11. The Ḥulúlís.
Of those two reprobate sects which profess to belong to Ṣúfiism and make the Ṣúfís partners in their error, one follows Abú Ḥulmán of Damascus.[[136]] The stories which his adherents relate of him do not agree with what is written about him in the books of the Shaykhs, for, while the Ṣúfís regard him as one of themselves, these sectaries impute to him the doctrines of incarnation (ḥulúl) and commixture (imtizáj) and transmigration of spirits (naskh-i arwáḥ). I have seen this statement in the book of Muqaddasí,[[137]] who attacks him; and the same notion of him has been formed by theologians, but God knows best what is the truth. The other sect refer their doctrine to Fáris,[[138]] who pretends to have derived it from Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj), but he is the only one of Ḥusayn’s followers who holds such tenets. I saw Abú Ja`far Ṣaydalání[[139]] with four thousand men, dispersed throughout `Iráq, who were Ḥallájís; and they all cursed Fáris on account of this doctrine. Moreover, in the compositions of al-Ḥalláj himself there is nothing but profound theosophy.
I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, say that I do not know who Fáris and Abú Hulmán were or what they said, but anyone who holds a doctrine conflicting with Unification and true theosophy has no part in religion at all. If religion, which is the root, is not firmly based, Ṣúfiism, which is the branch and offspring of religion, must with more reason be unsound, for it is inconceivable that miracles and evidences should be manifested except to religious persons and Unitarians. All the errors of these sectaries are in regard to the spirit (rúḥ). Now, therefore, I will explain its nature and principles according to the Sunní canon, and in the course of my explanation I will notice the erroneous and delusive opinions of the heretics in order that your faith may be strengthened thereby.
Discourse on the Spirit (al-rúḥ).
You must know that knowledge concerning the existence of the spirit is intuitive (darúrí), and the intelligence is unable to apprehend its (the spirit’s) nature. Every Moslem divine and sage has expressed some conjectural opinion on this point, which has also been debated by unbelievers of various sorts. When the unbelievers of Quraysh, prompted by the Jews, sent Naḍr b. al-Ḥárith to question the Apostle concerning the nature and essence of the spirit, God in the first place affirmed its substance and said, “And they will ask thee concerning the spirit”; then He denied its eternity, saying, “Answer, ‘The spirit belongs to that which (i.e. the creation of which) my Lord commanded’” (Kor. xvii, 87). And the Apostle said: “The spirits are hosts gathered together: those that know one another agree, and those that do not know one another disagree.” There are many similar proofs of the existence of the spirit, but they contain no authoritative statement as to its nature. Some have said that the spirit is the life whereby the body lives, a view which is also held by a number of scholastic philosophers. According to this view the spirit is an accident (`araḍ), which at God’s command keeps the body alive, and from which proceed conjunction, motion, cohesion. and similar accidents by which the body is changed from one state to another. Others, again, declare that the spirit is not life, but that life does not exist without it, just as the spirit does not exist without the body, and that the two are never found apart, because they are inseparable, like pain and the knowledge of pain. According to this view also the spirit is an accident, like life. All the Ṣúfí Shaykhs, however, and most orthodox Moslems hold that the spirit is a substance, and not an attribute; for, so long as it is connected with the body, God continually creates life in the body, and the life of Man is an attribute and by it he lives, but the spirit is deposited in his body and may be separated from him while he is still living, as in sleep. But when it leaves him, intelligence and knowledge can no longer remain with him, for the Apostle has said that the spirits of martyrs are in the crops of birds: consequently it must be a substance; and the Apostle has said that the spirits are hosts (junúd), and hosts are subsistent (báqí), and no accident can subsist, for an accident does not stand by itself.
The spirit, then, is a subtle body (jismí laṭíf), which comes and goes by the command of God. On the night of the Ascension, when the Apostle saw in Heaven Adam, Joseph, Moses, Aaron, Jesus, and Abraham, it was their spirits that he saw; and if the spirit were an accident, it would not stand by itself so as to become visible, for it would need a locus in substances, and substances are gross (kathíf). Accordingly, it has been ascertained that the spirit is subtle and corporeal (jasím), and being corporeal, it is visible, but visible only to the eye of intelligence (chashm-i dil). And spirits may reside in the crops of birds or may be armies that move to and fro, as the Apostolic Traditions declare.
Here we are at variance with the heretics, who assert that the spirit is eternal (qadím), and worship it, and regard it as the sole agent and governor of things, and call it the uncreated spirit of God, and aver that it passes from one body to another. No popular error has obtained such wide acceptance as this doctrine, which is held by the Christians, although they express it in terms that appear to conflict with it, and by all the Indians, Tibetans, and Chinese, and is supported by the consensus of opinion among the Shí`ites, Carmathians, and Ismá`ílís (Báṭiniyán), and is embraced by the two false sects abovementioned. All these sectaries base their belief on certain propositions and bring forward proofs in defence of their assertion. I ask them this question: “What do you mean by ‘eternity’ (qidam)? Do you mean the pre-existence of a non-eternal thing, or an eternal thing that never came into being?” If they mean the pre-existence of a non-eternal thing, then there is no difference between us in principle, for we too say that the spirit is non-eternal (muḥdath), and that it existed before the body, as the Apostle said: “God created the spirits two thousand years before the bodies.” Accordingly, the spirit is one sort of God’s creatures, and He joins it to another sort of His creatures, and in joining them together He produces life through His predestination. But the spirit cannot pass from body to body, because, just as a body cannot have two lives, so a spirit cannot have two bodies. If these facts were not affirmed in Apostolic Traditions by an Apostle who speaks the truth, and if the matter were considered purely from the standpoint of a reasonable intelligence, then the spirit would be life and nothing else, and it would be an attribute, not a substance. Now suppose, on the other hand, they say that the spirit is an eternal thing that never came into being. In this case, I ask: “Does it stand by itself or by something else?” If they say, “By itself,” I ask them, “Is God its world (`álam) or not?” If they answer that God is not its world, they affirm the existence of two eternal beings, which is contrary to reason, for the eternal is infinite, and the essence of one eternal being would limit the other. But if they answer that God is its world, then I say that God is eternal and His creatures are non-eternal: it is impossible that the eternal should be commingled with the non-eternal or made one with it, or become immanent in it, or that the non-eternal should be the place of the eternal or that the eternal should carry it; for whatever is joined to anything must be like that to which it is joined, and only homogeneous things are capable of being united and separated. And if they say that the spirit does not stand by itself, but by something else, then it must be either an attribute (ṣifat) or an accident (`araḍ). If it is an accident, it must either be in a locus or not. If it is in a locus, its locus must be like itself, and neither can be called eternal; and to say that it has no locus is absurd, for an accident cannot stand by itself. If, again, they say that the spirit is an eternal attribute—and this is the doctrine of the Ḥulúhs and those who believe in metempsychosis (tanásukhiyán)—and call it an attribute of God, I reply that an eternal attribute of God cannot possibly become an attribute of His creatures; for, if His life could become the life of His creatures, similarly His power could become their power; and inasmuch as an attribute stands by its object, how can an eternal attribute stand by a non-eternal object? Therefore, as I have shown, the eternal has no connexion with the non-eternal, and the doctrine of the heretics who affirm this is false. The spirit is created and is under God’s command. Anyone who holds another belief is in flagrant error and cannot distinguish what is non-eternal from what is eternal. No saint, if his saintship be sound, can possibly be ignorant of the attributes of God. I give praise without end to God, who hath guarded us from heresies and dangers, and hath bestowed on us intelligence to examine and refute them by our arguments, and hath given us faith in order that we may know Him. When men who see only the exterior hear stories of this kind from theologians, they imagine that this is the doctrine of all aspirants to Ṣúfiism. They are grossly mistaken and utterly deceived, and the consequence is that they are blinded to the beauty of our mystic knowledge and to the loveliness of Divine saintship and to the flashes of spiritual illumination, because eminent Ṣúfís regard popular applause and popular censure with equal indifference.
Section.
One of the Shaykhs says: “The spirit in the body is like fire in fuel; the fire is created (makhlúq) and the coal is made (maṣnú`).” Nothing can be described as eternal except the essence and attributes of God. Abú Bakr Wásiṭí has discoursed on the spirit more than any of the Ṣúfí Shaykhs. It is related that he said: “There are ten stations (maqámát) of spirits: (1) the spirits of the sincere (mukhliṣán), which are imprisoned in a darkness and know not what will befall them; (2) the spirits of pious men (pársá-mardán), which in the heaven of this world rejoice in the fruits of their actions and take pleasure in devotions, and walk by the strength thereof; (3) the spirits of disciples (murídán), which are in the fourth heaven and dwell with the angels in the delights of veracity, and in the shadow of their good works; (4) the spirits of the beneficent (ahl-i minan) which are hung in lamps of light from the Throne of God, and their food is mercy, and their drink is favour and proximity; (5) the spirits of the faithful (ahl-i wafá), which thrill with joy in the veil of purity and the station of electness (iṣṭifá); (6) the spirits of martyrs (shahídán), which are in Paradise in the crops of birds, and go where they will in its gardens early and late; (7) the spirits of those who yearn (mushtáqán), which stand on the carpet of respect (adab) clad in the luminous veils of the Divine attributes; (8) the spirits of gnostics (`árifán), which, in the precincts of holiness, listen at morn and eve to the word of God and see their places in Paradise and in this world; (9) the spirits of lovers (dústán), which have become absorbed in contemplation of the Divine beauty and the station of revelation (kashf), and perceive nothing but God and rest content with no other thing; (10) the spirits of dervishes, which have found favour with God in the abode of annihilation, and have suffered a transformation of quality and a change of state.”
It is related concerning the Shaykhs that they have seen the spirit in different shapes, and this may well be, because, as I have said, it is created, and a subtle body (jismí laṭíf) is necessarily visible. God shows it to every one of His servants, when and as it pleases Him.
I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, declare that our life is wholly through God, and our stability is through Him, and our being kept alive is the act of God in us, and we live through His creation, not through His essence and attributes. The doctrine of the animists (rúḥiyán) is entirely false. Belief in the eternity of the spirit is one of the grave errors which prevail among the vulgar, and is expressed in different ways, e.g. they use the terms “soul” and “matter” (nafs ú hayúlá), or “light” and “darkness” (núr ú ẕulmat), and those Ṣúfí impostors speak of “annihilation” and “subsistence” (faná ú baqá), or “union” and “separation” (jam` ú tafriqa), or adopt similar phrases as a fair mask for their infidelity. But the Ṣúfís abjure these heretics, for the Ṣúfís hold that saintship and true love of God depend on knowledge of Him, and anyone who does not know the eternal from the non-eternal is ignorant in what he says, and the intelligent pay no attention to what is said by the ignorant. Now I will unveil the portals of the practice and theory of the Ṣúfís, furnishing my explanation with evident proofs, in order that you may the more easily comprehend my meaning, and that any sceptic possessed of insight may be led back into the right way, and that I may thereby gain a blessing and a Divine reward.
[109]. i.e. the detachment of all phenomenal attributes from the Unity of God.
[110]. According to Qushayrí (105, 21 ff.) the `Iráqís held the doctrine which is here ascribed to the Khurásánís, and vice versâ.
[111]. A well-known traditionist, who died about 120 A.H.
[112]. `Abdalláh, son of the Caliph `Umar.
[113]. Here follow two stories illustrating the same topic: the first relates how `Alí slept in the Prophet’s bed on the night of the latter’s emigration from Mecca, when the infidels were seeking to slay him; the second, how on the battle-field of Uḥud the wounded Moslems, though parched with thirst, preferred to die rather than drink the water which their comrades asked for.
[114]. The followers of Ḥamdún al-Qaṣṣár, who are generally called Qaṣṣárís.
[115]. Here the author cites Kor. lxxix, 40, 41; ii, 81 (part of the verse); xii, 53; and the Traditions: “When God wishes well unto His servant He causes him to see the faults of his soul,” and “God said to David, ‘O David, hate thy soul, for My love depends on thy hatred of it.’”
[116]. Here follows an account of the mortification which the Prophet imposed on himself.
[117]. Kor. xlvii, 12.
[118]. See Ibn Khallikán, No. 4.
[119]. See Ibn Khallikán, No. 621; Brockelmann, i, 166.
[120]. The name mu`jizat is given to a miracle performed by a prophet, while one performed by a saint is called karámat.
[121]. B. omits the words “that he is insensibly deceived”.
[122]. Here follow (1) a Tradition, related by Abú Hurayra, of three infants who were miraculously endowed with speech: (a) Jesus, (b) a child who exculpated the monk Jurayj (George) when he was falsely accused by a harlot, (c) a child who divined the characters of a horseman and a woman. (2) A story of Zá´ida, the handmaid of the Caliph `Umar: how a knight descended from heaven and gave her a message from Riḍwán, the keeper of Paradise, to the Prophet; and how, when she could not lift a bundle of firewood from a rock on which she had laid it, the Prophet bade the rock go with her and carry the firewood to `Umar’s house. (3) A story of `Alá b. al-Ḥaḍramí, who, having been sent on a warlike expedition by the Prophet, walked dry-shod across a river with his company. (4) A story of `Abdalláh b. `Umar, at whose bidding a lion decamped and left the way open for a party of travellers. (5) A story of a man who was seen sitting in the air, and when Abraham asked him by what means he had obtained such power, replied that he had renounced the world and that God had bestowed on him an aerial dwelling-place where he was not disturbed by any thought of mankind. (6) A story of the Caliph `Umar, who was on the point of being killed by a Persian, when two lions suddenly appeared and caused the assassin to desist. (7) A story of Khálid b. Walíd, who said “Bismillah” and drank a deadly poison, which did him no harm. (8) A story, related by Ḥasan of Baṣra, of a negro who turned the walls of a tavern into gold. (9) A story, related by Ibráhím b. Adham, of a shepherd who smote a rock with his staff and caused water to gush forth. (10) A story of a cup which pronounced the words “Glory to God” in the hearing of Abú Dardá and Salmán Fárisí.
[123]. Died in 326 A.H. See Abu ´l-Maḥásin, Nujúm, ii, 284, 13.
[124]. L. سلاتک. IJ. اسلاتک.
[125]. See Nafaḥát, No. 351.
[126]. Here the author tells the story, which has already been related (p. 142 supra), of Abú Bakr Warráq, who was commanded by Muḥammad b. `Alí of Tirmidh to throw some of the latter’s mystical writings into the Oxus.
[127]. A full account of Báyazíd’s ascension is given in the Tadhkirat al-Awliyá, i, 172 ff.
[128]. See Kor. ii, 96 ff.
[129]. Nafaḥát, No. 201.
[130]. For the distinction between ṣifát-i dhát and ṣifát-i fi`l see Dozy, Supplément, ii, 810.
[131]. Here the author illustrates the meaning of “union” and “separation” by the action of Muḥammad when he threw gravel in the eyes of the unbelievers at Badr, and by that of David when he slew Goliath. See p. [185] supra.
[132]. The last words are corrupt and unmetrical in all the texts. I have found the true reading, من الأَحْشآءِ دانى, in a MS. of the Kitáb al-Luma` by Abú Naṣr al-Sarráj, which has recently come into the possession of Mr. A. G. Ellis.
[133]. Nafaḥát, No. 188.
[134]. “The Book of Exposition for Persons of Intuition.”
[135]. “The Sea of Hearts.”
[137]. The nisba Muqaddasí or Maqdisí belongs to a number of Moslem writers. I do not know which of them is intended here.
[138]. See Nafaḥát, No. 178.
[139]. This person, whom the author has already mentioned at the beginning of Chapter XIII, is not identical with the Ṣúfí of the same name who was a contemporary of Junayd (Nafaḥát, No. 197).
CHAPTER XV.
The Uncovering of the First Veil: Concerning the Gnosis of God (ma`rifat Allah).
The Apostle said: “If ye knew God as He ought to be known, ye would walk on the seas, and the mountains would move at your call.” Gnosis of God is of two kinds: cognitional (`ilmí) and emotional (ḥálí). Cognitional gnosis is the foundation of all blessings in this world and in the next, for the most important thing for a man at all times and in all circumstances is knowledge of God, as God hath said: “I only created the genii and mankind that they might serve Me” (Kor. li, 56), i.e. that they might know Me. But the greater part of men neglect this duty, except those whom God hath chosen and whose hearts He hath vivified with Himself. Gnosis is the life of the heart through God, and the turning away of one’s inmost thoughts from all that is not God. The worth of everyone is in proportion to gnosis, and he who is without gnosis is worth nothing. Theologians, lawyers, and other classes of men give the name of gnosis (ma`rifat) to right cognition (`ilm) of God, but the Ṣúfí Shaykhs call right feeling (ḥál) towards God by that name. Hence they have said that gnosis (ma`rifat) is more excellent than cognition (`ilm), for right feeling (ḥál) is the result of right cognition, but right cognition is not the same thing as right feeling, i.e. one who has not cognition of God is not a gnostic (`árif), but one may have cognition of God without being a gnostic. Those of either class who were ignorant of this distinction engaged in useless controversy, and the one party disbelieved in the other party. Now I will explain the matter in order that both may be instructed.
Section.
You must know that there is a great difference of opinion touching the gnosis and right cognition of God. The Mu`tazilites assert that gnosis is intellectual and that only a reasonable person (`áqil) can possibly have it. This doctrine is disproved by the fact that madmen, within Islam, are deemed to have gnosis, and that children, who are not reasonable, are deemed to have faith. Were the criterion of gnosis an intellectual one, such persons must be without gnosis, while unbelievers could not be charged with infidelity, provided only that they were reasonable beings. If reason were the cause of gnosis, it would follow that every reasonable person must know God, and that all who lack reason must be ignorant of Him; which is manifestly absurd. Others pretend that demonstration (istidlál) is the cause of knowledge of God, and that such knowledge is not gained except by those who deduce it in this manner. The futility of this doctrine is exemplified by Iblís, for he saw many evidences, such as Paradise, Hell, and the Throne of God, yet they did not cause him to have gnosis. God hath said that knowledge of Him depends on His will (Kor. vi, 111). According to the view of orthodox Moslems, soundness of reason and regard to evidences are a means (sabab) to gnosis, but not the cause (`illat) thereof: the sole cause is God’s will and favour, for without His favour (`ináyat) reason is blind. Reason does not even know itself: how, then, can it know another? Heretics of all sorts use the demonstrative method, but the majority of them do not know God. On the other hand, whenever one enjoys the favour of God, all his actions are so many tokens of gnosis; his demonstration is search (ṭalab), and his neglect of demonstration is resignation to God’s will (taslím); but, in reference to perfect gnosis, resignation is no better than search, for search is a principle that cannot be neglected, while resignation is a principle that excludes the possibility of agitation (iḍṭiráb), and these two principles do not essentially involve gnosis. In reality Man’s only guide and enlightener is God. Reason and the proofs adduced by reason are unable to direct anyone into the right way. If the infidels were to return from the place of Judgment to this world, they would bring their infidelity back with them (cf. Kor. vi, 28). When the Commander of the Faithful, `Alí, was asked concerning gnosis, he said: “I know God by God, and I know that which is not God by the light of God.” God created the body and committed its life to the spirit (ján), and He created the soul (dil) and committed its life to Himself. Hence, inasmuch as reason and human faculties and evidences have no power to make the body live, they cannot make the soul live, as God hath said: “Shall he who was dead and whom We have restored to life and to whom We have given a light whereby he may walk among men...?” (Kor. vi, 122), i.e. “I am the Creator of the light in which believers are illumined”. It is God that opens and seals the hearts of men (Kor. xxxix, 23; ii, 6): therefore He alone is able to guide them. Everything except Him is a cause or a means, and causes and means cannot possibly indicate the right way without the favour of the Causer. He it is that imposes the obligation of piety, which is essentially gnosis; and those on whom that obligation is laid, so long as they are in the state of obligation, neither bring it upon themselves nor put it away from themselves by their own choice: therefore Man’s share in gnosis, unless God makes him know, is mere helplessness. Abu ´l-Ḥasan Núrí says: “There is none to point out the way to God except God Himself: knowledge is sought only for due performance of His worship.” No created being is capable of leading anyone to God. Those who rely on demonstration are not more reasonable than was Abú Ṭálib, and no guide is greater than was Muḥammad; yet since Abú Ṭálib was preordained to misery, the guidance of Muḥammad did not avail him. The first step of demonstration is a turning away from God, because demonstration involves the consideration of some other thing, whereas gnosis is a turning away from all that is not God. Ordinary objects of search are found by means of demonstration, but knowledge of God is extraordinary. Therefore, knowledge of Him is attained only by unceasing bewilderment of the reason, and His favour is not procured by any act of human acquisition, but is miraculously revealed to men’s hearts. What is not God is phenomenal (muḥdath), and although a phenomenal being may reach another like himself he cannot reach his Creator and acquire Him while he exists, for in every act of acquisition he who makes the acquisition is predominant and the thing acquired is under his power. Accordingly, the miracle is not that reason should be led by the act to affirm the existence of the Agent, but that a saint should be led by the light of the Truth to deny his own existence. The knowledge gained is in the one case a matter of logic, in the other it becomes an inward experience. Let those who deem reason to be the cause of gnosis consider what reason affirms in their minds concerning the substance of gnosis, for gnosis involves the negation of whatever is affirmed by reason, i.e. whatever notion of God can be formed by reason, God is in reality something different. How, then, is there any room for reason to arrive at gnosis by means of demonstration? Reason and imagination are homogeneous, and where genus is affirmed gnosis is denied. To infer the existence of God from intellectual proofs is assimilation (tashbíh), and to deny it on the same grounds is nullification (ta`ṭíl). Reason cannot pass beyond these two principles, which in regard to gnosis are agnosticism, since neither of the parties professing them is Unitarian (muwaḥḥid).
Therefore, when reason is gone as far as possible, and the souls of His lovers must needs search for Him, they rest helplessly without their faculties, and while they so rest they grow restless and stretch their hands in supplication and seek a relief for their souls; and when they have exhausted every manner of search in their power, the power of God becomes theirs, i.e. they find the way from Him to Him, and are eased of the anguish of absence and set foot in the garden of intimacy and win to rest. And reason, when it sees that the souls have attained their desire, tries to exert its control, but fails; and when it fails it becomes distraught; and when it becomes distraught it abdicates. Then God clothes it in the garment of service (khidmat) and says to it: “While thou wert independent thou wert veiled by thy faculties and their exercise, and when these were annihilated thou didst fail, and having failed thou didst attain.” Thus it is the allotted portion of the soul to be near unto God, and that of the reason is to do His service. God causes Man to know Him through Himself with a knowledge that is not linked to any faculty, a knowledge in which the existence of Man is merely metaphorical. Hence to the gnostic egoism is utter perfidy; his remembrance of God is without forgetfulness, and his gnosis is not empty words but actual feeling.
Others, again, declare that gnosis is the result of inspiration (ilhám). This also is impossible, because gnosis supplies a criterion for distinguishing truth from falsehood, whereas the inspired have no such criterion. If one says, “I know by inspiration that God is in space,” and another says, “I know by inspiration that He is not in space,” one of these contradictory statements must be true, but a proof is necessary in order to decide where the truth lies. Consequently, this view, which is held by the Brahmans and the inspirationists (ilhámiyán), falls to the ground. In the present age I have met a number of persons who carried it to an extreme and who connected their own position with the doctrine of religious men, but they are altogether in error, and their assertion is repugnant to all reasonable Moslems and unbelievers. If it be said that whatever conflicts with the sacred law is not inspiration, I reply that this argument is fundamentally unsound, because, if inspiration is to be judged and verified by the standard of the sacred law, then gnosis does not depend on inspiration, but on law and prophecy and Divine guidance.
Others assert that knowledge of God is intuitive (ḍarúrí). This also is impossible. Everything that is known in this way must be known in common by all reasonable men, and inasmuch as we see that some reasonable men deny the existence of God and hold the doctrines of assimilation (tashbíh) and nullification (ta`ṭíl), it is proved that knowledge of God is not intuitive. Moreover, if it were so, the principle of religious obligation (taklíf) would be destroyed, for that principle cannot possibly be applied to objects of intuitive knowledge, such as one’s self, the heaven and the earth, day and night, pleasure and pain, etc., concerning the existence of which no reasonable man can have any doubt, and which he must know even against his will. But some aspirants to Ṣúfiism, considering the absolute certainty (yaqín) which they feel, say: “We know God intuitively,” giving the name of intuition to this certainty. Substantially they are right, but their expression is erroneous, because intuitive knowledge cannot be exclusively restricted to those who are perfect; on the contrary, it belongs to all reasonable men. Furthermore, it appears in the minds of living creatures without any means or evidence, whereas the knowledge of God is a means (sababí). But Master Abú `Alí Daqqáq and Shaykh Abú Sahl Ṣu`lúkí[[140]] and his father, who was a leading religious authority at Níshápúr, maintain that the beginning of gnosis is demonstrative and that its end is intuitive, just as technical knowledge is first acquired and finally becomes instinctive. “Do not you perceive,” they say, “that in Paradise knowledge of God becomes intuitive? Why should it not become intuitive in this world too? And the Apostles, when they heard the word of God, either immediately or from the mouth of an angel or by revelation, knew Him intuitively.” I reply that the inhabitants of Paradise know God intuitively in Paradise, because in Paradise no religious obligation is imposed, and the Apostles have no fear of being separated from God at the last, but enjoy the same security as those who know Him intuitively. The excellence of gnosis and faith lies in their being hidden; when they are made visible, faith becomes compulsory (jabr), and there is no longer any free will in regard to its visible substance (`ayn), and the foundations of the religious law are shaken, and the principle of apostasy is annulled, so that Bal`am[[141]] and Iblís and Barṣíṣá[[142]] cannot properly be described as infidels, for it is generally allowed that they had knowledge of God. The gnostic, while he remains a gnostic, has no fear of being separated from God; separation is produced by the loss of gnosis, but intuitive knowledge cannot conceivably be lost. This doctrine is full of danger to the vulgar. In order that you may avoid its evil consequences you must know that Man’s knowledge and his gnosis of God depend entirely on the information and eternal guidance of the Truth. Man’s certainty in gnosis may be now greater and now less, but the principle of gnosis is neither increased nor diminished, since in either case it would be impaired. You must not let blind conformity enter into your knowledge of God, and you must know Him through His attributes of perfection. This can be attained only through the providence and favour of God, who has absolute control of our minds. If He so will, He makes one of His actions a guide that shows us the way to Himself, and if He will otherwise, He makes that same action an obstacle that prevents us from reaching Him. Thus Jesus was to some a guide that led them to gnosis, but to others he was an obstacle that hindered them from gnosis; the former party said, “This is the servant of God,” and the latter said, “This is the son of God.” Similarly, some were led to God by idols and by the sun and moon, while others were led astray. Such guides are a means of gnosis, but not the immediate cause of it, and one means is no better than another in relation to Him who is the author of them all. The gnostic’s affirmation of a means is a sign of dualism (zunnár), and regard to anything except the object of knowledge is polytheism (shirk). When a man is doomed to perdition in the Preserved Tablet, nay, in the will and knowledge of God, how can any proof and demonstration lead him aright? The most high God, as He pleases and by whatever means He pleases, shows His servant the way to Himself and opens to him the door of gnosis, so that he attains to a degree where the very essence of gnosis appears alien (ghayr) and its attributes become noxious to him, and he is veiled by his gnosis from the object known and realizes that his gnosis is a pretension (da`wá). Dhu `l-Nún the Egyptian says: “Beware lest thou make pretensions to gnosis,” and it has been said in verse—
“The gnostics pretend to knowledge,
But I avow ignorance: that is my knowledge.”
Therefore do not claim gnosis, lest thou perish in thy pretension, but cleave to the reality thereof, that thou mayest be saved. When anyone is honoured by the revelation of the Divine majesty, his existence becomes a plague to him and all his attributes a source of corruption. He who belongs to God and to whom God belongs is not connected with anything in the universe. The real gist of gnosis is to recognize that to God is the kingdom. When a man knows that all possessions are in the absolute control of God, what further business has he with mankind, that he should be veiled from God by them or by himself? All such veils are the result of ignorance. As soon as ignorance is annihilated, they vanish, and this life is made equal in rank to the life hereafter.
Section.
Now, for instruction’s sake, I will mention some of the numerous sayings which the Shaykhs have uttered on this subject.
`Abdalláh b. Mubárak says: “Gnosis consists in not being astonished by anything,” because astonishment arises from an act exceeding the power of the doer, and inasmuch as God is omnipotent it is impossible that a gnostic should be astonished by His acts. If there be any room for astonishment, one must needs marvel that God exalts a handful of earth to such a degree that it receives His commands, and a drop of blood to such an eminence that it discourses of love and knowledge of Him, and seeks vision of Him, and desires union with Him. Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian says: “Gnosis is in reality God’s providential communication of the spiritual light to our inmost hearts,” i.e., until God, in His providence, illuminates the heart of Man and keeps it from contamination, so that all created things have not even the worth of a mustard-seed in his heart, the contemplation of Divine mysteries, both inward and outward, does not overwhelm him with rapture; but when God has done this, his every look becomes an act of contemplation (musháhadat). Shiblí says: “Gnosis is continual amazement (ḥayrat).” Amazement is of two kinds: (1) amazement at the essence and (2) amazement at the quality. The former is polytheism and infidelity, because no gnostic can possibly be in doubt concerning the essential nature of God; but the latter is gnosis, because the quality of God lies beyond reason’s scope. Hence a certain one said: “O Guide of the amazed, increase my amazement!” In the first place, he affirmed the existence of God and the perfection of His attributes, and recognized that He is the object of men’s search and the accomplisher of their prayers and the author of their amazement; then he asked for increase of amazement and recognized that in seeking God the reason has no alternative between amazement and polytheism. This sentiment is very fine. It may be, again, that knowledge of God’s being involves amazement at one’s own being, because when a man knows God he sees himself entirely subdued by the Divine omnipotence; and since his existence depends on God and his non-existence proceeds from God, and his rest and motion are produced by the power of God, he becomes amazed, saying: “Who and what am I?” In this sense the Apostle said: “He who knows himself has come to know his Lord,” i.e. he who knows himself to be annihilated knows God to be eternally subsistent. Annihilation destroys reason and all human attributes, and when the substance of a thing is not accessible to reason it cannot possibly be known without amazement. Abú Yazíd said: “Gnosis consists in knowing that the motion and rest of mankind depend on God,” and that without His permission no one has the least control of His kingdom, and that no one can perform any action until He creates the ability to act and puts the will to act in his heart, and that human actions are metaphorical and that God is the real agent. Muḥammad b. Wási` says, describing the gnostic: “His words are few and his amazement perpetual,” because only finite things admit of being expressed in words, and since the infinite cannot be expressed it leaves no resource except perpetual amazement. Shiblí says: “Real gnosis is the inability to attain gnosis,” i.e. inability to know a thing, to the real nature of which a man has no clue except the impossibility of attaining it. Therefore, in attaining it, he will rightly take no credit to himself, because inability (`ajz) is search, and so long as he depends on his own faculties and attributes, he cannot properly be described by that term; and when these faculties and attributes depart, then his state is not inability, but annihilation. Some pretenders, while affirming the attributes of humanity and the subsistence of the obligation to decide with sound judgment (taklíf ba-ṣiḥḥat-i khiṭáb) and the authority maintained over them by God’s proof, declare that gnosis is impotence, and that they are impotent and unable to attain anything. I reply: “In search of what thing have you become so helpless?” Impotence (`ajz) has two signs, which are not to be found in you: firstly, the annihilation of the faculties of search, and secondly, the manifestation of the glory of God (tajallí). Where the annihilation of the faculties takes place, there is no outward expression (`ibárat); and where the glory of God is revealed, no clue can be given and no discrimination is conceivable. Hence one who is impotent does not know that he is so, or that the state attributed to him is called impotence. How should he know this? Impotence is other than God, and the affirmation of knowledge of other than God is not gnosis; and so long as there is room in the heart for aught except God, or the possibility of expressing aught except God, true gnosis has not been attained. The gnostic is not a gnostic until he turns aside from all that is not God. Abú Ḥafṣ Ḥaddád says: “Since I have known God, neither truth nor falsehood has entered my heart.” When a man feels desire and passion he turns to the soul (dil) in order that it may guide him to the lower soul (nafs), which is the seat of falsehood; and when he finds the evidence of gnosis, he also turns to the soul in order that it may guide him to the spirit, which is the source of truth and reality. But when aught except God enters the soul, the gnostic, if he turns to it, commits an act of agnosticism. There is a great difference between one who turns to the soul and one who turns to God. Abú Bakr Wásiṭí says: “He who knows God is cut off from all things, nay, he is dumb and abject (kharisa wa-´nqama`a),” i.e. he is unable to express anything and all his attributes are annihilated. So the Apostle, while he was in the state of absence, said: “I am the most eloquent of the Arabs and non-Arabs”; but when he was borne to the presence of God, he said: “I know not how to utter Thy praise.” Answer came: “O Muḥammad, if thou speakest not, I will speak; if thou deemest thyself unworthy to praise Me, I will make the universe thy deputy, that all its atoms may praise Me in thy name.”
[140]. See Nafaḥát, No. 373.
[141]. See Baydáwí on Kor. vii, 174.
[142]. See Goldziher & Landberg, Die Legende vom Mönch Barṣīṣā (1896), and M. Hartmann, Der heilige Barṣīṣā in Der Islamische Orient (1905), i, 23-8.]
CHAPTER XVI.
The Uncovering of the Second Veil: Concerning Unification (tawḥíd).
