THE MYSTICS OF ISLAM [Electronic resources] نسخه متنی

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THE MYSTICS OF ISLAM [Electronic resources] - نسخه متنی

Reynold A. Nicholson

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These principles depend ultimately on the Sufistic theory of the divine unity, as is shown by Shaqiq of Balkh in the following passage:

"There are three things which a man is bound to practise.
Whosoever neglects any one of them must needs neglect them all, and whosoever cleaves to any one of them must needs cleave to them all.
Strive, therefore, to understand, and consider heedfully,
"The first is this, that with your mind and your tongue and your actions you declare God to be One; and that,

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having declared Him to be One, and having declared that none benefits you or harms you except Him, you devote all your actions to Him alone.
If you act a single jot of your actions for the sake of another, your thought and speech are corrupt, since your motive in acting for another's sake must be hope or fear; and when you act from hope or fear of other than God, who is the lord and sustainer of all things, you have taken to yourself another god to honour and venerate.
"Secondly, that while you speak and act in the sincere belief that there is no God except Him, you should trust Him more than the world or money or uncle or father or mother or any one on the face of the earth.
"Thirdly, when you have established these two things, namely, sincere belief in the unity of God and trust in Him, it behoves you to be satisfied with Him and not to be angry on account of anything that vexes you.
Beware of anger! Let your heart be with Him always, let it not be withdrawn from Him for a single moment.
"

The 'trusting' Sufi has no thought beyond the present hour.
On one occasion Shaqiq asked those who sat listening to his discourse:

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* * *

"If God causes you to die to-day, think ye that He will demand from you the prayers of to-morrow?" They answered: "No; how should He demand from us the prayers of a day on which we are not alive?" Shaqiq said: "Even as He will not demand from you the prayers of to-morrow, so do ye not seek from Him the provender of to-morrow.
It may be that ye will not live so long.
"

In view of the practical consequences of attempting to live 'on trust,' it is not surprising to read the advice given to those who would perfectly fulfil the doctrine: "Let them dig a grave and bury themselves.
" Later Sufis hold that active exertion for the purpose of obtaining the means of subsistence is quite compatible with 'trust,' according to the saying of the Prophet, "Trust in God and tie the camel's leg.
" They define tawakkul as an habitual state of mind, which is impaired only by self-pleasing thoughts; e.
g.
it was accounted a breach of 'trust' to think Paradise a more desirable place than Hell.

What type of character is such a theory likely to produce? At the worst, a useless drone and hypocrite preying upon his fellow-creatures; at the best, a harmless dervish who remains unmoved in the midst of sorrow, meets praise and blame with equal

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indifference, and accepts insults, blows, torture, and death as mere incidents in the eternal drama of destiny.
This cold morality, however, is not the highest of which Sufism is capable.
The highest morality springs from nothing but love, when self-surrender becomes self-devotion.
Of that I shall have something to say in due time.

Among the positive elements in the Sufi discipline there is one that Moslem mystics unanimously regard as the keystone of practical religion.
I refer to the dhikr, an exercise well known to Western readers from the careful description given by Edward Lane in his Modern Egyptians, and by Professor D.
B.
Macdonald in his recently published Aspects of Islam.
The term dhikr--'recollection' seems to me the most appropriate equivalent in English--signifies 'mentioning,' 'remembering,' or simply 'thinking of'; in the Koran the Faithful are commanded to "remember God often," a plain act of worship without any mystical savour.
But the Sufis made a practice of repeating the name of God or some religious formula, e.
g.
"Glory to Allah" (subhan Allah), "There is no god but Allah" (la ilaha illa llah), accompanying the mechanical intonation with an intense concentration of every faculty upon the single word or phrase; and they attach greater value to this irregular

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litany, which enables them to enjoy uninterrupted communion with God, than to the five services of prayer performed, at fixed hours of the day and night, by all Moslems.
Recollection may be either spoken or silent, but it is best, according to the usual opinion, that tongue and mind should co-operate.
Sahl ibn Abdallah bade one of his disciples endeavour to say "Allah! Allah!" the whole day without intermission.
When he had acquired the habit of doing so, Sahl instructed him to repeat the same words during the night, until they came forth from his lips even while he was asleep.
"Now," said he, "be silent and occupy yourself with recollecting them.
" At last the disciple's whole being was absorbed by the thought of Allah.
One day a log fell on his head, and the words "Allah, Allah" were seen written in the blood that trickled from the wound.

