Mystical Traditions: Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence (Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism) [1st ed. 2023] 3031271203, 9783031271205

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INTERDISCIPLINARY APPROACHES TO THE STUDY OF MYSTICISM

Mystical Traditions Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence Edited by Muhammad Shafiq · Thomas Donlin-Smith

Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism Series Editors

Thomas Cattoi Santa Clara University Berkeley, CA, USA Bin You Minzu University Beijing, China

The exploration and interpretation of mystical phenomena is an integral part of the study of religion and spiritual practice, which consistently attracts the interest of scholars and the general public. At the same time, the term “mysticism” may encompass all kinds of transformative practices leading to an experience of ultimate reality or the divine outside the context of particular religious traditions. As a result of the increasingly interdisciplinary character of the study of humanities, scholars are becoming more interested in the contributions of different academic disciplines to the understanding of mystical phenomena. In the spirit of this growing conversation across disciplinary boundaries, the series provides a space for the interdisciplinary study of mysticism, where new methodologies informed by psychology, the natural sciences, or the humanities complement more traditional approaches from religious studies and theology. The series also privileges interreligious and comparative approaches to the study of mysticism, with a particular interest in Asian religions and minority religious traditions.

Muhammad Shafiq  •  Thomas Donlin-Smith Editors

Mystical Traditions Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence

Editors Muhammad Shafiq Hickey Center and IIIT Chair Nazareth College Rochester, NY, USA

Thomas Donlin-Smith Religious Studies Department Nazareth College Rochester, NY, USA

Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism ISBN 978-3-031-27120-5    ISBN 978-3-031-27121-2 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: aydinmutlu/Getty Images This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

“Dedicated to the families of Dr. Thomas Donlin-Smith and Dr. Muhammad Shafiq without whose forbearance our academic and publication efforts would not be possible.”

Preface

The interfaith movement is not just about understanding world religions and faiths. It is about appreciating social justice, diversity, inclusion, and equity (DE&I); celebrating the diversity in racial, cultural, gender, religious, and social differences; and striving for just and peaceful living. The interfaith movement is like a human body where every part of the body is significant for proper functioning. If one organ is sick, the whole body is in pain. We experienced an increase in racial and religious prejudice, extremism, terrorism, and wars in the wake of 9/11. Samuel P.  Huntington, who predicted a The Clash of Civilization and the Remaking of World Order between Muslims and the Western world in his 1993 article in foreign affairs, became a household name in America and elsewhere. He later published a book of the same title in 1998. The words Islamic terrorism flooded electronic and print media, labeling Muslims as potential terrorists. This—and the FBI—haunted many Muslim homes all over America. Muslims living in the West and America faced hateful rhetoric and discrimination. I taught a course in spring 2022 on the challenges to American pluralism and interfaith dialogue. The class used Chris Beneke’s book, Beyond Toleration: The Religious Origins of American Pluralism. The students had little knowledge of the intolerance in American history and were stunned to read the hateful rhetoric in our history. However, at the same time, they were pleased with the gradual progress toward tolerance. Protestant Christians, in coming to America, witnessed significant divisiveness and hateful rhetoric between themselves. They tried to create ecumenical vii

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dialogue to restore relations and build bridges. The phrase Christian denominations was coined in recognition of this. Later, when Catholics and Jews joined the ecumenical dialogue, the phrase Judeo-Christian heritage of America was used. However, the attitude toward Native Americans and African Americans remained oppressive even until recent times. I remember when I attended an ecumenical conference in New York in late 1970 with my Judaism professor. I questioned the professor on our way back regarding why all the presentations were about Protestant Christianity and some were negative to Judaism, Islam, and other religions. Why should we attend such conferences? He advised me to be patient, hoping that our continuous presence would bear fruits. It was not too much later that I witnessed the emergence of interfaith dialogue with equal opportunities for all communities. Perhaps Nazareth College of Rochester, N.Y., was the first in America after the Pluralism Project of Harvard Divinity School to create a Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue as an academic institution to deal with issues of hate and religious bigotry. The International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT) in Virginia came to our financial support by donating $50,000  in 2004 and promising $30,000 each year in support of the Center’s programs. Since its foundation at Nazareth College, the Hickey Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue, along with the IIIT Chair for Islamic and Interfaith Studies, has had three major goals to bridge the divide. First, to reach out to the next generation of America, to educate them in the diversity of world cultures and faiths, and to prepare future leaders with a broader understanding of the world. To move toward these objectives, in 2004 the Hickey Center started a weeklong summer program for high school students of the Rochester area. The graduates of these programs envisioned a daylong Global Citizenship Conference (GCC) in 2011 and, on March 16, 2022, we had the 11th GCC in which hundreds of high school students from Monroe and the adjacent counties in New York State participated. These conferences had logos like “Bridging the Gap,” “Love not Hate,” “One Tree, Many Branches,” “Love Your Neighbor,” and others, and distributed free buttons and T-shirts at the events. Our second goal has been to bring the community to academia and to take academia to the community, building relationships of cooperation in enhancing the public good. For this purpose, we sponsor community programs and offer workshops, certificate programs, and seminars on contemporary issues of social justice and festivals of sacred music to advance

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multicultural and religious education. The speakers and presenters in these programs are drawn from religious and academic experts to demonstrate that religion and academia are not in conflict but rather are complementary. Our third goal is expanding academic programs in interfaith studies to diversity, inclusion, and equity (DE&I). We not only introduced an interdisciplinary minor in interfaith studies, but we initiated a series of international symposiums on Sacred Texts and Human Contexts. These are meant to encourage research in the area of interfaith studies and the production of academic literature to educate people on the necessity of interfaith studies in a global context. The series provides a source for new ideas and for critical reflection upon old ideas in order for the interfaith movement to stimulate the intellectual life of a global society. We hope to continue these conferences with challenging themes of social justice facing our world and to produce valuable literature in interfaith studies. In June 2013 at Nazareth College, we had our first conference on Sacred Texts and Human Contexts: Sacred Texts of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in Dividing and Uniting Humanity. The selected papers from the conference were published in December 2014 in a book titled Sacred Texts & Human Contexts: A North American Response to a Common Word Between Us and You. Our second international symposium on Sacred Texts and Human Contexts: Wealth and Poverty in the Sacred Texts of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam was held at Fatih University, Istanbul, Turkey, in June 2014 and, wonderfully, the selected papers were published as Poverty & Wealth in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The conference planning committee then decided to open these conferences to experts in all faiths and social sciences. In 2016, our third international symposium on Sacred Texts and Human Contexts was on Nature and Environment, and selected papers were published as Nature and the Environment in Contemporary Religious Contexts in 2017. Our fourth conference was Women and Gender in Religions, and the selected papers were published with the title Making Gender in the Intersection of the Human and the Divine. Our fifth 2018 conference was on Religions and the (De) Legitimization of Violence, and the selected papers were published in 2021. Our sixth conference on Mystical Traditions: Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence was planned in Rome in 2020, but due to COVID-19 was held online in May 2021. We hope that Palgrave Macmillan will publish the manuscript before the end of 2022. We are planning our seventh

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conference on Inclusion or Exclusion: The Self and the Other in Sacred Texts and Human Contexts in May 2023. No institution can thrive without collegial and financial support. While we miss the presence of Daan Braveman, our college president who retired in 2020, new president Elizabeth Paul’s support for programs of the Hickey Center and IIIT Chair is inspiring. Many thanks are due to Nazareth College’s administration, faculty, and staff for their support. The continued cooperation of the Department of Religious Studies and its commitment to interfaith dialogue is blissful. We must thank Brian and Jean Hickey for their continued moral and financial support and the International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT) at Herndon, VA, for their moral and financial support of the IIIT Chair and the Hickey Center. This work would not have been possible without a team of committed religious leaders, professionals, and academics, all dedicated to a common cause of respectful tolerance and peaceful coexistence. The Hickey Center and the IIIT Chair are fortunate to have a conference planning committee that works behind the scenes to make the impossible possible. We are grateful to members of the conference committee for their support, in particular Thomas Donlin-Smith, David Hill, Mustafa Gokcek, Etin Anwar, Michael Dobkowski, Richard Salter, Michael Calabria, Shalahuddin Kafrawi, and Matthew Temple for their wholehearted support for the IIIT Chair and Hickey Center’s conferences. I must thank the Department of Religious Studies at Hobart and William Smith Colleges for its continued support of these conferences. Most importantly, I thank the Hickey Center’s student workers who work tirelessly on different projects of the Center. In addition to all those mentioned above, I must mention my family. Their forbearance is amazing, especially that of my grandchildren who are so often disappointed that their grandpa is busy with college work at home and can hardly spare enough time to play or read Qur’an with them. I am grateful to my family for acknowledging this important work of interfaith. The Hickey Center is indebted to its founders and many community leaders and individuals who continue to give us hope for the future and continue to support our mutual quest for respectful religious and cultural dialogue and peaceful coexistence. Thank you. Rochester, NY

Muhammad Shafiq

Contents

1 Introduction  1 Thomas Donlin-Smith Part I Studies of Mystical Traditions   9 2 Mysticism,  Visual Art, and Repairing the World in a Strife-ridden Secular Age 11 Ori Z. Soltes 3 The  Zen Arts: A Mystical Entry Point to a World of Oneness 35 Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz 4 Jewish  Mysticism: Teachings About Unity and Discord 53 Saundra Sterling Epstein 5 “The  Immense Oceans of God’s Love”: Rumi’s Oceanic Imagery 77 Fariba Darabimanesh and Christian van Gorder 6 Benedictine  Evangelicalism: Human Flourishing, Peacemaking, and Protestant Pedagogy Today 91 Jason Okrzynski xi

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7 The  Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi Order Approach to Peaceful Coexistence Through Mawlana Sheikh Nazim Al-Haqqani’s Words and Actions109 Abdoul Aziz Gaye Part II Comparative Studies of Mystical Traditions 129 8 Cupitt’s  New Religion of the Everyday in the Global Context131 John G. Quilter 9 Transcending  the Letter, Awakening the Mind: Maximos the Confessor and Tsong kha pa and the Challenge of Textual Supersessionism151 Thomas Cattoi 10 O  n The Rasā’il of the Ikhwān al Ṣafā’ and Bonaventure’s Mind’s Road into God: Tracing Mystical Pathways Toward Union with God and Healing the Earth—A Comparative Study of Excerpts from their “Books of the Creatures”169 Elizabeth Adams-Eilers 11 Beyond  Separations: Mystics Merging Across Time and Space187 Saiyida Zakiya Hasna Islam 12 Al-Fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s and Eckhart’s Thoughts: The Annihilation of the Many in the One205 Hussam S. Timani Part III Social and Ethical Implications 221 13 Identity,  Prejudice, and Mysticism: Exploring Sustainable Narratives of Peace Across Religious Borders223 Paul Hedges

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14 Migration  and the Mystical-Theological Tradition: Migration Experiences and the Experience of a Dark Night241 Dorris van Gaal 15 Polishing  the Mirror of the Heart: Sufi Poetic Reflections as Interfaith Inspiration for Peace263 Barbara Pemberton 16 Eschatological  Politics and Intellectual Jihad: Shaykh Ahmad ibn Idris’s Legacy in Europe277 Yahya Pallavicini 17 A  bu Hamid al-Ghazali’s On the Duties of Brotherhood as a Modern Guide for Peaceful Coexistence295 June-Ann Greeley 18 M  arriage in Sharı̄‘a and Ḥaqı̄qa: Mystical Marriage in the Thought of Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭāhā311 Martin Awaana Wullobayi 19 Concluding Remarks331 Muhammad Shafiq Index335

Notes on Contributors

Elizabeth Adams-Eilers,  MA, MDiv, PhD, is a Secular Franciscan and associate adjunct professor at Drexel University, Philadelphia, where she teaches at the School of Medicine. She presented papers on Bonaventure’s The Mind’s Road to God (Villa Nova University, Philadelphia, October 2018 and October 2020). Her dissertation, “Windows of Desire: Narrative Discourse in Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle,” includes a chapter that was published in a book entitled Things of the Spirit: Women Writers Constructing Spirituality (Kristen Groover, ed., 2004). A study of the Ikhwān al Ṣafā’s Letter #22 was included in her essay entitled “That We May Sow Beauty: Reading Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Classics for Interreligious Dialogue About the Environmental Crisis” in Nature and the Environment in Contemporary Religious Contexts (Muhammad Shafiq and Thomas Donlin-Smith, eds., 2018). Thomas  Cattoi A native of Italy, Thomas Cattoi holds a PhD in Systematic and Comparative Theology from Boston College and is Associate Professor of Christology and Cultures at the Jesuit School of Theology at Santa Clara University in Berkeley, California. A scholar of Buddhist-Christian dialogue (with a special focus on Tibetan Buddhism) and of early Christian theology and spirituality, he believes that comparative theology should be constructive, historically informed, and grounded in the broader Catholic tradition. His publications include Divine Contingency: Theologies of Divine Embodiment in Maximos the Confessor and Tsong kha pa (2009), Theodore the Studite: Writings on Iconoclasm (2014), and Theologies of the Sacred Image in Theodore the Studite and xv

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Bokar Rinpoche (forthcoming). Since 2015, he has been serving as coeditor of the journal Buddhist-Christian Studies and he is now co-editing the Routledge Handbook for Buddhist-Christian Studies. Cattoi has led a number of theological immersions to India and Nepal and was also a visiting professor at three Chinese universities. He also holds a psychotherapy license (LMFT) in the state of California. Fariba  Darabimanesh is a psychologist and artist. She has extensive experience as an art therapist and psychotherapist. As part of her own journey, she began to investigate Iranian literature, Jungian analytical theory, and mindfulness meditation. She holds master’s degree in Psychology from Semnan University. Thomas  Donlin-Smith  is Professor of Religious Studies at Nazareth College. He teaches courses in biomedical ethics, ethics of the professions, religion and politics, religion and science, comparative religious ethics, and religious studies theories and methods. Donlin-Smith’s research interests include theory and method in the study of religion, religious ethics, and the relationships among religion, science, and politics. He directs the Nazareth College interdisciplinary program in ethics and is an advisory board member of the Brian and Jean Hickey Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue. He has served on numerous institutional ethics committees, human subjects research committees, and institutional animal care and use committees. He holds a BA from The Ohio State University, an MDiv from Wesley Theological Seminary, and a PhD from the University of Virginia. Saundra Sterling Epstein  (Sunnie) holds BA, MS, and EdD from the University of Pennsylvania. Sunnie directs BeYachad, a program bringing Jewish education and best educational practices together, and has been working in teaching texts, reaching and inspiring students, and looking at challenging issues in the real world in which we live and how we bring these three elements together for the past forty-plus years. Sunnie has published widely in a variety of venues on topics like women in faith, inclusion of LGBTQ members in our communities of faith, environmental sustainability, prayer, G-d talk, the importance of interfaith and intrafaith dialogue, and Palestinian-Israeli relations beyond the conflict. Sunnie is presently serving as Educational Consultant to ESHEL, the National LGBT Inclusion Consortium for the Orthodox Community, running intergenerational learning groups, teaching shiurim (participatory classes

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of text learning) in various communities, and continuing to develop creative ways of teaching texts to many groups. Her book Life Journeys: Stepping Back and Moving Forward was published in February 2017 and is available through Amazon.com. Abdoul  Aziz  Gaye holds a PhD and master’s in Arabic Language, Literature, and Civilization from the University of Geneva, Switzerland; license (BA equivalent) in Arabic studies from the University of Geneva, Switzerland; postgraduate diploma in teaching Arabic language for nonnative speakers from King Saud University, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia; and a license (BA equivalent) in Arabic language from the University of Medina, Saudi Arabia. His teaching and research interests include world religions; religious fundamentalism; ideology of current jihadist movements; Wahhabi ideology related to the use of armed violence; Islamism in North America, Europe, and Africa; interfaith dialogue; Islamic studies; and Arabic Language, culture, and civilization. June-Ann  Greeley  is the Director of the Middle Eastern Studies program at Sacred Heart University. She is trained in classical languages and literature and medieval studies, specifically late antique and medieval theology and literature, religious and intellectual history, and classical/medieval (Latin) poetry. As a scholar, she has presented at conferences and published along two tracks: she translates and interprets late antique, Celtic, and medieval Latin theological and literary works and explores late antique and medieval spirituality, including the literature of medieval women, medieval mystics (Christian and Sufism); sacred art and architecture; medieval and modern Celtic authors; the emergence of Islam in medieval Europe; Dante studies; and global medievalisms. Paul  Hedges is Associate Professor of Interreligious Studies in the Studies in Interreligious Relations in Plural Societies Programme, RSIS, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He has published over a dozen books and sixty papers dealing with issues relating to such fields as interreligious relations and method and theory in religious studies, amongst others. Recent books include Comparative Theology: A Critical and Methodological Perspective (2017) and Towards Better Disagreement: Religion and Atheism in Dialogue (2017), while he has two forthcoming books under contract, Understanding Religion: Method and Theory for Studying Religiously Diverse Societies (California University Press 2021) and Religious Hatred: Anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and Prejudice in Global Perspective (Bloomsbury 2021).

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Saiyida Zakiya Hasna Islam,  PhD, has been a lifelong educator, active in interfaith events both as a speaker and as a panelist in many universities, such as Penn State University, Saint Joseph’s University, and the Philadelphia Art Museum, as well as churches and synagogues. Her PhD dissertation was about how the mystical vision encompasses all faith traditions as exemplified by the oral discourses of the twentieth-century mystic Bawa Muhaiyaddeen, titled “Bawa Muhaiyaddeen: A Study of Mystical Interreligiosity.” She is an associate of the Dialogue Institute of Temple University and has been involved with the Interfaith Center of Greater Philadelphia for more than a decade. As a board member of the Women’s Sacred Music Project, she is engaged in bringing in the interfaith message through compositions in sacred music. She has been teaching undergraduate courses on comparative religion, and exploring diversity, and has taught for the intellectual heritage program. These courses include exploring diverse spiritualities with a focus on promoting tolerance and coexistence. John G. Quilter  is a member of the School of Philosophy at Australian Catholic University. His interests range widely in Philosophy though his work has mostly been focused in areas of moral philosophy, Ancient and Medieval Philosophy and the philosophy of religion. He has published in areas of Classics, philosophy of religion, moral philosophy, philosophy of science and metaphysics and history of philosophy. He has been the Chief Examiner of Studies of Religion courses in the NSW High School Certificate and has served on numerous Ethics Committees in hospitals and other organisations. Jason Okrzynski  is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ and is serving as Senior Pastor of United Protestant Church of Grayslake, IL (UCC, UMC). In 2013 he completed his PhD in Practical Theology from Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary in Evanston, IL, with a focus on Christian education and congregational studies. His ongoing scholarly interests include Protestant faith and race making, contemplative and mystagogical practices, youth ministry, and practical theological approaches to ontology and culture. His work is further informed by the wisdom gained through twenty years of applying theory to practice in the real world through his service in congregations. During his two decades of parish leadership, he has developed transformative programming and pedagogies and brought them to engagement with his parishioners through teaching, preaching, and pastoral care. He has worked with all ages, in

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professional suburban communities, and done extensive work in interreligious and intercultural partnerships as well as extensive work serving the homeless and marginalized. Yahya Pallavicini  studied at “La Sapienza” University of Roma and has also studied in Paris, Cairo, and Kuala Lumpur. Pallavicini is president of COREIS, the Islamic Religious Community of Italy, one of the principal organizations of institutional representation of Islam in Italy with a vocation for theological training, ecumenism, and intercultural education in the West. Pallavicini has been a member of the Italian Minister of the Interior’s Council on Islam in Italy since 2005. Moreover, he is a member of the ECRL European Council of Religious Leaders and ISESCO Ambassador for Dialogue Among Civilizations. In 2018 he was nominated as Executive Member of the World Council of Muslim Communities as delegate for interreligious dialogue and invited by the Council of Elders for the launch of the Abu Dhabi Declaration on Fraternity by Pope Francis and shaykh Ahmad al-Tayyeb from al-­Azhar al-Sharif in 2019. Barbara Pemberton  is Professor of Christian Missions and Director of the Carl Goodson Honors Program at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkadelphia, Arkansas. Pemberton’s interest in mystical traditions began during her doctoral studies at Baylor University as she studied world religions. She lived for over ten years in Saudi Arabia and has Sufi friends with whom she continues to have fruitful conversations. Pemberton frequently speaks on Christian-Muslim relations and has included mysticism in her world religions and Islam classes for over twenty years. Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz  is Buddhist Chaplain and Visiting Assistant Professor of the Humanities at Bard College, New York. Her PhD is in comparative literature. She established an archive on the history of exhibition since 1960 at the Center for Curatorial Studies at Bard College. She conducts research on Joseph Beuys and the intersection of the arts, spirituality, and ecology. She follows the Zen path of haiku, painting (sumi-e), and teaching (chado). Muhammad Shafiq  is Professor of Religious Studies at Nazareth College. He directs the Hickey Center for Interfaith Stairs and holds the IIIT Chair for Islamic and Interfaith Studies. He teaches courses in Islamic, interfaith studies, and comparative religious studies. He directs the interdisciplinary minor in Interfaith Studies in the College. Shafiq’s research interests include interfaith and Islamic studies and the relationships among reli-

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gion. He served as a co-chair of the RASE (Racial and Structural Equity) Commission of the City of Rochester and Monroe County. He has built good relations with interfaith organizations and is invited to lead and present at national and international conferences. He holds BA and MA degrees from Peshawar University, Pakistan, and an MA and a PhD from Temple University (1982), returning to Temple University for a post-doc Fulbright research fellowship in 1988–89. He has published more than fifty articles in various languages, published four books, including his thesis, and co-edited five books. Ori Z. Soltes  teaches theology, art history, philosophy, and politics at the Center for Jewish Civilization of the School for Foreign Service at Georgetown University. He is the author of scores of books, articles, and exhibition catalogue essays. Among these are a dozen articles and exhibition catalogues that bear directly on this subject. Some of his books include Searching for Oneness: Mysticism in the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Traditions; Our Sacred Signs: Symbols in Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Art; The Ashen Rainbow: Essays on the Holocaust and the Arts; and Embracing the World: Fethullah Gulen’s Thought and Its Relationship to Jalaluddin Rumi and Others. Hussam  S.  Timani  is Professor of Philosophy and Religion and co-­ director of the Middle East and North Africa Studies Program at Christopher Newport University. He is the series editor of “Lexington Studies in Classical and Modern Islamic Thought.” Timani holds BA in Political Science from the University of California, Irvine, and PhD in Islamic Studies from the University of California, Los Angeles. He is the author of two monographs, Modern Intellectual Readings of the Kharijites (2008) and Takfir in Islamic Thought (2017), and the co-editor of two contributed volumes, Strangers in this World: Multireligious Reflections on Immigration (2015) and Post-Christian Interreligious Liberation Theology (2019). He has also authored more than 20 book chapters and journal/ encyclopedic articles on classical and modern Islamic religious thought, comparative theology, and interfaith studies. Timani is a frequent speaker on Islam and interfaith studies and leads community seminars on scriptural reasoning. He is the recipient of the 2017 National Association for the Advancement of the Colored People Award and the 2009 Rumi Forum Education Award for service, leadership, and dedication to the cause of dialogue, peace, tolerance, community service, and understanding.

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Dorris van Gaal  Netherland native and PhD candidate, holds a master’s in Theology from Katholieke Universiteit in Nijmegen with a major in Dogmatic Theology and Missiology and minors in Church and Theology in Africa and Exegesis of the Old Testament. She has been a lay pastor for Roman Catholic parishes with large migrant communities from Suriname, the Dutch Antilles, and Vietnamese boat refugees. She migrated with her husband and children to Baltimore, Maryland, where she continued working for the Roman Catholic Church, developing faith formation programming for seven parishes in Northeast Baltimore. She taught courses at Loyola University in Maryland and Notre Dame of Maryland University. Her PhD research is titled “Stories of Transformation: Correlating Narrative of African Migrants to the USA and the Narrative of the Dark Night of St. John of the Cross.” Christian van Gorder  finished courses in English Literature and Biblical Studies at the University of Pittsburgh and Oral Roberts University and World Religions at Asbury Theological Seminary before completing his doctorate in Muslim and Christian Relations at the Queen’s University of Belfast, Ireland. He has also completed courses at the American Hellenic University in Greece, Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland, and the National University of Singapore. He lived in Western China for six years where he taught intercultural studies at the Yunnan University in Kunming. He also worked for four years for a Dutch human rights organization serving persecuted Christians based in the Netherlands called Open Doors International. He taught world religions for seven years at Messiah College in Central Pennsylvania and since 2004 has focused on Islamic studies and world’s religions. Martin  Awaana  Wullobayi has his doctorate in Arabic and Islamic Studies from PISAI. Since 2011, he has been teaching at PISAI for a range of courses, including Islamic law, Christian texts, Sufism, and language laboratory (practicum). He has written many works and conducted research for publications, articles, and book reviews.

List of Figures

Fig. 2.1 Fig. 2.2 Fig. 2.3 Fig. 2.4 Fig. 2.5 Fig. 2.6 Fig. 2.7 Fig. 2.8 Fig. 2.9 Fig. 2.10 Fig. 3.1 Fig. 3.2 Fig. 3.3

Barnett Newman: The Name II, 1950 (magna and oil on canvas; NGA, Wash, DC) 20 Marc Rothko: White Over Red, 1957 (oil on canvas; private collection)21 Anselm Kiefer: Zim Zum, 1990 (acrylic, emulsion, crayon, shellac, ashes, and canvas on lead; NGA, Wash, DC) 22 Samuel Bak: Pardes III, 1994 (oil on canvas; courtesy Pucker Gallery)24 Jane Logemann: Water (Hebrew/Arabic), 2017 (ink and oil on muslin; courtesy of the artist) 27 Parvis Tanavoli: Heech, 1975 (bronze on wood base, Grey Art Gallery)28 Victoria Martin, Sefer Ha-Razim and the Big Bang, 2000 (acrylic on canvas; courtesy of the artist) 30 Makoto Fujimura: Trinity, 1994 (mineral pigments and gold leaf on Japanese screen; private collection) 31 Beth Ames Swartz, Spherot #1, from States of Change series, 1999 (acrylic, gold leaf, and mixed media on shaped circular canvas; courtesy of the artist) 32 Ahmet Saral: Rumi, 1995 (Ebru: oil and water on paper; courtesy of the artist) 33 Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Enso, ink on paper 38 Seido Suzuki Roshi (abbot of Funakizan Toshoji, Okayama): 威儀即仏法 igi soku buppou Dignity is Buddha Nature 40 Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Mountain of Truth, ink on wood 43

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Fig. 3.4

Fig. 3.5 Fig. 3.6 Fig. 3.7

Tea room (chashitsu) by Michiko Souho 宗穂 Baribeau (tea ceremony and ikebana master, Stanfordville, NY). On the scroll (kakemono) in the tokonoma it reads: 開門落葉多 Opening the gate, found the ground covered with fallen leaves Flower (ikebana) arrangement by Shundo Aoyama Roshi (abbess of Aichi Senmon Nisodo), March 2020 Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Embracing Oneself, ink on paper Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Be One, ink on paper

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction Thomas Donlin-Smith

Mystical Traditions: Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence is another installment in the series of volumes flowing from the “Sacred Texts and Human Contexts” conferences convened by the Hickey Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue and its partner institutions. Previous conferences and essay volumes have brought an interfaith lens to examine topics such as wealth and poverty, the environmental crisis, sex and gender, and violence. This time around the subject is mysticism and its possible contributions to a positive common human future. This is not a naïve, one-sided celebration of the supposed wisdom and moral rectitude of the mystical religious traditions. To be blunt, like everything human, religion has its share of stupidity, ugliness, and evil. However, participants in the interfaith dialogue project are convinced that: religion has also been a vehicle of the true, the beautiful, and the good; at any rate, religion is too socially powerful to ignore; we can make choices about which truths and values to emphasize from the vast pool of the human religious experience; and we share a responsibility to make those choices in a manner that promotes the global good.

T. Donlin-Smith (*) Religious Studies Department, Nazareth College, Rochester, NY, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_1

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As any scholar of religious studies can attest, mysticism has been a perennially analyzed and debated aspect of the phenomenon of religion. Some of the most influential figures in the religious studies pantheon (e.g., Durkheim, James, Otto, Weber) had much to say on the subject. Debates over definitions always haunt discussions of religion (starting with the word “religion” itself) and so too with discussions of “mysticism.” Definitions matter as they set the boundaries of the discussion, filtering and coloring what will be allowed into the conversation. Thus, what counts as “mysticism?” It seems to point to an emotionally intense, experiential dimension of religion, but can more be safely said? Does the term point to a universal reality in human experience, or is it a social construct reflecting a specific cultural milieu that distorts reality when exported to other contexts? Should we abandon the term altogether or does it serve a useful purpose, at least when used with a critical understanding of its baggage? Beyond the definition question there are questions of how to analyze and explain mysticism. Is it possible and helpful to identify common features or types of mysticism, or do such typologies inevitably fail to account for, and distort our perceptions of, real human experience? Can mystical experiences, or some instances of them, be reduced to underlying natural causes regardless of how those who had the experiences feel about it? For example, can mystical experiences be adequately accounted for by sociological, psychological, or neurological explanations? It is not the goal of this volume to resolve or even engage extensively these important scholarly issues. Some authors of the chapters address these issues in passing, but most focus more upon the personal and social implications of religious figures and movements commonly accepted as mystical. While some readers might be frustrated by this decision, others will accept our sacrifice of theoretical depth in order to present a wide range of chapters on the practical impact of mystical spirituality for interfaith relations and the common good. Regardless of the practical and irenic agenda of the chapters within this book, the astute reader will notice that the theoretic questions continue to bubble just beneath the surface. The book is organized into three parts—“Studies of Mystical Traditions,” “Comparative Studies of Mystical Traditions,” and “Social and Ethical Implications”—although individual chapters often have connections to more than one of these broad headings. A quick scan of Part One offers a taste of the broad range of spiritual traditions, sources, and historical contexts addressed in the volume: from Buddhism to the

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Abrahamic traditions; from classic theological texts to poetry, visual art, and biographical testimonies; from pre-history to today. Ori Soltes’ chapter, “Mysticism, Visual Art, and Repairing the World in a Strife-ridden Secular Age,” is a fitting opening for the book as it begins with a concise introduction to mysticism as a general phenomenon, and sketches the outline of mystical themes found in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. A novice (a particularly appropriate word?) student of mysticism will find these opening pages especially valuable. And yet, the truly distinctive focus of this chapter is found beyond this point as Soltes surveys the work of ten artists who exemplify the “universal yearning to use the connection with the mystical divine to shape a more perfect human world.” The connection between mysticism and art continues with Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz’s “The Zen Arts: A Mystical Entry Point to a World of Oneness.” The chapter opens with this wonderfully evocative image of the creation of the enso circle: Slowly grinding a scented sumi inkstick on an inkstone, pouring water from a delicate water dripper, making deliberate round movements, the artist continues until the ink is smooth and glistening, a saturated black. Breathing in, breathing out. The artist picks up a brush, carefully dips the pointed tip into the ink, concentrates the mind, touches the rice paper where the ink immediately leaves a mark, and with a swift gesture executes a circle. The universe has been expressed, in that very moment: interconnected, complete.

From here we are treated to both the theory and practice of other Zen meditative arts such as calligraphy, haiku, the tea ceremony, ikebana, and chanting. Throughout it all, experiencing the “world of oneness” is a recurrent Zen theme and one which resonates with many other chapters throughout this book. In fact, Saundra Sterling Epstein’s “Jewish Mysticism: Teachings About Unity and Discord” provides an immediate continuation of the theme of oneness, or unity, but within the very different cultural context of Jewish Kabbalah. Epstein deftly details Kabbalah thought and emphasizes its world-immersed and affirming qualities. Rather than an escapist spirituality, Jewish mysticism faces up to the questions, “Why is this world not perfect? Why is there so much discord?” and answers, “Precisely so that the human being can utilize their free will to choose correctly and try to leave it a bit better by learning to do God’s will and to be unified with that will.”

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In a return to the theme of mysticism and the arts, Fariba Darabimanesh and Christian van Gorder discuss the work of one of the most famous exemplars of Sufism, the thirteenth-century poet Jalal al-din Rumi. Their chapter, “‘The Immense Oceans of God’s Love:’ Rumi’s Oceanic Imagery,” explores “The Great Master’s” “use of images of the sea as a realm of purity and as a holder of divine secrets.” Immersion in “oceans of divine presence,” riding out “the storms of life,” voyaging on “the sea of the soul,” and experiencing “oceans of love” are metaphors explored in the chapter, providing a rich sense of Rumi’s Sufi worldview and poetic power. One other chapter in Part One also focusing on Islam is Abdoul Aziz Gaye’s “The Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi Order Approach to Peaceful Coexistence Through Mawlana Sheikh Nazim Al-Haqqani’s Words and Actions.” Rather than working with a classic source of centuries ago, Gaye gives us a very recent example of a mystic, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim (1922–2014), a Turkish Cypriot Sufi. Mawlana emphasized Rabbānism, which “means to be with the Lord and for Him: be with Him by knowing and worshipping Him; be for the Lord by educating and doing good deeds for all human beings irrespective of their faiths, races or origins.” Rabbānism undermines all sectarian differences (both intra- and inter-­ religious) and, when combined with his moral imperative of “love and be loved,” became the basis for Mawlana’s impressive life of interfaith cooperation. Christianity is represented in Part One by Jason Okrzynski’s “Benedictine Evangelicalism: Human Flourishing, Peacemaking, and Protestant Pedagogy Today.” This astute comparative chapter on Miraslov Volf, Martin Luther, and St Benedict of Nursia is no mere historical, academic exercise. From these three figures he constructs a remarkable “Benedictine evangelicalism” as a way in which Protestant Christianity may “recover its mystical life in our modern world” and provide an alternative to a modern world that promotes “power, security, and individualism by participation in commodity consumption.” Part Two of the book, “Comparative Studies of Mystical Traditions,” opens with John G. Quilter’s “Cupitt’s New Religion of the Everyday in the Global Context.” Quilter provides a detailed analysis of Don Cupitt’s career of wrestling with the implications of secularization, globalization, and postmodernism for Christian theology and the experience of the sacred. As Quilter shows, Cupitt finds interfaith efforts as well as new religious movements wanting in their ability to provide what contemporary

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people need. Instead, he turns to a wide variety of religious and philosophical sources (especially Buddhist sources) in an attempt to construct a “religion of the everyday” relevant to our current circumstances. Thomas Cattoi also draws connections between Christianity and Buddhism in his chapter, “Transcending the Letter, Awakening the Mind: Maximos the Confessor and Tsong Kha Pa and The Challenge of Textual Supersessionism.” In this unusual comparison of the scriptural hermeneutics of Byzantine and Tibetan scholars, Cattoi focuses on versions of “supersessionism” found in both traditions, identifying “some points of contact as well as a number of irreducible differences.” Elizabeth Adams-Eilers’ “On The Rasā’il of the Ikhwān al Ṣafā’ and Bonaventure’s Mind’s Road into God” continues the theme of comparative analysis, in this case considering forms of mysticism with strong implications for environmental theology and ethics. As she describes it, her chapter “explores how two classical studies of the ‘Books of the Creatures,’ one Muslim and one Christian, could be said to encourage human recognition of kinship with other creatures as a necessary, good, and true element of the path toward union with God.” Intra-religious comparison is at play in Saiyida Zakiya Hasna Islam’s “Beyond Separations: Mystics Merging Across Time and Space.” The separations of “time and space” are significant as Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi was a twelfth-century figure from Andalusia who traveled throughout the Middle East, and Bawa Muhaiyaddeen was a twentieth-century immigrant from Sri Lanka to the United States. Despite their considerable differences, Islam finds a similar “integrative vision” in these Sufis’ teachings and draws positive implications for interfaith relations. She tells us, “This transcending of all the seeming separations and differences in the temporal world is at the core of the mystic vision from all traditions. This bespeaks of the inherent interreligiosity in them.” As demonstrated in several of this volume’s chapters, comparative analysis often proceeds by focusing on a specific theme that serves as a bridge between figures of different times and places. For Hussam S. Timani, that theme is al-fana, or annihilation of the self in God. In “Al-Fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s and Eckhart’s Thoughts: The Annihilation of the Many in the One,” Timani gives us a compelling comparison of this theme in the work of two famous Muslim and Christian mystics. Furthermore, Timani intends this chapter to contribute to a new approach to interfaith relations: an “esoteric and theosophical understanding of how Christianity and Islam can come together in the age of globalization.”

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“Social and Ethical Implications” are drawn or implied in many of the chapters throughout the volume, but the final section of the book contains contributions that bring these matters to the forefront. Paul Hedges, in “Identity, Prejudice, and Mysticism: Exploring Sustainable Narratives of Peace Across Religious Borders,” begins the considerations with a bracing critique of the concept of “mysticism” and its supposed ireneic core. He builds upon the work of Grace Jantzen, demonstrating how “mysticism” has been constructed in ways that enforce unequal power relations and obscure the political and ethical concerns of persons placed in the “mystical” category. An important skeptical voice within this volume, Hedges implores us to “build better narratives of religious coexistence in the human world, not seek mystical validation to love another.” Hedges is no doubt correct that identifying a spiritual practice as “mystical” is no guarantee of its ethical efficacy, and the reader is encouraged to consider how his critique would fare when applied to the arguments of other chapters in this volume. The following chapter, “Migration and the Mystical-theological tradition: Migration Experiences and the Experience of a Dark Night,” by Dorris van Gaal, is a highly creative application of John of the Cross to the experience of recent African migrants to the United States. Studying the correlation of African migration narratives with John’s narrative of the dark night enhances our understanding of spiritual transformation and demonstrates how “John’s writings continue to speak to contemporary experiences of impasse and liminality.” Van Gaal’s discussion likely has useful applications to many spiritual biographies beyond those considered in this chapter. Barbara B. Pemberton, like some of our other contributors, finds Sufi texts to be especially promising for interfaith relations. Her “Polishing the Mirror of the Heart: Sufi Poetic Reflections as Interfaith Inspiration for Peace” is a well-developed exploration of Sufi poetic themes of the heart. Pemberton reminds us that Sufi poetry has been both beautiful and socially potent. “Not only has it offered a direct experience of God without the mediation of clergy, it has provided many communities a satisfying socio-­ cultural pattern, vehicle for expression of environmental concerns, and even an avenue of protest against political tyranny.” As it was with van Gaal, the experience of the Muslim minority in the West is the context for Yahya Pallavicini’s “Eschatological Politics and Intellectual Jihad: Shaykh Ahmad ibn Idris’s Legacy in Europe.” In particular, he provides an interesting exploration of the al-Tariqa

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al-Muhammadiyya, the “Muhammadian way,” as taught by Sheikh Ahmad ibn Idris (d. 1837), and how it influences one strain of European Muslim renewal spirituality. Mystical thought and practice are always socially contextualized, and Pallavicini is both articulate and urgent in describing the need for a spirituality that provides Europeans an alternative to the extremes of arid secularism and religious fundamentalism. As one of the greatest intellectual and spiritual figures in the history of Islam, it is fitting that at least one chapter of this volume would focus on the work of Abu Hamid Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Tusi al-Shafi’i al- Ghazali (1058–1111). June-Ann Greeley’s “Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s ‘On the Duties of Brotherhood’ as a Modern Guide for Peaceful Coexistence” does exactly that, focusing on a particularly ethically charged section of his great work, “The Revival of Religious Sciences.” Greeley concludes that “The spiritual teachers are empathetic believers who understand that God speaks to everyone and not a select few. Al-Ghazali is one such spiritual teacher.…His words echo over centuries to speak to all generations and all religious persuasions because of his devotion, his honesty, his benevolence, and his optimism.” The final chapter invites readers to consider Sufi spirituality in one more cultural context: twentieth-century Sudan. In this case, Martin Awaana Wullobayi explains the exegetical, historical, and ethical thought of the Sudanese Sufi reformer Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā. As the title (“Marriage in ‘Sharı ̄‘a and Ḥ aqı ̄qa’: Mystical Marriage in the Thought of Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā”) indicates, Wullobayi focuses on Ṭ āhā’s teachings regarding marriage. Inspired by the Sufi concept of ḥaqı ̄qa (higher truth or reality) and a distinctive interpretation of the Qur’an, Ṭ āhā taught his followers that “the original teaching of Islam involves complete equality between men and women, as expressed by the equal responsibility men and women have before God on the day of judgment.” With this, we see once again the connecting line from mystical spirituality to social critique and new patterns of living. The notion that the world’s “mystical traditions” can provide effective “approaches to peaceful coexistence” is, for some contributors to this volume, a firm conviction, while for others it is a fragile hope. Some are altogether skeptical and warn us of illusions and pitfalls to avoid. Developing our own thinking on the question begins with attending closely to these varied testimonies and considering the examples and arguments offered. Placing the testimonies together under a single cover allows us to imagine the authors as empathetic conversation partners whose collective wisdom

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is greater than the sum of the parts. Furthermore, each reader will bring experiences and questions of their own to contribute to the conversation. Whether one regards such an imagined conversation as a strictly rational exercise, or in some sense a “mystical” communion of minds (there’s that definition problem again!), it is nevertheless a valuable approach to peaceful coexistence.

PART I

Studies of Mystical Traditions

CHAPTER 2

Mysticism, Visual Art, and Repairing the World in a Strife-ridden Secular Age Ori Z. Soltes

Beginning with a brief discussion of religion, the fundamental and ultimate ineffability of God, and within religion, the paradoxic nature of mysticism—as intensely shaped within the mystic’s particularized faith, yet, by way of the abandonment of the mystic’s ego, potentially universalistic— this chapter examines works by several modern and contemporary artists, addressing their conscious and unconscious engagement of mystical thought. Given the theodicy questions provoked by twentieth-century traumas, it is inevitable that both verbal and extra-verbal human instruments be put to use in addressing such questions. Barnett Newman, Mark Rothko, Anselm Kiefer, Samuel Bak, Jane Logemann, Parviz Tanavoli, Victoria Martin, Makoto Fujimura, Beth Ames Swartz, and Ahmed Sarel offer diverse approaches to and aspects of the concerns of mysticism; each offers a different angle of access to the realm of divinity and to forging connections between divinity and varied features within the human realm. Works by these artists in their particular

O. Z. Soltes (*) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_2

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styles resonate from the kinds of notions articulated in the universalizing sensibilities of mystics like St Francis of Assisi, Jalaluddin Rumi, and Abraham Abulafia, as their art can and often seeks to be a potential instrument for helping to improve the fractious world in which we live.

Introduction: Religion and the Problem of Language One might begin this discussion with some preliminary observations regarding religion and its instruments. The word “religion” is a simple development of the Latin word religio, the root of which—“-lig-”—means a “binding.” Since re- means “back” or “again,” religion binds a community back or again to the sacred realm that it assumes created it.1 Religion addresses that inherently neutral but potentially positive or negative realm and seeks to understand it, so that we survive: blessed not cursed, created not destroyed. If in a fundamental sense for Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, “in the beginning was the word”—since, after all, “God said ‘let there be…’” and the world began—that simple proposition is fraught with complications along multiple lines. While language extends humans beyond other species in the complexity of ideational representation that it makes possible, it is limited and limiting. No quantity or quality of words can perfectly capture the beauty of a sunset or of love. How much more so God? How can one describe and discuss God, when anything and everything one might say about or to God is necessarily expressed with a vocabulary drawn from our own limited human experience? Every word that we use to describe God—as all-­ powerful, or all-good, or engaged—falls short of its task. Everything we say is at best metaphor and analogy: we cannot know what “powerful” or “good” or “engaged” means in God’s terms. What is the vocabulary that God uses, derived from Divine experience? Does God have a vocabulary? Does God use words? Does God speak? With what physiological mechanism? Lips and tongue, pharynx and larynx? In our need to make the divine realm more accessible, humans have not only evolved religions, using words to evolve prayers to address divinity 1  For a discussion of how the term “sacred” derives from the Latin sacer and of the broader implications of the Latin term, see Soltes, Magic and Religion in the Greco-Roman World, 15–28.

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and accounts—myths2—to describe how divinity shaped the world that we hope we know. It has turned to other instruments—so must and does mysticism.

Mysticism and Egoless Universalism Mysticism is an intense subset of religion. Mystics believe that there is a hidden recess within God that everyday religious practice does not access, but that the mystic can. The term mysterion—paradoxically “innermost,” since spatial indicators are non-operative in the divine realm—derives from the Greek verb mystein, meaning “to close”—and by extension, “to hide.” The mystic hopes for a condition of ecstasy—or enstasy. Ecstasy is a condition of being/standing outside one’s self—from Greek ek- (“outside of”) + stasis (“standing”). But the mystical condition may also be called enstasis (enstasy), for the timeless and spaceless God is as much within (en-) us as “out there.” To be intimate with the mysterion one must transcend one’s self. Put otherwise: to be filled with God, one must empty one’s self of self. See Soltes (2008) and Kohav (2013). The purpose of mysticism is to help improve the spiritual life of the community of which one is part (whether defined as a small group or the entire human race). One’s goal in seeking to enter/be filled with the mysterion is not—cannot—be simply to achieve one’s own enlightenment, for that would be too self-ish. One’s goal must be to achieve enlightenment in order to enlighten others. The mystic seeks transformation in order to transform the community to which s/he returns—thus mystics can play a potentially significant role in putting together a fragmented world.3 Over the course of the past two millennia, as Judaism and Christianity emerged as rival siblings from their common Hebrew-Israelite-Judaean parent—and as, by the early seventh century, Islam arrived as a younger sibling within that same spiritual family—each of these three traditions

2  From the Greek mythos, meaning simply “account,” but in the context of early Greek literature, “gods’ truth account,” since by definition, stories such as those Homer tells, of divine activity in the context of the Trojan War, or that Hesiod tells regarding the very birth of the gods, can only derive from the gods themselves. Such accounts—mythoi—are thus understood to derive from sacer sources that have inspired these poets with their knowledge of such matters. 3  For more detail on what mysticism is all about, see Soltes: Mysticism in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam: Searching for Oneness, 1–10.

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developed its own particulars with regard to the optimal means of accessing the mysterion. Jewish mysticism, obsessed with God’s words, particularly words found in the Torah—but aware of the disturbing limits of our understanding of those words—among its other features, consistently deconstructs words into their constituent sound-letter elements. Perhaps that is not even enough. In Hebrew, every letter has a numerical value, so numbers may also be put into play to extract hidden meanings from words and phrases based on various numerological systems. Since, for instance, the very name of God in its standard form in Hebrew, YHVH, consists of four consonants, then perhaps the number “four” itself might harbor hidden meanings—particularly given that the fourth letter of the Hebrew alphabet, dalet, is derived from a pictogram for a door (delet in Hebrew), helping to underscore the possibility of “fourness” as a doorway into the mysterion. This basic formulation is indeed the tip of a far more complex and detailed iceberg of thinking that surrounds the ineffable—unspeakable—Name of God. The concept of accessing God by accessing God’s True Name as the ultimate key to understanding the Creator, the Creation, and the mysterion, leads to other important words and concepts. Three different modes of playing with letters and words—termed tzeruf—evolve within the medieval Jewish mystical—kabbalistic—tradition. That for which the primary instrumentation is the numerical values of letters is called gematria. Thus, for instance, adding up the numerical values of YHVH (26), and deconstructing the Name, letter by letter— YHV = 21; YH = 15; Y = 10—and adding the letters together, yields 72. This provides one of the hidden names of God—for it equals 12 (the number of Israelite tribes) multiplied by 6 (the number of words, in Hebrew, in the all-important “Hear O Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One”)—and there are, moreover, 72 consonants in the three successive verses in Ex 14:19–21, in which the Israelites are saved from the pursuing Egyptians by the God of Salvation, as the waters of the Sea of Reeds part. A second form of tzeruf, temurah, interchanges root consonants in various words to reveal hidden meanings by way of connections between disconnected words that may even ordinarily offer opposite meanings. For example, the Hebrew words for “pain” (N’Ga) and “delight” (‘oNeG) are

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made of the same three differently ordered consonants.4 A third form of tzeruf, called notarikon, is an acrostic process, according to which the consonants of a given term are understood to represent different words that reveal the inner recesses of that term. Among the words and phrases to which the process of notarikon is applied is the term PaRDeS, meaning “garden” or “orchard.” Found only three times in the biblical text, in the mainstream rabbinic tradition Pardes is a metaphor for the realm of mystical speculation. Within the Kabbalah, however, PaRDeS is an indicator of how essential the mystical enterprise is. It assumes a fourfold system of biblical exegesis only the last of which can bring one into God’s innermost hiddenness. Each consonant refers to a method of exploring and interpreting God’s words. Pey (“P”) represents P’shat, which seeks a literal meaning; Resh (“R”) stands for Remez, which looks for an allegorical meaning; Dalet (“D”) signifies D’rash, which is the method of interpreting by means of standard rabbinic-style midrash—filling in lacunae and excavating the text by means of legends;5 Samekh (“S”) refers to sod, meaning “secret” and thus to the hidden, mystical meanings sought beneath the surface of the deepest depths of the texts. Sod includes the three different methods of tzeruf—among others. Christian mysticism, by contrast, focuses less obsessively on language (for reasons beyond this discussion). For Christianity, God assumes human form—specifically as a male: Jesus. In languages particularly relevant to emerging Christianity, and thus to Christian mysticism—Greek and Latin—every substantive is grammatically gendered as male, female, or neuter, and the word for soul (Greek: psyche; Latin: anima) is grammatically female. Thus St Augustine (354–428 CE) introduces into the account of the mystical mergence with the mysterion the idea that the mystic’s soul (as “female”) is joined to God (as “male”) in a manner analogous to male– female sexual congress. This pattern will crescendo in medieval Christian mysticism with prominent female mystics—from Hildegard of Bingen to St Catherine of Siena to St Teresa of Avila—whose relationships with the mysterion are couched either in terms of a mystical marriage to Jesus or, in Teresa’s case, a verbal description of an intense experience that analogizes spiritual ecstasy to  The “ ‘ ” represents the glottal consonant ’ayin.  Or, more literally: “digging beneath the surface,” which is what midrashic interpretation seeks to do. 4 5

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sexual ecstasy. Moreover, the physicality of God as Jesus yields to an emphasis on physical processes through which to become one with the One, from early martyrs emulating Christ’s suffering on the Cross to monastic deprivation—culminating in the intensity expressed by the stigmata endured by St Francis of Assisi. Muslim mysticism, commonly referred to as Sufism, offers both language and physicality as essential features. Islam evolves an expanding vocabulary of names that seek to capture God’s essence: whereas standard Islam offers 99 such names, Sufism asserts that the mystic can know many more of them. Further, a succession of Sufis describe the process of gaining access to the mysterion through an expanding vocabulary of terms that culminate in the description by Al-Qushairi (d. 1072/74) of 45 stages (maqamat; singular = maqam) and states (ahwal; singular = hal) through which the mystic must go to become completely filled with—completely lost within—the mysterion. The beginning point of that process is called dhikr—from an Arabic root meaning “memory” and implying that the beginning of the process is to become hyper-aware of God’s eternal presence all around and within one. As Sufism spread as far west as Morocco and as far east as India, a range of different Sufi orders—tariqas—emerged, identified with particular shaikhs (“teacher” in Arabic; in Persian: pir; in Urdu/Hindi: guru). Each tariqa has its own dhikr. In most cases this refers to a word or phrase that is the practitioner’s intense, repeated initial focus (spoken internally or out loud, depending upon the tariqa).  See Soltes (2008); and Khan (1999). The order associated with Rumi (1207–73), known as the Mevlevi Tariqa, however—evolving in Konya, Turkey (although Rumi was actually born in Balkh—in Afghanistan; at that time part of the Persian empire— and he wrote most of his prose and poetry in Farsi), following Rumi’s apparent lead—developed a physical dhikr. The dervishes (disciples) of the Mevlevi order whirl at a moderate rate, both around a centerless circular space and each spinning around the axis of one foot. With their eyes closed and heads tilted at a 23-degree angle (like the earth on its axis) each is simultaneously like the earth and, with one hand turned downward and the other upward, each is a bridge between earth and heaven. All three mystical traditions and their various subsets share with each other and with normative religious thought the challenge of accessing and describing the mysterion in spite of the limits of human capabilities— including the limits of complex and detailed language, and the limits of

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ego-bound convictions that “mine” is the only way to access God. If to be filled with God the mystic must empty him/her self of self, then what fills that emptiness is not only God, but an inclination to love all of God’s creatures—as is clear in the teachings of mystics like St Francis of Assisi, Ibn ‘Arabi, Rumi, and Abraham Abulafia.

