But at times Imdad Allah opined on legal matters beyond his expertise, for which Gangohi gently admonished his Sufi master. Once a disciple of Imdad Allah’s had just returned from the Hajj and said to Gangohi that Imdad Allah gave him permission to attend a sama‘ musical assembly. When Gangohi heard this, he said, “This must be incorrect. But if he is stating the truth, Hajji Sahib [Imdad Allah] is incorrect. In such matters it is Hajji Sahib’s duty to consult us. And in matters regarding the reformation of the self, it is our duty to follow him.”82 Gangohi made it clear that Imdad Allah needed to refrain from issuing legal advice, since he did not have the expertise to do so. On one occasion, he heard disturbing rumors from Mecca. Someone who had been on Hajj with Imdad Allah reported: “We went to see Hajji Imdad Allah in Mecca, and someone there asked Hajji Imdad Allah for a fatwa for which women would be released from the obligation of performing the Hajj because of the hardships of the journey.” The man goes on to say that they stopped Imdad Allah as he prepared to issue the bizarre ruling. In light of such reports, Gangohi states: “I wrote to Imdad Allah several times asking him not to openly discuss religious controversies [masa’il] but only to explain simple facts that the people can grasp.”83
Even if the Deobandis did not believe he had sufficient legal knowledge to opine on legal controversies or issue fatwas, Imdad Allah’s ability to intuit truths about the world was renowned, such that Ashraf ‘Ali Thanvi believed Imdad Allah had experienced the unity of all being (wahdat al-wujud) and had a direct apprehension of the divine names. On one occasion, upon hearing the verse “There is no God but Him! To Him belong the most beautiful names,” [Qur’an 20:8] Thanvi says, “Hazrat Imdad Allah was so overpowered by God’s oneness [tawhid] that he witnessed the unity of being [wahdat al-wujud] as if it were right in front of him.”84 Gangohi and Nanautvi would become, for their disciples, the rare paragons of the scholar-Sufi, those who mastered both the inner and outer dimensions of Islam. Imdad Allah saw Gangohi and Nanautvi as individuals in whom the “inner” (batin) and “outer” (zahir) were seamlessly united:
Whoever feels love and devotion toward me should regard Maulvi Rashid Ahmad [Gangohi] and Maulvi Muhammad Qasim [Nanautvi], in whom the inner and outer perfections are united, as my equal, or in fact as residing at a higher level than me. Although on the surface the matter is quite the opposite [given that Imdad Allah was their master], they stand in my place and I stand in theirs.85
An oft-repeated analogy to describe the master–disciple relationship in Sufism is that the disciple must be like a corpse in the hands of a corpse washer.86 How is it then that Gangohi could disagree with his own master, Imdad Allah, and do so openly? As Gangohi’s biographer sees it, once a disciple reaches the stage at which he possesses his own connection to God (sahib-i nisbat), he can disagree openly with his master. Gangohi had attained this stage, and struck a balance between respect for Imdad Allah and fidelity to the law.87 Gangohi described his relationship to Imdad Allah, which encapsulates his thinking on the primacy of legal knowledge over experiential, intuitive knowledge, in the following terms: “No one becomes a disciple to let a Sufi master—who [in this case] is not even a scholar—judge the validity or invalidity of what one has studied and learnt; or to force the established rulings of the Qur’an and Hadith into accord with the master’s dicta. . . . If one’s master commands something that is contrary to the commands of the Shari‘a, the disciple should not accept it; indeed, it would be the disciple’s obligation to show the master the right path.”88
This complicated relationship is the context in which we must understand Imdad Allah’s attempted intervention in Faisala-yi haft mas’ala. Imdad Allah begins by telling his readers that there are inherent virtues in remembering the Prophet’s birthday. Imdad Allah himself confesses to attending the mawlud because of the blessings (barakat) one acquires. But, he says, there are a number of major debates about the mawlud: whether the Prophet’s spirit is present during the event, whether it can be celebrated only on the date of the Prophet’s birth (12 Rabi‘ al-Awwal) or on any day, and whether the mawlud is a religious commandment.
