Fatir · Makki · ayah 18 of 45

Fatir 35:18

وَلَا تَزِرُ وَازِرَةٌ وِزْرَ أُخْرَىٰ ۚ وَإِن تَدْعُ مُثْقَلَةٌ إِلَىٰ حِمْلِهَا لَا يُحْمَلْ مِنْهُ شَىْءٌ وَلَوْ كَانَ ذَا قُرْبَىٰٓ ۗ إِنَّمَا تُنذِرُ ٱلَّذِينَ يَخْشَوْنَ رَبَّهُم بِٱلْغَيْبِ وَأَقَامُوا۟ ٱلصَّلَوٰةَ ۚ وَمَن تَزَكَّىٰ فَإِنَّمَا يَتَزَكَّىٰ لِنَفْسِهِۦ ۚ وَإِلَى ٱللَّهِ ٱلْمَصِيرُ

“And no bearer of burdens will bear the burden of another. And if a heavily laden soul calls [another] to [carry some of] its load, nothing of it will be carried, even if he should be a close relative. You can only warn those who fear their Lord unseen and have established prayer. And whoever purifies himself only purifies himself for [the benefit of] his soul. And to Allāh is the [final] destination.”

Saheeh International

Essence

No relative can lift a gram of another's load on the Day; today, warning helps the reverent, and purity profits only its owner.

A reflection

Every reason to carry, and nothing carried

Mile twenty-three of a city marathon. Two friends who trained together all winter are running side by side, and both have hit the wall. One gasps, 'Can you take my bottle?' It weighs almost nothing. The other looks at her with real love and shakes her head. 'I can't. I can barely carry myself.'

This ayah has two sentences that sound alike, and one commentary asks what separates them. The first, no bearer bears another's burden, speaks of justice: no one is punished for someone else's sin. The second speaks of rescue. Even when a soul begs for help, none comes.

Another commentary lays out how carefully the second sentence closes every door. A strong person might refuse to carry a pomegranate for you, because you can manage it yourself. So the soul here is muthqala, crushed by its load. A passer-by might ignore someone he does not know. So the one asked is dhā qurbā, a relative. Sometimes help comes without being asked. So she calls out. Every reason anyone has ever had for carrying is present. And still, lā yuḥmal minhu shayʾ: not one thing of it is lifted.

Why? Not because love has died. Because everyone on that Day is under a load of their own. An early report preserved by the commentaries pictures a father asking his son for a single good deed. The son answers that the request is small, but he fears what his father fears. That is the runner at mile twenty-three. The refusal is not cruelty. It is exhaustion that reaches all the way down.

The full entry has 6 more reflections, questions to sit with, and "Live it today" - with the words, the roots and the tafsir alongside. Free, no account, works offline.