900 Jahre al-Ġazālī im Spiegel der islamischen Wissenschaften 9783737098410, 9783899719505, 9783847098416

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Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Islamische Theologie der Universität Osnabrück

Band 5

Herausgegeben von Bülent Ucar, Martina Blasberg-Kuhnke, Rauf Ceylan und Andreas Pott

Die ersten vier Bände dieser Reihe sind unter dem alten Reihentitel „Veröffentlichungen des Zentrums für Interkulturelle Islamstudien der Universität Osnabrück“ erschienen.

Bülent Ucar / Frank Griffel (Hg.)

900 Jahre al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel der islamischen Wissenschaften

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V&R unipress Universitätsverlag Osnabrück

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Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar. ISSN 2198-5324 ISBN 978-3-89971-950-5 ISBN 978-3-8470-9841-6 (E-Book) ISBN 978-3-7370-9841-0 (V&R eLibrary) Weitere Ausgaben und Online-Angebote sind erhältlich unter: www.v-r.de Veröffentlichungen des Universitätsverlags Osnabrück erscheinen im Verlag V&R unipress GmbH. Gedruckt mit freundlicher Unterstützung des Bundesministeriums für Bildung und Forschung, des Instituts für Islamische Studien und interkulturelle Zusammenarbeit (Fachbereich Erziehungs- und Kulturwissenschaften) und der Universitätsgesellschaft der Uni Osnabrück. © 2015, V&R unipress GmbH, Robert-Bosch-Breite 6, 37079 Göttingen / www.v-r.de Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Das Werk und seine Teile sind urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung in anderen als den gesetzlich zugelassenen Fällen bedarf der vorherigen schriftlichen Einwilligung des Verlages. Printed in Germany. Lektorat: Bettina Kruse-Schröder (Deutsch), Duncan Cooper & Corinna Küster (Englisch), Bacem Dziri (Arabisch) Titelbild: G˙aza¯lı¯handschrift „Ihya ulum al-din“, einzusehen in der Bibliothek „Gazi Husrevbegova biblioteka“ in Sarajevo, Bosnien-Herzegowina, die 1537 gegründet wurde. Das Foto erscheint mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Bibliothek (www.ghb.ba). © Gazi Husrevbegova biblioteka. Druck und Bindung: CPI buchbuecher.de GmbH, Zum Alten Berg 24, 96158 Birkach Gedruckt auf alterungsbeständigem Papier.

Inhalt

Bülent Ucar und Frank Griffel Vorwort . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel von Zeit und Religionen Maha El-Kaisy-Friemuth Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Dual Approach to Sufism: Between Ihya¯ʾ and Mishka¯t ˙ al-anwa¯r . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Tim Winter Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Anscombe’s Taha¯fut: Making Use of the Imam in a European Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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II. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und Islam und Wissenschaft im Dialog Merdan Günes¸ Epistemologie bei al-G˙aza¯lı¯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Silvia Horsch Die Universität als Ort des Dialogs zwischen Religion, Wissenschaft und Gesellschaft . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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III. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und kala¯m und tasawwuf ˙

Frank Griffel Al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Umgang mit der wissenschaftlichen Kosmologie seiner Zeit und was man heute daraus lernen könnte . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Gerhard Böwering The Search for Truth: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Light of His Mysticism . . . . . . 103

6

Inhalt

IV. Wahrheit, Logik, der Koran und al-G˙aza¯lı¯ Mehmet Sait Reçber On al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Necessary Truths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Martin Whittingham Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Syllogistic Logic as a Source of Certainty about the Qurʾa¯n

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V. Al-Gaza¯lı¯ und Gelehrsamkeit und Philosophie Cemil Oruç Ghaza¯lı¯’s Contribution to Morals and Values Education . . . . . . . . . . 141 Sr. Marianne Farina, CSC Theological Ethics of Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-Ghaza¯lı¯ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 ˙ Personenverzeichnis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Bülent Ucar und Frank Griffel

Vorwort

Einleitende Gedanken zum 900. Todesjahr von al-G˙aza¯lı¯ Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (1058–1111) gilt als einer der einflussreichsten und wirkmächtigsten von der islamischen Wissenschaftstradition hervorgebrachten muslimischen Denker und Gelehrten. Hier ist es von Bedeutung, bewusst den Plural zu wählen, da er als Generalist sehr breit geforscht und geschrieben hat. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Gesamtwerk stellt Bezüge zu ausgewählten theologischen Disziplinen und den dazugehörigen Diskursen her. Von Philosophie, spekulativer Theologie, kala¯m, dem fiqh und usu¯l al-fiqh, bis hin zu Fragestellungen von Ethik, Logik und dem ˙ tasawwuf hat er zahlreiche Werke verfasst, die bis heute rezipiert werden. Er ˙ wurde im heutigen Iran in der Stadt Tabaran-Tus in Chorasan um 1056 geboren und wuchs dort auf. Ihm wurden nicht grundlos die Ehrentitel Hugˇgˇat al-Isla¯m ˙ (Der Beweis des Islams) und Zayn al-Dı¯n (Die Zierde der Religion) zugewiesen. Montgomery Watt verweist sogar auf Auffassungen, denen zufolge er der größte Muslim nach dem Propheten gewesen sei.1 Er studierte bei angesehenen Geˇ uwaynı¯ (gest. 1085) und wurde 1091 im Alter von etwa 35 Jahren lehrten wie al-G zum führenden Hochschullehrer an der Niza¯miyya Madrasa in Bagdad ernannt. ˙ Als sˇa¯fiʿı¯tischer Asˇʿarı¯t blieb er der sunnitischen Tradition Zeit seines Lebens verbunden, ja er war sogar einer ihrer Wortführer. Das kritische Reflektieren und eigenständige Denken war ihm ein besonderes Anliegen und gegenüber einfacher Nachahmung empfand er eine ausgesprochene Aversion. So bemühte er sich im Bereich der usu¯l al-fiqh die Voraussetzungen für das eigenständige Räso˙ nieren (igˇtiha¯d) zu erleichtern, auch gegenüber dem taqlı¯d zeigte er sich er auf verschiedenen Ebenen stark abgeneigt.2 Nachdem er rund vier Jahre an der Ni-

1 M. Watt, Islamic Surveys, Islamic Philosophy and Theology, Edinburgh 1963, „preface“, p. vii: „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ has been acclaimed as the greatest Muslim after Muhammad, and is certainly one ˙ of the greatest.“ 2 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, al-Maʿa¯rif al-ʿaqliyya, ed. ʿA. al-Utma¯n, Damaskus 1963, S. 35ff.; ders., Faysal al¯ ˙ tafrı¯qa bayna l–Isla¯m wa-l-zandaqa, hrsg. v. M. al-Qabba¯nı¯ al-Dimasˇqı¯, Kairo 1901, S. 10–13,

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za¯miyya Madrasa gelehrt hatte, geriet er in eine tiefe Glaubenskrise und verließ ˙ sein angesehenes Professorenamt in Bagdad. Einzig rationales Erwägen vermochte ihn nicht mehr zu überzeugen, innere Ruhe fand er in sufischem Leben und Denken, welches er in der Mitte, ja im Kern des sunnitischen Denkens verortete. Beeinflusst wurde al-G˙aza¯lı¯ vermutlich von Abu¯ ʿAlı¯ al-Fa¯ramad¯ı ¯ (gest.1084), einem Schüler des al-Qusˇayrı¯ (gest. 1072).3 In der Masˇa¯yih-Kette der ˘ Naqsˇbandiyya wiederum wird Abu¯ Yaʿqu¯b Yu¯suf al-Hamada¯nı¯ (gest.1140) in der ¯ Folge von al-Fa¯ramad¯ı dargestellt. Historisch ist diese Beziehung zwar umstrit¯ ten, dennoch stellt sie einen Beleg für den großen Einfluss al-Fa¯rmadı¯ dar. AlHamada¯nı¯ war ebenso wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ der Niza¯miyya Madrasa verbunden und hat ¯ ˙ wichtige Persönlichkeiten des tasawwuf, wie Ahmad Yasawı¯ (gest.1166), al-G˙a˙ ˙ ˇ ¯ıla¯nı gˇadwa¯nı¯ (gest.1179) und ʿAbd al-Qa¯dir al-G ¯ (gest.1166) beeinflusst.4 Diese Namen sind hier erwähnungswürdig, da sie die Größe des personellen Rahmens dokumentieren, in dem al-G˙aza¯lı¯ bereits in zu seinen Lebzeiten wirkte. Ebenso erscheint eine starke Beeinflussung durch Abu¯ Ta¯lib al-Makkı¯ (gest. 996) vor˙ zuliegen.5 Ein Vergleich der beiden Standardwerke, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n und Qut ˙ ˙ al-qulu¯b, dieser beiden ähnlich gestrickten Gelehrten dokumentiert dies. Häretische Abweichungen von der traditionellen sunnitischen Lehre innerhalb von freidenkerischen Gruppierungen, wie etwa seitens der Ba¯tiniyya/Isma¯ʿı¯liyya oder ˙ antinomische Sufis wurden durch al-G˙aza¯lı¯ jedoch konsequent bis zu seinem Lebensende zurückgewiesen und sein Mystikverständnis durch eine Kette von orthodoxen Tasawwuf-Masˇa¯yih legitimiert. Gleichzeitig blieb er dem rational ˙ ˘ geprägten Wissenschaftsdiskurs im Sinne der burha¯n-Tradition bis zu seinem Tod treu, wie man es in einem seiner Endwerke, der Ihya¯ʾ, nachlesen kann. In ˙ seiner wichtigsten autobiographischen Schrift, al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, stellt er ¯ ˙ ˙ diesen Weg zwischen Philosophie, spekulativer Theologie und Mystik dar, der ihn schließlich wieder errettet und auf den rechten Pfad führt. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ gilt insgesamt als Verteidiger sowohl der sunnitisch-islamischen Orthodoxie zwischen Verfechtern eines eher esoterischen Verständnisses einerseits als auch eines sich starr an Paragraphen und Vorschriften festhaltenden Verständnisses von Religion andererseits. So gelingt ihm eine Synthese von traditioneller sunnitischer Form, der hellenisch geprägten Ratio im Wissenschaftsdiskurs und der sufisch überhöhten Kernessenz seines Wirkens, dem Herz. Auch wenn diese drei Stränge seit der Frühzeit des Islam existierten und sich sicherlich nicht durchgehend als parallele Bewegungen bestanden, vollzieht al-G˙aza¯lı¯ auf der konzeptionellen und 18. Auch kritisch gegenüber dem taqlı¯d der Prophetengefährten. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, al-Mustasfa¯ min ˙ ʿilm al-usu¯l, Bu¯la¯q 1322–1324, Bd.1, S. 268ff. ˙ Yazıcı, „Ebu Ali el-Farmedi“, in: DIA, Bd. 10, Istanbul 1994, S. 90. 3 Vgl. Tahsin 4 Fatih M. S¸eker, „Gazzali‘nin tefekkür sisteminde Horasan –Türkistan hattının yeri“, in: 900. Vefat Yılında Uluslararası Gazzali Sempozyumu, Istanbul 2012, S. 841–847, hier S. 846. 5 Vgl. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Der Erretter aus dem Irrtum, Hamburg 1988, S. 41.

Vorwort

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praktischen Ebene eine neue holistische Herangehensweise, die nach der Bildung der tarı¯qa-Strukturen vom 12–15. Jahrhundert räumlich u. a. in das Osmanische ˙ Reich, den Balkan, den Maghreb, Zentralasien, Jemen und Indien und zeitlich bis in unsere Gegenwart reicht. Erst mit al-G˙aza¯lı¯ kann man vermutlich von einer gewachsenen akademischen Struktur sprechen, da er diese drei Aspekte als weitestgehend einheitlich ansieht und bestehende Gegensätze bzw. gegensätzliche Erscheinendes, soweit wie möglich, zu harmonisieren bemüht war. Dass er aus nachvollziehbaren Gründen keiner der bestehenden Bruderschaften zugewiesen werden kann, hat sicherlich auch zu seinem guten Ruf und seiner Anerkennung innerhalb des tasawwuf beigetragen, da so eine weiterfasste Identi˙ fikation möglich wurde. Für diese Neustrukturierung, welche auch unausgereifte Brüche enthielt, erntete er nicht nur Beifall und Zustimmung. Qa¯d¯ı ʿIya¯d (gest.1149), Ibn al˙ ˙ ˇ awzı¯ (gest.1201), Ibn Taymiyya (gest.1328) und G Mustafa¯ Sabrı¯ Efendi ˙˙ ˙ (gest.1954), der letzte Sˇayh al-Isla¯m, kritisieren mit unterschiedlichen Nuancen ˘ und Argumenten al-G˙aza¯lı¯. Ibn Tu¯mart (gest.1130), Abu¯ l-Hasan al-Sˇa¯dilı¯ ¯ ˙ (gest.1258) und andere lobten ihn dafür und bemühten sich seine Gedanken zu verbreiten.6 Ein Blick in den Katalog der weltweit größten islamischen Handschriftensammlung der Süleymaniye in Istanbul dokumentiert, welch großes Ansehen und Gewicht der sˇa¯fiʿı¯tische Asˇʿarı¯t sogar im hanafı¯tisch-ma¯turı¯dı¯tisch ˙ geprägten Osmanischen Reich genoss. Hervorzuheben bleibt, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ Religion nicht als ein theoretisches Gebilde für akademische Eliten in scholastischen Laboren oder als eine Moralinstanz für die Volksmassen verstand, sondern vielmehr diese Gegensätze zugunsten eines praktisch orientierten, spirituell ausgelegten, nicht rational überhöhten, diese aber auch nicht leugnenden Religionsverständnisses auflöste. Erst durch das Wirken und die Lehren al-G˙aza¯lı¯ wurden bestehende Bruchlinien zwischen bestimmten philosophischen und sufischen Strömungen in ihrem Verhältnis zur tradierten Gelehrsamkeit einerseits aufgehoben und andererseits partiell vertieft, aber konzeptionell neu strukturiert und gewichtet. Dieses polarisierende und zugleich vernetzte Denken al-G˙aza¯lı¯s hat bis in unsere Zeit dazu geführt, dass über diese beiden Kernelemente der islamischen Zivilisation, nämlich der Philosophie und dem tasawwuf ˙ weiterhin nachgedacht und nachgeforscht wird. In diesem Zusammenhang muss vor allem auch das systematische Denken al-G˙aza¯lı¯s hervorgehoben werden, der sich sowohl im Bereich der usu¯l al-fiqh als auch im kala¯m vom rational-helle˙ nischen Denken der antiken Philosophen beeinflussen ließ. In der Übernahme, Rezeption und Weiterentwicklung der Grundregeln von Denkstrukturen sah er grundsätzlich keine großen Probleme, vielmehr beschäftigte ihn die Frage nach den inhaltlichen Diskrepanzen. Den Höhepunkt und zugleich das Ende seines 6 Süleyman Uludag˘, „Gazzali. Tasavvufî Görüs¸leri“, in: DIA, Bd. 13, S. 515–518, hier S. 517.

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wissenschaftlichen Wirkens bildete eines seiner mehrere tausend Seiten umfassenden letzten Werke, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n. Mit diesem Buch verewigte sich al˙ G˙aza¯lı¯, nicht nur im islamischen Wissenschaftsbetrieb und unter den Sufis, sondern vor allem auch in den Millieus einfacher frommer Menschen. Im Oktober 2011 fand im Schloss der Universität Osnabrück die internatio˙ aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel der islamischen Wissenschaften“7 nale Tagung „900 Jahre al-G statt, auf der Wissenschaftler aus verschiedensten Teilen der Erde zu al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit unterschiedlichen Fragestellungen und unter diversen Blickwinkeln referierten, wie die Paneltitel „Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel von Zeit und Religionen“, „Islam und Wissenschaft im Dialog“, „Kala¯m“, „Jurisprudenz und Rechtsdenken“, „Gelehrsamkeit“, „Tasawwuf“, „Truth, Logic, Qurʾa¯n and al-Ghaza¯lı¯“ und ˙ „Philosophie“ deutlich zeigen. Über drei Tage wurde hier intensiv referiert und diskutiert. Dennoch wäre es unsinnig, anzunehmen, man hätte sich diesem großen Denker in dieser kurzen Zeitspanne umfassend annähern können. Dies erweist sich angesichts seines umfangreichen Werkes und der besonderen Art seiner Verschriftlichungen, die jeweils in Ausrichtung auf den jeweiligen Empfänger verfasst wurden, als nahezu unmöglich. Der hier vorliegende Sammelband8 vereint ausgesuchte Artikel auf der Basis der Tagungsvorträge und kann exemplarisch aufzeigen, wie vielschichtig, vielseitig und wegweisend al-G˙aza¯lı¯, seine Gedanken und Einsichten sind. In Kapitel eins Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel von Zeit und Religionen untersucht Maha Elkaisy-Friemuth essayistisch al-G˙aza¯lı¯s dualen Zugang zum Sufismus anhand seiner Werke Ihya¯ʾ und Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, der sich dadurch auszeichne, dass man ˙ in seinen Werken zwei Arten des Sufismus finden könne, von denen der eine als höchstes Ziel das Erreichen der Liebe Gottes anstrebe, während der andere auf Annihilation, fana¯ʾ, und die Vereinigung mit Gott abziele. Es stelle sich die Frage, wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ diese beiden Arten des Sufismus in seinen beiden Werken Ihya¯ʾ ˙ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n und Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r miteinander verbinde und sie in Beziehung zu den Aktivitäten des menschlichen Intellekts auf der Suche nach Wissen über Gott setze. Elkaisy-Friemuth untersucht dies anhand von al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Zugang zu rationalem Wissen, seines Ansatzes bezüglich des Sufismus sowie seines mystischen Denkansatzes in der Ihya¯ʾ und dem Mystizismus in Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r. Die ˙ Autorin kommt zu dem Schluss, dass die Hauptstruktur von al-G˙aza¯lı¯s sufischem Gedankengut auf der Überzeugung aufbaue, dass tiefes Wissen einer geläuterten Seele bedürfe, die auf der einen Seite diese Seele moralisch auf die Annäherung 7 Zum Tagungsprogramm siehe URL: http://www.blogs.uni-osnabrueck.de/ghazali2011/?page_ id=38 (letzter Zugriff: 10. 09. 2014). 8 Ein kurzer redaktioneller Hinweis zur Transkribierung arabischen Textes: Alle englischsprachigen Artikel wurden nach IJMES/EI3 (International Journal of Middle East Studies/Encyclopaedia of Islam 3) transkribiert, alle deutschsprachigen gemäß der Vorgaben der DMG (Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft).

Vorwort

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an Gott vorbereite und auf der anderen Seite den Intellekt zu höchstem göttlichen Wissen hinführe. Timothy John Winter setzt das Kapitel fort mit seinem Artikel „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Anscombe’s Taha¯fut: Making Use of the Imam in a European Context“. Er leitet ein mit Gedanken zur Islamischen Theologie und Islamischen Studien, schreitet fort mit einer Fallstudie zu al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und dem Thema Intention und beschäftigt sich abschließend mit niyya und der modernen akademischen Theologie. Zusammenfassend kommt er zu den Erkenntnissen: Bei der Wahrnehmung von beiden, Anscombe (die wichtigste Schülerin Wittgensteins) und alG˙aza¯lı¯, entstehe das Gefühl, das Problem mit der Autonomie der menschlichen Intentionen sei nicht offen für eine maßgebende Lösung. Das immense Ausmaß, in dem Makrostrukturen inklusive der Hirnfunktionen bedeutungsvolles Subjekt in Bezug auf die die Mikrowelt prägenden Quantumvariablen sind, sei schwierig aufzulösen. Unabhängig davon, ob al-G˙aza¯lı¯ nun davon ausgegangen sei, dass menschliche Intentionen Spielzeug unter Gottes Kommando seien, oder nicht, er mache ihrer fremdartigen Herkunft zum Trotz subtilen Gebrauch von philosophischen Hilfsmitteln, die in Islamische Dialektik eingebracht worden seien. Auf diese Weise zeige er für Theisten im Ringen mit naturalistischem Reduktionismus einen Weg nach vorn auf. Winter zeigt weiterhin, dass die Schaffung einer Infrastruktur für eine reife Islamische Theologie an deutschen Universitäten zu einer interessanten und opportunen Zeit auf den Plan trete, in der es die Rückläufigkeit des Aufklärungsuniversalismus den Theologen erlaube, aktiv das zunehmend zerbrechliche Gebäude der traditionell säkularen Argumente anzufechten. Merdan Günes¸ eröffnet Kapitel zwei, Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und Islam und Wissenschaft ˙ aza¯lı¯“, der sich in die im Dialog, mit seinem Beitrag „Epistemologie bei al-G Abschnitte „Wissen ist Licht Gottes“, „Weg zum Wissen“, „Mittel zum Wissen (Vernunft und Herz)“, „ʿaql (Wissen durch Vernunft)“, „nubuwwa (Wissen durch Prophetie)“, „kasˇf (Wissen durch Herz)“, „Das Herz ist das Organ der Erkenntnis (kasˇf)“, „Beweise des kasˇf“ und „Erlerntes Wissen versus sufistische Erkenntnis“ aufgliedert. Im letzten Abschnitt fasst Günes¸ den Widerspruch zwischen emotionalem Wissen und vernunftgetragenem Wissen mit al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Sichtweise zusammen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ erkläre, dass erlerntes Wissen nicht zwangsläufig ein Hindernis für sufistische Erkenntnis darstelle: „Wenn sich ein Gelehrter von allem angelernten Wissen frei macht und sein Herz nicht dadurch gefangen sein lässt, so wird ihm das frühere Wissen nicht zur Scheidewand. […] Denn jene Glaubenssätze, die das gemeine Volk lernt, sind nur das Gehäuse für die Wahrheit, nicht die Wahrheit selbst. Die wahre Erkenntnis besteht darin, dass man jene Wahrheit von dem Gehäuse unterscheiden lernt, so wie das innere Mark

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von der umgebenden Haut.“9 Zur Verdeutlichung bediene sich al-G˙aza¯lı¯ eines Gleichnisses. „Das Herz vergleicht er mit einem Wasserbecken und die Sinne mit Bächen, durch die das Wasser sich von außen in das Becken ergießt. Wenn du nun willst, dass das klare Wasser aus dem Grunde des Beckens emporquellen soll, so musst du jenes Wasser ganz daraus entfernen und all den schwarzen Schlamm, den es mitgeführt hat, heraus tun, all die Bäche verstopfen, und dann den Grund des Becken aufgraben, damit das reine klare Wasser aus dem Innern des Beckens emporquillt.“10 „Die Universität als Ort des Dialogs zwischen Religion, Wissenschaft und Gesellschaft“ lautet der Titel des Artikels von Silvia Horsch, die sich zunächst mit den unterschiedlichen Ausgangssituationen al-G˙aza¯lı¯s und des modernen Europas bezüglich der religiösen Wissenschaften zuwendet, um weiterführend die verschiedenen politischen und gesellschaftlichen Erwartungen herauszuarbeiten, den Nutzen religiöser Wissenschaften für die Glaubensgemeinschaft herauszustellen und abschließend auf den interdisziplinären Dialog und die „Erneuerung“ des Islams einzugehen. Auf dem Weg zur Entwicklung zeitgemäßer muslimischer Positionen müssten die Reduktionen, welche die Moderne mit sich gebracht habe, erst einmal überwunden werden – so Horsch. Hierbei könne es nur von Gewinn sein, wenn die Lehrstühle für islamische Religion mit denen der Islamwissenschaft, aber auch anderen Wissenschaften kooperierten und sich dabei auch den wissenschaftlichen Methoden und Fragestellungen, insbesondere der Postcolonial und Gender Studies, sowie der Diskurstheorie öffneten. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sei offen gewesen für Methoden und was die Inhalte beträfe, sei für ihn die Offenbarung das Kriterium der Unterscheidung dessen, was annehmbar sei und was nicht. Ihm sei es möglich gewesen, „fremden“ Traditionen selbstbewusst gegenüber zu treten – ohne vorauseilende Abwehr und ohne eilfertige Nachahmung. Dieses Selbstbewusstsein müssten Muslime erst wieder erlangen. ˙ aza¯lı¯s Umgang mit der wissenschaftlichen Frank Griffel schreibt über „Al-G Kosmologie seiner Zeit und was man heute daraus lernen könnte“ im ersten Teil von Kapitel drei, Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und kala¯m und tasawwuf. Griffel kommt zu den ˙ Schlussfolgerungen, dass man von al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Umgang mit den „exakten“ Wissenschaften lernen könne, dass Religionsgelehrte weithin überzeugende Erklärungen nicht anzweifeln sollten, denn für „al-G˙aza¯lı¯ galt: Was bewiesen werden kann, muss auch in der Religion gelten.“11 Zum Zweiten zeigt Griffel, dass scheinbar wissenschaftlich erwiesene Kosmologien, die allerdings mit den Leh9 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Das Elixier der Glückseligkeit, übers. v. Helmut Ritter, Eugen Diederichs, München 6 1996, S. 62. 10 Ebd., S. 61. ˙ aza¯lı¯s Umgang mit der wissenschaftlichen Kosmologie seiner Zeit und was 11 Frank Griffel, „Al-G man heute daraus lernen könnte“, in diesem Band, S. 89–102.

Vorwort

13

ren einer Religion unvereinbar seien, al-G˙aza¯lı¯s folgend, durchaus „überzeugend und elegant in ihre epistemologischen Schranken gewiesen werden können.“12 Aussagen von heutigen Wissenschaftlern, dass in der zeitgenössischen Kosmologie kein Platz für Theologie bestünde, zeigten lediglich, dass diese damit weit über den Bereich ihres Sachverstandes hinausgingen. Denn, was solle die Theologin oder den Theologen davon abhalten, den Urknall und alle sich daraus ergebenden Wirkungen als eine Folge von Gottes Willen zu verstehen? Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ untermauere Gottes Omnipotenz und Gottes Wille mit Hinweis auf die Koranverse 33:62 und 48:23. Kapitel drei wird weitergeführt von Gerhard Böwerings „The Search for Truth: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Light of His Mysticism“. Der Autor macht sich auf die Suche nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Denkensart, seinen Positionierungen, der Vielschichtigkeit seines Wissens und stellt fest, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ kein eindimensionaler Denker war, sondern ganz im Gegensatz versuchte Gedankentangenten zu schlagen. Böwering zitiert hier Ibn Rusˇd (1126–1198), der feststellte, al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sei Asˇʿarı¯t mit den Asˇʿarı¯ten, ein Philosoph mit den Philosophen und ein Sufi mit den Sufis. Herkunft und Ziel seiner Suche nach Wahrheit zentrierten sich in der profunden Einsicht, dass der Gipfel des menschlichen Wissens aus göttlicher Inspiration bestünde. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ war gut vertraut mit islamischer Tradition, dem Koranstudium, tafsı¯r (Korankommentar), hadı¯t (prophetischer Tradition), fiqh ( Juris˙ ¯ prudenz), kala¯m (Theologie), falsafa (Philosophie) und tasawwuf (Sufismus, ˙ islamischer Mysticismus), jedoch übte er sich nicht nur in Schultradition. In seiner Suche nach Wahrheit habe er sich von unangebrachten Vergangenheitsmustern gelöst. Wahrheit, Logik, der Koran und al- G˙aza¯lı¯ lautet der Titel von Kapitel vier und darunter vereinen sich die englischsprachigen Artikel „On al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Necessary Truths“ von Mehmet Sait Reçber und „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Syllogistic Logic as a Source of Certainty about the Qurʾa¯n“ von Martin Whittingham. Reçber macht sich im Werk al-G˙aza¯lı¯s auf die Suche nach Hinweisen zu dessen Einstellung bezüglich notwendiger Wahrheiten und fasst zusammen, dass es den Anschein habe, dass gute Gründe dafür existierten, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in Bezug auf notwendige Wahrheiten ein Realist sei, auch wenn sich dieses nicht ausreichend explizit in seinen Schriften nachweisen lasse. Sicherlich möge es verschiedene Ausprägungen davon geben, ein Realist bezüglich des Aspekts der notwendigen Wahrheiten zu sein und es möge interessant sein, darüber zu diskutieren, welche Art von Realismus al-G˙aza¯lı¯ selbst vorausgesetzt haben mag. Reçbers Überlegungen weisen darauf hin, dass man al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Intuitionen in Bezug auf notwendige Wahrheiten kaum mit dem konventionellen Blick auf logische Modalitäten oder

12 Ebd., S. 99.

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einer instrumentalisieren Konzeption von notwendigen Wahrheiten verbinden könne. Whittingham nähert sich al-G˙aza¯lı¯ auf dem Wege des Syllogismus, erklärt zunächst diese Schlussfolgerung in der Logik und fragt dann, wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ die logische Schlussfolgerung zum Verständnis des Korans nutzt. Aufzeigen kann Whittingham, wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ wie davon ausgeht, dass der Koran Sicherheit hervorbringe. Er unterstreicht, dass diese Theorien die Produkte der Analysen eines Menschen von vor vielen Jahrhunderten seien. Dennoch böten Sie eine wichtige Vorgabe für Muslime des 21. Jahrhunderts, um abzuwägen, welche Beweise der Verlässlichkeit des Korans und seiner Fähigkeit, Sicherheit herzustellen, heutzutage die überzeugendsten seien. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ setze ein Beispiel dadurch, dass er die Implikationen der syllogistischen Logik untersuche, einer zu seiner Zeit prominenten Wissenstheorie, und wie dies im Bezug zum Koran stünde. Sein Anliegen mit der Anwendung der besten zeitgenössischen Argumentationsweisen feste Anker für den Glauben einzurichten, lasse die Fragestellung auftauchen, wie heutige Muslime zeitgenössisches epistemologisches Gedankengut optimal nutzen könnten, um den Glauben erforschen und verstehen zu können. Dies sei eine Frage, die Muslime innerhalb und außerhalb Deutschlands beträfe. Kapitel fünf Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und Gelehrsamkeit und Philosophie schließt diesen Band mit den Beiträgen „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Contribution to Morals and Values Education“ von Cemil Oruç und dem Artikel von Marianne Farina „Theological Ethics of Abu¯ Ha¯mid Al-Ghaza¯lı¯“. Oruç erklärt, dass der Unterschied zwischen ˙ der Menschheit und allen anderen Kreaturen darin liege, dass der Mensch in der Lage sei ein moralisches Leben zu führen und sich dazu entscheiden könne, diese Lebensart in die Gesellschaft hineinzutragen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, der das Herz ins Zentrum der menschlichen Existenz setzte, behaupte, dass es diese Flexibilität den Menschen erlaube das Wesen zu werden, das Allah am nächsten komme. In einem normativen Sinne komme dem Herzen eine besondere Wichtigkeit bezüglich Moral- und Werteerziehung zu. Indem al-G˙aza¯lı¯ annehme, dass sich Erziehung im Herzen zentriere, sehe er einen Lehransatz voraus, der mit göttlicher Inspiration ausgerüstet Menschen dazu befähige, den ersten und einzigen Allah zuerst zu kennen, sich Seiner stets zu erinnern und ihn immer ins Zentrum zu stellen, in jeder Lebensphase. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ erinnere daran, dass eine Moral- und Werteerziehung im Alter von drei Jahren begonnen werden könne. Da er niemals Moral und Werte von Religion separiere, unterstreiche er, dass das Unterrichten von Moral in Verbindung mit religiöser Erziehung in diesem Alter beginnen solle. Der Koran und die Hadithe im Besonderen böten zahlreiche Beispiele an Extremen für sowohl positive als auch negative moralische Werte. Tatsächliche und fiktionale Beispiele könnten den Kindern als Rollenmodelle dienen und Auswirkungen auf alle Elemente ihrer Entwicklung haben. Da Kinder unweigerlich Ältere kopierten, spielten diese Rollenmodelle eine entscheidende Rolle in ihrer

Vorwort

15

moralischen Entwicklung. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ habe ausgesagt, dass Kinder in Lage seien, diese Modelle anzunehmen und später im späteren Leben entsprechend handelten; er schlage weiterhin vor, eine von Liebe umrahmte Moral- und Werteerziehung aufzubauen, die alle Ebenen der Entwicklung umfasse, ohne jedoch Überdruss auf der Seite des Kindes zu schaffen. „Theological Ethics of Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-Ghaza¯lı¯“ von Marianne Farina unter˙ sucht im ersten Teil al-G˙aza¯lı¯s theologische Ethik- und Tugendtheorie. Sie bietet eine Analyse der Theorie al-G˙aza¯lı¯s, die auf seinem Verständnis der Ausformung von Tugend basiert. Ausgehend von der Auseinandersetzung mit seiner Ihya¯ʾ ˙ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n zeigt ihr Artikel, wie seinen Schriften folgend das Erinnern an Gott ein essentielles Prinzip des moralischen Lebens sei. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ glaube, dass diese Erinnerung, die eine vertiefende Wahrnehmung von Gott-Bewusstheit (taqwa¯) einschließe, der Ausgangspunkt für die Entwicklung eines großartigen Charakters sei. Jene, die sich Gottes erinnerten, blieben achtsam gegenüber Gott und näherten sich Gott weiter an. Diese Intimität trenne sie nicht von der Welt, sondern ermögliche es ihnen, ganzheitlicher in die Verehrung Gottes und in den Dienst an anderen einzutreten. Der zweite Teil des Artikels beleuchtet christlichtheologische Ethik, speziell die von Thomas von Aquin, schließt einen Vergleich der Schriften von al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und von Aquin ein und verweist auf Unterschiede und Ähnlichkeiten in ihren Theorien. Schließlich identifiziert dieser Vergleich weitere Untersuchungsfelder der Ethiken von al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und von Aquin. Es gebe viel zu lernen über die Lehre von Ethik. Es zeigten sich nicht nur sich teilweise überschneidende praktische Theorien sondern man würde durch die Auseinandersetzung damit tiefer hineingezogen in den Reichtum von Sekundärtheorien. Dies sei besonders wegweisend für die Weiterentwicklung von Studium und Dialog.

I. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Spiegel von Zeit und Religionen

Maha El-Kaisy-Friemuth1

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Dual Approach to Sufism: Between Ihya¯ʾ and ˙ Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r

In studying al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s approach to mysticism, we find ourselves confronted with two kinds of Sufism at the same time, one which at its highest stage aims at achieving the love of God and another which is directed towards annihilation, fana¯ʾ, and union with God. In Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ also declares that ˙ the Sufi in the stage of al-mahabba, love, is longing to see the Beloved; but this ˙ vision is granted only in the life to come.2 It is the reward for those who longed to witness God in this life.3 However, in Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r he confidently claims that the Sufi saints, al-ʿa¯rifı¯n,4 will have a vision of God in this life. At the end of the Mishka¯t, he describes this vision as “the august glories of His face – the First, the Highest – burned up everything perceived by the sight and the insight of the observers.”5 Only through this vision, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains, can the Sufi experience the reality of who God is.6 Thus we are here, indeed, facing a problem regarding whether al-Ghaza¯lı¯ presents an orthodox or a heterodox concept of Sufism? These were, undoubtedly, the two kinds of Sufism which were present in Baghdad at the time 1 Parts of this article have been published in the author’s book: Maha El-Kaisy-Friemuth, God and Humans in Islamic Thought: ʿAbd al-Jabba¯r, Ibn Sı¯na¯ and al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Routledge, London 2006 & 2011. 2 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1998, vol. IV, (Kita¯b al-Mahabba), ˙ pp. 375, 386, ˙374. 3 Ibid., p. 374. 4 We follow here David Buchman in translating the word ʿa¯rif as Gnostic; we believe, however, that the kind of Sufism which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ introduces mainly in Misˇka¯t has similarities with the practices of early Christian Sufi saints who had the following beliefs: 1. true knowledge is inspired by the divine world; 2. the human soul belongs to the divine world, and its role in this world is mainly to recognise its origin; 3. the material world is to be denounced. See Robert M. Grant, Gnosticism and Early Christianity, New York/London 1959, pp. 10–13. However, we predominately use the term “Gnostic” here in order to distinguish the kind of Sufism which he describes in Misˇka¯t from that of the sa¯likı¯n of Ihya¯ʾ. ˙¯ r, trans. David Buchman, Brigham Young 5 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche of Lights, Misˇka¯t al-anwa University Press, Provo 1998, p. 51. 6 Ibid.

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when al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was teaching at the Niza¯miyya School: the orthodox school of al˙ Muha¯sibı¯ (d. 857 CE) and the heterodox school of al-Junayd (d. 910 CE). Al˙ Muha¯sibı¯’s mysticism rests on two factors: self-examination, muha¯sabat an-nafs, ˙ ˙ and readiness to suffer in the service of God. Achieving these goals lies in understanding the inward aspect of Islamic belief, which is rooted in the spirit of obedience and devotion.7 Al-Junayd followed to an extent al-Muhasibı¯ in as˙ serting the importance of obeying God’s commandments8 but also followed heterodox doctrines of mystical union. The human soul, for al-Junayd, originated from God as an idea in His eternal knowledge. He bases this idea on the Qurʾa¯n 7:171, where God confronted all human souls before coming into existence and made a covenant with them. For al-Junayd, this pre-existence of the soul was its original existence as an idea in the divine mind. There are two words which are important for al-Junayd: the word “Be”, which, according to the Qurʾa¯n, is the commandment of creation, and means, for al-Junayd, the separation from the divine ideas and its existence in the human image. The second word is “union” which brings the soul back to its origin.9 This kind of Sufism is heavily influenced by Neoplatonic and Indian mysticism, as will be explained in the course of this essay. The question here is, how does al-Ghaza¯lı¯ combine these two kinds of Sufism in his two works Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n and Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r and relate them to the ˙ activities of the human intellect in its search for the knowledge of God? In this essay, I argue that although al-Ghaza¯lı¯ adopts both al-Muha¯sibı¯’s and al-Junayd’s ˙ forms of Sufism, he presents a consistent approach to Sufism which combines both: the first form of Sufism which aims at guiding the pious ordinary Sufi, and the second which provides the secrets of the utmost hopes of the mystic path. Both forms are complementary to one another and provide the arguments with which the ordinary Sufis are able to recognise their own abilities and accept that there are secrets which cannot be reached but are rather revealed only to some Sufi saints. They are also complementary in the sense that one provides the preliminary stages for the other, as al-Ghaza¯lı¯ shows in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n. ˙ This essay will also examine al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s concept of annihilation, fana¯ʾ, and union, ittiha¯d, in order to distinguish between his understanding of those con˙ cepts and al-Bista¯mı¯’s and al-Halla¯j’s experiences of fana¯ʾ and ittiha¯d. ˙ ˙ ˙ This paper will start by providing al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s approach to knowledge in order to lay the ground for his understanding of how to reach the certain knowledge of God. After providing this foundation, we move on to examine in two successive 7 Majid Fakhry, A History of Islamic Philosophy, Longman, London 21983, p. 237. 8 Robert C. Zaehner, Hindu and Muslim Mysticism, Oneworld, Oxford 1994, p. 146. 9 Ibid., p. 139. Zaehner explains that the unity of God for al-Junayd means the separation of the contingent (soul) from the eternal (God). He considers this idea to be influenced by the dualistic idea of God in Indian mysticism.

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Dual Approach to Sufism

21

sections his approach to Sufism in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n and Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r ˙ respectively.

1.

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Approach to Rational Knowledge

The question about whether al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was a philosopher or a Sufi will remain an interesting theme for everyone who studies al-Ghaza¯lı¯.10 This enigma mainly emerges from the weight which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ gave to rational inquiry and the logical analysis of human thoughts and arguments. At the end of Mı¯za¯n, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ mentions three ways of knowing God: by following teachers and parents, by following instructions in demonstrative methods, and finally by following what one believes in one’s heart through direct disclosure.11 Watt identifies these methods with what al-Ghaza¯lı¯ elsewhere terms taqlı¯d, ʿilm and dhawq.12 It may be helpful at this point to examine these three ways of acquiring knowledge. Frank, in his article “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Taqlı¯d”, explores al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s position towards the acquisition of true knowledge.13 He explains that people can become knowledgeable in three main ways: by tapping into the knowledge of others, by obtaining demonstrative proofs through original thinking; or by direct inspiration. Original thinkers, however, are very few and far between; most people follow others, muqallidu¯n.14 Taqlı¯d,15 for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, explains Frank, is a legitimate way of knowing, which requires an individual rational conviction.16 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s response to this concept is simply to recall the first Bedouin believers whose assent, tasdı¯q, to the Prophet did not depend on rational demonstration but was instead ˙ 10 Binyamin Abrahamov attempts in his article “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Supreme Way to Know God” in Studia Islamica, 77 (1993), to prove that al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s approach was more rational than mystic, pp. 141–167. 11 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mı¯za¯n-al-ʿamal, ed. S. Dunya¯, Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1965, p. 406. 12 Hava Lazarus-Yafeh, Studies in al-Ghazza¯lı¯, Magnes Press, Jerusalem 1975, p. 361. 13 Richard M. Frank, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Taqlı¯d”, in: Zeitschrift für Geschichte der Arabisch- Islamischen Wissenschaft, 7 (1991–1992), pp. 207–252, pp. 209, 215. Frank here refers to the work of Farid Jabre, La notion de certitude chez Ghaza¯lı¯, Paris 1958. 14 Frank, “Taqlı¯d”, pp. 207–208. 15 Taqlı¯d, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains, is related to the faculty of wahm, estimation. This faculty is the highest intellectual ability of the practical intellect; and, although it abstracts images and transfers them into ideas, these ideas are very much related to sensible experience. It presents ideas which are dependent on empirical experience as true rational concepts. They are easy to accept because of their natural appeal to the human mind. This faculty, therefore, is quite deceptive, as it makes people believe that their reflections are purely rational, whereas in reality they are fully contingent on empirical experience. Frank explains that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ shows in Munqid that even the philosophers are misled by this faculty in their metaphysical prin¯ ciples when they depend on concepts which the mind can accept merely because they are familiar. See Frank, “Taqlı¯d”, p. 248. 16 Ibid., p. 219.

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based on a simple assent to what the Prophet proclaimed. This simple assent probably lies in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s belief of the natural knowledge of God which is present in each soul through the fitra.17 However, this theory of taqlı¯d seems to be ˙ influenced by Ibn Sı¯na¯’s logical theory of tasawwur and tasdı¯q. At the beginning ˙ ˙ of Naja¯t, Ibn Sı¯na¯ explains that, while tasawwur means forming concepts on ˙ one’s own account, tasdı¯q refers to the process of granting assent.18 ˙ Taqlı¯d, however, has many levels al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains, the lowest of which is the simple assent of the believer to the Prophet and the first caliphs, as-salaf. Theologians and philosophers are also considered muqallidu¯n, explains Frank. For al-Ghaza¯lı¯, there are very few theologians who have original proofs and demonstrative methods capable of underpinning their knowledge. Most theologians are content with being good followers of their teachers and the line of their school without themselves fully understanding the counter-positions and without examining the key principles of their school of thought.19 Philosophers are also a kind of muqallidu¯n; although they expend great effort in learning philosophy, they principally follow the philosophy and the ideas of others; even so, they need to be highly intellectual to understand these ideas. Muslim philosophers are, in the view of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, deluded if they claim to give assent to the Prophet because in reality they are only following and assenting to other earlier philosophers.20 Moving to his second theory of acquiring rational knowledge, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ mentions the method of knowing through fitra, innate knowledge. In his view, ˙ recalling the knowledge which he believes to have been implanted in each soul requires following the process of learning, which takes place in the theoretical intellect. Human intellect, as al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains in Mı¯za¯n, is divided into practical and theoretical faculties. The theoretical looks into abstract subjects, such as possessing knowledge of God and the divine world. The practical intellect steers the behaviour of the soul in its relation to the body in order to direct it towards the acquisition of divine knowledge. Theoretical intellect, for its part, has three qualities: the first is the potential ability to perceive abstractions, which everyone possesses to a different degree, the second is the perception of necessary and self-evident knowledge; and finally, the highest quality is the ability to acquire knowledge about abstract universal notions, such as humanity, God and the angels.21 The knowledge of God and the 17 Ibid., p. 213. See also al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Iqtisa¯d fı¯ l–iʿtiqa¯d, al-Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1320 AH, p. 15; and idem, Ilja¯m al-ʿawa¯mm, in: ˙idem, Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Da¯r alMasˇriq, Beirut 1986, p. 77. 18 Ibn Sı¯na¯, Al-Naja¯t, Cairo 1938, pp. 3–4. 19 Frank, “Taqlı¯d”, p. 241. 20 Ibid., pp. 245–249. 21 Ibid., pp. 203–206.

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divine world comes directly under the theoretical intellect. This acquiring faculty, which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ calls al-mufakkira, has the ability to obtain a result from two related ideas.22 It follows the logical method of syllogism; the syllogistic manner of thinking being consequently, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, somehow also implanted in the intellect. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, in al-Qista¯s al-Mustaqı¯m, goes further by demonstrating ˙ that this is also the manner of the argumentation of the Qurʾa¯n.23 The peak of intellectual ability is, however, the prophetic faculty. This faculty can possess acquired knowledge without going through the aforementioned learning processes.24 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, unlike Ibn Sı¯na¯ but in line with al-Fa¯ra¯bı¯, believes that the human intellect itself has the ability to obtain results without outside assistance. But his trust in the human intellect lies probably in his belief that it possesses knowledge through fitra and only needs to transform this knowledge from the potential ˙ stage to the active one.25 Thus al-Ghaza¯lı¯ shows that the human intellect is able, by the careful use of the methods of logic, to come close to the true knowledge of God. Nevertheless, certitude can only be reached when the veil between humans and God is removed and vision is granted. He cites the example of knowing with utter certainty that Zayd is at home when we see him; all other methods, such as hearing his voice or knowing of his presence through report, do not present the same kind of certainty as seeing him.26 Thus the only certitude of the true knowledge of God is presented in the mystical personal experience. At this point we come to the station where the human intellect gains certainty through ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa. This science is based upon revelation and inspiration, which are two distinct ways of receiving direct knowledge. These two forms of knowledge uncover the Preserved Tablet, the place where “God wrote a copy of the sciences (al-ʿilm) from its beginning to its end on a Preserved Tablet and then created the world according to this copy”.27 There are two ways of understanding the idea of the Preserved Tablet: the first is that there exists a certain place in the malaku¯t where the idea of creation and its destiny are presented in some mysterious manner; the second is that this eternal knowledge flows from God to one of the angels, who in turn communicates this knowledge to the prophets, and this is symbolised in the idea of the Preserved Tablet.28

22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p. 37. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Qista¯s al-mustaqı¯m, in: idem, Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mı¯za¯n,˙ p. 207; also The Niche, p. 37; and Ihya¯ʾ, vol. III, (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), p. 12. ˙ Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mı¯za¯n, p. 334. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. III, (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), p. 21. See also Frank, “Taqlı¯d”, pp. 228–229. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ih˙ya¯ʾ, vol. III, (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), p. 27. ˙ Niche, pp. 13–14. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The

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Thus the Preserved Tablet, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, symbolises the concept of secret knowledge, which, although it does not contradict rational knowledge, cannot be approached through fitra or syllogistic logics. The first way of unveiling the ˙ Preserved Tablet is through revelation. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ points out in Iqtisa¯d that ˙ prophecy is both a free choice and a grace of God offered to whomever He chooses; it is not a result of a natural phenomenon as Ibn Sı¯na¯ would claim. In this point, as Rahman maintains, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ follows the main line of orthodox theologians who believe that prophecy is a supernatural event fully intended by God for a certain purpose.29 God is also not obliged to assist the human intellect in obtaining knowledge of the malaku¯t as the Muʿtazilites believe, but His gift of prophetic message is an act of pure grace.30 The second form of uncovering the Preserved Tablet is inspiration. LazarusYafeh points out a passage in Ihya¯ʾ where al-Ghaza¯lı¯ shows that the stage of ˙ prophecy is also attainable by some Sufis: [W]hen this [scil. prophecy] is possible for prophets then it is possible for others, for the prophet is a person to whom the realities of things are unveiled and who is involved with improving human morality. Therefore it is not impossible that there exists a person to whom the truth is uncovered but who does not have a mission to lead. We do not call him a prophet but a Saint, walı¯.31

Inspiration differs from revelation in two main aspects: in its clarity and in the way it is obtained. Inspiration as experienced among Sufis, so al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains in Mı¯za¯n, is a flash of light, which comes and goes, some staying longer than others.32 This light reveals parts of the knowledge of the Preserved Tablet. Since inspiration and revelation have the same source, the Preserved Tablet, they must both cover the same knowledge, with the difference that revelation is given as a whole, while inspiration uncovers only parts.33 Inspiration then is able to discover the meaning of some esoteric Qurʾa¯nic passages, such as “everything is perishing except His face” (Q. 28:88) or a verse about the angels, “We are those ranged in ranks; we are they that give glory” (Q. 37:165–66), or disclose esoteric metaphors, such as the chair, the throne, the pen, the Preserved Tablet.34 This inspired

29 Fazlur Rahman, Avicenna’s Psychology. An English Translation of Kitab al-Najat, Book II, Chapter VI, with Historico-Philosophical Notes and Textual Improvements on the Cairo Edition, Oxford University Press, London 1952, pp. 93–94. 30 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Iqtisa¯d, p. 88. ˙ 31 Lazarus-Yafeh, Studies, pp. 304–306, see also al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. III, (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), p. 33. ˙ 32 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mı¯za¯n, p. 223. 33 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. I, (al-ʿIlm), p. 32, here writes a passage outlining the role of inspiration, ʿilm al-muka¯˙ˇsafa, and gives a long account of interpretations of the meaning of prophecy, the meaning of angels, the malaku¯t of heaven and earth, the balance, judgement etc. 34 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n, Da¯r al-Masˇriq, Beirut 1988, p. 30. See also idem, The Niche, pp. 16–18.

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25

knowledge is what al-Ghaza¯lı¯ calls in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa,35 which can only ˙ be received through the mystical path, as is explained in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n and ˙ Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r below. To conclude, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ here demonstrated four different approaches to acquire knowledge of God: the lowest approach involves gaining knowledge through taqlı¯d, in which the person accepts the methods of his teachers, parents or prophets. The second method consists in learning by carefully following the logical syllogistic system, which depends on the fitra, necessary ideas, and in˙ ferring one result from two certain premises. The third method is acquiring knowledge by receiving a light, which God casts into the heart of a few elected souls, revealing information from the Preserved Tablet. The fourth and highest method of knowing is the revealed knowledge of the prophets.

2.

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Approach to Sufism

Turning to al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s mysticism, we will here examine his approach to this science in the context of the different ways of acquiring knowledge explained in the previous section. All the methods mentioned above can be found in Ihya¯ʾ. In ˙ the introduction, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ declares that the first aim of Sufism is to obtain inspired visions of ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa; however, the conditions for this aim require to study the sciences of human behaviour, called by him ʿulu¯m almuʿa¯mala, which aim to purify the human soul.36 This stage is obtained through both taqlı¯d, here meaning to give assent to Islamic worship, and customs (the main subject of Ihya¯ʾ, volumes I and II). However, the arguments provided in the ˙ volumes run through the methods of rational knowledge which lead to the understanding of the deep meaning of worship, Islamic customs and ethical virtues. While al-Ghaza¯lı¯ informs us in the introduction of Ihya¯ʾ that he intends to ˙ present mainly the preparatory stages of ʿulu¯m al-muʿa¯mala,37 he additionally discloses a great deal of ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa, which are, according to him, esoteric and should be only revealed to a few Sufis. However, in Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r he confidently discloses that he will uncover the inspired esoteric knowledge in this work.38 The following section will then be devoted to the two forms of Sufism which alGhaza¯lı¯ develops in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n and Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r. However, before ˙ immersing ourselves in this task, we rely on a short description of both these 35 36 37 38

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, pp. 29–33. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. I, (al-ʿIlm), p. 12. ˙ Ibid. For the understanding of the term “Gnostic”, see footnote 4.

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works. Here I reproduce my own description of these two works published previously.39 Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, The Revival of the Religious Sciences,40 is his great work ˙ which consists of forty books compiled in four divisions. This work was probably written at different periods, as can be verified by comparing the first volume with the fourth, which demonstrates his mystical concepts. The first volume of Ihya¯ʾ ˙ explores the concept of worship; the second discusses the importance of Islamic customs in the preparatory Sufi stages; the third examines the difficulties which the human soul must overcome in order to reach the first stages of the Sufi path. The last section further explains the different stages of the Sufi path. The title reveals that the author wishes to present a new interpretation of religious concepts which examines and interprets the mystical dimension of religion. AlGhaza¯lı¯ illustrates in the introduction that the purpose of this work is the purification of the human soul from the destructive evil habits of the body and heart and its deliverance through a number of virtuous characteristics, such as patience, hope, asceticism, trust and love, to eternal happiness. Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r, on the other hand, is one of his late works but was probably written during the period of his Sufi wanderings. In this short work, he answers the request of a beloved student. Its main subject is to explain the verses on light contained in the Su¯rat an-nu¯r and the famous hadı¯th on the different veils which ˙ conceal God from the unworthy. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, in explaining the motif of light, takes the opportunity to explain his most sincerely held view on the Sufi concepts of annihilation and union. Here he accepts something which he rejects in some parts of Ihya¯ʾ, that the Sufi will be able to see God in this life and enter into His ˙ presence. However, he meditates on the concept of union, showing its depth: this should not be taken to mean that the Sufi becomes God but that he moves into an area where he/she cannot identify or be identified. The last chapter of Mishka¯t, however, has given rise to a number of arguments. The first to remark on the ambiguity of this chapter was W. H. T. Gairdner in his article “Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r and the Ghaza¯lı¯ Problem”.41 In this work, the author points out the problem of the image of God at the end of the chapter, which made Watt doubt the authenticity of this section.42 Since this time many scholars have argued about 39 The following two paragraphs shortly describing Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n and Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r ˙ have been previously published in my God and Humans in Islamic Thought: ʿAbd al-Jabba¯r, Ibn Sı¯na¯ and al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Routledge, London 2006. 40 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Introduction”, in: idem, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. I, pp. 12–13. Since Ihya¯ʾ was published by ˙ ˙ I will refer in this many different publishers, and the readers may have different editions, chapter both to the book which was used and to the volume in the book (M.E.F.). 41 William H. T. Gairdner, “Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r and the Ghaza¯lı¯ Problem”, in: Der Islam, 5 (1914), pp. 121–153. 42 William Montgomery Watt, “A Forgery in Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t”, in: Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, 81 (1949), pp. 5–22.

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the issue, and scholars such as Afifi, Davidson, Landolt and Lazarus-Yafeh find Watt’s assertion unconvincing.43 Having provided this short description of both Ihya¯ʾ and Mishka¯t, we now ˙ turn to examine the kinds of Sufism he presents in each of these works.

3.

The Mystical Approach in Ihya¯ʾ ˙

After examining some of the main features of Ihya¯ʾ, we will now explore the ˙ different stages of the mystic path as laid out in Ihya¯ʾ. Our aim in this section and ˙ in the following, which presents his mysticism in Mishka¯t, is to examine how alGhaza¯lı¯ combines the highest stage of the “love of God” in Ihya¯ʾ with the concepts ˙ of fana¯ʾ and union in Mishka¯t. Ihya¯ʾ presents chiefly the basic methods, while ˙ Mishka¯t is intended for those few elected Gnostics. Ihya¯ʾ is thus devoted to the ˙ explanation and elaboration of the preliminary stages of the Sufi path, although sometimes it touches upon areas belonging to the highest stages of unity with God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in Ihya¯ʾ distinguishes between ordinary seekers who wish to limit ˙ their path to the law, al-sharı¯ʿa, and others who direct their face towards God Himself. The latter group, however, is divided into beginners, whom al-Ghaza¯lı¯ calls as-sa¯likı¯n, and those who climb to the highest stage of self-annihilation and unity with God. This second group, who al-Ghaza¯lı¯ labels Gnostics, al-ʿa¯rifı¯n, wish just to devote their lives to observing the divine beauty, as will be discussed below. We observe that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ addresses mainly as-sa¯likı¯n at the beginning of each mystic stage, maqa¯m,44 but goes on to declare that the highest rank of each maqa¯m can only be achieved by the Gnostics, al-ʿa¯rifı¯n. In providing a short study on Ihya¯ʾ, the text will mainly examine the different ˙ stages of the soul’s ascent towards the mystic knowledge of God and will concentrate on the following main stages: repentance, gratitude, asceticism, trust and love, as these stages demonstrate the main features of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s mysticism. The method which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ employs in order to ascend these preliminary stages is to recognise in each stage three dimensions: knowledge, feeling and action. Knowledge examines the deep and real meaning of each stage, which produces a certain feeling in the heart. This feeling in turn initiates an action which helps the seeker to climb to the next stage. This act helps the soul to withdraw from its love of this world. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ continues to follow this method in exploring each of the preparatory stages.

43 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p. XXVII. 44 Ibid., pp. 79, 175, 263.

