Ahmad al-Ghazali, Remembrance, and the Metaphysics of Love
JOSEPH
E. B. LUMBARD
For Alexis
“Love
is not love
which alters when it alteration finds,
or bends with the remover to remove.”
This book derives from a doctoral dissertation submitted
to Yale University’s Department of Religious Studies. I am deeply indebted to
my dissertation advisor, Gerhard Bowering, who first suggested this topic and
saw the project through to completion. I must also thank Seyyed Hossein Nasr,
under whom I completed an MA thesis on Abu Hamid al-Ghazali and who first
introduced me to the fields of Islamic Studies and Sufi Studies. Beatrice
Gruendler served as a meticulous reader for the dissertation and provided the
overall structure that I have maintained in the final book. As a reader for the
dissertation, William Chittick provided many excellent suggestions. His
thorough critique of the revised manuscript many years later was invaluable.
Neither the dissertation nor this book would have been
possible without Mohammed Musavi, who spent many hours guiding me through the
allusive works of Ahmad Ghazali and other luminaries of the Persian Sufi
tradition. Mohammed Faghfoory’s guidance in first approaching these works was
also invaluable. Nasrollah Pourjavady has served as an excellent sounding board
for various ideas over the years. Without the foundations he established, this
book would not have been possible. James Morris has been a source of insight
and encouragement for many years.
Ryan Brizendine, Caner Dagli, Atif Khalil, Shankar Nair,
Mohammed Rustom, Walid Saleh, and Laury Silvers all provided valuable input at
various stages along the way. Three anonymous reviewers from SUNY Press made
excellent suggestions and caught many mistakes. Any errors that remain are of
course my own.
Last but not least, my heartfelt thanks go to my family.
My mother has supported me through every success and every failure. My
grandfather provided an atmosphere for study and contemplation when this
project first began. My father instilled in me a love for poetry that led to
this study and enriched my life in many ways. My sister has endured the
peculiarities of having an academic for a sibling and done her part to keep me
in touch with "the real world." My daughters Layla, Rayhan, and Tasneem
have successfully delayed this project many times over, giving me much time to
reconsider and deepen my understanding. My wife Alexis has made innumerable
sacrifices to support me and has improved my writing in many ways. This book is
dedicated to her.
The name al-Ghazali rings through the annals of Islamic
intellectual history. Many who know little about the Islamic tradition have
heard of al-Ghazali, and most whose professional lives are dedicated to the
study of Islam, especially its intellectual sciences, have encountered this
name in one form or another. For the vast majority, it is the name of Imam Abu
Hamid Muhammad b. Muhammad al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111) with which they are
familiar. Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali had an enduring influence on philosophy,
theology, and jurisprudence that forever changed the course of these
disciplines. Muslims of different eras and varying ethnicities have seen in his
writings the tools for a revival of the basic piety of Muslim life.1
Given the extent of his influence, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali is arguably the most
eminent intellectual in Islamic history. All of the attention received by Imam
Abu Hamid al-Ghazali has, however, overshadowed the contributions of his
younger brother, Shaykh Ahmad b. Muhammad al-Ghazali (d. 517/1123 or 520/1126),
who, as an influential Sufi Shaykh and important figure in the early
development of Persian Sufi literature, is more renowned for his spiritual
attainment and instruction than for his achievements in the religious sciences.
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s Sawanih (Inspirations) is one
of the earliest extant Persian treatises to be written on Sufism, preceded only
by the Sharh-i taarruf li-madhhab-i tasawwuf (Explanation of the
Introduction to the Sufi Way) of Isma’il b. Muhammad al-Mustamli (d.
434/1042-3), the Kashf al-mahjub (Unveiling of the Veiled) of ’Ali b.
’Uthman al-Hujwiri (d. 465/1073 or 469/1077), and several works of Khwajah
’Abdallah Ansari (d. 481/1089). There is clear evidence that Sufism was discussed
extensively in Persian before these treatises. Many scholars whose native
tongue was Persian, such as Abu ’Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami (d. 412/1021), Abu
Sa’id b. Abi’l-Khayr (d. 440/1049), and Abu’l-Qasim al-Qushayri (d. 465/1072),
were among the most influential Sufis before Ahmad al-Ghazali. But just as
Arabic was at this time the only language in which Islamic law and theology
were presented, so too did it dominate the textual presentation of Sufism. It
was, however, only a matter of time before the Persians availed themselves of
the natural poetic nature of their language to express the subtlest of Islamic
teachings. As William Chittick observes, "Persian pulls God’s beauty into
the world on the wings of angels. Persian poetry, which began its great flowering
in the eleventh century, shines forth with this angelic presence."2
Along with ’Abdallah Ansari a generation earlier, and his younger
contemporaries Sana’! of Ghaznah (d. 525/1131), Ahmad b. Mansur as-Sam’ani (d.
534/1140), author of Rawh al-arwah fi sharh asma} al-malik
al-fattah (The Repose of Spirits Regarding the Exposition of the Names of
the Conquering King), and Rashid ad-Din al-Maybudi (fl. sixth/twelfth
century), author of the ten-volume Quran commentary, Kashf al-asrar wa
‘uddat al-abrar (The Unveiling of Secrets and the Provision of the Pious),
Ahmad al-Ghazali stands at the forefront of the Persian Sufi tradition.
Written in the first decade of the sixth Islamic
century, the Sawanih is the first recorded treatise in the history of
Islam to present a full metaphysics of love, in which love is seen as the
ultimate reality from which all else derives and all that derives from it is
seen as an intricate play between lover and beloved, who are themselves laid to
naught before love.3 For this reason, Leonard Lewisohn refers to the
Sawanih as "the founding text of the School of Love in Sufism and
the tradition of love poetry in Persian,"4 and Leili Anvar
affirms that the Sawanih is "justly considered as the founding text
of the School of Love in Sufism and the tradition of love poetry in
Persian."5 The centrality of love for the Sufi way was in many
ways inaugurated a generation before al-Ghazali in the works of ’Abdallah
Ansari, 42 Chapters (Chihil u du fasl), Intimate Discourses
(Munajat), and Treatise on Love (Mahabbat-nama). Nonetheless, the manner
in which love can also be envisioned as the ultimate origin of all that exists
is stated more directly in the Sawanih.6 While the precise
origins of this complete metaphysics of love may never be known, what is clear
is that Ahmad al-Ghazali was among the generation of authors who inaugurated
the Persian Sufi literary tradition as we know it today. As such leading
scholars of this tradition continue to declare, Ahmad al-Ghazali is "one
of the greatest expositors in Islam of the meaning of love."7
In addition to his literary influence, Ahmad al-Ghazali
is said to have received many disciples; among those mentioned are influential
political figures such as the Saljuq leader Mughith ad-Din al-Mahmud (r.
511-525/1118-1131), who ruled Iraq and western Persia, and his brother Ahmad
Sanjar (r. 513-552/1119-1157), who ruled Khurasan and northern Persia. But
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s influence as a Sufi shaykh is more important for the
initiatic chains (silsilahs) of the Sufi orders. As regards the
initiatic history of Sufism, Shaykh Diya’ ad-Din Abu’n-Najib as-Suhrawardi (d.
563/1186) is his most important disciple.8 It is not known just how
much contact al-Ghazali had with as-Suhrawardi, but it appears that al-Ghazali
held him in high regard and appointed him as his representative (khalifah)
while they were together in Isfahan.9 Abu’n-Najib’s most famous
disciple is his nephew Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234), author of
the famous ‘Awarif al-ma‘arif (Gifts of the Gnostics), which is employed
as a manual of Sufi practice to this day, and the founder of the Suhrawardiyyah
Sufi order, which spread throughout the Muslim world.10 The
Suhrawardiyyah gave rise to other orders such as the Zayniyyah, which spread
throughout the Ottoman Empire among other places and still exists in Turkey.
Along with the Chishtiyyah, Naqshbandiyyah, and Qadiriyyah, the Suhrawardiyyah
is one of the most influential orders in the history of India and Pakistan.11
While it has died out in most parts of the Arab world, the Suhrawardiyyah is
still active in Iraq and Syria.12
Three of Abu’n-Najib as-Suhrawardi’s disciples, Isma'il
al-Qasri (d. 589/1193), 'Ammar b. Yasir al-Bidlisi (d. 582/1186), and Ruzbihan
al-Wazzan al-Misri (d. 584/1188), are said to have collaborated in the
spiritual development of the eponymous founder of the Kubrawiyyah Sufi order,
Najm ad-Din Kubra (d. 618/1221).13 This order spread throughout the
region of Khwarazm into Persia, Afghanistan, India, and China. The Kubrawiyyah
still exists with khanqahs in present day Iran, though its influence has
diminished substantially. Among the Sufi orders that issued from the
Kubrawiyyah are the Firdawsiyyah, the Hamadaniyyah, and the Ya'qubiyyah, all of
which still exist in India, as well as the Dhahabiyyah in Iran.14
Among the later luminaries of the Kubrawiyyah are such
figures as Najm ad-Din Daya Razi (d. 654/1256), who either revised or extended
Kubra's Quran commentary, Ayn al-hayat (The Spring of Life),15
which goes to the seventeenth and eighteenth verses of Surah 51 (adh-Dhariyat)
under the title of Bahr al-haqa}iq (The Ocean of Realities).
Razi also wrote Mirsad al-ibad min al-mabda1 ila'l-maad (The
Path of God's Bondsmen from the Beginning to the Return), an influential
Persian Sufi treatise that is still in use both in Iran and India as a guide
for Sufi adepts.16 The Ayn al-hayat was later completed from Surah
52 (at-Tur) under the title Najm al-Quran (The Star of the Quran)
by another renowned shaykh of the Kubrawiyyah order,17 Ala’ ad-Dawlah
as-Simnani (d. 736/1336), who had many disciples in his khanqah outside
of Simnan, two hundred kilometers east of Tehran, and is known for opposing Ibn
al-Arabl's doctrine of the oneness of being (wahdat al-wujud) and proposing
a perspective in which is found the germ of the oneness of witnessing (wahdat
ash- shuhud),18 which later became prevalent among the Mujaddidi
branch of the Naqshbandiyyah Sufi order.19
Another disciple of Ahmad al-Ghazali who is important
for the initiatic history of Sufism is Abu'l-Fadl al-Baghdadi (d. 550/1155).
One silsilah of the Nimatallahl order founded by Shah Nimat Allah Wall
(d. 834/1331) comes seven generations through al-Baghdadi.20 This
order has had great influence in Turkey and continues to have new waves of
influence in the growing Muslim communities of Europe and America. Although the
historical validity of this silsilah cannot be substantiated, it
nonetheless demonstrates that later adherents of the NPmatallahl order
recognized the spiritual authority of both Ahmad al-Ghazali and al-Baghdadi.
The only silsilah given by Shams ad-Din Aflaki
(d. 761/1360) in his Manaqib al-arifin (The Feats of the Knowers of God)
for the Mavlavi Sufi order founded by Jalal ad-Din Rumi (d. 672/1123) records
Ahmad al-Ghazali as the shaykh of Ahmad Khatib! al-Balkhi (d. 516/1123), upon
whom he conferred the practice of remembrance (dhikr). Balkhi in turn
conferred the dhikr upon Shams al-A’imma as-Sarakhsi (d. 571/1175), who
was the Shaykh of Rumi's father, Baha ad-Din Walad (d. 628/1231). Burhan ad-Din
at-Tirmidhi (d. 638/1240) was then the next Shaykh in this line, and was
followed by Jalal ad-Din Rumi.21 That later followers of the Mavlavi
order recognized Ahmad al-Ghazali's spiritual authority is demonstrated by a
passage attributed to Jalal ad-Din Rumi:
Imam Muhammad Ghazali, may God have
mercy on him, has dived into the ocean of the universe, attained to a world of
dominion, and unfurled the banner of knowledge. The whole world follows him and
he has become a scholar of all the worlds. Still . . . If he had one iota of
love (ishq) like Ahmad Ghazali, it would have been better, and he would
have made known the secret of Muhammadan intimacy the way Ahmad did. In the
whole world, there is no teacher, no spiritual guide, and no unifier like love.22
Despite the presence of Ahmad al-Ghazali in Rumi's silsilah
and the respect he is accorded, he does not appear to have been as much of a
direct literary influence upon Rumi as was Hakim Sana’i, whose Hadiqat
al-haqiqah (Garden of Reality) was the prototype for Rumi's Mathnawi.
Aflaki reports that Rumi said of the Hadiqat al-haqiqah, "By God
this is more binding [than the Quran] because the outer form of the Koran is
analogous to yoghurt, whereas these higher contents are its butter and
cream."23 Of the spiritual efficacy of Sana’i's writings,
Aflaki reports that Rumi said, "Whoever reads the words of Sana’i in
absolute earnestness will become cognizant of the secret of the radiance (sana)
of our words."24 Whereas Ahmad al-Ghazali's Sawanih has
had an extensive literary influence and he is accorded initiatic influence
through several Sufi orders (turuq), Sana’i's influence has come only
through his writings.
Given the importance of Sana’i and the still unexamined
influence of figures such as Sam'ani and Maybudi, the importance of Ahmad
al-Ghazali's Sawanih for the history of Persian literature is a matter
of debate. Like his younger contemporaries Sam'ani and Maybudi, he receives
almost no mention in either Jan Rypka's History of Iranian Literature or
in E.G. Browne's A Literary History of Persia.25 This
omission stands in stark contrast to Nasrollah Pourjavady's assertion that
"the greatest Iranian Sufis and gnostics after him came under the
influence of the special teaching which appeared from his beliefs about love (ishq)
and his manner of expression."26 Although it might be more
accurate to say that Ahmad al-Ghazali was a pivotal figure among a generation
of authors that forever changed the course of Persian Sufi literature, he
nonetheless forms a crucial link in what some scholars have called "the
path of love" or "the school of love." This "school"
is not a direct succession of Sufi initiates marked by a definitive spiritual
genealogy like the Sufi orders (tariqahs) discussed above, but rather
designates a significant trend within Sufi thought in which all aspects of
creation and spiritual aspiration are presented in an allusive imaginal
language fired by love for God. As Omid Safi observes, “The Path of Love may be
described as a loosely affiliated group of Sufi mystics and poets who
throughout the centuries have propagated a highly nuanced teaching focused on
passionate love (‘ishq)."27 'Abdallah Ansari, Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Ahmad Sam'ani, Hakim Sana’!, and Maybudi are among the first to
have written in this vein.
The most direct evidence of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s literary
influence can be found in the commentaries on the Sawanih written in
both Persia and India, as well as the many extant manuscripts of the Sawanih2
His theory of love that presents all the stages of the spiritual path as an
interplay between love, the lover, and the beloved became central to Persian
Sufism in later generations, while his literary style, blending poetry and
prose in one seamless narrative, was employed in many later Sufi treatises.
Given the degree to which Ahmad al-Ghazali’s literary style and teachings are
reflected in later Sufism, his influence must be reconsidered. It is, however,
a subject that can be done justice only through extensive comparative textual
analysis of the entire Persian Sufi tradition. Here I will touch on some of the
most important traces.
As the goal of al-Ghazali’s writings is to facilitate
traveling the spiritual path, his literary influence is intrinsically bound to
his perceived spiritual and initiatic influence. All of his extant Persian
writings are in fact addressed to his disciples. He never writes as a scholar
of love or as a theoretician attempting to dissect love with the rational
faculties; rather, his is an attempt to guide and encourage others who are on
the path, helping them realize the Ultimate Reality that he considers to be
inexpressible. The first traces of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s literary influence are
found in the works of his disciple 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani (d. 526/1131), to
whom al-Ghazali addressed his Persian treatise ‘Ayniyyah and perhaps
nine other letters.29 Hamadani’s letters and his Tamhidat
take up many of the same themes expressed in al-Ghazali’s writings, such as the
sincerity of Satan, the limitations of religious law, and the all-encompassing
nature of Love. In many instances, the Tamhidat can be read as a
commentary that expands on the central themes of the Sawanih. In
particular, the sixth chapter, "The Reality and States of Love,"
examines both the written and unexpressed dimensions of al-Ghazali’s teachings.30
The Tamhidat has had an extensive influence on the Persian and Indian
Sufi traditions and has been the subject of several commentaries.31
'Ayn al-Qudat instructed many students, teaching seven or eight sessions a day,
and had many disciples,32 but he is not recorded in any major silsilahs.
In addition to his influence on 'Ayn al-Qudat,
al-Ghazali likely had a continued influence on the aforementioned writings of
both the Kubrawiyyah and Suhrawardiyyah orders. Among those whom Pourjavady
mentions are Abu’n-Najib as-Suhrawardi and Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi, as
well as Najm ad-Din Razi. But such influence is not as evident as that which he
had on the writings of Farid ad-Din 'Attar (d. 617/1220) and Fakhr ad-Din
'Iraqi (d. 688/1289). The latter’s Lamaat (Divine Flashes) is indebted
to al-Ghazali’s Sawanih for both its style and content. 'Iraqi expresses
a subtle metaphysics that gives an intellectual architecture to the question of
love in Sufi thought. As 'Iraqi writes in the beginning of the Lamaat,
it is intended to be "a few words explaining the levels of love in the
tradition of the Sawanih, in tune with the voice of each spiritual state
as it passes."33 Like al-Ghazali, 'Iraqi bases the entirety of
his metaphysical discourse on the idea that "the derivation of the lover
and the beloved is from Love,"34 and sees all of reality as an
unfolding of Love wherein none but Love is the lover or the beloved. Like
al-Ghazali’s Sawanih, Iraqi’s Lamaat is both a work of art and a
sublime metaphysical treatise. The Lamaat continues to be regarded as a
treasure of Persian Sufism, and 'Abd ar-Rahman Jami’s (d. 833/1477) commentary
on it, Ashiccat al-Lamaat (Rays of the Flashes), is still
used as an introductory text for the study of the science of hrfan
(recognition) in Iran.35
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s Dastan-i Murghan (Ar. Risalat
at-tayr; The Treatise of the Birds) most likely provided the outline for
'Attar’s famous Mantiq at-tayr (The Conference of the Birds).36
Both works begin with a gathering of the birds, which, despite their
differences, recognize their mutual need for a sovereign and set out to find
one; for, as the birds say in Dastan-i Murghan, "If the shadow of
the King’s majesty is not upon our heads, we will not be secure from the
enemy."37 Both works describe a journey of many trials by which
the birds find their sovereign, the Simurgh. But being of much greater breadth,
Attar’s Mantiq at-tayr deals with the theme of spiritual wayfaring in
greater detail. As Seyyed Hossein Nasr writes:
He ['Attar] uses the Ghazzalean theme of
suffering through which the birds are finally able to enter the court of the
celestial King. But he passes beyond that stage through the highest initiatic
station whereby the self becomes annihilated and rises in subsistence in the
Self, whereby each bird is able to realize who he is and finally to know
him-Self, for did not the Blessed Prophet state, "He who knows himself
knows his Lord"? In gaining a vision of the Simurgh, the birds not only
encounter the beauty of Her Presence, but also see themselves as they really
are, mirrored in the Self which is the Self of every Self.38
Like Rumi, 'Iraqi and 'Attar are both said to have
received initiations that flowed from the initiatic chains attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali's disciples. 'Attar was a disciple of Majd ad-Din al-Baghdadi (d.
616/1219),39 a disciple of Najm ad-Din Kubra,40 and
'Iraqi was a close disciple of Baha’ ad-Din Zakariyya (d. 659/1262), a disciple
of Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi.41
As Persian was the language of discourse for educated
Muslims in India until the colonial period, the influence of the Persian
masters of love in the subcontinent has been extensive. Among the many masters
who are indebted to Ahmad al-Ghazali and his pupil 'Ayn al-Qudat are Nizam
ad-Din Awliya’ (d. 1325), Nasir ad-Din Chiragh-i Dihli (d. 757/1356), Burhan
ad-Din Gharib (d. 738/1337), Rukn ad-Din Kashani (d. after 738/1337), and Gisu
Daraz (d. 825/1422),42 the last of whom is reported to have taught
the Sawanih and to have compared his own treatise, Hazahr al-Quds,
to it.43 When the Sufi poet, musician, and scholar Amir Khusraw (d.
1325) catalogued the nine literary styles of his day, the first that he listed
was the style of the Sufis, for which he names two varieties. The first variety
is that of "the people of gravity and stations," and the second
variety is that of "the people of states," for which he gives the
works of Ahmad Ghazali and 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani as examples.44 In
addition, the Mughal prince Dara Shikuh (d. 1659) states that his treatise Haqq
numa should explain all of the wisdom from the great writings on the
subject, among which he lists the Sawanih, Ibn al-'Arabi's Fusus
al-hikam and Futuhat al-Makiyyah, 'Iraqi's Lamaat, and Jami's
LawamF and Lawahh45 Such references demonstrate the
high regard in which the Sawanih was held in the Indian subcontinent.
Nonetheless, despite the respect accorded to the Sawanih, the Tamhidat
of 'Ayn al-Qudat played a more prominent role in Indian Sufism.46
Despite Ahmad al-Ghazali's extensive influence, little
information was available in the scholarly literature until 1979. This
oversight was amended by the appearance of three monographs in Persian: Majmuah-ye
athar-i farsi-ye Ahmad Ghazali (Compendium of the Persian Works of Ahmad
Ghazali) by Ahmad Mujahid, Sultan-i tariqat (The Master of Sufi Paths)
by Nasrollah Pourjavady, both in 1979, and Ayat-i husn va-ishq (Signs of
Beauty and Love) by Hishmatallah Riyadi in 1989.47 The studies by
Mujahid and Pourjavady made solid contributions to the study of Persian Sufism
in general and of Ahmad al-Ghazali in particular. Mujahid presented critical
editions of all the extant Persian writings attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali. His
extensive introduction documents the majority of the available resources for
the life and work of Ahmad al-Ghazali and thus proves to be an invaluable
resource. But Mujahid provides no analysis of either the literary works or of the
historical information. For this one must look to Pourjavady, who provides a
biography of Ahmad al-Ghazali and then examines his teachings. Pourjavady’s
insightful study does not, however, analyze the historical accuracy of the
available biographical information, and his examination of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s
teachings includes Bahr al-haqiqah (The Ocean of Realities) and Bawariq
al-ilma' fi'r-radd ala man yuharrimu's-sama bi'l-ijma (Glimmers of Allusion
in Response to Those who Forbid Sufi Music),48 works whose
attribution to Ahmad al-Ghazali has since been disproven. As Pourjavady himself
has observed, this significantly undermines the value of the analyses in Sultan-i
tariqat4 Riyadi’s study shows a great appreciation for Ahmad
al-Ghazali, but seems to borrow from Mujahid and Pourjavady more than build on
them. The works of Mujahid and Pourjavady provide a solid foundation for
studies of Ahmad al-Ghazali, and this study is greatly indebted to them.
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s introduction to Western audiences
came in 1936 through James Robson’s translation of Bawariq al-ilmaj a
treatise that defends the use of music in Sufi gatherings and provides guidance
for its implementation. As will be demonstrated in Chapter 1, the attribution
of this text to Ahmad al-Ghazali is erroneous. Many scholars still believe him
to be the author of this work and thus count him among the chief defenders of
Sufi music (sama). The inclusion of this text in his oeuvre has led to
misunderstandings about Ahmad al-Ghazali that persist to this day.50
Aside from a minor article by Helmut Ritter in the Encyclopaedia
of Islam,51 it was not until almost forty years later that Ahmad
al-Ghazali was reintroduced to Western audiences through the translation of his
Sawanih into German by Richard Gramlich.52 The Sawanih
was translated into German a second time by Gisela Wendt two years later.53
It was then introduced to the English-speaking public through a translation by
Nasrollah Pourjavady published in 1986.54 Ahmad al-Ghazali’s most
substantial Arabic treatise, at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid (Abstract
Regarding the Expression of Testifying to Unity), was translated into German by
Gramlich in 1983 and into French by Muhammad ad- Dahbi in 1995.55
Only the translations of the Sawanih by Gramlich and Pourjavady provide
substantial introductory material, but neither is intended to be comprehensive.
Pourjavady also provides a brief insightful commentary for the Sawanih
to accompany his translation.
This study provides the first full examination of the
life and work of Ahmad al-Ghazali in any European language. It builds on the
foundations established by Mujahid and Pourjavady, but adds to their invaluable
contributions by fully ascertaining the authenticity of works attributed to
Ahmad al-Ghazali and critically evaluating the biographical literature
regarding him. The first chapter provides an extensive analysis of all extant
primary-source material on Ahmad al-Ghazali. It examines the Arabic and Persian
sources for his life and teachings, both the works attributed to him and the
writings about him in the extensive Islamic biographical tradition. The
authenticity of works attributed to him is examined. Then the biographical
traditions are evaluated to see which authors provide new material, which
authors borrow from previous authors, what are the dominant ideological trends
in the biographical presentation of Ahmad al-Ghazali, and how these trends
change over time, moving from biography to hagiography. Examined in this light,
many of the accounts regarding Ahmad al-Ghazali appear to be hagiographical
embellishments that developed over time. When one accounts for the sources,
motivations, and historicity of these accounts, almost one hundred pages of
extant biographical material boils down to less than two pages of raw
historical data.
Chapter 2 draws on the biographical sources and other
primary historical sources to reconstruct the life and times of Ahmad
al-Ghazali in the early Saljuq period. The biographies of Ahmad al-Ghazali in
and of themselves do not provide enough information to thoroughly reconstruct
his life. But through an examination of the period in which he lived and
references to his brother’s life in the biographical literature, we can gain
important insights into this period of Saljuq history and the nature of his
position within it. This was a period of great intellectual fervor in all of
the Islamic sciences. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali came to be a central figure in
several substantial developments in jurisprudence (fiqh) and theology (kalam).
His intellectual gifts brought him favor in the court, and he advanced to the
highest academic position in the land as the head of the Nizamiyyah madrasah
(college). Ahmad al-Ghazali also found favor at court. He too was actively
engaged in many different aspects of the thriving intellectual culture of the
era and also attained a high degree of proficiency in fiqh and kalam.
But from an early age, his primary focus was Sufism.
The central focus of Ahmad al-Ghazali's life and
teachings is the Sufi path, and he spent all of his adult life engaged in
devotional and spiritual exercises. Nonetheless, this aspect of his teachings
has not been discussed in any of the secondary literature devoted to him.
Chapter 3 endeavors to reconstruct this practice. Ahmad al-Ghazali did not
provide any explicit Sufi manuals in the manner of some of his spiritual
descendants. Nonetheless, his Arabic treatise at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid
provides an extended discussion that portrays the spiritual path as various
stages and degrees of remembrance and discusses the process whereby one becomes
ever more immersed in dhikr, remembrance or invocation. For al-Ghazali,
as for most Sufis before and after him, dhikr is the central axis of
Sufi life and practice. He envisions three way stations for the spiritual
traveler: the first is the world of annihilation (fana) wherein one's
blameworthy attributes predominate and one should invoke "No god, but
God." The second way station is the world of attraction (jadhabiyyah)
wherein one's praiseworthy attributes predominate and one should invoke the
name Allah. In the third way station, the world of possession (qabd),
praiseworthy attributes have vanquished blameworthy attributes and one
invokes Huwa, Huwa (He, He), subsisting in God alone. This chapter also
draws on al-Ghazali's occasional advice scattered throughout his writings and
sessions (majalis), as well as the works of his contemporaries and his
spiritual descendants in order to flesh out the nature of his spiritual
practice. The majority of his extant writings appear to come from the later
period of his life when he was already an established Sufi shaykh, and the
biographical tradition provides only vague allusions to his spiritual practice.
It is therefore difficult to trace the development of these practices over
time. But it is clear that some form of supererogatory spiritual practice
played a central role in al-Ghazali's life from an early age.
The final two chapters turn from the life and practice
of Ahmad al-Ghazali to his central teachings, especially his understanding of
love (ishq). After briefly examining his controversial teachings
regarding Satan, Chapter 4, "The Roots of al-Ghazali's Teachings"
provides an in-depth examination of the historical development of the Sufi
understanding of love and the place of al-Ghazali's Sawanih within it. A
broad examination of the various Sufi teachings regarding love before the Sawanih
demonstrates that although traces of Ahmad al-Ghazali's ideas regarding love
can be found in the Sufi tradition preceding him, there is no text before the Sawanih
that expresses a full metaphysics of love in which all aspects of creation are
presented as manifestations of Love and all phases of spiritual wayfaring are
defined in relation to Love.
Chapter 5 delves into the ocean of Ahmad al-Ghazali's Sawanih.
In his writings and sermons, the Shaykh is always aware of the shortcomings
inherent in language—because a signifier can never be the same as that which it
signifies. This chapter thus begins by examining his attitude toward the medium
he must use to convey his message. It first surveys his allusions to the
relativity of language in the Sawanih and in the recorded public
sessions (majalis) that he held in Baghdad. Then it discusses his
relation to the secular literary tradition, particularly the ‘udhri ghazal
(longing love) and the khamriyyah (wine) traditions, arguing that, like
many Sufis before and after him, Ahmad al-Ghazali borrowed themes from these
traditions but transferred them to a Sufi context. This is followed by a brief
examination of Ahmad al-Ghazali's use of Quran, hadith, and poetry as a means
to incite his audience to seek love and recognition (‘irfan). The last
half of the chapter is devoted to a close reading of the teachings of love in
the Sawanih. It begins by considering the central terms for Ahmad
al-Ghazali's discussion of love, ‘ishq, ruh (spirit), qalb
(heart), and husn (beauty). Then it examines the stages of spiritual
wayfaring whereby the heart is brought to complete maturity until it is
immersed in the ocean of love, beyond duality, separation, and union.
Part I
Life and History
Chapter 1
Sources for the
Ahmad al-Ghazali Tradition
In the primary biographical sources of the Islamic
tradition, Ahmad al-Ghazali is usually listed as Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad
b. Ahmad al-Ghazali, Abu’l-Futuh at-Tusi. But at times he can be found under
one of his honorifics (alqab, sg. laqab), Abu’l-Futuh (The Father
of Victories), which in some sources is mistakenly recorded as Abu’l-Fath, or
Majd ad-Din (The Glory of Religion). In the early biographical (tabaqat)
tradition, he is known as a preacher (waiz), a Sufi, and a jurisprudent (faqih).
He is also recorded as a scholar of the exoteric sciences and the esoteric
sciences (alim wa arif) and as a master of miracles and allusions (sahib
al-karamat wa'l-isharat). Though many later Sufis saw Ahmad al-Ghazali as
an accomplished spiritual master, in the earlier tabaqat literature he
is often viewed in light of his more celebrated brother, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali.
All biographies mention that he is the brother of Imam Abu Hamid, and in
several works his biography is presented as an addendum to that of his brother.
But from the eighth/fourteenth century onward, Ahmad is given pride of place in
the Sufi hagiographical tradition; his biographies are more extensive than Abu
Hamid’s, and he is consistently portrayed as the spiritual superior of his
older, more famous brother. The prevailing opinion conveyed in the biographical
works comes to be that which was attributed to Jalal ad-Din Rumi (d. 672/1273)
by his biographer Shams ad-Din Ahmad al-Aflaki (d. 761/1360): "If he [Abu
Hamid] had one iota of love (ishq) like Ahmad al-Ghazali, it would have
been better, and he would have made known the secrets of Muhammadan intimacy
the way Ahmad did."1
Whereas in the earlier tabaqat works Ahmad
al-Ghazali is recognized as a scholar (alim), a jurisprudent (faqih),
and a preacher (waiz), in later sources he is referred to as Shaykh, and
even as the Shaykh of shaykhs (shaykh al-mashayikh or shaykh
ash-shuyukh). The attribution of such honorifics is part of a larger trend
in which a complex hagiography develops to compensate for a lack of historical
details, not only for Ahmad al-Ghazali, but for many luminaries of the Sufi
tradition. In order to properly detail the course of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s life
and the nature of his teachings, we must first examine the authenticity of his
works, their interrelationship with other textual sources, and the development
of the biographical and hagiographical traditions. This is essential for
differentiating his teachings from those that have been attributed to him, and
distinguishing those anecdotes that develop and perpetuate a legendary image
from the stories which provide details of an historical person who forever
changed the face of Persian Sufi literature.
In both Western academia and the modern Islamic world,
even in his native Iran, Ahmad al-Ghazali is usually known only as the younger
brother of Abu Hamid. Some have a deeper appreciation of his accomplishments
and are familiar with his place in the initiatic chains of several Sufi orders.
But Ahmad al-Ghazali is best known for his sublime treatise on Love, Sawanih,
the most read of his works.2 The Sawanih was widely read
throughout the Persian speaking world and has exerted an influence on Persian
literature that has carried through to this day. As noted in the introduction,
it has been the subject of several Persian commentaries and has been translated
into both German and English. But all of the attention received by the Sawanih
may have obscured other writings that are also fundamentally important for
obtaining a full picture of Ahmad al-Ghazali as an individual, as a Sufi
shaykh, and as a literary and historical figure.
Ahmad al-Ghazali composed several other works in
Persian, all of which have been critically edited, and three works in Arabic,
two of which have been printed, but only one of which has been critically
edited. In addition, several works have been incorrectly attributed to him. The
content and style of his authentic works will be discussed in Chapters 3, 4,
and 5; here the authentic will be separated from the spurious. Among the
Persian works that are definitely of his hand are the aforementioned Sawanih
on mystical love (‘ishq), Dastan-i murghan (The Treatise of the
Birds) on the symbolism of spiritual flight,3 Risalah-yi
‘Ayniyyah (Treatise for Ayn al-Qudat), written in response to a letter from
his most celebrated disciple, Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani,4 on many
aspects of the spiritual life,5 and several letters, most of which
are believed to have been written for Ayn al-Qudat, though the authenticity of
the letters is not fully established.6 All of Ahmad al-Ghazali's
Persian treatises are distinguished by concise, yet allusive prose,
interspersed with frequent citations of hadith, Quran, and both Arabic
and Persian poetry.
Two other Persian works attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali
in Brockelmann's Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur (GAL) are ‘Ishqiyyah
and Bahr al-haqiqah (The Ocean of Reality).7 The former
appears to be another title for the Sawanih, and the latter appears to
be spurious. There is only one extant manuscript of Bahr al-haqiqah,
from 877/1472, and it is attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali.8 The date of
the manuscript and internal evidence, however, shows it to be highly unlikely
that this is a work of his hand, though it may have been inspired by his
teachings, thus explaining its attribution to him. The two leading scholars of
Ahmad al-Ghazali, Ahmad Mujahid and Nasrollah Pourjavady, have considered it a
part of the Ghazalian corpus, and both have edited it.9 As
Pourjavady observes, "Though the ideas expressed in this book can very
well be considered to belong to Ahmad al-Ghazali, the style and composition of
the book are somewhat different from those of the Sawanih, the Risalat
at-tayr, and the letters."10 It is this very difference of
style and composition that make the authenticity of this work more dubious than
probable. The treatise is divided into an introduction and seven chapters, each
about one of the seven oceans of spiritual realization. It is this seven-ocean
scheme that represents its closest relation to the Ghazalian corpus, for in his
sessions he cites a story from the famous Sufi Abu'l-Husayn an-Nuri (d.
295/908), who was asked, "How does one arrive at recognition (mahifah)?"
To which he responded, "It is seven oceans of light and fire."11
Nonetheless, the fact that this is a well-ordered text distinguishes it from
all of Ahmad's writings; the style of his authenticated works resembles the
immediate inspiration of a preacher more than the systematic exposition of a
scholar. Though Ahmad al-Ghazali's writings have an internal order, it is not
readily accessible and must be discerned by close reading. Furthermore, the
content and method of citation in Bahr al-haqiqah is completely
different from that of his authentic writings. From fortyseven pages in
Mujahid's edition of Bahr al-haqiqah only seventeen citations of Quran
and hadith can be gleaned, whereas in just over four pages of Dastan-i
murghan there are twenty such citations. The difference is even more
striking in the ‘Ayniyyah, which is woven almost entirely of citations
from Quran and hadith. In addition, the poetry in Bahr al-haqiqah
is limited to four verses of Persian poetry at the end of each chapter, and no
Arabic poetry is cited. Such an orderly fashion of citing poetry is not found
in any of Ahmad al-Ghazali's Persian or Arabic writings, and such a limited use
of poetry is not part of any of his Persian writings. Arabic poetry is absent
from only a few of his letters and the shortest of his treatises, Dastan-i
murghan. These stylistic inconsistencies, coupled with the late date of the
unicum, disaffirm the attribution of this text to Ahmad al-Ghazali.
Among the Arabic works, the most widely received has
been at-Tajrid fl kalimat at-tawhid, a treatise on the levels of
spiritual development and the corresponding modes of remembrance (dhikr),
which for Ahmad al-Ghazali and most Sufis before and after him is the central
axis of the spiritual life and practice.12 In accordance with the
teaching of the Quran, The remembrance of God is far greater (29:45),
and its exhortations to remember God: And remember the name of your Lord
morning and evening (76:25), Sufis of all ages have regarded remembrance as
the central pivot of the spiritual life. In one of his sessions Ahmad goes so
far as to say, "There is no occupation but the remembrance of God,"13
and in a letter he tells a disciple that it is a necessary part of being human:
"Just as there is something in man which lives by bread and water, so,
too, there is something which lives by the remembrance of God."14
As will be seen in Chapter 3, at-Tajrid is a text that examines the
method whereby the spiritual aspirant can advance toward the perpetual
remembrance (dhikr) that penetrates every aspect of one's being.
There are at least thirty extant manuscripts of at-Tajrid
and two printed editions.15 This is a valuable treatise for
understanding al-Ghazali's spiritual practice, as it outlines what was most
likely the method of remembrance he practiced and provides his views on
sanctity (wilayah), the qualifications for being a spiritual guide (murshid),
and other issues central to the Sufi way. In addition to these works of Ahmad's
own hand there is one collection of public sessions entitled Majalis Ahmad
al-Ghazali (The Sessions of Ahmad al-Ghazali). These were delivered in
Baghdad and recorded by one SaTd b. Faris al-Labbani, regarding whom no biographical
information remains. They were originally arranged in two volumes comprising
eighty-three sessions of which only some twenty recorded sessions remain.16
As with the Persian treatises, the style of at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid
and the sessions lean more toward the exuberant sermons of a preacher than the
didactic lessons of a scholar.
In addition to the works mentioned above, several Arabic
works have been incorrectly attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali. Among these is a
summary of his brother's Ihya1 culum ad-din (The Revival of
the Religious Sciences), entitled Lubab min al-Ihya1 (The
Kernels of the Revival), which is attributed to Ahmad by several biographers,
but in most manuscripts is attributed to Abu Hamid al-Ghazali.17
Elements of a commentary on Chapter 12 of the Quran, "Joseph,"
entitled Bahr al-mahabbah fi asrar al-mawaddah fi tafsir surat Yusuf
(The Ocean of Love Regarding the Secrets of Affection: A Commentary on Surat
Yusuf),18 appear similar to Ahmad al-Ghazali’s other works,
especially his esoteric understanding of Satan, wherein he is seen as the
foremost of those who testify to God’s unity (muwahhid) and as the
greatest lover of God because he refused to bow to anything other than God.
This position is attributed to al-Ghazali by several biographers, and an
account in his sessions is very similar to that in Bahr al-mahabbah. The
fact that al-Ghazali makes several references to the story of Joseph in his
sessions would also appear to support the attribution of this commentary to
him. But as with Bahr al-haqiqah, internal stylistic evidence makes this
attribution dubious. This is most evident in the citation of poetry. Bahr
al-mahabbah is replete with poetry from the Sufi tradition, but in his
writings and sessions al-Ghazali rarely cites Sufi poetry, and instead relies
heavily on the famous figures of the Arabic literary tradition, such as Abu
Nuwas (d. ca. 197/813) and al-Mutanabbi (d. 354/965). Furthermore, the manner
of expressing Sufi ideas lacks the immediacy that characterizes his other
writings. In all of his authenticated writings and in his recorded sessions, he
is a preacher exhorting his audience to follow the path, but Bahr
al-mahabbah reads more like a disjointed exposition of Sufi ideas. It is
possible that Bahr al-mahabbah precedes his other writings, representing
an inchoate intellectual and spiritual outlook and an undeveloped literary
style. But its authenticity is further disaffirmed by the fact that of the
fourteen known manuscripts the earliest is dated 929/1523, over four hundred
years after Ahmad al-Ghazali’s death.19 Thus, until more evidence is
available, it should not be counted among his works.
The most famous Arabic text to have been incorrectly
attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali is the aforementioned Bawariq al-ilma fi'r-radd
ala man yuharrimu as-sama bi'l-ijma (Glimmers of Allusion in Response to
Those who Forbid Sufi Music), a treatise that defends the legitimacy and
spiritual efficacy of employing song and dance in Sufi gatherings and provides
instruction regarding its implementation. It is not attributed to al-Ghazali by
any biographers until the modern period, when it is mentioned by Khayr ad-Din
az-Zirikli.20 As it was the first of the works attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali to be edited and translated into a Western language, it is the one
most often mistaken by scholars and students of Islam for one of his works,
leading many to maintain that Ahmad al-Ghazali was a "keen supporter of
the practice of sama'."21 The style and content of the Bawariq
are unlike those of any known works by Ahmad al-Ghazali. It is well argued and
systematic and oriented more toward jurisprudence than Sufism. But a detailed
analysis of the style and content is not necessary, for as Ahmad Mujahid has
shown, the attribution to Ahmad al-Ghazali is clearly incorrect. Mujahid has
identified fifteen manuscripts of the Bawariq, of which only three
actually state that this is a text by al-Ghazali, all three of which are from
the twelfth century hijri or later. Two of these manuscripts were
employed by James Robson in his critical edition.22 The third
manuscript used by Robson is dated 714 hijri and does not attribute the
text to Majd ad-Din Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad at-Tusi al-Ghazali, but
rather to Najm ad-Din Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad at-Tusi,23 who
in most manuscripts is recognized by the honorific Shihab ad-Din, rather than
Najm ad-Din.24
It is surprising that Robson chose to follow the two
later manuscripts in attributing the Bawariq to al-Ghazali, as the
author of the Bawariq clearly refers to the Tadhkirat al-awliya1
of Farid ad-Din 'Attar (d. 627/1230): "And the people of all times agreed
about the soundness of the sainthood of al-Junayd, ash-Shibli, Ma'ruf
al-Karkhi, 'Abdallah b. Khafif, and others of those who are mentioned in Tadhkirat
al-awliya1."25 Robson was aware of this
difficulty but chose to maintain the attribution to al-Ghazali. As he explains
in a footnote:
The only book of this name with which I
am familiar is the Persian work by 'Attar (d. 627/1230). As Majd ad-Din died in
520 (1126), one can only conclude that, if this is the book referred to, the
passage is not a part of Majd ad-Din’s original work. The saints mentioned are
all dealt with in 'Attar’s work. If this passage is part of Majd ad-Din’s work,
one must assume that he is either referring to some unknown book, or using the
phrase in a general sense with reference to the biographies of saints. But it
is possible that the whole paragraph has been added by a later hand, as it is
in the style of pp. 87-90, and so does not seem in place here.26
Despite Robson’s efforts to explain the citation, the
manuscript evidence and the inner stylistic evidence, combined with reference
to Tadhkirat al-awliya1, clearly disaffirm the attribution of
this text to Ahmad al-Ghazali.
One account in the Tamhidat of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s
foremost disciple, 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, indicates that both attended Sufi
sessions of sama'T7 And an account in the Lisan al-mizan
of Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani (d. 853/1449) attributes miraculous powers to
al-Ghazali where he spun upon his head in a Sufi gathering "until he had
no feet upon the ground."28 Nonetheless, the systematic defense
of samafound in the Bawariq can no longer be attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali, but rather to the still unknown Shaykh Shihab ad-Din Ahmad at-Tusi,
most likely of the late seventh Islamic century, regarding whom I can find no
extant biographical information. This finding necessitates that we rethink the
historical development of formalized sessions of sama, since some
features, such as the recitation of the Quran before and after sessions of sama,
had previously been thought to have been incorporated by the sixth/twelfth
century but may in fact have been later developments.29
The most perplexing of the texts attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali is adh-Dhakhirah fi im al-basirah (Treasure Regarding
Knowledge from Insight).30 The first to attribute this text to Ahmad
al-Ghazali is Ibn al-Mustawfi al-Irbili (d. 637/1239) in his Ta’rikh Irbil
(The History of Irbil).31 It is later attributed to him by at least
six other biographers of the classical period, as well as three cataloguers and
biographers of the premodern and modern periods. Two extant manuscripts are
recorded by Brockelmann, one in Berlin and the other at the Qarawiyyin library
in Fez, Morocco.32 The latter is in fact another manuscript of at-Tajrid
fi kalimat at-tawhid, under the title of Risalah fi la ilaha illa'llah.
The Berlin manuscript is under the title adh-Dhakhirah li ahl al-basirah.
A stylometric analysis reveals that the text in this manuscript is most likely
not authored by Ahmad al-Ghazali. Like the Bawariq and Bahr
al-haqiqah, it is far more systematic than any of Ahmad al-Ghazali's
authenticated writings. It is divided into four chapters on knowledge of the
soul, knowledge of God, knowledge of the world, and knowledge of the hereafter.
The central thesis, that knowledge of oneself is the key to the knowledge of
all else, is similar in some aspects to Ahmad al-Ghazali's thought, and many of
the same general teachings of Sufism are conveyed, such as the need for dhikr
(remembrance), but whereas al-Ghazali couches his discussion in the technical
vocabulary of early Sufism and employs the allusive and emotive style of a
preacher, the author of the adh-Dhakhirah li ahl al-basirah is far more
reliant on the technical vocabulary of Peripatetic Islamic philosophy and
develops his arguments in a systematic and, at times, repetitive fashion.
Furthermore, the term ishq, which is so central to Ahmad al-Ghazali's
teachings, is used here as a negative term referring to the vice of passionate
desire for what is lower. The text also relies heavily on the writings of Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali, repeatedly stating
that one should learn the Islamic sciences from him. In
none of his extant texts does Ahmad ever mention his older brother.
The most conclusive evidence that the Berlin manuscript
is not the text of the adh-Dhakhirah fi im al-basirah is that the
following passage from the text cited by Ibn al-Mustawfi al-Irbili is not in
the Berlin manuscript and is not at all similar in style to the manuscript:
It is forbidden for a heart filled with
love of the world to find the sweetness of remembrance, and it is forbidden for
a heart filled with passions to have a connection with eternity (al-qidam).
You are only commanded to leave what you are in. As for the magnificence of
eternity, do not refrain from what contains the rank of servitude and the path
of belovedness. You have no report from them and no news from them. You are in
a valley and they are in a valley.33
This citation is very similar in both style and content
to the writings and sessions of Ahmad al-Ghazali in that it provides an
allusive directive to spiritual action, leaving the reader to deduce the full
meaning behind the exhortation. While the same sentiment is expressed in parts
of adh-Dhakhirah li ahl al-basirah, it is clearly not the same text as
the one cited by al-Irbili. Thus the Berlin manuscript entitled adh-
Dhahkirah li ahl al-basirah provides no conclusive evidence regarding adh-Dhakhirah
fi im al-basirah. Until more manuscripts become available, no conclusions
regarding the authenticity of adh-Dhakhirah fi im al-basirah can be
reached.
Other texts that have been catalogued in a manner that
attributes them to Ahmad al-Ghazali are Sirr al-asrar fi kashf al-anwar (The
Secret of Secrets Concerning the Unveiling of Lights),34 Latahf
al-fikr wa-jawami ad-durar (The Subtle Graces of Contemplation and the
Gatherings of Pearls),35 Natahj al-khalwah wa lawa’ih al-jalwah (The
Effects of Spiritual Retreat and the Regulations of Spiritual Disclosure),36
Manhaj al-albab (The Way of Hearts),37 and Mukhtasar
as-salwah fi'l-khalwah (A Synopsis of the Delight in Spiritual Retreat).38
I still know nothing of Nata’ij al-khalwah, but the other texts
appear to be written by the same author, one Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad
at-Tusi, as is reported at the beginning of each.39 He is also
referred to in each as "the poor servant" (al-abd al-faqir).
That Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad at-Tusi is not another name for Ahmad b.
Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Ahmad at-Tusi al-Ghazali is evident for several
reasons. First, Ahmad al-Ghazali is only referred to as at-Tusi without
al-Ghazali in one biographical work, and he is never referred to as only
at-Tusi by Sufi writers or in his own writings. Were these to have been his
authentic works, those in his spiritual lineage would most likely have sought
to claim and disseminate them. Second, as with the Bawariq, Bahr al-haqiqah,
and adh-Dhakhirah, stylometric analysis reveals a far more didactic and
systematic style than that found in any of Ahmad al-Ghazali's extant writings.
The content, though focused on Sufism, is also markedly different, and a
different technical vocabulary is employed. Third, the most distinguishing
feature of these works is a central emphasis on spiritual poverty (faqr),
which could be said to be the defining characteristic of Ahmad at-Tusi's
writings, wherein he defines every existent thing in terms of poverty. As he
writes in Sirr al-asrar:
Know that the meaning (mafn«)40
of poverty is concealed in the substance of every existent thing, except the
Highest Principle (al-mabda1 al-ala), the One Who pours forth
upon existences—glory be to Him alone—because He is perpetually self-disclosing
in existent things through the general existence-bestowing mercy (ar-rahmah
al-ammah al-ijadiyyah), in order to give everything the strength and power
for which it is fit. That thing thus needs a capacity for receiving that mercy.
This is the capacity that necessitates turning towards Him perpetually in all
states and utterances, so that one does not receive an outpouring from anything
other than Him and does not attach any affair to anything other than Him. The
Prophet alluded to this meaning in his saying, "Poverty is my pride and I
take pride in it."41 Meaning, on the Day of Resurrection my
pride will be that I am in need of God and of nothing other than Him.
In so far as man is the most noble
and perfect of existent things, as according to His saying, And we have
honored the children of Adam (17:70), his poverty has become more perfect
and more complete than that of any other. In regards to man, poverty is divided
into three: poverty of the essence, poverty of attributes, and poverty of
actions. As for the poverty of essence, all men share in it; it is the
confirmation of oneness, because everyone—believer and unbeliever—when he is
obliged in his states and utterances, returns to God completely and remembers
Him with his tongue and heart. That return is the poverty of the essence.
As for the poverty of attributes,
that is the poverty of the friends (of God); for when they travel the path of
disengaging from the world, withdrawing from the hereafter, and reach the world
of testifying to unity, all the attributes adjoined to them, such as desire,
cupidity, love of dignity and leadership, and the vision of the soul, fall away
from them. So they become like the clipped bird, unable to fly. They are thus
in need of attributes from the direction of God, such that they are described by
them in the experience of making the effects of the great friendship (al-wilayah
al-kubra) manifest. These are the discerning sciences and the lordly
wisdoms and other than that.
As for the poverty of actions, it is
the poverty of the prophets because they are in need of God for permission
regarding deeds, proper conduct (al-adab), and other things. So whoever
is described by one of these actions is poor (faqir).42
This is a unique interpretation of poverty with no
precedents in Sufi thought. It is central to all of at-Tusi's writings. In Manhaj
al-albab this tripartite division of poverty is expanded into five: poverty
pertaining to essence, poverty pertaining to attributes, poverty pertaining to
actions, poverty pertaining to prophets, and poverty pertaining to creation.43
Though poverty is discussed by Ahmad al-Ghazali in many passages from his
sessions and writings, there is no instance in which the same emphasis is
found, wherein poverty is "concealed in the substance of every existent
thing," nor is the three-fold or five-fold division of poverty found in
the known writings of any other Sufis, let alone Ahmad al-Ghazali.44
It is also evident that at-Tusi had a different vision
of dhikr, or remembrance. As will be seen in Chapter 3, in at-Tajrid
fi kalimat at-tawhid al-Ghazali sees three degrees of dhikr—la ilaha
illa'llah, Allah, and huwa huwa (He is He)—which correspond to
different degrees of the spiritual path. At-Tusi, however, sees four degrees,
to which correspond three formulas of remembrance. The formulas are similar to
those of al-Ghazali, but at-Tusi places them in a different ascending order: la
ilaha illa'llah, ya huwa, and Allah.45 Other aspects of
his writings that clearly distinguish them from those of al-Ghazali are the use
of terminology specific to later, more doctrinal, Sufism and a science of the
soul that employs the Avicennan understanding of the soul that influenced so
many medieval thinkers.46
As with Shihab ad-Din Ahmad b. Muhammad at-Tusl, the
exact identity of the Ahmad at-Tusi who authored these works cannot be
determined. The best indication is a chain of transmission found in the
introduction to one manuscript of Risalah fi fadl al-faqr wa'l-fuqara},
wherein the text is said to have been received by Shaykh Ahmad b. Muhammad b.
Muhammad at-Tusi from ash-Shaykh al-Hajj Ahmad b. al-Hasan b. al-Husayn, from
Shaykh Tsa b. al-Hasan as-Silafi al-Kurdi, from Shaykh Hafiz Hafiz al-Huffaz
Abu Tahir Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Ahmad b. Ibrahim as-Silafi
al-Isfahani, who is reported to have said that, in the port of Alexandria, in
the madrasah known as al-Adiliyyah, during the middle ten days of the
month of Ramadan in the year 600, he heard this from al-Qadi as-Said Abd
ar-Rahman b. al-Imam Ahmad b. Hanbal, who transmitted this from his father
al-Imam Ahmad b. Hanbal, whose chain of transmission comes directly from Jafar
as-Sadiq, through the Shi'ite Imams from the Prophet Muhammad.47
This chain of transmission appears, however, to be a fabrication. Al-Hafiz
as-Silafi died in the year 576/1180-81, and the text says that he heard this
text in the year 600. Furthermore, al-Hafiz as-Silafi was born in 472/1076 and
thus lived almost two hundred years after the death of 'Abd ar-Rahman b. Imam
Ahmad b. Hanbal (d. 290/903). In addition the latter’s father, Imam Ahmad b.
Hanbal (d. 241/855), was not a contemporary of Imam Jafar as-Sadiq (d.
148/765). Nonetheless, we must take what indications we can from this silsilah.
The presence of al-Hafiz as-Silafi and the mention of the year 600 tell us that
Ahmad at-Tusi is most likely separated by three generations from Shaykh Ahmad
al-Ghazali, and was thus active in the late seventh/thirteenth century.48
There are four other Arabic works attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali, regarding which little information is available. Both Pourjavady
and Mujahid list Farah al-asma} (The Joy of the Names).49
There is one manuscript of this text in Lucknow, which, however, no Ghazali
scholars have been able to obtain. In addition, Mujahid lists al-Haqq
wa'l-haqiqah (The Real and the Reality), Fi surat ash-shajarah
at-tayyibah fi'l-ard al-insaniyyah (Regarding the Good Tree in the Human
Earth), Risalah nuriyyah (Epistle on Light), and Ktmiya1
as-saadah (The Alchemy of Happiness) as texts mistakenly attributed to
Ahmad al-Ghazali. The last is obviously not by Ahmad al-Ghazali. It is a
mistaken attribution in one manuscript of his brother’s famous treatise. It is
not, however, clear as to which manuscript Mujahid refers.50 Mujahid
also gives no indication for the sources that attribute al-Haqq wa'l-haqiqah
or Risalah nuriyyah to al-Ghazali. There is one manuscript of Fi
surat ash-shajarah at-tayyibah listed among the Persian manuscripts in
Medina,51 which is reported to be a short treatise based on ar-Risalah
al-laduniyyah of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali.52 The attribution of
these three texts appears dubious, but until further manuscript evidence is
available a full evaluation cannot be made.
Primary Sources for al-Ghazali's Vita
While supplemented by his writings and recorded
sessions, the biography presented in Chapter 2 will be based on accounts
related in Sufi texts and on the hagiographical tabaqat literature of
the Sufi tradition, the more general tabaqat literature of the Islamic
tradition, and local tabaqat works from Baghdad, Irbil, and Qazwin,
which are among the cities in which Ahmad al-Ghazali preached. Here our task is
to sift through the biographical material so as to better extract information
about the historical person from the hyperbole of both his opponents and
supporters. The primary sources for Ahmad al-Ghazali's biography provide more
information about how he was interpreted and portrayed than they do about the
historical details of his life. Nonetheless, the glimpses of his character and
of the impression that his personality made on others are a valuable resource.
Accounts from Individual Sufis
Ahmad al-Ghazali is mentioned in many Sufi
hagiographies, in the poetry of Farid ad-Din Attar,53 and in several
Sufi texts from both Iran and the Indian subcontinent. Nonetheless, there are
only four Sufi texts that provide valuable material. The first story
transmitted by his most famous disciple, Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, is the most
valuable historical account among all biographical materials because it was
recorded during Ahmad al-Ghazali's life. In his Zubdat al-haqadq (The
Cream of Realities), Ayn al-Qudat speaks of the influence that the books of Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali and the presence of Ahmad al-Ghazali had on his intellectual
and spiritual development. After his initial study of Abu Hamid's Ihya1
culum ad-din and other texts, a state of spiritual doubt remained,
which was then relieved by Shaykh Ahmad:
I remained like that for almost a year,
yet I did not arrive at the truth of what had happened to me in that year until
destiny sent to my hometown of Hamadan my Master and Lord, the Shaykh, the most
splendid Imam, master of the spiritual path and interpreter of reality,
Abu'l-Futuh Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad al-Ghazali—may
God grace the people of Islam with his
continued presence and grant him the best reward. Through his service the veil
of bewilderment was withdrawn from the face of that event in less than twenty
days, such that I saw clearly what had happened. Then I was given insight into
an affair wherein nothing of me nor of what I sought other than Him remained,
except what God willed. It has now been several years that I have occupied
myself with nothing but seeking to pass away in that affair.54
This is the only historical account in Hamadani’s
writings, but Ahmad al-Ghazali is also mentioned four times in the Tamhidat
and once in his letters. These passages offer little biographical information,
but they do convey the high regard 'Ayn al-Qudat had for Ahmad, counting him
and Abu Hamid as two of only ten people who were experts in both the exoteric
and esoteric sciences.55 Another passage of the Tamhidat
recounts that 'Ayn al-Qudat’s father saw Ahmad dancing with them in a Sufi
gathering,56 and two passages attribute verses to Ahmad that are not
found in his extant writings.57
The next Sufi text to provide information regarding
Ahmad al-Ghazali is the ‘Awarif al-ma‘arif (Gifts of the Gnostic
Sciences) of Shihab ad-Din Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234), whose
uncle and spiritual master, Shaykh Diya’ ad-Din Abu’n-Najib as-Suhrawardi (d.
563/1186), had been a disciple of Ahmad al-Ghazali. This account is valuable
not only for information about the relationship between two great Sufi shaykhs,
but also for insight into Ahmad al-Ghazali’s method of spiritual guidance:
I heard our Shaykh (Abu’n-Najib) [i.e.,
the author’s uncle] say, "A man came to Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali while we
were in Isfahan, seeking the khirqah (Sufi mantle) from him. The Shaykh
said to him, "Go to so-and-so—indicating me—in order that he may tell you
the meaning of the khirqah. Then come for me to bestow the khirqah
upon you." So he came to me and I told him the rights of the khirqah, what
the custody of its right requires, the proper conduct of one who wears it, and
who is qualified to wear it. The man regarded the rights of the khirqah
as great and shrank from wearing it. So I told the Shaykh what came about for
the student from my speaking to him. He summoned me and reproached me for what
I had said to him, saying, "I sent him to you in order to tell him what
would increase his desire for the khirqah, then you told him what caused
his determination to abate. All that you told him is true and it is what is
necessitated by the rights of the khirqah, but if we were to require
that of the beginner, he would flee and be incapable of upholding it. So we
bestow the khirqah upon him in order that he becomes like unto the
people [i.e., the Sufis] and dons their attire; for that brings him close to
their gatherings and meetings. Through the grace of his consorting with them
and looking upon the states of the people and their journey, he wants to travel
their path and through that he arrives at something of their states."58
Another of al-Ghazali's spiritual descendants in the
same lineage, Najm ad-Din Razi (d. 654/1256), provides a very brief account of
a young Ahmad al-Ghazali sitting and eating with his own Shaykh, Abu Yusuf
Hamadani, and some companions. After al-Ghazali went into a trance, he came to
his senses and then related a vision: "I have just seen the Prophet, peace
be upon him. He came and put a morsel of food in my mouth." This is not,
however, taken as an indication of Ahmad al-Ghazali's spiritual attainment,
since Shaykh Hamadani is reported to have replied, "These are imaginings
by which the infants of the path are nurtured."59 The few other
citations of Ahmad al-Ghazali in Razi's Mirsad al-ibad min al-mabda}
ila'l- maad do, however, indicate that Razi held him in high esteem, since
when citing verses from the Sawanih he refers to him as
"Shaykh" and bestows upon him honorifics, such as, "May God's
mercy be upon him" and "May God sanctify his spirit" that are
reserved for revered Sufi masters.60
The fourth Sufi text to provide information on Ahmad
al-Ghazali is the Tabsirat al-mubtadT wa-tadhkirat al-muntahi,
attributed to Sadr ad-Din al-Qunawi (d. 673/1274). Here the story is less
historical; rather, al-Ghazali is used as a mouthpiece to clarify the Sufi
ideal of detachment. He is asked by a disciple, "Every day you scorn the
world, praise poverty, and enjoin people to cut ties [with the world], yet you
have many horses and donkeys. How can you proclaim this?" In response he
replies, "I have placed a long stake in the ground. I have not placed it
in the heart. ‘Verily God—transcendent is He— does not look at your forms, nor
at your deeds, but He looks at your hearts.'"61 With this
account it appears that anecdotes of Ahmad al-Ghazali in Sufi texts cease to be
empirical historical accounts and become a matter of historical fiction,
wherein he is used as a symbol for advancing particular lessons or ideals
pertaining to the Sufi way. Though this and other anecdotes may be based on the
transmission of actual events, it is more likely that they represent tropes
developed out of impressions derived from his writings and sessions.
Ahmad al-Ghazali is referred to as “The Sultan of all
Notables" in the Maqalat of Shams ad-Din Tabriz! (d. 638/1241),62
the fourth and last Sufi text to provide original information regarding Ahmad’s
life. With over seven pages of stories about Ahmad al-Ghazali, the Maqalat provides
more details than any other source and would appear to be an essential
resource. It is the only account to mention a third brother, 'Umar al-Ghazali,
whom Shams ad-Din claims was a successful merchant whose generosity matched the
knowledge of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali.63 He also claims that Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali was the true author of adh-Dhakhirah fi ‘ilm al-basirah and Lubab
al-Ihya1 and that Ahmad saw no use in these books.64
He further claims that Ahmad was "untrained in these outward
sciences,"65 did not write, and did not engage in the practice
of seclusion (khalwah),66 an assertion that appears to be
contradicted by the biographical tradition and by Ahmad al-Ghazali’s own
writings.