Do any of these constitute bid‘a? Imdad Allah makes it clear that he opposes bid‘a, which he defines simply as “bringing into the religion [din] that which is not part of it.”89 Imdad Allah, crucially, did not believe that setting a specific time for the mawlud is a bid‘a. What makes assigning a date illicit is then believing it to be obligatory.90 Later Deobandis, too, will insist that to regard a merely permissible (mubah) or even a commendable (mustahabb) act as mandatory (wajib) is probably the most egregious form of bid‘a. Like Gangohi, and like Thanvi some years later, he is clear that no one ought to insist on others participating as if celebrating the Prophet’s birthday were a ritual commandment. But this point applies not just to the mawlud as a whole but, equally, to standing in honor of the Prophet (qiyam), because of the assumptions about his omnipresence associated with it:
Some criticize those who do not stand in respect of the Prophet during mawlud. This is incorrect. In the view of the Shari‘a, standing is not essential, and according to the jurists, even a praiseworthy [mustahabb] action becomes sinful when it is demanded. . . . [Moreover] it is plainly objectionable to believe that one cannot attain merit [sawab] if a date for the mawlud is not appointed, or if standing in respect of the Prophet is not performed, or if sweets are not arranged. Such a belief is a transgression of the limits of the Shari‘a, just as it is reprehensible to regard a permissible [mubah] act as forbidden. In both cases, there is a transgression of limits [ta‘addi-yi hudud].91
One can see Imdad Allah grappling with Gangohi’s criticisms, especially in his definition of bid‘a. But, he says, there is also a transgression of limits from those who condemn others for believing that the Prophet is present. Implicitly responding to Gangohi, Imdad Allah states in no uncertain terms: “To regard the belief that the Prophet graces the mawlid with his presence as unbelief [kufr] and associating God with others [shirk] is beyond the pale. Both logic [‘aql] and tradition [naql] testify to the possibility of his presence, and it has actually happened on occasions.” Moreover, one can clearly imagine that the Prophet can be present without him requiring knowledge of the unseen (‘ilm-i ghayb): there are many examples, he reminds readers, of God granting superhuman knowledge to his creation.92
Ultimately, Imdad Allah resists condemning the whole mawlud because of these relatively minor infractions. This is, he says, quoting a line from Rumi’s Masnavi, like “burning one’s rug because of a single flea.”93 Imdad Allah asserts that differences over issues such as qiyam are akin to differences within branches of law (fiqh)—an argument we will see Thanvi make below before Gangohi forced him to renounce it.94 (Gangohi’s view on this was that Imdad Allah heard differing views on mawlud from various ‘ulama, and thus assumed it was akin to an issue concerning the “branches” (furu‘) of the law (mas’ala far‘iyya), about which a degree of different views is acceptable, whereas in fact it is an issue of belief (mas’ala i‘tiqadiyya), about which there can be no dispute.)95 Imdad Allah closes his discussion of the mawlud with a call for conciliation. Partisans to this debate should consider the different viewpoints over the mawlud “like the differences between Hanafis and Shafi‘is. They should meet and greet each other and continue to show love to one another. They should especially avoid criticism and debate in public because it is beneath the dignity of the Muslim scholar’s profession.”96
Ashraf ‘Ali Thanvi, too, believed that a mawlud like the one conducted by Khalil Ahmad Saharanpuri was not only permissible but spiritually beneficial. Most others, however, were not. Indeed, Thanvi offered perhaps the most systematic Deobandi treatment of the mawlud, one that reveals the textures of Deobandi understandings of bid‘a. We have already encountered Thanvi several times, but it is necessary at this point to provide a bit of background on this crucial figure. Thanvi was born in 1863 in Thana Bhawan, a small northern Indian town not far from Deoband. His father managed the
estate of a wealthy landowner in Meerut but wanted a religious education for his eldest son and sent Thanvi to the Dar al-‘Ulum Deoband, where he began his studies in 1878 and graduated in 1883.97 Thanvi made his first Hajj pilgrimage in 1884, where he took on Hajji Imdad Allah as his Sufi master, and a second in 1893, where he spent some six months with Imdad Allah. Upon returning to India, he taught at Madrasa Faiz-i ‘Amm in Kanpur until finally returning to Thana Bhawan in 1897, where he taught, wrote, and lectured from the Sufi lodge, Khanqah Imdadiyya, where Imdad Allah had lived before his exile in Mecca. In Thana Bhawan, Thanvi met with hundreds of disciples in person, maintained an active correspondence with many more via mail, issued fatwas, and wrote prolifically on Islamic law and ethics, Qur’an, and Sufism.