Ghazali describes the method and effects of dhikr in a passage which Macdonald has summarised as follows:

"Let him reduce his heart to a state in which the existence of anything and its non-existence are the same to him.
Then let him sit alone in some corner, limiting his religious duties to what is absolutely necessary, and not occupying himself either with reciting the Koran or considering its meaning or with

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books of religious traditions or with anything of the sort.
And let him see to it that nothing save God most High enters his mind.
Then, as he sits in solitude, let him not cease saying continuously with his tongue, 'Allah, Allah,' keeping his thought on it.
At last he will reach a state when the motion of his tongue will cease, and it will seem as though the word flowed from it.
Let him persevere in this until all trace of motion is removed from his tongue, and he finds his heart persevering in the thought.
Let him still persevere until the form of the word, its letters and shape, is removed from his heart, and there remains the idea alone, as though clinging to his heart, inseparable from it.
So far, all is dependent on his will and choice; but to bring the mercy of God does not stand in his will or choice.
He has now laid himself bare to the breathings of that mercy, and nothing remains but to await what God will open to him, as God has done after this manner to prophets and saints.
If he fo11ows the above course, he may be sure that the light of the Real will shine out in his heart.
At first unstable, like a flash of lightning, it turns and returns; though sometimes it hangs back.
And if it returns, sometimes it

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abides and sometimes it is momentary.
And if it abides, sometimes its abiding is long, and sometimes short.
"

Another Sufi puts the gist of the matter in a sentence, thus:

"The first stage of dhikr is to forget self, and the last stage is the effacement of the worshipper in the act of worship, without consciousness of worship, and such absorption in the object of worship as precludes return to the subject thereof.
"

Recollection can be aided in various ways.
When Shibli was a novice, he went daily into a cellar, taking with him a bundle of sticks.
If his attention flagged, he would beat himself until the sticks broke, and sometimes the whole bundle would be finished before evening; then he would dash his hands and feet against the wall.
The Indian practice of inhaling and exhaling the breath was known to the Sufis of the ninth century and was much used afterwards.
Among the Dervish Orders music, singing, and dancing are favourite means of inducing the state of trance called 'passing-away' (fana), which, as appears from the definition quoted above, is the climax and raison d'être of the method.

In 'meditation' (muraqabat) we recognise a form of self-concentration similar to the Buddhistic dhyana and samadhi.
This is

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what the Prophet meant when he said, "Worship God as though thou sawest Him, for if thou seest Him not, yet He sees thee.
" Anyone who feels sure that God is always watching over him will devote himself to meditating on God, and no evil thoughts or diabolic suggestions will find their way into his heart.
Nuri used to meditate so intently that not a hair on his body stirred.
He declared that he had learned this habit from a cat which was observing a mouse-hole, and that she was far more quiet than he.
Abu Said ibn Abi l-Khayr kept his eyes fixed on his navel.
It is said that the Devil is smitten with epilepsy when he approaches a man thus occupied, just as happens to other men when the Devil takes possession of them.

This chapter will have served its purpose if it has brought before my readers a clear view of the main lines on which the preparatory training of the Sufi is conducted.
We must now imagine him to have been invested by his Sheykh with the patched frock (muraqqaat or khirqat), which is an outward sign that he has successfully emerged from the discipline of the 'Path,' and is now advancing with uncertain steps towards the Light, as when toil-worn travellers, having gained the summit of a deep gorge, suddenly catch glimpses of the sun and cover their eyes.



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CHAPTER II


ILLUMINATION AND ECSTASY


GOD, who is described in the Koran as "the Light of the heavens and the earth," cannot be seen by the bodily eye.
He is visible only to the inward sight of the 'heart.
' In the next chapter we shall return to this spiritual organ, but I am not going to enter into the intricacies of Sufi psychology any further than is necessary.
The 'vision of the heart' (ruyat al-qalb) is defined as "the heart's beholding by the light of certainty that which is hidden in the unseen world.
" This is what Ali meant when he was asked, "Do you see God?" and replied: "How should we worship One whom we do not see?" The light of intuitive certainty (yaqin) by which the heart sees God is a beam of God's own light cast therein by Himself; else no vision of Him were possible.