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In explaining the stage of repentance, he shows that in this case the knowledge is the realisation that sins are a great injury and are the veils between the seeker and God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains that human beings find themselves at a middle stage between angels and devils and probably can never become pure angels or devils. All humans, therefore, have to keep a balance between the side which brings them closer to the angels and the side which brings them towards evilness. The intellect is the weapon of the angels, but sensory pleasure is that of the devils, and the battlefield is the human soul and body.45 Thus repentance is, for alGhaza¯lı¯, not only a mystic stage but also a religious duty which is imposed on all believers. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ goes on to explain that the heart is a mirror which has the ability to reflect the secrets of the Preserved Tablet. Sin, in contrast, is the rust, which grows over time and prevents the secrets from being reflected. Repentance is the stage at which both the seekers and the Gnostics realise the meaning of sin and start polishing the mirror of their heart by striving to preserve it from its destructive habits.46 After pointing out that repentance is the knowledge of the nature of sin which produces feelings of regret and the determination to avoid the destructive habits of the heart, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains the importance of patience in fighting against worldly desires. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ subsequently explains in the same way as above the different stages, in which the highest level of each stage is more directed to those Sufis who aim to achieve a Gnostic relationship with God. Thus careful reading of Ihya¯ʾ ˙ shows that each stage of the Sufi path is addressed, on the one hand, to the ordinary Sufi as-sa¯lik and, on the other hand, to the more devoted ʿa¯rif. The next stage (maqa¯m) is gratitude. This is also produced by knowledge, which generates a feeling of gratitude and produces an action. Knowledge is the most important part of this stage; the Sufi as-sa¯lik should be able to realise the nature of God’s grace and the nature of God as benefactor.47 Recognising God’s graces consists of three positions: firstly, having joy in them without relating them to God; secondly, relating them to God but hoping to enjoy the benefit without relating to the benefactor; and thirdly, the position of the Gnostics, who consider that grace is the path which leads to fellowship with God.48 Asceticism is also an important point in the path of the Sufis, as-sa¯likı¯n. Its aim, unlike that of repentance, is to avoid religiously permissible acts such as marriage, the possession of property or even the love of good food. The desire of 45 46 47 48

Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., p. 218; see also Ihya¯ʾ, vol. III, (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), pp. 16–17. ˙ (ash-Shukr), p. 103. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. IV, ˙ Ibid., p. 105.

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the seeker, as-sa¯lik, in this stage is to turn his face to a higher form of life which is not dependent on any sensory pleasures. Thus they turn away from earthly life, directing their face towards God. Asceticism is mainly the recognition of earthly material life as a veil which conceals the nearness and the vision of the divine presence.49 This knowledge generates the following feelings and actions in three different groups of people: the first are those who still desire the pleasures of this life in their heart, though they reject them in principle. The second group believe that they have turned away from something great in order to seek something which is even greater. Their hope, therefore, resides in the pleasures of paradise. The third is the stage of the Gnostics, al-ʿa¯rifı¯n, who denounce all pleasures of this life with the aim of having the pleasure of looking at the gracious face of God. Having reached this stage, the seekers trust that the power of God would enable them to walk on water or fly in the air, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains. This trust is built on the metaphysical concept of ittiha¯d, the unity of God with the world. Al˙ Ghaza¯lı¯ considers that this concept consists of four levels: in the first level are people who believe only literally that there are no other Gods save God; the second level is made up of people who give assent to this belief with their hearts; the third level consists of people who see that everything is God’s product and creation. The highest level of all is that of the Gnostics, al-ʿa¯rifı¯n, who believe that nothing actually exists except God. The Gnostics call this level the annihilation of the self in unity.50 However, this level of God’s unity with the world, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains, should not be explained in Ihya¯ʾ, as it belongs to the revealed sciences of ˙ ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa.51 Hence, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ makes clear at this point that there is a certain level of mysticism which he does not wish to discuss publicly but only hints at. He emphasises once more that when some Sufis reach God they lose their individuality in the oneness of God. The details of this concept are explained in Mishka¯t, as will appear below. Thus at this stage, the seeker moves through trust from the multiplicity of sensible objects to the world of unity where God attracts everything to Himself. This knowledge leads to three levels of trust, tawakkul: the first delegates all authority to God and lets Him be their deputy and represent them in all things. The second level is to depend on God in the same way a child fully trusts and relies on his/her mother. The third and highest stage of trust is to submit oneself fully to the will of God such as the dead body submits to those who wash it before the funeral. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ admits that both the second and the third levels are very rare because human choice will be very limited in the second and wholly absent from 49 Ibid., vol. IV, (az-zuhd), pp. 279–293. 50 Ibid., p. 298. 51 Ibid., vol. IV, (at-tawh¯ıd), p. 297. ˙

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the third level. This is the level of the Gnostics.52 This kind of mysticism, therefore, is based on the denial of the self and its interests, on the one hand, and on a profound belief in the absolute divine decree, on the other. When the sa¯lik reaches this stage of mysticism, he is able to experience the love of God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ declares that love and the longing to see the Beloved is the highest stage of all. Love, fellowship and pure satisfaction in God’s decrees are rooted in the knowledge of the malaku¯t, which the Gnostic begins to receive. Only at this stage can we deal with revealed and inspired knowledge, ʿulu¯m al-muka¯shafa. Thus al-Ghaza¯lı¯ repeats here several times that it is not possible to reveal the knowledge of the Gnostic because the purpose of Ihya¯ʾ is mainly disclosed to ˙ the ʿulu¯m al-muʿa¯mala, and notes, “in this place we have to bring our writing to a 53 close”. The fruit of this love is adoration, ʿishq, fellowship, uns, and acceptance, rida¯, ˙ of God’s destiny. This love, however, generates a longing to witness the Beloved. The problem of seeing God has been strenuously debated among the different theological schools; the Muʿtazilites, for instance, believe that no one can see God either in this life or after death. Their argumentation is based on the concept that only material beings can be seen and that humans are not equipped to see immaterial entities.54 The Ashʿarites, in contrast, follow the Qurʾa¯n and Islamic traditions that the believers will see God in paradise. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in Ihya¯ʾ follows ˙ the Ashʿarite concept and asserts the importance of seeing God as the goal of love 55 but says that this vision will be granted after death. He explains that there are two levels of seeing: first, by remembering the image of the viewed object in the imagination, and secondly, the actual act of seeing, which perfects the image. Actual seeing, therefore, is an additional revelation to the imagined thing. Seeing is the stage of uncovering the veil of the eyelid and being able to see the thing as it exists in reality. Similarly, the soul in this world is veiled by the body from the actual and absolute witnessing of God. The vision of God, however, is witnessed through the heart since God is immaterial and not restricted to any place.56 This disclosure is not through sight but through the intellect, and the divine presence is not seen by the eyes but is present in the heart and will be disclosed fully in the future life.57 52 Ibid., pp. 314–316. 53 Ibid., p. 367. There are three levels of love: at the first, one experiences love towards oneself and to one’s image of happiness. The second level is composed of love towards those who are generous and kind to oneself. The third level is defined by the love of beauty and goodness; at this level of love the mystic experiences the attraction of the soul towards its perfection. AlGhaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. IV, (al-Mahabba), pp. 355–359. 54 Ma¯nkdı¯m˙Shesˇdı¯w, Sharh al-us˙ u¯l al-hamsa, Maktabat Wahba, Cairo 1996, pp. 248–260. ˙ abba; ˘ Dhikr al-Mawt), pp. 386, 641. 55 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. IV,˙ (al-Mah ˙ ˙ 56 Ibid., pp. 373–375. 57 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ ends Ihya¯ʾ with a discussion on the issues of punishment and reward which are ˙

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Thus the highest knowledge of God, which the Gnostics and Sufis receive in this life, is a vision of the heart, which will be perfected in the life to come. This discussion, however, is addressed to the elite who al-Ghaza¯lı¯ directs towards the highest stages of Sufism. In Mishka¯t, nevertheless, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ presents the vision held by some Sufis, who are able to reach union with the eternal knowledge of God, as will be shown below.

4.

Mysticism in Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r58

In a response to a friend, who had previously requested an interpretation of the verses of the Qurʾa¯n describing light, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ declares at the beginning of Mishka¯t that he will engage with some of the inspired subjects in this work. The reply to his friend begins in the following fashion: I see you as one whose breast has been opened up by God through light and whose innermost consciousness has been kept free of the darkness of delusion. Hence in this discipline I will not be niggardly towards you in alluding to sparks and flashes or giving symbols of realities and subtleties, for the fear of holding back knowledge from those worthy of it is not less than that of disseminating it to those not worthy of it.59

Thus al-Ghaza¯lı¯ shows here that he will disclose some of the secrets of ʿulu¯m almuka¯shafa. We note in the introduction of Mishka¯t that the intention of alGhaza¯lı¯ is to reveal the vision of God as the highest light and the different kinds of veils which obscure this vision. His aim in this discussion is mainly to demonstrate, on the one hand, the reality and the different dimensions of the concept of annihilation and union in chapter one and, on the other, to reveal in chapter three the real image of God through personal vision as well as the veils which conceal this vision. In the first chapter, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ meditates on the motif of light and, in doing so, attempts to explain and evaluate the mystical experience of God. He explains that addressed in some parts of the Qurʾa¯n and can also be found in Islamic tradition. As noted above, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in Kita¯b al-Arbaʿı¯n accepts the doctrine of spiritual punishment and reward. The importance of this point for the issue under consideration lies in the position which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ takes in the last part of Ihya¯ʾ and in Misˇka¯t, in which he supports the Gnostic mysticism which concentrates on the˙ spiritual and philosophical relationship with God. In this view, it is nearly impossible to prefer the pleasures of paradise to the great joy of observing the beauty of the divine presence. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains in Kita¯b al-Arbaʿı¯n that the Gnostics experience an eternal location where life and death have no influence when selfannihilating themselves on observance of the divine presence. See al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Kita¯b al-Arbaʿı¯n, al-Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1986, p. 207. 58 Parts of this section have been previously published in my God and Humans in Islamic Thought: ʿAbd al-Jabba¯r, Ibn Sı¯na¯ and al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Routledge, London 2006. 59 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p.1.

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there are mainly two kinds of light: the sensible light which shines on things and causes their appearance to the eye; and the spiritual light which reveals both the reality of things and the unseen world. Parallel to these two lights, two kinds of eyes also exist, the outward and the inward. While the outward eye receives the first kind of light, the second kind of light is perceived and taken in by the inward eye or the intellect. Light is attributed to both the intellect and the eye, as they transfer the reality of the world to the human soul. In its perception of divine knowledge, the intellect depends on necessary knowledge and the learning of wisdom. The highest wisdom for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, however, is the speech of God in the Qurʾa¯n. The Qurʾa¯n, therefore, is the light which links the human intellect – in its highest level, the prophetic intellect – with the light of the divine world.60 Light is also attributed to angels as, according to al-Ghaza¯lı¯, they have the role of illuminating the human intellect with revealed knowledge from the Preserved Tablet.61 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ builds here a hierarchy of light ascending from the light of the prophetic intellect to the different ranks of the light of the angels, and further, to reach the source of all lights, God the One. All the various ways in which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains the relations between the different lights in this hierarchy have caused uncertainty among scholars. He explains: [T]he low lights flow forth, fa¯ʾid (fayd), from one another just as light flows from a ˙ ˙ lamp. The lamp is the holy prophetic spirit. The holy prophetic spirits are kindled from muqtabis (iqtiba¯s), the higher spirits, just as the lamp is kindled from the light. Some of the high things kindle each other, and their hierarchy is a hierarchy of stations (ranks). Then all of them climb to the Light of lights, their origin, their first Source. […] All other lights are borrowed mustaʿa¯ra (istiʿa¯ra). The only true light is His.62

In this passage he uses three words, all conveying Neoplatonic images, which are used by philosophers. These words are: istaʿa¯ra, borrowing, iqtiba¯s, taking over from, and fayd, emanate. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ used these words to explain the relationship ˙ of the different lights to one another and of all of them in respect to God, describing them in a manner which could be interpreted as emanation. 60 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, pp. 1–10. 61 Although al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in some parts of Ihya¯ʾ explains that the angels in general are constrained ˙ different ranks according to their degree of light or to obey, he shows in Misˇka¯t that they have knowledge. He identifies in chapter 1 the two angels closest to God as being Isra¯fı¯l and Jibrı¯l. Isra¯fı¯l is in a higher rank than Jibrı¯l, as he says in the following passage: “[…] know that it has been unveiled to the possessors of insight that the lights of the dominion are likewise only to be found in hierarchy and that the light ‘brought nearer’ is the one that is closest to the furthest light. Hence, it is not unlikely that the level of Isra¯fı¯l is above that of Jibrı¯l: that among the angels is the one who is the most near because of the nearness of his degree to the lordly presence, which is the source of light.” Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p. 14. See also Ihya¯ʾ, vol. III, ˙ (ʿAja¯ʾib al-qalb), p. 8. 62 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p. 20.

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Gairdner, in his article “Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r and the Ghaza¯lı¯ Problem”, explains that Ibn Rushd believed that the theory of emanation developed by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in Mishka¯t contains some of the concepts which he had previously discarded in Taha¯fut. Gairdner endeavours to explain that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ uses a form of fa¯da: fa¯da min…ʿala¯, which may have a different meaning than emanation.63 ˙ ˙ However, Lazarus-Yafeh explains that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ uses the word fa¯da and other ˙ Neoplatonic words which mean flowing over or emanating with a moral or literary rather than a metaphysical meaning.64 Since light in this context is a symbol of knowledge, then the flowing over of light means here the pouring out of knowledge from God to the angels and the human race. This kind of emanation does not refer to the way in which the world originated from God, but instead shows how humans reach eternal knowledge.65 Lazarus-Yafeh counts the multiplicity of passages from Ihya¯ʾ and other works which use direct Neoplatonic ˙ words or images and explains that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ employs them mainly to express Neoplatonic ideas which do not contradict the tenets of Islam.66 Therefore in Mishka¯t, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ seems to be making a comparison between light and knowledge and considers the highest knowledge to be the divine knowledge, which originated in the essence of God and flows from Him to the different kinds of intellects.67 Although this idea is Neoplatonic, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ supports it with the hadı¯th: “God has created the world in darkness and then He ˙ poured upon them some of His light”,68 which clarifies the way in which the Sufi saints experience union or self-extinction. As knowledge has, he explains, its source in the eternal knowledge of God, existence as well is borrowed in full from the necessary eternal existence of God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ points out the two kinds of existence: borrowed existence and self-existence. The world is divided, therefore, into God as the only self-existent entity and the universe as the reflection of His existence. The only real existence, consequently, is the existence of God.69 This metaphorical existence is proved to the Sufi in his/her experience of annihilation. When the Gnostics, at the end of their stages of ascent, experience God as the only existent One, they experience the reality of this world as nonexistent in itself. In their ascent they move from the material multiplicity to the universal truth, through which they lose their ties with the material world. At this 63 64 65 66 67

Gairdner, “Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r and the Ghaza¯lı¯ Problem”, p. 138. Lazarus-Yafeh, Studies, pp. 308–309. Ibid., pp. 308–309. Ibid., pp. 249–259. In chapter 2, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ demonstrates that the niche, the glass, the lamp, the tree and the olive oil (the metaphor from Su¯rat an-nu¯r) correspond to the five faculties of the human soul: the sensible, imaginative, estimating or rational, reflective and prophetic intellects. 68 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, pp. 12, 63. 69 Ibid., pp. 15–16.

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stage they experience the veracity of the verse “everything is perishing except God’s face” (Q. 28:88),70 the meaning of which is expanded by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ to show that nothing really exists, for the basis of its existence is only borrowed. When the Sufi experiences this truth and sees only God, which means that his/her own existence is melted in God, he/she is fulfilled with utter amazement and therefore only aware of God’s existence. This experience is, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains, metaphorically called union, but in reality it is the experience of God’s unity as the One and only real Existent.71 However, these facts may be perceived either through an intellectual Gnosticism, ʿirfa¯n ʿilmı¯, or tasted in a mystical experience.72 Of those who have tasted it al-Ghaza¯lı¯ writes, “[their] plurality is totally banished from them and they became immersed in sheer singularity. Their rational faculty becomes so satiated that in this state they are, as it were, stunned.”73 Some of them become intoxicated saying, “I am the Real” or “Glory be to me, how great is my station.”74 However, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ interprets these statements as: [T]he speech of the lover in this stage of intoxication should be concealed and not spelled out. When this intoxication subsides, the ruling authority of the rational faculty – which is God’s balance on earth – is given back to the mystic. They come to know that what they experienced was not the reality of unification but that it was similar to unification.75

In this context, how does al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explain the reality of the experience of union which Sufis like al-Bista¯mı¯ and al-Halla¯j spoke of ? ˙ ˙ Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ rejected in some of his works the concept of union because of the impossibility of two entities becoming one unless they are totally equal, and in this case one of the two must lose its existence and become a third one.76 This, however, is impossible in the case of union between humans and God because, although they have similarities, nothing is equal to God (Q. 112:4). Therefore, for Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the difficulty of this union lies in its technical impossibility. In 70 Ibid., p. 16. 71 Ibid., p. 18, paragraph 48. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ appears here to divide the Sufis into scholars who are rooted in the mystic science, such as al-Junayd, and Sufis with deep mystical experience, such as al-Bista¯mı¯ and al-Halla¯j. ˙ 72 Ibid., pp.˙ 17, 23. 73 Ibid., p. 18. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid. 76 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ also explains in his treaty “On the Meaning of the Intimate Knowledge of God” that it is not possible to know people as they know themselves. He says, “no one can know the prophet but a prophet” and “no one can know God but God”. Union in this sense means, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, to fully identify the essence of God with the essence of the Sufi, an act which is technically impossible. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “On the Meaning of the Intimate Knowledge of God”, in: John Renard, Windows on the House of Islam, University of California Press, Berkeley 1998. See also the discussion pertaining to the union of the divine attributes with the human attributes in op. cit., pp. 151–155.

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Mishka¯t, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ probably refers to al-Bista¯mı¯’s idea of the total identification ˙ with the divine essence. In commenting on al-Bista¯mı¯ and al-Halla¯j’s experience, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ first of all ˙ ˙ sets out the difficulties which are connected with this experience by explaining kinds of visual illusions which everybody experiences: when we see a bottle of wine, we suppose that the bottle has the colour of the wine because both are unified. Accordingly, the light of the sun is unified with things when we recognise only the things and not the light. In these examples, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not deny the unification between the bottle and the wine or between the light and the things. This unification, however, does not imply that the two have become one; he maintains that they remain two (i. e. distinct) things, even though we are aware only of the one thing. Thus al-Ghaza¯lı¯ here gives two explanations of this experience: the first is that when the Sufis depart from the material world and enter the divine world, they recognise the truth that this material world is only illusion and God is the only real Existent. This is a philosophical fact which can only be experienced and perceived when the Sufi reaches the divine knowledge and sees the world through God’s eyes. The second explanation is that there is a kind of unification between the souls of the Sufis and God. With the sentence “it was not ittiha¯d but similar to ˙ ittiha¯d”, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ wishes to distinguish between identification and unification, ˙ tawh¯ıd, a concept similar to ittiha¯d. Ittiha¯d refers to two things becoming ab˙ ˙ ˙ solutely one, but unification seems to be, from the examples above, one thing circumscribing or embracing another thing so that one can see through the other. In this case, one thing can be greater than the other which it circumscribes. Here we can recall al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s concept of the essence of God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains elsewhere that God’s immaterial essence exists everywhere and is not restricted in any way. He also notes in Ilja¯m al-ʿawa¯mm that the presence of God is like a kingdom in which, whilst the throne is the closest location to the king and the outside square is the furthest, all exist within the royal kingdom.77 Thus when the souls of the Sufis, which are isolated from the body through annihilation, leave the material world and enter the malaku¯t, they enter into the divine presence. In this case, it is not possible to distinguish the boundary of the individual self, which has perished, in the divine presence. It seems that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ wishes to present here a different dimension of the idea of “union” and explains that this concept does not simply mean that two become one, but rather that the two remain two because in fact there was only ever the real One. The highest stage of mystic experience for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, therefore, is the annihilation in the divine presence and unification with the divine eternal knowledge, 77 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ilja¯m, pp. 91–92.

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which, as he mentioned earlier, flows from God and is unified with the angels and the prophetic intellect. It results in the Sufi saints’ observation of the world through the divine eye: “[…] one of them might add to this and say ‘I never see a thing without seeing God before it’. This is because this one may see all things through God”.78

5.

Conclusions

To conclude, we have seen that the main structure of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Sufi thought is contained in the conviction that deep knowledge needs a purified soul, which on the one hand prepares this soul morally to approach near to God, and on the other directs the intellect to the highest divine knowledge. Ihya¯ʾ is the reference ˙ book for this purification. Moral purification depends mainly on a profound understanding of worship and religious habits. The scattered deep ideas and concepts of God and the divine world in Ihya¯ʾ form another kind of preparation ˙ for the elite Sufis who do not only wish to be near God but also desire a vision of Him. Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r is the work where al-Ghaza¯lı¯ leads the elite to recognise the importance of the vision of God as the only possible way of knowing the essence of God and who God really is. He also explains the idea of union and shows all its dimensions. The depth of these secrets has, on the one hand, affinity to some philosophical concepts such as the Neoplatonic concepts of necessary existence and knowledge, as shown above.79 On the other hand, it is also in accordance with the experience of many Sufi saints, who have witnessed the meaning of the Qurʾa¯nic secret “everything is perishing except His face” (Q. 28:88) or “wherever you turn is the face of God” (Q. 2:115).

Bibliography Abrahamov, Binyamin, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Supreme Way to Know God”, in: Studia Islamica, 77 (1993), pp. 141–168. Daniel, Elton L., The Alchemy of Happiness (by al-G˙aza¯lı¯), trans. by Claud Field, Octagon Press (for the Sufi Trust), London 1980. El-Kaisy-Friemuth, Maha, God and Humans in Islamic Thought: ʿAbd al-Jabba¯r, Ibn Sı¯na¯ and al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Routledge, London 2006 & 2011. Fakhry, Majid, A History of Islamic Philosophy, Longman, London 21983.

78 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Niche, p. 23. 79 However, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ claims that these concepts could have been taken from earlier revelations.

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Frank, Richard M., “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Taqlı¯d”, in: Zeitschrift für Geschichte der ArabischIslamischen Wissenschaft, 7 (1991–1992), pp. 207–252. Gairdner, William H. T., “Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r and the Ghaza¯lı¯ Problem”, in: Der Islam, 5 (1914), pp. 121–153. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n, Da¯r al-Mashriq, Beirut 1988. ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, al-Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1998. ˙ ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Ilja¯m al-ʿawa¯mm, in: idem, Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, ˙ Da¯r al-Masˇriq, Beirut 1986. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Al-Iqtisa¯d fı¯ l–iʿtiqa¯d, al-Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1320 AH. ˙ ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Kita¯b al-arbaʿı¯n, Al-Mujallad al-ʿArabı¯, Cairo 1986. ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r, in: idem, Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, ˙ Da¯r al-Mashriq, Beirut 1986. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Mı¯za¯n-al-ʿamal, ed. Dunya¯, S., Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1965. ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Al-Munqidh min ad-dala¯l, Da¯r al-Mashriq, Beirut 1959. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ al-Gaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, On the Meaning of the Intimate Knowledge of God, in: Renard, John, ˙ Windows on the House of Islam, University of California Press, Berkeley 1998. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa, ed. Dunya¯, S., Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1972. ˙ al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, The Niche of Lights, Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, trans. by David Buchman, ˙ Brigham Young University Press, Provo 1998. Lazarus-Yafeh, Hava, Studies in al-Ghazza¯lı¯, Magnes Press, Jerusalem 1975. Ma¯nkdı¯m Sheshdı¯w, Abu¯ l-Husayn Ahmad, Sharh al-usu¯l al-khamsa, Maktabat Wahba, ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Cairo 1996. Nakamura, Kojiro, “Imam Ghaza¯lı¯’s Cosmology Reconsidered with Special Reference to the Concept of Jabaru¯t”, in: Studia Islamica, 80 (1994), pp. 29–46. Rahman, Fazlur, Avicenna’s Psychology. An English Translation of Kitab al-Najat, Book II, Chapter VI, with Historico-Philosophical Notes and Textual Improvements on the Cairo Edition, Oxford University Press, London 1952. Renard, John, Windows on the House of Islam, University of California Press, Berkeley 1998. Ibn Sı¯na¯, Abu¯ ʿAlı¯, Al-Naja¯t, Cairo 1938. Smith, Margaret, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on the Practice of the Presence of God”, in: The Muslim World, 23 (1933), pp. 16–23. Smith, Margaret, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the Mystic, Luzac, London 1944. Smith, Margaret, “The forerunner of al-Ghaza¯lı¯ (al-Muha¯sibı¯)”, in: Journal of the Royal ˙ Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland, 68 (1936), pp. 65–78. Watt, William Montgomery, “A Forgery in Ghaza¯lı¯’s Mishka¯t”, in: Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland, 81 (1949), pp. 5–22. Watt, William Montgomery, Muslim Intellectual, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh 1963. Watt, William Montgomery, “The Authenticity of Works Attributed to al-Ghaza¯lı¯”, in: Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 84 (1952), pp. 24–45. Watt, William Montgomery, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought, Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh 1973. Zaehner, Robert C., Hindu and Muslim Mysticism, Oneworld, Oxford 1994.

Tim Winter

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Anscombe’s Taha¯fut: Making Use of the Imam in a European Context

1.

Introduction: Islamic Theology and Islamic Studies

The philosopher Elizabeth Anscombe, who died ten years ago,1 is remembered mainly as Wittgenstein’s leading pupil and as one of his literary executors. By a paradox which still furrows the brows of many analytic philosophers, she remained a deeply committed Catholic, whose ethical writings included a passionate defence of positions which seemed proper to a strictly private believer’s language game, such as the prohibition of artificial contraception, and in general, support for the entirety of the papal magisterium. Sometimes regarded as a pietist Daniel in the lions’ den of modern empiricism, Anscombe was an indefatigable defender of orthodoxy, and opposed facile attempts to bring Catholic teaching into line with contemporary intellectual fashion, inside or outside the academy. One striking instance of this is offered by a paper she gave in Rome in 1986, under the title “Twenty Opinions Common among Modern Anglo-American Philosophers”.2 In spite of some suggestive parallels, it is impossible to discern whether she had Ghaza¯lı¯’s Taha¯fut anywhere in mind as she wrote this exercise: if so, she never troubled to mention the fact. The twenty propositions represent views that, as she says, are “inimical to Christianity which are very often found implicitly or explicitly among analytical philosophers. A serious Christian ought not, in my opinion, to hold any of them.”3 It is an amusing exercise to compare her syllabus of errors with that of our Imam, although to do so does not really comprise part of my purpose here. Much of her list is ethical in its purview, and thus lies generally outside Ghaza¯lı¯’s interests in his own Taha¯fut, which begins and is mainly taken up with meta1 5 January 2001. For Anscombe see Roger Teichmann, The Philosophy of Elizabeth Anscombe, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2008. 2 G.E.M. Anscombe, “Twenty Opinions Common among Modern Anglo-American Philosophers”, in: G.E.M. Anscombe (ed. Mary Geach/Luke Gormally), Faith in a Hard Ground: Essays on Religion, Philosophy and Ethics, Imprint Academic, Exeter 2008, pp. 66–68. 3 Ibid., p. 66.

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physical questions, and ends with some positions on the natural sciences. But it is interesting to note Anscombe’s focus on natural causality (15 to 17), dealt with by Ghaza¯lı¯ in his masʾala 17, her Thomist rejection, in article 18, of the view held by Avicenna and Ghaza¯lı¯ that God must create the best of all possible worlds (set forth primarily in the Ihya¯ʾ rather than the Taha¯fut),4 and their shared interest in ˙ the possibility of showing that the soul is imperishable and distinct from matter (Anscombe’s articles 1 and 2, and Ghaza¯lı¯’s 19th masʾala). But again, our purpose is not to embark upon such a comparison, anachronistic as it might be. Instead, let us consider this catalogue as suggestive of an ancient, essentially Ghaza¯lı¯an exercise’s potential applicability within a modern philosophically-naturalistic academy. At the end of her list she writes: In saying that these opinions are inimical to the Christian religion I am not implying that they can only be judged false on that ground. Each of them is a philosophical error and can be argued to be such on purely philosophical grounds.5

Again, the resemblance to the Taha¯fut is unmistakeable.6 And it is here that my rather elementary point may be found. If this volume is subtitled “Perspectives for an Islamic Theology in Germany”, then our focus on Ghaza¯lı¯ is more than a mere seizing upon the brute fact of an anniversary, but directs us to an intriguing methodological possibility. The teaching of Islam in German universities, now so commendably being promoted as an exercise which complements the longstanding official support for the teaching of Protestant and Catholic theology, is being framed as “Islamic theology”,7 perhaps as a distant echo of the ilahiyat introduced in Turkish universities in the early republican era, a discursive move which intended to shift the focus away from ˇsarı¯ʿa-oriented areas of the old medrese curriculum towards a type of philosophical theology which, drawing in sometimes imaginative ways on the assumed “rationalising” discourse of the Ma¯turı¯dı¯ and Hanafı¯ traditions, ˙ could fit within the modern, Humboltian world of the secular darülfünün, and a

4 Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, Mustafa¯ al-Halabı¯, Cairo 1347 AH, vol. 4, p. 223 (K. ˙ ¯ıd wa t-tawakkul,˙ baya¯nu haqı¯qati t-tauh ˙ ˙ ¯ıd); cf.˙ Eric L. Ormsby, Theodicy in Islamic at-Tauh ˙ The Dispute over al-Ghaza ˙ ¯ lı¯’s “Best of˙ All Possible Worlds”, Princeton University Thought: Press, Princeton 1984, p. 35. 5 Anscombe, “Twenty Opinions”, p. 68. 6 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa, trans. Michael E. Marmura, Brigham Young University Press, Provo 1997, pp. 7–8. 7 Albrecht Fuess, “Introducing Islamic Theology at German Universities, Aims and Priorities”, University of Copenhagen, 2011, URL: http://islam.ku.dk/lectures/Fuess.pdf (accessed February 28, 2012). For the wider context see Birgitte Schepelern Johansen, “Legitimizing Islamic Theology at European Universities”, in: Willem B. Drees/Pieter Sjoerd van Koningsveld (eds.), The Study of Religion and the Training of Muslim Clergy in Europe, Leiden University Press, Leiden 2008, pp. 445–468.

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41

society in which Sharı¯ʿa had no place.8 In Germany, the Bonapartist period had seen the destruction of what Goethe and Lessing had already condemned as the “guild-theology” (Zunfttheologie) of the universities: with Diderot they held that theology graduates were “the most useless, intractable and dangerous subjects of the state”, and hailed d’Holbach’s view that “the science of theology is a continued insult to human reason”.9 Immanuel Kant, in his Streit der Fakultäten (1798), had challenged theology’s claim to a legitimate place in the university, insisting that it defer to the superior methodology of the historically inferior philosophy faculties.10 The post-Bonapartist institutions, taking their cue in various ways from Kant, the University of Berlin and post-revolutionary Prussia, and which were to exercise so foundational an influence on British and American universities as well, in some ways anticipated this, as it were, ilahiyat type of approach. Theology was to be philosophically rigorous, eschewing dogma in any form. Otherwise it could not claim to be a university discipline. Such an insistence on rigour and on academic freedom will also bear on the relationship between theologians and power. From a Ghaza¯lı¯an perspective, a theological-academic establishment patronised in any way by government must strive to ensure its independence, and this applies particularly in the case of the later Ghaza¯lı¯, following his vow in Hebron, in which he swore never to accept an official post or salary.11 Although later followers of Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Islamic world did not always emulate this scrupulousness – imagine Kemalpas¸aza¯deh, the Ottoman mufti who recommended Ghaza¯lı¯ as the final arbiter of proper or improper Sufism,12 also advising his colleagues to avoid accepting official posts! – still, Ghaza¯lı¯’s invective against state-sponsored guild religion retains its sting in the eyes of many contemporary Muslims. Modern scholar-theologians integrated into an academic process shaped by statesmen in order to build an Islam more suited to their understanding of social cohesion might not always receive an unambiguous welcome in mosque communities.13 Certainly in the United Kingdom, officialdom has shied away from intervening in what is called “imam training”. In Britain, that process takes place in around thirty private institutions 8 Bernard Lewis, The Emergence of Modern Turkey, Oxford University Press, Oxford 1961, pp. 417–418; Halis Ayhan, Türkiye’de Din Eg˘itimi 1920–1998, Marmara Üniversitesi I˙lahiyat Vakfı, Istanbul 1999. 9 Cited in Thomas Albert Howard, Protestant Theology and the Making of the Modern German University, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2006, p. 2. 10 Ibid., p. 3. 11 Frank Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2009, p. 24. 12 [Ahmad] Kemalpas¸azadeh, Risa¯la al-munı¯ra, Sahha¯f Ahmad Efendi, Istanbul 1296 AH, p. 20. ˙ Dutch context see Mohammed M. ˙ ˙ ˙ in the 13 For˙ Muslim suspicion of governmental intentions Ghaly, “The Academic Training of Imams: Recent Discussions and Initiatives in the Netherlands”, pp. 369–403, in: Drees/Koningsveld, Study of Religion, p. 376.

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subject to government inspection and accreditation, but which are not, in the main, officially subsidised or integrated into an official or quasi-official establishment funded by tax pounds.14 We may suppose that the Imam would have approved. But again, anachronistic speculations should not distract us from our purpose here, which is to consider the openness of an academic establishment, of the rigorous, even positivistic Humboltian kind, to an Islamic discourse which is in some way accountable to a pious community. “Islamology” in European universities has frequently seen or experienced insider perspectives as problematic,15 even though the same universities have often tolerated faculties of Christian theology which cater explicitly for the confessing Christian faithful. The new German initiative is evidently rooted in a sense that this imbalance must be corrected and that an insider perspective in Islamic Studies need not impose a damaging methodological bias. It is for the new post-holders to demonstrate that this is the case. But the initiative, one may hope, may also help redress the concern expressed by some philosophers of religion that the philological and historiographic methods of “Islamology” are not always well-equipped to entertain the philosophical content of medieval Muslim thought, even though Catholic and other academic philosophers have long investigated their own medieval antecedents for insights of abiding interest.16 Certainly in the case of Anscombe, her appointment to a chair in Cambridge suggests that profoundly conservative outlooks rooted in medieval thought, rigorously defended in what we might call an approximately Taha¯fut-like spirit, can find an entirely valid academic niche. Her views would probably disqualify her nowadays from serving as a European Commissioner,17 but Islamology should be encouraged by the fact that the academic world, even that of Anglo-Saxon analytic philosophy, could make an authentic space for her. Official policy need not serve social cohesion and equality alone; it can help to redress imbalances internal to the university’s methodologies and curricula. 14 J. Flint, “Faith Schools, Multiculturalism and Community Cohesion”, in: Policy and Politics, 35 (2007), pp. 251–268; Department of Communities and Local Government, The Training and Development of Muslim Faith Leaders: Current Practice and Future Possibilities, Department of Communities and Local Government, London 2010; cf. Myriam Cherti/Laura Bradley, Inside Madrassas: Understanding and Engaging with British-Muslim Faith Supplementary Schools, Institute for Public Policy Research, London 2011. 15 Johansen, “Legitimizing Islamic Theology”, p. 449. 16 For the reluctance of “Orientalism” to consider falsafa philosophically see Nader El-Bizri, “The Labyrinth of Philosophy in Islam”, in: Comparative Philosophy, 1 (2010), pp. 3–23. 17 The political philosopher Rocco Buttigione was disqualified as a European Commissioner in 2004 for subscribing to the Catholic view on homosexual relations; for an accessible account see Simon Hix, What’s Wrong with the European Union and How to Fix It, Polity Press, Cambridge 2008, pp. 38–39.

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2.

43

A Case Study: Ghaza¯lı¯ on Intention

In support of this, and leaving until our conclusion some further speculations about the role of paradigms open to theology in the late modern academy, it would seem worthwhile to offer some reflections on one particular area of Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought which might make a theology faculty, rather than an Oriental Studies faculty as traditionally conceived, an appropriate place to study him. This is his understanding of intention, understood here as the purpose guiding a volitional act.18 Like Anscombe, he saw this as central to religion in multiple ways, giving weight to ethics and to conceptions of human agency and hence of the soul. Anscombe’s major work is her early book Intention,19 a good instance of a religiously-driven philosophical initiative which made headway in the positivistic academy (Donald Davidson, in most respects entirely hostile to theology, would call it the most important work on the subject since Aristotle20). Her work on the theory of double-effect, for instance, remains of serious philosophical interest, despite its rootedness in a tradition stretching back at least as far as Aquinas.21 Although an action theory is present in the Taha¯fut,22 Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory of intention is primarily to be gleaned from the Kita¯b an-Niyya wa l-Ikhla¯s wa ˙ s-Sidq, which comprises Book 37 of the Ihya¯ʾ. This was one of the earliest sections ˙˙ ˙ of the Ihya¯ʾ to be translated into a European language: the pioneer being Hans ˙ Bauer, who published it in Halle in 1916.23 (Bauer’s publication in fact included ¯ da¯b an-Nika¯h, al-Hala¯l wa l-Hara¯m, and the atfour books: the others being the A ˙ ˙ ˙ Tauh¯ıd wa t-Tawakkul, his evident hope being that these rather disparate tracts ˙ would together cohere as a reader in Ghaza¯lı¯an ethics.) The Kita¯b an-Niyya has been studied in more recent times by Paul R. Powers.24 He offers a spirited attack on what he sees as a well-meaning Orientalist trope 18 That is, niyya, or maqsad/qasd, to be distinguished from the “intention” that, following the ˙ ¯ , signifying an object of estimation; for which see Deborah Latins, translates Ibn Sı˙¯na¯’s maʿna L. Black, “Intentionality in Medieval Arabic Philosophy”, in: Quaestio, 10 (2010), pp. 65–81; for the different usages of the term in later medieval philosophy, see John Marenbon, Later Medieval Philosophy (1150–1350): An Introduction, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London 1987, p. 140. 19 G.E.M. Anscombe, Intention, Basil Blackwell, Oxford 1957. 20 Comment on cover of the paperback Harvard edition, cited in Mary Geach, “Introduction to Anscombe”, in: Anscombe, Faith, p. xviii. 21 For Anscombe on double-effect reasoning, see Teichmann, The Philosophy of Elizabeth Anscombe, pp. 117–118. 22 Kwame Gyekye, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Action”, in: Ghazâlî: la raison et le miracle, Maisonneuve & Larose, Paris 1987, pp. 83–91. 23 Hans Bauer, Islamische Ethik. Nach den Originalquellen übersetzt und erläutert. Heft 1. Über Intention, reine Absicht und Wahrhaftigkeit, M. Niemeyer, Halle a. d. S. 1916. 24 Paul R. Powers, “Interiors, Intentions and the ‘Spirituality’ of Islamic Ritual Practice”, in: Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 72 (2004), pp. 425–459, see p. 454; a version of

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which tries to save Islam from charges of legalism by granting intention the role of a master-spiritualiser of all Sharı¯ʿa practices. Since the time of Goldziher, Powers records, Orientalists have tended to identify the obligation to establish a niyya in the heart which is required by the manuals of fiqh with a Ghaza¯lı¯an agenda of transforming every Sharı¯ʿa practice into a spiritual method for overcoming the ego (nafs), by means of an active and conscientious niyya. Powers shows, quite persuasively, that the niyya established as a practice (ʿamal) by the jurists exists primarily to allow a given ritual act to be specified and distinguished from other ritual or non-ritual acts. Hence, to declare formally, “I intend to perform the noon prayer” serves to make it clear that I am not about to perform the evening prayer, or an act of fasting. It is not a “spiritual technique” at all; the jurists simply treat it as an ʿamal, as part of the sequence of due ritual performance. Powers interprets Goldziher’s reading as part of a romantic Orientalist internalisation of a high-medieval Sunni view of Islamic history which identified spiritual excellence with the Prophetic age, followed by an entropic descent into legalism at the hands of the jurists, from which Islam was finally rescued by Ghaza¯lı¯. Certainly this view dominates the Encyclopaedia of Islam article on niyya composed by A.J. Wensinck,25 who follows Goldziher in seeking to, as Powers puts it, “save Islam from itself”. However for Powers, Ghaza¯lı¯’s Sufi understanding of niyya does not significantly overlap with that of the jurists: for him it is about a humble and sincere presence of the heart, hudu¯r al-qalb, a ˙ ˙ moralising and interior preoccupation which is simply absent from the treatment of niyya in the books of fiqh. Powers’ proposal that there exist two major registers of niyya in Islamic thought, the fiqhı¯ and the Sufi, is evidently backed up by the standard manuals of each discipline. However, we should beware of subscribing to a widespread premise about the structure of knowledge in medieval Islam. Law and ethics were different disciplines, and we need not assume that the authors of the fiqh manuals understood themselves to be composing fully-integrated textbooks of right religion. That would be to mistake the genre: jurists who wrote of niyya that it served to identify a ritual act were presumably entirely aware of the very distinct discourse on niyya not only of Sufism, but of piety and akhla¯q more generally, which insisted on intention as an act which integrated faith with action. Their fiqh manuals were not composed as alternative but as potentially complementary works. Ghaza¯lı¯’s juristic texts were written relatively early in his career; however, this appears in the same author’s Intent in Islamic Law: Motive and Meaning in Medieval Sunnı¯ Fiqh, E.J. Brill, Leiden 2006, pp. 61–96. Before Powers, Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory of intention was also briefly but helpfully mapped by Muhammad Abul Quasem, The Ethics of al-Ghazali: A Composite Ethics in Islam, Quasem, Petaling Jaya c1975, pp. 170–173. 25 Encyclopaedia of Islam, ed. C.E. Bosworth et al., Second Edition, E.J. Brill, Leiden 1986-, vol. 8, pp. 66–67.

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we have no reason to suppose that even the young Ghaza¯lı¯, in writing in standard Sha¯fiʿite terms about the legal obligation to compose a specific intention in the heart, did not simultaneously believe that this was not the whole story. In the fiqh-oriented sections of the Ihya¯ʾ, the niyya of fiqh appears, as in his insistence ˙ that one make the intention to distinguish the obligatory fast of Ramada¯n from a ˙ 26 supererogatory fast. In these earlier segments of the Ihya¯ʾ, niyya is often not a ˙ “spiritual” practice at all. But the niyya of fiqh coexisted perfectly well with the pietist discourse on niyya, dominant in the later sections of the Ihya¯ʾ, which ˙ continued a tradition rooted in the most evident sense of the canonical hadı¯th ˙ innama¯ l-aʿma¯lu bi n-niyya¯t, “actions take the value of their intentions.”27 This bifurcated notion of niyya was not uniquely Islamic. It stood approximately in line with Roman Catholic views, which held that a formal or even formulaic intention constituted part of the legitimate administering of a sacrament, but that an inner direction of the heart was also called for. Here, for example, is a canon of the Council of Trent: If anyone says that in ministers, when they effect and confer the sacraments, there is not required at least the intention of doing what the Church does, let him be anathema.28

In the literature of canon law, as in the case of fiqh, intention was considered a willed act, which, forming part of the sequence of praxis, was a condition for the validity of certain core actions. As with Islam, however, it was acknowledged that canonical intention was not the whole story. The formal discussion of the priest’s intention as a component of the Mass, which insisted that the ritual was ineffectual if the priest failed to harbour at least a virtual intention to administer a specific sacrament, existed in tandem with an abundance of other pious literature which presented the intention not only as a formal volitional act of solidarity with the practice of the Church, but as a quite distinct area of human interiority and ethics.29 Intention, as a “spiritual” exercise, was, to take only one example, central 26 Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 1, p. 209 (K. Asra¯r as-saum, fasl 1, al-wa¯jiba¯tu z-za¯hira). ˙ ˙ islamique: Le com˙ ˙ 27 For this h˙adı¯th, see Louis Pouzet, Une˙ herméneutique de la tradition mentaire ˙des Arbaʿu¯n al-Nawawı¯ya de Muhyı¯ al-Dı¯n Yahya al-Nawawı¯ (m. 676/1277), Dar El˙ ˙ Machreq, Beirut 1982, pp. 74–89. 28 Henry J. Schroeder (trans.), Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, TAN Books, Rochford 21978, p. 52. 29 The differentiation between a public or presumed intention, and the reality of an “interior” intention, is presumed in the magisterial teaching that a sacrament is judged valid by the Church if only the affirmation of the presence of an intention is valid, but “concerning the mind or intention, inasmuch as it is primarily something interior, the Church does not pass judgement” (Pope Leo XIII, cited in Francis Clark, Anglican Orders and Defect of Intention, Longmans, Green and Co., London/New York/Toronto 1956, p. 7). This represents the Tridentine teaching that the effectiveness (as opposed to the legitimacy) of a sacrament in producing grace in the soul pertains ex opere operato, irrespective of interior intention and sincerity.

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to Ignatian discipline, which required Catholics to force themselves to adopt a godly intention, rooted in deliberate habits of “praise”, “reverence,” “honour” and “service”.30 When Loyola directs that “all should strive to keep their intentions right”,31 he does not have the ritualised intentio of the missal in mind. The same distinction may readily be detected in rabbinical Judaism: the formal intention, kavanah, which (as Wensinck notes in his article) corresponds closely in form and function to that of the fiqh, is distinguished from the principle of intention as an inward discipline. Thus kavanot formed an integral part of the mitzvot, the religious duties; without them they were usually deemed invalid. Some prayer-books specified particular kavanot to be used before specific prayers. But kavanah was also, beyond the world of halakhah, a principle considerably elaborated as an aspect of interiority, in the Kabbalistic tradition in particular.32 An Orthodox halakhist summarises this in terms that fit Wensinck’s conception well: By ‘spirituality’ I mean the intention we bring to our religious acts, the focusing on the mind and thoughts on the transcendent, the entire range of mindfulness – whether simple awareness of what we are doing, in contrast to rote performance, or elaborate mystical meditations – that spells a groping for the Source of all existence and the Giver of Torah.33

Hence, we may say that Islamic, Catholic and rabbinical understandings of intention as existing in two quite distinct senses appear to be broadly congruous, a claim which no doubt would bear further and more detailed examination in another place. As in the Catholic and Jewish worlds, a complex genealogy lay behind Ghaza¯lı¯’s discussion of intention. He is inheriting and, at least in the context of his fiqh, not significantly elaborating, older Sha¯fiʿı¯ preoccupations with niyya as a condition of works (this, conspicuous already in Sha¯fiʿı¯, contrasts in some branches of fiqh with a somewhat lesser Hanafı¯ emphasis34); his most evident ˙ immediate precursor in Sufism is here al-Muha¯sibı¯, for whom intention had been ˙ 30 Michael Ivens (ed. Joseph A. Munitiz), Keeping in Touch: Posthumous Papers on Ignatian Topics, Gracewing, Leominster 2007, p. 141. 31 Loyola, Constitutions, cited in Ivens, loc. cit. 32 Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah, Quadrangle, New York 1974, pp. 176–180. 33 Cited in Heshey Zelcer, “The Mystical Spirituality of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik”, in: Hakirah, 11 (2011), pp. 135–148, see p. 136; for the inner kavanah see also R. Norman Lamm, The Shema: Spirituality and Law in Judaism, Jewish Publications Society, Philadelphia 1998, pp. 70–72. 34 Muhammad b. Idrı¯s asˇ-Sha¯fiʿı¯ (ed. Rifʿat Fawzı¯ ʿAbd al-Muttalib), Kita¯b al-Umm, Da¯r al˙¯ ʾ, al-Mansu¯ra 1422/2001, vol. 6, pp. 465–467; by contrast, ˙˙ for Hanafı¯s, niyya is not a Wafa ˙ ¯, Bada¯ʾiʿ as-sana¯ʾiʿ fı¯ ˙ condition for the validity of a divorce: ʿAla¯ʾ ad-Dı¯n Abu¯ Bakr al-Ka¯sa¯nı ˙ ˙ 1421/ tartı¯b asˇ-sˇara¯ʾiʿ, Da¯r Ihya¯ʾ at-Tura¯th al-ʿArabı¯/Muʾassasat at-Ta¯rı¯h al-ʿArabı¯, Beirut ˙ ˘ 2000, vol. 3, p. 161.

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effectively coterminous with “spirituality”;35 with this somewhat diffuse and nonnative term probably being less helpful to students of Islam than the category of intentionality. Let us recall Muha¯sibı¯’s kala¯m affiliations here. Massignon, in an ˙ important section in his Essai sur les origines, entitled “Concordance of Mysticism’s Basic Problems with Those of Dogmatic Theology”, discusses Muha¯sibı¯ as ˙ a theologically and dogmatically-minded pietist.36 In this case, niyya as presented in Ghaza¯lı¯’s Sufism, which derives in this respect in particular from the work of Muha¯sibı¯, may emerge ultimately from early Sunni polemics over irja¯ʾ: it is the ˙ intention of acts which yields eschatological consequences, which are not infallibly indicated by their outward form. The civil wars of early Islam may be handed over to God to assess, since only He knows what their protagonists intended. Just as a political doctrine became theological (Van Ess),37 so it ultimately became a principle of “spirituality”. At this point it may be helpful to venture the suggestion that here, quite possibly, we have one explanation of the fact which has puzzled some observers, not least Corbin, of Sufism’s historic efflorescence in a Sunni context, despite the apparently intrinsic mysticality of Shı¯ʿı¯ doctrines of the imam, and various subWeberian characterisations of Shı¯ʿism as immanentist, and hence more hospitable to mysticism.38 Kha¯rijites and Shı¯ʿa judged ʿAlı¯, Muʿa¯wiya and the other combatants by their actions; proto-Sunnism had drawn a fastidious veil over misdemeanours, or sought to deny them, handing the judgement over to God. Whether or not it cast itself in the language of irja¯ʾ, emergent Sunnism’s selfdefinition thus incorporated the central value of niyya; hence, for instance, Article 15 in the so-called Fiqh Akbar I, which holds that ostentation invalidates works, precisely the creedal formula which Wensinck, citing Matthew’s gospel, uses to establish early Islam’s greater “spirituality”.39

35 See his emphatically non-fiqhı¯ interpretation of the hadı¯th “Actions are by intentions”: al˙¯ h, Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1984, p. 49 Ha¯rith b. Asad al-Muha¯sibı¯, Al-Riʿa¯ya li-huqu¯q Alla ˙ ˙ ˙ (Ba¯bun fi muha¯sabati n-nafsi fı¯ mustaqbali l-aʿma¯l). ˙ 36 Louis Massignon, trans. Benjamin Clark, Essay on the Origins of the Technical Language of Islamic Mysticism, University of Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame 1997, pp. 77–79; see also p. 168. 37 Josef van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra. Eine Geschichte des religiösen Denken im frühen Islam, de Gruyter, Berlin 1991–6, vol. 1, pp. 183–184. There is little or no evidence for a formal connection between Muha¯sibı¯ and irja¯ʾ; but the latter ˙ principle was indicative of a wider impulse characteristic of early Sunnism which tended to stress interiority and intention as determinants of the value of works. 38 Henry Corbin, trans. Nancy Pearson, The Man of Light in Iranian Sufism, Shambhala, Boulder 1978, pp. 122, 133–136; cf. Ernest Gellner, Muslim Society, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1981, pp. 42–43. 39 Arent J. Wensinck, The Muslim Creed: Its Genesis and Historical Development, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1932, p. 222.

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The other theological background is the trope of the imitatio Dei, which, identified as the operative principle in the saying takhallaqu¯ bi akhla¯qi Lla¯h, furnished a link between metaphysics and moral transformation in Ghaza¯lı¯’s Maqsad. Here we would expect to see an expression of his objection to Ibn Sı¯na¯’s ˙ idea of a God without intention. For Ibn Sı¯na¯, God’s will is radically dissimilar to that of human agents, being simple, unchanging and pre-existent. Ibn Sı¯na¯’s deity produces the world necessarily, and hence cannot be said to have an intention.40 This is the kind of impersonalist talk about divinity that Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Taha¯fut regards as credally subversive; and in the Maqsad, dealing with the ˙ name al-Wadu¯d, he explicitly states that God does have an intention: […] the meaning of His mercy […] consists in His intending the well-being of the one who receives mercy […] so does His loving-kindness [mawadda] consist in His intending honour and blessing […] while He transcends the natural inclination usually associated with love and mercy.41

So this non-Avicennan God does have intentions, albeit not rooted in emotion; and in his tanbı¯h Ghaza¯lı¯ tells us that we should imitate God by having benign and disinterested intentions towards His creatures.42 As so often in Ghaza¯lı¯’s highly-segmented oeuvre, the theological virtue of the imitatio, so central to the Maqsad’s understanding of the via purgativa, is not ˙ picked up very substantially in the Ihya¯ʾ, or elsewhere in the established Gha˙ za¯lı¯an corpus. In the Ihya¯ʾ one might expect niyya as a form of theosis to form a ˙ conspicuous part of his project of interiorisation, but generally the whole project of al-takhalluqu bi-akhla¯qi Lla¯h is marginal in the Ihya¯ʾ.43 ˙ Ghaza¯lı¯’s treatment of intention in the Ihya¯ʾ proposes several levels: ˙ Fa l-ʿamalu bi-ghayri niyyatin ʿana¯ʾ, wa n-niyyatu bi-ghayri ikhla¯sin riya¯ʾ, wa-huwa li ˙ n-nifa¯qi kafa¯ʾ, wa maʿa l-ʿisya¯ni sawa¯ʾ wa l-ikhla¯su min ghayri sidqin wa-tahqı¯qin ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ 44 haba¯ʾ.

40 For a discussion, see Rahim Açar, Talking about God and Talking about Creation: Avicenna’s and Thomas Aquinas’ Positions, E.J. Brill, Leiden 2005, pp. 146–149; cf. Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, pp. 280–281. 41 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Maqsad, trans. David B. Burrell/Nazih Daher, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names ˙ al-asna¯ fi sharh asma¯’ Alla¯h al-husna¯, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge of God: al-Maqsad ˙ ˙ ˙ 1992, p. 119. 42 Ibid., p. 121. 43 The most significant exception is Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 4, p. 263 (K. al-Mahabbati wa ˇs-sˇauqi wa l-unsi wa ˙¯ hu wahdahu); trans. Eric L. ˙ li l–mahabbati huwa Lla r-rida¯, baya¯nu anna l–mustahiqqa ˙ ˙ and Contentment, Kita ˙ ¯ b al-Mahabba wa’l˙ Ormsby, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯: Love, Longing, Intimacy ˙ shawq wa’l-uns wa’l-rida¯. Book XXXVI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Islamic Texts ˙ p. 38. Society, Cambridge 2011, 44 Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 4, p. 309 (K. an-Niyyati wa l–ihla¯si wa s-sidq, Prologue). ˙ ˙ ˙ ˘ ˙

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An act devoid of intention is [ just] an effort. An intention without sincerity is ostentation and is equivalent to hypocrisy and disobedience. Sincerity without truthfulness and true ascertaining is like dust.

Thus he proposes a scale of ascent: First, there is action. Second, niyya. Three, ikhla¯s. Four, sidq. ˙ ˙ In this scheme, niyya comes noticeably low in the hierarchy, referring to intention largely in the formal, not the “spiritual” sense, since sincerity has not yet been mentioned. Niyya, he says, should be our constant ʿamal: it is an action. It is synonymous with ira¯da and qasd. It is “a state and quality of the heart ˙ comprising two things: knowledge and action”.45 In fact, there is no religious ʿamal but that niyya forms part of it, since ʿamal is kullu harakatin wa suku¯nin ˙ ikhtiya¯rı¯, every volitional movement or cessation: volition, ira¯da, is here identical to niyya. Ghaza¯lı¯ appears to consider the terms equivalent. Niyya, therefore, does not quite translate as “intention”; and it may be that many of our misunderstandings can be attributed to a rush to equate the two. The Latin intendere bears the primary significance of “to stretch” or “aim”. For the Islamic lexicon, niyya tends to occupy a subtly different semantic range, which is somewhat closer to the idea of a formal expression of what one means to do. Hence, the apparent paradox of the different usage of the term in legal and Sufi writings. If niyya is translated not as “intention”, but as “legal intent” in the fiqh manuals, and as “purpose” in the context of Sufism, the matter becomes clearer.46 This is why Ghaza¯lı¯ places niyya together with ikhla¯s and sidq, in a book which ˙ ˙ might bear the overall English title The Book of Intention. Niyya on its own is not all of what is conventionally called intentionality. In fact, it is not properly volitional at all: in this Sufi context an-niyyatu ghayru da¯khilatin tahta l–ikh˙ tiya¯r: “intention is not subject to choice”; Ghaza¯lı¯ includes an entire section (baya¯n) with this title.47 To form a niyya made of words, and to claim that it represents one’s intention, is absurd, as in the case of the man who says: “I intend to love and marry such-and-such a woman for the sake of following the Sunna”, when in fact his love for her is motivated simply by desire. Such a person does have a niyya, but it is different to his stated intent and is not under his control.48 Ghaza¯lı¯’s point is that niyya in this “spiritual” sense is not subject to the conscious mind, but is no more than a response to impulse (an-niyyatu hiya ija¯batu l-ba¯ʿith).49 Hence, this “spiritual” niyya cannot be changed by the will, but only 45 Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 4, p. 312 (K. an-Niyya, baya¯nu haqı¯qati n-niyya). ˙ ˙ clearer would be the use of the term “conation”, 46 Even as one of the three traditional functions of the mind, along with cognition and affect. 47 Ihya¯’, vol. 4, pp. 319–321 (K. an-Niyya, baya¯nu anna n-niyyata ghayru da¯hilatin tahta ˙ ˙ tiya¯r). ˘ l-ih ˘ pp. 319–320. 48 Ibid., 49 Ibid., p. 319.

