There was the time when he called for Ali, who spent
most of those days studying and praying in the mosque,
but Aisha lobbied instead for her father. “Wouldn’t you
rather see Abu Bakr?” she said. Her cowife Hafsa
countered by suggesting her own father. “Wouldn’t you
rather see Omar?” she asked. Overwhelmed by their
insistence, Muhammad waved assent. Both Abu Bakr
and Omar were called for; Ali was not.
Cajoling a mortally sick man into doing as they
wanted may seem unbecoming, even heartless, but who
could blame these young wives for pushing their own
agenda, for promoting the interests of their fathers over
those of other possible successors like Ali? They faced a
daunting future, and they knew it.
They were about to be widowed, and widowed forever.
They were fated, that is, to become professional widows.
It was right there in the revelation that would be part of
Sura 33 of the Quran. “The Prophet is closer to the
Faithful than their own selves, and his wives are their
mothers,” it said. “You must not speak ill of the
Messenger of God, nor shall you ever wed his wives after
him. This would surely be a great oʃense in the eyes of
God.”
If the Prophet’s wives were indeed the Mothers of the
Faithful, to marry any of them even after his death
would be tantamount to incest.
This ban on remarriage went against the grain of