Discussing Hadith In An American Muslim Classroom

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpted from my Qur’an, Hadith, And Hikayat: Exercises In Critical Thinking (2021)

September 13, 2026

 

[Author’s Note:

My commentary below illustrates a central thesis of my 2003 book, An Education System Worthy of Malaysia. That is, genuine education is not the passive absorption of dogma or the rote memorization of authoritative pronouncements, but the active cultivation of critical inquiry.

When our schools and religious institutions reduce learning to uncritical acceptance—where students are expected to nod along to celebrity preachers and ulamas rather than question premises—we produce minds ill-equipped for the complexities of the modern world. In contrast, the Sunday school exercise described below demonstrates that true ilmu (knowledge) emerges when young minds are empowered to synthesize data, cross-examine assumptions against empirical reality, and erase the artificial divide between the sacred and the secular.

If Malaysia aspires for an educational architecture worthy of its youth, it must foster this exact brand of intellectual courage: one that equips students to challenge superficial dogma using history, logic, and modern tools of inquiry.]

 

I used the well-known hadith, “Seek knowledge even if you have to go to China,” as a springboard for discussion in our Sunday school Islamic class here in California years ago. My opening query to the students was straightforward: Was the reference to China literal or metaphorical? In the ancient world, China represented the edge of the known earth—much like Timbuktu served as a proxy for the far horizon in later centuries.

Most students quickly agreed that 7th-century Bedouins were aware of China’s existence. The deeper question, however, was how desert nomads in pre-Islamic Arabia could have known of such a distant civilization. The class paused briefly until one student raised a hand and offered the answer: “The Silk Road!”

Armed with their smartphones, the students immediately pulled up the historical record. The Silk Road had flourished since the 2nd century BC and remained a vital artery of transcontinental commerce well past the 14th century CE. During the Prophet’s lifetime, it was a bustling network of trade routes, several of which crisscrossed the Arabian Peninsula. As a merchant who had led caravans north to Syria, the Prophet,  would naturally have been aware of East Asia and China specifically.

To be clear, what the students gathered in seconds via Google were mere raw facts and isolated data points. The true learning occurred when they exercised their critical faculties to synthesize those facts, draw connections, and build a logical historical narrative.

By contrast, when popular itinerant preachers like Zimbabwe’s Mufti Menk glibly dismiss the possibility of the Prophet having known of China, conservative audiences in Kuala Lumpur nod along in passive assent. It was deeply gratifying to watch a group of American Sunday school pupils dismantle that brand of uncritical dogmatism in real time. They demonstrated what happens when believers apply empirical history and basic logic to religious traditions rather than accepting empty rhetorical pronouncements. The transmission of culture, technology, and ideas along trade routes is a well-established historical reality; ignoring it reflects an intellectual lethargy that runs counter to the spirit of Islamic inquiry.

That led to a more substantive question: What kind of place was China in the 7^th Century from the perspective of an Arabian Prophet?

First, the Prophet, s.a.w., obviously knew that China was not an Arab land. Second, because Islam was then in its infancy and confined to the Arabian Peninsula, China was an unfamiliar, non-Abrahamic civilization. Yet, he explicitly encouraged his followers to travel there in pursuit of knowledge (ilmu).

That reveals two profound insights. First, it underscores the Prophet’s supreme confidence in the intrinsic truth of his message. He had no fear that his followers would lose their faith by exposing themselves to alien cultures. Second, it highlights the paramount position Islam accords to the acquisition of knowledge, regardless of its geographic or cultural origin.

The Prophet, s.a.w., surely recognized that any knowledge Muslims acquired in 7^th Century China would not be theological or ritualistic. The Chinese of that era were celebrated for their mastery of papermaking, silk weaving, metallurgy, and early engineering. By directing his followers to seek such knowledge, the Prophet made no distinction between “religious” and “secular” learning. That rigid dichotomy is a modern, artificial, and ultimately puerile construct that has done immense damage to Muslim minds and culture. All useful knowledge that elevates human life is inherently worth pursuing. They all ultimately originate from Allah.

Now, consider the alternative interpretation: Suppose China was indeed meant purely as a metaphor for the absolute limits of human reach. The modern equivalent—both literal and metaphorical—would be to seek knowledge even if you must venture into outer space. Viewed through that lens, the hadith becomes even more prescient.

When the Soviet Union launched Sputnik in 1957, followed four years later by Yuri Gagarin’s orbital flight, it ignited the space race. President John F. Kennedy famously pledged to land a man on the moon before the decade was out. Critics at the time were quick to denounce the astronomical expense, arguing that funds should be concentrated on immediate problems on Earth, while others warned of the possible militarizing of the cosmos.

Yet today, the technological fallout of that space exploration touches every facet of modern life. Satellite networks enable Global Positioning Systems (GPS) that guide ships and aircraft, allow precision agriculture, and track severe weather. That same space-age technology also allows me to converse face-to-face with my grandchildren across the Pacific Ocean, just as it allowed our local Imam to deliver Friday sermons virtually to our community during the pandemic lockdowns.

There is no boundary to the utility of knowledge. The enduring wisdom of the Prophet – and the central imperative of the Qur’an – is to pursue light wherever it may be found, whether in ancient China, the depths of the oceans, or the far reaches of outer space.

Next:  Schisms Among the Ummah