Shams ad-Din provides the first biographical account to
discuss the controversial practice of shahid-bazi, or "witness
play," also known as "gazing upon beardless young men."67
The best-known account is one that is also told of another famous Sufi Shaykh,
Ruzbihan Baqli (d. 606/1209) in the ‘Ushshaq Namah, a text incorrectly
attributed to Fakhr ad-Din 'Iraqi.68 In both accounts it is reported
that the Atabeg was informed of Ahmad al-Ghazali (or Ruzbihan Baqli) lying with
his leg next to a young boy in the bathhouse. When the Atabeg came to look
through the window, "The Shaykh shouted out. ‘You little Turk, look
carefully!’ Then he turned his gaze toward him, lifted up his other foot, and
placed it in the middle of the burning brazier. The Atabeg was astonished and
asked forgiveness. He went back aston- ished."69 A similar
account states that people objected to the Atabeg: "He spends a whole week
in the bath-house, night and day, one leg next to a servant and the other next
to the son of the headman. He’s set up a brazier and is making kabob. He takes
a kiss from this one, and a kiss from that one! What is left?" When the
Atabeg went to investigate, he witnessed the same miracle described in the
previous account.70 This is a very stylized account. As Nasrollah
Pourjavady observes, "His foot, lowered into the hot coals, does not burn,
demonstrating that he is not captive to the flames of lust but has already
conquered this internal fire."71
In another instance, it is reported that the Shaykh
refused to preach until the same young boy was brought before him to sit in the
front row.72 Lest someone think that these were instances of lust or
lasciviousness, Shams ad-Din states, "He didn’t incline to these beautiful
forms out of appetite. He saw something that no one else saw. If they had taken
him apart piece by piece, they would not have found an iota of appetite."
Rather it appears that shahid-bazi was a practice that served two
functions. First and foremost, the Shaykh would witness the self-disclosures of
Divine beauty in their most perfect configuration in the human being. Second,
it would serve to combat the blaming nature of the lower soul, such that those
who were not able to abide such acts would be turned away from the path for
which they were not qualified. The place of shahid-bazi in Shaykh
Ahmad’s spiritual practice will be examined in greater depth in Chapter 3.
The main element of Shams ad-Din’s accounts that
resonates with other hagiographies is the claim that Ahmad was far superior to
Abu Hamid in spiritual attainment. Like many of the hagiogra- phers examined
below, Shams ad-Din Tabriz! used the relationship between the Ghazal! brothers
as an example of the superiority of spiritual knowledge—knowledge by
presence—to all other forms of knowledge, a theme that runs throughout the Maqalat.
This is most evident in the following passage:
After all, look at that great man [Abu
Hamid Ghazali] in relation to Ahmad Ghazal!. His crime was simply that he sent
books to him,73 for the sake of repelling the denunciation of the
people: "Sometimes you should quote from this book, so it will stop the
tongues of the criticizers." He [Ahmad] didn’t let his brother into his khanqah.
One report is that Ahmad commanded him to travel for seven years, another that
it was fifteen years. He was saying, "Is this a pigsty so that, as soon as
a state overmasters you, you come in here?"
"I mean, I have no wish from
these companions. First, I don’t gain any knowledge from you. On the contrary,
you will grasp my words well when you make yourself totally present through
need and when you empty yourself of your own knowledge. Even then, you may not
grasp my words."74
Here, as in Shams ad-D!n Tabr!z!’s words regarding Ahmad
al-Ghazali, there is nothing historical. Judging from the context, he is likely
transmitting from an oral tradition regarding Ahmad al-Ghazal! that was
particular to the region of Tabriz. In one account, Shams ad-Din Tabrizi is
said to have received an initiation from one Rukn ad-Din Sujasi Mahmud
at-Tabrizi (d. 595/1199), who was initiated by Qutb ad-Din al-Abhari (d.
577/1181), who received initiation from Abu'n-Najib as-Suhrawardi.75
It may be that Shams ad-Din's understanding of Ahmad al-Ghazali reflects an
oral tradition that came through this Sufi lineage. In any event, it seems
that, as with the story in Tabsirat al-mubtadi, such accounts reflect
embellishments that accrued over several generations.
While to some it may seem evident that the
hagiographical literature of the Sufi tradition would provide a more partisan view
than the general and local biographical literature, which espouses a different
historiographical aim, in fact, almost all medieval and even modern
biographical works of the Islamic tradition must be interpreted in light of
shifting institutional interpretations and appropriations. Not only must the
hagiographies of such works as Abd ar-Rahman Jami's (d. 833/1477) Nafahat
al-uns (Breaths of Intimacy) and Ibn al-Mulaqqin al-Misri's (d. 804/1402) "Tabaqat
al-awliya} (Biographies of the Saints) be treated with caution,76
so, too, all the biographies should be examined with an eye toward the purposes
for which they were written and the predilections of their authors. This is
especially true with Abu'l-Faraj Abd ar-Rahman Ibn al-Jawzi's (d. 597/1201) al-Muntazam
fi't-ta’rikh al-muluk wa'l-umam (The Classification of Kings and Nations)
and Kitab al-qussas wa'l-mudhakkirm (The Book of Storytellers and
Preachers),77 which, because of their early dates, written within
seventy years of Ahmad al-Ghazali's death, and the tremendous importance of
their author, have influenced many subsequent biographers.
Although the Arabic and Persian biographical literature
provides over twenty biographies of Ahmad al-Ghazali, totaling more than
seventy pages, less than a third of these pages contain original material.
Since many of these entries derive some of their information from previous
biographical sources, and some derive all of their information from previous
sources, they fall naturally into three categories: original sources that
provide all or mostly original material in relation to the extant biographical
tradition; middle sources that contain some new information or original
interpretations but also repeat information from earlier biographies; and
derivative sources based entirely on previous biographies.
Seven biographers, most writing within a century of
Ahmad al-Ghazali's death, provide significant information that is either
particular to their biographical entries or enters the extant biographical
tradition through them. They are Ibn al-Jawzi, Abd al-Karim al-Qazwini (d.
623/1226), Ibn an-Najjar al-Baghdadi (d. 634/1238), Abu’l-Barakat Ibn
al-Mustawfi (d. 636/1239), Ibn as-Salah ash- Shahrazuri (d. 643/1246),
Zakariyya b. Muhammad al-Qazwini (d. 682/1283-84), and Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani
(d. 853/1449). To these must be added Ibn Abi’l-Hadid (d. 656/1258), whose Sharh
Nahj al-balaghah (Commentary on the Path of Eloquence) marks the first
extant citation of certain episodes from al-Ghazali’s sessions, and Abu Sad Abd
al-Karim as-Samani (d. 561/1166),78 whose Dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad
(Addendum to the History of Baghdad) is probably the single most important
influence in the biographical tradition for Ahmad al-Ghazali. As-Samani is
cited directly by all of the above biographers save Ibn al-Jawzi and Zakariyya
b. Muhammad al-Qazwini, but his influence on Ibn al-Jawzi is evidenced by the
fact that several accounts that appear in Ibn al-Jawzi’s Muntazam and Kitab
al-qussas are transmitted on the authority of as-Samani in later biographies.
But since no printed edition of Dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad is available, we
cannot determine its exact contents.
In what follows, I will first examine the major
structural features of the original biographies listed above. I will then
examine eleven middle-source biographies that are partially dependent upon
previous biographies but which offer some new information or have had extensive
influence on subsequent works. Then I will briefly review the derivative works
that offer no new information but are nonetheless important for a full
understanding of the reception and interpretation of Ahmad al-Ghazali through
the ages.
As the first to include Ahmad al-Ghazali in an extant tabaqat
work, the famous Hanbali faqih, historian, and preacher Ibn al-Jawzi
provides much valuable biographical information. But due to Ibn al-Jawzi’s
harsh condemnations of Sufis and preachers, two categories in which Ahmad
al-Ghazali can be included, these contributions must be seen as particular
evaluations rather than objective historical presentations. This is especially
important because verbatim repetitions and traces of Ibn al-Jawzi can be found
in almost half of the later biographies, both attributed and unattributed.
Ibn al-Jawzi’s reports draw on Ahmad al-Ghazali’s public
sessions, oral reports transmitted from Qadi Abu YaTa b. al-Farra’ (d.
560/1165), and transmissions from Muhammad b. Tahir al-Maqdisi (d. 507/1113 or
14), a Sufi and a Hadith specialist whom Ibn al-Jawzi criticizes in his Muntazam
for transmitting amazing and laughable stories in his Safwat at-tasawwuf
(The Quintessence of Sufism), and for not practicing the proper methods in
weighing hadith (jarh).79 The stories of Ahmad al-Ghazali may
have been in Safwat at-tasawwuf, as Ibn al-Jawzi clearly had access to
this work, but in al-Muntazam they are related through the transmission
of one Muhammad b. Nasir al-Hafiz (d. 550/1155). Although the stories that Ibn
al-Jawzi selects from al-Ghazali’s public sessions have not been preserved in
the one extant manuscript of his sessions, comparison with what has been
preserved in both this manuscript and other tabaqat works reveals that
Ibn al-Jawzi selected the more scandalous passages. He appears to have taken
them out of their greater context to present a picture of al-Ghazali’s
preaching that supports the claim of Ibn Tahir al-Maqdisi, transmitted by Ibn
al-Jawzi, that "Ahmad al-Ghazali was a sign among the signs of God in
lying, gaining access to worldly goods through preaching."80
Ibn al-Jawzi’s accounts must thus be read both as an historical biography and
as an effort to protect institutional orthodoxy against perceived innovations.
As Abd ar-Ra’uf al-Munawi (d. 1030/1621) writes of Ahmad al-Ghazali in al-Kawakib
ad-durriyyah (The Brilliant Stars), "Ibn Tahir and Ibn al-Jawzi have
accused him of things following the custom of the muhaddithun and the
jurists."81 The main complaints found in the Muntazam
regard Ahmad al-Ghazali’s controversial teachings regarding Satan that will be
examined at the beginning of Chapter 4 and reports that he was given to the
controversial spiritual practice of shahid-bazi, sitting with young men
and gazing upon them as a means of witnessing the manifestation of God’s
beauty.82
The second earliest source is the more balanced: Abd al-Karim
al-Qazwini’s at-Tadwin fi akhbar Qazwin (The Registry Regarding Reports
from Qazwin).83 Al-Qazwini reports through Abu Sad as-Samani that
Ahmad al-Ghazali took to the practice of Sufism at an early age. Al-Qazwini has
not had any influence on the biographical tradition in Arabic, as is evidenced
by the fact that his account of Abu Hamid’s praise for Ahmad, "Glory be to
God! We search and Ahmad finds,"84 does not resurface until Abd
ar-Rahman Jami’s Nafahat al-uns,8 and the date al-Qazwini
gives for Ahmad’s death, Rabi al-Akhir 517 (May 1123), though more precise than
any of the Arabic accounts, is also not repeated until Nafahat al-uns
and Khwandamir’s (d. 942/1535-36) Ta’rikh habib as-siyar8
Furthermore, the one verse of Arabic poetry cited is not repeated in any other
accounts. Nonetheless, this account is important for two reasons. On the one
hand, it marks the point at which Arabic and Persian sources diverge; all other
Arabic accounts mark 520 as the date of death, whereas most Persian sources follow
al-Qazwlm. On the other hand, it marks the beginning of a trend in which Ahmad
is recognized as the spiritual superior of his older brother. This trend is not
exhibited in many other Arabic works, but it resurfaces in the Nafahat
al-uns and becomes an important aspect of the Persian hagiographical
tradition.
Dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad was
composed by the historian and foremost Shafi'i hadith authority of his
day, Muhibb Allah Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad b. Mahmud al-Baghdadi, known as Ibn
an-Najjar.87 It provides new and valuable information regarding
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s time in Baghdad and extols his virtues as an eloquent
preacher. Much of this account appears to rely on the history of Baghdad by Abu
Sa'd as-Sam'ani. Some of Ibn an-Najjar’s influence is thus an extension of
as-Sam'anl's influence. Ibn an-Najjar has had almost as much influence as his
erstwhile teacher Ibn al-Jawzi on the biographical tradition. He is the first
to record several verses of poetry that come to be the most cited in the
Ghazalian tabaqat tradition. Similar versions of one poem are repeated
in five subsequent biographies:
I am an ardent lover,
And my sorrow is great.
My night extends with no
dawn;
My eye wakes while they
sleep.
My eye sleeps not, due to
lightning;
And we drank it while they
abstained.
I have burning thirst, am
one ailing,
An adversary, and am
infatuated.
So my heart belongs to my
rebuker,
The handmaid of
passionate love.88
The following account is repeated in seven subsequent
biographies, thus constituting the most oft-repeated account of the Ghazalian tabaqat
tradition:
One day the reciter read
in front of him [al-Ghazali], “O
My servants who have been prodigal to
the detriment of their own souls! Despair not of God's Mercy. [Truly God
forgives all sins. Truly He is the Forgiving, the Merciful]” [Quran: 39:53].89
Then he said, "He honored them with
the ya’ of the idafah by saying O My servants'" [ya
'ibadi]. And then he recited:
Blame became easy for me [to bear] near
to her love, And the chain of my enemies, "Verily he is profligate."
I am deaf when called by my name, but
verily when I am told, "O slave of her," I listen.90
Though the first two pages of Abu'l-Barakat al-Mubarak
b. Ahmad Ibn al-Mustawfi's Ta’rikh Irbil (The History of Irbil) are a
verbatim repetition of the biographical entry from Ibn al-Jawzi's Muntazam,
with minor textual variations, the next three pages provide valuable details
available in no other account. Like Ibn an-Najjar, accounts of Ahmad
al-Ghazali's stay in Baghdad are reported on the authority of as-Sam'ani. But
the accounts reported through Shaykh Abu'l-Ma'ali Sa'id b. 'Ali (d. 625/1128)
provide far more detail. Abu'l-Ma'ali also transmits verses from al-Ghazali
through Qadi Abu Ya'la b. al-Farra’ (d. 560/1165) that are not recorded by any
other biographers.91 Al-Mustawfi is the first to attribute the works
Lubab al-Ihya’ and adh-Dhakhirah fi 'ilm al-basirah to Ahmad
al-Ghazali. We thus know that unless these were added by a later hand, within a
hundred years of his death al-Ghazali was considered to have authored these two
treatises. These are the only two works mentioned in the Arabic tabaqat
literature until the modern period. Not until Jami is there any account of his
Persian writings, and only the Sawanih and the 'Ayniyye are
mentioned, and not until az-Zirikli and al-Kahhalah in the twentieth century is
there any mention of other Arabic works such as at-Tajrid fi kalimat
at-tawhid and the erroneously attributed Bawariq al-ilma' fi radd 'ala
man yuharrimu as-sama'd2 But although Ta’rikh Irbil is
the first extant source to mention Lubab al-Ihya’ and adh-Dhakhirah
fi 'ilm al-basirah, it is not likely that this reflects Ibn al-Mustawfi's
influence, since none of the other material that is original to this account is
repeated by later biographers.
The first of the Shafi'i tabaqat works to include
a biography of al-Ghazali, Tabaqat al-fuqaha’ ash-shafi'iyyah
(Biographies of the Shafi'i Jurists),93 by the famous Shafi'i hadith
scholar Taqi ad-Din Abu 'Amr 'Uthman b. 'Abd ar-Rahman ash-Shahrazuri, known as
Ibn as-Salah, begins with a negative evaluation of Ahmad al-Ghazali's sessions.
Ibn as-Salah writes: "They comprise the ramblings and speculations of
preachers, and the insolences of backward Sufis, as well as their
obfuscations."94 This is followed by several pages of episodes
and quotations from al-Ghazali's sessions which, along with those related by
Ibn al-Jawzi and Abu Yala, expose other dimensions of the Majalis not
preserved in the extant manuscript. Other than the hagiographical accounts in
works such as Jami's Nafahat al-uns and Ma'sum Ali Shah Shirazi's Tarahq
al-haqa}iq (The Paths of Realities), this is the only biography
to list Abu Bakr an-Nassaj (d. 487/1094) as al-Ghazali's shaykh. In two
accounts, al-Ghazali is said to relate stories from an-Nassaj's shaykh,
Abu'l-Qasim al-Kurrakanl (d. 469/1076), though Ibn as-Salah expresses doubt as
to their authenticity. Again the influence of as-Samani is present, as it is on
his authority that Ibn as-Salah attributes to al-Ghazali the saying, "He who
is destroyed in God, his vicegerency is for God" (man kana fi'llahi
talafuhu kana ‘ala'llahi khalafuhu),95 which is also cited by
al-Ghazali in at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid.96 This is the
first occurrence of this saying in the extant biographical material. Several
slight variations are transmitted in the biographies written by al-Kutubi (d.
764/1362),97 as-Safadi (d. 765/1363),98 as-Subki (d.
771/1368),99 al-Misri (d. 804/1402),100 and al-Munawi (d.
1030/1621).101 But as with Ibn al-Mustawfi, it is more likely that
later biographers took this information from as-Samani than Ibn as-Salah, since
none of Ibn as-Salah's other material on Ahmad al-Ghazali is repeated in later
sources.
The one work that seems to have drawn from a completely
independent source for all of its information is Zakariyya b. Muhammad
al-Qazwini's Athar al-bilad wa-akhbar al-ibad, completed in the year
674/1276. Qazwini shows great deference to Ahmad al-Ghazali, referring to him
as the King of the substitutes (malik al-abdal), denoting a high rank
within the invisible hierarchy of the spiritual elite whom many Sufis believe
govern the world.102 Like Abd al-Karim al-Qazwini before him,
Zakariyya al-Qazwini relates a story of Abu Hamid's recognition of Ahmad's
attainments: "What has come to us through the path of devotion to study is
what has come to Ahmad through the path of spiritual exercises."103
He also tells us that the two were praying together and upon completion Ahmad
said to Abu Hamid, "Repeat your prayer because during your prayer you were
considering the price of a donkey."104 Such stories mark the
beginning of a trend that, as will be seen, begins to flourish in the
ninth/fourteenth century.
Qazwini also relates a story that would appear to
confirm Ahmad al-Ghazali's practice of shahid-bazi, which occupies much
of Shams ad-Din Tabrizi's account, and is mentioned by Ibn al-Jawzi. He writes
that Sultan Malik Shah was a spiritual disciple (murid) of Ahmad
al-Ghazali and that one day when Sanjar b. Malik Shah visited the Shaykh he kissed
Sanjar on the cheek. Upon hearing of this, Malik Shah told Sanjar, "You
have come to possess half of the earth. Had he kissed your other cheek, you
would have come to possess the whole of the earth."105 In
addition to allusions to controversial practices, this account portrays Ahmad
al-Ghazali in the role of Sufi guarantor of worldly power, a function often
attributed to Shaykh Abu Safid b. Abi'l-Khayr and other famous figures, but
rarely associated with Ahmad al-Ghazali. This work is thus significant for
exposing a mode of interpretation that is not revealed by the other original
sources, and rarely found in other primary sources.
Though not a tabaqat work, the most famous
composition of the usuli jurist Ibn Abi'l-Hadid, his commentary on the
famous collection of sayings, speeches, and letters of Imam Ali b. Abi Talib
(d. 40/661) compiled by ash-Sharif ar-Radi, Sharh Nahj al-balaghah,106
is included among the original sources because it marks the first extant
occurrence of several accounts from Ahmad's sessions that are later perpetuated
by other biographers. All of the original accounts concentrate on al-Ghazali's
"extolling Iblis for refusing to prostrate to Adam,"107 an
inclination for which Ibn Abi'l-Hadid repudiates al-Ghazali, "In his
preaching he followed an abominable path, extolling Iblis and declaring that he
is the master of those who testify to unity (al-muwahhidun)."m The
first two accounts are also cited by Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, and the third,
which closely resembles an account in the extant sessions,109 is
taken up by al-Kutubi, as-Safadi, and al-Munawi:
On another occasion he said, "Moses
and Iblis met on the road of Sinai, so Moses said, ‘O Iblis, why did you not
prostrate to Adam—peace be upon him?' He said, ‘Never! It is not for me to
prostrate to a man. How could I testify to His unity then turn to one other
than Him? But you, O Moses, you asked for the vision of Him, then you looked to
the mountain. So I am more sincere than you in testifying to unity.'"110
The remainder of the entry is drawn from Ibn al-Jawzi's Muntazam,
with the exception of the last line and one poem attributed to Bayazid
al-Bistami (d. 262/875), which is said to be an example of the many sayings Ibn
Abi'l-Hadid claims Ahmad al-Ghazali transmitted from him:
Who is Adam meanwhile,
And who is Iblis if not for You?
You try all, yet despite the trial
All love You.111
It is important to note that Ibn Abi’l-Hadid takes
al-Ghazali to task for his teachings on Satan, yet does not cite other Sufis
known for this view, such as Mansur al-Hallaj (d. 309/922) or al-Ghazali’s
disciple, Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani. This reveals one of the ways in which
al-Ghazali was perceived and received by later Islamic thinkers.112
Though Lisan al-mizan, written by the
jurisprudent historian and hadith specialist Shihab ad-Din Ibn Hajar
al-Asqalani, is sometimes noted for providing little original material, this is
not the case with Ahmad al-Ghazali.113 There are in fact many
original stories that are not repeated in any extant biographies. Much of this
biography is based on stories transmitted from as-Samani. But it is the only
biography to transmit an account from one Abu Fadl Mas’ud b. Muhammad
at-Tirazi. Both of the accounts from as-Samani and at-Tirazi record the
opinions of the Sufi shaykh and hadith specialist Yusuf b. Ayyub
al-Hamadani (d. 535/1140) that al-Ghazali was of a low spiritual rank and
inspired more by Satan than by God: "His words are like blazing fire, but
his support is Satanic not Lordly."114 Al-Asqalani also cites
Ibn Abi’l-Hadid’s Sharh Nahj al-balaghah as a source for al-Ghazali’s taassub
li-Iblis (Zeal for Iblis), in an account that resembles that of Ibn
al-Jawzi’s Kitab al-qussas wa'l-mudhakkirin,115 but is not
reported by Ibn Abi’l-Hadid. Another story is attributed to Ibn al-Jawzi’s Muntazam,
but it is not found in any of the printed editions.
Among the works that draw on earlier sources but also
provide new information, the Wafayat al-ayan wa-anba} abna}
az-zaman (The Passing of Notables and Tidings of the Sons of Time) of the
Shafi’i judge Shams ad-Din Ahmad b. Muhammad Ibn Khallikan (d. 681/1282) is the
earliest.116 Though no important new information is transmitted,
this biography is significant for its influence on later biographies. The first
paragraph is repeated verbatim, or almost verbatim, by as-Safadi, al-Kutubi,
al-Khwansari, and Shirazi, while parts of it are repeated by Ibn Kathir,
al-Isnawi, and Ibn al-Mulaqqin al-Misri:
He was an eloquent preacher, beautiful
to behold, the master of miracles and allusions, and he was among the
jurisprudents, although he inclined to preaching, such that it overcame him. He
taught at the Nizamiyyah university [madrasah], replacing his brother,
Abu Hamid, when he left teaching, abstaining from it. He summarized his brother’s
Ihya ulum ad-din in a single volume and called it Lubab al-Ihya,
and he has written another book that he called adh-Dhakhirah fi im
al-basirah. He traveled the country, dedicated himself to Sufism, and
inclined to isolation.117
Ibn Qadi Shuhbah also appears to have based the
introduction to his entry on Ahmad al-Ghazali on this paragraph, and he in turn
is cited by Ibn al-'Imad.118 Thus, after as-Sam'ani, Ibn al-Jawzi,
and Ibn an-Najjar, Ibn Khallikan’s account of Ahmad al-Ghazali has had the most
direct influence on later tabaqat works.
The biographical entries from the Uyun at-tawarikh
(The Sources of History) of the Syrian historian Muhammad Abu 'Abdallah b.
Shakir al-Kutubi (d. 764/1362) and Kitab al-wafi bi'l-wafayat (The Full
Account of Those Who Have Passed) of the Shafi'i biographer Salah ad-Din Khalil
b. Aybak as-Safadi (d. 765/1363) are almost identical.119 They
differ only slightly in the last paragraph, where as-Safadi ends with a story
from Ibn al-Jawzi’s Muntazam and the opinions of Ibn al-Jawzi, Ibn
Tahir, and a Sufi shaykh identified as ash-Shaykh Shams ad-Din regarding
al-Ghazali’s heterodoxy, whereas al-Kutubi skips the story and provides the
same opinions in a more summary fashion. The fact that as-Safadi’s account is
more detailed in this last paragraph implies that his account precedes
al-Kutubi’s. But as the two lived at the same time and died within a year of
each other, the exact relation is difficult to determine. Both accounts begin
with a verbatim repetition of Ibn Khallikan’s introduction and cite all the
poetry first transmitted by Ibn Najjar, with slight variations in two of the
three poems. Another verse of poetry is transmitted that is first cited by Ibn
Abi’l-Hadid:
Layla and I were ascending in passion,
When we became complete, I stood firm and she slipped.120
A slight variation of this poem, in which the
"I" is replaced with "we," is the only poetry from Ahmad
al-Ghazali transmitted by Ibn al-Jawzi.121 Like Ibn as-Salah
ash-Shahrazuri, as-Safadi and al-Kutubi transmit excerpts from al-Ghazali’s
sessions that are not found in the extant sessions and are not present in
earlier tabaqat works:
When the story of Adam was mentioned,
and that he granted his son David long life, then refused it, he said,
"The angel of death came to him and he resisted it, and it was as if the
tongue of the situation addressed the spirit, ‘You are the one who lamented
yourself when you were commanded to enter this body and you said, "It is a
dark, impure house." So what difficulty is there for you in leaving it?’
And it was as if it responded with the tongue of the state:
We descended to it reluctantly but when
Habituated, we left it reluctantly.
It is not the abode we love; but the bitterest of life
is still separation from whom we love."122
Compared to the extant sessions, such accounts show a
concern for some of the same themes and the citation of similar ahadith
and Quranic verses, though the words attributed to al-Ghazali are not as
perspicacious. The emergence of such accounts in the biographical tradition
thus indicates that the sessions may have been more widely available than is
indicated by the one extant manuscript.
The historical work Mir’at al-janan (Mirrors of
the Soul) by the famous Yemeni Sufi scholar 'Afif ad-Din 'Abdallah b. Asad al-Yafi'i
(d. 768/1367) includes a short entry on Ahmad al-Ghazali.123 All of
the historical information is repeated from the first paragraph of either
al-Kutubi or as-Safadi. Nonetheless, it is regarded as a middle source because
it is the first extant biographical source to follow the aforementioned Sufi
texts in referring to Ahmad al-Ghazali as Shaykh, and as the Shaykh of shaykhs (Shaykh
ash-shuyukh), a trend that comes to predominate in later works.
The Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah (Biographies of the
Shafi'is) of Taj ad-Din Abu Nasr 'Abd al-Wahhab b. 'Ali as-Subki also refers to
Ahmad as Shaykh, but provides mostly unoriginal material.124
As-Subki cites as-Sam'ani, Ibn an-Najjar, Ibn as-Salah, and Ibn Khallikan and
transmits one account from the sessions that is also found in as-Safadi and
al-Kutubi:
In one of the gatherings for his
sessions he was asked about the saying of 'Ali—may God be pleased with him and
bless his face—"If the veil were removed I would not increase in
certainty," and the saying of Abraham, the intimate of God—peace be upon
him—"‘Show me how You bring the dead to life.’ He said, ‘Do you not
believe?’ He said, 'Of course, but so that my heart may be tranquil'"
(2:26). So he (al-Ghazali) said, "Denial overcomes certainty, and denial
does not overcome tranquility. God said, 'And they denied them, though their
souls acknowledged them wrongfully and out of pride’” (27:14).125
Nonetheless, as-Subki provides one original account from
the noted Hadith specialist al-Hafiz as-Silafi al-Isfahani (d. 576/1180-81),
who reports that he attended a gathering in the ribat of Hamadan where
"there was intimate friendship and affection between us; and he was the
most intelligent of God’s creation, the most capable of them in speech, an
outstanding scholar in jurisprudence and other matters."126
As-Subki’s most important contribution is to provide the name of one of the
compilers of al-Ghazali’s sessions in Baghdad, Sa'id b. Faris al-Labbani, and
he is the only author to tell us that there were eighty-three sessions
contained in two volumes.127 Ibn as-Salah marks the number of
volumes at four, but gives no indication of the number of sessions.128
As the one extant manuscript only contains a little over twenty sessions,
as-Subki’s account is important for establishing the potential veracity of the
excerpts provided by other biographers. As-Subki is also the first biographer
to cite these two lines of poetry from al-Ghazali, the last of which is also
found in the extant sessions:
When you attend kings, then wear
The clothes of most powerful protection;
And when you enter, enter blind,
And when you leave, leave mute.129
Though the Tabaqat al-awliya1
(Generations of the Saints) of Ibn al-Mulaqqin Siraj ad-Din Abu Hafs 'Umar b.
'All al-Misri (d. 804/1401) contains sentences from Ibn Khallikan and
as-Sam'ani, most of the material provided is not available in any other biogra-
phies.130 A commentary on the hadith qudsi, "He is a
liar who claims love for me then sleeps when the night comes,"131
followed by the verse of the Quran, Verily God is a guardian over you
(4:1), is also trans- mitted.132 These citations are also found
together in the extant sessions, and although the general meaning of
al-Ghazali’s commentary is the same, the words are not.133
The first Persian biographical entry for Ahmad
al-Ghazali is found in the hagiographical tabaqat work Nafahat al-uns
min hadarat al-quds by the famous Sufi author Nur ad-Din 'Abd ar-Rahman
Jami (d. 883/1477). Little new information is provided here, but it is the
first biography to list the Sawanih among al-Ghazali’s works and to cite
some of its passages. In his entry for ‘Ayn al-Qudat, Jami extols al-Ghazali's ‘Ayniyye:
"In eloquence, elegance, fluidity, and facility, one can say that it has
no peer."134 Jami's biography marks the first point at which
the information from al-Qazwini's Ta’rikh Qazwin reenters the
biographical tradition. But whereas Qazwini relates one story that implies the
spiritual superiority of Ahmad over Abu Hamid, Jami uses the two brothers to
imply the superiority of the Sufi way over that of jurisprudence, the
superiority of the inward sciences (ilm-i batini) over the outward
sciences (ilm-i zahiri). In response to an inquiry of his brother's
whereabouts, Jami has Ahmad reply, "He is in blood"; when his words
are conveyed to Abu Hamid, he responds, "He spoke the truth; I was
pondering one of the many issues pertaining to menstruation."135
Here the mode of interpretation that is most apparent in Shams ad-Din Tabrizi's
Maqalat enters the biographical/ hagiographical tradition.
This is an interpretive trend that continues throughout
the Persian hagiographical tradition. The history of Persian Sufism, Rawdat
al-jinan wa-jannat al-janan (The Meadows of Paradise and the Gardens of the
Soul) of Hafiz Husayn Karbala’i Tabrizi (d. 11th/16th century) and the Jawahir
al-asrar (The Pearls of Secrets),136 a commentary on Jalal
ad-Din Rumi's Mathnawi by Husayn b. Hasan Sabzawari (d. 1212/1797-98)
discussed below, continue this trend by repeating the stories of Ahmad taken
from Jami and providing previously unrecorded accounts. Though their late
occurrence calls the veracity of these and other such stories into question, it
is important to take full account of them because they demonstrate how the
historical relationship between Ahmad and Abu Hamid came to be seen as a
reflection of the predominance of Sufi knowledge, or presential knowledge (al-im
al-laduni), over all other forms of knowledge, be they transmitted (naqli)
or rational (aqli), a position that Ahmad maintained throughout his life
and which Abu Hamid clearly advocates, especially in some of his later
writings.137
Nafahat al-uns also
reintroduces the practice of shahid-bazi that predominates in Shams
ad-Din Tabrizi's accounts of Shaykh Ahmad. Although the practice is not
referred to in his entry on Ahmad al-Ghazali, elsewhere Jami states, "A
group among the leading figures, such as Shaykh Ahmad Ghazali and Awhad ad-Din
‘Iraqi138 occupied themselves with contemplating the beauty of
sensory loci in forms. In those forms they witnessed the Absolute Beauty of the
Real—may He be exalted—though they were not attached to sensory form."139
Thus, like Shams ad-Din Tabrizi and in contrast to Ibn al-Jawzi, Jami saw
this practice in a positive light.
Tabrizi's Rawdat al-jinan is the only biography
to refer to Ahmad al-Ghazali as "the one whom the saints give the
appellation of the ‘Second Junayd.'"140 Though he does not
transmit any new material, Tabriz! is considered a middle source because he is
the first to bring certain writings from other Sufis, as well as certain of
Ahmad al-Ghazali's writings into the tabaqat tradition. Among the former
he cites the passage from Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani's Zubdat al-haqa’iq, translated
above, and the passage from the Tabsirat al-mubtadi’ wa'tadhkirat al-muntah!11
Tabrizi is the only biographer to note the correspondence that transpired
between al-Ghazali and Ayn al-Qudat. He cites a long passage from the most
extensive of these correspondences, the Risala-yi 'Ayniyye, written by
Shaykh Ahmad in response to questions posed by Ayn al-Qudat.142 The
remainder of the entry is comprised of direct citations from Jami's Nafahat
al-uns and Yafifi's Mir’at al-janan.
Al-Kawakib ad-durriyyah
of Abd ar-Ra’uf al-Munawi (d. 1030/1621) is an important source because it is
the first to directly defend Ahmad al-Ghazali against his accusers, most
notably Ibn al-Jawzi.143 Most likely in response to the accusations
begun by Ibn al-Jawzi, Ibn Tahir al-Maqdisi, and Yusuf b. Ayyub al-Hamadani,
al-Munawi maintains that al-Ghazali "spoke without affectation."144
As noted above, he writes, "Ibn Tahir and Ibn al-Jawzi have accused
him of things following the custom of the muhaddithun and the
jurists."145 He thus provides the most decisive demonstration
of how later interpretations of Ahmad al-Ghazali not only turn toward the
positive but also oppose some previous interpretations. Most of al-Munawi's
biographical information was copied from either al-Kutubi or as-Safadi. The
only original information is one quote: "The jurists are the enemies of
those who are privy to spiritual realities (ma'an!)."146
Though presented as a commentary on Rumi's Mathnawi,
the beginning of Jawahir al-asrar of Husayn b. Hasan Sabzawari functions
as a hagiographical tabaqat work. Sabzawari transmits more passages from
the Sawanih than any biographer and, as noted above, he continues the
trend of Jami in relating stories that demonstrate the spiritual superiority of
Ahmad to Abu Hamid. Indeed, this is the richest source for stories of the
spiritual relationship between the two brothers. In several stories Ahmad
reprimands Abu Hamid for a lack of spiritual depth and focus. But the Jawahir
goes beyond the Nafahat to present Ahmad as the primary catalyst in his
brother's conversion to Sufism. The penultimate account is of a dispute between
the siblings regarding which of them had a greater claim to knowledge of the
truth: One day his brother, the famous Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, said to him,
"What a jurisprudent you would be if you strived more than this in [the
study of] the religious law." So Shaykh Ahmad said to him, "What a
knower you would be if you were to go to greater lengths than this in [the
study of] reality (al-haqiqah)." Abu Hamid said, "I can claim
that I have precedence in the field of reality (midmar al-haqiqah)."
The Shaykh replied, "The goods of conceptualization (at-tasawwur)
and accounting (al-hisab) do not have much currency in the market of
secrets." He replied, "Let there be a judge between us!" The
Shaykh said, "And the judge of this path is the Messenger of God."
The Imam said, "And how can he be so for us unless we see his place and
hear his declaration (bayan)?" Ahmad replied, "When someone
finds a share of his reality, who does not see him as he wants and does not
hear from his secrets and his realities?" From the effect of this rebuke,
the fire of jealousy was set ablaze within Imam Abu Hamid. The two of them
appointed the Messenger of God as judge between them and separated until night
came and each undertook his own manner of worship.
The Imam was overcome with begging,
crying, and pleading such that his eyes became warm. Then he saw the Messenger
of God come to him with one of his companions and he brought him good tidings
and the eminence of recognition (marifah) in this matter. In the hands
of that companion there was a plate of fresh dates, then he offered him a
portion of it and gave him those dates. When the Imam awoke, he saw those dates
in his palm, so he set out with joy and delight to his brother’s room and began
knocking on the door vigorously. Then Ahmad said from behind the door,
"The like of this does not require wonder," indicating the dates. The
Imam’s perplexity increased from amazement at these words. When he entered his
brother’s room he said, "And how did you know what came to me from this
honoring?" The Shaykh replied, "The Messenger of God did not give to
you until he had appeared to me seven times. If you do not believe me, then go
to the shelf of the room and look at what you see." When the Imam went, he
saw that plate which had been in the hands of the companion and it had
decreased by a portion which was the measure of these dates [in his hand]. Thus
he knew that what had come to him from that plate was also from the blessings
of the breaths of the Shaykh. So he undertook the path of [spiritual]
traveling, comportment, and the unveiling of the secrets of realities, such
that he became a follower of the companions of the path without a word, except
that he admitted the excellence of the Shaykh and saw himself next to him as a
child next to his older teacher.147
This trend is also found in the Ithaf as-sadah,
the most famous commentary on Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's Ihya1 culum
ad-din by Muhammad al-Murtada (d. 1205/1790):
The reason for his [Abu Hamid's]
traveling and asceticism is that one day he was preaching to the people and his
brother entered and recited:
You helped them when they stayed back,
Yet have yourself been kept behind while they went
ahead.
You have taken the role of guide,
Yet you will not be guided; you preach but do not
listen.
O whetstone, how long will you whet iron,
Yet not let yourself be whetted?148
The last work of this middle category is the Rawdat
al-jannat fi ahwal al-ulama} wa's-sadat (The Paradise of Gardens
Regarding the States and Joys of Those Who Know) of the great ShTi mujtahid
Sayyid Mirzah Muhammad Baqir al-Khwansari (d. 1313/1895).149 The
beginning of this biography is taken directly from Ibn Khallikan's Wafayat
al-ayan, and this is followed by an Arabic translation of the story cited above
from Sabzawari's Jawahir al-asrar.150 It is considered a
middle source because it transmits this account to Arab speakers and ends with
two Persian poems, the first of which is not found in any of al-Ghazali's
extant writings, nor cited in any other sources, and the second of which is
only cited in Khwandamir's Habib as-siyar:
What we have written cannot be taken away.
What we have picked up
cannot be put down.
What we believed has been but an illusion.
What a shame that we wasted life in vain.151
With poverty, if I desire the kingdom of
Sanjar, May my face be black like the parasol of Sanjar.
I will not buy a hundred kingdoms of
Khurasan for a barley [seed],
Since my soul found the news of
tasting in the middle of the night.152
Among the accounts that are based entirely on extant
previous works, and thus offer no new information or interpretation, are the
contributions from Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi (d. 654/1257), Nasrullah b. Muhammad Ibn
al-Athir (d. 636/1239), Shams ad-Din Muhammad b. Ahmad adh-Dhahabi (d.
748/1347), 'Abd ar-Rahman al-Isnawi (d. 772/1370), Isma'il b. 'Umar Ibn Kathir
(d. 775/1373), 'Abd al-Hayy Ibn al-'Imad (d. 1089/1678), and Muhammad Ma'sum
Shirazi (d. 1344/1926). To these could be added the Mu'jam al-mu’allifin
of 'Umar Rida Kahhalah,153 al-A'lam of Khayr ad-Din
az-Zirikli, and the Kashf az-zunun of Hajj! Khalifah Katip 'elebl (d.
1067/1657), though these three works offer few historical details as they are
more bibliographical records than biographical accounts. There is also brief
mention of Ahmad al-Ghazali as one of the luminaries of Tus in 'Abdallah Yaqut
ar-Rumi’s description of Tus in Mujam al-buldan.154
The information regarding Ahmad al-Ghazali in Sibt Ibn
al-Jawzi’s Mir’at az-zaman and Ibn al-Athir’s al-Kamilfi't-ta’rikh
is based entirely on Ibn al-Jawzi’s Muntazam,155 as are
adh-Dhahabi’s accounts in Ta’rikh al-Islam, al-Tbar fi khabar man ghabar,
and Mizan al-itidal.156 But in his entry for Tarkan Khatun, a
wife of the Saljuq Sultan Malik Shah, Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi tells us that Ahmad
al-Ghazali was one of two people to preach at her funeral in Baghdad in
515/1121.157
Al-Isnawi’s Tabaqat ash-shafi'iyyah paraphrases
information from Ibn Khallikan’s Wafayat al-ayan and transmits one
saying previously reported in ash-Shahrazuri’s Tabaqat al-fuqaha’
ash-shafiiyyah.15S The first two-thirds of Ibn Kathir’s al-Bidayah
wa'n-nihayah fi't-ta’rikh are taken directly from Ibn al-Jawzi and the last
third is from Ibn Khallikan.159 Ibn al-'Imad’s Shadharat
adh-dhahab repeats sections of adh-Dhahabi’s Tbar and Ibn
an-Najjar’s Dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad verbatim.160 And Muhammad
Ma'sum Shirazi’s Tara’iq al-haqa’iq,161 though more extensive
than any other biography, offers no new information as it is based on citations
from the Sawanih and verbatim repetition and translation from ten
biographical sources: Ibn Khallikan, Ibn an-Najjar, 'Abd ar-Rahman Jami,
Qazwini, Ibn al-Athir, Sabzawari, al-Khwansari, and Khwandamir, all of whom are
mentioned above, as well as TaTikh-i Guzideh and Riyad al-arifin.
Although such works provide no new material, they are important for tracing the
influence of other works and for examining al-Ghazali's position in relation to
other Sufis and scholars whose biographies are recorded in particular works.
These factors help us to evaluate how the understanding of Ahmad al-Ghazali
evolved from one generation of scholars to the next.
Viewed in historical succession, it is apparent that
interpretations of Ahmad al-Ghazali's persona differed from the very beginning.
The most important source for understanding his beliefs is obviously his own
writings and sessions. Therefore, the greatest service provided by the
biographers is to preserve many fragments from his public sessions. But through
their interpretation, commentary, and selective presentation the biographers
can sometimes obfuscate more than clarify. These interpretations represent a
history of attitude and opinion more than detailed historiography. They must
therefore be viewed in relation to one another in order to obtain a broader
understanding of the context in which they are transmitted.
The only first-hand accounts, those of 'Ayn al-Qudat,
present Ahmad al-Ghazali as an accomplished spiritual master and praise him as
both a scholar (alim) and a "recognizer," or gnostic (arif),
of the highest rank. His merit as a Sufi master is affirmed by the most
reliable second-hand account, namely that transmitted from Shaykh Abu'n-Najib
as-Suhrawardi by his nephew, Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi. His abilities as a faqih
and a preacher are then extolled by the renowned hadith scholar al-Hafiz
as-Silafi, as recorded in at-Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah. At the same time,
the negative opinion of Ibn Tahir al-Maqdisi and the scathing attack of Shaykh
Yusuf b. Ayyub al-Hamadani, presenting al-Ghazali as a seducing charlatan, are
transmitted by Ibn al-Jawzi and Ibn Hajar al-'Asqalani, respectively. These
conflicting opinions may reflect a divide along Shafi'i and Hanbali lines, as
'Ayn al-Qudat, as-Suhrawardi, as well as Ibn Hajar, al-Hafiz as-Silafi, and the
transmitter of his account, as-Subki, hailed from the Shafi'i school, whereas
al-Maqdisi, Yusuf b. Ayyub al-Hamadani, and the transmitters of their accounts
hailed from the Hanbali school. Though there may be merit to this perspective,
the division is not so clear, for the famous Shafiff Hadith specialist
Ibn as-Salah also took exception to the content of Ahmad al-Ghazali's sessions.
What is clear is that Ahmad al-Ghazali was a controversial figure whose words
gave rise to both the deepest of spiritual aspirations and the most vitriolic
of condemnations.
The differences among biographers most likely represent
both individual interpretations and institutional and sectarian divisions.
Al-Ghazali was first presented by al-Qazwini and Ibn an-Najjar in a positive
light; his orthodoxy was not questioned, and his dedication to the Sufi way and
eloquence as a public preacher were extolled:
He was among the best of people in words
he preached and among the most eloquent in expression, displaying a beautiful
disposition in all that he conveyed. He was gifted in his citations [of Quran, Hadith,
and poetry], the most gracious of the people of his age and the gentlest of
them in nature.162
At the same time, Ibn al-Jawzl condemned him in the
harshest of terms and conveyed the opinion that Ahmad al-Ghazali was a
heterodox charlatan, scoffing at al-Ghazali's claim to have seen the Prophet in
a waking vision and writing in response to his discussions of Satan:
I have indeed been astonished at the
like of such absurdities and abominable lies. How is it that such things can
take place in the City of Peace [Baghdad] and be passed over in silence? If
these things had been mentioned in a small village, [its people] would have
disowned such strange fanatic devotion to the Devil and rejected the claim that
he professes tawhid on the basis of the words of God [to Satan]: Surely
My curse shall be upon thee till the Day of Judgment (38:78), as well as
the claim that he is frequent in the performance of divine worship. It has been
known all along that he [Satan] occupies himself with nothing except opposing
the good and urging people to disbelieve and commit acts of rebellion [against
God].163
Due to the extensive influence of Ibn al-Jawzi on
subsequent authors, many biographers over the next three hundred years
reflected some aspect of this attitude, though not with such vitriol. During
this time, there are two fundamental strands: one is a negative evaluation, as
exhibited by Ibn al-Jawzi and Ibn as-Salah; the other is a more evenhanded
approach which deals mostly with historical details, such as is found in
adh-Dhahabi and as-Subki.
In the early period, there are few favorable accounts to
balance the scales. That of al-Qazwml stands alone in attributing to Ahmad al-Ghazali
a spiritual station superior to that of Abu Hamid. But in the late
ninth/fourteenth century, starting with Jami, the praise for Ahmad al-Ghazali
exhibited in the hagiographical perspective begins to grow, and soon comes to
predominate. Most later sources refer to him as "Shaykh," whereas
as-Subki and al-YafiI are the only biographers of the early middle period to do
so. In the eleventh/sev- enteenth century, Ibn al-JawzTs interpretation of
Ahmad al-Ghazali is directly challenged by Abd ar-Ra’uf al-Munawi. All
subsequent biographers until the twentieth century then take the more hagio-
graphical approach. The initial thrust of this hagiographical approach comes
through Persian sources and is carried forward by both Persian and Arabic
authors. It is possible that with these Persian sources we witness the
translation of an oral Sufi tradition into written works, as also occurred in
the accounts of Ahmad al-Ghazali provided by Shams ad-Din Tabrizi. This would
explain how several stories presenting Ahmad’s spiritual superiority to Abu
Hamid enter into the tabaqat tradition for the first time in Jami’s Nafahat
al-uns and especially Husayn b. Hasan Sabzawari’s Jawahir al-asrar.
But we have no means by which to measure the full content of the oral tradition
or its veracity. This change in perspective is not an isolated event; it is
part of a major historical trend wherein Sufism came to play an increasingly
central role in shaping the understanding of the Islamic sciences.164
As a result, there was a need to perpetuate the legendary images of many Sufi
figures to compensate for the lack of historical detail.
The true Ahmad al-Ghazali is thus not to be found in
either the hagiographical appropriations of Jami, al-Munawi, Sabzawari, and
others, nor in the institutional condemnations of Ibn al-Jawzi and Ibn
as-Salah, nor at a convenient middle point. Rather, these biographies should be
taken as multiple refractions and reflections of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s personality
through the personalities of his biographers and the agendas behind their
works. While we can sketch the bare bones of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s life, the
events that flesh out the skeleton to provide the picture of a living person
are conveyed to us by individuals who have continued to fashion the form in which
such stories are transmitted. Some anecdotes may retain the trace of an
authentic memory, but it is more likely that they are fictions, extrapolated
from impressions derived from his writings and sessions. What comes through
this centuries-long process thus represents a collage of visceral reactions,
institutional interpretations, and personal opinions which, when viewed in
light of one another, may capture the person of Ahmad al-Ghazali better than
mere historiography.
Chapter 2
The Life and Times of
Ahmad al-Ghazali
Abu Hamid and Ahmad al-Ghazali were natives of Tus, a
small region in Khurasan just fifteen kilometers northwest of present-day
Mashhad. The region of Tus was known to have three major cities, Tabaran,
Nuqan, and Radkan, the first often being identified as the city or town of Tus.
It is most likely that the Ghazali brothers grew up in a township of
Tus/Tabaran named Ghazal, hence the name al-Ghazali. The Tus of the 6th/11th
century in which they lived was destroyed in 618/1221 during the Mongol
invasion. It was rejuvenated in 637/1239, only to be decimated once again in
791/1389 by the armies of Timur Lang. Though rebuilt again in 809/1406-07, Tus
was never to regain its former size, as it was eventually eclipsed by the
greater splendor of nearby Mashhad, which grew around the tomb of the seventh
Shiite Imam, All ar-Rida (d. 203/818), as it became a prominent site of
pilgrimage.
Though of modest size, Tus produced some of the most
influential scholars of Islamic history. Not only did the Ghazali brothers hail
from this now deserted town, so too did the famous Firdawsi (d. 411/1020), who
is credited with single-handedly reviving and preserving the Persian language
through his Shah-namah. Nasir ad-Din Tusi (d. 672/1274), the great
reviver of Ibn Sina’s philosophy and perhaps the greatest philosopher and
astronomer of the thirteenth century, also claimed Tus as his home town, as did
the famous Abu Nasr as-Sarraj at-Tusi (d. 378/988), author of Kitab al-Luma
fi't-tasawwuf, one of the most important handbooks of early Sufism. Not
least among the influential scholars of Tus was the famous Saljuq vizier
Abu’l-Hasan b. All at-Tusi, known as Nizam al-Mulk (455-85/1063-92), whose
policies helped to fund and encourage many generations of scholars. With such an
array of famous scholars, Tus was among the most intellectually influential
regions per capita of classical Islam.
The Ghazali brothers lived at a time when political
instability was giving way to a period of remarkable intellectual fervor. The
instability had been marked by the last phase of the "Daylami
interlude" in which the Ziyarids (315-483/927-1090) controlled the Caspian
provinces down to Isfahan,1 with only a small mountain province for
the last sixty years of their rule, the Buyids (320-454/932-1062) ruled in most
of Persia and Iraq, and the Musafirids (304-483/916-1090) ruled in northern
Persia and Azerbaijan. This was followed by several waves of Turkic tribes,
such as the Samanids (204-395/819-1005), who ruled Transoxiana and Khurasan,
and the Ghaznavids (365-431/976-1040), who controlled Khurasan, Khwarazm, and
Afghanistan and went as far west as Ray and Hamadan. Extensive disputes between
ShiTs and Sunnis, followed by major disputes between the Hanafi and ShafiT
schools of law, had also contributed to the instability of late fourth- and
early fifth-century Iran. But this then gave way to a period of stability under
the vast centralizing rule of the Turkic Saljuqs, who ruled Iraq, Iran, and
Khurasan from 429/1038 to 552/1157, though their historical influence extends
far beyond these 123 years.
In the absence of the genealogical claim to legitimacy
similar to that of the Abbasid caliphate, the Saljuqs proved adept in
establishing other modes of legitimization.2 An integral component of
their claim to legitimacy was the defense of the Abbasid caliph al-Qa’im biAmr
Allah (422-67/1031-75) by the Turkish warlord Tughril Beg (431-55/1040-63) in
450/1058. It is reported that under siege by Fatimid-backed forces, the Turkish
general Basasiri, who had captured Baghdad, made the khutbah in the name
of the Fatimid caliph, Abu Tamim al-Mustansir (427-87/1036-94), exiled the
Abbasid caliph to Ana, and killed many of his administrators. Al-Qa’im bi-Amr
Allah then begged the Saljuqs for help, there being no other place to turn.
Many sources record this desperate plea: "O God! O God! Save Islam! The
cursed enemy has overcome us, and the Qaramati propaganda has spread!"3
Tughril is then said to have heeded the call, responding through the language
of revelation: Return unto them! For we shall come unto them with hosts they
cannot withstand, and we shall expel them hence, abased, and they shall be
humbled (Q 27:37). Tughril is further depicted as having restored the
caliph, re-established social order, and defended a normative interpretation of
Islam. As C.E. Bosworth writes:
Toghril's march to Baghdad has often
been viewed as a Sunni crusade to rescue the caliph from its ShlI oppressors. .
. . We can only guess at Toghril's inner motives, but it is surely relevant to
note that his Iranian advisers include many officials from Khurasan, the most
strongly Sunni part of Iran.4
Whatever the particular motives of Tughril and the
Saljuqs may have been, their rule served to sustain the Abbasid caliphate and
consolidate Sunni orthodoxy. As Francis Robinson observes:
The caliphate was given another lease on
life as the Turks freed the Abbasids from their Buyid thralldom and created a
new institution, the universal sultanate. Henceforth the caliph bestowed
legitimacy on the effective holders of power as he did when he crowned the
first Seljuq sultan in 1058, while it was now the sultan's duty to impose his
authority on the Islamic community, defending it against attacks from the
outside and denials of God's word within.5
Though the Saljuqs outwardly paid homage to the Abbasid
Caliph and were in need of his blessings to sustain the legitimacy of their
sultanate, they would at times remind the Caliph where the power now resided,
as evidenced by the Saljuq Sultan Malikshah's (46585/1073-92) insistence that
the Caliph leave Baghdad in 485/1092, and his refusal to give the Caliph any
reprieve.6 Indeed, Malikshah seemed bent upon joining the power of
the sultanate to that of the caliphate.
In addition to the political mechanisms to legitimize
their rule, the Saljuqs sought to undergird their claims to Islamic legitimacy
by supporting scholars and other religious figures. This was not done through
direct political action but through the establishment of waqfs
(endowments) that benefitted men of religion in all spheres, particularly
within Sunni Islam and among Sufis. Just as waqfs served to consolidate
and perpetuate legal schools, chiefly the Hanafi and ShaflI, so too did they
serve to cultivate and perpetuate the influence of Sufism.7 Saljuq
rulers, their wives, and their viziers sought the counsel of Sufi masters and
in several cases provided ample support for the establishment of Sufi ribats
and khanqahs. While this period is
often known as one of Sunni revival in which theology (kalam)
and jurisprudence (fiqh) were reformulated in ways that buttressed the
"consolidation of Sunni authority as the dominant ethos of rule,"8
it also saw the broad development in Sufi thought and the reemergence of Sufism
as an influential component of Islamic life and thought.
The main architect behind this dimension of Saljuq
legitimization was the aforementioned Saljuq vizier, Nizam al-Mulk
(45585/1063-92), who was so central to Saljuq rule that his period of service
is referred to by Ibn al-Athir as "the Nizamiyyah state" (ad-dawla
an-nizamiyyah).9 Nizam al-Mulk proved remarkably effective in
creating a vast system of education that served to bolster the Saljuq
reputation by providing support for Sunni orthodoxy. Though the central
component of this movement was madrasahs, the Saljuq vizier also patronized the
Sufis and was said to have funded many khanqahs. He was not the first to
establish madrasahs, as some have claimed,10 but he was the first to
establish fixed stipends and to recognize the value to the state of supporting
scholars and establishing an intricate educational system.11 These
efforts to support both scholars and Sufis served in many ways to define the
arena in which the Ghazali brothers came to maturity. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali
played a defining role in buttressing Sunni orthodoxy and in reintroducing Sufi
ideas into mainstream Sunni Islam.12 Ahmad al-Ghazali’s role was
focused on Sufism, where he appears to have also been the beneficiary of the waqfs
given by both the men and women of the Saljuq regime. During their lives, the
Saljuq empire was at its peak, and though Abu Hamid traveled beyond its
heartland to Damascus and Jerusalem, Ahmad al-Ghazali lived his entire life in
the central lands of the Saljuq empire; they controlled every region he is
known to have traveled, from Khurasan in the northeast to Baghdad in the south
and Tabriz in the northwest.
The Stages of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s Life
Though the historically accurate information in the
primary sources may be scant and not all of it can be corroborated, there is
nonetheless enough information to trace the course of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s life
through five periods: (1) a period of childhood and education in Tus and
perhaps Jurjan; (2) a period of spiritual training under Shaykh Abu Bakr an-Nassaj
(d. 487/1094) in Nishapur; (3) a period of preaching and teaching in Baghdad;
(4) a period in which he attended to his brother’s family in both Baghdad and
Tus; and (5) a period of itinerant preaching, which came to an end with his
death in Qazwin in either 517/1123 or 520/1126. Unfortunately, this is only a
rough outline and the exact dates for each period are difficult to identify.
As many details of Ahmad's life can be brought into full
relief only by examining the treatment of Abu Hamid in the primary sources, an
accurate historical examination of the former's life will necessarily cast him
in the shadow of the latter. This is somewhat unavoidable, as it reflects the
focus of the primary source material. In Chapters 3, 4, and 5, Ahmad al-Ghazali
will be seen in his own light as a preacher and a Sufi Shaykh. In relation to
these functions, it is Abu Hamid who must stand in the shadow of Ahmad.
TUS
Ahmad al-Ghazali's earliest years were inextricably tied
to those of Abu Hamid. Thanks to the interest of many Muslim biographers in Abu
Hamid's education, we are thus able to trace the early years of Ahmad's life
more closely than we might otherwise expect. Both brothers were born in Tus.
The exact date of Ahmad's birth is not known, but it is said that he was born a
few years after Abu Hamid. Most scholars have maintained that Abu Hamid was
born in 450/1058, but as Frank Griffel demonstrates, internal evidence in the
letters of Abu Hamid Ghazali indicates that he was born circa 448/ 1056-57.13
Based on the date of 450/1058 for Abu Hamid's birth, Nasrollah Pourjavady
argues that Ahmad was born in 453, about three years after Abu Hamid,14
while Ahmad Mujahid maintains that Ahmad was born in either 451 or 452.15
Taking Griffel's recent findings into account, 450 or 451 would appear to be
the most accurate date.
We know nothing of their mother and little about their
father, both of whom passed away while the boys were in their youth. Several
biographers, such as as-Subki, Ibn Najjar, and adh-Dhahabi,16 relate
that their father was a weaver who sold his wares in the markets of Tus. But
this account likely results from the effort to explain the name al-Ghazzali,
rather than al-Ghazali, as a nisbah deriving from the occupation
of the ghazzal, meaning "spinner" in Arabic.17 As
most biographers accept that the name derives from Ghazalah, one of the
villages of Tus, this is at best a suspect piece of information.
In Islamic lore, the divergent roles
and talents of the Ghazali brothers are said to be prefigured in the prayers of
their pious father. As Taj ad-Din as-Subki reports
in an account that is likely more hagiographical than biographical:
[Their father] would frequent the
jurisprudents, sit with them, undertake to serve them and strive to do good for
them and provide for them as much as he was able, and when he heard their
discourse he cried. So he implored God and asked Him to provide him with a son
and make him a jurisprudent. In addition, he attended sessions of preaching,
and when the experience was joyous for him, he cried and asked God to provide
him with a son who was a preacher. So God answered his supplication. As for Abu
Hamid, he was the best jurisprudent (faqih) of his generation and the
leader of the people of his time, the master of his domain, whom both those who
agreed with and opposed him would cite . . . As for Ahmad, he was a preacher
whose admonitions would cleave solid granite and whose calls to recollection
would shake the descendants of those present.18
Before his death, their father is reported to have
entrusted them to the care of a friend, who is reported to have been a pious
man and a follower of the Sufi tradition;19 some speculate that he
was their first Sufi instructor. He undertook to care for the boys and attend
to their education. But when he had exhausted the funds provided by their
father, it became impossible for him to provide for them. He thus enjoined them
to go to the madrasah in Tus as if they were students of jurisprudence (fiqh),
that they might thereby obtain food. As Abu Hamid is reported to have said,
"We came to a madrasah seeking jurisprudence with no goal other than
obtaining food. Our study was for that, not for God."20 In
another account, Abu Hamid is reported to have said, "We sought knowledge for
reasons other than the sake of God; but knowledge refuses to be for anything
other than the sake of God."21 As Frank Griffel observes, many
aspects of this account seem highly stylized.22 This is most evident
in the prayer of their father, which supports the perception of the distinction
between the brothers in the later biographical tradition. Nonetheless, the
historical kernel, that the brothers’ father died while they were young and
provided them with little inheritance, and that financial circumstances led
them to seek provisions from the local madrasah, is most likely accurate.
Despite their ulterior motives, the brothers excelled in their studies. There
is no mention of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s educational biography in the sources, but
it is likely that he followed a path similar to that of Abu Hamid. While in
Tus, Abu Hamid is reported to have begun his study of the religious sciences
under Ahmad ar-Radhakani, about whom little is known.23
JURJAN
In his late teenage years, Abu Hamid left Tus to study
with Imam Abu Nasr al-Ismalll (d. 488/1095) in the city of Jurjan on the
Caspian Sea, some 350 kilometers west of Tus.24 Jurjan had served as
a capital for the Ziyarids (319-483/931-1090) during the first part of their
rule and had flourished as a center for the arts while under the Ziyarids, the
Samanids, and the Buyids. Abu Hamid’s move to Jurjan demonstrates the
importance this city had come to attain once again under the Saljuqs, being
rebuilt as a center of Islamic culture. Some believe this to be the first time
the brothers were separated,25 but as there is no information
regarding Ahmad’s life at this time, it is also possible that he accompanied
his older brother to Jurjan. As Ahmad’s later career and the accounts regarding
the extent of his knowledge from Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani and al-Hafiz as-Silafi
indicate that he must have received extensive training in fiqh and kalam,
it is not unlikely that the younger Ghazali joined his older brother on this
journey.
Although madrasahs had become an integral component of
intellectual development, there were many other institutions of higher
learning. As Roy Mottahedeh observes, "Even in the Saljuq period, as a
glance at the biographical dictionaries will show, large numbers of people
outside the madrasah system were considered ulema."26 George
Makdisi has noted that among these institutions were the jamifi the
mosque, and the mashhad?7 To these we should add the Sufi khanqahs,
as they appear to have been an important place of education for scholars of
many predilections. But despite the existence of these many institutes of
higher learning, the increased funding for madrasah education assured that many
scholars were in some way attached to the state. This extensive network of
educational institutions provided seekers of knowledge many opportunities to
advance their studies. Though we do not know exactly which type of institutes
they studied in, it does appear that the Ghazali brothers took full advantage
of the plethora of educational venues, the funding for students, and the
fertile intellectual soil that the two provided.
The eleventh century was not a time
of intellectual stagnation in which Muslims "turned in a horizontal spiral
around their tech- niques,"28 as has too often been maintained.
By no means was the dynamism of legal development stifled, as some have
declared, in following the scholarship of Goldziher, Schacht, and Hurgronje.29
Rather, this was a time of tremendous development
in which the teachings of fiqh, kalam, philosophy, and Sufism were all
to find new modes of expression. As Marshall Hodgson observes:
In the tenth and eleventh centuries,
all the different intellectual traditions were well matured. . . . Each
tradition was ready to look beyond its own roots. Now, in particular, the
Hellenists and the ulama’ fully confronted each other and the result was as
stimulating in the intellectual field as the confrontation of the adibs with
the Sharfism of the ulama’ had been frustrating in the social field.
On the
level of imaginative literature, we find the expression of a human image that
was relatively secular..............................................................................