God said, “Your God is one” (Kor. xvi, 23); and again, “Say, ‘God is one’” (Kor. cxii, 1). And the Apostle said: “Long ago there was a man who did no good work except that he pronounced God to be one. When he was dying he said to his folk: ‘After my death burn me and gather my ashes and on a windy day throw half of them into the sea, and scatter half of them to the winds of the earth, that no trace of me may be left.’ As soon as he died and this was done, God bade the air and the water keep the ashes which they had received until the Resurrection; and when He raises that man from the dead, He will ask him why he caused himself to be burnt, and he will reply: ‘O Lord, from shame of Thee, for I was a great sinner,’ and God will pardon him.”
Real unification (tawḥíd) consists in asserting the unity of a thing and in having a perfect knowledge of its unity. Inasmuch as God is one, without any sharer in His essence and attributes, without any substitute, without any partner in His actions, and inasmuch as Unitarians (muwaḥḥidán) have acknowledged that He is such, their knowledge of unity is called unification.
Unification is of three kinds: (1) God’s unification of God, i.e. His knowledge of His unity; (2) God’s unification of His creatures, i.e. His decree that a man shall pronounce Him to be one, and the creation of unification in his heart; (3) men’s unification of God, i.e. their knowledge of the unity of God. Therefore, when a man knows God he can declare His unity and pronounce that He is one, incapable of union and separation, not admitting duality; that His unity is not a number so as to be made two by the predication of another number; that He is not finite so as to have six directions; that He has no space, and that He is not in space, so as to require the predication of space; that He is not an accident, so as to need a substance, nor a substance, which cannot exist without another like itself, nor a natural constitution (ṭab`í), in which motion and rest originate, nor a spirit so as to need a frame, nor a body so as to be composed of limbs; and that He does not become immanent (ḥáll) in things, for then He must be homogeneous with them; and that He is not joined to anything, for then that thing must be a part of Him; and that He is free from all imperfections and exalted above all defects; and that He has no like, so that He and His creature should make two; and that He has no child whose begetting would necessarily cause Him to be a stock (aṣl); and that His essence and attributes are unchangeable; and that He is endowed with those attributes of perfection which believers and Unitarians affirm, and which He has described Himself as possessing; and that He is exempt from those attributes which heretics arbitrarily impute to Him; and that He is Living, Knowing, Forgiving, Merciful, Willing, Powerful, Hearing, Seeing, Speaking, and Subsistent; and that His knowledge is not a state (ḥál) in Him, nor His power solidly planted (ṣalábat) in Him, nor His hearing and sight detached (mutajarrid) in Him, nor His speech divided in Him; and that He together with His attributes exists from eternity; and that objects of cognition are not outside of His knowledge, and that entities are entirely dependent on His will; and that He does that which He has willed, and wills that which He has known, and no creature has cognisance thereof; and that His decree is an absolute fact, and that His friends have no resource except resignation; and that He is the sole predestinator of good and evil, and the only being that is worthy of hope or fear; and that He creates all benefit and injury; and that He alone gives judgment, and His judgment is all wisdom; and that no one has any possibility of attaining unto Him; and that the inhabitants of Paradise shall behold Him; and that assimilation (tashbíh) is inadmissible; and that such terms as “confronting” and “seeing face to face” (muqábalat ú muwájahat) cannot be applied to His being; and that His saints may enjoy the contemplation (musháhadat) of Him in this world.
Those who do not acknowledge Him to be such are guilty of impiety. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, said at the beginning of this chapter that unification consists in declaring the unity of a thing, and that such a declaration cannot be made without knowledge. The Sunnís have declared the unity of God with true comprehension, because, seeing a subtle work and a unique act, they recognized that it could not possibly exist by itself, and finding manifest evidences of origination (ḥudúth) in every thing, they perceived that there must be an Agent who brought the universe into being—the earth and heaven and sun and moon and land and sea and all that moves and rests and their knowledge and speech and life and death. For all these an artificer was indispensable. Accordingly, the Sunnís, rejecting the notion that there are two or three artificers, declared themselves satisfied with a single artificer who is perfect, living, knowing, almighty, and unpartnered. And inasmuch as an act requires at least one agent, and the existence of two agents for one act involves the dependence of one on the other, it follows that the Agent is unquestionably and certainly one. Here we are at variance with the dualists, who affirm light and darkness, and with the Magians, who affirm Yazdán and Ahriman, and with the natural philosophers (ṭabá´i`iyán), who affirm nature and potentiality (quwwat), and with the astronomers (falakiyán), who affirm the seven planets, and with the Mu`tazilites, who affirm creators and artificers without end. I have briefly refuted all these vain opinions in a book, entitled Al-Ri`áyat li-ḥuqúq Allah,[[143]] to which or to the works of the ancient theologians I must refer anyone who desires further information. Now I will turn to the indications which the Shaykhs have given on this subject.
Section.
It is related that Junayd said: “Unification is the separation of the eternal from that which was originated in time,” i.e. you must not regard the eternal as a locus of phenomena, or phenomena as a locus of the eternal; and you must know that God is eternal and that you are phenomenal, and that nothing of your genus is connected with Him, and that nothing of His attributes is mingled in you, and that there is no homogeneity between the eternal and the phenomenal. This is contrary to the above-mentioned doctrine of those who hold the spirit to be eternal. When the eternal is believed to descend into phenomena, or phenomena to be attached to the eternal, no proof remains of the eternity of God and the origination of the universe; and this leads to materialism (madhhab-i dahriyán). In all the actions of phenomena there are proofs of unification and evidences of the Divine omnipotence and signs which establish the eternity of God, but men are too heedless to desire only Him or to be content only with keeping Him in remembrance. Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj) says: “The first step in unification is the annihilation of separation (tafríd),” because separation is the pronouncement that one has become separated from imperfections (áfát), while unification is the declaration of a thing’s unity: therefore in isolation (fardániyyat) it is possible to affirm that which is other than God, and this quality may be ascribed to others besides God; but in unity (waḥdániyyat) it is not possible to affirm other than God, and unity may not be ascribed to anything except Him. Accordingly, the first step in unification is to deny (that God has) a partner (sharík) and to put admixture (mizáj) aside, for admixture on the way (to God) is like seeking the highway with a lamp (mizáj andar minháj chún ṭalab-i minháj báshad ba-siráj). And Ḥuṣrí says: “Our principles in unification are five: the removal of phenomenality, and the affirmation of eternity, and departure from familiar haunts, and separation from brethren, and forgetfulness of what is known and unknown.” The removal of phenomenality consists in denying that phenomena have any connexion with unification or that they can possibly attain to His holy essence; and the affirmation of eternity consists in being convinced that God always existed, as I have already explained in discussing the saying of Junayd; and departure from familiar haunts means, for the novice, departure from the habitual pleasures of the lower soul and the forms of this world, and for the adept, departure from lofty stations and glorious states and exalted miracles (karámát); and separation from brethren means turning away from the society of mankind and turning towards the society of God, since any thought of other than God is a veil and an imperfection, and the more a man’s thoughts are associated with other than God the more is he veiled from God, because it is universally agreed that unification is the concentration of thoughts (jam`-i himam), whereas to be content with other than God is a sign of dispersion of thought (tafriqa-i himmat); and forgetfulness of a thing which is known or unknown means the unification of that thing, for unification denies whatever the knowledge of mankind affirms about it; and whatever their ignorance affirms about it is merely contrary to their knowledge, for ignorance is not unification, and knowledge of the reality of unification cannot be attained without denying the personal initiative (taṣarruf) in which knowledge and ignorance consist. A certain Shaykh relates: “While Ḥuṣrí was speaking to an audience, I fell asleep and dreamed that two angels came down from Heaven and listened for some time to his discourse. Then one said to the other, ‘What this man says is the theory (`ilm) of unification, not unification itself (`ayn).’ When I awoke he was explaining unification. He looked at me and said, ‘O So-and-so, it is impossible to speak of unification except theoretically.’” It is related that Junayd said: “Unification is this, that one should be a figure (shakhṣ) in the hands of God, a figure over which His decrees pass according as He in His omnipotence determines, and that one should be sunk in the seas of His unity, self-annihilated and dead alike to the call of mankind to him and his answer to them, absorbed by the reality of the Divine unity in true proximity, and lost to sense and action, because God fulfils in him what He hath willed of him, namely, that his last state should become his first state, and that he should be as he was before he existed.” All this means that the Unitarian in the will of God has no more a will of his own, and in the unity of God no regard to himself, so that he becomes like an atom as he was in the eternal past when the covenant of unification was made, and God answered the question which He Himself had asked, and that atom was only the object of His speech.[[144]] Mankind have no joy in such a one that they should call him to anything, and he has no friendship with anyone that he should respond to their call. This saying indicates the annihilation of human attributes and perfect resignation to God in the state when a man is overpowered by the revelation of His majesty, so that he becomes a passive instrument and a subtle substance that feels nothing, and his body is a repository for the mysteries of God, to whom his speech and actions are attributed; but, unconscious of all as he is, he remains subject to the ordinances of the religious law, to the end that the proof of God may be established. Such was the Apostle when on the night of the Ascension he was borne to the station of proximity; he desired that his body should be destroyed and his personality be dissolved, but God’s purpose was to establish His proof. He bade the Apostle remain in the state that he was in; whereupon he gained strength and displayed the existence of God from out of his own non-existence and said, “I am not as one of you. Verily, I pass the night with my Lord, and he gives me food and drink”; and he also said, “I am with God in a state in which none of the cherubim nor any prophet is capable of being contained with me.” It is related that Sahl b. `Abdalláh said: “Unification is this, that you should recognize that the essence of God is endowed with knowledge, that it is not comprehensible nor visible to the eye in this world, but that it exists in the reality of faith, infinite, incomprehensible, non-incarnate; and that He will be seen in the next world, outwardly and inwardly in His kingdom and His power; and that mankind are veiled from knowledge of the ultimate nature of His essence; and that their hearts know Him, but their intellects cannot reach unto Him; and that believers shall behold Him with their (spiritual) eyes, without comprehending His infinity.” This saying includes all the principles of unification. And Junayd said: “The noblest saying concerning unification is that of Abú Bakr: ‘Glory to God, who has not vouchsafed to His creatures any means of attaining unto knowledge of Him except through impotence to attain unto knowledge of Him.’” Many have mistaken the meaning of these words of Abú Bakr and suppose that impotence to attain to gnosis is the same thing as agnosticism. This is absurd, because impotence refers only to an existing state, not to a state that is non-existent. For example, a dead man is not incapable of life, but he cannot be alive while he is dead; and a blind man is not incapable of seeing, but he cannot see while he is blind. Therefore, a gnostic is not incapable of gnosis so long as gnosis is existent, for in that case his gnosis resembles intuition. The saying of Abú Bakr may be brought into connexion with the doctrine of Abú Sahl Ṣu`lúkí and Master Abú `Alí Daqqáq, who assert that gnosis is acquired in the first instance, but finally becomes intuitive. The possessor of intuitive knowledge is compelled and incapable of putting it away or drawing it to himself. Hence, according to what Abú Bakr says, unification is the act of God in the heart of His creature. Shiblí says: “Unification veils the Unitarian from the beauty of Oneness,” because unification is said to be the act of Man, and an act of Man does not cause the revelation of God, and in the reality of revelation that which does not cause revelation is a veil. Man with all his attributes is other than God, for if his attributes are accounted Divine, then he himself must be accounted Divine, and then Unitarian, unification, and the One become, all three, causes of the existence of one another; and this is precisely the Christian Trinity. If any attribute prevents the seeker of God from annihilating himself in unification, he is still veiled by that attribute, and while he is veiled he is not a Unitarian, for all except God is vanity. This is the interpretation of “There is no god but God”.[[145]]
The Shaykhs have discussed at large the terms by which unification is denoted. Some say that it is an annihilation that cannot properly be attained unless the attributes subsist, while others say that it has no attribute whatever except annihilation. The analogy of union and separation (jam` ú tafriqa) must be applied to this question in order that it may be understood. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, declare that unification is a mystery revealed by God to His servants, and that it cannot be expressed in language at all, much less in high-sounding phrases. The explanatory terms and those who use them are other than God, and to affirm what is other than God in unification is to affirm polytheism.
[143]. “The Observance of what is due to God.”
[144]. Kor. vii, 171.
[145]. Here the author cites an anecdote of Ibráhím al-Khawwáṣ and al-Ḥalláj which has been related above. See p. [205].
CHAPTER XVII.
The Uncovering of the Third Veil: Concerning Faith (ímán).
The Apostle said: “Faith is belief in God and His angels and His (revealed) books.” Etymologically, faith (ímán) means verification (taṣdíq). Concerning its principles in their application to the religious law there is great discussion and controversy. The Mu`tazilites hold that faith includes all acts of devotion, theoretical as well as practical: hence they say that sin puts a man outside the pale of faith. The Khárijites, who call a man an infidel because he commits a sin, are of the same opinion. Some declare that faith is simply a verbal profession, while others say it is only knowledge of God, and a party of Sunní scholastics assert that it is mere verification. I have written a separate work explaining this subject, but my present purpose is to establish what the Ṣúfí Shaykhs believe. They are divided on this question in the same way as the lawyers of the two opposite sects. Some of them, e.g. Fuḍayl b. `Iyáḍ and Bishr Ḥáfí and Khayr al-Nassáj and Sumnún al-Muḥibb and Abú Ḥamza of Baghdád and Muḥammad Jurayrí and a great number of others, hold that faith is verbal profession and verification and practice; but others, e.g. Ibráhím b. Adham and Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian and Abú Yazíd of Bisṭám and Abú Sulaymán Dárání and Ḥárith Muḥásibí and Junayd and Sahl b. `Abdalláh of Tustar and Shaqíq of Balkh and Ḥátim Aṣamm and Muḥammad b. al-Faḍl of Balkh and a number besides, hold that faith is verbal profession and verification. Some lawyers, i.e. Málik and Sháfi`í and Aḥmad b. Ḥanbal, maintain the former view, while the latter opinion is supported by Abú Ḥanífa and Ḥusayn b. Faḍl of Balkh and the followers of Abú Ḥanífa, such as Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan, Dáwud Ṭá´í, and Abú Yúsuf. The difference between them is entirely one of expression and is devoid of substance, as I will now briefly explain, in order that no one may be charged with contradicting the principle of faith because he takes the one view or the other in this dispute.
Section.
You must know that the orthodox Moslems and the Ṣúfís are agreed that faith has a principle (aṣl) and a derivative (far`), the principle being verification in the heart, and the derivative being observance of the (Divine) command. Now the Arabs commonly and customarily transfer the name of a principle to a derivative by way of metaphor, e.g. they call the light of the sun “the sun”. In this sense the former of the two parties mentioned above apply the name of faith to that obedience (ṭá`at) by which alone a man is made secure from future punishment. Mere verification (i.e. belief), without performance of the Divine commands, does not involve security. Therefore, since security is in proportion to obedience, and obedience together with verification and verbal profession is the cause of security, they bestowed on obedience the name of faith. The other party, however, asserted that gnosis, not obedience, is the cause of security. Obedience, they said, is of no avail without gnosis, whereas one who has gnosis but lacks obedience will be saved at the last, although it depends on the will of God whether he shall be pardoned by Divine grace or through the intercession of the Apostle, or whether he shall be punished according to the measure of his sin and then be delivered from Hell and transported to Paradise. Therefore, since those who have gnosis, although they are sinners, by reason of their gnosis do not remain for ever in Hell, while those who have only works without gnosis do not enter Paradise, it follows that here obedience is not the cause of security. The Apostle said: “None of you shall be saved by his works.” Hence in reality, without any controversy among Moslems, faith is gnosis and acknowledgment and acceptance of works. Whoever knows God knows Him by one of His attributes, and the most elect of His attributes are of three kinds: those connected with His beauty (jamál) and with His majesty (jalál) and with His perfection (kamál). His perfection is not attainable except by those whose perfection is established and whose imperfection is banished. There remain beauty and majesty. Those whose evidence in gnosis is the beauty of God are always longing for vision, and those whose evidence is His majesty are always abhorring their own attributes and their hearts are stricken with awe. Now longing is an effect of love, and so is abhorrence of human attributes, because the lifting of the veil of human attributes is the very essence of love. Therefore faith and gnosis are love, and obedience is a sign of love. Whoever denies this neglects the command of God and knows nothing of gnosis. This evil is manifest among the aspirants to Ṣúfiism at the present day. Some heretics, seeing their excellence and persuaded of their high degree, imitate them and say: “Trouble only lasts while you do not know God: as soon as you know Him, all the labour of obedience is removed from the body.” But they are wrong. I reply that when you know Him, the heart is filled with longing and His command is held in greater veneration than before. I admit that a pious man may reach a point where he is relieved from the irksomeness of obedience through the increase of Divine aid (tawfíq), so that he performs without trouble what is troublesome to others; but this result cannot be achieved without a longing that produces violent agitation. Some, again, say that faith comes entirely from God, while others say that it springs entirely from Man. This has long been a matter of controversy among the people in Transoxania. To assert that faith comes entirely from God is sheer compulsion (jabr), because Man must then have no choice; and to assert that it springs entirely from Man is pure free-will, for Man does not know God except through the knowledge that God gives him. The doctrine of unification is less than compulsion and more than free-will. Similarly, faith is really the act of Man joined to the guidance of God, as God hath said: “Whomsoever God wishes to lead aright, He will open his breast to receive Islam; and whomsoever He wishes to lead astray, He will make his breast strait and narrow” (Kor. vi, 125). On this principle, inclination to believe (girawish) is the guidance of God, while belief (girawídan) is the act of Man. The signs of belief are these: in the heart, holding firmly to unification; in the eye, refraining from forbidden sights and looking heedfully on evidences; in the ear, listening to His word; in the belly, being empty of what is unlawful; in the tongue, veracity. Hence those persons (who assert that faith comes entirely from God) maintain that gnosis and faith may increase and diminish, which is generally admitted to be false, for if it were true, then the object of gnosis must also be liable to increase and diminution. Accordingly, the increase and diminution must be in the derivative, which is the act; and it is generally agreed that obedience may diminish and increase. This does not please the anthropomorphists (ḥashwiyán) who imitate the two parties mentioned above, for some of them hold that obedience is an element of faith, while others declare that faith is a verbal profession and nothing else. Both these doctrines are unjust.
In short, faith is really the absorption of all human attributes in the search of God. This must be unanimously acknowledged by all believers. The might of gnosis overwhelms the attributes of agnosticism, and where faith exists agnosticism is banished, for, as it is said: “A lamp is of no use when the dawn rises.” God hath said: “Kings, when they enter a city, ruin it” (Kor. xxvii, 34). When gnosis is established in the heart of the gnostic, the empire of doubt and scepticism and agnosticism is utterly destroyed, and the sovereignty of gnosis subdues his senses and passions so that in all his looks and acts and words he remains within the circle of its authority. I have read that when Ibráhím Khawwáṣ was asked concerning the reality of faith, he replied: “I have no answer to this question just now, because whatever I say is a mere expression, and it behoves me to answer by my actions; but I am setting out for Mecca: do thou accompany me that thou mayest be answered.” The narrator continues: “I consented. As we journeyed through the desert, every day two loaves and two cups of water appeared. He gave one to me and took the other for himself. One day an old man rode up to us and dismounted and conversed with Ibráhím for a while; then he left us. I asked Ibráhím to tell me who he was. He replied: ‘This is the answer to thy question.’ ‘How so?’ I asked. He said: ‘This was Khiḍr, who begged me to let him accompany me, but I refused, for I feared that in his company I might put confidence in him instead of in God, and then my trust in God (tawakkul) would have been vitiated. Real faith is trust in God.’” And Muḥammad b. Khafíf says: “Faith is the belief of the heart in that knowledge which comes from the Unseen,” because faith is in that which is hidden, and it can be attained only through Divine strengthening of one’s certainty, which is the result of knowledge bestowed by God.
Now I will come to matters of practice and will explain their difficulties.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Uncovering of the Fourth Veil: Concerning Purification from Foulness.
After faith, the first thing incumbent on everyone is purification (ṭahárat) and the performance of prayer, i.e. to cleanse the body from filth and pollution, and to wash the three members,[[146]] and to wipe the head with water as the law prescribes, or to use sand in the absence of water or in severe illness. Purification is of two kinds: outward and inward. Thus prayer requires purification of the body, and gnosis requires purification of the heart. As, in the former case, the water must be clean, so in the latter case unification must be pure and belief undefiled. The Ṣúfís are always engaged in purification outwardly and in unification inwardly. The Apostle said to one of his Companions: “Be constant in ablution, that thy two guardian angels may love thee,” and God hath said: “God loves those who often repent and those who purify themselves” (Kor. ii, 222). And the Apostle used to say in his invocations: “O God, purify my heart from hypocrisy.” Even consciousness of the miraculous grace (karámát) vouchsafed to him he regarded as an affirmation of other than God, for in unification it is hypocrisy (nifáq) to affirm other than God. So long as a disciple’s eye is obscured by a single atom of the miracles of the Shaykhs, from the standpoint of perfection that atom is a potential veil (between him and God). Hence Abú Yazíd said: “The hypocrisy of gnostics is better than the sincerity of disciples,” i.e. that which is a “station” (maqám) to the novice is a veil to the adept. The novice desires to gain miracles, but the adept desires to gain the Giver of miracles. In short, the affirmation of miracles, or of anything that involves the sight of other than God, appears hypocrisy to the people of the Truth (the Ṣúfís). Accordingly, what is noxious to the friends of God is a means of deliverance for all sinners, and what is noxious to sinners is a means of salvation for all infidels, because, if infidels knew, as sinners know, that their sins are displeasing to God, they would all be saved from infidelity; and if sinners knew, as the friends of God know, that all their actions are defective, they would all be saved from sin and purged of contamination. Therefore, outward and inward purification must go together; e.g., when a man washes his hands he must wash his heart clean of worldliness, and when he puts water in his mouth he must purify his mouth from the mention of other than God, and when he washes his face he must turn away from all familiar objects and turn towards God, and when he wipes his head he must resign his affairs to God, and when he washes his feet he must not form the intention of taking his stand on anything except according to the command of God. Thus he will be doubly purified. In all religious ordinances the external is combined with the internal; e.g. in faith, the tongue’s profession with the heart’s belief. The method of spiritual purification is to reflect and meditate on the evil of this world and to perceive that it is false and fleeting, and to make the heart empty of it. This result can be attained only by much self-mortification (mujáhadat), and the most important act of mortification is to observe the external rules of discipline (ádáb-i ẕáhir) assiduously in all circumstances. It is related that Ibráhím Khawwáṣ said: “I desire God to give me an everlasting life in this world, in order that, while mankind are engrossed in the pleasures of the world and forget God, I may observe the rules of religion amidst the affliction of the world and remember God.” And it is related that Abú Ṭáhir Ḥaramí lived forty years at Mecca, and went outside of the sacred territory whenever he purified himself, because he would not pour the water which he had used for that purpose on ground that God had called His. When Ibráhím Khawwáṣ was ill of dysentery in the congregational mosque at Rayy, he performed sixty complete ablutions in the course of a day and night, and he died in the water. Abú `Alí Rúdbárí was for some time afflicted with distracting thoughts (waswás) in purification. “One day,” he said, “I went into the sea at dawn and stayed there till sunrise. During that interval my mind was troubled. I cried out: ‘O God, restore me to spiritual health!’ A voice answered from the sea: ‘Health consists in knowledge.’” It is related that when Sufyán Thawrí was dying, he purified himself sixty times for one prayer and said: “I shall at least be clean when I leave this world.” They relate of Shiblí that one day he purified himself with the intention of entering the mosque. He heard a voice cry: “Thou hast washed thy outward self, but where is thy inward purity?” He turned back and gave away all that he possessed, and during a year he put on no more clothes than were necessary for prayer. Then he came to Junayd, who said to him: “O Abú Bakr, that was a very beneficial purification which you have performed; may God always keep you purified!” After that, Shiblí engaged in continual purification. When he was dying and could no longer purify himself, he made a sign to one of his disciples that he should purify him. The disciple did so, but forgot to let the water flow through his beard (takhlíl-i maḥásin). Shiblí was unable to speak. He seized the disciple’s hand and pointed to his beard, whereupon the rite was duly performed. And it is also related of him that he said: “Whenever I have neglected any rule of purification, some vain conceit has always arisen in my heart.” And Abú Yazíd said: “Whenever a thought of this world occurs to my mind, I perform a purification (ṭaháratí); and whenever a thought of the next world occurs to me, I perform a complete ablution (ghuslí),” because this world is non-eternal (muḥdath), and the result of thinking of it is legal impurity (ḥadath), whereas the next world is the place of absence and repose (ghaybat ú árám), and the result of thinking of it is pollution (janábat): hence legal impurity involves purification and pollution involves total ablution. One day Shiblí purified himself. When he came to the door of the mosque a voice whispered in his heart: “Art thou so pure that thou enterest My house with this boldness?” He turned back, but the voice asked: “Dost thou turn back from My door? Whither wilt thou go?” He uttered a loud cry. The voice said: “Dost thou revile me?” He stood silent. The voice said: “Dost thou pretend to endure My affliction?” Shiblí exclaimed: “O God, I implore Thee to help me against Thyself.”
The Ṣúfí Shaykhs have fully discussed the true meaning of purification, and have commanded their disciples not to cease from purifying themselves both outwardly and inwardly. He who would serve God must purify himself outwardly with water, and he who would come nigh unto God must purify himself inwardly with repentance. Now I will explain the principles of repentance (tawbat) and its corollaries.
Chapter concerning Repentance and its Corollaries.
You must know that repentance (tawbat) is the first station of pilgrims on the way to the Truth, just as purification (ṭahárat) is the first step of those who desire to serve God. Hence God hath said: “O believers, repent unto God with a sincere repentance” (Kor. lxvi, 8). And the Apostle said, “There is nothing that God loves more than a youth who repents”; and he also said, “He who repents of sin is even as one who has no sin”; then he added, “When God loves a man, sin shall not hurt him,” i.e. he will not become an infidel on account of sin, and his faith will not be impaired. Etymologically tawbat means “return”, and tawbat really involves the turning back from what God has forbidden through fear of what He has commanded. The Apostle said: “Penitence is the act of returning” (al-nadam al-tawbat). This saying comprises three things which are involved in tawbat, namely, (1) remorse for disobedience, (2) immediate abandonment of sin, and (3) determination not to sin again. As repentance (tawbat) involves these three conditions, so contrition (nadámat) may be due to three causes: (1) fear of Divine chastisement and sorrow for evil actions, (2) desire of Divine favour and certainty that it cannot be gained by evil conduct and disobedience, (3) shame before God. In the first case the penitent is tá´ib, in the second case he is muníb, in the third case he is awwáb. Similarly, tawbat has three stations, viz., tawbat, through fear of Divine punishment; inábat, through desire of Divine reward; and awbat, for the sake of keeping the Divine command. Tawbat is the station of the mass of believers, and implies repentance from great sins (kabírat);[[147]] and inábat is the station of the saints and favourites of God (awliyá ú muqarrabán);[[148]] and awbat is the station of the prophets and apostles.[[149]] Tawbat is to return from great sins to obedience; inábat is to return from minor sins to love; and awbat is to return from one’s self to God. Repentance (tawbat) has its origin in the stern prohibitions of God and in the heart’s being aroused from the slumber of heedlessness. When a man considers his evil conduct and abominable deeds he seeks deliverance therefrom, and God makes it easy for him to repent and leads him back to the sweetness of obedience. According to the opinion of orthodox Moslems and all the Ṣúfí Shaykhs, a man who has repented of one sin may continue to commit other sins and nevertheless receive Divine recompense for having abstained from that one sin; and it may be that through the blessing of that recompense he will abstain from other sins. But the Bahshamí[[150]] sect of the Mu`tazilites hold that no one can properly be called repentant unless he avoids all great sins, a doctrine which is absurd, because a man is not punished for the sins that he does not commit, but if he renounces a certain kind of sin he has no fear of being punished for sins of that particular kind: consequently, he is repentant. Similarly, if he performs some religious duties and neglects others, he will be rewarded for those which he performed and will be punished for those which he neglected. Moreover, if anyone should have repented of a sin which he has not the means of committing at the moment, he is repentant, because through that past repentance he has gained contrition (nadámat), which is a fundamental part of repentance (tawbat), and at the moment he has turned his back on that kind of sin and is resolved not to commit it again, even though he should have the power and means of doing so at some future time. As regards the nature and property of repentance, the Ṣúfí Shaykhs hold diverse opinions. Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) and others believe that repentance consists in not forgetting your sins, but always regretting them, so that, although you have many good works to your credit, you will not be pleased with yourself on that account; since remorse for an evil action is superior to good works, and one who never forgets his sins will never become conceited. Junayd and others take the opposite view, that repentance consists in forgetting the sin. They argue that the penitent is a lover of God, and the lover of God is in contemplation of God, and in contemplation it is wrong to remember sin, for remembrance of sin is a veil between God and those who contemplate Him. This controversy goes back to the difference of opinion concerning mortification (mujáhadat) and contemplation (musháhadat), which has been discussed in my account of the doctrine of the Sahlís. Those who hold the penitent to be self-dependent regard his forgetfulness of sin as heedlessness, while those who hold that he is dependent on God deem his remembrance of sin to be polytheism. Moses, while his attributes were subsistent, said, “I repent towards Thee” (Kor. vii, 140), but the Apostle, while his attributes were annihilated, said, “I cannot tell Thy praise.” Inasmuch as it behoves the penitent not to remember his own selfhood, how should he remember his sin? Indeed, remembrance of sin is a sin, for sin is an occasion of turning away from God, and so is the remembrance of it or the forgetting of it, since both remembrance and forgetfulness are connected with one’s self. Junayd says: “I have read many books, but I have never found anything so instructive as this verse:—
‘Idhá qultu má adhnabtu qálat mujíbatan
ḥayátuka dhanbun lá yuqásu bihi dhanbu.’
When I say: ‘What is my sin?’ she says in reply:
‘Thy existence is a sin with which no other sin can be compared.’“
In short, repentance is a Divine strengthening and sin is a corporeal act: when contrition (nadámat) enters the heart the body has no means of expelling it; and as in the beginning no human act can expel repentance, so in the end no human act can maintain it. God hath said: ”And He turned (tába) unto him (Adam), for He is the Disposer towards repentance (al—tawwáb), the Merciful” (Kor. ii, 35). The Koran contains many texts to the same effect, which are too well known to require citation.
Repentance is of three kinds: (1) from what is wrong to what is right, (2) from what is right to what is more right, (3) from selfhood to God. The first kind is the repentance of ordinary men; the second kind is the repentance of the elect; and the third kind of repentance belongs to the degree of Divine love (maḥabbat). As regards the elect, it is impossible that they should repent of sin. Do not you perceive that all the world feel regret for having lost the vision of God? Moses desired that vision and repented (Kor. vii, 140), because he asked for it with his own volition (ikhtiyár), for in love personal volition is a taint. The people thought he had renounced the vision of God, but what he really renounced was his personal volition. As regards those who love God, they repent not only of the imperfection of a station below the station to which they have attained, but also of being conscious of any “station” or “state” whatsoever.
Section.
Repentance does not necessarily continue after the resolution not to return to sin has been duly made. A penitent who in those circumstances returns to sin has in principle earned the Divine reward for repentance. Many novices of this sect (the Ṣúfís) have repented and gone back to wickedness and then once more, in consequence of an admonition, have returned to God. A certain Shaykh relates that he repented seventy times and went back to sin on every occasion, until at the seventy-first time he became steadfast. And Abú `Amr b. Nujayd[[151]] tells the following story: “As a novice, I repented in the assembly-room of Abú `Uthmán Ḥírí and persevered in my repentance for some while. Then I fell into sin and left the society of that spiritual director, and whenever I saw him from afar my remorse caused me to flee from his sight. One day I met him unexpectedly. He said to me: ‘O son, do not associate with your enemies unless you are sinless (ma`ṣúm), for an enemy will see your faults and rejoice. If you must sin, come to us, that we may bear your affliction.’ On hearing his words, I felt surfeited with sin and my repentance was established.” A certain man, having repented of sin, returned to it and then repented once more. “How will it be,” he said, “if I now turn to God?” A heavenly voice answered, saying: “Thou didst obey Me and I recompensed thee, then thou didst abandon Me and I showed indulgence towards thee; and if thou wilt return to Me, I will receive thee.”
Section.
Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian says: “Ordinary men repent of their sins, but the elect repent of their heedlessness,” because ordinary men shall be questioned concerning their outward behaviour, but the elect shall be questioned concerning the real nature of their conduct. Heedlessness, which to ordinary men is a pleasure, is a veil to the elect. Abú Ḥafṣ Ḥaddád says: “Man has no part in repentance, because repentance is from God to Man, not from Man to God.” According to this saying, repentance is not acquired by Man, but is one of God’s gifts, a doctrine which is closely akin to that of Junayd. Abu ´l-Ḥasan Búshanjí says: “When you feel no delight in remembering a sin, that is repentance,” because the recollection of a sin is accompanied either by regret or by desire: one who regrets that he has committed a sin is repentant, whereas one who desires to commit a sin is a sinner. The actual sin is not so evil as the desire of it, for the act is momentary, but the desire is perpetual. Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian says: “There are two kinds of repentance, the repentance of return (tawbat al-inábat) and the repentance of shame (tawbat al-istiḥyá): the former is repentance through fear of Divine punishment, the latter is repentance through shame of Divine clemency.” The repentance of fear is caused by revelation of God’s majesty, while the repentance of shame is caused by vision of God’s beauty. Those who feel shame are intoxicated, and those who feel fear are sober.
[146]. The face, hands, and feet.
[147]. Cf. Kor. lxvi, 8.
[148]. Cf. Kor. l, 32.
[149]. Cf. Kor. xxxviii, 44.
[150]. Text, قهشميان. See Shahristání, Haarbrücker’s translation, i, 80.