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by altering the affective states which give rise to it.50 Merely changing one’s verbal purpose (the niyya of fiqh) does not affect one’s true purpose, which in this case can only be corrected by a growth in faith, and a desire to increase the number of the Prophet’s community, and by refuting arguments against having children. This is not legal intent, the niyya of the fuqaha¯ʾ, which was treated as a mentally-articulated component of a righteous action. It is itself an impulse, compounded of whatever other impulses the heart is subject to. Religion consists in strengthening the “religious impulse” (ba¯ʿith ad-dı¯n), which is done with God’s guidance (rushd) and direction (tasdı¯d), which themselves are divine gifts.51 Niyya, hence, is a function of faith, itself a gift subject to God’s inscrutable power, and may come and go unpredictably and uncontrollably; unlike the niyya of the jurists. A stronger faith will not only make a stronger and more regular niyya more likely, but will engender an intention to obtain higher eschatological gains, such as the vision of God, rather than sexual gratification in Paradise.52 Having surprised us with this, Ghaza¯lı¯ then goes on to define ikhla¯s. He begins ˙ by noting its semantic roots in ideas of purity or singularity (khulu¯s). Our pur˙ poses are typically composite, but niyya is mukhlisa (“sincere”) to the extent that ˙ it instantiates a single desire or affect. Hence, someone who gives charity solely to be thought of well is mukhlis: He is sincerely ostentatious. It is the absence of ˙ multiple, potentially clashing impulses in ikhla¯s that gives an action its moral ˙ significance: Ghaza¯lı¯ veers quite close to Peter Abelard’s position in implying that a good action performed with a bad intention will bring God’s punishment.53 His final term, sidq, is performative: it denotes not only a purity of intention for God, ˙ but the consistent fruitfulness of one’s religious works. Such a person is siddı¯q, ˙ who, like Joseph (cf. Qurʾa¯n 12:46), was consistent in his good intentions, despite the envy of his brothers and the blandishments of his employer’s wife.

3.

Niyya and Modern Academic Theology

Here I can do no more than briefly indicate a few ways in which this medieval type of action theory continues to hold interest. Most evidently, the distinction between the fiqhı¯ and the Sufi niyya, and the way in which Ghaza¯lı¯ uses both, seem 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid., p. 94 (K. as-Sabri wa sˇ-sˇukr, baya¯nu haqı¯qati n-niʿmati wa aqsa¯miha¯); trans. Henry T. ˙ ˙ ˙ ¯ lı¯ on Patience and Thankfulness: Littlejohn, Al-Ghaza Kita¯b al-sabr wa’l-shukr. Book XXXII of ˙ the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2011, p. 143. 52 Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 4, p. 320 (K. an-Niyya, baya¯nu anna n-niyyata ghayru da¯hilatin tahta al-ihtiya¯r). ˙assessment ˙ ˘ ˘ 53 Ibid., p. 320; Abelard insisted on intention so vehemently that the objective of actions themselves seems to vanish (Francis Copleston, History of Medieval Philosophy, Methuen, London 1972, p. 84).

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relevant to a distinction Anscombe makes between intention and prediction. In both cases a belief about a future event is implied; but in the case of prediction, evidence is required. The mukallaf on the point of prayer is, by his or her niyya, predicting the act, and this is distinct from intention in the Sufi sense, which is closer to Anscombe’s sense of intention.54 To intend rightly, for Ghaza¯lı¯, is to be sa¯diq, that is, there must be the anticipation of a morally praiseworthy outcome; ˙ but it is not predicted, and the action is complete in itself, and subject to divine approval, even if it does not in fact occur. For fiqh, niyya is teleological; for Sufism, it is ontological. Ghaza¯lı¯’s tripartite categorisation of conscious agency also seems to converge with Anscombe’s identification of the reasons for an intention with desires. For both, there is a further difference to be identified between prediction and intention. With the former, causes are invoked, while the latter involves reasons. To the extent that reasons are present, entailing the disciplining of desires and the reduction of their number, humans may be credited with moral agency. Here both thinkers insist on a thin but true degree of human autonomy, represented in this case by the distinction between causes and reasons. For Ghaza¯lı¯, although one may speak of God willing one’s intentions,55 this comes close to the differentiation between involuntary and willed actions, and hence to the discussions surrounding the doctrine of kasb: human volitional acquisition. What unites them is their rejection, evidenced in their two Taha¯futs, of an impersonal model of cosmic causality. Action theory, since the time of the Nicomachean Ethics, mostly assumed the reality of human volition, an assumption which underpinned the Enlightenment; but in recent times the rise of neuroscience and naturalistic explanations of cognition has tended to undermine this, reviving the position of Spinoza, whose materialism had led him to consider human agency and intention as just another aspect of the physical world, with the implication that human free will was simply an illusion. Donald Wegner is a contemporary philosopher who concurs.56 Ghaza¯lı¯ also, in his more esoteric teachings, is notably sceptical about free will,57 and his essentially passive understanding of niyya seems congruous with this. Intention, even of the Sufi kind, is in fact determined by the affects, and these form part of a world which is 54 Anscombe, Intention, p. 6. 55 Ihya¯ʾ, vol. 4, pp. 84–85 (K. as-Sabri wa ˇs-sˇukr, baya¯nu tamyı¯zi ma¯ yuhibbuhu Lla¯h); trans. ˙ “Your motivation, ˙ ˙ ˙turns your motive to the hateful deed” and Littlejohn, p. 115: “it is He who your ability, your knowledge, your actions, and all that causes your movements are all His act, which conform to justice and from which harmonious acts issue”. 56 Donald Wegner, The Illusion of Conscious Will, MIT Press, Cambridge (MA)/London 2002; for his rejection of the idea of intention as a locus of causal agency, see pp. 18–20. 57 Ormsby, Theodicy, pp. 69–74; Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, pp. 190–194, p. 233.

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subject to God’s forensic manipulation of every apparent agent. There is certainly something contemporary about his determination to deconstruct the Sufi niyya, apparently the site of the greatest human volition and accountability, as the inert outcome of interactive prior affects. However, his Sufi ascetical programme of rectifying these affects committed him, in his outward and more public teachings, to a belief in the reality of human will, however circumscribed by his particular reception of the Ashʿarite language of human “acquisition”. As with today’s secular compatibilist ethics, human intention for the “outward” Ghaza¯lı¯ is just about ours in a morally obligating way, but is still primarily the outcome of external factors over which we have no control.58 We are mainly objects, not subjects; but the distinction still has meaning. In her Taha¯fut, Anscombe condemns the proposition that “Either there is no such thing as freedom of the human will, or it is compatible with determinism.”59 She had elsewhere invoked the indeterminism of quantum mechanics as a liberation from the unconvincing Kantian compatibilism which allowed the conjunction of physical determinism with ethical freedom.60 Causality does not predetermine all outcomes, and this validates her Catholic commitment to voluntarism. For the “inner” Ghaza¯lı¯, by contrast, it seems that human beings are not agents. Our intentions are God’s. Yet like theists in the modern academy, he is repelled by jabr, complete determinism. His determinism is “soft”, but whereas Anscombe had found quantum indeterminacy to be the cosmological model which allowed the propounding of an uncoerced human agency, Ghaza¯lı¯ works with a medieval atomist model in which causality could easily become compulsion, although in reality it turns out simply to be a series of conventional divine acts. God is free to determine whether an effect is conditional upon any given cause; hence, a miracle is ontologically no different from a customary effect.61 A human intention, then, is part of the world, but does not have to be determined by it; and in this a pure jabr, or a “hard” determinism, is averted. There may be something typically Ashʿarite about this acquiescence in an antinomy: Ghaza¯lı¯’s insistence that causes have a certain reality and are the mediative instrument through which God directs creation62 seeks to coexist with a 58 Cf. Erik J. Wielenberg, Value and Virtue in a Godless Universe, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2005, pp. 110–112. 59 Anscombe, “Twenty Opinions”, p. 68. 60 G.E.M. Anscombe, “Causality and Determination”, in: G.E.M. Anscombe, The Collected Philosophical Papers of G.E.M. Anscombe, vol. 2, Basil Blackwell, Oxford 1981, pp. 133–147. 61 Hans Daiber, The Struggle for Knowledge in Islam: Some Historical Aspects, Kult, Sarajevo 2004, p. 85. 62 See Griffel’s helpful theory that the “throne” in the late Ghaza¯lı¯ denotes secondary causes (Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, pp. 273–274).

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thoroughgoing occasionalism. Intentions which appear in our minds are, from a certain perspective, our own; from another, they are God’s. The latter perspective is closer to the truth according to his “inner” teaching, so the most that can be said is that if through divine grace we unify our affects so that God alone is the purpose of our acts, that we can then be held responsible for our acquisition of them. This simultaneous hard and soft determinism recalls the way in which Ashʿarites had proposed a solution to a different but no less perplexing antinomy: the essential divine qualities are not identical with, but neither are they distinct from God’s nature.63 With both Anscombe and Ghaza¯lı¯ there is a sense that the problem of the autonomy of human intentions is not open to decisive resolution. The extent to which macro-structures, including the functions of the brain, are meaningfully subject to the quantum variables which shape the micro-world, is difficult to resolve; and for Ghaza¯lı¯, kasb as our own ambiguous right to identify with acts in a divinely-ordained universe cannot really resolve the tension between occasionalism and atomic naturalism.64 It is interesting that some contemporary Muslim thinkers propose analogies between Ashʿarı¯ views of physics and the uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics, in an exercise which demonstrates the on-going philosophical interest of medieval Muslim cosmology.65 Whether or not he held that human intentions were the playthings of the divine command, passive concatenations of affects generated directly by God, Ghaza¯lı¯ made subtle use of philosophical tools which had been internalised into Islamic dialectics, despite their alien origin. In this way he shows a way forward for theists as they continue to struggle against naturalistic reductionism. Despite the best efforts of the compatibilists, naturalism continues, as it did in Anscombe’s time, to tend to a strict and inhuman determinism,66 and this tends to 63 Sometimes it is helpful to think in terms of two Ghaza¯lı¯s: “Ghaza¯lı¯ A”, who is cataphatic, moralistic and passional; and “Ghaza¯lı¯ B”, who is apophatic, deterministic and passive. The second Ghaza¯lı¯ may, or may not, be the “real Ghaza¯lı¯”, propounder of a “hidden teaching”. Acknowledging this ambiguity may help avoid over-defined conclusions about Ghaza¯lı¯’s position, as exampled in M. Amin Abdullah, Kant and Ghazali: The Idea of Universality of Ethical Norms, Y. Landeck, Frankfurt 2000, p. 177, where the inner Ghaza¯lı¯ is cited as denying the reality of purposive acts, the presumption being that the outer Ghaza¯lı¯ is simply maintaining a façade. Such a bilocation in apparently different theologies is not unique in Islamic thought; something similar is evident in Ibn ʿArabı¯, for example. Its origin may be sought in the Qurʾa¯n’s two registers of God-talk: tasˇbı¯h and tanzı¯h, a dialectic so strong as to give rise to several discursive bifurcations, including, in some ways, the remarkable mutual independence of kala¯m and Sufism. 64 “Indecisiveness is not uncommon in Ashʿarite epistemology”, cited in Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, p. 284. 65 See for instance the work of the Iraqi nuclear physicist Muhammad Ba¯sil at-Ta¯ʾı¯, Daqı¯q al˙ ˙ ¯ lam al-Kutub kala¯m, al-ruʾya al-isla¯miyya li-falsafat at-tabı¯ʿa, ʿA al-Hadı¯th,˙ Irbid 2010. ˙ ˙ ˙ 66 Anscombe noticed this in her “Causality”, p. 133.

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be supported by neuroscience, provoking a crisis in the Enlightenment project. Modernity was premised, as Kenneth Gergen has shown, on the possibility of assessing the intentions of others,67 but this, while officially proclaimed, and hailed as the ground for national and international laws and conventions, has been philosophically undermined, supplying another proof of Jürgen Habermas’ contention that “modernism is dominant but dead.”68 This brief comparative survey suggests that the creation of an infrastructure for a mature Islamic theology in German universities has come at an interesting and opportune time, in which the decline of Enlightenment universalism allows theologians actively to challenge the increasingly fragile premises of traditional secular reason. By expanding from Oriental Studies into a position in which it can contribute to, as well as be subjected to, philosophical assessment, an Islamic Studies informed by the spirit of the Taha¯fut might supply, not only a cohort of civil servants usefully promoting social cohesion, but a helpful augmentation of the contemporary debate over the West’s crisis of knowledge.

Bibliography Abdullah, M. Amin, Kant and Ghazali: The Idea of Universality of Ethical Norms, Y. Landeck, Frankfurt 2000. Abul Quasem, Muhammad, The Ethics of al-Ghazali: A Composite Ethics in Islam, Quasem, Petaling Jaya c1975. Açar, Rahim, Talking about God and Talking about Creation: Avicenna’s and Thomas Aquinas’ Positions, E.J. Brill, Leiden 2005. Anscombe, G.E.M., Intention, Basil Blackwell, Oxford 1957. Anscombe, G.E.M., “Causality and Determination”, in: Anscombe, G.E.M., The Collected Philosophical Papers of G.E.M. Anscombe, vol. 2, Basil Blackwell, Oxford 1981. Anscombe, G.E.M., “Twenty Opinions Common among Modern Anglo-American Philosophers”, in: Anscombe, G.E.M. (ed. Geach, Mary/Gormally, Luke), Faith in a Hard Ground: Essays on Religion, Philosophy and Ethics, Imprint Academic, Exeter 2008, pp. 66–68. Ayhan, Halis, Türkiye’de Din Eg˘itimi 1920–1998, Marmara Üniversitesi I˙lahiyat Vakfı, Istanbul 1999. Bauer, Hans, Islamische Ethik. Nach den Originalquellen übersetzt und erläutert. Heft 1. Über Intention, reine Absicht und Wahrhaftigkeit, M. Niemeyer, Halle a. d. S. 1916. Black, Deborah L., “Intentionality in Medieval Arabic Philosophy”, in: Quaestio, 10 (2010), pp. 65–81. 67 Kenneth J. Gergen, The Saturated Self: Dilemmas of Identity in Contemporary Life, Basic Books, New York 1991, pp. 103–104. 68 Jürgen Habermas, “Modernity – An Incomplete Project”, in: Hal Foster (ed.), The AntiAesthetic, Bay Press, Port Townsend 1983, pp. 3–15, see p. 6.

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Burrell, David B./Daher, Nazih (trans.), Al-Ghaza¯lı¯: The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God: al-Maqsad al-asna¯ fi sharh asma¯’ Alla¯h al-husna¯, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge ˙ ˙ ˙ 1992. Cherti, Miriam/Bradley, Laura, Inside Madrassas: Understanding and Engaging with British-Muslim Faith Supplementary Schools, Institute for Public Policy Research, London 2011. Copleston, Francis, A History of Medieval Philosophy, Methuen, London 1972. Clark, Francis, Anglican Orders and Defect of Intention, Longmans, Green and Co., London/New York/Toronto 1956. Corbin, Henry (trans. Nancy Pearson), The Man of Light in Iranian Sufism, Shambhala, Boulder 1978. Daiber, Hans, The Struggle for Knowledge in Islam: Some Historical Aspects, Kult, Sarajevo 2004. Department of Communities and Local Government, The Training and Development of Muslim Faith Leaders: Current Practice and Future Possibilities, Department of Communities and Local Government, London 2010. El-Bizri, Nader, “The Labyrinth of Philosophy in Islam”, in: Comparative Philosophy, 1 (2010), pp. 3–23. Ess, Josef van, Theologie und Gesellschaft im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra. Eine Geschichte des religiösen Denken im frühen Islam, 6 vols., de Gruyter, Berlin 1991–1996. Flint, J., “Faith Schools, Multiculturalism and Community Cohesion”, in: Policy and Politics, 35 (2007), pp. 251–268. Fuess, Albrecht, “Introducing Islamic Theology at German Universities, Aims and Priorities”, University of Copenhagen, 2011, URL: http://islam.ku.dk/lectures/Fuess.pdf (accessed February 28, 2012). al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, 4 vols., Mustafa¯ al-Halabı¯, Cairo 1347 AH. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙˙ al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa, text with trans. by Michael E. Marmura, Brigham ˙ Young University Press, Provo 1997. Gellner, Ernest, Muslim Society, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1981. Gergen, Kenneth J., The Saturated Self: Dilemmas of Identity in Contemporary Life, Basic Books, New York 1991. Ghaly, Mohammed M., “The Academic Training of Imams: Recent Discussions and Initiatives in the Netherlands”, in: Drees, Willem B./Koningsveld, Pieter Sjoerd van (eds.), The Study of Religion and the Training of Muslim Clergy in Europe, Leiden University Press, Leiden 2008, pp. 369–403. Griffel, Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2009. Gyekye, Kwame, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Action”, in: Ghazâlî: la raison et le miracle, Maisonneuve & Larose, Paris 1987, pp. 83–91. Habermas, Jürgen, “Modernity – An Incomplete Project”, in: Foster, Hal (ed.), The AntiAesthetic, Bay Press, Port Townsend 1983, pp. 3–15. Howard, Thomas Albert, Protestant Theology and the Making of the Modern German University, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2006. Hix, Simon, What’s Wrong with the European Union and How to Fix It, Polity Press, Cambridge 2008. Ivens, Michael (ed. Munitiz, Joseph A.), Keeping in Touch: Posthumous Papers on Ignatian Topics, Gracewing, Leominster 2007.

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Johansen, Birgitte Schepelern, “Legitimizing Islamic Theology at European Universities”, in: Drees, Willem B.,/Koningsveld, Pieter Sjoerd van (eds.), The Study of Religion and the Training of Muslim Clergy in Europe, Leiden University Press, Leiden 2008, pp. 445– 468. al-Ka¯sa¯nı¯, ʿAla¯’ ad-Dı¯n Abu¯ Bakr, Bada¯’iʿ as-sana¯’iʿ fı¯ tartı¯b ash-shara¯ʾiʿ, Da¯r Ihya¯ʾ at˙ ˙˙ Tura¯th al-ʿArabı¯ / Muʾassasat at-Ta¯rı¯kh al-ʿArabı¯, Beirut 1421/2000. Kemalpas¸azadeh, [Ahmad], Risa¯la al-munı¯ra, Sahha¯f Ahmad Efendi, Istanbul 1296 AH. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙˙ Lamm, Norman, The Shema: Spirituality and Law in Judaism, Jewish Publications Society, Philadelphia 1998. Lewis, Bernard, The Emergence of Modern Turkey, Oxford University Press, Oxford 1961. Littlejohn, Henry T., Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Patience and Thankfulness: Kita¯b al-Sabr wa’l-shukr. ˙ Book XXXII of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2011. Marenbon, John, Later Medieval Philosophy (1150–1350): An Introduction, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London 1987. Massignon, Louis (trans. Benjamin Clark), Essay on the Origins of the Technical Language of Islamic Mysticism, University of Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame 1997. al-Muha¯sibı¯, al-Ha¯rith b. Asad, Al-Riʿa¯ya li-huqu¯q Alla¯h, Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1984. ˙ ˙ ˙ Ormsby, Eric L., Al-Ghaza¯lı¯: Love, Longing, Intimacy and Contentment, Kita¯b al-Mahabba ˙ wa’l-shawq wa’l-uns wa’l-rida¯. Book XXXVI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, ˙ Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2011. Ormsby, Eric L., Theodicy in Islamic Thought: The Dispute over al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s “Best of All Possible Worlds”, Princeton University Press, Princeton 1984. Pouzet, Louis, Une herméneutique de la tradition islamique: Le commentaire des Arbaʿu¯n al-Nawawı¯ya de Muhyı¯ al-Dı¯n Yahya al-Nawawı¯ (m. 676/1277), Dar El-Machreq, Beirut ˙ ˙ 1982. Powers, Paul R., Intent in Islamic Law: Motive and Meaning in Medieval Sunnı¯ Fiqh, E.J. Brill, Leiden 2006. Powers, Paul R., “Interiors, Intentions and the ‘Spirituality’ of Islamic Ritual Practice”, in: Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 72 (2004), pp. 425–459. al-Sha¯fiʿı¯, Muhammad b. Idrı¯s (ed. ʿAbd al-Muttalib, Rifʿat Fawzı¯), Kita¯b al-Umm, Da¯r al˙ ˙˙ Wafa¯ʾ, al-Mansu¯ra 1422/2001. ˙ Scholem, Gershom, Kabbalah, New York 1974. Schroeder, Henry J. (trans.), Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, TAN Books, Rochford 21978. ¯ lam at-Ta¯’ı¯, Muhammad Ba¯sil, Daqı¯q al-kala¯m, al-ruʾya al-isla¯miyya li-falsafat at-tabı¯ʿa, ʿA ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙˙ al-Kutub al-Hadı¯th, Irbid 2010. ˙ Teichmann, Roger, The Philosophy of Elizabeth Anscombe, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2008. Wegner, Donald, The Illusion of Conscious Will, MIT Press, Cambridge (MA)/London 2002. Wensinck, Arent J., The Muslim Creed: Its Genesis and Historical Development, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1932. Wielenberg, Erik J., Value and Virtue in a Godless Universe, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2005. Zelcer, Heshey, “The Mystical Spirituality of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik”, in: Hakirah, 11 (2011), pp. 135–148.

II. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und Islam und Wissenschaft im Dialog

Merdan Günes¸

Epistemologie bei al-G˙aza¯lı¯

1.

Einführung

Der Mensch ist ein Wesen der Mitte, also ein Geschöpf, das verschiedene Elemente in sich vereinigt. Das Erkenntnisvermögen ist kennzeichnend für den Menschen und unterscheidet ihn von den Tieren. Vor allen Dingen ist er ein Geschöpf, das Gegensätze verbindet. Er stellt einen Kreuzpunkt zwischen Schöpfung und Schöpfer dar. Einerseits ist er verbunden mit dem Erschaffenen und somit vergänglich, andererseits ist er mit dem Schöpfer verbunden und somit unvergänglich.1 Die Wissenschaft von der Religion, wie sie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ verstanden hat und begründen will, ist die von Menschen an Menschen gerichtete Lehre. Hierin liegt die religionshistorische Bedeutung der von al-G˙aza¯lı¯ geforderten Reform: die Religion soll wieder Religiosität, die Predigt wieder Lehre werden.2 Seine eigenen Zeitgenossen hielt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ für unwissend im Wissen und blind im Glauben. Einerseits will er daher die Grenzen der reinen Wissenschaft feststellen, um ihr innerhalb dieser Grenzen die vollste Würdigung erweisen zu können. Andererseits will er aber auch über diese Grenzen hinausgehendes Wissen aufheben, um für den lebendigen, echten, wahren Glauben Platz zu machen.3 1 In seiner Kindheit bereits machte er die Erfahrung, dass zwei Persönlichkeiten in ihm lebendig waren. Persönlichkeit Nr. 1 war der Junge im Kreis der Familie und in der Schule und unter anderen Jungen. Persönlichkeit Nr. 2 war das, was aus ihm selbst heraus wollte, was die Nähe zur Natur suchte, sich in Träumen verlieren konnte und bei Gott war. Nr. 1 stand in Beziehung zur äußeren Welt, Nr. 2 zur inneren. Viel später erst nannte er Nr. 1 das Ich und Nr. 2 das Selbst und erkannte, dass es für seine Persönlichkeitsentwicklung am gesündesten sei, wenn sich diese beiden arrangieren und einander ergänzen würden, statt auseinanderzufallen, siehe Wolfgang G. Esser, Philosophische Gottsuche – Von der Antike bis heute, Kösel, München 2002, S. 26, 88; Reshad Feild, Das Siegel des Derwisch, übers. v. Jochen Eggert, Eugen Diederichs, Düsseldorf 71986, S. 10. 2 Julian Obermann, Der philosophische und religiöse Subjektivismus al-Ghaza¯lı¯s, Wilhelm Brauchmüller Universitäts-Verlagsbuchhandlung, Wien/Leipzig 1921, S. 102. 3 Ebd., S. 40–41.

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Nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯ besteht die Glückseligkeit für jedes Ding in dem, woran es seine Lust hat und worin es seine Befriedigung findet. Dies jedoch entspricht seiner Natur und seinem Zweck.4 „So besteht die Lust zur Begierde in der Erfüllung ihrer Wünsche, die Lust des Zornmutes in der Rache an den Feinden, die Lust des Auges in schönen Gestalten, die Lust des Ohres in lieblichen Tönen und Melodien. Dementsprechend besteht auch die Lust des Herzens in dem, was seine besondere Eigenart ist und um seinetwillen es geschaffen ist, das ist die Erkenntnis des wahren Wesens der Dinge.“5 Daher gibt es keine Erkenntnis, die edler und lustvoller wäre als die Erkenntnis Gottes, und keinen Anblick, der schöner wäre als der Anblick der Gottheit.6 Das Herz verlangt das Wissen und nur mit ihm ist es zufrieden zu stellen. Es kann nur durch Wissen im Leben erhalten werden.7

2.

Wissen ist Licht Gottes

Nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Ansicht ist das wahre Wissen wie ein Licht, das einem unmittelbar durch Gott geschenkt wird,8 denn „Gott ist an sich und für sich offenbar“,9 um Ihn aber zu erkennen, braucht man das Licht. Licht bedeutet in diesem Zusammenhang immer etwas, das zum rechten Pfad führt.10 Die Unwissenheit ist nach ihm wie Blindheit und Finsternis.11 „Und wahrlich, der Blinde ist dem Sehenden nicht gleich, noch ist es die Finsternis dem Lichte, […]“12 so unterscheidet der Koran. Wer vom geraden Pfad abkomme, sei in der Finsternis.13 Den Gegensatz „Licht und Finsternis“ behandelt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in der Misˇka¯t. Die Finsternis, von der er spricht, wird im Koran folgendermaßen erklärt: „[…] wie Finsternis in einem abgrundtiefen Meer, das von einer Woge bedeckt wird, über 4 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Das Elixier der Glückseligkeit, aus dem Persischen und Arabischen übertr. v. Helmut Ritter, Eugen Diederichs, München 61996, S. 65. ˙ aza¯lı¯), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, 5 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ as-saʿa¯da (Majmu¯ʿat rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-G Beirut/Libanon 1996, S. 139–140; al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 65. 6 Ebd., S. 66; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Majmu¯ʿa), S. 140. 7 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ar-Risa¯la al-ladunniyya (Majmu¯ʿa), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2001, S. 63. 8 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Der Erretter aus dem Irrtum (al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l), aus dem Arabischen übers. ¯ ˙ v. ʿAbd-Elsamad ʿAbd-Elhamı¯d Elschazlı¯, Felix Meiner,˙Hamburg, 1988, S. 10; vgl. Tilman ˙ ˙ Nagel, Geschichte der islamischen Theologie – Von Mohammed bis zur Gegenwart, C. H. Beck, München 1994, S. 233. ˙ aza¯lı¯), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/ 9 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t (Majmu¯ʿat rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-G Libanon 2001, S. 29; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Die Nische der Lichter (Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r), aus dem Arabischen übers. v. ʿAbd-Elsamad ʿAbd-Elhamı¯d Elschazlı¯, Felix Meiner, Hamburg 1987, S. 54. 10 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t˙ (Majmu¯ʿa), S. ˙26. 11 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ar-Risa¯la al-ladunniyya, S. 59. 12 Koran 35:19,20 13 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ar-Risa¯la al-ladunniyya, S. 59.

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der eine weitere Woge liegt, […] eine Finsternis über der anderen. Und wem Allah kein Licht gibt, der hat kein Licht!“14 Dieses Zusammensein von Licht und Finsternis findet al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in folgendem hadı¯t bestätigt: „Allah hat siebzig Schleier aus Licht und Finsternis. Wenn Er sie ˙ ¯ entfernen würde, dann würde der Glanz Seines Antlitzes alle, die Ihn mit ihrem Blick erreichen, verbrennen.“15 Ein Schleier bezieht sich notwendigerweise auf etwas Verhülltes. Die Verhüllten unter den Menschen teilen sich nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in drei Klassen auf. In der ersten Klasse sind diejenigen, die aus reiner Finsternis bestehen, in der zweiten Klasse finden sich die Menschen, die aus einem Gemisch aus Licht und Finsternis bestehen, und in der dritten Klasse sind die Menschen, die aus reinem Licht bestehen.16 Und nur Gott kann die Finsternis durch Licht erleuchten.

3.

Weg zum Wissen

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ stellt zwei verschiedene Wege dar, sich Wissen anzueignen: Einmal den menschlichen (insa¯nı¯) und zum zweiten den göttlichen (rabba¯nı¯). Der erste Weg ist jedem vernunftbegabten Menschen bekannt.17 Er umfasst zwei verschiedene Arten des Lernens: Zum einen das taʿallum, welches man sich von außen aneignet, zum anderen das tafakkur, welches einen Zustand des intensiven Nachdenkens bezeichnet, das über die menschliche Begrenztheit (asˇ-sˇahs al-gˇuzʾı¯) des ˘ taʿallum hinausgeht, indem es sich der absoluten Kapazität, der allumfassenden 18 nafs kulliyya bedient. Wenn das Licht der Vernunft über die Sinne Oberhand gewinnt, kann, wer Wissen anstrebt, in einer Stunde tafakkur mehr Wissen erwerben als ein anderer in einem Jahr auf dem normalen Weg (taʿallum). al-G˙aza¯lı¯ erinnert hier daran, dass niemand alles lernen kann. Deswegen soll man, nachdem man sich die Grundkenntnisse an Wissen angeeignet hat, durch tafakkur die Zusammenhänge 14 Koran 24:40. 15 Bouman, Glaubenskrise und Glaubensgewissheit im Christentum und im Islam, Bd. II: Die Theologie al-Ghazalis und Augustinus im Vergleich, Brunnen, Giessen/Basel 1990, S. 176; alG˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Lichter, S. 54. Dieser hadı¯t hat mehrere Varianten, was die Zahl anbelangt. ˙ ¯ Es ist die Rede von siebenhundert, siebentausend und siebzigtausend. In allen Fällen handelt es sich um eine Mehrzahl von sieben, die Zahl der Vollkommenheit und Unbegrenztheit in der islamischen Tradition, siehe al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Lichter, S. 54. 16 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Lichter, S. 54. 17 In den zwei voneinander unabhängigen Veröffentlichungen des Quelltextes Magˇmu¯ʿat rasa¯ʾil ˙ aza¯lı¯, Beirut 1996 und Mekka o. J., Transkriptionen der Handschriften al-G˙aal-ima¯m al-G za¯lı¯s, steht an dieser Stelle fälschlicherweise rabba¯nı¯, das heißt göttlich. Aus dem Kontext lässt sich jedoch klar erkennen, dass es sich dabei um einen Transkriptionsfehler handeln muss. 18 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ar-Risa¯la al-ladunniyya (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 67–68.

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erkennen und Resultate erlangen.19 Er fügte ein hadı¯t hinzu: „Eine Stunde Me˙ ¯ ditation ist besser als 60 Jahre Gottesdienst.“ Das göttliche Wissen kann durch Offenbarung vermittelt werden. Da die Mittler ausschließlich Propheten sind, kann man hier von prophetischem Wissen (nabawı¯) sprechen. Fromme Gelehrte sind zwar von dieser Art des Wissens ausgenommen, doch sind sie zum kasˇf fähig: Durch ilha¯m, d. h. Intuition (Eingebung), können sie eine Ahnung von ansonsten verborgenem Wissen erlangen. Dieses Wissen bezeichnet al-G˙aza¯lı¯ als al-ʿilm al-ladunnı¯. Auch hier stellt er also wieder zwei Untergruppen fest. Offenbarung (wahy) bedeutet Enthüllung des ˙ bisher Unbekannten, während ilha¯m dessen Andeutung ist. Beim ilha¯m gibt es keinen Mittler zwischen Gott und Mensch. Wissenschaft

Religiöse (

)

Rationale (

Lehre vom Wissen über Eingottglauben das Handeln (taw ) (al) Recht Gottes = (z. B. Gottesdienste)

Recht des Menschen = aqq ald

Rechwissenschaft ( al-mu mala

)

al-mu qada

Mathematik & Logik

Recht des Selbst = aqq an-nafs (a l ) ma (getadelte) (g

Naturwissenschaften

Notwendiges (Schöpfer)

)

Philosophie

Mögliches (Geschöpf)

ma (gelobte)

(z.B. Ehevertrag)

ta awwuf Abb. 1: Wissenschaft und tasawwuf ˙

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ beschreibt die Zusammenführung der Wissenschaften in seiner arRisa¯la al-ladunniyya wie folgt: Nach ihm gibt es keine wahre, wirkliche Trennung

19 Ebd., S. 68.

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63

zwischen rationalem und religiösem Wissen. Wissen ohne Tat ist Torheit und eine Handlung ohne Wissen ist wertlos.20

4.

Mittel zum Wissen (Vernunft und Herz)

Die Begriffe Herz (qalb), Verstand (ʿaql), Triebseele (nafs) und Seele (ru¯h) ˙ besitzen eine einzelne für sie charakteristische mit der Materie verbundene Bedeutung. Daneben haben sie jedoch noch eine gemeinsame spirituelle Bedeutung: Sie verkörpern alle eine erkennende, wahrnehmende und wissende Wesenheit. Dies stellt die wahre Bedeutung des Menschen dar.21

4.1

ʿaql (Wissen durch Vernunft)

„Das erste, was Allah erschaffen hat, ist die Vernunft.“22 Nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯ ist die Vernunft der Name eines Engels, oder ist als Qalam (Schreibfeder) 23 zu verstehen. „Das erste, was Allah erschaffen hat, ist der Stift.“24 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ weist ʿaql vier verschiedene Bedeutungen zu. Zum einen sei ʿaql eine Qualität (wasf), durch die sich der Mensch von allen Tieren unterscheidet. Die ˙ zweite Bedeutung sieht ʿaql als das ganze Wissen, das sich beim Kind entwickelt und es in die Lage versetzt, das Mögliche vom Unmöglichen zu unterscheiden, z. B. dass zwei mehr sind als eins. Die dritte Bedeutung ist das Wissen, das durch Erfahrung zustande kommt, und in der vierten Bedeutung kann dieser natürliche Instinkt der Vernunft erreichen, dass der Mensch durch sie die Folgen seiner Taten erkennen und seine Begierden kontrollieren kann.25 Wenn der Verstand als logisches Denken bzw. Denkkraft und die Vernunft als oberstes Erkenntnisvermögen, welches den Verstand kontrolliert und diesem Grenzen setzt, verstanden wird,26 so kann man nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯ die ersten beiden Bedeutungen von ʿaql mit Verstand und die letzten beiden Bedeutungen mit Vernunft gleichsetzen. Da die Ausdrücke verschieden sein können, sieht al-G˙aza¯lı¯ 20 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, O Kind! (Ayyuha¯’l-walad), übers. v. Muhammed Harun Riedinger, Edition Minarett, Braunschweig 2002, S. 104. 21 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2004, S. 705; al˙ a at-ta¯libı¯n (Magˇmu¯ʿa), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2001, S. 31; G˙aza¯lı¯, Rawd ˙ ˙ ˙ Sherif, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, State University of New York Press, Mohamed Ahmed 1975, S. 25. 22 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, -Faysal at-tafriqa (Magˇmu¯ʿa), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 1996, S. 82. ˙ (nun). Beim Schreibrohr und (bei) dem, was man (damit) niederschreibt!” 23 Koran 68:1,2: “n 24 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Faysal at-tafriqa, S. 82. ˙ 25 Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 87–88. ˙ 26 Al-Gaza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Der Erretter, S. XXXIff.

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keinen Sinn darin, sich mit Namen aufzuhalten.27 Im Koran wird der Mensch immer wieder aufgefordert, seinen Verstand zu gebrauchen,28 daher ist der erste Grundsatz des Islam, den Verstand zu gebrauchen, um sich den Glauben anzueignen.29 Im Herzen des Menschen existiert eine Stelle, die das göttliche Licht genannt wird,30 gemäß dem Vers: „Ist denn einer, dem Gott die Brust für den Islam geweitet hat, so dass er von seinem Herrn erleuchtet ist.“31 Sie wird auch Vernunft, innere geistige Sehkraft oder Licht des Glaubens und der Gewissheit genannt.32 Philosophen behaupteten, der Kopf sei der Sitz der Vernunft. Andere aber, zu denen al-G˙aza¯lı¯ gehört, waren der Meinung, dass das Herz der Ort der Vernunft sei.33 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ verachtete nicht die Vernunft, sondern lehnte nur ihren Anspruch auf Allmacht ab.34 Als entscheidenden Vorteil der Vernunft (ʿaql) betrachtete er die Hilfe, die sie beim Verstehen der Prophetie leistet. Der Verstand kann nach alG˙aza¯lı¯ nur so weit gehen, wie er in der Lage ist, etwas zu erklären. Was jedoch darüber hinausgeht, liegt außerhalb seiner Zuständigkeit. Genauso verhält es sich bei einem Kranken, der die Anweisungen des Arztes verstehen soll, nicht aber die Medizin.35 Die Lehrer der paradoxen Logik36 bestätigen die Auffassungen al-G˙aza¯lı¯s. Sie stimmen mit ihm überein, dass der Mensch die letzte Wirklichkeit niemals verstandesmäßig erfassen kann. Für die Entwicklung des Islam hatte dieser Gedanke weitreichende Folgen, denn es wurde nicht mehr versucht, das letzte ˙ aza¯lı¯s Lehre von den Stufen zur Gottesliebe (Die Bücher 31–36 27 Gramlich, Muhammad al-G ˙ seines Hauptwerkes), Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden 1984, S. 656. 28 Murad Wilfried Hofmann, Den Islam verstehen – Vorträge 1996–2006, Cag˘rı Yayınları – S¸aban Kurt, I˙stanbul 2007, S. 8. 29 Nagel, Geschichte der islamischen Theologie, S. 253; Claire Lalouette, Weisheit des Orients – Vom alten Ägypten bis zum Islam, Königsfurt-Verlag, Klein Königsförde 2001, S. 197. 30 Gramlich, Gottesliebe, S. 656; al-Jurgˇa¯nı¯, At-Taʿrı¯fa¯t, Librairie du Liban, Beirut 1985, S. 196. 31 Koran 39:22. 32 Gramlich, Gottesliebe, S. 656; Nagel, Geschichte der islamischen Theologie, S. 233. Sie ist die Veranlagung, mit der man die Wahrheit der Dinge erkennt, siehe al-Jurgˇa¯nı¯, At-Taʿrı¯fa¯t, S. 196. 33 Al-Jurgˇa¯nı¯, At-Taʿrı¯fa¯t, S. 197; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 66; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 140; Omer Ali-Shah, Sufismus für den Alltag, Eugen Diederichs, München 1993, S. 263. 34 Karim Azkoul, Glaube und Vernunft im Mohammedanismus, dargestellt nach dem größten Denker des Islam al-Ghazali, Hansdruckerei, München 1938, S. 71; Gerhard Schweizer, Die Derwische – Heilige und Ketzer des Islam, Das Bergland-Buch, Salzburg 21984, S. 139. 35 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Der Erretter, S. 56–57; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 43. 36 Die paradoxe Logik steht im Gegensatz zur aristotelischen Logik. Dabei wird angenommen, dass A und Nicht-A sich als Prädikat von X nicht ausschließen. Die paradoxe Logik dominierte das chinesische und indische Denken und in der Philosophie des Heraklit. Später tauchte sie unter der Bezeichnung Dialektik in der Philosophie von Hegel und Marx wieder auf, siehe Erich Fromm, Die Kunst des Liebens, Ullstein, Berlin 612005, S. 88.

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Ziel auf denkerischem Wege zu finden. Es wurde akzeptiert, dass die Vernunfterkenntnis auf Spekulation beruht und diskursiv ist, während die Herzenserkenntnis auf Intuition (kasˇf) und Erlebnis beruht. Der Herzenserkenntnis ist ein höherer Stellenwert zuzuordnen, da die Vernunfterkenntnis beschränkt, die Herzenserkenntnis jedoch grenzenlos ist.37 Das Denken kann den Menschen zwar zur Erkenntnis führen, doch eine letzte Antwort kann es ihm nicht geben. Die Gottesliebe besteht weder im verstandesmäßigen Wissen über Gott noch in der gedanklichen Vorstellung, Ihn zu lieben, sondern „im Akt des Erlebens des Einsseins mit Gott. Vom Standpunkt der paradoxen Logik aus ist nicht das Denken, sondern das Erleben das Wichtigste im Leben.“38 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ zählt zwei Gründe auf, weshalb unser Verstand etwas nicht zu begreifen vermag. Zum einen, weil etwas an sich verborgen und dunkel ist, und zum anderen, weil etwas äußerst offenkundig ist.39 „So ist auch unser Verstand schwach, die Schönheit der göttlichen Hoheit aber überaus leuchtend und glanzvoll, und sie lässt alles so sehr in ihrer umfassenden Weite versinken, dass kein Atom im Reich der Himmel und der Erde sich ihrer Sichtbarwerdung (an Ihm) entziehen kann. Daher ist ihre Sichtbarkeit ein Grund für ihre Verborgenheit. Gepriesen sei Der, Der sich durch das Leuchten Seines Lichtes verhüllt und Sich vor der inneren und äußeren Sehkraft durch Seine Sichtbarkeit verbirgt!“40 Er führt logische Erklärungsversuche mit folgendem Beispiel ad absurdum: „Nehmen wir an, dass ein Kind und ein Erwachsener, die beide gläubig starben, in den Himmel gekommen sind; aber der Erwachsene nimmt dort einen höheren Rang ein. Das Kind wird Gott fragen: ‚Warum hast Du diesem Mann einen höheren Rang gegeben?‘ Und Gott wird antworten: ‚Er hat viele gute Werke 37 Azkoul, Glaube und Vernunft, S. 23; Annemarie Schimmel, Rumi – Ich bin Wind und du bist Feuer – Leben und Werk des großen Mystikers, Heinrich Hugendubel, Kreuzlingen/München 2003, S. 119; Yas¸ar Nuri Öztürk, Rumi und die islamische Mystik – Über das Menschenbild im Islam, aus dem Türkischen v. Nevfel Cumart, Grupello, Düsseldorf 2002, S. 65; „Der Verstand ist ausgezeichnet und wünschenswert, damit er dich zur Tür des Königs bringt. Wenn du sein Tor erreicht hast, so gib dich ganz hin und scheide dich vom Verstand; denn in dieser Stunde ist der Verstand nur ein Verlust für dich und ein Straßenräuber!“, sagt Rumı¯, Schimmel, Rumı¯, S. 119. 38 Fromm, Kunst des Liebens, S. 92–94. Das paradoxe Denken führe zur Toleranz und zur Bemühung, sich selbst zu wandeln. Der aristotelische Standpunkt führe zum Dogma und zur Wissenschaft, zur katholischen Kirche und zur Entdeckung der Atomenergie, siehe Fromm, Kunst des Liebens, S. 93–94. 39 Gramlich, Gottesliebe, S. 679; Richard Gramlich, Der eine Gott, Grundzüge der Mystik des islamischen Monotheismus, Harrosowitz, Wiesbaden 1998, S. 130. Das ist wie bei der Fledermaus, die bei Nacht sieht, bei Tag aber nicht, nicht weil der Tag verborgen und verschleiert wäre, sondern weil er gar so sehr sichtbar ist. Denn das Auge der Fledermaus ist so schwach, dass es beim Aufleuchten des Sonnenlichtes verwirrt wird. Die Stärke der Sichtbarkeit des Sonnenlichtes ist zusammen mit der Schwäche ihres Auges ein Grund dafür, dass sie nicht sehen kann, Gramlich, Gottesliebe, S. 680; Gramlich, Gott, S. 130; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, Bd. 4, S. 312. ˙ 40 Gramlich, Gottesliebe, S. 680; Gramlich, Gott, S. 88.

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getan.‘ Das Kind wird dann sagen: ‚Warum hast Du mich so früh sterben lassen, dass ich keine guten Werke tun konnte?‘ Gott wird antworten: ‚Ich wusste, dass du ein Sünder werden würdest; es war daher besser, dass du als Kind gestorben bist.‘ Dann erhebt sich ein Geschrei von den Verdammten in der Tiefe der Hölle: ‚Warum, o Gott, ließest Du uns nicht sterben, ehe wir Sünder wurden?‘“41 „Der Verstand wird die Handlungsweise Gottes niemals ergründen können und vermag deswegen auch kein Urteil über das, was Gott für gut oder schlecht hält, zu fällen.“42 Die Gedanken al-G˙aza¯lı¯s über die Geltung und die Grenzen der Vernunft könnten folgendermaßen zusammengefasst werden: 1) Die Vernunft kann sich selbst nicht rechtfertigen. Sie braucht eine Art göttliche Erleuchtung. 2) Der Geltungsbereich der Vernunft umfasst die ganze geistige Welt. Bei der Erklärung der göttlichen Dinge hört ihre Autorität jedoch auf. 3) Ohne die Offenbarung kann die Vernunft kein Urteil im Bereich des Glaubens fällen. 4) Es gibt eine Erkenntnisquelle, die unmittelbarer und breiter ist als die Vernunft: mystische Erleuchtung. Sie steht über der Vernunft, ohne sie jedoch auszuschalten.43

4.2

Nubuwwa (Wissen durch Prophetie)

„Jenseits der Vernunft (ʿaql) gibt es ein anderes Stadium, in dem sich ein anderes Auge öffnet, mit dem der Mensch das, was in der Zukunft geschehen wird, das Verborgene und andere Dinge erblickt, von denen die Vernunft ebenso ausgeschlossen ist wie das Unterscheidungsvermögen von der Wahrnehmung der rationalen Dinge (Intelligibilia) und das Sehvermögen von den Wahrnehmungen des Unterscheidungsvermögens“.44 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ misst dem Traum eine besondere Bedeutung bei, denn er ist – als eine Gabe Allahs – ein Beispiel, ein Modell des Prophetentums, weil der Schlafende das wahrnimmt, was in der Zukunft ge41 Eleonore Bock, Meine Augen haben dich geschaut – Mystik in den Religionen der Welt, Benziger, Zürich 1991, S. 304; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 86; dieses Gespräch soll sich zwiˇ ubba¯ʾı¯ (g. 915) abgespielt haben, vgl. Nagel, schen al-Asˇʿarı¯ (873–935) und Abu¯ ʿAlı¯ al-G Geschichte der islamischen Theologie, S. 144. 42 Azkoul, Glaube und Vernunft, S. 69. 43 Ebd., S. 98; Evelyn Underhill, Mystik – Eine Studie über die Natur und Entwicklung des religiösen Bewusstseins im Menschen, Ernst Reinhardt, München 1928, S. 62–63. 44 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Der Erretter, S. 50; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 40; Heinrich Frick, Ghazali’s Selbstbiographie – Ein Vergleich mit Augustins Konfessionen, J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, Leipzig 1919, S. 10.

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schehen wird, entweder unmittelbar oder in Form eines Bildes, das durch Deutung erklärt wird.45 So wie die Vernunft ein Stadium in der Entwicklung des Menschen darstellt, in dem ein „Auge“ entsteht, mit dem verschiedene Arten von rationalen Dingen erblickt werden können, von denen die Sinne ausgeschlossen sind, so verhält es sich auch mit der Prophetie: Sie ist ebenfalls ein Stadium, indem ein „Auge“ entsteht, das ein Licht besitzt und in dessen Licht das Verborgene und andere Dinge sichtbar werden, die die Vernunft nicht wahrnimmt. Die meisten Eigenschaften der Prophetie werden nur durch das „Schmecken“ erkannt, wenn der Gläubige sich auf den Weg der Mystik begibt.46 Der Gläubige soll durch die Ausübung selbst erfahren, was der Prophet Muhammad über die religiösen ˙ Pflichten und Rituale und ihren Einfluss auf die Reinigung des Herzens gesagt hat. In einem hadı¯t heißt es dazu: „Wer gemäß seinem Wissen handelt, dem ˙ ¯ vermacht Gott das Wissen dessen, wovon er nichts weiß.“47

4.3

Kasˇf (Wissen durch Herz)

Die su¯fı¯s verwendeten den Begriff kasˇf als einen Ausdruck für das „Aneignen ˙ eines Wissens, welches sich hinter den Grenzen des Verstandes bzw. hinter einem Schleier befindet“,48 aber auch für das „Schauen der Manifestationen Gottes“.49 Das Wort muka¯ˇsafa, was so viel bedeutet wie „das Aufheben der Schleier zwischen zwei Sachen“, wurde oftmals als Synonym für kasˇf gebraucht, so auch bei al-Tha¯nvı¯.50 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, der beide Ausdrücke sehr intensiv analysierte, stellte den Begriff muka¯ˇsafa (Erleuchtung) vor den Begriff musˇa¯hada (Gottesschau).51 Er unterteilt die sufistischen Wissenschaften in muka¯ˇsafa-Lehren und in muʿa¯mala-Lehren. sabr (Geduld), ˇsukr (Lobpreisung), ihla¯s (Aufrichtigkeit) und die entsprechen˙ ˘ ˙ den Gegensätze Ungeduld, Undankbarkeit und Heuchelei gehören zu den 45 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, (Elschazlı¯), Der Erretter, S. 51–52. 46 Ebd., S. 50–52; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 40–41; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, O Kind! (Ayyuha¯’l-walad), aus dem Arabischen v. Muhammed Harun Riedinger, Edition Minarett, Braunschweig 2002, S. 37; Frick, Ghazali’s Selbstbiographie, S. 10. 47 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Elschazlı¯), Der Erretter, S. 52–53; vgl. auch: Frick, Ghazali’s Selbstbiographie, S. 10; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 41. 48 TDV ˙Islam Ansiklopedisi, Divantas¸ – I˙SAM, Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı I˙slam Aras¸tırmaları Merkezi, Ankara 2002, Bd. 25, S. 315. 49 Ebd. 50 Muhammad ʿAlı¯ Tha¯hanvı¯, A Dictionary of the Technical Terms Used in the Sciences of the ˙ Mussalmans, Part II, Suhail Academy Lahore, Pakistan 1993, S. 1254; TDV ˙Islam Ansiklopedisi, B. 25, S. 315. 51 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Imla¯ʾ ʿala musˇkil al-ihya¯ʾ, I, da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut 2001, S. 79. ˙

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muʿa¯mala-Lehren, die sich mit den Zuständen des Herzens befassen. Die muka¯ˇsafa-Lehren hingegen beschreibt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit „Licht“, das der erhabene Gott nur in gereinigte und naturreine Herzen wirft.52 4.3.1 Das Herz ist das Organ der Erkenntnis (kasˇf) Das Herz (qalb) ist das Organ der Schau53 und der Erkenntnis. Unter Herz versteht al-G˙aza¯lı¯ die ursprüngliche Natur des menschlichen Geistes (ru¯h), ˙ welches der Sitz der Gotteserkenntnis (maʿrifa) 54 ist, nicht aber das Fleisch und Blut, welches auch der Tote und das Tier haben. Wenn das Herz durch die Wirkungen der Vernachlässigung (g˙aflah) oder der Vergesslichkeit verschleiert ist, wird es von Leidenschaft und Unwissenheit beherrscht. Seine Reinigung durch den inneren (großen) gˇiha¯d ist Teil des Sufiweges und führt dazu, dass das „Auge des Herzens“ (ʿayn al-qalb) entschleiert wird und die Seele über die negativen Tendenzen der Triebseele triumphiert.55 Das Herz ist zugleich auch der Sitz des ¯ıma¯n (Glauben), wie es im Koran heißt.56 Nach al-G˙aza¯lı¯ besteht der Mensch aus Körper und Herz. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ benutzt eine bildhafte Sprache, um die Beziehungen zwischen den materiellen und immateriellen Aspekten des menschlichen Daseins zu beschreiben. Den Körper bezeichnet er als Reittier und die Gliedmaßen als Streitkräfte. Während das Herz selbst der König ist, sind der Körper und die Gliedmaßen untertan.57 Er stellt fest, dass das Herz geschaffen ist, um zur Erkenntnis Gottes und zur Schau der göttlichen Herrlichkeit zu gelangen. Daher richtet sich Gott an das Herz des Menschen, wenn Er mit ihm redet, ihm Pflichtgebote aufstellt, Lohn und Strafe bzw. seelisches Heil oder Verderben ankündigt. Der Körper wird nicht primär angesprochen, weil er nur zum Gefolge des Herzens zählt. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ schließt daraus, dass das Wesen des Herzens erkannt werden muss, um zur Gotteserkenntnis zu gelangen.58 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ widmet sich daraufhin den Streitkräften des Herzens, die auch als Mittel oder Werkzeuge des Herzens bezeichnet werden können.59

52 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, I, S. 27; II, S. 104; IV, S. 134. ˙ 53 Gramlich, Gott, S. 230; Reynold A. Nicholson, The Mystics of Islam, World Wisdom, Bloomington/Indiana 2002, S. 37. 54 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 66; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 140. 55 Ali-Shah, Sufismus, S. 264. 56 Vgl. Koran 49:14; Annemarie Schimmel, Die Zeichen Gottes – Die religiöse Welt des Islam, C. H. Beck, München 32002, S. 22. 57 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 37; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, III, 2005, S. 3, 9–10; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ ˙ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 420–421. 58 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 37; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 420–421. 59 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 40.

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Die äußeren Streitkräfte sind die fünf Sinne: Sehen, Hören, Riechen, Schmecken und Tasten. Die inneren haben ihren Sitz im Gehirn und sind ebenfalls fünf an der Zahl: Vorstellungskraft (haya¯liyya), Denkvermögen (wah˘ miyya), Gedächtnis (ha¯fiza), Erinnerungsvermögen (da¯kira) und die Einbil¯ ˙ 60 ˙ dungskraft (mufakkira). Jede dieser Kräfte hat ihre eigene Aufgabe, und versagt eine von ihnen, nimmt der ganze Mensch Schaden im Diesseits wie im Jenseits.61 Diese Streitkräfte, die äußeren wie die inneren, sind dem Herzen untertan, und das Herz ist ihr Anführer und König.62 Der Gehorsam dieser Streitkräfte gegenüber dem Herzen gleicht dem Gehorsam der Engel gegenüber Gott. AlG˙aza¯lı¯ erklärt die Beziehung des Leibes zum Herz folgendermaßen: „Der Leib ist das Königreich des Herzens, und in diesem Königreiche sind dem Herzen mancherlei Streitkräfte untertan: ‚Niemand kennt die Heere deines Herrn außer Ihm.‘[63] Das Herz ist geschaffen für die jenseitige Welt, und seine Aufgabe ist das Suchen seiner Glückseligkeit. Seine Glückseligkeit aber besteht in der Erkenntnis Gottes. Die Gotteserkenntnis erlangt das Herz durch die Erkenntnis der Werke Gottes. Diese gehören der Sinneswelt an, und daher erlangt das Herz die Erkenntnis der Wunder der Welt durch die Sinne, diese aber bedürfen wiederum zu ihrem Bestehen des Leibes. […] Das ist der Grund, warum das Herz des Leibes bedarf.“64 Das Herz kann durch Sünden und Begierden in einem solchen Maß verunreinigt sein, dass die Wahrheit darin nicht mehr sichtbar ist. Ein anderes Hindernis ist, dass das Herz sich wie ein Spiegel, der in die falsche Richtung aufgestellt ist, von dem Objekt des wahren Wissens abwendet. Ein weiteres Hindernis ist die Unwissenheit, d. h. wenn man nicht weiß, in welcher Richtung man die Wahrheit zu suchen hat. Sobald diese Hindernisse behoben sind, kann das Herz zur wahren Erkenntnis der göttlichen Dinge kommen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ erklärt diese Möglichkeit durch einen Vergleich des Spiegels des Herzens mit der im Koran genannten „wohlverwahrten Tafel“ (al-lawh al-mah fu¯z).65 Auf dieser Tafel hat Allah alle seine Beschlüsse bis ˙ ˙ ˙ auf den Tag der Auferstehung niedergeschrieben. Diese Tafel hat ebenfalls die Gestalt eines Spiegels. Zwischen dem Spiegel des Herzens und dem Spiegel der Tafel gibt es einen Schleier.66 Wenn nun dieser Schleier weggenommen wird, „dann manifestieren sich die wahrhaftigen Wirklichkeiten des Wissens (haqa¯’iq ˙ Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 422; al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 41. Ebd. Ebd.; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, III, 2005, S. 9, 13; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Rawda at-ta¯libı¯n (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 32–33. ˙ ¯ lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ, 2004, S. 706–707; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Rawd ˙ ˙ a˙ at-ta¯libı¯n (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 32– Koran 74:34; al-G˙aza ˙ ˙ ˙˙ 33. 64 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 40–41. 65 Koran 85:22. 66 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 135; Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 97–98. 60 61 62 63

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al-‘ulu¯m) von dem Spiegel der Tafel in den Spiegel des Herzens.“67 Diesen Schleier können jedoch nur diejenigen entfernen, die in Meditation und Zurückgezogenheit sich stetig Alla¯h in Erinnerung bringen (dikr).68 ¯ 4.3.2 Beweise des kasˇf Die Wahrheit, welche den Verstand überfordert, kann nur vom Herzen erkannt werden. Nach Erlangung dieser Erkenntnis versucht al-G˙aza¯lı¯, diese Tatsache auf zwei Arten zu beweisen. Der erste Beweis dafür, dass es im Innern des Herzens noch ein Fenster der Erkenntnis gibt, beruht auf zwei Dingen.69 Das eine ist der Schlaf – denn wenn im Schlafe sich das Tor der Sinne schließt, tut sich das innere Fenster auf, und aus der übersinnlichen Welt und der himmlischen Urtafel beginnt die verborgene Welt sich zu zeigen, bald in voller Klarheit, bald in Bildern, die einer Deutung bedürfen.70 Am vollkommensten aber verschwinden die Schleier mit dem Tod, wenn alle Schleier weggenommen werden.71 Den zweiten Beweis für die Fähigkeit des Herzens zur Erkenntnis der Wahrheit sieht al-G˙aza¯lı¯ darin, „dass es keinen Menschen gibt, der nicht solche wahren Ahnungen und Einfälle, die durch Eingebung in seine Seele traten, erlebt hätte. Denn solche Dinge kommen nicht auf dem Wege der Sinne, sondern treten im Herzen auf, man weiß nicht, von wo sie kommen. Soviel genügt, um einzusehen, dass nicht alles Wissen aus der Sinnenwelt stammt, und hieraus magst du erkennen, dass das Herz nicht aus dieser Welt ist, sondern aus der übersinnlichen Welt stammt.“72

5.

