Turn Toward a Sacred Precinct Filled With Acceptance

‘Ā’isha al-Bā’ūnīyah (d. 1517) was a female Sufi master from Damascus, living in the twilight years of Mamluk rule and the very beginning of Ottoman control of the region. She is one of the most prolific, if not the most prolific, female Muslim writer in the pre-modern era, writing treatises, poetry, devotional literature, and the like, including a mawlid-text (a text in celebration of Muhammad’s birth) that would prove to be of enduring popularity. The following is a poem from her diwan that is representative of her deeply emotional and affective piety and poetic style.

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Mamluk-era polychrome tile (c. 1420-1459), Damascus.

When I sought union from the one I love,
His majesty replied that there was no path to Him.

So, I closed my eyes that had tried so hard to see Him,
while in my heart, desire burned with separation’s fire.

I was about to meet my death, when He was kind,
and sweetly spoke to my heart, saying:

‘If you want union from Us, be true to Us,
set aside all else, strive for Us, and be humble.

Leave yourself and come to Us with Our true love and grace.
Make that your means to Me.

Draw near to Us, be devoted to Us; don’t fear rejection.
Turn toward a sacred precinct filled with acceptance.

There, you will find providence draws you to Us,
bringing sweet union,

And you will leave there all but Us
and appear in a station where true men alight.

You will behold lights of power, and in their intensity,
the shadow of difference will go and disappear.

You will pass away, nothing to preserve you save Our splendor,
as you behold, truly, the climax of desire.

Then you will abide with Us, Our servant,
pure, chosen by Us for Our secrets forever!’

_______________________________

‘Ā’isha al-Bā’ūnīyah, Fayḍ al-Faḍl wa-Jam’ al-Shaml, translated by Th. Emil Homerin, in Emanations of Grace: Mystical Poems by ‘Ā’isha al-Bā’ūnīyah (Louisville: Fons Vitae, 2011), 64.

The Hermit of Ya’bad and His Marvelous Coffee and Good Counsel

In the course of the great Damascene mystic, savant, poet, and author ‘Abd al-Ghanī al-Nābulusī’s journeys- which he took with considerably frequency during the latter years of his life- he encountered many sorts of people from all walks of life, in both city and countryside. His impressions of rural life are especially precious, given his eye for detail and his sympathy and even reverence for rural religiosity and hospitality, a trait hardly universal among early modern literati anywhere in Eurasia, but quite characteristic of ‘Abd al-Ghanī. During his journey to Jerusalem in 1690, he encountered many majdhūb, ‘divinely attracted people,’ figures who are difficult to categorize in terms familiar to most Western readers (or modern-day readers in many places elsewhere for that matter). These people- who could be men, women, or children (or entire families, as ‘Abd al-Ghanī encounters in his journey)- could be similar to the ‘holy fools’ of the Orthodox tradition, though unlike holy fools they did not always embrace radical displays of disruptive piety. All however displayed signs of having been ‘attracted’ by the power of the Divine, in an unmerited, unsolicited manner. This ‘divine attraction,’ as I have translated it, could manifest itself in acts of transgressive piety, such as ignoring the dictates of the sharī’a or embracing extreme living standards or daily actions, like living on a garbage heap or carrying out highly eccentric actions in public. Despite their often extreme rejection of basic standards and social hierarchies they were seen as particularly potent instruments of divine grace and power, and hence not only not persecuted, but were often sought out for their divine baraka or blessing, by all ranks of society, ‘high’ and ‘low,’ literate and illiterate.

The majdhūb that ‘Abd al-Ghanī encounters in the below story is an excellent example. Originally a slave of African origins (and hence a reminder of the global status of the early modern trade in people from Africa), the man would become known as Shaykh Zā’id was seized by ‘divine attraction,’ which evidently quickly led to a change in his status and his embracing of an eremitical life, settling in a cave (miraculously generated according to a story ‘Abd al-Ghanī was told) on the outskirts of the Palestinian village of Ya’bad. The rest is fairly self-explanatory. Note however both the way in which social status could be remarkably disrupted and upended, as well as the role one of the quintessential early modern commodities, coffee, plays in the story, albeit in a surprising way.