"'Tis the sun's self that lets the sun be seen.
"

According to a mystical interpretation of the famous passage in the Koran where the light of Allah is compared to a candle

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burning in a lantern of transparent glass, which is placed in a niche in the wall, the niche is the true believer's heart; therefore his speech is light and his works are light and he moves in light.
"He who discourses of eternity," said Bayazid, "must have within him the lamp of eternity.
"

The light which gleams in the heart of the illuminated mystic endows him with a supernatural power of discernment (firasat).
Although the Sufis, like all other Moslems, acknowledge Mohammed to be the last of the prophets (as, from a different point of view, he is the Logos or first of created beings), they really claim to possess a minor form of inspiration.
When Nuri was questioned concerning the origin of mystical firasat, he answered by quoting the Koranic verse in which God says that He breathed His spirit into Adam; but the more orthodox Sufis, who strenously combat the doctrine that the human spirit is uncreated and eternal, affirm that firasat is the result of knowledge and insight, metaphorically called 'light' or 'inspiration,' which God creates and bestows upon His favourites.
The Tradition, "Beware of the discernment of the true believer, for he sees by the light of Allah," is exemplified in such anecdotes as these:

Abu Abdallah al-Razi said:

"Ibn al-Anbari presented me with a

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woollen frock, and seeing on the head of Shibli a bonnet that would just match it, I conceived the wish that they were both mine.
When Shibli rose to depart, he looked at me, as he was in the habit of doing when he desired me to follow him.
So I followed him to his house, and when we had gone in, he bade me put off the frock and took it from me and folded it and threw his bonnet on the top.
Then he called for a fire and burnt both frock and bonnet.
"

Sari al-Saqati frequently urged Junayd to speak in public, but Junayd was unwilling to consent, for he doubted whether he was worthy of such an honour.
One Friday night he dreamed that the Prophet appeared and commanded him to speak to the people.
He awoke and went to Sari's house before daybreak, and knocked at the door.
Sari opened the door and said: "You would not believe me until the Prophet came and told you.
"

Sahl ibn Abdallah was sitting in the congregational mosque when a pigeon, overcome by the intense heat, dropped on the floor.
Sahl exclaimed: "Please God, Shah al-Kirmani has just died.
" They wrote it down, and it was found to be true.

When the heart is purged of sin and evil thoughts, the light of certainty strikes upon

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it and makes it a shining mirror, so that the Devil cannot approach it without being observed.
Hence the saying of some gnostic: "If I disobey my heart, I disobey God.
" It was a man thus illuminated to whom the Prophet said: "Consult thy heart, and thou wilt hear the secret ordinance of God proclaimed by the heart's inward knowledge, which is real faith and divinity"--something much better than the learning of divines.
I need not anticipate here the question, which will be discussed in the following chapter, how far the claims of an infallible conscience are reconcilable with external religion and morality.
The Prophet, too, prayed that God would put a light into his ear and into his eye; and after mentioning the different members of his body, he concluded, "and make the whole of me one light.
" {The reader should be reminded that most, if not all, mystical Traditions ascribed to Mohammed were forged and fathered upon him by the Sufis, who represent themselves as the true interpreters of his esoteric teaching.
} From illumination of gradually increasing splendour, the mystic rises to contemplation of the divine attributes, and ultimately, when his consciousness is wholly melted away, he becomes transubstantiated (tajawhara) in the radiance of the divine essence.
This is the 'station' of well-doing (ihsan)--for "God is with the well-doers" (Kor.
29.
69
), and we have

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Prophetic authority for the statement that "well-doing consists in worshipping God as though thou wert seeing Him.
"

I will not waste the time and abuse the patience of my readers by endeavouring to classify and describe these various grades of illumination, which may be depicted symbolically but cannot be explained in scientific language.
We must allow the mystics to speak for themselves.
Granted that their teaching is often hard to understand, it conveys more of the truth than we can ever hope to obtain from analysis and dissection.

Here are two passages from the oldest Persian treatise on Sufism, the Kashf al-Mahjub of Hujwiri:

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