Art, Religion, and Secularity Visual art is one of the instruments that often go where words cannot follow in addressing and expressing divinity and its relationship with the human realm. From the earliest paintings, created nearly 25,000  years ago—in the sacred spaces of caves below the earth’s profane surface, at sites like Lascaux, France, and the earliest sculptures, like the tiny (4 3/8” high) stone-age Venus of Willendorf, and in art that extends from Sumer to Babylonia to Rome, from the Medieval to the Renaissance to the Baroque—visual expression has continuously offered a vehicle of focus on the sacred. From Marduk and Ba’al to Amon and Ra to Zeus and Hera, and from Osiris and Horus to God the Father and Jesus the Son, artists in diverse media have offered visual representations of divinity and its engagement with humans in figurative and abstract styles that underscore its connection to our species.6 One might suppose that the increasing secularity of thought in the West during the past several centuries would yield a re-direction of the use of visual art. To some extent this has been true, but our destructive capabilities evolving from the industrial revolution, which culminated in the (literally) explosive traumas of the twentieth century, have led to increasingly vehement turns toward religious questions. Theodicy (“the justice of God”)—asking how the innocent can suffer in such abundance in a world made by a God deemed all-powerful, all-merciful, all-good, and interested and engaged in human affairs—provoked by these traumas, has made it even more inevitable that any and all human instruments be put to use in seeking answers to such questions. Interestingly, visual imagery centering on mystical concepts and questions has expanded.

6  For more detail on this, see Soltes: Our Sacred Signs: How Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Art Draw from the Same Source, 1–48.

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Post-Holocaust Art and Kabbalah: Newman, Rothko, Kiefer, and Bak Only relatively recently have more than a few art historians recognized the interest in Lurianic Kabbalah in the work of Jewish Chromaticist Abstract Expressionist painters like Marc Rothko and Barnett Newman, whose interest in the question of the Holocaust—How, they asked, do we as Jewish artists respond to a trauma that destroyed six million of our co-­ religionists?—intersected the question of where, as Jewish artists, they fit into Western, Christian art history, as well as the Lurianic kabbalistic concept of fixing the world: tikkun olam.7 Barnett Newman’s (1905–70) “zip” paintings, frameless, their pigment extending to the canvas edge, with a central line to which the eye is inevitably drawn—particularly those with names like Covenant or Onement—overtly suggest an abstract aesthetic expression of re-ordering the universe: the central “zip” holds together the unity of the opposing sides of the composition. Furthermore, one recognizes in that central “zip” an abstract reality simultaneously withdrawing from the universe of the colorfield that it holds together (as in Lurianic tzimtzum)8 and emerging, expanding, emanating (as in non-­ Lurianic kabbalistic atzilut)9 out into the colorfield that it pushes to the edge of the unframed canvas. In Newman’s 1950 The Name II the eye is drawn to the center of an image that is completely white, except for two thin golden lines that divide the visual plane into three equal components. Those familiar with the Jewish tradition would know that, since even the traditional circumlocution of God’s ineffable Name may be uttered by traditional Jews only in

7  They were intensely discussing this in each others’ studios in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Their interest in the question of Jewish art, and in Jewish mystical thought, especially that of Isaac Luria, was first presented in my 1984–90 video course Tradition and Transformation: A History of Jewish Art (Cleveland: Electric Shadows Productions). In the late 1990s the subject began to emerge for other art historians, notably Donald Kuspit. Note that in this discussion I have only been able to include a handful of artists and even fewer illustrations, due to space. See Soltes (2016). 8  Tzimtzum (“shrinkage,” “withdrawal)”) was the response of kabbalist Isaac Luria (1534–72) to the question: How is there room for the universe, when God is everything everywhere? God withdrew into an infinitesimal space. 9  ‘Atzilut (“emanation”) was the response to the question of creation on the part of the classical Kabbalah as presented in works like the Zohar. God emanated from Its absolute singularity out into the reality of creation.

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prayer,10 verbal references to God outside prayer are always made through what amounts to a double circumlocution that, in Hebrew, is HaShem— meaning “The Name.” Thus Newman’s painting is titled so that it informs the knowledgeable viewer of its subject: the God that cannot be depicted as Its very Name is ineffable. What in centuries of Christian art would be the figurative representation of God, as the Christ, in the center of a threefold canvas—a triptych, the very configuration of which is to symbolize the triune God—is here blank canvas, altogether devoid of color. But white is that pigment closest to light, the totality of color. Thus, like color, the image of God is simultaneously present (in the totality of hidden color that symbolizes the totality of the God-made, panhenotheistic universe) and absent (in the absence of overt color that symbolizes God’s absence from, withdrawal from, the universe into absolute no-­ thing-­ ness, as expressed in the Lurianic concept of tzimtzum). This addresses the Holocaust theodicy question as well: Where was God when so many were being tortured and massacred? God was both absent (for those whose intense suffering became proof of God’s absence) and present (for those who asserted that they survived only through their sense of God’s presence). Newman has depicted—without depicting—the mysterion of endless light and the endlessness beyond light that cannot be depicted or even spoken (Fig. 2.1). The canvasses of Mark Rothko (1903–70) scintillate differently with light. By soaking them in watered-down pigments, Rothko was able to inundate his images with broad bands of color that seem to approach and recede—typically three bands, like the number of the Trinity—toward and from a central emanating and withdrawing light source. That central element draws the eye: a symbol of wholeness and transcendent oneness (Fig. 2.2). Unlike Newman, Rothko offers no names for his paintings to hint at his spiritual intentions, but it may be no accident that his works hang not only in museums but around the walls of meditative spaces, which they suffuse with an atmosphere of sacred mystery.11 Both painters put the post-Auschwitz/Hiroshima world back together on their canvasses, commiting acts of visual tikkun. 10  And even that “Name” is a circumlocution for the ineffable Name of God known only to the High Priest in the Temple in Jerusalem when it stood in the past and to the messiah who will arrive in the future. 11  This is most obvious in the so-called Rothko Chapel next to the de Menil Museum in Houston, Texas, the interior space of which comprises simply white walls adorned with large Rothko paintings.

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Fig. 2.1  Barnett Newman: The Name II, 1950 (magna and oil on canvas; NGA, Wash, DC)

Four decades later, Anselm Kiefer’s work added another twist to this Holocaust-related turn: he was born in 1945, the year when World War II ended, and intermingles the issue of artistic creativity with the trauma— for him, as a Christian German—of destruction that defined the Holocaust. Kiefer grew up in a country in which, for the entirety of his youth, the subject of the Holocaust was never discussed, as if it hadn’t happened, or when some inkling that it happened was allowed, it was characterized as a minor event, distant in time, space, and conception from the Germany that authored it. Visually expressing what Faith insists is there in spite of Its invisibility is transmuted by Kiefer into visually expressing what history insists is there, when everybody involved asserts: I saw nothing; I heard nothing; I smelled nothing: it wasn’t there. Among his large-scale canvasses are several from

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Fig. 2.2  Marc Rothko: White Over Red, 1957 (oil on canvas; private collection)

the 1990s that address these questions through specific references to Jewish mysticism. Kiefer addresses the God-question with “Zim Zum” (1990).12 In ceding room for the universe by withdrawing into a corner of reality, God also ceded all-power, granting humans free will and thus the power to obey or disobey, to create or destroy. Kiefer’s enormous canvas, inscribed with its title, is dark and tumultuously textural. A series of orthogonals leads from below, where the observer stands, into the recesses of the upper part of the 12  Kiefer’s spelling is consistent with the German pronunciation of “z” as what in English would be “Ts” or “Tz.”

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canvas. The lines converge at a horizon line where Albertian thought would have located the “vanishing point.”13 But at that point in Kiefer’s painting we can discern a series of verticals that one might interpret as an abstract tower—such as the tower that marked the terminus of the train tracks at Auschwitz—by the 1990s, one of the iconic visual symbols of the Holocaust. The orthogonals become like multiplied lines of railroad tracks; the vanishing point is not merely Albertian, and not merely a reference to the Lurianic concept of God’s shrinkage but a reference to the vanishing of six million Jews toward that tower, and to the question of God’s presence or absence while that process was being enacted (Fig. 2.3).

Fig. 2.3  Anselm Kiefer: Zim Zum, 1990 (acrylic, emulsion, crayon, shellac, ashes, and canvas on lead; NGA, Wash, DC) 13  In his 1435 treatise Leon Battista Alberti discussed how a painter could create the illusion that his flat surface is volumetric, and thus that his two-dimensional image has three dimensions, by graphing out a series of diagonal—orthogonal—lines from the lower corners toward a meeting point, in the middle of the horizon line, that he termed the “vanishing point.”

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Moreover, rather than driving simply toward their vanishing point, the orthogonal lines leave open a vast, dark chasm just before they arrive at the horizon line where they disappear: like a black hole—a literal black hole on the image—in the otherwise untrammeled pattern of diagonal lines. “Black holes” are massive presences throughout the universe that suck the very light from beyond them into their depths. Like the Nazis, they are virtuosi at causing light itself around them to disappear. The issue of the ineffable God interweaves that of the indescribable Holocaust by way of the interweave of the vocabularies of physics, art history and Kabbalah. Very different—fully figurative—are the works of Samuel Bak that focus on kabbalistic concepts. Born in Vilnius in 1933—he was six years old at the start of World War II—Bak repeatedly uses the number “four,” often in the form of four doorways. His Pardes paintings allude to the fourfold approach to understanding the Torah, but filtered through re-visioning the world dominated in his childhood by so much destruction. These works, done in the mid-1990s, offer variations on a common motif: within a mountainous, semi-arid landscape, a rough-hewn stone structure rises, taking the shape of the Tablets of the Law lying, as it were, on their side. They are not a solid pair of stones, but a structure the walls of which present the traditionally depicted shape of the tablets, but roofless. There is often a winding path leading away from the structure toward the mountains—suggesting both the path to the Source of the Commandments and a yearning to find that Source. The interior of the structure is divided into four parts, each accessed from the “front” (the bottom of the “tablets”) by a door, and over each door a Hebrew letter is discernible—P, R, D, S—or the words are fully spelled out. In each version, looking (as Hebrew does) from right to left, each door (delet) is progressively difficult to enter—S/Sod is typically altogether blocked. But because the structure is roofless and the viewer hovers, God-­ like, above, s/he can see what is contained within: from the first chamber there grows a vibrant tree (a “tree of life to them that holdfast to it”— both the tree of life in the Garden of Eden and the Torah within Jewish thought). Within the second, subset walls and arches gradually lead to a pair of Decalogue Tablets, marked with the first ten letters of the Hebrew alphabet as stand-ins for the Ten Commandments, leaning up against the far wall. The third chamber is inhabited by a labyrinth—variously constructed in each version of the Pardes series. In the fourth—sod—representing the hidden, mystical method of trying to understand God’s word, a fiery altar with billowing smoke dominates in one version; in a second

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version it is a large open book from which flames and smoke rise (recalling the comment made by the German Jewish poet Heinrich Heine in an 1820–21 play that “where they burn books they will ultimately burn humans,” that became a fulfilled prophecy over a century later); in a third variation it is a fiery oven that requires little imagination to associate with the crematoria ovens at places like Auschwitz-Birkenau. Sometimes there is a ladder leading up into the smoke—but to nowhere (Fig. 2.4). Bak’s variations on the re-visioned Pardes theme are manifold. In one, the walls are dripping with what can only be blood. In a second, we see in

Fig. 2.4  Samuel Bak: Pardes III, 1994 (oil on canvas; courtesy Pucker Gallery)

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the sod quadrant the tops of both a chimney with smoke and the second of the two Decalogue Tablet tops—identifiable by the number “6” incised in the uppermost part of its stone. That number refers to the Commandment “thou shall not commit murder” that was most obviously ignored by the Nazis and their allies who turned the paradise world of the artist’s childhood into hell “officially” (the outset of war) when he himself turned six years old. The eerie silences of these spaces demand that we reclaim civilization within the repeating ravages of barbarism that lead out of Auschwitz to Biafra and Cambodia, Yugoslavia, and Rwanda. Bak’s vision underscores the post-Holocaust problematic not of God and God’s actions and/or inaction—theodicy—but of human actions and inaction. We end up where we began, with the ultimate goal of the mystical enterprise—to effect some measure of tikkun olam in the world.

Repetition and Singularity: Logemann and Tanavoli Other artists have engaged other aspects of the mystical tradition. In the work of Jane Logemann (b. 1942), pale hues wash over repeated words or letters. The repetitions—particularly in that if the writing reaches the edge of the canvas in the middle of a word she simply breaks it and completes its broken form on the next line—recall the mystical technique of repeating syllables and words to the point where the words are reduced to mindless sounds that transcend sense. But the often graduated, nuanced changes of pattern in color and form also recall purely formal exercises in conceptual art and music. Part of the result of Logemann’s work is to make the viewer aware of the process of creating it—one can’t look at these works and not be conscious of the slow, painstaking concentration—in Hebrew: kavanah— involved. Her works resonate with a sense of visual Hassidism, with its emphasis on praying with intense kavanah, while offering two particular directions of secularized visual thinking, one ancient, the other contemporary. The calligraphic component associates these multi-lingual expressions with cultures in which writing is an old, respected art form (not surprisingly, she has chosen languages whose writing systems relate to that sensibility). So, too, the subtle modulations of color connect them to Paul Klee as well as to Ad Reinhardt on the one hand; and the minimalist gestural quality of the marks that make up the letters and words, as well as the conceptual underpinnings, connects them to Sol Lewitt on the other.

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In its repetition and form, the calligraphy—particularly given that the words and letters are never in English, but rather in Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, Korean, or Japanese—is essentially “mind-less” (for most viewers won’t be able to read the words, but will perceive them simply as visual patterns), thus reinforcing the relationship to mystical method. And the choice of term that is endlessly repeated may be politically charged. Thus “Co-existence,” repeated ad infinitum on one side of the small canvas in Hebrew and on the other in Arabic, combines the mystical meditative aspect of kavanah and sense-less repetition with a political question that offers as little simplicity and clarity regarding an answer as does the question of God’s hiddenness (Fig. 2.5). Iranian Muslim artist Parviz Tanavoli (b. 1937) may be said to reverse Logemann’s process in a unique manner. Tanavoli is a founder of the Saqqakhaneh School, whose members offer intersections between contemporary Western art and traditional Muslim and specifically Persian art forms (Saqqakhaneh art has been called “spiritual pop art”). Tanavoli is best known for his Heech series, begun in 1965—and most particularly his Heech sculptures (Fig. 2.6).14 Heech is a Farsi word that means “nothingness.” Tanavoli’s pieces are diverse singular (as opposed to repetitive) sculptural representations of this word that, in the stylized calligraphic possibilities of Arabo-Persian script, can assume the visual form of a stylized human, complete with large open eyes. The application of Arabo-Persian writing to a sculptural format syncretizes a traditional mode of Muslim verbal-visual self-expression (calligraphy) with a Western mode (sculpture). This three-dimensional “figurative” sculptural mode is, however, subsumed into an abstract deformation that pushes it back toward an acceptable traditional mode of Islamic visual expression. In everyday Farsi parlance, the word heech came, in the mid-twentieth-­ century era of the Shah, to acquire a negative, specifically Westernized nuance—“nothingness” as an emptiness associated with existentialist angst and aloneness. Tanavoli reroutes that sensibility, as well (in fact, his Heech series is said to have begun in response to his feeling that Saqqakhaneh art had started to acquire too much of a commercial focus, derived from the West)—connecting it back to Sufi thought. In Sufism, “nothingness” 14  Perhaps the most effective overall discussion of these works, based on extensive interviews with the artist, is found in the article by Sholeh Johnston, “Heech: Poems in Three Dimensions,” in the journal Sufi.

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Fig. 2.5  Jane Logemann: Water (Hebrew/Arabic), 2017 (ink and oil on muslin; courtesy of the artist)

is a double positive: it refers to the nothingness from which God amazingly created everything that became the universe; and it connotes the emptiness of ego necessary for the mystic whose goal is to be filled with Godness. A Western, secular/post-Christian concept, captured in a Western form of visual expression, has been subsumed into an intense aspect of the Muslim Middle Eastern spiritual tradition.

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Fig. 2.6  Parvis Tanavoli: Heech, 1975 (bronze on wood base, Grey Art Gallery)

Criss-Crossing Traditions: Martin, Fujimura, Swartz, and Sarel There are Christian artists besides Anselm Kiefer who have been drawn to Jewish mystical themes, such as Chicago painter Victoria Martin (b. 1953). Her work often engages pre-kabbalistic, Merkavah mysticism, interweaving its ideas with those drawn from other spiritual traditions, Western and Eastern, or with contemporary scientific ideas—or seeks beneath the foundations of the Merkavah tradition along still earlier textual paths. In Martin’s Sepher Ha-Razim and the Big Bang, a series of rectilinear forms dominates the lefthand third of the image, ascending in a color sequence that moves from greens to blues to purples. These forms contrast with a curved form, dominated by blues, that fills out the righthand two-thirds. If the lefthand image draws the eye from bottom to top, the

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righthand image, in a nautilus-shell-like form, draws the eye from outside in toward its center, so that together these two primary elements in the painting struggle to push the viewer’s perspective from two to three dimensions. The lefthand image is a sevenfold ascent: these are the seven “camps” of the angels in pre-Jewish mysticism, but at the same time, a series of structures symbolize the seven lower heavens through which Enoch ascended and the seven lower chambers (heikhalot) of Merkavah mysticism. The seventh structure is intended as an image of the throne of God: the horizontal “beam” connecting its two inner pillars yields the shape of an “H”—one of the letters whose Hebrew equivalent stands for God’s unpronounceable name. It explodes with ten emanating sparks of light— and the entirety is surmounted by the aleph, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet (beginning of beginnings) and of the word “light” (’or). The righthand swirl revolves around an explosion of light—the Big Bang that begins with a hydrogen atom from which the universe is said to have emanated at the beginning of time, and from which it continues to extend. Swirling within the painting’s emanating nautilus-form are quasars and galaxies and a disc-like extrusion that is our solar system. The artist has sought to cast into visual terms the paradoxic and unimageable notions that define the cosmogonic landscapes of both pre-mystical and mystical texts and contemporary scientific theories (Fig. 2.7). Differently, Makoto Fujimura (b. 1960) offers a doorway into accessing the mysterion through visual art as a Christian artist whose cultural (as opposed to religious) background is double-sourced. He is a Japanese-­ American painter who lives and works in New  York City, heartland of Abstract Expressionism—but who went to Japan to study Nihonga, an old Japanese painting technique, partly to search for his own roots.15 Thus he thinks across visual cultures—and to this he has added an intensely meditative quality that recalls Newman and Rothko: his panels are intended to become abstract, purely colored windows into the mysterion for the meditative, tightly focused viewer. See Fujimura (2021). In his large (162” wide by 70” high) triptych The Trinity, gold leaf and red and blue pigments reflect traditional Western coloristic symbolism in 15  Nihonga (ni-hon is Japanese for “Japan[ese]” and ga means “painting”) uses finely ground vegetable and mineral pigments suspended in washes, glazes, and emulsions. This yields a delicate and clear quality more reminiscent of illuminated manuscripts than of large paintings (at least until the advent of the Chromaticists) in the Western tradition.

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Fig. 2.7  Victoria Martin, Sefer Ha-Razim and the Big Bang, 2000 (acrylic on canvas; courtesy of the artist)

painting—gold as all-valuable Truth, blue as true faith, red as sacrifice and love—while the shoji screen16 on which he has painted reflects the Eastern tradition (Fig 2.8). Each panel is actually a double panel, even more obviously suggesting Japanese screens. See Walstedt (1997). They also suggest doors—that lead to the sacred realm and, in the meditative depths engendered by the manner in which the inner colors seep through the outer colors, draw the eye into them, as doorways into the mysterion within the sacred. New York-born Beth Ames Swartz (b. 1936) offers yet another angled instance of cross-cultural mystical visual thought. She combines her interest in Kabbalah with focus on the Chakra system of Yoga, as well as on Taoism, Qi Gong, Buddhism, and Native American spirituality. The influence on her of literature that explores the kabbalistic notions of the ten 16  In Japanese architectural design shoji refers to a screen that functions as a room divider, whether free-standing or as a sliding door, typically made of a wooden frame with transparent washi paper (paper made using fibers from the bark of one of several kinds of plant or tree) stretched over it. Fujimura has had to layer his pigments very delicately over such a material.

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Fig. 2.8  Makoto Fujimura: Trinity, 1994 (mineral pigments and gold leaf on Japanese screen; private collection)

sephirot and the Four Worlds, and the concept of the Shekhinah (Divine Presence), has been consistent since the mid-1970s, and by the early 1980s this influence criss-crossed her study of healing processes derived from Native American traditions and her focus on the Chakras. One obvious example of this is her States of Change series, done between 1999 and 2001. In Sephirot #1 (1999), for instance, on a circular canvas (its shape a symbol of perfection, completion, of the God Who is without beginning and end) she superimposes the absolute order of a grid-system over the shadowy image of a figure seated in a basic cross-legged Yoga position; the lowest Chakra (that may be seen to correspond to malkhut, the lowest sephirah) is emphasized and the entirety is overrun with a delicate and chaotic gold leaf pattern: order and chaos meet in this image that offers a doorway into connecting profane and sacred by means of a yogic meditation that is labeled in kabbalistic terms (Fig. 2.9). Kabbalah’s emphasis on the Hebrew letters, inherited all the way from the pre-Merkavah Sepher Yetzirah, is central to Swartz’s Visible Reminders series painted in 2001 and 2002. Within 22 paintings (the number of consonants in the Hebrew alphabet) she “hides” letters, words, and phrases in order to push the viewer to see what is beyond the visible in order to uncover the invisible. Thus, for example, the seventh painting, “There is a Time” (2002), focuses on the seventh letter, zayin (which is the first letter in the Hebrew word for “time”—zman), deriving the

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Fig. 2.9  Beth Ames Swartz, Spherot #1, from States of Change series, 1999 (acrylic, gold leaf, and mixed media on shaped circular canvas; courtesy of the artist)

passage from the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, “to everything there is a time and a season under heaven.” She obscures the phrase, written and re-­ written across the canvas in a meditative repetition (whereby ultimately the mind, conscious of the profane sense of the words, will be emptied of that sense to allow space for God) by overlaying the words with horizontal bands of dripping black, gray, and white paint. Turkish-born artist Ahmed Saral, (b. 1955) uses visual paper marbling—invented by the Ottomans and known as Ebru—in a non-­traditional manner, often creating figurative and not only abstract images. One of the more notable of these depicts a whirling Dervish—Rumi himself, albeit

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stylized. For the artist, Rumi serves as a symbol of universal yearning to use the connection with the mystical divine to shape a more perfect human world (Fig. 2.10). Rumi’s poetry—“I enter a church, a mosque, a synagogue, and I see one altar,” for instance—exemplifies the principle that mysticism offers its practitioners a perspective that is simultaneously focused intensely on the

Fig. 2.10  Ahmet Saral: Rumi, 1995 (Ebru: oil and water on paper; courtesy of the artist)

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particular faith of the mystic and universal in its focus. This idea resonates from tradition to tradition, from the panentheism of St Francis of Assisi, which finds God emphatically throughout all of nature; to Rumi; to the assertion by Abraham Abulafia that he can teach anyone—male or female; Jew, Muslim, or Christian—his intense style of “prophetic” Kabbalah.17

Conclusion The work of each of these briefly discussed visual artists resonates from similar sensibilities, yet each offers a distinctive approach—oblique or direct—to the concerns of mysticism; each offers a unique angle of access to the subject, broad or focused; each connects to the realm of the Divine in different ways and ties these connections back to aspects of the human realm. Their images offer themselves as potential instruments for helping to improve a world that remains profoundly fractured and in need of repair.

Bibliography Fujimura, Makoto, Art and Faith: A Theology of Making. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2021. Khan, Hazrat Inayat, The Heart of Sufism. Boston: Shambala Publications, 1999. Kohav, Alex S., ed., Mysticism and Meaning: Multidisciplinary Perspectives. St Petersburg, FL: Three Pines Press, 2013. Soltes, Ori Z. Our Sacred Signs: How Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Art Draw from the Same Source. New York: Westview Press, 2005. Soltes, Ori Z. Mysticism in the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Traditions: Searching for Oneness. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2008. Soltes, Ori Z. Tradition and Transformation: Three Millennia of Jewish Art & Architecture. Boulder, CO: Canal Street Studios, 2016. Soltes, Ori Z. Magic and Religion in the Greco-Roman World: The Beginnings of Judaism and Christianity. Boulder, CO: Academia-West Press, 2017. Walstedt, Eric, Hours: Makoto Fujimura. New York: Dillon Gallery, 1997.

17  For a more detailed discussion of these mystics, see Soltes: Mysticism in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

CHAPTER 3

The Zen Arts: A Mystical Entry Point to a World of Oneness Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz

Slowly grinding a scented sumi inkstick on an inkstone, pouring water from a delicate water dripper, making deliberate round movements, the artist continues until the ink is smooth and glistening, a saturated black. Breathing in, breathing out. The artist picks up a brush, carefully dips the pointed tip into the ink, concentrates the mind, touches the rice paper where the ink immediately leaves a mark, and with a swift gesture executes a circle. The universe has been expressed, in that very moment: interconnected, complete. The Zen arts provide an amazing way of cultivating an artistic path of selflessness as well as expressing what cannot be said in words. Their uniqueness comes from the fact that they originated within monastic settings where mindfulness is the center. In the contemporary Western art world, the cultivation of an individual, unique self seems to be crucial. In the traditional Zen arts, one trains by copying the masters and following established means of depiction or expression. The urge to bring oneself

T. M. v. Prittwitz (*) Bard College, Hudson, NY, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_3

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forward is discouraged, as it would hinder a liberated view on how things really are. To get oneself out of the way: What does this mean? Which truth is being revealed? The various training paths support the practitioner’s discovery of a no-self: a realization of the self being empty; oneself as a mere construct (Sanskrit: anatta). What can be seen when the self is forgotten? Who expresses what? Given the absence of an artist persona per se, the Zen arts are called the “artless arts.” And yet, they are characterized by profound dedication and high quality. Letting go of the self opens countless gates of creativity. The Zen arts embrace a range of forms and methods: traditional sumie ink painting, calligraphy, haiku poetry, ikebana flower arrangement, kyudo (formal archery practice), and chanoyu (tea ceremony), in association with important crafts such as pottery, architecture, and garden design. Expanding our list, we could mention Noh (Japanese dance drama) or bonsai, the art of finding the essence of a tree in miniature. Whatever means of expression we choose, the Zen arts always circle around the inevitable correspondence of inner and outer states, aiming for a complete immersion. The drawn plum blossom, a piercing haiku poem, or the way a cup is lifted—in forms such as these, an experience of oneness can be transmitted. In Zen Culture, Thomas Hoover writes: “Zen culture has been devised over the centuries to bring us in touch with a portion of ourselves we in the West scarcely know—our nonrational, nonverbal side. […] If we in the West wish to borrow from the complex world of Zen culture, we must first begin to train and intensify our powers of perception.”1 Before we study the Zen arts as a mystical entry point into a world of oneness, we must first understand the nature of this oneness, through satori, enlightenment. Satori is an actual experience of heightened awareness, realizing the interconnection of all things. The insight often comes after long periods of intense meditation practice and is frequently triggered by an unexpected event such as the sound of a pebble hitting a hollow bamboo pole.2 There are famous sudden enlightenment experiences known throughout the Zen tradition. The legendary sixth patriarch Hui Neng (638–713), notably, was an illiterate woodcutter who suddenly came to full awakening upon hearing someone chanting the Diamond 1  Thomas Hoover, “The Lessons of Zen Culture,” in: Zen Culture, New  York 1978, 223–229, here: 224, 227. 2  See koan on Kyogen described in: Jiho Sargent, Asking About Zen, Trumbull 2001: 30.

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Sutra. Or satori may occur through a series of gradual insights, for example those described in detail by the famed Zen master Hakuin (1686–1769). To use a more modern example, here is the account of the satori experience by the renowned Chinese Zen master Hsu Yun (1840?–1959). The Master worked persistently during the session, and with the lucidity born of single-mindedness, he saw through both the body and mind. […] His numerous thoughts had suddenly ceased, and the Master’s spiritual skill began to develop. When walking, he felt as if he were flying; night and day had merged into one. After meditating one evening, the Master opened his eyes, and suddenly, everything both inside and outside the monastery walls was penetrated with the brilliance of daylight. […] During the twelfth lunar month, on the third evening of the eighth week of the session, after six hours of sitting in meditation, the attendant made his rounds, filling up the tea cups. The Master’s hand was burned by spilling boiling water, and his cup fell to the floor. At the sound of the crash, the root of his doubt was instantly severed. He was joyous beyond words at having fulfilled his lifelong ambition. It was as if he had just awakened from a dream […]. The hand let go - the cup was shattered. Family is broken up, people have died - there’s no way to talk about such things. Spring arrives, flowers are fragrant, everywhere is infused with splendor. The mountains, rivers, and great earth itself are just the Tathagatas.3

All the classical preconditions of a satori experience are here: perseverance, single-pointed concentration, a spacious state of sharp samadi (meditative immersion), clear perception, a suddenness, followed by a complete shattering of the self and a fusion with the universe, along with an obliteration of all doubts. What remains is an inexpressible awe not based on conventional perception. This profound experience is beyond words. And that is where the Zen arts arise: as a training path as well as a means to express the inexpressible. An enso circle—a perfectly circular sweep of the ink-filled brush on white paper—is a central means of creating a gesture to convey what 3  A Pictorial Biography of the Venerable Master Hsu Yun, composed by the Venerable Master Hsuan Hua, Burlingame 2003: 203, 205, 209.

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cannot be described (Fig. 3.1). Zen roshi (great teacher) John Daido Loori said: “It symbolizes enlightenment, power, and the universe itself. It is a direct expression of thusness or this-moment-as-it-is.”4 The Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh practiced enso daily as a meditation, because the black ink trace will give immediate feedback on one’s state of mind. He drew each circle in one cycle of breath: one enso, one movement, one moment, one universe.5 Scholar Stephen Addiss writes: “It would seem that nothing could be more simple than this circle [enso], usually depicted in a single brushstroke. Did the monk take merely a few seconds to create

Fig. 3.1  Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Enso, ink on paper

 Audrey Yoshiko Seo, Zen Circles of Enlightenment, Boston 2007: xi–xii.  Thich Nhat Hanh also writes in the middle of his enso: Breathe, you are alive.

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this quintessential Zen statement? Might we also count the time he spent staring at the empty paper and preparing his mind and spirit? Or should we say that it took the monk eighty years, the span of his life, to produce it? If we consider the entire history of Zen, passed on directly from master to pupil for generations, we may even decide that the enso took many hundreds of years to create.”6 Very simple, and very profound, a round circle of black ink on white rice paper can suggest, to Zen connoisseurs, how enlightened the artist is, just by the shape of the enso. Similarly meditative is the art of calligraphy (Fig. 3.2). Chinese characters (called kanji when used in Japan) derive from and depict words that originated as images. There are ample ways to represent these signs in visually appealing forms or scripts. But calligraphy is also a way of training and focusing the mind. The emptying of the self in the activity of calligraphy comes to the forefront in shakyo, sutra copying. It has been a longstanding practice in Japanese temples to copy the Heart Sutra, the most central sutra in Buddhism. The core phrases summarize the essence of the Buddha’s teachings of liberation: “Form is no other than emptiness, emptiness no other than form. Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form.”7 How would one enter this Buddhist truth that cannot be grasped with the linear, intellectual mind? By bending over the sutra and copying it, sign after sign, again and again, until the sutra becomes oneself and oneself becomes the sutra. Zen roshi Taizan Maezumi urged: “The sutra must be alive as the functioning of your life! […] Trusting your life as the sutra is the best way to be nice to yourself. […] Unify yourself with what you do! This is actually the key, this unity of your true life and the life of literally everything.”8 One of the most acclaimed contemporary calligraphy artists in Japan is Kanazawa Shoko, an artist with Down syndrome. Her mother (who is also her assistant) comments that her daughter’s high degree of spontaneity and pure-hearted innocence moved people far more than her own more elaborated style. The mother felt that she herself couldn’t lose her own sense of self-awareness when she practiced calligraphy.9  Stephen Addiss, The Art of Zen, New York 1989: 12.  Maha Prajna Paramita Heart Sutra, in: Zen Mountain Monastery Liturgy Manual, Mt Tremper 1998: 27–28, here: 27. 8  Taizan Maezumi, “Copying Sutras,” in: Appreciate Your Life: The Essence of Zen Practice, Boston 2001: 83. 9  See A Life of Prayer. Kanazawa Shoko. Master Calligrapher with Down Syndrome, November 2017. Film uploaded from www.nippon.com (accessed March 2023). 6 7

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Fig. 3.2  Seido Suzuki Roshi (abbot of Funakizan Toshoji, Okayama): 威儀即仏 法 igi soku buppou Dignity is Buddha Nature

In order to illustrate this special quality of the Zen arts—when the artist shares an art not coming from the self but rather from no-self—I wish to mention another satori experience, this time by today’s Tibetan Buddhist master Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, who silently left his monastery to undertake a four-year pilgrimage as an anonymous, wandering yogi. When I got sick, it felt like I went through some kind of a wall. It was like a wall of subtle stone, of solid attachment to my body, my comfort, my robes, and even the idea of Mingyur Rinpoche. So many things. I slowly let go, let go, let go, let go. In the end, I even let go of myself. I thought, ‘If I’m going to die, okay. If I’m going to die, no problem.’ At that moment, I didn’t have

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any fear. Then I had some kind of dissolution experience, as they call it in the texts. I saw different colors, and then slowly I could not hear or see. The elements of the body were dissolving, and then I lost touch with my physical body altogether. I watched this process happening. Then I had a wonderful experience. There was no thought, no emotion, no concept. My mind was clear and wakeful, like a blue sky with the sun shining, transparent and all-­ pervasive. There was no inside and outside, no subject and object, no sense of body and no ordinary senses. At the same time, mind was pervasive, knowing, and very clear. I knew what was going on, but it was not like normal experience. It’s very, very difficult to describe. It cannot really be put into words.10

It is this existential letting go of the self that is cultivated in the Zen arts. The artist becomes one with the brush; the brush paints itself. Dogen, founder of the Soto Zen school in the thirteenth century, summarized: “To study the Buddha way is to study the self, to study the self is to forget the self, and to forget the self is to be enlightened by the ten thousand things.”11 If the self is forgotten, the universe can express itself; the artist becomes a vehicle, a vessel. It is important to realize that these experiences of oneness are available to everybody. In fact, there are examples of those who had spontaneous mind-opening visions.12 But the Buddhist training path outlines practices that help someone explicitly shed the armor of the self. Repetition is one tool: A disciple of sumie drawing is obliged to paint the so-called Four Noble Ones—orchid, bamboo, plum blossoms, and chrysanthemum— over and over and over again. Copying the masters for years, a disciple finds that it takes a long time to tame the mind, which desires ceaselessly to express its well-cultivated and conditioned individuality. The Japanese education system trains children in group harmony and conformity from early on. How much more difficult it is for Westerners with their specially fostered and cultivated self. One of the Zen aesthetic principles, as formulated by the Japanese philosopher Shin’ichi Hisamatsu, is simplicity. “In the West, there is a tendency to have our gardens overflowing with beauty. 10  “Free as a Bird in the Sky: Mingyur Rinpoche’s exclusive account of his four years as a wandering yogi,” in: Lion’s Roar, March 2016, 54–59, here: 57. 11  John Daido Loori: The Eight Gates of Zen, Mt Tremper 1992: 27. 12  See the account of Flora Eko Courtois in Taizan Maezumi, The Hazy Moon of Enlightenment, Boston 2007. Here p. 125: “I knew now that eternity is here always, that there is no higher, no deeper, no separated past or future time or place. How could love be other than this all-encompassing Oneness to which we can do nothing but open ourselves?”

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Simplicity means that the creative space and process are sparse, unobtrusive, not cluttered. In a sense, aggressiveness is toned down. Diversity is avoided. In the simplicity there’s a touch of boundlessness—nothing limited, nothing limiting—a cloudless sky.”13 This empty space often marks a surprising dimension in a sumie painting (Fig.  3.3). Splashes of ink as mountains, a few strokes and there is a hint of a boat. The viewer can fill the void with infinite images. Haiku also envisions the recipient as an active participant in the formulation and completion of an artwork. A format of 17 syllables in a 5-7-5 pattern gives a lot of space to imagination. Basho, for instance, offers just: “stillness – / sinking deep into the rocks / cries of the cicada.”14 In this poem we can feel the swelling sound of the cicada penetrating the summer’s heat. The few words are like dots between which we discover the outlines of the scenario. Stephen Addiss writes: “Haiku can find an inner truth from an outward phenomenon, and ultimately uses words to go beyond words.”15 Author and reader can meet in this free space: on one side, the experience of a holistic moment; on the other side, an open mind to receive this teaching; joining ultimately in the stream of complete interconnection. As the Zen liturgy describes: “Two arrows meeting in mid air.”16 According to Zen principles, it is therefore of utmost importance for the artist to be as spiritually developed as possible. Offering this energy to the recipient, the artist bears a responsibility both for the viewers’ experience and their spiritual development. The reader, in return, is not a passive recipient but rather actively helps to complete the artist’s work. It becomes a dialogue across space and time. Tea ceremony, chanoyu, is probably the most complex merging of the Zen arts (Fig. 3.4). Traditionally, a small teahouse is set amid a carefully laid out garden. Being invited to a tea ceremony is like a journey into an altered world. Opening the gate to the garden, walking on steppingstones through glistening moss or stones, the guests, after ritually washing their hands in an outside basin, pause in a shaded waiting area, sipping warm  John Daido Loori, “The Zen Arts,” in: Mountain Record, summer 1996, 11–18: 12.  Haruo Shirane, Traces of Dreams, Stanford 1998: 228. 15  Stephen Addiss, The Art of Haiku, Boston 2012: 3. For a more detailed haiku analysis, see Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: A Vast Net of Interconnected Diamonds: Buddhist View of Nature, in: Nature and the Environment in Contemporary Religious Contexts, Muhammad Shafiq and Thomas Donlin-Smith, eds., Cambridge 2018: 67–83. 16  Identity of Relative and Absolute, in: Zen Mountain Monastery Liturgy Manual: 29–31, here: 30. 13 14

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Fig. 3.3  Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Mountain of Truth, ink on wood

water, purifying inside and out. Upon hearing a bell, marking that the tea master is ready, they slide open a small door and crawl into a dim space, leaving shoes outside. Their first gaze finds the tokonoma, an alcove space, containing only a hanging scroll and a few, loosely arranged flowers. The tea ceremony is a heightened reflection of this very moment in space and time. Tea implements have been carefully selected according to the season and the guests. The water simmers in a kettle over a fire, incense perfumes the air, and everything is meticulously clean. The guests find their seats. The tea master starts the intricate choreography of making a cup of tea in a highly refined and ritualistic way. Utensils carry the mark of sophisticated craftspeople: a whisk hand made out of split bamboo; tea bowls in an endless variety of designs and glazes; the carved tea scoop; the elegant

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Fig. 3.4  Tea room (chashitsu) by Michiko Souho 宗穂 Baribeau (tea ceremony and ikebana master, Stanfordville, NY). On the scroll (kakemono) in the tokonoma it reads: 開門落葉多 Opening the gate, found the ground covered with fallen leaves

container for the powdered green tea; the mounted scroll with a picture and an inscription. Everything has a story and yet is itself, speaking volumes about beauty, care, and attention.17 All movements are deliberate and careful. The atmosphere is solemn, celebrating this instant in its preciousness. The main tea verse says: ichigo ichi’e. Every moment only happens once. This encounter will never ever occur again like this. The four  See Craftland Japan, Uwe Röttgen and Katharina Zettl, eds., London 2020.

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tea principles are harmony (wa), respect (kei), purity (sei), and tranquility (jaku). By the time the guest lifts the bowl, after having eaten a delicate sweet, the vividly green tea has become much more than a cup of tea. It is a celebration of life! Walking the Way of Tea as well as cultivating other Zen arts is a life-­ long practice. Through constant repetition and training, the tea master polishes the mind, offering utmost attention to the guests. Host and guest become one: no difference; complete interconnection. Sen-no-Rikyu, the founder of tea ceremony, wrote in a poem: When you take a sip From the bowl of powder Tea There within it lies Clear reflected in its depths Blue of sky and grey of sea.18

Having a cup of tea becomes a prism of the world: cha-do, the way of tea; sho-do, the way of writing; ka-do, the way of the flower; kyu-do, the way of the bow; ken-do, the way of the sword. The Zen arts are a journey, a path for self-refinement, that uses various means as a vehicle for teaching and transformation. As Marcia Wang Shibata writes, the same is true for ikebana, which “is often defined as a contemplative art, mindfulness practice or floral art. […]. Ikebana is more fully a Way or path to seeing the truth and surrendering to it. The student can learn to open more fully to the natural world and honor its laws of balance. […] The student learns to allow the branches and flowers to be what they are without trying to impose human patterns on them and then lets go. All is impermanent. […] Who is the arranger? What is being arranged, anyway? What is arranging? Is there such a thing as non-arranging arranging?”19 Ikebana teachers emphasize that one has to listen to the flower to learn how the flower wants to be presented (Fig. 3.5). Similarly, Eugen Herrigel, in Zen in the Art of Archery, observes his master’s teaching of purposelessness when the arrow shoots itself like “snow [falling] from a bamboo leaf.”20 The belief that one can only truly master a skill by combining perseverance with 18  Verses of Sen-No-Rikyu, in: The Japanese Tea Ceremony, by A.L. Sadler, Rutland 2008, 119–122, here: 122. 19  Marcia Shibata: “Living Flowers: Ikebana,” in: Mountain Record, vol. XIV, no. 4, summer 1996: 19–20. 20  Eugen Herrigel: Zen in the Art of Archery, New York 1953: 54.

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Fig. 3.5  Flower (ikebana) arrangement by Shundo Aoyama Roshi (abbess of Aichi Senmon Nisodo), March 2020

mindfulness is splendidly illustrated by Takeo Ishikawa, a leading Japanese archer, who can shoot in the dark and the arrow will, as he phrases it, “naturally find the target.”21 How can the self give up the self? How to attain a place of purposelessness with purpose? A state of freedom through strict practice? Stephen Addiss suggests:

 Kyudo. Hidden Techniques, June 2018, J-Arena (accessed March 2023).

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Full of paradox, Zen is beyond words, but has occasioned countless books; Zen is individual, but usually requires a teacher; Zen is everyday and ­down-­to-­earth, yet is traditionally practiced in remote monasteries; Zen is profoundly serious, but full of humor; Zen demands being rather than representing, yet has inspired many different kinds of art. Zen teaches us not merely to hear, but to listen; not just to look, but to see; not only to think, but to experience; and above all not to cling to what we know, but to accept and rejoice in as much of the world as we may encounter.22

It’s important to note that, through the efforts of artistic mastership, a sense of lightness is achieved, since the self will not be defined (or confined) by personal preferences and wants. The Zen arts become the so-­ called finger pointing at the moon, with the moon representing enlightenment. John Daido Loori says: “Zen art, as sacred art, is a direct expression of the ineffable. It helps to transform the way we understand ourselves and the universe. It makes visible the invisible.”23 If we consider the Zen arts as a poignant way to realize one’s Buddha nature, and rigorous meditation practice as a possible way to attain enlightenment, how can these techniques be transposed to other areas of activity? Not everybody might be up for a 12-year solitary retreat in a Himalayan cave, like Englishwoman-become-Tibetan monk Tenzim Palmo.24 Or going nine days without food, water, or sleep, like the running monks from Mt Hiei, Japan. The famed sixth-century Chinese Faith Mind poem suggests a guideline for how to practice selflessness that is liberation: The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. […] If you wish to see the truth, then hold no opinions for or against anything. To set what you like against what you dislike is the disease of the mind. […] When the mind exists undisturbed in the Way, nothing in the world can offend,  Stephen Addiss, The Art of Zen: 6.  John Daido Loori, “Forword,” in: Zen Circles of Enlightenment, xi–xvi, here: xv. 24  See Vicki MacKenzie, Cave in the Snow. A Western Woman’s Quest for Enlightenment, Bloomsbury 1998. 22 23

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and when a thing can no longer offend, it ceases to exist in the old way. […] If the mind makes no discriminations, the ten thousand things are as they are, of single essence. To understand the mystery of this One-essence is to be released from all entanglements. […] To come directly into harmony with this reality just simply say when doubt arises, ‘not two.’ In this ‘not two’ nothing is separate, nothing is excluded. No matter when or where, enlightenment means entering this truth. […] the infinite universe stands always before your eyes. […] Don’t waste time in doubts and arguments that have nothing to do with this. […] To live in this faith is the road to non-duality because the non-dual is one with the trusting mind.25

A sense of separation comes from a solidified notion of the self. Mindfulness training helps to overcome barriers, for oneself and others. Any ideas of self and other are a construct. So just say “not two.” By embracing oneself, one can embrace others (Fig. 3.6). Let’s look at the attitudes cultivated in the Zen arts: attention, calmness, respect, harmony, non-clinging, simplicity, perseverance, openness, and dedication. From descriptions of satori we learned of the necessity of concentration, mindfulness, complete acceptance, an empty mind, and letting go of the self. We have established that the described practices lead to love and joy. The basic truth is that everybody wants happiness. As the Dalai Lama emphasizes: “I believe the purpose of life is to be happy.”26 How can we use these Zen art principles in our daily life?

 Faith Mind Poem, in: Zen Mountain Monastery Liturgy Manual: 65–70.  Dalai Lama and Franz Alt, Our Only Home: A Climate Appeal to the World, Toronto 2020: 50. 25 26

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Fig. 3.6  Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Embracing Oneself, ink on paper

All Zen arts are tied to mindfulness in conjunction with meditation as a powerful tool for calming the mind. There are different degrees of meditation: from three breaths and a few minutes, to hours and days and years. As with any other skill, the higher the level one wants to achieve, the more one must practice. Tea ceremony manifests that our senses are powerful teachers: eye, ear, nose, tongue, and body. Merely seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching need no commenting or thinking. One can just taste, smell, see, and so on. It takes time to cultivate pure perception, yet it’s possible to enjoy, while having no thoughts. The recognition that one can function without the mind is frightening at first, and then liberating. The more we become comfortable with the breath in any given situation, the more we can just be, the more opportunities of convergence arise.

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What is most helpful with an attitude of radical acceptance is not only that any given situation will present an opportunity for self-investigation and change, but that any rising problems can be faced with a mind of equanimity. To recognize that one has a choice of how to deal with a situation is immensely empowering. Pertaining to the Black Lives Matter movement, educator Ruth King writes: “Perception determines the characteristics of what it perceives—for example, whether a race is threatening or whether a race is worth paying attention to.”27 Nobody else can determine our feelings, it is only our conditioned selves who create them—and can thus consciously change perspective. The Zen arts teach us the importance of continuous practice. How many times does a painter have to draw bamboo in order for the bamboo to look alive? Two steps forward, one back. Zen practitioner Dennis Genpo Merzel writes: “Practice is all about learning how to recognize and manifest our true nature in everything we do. To become confident, free, and joyful in manifesting our true nature takes a lot of attention and practice.”28 As Dogen underlines, the gate is always open, but one has to enter. “This Dharma is amply present in every person, but unless one practices it is not manifested; unless there is realization, it is not attained.”29 The reward of this journey of refinement is boundless joyfulness. Zen master Soko Morinaga describes his enlightenment: One night I sat, in the middle of the night, a lump of fatigue sitting on a zazen cushion, both body and consciousness were in a haze, and I could not have roused the desire for satori if I had wanted to when, suddenly, the fog cleared and a world of lucidity opened itself. Clearly seeing, clearly hearing, it was yet a world in which there was no ‘me’! I cannot fully explain that time. To venture an explanation would be to err somewhere. The one thing I am sure of is that in this instant, the functioning of the heart with which I was born came into play in its purest form. I could not keep still in my uncontainable joy.30

27  Ruth King, Mindful of Race: Transforming Racism from the Inside Out, Boulder 2018: 108. 28  Dennis Genpo Merzel, “Your Life is the Buddha Bowl,” in: Mountain Record, 30–33, here: 33. 29  The Hazy Moon of Enlightenment: 14. 30  Soko Morinaga, Novice to Master: An Ongoing Lesson in the Extent of My Own Stupidity, Somerville 2004: 106–107.

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Feeling free like a child, roshi Soko Morinaga comments further on his satori experience: “Enlightenment is liberation from the dross of learning and experience that, without one’s being aware of it, has accumulated and settled like so much sediment […]! It is the vivid, lively manifestation of the heart with which one is born—the heart that is no-form, no-mind, nonabiding, attached neither to form nor to thought, but in dynamic motion.”31 The Zen arts and satori accounts provide us with a blueprint for how to encounter each other without agenda, thus pointing to a more broadly applicable creative path for peaceful coexistence (Fig. 3.7). Baika is a form of Buddhist hymn chanting that has been developed in the Soto Zen school. Similar to the music of shakuhachi—which is a bamboo Zen flute that traditionally was played by monks who carried a basket over their head so that the self disappeared—baika is the heart-to-heart

Fig. 3.7  Tatjana Myoko v. Prittwitz: Be One, ink on paper

 Ibid.: 107–108.

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connection that stands in the foreground. Hundreds of baika groups meet in Japan. Trained at Zen temples, they start their sessions with the vow to live in harmony with others and create a positive world. In the song “Living with True Heart” (Magokoro ni Ikiru) the following lines are chanted: “The vast expanse of the ocean is boundless, it nurtures all forms of life. / Generous-hearted like an ocean, let’s respect and believe in each other. // With a single smile, with a single tear, embracing both encounters and partings, let’s cherish this moment while we live.”32 It is in this recognition of the preciousness of life that the imperative to live peacefully, together, arises. The Buddha reminds us: So you should view this fleeting world— A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream, A flash of lightening in a summer cloud, A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.33

References Blair, Gavin: Zen in Japanese Culture, New York 2019. Hisamatsu, Shin’ichi: Zen and the Fine Arts, New York 1974. Lama, Dalai and Franz Alt Franz, Our Only Home. A Climate Appeal to the World, Toronto 2020. Loori, John Daido: The Zen of Creativity. Cultivating Your Artistic Life, Mt. Tremper 2004. Röttgen, Uwe and Zettl, Katharina: Craftland Japan, London 2020. Yetunde, Pamela and Giles, Cheryl A. (ed.): Black & Buddhist. What Buddhism can teach us about race, resilience, transformation & freedom, Boulder 2020.

 Soto Zen Buddhism Baikaryu Eisanka: Encounter with the Buddha: 55.  End of the Diamond Sutra.

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CHAPTER 4

Jewish Mysticism: Teachings About Unity and Discord Saundra Sterling Epstein

In the beginning … there was unity in totality within the chaos and nothingness from which all came. God the Creator is Ultimate Unity and Wholeness; all comes from that Divine source. We crave feeling that quality. However, due to our nature as finite and limited beings, there are conflicts and differentiations that are divisive and preclude our achieving this ideal within ourselves and in building community, as well as attaching ourselves to The Divine Source. How does one negotiate the different components of our lives while trying to achieve that wholeness which may feel more accessible in our mystical traditions? In Judaism, this is accomplished by observance of religious ritual, through creation of and contribution to community, by seeing our individual selves as part of something so much bigger, and attempting to ascertain and bring elements of The Divine Being to the midst of all. In texts, mystical traditions, and the work of scholars who have brought these different elements into a unified gestalt, we are encouraged to aspire

S. S. Epstein (*) Elkins Park, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_4

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toward the underlying unity that may be lost as we become mired in the multifaceted aspects of who we are and how we live. Fundamental to the teachings of Jewish Mysticism is that it is informed and birthed by the foundational teachings found in the Torah. The Zohar and other sources provide an entire layer of interpretive mechanisms of Torah text forming the essence of Jewish Mysticism, helping us to find this unity within the details. In this chapter, the following will be discussed: • Moving from the One Unified Creator to the different components therein contained • Intended purposes for this variation and the inherent discord that accompanies it • Importance in Jewish practice of attaining a significant sense of the Unified Whole by attending to the details of our lives • Return to pervasive Unity of God with guidance from Jewish Mysticism on how Jewish practices and rituals achieve that goal Isolated, this seeking of unity can bring one to a vague amorphous sense of the whole while losing one self. This is a criticism of many mystical traditions and the seeming ease with which many of us will adapt them in our contemporary reality, ignoring the details of what makes them meaningful and potentially potent as well as healing. Here, this unity is found within the details, used as building blocks to achieve something that in its totality and dimensionality is greater than the sum of its parts, in connecting the individual, the community, and The One Who Created All.