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And it reached us in that village [of Ya’bad] that there was close by a black [freed] slave from among the divinely attracted lovers of God, whose name was Shaykh Zā’id, and he is in a cave there, at the foot of a small mountain. And it was reported to us that there used to not be a cave there, but one day he was present on the mountain and the cave appeared for him. So we went to visit him, and we entered into his cave. It is a small cave, with lots of niches all around the walls, none of which open to the outside. And he was inside sitting on the ground, and he had a small mortar made of wood with which he ground coffee beans, and a small iron coffee roaster. No one who visited him leaves without him giving them coffee to drink. And he makes the coffee from anything that he has on hand, from wheat, barley, from scraps [of coffee?], and chickpeas—but no one who visits him drinks it without it being excellent coffee! And it was related to us that if he needs firewood, he will, with little effort, pluck out a great tree and break it down with his own hand, bring the wood back and place it in his cave.

And when we entered we greeted him, and he returned the greeting. He is a black freed slave who prefers silence and solitude; Shaykh Muṣlaḥ of the aforementioned village had told us that he used to be the slave of some of the people of that village, and he used to shepherd animals for them. But then this divine attraction (al-jadhb) occured in him, he abandoned shepherding, and his master manumitted him. He used to return at times the village after the death of his former master, but then he settled in this cave and the people began paying visits to him in it. People from every place seek him out, believe in him, seek blessing from his words, and ask advice from him about their affairs. I asked him about the condition of my brothers and of the group of people traveling with me to Jerusalem, and he replied: ‘They are in grace and good through you.’ And he mentioned to us many words in which were good tidings to us and favorable end for our goal, and peace and safety.

And when we went in to visit him there was with us a young divinely attracted man from among the divinely attracted folk of Damascus, whom we have mentioned previously. When that divinely attracted one went in to him and spoke with him, he laughed greatly. He then said that he was tired, so we recited the Fātiḥa, paid our regards, and departed.

‘Abd al-Ghanī al-Nābulusī, al-Ḥaḍrah al-unsīyah fī al-riḥlah al-Qudsīyah, Bayrūt, Lubnān: al-Maṣādir, 1990, 66-7.

Translating Dhikr

The following is an excerpt from a letter sent by ‘Abd al-Ghanī al-Nābulusī (on whom and his letter writing see a previous post) to a friend of his living in the Ottoman town of Hayrabolu (in modern-day Turkey), one Ibrāhīm Efendī, in March of 1680. It concerns the practice of dhikr- remembrance- of God: its form, its effect, and its proper ‘translation,’ both into the letter recipient’s native tongue (in this case Turkish), and into right understanding of the role of the practioner vis-a-vis God. As such it is a good snapshot of how ‘Abd al-Ghanī envisioned the ‘mechanics’ of spiritual practice working in the practioner, including a glimpse into the real-world application of spiritual advice.

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Persist in the dhikr of Sahl ibn ‘Abdallah al-Tustarī, God be pleased with him, which his shaykh invested him with and through which he attained to God in four days, with your observation adhering to its meaning in each moment. Then you will be benefited greatly by that, God willing. The dhikr of Sahl, God be pleased with him, is: ‘God is with me, God looks towards me, God is present to me.’ And if you translate it for yourself into the Turkish language, with words that make attention to its meaning easy for you, and so remember God by them, that is excellent. And it is thus when you pay heed to it with your heart but your tongue does not speak it. The intended goal is that there be no straining (takalluf) in yourself and in your thoughts for the flow of the remembrance of God (dhikr Allāh), and that you practice dhikr in every condition. Do not practice His dhikr believing that is you doing it under your own strength, rather, believe that it is He who is remembering Himself by means of your tongue and heart.

As God said: ‘God’s remembrance is greater,’ (Q. 29.45), which is an example of the attribution of the maṣdar [verbal noun] to its doer; that is, greater than the canonical prayer which is the dhikr of the servant towards his Lord. For indeed you are in His hand, in the disposition of His power, and He remembers Himself through you as He wills, and He makes your heart heedless of Him as He wills. Do not depend upon any but Him, and do not prop any of your affairs upon any but Him; do not imagine that any will benefit you other than Him, and do not believe that any can strike you other than Him. Be with Him by means of nothing else, and be in everything through Him. So stand upright and persist in that, and do not be displeased concerning His judgments over you, nor from the effect of His disposition in you. Be patient with the judgment of your Lord, and do not say, ‘He will not bestow good upon me.’ If He inclines thus for you, He will bestow good upon you in accordance with what He wills, not in accordance with what you will. If He wills, He will convey you in the moment, from state to state, and in a flash wholeness will come.

I have presented you with good advice, but it is God who is responsible for your guidance, for He is your Master. Do not fail to report about yourself to me, O brother, and write to me concerning everything that concerns your religious affairs, for I am the servant of this path, for the good of people. Peace in perpetuity!