Erlerntes Wissen versus sufistische Erkenntnis

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ erklärt, dass das erlernte Wissen nicht unbedingt ein Hindernis für sufistische Erkenntnis ist: „Wenn sich ein Gelehrter von allem angelernten Wissen frei macht und sein Herz nicht dadurch gefangen sein lässt, so wird ihm das frühere Wissen nicht zur Scheidewand. […] Denn jene Glaubenssätze, die das gemeine Volk lernt, sind nur das Gehäuse für die Wahrheit, nicht die Wahrheit selbst. Die wahre Erkenntnis besteht darin, dass man jene Wahrheit von dem 67 Ebd., S. 96; Mohammad Umaruddı¯n, The Ethical Philosophy of al-Ghazzali, Publisher Malik Faiz Bukhsh, Lahore/Pakistan 21988, S. 101. 68 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Muhtasar Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, dabatah wa sahhahah Mahmu¯d Bayru¯tı¯, Da¯r al˙ ˙S. 50; al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya ˙ ¯ ʾ ˙(Magˇmu¯˙ ʿa), ˙ ˙ S.˙ 136. ˙ Bayru¯tı¯, Dimasˇ˘q 2004, 69 Ebd., S. 135; al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 51–52. 70 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 424; al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 52–53. 71 Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 96. 72 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Kı¯miya¯ʾ (Magˇmu¯ʿa), S. 125, 136.

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Gehäuse unterscheiden lernt, so wie das innere Mark von der umgebenden Haut.“73 Um dies zu verdeutlichen, bedient sich al-G˙aza¯lı¯ eines Gleichnisses.74 „Das Herz vergleicht er mit einem Wasserbecken und die Sinne mit Bächen, durch die das Wasser sich von außen in das Becken ergießt. Wenn du nun willst, dass das klare Wasser aus dem Grunde des Beckens emporquellen soll, so musst du jenes Wasser ganz daraus entfernen und all den schwarzen Schlamm, den es mitgeführt hat, heraus tun, all die Bäche verstopfen, und dann den Grund des Becken aufgraben, damit das reine klare Wasser aus dem Innern des Beckens emporquillt.“75 „Du sollst also wohl an den Weg des Sufismus und an den Vorrang der su¯fı¯s glauben; ˙ wenn aber einer von ihnen das gelehrte Wissen und die Gottesgelehrten schmäht, so 76 wisse, dass er damit nur seine Nichtigkeit beweist.“

Literatur Ali-Shah, Omer, Sufismus für den Alltag, Eugen Diederichs, München 1993. Azkoul, Karim, Glaube und Vernunft im Mohammedanismus, dargestellt nach dem größten Denker des Islam al-Ghazali, Hansdruckerei, München 1938. Bock, Eleonore, Meine Augen haben dich geschaut – Mystik in den Religionen der Welt, Benziger, Zürich 1991. Bouman, Glaubenskrise und Glaubensgewissheit im Christentum und im Islam, Band II: Die Theologie al-Ghazalis und Augustinus im Vergleich, Brunnen, Gießen/Basel 1990. Esser, Wolfgang G., Philosophische Gottsuche – Von der Antike bis heute, Kösel, München 2002. Feild, Reshad, Das Siegel des Derwisch, übers. v. Jochen Eggert, Eugen Diederichs, München 7 1986. Frick, Heinrich, Ghazali’s Selbstbiographie – Ein Vergleich mit Augustins Konfessionen, J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, Leipzig 1919. Fromm, Erich, Die Kunst des Liebens, Ullstein, Berlin 612005. al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad b. Muhammad, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, da¯r al-kutub al˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2004. Ders., Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, 4. Bde., 2005. ˙ Ders., O Kind! (Ayyuha¯’l-walad), übers. v. Muhammed Harun Riedinger, Edition Minarett, Braunschweig 2002. Ders., Der Erretter aus dem Irrtum (al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l), übers. und hrsg. v. ʿAbd¯ ˙ ˙ Elsamad ʿAbd-Elhamı¯d Elschazlı¯, Felix Meiner, Hamburg 1988. ˙ ˙ Ders., Die Nische der Lichter (Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r), übers. und hrsg. v. ʿAbd-Elsamad ʿAbd˙ Elhamı¯d Elschazlı¯, Felix Meiner, Hamburg 1987. ˙ 73 74 75 76

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 62. Bouman, Glaubenskrise, S. 97. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ (Ritter), Das Elixier, S. 61. Ebd., S. 64–65.

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Ders., Al-Imla¯ʾ ʿala musˇkil al-ihya¯ʾ 1, da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut 2001. ˙ Ders., Al-Madnu¯n as-sag˙¯ır (Magˇmu¯ʿa), da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 1996. ˙ ˙˙ Ders., Faysal at-tafriqa (Magˇmu¯ʿa), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 1996. ˙ ˙ aza¯lı¯), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Ders., Kı¯miya¯ʾ as-saʿa¯da (Magˇmu¯ʿat rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-G Beirut/Libanon 1996. ˙ aza¯lı¯, Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2001. Ders., Magˇmu¯ʿat rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-G Ders., Muhtasar Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, dabatah wa sahhahah Mahmu¯d Bayru¯tı¯, Da¯r al˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙˙ ˙ ˘ ˙ Bayru¯tı¯, Dimasˇq 2004. Ders., O Kind! (Ayyuha¯’l-walad), übers. v. Muhammed Harun Riedinger, Edition Minarett, Braunschweig 2002. Ders., Rawda at-ta¯libı¯n (Magˇmu¯ʿa), Da¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2001. ˙ ˙˙ Ders., Ar-Risa¯la al-ladunniyya (Magˇmu¯ʿa), Fa¯r al-kutub al-ʿilmiyya, Beirut/Libanon 2001. Gramlich, Richard, Der eine Gott, Grundzüge der Mystik des islamischen Monotheismus, Harrosowitz, Wiesbaden 1998. ˙ aza¯lı¯s Lehre von den Stufen zur Gottesliebe (Die Bücher 31–36 seines Ders., Muhammad al-G ˙ Hauptwerkes), Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden 1984. ˇ urgˇa¯nı¯, At-Taʿrı¯fa¯t, Librairie du Liban, Beirut 1985. al-G Hofmann, Murad Wilfried, Den Islam verstehen – Vorträge 1996–2006, Cag˘rı Yayınları – S¸aban Kurt, I˙stanbul 2007. Lalouette, Claire, Weisheit des Orients – Vom alten Ägypten bis zum Islam, Königsfurt, Klein Königsförde 2001. Nagel, Tilman, Geschichte der islamischen Theologie – Von Mohammed bis zur Gegenwart, C. H. Beck, München 1994. Nicholson, Reynold A., The Mystics of Islam, World Wisdom, Bloomington/Indiana 2002. Obermann, Julian, Der philosophische und religiöse Subjektivismus al-Ghaza¯lı¯s, Wilhelm Brauchmüller Universitäts-Verlagsbuchhandlung, Wien/Leipzig 1921. Öztürk, Yas¸ar Nuri, Rumi und die islamische Mystik – Über das Menschenbild im Islam, übers. v. Nevfel Cumart, Grupello, Düsseldorf 2002. Ritter, Helmut (al-G˙aza¯lı¯), Das Elixier der Glückseligkeit, übers. v. Helmut Ritter, Eugen Diederichs, München 61996. Schimmel, Annemarie, Die Zeichen Gottes – Die religiöse Welt des Islam, C. H. Beck, München 32002. Dies., Rumi – Ich bin Wind und du bist Feuer – Leben und Werk des großen Mystikers, Heinrich Hugendubel, Kreuzlingen/München 2003. Schweizer, Gerhard, Die Derwische – Heilige und Ketzer des Islam, Das Bergland-Buch, Salzburg 21984. Sherif, Mohamed Ahmed, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, State University of New York Press, New York 1975. TDV, Islam Ansiklopedisi, Divantas¸ – ˙ISAM, Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı I˙slam Aras¸tırmaları Merkezi, Ankara 2002. Tha¯hanvı¯, Muhammad ʿAlı¯, A Dictionary of the Technical Terms Used in the Sciences of the ˙ Mussalmans, Part II, Suhail Academy Lahore, Lahore/Pakistan 1993. Umaruddı¯n, Mohammad, The Ethical Philosophy of al-Ghazzali, Publisher Malik Faiz Bukhsh, Combine Printers, Lahore/Pakistan 21988. Underhill, Evelyn, Mystik – Eine Studie über die Natur und Entwicklung des religiösen Bewusstseins im Menschen, Ernst Reinhardt, München 1928.

Silvia Horsch

Die Universität als Ort des Dialogs zwischen Religion, Wissenschaft und Gesellschaft

Wie der Untertitel dieser Publikation „Perspektiven für eine Islamische Theologie in Deutschland“ zeigt, sind al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Leben und Werk bis heute eine Quelle der Inspiration, von der Muslime Impulse für den Umgang mit gegenwärtigen Herausforderungen erwarten. Es soll hier deshalb der Frage der Bedeutung alG˙aza¯lı¯s für die Gegenwart nachgegangen werden, wobei die Rolle der universitären Verortung von islamischen Studien im Vordergrund steht. Nach einer kurzen Darstellung der Ausgangslage, die zunächst die begrenzte Vergleichbarkeit der historischen und der gegenwärtigen Situation ins Bewusstsein ruft, werden die jeweiligen politischen und gesellschaftlichen Erwartungen angesprochen, die mit einer Institutionalisierung islamischer Studien verbunden sind. Zwei kürzere Abschnitte zum Schluss widmen sich der Frage nach dem Nutzen für die Religionsgemeinschaft und der Bedeutung des interdisziplinären Dialogs für eine „Erneuerung“ des Islams.

1.

Ausgangssituation

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ war als universitärer Lehrer in seiner Zeit an der Niza¯mı¯ya (484/1091– ˙ 488/1095) in einer privilegierten Situation: Die religiösen Wissenschaften hatten an den Universitäten, die selbst religiöse Einrichtungen waren, unangefochtene Bedeutung. Sie wurden zugleich von der Regierung protegiert und von weiten Teilen der Gesellschaft honoriert, was nicht zuletzt die großen Studentenzahlen zeigen, von denen al-G˙aza¯lı¯ berichtet.1 Zur Zeit der Seldschuken wurden zahlreiche Hochschulen als Stiftungen eingerichtet (waqf), so von seldschukischen Herrschern, ihren Wesiren und anderen. Niza¯m al-Mulk (408/1018–485/1092), ˙ der Wesir der Seldschuken-Sultane Alp Arslan und Malik Sˇa¯h, ist der Initiator 1 Wie er in seiner Autobiographie schreibt, hatte er etwa 300 Studenten zu unterrichten, alG˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, in: Farid Jabre (Hg. und Übers.), Erreur et Déliverance. ¯ ˙ Traduction francaise avec ˙introduction et notes, Beirut 1959, S. 18.

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einer Entwicklung der Madrasa zu vorher nicht gekannter Bedeutung.2 Er veranlasste die Einrichtung einer Anzahl von Hochschulen, die seinen Namen ˇ utrugen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ war zuerst Student an der Niza¯mı¯ya in Nisˇa¯pu¯r unter al-G ˙ waynı¯ und dann Professor an der Niza¯mı¯ya in Bagdad, der berühmtesten dieser ˙ Hochschulen. In dieser Position gehörte er zu den einflussreichsten Persönlichkeiten Bagdads. Im Europa der Moderne sieht die Lage gänzlich anders aus, in besonderem Maße für die muslimische Religionsgemeinschaft, die sich in der Situation einer noch „neueingessenen“ Minderheit befindet, aber auch für die christlichen Religionsgemeinschaften. Zwar gehen die Ursprünge der Universität vielerorts auf mittelalterliche Kloster- und Domschulen zurück, doch allein aus der Geschichte lässt sich der Verbleib der Theologie im Fächerkanon der Universität heute nicht mehr rechtfertigen.3 Hierauf verweist z. B. Elisabeth Gräb-Schmidt: Die Frage nach der Bedeutung der Theologie hänge zusammen mit der Frage nach der Bedeutung von Religion, die sich in der Moderne fundamental gewandelt habe: „Religion wird nicht im Zentrum des gesellschaftlichen Bewusstseins wahrgenommen […] als dasjenige, was zur Gestaltungskraft von Gesellschaft hinzugehört“, sondern eher als „Fremdkörper, allenfalls als schmückendes und oft eher als störendes Beiwerk […] auf das man verzichten kann.“4 Zu dem skeptischen Blick auf die gesellschaftliche Bedeutung von Religion kommt der Vorwurf der fehlenden Rationalität. Während in den modernen Naturwissenschaften der Gottesfrage ohnehin keine Bedeutung zukommt, wird sie in den Geisteswissenschaften weitestgehend ausgeklammert. Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde hat dieses Phänomen, das er als „virtuellen Atheismus“ bezeichnet, für die Politikwissenschaften beschrieben: Zur Wissenschaftlichkeit des 19. und beginnenden 20. Jahrhunderts gehörte es, „die Gottesfrage und damit jedes religiös-theologische Argument, weil wissenschaftlich nicht beweisbar, aus dem Spiel zu lassen.“ Wenn allerdings – eben weil sie wissenschaftlich weder bewiesen noch widerlegt werden kann – die Gottesfrage tatsächlich offengelassen werde (und es nicht gleich zu einer kaum verhüllten atheistischen Positionsnahme kommt), könne sie gerade nicht einfach unberücksichtigt bleiben: „Denn wenn Gott existiert, wenn eine göttliche Offenbarung geschehen ist, wenn theologische Aussagen Wahrheitsgehalt haben, ist das im Hinblick auf Aufgabenstellung und Erkenntnisgegenstand politischer Wissenschaften […] von weitragender Be2 Zur Madrasa vor der Niza¯mı¯ya vgl. Lambton, „The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire“, in: Boyle, J. A. (Hg.), The Cambridge History of Iran: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, Cambridge 1968, S. 203–282, S. 215. 3 Gräb-Schmidt, „Das Verhältnis von Religion, Theologie und Kultur“, in: Alkier, S./ Heimbrock, H.-G. (Hg.), Ev. Theologie an Staatlichen Universitäten. Konzepte und Konstellationen Evangelischer Theologie und Religionsforschung, Göttingen 2011, S. 135–153, S. 136. 4 Ebd. S. 135f.

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deutung.“ Das was über Verstandeserkenntnis hinausgeht, werde jedoch zunächst methodisch, in der Konsequenz dann aber auch sachlich ausgeschlossen.5 Theologie als Wissenschaft, die sich einem rational nicht begründbaren Gegenstand widmet, hat vor diesem Hintergrund keinen leichten Stand, wenn es darum geht, ihre Berechtigung an der Universität zu begründen – auch wenn sich nach den Kulturkämpfen des 19. Jahrhunderts die Auffassung durchgesetzt hatte, dass christliche Theologie ihren Ort an der Universität haben soll und eine Bestandsgarantie für die theologischen Fakultäten gegeben wurde, die auch in der Bundesrepublik bestehen blieb.6 Diese für die Theologie schwierige Situation hat sich spätestens seit der Jahrtausendwende geändert, als die Rede von der „Rückkehr der Religionen“ Legion geworden ist – eine Phrase, die sich weniger aus einer zwischenzeitlichen Abwesenheit der Religionen, denn aus der Überraschung der Säkularisierungstheoretiker erklärt, deren Prognosen nicht eintrafen. In der neuen Situation ergibt sich eine neue Bedeutung für Theologie und religiöse Wissenschaften.

2.

Politische und gesellschaftliche Erwartungen

Für die evangelische Theologie sieht Gräb-Schmidt die Aufgabe darin, „die nicht mehr zu vernachlässigende postsäkulare Präsenz religiöser Phänomene in der Gesellschaft zu berücksichtigen […] und sie gegebenenfalls zu erklären“7 und weniger um die Frage der Kompatibilität von Religion mit der säkularen Gesellschaft – also die Frage der Säkularisierung. Für das neue Fach der Religion des Islams sieht die Lage noch etwas anders aus. Aus der Sicht der Politik und größeren Teilen der Gesellschaft ist genau die für die christlichen Theologien weitgehend abgehakte (wenn auch eigentlich nicht erledigte) Frage von großer Relevanz: die Frage der Kompatibilität von Religion und säkularer Gesellschaft. Bekanntlich werden von der Politik große Erwartungen an die Einrichtung der neuen islamischen Lehrstühle geknüpft: Die zwischen 2005 und 2013 als Ministerin für Bildung und Forschung amtierende Annette Schavan ist der Meinung, die Einrichtung islamischer Studien an deutschen Hochschulen eröffne nicht nur „die Chance zu einer historisch-kri5 Böckenförde, „Politische Theorie und politische Theologie“, in: E.-W. Böckenförde, Kirche und christlicher Glaube in den Herausforderungen der Zeit, Berlin 22007, S. 317–330, S. 317f. 6 Vgl. die Ausführungen des Wissenschaftsrates zum „Ort der Theologien im gegenwärtigen Hochschulsystem“, Wissenschaftsrat, Empfehlungen zur Weiterentwicklung von Theologien und religionsbezogenen Wissenschaften an deutschen Hochschulen, Berlin 29. 01. 2010, URL: http://www.wissenschaftsrat.de/download/archiv/9678-10.pdf (letzter Zugriff: 25. 11. 2011), S. 56. 7 Gräb-Schmidt, „Das Verhältnis von Religion, Theologie und Kultur“, S. 138.

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tischen Methode im Umgang mit dem Koran […], sondern sie ist auch Teil einer zeitgemäßen und überzeugenden Integrationspolitik […].“8 Der Umstand, dass historisch-kritische Methode und Integration im selben Satz erwähnt werden, legt eine gewünschte Richtung der Integration nahe: Der Islam wird integriert durch „Christianisierung“, indem auf den Koran die gleichen Methoden angewandt werden wie auf die Bibel – wobei im Hintergrund wohl die Erwartung steht, dass am Ende auch das gleiche Ergebnis herauskommt.9 Auf diese Weise erledigten sich dann auch die vermeintlichen Probleme der Muslime mit der säkularen Gesellschaft. Dies ist in kritischer Absicht überspitzt formuliert, die Verbindung von Institutionalisierung islamischer Lehrstühle und Integration wird jedoch häufig diskursiv hergestellt, wobei Integration von Anpassung nicht hinreichend unterschieden wird. Wenn etwa im Zusammenhang mit der Einrichtung islamischer Lehrstühle von einem „legitimen Zähmungsinteresse“10 des Staates gesprochen wird, erscheint diese als Teil einer zivilisatorischen Mission, in der Musliminnen und Muslime „durch den Prozess ihrer Unterwerfung an bestimmte Regeln und Normen […] in adäquate deutsche Staatsbürgerinnen und Staatsbürger verwandelt werden“.11 Aus einer solchen Erwartungshaltung ergibt sich eine interessante Parallele zur Situation al-G˙aza¯lı¯s: Die Entwicklung der Madrasa im Sinne Niza¯m al-Mulks ˙ hatte eine politisch-gesellschaftliche Zielsetzung und war Teil einer Kulturpolitik. 8 Schavan, „Islamische Studiengänge in Deutschland“, in: Politik und Kultur (2011) 1–2, S. 12. 9 Der Begriff „Islamische Theologie“ kann eine solche Erwartungshaltung nähren, denn er ist eine offensichtliche Anlehnung an die evangelischen und katholischen Pendants. Die Verwendung des Begriffes „Theologie“ ist auch eine Folge der Empfehlungen des Wissenschaftsrates: Aus „pragmatischen Gründen“ wird ein weitgefasster Begriff von Theologie „i. S. eines Arbeitsbegriffs in wissenschaftspolitischer Absicht“ verwendet. Zugleich wird aber auch auf die Problematik des Begriffs im Hinblick auf Islam und Judentum hingewiesen und parallel der Begriff „Islamische Studien“ gebraucht. Wissenschaftsrat, Empfehlungen, S. 51f. Gegenwärtig scheint sich der Begriff der „Islamischen Theologie“ u. a. aus Gründen der Abgrenzung gegenüber der Islamwissenschaft weitgehend durchgesetzt zu haben. Die Problematik der „Theologisierung des Islams“ (vgl. Bauer, Die Kultur der Ambiguität. Eine andere Geschichte des Islams, Berlin 2011, S. 136ff.) wird dadurch jedoch verschärft und müsste intensiver diskutiert werden. 10 So formulierte es Christian Walter, Professor für Öffentliches Recht an der Universität Münster, siehe Seker, „Religion darf nicht als Integrationsproblem betrachtet werden“, Qantara, 09. 08. 2011, URL: http://de.qantara.de/Religion-darf-nicht-als-Integrationspro blem-betrachtet-werden/16892c17157i1p417/index.html (letzter Zugriff: 19. 01. 2012), o.S. 11 Dies schreibt Amir-Moazami im Hinblick auf die Deutsche Islam Konferenz (DIK) („Die Produktion des Tolerierbaren. Toleranz und ihre Grenzen im Kontext der Regulierung von Islam und Geschlecht in Deutschland“, in: Gabriele Dietze/Claudia Brunner/Edith Wenzel (Hg.), Kritik des Okzidentalismus. Transdisziplinäre Beiträge zu (Neo-)Orientalismus und Geschlecht, Bielefeld 2009, S. 156). Sie sieht generell eine „starke Verflechtung des Integrationsdiskurses mit der Kategorisierung von MuslimInnen als defizitär“, welche die Rhetorik der DIK kennzeichnet, in der Religionsunterricht und Imamausbildung zentrale Themen darstellen (ebd., S. 157).

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Der Wesir versprach sich davon zum einen durch die gemeinsame Ausbildung eine Integration der stärker persisch geprägten Beamten des Staatsapparates und der Klasse der ʿulama¯ʾ und erreichte damit im Vergleich zu früheren Zeiten tatsächlich einen hohen Grad der Integration der alten persischen und der islamischen Tradition.12 Darüber hinaus versprach sich der Wesir von der Förderung der Sunna in Form der asˇʿarı¯tischen Theologie und des sˇa¯fiʿı¯tischen fiqh eine „imposition of a new orthodoxy“.13 Diese wurde als Mittel zur Stärkung der politischen und gesellschaftlichen Einheit angesehen. Das Gegenüber, gegen das diese Orthodoxie gerichtet war, war die Schia, als Abgrenzung zum einen gegenüber den Vorgängern der Seldschuken, den schiitischen Buyı¯den, und zum anderen gegenüber den isma¯ʿı¯litischen Fa¯timiden, die in Ägypten herrschten ˙ und nicht nur eine militärische, sondern durch ihre Missionstätigkeit auch eine dogmatische Bedrohung darstellten. Die Bedeutung und Funktion von Religion in einem modernen säkularen Staat, noch dazu die einer Minderheit, ist naturgemäß anders, als die der Mehrheitsreligion und zugleich Religion der Herrschenden im islamischen Reich unter den Seldschuken. Niza¯m al-Mulk sah eine enge Verbindung zwischen der ˙ richtigen Religion und der Stabilität des Reiches. In seinem in der Tradition der persischen Fürstenspiegel stehenden Werk „Buch der Regierung“, schrieb er, dass sich Störungen in religiösen Angelegenheiten negativ auf das Königreich und umgekehrt Chaos in der Regierung sich negativ auf die Religion auswirke.14 Die Rolle der Religion und der religiösen Gelehrten beschrieb er folgendermaßen: „Es ist für den König verpflichtend, über religiöse Angelegenheiten Erkundigungen einzuziehen, er muss vertraut sein mit den göttlichen Geboten und Verboten, sie in die Praxis umsetzen und den Befehlen Gottes gehorchen. Es ist seine Pflicht, die religiösen Gelehrten zu respektieren und ihre Gehälter aus der Staatskasse zu bezahlen.“15 Von einer solchen Position können heutige Theologinnen und Theologen, deren staatstragende Funktion sich weitgehend auf die Teilnahme an Rundfunkräten und Ethikkommissionen beschränkt, natürlich nur träumen – ob es sich dabei um einen Traum oder einen Alptraum handelt, ist 12 Vgl. Lambton, „The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire“, S. 215. Das tatsächliche Ausmaß dieser Integration wird jedoch in der neueren Forschung erheblich geringer eingeschätzt, vgl. Berkey, „Madrasas Medieval and Modern“, in: Robert W. Hefner/Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Schooling Islam. The Culture and Politics of Modern Muslim Education, Princeton 2007, S. 40– 60, S. 44f. Berkey sieht allgemein nur einen geringen politischen Einfluss auf die Madrasas: „The establishment of madrasas served the political interest of those who founded them, both individually and collectively, but the institutions themselves, and the academic activities they supported, were not subjected to systemic governmental regulation and control, and did not undergird any particular political program.“ ebd., S. 45. 13 Ormsby, Ghazali. The Revival of Islam. (Makers of the Muslim World), Oxford 2007, S. 6. 14 Lambton, „The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire“, S. 211. 15 Aus dem Englischen nach Orsmby, Ghazali, S. 31.

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eine andere Frage. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Nähe zum Staat in seiner Zeit vor und an der Niza¯mı¯ya war zudem besonders ausgeprägt: Er verbrachte bekanntlich einige ˙ Zeit am Hof Niza¯m al-Mulks und war unter anderem bei der Einsetzung des ˙ Kalifen al-Mustazhir (483/1092) anwesend, was seine privilegierte und damit ˙ auch einflussreiche Position illustriert. Nach seiner mystischen Wende hat er sich jedoch in dieser Hinsicht selbst kritisiert, wie die zahlreichen Prophetenworte, Aussprüche von Gelehrten und Anekdoten deutlich machen, mit denen al-G˙aza¯lı¯ im Buch des Wissens in Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n die Gelehrten vor einer Bindung an die ˙ Herrschenden warnt. Ein Beispiel ist ein Ausspruch al-Auza¯ʿı¯s: „Nichts ist Alla¯h verhasster als ein Gelehrter, der Umgang mit einem Gouverneur pflegt.“16 In beiden Fällen gibt es jedenfalls eine Erwartungshaltung der Politik. AlG˙aza¯lı¯, der selbst Asˇʿarı¯t und Sˇa¯fiʿı¯t war, kam das Ziel der Stärkung der sunnitischen Orthodoxie entgegen. Wie er seine persönlichen Absichten und die der Regierung vereinbarte, zeigt seine Streitschrift gegen die Ba¯tinı¯ya (als welche die ˙ Isma¯ʿı¯liya auch bezeichnet wurde). Sie war eine Auftragsarbeit des Kalifen alMustazhir, al-G˙aza¯lı¯ beschreibt sie jedoch in seiner intellektuellen Autobiogra˙ phie zugleich als persönliches Anliegen: „Der Umstand, dass ich diesen Auftrag nicht zurückweisen konnte, war ein äußeres Motiv, das sich mit meinem ursprünglichen inneren Impuls vereinigte.“17 Die theologische Auseinandersetzung mit der Ba¯tinı¯ya steht im Kontext der militärischen Auseinandersetzung mit den ˙ Isma¯ʿı¯liten. Durch die Aktivitäten von Hasan as-Sabba¯h wurde die Niza¯rı¯ya, eine ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Abspaltung der Fa¯timiden, zu einer ernstzunehmenden Bedrohung für die seld˙ schukische Regierung, die schließlich auch zu einer militärischen Konfrontation führte. 483/1090 errang Hasan die Festung Alamu¯t, deren Besetzung der Anfang ˙ einer persisch-ismâ’ı¯lîtischen Revolte gegen die Seldschuken war. Niza¯m al-Mulk ˙ wurde schließlich von einem Anhänger Hasans ermordet. ˙ Man könnte jetzt, wie es häufig gemacht wurde, eine Parallele von den Assassinen zu den Anschlägen vom 11. September 2001 ziehen und sich vor diesem Hintergrund fragen, in welchem Zusammenhang die Einrichtung islamischer Lehrstühle in Deutschland mit dem Kampf gegen den Terror steht. Nun ist allerdings zum einen der nach dem 11. September oft gezogene Vergleich zwischen modernen islamistischen Terroristen und einer isma¯ʿı¯litischen Sekte des 11. Jahrhunderts in keiner Weise erhellend,18 und zum anderen der Zusammenhang etwas komplexer. Richtig ist, dass die Rede von der „Rückkehr der Religionen“, die dazu beigetragen hat, Religionen wieder mehr Aufmerksamkeit zu schenken und die auch 16 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, 2 Bde., Bd. I, Kairo 2004, S. 84. ˙ 17 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, S. 28. ¯ ˙ ˙ 18 Siehe dazu die Kritik von Kermani, Dynamit des Geistes, Islam und Nihilismus, Göttingen 2002, S. 39ff.

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im Hintergrund einer solchen Entwicklung wie den Empfehlungen des Wissenschaftsrates im Jahr 2010 steht,19 vor allem verbunden ist mit Phänomenen von Gewalt, die unter anderem religiös begründet wird.20 Die Anschläge des 11. Septembers gelten als das Signum einer ganzen Epoche und haben die Wahrnehmung des Islams, aber auch der Religion insgesamt geprägt. Es geht um Religion vor allem als öffentlich sichtbare und politisch wirksame, potentiell gewalttätige und damit zerstörerische Kraft. Große Bereiche dessen, was Religion ausmacht, drohen vernachlässigt zu werden. Islamischer Religionsunterricht wird nicht nur als Mittel der Integration, sondern auch als Vorbeugung gegen Extremismus gedacht. In der Empfehlung des Wissenschaftsrates findet sich dieser Gedanke auch, hier allerdings bezogen auf alle Religionen: Mit der Einrichtung von theologischen Fakultäten innerhalb des staatlichen Hochschulsystems „beugen Staat und Gesellschaft auch Tendenzen zur Vereinseitigung und Fundamentalisierung von religiösen Standpunkten vor.“21 Gleichzeitig werden Religionen nicht nur als ein zu zähmendes, sondern auch als potentiell produktiv für die Stabilität und die Entwicklung der Gesellschaft wahrgenommen.22 Mit der Einrichtung islamischer Lehrstühle wird der Islam gewissermaßen in die Runde der potentiell staatstragenden Religionen aufgenommen, die im Sinne des Böckenförde-Diktums dazu beitragen können, die Voraussetzungen zu bewahren, die der freiheitliche säkularisierte Staat nicht garantieren kann – mit der „Auflage“ zur vorbeugenden Fundamentalismusabwehr, die im Falle des Islams sicherlich eindeutiger formuliert wird, als bei den christlichen Konfessionen.23 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat offenbar bezüglich der Erwartungshaltung des Staates zumindest inhaltlich keine Diskrepanz empfunden, wie das erwähnte Beispiel der Auseinandersetzung mit der Ba¯tinı¯ya zeigt. Für ihn stellte sich ein anderes ˙ Problem. Die exponierte öffentliche Stellung und der damit verbundene Ruhm bergen die Gefahr: „Ich untersuchte meine Absichten in meiner Tätigkeit des Unterrichtens und fand, dass es sich nicht um die reine Absicht für die Sache 19 Die Darstellung der Ausgangslage in der Empfehlung des Wissenschaftsrates beginnt mit der Feststellung, dass in den letzten Jahren immer häufiger die Rede von der „Rückkehr der Religion“ oder der „Wiederkehr der Götter“ sei. Wissenschaftsrat, Empfehlungen, S. 9. 20 Ich vermeide den häufig verwendeten Begriff „religiös motivierte Gewalt“, der eine unzulässige Verkürzung darstellt. 21 Wissenschaftsrat, Empfehlungen, S. 57. 22 „Der moderne demokratische Rechtsstaat hat daher ein vitales Interesse daran, religiöse Orientierungen seiner Bürger und Bürgerinnen für die Stabilität und Weiterentwicklung des Gemeinwesens fruchtbar zu machen.“ Ebd., S. 56. 23 Diese Aufgabe von (protestantischer) Theologie sieht aber auch z. B. Gräb-Schmidt, wenn sie schreibt: „Religion bleibt ein unhintergehbarer Kulturfaktor. Soll er in seinen produktiv bildenden und gestaltenden Formationen der Kultur Geltung erlangen und nicht in seiner zerstörenden und verneinenden Macht, dann muss gerade Religion kritisch konstruktiv begleitet werden. Dies unternimmt die Theologie […]“. Gräb-Schmidt, „Das Verhältnis von Religion, Theologie und Kultur“, S. 138, FN 6.

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Gottes handelte, sondern dass die Motivation und der Antrieb, der mich bewegte, der Wunsch nach Ruhm und Verbreitung des Ansehens war.“24 Diese Einschätzung war die Folge seiner Auseinandersetzung mit der Mystik, die er sich, wie er schreibt, zunächst intellektuell anzueignen versuchte und dann feststellte, dass dies ohne die Erfahrung, „das Schmecken“ (dauq), nicht möglich sei. ¯

3.

Der Nutzen religiöser Wissenschaften für die Glaubensgemeinschaft

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Krise, die bekanntlich auf diese Einsicht folgte, markiert zugleich die Grenze dessen, was an der Universität möglich ist: Spiritualität kann nicht gelehrt, sie kann nur erfahren werden, und dafür ist die Universität nicht der Ort. Diese Feststellung verweist zugleich auf den zweiten Ort, in dem der Islam verankert sein muss: die Moschee. Dieser Ort muss seinerseits mit der Universität verbunden sein, weil nur durch diese Rückbindung an die Religionsgemeinschaft Lehrstühle oder Fakultäten für islamische Religion ihre Legitimität erhalten. Damit ist der dritte Punkt, die Frage nach dem Nutzen der islamischen Wissenschaften für die Gläubigen angesprochen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat sich bekanntlich später sehr kritisch zum Nutzen der Disziplinen geäußert, mit denen er sich in der Zeit vor und an der Niza¯mı¯ya beschäftigt hat. Im Buch des Wissens, dem ersten Buch von Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, nimmt er Eingrenzungen dessen vor, was er ˙ für lobenswert hält, von den „lobenswerten Wissenschaften“ zu erlernen. Zu diesen zählt er Koran, Hadith, fiqh und kala¯m. Insbesondere gegenüber dem kala¯m und den Kontroversen, die in diesem Feld ausgetragen werden, ist er zurückhaltend. Er rät dem Leser, sich aus diesen Kontroversen herauszuhalten und sagt: „Nimm diesen Ratschlag von einem an, der eine Zeit lang sein Leben darin verschwendet hat.“25 Für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ steht der praktische Nutzen des Wissens im Vordergrund und dies ist auch das, was sein Hauptwerk, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, ˙ auszeichnet. Dieses Werk hat al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in seiner Phase des Rückzugs von der öffentlichen Lehre geschrieben, und man kann wohl sagen, dass es den nachhaltigsten Eindruck bei den Muslimen hinterlassen hat. Doch auch, wenn sich al-G˙aza¯lı¯ äußerlich von der Universität abgewandt hat – die Hinwendung zur Mystik war bei ihm nicht, wie man aufgrund einiger seiner Aussagen denken könnte, eine Abwendung von der intellektuellen Auseinandersetzung mit dem Islam. Wie Ormsby schreibt: „The works of Ghazali’s busy ‘public’ decade, whether in theology, logic, or philosophy, form the foundation on which his later mystical 24 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, S. 36. ¯ 25 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯˙n, ˙Bd. I, S. 53. ˙

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thought firmly rests.“26 Die intensive Auseinandersetzung sowohl mit den islamischen Wissenschaftszweigen, wie fiqh und kala¯m, ebenso wie die mit Disziplinen, die er als (zumindest teilweise) problematisch ansah, wie der Philosophie, ist die Grundlage für die Syntheseleistung, die al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit diesem Werk gelang. Er war nicht mehr an der Universität, trug aber gewissermaßen die Universität in sich. Und schließlich kehrte al-G˙aza¯lı¯ auch an die Universität zurück. Die Rückkehr erfolgte laut seiner Autobiographie in dem Bewusstsein, der Erneuerer des Islams für sein Jahrhundert zu sein.27 Den Ort für diese Erneuerung sah er offenbar nicht in der Klause, sondern an der Universität. Sein erneuter Rückzug wenige Jahre später lässt allerdings die Frage offen, ob sich diese Einschätzung aus seiner Sicht als richtig erwiesen hat.

4.

Interdisziplinärer Dialog und die „Erneuerung“ des Islams

Die besondere Möglichkeit, welche die Universität der Religion wie kein anderer Ort bietet, ist der Austausch mit anderen wissenschaftlichen Disziplinen. Zu alG˙aza¯lı¯s Zeit umfasste der Lehrplan an der Niza¯mı¯ya die Disziplinen Koran, ˙ Hadith, usu¯l l-fiqh (sˇa¯fiʿı¯tisch) Arabisch, adab, Mathematik und Erbrecht 28 (fara¯’id). Mathematik und Literatur stechen als nicht-religiöse Wissenschaften ˙ aus dem Fächerkanon heraus. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat jedoch seinen Horizont nicht auf diese Fächer beschränkt. Seine Auseinandersetzung mit der Philosophie konnte damals nicht im Austausch mit Kollegen von der philosophischen Fakultät stattfinden, sondern vollzog sich als Selbststudium der Bücher.29 Trotz aller Absicht, die Philosophen in bestimmten Punkten zu widerlegen und anderen zu kritisieren, ist sein Umgang mit der Philosophie insofern dialogisch, als er diese Tradition ernst nimmt: „Ich erkannte“, schreibt er, „dass die Zurückweisung einer Lehre ohne sie verstanden zu haben und ohne mit ihren Grundlagen vertraut zu sein, der Schuss eines Blinden ist.“30 Die intellektuelle Offenheit und die Bereitschaft, die Diskurse der Zeit nicht nur wahrzunehmen, sondern tief in sie einzusteigen, ist der Grund dafür, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit Maqa¯sid al-fala¯sifa in Europa zunächst als Philosoph bekannt wurde.31 In dieser Eigenschaft liegt vielleicht die wichtigste Inspiration für die Muslime heute. Montgomery Watt schrieb in seiner Einleitung zu seiner Übersetzung der 26 27 28 29 30 31

Ormsby, Ghazali, S. 33. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, S. 49. ¯ ˙ ˙ of the Saljuq Empire“, S. 216. Lambton, „The Internal Structure Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, S. 18. ¯ ˙ ˙ Ebd. Auch über die Ba¯tinı¯ya verfasste er ein Werk, das deren Lehren so systematisch darlegte, dass ihm vorgeworfen wurde, er hätte der Ba¯tinı¯ya in die Hände gearbeitet. Ebd., S. 28.

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Autobiographie al-G˙aza¯lı¯s: „[…] perhaps the greatest thing about al-Ghazali was his personality, and it may yet again be a source of inspiration. Islam is now wrestling with western thought as it once wrestled with Greek philosophy, and is much in a need as it was then of a ‘revival of the religious sciences’. Deep study of al-Ghazali may suggest to Muslims steps to be taken if they are to deal successfully with the contemporary situation.“32 Watt schrieb dies vor fast 60 Jahren und auch wenn dazwischen eine lange Phase der Auseinandersetzung mit westlichem Denken liegt, hat sich an dieser Situation nichts Grundlegendes geändert. Zur Verteidigung der Muslime der Gegenwart muss man jedoch den Umstand festhalten, dass die alten Griechen die islamische Welt nicht unterworfen und kolonisiert hatten. Die Auseinandersetzung mit der griechischen Philosophie war eine rein intellektuelle – eine Beziehung der Macht war nicht involviert. Das westliche Denken der Moderne, das Montgomery anspricht, ist aber zugleich das Denken der Eroberer und die Muslime konnten diesem bislang kaum selbstbewusst gegenüber treten. Sie haben den Minderwertigkeitskomplex des kolonialisierten Subjekts noch nicht vollständig abgeworfen und versuchen häufig entweder, den kulturellen Code des überlegenen Gegenübers, bzw. der Mehrheit, zu imitieren oder sich in einer Weise dagegen zu positionieren, die nur ein Spiegelbild sichtbar werden lässt. Thomas Bauer schreibt zu diesem Phänomen: „Die islamische Welt [richtet] seit dem 19. Jahrhundert bis in die Gegenwart unverändert ihren Kaninchenblick starr auf die Schlange der Moderne […] – in dem aussichtslosen Wunsch, selbst zur Schlange zu werden.“33 Das zeigt sich am deutlichsten an den Denkern, die gerade in ihrer Ablehnung der westlichen Moderne mit dem Islamismus einen Diskurs begründen, der sich an den westlichen Ideologien des Nationalismus und Marxismus abarbeitet und dabei selbst zur modernen Ideologie wird. Eine Wiederbelebung des Islams, wenn man dieses große Wort benutzen will, wird erst möglich sein, wenn die Muslime aus dieser defensiven Haltung herausfinden. Eine Voraussetzung dafür ist politische Freiheit und es bleibt zu hoffen, dass mit dem, was wir gegenwärtig als den arabischen Frühling bezeichnen, die ersten Schritte dazu getan werden.34 Für Deutschland heißt dies, dass die Muslime die Bunkermentalität aufgeben müssen, in die sie vielfach aus ihrer Position als Minderheit geraten sind. Das ist in Zeiten steigender Islamfeindlichkeit nicht einfach, aber die Einrichtung von Lehrstühlen für islamische Religion bietet eine große Chance für Schritte in die richtige Richtung.

32 Watt, Al Ghazali: Deliverance from Error and the Beginning of Guidance, Kuala Lumpur 2008, S. xiv. 33 Bauer, Die Kultur der Ambiguität, S. 113. 34 Diese Hoffnung hat sich in der Zeit bis zur Drucklegung dieses Bandes allerdings wieder verflüchtigt.

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Zentral erscheint mir die Wiedergewinnung des weitgehend abgeschnittenen Zugangs zur eigenen Tradition. Thomas Bauer hat die klassischen islamischen Wissenschaften als Ausdruck einer „Kultur der Ambiguität“ beschrieben, in der verschiedene Deutungen nebeneinander bestehen konnten. Gerade die Interpretation des Korans, in der man sich bemühte, das gesamte Interpretationsspektrum eines Verses zu erfassen und sich nicht auf eine einzige richtige Deutung festlegte, kann als Paradebeispiel für eine (Wissenschafts-)kultur angesehen werden, die anerkennt, das „Vieldeutigkeit eine notwendige […] Eigenschaft von Sprache und Welt ist.“35 Die Modernisierung der islamischen Kulturen erwies sich hingegen als ein Prozess der Vernichtung von Ambiguität. Durch eine militärische und wirtschaftlich überlegene Macht „konfrontiert mit Wahrheitsansprüchen, die nach theologischen und philosophischen Mustern formuliert waren und denen man nicht anders als mit theologischen und philosophischen Argumentationsmustern entgegentreten konnte“,36 begannen sie ebenfalls nach der einen gültigen Position zu suchen. Nach dieser bedenkenswerten These führen „Fundamentalisten und Reformer im Zeichen der westlichen Episteme einen Kampf gegen die eigene Kultur“.37 Dies führt zu der Frage, ob nicht der allgegenwärtige Ruf nach einer „Reform“ des Islams oder nach der Entwicklung eines „modernen“ Islams nicht ebenso dem Denken der westlichen Moderne verhaftet bleibt. Während im wissenschaftlichen Diskurs des Westens die Postmoderne die Moderne längst abgelöst hat, streben Muslime immer noch danach, in der Moderne anzukommen.38 Die Bedeutung von Reform im islamischen Verständnis ist zudem eine andere als im europäischen, in dem Reform auf eine grundlegende Umgestaltung zielt. Der Begriff der „Wiederbelebung“ (ihya¯ʿ), wie auch die benachbarten Begriffe tagˇdı¯d ˙ („Erneuerung“) und isla¯h („Wiederherstellung“, „Verbesserung“) 39 beinhalten ˙ ˙ in viel stärkerem Maße das Anliegen der Bewahrung religiöser Grundlagen. Auf dem Weg zur Entwicklung zeitgemäßer muslimischer Positionen müssen die Reduktionen, welche die Moderne mit sich gebracht hat, erst einmal überwunden werden. Die westliche Islamwissenschaft war an dieser Entwicklung 35 36 37 38

Ebd., S. 33. Ebd., S. 385. Ebd., S. 114. Dies erklärt auch den häufigen Rückgriff auf die Muʿatazila, der eine Möglichkeit bietet, unter Anknüpfung an eine islamische Tradition, eine Form des Islams zu propagieren, die aufgrund ihres rationalen Ansatzes Moderne-kompatibel ist. Übersehen wird dabei, „dass der muʿatazilitische Wahrheitsfanatismus die radikalste und intoleranteste Ausprägung des klassischen Islams darstellt.“ Ebd., S. 385. 39 Isla¯h wird auch mit „Reform“ übersetzt, aber aus dem Bedeutungsspektrum, das auch „Re˙ ˙ novierung“, „Wiederherstellung“, etc. umfasst, wird deutlich, dass es sich hierbei nicht um eine grundlegende Umwälzung handelt.

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nicht unschuldig, ist aber gegenwärtig auch daran beteiligt, die Wahrnehmung des Islams, die diese Reduktionen mit sich gebracht haben, wieder aufzubrechen. Es kann daher nur von Gewinn sein, wenn die Lehrstühle für islamische Religion mit denen der Islamwissenschaft, aber auch anderen Wissenschaften wie der Religionswissenschaft, Anthropologie, Kulturwissenschaft, Soziologie, usw. kooperieren und sich dabei auch den wissenschaftlichen Methoden und Fragestellungen, insbesondere der Postcolonial und Gender Studies, sowie der Diskurstheorie öffnen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ war offen für Methoden und was die Inhalte betraf, war für ihn die Offenbarung das Kriterium der Unterscheidung dessen, was annehmbar ist und was nicht. Dies zeigen seine Urteile über die philosophischen Positionen, welche der Offenbarung widersprachen – wohlgemerkt Urteile über bestimmte Positionen und keines über die Philosophie als solche. Tatsächlich erstreckte sich die Integration von Philosophie und kala¯m nicht nur auf Methoden, sondern auch auf Positionen, wie Frank Griffel nachgewiesen hat.40 Ihm war es damit möglich, „fremden“41 Traditionen selbstbewusst gegenüber zu treten – ohne vorauseilende Abwehr und ohne eilfertige Nachahmung. Dieses Selbstbewusstsein müssen Muslime erst wieder erlangen. Damit ist natürlich nicht gemeint, dass Muslime heute al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Positionen vertreten sollen, welche auf seine Zeit und seinen Kontext bezogen sind. Notwendig ist jedoch ein begründeter Standpunkt, der sich aus einer so unabhängig wie möglichen Auseinandersetzung mit Text und historischem wie diskursivem Kontext entwickeln muss.

Literatur Amir-Moazami, Schirin, „Die Produktion des Tolerierbaren. Toleranz und ihre Grenzen im Kontext der Regulierung von Islam und Geschlecht in Deutschland“, in: Dietze, Gabriele/ Brunner, Claudia/Wenzel, Edith (Hg.), Kritik des Okzidentalismus. Transdisziplinäre Beiträge zu (Neo-)Orientalismus und Geschlecht, Bielefeld 2009. Bauer, Thomas, Die Kultur der Ambiguität. Eine andere Geschichte des Islams, Berlin 2011. Berkey, Jonathan P., „Madrasas Medieval and Modern“, in: Hefner, Robert W./Zaman, Muhammad Qasim, Schooling Islam. The Culture and Politics of Modern Muslim Education, Princeton 2007, S. 40–60.

40 Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press USA, New York 2009. Griffel betont auch den wichtigen Punkt, dass der Umstand, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ drei philosophische Positionen markierte, die nicht integriert werden können (die Lehren zur Anfangslosigkeit der Welt, Gottes Unkenntnis der Partikularia und die körperlose Auferstehung), den theologischen Diskurs für die anderen Positionen öffnete, ebd., S. 7. 41 „Fremd“ nur im Sinne der Herkunft, natürlich war die griechische Philosophie zu al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Zeit bereits ein integraler Bestandteil der islamischen Kultur.

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Böckenförde, Ernst-Wolfgang, „Politische Theorie und politische Theologie (1983)“, in: Böckenförde, E.-W., Kirche und christlicher Glaube in den Herausforderungen der Zeit, LIT Verlag, Berlin 22007, S. 317–330. Böckenförde, Ernst-Wolfgang, Staat, Gesellschaft, Freiheit. Studien zur Staatstheorie und zum Verfassungsrecht, Frankfurt a. M. 1976. al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad b. Muhammad, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m ad-dı¯n, 2 Bde., Kairo 2004. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Ders., Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad b. Muhammad, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l, in: Jabre, Farid ¯ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ (Hg. und Übers.), Erreur et Déliverance. Traduction francaise avec introduction et notes, Beirut 1959. Gräb-Schmidt, Elisabeth, „Das Verhältnis von Religion, Theologie und Kultur: eine systematisch theologische Perspektive“, in: Alkier, S./Heimbrock, H.-G. (Hg.), Ev. Theologie an Staatlichen Universitäten. Konzepte und Konstellationen Evangelischer Theologie und Religionsforschung, Göttingen 2011, S. 135–153. Griffel, Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press USA, New York 2009. Kermani, Navid, Dynamit des Geistes. Martyrium, Islam und Nihilismus, Göttingen 2002. Lambton, A. K., „The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire“, in: Boyle, J. A. (Hg.), The Cambridge History of Iran: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, Cambridge 1968, S. 203–282. Ormsby, Eric, Ghazali. The Revival of Islam. (Makers of the Muslim World), Oxford 2007. Schavan, Annette, „Islamische Studiengänge in Deutschland“, in: Politik und Kultur (2011) 1–2, S. 12. Seker, Nimet, „Religion darf nicht als Integrationsproblem betrachtet werden“, Qantara, 09. 08. 2011, URL: http://de.qantara.de/Religion-darf-nicht-als-Integrationsproblem-be trachtet-werden/16892c17157i1p417/index.html (letzter Zugriff: 19. 01. 2012). Watt, Montgomery, Al Ghazali: Deliverance from Error and the Beginning of Guidance, Kuala Lumpur 2008. Wissenschaftsrat, Empfehlungen zur Weiterentwicklung von Theologien und religionsbezogenen Wissenschaften an deutschen Hochschulen, Berlin 29. 01. 2010, URL: http:// www.wissenschaftsrat.de/download/archiv/9678-10.pdf (letzter Zugriff: 25. 11. 2011).

III. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und kala¯m und tasawwuf ˙

Frank Griffel

Al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Umgang mit der wissenschaftlichen Kosmologie seiner Zeit und was man heute daraus lernen könnte

Neun Jahrhunderte trennen uns heute von al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Leben und Schaffen und es scheint zuallererst schwer vorstellbar, dass ein Denker des weit entfernten Mittelalters uns Ratschläge oder Hilfe geben könnte, um mit den unsrigen Problemen umzugehen. Jedoch sind philosophische und theologische Probleme von solcher Art, dass die Zeit sie manchmal nur wenig verändert. Sicher, oft ändert sich die Terminologie, in der Probleme in diesen beiden Disziplinen diskutiert werden. Schon einer der ersten uns bekannten Philosophen, Sokrates nämlich, ging der Frage nach, was sicheres Wissen und was nur Vermutung ist. Sein Tasten in den Anfangsgründen der Epistemologie ist, was die Terminologie angeht, verschieden von heutigen Diskussionen darüber, ob es sich z. B. bei Charles Darwins Evolutionslehre um eine Hypothese, Theorie oder um gesichertes Wissen handelt. Dennoch ist die Grundfrage, die Sokrates sich gestellt hat und die wir uns heute stellen, die gleiche. Es wäre Hochmut zu behaupten, wir wären heute um vieles klüger als Sokrates, oder zumindest als Plato, der uns die Lehren Sokrates’ überliefert hat. Der britische Philosoph und Mathematiker Alfred N. Whitehead hat einmal behauptet, die europäische philosophische Tradition sei nichts anderes als eine Reihe von Fußnoten zu Plato.1 Oft kommt es darauf an, die Sprache, in der frühere Philosophen und Theologen gedacht haben, in die unsrige zu übersetzen, um wirklich zu verstehen, mit welchen Problemen sie sich beschäftigt haben und welche Lösungen sie anstrebten. Eine solche Übersetzung in die Fragestellung unserer Tage mag dann auch deutlich machen, wie ein z. B. seit neun Jahrhunderten verstorbener Denker uns heute in den Aufgaben unserer Zeit zu Hilfe gehen kann. Auf den folgenden Seiten werde ich versuchen, eine Übersetzung von al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Denken über Kosmologie in unsere Zeit zu erstellen. Ich greife dabei auf meine ausführliche Studie über al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Kosmologie zurück, die vielleicht 1 Whitehead, Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, hrsg. v. D. R. Griffin/D. W. Sherburne, New York 1978, S. 39; Whitehead’s Buch geht auf die „Gifford Lectures“ zurück, die er 1927–28 an der University of Edinburgh gehalten hat.

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weiterführend erklären mag, was auf diesen Seiten unklar bleibt.2 In jenem Buch habe ich versucht aufzuzeigen, wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ als ein Denker, der gewissen Prinzipien in der islamischen Theologie verpflichtet ist, auf die Herausforderungen reagiert hat, die ein anderer Denker mit einer wissenschaftlich begründeten Kosmologie gestellt hat. Dieser, al-G˙aza¯lı¯ vorhergehende Denker war der Philosoph Abu¯ ʿAlı¯ Ibn Sı¯na¯, der um etwa 370/980 nahe Bukhara geboren wurde und 428/1037 in Hamadan im Iran starb. Als später im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert viele seiner philosophischen Werke vom Arabischen ins Lateinische übersetzt wurden, wurde er in Europa unter dem Namen Avicenna, also einer latinisierten Form von Ibn Sı¯na¯, bekannt. Avicenna verstand sich wie die meisten seiner Zeitgenossen im Iran zu dieser Zeit als treugläubiger Muslim und als vollwertiges Mitglied der muslimischen Gemeinde (umma). Später wird al-G˙aza¯lı¯ ihm in seinem Buch Die Inkohärenz der Fala¯sifa (Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa) diese vollwertige Mitgliedschaft in der muslimischen Gemeinde absprechen.3 Das allerdings ist eine spätere Entwicklung, die Avicenna nur posthum betroffen hat. Zwar gab es unter den Zeitgenossen Avicennas durchaus Kritik an dessen Religiosität, und der Art, wie er z. B. mit dem Koran umgegangen ist.4 Niemand hat ihm jedoch zu Lebzeiten streitig gemacht, ein muslimischer Gelehrter zu sein. Tatsächlich hat Avicenna wohl eine Ausbildung zum hanafitischen Rechtsgelehrten (faqı¯h) absolviert.5 Er war auch sehr gut über das theologische Denken seiner Zeit, also vor allem über die muʿtazilitische Theologie in den Städten Irans oder über die der Siebener-Schiiten (Ismailiten) informiert. Dennoch war Avicenna nicht wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ an gewisse theologischen Prinzipien gebunden, sondern betrachtete sich als einer dem Erkenntnisgewinn in den Wissenschaften verpflichteter Gelehrter. Avicenna nahm die Methoden wissenschaftlicher Forschung sehr ernst, die er in den Lehrbüchern des Aristoteles exemplarisch manifestiert fand. Auf Basis seiner wissenschaftlichen Forschung, die ihn auch durchaus in Felder führte, die wir heute nicht mehr mit den „exakten“ Wissenschaften verbinden, wie z. B. die Lehre, wie Propheten ihre Offenbarung empfangen, und auch Metaphysik und Theologie – also die Lehre von Gott und seinen Attributen –, hat Avicenna eine rationalistische Deutung des 2 Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, New York 2009, S. 123–286. ˙ aza¯lı¯s Urteil gegen 3 Siehe dazu Griffel, Apostasie und Toleranz im Islam, Die Entwicklung zu al-G die Philosophie und die Reaktionen der Philosophen, Islamic Philosophy, Theology and Science. Texts and Studies (IPTS), Bd. 40, Leiden 2000, S. 266–281. 4 So wurde Avicenna z. B. beschuldigt, den Stil des Korans in einer Predigt (hutba) kopiert zu ˘ ˙ et lexique de haben, siehe Michot, „Le riz trop cuit du Kirmânî Présentation, éditon, traduction L’épître d’Avicenne contestant l’accusation d’avoir pastiché le Coran“, in: Mélanges offerts à Hossam Elkhadem par ses amis et ses éléves, hrsg. v. Frank Daelemans et al., Brüssel 2007, S. 81– 129. 5 Gutas, „Avicenna’s madhab With an Appendix on the Question of His Date of Birth“, in: ¯ Quaderni di Studia Arabi (Venedig), 5–6 (1987–88), S. 323–336.