Moving from the One Unified Creator to the Different Components Therein Contained Cave stories are well known, as are mystical traditions birthed in such secluded space, far removed from the multitudinous realities, pains, and distracting challenges of the world and its many conflicting

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dynamics.1 The Zohar (meaning ‘brilliance’), considered seminal in providing important mystical and unifying insights to the Torah specifically and Jewish texts generally, is such a source of mysticism for Jewish adherents. This work of illumination is originally attributed to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (Rashbi), a loyal student of Rabbi Akiva, who was sentenced to death by the Roman Emperor Hadrian in the second century, as had been his teacher. He and his son escaped his death sentence by hiding in a cave for twelve years. In this seclusion and isolation from the world, where all needs for survival were met by his wife who periodically brought what he needed, a carob tree, and a spring in the cave, the Zohar was born.2 After twelve years, Shimon and his son, Rabbi Elazar, emerged to confront the world in which life had continued in their absence. Observing people conducting business, farming and tilling the land, and addressing daily physical needs, they were horrified and proclaimed how worthless these activities were as the people were not studying the holy Torah, the only meaningful pursuit given their perspective, sheltered from the world for so long. God saw that while they had been immersed in holy studies and mystical understandings, they had no idea about the world of reality and its demands, and thus, how to apply these insights. Back into the cave 1  Mystical space in  locales such as mountains, isolated deserts, and caves is explored by many scholars of mysticism. For one example of this discussion, the reader is referred to Carmel Bendon Davis’ work in Mysticism & Space: Space and Spatiality in the Works of Richard Rolle, “The Cloud of Unknowing” Author, and Julian of Norwich (Washington DC: Catholic University Press, 2008). Caves can shelter and caves can imprison. In Plato’s Analogy of the Cave, the alternate reality becomes the only one known by those in the cave, and the outside light is too bright for them to consider or want. In Shimon Bar Yochai’s cave, he runs from the light to be able to see the brilliance of the darkness of the cave and the Torah he learns, ignoring the fact that this isolation is not reality. He is in an analogous position to that of Plato’s prisoners. For a study of The Analogy of the Cave, one of many sources is Dale Hall, “Interpreting Plato’s Cave as an Allegory of the Human Condition” in Apeiron: A Journal for Ancient Philosophy and Science, 14, no. 2 (1980): 74–86: http://www.jstor. org/stable/40913453. 2  Shabbat 33b–34a. Talmudic (both Mishneh and Gemara) resources are referenced in the body of the chapter generally. Translations of all texts from the original Hebrew and Aramaic included here are my own and any mistakes are mine as well. I strive to maintain both the content and the context of the words, while sharing them in a linguistic form that will make sense to the reader and remove any misunderstandings due to the limits of language generally confronted. All references here are from the Babylonian Talmud, as indicated by the letters BT or an original Hebrew text of the Mishneh. I follow the format of the Daf Vilna in noting pagination, and the text used is the Schottenstein Edition of the Babylonian Talmud (New York: Mesorah Publications, Ltd., 1983)

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they were sent by a Heavenly Voice (Bat Kol) to reconcile what they had discerned in isolation with what they observed in the complicated and practical world of living. This time their task was to look at the higher truths and the unity of God, with the goal of integrating this into the world and its complexities; only then were they to emerge, able to exist in that world and contribute something worthwhile to it.3 Mysticism as a system in Judaism is not intended for detachment from the world but rather to perceive the world in a heightened state, wherein we can integrate the teachings of how to be the best unified selves we can be, prepared for peaceful and cooperative co-existence with each other. We do not live in a cave! Jewish Mysticism helps guide the practitioner toward a sense of absolute unity and synchronistic understanding of the ideal life, rooted in the practices and laws communicated by God and conveyed in the Torah and Talmud. The Creator God, in Jewish texts, is One and The Only Complete One, with all aspects contained within this unified entity. This creates a frustrating dynamic wherein the oft-stated goal of connecting oneself to God through actions and intentions is difficult to achieve since this unity of a multitude of facets is not found within the human being’s capacity. Resolution of this discord and recapturing underlying unity is the work of Jewish Mysticism, as exemplified by Rashbi’s predicament.

3  The origins of the Zohar is a topic of discourse and disagreement. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (Rashbi) is taken by many to be its author. It is also suggested that the Zohar was potentially written and processed by a series of scholars and students of Jewish Mysticism in addition to Rashbi. Many accept that Rabbi Moshe De Léon, a thirteenth-century Kabbalist was at least the redactor of this process, and some believe him to have authored the entire work, using inspiration from those before him. The Zohar was reportedly kept hidden for about eight centuries until the 1100s of the Common Era. Those who guarded its wisdom and integrity felt that during that time, people did not possess the necessary foundational knowledge to understand its contents. In the sixteenth century, the ARI, Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534–1572), took on the task of studying and teaching the essentials of Kabbalah. The ARI felt that going forward, this should be available for study by all who had met the prerequisites of study of seminal Jewish texts such as the Torah, its commentaries, Talmud, and other codes, so as to understand its contextuality and intended purpose. There are different traditions in this interpretation and use of the Zohar and within Kabbalah. For example, Cordoveran Kabbalah teaches that the forces of creation are considered as autonomous forces that evolve linearly from one another, while for Lurianic Kabbalah, the sefirot are perceived as a constellation of forces in active dialogue with one another at every stage of that evolution.

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Basic to Jewish belief, practice, and life is the first commandment of the Decalogue:4 I am the LORD thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt have no other gods before Me. (Exodus 20:2)

Whereas other traditions have taught about many gods and god-forces, historically pre-dating monotheism as we understand it, this notion presents a sense of unity with which all began. The Creator God who created all that is, according to Judaism, is The Only Complete One. It is for this reason that the Torah as well as the entirety of the Bible of the Judeo-­ Christian tradition begins with a narrative that briefly indicates aspects of the process of Creation, beginning with One Unified Entity. This presents many challenges, the least of which is theodicy. How can One Divine Being be the source of all; does that not mean that both what is good and not-good come from that source? In the Tanya, a foundational text for Hasidism and Jewish Mysticism, we read5: All affairs of this world are severe and evil, and wicked men prevail. (Tanya, I:6)

How can we place faith and belief in such a Being who would create such individuals knowingly?6 In order to do so, we must accept that God’s 4  All translations of texts in the original Hebrew included here are my own and any mistakes are my own as well. In translating all sources, I strive to maintain both the content and the context of the words, while sharing them in a linguistic form that will make sense to the reader and remove any misunderstandings due to the limits of language as generally confronted. The main frame used for text resources from the Jewish Bible (Tanach) comes from a variety of sources, including http://mechon-mamre.org and Scherman, Rabbi Nosson, ed., The Stone Edition: The Tanach (New York: Mesorah Publications, 2000). 5  Steinsaltz, Rabbi Adin, Opening the Tanya: Discovering the Moral and Mystical Teachings of a Classic Work of Kabbalah (Hoboken, NJ: Jossey Bass Publishers, 2003), 156–170. Also, Learning from the Tanya, especially chapter 15. Steinsaltz was a Jewish text scholar and having received many honorary degrees, earned a doctorate in Zoology. 6  Theodicy is a specifically challenging concept given that Judaism and Jewish Mysticism hold that all emanates from one and only one God. Thus many of the thinkers, if not all, cited in this study, as well as many others, cite this as the singular most difficult concept to absorb for adherents of Judaism’s ethical monotheism. Through the unity that is sought and described, only briefly due to limitations of space in this study, one comes to understand that evil or not-good is not an entity unto itself but a necessary part of the whole, similar to an ingredient that may go into a recipe that none would eat in isolation. One study is by Rabbi Yaakov Brawer, Eyes That See (Israel: Seminary Bais Menachem, 1999). Rabbi Brawer, like many authors cited here, is both a rabbi and professor of science.

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unity is beyond time, chronology, different capacities, physical boundaries, definitions of good and bad, and all forms of categorization that are needed for us to exist in our human reality. Rabbi Moshe Haim Luzzato (Ramchal), an eighteenth-century scholar, taught in his work, The Way of God, that this disconnect reflects the contrast between the absolute unity of God and the human mind with its many different faculties and ranges of activity. Ramchal understood this because his scholarship and learning were part of his active existence in the world and he was pragmatic regarding both the aspirations and limitations of what it means to be human. He never retreated into the cave. He understood the profound differences between the human being and The Creator. Learning was to be integrated with actual experience in finding higher meanings and unity, while accepting the inherent limits in doing so. He explains: Chapter 1 [1] Every Jew must know and believe that there exists a first Being, without beginning or end, who brought all things into existence and continues to sustain them. This Being is God. [2] It is necessary to know that God’s true nature cannot be understood at all by any being other than God’s self. The only thing that we know about God is that God is perfect in every possible way and devoid of every conceivable deficiency. [3] It is also necessary to know that God’s existence is imperative. It is absolutely impossible that God should cease to exist. [4] It is necessary to know that God’s existence does not depend on anything else at all. God’s existence is intrinsically imperative. [5] It is likewise necessary to know that God’s essence is absolutely simple, without any structure… Every possible perfection exists in God, but in an absolutely simple manner. The human mind has many different faculties, each with its own area of activity…. When we speak of God, however, these are not different faculties…7

Ramchal teaches that God created order out of chaos and had to keep that order in check every time chaos once again erupted, as it often has and continues to do. He reinforces the challenge of mere mortals in coming to an understanding of God given that we cannot see all domains of our existence as one unified whole, replicating God’s perspective. 7  Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzato, Ramchal, was a prominent Italian Jewish Rabbi, kabbalist, mathematician, and philosopher. He was born in 1707 in Padua, Italy, and died in 1746 in Acre, Israel. This quote comes from the first of his three-book series in which he brings all of his fields of expertise together in a unified manner, showing us how we have to look beyond what may seem to be conflicting ideas to their ultimate unity. Rabbi Moshe Chayim Luzzato, The Way of God, trans. Arye Kaplan (New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1988), 30–33.

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This theme is found in Hasidic mystical teachings. In the Tanya, which brings together Jewish spirituality, psychology, and theology in Hasidic thinking and Kabbalah, we have a description of the inner soul as the essence of the human being that needs clothing or levushim to be able to be expressed and function in our world. These garments are our differentiated characteristics that we wear over our souls, enabling us to relate to others in the physical reality in which we reside, while simultaneously seeking that ultimate relationship with God within our inner soul. These garments of physical beings are distinct from inner souls, facilitating the reality of earthly existence. Our bodies and souls are at one and the same time distinct from each other and ultimately form one entity. It is through the performance of deeds in our world that we bring them together in a synchronized manner. For the author of the Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the primary garment is that of instruction of the Torah for the Jew.8 How does one negotiate many different components of life while trying to achieve this wholeness? We do so through observance of religious ritual, through creation of and contribution to community, by seeing our individual selves as part of something so much bigger, and attempting to ascertain elements of The Divine Being in the midst of all. For example, when lighting the Sabbath lights weekly, we bring into consciousness the primary fire and infinite light of Creation as described in the Zohar while our experience is contained by the physical light of the candles. We are bringing the Malchut, God’s Kingdom, into our world as the flickering candle lights a much larger space. In another instance, by being in community and acknowledging the different talents and capacities of various people, we collectively come closer to the unity of all of these elements in God. Such explanations often appear for mitzvot, deeds and actions.9 The Kabbalistic approach shows how the seemingly disparate details of our  Steinsaltz, Opening the Tanya, especially Chapters One through Three.  Mitzvot are dictated ways in which the Jew engages with their world and its many facets, finding higher meanings that transcend physical limitations. To learn more about the example of light and fire and observances, there are many personal accounts which can be found at https://kabbalah.com/en/articles/revealing-your-hidden-light/ and www.chabad.org. As the “function of light is to reveal all,” in the words of the Lubavitcher Rebbe and others, every time one lights candles to mark celebrations or to memorialize those who have passed from this world, one recalls that it was light that was God’s first creation out of the chaos to help us order and unite all. Participating in the various acts of lighting candles helps us to partner with God in lighting and illuminating the world. 8 9

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lives become a unified entity. We come back to the One God through the many emanations of the Divine Presence in our world, compartmentalized to accommodate our human limits.

Intended Purposes for this Variation and the Inherent Discord that Accompanies it The creation of the human being and its capacities has everything to do with Jewish Mysticism and how we apply it. Let us consider this creation for a moment, looking at the two versions regarding the creation of humanity as a species in the beginning of Genesis. 1: 26 God said: ‘Let us make the earthling in our image, in our likeness; and let them have dominion over … the earth’ 27 God created the earthling in God’s image, in God’s image was the earthling created; male and female God created them. (Gen.1:26–27) 2: 18 The LORD God said: ‘It is not good that the earthling should be alone; I will make a help meet for the earthling.’ … 21 And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the earthling, who slept; and God took one of the ribs, and closed up the place with flesh in its place. 22 And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from the earthling, was made a woman, and God brought her unto the man. (Gen. 2: 18–22)

How do we reconcile these two accounts from the biblical notion of the beginning of humanity? Are we talking about a human being, as we know that being to exist, living on the physical Earth, or do we consider that in Kabbalah this narrative is about putting the elements that will be part of Creation together on a parallel plane of potential? In Kabbalah, heaven is Beriah, the world of created concepts and ideas. A mystic’s understanding might be to consider this stage the first idea of humanity— one androgynous being of light energy rather than two differentiated and necessarily limited separate gendered humans with defined characteristics. It is only after this first stage of conceptual creation that we can begin to discuss different human beings and their interactions with each other, their environment, and their Creator. This is identified as Yezirah—the plane that Kabbalah teaches is between Heaven and Earth, where the soul and characteristics of each individual being are planned prior to actualization as physical entities. This is also when we begin to see the vast variation

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and spectrum of human capacities and inclinations, soon described in the first chapters of Genesis.10 At the beginning of this process, the androgynous one primordial being becomes two human beings of different genders. That is to say that the original being God created, the earthling, was divided at the level of the soul into two equal human beings we now know as Adam and Eve. The Midrash, a commentary on our narrative, explains as follows11: Rabbi Jeremiah son of Elazar said: When the Holy One, blessed be God, created the first human, God created him a hermaphrodite [Greek: androgynos], for it is said, ‘male and female He created them (in one being)’ (Genesis 5:2). Rabbi Samuel son of Nachman said: When the Holy Blessed One, created the first human, God created him ‘double-faced.’ Then God split him and made him of two backs, one for this one and one for that one.

Now there are two beings, who are intended to relate to each other within their environment. Only after eating from the Tree of Knowledge did these earthlings put on “coats of skin,” becoming physical beings on Earth. This transition leads to divisions between male and female, divine and human, and good and bad. While these differentiations are necessary to live creatively in our world, we are taught that it is the eternal desire to recapture this initial unity before these divided elements defined us. This divisiveness occurs at all levels, within ourselves as human beings who often possess conflicted feelings, within communities in which it may often be difficult to reach accord, and among religious traditions themselves, each purporting to be the best way to reach an actualization or truth, recapturing the unity with The Creator of All. A while later, when Abraham is sent away from his past (Genesis, chapter 12ff.), the Zohar reminds us that all of these elements of self and God, as discordant as they may appear, accompany us no matter where we go: 10  See Chapters 1–11 of Genesis for a sparse telling of how many types of people and inclinations came to be. While this is not the primary purpose of the Torah/Jewish Bible narrative, it is an important part of our story as people with many different interests and capacities, all of whom were created by God. While this focus is on the differences that divide us, we know very well from modern science that all humans share more than 99 percent of their DNA markers. There is unity in our creation; we just have to look past the differences to see and embrace it. 11  Bereshit Rabbah, 8.1 from Samuel Rappoport, Tales and Maxims from the Midrash (London: Forgotten Books, first published in 1907, republished 2008).

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He went on his journeys [Genesis 13.3] Why does it say his journeys? Because there are two journeys—one his [Abraham’s] and one of the Shechina [with which God accompanies him]. For every human being should manifest as male and female to fortify one’s faith; then Shechina never leaves them. (Zohar 149.b)

With these divisions comes the potential for creative good as well as divisive and harmful destruction. In Abraham’s case, he left what was familiar in order to find something better and be his more authentic self. While these journeys on which he embarked succeeded, this is not always the case in such transitions. How do we ensure that proper intentions are guiding us, avoiding those that are not so correct for our reality? Just as all good and not-good elements are found in God, they are part of our reality as well. It is from here that our creative desire to initiate and improve evolves; our challenge is to keep it in check. In looking for this unity it is no accident that scholars of Jewish Mysticism have not explored its depths in isolation but within the context of other pursuits, providing discordant perspectives leading to that sought-after unity. Throughout history, Jewish scholars, mystics, and text commentators as well as scientists, mathematicians, philosophers, artists, and others influenced and were influenced by each other. Many of them developed their own perspective on the secrets of Kabbalistic thinking within this multi-­ disciplinary approach, reflecting in their methodology the same goal of unity that appears in the work they produced. To cite a few among many examples, in the first half of the tenth century, Rav Saadia Gaon authored the work Emunot ve-Deot (The Book of Beliefs and Ideas), providing texts and insights, culminating with the notion of the correct and unified way in which we should behave based on theological instruction and thinking. Integrating his study of cosmology, theology, and anthropology, he explains how God created the human being as a unified singular whole, containing thirteen different attributes and desires that are distinct within themselves as well as being important elements in the collective whole. He shows that in the experience of these diverse components of who we are, we will realize our unified selves.12

12  Dr Joseph Dan, Jewish Mysticism and Jewish Ethics (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1986). For a fuller discussion and identification of more mystics, see Chapter Two, 18–54.

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Rabbi Solomon ibn Gabirol, an eleventh-century poet and neo-­Platonic Jewish philosopher, engaged in a similar process in his work Tikkun Midot HaNefesh (The Correction of the Soul’s Inclinations). In his schematic, there are twenty human capacities and corresponding ethical qualities, divided into pairs, such as pride and humility. The qualities are arranged in a variety of dyads and combinations, including connection to the five senses of the human being as well as the four formative elements with which Creation began—fire, water, earth, and air. By placing these elements in various permutations, ibn Gabirol shows that we need the variegation of these components to reach the vastness of the unity from which they initially emanated.13 The Book of Genesis begins with the words: 1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2 The earth was unformed and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters. (Genesis 1: 1–2)

The Zohar amplifies the concealment of this beginning as God’s realm only: With this beginning, the unknown concealed one created the palace. This palace is called Elohim. The secret is Bereshit Bara Elohim. The God we perceive is created by the Unknown Unified Being that is too bright and intense for us to absorb. (Zohar 1.15a)

Throughout Creation, God speaks, brings forth, separates and divides, and takes a multitude of actions to bring forth a variety of species, elements, and all necessary components of the extremely complicated ecosystem in which we function, which we perceive as separate, different, and disparate. In so doing, there are parallel planes of activity—one for God and one for mortal beings. Whether explaining Creation and its elements as briefly and broadly described in the earliest chapters of Genesis or talking about what it means for the human to be created BeTzelem Elokim— in the image of God—we are told that our life in this world reflects the world of God, with human activity paralleling that of Divine Essence. The

 Ibid.

13

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most compelling differentiation of these realms is that of Olam Ha’Zeh, this world of physical existence, and Olam Ha’Ba, the World to Come.14 The Zohar provides an expansion of the brief Torah narrative, illuminating the unity of God, the origins and structure of the universe, the nature of souls, redemption, and the relationship of the individual to darkness, light, and God. Seemingly opposing forces to the human eye are complementary elements in God’s realm, interrelated and dependent upon each other. Darkness, brilliant to God but not to human perception, is needed so there is light; lack of good is necessary to determine good. All is necessary in the unified whole in which all elements are functions of each other. The human task is to find and maintain balance in uniting all elements. Thus, we try to understand the sefirot, emanations of God’s presence in the world, containing both feminine and masculine qualities that create and facilitate unity when joined together.15 These ten emanations allow the Ein Sof (Infinite Being of God) to be revealed and function both in the physical and higher metaphysical realms. This forms the Seder Hishtalshelus, or chain of emanations, in which the male God power of light balances with the Shechina, the Divine female energy, in presenting itself in the human realm. While there are differences among the adherents of Kabbalah 14  Olam Ha’Zeh, this world of physical existence, and Olam Ha’Ba, the World to Come, are important concepts in Jewish Mysticism and many discussions in Kabbalistic texts use these frameworks to structure discussions. The connection between how one lives in the world of physical existence and its impact on their experience in the World to Come is central to so many explanations of Jewish aspirations. For a basic definition of these two terms, the reader is referred to Gabriella Samuel, The Kabbalah Handbook: A Concise Encyclopedia of Terms and Concepts in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Penguin Group, 2007), 255–256. 15  Briefly, while the actual discussion of the emanations is far more complex that this study allows, the first sefirot is Keter (crown), which describes the Divine superconscious will that is beyond conscious intellect. The next three sefirot are Chochmah (wisdom), Binah (understanding), and Da’at (knowledge). These represent the three levels of conscious Divine Intellect. The seven remaining sefirot are Chesed (kindness), Gevurah (strength), Tiferet (wonder), Netzach (eternity), Hod (glory), Yesod (foundation), and Malchut (kingdom). These are the primary and secondary conscious Divine emotions. Feminine and masculine elements run through these emanations of God’s presence, to be paralleled by human aspirations and characteristics. For a fuller contextual discussion, consider Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh, What You Need to Know about Kabbalah (Jerusalem: Gal Einai Institute, 2006). For further discussion of the complexities and thinking of Jewish Mysticism, the reader is referred to The Sefer Yetzirah/The Book of Creation: In Theory and Practice, trans. and explained by Rav Aryeh Kaplan (NY: Samuel Weiser, Inc., 1997) and The Bahir, trans. Rav Aryeh Kaplan (Lanham, Maryland: Aronson Publishers, 1995).

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regarding details of these emanations, all agree that collectively, these sefirot are channels of the Divine life force which meets human consciousness as the unknowable Divine essence becomes united with the human being, both accommodating limitations and guiding our reach toward the Ein Sof. For example, consider this explanation from the Zohar on the first verse of Genesis: ‘In the beginning’—Gen 1.1.—when the will of the King began to take effect, God engraved signs into the heavenly sphere. A dark flame issued from the mystery of the Ein Sof, the Infinite, like a fog forming in the unformed … neither white nor black, neither red not green, of no color whatever. Only after this flame began to assume size and dimension did it produce radiant colors… Beyond this point nothing can be known. Therefore, it is called reshit, beginning—the first word by means of which the universe has been created. …The whole world, upper and lower, is organized on this principle, from the primary mystic center to the very outermost of all the layers. All are coverings, the one to the other, brain within brain, spirit inside of spirit, shell within shell. The primal center is the innermost light … extended [it] becomes a ‘palace … [and then] extends into a vestment for itself, the primal light…’ (Zohar 1.15a)16

In Jewish Mysticism, spirituality is the process whereby we find God in one’s self and the self in God. We do so within the reality of our lives to transcend the limits of that corporeal reality (i.e., as with the garments discussed below by the ARI and his student, and colors in the Zohar text above) that enables and defines our existence. In Hasidic mystical understanding, the enactments of religious belief, following the mitzvot, the deeds that comprise daily life, facilitate this dynamic, encompassing all equally needed elements, unifying with each other. Isaac Luria Ashkenazi, the ARI (1534–1572), was a respected Jewish mystic in Tzefat, Israel, who discovered the Zohar in his teen years. Like Rashbi, he spent years in a hut near the Nile in isolation, but would return home for the weekly Shabbat, thus able to balance his learning and his worldview. This balance would prove of great importance as he would expand upon the teachings of Rashbi and others while he channeled 16  Colors are another form of categorization that will be part of the creative process and thus the reality of the lives led in This World. For God, all colors are as one; yet the human eye and mind cannot perceive this. Colors, time, light and dark, gender, and other categorizations enable the human trajectory of life to take place.

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himself to learn with earlier Jewish mystics while sequestering himself. He taught extensively about this balance of the different realms and how they were represented in the very physical body of the human individual: In the human being, we also find ‘earth’ and ‘heaven.’ The diaphragm [right below the solar plexus] divides the organs of breathing [the respiratory system] from the organs of digestion. In the larger universe, this [diaphragm] corresponds to the firmament [atmosphere] that is spread out over the earth.17

The diaphragm is thus seen as a separation between the more spiritual aspects of the body (“Heaven”) and the lower, more physical aspects (“Earth”). Clearly, both are needed and are inextricably connected, one not able to survive without the other. This is just one of many examples of how each distinct part of the body is not only needed for earthly existence but is also paralleled by its partner element in the larger context of God’s created reality. At the beginning of his treatise Shaarei Kedusha (The Gates of Holiness), the ARI’s most celebrated disciple, Rabbi Chaim Vital (1543–1620), similarly teaches that even the “masters of the sciences” know that a person’s body is not his/her essence but rather a vehicle for one’s soul. The inner being in which all aspects of one’s self are unified (paralleling the reality of God) is the true essential self, only needing the cloak of the body to travel through this physical realm.18 It is here that unity is found; by stripping away all of the levushim/vestments one returns to the beginning of unity with The Holy One and all that God created, before all of the distractions of the world. At this juncture, we are reminded, only God can go to before all that was. In the Talmud (e.g., Hagiga 12b) we are often reminded about the physical limits of how far the human can reach and to focus on the balance to be found in this world. There is plenty of peeling away of layers to be done within the parameters of being human, leaving what is the realm of Divine to God and just continuing to acknowledge the value of reaching as far as we can, while not being blinded by the brilliance of what is beyond our capacity to absorb.

17  Moshe Wisnefsky, Apples from the Orchard: Gleanings from the Mystical Teachings of Rabbi Yitzchak Luria-the Arizal on the Weekly Torah Portion (US: Google Books, 2006). 18  Ibid.

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In perceiving and relating to God, we deal with this discord between unity and categorizations that limit us. Rabbi Mordechai Silverstein, like others, succinctly articulates the significance of God using the name “I will be what I will be” (Exodus 3:14). The Divine has many names, changing over time and responding to different situations and needs,19 yet always part of the one, the Unified Whole, as we have seen with Ramchal and others. It is significant that we can neither pronounce God’s name nor identify God by any singular characteristic, for they are inextricably intertwined in God’s Unity. When we say that the human being is created in the image of God, it is the capacity of the human that is reflective of the many different capabilities and attributes of God, but never attaining the Unity that is God’s alone. Each human has pieces of this much larger puzzle contained in them, and only when we bring our various beings and different abilities and capacities together do we become a collective, mirroring the unity of God in our communities and in our lives in which we try to find belonging and meaning. We use words to name concepts in order to communicate these and other notions. However, we are taught that the concepts and the entirety of their meaning are only at best represented by the words we use, as exemplified in attempts to explain God and God’s characteristics through anthropomorphic terms that evoke a somewhat false sense of understanding largess by reduction. We reduce infinity, defining it in a necessarily finite manner, and then try to recapture infinity in our experience. The upper water is male and the lower water is female, and the lower is sustained by the male. The lower waters call out to the upper like a female who opens up for the male, and she spills water corresponding to the male water that produces semen. The female is nourished by the male. (Zohar, 1.29b)

Elliot R. Wolfson teaches that a “perfect homology exists between the divine and the mundane spheres: just as the divine feminine can assume the qualities of the male, so too can the earthly biological woman be gendered as masculine.”20 He looks at the composite whole of the genders 19  Rabbi Mordechai Silverstein, Torah Sparks: Parshat Va’era, United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism Blog, February, 2020, available at https://uscj.org/blog/ torahsparks-parashat-vaera5780. 20  Elliot R. Wolfson, “On Becoming Female: Crossing the Gender Boundaries in Kabbalistic Ritual and Myth,” in Gender and Judaism: The Transformation of Tradition, ed. Tamar Rudavsky (New York and London: New York University Press, 1995), 209.

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uniting as focus of intended unity, much more sophisticated and elevated than mere words could communicate. He also addresses theodicy, which is necessarily part of the religious gestalt when considering that all we know and experience comes from the totality of God. While this concern is often presented by scholars, Wolfson posits that if things that are not-­ good and destructive come from the totality of all that God is in God’s goodness, then either that goodness or the omnipotence attributed to God must be limited, but how can this be? Here darkness is seen as part of light, male as part of female, and so on.21 All components of our existence are not to be perceived as dualistic or dueling elements, but rather as part of each other in their totality. Rabbi Akiba teaches in Hagiga 15a, “God created the righteous and God created the wicked, God created the Garden of Eden and created Gehenom.” This is emblematic of the Unity of God. The Kabbalists continued to consider how one uses mysticism as a screen through which one can better discern the original intent God had in creation of the world and all that it contains. Specifically, in crafting the Jewish system of living, the aspirations of mysticism serve to increase intentionality of observance. For the Lurianic system, ‘triviality and tediousness’ was removed from religious and ethical behavior. Instead of repetition of a prayer or a deed being rote and automatic, each engagement was to represent more intentionality and elevation of the soul and body in seeking unity with God.22

Herein, ethics, behaviors, and aspirations were to unite to resolve experienced discord and disparity. In so doing, the human reaches their own parallel plane of unity corresponding to that of God, within the parameters of human aspirations. In Genesis chapter One, verses: 3, 6, 9, 11, 14–15, 20, 22, 26, 28, and 29–30, we find expressions of the emanations of God’s Divine light parallel to God’s ten dibrot (i.e., God’s creating by word or fiat), or thought, through which all was created during the seven periods of time of creation described briefly in the beginning of Genesis. Additionally, these parallel the ten capacities of the human being and the ten aspects of natural forces,

21  Elliot R.  Wolfson, “Light through Darkness: The Ideal of Human Perfection in the Zohar,” The Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 81, No. 1 (Jan., 1988) 73–95. 22  Dan, p. 102.

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that is, all that is represented in the sefirot themselves.23 These sefirot are all part of the Unity of God, not to be confused with the notion in many other traditions of a multiplicity of deities. The “fulfillment of the soul” is the optimum realization of its potential in our world, being the way to be at one with God. In Jewish sources, the soul consists of five successive levels of potential consciousness, each of which is endowed with representative faculties of the others. This parallels the levels of being within the structure of the sefirot. Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin (1747–1821), a Talmudist and Ethicist, taught that the top of each level of the soul cleaves to the bottom of the one above and below it. In this manner, differences that are needed to survive in this reality (Olam HaZeh) are joined in a correlative manner to the unity of The Creator God. His paradigm is just one of many teachings of Jewish Mysticism used by scholars addressing the disconnect between our human limits and God’s infinite realm.24 In thinking beyond this world, we learn “the principle … is that man was not created for the experience of this world, but for his experience in the World to Come. … No intelligent human being can possibly believe that the ultimate purpose of his existence is to be realized in this world. For, after all, what is one’s life in this world like?”25 As Ramchal teaches: ‘And the earth was without form and void.’ There seems to be some reason for the earth’s despondency, as though she was aware of her lot beforehand. This may be illustrated by the following parable: A king acquired two servants on precisely the same conditions, but made a distinction in their treatment. Regarding the one, he decreed that she should be fed and maintained at the expense of the king. For the other, he decided that she must maintain herself by her own labor. In the same way, the earth was sad because she saw that the heavens and the earth were equally and at the same time called into being by the same ‘let there be,’ or will of God, and yet the heavenly bodies feast on: and are maintained by divine glory; whilst earthly bodies, unless they labor and produce their own sustenance, are not sustained. … 23  This is a general theme that runs through the work of Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh, What You Need to Know about Kabbalah (Jerusalem: Gal Einai Institute, 2006). This institute is dedicated to teaching about the secrets of Kabbalah in language and words carefully used to spread knowledge while maintaining the integrity of the texts and concepts explored. Go to https://www.inner.org/about/test. 24  Gershon Winkler, The Soul of the Matter (New York: The Judaica Press, 1982), 7. 25  Rabbi Moshe Chayim Luzzato, The Way of God, trans. Arye Kaplan (New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1988), Chapters One and Two.

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Thus, …God’s words spoken afterward to Adam (Gen. iii. 17): ‘Cursed is the ground for thy sake,’ put on mourning, and thus was ‘without form and void.’26

Olam HaZeh, the human level of existence, was created precisely so that the human could go through the creative process parallel to that of God’s realm and have an investment in what this reality would become. Only then can there be hope of achieving something better, not because it was given or bestowed upon us but because through actions and initiatives, it is earned. As we learn in Genesis Rabbah: If man had been created out of spiritual elements only there could be no death for him, in the event of his fall. If, on the other hand, he had been created out of matter only, there could be no future bliss for him. Hence, he was formed of matter and spirit. If he lives the earthly, i.e., the animal life only, he dies like all matter; if he lives a spiritual life he obtains the spiritual future bliss.27

Clearly, this discord that so characterizes the human condition is necessary for us to achieve the goals of unity, enlightenment, and so much else in Kabbalistic thinking. Thus, we are to strive for a higher, more evolved level of existence that can only be a by-product of having gone through the levels of challenges in this world of our reality.

Importance in Jewish Practice of Attaining a Significant Sense of the Unified Whole by Attending to the Details of Our Lives This seeking has led to traditions that extend beyond the practical, legal, and dictated ramifications of what it means to be Jewish as taught by scholars who have brought these different elements into a unified gestalt. The success of achieving this unity is found within the details of Jewish practice, used as building blocks toward something that in its totality and dimensionality is truly greater than the sum of its parts. There are examples throughout Jewish Law of this dynamic, such as building of the 26  Rabbi Moshe Chayim Luzzato, The Path of the Just, trans. Schraga Silverstein (New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1990) 47. 27  Genesis Rabbah, on Genesis, chapters 1–3, from Rappoport, 48–49.

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Tabernacle or clothing of the priests for which every detail was dictated and meanings attached, both on the human plane and on the parallel plane of God’s existence.28 In considering relationships we have as human beings, marriage is the ultimate expression of achieving unity in our tangible world within normative Jewish practice and Kabbalistic teachings. Marriage brings a personal union in the human realm onto a parallel plane with God’s singular being. In Seder Hishtalshelut29 we learn that during the process of creation and the fashioning of the human realm, the vessels from the Divine Plane were shattered and we are constantly trying to put them back together. This is accomplished through the use of Divine characteristics where masculine (zachar) and feminine (nekevah) capacities unite to birth the next generation of flow of Divinity into the world of our reality. This interplay of male and female energies occurs within the sefirot and every aspect of existence. The most powerful union of these energies in Kabbalah is marriage, rejoining the one being that was separated into two and now will return to being one. This is repeated as an iteration of Ma’aseh Bereshit, the actions through which God energy and that of the Created World became One. As Adam and Eve were separated from the first earthling, marriage reenacts Adam and Eve rejoining as one. In doing so, the human beings who have joined as one are partners with God. In birthing the next generation, they are part of the creative process in a profound way. That partnership extends to all aspects of life lived. As we learn: Do not read ‘you are My people’[am] but rather ‘you are with Me’ [imi] as in you are My partner [in Creation]! Just as I have made Heaven and Earth

28  From stipulated parts of the Tabernacle to clothing of the Kohanim (priests) to the steps of sacrifices and all that is dictated in the Torah, as well as practices that evolve from them, such as prayer and laws regarding permitted food, Kabbalistic texts and thinkers consistently attribute higher meanings to these actions. While we see them as real in their tangible presence, they may be placeholders for a higher reality, uniting adherent and God. 29  In Kabbalistic and Hasidic philosophy, Seder Hishtalshelut is the chain-like descent of spiritual worlds between God and Creation, which is necessary for God and human beings to be able to meet each other. Involved is Tzimtzum, God’s contraction to make room for human presence and how interaction between the two is achieved with God’s omnipresence in Olam HaZeh, this world of human and tangible reality. Each spiritual world denotes a complete realm of existence, resulting from its spatial relationship to Divine revelation, and each level is joined both to the one above and the one below it, creating an unbroken chain.

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by speaking, as is said ‘By the Word of God the Heavens were made’ (Psalms 33.6), so do you. Happy are those engaged in Torah. (Zohar 1.5a)

The ideal in Jewish life is to engage in the parallel human level of existence, living a life of deeds and actions that evolve directly from the Unity that is the source of the secrets. It is in this manner that the actions and dictated practices of Jewish living provide a framework for us to absorb distinct aspects of Divinity in appropriate measures for our human existence. While the breakdown is necessary to live our lives, the totality of all we do adds up to the highest discernment possible in this plane of existence. Otherwise, we could not exist because the vastness of God’s reality and the limits inherent in our lives would not be able to connect. For example, let us consider the elements of light and time created in the first period of time, which God created ex nihilo and would be exceedingly too bright and elongated for human eyes and comprehension. These are not the luminaries we perceive and consider as part of the rhythm of our lives. Those come into being during the fourth period of time of creation. Similarly, time periods defined in creation are not necessarily twenty-four-­ hour days as we know them, but rather undefined periods of time in God’s realm. While “time” in God’s reality cannot be equated with that which we know and by which we organize our lives, the concept of this defined period of time as a “day” is a necessary function in the human realm.30 Once we have the units of day and night and light and dark that can accommodate the survival of the human being, we add many markers for our existence, including celebrations, periods of prayer, dictated limits of how we use resources, and regulations for our relations with others, all to protect and insure that life in Olam HaZeh is successful and we will be ready to go through its corridor to achieve everlasting existence in Olam HaBa, bringing unity with God.

30  Rabbi Gerald L. Schroeder, Ph.D., Genesis and the Big Bang: The Discovery of Harmony Between Modern Science and the Bible (New York: Bantam Book, 1982). Schroeder brings science and religion together as distinct realms of truths that parallel each other in remarkable ways in trying to explain the secrets of the universe, and in so doing, there are thoughts and influences from Kabbalah present as well. Chapters Two, Three, and Five are specifically recommended regarding the discussion here. Schroeder employs the elements and system of structuralism in making God’s time and existence more understandable to us, akin to the work of Jewish Mysticism.

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In Masechet Hagiga 12a ff, we learn about the esoteric nature of the unity of all that was created in the beginning. This notion is addressed in various haggadic narratives in the Talmud. Rab Judah said that Rab said: Ten things were created the first period of time of Creation (Yom) and they are: heaven and earth, Tohu [chaos], Bohu [nothingness], light and darkness, wind and water and the measure of a day and the measure of a night….Rab Zutra ben Tobiah said that Rab said: by ten things was the world created: By wisdom and understanding, by reason and strength, by rebuke and by might, by righteousness and judgment, by lovingkindness and compassion.

We must be cognizant of the difference between God’s language and human language, accommodating such dynamics as limitation of words, expansiveness of their potential for meaning, God’s time and human time, and so forth. The very word for world in Hebrew—Olam—is from the root of he’elem, to disappear. This leads us to ask ourselves: What is real? For this world, real is what is tangible. However, in Jewish Mysticism, what is real is our essential self, stripped of all of the tangible garments we wear. Again, it is incumbent upon us to remember that the more we assign words and try to describe in order to discern, the more we divide and move further from the Divine Source in which all is unified, not in need of the very words which the human being uses as markers, like light and dark, units of time, and so forth. God intentionally created the human within a rather unrefined environment in which there is great diversity,31 according to Kabbalah. Only with incompleteness and the need for creativity would the human use free choice to aspire to live on a heightened plane on which one could ascend to truly use their full potential as being created in the image of God. The human had to be shielded from the bright light and presence of God in order to have that which is not-good as an option so that one could choose good through one’s own will.

31  For a discussion on structuralism and how one works across the disciplines indicated here with parallel processes and resolutions, see Jerome M.  Levi, “Structuralism and Kabbalah: Sciences of Mysticism or Mystifications of Science?” Anthropological Quarterly Vol. 82, No. 4 (Fall, 2009): 929–984. Levi makes the point that when these disciplines share the perspective that surface diversity can mask underlying unity, this may serve to blur the lines between the distinct domains of study, in this case, religion, mysticism, and science.

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Rabbi Isaac said: At the Creation, God irradiated the world from end to end with the light, but then it was withdrawn so as to deprive the wrongdoers of the world of its enjoyment and it was stored away for the righteous ones. (Rashi and Zohar 1.15a ff)

Herein lies the goal of existence on the human plane—to engage in concrete actions, to the best of our ability try to discern their higher meanings, and thus, to prepare oneself for ultimate unity with God while negotiating one’s path in this world engaging in actions dictated for that purpose.

Conclusion: Return to Pervasive Unity of God With Guidance From Jewish Mysticism on How Jewish Practices and Rituals Achieve Such a Goal What is the cave? Can it be this world or is it the ideal world of God concepts and ultimate unity? Perhaps Shimon bar Yochai and his son were not ready for the cave into which they retreated. If the cave is the world of God concepts, maybe it is Olam HaBa, but only achievable after addressing and confronting the challenges and reality of Olam HaZeh. One must complete the journey of acknowledging the limitations of the human reality, while being accompanied by God as was Abraham, and returning us to union with God and all that God is. Why is this world not perfect? Why is there so much discord? Precisely so that the human being can utilize their free will to choose correctly and try to leave it a bit better by learning to do God’s will and to be unified with that will. For Eliyahu Dessler (1892–1953) as well as so many others, this world is a prozdor, or corridor, to the next world. This is not the world of reality but rather it is a practice run or test world for true reality which exists in the world to come. Our daily world is the only one we in our human form can understand and live in. Therefore, our task is that we should strive to be the best we can here in preparation for the world to come. Dessler postulates that life, rightly understood, consists of that toward which an individual directs his strivings. When a person directs all his strivings toward what Dessler calls “worldly vanities,” that being is empty and insignificant. But if the self uses the material resources of this world for

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good purpose and directs its strivings to spiritual, other-worldly concerns, that self enjoys the life of the world to come even here on Earth.32 In Plato’s cave allegory, in which the confined prisoners are observing only shadows of passing objects, Socrates explains that many live their lives in just this manner. For him, the philosopher is like a prisoner who is freed from the cave and comes to understand that the shadows on the wall are not reality at all, for he can perceive the true form of reality rather than the reflection of reality in the shadows seen by the prisoners. For the Jewish mystic, perhaps the manner in which we are confined to this world is just that type of trap, in thinking about reality. We have to look beyond and consider that the various elements of Jewish living are to sustain us in this world while keeping us attuned to the reality of the world to come. As we recall, the experiential result of solitary confinement in the cave was to separate the self from all of the discord that characterized the outside world and its conflicts. The challenge is for us, as it was for Shimon bar Yochai and his son, to apply these ideals of unity and accord in a world very much at odds with this. It is only by joining these elements of life, not separating them, that we can hope to create unity out of the discord we experience.

Bibliography Aibes, Rabbi Yosef. Seder Hishtalshelut al pi Mishnat Chabad. Jerusalem: Heichel Menachem. Carmell, Aryeh and Dessler, Rabbi Eliyahu E. Strive for Truth. New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1978. Dan, Dr. Joseph. Jewish Mysticism and Jewish Ethics. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1986. Ginsburgh, Rabbi Yitzchak. What You Need to Know about Kabbalah. Jerusalem: Gal Einai Institute, 2006. Luzzato, Rabbi Moshe Chayim. The Path of the Just. Translated by Schraga Silverstein. New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1990.

32  Aryeh Carmell, Rabbi Eliyahu E.  Dessler, Strive for Truth (New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1978), 31 ff and 93ff. Dessler belongs firmly in the Musar tradition. He was a great-grandson of Israel Salanter, the founder of the Musar movement. He was also a scholar of Kabbalah and Hasidism and, to a lesser extent, of modern psychological theories, often referring in his lectures to Freudian theories. He was a highly original Jewish theologian whose views were respected even by thinkers who did not adhere to traditional Judaism.

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Samuel, Gabriella. The Kabbalah Handbook: A Concise Encyclopedia of Terms and Concepts in Jewish Mysticism. New York: Penguin Group, 2007. Scherman, Rabbi Nosson, ed. The Stone Edition: The Tanach. New York: Mesorah Publications, 2000. Schottenstein Edition of the Babylonian Talmud. New  York: Mesorah Publications, 1983. Silverstein, Rabbi Mordechai. “Torah Sparks: Parshat Va’era, United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism Blog, February, 2020. Steinsaltz, Rabbi Adin. Learning from the Tanya, Volume Two. San Francisco: Jossey Bass Publishers, 2005. ———. Opening the Tanya: Discovering the Moral and Mystical Teachings of a Classic Work of Kabbalah. San Francisco: Jossey Bass Publishers, 2003. Winkler, Gershon. The Soul of the Matter. New York: The Judaica Press, 1982. Wolfson, Elliot R., “Light through Darkness: The Ideal of Human Perfection in the Zohar,” The Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 81, No. 1 (Jan., 1988). 73–95. https://www.jstor.org/stable/1509586. Wolfson, Elliot R. “On Becoming Female: Crossing the Gender Boundaries in Kabbalistic Ritual and Myth.” In Gender and Judaism: The Transformation of Tradition, edited by Tamar Rudavsky. New  York and London: New  York University Press, 1995.

CHAPTER 5

“The Immense Oceans of God’s Love”: Rumi’s Oceanic Imagery Fariba Darabimanesh and Christian van Gorder

Love is not contained in speech and hearing: Love is an ocean whereof the depth is invisible. The drops of the sea cannot be numbered: the Seven Seas are petty in comparison with that Ocean.—Masnavi, Book 5

Sufism has been called “a name without a reality that was once a reality without a name.”1 One of Sufism’s most treasured poets, Jalal al-din Rumi, lived in Central Asia during perilous times. Born in Balkh (Greater Persia) in 1207, Rumi resided for most of his life in Konya (modern-day 1  Lloyd Ridgeon, Morals and Mysticism in Persian Sufism: A History of Sufi-futuwwat in Iran (London: Routledge, 2010), 28.

F. Darabimanesh (*) Tehran, Iran C. van Gorder Queen’s University Belfast, Belfast, UK Religion Department, Baylor University, Waco, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_5

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Turkey), where, in 1273, he died or—as he preferred to say—went through “the process of transcending the angel to become the ocean.”2 History remembers Rumi as a far-reaching lyricist of overflowing ebullience, an enthusiast of unifying harmonies, and a humble believer in the magic of life. His rambling verse reverberates today because “Rumi was not a poet of Persia or Rum but a bard who sings for the universe; interpreting what lies dormant within it; without recognition; without use; and without purpose.”3 When reading the writings of a Sufi Master, we must first appreciate the motives and objectives of these texts. Idris Shah clarifies: “Sufi applications are the application of knowledge already gained by the people who have gained it. It is not the carrying on of an age-old custom or even the moving from one piece of discovered information to the next. The assertion by the Sufi that they have not only travelled this way before but—therefore— know best the unique ways to retrace their steps, with their students, is non-negotiable.”4 Rumi wrote out of the depth of his personal, spiritual experiences: Although he resided far from the sea, the Mawlana (“Great Master” or “Beloved Friend”) often used all-encompassing maritime images in verses to describe a sense of majestic awe and grandeur.5 Why does Rumi return to this thematic image? How is Rumi’s use of oceanic images unique to his ideas about the scope of human experience? Was Rumi’s frequent use of oceanic images exceptional to his poetry or was this imagery part of a larger thematic thread among Sufi poets? How did Rumi relate to descriptions of the sea to convey something unfathomable while also striving to portray the dynamics of individual transformations? This chapter offers a brief introduction to Rumi’s use of images of the sea as a realm of purity and as a holder of divine secrets. In Sufism, spiritual truths are independent of outward forms but are often explained with images borrowed from nature. Rumi offers ocean imagery as an invitation away from all that is prosaic in daily lives of drudgery. Rumi calls us toward a renewing baptismal immersion into what Sufism calls “annihilation” (Arabic, fana)—a sense of fulfillment that comes when  Leslie Wines, Rumi: A Spiritual Biography (New York: Crossroads, 2000), 147.  Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1975), 140. 4  Idris Shah, A Perfumed Scorpion (London: Octagon Press, 2000), 192. 5  Mawlana or Molanais a term that is used mostly in Persia, the other term is a Turkish term with the name ofMevlana. 2 3

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one’s ego is “annihilated” and joined with the expansiveness of God’s greatness. Change is possible in our spiritual lives only after the grasping nature of our ego is destroyed. What is lost when we surrender our selfish ego to the presence of God is a “frail nothing distributed over a hundred unimportant affairs, over thousands of desires and great matters and small.”6 Each of us—as separate individuals—is nothing more than “a drop of water cast into the mightiest ocean.”7 Our spiritual lives are lived on the shoreline of a vast presence of divine transformation and prevailing embraces of healing graces that offer to draw us closer into the presence of God. In the tradition of the Persian poet Hakim Abu’l-Majd Majdud Sana’i, Fariduddin Attar of Nishapur, and other Sufi Masters, Rumi envisioned an unseen world waiting to be discovered—and then explored—which was close at hand. Otherworldly domains are waiting for us to experience to the degree that we submit to God. Sufism is part of an ancient faith that inspires individuals to focus on what is ultimately of eternal value. Abdullah Ansari of Herat recounts that even the Prophet Jesus, when asked why he did not build a residence, responded, “I have no interest in occupying myself with something with which I will not be associated till the end of time.”8 Attar reflected on the “ocean of the soul”: “Out of the ocean, like rain-clouds, come and travel. For without traveling, you will never become a pearl!”9 A numinous expedition toward insight requires “to come out towards oneself” through an internalized journey.10 To help pilgrims on this quest, Rumi, Attar, and Sana’i turned to allegories as doors of wisdom-­ insights about the light of God’s presence, asking us to connect the finite with the immeasurable oceans of the infinite. Rumi imparted that a “person of God is a boundless Sea.”11 Rumi, however, was not distinct in using ocean imagery as a way to accentuate esoteric insights. The revelations of the Holy Qur’an symbolically 6  William C.  Chittick, The Sufi Doctrine of Rumi (Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2005), 91. 7  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 131. 8  Ansari, Tafsir-e Erfani, volume 1, 557, cited in Jesus in the Eyes of the Sufis, Javad Nurbakhsh, ed. (London: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi Publications, 1983), 85. 9  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 303. 10  Henri Corbin, The Man of Light in Iranian Sufism (Boulder, CO: Shambala, 1978), 60. 11  Afzal Iqbal, The Life and Work of Muhammad Jalal-ud-din Rumi (Delhi: Kitabbhavan, 2006), 290.

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mention oceans (Arabic, bahr) 32 times. Sufi Abu’l-Qasim Muhammad al-­Junayd called the faithful to be “sunk [drowned] into the sea of God’s unity.”12 Persian Sufi Bayazid Bastami (“The King of the Gnostics”) was “someone who had drunk up the Seas of Heaven and Earth without his thirst being slaked,” always “crying out—Is there anymore?”13 Hazrat Bastami encouraged the zealously devoted to have a drunken “generosity like that of the ocean.”14 Hazrat Attar sought in his devotional life to recklessly “dive into” the overwhelming presence of God, “the sea of wisdom.”15 When writing about the ocean from a psychoanalytical perspective, Swiss psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung argued that the sea connotes ancient origins. According to Jung: “The sea is the favorite symbol for the unconscious because it is the mother of all that lives”16 Rumi relied on metaphors of the ocean as an archetypal symbol for mystery, infinity, timelessness and eternity, and death and rebirth. This approach of seating knowledge within a sense of an immeasurable vastness beyond the limits of cognition is echoed in the traditions of the Prophet Jesus, who told his disciples: “The truths of the world have been hidden from others and given to you to understand” (Mark 4:11). For Rumi, the ideas of “soul” and “spirit” are best appreciated through conceptual frameworks of journeying transitions from everyday experiences toward a union with the divine. We are gradually able to transition through the “rubbish heaps of the world” and overcome daily trials as we root ourselves in the infinite wisdom of the unknowable God in the same way a traveler passes from a parched desert toward the expanses of a dark ocean.17 For the Mawlana, the Absolute is “an ocean without borders.” In

12  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 146. The honorific term “King of the Gnostics” is cited in Arabic (the language Bastami used) at http://www.naqshbandi.uk/naqshbandimujadidi/abu-ba-yazid-bostami-ra/168-sultan-al-arifin-khwaja-bayazid-bustami136-261-h, accessed September 21, 2021. 13  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 51. The honorific term Hazrat is used throughout Iran and South Asia. 14  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 346. 15  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 237. 16  Erinç Özdemir, “A Jungian Reading of Ibsen’s ‘The Lady From the Sea,’” Ibsen Studies, 2:1, 34–53. 17  Ibrahim Gamard, translator and editor, Rumi and Islam: Selections of His Stories, Poems and Discourses (Woodstock, VT: Skylight Paths, 2004), 127.

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his six-volume poem, The Masnavi, Rumi taught: “Every drop of the sea is embodied in an apparent form.”18

Oceans of Divine Presence Rumi often utilized familiar images from the natural world to point readers toward hidden truths that defy simple identifications. Many of us are blind to reachable spiritual truths because—in our lives crammed with demands and obligations—we are preoccupied with sensuality and inattention. Because of this, Sufi poets have used symbolic language as a way to encrypt meaning for those willing to search for a deeper connection with God. Contrary to some views, the framework of esoteric hiddenness is actually a form of facilitation and should not be seen as an approach of exclusive separateness only obtainable for a few great souls. In fact, Sufi poets such as Rumi stress that the richness of the presence of God is available to all of us with access points into that presence all around us, waiting to be understood through natural symbols such as the unfathomable oceans. Hafez pleads: “Let go of the ego. For, from eye of mine and of thine— hidden is the mystery of this veil.” 19 As Rumi relates, those who search for intimacy with God must journey from wherever they are in their oblique day-to-day lives toward an ocean of the divine presence, which is our final destination: “I will not make my home except in a sea: I will not make a lake my dwelling-place. I will seek the boundless sea and become safe: I will go in safety and welfare forever.”20 Oceanic waves feature prominently in Qur’anic accounts of paradise (e.g., Q. 2:25). The oceans are a seemingly limitless source of water and this reminds us that there would be no sustaining life at all in the world without water (Q. 21:30; 24:45). The Mawlana posits that the presence of a loving God is like an enormous sea that covers the universe and nurtures every life. All life is dependent on the sustaining presence of the Creator— the source of life—in the same way that a fish cannot long survive outside 18  Eva De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism (Sausalito, CA: Post-Apollo Press, 1977), 24. The Persian term Masnavi is sometimes transliterated as Mathnawi or Mathnavi. 19  Ghazal, 205, http://divan-hafez.com/, accessed September 11, 2021. “Hafez” is also sometimes transliterated as “Hafiz.” 20   Jalal al-din Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 4, lines 2285–2286, http://www.masnavi. net/1/50/eng/4/2286/, accessed September 11, 2021.

