Aisha. All we know for certain is that while the advice
he gave Muhammad might be seen by some as
refreshingly forthright, it also seems peculiarly curt.
“There are many women like her,” he said. “God has
freed you from constraints. She is easily replaced.” There
are plenty more ɹsh in the sea, that is. Divorce her and
be rid of the whole affair.
It was the ɹrst open expression of the crack in the
newly formed bedrock of Islam—the jagged break, barely
perceptible at ɹrst, that would develop into a major fault
line. The casual dismissiveness of Ali’s words, the barely
concealed contempt, didn’t just sting but cut to the bone.
Yet the casualness is precisely what makes it so humanly
persuasive. That throwaway phrasing, that evident
disdain, that apparent willingness to believe in Aisha’s
inɹdelity—all this she would hold against him as long as
she lived.
There is no record of whatever else Ali may have
advised, though he almost certainly said more. Not only
is the curtness of his response strangely uncharacteristic,
but so too is the fact that it failed to take into account
Muhammad’s dilemma. Divorcing Aisha would solve
nothing, for the rumors of inɹdelity would still stand
unchallenged, eroding Muhammad’s authority.
Resolution could come only by grace of a higher
authority, which was exactly what now happened.
After three weeks of indecision, Muhammad went to