‘Abd al-Ghanī al-Nābulusī, Risāla 6, in Wasā’il al-taḥqīq wa rasā’il al-tawfīq, edited by Samer Akkach, in Letters of Sufi Scholar (Leiden: Brill, 2010),150-151.

On Service to One’s Shaykh

The below brief text is excerpted from a short Ottoman Turkish manual of Sufism by Mahmut Hüdayı, an important shaykh, and indeed early organizer, of the Celvetiyye ṭarīqa, the adherents of which mostly lived in the Anatolian and Rumelian parts of the Ottoman domains. Much of Mahmut Hüdayı’s output was in Arabic, but a substantial number were in Ottoman Turkish- not quite a colloquial register, but more likely to be read and understood by a wider number of people in Anatolia and Rumelia.

This passage is emblematic of one of the prevailing themes in the work from which it is excerpted: the importance of having a shaykh (in this context, a spiritual master/instructor) and being constant in honoring and obeying him. While such sentiments were hardly new in Sufism in the sixteenth century, there were also a seemingly increasing number of people who contested, explicitly or implicitly, the authority and knowledge of living shaykhs. By the eighteenth century it is easy to find many people practicing what was essentially a ‘privatized’ mystical Islam, with little need for a shaykh or regular communal life. Such a possibility is clearly not in view for Mahmut Hüdayı, however- quite the opposite, as is clear from the following passage.

If the shaykh enjoins as a duty any service (khidmet, mod. Turkish hizmet), [the disciple] ought to carry that service out, without delay, without adding any other business to it, without asking for explanation of cause or detail, and without stopping. It is related about a shaykh that he asked one of his disciples: ‘If your shaykh sent you off to do some service, and on the way you passed by a mosque in which they were performing congregational ritual prayers, what would you do?’

The disciple answered, ‘First, I would carry out that service, then I would perform the ritual prayers.’ The shayhk commended his answer. The intended moral from this [antecdote] is the bestowal of great care in service [to one’s shaykh]; it is not, God forbid, the disparagement of ritual prayer!

Mahmut Hüdayı, 1543 or 1544-1628, Ṭarīqat-nāme, Princeton Islamic Manuscripts, New Series no. 307, fol. 128-129.

Journeying Through the Veils

The below passage is from an introductory ‘handbook’ of Sufism in Arabic by the seventeenth century Aleppine Sufi Qāsim al-Khānī (d. 1697). His description here is hardly original, rather, it represents the shifting through and representation of centuries of Sufi thought and practice. At times his writings reflect a concern with theological ‘deviance,’ a particularly acute concern for Sufis like him who sought to defend and perpetuate the long tradition of Sufism- including the many theo-philosophical developments of the thirteenth century, such as those associated with Ibn ‘Arabi. Many of these beliefs and practices came under increasing scrutiny in the Ottoman Empire and elsewhere from the sixteenth century onward, even if such critiques did not become truly mainstream until much closer to our own age. al-Khānī seeks to defend such beliefs as ‘oneness of being,’ while also decrying allegedly incorrect interpretations of such beliefs, for instance here:

That which benefits the wayfarer in his journey is witnessing (shuhūd) of oneness of being not its gnosis. Witnessing is a state (ḥāla) necessarily realized from struggle, privation, successive exercise, lowliness, poverty, and need. And this state does not benefit the wayfarer unless there is with it following of the Shari’a, for if there is not with it following of the Shari’a, then it is damning zandiqa [heresy or deviance].

The passage below is less concerned with fending off theological error; rather, it presents a pretty traditional Sufi understanding of spiritual journeying: the passage through successive ranks of ‘veils’ preventing human cognizance and connection with God. As it is written in a straight-forward, pedagogically-inclined manner, I will leave off further commentary of this fine example of early modern Sufi teaching.

And the greatest of the veils that are between the servant and his Lord are the veils of sins, because they are darkness. As for veils other than them, to be sure the servant should hasten to dispel them, although they are luminescent, not totally veiling the servant. For the likeness of the veil constituted by sins is the likeness of an encompassing wall between you and your goal, and you cannot see essence or trace, due to its preventing, nor shape—which is different from the luminescent veils. They are like glass, with what is behind them being seen, obscuring and revealing by their increase or decrease. If the glass is increased greatly, then the intended object behind it is hidden, though the hiddenness of what is behind the wall is not the case here—at least the shape of the object can be discerned. All of this is what can be seen with the eye of the senses.

The heart is likewise. So long as its eye, which is called discernment (al-baṣīra) is veiled by the darkness of disobedience, which is called overcoming, imprinting, and sealing, it does not see anything of the lights of the Unseen, and has no awareness of what sin and evil does to it.

