Al-Ghazali was followed by two theologians who, if anything, were even more influenced by philosophy than he was: al-Shahrastani (ca. 1080–1153), who spent most of his career in his homeland of southeastern Iran, and Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (1149–1209, not to be confused with Abu Bakr al-Razi the physician whom we saw in Chapter 5), originally from Rayy, but who spent most of his career in what is today Afghanistan. Both scholars used arguments that employed new philosophical conceptions and logical methods, and the organization of al-Razi’s work reveals his philosophical bent. In the first part of his theological work, he lays the logical and epistemological framework for his work; then he discusses metaphysical issues such as being, necessity, and possibility; and only then does he discuss the doctrine of God and other religious topics.
By the thirteenth century, a student could not expect to embark upon a course of study in theology without becoming thoroughly familiar with philosophical concepts and forms of argument as well as the long history of doctrine itself. Even the great Hanbali teacher Ibn Taymiya (1263–1328), who was unsparing in his criticism of philosophers and theologians, used his own profound command of both philosophy and kalam to attack his targets. Nevertheless, most of the ulama regarded kalam in the same way that al-Ghazali had: Theology could not lead to certainty in spiritual truths, but it was a useful tool for polemics and apologetics.
Consolidating Institutions: Sufism
The period from the tenth through the thirteenth centuries was decisive in shaping the organizational and conceptual framework for Sufism. The tenth century was a pivotal time for the mystics of Islam. As we saw in Chapter 5, al-Hallaj’s lack of caution not only cost him his life, but it also forced many other Sufis into a defensive position. In the aftermath of al-Hallaj’s execution in 922, Sufi leaders began justifying their manner of worship. Over the next two centuries, they wrote books explicating Sufi tenets in an effort to allay the anxieties and suspicions of the ulama, and most Sufis gave careful thought to the balance that they should strike between everyday ritual and the mystical path. Most found the writings of al-Junayd to be helpful in this regard. Some Sufi intellectuals began viewing their enterprise as a religious science just as law was, and wrote manuals discussing methods and technical vocabulary. As a result, by the eleventh century, Sufism had become much more acceptable to the majority of the ulama, many of whom were now Sufis themselves. Hanbali traditionalists continued to hurl invectives at Sufism, but by the twelfth century the cultivation of the inward life had become an accepted part of the Sunni experience. The Sufi experience offered a wide range of options. A practitioner could use it to develop self-discipline, to cultivate gnostic insight, or to pursue ecstatic experiences.
A powerful endorsement of the Sufi path appeared at the beginning of the twelfth century in the person of al-Ghazali, whose name is as closely linked with the history of Sufism as it is with philosophy and kalam. On the one hand, it is useful to point out that he was not a philosopher, that his contribution to kalam was less than other thinkers, and that he added almost nothing to the content of Sufism itself. On the other hand, his passionate engagement in the debates of his day contributed to the future direction of all three fields of thought. In 1095, al-Ghazali resigned his teaching post in Baghdad, apparently with the intention of abandoning his career as a jurist, theologian, and professor in order to serve God more completely as a Sufi. He apparently suffered from a severe emotional crisis that almost incapacitated him. Whether his crisis derived from a conviction that the intellectual life that he had led did not produce certainties after all, or from a revulsion at the worldliness of his fellow ulama, or from some other cause, is unclear. Whatever the reason, he lived for short periods of time in several cities of Syria (on the eve of the arrival of the Crusaders in Palestine) and Iraq before returning home to Tus. There he lived the life of an ascetic and mystic and attracted a group of followers. The Saljuq vizier persuaded him to lecture in Nishapur for three years, but he returned again to Tus, in northeastern Iran, where he died in 1111.
During this post-Baghdad period, al-Ghazali wrote a major work entitled The Revival of the Religious Sciences. In it, he argued that it was not by theological learning that one attained heaven, but rather by a life of moral uprightness and closeness to God, which could be attained through Sufi methods. Whereas theology was a necessary safeguard for true belief in its role of defending the faith, the truly pious life was the fusion of religious obligations and the mystical experience. Prior to al-Ghazali, many Sufis and critics of Sufism alike considered that the Sufi way of life began where the Shari‘a ended, but his contribution was a persuasive demonstration that, on the one hand, the truly Sufi life embraced the faithful observance of all these duties, and on the other, that the inner meaning of the Shari‘a was fulfilled in the Sufi life.
Al-Ghazali’s profound influence in this regard can be seen in the fact that the Almoravid regime implemented a policy of hunting down copies of his The Revival of the Religious Sciences and burning them publicly. Al-Ghazali had become a hero to the dissenters in the Almoravid empire because of his defense of the mystical life and his insistence on the importance of the Shafi‘i consensus in law. As a corollary of his defense of Sufism, he asserted that all learned Muslims, not just the official ulama, had a right to be heard on the issues of ethics and law. His rationale was that the combination of piety and learning was what qualified people to make public judgments, not scholastic credentials. In the conservative, highly stratified Almoravid society, such ideas were considered seditious. As a result, his followers were persecuted and his works were banned.