[151]. Nafaḥát, No. 281.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Uncovering of the Fifth Veil: Concerning Prayer (al-ṣalát).
Etymologically, prayer (namáz) means remembrance (of God) and submissiveness (dhikr ú inqiyád), but in the correct usage of lawyers the term is specially applied to the five prayers which God has ordered to be performed at five different times, and which involve certain preliminary conditions, viz.: (1) purification outwardly from filth and inwardly from lust; (2) that one’s outward garment should be clean and one’s inner garment undefiled by anything unlawful; (3) that the place where one purifies one’s self should be outwardly free from contamination and inwardly free from corruptness and sin; (4) turning towards the qibla, the outward qibla being the Ka`ba and the inward qibla being the Throne of God, by which is meant the mystery of Divine contemplation; (5) standing outwardly in the state of power (qudrat) and inwardly in the garden of proximity to God (qurbat); (6) sincere intention to approach unto God; (7) saying “Allah akbar” in the station of awe and annihilation, and standing in the abode of union, and reciting the Koran distinctly and reverently, and bowing the head with humility, and prostrating one’s self with abasement, and making the profession of faith with concentration, and saluting with annihilation of one’s attributes. It is recorded in the Traditions that when the Apostle prayed, there was heard within him a sound like the boiling of a kettle. And when `Alí was about to pray, his hair stood on end and he trembled and said: “The hour has come to fulfil a trust which the heavens and the earth were unable to bear.”[[152]]
Section.
Prayer is a term in which novices find the whole way to God, from beginning to end, and in which their stations (maqámát) are revealed. Thus, for novices, purification takes the place of repentance, and dependence on a spiritual director takes the place of ascertaining the qibla, and standing in prayer takes the place of self-mortification, and reciting the Koran takes the place of inward meditation (dhikr), and bowing the head takes the place of humility, and prostration takes the place of self-knowledge, and profession of faith takes the place of intimacy (uns), and salutation takes the place of detachment from the world and escape from the bondage of “stations”. Hence, when the Apostle became divested of all feelings of delight (mashárib) in complete bewilderment, he used to say: “O Bilál, comfort us by the call to prayer.” The Ṣúfí Shaykhs have discussed this matter and each of them occupies a position of his own. Some hold that prayer is a means of obtaining “presence” with God (ḥudúr), and others regard it as a means of obtaining “absence” (ghaybat); some who have been “absent” become “present” in prayer, while others who have been “present” become “absent”. Similarly, in the next world where God is seen, some, who are “absent”, when they see God shall become “present”, and vice versâ. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, assert that prayer is a Divine command and is not a means of obtaining either “presence” or “absence”, because a Divine command is not a means to anything. The cause of “presence” is “presence” itself, and the cause of “absence” is “absence” itself. If prayer were the cause or means of “presence”, it could be performed only by one who was “present”, and if it were the cause of “absence”, one who was “absent” would necessarily become “present” by neglecting to perform it. But inasmuch as it must be performed by all, whether they be “present” or “absent”, prayer is sovereign in its essence and independent.
Prayer is mostly performed and prescribed by those who are engaged in self-mortification or who have attained to steadfastness (istiqámat). Thus the Shaykhs order their disciples to perform four hundred bowings in prayer during a day and night, that their bodies may be habituated to devotion; and the steadfast likewise perform many prayers in thanksgiving for the favour which God has bestowed upon them. As regards those who possess “states” (arbáb-i aḥwál), their prayers, in the perfection of ecstasy, correspond to the “station” of union, so that through their prayers they become united; or again, when ecstasy is withdrawn, their prayers correspond to the “station” of separation, so that thereby they become separated. The former, who are united in their prayers, pray by day and night and add supererogatory prayers to those which are incumbent on them, but the latter, who are separated, perform no more prayers than they need. The Apostle said: “In prayer lies my delight,” because prayer is a source of joy to the steadfast. When the Apostle was brought nigh unto God on the night of the Ascension, and his soul was loosed from the fetters of phenomenal being, and his spirit lost consciousness of all degrees and stations, and his natural powers were annihilated, he said, not of his own will, but inspired by longing: “O God, do not transport me to yonder world of affliction! Do not throw me under the sway of nature and passion!” God answered: “It is My decree that thou shalt return to the world for the sake of establishing the religious law, in order that I may give thee there what I have given thee here.” When he returned to this world, he used to say as often as he felt a longing for that exalted station: “O Bilál, comfort us by the call to prayer!” Thus to him every time of prayer was an Ascension and a new nearness to God. Sahl b. `Abdalláh says: “It is a sign of a man’s sincerity that he has an attendant angel who urges him to pray when the hour of prayer is come, and wakes him if he be asleep.” This mark (of sincerity) was apparent in Sahl himself, for although he had become palsied in his old age he used to recover the use of his limbs whenever the hour of prayer arrived; and after having performed his prayers he was unable to move from his place. One of the Shaykhs says: “Four things are necessary to him who prays: annihilation of the lower soul (nafs), loss of the natural powers, purity of the inmost heart, and perfect contemplation.” Annihilation of the lower soul is to be attained only by concentration of thought; loss of the natural powers only by affirmation of the Divine majesty, which involves the destruction of all that is other than God; purity of the inmost heart only by love; and perfect contemplation only by purity of the inmost heart. It is related that Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj) used to lay upon himself the obligation of performing four hundred bowings of prayer in a day and a night. On being asked why he took so much trouble in the high degree which he enjoyed, he answered: “Pain and pleasure indicate your feelings, but those whose attributes are annihilated feel no effect either of pleasure or of pain. Beware lest you call remissness maturity and desire of the world search for God.” A certain man relates: “I was praying behind Dhu ´l-Nún. When he began to pronounce the takbír, he cried ‘Allah akbar’ and fell in a swoon like a lifeless body.” Junayd, after he had grown old, did not omit any item of the litanies (awrád) of his youth. When he was urged to refrain from some of these supererogatory acts of devotion to which his strength was unequal, he replied that he could not abandon at the last those exercises which had been the means of his acquiring spiritual welfare at the first. It is well known that the angels are ceaselessly engaged in worship, because they are spiritual and have no lower soul (nafs). The lower soul deters men from obedience, and the more it is subdued the more easy does the performance of worship become; and when it is entirely annihilated, worship becomes the food and drink of Man, even as it is the food and drink of the angels. `Abdalláh b. Mubárak says: “In my boyhood I remember seeing a female ascetic who was bitten by a scorpion in forty places while she was praying, but no change of expression was visible in her countenance. When she had finished, I said: ‘O mother, why didst not thou fling the scorpion away from thee?’ She answered: ‘Ignorant boy! dost thou deem it right that while I am engaged in God’s business I should attend to my own?’”
Abu ´l-Khayr Aqṭa`[[153]] had a gangrene in his foot. The physicians declared that his foot must be amputated, but he would not allow this to be done. His disciples said: “Cut it off while he is praying, for at that time he is unconscious.” The physicians acted on this advice. When Abu ´l-Khayr finished his prayers he found that his foot had been amputated.[[154]]
Some Ṣúfís perform obligatory acts of devotion openly, but conceal those which are supererogatory in order that they may escape from ostentation (riyá). Anyone (they say) who desires that others should take notice of his religious practices becomes a hypocrite; and if he says that although other people see his devotions he himself is unconscious of them, that too is hypocrisy. Other Ṣúfís, however, exhibit both their obligatory and supererogatory acts of devotion, on the ground that ostentation is unreal and piety real: therefore, it is absurd to hide reality for the sake of unreality. “Do not let any thought of ostentation (they say) enter your heart, and worship God wherever you will.” The Shaykhs have observed the true spirit of the rules of devotional practice, and have enjoined their disciples to do the same. One of them says: “I travelled for forty years, and during that time I did not miss a single public service of prayer, but was in some town every Friday.”
The corollaries of prayer belong to the stations of love, of which I will now set forth the principles in full.
Chapter concerning Love and matters connected therewith.
God hath said, “O believers, whosoever among you apostatize from their religion, God will assuredly bring in their stead a people whom He will love and who will love Him” (Kor. v, 59); and He hath also said, “Some men take idols beside God and love them as they love God, but the believers love God best” (Kor. ii, 160). And the Apostle said: “I heard Gabriel say that God said, ‘Whoever despises any of My friends has declared war against Me. I do not hesitate in anything as I hesitate to seize the soul of My faithful servant who dislikes death and whom I dislike to hurt, but he cannot escape therefrom; and no means whereby My servant seeks My favour is more pleasing to Me than the performance of the obligations which I have laid upon him; and My servant continuously seeks My favour by works of supererogation until I love him, and when I love him I am his hearing and his sight and his hand and his helper.’” And the Apostle also said, “God loves to meet those who love to meet Him, and dislikes to meet those who dislike to meet Him”; and again, “When God loves a man He says to Gabriel, ‘O Gabriel, I love such and such a one, so do thou love him’; then Gabriel loves him and says to the dwellers in Heaven, ‘God loves such and such a one,’ and they love him too; then he bestows on him favour in the earth, so that he is loved by the inhabitants of the earth; and as it happens with regard to love, so does it happen with regard to hate.”
Maḥabbat (love) is said to be derived from ḥibbat, which are seeds that fall to the earth in the desert. The name ḥubb (love) was given to such desert seeds (ḥibb), because love is the source of life just as seeds are the origin of plants. As, when the seeds are scattered in the desert, they become hidden in the earth, and rain falls upon them and the sun shines upon them and cold and heat pass over them, yet they are not corrupted by the changing seasons, but grow up and bear flowers and give fruit, so love, when it takes its dwelling in the heart, is not corrupted by presence or absence, by pleasure or pain, by separation or union. Others say that maḥabbat is derived from ḥubb, meaning “a jar full of stagnant water”, because when love is collected in the heart and fills it, there is no room there for any thought except of the beloved, as Shiblí says: “Love is called maḥabbat because it obliterates (tamḥú) from the heart everything except the beloved.” Others say that maḥabbat is derived from ḥubb, meaning “the four conjoined pieces of wood on which a water-jug is placed, because a lover lightly bears whatever his beloved metes out to him—honour or disgrace, pain or pleasure, fair treatment or foul”. According to others, maḥabbat is derived from ḥabb, the plural of ḥabbat, and ḥabbat is the core of the heart, where love resides. In this case, maḥabbat is called by the name of its dwelling-place, a principle of which there are numerous examples in Arabic. Others derive it from ḥabáb, “bubbles of water and the effervescence thereof in a heavy rainfall,” because love is the effervescence of the heart in longing for union with the beloved. As the body subsists through the spirit, so the heart subsists through love, and love subsists through vision of, and union with, the beloved. Others, again, declare that ḥubb is a name applied to pure love, because the Arabs call the pure white of the human eye ḥabbat al-insán, just as they call the pure black (core) of the heart ḥabbat al-qalb: the latter is the seat of love, the former of vision. Hence the heart and the eye are rivals in love, as the poet says:
“My heart envies mine eye the pleasure of seeing,
And mine eye envies my heart the pleasure of meditating.”
Section.
You must know that the term “love” (maḥabbat) is used by theologians in three significations. Firstly, as meaning restless desire for the object of love, and inclination and passion, in which sense it refers only to created beings and their mutual affection towards one another, but cannot be applied to God, who is exalted far above anything of this sort. Secondly, as meaning God’s beneficence and His conferment of special privileges on those whom He chooses and causes to attain the perfection of saintship and peculiarly distinguishes by diverse kinds of His miraculous grace. Thirdly, as meaning praise which God bestows on a man for a good action (thaná-yi jamíl).[[155]]
Some scholastic philosophers say that God’s love, which He has made known to us, belongs to those traditional attributes, like His face and His hand and His settling Himself firmly on His throne (istiwá), of which the existence from the standpoint of reason would appear to be impossible if they had not been proclaimed as Divine attributes in the Koran and the Sunna. Therefore we affirm them and believe in them, but suspend our own judgment concerning them. These scholastics mean to deny that the term “love” can be applied to God in all the senses which I have mentioned. I will now explain to you the truth of this matter.
God’s love of Man is His good will towards him and His having mercy on him. Love is one of the names of His will (irádat), like “satisfaction”, “anger”, “mercy”, etc., and His will is an eternal attribute whereby He wills His actions. In short, God’s love towards Man consists in showing much favour to him, and giving him a recompense in this world and the next, and making him secure from punishment and keeping him safe from sin, and bestowing on him lofty “states” and exalted “stations” and causing him to turn his thoughts away from all that is other than God. When God peculiarly distinguishes anyone in this way, that specialization of His will is called love. This is the doctrine of Ḥárith Muḥásibí and Junayd and a large number of the Ṣúfí Shaykhs as well as of the lawyers belonging to both the sects; and most of the Sunní scholastics hold the same opinion. As regards their assertion that Divine love is “praise given to a man for a good action” (thaná-yi jamíl bar banda), God’s praise is His word (kalám), which is uncreated; and as regards their assertion that Divine love means “beneficence”, His beneficence consists in His actions. Hence the different views are substantially in close relation to each other.
Man’s love towards God is a quality which manifests itself in the heart of the pious believer, in the form of veneration and magnification, so that he seeks to satisfy his Beloved and becomes impatient and restless in his desire for vision of Him, and cannot rest with anyone except Him, and grows familiar with the remembrance (dhikr) of Him, and abjures the remembrance of everything besides. Repose becomes unlawful to him and rest flees from him. He is cut off from all habits and associations, and renounces sensual passion and turns towards the court of love and submits to the law of love and knows God by His attributes of perfection. It is impossible that Man’s love of God should be similar in kind to the love of His creatures towards one another, for the former is desire to comprehend and attain the beloved object, while the latter is a property of bodies. The lovers of God are those who devote themselves to death in nearness to Him, not those who seek His nature (kayfiyyat), because the seeker stands by himself, but he who devotes himself to death (mustahlik) stands by his Beloved; and the truest lovers are they who would fain die thus, and are overpowered, because a phenomenal being has no means of approaching the Eternal save through the omnipotence of the Eternal. He who knows what is real love feels no more difficulties, and all his doubts depart. Love, then, is of two kinds—(1) the love of like towards like, which is a desire instigated by the lower soul and which seeks the essence (dhát) of the beloved object by means of sexual intercourse; (2) the love of one who is unlike the object of his love and who seeks to become intimately attached to an attribute of that object, e.g. hearing without speech or seeing without eye. And believers who love God are of two kinds—(1) those who regard the favour and beneficence of God towards them, and are led by that regard to love the Benefactor; (2) those who are so enraptured by love that they reckon all favours as a veil (between themselves and God) and by regarding the Benefactor are led to (consciousness of) His favours. The latter way is the more exalted of the two.
Section.
Among the Ṣúfí Shaykhs Sumnún al-Muḥibb holds a peculiar doctrine concerning love. He asserts that love is the foundation and principle of the way to God, that all “states” and “stations” are stages of love, and that every stage and abode in which the seeker may be admits of destruction, except the abode of love, which is not destructible in any circumstances so long as the way itself remains in existence. All the other Shaykhs agree with him in this matter, but since the term “love” is current and well known, and they wished the doctrine of Divine love to remain hidden, instead of calling it “love” they gave it the name of “purity” (ṣafwat), and the lover they called “Ṣúfí”; or they used the word “poverty” (faqr) to denote the renunciation of the lover’s personal will in his affirmation of the Beloved’s will, and they called the lover “poor” (faqír). I have explained the theory of “purity” and “poverty” in the beginning of this book.
`Amr b. `Uthmán Makkí says in the Kitáb-i Maḥabbat[[156]] that God created the souls (dilhá) seven thousand years before the bodies and kept them in the station of proximity (qurb), and that he created the spirits (jánhá) seven thousand years before the souls and kept them in the degree of intimacy (uns), and that he created the hearts (sirrhá) seven thousand years before the spirits and kept them in the degree of union (waṣl), and revealed the epiphany of His beauty to the heart three hundred and sixty times every day and bestowed on it three hundred and sixty looks of grace, and He caused the spirits to hear the word of love and manifested three hundred and sixty exquisite favours of intimacy to the soul, so that they all surveyed the phenomenal universe and saw nothing more precious than themselves and were filled with vanity and pride. Therefore God subjected them to probation: He imprisoned the heart in the spirit and the spirit in the soul and the soul in the body; then He mingled reason (`aql) with them, and sent prophets and gave commands; then each of them began to seek its original station. God ordered them to pray. The body betook itself to prayer, the soul attained to love, the spirit arrived at proximity to God, and the heart found rest in union with Him. The explanation of love is not love, because love is a feeling (ḥál), and feelings are never mere words (qál). If the whole world wished to attract love, they could not; and if they made the utmost efforts to repel it, they could not. Love is a Divine gift, not anything that can be acquired.
Section.
Concerning excessive love (`ishq) there is much controversy among the Shaykhs. Some Ṣúfís hold that excessive love towards God is allowable, but that it does not proceed from God. Such love, they say, is the attribute of one who is debarred from his beloved, and Man is debarred from God, but God is not debarred from Man: therefore Man may love God excessively, but the term is not applicable to God. Others, again, take the view that God cannot be the object of Man’s excessive love, because such love involves a passing beyond limits, whereas God is not limited. The moderns assert that excessive love, in this world and the next, is properly applied only to the desire of attaining the essence, and inasmuch as the essence of God is not attainable, the term (`ishq) is not rightly used in reference to Man’s love towards God, although the terms “love” (maḥabbat) and “pure love” (ṣafwat) are correct. They say, moreover, that while love (maḥabbat) may be produced by hearing, excessive love (`ishq) cannot possibly arise without actual vision: therefore it cannot be felt towards God, who is not seen in this world. The essence of God is not attainable or perceptible, that Man should be able to feel excessive love towards Him; but Man feels love (maḥabbat) towards God, because God, through His attributes and actions, is a gracious benefactor to His friends. Since Jacob was absorbed in love (maḥabbat) for Joseph, from whom he was separated, his eyes became bright and clear as soon as he smelt Joseph’s shirt; but since Zulaykhá was ready to die on account of her excessive love (`ishq) for Joseph, her eyes were not opened until she was united with him. It has also been said that excessive love is applicable to God, on the ground that neither God nor excessive love has any opposite.
Section.
I will now mention a few of the innumerable indications which the Ṣúfí Shaykhs have given as to the true nature of love. Master Abu ´l-Qásim Qushayrí says: “Love is the effacement of the lover’s attributes and the establishment of the Beloved’s essence,” i.e. since the Beloved is subsistent (báqí) and the lover is annihilated (fání) the jealousy of love requires that the lover should make the subsistence of the Beloved absolute by negating himself, and he cannot negate his own attributes except by affirming the essence of the Beloved. No lover can stand by his own attributes, for in that case he would not need the Beloved’s beauty; but when he knows that his life depends on the Beloved’s beauty, he necessarily seeks to annihilate his own attributes, which veil him from his Beloved; and thus in love for his Friend he becomes an enemy to himself. It is well known that the last words of Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj) on the scaffold were Ḥasb al-wájid ifrád al-wáḥid, “It is enough for the lover that he should make the One single,” i.e. that his existence should be cleared away from the path of love and that the dominion of his lower soul should be utterly destroyed. Abú Yazíd Bisṭámí says: “Love consists in regarding your own much as little and your Beloved’s little as much.” This is how God Himself deals with His servants, for He calls “little” that which He has given to them in this world (Kor. iv, 79), but calls their praise of Him “much”—“the men and women who praise God much” (Kor. xxxiii, 35)—in order that all His creatures may know that He is the real Beloved, because nothing is little that God bestows on Man, and all is little that Man offers to God. Sahl b. `Abdalláh al-Tustarí says: “Love consists in embracing acts of obedience (mu`ánaqat al-ṭá`át) and in avoiding acts of disobedience,” because a man performs the command of his beloved more easily in proportion to the strength of love in his heart. This is a refutation of those heretics who declare that a man may attain to such a degree of love that obedience is no longer required of him, a doctrine which is sheer heresy. It is impossible that any person, while his understanding is sound, should be relieved of his religious obligations, because the law of Muḥammad will never be abrogated, and if one such person may be thus relieved why not all? The case of persons overcome with rapture (maghlúb) and idiots (ma`túh) is different. It is possible, however, that God in His love should bring a man to such a degree that it costs him no trouble to perform his religious duties, because the more one loves Him who gives the command the less trouble will he have in executing it. When the Apostle abandoned himself entirely to devotion both by day and night, so that his blessed feet became swollen, God said: “We have not sent down the Koran to thee in order that thou shouldst be miserable” (Kor. xx, 1). And it is also possible that one should be relieved of the consciousness of performing the Divine command, as the Apostle said: “Verily, a veil is drawn over my heart, and I ask forgiveness of God seventy times daily,” i.e. he asked to be forgiven for his actions, because he was not regarding himself and his actions, that he should be pleased with his obedience, but was paying regard to the majesty of God’s command and was thinking that his actions were not worthy of God’s acceptance. Sumnún Muḥibb says: “The lovers of God have borne away the glory of this world and the next, for the Prophet said, ‘A man is with the object of his love.’” Therefore they are with God in both worlds, and those who are with God can do no wrong. The glory of this world is God’s being with them, and the glory of the next world is their being with God. Yaḥyá b. Mu`ádh al-Rází says: “Real love is neither diminished by unkindness nor increased by kindness and bounty,” because in love both kindness and unkindness are causes, and the cause of a thing is reduced to nothing when the thing itself actually exists. A lover delights in the affliction that his beloved makes him suffer, and having love he regards kindness and unkindness with the same indifference. The story is well known how Shiblí was supposed to be insane and was confined in a madhouse. Some persons came to visit him. “Who are you?” he asked. They answered: “Thy friends,” whereupon he pelted them with stones and put them to flight. Then he said: “Had you been my friends, you would not have fled from my affliction.”
[152]. Here the author cites a description given by Ḥátim al-Aṣamm of his manner of praying.
[153]. Nafaḥát, No. 259.
[154]. Here follows a story, already related in the notice of Abú Bakr (p. 70), concerning the different manner in which Abú Bakr and `Umar recited the Koran when they performed their prayers.
[155]. Cf. Qushayrí (Cairo, 1318 A.H.), 170, 14 sqq.
[156]. “The Book of Love.”
CHAPTER XX.
The Uncovering of the Sixth Veil: Concerning Alms (al-zakát).
Alms is one of the obligatory ordinances of the faith. It becomes due on the completion of a benefit; e.g., two hundred dirhems constitute a complete benefit (ni`matí tamám), and anyone who is in possession of that sum ought to pay five dirhems; or if he possesses twenty dínárs he ought to pay half a dínár; or if he possesses five camels he ought to pay one sheep, and so forth. Alms is also due on account of dignity (jáh), because that too is a complete benefit. The Apostle said: “Verily, God has made it incumbent upon you to pay the alms of your dignity, even as He has made it incumbent upon you to pay the alms of your property”; and he said also: “Everything has its alms, and the alms of a house is the guest-room.”
Alms is really thanksgiving for a benefit received, the thanks being similar in kind to the benefit. Thus health is a great blessing, for which every limb owes alms. Therefore healthy persons ought to occupy all their limbs with devotion and not yield them to pleasure and pastime, in order that the alms due for the blessing of health may be fully paid. Moreover, there is an alms for every spiritual blessing, namely, outward and inward acknowledgment of that blessing in proportion to its worth. Thus, when a man knows that the blessings bestowed upon him by God are infinite, he should render infinite thanks by way of alms. The Ṣúfís do not consider it praiseworthy to give alms on account of worldly blessings, because they disapprove of avarice, and a man must needs be extremely avaricious to keep two hundred dirhems in his possession for a whole year and then give away five dirhems in alms. Since it is the custom of the generous to lavish their wealth, and since they are disposed to be liberal, how should almsgiving be incumbent upon them?
I have read in the Anecdotes that a certain formal theologian, wishing to make trial of Shiblí, asked him what sum ought to be given in alms. Shiblí replied: “Where avarice is present and property exists, five dirhems out of every two hundred dirhems, and half a dínár out of every twenty dínárs. That is according to thy doctrine; but according to mine, a man ought not to possess anything, in which case he will be saved from the trouble of giving alms.” The divine asked: “Whose authority do you follow in this matter?” Shiblí said: “The authority of Abú Bakr the Veracious, who gave away all that he possessed, and on being asked by the Apostle what he had left behind for his family, answered, ‘God and His Apostle.’” And it is related that `Alí said in an ode—
“Almsgiving is not incumbent on me,
For how can a generous man be required to give alms?”
But it is absurd for anyone to cultivate ignorance and to say that because he has no property he need not be acquainted with the theory of almsgiving. To learn and obtain knowledge is an essential obligation, and to profess one’s self independent of knowledge is mere infidelity. It is one of the evils of the present age that many who pretend to be pious dervishes reject knowledge in favour of ignorance. The author says: “Once I was giving devotional instruction to some novices in Ṣúfiism and was discussing the chapter on the poor-rate of camels (ṣadaqat al-ibil) and explaining the rules in regard to she-camels that have entered on their third or second or fourth year (bint-i labún ú bint-i makháḍ ú ḥiqqa). An ignorant fellow, tired of listening to my discourse, rose and said: ‘I have no camels: what use is this knowledge to me?’ I answered: ‘Knowledge is necessary in taking alms no less than in giving alms: if anyone should give you a she-camel in her third year and you should accept her, you ought to be informed on this point; and even though one has no property and does not want to have any property, he is not thereby relieved from the obligation of knowledge.’”
Section.
Some of the Ṣúfí Shaykhs have accepted alms, while others have declined to do so. Those whose poverty is voluntary (ba-ikhtiyár) belong to the latter class. “We do not amass property,” they say, “therefore we need not give alms; nor will we accept alms from worldlings, lest they should have the upper hand (yad-i `ulyá) and we the lower (yad-i suflá).“ But those who in their poverty are under Divine compulsion (muḍtarr) accept alms, not for their own wants but with the purpose of relieving a brother Moslem of his obligation. In this case the receiver of alms, not the giver, has the upper hand; otherwise, the words of God, ”And He accepteth the alms” (Kor. ix, 105), are meaningless, and the giver of alms must be superior to the receiver, a belief which is utterly false. No; the upper hand belongs to him who takes something from a brother Moslem in order that the latter may escape from a heavy responsibility. Dervishes are not of this world (dunyá´í), but of the next world (`uqbá´í), and if a dervish fails to relieve a worldling of his responsibility, the worldling will be held accountable and punished at the Resurrection for having neglected to fulfil his obligation. Therefore God afflicts the dervish with a slight want in order that worldlings may be able to perform what is incumbent upon them. The upper hand is necessarily the hand of the dervish who receives alms in accordance with the requirement of the law, because it behoves him to take that which is due to God. If the hand of the recipient were the lower hand, as some anthropomorphists (ahl-i ḥashw) declare, then the hands of the Apostles, who often received alms due to God and delivered it to the proper authority, must have been lower (than the hands of those who gave the alms to them). This view is erroneous; its adherents do not see that the Apostles received alms in consequence of the Divine command. The religious Imáms have acted in the same manner as the Apostles, for they have always received payments due to the public treasury. Those are in the wrong who assert that the hand of the receiver is the lower and that of the giver is the higher.
Chapter on Liberality and Generosity.
In the opinion of theologians liberality (júd) and generosity (sakhá), when regarded as human attributes, are synonymous; but God, although He is called liberal (jawád), is not called generous (sakhí), because He has not called Himself by the latter name, nor is He so called in any Apostolic Tradition. All orthodox Moslems are agreed that it is not allowable to apply to God any name that is not proclaimed in the Koran and the Sunna: thus He may be called knowing (`álim), but not intelligent (`áqil) or wise (faqíh), although the three terms bear the same signification. Hence God is called liberal, since that name is accompanied by His blessing; and He is not called generous, since that name lacks His blessing. Men have made a distinction between liberality (júd) and generosity (sakhá), and have said that the generous man discriminates in his liberality, and that his actions are connected with a selfish motive (gharaḍ) and a cause (sabab). This is a rudimentary stage in liberality, for the liberal man does not discriminate, and his actions are devoid of self-interest and without any secondary cause. These two qualities were exhibited by two Apostles, viz., Abraham, the Friend of God (Khalíl), and Muḥammad, the Beloved of God (Ḥabíb). It is related in the genuine Traditions that Abraham was accustomed not to eat anything until a guest came to him. Once, after three days had passed without the arrival of a guest, a fire—worshipper appeared at the door, but Abraham, on hearing who he was, refused to give him entertainment. God reproached him on this account, saying: “Wilt not thou give a piece of bread to one whom I have nourished for seventy years?” But Muḥammad, when the son of Ḥátim visited him, spread his own mantle on the ground for him and said: “Honour the noble chieftain of a people when he comes to you.” Abraham’s position was generosity, but our Apostle’s was liberality.
The best rule in this matter is set forth in the maxim that liberality consists in following one’s first thought, and that it is a sign of avarice when the second thought prevails over the first; for the first thought is unquestionably from God. I have read that at Níshápúr there was a merchant who used regularly to attend the meetings held by Shaykh Abú Sa`íd. One day a dervish who was present begged the Shaykh to give him something. The merchant had a dínár and a small piece of clipped money (quráḍa). His first thought was: “I will give the dínár,” but on second thoughts he gave the clipped piece. When the Shaykh finished his discourse the merchant asked: “Is it right for anyone to contend with God?” The Shaykh answered: “You contended with Him: He bade you give the dínár, but you gave the clipping.” I have also read that Shaykh Abú `Abdalláh Rúdbárí came to the house of a disciple in his absence, and ordered that all the effects in the house should be taken to the bazaar. When the disciple returned he was delighted that the Shaykh had behaved with such freedom, but he said nothing. His wife, however, tore off her dress and flung it down, saying: “This belongs to the effects of the house.” The husband exclaimed: “You are doing more than is necessary and showing self-will.” “O husband,” said she, “what the Shaykh did was the result of his liberality: we too must exert ourselves (takalluf kuním) to display liberality.” “Yes,” replied the husband, “but if we allow the Shaykh to be liberal, that is real liberality in us, whereas liberality, regarded as a human quality, is forced and unreal.” A disciple ought always to sacrifice his property and himself in obedience to the command of God. Hence Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) said: “The Ṣúfí’s blood may be shed with impunity, and his property may be seized.” I have heard the following story of Shaykh Abú Muslim Fárisí: “Once (he said) I set out with a number of people for the Ḥijáz. In the neighbourhood of Ḥulwán we were attacked by Kurds, who stripped us of our patched frocks. We offered no resistance. One man, however, became greatly excited, whereupon a Kurd drew his scimitar and killed him, notwithstanding our entreaties that his life might be spared. On our asking why he had killed him he answered: ‘Because he is no Ṣúfí and acts disloyally in the company of saints: such a one is better dead.’ We said: ‘How so?’ He replied: ‘The first step in Ṣúfiism is liberality. This fellow, who was so desperately attached to these rags that he quarrelled with his own friends, how should he be a Ṣúfí? His own friends, I say, for it is a long time since we have been doing as you do, and plundering you and stripping you of worldly encumbrances.’”[[157]] A man came to the house of Ḥasan b. `Alí and said that he owed four hundred dirhems. Ḥasan gave him four hundred dínárs and went into the house, weeping. They asked him why he wept. He answered: “I have been remiss in making inquiry into the circumstances of this man, and have reduced him to the humiliation of begging.” Abú Sahl Ṣu`lúkí never put alms into the hand of a dervish, and always used to lay on the ground anything that he gave. “Worldly goods,” he said, “are too worthless to be placed in the hand of a Moslem, so that my hand should be the upper and his the lower.”[[158]] I once met a dervish to whom a Sultan had sent three hundred drachms of pure gold. He went to a bath-house, and gave the whole sum to the superintendent and immediately departed. I have already discussed the subject of liberality in the chapter on preference (íthár), where I have dealt with the doctrine of the Núrís.
[157]. Here follows a story of `Abdalláh b. Ja`far and an Abyssinian slave, who let a dog eat the whole of his daily portion of food.
[158]. Here the author relates three short anecdotes illustrating the liberality of Muḥammad.
CHAPTER XXI.
The Uncovering of the Seventh Veil: On Fasting (al-ṣawm).
God hath said: “O believers, fasting is prescribed unto you” (Kor. ii, 179). And the Apostle said that he was informed by Gabriel that God said: “Fasting is mine, and I have the best right to give recompense for it” (al-ṣawm lí wa-ana ajzá bihi),[[159]] because the religious practice of fasting is a mystery unconnected with any external thing, a mystery in which none other than God participates: hence its recompense is infinite. It has been said that mankind enter Paradise through God’s mercy, and that their rank therein depends on their religious devotion, and that their abiding therein for ever is the recompense of their fasting, because God said: “I have the best right to give recompense for it.” Junayd said: “Fasting is half of the Way.” I have seen Shaykhs who fasted without intermission, and others who fasted only during the month of Ramaḍán: the former were seeking recompense, and the latter were renouncing self-will and ostentation. Again, I have seen others who fasted and were not conscious of anyone and ate only when food was set before them. This is more in accordance with the Sunna. It is related that the Apostle came to `Á´isha and Ḥafṣa, who said to him: “We have kept some dates and butter (ḥays) for thee.” “Bring it,” said he; “I was intending to fast, but I will fast another day instead.” I have seen others who fasted on the “white days” (from the 13th to the 15th of every month), and on the ten (last nights) of the blessed month (Ramaḍán), and also during Rajab, Sha`bán, and Ramaḍán. Others I have seen who observed the fast of David, which the Apostle called the best of fasts, i.e. they fasted one day and broke their fast the next day. Once I came into the presence of Shaykh Aḥmad Bukhárí. He had a dish of sweetmeat (ḥalwá) before him, from which he was eating, and he made a sign to me that I should do the same. As is the way of young men, I answered (without consideration) that I was fasting. He asked why. I said: “In conformity with such and such a one.” He said: “It is not right for human beings to conform with human beings.” I was about to break my fast, but he said: “Since you wish to be quit of conformity with him, do not conform with me, for I too am a human being.” Fasting is really abstinence, and this includes the whole method of Ṣúfiism (ṭaríqat). The least degree in fasting is hunger, which is God’s food on earth, and is universally commended in the eye of the law and of reason. One month’s continual fasting is incumbent on every reasonable Moslem who has attained to manhood. The fast begins on the appearance of the moon of Ramaḍán, and continues until the appearance of the moon of Shawwál, and for every day a sincere intention and firm obligation are necessary. Abstinence involves many obligations, e.g., keeping the belly without food and drink, and guarding the eye from lustful looks, and the ear from listening to evil speech about anyone in his absence, and the tongue from vain or foul words, and the body from following after worldly things and disobedience to God. One who acts in this manner is truly keeping his fast, for the Apostle said to a certain man, “When you fast, let your ear fast and your eye and your tongue and your hand and every limb;” and he also said, “Many a one has no good of his fasting except hunger and thirst.”
