Then your hearts hardened (qasat) after that, so they became like stones, or even harder in hardness (qaswah). And indeed, among the stones there is that from which rivers burst forth; and among them there is that which splits open, so water comes out from it; and among them there is that which falls down out of reverent awe (khashyah) of The God (Allah). And The God (Allah) is not heedless (ghafil) of what you do.
This verse comes after a chain of signs: after covenant, command, delay, the slaughter of the cow, the hidden killing, the bringing out of truth, the reminder of giving life to the dead, and the invitation to use reason. So the natural expectation was that hearts would soften. But the Qur'an says: “Then your hearts hardened after that” (thumma qasat qulubukum min ba'di dhalik).
The weight of the verse is in this “after that”. That means hardness of heart did not arise from the absence of a sign; it arose after the coming of the sign. Sometimes a human being does not know and is searching for the path. But sometimes he sees, hears, experiences, and still becomes more closed. Hardness of heart begins here: where the heart, after seeing truth, closes the path of truth upon itself.
Hardness (qaswah) is not only hardness. In this word there is also dryness and loss of freshness. A hard heart is a heart to which truth reaches, but in which truth does not take root. Reminder reaches it, but does not split it open. The sign stands before it, but it is not shaken from within.
Such a heart may still speak. It may reason. It may put the name of religion on its tongue and defend its sacred past. But before truth, it is not alive. It sees the sign, but does not let it in.
The Qur'an compares hardened hearts to stone. But it does not leave the comparison there. If the verse had only said that your hearts are like stone, stone would have become only a sign of hardness. But the Qur'an immediately opens stone itself: from stones rivers burst forth, from stones water comes out, and among stones there is that which falls down out of reverent awe of The God.
So stone in the Qur'anic view is not only a symbol of hardness. Stone, with all its hardness, still has a way of being opened within the command of God. It can split. It can become a path for water. It can fall from its high place.
This image has a background in this same surah. In verse 60, Musa was commanded to strike the stone with his staff, and twelve springs burst forth from it. The same people saw water come out from stone and drank from it. Now the Qur'an says their hearts, after all those signs, became like stone, rather harder than stone.
This reminder is not simple. It is as though the verse says: the stone, which was inanimate, split by the command of God and gave water for you; but the living heart of the human being, after seeing the signs, remained closed to truth. Stone became a path for your thirst, but your hearts did not become a path for truth.
Here the Qur'an's comparison is very precise. Stone does not create water. Stone is not an independent source of life. But when it splits within the order of God, it becomes a passage for water. Water comes out from it, but water belongs to The God. Measure, pressure, path, split, and flow are all within His dominion.
The human heart is not the creator of guidance either. Guidance is from God. But the heart can let the way open or close it. If no split remains in the heart for truth, the water of life does not pass through it. Such a heart becomes a dam instead of a passage. Instead of splitting, it remains closed. Instead of coming down, it stands upon the height of its arrogance.
So when the verse speaks of rivers and water, the purpose is not that stone owns life. The purpose is that even the hardness of stone, within the order of The God, can become a path of life. But the hard heart neither creates life itself, nor allows life to pass through it.
Among all these images, the key of the verse lies in “from reverent awe of The God” (min khashyat Allah). The verse does not say that stone falls only because of pressure, erosion, or a meaningless accident. The Qur'an expresses this falling in relation to reverent awe of The God. This very expression raises the verse above a simple natural comparison.
Reverent awe (khashyah) should not be translated only as “fear.” Fear can be of darkness, an enemy, poverty, the future, people, or power. But reverent awe in the Qur'an is not blind and uncomprehending fear. Reverent awe comes from recognition: from seeing greatness, presence, truth, account, and the command of God.
When a human being takes the greatness of The God seriously, his heart does not remain reckless. When he takes the account seriously, wrongdoing does not become light for him. When he takes the signs seriously, he does not pass by them indifferently. When he knows that he is standing before truth, he cannot always live with arrogance, concealment, and justification.
For this reason, the Qur'an connects reverent awe with knowledge: “Only those of His servants who have knowledge have reverent awe of God” (innama yakhsha Allah min 'ibadihi al-'ulama). True reverent awe rises from recognition. But not every knowledge brings reverent awe. A person may have abundant information, yet his heart may become harder. He may make knowledge a tool of debate, power, superiority-seeking, or display. Such knowledge does not soften the heart.