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water: “We are the fishes, and Thou the sea of life: we live by Thy favor, O Thou whose attributes are excellent.”21

A Quest for Self-Actualization American psychologist Abraham Maslow described each person as having a “hierarchy of needs” whose definitive goal was the peak experience of “self-actualization.” Maslow analyzed that “expression and communication in peak experiences tend to become poetic, mythical, and rhapsodic, as if this were the natural kind of language to express such states of being.”22 Maslow thought that these “peak experiences” of our perceptive life were able to alter our daily experiences by providing a richness that contributes to our “unadulterated perception.”23 A similar idea is voiced in Rumi’s poetry where a person learns to go further in their lives toward moments of insight that lead to a sense of being cherished by the divine presence. In the “peak experiences” of our lives, the Mawlana reported, our physical attention is completely absorbed into a condition where we are free from the self-protective mechanisms of rational judgment, cognitive evaluations, and critical distancing. Instead, Rumi called each person to live as a lover of God who willingly abandons the safeguards of ego-protection and desires to regulate the world toward something that can be safely controlled. Rumi invites us to experience the world as if we can surpass the limits of our ego and even to be independent from ourselves and from others. For Rumi, the only solace for a spiritual pilgrim is found in the company of the divine as we gain the ability to fuse that which is material and concrete with that which is spiritual and abstract.24 Rumi—with vivid, abstract language—describes his euphoric emotions flooding through his soul during peak experiences of union with God in the same way that a drowning person becomes overcome by the ocean’s 21  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, line 1341, http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/eng/3/1341/, accessed September 11, 2021. 22  Abraham Maslow, Toward a Psychology of Being (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1968), 104. 23  Maslow, 78. 24  Bassi M. and A.  Delle Fave, “Peak Experiences vs. Everyday Feelings,” cited in A.  C. Michalos, ed., Encyclopedia of Quality of Life and Well-Being Research (Dordrecht, Germany: Springer, 2014), https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-007-0753-5_2109, accessed September 10, 2021.

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water. Rumi engages oceanic imagery to articulate how he feels in these moments of transformation when his ego surrenders to the presence of God: “The vessel of my being was completely hidden in the sea. The sea broke into waves, and again wisdom rose.”25 The Mawlana struggles to find words to express the feelings cascading through his soul. Rumi tries to convey how the love of God was altering him by crushing his ego and replacing it with an all-inclusive consciousness of divine awareness. In these peak experiences of capitulation to the presence of God, Rumi explains he is feeling a sense of satisfaction that does not reside in the uninspired world of unremarkable connections. The Mawlana exalts: “When a candle becomes entirely the flame, there is no space for any shadow” of something separate—the ego.26 Rumi compares an inner, spiritual state flooded by the presence of God to the status that a pilgrim realizes when they reach the boundaries of the ocean after a long journey. The pilgrim exchanges the exhausting ordinariness of dusty roads for the crisp horizon of wave and foam as they reach their final goal as they stand on the shoreline of an unbounded ocean. For the  Mawlana, the use of poetic imaginings featuring a vast ocean is the best way to express the state of mind he is experiencing: “’Tis the time of favor and largess, tis the ocean of perfect beauty. The billow of largess hath appeared, the thunder of the sea hath arrived. The morning of blessedness hath dawned. Morn? No, tis the light of God.”27 Rumi explains that direct, personal, intimate, peak experiences help us gain an amplified awareness of ourselves and help us better recognize the human condition so we can lead more meaningful lives filled with an appreciation of the veiled dimensions of devotion that most do not perceive. Nurturing spiritual perceptions empowers us to change our pedestrian perceptions of that which is visible to that which is actual in the luminous presence of God. Even life’s ordinary moments can be interrupted by the invasion of the divine “presence” if we accept the obliteration of our ego and exchange a false sense of control for the direction of God’s presence.

25  Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz, edited and translated by Reynold Nicholson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1898) (Rumi, Divan Shams, Ghazal 310), 27. 26  Gamard, 127. 27  Nicholson, (Rumi, Divan Shams, Ghazal 464), 35.

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These “peak experiences” in our spiritual lives are freighted with a high level of intensity and “mystic and transpersonal” qualities which are fertile soil for new perspectives.28 The Mawlana describes such moments in his spiritual evolution, stating: “Every house where sunbeams fall from love. When my heart saw love’s sea, all of a sudden it left me and leaped in, crying, ‘Find me.’”29

Dealing with the Storms of Life Rumi refers to the turbulent tempests of the seas as an allegory for life’s challenges. Vast oceans can often be seen by those who are landlocked as untamed, rugged, and overpowering spaces of uncertainty, feebleness, and physical peril.30 The only safety for our small souls adrift on the thundery seas of life comes when we urgently seek refuge in the “ship” of God’s protection. We should rely on God in the same way a wave-tossed sailor depends on the defense of a sturdy ship amid stormy seas. Rumi expounds: “We knock against each other like little boats. Our eyes are blinded even though we are in clear water. Oh, you who have fallen asleep in the boat of the body—you who have seen the water—now, contemplate the Water of the water.”31 Rumi compares the Qur’anic story of Noah’s Ark with those who seek shelter from the squalls of life. Rumi relates that Noah’s son refused security and instead relied on his own capabilities. Noah warned this egotistical son: “Beware! For these waves are the Flood of tribulation; today hand and foot and swimming are naught…. No candle but God’s is enduring. Be silent!”32 But Noah’s son responds that he will be protected in his mountain fortress. Sadly, the story concludes with Noah’s son being drowned because of his stubborn arrogance. A person “sitting on the shore of the ocean of love” needs saving in the same way that the Prophet 28  Jonathan Vogler, Self-Actualization and Peak Experiences in Outdoor Recreation (2012). https://tigerprints.clemson.edu/all_theses/1485, accessed September 10, 2021. 29  Nicholson, (Rumi, Divan Shams, Ghazal 310), 27. 30  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, lines 1271–1272, http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/ eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021. 31  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, line 1270. http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021. 32  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, lines 1309–1313. http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/ eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021.

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Jonah was delivered from evil. The Prophet Jonah recalled: “In the ocean I was the food of a fish” before ultimately being rescued by the saving power of God.33

The Sea of the Soul Like the German poet Johann von Goethe, Rumi taught that Satan “was the embodiment of pure intellect” which by itself cannot bring us to the renovating presence of divine truth.34 Goethe wrote about the long search that each pilgrim faces in life toward sparks of “sudden vision; a flashing perception where the notion of time is abolished.”35 Rumi reminded pilgrims that “God was not to be known through thinking or reason.”36 The “spiritual voyage” (Persian, soluk) not only needs to “go” to the oceans of God’s awe-inspiring majesty, it must also “become” one with the divine “ocean” within themselves. In Rumi’s use of ocean imagery both life itself and the Creator of our lives are “symbolized as a boundless ocean.”37 Each of us is a pilgrim (Arabic, salik) who must find ways to break “with the world and also with worldly desires.”38 For the soul on a hajj toward a deeper baptism and awareness of the presence of God, this search involves an active effort in the same way that a diver cannot find a precious pearl simply by standing on the shoreline and staring at the sea. The Mawlana taught, “they only live who dare.”39 Each pilgrim must struggle in every circumstance to swim from the visible toward the unseen and from outward symbols toward the truths of that which is being signified. Rumi expounded that what is hidden can be revealed because inside the soul of any wayfarer is an ocean overflowing with the presence of God. One of the Mawlana’s lines of poetry raptures: “Our hearts are nothing but a sea of light: The place of the vision of

 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 416.  Iqbal, Life and Work of Muhammad Jalal-ud-din Rumi, 271. 35  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism, 135. 36  Abd al-Hosayn Zarrinkub, Step-by-Step Up to Union with God: The Life, Thought, and Spiritual Journey of Jalal al-din Rumi, trans. Majdoddin Keyvani (New York: Persian Heritage Foundation, 2009), 326. 37  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 5. 38  Zarrinkub, Step-by-Step Up to Union with God, 300. 39  Iqbal, Life and Work of Muhammad Jalal-ud-din Rumi, 233. 33 34

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God.”40 The love of God is “an infinite ocean whose skies are a bubble of foam.”41 For Rumi, each wave of the ocean of divine presence originates “from the sea of the soul” and breaks over our everyday sense of preoccupation.42 The Mawlana asserted that the task of each pilgrim seeking the presence of God is to cherish the “pearls of that ocean” which offer an “opening to the ocean of his [God’s] heart.”43 Rumi related how his spiritual mentor Shams al-Tabrizi led him toward a fuller sense of immersion into the deep waters of divine presence: The hull of my being was totally hidden in the sea. The sea broke down in waves. Intelligence returned and made its call. That’s how it was and has always been. The sea was covered over with foam and with each fluff of foam something appeared as a form; something appeared as a body. Each fluff of foam looked like a body receiving a signal from that sea and melted immediately and followed the course of the waves. Without the salvation-bearing help of my Lord Shams al-Tabrizi, none can contemplate the moon or become the sea.44

Using paradoxical language—a common device throughout Rumi’s poetry—the Mawlana calls pilgrims to travel toward the divine presence and learn how to swim so that they may ultimately “drown” in a sea of divine grace. We must struggle so we can eventually cease our strivings and surrender to the “drowning” power of God’s nearness. The Mawlana repeats the theme that the total ruin of the ego is the surest way to find “the path” toward a full absorption into the divine presence.45 Life’s journey is enriched when it is lived through the annihilation of the ego—with the ego being replaced by submission to the divine invitation to “Dive into this sea—so that—as a drop of water you can become a sea.”46 Each wayfarer continuously needs to see afresh their own oceanic potential that, 40  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, line 2269. http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021. 41  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 1, line 1785. http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021. 42  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism, 104. 43  Ibrahim Gamard, trans. Rumi and Islam: Selections from His Stories, Poems, and Discourses (Woodstock, VT: Skylight Paths, 2004), 155. 44  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism, 30. 45  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism, 51: citing Marijan Mole, Sacred Dances, 248. 46  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism, 85.

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in the words of the South Asian philosopher Muhammad Iqbal, we are “humanity capable of God.”47 It is stated by some non-Muslims seeking to embrace Rumi’s lofty ideals that the Mawlana transcended the sectarian limits of an institutionalized Islamic religion and—in due course—incorporated no religion other than the universal religion of love. Certainly, for Rumi, categories of people (or labels of religions) are not what is needed to bring us into the ocean of God’s grandeur. When asked with anger by a drunk Christian: “Which is better your religion or mine? The Mawlana  replied coolly, ‘yours!’”48 For Rumi, there was no point in reacting to sectarian fools bound by fanatical assertion because God is beyond any name that we call the divine: In Sufi teaching the image of the sea also denotes the depth of knowledge required in their path towards Allah. Willingly surrendering one’s ego is a “death before death which is safety.”49 As Saadi of Shiraz remonstrates to the cautious and hesitant: “Deep in the sea there are riches beyond your imagination but if you seek safety, that is at the shore.’”50

Oceans of Love For Rumi, God’s definitive reality is “explained” by relying on images of the vastness of the oceans. Ocean imagery conveys “a continuum of paradoxes between life and death, provision and ungratefulness, destruction and reconstruction.”51 The presence of God in the world is a swirling power. Rumi observes: “Love makes the seas boil like in a kettle.”52 The ocean of God’s Love is unknowable. It is “an ocean filled with dangerous beasts, alligators, and whales that threatens the loving soul. God’s majesty and power as well as the Divine beauty are revealed in this ocean.”53 The task of the pilgrim is straightforward: To keep swimming forward toward the truths of God. There is profound spiritual enchantment to be found throughout the world: “Every moment fills the world with the  De Vitray-Meyerovitch, Rumi and Sufism¸ 87.  Zarrinkub, Step-by-Step Up to Union with God, 337. 49  Gamard, 127. 50  John Andrew Morrow, ed. Islamic Images and Ideas: Essays on Sacred Symbolism (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2014), 134. 51  Morrow, Islamic Images, and Ideas, 136. 52  Iqbal, Life and Work of Muhammad Jalal-ud-din Rumi, 245. 53  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 284. 47 48

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fragrance of the breaths of life” as we move toward “transcendental horizons—step by step towards union with God.”54 Because of this fact about ourselves, even when there seems no way forward in life there is always a path to be found that leads us to the “sea” of union with God. What is our goal in life? Sufism offers “the science and art of curing the ailments of the soul.”55 Apart from God’s transformative presence, each pilgrim’s heart expresses individual fragments of brokenness which are isolated threads that need to be woven together to become united. Like other Sufi sages, Rumi taught that “the knowledge of the truth is ultimately not a theoretical understanding of concepts” but a lived experience of truth that we embody throughout our lives. Rumi writes that the purpose of God’s spirit within us is to “encompass the heart to rid it of material desires so that it can bear God’s secrets.”56 Pilgrims searching for an intimate communion with divine revelation are seen “as single drops of water” that can ultimately “become a sea.”57 Our communities of faith are shared expanses that can aid us in this spiritual quest: The Mawlana writes: “We are the night ocean filled with glints of light. We are the space between the fish and the moon, while we sit here together.”58 The overwhelming revelation of the Holy Qur’an states that most of our lives as pilgrims are like a vast ocean that remains unexplored and unknown (Q, 18:109). Often, we do not even understand ourselves, and the restless longings of our hearts make us feel that we are “perhaps a wave of the ocean which drowns the outward being.”59 The Holy Qur’an often portrays the ocean as a place of uncertain darkness filled with risks (e.g., Q. 6:63–64; 6:97; 24:39–40). Sometimes, according to Rumi, we feel adrift “in a fathomless ocean of bewilderment.”60 Even then, a mature pilgrim is one who is content with uncertainty and is not looking for some final sense of absolute freedom from doubt. We are  Zarrinkub, Step-by-Step Up to Union with God, 382.  Seyyed Hossein Nasr, The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2007), 92. 56  Mojdeh Bayat and Mohammad Ali Jamnia, Tales from the Land of the Sufis (Boston: Shambala, 1994), 34. 135. 57  Andrew Harvey, ed., Teachings of Rumi (Boston: Shambala, 1999), 166. 58  Coleman Barks with John Moyne, trans., The Essential Rumi (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1996), 260. 59  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 394. 60  Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 143. 54 55

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truly wanderers on a journey without a map. We are never promised a final resting place in an ocean of swirling doubts and uncertainties and shifting currents of unanswered questions. The French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan is correct that questioning is the language of creativity and that creative souls are questioners who “render the answers” provided by others “incomplete or inconsistent.”61 Even in the indefinite oceans of life, the Mawlana advised that we will be able to find a path forward through billowing waves and, as Rumi reassures, we can always “look for answers in the same place that we found the questions.”62

61  Patricia Gherovici, Where Have the Hysterics Gone? Lacan’s Reinvention of Hysteria, 63, ojsadmin,+Journal+manager,+ESC+40.1+Gherovici.pdf accessed September 20, 2021. 62  Rumi, Mathnawi, Book 3, line 1120. http://www.masnavi.net/1/50/eng/3/1223/, accessed September 11, 2021.

CHAPTER 6

Benedictine Evangelicalism: Human Flourishing, Peacemaking, and Protestant Pedagogy Today Jason Okrzynski

The topic of mystical coexistence is one in need of attention by practical theologians of the Protestant traditions. In this chapter I wish to propose a novel approach to reforming and reclaiming Protestant faith and religious practice from its mystical founding: Benedictine Evangelicalism. My description will first draw upon the work of Miraslov Volf. The bulk of the paper will examine the necessary aspects of this theory from two foundational figures, Dr Martin Luther and St Benedict of Nursia.

J. Okrzynski (*) Glenview, IL, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_6

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Miraslov Volf on Religion Miraslov Volf’s work on the essential role of religion in secular and pluralized democracy will help me frame my terms.1 Volf is a Protestant thinker who is helpful in bringing mainline Protestant theology into the conversation of our conference on peaceful coexistence and the mystical traditions. His theological perspective was formed growing up a Protestant (evangelical) Christian in war-torn, communist Yugoslavia. His family sought to live a peaceable Christian witness amid the factionally divided and war-­ torn country. From his unique theological perspective, Volf insists that peaceful coexistence in a pluralized and globalized world requires answering two questions, questions which religion and theology are uniquely situated to answer. The first question is “What kind of selves do we need to be in order to live in harmony?”2 The second, which Volf describes as “the most important question of our lives,” is “How do we succeed at the task of being human?”3 I wish to propose that Dr Martin Luther and St Benedict of Nursia offered similar answers to these questions. Thus, with Volf’s framing question in mind I now turn to them to flesh out the picture of Benedictine Evangelicalism.

Luther and the Ladder of Descent If Protestant Christianity is to engage with St Benedict and Dr Luther to recover its mystical life in our modern world, then we must define what this looks like. It is Ernst Troeltsch who offers the standard definition of mysticism, namely, religion having to do with the quest for inner experience. In practice this definition inherently trivializes mysticism as a flight from reality, essentially emptying the world of divinity itself. However, neither faithful Protestant practice nor theology need make this same mistake.

1  Miraslov Volf, Flourishing: Why we Need Religion in a Globalized World (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015); Miraslov Volf, Exclusion and Embrace (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996) 29. 2  Miraslov Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 29. 3  Miraslov Volf, Flourishing: Why we Need Religion in a Globalized World; also: Miraslov Volf, “Why We Need Religion In A Globalized World,” TED, June 21, 2016; YouTube, 0:46, https://youtu.be/3gsavyx6s5k.

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Recovering a richer theology of immanence and mysticism for Protestant faith will find no better starting point than the work of Lutheran theologian Christine Helmer. Her work Theology and the End of Doctrine4 traces the twenty-first-century historiography that led to the emaciated Protestant definition of mysticism many claim today. Her account has a particular beginning with Albert Ritschl in the 1800s, who sought to “complete the (Lutheran) doctrine of justification.” Ritschl’s modern project imposed Kantian categories onto justification nature and spirit, and could help unite these two definitions. Nature on the one hand has to do with “the natural sciences; those things that cause effects.” Spirit on the other concerns the mind and inner world of human beings. As successive generations picked up Ritschl’s project, the divide between spirit and nature was further pulled apart, resulting in the loss of the connection between the biblical witness (evangelical Christianity) and the natural experience of divinity in the world (mystical Christianity). It is here that our question begins with Martin Luther, whose (pre-modern) fifteenth-century (Evangelical) Reformation hinged precisely on the deep connection between these realities.

Martin’s Medieval Mystagogy and the Mundane The story of Martin Luther5 is the stuff of myth, literally. Like all true myths, its narratives are not fantasy and fiction. Myths are stories constructed by cultures to communicate that which is true over and again. Luther’s story is a creative mix of historical and biographical facts and pointed fictions that serves to communicate the deep and transcendent truths that are revealed in these realities.6 As the story goes, Luther was a young peasant growing up in medieval Europe. His father struggled and saved through the plagues and hard labor of the age in the hopes of sending his son to become a lawyer, one of the rare possible paths of upward mobility in the hierarchies of the 4  Christine Helmer, Theology and the End of Doctrine (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014): 23–58. 5  For a contemporaneous account of Luther’s biography see Scott H.  Hendrix, Martin Luther: Visionary Reformer (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2015); or Lyndal Rouper, Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet (New York: Random House, 2017). 6  Christine Helmer, How Luther Became the Reformer (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2019): 39; and Risto Saarinen, “Luther the Urban Legend,” in Christine Helmer, The Global Luther (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009) 13–31.

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scholastically imagined orders of creation that honored kings and popes as somehow higher in their being than the lowly peasants who were meant to serve others. As fate would have it, Luther was forced repeatedly to confront the terrors of his finitude. He was sickly as a child. He reported that his parents used harsh discipline, his mother once beating him to the point of drawing blood. Luther particularly stressed the terror of a hunting accident in his teen years. Cutting his own leg, Luther reports that he came very close to dying. This developmental and cultural biography informs the most famous parts of Luther’s mythic biography as a Protestant reformer. Shortly after beginning law school, he found himself caught in a violent thunderstorm. Fearing for his life, Luther called out to St Anne, promising that if she saved him, he would become a monk. The storm swiftly subsided and to his father’s great chagrin Luther left the study of law and took his vows as an Augustinian brother in Erfurt, Germany. Upon arrival at the monastery, the terrors of medieval Christendom did not abate for Luther, whose God seemed angry and relentlessly demanding. Plagued by the religious demands of his society, Luther worked day and night to out-pray, out-clean, and out-prostrate his brothers. He reports relentlessly doing his duties and then whipping himself, and at one point lying on the floor in a cruciform position all night. All of this was undertaken to earn salvation from God. One morning, however, as the myth would have it, while defecating in an upper chamber, Luther was visited by God. What Luther came to see, in this most vulnerable and carnal of moments, was that God was not angry, but above all gracious. Here arose Luther’s foundational insight that salvation came sola gratia, by grace alone. In relation to creatures, God wants one thing, and one thing only: to give good gifts. As such, faith and religion come about as freedom from “sin, death, and the devil” and freedom for love, life, and God. The entire life of work, worship, and play is to be received as a gift. In fact, in the creation, the incarnation, and even the church itself the Triune God is giving God’s own self as a gift of love to the world. The creation of the cosmos is for the purpose of being the recipient of the good gifts God desires to give. Here, the myth itself fails us. As it is famously celebrated in Protestant churches every year, Luther is imagined to have marched right from the toilet to the Wittenberg church door to post his 95 Theses. These theses are thus narrated as the Reformation shot heard round the world. In this

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mythic telling, Luther, the modern individual, speaks a singular truth on behalf of Protestants over and against the religious oppressions of the pope by one singular and defiant act of medieval social media wokeness and protest. The surprising truth is that there is no archeological evidence that Luther ever posted the 95 Theses on the door. Luther himself, who never held back from sharing his own glories, never even spoke of the event. For our purposes, however, history may prove to be more helpful to us. Luther, professor of theology and doctor of Old Testament studies, began to develop an alternative theology of grace and faith in his lectures on Galatians as early as 1512, five years before the writing of the 95 Theses. It was the critique he formulated there that would ground the entirety of the 95 Theses, which disrupted the papal hold over Europe and formally triggered the Protestant Reformation. Luther’s academic work exposed the need for reform of the church’s shortcomings in an age when the church had drifted away from its own proper vocation. In fact, the 95 Theses were written in the common literary style for academic disputation, a typical pedagogical tool in medieval higher learning. The 95 Theses were not an impulsive protest but an act of faithful, learned, and academic reform of the system Kevin Madigan describes as follows: By the eleventh century, the uncomplicated division of the monastic day was drastically altered in order that the monks might offer their lives to satisfying the social and religious needs of the political, social, and economic—and of course spiritual—environment around which a cloister had been planted. No other service was more treasured than the monk’s capacity to pray for society. Monks were imagined by those who founded and supported them as a kind of spiritual militia; they fought against society’s spiritual enemies, especially the archenemy Satan and his minions. Above all, donors of land and buildings expected that monks would satisfy for the sins they had committed against God by their prayers. Punishing penances could be satisfied not by the sinner but by the surrogate, the monk; he performed by his liturgical prayers the penances accumulated by lay sinner. Here the issue, religiously speaking, is that satisfaction was owed to God, who had been dishonored by sin. It did not matter who made that satisfaction; what

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­ attered was that it was made, and God’s honor restored (just as a bank m does not care who pay a debt owed to it so long as it is repaid with interest).7

The 95 Theses were a spiritual analogue to the Ladder of Descent, describing the Christian life as a life of repentance. Luther offers this life of repentance in contrast to the established Roman scholastic church, which he understood demanded good works in order to climb up the ladder of religiosity.8 With this climb, the church’s institutions had come to hold high and lofty places in the world and thus religious works also brought about comfort, security, and power. In contrast, the God of the Bible was the God of descent. In Christ God descended from the lofty heavenly places to the manger and to the cross. In fact, rather than post them on the church door, Luther sent his theses to his Archbishop, Albert of Mainz. This was precisely the appropriate action of a professor and doctor of the church who wished to enact reforms. What Luther did not know was that Albert was on the take. His own seat of power, his bishopric, had indeed been purchased by a loan from the Fugger banking family. Albert’s efforts to pay the money back were dependent on the profits he was making by the sales of indulgences in his see, the exact practice that Luther’s theses attacked for being opposed to the right care and practice of liberating faith. The rest of Luther’s myth remains more relevant than ever in this light. Albert of Mainz swiftly sent the 95 Theses to others, and they eventually earned the ire and condemnation of Pope Leo, who himself was generating wealth from indulgences to pay back the Fugger and Medici families, all the while increasing his own lavish and indulgently hypocritical lifestyle. In fact, from Luther’s standpoint the entire clerical system was living a life of privilege and comfort on the backs of the poor peasants, from the stock which included Luther’s own family. The loss of the proper mystical understanding of justification distorts our understanding of the Protestant Reformation at its very core. Luther was, in large part, himself a mystic, and his reformational goal was not a new church but a renewal of the Catholic faith. He sought these critical renewals from the authoritative scripture alone. For Luther, the medieval monk, evangelical reform and mystical faith would have held no apparent 7  Kevin Madigan, Medieval Christianity (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2015): 53. 8  LW 31:25.

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contradictions. In fact, God’s care of human creatures was mystical for Luther; in other words it was meant to be direct. Satisfaction of God and God’s honor was due from all sinners and was paid in full through participation in faith. The currency was the hearts and lives of normal people in the mundane world that honored and trusted the One God who descends to us in love. For the purposes of Benedictine Evangelism it is this “historical Luther,” simultaneously a mystical-monastic and a critical-­ evangelical, whom we will have to reclaim from the Neo-Kantians. The renowned twentieth-century theologian Tuomo Mannermaa clears the hermeneutical path to the mystical Luther. His seminal work, Christ Present in Faith,9 reclaims and stresses “participation,” as opposed to “epistemology,” as the proper hermeneutical ground for Luther’s theology and as the very heart of the grounding doctrine of justification by faith. In fact, here, faith is nothing less than the mystical participation in the divine life of grace. Mannermaa’s works convincingly demonstrate that in Luther’s usage, “faith,” which alone saves human creatures, implies the real and immanent presence of Christ experienced by the believer. The Christian life of faith is participation in divinity itself, through the gift of the incarnate and (mystically) present Christ. In faith, the believer and Christ literally become unio personalis, one undivided person. That is, Christ mystically takes up a real and present substance in human materiality; in faith, according to Luther, one “becomes God.”10 Here the end of Christian faith is itself an incarnation enactment, a participation in the Divine life in the mundane world. The metaphor Luther offers in his sermon for this vision is the same as that we will find in St Benedict, the downward ladder: And so, we are filled with all the fullness of God. This phrase which follows the Hebrew manner of speaking means that we are filled in all the ways in which he fills a (person). We are filled with God, and He pours into us all His gifts and grace and fills us with His Light. His life lives in us, His beatitude makes us blessed, and His love causes love to arise in us. Put briefly, He fills us in order that everything he is and everything He can do might be in us in all its fullness, and work powerfully, so that we might be divinized throughout— not having only a small part of God, or merely some parts of Him, but having His fullness. Much has been written on the divinization of man, and 9  Tuomo Mannermaa, Christ Present in Faith: Luther’s View of Justification (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005). 10  Ibid., 42.

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ladders have been constructed by means of which to ascend to heaven, and many other things of this kind have been done. However, all these are merely works of a beggar. What must be done instead to show the right and straight way to your being filled with God, so that those do not lack any part but have it all gathered together and so that all you say, all you think and everywhere you go, in sum all your life—is throughout divine.11

This powerful image from Luther’s preaching, of the ladder of descent, is also a helpful segue to reclaiming evangelical faith from the insight of its originator’s own work. In contrast to the public image of “evangelicals” in the modern West, particularly America and England, scripture for Luther did not imagine Christianity as a subversive anti-modern source of revelated truth. The Christian is not the individual or group defined by their alignment to a particular religious institution. Rather, the person moved to trust and fealty before God through participation or reception of mystically present Christ is what rightly makes someone a Christian. This participation is marked by active descent down the ladder of agapeic self-emptying for the sake of God’s creation. Moreover, the church is here defined as the ministry of word and sacrament, which is the realm in which this reality is offered.12 Luther’s kerygmatic liturgy is the mystical administration of the present Christ to the people through the preaching of the word and the right administration of the sacrament. The formal work of God through the word was Gospel. When Christians experienced the present Christ as resurrection, liberation, and renewal of their spirit they were experiencing Gospel. On the other hand, when they experienced Christ as revealing the remaining presence of the old Adam, or bringing to death the ways that the world, the devil, or their own sinful selves have bound them in the “old Adam,” they were experiencing law.13 Of particular import in the modern West is that Luther’s vision resists the fundamentalisms, nationalism, and anti-rational extremisms that seem to have become commonplace amongst so-called evangelicals in the West. Luther’s stress on mystical participation as the true ground of faith extends to scriptural authority. The Bible’s proper role as such excludes any theology that would construct its claims in epistemological opposition to earthly reality.  Ibid., 45.  LW 36: 11–41. 13  LW 36: 360–371. 11 12

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The mystical Luther was not gnostic. The present Christ was present in real bodies, and Christian descent always involved loving the real neighbor, with carnal needs, in a fallen and complicated world. Thus, the mystical call to participation in Christian life requires a partner to make sense of the changing world. For Luther this servant is none other than reason. For Luther, philosophy and reason were nothing more than the exercising of human reason to make sense of the world through the gathering of empirical information. Reason is nothing less than a divine gift, the defining mark of human ontology, and “the inventor and mentor of all the arts, medicines, laws, and of whatever wisdom, power, virtue, and glory, (humans) possess in (earthly life).” However, human reason is not sufficient for mystical enlightenment. Reason by nature relies on the senses to gather empirical facts about earthly reality. Thus, reason’s knowledge and authority are limited to boundaries of sensible and empirical observation. Temporal justice falls short of the glory of God for two reasons. First, because questions about God and the divine destiny were hidden with Christ who rules this world in noetic darkness. Thus, theological inquiry into the divine and eternal calling and purpose of created life could never transcend earthly knowing but could only speculate from below. Second, human creatures themselves were created not divine. As such, outside of the gift of union with Christ, Christians are bound by their creatureliness and their bodily needs. Luther’s critique of the reliability of reason creates a relevant and practical philosophy relevant to interreligious cooperation and peaceful coexistence in the modern and global world. Moreover, he offers Protestants a rich store of theological, mystagogical, and liturgical theory and practice from which to engage and participate in these realities. As a gift from God, human reason is never in competition with the Bible for mystical or divine transcendence. Rather, earthly (temporal) power always relies on sensible reason to create prudent kingdoms, intuitions, economies, and vocations.14 As such, Luther famously resisted radicality in his political and social reforms. Nor was Christian salvation to ever be expected in the public, civil, or political institutions of the world. Rather, participation in descent meant participation in the divine life of self-emptying, for the sake of a suffering and needful world. This always implies a repenting of what modern thinkers would refer to as ego-demands of satisfaction. Mystical participation in Christ frees humans from bondage to earthly powers and  LW 44:115–217.

14

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promises, including the power of civil law and external rulers. For Luther, mystical participation in Christ in God effects a liberating ontological shift that makes the human creature a ruler and king, freed from all debts and sins and in obligation to no earthly powers, rulers, or institutions.15 Luther’s evangelical Christianity thus must redefine the word “vocation” for its purposes. Here vocation refers to the call of the Christian to participate in God’s life in and for the real world, never over and against it. Christian vocation is the universal call of every creature to trust God and participate in the order of Creation.16 God builds God’s kingdom in the world directly through the faith of the ordinary believer, made active in quotidian daily life. In fact, Luther’s evangelical definition of the church is simply the work of ministering the practice by which God in Christ takes up mystical presence among God’s children and by extension gets loose in the world through human participation in the estates of family, work, and politics. Through quotidian human action in the world, Christ is present as the hands, feet, minds, and mouths of the people of God. Eventually Luther would accept that reform was impossible and that a further schism was the only option. He used the word “evangelical” to describe those churches which relied directly on God and God’s word rather than on the Roman church in relationship to God. To this effect, in 1523 Luther offered reforms of the practice of worship for evangelical churches.17 In a practice that seems to draw on the image of the Benedictine community, Luther proposed short, daily services at the heart of the medieval peasant’s day for them to participate together in the mystical hearing of God’s Word: “In brief, let everything be complete in one hour or whatever time seems desirable; for one must not overload our weary souls, as was the case until now in monasteries and converts, where they burdened them like mules.”18 Contemporary Protestants, seeking to understand their faith in the context of mystical peaceful coexistence, can claim Luther’s vision of (mystical) faith descending in love to serve the neighbor and the creation through their work and activity. Of particular importance to modern Protestants in a global world is Luther’s understanding of reason and of

 LW 31:343–377.  LW 44:251–396. 17  LW 53:9–14. 18  LW 53:12. 15 16

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the earthly kingdom.19 However, Luther’s system comes up short in some of the most essential places. Luther had a famously cranky and impatient temperament. From our modern perspective his temperament was not helped by the fact that his calling was to reform the church, the very source of God. As such, Luther railed with hateful and excluding vitriol against his opponents, in particular papists, Jews, and Turks.20 This is where I wish to offer a complementary vision of the life of mystical descent in Christ in the Rule of St Benedict.

The Rule of St Benedict What then does Benedict offer the evangelical system? Luther’s evangelical reforms are his constructive response to a corrupt church. In Luther’s mind, the church was corrupted by its disordered dependence on human reason rather than mystical participation, resulting in entanglement in earthly affairs rather than mystical descent. Luther thus struggled to imagine that God’s activity could be in any way abstracted from the immediacy of the mystical. Luther could endlessly defend the integrity of those descending into earthly service of the kingdom of heaven, even if it meant that the rest of the world had to burn. I propose that St Benedict and his famous Rule represent a correcting complement to this vision. For Benedict, who lived in a world that was already on fire, the person enlightened by mystical union could faithfully serve the world (and Christ) by practicing an alternative way of life by compiling21 intentional habits that patterned a life of participatory descent in Christ. From the desert fathers, the monastic life spread organically in the fourth century.22 In the wake of Constantine’s legalization of Christianity, the established congregations in the cities of the Roman Empire were flooded with converts. So rapid and numerous were these converts that it quickly became impossible to properly catechize these novices in the faith. The result was that rather than transforming the lives of the newly baptized into the culture of the church of Christ, the church was transformed

 LW 34:137–144.  For example, see LW 41:121. 21  Madigan (2015): 52. 22  Justo Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity (New York: Harper Collins, 2012) 158–172. 19 20

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by the culture through the lives of the newly baptized. The first desert fathers headed into the desert in response to this retrograde shift. Through the efforts of leaders such as Pachomius and John Cassian, the monks of the desert grew into organized communities sharing distinct patterns of life. In the East, St Basil in particular saw the need for this witness to the way of descent in urban areas, and founded a monastery just outside his city of Caesarea. Eventually the influence of various monastic rules, like the two scribed by Basil and Ordo Monasterii, which found influence in St Augustine of Hippo’s Rule, would find its way into Europe and into the life of St Benedict.23 St Benedict was born in the late fifth century. The world of his childhood was plagued by constant violence and civil unrest. Benedict’s own cenobitic life began when he fled to a cave after becoming disillusioned with the catechetical impotence of the church in his hometown of Nursia. Eventually, Benedict would establish a monastic community in Monte Cassino, where he would compile his Rule from various works, in particular The Rule of the Master. Were it not for the unrest of his day the world may never have known his masterpiece. After his community of Monte Cassino was subjected to violence, Benedict was forced to flee to Rome, and brought his Rule with him. It was there that Gregory the Great, Benedict’s great evangelist, encountered, practiced, and came to trust the Rule of Benedict. Gregory deserves credit for the Rule’s spread, influence, and practical development throughout the Western Church and Europe.24 Like Benedict, Gregory confronted a world torn apart by violence and corruption. The institutions of the day were rapidly decaying and increasingly vulnerable to the extortion of corrupt and utterly un-Christian forces. Society itself was divided and plagued by insecurity as the masses looked for care and guidance. Amid all this, the world was haunted and burdened simultaneously by a global pandemic and impending ecological disaster. Around 540, the likely year of Gregory’s birth, the Plague of Justinian overtook the East and most of Europe, killing millions, while two seismic volcanic eruptions devasted the ecology of much of Northern and Western Europe, leaving 23  For an exhaustive examination of the origins, trends, and transitions of various rules over time and place in relation to Benedict’s Rule see Robert Taft, The Liturgy of the Hours in East and West: The Origins of the Divine Office and its Meaning for Today (Collegeville, Minnesota; St. John Liturgical Press, 1993). 24  Madigan (2015), 55–68.

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the skies apocalyptically dark and environmentally unstable throughout his lifetime. Upon his reluctant election to the Roman See, Gregory’s own vocational vision reflected the deep vision of Benedict’s Rule. Gregory devoted much time to the practical, establishing distributions of food and medicine to the poor, building up clean waterways, and protecting shipping ports in Rome to secure the lives of the citizens. This leadership was always in step with the influence of the Benedictine Rule. The first seven chapters of the Benedictine Rule contain the essential wisdom and vision that ground and enrich the entirety of the work.25 Chapter seven describes the mystical ladder of descent to which the life it prescribes is devoted. There are 12 steps or rungs down the ladder of descent. Each of these rungs draws the subject further away from what Thomas Merton more recently referred to as the “false self”26 of the egoic persona, the subject created for the sake of success in the world. As one descends, one grows closer to Christ where the true self is hidden. In this decent to Christian humility, there is a gradual erosion of the false self and the subject’s awareness of the presence of God and of neighbor. As the false love of self decreases, so love of God, neighbor, and world increases. Benedict is persistent is this vision throughout the Rule. The prologue avers the theme of the real and constant presence of God. Amid the frenzied and chaotic world in which it was penned, it is noteworthy that the Rule begins with a simple instruction: “listen.” This is the overarching vision to which we are invited amid the overwhelmingly loud and omnipresent din of culture’s narratives, to find a time and place where we can listen and hear the call of the voice of Christ, and even more so have the good of that voice made “perfect” in our lives. Joan Chittister here finds the primary and essential gift of the Rule for the temperate redemption of evangelical faith, namely that spirituality and spiritual growth occur intentionally: If we want to have a spiritual life, we will have to concentrate on doing so … The Rule calls to those moved by the spirit and invites them to live the life of faith, deeply and intentionally in an imperfect world and its culture, which often proves to be inhospitable to gospel spirituality. One part of spirituality, 25  St. Benedict’s Rule for Monasteries, trans. Leonard J. Doyle (Collegeville, MN: St John Abbey Liturgical Press, 1948). 26  Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions Publishing, 2007), 21.

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then, is learning to be aware of what is going on around us and to feel its effects. If we live in an environment of corporate greed and personal violence, we can’t grow from it until we allow ourselves to recognize it.27

Benedictine engagement with the mystical ladder of descent (in Christ) is marked by a simplicity and practicality that makes the ordered and intentional spiritual life of mystical descent seem more amenable to being lived out amid the very real and ongoing influence of the imperfect world. The Rule resists the intemperate extremes of Luther’s apocalyptic mysticism, while still retaining a serious focus on the scriptural voice. The interceding chapters, one through six, offer similar depth to the lived practice of the spiritual life of descent, though at times the wisdom is a bit more buried. Chapters two and three are ostensibly about leadership. But chapter two understands the abbot or prior to be a gift to the other monks, to be Christ to them and shepherd them through the challenging ambiguities of the world. Chapters two and three posit a subtly subversive power structure at the very core of the monastery. The heart of descent is the willing subjection of the faithful, those who want to listen for the voice of God. As such, the monastery is to be similarly governed, not by the strong arm or loud voice of the abbot but by the cooperation and free servitude of the governed. The power structures of the monastery are horizontal and equitable; in this way the monastery itself is in living witness, an incarnation of the God of loving descent. Chapter four, “Tools for Good Works,” is an objective list of the formative end and outcomes of the Rule’s project. Every command, statute, teaching, and proscribed virtue and act of charity is objectively listed as a tool for doing good works. Chapters five and six add to this section the requirements of obedience and silence in life. These first seven chapters paint as objective a description of the subjective outcomes of the Christian life of mystical descent as one can imagine. One finds a thoroughly compiled vision of the scope and sequence of the mystical life accompanied by a thick description of its theory, practice, and intended outcomes. Beginning with chapter eight on “The Divine Office at Night,” onward through 72, the rule is essentially an exhaustively practical instruction manual for the ordering of life in a monastic community. However, the final rule, number 73, directs the reader back to the first seven chapters, 27  Joan Chittister, The Rule of St. Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century (New York: Cross Road Publishing, 2010), 4.

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decrying that it is only laying down a starting point, a general outline, that in truth a wider ongoing journey is necessary if one is to live the “perfect” monastic life and follow Christ unto the ends of the Earth. The Rule’s understanding of power and reform resists the separation of monastic rule from the true authority of God and of mystical enlightenment. The Rule proposes a reasonable pattern and practice of life rooted in the logic of mystical descent. To this end, even the most ordered and practical aspects of the Rule seek intentional mystical union. The essential rhythm of the day is scheduled around the praying and hearing of God’s word. The work of brothers is confined to cooperative care of the word and lived mostly in contemplative silence. Benedict’s rule offers evangelicals a grounded and practical way to live a life devoted to faith in Christ yet lived in peaceful and cooperative coexistence with neighbors of all philosophies and beliefs, without abandoning the critical prophetic commitment to mystical descent in Christ.

Conclusion Peaceful coexistence for mystical traditions is not synonymous with peacemaking in general. The modern, globalized world, as formed by the Enlightenment, offers its own Godless vision of peaceful coexistence by submission to the free market. Increasingly, capitalism’s “cultural liturgies”28 demand ascent to power, security, and individualism by participation in commodity consumption. The cost of participation is further catechization in overly materialistic ontologies. The growing influence of these liturgies through mobile technologies and “surveillance capitalism”29 catechizes us further into ontologies of consumption and racial inequity to the detriment of our humanity. Thus, in summary, we return to Volf’s concerns and questions: How do we succeed in being human and what kind of selves do we need to be to coexist? Benedictine evangelicalism offers the conviction that we succeed as human beings when we participate in the life of God. This life takes on 28  James K.A. Smith, Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2009). 29  Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Father at the New Frontier of Power (New York: Public Affairs, 2020); also see Nicholas Carr, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains (London: Norton & Company, 2020).

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a pattern of mystical descent in Christ. This mystical descent acts through the preached and prayed word to open our hearts and minds to the reality of God in our presence, while simultaneously growing the critical individuation our conscious minds make from the established institutions of the earthly kingdoms. In general, this image of flourishing also informs the answer to what kind of people we need to be to peacefully coexist. Benedictine evangelical practice as such submits the faithful to the care and influence of the mystically present Christ. In Christ, the practitioner grows in union with the creating, sustaining, and redeeming God of all creation and all traditions. As such, the Christian life is sustained daily by mystical participation in divine presence. This practice is rooted in the immanent Spirit and made practical in the hearing and praying of scripture. The heart of evangelical Christianity as defined by Luther is mystical catechesis in an imperfect world. For Luther, the primary effect of the postlapsarian fall is the loss of the imago dei, which is a faulty engagement with the world and the purposes of human life. Luther grounds this project with an uncompromising stress on the transformative and life-giving reality of faith. He offers little, however, in the way of a sustained and intentional system of catechesis over and against the peacemaking hegemonic of advanced global capitalism. Benedict offers a practical and encompassing vision of the life of faith held in a catechetical lifestyle of resistance to the fallen influences of cultural narratives. Together, the two share a vision of the goodness of creation and invite human creatures to repent of anthropocentric arrogance and to grow in the affirming gift of creatureliness. Here the gift of reason and religion is liberated from the weight of duty and freed for creativity and life in God. The fiery and apocalyptic mystic Luther calls all human action to submission to the peaceable Christ. This is an essential contribution as it can claim and sustain meaning in the face of conspicuous capitalism and the political and ecological threats of our day. This stress in Luther, however, can also leave the world and its institutions to burn. Benedict’s vision is equally rooted in a mystagogy of the incarnate Christ. However, the practical worldliness of Benedict’s soteriology opens more easily to the real work of creative and critical reconstruction across all faiths and philosophies. Thus the Protestant Christian is free for peaceful participation through the pattern of mystical descents made active in love and service for the ongoing formation of a good and trustworthy world.

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Bibliography Bass, Dorothy C. and Dykstra, Craig. For Life Abundant: Practical Theology, Theological Education, and Christian Ministry. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2008. Braaten, Carl E. and Jenson, Robert W. Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B.  Eerdmans Publishing, 1998. Carr, Nicholas. The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains. London: Norton & Company, 2020. Chittister, Joan. The Rule of St. Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century. New York: Cross Road Publishing, 2010. Gonzalez, Justo. The Story of Christianity. New York: Harper Collins, 2012. Helmer, Christine. The Global Luther: A Theologian for Modern Times. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009. ———. How Luther Became the Reformer. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2019. ———. Theology and The End of Doctrine. Louisville, KY, 2014. Hendrix, Scott H. Martin Luther: Visionary Reformer. New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2015. B. Luther, Martin. Luther’s Works. Edited by Jaroslav Pelikan, Helmut T. Lehmann, and Christopher Boyd Brown. Philadelphia: Fortress Press; St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1955–1986. Madigan, Kevin. Medieval Christianity. New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2015. Mannermaa, Tuomo. Christ Present in Faith: Luther’s View of Justification. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005. Mannermaa, Tuomo. Two Kinds of Love. Translated by Kirsi I. Stjerna. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2010. Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. New  York: New Directions Publishing, 2007. Olkham, Dennis. Monk Habits For Everyday People: Benedictine Spirituality for Protestants. Grand Rapids, Brazos Publishing, 2007. Robinson, David. The Family Cloister: Benedictine Wisdom for the Home. New York: Crossroads Publishing, 2000. Rouper, Lyndal. Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet. New  York: Random House, 2017. Taft, Robert. The Liturgy of the Hours in East and West: The Origins of the Divine Office and its Meaning for Today. Collegeville, Minnesota; St. John Liturgical Press, 1993.

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Tvedten, Brother Bennet. How to Be a Monastic and Not Leave Your Day Job: An Invitation to Oblate Life: A Voice from the Monastery. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2006. St. Benedict’s Rule for Monasteries. Translated by Leonard J. Doyle. Collegeville, MN: St John Abbey Liturgical Press, 1948. Smith, James K.A. Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview and Cultural Formation. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic: 2009. Valente, Judith. How to Live: What the Rule of St. Benedict Teaches Us About Happiness, Meaning, and Community. Newburyport, MA: Hampton Roads Publishing Company, 2018. Volf, Miroslav. Flourishing: Why we Need Religion in a Globalized World, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. ———. Exclusion and Embrace. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996. ———. Public Faith. Grand Rapids: Brazos Publishing, 2006. ———. Why We Need Religion In A Globalized World. TED June 21, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gsavyx6s5k. Volf, Miroslav and Croasmun, Matthew. For the Life of the World: Theology That Makes a Difference. Grand Rapids, Brazos Publishing 2019). Williams, Rowan. The Way of St Benedict. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2020. Zuboff, Shoshana. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2020.

CHAPTER 7

The Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi Order Approach to Peaceful Coexistence Through Mawlana Sheikh Nazim Al-Haqqani’s Words and Actions Abdoul Aziz Gaye

This work studies the peaceful coexistence within and among religions in the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi order, one of several branches of the Naqshbandiyya Ṭ ariqa. Naqshbandiyya is one of the schools of Islamic spirituality originating from the earliest days of Islam. This Sufi order has historically played an important role in the life of Muslims in Central Asia, India, China, Russia, and more recently Europe and North America. The Naqshbandi-Haqqani is a branch of the Naqshbandiyya Muğaddi­ diyya Ḫālidiyya.1 The Haqqaniyya order is named after Mawlana Sheikh 1  Annabelle Bottcher, “The Naqshbadiyya in the United States,” in Classical Islam and the Naqshbandi Sufi Tradition (Fenton, Michigan: Islamic Supreme Council of America, 2004), 521.

A. A. Gaye (*) Nazareth College, Rochester, NY, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_7

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Muhammad Nazim Al-Haqqani (1922–2014), who was a sheikh of his Naqshbandi branch, the fortieth in a chain going back to the Prophet Muhammad. Sheikh Muhammad Nazim al-Haqqani, known in the West as Sheikh Nazim, was a Turkish Cypriot who spent several years in Lebanon and Damascus, where he met and lived with his master Sheikh Abdullah Daguestāni. Sheikh Nazim traveled within Europe in the 1970s, and to the United States in the 1990s, where he has many followers. The Naqshbandi-Haqqani order was developed and spread by Mawlana Sheikh Nazim in Europe, North America, Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. Today, the Naqshbandi-Haqqani order is one of the most diversified of current Sufi orders, with millions of disciples around the world.2 According to the Turkish anthropologist Tayfun Atay, Sheikh Nazim’s followers encompass approximately 65 nationalities.3 This may be one of the reasons that impelled Sheikh Nazim to spend his life preaching peaceful coexistence among different races and religions. It is important to mention here that Sheikh Nazim communicated mostly in English, his third language, to reach his wide and diversified audience. In this work, the transcription of his speeches has been mostly sourced from the German website www.sufismus-­online.de. Aside from the transliteration of Arabic words, there has been no alteration of the transcriptions used in this chapter. This chapter is based on Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s teaching on peaceful coexistence within and between religions. The originality of his teaching is perceived in both theoretical and practical dimensions. The first part analyzes two theoretical dimensions of Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s teachings on peaceful coexistence: his adoption of the concept of Rabbānism (Be with the Lord and for Him) and the principle of “Love and be loved.” How these two notions prevent conflicts within and between religions will be discussed. The second part of this chapter studies the practical dimensions of Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s active teachings on peaceful coexistence as he built bridges and fostered peace between religions through numerous trips around the world, engaging with common people and the elite. This section will highlight his meeting with Pope John Paul II in 1994, and with Pope Benedict XVI in 2010, and several other meetings with representatives of the Pope and other Christian and Jewish leaders.  Ibid.  Atay Tayfun, Naqshbandi Sufis in a Western Setting (PhD dissertation, School of African and Oriental Studies, 1993), 61. 2 3

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Furthermore, Sheikh Nazim’s high regard for Christian saints will be discussed, through the lens of Mawlana Sheikh’s testimonies of his own spiritual connections with Saint Nicholas of Flüe in Switzerland and Saint Barnabas in Cyprus, and his recommendations to his followers to visit their tombs. Finally, the last part of this chapter will examine Mawlana Sheikh Nazim al-Haqqani’s solutions to end violence in families and in societies.

Theoretical Dimensions of Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Teaching on Peaceful Coexistence Mawlana Sheikh Nazim was a devoted Muslim saint who was deeply engaged in building bridges between Muslims and non-Muslims. His speeches and writings on peace mainly convey two principles: his adoption of the Quranic principle of Rabbāniyya (Rabbānism), and his adoption of the principle of “Love and be loved.” Adoption of the Quranic Principle of Rabbānism that Unifies All Nations One of the theoretical aspects of Sheikh Nazim’s teaching on peaceful coexistence is his adoption of the Quranic concept of Rabbāniyya or Ribbiyya (Rabbānism) which eliminates all religious, racial, and ethnical barriers within and among religions. This concept has been mentioned four times in the Holy Qur’an: chapter three, verses 79 and 146, and chapter five, verses 44 and 63. According to Sheikh Nazim, Rabbānism means to be with the Lord and for Him: be with Him by knowing and worshipping Him; be for the Lord by educating and doing good deeds for all human beings irrespective of their faiths, races, or origins. On the night of October 20, 2010 (13th or 14th of Ḏū al-Qaʻda, 1431), in his hometown of Lefke in Turkey, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim made a speech (ṣuḥba) about the notion of Rabbānism and how it unifies Muslims as well as non-Muslims. He began by reminding all human beings that they should be thankful for their Lord who created them and granted them endless favors. He added that to thank God, they do not need to give anything to Him directly; they just need to say šhukr yā Rabbı ̄! (“Thanks to my Lord!”) and to learn, understand, and teach others that the Lord is happy with every positive effort made for His creatures, especially human beings.