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Islam geschaffen. Er hat, so würde man heute sagen, einen Islam auf wissenschaftlicher Basis schaffen wollen. Dieser Islam war für die meisten Menschen nichts anderes als das, was sie bisher kannten. Für die Wissenschaftler unter ihnen jedoch, die sich wie Avicenna mit den Prinzipien des Aristoteles verbunden fühlten, gab es eine Reihe von besonderen Lehren, darunter z. B. eine, die das Ereignis göttlicher Offenbarung als durchaus natürlichen Vorgang beschreibt, in dem ein außerordentlich begabter Mensch Inspiration und auch Wissen über die Zukunft von den himmlischen Seelen empfangen kann. Dank seiner besonderen Gabe kann ein solcher Prophet sein Wissen in einen literarisch äußerst hochwertigen und didaktisch wertvollen Text fassen. So kann der Prophet dem einfachen Volk Weisheiten und vor allem Handlungsmaximen vermitteln, die ihnen anderweitig verschlossen bleiben würden und an die sie sich anderweitig nicht halten würden.6 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat sich als einer der einflussreichsten Religionsgelehrten seiner Zeit ausführlich mit der aristotelisch-wissenschaftlichen Deutung des Islam von Avicennas auseinandergesetzt. Mehrmals betont er in seinen Werken, dass man niemandes Lehren pauschal verurteilen soll. Vielmehr soll man sich ausgiebig mit einem Lehrsystem und mit seinen Details und Implikationen vertraut machen, bevor man die Richtigkeit oder die Falschheit dieser Lehren beurteilt. Alles andere sei, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, ein Wurf dahin, wo man nichts sieht,7 oder, wie wir sagen würden: ein Schuss ins Lehre; also ein Aufwand, der sein Ziel vollends verfehlt und keinen Bestand haben wird. In seiner Autobiographie Der Erretter aus dem Irrtum (al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l) beschreibt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sowohl die Vorteile, die ¯ ˙ ˙ man aus den Lehren von Avicenna ziehen kann, wie auch die Nachteile, die sich ergeben, für jene, die sich ihnen gänzlich anschließen. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ behandelt Avicennas Methode unter dem Namen von falsafa, was häufig irreführend mit „Philosophie“ übersetzt wurde und wird. Für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ bezeichnet „falsafa“ (und das abgeleitete Wort „fala¯sifa“ für die Gelehrten, die falsafa betreiben) nicht Philosophie an sich, sondern eine besondere Richtung von Philosophie, nämlich die des Avicenna. Falsafa meint eine ganz bestimmte philosophische Bewegung, den Avicennismus, und wäre damit weniger unserem heutigen Wort „Philosophie“ ähnlich, sondern mehr Worten wie „Kantianismus“ oder „Marxismus“. Der Avicennismus (in al-G˙aza¯lı¯s arabischen Texten also „falsafa“) hat durchaus seine positiven Seiten. Wissenschaftlichkeit führt zu einer großen Anzahl von 6 Griffel, „Muslim Philosophers’ Rationalist Explanation of Muhammad’s Prophecy“, in: The ˙ Cambridge Companion to Muhammad, hrsg. v. Jonathan E. Brockopp, New York 2010, S. 158– 179, hier S. 158–174. 7 Arab. ramı¯ fı¯ ʿama¯ya, al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l / Erreur et deliverance, hrsg. v. Farid ¯ ˙ S. 18, (dt. Übers. Der Erretter aus dem Jabre, Collection d’œuvres representatives, Beirut ˙1969. Irrtum, übers. v. ʿA. ʿA. Elschazlı¯, Philosophische Bibliothek (PhB), Bd. 389, Hamburg 1988, S. 15) und Maqa¯sid al-fala¯sifa, hrsg. v. Muhyı¯ al-Dı¯n Sabrı¯ al-Kurdı¯, Kairo 1936, S. 2. ˙ ˙ ˙

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Vorteilen, weshalb man Avicennas Methode nicht samt und sonders verurteilen darf. Tatsächlich kann es sehr nachteilig sein, Wissenschaftlichkeit einfach abzulehnen, z. B. wenn man aufgrund von religiösen Motivationen verneint, dass eine Sonnenfinsternis dadurch erklärt werden kann, dass sich der Mond zwischen die zwei Gestirne Erde und Sonne schiebt. Wer diese Erklärung ablehnt, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, macht sich in den Augen von echten Wissenschaftlern lächerlich, denn dass es so ist, lässt sich im Feld der mathematischen Astronomie beweisen. Die Erkenntnisse der Wissenschaft abzulehnen ist der beste Weg, dass religiöse Gelehrsamkeit unter den Wissenschaftlern ihre Autorität verliert. Die Religionsgelehrten müssen vielmehr genau unterscheiden was unter den Lehren der Avicennisten korrekt ist und was falsch.8Unter den korrekten Lehren ist zuallererst all jenes, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, was sich seinem Verständnis nach „beweisen“ lässt. Avicenna und al-G˙aza¯lı¯ übernahmen wie viele Gelehrte ihrer Zeit den Begriff des „Beweises“ (arab. burha¯n) von den logischen und wissenschaftstheoretischen Werken Aristoteles’ (dort heißt es griech. apódeixis). Ein Beweis ist dann erbracht, wenn Prämissen, die entweder selbstevident sind oder selbst schon bewiesen wurden, in ein formal korrektes Argument eingesetzt werden (ein sog. Syllogismus), und auf diese Weise zu einer Konklusion führen, die über jeden Zweifel erhaben ist. Aristoteles und Avicenna glaubten, dass solche Beweise in fast allen Wissenschaften erbracht werden können, einschließlich der Metaphysik und der Theologie. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ war etwas kritischer und meinte, dass eine solche lückenlose Beweisführung in der Metaphysik und der Theologie nur sehr selten möglich ist. Vieles von dem, was Avicenna in seiner Metaphysik lehrt und was Teil seiner aristotelisch-rationalistischen Deutung von Islam wurde, ist nicht beweisbar, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, sondern nur Spekulation, die auf unbegründeten Prämissen beruht. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ versuchte die Avicennisten und ihre Sympathisanten in einer sehr scharfsinnigen Kritik in seinem Buch Die Inkoherenz der Fala¯sifa (Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa) von dieser Einschränkung zu überzeugen. Was aber die Naturwissenschaften oder auch die Astronomie angeht, so glaubte auch al-G˙aza¯lı¯, dass in diesen Wissenschaften Beweise möglich sind, und die Erklärung von Sonnenfinsternissen aufgrund der Konfiguration von Erde, Mond und Sonne galt sowohl al-G˙aza¯lı¯ wie auch Avicenna mit geometrischen Beweisen unzweifelhaft belegt. Heute sind wir noch kritischer als al-G˙aza¯lı¯ und die Methode des systematischen Beweises, die eine Lehre jeder möglichen Kritik entzieht, die im selben Denksystem vorgebracht werden kann, gilt heute nur noch in der Mathematik. Die Wissenschaftler in den Naturwissenschaften und vor allem in der Metaphysik und der Theologie suchen heute nicht mehr nach Beweisen, sondern nur noch danach, wie sie ihre Kollegen in diesen Wissensfeldern mit möglichst 8 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid, S. 24; dt. Übers., S. 26. ¯

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schlagkräftigen Argumenten von ihren Positionen und Erklärungen überzeugen können. Die Art der Argumente ist dabei sehr vielfältig und übersteigt bei weitem die grade einmal vierzehn verschiedenen Arten von Argumenten (also die Syllogismen), die in der Wissenschaftstheorie des Aristoteles benutzt werden konnten. Das Kriterium der Beweisbarkeit, das noch zu Zeiten von Avicenna und al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in den Naturwissenschaften galt, ist heute durch jenes der weithin überzeugenden Erklärung ersetzt worden. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sagt ganz deutlich, dass alles, was wirklich bewiesen werden kann, auch von Religionsgelehrten anerkannt werden muss und damit Teil der Lehren des Islam wird. In seiner Regel (qa¯nu¯n) darüber, wann der Text des Korans interpretiert werden muss und nicht im Wortlaut verstanden werden kann, ist alG˙aza¯lı¯ ganz unmissverständlich: Wenn der äußere Wortlaut (za¯hir) der Offen˙ barung einer bewiesenen Lehre widerspricht, so muss er durch allegorische Interpretation (taʾwı¯l) an das Bewiesene angepasst werden.9 Es galt für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ z. B. bewiesen, dass Gott keinen Körper habe könne. Alle Hinweise darauf im Text der Offenbarung – so z. B. wenn dort eine „Hand Gottes“ erwähnt wird – müssen deshalb allegorisch interpretiert werden als Metaphern, die z. B. auf Gottes große Macht hinweisen.10 Neben solch bewiesenen Lehren, die anerkannt werden müssen, gibt es aber auch viele unbewiesene Lehren, die von Avicenna und seinen Anhängern vorgebracht wurden. Auch hier ist al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Reaktion sehr differenziert und er verurteilt sie nicht pauschal. Vielmehr lehrt er, jede einzelne sehr genau zu betrachten. Die Religionsgelehrten müssen sehr aufmerksam vorgehen und sich die Details der zu beurteilenden Positionen genau anschauen. In seiner viel gelesenen Autobiographie weist al-G˙aza¯lı¯ darauf hin, dass die korrekte Lehre von einer Irrlehre oft nur sehr schwer zu unterscheiden ist, weil beide sich sehr ähnlich sein können. Man muss ein Experte in der Theologie sein, um hier genau die Grenze bestimmen zu können. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ vergleicht dies mit dem Beruf eines Geldwechslers, „der seine Hand in den Geldbeutel des Fälschers steckt, um das echte Gold von dem falschen und unechten zu unterscheiden.“11 Das falsche Gold ist für den erfahrenen Geldwechsler keine Gefahr, denn er kann es vom echten unterscheiden. Der Mann vom Lande (al-qarawı¯) jedoch muss vor dem Falschgold gewarnt werden, denn er kann es aufgrund seiner Ähnlichkeit 9 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Faisal at-tafriqa bayna l–Isla¯m wa-z-zandaqa, hrsg. v. Sulayma¯n Dunya¯, Kairo ˙ dt. Übers. Über Rechtgläubigkeit und religiöse Toleranz. Eine Übersetzung 1381/1961, S. 187; der Schrift Das Kriterium der Unterscheidung zwischen Islam und Gottlosigkeit, übers. v. Frank Griffel, Zürich 1998, S. 69. Siehe auch Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, S. 111–115. 10 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Faysal at-tafriqa, S. 181f.; dt. Übers., 65. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ bezieht sich an dieser Stelle auf den Text eines˙hadı¯t. Für ihn sind der Text des Korans wie auch der des hadı¯t-Korpus beides ¯ ˙ Offenbarung. ˙ ¯ Teil der göttlichen ˙ 11 Al-Gaza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid, S. 25; dt. Übers., S. 27. ¯

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mit echtem Gold nicht davon unterscheiden. Wahre und falsche Lehren liegen also häufig sehr eng beieinander, so wie sich das Falschgold zusammen mit dem echten im Geldbeutel des Fälschers findet und nur von Experten unterschieden werden kann. Manchmal muss eine falsche Lehre nur an einer kleinen Stelle korrigiert werden, um so zur wahren Lehre zu werden. Im Folgenden möchte ich an einem wichtigen Beispiel aufzeigen, was al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit der Ähnlichkeit des Falschen mit dem Wahren meint. Zuvor muss ich aber auch darauf hinweisen, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ einige der Lehren Avicennas vehement abgelehnt hat, weil sie, wie er schreibt, „nicht zu den Überzeugungen auch nur einer der [vielen] muslimischen Sekten gehören.“12 Solche Lehren hatte al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sicher nicht im Sinn, als er von der Ähnlichkeit des Wahren mit dem Falschen gesprochen hat. Vor allem drei Lehren des Avicenna verurteilt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ aufs schärfste: Erstens die Lehre von der Anfangslosigkeit der Welt, zweitens die, dass Gott nur die Allgemeinbegriffe, nicht aber Individuen kennen würde und drittens die Lehre, dass die Auferstehung im Jenseits nicht wie im Koran beschrieben die Körper der Menschen betrifft sondern nur ihre Seelen und deren verschiedene Vermögen. Wer immer eine dieser drei Lehren vertritt, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, hat sich so weit vom Islam entfernt, dass er nicht mehr zur Gemeinde der Gläubigen gezählt werden kann, und als heimlicher Apostat, der vom Islam abgefallen ist, getötet werden darf.13 Neben diesen drei auf ’s Schärfste verurteilten Lehren akzeptierte al-G˙aza¯lı¯ aber auch einiges von dem, was Avicenna in seine aristotelisch-wissenschaftliche Deutung des Islam aufgenommen hat. So erklärt Avicenna in seinen verschiedenen Werken zur Seelenlehre des Menschen auf welche Weise Prophetie und Offenbarung in der Seele der Propheten zustande kommen. Prophetie und Offenbarung sind für Avicenna Naturphänomene, die zwar sehr selten sind, aber dennoch von den Gesetzen der Natur (so würden wir es heute zumindest sagen) hervorgebracht werden. Für Avicenna sind Prophetie und Offenbarung keine Wunder, sondern das Resultat von außerordentlich ausgeprägten Seelenkapazitäten der Propheten. Nichts daran ist übermenschlich, so Avicenna, sondern alles kann in den Naturwissenschaften erklärt werden. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat Avicennas Erklärung von Prophetie und Offenbarung als seltene aber letztlich ganz natürliche Phänomene übernommen, ohne dass er über dieses Thema allzu offen 12 Arab. lam yaʿtaqiduhu ahad min firaq al-muslimu¯n, al-G˙aza¯lı¯, The Incoherence of the Philosophers / Taha¯fut al-fala¯˙sifa, A Parallel English-Arabic Text, hrsg. und übers. v. Michael E. Marmura, Provo/Utah 22000, S. 226. 13 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, The Incoherence of the Philosophers / Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa, S. 226. Die hier ausgesprochene Todesstrafe, so erklärt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ an anderer Stelle, betrifft nicht die einfachen Mitglieder der avicennistischen Bewegung und schon gar nicht Frauen, sondern nur ihre Anführer. Siehe Griffel, Apostasie und Toleranz, S. 290f. Über die rechtlichen und weltanschaulichen Hintergründe dieses Urteils siehe ebd., S. 266ff.

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geschrieben hat. Allerdings hat Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ Übernahmen wie diese auch nie offen zugegeben. Dennoch wird aus seinen Werken klar, dass er nichts gegen diese Lehre einzuwenden hatte, und in diesem speziellen Fall mit Avicenna übereinstimmte und dessen Erklärung von Prophetie und Offenbarung in sein eigenes Denksystem übernahm.14 Es gibt unter den nicht beweisbaren Lehren Avicennas also solche, die al˙Gaza¯lı¯ vollends abgelehnt hat, andere, die er problemlos übernommen hat und schließlich drittens solche, die er mit einer oftmals nur geringfügige Veränderung in sein eigenes Lehrsystem integriert hat. Mir scheint, dass al-G˙aza¯lı¯ diese dritte Kategorie meint, wenn er in seiner Autobiographie davon spricht, dass das Wahre dem Falschen so ähnlich ist wie echtes Gold dem Falschgold. Dies ist, wie ich finde, die interessanteste Kategorie von Lehren Avicennas mit denen sich alG˙aza¯lı¯ auseinandersetzt. A. I. Sabra hat für diesen Vorgang den Begriff der „Einbürgerung“ (engl. „naturalisation“) von Gedankengut, das aus der griechischen Tradition kommt, in die Gedankenwelt des Islam geprägt. Nachdem durch die arabische Übersetzung der griechischen Werke Aristoteles’ und der Kommentare dazu und dann in einem weiteren Schritt durch die Arbeit Avicennas und anderer arabischer Aristoteliker eine „Aneignung“ (engl. „appropriation“) griechischer Ideen im Islam stattgefunden hat, wurden sie schließlich in einem weiteren Schritt durch muslimische Theologen wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ „eingebürgert“.15 Solche „eingebürgerte“ Ideen waren oft alles andere als marginal und unbedeutend. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat z. B. seine gesamte Vorstellung vom Kosmos, wie dieser gestaltet ist und wie Gott in Relation zu seiner Schöpfung steht, aus der Kosmologie Avicennas „eingebürgert“. Er hat dabei Avicennas Lehren zu diesem Thema aufgenommen und sie an einer einzigen Stelle verändert. Diese eine Veränderung hat alle Fehler, die Avicenna gemäß al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in seiner Kosmologie gemacht hat, mit einem Mal korrigiert. Die falsche Lehre Avicennas lag für alG˙aza¯lı¯ also ganz nahe am Wahren. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ ist, was diese Korrektur an Avicennas kosmologischem System angeht, abermals nicht offen. Er schreibt darüber einzig in einem seiner schwierigsten Bücher, Die Nische der Lichter (Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r), in einer Passage, die schon vielen Interpreten Kopfzerbrechen bereitet hat. Dies ist die sogenannte 14 Siehe dazu Griffel, „Muslim Philosophers’ Rationalist Explanation of Muhammad’s Prophecy“, S. 174–179, M. Afifi al-Akiti, „The Three Properties of Prophethood in˙ Certain Works of ˙ aza¯lı¯“, in: Interpreting Avicenna. Science and Philosophy in Medieval Avicenna and al-G Islam. Proceedings of the Second Conference of the Avicenna Study Group, hrsg. v. Jon McGinnis, Islamic Philosophy, Theology and Science. Texts and Studies (IPTS), Bd. 56, Leiden ˙ aza¯lı¯’s Concept of Prophecy: The Introduction of Avicennan 2004, S. 189–212; Griffel, „Al-G Psychology into Asˇʿarite Theology“, in: Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 14 (2004), S. 101–144. 15 Sabra, „The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Sciences in Medieval Islam: A Preliminary Statement“, in: History of Science 25 (1987), S. 223–243.

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„Schleiersektion“ (engl. „veil section“) am Ende dieses Buches.16 Dort beschreibt al-G˙aza¯lı¯, dass Gott sich selbst durch eine Anzahl von Schleiern (singl. higˇa¯b), ˙ dem Verständnis der Menschen entzieht. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ zitiert einen hadı¯t, d. h. einen ¯ ˙ Ausspruch des Propheten Muhammads, der sich zwar nicht in den sechs kano˙ nischen Sammlungen findet, der aber zu dieser Zeit auch in anderen theologischen Werken vorkommt. Muhammad hat demnach gesagt: „Gott hat siebzig ˙ Schleier aus Licht und Dunkelheit, würde Er sie wegnehmen, dann würde die Erhabenheit seines Antlitzes jeden verbrennen, dessen Blick ihn erfasst.“17 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ versteht diesen hadı¯t so, dass es verschiedene Schleier gibt, die die ˙ ¯ Menschen von der Erkenntnis Gottes trennen. Einige Menschen werden durch mehr Schleier getrennt als andere, und dann gibt es dickere und dünnere Schleier. Schließlich, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, gibt es auch eine Gruppe, „die angekommen sind“ (al-wa¯silu¯n), und die richtig erkannt haben, um welches Wesen es sich ˙ handelt, wenn wir das Wort „Gott“ benutzen. Die dicksten Schleier, die die Menschen von der Erkenntnis Gottes trennen, sind die der Dunkelheit, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯. Nicht ganz so dick sind jene aus einer Mischung von Licht und Dunkelheit. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ beschreibt auf diesen Seiten eine Anzahl von religiösen Gruppen, wobei er einige davon mit Namen identifiziert. Die dünnsten Schleier sind aus reinem Licht.18 Hier, in der Gruppe der Menschen, die der Wahrheit über Gott sehr nahe kommen, sie allerdings immer noch nicht erreichen, führt al-G˙aza¯lı¯ drei Gruppen auf, ohne sie jedoch zu identifizieren. Die drei Gruppen derer, die nur von Schleiern aus Licht von der wahren Erkenntnis Gottes getrennt sind, sind für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sehr weit gekommen und gehören zu den einsichtsvollsten Menschen. Weiter kamen nur jene, die wirklich bei der Erkenntnis Gottes angekommen sind; womit al-G˙aza¯lı¯ natürlich sich selbst und die von ihm eingewiesenen Studenten und Anhänger meint. Die Muʿtaziliten z. B., stehen weit unter diesen drei Gruppen, denn sie sind von Schleiern aus Licht gemischt mit Dunkelheit von der Wahrheit getrennt. AlG˙aza¯lı¯ sagt nicht, wen er genau mit den drei Gruppen meint, die nur von Schleiern aus Licht getrennt sind. In meiner Deutung der Schleiersektion in der Nische der Lichter habe ich die Lehren, die al-G˙aza¯lı¯ diesen drei Gruppen zuschreibt, mit anderen Passagen in seinen Werken verglichen und bin zu dem Ergebnis ge16 In Griffel, „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Cosmology in the Veil Section of His Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r“, in: Avicenna and his Legacy: A Golden Age of Science and Philosophy, hrsg. v. Tzvi Langermann, Turnhout/ Belgien 2009, S. 27–49, hier S. 29–31 (vor allem in Fussnote 14) gebe ich einen kurzen Überblick über vorhergehende Versuche in westlicher Literatur, die „Schleiersektion“ in Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r zu deuten. 17 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, ʿAbu¯ l-ʿIla¯ Afı¯fı¯, Kairo 1964; dt. Übers. Die Nische der Lichter, übers. v. ʿA. ʿA. Elschazlı¯, Philosophische Bibliothek (PhB), Bd. 390, Hamburg 1987, S. 84. Der hadı¯t ist in der dt. Übersetzung, Die Nische der Lichter S. 54, nicht ganz korrekt übersetzt. ˙ ˙ ¯aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, S. 84–90; dt. Übers., S. 54–61. 18 Al-G

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kommen, dass er hier drei Gruppen von Philosophen beschreibt.19 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ schreibt hier quasi eine sehr kurze Geschichte der Philosophie, in der die erste der drei Gruppen, die ich mit den allerersten Philosophen, also z. B. den vor-sokratischen griechischen Philosophen oder auch einer Gruppe von Sabäern identifiziere, von der zweiten Gruppe mit Aristoteles abgelöst wird, und schließlich in der dritten Gruppe, die die Lehren Avicennas repräsentiert, gipfelt. Jede spätere Gruppe ist der vorhergehenden überlegen, was ihre Einsicht in den Kosmos und seinen Schöpfer angeht. Die erste Gruppe z. B.hat verstanden, dass Gott kein Körper ist und seine Attribute den menschlichen Attributen mit gleichen Namen (wie z. B. „Rede“, „Wille“, oder „Macht“) ganz unähnlich sind. Sie haben aber den Fehler gemacht anzunehmen, dass es nur einen einzigen Himmel gibt. Aristoteles und seine Anhänger haben das korrigiert, und haben festgestellt, dass es eine große Anzahl von Sphären im Himmel gibt, die alle auf unterschiedliche Weise um die Erde kreisen. Hier bezieht sich al-G˙aza¯lı¯ natürlich auf ein geozentrisches Weltbild, dass bis zum 16. Jh. die astronomischen Wissenschaften und auch die Kosmologie kritiklos regierte. Der griechische Gelehrte Ptolemäus (gest. ca. 165) hat diesen Kosmos in seinem Buch Almagest mathematisch beschrieben. Darin gibt es neun Hauptsphären, die um die Erde kreisen. Jedem der fünf damals bekannten Planeten war eine dieser Sphären zugeordnet. Der Mond und die Sonne hatten jeweils auch eine Sphäre. Die Sphäre der Fixsterne lag über all diesen. Schließlich gab es eine allerhöchste Sphäre, die keinem Himmelsgestirn zugeordnet war, die aber von Ptolemäus eingeführt wurde, um ein Phänomen zu erklären, das uns heute als Präzession der Erdachse bekannt ist.20 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ gibt Aristoteles das Verdienst, verstanden zu haben, dass der Kosmos auf diese Art mit Sphären gestaltet ist. Darin hat er nicht ganz unrecht, auch wenn vieles in diesem Model schon bei Plato in seinem Timaios vorkommt, ein Text, den die arabische philosophische Tradition aber nur in einer wenig gelesenen Paraphrase kannte. Aristoteles ist mit der zweiten der drei Gruppen gemeint, denn für diese Leute, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, ist Gott „derjenige, der den Himmelskörper bewegt, der am weitesten entfernt ist und alle himmlischen Sphären umhüllt […].“21 Dies ist ein deutlicher Hinweis auf Aristoteles’ Konzept von Gott als den unbewegten Beweger der weitest entfernten Himmelssphäre. Doch Aristoteles lag mit seiner Idee vom unbewegten Beweger nicht ganz richtig. Dies hat, gemäß al-G˙aza¯lı¯s Kurzgeschichte der Philosophie in der Nische 19 Ich habe dazu vor allem al-G˙aza¯lı¯s noch unediertes Werk über die metaphysischen Lehren der fala¯sifa herangezogen, das bisher einzig aus der Hs. London, British Library, Or. 3126 bekannt ist. Was die Einzelheiten meiner Identifikation dieser drei Gruppen angeht siehe Griffel, „AlGhaza¯lı¯’s Cosmology in the Veil Section of His Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r“, S. 33ff. und Griffel, AlGhaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, 245ff. 20 Siehe dazu ebd., S. 136f. 21 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, S. 91; dt. Übers., S. 62.

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der Lichter, Avicenna später erkannt. Für Avicenna ist Gott nicht ein unbewegter Beweger, sondern jemand, der Existenz gibt. Die dritte und letzte Gruppe derer, die nur von Schleiern aus reinem Licht von wahrer Gotteserkenntnis getrennt sind, lehrt, dass Bewegen eine untergeordnete Handlung ist im Vergleich zu Schöpfen oder Existenz Geben. Aristoteles’ unbewegter Beweger ist nicht Gott, sondern nur ein Gott untergeordnetes Geschöpf, das Gott Dienst leistet. Der wahre Gott, so diese Gruppe, ist eine Stufe höher als Aristoteles’ unbewegter Beweger. Ihr Gott ist „derjenige, dem dieser Beweger gehorcht.“22 Dies ist eine Sichtweise, die Avicenna selbst in seinen Büchern eingenommen hat, und mit der al-G˙aza¯lı¯ gut vertraut war.23 Avicenna hat quasi das gesamte kosmologische System Aristoteles’ anerkannt, und dann eine weitere Stufe oben hinzugeführt. Damit konnte er nicht nur erklären, wie Bewegung und Veränderung in dieser Welt zustande kommt (dies hatte Aristoteles ja schon mit seinem unbewegten Beweger getan), sondern auch wie alles in Existenz kommt, nämlich durch einen existenzgebenden Schöpfer, der im Rang über dem ersten Beweger steht. Dieser existenzgebende Schöpfer, „dem [von Seiten aller anderen Geschöpfe] gehorcht wird“ (al-muta¯ʿ), ist, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯, aber immer noch nicht der wahre ˙ Gott. Der wird erst von jenen erkannt, „die ankommen“ (al-wa¯silu¯n). Dies ist eine ˙ vierte Gruppe zu den drei schon geschilderten, schreibt al-G˙aza¯lı¯, und sie zeichnen sich gegenüber diesen durch die Einsicht aus, dass „jener, dem gehorcht wird“ (al-muta¯ʿ), also Avicennas Gott, nicht der wahre Gott sein kann, weil er ˙ nicht vollkommene Einheit (al-wahda¯nı¯ya al-mahda) ist. Warum dies so sei, sagt ˙ ˙˙ al-G˙aza¯lı¯, „ist ein Geheimnis, dessen Enthüllung den Rahmen dieses Buches sprengen würde“.24 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ sagt aber so viel, dass deutlich wird, der wahre Gott steht zum Gott von Avicenna im gleichen Verhältnis, wie der Gott von Avicenna zu dem von Aristoteles. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ macht also mit Avicennas Kosmos das Gleiche, was Avicenna mit dem von Aristoteles gemacht hat: Er erkennt diesen Kosmos samt und sonders an, fügt jedoch am oberen Ende eine Stufe der Kreation hinzu. Avicennas Gott, den al-G˙aza¯lı¯ „jener, dem gehorcht wird“, (al-muta¯ʿ) nennt, ˙ wird zu einem Geschöpf des wahren Gottes, der im Rang über diesem steht, ihn schafft und ihm Existenz gibt. Dies ist nicht nur eine sehr originelle Lösung vieler Probleme, die sich für alG˙aza¯lı¯ aus der Kosmologie Avicennas ergeben haben, sondern sie ist auch sehr elegant. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ braucht sich mit den Anhängern Avicennas nicht über die 22 Arab. al-muta¯ʿ min jihat ha¯da¯ al-muharrik, ebd. ¯ ˙ Sı¯na¯ in seinem ˙¯ t wa-t-tanbı¯ha¯t, hrsg. v. Jacob Forget, Leiden 1892; 23 Siehe z. B. Ibn al-Isˇa¯ra Nachdruck Frankfurt 1999, S. 146. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat diese Sichtweise in seine Darstellung der Metaphysik Avicennas in Hs. London, British Museum, Or. 3126, fol. 3a-b aufgenommen. Siehe dazu Griffel, „MS London, British Library Or. 3126: An Unknown Work by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Metaphysics and Philosophical Theology“, in: Journal of Islamic Studies 17 (2006), S. 142, S. 17. 24 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, S. 91; dt. Übers., S. 63.

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Details ihrer Kosmologie zu streiten. Er erkennt sie einfach an als Lehren, die in den Wissenschaften erwiesen sind. Was er nicht anerkennt, ist die metaphysische und theologische Deutung des so auf wissenschaftliche Weise Gefundenen. Avicennas Gott hat, so al-G˙aza¯lı¯ in seiner Inkohärenz der Fala¯sifa (Taha¯fut alfala¯sifa) keinen eigenen Willen, sondern muss das tun, was ihm seine Natur vorgibt. Er muss z. B. so lange schöpfen und andere Dinge in Existenz bringen, wie er selbst existiert, was Avicenna zu dem Schluss geführt hat, dass die Welt keinen Anfang in der Zeit hat.25 Dies ist ein Fehlschluss, so implizit al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hier in seiner Nische der Lichter, denn „jener, dem gehorcht wird“ (al-muta¯ʿ) existiert ˙ nicht von Ewigkeit an, sondern erst von dem Zeitpunkt an, zu dem er vom wahren Gott in der Zeit geschaffen wurde. Al-G˙aza¯lı¯ kann die Kosmologie Avicennas übernehmen, und mit dieser auf den ersten Blick kleinen aber äußerst nachhaltigen Ergänzung sicherstellen, dass die Fehler, die Avicenna gemacht hat, elegant korrigiert werden.

Schlussfolgerungen Was kann uns al-G˙aza¯lı¯ heute über den Umgang mit den Erkenntnissen in den „exakten“ Wissenschaften, also der Biologie, Chemie, Physik oder auch der Astrophysik lehren? Zuallererst, dass das, was in diesen Wissenschaften weithin überzeugend als Erklärung vorgebracht wird, nicht von Religionsgelehrten angezweifelt werden sollte. Für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ galt: Was bewiesen werden kann, muss auch in der Religion gelten. Wir hatten schon gesagt, dass wir heute in den Wissenschaften nicht mehr von Beweisen reden, sondern das Konzept des apodiktischen Beweises mit dem der weithin überzeugenden Erklärung ersetzt haben. Darvins Evolutionstheorie ist z. B. eine weithin überzeugende Erklärung der Vielfalt und der Entwicklung der Arten und Spezies auf diesem Planeten, und al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hätte wohl nur Hohn und Spott für heutige Religionsgelehrte übrig, die dies weiterhin in Frage stellen. Solche Leute waren für al-G˙aza¯lı¯ schon vor neun Jahrhunderten der Grund, warum sich einige Wissenschaftler von der Religion abgewandt haben: „Der Schaden an der Offenbarung (sˇarʿ), den jene ihr zufügen, die sie ohne Methode verteidigen, ist größer als jener, der von jenen zugefügt wird, die sie mit Methode angreifen.“26 Zweitens lehrt al-G˙aza¯lı¯, dass wissenschaftlich erwiesene Kosmologien, die auf den ersten Blick mit den Lehren einer Religion kollidieren, von Religionsgelehrten durchaus überzeugend und elegant in ihre epistemologischen Schranken gewiesen werden können. Was im Weltbild von Aristoteles, Ptolemäus und 25 Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, S. 141–143, 253–260, 281–283. 26 Al-G˙aza¯lı¯, The Incoherence of the Philosophers / Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa, S. 6.

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Avicenna die höchste Sphäre war, kann heute durchaus als der Urknall (Big Bang) verstanden werden. Für jene Wissenschaftler in der Antike und im Mittelalter war die höchste Sphäre das von uns aus gesehen am weitesten entfernt liegende physikalische Objekt oder Ereignis. Es war unter allen Dingen, die durch wissenschaftliche Methoden – nämlich durch die Beobachtung und mathematische Auswertung der Himmelsbewegungen – wahrgenommen werden konnten, das, was Gott am nächsten stand. In diesem Sinn ist die äußerst entfernte Sphäre mit dem Urknall vergleichbar, ein Ereignis, das in der heutigen Kosmologie als zeitlich am weitesten von uns entfernt liegt. Beide haben in ihren jeweiligen Kosmologien die Stellung eines „Beginns“ der uns bekannten Schöpfung. Auch wenn Aristoteles und Avicenna einen zeitlichen Beginn abgelehnt haben, so steht die äußerst entfernte Sphäre und der mit ihr verknüpfte Beweger auch bei ihnen ontologisch am Anfang.27 Wenn Wissenschaftler heute z. B. sagen, dass die zeitgenössische Kosmologie keinen Platz für Theologie lässt, so gehen sie damit über den Bereich ihres Sachverstandes hinaus. Was hält einen oder eine zeitgenössische Theologin/einen zeitgenössischen Theologen davon ab, mit den Lehren der heutigen Astrophysiker ähnlich umzugehen wie al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit denen Avicennas umgegangen ist? Der Theologe/die Theologin kann durchaus alle Details dieser Lehren akzeptieren und gleichzeitig eine weitere Stufe der Schöpfung um sie herum legen und annehmen, dass das, was die Kosmologen als erstes Ereignis und als allererste Ursache der uns bekannten Welt bezeichnen, nur eine Wirkung ist, die aus anderen Ursachen hervor gegangen ist, die jenseits wissenschaftlicher Erkenntnismethoden stehen. Der Urknall ist heute die Grenze zwischen Physik und Metaphysik, so wie es zu Zeiten al-G˙aza¯lı¯s die äußerst entfernte Sphäre war. Nichts hält die Theologin oder den Theologen davon ab, anzunehmen, dass alles, was als kausale Wirkungen aus dem Urknall hervorgegangen ist – unser Universum also, und alle darin enthaltenen Dinge und Ereignisse – auch eine Folge von Gottes Wille sind, mithin also alles so von Gott gewollt ist. Bei al-G˙aza¯lı¯ hat Gott direkt nur ein einziges Wesen geschaffen, nämlich „jenen, dem gehorcht wird“ (al-muta¯ʿ). Alle anderen Schöpfungen gehen aus diesem Wesen, das un˙ körperlich ist, das wir uns aber im Rang jenseits der äußerst entfernten Sphäre vorzustellen haben, kausal hervor. Die Art und Weise von Gottes Schöpfung wurde dadurch determiniert, wie Gott die Natur „dessen, dem gehorcht wird“ (al-muta¯ʿ) geschaffen hat. Ähnlich kann man heute annehmen, dass die Art und ˙ Weise, wie die Materie im Urknall konfiguriert war, und wie sie sich daraufhin entsprechend den physikalischen Gesetzen entfaltet hat, alle weiteren Ereignisse 27 Binggeli, Primum Mobile. Dantes Jenseitsreise und die moderne Kosmologie, Zürich 2006, S. 179ff., hat am Beispiel von Dante die Parallelität der äußerst entfernten Sphäre im mittelalterlicher Kosmologie mit dem Urknall heute aufgezeigt.

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in unserem Universum determiniert hat. Nichts hält heutige Theologen davon ab, anzunehmen, dass diese Konfiguration und diese physikalischen Gesetze von Gott gewollt waren. Wenn aber diese Dinge ganz am Anfang von Gott gewollt waren, dann ist alles weitere, was daraus kausal hervorgegangen ist und weiterhin hervorgeht, auch von Gott gewollt, ohne dass Er jemals direkt in seine Schöpfung eingreifen müsste. Dies ist eine Deutung von Gottes Omnipotenz und Gottes Wille, die al-G˙aza¯lı¯ mit Hinweis auf die Koranverse 33:62 und 48:23 – „Du wirst am Verfahren Gottes keine Abänderung feststellen können“ (lan tagˇida li-sunnati Lla¯hi tabdı¯lan) – auch durchaus vertreten hat.28

Literatur al-Akiti, M. Afifi, „The Three Properties of Prophethood in Certain Works of Avicenna and ˙ aza¯lı¯“, in: Interpreting Avicenna. Science and Philosophy in Medieval Islam. Proal-G ceedings of the Second Conference of the Avicenna Study Group, hrsg. v. McGinnis, Jon, Islamic Philosophy, Theology and Science. Texts and Studies (IPTS), Bd. 56, Leiden 2004, S. 189–212. Binggeli, Bruno, Primum Mobile. Dantes Jenseitsreise und die moderne Kosmologie, Zürich 2006. al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Faysal at-tafriqa bayna l-Isla¯m wa-z-zandaqa, hrsg. v. Sulayma¯n Dunya¯, Kairo ˙ 1381/1961. Dt. Übers. Über Rechtgläubigkeit und religiöse Toleranz. Eine Übersetzung der Schrift Das Kriterium der Unterscheidung zwischen Islam und Gottlosigkeit, übers. v. Frank Griffel, Zürich 1998. Ders., The Incoherence of the Philosophers / Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa. A Parallel English-Arabic Text, hrsg. v. Michael E. Marmura, Provo/Utah 2000. Ders., Maqa¯sid al-fala¯sifa, hrsg. v. Muhyı¯ al-Dı¯n Sabrı¯ al-Kurdı¯, Kairo 1936. ˙ ˙ ˙ Ders., Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r, hrsg. v. Abu¯ l-ʿIla¯ Afı¯fı¯, Kairo 1964. Dt. Übers. Die Nische der Lichter, übers. v. ʿA. ʿA. Elschazlı¯, Philosophische Bibliothek (PhB), Bd. 390, Hamburg 1987. Ders., Al-Munqid min ad-dala¯l / Erreur et deliverance, hrsg. v. Farid Jabre, Collection ¯ ˙ ˙ d’œuvres representatives, Beirut 1969. Dt. Übers. Der Erretter aus dem Irrtum, übers. v. ʿA. ʿA. Elschazlı¯, Philosophische Bibliothek (PhB), Bd. 389, Hamburg 1988. ˙ aza¯lı¯s Urteil gegen Griffel, Frank, Apostasie und Toleranz im Islam. Die Entwicklung zu al-G die Philosophie und die Reaktionen der Philosophen, Islamic Philosophy, Theology and Science. Texts and Studies (IPTS), Bd. 40, Leiden 2000. ˙ aza¯lı¯’s Concept of Prophecy: The Introduction of Avicennan Psychology into Ders., „Al-G ˇ Asʿarite Theology“, in: Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 14 (2004), S. 101–144. Ders., „Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Cosmology in the Veil Section of His Mishka¯t al-Anwa¯r“, in: Avicenna and his Legacy: A Golden Age of Science and Philosophy, hrsg. V. Tzvi Langermann, Turnhout/Belgien 2009, S. 27–49. Ders., Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, New York 2009. 28 Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, S. 198–200.

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Ders., „MS London, British Library Or. 3126: An Unknown Work by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Metaphysics and Philosophical Theology“, in: Journal of Islamic Studies 17 (2006), S. 1–42. Ders., „Muslim Philosophers’ Rationalist Explanation of Muhammad’s Prophecy“, in: The ˙ Cambridge Companion to Muhammad, hrsg. V. Jonathan E. Brockopp, New York 2010, S. 158–179. Gutas, Dimitri, „Avicenna’s madhab. With an Appendix on the Question of His Date of ¯ Birth“, in: Quaderni di Studia Arabi (Venedig), 5–6 (1987–88), S. 323–336. Michot, Yahya, „Le riz trop cuit du Kirmânî. Présentation, éditon, traduction et lexique de L’épître d’Avicenne contestant l’accusation d’avoir pastiché le Coran“, in: Mélanges offerts à Hossam Elkhadem par ses amis et ses éléves, hrsg. v. Frank Daelemans, et al., Brüssel 2007, S. 81–129. Sabra, Abdelhamid I., „The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Sciences in Medieval Islam: A Preliminary Statement“, in: History of Science 25 (1987), S. 223–243. Ibn Sı¯na¯, Al-Isˇa¯ra¯t wa-t-tanbı¯ha¯t, hrsg. v. Jacob Forget, Leiden 1892; Nachdruck Frankfurt 1999. Whitehead, Alfred North, Process and Reality. Corrected Edition, hrsg. v. D. R. Griffin und D. W. Sherburne, New York 1978.

Gerhard Böwering

The Search for Truth: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Light of His Mysticism1

The life and work of Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad al-Ghaza¯lı¯ (1058–1111), one of the ˙ ˙ most important thinkers of the Muslim Middle Ages, active some nine hundred years ago, falls in the time when the Sunni Seljuqs were reorganising the ʿAbba¯sid Empire, a time of turmoil and strife. The volume of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s writings in Arabic and Persian is large. New titles of his works, some authentic, some spurious, have been traced continuously since the chronology of his writings was first drawn up by Maurice Bouyges in 1924, then published by Michel Allard in 1959,2 further revised by ʿAbd al-Rahma¯n Badawı¯ in 1961,3 supplemented by ˙ additions of H. Lazarus-Yafeh in 1975,4 and finally rewritten by George Hourani 5 in 1984. Even the most recent monographs on al-Ghaza¯lı¯ have not yet completed the task of finalising his bibliography. The secondary literature on his personality, his writings, his thought and his intellectual significance is vast and can be found in hundreds of studies authored in Islamic or European languages, whether in form of monographs or articles of journals. Many of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s writings have been translated into English, German and French. A good number of these translations are done haphazardly, yet a few others, such as the painstakingly annotated German translation of Die Stufen der Gottesliebe by Richard Gramlich, elucidate al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s work with great acumen and care.6 ˙ aza¯lı¯ im 1 This article is based on a lecture held at the International Conference on 900 Jahre al-G Spiegel der islamischen Wissenschaften – Perspektiven für eine Islamische Theologie in Deutschland at Osnabrück University, 28–30 October 2011. 2 Maurice Bouyges/Michel Allard, Essai de chronologie des oeuvres de al-Ghazali, Beirut 1959; see also William Montgomery Watt, “The Authenticity of the Works Attributed to al-Ghaza¯lı¯”, in: JRAS, 84 (1952), pp. 24–45. 3 ʿAbd al-Rahma¯n Badawı¯, Muʾallafa¯t al-Ghaza¯lı¯, 2 vols., Cairo 1961. ˙ 4 Hava Lazarus-Yafeh, Studies in al-Ghazza¯lı¯, Jerusalem 1975. 5 George Fadlo Hourani, “A Revised Chronology of Ghaza¯lı¯’s Writings”, in: JAOS, 104 (1984), pp. 289–302, correcting his earlier treatment of the subject, “The Chronology of Ghaza¯lı¯’s Writings”, in: JAOS, 79 (1959), pp. 225–233. ˙ azza¯lı¯s Lehre von den Stufen zur Gottesliebe, Wiesbaden 6 Richard Gramlich, Muhammad al-G ˙ 1984.

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Centuries ago, the medieval Latin tradition of Christian philosophy identified the intellectual importance of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, then known as Algazel, and researched his Arabic works for their own buildup of scholastic philosophy and theology. During the last two centuries, many scholars have broadened this research through their inquiries into his legacy, his treatises written in Persian, his philosophical thought and his theodicy. Nevertheless, scholars are still struggling until this day to reach agreement on many aspects of his life and on numerous conflicting ideas in the body of his works. The most recent contributions to alGhaza¯lı¯ studies, the monographs of Frank Griffel (2009), portraying al-Ghaza¯lı¯ as a rationalist theologian, and Alexander Treiger (2011), documenting al-Ghaza¯lı¯ as a mystical philosopher, conducted their research simultaneously at Yale University but came to totally opposite conclusions on al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s intellectual approach and philosophical method.7 Throughout the centuries, al-Ghaza¯lı¯, renowned in the Muslim world as the “Proof of Islam” (hujjat al-isla¯m), has attracted the widespread attention of ˙ scholars because he reached undisputed heights in Islamic intellectual history. No other scholar of his age offered such a magisterial grasp of Islamic jurisprudence, theology, philosophy and Sufi mysticism accompanied by such an intense life-long search for truth. It is often overlooked that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ made equally important contributions to four fields, Sha¯fiʿı¯ fiqh ( jurisprudence), Ashʿarı¯ kala¯m (theology), falsafa (philosophy) and tasawwuf (Sufi mysticism), as ˙ I have pointed out in my entry on al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in the Encyclopaedia Iranica (2001).8 The sequence, in which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ published his works over the years of his scholarly career, shows that these fields represent four successive stages of his search for truth, proceeding from the legal and theological problems of Islamic thought to his philosophical and mystical insights. Mere rational thought, whether legal, theological or philosophical, did not quench al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thirst for truth. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought had two paramount aims: to impart ethical action and firm belief in the ordinary believers and to offer mystical insight and intellectual certitude to the religiously inclined. The peak of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s achievement, however, was his grasp of the Sufi experience of mystical union that led him to understand God’s unity and oneness in a monist intellectual synthesis. When al-Ghaza¯lı¯ had ultimately found his certitude of truth, he explained it in his magisterial work, The Revival of the Religious Sciences (Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n), ˙ offering his insights for a broad audience in the beautiful didactic style of a teacher and inviting mystically inclined students to share his inspirations.9 This 7 Frank Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford 2009; Alexander Treiger, Inspired Knowledge in Islamic Thought, London 2012. ˙ aza¯lı¯”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 2001, vol. 10, pp. 358–363. 8 Gerhard Böwering, “G 9 Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, 4 vols., Cairo 1358/1939; for an English ˙ ˙ ˙

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magnum opus is and remains the mature synthesis of his thought. In his method, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ relied principally on the logic and metaphysics of al-Fa¯ra¯bı¯ (872–950) and Ibn Sı¯na¯ (980–1037), known to the Latin Middle Ages as Avenassar and Avicenna. The substantive roots of his work, however, can be found in the major Sufi sources for his work, The Nourishment of the Hearts (Qu¯t al-qulu¯b) of alMakkı¯ (d. 996) and The Epistle on Sufism (al-Risa¯la) of al-Qushayrı¯ (986–1072).10 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ assimilated the substance of these two works, both of them building blocks of the classical Sufi tradition, and mined this treasure of Sufi sayings, anecdotes, parables and images for illustrations and reflections that marked the high points of his insights. In the depth of his thought, however, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ relied on the inner inspirations in his soul that were provoked by the Sufi knowledge of God, called maʿrifa, often translated as gnosis, but in Arabic denoting a term that understands knowledge of God as a divine gift of insight into the presence of the divine realities in the human heart.11 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s search for truth is deeply marked by introspection: he reads his soul through personal eisegesis rather than by Qurʾa¯nic exegesis. In doing so, Qurʾa¯nic verses and stray biblical allusions help him to confirm his inner inspirations, but they do not provoke or create them. This may be one of the major reasons why al-Ghaza¯lı¯ did not write a commentary on the Qurʾa¯n which often is a standard for creative thinkers of Islam. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ flourished by reading his soul rather than by reciting a text. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was not a one-dimensional thinker; on the contrary, he consistently tried to force tangents of thought to intersect. This fact was already noticed by Ibn Rushd (1126–1198), known in the Latin West as Averroes, who stated that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was “an Ashʿarı¯ with the Ashʿarı¯s, a philosopher with the philosophers and a Sufi with the Sufis.” It could easily be added, “and he was a Sha¯fiʿı¯ with the Sha¯fiʿı¯s and a Ba¯tinı¯ with the Ba¯tinı¯s”,– his refutation of the ˙ ˙ philosophers12 and his polemics against the Ba¯tinı¯ sect of Isma¯ʿı¯lism13 notwith˙

10

11 12

13

˙ aza¯lı¯, ii. The Ehya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n”, summary of its content, see William Montgomery Watt, “G ˙ in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 2001, vol. 10, pp. 363–369. For an analysis of the work, see Georges Henri Bousquet et al., Vivification des sciences de la foi: analyse et index, Paris 1955. Abu¯ Ta¯lib Muhammad al-Makkı¯, Qu¯t al-qulu¯b fı¯ muʿa¯mala¯t al-mahbu¯b, 2 vols., Cairo 1381/ ˙ into German by Richard Gramlich, Die Nahrung der˙ Herzen, 4 vols., Stuttgart 1961;˙translated 1992–1995. Abu ‘l-Qa¯sim ʿAbd al-Karı¯m al-Qusˇayrı¯, Al-Risa¯la al-qusˇayrı¯ya (ed. ʿAbd alHalı¯m Mahmu¯d/Mahmu¯d b. al-Sharı¯f), Cairo 1966; translated into German by Richard ˙ ˙ Sendschreiben ˙ Gramlich, Das al-Qusˇayrı¯s über das Sufitum, Wiesbaden 1989. Gerhard Böwering, “ʿErfa¯n”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 1998, vol. 8, pp. 551–554. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa (ed. Maurice Bouyges), Beirut 1927; translated into English by Simon van den Bergh, The Incoherence of the Incoherence, 2 vols., London 1954; edited and translated into English by Michael E. Marmura, The Incoherence of the Philosophers, Provo 1997. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Fada¯ʾih al-ba¯tinı¯ya wa-fada¯ʾil al-mustazhirı¯ya (ed. ʿAbd al-Rahma¯n Badawı¯), ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙

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standing. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was bold in refuting or tripping up his adversaries. He also had no qualms about adopting their striking ideas and formulating them as his own, without granting his sources attribution or reference. He abandoned legalistic casuistry but remained a Sha¯fiʿı¯ in religious practice, offering fatwa¯s, his legal opinions.14 He distanced himself from barren and rigid Ashʿarı¯ theological discourse yet copied the Ashʿarı¯ explanations of creation, bodily resurrection and human action.15 He refuted philosophical school-positions and anathematised Ba¯tinı¯ speculations, although he reconciled himself with the principle of ˙ emanation and the idea of cosmological evolution. He dismissed the paradoxical utterances of the great Sufi mystics but espoused Sufism as the ideal path to the love of God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s autobiography, The Deliverer from Error (al-Munqidh min al-dala¯l),16 gives expression to this search in an imaginative retrospect that is ˙ marked by the agony of systematic doubt, rather than by way of a historical record that would have been intent on pinpointing precise stages of his spiritual development. Only in his autobiography, however, and nowhere else in his writings, does al-Ghaza¯lı¯ profess explicitly his Sufi identity. There he declares authoritatively: it was the Sufi way that led him to the discovery of the unshakeable truth of God’s actual presence in his soul. The origin and goal of his quest for truth was centred on the profound insight that the peak of human knowledge consisted in divine inspiration. This inspiration was not the revelation of a divine message or a new scripture, rather it was God’s gift discovered in the depth of his soul. Quite typically, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ worked on two tangents to present the truth he had found in the inner recesses of his soul. He selected for them the terms of fitra and tawh¯ıd and saw both as ˙ ˙ offering him a way to trace the divine disclosure in the depth of his very being. One tangent emerged from the inborn nature of the creature. The other originated in the very essence of the Creator, for which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ adopted the mystico-theological key term of “divine oneness” (tawh¯ıd). To give expression to ˙ the inborn intellectual nature of the human soul, enshrining and reflecting the ˙ aza¯lı¯ gegen die Ba¯tinijja Sekte, Leiden Cairo 1383/1964; Ignaz Goldziher, Streitschrift des G ˙ 1916. ˙ aza¯lı¯, v. as a faqı¯h”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 2001, vol. 10, 14 Wael B. Hallaq, “G pp. 372–374. 15 Arent J. Wensinck, La pensée de Ghazza¯lı¯, Paris 1940; William Montgomery Watt, The Faith and Practice of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, London 1953; idem, Muslim Intellectual, Edinburgh 1963; Richard M. Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Ashʿarite School, Durham/London 1994; Daniel Gimaret, La doctrine d’al-Ashʿarı¯, Paris 1990. 16 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l (ed. Jamı¯l Salı¯ba¯/Kamil ʿAyya¯d), Beirut 1967; translated ¯ ˙ ˙ Fulfillment, Boston 1980, pp. 61–143. See into English by Richard J. McCarthy, Freedom and also Margaret Smith, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the Mystic, London 1944; Josef van Ess, “Quelques remarques sur le Munqid min al-dala¯l”, in: A. M. Sinaceur (ed.), Ghaza¯lı¯: la raison et le miracle, ¯ ˙ pp. 57–68. Table Ronde Unesco, Paris 1987,

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divine realities, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ relied on the Qurʾa¯nic term of fitra (Q. 30:30, fa-aqim ˙ wajhaka li–l-dı¯n hanı¯fan fitrata lla¯hi allatı¯ fatara l-na¯sa ʿalayha¯), “the God-given ˙ ˙ ˙ nature upon which God created humanity”.17 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ reached the unshakable conviction that God inscribed traces of His divine being in the very nature of the human soul where they were reflected as His divine realities. Termed in Latin, fitra represented for him the idea of anima naturaliter moslemica, the inborn ˙ capacity of every human soul to reflect the divine realities. In al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s eyes, each human being, by its very nature, was created with a “Muslim” soul. In al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s perspective, all human beings are equally endowed at their creation with a soul that in its very nature is programmed to acknowledge the one and only, omnipotent and omnipresent God. This soul is called “Muslim”, which in its etymology signifies “submitting” to God, because this self-surrender to the one God is its natural state at birth. Only through inherited properties, cultural legacy and educational tradition, imparted by its parents, models and teachers, does the soul become identified with a particular religious symbolism and belief system as a follower of a particular religion. This God-given nature lies hidden in the soul as its “Muslim/moslemica” condition and can be rediscovered through inspiration, the direct and personal disclosure of the divine realities in the soul of an enlightened human being. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ described this process by his preferred image of the polished mirror of the heart: the soul that is purified on the Sufi path through ascetic and spiritual exercises becomes lustrous and able to receive in it the reflection of the divine realities that lie already hidden in its very nature.18 These divine realities, called haqa¯ʾiq by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ taking over Ba¯tinı¯ and Sufi ˙ ˙ terminology, are both a revelation of God and a discovery of the secret condition of one’s soul. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s conception of the human fitra expresses deeply mystical features. ˙ The case is similar with al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s concept of tawh¯ıd, the most central notion of ˙ Islamic thought that expresses God’s unity and oneness. In the shaha¯da, the Muslim profession of faith uttered daily by every Muslim, Allah is professed as the one and only God, “there is no god but Allah” (la¯ ila¯ha illa¯ lla¯h). This profession of the human tongue is called tawh¯ıd, which literally means, “making ˙ God one” or giving testimony that God is one when one utters the core phrase of the Islamic creed. At the same time, the concept tawh¯ıd can also refer to the ˙ experience of becoming one with God in mystical union. Now meaning unification rather than merely unity, tawh¯ıd is no longer the mere profession of the ˙ tongue. It has become the inner awareness in the human soul that, “becoming 17 Hermann Landolt, “Ghaza¯lı¯ und ‘Religionswissenschaft’”, in: Asiatische Studien, 45 (1991), pp. 19–72. 18 The idea of the world as the mirror of God (mirʾa¯t al-haqq) is further developed by Ibn al˙ Thought, Princeton 1984, pp. 104– ʿArabı¯ (1165–1240), cf. Eric L. Ormsby, Theodicy in Islamic 107.

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one with God”, the unification of the mystic with God, has occurred. The separate human consciousness of one’s “I-ness” has been engulfed and obliterated in the divine “He-ness”, resulting in the trans-conscious moment of subsistence in God and annihilation of self (al-baqa¯ʾ wa’l-fana¯ʾ).19 In other words, the human being experiences the “taste” (dhawq) of being unified with God as the human subject passes away in the divine object. The experience of tawh¯ıd makes the human ˙ being one with God on the psychological level of experience. What is often overlooked in the study of his writings: al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not stop at this point of tawh¯ıd but ventures one step further. Experiencing mystical union ˙ and having the taste of becoming one with God can only be achieved if one is already existentially constituted as being one with God. Now, at this stage, one can reach the certitude of ultimate truth that “there is nothing like God” (Q. 42:11, laysa ka-mithlihi shayʾ) and that all that there is, is one. Knowing this certain truth is called maʿrifa, the true knowledge of God by which a human being knows God as the One in whom all is one. In a flash of inspiration, a mystic may have the experience that all is one, but the true knower of God, who possesses the maʿrifa, knows that this flash of experience is the ultimate and actual state of all that there is, “there is nothing in existence but God” (laysa fı¯ l-wuju¯d siwa¯ lla¯h). In affirming this ultimate truth, one has to be aware that the concept of maʿrifa refers to the human knowledge of God – and only the human being is referred to as ʿa¯rif, a mystic knower of God. God cannot be called ʿa¯rif because maʿrifa denotes a gift of God acquired by humans.20 By his attribute of knowledge, God is called ʿa¯lim or ʿalı¯m, the Knower or All-Knower, whose knowledge is ʿilm, the common term for the attribute of knowledge.21 But never is God described as possessing maʿrifa. God does not need the gift of knowledge; rather the human being is in need of it to be able to find the truth. Through this discovery of the gift of certain knowledge that “there is nothing in existence but God”, the profession of monotheism, realised in the experience of mystical union, has found its ultimate reality in ontological monism. The search for truth has reached its goal. The daring monist implications of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s search for truth smacked like shirk, the grave sin of faith and the capital crime of belief in Islam that associates created things or human beings with God. This fact was fully realised in Spain about thirty years after al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s death, when manuscripts of his masterpiece The Revival of the Religious Sciences were thrown into the fire in the public marketplace of Cordoba during the rule of the Almoravid ʿAlı¯ b. Yu¯suf b. Ta¯shufı¯n (ruled 1106–1143) at the recommendation of a qa¯d¯ı.22 This action of book ˙ 19 Gerhard Böwering, “Baqa¯ʾ wa Fana¯ʾ”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 1989, vol. 3, pp. 722–724. 20 Gerhard Böwering, “ʿErfa¯n”, pp. 551–554. 21 Franz Rosenthal, Knowledge Triumphant, Leiden 1970. 22 Hugh Kennedy, Muslim Spain and Portugal, London 1996, p. 191.

