This is al-Ālūsī’s tafsīr (Rūḥ al-Maʿānī) on the same verse, Āl ʿImrān 3:134. Al-Ālūsī’s treatment is the most grammatically precise of the three — he digs into the iʿrāb (case-parsing), catches a beautiful balāgha point that the others missed (verb vs. participle), and gives a long, sophisticated discussion of the famous “these are few in my umma” hadith. I’ll arrange the actual text faithfully, give Insight/Lessons, then teach it all simply.

The verse

﴿الَّذِینَ یُنفِقُونَ فِی السَّرَّاۤءِ وَالضَّرَّاۤءِ وَالۡكَاظِمِینَ الۡغَیۡظَ وَالۡعَافِینَ عَنِ النَّاسِۗ وَاللَّهُ یُحِبُّ الۡمُحۡسِنِینَ﴾ [آل عمران ١٣٤]

“Those who spend in ease and in hardship, who restrain their anger, and who pardon people — and Allah loves the doers of good.”

﴿الَّذِينَ يُنْفِقُونَ﴾ — the grammar (iʿrāb)

The phrase ﴿الَّذِينَ يُنْفِقُونَ﴾ is in the position of jarr (genitive) as a naʿt (adjective) describing al-muttaqīn (the God-conscious of the previous verse), praising them. Other parsings were offered: that it is specifying (mukhaṣṣaṣ), or a badal (substitute), or a bayān (explication) — or in the position of naṣb by an implied verb, or rafʿ by an implied “hum” (they).

The object of “yunfiqūn” (what exactly they spend) is deliberately omitted (maḥdhūf) — so the phrase takes in everything suitable for praiseworthy spending; or it is dropped entirely, as in the Arabs’ saying “fulānun yuʿṭī” (“so-and-so gives” — without saying what he gives).

Insight / Lesson: Even the grammar is generous. By not naming what these people spend, the verse leaves the door open to every kind of giving — money, food, knowledge, time, a kind word. “He gives” — full stop — describes someone whose whole identity is giving, not a person who gave one specific thing once.

﴿فِي السَّرَّاءِ وَالضَّرَّاءِ﴾ — “in ease and hardship”

The readings:

• In ease and hardship (al-yusr wa al-ʿusr) — said Ibn ʿAbbās.
• In joy and grief.
• In life and after death (by making a bequest, waṣiyya).
• In what pleases — like spending on one’s child and relative — and in what pains — like spending on enemies.
• In hosting the rich and giving them gifts, and in what he spends on the people of distress and gives them in charity.

The root of al-sarrāʾ is the state that pleases; al-ḍarrāʾ, the state that harms. The most obvious reading (al-mutabādir) is what the ḥabr (Ibn ʿAbbās) said. What’s meant is either the literal sense or generalization (taʿmīm), as is customary in such cases — i.e., they never fail, in any state, to spend whatever they can, much or little.

It is narrated from ʿĀʾisha (raḍiya Allāhu ʿanhā) that she gave a single grape in charity, and from some of the salaf that he gave an onion in charity. And in the reports: “Guard yourselves from the Fire, even with half a date,” and “Turn not away the beggar, even with a burnt hoof.”

Insight / Lesson: The grape, the onion, the half-date, the burnt hoof — al-Ālūsī piles up the tiniest possible gifts on purpose. The message: the gate of giving is never closed to you. No one is ever too poor to give something. What’s praised is the unbroken habit, not the size of the donation.

﴿وَالْكَاظِمِينَ الْغَيْظَ﴾ — “who restrain their anger”

The root of al-kaẓm is tying the mouth of the waterskin when it is full. One says falun kaẓīm = a man filled with grief.

al-ghayẓ = the boiling-up of one’s nature (hayajān al-ṭabʿ) on seeing something one rejects. The difference between it and al-ghaḍab, as stated, has three views:

• Ghaḍab is necessarily followed by the will to take revenge; ghayẓ is not.
• Ghaḍab is what shows on the limbs and skin involuntarily; ghayẓ is not like that.
• They are inseparable, except that ghaḍab may be validly attributed to God, while ghayẓ may not.

What’s meant: those who swallow their rage (al-mutajarriʿīna lil-ghayẓ), holding it back when their souls are full of it — not carrying it out against whoever harms them, nor showing him what he’d dislike, but bearing it patiently despite being able to execute and avenge. This is the praised one.

The hadiths:

• ʿAbd al-Razzāq and Ibn Jarīr, from Abū Hurayra (marfūʿ): “Whoever restrains rage while able to carry it out, Allah fills his heart with security and faith (amnan wa īmānan).”
• Aḥmad, from Anas: the Messenger ﷺ said: “Whoever restrains rage while able to carry it out, Allah will call him before all creation on the Day of Resurrection until He lets him choose whichever of the ḥūr he wishes.“

In the first hadith, the reward is of the same kind as the deed (you gave your heart peace by restraint → God fills your heart with peace); in the second, the reward is among its consequences.