Then in more explicit speculation,
where the assumption of SharI dominance was more pressing, we find a growing
pattern of free esoteric expressions of truths.
By the end of the eleventh century,
the political milieu was no longer ShlT (And fewer of the intellectuals were of
the old ShlI families.) Moreover, pressure for conformity on a Jamai-Sunnl
basis was gaining governmental support. But the confrontations had borne fruit.
And just as in the social and political life the various elements of urban
society had worked out effective patterns consistent in the supremacy of the
iqta-amlrs, so in intellectual life by then, ways had been found to accommodate
in practically all fields of thought a certain intellectual supremacy that had
to be accorded the madrasah-ulama’. So was ushered in the intellectual life of
the Middle Periods, in which the intellectual traditions were relatively
interdependent. The graduates of the madrasahs themselves eventually tended to
blur the lines between the kalam of the ulama’, the various sciences of the
Faylasufs, and even the adab of the old courtiers. The Faylasufs, in turn,
adjusted their teachings, at least in secondary ways, to the fact of SharI
supremacy.
And speculative Sufism penetrated everywhere.30
The Ghazali brothers were both among that class of
"madrasah ulama’" to which Hodgson refers, if not exemplars of it. As
such, they underwent an intense training in usul al-fiqh (the roots of
jurisprudence) and furu al-fiqh (the branches of jurisprudence), these
being the backbone of the madrasah education. But the very fact that this was a
period of intense development and intellectual cross-fertilization makes it
difficult for us to determine just what would have been the specific course
they studied. Unlike a century and a half later, the exact texts being studied
at this time are difficult to determine. In his Tahdhib al-asma’
wa'l-lughat, the famous Shafifi scholar Imam Abu Zakariyya an-Nawawi (d.
676/1277) lists what he believes to have been the most influential texts of
jurisprudence in the Shafifi madhhab, but of these only one, the Mukhtasar
of ash-Shafifi's pupil Abu Ibrahim Ismafil al-Muzani (d. 264/877), precedes the
fifth Islamic century. Nonetheless, a view of the intellectual activity of the
fourth/tenth century can give us some insight into the figures whose influence
would have to some degree determined the subject matter and materials studied
by the Ghazali brothers in their mastery of jurisprudence.
The most important figure for the development of usul
al-fiqh in the early fourth/tenth century was Abu'l-Abbas Ibn Surayj (d.
306/918), who was known to some as the "Young ShafiI" for his work in
establishing the methodology of usul al-fiqh and spreading the ShafiY
madhhab. There is no evidence that Ibn Surayj left extensive writings for
subsequent generations, but his students were the first generation to author
works that treated usul proper, especially Abu Bakr as-Sayrafi (d.
330/942), who is sometimes regarded as "the most knowledgeable scholar on usul
al-fiqh after ash-ShafiI,"31 and al-Qaffal ash-Shashi (d.
mid. 4th/late 10th century), who authored the influential book on usul
titled at-Taqrib, and of whom it is said "the fuqaha’ of
Khurasan issued from him."32 Ahmad and Abu Hamid thus came at
an exciting moment, when the methodology of usul was taking shape. They
would most likely have studied the writings of as-Sayrafi, the Taqrib of
ash-Shashi, and others who, according to Wael B. Hallaq, comprised the first
multigenerational collection of scholars to have at their disposal the
combination of traditionalist and rationalist approaches to fiqh
necessary for developing a fully formed science of usul33—a
science to which Abu Hamid gave another form of expression in his al-Mustasfa,
Shifa’ al-ghalil and al-Wasit al-wajiz, works that shaped the study
of usul al-fiqh for generations to come.
Abu Hamid did not study in Jurjan for more than two
years. He then returned (perhaps with Ahmad) to Tus, where he is reported to
have remained for the next three years, memorizing all he had previously
studied.34 Afterward, he traveled to the city of Nishapur, the
political, intellectual, and spiritual hub of Khurasan, about a hundred
kilometers southwest of Tus, to study with the famous scholar Imam al-Haramayn
Abu'l-Maall al-Juwayni (d. 478/1085), a noted ShafiY jurisprudent and the
leading Asharite theologian of his day.35 It appears that Ahmad
either traveled with Abu Hamid or followed shortly thereafter, but it is also
possible that his arrival in Nishapur preceded that of Abu Hamid. It is not
clear whether Ahmad came to study theology and jurisprudence like his brother,
or whether the goal of his journey was to be with Abu Bakr b. Abd Allah at-Tusi
an-Nassaj (d. 487/1094), a Sufi shaykh whose spiritual heritage traces back
through four generations to the famous Sufi master al-Junayd al-Baghdadi (d.
298/910). Whatever the original intention may have been, Ahmad kept the company
of an-Nassaj and appears to have kept Nishapur as his home until an-Nassaj’s
death. He was then named an-Nassaj’s successor and thus became a spiritual
master in his middle thirties, remaining so throughout his life. The nature of
the spiritual practices in which he may have participated at this time will be
examined in Chapter 3.
It is likely that the brothers had previously been
exposed to Ash’arite kalam, perhaps along with other forms of kalam.
While in Nishapur they both had their first opportunity to study with true
experts, people at the forefront of developing new expressions of this science.
That Abu Hamid was thoroughly versed in theology is evident from his tremendous
impact on its development, especially through his al-Iqtisad fi'l-itiqad
(Moderation in Creed).36 Ahmad’s exposure to kalam is,
however, undocumented. In his sermons there are several allusions to Ash’arite
positions, while the fact that he favored Ash’arism is attested to by a passage
in the Tajrid in which he criticizes many schools of theology, but
spares Ash’arism:
The tree of testifying to unity (tawhid)
is neither of the east nor of the west, it does not deny God’s attributes nor
does it multiply them. It is neither materialistic (dahriyyah) nor
dualistic, neither Jewish nor Christian, neither anthropomorphic nor
Mu’tazilite, neither Qadarite nor predestinarian (jabariyyah), rather it
is Muhammadan, heavenly.37
Though this passage can by no means demonstrate the full
breadth (or lack thereof) of his learning, it does demonstrate that like his
brother he most likely identified with the Ash’arite school of theology.
Shaykh Ahmad and Imam Abu Hamid
Though several biographers, beginning with as-SamanI,
write that Ahmad al-Ghazali took to the Sufi practice at an early age, implying
that he had begun to follow the spiritual path while in Tus,38 the
period in Nishapur marks the first point at which we can identify his definite
adherence to a particular Sufi lineage. It is also the first point at which
there is a definite divergence in the lives and pursuits of Ahmad and Abu
Hamid. Abu Hamid was dedicated to theology and jurisprudence and provided
instruction in these subjects in Nishapur until he left to join the scholarly
circle that Nizam al-Mulk had assembled in his camp. In 484/1091 he was
appointed lecturer in fiqh and kalam at the Nizamiyyah madrasah
in Baghdad and was soon recognized as the premier scholar of his day. Al-Katib
al-Isfahani writes, with some hyperbole: "The wonders of his knowledge
radiated to the East and West."39 Ahmad, meanwhile, spent these
years in adherence to the Sufi path, devoted, as best we can tell, to the
practices of remembrance (dhikr), seclusion (khalwah), and
solitude (uzlah) that many Sufis maintain are necessary for disciplining
the soul and cultivating the heart until it yearns for none but God.
Nonetheless, Ahmad clearly continued his studies of the religious sciences (al-ulum
ad-diniyyah) alongside his devotional practices; otherwise he would not
have been qualified to teach at the Tajiyyah madrasah in Baghdad, or to fill his
brother’s position at the Nizamiyyah madrasah several years later.40 Furthermore,
Abu Hamid’s association with Sufi teachings did not begin in Baghdad. While in
Nishapur, he studied with the Sufi shaykh Abu ’Ali al-Farmadhi (d. 477/1084),41
who was himself regarded by many as the Shaykh of Shaykhs (shaykh
ash-shuyukh) in the region of Khurasan.42 As both al-Farmadhi
and an-Nassaj had studied with many of the same Sufi masters, such as Imam
Abu’l-Qasim al-Qushayri (d. 465/1072), author of the famous Qushayri Epistle
(ar-Risalah al-Qush- ayriyyah), Abu’l-Qasim al-Jurjani (d. 469/1076), and
the tremendously influential Abu Sa’id b. Abi’l-Khayr (d. 440/1049), it is more
than likely that the two brothers traveled in the same circles and sat together
at the feet of masters of both the esoteric and exoteric religious sciences.
Indeed, posterity has viewed both brothers as men of great achievement in each
domain. As ’Ayn al-Qudat al-Hamadani writes:
O Friend! For some time nine scholars
who are firm in knowledge have been known to me, but tonight, which is Friday
night, the day for writing, a tenth became known to me. That is Khwajah Imam
Muhammad al-Ghazali [God’s mercy upon him]. I knew about Ahmad, but I did not
know about Muhammad. He is also one of us.43
That this was ’Ayn al-Qudat’s position is confirmed by a
passage in one of his letters: "Those who are among the wayfarers (salikun)
and have knowledge of the outward are very few, save ten people. Among these
ten people I do not know for certain of anyone who exists now. Khwajah Abu
Hamid Ghazali and his brother Ahmad are among this group."44
According to ’Abd ar-Rahman Jami, an-Nassaj was Ahmad’s
shaykh, and al-Farmadhi was Abu Hamid’s shaykh.45 It is most likely
that an-Nassaj and al-Farmadhi provided spiritual instruction for both
brothers,46 but that al-Farmadhi’s role in Ahmad’s life was more
intellectual than spiritual, such that Ahmad may have studied the Epistle of
al-Qushayri and other Sufi texts with al-Farmadhi, while an-Nassaj attended to
his spiritual training.47 Thus, al-Farmadhi was likely more
responsible for Abu Hamid’s spiritual training, while Ahmad followed an-Nassaj
and received the Sufi mantle (al-khirqah) from him.
That the Ghazali brothers were students of both the
inward and the outward sciences is emblematic of the relationship between these
fields, which were joined together by a membrane that simultaneously separated
them. Analyses of Sufism in this period must thus avoid a simplistic
bifurcation between the fuqaha,/ulama} and the
Sufis such as that found in Hamid Dabashi’s work on ’Ayn al-Qudat. Dabashi
argues that the Sufis were subverting both the "nomocentrism of the
clerical establishment" and the political authority of the Saljuqs,48
and maintains that Sufism and Islamic law represent
a reflection of two fundamentally
opposed interpretations of the Koranic revelation and the Muhammadan legacy.
The positive nomocentricity of Islamic law found the language of Islamic
mysticism as quintessentially flawed in nature and disposition. The feeling was
mutual. The Sufis, too, rejected the rigid and perfunctory nomocentricity of
the jurists as quintessentially misguided and a stultification of the Koranic
message and the Prophetic traditions.49
Nothing could be further from the reality of the manner
in which Sufism, law, and theology were intertwined in the lives of the Ghazali
brothers. As Ahmad states in one of his sessions, "The Shariah and the tariqah
(Sufi path) are two conditions for you to perform one cycle of prayer according
to what you have been commanded."50 This attitude is expressed
by many Sufis of this period. As al-Ghazali’s younger contemporary Sam’ani
writes, "You must devote your outer aspect to the Shariah and your innner
aspect to the haqiqah (reality)."51 This symbiosis between
training in tasawwuf and law was by no means new to this period. A
generation earlier, ’Abdallah Ansari counsels, "Make the Shariah the
sultan of your acts and the tariqah the sultan of your character traits.
Then you may perfect the noble character traits with the tariqah of the
Men [i.e., the Sufis] and arrange the character traits of submission and faith
by observing the Shariah."52 In the generations before them,
such luminaries as al-Junayd al-Baghdad! and Abu’l-Qasim al-Qushayr! are also
known to have combined training in jurisprudence (fiqh) with adherence
to the Sufi path. As Marshall Hodgson observes in discussing the relationship
between the Sufis and the Ahl al-hadith more than a century earlier,
"In some cases it is hard to draw a line between what was Sufi mystical
self-examination and what was Hadith! moralism."53 Many Sufis
not officially recognized as hadith scholars had some knowledge of both
fiqh and hadith. The biographical dictionaries of the Sufis, in which
are recorded the companions and sayings of many famous representatives, also
serve as repositories of hadith known to have been transmitted by them.
A close examination of these sources reveals that the proponents of Sufism drew
on the same materials as other scholars and constituted an integral component
of the scholarly community as a whole. The Ahl al-hadith movement, the
jurisprudents, and the Sufis comprised intertwining circles whose methods,
interests, and members overlapped. Whereas the jurisprudents, the Quran
reciters, and the Ahl al-hadith transmitted knowledge in a way that
could properly be called teaching (talim), the Sufis put more emphasis
on inner training (tarbiyyah) for the sake of purification (tazkiyyah).
But talim and tarbiyyah were by no means mutually exclusive. They
were in fact complementary parts of a greater whole. By observing how closely
connected the Sufis were with the Ahl al-hadith we can see that tarbiyyah
and tazkiyyah were not just individual spiritual practices but an
important aspect of early Islamic pedagogy and intellectuality.
A study of the biographies of early Sufis demonstrates
that the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad were an integral component of their
discourse and thus of their self-understanding. Well-established Sufis also
reached a high degree of competency in other fields. A noted hadith
scholar and one of the foremost authorities on Sufism, Abu Abd ar-Rahman
as-Sulam! (d. 412/1021) compiled the biographies and teachings of over one
hundred Sufis from the early Islamic period in his Generations of the Sufis
(Tabaqat as-sufiyyah). Among those he recorded as companions of the Sufis
and of the Ahl al-hadith are men such as Abu'l-Abbas as-Sayyar! (d.
342/953-54), a Sufi shaykh, jurist, and noted hadith scholar. According
to as-Sulam!, all the Ahl al-hadith were as-Sayyar!'s companions.54
Ruwaym b. Ahmad al-Baghdad! (d. 303/915) was among the most revered Sufi
masters of Baghdad. He is recorded by as-Sulami as a practicing jurist, a noted
reciter of the Quran, and a scholar of Quranic exegesis (tafsir).55
The most famous of the early Sufis, al-Junayd al-Baghdadi (d. 298/910), was
also a practicing jurist who studied with many scholars known to be directly
aligned with the Ahl al-hadith. Foremost among his teachers were Abu
Thawr (d. 241/855), the pre-eminent jurist of his day in Baghdad, and the
aforementioned Abu’l-Abbas Ibn Surayj, heralded by many as the leading scholar
of usul al-fiqh in his day. One disciple said of al-Junayd: "His
words were connected to the texts [i.e., the Qur’an and the hadith]."56
These few examples demonstrate that any theory that posits the fuqaha}
and the Sufis as diametrically opposed camps in a struggle for the heart of
Islam is based on disregard for the primary sources.
The notion that Sufi practitioners of this period
opposed the fuqaha} and represented a challenge to state
authority is at odds with the historical reality. Saljuq leaders, their
viziers, and their family members were known to have supported and even
frequented Sufi masters.57 Nizam al-Mulk frequented Sufis and fuqaha}
alike. He also established both madrasahs and Sufi khanqahs, as did
other less famous individuals, such as Abu Sad al-Astarabadi (d. 440/1048-49)
and Abu Sad al-Kharkushi (d. 1013 or 1016).58 Abu All ad-Daqqaq (d.
405/1015), renowned as a Sufi master, founded a madrasah in the city of Nasa.59
He and his more famous son-in-law, Abu’l-Qasim al-Qushayri, are said to have
taught in a madrasah that later became known as the Qushayriyyah madrasah.60
Shaykh Abu All al-Farmadhi professed a love for his shaykh that inspired him to
move from the madrasah to the khanqah.61 Given this
environment, it is most likely that both Ghazali brothers traveled freely
between madrasah and khanqah. It is reported that after leaving his
teaching position, Abu Hamid later returned to his homeland, where he spent his
last days providing instruction in a "khanqah for the Sufis, and in
a madrasah for the sake of those who seek knowledge."62
The interconnections between practitioners of both the
inward and outward sciences, as well as the free movement of such intellectuals
between the khanqah and the madrasah demonstrate that there was no clear
divide between the Sufis and the ulama}, nor between the
madrasah and the khanqah. The lines that have been drawn by secularist
and revivalist Muslim interpreters,63 as well as Orientalists, are
more a result of the modern mind in which Enlightenment and Protestant
Christian notions of mysticism are imposed upon the classical Islamic world.64
As in any healthy social environment, the intellectuals of this period
frequently criticized one another’s predilections, but they all participated in
the same discourse. Their particular interests and resulting identities often
differed, but still overlapped.
This aspect of the early middle period is essential for
understanding the intellectual and spiritual environment in which the Ghazali
brothers came to maturity. Though we are unable to determine the precise
details, it appears that while the intellectual and spiritual paths of Imam Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali and Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali did take different courses, they
often crossed. Ahmad excelled in the gnostic sciences, or sciences of
recognition (al-maarif),65 while maintaining his studies of
the religious sciences (al-ulum ad-diniyyah), and his brother rose to
the height of Ash’arl theology and Shafiff jurisprudence, while developing an
understanding of the sciences of recognition—one that eventually turned him
toward a path more akin to that of his younger brother.
After Abu Hamid al-Ghazali moved to Baghdad, it appears
that the brothers may have remained in close contact; for when Abu Hamid
underwent his now famous spiritual crisis,66 it was Ahmad who took
his place at the Nizamiyyah madrasah and cared for his family so that he could
travel and devote himself to the Sufi path. Whether Ahmad was already in
Baghdad at this time or if he came to Baghdad expressly to assist his brother
is difficult to discern. As several of Ahmad’s later biographers would have it,
he was in Baghdad sometime before his brother’s decision to leave the
Nizamiyyah, as he allegedly served as the catalyst for his brother’s spiritual
conversion.67 But such accounts reflect an interpretation of events
that is not available in any of the earlier sources. The political realities of
Baghdad may account for some of the factors that influenced the movements of
the Ghazali brothers. This is especially important because they lived in an age
when the institutions of knowledge and education were closely tied to the political
powers.68
Before his tenure at the Nizamiyyah, Ahmad had also
served for some time at the Tajiyyah madrasah in Baghdad, which had been
established by Taj al-Mulk Abu’l-Ghana’im Pars! [Farsi] (d. 486/1093), the
vizier of Tarkan Khatun, a wife of the Saljuq Sultan Malikshah, and Nizam
al-Mulk’s main rival to the vizierate of the Saljuq empire. According to C.E.
Bosworth, this was around 480 to 482.69 Taj al-Mulk most likely
established the madrasah named after him in order to make an important
political statement, as he built it next to the tomb of Shaykh Abu Ishaq
ash-Shlrazi (d. 476/1083-84), the first chair of the Nizamiyyah in Baghdad,
whose tomb was also constructed through his patronage. Though the duration of
Ahmad’s appointment and his exact responsibilities are not known, the fact that
he served at the Tajiyyah may be of some importance for understanding the
political inclinations of both brothers, for the Tajiyyah and the Nizamiyyah
madrasahs represented rival claims to state control. Though not all who studied
or taught at these institutions would necessarily be involved in, or even fully
aware of, these divisions, Ahmad al-Ghazali had clearly found favor with the
caliph and his wife, as is attested by the fact that he preached at the funeral
of Tarkan Khatun,70 and that several of the Saljuq rulers are
recorded among his disciples. The political conflict between Taj al-Mulk and
Nizam al-Mulk may therefore be of some importance for fully understanding the
positions of the Ghazali brothers.
According to most of the earliest sources, Tarkan Khatun
had been conspiring to have Malikshah replace Nizam al-Mulk with Taj al-Mulk by
casting aspersions on Nizam al-Mulk and searching for any fault for which he
might be held accountable.71 While Nizam al- Mulk was still in
power, the sultan awarded Taj al-Mulk the vizier- ate of his children and
entrusted to him the affairs of the harem. He further appointed him head of the
tughra (royal seal) and the insha1 (royal
correspondence).72 Omid Safi postulates that the increasing power of
Taj al-Mulk, and especially these appointments, was the impetus behind Chapter
41 of Nizam al-Mulk’s famous manual of statecraft,73 Siyasat-namah,
entitled "On not giving two appointments to one man," which begins:
Enlightened monarchs and clever
ministers have never in any age given two appointments to one man or one
appointment to two men, with the result that their affairs were always
conducted with efficiency and lustre. When two appointments are given to one
man, one of the tasks is always inefficiently and faultily performed; and in
fact you will usually find that the man who has two functions fails in both of
them, and is constantly suffering censure and uneasiness on account of his
shortcomings.74
These words appear to indicate a tension that had been
brewing within the Saljuq court, one that may well have been the cause of Nizam
al-Mulk’s assassination. In most secondary sources, such as Bernard Lewis’s The
Assassins, it is commonly accepted that Nizam al-Mulk was removed from this
world through the machinations of the fida}i Isma’llls.75
But the earliest primary sources offer an alternative account—that the
assassination of Nizam al-Mulk was the result of inner Saljuq rivalries, not
outer sectarian strife.
Taj ad-Din as-Subki offers both the theory of Isma'il!
accountability and Saljuq accountability. While he openly maintains that the
theory that lays responsibility at the feet of the Isma'llls is "closer to
the truth," he devotes only one paragraph to the discussion of this theory,
and several pages to how the soured relations between the sultan and the vizier
may have led to the latter’s assassination. As-Subki writes:
There are those who claim that the
sultan is the one who arranged the assassin for him. In support of that they
mention that estrangement (wahshah) had arisen between them. As we
mentioned before, Nizam al-Mulk honored the [Abbasid] caliph, and whenever the
sultan wanted to remove the caliph he prevented him from that and secretly sent
a message to the caliph informing him of it and directing him to attempt to win
over the favor of the sultan.76
As-Subki goes on to mention that in 485/1092 the sultan
"set out from Isfahan to Baghdad, intending to change the khalifah,
and he knew that would not come to him so long as Nizam al-Mulk was alive. So
he worked to have him killed before his arrival in Baghdad, as we have
explained."77
As-Subki is by no means the only historian to offer this
"alternative theory." Ibn Khallikan writes, "It is said that the
assassin was suborned against him by Malikshah, who was fatigued to see him
live so long, and coveted the numerous fiefs he held in his possession."78
However, he also mentions another theory, which has nothing to do with
the Isma'llls:
The assassination of Nizam al-Mulk has
been attributed also to Taj al-Mulk Abu’l-Ghana’im al-Marzuban Ibn Khosru
Firuz, surnamed Ibn Darest; he was an enemy of the vizier and in high favor
with his sovereign Malikshah, who, on the death of Nizam al-Mulk, appointed him
to fill the place of vizier.79
Whether the assassination was planned by Taj al-Mulk or
not, he was clearly held responsible for it by others: "Ibn Darest was
himself slain on Monday night, 12th Muharram, 486 (February A. D. 1093); having
been attacked and cut to pieces by the young mamluks belonging to the household
of Nizam al-Mulk."80
It is evident that both Malikshah and Taj al-Mulk had
something to gain from the elimination of Nizam al-Mulk: the latter would rise
in position, as he did for a short time, and the former would have his main
obstacle to the dethronement of the ’Abbasid caliph removed. The IsmaTlis, on
the other hand, had little to gain, knowing that such an act would raise the
ire of the Saljuqs, and they certainly did not have the strength to overthrow
them. The most plausible account of Nizam al-Mulk’s assassination would thus
seem to be that proferred by Rawandi and Zahir ad-Din Nlshapurl, who state that
the sultan abandoned Nizam al-Mulk to Taj al-Mulk, and according to whom the
assassination was committed by the IsmaTlis through the instigation of Taj
al-Mulk.81
The most comprehensive account of all the intricate
factors that brought this incident to a head is provided by Nlshapurl:
Nizam al-Mulk was extremely powerful and
possessed great authority and dominion. Tarkan Khatun, the daughter of Tamghaj
Khan of Samarqand, was the sultan’s wife, having the utmost beauty, elegance,
high lineage, and inherited grandeur. She was domineering without limit, and
she had a vizier from the regions of Fars named Taj al-Mulk Abu’l-Ghana’im who
understood both the surface and the inner nature of things and was known for
his competence, learning, and magnanimity. He was also the keeper of the
Sultan’s Wardrobe. Tarkan wanted to advance him over Nizam al-Mulk, and she
insisted that the Sultan give him the vizierate. She continually defamed Nizam
al-Mulk in private and recounted his offences, until, finally, she caused the
Sultan to change his attitude toward him. The cause of this enmity was that
Tarkan Khatun had a son named Mahmud. She wanted the Sultan to make him crown
prince, and he was very small and a child. Barkyaruq was from Zubaydah Khatun,
the daughter of Amir Yaqutl, sister of Malik Isma’il, and the eldest of the
children of the Sultan. Nizam al-Mulk inclined toward him, since he saw the
mark of kingship and the aura of rulership in his face, and he encouraged the
Sultan to make him crown prince and bestow the reins of the kingdom on him. And
the Sultan was more agreeable to making Barkyaruq his deputy. In sum, when they
had filled the ear of the Sultan with the offences of Nizam al-Mulk, one day
the Sultan gave a message to him, saying "Evidently it appears that you
share in my rule, for you give governorates and fiefs to your sons, and,
whatever you wish to control in the realm, you take without consulting me. Do
you want me to order that they take the pen-box from in front of you and remove
the turban from your head?" Nizam al-Mulk answered, "My pen-box and
your crown are bound together and are twins, but the command belongs to the
latter." To the satisfaction of Tarkan, the tellers of tales added
embellishments to that. The rage and anger of the Sultan increased as a result
of this statement. He gave him into the hands of Taj al-Mulk. He had contacts
and acquaintance with the deviationists in secret, and the Sultan knew nothing
about this. It happened about that time that they set out from Isfahan for
Baghdad. When they reached Nihawand, the accursed deviationists stabbed Nizam
al-Mulk, also at the instigation of Taj al-Mulk.82
It appears that Nizam al-Mulk had been well aware of
these machinations and may even have had some premonition of where they were
leading. As he writes in these eerily prescient words of the Siyasat-namah:
There are
certain persons who on this very day hold privileged positions in this empire They try to persuade The
Master of the World to overthrow the
house of the Abbasids, and if I were to lift the lid from the top of that
pot—oh! the disgraceful things that would be revealed! But—worse than that—as a
result of their representations The Master of the World has become weary of his
humble servant, and is not prepared to take any action in the matter, because
of the economies which these people recommend, thereby making The Master of the
World greedy for money. They make out that I am interested in my private
advantage and so my humble advice finds no acceptance. One day The Master will
realize their iniquity and treachery and criminal deeds—when I have
disappeared.83
The theory that Nizam al-Mulk was disposed of in order
to make way for Malikshah’s assault on the Abbasid caliph is supported by the
fact that the sultan wasted no time in carrying out his ambitions. When he
arrived in Baghdad just shortly after the death of the Nizam al-Mulk, he asked
the caliph to remove his designation from his son Mustazhir and designate his
son Jafar as the crown prince (wall al-ahd).8t As Jafar's
mother was Malikshah's daughter, this was a clear attempt to join the sultanate
and the caliphate in one bloodline. But as Malikshah died within forty days of
Nizam al-Mulk, Jafar's ascension to the caliphate was not to be. In the absence
of both Nizam al-Mulk and Malikshah, Saljuq power waned and the 'Abbasid
caliphate was able to regain some of its political prestige.
This short analysis of Saljuq intrigue demonstrates that
Ahmad al-Ghazali's position at the Tajiyyah and Nizamiyyah madrasahs may have
had political implications. If he was appointed before the death of Taj
al-Mulk, it was perhaps as a foil to his brother's appointment at the
Nizamiyyah, but if he was appointed after the death of Taj al- Mulk, it may
have been as an effort to re-incorporate this madrasah into the central power
structure. His move to the Nizamiyyah madrasah in 488/1095 implies that he was
aligned with his brother, as the events described above occurred two years
prior. Some have interpreted Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's flight from the Nizamiyyah
as one of political expediency, fearing that he may have been the target of
another assassination.85 But this theory is predicated on the belief
that the Isma'ills were solely responsible for the death of the vizier, and Abu
Hamid, like the vizier, had indeed been their staunch opponent, taking them to
task in works such as Fada’ih al-batiniyyah wa-fada}il al-mustazhiriyyah
(The Disgraces of the Esoterists and the Merits of the Exoterists) and Hamaqah
ahl al-ibahah (The Folly of the Libertines). But in light of the facts
detailed above, it seems that if indeed there were any external political
motivations, one could speculate that as a result of the conduct of Malikshah,
Tarkan Khatun, and Taj al-Mulk, and the subsequent deterioration of the Saljuq
state, Abu Hamid had come to see the true nature of his position as a servant
of the empire and was alienated by the politics of his day. This in turn may
have brought on a profound spiritual dilemma as he came to realize that in his
"quest for knowledge" he had come to serve a coercive state
institution, and this then turned him to a life of asceticism and contemplation.
As Kenneth Garden states,
Al-Ghazali's famous spiritual crisis of
488/1095 had a very worldly context. It must be understood at least partially
as a response to the political events of his age, both because he felt morally
compromised by his political involvement . . . and because he despaired of the
role of the regime in establishing a stable and just worldly order.86
Thus, while the political situation most likely
influenced his decision, that his motivations were primarily political is
highly unlikely, for given his reputation, he could easily have gone elsewhere
to continue his teaching career. It is, however, impossible to determine his
exact motivations and Ahmad's role, other than that of replacing him for a
short time at the Nizamiyyah.
The duration of Ahmad's tenure in Abu Hamid's position
at the Nizamiyyah is a matter of some debate. Nasrollah Pourjavady believes he
was there for about six months, until Abu Abd Allah at-Tabari (d. 495/1102)
came to fill the position in 489/1096,87 while Ahmad Mujahid
maintains that he held this position for ten years.88 The issue is
further complicated by the fact that as-Subki writes that at-Tabari was already
in Baghdad teaching at the Nizamiyyah madrasah when Abu Hamid al-Ghazali felt
compelled to leave his position.89
However long the duration of Ahmad's tenure at the
Nizamiyyah and Tajiyyah madrasahs may have been, his career in the religious
sciences was neither as illustrious nor as extensive as that of his brother.
For Ahmad, the sciences of law and theology, though necessary, take a backseat
to the sciences of the spirit (Ar. ruh; Per. jan), to which he
devoted his life. In his view, exoteric knowledge (im) is important but
pertains only to the heart and does not penetrate to the spirit, the
cultivation of which is the purpose of all learning. It is only recognition (marifah)
that pertains to the spirit. In this vein, Shaykh Ahmad states in one of his
sessions, "Fleeting thoughts pertain to the soul and have no path to the
heart; knowledge pertains to the heart and has no path to the spirit; and
recognition is in the spirit."90 As will be detailed in
Chapters 3 and 5, such sayings imply a psychology wherein the soul designates
the baser human elements that are overcome by forgetfulness and dispersion. The
heart refers to a subtler faculty that fluctuates between the soul and the
spirit. And the spirit refers to that part of the human being that inclines
fully to God. As Sam'anl puts it, "The spirit is luminous and heavenly,
the soul terrestrial and dark, while the heart fluctuates and is bewildered.
The attribute of the spirit is all conformity [to God]. The attribute of the
soul is all opposition [to God]. And the attribute of the heart is fluctuating
in the midst."91 Seen in this light, Ahmad viewed the knowledge
obtained through madrasah studies as a potential support that could pull the
heart away from the fleeting thoughts of the soul and orient it toward the
spirit. Nonetheless, the knowledge obtained by such learning ultimately fell
short of the spirit. As all of Ahmad's extant writings are dedicated to the
sciences of recognition (‘irfan), rather than knowledge (‘ilm),
this time at the Tajiyyah and Nizamiyyah madrasahs should not be regarded as
the defining feature of his life. His spiritual instruction and itinerant
preaching were the means by which he advanced the teachings of recognition. It
is thus through his function as a Sufi teacher and as a preacher that his fame
and influence spread.
It is difficult to trace the steps of Ahmad al-Ghazali
between the years 489/1096 and his brother's death in 505/1111. It appears that
at some point after fulfilling his duties at the Nizamiyyah, he escorted Abu
Hamid's family to Nishapur and then to Tus, where they were reunited with Abu
Hamid several years later. One manuscript of Lubb al-ihya}
states that this work was written by Ahmad, but that the manner of summarizing
the work was dictated by Abu Hamid.92 If this report is accurate,
the two brothers spent at least some time together in either Tus or Nishapur
after Abu Hamid's years of travel and devotion. It is clear that they were in
close contact, for Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's al-Madnun bihi ‘ala ghayr ahlihi
(That Which is Withheld from Those Who are Unqualified) is devoted and
addressed to Ahmad.
According to as-Subki, Ahmad al-Ghazali was with his
brother in Tus on 12 Jumada al-akhirah, 505/16 December, 1111, when the latter
passed away. The only account of Abu Hamid's last moment is that related by his
younger brother:
When it was Monday morning, my brother
Abu Hamid performed his ablution, prayed, and said, "Give me my
shroud." He took it, kissed it, and placed it over his eyes and said,
"Obediently, I enter into the kingdom." Then he stretched out his
feet, faced the qiblah, and died before sunrise.93
After his brother's death, Ahmad continued his itinerant
preaching, traveling to Baghdad and many of the major cities of Persia, such as
Isfahan, Nishapur, Maragheh, Tabriz, Qazwin, and Hamadan. This of course means
that he paid short visits to many of the smaller villages between these major
centers. There are, however, only a few accounts of where he may have been at
particular times. The first indication of al-Ghazali's whereabouts is provided
by Ibn al-Jawzi, who, as noted above, cites Muhammad b. Tahir al-Maqdisi's
polemic against al-Ghazali.94 As al-Maqdisi died in 507/1113 and
relates several events that transpired in Hamadan, it is clear that Ahmad
al-Ghazali spent some time in Hamadan before the year 507/1113. The second
indication is provided by one of the manuscripts of the Sawanih, which
states that Ahmad wrote this treatise in the towns of Maragheh and Tabriz, both
of which are located in the northwest of present-day Iran, in the year
508/1114.95
The next indication comes from 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani,
who writes in Zubdat al-haqa’iq that during one of Ahmad al-Ghazali's
visits to Hamadan, located almost halfway between Baghdad and present-day
Tehran, he became 'Ayn al-Qudat's shaykh and helped him to advance on the Sufi
path.96 As 'Ayn al-Qudat, born in 492/1099, wrote this book at
twenty-four years of age, recounting a spiritual awakening that had begun three
years earlier, we can surmise that this meeting occurred sometime between the
years 513/1119 and 516/1122.97 There were several other meetings
between them in Hamadan and Qazwin, but the dates are not given by either
Hamadani or al-Ghazali.
Another account of Ahmad's whereabouts is related by Ibn
al-Jawzi in al-Muntazam, wherein, during a celebration at the court of
the Saljuq sultan Mahmud b. Muhammad b. Malikshah, the sultan gave Ahmad
al-Ghazali 1,000 dinars, whereupon al-Ghazali took the horse of the vizier,
which was richly mounted with a saddle of gold. When informed of this, the
sultan ordered that he not be pursued.98 As Mahmud ruled from
511/1117-18 until 525/1131, for this event to have occurred, it must have taken
place between 511/1117 and Ahmad's death in either 517/1123 or 520/1126. It may
have occurred in 515/1121, when al-Ghazali reportedly dwelt at the sultan's
court in Baghdad99 and preached at the funeral proceedings of Tarkan
Khatun. But given the favor he seems to have found with Tarkan Khatun, it is
likely that he visited the court on more than one occasion.
Two other cities in which Ahmad al-Ghazali is reported
to have appeared are Isfahan, located 340 kilometers south of present-day
Tehran, and Irbil, 670 kilometers west of Tehran, but we cannot even conjecture
as to when he may have been in either of these places. According to a brief
note in Shaykh Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi's ‘Awarif al-ma‘arif, his
shaykh and uncle, Abu'n-Najib as-Suhrawardi, was in Isfahan with his shaykh,
Ahmad al-Ghazali, serving as his rep- resentative.100 As for
al-Ghazali's presence in Irbil, in his Ta’rikh Irbil (History of Irbil)
the historian Ibn al-Mustawfi al-Irbili (d. 637/1239) reports that Shaykh
Abu’l-Yaman Sabih told of Ahmad al-Ghazali preaching to the people in the ribat
of Irbil.101
While exact dates cannot be obtained, Ahmad al-Ghazali
traveled extensively, preaching in many towns and villages and calling people
to remember and worship their Lord. Despite his itinerant lifestyle, it appears
that Ahmad al-Ghazali did not travel very widely. There is no account of his
having made the pilgrimage to Mecca, and nothing tells of his venturing any
further than Baghdad to the south and west, nor further than Tabriz to the
north, and no further than his native region of Khurasan in the east.
The last years of Ahmad’s life were spent in the city of
Qazwin, located about 175 kilometers northwest of present-day Tehran, then a
stronghold of the IsmaTli sect. Exactly when he settled here is unknown. He may
have come to Qazwin just after his brother’s death in 505/1111 and spent most
of his time providing instruction and seeking seclusion in a Sufi khanqah,
occasionally traveling to preach in other cities.102 Alternatively,
he may have settled here toward the last days of his life, after an itinerant
life, moving from one Sufi khanqah to another, preaching in one town and
then the next.
If one takes the account in Tabsirat al-mubtadi1
wa'tadhkirat al-muntahi literally, it appears that al-Ghazali spent these
last years living in relative opulence, possessing a stable with many horses.
But, as observed in Chapter 1, this account appears to be more an ideological
representation than a historical transmission. Nonetheless, it is a
possibility: supporting influential Sufis had long been a policy of the Saljuq
rulers, and al-Ghazali was said to have several high-ranking disciples. As
noted in Chapter 1, Zakariyya b. Muhammad al-Qazwini counts Malikshah among
Shaykh Ahmad’s disciples.103 Furthermore, Mughith ad-Din al-Mahmud
(511-25/1118-31), who ruled Iraq and western Persia, and his brother Ahmad
Sanjar (513-52/1119-57), who ruled Khurasan and northern Persia, are both
recorded as disciples of Ahmad al-Ghazali. Given that his more famous brother
had continued interactions with the Saljuq rulers even when he had ostensibly
tried to avoid them,104 it is not unreasonable to think that Ahmad
al-Ghazali also rubbed elbows with them on occasion. Nonetheless, the exact
nature of this relationship will never be fully known.105
Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali most likely died in Qazwin in
Rabial-Akhir 517/May 1123 517/1123 since this is the earliest and most detailed
record of his death provided.106 Nonetheless, most biographers list
520/1126 as the year of Ahmad al-Ghazali's death.107 His tomb was at
first located just outside Qazwin. During the Safavid period, Shah Abbas
(995-1038/1587-1629) expressed dissatisfaction with this location. A new tomb
was thus constructed within the city, and several murids (seekers) of a
Sufi order whose silsilah was connected to al-Ghazali transferred the
remains.108 The tomb remains to this day in a small mosque by the
name of the Ahmadi Mosque. It is a humble, well-kept structure, rarely
recognized as a site of pilgrimage. A small courtyard bedecked with grape vines
leads to the tomb in a basement underneath the mosque. The Qur’anic verse Everything
perishes save His face (28:88) adorns the wall of the tomb, followed by an
Arabic inscription from the year 1362/1943:
This is the tomb of the shaykh of
shaykhs and the pole of poles, Majd ad-Din Abu'l-Futuh Ahmad b. Muhammad
at-Tusi al-Ghazali—may his inmost being be hallowed— who died in the year 520.
He wore the mantle of poverty from the hand of Shaykh Abu Bakr an-Nassaj, and
he via Abu'l-Qasim al-Garakani, he via Shaykh Abu Ali al-Katib, from Shaykh Abu
Ali ar-Rudabari, from the head of the orders al-Junayd al-Baghdadi, from Sari
as-Saqati, from Maruf al-Karkhi, from the sultan of the friends of God Ali b.
Musa ar-Rida’—peace be upon him—and nine of the twenty-four known silsilahs
wear the mantle at the hand of the one whose tomb this is.109
Part II
Practice and Teachings
Chapter 3
Ahmad al-Ghazali's
Spiritual Practice
As seen in Chapter 2, Ahmad al-Ghazali's central focus
was the sciences pertaining to recognition (irfan) and following the
path by which they are realized, what many refer to as Sufism. As seen in
Chapter 1, as Sufism became more institutionalized, Ahmad al-Ghazali's
connection to it became more stated in the hagiographical tradition. In order
to separate the real Ahmad from many of these ideological representations, it
is best to study his particular spiritual discipline without the complications
of identifying him with terms such as Sufism and mysticism that
have come to assume very different meanings for people of varying ideologies.
This chapter will examine Ahmad al-Ghazali's view of the prescriptions and
proscriptions of the Shariah and identify the elements of his spiritual
practice. Each practice will first be examined in light of its precedents
within the Quran and the hadith. Then Shaykh al-Ghazali's own views will
be presented. As the precedents for the practices of seclusion (khalwah)
and audition (sama) in the foundational sources of Islam are not as
strong as other practices, they will be examined in relation to other authors
of the Sufi tradition. It appears that supererogatory practices were an
integral part of Ahmad al-Ghazali's life from his early years in Tus until his
death. Although his perception of spiritual discipline and practice may have
changed over time, his authenticated writings do not provide enough information
to discern such developments.
As noted by many of Ahmad al-Ghazali's biographers, both
past and present, he is chiefly regarded as a Sufi. But what he may have
understood by this term, what various biographers have understood by this term,
and what many modern readers understand by this term varies to such an extent
as to render the term problematic. Scholars such as Annemarie Schimmel,
Margaret Smith, R.A. Nicholson, and A.J. Arberry have identified Sufism as
"the mystical dimension of Islam" or as "Islamic
mysticism," and many have followed in their footsteps. But the words
"mystical" and "mysticism" are part of the very problem. As
Leigh Eric Schmidt observes, "There is hardly a more beleaguered category
than ‘mysticism’ in the current academic study of religion."1
Compounding the problem is the fact that other pietistic movements of the early
middle Islamic period, such as the Karramiyyah, the Malamatiyyah, the
Salimiyyah, and the Hakimiyyah were incorporated into the Sufi movement.2
Other individuals and factions in medieval Islam are also deserving of the term
mysticism— as plastic as the moniker may be. The Ikhwan as-Safa’, or
Brethren of Purity, Isma’il! philosophers such as Abu Ya’qub as-Sijistani (d.
361/971) and Hamid ad-Din Kirmani (d. ca. 412/1021), as well as such figures as
Shihab ad-Din Yahya as-Suhrawardi (d. 587/1191) and Afdal ad-Din Kashani (d.
610/1213-14) certainly have mystical tendencies, but they cannot be identified
as part of the Sufi movement. To describe Sufism in a manner that neither
incorporates the problematic cultural assumptions of the word mysticism,
nor excludes other groups who had similar interests, perhaps the best one can
say is that Sufism is a "powerful tradition of Muslim knowledge and practice
bringing proximity to or mediation with God."3 It was the most
widespread pietistic movement of premodern Islam, and one that still exerts
extensive influence in the modern period.
As discussed in Chapter 1, several biographical dictionaries
mention that Ahmad al-Ghazali took to the Sufi path at an early age, and that
he practiced seclusion (khalwah) and isolation (‘uzlah). But
little more about his spiritual training and practice can be gleaned from these
sources. Nonetheless, the outline of a spiritual practice comprised of
adherence to the Shariah, dhikr, remembrance of death, night vigil (tahajjud),
seclusion, and audition (sama’) can be constructed from his writings,
especially the sermons and letters. Such practices were common among several
pietistic movements at his time. Situated in relation to other Sufi writings,
the writings of Ahmad al-Ghazali and about him are most notable for the fact
that there is no mention of asceticism (zuhd) or of supererogatory
fasting (sawm). It is most likely that the practices Ahmad al-Ghazali
discusses are the ones in which he himself was engaged during his time in
Nishapur and perhaps before; for in at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid he
indicates that one cannot be a guide on the spiritual path unless one has
followed it oneself:
The likeness of the wayfarer (salik)
on the path of the Hereafter is like a man who wayfares the path of the desert,
witnessing it and knowing its way stations and its phases, its plains and its
mountains. He knows them inch- by-inch; he knows them and is certain in both
knowledge and experience. Just as it is suitable for this man to be a guide on
the path of the desert, so, too, it is suitable for the wayfarer to be a guide
on the path of the Hereafter.4
Given this assertion, the methods of wayfaring he
prescribes in other writings most likely pertain to the path he himself had
traveled. As is apparent from his letters, he clearly saw himself as an
accomplished wayfarer fit to guide others on this path:
Listen to these words with the ear of
the heart and write them on the tablet of the soul and know me as a sincere
intermediary and a sincere inheritor; for among the people [i.e., the Sufis]
are those who when asked are inspired, granted success, and guided, and
"encountering the people of good supports hearts."5 Their
words are a gift from the unseen, and their advice is free of faults. How can
one prosper who has not seen one who prospers?6
The belief that his are the words of one who is
inspired, guided, and qualified to teach others is also transmitted in the Majalis:
"Whoever comes to me with the ears of the spirit, I shall transmit to him
the secrets of the empyreal realm (asrar al-malakut)."7
Despite this emphasis on the unseen and the empyreal
realm and occasional vituperations against mere legalism in religion, Ahmad
al-Ghazali prescribes diligent observance of the Shariah for one who wishes to
follow the tariqah: "If you believe, then accept the outer holy law
(ash-shar az-zahir al-muqaddas) with all that you are."8
As he advises a disciple in a letter, "Everyone who puts his foot on the
path must make the edicts (fatawa) of the religious law applicable to
him."9 This is in following a principle that he applies to all
aspects of being human: "Giving oneself permission and interpreting for
oneself is one thing, and finding permission from the source is another."10
The Shariah is what gives permission pertaining to one’s outer worldly affairs,
while the tariqah gives permission pertaining to one’s inner spiritual
journey; "for the Shariah and the tariqah are two conditions for
you to perform one cycle of prayer according to what you have been commanded: And
they are not ordered but to worship God, purifying for Him the religion
(Quran 98:6)."11 Thus, although the realities (maani)
perceived by traveling the spiritual path betray the limitations of the
Shariah, on the level of the Shariah itself they do not supplant its
prescriptions or diminishes its proscriptions. Given his training, the fact
that he was qualified to teach at both the Tajiyyah and Nizamiyyah madrasahs,
and that he was counted by Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani as one of only ten people
qualified in both the outward and inward sciences, al-Ghazali likely held a
position similar to that articulated by Abu Nasr as-Sarraj, "The Sufis
agree with the jurists and the traditionists regarding their teachings; they
accept their disciplines (ulum) and do not oppose them as regards their
meanings and methods, since they avoid innovation and following caprice, while
conforming to the established pattern and example of tradition. They are allied
with them in their assent to an affirmation of all aspects of their
disciplines."12
Ahmad al-Ghazali often rails against the inadequacy of a
religion confined to superficial legalisms. He is adamant in maintaining the
need for sincerity that goes beyond the perfunctory performance of prescribed
rituals, citing a famous hadith: "How many fast, yet receive
nothing from fasting but hunger and thirst? How many pray, yet receive nothing
from prayer but exhaustion and trouble?"13 Through his own
words he indicates the vacuity of mere observance:
How many a harvest of obedience which at
the moment of death—We shall advance upon what work they have done and make
it as scattered dust (25:23)—is given to the wind of needlessness. How many
an exalted breast which in the throes of death—And there appeared to them
from God what they had not been reckoning (39:47)—they destroy.14
Although the foundation of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s spiritual
practice and wayfaring is the standard Islamic practice, for him, like many
Sufis before, the law in and of itself is a dead husk. To experience its
vitality the wayfarer must penetrate into the reality (ma‘na) of that
which the law enjoins; for where the jurist enjoins the performance of actions,
the seeker enjoins the purification of hearts. Ahmad illustrates this principle
in the Majalis by transmitting an apocryphal account of an old madman
who was questioned by Imam ash-ShafiI (d. 205/820) and Imam Ahmad b. Hanbal (d.
241/855) as to what a man must do when he has missed the five daily prayers:
The old man said, "This is a heart
with bad character; opposition has clouded it, and the rust of sins has
blackened it. If he enters the furnace of the fires of grief and the burning of
regret, perhaps he will return." Ahmad [b. Hanbal] fell unconscious before
him, amazed by his words. When wisdom falls upon the ears of pure hearts, they
are drawn to it. The jurist says, "Perform the five prayers," and
they say, "Treat the forgetfulness of the heart."15
From this perspective, the outer actions enjoined by the
Shariah and the inner sincerity cultivated by the Sufi path are both essential.
As ‘Abdullah Ansari puts it, "Without the reality (haqiqah) the
Shariah is useless; and without the Shariah, the haqiqah is useless.
Anyone who does not act in accord with both is useless."16
Employing this same dichotomy between Shariah and haqiqah, Maybudi sees
an allusion to this relationship in the Quran, when it states, For each
among you We have appointed a road and a way (5:48):
The road is the Shariah and the way is
the haqiqah. The road is the customs of Shariah, and the way is the road
toward the Real. The road is what Mustafa [i.e., the Prophet Muhammad] brought,
and the way is a lamp that the Real holds next to the heart. The road is
following the Shariah, and the way is gaining access to the light of that lamp.
The road is that message that you heard from the Prophet. The way is that light
that you find in the secret core. The Shariah is for everyone. The haqiqah
is for some.17
For Ahmad al-Ghazali, the obligatory prayer is essential
for following both the Shariah and the Sufi path, not simply because it is
enjoined but because it has a reality that pertains to the inner dimensions of
the human being:
"The first thing for which man is
called to account is prayer."18 "The coolness of my eye is
made in prayer."19 Do you not have a body, a spirit, and a
heart? Likewise for the prayer there is a body, which is the movements and the
action, a heart, which is presence (al-hudur), and a spirit, which is
being absent from remembrance (dhikr) in the witnessing of The
Remembered, and that is "the coolness of the eye."20
From this perspective, the ritual prayer is a mode of
that practice and principle that is most central to Ahmad al-Ghazali's
teachings, the remembrance of God (dhikr Allah). As he says in a sermon,
"Perform remembrance perpetually, for it is the hard cash of the ritual
prayer."21 Like remembrance, prayer has levels and degrees of
participation. In one sense, the goal of the Sufi path could be seen as the
performance of the ritual prayer with complete sincerity (ikhlas). For
according to al-Ghazali, when prayer is performed with sincere intention and a
pure heart, "the cover is lifted and one sees the unseen from the beauty
of the worshipped, then the prayer employs him, he does not perform the
prayer."22 At this level of realization wherein one prays with
full presence of heart, prayer becomes an act that serves not only the
worshipper but serves also to sustain the world: "two light rounds of
prayer in the middle of the night are accepted, sufficing for the people of the
earth."23
Dhikr
Dhikr,
which indicates remembrance of God and the invocation of God, has long been
considered the axis around which all other dimensions of Sufi practice rotate.
As Ibn Ata’illah as-Skandarl (d. 709/1309) writes, "The remembrance of God
is the key to prosperity and the luminary of spirits . . . it is the
fundamental support of the Sufi path and sustenance for the people of
truth."24 This central idea follows on the injunction to
remember God or remember or invoke the name of God that is found throughout the
Quran. In some verses it is joined to specific acts, as when one is told to
invoke the name of God over sacrificial animals (e.g., 5:4, 6:118-119), or when
one is told to "remember God" upon hearing the Quran recited
(7:204-205). But it more often appears as a general injunction, as in 73:8: So
remember the Name of thy Lord and devote thyself to Him with complete devotion;
76:25: And remember the Name of thy Lord morning and evening (cf.
3:41); and 33:41: Remember God with frequent remembrance. From a Quranic
perspective, dhikr engenders happiness in this life and the next—and
remember God much, that haply you may prosper (62:10)—and is that through
which human beings can find peace: Truly God leads astray whomsoever He will and guides to Himself whosoever turns in
repentance— those who believe and whose hearts are at peace in the remembrance
of God. Are not hearts at peace in the remembrance of God? (13:27-28). In contrast, the hearts of disbelievers are said to be hardened
to the remembrance of God (39:22).
In accord with this central Quranic message, Ahmad
al-Ghazali, like most adherents of Sufi Islam before and after him, saw
remembrance as the axis of the spiritual life. In one of his sessions he goes
so far as to say, "There is no occupation but the remembrance of God. It
is the sword of God encircling the hearts of the prophets and saints, cutting
their hearts off from what He does not love to be joined to them."25
And in a letter he tells a disciple that dhikr is a necessary part of
being human: "Just as there is something in man that lives by bread and
water, so, too, there is something in man that lives by the remembrance of
God."26 He thus enjoins his followers to remember God at all
times, since it is the heart of prayer. From this perspective, dhikr
entails a degree of belief or sincerity that is beyond the injunctions followed
by most believers. Long before al-Ghazali, dhikr had become a complex
term through which the whole of the Sufi path was described. As al-Kalabadhi
writes, "Dhikr is divided into several kinds: The first is the
remembrance of the heart, which is that the Remembered not be forgotten, but
remembered. The second is remembering the attributes of the Remembered and the
third is witnessing the Remembered, such that one is annihilated from
remembrance because the attributes of the Remembered annihilate you from your
attributes and you are annihilated from remembrance."27
Dhikr and spiritual love (fishq)
can be understood as the two central themes of al-Ghazali's teachings. The
whole of the Sawanih can be read as a commentary on the mysteries of
spiritual love and divine love and the whole of at-Tajrid fi kalimat
at-tawhid can be read as a guide to the levels of dhikr. Dhikr
is also discussed extensively in the Majalis. It is of such importance
for al-Ghazali that all other dimensions of his spiritual practice can be seen
as supports for dhikr or as extensions of it, as demonstrated in his
discussion of ritual prayer. For those who can be identified as adherents to
the school of love, love and the remembrance are intimately intertwined. In
this respect, Maybudi speaks of drinking "the wine of love from the cup of
dhikr."28
In general discussions regarding the practice of dhikr,
Ahmad al-Ghazali implores one to go beyond the remembrance and the rememberer (dhakir)
to the Remembered (al-madhkur). In one of his sessions, he responds to a
question regarding how one remembers, "Say ‘Allah' until He says ‘My
servant.' Oh Muslims! We do not cease
saying ‘Allah’ until we forget saying ‘Allah,’ for this
is His word, And remember thy Lord when thou dost forget (18:25). That
is, when you forget the name remember the Named." The questioner then
said, "But I have forgotten remembrance." To which Ahmad responded,
"It is incumbent upon you to forget the rememberer (dhakir), for
the remembrance of the rememberer is mixed with his remembrance of the Remembered
(al-madhkur)." To which the man responded, "I have forgotten
the remembrance and the rememberer." Shaykh Ahmad replied:
The entire point remains, it remains for
you to forget that you are one who forgets. For your knowledge of forgetting is
the joy of the expression of unity (kalam at-tawhid). So when one hears
one is silent, for his silence is the forgetting of forgetting. If one says,
"I forgot," that is the remembrance of forgetting. In faith there is
a taste that does not cease to say "Allah" until the event (al-khuttah)
is spread before him, and when the event is spread, the locus of remembrance
envelops him and the tear is expanded instantly.29
Here, the event refers to the
realities of the grave and the Day of Judgment and other matters pertaining to
the Hereafter that are described in the Quran and the Hadith. Most Muslims
understand the punishments and blessings described in such accounts as being
experienced after corporeal death. But for many Sufis they are realities that
lie within the human being and are realized as one travels the path toward God.
In describing this aspect of the path, Ayn al-Qudat writes, "The first
thing that becomes known to the wayfarer concerning the world of the Hereafter
is the states of the grave
These
are all in the interior of man, since they arise from
him. No doubt, they are connected to him."30
The stage of forgetting everything and remembering only
the Remembered can be understood as the highest level of remembrance, which in
the Tajrid corresponds to "the provision of the secret core"
of the spiritual wayfarer. As Najm ad-Din Kubra (d. 618/1221), a spiritual
descendant of Ahmad al-Ghazali, writes in speaking of the stages of remembrance
as degrees of immersion (istighraq), "The third immersion is the
descending of remembrance into one’s secret core. This is the disappearance of
the rememberer from the remembrance in the Remembered."31 But
whereas al-Ghazali emphasizes forgetting everything because it is nothing next
to the Remembered, Kubra emphasizes the immersion of what is less real in what
is the Real Itself.
The stages of the path whereby one reaches this degree
of dhikr are alluded to in al-Ghazali's letters and sessions, but more
extensive details are provided in the Tajrid. In one of his sessions,
al-Ghazali states that when Abu'l-Husayn an-Nurl was asked, "How does one
arrive at recognition (‘irfan), he answered, "It is seven oceans of
fire and light. When you cross it ‘a fish swallows you'; it swallows the first
and the last."32 In another session, al-Ghazali speaks of the
stages of creation as seven, basing this on the Quranic testimony that God
created seven heavens: Have you not considered how God created the seven
heavens one upon another, and made the moon a light therein and made the sun a
lamp? (Quran 75:15-16; cf. e.g. 2:29, 41:12, 65:12, 67:3, 71:15). The
Shaykh says,
Encounter the stages of your created nature as seven
skies.
The moon of the stages of your created
nature is your heart and its sun is your spirit. The first thing to come to the
Muslim in dhikr is a light appearing on the horizon of his heart, that
is the crescent moon. Where is its night? He does not cease to increase in dhikr
and his heart inclines to the encounter (al-muwajahah) with His saying, "I
have turned my face" (6:79).33 Then when he becomes the son
of fourteen [stages], he says, "My heart has seen my Lord." So he
becomes a witnesser and one witnessed."
The number seven also defines al-Ghazali's vision of the
spiritual path in the Tajrid, where he divides the types of being into
praiseworthy and blameworthy. The praiseworthy being of man corresponds to
bounty (fadl) and the blameworthy being corresponds to justice (‘adl).
These correspond to the dimensions of the human being that manifest
different aspects of God's Attributes. Thus the praiseworthy dimension of the
human being manifests the names pertaining to God's Bounty or Mercy, while the
blameworthy dimension of the human being manifests God's Justice or Wrath. The
process of spiritual purification is thus one wherein the Divine Attributes of
Bounty and Mercy come to predominate over the Attributes of Justice and Wrath
in accordance with the hadith qudsi:"Verily My Mercy takes
precedence over My Wrath."34 Both the dimension of bounty and
the dimension of justice can be considered to correspond to different
categories of believers in accord with which attributes they may manifest more
fully. According to Shaykh Ahmad, what separates them is that the people of
bounty take the form and meaning of "No god but God," while the people
of justice take the expression of "No god but God" "in its form
without its meaning. They adorn their outward natures with saying and their
inward natures with disbelief, and their hearts are blackened, darkened."35
To be a person of bounty is for Ahmad al-Ghazali the beginning of the Sufi
path. It requires that one seek intimacy with none but God, relying only on
Him. At this level, dhikr dwells in "the kingdom of the
spirit." Al-Ghazali refers to wayfarers at this level as the lovers (al-ashiqun)
beyond whom are the elect of the elect who are the unveilers (kashifun)
for whom dhikr dwells in the secret core.36
The first two-thirds of at-Tajrid focus on making
sharp distinctions between the people of justice and the people of bounty. But
in the last third of the text, al-Ghazali embarks on a technical explanation of
the process by which the wayfarer employs different formulas of dhikr as
he travels the path. His presentation is based on a delineation of the
oppositions between bounty and justice within the human being. Bounty comprises
eight parts: sense perception, understanding, intellect, outer heart, heart,
spirit, secret core, and aspiration, while justice comprises seven parts: sense
perception, preoccupation, caprice, murkiness of soul, the soul, humanness, and
nature. Justice represents the anticipated fire, and bounty represents the
light of tawhid. The seven attributes of justice stand opposite the
attributes of bounty, but aspiration has no counterpart among the attributes of
justice, implying that it is at a stage beyond duality.
As one progresses on the path, the lights of bounty rise
over the attributes pertaining to justice and obliterate them. In testifying to
unity (tawhid), the light of tawhid rises over the part
pertaining to bounty, then through the part pertaining to bounty casts a light
on the part pertaining to justice that obliterates its darkness and transforms
it until it ceases to be a place of darkness and fire. The attributes of bounty
appear to correspond to the seven oceans of light to which an-Nurl is said to
have referred in the Majalis, with the attributes of justice referring
to the seven oceans of fire. The himmah, or aspiration, that lies beyond
the duality of these oppositions would then correspond to the fish that swallows
all who have ventured to that level, meaning that human aspiration has been
consumed by Divine aspiration, such that one is in complete submission to God’s
will.
It is from the light of this himmah that light
shines first on the secret core and then on the following attributes of bounty.
As it passes from one attribute to the next it wipes out the darkness of the
corresponding attribute of justice. These attributes of justice are then like
the first part of the shahadah, "No god," the negation that
only finds its purpose in the second part of the shahadah, "but
God," the affirmation. Thus the light of affirmation obliterates the
darkness of negation. As the light of the shahadah comes to prevail, it
shines through the seven attributes pertaining to bounty upon the seven
attributes pertaining to justice,37 then
When the darkness of the negation
vanishes by the light of affirmation, it illuminates the world of your being
pertaining to justice with that light and its parts pertaining to justice are
transformed into parts pertaining to bounty. Thus the blameworthy sense
perception becomes a praiseworthy sense perception, caprice becomes intellect,
murkiness of soul becomes an outer heart, humanness becomes spirit, nature
becomes a secret core, and satan becomes a king. This is alluded to in the
saying of the Prophet "My satan has submitted."38
The process whereby the attributes of bounty come to
predominate over those of justice comprises three way stations that correspond
to three worlds. In his presentation of these way stations, al-Ghazali employs
a standard Sufi division of the inner regions of the human being into three
fundamental levels—heart (qalb), spirit (ruh), and secret core (sirr)—with
the heart representing the outermost or lowest level and the secret core
representing the most interior or highest level of the human being. As the
Shaykh writes,
The heart, the spirit, and the secret
core are analogous to a pearl in a shell that is within a box, or a bird in a
cage that is within a house. The box and the house are analogous to the heart,
the cage and the shell are analogous to the spirit, and the bird and the pearl
are analogous to the secret core. Whenever you do not reach the house, you do
not reach the cage, and whenever you do not reach the cage, you will not reach
Me. Likewise, whenever you do not reach the heart, you do not reach the spirit,
and whenever you do not reach the spirit, you do not reach the secret core.39
In other words, "there is no reaching the world of
spirits except after traversing the world of hearts, and there is no reaching
the world of secret cores except after traversing the world of spirits."40
This, however, is only an approximation to help one understand the process of
traveling the path. In reality, "the world of spirits is bigger than the
world of hearts and the world of secret cores is bigger than the world of
spirits."41 The world of secret cores is then the province of
the recognizers, the world of spirits is the province of the lovers, and the
world of hearts is the province of the penitent. Ahmad al-Ghazali also sees
levels below these three: the soul is the province of the defiers, humanness is
the province of the disbelievers, and base nature is the province of the
hypocrites. The lowest realms are "the abysses and the lowest levels of
the world of justice."42 Those who are in these lowest realms,
those of nature and humanness, "their eyes are blinded from desiring the
highest, their desire is attached to the lowest, and their aspirations cling to
the shares of this world, which is the still corpse in the animals’
stable."43 Those at the beginning of the spiritual path strive
to separate themselves from these worlds through spiritual exercises, but
something of these worlds remains so long as their religious outlook remains
defined by hope for Paradise and fear of Hell. Though they may aspire to that
which is higher, it distracts them from that which is Highest.44
Rather than seeking reward, they must worship desiring the Face of God
(6:52). But as this text is written for those who already incline to the
spiritual path, its focus is on the process of interiorizing the dhikr
until, when one is in the realm of the secret core, "[He] does not hear
except from the unseen and does not see except from the unseen."45
So long as the wayfarer’s attributes of justice have not
submitted, he remains in the first way station, the world of annihilation (alam
al-fana}), since it is here that his blameworthy attributes are
erased. The one at this level must practice the invocation of the shahadah,
"No god but God," since it negates the darkness of justice with the
light of bounty. He is still in the early stages of wayfaring, in which the
soul (nafs) and its blameworthy attributes predominate. He is therefore
in need of that which will negate and erase such attributes, and this is the
negation (nafy) of the shahadah, "No god." The
affirmation (ithbat) of the shahadah, "but God," is
then the provision of hearts (rizq al-qulub), and when the shahadah's
fullness is realized, it is the unveiler of hearts (kashif al-qulub).