I dreamed that I saw the Apostle and asked him to give me a word of counsel, and that he replied: “Imprison thy tongue and thy senses.” To imprison the senses is complete self-mortification, because all kinds of knowledge are acquired through the five senses: sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. Four of the senses have a particular locus, but the fifth, namely touch, is spread over the whole body. Everything that becomes known to human beings passes through these five doors, except intuitive knowledge and Divine inspiration, and in each sense there is a purity and an impurity; for, just as they are open to knowledge, reason, and spirit, so they are open to imagination and passion, being organs which partake of piety and sin and of felicity and misery. Therefore it behoves him who is keeping a fast to imprison all the senses in order that they may return from disobedience to obedience. To abstain only from food and drink is child’s play. One must abstain from idle pleasures and unlawful acts, not from eating lawful food. I marvel at those who say that they are keeping a voluntary fast and yet fail to perform an obligatory duty. Not to commit sin is obligatory, whereas continual fasting is an apostolic custom (which may be observed or neglected). When a man is divinely protected from sin all his circumstances are a fast. It is related by Abú Ṭalḥa al-Málikí that Sahl b. `Abdalláh of Tustar was fasting on the day of his birth and also on the day of his death, because he was born in the forenoon and tasted no milk until the evening prayer, and on the day of his decease he was keeping a fast. But continual fasting (rúza-i wiṣál) has been forbidden by the Apostle, for when he fasted continually, and his Companions conformed with him in that respect, he forbade them, saying: “I am not as one of you: I pass the night with my Lord, who gives me food and drink.” The votaries of self-mortification assert that this prohibition was an act of indulgence, not a veto declaring such fasts to be unlawful, and others regard them as being contrary to the Sunna, but the fact is that continuance (wiṣál) is impossible, because the day’s fast is interrupted by night or, at any rate, does not continue beyond a certain period. It is related that Sahl b. `Abdalláh of Tustar used to eat only once in fifteen days, and when the month of Ramaḍán arrived he ate nothing until the Feast, and performed four hundred bowings in prayer every night. This exceeds the limit of human endurance, and cannot be accomplished by anyone without Divine aid, which itself becomes his nourishment. It is well known that Shaykh Abú Naṣr Sarráj,[[160]] the author of the Luma`,[[161]] who was surnamed the Peacock of the Poor (Ṭá´ús al-fuqará), came to Baghdád in the month of Ramaḍán, and was given a private chamber in the Shúníziyya mosque, and was appointed to preside over the dervishes until the Feast. During the nightly prayers of Ramaḍán (taráwíḥ) he recited the whole Koran five times. Every night a servant brought a loaf of bread to his room. When he departed, on the day of the Feast, the servant found all the thirty loaves untouched. `Alí b. Bakkár relates that Ḥafṣ Miṣṣísí ate nothing in Ramaḍán except on the fifteenth day of that month. We are told that Ibráhím Adham fasted from the beginning to the end of Ramaḍán, and, although it was the month of Tammúz (July), worked every day as a harvester and gave his wages to the dervishes, and prayed from nightfall to daybreak; they watched him closely and saw that he neither ate nor slept. It is said that Shaykh Abú `Abdalláh Khafíf during his life kept forty uninterrupted fasts of forty days, and I have met with an old man who used annually to keep two fasts of forty days in the desert. I was present at the death-bed of Dánishmand Abú Muḥammad Bángharí; he had tasted no food for eighty days and had not missed a single occasion of public worship. At Merv there were two spiritual directors; one was called Mas`úd and the other was Shaykh Abú `Alí Siyáh. Mas`úd sent a message to Abú `Alí, saying: “How long shall we make empty pretensions? Come, let us sit fasting for forty days.” Abú `Alí replied: “No; let us eat three times a day and nevertheless require only one purification during these forty days.” The difficulties of this question are not yet removed. Ignorant persons conclude that continuance in fasting is possible, while physicians allege that such a theory is entirely baseless. I will now explain the matter in full. To fast continuously, without infringing the Divine command, is a miracle (karámat). Miracles have a special, not a general, application: if they were vouchsafed to all, faith would be an act of necessity (jabr) and gnostics would not be recompensed on account of gnosis. The Apostle wrought evidentiary miracles (mu`jizát) and therefore divulged his continuance in fasting; but he forbade the saints (ahl-i karámat) to divulge it, because a karámat involves concealment, whereas a mu`jizat involves revelation. This is a clear distinction between the miracles performed by Apostles and those performed by saints, and will be sufficient for anyone who is divinely guided. The forty days’ fasts (chilla) of the saints are derived from the fast of Moses (Kor. vii, 138). When the saints desire to hear the word of God spiritually, they remain fasting for forty days. After thirty days have passed they rub their teeth; then they fast ten days more, and God speaks to their hearts, because whatever the prophets enjoy openly the saints may enjoy secretly. Now, hearing the word of God is not compatible with the subsistence of the natural temperament: therefore the four humours must be deprived of food and drink for forty days in order that they may be utterly subdued, and that the purity of love and the subtlety of the spirit may hold absolute sway.
Chapter on Hunger and matters connected with it.
Hunger sharpens the intelligence and improves the mind and health. The Apostle said: “Make your bellies hungry and your livers thirsty and your bodies naked, that perchance your hearts may see God in this world.” Although hunger is an affliction to the body, it illumines the heart and purifies the soul, and leads the spirit into the presence of God. To eat one’s fill is an act worthy of a beast. One who cultivates his spiritual nature by means of hunger, in order to devote himself entirely to God and detach himself from worldly ties, is not on the same level with one who cultivates his body by means of gluttony, and serves his lusts. “The men of old ate to live, but ye live to eat.” For the sake of a morsel of food Adam fell from Paradise, and was banished far from the neighbourhood of God.
He whose hunger is compulsory is not really hungry, because one who desires to eat after God has decreed the contrary is virtually eating; the merit of hunger belongs to him who abstains from eating, not to him who is debarred from eating. Kattání[[162]] says: “The novice shall sleep only when he is overpowered by slumber, and speak only when he must, and eat only when he is starving.” According to some, starvation (fáqa) involves abstention from food for two days and nights; others say three days and nights, or a week, or forty days, because true mystics believe that a sincere man (ṣádiq) is only once hungry in forty days; his hunger merely serves to keep him alive, and all hunger besides is natural appetite and vanity. You must know that all the veins in the bodies of gnostics are evidences of the Divine mysteries, and that their hearts are tenanted by visions of the Most High. Their hearts are doors opened in their breasts, and at these doors are stationed reason and passion: reason is reinforced by the spirit, and passion by the lower soul. The more the natural humours are nourished by food, the stronger does the lower soul become, and the more impetuously is passion diffused through the members of the body; and in every vein a different kind of veil (ḥijábí) is produced. But when food is withheld from the lower soul it grows weak, and the reason gains strength, and the mysteries and evidences of God become more visible, until, when the lower soul is unable to work and passion is annihilated, every vain desire is effaced in the manifestation of the Truth, and the seeker of God attains to the whole of his desire. It is related that Abu ´l-`Abbás Qaṣṣáb said: “My obedience and disobedience depend on two cakes of bread: when I eat I find in myself the stuff of every sin, but when I abstain from eating I find in myself the foundation of every act of piety.” The fruit of hunger is contemplation of God (musháhadat), of which the forerunner is mortification (mujáhadat). Repletion combined with contemplation is better than hunger combined with mortification, because contemplation is the battle-field of men, whereas mortification is the playground of children.
[159]. The usual reading is ajzí, “I give recompense,” but the Persian translation, ba-jazá-yi án man awlátaram, is equivalent to ana ajzá bihi.
[160]. Nafaḥát, No. 353.
[161]. “Brilliancies.” Naf. entitles it لمعه.
[162]. Nafahát, No. 215.
CHAPTER XXII.
The Uncovering of the Eighth Veil: Concerning the Pilgrimage.
The pilgrimage (ḥajj) is binding on every Moslem of sound mind who is able to perform it and has reached manhood. It consists in putting on the pilgrim’s garb at the proper place, in standing on `Arafát, in circumambulating the Ka`ba, and in running between Ṣafá and Marwa. One must not enter the sacred territory without being clad as a pilgrim (bé iḥrám). The sacred territory (ḥaram) is so called because it contains the Station of Abraham (Maqám-i Ibráhím). Abraham had two stations: the station of his body, namely, Mecca, and the station of his soul, namely, friendship (khullat). Whoever seeks his bodily station must renounce all lusts and pleasures and put on the pilgrim’s garb and clothe himself in a winding-sheet (kafan) and refrain from hunting lawful game, and keep all his senses under strict control, and be present at `Arafát and go thence to Muzdalifa and Mash`ar al-Ḥarám, and pick up stones and circumambulate the Ka`ba and visit Miná and stay there three days and throw stones in the prescribed manner and cut his hair and perform the sacrifice and put on his (ordinary) clothes. But whoever seeks his spiritual station must renounce familiar associations and bid farewell to pleasures and take no thought of other than God (for his looking towards the phenomenal world is interdicted); then he must stand on the `Arafát of gnosis (ma`rifat) and from there set out for the Muzdalifa of amity (ulfat) and from there send his heart to circumambulate the temple of Divine purification (tanzíh), and throw away the stones of passion and corrupt thoughts in the Miná of faith, and sacrifice his lower soul on the altar of mortification and arrive at the station of friendship (khullat). To enter the bodily station is to be secure from enemies and their swords, but to enter the spiritual station is to be secure from separation (from God) and its consequences.[[163]]
Muḥammad b. al-Faḍl says: “I wonder at those who seek His temple in this world: why do not they seek contemplation of Him in their hearts? The temple they sometimes attain and sometimes miss, but contemplation they might enjoy always. If they are bound to visit a stone, which is looked at only once a year, surely they are more bound to visit the temple of the heart, where He may be seen three hundred and sixty times in a day and night. But the mystic’s every step is a symbol of the journey to Mecca, and when he reaches the sanctuary he wins a robe of honour for every step.” Abú Yazíd says: “If anyone’s recompense for worshipping God is deferred until to-morrow he has not worshipped God aright to-day,” for the recompense of every moment of worship and mortification is immediate. And Abú Yazíd also says: “On my first pilgrimage I saw only the temple; the second time, I saw both the temple and the Lord of the temple; and the third time I saw the Lord alone.” In short, where mortification is, there is no sanctuary: the sanctuary is where contemplation is. Unless the whole universe is a man’s trysting-place where he comes nigh unto God and a retired chamber where he enjoys intimacy with God, he is still a stranger to Divine love; but when he has vision the whole universe is his sanctuary.
“The darkest thing in the world is the Beloved’s house without the Beloved.”
Accordingly, what is truly valuable is not the Ka`ba, but contemplation and annihilation in the abode of friendship, of which things the sight of the Ka`ba is indirectly a cause. But we must recognize that every cause depends on the author of causes (musabbib), from whatever hidden place the providence of God may appear, and whencesoever the desire of the seeker may be fulfilled. The object of mystics (mardán) in traversing wildernesses and deserts is not the sanctuary itself, for to a lover of God it is unlawful to look upon His sanctuary. No; their object is mortification in a longing that leaves them no rest, and eager dissolution in a love that has no end. A certain man came to Junayd. Junayd asked him whence he came. He replied: “I have been on the pilgrimage.” Junayd said: “From the time when you first journeyed from your home have you also journeyed away from all sins?” He said: “No.” “Then,” said Junayd, “you have made no journey. At every stage where you halted for the night did you traverse a station on the way to God?” He said: “No.” “Then,” said Junayd, “you have not trodden the road stage by stage. When you put on the pilgrim’s garb at the proper place did you discard the attributes of humanity as you cast off your ordinary clothes?” “No.” “Then you have not put on the pilgrim’s garb. When you stood on `Arafát did you stand one instant in contemplation of God?” “No.” “Then you have not stood on `Arafát. When you went to Muzdalifa and achieved your desire did you renounce all sensual desires?” “No.” “Then you have not gone to Muzdalifa. When you circumambulated the Temple did you behold the immaterial beauty of God in the abode of purification?” “No.” “Then you have not circumambulated the Temple. When you ran between Ṣafá and Marwa did you attain to the rank of purity (ṣafá) and virtue (muruwwat)?” “No.” “Then you have not run. When you came to Miná did all your wishes (munyathá) cease?” “No.” “Then you have not yet visited Miná. When you reached the slaughter-place and offered sacrifice did you sacrifice the objects of sensual desire?” “No.” “Then you have not sacrificed. When you threw the stones did you throw away whatever sensual thoughts were accompanying you?” “No.” “Then you have not yet thrown the stones, and you have not yet performed the pilgrimage. Return and perform the pilgrimage in the manner which I have described in order that you may arrive at the station of Abraham.” Fuḍayl b. `Iyáḍ says: “I saw at Mount `Arafát a youth who stood silent with bowed head while all the people were praying aloud, and I asked him why he did not pray like them. He answered that he was in great distress, having lost the spiritual state (waqtí) which he formerly enjoyed, and that he could by no means cry aloud unto God. I said: ‘Pray, in order that through the blessings of this multitude God may accomplish thy desire.’ He was about to lift up his hands and pray, when suddenly he uttered a shriek and died on the spot.” Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian says: “At Miná I saw a young man sitting quietly while the people were engaged in the sacrifices. I looked at him to see what he was doing. He cried: ‘O God, all the people are offering sacrifice. I wish to sacrifice my lower soul to Thee; do Thou accept it.’ Having spoken, he pointed with his forefinger to his throat and fell dead—may God have mercy on him!”
Pilgrimages, then, are of two kinds: (1) in absence (from God) and (2) in presence (of God). Anyone who is absent from God at Mecca is in the same position as if he were absent from God in his own house, and anyone who is present with God in his own house is in the same position as if he were present with God at Mecca. Pilgrimage is an act of mortification (mujáhadat) for the sake of obtaining contemplation (musháhadat), and mortification does not become the direct cause of contemplation, but is only a means to it. Therefore, inasmuch as a means has no further effect on the reality of things, the true object of pilgrimage is not to visit the Ka`ba, but to obtain contemplation of God.
Chapter on Contemplation.
The Apostle said: “Make your bellies hungry and your livers thirsty and leave the world alone, that perchance ye may see God with your hearts”; and he also said, “Worship God as though thou sawest Him, for if thou dost not see Him, yet He sees thee.” God said to David: “Dost thou know what is knowledge of Me? It is the life of the heart in contemplation of Me.” By “contemplation” the Ṣúfís mean spiritual vision of God in public and private, without asking how or in what manner. Abu ´l-`Abbás b. `Aṭá says in reference to the words of God: “As to those who say, ‘Our Lord is God,’ and who become steadfast” (Kor. xli, 30), i.e. “they say ‘Our Lord is God’ in self-mortification and they ‘become steadfast’ on the carpet of contemplation”.
There are really two kinds of contemplation. The former is the result of perfect faith (ṣihhat-i yaqín), the latter of rapturous love, for in the rapture of love a man attains to such a degree that his whole being is absorbed in the thought of his Beloved and he sees nothing else. Muḥammad b. Wási` says: “I never saw anything without seeing God therein,” i.e. through perfect faith. This vision is from God to His creatures. Shiblí says: “I never saw anything except God,” i.e. in the rapture of love and the fervour of contemplation. One sees the act with his bodily eye and, as he looks, beholds the Agent with his spiritual eye; another is rapt by love of the Agent from all things else, so that he sees only the Agent. The one method is demonstrative (istidlálí), the other is ecstatic (jadhbí). In the former case, a manifest proof is derived from the evidences of God; in the latter case, the seer is enraptured and transported by desire: evidences and verities are a veil to him, because he who knows a thing does not reverence aught besides, and he who loves a thing does not regard aught besides, but renounces contention with God and interference with Him in His decrees and His acts. God hath said of the Apostle at the time of his Ascension: “His eyes did not swerve or transgress” (Kor. liii, 17), on account of the intensity of his longing for God. When the lover turns his eye away from created things, he will inevitably see the Creator with his heart. God hath said: “Tell the believers to close their eyes” (Kor. xxiv, 30), i.e. to close their bodily eyes to lusts and their spiritual eyes to created things. He who is most sincere in self-mortification is most firmly grounded in contemplation for inward contemplation is connected with outward mortification. Sahl b. `Abdalláh of Tustar says: “If anyone shuts his eye to God for a single moment, he will never be rightly guided all his life long,” because to regard other than God is to be handed over to other than God, and one who is left at the mercy of other than God is lost. Therefore the life of contemplatives is the time during which they enjoy contemplation (musháhadat): time spent in seeing ocularly (mu`áyanat) they do not reckon as life, for that to them is really death. Thus, when Abú Yazíd was asked how old he was, he replied: “Four years.” They said: “How can that be?” He answered: “I have been veiled (from God) by this world for seventy years, but I have seen Him during the last four years: the period in which one is veiled does not belong to one’s life.” Shiblí cried in his prayers: “O God, hide Paradise and Hell in Thy unseen places, that Thou mayest be worshipped disinterestedly.” One who is forgetful of God nevertheless worships Him, through faith, because human nature has an interest in Paradise; but inasmuch as the heart has no interest in loving God, one who is forgetful of God is debarred from contemplating Him. The Apostle told `Á´isha that he did not see God on the night of the Ascension, but Ibn `Abbás relates that the Apostle told him that he saw God on that occasion. Accordingly, this remains a matter of controversy; but in saying that he did not see God the Apostle was referring to his bodily eye, whereas in saying the contrary he was referring to his spiritual eye. Since `Á´isha was a formalist and Ibn `Abbás a spiritualist, the Apostle spoke with each of them according to their insight. Junayd said: “If God should say to me, ‘Behold Me,’ I should reply, ‘I will not behold Thee,’ because in love the eye is other (than God) and alien: the jealousy of other-ness would prevent me from beholding Him. Since in this world I was wont to behold Him without the mediation of the eye, how should I use such mediation in the next world?“
”Truly, I envy mine eye the sight of Thee,
And I close mine eye when I look on Thee.”
Junayd was asked: “Do you wish to see God?” He said: “No.” They asked why. He answered: “When Moses wished, he did not see Him, and when Muḥammad did not wish, he saw Him.” Our wishing is the greatest of the veils that hinder us from seeing God, because in love the existence of self-will is disobedience, and disobedience is a veil. When self-will vanishes in this world, contemplation is attained, and when contemplation is firmly established, there is no difference between this world and the next. Abú Yazíd says: “God has servants who would apostatize if they were veiled from Him in this world or in the next,” i.e. He sustains them with perpetual contemplation and keeps them alive with the life of love; and when one who enjoys revelation is deprived of it, he necessarily becomes an apostate. Dhu ´l-Nún says: “One day, when I was journeying in Egypt, I saw some boys who were throwing stones at a young man. I asked them what they wanted of him. They said: ‘He is mad.’ I asked how his madness showed itself, and they told me that he pretended to see God. I turned to the young man and inquired whether he had really said this. He answered: ‘I say that if I should not see God for one moment, I should remain veiled and should not be obedient towards Him.’” Some Ṣúfís have fallen into the mistake of supposing that spiritual vision and contemplation represent such an idea (ṣúratí) of God as is formed in the mind by the imagination either from memory or reflection. This is utter anthropomorphism (tashbíh) and manifest error. God is not finite that the imagination should be able to define Him or that the intellect should comprehend His nature. Whatever can be imagined is homogeneous with the intellect, but God is not homogeneous with any genus, although in relation to the Eternal all phenomenal objects—subtle and gross alike—are homogeneous with each other notwithstanding their mutual contrariety. Therefore contemplation in this world resembles vision of God in the next world, and since the Companions of the Apostle (aṣḥáb) are unanimously agreed that vision is possible hereafter, contemplation is possible here. Those who tell of contemplation either in this or the other world only say that it is possible, not that they have enjoyed or now enjoy it, because contemplation is an attribute of the heart (sirr) and cannot be expressed by the tongue except metaphorically. Hence silence ranks higher than speech, for silence is a sign of contemplation (musháhadat), whereas speech is a sign of ocular testimony (shahádat). Accordingly the Apostle, when he attained proximity to God, said: “I cannot tell Thy praise,” because he was in contemplation, and contemplation in the degree of love is perfect unity (yagánagí), and any outward expression in unity is other-ness (bégánagí). Then he said: “Thou hast praised Thyself,” i.e. Thy words are mine, and Thy praise is mine, and I do not deem my tongue capable of expressing what I feel. As the poet says:
“I desired my beloved, but when I saw him
I was dumbfounded and possessed neither tongue nor eye.”
[163]. Here follows the story of Abraham and Nimrod which has occurred before, p. 73.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Uncovering of the Ninth Veil: Concerning Companionship, together with its Rules and Principles.
The Apostle said: “Good manners (ḥusn al-adab) are a part of faith.” And he also said: “My Lord corrected me (addabaní) and gave me an excellent correction.” You must know that the seemliness and decorum of all religious and temporal affairs depends on rules of discipline (ádáb), and that every station in which the various classes of mankind are placed has its own particular rule. Among men good manners consist in the observance of virtue (muruwwat); as regards religion they consist in the observance of the Apostolic custom (sunna); and as regards love they consist in the observance of respect (ḥurmat). These three categories are connected with each other, because one who is without virtue does not comply with the custom of the Apostle, and whoever fails to comply with the custom of the Apostle does not observe due respect. In matters of conduct the observance of discipline is the result of reverence for the object of desire; and reverence for God and His ordinances springs from fear of God (taqwá). Anyone who disrespectfully tramples on the reverence that is due to the evidences of God has no part or lot in the Path of Ṣúfiism; and in no case are rules of discipline neglected by seekers of God, because they are habituated to such rules, and habit is second nature. It is impossible that a living creature should be divested of its natural humours: therefore, so long as the human body remains in existence men are bound to keep the rules of obedience to God, sometimes with effort (takalluf) and sometimes without effort: with effort when they are ‘sober’, but when they are ‘intoxicated’ God sees that they keep the rules. A person who neglects the rules cannot possibly be a saint, for “good manners are characteristic of those whom God loves”. When God vouchsafes a miracle to anyone, it is a proof that He causes him to fulfil the duties of religion. This is opposed to the view of some heretics, who assert that when a man is overpowered by love he is no longer subject to obedience. I will set forth this matter more lucidly in another place.
Rules of discipline are of three kinds. Firstly, those which are observed towards God in unification (tawḥíd). Here the rule is that one must guard one’s self in public and private from any disrespectful act, and behave as though one were in the presence of a king. It is related in the genuine Traditions that one day the Apostle was sitting with his legs drawn in (páy gird). Gabriel came and said: “O Muḥammad, sit as servants do in their master’s presence.” Ḥárith Muḥásibí is said never to have leaned his back against a wall, by day or night, for forty years, and never to have sat except on his knees. On being asked why he gave himself so much trouble he replied: “I am ashamed to sit otherwise than as a servant while I am contemplating God.” I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, was once in a village called Kamand,[[164]] at the extremity of Khurásán. There I saw a well-known and very excellent man, whose name is Adíb-i Kamandí. For twenty years he had never sat down except in his prayers, when he was pronouncing the profession of faith. I inquired the reason of this, and he answered that he had not yet attained such a degree that he should sit while contemplating God. Abú Yazíd was asked by what means he had gained so high spiritual rank. He answered: “By good companionship with God,” i.e. by keeping the rules of discipline and behaving in private as in public. All human beings ought to learn from Zulaykhá how to observe good manners in contemplating the object of their adoration, for when she was alone with Joseph and besought him to consent to her wishes, she first covered up the face of her idol in order that it might not witness her want of propriety. And when the Apostle was borne to Heaven at the Ascension, his observance of discipline restrained him from paying any regard either to this world or to the next.
The second kind of discipline is that which is observed towards one’s self in one’s conduct, and which consists in avoiding, when one is in one’s own company, any act that would be improper in the company of one’s fellow-creatures or of God, e.g., one must not utter an untruth by declaring one’s self to be what one is not, and one must eat little in order that one may seldom go to the lavatory, and one must not look at anything which it is not decent for others to see. It is related that `Alí never beheld his own nakedness, because he was ashamed to see in himself what he was forbidden to see in others.
The third kind of discipline is that which is observed in social intercourse with one’s fellow-creatures. The most important rule for such intercourse is to act well, and to observe the custom of the Apostle at home and abroad.
These three sorts of discipline cannot be separated from one another. Now I will set them forth in detail as far as possible, in order that you and all my readers may follow them more easily.
Chapter on Companionship and matters connected therewith.
God hath said: “Verily, the merciful God will bestow love on those who believe and do good works” (Kor. xix, 96), i.e., He will love them and cause them to be loved, because they do their duty towards their brethren and prefer them to themselves. And the Apostle said: “Three things render thy brother’s love toward thee sincere: that thou shouldst salute him when thou meetest him, and that thou shouldst make room for him when he sits beside thee, and that thou shouldst call him by the name that he likes best.” And God said, “The believers are brethren: therefore reconcile your two brethren” (Kor. xlix, 10); and the Apostle said, “Get many brethren, for your Lord is bashful (ḥayí) and kind: He will be ashamed to punish His servant in the presence of his brethren on the Day of Resurrection.”
But companionship must be for God’s sake, not for the purpose of gratifying the lower soul or any selfish interest, in order that a man may be divinely rewarded for observing the rules of companionship. Málik b. Dínár said to his son-in-law, Mughíra b. Shu`ba: “If you derive no religious benefit from a brother and friend, abandon his society, that you may be saved,” i.e. associate either with one who is superior or with one who is inferior to yourself. In the former case you will derive benefit from him, and in the latter case the benefit will be mutual, since each will learn something from the other. Hence the Apostle said, “It is the whole of piety to instruct one who is ignorant;” and Yaḥyá b. Mu`ádh (al-Rází) said, “He is a bad friend to whom you need to say, ‘Remember me in thy prayers’” (because a man ought always to pray for anyone with whom he has associated even for a moment); and he is a bad friend with whom you cannot live except on condition of flattering him (because candour is involved in the principle of companionship); and he is a bad friend to whom you need to apologize for a fault that you have committed (because apologies are made by strangers, and in companionship it is wrong to be on such terms). The Apostle said: “A man follows the religion of his friend: take heed, therefore, with whom you form a friendship.” If he associates with the good, their society will make him good, although he is bad; and if he associates with the wicked, he will be wicked, although he is good, because he will be consenting to their wickedness. It is related that a man said, while he was circumambulating the Ka`ba, “O God, make my brethren good!” On being asked why he did not implore a boon for himself in such a place, he replied: “I have brethren to whom I shall return; if they are good, I shall be good with them, and if they are wicked, I shall be wicked with them.”
The Ṣúfí Shaykhs demand from each other the fulfilment of the duties of companionship and enjoin their disciples to require the same, so that amongst them companionship has become like a religious obligation. The Shaykhs have written many books explaining the rules of Ṣúfí companionship; e.g., Junayd composed a work entitled Taṣḥíḥ al-irádat,[[165]] and Aḥmad b. Khaḍrúya of Balkh another, entitled Al-Ri`áyat bi-ḥuqúq[[166]] Allah,[[167]] and Muḥammad b. `Alí of Tirmidh another, entitled Ádáb al-murídín.[[168]] Other exhaustive treatises on this subject have been written by Abu ´l-Qásim al-Ḥakím,[[169]] Abú Bakr al-Warráq, Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí), Abú `Abd al-Raḥmán al-Sulamí, and Master Abu ´l-Qásim Qushayrí. All those writers are great authorities on Ṣúfiism, but I desire that my book should enable anyone who possesses it to dispense with other books and, as I said in the preface, be sufficient in itself for you and for all students of the Ṣúfí doctrine. I will now classify in separate chapters their various rules of discipline relating to conduct.
Chapter concerning the Rules of Companionship.
Since you have perceived that the most important thing for the novice is companionship, the fulfilment of its obligations is necessarily incumbent on him. Solitude is fatal to the novice, for the Apostle said, “Satan is with the solitary, but he is farther away from two who are together;” and God hath said, “There is no private discourse among three persons but God is the fourth of them” (Kor. lviii, 8). I have read in the Anecdotes that a disciple of Junayd imagined that he had attained to the degree of perfection, and that it was better for him to be alone. Accordingly he went into retirement and withdrew from the society of his brethren. At nightfall a camel used to appear, and he was told that it would take him to Paradise; on mounting it, he was conveyed to a pleasant demesne, with beautiful inhabitants and delicious viands and flowing streams, where he stayed till dawn; then he fell asleep, and on waking found himself at the door of his cell. These experiences filled him with pride and he could not refrain from boasting of them. When Junayd heard the story he hastened to the disciple’s cell, and having received from him a full account of what had passed, said to him: “To-night, when you come to that place, remember to say thrice, ‘There is no strength or power but in God, the High, the Great.’” The same night he was carried off as usual, and though in his heart he did not believe Junayd, by way of trial he repeated those words thrice. The crew around him shrieked and vanished, and he found himself seated on a dunghill in the midst of rotten bones. He acknowledged his fault and repented and returned to companionship.
The principle of the Ṣúfís in companionship is that they should treat everyone according to his degree. Thus they treat old men with respect, like fathers; those of their own sort with agreeable familiarity, like brothers; and young men with affection, like sons. They renounce hate, envy, and malice, and do not withhold sincere admonition from anyone. In companionship it is not permissible to speak evil of the absent, or to behave dishonestly, or to deny one another on account of any word or deed, because a companionship which is begun for God’s sake should not be cut short by human words or acts. The author says: “I asked the Grand Shaykh Abu ´l-Qásim Gurgání what obligations were involved in companionship. He replied: ‘It involves this, that you should not seek your own interest; all the evils of companionship arise from selfishness. Solitude is better for a selfish man. He who neglects his own interests and looks after the interests of his companion hits the mark in companionship.’” A certain dervish relates as follows: “Once I set out from Kúfa to visit Mecca. On the way I met Ibráhím Khawwáṣ and begged him to let me accompany him. He said: ‘In companionship it is necessary that one should command and the other should obey: which do you choose?’ I answered: ‘You be the commander.’ He said: ‘Now do not fail to comply with my orders.’ When we arrived at the halting-place, he bade me sit down, and himself drew water from the well and, since the weather was cold, he gathered sticks and kindled a fire, and whenever I attempted to do anything he told me to sit down. At nightfall it began to rain heavily. He took off his patched frock and held it over my head all night. I was ashamed, but could not say a word on account of the condition imposed on me. When morning came, I said: ‘To-day it is my turn to be commander.’ He said: ‘Very well.’ As soon as we reached the halting-place, he began to perform the same menial offices as before, and on my telling him not to disobey my orders he retorted that it was an act of disobedience to let one’s self be served by one’s commander. He continued to behave in this way until we arrived at Mecca; then I felt so ashamed that I fled from him. He espied me, however, at Miná and said to me: ‘O son, when you associate with dervishes see that you treat them in the same fashion as I treated you.’”
Dervishes are divided into two classes: residents (muqímán) and travellers (musáfirán). According to the custom of the Shaykhs, the travelling dervishes should regard the resident ones as superior to themselves, because they go to and fro in their own interest, while the resident dervishes have settled down in the service of God: in the former is the sign of search, in the latter is the token of attainment; hence those who have found and settled down are superior to those who are still seeking. Similarly, the resident dervishes ought to regard the travelling ones as superior to themselves, because they are laden with worldly encumbrances, while the travelling dervishes are unencumbered and detached from the world. Again, old men should prefer to themselves the young, who are newer to the world and whose sins are less numerous; and young men should prefer to themselves the old, who have outstripped them in devotion and service.
Section.
Culture (adab) really means “the collection of virtuous qualities”, though in ordinary language anyone is called “cultured” (adíb) who is acquainted with Arabic philology and grammar. But the Ṣúfís define culture as “dwelling with praiseworthy qualities”, and say that it means “to act with propriety towards God in public and private”; if you act thus, you are “cultured”, even if you are a foreigner (i.e. a non-Arab), and if not, you are the opposite. Those who have knowledge are in every case more honoured than those who have intelligence. A certain Shaykh was asked: “What does culture involve?” He said: ”I will answer you by quoting a definition which I have heard, ‘If you speak, your speech will be sincere, and if you act, your actions will be true.’ An excellent distinction has been made by Shaykh Abú Naṣr Sarráj, the author of the Luma`, who says: “As regards culture (adab), there are three classes of mankind. Firstly, worldlings, whose culture mainly consists in eloquence and rhetoric and learning and knowledge of the nightly conversations (asmár[[170]]) of kings and Arabic poetry. Secondly, the religious, whose culture chiefly consists in disciplining the lower soul and correcting the limbs and observing the legal ordinances and renouncing lusts. Thirdly, the elect (i.e. the Ṣúfís), whose culture consists for the most part in spiritual purity and keeping watch over their hearts and fulfilling their promises and guarding the ‘state’ in which they are and paying no heed to extraneous suggestions and behaving with propriety in the positions of search (for God), in the states of presence (with God), and in the stations of proximity (to God).” This saying is comprehensive. The different matters which it includes are discussed in several places in this book.