The balāgha jewel — verb vs. participle

This description (al-kāẓimīn) is conjoined to what came before it, but notice: it switches to the agent-noun form (the active participle, al-kāẓimīn) to signal continuity and permanence (al-istimrār). Spending (al-infāq), by contrast — since it is a renewable, recurring act — was expressed with the verb form (yunfiqūn), which conveys renewal and fresh occurrence (al-tajaddud wa al-ḥudūth).

Insight / Lesson: This is the subtlest point in any of the three tafsīrs. “Yunfiqūn” is a verb — spending is something you do again and again, act by act. But “al-kāẓimīn” and “al-ʿāfīn” are participles — restraining anger and pardoning are settled features of your character, not isolated acts. The grammar quietly says: giving is a recurring action, but self-mastery and forgiveness are who you are. And the imagery stays consistent — kaẓm is the sealed full waterskin again: full to bursting, lid tied shut.

﴿وَالْعَافِينَ عَنِ النَّاسِ﴾ — “who pardon people”

= those who pass over the punishment of those who deserved to be held accountable — provided there is no harm to the religion in doing so. It was also said: pardoning owned servants (al-mamlūkīn) when they err — but the general meaning is preferred (al-ʿumūm awlā).

The hadiths:

• Ibn Jarīr, from al-Ḥasan: God will say on the Day of Resurrection, “Let him stand who has a reward due upon God” — and none stands but a person who pardoned.
• al-Ṭabarānī, from Ubayy ibn Kaʿb: the Messenger ﷺ said: “Whoever would be pleased to have his building raised high and his ranks elevated, let him pardon the one who wronged him, give to the one who deprived him, and join the one who cut him off.“
• al-Daylamī (in Musnad al-Firdaws), from Anas ibn Mālik, on this verse: “These are few in my umma, except those whom Allah protects; and they were many in the nations that have passed.“

Resolving the “few in my umma” hadith

The exception (istithnāʾ) is disconnected (munqaṭiʿ) if the “fewness” is taken literally, and connected (muttaṣil) if “fewness” really means “non-existence.”

Now — does the hadith’s saying that this trait was “many in past nations” mean those nations were superior to this umma? No. Some scholars, assuming it might, strained the hadith: they said those who restrain rage in this umma are few because this umma was trained to be angry for God’s sake and to refuse all flattery (mudāhana), so executing one’s wrath became their habit — whereas past nations restrained more only because of their weak zeal (qillat al-ḥamiyya), which is also why commanding good and forbidding evil was rare among them. On this strained reading, the “few” are the cold-zeal restrainers — no real merit at all.

al-Ālūsī rejects this — “both the indication and the wording refuse it” (taʾbāhu al-ishāra wa al-ʿibāra). His far better answer: the “manyness” is relative to the total sum of all nations together, not to each single nation. And the small number of such people among us doesn’t hurt at all — because this entire umma is itself small compared to the grand total of all peoples from Adam ﷺ until the sending of our Prophet ﷺ, let alone its best members. So reflect (fa-tadabbar).

The link to Uhud

In mentioning these two traits (restraining rage and pardoning), some verifying scholars saw an allusion to the Prophet’s ﷺ pardon of the archers (al-rumāt) — not holding them accountable for disobeying his command [at the Battle of Uhud] — and to his being urged to abandon what he had resolved: to repay the polytheists for what they did to Ḥamza (raḍiya Allāhu ʿanhu). For when he saw Ḥamza mutilated, he said: “I will surely mutilate seventy in your place.”

And perhaps the participle form is used for pardon as well (rather than a verb) because pardon resembles restraining more than it resembles spending — i.e., it too is a settled trait.

Insight / Lesson: Watch al-Ālūsī’s care. First he refuses to let a hadith be read as demoting this umma; he finds the reading that’s both linguistically honest and fair. Then he anchors the whole verse in real history: the archers at Uhud broke ranks and triggered a disaster, yet the Prophet ﷺ pardoned them; and in his deepest grief over Ḥamza, he let go of the vengeance he had vowed. So the verse isn’t theory — it’s a portrait of the Prophet ﷺ living it at his hardest moment.

﴿وَاللَّهُ يُحِبُّ الْمُحْسِنِينَ﴾ — “and Allah loves the doers of good”

This is a concluding appendix (tadhyīl) to everything before it. The (ال) is either for genus (jins) — so the people just described are included first and foremost — or for the known (ʿahd).

Why call them al-muḥsinīn? Two ways to read iḥsān here:

(1) Doing deeds in their fitting, beautiful manner. Their descriptive goodness (ḥusn waṣfī) entails their essential goodness (ḥusn dhātī). This is the iḥsān the Prophet ﷺ defined: “that you worship Allah as if you see Him, for if you do not see Him, He surely sees you.“

(2) Conferring benefit upon others (al-inʿām ʿalā al-ghayr) in a manner free of any ugliness. On this reading, they’re called muḥsinīn to show that in all these traits — not in spending alone — they are doing good to others.