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burning may remind us that, according to tradition, manuscripts of the Qurʾa¯n, the holy book which the Prophet Muhammad had proclaimed, were destroyed twenty years after his death at the order of a caliph. Nevertheless, the Qurʾa¯n lived on and so did al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s work on The Revival of the Religious Sciences. The message of the Prophet and later the work of the “Renewer” stood the test of time. Moreover, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s life exhibits striking similarities to the life of the Prophet not just because his books were burnt and destroyed but also in other respects, as is briefly narrated: al-Ghaza¯lı¯ grew up as an orphan, overtook his teachers intellectually in early manhood, gave up his profession and the fame of a university chair, suffered a severe crisis of doubt, abandoned his native land returning to it late in life, made a vow at Abraham’s tomb never to serve the powers of this world again and devoted his life to God. Muhammad’s message was proclaimed in two centres, Mecca and Medina; similarly, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s career had two theatres of scholarly activity, Baghdad and Nishapur, the intellectual centres of Iraq and Iran in his time. Just like the Prophet, who, at his Farewell Pilgrimage, saw that God’s religion had been perfected; accordingly, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was able to look back upon his life with the profound conviction that he had fulfilled the divine will. He was not a prophet, but he had become the “Renewer” (mujaddid) of his age. The Prophet had brought two things: on the one hand, the Qurʾa¯n, the essential message that encapsulated the synthesis of his faith in the one God, who, as creator and judge, guided humanity and directed its course through history; and, on the other hand, the umma, the organised solidarity of his community of believers, who would adhere to new ethical standards and lawful norms on the path to God. Likewise, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ brought two things: first, the grasp of the divine realities in mystical experience, termed “disclosure” (muka¯shafa), that is offered to all those who are religiously aware and inclined; and secondly, the religious method of an ethical way of life, termed “interaction” (muʿa¯mala), that directs the common believers on their path to the love of God. Muhammad was Prophet and messenger; al-Ghaza¯lı¯ functioned as “Renewer” and teacher. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s life was embedded in environments in which Islamic law and culture were firmly established. In this regard, his life differed from the situation faced in the twenty-first century by contemporary Muslim scholars in Germany, who are engulfed by a non-Islamic culture. But there are also many essential similarities. Not unlike the contemporary Muslim thinker in Germany, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ had to create an intellectual synthesis of Islamic belief and practice in order to build a foundation for Islamic religious life in his day. Furthermore, and again similar to the contemporary Muslim thinker, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was thrown into a newly organised university system, in his case that of the madrasa, established by the authority of the Salju¯q vizier Niza¯m al-Mulk (1018–1092). Contemporary Muslim ˙ thinkers recognise themselves to be in a German environment offering professorships of Islamic theology newly put in place by regional governments. Al-

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Ghaza¯lı¯ was able to unearth the truth praying in the isolation of Sufi retreats and drawing inspiration from his pilgrimage to Mecca, the nerve centre of Islamic piety in his time. Contemporary Muslim thinkers can retrieve resources in the rich tradition of historical critical scholarship on Islamic Studies offered by German universities and their substantial library holdings. In addition, they can exploit the high-speed internet communications that connect them globally with the centres of Islamic learning. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ had no established model for The Revival of the Religious Sciences, and yet he came up with a great work of renewal that he integrated in his time and age. Contemporary Muslim thinkers in Germany have no ready-made models for the presentation of their beliefs and ethics in an environment that is not defined by Muslim categories. Then again, alGhaza¯lı¯ could not have established his new synthesis without breaking with a school system dominated by academic trends and teaching techniques of the past. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was at home in the Islamic tradition, the study of Qurʾa¯n, Tafsı¯r (Qurʾa¯nic commentary), Hadı¯th (Prophetic tradition), Fiqh ( jurisprudence), ˙ Kala¯m (theology), Falsafa (philosophy) and Tasawwuf (Sufism, Islamic mysti˙ cism), but did not simply rehearse the school traditions. In his search for truth, he detached himself from inadequate patterns of the past. Similarly, contemporary Muslim thinkers in Germany may need to do the same. Rather than returning to the curriculum of the traditional seminaries (madrasa), the Islamic religious sciences will need to be presented in a way that is reformed in order to meet contemporary challenges. Much is to be gained by adopting the conciliatory tone of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought and much is to be lost by chiming in with the combative slogans of fundamentalism. Inasmuch as I can see, there will be two major objectives for newly established professorships of Islamic theology in Germany. One objective is putting the instruction of Islamic belief and practice on solid grounds and presenting to the Muslim audience an objective and self-critical expression of their faith and ethics in an adequate and open way. The danger of developing an isolated Islamic theology that is unable to engage the world around it needs to be avoided. In a similar way, the pitfalls of presenting Islam as a timeless package of truths that has been handed down unchanged through the centuries must be avoided too – history teaches us differently. If Islamic theology makes it its goal to impose the straitjacket of the Sharı¯ʿa law or enforce a Muslim order of society and state on the German public, in which it has been invited to flourish, then clashes cannot be avoided between what is German and what is Muslim. Islamic theology has to present institutions and beliefs that have undergone development through crisis and renewal over the centuries. The Islamic vision is not stuck in the past; it is forward-looking and has to be taught in a historically and critically sensitive way.

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The other main objective of Islamic theology today must consist in entering into communication with the established Christian theological faculties that are entrenched institutions throughout Germany, whether Protestant or Catholic. In this objective I see a great challenge for a budding Islamic theology in the newly established professorships in Germany as well as a great benefit for the enterprise of Christian theology in our times. Both Islam and Christianity are missionary religions, both have a universal agenda: Islamic theology wants to build and enliven the umma, its community, and Christianity wishes to reconfirm the roots of its church through new-evangelisation, a papal watchword. Today, in the world of Islam, there is the great expectation of an “Arab spring” that has swelled up from “below”, the manifest will of the people yearning for freedom. In the Christian world there is the thought of a new evangelisation that has been directed from “above”, the established authority longing for credibility. Both tendencies aim at renewal, but the pull from “below” seems to gather more steam and momentum, while the push from “above” hardly shakes a leg of the faithful. There is a great enthusiasm for Islamic theology among Muslims in Germany and a yawning indifference to new-evangelisation among German Christians. In Germany today, Islam is vibrant and Christianity stale. Christian theology can catch the fire of intellectual challenge by engaging Islam. By the middle of our century, theological football games will no longer be matches between Protestants and Catholics, they will be contests between the crescent and the cross, with one match to be played out on the home turf of Osnabrück. Our conference is in search of new perspectives for an Islamic theology in Germany. In such a perspective, the benefit does not lie to my mind in what is known as the dialogue among religions. Dialogue is good work, can break down barriers and offer fraternal exchange about one another’s views and politics. However, today something much more powerful than dialogue is necessary if both Islamic and Christian theologians wish to learn from one another and are willing to be corrected by one another for the greater glory of God. Islamic theology has to engage and become conversant with the essentials of Christian theology; it cannot live in a cocoon or withdraw into an intellectual ghetto. This could be done, for example, if Muslim definitions of the one God through the rich multiplicity of divine attributes were set face to face with Christian trinitarian explanations of the very same one God. It could lead to abandoning outdated polemics about tritheistic notions of God that are actually foreign to both Islam and Christianity. It could lead Muslims to think carefully before denying firmly established historical facts, such as the death of Jesus of Nazareth on the cross. This may be done by setting a son-of-God theology next to a servant-of-God theology in mapping the common ground between Islam and Christianity. Such a perspective may explore parallels between the notions of the word become flesh (incarnatio) and the divine speech become book (inlibratio) in scrutinising the

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idea of biblical revelation vis-a-vis the perception of the nature of the eternal Qurʾa¯n. If examined in its Qurʾa¯nic context, the Islamic notion of tahrı¯f, the ˙ casting of the biblical Scriptures, may be envisioned as unwittingly foreshadowing Christian methods of source criticism and textual redaction. A new vista could focus on the historical Muhammad and the historical Jesus and result in definitions of what it means to be a prophet that may not be mutually exclusive. Most widely, new perspectives could lead to a better grasp of the role of human and divine authority in the teaching of doctrine and the ethics of society. In this century Islam will remain a substantive phenomenon in the German landscape, growing in enthusiasm and strength, being replenished by Muslim immigration, showing an elevated birthrate and adding converts through marriage with Christian partners. In Germany, Islam will stand face to face with an entrenched Christian tradition of religion and culture that unfortunately is fading. Both Catholic and Protestant churches are losing members who have become disillusioned with an institutional church, its aging hierarchy or stiff presbytery and admonish that the Christian faith no longer speaks to them personally. There is no denying, however, that Islamic theology will have to engage Christianity to become relevant in Germany and that Christian theology will have to get involved with Islam to survive. Through his freedom of thought and depth of insight, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ offers one source for a conciliatory encounter of the two largest world religions on German grounds.

Bibliography Badawı¯, ʿAbd al-Rahma¯n, Muʾallafa¯t al-Ghaza¯lı¯, 2 vols., Cairo 1961. ˙ Bergh, Simon van den, The Incoherence of the Incoherence, 2 vols., London 1954. Bousquet, Georges Henri et al., Vivification des sciences de la foi: analyse et index, Paris 1955. Bouyges, Maurice/Allard, Michel, Essai de chronologie des oeuvres de al-Ghazali, Beirut 1959. Böwering, Gerhard, “Baqa¯ʾ wa Fana¯ʾ”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 1989, vol. 3, pp. 722–724. Böwering, Gerhard, “ʿErfa¯n”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 1998, vol. 8, pp. 551–554. ˙ aza¯lı¯”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 2001, vol. 10, pp. 358– Böwering, Gerhard, “G 363. Ess, Josef van, “Quelques remarques sur le Munqid min al-dala¯l”, in: Sinaceur, A. M. (ed.), ¯ ˙ Ghaza¯lı¯: la raison et le miracle, Table Ronde Unesco, Paris 1987, pp. 57–68. Frank, Richard M., Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Ashʿarite School, Durham/London 1994. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad, Fada¯ʾih al-ba¯tinı¯ya wa-fada¯ʾil al-mustazhirı¯ya (ed. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Badawı¯, ʿAbd al-Rahma¯n), Cairo 1383/1964. ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, 4 vols., Cairo 1358/1939. ˙ ˙ ˙

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al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad, Al-Munqidh min al-dala¯l (ed. Salı¯ba¯, Jamil/ʿAyya¯d, ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Kamil), Beirut 1967. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad, Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa (ed. Bouyges, Maurice), Beirut ˙ ˙ 1927. Gimaret, Daniel, La doctrine d’al-Ashʿarı¯, Paris 1990. ˙ aza¯lı¯ gegen die Ba¯tinijja Sekte, Leiden 1916. Goldziher, Ignaz, Streitschrift des G ˙ Gramlich, Richard, Das Sendschreiben al-Qushayrı¯s über das Sufitum, Wiesbaden 1989. Gramlich, Richard, Die Nahrung der Herzen, 4 vols., Stuttgart 1992–1995. ˙ azza¯lı¯s Lehre von den Stufen zur Gottesliebe, WiesGramlich, Richard, Muhammad al-G ˙ baden 1984. Griffel, Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford 2009. ˙ aza¯lı¯, v. as a faqı¯h”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, New York 2001, vol. 10, Hallaq, Wael B.,“G pp. 372–374. Hourani, George Fadlo,“A Revised Chronology of Ghaza¯lı¯’s Writings”, in: JAOS, 104 (1984), pp. 289–302. Hourani, George Fadlo, “The Chronology of Ghaza¯lı¯’s Writings”, in: JAOS, 79 (1959), pp. 225–233. Kennedy, Hugh, Muslim Spain and Portugal, London 1996. Landolt, Hermann, “Ghaza¯lı¯ und ‘Religionswissenschaft’”, in: Asiatische Studien, 45 (1991), pp. 19–72. Lazarus-Yafeh, Hava, Studies in al-Ghazza¯lı¯, Jerusalem 1975. al-Makkı¯, Abu¯ Ta¯lib Muhammad, Qu¯t al-qulu¯b fı¯ muʿa¯mala¯t al-mahbu¯b, 2 vols., Cairo ˙ ˙ ˙ 1381/1961. Marmura, Michael E., The Incoherence of the Philosophers, Provo 1997. McCarthy, Richard J., Freedom and Fulfillment, Boston 1980. Ormsby, Eric L., Theodicy in Islamic Thought, Princeton 1984. al-Qushayrı¯, Abu ‘l-Qa¯sim ʿAbd al-Karı¯m, Al-Risa¯la al-qushayrı¯ya (ed. Mahmu¯d, ʿAbd al˙ Halı¯m/al-Sharı¯f, Mahmu¯d b.), Cairo 1966. ˙ ˙ Rosenthal, Franz, Knowledge Triumphant, Leiden 1970. Smith, Margaret, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the Mystic, London 1944. Treiger, Alexander, Inspired Knowledge in Islamic Thought, London 2012. ˙ aza¯lı¯, ii. The Ehya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n”, in: Encyclopaedia Iranica, Watt, William Montgomery, “G ˙ New York 2001, vol. 10, pp. 363–369. Watt, William Montgomery, Muslim Intellectual, Edinburgh 1963. Watt, William Montgomery, “The Authenticity of the Works Attributed to al-Ghaza¯lı¯”, in: JRAS, 84 (1952), pp. 24–45. Watt, William Montgomery, The Faith and Practice of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, London 1953. Wensinck, Arent J., La pensée de Ghazza¯lı¯, Paris 1940.

IV. Wahrheit, Logik, der Koran und al-G˙aza¯lı¯

Mehmet Sait Reçber

On al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Necessary Truths*

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is well-known for his criticism of the Muslim philosophers (al-Fala¯sifa), predominately due to the mission he sets for himself in Taha¯fut al-fala¯sifa. This monumental book primarily aims at a philosophical refutation of certain metaphysical doctrines advanced in a Neo-Platonist fashion, and, hence, the arguments developed to this end are generally negative as they are designed to undermine a particular philosophical approach. However, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s own position concerning the elements of philosophical thinking as well as various philosophical issues will be a further issue. Despite such a negative philosophical project, one can also detect a positive line of thinking in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought which arguably presupposes a philosophical agenda. A typical exemplification of this is somewhat evident in his autobiography al-Munqid min al-dala¯l, where he ˙ attempts to overcome his sceptical dispositions. A further example would be alGhaza¯lı¯’s anti-essentialist considerations on the metaphysics of causation. One can thus extend the set of philosophical issues which gain a thorough or partial treatment in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s works. However, it is beyond the scope of this paper to enumerate and deal with them all. Instead, it will concentrate on the particular subject of necessary truths, which plays a significant role in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s own philosophical agenda and reveals an essential character of his philosophical and theological thought. Necessary truths primarily denote the propositions of logic and mathematics that are considered to be true no matter what, as they are analytic or true by definition. They are traditionally considered to be a priori as they are knowable independently of sense-experience. What has caused controversy, however, is the question regarding the ground of necessary truths: what sort of facts are supposed to be responsible for making certain propositions necessarily true? There * This article is mostly based on my presentation entitled “On al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Methodological ˙ aza¯lı¯ im Implications of Necessary Truths” at the International Conference on 900 Jahre al-G Spiegel der islamischen Wissenschaften – Perspektiven für eine Islamische Theologie in Deutschland held at Osnabrück University, 28–30 October 2011.

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have been various philosophical approaches on this issue, among the most notable of which are (Platonic) realism and varieties of conventionalism. In any case, the idea that necessary truths cannot conceivably be false has some considerable methodological implications on a system of thought inasmuch as they are not just responsible for its structural properties but also have semantic, metaphysical as well as epistemological implications. In Islamic thought the issue of necessary truths seems to have been dealt with primarily from an epistemological point of view, as they were understood to be a part of necessary knowledge (al-ʿilm al-daru¯rı¯) in general.1 Thus varieties of ˙ “necessary knowledge” seem to have taken, in a foundationalist fashion, as basic beliefs those that are either self-evident or sense-evident. Necessary knowledge has a privileged epistemic status since it is considered to be certain and irrefutable. The scope of necessary knowledge conceived in this way is broader than the set of logical and mathematical truths insofar as it involves, for instance, selfknowledge, i. e. a person’s direct knowledge of his/her mental states.2 Given that sense-evident or incorrigible truths were also considered to be a part of necessary knowledge, one has to note that there is not, on this account, a coincidence between “necessary knowledge” and “necessary truths” in the contemporary philosophical sense. However, it seems that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was aware of a similar distinction when postulating that all necessary knowledge is certain but not vice versa.3 For, although we might be infallible in recognising certain sense-evident truths or truths pertaining to our own mental states, clearly it does not follow that our knowledge in this respect is necessary, whereas the paradigm examples of necessary truths are the propositions of logic and mathematics as they cannot conceivably be false. For instance, that a proposition and its negation cannot both be true or that x cannot be F and non-F at the same time is not simply true but cannot conceivably be false. It is well-known that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ attached a great significance to logic. Considering that one’s knowledge of logic is a precondition for a person’s, so to speak, epistemic reliability, he introduced the study of logic – that is, the logicolinguistic categories and various methods of deductive reasoning – as a pre1 For a general account of necessary knowledge in Islamic theology, see Binyamin Abrahamov, “Necessary Knowledge in Islamic Theology”, in: British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 20 (1/ 1993), pp. 20–32. 2 Thus, as Marmura points out, in kala¯m epistemology there seems to be a distinction between necessary knowledge (al-ʿilm al-daru¯rı¯) and theoretical knowledge (al-ʿilm al-nazarı¯). While the former denotes “self-evident˙ truths, knowledge of one’s existence, of one’s˙ states and knowledge directly received by the senses”, the latter includes inferential knowledge. See Michael E. Marmura, “Ghazali’s Chapter on Divine Power in the Iqtisa¯d”, in: Arabic Sciences and Philosophy, 4 (1994), pp. 279–315, p. 297, n. 41. 3 See Michael E. Marmura, “Ghazali and Demonstrative Science”, in: Journal of the History of Philosophy, 3 (1965), pp. 183–204, p. 189.

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liminary introduction to the study of the other sciences. This is not to mention the books he devoted exclusively to logic. Considering that it is logic that provides the elements of valid reasoning which underlie sound thinking in religious matters, the motivation for such an initiative ought to be appreciated. On the other hand, necessary truths in particular seem to have played a decisive and constructive role in the development and structure of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought, even though he left some metaphysical and epistemological questions unanswered. His approach to necessary truths is generally considered to be instrumentalist due to the fact that, for him, the truths of logic and mathematic are topic-neutral and do not commit one to a substantial truth for or against religion. However, it shall be contended here that necessary truths possess more than an instrumentalist value in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought. This is because (i) his scepticism hardly touches the truth of necessary propositions that are considered to be essential to the very idea of proof, (ii) he restricts the scope of Divine power to what is logically possible, i. e. what is not logically necessary or impossible, and (iii) he considers that the knowledge of necessary truths (such as the body of logical truths) is also inevitable for sound reasoning in religious matters. Apparently, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s scepticism does not seem to involve the knowledge of necessary truths in the first place: Thereupon I investigated the various kinds of knowledge I had, and found myself destitute of all knowledge with the characteristic of infallibility except in the case of sense-perception and necessary truths. So I said: ‘Now that despair has come over me, there is no point in studying any problems except on the basis of self-evident, namely, necessary truths and the affirmation of the senses.4

However, after thinking on the epistemic certainty of sense-perception and the ground of necessary truths, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ concludes that there are no reasons to rely on the former (i. e. sense-perceptions) as a source of infallible knowledge, and he was left with the idea that: Perhaps only those intellectual truths which are first principles (or derived from the first principles) are to be relied upon, such as the assertion that ten are more than three, that the same cannot be both affirmed and denied at one time, that one thing is not both generated in time and eternal, nor both existent and non-existent, nor both necessary and impossible.5

For al-Ghaza¯lı¯, as seen, the primary examples of necessary truths are truths of logic and mathematics that are taken to be the “first principles”. The first principles (al-awwaliya¯t), epistemologically speaking, are the truths of pure 4 Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-G˙aza¯lı¯, “Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l (The Deliverance from Error)”, in: The Faith ˙ ˙ ˙ and Practice of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, trans. William Montgomery Watt, George Allen & Unwin, London 1952, p. 22. 5 Ibid., p. 23.

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reason that are immediately conceived to be true by the human rational faculty without a need for further justification.6 Nevertheless, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was not fully convinced that necessary truths cannot be undermined in a similar way. For, although they are actually (and, presumably, necessarily) true, it was not clear that their falsehood was beyond conceivability or, rather, imagination. There was in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s view no demonstrative way of overcoming such a difficulty because it would have been circular to provide a demonstration which presupposes the truth of the “first principles”. In this context, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ writes: “Such ideas can only be repelled by demonstration; but a demonstration requires a knowledge of first principles; since this is not admitted, however, it is impossible to make the demonstration.”7 After two months of intellectual struggle to overcome his scepticism, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ contends that he had not been convinced by a demonstrative argument but rather via Divine illumination: At length God cured me of the malady; my being was restored to health and an even balance; the necessary truths of the intellect became once more accepted, as I regained confidence in their certain and trustworthy character. This did not come about by a systematic demonstration or marshalled argument, but by a light which God most high cast into my breast. That light is the key to the greater part of knowledge. Whoever thinks that the understanding of things Divine [al-kashf] rests upon strict proofs has in his thought narrowed down the wideness of God’s mercy.8

On the face of it, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ seems to face a dilemma at this point: Are necessary truths or the first principles of reason self-evident in themselves or are they made self-evident by Divine illumination? Taking such a dilemma into his consideration, Jamı¯l Salı¯ba¯ has rightly argued that, on al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s account, the basic ˙ function of Divine light is not to make necessary truths self-evident but to remove sophistry or confusion involving our understanding of them. Consequently, had there been no sophistry, there would have been no need for the Divine light to reaffirm that they are clearly true or indeed necessarily true.9 6 See al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Miʿya¯r al-ʿilm, Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Cairo 1961, p. 186. See also Carol L. Bargeron, “On Ghaza¯lı¯an Epistemology: A Theory”, in: Journal of Islamic Philosophy, 4 (2008), pp. 51–68, p. 60. And for some logical considerations as to al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s sceptical arguments against the first principles, see Aytekin Özel, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Method of Doubt and Its Epistemological and Logical Criticism”, in: Journal of Islamic Philosophy, 4 (2008), pp. 74–76. 7 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l”, p. 25. ¯ ˙ 8 Ibid., p. 25. ˙ aza¯lı¯”, in: Majallat al-Majmaʿ al-ilmı¯ al-ʿarabı¯, 30 9 See Jamı¯l Salı¯ba¯, “Hudu¯d al-ʿaql ʿind al-G ˙ reprinted in Islamic Philosophy, vol. 55, ed. Fuat Sezgin, Publications of (1955), pp.˙ 191–201; the Institute for History of Arabic-Islamic Sciences, Frankfurt am Main 1999, pp. 164–168. (Page references are to the latter). Cf. Taneli Kukkonen, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Skepticism Revisited”, in: Rethinking the History of Skepticism: The Missing Medieval Background, ed. Henrik Lagerlund, E. J. Brill, Leiden 2009, pp. 29–59, pp. 44–45.

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Therefore, one should not overlook the fact that the problem thus conceived was epistemological in character, seeing that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was looking for sufficient evidence that conclusively demonstrated the truth of necessary propositions. He also was convinced that the Divine illumination uncovered what is already true or rather necessarily true. As he noted later, there was no reason to seek evidence for what is already self-evident: […] the task is perfectly fulfilled when the quest is prosecuted up to the stage of seeking what is not sought (but stops short of that). For first principles are not sought, since they are present and to hand; and if what is present is sought for, it then becomes hidden and lost.10

The paradigm examples of necessary truths, as has been pointed out, are the truths of logic and mathematics, and it is clear from what has hitherto been said that, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, necessary truths are indeed true no matter what. Hence, they are indispensable for a truth-seeking project. But what is the proper relevance of this set of truths to the truths of religion and, for that matter, the methodology of so-called religious sciences? Surprisingly enough, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains that none of, for example, the truths of mathematics or mathematical results “are connected with religious matters, either to deny or to affirm them. They are matters of demonstration which it is impossible to deny once they have been understood and apprehended.”11 Nonetheless, he warns, should one not err in equating the precision and clarity of mathematical demonstrations with the vague metaphysical doctrines defended by the philosophers. The same considerations apply for the truths of logic: Nothing in logic is relevant to religion by way of denial or affirmation. Logic is the study of the methods of demonstration and of forming syllogisms, of the conditions for the premises of proofs, of the manner of combining the premises, of the condition for sound definition and the manner of ordering it. What connection has this with the essential of religion, that it should be denied or rejected? If such denial is made, the only effect upon the logicians is to impair their belief in the intelligence of the man who made the denial and, what is worse in his religion, inasmuch as he considers that it rests on such denials. Moreover, there is a type of mistake into which the students of logic are liable to fall. They draw up a list of conditions to be fulfilled by demonstration, which are known without fail to produce certainty. When, however, they come at length to treat of religious questions, not merely are they unable to satisfy these conditions, but they admit an extreme degree of relaxation (sc. of their standards of proof). Frequently, too, the student who admires logic and sees its clarity imagines that the infidel doctrines attributed to the philosophers are supported by similar demonstrations, and hastens

10 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l”, p. 26. ¯ ˙ 11 Ibid., p. 33.

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into unbelief before reaching the theological (or metaphysical) sciences. Thus this drawback too leads to unbelief.12

From what has been set out thus far, one can conclude: the general strategy of alGhaza¯lı¯ on the issue of necessary truths is that they are (at least) not directly relevant to the essentials of religion, given that an affirmation or a denial of them poses no threat to religion. But why should we think so? The question as to whether the truths of logic and mathematics have anything to do with the essentials of religion may need further elaboration. However, is it really true that they are irrelevant to the truths of religion? One possible reason for thinking so is to say that, as necessary truths are “topic-neutral”, they imply nothing about religious matters in particular. Unlike the set of beliefs embodied in the religious texts, they do not reveal a particular religious belief in this case. While this may be to a certain extent acceptable, it hardly follows from this that the propositions of logic and mathematics are not relevant to religion, nor does it follow that they are as such not a body of truths. One has to admit that a full evaluation of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s position at this point may require an examination of various issues that are explicit or implicit to his thought. But, initially, this might provoke the following questions: if necessary truths are irrelevant to the essentials of religion, then why are they necessary or inevitable for the study of religious sciences such as theology (kala¯m) or jurisprudence (fiqh)? Why should they be considered necessary for any theoretical investigation if they determine the valid patterns of reasoning and, more importantly, the boundaries of an intelligible discourse? Evidently, it is hard to think that truth is not a substantial property of necessary propositions (daru¯riya¯t) for the simple fact that they are “topic-neutral” ˙ or analytic. On the contrary, if the truths of logic are necessary for all theoretical investigations, then it must follow that they have a privileged or higher status due to the fact that they are necessarily true and therefore cannot be false. That is why the truths of logic, in Frege’s words, denote “the laws of truth”13. Now, one has to say, given that truth matters for al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s project, necessary truths should be more relevant. If one cannot articulate a substantial truth or draw a sound conclusion without presupposing necessary truths, then they can hardly be simply instrumental. By the same token, it would be inaccurate to think that they are not relevant or rather essentially relevant to religious truths. It ought to be noted that, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, necessary truths are crucial for two reasons: they are not merely necessary for a proper understanding of religious matters, but they also restrict the scope of Divine power. Thus in the seventeenth 12 Ibid., pp. 35–36. 13 Gottlob Frege, “The Thought: A Logical Inquiry”, trans. Peter T. Geach/Max Black, in: Mind, 65 (1956), pp. 289–311, p. 289.

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chapter (on natural causation and miracles) of his The Incoherence of the Philosophers (Taha¯fu¯t al-fala¯sifa), he clearly states that that which is “impossible” restricts Divine power: The impossible is not within the power [of being enacted]. The impossible consists in affirming a thing conjointly with denying it, affirming the more specific while denying the more general, or affirming two things while negating one [of them]. What does not reduce to this is not impossible, and what is not impossible is within [divine] power.14

As seen, logical modalities play a key role in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s metaphysics.15 Only an act that involves no logical contradiction is considered to be a “possible act” and hence falls within Divine power to perform. An act involving a contradiction is not an act at all. Therefore it seems that, for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, it is sufficient for an x to be omnipotent if it is within x’s power to do any act that is logically possible. Our considerations thus far are sufficient to allow the conclusion that necessary truths do play a significant role in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s thought and methodology. It is true that the so-called nomological or natural modalities are crucial for alGhaza¯lı¯, however, one has to keep in mind the fundamental difference he seems to make between these two types of modalities. This is because any denial of a logical truth implies a contradiction, whereas the denial of a natural necessity does not, as it is logically contingent. In terms of iterated modalities, one can say that while the former is necessarily necessary, the latter is only contingently necessary. For, as one would like to say, it is conceivable that the natural necessities could have been different than they actually are, seeing as their denial does not imply a contradiction. Therefore it is or it was within Divine power to create or to have created a different world in which natural necessities fail to hold. However, logical necessities are different as they cannot be or could not have been conceivably false: there is no possible world which God can create or could have created in which logical truths are or could have been false. But then, what is the ultimate ground of necessary truths for al-Ghaza¯lı¯? Is he a realist with respect to logical modalities? Prima facie, he can hardly be a conventionalist who argues that the ground of necessary truths rests on the linguistic or social conventions adapted by humans in a contingent manner. If this had been his view, one would be inclined to think that Divine power is restricted by the conventions contingently adapted by human beings. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ could hardly have had anything like this in mind when he discussed various aspects and implications of necessary truths. On the other hand, to think that necessary 14 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Taha¯fu¯t al-fala¯sifa/The Incoherence of the Philosophers, A Parallel English-Arabic Text, trans. Michael E. Marmura, Brigham Young University Press, Provo 1997, p. 175. 15 For a general account of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s approach to modalities (particularly de re modalities) and his critique of Avicenna’s approach, see Frank Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press, New York 2009, pp. 162–167.

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truths are ultimately based on certain conventions laid down by humans would imply that it is a matter of certain contingent human practices to decide what is necessarily true or false. However, as necessary truths are at the bedrock of the laws governing our thinking, it must then follow that the whole structural and methodological properties of a body of thought are ultimately determined by the linguistic and social conventions contingently adapted, and such a conclusion could hardly have been acceptable to al-Ghaza¯lı¯. One has to note that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was more concerned with the epistemological aspect of necessary truths than with their metaphysical ground. Although he readily admitted that the knowledge of necessary truths is, so to speak, imposed on the human rational faculty, he was somewhat agnostic about the formation of such knowledge. Nonetheless, he was convinced that it was God who created such knowledge in human beings.16 However, it is one thing to say that God created human beings with the epistemological capacity of recognising necessary truths and still another to claim that God created necessary truths. Therefore the question is: are necessary truths created? It seems that the answer can hardly be in the affirmative. Given that, for alGhaza¯lı¯, whatever is created depends on the Divine will, it would be nonsensical to think that God cannot change or could not have changed the modal properties of necessary propositions, that is, that his power is restricted by his will. Surely, God may restrict the exercise of his power by his will but that does not mean that he cannot do or could not have done otherwise. This is different inasmuch as it refers to the domain of what is logically possible or contingent. However, if it is/ was possible for God to change the modal properties of necessary truths – indeed Descartes seems to have granted such a possibility17– then there is/would have been nothing that is impossible for God. That is, God can make/could have made a contradiction true. However, as we have seen, there are good reasons for thinking that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ would have clearly disagreed with such a view, as in his opinion necessary truths delimit the boundaries of Divine power. One can therefore agree with Kukkonen that “al-Ghazâlî considers the formal rules of

16 See al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. 3, Da¯r al-Fikr, Damascus 2006, p. 1626. See also ˙ ¯ lı¯’s Skepticism Revisited”, pp. 49–50. Kukkonen, “Al-Ghaza 17 For a debate on Descartes’ idea of the creation of necessary truths, see Harry Frankfurt, “Descartes on the Creation of the Eternal Truths”, in: The Philosophical Review, 86 (1977), pp. 36–57; Alvin Plantinga, Does God Have a Nature?, Marquette University Press, Milwaukee, 1980, pp. 95–126; Edwin M. Curley, “Descartes on the Creation of the Eternal Truths”, in: The Philosophical Review, 93 (1984), pp. 569–597. Plantinga, in his discussion of Descartes’ view of eternal truths, makes a distinction between what he calls “universal possibilism” and “limited possibilism”. The former entails that there are no necessary truths, whereas the latter grants that there are necessary truths but that it is God who made them so, and therefore he could have created them otherwise. See Plantinga, op. cit., pp. 100–103.

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logic to be binding for establishing the possibilities. They have an objective validity over God’s power and His actions”.18 To conclude, it seems that there are good reasons for thinking that al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is a realist with regard to necessary truths, even if this is not sufficiently explicit in his writings. To be sure, there might be different ways of being a realist on the issue of necessary truths, and it will be interesting to debate which kind of realism might have been presupposed by al-Ghaza¯lı¯. Unfortunately, this is not the place to elaborate on this point. Yet, the foregoing considerations should suffice to show that his intuitions about necessary truths can hardly be wedded to a conventionalist view of logical modalities or to an instrumentalist conception of necessary truths.

Bibliography Abrahamov, Binyamin, “Necessary Knowledge in Islamic Theology”, in: British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 20 (1/1993), pp. 20–32. al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, “Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l (The Deliverance from Error)”, in: The ¯ ˙ ˙ Faith and Practice of al-Ghaza¯lı¯, trans. William Montgomery Watt, George Allen & Unwin, London 1952. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Da¯r al-Fikr, Damascus 2006. ˙ ˙ al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Miʿya¯r al-ʿIlm, Da¯r al-Maʿa¯rif, Egypt 1961. ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Taha¯fu¯t al-fala¯sifa/The Incoherence of the Philosophers, a Parallel ˙ English-Arabic Text, trans. Michael E. Marmura, Brigham Young University Press, Provo 1997. Bargeron, Carol L., “On Ghaza¯lı¯an Epistemology: A Theory”, in: Journal of Islamic Philosophy, 4 (2008), pp. 51–68. Curley, Edwin M., “Descartes on the Creation of the Eternal Truths”, in: The Philosophical Review, 93 (1984), pp. 569–597. Frankfurt, Harry, “Descartes on the Creation of the Eternal Truths”, in: The Philosophical Review, 86 (1977), pp. 36–57. Frege, Gottlob, “The Thought: A Logical Inquiry”, trans. Peter T. Geach/Max Black, in: Mind, 65 (1956), pp. 289–311. Griffel, Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, Oxford University Press, New York 2009. Kukkonen, Taneli, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Skepticism Revisited”, in: Rethinking the History of Skepticism: The Missing Medieval Background, ed. Lagerlund, Henrik, E. J. Brill, Leiden 2009, pp. 29–59. Kukkonen, Taneli, “Possible Worlds in Tahâfut al-Falâsifa: Al-Ghazâlî on Creation and Contingency”, in: Journal of the History of Philosophy, 38 (4/2000), pp. 479–502. 18 Taneli Kukkonen, “Possible Worlds in Tahâfut al-Falâsifa: Al-Ghazâlî on Creation and Contingency”, in: Journal of the History of Philosophy, 38 (4/2000), pp. 479–502, p. 493.

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Marmura, Michael E., “Ghazali and Demonstrative Science”, in: Journal of the History of Philosophy, 3 (1965), pp. 183–204. Marmura, Michael E., “Ghazali’s Chapter on Divine Power in the Iqtisa¯d”, in: Arabic Sciences and Philosophy, 4 (1994), pp. 279–315. Özel, Aytekin, “Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Method of Doubt and Its Epistemological and Logical Criticism”, in: Journal of Islamic Philosophy, 4 (2008), pp. 74–76. Plantinga, Alvin, Does God Have a Nature?, Marquette University Press, Milwaukee 1980. ˙ aza¯lı¯”, in: Majallat al-Majmaʿ al-ʿilmı¯ al-ʿarabı¯, 30 Salı¯ba¯, Jamı¯l, “Hudu¯d al-ʿaql ʿind al-G ˙ ˙ (1955), pp. 191–201; reprinted in Islamic Philosophy, vol. 55, ed. Sezgin, Fuat, Publications of the Institute for History of Arabic-Islamic Sciences, Frankfurt am Main 1999, pp. 164–168.

Martin Whittingham

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on Syllogistic Logic as a Source of Certainty about the Qurʾa¯n

Introduction This study explores a question of key concern to all reflective Muslims – and indeed to reflective believers of any faith. How can a believer be sure about the basis of their faith? Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is well known for his account of doubt and certainty in his spiritual autobiography, Al-Munqidh min al-dala¯l,1 but this focuses ˙ on the subjective and experiential certainty which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ contends is available to the believer. The aim here is somewhat different, namely to explore alGhaza¯lı¯’s views on three ways in which the Qurʾa¯n itself yields certainty. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ addresses the issue of the Qurʾa¯n and certainty in a number of ways which draw on the use of syllogistic logic. In Prior Analytics, Aristotle defines the syllogism as “a discourse in which, certain things being stated, something other than what is stated follows of necessity from their being so.”2 Rather than offer a full technical exposition of the syllogism, it is sufficient for this enquiry to note that the syllogism contains three propositions, the third of which should follow as a conclusion if the first two are true. For example, All scholars are intelligent/ Professor X is a scholar/ Therefore Professor X is intelligent. As for the three ways to be discussed here in which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ links certainty and the syllogism, the first is that the Qurʾa¯n can yield certain knowledge because using syllogistic logic leads to certainty about how to interpret its statements. This certainty is important for al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s discussion of the issue of tolerance over interpretation of the Qurʾa¯n in Faysal al-tafriqa.3 Secondly, the Qurʾa¯n can ˙ 1 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Munqid min al-dala¯l, ed. Farid Jabre, Beirut 1959; English translation in Ri¯ ˙ Fulfillment, Boston 1980, pp. 61–114. chard J. McCarthy, Freedom and 2 Aristotle, Prior Analytics, in: The Complete Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation, ed. Jonathan Barnes, Princeton 1984, p. 40 (24b 18–20). 3 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Faysal al-tafriqa bayn al-isla¯m wa-l-zandaqa, ed. S. Dunya¯, Cairo 1961; English ˙ translation by Sherman Jackson, On the Boundaries of Theological Tolerance in Islam, Oxford 2002, from which quotations are taken; German translation by Frank Griffel, Über Rechtgläubigkeit und religiöse Toleranz, Zürich 1998.

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also yield certainty, understood as reliable knowledge, because syllogistic logic is incorporated within it, and therefore the Scripture empowers the believer to use this powerful epistemological tool. In al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s view, this embedding of syllogistic logic within the formal structure of Qurʾa¯nic arguments explains how the Qurʾa¯n can be said to lack nothing, and to carry within it the seeds of all knowledge. This is a theme which al-Ghaza¯lı¯ discusses in Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n and Al-Qista¯s al-mustaqı¯m.4 Thirdly, in Al-Mustasfa¯ min ʿilm al-usu¯l, his major work ˙ ˙ ˙ of legal theory, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ also outlines his understanding of tawa¯tur, or recurrent transmission of reports. This paper explores what role formal logic has in the theory of tawa¯tur, a theory used to explain how the Qurʾa¯n imparts certainty about itself. For al-Ghaza¯lı¯, syllogistic logic is involved in all three types of certainty, concerning interpretation, the Qurʾa¯n as a source of knowledge and reliable transmission. The third of these concerns will form the longest section of our enquiry. Though some of the following exposition involves technicalities, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s underlying agenda can readily be grasped. He uses what he regarded as the best epistemological tools to explain how the Qurʾa¯n is reliable and yields certainty. This raises the question of whether and how his example of interacting with the best of contemporary thought should be followed by Muslims in contemporary Germany and elsewhere. It is evident even from these preliminary remarks that the question of certainty is not simply an epistemological one – it is also related to questions of law. For alGhaza¯lı¯, certainty is needed to establish legal judgements, such as whose interpretations of the Qurʾa¯n are so marred by error that they need to be classified as unbelievers. Also in the legal sphere, certainty is needed in relation to determining how we know that the Qurʾa¯n is an impeccable source for formulating fiqh.

1.

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Syllogism

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s preoccupation with logic and the syllogism arises from his close engagement with the ideas of the Islamic philosopher Ibn Sı¯na¯, known in the West as Avicenna (d. 428/1037). The intellectual relationship of these two men was complex, since al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was both a critic and a follower of his famous 4 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n, Cairo 1933; English translation by Muhammad Abul Quasem, The Jewels of the Qur’an: al-Ghazali’s Theory, Selangor/Malaysia 1977; Al-Qista¯s al-mustaqı¯m, in: Jawa¯hir al-ghawa¯lı¯ min rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m hujjat al-isla¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, ed. M.˙ al-Kurdi, Cairo ˙ 1934; English translation in McCarthy, Freedom and Fulfillment, pp. 287–332.

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predecessor.5 In discussing al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s attitude to logic, Gutas describes him as “Avicenna’s collaborator and mouthpiece, through whom Avicenna’s logic was advertised and ensconced in Islamic culture through the use of Avicenna’s method of presenting logic under a different name.”6 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ was concerned that the philosophers should not have exclusive use of what seemed to him to be the most powerful analytical tool for distinguishing truth from error. His endorsement of logic is clear in Munqidh, as is his admiration for the methods currently used by philosophers, and in particular Ibn Sı¯na¯. Having stated in Munqidh that logic is a neutral tool, and that even Islamic theologians, or mutakallimu¯n, try to find proofs for their knowledge, he writes, “The philosophers differ from them only in modes of expression and technical terms and in a greater refinement in definitions and subdivisions.”7

2.

Applying Syllogistic Logic to the Qurʾa¯n: Certainty about Qurʾa¯n Interpretation

Faysal al-tafriqa is primarily concerned with a legal question: How can one ˙ determine when someone should be legally classified as an unbeliever? In answering this question, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ presents a series of necessary steps. The first is to establish whether someone denies the truth of a scriptural text and thereby accuses the Prophet of lying. The second step is to determine whether they have denied the truth of a scriptural text, or simply interpreted a text within the bounds of legitimate diversity of interpretation. The critical issue here is whether one interprets metaphorically a verse which can be understood according to its apparent or za¯hir meaning. If the za¯hir meaning is impossible this legitimates ˙ ˙ reaching for a different interpretation (taʾwı¯l). The third step is to ask how one can know whether the apparent meaning is impossible. Syllogistic logic becomes central at this point, since it can reveal whether the interpreter’s justification for departing from the apparent meaning is supported by a decisive proof (burha¯n). Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ describes syllogistic logic in Faysal as: ˙ […] the scales regarding the validity of which it is inconceivable that anyone disagree, assuming that they have been properly understood. Indeed, everyone who understands these scales acknowledges them to be an absolute means to certainty.8

5 For a recent treatment of this relationship see Frank Griffel, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, New York 2009. 6 Dimitri Gutas, Avicenna and the Aristotelian Tradition, Leiden 1988, p. 284. 7 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Munqid, p. 22; trans. p. 75. ¯ 8 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Faysal, p. 188; trans. p. 106. ˙

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So the correct interpretation of the Qurʾa¯n depends on a mastery of syllogistic logic. Two points arise from this. First, how realistic is it? Did al-Ghaza¯lı¯ really consider that syllogistic logic solves all interpretative dilemmas regarding the Qurʾa¯n? He does not seek to apply this approach rigorously in his other writings. Secondly, making mastery of syllogistic logic a requirement for correct Qurʾa¯n interpretation seems restrictive. Could only those with a command of syllogistic logic be trusted with the task of interpreting the Qurʾa¯n? Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is wellknown for his intellectual elitism, but it is unlikely that he sought radically to restrict Qurʾa¯n interpretation. While holding to the importance of syllogistic logic, he tried to commend and spread its use among the scholars of his day. This is particularly the case in another of his works on the Qurʾa¯n and certainty, AlQista¯s al-mustaqı¯m, which can now be considered, along with al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Ja˙ wa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n.

3.

Finding Syllogistic Logic within the Qurʾa¯n: The Text as Source of All Knowledge

Al-Qista¯s al-mustaqı¯m aims to refute the Ismaʿili belief that a Muslim must ˙ depend on an authoritative teacher for correct understanding of the faith. AlGhaza¯lı¯’s refutation argues that syllogistic logic provides authoritative knowledge, rendering an authoritative teacher in the Ismaʿili sense unnecessary. In support of this, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ seeks to demonstrate that syllogistic logic is found in the structure of Qurʾa¯nic passages and is therefore an acceptable and valuable tool for the Muslim thinker.9 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ writes in Qista¯s that, “All sciences are not present in the Qurʾa¯n ˙ explicitly, but they are present in it potentially.”10 How can we know that all knowledge is potentially present in the Qurʾa¯n? This is “because of what it contains of the just balances by means of which the doors of limitless wisdom are opened.”11 “Just balances” is one of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s terms for syllogisms. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ makes a connection between his remarks on syllogisms in Qista¯s ˙ and statements in Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n, his work of supposedly Sufi Qurʾa¯n exegesis.12 The connection lies in Jawa¯hir making a claim for which Qista¯s pro˙ 9 For an introduction to al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s arguments see my Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Qur’a¯n, London 2007, pp. 81–101. More generally on the theme of Qurʾa¯nic argument, see Rosalind Ward Gwynne, Logic, Rhetoric and Legal Reasoning in the Qur’a¯n, London 2004, who states that her work was “inspired” (p. ix) by Qista¯s. 10 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Qista¯s, p. 195; trans. p.˙ 324, adapted. ˙ 11 Ibid. 12 On Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n see my Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Qur’a¯n, London 2007, pp. 43–48 and 67–80, including exploration of the degree to which Sufism actually influences al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s text.

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vides the justification. This claim is that the principles of all disciplines are “not outside of the Qurʾa¯n.”13 His aim is to affirm the belief that “the Qurʾa¯n lacks nothing”, a view drawn from verses such as Q. 6:38, “We have neglected nothing in the Book.” But in Jawa¯hir al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not attempt a theoretical justification of how the Qurʾa¯n contains the principles of all disciplines. Note that, although Jawa¯hir is the work most famous amongst al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s writings for affirming that the Qurʾa¯n contains the principles of all knowledge, the same view is found in Qista¯s. ˙ In Qista¯s al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explicitly refers to Jawa¯hir. “Just as in the Qurʾa¯n there are ˙ the balances of all the sciences, so also in it are the keys of all the sciences – as I have indicated in [my] book Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n.”14 The “keys” are propositions, while the “balances” are syllogisms which combine these propositions to produce conclusions. By finding syllogistic logic in the Qurʾa¯n, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is able to integrate what for him are the two most important sources of knowledge, namely the Qurʾa¯n and syllogisms. Rather than there being any tension between revelation and reason, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ argues instead that revelation incorporates reason. This view, and the role of Qista¯s in expounding it, is no marginal concern for al˙ Ghaza¯lı¯. In Munqidh, in describing how he would refute Ismaʿili beliefs, he refers to Qista¯s in stating: ˙ The basic articles of belief are contained in the Book and the Sunna, and what is beyond that is a matter of detail. Anyone engaged in dispute about a further matter of detail will find the truth about it by weighing it in ‘the correct balance’, viz. the scales mentioned by God Most High in His Book. These are the five which I mentioned in The Book of the Correct Balance.15

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ not only wants to use syllogisms to demonstrate how the Qurʾa¯n is a model for determining truth, as in Faysal. He also asserts that the Qurʾa¯n yields ˙ certain knowledge, in part because it contains syllogisms. He adds that it is possible to “know by the like of this method the truthfulness of the Messenger and the truth of the Qurʾa¯n.”16 So, he implies, we can prove by means of the application of logic the truthfulness of the Prophet and that the Qurʾa¯n is true. This is a powerful claim for syllogistic logic. However, there is another means by which a person can know for certain about the status of the Qurʾa¯n. There is also tawa¯tur, the theory of reliable transmission of reports. To explore how alGhaza¯lı¯ relates the epistemological theories involved in mutawa¯tir transmission to syllogistic logic, attention must be given to his Al-Mustasfa¯ min ʿilm al-usu¯l. ˙ ˙ 13 14 15 16

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Jawa¯hir, p. 26; trans. p. 46. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Qista¯s, p. 177; trans. p. 308. ˙ Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Munqid , p. 31; trans. p. 85. ¯ Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Qista¯s, p. 195; trans. p. 325, adapted. ˙

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Knowing for Certain about the Reliability of the Qurʾa¯nic Text – mutawa¯tir Transmission

The phrase “the reliability of the Qurʾa¯nic text” as used here could have two different though related meanings. First, it can refer to the transmission of the text being reliably traced back to Muhammad. Secondly, the meaning could go one step further back than this, asserting that the truth of the content of the Qurʾa¯n can be reliably affirmed as coming from God and is therefore entirely trustworthy in a different sense. The first of these meanings is usually in view in discussions relating to mutawa¯tir or “recurrent” transmission, to be explained shortly. In what follows, after consideration of issues relating to reliable transmission, the implications of mutawa¯tir transmission for affirming the trustworthiness of the Qurʾa¯n as originating with God are also explored. Mutawa¯tir transmission is a topic often associated with hadı¯th studies. ˙ However, as Hansu has recently emphasised, it originally arose in the context of dialectical theology (kala¯m) and legal theory (usu¯l al-fiqh).17 In fact, the most ˙ important function of tawa¯tur does not concern hadı¯th studies, but is to guar˙ antee the reliable transmission of the Qurʾa¯n itself. Thus al-Ghaza¯lı¯ notes regarding whether a report fulfils the requirements of tawa¯tur: “As for [texts] other than the Qurʾa¯n, making such a determination is extremely difficult.”18 This draws attention to the fact that the Qurʾa¯n can be seen as a collection of mutawa¯tir reports.19 In expounding the principles of tawa¯tur, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is not original, but draws on views well-established by his time. He states that a mutawa¯tir report must be: 1. Based on a statement which claims to be knowledge, not merely opinion. 2. Based on knowledge gained through the senses. 3. Reported by a sufficient (ka¯mil) number of persons to prevent fabrication through collaboration. A fourth condition, or perhaps a super-condition, states that the first three requirements must be true of each stage of transmission.20 It has been suggested that Muslim thinkers’ adoption of such principles, and the resulting confidence in transmitted knowledge, can be traced back to the Greek empiricists.21 Note that tawa¯tur yields certain knowledge that a report does 17 Hüseyin Hansu, “Notes on the Term Mutawa¯tir and its Reception in Hadith Criticism”, in: Islamic Law and Society, 16 (2009), pp. 383–408. 18 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Faysal, p. 199; trans. p. 117. ˙ The Search for God’s Law, Salt Lake City 1992, p. 265, on Sayf al-Amidi’s 19 See Bernard Weiss, endorsement of this position. 20 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mustasfa¯, I: 134; trans. II: 553–555. ˙ Averroes’ Tahafut al-Tahafut, 2 vols., London 1954, II: 16. Note that the 21 Simon van den Bergh,

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indeed originate with the person who is said to have first reported it. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s section on tawa¯tur is entitled “Al-tawa¯tur yufı¯d al-ʿilm”22, where ʿilm is not just knowledge but certain knowledge. It is important to note that the conviction that a report has reached us via mutawa¯tir transmission, and is therefore reliably transmitted, is not something arrived at through conscious analysis of the report. Rather, it occurs spontaneously to the mind of the hearer of the report once the conditions listed above are met. In the introduction to Mustasfa¯, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ sets out five sources of certainty ˙ (al-yaqı¯n), or certain knowledge.23 These are a priori truths (al-awwaliyya¯t), introspective observations (al-musha¯hada¯t al-ba¯tina), external sensory percep˙ tions (al-mahsu¯sa¯t al-za¯hira), inductions (al-tajrı¯biyya¯t) (for example, the ob˙ ˙ servation that apples fall) and widely recurrent data (al-mutawa¯tira¯t). These are all forms of necessary knowledge (ʿilm daru¯rı¯). Some theologians regarded ˙ necessary knowledge as knowledge which the mind was forced to accept or was incapable of producing for itself.24 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains in what sense knowledge obtained from mutawa¯tir reports is necessary knowledge in his discussion of tawa¯tur later in Mustasfa¯.25 He argues that applying the term “necessary ˙ knowledge” to knowledge gained via tawa¯tur is not to claim that it is primary or a priori knowledge, nor that the mind is forced to accept it, but that it arises in the mind without a conscious intermediary. This, argues al-Ghaza¯lı¯, is one meaning of “necessary knowledge”. The unconscious element in the acquisition of this knowledge will prove significant later in the course of our enquiry. After discussing these five sources of certain knowledge, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ adds, “These are the sources of certain, true and sound cognitions (al-ʿulu¯m al-yaqı¯niyya al-haqı¯qiyya al-sa¯liha) about the premises of proofs. What comes after ˙ ˙ them is not like them.”26 In other words, knowledge gained via tawa¯tur is in a privileged category. Weiss notes that combining the second and third of these proofs yields the four basic types of necessary knowledge, namely a priori knowledge, sensory knowledge, inductive knowledge and reported knowledge.27 Significantly for the present enquiry and its focus on the role of the syllogism, al-

22 23 24 25 26 27

moral character of the transmitter is not relevant for Muslim theorists of tawa¯tur, pace van den Bergh. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mustasfa¯, I: 132, trans. II: 548. Ibid., I: 44–46. See˙Bernard Weiss, “Knowledge of the Past: The Theory of Tawa¯tur According to Ghaza¯lı¯”, in: Studia Islamica, 61 (1985), pp. 81–105, p. 100, from which English translations of the terms listed are taken. Binyamin Abrahamov, “Necessary Knowledge in Islamic Theology”, in: British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 20 (1993), pp. 20–32; for some definitions of necessary knowledge, see pp. 20–21. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mustasfa¯, I: 133; trans. II: 551. Ibid., Mustasfa¯, I: ˙46. Weiss, “Tawa¯˙tur”, p. 101.

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Ghaza¯lı¯ presents this same four-fold division in Qista¯s, his exposition of the ˙ Qurʾa¯nic basis of the syllogism. Here al-Ghaza¯lı¯ lists as sources of decisive (qatʿı¯) ˙ knowledge the following: sense experience (al-hiss), induction (al-tajriba), ˙ complete recurrent transmission (al-tawa¯tur al-ka¯mil) and primary rational 28 truths (awwal al-ʿaql). Tawa¯tur is classified by al-Ghaza¯lı¯ as a form of necessary knowledge, which imposes itself on the mind, rather than as discursive knowledge derived from logical deduction. However, there is clearly some form of reasoning at work, since the recognition of a report as mutawa¯tir does not place it on the same level as primary truths. Since there is no conscious reasoning process, then any reasoning process must be unconscious.29 Weiss comments that, “the logic entailed in the ‘hidden’ reasoning is obscure at best. Even under analysis the ‘hidden’ does not come entirely to light. It remains something of a mystery.”30 However, help in solving this mystery may be available. In particular, it is possible to discern the form of this “unconscious reasoning process”, if not its content, through returning to Qista¯s. This work sheds light on al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s un˙ derstanding of how logic might underpin the spontaneous acquired conviction that a mutawa¯tir report is true. In this work al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states of syllogisms that, “Every cognition which is not primary necessarily comes to be in its possessor through the existence of these balances in the soul [nafs], even though he is not conscious of it.”31 So syllogistic logic can either operate unconsciously in the mind or be a process which a person consciously applies. This confirms the observation of Weiss that in acquiring certainty via mutawa¯tir reports, “a hidden or subliminal reasoning must be posited.”32 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not specify what the unconscious operation of syllogistic logic involves during the process of the mind’s accepting the mutawa¯tir status of a report. However, it presumably involves the unconscious recognition of two points: the impossibility of fabrication owing to the large number of reporters; and secondly that the original report was based on sense perception. The crucial point for our purposes here is that knowledge that a statement is true occurs spontaneously and unconsciously. So a tawa¯tur report is self-authenticating: I know that the report is true because its effect on me is to convince me that it is true. We can now turn from issues of transmission to the question of the status of the content of a report. What are the wider implications of this exploration of mutawa¯tir transmission for attitudes to the content of the Qurʾa¯n? Certainty that 28 29 30 31 32

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Qista¯s, p. 184; trans. p. 313. ˙ fa¯, I: 133–34; trans. II: 551–53. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Mustas Weiss, “Tawa¯tur”, ˙p. 103. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Qista¯s, p. 184; trans. p. 314. ˙ p. 105. Weiss, “Tawa¯tur”,

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a report is transmitted from Muhammad is distinct from certainty that God revealed the content of the revelation to Muhammad. As described above, the theory of mutawa¯tir transmission is understood to affirm the truth of the statement that Muhammad reported that God said X. Can we go further and also add that a mutawa¯tir report indirectly affirms the truth of the statement that God did indeed say X? In the case of the Qurʾa¯n, this would seem to follow inevitably from a Muslim point of view, since no Muslim would deny that Muhammad was truthful in reporting what was revealed to him by God. So a certain and trustworthy link of a report to Muhammad becomes automatically an equally reliable link of that report to God as originator of the report, for any report which Muhammad claimed to have received as direct, so to speak, Qurʾa¯nic revelation. Indeed, as Hansu states, “If reports are established as a reliable source of knowledge, the truthfulness of a prophet’s message follows by necessity, because the truthfulness of a prophet’s mission is established by concomitant miracles.”33 Given the undisputed standing of Muhammad within Islam, the following statement can be made: Once a Qurʾa¯nic passage impresses upon the consciousness of the hearer its authenticity as transmitted from Muhammad – as al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains that it will – it is but a short step to affirming the truth of the content of the report. (Issues relating to other possible mutawa¯tir reports which are not part of the Qurʾa¯nic text lie outside the scope of the present study). So it could be argued that the theory of mutawa¯tir transmission indirectly acts so as to affirm the truth of the content of a (Qurʾa¯nic) report. This role for tawa¯tur in affirming the truth of the content of a report would seem to confirm Weiss’ observation that the theory of tawa¯tur undercuts a commonly held view about consensus (ijma¯ʿ). This view maintains that it is the consensus of the Muslim community which in practice imparts authority to texts, including the Qurʾa¯n.34 This view presents the authority of the Qurʾa¯n as ultimately dependent on human judgement. But belief in the self-authenticating nature of mutawa¯tir reports would support the contrary idea that the text impresses its authority on the consciousness of the believer. Accordingly, the text is not dependent on the consensus of believers to ascribe authority to it. Certainty about the authenticity of the Qurʾa¯n text, and by implication about its content, comes from the Qurʾa¯n itself. This self-authenticating quality of the Qurʾa¯n works through the unconscious operation of syllogistic logic in the mind of the hearer. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not make 33 Hansu, “Notes”, p. 388. On the signs of prophecy, see Sarah Stroumsa, “The Signs of Prophecy: The Emergence and Early Development of a Theme in Arabic Theological Literature”, in: Harvard Theological Review, 78 (1985), pp. 101–114. 34 Bernard Weiss, “The Primacy of Revelation in Classical Islamic Legal Theory as Expounded by Sayf al-Din al-Amidi”, in: Studia Islamica, 59 (1984), pp. 79–109.