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He then stressed that all religions are based on the principle of Rabbānism, and that all prophets, including Adam, Noah, Seth, Jonas, Abraham, Ismael, Isaac, Moses, Jesus, and Mohammad, had referred to God as Rabbanā, which means “our Lord,” and is one of His favorite names. Then Sheikh Nazim delved deeply into why human beings should be with their Lord and for Him by comparing two other concepts related to humankind: “servanthood” and “deputy.” He invited Muslim, Christian, and Jewish scholars to notice that servanthood is the first rank of human status, but the highest level is to be God’s deputy on the Earth, since the Lord has honored humankind with this title in the Holy Qur’an. Sheikh Nazim cited chapter two, verse 30, where God says, “I am placing a vicegerent upon the earth,”4 and chapter 17, verse 70, where He says, “We have indeed honored the Children of Adam.”5 Here, Sheikh Nazim contends that God has asked all human beings to rise from servanthood on this planet and ascend to His Divine Presence. Sheikh Nazim notes that this is what the Lord likes for His deputies, since He didn’t say in the previous verse, “I am going to create servants,” but rather “deputies.” It is clear that deputies must always return to whom they represent. Therefore, Rabbāni people should always seek the Divine Presence, be with their Lord through worship, and seek His satisfaction through assisting His creatures.6 The Rabbānism Principle Ends Division Within and Among Religions On that momentous night of October 20, 2010, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim al-Haqqani described his speech as a special declaration to satisfy all nations. He stated that instead of speaking about other religions, such as Christianity or Judaism, he would focus on Islam. He reminded attendees that the Prophet Mohammad said that his nation would be divided into 73 sects. Sheikh Nazim then said that the heavenly inspiration had just arrived with the guidance to transform those 73 sects into one by ending the use of any other appellation except Rabbāni.7 4  Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Caner K. Dagli, Maria Massi Dakake, and Joseph E.B. Lumbard, The Study Quran: A New Translation and Commentary (New York: HarperCollins, 2017) 20. 5  Ibid., 714. 6  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Koonoo Rabbaniyeen, ‘Be Those Who Establish Lordly Worship,’” Sufilive, October 20, 2010. https://sufilive.com/Be-Rabbāni% 2D%2D2770-EN-print.html. 7  Ibid.

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Sheikh Nazim applied this first to his own Islamic path, affirming that the heavenly inspiration that he received that night had brought an end to using the word taṣawwuf (Sufism) forever, since God had never revealed this term in the Qur’an, nor asked the Prophet Muhammad to use it as an Islamic appellation. Sheikh Nazim explained that from the night of his speech onward, no Muslim should identify himself as Sufi since Allah did not say, “Be Sufis or Naqšbandı ̄ or Qādirı ̄, or Mawlawı ̄, Šāḏilı ̄ or Salafı ̄, or Wahhabı ̄ or Shi`as or anything else,” but rather He said in the previously quoted Quranic verse, “Be Rabbāni.” Thus, Sheikh Nazim declared that from now until the end of the world, people must say, “I am trying to be a Rabbāni.” This would be the highest honor for them since there is no honor in being “Wahhabi” or “Salafi” or Sufi.8” Then Sheikh Nazim asked Muslims, Christians, and Jews to eliminate their divisions by identifying themselves as Rabbāni. He pointed out that this identification would destroy satanic plans to cause discord within and between religions through names and titles. Mawlana said: The Lord of Heavens says, ‘O My servants! Kūnū Rabbāniyūn!’ Be a Rabbāni. No more Sufism. Never! From now on until the end of the world, you must say, ‘I am Rabbāni! I am not Sufi. I am Rabbāni.’ That is the highest honor for us. This is for Christians, for Jewish people, and for the whole Islamic world, to take away nifāq, hypocrisy, and šiqāq, division. That order is coming tonight. Don’t say, ‘We are Naqshbandi-Haqqani.’ It belongs to Rabbāni […] O `ulamas! If anyone asks you what your way is? Say, ‘I am trying to be Rabbāni,’ or ‘I am Rabbāni.’ Finished! That is bombardment on the fortress of Satan. Finished! Don’t say, ‘I am Christian,’ ‘I am Jewish,’ ‘I am Maronite,’ ‘I am Orthodox,’ ‘I am Catholic,’ ‘I am Protestant,’ ‘I am Shi`a,’ ‘I am this, or that.’ No! No more using the term ‘Sufism’ as it was never used by Prophet Muhammad’s companions. The holy Qur’an says, ‘Kūnū Rabbāniyūn’ (Be Rabbānis). ‘When asked who you are? You must say, I am Muslim Rabbāni.’ Finished! No more ‘Naqshbandi,’ no more Sufism. Now the Salafis will be happy! Take titles away, as these are Satan’s titles that you are making up […]. Allah Almighty says, ‘You must be for all nations, you must be Rabbāni, belonging to Me only!’ Finished! There must be no more fighting between Salafis or Sufis. First of all, I am saying that I’m not Sufi, but I am trying to be Rabbāni.9  Ibid.  Ibid.

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Five months later (on March 9, 2011), Mawlana Sheikh Nazim made a speech to again ask Muslim groups such as Muslim Brothers, Shi’as, Salafis, and Wahhabis to end their divisions and to stop using these appellations since they are all Rabbānis.10 How to Be a Rabbāni Mawlana Sheikh Nazim ended the night’s speech on October 20, 2010, by explaining how human beings become Rabbāni. He cited a Ḥadı ̄th Qudsiyy11 (sacred tradition) in which Allah says, “O my servant, follow my order. I will make you Rabbāni; you say to a thing ‘Be!’ and it will be.” Thus, to become Rabbāni one should perform God’s recommendations and avoid His interdictions. Finally, Sheikh Nazim advised everyone to try to be Rabbāni, the highest level of servanthood which ends differences within and between religions. He specified that this message had never been delivered before.12 Sheikh Nazim’s Adoption of the Principle of “Love and Be Loved” On May 5, 2013, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim delivered a lecture based on two words that he contended came from his spiritual connection with Šāh Mardān (Sayyidinā Ali), who was the last caliph of the Prophet Muhammad. The words are “love” and “be loved.” He explained that these words have a cause-and-effect relationship: someone who loves will be loved back. On the other hand, if you do not love, you will not be loved. Then Mawlana affirmed that many people, especially oppressors, love Satan exclusively, the principal enemy of humankind, who has ordered them not to love their fellow human beings, but mercilessly destroy or kill

10  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani, “We Are All Rabbaniyeen; Be Not Divided,” March 9, 2011. https://sufilive.com/We-Are-All-Rabbaniyeen-Be-Not-Divided-3284-ENprint.html. 11  Hadith Qudsi is also named as hadith Rabbāni or hadith ilahi (divine hadith). This refers to a saying of the Prophet Muhammad in which the meaning is revealed by God, but the phrasing is formulated by the Prophet himself. In contrast to the Qur’an this is a divine revelation in both meaning and wording. 12  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Koonoo Rabbaniyeen, ‘Be Those Who Establish Lordly Worship,’” October 20, 2010. https://sufilive.com/Be-Rabb%C4%81ni% 2D%2D2770-EN-print.html.

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them. Consequently, these oppressors do not love anyone, and they even hate lovers who are loved.13  hy Should People Love? W Beyond the relationship between “love” and “be loved,” Mawlana built a multifaceted case through his talks in favor of the practice of love. He maintained that the universal basis of all religions is love; that humans are honored by God, and therefore carry a responsibility to love; that God elevated people with Divine Love, so they must live in harmony with His will; and that real love is Divine Love for God’s sake, not for the pleasure of the human ego. Firstly, Sheikh Nazim believed that Islam14 and all religions are based on love. He said: This is the pillar of Islam. First commandment—love and be loved. If this is so, Muslims must both love and be loved back. Those who don’t know to love, are not Muslim. People who are not loved are not Muslim also. This is why Ğanāb al- Ḥ aqq [God] says [in a sacred tradition]; ‘Ḥ arramt al-ẓulm ʻala nafsı ̄’ (I forbid oppression to Myself). Whoever oppresses will be crushed. [God says in the Quran chapter (85 verse 12]: ‘Inna batṣ̌ a rabbika la šadı ̄d’ [Indeed, the vengeance of your Lord is severe]. They will disappear. ‘I don’t need weapons’ says the Merciful Lord whom Šāh Mardān loves. When the Wrath of Allah comes, you will be destroyed. Don’t be with Satan, be with The Merciful! Write down this command of Šāh Mardān [Sayyidinā Ali].15

Sheikh Nazim asserted that Islam and all religions came with love and sympathy, but many people do not apply these traits, even though their faiths have taught them both principles. He maintained that the cause-­ and-­effect principle of “love and be loved” exists even in the animal world. For example, snakes do not love, and they are not loved either. On the other hand, horses love, and they are much loved.16

13  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “To Love and Be Loved, June 5, 2013. http:// www.sufismus-online.de/ToLoveAndBeLoved. 14  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “The Love Centre of the Hearts and the Love of the Most Beloved of Allah,” http://www.sufismus-online.de/LoveCenterofTheHearts. 15  http://www.sufismus-online.de/ToLoveAndBeLoved. 16  Ibid.

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Secondly, Mawlana taught that humans should love one another because they are honored by God: He made them His representatives on Earth, so no one should dare defile their honor by oppressing or murdering them. People should instead be generous toward others. Mawlana said: Oh Shia, you are Muslims, not unbelievers, Muslims, but you went astray and did wrong things because Šāh Mardān said to love and be loved. If you say he didn’t, you’ll lose faith. An addressing to the whole world, from Šāh Mardān, is to love and to be loved. It is a focal point. Today what beautiful advice we have! We may talk on it until the last day. This advice is what the Prophet Jesus said. This addressing is what the Prophet Abraham, forefather of all prophets, said. And what the Sultan of all prophets (sws) [peace and blessings of Allah be upon him] said, ‘Ḥ ub, ḥubbū fı ̄ Allah,’ (Love, and to love for Allah). You didn’t love people; you didn’t respect them as human. You didn’t learn the first lesson of Islam that is to love and be loved in return. No one ran away from our Prophet (sws) [peace and blessings be upon him] unless they obey their evil ego—ḥaš̄ ā min al ḥudūr [God forbid!]. All were running to him like the bees flying to the honeycomb. Unbelievers and hypocrites couldn’t stand this because they didn’t know how to love and be loved. Leaders of the Arabs! it is said in Qur’an, ‘Al-aʻrāb ašadd kufran wa nifāqan’ (9:97) [The Bedouin are more severe in disbelief and hypocrisy].17 Change this characteristic. Šāh Mardān is saying to love and be loved. Oh the Holy one, the Owner of the sword [named] Ḏul fiqār, is saying, ‘I am in the arena now.’ Please Šāh Mardān go on, you expressed it beautifully. What did Prophet Jesus said [sic] to the Christians? Did he say to make different weapons in order to kill people? Lying Christians. Jews, likewise, did the Prophet Moses say to them to invent machines to kill people, to build weapons? Or rather to love human beings and be loved? [Of course, to] love and be loved. May you love and be loved! Today’s people lost the habit of loving/sympathy. A big world [where] people forgot how to love! How beautiful [sic] you said it Šāh Mardān! Love and be loved. May we love and be loved in return. I am saying to his Highness the Pope too, and the Rabbis of Israel, who are leading. For the sake of the Torah sent to Moses, for the sake of the Bible sent to Jesus, let them answer—are these words truth or not? Did Prophet Jesus ever kill a human? Did Prophet Moses ever kill a human? They called people to heavenly ways. O Šāh Mardān, Ṣa ̄ḥib Riḍa Al-Raḥmān [sanctified by the Merciful]. Māšā’a Allāh! May today’s speech be sustenance /provision for your  The Holy Qur’an, chapter 21, verse 92 trans. Seyyed Nasr.

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friends. They ask for weapons, Šāh Mardān says this is our weapon. No one can stand against such a weapon. All Prophets taught to love and to be loved. You must first love Allāh Ḏu al- Ğalāl [God Almighty], then His prophets (as) [peace be upon them], then His clean/true servants. Full with love, one can’t kill people. However, they dare to destroy! Don’t these Christians, followers of the Messiah have any other business? Do these Christians have other business than building weapons? Why are they making weapons? Does it make people love you? Persians broke into Šam ̄ [Syria]. Did their weapons give or take love/sympathy or draw cursings [sic]on them? Please Šāh Mardān go on. Your [sword called] Ḏul fiqar̄ is ready any way! He says soon! We are greeting [the Islamic month of] Rajab Šahr Allah̄ [God’s month]. Let’s see what punishment is coming to the ones who are not obeying these words. Only one out of five will remain of the world’s population. Four will perish. Be righteous! Be Human! A human is the one who can love a human. Love and be loved. Nothing can harm you. Those without love will perish. Šāh Mardān is coming.18

Mawlana insisted that the salvation of humanity is in love. Everyone should love God, His prophets, and creatures. He believed that the ultimate cause of hate in this world is Satan, who teaches his followers to interfere in people’s love for each other; by contrast, all the prophets encouraged people to love and be loved. Thus, those who oppress, crush, and weaken people are on Satan’s way.19 Thirdly, in early April 1999, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim delivered another speech on love, explaining that Divine Love is incorporated in all human beings, so that they spread their love to all creatures to be in harmony with God’s will. He warned that this Divine Love may manifest temporarily and may seem to evaporate entirely. However, spirituality helps to unlock Divine Love and inner peace. Mawlana said: To perceive the beauty in all creation you must transcend outward forms and shapes and pass to meanings, eternal spiritual realities, as forms are limited and limiting, whereas spiritual realities are Oceans, endless Oceans of Contentment. To arrive at those Oceans will bring you inner peace. There are levels of love along the way. Their quality is different, according to their nearness to the goal, the Absolute Love Oceans of our Lord. When one has reached that goal, he may take any amount of harm from others and still love. He may say: ‘I love you for the sake of my Lord, not for  http://www.sufismus-online.de/ToLoveAndBeLoved.  Ibid.

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any other reason. That love will never change or diminish, as no matter what you do your Lord’s love is with you, and therefore I love you, too.’ We are trying to reach that point, but it is difficult. We are tested, and that is an opportunity for us to advance. Holy people have advised us that rather than avoiding all ill-mannered and badly educated people, we should mix with them and establish contact with them, that they may benefit and that we may test ourselves and gain thereby. The Holy Masters have promised me that whoever sits with me and listens with his heart full of love, being receptive to Divine Love, must come to the same level: their hearts must open to Divine Love. The Masters are not going to abandon us, and we are not going to turn from them, as our hearts have been bound with the strongest bond: the bond of Divine Love, that strongest [sic] relationship that exists between the Creator and His creatures. If the love that is with me was only transitory love, you wouldn’t sit with me for even one moment. But the love that is with me is real, permanent, and Divine; and I extend rays of it to your hearts in my association to awaken permanent love in you. This is a love that will blossom in your hearts. I am asking permission from my Lord to spread His permanent Divine Love to the hearts of all people. The time is approaching when we hope that permission will be granted.20

Finally, for Mawlana Sheikh Nazim, the real spiritual loves are love of God and love of human beings for the sake of God, not love based on ego. Mawlana said: O people, seek real love, a love that cannot go astray. That love is the love of God and the love of His creatures for the sake of his love for them. That love emanation may bind all receptive hearts. There is a common saying: ‘The friend of a friend is a friend,’ so love people if you love God, for you must know that He loves them. It is not always easy to love people, even good people, so what about the ḫarā’ [bad] people. Love pertaining to the ego is not love, as all the ego knows is to love itself, and what is commonly called love is but a mutual understanding to support each other’s egoism. Don’t trust your ego, nor anyone else’s, for the ego is disloyal by nature. When the spirit gains ascendancy, the ego may be harnessed and put to good use, as the Holy Prophet said, ‘Your ego is your mount,’ but left to its whims it will take you many miles from your path in search of herbage.21

 http://www.sufismus-online.de/LevelsOfLove.  http://www.sufismus-online.de/LoveIsTheWaterOfLife.

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To conclude, Sheikh Nazim believed that love is the water of life, and Divine Love connects human souls; that is why people become sad if they are not loved. He insisted that real love is a spiritual love of all human beings for the sake of God, and that what is commonly called love is just “a mutual understanding to support each other’s egoism.” Finally, Mawlana explained that the cause of hate in this world is Satan, who is the archenemy of humankind and teaches his followers to interfere with love.

Practical Dimensions of Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Active Teachings on Peaceful Coexistence The particularity of Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s speeches on peaceful coexistence within and among religions is that they were translated into concrete actions, beginning with his own personal involvement in building bridges and peace between religions. He made numerous trips around the world to meet with common people, regardless of their faiths and religions, and met with Jewish, Catholic, and Orthodox church leaders, as well as the heads of other religions. In addition, unlike many Muslim saints and scholars, Mawlana revealed having spiritual connections to certain Christian saints and recommended that his followers visit their tombs. Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Meeting with Pope Benedict XVI Living in London from the early 1970s onward, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim participated in numerous interfaith gatherings around the world. On November 3, 1994, he attended the opening of the 6th World Conference on Religion and Peace at the Vatican, presided by Pope John Paul II. On June 1, 2010, Mawlana had a brief but powerfully symbolic meeting with Pope Benedict XVI in Cyprus, outside the small Holy Cross Church, which is in the United Nations buffer zone that divides northern and southern Cyprus. Five days after this encounter, Sheikh Nazim said: I was meeting with His Holiness, the Pope. May the Lord of Heavens grant to him what His Holiness is asking! Here he is asking nothing, because he reached the top line, but I was looking to his face, and saw his eyes were searching for something else! I was looking at His Holiness, the Pope, [who is] not looking at this world and which thing he is dressing in, no! His Holiness’ eyes were looking for something that common people can’t

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understand, only one who is on that level may understand! Just I understood, and at that time I embraced him and took away everything that was making His Holiness disturbed; it was just taken away. Therefore, he was coming quickly and my heavenly power was also reaching, taking him. I was hugging His Holiness and he was light as a feather, coming heavy and going light! His Holiness was visiting Cyprus and he visited so many countries but was asking to meet someone who may be a support for him. Throughout the East and West there was no one, but that one minute of time was enough! Therefore, everyone is asking for something, but they are not knowing for what they are asking! Only some people whose hearts belong to heavens know what they are asking! His Holiness was asking to be free. From whom? Free from himself, and to rise towards the Heavens! Do you understand? … O People! May Allah forgive us. Therefore, His Holiness was coming because he was asking for something for his original being, but yet our Salafi ‘ulama are not feeling such things! Therefore, they are asking, but not coming here! They are saying, ‘Who is that one?’ Yes, I am nothing, but if you come near me, you can understand what we have been granted! That is a specialty for some ones [sic] from human nature, and they have powers. Now His Holiness is taking powers and flying away! And I am saying, yes, towards your Lord’s Divinely Presence [sic], as he was saying when he was flying up.22

It seems here that Mawlana was speaking about a spiritual connection with the Pope, using his heavenly power as a Sufi saint. In addition, Mawlana discussed his spiritual connection to Christian saints who had passed away centuries ago. Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Spiritual Connection with Saint Nicholas of Flüe Saint Nicholas of Flüe, by name Brother Klaus (1417–1487), was a Swiss hermit, saint, and hero. He is the only canonized Swiss saint.23 His burial chapel is situated in Sachseln village in the canton of Obwalden, in the center of Switzerland. Mawlana spoke several times about Saint Nicholas. Here he relates how he found this Christian saint: 22  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Pope Benedict’s Visit,” June 20, 2010. http:// www.sufismus-online.de/PopeBenedictsVisit. 23  “Nicholas of Flue, Hermit of Switzerland,” https://www.hermitary.com/articles/ flue.html.

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I was passing from Germany to come back through Austria, and passing through Switzerland, there was a monastery on the way [for] St. Nicholas, a good building and buried there [is] St. Nicholas. Every time I am passing, a calling to Lord of Heavens, calling, ‘Come and visit me.’ I visited him and he is so happy, I am happy also, I am happy. Therefore, those people that they are asking belongs to Allah Almighty’s Divine Presence, are not for dunyā, for this life, but their Lord’s divinely [sic] service.24

Mawlana discovered Saint Nicholas of Flüe’s monastery and tomb while traveling through Switzerland and heard Saint Nicolas’ spiritual voice asking him to come to visit him, with which he complied. Thereafter, he heard this spiritual request every time he neared that place, and he always went to visit Saint Nicolas’ tomb. As Mawlana said of Pope Benedict XVI, he affirmed that Saint Nicholas of Flüe was focused on divine service to his Lord, not this temporary world. For this reason, Sheikh Nazim asked his followers who lived in Switzerland to visit Saint Nicholas’ tomb. Mawlana’s spiritual connections with Christian saints went beyond Roman Catholic saints. Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Spiritual Connection to Saint Barnabas of Cyprus Saint Barnabas is the patron saint of Cyprus, and one of the founders of the independent Greek Orthodox church. Mawlana Sheikh Nazim used to ask his followers who came to visit him in Lefke, Cyprus, to visit the shrine of Saint Barnabas, near Famagusta, in Northern Cyprus. Mawlana was well acquainted with the story of Saint Barnabas and had a mystical connection with him. Mawlana said: We were living here with Greek people, they are Orthodox, Italians are Catholic and the Church just divided, east and west. West (went to the) Pope, East (went to) Archbishop Bartholomeos, and he is my friend. Church of Cyprus was independent here, because Byzantine Emperor just granted to Church of Cyprus independence, for what? Because of Saint Barnabas. You must know that one, St. Barnabas, was a disciple of Jesus Christ, peace be upon him, and perhaps you may visit his tomb if you are staying here longer. […]. And every time I am passing closer to his tomb, his spiritual power asking me, ‘O Sheikh, come and visit me,’ and I am going to his  Sufilive. https://sufilive.com/Story-of-Saint-Barnabas-1710-EN-print.html.

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tomb, underground, very simple grave, over it there is a big dome on that place […]. Therefore Subhanallah, there belonging to all the Lord of Heavens making peace here, every time coming down, spiritual power, I am going and coming down, it is like a cave and I am beginning also [to say] “fa`alam annahu lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, lā ilāha illā Allāh, Sayyiduna Muḥammad Rasūlullāh.”25 He is very happy! I am happy also! Now my age is older than his age, he was in his 70s, and my age over his age. He was younger when he passed away.26

Moreover, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim had a close relationship with Sir Thomas, the representative of the Pope in Cyprus, who visited Mawlana many times at his home in Lefke. In addition, Mawlana met with religious leaders beyond Christianity. Mawlana Sheikh Nazim’s Meetings and Mystical Connection with a Jewish Rabbi Mawlana Sheikh Nazim greatly respected Jews and believed that God has honored them and chose them above other nations, granting them power and intelligence in all fields, though they are limited in number.27 He also had high regard for them because he felt that they are waiting for the coming of the Messiah. In 1948, Mawlana visited Jerusalem, where he went into a Sufi seclusion.28 He also met with Jewish people around the world, and many of them used to visit him at his house in Lefke, Cyprus. On March 1, 1994, in London, Sheikh Nazim met with a rabbi (whose name is not mentioned in the texts describing the visit) who wished for reconciliation between Muslims and Jews. He believed that they are the closest of brothers, with many things in common.29 During this meeting, Mawlana revealed that he had a spiritual connection with the rabbi. Sheikh Nazim said:  This is an invocation; the first part is repeated here eight times. The whole invocation means “Know that there is no god but God, and the Master Muhammad is the Messenger of God.” 26  Sufilive. https://sufilive.com/Story-of-Saint-Barnabas-1710-EN-print.html. 27  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Sheik Nazim Meets a Rabbi,” January 3, 1994. http://www.sufismus-online.de/SheikhNazimMeetsARabbi. 28  Ibid. 29  Ibid. 25

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We met here today because we have already met in the spiritual world. There is a connection between his soul and mine. This love cannot be taken away. Even if we separate on the physical level, we will still think about each other. My computer has registered him. He will never be lost. I will always know where he is. His eyes are so familiar. Eyes cannot hide the personality of people. That is why the people at the customs look you in the eyes.30

Thus, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim al-Haqqani lived and practiced peaceful coexistence between religions by holding personal meetings with non-­ Muslims, including their religious leaders. In addition, Mawlana recognized the sainthood of certain non-Muslims such as Saint Barnabas and Saint Nicholas of Flüe, revealed his spiritual connection with them, and urged his disciples and followers to visit their shrines. Finally, Mawlana recognized having a spiritual connection with living non-Muslims, as he did during his meeting with the Rabbi in London. For these reasons, the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi order led by Sheikh Nazim for approximately 40 years has engaged in interfaith dialogue activities around the world, implementing one of his solutions to foster peace everywhere.

Mawlana Sheikh Nazim al-Haqqani’s Solution to End Violence in Families, Communities, and Societies According to Mawlana Sheikh Nazim, humankind is honored and valuable to God, which is why He asked angels to prostrate to Adam, and made him His representative on Earth; however, many people ignore this reality as they are only aware of the physical aspect of human beings. If they knew the honor and value of humankind, they would live peacefully in families and in the world, not harming each other or launching wars to take lives, which is the greatest of sins.31 To build peace in this world, Mawlana Sheikh Nazim recommended beginning with families, then communities, then societies, and then the entire world. To this end, Mawlana proposed several steps. Firstly, he advised teaching children three important principles: friendship, loyalty, and honesty. He believed that all religions have taught these  Ibid.  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Extremely Unjust, Extremely Ignorant.” January 9, 2013. http://www.sufismus-online.de/ExtremelyUnjust. 30 31

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to make a person good, and the future of humanity depends on friendly, loyal, and honest people.32 To acquire these three characteristics, people should have a real belief system and practice it, knowing that they are not supposed to live alone, but are to develop friendship, loyalty, and honesty with others, without egoism. Secondly, in families, men must fully take care of the family’s needs. They should do their best for their children and wives, who should do the same, in balance. They should like and respect each other. In other words, a man should strive to be the best man for his family, and a woman should strive to be the best woman for her family. Thirdly, people should live in peace with their neighbors. For Sheikh Nazim, a neighborhood not only comprises the immediately surrounding houses, but 40 houses in every direction from someone’s home. People in a household should look after and maintain a good relationship with all of them. This community should live united as one family, and avoid negative influences.33 Fourthly, people should be able to forgive each other, since forgiveness is another important characteristic of good people; it gives them honor and prevents enmity and revenge. Mawlana stated that revenge is forbidden in all religions and totally prohibited in the Naqshbandi Sufi order. Any Naqshbandi who takes revenge is expelled from this Ṭ ariqa.34 Fifthly, to bring world peace, Mawlana believed that we should first have peaceful hearts and inner peace. The best way to achieve this is through the spiritual path of following a master who has himself found peace by focusing on the heavenly stations, and who understands that there is no peace on Earth as long as humans are only attached to the material world.35 Sheikh Nazim stated that religious people have more responsibility than anyone else to bring peace to the world, by establishing peace in people’s hearts; however, unfortunately, most of them use unproductive ways such as conferences, without much practical change to daily life. Mawlana stated during an interview with Chicago Independent TV, “I advise holy people to not waste time with such conferences, but to try 32  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Friendship.” http://www.sufismus-online.de/ Friendship. 33  http://www.sufismus-online.de/Friendship. 34  Ibid. 35  Mawlana Shaykh Nazim Al-Haqqani, “Interview with the Independent TV Chicago,” January 11, 1994. http://www.sufismus-online.de/InterviewWithTheIndependent TVChicago.

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to bring peace to people. But you cannot bring peace to people if you don’t have any yourself. And as far as I can see, no-one here has peace within themselves, so how do they want to pass it on?”36 Finally, Sheikh Nazim called for banning the production of weapons, since one who is Rabbāni does not harm even an ant. Those who kill people are not Rabbānis, but followers of Satan.

Conclusion This study shows that Sheikh Muhammad Nazim Al-Haqqani was a devout Muslim saint who made exceptional efforts to establish peace between Muslims and the adherents of other religions. It is remarkable that he not only spoke or wrote about peace between religions, but also abided by his words with actions, to be an example to follow. Sheikh Nazim used mostly English, his third language, in his speeches and writings about peaceful coexistence in order to reach people around the globe. His talks and books about this subject are distinguished by their spirituality and depth in meaning, connotation, and reference. Due to his high spiritual level, his speeches were based on mystical inspiration that fit perfectly with Islamic sources. For example, when Sheikh Nazim referred to the principle of Rabbāni, he defined it in a complex manner, namely, as the one who seeks the Divine Presence through the worship of God exclusively, and at the same time seeks God’s satisfaction through serving all human beings, regardless of their religion or race. This interpretation may seem to be quite new, but it refers to centuries-­ old Qur’anic exegeses: in his book Al-tafsı ̄r al-Kabı ̄r, Faḫr Al-dı ̄n Al-Razı ̄, one of the most important commentators on the Qur’an, mentioned several opinions about the meaning of Rabbāni as it appears in the Qur’an, chapter 3, verse 79. Examining these opinions, it becomes clear that they are all compatible with the definition that Sheikh Nazim gave for the word Rabbāni. Therefore, the Sheikh’s reference to the principle of Rabbānism to avoid division and hatred between the followers of various religions is tremendous, logical reasoning: Every believer should worship the Lord and serve all human beings. This ends the problems between and within religions which are often caused by sectarianism, as mentioned by Sheikh Nazim.

 Ibid.

36

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Sheikh Nazim’s discourse on the principle of love to build peace among the adherents of different religions demonstrates persuasive reasoning as it comprehensively answers the question of why everyone should love others. He stated that all religions are based on love; Divine Love is incorporated into humans; everyone who loves will be loved; human beings are honored by God, who made them His representative on Earth. Therefore, they should love and be loved. These profound reasons are likely to spread love among people, regardless of their beliefs, races, or cultures. Moreover, Sheikh Nazim gave love a meaning different from the familiar mutual and common love that may often stem from the ego. He said that true love is the love of all creatures for the sake of the Creator, exclusively. Certainly, this is an elevated level of love, as it is a boundless love that encourages a person to love everyone, even his enemies. There is no doubt that if this love were to spread in today’s world, the conflicts among adherents of different religions would end. Sheikh Nazim not only spoke and wrote theoretically about coexistence between religions; he practiced it in his own daily life through many trips around the world, including Europe and North America, to visit non-­ Muslims and to promote peaceful coexistence between religions. The Sheikh also prioritized meeting with leaders of other faiths. He attended the Sixth World Conference on Religion and Peace, presided over by Pope John Paul II in the Vatican, in 1994; met with Pope Benedict XVI in September 2010  in Cyprus; and gathered with leaders from other religions, including rabbis. All these encounters demonstrate the Sheikh’s endeavor to establish peace between Islam and other religions. Perhaps the most important practical steps taken by Sheikh Nazim for peace between religions were his recognition of the sainthood of Saint Barnabas and Saint Nicholas, his spiritual connection with them when he approached their shrines, and the advice he gave to his own disciples in Switzerland and Cyprus to visit the tombs of these Christian saints. This is an advanced step in coexistence, as it is very rare to find a spiritual leader who recommends visiting the shrines of saints of another religion. To resolve problems in the world, Sheikh Nazim advised people to establish peace from the bottom up, beginning from home, by educating children around the three principles of friendship, loyalty, and honesty, universal to all religions. The Sheikh not only recommended educating children at home, he also encouraged educating fathers and mothers. He recommended that the husband of each house should be the best man in his house, and each wife should be the best woman in hers.

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After this education of family members, young and old, Sheikh Nazim advised families to live with their neighbors in peace, harmony, and solidarity. It is important to highlight here that neighbors for the Sheikh include the 40 households in the four directions from one’s home, communities of which villages, cities, states, and countries are composed. It is clear that if this bottom-up education were implemented, peace would prevail around the world, despite comprising different religions and beliefs. To conclude, it is imperative to mention that this work on Sheikh Nazim’s teachings regarding peaceful coexistence between religions represents a fraction of his extensive discourse on this subject. Researchers and those interested in interfaith dialogue should study and disseminate Sheikh Nazim’s works to establish peace between and within religions.

PART II

Comparative Studies of Mystical Traditions

CHAPTER 8

Cupitt’s New Religion of the Everyday in the Global Context John G. Quilter

An Introduction to Don Cupitt and the Importance of His Work Born in England in 1934, Don Cupitt studied at Cambridge University, first natural science, then theology and philosophy of religion. He was priested in the Church of England in 1960. By 1965 he attained a post teaching philosophy of religion at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, to which college he has been attached since. He is currently an emeritus fellow there. He retired in 1996. He ceased to officiate at public worship in the early 1990s and in 2008 ceased to be a communicant member of the church. Cupitt first became prominent in 1977 when he participated in the Myth of God Incarnate symposium of that year. His public academic work includes his television series on the BBC, Open to Question (1973), Who was Jesus? (1977), and The Sea of Faith (1984). His 1980 book Taking

J. G. Quilter (*) School of Philosophy, Australian Catholic University, Strathfield, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_8

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Leave of God earned him the reputation as the “most radical theologian in the world.” Many questioned the legitimacy of his priesthood, and even his credentials as a Christian, because of the anti-realist, apparently ­(anti-) metaphysically atheistic position he propounded. Cupitt has received significant critical attention from theologians during his career. However, it is fair to say that this attention has waned with his gradual retreat from the institutional church, particularly after 2000. His views call for a radical revision of Christian religious thought toward a more accessible position for postmodern people: one that is non-institutional, radically non-­ metaphysical and anti-realist, and “atheistic.” He argues persistently that traditional Christianity is committed to metaphysical theism and that this needs to be given up along with concomitant ideas of the soul having a transcendental supernatural destiny; the alternative sensibility he defends is advanced as genuinely religious—what he calls “the new religion of the everyday.” Early on, Cupitt seems to understand his anti-realist, anti-metaphysical atheistic views as providing materials for a reinterpretation of Christian teaching and worldview. While presented as an alternative radical theology within Christian faith, the issues go to the meaning of Christian talk and how far that meaning can be stretched while being retained. Debate about Cupitt’s thinking was theological and quite lively.1 Particularly since the late 1990s, Cupitt offers his ideas as an alternative, philosophically informed, religious outlook rather than another theological conception. His main interlocutors become postmodern philosophers. That said, the figure of Jesus and his “kingdom theology” remain important elements of this new religion of the everyday, and Cupitt’s relationship to the traditional iconography of Christian faith is visible in his theory of the Abstract Sacred. Given this, one might think of Cupitt’s approach as a Christian faith when it is self-consciously this-­ worldly and anti-realist in a postmodern liberal democratic framework. Further, Cupitt’s work is philosophically engaged and erudite and represents a distinctive philosophy of religion embodied in this religious sensibility.

1  For a brief though helpful and insightful account of this debate and Cupitt’s impact on British theology, see Pickstock, C. “Theology and Postmodernity: An Exploration of the Origins of a New Alliance,” in Hyman, G. (ed.) New Directions in Philosophical Theology (Abingdon, UK: Ashgate Publishing, 2004), chapter 4, section I.

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There are two aspects of Cupitt’s thinking, particularly his conception of the “new religion of the everyday,” which merit greater critical scrutiny than they have received so far. The first is the question of the place of mysticism or the spiritual in his outlook; the second is the question of his relationship to Buddhism. Together these provide the reason for this chapter. The two are connected. Some commentators see Cupitt’s enduring legacy in terms of his contribution as a spiritual writer more than anything else.2 I will suggest the mystical is more central than this, given his notion of religious happiness. Secondly, at times Cupitt presents himself as a Buddhist Christian or as moving in such a direction.3,4 I will argue that while the role of Buddhism in his thinking can be overstated, his notion of religious happiness is the conception that fits most systematically with certain kinds of Buddhism. As groundwork for addressing these questions directly, I will begin with an account of the major lineaments of Cupitt’s critique of traditional religion and his conception of the new religion of the everyday. Critique of “Two World” Religion and Spirituality Traditional religion is in trouble, argues Cupitt, because it is wedded to a metaphysically realist picture of life as consisting of two worlds along many dimensions, as follows: • This world we live in is the flawed and sinful exile we endure in order, eventually, to escape it to what is our real home, the world with God, in eternity, where we can hope for perfection and consolation for the sorrows of this life; 2  See, for example, Astely, J. “Religious Non-realism and Spiritual Truth” in Hyman, G. (ed.) New Directions in Philosophical Theology (Abingdon, UK: Ashgate Publishing, 2004), chapter 1. 3  “The Human Condition: Diagnosis and Therapy” in Cupitt, D., Is Nothing Sacred? The Non-Realist Philosophy of Religion: Selected Essays (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002) essay 6. 4  This in itself is important at a time when theologians explore the possibilities of dualbelonging and when other Western religious philosophical writers confess allegiance to Buddhism, though often in ways importantly different to Cupitt’s, for example Paul Knitter in Knitter, P. & Haight, R., Jesus & Buddha: Friends in Conversation (Orbis Books, Maryknoll, 2015); Michael McGhee, Transformations of Mind: Philosophy as a Spiritual Practice (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge UK, 2000); and Spirituality for the Godless: Buddhism, Humanism and Religion (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, UK, 2021).

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• There is our inner life with God which we cultivate by self-denial and spiritual discipline preparing ourselves for our escape to heavenly perfection; and there is our outer life in this world, our physical body and social life which is flawed and sinful, imperfect and resistant to holiness and grace, but is not the reality of who we are which is found in the graced life of the inward soul; • There is the worldly membership of the church in the laity who live and work to support the church and its mission in pilgrimage in this life, who, because of their engagement with the fallen world, have a mighty struggle to make spiritual progress without the leadership of the professionally holy teachers and guides possessed of the deposit of divine knowledge necessary for salvation found in the other (after-)life and world with God; • And there is the structuring of the world by this class of holy people into the sacred and profane, the spiritual and the secular, the religious and worldly … and so on; • So, there are human conventional morality and divine moral law; there is the law of the state grounded on practice and the law of the church founded on divine teaching and will. These dualisms consistently favor the divine, religious, and other-­ worldly as good, wholesome, salvific, and virtuous as contrasted to the human, secular, and this-worldly as failed, corrupt, or fallen, and hopelessly vitiated as a source of any happiness. Cupitt argues that these dualisms characterize the traditional religious worldview, its conception of life, and the spiritual/religious outlooks found in the world’s monotheistic religions but also in the mainstream of Eastern religions as well, with some exceptions. But this “two worlds” conception is an utterly hopeless way of seeing things and inaccessible and unintelligible to the contemporary mind and heart. The antidote comes in his reading of the postmodern philosophers. Cupitt tells us that after The World to Come (1982), he wanted to get up to date by learning the lessons of the philosophical work of Nietzsche, Lacan, Deleuze, Freud, Bataille, Baudrillard, Derrida, Hegel, and Heidegger inter alios. The signs of these developments show quickly in works like The Sea of Faith BBC series and book (1984), Only Human (1985), Life Lines (1986), The Long-Legged Fly (1987), and numerous articles, talks, and interviews.

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During the 1980s, Cupitt comes to realize that the shift to the non-­ realist understanding of the negative way cannot be quarantined to the theory of God or even just to religion. The understanding of the soul and mind or consciousness, the understanding of the cosmos or the world, our philosophy of science and morality, the understanding of history and the afterlife, and so much more are all affected by this shift.5 Reading in postmodernism, starting with Nietzsche, impressed on him several thoughts as corrective of traditional dualisms: • That there is no escaping that thought is language introjected; • That therefore the starting point of sensible philosophy is in the public reality of language; • That language is “outsideless”—there is no non-linguistic point of view from which we can say anything about the world, our place in it, or any relations, epistemological, semantic, or metaphysical, between the world and ourselves; • That all this applies to all bodies of thought from the toughest-­ minded, best confirmed physical theory to art, law and morality, religion, and philosophy—nothing is exempt from the ubiquity and pervasiveness of language; • That what we call “reality” is a construction from the resources of language, which construction is best understood as expressive creations, on an artistic model, for diverse and plural purposes that we have in living together; • Thus, “the mind” is best understood as the consciousness of a shared, intersubjective common world (of our creation) rather than a private inner realm prior to grasping an extra-mental objective order, the world; this latter, Cartesian realm, is unreal; • And so, no discourse is privileged or foundational, epistemologically, semantically, or metaphysically, but all are equally expressions of our diverse and pluralistically construed points of view; • And that meaning and spirituality go “all the way down,” along with language, in all intelligible existence, and are matters of life or the life-world, symbolically mediated rather than anything else.

5  Don Cupitt, Is Nothing Sacred? The Non-Realist Philosophy of Religion: Selected Essays (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002), xv.

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Whereas Cupitt is a Christian Kantian6 in 1980’s Taking Leave of God,7 by the time of The Sea of Faith (1984), he is developing into a postmodernist and has arrived there in full force by The Long-Legged Fly (1987). Creation out of Nothing (1990) is a central formulation of this view with its presuppositions/implications pursued in The Last Philosophy (1995) and Mysticism after Modernity (1998). The views in these works are very unified and spell out a vision that seems to have settled markedly into the later Cupitt of the new millennium. Cupitt variously calls that constructive vision “solar living,” “the spirituality of secondariness,” and “expressivist Spinozism,” among other terms. This general vision of religious sensibility satisfies itself with this world, eschewing hope in anything transcendent or ultimate beyond the apparent life world, finding salvation in religious joy in expansive self-giving heedless of the cost, living and dying in one movement of exuberant self-giving, holding on to nothing and letting each new expression go in the glory of its sparkling but utterly transient scintillation, riding the wave of language-constructed life welling up restlessly and unboundedly. I will revisit what I think is the more mature version of this in 2000’s Emptiness and Brightness shortly.

Mysticism: The Argument of Mysticism after Modernity The argument of 1998’s Mysticism after Modernity is direct and straightforward. After a postmodern critique of the modern appropriation of the mystical tradition interpreted in terms of a kind of experience that is extra-­ linguistic and connects the believer to God directly and immediately,8 Cupitt locates mysticism as a kind of writing with a historical and cultural context.9 Denying that mystical authors first enjoy direct and unmediated experience of the divine, Cupitt locates mysticism as a disruptive, transgressive literature which subverts the authoritarian structures of dogmatic religion in the name of freedom and religious happiness, that is, salvation. Though it is a religion of salvation, Christianity under the auspices of objective realism, with the metaphysics of theism, insists on deferring 6  A designation also found in Cowdell’s reading of this book: see Scott Cowdell, Atheist Priest? Don Cupitt and Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1988), 18. 7  Though Cupitt describes himself as a “left Kierkegaardian”: Is Nothing Sacred?, xviii. 8  Don Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity (Blackwell: Oxford, 1998) chapters 1 and 2. 9  Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, chapter 2, pp. 41–45; chapter 4.

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religious happiness until the afterlife. In the meantime, the authority structure of the church and the professional elites of the priesthood, possessed of a specialist knowledge, construed objectively realistically, and the sacramental means of grace that is their exclusive prerogative, use their position of power and privilege to exert social control over ordinary people, with the assumption that these ordinary people cannot be trusted with real freedom. Objective realist orthodoxy thus becomes implicated in the politics of oppression and control.10 However, in a series of important arguments, Cupitt posits the thesis that traditional arguments for the need of the authority structure of the church are disingenuous. The arguments for this deferment not only imply that the metaphysical distinction between God and human beings renders it unintelligible how, in our current existence, human beings could enjoy “union with God.” They also imply that this deferment is permanent and religious alienation is a condition of our existence.11 The difficulties of understanding the hypostatic union in the Incarnation extend to the conclusion that even with grace and divine action, the metaphysical gulf between human beings and God is unbridgeable: either there can be no meaningful communion between the soul and God, or the soul will be annihilated in God.12 Objective realist metaphysics are determinative on the matter. Religious happiness is a cruel impossibility if objective realism is correct. Against this background, using Eckhart as an example, Cupitt explains mysticism as beginning with apparently orthodox thinking, but moving to ideas that empower the individual to find religious happiness and union with God in this life, preserving a “plausible deniability” for safety’s sake in veiled formulations, using a mischievous play on religious language and the opportunities thrown up for us by life—God’s “creation out of nothing.” In this way, mystical literature is a cultural disruptor standing up for the hope for real religious happiness against the oppressions of authoritarianism and privilege. In this way, Cupitt argues that mysticism represents an anticipation of the best of left postmodernism and deconstruction. Union with God is achievable in a non-realist reinterpretation of the tradition. Christian tradition is, therefore, not exclusively objective realist orthodoxy. The  Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, chapters 3 and 6.  Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, pp. 125–131. 12  Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, pp. 111–114. 10 11

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mystics show the way to a validly Christian postmodern engagement with the world as we find it today.13 I want to make two observations about the logic leading Cupitt to this position. First, what is noteworthy in his development is that he moves from a situation, in his early work, of finding himself craving for liberation from selfishness in this life, to, in this later work, a more sanguine situation about something he finds worth calling “religious happiness” and a feeling of being more at home in this world. It is not as if this shift marks a move from hope in a world to come after this life, to the loss of that hope. For in both periods of his thinking, the afterlife is at best a symbol of the aspiration to salvation, that is, either meeting the religious requirement or joyful self-giving in creative expression and work and thus dying in this world to “join God in death.” For Cupitt it is always the case that if religion has nothing to offer people in this life, it has nothing to offer. The second observation is that Cupitt’s reclamation of the Western mystical tradition as an antecedent of radical theology could be taken to invite interpreting him as offering this notion of religious happiness as a  Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, pp. 142–143:

13

That the words ‘God,’ ‘All,’ and “Nothing” are more or less interchangeable has often been noticed by religious writers. An excellent example of a thoroughly ‘noncognitive’ or ‘non-realist’ mystical writer is the author of The Cloud of Unknowing, a small English treatise of the fourteenth century. He is entirely serious about the title. He really means his Negative Theology. God is loved, not known. ‘The highest and next way to heaven is run by desires and not by paces of feet’ (chapter 60). As for the object of religious aspiration, it is nowhere and nought (68). It makes us nowhere and nought, too, indeed: our wits cannot reason about it—but that only makes us love it all the more. God’s emptiness has the effect of purifying and intensifying religious feeling to the highest degree. That is to say, for the author of the Cloud, the very fact that God isn’t out-there and doesn’t literally exist is necessary if we are to learn a truly religious, non-objective, solar, disinterested and divine sort of love. But if a God who isn’t really there has taught that kind of love for the first time, it is as if our soul has been blinded by the intensity of our feeling, blinded ‘for abundance of ghostly light’ and we may then call the religious object All. Thus the words ‘God,’ ‘Nothing,’ and ‘All’ are equivalent and the Cloud author does indeed present a non-cognitive and purely e-motive view of religion …. … for the negative theologian, realism must involve a form of ‘idolatry’—idolatry meaning the fixation of religious feeling upon an object, this and not-that. Genuine faith is not fixated at all ….

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Christian theological re-reading of the concept of salvation. This is potentially misleading. For this shift to the postmodern conception of religious happiness persists in the new religion of the everyday. The spirituality of the new religion of the everyday assures this.14 The mystical or spiritual is critical to what the new religion of the everyday is about and, indeed, can be taken to be its very point. Toward the New Religion of the Everyday After 2000, the postmodern themes informing the constructive alternative to metaphysical realist religion develop and mature but also change in important ways. I offer in what follows a rational reconstruction of the argument for Cupitt’s alternative picture of new religion. We begin with a few observations about the cultural conditions confronting Cupitt’s project as he sees it. The impact of globalization is pervasive in life, and it represents a serious problem for traditional religions. Traditional religions are essentially local or regional: they are expressions of cultures which are geographically bound by the conditions of our former ways of being on this planet: limited by communications, resource bases, and so on. To put it crudely, Judaism and Christianity and Islam are essentially European and Middle Eastern, Hinduism is essentially Indic, and Buddhism is essentially East Asian/Indic. Against the background of such a thought, all that can be hoped for from interfaith dialogue is friendly relations across boundaries of religious differences expressive of local, but now superseded, identities that are defined by the metaphysical realist religions of old. At worst, interfaith dialogue becomes a way of willfully asserting religious identity by protecting one’s turf, symptomatic of all that is mythological and destructive about metaphysical realist religion. Since interfaith cooperation must be cooperation between such local identities, it has no energy to take us into a new religious outlook for life as globalized individuals for whom, in the postmodern globalized world, identity must be fluid, surface, and not deep, and transient but communicative across the planet. Furthermore, those individuals themselves, surfing the Internet to find and soak up knowledge of far distant religious lives and ideas, are themselves unmoored from the traditions that formed their parents and  See Cupitt, Mysticism after Modernity, chapter 9.

14

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grandparents and equipped them with resources of identity that divide them from others and mythically root them in non-existent depths of inwardness and validation by illusory transcendence. The people of this world nowadays are detraditionalized and afloat on the sea of alternatives: their world is truly international, their needs for communicative and expressive resources and for self-constitution (such as this is) are truly global, and the world they will operate in is truly no longer dependent on the local identities of the past. Any religious alternative to the old religions has to address this situation and work with it, not against it. Consequently, interfaith dialogue as a religious way forward for the planet is completely useless and a waste of time. All it can ultimately offer is heritage religion, historicist interest in the past, or nostalgia for a bygone era—none of which religiously nourish our current world. Similarly, Cupitt is suspicious of new religious movements and “spirituality” (as an alternative to being religious)—purely “do it yourself” spirituality as a response to our contemporary predicament: such movements are in danger of reproducing old dualistic mistakes, if they are to avoid being hopelessly vague and indeterminate; they also risk being self-serving or delusionally being dominated by others’ or one’s own fantasies. Rather, a new religious sensibility needs to be reasoned and responsive to sustained critical thinking as it stands after postmodernism: it needs to be this-worldly and secular, flat in the sense that it harbors no myths about transcendent or inward realities or truths, and it has to be globally accessible to all comers of good will.15 15  Cupitt’s account of religious language that satisfies these constraints is his theory of the Abstract Sacred. Though it would be a digression, this element of Cupitt’s philosophy of religion is important. It takes its lead from certain aspects of the religious art practice of van Gogh in pieces like Agony in the Garden (1889) from which van Gogh omitted all the human figures, depicting the suffering in the contortions of the olive trees; Raising of Lazarus (1890) from which he omits Christ, and 1885’s The Potato Eaters painted as a rendition of the resurrection story of the supper in Emmaus from Luke’s Gospel; and finally, Still Life with Open Bible in 1885, which depicts Zola’s gritty secular novel Joie de Vivre as the modern counterpart of the messianic passage of Isaiah 53. Cupitt explains: Van Gogh was saying then that, paradoxically, if a modern work of art is to be authentically religious today, it cannot be religious in the old sense. It must look secular. The agony of the olive trees, the peasant meal, and the afflicted woman of the drawing Sorrow must be enough for us. And this is what I mean by the Abstract Sacred. After the Enlightenment, we found that the very moves by which we had made the old religious iconographies intelligible to ourselves also made it impossible for us to continue them as religious. (“Is Anything Sacred?” essay 5 in Is Nothing Sacred?, 72)

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If what has hitherto been defined as religion (including its descendants, interfaith dialogue, and the “new spiritualities”) is for us intellectually dead and barren as a motive for cultural religiousness, the question arises: Why not quietly drop religion from human life? For Cupitt this seems inconceivable. While minimal justifications for science and technology and for morality are obvious, what does religion offer human life if what it has been hitherto cannot stand up under current scrutiny and too often can be condemned as life-denying? Why persist with religion at all? Cupitt’s response is that it answers “the great questions of life.” These questions exercise the common mind—language—even after everything is said and done in the critique of traditional religion. Such questions are not eliminable as answerless even after postmodernist anti-realism. Without pretending to completeness, such questions include: • Why are we here? • What is the point of it all? • Does anything matter at all? • Does God exist? What is ultimate reality? • Is death the end? • What are we? Where did life or existence come from? • Why is there not just nothing?16 In such questions Cupitt sees the invitation to religion persisting in ordinary life even after postmodernism, secularization, and globalization. Answers to such questions take us into the religious. They are vital to life.17

That is, it is what is not there that interprets what is there: the old iconographies do not communicate religiously to us. So, to be authentically religious today, we cannot be nostalgic for the past—believers in heritage religion—or utter historicists locking religion into the past with no grip on the present. Rather, the notion of the abstract sacred learns the lessons of expressivism and the negative way, empties out subjectivism and romantic nostalgia and historicist urbane condescension towards the past, and instead communicates spiritual values authentically for us. 16  Don Cupitt, The Great Questions of Life (Farmington MN: Polebridge Press, 2005), chapter 7. 17  In A New Great Story (Farmington MN: Polebridge Press, 2011) he argues that religious ideas have historically made us what we are, humans-in-a-world because we are homines religiosi. The account in this book is incomplete, however, as an argument for sustaining religiousness without motivation such as that in the text.

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The importance of such questions of life’s meaning reflects Cupitt’s work on “ordinary language” around “life” and “meaning.”18 In the philosophy of the early 1990s anti-realism, reality is “flat,” there is no “meaning of life” or “meaning of it all” except the small local meanings we find in the expressive activities and public outpourings of our creatively being caught up in the details of life, one wonderful thing after another. But in his books of the last years of the 1990s, Cupitt argues that in the ordinary language of the ordinary person around the “meaning of life, the universe and everything,” there is a perfectly this-worldly way of thinking about the meaning of life and what being here is “all about,” a conception that coheres with the emerging secular, postmodern philosophical conception of “the real world” as “this world.” The language of “life” and “the life world” and such locutions as “gratitude for being alive” conceive life in roughly the role that the traditional God had occupied: from it all things flow, well up without pause, energizing existence with creative force and power as expressed in the only way we have of grasping it—in the forms of language and language-structured experience of being alive: in life we “live more and have our being.” Replacing “God,” the language of “life”—sometimes called “the fountain,” or “be-ing”19 by Cupitt—invites a new readiness on Cupitt’s part to countenance those older questions of meaning and other “great questions” of life. The fruit of this renewed openness to such questions demands, however, a new beginning for philosophy and for religion if we are to avoid simply making the same old mistakes of metaphysical realist thought and religion. It requires a new “pure religious thinking” free of the ghosts of traditional religion and consonant with the whole force of post-metaphysics and post-institutional religion.20

18  See The New Religion Of Life in Everyday Speech, The Meaning Of It All In Everyday Speech, both of 1999, and Kingdom Come in Everyday Speech and Philosophy’s Own Religion both of 2000. 19  See especially Don Cupitt, The Religion of Being (London: SCM Press, 1998); The Revelation of Being (London: SCM Press, 1998); and Philosophy’s Own Religion (London: SCM Press, 2000). 20  Don Cupitt, Emptiness and Brightness (Salem OR: Polebridge Press, 2001), 2ff and chapters 12–13.