When all of the attributes of justice have been erased
or illuminated, the wayfarer moves to the second way station, the world of
attraction (alam al-jadhabiyyah), where he is no longer attracted to the
darkness of the attributes of justice, but only to the Divine Kingdom. At this
stage, blameworthy attributes have subsided, and the praiseworthy attributes
predominate. One is therefore able to use the name Allah in his dhikr,
since it strengthens the praiseworthy attributes and increases one in the
affirmation of God’s incomparability (tanzih)d6 In the name Allah
there lies the provision of spirits (rizq al-arwah), and when its
fullness is realized, it is the unveiler of spirits (kashif al-arwah).
The third way station is the world of possession (‘alam
al-qabd), wherein one persists in saying, “Huwa Huwa” ("He is
He" or "Him, Him"). Here the turbidity of one’s blameworthy
attributes has vanished completely, the lights of the praiseworthy attributes
have risen, and one is connected to the Real with no intermediary.47
In this way station, "You become non-existent in relation to yourself and
existent in relation to Him, annihilated in relation to yourself and subsisting
in relation to Him. So make your remembrance Huwa, Huwa, for the
existent is Huwa and the subsisting is Huwa.”48 Huwa
is then the provision of the secret cores (rizq al-asrar), and when its
fullness is realized it is the unveiler of secret cores (kashif al-asrar).
In the world of possession, the wayfarer is fully possessed by the Real such
that he has complete self-disposal (tasarruf) through God, with no
intermediary. This is the point in which the Divine will is said to have
swallowed human aspiration (himmah).
The son of fourteen to which al-Ghazali refers in the Majalis
is the son of the fourteen stages of justice and bounty who has passed beyond
them into the self-disposal of the world of Divine possession.49 He
has traveled through the way stations of the three worlds, and his invocation
has reached the point where the invoker and the invocation have been completely
absorbed in the Invoked. As Maybudi puts it in his commentary on Quran 2:121,
The Pir of the Path said, "The
servant reaches a place in remembrance where the tongue reaches the heart, the
heart reaches the spirit, the spirit reaches the secret core, and the secret
core reaches the Light. The heart says to the tongue, "Silence!” The
spirit says to the heart, "Silence!” The secret core says to the spirit,
"Silence!” God says to the wayfarer, "My servant, for some time you
have been speaking. Now I will speak, and you will listen.”50
For many Muslims, the remembrance of God is closely tied
to remembering death, for whoever remembers his Lord knows that he will meet
Him when he dies and is at all times on guard to die in a state of reverence
for God, in taqwa. The remembrance of death has, therefore, always been
an intrinsic dimension of Muslim religious life. As T.J. Winter observes,
"From the first days of the Muslim experience the remembrance of death and
the chastening facts of eschatology provided a characteristic underpinning to
the devotional life."51 Indeed, reminders of death permeate the
entire Quran: No soul knows in what land it shall die (31:34); Every
soul tastes death (3:185, 21:35, 29:57); Say, “Fleeing will not benefit
you if you flee from death or killing” (33:17). The verb "to
die," mata/yamutu, and its derivatives occur
no less than 173 times in the Quran and is often combined with the mention of
the reckoning that is to come: Say, “The death from which you shrink will
surely meet you, and afterward you will be returned unto the Knower of the
invisible and the visible, and He will tell what you were doing"
(42:8).
Both the revelation and the teachings of its Messenger urge
Muslims to work not for this life, but for the Hereafter: Say, “The goods of
the world are few and the hereafter is better for those who fear [God]”
(4:77); Whosoever desires the harvest of the Hereafter, We shall give him
increase in his tillage; and who desires the tillage of this world, We shall
give him of it, but in the world to come he will have no share” (42:20). As
if commenting on such Quranic verses, the Prophet taught his followers,
"Whosoever abhors meeting with God, God abhors meeting with him."52
And he counted the remembrance of death as the mark of a person’s intelligence:
"The intelligent person is one who judges himself and acts for what
follows death."53
Following upon such teachings, Sufis have long seen the
remembrance of death as a central component of spiritual wayfaring—so much so
that a motto of those who advocate a Sufi way has long been "Die before
you die."54 Ahmad al-Ghazali is thus in good company when in a
sermon he enjoins his audience:
Grab the hair upon your face, beat your
head on the wall and say, "Death, death!" You will wake up. When your
soul assents to death say, "Death is a path, where is the increase?"
. . . Whoever dies in remembrance of God is taken up as one who is pious and
resurrected as one well-sated.55
Like his brother Abu Hamid, the fortieth and longest
book of whose Ihya is entitled "The Remembrance of Death and the
Afterlife,"56 Ahmad al-Ghazali saw the remembrance of death as
a necessary condition of spiritual wayfaring. This is most evident in his letters
and sessions. Like the Quran itself, his sermons sometimes read as a constant
reminder of death and the judgment to follow. In the very first session he
tells his audience, "You have wasted many years and you make excuses for
the rest and perhaps this is your last day and your last night."57
Remembrance of death is of the utmost importance because the spiritual path is
long and the hour is not known to any:
Say to your soul, "You have two
affairs before you. If you are to be saved from this steep path, then the
efforts of the remainder of your life are little in relation to this grave
matter (khatr). If you are not saved, then the misery of endlessness (abad)
will have the efforts of ten days joined to it." This is the wisdom of one
who is conscious of it.58
The relentlessness with which Ahmad al-Ghazali
continually preaches the remembrance of death is seen in his response to a
member of the audience who pleads, "Be gentle with us." To this he
responds, "O depraved ones, you are sleeping and the time is passing by
you to your recompense and your death. How can I be gentle with you when the
path is long?"59 In another instance, when asked about the
truth of astrologers’ predictions, he replies:
Whether the attainment of astrological
conjunctions (qiranat) is true or not, whether the astrologers lie or
tell the truth— death, there is no doubt about it, and no one escapes from it.
The attainment of them [the conjunctions] is death. If you are heedless of
death, your conjunction occurs and if you are heedless of God, your conjunction
occurs, a conjunction with Satan: And he who is blind to the remembrance of
the Merciful, We appoint for him a Satan, so he is a companion (qarin) unto him
(43:37).60
The manner in which Shaykh Ahmad addresses death
throughout the sessions is evident in more compact form in the ‘Ayniyyah, throughout
the first half of which he enjoins Ayn al-Qudat to remember death: "Being
aware of the attack of death by night is a condition and remembering the grave
is part of the Shariah." As in the Majalis, he then weaves together
several Quranic verses to remind his disciple of the reckoning that death must
entail:
Before a day comes (2:254, 14:31, 31:43, 42:47) on which they say, “Oh that we had
followed God and followed a messenger” (33:44). Before a day comes
wherein it does not profit to say, "I wish I had observed the Command of
God and the messenger."61 Before the coming of the angel of
death and there is the request, "If only you would delay me until a
near moment” (63:10), and His answer, "Now! Yet you have disobeyed
and were among the corrupt” (10:91); and the threat, "But did you
not swear before that there would be no abandoning?” (14:44); and the call,
"A barrier between them and what they desire” (34:54).62
He then turns from the Quran to verses of poetry,
sayings attributed to Ali b. Abi Talib, and Arabic proverbs to drive the point
home:
How many
a mountain have men exalted in eminence, Then they pass, and the mountain
remains a mountain?
"Increase the remembrance of the
Destroyer of pleasures" is a command,63 and "Death
suffices as an answer" is a cure.64 "Today in the round,
tomorrow in the ground."
What will you say when you are called
and do not answer? When you are asked and are in the throes of death?
What will you say when
you have no proof?
When the spoiler of
pleasures comes upon you?
Do not affairs return
to God? (42:53)
Since your guide is an
evil-teaching soul,
Do not imagine that your
affair will be triumphant.
In the darkness of heedlessness and in the sleep of
pride,
I fear that when you
awake, it will be the Day.65
This combination of poetry, proverbs, Quran, and Hadith,
woven with Shaykh al-Ghazali's Persian prose produces an immediacy that echoes
the urgency of remembering death. This same tone is found in his sessions and
letters and forms an essential component of the message he delivered to his
disciples and most likely of his own spiritual practice.
Although most who attended Ahmad's public sessions would
most likely have understood his discussions of death as a reference to physical
death, he was alluding to spiritual death, or what Maybudi refers to as
"inner death" (marg-i batin) as opposed to "outer
death" (marg-i zahir). This inner spiritual death would also have
been the subject of Ahmad's private letters. He does not elaborate on this
point, but in various passages of the Tamhidat, his disciple Ayn
al-Qudat provides details regarding the nature of spiritual death, which as he
puts it is real death:66 "According to us death is this, that
one die from anything except the Beloved so that he finds all living through
the Beloved and comes to live through the Beloved. Then you realize within
yourself what death is."67 From this perspective, real death is
the inner death wherein the self is annihilated before God before being reborn
such that one may then subsist in and through God. As Ayn al-Qudat puts it,
"when you are you and you are caught up with yourself, you are not. And
when you are not you, you will be entirely yourself." Phrasing this
principle with more clarity, Maybudi states, "Inner death is that one dies
in himself from himself without himself and comes to life from the Real in the
Real with the Real."68
Regarding the relationship between inner spiritual death
and outer corporeal death, Ayn al-Qudat writes, "Oh friend! In that world
all is life within life. And in this world all is death within death. Until you
transcend death, you will not attain life: And surely the Abode of the
Hereafter is life indeed, if they but knew (29:64)."® To attain to
"life within life," "the wayfarer must be born two times."
The first is from his mother into this world, the second is "to be born
from oneself" in order to see the world of subsistence.70 The
practice of remembering death is thus for one to "Know that there is a
death beyond the death of this physical mold and realize that there is another
life besides that of this physical mold."71 Thus by embracing
death, one moves toward that life within love to which true lovers aspire. In
this vein Maybudi writes, "Until you die in yourself, you will not come to
life through the Real. Die, O friend, if you want to live!"72
As seen in his calls to remember death, Ahmad al-Ghazali
warned his audience to be wary of sleep and advised Ayn al-Qudat that night is
the time for remembrance. Night vigil (tahajjud) is intrinsic to the
spiritual discipline he enjoins. This follows upon the injunction of the Quran:
Stay up in vigil at night, for there is benefit in that for you (17:79),
and the custom of the Prophet Muhammad, who was known to stand in prayer at
night until his feet were swollen. Regarding the efficacy of night prayers, the
Prophet is reported to have said, "Every night our Lord descends to the
lowest heaven when the last third of the night remains, saying, ‘Who calls upon
Me, I answer him. Who asks of Me, I give to him, and who asks forgiveness of
Me, I forgive him.’"73
In the first session recorded in the Majalis,
al-Ghazali advises his listeners to spend the night in prayer. If they are too
tired to stand, he advises them to continue praying while sitting, and if sleep
overcomes them, he advises them to "sleep while the heart is
remembering."74 From his perspective, night vigil is more than
a devotional activity—it is a practice wherein one’s true nature is sought.
Ahmad al-Ghazali and others have referred to this true nature as one’s
"moment" (waqt): "Devote your night to prostration and
seek your moment in it. Devote your night to cycles of prayer (ruku) and
the witness of your moment in it."75 This "moment" is
referred to in several other sessions with reference to the hadith:
"I have a moment with God which no angel brought nigh, nor prophet sent
out beholds (yattaliCu)."76 In another
session, he elevates the source of this sentiment, citing it as a hadith
qudsi: "The secret between Me and My servant which no angel brought
nigh nor prophet sent out beholds."77 To know one’s moment is
to be fully present to one’s true self, what Ahmad al-Ghazali refers to as the
secret (sirr) in at-Tajrid. It is to have conquered the crispations
and colorations (talwin) of temporality to achieve the station of
spiritual fixity (tamkin) in which one is no longer the slave of passing
moments, but their master. As al-Ghazali writes of the station of fixity in the
Sawanih, "Here he is the master of the moment. When he descends to
the sky of the world he will be over the moment, time will not be over him, and
he will be free from the moment."78 To find one’s moment in
night vigil can thus be seen as an essential practice for mastering one’s moment
in the state of spiritual fixity that is beyond all duality.
For al-Ghazali, "‘He who prays at night, his face
is beautiful during the day, and it comes to hearts that you are a righteous (salih)
man."79 When questioned about the meaning of the saying
that is transmitted in the manner of a hadith qudsi—"He lies who
claims love for Me then sleeps from Me when the night comes upon him,"80—he
gives a commentary which also provides instructions as to how one should
perform vigil:
That is—ignores Me, and all of you have
slept from Him, though you proceed along the paths. If you sleep in remembrance
of Him and perform the ablution after the vigil fatigues you, then you have
slept to Him or with Him, not from Him. Strive in your striving and perform
night vigil. When the vigil fatigues you and sleep and tiredness overcome you, Then
God is watchful over you (4:2).81
In a letter to a disciple, he provides specific
instructions and identifies Friday as the best night for vigil:
Depriving yourself of sleep on Friday
night is a prudent act; the hard cash (naqd) of manhood appears therein.82
In the beginning of the night pray, praise, and perform the ablution forty
times. Being clean and performing the major ablution before dawn on Friday
night is beautiful. Awaiting the return of good fortune (dawlat) without
separation (tamyiz) on Friday night, on condition that the invocation is
constant, will undoubtedly produce a result. If it does not produce a result in
one night, there is no reason for anguish, for it is expected that grocers put
a rock in the scales.83 If one asks for honesty and sincerity from
someone and spends many nights apologizing, that would not be so incredible.
"I could spend a thousand years hoping for You" is the glorification
from those whose souls are burning. One must persist in remembrance, and in
this watchfulness; sleeping for the blink of an eye on Friday night would break
the ablution. Preparing for it on Thursday and eating no food on Friday night
would be helpful in attaining this objective.84
Though it is not discussed extensively in his writings,
it is evident from the biographical dictionaries that Ahmad al-Ghazali, like
Muslim devotees before and after him, is known to have practiced spiritual
seclusion (khalwah) and isolation (uzlah). That he was a
proponent of this practice is supported by a passage in the sessions:
"Blessed is he who has a cell for seclusion in his house."85
But since he does not speak of seclusion in detail in his writings or sessions,
one must look to other authors in order to examine this practice, with the
caveat that whatever one can say regarding the practice of khalwah may
be less representative of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s practice than the other elements
examined in this chapter. It should also be noted that Shams ad-Din Tabriz!
writes of Shaykh Ahmad, "He did not sit in any of these forty-day
seclusions, for that is an innovation in the religion of Muhammad. Muhammad
never sat in a forty-day seclusion. That is in the story of Moses. Read, And
behold We appointed for Moses forty nights (2:51)."86 It
may, nonetheless, be the case that Ahmad engaged in shorter seclusions, as did
many Sufi practitioners.
Unlike the practice of dhikr and the practice of
night vigil (taha- jjud), the Quranic foundations for the practices of khalwah
and ‘uzlah are more allusive, and khalwah in particular is not
discussed in the hadith. Some have taken as justification for these
practices two Quranic verses in which the word itizal, deriving from the
same root as Uzlah, occurs. In the first instance, God tells the
Companions of the Cave, So when you have withdrawn from them (Ktazaltumuhum)
and what they serve, excepting God, take refuge in the cave. Your Lord will
unfold to you from His mercy, and will furnish you with a gentle issue in your
affair (18:16). The second refers to Abraham, who for many Sufis represents
the archetype of spiritual withdrawal, as when he said to his tribe:
“Now I will withdraw from you and
that which you call upon apart from God; I call upon my Lord, and haply I shall
not be, in calling upon my Lord, wretched.” So when he withdrew from them and
that which they were serving, apart from God, We gave him Isaac and Jacob, and
each we made a Prophet: and We gave them of Our mercy, and We ordained for them
a sublime, faithful, renown. (19:48-49)
But as Ahmad's brother Abu Hamid al-Ghazali observes in
the Kitab Adab al-uzlah (Proper Conduct in Retreat) of the Ihya,
these verses are a weak support for the Sufi practice. In both of these Quranic
stories, believers are retreating from companionship with nonbelievers and the
injustices of their societies, whereas the Sufi retreat is a withdrawal from
the society of "believers."87 As such, the best support
for this practice is to be found in the hadith or the sunnah (prophetic
practice), though there is no direct support for what was to become the
standard practice of the spiritual retreat.
Some Sufis refer to God's appointing to Moses forty
nights of seclusion as another prophetic prototype for the practice of seclu-
sion.88 Nonetheless, the classic example of seclusion to which many
in the Sufi tradition refer is the Prophet Muhammad's retreat on Mount Hira’
where he first received the revelation. As his wife A’ishah bint Abi Bakr (d.
58/678) is reported to have said, "Seclusion was made beloved to him, and
he would seclude [himself] in the cave of Hira’."89 But after
the revelation came and he was commanded to preach to the people of Mecca, he
seems to have ceased this practice. The closest practice to it during the period
of prophethood is that of itkaf, literally "clinging." In this
practice, the Prophet and some of his companions would remain in the Mosque for
several days devoted solely to worship (hbadah), leaving only for
personal necessities or calls of nature. This practice was associated mostly
with the month of Ramadan, especially the last ten days,90 though it
was practiced at other times as well. Fasting was a requirement for itkaf,
and the practitioner was to designate the number of days intended before beginning.
With such minimal requirements, the practice of i‘tizal
is a far cry from the practice of seclusion that was to develop among the
Sufis. Just where and how this practice began is difficult to say. It appears
that some early Muslims such as Sufyan ath-Thawri (d. 161/777-78) took hadith
such as, "There will come trials (fitan) at the beginning of which
are those who call to the fire. For you to die while clinging to the trunk of a
tree would be better than for you to follow any of them" as a call to withdraw
with their religion in tact, lest it be corrupted by society at large.91
The earlier texts seem to indicate that khalwah and ‘uzlah were
interchangeable terms referring not to a specific form of secluded remembrance,
but to retreating in order to be alone with God. In the Risalah of
al-Qushayri, the section entitled al-khalwah wa'l- Uzlah occurs among
the stations of the path and is treated more as an attribute of the seeker than
as a spiritual practice. As al-Qushayri writes, "It is said, ‘Who is the
recognizer?’ They say, ‘One who is present-absent (ka’in ba’in): present
with mankind, separated from them in his inmost secret.’"92
Affirming this same idea, he transmits that Abu Muhammad al-Jurayri (d.
312/924) was asked about ‘uzlah and replied, "It is entering among
the crowd while your secret core refrains from mixing with them, the
withdrawing of your soul from sins and your secret being connected to the
Real."93 Nonetheless, there is still some notion of the
devotion to dhikr in khalwah that came to be an integral part of
Sufi practice. Abu Uthman al-Maghribi is recorded as saying, "Whoever
chooses seclusion over companionship must be free of all remembrances save the
remembrance of his Lord, and free from all desires, save the contentment of his
Lord."94
The Kitab Adab al-uzlah of the Ihya’ is
probably the best place to look for attitudes towards khalwah and ‘uzlah
that were prevalent at the time of Ahmad al-Ghazali, especially as we know that
this is a work with which he was familiar. Here the words ‘uzlah and khalwah
are treated as synonyms. In mentioning both the benefits and dangers of
this practice, Abu Hamid appears to be treading a cautious course between the
perceived need to separate the heart from the distractions of the world and the
need to observe the communal obligations of Muslim society. On the one hand, he
transmits sayings like, "The joy of the believer and his delight is in the
seclusion of intimate discourse with his Lord."95 While on the
other hand, he exerts much effort in reminding the reader of what can be gained
through the fellowship of good companions, such as knowledge, etiquette, and
humility. Indeed, Abu Hamid joins the manners of ‘uzlah to those of
companionship, noting that a precondition for the spiritual retreat is the
desire that the evil of one’s own soul be held back from others. Thus, in the Ihya1,
spiritual seclusion and retreat are one and the same and serve both a
communal function and an individual function, though ultimately it is not for
everybody:
No one is capable of seclusion except by
holding firm to the Book of God. Those who hold firm to the Book of God are the
ones who retreat from the world through the remembrance of God. The rememberers
of God through God live by the remembrance of God, die by the remembrance of
God, and meet God through the remembrance of God. There is no doubt that social
intercourse prevents them from contemplation and remembrance, so retreat is
more appropriate for them. Therefore, at the beginning of his affair, the
Prophet would retire to Mount Hira’ and seek refuge in it until the light of
prophethood became strong in him, such that mankind did not veil him from God
and he was with them in his body while turning to God in his heart.96
Abu Hamid’s treatment of khalwah and Uzlah
demonstrates that at this time they would most likely have been identical and
gives some indication of an attitude towards this practice with which Ahmad
al-Ghazali was familiar. Nonetheless, it does not examine the specific practice
of those who sought to follow the spiritual path. No texts from al-Ghazali’s
time or before indicate the precise nature of the practice among Sufis. It
appears that the textual recording of rules for khalwah, and perhaps the
rules themselves, was coincident with the rise of the Sufi orders in the sixth
and seventh centuries. To get some idea of the practice in which Ahmad, Abu
Hamid, and others of their generation might have engaged, one can thus look to
some early spiritual descendants of Ahmad al-Ghazali, the aforementioned Abu
Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi and Najm ad-Din Razi (d. 654/1256), both of whom wrote
handbooks on Sufism that remain in use to this day.97 It is likely
that the practice of khalwah and ‘uzlah ascribed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali in the biographical dictionaries is in some way similar to what is
detailed by these later Sufi masters.
Both as-Suhrawardi's Awarif al-maarif and Razi's Mirsad
al-ibad prescribe forty days of seclusion. This was to become the norm
throughout the Islamic world, though adherence to this practice has weakened
over time. As support for this practice, they cite a saying attributed to the
Prophet: "Whoever worships God sincerely for forty mornings, the springs
of wisdom shall well up from his heart to his tongue."98 Both
believe that this practice is prefigured in the practice of all prophets and
cite the story of Moses in the Quran wherein God commanded that he observe
forty nights of seclusion after being delivered from Egypt.99
As-Suhrawardi is adamant in maintaining that the khalwah
is not for seeking mystical experiences and visions, though the adept might
experience supernatural phenomena (khawariq al-adat) that can advance
him in knowledge and certainty. He writes that seeking such experiences is
"pretension itself and sheer folly. People only choose seclusion and
isolation (wahdah) for the soundness of religion, inspecting the states
of the soul and sincerity of action towards God."100 This is
fundamentally important for understanding the function of seclusion in Islamic
thought. The purpose is to cultivate complete detachment from all that is other
than God in the hopes that this transient state of detachment will become an
enduring station. According to Razi, "The foundation of wayfaring and
attaining the stations of certainty is seclusion, withdraw, and being cut off
from people."101
Both authors address the correct inward attitude and the
proper outward conduct. Regarding the former, as-Suhrawardi writes:
Whoever chooses seclusion over
companionship must be free of all thoughts, save the remembrance of his Lord,
free of all desires, save the desire of his Lord, and free from the soul's
seeking all intermediary causes (asbab). For if he does not have this
attribute, then his seclusion will land him in trial and tribulation.102
Regarding the latter, both as-Suhrawardi and Razi list
several conditions that are necessary for the one who chooses seclusion. One
must perform the ablution and retreat to an empty room, which Razi says he
should "imagine to be his [funeral] shroud."103
As-Suhrawardi states that one should begin with two cycles of the ritual
prayer, "and repent to God for all his misdeeds, with crying and
humility."104 Both stress that there should be constant fasting
for the entire forty days and that when breaking the fast the food should be
minimal. As-Suhrawardi advocates a sparse diet, consisting of only bread and
water, though Razi is not as strict. Both advocate that one who is engaged in
spiritual retreat leave the room only for communal prayer and calls of nature,
always renewing the ablution. As-Suhrawardi stresses the need for communal
prayers, writing:
We have seen those whose intellect has
become deranged in retreat. Perhaps that is from the calamity of his
persistence in abandoning communal prayer even though it is necessary that he
leave his seclusion for communal prayer while he is remembering [God], not
subsiding in remembrance.105
Unlike Ahmad al-Ghazali, who prescribed la ilaha ilia
Llah, Allah Allah, and huwa huwa as formulas of remembrance or
invocation, both as-Suhrawardi and RazI prescribe only the first formula.
As-Suhrawardi specifies that the days chosen by most for ritual seclusion are
the month of Dhu'l-Qadah and the first ten days of Dhu’l- Hijjah, thus assuring
that one will come out from the khalwah on the id al-adha. While
both as-Suhrawardi and Razi recognize that one must undergo seclusion through
the guidance of a shaykh, Razi maintains that, "the seeker must constantly
join his heart to that of the shaykh."106 This would seem to be
a later development in keeping with the greater attachment to the shaykh that
came about with the rise of the Sufi orders. It is believed that by employing
the khalwah with sincerity one will experience the springs of wisdom
referred to in the hadith above, thus increasing the seekers in
certainty until "they are in all moments as is their bearing during the
forty days retreat."107
Sama‘
Perhaps the most debated of those practices that Ahmad
al-Ghazali is likely to have incorporated into his spiritual discipline is the
music and ritual dancing known as sama. Whereas other aspects of his
spiritual practice can be shown to have roots in the Quran and hadith tradition,
there is no immediate Quranic support for sama, and little can be found
in the hadith. The paucity of textual support for this practice is
demonstrated by the widespread use of one hadith to support the use of
music:
cA’isha said, "The Messenger of God entered during the festival
of tashriq and I had two slave girls of Abd Allah ibn Salam who were
playing two drums and singing.108 When
the Messenger of God entered I said ‘Stop!’ and the Messenger of God retired to
bed in the house, laid down, and wrapped his garments around himself. So I
said, ‘The day of singing is over’ [or ‘has been forbidden']." She said,
"So I told them to go.
"They left and by God I will
never forget Abu Bakr entering—and he was a man of quick reason (muttar),
who was of keen mind (hadid)—and he said, ‘Are the songs of Satan in the
house of the Messenger of God?' The Messenger of God uncovered his head and
said, ‘Abu Bakr, for all people there is a day of celebration; this is the day
of our celebration.'"109
Proponents of sama were well aware of the
weakness of their position, and thus argued effectively that there is no basis
for prohibiting music, rather than arguing that this practice had origins in
the prophetic sunnah.
Though there was a grave lack of textual support for
listening to music in a ritualized manner, and even less so for dancing, many
Sufis pursued and defended this practice. Ahmad al-Ghazali has long been
recognized as one of the foremost among them, but as mentioned in Chapter 1,
this derives from the attribution to him of the Bawariq al-ilma fi'r-radd
ala man yuharrimu's-sama bi'l-ijma, a work that is clearly not of his pen.
Nonetheless, several sources have recorded that Ahmad al-Ghazali incorporated sama
as part of his spiritual practice. One account in the Tamhidat of Ayn
al-Qudat Hamadani indicates that both attended Sufi sessions of sama:
"One night, my father, myself, and a group of leaders [imams] from
our city were present at the house of a Sufi leader [muqaddam]. Then we
were dancing and Abu Said Tirmidhl said, my father looked, then said: ‘I saw
Khwajah Imam Ahmad Ghazali dancing with us."110 As this is an
account of a spiritual vision, it does not attest that al-Ghazali participated
in sessions himself, but the aforecited account from Ibn Hajar aPAsqalani's Lisan
al-mizan does. Here al-Ghazali is said to have spun on his head in a Sufi
gathering "until he had no feet or hands upon the ground."111
Though not historically verifiable, these stories demonstrate that Ahmad
al-Ghazali was viewed by his contemporaries and by posterity as a practitioner
and proponent of this oft-debated practice. The practice of sama was so
widespread among the Sufis of this period as to make it very unlikely that it
was not a part of his practice.
Since sama is not mentioned in Ahmad al-Ghazali's
writings or sermons, as with the practice of spiritual retreat, one must look
to other authors of the Sufi tradition to obtain some understanding of this
practice. One of the earliest recorded instances of Sufi dance is a story of
al-Junayd found in several Sufi texts. The most salient of these accounts is
that in Najm ad-Din Kubra's Fawa’ih al-jamal wa-fawatih al-jalal:
One day he was in a session of sama
with some of the brothers. The moment (waqt) became beneficent for them
and they stood to dance and Junayd sat without moving. They thus thought that
in his opinion dancing was forbidden, so they asked him about it. He replied, "Yom see the
mountains and consider them solid" (Quran:
27:88).112
Here al-Junayd is referring to the fact that he was
experiencing the state (hal) of sama within, though not
participating physically.
That sama was a practice of central importance to
the Sufis is demonstrated by the extensive treatment of it in the handbooks of
al-Hujwiri, as-Sarraj, and as-Suhrawardi, and a book of the Ihya entitled
Kitab Adab as-sama wa'l-wajd (Proper Conduct in Sama and Ecstasy).
Without trying to cover all of the various elements of these writings, one can
identify four basic issues that dominate these discussions of sama: (1)
that it is permissible; (2) that it is dangerous for the unqualified; (3) that
there is a hierarchy of those qualified for it; and (4) that it is a communal
activity. The discussion of its permissibility predominates in most texts,
indicating that it was a point of great contention. Some proponents of sama,
such as al-Hujwiri, believed that dancing is forbidden while audition is permitted.113
Ahmad al-Ghazali was most likely of the same opinion as his brother that both
were permissible.114 Despite the arguments for permissibility, most
proponents acknowledge that sama is not for all, as music can stir both
noble, ascending passions and base, descending passions. As Abu Bakr ash-Shibli
(d. 394/945) is reported to have said, "Its outward is a trial and its
inward is an admonition (ibrah). Whoever recognizes allusion (al-isharah),
is permitted to listen to the admonition. If not, he invites trial and is
subjected to tribulations."115 For this reason, the levels of
qualification are often discussed. Most proponents agree that novices are not
fit to attend sessions of sama. Regarding this opinion, al-Hujwiri
relates a saying from al-Junayd to a young 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 Sufis prac- tice."116 As
Shaykh Abu Madyan (d. 594/1198) of the Moroccan Sufi tradition writes, "The
beginner should not be present at ecstatic sessions until he has mortified his
carnal soul with fasting, performing the fast of intimate union, and standing
[in prayer]. Only then is it allowable for him to be present and
[participation] is permissible for him."117 Both Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali and as-Sarraj expand on the discussion of suitability by devoting
several pages to the levels of audition and its auditors. That sama1
is a communal activity is evident from the fact that all accounts of the
practice presuppose a gathering. Furthermore, as al-Junayd is reported to have
said, "Audition requires three things without which it is not heard . . .
the time, the place, and the brothers [i.e., the Sufis; as-zaman wa'l-makan
wa'l-ikhwan]."lw In this last respect, sama1
can be seen as the expansive outward complement of the inward and contracting
retreat, both of which are aspects of dhikr.119
A detailed analysis of the various practices described
in the many texts on sama1 would take this study too far
afield.120 I will simply conclude by citing the rules laid down by
al-HujwM, rules likely quite close to those observed by Ahmad al-Ghazali, his
master, his companions, and his disciples:
The rules of audition prescribe that it
should not be practiced until it comes (of its own accord), and that you must
not make a habit of it, but practice it seldom, in order that you not cease to
revere it. It is necessary that a spiritual director be present during the
performance, that the place be cleared of common people, that the singer be a
respectable person, that the heart be emptied of worldly thoughts, that the
disposition not be inclined to amusement, and that every artificial effort (takalluf
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 ardor of ecstasy (wajd). The auditor must have enough perception to
be capable of receiving the divine influence and doing justice to it. When its
might is manifest in his heart, he must not endeavor to repel it, and when its
force is broken, he must not endeavor to attract it . . . And if he has 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 in accord
with his own moment (waqt) and establish its dominion, that the blessing
thereof may come to him.121
Shahid-bazi
The most controversial of the spiritual practices
attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali is shahid-bazi or "witness
play," the practice of gazing upon beardless young men.122 As
seen in Chapter 1, Shaykh Ahmad’s engagement with this practice is portrayed in
a positive light by Shams ad-Din Tabriz! and Abd ar-Rahman Jami and in a
negative light by Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi. Unlike the practices discussed above, in
none of his extant writings does Shaykh Ahmad enjoin shahid-bazi. Nonetheless,
there is evidence that it may have been a practice in which he engaged. This
can be ascertained from allusions to gazing on the beauty of the human form, be
it male or female, in the Sawanih, the attribution of this practice to
him in some Sufi and biographical works, and the metaphysical and theological
explanation of the practice provided by his most famous disciple, Ayn al-Qudat
Hamadani.
The details of Ahmad
al-Ghazali’s understanding of the relationship between the lover and the
beloved will be studied in Chapter
5.
Here it
should be noted that the distinction between love for God and love for humans
is often difficult to discern in the Sawanih. This may be intentional,
as later advocates of the practice of shahid-bazi understand the
contemplation of beauty in the human beloved to be the contemplation of the
manifestation or self-disclosure of Divine beauty in the human form. Shams
ad-Din Tabrizi alludes to this when he writes of Ahmad al-Ghazali, "He did
not incline to these beautiful forms out of appetite. He saw something that no
one else saw." As Ayn al-Qudat explains in his Tamhidat, these
beautiful forms are all manners in which God displays His own form:
Alas! "I saw my Lord on the Night
of the Ascent in the most beautiful form." This "most beautiful of
forms" is the assumption of representational forms (tamaththul). If
not, then what is it? "Truly God created Adam and his children upon the
form of the Merciful" is another type of tamaththul. Oh! For His
Names! One of them is musawwir, which is The Form Giver. But I say that
He is musawwar, that is, The Form Displayer. Do you know in which bazaar
these forms are displayed and sold? In the bazaar of the elite. Hear it from
Mustafa, blessings be upon him, when he said, "In Paradise there is a bazaar
in which forms are sold." "In the most beautiful form" is this.123
That is to say that the forms one
witnesses in this world are not only made by God, they also display God. The
most beautiful form is that which was given to
Adam, since as another hadith states, "God created Adam upon His
form."124 In this vein, Ruzbihan Baqli states that God made
human beings "the niche of His splendor’s light, the resplendence of His
attributes, and the loci for the manifestation of the projection of His
self-disclosure."125 Human beauty is differentiated from other
forms of created beauty because the human being displays the full radiance of
the Divine Essence, whereas other created forms only display God’s attributes.126
The self-disclosure of Divine beauty in the human forms is thus the most
immediate manner in which to contemplate Divine beauty. For most wayfarers on
the path of love it is in fact necessary to contemplate the self-disclosure of
Divine beauty in the human form because very few can obtain direct access to
God’s Supreme Beauty. As Ruzbihan Baqli writes, "The beginning of all
lovers (ashiqan) proceeds from the path of those who witness (shawahid),
except for some of the elite among the People of recognizing Oneness, for whom
witnessing the universal occurs in their spirit (jan) without witnessing
transient existents. This is among the rare occurrences from the Unseen."127
Thus for spiritual attainment on the path of love, most aspirants need to
witness beauty as manifest in the form of individual existents in order to
witness Divine beauty. As Ayn al-Qudat put it, engaging in shahid-bazi
is necessary for attaining to the higher levels of the spiritual path wherein
one lives through God and dies through God:
If you want to know more about life and
real death (mawt-i manawi) hear what Mustafa said in his supplication,
"O God! I live through You and I die through You."128 Do
you not have any knowledge of what dying through Him is and of what and living
through Him is?
Alas! This is a state that is known
by those who are witness players (shahid-bazan) and who know what it is
to be alive with the witness and what death is without the witness. The witness
and the witnessed reveal life and death to the true witness players.129
This brief sketch provides some idea of the spiritual
practices Ahmad al-Ghazali employed for most of his adult life. Among these, he
recognizes remembrance as the sine qua non for wayfaring upon the Sufi
path. All of the other practices can be understood as supports for it. Some of
these practices, such as night vigil and the remembrance of death, are employed
by many Muslims independently of Sufi Islam and without the guidance of a
spiritual master. But Sufis maintain that the use of spiritual retreat,
audition, and progressive formulas of invocation require a guide. It is in this
vein that in one of his sessions, Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali implores his
audience, "The ini- tiatic pact (al-bayah) is incumbent upon
you."130 Though in his time the relationship with the spiritual
master was not as formalized as it would become thereafter,131 his
emphasis on initiation and the nature of the specific guidance that he offers
in his letters indicate that it was central to his understanding of spiritual
wayfaring.
Throughout Ahmad al-Ghazali’s instructions to his pupils
in both the letters and the sermons, two elements are emphasized consistently.
First, the path must be traveled immediately with no questions asked:
Do not be preoccupied with excuses! Take
to the path and travel it! For there is no escape from Him but to Him. There is
a steep path before you; if you do not scale it, you will be scaled. If you
travel upon it, you will be at peace, and if you are made to travel, you will
be destroyed. There is no doubt about that.132
The second aspect is that the path must be traveled with
complete sincerity: "For every deed in which there is no sincerity (ikhlas),
its non-existence is better than its existence. For if you do not prolong
supererogatory prayer perhaps you will say to yourself, ‘O worthless
one.’"133 So although it is incumbent upon the serious seeker
to devote himself at once, if it is not done with purity and sincerity, it can
be more of a hindrance than a support. The performance of pious deeds without a
sound heart will function as yet another veil.
Chapter 4
The Roots of
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s Teachings
Many aspects of Ahmad al-Ghazali's thought have clear
precedents in the early Sufi tradition, particularly his emphasis on dhikr,
which was examined in the previous chapter. But dhikr is of such central
significance to all followers of Sufism that it is difficult to establish any
definite direct influences. Spiritual principles such as scrupulousness (war‘),
repentance (tawbah), reverence (taqwa), fear (khawf), hope
(raja‘), certainty (yaqm), and many others are also discussed by
al-Ghazali, but not with such frequency as to constitute central themes.
Although the use of such terms illustrates his direct relationship with the
previous Sufi tradition, it does not tie him to any specific individuals or
contingents within the early Sufi community, or serve to define his teachings.
The two dimensions of his thought that differentiate them from those of other
Sufi masters are his teachings on sympathy for Satan and on the centrality of
love (‘ishq). The latter proves to be the defining element of his
thought, one that establishes his distinct contribution to the development of
Sufism and Persian Sufi literature.
A sympathetic understanding of Satan can be seen as a
logical outcome of Ahmad al-Ghazali's teachings on love. He believes that all
of creation must necessarily have a face of beauty that is turned toward the
divine beloved—otherwise it would not exist. From this perspective, the
ugliness of Satan as he turns toward creation is because Satan knows that God
alone possesses true beauty. His refusal to bow before Adam, which is attested
in several Quranic passages (2:30-36; 7:11-25; 17:61-65; 20:115-124; 15:25-43;
38:71, 85), is thus an expression of sincere monotheism and sheer love for God.
Nonetheless, as seen in Chapter 1, al-Ghazali takes his teachings regarding
Satan to an extreme that caused several biographers, beginning with Ibn
al-Jawzi, to question his orthodoxy.
In several instances, al-Ghazali evokes the standard
Islamic teaching in which Satan is presented as a disobedient jinn who had
risen to the level of the angels but was then obstinate when ordered to
prostrate before Adam, claiming, “I am better than him. Thou hast created me
from fire, but Thou hast created him from clay" (38:76). Having been
cursed by God, he then became the enemy of both man and God, who is to be
punished for his intransigence. But in his sessions and in several excerpts
preserved in the biographical tradition, he portrays Satan as the greatest
lover and the foremost of God’s servants in testifying to unity (tawhid).1
Here, Ahmad al-Ghazali’s teachings reflect the discussion of Satan found in
sixth Tasin of Mansur al-Hallaj’s Kitab al-Tawasin, entitled,
“Beinglessness and Ambiguity":
6.
Among the
inhabitants of heaven, there is none who affirms unity like Iblis.
7.
When Iblis
was veiled by the real essence (ayn), and he fled the glances and gazed
into the secret, and worshipped the Worshipped stripped of all else.
8.
Only to be
cursed when he attained individuation and given demands when he demanded more.
9.
He was
told “Prostrate!" He said, “No other!" He was asked, “Even if My
curse is upon you?" He replied, “No other! There is no way for me to one
who is not You. I am an abject lover."2
Al-Hallaj continues his defense of Iblis by allowing him
to speak for himself during an encounter with Moses,
13.
Moses
encountered Iblis on Mount Sinai and said to him, “O Iblis, what prevented you
from prostrating?" He replied, “The proclamation of one thing worshipped
prevented me. Had I prostrated to him [Adam], I would have been like you, for
you were called one time, 'Look to the mountain' (7:139) and then
looked. I was called to prostrate a thousand times, but did not prostrate;
proclamations are in accord with meanings."
14.
Moses said
to him, "You abandoned the command."
He replied, "That was a trial, not a command."
Iblis continued, "O Moses this and
that are a dressing. The state cannot be relied upon, for it changes. But
recognition (ma'rifah) is truly as it is and does not change even though
the figure has changed."3
The version of this story attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali
reflects the influence of al-Hallaj, but is somewhat different:
Moses encountered Iblis on the road of
Mount Sinai and said, "O Iblis, why did you not prostrate to Adam?"
Iblis replied, "Never, God forbid!
The Worshipped is one. For seven hundred thousand years I have been saying,
‘Praise and Holy,’ how could I blacken the face of my servitude with two?"
Moses said, "O Iblis, why did you abandon the
command?"
He replied, "That was the command
of a trial, had it been the command of a wish, then, O Moses, would I have
proclaimed the testification to unity."4
There is enough variation in their respective accounts
to indicate that al-Ghazali could have received these teachings through an oral
tradition, rather than through direct access to the text.5 Both
accounts portray Iblis as a sincere worshipper of the one God. But whereas
al-Hallaj has him criticize Moses, al-Ghazali uses Moses as an interlocutor.
Al-Hallaj has Iblis deliver a lesson regarding the nature of recognition, but
in al-Ghazali’s account Iblis explains only the nature of his particular
relationship with God. This may demonstrate that al-Ghazali, or those from whom
he received this account, agreed with al-Hallaj regarding the nature of Iblis’
trial but did not agree that Moses was to be criticized for the nature of his
worship.
In the biographical literature, al-Ghazali is portrayed
as representing Iblis not only as a sincere worshipper, but also as a true
lover. The ultimate significance of Satan is found in an account related by Ibn
al-Jawzi in which al-Ghazali says, "Whoever has not learned tawhid
from Iblis is a dualist (zindiq)."6 For al-Ghazali, as
for al-Hallaj before him and ‘Ayn al-Qudat and ‘Attar after him, Iblis is
perfect in testifying to unity. His refusal to bow to Adam results not from
hubris but from the purest and most sincere love of God. He is, therefore, a
model for those who follow the path of love. As ‘Ayn al-Qudat has Iblis say:
"Whoever would be a lover of gentleness or a lover of severity is a lover
of himself, not a lover of the Beloved,"7 which is to say that
whoever wants other than God in and of Himself is not yet a true lover.
Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali's teachings on love are the most
defining feature and most distinctive contribution of his writings. Like Ahmad
al-Ghazali, previous Sufis, such as Shaqiq Balkhi (d. 194/810), Abu'l- Hasan
ad-Daylami (d. late 4th/10th century), Abu Talib al-Makki (d. 386/996), and
others, had envisaged the spiritual path as degrees of love. But in his Sawanih,
Ahmad al-Ghazali makes a revolutionary move in Sufi thought by placing love at
the center of metaphysics. He is not alone in this move, as many elements of
this perspective can also be found in the works of his predecessor ‘Abdallah
Ansari of Herat (d. 481/1089), as well as those of al-Ghazali's younger
contemporaries, Sam‘ani, Maybudi, and ‘Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani. Together, this
cluster of authors marks the advent of a new expression regarding the nature of
love. Among them the Sawanih stands out as the most emphatic sustained
discourse on the nature of love, in which all elements of creation and the Sufi
path are defined in relation to love.
The poetry of such famous Sufi figures as Rabi‘ah
al-‘Adawiyyah (d. 185/801-2) and Dhu'n-Nun al-Misri (d. 243/857 or 245/859) may
appear to indicate a centrality of love similar to that expressed by Ahmad
al-Ghazali, but authors from the early Sufi tradition emphasize a human love
for God that is absolute, not a love that is the Absolute Itself—and this is
the crux of the matter. Rabi‘ah al-‘Adawiyyah is often recognized as the first
to speak of love as being due to God alone.8 She expressed this
realization in short poems such as these oft-cited verses:
O Beloved of hearts, I have none like unto Thee,
Therefore have pity this day on the sinner
Who comes to Thee.
O my Hope and my Rest and my Delight,
The heart can love none other than Thee.9
And,
Two loves I give Thee, love that yearns,
And love because Thy due is love.
My yearning my remembrance turns
To Thee, nor lets it from Thee rove.10
The sentiment that God alone is worthy of love is echoed
throughout the literature of early Sufism. Figures such as the famous Abu Bakr
ash-Shibll (d. 334/945), who was known for his teachings on love,11
spoke of love (mahabbah) as "a fire in the heart, consuming all
save the will of the Beloved,"12 or as that which "erases
all that is other than God from the heart,"13 and thus
considered mystical love as an intense desire centering one’s aspiration (himmah)
on God alone and cutting one off from all that is other than the Divine. In
contrast, Ahmad al-Ghazali makes ‘ishq the center of an emphatic
discourse on the nature of reality and the stages of the Sufi path, discussing
all aspects of creation and of spiritual wayfaring in terms of ‘ishq.
Whereas previous Sufis, such as the famous al-Hallaj, recognized love as a
Divine Attribute and, in turn, one of the highest human attributes, or like Abu
Nasr as-Sarraj (d. 378/988), author of Kitab al-Luma‘ (The Book of
Illumination), one of the most important early Sufi handbooks, as a particular
state or station on the path of spiritual wayfaring, Ahmad al-Ghazali saw love
as the Divine Essence Itself. Though previous accounts express the need for
unconditional love for God alone and can be interpreted to present the path of
spiritual wayfaring as degrees of love, they do not express the subtle
metaphysics of love found in the Sawanih and later writings of the Persianate
Sufi tradition. The Sufis involved in this discussion would not always have
employed terms such as "essence" and "attribute" in a
technical manner. Nonetheless, the general understanding of the distinction
between the Divine Essence and the Divine Attributes prevalent in Islamic
thought undergirds their discussion. The "essence" (dhat)
refers to a thing in and of itself, while the "attributes" (siffat)
and "names" (asma}) refer to the qualities and
descriptions of that same thing. The Divine Essence in Itself is beyond human
comprehension, but the names and attributes can be comprehended in some
measure. To view "love" as the Divine Essence is thus to understand
it as the very nature of God beyond the names and attributes by which one can know
something of the Divine Nature. To claim that one can have some realization of
that Divine Essence in Itself through love would then be seen by many as a
radical claim that challenges the boundaries of orthodoxy.
The ideas regarding love and the Divine Essence most
similar to those of Ahmad al-Ghazali are found in accounts of al-Hallaj's
teachings on love transmitted by Abu'l-Hasan ad-Daylami in his Atf al-alif
al-maduf ala'l-lam al-matuf (The Inclination of the Intimate Alif to the
Lam Towards which it Inclines) and are alluded to in other early Sufi texts. It
would also appear that an understanding of love similar to that expressed in
the Sawanih underlies the works of ‘Abdallah Ansari, though it is not
expressed as directly in Ansari's works. Before addressing the various
discussions of love that preceded Ahmad al-Ghazali, I must briefly survey his
teachings on love. These can be divided into two aspects: the ontological and
the soteriological relationship with God, or the path of descent and the path
of ascent. The ontological relationship is summed up by the well-known hadith
qudsi that is cited in Ahmad al-Ghazali's at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid
and which has been inserted at the beginning of some later manuscripts of the Sawanih:
"I was a hidden treasure and I loved to be known, therefore I created
creation in order that I would be known."14 Ahmad al-Ghazali
sees love as the essence of God and the substance from which all else is woven.
From this perspective, every existent thing is a self-disclosure (tajalli)
of the Divine; everything is what he refers to in the Sawanih as "a
glance from loveliness (kirishmeh-yi husn)." As he writes:
The secret face of everything is the
point of its connection, and a sign hidden in creation (san), and beauty
is the brand of creation. The secret of the face is that face that faces love.
So long as one does not see the secret of the face, he will never see the sign
of creation and beauty. The face is the beauty of and the face of your Lord
remains (55:27). Other that it, there is no face, for all that is upon
it fades (55:26).15
This ontological relationship is not, however, the focus
of the Sawanih, nor of any of Ahmad al-Ghazali's writings or sermons. He
does not write as a theologian, theosopher, philosopher or Sufi theoretician.
Rather, he is first and foremost a spiritual guide. From his perspective, it is
not so important where and how things have come into being; what is important
to know is that for the spiritual wayfarer "his being and attributes are
themselves the provision of the (spiritual) path."16 As such,
Ahmad al-Ghazali always focuses on the path of wayfaring by which the lover—the
spiritual adept or seeker— ascends through the beloved—the God of beliefs—to be
annihilated in the ocean of Love—the Divine Essence.
The soteriological relationship is expressed in the
Quranic verse He loves them and they love Him (5:54), which became the
central verse for the discussion of love in the Persian tradition, and
with which Ahmad begins his Sawanih. As love is the true essence of all
creation, the realization of love is neither an emotion nor a sentiment but the
natural response of one’s being to God, and its locus is the heart: "The
function of the heart is being a lover. So long as there is no love, it has no
function. When it becomes a lover its affair will also become ready. Therefore,
it is certain that the heart has been created for love and being a lover and
knows nothing else."17 In the Sawanih, he presents the
spiritual path as a subtle interplay of love in which the spiritual seeker is a
lover who comes to realize his true identity as a locus for the beloved’s love
of himself. Here the Sufi path is envisaged as degrees of love wherein one
ultimately transcends the duality of lover and beloved to arrive at the pure
essence of Love Itself. The beloved is not the Absolute, as in the poetry and
prose of the previous Sufis; rather, the beloved is here considered to be the
God of beliefs that serves as a locus of spiritual aspiration for one traveling
the path, but must be transcended in order to advance to the Divine Essence
from which both the lover and the beloved are derived. As Ahmad writes:
"the derivation of the lover and the beloved is from Love. When the
accidentalities of derivations arise, the affair is again dissolved in the
oneness of its reality."18
In the beginning of the spiritual path, the wayfarer
must be severed from all of creation such that he becomes a true lover,
desiring none but the beloved and having intimacy with him alone. According to
al-Ghazali, the desire for just one hair of creation will prevent him from
fully realizing his identity as lover. At the culmination of this stage, the
lover comes to see the loveliness of the beloved in all things, for he realizes
the inner face of beauty that is turned toward the beloved, rather than the
outer face of ugliness turned toward creation. When the lover’s love is pure,
the beloved needs the lover, for the reflection of the beloved’s loveliness (husn)
in the gaze of the lover is the only means by which the beloved can take
nourishment from his own beauty. Through the full reflection of the beloved’s
beauty, the lover becomes more the beloved than the beloved himself and a
connection (wisal) is established between them. The lover thus becomes
the beloved and all of the lover’s need (nayaz) is transformed into naz—the
coquetry of one who feigns disdain for the lover. Here the duality of lover and
beloved has been bridged, and the covetousness of being a lover is abandoned
such that the spiritual wayfarer is immersed in the essence of Love and no
longer deluded by love for an object. As Fakhr ad-Din ’Iraqi (d. 688/1289)
writes in his Lamaat (Flashes), "Love is a fire which when it falls
in the heart burns all that it finds therein, to the extent that the form of
the beloved is also wiped from the heart."19 This is the stage
which al-Ghazali refers to as complete detachment (tajrid) in the
singularity (tafrid) of Love. But from the point of view of Love Itself,
"the lover and the beloved are both other, just like strangers,"20
and have always been so, for they are necessarily marked by the stain of
duality.
Love in Sufi Literature Before the 6th/12th Century
As with many developments in intellectual history, all
the steps that may have preceded the expressions of love found in the Sawanih
and the later Sufi tradition cannot be traced. Within the Islamic tradition,
love is addressed in all fields of knowledge, from belletristic literature to
philosophy, theology, and even law. The Sufi teachings examined here are just
one dimension of an extensive intellectual tradition. Sayings regarding love
are attributed to almost all the early figures associated with the Sufi
tradition. Among those figures who are said to have taught about love in later
generations, such as Jafar as-Sadiq and Abu Sa’id b. Abi’l-Khayr (d. 440/1021),
the manuscript tradition calls into question the veracity of many of the
sayings attributed to them. To some extent this can also be said for sayings
attributed to earlier Sufis by Abu Nasr as-Sarraj, ’Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami (d.
412/1021), ’Abd al-Karim al-Qushayri (d. 465/1072), and others. But these
sayings were attributed and recorded before the time of Ahmad al-Ghazali,
whereas those sayings attributed to Abu Sa’id were recorded after the Sawanih.
The sayings found in the works of as-Sarraj, as-Sulami, al-Qushayri, and others
are thus part of the textual tradition preceding the Sawanih and
illuminate the discussion of love that preceded Ahmad al-Ghazali.
The Asrar-i tawhid, which records the life and
sayings of Abu Sa’id, was compiled by his grandson Muhammad Ibn al-Munawwar (d.
598-9/1202) many years after Abu Sard's death.21 Given the
complications in authenticating many of his statements, I will not incorporate
the teachings on mahabbah or ‘ishq attributed to Abu Sald in this
study. The reports about his teachings may indicate that there was an extensive
oral Sufi tradition regarding ‘ishq prior to the Sawanih, but the
later compilation dates of the manuscripts that contain his teachings make it
difficult to draw any historical conclusions from them. As will be demonstrated
in the following analysis, many allusions in the written tradition before
al-Ghazali also indicate an extensive oral tradition, the full extent of which
is difficult to measure.
Shaqiq
Balkhi.22
Among the earliest extended discussions of love in Sufi
texts is a treatise attributed to Shaqiq Balkhi entitled Adab al-‘ibadat
(The Comportment of Worshippers).23 Balkhi lists four way stations (manazil),
which he presents in ascending order: zuhd (asceticism), khawf
(fear), shawq (longing), and mahabbah (love). In the way station
of zuhd the adept has limited his food to two meals a day in which only
a third of his stomach is filled, leaving the other two thirds for breath [of
the Merciful], glorification, and reading the Quran. One accomplished in zuhd
no longer seeks the world and has no need for anything from it, save the
exigencies of life: “This is a beautiful, good and virtuous way-station."24
Khawf is then connected to zuhd just as the spirit is connected
to the body and "the light of fear is the light of zuhd."25
"The principle of fear is to remember death until one is softened, until
one fears God as if one sees Him."26 The one who has practiced
this for forty days has the light of fear upon his face, he does not stray and
is not negligent, and "he is perpetually crying, supplicating much and
sleeping little."27 He never wearies of invoking or thanking
God. This for Balkhi is the way station that is deemed great by the common
people, as they do not know other than it. The third way station is desire (shawq)
for entry into paradise, the principle of which is contemplating the blessing
of heaven. When one has persisted in this for forty days, "the light of
desire dominates his heart and makes him forget the fear which was in his
heart."28 He has intense love and is perpetually doing what is
good.
For Shaqiq Balkhi, the highest and
noblest way station is that of love, which is for those whose hearts God has
strengthened with sincere certainty, who are purified of sins and free from
flaws. The light of love overcomes the heart without being separated from the
light of zuhd, khawf, and shawq. The heart forgets the desire and
fear that was in it and is filled with love and
desire for God. The principle of this way station is that "the heart loves
what God loves and hates what God hates, until nothing is more beloved to him
than God and those who please Him."29 When one has purified his
intention, he is then the beloved, the munificent (karm), the one
brought near and refined. He listens only to what God loves, and because of
God’s love for him, whosoever hears him or sees him loves him; for "the
light of love for God is the strongest and highest of the lights of
servitude."30 In Balkhi’s own summary he says of those who
love: "Their hearts are attached to their Lord, enjoying intimate
discourse with Him when they are alone with Him, submitting their hearts to
what they hope from His mercy and kindness—and He is the one who conquers their
hearts."31
Though Shaqiq Balkhi makes love the supreme spiritual
way station, this treatise shows little of the all-encompassing view of love
presented by Ahmad al-Ghazali and his contemporaries. The ontological element
is not present, as it is not a treatise that touches on cosmogony or ontology,
but only on spiritual wayfaring. In this respect it also falls well short of
the total emphasis on love in the works of Ahmad al-Ghazali and the later
Persian tradition, for even in the highest stages of love, the duality
between lover and Beloved is firmly maintained. Thus he does not take love to
the level wherein the substance of all that exists is a love from which both
the Lord (the Beloved) and the servant (the lover) are derived.
Ad-Daylamī—ʿAṭf al-alif
The most important text for understanding the many
theories of love in the early medieval period is Abu’l-Hasan ad-Daylami’s
aforementioned Atf al-alif al-maduf ala'l-lam al-matuf. Ad-Daylami
transmits many important theories of love from Sufis, philosophers,
theologians, and adibs, ranging from the concept that love is an
attribute pertaining to the Divine Essence to the belief that it is a malady of
the heart akin to intoxication or stupefication. Among the most important
contributions of this work is that it provides exposure to the controversies
regarding the understanding of love in this period. As ad-Daylami writes in the
introduction:
We have found love to be the most
renowned and highest state among both the commoners and the elite, the ignorant
and the knowledgeable, the noble and the lowly, the esteemed and the abased.
For this reason its obscurity has increased, its falsification has been
magnified, and corruption of it has appeared among its people through the
adulteration of those who adulterate, the excess of those who enter into it,
and the falsification of those who lay claim to it. So its truth has been
hidden in its falsity, its beauty in its ugliness, and its reality in its
metaphor [majaz], until the one cannot be distinguished from the other.32
He also reveals an underlying controversy regarding the
term most central to the Persian Sufi love tradition, ‘ishq. This is
directly exposed when ad-Daylami discusses the theologians (mutakallimun) who,
by his account, have almost nothing positive to say about love and are given to
considering ‘ishq as an affliction of the soul and a malady of the heart
that is to be avoided.33 For many generations the term ‘ishq
was a source of great debate among the belletrists (udaba1), the
fuqaha}, and the ‘ulama1.34
Though no strict definitions were agreed upon, it was regarded by many as a
state of passionate love, or as a raw physical lust to be tamed and avoided at
all costs. Many had serious misgivings about the use of this term, and the
second half of Ibn al-Jawzi’s Dhamm al-hawa (The Condemnation of Lust)
is entirely about the evils of ‘ishq and the fate of those who succumb
to it. But for all those who opposed the use of the word '“ishq" to
designate love between God and human beings, there were also scholars such as
Muhammad b. Da’ud al-Isfahani (d. 297/910) who admonished them for failing to
understand the tender nature of those susceptible to the storms of true love.35
The effect the condemnation of the use of this term had
is evident when ad-Daylami feels the need to cite an accepted authority before
employing the term himself:
We begin by mentioning the
permissibility of [claiming] ‘ishq for God and from God and the
difference of our shaykhs regarding that, so that one who hears this word from
us will not condemn [it] and reject it when he comes upon it in its appropriate
context, due to its unfamiliarity, because our shaykhs do not employ it in
their discourse, save rarely or in isolated incidents.36
He then alludes to a division among the shaykhs
regarding love and mentions those who have agreed that it is permissible to
employ the term ‘ishq:
Among those who permit [the use of it]
are Abu Yazid al-Bistami, Abu’l-Qasim al-Junayd, Husayn b. Mansur al-Hallaj and
others. As for our Shaykh, Abu ‘Abdallah b. al-Khafif, he rejected this for
some time until he came upon a treatise by Abu’l-Qasim al-Junayd concerning ishq,
in which the meaning of ishq, its derivation and its quiddity (mahiyyah)
were mentioned. He then retreated from his rejection, professed it, permitted
it, and wrote a treatise about it.37
By citing al-Bistami, al-Junayd, and al-Hallaj as
proponents of the term ishq, ad-Daylami is making a strong case for its
legitimacy, as these are three of the most renowned figures of early Sufism.
Through the process of canonization, al-Junayd came to be respected as
"the Peacock of the Sufis" and the Shaykh of Shaykhs.38
Little information is provided that would let us know exactly what the treatise
attributed to him by ad-Daylami may have contained, save one saying:
"Al-Junayd said 'Ishq is taken from the verb "he loved" (ashiqa)
and it is the top of the mountain and its peak. Because of this, it must be
said that so and so loved (ashiqa) when love increases, is aroused and
rises until it attains to its peak and reaches its reality.’39 In
presenting ishq as what is attained when love reaches its highest
degree, this citation foreshadows a position that will be encountered again
when discussing the treatment of love in Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s Revival of
the Religious Sciences.
While ad-Daylami’s text offers many avenues for studying
teachings on love, two are of central concern for identifying precedents to the
teachings of Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali and the later Persian tradition, those of
al-Hallaj, who is the most prominent figure of the text, and those of
ad-Daylami himself. In ad-Daylami’s most extensive presentation of his own
views, he presents an eleven-step path of love that culminates in ishq.
In the beginning of the discussion he writes:
Love has names derived from its levels
and degrees that vary in expression, while the reality is one. Through its
steady increase, its names differ. They are altogether ten stations and in the
eleventh they culminate in ishq, which is the very limit. So when one reaches
it, the name mahabbah falls away from it and it is called by other
names.40
The ten stations before ‘ishq are concord (ulfah),
intimacy (uns), affection (wadd or mawaddah), love (mahabbah),
comity (khillah), ardor (sha’af), zeal (shaghaf), devotion
(istihtar), infatuation (walah), and rapture (hayman).41
Like al-Junayd and perhaps his own Shaykh Ibn al-Khafif (d. 371/982),
ad-Daylami sees ‘ishq as the highest degree of love. As ad-Daylami
expresses it: "It is the boiling of love (hubb) until it pours over
its outer and inner extremities. . . . As for its reality (ma‘na), it is
that one’s share (hazz) departs from everything except his beloved (ma‘shuq)
until he forgets his love (‘ishq) because of his beloved."42
This means that one has surrendered all that one has—his share—and all that one
is to the beloved.