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explicit in Mustasfa¯ his understanding that syllogistic logic plays a role in his ˙ theory of tawa¯tur, but this can be learned from Qista¯s. ˙

Concluding Comments Some reflections on the foregoing discussion of the role of the syllogism are now in order. First, the prominence of syllogistic logic as an epistemological theory for al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is not reflected in his hermeneutical practice. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory regarding the capacity of syllogistic logic to reveal correct interpretations of Qurʾa¯nic texts, outlined in Faysal, is not extensively developed in his other ˙ writings. In a similar predominance of theory over practice, neither does alGhaza¯lı¯ in Qista¯s (or elsewhere) demonstrate exactly how he believes that the ˙ presence of syllogisms in the Qurʾa¯n means that the Scripture carries the seeds of all knowledge. However, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ may have felt no need to demonstrate this at all. It is possible that he regarded the Qurʾa¯n as teaching the method of correct reasoning, that is syllogistic logic, with knowledge of that method enabling access to all knowledge. This would correspond to the way in which teaching reading enables someone to read books, without having to teach that person how to read each specific book. Secondly, tawa¯tur exists in a complex place between necessary and discursive knowledge. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ believes that syllogistic thought processes operate in all human beings. It is therefore not so surprising that he believes that the human mind knows the truth of a report by means of the unconscious operation of syllogistic logic. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ nowhere makes explicit this connection between syllogistic thinking and a person’s experiencing certainty regarding the truthfulness of mutawa¯tir reports. Nevertheless, examining Qista¯s and Mustasfa¯ in ˙ ˙ parallel indicates the reality and indeed the pivotal role of that connection. Thirdly, it is important to clarify the implications of tawa¯tur as a basis for certainty. While technically the theory of mutawa¯tir transmission when applied to the Qurʾa¯n only guarantees the authenticity of the Qurʾa¯nic text as stemming from Muhammad, in practice the implications of the theory reach further. Since no Muslim would affirm that Muhammad was untruthful in his reporting of revelation, the self-authenticating power of a mutawa¯tir report regarding its authentic transmission is also simultaneously a self-authenticating statement about the truthfulness of the content of the text. In other words, in the line of transmission of Qurʾa¯nic texts back to God, once the line has reached Muhammad then the link back to God is guaranteed. As a result, tawa¯tur seems to involve an addition to the twin foundations usually identified as underpinning al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s epistemology, namely conscious reasoning or mystical illumination.

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This unconscious but powerful reasoning process occupies a place somewhere between the two. It is neither mystical, nor based on conscious reasoning alone. The present study has explored how al-Ghaza¯lı¯ considers that the Qurʾa¯n yields certainty. These theories are the products of analysis from a figure from many centuries ago. Yet they provide an important prompt for 21st century Muslims to consider what proofs of the Qurʾa¯n’s reliability and its capacity to yield certainty are the most persuasive today. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ sets an example by probing the implications of syllogistic logic, a theory of knowledge prominent in his day, and how it relates to the Qurʾa¯n. His concern to establish strong foundations for the faith by using the best of contemporary reasoning raises the question for today’s Muslims of how best to use contemporary epistemological thought in exploring and understanding the faith. This is a question for Muslims both in Germany and beyond.

Bibliography Abrahamov, Binyamin, “Necessary Knowledge in Islamic Thinking”, in: British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 20 (1993), pp. 20–32. Aristotle, Prior Analytics, in: Barnes, J. (ed.), The Complete Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation, Princeton 1984, pp. 39–113. Bergh, Simon van den, Averroes’ Tahafut al-Tahafut, 2 vols., London 1954. al-G˙aza¯lı¯, Faysal al-tafriqa bayn al-isla¯m wa-l-zandaqa, ed. Dunya¯, S., Cairo 1961; English ˙ translation by Sherman Jackson, On the Boundaries of Theological Tolerance in Islam, Oxford 2002; German translation by Frank Griffel, Über Rechtgläubigkeit and religiöse Toleranz, Zürich 1998. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Jawa¯hir al-Qurʾa¯n, Cairo 1933; English translation by Muhammad Abul Quasem, The Jewels of the Qur’an: al-Ghazali’s Theory, Selangor/Malaysia 1977. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Munqidh min al-dalal, ed. Jabre, Farid, Beirut 1959; English translation by ˙ Richard J. McCarthy, Freedom and Fulfillment, Boston 1980, pp. 61–114. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Mustasfa¯ min ʿilm al-usu¯l (Bulaq: 1904–06), 2 vols.; partial English trans˙ ˙ lation by Ahmad Hammad, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s Juristic Doctrine in al-Mustasfa min ‘Ilm al-Usul, 2 vols., unpublished thesis, University of Chicago 1987. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Qista¯s al-mustaqı¯m, in: Jawa¯hir al-ghawa¯lı¯ min rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m huggat al˙ ˙ aza¯lı˙¯, ed. al-Kurdi, M., Cairo 1934; English translation by Richard islam al-G J. McCarthy, Freedom and Fulfillment, Boston 1980, pp. 287–332. Griffel, Frank, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Philosophical Theology, New York 2009. Gutas, Dimitri, Avicenna and the Aristotelian Tradition, Leiden 1988. Gwynne, Rosalind Ward, Logic, Rhetoric and Legal Reasoning in the Qur’a¯n, London 2004. Hansu, Hüseyin, “Notes on the Term Mutawa¯tir and its Reception in Hadith Criticism”, in: Islamic Law and Society, 16 (2009), pp. 383–408.

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Stroumsa, Sarah, “The Signs of Prophecy: The Emergence and Early Development of a Theme in Arabic Theological Literature”, in: The Harvard Theological Review, 78 (1985), pp. 101–114. Weiss, Bernard, “Knowledge of the Past: The Theory of Tawa¯tur According to Ghaza¯lı¯”, in: Studia Islamica, 61 (1985), pp. 81–105. Weiss, Bernard, “The Primacy of Revelation in Classical Islamic Legal Theory as Expounded by Sayf al-Din al-Amidi”, in: Studia Islamica, 59 (1984), pp. 79–109. Weiss, Bernard, The Search for God’s Law, Salt Lake City 1992. Whittingham, Martin, Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and the Qur’a¯n, London 2007.

V. Al-Gaza¯lı¯ und Gelehrsamkeit und Philosophie

Cemil Oruç

Ghaza¯lı¯’s Contribution to Morals and Values Education

The 9th to the 11th centuries are acknowledged as being the most functional and productive age of Islamic intellectual history, as the most important and influential works of all Islamic disciplines were produced in this period. One of the greatest names of this period was Ghaza¯lı¯, who came to prominence as a result of both his personality and his scientific works. His works, relating to all disciplines of religious and rational sciences, made him the most important figure in Islamic intellectual history. In this study, we attempt to analyse Ghaza¯lı¯’s moral and values education based on the principles of the religion of Islam in particular. The paper makes especial reference to the concept of arrogance as seen by Ghaza¯lı¯ and examines the moral aspects of human behaviour, the differing stages of moral conduct, introduces some overall principles in moral and values education and examines the importance of role models in teaching morals and values education.

Introduction Questions pertaining to morals and values have been discussed for years. They have especially been a subject of evaluation within the framework of the emergence and maintenance of Islamic culture and civilisation. As social beings, humans need to live in a social environment. In this respect, in every stage of history humans ask such questions as: “What are morals? Where can the origins of morals be found? Are they relative? Do they change from society to society or from age to age? Do people implicitly know the difference between what is right or wrong and what is fair and unfair, or does society make people aware of these differences? What are the criteria for mature and moral conduct, and can morals be learnt?”1 1 Nermin Çiftçi, “Kohlberg’in Bilis¸sel Ahlak Gelis¸imi Teorisi: Ahlak ve Demokrasi Eg˘itimi”, in: Deg˘erler Eg˘itimi Dergisi, 1 (1/2003), pp. 43–77, p. 45.

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Within the scope of Islamic intellectual history, the answers to the aforementioned questions have been generally sought within the framework of the Qurʾa¯n and Sunna, and from these sources an attempt has been made to establish Islam’s morals and values approach on philosophical grounds. Intellectuals who have analysed the sphere of morals and values from philosophical, religious and Sufi perspectives have developed a distinctive morals system.2 Amongst all these intellectuals, Ghaza¯lı¯ possesses a key position by virtue of the morals and values approach he introduced. In this text, we will particularly focus on the morals and values approach adopted by Ghaza¯lı¯ instead of examining those of other Islamic intellectuals, and we will specifically analyse his approach within the context of morals and values education. As is well known, Ghaza¯lı¯ wrote his works relating to all disciplines within Islamic intellectual history, and his ideas and thoughts impacted on both his contemporaries and the following generations. In this respect, Ghaza¯lı¯ possesses a significant position in Islamic intellectual history. His influence on the spheres of science and thought reveals itself in education in general and in morals and values education in particular. Ghaza¯lı¯ referred to moral values, education, knowledge, senses, learning and similar concepts in almost all his works. He noted down specific sections on these matters and also shed light on modern problems with his views on moral values. In this sense, this study aims to present a model of teaching moral values derived from the principles of the teaching of values employed by Ghaza¯lı¯ under especial consideration of his concept of arrogance, which he regarded as “moral corruption”.

1.

Source of Moral Conduct: The Closest Being to Allah

Morals and the acquisition of values are closely related to the educational process of human beings. During this process, people’s minds and feelings occasionally come into conflict with each other, and newly acquired knowledge and learning can affect people’s behaviour either in a positive or a negative sense. Ghaza¯lı¯ analyses a person’s acquisition of morals and values within this context and considers morals to be the production of a range of different factors competing with each other including impulsive reactions, the mind, the heart and the soul.3 People subjected to this challenge can improve their communication by seeking to establish good relationships with other human beings and the Creator 2 Ahmet Cevizci, Felsefe Tarihi, Say Yayınları, Istanbul 2009, pp. 231–302. 3 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Da¯r al-Sadr, Beirut 2004, vol. VI, p. 7; Cemil Oruç, ˙Imam-ı ˙ ¸ Doktora Tezi, M.Ü. Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü, Gazâlî’nin Eg˘˙itim Anlayıs¸ı, Yayımlanmamıs Istanbul 2009, pp. 23–29; Cemil Oruç, “Gazâlî’de Ahlaki Deg˘erler Eg˘itimi”, in: TYB Akademi Dil Edebiyat ve Sosyal Bilimler Dergisi, 1 (1/2011), pp. 155–172, p. 157.

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of all things. Additionally, Ghaza¯lı¯ notes that the only way for a person to maintain good communication with God and other people is by possessing a good communication with him/herself.4 He makes direct reference to the central position of humans in the relationship between human beings, the Creator and universe in the following verse: In time We shall make them fully understand Our messages (through what they perceive) in the utmost horizons (of the universe) and within themselves, so that it will become clear unto them that this (revelation) is indeed the truth. (Still,) is it not enough (for them to know) that thy Sustainer is witness unto everything? 5

The verse below particularly draws attention to the changing of one’s self and the transformation of this into a person’s surroundings: […] through a progressive deepening and widening of their insight into the wonders of the universe as well as through a deeper understanding of man’s own psyche – all of which points to the existence of a conscious Creator.6

Likewise, Ghaza¯lı¯ also underlines that one’s own self is the closest thing to one’s knowing.7 In this respect, humans take responsibility for their own moral conduct, which manifests itself in their approach towards or their departure from Allah. In other words, the concept that people are aware of their own responsibility for their lives gains meaning once people have got to know themselves and their Creator. For Ghaza¯lı¯, knowing and appreciating the Creator is the greatest joy and pleasure that one can possibly attain in this life, as one can become the closest being to Allah by acting in this fashion.8 This is not a one-way, fixed and unchanging relationship. One of the most noteworthy characteristics of the intimacy with the Creator is the closeness of the Creator to humans. Ghaza¯lı¯ refers to the closeness of the Creator to people in the verse below: And if My servants ask thee about Me – behold, I am near; I respond to the call of him who calls, whenever he calls unto Me: let them, then, respond unto Me, and believe in Me, so that they might follow the right way.9

The way to maintain this close relationship with the Creator is to keep this connection safe. As stated by Ghaza¯lı¯, humans can preserve and strengthen this relationship through constant prayer or, in other words, by mentioning and 4 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Kı¯miya¯ʾ al-saʿa¯da”, in: Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, al-Maktaba alTawfı¯qiyya, Cairo 1422, pp. 447–457. 5 Qurʾa¯n 41:53. ¯ N, I˙s¸aret Yayınları, Istanbul 2006, p. 738. 6 Muhammad Asad, The Message of THE QURʾA 7 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Kı¯miya¯ʾ al-saʿa¯da”, p. 448. 8 Ibid., p. 455; al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. I, p. 390–395. ˙ 9 Qurʾa¯n 2:186.

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remembering His perpetual presence at all times. In the first stage, each individual can become the closest being to Allah through his/her words, in the second stage through his/her heart, in the third stage through surrendering him/ herself with all his/her heart to the remembered thing, and in the fourth stage by engaging in invocation – or fana¯ʾ as referred to by Islamic intellectuals – and in which the complete attachment or the habitual continuity of invocation now becomes indispensable.10 In order to achieve this state of attachment, the individual requires a deeper knowledge of Allah. In fact Ghaza¯lı¯11 explains the gravity of this state of mind as “one who knows everything but does not know Allah means that he knows nothing in reality”. As demonstrated above, in Ghaza¯lı¯’s intellectual world humans become the closest existence to Allah by taking responsibility in the dual structure bestowed upon them. This can only be achieved by adapting morals and value revelations that have their origins in divine inspirations. Everything has its own kind of moral restrictions, and as long as people obey these restrictions in their personal and social life, they can fulfil the meaning of God’s existence. This constitutes the basis for the morals and values approach as understood by Ghaza¯lı¯.

2.

The Central Function of the Heart with Respect to Morals and Values Education

In Ghaza¯lı¯’s works, the heart occupies a central position in terms of morals and values education. Within that context, Ghaza¯lı¯ identifies the heart as the distinguishing factor of all people, one of the most innate characteristics in all people and the source of evil and good; therefore, he allots a particular space to the concept of “the heart” in his works. For instance Ihya¯ʾ’s 3rd (muhlika¯t – sins, ˙ misdeeds) and 4th (munjiya¯t – good deeds) volumes, which dwell on the subjects of morals and values as well as immorality, are almost completely dedicated to the way in which the heart relates to morals and values education. In addition, a sixty-page introduction under the title “The Extraordinary States of the Heart” can be found at the beginning of the 3rd volume, before Ghaza¯lı¯ starts to discuss morals, values and immorality in the subsequent pages. As previously mentioned, Ghaza¯lı¯ begins to elucidate on the concept of the heart when discussing morals and values education. We will try to comprehend the way Ghaza¯lı¯ explains this concept in the following pages.

10 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Al-Arbaʿı¯n fı¯ usu¯l al-dı¯n, Da¯r al-Qalam, Beirut 2003, pp. 66–67; al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ˙ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, p. 11.˙ 11 Ibid., p. 77.

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In the words of Ghaza¯lı¯, the heart is an organ which contains the capability to commit both good and evil elements and is always subject to attack by evil impacts.12 Such functions of the heart reveal themselves in the development of humanlike attributions, such as knowing, feeling and thinking. As regards the two sides of the heart – meaning the dark and the bright side – Ghaza¯lı¯ considers that faith “upon an imperishable tablet”13(fı¯ lawhin mahfu¯z) is the light that ˙ ˙ ˙ brightens the heart. A heart without faith, however, is “like the depths of darkness upon an abysmal sea” (ka zuluma¯tin fı¯ bahrin lajjiyyin).14 In order for morals and ˙ ˙ values education to reach its objective, it desperately needs a heart nourished and protected by faith. As clearly indicated above, Ghaza¯lı¯ manifests his morals and values approach within the framework of the heart and divine inspiration. The quality of morals and values education mostly reflects itself in the behaviour of human beings. Ghaza¯lı¯ points out the strong connection between states of the heart, education and human behaviour and underlines the fact that no single act of conduct is ever independent of a person’s previous actions. Accordingly, the heart possesses certain qualities that all derive from earlier actions of the heart: Imagination, which has a certain influence on the heart, memories consisting of thought and knowledge obtained from invocation, desire stirred by memories that can lead to both good (ilha¯m) and delusion (waswasa), together with functions such as resolution, will and intention play key roles in establishing and shaping human conduct. Ghaza¯lı¯ states that immorality stems from impulsive behaviour, which is itself an outcome of the psychological and physiological structure of humankind. Aggressiveness, self-aggrandisement and a preponderance of physiological and evil motives delimitate the sphere of morals and values.15 In the words of Ghaza¯lı¯, these impulses are to blame for many evil deeds (radha¯ʾil). To illustrate: shamelessness, wastefulness, stinginess, hypocrisy, greediness, toadyism, grudge, envy, feeling joy over the mishaps of someone else (Schadenfreude) emerge from physiological impulses; arrogance, pride, egoism, disdainfulness, mockery and torture are derived from aggressive impulses; evil deeds like cheating and deceit are related to demonic impulses.16 According to Ghaza¯lı¯, people can be inculcated with morals and values by placing moral values in the face of these impulses and balancing such impulses with corresponding moral values, such as honour, wisdom, courage and justice.

12 13 14 15

Ibid., pp. 4–5. Qurʾa¯n 85:22. Qurʾa¯n 24:40; al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, pp. 12–13. See al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m˙al-dı¯n, vol. III, p. 12; Oruç, ˙Imam-ı Gazâlî’nin Eg˘itim Anlayıs¸ı, p. ˙ 24; Oruç, “Gazâlî’de Ahlaki Deg˘erler Eg˘itimi”, p. 158. 16 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, p. 13. ˙

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It is generally known that the human impulses need to be nourished through legitimate means in order to maintain a healthy and balanced life, to show good standards of morality and to behave in a well-educated fashion. This is the point where Ghaza¯lı¯ suggests that the only way to balance human impulses with moral values is to initiate a change in the heart. However, a change in its nature seems to be far from simple. As previously mentioned, a number of ways lead to the heart, all of which come together in an arena of challenge. The heart is the exact point at which all these challenges take place. Hence, Ghaza¯lı¯ establishes a parallel between the heart and the following images: a) a mirror reflecting various images at the same time; b) a lake connecting several rivers; c) tents which have various different openings; and d) targets at which various arrows are aimed.17 In the words of Ghaza¯lı¯, it is quite likely that at the end of all these struggles in the heart any of the following four outcomes may ensue: firstly, a pure heart brightened with faith; secondly, a dark heart without any faith; thirdly, a heart containing a conception of faith that is blurred and unclear; and fourthly, a heart which is open both to acceptance and scepticism.18 Ghaza¯lı¯ evaluates human behaviour in terms of such states of heart and accordingly builds his morals and values education onto these diversified states. The inculcation of morals and values cannot be separated from the structure of conduct which is initiated in the heart and turns into behaviour by way of complex cognitive and affective processes. If we are to mention morals and values education, we are obliged to see as a whole the complex unity involving all processes of behaviour. Besides, if we are to view morals and values education as the “manipulation of the spiritual and physical might of man in order to develop good habits”,19 we must also analyse the reasons which causes people to act in an immoral fashion, the reasons why people feel the need to act in such a way and the level of satisfaction brought by such acts.

3.

Certain Principles in Morals and Values Education

In mentioning that Ghaza¯lı¯ attributed the origin of morals and values education to the heart and established parallels between states of the heart and human conduct, we paid especial attention to his views on the functions of the heart. We would now like to ask what kind of morals and values education Ghaza¯lı¯ may have been thinking of ? In this context, we will begin in listing certain principles he

17 Ibid., p. 33. 18 Ibid., p. 15. 19 Erol Güngör, Ahlak Psikolojisi ve Sosyal Ahlak, Ötüken Yayınları, Istanbul 2000, p. 80.

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introduced in morals and values education before subsequently focusing on the nature of the morals and values education envisaged by Ghaza¯lı¯. The main principles introduced by Ghaza¯lı¯ on morals and values education are briefly explained in the following passages:20 1. Morals and values education should be introduced at the age of three when a child starts to develop a sense of shame (haya¯ʾ), and religious education and ˙ morals should be presented as being complementary to one another. This is because the teaching of morals and values that does not contain religion and metaphysics cannot exceed the boundaries of the cognitive sphere and is thus limited to the level of rational knowledge. 2. Morals and values gain meaning with the development of a sense of responsibility. A person’s sphere of responsibility is not confined merely to him/ herself; it also encompasses the social environment, the external world and eventually the Creator, and thus has a multifaceted character. There is a mutual and hierarchical relationship and responsibility flowing smoothly from man to Allah and from Allah to man. It is a person’s responsibility to ensure that he/she enjoys the bliss of this life and that of life eternal. The distinguishing quality of humans is their mind and the function of thinking, something which is itself a natural output of the mind. This function requires at certain times knowledge and responsibility. This phenomenon which we label “morals” is also not free from knowledge and responsibility. Morals and values education should consequently be established on the grounds of mind, knowledge and divine inspiration. 3. According to Islamic faith, human conduct is greatly influenced by the food he/she eats; virtuous behaviour is linked to the consumption of hala¯l food.21 ˙ Therefore, a starting point in teaching children morals and values is to ensure that they consume merely healthy and hala¯l food. It is described that illicit ˙ (hara¯m) food turns into fire in the body, hence preventing children from ˙ behaving in a virtuous manner. 4. Imitation plays a key role in the learning of morals, seeing as children learn morals to a large extent by emulating their elders. Children usually learn things by observing the external world and by trying out what they have observed in their own lives. Factors such as the quality of the external stimuli surrounding children, the quality of modelling and the number of experiences acquired also directly influence their morals education. This is because children’s moral development is shaped by environmental factors, such as 20 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. I, pp. 82, 101; vol. III, pp. 12–13, 65, 67, 68, 69; vol. V, pp. 4– ˙ ¯lı¯, Al-Arbaʿı¯n fı¯ usu¯l al-dı¯n, pp. 93, 115, 181, 251; Oruç, ˙Imam-ı Gazâlî’nin 6, 20; al-Ghaza ˙ Eg˘itim Anlayıs¸ı, pp. 65–75. 21 Qurʾa¯n 23:51.

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approval and acceptance or denouncement. In terms of moral development, the environment in which children’s role models find themselves in is of utmost importance. 5. Morals education cannot be achieved through short-term programmes and spontaneous changes but rely on long-term and stable programmes. A good number of behavioural patterns labelled as being immoral by adults are actually temporary childish conducts which have not yet become a habit. Sudden or violent reactions on the part of the parents to the first signs of morally incorrect behaviour by their children result in a breakdown in the children’s moral development. Furthermore, it may even cause children to behave in a totally inappropriate fashion which is diametrically opposed to the desired conduct. The best practices in morals education are therefore to explain good and bad forms of conduct, to acknowledge children’s good behaviour, to discuss bad behaviour by citing examples reflecting past experiences and, while pretending not to see first mistakes, to indirectly warn children when these mistakes are repeated. Based on these principles introduced by Ghaza¯lı¯ on morals and values education, we now turn our attention to the kind of morals and values education which should be provided.

4.

Which Kind of Morals and Values Education?

As previously stated, Ghaza¯lı¯’s views on morals and values education can be analysed in terms of the concept of arrogance. Accordingly, morals and the inculcation of values correct people’s innate arrogance. This correction can be divided into certain stages: 1. The first stage of morals and values education is to remember Allah and to firstly consider those moral values which are the opposite of social deviation. To this end, the first thing to do is to abandon arrogance and to replace it with modesty and humbleness. The Qurʾa¯n contains numerous examples referring to men who think and act like God – thereby displaying the highest level of arrogance.22 Indeed, as Ghaza¯lı¯ also notes, in the Qurʾa¯n Pharaoh is allocated a place in which his arrogant conduct is exemplified. In the case of Pharaoh, it has thus been proclaimed that all arrogant hearts shall be sealed: “It is in this way that God sets a seal on every arrogant, self-exalting heart.”23

22 Qurʾa¯n 6:93; 7:146; 16:22; 39:72; 19:69. 23 Qurʾa¯n 40:35.

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Modesty is the counter-value of arrogance. While it is thus vitally important to teach children to behave in a modest and humble fashion, teaching children to behave in this way is not that simple. At this very point Ghaza¯lı¯ suggests that it is important to always keep in mind the verses and hadı¯ths pertaining to modesty in ˙ the relationship between Allah, the universe and human beings. By retaining these verses and hadı¯ths in mind at all times, humans are able to realise their full ˙ potential and to understand their position in the universe. In this way, humans learn their limits and can thus avoid potential deviations. Ghaza¯lı¯ refers to a state of the heart – delusion (waswasa) – in the moral education of man. Accordingly, one must immediately fight against evil thoughts and push the following sense of delusion away from the heart. Put another way, delusion should not be an obstacle preventing man from remembering Allah and impeding him from turning towards good. In a similar way, the Holy Qurʾa¯n explains this situation with the following verses: Verily, they who are conscious of God bethink themselves (of Him) whenever any dark suggestion from Satan touches them – whereupon, lo! they begin to see (things) clearly.24 Satan has gained mastery over them, and has caused them to remain oblivious of the remembrance of God.25

The best way to dispose of the delusion which has invaded a heart is to remember Allah and contemplate His benefaction and wisdom. Ghaza¯lı¯ points out five possible states in the association between heart and delusion. These are: (a) delusion can be stopped by remembering Allah, (b) delusion is temporarily concealed and immediately returns when one stops remembering Allah, (c) delusion cannot be terminated but its domination over the heart can be weakened, (d) sometimes either delusion or remembrance of Allah prevails, meaning that delusion and invocation are in a constant struggle with each other.26 According to Ghaza¯lı¯’s thoughts on morals and values education, the first step to take is to act against delusional thoughts invading the heart, to replace them with positive thoughts and to act correspondingly. This is only possible by turning ignorance into knowledge, stinginess into generosity, arrogance into modesty, greediness into a balanced diet.27 2. According to Ghaza¯lı¯, a further stage in morals and values education is a person’s search for models on which to base their morals and values. An ideal model provides two substantial benefits for the person. The first benefit is that a person obtains the chance to witness good examples through first-hand expe24 25 26 27

Qurʾa¯n 7:201. Qurʾa¯n 58:19. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, pp. 54–55. Ibid., p. 75. ˙

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riences. The second is that a person obtains a chance to learn through other people’s mistakes. Especially children evaluate human conduct by referring to the objective outputs of ideal behaviours. In other words, children learn what is good or bad by witnessing the kind of attitude adults demonstrate towards them.28 To be able to acquire the knowledge of morals and values education from role models, it is necessary to empathise with these models. A person’s feelings of modesty and humbleness can be strengthened by accepting the notion that the qualities possessed by another person are better than those possessed by oneself, i. e. by putting him/herself into another person’s place.29 3. Ghaza¯lı¯ stresses that during the process of morals and values education a person needs to insist for a while, repeating the desired actions until they become habitual. For instance, in the acquisition of prayer performance the Qurʾa¯n says: “And seek aid in steadfast patience and prayer: and this, indeed, is a hard thing for all but the humble in spirit.”30 As also pointed out in this verse, it is vitally important that the significance of sala¯t, which is the core of all religious services, ˙ is fully understood and that people make a consistent and persistent effort to acquire morals and values. 4. In the process of morals and values education, the transformation of proper behaviours into habitual acquisitions is dependent on the frequency with which the virtuous conduct is repeated. It is a well-known fact that constant repetitions create a feeling of weariness. In this context, Ghaza¯lı¯ places a sense of love into the centre of the learning process and points out that in order to learn how to behave in the correct fashion it is vitally important that the desired behaviour gives the person inner peace.31 Ghaza¯lı¯ provides an example from the training of birds, which requires long-term repetitions on the part of bird trainers. The love towards the birds and the awareness of the learning processes of these creatures they are teaching to fly provides the basis for this tiresome practice. So he concludes that the problem can be to large extent regarded as being solved once the morals and values are elevated to a level which is desirable for the person in question.32 5. Ghaza¯lı¯ emphasises that in order to secure the desired qualities in the process of morals and values education in a person permanently, the relationship between man and Allah needs to be maintained at an acceptable level. For him, a person needs to synchronise his/her relationship with others and the Creator so 28 Güngör, Ahlak Psikolojisi ve Sosyal Ahlak, pp. 29–30. 29 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, pp. 417–418; al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Bida¯yat al-hida¯ya”, in: ˙¯ ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, p. 420. Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa 30 Qurʾa¯n 2:45. 31 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, p. 72. 32 Ibid., p. 73. ˙

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that he/she can control a great number of natural instincts. These relationships are, however, often derailed or deviated by worldly expectations. Worldly life, which is described as a “play, entertainment, show, act” in many verses,33 stimulates man’s own lust and misleads him/her towards evil acts. Hereby, Ghaza¯lı¯ advises man to keep such impulses under control and to not seek for more than what is necessary in order to lead a life of peace, both in this and in the next world. At this point, Ghaza¯lı¯ once again recalls the reference to the training of birds in order to exemplify how behavioural patterns can be controlled. The Islamic scholar described how to control the aggressive and violent behaviours of falcons, to tame them and make them submit to their masters, by keeping these birds in a dark place initially and covering their eyes. The same practice is then repeated until the birds’ hopes of being able to fly unimpeded in the skies fade away. The birds are given food at certain times so that some form of intimacy and harmony is established between the falcon and its master.34 6. As regards arrogance, Ghaza¯lı¯ refers to the concepts of knowledge, worship, heritage, children, beauty and status as elements invoking self-pride. These all are the essential needs of humans which must be fulfilled to a minimum level to allow humans to preserve their life and existence. If a person places these elements into the centre of his/her life and uses them as a means of superiority, he/she is simply being absorbed by the foam on the surface of water and fails to see the water below.35 The consequences of such extremities are also narrated clearly in the Qurʾa¯n. “But unto him who shall have stood in fear of his Sustainer’s Presence, and held back his inner self from base desires, paradise will truly be the goal!”36 The cited verse exemplifies in general the glorious end for those who refrain from committing misdeeds. In contrast, the verse: “They will be told, ‘Enter the gates of hell, therein to abide!’ And how vile an abode for those who were given to false pride!”37 warns us about the bitter end (especially) awaitingarrogant people. 7. Ghaza¯lı¯ emphasises that people should not act in an extreme fashion towards achieving their aims, i. e. excess and deficiency (ifra¯t and tafrı¯t), and that ˙ ˙ their behaviour should not be motivated by the desire to achieve superficial goals. However, the extreme form of modesty, the opposite of arrogance, can also cause some moral problems. Extreme modesty is prone to give way to haughtiness, and inadequacy will end in rapacity and abasement. In his works, Ghaza¯lı¯ generally describes this state as deviation because according to him it is no longer possible to discuss the human aspects of people who are entrapped within their senses and 33 34 35 36 37

Qurʾa¯n 13:26; Qur’an, 57:20. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, vol. III, p. 84. ˙ Ibid., p. 418–425. Qurʾa¯n 79:40–41. Qurʾa¯n 39:72.

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unable to advance further.38 Ghaza¯lı¯ makes reference to the following verse in order to provide a more precise picture: And most certainly have We destined for hell many of the invisible beings and men who have hearts with which they fail to grasp the truth, and eyes with which they fail to see, and ears with which they fail to hear. They are like cattle – nay, they are even less conscious of the right way: it is they, they who are the (truly) heedless.39

Animals follow their instincts and natural needs and are not conscious of the possibility or need to make a moral choice.40 As animals are not conscious of their actions, they are consequently unable to move from the sphere of pure sense to a higher level of thinking and awareness. Against this background, Ghaza¯lı¯ postulates that people failing to make active use of their cognitive skills belong to a lower grade than beasts.41

Conclusion What distinguishes mankind from all other creatures and makes a human being valuable is that he/she is able to lead a moral life in this world and can decide to spread this way of living into the society. This distinguishing factor enables humans to elevate themselves and to rise to a higher level than angels or to degrade themselves and drop to a grade lower than animals. Ghaza¯lı¯, who places the heart at the centre of human existence, claims that this flexibility allows people to become the closest creature to Allah. The way to achieve and maintain this intimacy requires synchronous training and satisfaction of the soul, body, mind and heart. In a normative sense, the heart holds a particular importance in morals and values education. The heart, which witnesses the constant struggle between good and evil, can only possess the knowledge of good deeds through a proper education covering morals and values education. In suggesting an education centred on the heart, Ghaza¯lı¯ actually envisages an educational approach equipped with divine inspiration, enabling humans to know the one and only Allah first, to remember Him at all times and to always put Him in the centre at all stages of life. Ghaza¯lı¯ recalls the fact that morals and values education can be started at around the age of three. Never separating morals and values from religion, Ghaza¯lı¯ emphasises that the teaching of morals in conjunction with religious education should start at this age.

38 39 40 41

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r”, in: Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, p. 291. Qurʾa¯n 7:179. ¯ N, p. 231. Asad, The Message of THE QURʾA Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, “Misˇka¯t al-anwa¯r”, p. 291.

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Morals and values education are not independent of various temporary, unsteady states of the heart. Hence, the teaching of morals must be adapted to the changing state of the heart. The Qurʾa¯n and the hadı¯ths in particular provide ˙ numerous samples on the extremes of both positive and negative moral values. Appraised and denounced behaviours, potential personal and social consequences of this behaviour and relevant consequences for the life afterwards are examined in detail. Actual and fictional examples that children can take as role-models affect all elements of their development. As children invariably copy their elders, such role-models play a crucial role in their moral development. Ghaza¯lı¯, commenting that children are able to adopt such models and act accordingly later in life, suggests a morals and values education built into the framework of love, addressing all spheres of development without creating a sense of weariness on the part of the children.

Bibliography ¯ N, I˙¸saret Yayınları, Istanbul 2006. Asad, Muhammad, The Message of THE QURʾA Cevizci, Ahmet, Felsefe Tarihi, Say Yayınları, Istanbul 2009. Çiftçi, Nermin, “Kohlberg’in Bilis¸sel Ahlak Gelis¸imi Teorisi: Ahlak ve Demokrasi Eg˘itimi”, in: Deg˘erler Eg˘itimi Dergisi, 1 (1/2003), pp. 43–77. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Al-Arbaʿı¯n fı¯ usu¯l al-dı¯n, Da¯r al-Qalam, Beirut 2003. ˙ ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, “Bida¯yat al-hida¯ya”, in: Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, al˙ Maktaba al-Tawfı¯qiyya, Cairo 1422. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Da¯r al-Sadr, Beirut 2004. ˙ ˙ ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, “Kı¯miya¯ʾ al-saʿa¯da”, in: Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, al˙ Maktaba al-Tawfı¯qiyya, Cairo 1422. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Abu¯ Ha¯mid, “Mishka¯t al-anwa¯r”, in: Majmu¯ʿa¯t rasa¯ʾil al-ima¯m al-Ghaza¯lı¯, al˙ Maktaba al-Tawfı¯qiyya, Cairo 1422. Güngör, Erol, Ahlak Psikolojisi ve Sosyal Ahlak, Ötüken Yayınları, Istanbul 2000. Oruç, Cemil, “Gazâlî’de Ahlaki Deg˘erler Eg˘itimi”, in: TYB Akademi Dil Edebiyat ve Sosyal Bilimler Dergisi, 1 (1/2011), pp. 155–172. Oruç, Cemil, ˙Imam-ı Gazâlî’nin Eg˘itim Anlayıs¸ı, Yayımlanmamıs¸ Doktora Tezi, M.Ü. Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü, Istanbul 2009.

Sr. Marianne Farina, CSC1

Theological Ethics of Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-Ghaza¯lı¯ ˙

Perhaps, a fitting way to celebrate Imam Abu¯ Ha¯mid al-Ghaza¯lı¯ on this 900th ˙ anniversary is to reflect on a central theme of his teaching: that the essence of thought and action is the remembrance of God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ emphasised that Godconsciousness (taqwa¯) is essential to living one’s faith authentically. His major work Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n describes how remembrance of God helps believers ˙ cultivate a beautiful character (husn al-khulq). His ethics is a theological virtue ˙ ethics and differs from a divine command or deontological approach, which in current discourse dominates ideas about Islamic law and ethics. In his introduction to the Ihya¯ʾ, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ describes the ways all Islamic learning, not just ˙ legal rulings, form a science of practical religion. He maintained that this deep knowledge illumines the path to God and sustains those who embark upon it. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s writings focus on the inner dimensions of faith and practice, and the core of this dynamism is an encounter with the living God, who is the source and summit of all creation. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teaching draws from these theological foundations, especially those concerning the Unicity of God, tawh¯ıd. Remem˙ brance of God is more than a spiritual practice; it is a guide for believers that enables them to cultivate a beautiful character as they draw nearer to God. This paper examines al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s virtue theory and describes its theological form and content. The study aims to show that al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theological virtue ethics is a more honest and robust way to appreciate Islamic faith and practice. Such a revival of religious knowledge, worship and social action is not limited to al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s day. His ideas have much to offer to contemporary Muslim and nonMuslim societies. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics corresponds well with Christian theories of moral formation, especially in the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas. A review of their ethical theories reveals some common elements, even while theological differences remain. For example, Aquinas teaches that God’s grace, when generously given to believers, empowers them to specific excellences of thought and action. While al1 Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Cross.

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Ghaza¯lı¯ focuses on remembrance of God, Aquinas teaches about the virtue of charity, God’s friendship with believers. Yet both emphasise that character formation is not solely a human project but a development of human capacities in response to God’s initiatives. Such insights illustrate how comparisons of moral theory are resources for promoting a deeper understanding of one’s own tradition as well as fostering greater solidarity among religions. Too often have theological differences been a source of debate and contest. This study maintains that moral theology bridges some of these divisions. Moreover, the contours of each of our struggles to free ethics from consequentialist or rule-bound ethics point to a vision of goodness as the animator and sustainer of a believer’s journey towards God. The question to be explored then is in what way does remembrance of God, or friendship with God, become the vital form of religious faith, divine worship and social action? This paper will use a comparative theological approach developed by Frank Clooney, Jim Fredricks and David Burrell. In this model, we read critically the writings of prominent figures of a tradition and explore their teachings in ways that respect theological boundaries. The task is to provide an honest study that articulates differences between religions but is also open to learning based on the conviction that “we can receive wisdom – now even the wisdom of another tradition – as our wisdom too.”2 Though this paper focuses primarily on alGhaza¯lı¯’s theological ethics, the comparative component serves as an introduction for others to explore theological ideas in Islam and Christianity. The study begins by examining the roots of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theological ethics and virtue theory. The second section offers an analysis of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory based on his understanding of the form of virtue. The third section explores Christian theological ethics, specifically that of Thomas Aquinas. The fourth part of this discussion places the two theories in dialogue, identifying differences and similarities in these theories. The conclusion looks at areas for further exploration on this topic.

1.

A Case for Theological Virtue Ethics

The field of ethics encompasses various theories. Some look at consequences when evaluating moral action; others maintain that righteousness requires complying with set duties or law. There are those who focus on individual happiness as the ground of moral action; and others look to the common good of all, i. e. greatest happiness for the greatest number. Virtue theory addresses these 2 Francis X. Clooney, S.J., Comparative Theology: Deep Learning across Religious Borders, WileyBlackwell, Malden 2010, p. 59.

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insights, claiming that good character is essential to moral living. Virtue theory itself emerges from ancient Eastern and Western societies. The works of Greek philosophers, proponents of virtue theory, found their way into Islamic studies through translation projects. These ideas, along with the growth of esoteric writings, became resources for the development of Islamic teachings concerning faith and practice. Abu¯ Ha¯mid Muhammad al-Ghaza¯lı¯, born in 450/1058 in the village of Ghaza¯la ˙ ˙ near the city of Tu¯s in Iran, benefited from these developments. Having gained a solid foundation in the various fields of Islamic learning, he became the protégé of the famous theologian and scholar of the Sha¯fiʿı¯ school of Islamic law, the Ima¯m al-Haramayn Abu¯ʾl–Maʿa¯lı¯ ʿAbd al-Malik al-Juwaynı¯. In 1091, he was ˙ named professor in one of the greatest institutions of Sunni Muslim learning at that time, Niza¯miyya College in Baghdad. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s biography tells of the ˙ struggles he experienced in these endeavours and relates that he discovered the essence of all learning through these challenges; authentic knowledge of God, which God endows to the soul of the believer. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s virtue theory emerges from these studies and personal experience. He composed over seventy works, and each study draws from the resources of sacred sciences, philosophy, natural science and mysticism. His major work, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n (The Revival of Religious Sciences), along with its subsequent ˙ compendiums, offers us a systematic study of his virtue ethics.3

1.1

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Resources for Moral Teaching

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teaching about the moral life, as scholars note, displays a remarkable unity of thought.4 He classifies fields of learning according to their nature: theoretical (religious or theological) and practical (ethics [legal], politics, domestic/local concerns). Within these categories he also distinguishes the origin of this knowledge. Revealed science comes through the prophets and includes knowledge of sacred texts, religious practice and moral teachings. The second source of learning emerges with the application of human reason and produces various mundane fields of learning. All learning contributes to the common life in society (science of transactions), guidance within the Muslim community (science of rites, conduct of household and local customs) and the esoteric knowledge of the “unveiled”, i. e. revealing the essence of ultimate realities and an 3 Muhammad Abul Quasem, The Ethics of al-Ghazali: A Composite Ethics in Islam, Central Printing, Selangor/Malaysia 21978, p. 152. 4 Nabil Nofal, “Al-Ghazali”, in: Prospects: Quarterly Review of Comparative Education, vol. XXIII, no. 3/4, UNESCO: International Bureau of Education, Paris 1993, pp. 519–542, p. 527.

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intimate knowledge of God. This later knowledge comes to those whose hearts are purified so to be able to receive God’s light and is the supreme science of wisdom. In his moral teachings, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ does not quote philosophers directly. However, he includes practical philosophical ideas of Greek as well as Arabic thinkers.5 For example, the foundation for his ethics is Plato’s division of the soul’s faculties in rational, irascible and appetitive elements. Incorporating these views, he thus develops from Abu¯ ʿAlı¯ Miskawayh (d. 1030) and Abu¯ ʿAlı¯ b. Sı¯na¯ (d. 1037) a synthesis to describe habit, virtue and character.6 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ supplements these accounts with medical analogies, similar to those in Aristotle’s ethics. He discusses how to “cure” the lower powers of the soul in the process of refining character.7 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ focuses on describing how this essential “alchemy”, or science of the soul, leads to the perfection of one’s faith and practice, and therein the development of the authentic character that God desires for all humans.8 As Timothy J. Winter notes, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics achieve, “not the conversion of the ulema to Greek thought, but rather the long delayed, but very sophisticated, conversion of Plato and Aristotle to Islam.”9 With these efforts, he focused on the approach leaders should take to guiding the faithful to a more authentic living of Islam by teaching that knowledge and action are essential to staying on the straight path of seeking happiness with God. Also evident in the Ihya¯ʾ is al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s use of Sufi teachings and poetry. These ˙ writings capture the complex and esoteric dimensions of the spiritual journey. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ makes full use of this tradition in discussions concerning acquisition of wisdom and practices which aid to remove the barriers or veiling (kashf) between this world and God’s presence.10 Several books of the Ihya¯ʾ include ˙ poetry, especially Book XXXII, Kita¯b al-sabr wa’l-shukr.11 With these resources, ˙ 5 Timothy J. Winter in his Introduction to al-Ghaza¯lı¯, On Disciplining the Soul and On Breaking the Two Desires, Kita¯b Riya¯dat al-nafs & Kita¯b Kasr al-shahwatayn. Books XXII and XXIII of the Revival of the Religious˙ Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. T. J. Winter, Islamic Texts ˙ Society, Cambridge 1997, pp. i–lii. 6 Ibid., pp. lii, liii. 7 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul and On Breaking the Two Desires, Books XXII & XXIII, pp. 64– ˙ 66. 8 Quasem, The Ethics of al-Ghazali, p. 7. 9 Winter, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, On Disciplining the Soul and On Breaking the Two Desires, Books XXII & XXIII, p. lviii. 10 Al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart: Science of the Spirit, Kitab Sharh ʿAjaʾib al-Qalb. Book XXI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya ʿulum al-din, trans. with a Foreword by Walter James Skellie and an Introduction by Timothy J. Winter, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2010, p. 34. 11 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, On Patience and Thankfulness, Kita¯b al-sabr wa’l-shukr. Book XXXII of the Re˙

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al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethical writings address critical dimensions of persons’ maturity, i. e. physical, mental and spiritual, without sacrificing contemplation on the Unicity of God (tawh¯ıd) and Divine Action of God in creation. As shown in his life and in ˙ his learning, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s virtue theory is deeply theological. Focusing on Divine Activity in creation, he offered a comprehensive guide for those who seek to strengthen their commitment towards greater trust in God as they seek nearness to God.

2.

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Ethical Theory

Describing perfect happiness for human beings as drawing close to God and gazing upon God in the hereafter, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ teaches that only those who have acquired good character, especially as exemplified by “Master of Messengers and […] the most righteous actions of Truthful Saints” (Qurʾa¯n) 12 can reach it. The formation that helps a believer to develop beautiful character (husn al-khulq) ˙ requires cultivating right knowledge (ʿilm), good action (ʿamal), also understood as right activity (isla¯m), religious intelligence (ı¯ma¯n) and ethical integrity (ihsa¯n). These teachings emerge from the tradition of the hadı¯th of Jibrı¯l, which ˙ ˙ also describes moral excellence, as Sachiko Murata and William C. Chittick note: Isla¯m, or Sharı¯ʿa, is concerned with differentiating right activity from wrong activity and explaining how to do things correctly. ¯Ima¯n adds a dimension of understanding. It allows people to see that the meaning of the activity transcends the domain of everyday life and reaches into the divine reality. It lets them understand that everything in the universe is governed by tawh¯ıd, yet human ˙ freedom of choice upset the balance […]. Ihsa¯n adds to isla¯m and ¯ıma¯n a focus on intentionality. It directs human beings to ˙ reorient their desiring and their choosing on the awareness of God’s presence in all things.13

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics describes how cooperation with God’s initiatives can help persons perfect their character by acquiring virtue (fad¯ıla). Virtues inform ˙ choice, which leads to action, and develop by three principle ways: habituation, 14 learning and divine generosity. The process includes the use of reason (ʿaql), which includes understanding of revealed teachings, in the shaping of desires vival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with an Introduction by Henry T. Littlejohn, Islamic Texts Society,˙Cambridge 2010, p. 30. 12 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul, Book XXII, Prologue, pp. 3–6. ˙ 13 Sachiko Murata/William C. Chittick, Vision of Islam, Paragon Press, St. Paul 1994, p. 288. 14 Mohamed Sherif, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, New York State University Press, Albany 1975, p. 31.

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(hawa¯). Central here is the integration of the three domains mentioned above in ways that foster greater attentiveness to God [God-consciousness – (taqwa¯)]. Remembrance of God focuses a believer’s mind and heart on the true goal of human existence (perfect/supernatural happiness with God) and helps them balance the needs, concerns and duties of everyday life according to this goal.15 In this way, believers open themselves to God’s transforming action on the soul (hayʾa ra¯sikha fi n-nafs), producing the beautiful character (husn al-khulq): ˙ A trait of character, then, is a firmly established condition (hayʾa) of the soul, from which actions proceed easily without any need for thinking or forethought. If this condition is disposed towards the production of the beautiful and praiseworthy deeds, as these are acknowledged by the Law (al-sharʾ) and the intellect, it is termed a ‘good character trait’; if, however, ugly acts proceed from it, the condition is known as ‘bad character trait’.16

The structure of the Ihya¯ʾ as a whole is the model of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theological ˙ virtue ethical theory. First, there is the overall organisation of the Ihya¯ʾ, which ˙ builds on the internal organisation of each exposition, i. e. specific books (kita¯b). This organisation begins with knowledge of God, unfolds with guidance on specific ways to remember God in thought and action, and concludes describing the realisation of ultimate happiness in the vision of God. Secondly, Remembrance of God animates the Ihya¯ʾ’s specific content in that remembrance is the ˙ form of all virtues. It is the heart of actions seeking happiness: acquiring a beautiful character and drawing nearer to God, whose vision is “supreme height and the greatest good, and the very limit of bliss.”17

15 Here I am speaking specifically about his works such as Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n; Miza¯n el-ʿamal; ˙ Kı¯mı¯ya¯ʾ al-saʿa¯da. 16 Winter, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart, Book XXI, p. 17. The word “trait” is used to describe the state, a good or bad quality. Both Winter and Quasem in their commentaries note that this definition of character agrees with the earlier Islamic writer Miskawayh in his Tahd¯ıb. Miskawayh seems to have followed Galen, as stated by Richard ¯ Walzer in: “New light on Galen’s Moral Philosophy”, in his Greek into Arabic: Essays on Islamic Philosophers, Harvard University Press, Cambridge 1962, p. 147. Like al-Ghaza¯lı¯, al-Isfaha¯nı¯ was also influenced by the definition of character given by the philosophers. These˙earlier teachers sought to distinguish between the terms of virtue, morals, manners etc., whereas for al-Ghaza¯lı¯ it seems this definition serves both purposes: defining virtue as character “traits”. He does distinguish between one aspect of character/virtue (hulq) and several aspects or virtues (ahla¯q) – all of which form “good character” (husn al-h˘ulq). ˙ Kitab ˘ dhikr al-mawt wa-ma¯ baʿ17 Al-Ghaza¯lı˘¯, The Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife, dahu. Book XL of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with an Introduction by Timothy J. Winter, Islamic Texts Society, ˙Cambridge 1995, p. 251.

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Structure of the Ihya¯ʾ ˙

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ says that he modelled the Ihya¯ʾ on books of jurisprudence as well as ˙ “tables of health” described in studies of medicine.18 The purpose of this design is to enable readers to discover the inner meaning of Islamic teachings and practices so that by means of his elucidations they might discover the proper treatment of heart and the gaining of right types of knowledge, tutoring of emotions and cultivation of actions (worship and duties) which lead to nearness of God in this life and fulfilment of this intimacy in the hereafter. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ divided the Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n into four quarters (rubʿ) and each ˙ quarter into ten books (kita¯b). The first and second quarter address the prescribed religious devotions and moral duties and ways these practices can form good character. These books stress the importance of knowledge and faith and how religious practices (ʿiba¯da¯t) and fulfilment of social duties (ʿa¯da¯t) lead to good character. These are the “sciences” of outward form or activity that express the way believers have internalised an authentic commitment to God. The third and fourth quarter books contain instructions about the cultivation of virtues and the avoidance of vices which keep believers from achieving a higher state and station in their character development. This is the science of purifying the soul, which enables the believers’ love for God to flourish. Another important aspect of the Ihya¯ʾ’s structure is the organisation of the ˙ content in the books themselves. Each book includes several religious “lessons” directed at those seeking to develop good character. In each of these books, the discussion opens with passages from the Qurʾa¯n and hadı¯th, and with sayings of ˙ the first Muslims to support his recommendations. These insights also offer corrections to, or further elucidations on, the religious teachings held by earlier leaders (ʿulama¯ʾ). Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ then proceeds to offer a new analysis of the topic, using philosophical and mystical teachings. He clarifies his position by illuminating which philosophical principles are “sound”, especially as they are commensurate or an aid to discovering the teachings of the Prophet, Sharı¯ʿa, specific rulings of the Sha¯fiʿı¯ legal school of thought or Sufi practices. For example, when describing the fundamental noble traits of character, he identifies four principle virtues: wisdom, courage, temperance and justice. The key here is to seek knowledge of God’s will in hope of a direct experience of God. As will be shown below, in his exposition he clearly draws from philosophy, especially Aristotle, when describing the human soul’s powers, i. e. rational, irascible and concupiscent, and how justice fittingly orders these faculties.

18 Winter in his Introduction to al-Ghaza¯lı¯: The Remembrance of Death, Book XL, pp. xiii–xxx.

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Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ brings both of these teachings together by explaining how knowledge of religious law helps a person to strive for particular balance of each virtue and therein the perfecting of the soul’s powers. He concludes with a reflection on how Prophet Muhammad, as the only person who reached perfection in this striving, should inspire believers to seek these virtues.19 In each book al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains ways in which believers might attain greater awareness of God as they engage in extraordinary spiritual disciplines, a type of introduction to the mystical path. An example of this type of instruction is alGhaza¯lı¯’s book on fasting, which lays down basic practices leading to greater sacrifices of comfort for the sake of deeper spiritual awakening.20 Finally, there is an overarching design to the Ihya¯ʾ. The arch of development ˙ begins with Book 1 of Quarter I on knowledge and concludes in Book XL on remembrance of God and the hereafter, where al-Ghaza¯lı¯ summarises his project: God, (Exalted is He) has said, ‘For those that wrought good shall be the greatest good, and even more.’ This ‘even more’ is the Vision of the Divine Countenance, which is the greatest of all delights, and which shall cause no one to be quite oblivious of the pleasures of the people of heaven.21

The teleological emphasis illustrates al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s conviction that all action begins with contemplation on the Unicity of God, tawh¯ıd. Using the theme of these two ˙ books, each volume of Ihya¯ʾ offers specific guidance on the means to acquire the ˙ virtues which sustain the love as believers seek perfect happiness in the vision of God.22

2.2

Form of the Virtues

The second key aspect of the Ihya¯ʾ’s structure is al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teaching on re˙ membrance of God. It is the essential aspect of his moral teachings, within which we might say that remembrance of God is the form of all virtue. The notion of the “form” comes from philosophical distinctions and is especially gleaned from Aristotle’s theory. In his writings on causality, he speaks of the following four causes: material cause: “that out of which something comes to be”; formal cause: “the account of what-it–is-to-be”; efficient cause: “the primary source of the change or rest”; and final cause: “the end, that for the sake of which a thing is done”. 19 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul, Book XXII, p. 23. ˙ 20 Al-Ghaza ¯ lı¯, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Quarter I, Book 6, trans. by Muhtar Holland, in: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, ˙ Inner Dimensions of Islamic Worship, The Islamic Foundation, Markfield 2002, pp. 75–80. 21 Ihya¯ʾ, The Remembrance of Death, Book XL, p. 250. ˙ 22 Ibid.

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Formal causality describes the very nature of the reality by which a thing is the sort of thing it is. This nature-reality must also correspond to the final cause, the goal of its existence. In the case of human beings, it is said that the substantial form is the intellectual soul. As creatures possessing reason, we find fulfilment in the realisation of our capacity to grasp truth, make judgements and act according to our deliberations. The final cause is the goal of fulfilling this nature by attaining perfect wisdom. In Aristotle’s ethics, the form of the virtue could be characterised as right practical reason, phronesis.23 He believed that excellences or virtues are those actions that strike the mean between two extremes of possible actions. Humans who possess virtue flourish because when presented with various situations, they possess a disposition (hexis) to act and feel in fitting ways.24 Reflecting on human nature in light of Islamic teachings, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains that believers flourish when they become more able to contemplate the One who brought them into being. In other words, our formal cause describes a rational soul capable of God-consciousness. Perfection of human beings, or possessing a beautiful character, is a full realisation of this capacity. Accordingly, our final cause is the continuation of the intellectual consciousness of God as nearness to God in eternity. As noted above, to speak of a beautiful character means that persons possess virtue. In specific ways, each virtue fosters a deepening of persons’ recollection of God and their awareness of God’s blessings in a particular sphere of activity. Various books of the Ihya¯ʾ address the special benefits of reaching greater depths ˙ of character growth. These are: steadfast gratitude to God, seeking forgiveness from God and love for God. Of course, a question remains about interpreting al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s virtue theory using notions of causality, given the numerous debates about his position regarding direct human causality. However, even if we accept that God is the source of each cause, believers learn to cooperate with this Divine initiative. Therefore, we can locate in his teachings a formal cause of the virtues. On this side of the eternal paradise, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ believed that remembrance of God reveals to humans their essential natures, i. e. beings who draw near to God through virtuous activity. To explore this further, the next chapters examine what al-Ghaza¯lı¯ means by remembrance of God and its corollary, God-consciousness (taqwa¯).