Chapter on the Rules of Companionship affecting Residents.
Dervishes who choose to reside, and not to travel, are bound to observe the following rules of discipline. When a traveller comes to them, they must meet him joyfully and receive him with respect and treat him like an honoured guest and freely set before him whatever food they have, modelling their behaviour upon that of Abraham. They must not inquire whence he has come or whither he is going or what is his name, but must deem that he has come from God and is going to God and that his name is “servant of God”; then they must see whether he desires to be alone or in company: if he prefers to be alone, they must give him an empty room, and if he prefers company, they must consort with him unceremoniously in a friendly and sociable manner. When he lays his head on his pillow at night the resident dervish ought to offer to wash his feet, but if the traveller should not allow him to do this and should say that he is not accustomed to it, the resident must not insist, for fear of causing him annoyance. Next day, he must offer him a bath and take him to the cleanest bath available and save his clothes from (becoming dirty in) the latrines of the bath, and not permit a strange attendant to wait upon him, but wait upon him zealously in order to make him clean of all stains, and scrape (bikhárad) his back and rub his knees and the soles of his feet and his hands: more than this he is not obliged to do. And if the resident dervish has sufficient means, he should provide a new garment for his guest; otherwise, he need not trouble himself, but he should clean his guest’s clothes so that he may put them on when he comes out of the bath. If the traveller remains two or three days, he should be invited to visit any spiritual director or Imám who may be in the town, but he must not be compelled to pay such visits against his inclination, because those who seek God are not always masters of their own feelings; e.g., Ibráhím Khawwáṣ on one occasion refused to accompany Khiḍr, who desired his society, for he was unwilling that his feelings should be engaged by anyone except God. Certainly it is not right that a resident dervish should take a traveller to salute worldly men or to attend their entertainments, sick-beds, and funerals; and if a resident hopes to make travellers an instrument of mendicancy (álat-i gadá´í) and conduct them from house to house, it would be better for him to refrain from serving them instead of subjecting them to humiliation. Among all the troubles and inconveniences that I have suffered when travelling none was worse than to be carried off time after time by ignorant servants and impudent dervishes of this sort and conducted from the house of such and such a Khwája to the house of such and such a Dihqán, while, though apparently complaisant, I felt a great dislike to go with them. I then vowed that, if ever I became resident, I would not behave towards travellers with this impropriety. Nothing derived from associating with ill-mannered persons is more useful than the lesson that you must endure their disagreeable behaviour and must not imitate it. On the other hand, if a travelling dervish becomes at his ease (munbasiṭ) with a resident and stays for some time and makes a worldly demand, the resident is bound immediately to give him what he wants; but if the traveller is an impostor and low-minded, the resident must not act meanly in order to comply with his impossible requirements, for this is not the way of those who are devoted to God. What business has a dervish to associate with devotees if he needs worldly things? Let him go to the market and buy and sell, or let him be a soldier at the sultan’s court. It is related that, while Junayd and his pupils were sitting occupied in some ascetic discipline, a travelling dervish came in. They exerted themselves to entertain him and placed food before him. He said: “I want such and such a thing besides this.” Junayd said to him: “You must go to the bazaar, for you are a man of the market, not of the mosque and the cell.” Once I set out from Damascus with two dervishes to visit Ibn al-Mu`allá,[[171]] who was living in the country near Ramla. On the way we arranged that each of us should think of the matter concerning which we were in doubt, in order that that venerable director might tell us our secret thoughts and solve our difficulties. I said to myself: “I will desire of him the poems and intimate supplications (munáját) of Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj).” One of my companions said, “I will desire him to pray that my disease of the spleen (ṭiḥál) may become better;” and the other said, “I will wish for sweetmeat of different colours” (ḥalwá-yi ṣábúní). As soon as we arrived, Ibn al-Mu`allá commanded that a manuscript of the poems and supplications of Ḥusayn should be presented to me, and laid his hand on the belly of the invalid so that his illness was assuaged, and said to the other dervish: “Parti-coloured sweetmeat is eaten by soldiers (`awánán); you are dressed as a saint, and the dress of a saint does not accord with the appetite of a soldier. Choose one or the other.”
In short, the resident is not obliged to pay attention to the travelling dervish unless the latter’s attention is paid entirely to God. If he is devoted to his own interests, it is impossible that another should help him to gratify his selfishness, for dervishes are guides (ráhbarán), not brigands (ráhburán), to each other. So long as anyone perseveres in a selfish demand, his friend ought to resist it, but when he renounces it, then his friend ought to satisfy it. In the Traditions of the Apostle it is related that he made a brotherhood between Salmán (al-Fárisí) and Abú Dharr Ghifárí, both of whom were leading men among the People of the Veranda (ahl-i ṣuffa) and eminent spiritualists. One day, when Salmán came to visit Abú Dharr at his house, Abú Dharr’s wife complained to him that her husband neither ate by day nor slept by night. Salmán told her to fetch some food, and said to Abú Dharr: “O brother, I desire thee to eat, since this fasting is not incumbent on thee.” Abú Dharr complied. And at night Salmán said: “O brother, I beg thee to sleep: thy body and thy wife have a claim upon thee, as well as thy Lord.” Next day Abú Dharr went to the Apostle, who said: “I say the same thing as Salmán said yesterday: verily, thy body has a claim upon thee.” Inasmuch as Abú Dharr had renounced his selfish pleasures, Salmán persuaded him to gratify them. Whatever you do on this principle is sound and impregnable. Once, in the territories of `Iráq, I was restlessly occupied (tápákí míkardam) in seeking wealth and squandering it, and I had run largely into debt. Everyone who wanted anything turned to me, and I was troubled and at a loss to know how I could accomplish their desires. An eminent person wrote to me as follows: “Beware lest you distract your mind from God by satisfying the wishes of those whose minds are engrossed in vanity. If you find anyone whose mind is nobler than your own, you may justly distract your mind in order to give peace to his. Otherwise, do not distract yourself, since God is sufficient for His servants.” These words brought me instant relief.
Chapter concerning their Rules in Travel.
When a dervish chooses to travel, not to reside, he ought to observe the following rules. In the first place, he must travel for God’s sake, not for pleasure, and as he journeys outwardly, so he should flee inwardly from his sensual affections; and he must always keep himself in a state of purity and not neglect his devotions; and his object in travelling must be either pilgrimage or war (against infidels) or to see a (holy) site or to derive instruction or to seek knowledge or to visit a venerable person, a Shaykh, or the tomb of a saint; otherwise his journey will be faulty. And he cannot do without a patched frock and a prayer-rug and a bucket and a rope and a pair of shoes (kafsh) or clogs (na`layn) and a staff: the patched frock to cover his nakedness, the prayer-rug to pray on, the bucket to cleanse himself with, and the staff to protect him from attacks and for other purposes. Before stepping on the prayer-rug he must put on his shoes or clogs in a state of purity. If anyone carries other articles, for the sake of keeping the Sunna (Apostolic custom), such as a comb and nail-scissors and a needle and a little box of antimony (mukḥula), he does right. If, however, anyone provides himself with more utensils than those which have been mentioned, we have to consider in what station he is: if he is a novice every article will be a shackle and a stumbling-block and a veil to him, and will afford him the means of showing self-conceit, but if he is a firmly grounded adept he may carry all these articles and more. I heard the following story from Shaykh Abú Muslim Fáris b. Ghálib al-Fárisí. “One day (he said) I paid a visit to Shaykh Abú Sa`íd b. Abi ´l-Khayr Faḍlalláh b. Muḥammad. I found him sleeping on a couch with four cushions (takhtí chahár-bálish), one of his legs thrown across the other; and he was dressed in fine Egyptian linen (diqqí Miṣrí). My garment was so dirty that it resembled leather, and my body was emaciated by austerities. On looking at Abú Sa`íd a feeling of scepticism overcame me. I said to myself: ‘He is a dervish, and so am I, yet he is in all this luxury and I in this sore tribulation.’ He immediately divined my thoughts and was aware of my vainglory. ‘O Abú Muslim,’ said he, ‘in what díwán have you read that a self-conceited man is a dervish? Since I see God in all things, God sets me on a throne, and since you see yourself in everything, God keeps you in affliction: my lot is contemplation, while yours is mortification. These are two stations on the Way to God, but God is far aloof from them both, and a dervish is dead to all stations and free from all states.’ On hearing these words my senses forsook me, and the whole world grew dark in my eyes. When I came to myself I repented, and he accepted my repentance. Then I said: ‘O Shaykh, give me leave to depart, for I cannot bear the sight of thee.’ He answered, ‘O Abú Muslim, you speak the truth;’ then he quoted this verse:—
‘That which my ear was unable to hear by report
My eye beheld actually all at once.’”
The travelling dervish must always observe the custom of the Apostle, and when he comes to the house of a resident he should enter his presence respectfully and greet him; and he should first take off the shoe on his left foot, as the Apostle did; and when he puts his shoes on, he should first put on the shoe belonging to his right foot; and he should wash his right foot before his left; and he should perform two bowings of the head by way of salutation (in prayer) and then occupy himself with attending to the (religious) duties incumbent on dervishes. He must not in any case interfere with the residents, or behave immoderately towards anyone, or talk of the hardships which he may have suffered in travelling, or discourse on theology, or tell anecdotes, or recite traditions in company, for all this is a sign of self-conceit. He must be patient when he is vexed by fools and must tolerate their irksomeness for God’s sake, for in patience there are many blessings. If residents or their servants bid him go with them to salute or visit the townspeople, he must acquiesce if he can, but in his heart he ought to dislike paying such marks of respect to worldlings, although he should excuse the behaviour of his brethren who act thus. He must take care not to trouble them by making any unreasonable demand, and he must not drag them to the court of high officials with the purpose of seeking an idle pleasure for himself. Travelling, as well as resident, dervishes must always, in companionship, endeavour to please God, and must have a good belief in each other, and not speak ill of any comrade face to face with him or behind his back, because true mystics in regarding the act see the Agent, and inasmuch as every human being, of whatever description he may be—faulty or faultless, veiled or illuminated—belongs to God and is His creature, to quarrel with a human act is to quarrel with the Divine Agent.
Chapter concerning their Rules in Eating.
Men cannot dispense with nourishment, but moral virtue requires that they should not eat or drink in excess. Sháfi`í says: “He who thinks about that which goes into his belly is worth only that which comes out of it.” Nothing is more hurtful to a novice in Ṣúfiism than eating too much. I have read in the Anecdotes that Abú Yazíd was asked why he praised hunger so highly. He answered: “Because if Pharaoh had been hungry he would not have said, ‘I am your Supreme Lord,’ and if Qárún (Korah) had been hungry he would not have been rebellious.” Tha`laba[[172]] was praised by all so long as he was hungry, but when he ate his fill he displayed hypocrisy. Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) said: “In my judgment, a belly full of wine is better than one full of lawful food.” On being asked the reason of this he said: “When a man’s belly is filled with wine, his intellect is stupefied and the flame of lust is quenched, and people are secure from his hand and tongue; but when his belly is filled with lawful food he desires foolishness, and his lust waxes great and his lower soul rises to seek her pleasures.” The Shaykhs have said, describing the Ṣúfís: “They eat like sick men, and sleep like shipwrecked men, and speak like one whose children have died.”
It is an obligatory rule that they should not eat alone, but should unselfishly share their food with one another; and when seated at table they should not be silent, and should begin by saying “In God’s name”; and they should not put anything down or lift anything up in such a way as to offend their comrades, and they should dip the first mouthful in salt, and should deal fairly by their friends. Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) was asked about the meaning of the verse: “Verily God enjoins justice and beneficence” (Kor. xvi, 92). He replied: “Justice consists in dealing fairly with one’s friend in regard to a morsel of food, and beneficence consists in deeming him to have a better claim to that morsel than yourself.” My Shaykh used to say: “I am astonished at the impostor who declares that he has renounced the world, and is anxious about a morsel of food.” Furthermore, the Ṣúfí should eat with his right hand and should look only at his own morsel, and while eating he should not drink unless he is extremely thirsty, and if he drinks he should drink only as much as will moisten his liver. He should not eat large mouthfuls, and should chew his food well and not make haste; otherwise he will be acting contrary to the custom of the Apostle, and will probably suffer from indigestion (tukhama). When he has finished eating, he should give praise to God and wash his hands. If two or three or more persons belonging to a community of dervishes go to a dinner and eat something without informing their brethren, according to some Shaykhs this is unlawful and constitutes a breach of companionship, but some hold it to be allowable when a number of persons act thus in union with each other, and some allow it in the case of a single person, on the ground that he is not obliged to deal fairly when he is alone but when he is in company; consequently, being alone, he is relieved of the obligations of companionship and is not responsible for his act. Now, the most important principle in this matter is that the invitation of a dervish should not be refused, and that the invitation of a rich man should not be accepted. Dervishes ought not to go to the houses of rich men or beg anything of them: such conduct is demoralizing for Ṣúfís, because worldlings are not on confidential terms (maḥram) with the dervish. Much wealth, however, does not make a man “rich” (dunyá-dár), nor does little wealth make him “poor”. No one who acknowledges that poverty is better than riches is “rich”, even though he be a king; and anyone who disbelieves in poverty is “rich”, even though he be reduced to want. When a dervish attends a party he should not constrain himself either to eat or not to eat, but should behave in accordance with his feelings at the time (bar ḥukm-i waqt). If the host is a congenial person (maḥram), it is right that a married man (muta´ahhil) should condone a fault; and if the host is uncongenial, it is not allowable to go to his house. But in any case it is better not to commit a fault, for Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) says: “Backsliding is abasement” (al-zillat dhillat).
Chapter concerning their Rules in Walking.
God hath said: “And the servants of the Merciful are they who walk on the earth meekly” (Kor. xxv, 64). The seeker of God, as he walks, should know at each step he makes whether that step is against God or of God: if it is against God, he must ask for pardon, and if it is of God, he must persevere in it, that it may be increased. One day Dáwud Ṭá´í had taken some medicine. They said to him: “Go into the court of this house for a little while, in order that the good result of the medicine may become apparent.” He replied: “I am ashamed that on the Day of Judgment God should ask me why I made a few steps for my own selfish pleasure. God Almighty hath said: ‘And their feet shall bear witness of that which they used to commit’“ (Kor. xxxvi, 65). Therefore the dervish should walk circumspectly, with his head bowed in meditation (muráqabat), and not look in any direction but in front. If any person meets him on the way, he must not draw himself back from him for the sake of saving his dress, for all Moslems are clean, and their clothes too; such an act is mere conceit and self-ostentation. If, however, the person who meets him is an unbeliever, or manifestly filthy, he may turn from him unobtrusively. And when he walks with a number of people, he must not attempt to go in front of them, since that is an excess of pride; nor must he attempt to go behind them, since that is an excess of humility, and humility of which one is conscious is essentially pride. He must keep his clogs and shoes as clean as he can by day in order that God, through the blessings thereof, may keep his clothes (clean) by night. And when one or more dervishes are with anyone, he should not stop on the way (to talk) with any person, nor should he tell that person to wait for him. He should walk quietly and should not hurry, else his walk will resemble that of the covetous; nor should he walk slowly, for then his walk will resemble that of the proud; and he should take steps of the full length (gám-i tamám nihad). In fine, the walk of the seeker of God should always be of such a description that if anyone should ask him whither he is going he should be able to answer decisively: ”Verily, I am going to my Lord: He will direct me” (Kor. xxxvii, 97). Otherwise his walking is a curse to him, because right steps (khaṭawát) proceed from right thoughts (khaṭarát): accordingly if a man’s thoughts are concentrated on God, his feet will follow his thoughts. It is related that Abú Yazíd said: “The inconsiderate walk (rawish-i bé muráqabat) of a dervish is a sign that he is heedless (of God), because all that exists is attained in two steps: one step away from self-interest and the other step firmly planted on the commandments of God.” The walk of the seeker is a sign that he is traversing a certain distance, and since proximity to God is not a matter of distance, what can the seeker do but cut off his feet in the abode of rest?
Chapter concerning their Rules of Sleeping in travel and at home.
There is a great difference of opinion among the Shaykhs on this subject. Some hold that it is not permissible for a novice to sleep except when he is overpowered by slumber, for the Apostle said: “Sleep is the brother of Death,” and inasmuch as life is a benefit conferred by God, whereas death is an affliction, the former must be more excellent than the latter. And it is related that Shiblí said: “God looked upon me and said, ‘He who sleeps is heedless, and he who is heedless is veiled.’” Others, again, hold that a novice may sleep at will and even constrain himself to sleep after having performed the Divine commands, for the Apostle said: “The Pen does not record (evil actions) against the sleeper until he awakes, or against the boy until he reaches puberty, or against the madman until he recovers his wits.” When a man is asleep, people are secure from his mischief and he is deprived of his personal volition and his lower soul is prevented from gaining its desires and the Recording Angels cease to write; his tongue makes no false assertion and speaks no evil of the absent, and his will places no hope in conceit and ostentation; “he does not possess for himself either bane or boon or death or life or resurrection.” Hence Ibn `Abbás says: “Nothing is more grievous to Iblís than a sinner’s sleep; whenever the sinner sleeps, Iblís says, ‘When will he wake and rise up that he may disobey God?’” This was a point of controversy between Junayd and `Alí b. Sahl al-Iṣfahání. The latter wrote to Junayd a very fine epistle, which I have heard, to the effect that sleep is heedlessness and rest is a turning away from God: the lover must not sleep or rest by day or by night, otherwise he will lose the object of his desire and will forget himself and his state and will fail to attain to God, as God said to David, “O David, he who pretends to love Me and sleeps when night covers him is a liar.” Junayd said in his reply to that letter: “Our wakefulness consists in our acts of devotion to God, whereas our sleep is God’s act towards us: that which proceeds from God to us without our will is more perfect than that which proceeds from us to God with our will. Sleep is a gift which God bestows on those who love Him.” This question depends on the doctrine of sobriety and intoxication, which has been fully discussed above. It is remarkable that Junayd, who was himself a “sober” man, here supports intoxication. Seemingly, he was enraptured at the time when he wrote and his temporary state may have expressed itself by his tongue; or, again, it may be that the opposite is the case and that sleep is actually sobriety, while wakefulness is actually intoxication, because sleep is an attribute of humanity, and a man is “sober” so long as he is in the shadow of his attributes: wakefulness, on the other hand, is an attribute of God, and when a man transcends his own attribute he is enraptured. I have met with a number of Shaykhs who agree with Junayd in preferring sleep to wakefulness, because the visions of the saints and of most of the apostles occurred during sleep. And the Apostle said: “Verily, God takes pride in the servant who sleeps while he prostrates himself in prayer; and He says to His angels, ‘Behold My servant, whose spirit is in the abode of secret conversation (najwá) while his body is on the carpet of worship.’” The Apostle also said: “Whoever sleeps in a state of purification, his spirit is permitted to circumambulate the Throne and prostrate itself before God.” I have read in the Anecdotes that Sháh Shujá` of Kirmán kept awake for forty years. One night he fell asleep and saw God, and afterwards he used always to sleep in hope of seeing the same vision. This is the meaning of the verse of Qays of the Banú `Ámir[[173]]—
“Truly I wish to sleep, although I am not drowsy,
That perchance thy beloved image may encounter mine.”
Other Shaykhs whom I have seen agree with `Alí b. Sahl in preferring wakefulness to sleep, because the apostles received their revelations and the saints their miracles while they were awake. One of the Shaykhs says: “If there were any good in sleep there would be sleep in Paradise,” i.e., if sleep were the cause of love and proximity to God, it would follow that there must be sleep in Paradise, which is the dwelling-place of proximity; since neither sleep nor any veil is in Paradise, we know that sleep is a veil. Those who are fond of subtleties (arbáb-i láṭá´if) say that when Adam fell asleep in Paradise Eve came forth from his left side, and Eve was the source of all his afflictions. They say also that when Abraham told Ishmael that he had been ordered in a dream to sacrifice him, Ishmael replied: “This is the punishment due to one who sleeps and forgets his beloved. If you had not fallen asleep you would not have been commanded to sacrifice your son.” It is related that Shiblí every night used to place in front of him a bowl of salt water and a needle for applying collyrium, and whenever he was about to fall asleep he would dip the needle in the salt water and draw it along his eyelids. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, have met with a spiritual director who used to sleep after finishing the performance of his obligatory acts of devotion; and I have seen Shaykh Aḥmad Samarqandí, who was living at Bukhárá: during forty years he had never slept at night, but he used to sleep a little in the daytime. This question turns on the view taken of life and death. Those who prefer death to life must prefer sleep to waking, while those who prefer life to death must prefer waking to sleep. Merit belongs, not to the man who forces himself to keep awake, but to the man who is kept awake. The Apostle, whom God chose and whom He raised to the highest rank, did not force himself either to sleep or to wake. God commanded him, saying: “Rise and pray during the night, except a small part: half thereof or less” (Kor. lxxiii, 2-3). Similarly, merit does not belong to the man who forces himself to sleep, but only to the man who is put to sleep. The Men of the Cave did not constrain themselves to sleep or to wake, but God threw slumber upon them and nourished them without their will. When a man attains to such a degree that his will no longer exists, and his hand is withdrawn from everything, and his thoughts are averted from all except God, it matters not whether he is asleep or awake: in either case he is full of honour. Now, as regards the sleep of the novice, he ought to deem that his first sleep is his last, and repent of his sins and satisfy all who have a claim against him; and he ought to perform a comely purification and sleep on his right side, facing the qibla; and having set his worldly affairs in order, he ought to give thanks for the blessing of Islam, and make a vow that if he should wake again he will not return to sin. One who has set his affairs in order while he is awake has no fear of sleep or of death. A well-known story is told of a certain spiritual director, that he used to visit an Imám who was engrossed in maintaining his dignity and was a prey to self-conceit, and that he used to say to him: “O So-and-so, you must die.” This offended the Imám, for “why (he said) should this beggar be always repeating these words to me?” One day he answered: “I will begin to-morrow.” Next day when the spiritual director came in the Imám said to him: “O So-and-so, you must die.” He put down his prayer-rug and spread it out, and laid his head on it and exclaimed, “I am dead,” and immediately yielded up his soul. The Imám took warning, and perceived that this spiritual director had been bidding him prepare for death, as he himself had done. My Shaykh used to enjoin his disciples not to sleep unless overpowered by slumber, and when they had once awaked not to fall asleep again, since a second sleep is unlawful and unprofitable to those who seek God.
Chapter concerning their Rules in Speech and Silence.
God hath commanded His servants to speak well, e.g. to acknowledge His lordship and to praise Him and to call mankind to His court. Speech is a great blessing conferred on Man by God, and thereby is Man distinguished from all other things. Some interpreters of the text, “We have honoured the sons of Adam” (Kor. xvii, 72), explain it as meaning “by the gift of speech”. Nevertheless, in speech there are also great evils, for the Apostle said: “The worst that I fear for my people is the tongue.” In short, speech is like wine: it intoxicates the mind, and those who begin to have a taste for it cannot abstain from it. Accordingly, the Ṣúfís, knowing that speech is harmful, never spoke except when it was necessary, i.e. they considered the beginning and end of their discourse; if the whole was for God’s sake, they spoke; otherwise they kept silence, because they firmly believed that God knows our secret thoughts (cf. Kor. xliii, 80). The Apostle said: “He who keeps silence is saved.” In silence there are many advantages and spiritual favours (futúḥ), and in speech there are many evils. Some Shaykhs have preferred silence to speech, while others have set speech above silence. Among the former is Junayd, who said: “Expressions are wholly pretensions, and where realities are established pretensions are idle.” Sometimes it is excusable not to speak although one has the will to do so, i.e. fear becomes an excuse for not speaking in spite of one’s having the will and the power to speak; and refusal to speak of God does not impair the essence of gnosis. But at no time is a man excused for mere pretension devoid of reality, which is the principle of hypocrites. Pretension without reality is hypocrisy, and reality without pretension is sincerity, because “he who is grounded in eloquence needs no tongue to communicate with his Lord”. Expressions only serve to inform another than God, for God Himself requires no explanation of our circumstances, and others than God are not worth so much that we should occupy ourselves with them. This is corroborated by the saying of Junayd, “He who knows God is dumb,” for in actual vision (`iyán) exposition (bayán) is a veil. It is related that Shiblí rose up in Junayd’s meeting-place and cried aloud, “O my object of desire!” and pointed to God. Junayd said: “O Abú Bakr, if God is the object of your desire, why do you point to Him, who is independent of this? And if the object of your desire is another, God knows what you say: why do you speak falsely?” Shiblí asked God to pardon him for having uttered those words.
Those who put speech above silence argue that we are commanded by God to set forth our circumstances, for the pretension subsists in the reality, and vice versâ. If a man continues for a thousand years to know God in his heart and soul, but has not confessed that he knows God, he is virtually an infidel unless his silence has been due to compulsion. God has bidden all believers give Him thanks and praise and rehearse His bounties, and He has promised to answer the prayers of those who invoke Him. One of the Shaykhs has said that whoever does not declare his spiritual state is without any spiritual state, since the state proclaims itself.
“The tongue of the state (lisán al-ḥál) is more eloquent than my tongue,
And my silence is the interpreter of my question.”
I have read in the Anecdotes that one day when Abú Bakr Shiblí was walking in the Karkh quarter of Baghdád he heard an impostor saying: “Silence is better than speech.” Shiblí replied: “Thy silence is better than thy speech, but my speech is better than my silence, because thy speech is vanity and thy silence is an idle jest, whereas my silence is modesty and my speech is knowledge.” I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, declare that there are two kinds of speech and two kinds of silence: speech is either real or unreal, and silence is either fruition or forgetfulness. If one speaks truth, his speech is better than his silence, but if one speaks falsehood, his silence is better than his speech. “He who speaks hits the mark or misses it, but he who is made to speak is preserved from transgression.” Thus Iblís said, “I am better than he” (Kor. xxxviii, 77), but Adam was made to say, “O Lord, we have done wrong unto ourselves” (Kor. vii, 22). The missionaries (dá`iyán) of this sect are permitted or compelled to speak, and shame or helplessness strikes them dumb: “he whose silence is shame, his speech is life.” Their speech is the result of vision, and speech without vision appears to them despicable. They prefer silence to speech so long as they are with themselves, but when they are beside themselves their words are written on the hearts of men. Hence that spiritual director said: “He whose silence to God is gold, his speech to another than God is gilt.” The seeker of God, who is absorbed in servantship, must be silent, in order that the adept, who proclaims Lordship, may speak, and by his utterances may captivate the hearts of his disciples. The rule in speaking is not to speak unless bidden, and then only of the thing that is bidden; and the rule in silence is not to be ignorant or satisfied with ignorance or forgetful. The disciple must not interrupt the speech of spiritual directors, or let his personal judgment intrude therein, or use far-fetched expressions in answering them. He must never tell a lie, or speak ill of the absent, or offend any Moslem with that tongue which has made the profession of faith and acknowledged the unity of God. He must not address dervishes by their bare names or speak to them until they ask a question. It behoves the dervish, when he is silent, not to be silent in falsehood, and when he speaks, to speak only the truth. This principle has many derivatives and innumerable refinements, but I will not pursue the subject, lest my book should become too long.
Chapter concerning their Rules in Asking.
God hath said: “They ask not men with importunity” (Kor. ii, 274). Any one of them who asks should not be repulsed, for God said to the Apostle: “Do not drive away the beggar” (Kor. xciii, 10). As far as possible they should beg of God only, for begging involves turning away from God to another, and when a man turns away from God there is danger that God may leave him in that predicament. I have read that a certain worldling said to Rábi`a `Adawiyya[[174]]: “O Rábi`a, ask something of me that I may procure what you wish.” “O sir,” she replied, “I am ashamed to ask anything of the Creator of the world; how, then, should I not be ashamed to ask anything of a fellow-creature?” It is related that in the time of Abú Muslim, the head of the (`Abbásid) propaganda, an innocent dervish was seized on suspicion of theft, and was imprisoned at Chahár Ṭáq.[[175]] On the same night Abú Muslim dreamed that the Apostle came to him and said: “God has sent me to tell you that one of His friends is in your prison. Arise and set him free.” Abú Muslim leapt from his bed, and ran with bare head and feet to the prison gate, and gave orders to release the dervish, and begged his pardon and bade him ask a boon. “O prince,” he replied, “one whose Master rouses Abú Muslim at midnight, and sends him to deliver a poor dervish from affliction—how should that one ask a boon of others?” Abú Muslim began to weep, and the dervish went on his way. Some, however, hold that a dervish may beg of his fellow-creatures, since God says: “They ask not men with importunity,” i.e. they may ask but not importune. The Apostle begged for the sake of providing for his companions, and he said to us: “Seek your wants from those whose faces are comely.”
The Ṣúfí Shaykhs consider begging to be permissible in three cases. Firstly, with the object of freeing one’s mind from preoccupation, for, as they have said, we should not attach so much importance to two cakes of bread that we should spend the whole day and night in expecting them; and when we are starving we want nothing else of God, because no anxiety is so engrossing as anxiety on account of food. Therefore, when the disciple of Shaqíq visited Báyazíd, and in answer to Báyazíd’s question as to the state of Shaqíq informed him that he was entirely disengaged from mankind, and was putting all his trust in God, Báyazíd said: “When you return to Shaqíq, tell him to beware of again testing God with two loaves: if he is hungry, let him beg of his fellow-creatures and have done with the cant of trust in God.” Secondly, it is permissible to beg with the object of training the lower soul. The Ṣúfís beg in order that they may endure the humiliation of begging, and may perceive what is their worth in the eyes of other men, and may not be proud. When Shiblí came to Junayd, Junayd said to him: “O Abú Bakr, your head is full of conceit, because you are the son of the Caliph’s principal chamberlain and the governor of Sámarrá. No good will come from you until you go to the market and beg of everyone whom you see, that you may know your true worth.” Shiblí obeyed. He begged in the market for three years, with ever decreasing success. One day, having gone through the whole market and got nothing, he returned to Junayd and told him. Junayd said: “Now, Abú Bakr, you see that you have no worth in the eyes of men: do not fix your heart on them. This matter (i.e. begging) is for the sake of discipline, not for the sake of profit.” It is related that Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian said: “I had a friend who was in accord with God. After his death I saw him in a dream, and asked him how God had dealt with him. He answered that God had forgiven him. I asked him: ‘On account of what virtue?’ He replied that God raised him to his feet and said: ‘My servant, you suffered with patience much contumely and tribulation from base and avaricious men, to whom you stretched out your hands: therefore I forgive you.’” Thirdly, they beg from mankind because of their reverence for God. They recognize that all worldly possessions belong to God, and they regard all mankind as His agents, from whom—not from God Himself—they beg anything that is for the benefit of the lower soul; and in the eyes of one who beholds his own want, the servant that makes a petition to an agent is more reverent and obedient than he that makes a petition to God. Therefore, their begging from another is a sign of presence and of turning towards God, not a sign of absence and of turning away from Him. I have read that Yaḥyá b. Mu`ádh (al-Rází) had a daughter, who one day asked her mother for something. “Ask it of God,” said the mother. “I am ashamed,” the girl replied, “to ask a material want from Him. What you give me is His too and is my allotted portion.” The rules of begging are as follows: If you beg unsuccessfully you should be more cheerful than when you succeed, and you should not regard any human creature as coming between God and yourself. You should not beg of women or market-folk (aṣḥáb-i aswáq), and you should not tell your secret to anyone unless you are sure that his money is lawful. As far as possible you should beg unselfishly, and should not use the proceeds for worldly show and for housekeeping, or convert them into property. You should live in the present, and let no thought of the morrow enter your mind, else you will incur everlasting perdition. You should not make God a springe to catch alms, and you should not display piety in order that more alms may be given to you on account of your piety. I once met an old and venerable Ṣúfí, who had lost his way in the desert and came, hunger-stricken, into the market-place at Kúfa with a sparrow perched on his hand, crying: “Give me something for the sake of this sparrow!” The people asked him why he said this. He replied: “It is impossible that I should say ‘Give me something for God’s sake!’ One must employ the intercession of an insignificant creature to obtain worldly goods.“
This is but a small part of the obligations involved in begging. I have abridged the topic for fear of being tedious.
Chapter concerning their Rules in Marriage and Celibacy and matters connected therewith.
