Islam stakes its entire identity on the claim that Allah is the one true God—unique, eternal, and free from any hint of human invention or pagan taint. Muslims are taught that Allah’s names, all 99 of them, are divinely chosen, each reflecting His supreme nature. But dig into the Quran and its own commentaries, and you’ll find something that shatters this pristine image. Allah, it turns out, shares a name with a pagan idol. Yes, you read that right—an idol.
The Quranic Claim
Take a look at Surah Al-Ikhlas, verse 2 (Quran 112:2). It says: ٱللَّهُ ٱلصَّمَدُ, translated by scholars as “Allah, the Eternal, Absolute.” The word “Samad” is supposed to signify Allah’s self-sufficiency, His independence from all needs—a lofty, divine attribute. Muslims recite this verse with reverence, believing it encapsulates Allah’s unmatched essence.
The Damning Commentary
Now, let’s turn to Tafsir Ibne Kathir, one of Islam’s most authoritative commentaries, specifically its discussion of Surah Al-Ahraf, verse 70 (Quran 7:70). Here, Ibne Kathir records: إسحاق وغيره أنهم كانوا يعبدون أصناماً فصنم يقال له صمد وآخر يقال صمود, which translates to: “Isaac and others said that they (the people of Aad) used to worship idols, one called Samad and another called Samud.” [Urdu Reference]
Let that sink in. The same “Samad” that the Quran uses to describe Allah was the name of an idol worshipped by the ancient tribe of Aad. This isn’t some obscure footnote—it’s right there in a foundational Islamic text.
The Glaring Problem
So, Allah—the supposed pinnacle of monotheism—bears the same name as a carved chunk of stone or wood that people bowed to. How does that even happen? If Allah is meant to stand apart from all creation, utterly distinct from the filth of idolatry, why is His name recycled from a pagan god? This isn’t a minor coincidence; it’s a theological trainwreck.
Muslims might scramble to defend this by saying, “Oh, the meaning of ‘Samad’ in the Quran is different.” Fine, but that’s irrelevant. Words carry baggage—especially names. If I named my kid “Hitler” and said, “Don’t worry, I mean it as ‘great leader,’” no one would buy it. The association matters. Why would Allah, allegedly all-knowing, pick a name already tied to idol worship? It’s sloppy at best, suspicious at worst.
Others might claim the idol’s name was a twisted version of some original divine truth. Really? Then why not choose a name that doesn’t reek of paganism? If Allah’s names are so sacred, so pure, why let one overlap with a deity the Quran itself condemns? The people of Aad were destroyed for their idolatry—yet Allah’s okay with borrowing their idol’s name?
The Bigger Picture
This forces a question: is Allah truly unique, or just a rehash of what came before? If His name echoes a pagan idol, what else in Islam is borrowed? The Kaaba, the black stone, the rituals—scholars already debate their pre-Islamic roots. Add “Samad” to the list, and the case gets stronger: Islam didn’t descend from heaven; it grew out of the dirt of 7th-century Arabia.
Final Nail
The “Samad” scandal isn’t going away. It’s right there in the Quran and Tafsir Ibne Kathir—texts Muslims can’t dismiss. This isn’t about disrespect; it’s about truth. If Islam wants to claim Allah is beyond all comparison, it needs to explain why His name was once slapped on a statue people prayed to. Until then, critics have every right to say: Allah’s not so special after all.