Thanvi struggled to reconcile the conflicting stances of Imdad Allah and Gangohi—both men dear to him—on mawlud and other issues, though ultimately the legal proclivities of Gangohi took precedence. Thanvi expressed this ambivalence during a lecture recorded by his disciple Muhammad Shafi‘:
I used to think a milad [i.e., mawlud] assembly, which is fundamentally concerned with recollecting the Prophet, was a praiseworthy and joyous occasion. In fact, even if certain evils and common errors had become included in it, I believed it was necessary to remove them, but that one should not abandon such a praiseworthy act altogether. In essence, this is the way [maslak] of our master, Hajji Imdad Allah. Because of his incredible kindness, love, and tenderness, I also felt this way. This was also the way of most of the Sufis. Maulana Rumi, too, felt this way, as when he said: “Don’t burn your rug because of a single flea.”98
Here Thanvi cites the same line from Rumi that Imdad Allah cited when he argued against dispensing with the mawlud over what he thought were minor objections.
But Thanvi goes on to explain that Hanafi law does not condone this approach: “According to the way [maslak] of the Hanafi jurists, when some act is praiseworthy [mustahabb] in principle but does not fulfill the objectives of the Shari‘a [maqasid-i Shari‘a], and evils or innovations become connected with it, or even the fear of evils or innovations, this praiseworthy act must be abandoned completely. But one must not abandon a praiseworthy act that does fulfill Shari‘a objectives on account of the presence of evils. Rather, those evils must be removed.” So, he elaborates, even praiseworthy acts that facilitate adherence to the Shari‘a—the congregational prayer, for example, or teaching and reciting the Qur’an—have occasionally become corrupted by evils (munkarat) and innovations (bid‘at). The law dictates that every effort be made to remove any corruptions from such acts. But when otherwise praiseworthy acts that do not facilitate adherence to the Shari‘a become corrupted by evils and innovations—of which mawlud is the prime example—the law dictates that Muslims should abandon the practice altogether.99
Citing Shatibi, Thanvi illustrates this principle with a story known as the Pledge of the Tree. In 628, the Prophet Muhammad assembled his followers outside of Mecca, hoping to enter the city to make an ‘umrah pilgrimage to the Ka‘aba while the Muslims were still at war with the Meccans. He sent ‘Uthman ibn ‘Affan, who would later become the third caliph, to negotiate their entry. After some time, when ‘Uthman did not return, they feared he had been killed and the Companions gathered under a tree, where they pledged to avenge him. After the event, Companions of the Prophet made a habit of gathering there because of the spiritual blessings (baraka) that emanated from the site. ‘Umar, during his reign as second caliph (r. 634–644), “felt that this tree, under which the Prophet accepted the Pledge and for which the Qur’an mentions God’s satisfaction [Qur’an 48:18], should be cut down,” Thanvi explains, “even though the Companions who had started to gather there were not doing anything impermissible.” It was the mere “danger of evils [munkarat] becoming associated with it” that compelled ‘Umar to cut down the tree.100 ‘Umar’s decision, Thanvi says, illustrates the Hanafi legal principle of preemptively obviating the spiritual dangers of any devotional practice that does not serve a broader function within the legal economy of the Shari‘a: “Hazrat Gangohi adhered to this Hanafi maslak, and did not permit participation in the milad festival on account of the evils and innovations connected to it.” But in a startling confession, Thanvi admits that this strictness conflicts with his personal disposition toward Sufi participation in the mawlud. He goes on:
At one time, Hazrat Gangohi and I disagreed on this matter, but in the end, because of the strength of the legal proofs [dala’il] against it and in the interest of preserving the religion, he elected to take the more cautious and safer maslak, but I did not believe that the maslak chosen by the noble Sufis was baseless . . . I do not oppose or hold in suspicion those noble Sufis who participate in milad assemblies that are free of evils and innovations.101
The “legal proofs” (dala’il) against mawlud to which Thanvi refers were, in his view, comprehensive and decisive. Thanvi argued that the mawlud was a bid‘a according to the Qur’an, the Hadith, and the consensus (ijma‘) of the Ummah, as well as by analogy (qiyas) with similar prohibitions in the Qur’an and Sunna—in other words, with respect to every source of Islamic law. As for the Qur’an, Thanvi cites the verse “Do they have partners [with God] who have made lawful for them some religion without God’s permission?” (41:21). “The verse makes it clear,” Thanvi says, “that it is blameworthy and reprehensible for anyone to prescribe in any religious matter, without God’s permission, meaning without a legal rationale [dalil-i shari‘].”102 From the Hadith, too, Thanvi argues that mawlud is an innovation, referencing in fact the same Hadith that Imdad Allah cites in Faisala-yi haft mas’ala: “Whoever innovates in