The 365 · Verses · Day 249 · Justice
The same rain that strips the bare rock doubles the hilltop garden's harvest.
وَمَثَلُ ٱلَّذِينَ يُنفِقُونَ أَمْوَٰلَهُمُ ٱبْتِغَآءَ مَرْضَاتِ ٱللَّهِ وَتَثْبِيتًا مِّنْ أَنفُسِهِمْ كَمَثَلِ جَنَّةٍۭ بِرَبْوَةٍ أَصَابَهَا وَابِلٌ فَـَٔاتَتْ أُكُلَهَا ضِعْفَيْنِ فَإِن لَّمْ يُصِبْهَا وَابِلٌ فَطَلٌّ ۗ وَٱللَّهُ بِمَا تَعْمَلُونَ بَصِيرٌ
“But those who spend their wealth in order to gain God's approval, and as an affirmation of their own faith, are like a garden on a hill: heavy rain falls and it produces double its normal yield; even if no heavy rain falls, it will still be watered by the dew. God sees all that you do. (Quran 2:265)”
2:265 Read 2:265 with tafsir
Svenska: Men de som ger av vad de äger för att vinna Guds välbehag och för att stärka sin själ kan liknas vid en trädgård, anlagd på en kulle, som om ett slagregn drabbar den ger dubbel skörd och om den undgår slagregn [får glädjas åt] milt duggregn. Gud ser vad ni gör.
The story
Where the previous āyah showed dust washed from bare stone, this one, As-Saadi notes, is its deliberate mirror - the sincere giver's parable. These are people who spend seeking God's pleasure and tathbīt min anfusihim. Ibn Kathīr reads this inner firmness as their certainty that God will reward them, the same conviction the Prophet ﷺ praised in whoever fasts Ramadan with faith and expectation. As-Saadi reads tathbīt as giving from a settled, willing soul, and lists the two diseases their spending is free of: the craving to be seen, and the weak, hesitant heart that gives grudgingly. Their charity, the verse says, is like a garden on a rabwa - a raised ground that Ibn Kathīr, citing the majority, describes as elevated and, per Ibn ʿAbbās and Ad-Daḥḥāk, watered by flowing rivers. When a heavy downpour (wābil) strikes it, it yields double; and if only a light drizzle (ṭall) reaches it, that suffices, because the soil is so good. Ibn Kathīr draws the lesson: the believer's sincere deeds are like this garden - never barren, always accepted and increased, each according to his state. That is the justice this whole cluster has been building toward - a recompense that scales exactly and generously with the sincerity of the heart, so that no honest deed, large or small, is ever wasted.
In the language
Al-Zamakhsharī (al-Kashshāf) unpacks the arresting phrase tathbītan min anfusihim - a strengthening from their own souls. He explains that parting with wealth is uniquely hard on the self, since wealth is, as he puts it, the sibling of the soul; and precisely because giving it is so difficult, the act trains and steadies the nafs, making it firm upon faith and certainty. He offers a second reading: tathbīt as a confirmation of one's faith drawn from the very root of the soul - for when a person spends his wealth in God's cause, he proves to himself that his belief in the reward is genuine, rooted deep rather than merely spoken. On the little word min, he notes it can mean a part of (their souls are partly strengthened by giving) or from the origin of (the firmness rises out of the depth of the soul). Either way, the grammar ties the outward gift to an inward fortification.
Why this verse
God's justice is not only exacting but abundant. The sincere deed is planted in ground so good that whether much or little falls on it, it yields - a reward measured not by the amount given but by the truth of the heart that gave it.
Bring it into today
Cultivate the soil, not just the size of the gift. This āyah says a garden on good ground yields whether the rain is heavy or light - so your task is less about giving large amounts and more about the sincerity and steadiness As-Saadi describes: give seeking God's face, and give from a willing rather than a grudging heart. When your means are small, take heart - the light drizzle still produces on rich soil, so a modest, sincere gift is not a lesser deed. Watch for the two spoilers named here: the pull to be seen, and the reluctant, half-hearted giving that resents the parting. And remember the certainty in tathbīt - give as one genuinely sure of the reward, and let that assurance make the hand generous.
A reflection to carry
There is a quiet mercy in this parable that is easy to miss. The garden on the hill produces whether the rain is a downpour or a mere drizzle - which means, As-Saadi says, that both the large giver and the small one are rewarded, each according to his state. If you have ever felt your giving is too little to matter, this verse answers you: on good soil, the light rain is enough. What the parable guards is not the size of the gift but the quality of the ground - the sincerity that seeks God's face and the settled, willing heart Ibn Kathīr ties to certainty in the reward. So the work is inward. Tend the soil: give for God, give gladly, give as one genuinely sure. Even your smallest sincere gift is then a garden that will not fail.
Sources: Ibn Kathīr, al-Saʿdī, al-Zamakhsharī (al-Kashshāf). The Qur'an and its translation are verified; the scholarship is retold faithfully in our own words and credited to its sources, never reproduced verbatim.
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