God hath said: ”They (women) are a garment unto you and ye are a garment unto them” (Kor. ii, 183). And the Apostle said: “Marry, that ye may multiply; for I will vaunt you against all other nations on the Day of Resurrection, even in respect of the still-born.” And he said also: “The women who bring the greatest blessing are they who cost least to maintain, whose faces are comeliest, and whose dowries are cheapest.” Marriage is permitted to all men and women, and is obligatory on those who cannot abstain from what is unlawful, and is a sunna (i.e. sanctioned by the custom of the Apostle) for those who are able to support a family. Some of the Ṣúfí Shaykhs hold marriage to be desirable as a means of quelling lust, and acquisition (of sustenance) to be desirable as a means of freeing the mind from anxiety. Others hold that the object of marriage is procreation; for, if the child dies before its father, it will intercede for him (before God), and if the father dies first, the child will remain to pray for him.[[176]] The Apostle said: “Women are married for four things: wealth, nobility, beauty, and religion. Do ye take one that is religious, for, after Islam, there is nothing that profits a man so much as a believing and obedient wife who gladdens him whenever he looks on her.” And the Apostle said: “Satan is with the solitary,” because Satan decks out lust and presents it to their minds. No companionship is equal in reverence and security to marriage, when husband and wife are congenial and well-suited to each other, and no torment and anxiety is so great as an uncongenial wife. Therefore the dervish must, in the first place, consider what he is doing and picture in his mind the evils of celibacy and of marriage, in order that he may choose the state of which he can more easily overcome the evils. The evils of celibacy are two: (1) the neglect of an Apostolic custom, (2) the fostering of lust in the heart and the danger of falling into unlawful ways. The evils of marriage are also two: (1) the preoccupation of the mind with other than God, (2) the distraction of the body for the sake of sensual pleasure. The root of this matter lies in retirement and companionship. Marriage is proper for those who prefer to associate with mankind, and celibacy is an ornament to those who seek retirement from mankind. The Apostle said: “Go: the recluses (al-mufarridún) have preceded you.” And Ḥasan of Baṣra says: “The lightly burdened shall be saved and the heavily laden shall perish.” Ibráhím Khawwáṣ relates the following story: “I went to a certain village to visit a reverend man who lived there. When I entered his house I saw that it was clean, like a saint’s place of worship. In its two corners two niches (miḥráb) had been made; the old man was seated in one of them, and in the other niche an old woman was sitting, clean and bright: both had become weak through much devotion. They showed great joy at my coming, and I stayed with them for three days. When I was about to depart I asked the old man, ‘What relation is this chaste woman to you?’ He answered, ‘She is my cousin and my wife.’ I said, ‘During these three days your intercourse with one another has been very like that of strangers.’ ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘it has been so for five and sixty years.’ I asked him the cause of this. He replied: ‘When we were young we fell in love, but her father would not give her to me, for he had discovered our fondness for each other. I bore this sorrow for a long while, but on her father’s death my father, who was her uncle, gave me her hand. On the wedding-night she said to me: “You know what happiness God has bestowed upon us in bringing us together and taking all fear away from our hearts. Let us therefore to-night refrain from sensual passion and trample on our desires and worship God in thanksgiving for this happiness.” I said, “It is well.” Next night she bade me do the same. On the third night I said, “Now we have given thanks for two nights for your sake; to-night let us worship God for my sake.” Five and sixty years have passed since then, and we have never touched one another, but spend all our lives in giving thanks for our happiness.’” Accordingly, when a dervish chooses companionship, it behoves him to provide his wife with lawful food and pay her dowry out of lawful property, and not indulge in sensual pleasure so long as any obligation towards God, or any part of His commandments, is unfulfilled. And when he performs his devotions and is about to go to bed, let him say, as in secret converse with God: “O Lord God, Thou hast mingled lust with Adam’s clay in order that the world may be populated, and Thou in Thy knowledge hast willed that I should have this intercourse. Cause it to be for the sake of two things: firstly, to guard that which is unlawful by means of that which is lawful; and secondly, vouchsafe to me a child, saintly and acceptable, not one who will divert my thoughts from Thee.” It is related that a son was born to Sahl b. `Abdalláh al-Tustarí. Whenever the child asked his mother for food, she used to bid him ask God, and while he went to the niche (miḥráb) and bowed himself in prayer, she used secretly to give him what he wanted, without letting him know that his mother had given it to him. Thus he grew accustomed to turn unto God. One day he came back from school when his mother was absent, and bowed himself in prayer. God caused the thing that he sought to appear before him. When his mother came in she asked, “Where did you get this?” He answered, “From the place whence it comes always.”
The practice of an Apostolic rule of life must not lead the dervish to seek worldly wealth and unlawful gain or preoccupy his heart, for the dervish is ruined by the destruction of his heart, just as the rich man is ruined by the destruction of his house and furniture; but the rich man can repair his loss, while the dervish cannot. In our time it is impossible for anyone to have a suitable wife, whose wants are not excessive and whose demands are not unreasonable. Therefore many persons have adopted celibacy and observe the Apostolic Tradition: “The best of men in latter days will be those who are light of back,” i.e. who have neither wife nor child. It is the unanimous opinion of the Shaykhs of this sect that the best and most excellent Ṣúfís are the celibates, if their hearts are uncontaminated and if their natures are not inclined to sins and lusts. The vulgar, in gratifying their lusts, appeal to the Apostle’s saying, that the three things he loved in the world were scent, women, and prayer, and argue that since he loved women marriage must be more excellent than celibacy. I reply: “The Apostle also said that he had two trades, namely, poverty (faqr) and the spiritual combat (jihád): why, then, do ye shun these things? If he loved that (viz. marriage), this (viz. celibacy) was his trade. Your desires have a greater propensity to the former, but it is absurd, on that ground, to say that he loves what you desire. Anyone who follows his desires for fifty years and supposes that he is following the practice of the Apostle is in grave error.” A woman was the cause of the first calamity that overtook Adam in Paradise, and also of the first quarrel that happened in this world, i.e. the quarrel of Abel and Cain. A woman was the cause of the punishment inflicted on the two angels (Hárút and Márút); and down to the present day all mischiefs, worldly and religious have been caused by women. After God had preserved me for eleven years from the dangers of matrimony, it was my destiny to fall in love with the description of a woman whom I had never seen, and during a whole year my passion so absorbed me that my religion was near being ruined, until at last God in His bounty gave protection to my wretched heart and mercifully delivered me. In short, Ṣúfiism was founded on celibacy; the introduction of marriage brought about a change. There is no flame of lust that cannot be extinguished by strenuous effort, because, whatever vice proceeds from yourself, you possess the instrument that will remove it: another is not necessary for that purpose. Now the removal of lust may be effected by two things, one of which involves self-constraint (takalluf) while the other lies outside the sphere of human action and mortification. The former is hunger, the latter is an agitating fear or a true love, which is collected by the dispersion of (sensual) thoughts: a love which extends its empire over the different parts of the body and divests all the senses of their sensual quality. Aḥmad Ḥammádí of Sarakhs, who went to Transoxania and lived there, was a venerable man. On being asked whether he desired to marry, he answered: “No, because I am either absent from myself or present with myself: when I am absent, I have no consciousness of the two worlds; and when I am present, I keep my lower soul in such wise that when it gets a loaf of bread it thinks that it has got a thousand houris. It is a great thing to occupy the mind: let it be anxious about whatsoever you will.” Others, again, recommend that neither state (marriage or celibacy) should be regarded with predilection, in order that we may see what the decree of Divine providence will bring to light: if celibacy be our lot, we should strive to be chaste, and if marriage be our destiny, we should comply with the custom of the Apostle and strive to clear our hearts (of worldly anxieties). When God ordains celibacy unto a man, his celibacy should be like that of Joseph, who, although he was able to satisfy his desire for Zulaykhá, turned away from her and busied himself with subduing his passion and considering the vices of his lower soul at the moment when Zulaykhá was alone with him. And if God ordains marriage unto a man, his marriage should be like that of Abraham, who by reason of his absolute confidence in God put aside all care for his wife; and when Sarah became jealous he took Hagar and brought her to a barren valley and committed her to the care of God. Accordingly, a man is not ruined by marriage or by celibacy, but the mischief consists in asserting one’s will and in yielding to one’s desires. The married man ought to observe the following rules. He should not leave any act of devotion undone, or let any “state” be lost or any “time” be wasted. He should be kind to his wife and should provide her with lawful expenses, and he should not pay court to tyrants and governors with the object of meeting her expenses. He should behave thus, in order that, if a child is born, it may be such as it ought to be. A well-known story is told of Aḥmad b. Ḥarb of Níshápúr, that one day, when he was sitting with the chiefs and nobles of Níshápúr who had come to offer their respects to him, his son entered the room, drunk, playing a guitar, and singing, and passed by insolently without heeding them. Aḥmad, perceiving that they were put out of countenance, said: “What is the matter?” They replied: “We are ashamed that this lad should pass by you in such a state.” Aḥmad said: “He is excusable. One night my wife and I partook of some food that was brought to us from a neighbour’s house. That same night this son was begotten, and we fell asleep and let our devotions go. Next morning we inquired of our neighbour as to the source of the food that he had sent to us, and we found that it came from a wedding-feast in the house of a government official.” The following rules should be observed by the celibate. He must not see what is improper to see or think what is improper to think, and he must quench the flames of lust by hunger and guard his heart from this world and from preoccupation with phenomena, and he must not call the desire of his lower soul “knowledge” or “inspiration”, and he must not make the wiles (bu ´l-`ajabí) of Satan a pretext (for sin). If he acts thus he will be approved in Ṣúfiism.
[164]. Kumand, according to Nafaḥát, No. 379.
[165]. “The Rectification of Discipleship.”
[166]. So all the texts, instead of the correct li-ḥuqúq.
[167]. “The Observance of what is due to God.”
[168]. “Rules of Conduct for Disciples.”
[169]. Nafaḥát, No. 129.
[170]. Another reading is asmá, “names,” but I find asmár in the MS. of the Kitáb al-Luma` belonging to Mr. A. G. Ellis, where this passage occurs on f. 63a.
[171]. I. Ibn al-`Alá.
[172]. See Bayḍáwí on Kor. ix, 76.
[173]. Generally known as Majnún, the lover of Laylá. See Brockelmann, i, 48.
[174]. Nafaḥát, No. 578; Ibn Khallikán, No. 230.
[175]. A village, mentioned by Ibn al-Athír (x, 428, 24), in the vicinity of Baghdád.
[176]. Here a story is told of the Caliph `Umar, who asked Umm Kulthúm, the Prophet’s granddaughter, in marriage from her father `Alí.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Uncovering of the Tenth Veil: explaining their phraseology and the definitions of their terms and the verities of the ideas which are signified.
Those employed in every craft and business, while discussing its mysteries with one another, make use of certain words and expressions of which the meaning is known only to themselves. Such expressions are invented for a double purpose: firstly, in order to facilitate the understanding of difficulties and bring them nearer to the comprehension of the novice; and secondly, in order to conceal the mysteries of that science from the uninitiated. The Ṣúfís also have technical terms for the purpose of expressing the matter of their discourse and in order that they may reveal or disguise their meaning as they please. I will now explain some of these terms and distinguish between the significations attached to various pairs of words.
Ḥál and Waqt.
Waqt (time) is a term with which Ṣúfís are familiar, and concerning which much has been said by the Shaykhs, but my object is to establish the truth, not to give long explanations. Waqt is that whereby a man becomes independent of the past and the future, as, for example, when an influence from God descends into his soul and makes his heart collected (mujtami`) he has no memory of the past and no thought of that which is not yet come. All people fail in this, and do not know what our past has been or what our future will be, except the possessors of waqt, who say: “Our knowledge cannot apprehend the future and the past, and we are happy with God in the present (andar waqt). If we occupy ourselves with to-morrow, or let any thought of it enter our minds, we shall be veiled (from God), and a veil is a great distraction (parágandagí).” It is absurd to think of the unattainable. Thus Abú Sa`íd Kharráz says: “Do not occupy your precious time except with the most precious of things, and the most precious of human things is the state of being occupied between the past and the future.” And the Apostle said: “I have a time (waqt) with God, in which none of the cherubim nor any prophet rivals me,” that is to say, “in which the eighteen thousand worlds do not occur to my mind and have no worth in my eyes.” Therefore, on the night of the Ascension, when the kingdom of earth and heaven was arrayed before him in all its beauty, he did not look at anything (Kor. liii, 17), for Muṣṭafá was noble (`azíz), and the noble are not engrossed save by that which is noble. The “times” (awqát) of the Unitarian are two: one in the state of loss (faqd) and one in the state of gain (wajd), one in the place of union and one in the place of separation. At both these times he is overpowered (maqhúr), because both his union and his separation are effected by God without such volition or acquisition on his part as would make it possible to invest him with any attribute. When a man’s power of volition is cut off from him, whatever he does or experiences is the result of “time” (waqt). It is related that Junayd said: ”I saw a dervish in the desert, sitting under a mimosa-tree in a hard and uncomfortable spot, and asked him what made him sit there so still. He answered: ‘I had a “time” and lost it here; now I am sitting and mourning.’ I inquired how long he had been there. He answered: ‘Twelve years. Will not the Shaykh offer up a prayer (himmatí kunad) on my behalf, that perchance I may find my “time” again?’ I left him,” said Junayd, ”and performed the pilgrimage and prayed for him. My prayer was granted. On my return I found him seated in the same place. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘do you not go from here, since you have obtained your wish?’ He replied: ‘O Shaykh, I settled myself in this place of desolation where I lost my capital: is it right that I should leave the place where I have found my capital once more and where I enjoy the society of God? Let the Shaykh go in peace, for I will mix my dust with the dust of this spot, that I may rise at the Resurrection from this dust which is the abode of my delight.’ No man can attain to the reality of “time” by exerting his choice, for “time” is a thing that does not come within the scope of human acquisition, that it should be gained by effort, nor is it sold in the market, that anyone should give his life in exchange for it, and the will has no power either to attract or to repel it. The Shaykhs have said, “Time is a cutting sword,” because it is characteristic of a sword to cut, and “time” cuts the root of the future and the past, and obliterates care of yesterday and to-morrow from the heart. The sword is a dangerous companion: either it makes its master a king or it destroys him. Although one should pay homage to the sword and carry it on one’s own shoulder for a thousand years, in the moment of cutting it does not discriminate between its master’s neck and the neck of another. Violence (qahr) is its characteristic, and violence will not depart from it at the wish of its master.
Ḥál (state) is that which descends upon “time” (waqt) and adorns it, as the spirit adorns the body. Waqt has need of ḥál, for waqt is beautified by ḥál and subsists thereby. When the owner of waqt comes into possession of ḥál, he is no more subject to change and is made steadfast (mustaqím) in his state; for, when he has waqt without ḥál, he may lose it, but when ḥál attaches itself to him, all his state (rúzgár) becomes waqt, and that cannot be lost: what seems to be coming and going (ámad shud) is really the result of becoming and manifestation (takawwun ú ẕuhúr), just as, before this, waqt descended on him who has it. He who is in the state of becoming (mutakawwin) may be forgetful, and on him who is thus forgetful ḥál descends and waqt is made stable (mutamakkin); for the possessor of waqt may become forgetful, but the possessor of ḥál cannot possibly be so. The tongue of the possessor of ḥál is silent concerning his ḥál, but his actions proclaim the reality of his ḥál. Hence that spiritual director said: “To ask about ḥál is absurd,” because ḥál is the annihilation of speech (maqál). Master Abú `Alí Daqqáq says: “If there is joy or woe in this world or the next world, the portion of waqt is that (feeling) in which thou art.” But ḥál is not like this; when ḥál comes on a man from God, it banishes all these feelings from his heart. Thus Jacob was a possessor of waqt: now he was blinded by separation, now he was restored to sight by union, now he was mourning and wailing, now he was calm and joyful. But Abraham was a possessor of ḥál: he was not conscious of separation, that he should be stricken with grief, nor of union, that he should be filled with joy. The sun and moon and stars contributed to his ḥál, but he, while he gazed, was independent of them: whatever he looked on, he saw only God, and he said: “I love not them that set” (Kor. vi, 76). Accordingly, the world sometimes becomes a hell to the possessor of waqt, because he is contemplating absence (ghaybat) and his heart is distressed by the loss of his beloved; and sometimes his heart is like a Paradise in the blessedness of contemplation, and every moment brings to him a gift and a glad message from God. On the other hand, it makes no difference to the possessor of ḥál whether he is veiled by affliction or unveiled by happiness; for he is always in the place of actual vision (`iyán). Ḥál is an attribute of the object desired (murád), while waqt is the rank of the desirer (muríd). The latter is with himself in the pleasure of waqt, the former with God in the delight of ḥál. How far apart are the two degrees!
Maqám and Tamkín, and the difference between them.
Maqám (station) denotes the perseverance of the seeker in fulfilling his obligations towards the object of his search with strenuous exertion and flawless intention. Everyone who desires God has a station (maqám), which, in the beginning of his search, is a means whereby he seeks God. Although the seeker derives some benefit from every station through which he passes, he finally rests in one, because a station and the quest thereof involve contrivance and design (tarkíb ú ḥíla), not conduct and practice (rawish ú mu`ámalat). God hath said: “None of us but hath a certain station” (Kor. xxxvii, 164). The station of Adam was repentance (tawbat), that of Noah was renunciation (zuhd), that of Abraham was resignation (taslím), that of Moses was contrition (inábat), that of David was sorrow (ḥuzn), that of Jesus was hope (rajá), that of John (the Baptist) was fear (khawf), and that of our Apostle was praise (dhikr). They drew something from other sources by which they abode, but each of them returned at last to his original station. In discussing the doctrine of the Muḥásibís, I gave a partial explanation of the stations and distinguished between ḥál and maqám. Here, however, it is necessary to make some further remarks on this subject. You must know that the Way to God is of three kinds: (1) maqám, (2) ḥál, (3) tamkín. God sent all the prophets to explain the Way and to elucidate the principle of the different stations. One hundred and twenty-four thousand apostles, and a few over that number, came with as many stations. On the advent of our Apostle a ḥál appeared to those in each station and attained a pitch where all human acquisition was left behind, until religion was made perfect unto men, as God hath said: “To-day I have perfected your religion for you and have completed My bounty unto you” (Kor. v, 5); then the tamkín (steadfastness) of the steadfast appeared; but if I were to enumerate every ḥál and explain every maqám, my purpose would be defeated.
Tamkín denotes the residence of spiritual adepts in the abode of perfection and in the highest grade. Those in stations can pass on from their stations, but it is impossible to pass beyond the grade of tamkín, because maqám is the grade of beginners, whereas tamkín is the resting-place of adepts, and maqámát (stations) are stages on the way, whereas tamkín is repose within the shrine. The friends of God are absent (from themselves) on the way and are strangers (to themselves) in the stages: their hearts are in the presence (of God), and in the presence every instrument is evil and every tool is (a token of) absence (from God) and infirmity. In the epoch of Paganism the poets used to praise men for noble deeds, but they did not recite their panegyric until some time had elapsed. When a poet came into the presence of the person whom he had celebrated, he used to draw his sword and hamstring his camel and then break his sword, as though to say: “I needed a camel to bring me from a far distance to thy presence, and a sword to repel the envious who would have hindered me from paying homage to thee: now that I have reached thee, I kill my camel, for I will never depart from thee again; and I break my sword, for I will not admit into my mind the thought of being severed from thy court.” Then, after a few days, he used to recite his poem. Similarly, when Moses attained to tamkín, God bade him put off his shoes and cast away his staff (Kor. xx, 12), these being articles of travel and Moses being in the presence of God. The beginning of love is search, but the end is rest: water flows in the river-bed, but when it reaches the ocean it ceases to flow and changes its taste, so that those who desire water avoid it, but those who desire pearls devote themselves to death and fasten the plummet of search to their feet and plunge headlong into the sea, that they may either gain the hidden pearl or lose their dear lives. And one of the Shaykhs says: “Tamkín is the removal of talwín.” Talwín also is a technical term of the Ṣúfís, and is closely connected in meaning with tamkín, just as ḥál is connected with maqám. The signification of talwín is change and turning from one state to another, and the above-mentioned saying means that he who is steadfast (mutamakkin) is not vacillating (mutaraddid), for he has carried all that belongs to him into the presence of God and has erased every thought of other than God from his mind, so that no act that passes over him alters his outward predicament and no state changes his inward predicament. Thus Moses was subject to talwín: he fell in a swoon (Kor. vii, 139) when God revealed His glory to Mount Sinai; but Muḥammad was steadfast: he suffered no change, although he was in the very revelation of glory from Mecca to a space of two bow-lengths from God; and this is the highest grade. Now tamkín is of two kinds—one referring to the dominant influence of God (sháhid-i ḥaqq), and the other referring to the dominant influence of one’s self (sháhid-i khud). He whose tamkín is of the latter kind retains his attributes unimpaired, but he whose tamkín is of the former kind has no attributes; and the terms effacement (maḥw), sobriety (ṣaḥw), attainment (laḥq), destruction (maḥq),[[177]] annihilation (faná), subsistence (baqá), being (wujúd), and not-being (`adam) are not properly applied to one whose attributes are annihilated, because a subject is necessary for the maintenance of these qualities, and when the subject is absorbed (mustaghriq) he loses the capacity for maintaining them.
Muḥáḍarat and Mukáshafat, and the difference between them.
Muḥáḍarat denotes the presence of the heart in the subtleties of demonstration (bayán), while mukáshafat denotes the presence of the spirit (sirr) in the domain of actual vision (`iyán). Muḥáḍarat refers to the evidences of God’s signs (áyát), and mukáshafat to the evidences of contemplation (musháhadát). The mark of muḥáḍarat is continual meditation upon God’s signs, while the mark of mukáshafat is continual amazement at God’s infinite greatness. There is a difference between one who meditates upon the Divine acts and one who is amazed at the Divine majesty: the one is a follower of friendship, the other is a companion of love. When the Friend of God (Abraham) looked on the kingdom of heaven and meditated on the reality of its existence, his heart was made “present” (ḥáḍir) thereby: through beholding the act he became a seeker of the Agent; his “presence” (ḥuḍúr) made the act a proof of the Agent, and in perfect gnosis he exclaimed: “I turn my face with true belief unto Him who created the heavens and the earth” (Kor. vi, 79). But when the Beloved of God (Muḥammad) was borne to Heaven he shut his eyes from the sight of all things; he saw neither God’s act nor created beings nor himself, but the Agent was revealed to him, and in that revelation (kashf) his desire increased: in vain he sought vision, proximity, union; in proportion as the exemption (tanzíh) of his Beloved (from all such conceptions) became more manifest to him the more did his desire increase; he could neither turn back nor go forward, hence he fell into amazement. Where friendship was, amazement seemed infidelity, but where love was, union was polytheism, and amazement became the sole resource, because in friendship the object of amazement was being (hastí), and such amazement is polytheism, but in love the object of amazement was nature and quality (chigúnagí), and this amazement is unification (tawḥíd). In this sense Shiblí used always to say: “O Guide of the amazed, increase my amazement!” for in contemplation (of God) the greater one’s amazement the higher one’s degree. The story of Abú Sa`íd Kharráz and Ibráhím b. Sa`d `Alawí[[178]] is well known—how they saw a friend of God on the seashore and asked him “What is the Way to God?” and how he answered that there are two ways to God, one for the vulgar and one for the elect. When they desired him to explain this he said: “The way of the vulgar is that on which you are going: you accept for some cause and you decline for some cause; but the way of the elect is to see only the Causer, and not to see the cause.” The true meaning of these anecdotes has already been set forth.
Qabḍ and Basṭ, and the difference between them.
Qabḍ (contraction) and basṭ (expansion) are two involuntary states which cannot be induced by any human act or banished by any human exertion. God hath said: “God contracts and expands” (Kor. ii, 246). Qabḍ denotes the contraction of the heart in the state of being veiled (ḥijáb), and basṭ denotes the expansion of the heart in the state of revelation (kashf). Both states proceed from God without effort on the part of Man. The qabḍ of gnostics is like the fear of novices, and the basṭ of gnostics is like the hope of novices. This is the sense in which the Ṣúfís use the terms qabḍ and basṭ. Some Shaykhs hold that qabḍ is superior in degree to basṭ, for two reasons: (1) it is mentioned before basṭ in the Koran, (2) qabḍ involves dissolution and oppression, whereas basṭ involves nutrition and favour: it is undoubtedly better to dissolve one’s humanity and oppress one’s lower soul than to foster and favour them, since they are the greatest veil (between Man and God). Others, again, hold that basṭ is superior to qabḍ. The fact, they say, that qabḍ is mentioned before basṭ in the Koran shows the superiority of basṭ, for the Arabs are accustomed to mention in the first place that which is inferior in merit, e.g. God hath said: “There is one of them who injures his own soul, and one who keeps the middle way, and one who outstrips the others in good works by the permission of God” (Kor. xxxv, 29). Moreover, they argue that in basṭ there is joy and in qabḍ grief; gnostics feel joy only in union with the object of knowledge, and grief only in separation from the object of desire, therefore rest in the abode of union is better than rest in the abode of separation. My Shaykh used to say that both qabḍ and basṭ are the result of one spiritual influence, which descends from God on Man, and either fills the heart with joy and subdues the lower soul or subdues the heart and fills the lower soul with joy; in the latter case contraction (qabḍ) of the heart is expansion (basṭ) of the lower soul, and in the former case expansion of the heart is contraction of the lower soul. He who interprets this matter otherwise is wasting his breath. Hence Báyazíd said: “The contraction of hearts consists in the expansion of souls, and the expansion of hearts in the contraction of souls.” The contracted soul is guarded from injury, and the expanded heart is restrained from falling into defect, because jealousy is the rule in love, and contraction is a sign of God’s jealousy; and it is necessary that lovers should reproach one another, and expansion is a sign of mutual reproach. It is a well-known tradition that John wept ever since he was born, while Jesus smiled ever since he was born, because John was in contraction and Jesus in expansion. When they met John used to say, “O Jesus, hast thou no fear of being cut off (from God)?” and Jesus used to say, “O John, hast thou no hope of God’s mercy? Neither thy tears nor my smiles will change the eternal decree of God.”
Uns and Haybat, and the difference between them.
Uns (intimacy) and haybat (awe) are two states of the dervishes who travel on the Way to God. When God manifests His glory to a man’s heart so that His majesty (jalál) predominates, he feels awe (haybat), but when God’s beauty (jamál) predominates he feels intimacy (uns): those who feel awe are distressed, while those who feel intimacy are rejoiced. There is a difference between one who is burned by His majesty in the fire of love and one who is illuminated by His beauty in the light of contemplation. Some Shaykhs have said that haybat is the degree of gnostics and uns the degree of novices, because the farther one has advanced in the presence of God and in divesting Him of attributes the more his heart is overwhelmed with awe and the more averse he is to intimacy, for one is intimate with those of one’s own kind, and intimacy with God is inconceivable, since no homogeneity or resemblance can possibly exist between God and Man. If intimacy is possible, it is possible only with the praise (dhikr) of Him, which is something different from Himself, because that is an attribute of Man; and in love, to be satisfied with another than the Beloved is falsehood and pretension and self-conceit. Haybat, on the other hand, arises from contemplating greatness, which is an attribute of God, and there is a vast difference between one whose experience proceeds from himself through himself and one whose experience proceeds from the annihilation of himself through the subsistence of God. It is related that Shiblí said: “For a long time I used to think that I was rejoicing in the love of God and was intimate with contemplation of Him: now I know that intimacy is impossible except with a congener.” Some, however, allege that haybat is a corollary of separation and punishment, while uns is the result of union and mercy; therefore the friends of God must be guarded from the consequences of haybat and be attached to uns, for uns involves love, and as homogeneity is impossible in love (of God), so it is impossible in uns. My Shaykh used to say: ”I wonder at those who declare intimacy with God to be impossible, after God has said, ‘Verily My servants,’ and ‘Say to My servants’, and ‘When My servants shall ask thee’, and ‘O My servants, no fear shall come on you this day, and ye shall not grieve’ (Kor. xliii, 68). A servant of God, seeing this favour, cannot fail to love Him, and when he has loved he will become intimate, because awe of one’s beloved is estrangement (bégánagí), whereas intimacy is oneness (yagánagí). It is characteristic of men to become intimate with their benefactors, and inasmuch as God has conferred on us so great benefits and we have knowledge of Him, it is impossible that we should talk of awe.” I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, say that both parties in this controversy are right, because the power of haybat is exerted upon the lower soul and its desires, and tends to annihilate human nature, while the power of uns is exerted upon the heart and tends to foster gnosis in the heart. Therefore God annihilates the souls of those who love Him by revealing His majesty and endows their hearts with everlasting life by revealing His beauty. The followers of annihilation (faná) regard haybat as superior, but the followers of subsistence (baqá) prefer uns.
Qahr and Luṭf, and the difference between them.
These two expressions are used by the Ṣúfís in reference to their own state. By qahr (violence) they signify the reinforcement given to them by God in annihilating their desires and in restraining the lower soul from its concupiscence; and by luṭf (kindness) they signify God’s help towards the subsistence of their hearts and towards the continuance of contemplation and towards the permanence of ecstasy in the degree of steadfastness (istiqámat). The adherents of luṭf say Divine grace (karámat) is the attainment of one’s desire, but the others say that Divine grace is this—that God through His will should restrain a man from his own will and should overpower him with will-lessness (bémurádí), so that if he were thirsty and plunged into a river, the river would become dry. It is related that in Baghdád were two eminent dervishes, the one a believer in qahr and the other a believer in luṭf, who were always quarrelling and each preferring his own state to that of his neighbour. The dervish who preferred luṭf set out for Mecca and entered the desert, but never reached his destination. No news of him was heard for many years, but at last he was seen by a traveller on the road between Mecca and Baghdád. “O my brother,” he said, “when you return to `Iráq tell my friend at Karkh that if he wishes to see a desert, with all its hardships, like Karkh of Baghdád, with all its marvels, let him come here, for this desert is Karkh to me!” When the traveller arrived at Karkh he delivered this message to the other dervish, who said: “On your return, tell him that there is no superiority in the fact that the desert has been made like Karkh to him, in order that he may not flee from the court (of God); the superiority lies in the fact that Karkh, with all its wondrous opulence, has been made to me like a painful desert, and that nevertheless I am happy here.” And it is related that Shiblí said, in his secret converse with God: “O Lord, I will not turn from Thee, although Thou shouldst make the heaven a collar for my neck and the earth a shackle for my foot and the whole universe athirst for my blood.” My Shaykh used to say: “One year a meeting of the saints of God took place in the midst of the desert, and I accompanied my spiritual director, Ḥuṣrí, to that spot. I saw some of them approaching on camels, some borne on thrones, and some flying, but Ḥuṣrí paid no heed to them. Then I saw a youth with torn shoes and a broken staff. His feet could scarcely support him, and his head was bare and his body emaciated. As soon as he appeared Ḥuṣrí sprang up and ran to meet him and led him to a lofty seat. This astonished me, and afterwards I questioned the Shaykh about the youth. He replied: ‘He is one of God’s saints who does not follow saintship, but saintship follows him; and he pays no attention to miracles (karámát).’” In short, what we choose for ourselves is noxious to us. I desire only that God should desire for me, and therein preserve me from the evil thereof and save me from the wickedness of my soul. If He keep me in qahr I do not wish for luṭf, and if He keep me in luṭf I do not wish for qahr. I have no choice beyond His choice.
Nafy and Ithbát, and the difference between them.
The Shaykhs of this Path give the names of nafy (negation) and ithbát (affirmation) to the effacement of the attributes of humanity by the affirmation of Divine aid (ta´yíd). By negation they signify the negation of the attributes of humanity, and by affirmation they mean the affirmation of the power of the Truth, because effacement (maḥw) is total loss, and total negation is applicable only to the attributes; for negation of the essence is impossible while the Universal (kulliyyat) subsists. It is necessary, therefore, that blameworthy attributes should be negated by the affirmation of praiseworthy qualities, i.e. the pretension to love of God is negated by affirmation of the reality, for pretension is one of the vanities of the lower soul. But the Ṣúfís, when their attributes are overpowered by the might of the Truth, habitually say that the attributes of humanity are negated by affirming the subsistence of God. This matter has already been discussed in the chapter on poverty and purity and in that on annihilation and subsistence. They say also that the words in question signify the negation of Man’s choice by the affirmation of God’s choice. Hence that blessed one said: “God’s choice for His servant with His knowledge of His servant is better than His servant’s choice for himself with his ignorance of his Lord,” because love, as all agree, is the negation of the lover’s choice by affirmation of the Beloved’s choice. I have read in the Anecdotes that a dervish was drowning in the sea, when some one cried: “Brother, do you wish to be saved?” He said: “No.” “Then do you wish to be drowned?” “No.” “It is a wonder that you will not choose either to die or to be saved.” “What have I to do with safety,” said the dervish, “that I should choose it? My choice is that God should choose for me.” The Shaykhs have said that negation of one’s own choice is the least grade in love. Now, God’s choice has no beginning in time and cannot possibly be negated, but Man’s choice is accidental (`araḍí) and admits of negation, and must be trodden under foot, that the eternal choice of God may subsist for ever.[[179]] There has been much debate on this matter, but my sole aim is that you should know the signification of the terms used by the Ṣúfís. I have mentioned some of these, e.g., jam` and tafriqa, and faná and baqá, and ghaybat and ḥuḍúr, and sukr and ṣaḥw, in the chapter treating of the doctrines of the Ṣúfís, and you must look there for the explanation of them.
Musámarat and Muḥádathat, and the difference between them.
These terms denote two states of the perfect Ṣúfí. Muḥádathat (conversation) is really spiritual talk conjoined with silence of the tongue, and musámarat (nocturnal discourse) is really continuance of unrestraint (inbisáṭ) combined with concealment of the most secret thoughts (kitmán-i sirr). The outward meaning of musámarat is a spiritual state (waqtí) existing between God and Man at night, and muḥádathat is a similar state, existing by day, in which there is exoteric and esoteric conversation. Hence secret prayers (munáját) by night are called musámarat, while invocations made by day are called muḥádathat. The daily state is based on revelation (kashf), and the nightly state on occupation (satr). In love musámarat is more perfect than muḥádathat, and is connected with the state of the Apostle, when God sent Gabriel to him with Buráq and conveyed him by night from Mecca to a space of two bow-lengths from His presence. The Apostle conversed secretly with God, and when he reached the goal his tongue became dumb before the revelation of God’s majesty, and his heart was amazed at His infinite greatness, and he said: “I cannot tell Thy praise.” Muḥádathat is connected with the state of Moses, who, seeking communion with God, after forty days came to Mount Sinai and heard the speech of God and asked for vision of Him, and failed of his desire. There is a plain difference between one who was conducted (Kor. xvii, 1) and one who came (Kor. vii, 139). Night is the time when lovers are alone with each other, and day is the time when servants wait upon their masters. When a servant transgresses he is reprimanded, but a lover has no law by the transgression of which he should incur blame, for lovers cannot do anything displeasing to each other.
