Sufis treat the Quran and Hadith much like a garden with both open blooms and hidden seeds. Beyond the literal wording (zahir), seekers dive into the inner dimension (batin), looking for allegories, symbols and spiritual wisdom tucked beneath the surface. Rather than stopping at legal rulings or outward prescriptions, this path explores how each verse resonates within the heart, using techniques of contemplation (muraqaba) and spiritual unveiling (kashf) to draw out deeper insights.

When most Muslims approach a verse commanding prayer or charity, their focus lands on “do this or don’t do that.” A Sufi might ask: what does this command teach about divine presence in every act? Al-Ghazali’s Ihya ‘Ulum al-Din famously turns ritual ablutions into a metaphor for purifying the soul, while Rumi’s Mathnawi treats Qur’anic stories as living mirrors reflecting one’s own spiritual journey. That kind of reading turns commandments into conversations between the soul and its Creator.

Hadith material receives a similar treatment. Sufi masters often weigh a report’s spiritual fruitfulness alongside its isnad (chain of transmission). A technically weak narration that sparks genuine love of God or compassion might be embraced, whereas a strictly “sound” hadith that fails to deepen one’s inner state could be set aside. Sayings of the Prophet about loving God until He becomes beloved are recited in gatherings—sometimes accompanied by qawwali or sama—to ignite that very love in living, breathing form.

Eastern adaptations—especially within the Chishti and Naqshbandi orders in South Asia—blend Sufi exegesis with local artistic traditions. Qawwali sessions at shrines in Pakistan or India, now gaining UNESCO’s intangible heritage status, channel Hadith exhortations on spiritual remembrance into music and poetry. Despite occasional pushback from purist movements, these practices underline a central Sufi conviction: the sacred texts are not museum pieces but a constant invitation to discover the divine spark within.