd, they imagine poverty, self-denial, or rejection of every comfort. Some even equate it with sadness or deprivation. But fiqh al-taʾassī teaches us to ask what the Prophet ﷺ intended by his simplicity, and why he lived as he did. His restraint was not rejection of the world; rather, it was mastery over it.

How could this not be so, when the Qurʾān itself honours the adornments of life?

Consider the following verse:

قُلْ مَنْ حَرَّمَ زِينَةَ اللّٰهِ الَّتِي أَخْرَجَ لِعِبَادِهِ وَالطَّيِّبَاتِ مِنَ الرِّزْقِ (الأعراف ٧:٣٢)

Say: Who has forbidden the adornment of Allah which He has produced for His servants and the good things of provision?

Following the discourse of my intended message, this would entail that before inviting people to emulate the Prophet’s zuhd, we must clarify what it truly means, and in doing so, highlight that it was never a call to reject beauty or comfort, but a call to use them with gratitude and moderation.

In our history, we witness different angles of the zuhd of the Messenger ﷺ manifested in our role models. Imām Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ, for example, represented one expression of zuhd: that of austerity and discipline, while Sufyān al-Thawrī رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ embodied another: zuhd joined with gratitude and balance. He (Sufyān) would travel with roasted meat and falūdhaj,^cite{1}, and on one occasion ate well and then stood the night in prayer, saying:

“When a donkey’s feed is increased, its work increases.”^cite{2}

His zuhd was not rejection of blessings, but a focus on its correct application, i.e. a heart unattached, a body energised for worship.

Al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ, another of the great ascetics, was described physically and spiritually with admiration. Al-Aṣmaʿī narrated from his father:

ما رأيت زندًا أعرض من زند الحسن البصري، كان عرضه شبرًا.

“I have never seen a forearm broader than that of al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī; its width was a span.”^cite{3}

He was further praised in the following verse of poetry:

عَرْضُ زَنْدِ الحَسَنِ البَصْرِيِّ شِبْرٌ فَتَعَجَّبْ ذَا مَعَ الزُّهْدِ، فَمَا ظَنُّكَ لَوْ كَانَ تَسَبَّبَ

The width of al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī’s arm was a span. How wondrous for an ascetic! What if he had laboured for worldly gain!

Accordingly, our scholars taught us, upon the paradigm of embodying the spirit of the collective teachings of Islam regarding this topic, that gratitude and patience are the twin pillars of moderation:

الزهد أن لا يغلب الحلال شكرك، ولا الحرام صبرك؛ إذا اقتنيت فاشكر، وإذا افتقرت فاصبر

“True asceticism is that the lawful does not overcome your gratitude, nor the unlawful your patience: when you possess, be thankful; when deprived, be patient.”^cite{4}

Through such examples, we see that zuhd is not about withdrawing from life, but refining one’s relationship with it. i.e. owning without being owned, and using without becoming consumed. The early ascetics were not escaping the world, but perfecting how they moved within it as per the context and guidance they understood from the actions and teachings of the Messenger ﷺ regarding this topic. That is the fiqh of emulation in action.

ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb and the Lands of Iraq: A Lesson in Applied Emulation

If we advance our discourse with an example from the realm of Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), one of the most striking examples of fiqh al-taʾassī (emulating the Prophet ﷺ with understanding rather than imitation) appears in the policy of ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb رَضِيَ اللهُ عَنْهُ after the Muslim armies entered Iraq.

The newly conquered region, known as the Sawād (the fertile black-soiled lands between the Tigris and Euphrates), became the subject of debate among the Companions. Some wished to divide the land as war-booty among the soldiers who had fought, just as the spoils of Khaybar had been distributed during the Prophet’s ﷺ time.

ʿUmar رَضِيَ اللهُ عَنْهُ, however, saw further ahead. He recognised that these were not small oases but vast, cultivated lands capable of sustaining the Muslim treasury for generations. He feared that dividing them now would enrich a few and cause this potential economy to be then consolidated by the heirs of those few, but impoverish the ummah later. Reflecting on the Qurʾānic verse:

وَالَّذِينَ جَاءُوا مِنْ بَعْدِهِمْ 

“And those who come after them.”