`Ilm al-Yaqín and `Ayn al-Yaqín and Ḥaqq al-Yaqín, and the difference between them.
According to the principles of theology, all these expressions denote knowledge (`ilm). Knowledge without certain faith (yaqín) in the reality of the object known is not knowledge, but when knowledge is gained that which is hidden is as that which is actually seen. The believers who shall see God on the Day of Judgment shall see Him then in the same wise as they know Him now: if they shall see Him otherwise, either their vision will be imperfect then or their knowledge is faulty now. Both these alternatives are in contradiction with unification (tawḥíd), which requires that men’s knowledge of God should be sound to-day and their vision of God should be sound to-morrow. Therefore certain knowledge (`ilm-i yaqín) is like certain sight (`ayn-i yaqín), and certain truth (ḥaqq-i yaqín) is like certain knowledge. Some have said that `ayn al-yaqín is the complete absorption (istighráq) of knowledge in vision, but this is impossible, because vision is an instrument for the attainment of knowledge, like hearing, etc.: since knowledge cannot be absorbed in hearing, its absorption in vision is equally impossible. By `ilm al-yaqín the Ṣúfís mean knowledge of (religious) practice in this world according to the Divine commandments; by `ayn al-yaqín they mean knowledge of the state of dying (naz`) and the time of departure from this world; and by ḥaqq al-yaqín they mean intuitive knowledge of the vision (of God) that will be revealed in Paradise, and of its nature. Therefore `ilm al-yaqín is the rank of theologians (`ulamá) on account of their correct observance of the Divine commands, and `ayn al-yaqín is the station of gnostics (`árifán) on account of their readiness for death, and ḥaqq al-yaqín is the annihilation-point of lovers (dústán) on account of their rejection of all created things. Hence `ilm al-yaqín is obtained by self-mortification (mujáhadat), and `ayn al-yaqín by intimate familiarity (mu´ánasat), and ḥaqq al-yaqín by contemplation (musháhadat). The first is vulgar, the second is elect, and the third is super-elect (kháṣṣ al-kháṣṣ).
`Ilm and Ma`rifat, and the difference between them.
Theologians have made no distinction between `ilm and ma`rifat, except when they say that God may be called `álim (knowing), but not `árif (gnostic), inasmuch as the latter epithet lacks Divine blessing. But the Ṣúfí Shaykhs give the name of ma`rifat (gnosis) to every knowledge that is allied with (religious) practice and feeling (ḥál), and the knower of which expresses his feeling; and the knower thereof they call `árif. On the other hand, they give the name of `ilm to every knowledge that is stripped of spiritual meaning and devoid of religious practice, and one who has such knowledge they call `álim. One, then, who knows the meaning and reality of a thing they call `árif (gnostic), and one who knows merely the verbal expression and keeps it in his memory without keeping the spiritual reality they call `álim. For this reason, when the Ṣúfís wish to disparage a rival they call him dánishmand (possessing knowledge). To the vulgar this seems objectionable, but the Ṣúfís do not intend to blame the man for having acquired knowledge, they blame him for neglecting the practice of religion, because the `álim depends on himself, but the `árif depends on his Lord. This question has been discussed at length in the chapter entitled “The Removal of the Veil of Gnosis”, and I need not say any more now.
Sharí`at and Ḥaqíqat, and the difference between them.
These terms are used by the Ṣúfís to denote soundness of the outward state and maintenance of the inward state. Two parties err in this matter: firstly, the formal theologians, who assert that there is no distinction between sharí`at (law) and ḥaqíqat (truth), since the Law is the Truth and the Truth is the Law; secondly, some heretics, who hold that it is possible for one of these things to subsist without the other, and declare that when the Truth is revealed the Law is abolished. This is the doctrine of the Carmathians (Qarámiṭa) and the Shí`ites and their satanically inspired followers (muwaswisán). The proof that the Law is virtually separate from the Truth lies in the fact that in faith belief is separate from profession; and the proof that the Law and the Truth are not fundamentally separate, but are one, lies in the fact that belief without profession is not faith, and conversely profession without belief is not faith; and there is a manifest difference between profession and belief. Ḥaqíqat, then, signifies a reality which does not admit of abrogation and remains in equal force from the time of Adam to the end of the world, like knowledge of God and like religious practice, which is made perfect by sincere intention; and sharí`at signifies a reality which admits of abrogation and alteration, like ordinances and commandments. Therefore sharí`at is Man’s act, while ḥaqíqat is God’s keeping and preservation and protection, whence it follows that sharí`at cannot possibly be maintained without the existence of ḥaqíqat, and ḥaqíqat cannot be maintained without observance of sharí`at. Their mutual relation may be compared to that of body and spirit: when the spirit departs from the body the living body becomes a corpse and the spirit vanishes like wind, for their value depends on their conjunction with one another. Similarly, the Law without the Truth is ostentation, and the Truth without the Law is hypocrisy. God hath said: “Whosoever mortify themselves for Our sake, We will assuredly guide them in Our ways” (Kor. xxix, 69): mortification is Law, guidance is Truth; the former consists in a man’s observance of the external ordinances, while the latter consists in God’s maintenance of a man’s spiritual feelings. Hence the Law is one of the acts acquired by Man, but the Truth is one of the gifts bestowed by God.
Another class of terms and expressions are used by the Ṣúfís metaphorically. These metaphorical terms are more difficult to analyse and interpret, but I will explain them concisely.
Ḥaqq. By ḥaqq (truth) the Ṣúfís mean God, for ḥaqq is one of the names of God, as He hath said: “This is because God is the Truth” (Kor. xxii, 6).
Ḥaqíqat. By this word they mean a man’s dwelling in the place of union with God, and the standing of his heart in the place of abstraction (tanzíh).
Khaṭarát. Any judgments of separation (aḥkám-i tafríq) that occur to the mind.
Waṭanát. Any Divine meanings that make their abode in the heart.
Ṭams. Negation of a substance of which some trace is left.
Rams. Negation of a substance, together with every trace thereof, from the heart.
`Alá´iq. Secondary causes to which seekers of God attach themselves and thereby fail to gain the object of their desire.
Wasá´iṭ. Secondary causes to which seekers of God attach themselves and thereby gain the object of their desire.
Zawá´id. Excess of lights (spiritual illumination) in the heart.
Fawá´id. The apprehension by the spirit of what it cannot do without.
Malja´. The heart’s confidence in the attainment of its desire.
Manjá. The heart’s escape from the place of imperfection.
Kulliyyat. The absorption (istighráq) of the attributes of humanity in the Universal (kulliyyat).
Lawá´iḥ. Affirmation of the object of desire, notwithstanding the advent of the negation thereof (ithbát-i murád bá wurúd-i nafy-i án).
Lawámi`. The manifestation of (spiritual) light to the heart while its acquirements (fawá´id) continue to subsist.
Ṭawáli`. The appearance of the splendours of (mystical) knowledge to the heart.
Ṭawáriq. That which comes into the heart, either with glad tidings or with rebuke, in secret converse (with God) at night.
Laṭá´if. A symbol (isháratí), presented to the heart, of subtleties of feeling.
Sirr. Concealment of feelings of love.
Najwá. Concealment of imperfections from the knowledge of other (than God).
Ishárat. Giving information to another of the object of desire, without uttering it on the tongue.
Ímá. Addressing anyone allusively, without spoken or unspoken explanation (bé `ibárat ú ishárat).
Wárid. The descent of spiritual meanings upon the heart.
Intibáh. The departure of heedlessness from the heart.
Ishtibáh. Perplexity felt in deciding between truth and falsehood.
Qarár. The departure of vacillation from the reality of one’s feeling.
Inzi`áj. The agitation of the heart in the state of ecstasy (wajd).
Another class of technical terms are those which the Ṣúfís employ, without metaphor, in unification (tawḥíd) and in setting forth their firm belief in spiritual realities.
`Álam. The term `álam (world) denotes the creatures of God. It is said that there are 18,000 or 50,000 worlds. Philosophers say there are two worlds, an upper and a lower, while theologians say that `álam is whatever exists between the Throne of God and the earth. In short, `álam is the collective mass of created things. The Ṣúfís speak of the world of spirits (arwáḥ) and the world of souls (nufús), but they do not mean the same thing as the philosophers. What they mean is “the collective mass of spirits and souls”.
Muḥdath. Posterior in existence, i.e. it was not and afterwards was.
Qadím. Anterior in existence, i.e. it always was, and its being was anterior to all beings. This is nothing but God.
Azal. That which has no beginning.
Abad. That which has no end.
Dhát. The being and reality of a thing.
Ṣifat. That which does not admit of qualification (na`t), because it is not self-subsistent.
Ism. That which is not the object named (ghayr-i musammá).
Tasmiyat. Information concerning the object named.
Nafy. That which entails the non-existence of every object of negation.
Ithbát. That which entails the existence of every object of affirmation.
Siyyán. The possibility of the existence of one thing with another.
Ḍiddán. The impossibility of the existence of one thing simultaneously with the existence of another.
Ghayrán. The possibility of the existence of either of two things, notwithstanding the annihilation of the other.
Jawhar. The basis (aṣl) of a thing; that which is self-subsistent.
`Araḍ. That which subsists in jawhar (substance).
Jism. That which is composed of separate parts.
Su´ál. Seeking a reality.
Jawáb. Giving information concerning the subject-matter of a question (su´ál).
Ḥusn. That which is conformable to the (Divine) command.
Qubḥ. That which is not conformable to the (Divine) command.
Safah. Neglect of the (Divine) command.
Ẓulm. Putting a thing in a place that is not worthy of it.
`Adl. Putting everything in its proper place.
Malik. He with whose actions it is impossible to interfere.
Another class of terms requiring explanation are those which are commonly used by the Ṣúfís in a mystical sense that is not familiar to philologists.
Kháṭir. By kháṭir (passing thought) the Ṣúfís signify the occurrence in the mind of something which is quickly removed by another thought, and which its owner is able to repel from his mind. Those who have such thoughts follow the first thought in matters which come directly from God to Man. It is said that the thought occurred to Khayr Nassáj that Junayd was waiting at his door, but he wished to repel it. The same thought returned twice and thrice, whereupon he went out and discovered Junayd, who said to him: “If you had followed the first thought it would not have been necessary for me to stand here all this time.” How was Junayd acquainted with the thought which occurred to Khayr? This question has been asked, and has been answered by the remark that Junayd was Khayr’s spiritual director, and a spiritual director cannot fail to be acquainted with all that happens to one of his disciples.
Wáqi`a. By wáqi`a they signify a thought which appears in the mind and remains there, unlike kháṭir, and which the seeker has no means whatever of repelling: thus they say, khaṭara `alá qalbí, “it occurred to my mind,” but waqa`a fí qalbí, “it sank into my mind.” All minds are subject to kháṭir (passing thought), but wáqi`a is possible only in a mind that is entirely filled with the notion of God. Hence, when any obstacle appears to the novice on the Way to God, they call it “a fetter” (qayd) and say: “A wáqi`a has befallen him.” Philologists also use the term wáqi`a to signify any difficult question, and when it is answered satisfactorily they say, wáqi`a ḥall shud, “the difficulty is solved.” But the mystics say that wáqi`a is that which is insoluble, and that whatever is solved is a kháṭir, not a wáqi`a, since the obstacles which confront mystics are not unimportant matters on which varying judgments are continually being formed.
Ikhtiyár. By ikhtiyár they signify their preference of God’s choice to their own, i.e. they are content with the good and evil which God has chosen for them. A man’s preference of God’s choice is itself the result of God’s choice, for unless God had caused him to have no choice, he would never have let his own choice go. When Abú Yazíd was asked, “Who is the prince (amír)?” he replied, “He to whom no choice is left, and to whom God’s choice has become the only choice.” It is related that Junayd, having caught fever, implored God to give him health. A voice spoke in his heart: “Who art thou to plead in My kingdom and make a choice? I can manage My kingdom better than thou. Do thou choose My choice instead of coming forward with thine.”
Imtiḥán. By this expression they signify the probation of the hearts of the saints by diverse afflictions which come to them from God, such as fear, grief, contraction, awe, etc. God hath said: “They whose hearts God hath proved for piety’s sake: they shall win pardon and a great reward” (Kor. xlix, 3). This is a lofty grade.
Balá. By balá (affliction) they signify the probation of the bodies of God’s friends by diverse troubles and sicknesses and tribulations. The more severely a man is afflicted the nearer does he approach unto God, for affliction is the vesture of the saints and the cradle of the pure and the nourishment of the prophets. The Apostle said, “We prophets are the most afflicted of mankind;” and he also said, “The prophets are the most afflicted of mankind, then the saints, and then other men according to their respective ranks.” Balá is the name of a tribulation, which descends on the heart and body of a true believer and which is really a blessing; and inasmuch as the mystery thereof is concealed from him, he is divinely recompensed for supporting the pains thereof. Tribulation that befalls unbelievers is not affliction (balá), but misery (shaqáwat), and unbelievers never obtain relief from misery. The degree of balá is more honourable than that of imtiḥán, for imtiḥán affects the heart only, whereas balá affects both the heart and the body and is thus more powerful.
Taḥallí. Imitation of praiseworthy people in word and deed. The Apostle said: “Faith is not acquired by taḥallí (adorning one’s self with the qualities of others) and tamanní (wishing), but it is that which sinks deep into the heart and is verified by action.” Taḥallí, then, is to imitate people without really acting like them. Those who seem to be what they are not will soon be put to shame, and their secret character will be revealed. In the view of spiritualists, however, they are already disgraced and their secret character is clear.
Tajallí. The blessed effect of Divine illumination on the hearts of the blest, whereby they are made capable of seeing God with their hearts. The difference between spiritual vision (ru´yat ba-dil) and actual vision (ru´yat-i `iyán) is this, that those who experience tajallí (manifestation of God) see or do not see, according as they wish, or see at one time and do not see at another time, while those who experience actual vision in Paradise cannot but see, even though they wish not to see; for it is possible that tajallí should be hidden, whereas ru´yat (vision) cannot possibly be veiled.
Takhallí. Turning away from distractions which prevent a man from attaining to God. One of these is the present world, of which he should empty his hands; another is desire for the next world, of which he should empty his heart; a third is indulgence in vanity, of which he should empty his spirit; and a fourth is association with created beings, of which he should empty himself and from the thought of which he should disengage his mind.
Shurúd. The meaning of shurúd is “seeking restlessly to escape from (worldly) corruptions and veils”; for all the misfortunes of the seeker arise from his being veiled, and when the veil is lifted he becomes united with God. The Ṣúfís apply the term shurúd to his becoming unveiled (isfár) and his using every resource for that purpose; for in the beginning, i.e. in search, he is more restless; in the end, i.e. in union, he becomes more steadfast.
Quṣúd. By quṣúd (aims) they signify perfect resolution to seek the reality of the object of search. The aims of the Ṣúfís do not depend on motion and rest, because the lover, although he be at rest in love, is still pursuing an aim (qáṣid). In this respect the Ṣúfís differ from ordinary men, whose aims produce in them some effect outwardly or inwardly; whereas the lovers of God seek Him without any cause and pursue their aim without movement of their own, and all their qualities are directed towards that goal. Where love exists, all is an aim.
Iṣṭiná`. By this term they mean that God makes a man faultless through the annihilation of all his selfish interests and sensual pleasures, and transforms in him the attributes of his lower soul, so that he becomes selfless. This degree belongs exclusively to the prophets, but some Shaykhs hold that it may be attained by the saints also.
Iṣṭifá. This signifies that God makes a man’s heart empty to receive the knowledge of Himself, so that His knowledge (ma`rifat) diffuses its purity through his heart. In this degree all believers, the vulgar as well as the elect, are alike, whether they are sinful or pious or saints or prophets, for God hath said: “We have given the Book as a heritage unto those of our servants whom We have chosen (iṣṭafayná): some of them are they who injure their own souls; some are they who keep the mean; and some are they who excel in good works” (Kor. xxxv, 29).
Iṣṭilám. The manifestations (tajalliyát) of God which cause a man to be entirely overpowered by a merciful probation (imtiḥán), while his will is reduced to naught. Qalb-i mumtaḥan, “a proved heart,” and qalb-i muṣṭalam, “a destroyed heart,” bear the same meaning, although in the current usage of Ṣúfí phraseology iṣṭilám is more particular and exquisite than imtiḥán.
Rayn. A veil on the heart, i.e. the veil of infidelity and error, which cannot be removed except by faith. God hath said, describing the hearts of the unbelievers (Kor. lxxxiii, 14): “By no means, but what they used to do hath covered their hearts” (rána `alá qulúbihim). Some have said that rayn cannot possibly be removed in any manner, since the hearts of unbelievers are not capable of receiving Islam, and those who do receive it must have been, in the foreknowledge of God, true believers.
Ghayn. A veil on the heart which is removed by asking pardon of God. It may be either thin or dense. The latter is for those who forget (God) and commit great sins; the former is for all, not excepting saint or prophet. Did not the Apostle say, “Verily, my heart is obscured (yughánu `alá qalbí), and verily I ask pardon of God a hundred times every day.” For removing the dense veil a proper repentance is necessary, and for removing the thin veil a sincere return to God. Repentance (tawbat) is a turning back from disobedience to obedience, and return (rujú`) is a turning back from self to God. Repentance is repentance from sin: the sin of common men is opposition to God’s command, while the sin of lovers (of God) is opposition to God’s will: therefore, the sin of common men is disobedience, and that of lovers is consciousness of their own existence. If anyone turns back from wrong to right, they say, “He is repentant (tá´ib);” but if anyone turns back from what is right to what is more right, they say, “He is returning (á´ib).“ All this I have set forth in the chapter on repentance.
Talbís. They denote by talbís the appearance of a thing when its appearance is contrary to its reality, as God hath said: ”We should assuredly have deceived them (lalabasná `alayhim) as they deceive others” (Kor. vi, 9). This quality of deception cannot possibly belong to anyone except God, who shows the unbeliever in the guise of a believer and the believer in the guise of an unbeliever, until the time shall come for the manifestation of His decree and of the reality in every case. When a Ṣúfí conceals good qualities under a mask of bad, they say: “He is practising deception (talbís),” but they use this term in such instances only, and do not apply it to ostentation and hypocrisy, which are fundamentally talbís, because talbís is not used except in reference to an act performed by God.
Shurb. The Ṣúfís call the sweetness of piety and the delight of miraculous grace and the pleasure of intimacy shurb (drinking); and they can do nothing without the delight of shurb. As the body’s drink is of water, so the heart’s drink is of (spiritual) pleasure and sweetness. My Shaykh used to say that a novice without shurb is a stranger to (i.e. unacquainted with the duties of) the novitiate, and that a gnostic with shurb is a stranger to gnosis, because the novice must derive some pleasure (shurbí) from his actions in order that he may fulfil the obligations of a novice who is seeking God; but the gnostic ought not to feel such pleasure, lest he should be transported with that pleasure instead of with God: if he turn back to his lower soul he will not rest (with God).
Dhawq. Dhawq resembles shurb, but shurb is used solely in reference to pleasures, whereas dhawq is applied to pleasure and pain alike. One says dhuqtu ´l-ḥaláwat, “I tasted sweetness,” and dhuqtu ´l-balá, “I tasted affliction;” but of shurb they say, sharibtu bi-ka´si ´l-waṣl, “I drank the cup of union,” and sharibtu bi-ka´si ´l-wudd, “I drank the cup of love,” and so forth.[[180]]
[177]. Maḥq denotes annihilation of a man’s being in the essence of God, while maḥw denotes annihilation of his actions in the action of God (Jurjání, Ta`rífát).
[178]. Nafaḥát, No. 15.
[179]. Here the author refers to the example of Moses, whose prayer for vision of God was refused (Kor. vii, 139), because he was exercising his own choice.
[180]. This distinction between shurb and dhawq is illustrated by citations from the Koran, viz., lii, 19; xliv, 49; and liv, 48.
CHAPTER XXV.
The Uncovering of the Eleventh Veil: Concerning Audition (samá`).
The means of acquiring knowledge are five: hearing, sight, taste, smell, and touch. God has created for the mind these five avenues, and has made every kind of knowledge depend on one of them. Four of the five senses are situated in a special organ, but one, namely touch, is diffused over the whole body. It is possible, however, that this diffusion, which is characteristic of touch, may be shared by any of the other senses. The Mu`tazilites hold that no sense can exist but in a special organ (maḥall-i makhṣúṣ), a theory which is controverted by the fact that the sense of touch has no such organ. Since one of the five senses has no special organ, it follows that, if the sense of touch is generally diffused, the other senses may be capable of the same diffusion. Although it is not my purpose to discuss this question here, I thought a brief explanation necessary. God has sent Apostles with true evidences, but belief in His Apostles does not become obligatory until the obligatoriness of knowing God is ascertained by means of hearing. It is hearing, then, that makes religion obligatory; and for this reason the Sunnís regard hearing as superior to sight in the domain of religious obligation (taklíf). If it be said that vision of God is better than hearing His word, I reply that our knowledge of God’s visibility to the faithful in Paradise is derived from hearing: it is a matter of indifference whether the understanding allows that God shall be visible or not, inasmuch as we are assured of the fact by oral tradition. Hence hearing is superior to sight. Moreover, all religious ordinances are based on hearing and could not be established without it; and all the prophets on their appearance first spoke in order that those who heard them might believe, then in the second place they showed miracles (mu`jiza), which also were corroborated by hearing. What has been said proves that anyone who denies audition denies the entire religious law.
Chapter on the Audition of the Koran and kindred matters.
The most beneficial audition to the mind and the most delightful to the ear is that of the Word of God, which all believers and unbelievers, human beings and perís alike, are commanded to hear. It is a miraculous quality of the Koran that one never grows weary of reading and hearing it, so that the Quraysh used to come secretly by night and listen to the Apostle while he was praying and marvel at his recitation, e.g., Naḍr b. al-Ḥárith, who was the most elegant of them in speech, and `Utba b. Rabí`a, who was bewitchingly eloquent, and Abú Jahl b. Hishám, who was a wondrous orator. One night `Utba swooned on hearing the Apostle recite a chapter of the Koran, and he said to Abú Jahl: “I am sure that these are not the words of any created being.” The perís also came and listened to the Word of God, and said: “Verily, we heard a marvellous recitation, which guides to the right way; and we shall not associate anyone with our Lord” (Kor. lxxii, 1-2).[[181]] It is related that a man recited in the presence of `Abdalláh b. Ḥanẕala: “They shall have a couch of Hell-fire, and above them shall be quilts thereof” (Kor. vii, 39). `Abdalláh began to weep so violently that, to quote the narrator’s words, “I thought life would depart from him.” Then he rose to his feet. They bade him sit down, but he cried: “Awe of this verse prevents me from sitting down.” It is related that the following verse was read in the presence of Junayd: “O believers, why say ye that which ye do not?” (Kor. lxi, 2). Junayd said: “O Lord, if we say, we say because of Thee, and if we do, we do because of Thy blessing: where, then, is our saying and doing?” It is related that Shiblí said, on hearing the verse “And remember thy Lord when thou forgettest” (Kor. xviii, 23), “Remembrance (of God) involves forgetfulness (of self), and all the world have stopped short at the remembrance of Him;” then he shrieked and fell senseless. When he came to himself, he said: “I wonder at the sinner who can hear God’s Word and remain unmoved.” A certain Shaykh says: “Once I was reading the Word of God, ‘Beware of a day on which ye shall be returned unto God’ (Kor. ii, 281). A heavenly voice called to me, ‘Do not read so loud; four perís have died from the terror inspired in them by this verse’.” A dervish said: “For the last ten years I have not read nor heard the Koran except that small portion thereof which is used in prayer.” On being asked why, he answered: “For fear lest it should be cited as an argument against me.” One day I came into the presence of Shaykh Abu ´l-`Abbás Shaqání and found him reading: “God propoundeth as a parable an owned slave who hath naught in his power” (Kor. xvi, 77), and weeping and shrieking, so that he swooned and I thought he was dead. “O Shaykh,” I cried, “what ails thee?” He said: “After eleven years I have reached this point in my set portion of the Koran and am unable to proceed farther.” Abu ´l-`Abbás b. `Aṭá was asked how much of the Koran he read daily. He answered: “Formerly I used to read the whole Koran twice in a day and night, but now after reading for fourteen years I have only reached the Súrat al-Anfál.”[[182]] It is related that Abu ´l-`Abbás Qaṣṣáb said to a Koran-reader, “Recite,” whereupon he recited: “O noble one, famine hath befallen us and our people, and we are come with a petty merchandise” (Kor. xii, 88). He said once more, “Recite,” whereupon the reader recited: “If he stole, a brother of his hath stolen heretofore” (Kor. xii, 77). Abu ´l-`Abbás bade him recite a third time, so he recited: “No blame shall be laid upon you this day: God forgiveth you,” etc. (Kor. xii, 92). Abu ´l-`Abbás cried: “O Lord, I am more unjust than Joseph’s brethren, and Thou art more kind than Joseph: deal with me as he dealt with his wicked brethren.”
All Moslems, pious and disobedient alike, are commanded to listen to the Koran, for God hath said: “When the Koran is recited hearken thereto and be silent that perchance ye may win mercy” (Kor. vii, 203).[[183]] And it is related that the Apostle said to Ibn Mas`úd: “Recite the Koran to me.” Ibn Mas`úd said: “Shall I recite it to thee, to whom it was revealed?” The Apostle answered: “I wish to hear it from another.” This is a clear proof that the hearer is more perfect in state than the reader, for the reader may recite with or without true feeling, whereas the hearer feels truly, because speech is a sort of pride and hearing is a sort of humility. The Apostle also said that the chapter of Húd had whitened his hair. It is explained that he said this because of the verse at the end of that chapter: “Be thou steadfast, therefore, as thou hast been commanded” (Kor. xi, 114), for Man is unable to be really steadfast in fulfilling the Divine commandments, inasmuch as he can do nothing without God’s help.[[184]]
Section.
Zurára b. Abí Awfá, one of the chief Companions of the Apostle, while he was presiding over the public worship, recited a verse of the Koran, uttered a cry, and died. Abú Ja`far Juhaní,[[185]] an eminent Follower, on hearing a verse which Ṣáliḥ Murrí[[186]] read to him, gave a loud moan and departed from this world. Ibráhím Nakha`í[[187]] relates that while he was passing through a village in the neighbourhood of Kúfa he saw an old woman standing in prayer. As the marks of holiness were manifest on her countenance, he waited until she finished praying and then saluted her in hope of gaining a blessing thereby. She said to him, “Dost thou know the Koran?” He said, “Yes.” She said, “Recite a verse.” He did so, whereupon she cried aloud and sent her soul forth to meet the vision of God. Aḥmad b. Abi ´l-Ḥawárí relates the following tale. “I saw in the desert a youth, clad in a coarse frock, standing at the mouth of a well. He said to me: ‘O Aḥmad, thou art come in good time, for I must needs hear the Koran, that I may give up my soul. Read me a verse.’ God inspired me to read, ‘Verily, those who say, “God is our Lord,” and then are steadfast’ (Kor. xli, 30). ‘O Aḥmad,’ said he, ‘by the Lord of the Ka`ba thou hast read the same verse which an angel was reading to me just now,’ and with these words he gave up his soul.”
Chapter on the Audition of Poetry, etc.
It is permissible to hear poetry. The Apostle heard it, and the Companions not only heard it but also spoke it. The Apostle said, “Some poetry is wisdom;” and he said, “Wisdom is the believer’s lost she-camel: wherever he finds her, he has the best right to her;” and he said too, “The truest word ever spoken by the Arabs is the verse of Labíd,
‘Everything except God is vain,
And all fortune is inevitably fleeting.’”
`Amr b. al-Sharíd[[188]] relates that his father said: “The Apostle asked me whether I could recite any poetry of Umayya b. Abi ´l-Ṣalt, so I recited a hundred verses, and at the end of each verse he cried, ‘Go on!’ He said that Umayya almost became a Moslem in his poetry.” Many such stories are told of the Apostle and the Companions. Erroneous views are prevalent on this subject. Some declare that it is unlawful to listen to any poetry whatever, and pass their lives in defaming their brother Moslems. Some, on the contrary, hold that all poetry is lawful, and spend their time in listening to love-songs and descriptions of the face and hair and mole of the beloved. I do not intend to discuss the arguments which both parties in this controversy bring forward against each other. The Ṣúfí Shaykhs follow the example of the Apostle, who, on being asked about poetry, said: “What is good thereof is good and what is bad thereof is bad,” i.e., whatever is unlawful, like backbiting and calumny and foul abuse and blame of any person and utterance of infidelity, is equally unlawful whether it be expressed in prose or in verse; and whatever is lawful in prose, like morality and exhortations and inferences drawn from the signs of God and contemplation of the evidences of the Truth, is no less lawful in verse. In fine, just as it is unlawful and forbidden to look at or touch a beautiful object which is a source of evil, so it is unlawful and forbidden to listen to that object or, similarly, to hear the description of it. Those who regard such hearing as absolutely lawful must also regard looking and touching as lawful, which is infidelity and heresy. If one says, “I hear only God and seek only God in eye and cheek and mole and curl,” it follows that another may look at a cheek and mole and say that he sees and seeks God alone, because both the eye and the ear are sources of admonition and knowledge; then another may say that in touching a person, whose description it is thought allowable to hear and whom it is thought allowable to behold, he, too, is only seeking God, since one sense is no better adapted than another to apprehend a reality; then the whole religious law is made null and void, and the Apostle’s saying that the eyes commit fornication loses all its force, and the blame of touching persons with whom marriage may legally be contracted is removed, and the ordinances of religion fall to the ground. Foolish aspirants to Ṣúfiism, seeing the adepts absorbed in ecstasy during audition (samá`), imagined that they were acting from a sensual impulse and said, “It is lawful, else they would not have done so,” and imitated them, taking up the form but neglecting the spirit, until they perished themselves and led others into perdition. This is one of the great evils of our time. I will set it forth completely in the proper place.
Chapter on the Audition of Voices and Melodies.
The Apostle said, “Beautify your voices by reading the Koran aloud;” and God hath said, “God addeth unto His creatures what He pleaseth” (Kor. xxxv, 1), meaning, as the commentators think, a beautiful voice; and the Apostle said, “Whoso wishes to hear the voice of David, let him listen to the voice of Abú Músá al-Ash`arí.” It is stated in well-known traditions that the inhabitants of Paradise enjoy audition, for there comes forth from every tree a different voice and melody. When diverse sounds are mingled together, the natural temperament experiences a great delight. This sort of audition is common to all living creatures, because the spirit is subtle, and there is a subtlety in sounds, so that when they are heard the spirit inclines to that which is homogeneous with itself. Physicians and those philosophers who claim to possess a profound knowledge of the truth have discussed this subject at large and have written books on musical harmony. The results of their invention are manifest to-day in the musical instruments which have been contrived for the sake of exciting passion and procuring amusement and pleasure, in accord with Satan, and so skilfully that (as the story is told) one day, when Isḥáq of Mawṣil[[189]] was playing in a garden, a nightingale, enraptured with the music, broke off its song in order to listen, and dropped dead from the bough. I have heard many tales of this kind, but my only purpose is to mention the theory that the temperaments of all living creatures are composed of sounds and melodies blended and harmonized. Ibráhím Khawwáṣ says: “Once I came to an Arab tribe and alighted at the hospitable abode of one of their chiefs. I saw a negro lying, shackled and chained, at the tent door in the heat of the sun. I felt pity for him and resolved to intercede with the chief on his behalf. When food was brought for my entertainment I refused to eat, knowing that nothing grieves an Arab more than this. The chief asked me why I refused, and I answered that I hoped his generosity would grant me a boon. He begged me to eat, assuring me that all he possessed was mine. ‘I do not want your wealth,' I said, ‘but pardon this slave for my sake.’ ‘First hear what his offence was,’ the chief replied, ‘then remove his chains. This slave is a camel-driver, and he has a sweet voice. I sent him with a few camels to my estates, to fetch me some corn. He put a double load on every camel and chanted so sweetly on the way that the camels ran at full speed. They returned hither in a short time, and as soon as he unloaded them they died one after another.’ ‘O prince,’ I cried in astonishment, ‘a nobleman like you does not speak falsely, but I wish for some evidence of this tale.’ While we talked a number of camels were brought from the desert to the wells, that they might drink. The chief inquired how long they had gone without water. ‘Three days,’ was the reply. He then commanded the slave to chant. The camels became so occupied in listening to his song that they would not drink a mouthful of water, and suddenly they turned and fled, one by one, and dispersed in the desert. The chieftain released the slave and pardoned him for my sake.”