Then if one turns from what one is in, the veils of sins are lifted from his heart, and he beholds divine things, and begins to feel fear concerning his punishment, and hopes for reward, and persists in obedience to God, and turning away of evil deeds. Now he is veiled with luminescent veils, which are his dependence upon these deeds, for he now believes that he is the one who brings them into existence.

Then, after that, God lifts this veil from him, through the blessing (baraka) of acts of obedience, and he sees that the grace upon him belongs to God, for God causes him to be successful in these deeds, and that he is insufficient in giving thanks for them, and that the effective Giver is God. If God desires of someone good, he invests him with the garment of pious fear (taqwa) so as to make sound his presentation before His presence—and nothing of good or evil is by the hand of the servant, rather, all is by the hand of God.

Then, when this veil is lifted from his heart, he imagines that he has attained to God, for there is spiritual delight in this station. But if the hidden subtleties encompass him, this veil too is raised from him, and he does not cease cutting through the veils, one after another, as per the arrangement of stations and gates as in this book, until he attains to true station, the stopping place of the Most Veiled—so understand!

Do not believe, because of the likeness of the veils to panes of glass, that God is a thing which can be seen by the perceiving eye—for He is free of that. God take in hand your guidance!

Qāsim al-Khānī, al-Sayr wa al-sulūk ilā malik al-mulūk

Surah al-Kawthar: Sufi Tafsir: ibn ‘Ajiba

The tafsīr of the Moroccan Sufi Ahmad ibn ‘Ajība (b. 1747/8) is the most recent of the commentaries I am examing in this series, and because of that it is a good summation of the many centuries of exegetical tradition that preceded it, both in ‘mainstream’ Sunni tafsir and in Sufi mystical intepretation. At first glance, there is little to distinguish ibn ‘Ajība from his predecesors. He seems to be drawing heavily upon al-Baydawī (or al-Baydawī’s source, al-Zamakhsharī), with some expansions. However, there are some rather significant changes. For instance, we see that al-Sulamī’s story about Muhammad’s discontent has been included as part of the ‘exoteric’ commentary, and has been modified slightly. Ibn ‘Ajība includes brief grammatical explanations, taking care not to overburden the reader; he also includes an occasion of revelation story that we have not come across before, as well as brief speculation on the liturgical proscriptions inherent in this surah. He thus draws upon the wide variety of exegesis that had developed, paring it down and presenting the various elements in rapid succession.

Finally, of most significance is the final paragraph of the commentary, the ‘spiritual allusions.’ Here we see another form of Sufi exegesis, but in a very different order from al-Sulamī’s. Instead of the usual process of dividing the surah into lemmas (individual lines or units) and presenting various exegetical authorities and opinions, line by line, our author interprets the surah through a process of interpolation, flowing from phrase to phrase. He expands the verse using Sufi doctrines and concepts, uniting the scriptural words seamlessly with mystical language and experience.

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The Truth [God], His strength is mighty, said: ‘Verily, we gave to you al-kawthar.’ That is: abundance of goodness, the one [Muhammad] whom universal prophethood exalts possesses the good of both worlds, universal headship, and the happiness of this world and the next. [The word al-kawthar is of the form] faw’al from [the word] al-kathira. And it is said: it is a river in the Garden, sweeter than honey, whiter than milk, colder than snow, softer than foam. Its two brims are of pearls and chrysolite, and its [drinking] vessels are of silver, the number of the stars of heaven, and the one who drinks of it will never be thirsty, and the one coming to drink it returns. Two of the Immigrants recited, [they are of] dirty clothes, unkempt hair, those who are not wedded to the graces [of God?], and He does not open to them the gates of intensity [?]- that is: the gates of the kings- due to their weakness. One of them dies, and his necessity stammers inside his chest- if he swore by God, let him fulfill it. [These last couple of sentences remain opaque to me. There seems to be some reference to something which I am missing…]

And ibn ‘Abbās interpreted it as abundance of good, and it was said to him: verily people say: it is a river in Paradise. So he said: The river is part of that good. And it is said: it is abudance of his children and descendents, or the ‘ulamā’ of his community, or the Qur’ān providing the good of this world and the next.

