Where Are My Virgins?

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According to Nicholas Kristof (via Milt’s file), new Koranic scholarship is disputing that old line about 72 virgins waiting for you in paradise:

[N]ow the same tools that historians, linguists and archaeologists have applied to the Bible for about 150 years are beginning to be applied to the Koran. The results are explosive [sic].

The Koran is beautifully written, but often obscure. One reason is that the Arabic language was born as a written language with the Koran, and there’s growing evidence that many of the words were Syriac or Aramaic.

For example, the Koran says martyrs going to heaven will get “hur,” and the word was taken by early commentators to mean “virgins,” hence those 72 consorts. But in Aramaic, hur meant “white” and was commonly used to mean “white grapes.”

This could be the big breakthrough in the fight against Islamic terror. Who’s going to blow themselves up for a bunch of grapes?

Comments

  1. DaninVan Avatar
    DaninVan

    Heh…what a surprise for the ones already in bits and pieces, eh? At least this is more equitable for the babe-bombers; unless, of course, they’re required to lounge around peeling (grapes) for the guys.

  2. Dave Avatar

    While I’ve never posted this on my blog (for various reasons, which I don’t want to get into) I’ve been aware of this research for a while. The original paper was written under the pseudonym “Luxemburg” or something like that. Is there new research, or is the NYT article just digging up “Luxemburg”‘s work?
    I think it’s fascinating stuff, and I wish people would look into this more.

  3. Dave Avatar

    Well, having read the NYT article, it looks like it is Luxemberg’s work (I fixed the spelling) – but it’s also more current than his book of a few years ago.

  4. Matthew Avatar
    Matthew

    I first heard this story, or a version of it, about 3 years ago. The only difference was the 72 were raisins, not white grapes. The hackneyed ease of rhyming raisins and virgins is easier than virgins and white grapes, but I’ll leave the wee poem to a smart arse

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