We often see, for example, how camels and asses are affected with delight when their drivers trill an air. In Khurásán and `Iráq it is the custom for hunters, when hunting deer (áhú) at night, to beat on a basin of brass (ṭashtí) in order that the deer may stand still, listening to the sound, and thus be caught. And in India, as is well known, some people go out to the open country and sing and make a tinkling sound, on hearing which the deer approach; then the hunters encircle them and sing, until the deer are lulled to sleep by the delightful melody and are easily captured. The same effect is manifest in young children who cease crying in the cradle when a tune is sung to them, and listen to the tune. Physicians say of such a child that he is sensible and will be clever when he grows up. On the death of one of the ancient kings of Persia his ministers wished to enthrone his son, who was a child two years old. Buzurjmihr,[[190]] on being consulted, said: “Very good, but we must make trial whether he is sensible,” and ordered singers to sing to him. The child was stirred with emotion and began to shake his arms and legs. Buzurjmihr declared that this was a hopeful sign and consented to his succession. Anyone who says that he finds no pleasure in sounds and melodies and music is either a liar and a hypocrite or he is not in his right senses, and is outside of the category of men and beasts. Those who prohibit music do so in order that they may keep the Divine commandment, but theologians are agreed that it is permissible to hear musical instruments if they are not used for diversion, and if the mind is not led to wickedness through hearing them. Many traditions are cited in support of this view. Thus, it is related that `Á´isha said: “A slave-girl was singing in my house when `Umar asked leave to enter. As soon as she heard his step she ran away. He came in and the Apostle smiled. ‘O Apostle of God,’ cried `Umar, ‘what hath made thee smile?’ The Apostle answered, ‘A slave-girl was singing here, but she ran away as soon as she heard thy step.’ ‘I will not depart,’ said `Umar, ‘until I hear what the Apostle heard.’ So the Apostle called the girl back and she began to sing, the Apostle listening to her.” Many of the Companions have related similar traditions, which Abú `Abd al-Raḥmán al-Sulamí has collected in his Kitáb al-Samá`[[191]]; and he has pronounced such audition to be permissible. In practising audition, however, the Ṣúfí Shaykhs desire, not permissibility as the vulgar do, but spiritual advantages. Licence is proper for beasts, but men who are subject to the obligations of religion ought to seek spiritual benefit from their actions. Once, when I was at Merv, one of the leaders of the Ahl-i ḥadíth[[192]] and the most celebrated of them all said to me: “I have composed a work on the permissibility of audition.” I replied: “It is a great calamity to religion that the Imám should have made lawful an amusement which is the root of all immorality.” “If you do not hold it to be lawful,” said he, “why do you practise it?” I answered: “Its lawfulness depends on circumstances and cannot be asserted absolutely: if audition produces a lawful effect on the mind, then it is lawful; it is unlawful if the effect is unlawful, and permissible if the effect is permissible.”
Chapter on the Principles of Audition.
You must know that the principles of audition vary with the variety of temperaments, just as there are different desires in various hearts, and it is tyranny to lay down one law for all. Auditors (mustami`án) may be divided into two classes: (1) those who hear the spiritual meaning, (2) those who hear the material sound. There are good and evil results in each case. Listening to sweet sounds produces an effervescence (ghalayán) of the substance moulded in Man: true (ḥaqq) if the substance be true, false (báṭil) if the substance be false. When the stuff of a man’s temperament is evil, that which he hears will be evil too. The whole of this topic is illustrated by the story of David, whom God made His vicegerent and gave him a sweet voice and caused his throat to be a melodious pipe, so that wild beasts and birds came from mountain and plain to hear him, and the water ceased to flow and the birds fell from the air. It is related that during a month’s space the people who were gathered round him in the desert ate no food, and the children neither wept nor asked for milk; and whenever the folk departed it was found that many had died of the rapture that seized them as they listened to his voice: one time, it is said, the tale of the dead amounted to seven hundred maidens and twelve thousand old men. Then God, wishing to separate those who listened to the voice and followed their temperament from the followers of the truth (ahl-i ḥaqq) who listened to the spiritual reality, permitted Iblís to work his will and display his wiles. Iblís fashioned a mandoline and a flute and took up a station opposite to the place where David was singing. David’s audience became divided into two parties: the blest and the damned. Those who were destined to damnation lent ear to the music of Iblís, while those who were destined to felicity remained listening to the voice of David. The spiritualists (ahl-i ma`ní) were conscious of nothing except David’s voice, for they saw God alone; if they heard the Devil’s music, they regarded it as a temptation proceeding from God, and if they heard David’s voice, they recognized it as being a direction from God; wherefore they abandoned all things that are merely subsidiary and saw both right and wrong as they really are. When a man has audition of this kind, whatever he hears is lawful to him. Some impostors, however, say that their audition is contrary to the reality. This is absurd, for the perfection of saintship consists in seeing everything as it really is, that the vision may be right; if you see otherwise, the vision is wrong. The Apostle said: “O God, let us see things as they are.” Similarly, right audition consists in hearing everything as it is in quality and predicament. The reason why men are seduced and their passions excited by musical instruments is that they hear unreally: if their audition corresponded with the reality, they would escape from all evil consequences. The people of error heard the word of God, and their error waxed greater than before. Some of them quoted “The eyes attain not unto Him” (Kor. vi, 103) as a demonstration that there shall be no vision of God; some cited “Then He settled Himself on the throne” (Kor. vii, 52) to prove that position and direction may be affirmed of Him; and some argued that God actually “comes”, since He has said, “And thy Lord shall come and the angels rank by rank” (Kor. lxxxix, 23). Inasmuch as error was implanted in their minds, it profited them nothing to hear the Word of God. The Unitarian, on the other hand, when he peruses a poem, regards the Creator of the poet’s nature and the Disposer of his thoughts, and drawing an admonition therefrom, sees in the act an evidence of the Agent. Thus he finds the right way even in falsehood, while those whom we have mentioned above lose the way in the midst of truth.
Section.
The Shaykhs have uttered many sayings on this subject. Dhu ´l-Nún the Egyptian says: “Audition is a Divine influence (wárid al-ḥaqq) which stirs the heart to seek God: those who listen to it spiritually (ba-ḥaqq) attain unto God (taḥaqqaqa), and those who listen to it sensually (ba-nafs) fall into heresy (tazandaqa).” This venerable Ṣúfí does not mean that audition is the cause of attaining unto God, but he means that the auditor ought to hear the spiritual reality, not the mere sound, and that the Divine influence ought to sink into his heart and stir it up. One who in that audition follows the truth will experience a revelation, whereas one who follows his lower soul (nafs) will be veiled and will have recourse to interpretation (ta´wíl). Zandaqa (heresy) is a Persian word which has been Arabicized. In the Arabic tongue it signifies “interpretation”. Accordingly, the Persians call the commentary on their Book Zand ú Pázand.[[193]] The philologists, wishing to give a name to the descendants of the Magians, called them zindíq on the ground of their assertion that everything stated by the Moslems has an esoteric interpretation, which destroys its external sense. At the present day the Shí`ites of Egypt, who are the remnant of these Magians, make the same assertion. Hence the word zindíq came to be applied to them as a proper name. Dhu ´l-Nún, by using this term, intended to declare that spiritualists in audition penetrate to the reality, while sensualists make a far-fetched interpretation and thereby fall into wickedness. Shiblí says: “Audition is outwardly a temptation (fitnat) and inwardly an admonition (`ibrat): he who knows the mystic sign (ishárat) may lawfully hear the admonition; otherwise, he has invited temptation and exposed himself to calamity,” i.e. audition is calamitous and a source of evil to anyone whose whole heart is not absorbed in the thought of God. Abú `Alí Rúdbárí said, in answer to a man who questioned him concerning audition: “Would that I were rid of it entirely!” because Man is unable to do everything as it ought to be done, and when he fails to do a thing duly he perceives that he has failed and wishes to be rid of it altogether. One of the Shaykhs says: “Audition is that which makes the heart aware of the things in it that produce absence” (má fíhá mina ´l-mughayyibát), so that the effect thereof is to make the heart present with God. Absence (ghaybat) is a most blameworthy quality of the heart. The lover, though absent from his Beloved, must be present with him in heart; if he be absent in heart, his love is gone. My Shaykh said: “Audition is the viaticum of the indigent: one who has reached his journey’s end hath no need of it,” because hearing can perform no function where union is; news is heard of the absent, but hearing is naught when two are face to face. Ḥuṣrí says: “What avails an audition that ceases whenever the person whom thou hearest becomes silent? It is necessary that thy audition should be continuous and uninterrupted.” This saying is a token of the concentration of his thoughts in the field of love. When a man attains so high a degree as this he hears (spiritual truths) from every object in the universe.
Chapter on the various opinions respecting Audition.
The Shaykhs and spiritualists hold different views as to audition. Some say that it is a faculty appertaining to absence, for in contemplation (of God) audition is impossible, inasmuch as the lover who is united with his Beloved fixes his gaze on Him and does not need to listen to him; therefore, audition is a faculty of beginners which they employ, when distracted by forgetfulness, in order to obtain concentration; but one who is already concentrated will inevitably be distracted thereby. Others, again, say that audition is a faculty appertaining to presence (with God), because love demands all; until the whole of the lover is absorbed in the whole of the Beloved, he is deficient in love: therefore, as in union the heart (dil) has love and the soul (sirr) has contemplation and the spirit has union and the body has service, so the ear also must have such a pleasure as the eye derives from seeing. How excellent, though on a frivolous topic, are the words of the poet who declared his love for wine!
“Give me wine to drink and tell me it is wine.
Do not give it me in secret, when it can be given openly,”[[194]]
i.e., let my eye see it and my hand touch it and my palate taste it and my nose smell it: there yet remains one sense to be gratified, viz. my hearing: tell me, therefore, this is wine, that my ear may feel the same delight as my other senses. And they say that audition appertains to presence with God, because he who is absent from God is a disbeliever (munkir), and those who disbelieve are not worthy to enjoy audition. Accordingly, there are two kinds of audition: mediate and immediate. Audition of which a reciter (qárí) is the source is a faculty of absence, but audition of which the Beloved (yárí) is the source is a faculty of presence. It was on this account that a well-known spiritual director said: “I will not put any created beings, except the chosen men of God, in a place where I can hear their talk or converse with them.”
Chapter concerning their different grades in the reality of Audition.
You must know that each Ṣúfí has a particular grade in audition and that the feelings which he gains therefrom are proportionate to his grade. Thus, whatever is heard by penitents augments their contrition and remorse; whatever is heard by longing lovers increases their longing for vision; whatever is heard by those who have certain faith confirms their certainty; whatever is heard by novices verifies their elucidation (of matters which perplex them); whatever is heard by lovers impels them to cut off all worldly connexions; and whatever is heard by the spiritually poor forms a foundation for hopelessness. Audition is like the sun, which shines on all things but affects them differently according to their degree: it burns or illumines or dissolves or nurtures. All the classes that I have mentioned are included in the three following grades: beginners (mubtadiyán), middlemen (mutawassiṭán), and adepts (kámilán). I will now insert a section treating of the state of each of these three grades in regard to audition, that you may understand this matter more easily.
Section.
Audition is an influence (wárid) proceeding from God, and inasmuch as this body is moulded of folly and diversion the temperament of the beginner is nowise capable of (enduring) the word of God, but is overpoweringly impressed by the descent of that spiritual reality, so that some lose their senses in audition and some die, and there is no one whose temperament retains its equilibrium. It is well known that in the hospitals of Rúm they have invented a wonderful thing which they call angalyún;[[195]] the Greeks call anything that is very marvellous by this name, e.g. the Gospel and the books (waḍ`) of Mání (Manes). The word signifies “promulgation of a decree” (iẕhár-i ḥukm). This angalyún resembles a stringed musical instrument (rúdí az rúdha). The sick are brought to it two days in the week and are forced to listen, while it is being played on, for a length of time proportionate to the malady from which they suffer; then they are taken away. If it is desired to kill anyone, he is kept there for a longer period, until he dies. Everyone’s term of life is really written (in the tablets of destiny), but death is caused indirectly by various circumstances. Physicians and others may listen continually to the angalyún without being affected in any way, because it is consonant with their temperaments. I have seen in India a worm which appeared in a deadly poison and lived by it, because that poison was its whole being. In a town of Turkistán, on the frontiers of Islam, I saw a burning mountain, from the rocks of which sal-ammoniac fumes (nawshádur) were boiling forth;[[196]] and in the midst of that fire was a mouse, which died when it came out of the glowing heat. My object in citing these examples is to show that all the agitation of beginners, when the Divine influence descends upon them, is due to the fact that their bodies are opposed to it; but when it becomes continual the beginner receives it quietly. At first the Apostle could not bear the vision of Gabriel, but in the end he used to be distressed if Gabriel ever failed to come, even for a brief space. Similarly, the stories which I have related above show that beginners are agitated and that adepts are tranquil in audition. Junayd had a disciple who was wont to be greatly agitated in audition, so that the other dervishes were distracted. They complained to Junayd, and he told the disciple that he would not associate with him if he displayed such agitation in future. “I watched that dervish,” says Abú Muḥammad Jurayrí, “during audition: he kept his lips shut and was silent until every pore in his body opened; then he lost consciousness, and remained in that state for a whole day. I know not whether his audition or his reverence for his spiritual director was more perfect.” It is related that a man cried out during audition. His spiritual director bade him be quiet. He laid his head on his knee, and when they looked he was dead. I heard Shaykh Abú Muslim Fáris b. Ghálib al-Fárisí say that some one laid his hand on the head of a dervish who was agitated during audition and told him to sit down: he sat down and died on the spot. Raqqí[[197]] relates that Darráj[[198]] said: “While Ibn al-Qúṭí[[199]] and I were walking on the bank of the Tigris between Baṣra and Ubulla, we came to a pavilion and saw a handsome man seated on the roof, and beside him a girl who was singing this verse:—
‘My love was bestowed on thee in the way of God;
Thou changest every day: it would beseem thee better not to do this.’
A young man with a jug and a patched frock was standing beneath the pavilion. He exclaimed: ‘O damsel, for God’s sake chant that verse again, for I have only a moment to live; let me hear it and die!’ The girl repeated her song, whereupon the youth uttered a cry and gave up his soul. The owner of the girl said to her, ‘Thou art free,’ and came down from the roof and busied himself with preparations for the young man’s funeral. When he was buried all the people of Baṣra said prayers over him. Then the girl’s master rose and said: ‘O people of Baṣra, I, who am so-and-so, the son of so-and-so, have devoted all my wealth to pious works and have set free my slaves.’ With these words he departed, and no one ever learned what became of him.” The moral of this tale is that the novice should be transported by audition to such an extent that his audition shall deliver the wicked from their wickedness. But in the present age some persons attend meetings where the wicked listen to music, yet they say, “We are listening to God;” and the wicked join with them in this audition and are encouraged in their wickedness, so that both parties are destroyed. Junayd was asked: “May we go to a church for the purpose of admonishing ourselves and beholding the indignity of their unbelief and giving thanks for the gift of Islam?” He replied: “If you can go to a church and bring some of the worshippers back with you to the Court of God, then go, but not otherwise.” When an anchorite goes into a tavern, the tavern becomes his cell, and when a haunter of taverns goes into a cell, that cell becomes his tavern. An eminent Shaykh relates that when he was walking in Baghdád with a dervish, he heard a singer chanting—
“If it be true, it is the best of all objects of desire,
And if not, we have lived a pleasant life in it.”
The dervish uttered a cry and died. Abú `Alí Rúdbárí says: “I saw a dervish listening attentively to the voice of a singer. I too inclined my ear, for I wished to know what he was chanting. The words, which he sang in mournful accents, were these:—
‘I humbly stretch my hand to him who gives food liberally.’
Then the dervish uttered a loud cry and fell. When we came near him we found that he was dead.” A certain man says: “I was walking on a mountain road with Ibráhím Khawwáṣ. A sudden thrill of emotion seized my heart, and I chanted—
‘All men are sure that I am in love,
But they know not whom I love.
There is in Man no beauty
That is not surpassed in beauty by a beautiful voice.’
Ibráhím begged me to repeat the verses, and I did so. In sympathetic ecstasy (tawájud) he danced a few steps on the stony ground. I observed that his feet sank into the rock as though it were wax. Then he fell in a swoon. On coming to himself he said to me: ‘I have been in Paradise, and you were unaware.’“ I once saw with my own eyes a dervish walking in meditation among the mountains of Ádharbáyaján and rapidly singing to himself these verses, with many tears and moans:—
”By God, sun never rose or set but thou wert my heart’s desire and my dream.
And I never sat conversing with any people but thou wert the subject of my conversation in the midst of my comrades.
And I never mentioned thee in joy or sorrow but love for thee was mingled with my breath.
And I never resolved to drink water, when I was athirst, but I saw an image of thee in the cup.
And were I able to come I would have visited thee, crawling on my face or walking on my head.”
On hearing these verses he changed countenance and sat down for a while, leaning his back against a crag, and gave up his soul.
Section.
Some of the Ṣúfí Shaykhs have objected to the hearing of odes and poems and to the recitation of the Koran in such a way that its words are intoned with undue emphasis, and they have warned their disciples against these practices and have themselves eschewed them and have displayed the utmost zeal in this matter. Of such objectors there are several classes, and each class has a different reason. Some have found traditions declaring the practices in question to be unlawful and have followed the pious Moslems of old in condemning them. They cite, for example, the Apostle’s rebuke to Shírín, the handmaid of Ḥassán b. Thábit, whom he forbade to sing; and `Umar’s flogging the Companions who used to hear music; and `Alí’s finding fault with Mu`áwiya for keeping singing-girls, and his not allowing Ḥasan to look at the Abyssinian woman who used to sing and his calling her “the Devil’s mate”. They say, moreover, that their chief argument for the objectionableness of music is the fact that the Moslem community, both now and in past times, are generally agreed in regarding it with disapproval. Some go so far as to pronounce it absolutely unlawful, quoting Abu ´l-Ḥárith Bunání, who relates as follows: “I was very assiduous in audition. One night a certain person came to my cell and told me that a number of seekers of God had assembled and were desirous to see me. I went out with him and soon arrived at the place. They received me with extraordinary marks of honour. An old man, round whom they had formed a circle, said to me: ‘With thy leave, some poetry will be recited.’ I assented, whereupon one of them began to chant verses which the poets had composed on the subject of separation (from the beloved). They all rose in sympathetic ecstasy, uttering melodious cries and making exquisite gestures, while I remained lost in amazement at their behaviour. They continued in this enthusiasm until near daybreak, then the old man said, ‘O Shaykh, art not thou curious to learn who am I and who are my companions?’ I answered that the reverence which I felt towards him prevented me from asking that question. ‘I myself,’ said he, ‘was once `Azrá`íl and am now Iblís, and all the rest are my children. Two benefits accrue to me from such concerts as this: firstly, I bewail my own separation (from God) and remember the days of my prosperity, and secondly, I lead holy men astray and cast them into error.’ From that time (said the narrator) I have never had the least desire to practise audition.”
I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, have heard the Shaykh and Imám Abu ´l-`Abbás al-Ashqání relate that one day, being in an assembly where audition was going on, he saw naked demons dancing among the members of the party and breathing upon them, so that they waxed hot.
Others, again, refuse to practise audition on the ground that, if they indulged in it, their disciples would conform with them and thereby run a grave risk of falling into mischief and of returning from penitence to sin and of having their passions violently roused and their virtue corrupted. It is related that Junayd said to a recently converted disciple: “If you wish to keep your religion safe and to maintain your penitence, do not indulge, while you are young, in the audition which the Ṣúfís practise; and when you grow old, do not let yourself be the cause of guilt in others.”
Others say that there are two classes of auditors: those who are frivolous (láhí) and those who are divine (iláhí). The former are in the very centre of mischief and do not shrink from it, while the latter keep themselves remote from mischief by means of self-mortification and austerities and spiritual renunciation of all created things. “Since we” (so say the persons of whom I am now speaking) “belong to neither of these two classes, it is better for us to abstain from audition and to occupy ourselves with something that is suitable to our state.”
Others say: “Inasmuch as audition is dangerous to the vulgar and their belief is disturbed by our taking part in it, and inasmuch as they are unable to attain to our degree therein and incur guilt through us, we have pity on the vulgar and give sincere advice to the elect and from altruistic motives decline to indulge in audition.” This is a laudable course of action.
Others say: “The Apostle has said, ‘It contributes to the excellence of a man’s Islam if he leaves alone that which does not concern him.’ Accordingly, we renounce audition as being unnecessary, for it is a waste of time to busy one’s self with irrelevant things, and time is precious between lovers and the Beloved.”
Others of the elect argue that audition is hearsay and its pleasure consists in gratification of a desire, and this is mere child’s play. What value has hearsay when one is face to face? The act of real worth is contemplation (of God).
Such, in brief, are the principles of audition.
Chapter on Wajd and Wujúd and Tawájud.
Wajd and wujúd are verbal nouns, the former meaning “grief” and the latter “finding”. These terms are used by Ṣúfís to denote two states which manifest themselves in audition: one state is connected with grief, and the other with gaining the object of desire. The real sense of “grief” is “loss of the Beloved and failure to gain the object of desire”, while the real sense of “finding” is “attainment of the desired object”. The difference between ḥazan (sorrow) and wajd is this, that the term ḥazan is applied to a selfish grief, whereas the term wajd is applied to grief for another in the way of love, albeit the relation of otherness belongs only to the seeker of God, for God Himself is never other than He is. It is impossible to explain the nature of wajd, because wajd is pain in actual vision, and pain (alam) cannot be described by pen (qalam). Wajd is a mystery between the seeker and the Sought, which only a revelation can expound. Nor is it possible to indicate the nature of wujúd, because wujúd is a thrill of emotion in contemplation of God, and emotion (ṭarab) cannot be reached by investigation (ṭalab). Wujúd is a grace bestowed by the Beloved on the lover, a grace of which no symbol can suggest the real nature. In my opinion, wajd is a painful affection of the heart, arising either from jest or earnest, either from sadness or gladness; and wujúd is the removal of a grief from the heart and the discovery of the object that was its cause. He who feels wajd is either agitated by ardent longing in the state of occultation (ḥijáb), or calmed by contemplation in the state of revelation (kashf). The Shaykhs hold different views on the question whether wajd or wujúd is more perfect. Some argue that, wujúd being characteristic of novices (murídán), and wajd of gnostics (`árifán), and gnostics being more exalted in degree than novices, it follows that wajd is higher and more perfect than wujúd; for (they say) everything that is capable of being found is apprehensible, and apprehensibility is characteristic of that which is homogeneous with something else: it involves finiteness, whereas God is infinite; therefore, what a man finds is naught but a feeling (mashrabí), but what he has not found, and in despair has ceased to seek, is the Truth of which the only finder is God. Some, again, declare that wajd is the glowing passion of novices, while wujúd is a gift bestowed on lovers, and, since lovers are more exalted than novices, quiet enjoyment of the gift must be more perfect than passionate seeking. This problem cannot be solved without a story, which I will now relate. One day Shiblí came in rapturous ecstasy to Junayd. Seeing that Junayd was sorrowful, he asked what ailed him. Junayd said, “He who seeks shall find.” Shiblí cried, “No; he who finds shall seek.” This anecdote has been discussed by the Shaykhs, because Junayd was referring to wajd and Shibli to wujúd. I think Junayd’s view is authoritative, for, when a man knows that his object of worship is not of the same genus as himself, his grief has no end. This topic has been handled in the present work. The Shaykhs agree that the power of knowledge should be greater than the power of wajd, since, if wajd be more powerful, the person affected by it is in a dangerous position, whereas one in whom knowledge preponderates is secure. It behoves the seeker in all circumstances to be a follower of knowledge and of the religious law, for when he is overcome by wajd he is deprived of discrimination (khiṭáb), and is not liable to recompense for good actions or punishment for evil, and is exempt from honour and disgrace alike: therefore he is in the predicament of madmen, not in that of the saints and favourites of God. A person in whom knowledge (`ilm) preponderates over feeling (ḥál) remains in the bosom of the Divine commands and prohibitions, and is always praised and rewarded in the palace of glory; but a person in whom feeling preponderates over knowledge is outside of the ordinances, and dwells, having lost the faculty of discrimination, in his own imperfection. This is precisely the meaning of Junayd’s words. There are two ways: one of knowledge and one of action. Action without knowledge, although it may be good, is ignorant and imperfect, but knowledge, even if it be unaccompanied by action, is glorious and noble. Hence Abú Yazíd said, “The unbelief of the magnanimous is nobler than the Islam of the covetous;” and Junayd said, “Shiblí is intoxicated; if he became sober he would be an Imám from whom people would benefit.” It is a well-known story that Junayd and Muḥammad[[200]] b. Masrúq and Abu ´l-`Abbás b. `Aṭá were together, and the singer (qawwál) was chanting a verse. Junayd remained calm while his two friends fell into a forced ecstasy (tawájud), and on their asking him why he did not participate in the audition (samá`) he recited the word of God: “Thou shall think them (the mountains) motionless, but they shall pass like the clouds” (Kor. xxvii, 90). Tawájud is “taking pains to produce wajd”, by representing to one’s mind, for example, the bounties and evidences of God, and thinking of union (ittiṣál) and wishing for the practices of holy men. Some do this tawájud in a formal manner, and imitate them by outward motions and methodical dancing and grace of gesture: such tawájud is absolutely unlawful. Others do it in a spiritual manner, with the desire of attaining to their condition and degree. The Apostle said, “He who makes himself like unto a people is one of them,” and he said, “When ye recite the Koran, weep, or if ye weep not, then endeavour to weep.” This tradition proclaims that tawájud is permissible. Hence that spiritual director said: “I will go a thousand leagues in falsehood, that one step of the journey may be true.”
Chapter on Dancing, etc.
You must know that dancing (raqṣ) has no foundation either in the religious law (of Islam) or in the path (of Ṣúfiism), because all reasonable men agree that it is a diversion when it is in earnest, and an impropriety (laghwí) when it is in jest. None of the Shaykhs has commended it or exceeded due bounds therein, and all the traditions cited in its favour by anthropomorphists (ahl-i ḥashw) are worthless. But since ecstatic movements and the practices of those who endeavour to induce ecstasy (ahl-i tawájud) resemble it, some frivolous imitators have indulged in it immoderately and have made it a religion. I have met with a number of common people who adopted Ṣúfiism in the belief that it is this (dancing) and nothing more. Others have condemned it altogether. In short, all foot-play (páy-bází) is bad in law and reason, by whomsoever it is practised, and the best of mankind cannot possibly practise it; but when the heart throbs with exhilaration and rapture becomes intense and the agitation of ecstasy is manifested and conventional forms are gone, that agitation (iḍtiráb) is neither dancing nor foot-play nor bodily indulgence, but a dissolution of the soul. Those who call it “dancing” are utterly wrong. It is a state that cannot be explained in words: “without experience no knowledge.”
Looking at youths (aḥdáth). Looking at youths and associating with them are forbidden practices, and anyone who declares this to be allowable is an unbeliever. The traditions brought forward in this matter are vain and foolish. I have seen ignorant persons who suspected the Ṣúfís of the crime in question and regarded them with abhorrence, and I observed that some have made it a religious rule (madhhabí). All the Ṣúfí Shaykhs, however, have recognized the wickedness of such practices, which the adherents of incarnation (ḥulúliyán)—may God curse them!—have left as a stigma on the saints of God and the aspirants to Ṣúfiism. But God knows best what is the truth.
Chapter on the Rending of Garments (fi ´l-kharq).
It is a custom of the Ṣúfís to rend their garments, and they have commonly done this in great assemblies where eminent Shaykhs were present. I have met with some theologians who objected to this practice and said that it is not right to tear an intact garment to pieces, and that this is an evil. I reply that an evil of which the purpose is good must itself be good. Anyone may cut an intact garment to pieces and sew it together again, e.g. detach the sleeves and body (tana) and gusset (tiríz) and collar from one another, and then restore the garment to its original condition; and there is no difference between tearing a garment into five pieces and tearing it into a hundred pieces. Besides, every piece gladdens the heart of a believer, when he sews it on his patched frock, and brings about the satisfaction of his desire. Although the rending of garments has no foundation in Ṣúfiism and certainly ought not to be practised in audition by anyone whose senses are perfectly controlled—for, in that case, it is mere extravagance—nevertheless, if the auditor be so overpowered that his sense of discrimination is lost and he becomes unconscious, then he may be excused (for tearing his garment to pieces); and it is allowable that all the persons present should rend their garments in sympathy with him. There are three circumstances in which Ṣúfís rend their garments: firstly, when a dervish tears his own garment to pieces through rapture caused by audition; secondly, when a number of his friends tear his garment to pieces at the command of a spiritual director on the occasion of asking God to pardon an offence; and thirdly, when they do the same in the intoxication of ecstasy. The most difficult case is that of the garment thrown off or torn in audition. It may be injured or intact. If it be injured, it should either be sewed together and given back to its owner or bestowed on another dervish or torn to pieces, for the sake of gaining a blessing, and divided among the members of the party. If it be intact, we have to consider what was the intention of the dervish who cast it off. If he meant it for the singer, let the singer take it; and if he meant it for the members of the party, let them have it; and if he threw it off without any intention, the spiritual director must determine whether it shall be given to those present and divided among them, or be conferred on one of them, or handed to the singer. If the dervish meant it for the singer, his companions need not throw off their garments in sympathy, because the cast-off garment will not go to his fellows and he will have given it voluntarily or involuntarily without their participation. But if the garment was thrown off with the intention that it should fall to the members of the party, or without any intention, they should all throw off their garments in sympathy; and when they have done this, the spiritual director ought not to bestow the garment on the singer, but it is allowable that any lover of God among them should sacrifice something that belongs to him and return the garment to the dervishes, in order that it may be torn to pieces and distributed. If a garment drops off while its owner is in a state of rapture, the Shaykhs hold various opinions as to what ought to be done, but the majority say that it should be given to the singer, in accordance with the Apostolic tradition: “The spoils belong to the slayer;” and that not to give it to the singer is to violate the obligations imposed by Ṣúfiism. Others contend—and I prefer this view—that, just as some theologians are of opinion that the dress of a slain man should not be given to his slayer except by permission of the Imám, so, here, this garment should not be given to the singer except by command of the spiritual director. But if its owner should not wish the spiritual director to bestow it, let no one be angry with him.
Chapter on the Rules of Audition.
The rules of audition prescribe that it should not be practised until it comes (of its own accord), and that you must not make a habit of it, but practise it seldom, in order that you may not cease to hold it in reverence. It is necessary that a spiritual director should be present during the performance, and that the place should be cleared of common people, and that the singer should be a respectable person, and that the heart should be emptied of worldly thoughts, and that the disposition should not be inclined to amusement, and that every artificial effort (takalluf) should be put aside. You must not exceed the proper bounds until audition manifests its power, and when it has become powerful you must not repel it but must follow it as it requires: if it agitates, you must be agitated, and if it calms, you must be calm; and you must be able to distinguish a strong natural impulse from the ardour of ecstasy (wajd). The auditor must have enough perception to be capable of receiving the Divine influence and of doing justice to it. When its might is manifested on his heart he must not endeavour to repel it, and when its force is broken he must not endeavour to attract it. While he is in a state of emotion, he must neither expect anyone to help him nor refuse anyone’s help if it be offered. And he must not disturb anyone who is engaged in audition or interfere with him, or ponder what he means by the verse (to which he is listening),[[201]] because such behaviour is very distressing and disappointing to the person who is trying (to hear). He must not say to the singer, “You chant sweetly;” and if he chants unmelodiously or distresses his hearer by reciting poetry unmetrically, he must not say to him, “Chant better!” or bear malice towards him, but he must be unconscious of the singer’s presence and commit him to God, who hears correctly. And if he have no part in the audition which is being enjoyed by others, it is not proper that he should look soberly on their intoxication, but he must keep quiet with his own “time” (waqt) and establish its dominion, that the blessings thereof may come to him. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, think it more desirable that beginners should not be allowed to attend musical concerts (samá`há), lest their natures become depraved. These concerts are extremely dangerous and corrupting, because women on the roofs or elsewhere look at the dervishes who are engaged in audition; and in consequence of this the auditors have great obstacles to encounter. Or it may happen that a young reprobate is one of the party, since some ignorant Ṣúfís have made a religion (madhhab) of all this and have flung truth to the winds. I ask pardon of God for my sins of this kind in the past, and I implore His help, that He may preserve me both outwardly and inwardly from contamination, and I enjoin the readers of this book to hold it in due regard and to pray that the author may believe to the end and be vouchsafed the vision of God (in Paradise).
[181]. After a further eulogy of the inimitable style of the Koran, the author relates the story of `Umar’s conversion.
[182]. The chapter of the Spoils, a title given to the eighth chapter of the Koran.
[183]. Here the author quotes a number of Koranic verses in which the faithful are enjoined to listen heedfully to the recitation of the sacred volume, or are rebuked for their want of attention.
[184]. I have omitted here a story related by Abú Sa`íd al-Khudrí concerning Muḥammad’s interview with a party of destitute refugees (muhájirún), to whom the Koran was being read.
[185]. BI. Abú Juhayn, J. Abú Juhaní.
[186]. Sha`rání, Ṭabaqát al-Kubrá, i, 60.
[187]. Ibn Khallikán, No. 1.
[188]. B. al-Rashíd.
[189]. Aghání, 5, 52-131.
[190]. The vizier of Khusraw Núshírwán, the great Sásánian king of Persia (531-78 A.D.).
[191]. The Book of Audition.
[192]. “The followers of Tradition” as opposed to “the followers of Opinion” (ahl-i ra´y).
[193]. See Professor Browne’s Literary History of Persia, i, 81.
[194]. Abú Nuwás, Die Weinlieder, ed. by Ahlwardt, No. 29, verse 1.
[195]. εὐαγγέλιον.
[196]. The mountains referred to are the Jabal al-Buttam, to the east of Samarcand. See G. Le Strange, The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate, p. 467.
[197]. IJ. Duqqí. Qushayrí, who relates this story (184, 22), has “al-Raqqí”. The nisba Duqqí refers to Abú Bakr Muḥammad al-Dínawarí (Nafaḥát, No. 229), while Raqqí probably denotes Ibráhím b. Dáwud al-Raqqí (ibid., No. 194).
[198]. Nafaḥát, No. 207.
[199]. So Qushayrí. The Persian texts have القرطى or القرظى. In the commentary on Qushayrí by Zakariyyá al-Anṣárí the name is written al-Fúṭí.
[200]. Apparently a mistake for Aḥmad b. Muḥammad. See Nafaḥát, No. 83.
[201]. The text of this clause is uncertain. I have followed B.’s reading, ú murád-i úrá badán bayt-i ú bi-na-sanjad, but I am not sure that it will bear the translation given above. L. has badán niyyat-i ú, and J. badán nisbat-i ú.