The full attainment of love is described by ad-Daylami
later in the twenty-first chapter, "Regarding the Limit of the Perfection
of Love," wherein love at its highest level is considered to be one and
the same as recognition (ma‘rifah):
Know that love is an attribute belonging
to the lover, so long as it remains valid to attribute it to him. When it is no
longer valid to attribute it to him, he is transported from it to something
other than it. Then when he is transported from it, a name is derived for him
from that to which he is transported, and a quality [is derived] from the state
engendered for him. The past state is subsumed in the future state. Then he is
called drunk, overwhelmed, uprooted or subsumed. Such is the case when he is
transposed form love to love—meaning when he attains to the limit of
annihilation through it, for it and in it.
When upon attainment he is
transported to the locus of recognition, he is not overcome by it, nor uprooted
or intoxicated by it, rather the attribution of love is subsumed in the
attribution of recognition, so he is a recognizing lover. His locus will rise
from this level until what has passed is pulverized in what he what he [now]
sees. He tastes a type of it unlike this [previous] type. He is among those
upon whom love descends after recognition, and love becomes for him a station
after it was a state. This is a very noble station according to the people of
recognition, and to this the people (i.e., the Sufis) allude.43
Ad-Daylami refers only to Sumnun al-Muhibb—the lover44
(d. 298/910)—as one who has reached this station. He is cautious to note
that the transformation of intellect that occurs is not one of bewilderment (dahshah),
but one of realization in witnessing:
Know that the lovers among the people of
nature (tabiah) attain to the loss of reason, bewilderment and
estrangement (tawahhush). This leads from and through these [states] to
destruction and death. But the state of the divine among them is not like that.
The state of their attainment is either to unification (ittihad) with
the Beloved, which is perpetual life, or the station of unity (tawhid),
which is arriving at the Beloved and witnessing [divine] visions (shawahid)
through the Beloved Witness until it is as if He is the reality of everything,
everything is of Him, through Him, for Him and from Him, and He is in
everything, encompassing everything, for everything, through everything, and
from everything. And it is as if he is through nothing, for nothing, from
nothing, of nothing, in nothing, and no thing. So understand all that if you
desire recognition of the states of those who love Him, so that you will not
err in witnessing and will not bear witness to repudiation (juhud), lest
you be counted among those who lie and make false claims.45
Although in the previous discussions love was presented
as the highest degree of spiritual attainment, it was considered only in
relation to the states and stations of the spiritual wayfarer. But when
discussing the teachings of al-Hallaj, ad-Daylami enters into a discussion of
love’s ontological status and cosmogonic function. He introduces al-Hallaj when
discussing the views of Empedocles and Heraclitus, whom he says maintain that
"the love of this world is from the effects of this principial love (al-mahabbah
al-asliyyah) which was the first thing produced from the Real, from which
issued all that is in the worlds—the lower and the upper, the Divine and the
natural."46 He then notes that none of the Sufi Shaykhs claim
this except al-Hallaj, who says:
In what does not cease, the Real is one
in Itself through Itself without "anything mentioned,"47
until It manifests figures, forms, spirits, knowledge and recognition. Then the
address48 came to comprise rule, ruler and ruled (al-mulk
wa'l-malik wa'l-mamluk) and determined the act, the agent and what is acted
upon. So the Real was contemplating Itself through Itself in Its
beginninglessness in totality and not manifest.
All that is known/determined from
knowledge, power, love (mahabbah), ’ishq, wisdom, greatness, beauty,
magnificence and the rest of what It described Itself by—compassion, mercy,
holiness, spirits and the rest of the attributes—were a form in Its Essence
that are Its Essence. Then the Real turned from perfection toward what was in
It from the attribute of ishq; and this attribute was a form in Its
Essence that was Its Essence.49 [Emphasis added].
Al-Hallaj then describes the manner in which the Real
interacted with the attribute of ’ishq in beginninglessness, addressing
it through all the other attributes, and then proceeded to do the same with
each of the other attributes. This, however, is an extremely allusive
discussion from which few definite philosophical or metaphysical positions can
be derived. The most important aspect of the discussion is what is revealed in
the passage above, that ’ishq is for al-Hallaj an attribute that
pertains to God’s Essence. As such, "In its essence ’ishq has
attributes that comprise many realities (ma’anz)."50
Like all the other qualities and attributes of the Essence it has an important
cosmogonic function in that it is through addressing the attributes pertaining
to the Essence that the Real begins to engender the created order. Nonetheless,
al-Hallaj attributes a centrality to ’ishq that is far beyond that of
any other attribute:
‘Ishq is
a fire, the light of a first fire.51 In beginningless- ness it was
colored by every color and appearing in every attribute. Its essence flamed
through its [own] essence, and its attributes sparkled through its [own]
attributes. It is [fully] verified, crossing not but from beginninglessness to
endlessness. Its source is He-ness, and it is completely beyond I-ness. The
non-manifest of what is manifest from its essence is the reality of existence;
and the manifest of what is not manifest from its attributes is the form that
is complete through concealment that proclaims universality through completion.52
As ad-Daylami observes, "The difference between him
and the claim of the first philosophers is that the first philosophers make
love a thing produced (mubda1), and he makes it something
pertaining to the [Divine] Essence."53 This move is of great
importance for identifying sources from which Ahmad al-Ghazali and the later
Sufi tradition may have drawn, or figures by whom he may have been influenced.
There is nothing that resembles this position in Sufi literature until the
treatment of love in writings attributed to 'Abdallah Ansari, and no definite
record of such teachings regarding ‘ishq until the composition of the Sawanih
two centuries after the death of al-Hallaj. Indeed, ad-Daylami claims that
al-Hallaj is unique among Sufi shaykhs in maintaining this position:
Al-Husayn b. Mansur [al-Hallaj] is
separate from the rest of the Shaykhs in this claim. He is separate in that he
indicated that love is an attribute among the attributes of the Essence in all
respects and wherever it is manifest. As for Shaykhs other than him, they
have indicated the unification (ittihad) of the lover and the Beloved in
a state where love attains to the annihilation of the whole of the lover in the
Beloved, without claiming that the Divine nature (lahut) [is incarnated
in] the human nature (nasut) [Emphasis added].54
Other than al-Hallaj, ad-Daylami does not provide enough
information to transmit the teachings on love from any individual except
himself. We can, however, infer that his own position is quite close to that of
his spiritual master Ibn al-Khafif. Ad-Daylami’s own position is that love (mahabbah)
is a Divine Attribute that pertains to Unity (ahadiyyah)—a term that
usually designates a transcendent unity that excludes multiplicity and is
considered by some to represent a level of Divinity that is directly below the
Divine Essence (adh-dhat al-ilahiyyah). Ad-Daylami writes,
As for the root of mahabbah, it
is that God does not cease to be qualified by love, and it is an attribute
abiding with Him. In what does not cease, He is looking at Himself to Himself
through Himself, just as He is finding Himself for Himself through Himself.
Likewise, He loved Himself through Himself for Himself. Here, the lover, the
Beloved and love are one thing with no division in it, because it is the
reality of Unity (ayn al-ahadiyyah) and there is not a thing and a thing
in Unity (i.e., there is no duality).55
From ad-Daylami’s perspective, God manifests the
attributes that make up creation from His own Attributes, and love is the first
of these attributes. For ad-Daylami, love is an attribute pertaining to the
Essence (adh-dhat), but it is also manifest in God’s actions. According
to him the attributes pertaining to the Divine Essence and the Divine Names
cannot be known in and of themselves, but they can be known insofar as they are
manifest by and in the Divine Acts.56 He maintains that insofar as
love is the first of the Divine Attributes to issue from beginninglessness into
temporality (hadath), "it was divided into three: lover, beloved
and love, and they are from a single source," and "they are manifest
in every intelligible, imagined and sensed thing."57 From this
perspective, love is an attribute that can be said to pertain to the Divine
Essence and be manifest in Divine Actions and in all of the relationships
between created things. For both al-Hallaj and ad-Daylami, love is an attribute
pertaining to the Divine Essence, and the manifestations of love are connected
to their root in this Essence though distinct from it. Their fundamental
position is the same, but ad-Daylami appears to be somewhat more cautious in
drawing a distinction between love as it pertains to the Divine Essence without
division and the manifestations of love in creation. For al-Hallaj, ‘ishq
pertains directly to the Essence "wherever it (‘ishq) is
manifest." Indeed, many famous verses of al-Hallaj’s poetry can be read as
allusions to this same position:
I am the one who yearns, and the one who
yearns is I. We are two spirits in one body.
Since the time we made the pact of
yearning, Examples have been struck for people through us.
So if you see me . . . you see Him, And
if you see Him, you see us.58
And,
I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart.
I said who are you, He said you.
My inmost being points to You, until I
cease to be and You remain.
You are my life and the depth of my heart;
Wherever I am, there you are.59
Other Sufis of the Early
Middle Period
To further examine teachings on love, sayings from many
Sufis, such as Abu’l-Husayn an-Nuri (d. 295/908), Rabi’ah al-Adawiyyah,
Dhu’n-Nun al-Misri, Abu Yazid al-Bistami (d. 261/875), and Abu Bakr ash-Shibli
could be cited, for as demonstrated by ad-Daylami, love was a central theme of
early Sufi discourse. But as these sayings have been transmitted through a
select group of texts that were readily available to Ahmad al-Ghazali and his
peers, my main focus will be upon the presentation of love in the central texts
of early Sufism. Texts such as al-Qushayri’s Risalah, as-Sarraj’s Kitab
al-Luma, al-Kalabadhi’s (d. 380/990 or 385/395) Kitab at-TMarruf,
and Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami’s many contributions can be seen as calculated
arguments for the orthodoxy of Sufism and of certain mystical teachings.
Proponents of Sufism were subject to many challenges from political and
religious authorities.60 Thus the rise of Sufi handbooks served to answer
these challenges, allay the concerns of other scholars, and present an
"orthodox" image of Sufism.
It is important to bear the opposition to some Sufi
ideas in mind when examining theories of love, for as ad-Daylami revealed, love
was a topic of much debate. The censure of discussions on love to which
ad-Daylami alludes may have in some way curtailed discussions of love,
especially when employing the term ishq, such that those who represented
an attitude toward love like that of al-Hallaj were not sanctioned in the
central textual tradition, though they may have persisted in an oral tradition
and in texts that are no longer extant, such as the aforementioned treatises
attributed to al-Junayd and Ibn al-Khafif. The central texts of Sufism in the
early middle period provide many allusions to teachings on ishq that are
not well preserved. The evidence of a continuing oral tradition does not
resurface in the extant textual tradition until the beginning of the sixth
Islamic century, when it found form in the writings of Ahmad al-Ghazali and his
younger contemporaries, Sam’anl and Maybudi. Identifying all of the individuals
who may have been proponents of these nuanced teachings regarding ishq
and the possible reasons for suppressing them is difficult. The following
discussion is intended only to demonstrate that although the understanding of
love in the textual tradition of early Sufism is quite different from that of
the Persian Sufi love tradition, which began in the early 6th/12th century, it
nonetheless alludes to the presence of ideas similar to those that arose in
later centuries.
In three central handbooks of Sufism written in Arabic
that precede al-Ghazali—as-Sarraj's Kitab al-Luma, al-Kalabadhi's Kitab
at-Taarruf, and al-Qushayri's Risalah—there is no positive
discussion of ishq, only of mahabbah. Each author devotes one
chapter to mahabbah, that of al-Qushayri being the most extensive, while
that of as-Sarraj, in keeping with the character of the book, is the most
systematic. The remainder of this chapter will examine these texts and those of
Abu Talib al-Makki (d. 386/996), Ali b. ‘Uthman al-Hujwiri (d. 465/1073 or
469/1077), Abdallah Ansari, and Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, in chronological order,
as these are the texts prior to Ahmad al-Ghazali that most shaped the Sufi
tradition for generations to come.
As-Sarraj places mahabbah as the third state (hal)
among eleven. Within this state he recognizes three levels of mahabbah:
the first is that of the general public (mahabbat al-awamm), wherein one
loves the Beloved through praise. It is the "devotion of the hearts
praising the Beloved, preferring to follow Him and to be in agreement with
Him."61 The second level is the love of "the
truthful" (as-sadiqun) and "the verifiers" (al-muhaqqiqun).
It is "born of considering God's richness, magnanimity, greatness,
knowledge and power." As-Sarraj says this is the stage characterized by
an-Nuri as "the rending of covers and the uncovering of secrets."62
At this stage the desires, the attributes, and the needs of the lover are
eradicated in the face of the Beloved. The third level of love is that of
"the sincere" (as-siddiqun) and the recognizers (al-arifun).
It is "born from considering their recognition of the eternity (qadim)
of the love of God without causes. Likewise, nothing causes Him to love
them."63 That is to say that they recognize that God's love is
eternal and does not arise because of an intermediary cause such as one's good
deeds. Regarding this state, as-Sarraj quotes Dhu'n-Nun al-Misri: "The
pure love (hubb) of God, in which there is no turbidity is when love (mahabbah)
falls from the heart and the limbs until there is no mahabbah and all
things are through God and to God—that is the one who loves God."64
At this level, one ceases to be a lover through oneself; for, as al-Junayd is
reported to have said:
[It is] when the qualities of the
Beloved come as a replacement for the qualities of the lover. This is in accord
with the meaning of His saying, ". . . until I love him; for when
I love him, I am his eye with which he
sees, his hearing with which he hears, and his hand with which he
strikes."65
These statements from Dhu’n-Nun and al-Junayd could be
seen as allusions to the final station of love, already discussed by
ad-Daylami, which is beyond annihilation and wherein recognition is attained.
But in his discussion of love, as-Sarraj does not draw out any such
implications in the words of those whom he cites. In fact, no teachings from
any single figure are cited extensively enough to develop a full theory of
love.
To understand the place of love among other states and
stations, one must view it in the full context of as-Sarraj’s treatment. For
as-Sarraj, a state is vaguely defined as "the station of a servant before
God, regarding what is fixed in him by way of acts of worship, acts of
[spiritual] endeavor, [spiritual] exercises and devotion to God."66 The
seven stations he lists are repentance, scrupulousness, asceticism, poverty,
patience, trust in God, and contentment, each of which is a necessary condition
for the following station. Unlike stations, states do not come through struggle
and devotion; rather, "The state is an occurrence (nazilah) that
descends into the hearts, yet does not remain."67 Nonetheless,
for as-Sarraj, states can be above stations, for "contentment is the last
station after which follow the states of those who have hearts, perusing those
things unseen, refining the secrets for the purity of remembrances and the
realities of states."68 As with stations, each state must be
followed by the subsequent state. The states treated by as-Sarraj are
watchfulness, nearness, love, fear, hope, desire, intimacy, serenity,
witnessing, and certainty. Love is thus the state that follows nearness and
must be followed by fear. As the remainder of Kitab al-Luma deals with
other issues, not returning to an ascending scheme, it appears that as-Sarraj
presents a seventeen-step path beginning with repentance and ending with
certainty, in which love is the tenth degree. The place of love is thus one
among other degrees of spiritual wayfaring. It is nowhere near the expression
of love found in al-Hallaj and ad-Daylami, nor the Sawanih, where love
is the alpha and omega of existence and of wayfaring. Nonetheless, the sayings
attributed to Dhu’n-Nun al-Misri and al-Junayd in which all things are
"through God and to God" allude to teachings on love in which love
encompasses all things.
Abu Talib
al-Makki
Another important text for early
Sufi teachings is the famous Qut al-qulub fi muamalat al-mahbub wa-wasf
tariq al-murid ila maqam at-tawhid (The Nourishment of Hearts Regarding Acts towards the Beloved and
the Description of the Path of the Seeker to the Station of Unity) by an
erstwhile student of al-Junayd and follower of the Salimiyyah Sufi tradition,
Abu Talib Muhammad b. All al-Makki.69 Like Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's Revival
of the Religious Sciences, some parts of which are modeled upon it,70
Qut al-qulub employs extensive citations from Quran and Hadith to
establish the orthodoxy of its content. As A.J. Arberry observes, "The
pattern of the Qut al-qulub is a little reminiscent of the standard manuals of
religious jurisprudence, with its minute discussion of the ritual practices of
Islam which are, however, treated from the mystical standpoint."71
Compared to the texts of al-Balkhi, as-Sarraj, and especially ad-Daylaml, it is
the jurisprudential nature of this treatise that prevails, it being focused
more on the practical (amali) aspects of the spiritual path than on the
intellectual (aqli) ones.72
The intellectual discussions include al-Makkr's
treatment of love. In the thirty-second book, he presents love as the ninth and
last station (maqam) among the stations of certainty. The stations, in
ascending order, are tawbah (repentance), sabr (patience), shukr
(thankfulness), raja1 (hope), khawf (fear), zuhd
(asceticism), tawakkul (trust), rida (contentment), and mahabbah
(love). But despite the exalted position attributed to love, there is no aspect
of al-Makkr's discussion that approaches the depth of those treatments provided
by al-Hallaj and ad-Daylami, let alone those of Ahmad al-Ghazali and the later
Sufi tradition.
Al-Makki takes a position regarding love alluded to in
some parts of ad-Daylami's Atf al-alif, equating the state of loving God
with that of having faith in God: "Everyone who has faith in God loves
God. But his love is according to his faith, the unveiling of witnessing Him
and the self-disclosure of the Beloved,"73 for as God says, Those
who have faith are more intense in love for God (Quran 2:165). Here love
corresponds to the faculty of the heart (qalb), which according to
al-Makki has both an inner cavity and an outer cavity. The outer cavity is the
locus of Islam, which corresponds to the termfu}ad. The inner
cavity is the source of the outer cavity, the heart itself (al-qalb),
which is the locus of faith. Al-Makki maintains that many love God with part of
the heart, while others love Him with the entire heart. When one loves with the
entire heart, faith has entered the inner region of the heart (batin al-qalb):
"He prefers God to all his caprices (ahwa1), and the one
who loves Him predominates over the caprice of the servant until the love of
God becomes what the servant loves in everything. Then he is a true lover of
God."74 At its highest level, this love is the completion of tawhid:
"When tawhid is complete, love is complete."75
Although al-Makki sees love as the highest of all
stations and sees pure love as the fullness of faith and the completion of tawhid,
his treatment of love is still far removed from that of Ahmad al-Ghazali and
the later Sufi love tradition. In terms of al-Ghazali’s presentation,
al-Makki’s remains on the level of the lover (ashiq) who yearns for the
beloved (mashuq), for in every phase of al-Makki’s description there
remains a duality between the lover and the beloved. Such a difference
is enough to make it apparent that this concept of love most likely had no
influence on Ahmad al-Ghazali. While Ahmad al-Ghazali presents the whole path
as degrees of love, like ad-Daylami, and the whole of creation as degrees of
love, like al-Hallaj, al-Makki presents the path as degrees and stations of
certainty (yaqin), love being the foremost among these stages.
al-Kalabadhi—Kitab
at-Ta'arruf
Like al-Makki’s Qut al-qulub, Abu Bakr b.
Muhammad al-Kalabadhi’s Kitab at-Taarruf li madhhab ahl at-tasawwuf (The
Knowledge of the Sufis) is designed to defend the orthodoxy of Sufism. As A.J.
Arberry observes, al-Kalabadhi intended "to bridge the chasm between
orthodox theology and Sufism which the execution of al-Hallaj had greatly
widened; and this explains why, in his chapters treating doctrinal beliefs of
the Sufis, he quotes verbally from the creed al-fiqh al-akbar II, falsely
ascribed to Abu Hanifa."76 In doing so he gives the impression
that most major Sufi figures were of the same intellectual disposition as Abu
Hanifah and of Ashari kalam in general.77 As Alexander Knysh
observes, this sets al-Kalabadhi apart from as-Sulami and al-Qushayri, who were
staunch adherents of a Shafii/Ashari theological position.78 This
may result from the fact that al-Kalabadhi was centered in Bukharah, further
east than any of the other authors examined here. Despite being far from what
came to be the main line of Sufi traditions in Baghdad and Khurasan, he
demonstrates extensive knowledge of both traditions and draws most of his
citations from them.79 He thus falls within the same tradition as
as-Sarraj and al-Qushayri, though his treatise is more reliant on al-Hallaj
who, however, remains anonymous throughout. Despite this emphasis on the
sayings attributed to al-Hallaj, there is nothing even remotely akin to the
teachings on ishq attributed to him by ad-Daylami.
Al-Kalabadhi’s treatment of mahabbah is the least
extensive and most ambiguous of those examined here; only nine sayings and
three short poems are cited. Unlike as-Sarraj, he does not make a clear
distinction between states and stations. The spiritual qualities listed by
al-Kalabadhi are not given a particular hierarchical relation as they are in
the Kitab al-Luma. The chapter on love comes after "Union" (wisal)
and before "Disengaging and Isolation" but does not seem to have any
particular relation to either. It is thus difficult to define the relationship
between love and the other spiritual degrees of which al-Kalabadhi writes. He
discusses states and stations in the thirty-first chapter, "The Sciences
of the Sufis, the Sciences of States." In a gloss on the saying of another
Sufi, he writes that the Sufi is one who "expresses his station and
articulates the knowledge of his state."80 From this statement
it appears that the state and station are not viewed by al-Kalabadhi as
separate stages or categories. The most that he says of them is that "for
every station there is a science and for every state there is an
allusion."81 It would thus appear that for al-Kalabadhi love is
both a state and a station to which corresponds a certain knowledge and about
which certain allusions can be given. Among the few citations on love that
al-Kalabadhi transmits there are allusions to views of love as a delight and as
an inclination; al- Junayd states, "love is the inclination of the
heart," and Sa'id b. Yazid Abu 'Abdallah an-Nibaji82 states,
"Love is a delight in the created and a being consumed in the Creator."
Al-Kalabadhi explains, "The meaning of consumption is that no share
remains for you, there is no cause for your love, and you do not abide through
a cause."83 Delight and inclination later become central to the
teachings of love provided by Abu Hamid al-Ghazali in the Revival of the
Religious Sciences. Nonetheless, al-Kalabadhi's treatment of love has had
little influence on the later Sufi tradition. It is, however, significant to
note that even though he cites many sayings of al-Hallaj without providing
attribution, he does not provide sayings that concur with the discussion of
love that ad-Daylami attributes to al-Hallaj.
The first Persian treatise on Sufism is a lengthy
commentary on al-Kalabadhi's Kitab at-Taarruf, Sharh-i Taarruf li madhhab-i
tasawwuf (Commentary on the Knowledge of the Sufis) by Isma'il b. Muhammad
al-Mustamli (d. 434/1042-3). Whereas al-Kalabadhi's text is a mere 150 pages
and offers little commentary, al-Mustamli's comes to 1,800 pages in the modern
printed edition and offers extensive discussions regarding various aspects of
Sufism. For al-Kalabadhi's chapter on love, al-Mustamli provides a lengthy
introduction that offers key distinctions between how love is understood by the
theologians— or "People of Principles," as al-Mustamli calls them—and
the Sufis, or "People of Recognition (irfan)." After
discussing the degrees that some ascribe to love between humans, with ishq
as the highest degree of love, he returns to a discussion of "love between
the Real and the servant." Here he states, "The People of Principles
maintain that the love of the Real for the servant is a desire for the good,
and that the love of the servant for the Real is obedience."84
He then presents them as juxtaposing Divine enmity with Divine love, the former
being the means by which people receive bad for what they have done and latter
being the means by which they receive good. In contrast, for the People of
Recognition, "it is permissible for the servant to be empty of obedience, yet
at the same time not be empty of love, for being empty of love is unbelief.
Thus obedience is not love, but obedience is the influence of love."
Like al-Kalabadhi's discussion, al-Mustamli's discussion
of love had little discernible influence after him. Nonetheless, he offers an
important discussion that may indicate why certain aspects of the discussion of
love remain elusive in the textual tradition:
No one who has described love has
reported about love itself. Rather, they talk about its attributes, its
influences, and the lover's acts. This is because the one who describes is one
of two: either he is a lover or he is not. If he is not a lover, how will he
describe something he has not seen? And if he is a lover, he will be so
preoccupied with love's burning that he will not have an opportunity to
describe it. And if he does, though those who hear have no trace of this
burning, his description will not be understood. There is no use in describing
it. This is why all tongues have been silent regarding love [itself]. They
spoke of its influences, attributes, and acts. Someone who is not aware of love
does not know what [those who describe it] are talking about, and someone who
is under its influence [already] sees what the description describes.85
In the works of al-Makki, as-Sarraj, and al-Kalabadhi,
the only word used for love is mahabbah, but with al-Qushayri's Risalah
and al-Hujwlrl's Kashf al-Mahjub the word ishq is re-introduced
into the discussion of love, albeit in a negative fashion. The most extensive
treatment of love among the three classical Arabic Sufi handbooks is that
provided by al-Qushayri, who makes a clear distinction between states and
stations akin to that of as-Sarraj yet does not list states as degrees after stations.
Rather, he provides a list of forty-nine states and stations, beginning with
repentance (tawbah) and ending with audition (sama). Among these,
love is the forty-sixth subject treated, immediately preceded by
"recognition of God" and followed only by longing (shawq),
preserving the hearts of Shaykhs, and samaj though this does not appear
to be a hierarchical arrangement.
Al-Qushayri is most inclined to the perspective that
sees love as an expression of God’s desire to draw His servant near to Him. But
it is man’s love for God that dominates this chapter. It is described as both
inclination to God and destruction (istihlak) in God, but for
al-Qushayri, "It is better to describe the lover as being destroyed in the
Beloved than as inclining [to Him]."86 As with most sections of
the Risalah, the bulk of what is said about love has no specific
orientation. Al-Qushayri indicates that all the statements herein transmitted
are provisional, for "love is not described through a description. It is
not defined by anything more clearly [than love], nor by anything closer to
understanding than love."87 In some citations, love is
described as a state that obliterates all that is other. Al-Junayd states,
"It is the entering of the attributes of the Beloved in place of the
attributes of the lover, and completely forgetting the attributes of oneself
and sensing through them." By this, explains al-Qushayri, "he alluded
to the overpowering of the remembrance of the Beloved until nothing
predominates over the heart of the lover other than the remembrance of the
attributes of the Beloved."88 This theme is also taken up by
Muhammad b. Sa’id Abu ’Abdillah al-Qurashi: "The reality of love is that
you give all of yourself to whom you love, so that nothing from you remains for
you."89 And Abu Bakr ash-Shibli states, "Love is called
love because it erases (yamhu) what is other than the Beloved."90
Other sayings express a less extreme degree of love.
Muhammad b. ’Ali al-Kattani (d. 322/934)91 is quoted as saying,
"Love is preference for the Beloved."92 Abu Ya’qub Yusuf
b. Hamadhan as-Susi93 is reported to have said, "The reality of
love is that the servant forgets his share from God and forgets what he needs
from Him."94 Muhammad b. Fadl (d. 319/931) says, "Love is
the falling away of all love from the heart, save the love of the Beloved (al-habib)."95
In a saying that is echoed by many Sufis: "It is said, ‘Love is a fire in
the heart that burns all that is other than what the Beloved desires (murad
al-mahbub).'"96 Love is also presented as the
counterbalance of fear, a position in which one most often finds hope (raja1)
in Sufi literature: "Whoever is given something of love and is not given
something of fear like it is mistaken."97 Perhaps the closest
any of these sayings comes to expressing the teachings of love attributed to
al-Hallaj and found in the later Sufi tradition is from a figure in Ahmad
al-Ghazali's spiritual heritage, Sari as-Saqati (d. 253/867), the uncle and
erstwhile teacher of al-Junayd: "Love between two is not pure until one
says to the other ‘O I'" (ya ana)9
Al-Qushayri relates a story in which a group of shaykhs
are discussing love in Mecca and al-Junayd was asked to speak:
His eyes wept then he said, "A
servant going from his self attached to the remembrance of his Lord,
undertaking to observe His rights, looking at Him with his heart—the fires of
His He-ness (huwiyyatihi) burn his heart, and the purity of his drink is
from the cup of His affection, and the Magnificent (al-Jabbar) is
unveiled for him from the curtains of His unseen realities. So if he talks it
is through God, if he pronounces it is from God, if he moves it is through the
command of God, and if he rests it is with God. So he is through God, to God,
and with God.99
Though these citations offer many different perspectives
on love, and sayings such as those attributed to Sari as-Saqati and al-Junayd
may be taken as allusion to the fullness of love expressed by al-Hallaj and
later in the Persian Sufi tradition, all of this offers little guidance in
finding a possible source for Ahmad al-Ghazali's teachings on love. Such
sayings appear to confirm ad-Daylaml's claim that al-Hallaj is unique among
Sufi Shaykhs in his view of ‘ishq as an attribute of the Divine Essence.
Nonetheless, ar-Risalah al-Qushayriyyah is of central importance for
examining the history of the term ‘ishq. Al-Qushayri writes that he
heard his Shaykh Abu Ali ad-Daqqaq say:
‘Ishq is
exceeding the limit in love (mahabbah), and the Real is not described as
transgressing the limit, so He is not described by ‘ishq. If all the
loves of mankind were joined together in one person, that would not reach the
measure [of love] due to God. So let it not be said that a servant has
transgressed the limit in the love of God. The Real is not described as if He
loves (ya‘shaqu), nor the servant in relation to God [as if he loves].
So ‘ishq is negated and there is no way to describe the Real by
it—neither from the Real toward the servant, nor from the servant toward the
Real.100
This passage demonstrates that although few sayings
regarding ‘ishq are preserved from the early Sufi communities, there
were most likely some who held that ishq is distinct from mahabbah
and that it is permissible to say that human beings can have hshq for
God and that God has ishq for human beings. Otherwise there would be no
reason for Abu Ali ad-Daqqaq to refute such positions. Together, the three
positions ad-Daqqaq refutes provide three of the main ingredients for the
teachings on hshq expressed by al-Hallaj and, in a slightly different
form, in the later love tradition: God, the Real, can be described by ‘ishq;
humans have ishq for God; God has ishq for humans. Though it is
difficult, if not impossible, to know who, other than al-Hallaj, may have
advocated such a position, this short refutation of the term ishq
indicates the presence of an oral tradition that has not been fully preserved.
cAli b. ‘Uthman
al-Hujwiri’s (d. 465/1073 or 469/1077)101 Kashf al-Mahjub
(The Unveiling of the Veiled) is the first Sufi handbook written in Persian.102
Unlike al-Qushayri, al-Kalabadhi, and as-Sarraj, al-Hujwiri tends to be more
open about expressing his own positions. His treatment of love is no exception.
For al-Hujwiri, love (mahabbah) is of two kinds: (1) the love of the
like for the like, as between a man and a woman, and (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; for example, hearing without speech or
seeing without eye,"103 the latter being the love of God. Those
who love God are further divided into two kinds: (1) those who love the
Benefactor due to His beneficence, and (2) "those who are so enraptured by
love that they reckon all favors as a veil." For al-Hujwiri, "The
latter way is the more exalted of the two."104
Though al-Hujwiri’s own opinion regarding love falls
short of the all-encompassing nature of love found in the later Persian
tradition, he mentions Shaykh Sumnun al-Muhibb, whom ad-Daylami had regarded as
one of the few to have reached the fullness of love as a "recognizing
lover." In a passage that is important for understanding the veiled nature
of Sufi language, Hujwiri reports of Sumnun:
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 under 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" (mahabbah)
is current and well known, and they wish the doctrine of Divine love to remain
hidden, instead of calling it love they gave it the name "purity" (safwat),105
and the lover they call "Sufi"; or they use "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" (faqir).106
Whereas in Qut al-qulub al-Makki expressed the
view that love is the highest station (maqam), here for the first time
we find an account that concurs with ad-Daylami’s belief that love comprises
all the states and stations of the spiritual path. But there is still no
expression of the supreme all-encompassing love alluded to by al-Hallaj and
ad-Daylami and found in the later Persian tradition. Nonetheless, as with the
passage from ad-Daqqaq in the Risalah of al-Qushayri, this alludes to
another of the key ingredients in Ahmad al-Ghazali’s view of love. It is
significant that al-Hujwiri tells us that the Shaykhs "wish the doctrine
of Divine Love to remain hidden." This indicates that none of the texts of
early Sufism have fully expressed the understanding of love as it existed among
certain components of the early Sufi community, thus alluding, as did
ad-Daqqaq, to an oral tradition that has not been fully preserved in the
written tradition.
Something similar to the view attributed to Sumnun
al-Muhibb is expressed in al-Hujwiri’s analysis of a passage attributed to
al-Qushayri:
Master Abu’l-Qasim Qushayri says,
"Love is the effacement of the lover as regards his attributes and the
affirmation of the Beloved as regards His Essence. Love is that the lover
negate all of his attributes in the reality of seeking the Beloved in the
affirmation of the Essence of the Real." That is, since the Beloved is
subsistent (baqi) and the lover is annihilated (fani), 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 the Beloved.107
Like al-Qushayri, al-HujwIrl provides an extensive
debate regarding the use of the term ‘ishq. Here al-HujwM makes explicit
the controversy that was implicit with Abu All ad-Daqqaq in al-Qushayri's Risalah:
Concerning ‘ishq the Shaykhs say
many things. A contingent among this group holds that ‘ishq for the Real
is permissible, but that it is not permissible to hold that there is ‘ishq from
the Real. They say that ‘ishq is the attribute of one debarred from his
beloved, man is debarred from God, but God is not debarred from man. It is
therefore permissible to say that man has ‘ishq for Him, but from Him to
man it is not permissible.108
But he also mentions the view expressed by ad-Daqqaq:
that since ‘ishq implies a passing beyond limits, it cannot apply to
man’s love of God, either. A later group maintains that ‘ishq refers to
love of the Divine Essence, but that since the Essence cannot be realized, ‘ishq
is not an appropriate term: “They also say that ‘ishq only arises
through observing form and that mahabbah may arise through hearing, so
that vision of the Real cannot arise since nobody can see Him in the
world."109 So according to this group no one may have ‘ishq
for God, since it pertains to the Essence, whereas mahabbah pertains to
the attributes and actions that can be perceived in this world.
This debate regarding the use of the two terms reveals
that there must have been other groups or individuals maintaining both that man
has ‘ishq for God not only in his attributes but also in His Essence and
that God has ‘ishq for man. Otherwise, al-Hujwuri would not feel the
need to refute these positions. What is important here is not so much the
difference in technical terminology but the debate that appears to underlie the
use of these terms. This is not simply a philological debate. It is a
philosophical and epistemological debate regarding the human being's ability to
witness the Divine and know the Divine Essence. Shades of this debate were seen
in ad-Daylaml's presentation of al-Hallaj's position that ‘ishq is an
attribute pertaining to the Divine Essence. As will be seen, Shaykh Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, and many others in the later Persian
Sufi tradition clearly believe that one can realize the Divine Essence, but
that such knowledge in no way pertains to the senses or to the mental
faculties; rather, it is achieved through basirah, insight, and is
realized within the secret core, beyond the heart and the spirit. As Ahmad
al-Ghazali writes at the end of the Sawanih, "The eyes of the
intellect have been blocked from perceiving the quiddity and reality of the
spirit, and the spirit is the shell of love. So since knowledge has no way to
the shell, how can it have a path to the jewel concealed within the
shell?"110 In his sessions such insight is referred to as
recognition (ma‘rifah). He believes the ability to grasp this
"jewel" with the human mind was beyond even the Prophet Muhammad:
"Whenever the Messenger of God was carried to the ocean of knowledge it
would flow forth, but when he was cast into the ocean of recognition he said,
‘I do not know; I only worship (la adri innama abudu).'"111
Unlike the texts of al-Makki, as-Sarraj, al-Kalabadhi,
and al-Qushayri, with al-Hujwlrl's treatment of love, the reader is cast into
the center of an intense debate, not just about the use of particular technical
terms, but about the nature of man's knowledge of God, the extent to which the
spiritual aspirant can travel, and how much of these teachings should be
revealed. Ahmad al-Ghazali and others in the Persian school of love firmly
maintain that one can "perceive"—or to put it in their terms,
"taste"—the Divine Essence, which for them is ‘ishq itself,
and that the spiritual aspirant can travel completely beyond the duality of
lover and Beloved. As such, his Sawanih marks an important juncture in
the Sufi tradition where many of these teachings on the metaphysics of love are
for the first time fully expressed. The allusions to such positions by
al-Qushayri and al-Hujwiri indicate that the Sawanih marks a point where
particular oral teachings become a part of the written tradition, though in a
form largely inaccessible to one who is not steeped in the language of Sufism.
That such teachings existed but were not fully recorded is further illustrated
by the fact that many of Ahmad al-Ghazali's teachings on love are alluded to
but not fully stated in his brother's treatment of love in the Revival.
‘Abdullah
Ansari
Among the Sufis discussed here, the
teachings of Ansari are perhaps the most difficult to address. Many of the
sayings attributed to him are difficult to authenticate, especially those
preserved in Maybudi's Kashf al-asrar, where Ansari is frequently cited
as Pir-i Tariqat, "The Master of the Paths," and those in his Munajat,
or "Intimate Discourses," which appear to have been collected by his
disciples at a later time.112 In addition, his Tabaqat
as-Sufiyyah (Generations of the Sufis) was compiled posthumously from the
notes of many students.113 Ansari did, however, compose, or oversee
the composition of, several works in Arabic and
Persian. Among these is his Treatise on Love (Mahabbat Namah), an
allusive and aphoristic text that appears to be the first Persian treatise to
be written on love. The place of love is also addressed in various ways in his
four texts on the Sufi path: The Hundred Fields (Sad Madyan), The Way
Stations of the Travelers (Manazil al-sa’irln), The Flaws of the Stages
(filal al-maqamat), and Sayings and Advice (Maqulat-o andarzha). In The
Way Stations of the Travelers, love is presented as the 61st way station:
Love is the mark of the Tribe, the title
of the path (tariqah), and the seat of the relationship [with God]. It
has three degrees: The first degree is a love that cuts of disquieting
thoughts, makes service enjoyable, and offers solace in affliction. This love
grows up from examining favors, becomes fixed by following the Sunnah, and
grows into responding with poverty. The second degree is a love that incites
preferring the Real to all else, induces dhikr on the tongue, and
attaches the heart to witnessing Him. This is a love that becomes manifest from
examining the attributes [of God], gazing upon the signs [of God], and
undergoing the discipline of the stations. The third degree is a dazzling love
that cuts off expression, makes allusions subtle, and does not attain
description. Such love is the axis of this affair, and all loves beneath it are
called by tongues, claimed by creatures, and declared obligatory by rational
faculties.114
When viewed in relation to the other way stations, it
appears that love occupies one of the way stations along the spiritual path,
but not the highest. Regarding the final fields or stations of the path, Ansari
states, “Togetherness is the final end of the stations of the wayfarers, the
shore of tawhid's ocean."115 But in his Treatise on
Love, he maintains that love is the mark of togetherness: "The reality
of togetherness is the mark of unification, and unification is the mark of
love."116 In the final paragraph of The Hundred Fields,
Ansari also states, "These hundred fields are all drowned in the field of
love. The one hundred first field is love: He loves them, and they love Him (5:54).
Say, If you love God (3:31). Love is three stations: the first is
truthfulness; the middle is drunkenness, and the last is nonbeing."117
Ansari also alludes to love itself being beyond the duality of lover and
beloved when he states, "How then can the lover and the beloved be one?
When created nature departs, the Real is suited for oneness."118 From
these passages, it would appear that Ansari shares the vision of love presented
in the Sawanih, wherein the whole of the Sufi path is viewed as
different degrees and shades of love, although it is not stated as directly and
emphatically.
Although Ahmad al-Ghazali employs the terms hubb/mahabbah
and ‘ishq interchangeably, Ansari, like Abu Hamid al-Ghazali in the Revival,
distinguishes between the two and places ‘ishq above or beyond hubb/mahabbah:
‘Ishq is
a burning fire and an ocean without shore. It is the spirit and the spirit of
the spirit. It is story without end and pain without remedy. The intellect is
bewildered in its perception, the heart unable to grasp it. It makes the hidden
apparent and the apparent hidden. It is the ease of the spirit and the outset
of openings. Although the spirit is the life of bodies, ‘ishq is the
life of the heart. When man is silent, ‘ishq tears his heart to pieces
and purifies it of everything but itself. When he shouts out, it turns him
upside down and gives news of his story to city and lane.
‘Ishq
is both fire and water, both darkness and sun. It is not pain, but a bringer of
pain, not affliction but a bringer of affliction. Just as it causes life, so
too it causes death. Just as it is the substance of ease, so too it is the
means of blights. Love (mahabbah) burns the lover, but not the beloved. ‘Ishq
burns both seeker and sought.119
In The Hundred Fields and his Treatise on
Love, Ansari presents love as a reality in which the lover becomes entirely
immersed, going beyond the duality of lover and beloved. In this respect, his
understanding of the Sufi path can be seen as the most important precursor to
the vision of love expressed in the Sawanih and likely had some influence
on Ahmad al-Ghazali. He is not, however, as clear in the expression of an
understanding of love as the origin and reality of all things, though this
understanding of love does appear to undergird his view of reality.
Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali
Love for God is the ultimate aim among the
stations and the highest summit among the degrees, for there is no station
beyond the perception (idrak) of love except that it is a fruit from
among its fruits and a consequence of its effects, such as longing (shawq),
intimacy (uns), contentment (rida) and their sisters. And there
is no station before love, except that it is a prelude to it, such as
repentance (tawbah), forbearance (sabr), asceticism (zuhd)
and the like.120
As with al-Hujwiri and al-Qushayri, there is an allusion
to an ongoing debate regarding the nature of love, but here the debate centers
on the term mahabbah. Al-Ghazali states that some scholars claim love is
impossible except between the like and the like, and comments, "When they
deny love, they deny intimacy, desire, the delight of intimate discourse [with
God] (munajat), and all the other effects and consequences of love. The
veil must be lifted from this matter."121 He then divides his
treatment into seventeen clarifications (bayyinat), most of which center
on the nature of man’s love for God, and some of which treat God’s love for
man, which is in truth the source of man’s love for God. Here I will first
examine the discussion of man’s love for God that Imam Abu Hamid divides into
five types. This study will begin by examining the nature of ishq that
he, like Ansari, places beyond mahabbah and conclude by examining his
treatment of God’s love for human beings.
While Abu Hamid al-Ghazali begins this book with the
treatment of the foundation of love in the Quran and the Hadith, it is
clear that his discussion of love, as with that of the Sufi tradition preceding
him, is not derived directly from these sources. The discussions of love in
these sources always emphasize worship (ibadah), but the attitude of the
proponent of love is, as expressed by Yahya b. Mu’adh ar-Razi (d. 258/872),
"[That] the weight of a single grain of love is more beloved to me than
worshipping seventy years without love."122
In the first clarification, Abu Hamid sets the tone for
a discussion that focuses little on worship and much on realizing a direct
relationship with God: "Know that what is sought from this section is not
unveiled except through recognition (madifah) of love itself, then
recognition of its conditions and causes (asbab), then after that
examination (nazar) of the verification of its reality (mana) in
the truth of God."123 For Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, love must
necessarily follow upon knowledge and perception because only that which is
known and perceived can be loved, and "everything in which there is
delight and ease in the perception of it is beloved unto the perceiver."
"Thus love is an expression of the inclination or disposition to a thing
in which there is delight."124 This definition is very close to
that attributed to al-Junayd in al-Kalabadhi’s Kitab at-Taarruf:
"Love (mahabbah) is the inclination of the heart."125
But having defined love in this way, al-Ghazali then makes a move like that
attributed to al-Junayd by ad-Daylami, stating that "if that inclination
is firm and strong, it is called ishq."126 This sets the
stage for an emphatically positive treatment of the term ishq that
places it above mahabbah and equates it with the highest level of
realization.127
As Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali writes throughout the Revival
and in several other works, perception (idrak) is divided into two
major categories: outward (zahiri) and inward (batini). The
outward pertains to the five senses, whereas the inward is a sixth sense, known
as the intellect (aql), light, or the heart, and is far stronger:
Inner vision is
stronger than outward sight, and the heart is more intense in perceiving than
the eye. The beauty of meanings perceived through the intellect is greater than
the beauty of forms manifest to eyesight, and there is no doubt that the
delight of the heart with what it perceives among the noble divine affairs that
are too sublime to be perceived by the senses is more complete and more
profound. So the inclination of the sound nature and the healthy intellect to
it is stronger, and there is no meaning to love except the inclination to that
in the perception of which there is delight...................................
So no one denies the love of God
save he for whom being held back in the
degree of beasts has disabled him, for he will not surpass the perception of the
senses at all.128
Here Abu Hamid al-Ghazali combines and builds on ideas
previously stated, that love is inclination and delight. But he is more
emphatic, arguing, "There is no meaning to love except the inclination to
that in the perception of which there is delight." He then lists five
kinds of love that he believes comprise all modes of human love: (1) the love
of man for himself, his perfection (kamal), and his subsistence; (2) his
love for whoever does what is beautiful (al-muhsin) to him because it supports
his own completion and subsistence; (3) his love for one who does good out of
appreciation for the good he does; (4) his love for all that is beautiful in
its essence (fi dhatihi); and (5) his love for one with whom he has a
hidden inner relationship. But for Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, the only one who is
truly worthy of any form of love is God: "Whoever loves what is other than
God, not because of its relationship to Him, that is due to his ignorance and
his lack of knowledge of God."129 He thus argues that
"according to the People of Insight, there is in reality no beloved except
God and none worthy of love but Him."130 So each of the five
types of love is in fact love for God and is only complete in so far as it is
realized as such. As for the love of self:
This requires
the utmost love for God. Whoever knows himself and knows his Lord knows for
certain that he has no existence from his own essence and that the existence of
his essence and the persistence of and perfection of his existence is only from
God, for God and through God; for He is the Originator who gives him existence,
the One who makes him subsist and the One who perfects his existence by
creating the attributes of perfection, creating the effects which lead to it,
and creating the guidance in the application of the effects. Otherwise, there
would be no existence for the servant from his essence as concerns his essence;
rather, he would be shear obliteration and pure non-existence if not for the
grace of God upon him through existentiation
In sum, there is nothing in existence for
Him abiding though itself, except the
Abiding, the Living, Who is abiding in His Essence. All that is other than Him
is abiding through Him. So if the recognizer (arif) loves his [own]
essence and the existence of his essence pours forth from other than him, he
must necessarily love the One who pours forth his existence, who makes him
persist. If he knows Him to be a Creator, an Existentiator, an Originator, a
Subsister and an Abider through Himself, then he does not love Him, that is due
to his ignorance of himself and his Lord, for love is a fruit of knowledge.131
This passage goes a step beyond the discussion of love
in al-Hujwlrl toward the fullness of love in which lover and Beloved emanate—
or "derive," as Ahmad al-Ghazali expresses it—from Love Itself.
Logically the four other types of love flow from this first love, for in
understanding that one must love God because one’s existence flows from Him and
all that exists subsists through Him, one will necessarily realize that what is
loved is loved for that in it that subsists through God.
As regards the love of one who does what is beautiful (al-muhsin)
for one’s self because it completes one’s perfection and subsistence, Imam
al-Ghazali follows his argument that God is the only perfecter and the only one
who makes things subsist to its logical conclusion, saying, "The only one
who does what is beautiful is God," and that "doing what is beautiful
is only conceived for man metaphorically."132 Thus loving
another for the good he does for one’s self "requires in its essence that
one love none but God; for if he recognizes with the truth of recognition, then
he knows that the one who does what is beautiful to him is God alone."133
The love for the one who does what is beautiful simply for the beauty he
performs follows this same argument:
And this too requires the love of God;
rather, it requires that one love no one other than Him at all except in so far
as he is attached to Him through a cause. For God is the One who does what is
beautiful to all, the One who blesses all types of creatures.134
This benevolence comes through bringing them into
existence, perfecting them, comforting and blessing them, and beautifying them
with those things that are beyond their needs.135 For both the love
of one who does what is good for oneself and the love of one who does what is
beautiful in itself, it must be remembered that:
He is the Creator of beauty, the Creator
of the one who does what is beautiful, the Creator of doing what is beautiful,
and the Creator of the causes (asbab) of doing what is beautiful. For
this reason, love for what is other than Him is also sheer ignorance. Whoever
knows that will for this reason love none other than God.136
The fourth kind of love discussed by Imam Abu Hamid—love
for something beautiful for the beauty it possesses in itself—is love for God
because "the beauty of everything is in the perfection that befits
it,"137 "perfection belongs to God alone, and nothing
other than Him has perfection except by virtue of what God has given it."138
As was made clear in the discussion of the love of one’s self, God is the only
one who is perfect and the only one who makes perfect. Thus all beauty is in
fact God Himself; for as the Prophet Muhammad has said, "God is beautiful
and He loves beauty,"139 and the Absolute Beauty is the only
beauty that has no partner unto it in beauty, all beauty emanating from or
being derived from it. So all love of beauty is love of the Absolute Beauty.
This love is stronger than love for one who does what is beautiful, for doing
what is beautiful (ihsan) increases and decreases,140 whereas
what is beautiful pertains directly to God in His Absolute Perfection.
The fifth kind of love—for one with whom one has a
hidden inner relationship—is the most exalted and elusive. Imam al-Ghazali
states that it is an inner reality and does not provide a full account,
declaring, "It is permitted to record some of it in books and some of it
is not permitted to be recorded, but is left under the cover of dust until the
wayfarers on the path stumble upon it."141 That about which one
can write is the servant’s "taking on the lordly character traits,"
comprised in the Divine attributes, by drawing close to his Lord. That which
should be "left under the cover of dust" is alluded to in the Quranic
verses 17:75, They ask thee about the Spirit. Say, 'The Spirit is from the
command of my Lord,' and 15:29 and 38:72, So when I established him and
breathed into him from My Spirit. It is not to be spoken of because it is
in regard to this that the errors of "incarnationists" have arisen.142
But when devoid of exaggeration, this appears to be the type of love wherein hubb
or mahabbah is transformed into ishq.
For Imam Abu Hamid, it is of the utmost importance that
one realize love of God in all of these modes because true salvation lies in
love for God:
Know that the happiest of mankind in the
Hereafter are those who are strongest in love for God; for the meaning of the
Hereafter is reaching God and realizing the happiness of meeting Him. What is
greater for the lover than the blessing when he reaches his Beloved after
prolonged desire? He attains to witnessing for eternity with no arouser or
obfuscator, no overseer or competitor, with no fear or cutting off, except that
this blessing is in accord with the strength of his love. So whenever the love
increases the delight increases.143
In discussing the five phases of love, Imam Abu Hamid
uses the words hubb and mahabbah. But for him, the highest level of
delight, and thus love, is ishq, although few are able to attain this
level: "As for the strength of love and its overpowering until it attains
to the infatuation called ishq, most are separated from that."144
This infatuation is reached by two means:
The first of them is cutting off the
attachments of this world and expelling the love of what is other than God from
the heart. For the heart is like a container, it cannot hold vinegar, for
example, so long as water is not expelled from it: God did not make for man
two hearts in his breast (33:4). The perfection of love is in loving God
with all of one’s heart.145
When discussing the second means, Imam Abu Hamid
identifies love with recognition. This is a move first seen in ad-Daylaml but
which was not repeated by anyone after him and was even opposed by some. As
al-Qushayri writes:
Sumnun [al-Muhibb] gave precedence to
love (mahabbah) over recognition, but most give precedence to
recognition over love. According to the verifiers, love is destruction in delight
and recognition is witnessing in bewilderment (dahshah) and annihilation
in awe (haybah)16
But for Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, recognition and love are
one and the same:
The second
effect for the strength of love is the strength of recognition of God and its
expanding and overpowering the heart, and that is after purifying the heart of
all its preoccupations with the world and its attachments..........................................
Then from
this seed is born the tree of
recognition and love. That is the good word of which God has struck an example
when He says, God strikes the example of a good word, like a good tree whose
root is firm and whose branches are in the sky (13:24).147
Abu Hamid goes on to say, "Whenever this
recognition is attained, love follows it necessarily."148
Considering the issues raised in al-HujwM’s refutation
of certain positions regarding ishq that are not available in the
textual tradition, it appears that Imam Abu Hamid is also taking a stance on
issues that were actively debated in the oral tradition. That discussions of love
that are not recorded took place was suggested when he declared that the fifth
form of love is "left under the cover of dust until the wayfarers stumble
upon it."149 That which is not recorded is according to Abu
Hamid the knowledge of God in Himself, for that is a higher path, and "the
higher path is witnessing the Real beyond all creation. It is concealed and
discussion of it is beyond the understanding of most people, so there is no
benefit in seeking it in books."150 This is similar to the
understanding al-Mustamli conveyed when maintaining that "Someone who is
not aware of love does not know what [those who describe it] are talking about,
and someone who is under its influence [already] sees what the description
describes."151
Regarding these debates, it is clear that unlike
al-Hujwiri and Abu Ali ad-Daqqaq, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali maintains that the human
being can have ishq for God, that God has ishq for the human
being, and that through ishq the human being can know God in His very
Essence, not only through His attributes and actions. To know God in Himself is
what he calls the higher path. He gives the reader some indication of what the
higher path is in contrasting it to the lower path:
Those who reach this level are divided
into the strong whose first recognition is of God, then through Him they know
His acts, and the weak whose first recognition is of the acts, then they ascend
from that to the Agent. To the first there is an allusion through His word: Does
not your Lord suffice? Verily He is a witness over everything (41:54), and
through His word: God bears witness that there is no god but Him (3:18)
. . . To the second there is allusion in His word: We will show them Our
signs on the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that
He is the Real (41:53) . . . This path is the lower according to most and
it is more widespread among the wayfarers.152
Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali leaves the details of this
higher path aside, but in the Sawanih Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali goes
directly for the higher path. Nonetheless, of all the teachings on love between
the time of al-Hallaj and ad-Daylami and the appearance of the Sawanih,
the Revival provides the clearest example of an attitude toward love
similar to that expressed in the Sawanih and later Persian writings. For
the first time since the few passages attributed to al-Hallaj by ad-Daylami
over a century before, there appears a thoroughly positive treatment of ishq
and an expression of the belief that in its highest degree it is tied to recognition
(hrfan), not only of God’s acts and attributes but of the Divine Essence
in and of Itself.
In concluding this examination of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's
understanding of love, I must briefly discuss God's love for human beings. The
Imam distinguishes the love of the servant for the Creator from that of the
Creator for the servant. The love of the servant is for that from which it
derives greater perfection: "And this is impossible for God, for every
perfection, beauty, wonder and magnificence is possible in the truth of the
Divinity."153 The love of God for man is thus in fact God's
inclination toward Himself. In one of the most important passages of this book
of the Revival, he indicates that all love is ultimately God's love for
Himself:
None has a view of Him in so far as he
is other than Him, rather, one's view is of His Essence and His acts only, and
there is nothing in existence but His Essence and His acts. Therefore when the
verse, He loves them, and they love Him (5:54) was read to him, Shaykh
Abu Sa'id al-Mihani (d. 440/1048-9)154 said, "He loves them
truly, for there is nothing in love except Himself," meaning that He is
the entirety and that there is nothing in existence except Him.155
Viewed in this light, every love, every inclination, and
every delight is both for God and from God. The five stages of a human being's
love for God are thus five ways in which God loves Himself through the love of
His servants for Him.
There is little that can be done to determine all of the
Sufi teachers who shared the understanding of love alluded to by 'Abdallah
Ansari in multiple passages and by Abu Hamid al-Ghazali in the Revival
and expressed in the Sawanih and the later Persian Sufi tradition.
In light of the extant texts, ad-Daylami's claim that al-Hallaj was unique
among the shaykhs in maintaining that ishq is an attribute pertaining to
the Divine Essence and that every manifestation of it is directly connected to
that Essence appears to be accurate. But it may be that he was unique in openly
proclaiming teachings that others felt were best left unsaid, or that he was
unique in using the word ishq where others felt the word mahabbah
was more appropriate. This is evident in the writings of al-Qushayri,
al-Hujwiri, Ansari, and Abu Hamid al-Ghazali. The first two allude to the
pressures to criticize such teachings, but al-HujwM also tells us that
"the shaykhs wish the doctrine of Divine Love to remain hidden,"156
thus alluding to the possibility that even those who agree with the teachings
of al-Hallaj saw no benefit in exposing teachings to the uninitiated that might
only befuddle their intellects. It is most likely in this vein that Imam Abu
Hamid tells us that the discussion of ‘ishq is "left underneath the
cover of dust until the wayfarers of the path stumble upon it,"157 and
that Ansari asks, "How can the tongue express something that does not come
to the tongue? How can the spirit allude to something to which none can allude?
How can a mark be given of something that has no mark?"158 Such
statements indicate that one must attain to a certain degree of spiritual
maturity before one is able to properly understand the nature of love, and
especially that of ‘ishq. Read in this light, statements such as that of
Abu ’Ali ad-Daqqaq that criticize the use of the word ‘ishq may in fact
be meant to dissuade novices from speculating on teachings meant only for the
advanced. Evidently Ahmad al-Ghazali felt differently about exposing such
teachings. As he writes in the beginning of the Sawanih:
Sometimes an earthen vessel or a glass
bead is put in the hand of a novice until he becomes a master artisan; but
sometimes a precious, shining pearl that the master’s hand of knowledge does
not dare touch, let alone pierce, is put into his ignorant hand to pierce.159
This means that sometimes the most sublime truths can,
and perhaps even should, be exposed to spiritual novices so that their
treasures may be mined.
Given the paucity of textual evidence, efforts to
uncover the reasons for limiting discussion of ‘ishq would enter more
into the realm of speculation than analysis. It is, however, clear that in the Sawanih
Ahmad al-Ghazali chose to put to paper that which others before him, with the
exception of al-Hallaj and perhaps of ’Abdallah Ansari, had been reticent to
make public. This choice was a watershed event in Sufi history, the impact of
which has shaped Persian Sufi literature to this day.
Chapter 5
Ahmad al-Ghazali's
Metaphysics of Love
To understand the content of Ahmad al-Ghazali's writings
and sermons, one must also examine their form. In his attempts to transport his
audience to the truth of which he is certain and to actualize the realization
of it within them, Ahmad al-Ghazali is ever aware of the limitations inherent
to words. My analysis of his teachings will therefore begin with an examination
of his attitude toward language, since he often reminds the reader to be
conscious of the relativity of the words with which he communicates. Having
examined al-Ghazali's reflections on the nature of language, I will then
discuss his use of themes from the secular literary tradition, demonstrating
how he transports them into a Sufi context. This will be followed by an
examination of his attitude toward interpretation (taWil) and of his
allusive method of citing Quran, Hadith, and poetry.
The second half of the chapter provides a careful
examination of the teachings in the Sawanih, wherein all manifestations
of love are said to derive from one eternal Love. Love begins before creation,
descends into creation, and returns through the created order back to its
uncreated origin. The beginning of love is God's love for the human being, who
is privileged above all else to be God's beloved. But in creation the human
being becomes the lover seeking to return through the beloved, which is the God
of beliefs, to love itself, the God beyond all beliefs and all knowledge. Ahmad
al-Ghazali's main concern is to assist the wayfarer on the path through the
stages of love: loving what is other than the beloved; loving what is attached
to the beloved; and loving the beloved until one goes beyond the beloved and is
immersed in Love Itself.
Though Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali recognizes the need for
words and expressions in order to convey his message, he often reminds his
reader of the shortcomings that they cannot but entail. His is not a sustained
apophatic discourse in which the premises he poses are repeatedly undone by
what follows.1 Rather, his often affirmative mode of expression
indirectly and directly confirms the positive role of cataphatic religious
discourse in both the exoteric and esoteric domains, as was seen in Chapter 3
in his attitude toward the Shariah. He does, however, maintain that there are
fundamental limitations to cataphatic discourse and thus pushes the limits
inherent to language. To his mind, the subject of spiritual discourse is by
definition beyond the rational faculty. It is not grasped through thought, but
through submission, tasting, burning, and immersion. As he writes in the Sawanih:
Love is hidden, none has seen it revealed.
How long will these lovers boast in vain?
Everyone boasts of what he imagines love to be;
Love is free of imagination, and of this and that.2
In at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid the
insufficiencies of language are at times addressed. This theme is then somewhat
more prevalent in the sessions. But in the Sawanih, it becomes a central
component of the text, such that many passages could be read as an apophatic
discourse wherein what is attributed to the state of the lover is laid to waste
before the beloved, and what is attributed to the beloved becomes naught in the
Face of Love, whose reality is itself ineffable.
As discussed in Chapter 2, Ahmad al-Ghazali was well
trained in Quran, Hadith, the religious sciences, and Arabic poetry.
Like his brother Abu Hamid, he displayed a marked mastery of the art of
eloquence (balaghah) in Arabic and Persian, indicating both training and
native ability. Despite such proficiency, he ascribes no value to language in
and of itself; its words and expressions are at best allusions (isharat).
They are tools by which one may convey a glimpse of a higher reality that then
incites one to move toward that reality, but they must never be mistaken for
that reality itself. His only intention in employing words is to move the
reader or listener toward the ultimate reality to which no words can attain and
from which no report can be given. In the first of his collected sessions,
Ahmad al-Ghazali chides his audience, "You hear the verses but do not know
their meaning."3 Other such admonitions are found throughout
the sessions. But his most penetrating discussion of the limitation of words is
in the prologue of the Sawanih: "Love cannot be expressed in words
or contained in sentences, for the realities of love are like virgins, and the
hand of grasping words cannot reach the skirts of their pudenda."4 Here
the virgins can be seen as allusions to the pure maidens promised to believers
as a reward in the Hereafter, as in 55:56: Therein are maidens of modest
gaze, whom neither man or jinn has ever touched.5 For Ahmad
al-Ghazali, the virgins do not represent mere sensual delights, but rather
spiritual delights. The experience of inner spiritual realities is an
experience of such heavenly realities. Words as we know them in the temporal
world of form and contingency can never attain to the realities of this higher
world, for words pertain to form (surah), and meanings or realities (maani)
are by definition supra-formal. The task of one who uses words to provide
guidance is thus a daunting one, "Though our task is to join the virgin
realities to the men of words in the seclusions of discourse, the outward
expressions (ibarat) in this discussion are allusions to various
realities."6 Here "men" translates dhukur,
which can also mean "penises," as rendered by William Chittick,7
or have an implication of virility. Leili Anvar thus renders it "virile
males."8 These renderings indicate more emphatically that to
"join virgin realities to the men" or penises "of words" is
an impossible task, since the realities would then lose their virgin nature.
Thus outward expressions are but allusions, for the men of words must be
elevated beyond the realm of forms (alam as-suwar), which is the level
of words and expressions, to the realm of meanings and realities (alam
al-maani) in order to even glimpse the virgin realities. "In the
seclusions of discourse" alludes to the heart, the organ through which
realities are perceived. When one has arrived at the heart, one has in a sense
already gone beyond the realm of form, since the heart can perceive and no
longer needs reports. As Maybudl observes, "When a heart finds delight in
His grasp and is inundated by face-to-face vision, what will it do with
reports?"9
This link between seclusion and the heart is alluded to
in one of Shaykh Ahmad’s sessions: "Where is this seclusion (khalwah)?