(Sūrat al-Ḥashr: 59: 10)

He reasoned, as per the directive of this verse, that future generations had a right to this wealth. Eventually, he ruled that the lands should remain with their cultivators, who would pay kharāj (a form of land tax on conquered territory that remained under local ownership, cite ^{5}), and that this revenue would be placed in the bayt al-māl (the public treasury of the Muslims) to benefit all citizens, both now and in the future. ^cite{6}

Did he go against the guidance of the Messenger ﷺ ?!

No, as per the agreement of the vast majority of the companions (may Allah be pleased with them all). It was considered a visionary act of leadership grounded in the objectives of Sharīʿah: preventing harm, preserving justice, and securing long-term benefit for the community.

Scholars have observed that the Prophet’s ﷺ decision to distribute the lands of Khaybar and ʿUmar رَضِيَ اللهُ عَنْهُ policy concerning the Sawād of Iraq each reflected what was most fitting for the circumstances of their respective times.

The Prophet ﷺ acted in the context of a newly formed community, where strengthening the morale of the soldiers and rewarding sacrifice served the greater good. ʿUmar رَضِيَ اللهُ عَنْهُ, on the other hand, governed an established and expanding state; his concern was the equitable preservation of wealth for future generations as well.

In both cases, the guiding principle was the same: to realise the maṣlaḥah (benefit) intended by the Sharīʿah. What differed was the form of its application. Thus, the matter was one of context, not contradiction, i.e. a change in means, not in moral or legal foundation.

This is the essence of fiqh al-taʾassī: to emulate with understanding, to discern the wisdom behind prophetic actions and apply their objectives in light of changing realities, rather than replicating their outward forms in isolation from their original contexts.

An example closer to the masses

So far, it has been established that to revive fiqh al-taʾassī is to restore clarity to the act of following and studying evidences with insight and purpose.

Another example of this can be derived from the incident when the Prophet ﷺ guided his Companions to express joy at weddings. When they asked Him ﷺ what to say, He said:

أتَيناكُم أتَيناكُم فحيُّونا نحيِّيكُم لولا الذَّهبُ الأحمرُ ما حُلَّت بوادِيكم لولا الحِنطةُ السَّمراءُ ما سمِنَت عَذارِيكم.

We have come to you, we have come to you; greet us and we shall greet you! Were it not for the red gold, your valleys would not be adorned; Were it not for the brown wheat, your maidens would not have grown full and fair.^cite{7}

Analysing this incident, we learn that the purpose of his guidance was to encourage wholesome celebration, not to preserve specific lines of poetry. We need not repeat those very words at every wedding or in our times, but rather speak in ways that fit our language, culture, and time, provided they carry the same virtuous intent.

Breaking the psychological barrier

Ibn al-Qayyim رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ wrote that the Prophet’s ﷺ practice in dress was simply to wear what was customary among his people, Yemeni cloaks, patterned garments, shirts, and trousers. He ate what was available, never out of arrogance or disdain. The lesson is timeless: the Prophet ﷺ lived as one among his people, accessible and relatable, embodying perfection through normality.

Reviving the Prophetic model today requires breaking the psychological barrier between generations. Suppose emulation remains confined to reading biographies without connecting their meanings to the world our youth inhabit, in dress, speech, creative expression, and even in art or drama. In that case, we risk making the Sunnah feel remote. However, when expressed through contemporary mediums that stir the mind and heart, the message of example becomes alive again.

We must, therefore, be responsible with the fiqh of emulation so that it draws the young closer, allowing them to see that following the Messenger ﷺ is not beyond their reach but within their daily life, being true to the guidance of the Qur'an in which Allah Most High says:

وَمَا أَرْسَلْنَا مِنْ رَسُولٍ إِلَّا بِلِسَانِ قَوْمِهِ 

We sent no Messenger except in the language of his people.