Supporting reading (2) is al-Bayhaqī’s narration: a slave-girl of ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥusayn (Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn, raḍiya Allāhu ʿanhumā) was pouring water for him to prepare for prayer, when the ewer fell from her hand and gashed his head. He raised his head toward her, and she said:

• ﴿وَالْكَاظِمِينَ الْغَيْظَ﴾ — He said: “I have restrained my rage.”
• ﴿وَالْعَافِينَ عَنِ النَّاسِ﴾ — He said: “Allah has pardoned you.”
• ﴿وَاللَّهُ يُحِبُّ الْمُحْسِنِينَ﴾ — He said: “Go — you are free, for the sake of Allah.“

Insight / Lesson: Two beautiful doors open on the word muḥsinīn. One faces upward — iḥsān as worshipping God “as if you see Him.” The other faces outward — iḥsān as doing good to people. And both meet in the Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn story (a near-twin of Qurtubī’s Maymūn story): the verse recited back to a master, clause by clause, until it carries the servant from a gash on the head all the way to freedom. Scripture turned, in real time, into someone’s liberation.

Now — let me teach you the whole thing, like you’re 15

You already know this verse from the other two scholars. Al-Ālūsī adds a few new layers, so let me teach his version and fold those in.

The setup. The verse describes the people headed for Paradise. Al-Ālūsī first looks at the grammar and notices something sweet: the verse says they “spend” but never says what they spend. That blank is on purpose — it means every kind of giving counts. “He gives” — that’s just who they are.

Quality 1: Give — in everything, and even the tiniest bit counts. Rich or poor, happy or sad — they keep giving. And al-Ālūsī stacks up the smallest gifts imaginable: ʿĀʾisha gave one grape, someone gave one onion, and the Prophet ﷺ said save yourself from Hell “even with half a date,” and never turn away a beggar “even with a burnt hoof.” Translation: you are never too broke to give something. The door is always open.

Quality 2: Seal your anger shut. That word kaẓm literally means tying a full waterskin closed so nothing leaks. So restraining anger means you’re full to the brim with rage and you keep the lid on. You could hit back — and you don’t. Al-Ālūsī even separates two words: ghayẓ is the rage boiling inside (hidden), while ghaḍab is anger that’s burst out onto your face and hands. The verse praises catching it while it’s still inside. Rewards? God fills your heart with peace and faith, and calls you out in front of everyone on Judgment Day to pick your reward.

Here’s al-Ālūsī’s clever catch — a grammar detail with a big meaning. “Spend” is a verb (an action you repeat over and over), but “restrain anger” and “pardon” are describing-words (participles — they name a permanent trait). Why the switch? Because giving is something you keep doing, but self-control and forgiveness are something you become. They’re baked into your character.

Quality 3: Forgive people. This is the level above restraint: you don’t just hold the anger in — you actually let the person off. The rewards: on Judgment Day God asks “who has a reward owed by Me?” and only those who forgave stand up; and whoever wants their rank in Paradise raised should “pardon whoever wronged them, give to whoever denied them, and reconnect with whoever cut them off.”

Then al-Ālūsī handles a tricky hadith: “These people are few in my umma… but were many in past nations.” Does that mean older nations were better than us? He says no — the “many” just means across all of history added together, not in any single nation. (After all, this whole umma is small compared to the total of everyone who ever lived.) So don’t misread it as a put-down.

And he roots it all in a real event: the Battle of Uhud. The Prophet’s ﷺ archers disobeyed orders and caused a catastrophe — yet he forgave them. And when he found his uncle Ḥamza killed and mutilated, in his grief he vowed revenge — then let it go. The man who lived this verse hardest was the Prophet ﷺ himself.

The ending: “Allah loves the doers of good.” The word muḥsinīn (“doers of good”) opens two doors at once:

• One points up to God: iḥsān is to “worship God as if you can see Him — and if you can’t see Him, know that He sees you.”
• One points out to people: iḥsān is doing good to others — which is exactly what all three qualities were (giving, not retaliating, forgiving).

And al-Ālūsī seals it with the story of Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn: his servant accidentally gashed his head with a water jug. As he looked up, she recited the verse to him, piece by piece — “restrain your anger”… “pardon people”… “Allah loves the doers of good” — and at each line he climbed a step: “I’ve held my anger”… “you’re pardoned”… “you’re free, for God’s sake.” A cut on the head turned into someone’s freedom, just by living this one verse.

The whole verse in one line: The people God loves give in every situation (even a grape), seal their boiling anger shut like a tied waterskin instead of striking back, and forgive people even when they could punish — and they do it so consistently that it’s not just what they do, it’s who they are.