Within the cavity of your heart."10 Following this remark,
Ahmad quotes from a well-known saying often cited in Sufi texts wherein God
addresses the Prophet David, saying, "David empty for Me a house that I
may dwell in it. When you refine and empty your inner being, and your inner
being becomes the heart of life, then in that will I dwell."11
From this perspective, it is in the seclusion of a heart that has been emptied
for God that spiritual realities are joined to the men of words, or penetrated
by the penis of discourse. Only when one has attained to heart consciousness
that is free of attachment to outer expressions is one able to perceive the realities
to which the expressions allude. But until one reaches the seclusion of the
heart where there is no longer any need for forms to convey meanings, the forms
of language can serve to move one toward the heart by conveying some of its
meanings and realities.
This conception of words is essential for understanding
Ahmad al-Ghazali's writings and the intention behind his citations of Quran,
Hadith, poetry, and Sufi sayings. As with Sufis before him, he sees a crucial
divide between the forms (suwar) of the words and their meanings or
realities (maani). To explain this subtle relationship between words and
realities, he speaks of "the allusion of an outward expression" (isharat-i
ibarat), wherein a seemingly straightforward citation actually alludes to many
layers of inner meaning. He then flips these terms around to say that one must
also be aware of "the outward expression of an allusion" (ibarat-i
isharat), wherein a spiritual reality is given direct expression in simple
terms, such as in the famous saying delivered in the form of a hadith qudsi:
"I am with those whose hearts are broken."12 With
"the allusion of an outward expression" the true meaning may be
veiled by an apparent meaning. With "the outward expression of an
allusion" the direct message may be obscured by overanalysis. As much as
words, expressions, and allusions may be a support that moves the wayfarer
toward the witnessing of higher realities, it is only by insight (basirah)
that such realities are perceived. As al-Ghazali puts it, "In the hearts
of words lie the edges of a sword that cannot be seen except by inner insight (basirat-i
batini),"13 meaning only through insight can one pierce the
forms and thus attain to the realities that they convey.
In discussing the secrets of realization through both
the written and oral mediums, Ahmad al-Ghazali understood his function to be
that of a guide whose tongue and pen had the power to evoke longing for the
beloved and remembrance of the Divine. Regarding the tongue, he says in one of
his sessions, "Whoever comes to me with ears pertaining to the spirit, I
present to him the secrets of the king- dom."14 Regarding the
pen, he tells us that the Sawanih was written so that the reader who
experiences the pain of not attaining full union "can read the book to
keep busy and employ its verses to take hold."15 That is
"to take hold" of the path of wayfaring in love. This intention
predominates in all of his words. Ahmad al-Ghazali likens the nature of his
writings to that of the Quran, which does not provide didactic explanation but
rather was sent down as guidance to mankind (2:185). In this way he is
more a guide and preacher than a formal instructor. His mode of discourse is
like that of the Quran: terse, immediate, and allusive.16 He does
not explain his words or citations; rather, his intention is to create the
spark of insight by which the fire of knowledge, or recognition, is ignited. He
selects images not only for aesthetic value but to evoke an image of the
Absolute that the wayfarer receives as a reflection of his beloved upon the
screen of his own heart. This can be a wink, an eyebrow, a cheek, or the
beloved’s tress. In each case, "[it] is an indication of that searching of
the spirit and the heart, and it is far from bodily deficiencies."17
In Ahmad al-Ghazali’s frame of reference, the rational
faculty corresponds to the level of knowledge (‘ilm), which is below the
level of recognition (‘irfan), according to the technical terminology
employed in his sessions, or below the level of love, as expressed in this
passage of the Sawanih:
The end of "knowledge" is the
shore of love. If one is on the shore, some account from it will be his share,
and if he steps forward, he will be drowned. Now how can he give any report?
How can the one who is drowned have any knowledge?
Your beauty is beyond my sight.
Your secret is too deep for my knowledge.
In loving You, my singleness is a crowd.
In describing You, my ability is impotence.
Nay, knowledge is the moth of love. Its
knowledge is the outer aspect of the affair. In it the first thing that burns
is knowledge. Now who can bring a report from that?18
The place of knowledge in relation to recognition is
addressed in the sessions when Ahmad al-Ghazali is asked about the meaning of a
famous saying of Ali ibn Abl Talib, regarded by some as a hadith: "He
who knows himself, knows his Lord."19 To which he replies:
Knowledge has become confused for you with recognition.
Do you know what recognition is? [It is]
the burning of moths in the flame of the candle. Do you see who informs you of
the moth’s state? Moses said, “Perhaps I shall bring you a burning coal
therefrom, or find guidance at the fire” (20:10).
Then someone said, "When it burns who comes?"
He replied, "Fleeting thoughts
pertain to the soul and have no path to the heart. Knowledge pertains to the
heart and has no path to the spirit.20 And recognition is in the
spirit. The flame is from the spirit burning in the fires of longing. If the
flame speaks, know that you have arrived."21
That which is described as the fire of love in the Sawanih
is thus described as the fire of recognition in the Majalis. Just as in
the "Book of Love" of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's Revival, for
Ahmad the stage of ‘irfan and the stage of ‘ishq are one and the
same and lie beyond the stages of knowledge. From this perspective, knowledge
cannot penetrate the secrets of ‘ishq and ‘irfan, for "this
reality is a pearl in a shell, and the shell is in the depths of the ocean.
Knowledge can only advance as far as the seashore, how could it reach the depths?"22
In the final analysis, knowledge is what can be transmitted, while
recognition and love must be experienced or tasted for oneself. As noted at the
end of Chapter 4, for Ahmad al-Ghazali this limitation applies even to the
Prophet Muhammad: "Whenever the Messenger of God was carried to the ocean
of knowledge it would flow forth, but when he was cast into the ocean of
recognition he said, ‘I do not know, I only worship' (la adri innama
a‘budu)."23
As Shaykh Ahmad's only concern is love or recognition (‘irfan)
and not knowledge in and of itself, the purpose of his words is to guide,
not to transmit. From his perspective, recognition is not discursive; it is not
a thing obtained and possessed at the level of the spirit; rather, it is an
actualization of the spirit, the true essence of the human being that is
breathed into him by God (Quran 15:29; 38:72). As al-Ghazali's goal is never to
offer didactic lessons regarding particular questions of doctrine or to
establish a philosophical, theoretical, or metaphysical systematization, the
Quranic verses, ahadith, and poetry cited in his works are not the
objects of commentary, but loci that function as gateways to the contemplation
of higher realities. It is often left to the reader or listener to make the connection
between the citation and the point that the shaykh is discussing, as with the
Quranic verse cited above (Moses said, “Perhaps I shall bring you a burning
coal therefrom, or find guidance at the fire”: 20:10). Here the burning
coal is seen as an allusion to partial knowledge brought as a report from
the fire. It is far from the recognition alluded to in the words "find
guidance." The allusion is made even more elusive when he does not finish
the citation, but relies on one's previous knowledge of the context in which
the verse occurs to make the full connection, as the verse comes just before
Moses is told to remove his sandals and stand before God.
In this manner of citation, al-Ghazali is following in
the path of many Sufis before him, such as Sahl at-Tustari (d. 283/869), Ibn
'Ata’ (d. 309/922),24 and the author of the commentary attributed to
Jafar b. Muhammad as-Sadiq (d. 148/765),25 as well as many others
whose commentaries are found in the Haqahq at-tafsir (The Realities of
Exegesis) of 'Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulaml. As Gerhard Bowering observes, for the
Sufis the verses and phrases of the Quran serve as keynotes that strike the
Sufi’s mind, signaling "the breakthrough to God, revealing Himself in His
divine speech and opening a way to Himself through and beyond His divine
word."26 For Ahmad al-Ghazali, as for many others, Hadith and
poetry can also open a way to God. When employed with such an intention, what
appear to be commentaries are in fact allusions, often taken up in isolation
from their particular textual context, such that the outward meaning of the
text may seem to be at odds with the inner reality that the spiritual guide or
aspirant may see within it.
Many examples could be drawn from Ahmad al-Ghazali’s
extensive use of poetry, especially in the Sessions, where verses from
famous poets such as Kuthayyir 'Azzah (d. 105/723), Abu Nuwas (d. ca. 198/814),
and al-Mutanabbl (d. 354/965) are cited side by side with verses from the Sufi
tradition and anonymous verses, which may have been authored by Ahmad
al-Ghazali himself. The Shaykh is particularly indebted to the traditions of
wine poetry, or khamriyyahf7 and longing love, or ‘udhri
ghazal.2 Like al-Qushayrl before him and 'Umar Ibn al-Farid (d. 632/1235),
Ibn al-'Arabi, and Jalal al-Din Rumi over a century later, he weaves themes
from the secular belletristic (adab) tradition into a thoroughly
spiritual discourse. This provides a tapestry whose colors and texture would be
familiar to any educated reader or listener, but whose aim and function are of
a spiritual nature, such that the signified shifts from a secular, outward
meaning to a spiritual, inward meaning.
While examples of verses from the khamriyyah
tradition are scattered here and there, themes from the ‘udhri ghazal
tradition are prevalent throughout the Sawanih. As Roger Allen writes of
the ‘udhri ghazal:
The poet-lover places his beloved on a
pedestal and worships her from afar. He is obsessed and tormented; he becomes
debilitated, ill, and is doomed to a love-death. The beloved in turn becomes
the personification of the ideal woman, a transcendental image of all that is
beautiful and chaste. The cheek, the neck, the bosom, and, above all, the
eyes—a mere glance—these are the cause of passion, longing, devastation and
exhaustion.29
All of these elements are to be found in the Sawanih,
as well as Samam's Rawh al-arwah, Maybudi's Kashf al-asrar, Ayn
al-Qudat's Tamhidat, and the Persian Sufi love tradition that was to
follow. Within these texts the Divine becomes the supreme beloved for whom the
wayfarer must give his very self, and "the glance of beauty" (kirishmah-
yi husn) from the beloved is the means by which the lover is drawn toward
the beloved and beyond until being annihilated in love. Like many authors of
the Arabic literary tradition and other Sufi writers, Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali
employs the renowned Majnun-Layla legend. Like writers of the Persian
tradition, he also takes the legendary love of Sultan Mahmud of Ghaznah (d.
421/1030) for his servant Ayaz b. Aymaq (d. 449/1059) as an example of the
complete self-sacrificing love that a person of serious spiritual intent must
have for God. In the example of Majnun-Layla, it is the love of a man for a
woman; in the example of the Sultan, it is the love of a man for a man. What matters
for Ahmad al-Ghazali is not the gender of the beloved but love itself, which is
beyond the duality of gender. Unlike the authors of the secular literary
tradition, wherein the love between two parties is celebrated or lamented,
Ahmad al-Ghazali sees the relationship between the lover and the beloved as a
transient phase on the spiritual path that must be surpassed in order for one
to be immersed in the oneness of Divine Love. Whereas the secular literary
tradition is filled with stories of those who were martyrs to love, Ahmad
al-Ghazali, like Sufis before and after him, wrote not of the physical death
that occurs because of love, but of spiritual annihilation (fana) in
Love Itself.30
While the ‘udhri ghazal tradition provided
fertile soil for the central teachings of Ahmad al-Ghazali, in both his letters
and the Sawanih, the influence of the khamriyyah tradition is
less profound. The best example of his extracting verses from their context in
order to allude to Sufi teachings is found in the use of verses from Abu Nuwas
in the following passage:
But one cannot eat the nourishment of
awareness from that which is the hard cash of his spirit, only in the
reflection of the beauty of the beloved’s face.
Give me wine to drink and tell me it is wine.
Do not give me drink in secret if it can be done openly.31
The union with the beloved is eating
the nourishment of awareness from the hard cash of one’s own spirit, not
finding.32
Abu Nuwas was known for leading a profligate life.
Despite his at times penitent voice, there is little doubt that for him the
meaning of these verses was literal. But for Ahmad al-Ghazali, as for
al-Qushayri and al-Hujwlrl before him and many after him, these verses allude
to the wine of realization, of which al-Ghazali writes:
Of that wine which is not forbidden in our religion
You’ll not find our lips dry till we return to
non-existence.33
The verses of Abu Nuwas are thus cited in this context
as an allusion to the nourishment that the lover—the wayfarer—receives from his
divine beloved on the spiritual path.
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s allusive manner of employing other
textual traditions, both religious and secular, is common to Sufi discourse and
an intrinsic component of his writings and sermons. Many Sufis recognize such
hermeneutics as allusions or inferences (istinbat) drawn from one’s
relationship with the text, rather than exegesis (tafsir) produced by
reflection (fikr) on its meaning—the latter being the method of more
exoteric exegetes.34
Ahmad al-Ghazali had contempt for the confining nature
of most exegesis. This is exemplified in an invective he launches against
interpretation (taWil). In response to an inquiry as to who knows the
interpretation of miracles, he responds:
Whoever says that there are
interpretations for the miracles which have occurred through the prophets is an
unbeliever; there is no doubt regarding his unbelief and no doubt regarding the
unbelief of one who doubts his unbelief. Do not doubt that the moon was cleaved
by the Messenger of God—peace and blessings be upon him—The hour has drawn
nigh and the moon has been cleaved (54:1). There is no magnanimity for the
man of reason who interprets this. And Jesus—peace be upon him—brought the dead
to life by the leave of God (3:49; cf. 5:110). There is no magnanimity
for one who says: "He meant by it the revival of the heart." Likewise
for one who shuts the door of Islam and roles up the carpet of the law and
opposes some one hundred and twenty thousand prophets.35 It is
incumbent upon you; yes, it is incumbent upon you to watch over the guarded
sanctuary in order that you do not fall into it.36
This last line is an allusion to a famous hadith
of the Prophet:
The permissible (halal) is clear
and the forbidden (haram) is clear and between them are ambiguous issues
which few people know. Whosoever is wary of ambiguities seeks to keep his
religion and his honor pure, and whosoever falls into ambiguities falls into
the forbidden, like the shepherd who pastures (his flock) around a guarded
sanctuary verging on grazing therein. Verily for every king there is a guarded
sanctuary. Verily God’s guarded sanctuary is that which He forbids. And verily
there is a lump of flesh in the body which, when it is sound, the entire body
is sound, and, when it is corrupt, the entire body is corrupt. Indeed, it is
the heart.37
This hadith is known to many as one of the
axiomatic ahadith of the Islamic tradition. Many in his audience would
therefore be familiar with the allusion. Al-Ghazali is thus drawing upon their
knowledge of law to equate the proclivity for taWil with the snares of
Satan that pull one to the edge of that into which they should not venture. He
goes on to say:
Most of the diseases of human beings are
of this kind. They see the beginnings (of the sciences [ulum]) radiating
and uncontested issues appear in the introductions of books. So they have a
good opinion of the one who proclaims them and seek to acquiesce to what is
behind them without any proof.38
Such is the path of the exoteric sciences and, in Ahmad
al-Ghazali's vocabulary, the way of taWil. But according to him, the way
of truth and thus the way to recognition is to follow:
It is incumbent upon you to follow the
book of God and the sunnah of His Messenger, and to act according to one
verse: Whosoever believes in God, He guides his heart (64:11). Whosoever
seeks guidance from other than the door of faith, he is astray, leading astray.39
In other words, faith should not be mistaken for
acquiescence to doctrinal expressions of particular creeds, nor for the
acceptance of particular spiritual and metaphysical teachings and concepts.
Rather, faith is accepting God's guidance without particular preconceptions of
where that guidance must lead and how it must come about.
Given this approach, Ahmad al-Ghazali, like many Sufi
authors who write in this same vein, rarely provides an introduction for
citations of Quran and Hadith, poetry, love stories, and Sufi sayings. He
introduces them in the middle of his discourse as if there were a seamless
continuity between the message of his words and the cited passage(s). In the Sawanih,
only the reader steeped in early Persian poetry can distinguish between the
author's poetry and that of his predecessors. In his writings and sermons, he
rarely sets off citations with conventional expressions, such as "As God
says . . . ," "As the Messenger of God says . . . ," or "As
the poet says. . . ." Rather, they are so interwoven with his own words
that they can elude even the most erudite and meticulous of scholars.40
Nowhere is this organic fluidity more apparent than in his ‘Ayniyyeh,
where, in the Quranic style of rhyming prose (saj‘), al-Ghazali rhymes
Persian prose with Arabic citations from Quran and Hadith and follows verses of
Arabic poetry with verses of Persian poetry comprised of many of the same words
and themes. Unfortunately, such rhetorical subtleties can almost never be
captured in translation.41
Considering Ahmad al-Ghazali's conviction that language
and interpretation have no access to higher realities, his teachings on love
should not be read as an exposition of the phenomenon. Rather, love is the
means by which he draws the reader to the deepest mysteries of the spiritual
path. This immediacy is intended to pierce the reader's consciousness and
penetrate the very soul so as to draw one toward the mysteries of love and
recognition (‘irfan). In both his writings and sermons, Ahmad
al-Ghazali's one aim is that the reader join all his aspiration (jam
al-himmah) and focus his entire being with complete sincerity (ikhlas)
upon his only task: the remembrance of God. Joining together one’s
aspiration(s)—jam al-himmah or jam al-ahimmah is an important
concept in Sufi texts. Regarding this, Ahmad al-Ghazali cites a saying that he
attributes to Abu Bakr as-Siddiq: "One round of prayer from he who joins
together his aspirations is weightier with God than one hundred horses fighting
in the path of God."42 With this as his goal, Shaykh Ahmad does
not present his words as commentary or interpretation but as signposts for
wayfarers on the Sufi path who have the insight with which to pierce their
forms and attain their meanings.
As demonstrated in Chapter 4, there are fragmentary
precedents for Ahmad al-Ghazalfs understanding of love in the writings of
previous Sufis, though for many early Sufis we do not have complete details of
their teachings. In Ahmad al-Ghazali's teachings we find a more complete
metaphysics of love. His is not a systematic account but a tapestry of
allusions and openings woven for wayfarers who have already set out to travel
the spiritual path, based on his position that "opening a door is
sufficient for a discerning intelligence."43 Much like the
Quran, the Sawanih may appear to the uninitiated as a disjointed
collection of aphorisms pertaining to a particular set of themes. The
underlying order is discerned only through close reading.
Here I will present Ahmad al-Ghazali's views on love in
a more systematic manner, tracing the progressive stages and stations of love
as they appear in many different sections of the Sawanih. As the text is
at times terse and elusive, I draw on other texts of this genre to flesh out
its observations. These will be the Kashf al-Asrar of Maybudi, the Rawh
al-arwah of Sam’ani, the Tamhidat of ’Ayn al-Qudat, and the Lamaat
of Fakhr ad-Din ’Iraqi. The Tamhidat is closer to the Sawanih, and
its technical vocabulary is similar. As he was al-Ghazali's disciple, ’Ayn
al-Qudat is concerned with many of the same issues, especially in Chapter 6,
"The Reality and States of Love," and Chapter 7, "The Reality of
the Spirit and the Heart." Fakhr al-Din ’Iraqi describes his Lamaat
as "a few words explaining the levels of love in the tradition of the Sawanih,
in tune with the voice of each state as it passes."44 Like
al-Ghazali, ’Iraqi provides a subtle metaphysical discourse based on the idea
that "the derivation of the lover and the beloved is from Love,"45
and sees all of reality as an unfolding of Love wherein all is either lover or
beloved and their duality is eventually subsumed in the reality of Love Itself.
He explains metaphysical issues that pertain to both the school of Ibn al-Arabi
and the teachings of Ahmad al-Ghazali in a manner that employs the technical
vocabulary of both traditions, while retaining the dramatic tension of the Sawanih.
Nonetheless, in his overall metaphysics, ’Iraqi is more a follower of his
teacher Sadr ad-Din Qunawi (d. 673/1274) and the school of Ibn al-Arabi than of
Ahmad al-Ghazali. Ultimately, there can be no one- to-one correspondence
between texts written at this level. As ’Iraqi puts it:
There is no doubt that every lover gives
a different sign of the beloved, every recognizer provides a different
explanation, and every verifier makes a different allusion. The declaration of
each is:
Our expressions are many and Your loveliness one,
Each of us points to that single beauty.46
From this perspective, although the texts may diverge in
their modes of expression, they complement one another because they each point
to the beauty of God, which for these authors is the one beauty from which all
other beauty derives.
In the context of the Sawanih, love could be said
to have two beginnings: the first before creation, and the second within
creation. The beginning within creation is the movement of the wayfarer toward
love. That before creation begins with God’s love for the human being, which is
also the source of man’s love for God. From the perspective of wayfaring, the
human being is the beloved. This beginningless love is what distinguishes the
human being from the rest of creation. As Ahmad al-Ghazali writes, "The
special character of the human being is this: is it not enough that one is
beloved before one is a lover? This is no small virtue."47 Like
many other Sufi authors, he maintains that this beginningless state of being
beloved is what is referred to in the Quranic verse: He loves them and they
love Him (5:57). Drawing upon this verse, he writes:
The root of love grows from eternity.
The dot under the letter ba} (b) in He loves them
(yuhibbuhum) was planted as a seed in the ground of they love Him.
No, rather, that point was planted in them (hum), for they love Him
to come forth.48
Ahmad al-Ghazali, like many before and after him,
explains this love by referring to the Quranic story of the pre-temporal
covenant with God made while all human beings were still in Adam’s loins. As
the Quran states:
And
[remember] when thy Lord took from the Children of Adam, from their loins,
their progeny, and made them bear witness concerning themselves, “Am I not your
Lord?” They said, “Yea, surely, we bear witness”—lest you should say on the Day
of Resurrection, “Truly, we were heedless of this” (7:172).
This event is known in Islamic literature as “The Day of
the Covenant" and in the Persian Sufi tradition as ruz-i alast (The
Day of "Am I not [your Lord]?"). It is understood by Ahmad al-Ghazali
and others as a covenant fashioned in love and through love. When God said to
all human beings, “Am I not your Lord,” this was His love for them. When
human beings responded by saying “Yea” (bala), this was their love for
God. From this perspective, only through God’s making them beloved did human
beings become lovers, and all of human love and striving for God originates
from God’s pre-temporal love for man. As Ahmad writes, "He loves them
is before they love Him—no doubt. Bayazid [al-Bastami] said, ‘For a long
time I imagined that I desired Him. He Himself had first desired me.’"49
From this perspective, the human being’s love for God is
the self-same love that God has for the human being. Although human love finds
expression in the temporal order, like the human being himself, love’s origin
is beginninglessness and its goal is endlessness. Shaykh al-Ghazali alludes to
the fundamental unity of love in all of these phases through a metaphor,
"When the jasmine of love came forth, the seed was the same color as the
fruit, and the fruit was the same color as the seed."50 The
seed, the tree, and the fruit can each be spoken of as different entities, but
they are in reality the same substance in different forms. The whole of the Sawanih
is about the derivation of all love’s many branches and fruits from this one
eternal seed of love and the inevitable return of all modes of love to Love in
Love and through Love. As the Shaykh writes:
Love is its own bird and its own nest,
its own essence and its own attribute, its own wing and its own wind, its own
arc and its own flight, its own hunter and its own game, its own direction and
what is directed there, its own seeker and its own goal. It is its own
beginning and its own end, its own sultan and its own subject, its own sword
and its own sheath. It is garden as well as tree, branch as well as fruit, nest
as well as bird.51
The entirety of this discussion thus regards the many
faces that Absolute Love assumes as it unfolds Itself. In this sense,
al-Ghazali goes a step beyond the teachings on love attributed to al-Hallaj by
ad-Daylami. Whereas al-Hallaj is said to have spoken of ‘ishq as an
attribute pertaining to the Divine Essence and ad-Daylami alludes to the same
teaching while using the word mahabbah, al-Ghazali, like Ayn al-Qudat
and Traqi after him, treats it as the Divine Essence Itself. Not only does God
love man, God has fashioned everything through love. As Traqi writes,
"Love flows in all existents . . . all is love."52 So love
is in fact the very essence of the lover. This same understanding may be
implied in the teachings of al-Hallaj, ad-Daylami, and Ansari, but none of them
develops an extensive explanation. They do imply that all aspects of creation
are manifestations of love, but they do not provide a detailed explanation
wherein every phase of spiritual wayfaring is presented in relation to love.
The process by which the Divine Love-Essence unfolds
Itself comprises two phases: the path of descent and the path of ascent. The
former is the path from the Divine and the latter is the path of return to the
Divine. The descent is the path from the love which begins before creation and
the ascent is from the love which begins in creation. Most of the Sawanih
is concerned with the path of ascent because its many obstacles confront the
lover and dilute his experience of love for that which is eternal with love for
that which is contingent and temporal. Nonetheless, there is some discussion of
the path of descent, since in order to fully understand his predicament the
spiritual wayfarer must be aware that this affair began in beginninglessness (abad),
attains to endlessness (aza/), and cannot be fully realized in the
temporal realm. As Ahmad al-Ghazali writes:
O chivalrous one! The grace that
eternity put in begin- ninglessness, how can contingency receive it all except
in endlessness? No, rather contingency can only fully receive the grace that
eternity placed in beginninglessness in endlessness.
O chivalrous one! Beginninglessness has
reached here [this world], but endlessness can never reach an end. The grace
that descends will never reach complete exhaustion. If you gain insight into
the secret core of your moment, know that the two bows' length (53:9) of
beginninglessness and endlessness are your heart and your moment (waqt).53
The reference to "two bows’ length" is taken
from the Quranic account of the ascension (mi'raj) of the Prophet
Muhammad into the Divine Presence: Then He drew nigh and came close, until
he was within two bows' length or nearer. Then He revealed to His servant what
He revealed. The heart lied not in what it saw (53:8-11).54 For
Ahmad al-Ghazali, as for many Sufis, the two bows represent the arc of descent
from beginninglessness and the arc of ascent to endlessness. Together they
comprise the entire circle of existence. Beginninglessness is the point from
which the arc of descent begins and endlessness is the point to which the arc
of ascent returns. But in reality they are one and the same; the term employed
is a question of perspective. As one descends into the corporeal world, various
modes of manifestation are actualized. In order for these modes to be
integrated and unified, one must return upon the path of ascent. To say that
the path of descent from beginninglessness and the path of ascent to
endlessness are the wayfarer’s heart and moment is thus to say that one’s true
nature is determined by where one stands in the process of return. As will be
explained below, the heart is the faculty of love whereby beauty and the
beloved are perceived as many derivations of love, and this act of perception
is the very process of spiritual reintegration. The moment is the state that
alters in accord with the wayfarer’s position as he moves through the phases of
his or her journey. This moment will vacillate between pain and relief, sorrow
and happiness, and expansion and contraction until the wayfarer is annihilated
in Love Itself beyond its manifestations as lover and beloved.
A crucial moment in the path of descent occurs when the
spirit descends into the temporal order. For Ahmad al-Ghazali, as for Maybudl,
Sam’ani, Ayn al-Qudat, and all representatives of the "School of
Love," this spirit is what God refers to when He says, Say, “The spirit
is from the command of my Lord," (17:85) and I breathed into him of
My spirit (15:29, 38:72). They take these verses to indicate that the
spirit is the core of the human being, through which one is eternally connected
to the command of God. As Sam’anl writes, "On the day He said, 'I
breathed into him of My spirit' [15:29], He set in place the human beings’
qualification. In beginninglessness He had decreed that sheer servanthood would
contract a marriage with complete lordhood: “Am I not your Lord?”
[7:172].55 As such, the spirit is not subject to the words Be!
And it is (kun fa-yakun; 2:117; 3:47; 6:73; 16:40; 19:35; 36:82; 40:69) by
which God creates.56 For Ayn al-Qudat, the spirit is in fact the
command itself: "It is the commander, not the commanded. It is the actor,
not the deed done; the conqueror, not the conquered."57
According to al-Ghazali, "When the spirit came from non-existence into
existence, love was awaiting the spirit-mount on the frontier of existence."58
The spirit was awaiting love because it is fashioned for love alone and is the
only mount that is fit for love. As Ayn al-Qudat writes, the spirit "has
the quality of beginninglessness."59 Thus Shaykh al-Ghazali
writes, "love does not appear as a rider on anything except the mount of
the spirit."60 The spirit always maintains a position above the
heart because the latter fluctuates between the dispersion of the soul and
constancy of the spirit. As observed in Chapter 3, the heart, though more
subtle and more exalted than the soul, nonetheless represents the outermost
aspect of the wayfarer’s inner being. The spirit and the secret core are more
exalted and subtler dimensions of one’s inner nature. As will be seen below,
much of the journey is traveled within the heart as it moves closer to the
spirit, but love can appear only in the spirit because only the spirit has the
capacity to fully manifest love.
Since the wayfarer is veiled by many of the obfuscations
that arise in the process of creation, the relation between love and the spirit
upon which it is mounted can take on many forms. As al-Ghazali writes:
Sometimes the spirit is for love like
the earth, such that the tree of love grows from it. Sometimes the spirit is
like the essence, such that the attribute subsists through it. Sometimes it is
like the partner in a house, such that love also has a turn in subsistence.
Sometimes love is the essence and the spirit is the attribute, such that the
spirit will subsist through it.61
These multiple relationships arise because "the
spirit is the shell of love,"62 so in seeking love the wayfarer
must encounter the spirit before fully encountering love. Therefore, the spirit
will sometimes appear to be riding on love, while love will appear to be
subsisting through it, whereas in reality love is riding on the spirit and the
spirit is subsisting through love. For most people, perception remains
delimited by the contingencies of temporality, thus the relationship between
love and the spirit appears distorted. Its reality is only perceived when one
has entered what Shaykh al-Ghazali refers to as "the world of the second
affirmation" beyond effacement,63 that is, when the individual
existence of the lover is consumed and the lover abides in love alone.
The faculty whereby the spiritual journey is undertaken
is the heart, for the heart has been made to love alone, as mentioned
previously:
The function of the heart is being a
lover. So long as love is not, it has no function. When it becomes a lover, its
affair will also become ready. It is thus certain that the heart has been
created for love and being a lover and knows nothing else.64
Ahmad al-Ghazali thus likens the heart to a nest for the
beginningless bird of love:
The secret of this—that Love never shows
the whole of its face to anyone—is that it is the bird of beginninglessness.
What has come here [in this world] is the traveler of endlessness. Here it does
not show its face to the vision of contingent beings, for every house is not a
nest for it, as it has hidden a nest from the magnificence of
beginninglessness.65
In so far as one attempts to perceive love with the
faculties of perception or to understand love with the mind, one will fail. As
William Chittick observes, "Scholars and thinkers have no entrance into
this realm unless they also become lovers."66 To know love, or
rather to taste love, one must know the heart and learn to see with it, for it
alone can perceive manifestations of Love’s attributes in the realm of
contingent beings. In the temporal order, the wayfarer experiences the heart as
the locus of the beloved’s beauty, even when he is ignorant of this function.
As Shaykh al-Ghazali writes, "And it may be that the lover himself does
not know this, but his heart itself is the locus of that beauty and seeks
observation until it finds."67 This is why he says that the
lover "only drinks from the bowl of the heart."68 For
although his nourishment in love is from the beauty of the beloved, this beauty
is only witnessed upon that screen by which love contemplates its own
self-disclosures through the lover’s witnessing of them, that is, the heart,
since "the heart is the locus of [love’s] attributes."69
Ahmad al-Ghazali’s many allusions to the function of the
heart are scattered throughout the Sawanih. In his Tamhidat, Ayn
al-Qudat provides a more lucid and concise discussion. Here he enjoins the
reader to seek the heart, as it is in the heart that one’s true nature is
found:
Seek the heart! And seize it! Do you
know where the heart is? Seek the heart "between the two fingers of the
Compassionate."70 Alas! If the beauty of "the two fingers
of the Compassionate" were to lift the veil of pride, every heart would
find the remedy. The heart knows what it is and who it is. The heart is the
object of God’s gaze. And the heart itself is deserving of "Verily God
does not look at your forms, nor at your deeds, but He looks at your
hearts."71 O friend, the heart is the locus of God’s gaze. When
the [bodily] frame (qalib) takes on the color of the heart and becomes
the same color as the heart, the [bodily] frame is also the object of the gaze.72
In witnessing the traces and images of the beloved, the
lover becomes the means by which God witnesses the attributes of His love,
which are all composed of His beauty as it is reflected on the screen of the
lover’s heart. As the wayfarer progresses in love, the body itself takes on the
color of the heart, for a subtle heart results in the Divine Love or Light
penetrating into the Adamic clay.73 Regarding the witnessing of the
Divine within one’s own heart, Ahmad al-Ghazali records these verses:
You yourself, O beloved, are in the heart night and day.
Whenever I want you, I look in the heart.74
The heart is, however, only the locus for the
manifestation of love’s attributes, not of Love Itself, since Love is the
Divine Essence, and the Essence can never be fully manifest. This is why Ahmad
al-Ghazali states, "love never shows the whole of its face to
anyone." The various stages and degrees of the path can be understood as
the various ways in which Love’s attributes become manifest. But as Fakhr
ad-Din ’Iraqi observes, here the attributes also function as veils:
His veils are His own names and
attributes. As the author of Qut al-qulub75 puts it,
"Essence is veiled by attributes, attributes by acts." Ultimately, He
Himself is His own veil, for He is hidden by the very intensity of His
manifestation and covered by the very potency of His light.76
The veils are essential for manifestation. Without them,
all that exists would be eradicated by God’s immediate and overwhelming
presence. In this sense, it is through God’s own limitation of Himself that
manifestation comes forth. Hence ’Iraqi writes, "These names and
attributes must not be raised, for if they were, the unity of the Essence would
blaze forth from behind the screen of might, and all things would be totally
annihilated."77 The inability to perceive God may therefore not
be due to distance, but rather proximity. As al-Ghazali writes, "All that
is unreachable is not so because of greatness and exaltedness. It is also from
subtlety and excess of proximity."78
The spiritual wayfarer’s first intuitions of love come
through the perception of God’s self-delimitations. By strengthening the inner
faculties of perception and passing through the veils of the Divine attributes,
the lover is gradually able to witness the Divine in a more direct manner. But
this is a painful and arduous process, for not only must the outer veils be
removed, so too, must the inner veils be removed. As Shaykh al-Ghazali writes,
"The inner worlds cannot be realized so easily. This is not so easy
because there are screens, veils, treasures, and wonders there."79
As such, he maintains that the spiritual path is characterized more by pain,
affliction, and oppression than by ease, comfort, and consolation: "In
reality, love is affliction, and intimacy and comfort in it are strange and are
borrowed."80 He goes on to say both that "Love is
affliction" and that "affliction is the heart."81 So
to experience affliction in the heart is in the very nature of having a heart
and part of its maturation. As Maybudi puts it, "When something is burnt,
it loses value, but when a heart is burnt, it gains in value."82
Affliction is a divine mercy that leads the spiritual wayfarer and helps one
transcend many veils. Witnessing the beloved on the screen of the heart is the
constant persecution of the lover by the beloved and is how the lover drinks
nourishment from the cup of his heart. As al-Ghazali writes, "Since love
is affliction, its nourishment in knowledge is from the persecution which the
beloved performs."83 Indeed, "the perpetuity of witnessing
[the beloved] appears in the perpetuity of affliction."84
The central terms in Ahmad al-Ghazali's discussion of
the relationship between the lover and the beloved are beauty (husn) and
love (‘ishq). Without the latter there can be no lover, and without the
former there is no beloved. Love is the seed of the lover's attributes, and
beauty is the seed of the beloved's attributes. But as Nasrollah Pourjavady
observes in his commentary on the Sawanih:
Seen from the point of view of the
Absolute they are but one. The Ultimate Reality . . . has both these seeds in
itself in perfect union. In fact it is one seed which will branch out in the
forms of the beloved and the lover. The branch leading to the form of the
beloved is husn and the one leading to the form of the lover is love.85
To support this observation, Pourjavady cites a passage
from Husn va-‘ishq by the Sufi master Nur Ali Shah Isfahani (d.
1212/1798):
People of mystical knowledge say that husn
is the final cause of creation and love constitutes husn's foundation.
Moreover, it is obvious to everyone in possession of Intellect that husn
is nothing other than love. Though they have two names, they are one in
essence.86
For Ahmad al-Ghazali, "the beginning of love is
this, that the seed of beauty is planted in the ground of the heart's seclusion
by the hand of witnessing."87 Such is the beginning of the
affair of love because that beauty is the means whereby the lover witnesses the
manifestation of Absolute Love in the delimited form of the beloved. The beauty
of each thing is called by al-Ghazali "the brand of creation." This
beauty is the secret face which faces Absolute Love and by virtue of which all
things truly exist. For if they did not have a face turned toward the Absolute,
there would be no way for them to derive their existence from it:
The secret face of everything is the
point of its connection, and a sign hidden in creation, and beauty is the brand
of creation. The secret face is that face which faces love. So long as one does
not see that secret face, he will never see the sign of creation and beauty.
That face is the beauty of and there remains the Face of thy Lord
(55:27). Other than it there is no face, for all that is upon it passes away
(55:26).
And that face is nothing, as you know.88
In witnessing the beauty of the beloved, the
lover-wayfarer is thus witnessing manifestations of the Divine. Addressing this
same point, Fakhr ad-Din Traql says that the face is the meaning or reality (mana)
of a thing that is "the self-disclosure of God" (tajalli Allah).89
He then addresses the reader:
O friend, when you know that the meaning
and reality of things is His Face, then you will say, "Show us things as
they are"90 until you see clearly that
In everything there is a sign
Indicating that He is one.91
But it is only the human being and, moreover, only the
heart of the human being that is able to perceive the Divine countenance in
beauty and thus able to read these signs. In this way, the beloved is entirely
dependent on the lover for its beauty to be fully realized; otherwise, it would
not be beloved:
The eye of beauty looks away from its
own beauty, for it cannot find the perfection of its own beauty except in the
mirror of the love of the lover. In this way beauty must have a lover so that
the beloved can eat nourishment from its own beauty in the mirror of love and
the seeking of the lover. This is a great secret and the secret of many
secrets.92
Bearing in mind the previous discussion of the heart,
beauty assumes a form on the screen of the lover’s heart by which a particular
aspect or attribute of love is revealed as the beloved. From this perspective,
only the lover is truly derived from love because the whole of the affair of
love is the reflection of the beauty of the beloved on the screen of the
lover’s heart. Since the beloved is in fact reflections of beauty within the
heart, it is from his own heart that the lover drinks the nourishment that is
said to have been drunk from the beloved. Regarding the derivation of love from
the lover and the derivation of love from the beloved, al-Ghazali writes:
The name of the beloved is borrowed in
love and the name of the lover is the reality in love. The derivation of the
beloved from love is a metaphor and is calumny. In reality derivation belongs
to the lover, for he is the locus of the realm of love and its mount. But the
beloved definitely has no derivation from love.93
In the early phases of love it appears that love derives
from the beloved, but in reality all love is derived from the lover. The whole
of the affair is an inward journey. The many phases of the relationship between
the lover and the beloved can be understood as the manner in which Love is
loving Itself through the manifestation and self-disclosure of Its own beauty
within the heart of the lover.
Although beauty is the means whereby the lover witnesses
the beloved, beauty in and of itself is beyond the beloved and does not turn
toward creation. Considered in this light, witnessing the beloved is
provisional and witnessing beauty itself is to see directly with the eye of the
heart. Nonetheless, witnessing beauty through the intermediary of the beloved
marks advancement on the spiritual path, though it is still only a stage of
relativity and contingency. In alluding to this al-Ghazali writes:
The glance of beauty is one thing and
the glance of belovedness is another. The glance of beauty has no face toward
an other and has no connection with what is outside. But as for the glance of
belovedness, amorous gestures, flirting, and coquetry, that is a reality which
derives its support from the lover; without him they will find no way.94
As the glance of beauty "has no face toward an
other and has no connection with what is outside," it cannot be witnessed
by the lover while the duality of lover and beloved remains. So long as there
is duality between the lover and the beloved, the lover must endure the trials
of flirting and coquetry that come from the glance of belovedness, or rather
from the divine manifestations of the attributes of Love on the screen of the
lover’s heart. For al-Ghazali, the flirting and coquetry are what result in the
many states of spiritual wayfaring, such as expansion (bast) and
contraction (qabd), sorrow and happiness, and separation (firaq)
and union (wisal), all of which are defined in relation to an opposite.
In enduring these colorations, the wayfarer is, nonetheless, moving closer to
the perfection of love and beauty. Shaykh al-Ghazali likens this process to
cooking: "O chivalrous one! The glance of belovedness in beauty and the
glance of beauty must be like salt in the pot, in order that the perfection of
saltiness be connected to the perfection of beauty."95 Only the
fully cooked and seasoned heart—that is to say, the heart that is spiritually
mature—is able to perceive the fullness of pure beauty beyond the interplay of
lover and beloved.
Once Love has descended into the world, it begins to
seek itself through the love of the lover. The love realized within the lover
pertains to the second beginning by which the path of ascent from the created
temporal order to endlessness is traveled. For love to reach fulfillment along
the path of ascent requires four stages: (1) that wherein one loves what is
other than the beloved; (2) that wherein one loves what pertains to the beloved
and is attached to it; (3) that wherein one loves only the beloved; and (4)
that wherein one is immersed in the ocean of Love, beyond all duality. Though
separable in theory, these stages are not always distinct from one another in
practice. As the lover-wayfarer travels the path, he will fluctuate, sometimes
residing completely in the witnessing of the beloved only to return again to
love its shadows. Only when the lover has become completely immersed in the
oneness of Love is he beyond ascending and descending—increase and decrease.
The following section examines these stages in ascending order.
Even when one loves what is other than the beloved, his
love is for the one single beloved, though he may not be aware of this. As
Traql writes, all forms of love are the same in substance:
It is not fit to love anything other,
rather it is impossible. Because whatever they love after essential love, whose
necessary cause is not known—whether they love beauty or doing what is
beautiful (ihsan)—these two could not be other than it.96
But unlike IraqI and his brother Abu Hamid, Ahmad
al-Ghazali does not discuss this initial phase of love. Those who have already
devoted themselves to spiritual wayfaring have done so because they are
cognizant of the fact that there is only one beloved. This initial awareness is
thus assumed to be the starting point, and the Sawanih focuses upon the
subtleties of the multifaceted relationship between the lover and the beloved,
since the phases of this relationship are the phases of the spiritual path.
Contrast
Between the Lover and the Beloved
So long as they exist, the lover and the beloved are
bound to each other in a continuous interplay of union and separation. Both are
derived from love, but each manifests different qualities. They are in fact
polar opposites:
The beloved is the beloved in every
state, thus self-sufficiency is its attribute. And the lover is the lover in
every state, thus poverty is its attribute. The lover always needs the beloved,
thus poverty is always his attribute. And the beloved needs nothing, for it
always has itself. Therefore, self-sufficiency is its attribute.97
So long as his heart is not fully "roasted,"
the lover-wayfarer must fully embrace the reality of his poverty in the face of
the beloved so that he ceases to believe that he exists through his own self.
As al-Ghazali writes, “To be self through one’s own self is one thing, and to
be self through one’s beloved is another. To be self through one’s own self is
the unripeness of the beginning of love."99 While the lover is
in this state of unripeness, he continues to love for himself, even though his
love is directed toward the beloved: "The beginning of love is such that
the lover wants the beloved for his own sake. This person is a lover of himself
through the intermediary of the beloved, but he does not know that he wants to
use her on the path of his own will."100 Even his desire to
find the beloved or to advance on the spiritual path can be a hindrance, since
such desire can be a deleterious reaffirmation of self. Desire may in some way
help to initiate this path, but in later stages, one must be free of all desire
and allow the path to unfold. Seen from the end of the path, "Desire is
entirely calumny. Calumny is entirely deficiency. Deficiency is entirely shame.
And shame is entirely opposed to certainty and recognition and is the same as
ignorance."101 Nonetheless, "desire has two faces: one is
its white face and one is its black face. That face which is turned toward
generosity is white and that face which is turned toward claiming worthiness,
or the calumny of claiming worthiness, is black."102 In so far
as the lover believes there is something within him which is other than the
sheer poverty and blameworthiness which he has received from love, his desire
is black, for he continues to believe he is a lover through himself. He can
have desire for mercy from the beloved, but eventually even this must be
eradicated through the pain of love.
When the lover-wayfarer remains in the unripeness of
love where he seeks the lover for himself, he thinks that this relationship
with the beloved is one of comfort and ease. But as mentioned in the discussion
of the heart, this is not the reality of love. The more mature, or
"cooked," lover-wayfarer becomes aware that pain and hardship are
central to love, for "suffering is what is essential in love and comfort
is borrowed."103 The relationship between the lover and the
beloved is one of pain and hardship because they are always two and duality
necessarily implies opposition. As Ahmad al-Ghazali states:
Know that the lover is an adversary, not
a companion, and the beloved is also an adversary, not a companion, since
companionship has been bound to wiping away their traces. So long as there is
two-ness and each self is a self through itself, adversaries will be absolute.
Companionship is in unification. Thus it will never happen that the lover and
the beloved become companions of one another, for that they must not be. The
suffering of love is entirely from this, for companionship will never be.104
From this perspective, ease and comfort are the
desiderata of an unripened or uncooked self. So long as the lover seeks after
them, he is at the mercy of his limitations, fluctuating between the realities
of love and his illusory desires:
Love comes and goes; it has increase,
decrease, and perfection; and the lover has states in it. In the beginning he
may deny it, then he may submit to it. Then he may be disgraced and again take
to the path of denial. These states change according to the moment and the
individual: sometimes love increases and the lover denies it; sometimes love
decreases and the one who possesses it denies the decrease.105
Thus increase and decrease slowly break the illusions of
independence and show the lover the relativity of his self, preparing him to
accept the absoluteness of love; "For love must open the castle of the
lover to have a house for itself within, so that the lover becomes tame and
surrenders."106 Through the trials of this path, love subdues
the lover, bringing him from his illusory self to his true self. Alluding to
this stage of the path, the Shaykh writes, "Affliction and oppression are
castle-conquering, its mangonel is the baseness of your you-ness until you
become it."107
Until love has subdued the lover through pain,
affliction, and oppression, the lover remains the son of the moment, subject to
whatever it decrees:
Whatever edict the moment has he must
follow the edict of the moment's color: the moment paints the lover according
to its color and the edict will belong to the moment. In the path of
annihilation from self, these edicts are wiped out and these opposites are
removed, because they are a gathering of covetousness and defect.108
It is at this point between being a self through one's
own self and being drawn to the beloved that the lover begins to obtain some
knowledge (‘ilim). Such knowledge is from "observing a form which
has been fixed within" the heart through the reflections of love's
attributes in the form of the beloved. From the perspective of wayfaring,
observing such forms upon the screen of one’s heart is progress, but from the
perspective of perfection, it is still a limitation. For the state of
perfection is beyond the duality implied by knowledge; rather perfection can
occur only when the lover is completely immersed in love. In juxtaposing
knowledge and the perfection that lies beyond it, al-Ghazali writes:
So long as love has not taken hold
completely, something from the lover remains, such that he brings a report
about it back with the externality of knowledge so that he may be informed. But
when it takes over the realm [of the wayfarer’s heart] completely, nothing
remains of the lover to give a report in order to derive nourishment from it.109
The lover who is not yet immersed in love continues to
be enraptured by the images that flash upon the screen of his heart and to
progress until he sees the beloved in all things. This is still what al-Ghazali
refers to as the beginning of love. It is, nonetheless, beyond the stage
wherein the lover loves the beloved for the lover’s self alone. In this second
phase, "wherever he sees a likeness of this affair, he brings it back to
the beloved,"110 meaning that he relates all things back to the
beloved rather than to himself. He now loves what is related to the beloved,
seeking consolation from it. Then "the sword of the beloved’s
jealousy" falls, cutting him off from all that is other than the beloved.
Union between the Lover and the Beloved
The beloved, though superior to the lover in principle,
is dependent on him for its own existence in the here and now. As the Shaykh
expresses it:
As regards the reality of the affair the
beloved has no profit or loss from the lover. But as regards the wont (sunnah)
of love’s generosity, love binds the lover to the beloved. Through the
connection of love, the lover becomes the locus of the beloved’s gaze in every
state.111
This occurs because "the love of the lover is real
and the lover of the beloved is the reflection of the shining of the lover’s
love in [the beloved’s] mirror."112 When the lover witnesses
the beloved, this can stir up the aforementioned "white face" of
desire by which he advances on the path. Here "agitation arises within
him, because his being is borrowed and has a face toward the qiblah of
non-being. His existence becomes agitated in ecstasy, until he sits with the
reality of the affair. Yet he is still not completely cooked."113
That the lover is not yet cooked means that he has not yet matured in love.
Such immaturity arises from the fact that one has not surrendered completely,
and is thus a hypocrite in love:
So long as he is still himself, he is
not free of hypocrisy and he still fears blame. When he has become tame, he has
no fear and has been saved from every kind of hypocrisy.
The hypocrisy with the beloved is
that the light of love shines within him and hides the outward, to the extent
that for a while he hides love from the beloved, and while hiding from her,
loves her. But when the defect withdraws and surrender comes, the light of love
also shines upon his face, for his whole being has been lost in the beloved.114
When the lover has become lost in the beloved, he has
arrived at "union." "This is that step where the lover knows the
beloved is perfection and seeks unification, and whatever is outside of this
will never be satiated."115 Here the reality of love appears,
and
When the reality of love appears, the
lover becomes food for the beloved. The beloved does not become food for the
lover, because the lover can be contained in the craw of the beloved, but the
beloved cannot be contained in the craw of the lover.116
Now that the lover has given himself completely to his
beloved, he becomes the beloved:
For one moment he becomes his own
beloved, this is his perfection. All of his flying and circumambulating were
for this one moment. When shall this be? Before this we have explained that the
reality of union is this—one hour the attribute of "being fire"
welcomes him and soon sends him out through the door of "being ash."117
From one perspective, the lover is contained within the
beloved; from another perspective, he is even more the beloved than the
beloved: Here, where the lover becomes more the beloved than the beloved the
wonders of the attachments of connection are prepared, on condition of the
non-attachment of the lover with himself. Love’s connection will reach to the
place where the lover claims that he himself is the beloved: "I am the
Truth" and "Glory be to me" are this point.118 And if
he is in the midst of banishment, separation, and unwantedness, he imagines
that he is indispensable and that he himself is the beloved.119
But as seen before, such proclamations are not considered
by Ahmad al-Ghazali to be the full maturity of love; for they pertain to union
between the lover and the beloved. But separation is more exalted than union in
so far as there is a union beyond separation, meaning that after union the
lover continues to bear the fullness of love through having realized union, but
the lover no longer needs to be with the beloved in order to realize and
manifest the fullness of love:
Separation is beyond union by a degree
because so long as there is no union there is no separation, for it is
connected to it. In reality union is separation from self, just as in reality
separation is union with self, except in defective love where the lover has
still not been completely cooked.120
In fact, just as all of existence can be seen as a play
of lover and beloved, so too, can it be seen as an intricate interplay of
separation and union. The lover is the means of separation and the beloved is
the instrument of union:
Of all that the lover can have there is
nothing that can become the means of union. The beloved can have the means of
union. This is also a great secret, for union is the level of the beloved and
her right. It is separation which is the level of the lover and his right. Thus
the existence of the lover is the means of separation and the existence of the
beloved is the means of union.121
While it is not directly evident in the text, separation
is beyond union because union on the plane of duality is illusory. There is not
even true familiarity:
The beloved never becomes familiar with
the lover, and at that moment that he considers himself to be closer to her and
her to be closer to him, he is farther,122 because the sultanate is
hers, and "the sultan has no friend." The reality of familiarity is
to be at the same level, and this is impossible between the lover and the
beloved, because the lover is all the earth of baseness and the beloved is all
the sky of exaltedness and grandeur.123
To realize the reality of separation is thus beyond
union because it is to perceive the true nature of the relationship of the
lover and the beloved.
Pain is essential for the path because it is the
suffering of continuous separation from the beloved within one’s own breast. As
the pain of realizing separation from the many images of one’s beloved
increases, the lover is becoming closer to the reality of love: "Every
moment the lover and the beloved become more alien to each other; although love
is becoming more perfect, the alienation is becoming more."124
Pain occurs because the lover is more familiar with love itself than with the
beloved. The lover’s existence is derived from love and in relation to the
beloved he is always other: "Although the lover is familiar with love, he
has no familiarity with the beloved."125 Realizing the fullness
of love is thus to go from the separation before union with the beloved,
through union with the beloved, into the separation from the beloved that lies
beyond union: "When on the path of ripening he does not belong to himself
and arrives away from himself, then he has arrived beyond it [the beloved].
Then he arrives beyond himself with it [the beloved] and beyond it."126
At this stage pain does not decrease but rather becomes
complete, because the end of the path and the perfection of love lie in the
increase of affliction until there is no longer room for increase or decrease.
Thus the Shaykh asks rhetorically, "But when he becomes completely and
perfectly tame before love and the sultanate of love has taken over the realm
completely, how will increase and decrease have a way there?"127
The full perfection of love is attained when nothing but
love exists, such that all is perceived in its true nature as a modality of
love. Here the lover has moved beyond the illusions that arise from the
continuous play of lover and beloved. The lover-wayfarer is now immersed in the
complete love that has nothing to do with the contingencies of separation and
union. Of this stage Ahmad al-Ghazali writes, "Love Itself, in Its
essence, is far from these attachments and defects, for Love has no attributes
from union and separation. These are the attributes of the lover and the
beloved."128 The lover now realizes that union with the beloved
is the same as separation from the beloved: "Union and separation are one
for him, and he has passed beyond deficiencies and accidents."129
He has transcended the coloration (talwm) of moving from state to state
in the lover-beloved duality and is now in the fixity (tamkm) of love
wherein nothing of his own being remains:
Whatever leaves the lover in the
coloration of love, he finds the substitute for that from the beloved in the
fixity of love. But not everyone reaches this station, for this is quite a high
station in love. The perfection of fixity is that nothing has remained of the lover’s
being.130
Ahmad al-Ghazali maintains that all the states the lover
had previously experienced were modalities of complete love, bestowed upon him
as substitutes until he was fit for "the robe of love" itself. From
this perspective, all that he has ever received came to him "from the
beloved as replacements for the robe of love."131 Now that he
is fit for that robe, he has no need for the beloved qua beloved.
The lover-wayfarer who has attained to this level does
not cease to exist in the temporal world, but he is no longer subject to its
illusory limitations. Rather than being veiled by love’s names and attributes,
he now sees them for the self-disclosures of love that they are, for he is
beyond the delimitations of union and separation. As Shaykh al-Ghazali writes
of the one who has returned from immersion in the oneness of love:
When He brings him from himself into
Himself, his road to himself is from Him and by way of Him. Since his road to
himself is from Him and by way of Him, these properties do not come over him.
What would the properties of separation and union do here? When would receiving
and rejecting entangle him? When would expansion and contraction and sorrow and
happiness go around the court of His empire? As these verses say:
We
saw the structure of the universe and the source of the world.
And passed easily beyond cause and caused.
And that black light which is beyond the
point of la, We also passed beyond this; neither this nor that remains.
Here is the father of the moment (abu'l-waqt).
When he descends to the sky of the world he will be over the moment. The moment
will not be over him, and he will be free from the moment.132
The point of the la referred to in the third
verse is where the lam and alif are joined in the la (no)
of the first testimony of faith (shahadah)—la ilaha illa'Llah—No god,
but God. Ahmad al-Ghazali sees this la as the word of ultimate negation (nafi)
in which attachment to everything save God is obliterated. The point of the la
is the very essence of negation, for were it not for that point, the alif
and lam would not be joined. It is the archetype of annihilation (fana),
beyond separation and union. The black light is then an allusion to the
station of subsistence (baqa) in which one abides with the Divine alone,
beyond all dualities, all stations, and all states, what later Sufis refer to
as "the station of no station."133 Until one reaches the la,
one remains "a son of the moment" (ibn al-waqt), a slave to
the edicts of separation and union, expansion and contraction, sorrow and
happiness. But once in the black light of subsistence, the wayfarer is the
"father of the moment," for the edicts of coloration cannot bear the
effulgence of the black light. When the lights of all other colors are subsumed
in the black light, there can be no more coloration as occurs when the wayfarer
is subject to the vicissitudes of states and stations along the path. Regarding
this stage no knowledge can be obtained, because it is beyond all distinctions
and can be perceived or tasted only in the transpersonal depth of one’s being,
that is, in the heart when it has been brought into conformity with the spirit.
But although everyone has a heart, not everyone reaches the point where they
see with the heart and live in the heart. As Ahmad al-Ghazali writes:
Not everyone reaches this place, for its
beginnings are above all endings. How could its end be contained in the realm
of knowledge, and how could it enter the wilderness of imagination? This
reality is a pearl in a shell, and the shell is in the depths of the ocean.
Knowledge can reach no more than the shore. How could it reach here?134
It is no coincidence that in writing of the black light
that is beyond all else Ahmad al-Ghazali uses an expression similar to that
which he uses to describe love. Love, he writes, "is free of this and of
that," and the black light beyond the la is where "neither
this nor that remain." Both mark the end of the path where all is immersed
in the beginningless and endless oneness of Love that transcends all dualities.
It is the end beyond all ends and the beginning before all beginnings.
The end beyond all ends and the beginning before all
beginnings is that which Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali strived to reach his entire
life and to which he hoped to help others attain through his writings, sermons,
and personal counsel. In the Sawanih he accomplishes this task through
an allusive discussion of love, beauty, the spirit, and the heart. In at-Tajrid
fi kalimat at-tawhid he focuses upon dhikr and its progressive
penetration through the heart and the spirit to the inmost core. In his Majalis
he enjoins dhikr but concentrates more on recognition (irfan) as
a means of spiritual attainment. These various ways of envisaging the Sufi path
do not necessarily represent developments or changes in Ahmad al-Ghazali's
perspective. Rather, they are different ways of expressing the same fundamental
understanding of reality and the means of attaining it and of trying to convey
some small taste of it to others in order to inspire them to wayfare upon the
Sufi path. Like most Sufis of the medieval period, Ahmad al-Ghazali maintained
that observance of Shariah was not complete without realization of haqiqah
(reality) and that realization of haqiqah must be grounded in observance
of Shariah. Unlike his more sober sibling, he left the definition of the
particulars of Shariah to others, focusing instead on the haqiqah and
the tariqah through which the haqiqah can be attained. As such,
the overall purpose of his extant writings is spiritual guidance.
For over nine hundred years, Ahmad al-Ghazali's words
have been regarded by seekers in the Persianate world, especially Iran and
India, as a summons to the spiritual path. In this small way, Ahmad al-Ghazali
achieved at least one of his goals. The nature of his writings implies to many
Sufi practitioners that he had also attained the other goal—immersion in the
reality of Love that fully transcends the duality of lover and beloved. While
he employs various modes of expressing Sufi teachings, his unique and lasting
contribution lies in the discussion of love in the Sawanih. Were it not
for this text, Ahmad al-Ghazali's contributions to the Sufi tradition might not
merit extensive investigation, and he would remain almost completely in the
shadow of his older brother. His role as a Sufi Shaykh and his place within
several Sufi silsilahs would remain of importance for the study of
various Sufi orders. But in the absence of the Sawanih, his place in
Sufi silsilahs might also be diminished, since it was often through the
teaching of this seminal text that he came to be revered by later generations
in the Persianate world. When the Sawanih is taken into consideration,
Ahmad al-Ghazali emerges as a highly original thinker, whose teachings
regarding love, though mostly condensed within a single brief text, altered the
course of Persian Sufi literature.
As demonstrated in Chapter 4, the Sawanih marks a
new phase in discussions of love within the Sufi tradition. As a result of this
new formulation, "Ahmad al-Ghazali is today generally regarded as the
foremost metaphysician of love in the Sufi tradition."1 The Sawanih
is one of several Persian texts that emerge in the first quarter of the
sixth/twelfth century, the others being the Rawh al-arwah of Sam‘ani, Maybudi's
Kashf al-asrar, and ‘Ayn al-Qudat's Tamhidat. Love as the focus
of Sufi discourse and the goal of spiritual attainment had existed in various
forms expressed by many Sufis before these texts emerged. But the works of
Ahmad al-Ghazali, Maybudi, Sam‘ani, and ‘Ayn al-Qudat present Love as the
Ultimate Reality from which all else derives and outline the whole of the Sufi
path as an intricate play between loverness and belovedness that is eventually
subsumed in Love Itself. Several passages in Maybudl's Kashf make it
clear that he was familiar with the Sawanih, though as William Chittick
has demonstrated, Maybudi was more directly influenced by ‘Abdallah Ansari and
Sam‘ani.2 Nonetheless, it is likely that Sam‘ani was also familiar
with the Sawanih even if he does not quote directly from it. The
question of the relationship between these texts merits further investigation.
At this stage it is clear that together they mark a significant watershed in
the development of the Persian Sufi literary tradition, a phase that gave rise
to such luminaries as ‘Attar, Rumi, and Hafiz.
Due to its brevity and the alluring nature of its
allusive style, the Sawanih appears to have had a more discernible
influence over time than have Rawh al-arwah and Kashf al-asrar.
Regarding the significant impact of Ahmad al-Ghazali's literary style, Leili
Anvar observes,
In a deeper sense Ghazali .
. . remedies the narrowness of language by transmitting verbal expression into
visionary experience. Rather than letting us merely hear about what love is, he
makes us behold its various aspects through visual imagery, providing
descriptions that resemble what came to be known in later works by Persian
poets as ‘divine flashes’ (Lamaat). Ghazali’s insistence on this
visionary aspect of love, in which the radiance of the Beloved’s beauty is the
source of inspiration, soon became the founding principle of the tradition of
the Persian mystical ghazal, which reached the absolute perfection of
its lyrical art with Hafiz.3
Given the importance of Ahmad al-Ghazali's contributions
to the history of Persian Sufi literature, a clearer understanding of his
corpus has been required for some time. As demonstrated in the first chapter,
most of the works attributed to him are most likely not of his pen. For many of
these texts, the confusion arises from cataloguing errors resulting from the
relative obscurity of Ahmad b. Muhammad at-Tusi and the similarity of his name
and that of Ahmad b. Muhammad al-Ghazali. For most texts, this matter is not
significant because the texts remained unpublished and no scholars have
analyzed them in discussions of Ahmad al-Ghazali. The misattribution of Bawariq
al-ilma1 that was perpetuated in Western scholarship by James
Robson has, however, resulted in an unfortunate situation wherein the majority
of scholarly discussions regarding Ahmad al-Ghazali have centered on the
discussions regarding sama contained in the Bawariq. Removing
this dimension from discussions of Ahmad al-Ghazali allows us to focus more
squarely on his actual teachings.
A proper understanding of the parameters of Ahmad
al-Ghazali’s corpus and his unique contributions also provides a solid
foundation for comparing many aspects of the Ghazali brothers’ teachings,
especially those regarding love and dhikr. Some Muslim philosophers such
as Ayn al-Qudat al-Hamadani and Ibn Tufayl (d. 581/1185-6) maintained that Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali had never revealed the full extent of his teachings.4
As Ibn Tufayl writes, "I have no doubt that our teacher al-Ghazali was
among those who reached this sublime goal and enjoyed the ultimate bliss.