The Emergence of Lodges and Tariqas
As Sufism became more widely practiced, it made an important transition from an individual exercise to an organized, collective effort. The first step in this direction was the widespread appearance of residential lodges. In the first few centuries of Sufism, a student in a city typically studied with several spiritual masters. He might visit them in their homes or travel widely in order to learn from as many as possible. On the frontiers and in the rural areas, however, it was the Sufi masters who tended to be itinerant. It was there that mosques, forts, and other structures became meeting places for Sufis, and many of the buildings (except for the mosques) became temporary residences for students who would stay with the master for as long as he remained in the area. As we have seen, many of the fortresses, or ribats, of North Africa assumed this role, and soon the term ribat had both military and Sufi connotations. By the second half of the eleventh century, such lodges were making their appearance in large cities such as Baghdad and shortly could be found throughout the cities of the Dar al-Islam. At first they were used for a variety of religious purposes, but by the end of the twelfth century they were used exclusively for Sufi purposes. Such a lodge was usually called a ribat in North Africa, a khanaqa in Iran, a zawiya in most of the eastern Arabic-speaking lands, and a tekke in Turkish areas, although the high level of travel by scholars, merchants, and the pious meant that the terms were interchangeable in practically every region.
The next important step in the development of Sufism was the emergence of the tariqa, a term that has been translated as “order.” Literally meaning “path,” the tariqa was a unique spiritual discipline and an accompanying set of rituals that constituted the identity of a group associated with a particular zawiya. The tariqa consisted of a structured set of spiritual exercises to be learned and mastered by the student. These exercises were designed to bring the Sufi into direct communion with God and therefore became the focal point of the student’s concentration. The exercises included a dhikr as well as the ascetic or contemplative practices that a novitiate struggled to master on his ascent to a personal experience with God. Both the dhikr and the spiritual exercises distinguished one tariqa from another.
We know very little about the origins and spread of either the lodges or the orders, but it appears that the very presence of multiple lodges in a given city produced a momentum for each
lodge to become associated with a particular master’s spiritual discipline. Once the concept became fixed that a student belonged to a particular order, the practice of initiation into that order became the norm. Sufis were now allowed to practice the method of an order only in return for a pledge of spiritual loyalty to the master or the local representative of a given order.
Like the lodges themselves, tariqas appear to have developed first outside the major cities. They began developing in the twelfth century, but became prominent only during the first half of the thirteenth century. The Abbasid caliph al-Nasir (1180–1225), who was attempting to rebuild the authority of his office, appointed ‘Umar al-Suhrawardi (1145–1234) shaykh (“leader” or “master”) of a ribat, with the proviso that the membership associated with it be limited to those who accepted the teachings of Suhrawardi’s great uncle, Abu al-Najib al-Suhrawardi. Abu al-Najib was revered as the formulator of a spiritual discipline, and it was believed that he had a spiritual genealogy that could be traced back to the Prophet—that is, he had been taught by men who had been taught by men who had been taught by the Prophet himself.
This spiritual genealogy, or silsila, became a distinguishing feature of Sufi orders, just as the isnad was of the authentic Hadith. It guaranteed the soundness of the method by showing that it had been transmitted from one Sufi to another ever since the Prophet’s generation. The master himself had received it in its pure form, and his successors passed it on to future generations, its authenticity attested to by the collective membership. The orders themselves gained their names from the names of the master who supposedly founded them, although often, as in the case of the Suhrawardiya order, the organization was founded after the master’s death. Another such posthumous order was the Qadiriya, named after ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Gilani of Baghdad (d. 1165).
The development of the orders marked a new stage in the history of Sufism. To that point, the mystical tradition had encouraged an independence of spirit and creativity, but the crystallization of the orders meant the imposition of a rigorous discipline on those who sought spiritual enlightenment through them. No longer were the teacher and his students in a mere relationship of instructor and pupil; now they were in a relationship of spiritual guide (shaykh or murshid in the Arab world; pir in the Persian-speaking regions) and disciple (murid). Disciples were to submit themselves unquestioningly to their master. As one Sufi put it, the disciple was to be as a dead body in the hands of its washer.
Because of the new sense of discipline, generation after generation of members of a particular lodge followed the same tariqa (or believed themselves to be doing so), and thus developed a group identity. They were persuaded that the teachings associated with the order could be traced back through the generations of masters, the order’s founder, and eventually to the Prophet himself. Mystical wandering mendicants, healers, and spiritual advisers continued to be found throughout the Dar al-Islam, but henceforward the characteristic Sufi approach would be that of a disciple who belonged to a community led by a spiritual master.
Merchants or scholars who visited a city might join an order for a few months or years, and then return home and begin a branch of the order there. By this process, some of the orders gained adherents over huge areas. By the seventeenth century, the Qadiriya tariqa could be found from North Africa to India. Sometimes the branches remained remarkably faithful to the original tariqa, but in many cases the local conditions and traditions led to slight modifications in the ritual, with the result that many suborders emerged within the Sufi movement. By adapting to local needs, the lodges enabled Sufism to became a mass movement. The orders encouraged those who could to live in the lodge and to engage in the fully dedicated life of an adept, but many of them encouraged those who had families and full-time jobs to participate as much as they could, if only to engage in the dhikr once or twice a week. Moreover, the masters freely gave of their spiritual guidance to anyone in need of reassurance and healing. As a result, the masses revered them during their lifetime and sought out their tombs after their death.