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The New Religion of the Everyday and Buddhism The new thinking must be cautious about allowing the ghosts of old concepts to inform our new concepts, though without a pretense of invention ab initio.21 Answers to such great questions must take into account (a) the reality of globalization, and the consequent detraditionalization of human beings, and (b) the democratization of knowledge of all the world’s great religious traditions. In this spirit, it is instructive to observe that Cupitt understands himself as such a sampler of the great religious traditions. In a number of places,22 in the course of discussing religious identity or interfaith relations, Cupitt characterizes himself as a radical Christian who has affinities with Judaism and Buddhism, apparently refusing to limit himself to any one exclusively, for there is no “essential Don Cupitt.” This kind of religious sampling, rather than assertion of religious identity, is now an aspect of the way forward for religion as part of our life. This is a significant shift from his self-­ description in 1991 as moving “in a Christian Buddhist” description.23 Developing from 2001’s Emptiness and Brightness to more recently published works, Cupitt’s formulation of his proposed new religion of “everyday life”  have found a number of expressions. Cupitt describes Emptiness and Brightness as the “most Buddhist” of his recent books.24 Therefore, we will focus our estimation of the Buddhism in Cupitt’s outlook there. In Emptiness and Brightness, Cupitt conveniently summarizes his view in five headings.25 I will comment briefly on each. These features of his views persist stably to the present as responses to the great questions of life or constraints on acceptable answers. 1. Universal Contingency: Invoking Nagarjuna favorably against Aquinas, Cupitt notes that the pervasiveness of contingency in creation is common ground between the West and the East. Where they differ is that whereas in the West this radical contingency frightens and horrifies us to the point of needing to invent and argue for a ground of necessity for this contingent world, Nagarjuna leads the  Cf Don Cupitt, Above us Only Sky (Santa Rosa CA: Polebridge, 2008) chapters 22 and 23.  For example, see “Learning to Live without ‘Identity,’” in Don Cupitt, Radical Theology (Farmington MN: Polebridge Press, 2006), essay 5 (written 1997), 42. 23  “The Human Condition: Diagnosis and Therapy” in Cupitt, Is Nothing Sacred? essay 6. 24  www.doncupitt.com/don-cupitt, accessed August 27, 2022, section 3 last paragraph. 25  Cupitt, Emptiness and Brightness, 34. 21 22

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East in seeing the religious value of the emptiness contingency implies. We can learn to love it as we understand Buddhism better. The death of God in the West has forced this upon us now, Cupitt urges. There is only contingency: our knowledge in science, in history, in everything, all our morality, our political ideas and religions are the contingent outcomes of contingent processes perhaps governed by laws that are themselves utterly contingent. There is no depth, height, or inwardness: all is surface and all could be utterly different from what it is.26 2. Empty Radical Humanism: This emptiness has been underwritten by recent cultural development in the second Industrial Revolution: “a world cannot be a world without someone or some group whose world it is and we see now that what we used to think of as the world is in fact just our world: we know no other.” “World building is indeed our characteristic activity.”27 But this focus on human beings to understand what the world, this kind of humanism, is not that found among the ancient Greeks or in Nietzsche: “Our humanism is … not Greek and heroic but Christian, domestic and humanitarian.” Again, “The Buddhist tradition has on the whole done very well without autobiography, without the cult of personality, and without the hero worship of the genius in the Western manner.”28 It emphasizes an ethics of solidarity and equality, stands uncompromisingly against discrimination, in solidarity with the weak and afflicted, and mindful of the fragility of virtue and goodness in this life. . Attention to Be-ing/Life: The concern here is for the ‘religious 3 object,’ what God was in traditional religion. Do we need such an object for religious sensibility? The religious response to the world, to life, seems to be able to be directed at diverse objects, and people can find themselves being religious about anything, including “personal relationships, about morality, about love and babies, about Nature, about art and about life.”29 And as old religious practices like prayer, worship, contemplation, and meditation are in danger of disappearing entirely from people’s lives, perhaps no religious object  Ibid., chapter 7.  Ibid., 44. 28  Ibid., 45. 29  Ibid., 46. 26 27

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is required at all. Cupitt demurs from this thought. Why becomes clearer under the next heading and is developed at length in The Religion of Being.30 He argues for directing religious attention in some particular direction rather than another, though not exclusive of those already mentioned. Among the three alternative religious objects he considers, he includes God conceived as the personification of love and Kantian guiding spiritual ideal; Heideggerian be-­ ing; and life as understood in ordinary language and most helpfully expressed in creative fiction and art. He decides on the latter two, noting the risk of reproducing an old dichotomy between “the god of the philosophers” and the “god of faith”: between the meditative, reflective attention to “animals or plants or gentle natural motions to help ourselves to attend to the passing of time in as narrow a specious present as we can manage. We try to listen to Be-ing …” and “those who love Life are young, active and noisy.”31 Cupitt seems to feel no compulsion to decide here. . Solar Living: In characterizing attention to be-ing, Cupitt suggests 4 that the new religion needs a new word to evoke the sense this religion invites by attention to Be-ing. Life or Be-ing, as the restlessly upsurging flux of energy and creativity taken up by language and its potential forms, is the new religion’s response to the unhappiness of our existence, the unhappiness informing the great questions of life. There is something wrong with us. Transience and finitude induce fear and meaninglessness in us; our weightlessness induces a sense of lack of recognition and the prospect of oblivion. What is the answer? Part of it is to learn to see life, Be-ing, as opportunity rather than loss: Cupitt suggests in passing that life is “happortunity”: that “hap can really be very happy.” Solar living is his prescription for giving this thought form: On this solar and theatrical view of the self, the best way to live is to live as fully as we can, and to put on as good a show as we can. Because the self becomes itself only in passing, it lives a dying life. It lives by dying all the time, so that the harder we live, the more death simply disappears as any 30  Don Cupitt, The Religion of Being (London: SCM Press, 1998), especially chapters 7 and 8. 31  Cupitt, Emptiness and Brightness, 48.

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kind of separate problem. Solar living is eternal life: it overcomes the traditional polarity of life and death.32

Echoes of Dogen and St John the Evangelist are unmistakable here. 5. Humanitarian Ethics: The new religion of everyday life is centered on an ethical outlook that is humanitarian. Cupitt connects this to the Kingdom ethics he finds in “the historical Jesus” and to the “dispersal of God” in the death of God emergent from the collapse of dogmatic religion, though utterly consistent with the notion of Incarnation in the Christian understanding of God.33 This ethical outlook has the following central features:

a. It admits that morality has no ground in anything objective or extra-human; b. It differs from the Utilitarian tradition in avoiding appeal to anything psychological or culturally variable such as ideas of pleasure, welfare, or harm; c. Its moral universality is found in its fiercely anti-discriminatory posture, bringing moral focus on our shared “co-humanity” and others’ evident need; and d. Its social outlook offers the maximal degree of spiritual freedom to “posit one’s own values, tell one’s own story and build one’s own world.”34



Cupitt devotes greater attention to the elaboration of this ethical outlook of the new religion of everyday life in Creative Faith (2016). This ethical outlook and the spirituality of secondariness coalesce to form a coherent picture of a religious sensibility. How much of this is especially Buddhist? We have mentioned some important “Buddhist notes” already. To these we could add several more. For instance, Cupitt connects the outsidelessness of language to his understanding of Nagarjuna’s notion of sunyata and the unity of samsara and  Ibid., 51.  Don Cupitt, Creative Faith: Religion as a Way of Worldmaking (Salem OR: Polebridge Press, 2016) chapter 2 and “Is Anything Sacred?” especially pp. 66f: “In Christ the divine has completely and finally disappeared into the human, so that there no longer is and no longer needs to be any separate sacred realm … it must be dispersed into humanity at large.” 34  Cupitt, Emptiness and Brightness, 53. 32 33

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nirvana. He also argues that the pervasiveness of language and world construction echoes themes of conventionalism in Madhyamika Buddhism. And he connects the unreality of any Cartesian inner realm of the mind to the no-self view in Buddhism. On the other hand, the similarities of Cupitt’s ideas to some doctrines of certain types of Buddhism go back to his early days. The early Cupitt’s spirituality of self-transcendence is not “at home in this world” and transformation is austere and rigorous (comparable to Theravada), but Cupitt does not talk about self-extinction as the outcome of this spiritual discipline but of being “in the love of God” (quite unlike many kinds of Buddhism). The postmodern Cupitt argues for an epistemological constructivism about reality (rather like Yogacara and perhaps Nagarjuna) but has no truck with “two-truth” views (unlike Madhyamika). He is more candid about this life being “the last life we have in which to be saved,” a point very different from the traditional rebirth teaching of Buddhism. And although he talks about something like “self-extinction” in death (echoing Buddhist themes), this Cupitt is more deeply at home and joyous about this world and speaks of being united with God in death (less like some versions of Buddhism). Again, Buddhism per se is an East Asian/ Indic religion and, as such, heir to similar difficulties to traditional Christianity as a regional or local culture-bound religion, of which Cupitt wants no part. Perhaps less tellingly, Cupitt’s conception of the mystical and religious happiness in this life explicitly cuts itself off from standard Buddhist conceptions of meditative and enlightened consciousness by insisting that mysticism is a form of writing and no kind of inner “experience” at all. Cupitt clearly inherits from Christianity a focus on individual salvation, a yearning for an object of religious sensibility, a socially engaged egalitarian ethics (also aligned with Jewish religious sensibility), along with notions of living in dying or passing away and the sacred in this life, and a persistent admiration for and relationship with the figure of Jesus.35 There is very little that Cupitt writes that does not reflect the importance to him of the philosophical debates concerning the issues that exercise him. And it is the concern he has with these matters that drives the ways in which he connects or does not connect aspects of his thinking to Buddhist ideas. He is not concerned to defend Buddhism or to build bridges between 35  Indeed, in A New Great Story, Cupitt argues that Jesus represents the highpoint in the evolution of religion in human society, bringing divinity into human life.

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Buddhism and Christianity or the new religion of the everyday. As he later says, he is a sampler of Buddhism. Therefore, though the similarities between his ideas and aspects of Buddhism are strong and important to him, this Buddhist fingerprint is less direct than a consequence of Cupitt’s philosophical development and where it takes him in relation to his Christian background. He is happy to accept the points of contact with Buddhism resulting from where the argument leads him. But that is not his primary target. That said, if there is an aspect of the Cupittian new religion that has any kind of systematic relation to Buddhism, it is the positive account of the spiritual life in terms of religious joy in this life.36 It is not hard to understand why what he calls “religious joy” is crucial to the new religion of the everyday. With Buddhism, Cupitt’s picture shares a desire for religious happiness in the face of life’s suffering and horrors, not calling upon a God or an inner soul/atman to satisfy it. Such this-worldly religious joy in response to the outpouring of life taken up in creative expressions of life in linguistic thought forms that we immediately ‘let go of’ as they disappear in transience makes a virtue of the lack of permanence and transcendence that, as something feared, had been the source of anxiety, fear, and suffering for traditional religion. This spirituality of secondariness is wrought with “no authorities, no Scriptures and no (prescribed) rites),” fitting coherently with strands of Zen ideas of enlightenment abstracted from their traditional doctrinal associations. As a whole, the new religion of the everyday invites such ideas. In this sense, Cupitt’s achievement could be seen as a philosophical religious spirituality of Western Zen.

Conclusion The aim of this chapter has been to expound Cupitt’s developed alternative to traditional religion: the new religion of the everyday. I have tried to bring out a number of ways in which it is a rival to various contemporary efforts to sustain religious sensibility after the decline of traditional religious forms, in particular to interfaith dialogue and new religious movements emphasizing “spirituality.” On this basis, I have argued that it is the spirituality of secondariness, or the mystical properly understood, that has the most substantial connection with coherence Buddhism. Cupitt’s 36  See particularly the account of religious joy in Emptiness and Brightness chapters 7 and 14 et passim; and the account of happiness in Mysticism after Modernity chapter 9.

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thinking has been driven by his philosophical reasoning. While happy to accept where this leads to conclusions similar to Buddhist ideas, the conception of religious joy in this life has strong systematic relationships of coherence with strands of Zen enlightenment without authorities, without Scriptures, and without rites.

Bibliography Cowdell, Scott. Atheist Priest? Don Cupitt and Christianity. London: SCM Press, 1988. Cupitt, Don. A Great New Story. Farmington MN: Polebridge Press, 2011. ———. Creation out of Nothing. London: SCM Press, 1990. ———. Is Nothing Sacred? The Non-Realist Philosophy of Religion: Selected Essays. New York: Fordham University Press, 2002. ———. Life Lines. London: SCP Press. 1986. ———. Mysticism after Modernity. Oxford: Blackwell, 1998a. ———. Only Human. London: SCP Press, 1984a. ———. Philosophy’s Own Religion. London: SCM Press, 2000a. ———. Philosophy’s own Religion. London: SCM Press, 2000b. ———. Radical Theology. Farmington MN: Polebridge Press, 2006. ———. Taking Leave of God. London: SCM Press, 1980. ———. The Last Philosophy. London: SCM Press, 1995. ———. The Long-Legged Fly. London: SCP Press, 1987. ———. The Religion of Being. London: SCM Press, 1998b. ———. The Revelation of Being. London: SCM Press, 1998c. ———. The Sea of Faith, London: SCP Press, 1984b. ———. The World to Come. London: SCM Press, 1982. Hyman, G., ed. New Directions in Philosophical Theology, Abingdon, UK: Ashgate Publishing, 2004. Knitter, P. & Haight, R. Jesus & Buddha: Friends in Conversation, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, 2015. McGhee, M. Spirituality for the Godless: Buddhism, Humanism and Religion, Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, UK, 2021. ———. Transformations of Mind: Philosophy as a Spiritual Practice, Cambridge University Press: Cambridge UK, 2000. https://www.doncupitt.com/don-­cupitt, accessed August 27, 2022.

CHAPTER 9

Transcending the Letter, Awakening the Mind: Maximos the Confessor and Tsong kha pa and the Challenge of Textual Supersessionism Thomas Cattoi

How should we approach a sacred text? How many different interpretations can a particular text sustain? And even more intriguingly, can the interpretation of a sacred text change over time? Are there interpretations that are valid at a certain moment in history that ought to be discarded at a later stage? The purpose of this chapter is to cast light on some of these questions and reflect on the nature and purpose of the exegesis of a sacred text in the broader context of spiritual practice. In the next few pages, I will compare and contrast the approach to scriptural hermeneutics developed by the Byzantine author Maximos the Confessor (580–662) and the strategies of textual hermeneutics articulated by the Tibetan master Tsong

T. Cattoi (*) Jesuit School of Theology, Santa Clara University, Berkeley, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_9

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kha pa (1357–1419).1 This chapter will bring into conversation these two distinct approaches to lectio divina, highlighting some points of contact as well as a number of irreducible differences between their two approaches. This comparison will help us gain a deeper appreciation of the way sacred texts “function” within different religious traditions, with a special attention to the role of allegorical interpretation in the context of spiritual practice. A good starting place to explore the Eastern Christian tradition of scriptural exegesis and its relevance for spiritual practice is the collection known as the Philokalia—the renowned anthology of theological and spiritual writings from the fourth to the fifteenth century that was compiled by Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and Makarios of Corinth in the second part of the 1700s, and was first published in Venice in 1786.2 In many cases, the compilers of this collection chose not to include works of specific authors in their entirety, choosing rather to include passages that are directly relevant to the challenges and the demands of monastic practice or are particularly striking because of their insight into the spiritual life. For instance, the writings of Maximos the Confessor (580–662), one of the most important Greek theologians of the post-Chalcedonian period, occupy a great portion of the second volume of the English translation of the Philokalia, but after two works whose attribution to Maximos is not questioned—the Four Centuries on Charity and the Two-Hundreds Texts on Theology and the Economy—readers will find a motley collection of four “centuries” known as Various Texts on Theology, the Divine Economy, and Virtue and Vice.3 These writings were not penned by Maximos in this form but are a collage of excerpts from Maximos’ correspondence and from his two major works, the Quaestiones ad Thalassium and the 1  The literature on Maximos is immense and constantly growing. A useful starting point is Andrew Louth, Maximus the Confessor (London: Routledge, 1996), as well as Hans Urs von Balthasar, Cosmic Liturgy: The Universe According to Maximus the Confessor, trans. Bryan Daly SJ. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2003). A recent biographical work on Tsong kha pa, meant for the contemporary reader, is Thupten Jinpa, Tsong kha pa: A Buddha in the Land of Snows (Boulder, Colo.: Shambala, 2019). See also Thomas Cattoi, Divine Contingency: Theologies of Divine Embodiment in Maximos the Confessor and Tsong kha pa (Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias Press, 2009). 2  For these three works, see Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and Makarios of Corinth, The Philokalia. Vol. 1–4. Trans. G.E.H.  Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware. (London: Faber & Faber, 1979–92). The fifth and final volume is still forthcoming. 3  For these three works, see Philokalia, Vol. 2, 48–113; 114–163; 164–284.

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Ambigua—two works that offer exhaustive exegetical analysis of specific passages from the Scriptures, but also from the writings of earlier Fathers.4 In presenting this mélange to their readers, the Philokalia’s compilers often omit the Confessor’s more daring speculative passages and focus and present us instead with his reflection on the different stages of spiritual growth, as well as the centrality of the incarnation in setting the parameters of our inner life. Engagement with sacred Scripture is the backbone of Maximos’ speculative vision, and it provides the foundational structure for his spiritual theology. Maximos’ exegetical vision is marked by a strong belief in the unity of Old and New Testament as a coherent witness of God’s salvific plan rooted in the mystery of the divine economy. Early pre-Nicene authors such as Clement or Origen, writing at a time when no scriptural canon had yet been established, sought to establish continuity between the strong affirmations of God’s unity in the Septuagint and the intimations of divine plurality scattered throughout the Gospels and the other textual witnesses of the new dispensation.5 The author of De Principiis found the ultimate organizing principle of scripture in the person of the eternal Word, whose presence in the cosmos also resonated in the pages of the Septuagint and of the Gospels.6 The ongoing engagement with the sacred text—what later Medieval authors would call lectio divina—introduces the reader to a knowledge, and indeed a familiarity with the divine—something, however, requiring and presupposing the achievement of an inner condition of dispassion or radical detachment. In the writings by Maximos compiled by the editors of the Philokalia, there is an inextricable connection between the practice of the virtues and intellectual purification, on one hand, and the ability to discern the Christocentric meaning of scripture on the other. As the mind becomes more alert to the presence of the Word in the text, the text discloses its inner secrets, luring us ever more deeply into the mystery of the divine. 4  For these two works in full, see Maximos the Confessor, On Difficulties in the Church Fathers, Vol. 1 and 2. Ed. and trans. by Nicholas Constas. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014); Quaestiones ad Thalassium. Ed. by C. Laga and C. Steel. CCSV. (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols Publishers, 2018). 5  One of the best introductions to the topic is Charles Kannengiesser, ed., Handbook of Patristic Exegesis (Atlanta, Ga.: SBL Publications, 2016). 6  On Origen’s exegesis, see Jean Daniélou, Origen, trans. by Walter Mitchell (Wipf and Stock, 2016), 138–74.

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The relationship between the practice of the virtues—which plays a propaedeutic role, but never ceases to accompany the individual’s spiritual trajectory—the purification of the intellect, and the interpretation of Scripture is outlined in some detail in the writings making up the Fifth Century of Various Texts. The century’s opening statement claims that “through the diligent practice of the virtues the natural intelligence is raised towards the intellect.”7 While heeding the passions results in the intellect’s attachment to sensual pleasure, virtue is a stable and “utterly dispassionate (apathetikos)” state of righteousness.8 In the first few verses, Maximos distinguishes between a natural law, which is operative whenever the intellect is not controlled by the senses and which seeks to bring into harmony all people’s voluntary relationships with each other; a written law, which turns our natural disposition toward goodness into a habit by way of explicit commands to be heeded under pain of punishment; and finally, a law of grace, which calls us to imitate God and makes it possible for us to be deified by grace. The incarnation of the Word is the moment when this highest law is disclosed to humanity, as Christ taught not only to help each other naturally—the law of nature—and to love others spiritually as ourselves—the written law—but also to be more concerned for others than for ourselves—the law of grace. This last stage transforms nature without changing its character—a claim Maximos develops in other works where he explores the correspondence between Christ’s assumption of humanity and our partial acquisition of the divine properties.9 After introducing this three-tiered distinction, however, the century’s focus shifts to the ongoing struggle between ignorance and knowledge and the role of the Spirit in bringing about insight into the divine mystery. Using language that would not be out of place in a treatise by Nāgārjuna, Maximos tells us that “the things men value lack being; they only seem to exist because of mistaken judgement, but have no principle of existence at all.”10 As the diligent cultivation of the virtues sweeps away the soot of the passions from the intellect, the latter turns into a pure, resplendent mirror receiving “knowledge of divine things.”11 Our intellect is in fact said to be “formless and without any specific quality of expression,” so that its form  Maximos the Confessor, Fifth Century of Various Texts, 1.  Ibid., 2. 9  See the discussion of the Transfiguration in Amb. 10 discussed in Louth, Maximus the Confessor, 115–9. 10  Fifth Century of Various Texts, 16. 11  Ibid., 17. 7 8

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is either acquired through the ignorance caused by the passions, or through the knowledge brought by the virtues. Rather than the three laws introduced earlier, Maximos now talks of the law of the flesh and the law of the spirit; anyone who has fallen away from the divine law will be controlled by the senses and will be unable to discern the divine. At the same time, Maximos distinguishes two levels within the divine law—a literal meaning, which steers us from a propensity to pleasure, and a spiritual level, which guides us toward a knowledge of the divine mystery. Failing to grasp the literal meaning of the law will ensure that we will be “preoccupied with thoughts of bodily indulgence” and actually be unable to value “anything except that which is subject to decay.”12 Maximos references some readers of Scripture who allegedly convince themselves that the sacrifices, “sabbaths” and “celebrations of the new moon” specified in the law “have been instituted by God for the sake of physical license” and thereby “gleefully accept gluttony as a gift from God” (24–5).13 While a literal observance of the law would save us from pursuing only what is temporal, however, the real significance of the law lies in its spiritual meaning, which alone can bring about knowledge of God. This is why anyone who does not believe that the Scriptures are “spiritual,” while unaware of his lack of spiritual knowledge, actually “wastes away with hunger.” In his great work De Principiis, Origen had drawn the distinction between a literal reading of scripture, a tropological or ethical reading, and a spiritual reading, the last being grounded in a Christological vision that understood the old dispensation as having a provisional and propaedeutic role.14 While echoing Origen’s distinction, Maximos seems at times to blend the literal and the ethical meaning, at times stating that the letter of scripture is what offers ethical guidance, but also suggesting that a mere reliance on the literal meaning thwarts spiritual progress. Since the ultimate purpose of scripture is to bring about our deification, while its ethical injunctions are only preparatory, the paradoxical conclusion is that if one follows exclusively the letter of the law, one does not truly nourish one’s soul with the practice of the virtues. What we are called to do is to “grasp the inner principles of created beings” which reveal God’s ultimate plan  Ibid., 24.  Ibid., 24–25. It is alas impossible to determine which specific group is intended here— perhaps some Christians who had reverted to Old Testament practices; or, like other authors of the time, willfully misrepresented Jewish religious obligations as inferior and “carnal.” 14  Origen, De Principiis, Book 4, 2–4 (PG 11, 341–50). 12 13

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for the universe and therefore “let us rejoice in hope of a future deification.” In other works by Maximos, the “inner principles” that one can discern in scripture as one progresses spiritually are explicitly delineated as the “imprints” or “seeds” of the divine Logos, who scatters markers of his divine presence throughout the cosmos, but also in the pages of scriptures.15 Progress beyond the letter of the text discloses its ultimate Christocentric character, thereby enabling us to discern the Word’s presence in creation. The move from the literal to the spiritual meaning, scripture entails a process of intellectual, but also sensory purification, as all engagement of the created order entails “an impassioned and unnatural association of the senses with sensible things subject to time and change.” A spiritual reading of scripture will destroy our “subjection” to sense perception and the outward form of things while allowing us to feast on the higher principles and thoughts found in natural contemplation. Those feeding on the outward meaning of the text shall condemn themselves to “eat from the earth,” like the serpent in Genesis, whereas those grasping the spiritual meaning feed on the “celestial and angelic bread” that is the soul of scripture. 16 When the law is understood solely according to the letter, you prefer figurative representations of the truth to the truth itself; those who aspire to contemplate the truth itself must wean themselves away from the lures of the created order by way of natural contemplation (theōria). Maximos compares those who leave behind creation and turn their gaze to the divine mystery to King David, who after defeating King Saul in battle put to death all descendants of his opponent lest they threaten his claim to the throne. In this perspective, the passage which tells us that David ordered “to hang them before the Lord” (2 Sam. 21: 9) indicates that we must cast away our preoccupation with the letter of scripture and the harm from which we suffer as a result.17 Where Maximos differs from Origen is in the fact that for the master from Alexandria, the spiritual meaning of scripture built on the literal and the ethical meaning, but he did not erase them or view them with suspicion; indeed, for some individuals, heeding the ethical injunction of the 15  On the cosmic presence of the Logos, see Thomas Cattoi, “Liturgy as cosmic transformation: Maximos’ Mystagogia and the Chalcedonian redemption of difference,” in Pauline Allen and Bronwen Neill, eds., Oxford University Handbook of Maximus the Confessor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 414–37. 16  Fifth Century of Various Texts, 35. 17  Ibid., 36–8.

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text may be the best possible response to the scriptural text, in consideration of their level of spiritual development. For Maximos, however, even a consistent obedience to the ethical injunctions of the text eventually constitutes a betrayal of the ultimate purpose of the text if it does not move toward an appreciation of its spiritual import. Indeed, he claims that the law eventually destroys those who apprehend it solely in a literal way, because they may overestimate the importance of things “brought into existence for man’s sake,” while “remaining ignorant of Him on whose account they were created.”18 This inability to proceed to the spiritual level of the text is likened to the Hebrews’ continuation of the animal sacrifices in the temple until its destruction—an attachment to a practice which did play an important role during a specific period of salvation history, but which according to the church fathers has now been superseded by the one sacrifice of Christ, and whose continuation now would be reprehensible and offensive to God. Rather, we should view the sacrifices that scripture mentions as the slaughter of the passions or the “offering up of our natural powers.” In this perspective, in line with the three-tiered understanding of the soul typical of Neoplatonic anthropology, the ram indicates the intelligence or nous (Lev. 5: 15), the bull represents the higher “incensive” power (Ex. 19: 36), and the goat the lower “vegetative” desires (Num. 15: 27).19 While the reconfiguration of interiority under the leadership of the nous is already introduced as the ultimate purpose of practice in the writings of earlier spiritual masters, in the vision of Maximos the Confessor this approach is outlined in a strong Christological—indeed, Christomorphic— perspective. The incarnate Christ is presented as the one instance of fully ordered humanity, where the passions are subordinate to the intellect and are able to serve their proper telos; the narrative of Christ’s temptation in the desert is sometimes read as an allegorical representation of the power of ascetic practice to rein in disordered desires, ranging from lower, physiological yearnings to higher aspirations for wealth and power and finally to the intellect’s temptation of pride. Maximos’ Commentary on Our Father, for instance, presents the spiritual life as a simultaneous pursuit of theōria and praxis in imitation of Christ’s life.20 An engagement of the text of  Ibid., 46.  Ibid., 50. 20  Maximos the Confessor, “Commentary on Our Father” in George Berthold, Maximus the Confessor: Selected Writings (Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1985), 99–126. 18 19

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scripture is the strategy of choice to discern how we are to follow Christ’s example in our daily lives; as such, whenever one penetrates behind the literal meaning of the text under the guidance of the Spirit, one is finally thinking with the mind of Christ. In this perspective, the highest theōria that is attained through the practice of the virtues is the contemplation of the face of the Lord, who will bestow on us “spiritual knowledge of divine things.”21 Obeying the commandments merely out of fear of punishment or because ethical behavior can bring some kind of advantage to us in the material world will eventually engender sin. The paradoxical conclusion is that heeding the ethical demands of scripture should eventually lead us to a point where these demands are left behind; those wishing to grasp the divine must “destroy the outward and evanescent interpretation of the Law, subject to time and change” and aspire to think with the mind of Christ.22 The endpoint of this simultaneous process of ascetic practice and textual engagement is the “coming to rest” of the individual in the embrace of the Logos—Maximos’ way to articulate Christologically the trajectory of the practitioner from the disordered movement of the intellect and the passion to a graced progression in virtue and discernment. In the old dispensation, Pentecost was the feast of the giving of the law—the day that Moses had received the Torah on Mount Sinai, laying the foundations for the new covenant between God and the people of Israel. In the new dispensation, Pentecost is the day when the Spirit descends on the church gathered in the upper room, inaugurating the new economy of salvation and ratifying the promise that God shall always assist his church. Maximos views the move from the old to the new Pentecost as the move from the world of the law, which is transitory, to a world where nature as a whole— the created order—is united with the Logos, in a union where “there is no slightest trace of time or generation.” The Logos, replacing the temple sacrifices, atones for our sins and deifies our nature by the gift of grace; in this way, he bestows immortality and “immutability” on humankind, so that, instead of dwelling in a temporary booth for seven days (Lev. 23, 42), we can now live in the house of the Lord forever.23 This approach to textual hermeneutics is of course not without its detractors; indeed, numerous contemporary scholars who are steeped in a  Fifth Century of Various Texts, 32.  Ibid., 37. 23  Ibid., 49. 21 22

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historical-critical engagement with the text of sacred scripture often resist the supersessionist thrust of interpreters such as Maximos the Confessor and countless other writers from the early church. On one hand, the demotion of the Old Testament to a preparatory status is seen as theologically problematic, perpetuating the enseignment du mépris toward Judaism that was condemned in the wake of the Second Vatican Council. On the other hand, the modern emphasis on authorial intentionality is at odds with an exegetical approach that uncovers meanings in a text that the original author could never have envisaged, either because of chronological location of the text in question or because the implications of the new interpretation are incompatible with the theological worldview of the author’s original view. These are complex issues that cannot be addressed in detail in the context of such a short essay. At the same time, it is important to remember that Maximos’ exegetical claims are purely theological, seeking to develop a cogent rational for inner development within a religious tradition; as such, they can in no way be used to justify an attitude of antisemitism. In addition, we must acknowledge that Maximos adopts an attitude toward the text that does not erase authorial intent—indeed, he does recognize the value of the literal meaning of scripture in its own appropriate context—but supplements it with a multi-layered structure of discernment that uncovers new horizons of significance and actually secures the enduring relevance of a sacred text beyond the limited horizon of its original context. Let us now move to consider the work of Tsong kha pa (1357–1419), whose role in the history of Tibetan Buddhist thought is analogous to that of Thomas Aquinas in Western Christianity. Tsong kha pa’s own formation was strongly shaped by the study of the seminal Madhyamaka writers from India such as Nāgārjuna (c. 150–250 CE) and Candrakı ̄rti (600–650), whose texts had been translated from Sanskrit and now circulated widely across Tibet. Tsong kha pa’s work as a thinker and monastic reformer came at an important juncture in the history of Tibetan Buddhism, when internal debates between adherents of different philosophical schools and different monastic orders or lineages caused significant doctrinal tensions that were reflected in the socio-political spheres.24 While of course 24  For an introduction to Madhyamaka, see Jan Westerhoof, Nāgārjuna’s Madhyamaka: A Philosophical Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); for the debates on the interpretation of Madhyamaka around the time of Tsong kha pa, see Sara McClintock and George Dreyfus, eds., The Svātantrika-Prāsangika Distinction: What Difference Does a Difference Make? (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2002).

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profoundly committed to the Madhyamaka school of thought, Tsong kha pa was also first and foremost a Buddhist practitioner who developed his speculative vision within a broader Mahāyāna context—a tradition that emphasized the unity of samsara and nirvāna. In this perspective, while all sentient beings live in the maelstrom of ignorance and attachment, they are at the same time dwelling in the reality of enlightenment.25 As such, the purpose of spiritual practice is not to move from one ontological dimension to another, but to recover an awareness of the intrinsically nirvanic character of our condition, and simultaneously of the natural order as a whole; the enlightened state is not understood as a flight from the realm of the senses, but rather as a distinct mode of engagement with reality, where every aspect of the conventional world is invested with a propaedeutic power and becomes a vehicle of the grace of all Buddhas and bodhisattvas. The specifically Madhyamaka approach to the distinction between samsara and nirvāna tends to conflate the former with the conventional realm of phenomena that embraces and sustains our daily lives, with their relentless chain of causes and effects, whereas the latter is described as ultimate reality. On one hand, ultimate reality is characterized by emptiness (s ́ūnyatā) and as such it transcends the web of causality of the phenomenal world. On the other hand, it should not be construed as an alternative dimension to conventional reality analogously to the Platonic distinction between the world of shadows and the world of ideas, but as two distinct perspectives on the same reality: the samsaric perspective is entangled in the net of co-dependent origination, whereas the nirvanic perspective views the world of causes and effects as a tool to help all sentient beings achieve awakening.26 What is distinctive about the bodhisattva path is that the purpose of practice in Mahāyāna is not merely to achieve enlightenment for oneself, but also to aid anyone mired in samsara reach the same goal. As such, the pursuit of wisdom buttresses the simultaneous pursuit of compassion, since a proper understanding of the nature of conventional reality is a necessary requirement to help sentient beings who are blinded by their passions.27 25  See Paul Williams, Mahāyāna Buddhism: The Doctrinal Foundations, 2nd ed. (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), 55–62. 26  Ibid., 63–83. 27  See John Makransky, Buddhahood Embodied (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1997), Ch. 5, 85–108.

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Tsong kha pa’s rendition of Madhyamaka philosophy is broadly in line with this tradition of thought, emphasizing the empty character of nirvāna, as well as the universal path to enlightenment that bodhisattvas are bound to embrace. At the same time, Tsong kha pa’s concern for the training of monastics, however, ensures that his reading of the philosophical tradition reflects his specific preoccupations, against the background of a worldview where the monastic path and the bodhisattva path are largely interchangeable. One major question that was raised was the role that the study of sūtra plays in the formation of monks; more specifically, how to deal with texts from the earlier tradition that appear to be in tension, or even to contradict, later Madhyamaka claims about the emptiness of ultimate reality. Tibetan Buddhism’s self-understanding as the highest “vehicle” within the tradition, building on the insights of earlier renditions of the dharma, meant that monks in training were exposed to writings that articulated earlier understanding of the Buddha’s teaching, and therefore distanced themselves considerably from the vision of Nāgārjuna and Candrakı ̄rti.28 A second, related question was the issue of the status of ethical teaching in the formation of monks—while a crucial matter for all sentient beings as well: if the purpose of practice is the achievement of nirvāna and the transcendence of phenomenal causality, how should one regard the status of texts offering moral guidance to practitioners who are just embarking on the path? Should one view writings, such as the extensive discussion of community life in the Pali canon, as having enduring value, or should they be labeled as geared toward individuals of a lower level of development? Tsong kha pa’s concern was that an emphasis on the primacy of emptiness would lead to an attitude of contempt toward earlier texts exploring the nature of conventional reality, thereby jeopardizing the claim of continuity between the Tibetan articulation of the dharma and earlier forms of Buddhism.29 In addition, this stance could easily degenerate into a kind of ethical indifferentism, where moral rules based on the web of causality that sustains our world are dismissed as mere projections. If everything is ultimately empty, why should one heed these ethical 28  This continues to be the case in the Tibetan traditional monastic education curriculum. See Tsenzhab Serkong Rinpoche II, The Gelug Monastic Education System, Study Buddhism, accessed on April 13, 2021, https://studybuddhism.com/en/advanced-studies/historyculture/monasteries-in-tibet/the-gelug-monastic-education-system. 29  This is the concern that motivated Tsong kha pa’s extensive discussion of ethical practice in the Great Treatise; see Tsong kha pa, Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path to Enlightenment (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion Publications, 2002).

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injunctions in the first place anyway? Enlightened individuals might feel justified in trespassing all moral rules. The paradoxical implications of the teaching of emptiness put forth by Madhyamaka thinkers threatened to unsettle the ethical edifice of monastic practice, and indeed put into question the pursuit of compassion that is the backbone of the bodhisattva path. In undertaking the composition of his work Legs bshad nying po (The Essence of True Eloquence), Tsong kha pa sets out to defend Madhyamaka thought from the accusation of nihilism and ethical antinomianism, trying to develop a hermeneutic strategy that positions the Tibetan rendition of this Indian tradition in perfect continuity with earlier schools of Buddhist thought, without at the same time downplaying its originality and ultimate normativity.30 Tsong kha pa turns to the Akṣayamatinirdes ́asūtra—which both Candrakı ̄rti and Bhāvaviveka regard as normative—and cites its distinction between definitive (nı ̄tārtha) and interpretable (neyārtha) scriptures. The latter teach “as if there were an owner in the ownerless” and use expressions such as “self,” “living being,” and “agent,” whereas the former affirm emptiness, nirvāna, codependent origination, and the absence of ultimate subjectivity.31 Tsong kha pa comments that this distinction echoes the Madhyamaka distinction between conventional and ultimate reality; teaching the dharma as if all aspects of the natural order were invested with an immutable ontological identity that would indicate a failure to penetrate the depths of the Buddha’s teaching, which posits the ultimate emptiness of all phenomena, as well as the absence of the mechanism of cause and effect. Some, Tsong kha pa observes, believe that the meaning of the term neyārtha is that students or readers have “to be led” (neya) from the conventional to the ultimate meaning. In fact, it is the process of interpretation that has “to be led,” as the ultimate meaning of the text which must be extracted from its assertion of a conventional perspective. In the Madhyamakāloka, Kamalaśı ̄la then says that nı ̄tārtha is that which is explained logically and in terms of the ultimate. Tsong kha pa clarifies this claim saying that, for 30  The chief scholarly translation of the Legs bshad nying po is found in Robert A.F. Thurman, The Central Philosophy of Tibet (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984). This version was a milestone in the introduction of Tibetan texts to a Western audience, though the translator’s choice to find English equivalents for all technical terms paradoxically makes the work less accessible to contemporary Buddhist studies scholars, who are more used to using the original Sanskrit or Pali terminology. 31  See Tsong kha pa’s discussion of Madhyamaka thought in Robert Thurman, The Central Philosophy of Tibet, 253.

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instance, all texts affirming the ultimate non-­existence of the cause-andeffect process are definitive in meaning, because what they claim is articulated in terms that are congruent with the Madhyamaka understanding of the emptiness of ultimate reality. While other authors claimed that only texts mentioning s ́ūnyatā explicitly could be regarded as nı ̄tārtha, Tsong kha pa argues that this is of secondary importance, as long as their speculative import is in line with the teaching of emptiness.32 Having established this conceptual hierarchy between texts, Tsong kha pa then moves on to say that neyārtha texts continue to play an important propaedeutic role in the context of monastic education. On one hand, advanced students will realize that the ultimate emptiness and lack of unchanging identity flow from the process of cause and effect that regulates conventional reality and will not misunderstand s ́ūnyatā as ground to reject conventional reality. On the other hand, however, there will be students of more limited intelligence who will be unable to hold on to the existence and the simultaneous non-existence of cause and effect, and as such will fall into the error of substantialism, or—more frequently—radical nihilism. As a result, it is better to teach neyārtha texts to these “less than superior” students, since they will not yet be receptive to the teaching of selflessness that undergirds nı ̄tārtha scriptures. Tsong kha pa concludes that as long as we are not able to understand all aspects of the dharma as flowing from the teaching of emptiness, it is necessary to lead students gradually, “by teaching partial aspects of selflessness,” and it is not proper to present universal s ́ūnyatā when it is misunderstood to mean that there is no basis for cause and effect, and therefore no ground for individual ethical practice.33 The notion of a gradation in the teaching of the dharma is a characteristic feature of all schools of Buddhism, but especially in the context of Mahāyāna that can be taken to encompass the Tibetan speculative tradition. The notion of upāyakaus ́alya (skillful means) affirms that truth can be articulated in different ways according to the receptivity of your audience and that elements of local cultures—such as the pre-Buddhist “Bon” religion of Tibet—can be appropriated and reinterpreted by the new tradition so as to make the latter more amenable to different recipients.34 This perspective dovetails with the notion of the turnings in the wheel of the  Ibid., 255.  Ibid., 256–7. 34  See Paul Williams, Mahāyāna Buddhism, 150–7. 32 33

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dharma that makes significant speculative and doctrinal shifts in the understanding of the Buddhist tradition; for instance, the shift from the Theravada understanding of awakening to the Mahāyāna notion of apratiṣt ̣ita nirvāna is conceptualized so as to retain the earlier, “imperfect” understanding of enlightenment as “skillful means” for less developed practitioners.35 The Madhyamaka notion of the two truths offers a speculative framework for this strategy, where previous articulations of the dharma are demoted to the conventional level, where they retain a kind of preparatory validity while serving as a stepping stone toward the “higher” understanding of the truth. Tsong kha pa cites Nāgārjuna’s claim in the Rājaparikathāratnāvalı ̄ (The Jewel Garland) that just as the grammarians make one read the grammar, the Buddha teaches the dharma according to the tolerance of the disciple. To some he teaches the dharma to refrain from unskillful acts, to some to accomplish virtue, to some as dependence on dualism, and to some as freedom from dualism; finally to some he teaches the profound, terrifying practice of enlightenment, whose essence is emptiness and compassion.36

Clearly, the pursuit of wisdom culminating in the perception of the groundlessness of reality, and the accompanying embrace of compassion seeking to help all sentient beings reach the same insight, is a practice that only few, very advanced practitioners are able to intellectually accept, but also to sustain. In this perspective, the lynchpin of the nı ̄tārtha texts— which Tsong kha pa identifies with his strict prasaṅgika interpretation of Madhyamaka—is a radical notion of s ́ūnyatā that is also conflated with the all-encompassing Buddha nature permeating the totality of the natural order. The culmination of the textual tradition is therefore an assertion that everything that exists is identical with the emptiness of Buddhahood, but is simultaneously an inescapable ladder structuring the ethical practice which reconfigures our inner life, but also our pursuit of compassion. The paradoxical implication of Tsong kha pa’s claim is that conventional reality is what enables us to practice the constitutive virtues of the bodhisattva vow, but this very practice eventually leads one to understand the utter groundlessness of this dimension and of the virtues which it supports. 35  On the tensions caused by the Mahāyāna redefinition of the notion of nirvāna, see John Makransky, Buddhahood Embodied, 345–62. 36  See Robert Thurman, The Central Philosophy of Tibet, 258.

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The juxtaposition of these two modes of hermeneutic practice underscores the pressing need of these two traditions to develop a strategy affirming the cogency and inner consistency of its speculative and spiritual trajectory despite significant instances of development and inner theological shifts. As mentioned above, the Christian tradition, receiving its sacred texts from Judaism and building a new, expanded canon, faces the challenge of reconciling the emphatic monotheism of the old dispensation and the trinitarian and incarnational theology of the New Testament literature. Similarly, the Buddhist tradition must account for the significant different interpretation of the teaching of nirvāna in the Theravada and the Mahāyāna tradition—where the former entails a radical rejection of ordinary reality, the latter encourages us to discover the enlightened nature of samsara and to help all sentient beings to achieve the same goal. The supersessionism embraced by church fathers such as Maximos the Confessor and the distinction between neyārtha and nı ̄tārtha texts outlined by Tsong kha pa in the Legs bshad nying po ensure that earlier stages in the history of a tradition retain a dimension of validity or legitimacy even as they are subordinated to more recent historical or conceptual developments. This hermeneutic standpoint is the pivot of a textual canon that would otherwise collapse under the weight of irreconcilable theoretical viewpoints. These obvious methodological parallelisms should not however conceal a number of significant differences between the two traditions. On one hand, the Christian notion of salvation of history as a forward-moving trajectory that culminates in the incarnation of the Logos and expects the final consummation of the cosmos in the eschaton is predicated on a linear understanding of time and on a vision of the universe as the gift of a creator God. On the other hand, the different school of Buddhism generally tend to eschew questions of protology and eschatology, preferring to focus on the question of awakening and its metaphysical and soteriological implications. In this perspective, the coming of the historical Buddha does not accomplish an ontological change in the texture of the universe but merely reveals a number of fundamental truths about suffering and the human predicament that were always present, though most sentient beings were unable to access them because of their ignorance and attachments. As a result, while the Christian notion of salvation entails an ontological transformation that starts in this life and is accomplished in the next, the Buddhist tradition views awakening as an instance of cognitive purification

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uncovering the reality of our own condition, in a cosmic flux that knows no clear beginning or end. The Christological character of Christian supersessionism entails of course that spiritual practice takes the form of imitatio Christi, the thrust of which always remains inherently relational—as we grow in the likeness of Christ, we also grow in our relationship with God. Creation is a gift characterized by plenitude—a gift that accompanies us on our path and is also destined to be eschatologically transfigured. The reality of s ́ūnyatā that undergirds the Buddhist notion of nirvāna entails instead that even when a “high” reading of the teaching of Buddha nature is operative, the goal of practice is still an awakening into the fundamental emptiness of the natural order. The dialectic of conventional and ultimate reality that sustains the neyārtha/nı ̄tārtha distinction, together with the Mahāyāna teaching of skillful means, ensures that Buddhist texts failing to teach Tsong kha pa’s particular version of Madhyamaka retain a preparatory validity for individuals of a lower level of development. The classical reading of the Christian church replacing the old Jewish dispensation, however, meant that the Christological interpretation of the Old Testament was now regarded as normative, whereas previous readings of the same text, which were legitimate during an earlier period of salvation history, are now regarded as defective and as no longer tenable. This conversation between two different traditions also casts light on the relationship between sacred texts and spiritual practice. It is interesting that Maximos should so forcefully downplay the moral dimension of scripture, to the point of claiming that a fixation with the ethical injunctions of a sacred text actually prevents one from realizing its actual transformative import. On one hand, this appears to dovetail with Tsong kha pa’s, and the broader Madhyamaka tradition’s, tendency to affirm the conventional character of ethical practice, and its subordination to the achievement of awakening. On the other hand, in the Christian tradition moral rules per se are not viewed as merely conventional; the issue at stake is rather the danger that they should obfuscate the Christological dimension of the sacred text. Perhaps Tsong kha pa would have agreed with these words from Maximos included by the Philokalia’s compilers in the Second Century of Various Texts:

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and compared with knowledge here, all spiritual knowledge in this world is an indistinct image: it contains a reflection of the truth, but not the truth itself as it is destined to be revealed (1 Cor. 13: 12).37

Bibliography Primary Texts Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and Makarios of Corinth. The Philokalia. Vol. 1–4. Trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware. London: Faber & Faber, 1979–92. Thurman, Robert A.F. The Central Philosophy of Tibet: a Study and Translation of Jey Tsong kha pa’s ‘Essence of True Eloquence.’ Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984.

Other Texts and Secondary Literature von Balthasar, Hans Urs. Cosmic Liturgy: The Universe according to Maximus the Confessor. Trans. Bryan Daly SJ. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2003. Cattoi, Thomas. Divine Contingency: Theologies of Divine Embodiment in Maximos the Confessor and Tsong kha pa. Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias Press, 2009. _____“Liturgy as cosmic transformation: Maximos’ Mystagogia and the Chalcedonian redemption of difference.” Oxford University Handbook of Maximus the Confessor. Eds., Pauline Allen and Bronwen Neill, 414–37. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Daniélou, Jean. Origen. Trans. Walter Mitchell. Eugene, Or.: Wipf and Stock, 2016. Jinpa, Thupten. Tsong kha pa: A Buddha in the Land of Snows. Boulder, Colo.: Shambala, 2019. Kannengiesser, Charles, ed. Handbook of Patristic Exegesis. Atlanta, Ga.: SBL Publications, 2016. Louth, Andrew. Maximus the Confessor. Early Christian Writers. London: Routledge, 1996. Makransky, John. Buddhahood Embodied. Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1997. Maximos the Confessor. On Difficulties in the Church Fathers. Vol. 1 and 2. Ed. and trans. by Nicholas Constas. Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014.

 Maximos the Confessor, Second Century of Various Texts, 47.

37

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_______. Quaestiones ad Thalassium. Ed. by C. Laga and C. Steel. CCSV. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols Publishers, 2018. _______. “Commentary on Our Father.” In Maximus the Confessor: Selected Writings. Ed. and trans. by Gorge Berthold, 99–126. Classics of Western Spirituality. Paulist Press, Mahwah, N.J., 1985. McClintock, Sara, and Dreyfus, George, eds. The Svat̄ antrika-Prāsangika Distinction: What Difference Does a Difference Make? Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2002. Origen. De Principiis. Book 4, 2–4 (PG 11, 341–50). Tsenzhab Serkong Rinpoche II. The Gelug Monastic Education System. https:// studybuddhism.com/en/advanced-­studies/history-­culture/monasteries-­in-­ tibet/the-­gelug-­monastic-­education-­system. Accessed April 13, 2021. Tsong kha pa. Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path to Enlightenment. Lam Rim chen mo. Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion Publications, 2002. Westerhoof, Jan. Nāgārjuna’s Madhyamaka: A Philosophical Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Williams, Paul. Mahāyāna Buddhism: The Doctrinal Foundations. 2nd ed. London and New York: Routledge, 2009.

CHAPTER 10

On The Rasā’il of the Ikhwān al Ṣafā’ and Bonaventure’s Mind’s Road into God: Tracing Mystical Pathways Toward Union with God and Healing the Earth—A Comparative Study of Excerpts from their “Books of the Creatures” Elizabeth Adams-Eilers

I Introduction People on a mystical path seeking unity with the One may experience incomparable peace, healing, and profound understanding of self and of other creatures. Such religious experiences could serve as topics for interreligious dialogue as participants share accounts of the journey and of life

E. Adams-Eilers (*) Temple University and Drexel University, Philadelphia, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_10

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changes effected along the way.1 After having experienced a vision of creation, of a diversity of living beings moving joyfully in massive procession toward the One, one such mystic understands that she encounters a mystery that words could never adequately describe. Yet, as time passes, she feels God’s perceived absence even more acutely than before the epiphany. Still, the memory of the grand procession is hers to treasure and to re-­ experience, and creation’s daily renewal intimates God’s presence2 in all things. Slowly, the experience saturates the mystic’s consciousness such that feelings of compassion and kinship with all creatures turn into convictions of truths.3 This chapter explores how two classical studies of the “Books of the Creatures,” one Muslim and one Christian, could be said to encourage human recognition of kinship, just relationships with other creatures as necessary, good, and true elements of the path toward union with God. In the tenth century C.E. or fourth century A.H., the “Ikhwān al Ṣāfa´” (the Brethren of Purity or the Sincere Brethren) wrote 52 Epistles from their home bases, the bustling cultural and intellectual centers of Basra and Baghdad, Iraq. These Epistles treat, among other topics, geography, music, logic, the science of souls, astronomy, companionship and belief, and the interest of this chapter, a Book of the Creatures, a fable found in Epistle #22 titled, “The Case of the Animals versus Man Before the King of the Jinn.” The Brethren write to share their encyclopedic knowledge and wisdom with initiates and other seekers, some who may explore the possibility of entrance into their community. The Brethren commend themselves as trustworthy guides as they describe a cosmology of emanation and return of all things to God as Source; transmitting their belief in 1  See Muhammad Shafiq and Mohammed Abu-Nimer, Interfaith Dialogue: A Guide for Muslims. London & Washington: The International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2011. “Spiritual dialogue, also called the dialogue of religious experience, often includes a variety of participants. This more philosophical dialogue is carried out through narratives and experiences that allow people who are more secure in their own religious beliefs and traditions to share their spiritual experiences (e.g., their experience of prayer or their private dialogue or experience with God). Over time, this form of dialogue is probably the most transformative for all participants” (38). 2  In What Is God? How to Think About the Divine, under the sub-topic “The Proximity of Mystery,” John Haught writes that the “self-absenting of God is essential in order to give the world its autonomy and human subjects their freedom. In this sense the absence and inobviousness of mystery may be understood as the other side of its intimacy with us.” (131) 33   See Daniel P.  Horan, OFM. All God’s Creatures: A Theology of Creation. Rowan & Littlefield, 2018. Especially, p. 85. “At its core, the kinship model of creation affirms that humanity’s relationship with the rest of creation is best described as familial rather than viewed as contractual” (in contrast to the dominion and stewardship model).