Knowledge that reaches reverent awe places the human being face to face with his own position. It makes him aware of death, account, blessing, responsibility, mercy, and the justice of God. Such knowledge does not make the human being magnify himself; it awakens him and makes him responsible. This knowledge brings the heart down from arrogance.
Reverent awe is close to fear, but it is not identical with fear. Fear is broader. A human being fears danger, fears an enemy, fears the future, fears the result of his own action. But in reverent awe, recognition of greatness is present. Someone may fear punishment, but still not have reverent awe; because he is only fleeing pain, not coming down before truth.
Reverent awe means the heart has recognized the greatness of truth. Such a heart can no longer live recklessly. It cannot cover truth and consider itself at peace. It cannot commit injustice and make it normal. It cannot take account of people more than God and still imagine itself humble before God.
For this reason, the Qur'an also connects reverent awe with the unseen. There are those who have reverent awe of their Lord in the unseen. That means they do not take account only when people are watching, only when punishment is near, or only when disgrace has become certain. In hidden places too, the presence of God is serious for them.
Reverent awe in the unseen holds the human being in the very place where no human eye is watching. When no one sees, he still does not betray. When he has power, he does not do injustice. When he can hide truth, he fears hiding it. This is precisely what the hard heart is deprived of.
The hard heart takes more account of people's gaze than of God's gaze. It fears reputation more than betrayal of truth. It trembles more at losing status than at the extinguishing of light within its own heart. Such a heart may have many fears, but divine reverent awe is not alive in it.
In another place, the Qur'an says: “Do not have reverent awe of the people; have reverent awe of Me”. This statement shows that one of the great obstacles to reverent awe is captivity to fear of people: fear of people's judgment, fear of tribe, fear of inherited religion, fear of elders, fear of power, fear of losing status.
When these fears govern the heart, a human being may know the truth but fear following it. He may know, but not speak. He may see truth, but stand aside. Here there is fear, but there is no reverent awe; because reverent awe brings the human being closer to truth, not to opportunism.
Reverent awe is also connected with humility and soft submission (khushu'). Humility and soft submission means coming down, becoming soft, and being humble before truth. If reverent awe is real, it must lower something in the human being: arrogance, self-superiority, stubbornness, the desire to hide, and boldness in sin.
From here, “it falls down from reverent awe of The God” (yahbitu min khashyat Allah) becomes meaningful. The verse speaks of a stone that falls down from reverent awe of God. In the Qur'anic image, stone comes down from a height, but the hard heart does not come down from the height of arrogance. This heart remains standing, even when truth has become clear before it.
This connection becomes clearer in another verse: if this Qur'an were sent down upon a mountain, you would see it humbled and split apart from reverent awe of God. There, the mountain becomes humble and split apart from reverent awe of God. Here, the stone falls down from reverent awe of God. So reverent awe in the Qur'an is not only a hidden feeling. It has an effect.
Reverent awe splits open. It brings down. It softens. It shakes arrogance. It breaks the heaviness of self-admiration. If a mountain becomes humbled and split before the Qur'an, and stone falls down from reverent awe of God, what place does a heart have if it still remains hard after the signs of God?
Here “or even harder in hardness” (aw ashaddu qaswah) becomes clear. The heart becomes harder than stone when it is neither split open by a sign, nor receives water from truth, nor comes down through reverent awe, nor reaches humility through knowledge, nor corrects its action through remembrance of the account.
The path to reverent awe does not pass through blindly frightening people. Reverent awe does not arise from religious shouting, social pressure, meaningless threats, or thoughtless imitation. Reverent awe arises from facing truth sincerely.
The human being must see the signs, not only hear them. He must reflect deeply in the Qur'an, not only repeat words. He must see the world as sign, not only as raw matter. He must take death, account, blessing, wrongdoing, mercy, and responsibility seriously. He must know that nothing hidden is hidden from God, and no action is lost with Him.
One path to reverent awe is right knowledge: knowledge that awakens the human being and makes him responsible. Another path is remembrance and continuous reminder. If the heart remains far from remembrance for a long time, it slowly becomes dry. The Qur'an warns the believers: has the time not come for their hearts to become humble for the remembrance of God and what has come down of truth? And not to become like those who were given the Book before them; time became long upon them, so their hearts hardened.