A Handbook for Sufi Novices
Abu al-Najib al-Suhravardi (1090–1168), after whom the Suhravardi (in Arabic: Suhrawardi) order was named, wrote a guide addressed to novices and laymen who wished to learn the rules of conduct of a Sufi. The handbook contains less material on the stages and states of the Sufi mystical path than it does on such matters as companionship, hospitality, and specific rules dealing with particular situations. It is a revealing insight into the importance that most Sufi orders placed on adab, a term that suggests good manners, refinement, and proper behavior. The section reproduced here deals with the adab of eating.
121. The ethics and manners of eating. (Qur’an 7:31 is quoted.) One should give the poor to eat from what one is eating. One should say at the beginning of the meal “In the name of God.” If one forgets to say “In the name of God” at the beginning, he should say this when he remembers.…
122. One should not be concerned about the provisions of livelihood nor should one be occupied in seeking, gathering, and storing them. (Qur’an 29:60 quoted.) The Prophet did not store anything for the morrow. One should not talk much about food because this is gluttony. In eating one should intend to satisfy hunger and give one’s soul its due but not its pleasure. The Prophet said, “You owe your soul its due.” Food should be taken like medicine [as an unpleasant necessity]. Gluttony should be avoided. One should not find fault in any food nor should one praise it.
124. Sufis eat only food whose source they know. They avoid eating the food of unjust and sinful people. A Hadith: “The Prophet forbade us to accept an invitation to dinner by sinful persons.” The Sufis refuse to accept the gifts of women and to eat at their meals.
125. The Sufis do not disapprove of conversation during the meal. More of their rules of conduct in eating: to sit on the left leg, to use the formula “In the name of God,” to eat with three fingers, to take small bites and chew well, to lick the fingers and the bowl. One should not look at the morsel taken by a friend. When he finishes his eating, he should say, “Praise be to Allah who has made the provisions of our livelihood more plentiful than our needs.” It is not polite to dip one’s hand in the food because one can get soiled with it [one should dip only three fingers].
126. [On eating in company] A Sufi saying: “Eating with brethren should be with informality (insibat); with foreigners, with nice manners; and with the poor (fuqara), with altruism.” Junayd said, “Eating together is like being nursed together, so you should carefully consider the persons with whom you eat.” The Sufis prefer to eat in company…. When one eats in company, he should not withdraw from eating as long as the others are eating, especially if he is the head of the group. When the Prophet was eating in company, he would be the last one to finish.
130. Three obligations of the host and three of the guest. The host should present only licit food, keep the times of prayer, and should not withhold from the guest whatever food he is able to give. The guest should sit where he is told by the host, be pleased with what is given to him, and should not leave without asking permission of the host. The Prophet said, “It is a commendable custom (sunna) to accompany the guest to the door of the house.”
SOURCE: al-Suhrawardi, Abu al-Najib. A Sufi Rule for Novices: Kitāb Ādāb al-Murīdīn. An abridged translation and introduction by Menahem Milson. Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: Harvard University Press, 1975, pp. 57–59.
In the large cities, the members of the lodges were in close contact with the mosque system, and the shaykh might even be the imam of a major mosque. Thus, “middle-class” Sufism usually maintained practices and doctrines that did not run afoul of the developing cosmopolitan consensus regarding the acceptable doctrines and practices in Islam. Among the illiterate in the cities, and especially in rural and frontier areas, however, Sufi practices could include features quite unrelated to the written tradition of Islam. Some of these practices came into Sufism from local pre-Islamic traditi
ons and were initially viewed by Sufi masters as harmless baggage that enabled new converts to make the transition to Islam. Howling, fire eating, sword swallowing, and juggling became associated with the rituals of some orders.
The result was a syncretism that made some Muslims uneasy. On the one hand, the persistence of pre-Islamic religious elements facilitated the conversion of vast numbers of people who otherwise might not have found the religion attractive. By combining these elements with piety and faith in God’s love, Sufism made important contributions. On the other hand, some ulama were aghast at features that suggested ancestor worship or idolatry, as well as an ignorance of the Shari‘a. The highly charged tension continued between those who assumed the role of guardians of the Qur’an and Hadith on the one hand, and those who were willing to make compromises in order to expand the Umma on the assumption that converts would gradually assimilate into correct practice.
Speculative Mysticism
Although the mystical experience itself cannot be subjected to rational analysis or description, many so-called “speculative” mystics have tried to understand how the mystical experience is possible at all and what it can reveal about the nature of God and of the human soul. As a result, many Sufis were attracted to the new sciences and philosophy that became available as a result of the translation movement of the ninth and tenth centuries. Alchemy was highly popular among Sufis. Its practitioners were sometimes engaged in the attempt to transform base metals into gold, and they were even more concerned to transform imperfect souls into perfect ones through the spiritual discipline that alchemy offered. Some Sufis became well known for both their spiritual exercises and their elixirs.
A History of the Muslim World to 1405 Page 36