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this metaphysical vision as a truth of ultimate value is their goal for writing, as they repeatedly explain. Although many of their students practice Islam, others are Jewish, Christian, or perhaps Zoroastrian. One may wonder whether the saintly memory of Rabia of Basra lingers in their consciousness and contributes toward an inclusion of women in their audiences. A master of theology and philosophy at the University of Paris and minister general to about 30,000 friars of the Franciscan order,4 Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, Italy, writes The Mind’s Road into God in 1259  C.E. to teach University of Paris Franciscan students and others “certain ways in which the mind might ascend to God.”5 Attending the lectures in which the Mind’s Road was heard for the first time, and copied in notes, some students prepare to become preachers, priests, confessors, and professors. Other Franciscans may have gathered there too, men and women, some married, some not, reflecting the order of seculars that Francis officially founded by writing its first Rule in 1221. Even a king may stop by to hear the lectures. Historians know that Louis IX, King of France, occasionally attended. Bonaventure dedicates the largest portion of his treatise to the study of the Book of the Creatures (Chapters 1 and 2). Like the Brethren, Bonaventure’s cosmological vision is that of emanation: all reality emanates from the Source and returns to the Source, but for Bonaventure, “exemplarism” is part of the journey: Christ is the Exemplar who 4  St. Francis of Assisi, Italy, officially founded the order in 1209 C.E. after he convinced Pope Innocent III that his brothers could live the Gospel life (life as depicted in the Christian scriptures), moving from Gospel to life and from life to Gospel. Francis is known for his love of creatures, and for Roman Catholics, he is the patron saint of ecology. 5  See the curriculum of a typical student at the University of Paris in 1235 where Bonaventure and his students live and study (The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, 84–88). Bonaventure builds his narrative in the Book of the Creatures in Chaps. 2 and 3 from long-standing intellectual experience. He studied not only Latin texts that were early translations from Greek and Arabic, such as those from Aristotle, Plato, Plotinus, and Philo, but also classical texts translated from Greek into Arabic into Latin, manuscripts that his medieval student audiences know or will know: that is, Galen, Aristotle, Plato, Proclus, Ptolemy, and Euclid, among others. Not only do budding theologians read Augustine and Pseudo Dionysius but also Muslim and Jewish philosophers and theologians as well: that is, al-Kindi, Ibn Rushd (Averroes), Ibn Sina, and Maimonides. Since Jewish, Muslim, and Christian scholars translated these texts from Greek into Arabic three hundred years or more before the founding of the university, and other scholars translated them from Greek into Arabic to Latin later in Spain, the Ikhwān would also have known many of the classical sources studied at the University of Paris in 1235. Students and professors were exposed to a richly diverse world of manuscripts that they eagerly consumed.

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illuminates, who “pulls us out of darkness,” he writes, as we creatures return to God. Listening to lectures and prayerfully reading books of creation, books of scripture, and the “book” of one’s own soul are sources of viaticum (food for the journey). Bonaventure reminds student friars and others listening: of their primary aim in life: union with God and not book learning.6 Studying these texts side-by-side and moving back and forth from one to the other, I am attentive to the possibilities of cross-pollinations of ideas, of interpretative innovation, and of reception of insights and wisdom this practice may render. In “Reading Religiously Across Religious Borders: A Method for Comparative Study,” Francis X. Clooney reminds us that reading texts closely from different religious traditions reveals differences to be honored as such, in spite of a writer’s first inclination to harmonize them: “By long experience I know very well that even when a certain intuition of mutual openness and harmony enables me to put two texts together, still, closer reading shows inevitably that certain texts differ in many ways, ranging from theology and audience to structure and style so that all similarities must be placed in a context of enduring differences” (8).7 I write to suggest how reading two classics of mysticism together could be said to transform readers, to prompt them to envision peace as kinship with other creatures of God, to invite them to make peace with ourselves and with others of our species, to inspire human agency to save the planet. I greatly value the work of Francis X.  Clooney, SJ  who  contributes  toward my understanding of how  to read texts together so  that they complement each other and lend their wisdom and knowledge to us. I interpret these texts to: 1. investigate how a belief in a vision of creaturely kinship could be said to inform the mystical journey toward union with God; 2. describe how mystical pathways could generate conversations across religious boundaries, perhaps leading to interreligious understandings of structures of belief; 6  Of course, the irony here for modern-day scholars is that the text is so full of intellectual subject matter that it may take a handbook to wade through it! However, much of its content would have been familiar at least to thirteenth-century students at the University of Paris. 7  Religions 2018, 9, 42; https://doi.org/10.3390/rel9020042. www.mdpi.com/journal/religions.

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3. illustrate how the comparative studies of religious texts might work interreligiously as a theological method to assist readers in a transition from applying intuitive knowledge of the text and to the text to gaining insight and wisdom.

II The Brethren of Purity: Excerpts from Epistle #22—“The Case of the Animals versus Man Before the King of the Jinn” If the microcosm/macrocosm motif8 indicates that each human soul is an entire world in little, the Brethren’s fable, “The Case of the Animals,” suggests that a particular gathering of creatures in the court of the King of the Jinn in some fictional (but real) world represents the entire universe in little. The authors deposit readers, audiences, and characters into a moment of narrative time, in which the King of the Jinn and his jinni court sages listen to non-human animal complaints about humanity’s cruelty, arrogance, and thoughtless treatment. Through giving animals the power of speech,9 the Brethren create a story that features animals demonstrating their goodness, their unselfishness, godliness, and courage. The narrator of the story depicts all beings, spirits called jinni, non-human animals, and human creatures as intimately connected to one another in a “little narrative world” of courtroom and island. As the courtroom drama continues, all characters move through the plot together in procession, and we readers move forward with them into ultimate mystery. The kinship of all creatures is obvious to readers and to other characters in the story, if not to the story’s human characters as they all move forward in narrative time. The Brethren issue a flattering and open invitation for readers to join this procession, those who are “pure hearted and clear headed” and “who can weigh evidence,” that is, presumably, us. The 8  Human beings arrived at the court setting having just been shipwrecked; they have nowhere else to go. “Being shipwrecked” is symbolic of human souls’ vulnerabilities and states of disorder that overflow into their rhetorical language as they defend their rights and the status quo. 9  The Brethren choose the story-telling genre to show us how “highest animals verge with the lowest of rank of human beings; and the highest rank of humans verge with the lowest rank of angels” (Goodman and MacGregor trans., 63). The authors explain that allowing the animals to speak makes their treatise “clearer and more compelling, more striking, wittier, livelier, more useful to the listener, and more poignant and thought provoking in the moral” (63).

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Brethren want us all to remember that everything that exists springs from a “single Cause and a single Source, just as numbers issue from unity, which is prior to duality” (64). While the authors do not directly depict God as a character in the plot, God’s absence is present: we see intimations of this absent presence through the King of the Jinn’s authoritative speeches, through his power to weigh the evidence, and through the wisdom of his counselors. Furthermore, the animals’ speeches point to God’s providence as they indict human failings and compare them to their own blessed lives. The jinni spirits as well mark the presence of an absent God as they see animals reflect it in their diversity, individual forms, and ways of being: The king gazed left and right, beholding the immense diversity of shapes, and forms, colours, sounds, and songs before him; for some time he was overcome with wonder. Then, turning to one of the wise jinni philosophers, he said, ‘Look at those marvelous creatures, handiwork of the All-Merciful.’ ‘I see them, your Majesty’ came the reply. ‘I see them with the eyes of my head, but in my heart, I behold their Creator. Your Majesty is amazed at them, and I am amazed at the wisdom of the Creator who formed and fashioned them, raised and reared them, who gave them being, and preserves and provides for them still, who knows their every lair and refuge.’ All this, writ plain in His Book, with nothing left out or forgotten but each detail clear and precise... (Goodman and MacGregor translation of Epistle, #22, footnote # 247, Qur’an 11:6, Cf. Job 38–40)10

This jinni spirit character and his king honor the lives of all creatures here collected in this courtroom setting, but human beings do not. Non-­ human creatures fight for their honor and for their lives as they respond to humanity’s claims of superiority. In contrast to human choice to live in magnificent houses and clothe themselves with beautiful materials, the bee explains that their kind live in hexagonal cells and work hard to feed themselves and others, noting that it is their kinship with other bees that brings 10  As part of the interpretive reading process, we may detect that the Brethren intentionally invite readers to interpret their story’s multiple levels of meaning as layered and complex. While, on the one hand, the story portrays a comic performance of human beings utterly failing to make their case of superiority, in the Brethren’s depiction of human moral ineptitude in contrast to animal moral superiority, on the other hand, it hints at the beginning of a creaturely journey into mystery through prayer. While the human “ship-wrecked soul” is not depicted by the story as changing its course until the story’s end, when it meets the saint of heavenly virtues, the soul recognizes the spiritual work that needs to be accomplished in prayer before it is successful in entering into the realm of sainthood, this work a matter of both spontaneous prayer and ritualized commitment to prayer.

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them success in their communal ventures. The nightingale responds to humanity’s boast that, befitting its superior status, humanity enjoys “fine foods and delicious drinks” and that in so doing, humans gather such excess by the “toil of their bodies, that (they) degrade the soul—reckoning, trading, coming and going on distant journeys in search of their wants and needs, hoarding and engrossing while suffering all the austerities of a niggardly miser.” These humans suffer results of “bad actions” and “unwholesome choices,” the bird continues, that “ruin [your] bodies and souls” and bring “Untimely death, grief, and mourning.” We birds, however, the nightingale insists, are removed from all this: “we leave what we don’t need,” we gain nutriment that “springs up for us from the ground at the rain from the sky.” We do not “trouble our souls,” nor do we “strain our spirits,” which “marks our freedom and nobility” (Goodman and MacGregor trans., 249–251). With such continued truth-telling rhetoric, the animals stack up evidence against human superiority. By the time readers have read all but the final pages of the story, they may wonder if the expected King of the Jinn’s judgment in favor of the animals is prophetic of the Most High God’s judgment of human beings at the end of their lives. Readers, identifying with the human beings portrayed in the story, may hear a call to conversion and penance before it is too late. The story’s concluding moments are controversial among scholars because while the narrative discourse has suggested that animals will win their rights, a kind of deus ex machina,11 in the form of a wise and  The deus ex machina (god in the machine) device is used by Shakespeare and by other late medieval/early modern dramatists to help resolve or to create tension. Something suddenly emerges out of nowhere, literally, through a hole carved in the stage floor, with a mechanical device thrusting the thing or human actor onto the stage to startle audiences and indicate a major shift in the events. It may not often serve its purposes at the conclusion of the drama, however. In this case, the ending does not flow naturally, following the weight of the narrative argument. One would have thought that the case is settled. Does the king’s lack of expected action on a decision mean that the case is not solvable? Does the final speech of the wise human sage in the courtroom sum up how the case should be decided, a declaration that supplies all that is really needed instead of the king’s final decision? Should readers all but forget all that has been said against the actions of the human species? Did the manuscript offered for translation fail to include part of the original text; therefore, the king’s judgment is absent? The ambivalent and disquieting end of the “Case of the Animals against Man” offers opportunities for lively debate about how to interpret it, and this is evident in history as different translators/interpreters create different versions of the fable to fill in the gaps for their own purposes. See, for example, the fourteenth-century Anselm Turmeda’s “The Friar and the Ass” and the Laytner and Bridge, trans. and adaptation of the tale, cited in my bibliography. I want to thank Jason Welle, OFM, for alerting me to the Turmeda adaption of the tale. 11

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wondrous human being pops up, reversing the anticipated outcome. For the first time, a wise human being finally stands up and speaks wisely. The fact that human beings can reach godly perfection is thus announced to the assembly. For the moment, the king and entire court (and readers) are left speechless. Is it to be believed? Silence prevails. When asked for proof that such a person exists, the narrator describes this person as “Persian by breeding, Arabian by faith, a hanif by confession, Iraqi in culture, Hebrew in lore, Christian in manner, Damascene in devotion, Greek in science, Indian in discernment, Sufi in intimations, regal in character, masterful and thoughtful, and divine in awareness” (313–314). The interlocutor continues to speak, peacefully and reverently, in his appraisal of the capacities of human beings to approach God, if they are purified and perfected on the way toward union: Praised be God, Lord of all the worlds, he said. Destiny of the faithful, and foe to none but the unjust. God bless the Seal of Prophets, foremost of God’s messengers, Muhammad, God’s elect, and all his worthy house and good nation. … These saints of God are the flower of creation, the best, the purest, persons of fair and praiseworthy parts, pious deeds, myriad sciences, godly awareness, regal character, just and holy lives, and awesome ways. Fluent tongues weary to name their qualities, and no one has adequately described their inner core. Many have cited their virtues, and preachers in public assemblies have devoted their lives down through the ages to sermons dilating on their merits, and their godly ways, without ever reaching the pith of the matter. (314–315)

All gaze at the mystery appearing in the form of a saint and remember God as their destination, God who is the “Destiny of the faithful, and foe to none but the unjust.” The human participants at court become aware of the time they have wasted in attempting to establish superior status by lording it over other creatures. Will they, then, be ranked in the files of the “just” or the unjust, and thus a “friend of God” or a foe? But it is not all up to them, the narrator insists at the very end, for “He (God) has the power to effect what he will” (335). The Brethren are there to assist initiates and other listeners and readers to embark on a grace-filled journey, leaving the narrative discourse with an example of intercessory prayer and blessing to encourage students and readers alike, challenging them with soul-searching duties:

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We have now laid out our story in fifty-one epistles as clearly and concisely as possible, and this essay is one of them. God grant you success, dear brothers, in reading and grasping it fully. May He open your hearts, lay wide your breasts, and enlighten your eyes with the inner meaning of these words, and smooth the way for you to put these thoughts into practice as he has done with His pure, holy, and devoted saints. For He has the power to effect what He will. (315)

Finally, in this microcosmic dance, all creation, the entire macrocosm, waits in suspense for an answer to whether human beings can live out their capacity for becoming fully human under God, in kinship with other creatures, living devoted and pure lives to effect justice for all creatures.12 Some do, according to Muslim and Christian beliefs. Such people may live up to the challenge to act justly and mercifully, to effect peace and wellbeing, not only in relationships with other human beings, not only in their communities, but also promote them in the dwelling places of all creatures. Readers are left to determine how they will put “thoughts into practices,” “lay wide breasts,” open contrite hearts, and reassess their lives so that they might perhaps truly see themselves as if for the first time.

III Bonaventure’s Book of the Creatures: Excerpts from Itinerarium Mentis in Deum (Mind’s Road into God) Now if you ask how all of these things are to come about, ask grace, not doctrine; desire, not intellect; the groaning of prayer not studious reading; the Spouse, not the master; God, not a human being; darkness, not clarity; not light, but the fire that inflames totally and carries one into God through spiritual fervor and with the most burning affections. (Hayes, OFM, trans. and ed. with Philotheus Boehner, OFM, ed., Chap. 8, paragraph 6)

Cross-reading these two texts, studying them side-by-side and moving back and forth, from one to the other, uncovers insights about each text that otherwise might not be had. For this reader, this comparative reading method illuminates both authors’ convictions about the movement of grace in creaturely lives. Although they tell their stories through different 12  The narrator in Letter #22, in the Brethren’s Book of the Creatures, I maintain, projects a desire for justice for creatures almost as strongly as it pines for the perfection of human souls.

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vehicles, one a fable, the other a mystical treatise, both authors also intend to animate and empower human agency. The authors want readers to lead just lives and persevere. In short, they both look to cultivate the soil through which sainthood can grow. If cross-reading the texts reveals likenesses, however, it also reveals many differences. While the Brethren in the “Case of the Animals” portray individual, non-human species’ desires for justice, Bonaventure in The Mind’s Road does not illustrate animals as individuals nor does he obviously construct an argument for their just treatment. However, as he addresses his Franciscan readers, listeners, and others who frequent the university setting, Bonaventure hints at the textual presence of the founder of the Franciscan movement, St. Francis of Assisi  (1182–1226). Most likely, Bonaventure’s audiences have already heard stories about the saint’s love, mercy, just treatment of animals, and just life. Bonaventure alludes to such stories and memories about Francis’ virtues in the Mind’s Road. His analyses of sainthood and of practices that lead to union with God in prayer are subtle, academic, and scientific, quite different from the Brethren’s story-telling genre. Again, while in his Book of the Creatures, Chapters 1 and 2, Bonaventure does not feature studies of individual members of species as such, he does describe elements and processes in Nature. He celebrates Nature’s capacity to illustrate something about God’s attributes and presence in all things: “The greatness of things viewed in terms of their length, width, or depth; or seen in terms of the immense energy which extends in length, width, and depth as is clear in the way light is diffused; or in terms of the efficiency of their operations, which are internal, continuous, and diffuse, as appears in the action of fire—all this clearly points to the immensity of the power, wisdom, and goodness of the triune God who, though uncircumscribed, exists in all things by virtue of power, presence, and essence” (57).13 In this passage, Bonaventure highlights the creatures of light and fire that point to God in virtue of “power, presence, and essence”; he refers as well to the “triune God” in terms of God’s attributes … not yet describing the role of the Trinity in creation, which he analyzes in chapters 13  I thank Professor Francis X.  Clooney SJ for his comments, which prompted a closer reading of Bonaventure’s seemingly lack of focus on identifying individuals within species. Clooney suggested another look at “The Canticle of the Sun,” in this respect. Perhaps, giving animals the power of speech, as the Brethren do in their fable, contributes toward readers’ awareness of differences between the authors’ treatment of creaturehood.

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to follow. In this passage, in allusions to light and fire, Bonaventure may hint at his familiarity and his Franciscan audiences’ familiarity, with one of St. Francis’ greatest works, “The Canticle of Brother Sun.” Although written in academic language, Bonaventure’s “light and fire” passage captures some of the original beauty of St. Francis canticle. While writing the Mind’s Road into God in 1259, Bonaventure may also have begun research for his book about Francis’ life, the Major Legend of St. Francis. The Mind’s Road was probably edited and copies released later in 1260 in manuscript form just as Bonaventure was preparing to write his Major Legend of St. Francis. To write this life of the founder, Bonaventure interviews friars who knew Francis and who remember his famous Canticle, which the saint wrote shortly before his death and sang in the Italian vernacular. As Bonaventure composes The Mind’s Road, then, the manuscript and oral versions of the song are circulating among the friars, via their memories of it personally, sung by the founder, through oral histories told in community, or through their having access to copied manuscripts. St. Francis asked his Franciscan communities to sing the Canticle as often as possible. As he describes light and fire in The Mind’s Road, Bonaventure perhaps remembers Saint Francis’ far simpler depiction of these elements as he reads and sings the Canticle in community: Praise be you, my Lord, with all your creatures/Especially Brother Sun/ Who makes the day and through whom you give us light/And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor,/And bears the signification or You, Most High One…Praised be you, my Lord, for Brother Fire,/By whom you light the night,/And he is beautiful and jocund and robust and strong.14

Cross-reading texts within their historical contexts helps this reader remain in tune with the tone of wonder and awe found in both works: the language of Bonaventure’s treatise and Francis’ Canticle echo in some sense the worshipful words of the Jinni King and sage as they gaze upon the wonders of creation: “‘Look at those marvelous creatures, handiwork of the All-Merciful’. ‘I see them, your Majesty’ came the reply. ‘I see them with the eyes of my head, but in my heart, I behold their Creator. Your 14  See Ewert Cousins’ translation in Bonaventure: The Soul’s Journey into God; The Tree of Life; The Life of St. Francis. Paulist Press, “The Classics of Western Spirituality” (1978), 27–28. While the Canticle is not limited to these words, these lines most resonate with Bonaventure’s wording of processes in Nature in The Mind’s Road.

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Majesty is amazed at them, and I am amazed at the wisdom of the Creator who formed and fashioned them, ....’” In fact, all readers may very well have experienced the awe Nature can inspire; their own day-to-day experiences give them access to wonder if they just stop to take a look. Bonaventure portrays our attentiveness to Nature’s lessons as necessary for the journey, as a “book” to be “read,” failing to understand how anyone could not note God’s presence in creation. Bonaventure urges his readers to not simply “take a look,” though, in an act of superficial observation, but to gaze deeply and meditatively as we have observed to be the case with the royal characters in the Brethren’s story. Such meditative acts will, in fact, lead to worship and prayer and help one to persevere. Ignoring God’s accessibility to us in nature, is “remaining in darkness,” Bonaventure insists: From all that has been said above we may conclude that from the creation of the world the invisible things of God are seen, being understood through those things that are made so that they are without excuse who do not wish to pay attention to these things, or to know, bless, and love God in all things, since such people do not wish to be lifted to God from darkness into the marvelous light of God. But thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord who has lifted us out of the darkness into this marvelous light, since because of the lights that come to us from outside we might be disposed to re-enter the mirror of our mind in which divine reality shines forth. (79)

The Brethren’s fable teaches that creatures “read” the Book of Creation and daily witness to the blessing of God’s presence, one that they have learned to acknowledge as filled with loving concern. For Bonaventure, love emanates into all being from God’s righteous, supreme fulness, a fontalis plenitudo. William Harmless, S.J. notes that “This metaphysics—a vision of a vast cosmic circle, a movement that flows out from God and returns to God—undergirds Bonaventure’s whole mystical theology.”15 Franciscan and scholar Zachary Hays develops this point even further, extending it to the mystic’s journey into union with God: “It is within the circle of creation … that Bonaventure envisions the movement of the spiritual life. The spiritual journey to which all are called is nothing less than the personal engagement in the great movement of created reality out of God and back to God” (14).  As quoted from William Harmless SJ, “Mystic as Cartographer: Bonaventure.” 14.

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Matter is not nothing. It shines forth with divine goodness in creatures, and according to Bonaventure, if it were not for the effects of Adam’s sin, God’s presence would manifest itself in creation as if we lived in a paradise here on earth.16 Those who desire to ascend to God must first turn away from sin, pray for the grace to reform, pray always, lead a holy life, allow justice to purify, and finally seek wisdom to “perfect” them: “They must be influenced by justice which purifies; and this is carried out in every-day actions. These powers must also be brought to bear on that knowledge which illumines, and this happens in meditation. And they must be brought to the wisdom that perfects, and this takes place in contemplation” (Boehner and Hayes, 53).17 If wisdom is the gift of leading holy lives, it is also perhaps one of the most important of the Creator’s attributes. But before attaining this god-like attribute, pilgrims and seekers on the way must practice everyday actions justly to obtain it (with God’s grace assisting). Those seeking union with God in prayer interact with God’s creatures, tenderly and mercifully as the memory of Francis informs. Upon cross-reading the texts, we might conclude that the Brethren’s “Case of the Animals,” with its high regard for animal justice, in some sense “fleshes out” some of the meaning of Bonaventure’s text while Bonaventure’s text is shadowed by the saintly presence of Francis as well. The Mind’s Road subtly connotes St. Francis’ orientation toward Creation and its creatures, his attentiveness to other creaturely needs for justice. The Brethren pursue a somewhat similar argument in the fable that, I maintain, Franciscan Bonaventure would not reject. What is sin for the Brethren? Those on a journey to God should reject arrogance (of thinking oneself superior to other creatures), repent (may God “lay wide your breasts”), and thus begin a purification process of conversion. While Bonaventure does not specify that treating animals justly must be part of a reader’s conscientious efforts toward soul-­ purification, he does insist that God dwells in and through creatures, and thus that they are, in some sense, holy. He explains the difference between knowing God in a creature and knowing God through creatures: “To 16  Cf. Collations on the Six Days. “To see God, the first couple simply read the book of Creation” in William Harmless SJ, “Mystic as Cartographer: Bonaventure” (Oxford Scholarship Online, Oct. 2011). https://oxforduniversitypressscholarship-com.ezproxy2. 17  “Qui igitur vult in Deum ascendere necesse est, ut vitata culpa deformante naturam, naturales potentias supradictas exerceat ad gratiam reformantem, et hoc per orationem; ad iustitiam purificantem et hoc en conversatione ….” The Mind’s Road, Boehner and Hayes, trans., 52.

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know God in a creature is to know [his] presence flowing through a creature. But to know God through a creature is to be raised up by the knowledge of the creature to the knowledge of God, as means by a ladder between them.’”18 Bonaventure describes creatures as sacraments (visible signs in creation of God’s invisible grace), and thus they become ways to encounter God in prayer. How could a human being abuse a visible sign of God’s invisible grace? Creatures are vehicles of God’s grace in sacramental encounter. In the Major Life of St. Francis, Bonaventure writes about the courtesy and tenderness Francis daily displayed toward creatures and about the saint’s bent toward justice for them.19 St. Francis is Bonaventure’s example of highest virtue. In The Mind’s Road, Bonaventure seems to follow Francis’ lead when he elevates the potential of animals to become visible signs of God’s invisible grace or sacraments. We have witnessed a description of such an encounter, creatures becoming signs of God’s grace-filled presence, in the Brethren’s fable, in the conversation between the royal jinni characters. “Do Christians alone rightly claim sacramental perspectives as theirs alone?” we are emboldened to ask. God’s sacramental presence in the universe seems open to all as the following passage suggests: For the created things of this sensible world signify the invisible things of God, and every effect is a sign of the cause; every copy is a sign of its exemplar; and the road a sign of the goal to which it leads … For every creature is by nature a kind of copy and likeness of that eternal Wisdom … And in a most special way this has been done by those which it has pleased God to institute a sign, but which are signs not only in the ordinary sense but also are known as sacrments. (Chap. 3, 79, para. 12)

 William Harmless SJ, 14.  Bonaventure, the Soul’s Journey into God, the Tree of Life, the Life of St. Francis. Ewert Cousins, trans. “When he considered the primordial source of all things, he was filled with even more abundant piety, calling creatures, no matter how small, by the name of brother or sister, because he knew they had the same source as himself.” Fn fn25 footnote 25 continued. “However, he embraced more affectionately and sweetly those creatures which present a natural reflection of Christ’s merciful gentleness and represent him in Scriptural symbolism. He often paid to ransom lambs that were being led to their death…let the impiety of men, therefore, be warned how great a punishment will be inflicted upon it at the end of time…the devotion of the faithful consider that the marvelous power and abundant sweetness of the piety of God’s servant was so great that it was acknowledged in their own way, even by animals.” 255–256. 18 19

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Conclusion Jews, Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, Sufis and Franciscans, scientists and theologians, and many others enjoy opportunities to practice their capacity for loving friendship with one another, to establish themselves in communities as compassionate, like-minded souls, to employ their energies in saving the environment and in achieving peace in a strife-­ filled world. The feeling of isolation is so common to our times in the face of pandemics and ecological instability; not only are we separated from our human friends, but we also suffer from the knowledge that we are killing other species of animals and destroying their habitats. We isolate ourselves from other creatures’ presences and needs. From alienation grows feelings of despair. We are still free to discover our kinship with other animals, treat them as family, and save them and us from extinction. We are free to cultivate associations across religious borders, with those who treasure knowledge and wisdom and who foster discussions that may lead to actions that defend animal, insect, and plant life. We form communities of friendship not so unlike those that resemble the communities of friends to which the Sufi mystics Ikhwan al Safa and the Franciscan Bonaventure belonged. We find saints who inspire human agency, and moved by their holy lives, we act. With God’s grace, we raise ourselves, morally and spiritually, to meet the challenges; with strong voices we stand up in the assembly and declare our ability to take them on. We too heed present-day sage advice, seek good leaders, and stand in awe of them, if and when we find them: they could be us. They may be a 21-year-old girl named Greta Thunberg (pron.Toonberg). Furthermore, we attentively listen to the words flowing from our sacred scriptures. Our classics and sacred stories, their admonitions and advice, give us hope and inspiration, empowering us to care for the planet’s creatures and to perhaps assist us on the way to union with God in prayer. In fact, day by day, we see indications of God’s presence in nature if we only are awake and aware. I hope that our sacred texts will help us to continue to see, to really see, creation and our fellow creatures as kin. With our hearts engaged as well as minds, the possibility for such a radical change of direction is real. With contrite hearts, in sorrow for the sin of devastating God’s creation, and after having experienced a death of self, as humility dispels arrogance and the “second death” is seen as  ultimately harmless, we approach the God of

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unconditional love. God comes to our assistance in diverse and in numerous ways. In a “space of deep surrender” to this Love, we learn what “coming-of-age” is all about.20

Bibliography Translations of Primary Sources Bonaventure. Itinerarium Mentis in Deum. Zachary Hayes, O.F.M. trans. and ed. with Philotheus Boehner, O.F.M., ed. Works of St. Bonaventure, Vol. II. New York: The Franciscan Institute. St. Bonventure University, 2002. Ikhwān al-Ṣafā´. The Epistles of the Brethren of Purity. #22: The Case of the Animals versus Man Before the King of the Jinn. Goodman, Lenn E. & Richard McGregor, trans., with a forward by Nader El-Bizri. New  York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, in Association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies, London, 2009. Laytner, Anson and Dan Bridge, trans. and adaptation. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Intro. The Animals’ Lawsuit against Humanity: A Modern Adaptation of an Ancient Animal Rights Tale. Louisville, Kentucky: Fons Vitae Publishing, 2005.

Secondary Sources Brooks, Peter. “Narrative Transaction and Transference” in Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in Narrative. Harvard University Press, 1984. Clooney, Francis X.  S.J. Comparative Theology: Deep Learning Across Religious Borders. Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Clooney, Francis X. S.J. “Reading Religiously across Religious Borders: a Method for Comparative Study.” Religions, MDPI, 31 January, 2018. 1–12. fclooney@ hds.harvard.edu. Fredericks, James L. “Interreligious Friendship: a New Theological Virtue,” JES, Vol. XXXV, Spring 1998, Len Swidler, ed. Philadelphia: Temple University. Hellman, J.A. Wayne, OFM, Conv., J.M. Hammond, trans. Divine and Created Order in Bonaventure’s Theology. New York: St. Bonaventure University, 2001. Haught, John. What is God? How to Think about the Divine. “On Mystery.” Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1986.

20  From Diarmuid O’Murchu, When the Disciple Comes of Age: Christian Identity in the 21st Century. New York: Orbis Books, 212.

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Harmless, William, SJ. “Mystic as Cartographer: Bonaventure.” Oxford Scholarship Online, October, 2011. https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof: oso/9780195300383.003.0005. Horan, Daniel P., OFM. All God’s Creatures: A Theology of Creation. Rowan & Littlefield Publish, 2018. Kretzmann, Norman, et  al., eds. The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy. Cambridge University Press, 1982. Moyaert, Marianne. “On Vulnerability: Probing the Ethical Dimensions of Comparative Theology.” Religions. ISSN 2077-1444. www.mdpi.com/journal/religions. 2012. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. An Introduction to Islamic Cosmological Doctrine. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993. Stock, Brian. After Augustine: The Meditative Reader and the Text. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001. Rabinowitz, Peter J. & Michael W.  Smith. Authorizing Readers. New  York: Columbia University (Teacher’s College Press), 1998. Shafiq, Muhammad & Muhammad Abu-Nimer. Interfaith Dialogue: A Guide for Muslims. London & Washington: The International Institute of Islamic Thought. 2011. Welle, Jason OFM. The Pontifical Institute for Arabic and Islamic Studies. “Two Friars Who Went Among the Muslims and the Realms of their Memory: Francis of Assisi and Anselm Turmeda/Abdulla¯h al-Tarjuman.” The Muslim World, Vol. 107, July, 2017.

CHAPTER 11

Beyond Separations: Mystics Merging Across Time and Space Saiyida Zakiya Hasna Islam

A holistic insight with a convergence into Oneness is where all mystics appear to meet. This bespeaks of an inherent interreligiosity, which makes their approach conducive toward peace and tolerance in our increasingly diverse world. This study is an exploration of two apparently divergent different mystics to reveal the interreligiosity in the mystical approach. These two from different times and climes are the twentieth-century Bawa Muhaiyaddeen (RA)1 and the thirteenth-century Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi.2 A study of these two mystics will also allow us to highlight a significant number of key concepts that define Muslim mysticism. These need to be 1  Such letters in parentheses stand for shortened forms of Arabic supplications traditionally spoken or written after the names of prophets, angels, saints, and so on, that is, AS, Sal., and RA, among others. 2  They will be henceforth referred to as Bawa and Ibn Arabi, respectively.

S. Z. H. Islam (*) Temple University, Philadelphia, PA, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_11

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comprehended to understand the Islamic mystic vision—specifically that of the Insan-e-Kameel, Perfect Man,3 or Complete Human. This concept is tied to the potentiality of each human being to realize Tawheed, which can be approximately translated as “Oneness.” The crux of Islam is Tawheed.4 The Muslim mystical journey entails the process of realizing the full significance of Tawheed. Integral to this process are Taqwa or God-­ consciousness and eventual Tawakkul or submission.5 Islamic terms have a connotative particularity in Islamic practices. However, in the mystical realm the significance of these transcend to the universal level. In the Islamic faith tradition, the emphasis on the foundational ritual practices centered on Tawheed is integral to the spiritual life of Muslim mystics. These practices are geared to the realization of the Oneness as the only Reality or Truth (Haqq). This entails an expanded journey of progression, that spirals out from a firm faith on a fixed point of reality, to return experientially by realizing that singular source—which is the only Truth or the point of Tawheed. As such, terms such as Truth, Reality, Real, Haqq, Source, and Point are indicative of the Oneness. The interreligiosity of the Muslim mystics is premised on this Oneness. 3  It is important to note that the meanings will be an approximation at best, as such terms have profound spiritual significance at multiple levels which is revelatory as one delves deeper into the mystical realm. Arabic terms will be italicized throughout this chapter, and terms with mystical connotations will be either capitalized or within inverted commas. Scholars usually translate Insan-e-kameel as the Perfect Man. However, since Insan literally means human and since all humans regardless of gender have the potentiality to realize into that, I chose to translate it also as the Perfect Human. Nevertheless, since most scholars use “man” generically, connoting all human beings to differentiate it from the gendered term rajul, the human male, both the expressions will be used interchangeably in this chapter. 4  William Chittick aptly states “the governing axiom of the Islamic worldview, tawhid, or the assertion of unity,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi Society, 48, 2010, p. 1. In this chapter, a few Arabic terms such as this one will be both italicized and capitalized due to their significant connotations. 5  The terms tawakkul and abd, translated as surrender/submission and slave, respectively, appear to be challenging for westerners to comprehend, as they tend to view those through the lens of defeat and enslavement. Some of my western colleagues would not accept the military cum slavery implications, failing to see the humanitarian cum depth psychology connotations of the concepts. Apparently, they could not see that the submission is not to any other human, but to the Divine, or to put it esoterically, to our true self. Eastern minds view it as liberation through cutting attachments to the temporal and thereby freeing oneself from one’s ego. The all-consuming ego prevents one from what Buddha stated as the “awakening” and Muslims view it as the awakening to the Truth of the only Real (Huq). Hence the surrender or submission is not to another human, but in a manner of speaking to one’s true self, per se.

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At the very outset, it needs to be noted that in the mystical realm of the ineffable, common languages and ideas take on different connotations as per the context. Significant terms will be capitalized, and foreign ones italicized. For example, the Point can signify the singular focus on the mystical path, it may mean the juncture where the many disappear into the One or the One and Only Absolute, etc. The West applies the term Sufism to Muslim mysticism. It needs to be mentioned that the convergence to Tawheed initiated in the esoteric path entails a trajectory to transcend all separations, including that of religions. This has led many in the West to view Sufism to be separate from the Islamic belief system. Thus, many westerners who profess to admire or have an affinity to Sufi teachers like Ibn Arabi, tend to view them as distinct from Islam and Muslims. This bespeaks of a lack of comprehension of the mystical insight in general, and the concept of Tawheed in particular. This vision of Oneness is also at the core of all mystical traditions, that is, Christian mystic Eckharts’ “Godhead.” Islam is inclusive of all religions as is reiterated in the Qur’an.6 I have chosen to refer to Muslim mystics interchangeably with Sufis in an attempt to bring more clarity to the tradition that engenders their journey. For Sufis, embedded in this journey is the gradual realization of what the ritualistic exercises known as the Five Pillars of Islam7 were pointing toward—Tawheed. The devotions of the Muslim mystics are distinctive in their supererogatory devotional practices added to those mandatory ones. Thus, the motif of the mystical path for Muslims is drawn on the potentiality of everyone realizing the state of Insan-e-Kameel. Adam (AS) is 6  The inclusiveness is pervasive throughout the Qur’an. Only a few verses are provided here 2:62, 127–133; 3:51–52, 84; 6:161–163; 10:83–84, 90. 7  The Five Pillars of Islam are the declaration of faith in Tawheed, technically termed as Shahada or witnessing; salah, the five times daily ritual prayers; the paying of the annual zakah on liquid assets; sawm, the annual month-long fasting in the lunar month of Ramadan; and finally, if possible, the once-a-lifetime pilgrimage of Hajj. Beginning with the awareness of the Oneness of Tawheed, the rituals are geared towards cultivating an awareness of the deeper self through the five-times prayer, community-awareness by discouraging hoarding and encouraging investment in the community, gradually enlarging the circle by the humanitarian awareness of hunger, deprivation, etc., through fasting, and finally the physical equivalent of the awareness of our interconnectivity through the gathering during hajj. Needless to say, these are at the very basic level. The meanings and effects of these go far deeper to eventually reveal the esoteric dimensions when cultivated with an awareness of taqwa and tawakkul. Without the latter two, one can lose connection to the larger and deeper levels and get attached to the rituals themselves bordering on idolatry.

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viewed to be the first of them. So, the realization is a restorative return journey, through increasing recognition of the primal Adamic nature. The prophets’ function as legislative figures8 for the moral framework of society is vital for the exoteric aspect of human progression. This sets in motion the ritual aspect tilted to the transcendence9 of God (tanzih). The reflective observance of these has an analytic aspect. Apparently, the mystic’s role is, on one hand, to establish them, while gradually leading the laity through them to the intimacy with God (tasbih). They thereby initiate them into the inner depths of devotions through a synthesizing journey to an increasingly holistic insight. This culminates in the realization of the esoteric significance of “there is nothing else but God” of the exoteric shahada, the declaration of faith, which is the first pillar of Islam. Notable in the shahada is what follows as the affirmation of Muhammad (Sal.) being the messenger of God. Exoterically, this formulates the connection to the community of Muhammad (Sal.). Whereas, esoterically, this affirmation completes the cycle of the divine guidance by the prophetic tradition10 culminating into completion through Muhammad (Sal.). The root term within the name Muhammad is hamd, which approximately means praise. Esoterically it is tied to the concept of all creation—part of which is the prophetic legacy—being the ongoing praise of the One Creator as creation came out of the primal Light called nur-e-Muhammadiya. Of the two mystics explored here, the thirteenth-century Ibn Arabi is well-known in the West. The twentieth-century Bawa, despite being buried in the U.S., is a relative unknown. Bawa represents the folk mysticism of popular piety which perhaps represents interreligiosity at its most expansive format. His message seamlessly blends in the Abrahamic traditions with those of the East, particularly Hinduism, to converge into a unified mystic vision of Oneness. Western academia has embraced Ibn Arabi to the point that there is an active Muhiyiddin Ibn Arabi Society (MIAS) headquartered in Oxford to 8  Prophets in Islam are viewed as guides sent since the beginning of creation to provide a moral framework based on justice and compassion or Adl and Ihsaan, respectively, for which the prophets themselves set the model by words and deeds. Hence the importance of the Sunnah tradition with the term Hadith being specific to Muhammad (Sal.). 9  See Ibn Arabi’s The Meccan Revelations (New York: Pir Press, 2005), Vol. I., pp. 221–222. See also the notes 116–118, particularly 116, regarding Tawhid on p. 337. 10  The Prophetic tradition refers to the legislative roles from Adam to Muhammad (Sal.) at the exoteric dimension. Their esoteric roles expand into the universal and interconnectivity to the past and posterity with guides who are considered saints of different traditions.

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engage in and promulgate his work.11 However, as Ibn Arabi himself stated, mining the depths of his writings limits it more to the educated milieu. Bawa, on the other hand, is accessible to all. The simplicity of his narratives was modeled on the oral tradition of folk piety of the masses. Despite their apparent differences, like all mystics, both drew from the same deep spring to guide humanity to the same Single Source which is both the commencing and the convergent Point of all. Both Bawa and Ibn Arabi have the same Arabic name (spelled differently in English) Muhaiyaddeen and Muhiyiddin, respectively. It means the reviver of the faith, testimony to the convergence of their functions, and goals in relation to humanity.

Mysticism or Ma’rifa in Islam “Maʿrifa” (Arabic: “interior knowledge”), in Islam, is the mystical knowledge of God or the “higher realities” (Encyclopedia Britannica).12 The mystical insight into the Oneness comes through the resolution of all cosmic contrasts and oppositions through the coincidentia oppositorum. Contrasts are aspects of tajalli or divine disclosure, the manifestation of the One to the Many. Due to the myriad of creation spiraling out from a single point, there is the natural orientation (fitra)13 of the many to the Source, and therefore the inevitable reintegrating Return. However, humans are distinctive in their ability for Taqwa—the vigilant awareness of the ultimate Oneness of Tawheed. The conscious cultivation and increase in Taqwa evolve to transformative Tawakkul—the ultimate submission. This hallows the Return for them. This “Return” is a spiritual journey toward a conscious alignment to one’s dhat14 or eternal essence to be fully realized into the Source. The importance of practicing Taqwa is that it enables the experiential learner to experience the perspectival shift of insight into the Divine connection, and thereby the awe in the submission (Tawakkul) to that Source. Taqwa also prevents one from getting trapped in the temporal sorrows or pleasures of the illusory phenomenal world created for experiential learning. The gradual clarity of vision makes one 11  See Suha Taji-Farouki’s Beshara and Ibn Arabi: A Movement of Sufi Spirituality in the Modern World (Oxford: Anqa Publishing, 2010) 177–181. 12  “Ma’rifa,” Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/topic/marifa. 13  See Ibn Arabi’s The Alchemy of Human Happiness, trans. Stephen Hirtenstein (Oxford: Anqa Publishing, 2017), 55 including the notes, particularly note 32. 14  Dhat is also pronounced as Zat.

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participatory in the “divine disclosure” or tajalli, while the veils of separations dissipate as they progress into the joy of realizing, and disappearing, into the only Real. Entrapments ensue from the “I” of the ego that creates veils that cuts one off from the ultimate Truth of Oneness and engenders illusions of separations to build up the arrogance which most Muslim mystics like Bawa visualize as the “mountain” that needs to be splintered to realize Tawheed. Therefore, the journey of ma’rifa translates into “knowing”—more so as “recognizing.” Mystical insight is distinct from transmitted knowledge. It is “recognized” truth as contrasted with “information.”15 The mystical journey is an inner one of gradual re-discovery and increasing recognition of what was already known, to the full realization of the Truth or the Real or Haqq. It is a restorative return journey to the Single Source from whence all came—the realization to the Truth of Tawheed.16 Consequently, the mystic transcends all separations including that of religion. This is key to understanding what appears to be the interreligiosity in mystics like Bawa and Ibn Arabi. Centered on the “Point” of the Oneness of Tawheed, they viewed the whole spectrum of the legacy of guidance through prophets, saints, scriptures, etc., as emanating from the “One.” Terms such as Islam and Muslim shift to connotative levels of universality when applied to humanity in general. For example, the term islam connotes the ideal way at the heart of the purest of human aspirations, which is geared to the Divine will regardless of which religious tradition a mystic may be from. At many other levels islam is referred to as the ultimate peace, purity, etc. that came with the descent of humans and is the ideal for them. Whereas a muslim is anyone in a total state of submission, no matter what faith traditions they come from.17 The Prophet Muhammad (Sal.), being the

15  See Chittick’s “Doorway to an Intellectual Tradition” in the Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn‘Arabi Society 59 (2016), 3–6. Also see the opening poem for Chapter 317 in Chittick’s “Two Chapters from the Futuhat al-Makkiya,” and sections 5, 5.1 and 5.2 in Chittick’s “Ibn Arabi,” 2019. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ibn-arabi/. 16  See Chittick’s “The Anthropology of Compassion,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 48 (2010): 1–17. 17  See the Qur’an 2:132–133; 3: 51–52, 84; 6:163; 10:84. The premise of the essential truth of all faith traditions coming from the same source is again connected to the heart, as Chittick aptly states, “faith demands acknowledging the truth in the heart (al-tasdiq bi’l-­ qalb), not blind acceptance” (“Doorway to an Intellectual Tradition” p. 9).

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final prophet, thus seals the prophetic aspect of the legacy of spiritual guidance, and the term Muslim18 here becomes particular to his followers.

Terms, Myths, and Metaphors in Ma’rifa Narratives The interiority of the mystical realm is that of the ineffable, and therefore the messaging is replete with the mythopoetic. Myths, fables, and parables are all the more prevalent in the narratives of mystics like Bawa, who belong primarily to the masses until the spiritual seekers from the elite and the erudite recognize the interiority of the wisdom tales and join them. Bawa is unique among such mystics, as he started out with the simple folks of Sri Lanka and ended among the apparently sophisticated spiritual seekers in the U.S. In the counter-culture clime of the sixties and seventies, most of his American followers had traversed the eastern traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism. So, when Bawa’s teachings encompassed ancient wisdom tales, they thought they were on familiar territory until the point of those tales was upturned to course into the mystical stream. Muslim mystics taught by acts and tales that startled people into realization by completely overturning the meanings they had hitherto known. The well-known story of the eighth-century female Muslim mystic Rabiya-­ al-­Addawiya (RA) is a classic example. Shoppers in a busy marketplace were startled to see her running with a burning torch in one hand and a jug of water in the other. Her response to their queries was that she was out to burn down the gardens of paradise and douse the fires of hell so that her devotions were not for the rewards of paradise and the fear of hell, but for the love of Allah and Allah alone. This is a constant in every mystical teaching—the Oneness, the Tawheed in Islam. The ma’rifa narratives are infused with the Qur’an and the Hadith.19 Along with other scholars, Lewisohn noted, “‘The religious conscience of Islam is centered upon a fact of meta-history,’ wrote Henry Corbin, referring here to the pre-eternal covenant mentioned in the Qur’ān (7:172), the entire mythopoetic romance of Sufism developed out of this ­primordial,  The term is capitalized as it is a proper noun for the followers of Muhammed (Sal).  The Hadith traditions are the records of what the Prophet Muhammad said and are separated from the revelations from God that came through the angel Gabriel, which is the Qur’an. They range from the profound to the mundane and include his acts. The Sufis are anchored to those known as the Hadith-e-Qudsi. These are said to have been revealed directly to the Prophet’s heart without any intermediary and were orally passed down. The seekers in the ma’rifa way tend to tune into those. 18 19

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pre-eternal covenant … between man and God.”20 Evidently, this metahistory infiltrated the spirituality of Islam from the very earliest period. Various Hadith traditions are quoted regarding the utmost intimacy of God—even the potentiality of humans progressing to the point where their hearing, seeing, and so on are those of God.21 Like Rabiya (RA), the mystics’ teachings gear one to the pathway that is a process of progression of “becoming,” to be realized into the Perfect Man—essentially a mirror reflecting the Truth. This spiritual pathway is focused on the Point of Tawheed, cultivating Taqwa for the eventual Tawakkul. Ibn Arabi refers to that as humans being “anchored” to the Truth which enables the alignment with the light of the essence (dhat) within—the true self per se.22 This is the point of utmost intimacy with the Divine. Thus, being the reflecting mirror, which is expressed in various Hadith traditions such as “know thyself and you will know the Lord.” Mithal, or the mirror, is another term that has deep multi-faceted contextual connotation. The dhat is a beacon “point” of light in the innermost recesses of the qalb (Heart). Hence the profound significance of the qalb.23 Thus, this principality of the Heart requires accessing it. This is vital to the process of erasing and effacing to annihilate the “mountain” of the ego—thereby dissipating all the veils to enable in the radiating light of the Sun—the only Truth (Haqq). The Heart or qalb24 is of paramount importance in ma’rifa. It is the site of the sirr (secret point) of the dhat or essence, which is the vital connection for the inexorable draw to the divine love that initiates the journey. The struggle is to subdue and subsume the mind to the qalb. The mind creates the mountain of the ego. The sirr is the eternal point within—the end-point of the “ray” emanating from the “Sun,” the symbol of the only 20  Leonard Lewisohn, “Sufism’s Religion of Love, from Rābi‘a to Ibn ‘Arabı ̄,” ed. Lloyd Ridgeon, The Cambridge Companion to Sufism, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 150–80. 21  See Ibn Arabi’s Divine Sayings: 101 Hadith Qudsi (Oxford: Anqa Publishing, 2008), 70. 22  See Ibn Arabi’s The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah. Book 3 (New York: Pir Press, 2019), 331–332. 23  As James Morris puts it in “Divine Calling, Human Response,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 53, 2013, the qalb is “each human being’s essential spiritual reality” (2013, 12). 24  The heart as qalb has profound spiritual connotative significance in the Qur’an, as differentiated from the heart or Fuad, as which can be the anatomical one or the seat of emotions.

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Truth. The mountain of the ego-producing mind has to be splintered to enable one to connect to that secret point of truth to be aligned to the Divine within. So, the two most prevalent terms in mysticism across the board are the Heart and the Sun. The “Heart” is the means for the transformation and transmutation to enable one to disappear into the eternal light of the “Sun.” Thus, as Chittick points out, in “Koranic terms, the locus of awareness and consciousness is the heart (qalb).”25

Bawa and Ibn Arabi A significant difference in the study of the two mystics chosen for this chapter is the challenge of navigating the abundance of secondary research on Ibn Arabi (RA) and the paucity of those when it comes to Bawa’s teachings.26 The only significant research on those teachings is by Gisela Webb. She appears to have the necessary insight into the mystical dimensions to comprehend the depth of his teachings. She situated Bawa in what she termed the second wave of Sufism in North America and traced the evolution of his followers in their relationship to other Sufis and the larger community of Islam. This led to the congregants at the Fellowship Mosque to be eventually viewed as a “culturally integrated expression of Islam.”27 In comparing these two Muslim mystics, with almost seven centuries between them, we will first focus on what is distinctive about them. I will begin with Bawa. Bawa represents the folk piety of the East. Popular piety in the East draws its spiritual nourishment from figures like him. They are part and parcel of the Indian landscape, be they Hindus, Muslims, or Buddhists. Needless to say, few of them are actually transformed figures like Bawa. The way to determine their authenticity is to quote Mathew 7:20, “it is by the fruits….” Despite Islam having no system of 25  See Chittick’s “Ibn ‘Arabî” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (2019) sections 3.3, “Imagination” and 5.2: “The Stages of Ascent.” Regarding the natural orientation of humans to the Divine, the devolution into separations and the returning evolution to the Divine, see also Austin translated Ibn Arabi’s The Bezels of Wisdom about “reintegration and concentration,” 31. 26  The little there is on Bawa centers more on the anthropological angle featuring the community of western disciples. There is a dearth of research on his teachings, and of what there is, most appear to lack the vision necessary to comprehend the inner dimensions of mystical thought. 27  Gisela Webb, “Negotiating Boundaries: American Sufis,” in The Cambridge Companion to American Islam, ed. Juliane Hammer and Omid Safi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 197, 207.

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canonization, after their demise these figures are recognized as walis, or friends of God. This is similar to viewing them somewhat as the saints in other cultures. Legends and lore live on as to how they transformed the lives of those they encountered. Over time, their tombs became pilgrimage sites. These are commonly known to the West as the Sufi shrines. The stories of such unknown Muslim figures surfaced in Richard Eaton’s trailblazing anthropological study of Bengal, in the eastern region of the Indian subcontinent. The eventual embracing of the oral tradition in academia enabled such research to be continued by those such as Asim Roy and Tony Stewart. These were more from an anthropological angle. Research into the local lore started to solve the mystery of how Islam reached the easternmost hinterlands of the subcontinent. The message and method of the aforesaid folk mystics are classic examples of the interreligiosity inherent in the mystical vision. The simple tomb-shrines that dot the landscape of a neglected region left the legacy of the mystical teachers, pirs, and their followers that exist to this day.28 Bawa can be situated among those. What distinguishes Bawa is his coming to the West with his message and choosing to be buried in Coatesville, PA, U.S. Thus, his tomb is the only Sufi shrine in North America. Hence his legacy spans from the East to the West. The mystical realm appears to have its own inner network. Due to that, what is noted is that increasing numbers of pilgrims from the East come to visit his shrine at the directive of their current pir or sheik, as the case may be.29 Whereas in the West, spiritual seekers also appear to find their way to the Bawa Muhaiyaddeen Fellowship. Therein is the archive of thousands of hours of audio and video recordings of Bawa’s oral discourses. Those are being translated, transcribed, and diligently digitalized while being published at their own print shop for the dissemination of his teachings. Observing this work of his original followers and the new ones who joined after his demise, one can see that for them it is an act of devotion.30 Listening to Bawa’s discourses and reading the translated and transcribed versions of those is revelatory, to say the least. Like other mystics from the Islamic tradition, it is like a stream flowing and configuring according to the contours of the terrain of the listener’s psyche. Followers 28  Saiyida Zakiya Hasna Islam, “Bawa Muhaiyaddeen: A Study of Mystical Interreligiosity,” Ph.D. diss., Temple University, 2017. Proquest (10287100), 179–181. 29  See Webb (2013, p. 204) and Islam (2017, pp. 107–108). 30  Webb (2013, p. 203).