This verse shows that hardness is not only the problem of earlier people. It is the danger of every believing community. A person may keep the name of religion for years, while his heart is no longer moved by remembrance. He may preserve the Book, while truth finds no way into him. The appearance may remain, while reverent awe gradually leaves the heart.
Another path to reverent awe is a human being's honesty with himself. As long as a person only defends himself, justifies his error, throws the blame for sin on others, and sacrifices truth for reputation, reverent awe does not awaken in him.
Reverent awe comes close when a human being is able to stand before truth and speak honestly: if I have erred, I must return. If my people have erred, I will not sacrifice truth for my people. If my earlier understanding was incomplete, I will correct it. If I have hidden something, before it is exposed, I will return to truth.
But the obstacles to reverent awe are very near. Heedlessness is one of the greatest of them: that a human being lives, works, speaks, even practices religion, while the presence of God is not alive in his decisions. Arrogance is another obstacle: a heart that sees itself high does not come down.
Ethnic, religious, familial, or group fanaticism is also an obstacle to reverent awe, because it forces the human being to defend his group, not truth. Fear of people is an obstacle to reverent awe because it binds the heart to people's eyes. Following desire is also an obstacle to reverent awe because a human being accepts truth only to the point where it does not clash with his desire.
Among the signs of the absence of reverent awe is that a human being hears a sign, but changes nothing in action. He does wrong and says God is Forgiving. He covers truth and considers himself religious. He fears people and calls it wisdom. He flees from correcting his understanding and names that loyalty to tradition.
Sometimes the absence of reverent awe appears in this form: the human being is harsh toward the weak, but soft before power. He trembles for his own reputation, but not for truth. In such a heart there is fear, but the direction of fear has changed. It fears many things, but it does not have reverent awe of The God.
In contrast, the sign of reverent awe is that a human being remains changeable before truth. When a verse makes him aware of error, he does not resist. When a truth becomes clear against himself, he does not bury it. When he has power, he fears the account of God. When no one sees, he still does not betray. When he does not know something, he does not claim certainty.
Reverent awe does not paralyze the human being; it makes him responsible. Reverent awe does not kill the heart; it keeps it alive. Reverent awe does not stop the human being from movement; rather, it sets the direction of movement right. A heart that has reverent awe does not run from truth, even if truth is against itself.
With this view, verse 74 is not only a historical rebuke of the Children of Israel. It is a mirror for every heart that becomes hard after seeing signs. If a human being reads this verse and speaks only about earlier people, he has moved away from the verse itself.
The question of the verse to every reader is this: has your heart become softer after seeing signs, or harder? Has truth opened a way in you? Does anything of the water of life pass through you? Have you come down from your arrogance through reverent awe of God? Or do you still see every sign and remain the same?
The end of the verse returns us from the image of stone, water, and reverent awe to the field of action: “And The God is not heedless of what you do” (wa-ma Allah bi-ghafilin 'amma ta'malun). This ending shows that hardness of heart is not only an inward and hidden state. Hardness of heart becomes visible in action.
The hard heart shows itself in concealment. In blame-shifting. In wrongdoing. In distortion. In injustice. In delay. In fear of people. In indifference toward truth. A human being may be able to hide the condition of his heart from people, but his action sooner or later removes the covering.
So the verse begins with the heart, speaks of stone and water and reverent awe, and ends with the human being's action. This order matters. If the heart hardens, it corrupts action. And action removes the covering from the condition of the heart.
God is not heedless of what you do: not of concealments, not of delays, not of injustices, and not of the hardness of heart that hides behind the appearance of religion. What the heart has closed inside comes out in action. And The God is heedless of none of it.
The lesson of the verse is this: the hardness of stone is no excuse for the hardness of the heart. Stone, with all its hardness, within the command of God, gives way, splits, water comes out from it, and it falls down from reverent awe of The God. But if the human heart remains closed after the signs of God, it may become even harder than stone.
Such a heart neither lets the water of life pass through, nor splits open before truth, nor comes down from arrogance. And The God is not heedless of what such hearts do.