Nonetheless, his esoteric books on mysticism have not reached us."5
Such assertions are supported by Abu Hamid’s own writings, as he sometimes
maintains that certain teachings should be "left under the cover of dust
until the wayfarers stumble upon it"6 and that when approaching
such teachings in writing "the reins of the pen must be drawn in."7
In contrast Ahmad al-Ghazali was far less reticent. Like Maybudi and Sam’ani,
he allows that the most sublime truths can be discussed so that wayfarers on
the Sufi path might benefit from them. This is apparent in the nature of
Ahmad's discourse and in statements such as this previously cited passage:
Sometimes an earthen vessel or a glass
bead is put in the hand of a novice until he becomes a master artisan; but
sometimes a precious, shining pearl that the master's hand of knowledge does
not dare touch, let alone pierce, is put into his ignorant hand to pierce.8
Writing with the intention of placing these teachings
within the grasp of wayfarers at all stages along the path, Ahmad al-Ghazali
rarely retreats into the calculated discourse of a theologian or a philosopher.
Rather, as Eve Feuillebois-Pierunek observes, "Each poem"— one could
even say each sentence—"is an expression of a spiritual ‘moment,' or
sentence carved out of realization of a mystical truth."9 It is
in this vein that Shaykh Ahmad al-Ghazali can say of his own writings, "In
the hearts of words lie the edges of a sword which cannot be seen except by
inner vision (basirat-i batini)."10
Introduction
1.
For a
study of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's place as a "reviver" of Islamic moral
life and the importance of his The Revival of the Religious Sciences, see
Kenneth Garden, The First Islamic Reviver: Abu Hamid al-Ghazali and His
Revival of the Religious Sciences (Oxford/New York: Oxford University
Press, 2014). The best overview of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's teachings is found in
Eric Ormsby, Ghazali: The Revival of Islam (Oxford: Oneworld, 2008). For
an example of the manner in which the Ihya’ is still seen as a model for
reviving aspects of Islamic life and thought, see Hamid Algar, Imam Abu
Hamid Ghazali: An Exponent of Islam in Its Totality (Oneonta, NY: Islamic
Publications International, 2000). Particularly noteworthy is the manner in
which Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's magnum opus, The Revival of the Islamic
Sciences, continues to serve as the basis for Islamic spiritual life in
parts of the Hadramawt in Yemen.
2.
William C.
Chittick, Divine Love: Islamic Literature and the Path to God (New
Haven/London: Yale University Press, 2013), xii.
3.
For the
place of the Sawanih in the Sufi love tradition, see Chapter 4 of this
study and Joseph Lumbard, "From Hubb to Tshq: The
Development of Love in Early Sufism," The Oxford Journal Of Islamic
Studies, vol. 18, no. 2, April 2008, 345-385. While 'Abdallah Ansari's Mahabbat
Nama and Munajat also speak extensively of the love of God, Ansari
does not provide a complete metaphysics of love as do Ghazali and Sam'ani.
4.
Leonard
Lewisohn, introduction to Hafiz and the Religion of Love in Classical
Persian Poetry, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (London: I.B. Taurus, 2010), xxii.
5.
Leili
Anvar, "The Radiance of Epiphany: The Vision of Beauty and Love in Hafiz's
Poem of Pre-Eternity," in Hafiz and the Religion of Love in Classical
Persian Poetry, 124
6.
For a full
exposition of this aspect of the Sawanih, see Chapters 4 and 5 of this
study.
7.
Seyyed
Hossein Nasr, in foreword to William C. Chittick, Divine Love: Islamic
Literature and the Path to God (New Haven/London: Yale University Press,
2013), viii. In a previous publication, Nasr wrote, “With the Sawanih begins an
extremely rich spiritual tradition, leading to that elusively subtle treatise
by Ruzbihan, the Abhar al-'ashiqin—The Lovers' Jasmine, and on down to Fakhr
al-Din ‘Iraqi (d. 688/1289)”; Introduction to The Rise and Development of
Persian Sufism, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (London/New York: Khaniqahi
Nimatullahi Publications, 1993), 7.
8.
For a view
of the initiatic chains that are said to have come through both Ahmad
al-Ghazali and Abu Najib as-Suhrawardi, see J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi
Orders (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), insert between 30 & 31
and the diagram of Sufi orders in the back of Ahmad Mujahid's Majmu‘ah-yi
athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali (Tehran: Tehran University Publications,
1979; reprint 1997).
9.
Shihab
ad-Din Abu Hafs ‘Umar as-Suhrawardi, ‘Awarif al-ma‘arif (Cairo: Maktabat
al-Qahirah, 1393/1973), 69. The relationship between Ahmad al-Ghazali and
as-Suhrawardi is examined more fully in Chapter 1.
10.
For a
study of ‘Awarifal-ma‘arifand the history of the Suhrawardiyyah, see
Erik S. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition:‘Umar al-Suhrawardi and the
Rise of the Islamic Mystical Brotherhoods (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2008).
11.
Saiyid
Athar Abbas Rizvi, A History of Sufism in India, vol. 1 (New Delhi: New
Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers, 2003 [originally published in 1978]).
12.
“Suhrawardiyyah,”
in The Encyclopaedia of Islam (hereafter cited as EI), 9:784-786.
13.
Muhammad
Isa Waley, "Najm ad-Din Kubra and the Central Asian School of Sufism (The
Kubrawiyyah),” in Islamic Spirituality II: Manifestations, ed. S.H. Nasr
(New York: Crossroad Publication Company, 1991), 81. ‘Abd ar-Rahman Jami lists
all three as Kubra's instructors in Sufism, but only lists Qasri as the one who
bestowed the Sufi mantle (khirqah) upon him; Nafahat al-uns,
421-422. J. Spencer Trimingham writes that Kubra received his first khirqah
from Ruzbihan, but that his real training took place under Qasri, who also gave
him a khirqah; Sufi Orders, 55.
14.
For a
brief history of the orders that flowed from the Kubrawiyyah, see Sufi
Orders, 56-57. For a history of the Dhahabiyyah, see Richard Gramlich, Die
schiitschen Derwischorden Persiens, Erster Teil: Affiliationen (Wiesbaden:
Franz Steiner, 1965), chap. 1.
15.
For the
best account of this commentary and its various stages of development under
different Kubrawiyyah authors, see Jamal J. Elias, The Throne Carrier of
God: The Life and Thought of ‘Ala’ ad-Dawla as-Simnani (Albany, NY: SUNY Press,
1995), 203-206.
16.
This text
has been translated into English with an excellent introduction by Hamid Algar,
The Path of God's Bondsmen from Origin to Return (Delmar, NY: Caravan
Press, 1982).
17.
Najm
al-qur’an is also known as Tafsir najm
al-qur’an, at-Ta’wilat an-najmiyyah, and Tafsir bain al-qur’an (A
Commentary on the Inner Meaning of the Quran). Simnani's introduction to
the commentary is known by the name Maila‘ an-nuqat wa-majma‘ al-luqat.
18.
Hermann
Landolt, “Der Breifwechsel zwischen Kasani und Simnani uber Wahdat
al-Wugud," in Landolt, Recherches en Spirituality Iranienne (Tehran:
Institut Fragais de Recherche en Iran, 2005), 246-300; idem, "Simnani on
wahdat-al-wujud," Collected Papers on Islamic Philosophy and Mysticism,
ed. M. Mohaghegh and H. Landolt (Tehran, 1971), 93ff.
19.
See The
Throne Carrier of God, 2, 162.
20.
For a
history of the Ni'matallahi silsilah, see Richard Gramlich, Die
schiitschen Derwischorden Persiens, Erster Teil: Die Affiliationen, chap.
2; Javad Nurbaksh, "The Nimatullahi," in Islamic Spirituality II:
Manifestations, 144-161.
21.
Shams
ad-Din Ahmad Aflaki, Manaqib al-‘arifin, ed. Tahsin Yazici (Tehran:
Dunya-yi Kitab, 1362/1983); translated by John O'Kane as The Feats of the
Knowers of God (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2002), 700.
22.
Manaqib
al-‘arifin, 1:219; Feats of the Knowers,
152.
23.
Feats
of the Knowers of God, 154.
25.
Jan Rypka,
History of Iranian Literature (Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1968); Edward
Granville Brown, A Literary History of Persia: From Firdawsi to Sa‘adi (New
York: Charles Scribner's & Sons, 1906).
26.
Nasrollah
Pourjavady, Sulfan-i tariqat (Tehran: Intisharat-i Agah, 1358 HS/1979),
75.
27.
Omid Safi,
"The Sufi Path of Love in Iran and India," in A Pearl in Wine
(New Lebanon, NY: Omega Publications, 2001), 224.
28.
The full
extent of commentaries on the Sawanih is a subject that merits further
investigation. Three of these commentaries—one from the ninth/fifteenth century
by an unknown author, one by ‘Izz ad-Din Mahmud Kashani (d. 730/1330), and one
by Husayn Naguri (d. 901/1496)—have been published in Sharh-i Sawanih: seh
sharh bar Sawanih al-‘ushshaq-i Ahmad Ghazali, ed. Ahmad Mujahid (Tehran:
Soroush Press, 1372 HS).
29.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Makatibat-i Khwajah Ahmad Ghazali ba ‘Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani,
ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady (Tehran: Khanqah-i Ni‘mat Allahi, 1356/1978).
30.
‘Ayn
al-Qudat Abu’l-Ma‘ali ‘Abdallah b. Muhammad b. ‘Ali al-Miyanagi Hamadani,
Tamhidat, ed. ‘Afif ‘Usayran (Tehran: Tehran
University Press, 1962), 96-141.
31.
For an
examination of the commentaries on the Tamhidat in India, see Firoozeh
Papan-Matin, Beyond Death: The Mytsical Teachings of ‘Ayn al-Qudat
al-Hamadhani (Leiden/Boston: E. J. Brill, 2010), 161-190.
32.
Gerhard
Bowering, "‘Ayn al-Qozat Hamadani," in Encyclopaedia Iranica,
2:140-143.
33.
Fakhr
ad-Din ‘Iraqi, Lama‘at, ed. Muhammad Khwajavi (Tehran: Intisharat-i
Mula, 1413 AH), 45; translated by W.C. Chittick and Peter Lamborn Wilson as Fakhr
ad-Din ‘Iraqi: Divine Flashes (New York: Paulist Press, 1982), 70. I have
consulted the translation of Chittick and Wilson, but altered it slightly.
34.
Lama‘at,
49; Divine Flashes, 73.
35.
‘Abd
ar-Rahman Jami, Ashi‘‘at al-Lama‘at (Qum: Bustan-i Kitab, 1383/2004).
36.
Pourjavady,
Sultan-i tariqat, 78.
37.
Ahmad
Ghazali, Risalat at-tayr, ed. Ahmad Mujahid; Majmuah, 213.
38.
Seyyed
Hossein Nasr, Islamic Art and Spirituality (Albany: SUNY Press, 1987),
100.
39.
Nur ad-Din
'Abd ar-Rahman Jami, Nafahat al-uns min hadarat al-quds, ed. Mahmud
'Abidi (Tehran: Intisharat-i Ittila'at, 1380 HS), 596.
40.
This is
according to the silsilah provided by J. Spencer Tnmmgham, in Sufi
Orders (insert between 56-57).
41.
For the
relation between Baha’ ad-Din Zakariyya and Fakhr ad-Din 'Iraqi, see Divine
Flashes, 37-46.
42.
Safi,
“Sufi Path of Love in Iran and India,” 252-258.
43.
'Abd
al-'Aziz Wa'izi, Ta’rikh-i Habibi, (Hyderabad: N.P., 1368 A.H.), 65; cited in
Syed Shah Khusro Hussaini, Sayyid Muhammad al-Husayni-i Gisudiraz: On Sufism
(Delhi: Idarah-i Adabiyat-i Delli, 1983), 23.
44.
S.A.A.
Rizvi, A History of Sufism in India, 1:171.
45.
Craig
Davis, “The Yogic Exercises of the 17th Century Sufis,” in Theory and Practice
of Yoga: Essays in Honour of Gerald James Larson, ed. Knut A. Jacobsen
(Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2005), 315.
46.
For 'Ayn
al-Qudat Hamadani’s influence in India, see Papan Matin, “'Ayn al-Qudat
al-Hamadhani, His Work and His Connection with the Early Chishti Mystics,” Comparative
Studies in South Asia, Africa and the Middle East, 30:3 (2011), 341-355.
47.
Hishmatallah
Riyadi, Ayat-i husn va-ishq (Tehran: Kitabkhanah-yi Salih, 1369
HS/1989).
48.
Tracts
on Listening to Music: Being Dhamm al-malahi, by
Ibn Abi’d- Dunya and Bawariq al-ilma', by Majd ad-Din at-Tusi al-Ghazali,
trans. and ed. James Robson (Hertford: Stephen Austin & Sons, 1938).
49.
This
information is from a discussion with Pourjavady in which he stated that he was
unwilling to republish Sultan-i tariqat without substantially rewriting
these sections. His many discussions of Ahmad al-Ghazali in subsequent articles
provide a more refined analysis of Ahmad al-Ghazali’s teachings.
50.
E.g.,
Kenneth Avery, A Pyschology of Early Sufi sama: Listening and Altered States
(London/New York: Routledge, 2004). The Bawariq is referenced on
multiple occasions throughout Avery’s study of sama', and treated as a
text by Majd ad-Din al-Ghazali; also see Jean-Louis Michon, “Sacred Music and
Dance in Islam,” in Islamic Spirituality II, Manifestations, ed. S.H.
Nasr (New York: Crossroad, 1991), 478-479; Syed Shah Khusro Hussaini’s Sayyid
Muhammad al-Husayni-i Gisudiraz (721/1321-825/1422) on Sufism also provides
an extended analysis of Gisu Diraz’s teachings that draws extensively from Bawariq
al-ilma under the misunderstanding that it was a text of Ahmad al-Ghazali
for whose Sawanih Gisu Diraz had an expressed affinity; see 110-174;
Firoozeh Papan-Matin also draws extensively on the Bawariq in her
analysis of sama in Beyond Death; see 192-209.
51.
Helmut
Ritter, art., “al-Ghazali, Ahmad,” EI2 2:1041.
52.
Richard
Gramlich, Ahmad Ghazzali, Gedanken uber die Liebe (Wiesbaden: Franz
Steiner, 1976).
53.
Gisela
Wendt, Ahmad Ghazzali: Gedanken uber die Liebe (Amsterdam: Castrum
Peregrini, 1978).
54.
Nasrollah
Pourjavady, Sawanih: Inspirations from the World of Pure Spirits; The Oldest
Persian Sufi Treatise on Love (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986).
55.
Richard
Gramlich, Der reine Gottesglaube: das Wort des Einheitsbekenntnisses: Ahmad
Al-Ghazzalis Schrift At-Tagrid fi kalimat at-tawhid (Wiesbaden: Otto
Harrasowitz, 1983); Muhammad ad-Dahbi, La citadelle de Dieu (Le
depouillement dans la parole de l'Unite) (Paris: Les Editions Iqra, 1995).
Chapter 1: Sources for the Ahmad al-Ghazali
Tradition
1. Shams ad-Din Ahmad Aflaki, Manaqib
al-arifin, 1:219; trans. John O'Kane, 152.
2. There are many printed editions of the Sawanih.
The four most reliable editions are Sawanih, ed. Ahmad Mujahid, in Majmuah-yi
athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali, 89-173; Sawanih, ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady
(Tehran: Intisharat-i Bunya va Farsang-i Iran, 1359 HS/1980); Sawanih,
in Ganja-yi Irfan, ed. Hamid Rabbani (Tehran: Ganjinah, 1973); Sawanih,
ed. Helmut Ritter (Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Danishgahi, 1368 HS/1989). English
translation, Nasrollah Pourjavady, Sawanih: Inspirations form the World of
Pure Spirits, The Oldest Persian Sufi Treatise on Love (London: Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1986).
The edition by Pourjavady is based on that of Ritter and
supplemented by additional manuscripts that predate those on which Ritter
relied. Though five editions were published between those of Ritter and
Pourjavady, none surpassed Ritter's. The edition of Pourjavady can in some ways
be seen as a supplement to Ritter's, since he builds on Ritter's extant
apparatus. Mujahid's edition has a critical apparatus adopted in part from
other editions. Rabbani's edition does not provide an apparatus, but in several
instances Rabbani provides readings that make more sense than those of
Pourjavady or Ritter. For this study, I will therefore rely on the editions of
Pourjavady, Ritter, and Rabbani. They will be cited in this order, and the
discrepancies in paragraph order will be noted by placing the paragraph number
in parentheses after each citation. All translations are my own. In rendering
the Sawanih, I am indebted to Pourjavady's translation for guidance and
have placed the page number for his translation after the backslash.
3. There are two critical editions of this text
and one English translation: Dastan-i murghan, ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady
(Tehran: Anjuman-i Shahanshahi- yi Falsafa-yi Iran,1355 HS/1976); ed. Muhjahid,
in Majmubh, 69-85; English translation by Peter Avery as an appendix to
his translation of Farid ad-Din ‘Attar's Speech of the Birds (Cambridge:
Islamic Texts Society, 1998), 551-560.
4. For the relationship between ‘Ayn al-Qudat and
both Ghazali brothers, see Hamid Dabashi, Truth and Narrative: The Untimely
Thoughts of ‘Ayn al-Quzat Hamadhani (London: Curzon, 1999), chap. 7. Though
highly problematic, this study still provides a good discussion of ‘Ayn
al-Qudat's personal, intellectual, and spiritual relationship with the Ghazali
brothers.
5. There are four critical editions of the Risalah-yi
‘Ayniyyah: (1) in Armaghan, 8:1 (1308 HS), 8-42; (2) under the title
Taziyane sulttk, ed. Nasrollah Taqawi (Tehran, 1319 HS); (3) under the
title Maw‘ize (Exhortation), ed. Javad Nurbakhsh (Tehran, 1352 HS); (4)
in Majmu‘ah, ed. Mujahid, 175-214.
6.
There are
two critical editions of the letters between Ahmad and ‘Ayn al-Qudat: Makatibat-i
Khwajah Ahmad al-Ghazali ba ‘Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, ed. Nasrollah
Pourjavady (Tehran: Khanagah-i Ni‘matallahi, 1356 HS/1978); ed. Muhjahid, in Majmu‘ah,
461-509. In addition, two brief letters directed to spiritual aspirants have
been edited: "Maktubi az Ahmad al-Ghazali,” ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady, in Javadin-i
khurd, 1 (AH 1354), 32-37; ed. Mujahid in Majmu‘ah, 248-260.
7.
Carl
Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur (Leiden: E. J. Brill,
1937-49), 2:756.
8.
No. 159/5 in E. Blochet, Catalogue des
manuscrits persans de la Biblioteque Nationale (Paris, 1905), 1:123.
9. Majmu‘ah, 1-68; Bahr
al-haqiqah, ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady (Tehran: Imperial Iranian Academy of
Philosophy, 1977).
10.
Nasrollah
Pourjavady, from English introduction to Bahr al-haqiqah, 3.
11.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Majalis-i Ahmad Ghazali, ed. with Persian translation by
Ahmad Mujahid (Tehran: Tehran University Press, 1998), 22.
12.
For the
centrality of dhikr in Sufi practice, see G.C. Anawati et Louis Gardet, Mystique
Musulman (Paris: Libraire Philosophique J. Vrin, 1968), 187-260; Gerhard
Bowering, "Dekr,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica 7:229-233; William
Chittick, "Dhikr,” in Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade,
et al. (New York: Macmillan, 1987), 4:341-344; Chittick, Sufism: A Short
Introduction (Oxford: Oneworld, 2000), 52-60; Louis Gardet, "Dhikr,”
in EI2; Martin Lings, What is Sufism? (London: Unwin
Hyman, 1981), 74-91; Joseph Lumbard, "The Function of Dhikrullah in
Sufi Psychology,” in Knowledge is Light: Essays in Honor of Seyyed Hossein
Nasr, ed. Zailan Moris (Chicago: ABC International Group, 1999), 251-274;
Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill:
University of North Carolina Press, 1975), 167-178.
15.
There is
one noncritical printing of at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid (Cairo:
Sharikat Maktaba wa-Matba‘ Mustafa al-Babi al-Halabi, 1386/1967). This treatise
has also been translated into German by Richard Gramlich, Das Wort des
Einheitsbekenntnisses (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1983), and into French by
Muhammad ad-Dahbi, La citadelle de Dieu . . . (Le depouillement dans la
parole de l'Unite) (Paris: Iqra, 1995).
16.
Taj ad-Din
Abu Nasr 'Abd al-Wahhab b. 'All as-Subki, at-Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra
(Cairo: 'Isa'l-Babi al-Halabi, 1964-76), 6:60.
17.
The manuscripts
of this text are identified as a work of Ahmad al-Ghazali by Brokelmann (GAL,
1:422; Suppl. 1:748). This attribution derives from the biographical
tradition, which attributes the treatise to Ahmad al-Ghazali from the seventh
century forward. The manuscripts I have examined do not attribute the text to
Ahmad al-Ghazali, but to Abu Hamid al-Ghazali: MS Berlin, Wetzstein 99
(Ahlwardt no. 1708), and MSS Princeton, Yahuda 838 and 3717 (Mach no. 2164). A
shorter abridgement of the Ihya’ catalogued under the title Lubb
al-Ihya’ (The Kernel of the Revival) provides no attribution to either
Ahmad al-Ghazali or Abu Hamid al-Ghazali: MS Yale University, Beinecke Library,
Salisbury 38, foll. 1-45 (1025/1616), and MS Berlin, Wetzstein II 1807, foll.
120-146b (Ahlwardt 1707).
18.
There are
two noncritical printed editions of this work: Bombay: n.p., 1894 and New
Delhi: n.p., n.d., under the title Ahsan al-qisas (The Best of Stories).
It is also known by the titles Tafsir surat Yusuf al-musamma bi Aurrat
al-bayda’, Bahr al-ishq fi tafsir surat Yusuf, and Tafsir surat Yusuf.
There is a Persian translation by Mirza Abu'l-Hasan Faqihi, Kitab-i asrar-i
ishq ya Aarya-i mahabbat (Tehran: n.p., AH 1325).
20.
Khayr
ad-Din az-Zirikli, al-Alam: Qamus tarajim li-ashhar ar-rijal wa'n-nisa’ min
al-arab wa'l-mustaribin wa'l-mustashriqin (Beirut: Dar al-'Ilm
li'l-Malayin, 1992), 1:215. It should also be noted that 'Umar Rida Kahhalah
refers to Ahmad al-Ghazali by the honorific “Shihab ad-Din.” He is the only
biographer to do so. The only apparent source for this is the erroneous
attribution of the Bawariq to him, though Kahhalah does not list it
among his writings: Mujam al-mu'allifm tarajim musannifi al-kutub
al-arabiyyah (Damascus: al-Maktabah al-'Arabiyyah bi'dimashq, 1957), 1:147.
21.
Kenneth
Avery, A Pyschology of Early Sufi sama: Listening and Altered States,
175. For other studies that treat the Bawariq as a work by Ahmad
al-Ghazali, see note 50 in the introduction to this volume.
22.
Cairo, Dar
al-Kutub al-Misriyyah (Tasawwuf, 377), 9 folios, 1138/172526; Paris,
Bibliotheque Nationale (De Slane, 4580), 12 folios, seventeenth century.
23.
Berlin,
Staatsbibliothek (Ahlwardt, 5505, foll. 17a-36b), 750/1349.
24.
Ahmad
Mujahid, “Introduction,” Ahmad at-Tusi, Sama wa-futuw- wah, ed. Ahmad
Mujahid (Tehran, 1360 HS), 17-18.
25.
Robson, 97
(English translation); 155 (Arabic text).
27.
'Ayn
al-Qudat al-Hamadani, Tamhidat, 251.
28.
Ibn Hajar
al-'Asqalani, Lisan al-mizan (Hyderabad: Matba'at Majlis Da’irat
al-Ma'arif an-Nizamiyyah, 1329/1911), 1:293.
30.
Berlin Or.
1726; Fez, Qarawiyyin 1467, from Brockelmann, GAL, 2:756.
31. Ibn al-Mustawfi Sharaf ad-Din al-Irbili, Ta’rikh
Irbil: Nabahat al-balad al-khamil bi-man waradahu min al-amathil (Baghdad:
Dar ar-Rashid li'n-Nashr; Wizarat Thaqafa wa'l-A'lam al-Jumhuriyyah
al-'Iraqiyyah, 1972), 1:37.
33.
Al-Irbili,
Ta’rikh Irbil, 1:37.
34. Ahmad b. Muhammad at-Tusi, Sirr al-asrar fi
kashf al-anwar, ed. 'Abd al-Hamid Dalih Hamadan (Cairo: ad-Dar al-Misriyyah
al-Lubnaniyyah,1408/1988).
35.
Berlin
Or., oct. 3707 (AH 1109).
36.
Cairo I,
368 (AH 1257); Aleppo, Halab Library (AH 997).
38. Vatican, Arabo 299, foll. 80v-113v; for a full
list of works attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali see Mujahid, MajmuTah,
263-266.
39. Were the use of the name Ahmad at-Tusi the
result of an effort to remove Ahmad al-Ghazali from the deep shadow cast by his
brother, as some who are ignorant of the nature of the Islamic
historiographical tradition have proposed, it would be more widely attested in
both the manuscript tradition and the Sufi tradition. The name Ahmad at-Tusi
does not appear in any of the extant manuscripts of at-Tajrid fi kalimat
at-tawhid or of the Sawanih that I have perused. While I have not
seen all of these manuscripts, of the dozens I have examined, all that do state
the name of the author in the beginning employ the name Ahmad b. Muhammad
al-Ghazali or a variation of it. Furthermore, Ahmad al-Ghazali is never
referred to as Ahmad at-Tusi by his greatest admirers, the Sufis.
40. Mana is an important
technical term of Sufi discourse, often juxtaposed to surah (form).
While ma‘na can be understood to mean, "meaning," it also has
the connotation of what we understand by the word "reality" in modern
usage. Thus I sometimes render the term "meaning," sometimes
"reality," and sometimes write "meaning or reality" in
order to convey the broader range of ma‘na.
41. This saying is often attributed to the Prophet
in Sufi texts but is most likely not an actual hadith of the Prophet.
42.
Ahmad b.
Muhammad at-Tusi, Sirr al-asrar fi kashf al-anwar, 23-25.
43.
At-Tusi, Manhaj
al-albab, 47a-b.
44. While Abu Hamid al-Ghazali also has extensive
discussions of faqr in book 34 of the Ihya’ ulum al-din and in
book 34 of Kimiya as-saadah, there is nothing in Abu Hamid's writings
that is at all reminiscent of the discussion of poverty found in the works
discussed here. As Anthony F. Shaker, the translator for book 34 of the Ihya’,
"The Book of Poverty and Asceticism" (Kitab al-faqr wa'z-zuhd),
wrote when asked about any resemblances between the passage here cited from Sirr
al-asrar and Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's "Book of Poverty and
Asceticism" from the Ihya’, "Despite superficial resemblances,
this text does not fit well at all with K. al-faqr wa'l-zuhd"
(email correspondence, November, 18, 2013).
45.
at-Tusi, Sirr
al-asrar, 50-54.
46.
Employing
the presence of philosophical terminology as one of, but not the only, criteria
for excluding works from Ahmad al-Ghazali's oeuvre is not the same as the use
of this criterion to evaluate the authenticity of works attributed to Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali. In the case of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, we know from his biography
that he studied philosophy and from his extant works that he employed
philosophical terminology. In the case of Ahmad, we have no authenticated works
that employ philosophical terminology, and there is no discussion of his having
studied philosophy. For an example of the over-application of philosophical
terminology as a criteria for discounting the authenticity of the works of Abu
Hamid, see H. Lazarus-Yafeh, “Philosophical Terminology as a Criterion of
Authenticity in the Writings of al-Ghazzali,” Studia Islamica, 25
(1966), 111-121, and W. Montgomery Watt, "A Forgery in al-Ghazali's Mishkat?"
Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 81.1 (1949), 5-22
47.
Mujahid,
introduction to Sama wa futuwwah, 10-11, cited from Risalah fi fadl
al-faqr wa’l-fuqara’.
48.
Mujahid,
introduction to Sama wa futuwwah, 7-12.
49.
Mujahid, Majmuah,
265; Pourjavady, Sultan-i tariqat, 277.
51.
'Aziz
Allah 'Attaridi Quchani, Makhtutat-i Farsi dar Madinah Munawwarah, 32,
MS 305.
53.
Farid
ad-Din 'Attar, Ilahi Nameh, ed. Helmut Ritter (Istanbul: Matba'a-yi
Ma'arif, 1940), 359-360.
54.
'Ayn
al-Qudat Abu'l-Ma'ali 'Abdallah b. Muhammad b. 'Ali al-Miyanaji Hamadani, Zubdat
al-haqa’iq, ed. 'Afif 'Usayran (Tehran: Tehran University Press, 1961), 7.
55.
Hamadani, Tamhidat,
280; Hamadani, Namaha-yi Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, ed. 'Afif 'Usayran and
'Alinaqi Munzavi (Tehran: Bunyad-i Farhang-i Iran, 1961), 2:51.
58.
Shihab
ad-Din Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi, Awarif al-maarif (Cairo: Maktabat
al-Qahirah, 1393/1973), 69.
59.
Najm
ad-Din Razi, Mirsad al-ibad min al-mabda’ ila'l-ma'ad, ed. Muhammad Amin
Riyahi, 7th ed. (Tehran: Sharikat-i Intisharat-i 'Ilmi va Farhangi, 2000), 297.
60.
See Mirsad
al-Abad, 308, 427.
61.
This story
is attributed to Sadr ad-Din Qunawi by Hafiz Husayn Karbala’i in Rawdat
al-jinan wa jannat al-janan, ed. Ja'far Sultan al-Qara’i (Tehran: Bungah-i
Tarjumah va Nashr-i Kitab, 1344-49 HS/1965-70), 2:342. It is originally found
in the treatise Tabsirat al-mubtadi’ wa’tadhkirat al-muntahi (Clarifications
for Beginners and Reminders for the Advanced). But as William Chittick
argues in the appendix to his translation of several texts attributed to Sadr
ad-Din Qunawi, this treatise is most likely by Nasir (or Nasir) ad-Din Qunawi
(or Juwayni or Khu’i) who lived around the same time as Sadr ad-Din Qunawi and
may have known him; see Chittick, Faith and Practice of Islam (Albany:
State University of New York Press, 1992), 255-259.
The quotation is from a famous hadith: Ahmad b.
Hanbal, 2:285, 2:539; Muslim, Kitab al-Birr, 33; Ibn Majah, Kitab
az-Zuhd, 9 [Wensinck, 3:439b]: “Verily God does not look at your bodies,
nor at your forms, but He looks at your hearts.” Another variation—“God does
not look at your forms, nor at your works, but He looks at your hearts and your
states”—is cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in Majalis, 4, 9. “Verily God does
not look at your forms, He only looks at your hearts” is cited in at-Tajrid
fi kalimat at-tawhid, 5.
62.
Shams
ad-Din at-Tabrizi, Maqalat-i Shams-i Tabriz, ed. Muhammad 'Ali Muwahhid
(Tehran: Intisharat-i Khwarazmi, 1990), 320; trans., William Chittick, Me
and Rumi (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2004), 146.
63.
Maqalat-i
Shams-i Tabriz, 320.
65.
Ibid.,
320, trans. Chittick, 146.
67.
For an
analysis of the stories regarding the practice of shahid-bazi in the
biographies of Ahmad al-Ghazali, see Nasrollah Pourjavady, “Stories of Ahmad
al-Ghazali ‘Playing the Witness'” in Reason and Inspiration in Islam:
Theology, Philosophy and Mysticism in Muslim Thought, ed. Todd Lawson
(London: I.B. Tauris, 2005), 200-220. For other sources, see the discussion
regarding the metaphysical understanding of this practice in Chapter 3.
68.
Julian
Baldick demonstrates that the ‘Ushshaq Namah was almost certainly
written by a contemporary of Fakhr ad-Din 'Iraqi by the name of 'Ata’i. Among
the most convincing arguments he presents is that a note in a
ninth/fifteenth-century manuscript of 'Iraqi's Diwan attributes the ‘Ushshaq
Namah to 'Ata’i; evidence that the poem's dedication reflects different
political leanings than those for which 'Iraqi is known; and the inclusion of ghazals
that are markedly inferior to those of 'Iraqi. See Julian Baldick, “The
Authenticity of 'Iraqi's 'Ushshaq-nama,” Studia Iranica, 1973: 2, 67-78.
71.
Nasrollah
Pourjavady, “Stories of Ahmad al-Ghazali ‘Playing the Witness,'” 205.
72.
Maqalat-i
Shams-i Tabriz, 618.
73.
A
reference to another section of the Maqalat in which it is stated that
Abu Hamid al-Ghazali sent Ahmad al-Ghazali a copy of adh-Dhakhirah fi ‘ilm
al-basirah and Lubab al-Ihya’ in order to help him refute those who
objected that the was not familiar with the “outward sciences.” Maqalat,
320-321; Chittick, 146-147.
74.
Maqalat, 325-326; my translation is a slight modification of that provided
by Chittick, Me and Rumi, 275-276.
75.
This silsilah
is found in an appendix to Ahmad Mujahid's Majmu‘ah, but he does not
cite a source.
76.
Nur ad-Din
'Abd ar-Rahman Jami, Nafahat al-uns min hadarat al- quds, 379-80; Siraj
ad-Din Abu Hafs 'Umar b. 'All b. Ahmad b. al-Mulaqqin al-Misri, Tabaqat
al-awliya’ (Cairo: n.p., 1393/1973), 102-104.
77. Abu’l-Faraj 'Abd ar-Rahman b. 'All b. al-Jawzi,
al-Muntazam fi’t- ta’rikh al-muluk wa'l-umam (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub
al-'Ilmiyyah, 1413/1992), 17:136-38; Kitab al-qussas wa’l-mudhakkirin,
ed. and trans. Merlin S. Swartz (Beirut: Dar al-Machreq, 1986), 104-106
(Arabic), 184-188 (English).
78. A famous hadith scholar and biographer,
sometimes cited by biographers as Abu Sa'id instead of Abu Sa'd and sometimes
as Ibn as-Sam'ani instead of as-Sam'ani. Perhaps a casualty of the Mongol
invasion, as-Sam'ani’s Dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad has only been preserved in
excerpts, the extent of which indicates the importance of this work.
Nonetheless, his major works on hadith scholars, al-Ansab and at-Tahbirfi'l-mu'jam
al-kabir, have been fully preserved. See EI2,
8:1024-1025.
79.
Ibn
al-Jawzi, al-Muntazam fi’t-ta’rikh, 9:178.
80. Ibn al-Jawzi, al-Muntazam, 17:238; Kitab
al-qussas wa’l-mudhakkirin, 101-102 (Arabic), 187 (English).
81.
'Abd
ar-Ra’uf b. Taj al-'Arifin al-Munawi, al-Kawakib ad-durriyyah fi tarajim
as-sadah as-sufiyyah, ed. 'Abd al-Hamid Salih Himdan (Cairo: al- Maktabat
al-Azhariyyah li’t-turath, 1994), 1:650.
83. 'Abd al-Karim b. Muhammad ar-Rafi'i al-Qazwini,
at-Tadwin fi akhbar Qazwin, ed. Shaykh 'Aziz Allah al-'Attari (Beirut:
Dar al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1987), 2:251.
85.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 380.
86. Ibid.; Ghiyath ad-Din b. Hamam ad-Din
Khwandamir al-Husayni, Ta’rikh habib as-siyar fi akhbar afrad bashar
(Tehran: Kitabkhaneh-yi Khayyam, 1333 HS), 2:319.
87. Al-Hafiz Muhibb Allah Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad b.
Mahmud Ibn an-Najjar al-Baghdadi, al-Mustafad min dhayl ta’rikh Baghdad
(Beirut: Dar al- Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1978), 80-81.
88. Ibn an-Najjar, 80; al-Mustawfi, 1:35, 38
(slight variation); adh- Dhahabi, Ta’rikh al-Islam wa-wafayat al-mashahir
wa'l-alam, Ed. 'Umar 'Abd as-Salam Tadmuri (Beirut: Dar al-Kitab al-'Arabi,
1415/1994), 35 (AH 501520): 129 (in the biography of Abu Hamid with no specific
attribution); Salah ad-Din Khalil b. Aybak as-Safadi, al-Wafi bi’l-wafayat,
ed. Youssef Najm (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1391/1971), 8:117; Muhammad
b. Shakir al-Kutubi, Uyun at-tawarikh, ed. Faysal as-Samir (Baghdad:
Wizarat al-A'lam, al-Jumhuriyyah al-'Iraqiyyah, 1397/1977), 12:177. The version
in the printed edition of Ibn an-Najjar is somewhat problematic. This
translation is taken from Ibn al-Mustawfi, who reports that it is transmitted from
as-Sam'ani (1:38).
89. Brackets added; in every instance where the
common expressions "al-ayah" after a Quranic verse, or "al-hadith"
or "al-khabr" after a hadith are used to indicate that
the entire verse or report is intended, I have entered the remainder of the
citation in brackets in order to fully convey the author’s intentions.
90. Ibn an-Najjar, 80; as-Subki, 1:61; Ibn
Khallikan, 1:86; 'Abd ar-Rahman Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 379; as-Safadi,
8:115; al-Kutubi, 12:175; al-Munawi, 1:650; Muhammad Ma‘sum Shirazi, Tara’iq
al-haqa’iq (Tehran: Kitabkhanah-i Barani, 1980), 2:650. These verses are
also found in Majalis-i Ahmad Ghazali (25), though not in the same
context.
91.
Al-Mustawfi
goes on to say that he found three of the verses recited by al-Ghazali in a diwan
of the Maghribi poet Abu'l-Qasim Muhammad b. Hani al-Maghribi (d. 362/972-973)
and in the book Unmudhaj shuTara’ al- maghrib by Ibn Sharaf al-Qayrawani
(d. 460/1067-68). But no extant works can be found to corroborate the
attribution of these verses to Abu'l-Qasim al-Maghribi; al-Mustawfi, 36.
92.
‘Umar Rida
Kahhalah, Mujam al-mu’allifin, 1:147; Khayr ad-Din az-Zirikli, al-Alam,
1:214.
93.
Taqi
ad-Din Abu ‘Amr ‘Uthman b. ‘Abd ar-Rahman Ibn as-Salah ash-Shahrazuri, Tabaqat
al-fuqaha’ ash-shafiiyyah (Beirut/London: Dar al-Basha’ir al-Islamiyyah,
1413/1996), 1: 340-397.
96.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid, 50. Although this saying is
attributed to Ahmad al-Ghazali in the tabaqat literature, it is most
likely drawn from the earlier Sufi tradition. It is attributed to the Sufi
Yahya b. Mu‘adh ar-Razi (d. 258/872) in Ibn al-‘Arabi's Jadhwat al-istila’
wa haqiqat al-ijtila’ (The firebrand of excitation and the reality of
contemplation; Landberg MS 64, Yale University, Beinecke Library, verso fourth
folio). However, the saying is not recorded in any of the biographical entries
for Yahya b. Mu‘adh. It is most likely that this saying was part of the Sufi
tradition as a variation on the noncanonical hadith, “In God there is a
representative from every destruction (talaf)" or he said “from
every one who vanishes,” cited by Abu Ibrahim Isma‘il b. Muhammad Mustamli in
his Sharh-i Taarruf li madhhab ahl-i tasawwuf, 1:819.
97.
Muhammad
b. Shakir al-Kutubi, Uyun at-tawarikh, ed. Faysal as-Samir (Baghdad:
Wizarat al-A‘lam, al-Jumhuriyyah al-‘Iraqiyyah, 1397/1977), 12:176.
98.
Salah
ad-Din Khalil b. Aybak as-Safadi, al-Wafi bi’l-wafayat, 8:116: “He whose
destruction is in God, his vicegerency is upon me."
99.
Taj ad-Din
as-Subki, at-Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 6:61.
100.
Ahmad Ibn
al-Mulaqqin al-Misri, Tabaqat al-awliya’, 102.
101.
Al-Munawi,
al-Kawakib ad-durriyyah, 1:649.
102.
For an
explanation of the abdal and other spiritual ranks, see Michel
Chodkiewicz, Seal of the Saints: Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine
of Ibn al-Arabi, trans. Liadain Sherrard (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society,
1993), chap. 7.
103.
Zakariyyah
b. Muhammad al-Qazwini, Athar al-bilad wa-akhbar al-ibad, ed. al-Imam
al-‘Alim (Beirut: Dar as-Sadir, 1960), 413.
106.
Ibn
Abi'l-Hadid, Sharh Nahj al-balaghah, ed. ash-Shaykh Hasan Tamim (Beirut:
Dar Maktabat al-Hayat, 1963), 1:101-102.
109.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Majalis-i Ahmad Ghazali, 13. This aspect of Ahmad
al-Ghazali's thought is examined more extensively in Chapter 4.
110.
Ibn Abi'l-Hadid,
Sharh Nahj al-balaghah, 1:101.
112.
For an
account of the Sufi position of Taassub ash-Shaytan as expressed by
al-Hallaj, Ahmad al-Ghazali, ‘Ayn al-Qudat, and others, see Peter J. Awn, Satan’s
Tragedy and Redemption: Iblis in Sufi Psychology (Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1983), chap. 3, “Iblis: Model of the Mystic Man.” This aspect of al-Ghazali's
thought is examined more extensively in Chapter 4.
113.
Ibn Hajar
Ahmad b. ‘Ali al-‘Asqalani, Lisan al-mizan (Hyderabad: Matba‘at Majlis
Da’irat al-Ma‘arif an-Nizamiyyah, 1329-31/1911-13), 1:293-294.
115.
Ibn
Abi'l-Hadid, Sharh Nahj al-balaghah, 1:102.
116.
Ibn
Khallikan, Wafayat al-a’yan, 1:86-87.
117.
Ibn
Khallikan, 1:86; al-Kutubi, 12:175; as-Safadi, 8:115; M. Baqir al-Musawi
al-Isfahani al-Khwansari, Rawdat al-jannat fi ahwal al-ulama’ wa's- sadat
(Beirut: 1411/1991), 1:285; Shirazi, 2:564; Ibn Kathir, 1:196; al-Misri, 102;
Jamal ad-Din ‘Abd ar-Rahman b. al-Hasan al-Isnawi, Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah (Baghdad:
n.p., 1391), 245.
118.
Ibn Qadi
Shuhbah, 1:280; ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Ahmad Ibn al-‘Imad, Shadharat adh-dhahab fi
akhbar man dhahab (Beirut: n.p., 1931), 4:60.
119.
Al-Kutubi,
Uyun at-tawarikh, 12:175-177; as-Safadi, al-Wafi bi'l- wafayat,
8:115-117.
120.
Kuthayyir
‘Azzah, Sharh Diwan Kuthayyir Azzah, 1:50; Ibn Abi'l- Hadid, 1:101;
as-Safadi, 8:112; al-Kutubi, 12:176.
121.
Ibn
al-Jawzi, al-Muntazam, 17:239.
122.
As-Safadi,
al-Wafi bi'l-wafayat, 8:115-116. The poem cited by al-Kutubi (12:176)
differs slightly in that fawqahu replaces furqatu in the last
hemistich, but this appears to be an error.
123.
‘Afif
ad-Din ‘Abdallah b. Asad b. ‘Ali al-Yafi‘i, Mir’at al-janan wa-ibrat
al-yaqzan fi ma’rifat ma yutbaru min hawadith az-zaman (Hyderabad: Da’irat
al-Ma‘arif an-Nizamiyyah), 3:224-325.
124.
As-Subki, Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah, 6:60-62.
125.
Ibid.,
6:51; al-Kutubi, 12:176; as-Safadi, 8:116. The accounts in the latter two works
differ from that translated only in that the account of Abraham precedes that
of ‘Ali.
129.
As-Subki,
6:62; al-Munawi, 1:650; al-Ghazali, Majalis, 20.
130.
Ibn
al-Mulaqqin al-Misri, Tabaqat al-awliya’, 102-104.
131.
This is a
noncanonical hadith qudsi often cited in Sufi literature. See
Abu'l-Qasim ‘Abd al-Karim al-Qushayri, ar-Risalah al-Qushayriyyah (Beirut:
Dar al-Khayr, 1413/1993), 366; and Abu'l-Hasan ‘All b. Muhammad ad-Daylami, Kitab
atf al-alif al-ma'luf ala1-lam al-mafuf, ed. J. C. Vadet (Cairo: L'Institut
Frangais d'Archeologie Orientale, 1962), 86.
132.
Ibn
al-Mulaqqin al-Misri, Tabaqat al-awliya’, 102.
134.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 419.
136.
Hafiz
Husayn Karbala’i Tabrizi, Rawdat al-jinan wa-jannat al-jinan, 2:339-343;
Husayn b. Hasan Sabzawari, Jawahir al-asrar (Lucknow: n.p., 1893),
40-42.
137.
The role
of philosophy and Sufism and the relationship between the two in the works of
Abu Hamid al-Ghazali is among the most contested discussions in the academic
study of Islamic philosophy. Contrary to recent studies of Treiger and Gardner,
I maintain that it is best to take Abu Hamid al-Ghazali at his word that he did
indeed come to see Sufism as the preeminent means of obtaining knowledge,
especially as this idea is reflected in many passages of the Ihya’. As
he writes in the Ihya’, “Abu Yazid and others used to say, ‘The knower (alim)
is not one who memorizes something from a book, for if he forgets what he has
memorized he becomes ignorant. Rather the knower is one who takes his knowledge
from his Lord, whenever He wills, without memorization and without study.' This
is Lordly knowledge to which there is allusion in His saying, transcendent is
He, We taught him knowledge from Our Presence (18:65). Although all
knowledge is from His Presence, yet some of it comes through the medium of
instructing human beings (talim) and we do not call that ‘Knowledge by
Presence' (ilm laduni), rather [knowledge by] Presence is that which is
opened in the secret of the heart without an external customary secondary cause
(sabab ma’luf min kharij)”: Ihya’ 'ulum ad-Din, n.e. (Beirut: Dar al-
Kutub al-‘Ilmiyyah, 1419/1998), 3:23. For the most recent discussion of this
issue, see Alexander Treiger, Inspired Knowledge in Islamic Thought:
al-Ghazali's Theory of Mystical Cognition and its Avicennian Foundation
(London/New York: Routledge, 2012); Kenneth Garden, The First Islamic
Reviver. For different treatments of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's classification
of the Islamic sciences, see Alexander Treiger, “Al-Ghazali's Classification of
the Sciences and Descriptions of the Highest Theoretical Science,” Divan
30.1 (2011), 1-32, and Osman Bakar, The Classification of Knowledge in Islam
(Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1998), chaps. 7-9.
138.
It appears
from the context that Awhad ad-Din Kirmani (d. 635/1238) is who is meant here,
especially since he was known for making shahid-bazi a central part of
his spiritual practice.
140.
Karbala’i
Tabrizi, Rawdat al-jinan wa-jannat al-jinan, 2:339.
142.
Ibid.,
2:340-41; al-Ghazali, Ayniyyah, ed. Ahmad Mujahid in Majmu'ah,
203-204.
143.
Al-Munawi,
al-Kawakib ad-durriyyah, 1:649-650.
147.
Sabzawari,
Jawahir al-asrar, 42.
148.
Muhammad
b. Muhammad b. al-Husayn al-Murtada az-Zabidi, Ithaf as-sadah (Cairo:
n.p., 1311), 1:8. In translating this passage I have drawn on the translation
of J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, 33.
149.
M. Baqir al-Musawi
al-Isfahani al-Khwansari, Rawdat al-jannat fi ahwal al-ulama’ wa's-sadat,
1:285-288.
152.
Khwandamir,
2:319; al-Khwansari, 1:288.
153.
'Umar Rida
Kahhalah, Mujam al-mu’allifin tarajim musannifil-kutub al-arabiyyah,
1:147.
154.
Shihab
ad-Din Abu 'Abdallah b. 'Abdallah Yaqut, Mu'jam al-buldan (Beirut: Dar
Beirut li't-tiba'ah wa’n-nashr, 1376/1957), 4:49-50.
155.
Yusuf b.
Qizoghlu Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi, Mir'at az-zaman (A.H. 495-654) by Shams ad-Din
Abu 'l-Muzaffar Yusuf ben Qizughlu ben 'Abdallah, commonly known by the surname
of Sibt ibn al-Jauzi; a facsimile reproduction of manuscript no. 136 of the
Landberg collection of Arabic manuscripts belonging to Yale university; ed.
James Richard Jewett (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1907), 73-74; Diya’
ad-Din Nasr Allah b. Muhammad Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil fi't-ta’rikh (Beirut:
1386/1966), 10:640.
156.
Shams
ad-Din Abu 'Abdallah M. b. Ahmad adh-Dhahabi, al-Tbar fi khabar man ghabar
(Beirut: n.p., 1985), 412-413; adh-Dhahabi, Ta’rikh al-Islam wa-wafayat
al-mashahir wal-adam (Beirut: n.p., 1415/1994), 35 (AH 501-20): 126-129;
adh-Dhahabi, Mizan al-itidal fi naqd ar-rijal, ed. 'Ali Muhammad
al-Bijawi (Beirut: Dar Ihya’ al-Kutub al-'Arabi, 1372/1963), 1:150.
157.
Sibt Ibn
al-Jawzi, Mir’at az-zaman, 61.
158.
Jamal ad-Din
al-Isnawi, Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah, 2:234; Ibn as-Salah, 1:397.
159.
Isma'il b.
'Umar ad-Dimashqi Ibn Kathir, al-Bidayah wa'n-nihayah fi't-ta’rikh
(Beirut: 1386/1966), 1:196.
160.
'Abd
al-Hayy Ibn al-'Imad, Shadharat adh-dhahab fi akhbar man dha- hab,
4:60-61.
161.
Muhammad
Ma'sum Shirazi, Tara’iq al-haqa’iq (Tehran: Kitabkhaneh- yi Barani,
1980), 2:564-568.
163.
Ibn
al-Jawzi, Kitab al-qussas wa'l-mudhakkirin, 101 (Arabic), 187 (English).
164.
For an
account of the rise of “Jama'i Sufism” and its increasingly important political
and intellectual role in Sunni Islam, see Marshall G.S. Hodgson, The Venture
of Islam (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1977), vol. 2, esp.
201-254.
Chapter 2: The Life and Times of Ahmad al-Ghazali
1.
The
significance of Daylami influence in this period has been detailed by Vladimir
Minorsky in La domination des Dailamites (Paris: E. Leroux, 1932).
2.
For a
study of the various methods employed by the Saljuqs to legitimize their rule,
see Omid Safi, The Politics of Knowledge in Premodern Iran: Negotiating
Ideology and Religious Inquiry (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 2006).
3.
Zahir
ad-Din Nishapuri, Saljuq-namah (Tehran: Kalala Khavar, 1953), 20;
Muhammad Rawandi, Rahat as-sudur, ed. Muhammad Iqbal (London: Luzac
& Co., 1921), 108; Khwandamir, Tarikh-i habib as-siyar, 2:311.
4.
C.E.
Bosworth, “The Political and Dynastic History of the Iranian World (A. D.
1000-1217),” in The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, ed. J.A. Boyle, vol. 5 of
The Cambridge History of Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1968), 45.
5.
Francis
Robinson, A Historical Atlas of the Islamic World Since 1500 (New York:
Facts on File, 1982), 26.
6.
Ibn
Kathir, al-Bidayah wa'n-nihayah fi't-ta’rikh, 12:139.
7.
See Daphna
Ephrat, “The Seljuqs and the Public Sphere in the Period of Sunni Revivalism:
The View from Baghdad” in The Seljuqs: Politics, Society and Culture,
ed. Christian Lange and Songul Mecit (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
2011), 139-156.
8.
C.E.
Bosworth, “Saldjukids,” in EI2, s.v.
9.
Ibn
al-Athir, al-Kamil fi't-ta’rikh, 10:33.
10.
Regarding
the establishment of fixed stipends, Ibn Khallikan credits Nizam al-Mulk with
this innovation: Ibn Khallikan, Kitab Wafayat al-a'yan, Ibn Khallikan's
Biographical Dictionary, trans. William Mac Guckin De Slane (Beirut:
Librarie du Liban, 1970), 1:414.
11.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 4:314.
12.
For a
study of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's role in the Saljuq support of Sunni Islam, see
Massimo Campanini, “In Defence of the Sunnism: al-Ghazali” in The Seljuqs:
Politics, Society and Culture, 228-239. For a brief overview of Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali's contributions to usul al-fiqh, kalam, philosophy,
and Sufism see Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1990; originally published 1975), 2:180-193.
13.
Frank
Griffel, Al-Ghazali's Philosophical Theology. Oxford/New York: Oxford
University Press, 2009, 24.
14.
Pourjavady,
Sultan-i tariqat, 10.
16.
Adh-Dhahabi, Ta’rikh al-Islam, vol. AH 501-520 (no. 35): 126; al-Subki, Tabaqat vol. 6, 193.
(6:193.10).
17.
For a
comprehensive account of the debate on the origin of this name and its proper
spelling—“Ghazali" or “Ghazzali”—see Ahmad Mujahid, Majmu'ah, 8-14
and Frank Griffel, “Al-Ghazali or al-Ghazzali? On a Lively Debate Among Ayyubid
and Mamluk Historians of Damascus,” in Islamic Thought in the Middle Ages.
Studies in Transmission and Translation in Honour of Hans Daiber. Ed. Anna
Ayje Akasoy and Wim Raven. Leiden: Brill, 2008, 101-112.
18.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 3:417. For an analysis of this passage and its
historical accuracy, see Frank Griffel, Al-Ghazali's Philosophical Theology
(Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2009),
20.
Adh-Dhahabi, Ta’rikh al-Islam, vol. AH 501-520 (no. 35): 127.
21.
Subki, Tabaqat,
5:204. This sentence reflects a quote that is cited by Abu Hamid al-Ghazali in
both Ihya’ ulum ad-Din (1:71.24-25; 1:84.2-3) and Mizan al-amal
(115; 343), where he attributes it to “one of the verifiers” (bad
al-muhaqqiqin).
22.
Griffel, Al-Ghazali's
Philosophical Theology, 26.
23.
Some
scholars have misread the primary sources as saying that Ahmad ar-Radhakani was
the pious friend entrusted with the care of the Ghazali brothers (e.g.,
Pourjavady, Sultan-i tariqat, 12). This, however, is not confirmed by
the sources. Unfortunately, this has become a common belief, even among some
historians. For a more comprehensive account of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's
education, see Griffel, Al-Ghazali's Philosophical Theology,
24.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 3:418.
25.
Pourjavady,
Sultan-i tariqat, 20.
26.
Roy
Mottahedeh, Loyalty and Leadership in an Early Islamic Society (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1980; repr., London: I.B. Tauris, 2001), 140.
27.
George
Makdisi, “Muslim Institutions of Learning in EleventhCentury Baghdad,” in Religion,
Law, and Learning in Classical Islam (Brookfield: Variorum, 1990), 10-12.
28.
R.
Brunschvig, "Perspectives,” in Unity and Variety in Muslim
Civilization, ed. G.E. von Grunebaum (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1955), 5.
29.
John L. Esposito,
Women in Muslim Family Law (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1982),
12.
30.
Marshall
Hodgson, Venture of Islam, 2:153.
31.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 2:142.
33.
Wael B.
Hallaq, "Was al-Shafi'i the Master Architect of Islamic Jurisprudence?,” International
Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 25 (1993): 595597; see also, Ahmed El
Shamsy, The Canonization of Islamic Law: A Social and Intellectual History
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013).
34.
A famous
story in Subki's at-Tabaqat ash-shafiiyyah (3:418) tells us that during
his return to Tus, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali was waylaid by bandits who stole all
his possessions. When al-Ghazali asked that the books be returned as they had
his knowledge and would be of no value to the bandits, they ridiculed him,
asking how it could be knowledge if it left him when his notes were gone. Stung
by the truth of this rebuke, al-Ghazali set out to memorize all he had learned
so that his knowledge would not leave him through exterior events. Regarding
the historical accuracy of this account, see Griffel, al-Ghazali's
Philosophical Theology, 27.
35.
For more
on Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni, see Tilman Nagel, Die Festung des Glaubens:
Triumph und Scheitern des islamischen Rationalismus im 11. Jahrhundert
(Munchen: C.H. Beck, 1988).
36.
For an
excellent translation and study of this work, see Aladdin M. Yaqub, Al-Ghazali's
Moderation in Belief (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013).
37.
Al-Ghazali,
at-Tajrid, 34; Gramlich, Der reine Gottesglaube, 27.
38.
'Abd al-Karim
al-Qazwini, at-Tadwin fi akhbar Qazwin, 2:251.
39.
Imad
ad-Din Muhammad b. Muhammad al-Katib al-Isfahani, Kitab Zubdat an-nusrah
wa'nukhbat al-usrah (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1889), 80.
40.
C.E.
Bosworth writes that Abu'l-Futuh al-Ghazali taught at the Tajiyyah madrasah in
Baghdad around 480-482. “The Political and Dynastic History of the Iranian
World (A.D. 1000-1217),” in The Cambridge History of Iran, 74.
That Ahmad al-Ghazali taught in the Tajiyyah is
confirmed by Ibn al-Jawzi (al-Muntazam, 17:237) and Ibn an-Najjar
(19:80), though the exact dates are not mentioned.
41.
In book 33
of the Ihya’, al-Ghazali writes that al-Farmadhi taught him obedience to
the Shaykhs, though the precise nature of their relationship is not certain.
42.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 376.
43.
Hamadani, Tamhidat,
280-281.
44.
Hamadani, Nameha-yi
Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, 2:51.
45.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 376, 379.
46.
Louis
Massignon, The Passion of al-Hallaj, trans. Herbert Mason (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1982), 2:164.
47.
Pourjavady,
Sultan-i tariqat, 40.
48.
Dabashi, Truth
and Narrative, 120.
49.
Hamid
Dabashi, “Historical Conditions of Persian Sufism during the Seljuq Period,” in
Classical Persian Sufism: From its Origins to Rumi, ed. Leonard Lewisohn
(London: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi Publications, 1993), 150.
50.
Al-Ghazali,
Majalis, 63-64.
51.
Shihab
ad-Din Ahmad Sam'ani, Rawh al-arwah fi sharh asma’ al- malik al-fattah,
ed. Najib Mayil Hirawi (Tehran: Shirkat-i Intisharat-i 'Ilmi va Farhangi,
1368/1989),168.
52.
'Abdallah
Ansari, "Chihil u daw fasl,” in Majmuah-yi rasa’il-ifarsi, ed.
Muhammad Sarwar Mawla’i (Tehran: Intisharat-i Tus), 22.
53.
Hodgson, Venture
of Islam, 1:393.
54.
Abu 'Abd
ar-Rahman as-Sulami, Tabaqat as-sufiyyah, ed. Nur ad-Din Shariba (Cairo:
Matba'at al-Madani, 1987), 440.
55.
Ibid.,
180; Abu Bakr Ahmad b. 'Ali al-Katib al-Baghdadi, Ta‘nkh Baghdad
(Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-'Arabi, 1966), 7:430-432.
56. Abu Nu'aym al-Isfahani, Hilyat al-awliya’,
ed. Mustafa 'Abd al-Qadir 'Ata’ (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1997),
10:274.
57.
Regarding
the relationship between Saljuq Sultans and Sufi shaykhs, see D.G. Tor,
“Sovereign and Pious: The Religious Life of the Great Seljuq Sultans,” in The
Seljuqs: Politics, Society and Culture, 39-62.
58.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 4:293-294, 3:369.
59.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 295.
60.
Richard Bulliet,
The Patricians of Nishapur (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1972), 151.
61.
Muhammad
Ibn Munawwar Mayhani, Asrar-i tawhid fi maqamat Shaykh Abi Said, ed.
Muhammad Rida Shafi'i Kadkani (Tehran: Mu’assisiy- eh Intisharat-i Agah, 1376
HS), 1:119; Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 373-374.
62.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 376. For more on the relationship between these two aspects of Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali’s activities in his final years, see Griffel, Al-Ghazali’s
Philosophical Theology, 49-58, and Garden, The First Islamic Reviver, 125-142.
63.
As William
Chittick writes of Sufism in the modern period: “Sufism became the scapegoat
through which Islam’s ‘backwardness’ could be explained. In this view Sufism is
the religion of the common people and embodies superstition and un-Islamic
elements adopted from local cultures; in order for Islam to retain its
birthright, which includes modern science and technology, Sufism must be
eradicated." William Chittick, “Sufism: Sufi Thought and Practice," Oxford
Encyclopedia of the Modern Islamic World, ed. John L. Esposito et al. (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 107.
64.
For a
detailed analysis of the protestant roots of current notions of mysticism, see
Bernard McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism: Origins to the Fifth Century,
vol. 1 of The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism
(New York: Crossroad, 1994), appendix 1.
65.
In
translating the terms ma’rifah and Irfan, I have chosen to follow
William Chittick in employing the more literal rendering, “recognition,"
rather than the more widespread translations, “gnostic" and
“gnosticism," especially in employing “recognition" for a more fluid
translation of the verbal form ‘arifalya‘rifu as “to recognize."
66.
For Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali’s own account of this crisis, see The Faith and Practice of
al-Ghazali, 58-63. For analysis of this account, see Garden, The First
Islamic Reviver, 56-59.
67.
Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 379-380; Husayn b. Hasan as-Sabzawari, Jawahir al-asrar, 42;
M. Baqir al-Khwansari, Rawdat al-jannat fi ahwal al-ulama’ wa-s- sadat,
1:285-288; Muhammad al-Murtada az-Zabidi, Ithaf as-sada, 1:8.
68.
For
various aspects of the relationship between the scholars and the Saljuq rulers
and viziers, see George Makdisi, “The Sunni Revival" in Islamic
Civilizations 950-1150, ed. D.S. Richards (Oxford, 1973), 155-168. Richard
Bulliet, Islam: the View from the Edge (New York, 1994), 101, 126-127,
146-148, proposes that this process was less a “revival" and more a
“recasting" that entailed a homogenization of Sunni religious life.
Bulliet’s interpretation is elaborated by Jonathan P Berkey in The Formation
of Islam: Religion and Society in the Near East 600-1800 (Cambridge, 2003),
189-202. For the more social dimension of these activities that
demonstrates the broad support for this Sunni homogenization, see Daphna
Ephrat, “The Seljuqs and the Public Sphere in the Period of Sunni Revivalism:
The View from Baghdad” in The Seljuqs: Politics, Society and Culture,
139-156.
69.
C.E.
Bosworth, “The Iranian World (A.D. 1000-1217),” in The Saljuq and Mongol
Periods, vol. 5 of The Cambridge History of Iran, 74.
70.
Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi, Mirat az-zaman, 61.
71.
Rashid
ad-Din Fadl Allah, Jami at-tawarikh, 2:259; Rawandi, Rahat as-sudur,
133.
72.
Al-Katib
al-Isfahani, Kitab Zubdat an-nusrah wa’nukhbat al-usrah, 61.
73.
Omid Safi,
The Politics of Knowledge in Premodern Iran, 69-70.
74.
