Kāf – The Sound Theology of Sounds: A Reflection on Divine Unity and Creation

A cunning lettered yet un-lettered friend of mine peered into my heart from behind precise monocles, “How can you claim to conceive your Creator when the cosmos,
cut down,
is but quarks, neutrons and protons?”

I could sense the curious lub-dubbing of her heart crying for answers but I only had the key
to the opening of
questions

So I began narrating my little soliloquy – I am quite renowned for being lonely and loquacious – “Once upon a time before there was Time, He was Alone, a buried Treasure until He desired to share the secret of His secret nature. So, the concealed coveted pearl that He is, erupted, Be-coming to know Himself in a red ruby. Kun! Yes, that was the key. Kun, it is, it became. Kun Faya Kun, the sickle (ﻛـ) that the Kāf of Kun is, wound the canvas of Absolute Non-existence. The Kāf leapt forth, the candescence of its light creating the Nūn of Kun.

Kun. Kun. Kun. Those are the sounds of quarks, electrons and neutrons phizz-whizzing in the energy of the passionate encounter with the Nūn. Some say that if you pay attention close enough, you can hear it. Kun, Kun, Kun…

So, the Kāf said to the Nūn, “I am the malik (Master) and you are mine (malak), I am the sailor and you are the falak (ship).” Love-lāka (were it not for you), Love-lāka (were it not for you), I would not have created the aflāk (the stars).

So, I carry on, you can accuse me blabbering around boisterously. My beloved Ustad at my madrasa warned me against it, in his local tongue he called it kathi. But I rebutted that my ka-thi (literally, a sickle) is the same one he enunciated to teach me the Kāf of two Iyyā-ka’s (Thine only (Iyyāka) we worship and Thine only (Iyyāka) we seek aid from). The same kathi (sickle) that brought bubbling forth creation driving away His Aloneness. The same kathi (sickle again) I hack and slash with to wound this empty canvas. But wait –

“What Kāf do you happen to know?”

“I don’t k-now many: Kafka, King Kunta, Kopiko, Karim’s Cafe and umm… give me a break, Kitkat?! I feel like the cadence of the phizz-whizzing quarks, electrons and neutrons have abandoned me.”

“Nope. Never. The Kāf is never only the numbness of the bilā-kayf (know-not-how), the Kāf is also the Sun of excess compassion of the laysa ka-mithlihi shay’ (there is not-naught like Him) reaching out to you, never abandoning you (ma wadda’aka). The Kāf is the still night wrapping you in its mantle, after finding you (wajadaka) thirsty in the desert without guidance. The Kāf finds you unique and needy, until it gives you the kawthar (the cornucopia of all cornucopias). The Kāf erupts into a delectable discourse with you through the Iyyāka. Do you not trust me? Do you think I am kun-ning? Ask the phizz-whizzing quarks, electrons and neutrons for whom they perform their elaborate dance (Love-lāka, Love-lāka).

Ask them how they tread like butterflies on gossamer strings, ask them how many a wākifa (delicate disaster) has He kafā-ka (saved you) from?

Rabbu-ka (your Lord), rabbu-ka, rabbu-ka, He is.

Ask them how you are camouflaged from the karr (net) of the kamīn (hunter) of catastrophes constricting your kabid (liver)?

Rabbu-ka (your Lord), rabbu-ka, rabbu-ka, He is.

The Rabbu-ka of the Dawn. The Rabbu-ka of mankind. The Rabbu-ka who quarrelled with the malāika (angels) to bring your kunh (essence) with kun (“Be!”) into yakūn (existence). The Rabbu-ka who asked you, “Am I not yours?” “Balā (Yes!)” A “Yes!” to gifts and trials of kun faya kun.

So, do not plant the seed of kufr (ingratitude) deep inside your heart when even your skin cells can’t help but go kun kun kun. Do not let the phizz-whizzing dizzying infinities gharra-ka (deceive you) from your Rabbu-ka, the al-Karīm (The Giver). Do not think that the rim of your kun cleverly escapes the spokes tying you back to the al-Karīm. You are not alone without the Alone. So, shirk the shirk (loving other than Him) of your kibr (arrogance) deafening you to the sonorous rings of the nūn’s of your kun, kun, kun…. and lunge headlong into the hands of the al-Shakūr (The Grateful) and al-Wakīl (The Trustee).

Kun. Faya Kun. Malik. Malak. Nūn. Falak. Aflāk. Yakūn.
Love-lāka. Iyyāka.
Kathi. Kāf. Bilā-kayf. Kafka. Kafā-ka. Rabbu-ka.

Savour that on your tongue. This is a sound theology of sounds, my friend. Kaff (hold back!) the sails of your intellect. Let the winds of Kāf blow mercifully on you. Think with your senses, my friend. Why do we not have olfactory ethics, auditory ontologies or touchy teleologies? If you reckon so, the Kāf will kafā-ka (suffice you) from all kurab (calamities).