And it is related: That the Prophet, peace and prayer be upon him, said: ‘O Lord, You took Ibrahim as a friend, and Musa as a spokesman- so how am I special?’ So [this verse] descended: ‘Did He not find you an orphan then give [you] shelter?’ But he was not satisfied with that, so there descended: ‘We gave you al-kawthar.’ But he was not satisfied with that, for it was due him lest he be satisfied, for contement from God is deprivation, and reliance upon [one spiritual] state cuts off the highest [spiritual state]. So Jibrīl descended, and said to the Prophet, peace and prayer be upon him: ‘God- blessed and exalted is He- greets you with peace, and says to you: “If I took Ibrahim as a friend, and Musa as spokesman, then I have taken you as a beloved one (habīban), and My counsel and my Strength are for the preference of My beloved over and beyond My friend and My spokesman.”’ So [Muhammad], peace and prayer be upon him, was content.

The [particle] fa’ in His saying ‘So pray (fa-sall) to your Lord and sacrifice’ is for the organization of what is after it in relation to what is before it, in that God, exalted is He, gave [Muhammad]- peace and prayer be upon him- what was mentioned of the gift which was not given to any one [else] in the world, deserving to the one commissioned by Him, that is, one deserving. That is: continue in prayer to your Lord- He who has poured out upon you this glorious grace, to which no [other] grace compares- purely devoted to His face, differing from the heedless hypocrites, so stand in the reality of gratitude for it, for verily the canonical prayer is a uniting of the various parts of gratitude. ‘And sacrifice’: the torso (al-badn), which is the choice part of the goods of the Bedouin, and give alms to the needy, differing from him who repells them [the needy] and forbids them, forbidding from them small kindnesses. And on the authority of ‘Attīa: it is the canonical prayer of dawn in a gathering, and the sacrifice is in Mina, and it is said: [it is] the prayer of the festival and of the sacrifical animal. It is said: it is the kind of prayer, and ‘the sacrifice’ is the placing of the right [hand] upon the left, under his sacrifice. It is said: it is that one raise his hands during the ‘God is great’, towards his sacrifice. And according to ibn ‘Abbās: face the qibla with your sacrifice, that is, during the ritual prayer. Al-Fara’ and al-Kalbī [also] say this.

‘Verily, he who hates you’: that is, the one who despises you, whoever he may be, ‘he is cut off’: he who has no descendent, when there does not subsist for him lineage, no glorification of remembrance- but as for you [Muhammad], your progeny remains, your fame is glorified, and your virtue praised, up to the day of the Resurrection. Because all who are begotten of the Muslims are your sons and your descendants, your remembrance is lifted up in the minbars, and is upon the tongue of every scholar and mystic, to the end of the age. One begins with the remembrance of God, and one gives praise through your remembrance. You possess in the next world what is not described in the Qur’an, and one cut off does not speak of even your likeness, rather, the one cut off, he who hates you, is forgotten in this world and the next.

It is said: [the verse] descended regarding al-‘As ibn Wā’al, who used to call the Prophet, peace and prayer be upon him, ‘cut off,’ after [Muhammad’s] son, ‘Abd Allāh, died. He stopped [to speak] with the Prophet, peace and prayer be upon him, and it was said to him: ‘With whom did you stop to speak?’ He said: ‘With that cut-off one.’ So Quraysh called him cut-off and one solitary without descendants. And when Ka’ab ibn al-Ashra- God curse him!- preceded to Mekka, and Quraysh agitated against [Muhammad], peace and prayer be upon him, saying to [Ka’ab]: ‘We are the people of al-Saqāya and al-Sadāna, and you are the master of the people of al-Medīna- so are we better, or is that cut-off solitary one without descendants of your people [better]?’ He answered: ‘You are better,’ so [the following verse] descended regarding Ka’ab: ‘Have you not looked to those to whom half of the Book was given, who believe in al-Jibat and al-Tāghūt…?’ (al-Nisa’, 51) And [the following verse] descended regarding them, ‘Verily, he who hates you, he is cut off.’

Spiritual allusions: it is said to the successor (khalīfa) of the Messenger, he who is molded after [Muhammad’s] innate characterstics and follows after him: ‘We gave you al-kawthar,’ abundance of good, because whoever obtains gnosis of God has gained the entire good. ‘He who has found You, what is he deprived of?’ [Ibn ‘Attā Allāh, Kitāb al-Hikam, Munājāt 26] ‘So pray to your Lord’ the prayer of the heart, ‘and sacrifice’ yourself and your passions. ‘Verily he who hates you’ and despises you, ‘he is cut off,’ and as for you, your remembrance continues, and your life is not cut off, because the death of the people of piety is life without annihilation afterwards. And Junayd said: ‘“He who hates you, he is cut off”: that is, cut off from attaining hope in You.’

May God pray for our master Muhammad and his house!