Nizam
al-Mulk, The Book of Government and Rules for Kings, trans. Hubert Drake
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960), 163.
75.
Bernard
Lewis, The Assassins (New York: Basic Books, 1968), 47. Lewis bases his account
on the later Mongol era histories of 'Ata Malik Juvayni (1226-83), Ta’rikh-i
Jahan-gusha, and Rashid ad-Din Fadl Allah (ca. 1247-1318), Jami
at-tawarikh, who both had access to Isma'ili sources. Lewis does not appear
to have consulted most of the earlier accounts, and though he cites Marshall
Hodgson, he seems to ignore his more nuanced understanding wherein he states,
“most historians assumed that the Isma'ilis were in collusion with Nizam
al-Mulk’s enemies at court.” Hodgson, The Order of Assassins: The Struggle
of the Early Nizari IsmaTlis Against the Islamic World (The Hague: Mouton
& Co., 1955), 75.
76.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 3:13.
78.
Ibn
Khallikan, Kitab Wafayat al-ayan, Ibn Khallikan’s Biographical Dictionary,
1:415.
81.
Rawandi,
135; Zahir ad-Din Nishapuri, The History of the Seljuq Turks From The Jami
al-Tawarikh: An Ilkhanid Adaptation of the Saljuq-nama, trans. Kenneth
Allin Luther (London: Curzon, 2001), 62.
82.
Nishapuri,
History of the Seljuq Turks, 61-62.
83.
Nizam
al-Mulk, Book of Government and Rules, 194.
84.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 3:15.
85.
Mustafa
Mahmoud Abu-Sway, “al-Ghazali’s ‘Spiritual Crisis’ Reconsidered,” Al-Shajarah:
Journal of the International Institute of Islamic Thought and Civilization
1 (1980), 77-94.
86.
Garden, The
First Islamic Reviver, 29.
87.
Pourjavady,
Sultan-i tariqat, 14.
89.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 4:350.
90.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Majalis-i Ahmad Ghazali, 60.
91.
Sam'ani, Rawh
al-arwah, 396.
92.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali [attributed], Lubb al-ihya’, MS Princeton University, Garret
Collection 1079H, fol. 2.
93.
As-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-shafiiyyah al-kubra, 6:201.
94.
Ibn
al-Jawzi, al-Muntazam fi’t-ta’rikh, 9:178.
95.
Mujahid, Majmuah,
22; Pourjavady, Sultan-i tariqat, 15.
96.
‘Ayn
al-Qudat Hamadani, Zubdat al-haqa’iq, 7.
97.
Pourjavady
places this meeting in 513/1115 (Sultan tariqat, 16), while Ahmad
Mujahid relates Rahim Farmanish's argument that this meeting occurred in
515/1117 (Majmuah, 22). Considering ‘Ayn al-Qudat's belief that the
spiritual path is not followed without the guidance of a shaykh (Zubdat
al-haqa’iq, 72), it appears that Pourjavady's position may be more
accurate. The exact date of this encounter cannot, however, be pinpointed.
98.
Ibn
al-Jawzi, al-Muntazam, 17:237.
100.
Abu Hafs
‘Umar as-Suhrawardi, Awarif al-maarif, 69.
101.
Ibn
Mustawfi al-Irbili, Ta’rikh Irbil, 24.
103.
Zakariyya
b. Muhammad al-Qazwini, Athar al-bilad wa-akhbar al-ibad, 415.
104.
For an
account of Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's continued interactions with the Saljuq
Sultans and their viziers and the political intrigue involved, see Griffel, Al-Ghazali’s
Philosophical Theology, 31-59, and Garden, The First Islamic Reviver,
chaps. 4 and 5.
105.
The only
discussion of Ahmad al-Ghazali's relationship with the Saljuq sultans is found
in Mujahid, Majmuah, 102-103.
106.
‘Abd
al-Karim al-Qazwini, at-Tadwin fi akhbar Qazwin, 2:251.
107.
Brockelmann
and Massignon follow ‘Abd ar-Rahman Jami in listing 517/1123: Brockelmann, Geschichte
der arabischen Litteratur, 1:756; Massignon, Passion of Hallaj,
2:227.
108.
Minu Dar,
672-673; cited by Mujahid in the introduction to Majmuah, 112.
109.
Joseph
Lumbard, Field Notes, July 15, 2001.
Chapter 3: Ahmad al-Ghazall's Spiritual
Practice
1.
Leigh Eric
Schmidt, “The Making of Modern ‘Mysticism,' " Journal of the American
Academy of Religion 71.2 (2003), 273.
2.
For more
extensive discussions of the state of Sufism and other traditions in this
period, see Jacqueline Chabbi, “Reflexions sur le sou- fisme iranien
primitif," Journal Asiatique 266, no. 1-2 (1978): 37-55; Chabbi,
"Remarques sur le development historique des mouvements ascetiques et
mystiques au Khurasan," Studia Islamica 46 (1977): 5-72; Alexander
Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short Introduction (Leiden: E. J. Brill,
2000), chaps. 4-5; Margaret Malamud, "Sufi Organizations and Structures of
Authority in Medieval Nishapur," International Journal of Middle East
Studies 26 (1994): 427-442; Bernd Radtke, “Tasawwuf," EP;
Radtke, “Theologen und Mystiker in Hurasan und Transoxanien," Zeitschrift
der Deutschen Morgenlandischen Gesellschaft 136 (1986): 537-569.
3.
Nile
Green, Sufism: A Global History (Oxford/Malden: Wiley- Blackwell, 2012),
8.
4.
Al-Ghazali,
at-Tajrid, 64-65.
5.
This
appears to be a variation of a saying attributed to 'All b. Abi Talib,
“Encountering the people of recognition supports hearts and engenders
wisdom." 'Abd al-Wahid al-Amadi al-Tamimi, Ghurar al-hikam wa durar al-
kalim, ed. As-Sayyid, Mahdi ar-Rija’i (Qum: Dar al-kitab al-islami,
1410/1990), 572-573.
6.
Al-Ghazali,
Ayniyyah, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
213.
9.
Al-Ghazali,
Letter, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
253.
11.
Al-Ghazali,
Majalis, 63-64.
13.
Another
version of a canonical hadith: “Many a faster receives nothing from his
fast but hunger and many a one who spends the night in prayer receives nothing
from his prayer but sleeplessness." Ibn Majah: Kitab as-Siyam, 21; at-Tajrid,
36.
14.
Al-Ghazali,
Ayniyyah, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
200.
15.
Al-Ghazali,
Majalis, 46-47.
16.
'Abdallah
Ansari, Sad Maydan, 255-257.
17.
Maybudi, Kashf
al-asrar, 3:140.
18.
This is a
rendition of a hadith: “The first thing which man is called to account
for on the Day of Judgment is the ritual prayer." Tirmidhi, Kitab
as-Salat, 188; Abu Da’ud, Kitab as-Salat, 145; Nisa’i, Salat,
9; Ibn Majah, Kitab al-Iqamah, 202.
19.
Part of a
famous hadith: “Three things of your world have been made beloved to me:
women, perfume, and the coolness of my eye is found in prayer." Nisa’i, Kitab
an-Nisa’, 1.
23.
Ibid., 21.
This is a saying that occurs in several forms in several Sufi texts. In some
places it is attributed to the Prophet Muhammad, in others to al-Junayd
al-Baghdadi, and in others to anonymous Sufis: “Two rounds of prayer in the
depths of the night are a treasure from the treasures of love," 'Ayn
al-Qudat Hamadani, Namaha-yi Ayn al-Qudat, 3:317.
24.
Ahmad b.
Muhammad Ibn 'Ata’ullah as-Skandari, Miftah al-falah wa misbah al-arwah
(Cairo, 1381/1961), 3.
26.
Al-Ghazali,
Letter, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
258.
27.
Abu Bakr
Muhammad b. Ibrahim al-Kalabadhi, at-Ta‘arruf li madhhab ahl at-tasawwuf,
ed. Ahmad Shams ad-Din (Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1413/1993), 9;
English translation, A.J. Arberry, The Doctrine of the Sufis (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1935; reprint, Lahore: Ashraf Press, 1966), 76. I
have checked my translation against that of Arberry, but to maintain
consistency I have chosen to employ my own translations.
28.
Rashid
ad-Din al-Maybudi, Kashf al-asrar wa-uddat al-abrar, ed. 'Ali Asghar
Hikmat (Tehran: Intisharat-i Danishgahi, 1952-60), 3:794.
31.
Najm
ad-Din Kubra, Fawa’ih al-jamal wa-fawatih al-jalal, ed. Fritz Meier
(Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1957), 24.
33.
An
allusion to the statement the prophet Abraham is reported have made upon
rejecting the idols worshipped by his tribe: "O my people! Truly I am
quit of the partners you ascribe. Truly I have turned my face toward Him Who
created the heavens and the earth, as a hanif, and I am not of the idolaters.”
(6:78-79)
38.
Ibid., 43
(37). The words attributed to the Prophet at the end are part of a hadith,
the whole of which reads, “The Messenger of God said, ‘There is none among you
who does not have a satan.' They asked, ‘And you, O Messenger of God?' he
replied, ‘And me, except that God has helped me overcome it, so my satan has
submitted.'” (Muslim, Kitab sifat al-qiyamah wa'l-jannah wa'n-nar: Bab
Tahrish ash-shaytan). Also cited by 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, Tamhidat,
196.
50.
Maybudi, Kashf
al-asrar, 1:344.
51.
T.J.
Winter, introduction to The Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife: Kitab
Dhikr al-mawt wa-ma badahu; Book XL of The Revival of the Religious Sciences
(Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1989), xiii.
52.
Bukhari, Kitab
ar-riqaq, 41; Muslim, Kitab adh-dhikr, 14.
53.
Tirmidhi, Kitab
al-qiyamah, 25; Ibn Majah, Kitab az-zuhd, 21.
54.
This
saying is often cited in Sufi texts as a hadith but is regarded by hadith
scholars as a Sufi saying: Ajluni, Isma'il b. Muhammad, Kashf al-khafa’ wa
muzil al-ilbas ‘mma ishtahara min al-ahadith ‘ala alsinat an-nas (Beirut:
Dar at-Turath al-'Arabi, 1932-33; reprint 1968), 2:384.
56.
See The
Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife: Book XL of the Revival of the Religious
Sciences, trans. T J. Winter.
61.
Persian
translation of the Quranic verse cited above.
62.
Al-Ghazali,
Ayniyyah, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
192.
63.
Mujahid
cites this as a saying attributed to 'Ali b. Abi Talib. It follows the style of
sayings attributed to him in the Ghurar al-hikam but is not among the
actual sayings.
64.
Mujahid
cites this as a saying attributed to 'Ali b. Abi Talib. I have not found it
listed among his sayings.
65.
Al-Ghazali,
Ayniyyah, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
192-193.
66.
For an
analysis of 'Ayn al-Qudat's understanding of spiritual death, see Leonard
Lewisohn, “In Quest of Annihilation: Imaginalization and Mystical Death in the Tamhidat
of 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani” in Classical Persian Sufism from its Origins to
Rumi, ed. Leonard Lewisohn, 285-336.
73.
Bukhari, Kitab
at-Tahajjud, 14.
76.
Majalis, 37. This hadith is often cited in Sufi texts but is not
found in the standard hadith collections. The version cited by Ahmad
al-Ghazali differs from others in that the verb “beholds me” (yattaliCu
calayya) replaces "encompasses me” (yasa‘uni). Isma'il b.
Muhammad Mustamli (d. 434/104243), Sharh-i ta‘arruf li-madhhab-i tasawwuf,
ed. Muhammad Rawshan (Tehran: Intisharat-i Asatir, 1363 HS/1984), 2:613 and
eight more places; Rashid ad-Din Maybudi, Kashf al-asrar wa ‘uddat al-abrar,
1:269 and six more places; Abu'l- Qasim al-Qushayri records it as "I have
a moment in which none encompasses me save my Lord,” ar-Risalah
al-Qushayriyyah fi ‘ilm at-tasawwuf, 79; and Abu Nasr as-Sarraj records,
"I have a moment with God in which nothing encompasses me with Him other
than God,” Kitab al-Luma‘, ed. 'Abd al-Halim Mahmud and Taha 'Abd
az-Zaqi Surur (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Hadithiyyah, 1970), 115.
78.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 20 (trans., 39); ed. Ritter, 37; ed. Rabbani, 170.
80.
This
saying, which is stated as if it were a hadith qudsi, is cited in many
Sufi texts. Sufis were well aware that such sayings were not in fact canonical
but related them as expressing an aspect of the Divine.
82.
The “hard
cash of manhood” refers to the true state of the spiritual seeker. Ahmad
al-Ghazali is likening the soul to coinage that can be of pure metal, mixed
metal, or completely adulterated metal.
83.
Meaning
that the grocer will weigh what is being sold so that the proper price is to be
paid. There is allusion here to the weighing of one's good and bad deeds on the
Day of Judgment.
84.
Al-Ghazali,
Letter, ed. Mujahid, Majmuah-yi athar-i farsi-yi Ahmad Ghazali,
252.
86.
Maqalat-i
Shamsi Tabrizi, 323; Chittick 147.
87.
Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali, Ihya’ ulum ad-din, 2:203.
88.
See e.g. Mirsad
al-ibad, 281.
89.
Bukhari, Kitab
Bad’ al-wahy, 3. For an example of how those in Ahmad al-Ghazali's
spiritual lineage employed this hadith to enjoin the practice of
spiritual seclusion, see Najm al-Din Daya Razi, Mirsad al-ibad, 281.
90.
It is
reported from 'Abd Allah b. 'Umar, “The Messenger of God used to practice
complete devotion (yatakifu) the last ten days of Ramadan.” Bukhari, Kitab
al-Itikaf, 1.
91.
Ibn Majah,
Kitab al-Fitnah, bab al-uzlah.
92.
Al-Qushayri, ar-Risalah al-Qushayriyyah, 102.
Translated into English by Barbara Von Schlegell, Principles of Sufism
(Berkeley: Mizan Press, 1990),
20.
I have
retranslated all the passages cited in this monograph in order to maintain
consistency with other citations. All my translations are indebted to Professor
Von Schlegell's translation.
93.
Ibid.,
103; Von Schlegell, 22.
94.
Ibid.,
102; Von Schlegell, 21.
95.
Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali, Ihya’, 2:205, attributed to Dhu'n-Nun al-Misri.
97.
For a
study of the continuing influence of these works, see Qamar ul Huda, Striving
for Divine Union: Spiritual Exercises for Suhrawardi Sufis (London/New
York: Routledge/Curzon, 2002) and Erik S. Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of
Transition.
98.
Shihab
ad-Din Abu Hafs 'Umar as-Suhrawardi, Awarif al-maarif, 190; Najm ad-Din
Razi, Mirsad al-ibad min al-mabda’ ila'l-mMad, 281.
99.
See Quran
2:51: And [remember] when We appointed forty nights for Moses, and you took
up the calf while he was away, while you were wrongdoers.
100.
As-Suhrawardi, Awarif al-maarif, 196.
101.
Razi, Mirsad
al-‘ibad, 281 (trans, 279).
108.
The three
days following the day of Immolation (10th of Dhu’l- Hijjah) during the Hajj
festival.
109.
This is
the version cited by 'Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami in his Kitab al-Arbadn
fi't-tasawwuf, n.e. (Hyderabad, 1950); and Muhammad 'Abd ar-Rahman
as-Sakhawi, Takhrij al-Arbain as-Sulamiyyah fi't-tasawwuf, ed. 'Ali
Hasan 'Ali 'Abd al-Hamid (Beirut: al-Maktab al-Islami, 1988). Another version
is cited by Ahmad at-Tusi in Bawariq al-ilma, 79. Yet another is found
in as-Sarraj’s Kitab al-Luma, 345.
111. Ibn Hajar al-'Asqalani, Lisan al-mizan,
1:293.
112.
Najm
ad-Din Kubra, Fawa’ih, 45. Another account of this story with some
variations is found in as-Sarraj’s Kitab al-Luma, 363.
113.
'Ali b.
'Uthman al-Jullabi al-Hujwiri, Kashf al-mahjub, ed. Valintin Zhukofski
(Tehran: Kitabkhaneh-yi Tahuri, 1383 HS), 541. Translated into English by R.A.
Nicholson, Kashf al-Mahjub of al-Hujwiri: The Oldest Persian Treatise on
Sufism (London: Luzac & Co., 1911; reprint 1976), 416. In some
citations I have followed Nicholson’s translation closely; in others I have retranslated
for the sake of consistency. Nonetheless, I am indebted to Nicholson for
guidance in those passages that I chose to retranslate.
114.
Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali, Ihya1, 2:249.
115. As-Sarraj, Kitab
al-Luma, 342.
116. Al-Hujwiri, Kashf al-mahjub, 534;
Nicholson, 412.
117.
Vincent J.
Cornell, ed. and trans., The Way of Abu Madyan (Cambridge: Islamic Texts
Society, 1996), 82.
118.
As-Sarraj,
Kitab al-Luma, 342; Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, Ihya’, 2:269.
119.
The place
of dhikr in sama may be best expressed by Jean During in his
essay “What is Sufi Music” in The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism, ed.
Leonard Lewisohn (London: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi Publications, 1992), 286:
Many Sufi melodies . . . are marked by
the form of dhikr. In some of them, the dhikr formula provides
the basis for a distinct melody. In others, the melody runs independently, but
the listener who is attuned may feel a call to recite the dhikr
inwardly. In other cases, there remains only the ‘taste’ of the dhikr, a
recollection and an awareness. How does this happen? It is because the musician
himself mobilizes all of his psychic energy in an attitude of ‘remembrance’ (dhikr),
uttering words and sounds of his song with the same total concentrated
consciousness which he invests in his dhikr.
120.
For a
detailed study of sama1, see Kenneth S. Avery, A
Psychology of Early sama‘: Listening and Altered States.
121.
Al-Hujwiri,
Kashf al-mahjub, 544-545; Nicholson, 418-419. My translation, with
reference to Nicholson.
122.
The most
comprehensive examination of shahid-bazi can be found in Cyrus Ali
Sargar, Sufi Aesthetics: Beauty, Love, and the Human Form in the Writings of
Ibn Arabi and ‘Iraqi (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2011),
especially chapter 5. Awhad ad-Din Kirmani's association with shahid- bazi
is discussed in Lloyd Ridgeon, “The Controversy of Shaykh Awhad al-Din Kirmani
and Handsome, Moon-Faces Youths: A Case Study of Shahid-Bazi in Medieval
Sufism,” Journal of Sufi Studies 1 (2012), 3-30. Leonard Lewisohn also
touches on shahid-bazi in the works of Hafiz in his essay "Hafiz in
the Socio-historical, Literary and Mystical Milieu of Medieval Persia,” in Hafiz
and the Religion of Love, 3-73.
125.
Ruzbihan Baqli, Le Jasmin des Fideles d'amour,
Kitab-e ‘Abhar al-‘ashiqin, ed. Henri Corbin and
Muhammad Mu‘in. Bibliottheque Iranienne, 8 (Tehran: Intisharat-i Manuchihri,
1365/1981), 3 (4).
126.
‘Abhar
al-‘ashiqin, 35 (79). Regarding Ruzbihan Baqli's
place in the Sufi tradition, see Carl W. Ernst, Ruzbihan Baqli: Mysticism
and the Rhetoric of Sainthood in Persian Sufism (London: RoutledgeCurzon,
1996). For a study of his teachings regarding love, see Carl W. Ernst "The
Stages of Love in Early Persian Sufism from Rabi‘a to Ruzbihan,” in Classical
Persian Sufism from its Origins to Rumi, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (London/New
York: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi, 1993), 435-455. For a study of the relation of
Ruzbihan Baqli's teachings to those in ad-Daylami's ‘Atf al-alif al-ma'luf,
see Masataka Takeshita, "Continuity and Change in the Tradition of Shirazi
Love Mysticism,” Orient XXIII (1987), 113-131.
127.
‘Abhar
al-‘ashiqin, 17 (35)
128.
Persian
translation of Arabic deleted.
131.
While
there was emphasis on the dedication to the Sufi master in this period, it
became a more formalized institution as the Sufi orders developed. See Ahmet T.
Karamustafa, Sufism: The Formative Period (Berkeley/Los Angeles:
University of California Press, 2007), 114-134.
Chapter 4: The Roots of Ahmad al-Ghazall's
Teachings
1.
The most
vivid and developed treatment of this theme is found in the Tamhidat of
‘Ayn al-Qudat. It is in fact one of the central themes of the text; while it is
discussed and alluded to throughout, the most extensive treatment is in Tamhidat
#283-303, 221-233. For analysis of the Satanology of ‘Ayn al-Qudat, ‘Attar and
others, see Peter J. Awn, Satan's Tragedy and Redemption: Iblis in Sufi
Pyschology (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997), esp. 122-183.
2.
Abu'l-Mugith
al-Husayn b. Mansur al-Hallaj, (Paris: P Geuthner, 1913), 41-43. This translation
draws on that of Michael Sells in Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Qur’an,
Miraj, Poetic and Theological Writings (NY: Paulist Press, 1996), 274.
5.
Louis
Masignon maintains that Ahmad al-Ghazali read portions from the Tawasin
in his sermons at the Behruz Ribat in Baghdad (The Passion of Hallaj,
2:162). This claim is not, however, substantiated by the sources.
6.
Ibn
al-Jawzi al-Muntazam, 17:239.
8.
Margaret
Smith, Rabi'a the Mystic and Her Fellow Saints in Islam (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1928; reprint, Cambridge: Oneworld, 1994);
Annemarrie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 55.
10.
Martin
Lings, Sufi Poetry (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 2004), 4.
11.
For a list
of ash-Shibli's many sayings on love, see Richard Gramlich, Alte Vorbilder
des Sufitums (Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz Verlag, 1995), 1:654665.
12.
Abu
l-Qasim al-Qushayri, ar-Risalah al-Qushayriyyah fi 'ilm at-tasawwuf (Beirut:
Dar al-Khayr, 1413/1993), 324. Translated into English by Barbara Von
Schlegell, Principles of Sufism (Berkeley, CA: Mizan Press, 1990). I
have retranslated all the passages cited in this paper in order to maintain
consistency in the technical vocabulary translated throughout the article, but
have followed Professor Von Schlegell's translation in many other respects.
13.
Al-Qushayri,
Risalah, 321.
14.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, at-Tajrid fi kalimat at-tawhid, 41; trans. Gramlich, Das
Wort des Einheitsbekenntnisses, 30. This is a famous hadith qudsi
that is often cited in Sufi texts but which does not appear in any of the
canonical collections. It is also cited at the beginning of Bahr al-mahabbah
fi asrar al-muwaddah fi tafsir Surat Yusuf, which is attributed to Ahmad
al-Ghazali (Bombay: n. p., 1984), 2.
15.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady 15/33; ed. Rabbani 166; ed. Ritter, 28.
16.
Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 32/54 (39); ed. Ritter, 60 (39); ed. Rabbani, 181 (38).
17.
Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 45/62 (48); ed. Ritter, 73 (44); ed. Rabbani, 189 (53).
18.
Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 10/27 (4); ed. Ritter, 18 (4); ed. Rabbani, 161 (3).
19.
Fakhr
ad-Din ‘Iraqi, Eama'at, ed. Muhammad Khaqavi (Tehran: Intisharat-i
Mulla, 1371 HS), 119; English translation by W.C. Chittick and Peter Lamborn
Wilson, Fakhr ad-Din 'Iraqi: Divine Flashes (New York: Paulist Press,
1982), 117. (My translation).
20.
Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 10/26 (4); ed. Ritter, 17 (4); ed. Rabbani, 161 (3).
21.
Muhammad
Ibn al-Munawwar (d. 598-9/1202), Asrar at-tawhid fi maqamat ash-shaykh Abi
Sa‘id, ed. Muhammad Rida Shafi'i Kadakani (Tehran: Intisharat-i Agah, 1366
HS; reprint, 1376 HS); English translation by John O'Kane, The Secrets of
God's Mystical Oneness [Asrar at-Tawhid] (Costa Mesa and New York: Mazda
Press and Bibliotheca Persica, 1992).
Nasrollah Pourjavady argues that some of the statements
in Asrar at-tawhid appear to be conscious of discussions that were not
prevalent at the time of Abu Sa‘id, thus making this a very unreliable source
for studying historical developments of ideas in the 5th/11th century.
Pourjavady, Ru’yat-i mah dar asman (Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Danishgahi,
1375 HS/1996), 238.
22.
After
repenting from a lavish life in his youth, Balkhi traveled widely for knowledge
in Iran, Iraq, Arabia, Syria, and Egypt. He settled in the region of Khurasan,
where he had many students. He is recognized as one of the first to bring the
practice of asceticism to this region, is known for his asceticism and his
emphasis on tawakkul (trust) and is said to be among the first to
discuss the spiritual states. Abu ‘Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami, Tabaqat
as-sufiyyah, ed. Nur ad-Din Sharibah (Cairo: Matba‘at al-Madani, 1987),
61-66; Shams ad-Din Abu ‘Abdallah M. b. Ahmad adh-Dhahabi, Siyar ‘atom
an-nubala', ed. Shu’ayb Arnaut et al (Beirut: Mu’assasah ar-Risalah, 1996),
9:313-316; Nur ad-Din ‘Abd ar-Rahman Jami, Nafahat al-uns min hadarat
al-quds, ed. Mahmud ‘Abidi (Tehran: Intisharat-i Ittila‘at, 1380 HS),
46-47; J. van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert
Hidschra (Berlin-New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1992), vol. 2, 545-549;
Gramlich, Alte Vorbilder des Sufitums, vol. 2, 13-62.
23.
Shaqiq
Balkhi, Adab al-‘ibadat, Edited by P Nwyia in Trois oeuvres inedites
de mystiques muslumans (Beirut: Dar al-Mashriq, 1982), 17-22.
24.
Shaqiq
Balkhi, Adab al-‘ibadat, 18.
32.
Abu'l-Hasan ‘Ali b. Muhammad ad-Daylami, ‘Atf
al-alif al-ma'luf ‘ala'l-lam al-ma‘tuf: Livre de l'inclinasion de l'alif uni
sur le lam inlcline, ed. J.C. Vadet (Cairo:
L'Institute Francais d'Archeologie Orentale, 1962), 2. English translation by Joseph
Norment Bell and Hasan Mahmoud Abul Latif al Shafie, A Treatise on Mystical
Oneness (Edinbugh: Edinburgh University Press, 2005). I have checked all
translations against those of Bell and Al Shafie but have chosen to keep my own
translations in order to maintain consistency in the translation of technical
Sufi terms.
33.
ad-Daylami,
‘Atf al-alif, 151.
34.
Lois Anita
Giffen, Theory of Profane Love Among the Arabs: The Development of the Genre
(New York: New York University Press, 1972).
35.
Ibid. 10. For the most comprehensive discussion of various positions
regarding ishq available in Western academic literature, see section 3,
chapter II. Also see Massignon, The Passion of al-Hallaj, 1:340-358.
38.
For more
of the significance of Junayd, see Ahmet T. Karamustafa, Sufism: the
Formative Period (Berkely, University of California Press, 2007), chap. 1;
especially pp. 15-18.
41.
As
demonstrated by Giffen, such outlines of the stages of love are common in the
secular love tradition. But I have found no direct parallels with ad-Daylami's
stages of love.
44.
Abu'l-Hasan
Sumnun b. Hamza al-Muhibb, a contemporary of al- Junayd in Baghdad who, like
al-Junayd, was a disciple of both Sari as-Saqati and Muhammad b. 'Ali al-Qassab
al-Baghdadi. He is a famous example of the early “ecstatic school” of Sufism.
He was known for extreme forms of devotion and for his public sermons on love
which are said to have stirred not only humans, but all objects, be they living
or inanimate. Sulami, Tabaqat as-sufiyyah, 196-198; Jami, Nafahat
al-uns, 100-101; Abu Nu'aym Ahmad b. 'Abdallah al-Isfahani, Hilyat
al-awliya’ wa tabaqat al-asfiya’, ed. Mustafa 'Abd al-Qadir 'Ata’ (Beirut:
Dar al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1997), 10:329-330; Arberry, The Doctrine of the
Sufis, 164-165; Muslims Saints and Mystics (London, 1996), 239-240.
47.
Allusion
to Quran 76:1: Has there come unto mankind a moment of time when there was
not anything mentioned?
48.
This is an
allusion to the belief that all things are created through the Divine Word. For
an extended discussion of Islamic beliefs regarding creation through the Divine
Word see Harry Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1976).
49.
cAtf al-alif, 26. This appears to be the
first instance of this saying preserved in any Sufi text. According to Louis
Massignon, this same passage is found in Ruzbihan Baqli's Mantiq al-asrar,
ML ms., f. 56b, in which ishq is replaced by mahabbah; Massignon,
The Passion of al-Hallaj, 3:102.
51.
This could
also be read, “ Tshq is the fire of the light of the first fire.”
54.
Ibid., 44.
An-Nahut is the level of reality pertaining to the world of forms and
gross bodies. Al-Lahut is the level where the Divine discloses Its
perfect attributes to Itself within Itself. Al-Lahut is often considered
to be the level of the first Divine determination after the undetermined Divine
Essence.
58.
Al-Husayn b.
Mansur al-Hallaj, Diwan al-Hallaj, ed. Sa'di Dannawi (Beirut: Dar
as-Sadir, 1998), 65.
60.
For
examinations of the opposition to Sufism in the early period, see Massignon, The
Passion of al-Hallaj, vol. 1, ch. 5 & 6; and Frederick De Jong and Bernd
Radtke ed., Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies
and Polemics (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1999).
61.
Abu Nasr
as-Sarraj at-Tusi, Kitab al-Lumaj ed. 'Abd al-Halim Mahmud and Taha 'Abd
az-Zaqi Surar (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Hadithiyyah, 1970), 87.
65.
Ibid., 88;
The last line is another version of a famous hadith qudsi, known as Hadith
an-Nawafil (the Hadith of supererogatory prayers): “God has said,
‘Who shows enmity toward my friend, I am at war with him. My servant does not
draw near to Me with anything more beloved to me than obligatory religious
duties, and My servant ceases not to draw near unto Me with supererogatory
devotions (nawafil) until I love him; and when I love him, I am the
hearing with which he hears, the sight with which he sees, the hand with which
he grasps and the foot upon which he walks.” Bukhari, Kitab ar-Riqaq,
38. The version quoted here is the end of the version cited by 'Ali b. 'Uthman
al-Jullabi al-Hujwiri, Kashf al-mahjub, ed. Valintin Zhukofski (Tehran:
Kitabkhaneh-yi Tahuri, 1383 HS), 393.
69.
A native
of the Persian province of Jibal, al-Makki first studied Sufism in Makka with
Abu Sa'id al-A’rabi (d. 341/952), who had been a companion of an-Nuri, and with
al-Junayd in Baghdad. Al-Makki then traveled to Baghdad, where he may have
studied with as-Sarraj. From there he went to Basrah, where he joined the
Salimiyyah movement that developed around the teachings of Sahl at-Tustari (d.
283/896) and was continued by Abu’l-Hasan Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Salim (d.
356/967), the son of Sahl at-Tustari’s lifelong companion Muhammad b. Salim.
(As-Sulami, Tabaqat, 427.) Scholars disagree as to whether or not
al-Makki had direct contact with the younger Ibn as-Salim. For a discussion of
the different views and their support in the primary sources, see Bowering, The
Mystical Vision of Existence in Classical Islam: The Qur’anic Hermeneutics of
the Sufi Sahl at-Tustari (d. 283/896) (Berlin/NY: Walter de Gruyter, 1980),
25-26. As has been observed by Louis Massignon, Bernd Radtke, and Gerhard
Bowering, al-Makkfs Qut al-qulub represents the teachings of the
Salimiyyah movement. (Massignon— [B. Radtke], EI, 8: 993-994 [art.
“Salimiyyah”]; Gerhard Bowering, Mystical Vision, 26.) Al-Makki often
refers to Abu'l-Hasan as “our Shaykh" and to Sahl at-Tustari as “our
Imam." But as he cites Sufis of many predilections, his writings are not
limited to the teachings of the Salimiyyah.
70.
For the
influence of al-Makki's Qut al-qulub on al-Ghazali's Ihya’, see
Saeko Yazaki, Islamic Mysticism and Abu Talib al-Makki: The Role of the
Heart (London: Routledge, 2013); H. Lazarus-Yafeh, Studies in
al-Ghazzali (Jerusalem: The Magnes Press, 1975), 34-35; Kojiro Nakamura,
“Makki and Ghazali on Mystical Practices," Orient (Tokyo), 20
(1984), 83-91; Mohamed Sherif, Ghazali's Theory of Virtue (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1975), 105-107.
71.
A.J.
Arberry, Sufism: an account of the mystics of Islam (London: George
Allen & Unwin, 1950; reprint, 1969), 68.
72.
If it is
the practical aspect of Sufism that is the focus of the Qut al-qulub,
the intellectual aspect is more prevalent in al-Makki's later treatise, Tlm
al-qulub (Knowledge of the Hearts). As Gerhard Bowering observes, “Large
passages of this text are marked as a definitely esoteric, enthusiastic Sufism,
and stand in obvious contrast to the sober disciplined Sufism described in the Qut
al-qulub" (Bowering, Mystical Vision, 27). Despite an extensive
chapter entitled “The Attribute of Sincerity and Degrees of the Sincere at
Heart" and a shorter section entitled “Sayings Regarding Love," Tlm
al-qulub provides little insight into Sufi teachings on love, being more
focused, as the title suggests, on knowledge, recognition, and wisdom (hikmah).
73.
Abu Talib
Muhammad b. 'Ali b. 'Atiyyah al-Harithi al-Makki, Qut al-qulub fi mMamalat
al-mahbub wa-wasf tariq al-murid ila maqam at-tawhid, ed. Basil Uyun as-Sud
(Beirut: Dar al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1417/1997), 2:83.
76.
Arberry, SEI,
210, art. “Kalabadhi."
78.
Alexander
Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short Introduction (Leiden: E.J. Brill,
2000), 123.
79.
For a
discussion of al-Kalabadhi's place within the early Sufi tradition, see Ahmet
T. Karamustafa, Sufism: The Early Period, 67-71.
80.
al-Kalabadhi,
at-Ta‘arruf li madhhab ahl at-tasawwuf, 106; A.J. Arberry, The
Doctrine of the Sufis, 97. I have checked my translation against that of
Arberry, but to maintain consistency I have chosen to employ my own
translations.
81.
Al-Kalabadhi,
at-Ta‘arruf, 101; Arberry, Doctrine, 85. (My Translation)
82.
Abu
'Abdallah Sa'id b. Yurid an-Nibaji is a little known Sufi for whom no exact
dates are recorded: adh-Dhahabi, Siyar a’lam an-nubala’, 9:586.
83.
Kalabadhi,
128; Arberry, Doctrine, 85. This could also be read, “love does not
abide through a cause." In rendering this citation as it appears in the
body of the text, I am following the Sharh-i Ta'arruf li madhhab-i tasawwuf of
Isma'il b. Muhammad Mustamli, ed. Muhammad Rawshan, (Tehran: Intisharat-i
Asatir, 1363 HS/ 1984), 1400.
84.
Al-Mustamli,
Sharh-i Ta'arruf, 1389.
85.
Ibid.,
1391-1392. This translation draws from the translation of the same passage by
William Chittick, Divine Love, 288.
86.
Risalah, 319; Von Schlegell, Principles of Sufism, 328.
87.
Risalah, 319; Von Schlegell, Principles of Sufism, 330. A similar
saying is attributed to Sumnun al-Muhibb by ad-Daylami, Atf al-alif, 13.
88.
Risalah 321; Von Schlegell, 330.
89.
Ibid.,
321; Von Schlegell, 330.
90.
Ibid.,
321; Von Schlegell, 330.
91.
Abu Bakr
Muhammad b. 'Ali b. Ja'far al-Baghdadi al-Kattani, a native of Baghdad and a
companion of al-Junayd, an-Nuri and Abu Sa'id al-Kharraz. He later traveled to
Mecca where he died in 322/934. Jami, Nafahat al-Uns, 181; Abu Nu'aym
al-Isfahani, Hilyah, 10:365-366.
92.
Risalah, 322; Von Schlegell, 332.
93.
A native
of Ubulluh, a small village four farsangs from Basrah, he was a teacher of Abu
Ya'qub an-Nahrajuri, who was later a companion of al-Junayd; he most likely
lived in the second half of the third century hijri; Jami, Nafahat
al-Uns, 131.
94.
Risalah, 322; Von Schlegell, 332.
95.
Ibid.,
323; Von Schlegell, 333.
96.
Ibid.,
324; Von Schlegell, 334.
97.
Ibid.,
325; Von Schlegell, 336.
98.
Ibid.,
324; Von Schlegell, 334.
99.
Ibid.,
327; Von Schlegell, 339; the last line is an allusion to the famous Hadith
an-Nawafil, Bukhari, Kitab ar-Riqaq, 38. See note 64.
100.
Ibid.,
321-2; Von Schlegell, 330-331.
101.
Al-Hujwiri
was a Persian Sufi from the area of Ghazna in present- day Afghanistan. He
studied Sufism under Abu'l-Fadl al-Khuttali, through whom he is linked to the
circle of ash-Shibli and al-Junayd in Baghdad (Knysh, Islamic Mysticism,
133). He also traveled to Iraq, where he studied with many other Sufi shaykhs
who are mentioned throughout the treatise.
102.
Kashf
al-mahjub is the earliest Sufi handbook in Persian.
The earliest extant treatise on Sufism in Persian is the Sharh-i Ta‘arruf li
madhhab-i tasawwuf by Abu Ibrahim Isma'il b, Muhammad al-Mustamli (d.
1042-1043).
103.
Al-Hujwiri,
Kashf al-mahjub, 397; Translated into English by R.A. Nicholson, Kashf
al-Mahjub of al-Hujwiri: The Oldest Persian Treatise on Sufism (London:
Luzac & Co., 1911; reprint 1976), 308. In some citations I have followed
Nicholson’s translation closely, others I have retranslated to maintain
consistency in the rendering of technical terms.
104.
Kashf
al-mahjub, 398; Nicholson, 308.
105.
Safwat is from the same root as Sufi, s-f-y. This is one of the
many origins proposed for the word Sufi.
106.
Kashf
al-mahjub, 398; Nicholson, 308.
107.
Ibid.,
401-2; Nicholson, 311.
108.
Ibid.,
400; Nicholson, 310. (My translation).
109.
Ibid.,
401; Nicholson, 310. (My translation).
110.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 55/80; ed. Ritter, 75-76; ed. Rabbani, 199.
111.
Ahmad
al-Ghazali, Majalis.
112.
Some of
the passages attributed to Ansari in Maybudi's Kashf al-Asrar are taken
from works whose authenticity can be established, such as Manazil as-sa‘irin
and Sad Madyan. The authenticity of other passages is, however,
difficult to verify. Shafi'i-Kadkani goes so far as to claim that the
commentary from which Maybudi drew was that of another Sufi teacher of Herat,
Abu Ahmad 'Umar b. 'Abdallah b. Muhammad al-Harawi (d. ca. 400/1009); see
Shafi'i-Kadkani, “Pir-i Hirawi ghayr az Khwajah 'Abdallah Ansari Ast,” Namah-yi
Baharestan, 10, 15, 2009, 175-192. If Shafi'i-Kadkani's findings are
correct, it would establish a more open discourse regarding the nature of love
a full hundred years before the composition of the Sawanih.
113.
For
details regarding the manner in which these texts were compiled, see Serge
Beaurecueil, “Khwaja Abdullah Ansari (396-481H./1006- 1089), Mystique
Hanbalite,” Recherches d'Institut de Lettres Orientales de Beyrouth, XXVI,
Beirut, 1965; and A.G. Ravan Farhadi, ‘Abdullah Ansari of Herat
(1006-1089 C.E.): An Early Sufi Master (Richmond Surrey: Curzon, 1996);
idem., “The Hundred Grounds of ‘Abdullah Ansari of Herat,” Classical Persian
Sufism: From its Origins to Rumi, ed. Leonard Lewisohn, 381-399. As Farhadi
observes, “Ansari is considered a great writer and yet he almost never wrote,” ‘Abdullah
Ansari of Herat, 19.
114.
'Abdallah Ansari, Manazil al-sa’irin/Les etapes
des itinerants vers Dieu. Text and translation by S. de Laugier de
Beaurecueil (Cairo: Imprimerie de l-Institut Frangais d'Archeologie Orientale,
1962), 71-72.
116.
'Abdallah
Ansari, Mahabbat Namah, in Majmu‘ah-yi rasa’il-i farsi- yi Khwajah
‘Abd Allah Ansari, ed. Muhammad Sarwar Mawla’i (Tehran: Intisharat-i Tus,
1377/1998), 367
117.
'Abdallah
Ansari, Sad Maydan, in Majmu‘ah-yi rasa’il-i farsi-yi Khwajah ‘Abd
Allah Ansari, 333.
120.
Abu Hamid
al-Ghazali, Ihya’ ‘ulum ad-din, 4:257.
122.
Ibid.,
4:259; al-Qushayri, Risalah, 326; Von Schlegell, 337.
127.
Some
parallels to this view of ‘ishq can be found in the secular love
tradition. For example, in his Risalah fi’l-‘ishq al-Jahiz (d.
255/868-9) defines ‘ishq as that which exceeds hubb (Giffen, Theory
of Profane Love Among the Arabs, 85). But the possible connections between
the Sufi discussion of love and those of the secular love tradition are beyond
the scope of this study.
139.
Muslim: Kitab
al-iman, 147; Ibn Majah: Kitab ad-dua’; Ahmad b. Hanbal: 4:133.
146.
Risalah, 327; Von Schlegell, 338.
151.
Al-Mustamli,
Sharh-i TtAarruf, 1391-1392.
154.
Abu Sa'id
Fadl b. Abi'l-Khayr Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Mihani as-Sufi—a Sufi Shaykh in
Khurasan known for asceticism, practicing seclusion, and performing miracles.
He is said to have sat with as-Sulami, and it is reported that Imam al-Haramayn
al-Juwayni transmitted reports from him. Adh-Dhahabi, Siyar a’lam an-nubala’,17:622;
Taj ad-Din Abu Nasr 'Abd al-Wahhab b. 'Ali as-Subki, at-Tabaqat
ash-Shafiiyyah al-kubra (Cairo: Tsa'l- Babi al-Halabi, 1964-76), 5:306.
156.
Kashf, 398; Nicholson, 308.
158.
'Abdallah
Ansari, Chihil wa daw fasl, in Majmuah-yi rasa’il-i farsi-yi Khwajah
Abd Allah Ansari, 111.
159.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 4/1 (18); ed. Ritter, 5 (1); ed. Rabbani, 156
(intro.).
Chapter
5: Ahmad al-Ghazall's Metaphysics of Love
1.
For a
discussion of apophasis in mystical discourse, see Michael Sells, Mystical
Languages of Unsaying (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994).
2.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 6/21-22 (3), ed. Ritter, 10 (3), ed. Rabbani, 158
(2).
4.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 1/15; ed. Ritter, 2; ed. Rabbani, 154.
5.
Cf. 44:54;
52:20; 55:70-74; 56:22-23, 35-37.
6.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 1/15; ed. Ritter, 2; ed. Rabbani, 154.
7.
Chittick, Divine
Love, 312.
8.
Leili
Anvar, “The Radiance of Epiphany: The Vision of Beuty and Love in Hafiz's Poem
of Pre-Eternity," in Hafiz and the Religion of Love in Classical
Persian Poetry, 124.
11.
This
saying is also cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in the Majalis, 37, and at-Tajrid,
16.
12.
Part of a
noncanonical hadith qudsi, the whole of which reads, “David said, ‘My
God! Where would I find You if I searched for You?' He said, ‘With those whose
hearts are broken.'" Qut al-qulub, 1:535; Abu Nu‘aym al-Isfahani, Hilyat
al-awliya’, 2:32; Kashf al-mahjub, 125 (attributed to Moses); at-Tajrid,
20.
13.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 1/15; ed. Ritter, 2; ed. Rabbani, 154.
15.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 1/15; ed. Ritter, 2; ed. Rabbani, 154.
16.
As regards
the Sawanih, Bo Utas observes, “The Savanih offers not only a difficult
but also quite compressed and partly enigmatic text." For his analysis of
the ambiguities created by this use of language, see Bo Utas, “‘Ambiguity' in
the Savanih of Ahmad Ghazali," Proceedings of the Second European
Conference of Iranian Studies, ed. Bert G. Fragner, Christa Fragner,
Gherardo Gnoli, Roxane Haag-Higuchi, Mauro Maggi and Paola Orsatti (Rome:
Institute Italiano per Il Medio ed Estremo Oriente, 1995), 701-710.
17.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 45/53 (38); ed. Ritter, 58 (38); ed. Rabbani, 180 (37).
18.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 7/22 (3); ed. Ritter, 11 (3); ed. Rabbani, 158-159 (2).
19.
This
famous saying, usually quoted as a hadith, is not accepted as canonical
by the specialists (see Mujam, 1261). It is frequently cited in Sufi
texts.
20.
In this
passage, Ahmad al-Ghazali is using the terms heart and spirit in a different
manner than in the Sawanih. While the heart is the ultimate faculty of
true perception in the Sawanih, here it is a level below that function
and thus more limited.
22.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 8-9/24 (4); ed. Ritter, 14 (4); ed. Rabbani, 160
(3).
23.
Majalis, 61. It is not clear whether al-Ghazali is citing this last line as
a hadith. I can find no record of it in any sources.
24.
Ed. Paul Nwyia, Trois oeuvres inedites de
mystiques musulmans (Beirut: Dar al-Mashriq, 1972), 23-182. Ibn ‘Ata's commentary has also been translated into German by
Richard Gramlich, Abu l-Abbas b. Ata’: Sufi und Koranausleger (Stuttgart:
Deutsche Morgenlandische Gesellschaft, 1995).
25.
Ed. Paul Nwyia, “Le Tafsir mystique attribue a
Ja'far Sadiq," Melanges de L'Universite Saint Joseph, Beirut, 43
(1968): 181-230. Translated by Farhana Mayer, Spiritual
Gems: The Mystical Qur’an Commentary Ascribed by the Sufis to Imam Jafar
al-Sadiq (d. 148/765) (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2011).
26.
Gerhard
Bowering, “The Quran Commentary of as-Sulami," in Islamic Studies
Presented to Charles J. Adams, ed. Wael B. Hallaq and Donald P. Little
(Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991), 46.
27.
For a
study of the khamriyyah tradition, see F. Harb, “Wine Poetry (khamriyyat),"
in Abbasid belles-lettres, The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature,
vol. 2, ed. Julia Ashtiyani et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1990), 219-234; and Philip Kennedy, The Wine Song in Classical Arabic
Poetry: Abu Nuwas and the Literary Tradition (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1997). Kennedy's study is particularly important for the connection between
love and wine in the classical tradition, one that Ahmad al-Ghazali appears to
play upon.
28.
For a
brief history of the development of the Udhri ghazal see Andras Hamori,
“Love Poetry (Ghazal)," in Abbasid belles-lettres, 202-217.
29.
Roger
Allen, An Introduction to Arabic Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2000), 105.
30.
For an
examination of the theme of death in love see Lois Anita Giffen, Theory of
Profane Love Among the Arabs: The Development of a Genre (New York: New
York University Press, 1971), pt. 3, chap. 1, “The Martyrs of Love."
31.
This verse is cited both in the Sawanih (cited
below) and the Majalis,
47.
32.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 48-49/65 (65); ed. Ritter, 93 (63); ed. Rabbani,
193-194 (61). Ritter's version also contains two lines of poetry not found in
the other editions.
33.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 3/17 (1); Ritter, 4 (1); ed. Rabbani, 155 (intro.).
34.
For an
examination of the Sufi approach to the Quran, see Kristin Sands, Sufi
Commentaries on the Quran in Classical Islam (London/New York: Routledge),
2006.
35.
This is an
allusion to a famous hadith wherein it is said that God has sent 315
messengers and 124,000 prophets: Al-Musnad li'l-Imam Ahmad bin Hanbal,
ed. Muhammad Jamil al-'Attar (Beirut, Dar al-Fikr, 1414/1994) (5, 265); viii,
302.
37.
Bukhari, Kitab
al-Iman, 39, Kitab al-BuyU, 2; Muslim, Kitab al-Musafat, 20;
Abu Da’ud, 3330; Tirmidhi, Kitab al-BuyU, 1; Nasa’i, Kitab al-BuyU,
2, Kitab al-Ashribah, 50; Ibn Majah, Kitab al-Fitan, 14.
40.
An example
of this is found in Richard Gramlich's translation of at-Tajrid fi kalimat
at-tawhid. Though Gramlich is among the most meticulous of modern scholars
of Sufism, there are at least three citations that he did not detect: Das
Wort des Einheitsbekenntnisses,13 (Ar., 8), “Ins Elend gerat der Anbeter
des Dinar, ins Elend gerat der Anbeter des Dirham, ins Elend gerat der Anbeter
des Kleides”: This is a noncanonical prophetic hadith, though often
cited. It is also found in Isma'il b. Muhammad Mustamlks Sharh-i ta'arruf,
1071. Another version that adds, “The slave of hunger and garments (qatifah)
is wretched” is cited by 'Ali b. 'Uthman al-Hujwiri, in Kashf al-mahjub, 68;
14 (Ar., 8); “Wer Gottes ist, dessen ist Gott”: This is a noncanonical hadith
that is also cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in his Majalis, 29, 42; and
28 (Ar., 26); “Wie mancher Faster hat von seinem Fasten nichts als den Hunger
und der Durst! Wien mancher Beter hat von seinem Gebet nicht als die Muhe und
die Anstregung!”: A well-known and oft-cited hadith: Bukhari, Kitab
al-iman, 17; Muslim, Kitab al-iman, 32; Abu Da’ud, Kitab
al-jihad, 95; Tirmidhi, Kitab tafsir surah, 88; Nasa’i, Kitab
az-zakat, 3; Ibn Maja, Kitab al-fitan, 1.
41.
A good
example of this style is the passage cited in Chapter 3, Ahmad al-Ghazali, Ayniyyah,
in Mujahid, Majmuah, 196.
42.
Majalis, 20, 22. Regarding the centrality of sincerity and remembrance,
Ahmad al-Ghazali says, “Every deed which does not comprise sincerity, its
non-existence is better than its existence. Because if you do not spend many
hours in supererogatory prayers, perhaps you will say to yourself, ‘O worthless
one’ . . . There is no occupation save the remembrance of God.” Majalis,
21.
43.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 39/62 (46); ed. Ritter, 80 (54); ed. Rabbani,
44.
Lama'at, 45; Chittick and Wilson, 70.
45.
Lama'at, 49; Chittick and Wilson, 73.
46.
Lama'at, 63; Chittick and Wilson, 81. According to Chittick and Wilson these
verses are attributed to an-Nuri, but they do not provide any citation. (I have
drawn more heavily on Chittick and Wilson in this citation than in others).
47.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 13/29 (8); ed. Ritter, 21 (8); ed. Rabbani,
163
(7).
Although al-Ghazali does not mention this, the Quran speaks often of God’s
love, but in all cases the objects of His love are human beings. This would
appear to confirm his assertion that love is “the special character of man.”
48.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 44/68 (58); ed. Ritter, 83 (58); ed. Rabbani,
49.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 21-22/42 (21); ed. Ritter, 41 (21); ed. Rabbani, 171 (20).
50.
Ibid.,
Pourjavady, 44/68-69 (58); ed. Ritter, 83 (58); ed. Rabbani, 190 (56).
51.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 13/31 (10); ed. Ritter, 24 (10); ed. Rabbani,
52.
Lama'at, 68 (7); Chittick and Wilson, 84-85.
53.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 12/29 (8); ed. Ritter, 22 (8); Rabbani, 163 (7).
54.
While for
practitioners of Sufism and other Muslims, this passage is taken as a reference
to the Prophet ascending to the Divine Throne, others take it as a reference to
the Prophet Muhammad’s vision of the angel Gabriel during the same journey, in
which case He drew nigh would be rendered as “he drew nigh"; see
Muhammad b. Jarir al-Tabari, Jami al-bayan an ta’wil ay al-Qur’an, ed.
Mahmud Shakir al-Hirstani (Beirut: Dar ihya' al-turath al-'arabi, 1421/2001),
27:55-56; Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Qurtubi, al-Jami li ahkam
al-Qur’an, ed. Muhammad Ibrahim al-Hafnawi (Cairo: Dar al-Hadith,
1323/2002), 9:78-80. Here it has been rendered to better match the interpretive
context to which al-Ghazali alludes. For a study of the place of the mi'raj
in Sufism, see Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Qur'an, Miraj, Poetic and
Theological Writings, trans. Michael Sells (NY: Paulist Press, 1995).
58.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 3/17 (1); ed. Ritter, 4 (1); ed. Rabbani, 155
(intro.).
60.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 31/52 (37); ed. Ritter, 57 (37); ed. Rabbani, 179
(36).
61.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 5/20 (3); ed. Ritter, 8 (3); ed. Rabbani, 157 (2).
62.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 43/66 (53), 55/81 (77); ed. Ritter, 49 (49), 105 (75); ed. Rabbani,
187 (47), 199 (73).
63.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 5/20 (3); ed. Ritter, 8 (3); ed. Rabbani, 157 (2).
64.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 45/63 (48); ed. Ritter, 73 (45); ed. Rabbani, 175 (43).
65.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 12/30 (9); ed. Ritter, 22-23 (9); ed. Rabbani, 163 (8).
67.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 43/67 (55); ed. Ritter, 78 (51); ed. Rabbani, 188
(49).
68.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 52/78 (71); ed. Ritter, 100 (69); ed. Rabbani, 196 (67).
69.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 31/52 (37); ed. Ritter, 57 (37); ed. Rabbani, 179 (36).
70.
This
saying is part of a prophetic hadith, the whole of which reads: “The
hearts of all the children of Adam are like a single heart between two fingers
of the Compassionate. He turns it where He desires. O God, O Turner of hearts,
turn our hearts towards obeying You" (Muslim, Kitab al-Qadar, 17;
Tirmidhi, Kitab al-Qadar, 7, Kitab ad-Dawat, 89; Ibn Majah, Muqaddimah,
13; Ahmad b. Hanbal, 2:168, 173; 6:182, 251, 302, 315). Several ahadith
refer to God as “the Turner of hearts" (musarrif al-qulub) and as
“The Revolver of hearts" (muqallib al-qulub); see Wensinck, Concordance,
5:459.
71.
This is a
famous prophetic hadith often cited in Sufi texts: “Verily God does not
look at your bodies and your forms, but He looks at your hearts" (Ahmad b.
Hanbal, 2:285, 539; Muslim, Kitab al-birr, 33; Ibn Majah, Kitab
az-zuhd, 9). Another variation—“Verily God does not look at your forms, He
only looks at your hearts"—is cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in at-Tajrid,
5: “God does not look at your forms and your works, but He looks at your hearts
and your states" is cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in the Majalis, 4, 9.
73.
I owe this
observation to William Chittick's invaluable comments on an earlier version of
the manuscript.
74.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 45/64 (49); ed. Ritter, 74 (46); ed. Rabbani, 176
(44).
75.
That is,
Abu Talib al-Makki, see Chapter 4.
76.
Lama'at, 88; Chittick and Wilson, 97.
77. 
Lama'at, 87; Chittick and Wilson, 96.
78.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 7/22 (3); ed. Ritter, 11 (3); ed. 158 (2).
79.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 27/48 (30); ed. Ritter, 51 (30); ed. 176 (29).
80.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 17/36 (16); ed. Ritter, 32 (16); ed. 168 (15).
81.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 17/36 (16); ed. Ritter, 33 (15); ed. 168 (15).
83.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 18/36 (17); ed. Ritter, 33 (17); ed. Rabbani, 168
(16).
84.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 45/69 (59); ed. Ritter, 84 (59); ed. Rabbani, 190 (57).
85.
Pourjavady,
commentary on Sawanih translation, 94.
86.
Pourjavady,
commentary on Sawanih translation, 95; Majmuah-yi athar-i Nur Ali
Shah Isfahani, ed. Javad Nurbakhsh (Tehran: Firdawsi, 1971), 2.
87.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 21/41 (21); ed. Ritter, 39 (21); ed. Rabbani, 171
(20).
88.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 15/33 (12); ed. Ritter, 28 (12); ed. Rabbani, 166 (11). In the
editions of Ritter, Pourjavady, and Rabbani, the text reads "ugly" (qubh),
rather than "nothing" (hich). In this case the translation
would read, "And that face is ugliness—when you know it." In this
instance, I have chosen to follow the text edited by Mehdi Bayani ([Tehran,
1322/1943], 12). In his critical apparatus, Ritter also notes that this
alternative appears in at least one manuscript. Both readings are viable, but
given the nature of the discussion, in which all other faces are said to pass
away before the face of God and there remains the Face of thy Lord
(55:27), "nothing" (hich) appears to be a better
interpretation.
89.
Lama'at, 133; Chittick and Wilson, 126.
90.
This is an
allusion to an oft-cited supplication, that although at times attributed to the
Prophet, was most likely first said by either ‘Umar ibn al-Khattab or Abu Bakr
as-Siddiq: "O God show me things as they are in themselves. Show me truth
as truth and give me the strength to follow it. Show me falsehood as falsehood
and give me the strength to avoid it."
91.
Lama'at, 134; Chittick and Wilson, 126. Another version of this verse is
cited by Ahmad al-Ghazali in at-Tajrid, 18: "And in everything
there is a sign / indicating that He is the One." This is a verse of
poetry often cited by Sufis from the ascetic poet Abu'l-'Atahiyyah (d. 210/825
or 211/826). The full poem is:
Oh we are all perishing!
Which of the sons of Adam is immortal?
Their beginning is from their Lord,
And all are unto Him returning.
What a wonder that one opposes the Divine
or that the denier denies Him.
In every movement and in every resting
There belongs to God a witness.
And in everything there is a sign
indicating that He is the One.
Abu'l-'Atahiyyah, Isma'il b. al-Qasim, Diwan
Abi'l-Atahiyyah (Beirut: Dar as-Sadr, 1964), 122. Another version of the
last bayt is cited by Abu Nasr as-Sarraj in his Kitab al-Luma:
“And in everything there is a witness, indicating that He is one,” 53.
92.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 15/33-34 (13); ed. Ritter, 29 (13); ed. Rabbani,
166 (12).
93.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 48/73 (63); ed. Ritter, 92 (62); ed. Rabbani,
94.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 13-14/31 (11); ed. Ritter, 25 (11); ed. Rabbani, 164-165 (10).
95.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 14/32 (11); ed. Ritter, 27 (11); ed. Rabbani, 165 (10).
96.
Lamaat, 69; Chittick and Wilson, 85.
97.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 36/59 (43); ed. Ritter, 70 (44); ed. Rabbani,
184-185 (42).
98.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 36/58 (41); ed. Ritter, 69 (42); ed. Rabbani, 184 (41).
99.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 18/37 (18); ed. Ritter, 34 (18); ed. Rabbani, 169 (17).
100.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 29/50-51 (34); ed. Ritter, 54 (34); ed. Rabbani, 177-178 (33).
101.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 49-50/75 (67); ed. Ritter, 95 (65); ed. Rabbani,
102.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 50/75 (67); ed. Ritter, 95 (65); ed. Rabbani, 194-195 (63).
103.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 39/62 (47); ed. Ritter, 81 (55); ed. Rabbani, 189 (53).
105.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 11/28 (7); ed. Ritter, 20 (7); ed. Rabbani, 162 (6).
106.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 11/28 (7); ed. Ritter, 20-21 (7); ed. Rabbani, 162 (6).
107.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 20/40 (20); ed. Ritter, 38 (20); ed. Rabbani,
108.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 19/38 (19); ed. Ritter, 36 (19); ed. Rabbani, 169 (18).
109.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 26/47 (29); ed. Ritter, 49-50 (29); ed. Rabbani, 175 (28).
110.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 22/43 (23); ed. Ritter, 43 (23); ed. Rabbani,
111. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 35/57 (40); ed. Ritter, 66-67 (40); ed. Rabbani, 183 (39).
112. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 21/40 (21); ed. Ritter, 40 (21); ed. Rabbani,
113.
Ibid., ed. Pourjavady, 24/44 (25); ed.
Ritter, 44-45 (25); ed. Rabbani,
114. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 28/49 (32); ed. Ritter, 52-53 (32); ed. Rabbani,
115. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 23/42-43 (23); ed. Ritter, 43 (23); ed. Rabbani,
116. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 32/54 (39); ed. Ritter, 60 (39); ed. Rabbani,
117.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 32/54 (39); ed. Ritter, 60 (39); ed. Rabbani, 180-181 (38).
118.
“I am the
Truth” and “Glory be to me” are two much debated ecstatic utterances that are
often cited in Sufi texts. The former is attributed to al-Hallaj, the latter to
Bistami. Many Sufis criticize both figures for having gone too far in having
expressed such utterances. Others maintain that they reveal a high degree of
spiritual attainment. See Carl Ernst, Words of Ecstasy in Sufism
(Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1984).
119.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 16/34 (13); ed. Ritter, 30 (13); ed. Rabbani,
166-167 (12).
120.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 25-26/47 (28); ed. Ritter, 48 (28); ed. Rabbani, 175 (27).
121.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 32-33/54-55 (39); ed. Ritter, 60-61 (39); ed. Rabbani, 181 (38).
122.
Given the
ambiguity of Persian, this phrase could also be read "she is farther,”
meaning that the beloved is farther from the lover.
123.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 30/51 (36); ed. Ritter, 56 (36); ed. Rabbani,
124. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 45-46/70 (60); ed. Ritter, 86 (61); ed. Rabbani,
125. Ibid.,
ed. Pourjavady, 47/72 (61); ed. Ritter, 90 (61); ed. Rabbani
126.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 18/37 (18); ed. Ritter, 34-35 (18); ed. Rabbani, 169 (17).
127.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 38/61 (45); ed. Ritter, 80 (53); ed. Rabbani, 188 (51).
128.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 43/55 (39); ed. Ritter, 61 (39); ed. Rabbani, 181 (38).
129.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady 52/78 (72); ed. Ritter, 100 (70); ed. Rabbani, 197 (68).
130.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 52/78 (72); ed. Ritter, 100 (70); ed. Rabbani, 197 (68).
132.
Ibid., ed.
Pourjavady, 19-20/39 (19); ed. Ritter, 36-37 (19); ed. Rabbani, 169-170 (3).
133.
For an
explanation of “the station of no station,” see William Chittick, The Sufi
Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-Arabi's Metaphysics of Imagination (Albany, NY:
SUNY Press, 1989), 355-356.
134.
Sawanih, ed. Pourjavady, 8-9/24 (4); ed. Ritter, 14 (4); ed. Rabbani, 160
(3).
Conclusion
1.
Leonard
Lewisohn, “Sawanih” in Encyclopedia of Love in World Religions, ed.
Yudit Kornberg Greenberg (New York: Macmillan Reference & Thomson Gale,
2007), 2:538.
3.
Leili
Anvar, "The Radiance of Epiphany: The Vision of Beauty and Love in Hafiz's
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