(Sūrat ʾIbrāhīm: 14:4)

This “language” extends beyond speech; it is the idiom of culture, comprehension, and lived reality. To speak the language of one’s people is to present timeless guidance through forms they recognise. Only then can the prophetic example shine as a living model that guides minds, hearts, and societies toward Allah.

Disclaimer & Conclusion

The fiqh of emulation is not a study of nostalgia, nor a licence for individual experimentation. It is a scholarly framework and a disciplined effort to understand how the Prophet ﷺ is to be followed with insight, fidelity, and respect for the divine intent behind his actions.

It calls the learned to think with balance: to distinguish between what belongs to the timeless essence of the Sunnah and what belongs to its historical form.

To follow the Prophet ﷺ intelligently does not mean reinventing the Sunnah according to modern taste; it means applying its principles through the lenses of knowledge, consultation, and sound method. The ʿulamāʾ are the inheritors of the prophets because they translate revelation into lived reality, not by opinion or impulse, but through disciplined understanding (ijtihād), deference to the sources, and humility before Allah.

The laity, therefore, are not asked to reinterpret but to trust, to learn, and to live the Sunnah under the guidance of those grounded in knowledge. Fiqh al-taʾassī is not the path of subjective reasoning but of qualified reasoning. A revival of vision among scholars and leaders who can rearticulate the Prophetic example for their communities with wisdom and context.

For those who bear the mantle of knowledge: our imams, teachers, and students of sacred law, this framework is both a responsibility and an invitation to make the Prophetic model accessible without diminishing it, relevant without reshaping it, and timeless without freezing it.

If we can achieve that balance, then the Sunnah will once again illuminate not only our rituals but our reasoning, not only our speech but our systems, guiding the ʿālim in his teaching, the khaṭīb on his pulpit, and the believer in his journey to Allah, the sum-total of which will preserve Islām and the Sunnah as a timeless mercy.

وَمَا أَرْسَلْنَاكَ إِلَّا رَحْمَةً لِّلْعَالَمِينَ (الأنبياء ٢١:١٠٧)

And We have not sent you except as a mercy to all creation.

(Sūrat al-Anbiyā: 21:107)

May Allah make us of those who emulate him ﷺ not only in form but in essence; who safeguard the sources of Islam with knowledge, embody it with humility, and transmit it with mercy so that through our scholarship, leadership, and sincerity, others may find their way back to him and, through him, to Allah.

And Allah knows best.

begin{footnote}

1.  Ibn al-Jawzī, Ṣayd al-Khāṭir, ed. Shāmilah, entry: «وكان سفيان الثوري يسافر، وفي سفرته الحمل المشوي والفالوذج».
2. Reported in later ādāb collections (e.g. وثُلث لطعامك): «قيل إن سفيان الثوري رَحِمَهُ اللّٰهُ أكل ليلة فقال: إن الحمار إذا زيد في علفه زيد في عمله، فقام تلك الليلة حتى أصبح».
3. Al-Dhahabī, Siyar Aʿlām al-Nubalāʾ, vol. 4, p. 572 (Al-Risālah ed.).
4. Cf. Ibn Abī Dunyā, Al-Zuhd; Ibn ʿAbd Rabbih, Al-ʿIqd al-Farīd, 1/89.
5. Kharāj — a land-tax levied on agricultural land under Muslim rule; ownership stayed with cultivators, revenue used for public welfare.
6. Bayt al-māl — the state treasury collecting zakāh, kharāj, and public funds.
7. Narrated by ʿĀʾishah رَضِيَ اللهُ عَنْهَا, the Mother of the Believers. Al-Albānī, Ādāb al-Zifāf, no. 109, classified the narration as weak but noted an additional chain that lends it support. Reported by al-Ṭabarānī in al-Muʿjam al-Awsaṭ (3:315), Abū Nuʿaym in al-Amālī (no. 64) — their wording being identical — and by Ibn Mājah (no. 1900) with a similar version.

end{footnote}