this matter of ours, that which is not part of it will be rejected.” A Hadith from Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj, likewise, forbids specifying ritual actions in such a way that they take the form of a faux commandment: “Do not single out the night of Jum‘a [Thursday night] among other nights for prayer, and do not single out Friday among other days for fasting, unless your regular fast happens to fall on that day.” The Prophet, Thanvi explains, wanted to protect the delicate relationship between the temporal normativity assigned to Friday, the day of congregational prayer, and prayer and fasting as prescribed ritual acts of worship. God did not command the Muslims to fast on Friday; therefore, no one ought to make a habit of doing so, unless another commanded fast (e.g., Ramadan) overlaps with that day. In other words, do not fast on Friday because it is Friday. In the same way, while “in itself, [remembering] the Prophet’s birth has blessings [barakat] and virtues [fazilat],” he is clear that “specifying the Prophet’s birthday for a festival [‘eid] is neither prescribed by tradition [manqul], nor a specification that arises out of habit [takhsis ‘aadi],” but in fact those who practice it “consider it to be part of the religion [din].”103 In a commentary on the same Hadith elsewhere, he spells out the argument in even more detail: “It is forbidden by the Shari‘a, when the Shari‘a does not specify [concerning a practice], to believe that a practice should be performed in a certain way, to intentionally perform it a certain way consistently or inconsistently, even if there is no intention of specification, or to delude the masses into thinking there is a specification, even unintentionally or inconsistently. Today, it is not only the masses [‘awamm] that have been afflicted with this evil; many of the elites [khawass], especially the Sufis, have been as well.”104 For example, if a Sufi abstains from meat as a way of disciplining desire, that is perfectly fine. If he or she regards such abstinence as in itself a religious duty, that of course is a clear bid‘a. However, even for those who abstain for valid reasons, Thanvi counsels them to eat meat occasionally so as not to appear to regard it as forbidden when it is clearly permissible.105
Thanvi elaborates on his hermeneutics of bid‘a in his analysis of the mawlud in Islah al-rusum (The reformation of customs), published in 1893. Thanvi argued that there are essentially three kinds of mawlud: The first kind of mawlud assembly, Thanvi tells us, is permissible without any reservations whatsoever. T
his is a case in which some individuals gather “by chance” to discuss the life, birth, and virtues of the Prophet Muhammad. “The Prophet explained his own life and perfections in this way,” says Thanvi. They have not been forced or compelled to gather for this mawlud, and they do not engage in any prohibited acts.106 The second is completely impermissible: in this gathering, “sweet-voiced” boys sing fabricated tales, bribes and other forms of illicitly earned money are exchanged, and the organizers spend enormous sums for food and lighting in the pursuit of local fame and prestige. Moreover, participants pressure others to attend and ridicule those who do not, often skip the compulsory daily prayers, and believe the Prophet Muhammad to be literally present at the gathering.107 Significantly, though Thanvi concedes that not all mawlud gatherings of this type contain every one of these iniquities, he insists that such a gathering is completely impermissible if even one of them is present. We have already seen how, with Gangohi, the presence of one impurity infects the whole: “This type of assembly is impermissible because of these unlawful elements, and participating in it is also unlawful. Nowadays most mawluds are of this type. If perhaps not all of these unlawful elements are present, by necessity, some of them are, and a single unlawful element renders the whole unlawful, as is obvious.”108
The third kind of mawlud is described as follows:
There is neither the informality of the first kind nor the forbidden elements of the second kind. Although this form also has stipulations, they are halal and permissible [mubah]. For example, the stories told are sound [sahih] and reliable, the storyteller is trustworthy and is not seeking fame, and the money involved is halal as well. There are no decorations, and money is not wasted. The dress of the participants and the ablutions are in accordance with the Shari‘a, and if by chance something contrary to the Shari‘a happens, then the lecturer refuses it on the basis of “commanding the good” and explains necessary rules in accordance with the situation. If there is poetry, it is not set to music, and its subject matter remains aligned with the Shari‘a and is not excessive. There is no hindrance in completing the required acts of worship, and the intention of the organizer is pure and only for the sake of seeking blessings and love for the Prophet. . . . The attendees do not consider the Prophet to be omnipresent and a knower of the unseen [‘alim al-ghayb]. This assembly, in which such caution is taken, is rare.109
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