23 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics II, 6, 11106a, 15–14, trans. and with commentary by Sarah Broadie/Christopher Rowe, Oxford University Press, New York 2002. 24 Ibid., 301, 1105b, 19–1106a, 13.

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2.2.1 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Remembrance of God In Book XXI of the Ihya¯ʾ, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states that believers require certain types of ˙ knowledge in order to fulfil their calling as Muslims before God and in the community. He lists five obstacles such knowledge can overcome: personal imperfections, dullness, distractions, immature faith, i. e. blind obedience to teachings, and ignorance of the true source of knowledge.25 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ emphasises how mindfulness of God, through remembrance, is critical to overcoming these impediments. Muslims need the discipline of “remembering God” so that they can become more attentive to the Divine initiatives in their own lives and in the world and therein gain certain knowledge of these realities. In the Qurʾa¯n, humans are invited to “remember God” and all God’s works as well as to not “forget God”.26 They are asked to constantly be mindful of God, even after the ritual prayer, and they should be vigilant in not letting anything prevent them from remembering God.27 To remember is to learn about God and God’s creation, and God’s action in human history. This knowledge helps believers to realise the truth about their natures: their origin from God and their call to nearness, or oriented-ness, to God. When al-Ghaza¯lı¯ speaks about “remembrance of God”, he recognises how mindfulness of God, God-consciousness, helps believers move beyond the mere recitation of words or performing of actions in ritual prayers or when fulfilling social obligations. It is a superior form of knowing because it integrates religious and general knowledge.28 This knowledge is essential to developing the good-beautiful character (husn al˙ khulq), that state in which “[he] finds his heaven in the contemplation of Eternal 29 Beauty […].” Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ often quotes the Tradition that says, “He who professes single-heartedly, ‘There is no god but God’, will enter paradise.”30 When believers fix their minds on God, their words and action are “before God”, and they remain open to the ways God shapes their heart. In his teachings about “remembering God”, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ includes recommendations concerning the devotional exercises of dhikr.31 He offers descriptions about the theoretical and practical aspects of these practices. In fact, Book IX of 25 Ihya¯ʾ, The Marvels of the Heart, Book XXI, p. 36–38. ˙ 26 Kojiro Nakamura in his Introduction to al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Invocations & Supplications, Kita¯b aladhka¯r wa’l-daʿawa¯t. Book IX of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, ˙ trans. K. Nakamura, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 1996, p. xxiii. 27 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ in ibid., p. xxvii. 28 Nakamura in ibid., “Introduction”, pp. xxiv–xxvi. 29 Al-Ghazza¯lı¯, The Alchemy of Happiness, (Kı¯miya¯-yi saʿa¯dat), trans. by Claud Field, M.E. Sharpe, Armonk 1991, p. 3. 30 This hadı¯th is located in Abu¯ l-Qa¯sim at-Tabara¯nı¯, Al-Muʿjam al-kabı¯r, no. 5074, Da¯r al˙ al-Riya¯d 1993. ˙ ˙ Ra¯yah, ˙ 31 Winter, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart, Book XXI, p. xxviii.

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the Ihya¯ʾ is a detailed explication of them. However, this treatment is not the only ˙ one al-Ghaza¯lı¯ offers about dhikr. A brief survey illustrates how the practices fit into his overall teaching about virtue. Dhikr has a deep heritage in the Islamic tradition. As Kojiro Nakamura points out, the word itself derives from the verb dhakara, which means to “remember and recall” as well as to “mention and utter”.32 The practices emerge from the ways believers, pious Muslims as well as members of Sufi orders, accepted the mandate to “remember God”. It includes various forms of mental and vocal dhikr in hopes of removing sin and encouraging attentiveness to thoughts of God in hopes of attaining a mystical experience (fana¯ʾ).33 In his writings, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ explains the five forms of these two basic types and the important benefits each holds.34 In Book IX, he addresses these disciplines specifically. Each practice reminds believers of the source and summit of virtuous activity indicative of good character. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ believes that, Invocation has both a beginning and an end. The beginning of it requires intimacy and love, and the end of it is required by intimacy and love, and is produced by these. The aim [of invocation] is this [latter] intimacy and love.35

These exercises focus the believer’s mind on God, thus avoiding distractions of this world and its gains or glories.36 They also serve to prevent evil influences and protect believers from a type of heedlessness (ghafla) of God that will abort both progress towards nearness to God and cultivation of good character. Here al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s psychology concerning virtue is clearly illustrated. He notes that in life persons might speak well of others, observing their good qualities, and that if they do this continuously, they begin to develop a relationship to them. They may also begin to love them. This pattern occurs in the practice of contemplation on God and the Divine qualities. These practices can produce a desire for God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ reminds his readers that when the novice exerts himself to turn his heart towards God, a critical aspect to removing evil from the heart and towards acquiring good habits, the invocation implants in the believer’s heart love for the One invoked.37

32 33 34 35 36 37

Nakamura, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Invocations & Supplications, Book IX, p. xx. Ibid., p. xxi. Ibid., p. xxii. Ihya¯ʾ, Invocations & Supplications, Book IX, p. 1. ˙ Al-Ghaza ¯ lı¯, Inner Dimensions of Islamic Worship, p. 43. Ihya¯ʾ, Invocations & Supplications, Book IX, p. 1. ˙

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2.2.2 Remembrance of God and Character Formation The thesis of this paper is that remembrance of God is the form of the virtues in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teachings, specifically in his Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n. Two aspects are key ˙ to this thesis: How the overall structure of the Ihya¯ʾ focuses on remembrance of ˙ God and the specific practices al-Ghaza¯lı¯ identifies to be essential to character formation. As noted above, the overall structure of the Ihya¯ʾ contains four major sections. ˙ Each quarter serves as a moral itinerary that leads to greater awareness of God and nearness to God. The first two books of Quarter I serve as the hermeneutic for discovering the essential elements of moral-spiritual development. Through knowledge and faith a believer comes to realise the inner dimensions of worship and ethical actions. The inner dimension consists of mindfulness of God as a deeper God-consciousness (taqwa¯). The final quarters of the text are an intensification of the journey begun with the learning and practices of the first part of Ihya¯ʾ. In fact, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states in his introduction that the pattern of his study ˙ is modelled on “the science of revelation and practical religion”, with the latter leading to God’s revelation and truth about this world and the next. Besides this over-arching structure, Ihya¯ʾ also displays a specific teleology. ˙ The goal of the moral life is to bring the believer into a fuller awareness of God, who is the source and summit of existence. As mentioned before, the Ihya¯ʾ begins ˙ with Book I – knowledge of God – and concludes with Book XL – the remembrance of death and the afterlife. This sequence is chosen because Islam teaches the goal of the moral-spiritual life. In very graphic terms of the final state in the grave, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ reminds believers that it is not the material welfare that concerns us but the ways that the remembered God has occupied the forefront of our thoughts: For in truth the love of anything other than God shall bar one from meeting with Him and the joy that therein consists […] But as for the man who did not find his consolation in this world, and who loved none save God, and yearned for meeting Him: he has escaped the prison of this world and the vicissitudes of the desires which lie therein. He has come to his Beloved, all barriers and distractions are cut away; bliss is his abundantly, never to pass away in all eternity. For likes of this then, let those who would work, work! 38

Developing good character requires excellences or virtues, and the heart of this task is to learn ways to maintain God-consciousness from this life to the next. These teachings are foundational for al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s virtue theory. However, this single central focus is not reductionist but only a touchstone for a complex and comprehensive virtue ethics. As noted above, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ideas emerge from 38 Ihya¯ʾ, The Remembrance of Death, Book XL, p. 141. ˙

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studies of jurisprudence, philosophy and theology. They also display a substantial understanding of human psychology and pedagogy.39 According to each stage of moral development, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ specifies not only the practices as listed in the forty books of Ihya¯ʾ but within these texts identifies key virtues to cultivate ˙ and vices to avoid. From this material, we can identify three basic categories of virtue in al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory: Philosophical, Religious-Legal and Mystical.40 Each category exhibits the particular expressions of the essential form of virtuous life, i. e. remembrance of God. The philosophical virtues of wisdom [herein included is prudence], temperance and fortitude help believers to balance the various powers or appetites of the human soul. In some works, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ lists the three cardinal virtues, prudence, fortitude and temperance, as a means for overcoming the vices of ignorance and foolishness, weakness and laxity as well as lust and gluttony. The “right balance” struck by the working of these virtues is the means by which justice can be acquired. It is important in character formation to seek equilibrium between the two extremes of possible actions.41 This is the work of the rational faculty and the fruit of training the right ways of gaining knowledge. The goal is to come to a fuller realisation of the goodness of human nature and its capacities to flourish. Remembrance of God is not absent here. In fact, only when believers turn away from worshipping material success, i. e. worldly aims, will they find true happiness. The process begins with the right knowledge of God’s will, one’s self and the world. Once in possession of this knowledge, persons can direct their actions towards the right goal (perfect [supernatural] happiness with God) and the right path (as-sira¯t al-mustaqı¯m [straight path to heavenly reward]). The virtue of ˙˙ ˙ temperance and courage, especially in disciplining the two desires for food and sex, helps believers to understand how the various goods of creation and their corollary experiences have their proper place in relation to realising happiness with God.42 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ expresses sharp criticism for a person’s fascination with mundane sources of happiness and in such cases recommends strict discipline, even for children, to root out desires focused only on reaching satisfaction or happiness in this world. In addition, he also suggests ways in which people’s capacity of spiritual discernment can be sharpened. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ lists a number of ways a child can learn, become aware of social manners and condition the body so that these initial inclinations towards proper conduct become “powerful and 39 See Laleh Bakhtiar, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghazzali, On Disciplining the Self, trans. by Muhammad Nur Abdus Salam, Great Books of the Islamic World Series, Kazi Publications, Chicago 2002, pp. 1–24; Sherif, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, pp 48–58. 40 Sherif, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, pp. 24, 77, 105. 41 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul, Book XXII, p. 31. ˙ 42 Ibid., p. 33.

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wholesome effect[s] which will leave an impact on his heart like an inscription on a stone.”43 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ says about these disciplines that when a believer “has cleared the field, the sowing of the seed begins. The seed is the remembrance of God most High […].”44 Moral education is key to this process. Believers who acquire these virtues pursue only praiseworthy actions, thereby readying themselves for the next stage of their moral-spiritual growth. As al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states, “religious traits of character cannot take firm root in the soul until it has grown accustomed to every good habit, renounced every evil one, and persevered in beautiful deeds.”45 Believers from their youth on begin to understand life’s true aim, especially in gaining various types of knowledge and use of prudence. Throughout the Ihya¯ʾ, ˙ al-Ghaza¯lı¯ notes that knowledge is an excellence possessing intrinsic value; however, the praiseworthy sciences are those that help believers to choose actions based on the knowledge of Divine truths, which perfect the heart and is the source of all happiness, especially with God in the afterlife.46 Based on this conviction, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ develops a hierarchy of knowledge and identifies three stages of guidance.47 It begins with jurisprudence or knowledge of actions and leads to knowledge of divine realities, which includes knowledge of the essence of the tawh¯ıd, which he describes as “a precious fruit encased in two ˙ husks”, the outer being verbal profession, the inner being belief in this truth. The fourth form of knowing is dhikr, or remembrance of God, and this knowing that leads to wisdom (hikma), God revealing divine truth to the believer, is the only ˙ truly praiseworthy science. In the higher form of this stage, reserved to prophets, special revelation comes directly from God. Philosophical virtues prepare believers for these advanced stages of acquired knowledge, which is the fruit of religious-ethical virtue. The religious virtues are divine guidance (hida¯ya), good counsel (rushd), direction (tasdı¯d) and support (taʾyı¯d). As theological virtues they draw believers ˙ nearer to God by means of God’s grace. Accordingly, they facilitate a believer’s adherence to spiritual duties (ʿiba¯da¯t) and social responsibilities (ʿa¯da¯t) in ways that help them encounter God.48 They can continue to protect believers from base desires, whose root, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ says, is the obsessive love of the earthly world.49 43 44 45 46 47 48

Ibid., p. 80. Al-Ghazzali, On Disciplining the Self, p. 62. Ibid., p. 63. Ibid., p. 32. Quasem, The Ethics of al-Ghazali, p. 61. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teaching emphasises the need for transforming the heart, for a Muslim believes that the heart is the human dwelling place of the good that originates in God. In Ihya¯ʾ alGhaza¯lı¯ writes: “The heart is such that if man knows it, he indeed knows himself, he˙indeed knows his Lord. It is also the heart which, if a man does not know it, he indeed knows not himself: and if he knows not himself, he indeed knows not his lord – and one who knows not

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These virtues are the excellences with which believers travel the “straight way” to perfect happiness. Deepening awareness of God in these endeavours can lead to a “taste” (dhawq) of this happiness. God becomes truly present in everyday activities of fulfilling one’s social duties in the community and in worship of God. Those who acquire these virtues have moved beyond simple obedience to God’s commands. Believers learn to remember God by placing oneself before God, attentively and purposefully, and these activities become a foundation for their worship of God and ethical action: commitment to personal and social responsibilities as directed by Sharı¯ʿa. In speaking about the ritual prayer as the chief pillar of beliefs, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states that: You may say that I am going against the consensus of the jurists, if I make the validity of Prayer dependent on conscious awareness, since they stipulate such attention only at the initial ‘Alla¯hu Akbar!’ But the jurists do not concern themselves with the inner life or the way of the Hereafter. […] In short, conscious awareness is the very spirit of ritual Prayer […].50

In his writing about ethical duties, this remembrance of God leads to fulfilling a general principle of al-Ghaza¯lı¯ regarding social action that “in all dealings with people, treat them as you would be pleased to be treated by them, because faith of a worshipper is not complete until he loves for others what he does for himself […].”51 Here we see how remembrance of God is not only the goal but the means through which these “wholesome deeds” or “religiously prescribed and approved habits” help believers on their way to cultivate good character and perfect happiness. Regarding the mystical virtues, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ draws from the tradition of Sufi teachers concerning “stations” of spiritual perfection. The first virtue is repentance (tawba); with this virtue, the wayfarer progresses to the highest virtue, love (mahabba). Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ also lists mystical virtues that support this progress: ˙ greater resolve or intention (niyya), sincerity (ikhla¯s), truthfulness [as related to ˙ resolution (ʿazm)], vigilance (mura¯qaba) and meditation (tafakkur). These virtues are the means for deeper intimacy with God and further moral-spiritual growth.

his heart, is even more ignorant of other things.” See al-Ghazali, Kitab Sharh ʿAjaʾib al-Qalb [The Book of the Marvels of the Heart], Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Quarter III, Book 1, trans. by ˙ Richard J. McCarthy, in: Ilse Lichtenstadter/Richard J. McCarthy (eds.), Deliverance from Error, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2004, p. 310. 49 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul, Book XXII, p. 69. ˙ 50 Translation of Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, Quarter I, Book 4, by Muhtar Holland, in: Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Inner ˙ Dimensions of Islamic Worship, pp. 36–37. 51 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Duties of Brotherhood in Islam, trans. from the Ihya¯ʾ by Muhtar Holland, Quarter II, Book 5, The Islamic Foundation, Markfield 1975, p. 22.˙

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Special spiritual practices also help believers to develop greater trust in God and lead to greater sanctification. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ teaches that as trust in God deepens, so does love: “[T]awakkul consists in the heart’s relying on the trustee [wakı¯l] alone.”52 Fidelity to God’s law and cultivation of God-consciousness (taqwa¯) mark believers’ journey towards perfect happiness, as al-Ghaza¯lı¯ states: “The ultimate rule of perfection of the servant of God is that the love of God Most High triumph in his heart, so that his totality is engulfed in this love.”53 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ further explains that this stage of perfection nurtures a believer’s love for God, for: “[B]elievers participate in the ground of love (asl al-hubb) ˙ ˙ because they share in the ground of belief (asl al-ima¯n)”.54 Emulating, to the ˙ extent humans can, of the divine traits is key to these efforts: “You should be characterised by the characteristics of God the Most High.”55 Believers who seek to emulate such character respond to God’s will unconditionally, possessing a pure selfless love of God and a heart full of peace. The instructions he offers on these spiritual disciplines help to mould a believer’s character according to divine traits: “The nearest of all creatures to God are those who follow in his footsteps through assuming the traits of his noble character.”56 In this way, the mystical virtues are excellences that create a fusion of the inner and outward aspects of believers’ thoughts and actions. God’s own unity (tawh¯ıd) is the centre of en˙ counter. Margaret Smith discusses the possibility of such union, stating that: When the mystic enters into the pure and absolute Unicity of the One and into the Kingdom of the One and Alone, mortals reach the end of their ascent. For there is no ascent beyond it, since ascent involves multiplicity, implying, as it does an ascent from somewhere and an ascent to somewhere, and when multiplicity has been eliminated, Unity is established and relationship ceases, signs are effaced, there remains neither height nor depth, nor one to descend or ascend. No higher ascent for the soul is possible […] those who have passed into the unitive life have attained unto a Being transcending all that can be apprehended but sight or insight […] there remains only the One, the 52 Al-Ghazali, Faith in Divine Unity and Trust in Divine Providence, Kitab al-tawhid wa’ltawakkul. Book XXXV of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihyaʾ ʿulum al-din, trans. with an Introduction by David B. Burrell, CSC, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2001, p. 56. 53 Al-Ghazzali, On Love, Longing and Contentment, (Alchemy of Happiness, Part IV), trans. by Muhammad Nur Abdus Salam, Great Books of the Islamic World Series, Kazi Publications, Chicago 2002, p. 15. In this passage, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ refers to the outline of his major work Ihya¯ʾ ˙ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n. A more detailed presentation of this work and its connection to moral-spiritual formation is presented below. 54 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Love, Longing, Intimacy and Contentment, Kita¯b al mahabba wa’l-shawq wa’l-uns wa’l-rida¯. Book XXXVI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯˙ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with ˙ ˙ an Introduction by Eric Ormsby, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2011, p. 78. 55 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God, al-Maqsad al-asna¯ fı¯ sharh asma¯ʾ Alla¯h al-husna¯, trans. by David B. Burrell, CSC/Nazih Daher, Islamic˙ Texts Society, Cambridge 1997, ˙ Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ is quoting the Prophet’s saying in this text. p. 153. 56 Ihya¯ʾ, On Disciplining the Soul, Book XXII, p. 14. ˙

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Real, and the meaning of His Word: ‘All things perish save his Countenance’ is known by experience.57

As noted earlier, in order to possess good character the believer must nurture deeper God-consciousness (taqwa¯); this final stage being the fulfilment of all virtuous actions. Looking into al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics, we can see that each type of virtue is a specific instantiation of God-consciousness in the province of a type of knowledge which informs religious and social duties. Therefore, ascetical spiritual practices are not the only means to bring believers to a deeper spiritual growth. The philosophical and religious virtues cultivate human nature according to God’s gift of original faculties, divine guidance and assistance. Believers become aware of God through God’s blessings. They use these gifts according to the teachings of the Tradition and therein intensify their remembrance of God. The mystical virtues are an exponential experience of these gifts. God gives to the believer a direct experience of God’s presence. Each type of virtue offers a particular way in which this remembrance of God develops. Ultimately, all three sets of virtues direct persons to transformation of the soul (hayʾa ra¯sikha fi n-nafs) so that they might experience nearness to God in this life and anticipate happiness with God in the hereafter. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ maintains that this growth increases not only the believer’s ability to remember God, but it also increases the bonds of community by learning how to be effective communicators and collaborators in the cause of righteousness. As Laleh Bakhtiar notes, the goal of spiritual training is, according to al-Ghaza¯lı¯, that “believers should conceivably be master communicators on all three levels – with self, with others and with the Source. [For] how we communicate determines the quality of our lives.”58 Cultivating good character includes concern for becoming the most faithful and beautiful of God’s servants in order to help create the most beautiful community. In this way, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n is an exposition ˙ of the inner meaning of Sharı¯ʿa. Law then is more than a command demanding obedience. In al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics, it is a grace for those who seek to walk the path to salvation. They form a community of witnesses and warning that remembrance of God, God-consciousness (taqwa¯), should animate human thought and

57 Margaret Smith, Readings from the Mystics of Islam, Luzac and Company Ltd., London 1972, pp. 70–71. This work provides Professor Smith’s translation of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al˙ dı¯n. 58 Laleh Bakhtiar in her Introduction to al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s On Disciplining the Self, p. 16. Also note that al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s teachings draw from Sufi itineraries concerning personal developments according to spiritual stages and states of growth as well as deepening levels of certainty (yaqı¯n) acquired by persons seeking knowledge to cultivate virtue.

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action. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theological ethics is a proclamation and a plan for embodying the truth that there is “no god, but God”.59 Having explored al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics, the following section will place his teachings into dialogue with Christian virtue theory. The discussion includes two parts. First, the Christian theological ethics will be examined using the virtue theory of Thomas Aquinas as a model, followed by an analysis and description of the differences and similarities between the teachings of Aquinas and al-Ghaza¯lı¯ concerning theological ethics and character formation.

3.

Christian Theological Ethics

In recent years, there has been great interest in Christian virtue theory. New readings of the classical traditions have accompanied these inquiries. One important scholar in these studies is Servais Pinckaers, who emphasises that an understanding of virtue and the process of moral formation must draw from all sources of Christian ethics: Scripture, dogma [law], spirituality and human sciences. He notes that the teaching about moral life must reconnect with a “spiritual spontaneity within the human heart, under the action of the Holy Spirit, through faith in Christ.”60 The writings of Thomas Aquinas are central to these explorations. As Stephen Pope observes, “Aquinas thought about moral questions in light of God, grace, and the sacraments.”61 Fergus Kerr states that Aquinas’s moral theology is an “ethics of divine beatitude” that moves beyond virtue theory and considers a being’s movement into God, realising perfect happiness with God in the hereafter (beatitudo).62 Thomas O’ Meara describes Aquinas’s theological ethics as an “anthropology of grace”, wherein God’s grace animating the Christian moral life is its distinctive quality.63 Charity, as the form of all virtues, is the touchstone of this encounter through which God befriends the believer. Aquinas’s virtue theory is fundamentally theological and engages a number of resources in the development of a complex and comprehensive moral theory.

59 This is the confession of faith proclaimed by Muslims: “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is God’s messenger.” 60 Servais Pinckaers, Sources of Christian Ethics, Catholic University of America Press, Washington 1995, p. xx. 61 Stephen Pope (ed.), The Ethics of Aquinas, Georgetown University Press, Washington 2002, p. 31. 62 Fergus Kerr, After Aquinas, Blackwell Publishing, Malden 2002, p. 114. 63 Thomas O’ Meara, O.P., “Virtues in the Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas”, in: Theological Studies, (58) 1997, pp. 254–285, p. 269.

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Thomas Aquinas’s Ethics

In his writings, Aquinas states clearly that the focus of his efforts is theological: “My principle aim in life […] is that all of my words and sentiments speak of God.”64 The goal of moral science is to place one’s life in relationship to God within a “well-defined participation”65, which begins with happiness in this life (felicitas) and culminates with beatitudo: direct vision of God and superabundant perfect happiness in eternity.66 Though the scope of this paper does not allow for an in-depth study of Thomas Aquinas’s ethical theory, it is important to glean from his theory two important features: these are, first, the overall scheme of his project and resources that served his writings on ethics and, secondly, his study of virtues, which draws from beliefs about God, Jesus Christ and the work of Divine Providence as well as from law, grace and sacraments. 3.1.1 Resources and Plan Thomas Aquinas has left us with a rich library of writings. His treatises on Scripture, theological disputations and systematic summaries of faith aimed to help in the training of teachers and preachers of his day. He was convinced that short summaries of religious teachings were insufficient and that a more detailed account of “sacred doctrine”, even for beginners, was essential to their preparation as pastors entrusted with the responsibility of guiding believers to an authentic life of faith and worship. In his Summa Theologiae, dedicated to this mission of forming preachers and confessors, he presents God as the first subject of the study, and in respect to this Divine reality (Prima Pars) all the rest, i. e. the economy of Divine goodness “going out” in the act of creation and “returning” to God through the gift of redemption, finds its place (Secunda Pars and Tertia Pars). Aquinas states that: All things in sacra doctrine are considered from the point of view of God. It is either God himself, or about the things in measure in which they have God as their sources and their end. It follows that God is truly the subject of this science.67

64 St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles, Part I, Chapter One, trans. by Vernon Bourke/ Charles O’Neil, Hanover House, Garden City 1956, p. 10. 65 Marie-Dominique Chenu, O.P., Aquinas and His Role in Theology, Liturgical Press, Collegeville 2002, p. 97. 66 St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Part I, 111.1., trans. by Fathers of the English Dominican Province, Benziger Brothers, New York 1947. This is the translation that will be cited throughout this chapter. 67 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Ia, Question 1, Article 7.

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For this reason, we cannot separate Aquinas’s ethical theory from his discussion about God, and to fully understand his moral theology means to see it in light of its contemplative aim, i. e. “directed by considerations about God”.68 Aquinas draws from the writings of philosophers and theologians. As Servais Pinckaers notes, the Summa constitutes, “a convergence of all the great currents of thought known in the thirteenth century.”69 Aquinas cites various “authorities” and notes that they serve an epistemological purpose, seeing as their findings do not dictate incontestable propositions but inspire inquirers to seek truth in the province of what reason may grasp and revelation illuminates. The first source for Aquinas’s ethics is theological. Scripture, which is the esteemed source, and the writings of the Church Fathers, especially St. Augustine and other authors (quidam and aliqui), are the font from which he draws his ideas. The second source is human reason, especially articulated through philosophy, with Aristotle his principal interlocutor.70 Aquinas’s ethical theory integrates these two resources in ways that draw out fundamental harmonies between revelation and reason. For example, Aquinas accepts Aristotle’s understanding of hylomorphism and his notion that the rational soul is the substantial form of human beings. He is also indebted to Aristotle’s study of virtue and friendship in his descriptions of moral excellence and happiness. However, Aquinas’s theological foundation offers a Christian perspective for these theories: humans are made in God’s image and are called to friendship with God in this life and perfect happiness with God in heaven.

3.1.2 Thomas Aquinas and Virtue Aquinas’s ethical theory identifies two basic categories of virtues: the acquired (natural virtues) and the infused (supernatural virtues). The acquired virtues consist of intellectual and moral virtues. The intellectual virtues consist of two types: the speculative and the practical. There are three virtues of the speculative intellect: understanding (intellectus), science (scientia: a habit of conclusions) and wisdom (sapientia),71 and two virtues of the practical intellect: art (ars) and prudence (prudentia).72 The speculative intellectual virtues consider truth itself.73 The practical intellectual virtues guide human choice, the decision to act either 68 Jean-Pierre Torrell, O.P., Saint Thomas Aquinas, Volume I. The Person and His Work, Catholic University Press, Washington 1996, p. 157. 69 Servais Pinckaers, “The Sources of the Ethics of Thomas Aquinas”, in: Pope (ed.): The Ethics of Aquinas, p. 20. 70 Ibid., p. 21. 71 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I–II, 57.2. 72 Ibid., I–II, 57.3; 57.4. 73 Ibid., I–II, 57.1.

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making or doing things rightly.74 Aquinas also discusses the connection between these two sets of virtues. Understanding, science and wisdom relate to one another in the ways that all three virtues perfect the human ability to grasp truth, use reason and judge accordingly.75 Wisdom is the perfection of all three powers. It is knowledge of the highest cause.76 Aquinas also describes moral virtues which affect the will, the appetitive part of reason. These dispositions are primarily concerned with action and passion, whose operations depend on prudence. Following Aristotle, Aquinas maintains that the perfection of moral and intellectual virtue lies in accordance with the appropriate mean of these actions,77 whereby the virtue of prudence is key.78 Justice perfects the will and guides social relations. Courage and temperance “put the order of reason into the passions.” They are excellences that help persons to respond reasonably to what they desire or fear. In these cases, temperance disciplines the passions to those goods that are desirable, and courage strengthens passions in regard to situations that pose threat.79 Aquinas’s virtue theory includes a discussion of infused virtues and explains the relationship between the two types of virtue. Whereas acquired virtue facilitates the performance of determined right actions towards specific proper ends, infused virtues are additional competencies that enable believers to reach their most fitting and ultimate end, perfect happiness.80 Aquinas lists two kinds of infused virtue: theological, “supernatural virtues per se”, and moral virtues, “supernatural virtues per accidens”. God gives these virtues directly to the believer through the gift of grace.81 Faith, hope and charity are the theological virtues that dispose the human will to God’s direction.82 These virtues are not subject to a measure or mean as in the case of acquired virtues because of their “rule” to love God, who is to be “exalted as much as [one] can […].”83 Faith provides the knowledge that arouses desire for God, and hope strives towards God. Charity is the consummation of the love for God, delighting in union with God. Faith assents to revealed truths that are greater than the mind could ever grasp or imagine and to knowledge that can move the person “in-

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83

Ibid., I–II, 57.4. Ibid., I–II, 57.2. Ibid., II–II, 45.1. Ibid., I–II, 64.1. Ibid., I–II, 65.1. Ibid., I–II, 61.2. Ibid., I–II, 63.3 ad 2. Ibid., I–II, 55.4 ad 6. Ibid., I–II, 62.1; 65.5. Ibid., I–II, 64.4.

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wardly by grace”.84 Hope enables believers to cooperate with grace, aids them in overcoming obstacles and fosters a steadfast turning towards supernatural happiness with God.85 Charity is the perfection of faith and hope and of all virtue because this virtue is the “mother and root of all virtues […] directing all acts to their last end”.86 Faith, hope and charity are the seeds for the second type of infused virtue, the moral virtues. Infused prudence, justice, courage and temperance make humans good citizens with the saints and members of God’s household.87 “Social actions are more perfect”, i. e. corresponding to beatitude.88 Central here is the virtue of charity, which, as Servais Pinckaers explains, “touches and organises [all] the virtues” without replacing “the proper action of each and every virtue”.89 As noted above, Aquinas’s ethics draws upon the interconnections between law and grace, especially exploring how the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel-Beatitudes (blessings) contribute to moral goodness. Aquinas says that “whoever has charity has all these gifts of [the] Holy Spirit, none of which can one possess without charity”.90 The gifts of understanding, knowledge, fear of the Lord and wisdom dispose persons for more perfect action because they are “being moved by a principle higher than human reason”,91 i. e. being opened to the “deep inspirations [that] move beyond the measure of reason” and becoming habitually receptive to guidance of the Holy Spirit.92 Aquinas also distinguishes between the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel beatitudes.93 These blessings are “perfect and excellent” acts flowing from charity, “so as to refer to the future life or some beginning of happiness”.94 They manifest a new order, teaching the believer how to live spiritual freedom in the context of friendship with God. The gifts of the New Law open the intellectual and appetitive powers to the prompting of the Holy Spirit95 and infused virtues of 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95

Ibid., II–II, 6.1. Ibid., II–II, 17.6 ad 3. Ibid., I–II, 62.4; II–II, 23.8. Ibid., I–II, 63.4. Ibid., I–II, 63.3. Servais Pinckaers, Morality: A Catholic View, trans. by Michael Sherwin, Saint Augustine Press, South Bend 2001, p. 87. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I–II, 68.5. Ibid., I–II, 68.1. Ibid., I–II, 68.6. Ibid., I–II, 70.2. Ibid., I–II, 69.2. Aquinas further explains the spiritual and material aspects of this New Law: “The New Law contains certain things that dispose us to receive the grace of the Holy Spirit, and pertain to the use of that grace. These things are secondary, so to speak, in the New Law; [yet] the faithful needed to be instructed concerning them, both by word and by writing, about what they should believe, as well as what they should do”, in his Summa Theologiae, I–II, 106.1.

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faith, hope and charity, empowering a believer to act in harmony with divine wisdom.96 Aquinas’s discussion about human acts, acquiring virtue and its application in living in the church and society examines the various stages of this moral-spiritual formation. Far from lessening human freedom, each stage of moral development draws believers towards greater human fulfilment. His explanation of the growth of charity, that excellence which animates and perfects the moral life, captures this pedagogy.97,98 God’s friendship with believers grows, and at each stage, from the beginner to the progressive and then the perfect, believers experience a deeper union with God through Christ and in the Holy Spirit. Aquinas teaches that Christ is model and way to perfect happiness. Christ is the gate, namely “the way of truth whereby we may attain the bliss of eternal life rising again.”99 In this life, Christ’s character, especially through the grace of the sacraments, means that the faithful participate in “Christ’s Priesthood, which flows from Christ Himself.”100 In Baptism believers “put on Christ”, and through the cleansing and regenerative waters of this sacrament they embark on a journey towards happiness with God. The Eucharist celebrates the fruits of this journey, partially now, but perfectly in heaven, as a mutual indwelling of goodness and life-giving partnership with Christ.101

96 “[W]isdom is in all who have charity and are without mortal sin […] [and] this wisdom […] denotes a certain rectitude of judgement in the contemplation and consultation of Divine things, as to both of these men obtain various degrees of wisdom through union with Divine things.” Ibid., II–II, 45.5. 97 Ibid., II–II, 24.9. 98 The spiritual increase of charity may be considered in respect of a certain likeness to the growth of the human body. For although this latter growth may be divided into many parts, it has, nonetheless, certain fixed divisions according to those particular actions or pursuits to which man is brought by this same growth. Thus we speak of a man being an infant until he has the use of reason, after which we distinguish another state of man wherein he begins to speak and use reason, followed by a third state, that of puberty, when he begins to acquire the power of generation, and so on, until he arrives at perfection. 99 Ibid., III, Prologue. 100 Ibid., III, 63.3. 101 Paul Waddell comments that for Aquinas “The Incarnation continues through the sacraments because they are the means God uses to reach out to us in Christ; through each of them God befriends us now and into the future, inviting us to share the divine life. And through the sacraments, especially the Eucharist where Christ is really present to us and becomes our contemporary, we live as though we were his contemporaries, listening to him, conversing with him, learning from him, and rejoicing with him. Christ lives in us and we in him; indeed, our daily life is a friendship, a holy companionship with Christ.” Paul Waddell, “The Role of Charity in the Moral Theology of Thomas Aquinas”, in: Simon G. Harak (ed.), Aquinas and Empowerment, Georgetown University Press, Washington 1996, p. 161.

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Comparing Moral Theories

Explorations in theological ethics are projects pursued by scholars within a religious tradition as well as resources for comparative theological studies. The goal of this paper was to provide both. First, the theological ethics of al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas were examined, followed by a description of their virtue theory. This section will further analyse these descriptions and seek to discover, as Lee Yearly states, “differences within similarities and similarities within differences”.102 Three questions will frame this summary, comparison and analysis. First, what are the common and particular aspects to the theological projects of al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas? Secondly, what are the core elements of their virtue theory? Thirdly, in answering the first two questions, which ideas, or parts of ideas, about the moral life are capable of speaking to adherents of both traditions? Throughout this analysis, the virtue of humility is needed. For as Aaron Stalnaker in a recent study comparing Christian and Confucian ethics illustrated, these studies can involve more than comparisons on the practical level, i. e. ethical questions about how to live and what to do. This is especially true for theological ethical studies, wherein secondary theories, i. e. those involving principles drawn from metaphysical or anthropological claims, are inseparable from practical theories.103 Even though ideas might prove incommensurable, they still offer the possibility for deep learning because they prevent us from a “rush to assimilate”.104

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Theological Ethics

Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ teaches that humans draw nearer to God, the Only Existent, because God created them in the “best of moulds” and they are “recipients of God’s spirit” (Qurʾa¯n 95:4 and 15:29). Nearness to God must be cultivated through belief in the fundamental principles of Islam (usu¯l al-dı¯n) and the practice of one’s faith. ˙ Remembrance of God is central to the moral life. Those who possess beautiful character are firm in a certitude (yaqı¯n) concerning God’s active presence, and this gives birth to contentment (rida¯): a peace in the heart resulting from being ˙ attentive to God’s will. Muslims believe that God is closer to humans than their own “jugular vein” (Qurʾa¯n 50:16). 102 Lee Yearly, Mencius and Aquinas: Theories of Virtue and Conceptions of Courage, State University of New York Press, Albany 1990, pp. 4–6. 103 See Aaron Stalnaker, Overcoming our Evil: Human Nature and Spiritual Exercises in Xunzi and Augustine, Georgetown University Press, Washington 2006, p. 295. 104 Ibid., p. 300.

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Similarly, Aquinas’s theological ethics considers the Christian life as a dynamic movement from God-originating goodness to God-oriented goodness.105 Human beings, made in the divine image, glorify God as they respond to God’s love for them. Through charity, or friendship with God, they remain continuously open to the movements of God’s grace, i. e. the action of the Holy Spirit. According to their traditions, Aquinas and al-Ghaza¯lı¯ both affirm the One Creator, who continually reveals the divine self to creatures. When believers experience God’s activity in creation and in sacred revelation, they learn truths about God, this world and themselves. This knowledge is a foundation for faith and morality. For Aquinas and al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the divine names for God’s attributes and acts emerge from this contemplation. Aquinas asserts that the “first” and most proper name for God is Ipsum Esse. Ipsum Esse expresses God’s existence as perfect Truth and Goodness. God is absolute subsistent being. As transcendent being, God is only approachable as mystery. As immanent being, God is the first cause, exemplar and goal of finite being. Aquinas speaks of the mission of the Trinity. The procession of Father, Son and Spirit into the temporal realities gives meaning to existence: “the invisible mission takes place according to the gift of sanctifying grace […] disposing the soul to possess the divine person.”106 The goal is to love God as fully as possible and to love all others in God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ rejects belief in the Trinity. He declares God is One and incomprehensible, even though our knowledge of his actions discloses the divine attributes: “The power of God, great and glorious is God, is that of an attribute whose effect and trace is the existence of things […].”107 He reminds believers that they should emulate, as best as they can being finite creatures, these attributes and therein discover ways to draw nearer to God. He notes that the perfection and “happiness of man consists in conforming to God’s will by

105 Walter H. Principe, Thomas Aquinas’ Spirituality, Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto 1984, p. 10. 106 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I, 43.3 ad 1, 2. 107 Al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God, p. 45. In the preface to this edition (p. vii), the translators comment that the treatise is based upon the spiritual practice of Muslims to recite the names of God as declared in the Qurʾa¯n in a traditional order that uses the 33 beads (subha) as a guide for the meditation. They explain further: “These names recall the ˙ attributes whereby God has made Himself known in revelation, and which also connect human expression with matters divine. So to recall God as ‘the merciful One’ is to allude to those verses in the Qurʾa¯n where God is so named, as well as experiences of mercy we may have had. The connection between our experience and the reality of God’s mercy may be tenuous, but the verbal connection provides a slender thread, at least, so that reciting these divine names allows us to bring God into our ambit. Yet the fact that names are more than attributes, because God uses them of Himself in revealing Himself to the Prophet, saves our recitation from reducing God to our experience.”

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adorning himself with the meanings of His attributes and names insofar as this is conceivable for man.”108 Though there are different theological doctrines, their ethics display this shared conviction that God communicates, even loves, creation and that knowledge of God’s activity in creation is essential to moral formation. Moreover, there is a common insight regarding the goal of moral life: flourishing according to God’s plan for human beings to experience infinite happiness with God. In the Summa Theologiae, Aquinas announces that: [T]he chief aim of this sacred doctrine is to teach the knowledge of God, not only as He is in Himself, but also as He is the Beginning of all things, and the End of all, especially of rational creatures. We shall treat first of God; secondly, of the rational creature’s advance to God (de motu creaturae rationalis in Deum); thirdly, of Christ, Who, as Man, is our way to God.109

In a compendium of Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ writes: ˙

Know, O Beloved, that man was not created in jest or at random, but marvellously made and for some great end. Although he is not from everlasting, yet he lives forever; and though his body is mean and earthly, yet his spirit is lofty and divine. When in the crucible of abstinence he is purged from carnal passions he attains to the highest, and in place of being a slave to lust and anger becomes endowed with angelic qualities. Attaining that state, he finds heaven in the contemplation of Eternal Beauty, and no longer in fleshly delights.110

Believers draw nearer to God and perfect happiness as they deepen their knowledge and love for God. Knowledge is sacred because it brings believers closer to the One, who is the source and summit of being. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas see that human beings have a tremendous response-ability. They cannot simply do their duty or follow commands, even if they are divine. Divine transcendence in these writings is not conceived of as an upward and outward escape from self or world. Instead transcendence is a “breaking in” to human consciousness that liberates us from distorted and self-made mirrors that we too often prefer to the immediate experience of God. In this way, it is an intimacy with God that purifies as it informs us that God exists and inspires us to respond to God completely, even though such evidences can never comprehend the divine reality fully. To be human is to be invited into the deepest realities of existence and to become witnesses of the Divine in the world. Believers learn to seek the One, who is existence itself, and therein touch the sacredness themselves.

108 Ibid., p. 30. 109 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I–I, 2, Prologue. 110 Al-Ghazza¯lı¯, The Alchemy of Happiness, p. 3.

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Virtue Theory

As shown above, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas describe how various types of virtues are excellences that help believers develop their faith and good character. At the heart of this formation there is growth in a person’s desire for God and openness to God’s gift of Divine Assistance. Aquinas’s virtue theory describes how a variety of excellences from the natural and common to the most noble and glorious deepen one’s friendship with God as a person strives towards perfect happiness with God. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s moral teaching identifies provisions such as those of essential human needs and righteous deeds to the honourable pleasures and spiritual fruits of supererogatory disciplines. These excellences help believers to travel the straight path to greater intimacy with God. These theories share some similar concerns, yet with distinctive features. First, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s and Aquinas’s study of the moral life draw from a number of analogous resources: sacred revelation, sacred doctrine, moral philosophy, law and the principles of worship. For Aquinas these include the sacraments, and for al-Ghaza¯lı¯, the pillars of Muslim worship. To focus on any one aspect of these resources would be a distortion. In fact, as shown above, both thinkers relied on a synthesis of religious teaching and practice as well as philosophical insights to revise the theological training and faith of their communities. Moreover, both thinkers engaged in a type of dialectics in their ethical study whereby the explications of both the sacred page and science of thought created internal harmonies between the authority of Tradition and human reason. Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae was intended for those training to be Dominican friars, whose ministry was to preach the Gospel to the faithful. He describes virtue systematically, offering philosophical and theological arguments, to illustrate how virtues are rooted in Scripture and in the Church teachings about law and grace. He also shows how acquired and infused virtues, spiritual gifts, and sacraments all contribute to the development of moral character. Pulling both together in an exposition, Aquinas’s study aims to help ministers to instruct others in moral living, addressing their social commitments and personal callings, wherein they respond continuously to God’s call to friendship. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n offers a more instructional framework for ˙ believers themselves. He addresses them directly with recommendations that help them to live their faith more authentically. Using the Qurʾa¯n, hadı¯th, ju˙ risprudential guidance as well as teachings from great masters, each type of virtue and its explication contribute to the descriptions about the development of a beautiful character. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ also highlights how God’s assistance, and especially supererogatory spiritual disciplines, draws believers nearer to God. The beautiful character manifests a believer’s “Islam”, i. e. the depth of faith and commitment to God and the religious and social obligations therein. Ultimately,

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the life of the Prophet Muhammad is the model for the perfection of one’s character. Secondly, al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s and Aquinas’s analysis and synthesis illustrate that these excellences have an essential form, though they differ in their understanding of this form of virtue. For Aquinas, charity, which is God’s friendship with us, is the form of all virtue and serves as the hallmark of God’s grace made known through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s writings speak of remembrance of God and God-consciousness as the form of holy and virtuous living. It is the deepest experience of God, who is One and allencompassing Reality. In each of these accounts, we recognise differences in the understanding of the concept of intimacy with God. For Aquinas, this intimacy is one that represents God’s movement towards us in creation and in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. According to Islamic belief, the incarnation is impossible. Therefore, the meaning of intimacy with God is different. Believers draw nearer to God by deepening their comprehension of the perfect and the beautiful as is manifested by the Sacred Reality. This beauty surpasses all mundane expressions of truth, beauty and goodness. It is movement in an ever-deepening realisation of life before God, believers deepening knowledge of God, “knowing nothing except through God and loving nothing but God.”111 Even with these differences, al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas share the concern to ground their virtue theories with a theocentric focus. The moral life is conceived as a journey towards God by means of God, who empowers us to embark and remain on this pathway. The road is marked by individual and communal commitments to God and others. Based on this conviction, a second common concern is that of moral formation. As masters in their respective traditions, their writings aimed to summarise and synthesise teachings critical to the moral life. However, as we can see above, these writings are far from any type of summary. In fact, they point to the complex and comprehensive nature of moral formation and its goal: to awaken in all believers a deep sense of God’s presence and to cultivate a lifetime of loving gratitude to God and service to others. Such insights offer possible ways of finding common ground between believers of different faiths. Muslims, who are called to be vicegerents of God, and Christians, who are called to be God’s friends, may learn how they can together strive to build a society based on the goodness which God ordains for all creation.

111 Ihya¯ʾ, Love, Longing, Intimacy and Contentment, Book XXXVI, p. 84. ˙

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Summary

Further study of Aquinas’s and al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics could reveal additional areas for mutual exchange and learning. The theological foundations of their practicalethical proposals enable us to be attentive to the beliefs and practices of Muslims and Catholic-Christians, to respect the complexity of these traditions and to acknowledge the core values that ground the moral action of each. As noted above, one possible channel for interfaith communication between Muslims and Christians would be in sharing ideas concerning moral formation. Learning how faith communities envision holistic personal development not only offers insights about a religious tradition’s priorities but also serves the general common good. As Jacques Maritain argued, society must be composed of “wholes”, i. e. persons whose fullness is characterised by goodness acquired in this world as well as goodness in accordance with our final end of eternal life with God, in order to uphold human dignity and the common good.112 In this way the moral life is the means to protect human dignity and promote human flourishing and the common good. As persons made in God’s image or in the “best of moulds”, we have both a temporal and transcendent end. We foster the common good when we learn how to remain in this truth and act from this truth. In this way human flourishing corresponds with the good God ordains in this world and life eternal. Muslims and Christians, who believe God is the source, summit and sustainer of all, learn to act knowingly, lovingly and generously with all because of their love for God and all others in God.

Conclusion The first part of this paper examined al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theological ethics and virtue theory. It offered an analysis of al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s theory based on his understanding of the form of virtue. In the study of his Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, this article showed how ˙ remembrance of God is the essential principle of moral life according to his ethical teachings. Al-Ghaza¯lı¯ believed that this remembrance, which included a deepening sense of God-consciousness (taqwa¯), is the foundation for developing a beautiful character. Those who remember God remain attentive to God and draw nearer to God. Such intimacy does not separate them from the world but enables them to enter more fully into worship of God and service to others. The second part of the paper explored Christian theological ethics, specifically that of Thomas Aquinas. It included a comparison of Aquinas and al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s 112 Jacques Maritain, The Person and the Common Good, University of Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame 1973, p. 47.

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writings, noting differences and similarities in their theories. Finally, the comparison identified areas for further exploration of Aquinas’s and al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics. There is much we can learn from one another’s ethical teachings. They not only reveal “partially overlapping practical theories” but also draw us into the deeper richness of the theological secondary theories.113 This is especially crucial for ongoing theological study and dialogue. Without this foundational work, we could never fully comprehend the depth of richness in Aquinas’s and al-Ghaza¯lı¯’s ethics. We also might not discover essential areas of practical concern either. This was brought to light in a recent study by Mark Vernon. In his article, he noted that religions are more than “intermittently […] useful”.114 They “[build] community and [nurture] kindness because, paradoxically, they do not aim directly to do either. Rather, they aim to open adherents to that source of life, or spiritual sustenance, that is expansive of our humanity. They offer practices that, over time, transform the soul. […] Goodwill and well-being may follow. They may also not. But when they do, they are happy by-products of the main task, which is not actually to have a successful life. It is to come to know God.”115 Vernon’s insights remind us that as Muslims and Christians we have an extraordinary opportunity. Following the theological projects of al-Ghaza¯lı¯ and Aquinas, we learn the ways to draw nearer to God and therein bring ourselves, others and all creation into the fullness of life that God has ordained for each.

Bibliography Aquinas, St. Thomas, Summa contra Gentiles, trans. by Vernon Bourke/Charles O’Neil, Hanover House, Garden City 1956. Aquinas, St. Thomas, Summa Theologiae, trans. by Fathers of the English Dominican Province, Benziger Brothers, New York 1947. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics II, trans. and with commentary by Sarah Broadie/Christopher Rowe, Oxford University Press, New York 2002. Bakhtiar, Laleh, “Introduction”, in: Al-Ghazzali, On Disciplining the Self, trans. by Muhammad Nur Abdus Salam, Great Books of the Islamic World Series, Kazi Publications, Chicago 2002. Chenu, Marie-Dominique, O.P., Aquinas and His Role in Theology, Liturgical Press, Collegeville 2002. 113 Stalnaker, Overcoming Our Evil, p. 295. Here he gives a good summary of Lee Yearly’s tripartite divisions and makes a case, as I do, for a secondary theory which is set apart from merely practical decision-making concerns. 114 Mark Vernon, “Why Religion is Good for You”, Feature in Tablet, April 20, 2012, URL: http:// www.markvernon.com/friendshiponline/dotclear/index.php?post/2012/04/20/Why-religi on-is-good-for-you (accessed March 31, 2014). 115 Ibid.

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Clooney, Francis X., S.J., Comparative Theology: Deep Learning across Religious Borders, Wiley-Blackwell, Malden 2010. al-Ghazali, Faith in Divine Unity and Trust in Divine Providence, Kitab al-tawhid wa’ltawakkul. Book XXXV of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihyaʾ ʿulum al-din, trans. with an Introduction by David B. Burrell, CSC, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2001. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Inner Dimensions of Islamic Worship, trans. from the Ihya¯ʾ by Muhtar Holland, ˙ The Islamic Foundation, Markfield 2002. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Invocations & Supplications, Kita¯b al-adhka¯r wa’l-daʿawa¯t. Book IX of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with an Introduction by ˙ Kojiro Nakamura, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 1996. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, Love, Longing, Intimacy and Contentment, Kita¯b al-mahabba wa’l-shawq wa’l˙ uns wa’l-rida¯. Book XXXVI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, ˙ ˙ trans. with an Introduction by Eric Ormsby, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2011. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, On Disciplining the Soul and On Breaking the Two Desires, Kita¯b Riya¯dat alnafs & Kita¯b Kasr al-shahwatayn. Books XXII and XXIII of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with an Introduction by Timothy J. Winter, Islamic ˙ Texts Society, Cambridge 1997. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, On Patience and Thankfulness, Kita¯b al-sabr wa’l-shukr. Book XXXII of the ˙ Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with an Introduction by ˙ Henry T. Littlejohn, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 2010. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Duties of Brotherhood in Islam, trans. from the Ihya¯ʾ by Muhtar Holland, ˙ Quarter II, Book 5, The Islamic Foundation, Markfield 1975. al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart: Science of the Spirit, Kitab Sharh ʿAjaʾib al-Qalb. Book XXI of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya ʿulum al-din, trans. with a Foreword by Walter James Skellie and an Introduction by Timothy J. Winter, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2010. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful Names of God, al-Maqsad al-asna¯ fı¯ sharh asma¯ʾ ˙ Alla¯h al-husna¯, trans. by David B. Burrell, CSC/Nazih Daher, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 1997. al-Ghaza¯lı¯, The Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife, Kita¯b dhikr al-mawt wa-ma¯ baʿdahu. Book XL of the Revival of the Religious Sciences, Ihya¯ʾ ʿulu¯m al-dı¯n, trans. with ˙ an Introduction by Timothy J. Winter, Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge 1995. al-Ghazzali, On Disciplining the Self, trans. by Muhammad Nur Abdus Salam, Great Books of the Islamic World Series, Kazi Publications, Chicago 2002. al-Ghazzali, On Love, Longing and Contentment, (Alchemy of Happiness, Part IV), trans. by Muhammad Nur Abdus Salam, Great Books of the Islamic World Series, Kazi Publications, Chicago 2002. al-Ghazza¯lı¯, The Alchemy of Happiness, (Kı¯miya¯-yi saʿa¯dat), trans. by Claud Field, M.E. Sharpe, Armonk 1991. Kerr, Fergus, After Aquinas, Blackwell Publishing, Malden 2002. Lichtenstadter, Ilse/McCarthy, Richard J. (eds.) Deliverance from Error, Fons Vitae, Louisville 2004. Maritain, Jacques, The Person and the Common Good, University of Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame 1973. Murata, Sachiko/Chittick, William C., Vision of Islam, Paragon Press, St. Paul 1994.

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Nofal, Nabil, “Al-Ghazali”, in: Prospects: Quarterly Review of Comparative Education, vol. XXIII, no. 3/4, UNESCO: International Bureau of Education, Paris 1993, pp. 519–542. O’ Meara, Thomas, O.P., “Virtues in the Theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas”, in: Theological Studies, (58) 1997, pp. 254–285. Pinckaers, Servais, Morality: A Catholic View, trans. by Michael Sherwin, Saint Augustine Press, South Bend 2002. Pinckaers, Servais, The Sources of Christian Ethics, Catholic University of America Press, Washington 1995. Pinckaers, Servais, “The Sources of the Ethics of Thomas Aquinas”, in: Pope, Stephen (ed.), The Ethics of Aquinas, Georgetown University Press, Washington 2002. Pope, Stephen (ed.), The Ethics of Aquinas, Georgetown University Press, Washington 2002. Principe, Walter H., Thomas Aquinas’ Spirituality, Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto 1984. Quasem, Muhammad Abul, The Ethics of al-Ghazali: A Composite Ethics in Islam, Central Printing, Selangor/Malaysia 21978. Sherif, Mohamed, Ghazali’s Theory of Virtue, New York State University Press, Albany 1975. Smith, Margaret, Readings from the Mystics of Islam, Luzac & Company Ltd., London 1972. Stalnaker, Aaron, Overcoming Our Evil: Human Nature and Spiritual Exercises in Xunzi and Augustine, Georgetown University Press, Washington 2006. At-Tabara¯nı¯, Abu¯ ’l-Qa¯sim, Al-Muʿjam al-kabı¯r, Da¯r al-Ra¯yah, al-Riya¯d 1993. ˙ ˙ ˙ Torrell, Jean-Pierre, O.P., Saint Thomas Aquinas, Volume I. The Person and His Work, Catholic University Press, Washington 1996. Vernon, Mark, “Why Religion is Good for You”, Feature in Tablet, April 20, 2012, URL: http://www.markvernon.com/friendshiponline/dotclear/index.php?post/2012/04/20/ Why-religion-is-good-for-you (accessed March 31, 2014). Waddell, Paul, “The Role of Charity in the Moral Theology of Thomas Aquinas”, in: Harak, Simon G. (ed.), Aquinas and Empowerment, Georgetown University Press, Washington 1996, pp. 134–169. Walzer, Richard, “New light on Galen’s Moral Philosophy”, in: idem, Greek into Arabic: Essays on Islamic Philosophers, Harvard University Press, Cambridge 1962. Yearly, Lee, Mencius and Aquinas: Theories of Virtue and Conceptions of Courage, State University of New York Press, Albany 1990.

Personenverzeichnis

Prof. Dr. Gerhard Böwering is Professor of Islamic Studies at Yale University, New Haven, USA. His research focuses on history of Islam, Qurʾa¯nic studies, Sufism, Islamic philosophy and theology. Prof. Dr. Marianne Farina, CSC, is a religious sister of the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Cross, Notre Dame, Indiana, and Associate Professor at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology in Berkeley. Her focus lies on social ethics, virtue, sexual ethics, philosophical ethics, Islamic philosophy, Human Rights and Muslim-Christian dialogue. Prof. Dr. Merdan Günes¸ ist Inhaber der Juniorprofessur für Islamische Mystik, Philosophie und Glaubenslehre an der Universität Osnabrück. Prof. Dr. Maha El-Kaisy Friemuth holds a professorship in Islamic Religious Studies with a practical focus at the University Erlangen-Nuremberg. Her research interests cover practice-related aspects, Islamic faith, norms and methodologies, and interreligious relations. Prof. Dr. Frank Griffel lehrt Islamwissenschaft an der Yale University mit dem Schwerpunkt al-G˙aza¯lı¯. Dr. Silvia Horsch ist Postdoktorandin am Institut für Islamische Theologie der Universität Osnabrück und forscht zur Transformation von Konzepten im Bereich ʿaqı¯dah und kala¯m von der Vormoderne zur Moderne. Ass. Prof. Dr. Cemil Oruç works as an Assistant Professor at the Mus¸ Alparslan University, Faculty of Education. His main research interests include Islamic religious education, religious education of early childhood, moral education and al-Ghaza¯lı¯.

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Personenverzeichnis

Prof. Dr. Mehmet Sait Reçber is Professor of Philosophy of Religion at at the Faculty of Divinity, Ankara University. Prof. Dr. Bülent Ucar ist Direktor des Instituts für Islamische Theologie der Universität Osnabrück, hier hat er darüber hinaus auch die Professur für Islamische Religionspädagogik inne. Dr. Martin Whittingham is Director of the Centre for Muslim-Christian Studies, Oxford, and Research Fellow at Regent’s Park College, University of Oxford. The focus of his current research lies on the history of Muslim views of Christianity and the Bible. Tim Winter is University Lecturer in Islamic Studies at the Faculty of Divinity, University of Cambridge. He is also Director of Studies at Wolfson College and Dean of The Cambridge Muslim College. His principal research interests focus on Muslim-Christian relations and computerised hadı¯th databases. ˙