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of Bawa attest to the fact that he had insight into the needs of each individual and his message to each was according to the level of their comprehension and requirements. Oral discourses have emotive and evocative elements, as the tenor and the tone of the narrator add deeper nuances to the listener. These define the teaching methodology of mystics for the common masses. Consequently, assimilating mystical knowledge becomes deeply experiential. The flow of the discourses is one of reiteration through repetition that is revelatory in its course of gradual realization. This allows for the unconscious assimilation of key concepts and terms in the listener’s psyche. Bawa’s western listeners assimilated Islamic terms like Islam, Tawheed, Taqwa, Tawakkul, qalb, sabur, shukur, and alhamdulliah,31 while the Muslim listeners were initiated into mining the depths of those terms. Apparently complex concepts like the Insan-e-Kameel were similarly comprehended. In his discourses and songs, Bawa Muhaiyaddeen played verbal somersaults with symbolism. Just as the listener was settling into a particularity for the significance of a symbol, Bawa would take it off on an entirely different trajectory. For example, the sun, from being a symbol of the Divine, elsewhere weaves into the passage of the sun as it moves from the East to the West signifying the process of the journey of the human being to be realized into the Perfect Man. The completion occurs when the sun “flares at the moment it sets.” The depth of the significance here is in the juncture of the complete disappearance of the “ego” self at the ultimate merging Point when “Light disappears into Light.”32 At other times Bawa Muhaiyaddeen melds terms using double meanings such as the “son of God” and the “sun of God.” to illustrate human potential. Realization of the ultimate Truth of Oneness comes through intuitive leaps—hence Bawa Muhaiyaddeen’s dialectical method in his discourses. His narratives are pervaded with linguistic acrobatics that break down the analytical mind and gear one to the primacy of the heart to absorb the “Point.” This very term goes through a rotating prism of being both a verb and noun and modifier for the realization of the ultimate “Point” from which all emanates and then returns. Bawa continued that legacy and also had many spiritual paintings to enhance those experiences through that visual medium. 31  Sabur, Shukur, Alhamdulliah can be somewhat translated as Patience, Gratitude, and All Praise to God, respectively. These are significant terms with deep spiritual connotations in the Muslim tradition. Bawa’s discourses were permeated with those. 32  Muhaiyaddeen, The Map (Philadelphia: The Fellowship Press, 2006), 14.

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In the context of this chapter, the most distinctive feature of Bawa’s teachings was his interreligiosity, which is common to the universal mystic vision. However, Bawa stands out in bringing together two apparently diametrically opposite faith traditions in his discourses. Tales from image-­ ridden Hinduism and totally imageless Islam are woven together seamlessly to bring out the depths of his messages. Bawa came to the West in 1971 when the spiritual seekers had turned to the eastern traditions in their counter-culture quest. Bawa to them was the quintessential Hindu guru. Through tales from the ancient and the Judeo-Christian traditions, he steered them into the deeper significances of those messages. Mostly the meanings they had learned were entirely overturned. A classic example is the popular tale of the contest for the prize of a special fruit between the two sons of Shiva, Ganesha and Murugan.33 Much revered by the Hindus, Ganesha is the elephant-headed pot-bellied popular god of success. The lesser esteemed Murugan is his handsome athletic spear-holding younger brother. The story goes that the race involved circling the world thrice. Murugan sets off immediately while Ganesha pondered on the impossibility of his ever winning. So, he circled his father, Shiva, thrice and told him that since he was Ganesha’s universe, that is what he chose to do. Pleased, Shiva awarded him the prized fruit. Murugan on his return was enraged at the duplicity and tore off his clothes and soared up with his spear aloft cutting through the spheres. In typical mystical method, Bawa overturns the traditional interpretation. He points out that the whole point of the race was to reveal to the brothers the limitation of the phenomenal world and to help them learn to transcend it. Murugan, through experiencing the world, acquired the clarity of “seeing” the world for what it was and gained wisdom. Consequently, his tearing off his clothes symbolizes his shedding off the dunya, or world,34 and soaring through the spheres, transcending the temporal by cutting off the veils of illusion. Such seamless blending of traditions and taking the psyche into the mystical stream of consciousness is classic Bawa. Overturning commonly held beliefs to shift into deeper levels is common to the mystical vision and a teaching tool for the mystics’ tales. Bawa was constantly reminding his followers that wisdom tales abound in all faith traditions.  Islam (2017, pp. 130–132).  The spiritual significance of this act is similar to St. Francis of Asisi’s stripping his clothes off before the bishop, to be garbed in the clothes of the Church. 33 34

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Biographically, Bawa truly belongs to the legacy of the folk figures into which anthropological researchers have delved. Tales of their advent in recorded time are always remarkable and nothing significant was known of their lives prior to that. Lore of one coming to the shore erect on two swiftly swimming crocodiles one foot on each, astride a giant fish or a royal Bengal tiger, floating in on a prayer mat, etc., surrounds the humble shrine structures on which is centered local piety.35 Bawa stepped into recorded history when he emerged out of the jungle in 1942. Nobody knows his actual age. His response to queries about his life was that those were not important—his message was. Unlike Bawa, we have much of the biographical details of Ibn Arabi. Born in the West in then Andalusia, he grew up among the elite and the educated milieu of that time. That milieu was distinctive in history for allowing trialoging among the three Abrahamic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.36 Consequently, Ibn Arabi’s interreligiosity encompasses those traditions. Whereas Bawa journeyed from the East to the West to be buried in the farthest West in the U.S., Ibn Arabi journeyed from the West to the Near East to be buried in Syria. Both chose to be buried in their new abode away from their birthplaces. Shifting to write about Ibn Arabi from Bawa is challenging, to say the least! Listeners of mystics like Bawa flow in the stream of his discourses into the deepest recesses of their hearts. This eventually enables them to begin to apprehend the Real. The nature of Ibn Arabi’s major writings, despite at times being in the oral format, appears to be more about the nature and process of mysticism at its deepest. His writings can be fathomed mostly by those who are already well-acquainted with the ma’rifa pathway. A small group of his disciples initiated the dissemination of his teachings. Posterity was either awed or threatened by those; some going as far as to view his writings as heresy—similar to what the Christian mystic Eckhart would have faced if he had lived longer.

35  See Islam (2017, p. 103). “The first encounter of the natives of the land with the newcomer is always depicted dramatically, such as them riding into the region astride a Bengal tiger or standing on a pair of swiftly swimming crocodiles, or riding on the back of a gigantic fish in the strong river currents. Metaphorically it bespeaks of the symbiotic relationship of such spiritual entities with nature.” 36  This was similar to what was happening in the twelfth- to thirteenth-century Abbasid court in Baghdad.

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The primacy of the Qur’an in Ibn Arabi’s writings is palpably paramount.37 His writings are explicitly permeated with Qur’anic verses delved at profound depths. As the final culminating message of completion through the seal of the prophets, he comprehends the Qur’an as speaking to all people of varying levels of comprehension based on their spiritual progression. What is significant is that “… If you study them and ponder them, you will learn that they are verses and indications of different matters, referring to a single entity (emphasis added).”38 Among the most significant contributions of Ibn Arabi is the doctrine of khayal (Creative Imagination).39 With this and the concept of barzakh (Isthmus), he explains how human beings were made to be the khalifas (vice regents) of creation. The cosmos is the ever-emanating divine manifestation of the One to the Many or tajalli (Divine Disclosure). When humans align to their dhat, or true essence, and realize the Truth, thereby they awaken to their participatory role in this ongoing cosmic creation. This role makes them the barzakh or the connecting Isthmus between the Creator and the Cosmos. Thus, awakening to their primal Adamic nature that has been taught all the “names” (Quran, 2:31–33) enables humans to assume such special roles of being the representative of the Divine in the cosmos. Needless to say, this is just a perfunctory explanation of these two very significant terms. Their profoundly varied meanings go well beyond this, and it is not possible to go into all those within the scope of this chapter. It is important to understand that Ibn Arabi stressed the literalness of the scriptures as per the context and was wary of resorting to interpreting perplexing imagery as symbols and metaphors. The context of the Creative Imagination makes the literalness relevant before going into the deeper significance, which with Ibn Arabi can be like diving into an ocean beyond all metaphor and symbolisms! His Fusus-e-Hikam is a testament to that. Ultimately, the cosmos is comparable to the Hindu concept of maya, which can be somewhat translated as illusion. So, in this illusory macrocosm the microcosm-human (sifat) has within the eternal essence (dhat). 37  It is important to note here that the messages of all Muslim mystics are infused with the Qur’an. However, with mystics like Bawa Muhaiyaddeen (RA), it is not evident because he spoke in Tamil. 38  Ibn Arabi, The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Book 3, ch. 32 (New York: Pir Press, 2019), 215. 39  It is important to note that Khayal, translated by William Chittick as the Creative Imagination, arises not from the mind, but from the heart as qalb.

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So, this brings in their thin membrane-like linking role as barzakh. The literalness of interpretation plays in at the microcosmic temporal level, transcending to the infinitude of interpretations at the essence level. The inclusivity of Ibn Arabi is probably best known with the master metaphor of the bezels in Fusus-e-Hikam, where each prophet in the Abrahamic tradition is a setting to conform to a gem of divine wisdom. Characteristically, in the ma’rifa method, at times the linguistic interplay fuses the gem and the setting as One.40 Following on the Muslim mystical method, Ibn Arabi’s narrative flows out spiraling into the divine manifestation to spring back to the Source Point of the only Reality, Tawheed. Permeated with direct Qur’anic verses, they appear to be evidently digging deep into those verses to display the gems of divine wisdom. For example, the Qur’an has the well-known story of Moses in the Pharaoh’s court stupefying the magicians with the apparent miracle of turning his staff into a snake that swallows up their conjured snakes. This tale goes into the profound explication of how the phenomenal world is ultimately all an illusion. Be it the magic of the magician or the miracles of a prophet or saint, it is the beholder’s sight that discerns true from false. Only the progression in an individual’s level of insight will allow them to “see” the truth, per se. Thus, the illusion-creators were startled into the truth of the Only Real as the Source of Moses’ miracle and in their awe the fear of the Pharaoh disappeared, and they prostrated to the “God of Moses.”41 Woven into the narratives is reference to Jesus’ breathing life into the clay birds within the larger context of the original Source of creation. So, Ibn Arabi views all manifestations to be taken literally as contemplative tools for human progression. The quest leads to a gradual unveiling into insights, to be eventually realized in the full potentiality of the Perfect Man by becoming a no-thing42—a “mirror” reflecting the Truth.43 40  See the introduction to Ibn Arabi’s The Bezels of Wisdom (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1980), pp. 16–17. 41  See Eric Winkel’s translation of Ibn Arabi’s The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-­ Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Book 3, ch. 40 (New York: Pir Press, 2019), 334–337. 42  Aligning with the dhat or essence, enables one to transcend their temporality and thereby the “thing-ness,” per se, of the phenomenal world. 43  See Chittick quoting Qûnawî, “The true Perfect Man is the barzakh between Necessity and possibility, the mirror that brings together in its essence and level the attributes and properties of Eternity and new arrival… He is the intermediary between the Real and creation (emphasis added),” in “Ibn ‘Arabî” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (2019); section 6.2, The Perfect Man.

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Progression through those insights is initiated with Taqwa as one goes deeper into the qalb or heart. Herein lies the distinction of humans being the vice regents of the Divine. So, in being an abd or slave of utter insignificance,44 one gains those insights and is transformed into their primordial archetypal adamic nature. This is where Ibn Arabi’s well-known doctrine of the Creative Imagination and concept of Isthmus comes in. It is when humans become aware of their role in the tajalli, or the divine manifestation, that is infinitely spiraling out in the cosmos, that the realized Insan-e-Kameel transcends his/her temporality and becomes aware of their participatory role in that process of creation. Thus, is he/she the Isthmus between the eternal Real and the temporal cosmos. Needless to say, these concepts are more profound in their multi-faceted significance as one delves deeper into Ibn Arabi. All eventually lead to the idea of the One as there is nothing else.45 This idea of Oneness appears to be a constant in the writings or oral discourses of mystics from all faith traditions. So Muslim mystics like Ibn Arabi or Bawa will be as much rooted in the Quran as will Christian mystics like Eckhart and Marguirete Porete in the Bible because “all of them, articulate about God with a single tongue (emphasis added).”46 So, what Dobie stated about Ibn Arabi and Eckhart about finding them in the “point of convergence” due to their having entered “the depths of their tradition”47 holds true for mystics of all traditions.

Conclusion Interreligiosity for Muslim mystics was evidently rooted in the Qur’an, which states of there being no distinction among the countless messengers sent for guidance throughout the ages in each time and clime. Thence 44  It is important to remember the connotation of abd here. It is the ability to overcome the egotistical mind and center oneself in the vitally central qalb or heart. The disappearance/effacement of the ego-self is the awakening to the Truth. Thus, the concept of abd is not the enslavement to another human being, but a liberation through the sacrifice of the ego and submission to the Divine, or the Real, which is a no-thing—being in-divinis, per se. 45  This assertion of there being just the One and nothing else is verbalized by the significant initial part of the shahada, the declaration of faith that is the first pillar of the Five Pillars of Islam. 46  Ibn Arabi, The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Book 3, chapter 35 (New York: Pir Press, 2019), 265. 47  Robert J.  Dobie, Logos & Revelation: Ibn Arabi, Meister Eckhart, and Mystical Hermeneutics (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 14.

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comes the integrative vision of Muslim mystics. For example, Bawa viewed the different traditions as the four necessary steps in human progression.48 In these steps, Bawa merged Buddhism with Hinduism and Judaism with Islam. The other two were Zoroastrianism and Christianity. The tales for his teaching tools were drawn from the ancient traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism as well as the Abrahamic traditions with references to Krishna, Buddha, and many of the Abrahamic prophets including Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad (Sal). Again, what pervades and permeates Ibn Arabi’s writings is the distinctive integrative roles of all the Abrahamic prophets in human progression. The idea reiterated in many ways is what he said “… from Adam to Muḥammad, there is no disagreement … concerning the qualities and adjectives they relate to God. In fact, … the books they brought, all of them,(emphasis added) … Not two among them disagree; they affirm each other.”49 His writings are infused with Qur’anic references. Notably in his Fusus-e-Hikam, each prophet is presented as a prismatic facet of the gemstones of hikma (divine wisdom). He described his journey starting out in the spirit of Jesus (Isawi), to that of Moses (Musawi),50 and then the other prophets.51 There was no chronological order to that progression as it reached its completion, with Muhammad as the final seal to the prophetic legacy. In the final analysis, all mystics converge on the point of the single Truth of Oneness. This is illustrated by these two Muslim mystics from two very different eras and regions with apparently divergent modes of teaching. This transcending of all the seeming separations and differences in the temporal world is at the core of the mystic vision from all traditions. This bespeaks of the inherent interreligiosity in them, which paves the way for others to emulate their approach. For Muslims the faith in Tawheed, the crux of Islam, initiates the experiential journey which is increasingly revelatory to be realized into the Truth of Tawheed. The Only Real is this Oneness.

 See Muhaiyaddeen’s Four Steps to Pure Iman (Philadelphia: Fellowship Press, 1979).  See Ibn Arabi’s The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Book 3, 265 (New York: Pir Press, 2019), 285. 50  The Quranic Arabic names for Moses and Jesus are Musa and Isa, respectively, hence attributive terms Musawi and Isawi derive from those and are pervasive in Ibn Arabi’s writings, i.e., see The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, 285–293. 51  Ibn Arabi’s The Openings Revealed in Makkah: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, 285. 48 49

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Bibliography Al Arabi, Ibn. The Bezels of Wisdom. Translated by R. W. J. Austin. Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1980. ________.The Meccan Revelations, Vol. II. Edited by Michel Chodkiewicz; translated by Cyrille Chodkiewicz and Denis Gril. New York: Pir Press, 2004. ________.The Meccan Revelations, Vol. I. Edited by Michel Chodkiewicz, translated by William J. Chittick and James W. Morris. New York: Pir Press, 2005. ________.The Alchemy of Human Happiness, Introduction and translation by Stephen Hirtenstein. Oxford, UK: Anqa Publishing, 2017. ________.The Openings Revealed in Mecca: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Bks. 1 & 2. Translated by Shu’ayb Eric Winkel. New York: Pir Press, 2018. ________.The Openings Revealed in Mecca: al-Futuhat al-Makkiyah, Bks. 3 & 4. Translated by Shu’ayb Eric Winkel. New York: Pir Press, 2020. Al Arabı ̄, Ibn, and Stephen Hirtenstein. The Alchemy of Human Happiness = Fı ̄ Maʻrifat kı ̄miyāʼ Al-saʻāda. Oxford: Anqa Publishing, 2017. Chittick, William. “The Anthropology of Compassion.” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 48 (2010): 1–17. ________. “The Doorway to an Intellectual Tradition.” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 59 (2016): 1–15. ________. “Ibn ‘Arabî.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Stanford University, August 2, 2019. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ibn-­arabi/. Dobie, Robert J. Logos & Revelation: Ibn Arabi, Meister Eckhart, and Mystical Hermeneutics. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010. Islam, Saiyida Zakiya Hasna. “Bawa Muhaiyaddeen: A Study of Mystical Interreligiosity.” Ph.D. diss., Temple University, 2017. Proquest (10287100). Lewisohn, Leonard. “Sufism’s Religion of Love, from Rābi‘a to Ibn ‘Arabı ̄.” In The Cambridge Companion to Sufism, 150–80. Ed. Lloyd Ridgeon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Morris, James. “Divine Calling, Human Response: Scripture and Realization in the Meccan Illuminations.” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society 53 (2013): 12. Bawa Muhaiyaddeen Fellowship. https://www.bmf.org/. Muhaiyaddeen, M.  R. Bawa. Four Steps to Pure Iman. Philadelphia: Bawa Muhaiyaddeen Fellowship, 1979. ________. Four Steps to Pure Iman: Explanations of a Painting. Philadelphia, PA: Fellowship, 1970. ________. The Map of the Journey to God: Lessons from the School of Grace. Philadelphia, PA: Fellowship, 2006. Taji-Farouki, Suha. Beshara and Ibn Arabi: A Movement of Sufi Spirituality in the Modern World. Oxford, U.K.: Anqa Publishing, 2010. Webb, Gisela. “Negotiating Boundaries: American Sufis.” In The Cambridge Companion to American Islam, 190–207. Eds. Juliane Hammer and Omid Safi. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

CHAPTER 12

Al-Fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s and Eckhart’s Thoughts: The Annihilation of the Many in the One Hussam S. Timani

This chapter discusses the mystical concept of al-fana’ (the annihilation of the self) in the thoughts of the Muslim mystic Muhyi al-Din ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240)1 and the Christian mystic and theologian Meister Eckhart (d. 1328). It also demonstrates that mystical traditions in both Islam and Christianity provide the theological models to transform the self (and the world) from ‘ubudiyya (slavehood: serving or worshipping other than God) to ‘ubuda (servitude: serving or worshipping one God). This chapter argues that the concept of al-fana’ is a theological paradigm that helps the individual make the flight from her/his own ego to God. This flight  Ibn ‘Arabi is one of the most influential thinkers in the history of Islam, and the complex nature of his works deterred many scholars both in the Muslim world and in the West from analyzing and building on his mystical philosophical thoughts. 1

H. S. Timani (*) Christopher Newport University, Newport News, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_12

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toward God is the transformation of the self (the individual) into a new human being who accepts the “other” as the “self.” Ibn ‘Arabi is selected for this project because his definition of al-fana’ is more compatible with the Islamic doctrine of tawhid (the oneness of God) vis-à-vis other Sufis whose understanding of the concept reveals a more pantheistic nature.2 Eckhart’s mystical philosophy and his approach to fana’ contributes to our understanding of the concept as well as helps us better understand Ibn ‘Arabi’s fana’, for his thoughts on mysticism are very similar to Ibn ‘Arabi’s. Mystical traditions have theological paradigms that call believers to think of the divine as an absolute reality beyond the possibilities of human conception (tanzih). Plato, making this distinction between the absolute reality and the human conception, argues that this world is a single unity, made up of one reality, which is being hidden by the world of diversity.3 In the words of Jonathan Sacks, “Truth is the same for everyone, everywhere.” When we reach this level of exploring God in the “other,” we attain the knowledge of the divine that we are seeking through annihilative transformation.4 The importance of this chapter lies in its interreligious, comparative theological approach as it discusses the concept of al-fana’ in both Christianity and Islam and introduces a new paradigm in the fields of comparative theology and interreligious/interfaith studies. This chapter builds on the work of Syafaatun Almirzanah, who engaged the mystical thoughts

2  Some Sufis believe that the term wahdat al-wujud denotes that God is the totality of all existing things. On the contrary, Ibn ‘Arabi and other Sufis see wahdat al-wujud as God is the only reality and all things are the totality of His manifestation that cannot exist without His existence. See, for example, Jamil Saliba, al-Mu‘jam al-Falsafi, vol. 2 (Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kitab al-Lubnani, 1982), 569; ‘Abd al-Rahman Badawi, Mawsu‘at al-Falsafa, vol. 2 (Beirut, Lebanon: Al-Mu’assassa al-‘Arabiyya lil Dirasat, 1984), 623–624; Muhammad ‘Abid al-Jabiri, Bunyat al-‘Aql al-‘Arabi, 9th ed. (Beirut, Lebanon: Markaz Dirasat al-Wihda al-‘Arabiyya, 2009), 359; William Stoddart, Sufism: The Mystical Doctrines and Methods of Islam (New York: Paragon House, 1985), 43; ‘Abd al-Ghani al-Nabulsi, Idah al-Maqsud min ma‘na Wahdat al-Wujud, ed. by ‘Izza Hasriyya, (Damascus, Syria: Matba‘at al-‘Ilm, 1969), 27–29. 3  Francis MacDonald Cornford, ed., The Republic of Plato (New York: Oxford University Press, 1945), 227–235. 4  Jonathan Sacks, “The Dignity of Difference: Avoiding the Clash of Civilizations,” The Review of Faith & International Affairs (Summer 2009): 38.

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of both Ibn ‘Arabi and Eckhart “towards a new matrix for Christian-­ Muslim dialogue.”5 The new paradigm lies at the intersection of mysticism and interreligious studies in both Christianity and Islam. The few scholars6 who have explored interreligious studies in both Christianity and Islam have done so from a theological and scriptural approach. For instance, these scholars have used religious foundations (i.e., theological views on the nature of God, textual claims, scriptural reasoning, and historical events) to construct interfaith theologies in both Christianity and Islam. This project departs from this mainstream, orthodox approach and rather applies a more esoteric and theosophical understanding of how Christianity and Islam can come together in the age of globalization. The writings of the most prominent mystical philosophers in both traditions, Ibn ‘Arabi and Eckhart, are used to arrive to the common word in both Christianity and Islam.

Al-Fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s Thought The source of the fana’7 concept in ibn ‘Arabi’s thought is rooted in the most important doctrine in Islam, the tawhid or the oneness of God. Tawhid in mystical Islam, Seyyed Hossein Nasr tells us, “is the integration of man in all the depth and breadth of his existence.”8 It is the integration of man with the whole universe, of man with other man, of man with God, of the other with the self. It is the union and the integration of the many

5  Syafaatun Almirzanah, When Mystic Masters Meet: Towards a New Matrix for ChristianMuslim Dialogue (New York: Blue Dome Press, 2011). 6  See Basit Bilal Koshul, “The Qur’anic Self, the Biblical Other and the Contemporary Islam-West Encounter,” in Steven Kepnes and Basit Bilal Koshul, eds., Scripture, Reason, and the Contemporary Islam-West Encounter: Studying the “Other,” Understanding the “Self” (New York: Palgrave Macmillan Press, 2008); Irfan A.  Omar, ed., A Muslim View of Christianity: Essays on Dialogue by Mahmoud Ayoub (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007). 7  In Arabic, the term fana’, a derivation from the root letters fa’-nun-ya’, means to pass away, to perish, or to undergo annihilation. According to The Hans Wehr Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, the mystical connotation of fana’ is “extinction of individual consciousness, recedence of the ego and obliteration of the self. J.  M. Cowan, Hans Wehr Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, 4th edition (Urbana, IL: Spoken Language Services, Inc., 1994), 854. 8  Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Sufi Essays, 2nd ed. (Albany, NY: State University of New  York Press, 1991), 43.

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in the One. Also, what lies at the heart of Sufism or Islamic gnosis (‘irfan) is the doctrine of the transcendent unity of Being (wahdat al-wujud). The source of this doctrine, according to Nasr, “is an experience of the Unity of Being, an experience … which can enable man to transcend the world of multiplicity and to reach the stations of annihilation (fana’) and subsistence (baqa’)9 wherein he gains vision of the ultimate oneness of all things in their transcendent Origin.”10 For Ibn ‘Arabi, wahdat al-wujud is the “oneness” or “unity of finding.” What this implies is that the “search for God as ‘other’ does not entail a discovery of an irresolvable dichotomy between creation and the Creator … but rather a discovery that all of creation is a stunning manifestation of the oneness of the divine Being that ultimately admits no duality.”11 And the oneness of all things does not negate the many; rather, “it projects, embraces, encompasses, penetrates and re-integrates the many.”12 Therefore, in regard to humankind, all humans are one in their humanity, for “humanity is the defining reality of each human soul”13 because, as the Qur’an tells us, all souls were created from a single soul (Qur’an 31:28)14 and whoever kills an innocent life, it is as if he had killed all humankind, and whoever saves a life, it is as if he had saved all humankind (Qur’an 5:32). Thus, in the esoteric, gnostic, or Sufi tradition, tawhid eliminates “the gap or boundary between creator and creatures, self and others, and being and nothingness.”15 Al-fana’ is defined as the passing away of the feeling or awareness of the self. It is the replacement of human attributes with divine ones. In other words, al-fana’ is the annihilation of the vile (lower) attributes and the remaining (continuation) of the praised (higher) ones.16 Al-fana’ in the Sufi tradition is of two states: The first is the witnessing of nothing except God (la yura shay’an ghayr allah). This is referred to as the Oneness of 9  Baqa’, a derivation from the root letter ba’-qaf-ya’, means to remain, to continue. The terms fana’ and baqa’ appear in verse 55:26 of the Qur’an: “All that dwells upon the earth is perishing (fanin), yet still abides (yabqa) the Face of Thy Lord, majestic, splendid.” 10  Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Islamic Life and Thought (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1981), 174–175. 11  Almirzanah, When Mystic Masters Meet, 169. 12  Reza Shah-Kazemi, The Other in the Light of the One: The Understanding of the Qur’an and Interfaith Dialogue (Cambridge, UK: Islamic Texts Society, 2006), 97. 13  Ibid. 14  Jane McAuliffe, ed., The Qur’an (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2017) is used to cite the Qur’an throughout this chapter. 15  Robert E.  Carter, “God and Nothingness,” Philosophy East & West 59, 1 (January 2009): 1. 16  Saliba, al-Mu‘jam, vol. 2, 167.

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Witnessing (wahdat al-shuhud). The second is the realization of God in all existence (la yura shay’an illa wa yura allah fih). This is known as the Oneness of Being (wahdat al-wujud). Wahdat al-shuhud is the tasting of the unity of being, while wahdat al-wujud is the knowledge of that unity. The former is the state of fana’ (annihilation), while the latter is the state of baqa’ (remaining). Both al-fana’ and al-baqa’ are tied to each other. To experience one is to experience the other. Same goes for wahdat al-shuhud and wahdat al-wujud. When the person passes away in the one, he remains in the other, and when a person remains in the one, he passes away in the other.17 The general understanding of al-fana’ in the Sufi tradition is the eradication of the human essence and the remaining in the divine essence. As such, it is an experience of effacement and absence of the senses, feelings, and thoughts and the realization of a different presence and consciousness. In al-fana’, a person ceases from knowing anything of his human characteristics because he is present in a second nature, a divine human nature. He is in a state of remaining after the passing away from all human traits. Al-fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s thought has another meaning. He sees al-fana’ as the merging and the annihilation of the individual essence (al-dhat al-­ fardiyya) in its one Being in a kind of presence that asserts the unity of being resulting from God’s manifestation. All material and spiritual existences are nothing but the manifestations of God’s name and attributes. Al-fana’ for Ibn ‘Arabi is the annihilation of the world’s particular things in the Oneness of the Divine. The divine essence is one and al-fana’ is the experience the gnostic goes through as a step toward realizing this truth.18 Ibn ‘Arabi says: No eye sees but Him And no judgment falls except on Him We are His, of Him, and in His hands And in any state, we are with Him.19

According to Ibn ‘Arabi, whoever sees the truth through God’s eyes is the gnostic. Whoever sees the truth through his own eyes is not a gnostic. 17  Nuhad Khayyata, al-Tasawuf al-Islami Bayna Wahdat al-Shuhud wa Wahdat al-Wujud. http://maaber.50megs.com. Retrieved on April 7, 2021. 18  Ibn ‘Arabi, Fusus, vol. 1, 113–114. 19  Ibid., 113.

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And whoever fails to see the truth through God’s eyes and yet tries to see it through his own eyes is the ignorant.20 Al-fana’ in Ibn ‘Arabi’s thought means that the gnostic is unaware of anything except one single truth. Only the gnostic is aware of this reality, while the masses become aware of it after death. Thus, al-fana’ is a kind of absence accompanied by uncovering and witnessing. It is a knowledge whose purpose is to pass away from seeing the many rather than the annihilation of the many. God’s manifestation in all things results from the divine’s longing to his servant the same way the servant longs for His God. The passion and longing to meeting the divine is a reality existing continuously because the truth is always apparent in the Creator’s existents.21 Ibn ‘Arabi tells us that the Divine Reality transcends the realm of perception, it is the unseen. If created things cease to be seen, then they pass to the state of nonexistence (fana’) but remain in the eternal. The many will now exist in the One, and the hierarchical order of the things will achieve its union with the One. At this stage, the hierarchy of things becomes one with only one name attached to it. In the One, all things cease to exist and what remains is God’s essence.22 Ibn ‘Arabi explains alfana’ as a “state of union with God which is debarred to those preoccupied with their own self-centeredness. It ensures the perishing of one’s personal ego and its mystical survival within God’s Being.”23 The following lines of Ibn ‘Arabi’s poetry explain the concept of al-fana’: If I perish, I exist no longer; and if I remain, I exist no longer. All of us are meant to be for all of us, and all of us emerged from the Divine Decree of “Exist!” If you say “I am one,” you are telling the truth And if you say “We are not one” you have not told a lie.24

 Ibid.  Muhammad al-Munsif bin al-Bashir, Falsafat Ibn ‘Arabi fi al-Ma‘rifa wa al-wujud (n.c.: ‘Alam al-Kutub al-Hadith, 2016), 205. 22  Mahmud ‘Abd al-Karim al-Nimri, ed., Rasa’il Ibn ‘Arabi (Beirut, Lebanon: Dar alKutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 2001), 17. 23  M. Saidi, “Ibn ‘Arabi’s Sufi and Poetic Experiences” (MA thesis, University of Western Cape, 2004), 77. 24  Ibn ‘Arabi, al-Futuhat al-Makkiyya, vol. 6, Ahmad Shams al-Din, ed. (Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1999), 362–363. 20 21

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These lines by Ibn ‘Arabi serve as a reminder that people of diverse backgrounds are one in their humanity. No religion, ethnicity, or race is at the center and no one is at the margin. Either all are at the center or all are at the margin. In al-Futuhat al-Makkiyya, Ibn ‘Arabi discusses seven categories of the concept of al-fana’ as he gives more details on what he means by the term. He writes that al-fana’ is the annihilation of the human attributions or qualifications (sifat). What we call human attributions, Ibn ‘Arabi tells us, is the truth (al-haq) in us, not the attribution. As to the existence that God created, He does not see in it except Himself. Moreover, God has created al-fana’ in our perception of God, in this world as well as in the next. We see the truth not because of our perception but because we see God through His own perception. The person who goes through this experience and comes back from it does not actually realize what he/she went through because that person had experienced al-fana’.25 Ibn ‘Arabi indicates that al-fana’ is also the annihilation of the essence or self (dhat). This fana’ is the witnessing or the realization of the nonexistence of the self. Ibn ‘Arabi gives an example of a teacher who rejected the concept of al-fana’ and then experienced it. The teacher narrates that one day when the town was waiting for the Commander of the Faithful (Amir al-Mu’minin) to enter the town with his entourage, he, the teacher, was in the crowd and suddenly when he saw the Commander of the Faithful he went into nonexistence (funitu ‘an nafsi). He says that his self was annihilated so that his existence turned into nonexistence, not seeing, hearing, or feeling anything except the person of the Commander of the Faithful. No one even was aware of his presence being in the middle of the road. He adds that he was unaware of his own self standing in the crowd and unaware that he was looking straight at the Commander of the Faithful. What he experienced is the annihilation of his own existence in the existence of another being, the Commander of the Faithful. When the latter passed him, he returned to his prior existence before the fana’. This fana’, according to Ibn ‘Arabi, is the annihilation of the self in another being (makhluq). If this annihilation is so great and satisfying, then how would the annihilation in the Creator (al-Khaliq) feel?26 Al-fana’ for Ibn ‘Arabi is also the annihilation of all existence except God’s existence. This fana’ is different from the fana’ in another being for  Ibid., vol. 4, 213.  Ibid., 214.

25 26

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there is no witnessing of the nonexistence of the self (i.e., the teacher witnessing his nonexistence through his annihilation in the Commander of the Faithful). In this fana’, the annihilated self does not witness anything before witnessing God, meaning witnessing nothing but God.27 For Ibn ‘Arabi, the relationship between God and the existence represents a unity rather than separation or dualism. This relationship, which is known as the unity of being, compels the gnostic to search and inquire about the secrets of the existence that it was created for. Ibn ‘Arabi warns against a unity of being composed of both God’s essence and human essence, for God does not resemble anything and cannot be compared to anything. The unity of being is the acknowledgment that God is incomparable.28

Al-Fana’ in Eckhart’s Thought Like Ibn ‘Arabi a century earlier, Eckhart echoed the concept of al-fana’ in his sermons as he affirmed wahdat al-wujud of God and all beings. The German mystic uses the term annihilation in his sermons when he says that the soul has “‘annihilated’ (vernihtet) itself of all its desires, passions, and worldly inclinations.”29 Eckhart speaks of this fana’ when he says that the soul is “free from time and place” and that the soul “loses all sense of time in an ecstasy.”30 For Eckhart, we are the same being with God and one should not think of God as outside oneself, but “as my own and within me.”31 The German mystic expresses the concept of al-fana’ more profoundly in the following words: “God’s being [wesen] is my life. If God’s being is my life, then God’s existence [sin] must be my existence and His essence [isticheit] my essence, neither more or less.… God is nearer to the soul than it is to itself.”32 He adds: “In this life all things are one, they are

 Ibid.  See Ibn ‘Arabi, Fusus al-Hikam, vol. 1, ed. by Abu al-‘Ala’ Afifi (Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kitab al-‘Arabi, n.d.), 26. 29  Richard Kieckhefer, “Meister Eckhart’s Conception of Union with God,” Harvard Theological Review 71, 3/4 (Jul.-Oct. 1978): 210. 30  Hermann Kunisch, “Offenbarung und Gehorsam: Versuch uber Eckharts religiose Personlichkeit,” in Udo M.  Nix and Raphael Ochslin, eds., Meister Eckhart der Prediger: Festschrift zum Eckhart-Gedenkjahr (Freiburg: Herder, 1960), 117–18 and 129. 31  Kieckhefer, “Meister Eckhart’s Conception,” 208. 32  Ibid., 209. 27 28

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all together all in all, and all united in all.”33 All the parts in the body, he points out, are united in such a way that the “eye belongs to foot and foot to eye. Could the foot speak, it would declare that the eye seems rather in the foot than in the head, and the eye would say the same the other way about.”34 He adds that the grace which is in Mary is really more in an angel (although it is in Mary), and everything that is in Mary is in every saint and he enjoys it more than if it were his own.35 This notion echoes Ibn ‘Arabi’s doctrine of al-fana’ and al-baqa’ (i.e., the eye passes away from the head but remains in the foot, and the grace that is in Mary is also in an angel). In other words, to pass away in the one is to remain in the other and to remain in the one is to pass away in the other. Eckhart goes on to say, “What someone possesses in the beyond, another possesses equally––not as acquired from him or taken from him, but as dwelling in himself, so that the grace which is in the one is fully also in the other, exactly as one’s own grace.”36 Eckhart says that we possess an identity identical to God that “makes us see him in his divinity.” He adds that we are the “identical being and the identical substance and nature that he is himself.” God makes us know himself by his act of knowing. For him to make us know and for us to know are one and the same thing. Hence, according to Eckhart, God’s knowledge is ours. Since His knowledge is ours, and since His substance is His knowledge, His nature, and His being, it follows that His being, His substance, and His nature are ours.37 The concept of al-fana’ in Eckhart’s thought is nicely illustrated in one sermon where he says that the soul “is enchanted in wondrous manner and loses itself, like a drop of water poured into a tub of wine, so that it knows nothing of itself and thinks it is God … whenever two become one, one must lose its being. Thus, when God and the soul become one, the soul must lose its being and life.”38 As the soul merges with God, it falls “‘into its nothingness’ (nihtes niht).”39 It is important to note that the concept of al-fana’ in Eckhart’s thought (or the annihilation of the soul 33  Reiner Schurmann, Meister Eckhart: Mystic and Philosopher (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1978), 132. 34  Franz Pfeiffer, Meister Eckhart (London: John M. Watkins, 1956), 32. 35  Ibid. 36  Schurmann, Meister Eckhart, 133. 37  Ibid. 38  Kieckhefer, “Meister Eckhart’s Conception,” 215–16. 39  Ibid.

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in God) does not translate into complete nonexistence; rather, when there is a union between the soul and God, the soul preserves its individuality but loses consciousness of it.40 This is similar to Ibn ‘Arabi’s claims that when the soul is annihilated in the one, it remains in the other, and when it remains in the one, it passes away in the other.41 The concept of al-fana’ in Eckhart’s thought also means the denying of the self and all forms imprinted in us. For Eckhart, since it is God’s nature not to be like anyone, then we are nothing, so we become him. When we cease seeing ourselves in any form, when no form is imprinted in us, and when we expelled whatever is in us, then we pass away into God. Then we are translated into God and we become one with him: “One sole substance, one being, and one nature.”42 Then we become all things, as he is, and we are one and the same being with him. For man to become one with God, all inadequacies must be eradicated. “Only then may we be all in all, as God is all in all.”43 According to Reiner Schurmann, Eckhart presents a concept of al-­ fana’ that is voluntary. In the words of Schurmann, “voluntary annihilation and equanimity belong together as the condition and the consequence of detachment.”44 The concept that we are nothing is a “fine definition of what we call Dissimilarity.”45 God alone is being and existing; we are nothing and not existing. Creation is nothing and what is created is nothing. This is called the “theory of the creature’s nothingness.”46 What Eckhart means of transporting the self into the “naked being of God” is to “actively become the nothing that we are,”47 to exterminate the nothingness (the inadequacies of the ego) in us. In the nakedness of God, all existents return to their nothingness, to what they were before being created. They return to what they were not: “all in all, as God is all in all.”48 This return to what they were when they were not echoes the Qur’anic call for the soul to return to its Creator, content in His good pleasure (Q. 89:28).

 Ibid., 216.  Khayyata, al-Tasawuf al-Islami. 42  Schurmann, Meister Eckhart, 134. 43  Ibid., 133–134. 44  Ibid., 167. 45  Ibid. 46  Ibid. 47  Ibid. 48  Ibid., 168. 40 41

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Eckhart expresses his thoughts on the concept of al-fana’ in his sermons on the relation of the soul to God. For him, the soul finds its ultimate pleasure in knowing God, that is, becoming one with the Creator in a “transcendental union.”49 Eckhart speaks of this union in Trinitarian terms. He speaks of the “Father’s eternal begetting of the Son in that noble part of the soul that stands outside place and time.”50 The concept of al-fana’ is also expressed in Eckhart’s thought on love, a principal theme in his mystical theology.51 For the Meister, according to Charlotte Radler, both love and being are fused together to overcome duality and form the “deepest indistinct union.”52 Eckhart’s sermons on love “communicate the relational unity between being and love in God … [for] God … exists and lives in and through a kenotic, relational movement.”53 This relational movement leads to perfect love, which is free of differences of degree or order, since it is One.54 For Eckhart, perfect love is God who loves only God’s self since God is the only perfect love that exists in creation. “God loves everything that is because it is (God).”55 Eckhart’s fusion of love and being and the merger of identities between God and the human communicate the Meister’s notion of “one vision, one love, and one understanding.”56 In one of his sermons, Eckhart claims that “the person who truly loves God becomes God, for this kind of love demands oneness … Love always seeks to become One with the beloved.”57 Eckhart’s fusion of God and the human means the “disintegration of the God-creature, subject-object, and self-other distinctions.”58 For Eckhart, love “unites as the lover is transformed into the beloved. In order for two to become one, one of the lovers must wholly lose its being (wesen) and sink itself into the being of its lover.”59 For Eckhart, in order for two to 49  Bernard McGinn, “The God Beyond God: Theology and Mysticism in the Thought of Meister Eckhart,” The Journal of Religion 61, 1 (January 1981): 8. 50  Ibid. 51  Charlotte Radler, “‘In love I am more God’: The Centrality of Love in Meister Eckhart’s Mysticism,” The Journal of Religion 90, 2 (April 2010), 172. 52  Ibid., 177. 53  Ibid., 183. 54  Ibid., 184. 55  Ibid. 56  Ibid., 185. 57  Ibid. 58  Ibid. 59  Ibid., 186.

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become one, there needs to be a shift from loving one another to loving in another. “If the soul loves God perfectly, it is in God and equal to God.”60 Eckhart’s theme on love echoes the notion of al-fana’ as expressed in Ibn ‘Arabi’s thought on the oneness of being. For Ibn ‘Arabi, there is a reciprocal love between God and His creation as stated in the Qur’an: “He loves them and they love Him back” (Q. 5:54). Only those who experience al-fana’ can perceive this Divine Love (“al-hub al-ilahi”). Ibn ‘Arabi says: No one knows its limits. It is only delimited by formal and linguistic boundaries. The one who never tasted it does not know it. If anyone says: I have satisfied my thirst with it, does not know for love is not thirst-quenching drink. When a person who was veiled from knowing the truth said: I drank such a substance that I have never felt thirsty thereafter, Abu Yazid replied: The enlightened is the person who drinks all the waters of the oceans but his tongue hangs out on his chest yearning for more.61

For Ibn ‘Arabi, al-fana’ enables the enlightened to be thirsty for God’s Love as God yearns to love them back. Divine Love, according to Ibn ‘Arabi, creates Divine Vision in the enlightened as nothing can be seen without Him. “This glittering light extends from God to the entities so that they may reveal Him. … [This] renders the enlightened worthy of Divine Love which results in their attachment to nothing.”62

The Theology of al-Fana’: The Annihilation of the Many in the One A theology of al-fana’ in the twenty-first century is essential to eliminate all forms of prejudices and divisions, for mysticism, as Walter T.  Stace points out, is “the apprehension of an ultimate nonsensuous unity in all things, a oneness or a One to which neither the senses nor the reason can penetrate.”63 Mysticism in general and the concept of al-fana’ in  Ibid.  Ibn ‘Arabi, al-Futuhat, vol. 3, 165. 62  Y.  Dadoo, “Religious Pluralism for Ibn ‘Arabi: The Outcome of Divine Love and Mercy,” Religion & Theology 14 (2007): 121. 63  Walter T.  Stace, The Teachings of the Mystics (New York: New American Library, 1960), 14–15. 60 61

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particular are able to provide the theological foundation for both Christianity and Islam to unite their efforts against the challenges of today’s world. After all, Eckhart reminds us that in order to become one, there needs to be a shift from loving one another to loving in another. Loving in another echoes Ibn ‘Arabi’s Divine Love, which helps us detach ourselves from all entities that prevent us from becoming one. This is precisely what a theology of al-fana’ is capable of. In our present reality, we can achieve this Eckhartian model “when the ego-consciousness is completely dissolved into the consciousness of Reality, or rather, consciousness which is Reality.”64 The concept of al-fana’, or to love in the other, is “man’s experiencing the total annihilation of his own ego and consequently of all things that have been related to the ego in the capacity of its objects of cognition and volition.”65 Al-fana’ is “the ontological stage of ‘unification,’” or gathering, when the “essential demarcations separating one thing from another, are no longer here,” and when “multiplicity is no longer observable.”66 Al-fana’ can be achieved, as Toshihiko Izutsu points out, when “there is no ego-consciousness left.”67 The transformation of the self materializes only when the seeker of transformation, as Ibn al‘Arabi tells us, “empties his heart of reflective [i.e., speculative] thoughts, and when he sits in poverty, having nothing, at the door of his Lord, then God will bestow upon him and give him something of knowledge of Him…”68 The seeker of annihilative transformation (fana’; renouncing everything other than God) in Eckhart’s and Ibn al-‘Arabi’s thought is the “flight to God,” a flight not from one thing toward another, since there is nothing other than God. The result of transformation of the self, for Ibn ‘Arabi, is the perfect human being, “whose heart is the polished mirror which reflects, as perfectly as possible, the attributes of God.”69 Similarly, for Eckhart, the result of the transformation of the self is the Nobleman who can say: “God and I, we are one. I accept God into me in knowing: I go into God in loving.”70

64  Toshihiko Izutsu, Creation and the Timeless Order of Things: Essays in Islamic Mystical Philosophy (Ashland, OR: White Cloud Press, 1994), 11. 65  Ibid., 13. 66  Ibid., 15. 67  Ibid., 16. 68  Almirzanah, When Mystics Meet, 185. 69  Ibid., 190. 70  Ibid.

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Conclusion This chapter has explored the concept of al-fana’ in both Christianity and Islam from the perspectives of two prominent figures in the traditions. Ibn ‘Arabi’s and Eckhart’s mystical philosophy on the unity of being and the annihilation of man and the world in God contributes to our understanding of what it means to come together in our diversity as a unity. This chapter has also demonstrated that applying the concept of al-fana’ serves as a new paradigm to approach the field of interreligious/ interfaith studies and Christian-Muslim relations. Al-fana’ was chosen for this chapter because it is a shared concept in mystical Christianity and Islam that highlights the unity of the diversity and speaks to the importance on focusing on our shared humanity. It is the hope that this chapter will serve as a model for future projects on the concept of al-fana’ in particular and mystical philosophy in general to enrich our understanding of our shared humanity and help us reflect on the common word in both traditions. It is also the hope that further studies will continue to explore the concept of al-fana’ across religious traditions around the world.

Bibliography Almirzanah, Syafaatun. When Mystic Masters Meet: Towards a New Matrix for Christian-Muslim Dialogue. New York: Blue Dome Press, 2011. Badawi, ‘Abd al-Rahman. Mawsu‘at al-Falsafa. Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Mu’assassa al-‘Arabiyya lil Dirasat, 1984. Carter, Robert E. “God and Nothingness.” Philosophy East & West 59, 1 (January 2009): 1–21. Cornford, Francis McDonald. The Republic of Plato. New York: Oxford University Press, 1945. Cowan, J.  M. The Hans Wehr Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, 4th ed. Urbana, IL: Spoken Language Services, Inc., 1994. Dadoo, Y. “Religious Pluralism for Ibn ‘Arabi: The Outcome of Divine Love and Mercy.” Religion & Theology 14 (2007): 116–146. Ibn ‘Arabi. Al-Futuhat al-Makkiyya. Shams al-Din, Ahmad, ed. Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1999. Ibn ‘Arabi. Fusus al-Hikam. Afifi, Abu al-‘Ala’, ed. Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kitab al-‘Arabi, n.d.

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Izutsu, Toshihiko. Creation and the Timeless Order of Things: Essays in Islamic Mystical Philosophy. Ashland, OR: White Cloud Press, 1994. Al-Jabiri, Muhammad ‘Abid. Bunyat al-‘Aql al-‘Arabi, 9th ed. Beirut, Lebanon: Markaz Dirasat al-Wihda al-‘Arabiyya, 2009. Khayyata, Nuhad. Al-Tasawuf al-Islami Bayna Wahdat al-Shuhud wa Wahdat al-­ Wujud. http://maaber.50egs.com. Retrieved on April 7, 2021. Kieckhefer, Richard. “Meister Eckhart’s Conception of Union with God.” Harvard Theological Review 71, 3/4 (Jul.-Oct. 1978): 203–225. Koshul, Basit Bilal. “The Qur’anic Self, the Biblical Other and the Contemporary Islam-West Encounter.” In Steven Kepnes and Basit Bilal Koshul, eds., Scripture, Reason, and the Contemporary Islam-West Encounter: Studying the “Other,” Understanding the “Self.” New York: Palgrave Macmillan Press, 2008. Kunisch, Hermann. “Offenbarung und Gehorsam: Versuch uber Eckharts religiose Personlichkeit.” In Udo M. Nix and Raphael Ochslin, eds., Meister Eckhart der Prediger: Festschrift zum Eckhart-Gedenkjahr. Freiburg: Herder, 1960. McAuliffe, Jane. The Qur’an. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2017. McGinn, Bernard. “The God Beyond God: Theology and Mysticism in the Thought of Meister Eckhart.” The Journal of Religion 61, 1 (January 1981): 1–19. Al-Munsif bin al-Bashir, Muhammad. Falsafat Ibn ‘Arabi fi al-Ma‘rifa wa al-­ Wujud. N.c.: ‘Alam al-Kutub al-Hadith, 2016. Al-Nabulsi, ‘Abd al-Ghani. Idah al-Maqsud min ma‘na Wahdat al-Wujud, ‘Izza Hasriyya, ed. Damascus, Syria: Matba‘at al-‘Ilm, 1969. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Sufi Essays, 2nd ed. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1991. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Islamic Life and Thought. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1981. Al-Nimri, Mahmud ‘Abd al-Karim, ed. Rasa’il Ibn ‘Arabi. Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 2001. Omar, Irfan A. A Muslim View of Christianity: Essays on Dialogue by Muhammad Ayoub. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007. Pfeiffer, Franz. Meister Eckhart. London: John M. Watkins, 1956. Radler, Charlotte. “‘In love I am more God’: The Centrality of Love in Meister Eckhart’s Mysticism.” The Journal of Religion 90, 2 (April 2010): 171-198. Sacks, Jonathan. “The Dignity of Difference: Avoiding the Clash of Civilizations.” The Review of Faith & International Affairs (Summer 2009): 37–42. Saidi, M. “Ibn ‘Arabi’s Sufi and Poetic Experiences.” MA thesis, University of Western Cape, 2004. Saliba, Jamil. al-Mu‘jam al-Falsafi. Beirut, Lebanon: Dar al-Kitab al-­Lubnani, 1982.

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Schurmann, Reiner. Meister Eckhart: Mystic and Philosopher. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1978. Shah-Kazemi, Reza. The Other in the Light of the One: The Understanding of the Qur’an and Interfaith Dialogue. Cambridge, UK: Islamic Texts Society, 2006. Stace, Walter T. The Teachings of the Mystics. New  York: New American Library, 1960. Stoddart, William. Sufism: The Mystical Doctrines and Methods of Islam. New York: Paragon House, 1985.

PART III

Social and Ethical Implications

CHAPTER 13

Identity, Prejudice, and Mysticism: Exploring Sustainable Narratives of Peace Across Religious Borders Paul Hedges

I suspect that I am not alone in the feeling, but as an academic who works in the field of interreligious studies and works on dialogue, all too often one hears—at interreligious dialogue conferences, meetings, and events— the refrain that violence in the name of religion is an aberration, and that the true meaning of religion is peace. From a scholarly perspective, it is clear that Scott Appleby’s concept of the “ambivalence of the sacred”1 hits far closer to the bone. That is to say, as Perry Schmidt-Leukel has analogously put it, religious traditions can be like oil or water when applied to a fire, they can intensify the conflagration and hatred as much as putting it 1

 Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000).

P. Hedges (*) S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_13

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out.2 This double aspect is important to keep in mind, because it is clear— contra what may be termed New Atheist polemics—that religion is not the poison that is the root cause of all evil in our world.3 Indeed, to speak of religious violence is itself problematic, because not only is it not clear what the signifier “religion” may refer to, but even assuming we isolate a set of particular traditions commonly labeled this way, we still see very different narratives in each, with arguments for just wars, pacifism, self-defense, defense of the nation, terrorism, and more potentially being labeled as “religious violence.” This suggests that we are speaking about a widely diverse range of activities, motivations, and justifications.4 I hope there is no need to belabor this point, but those traditions we label religions justify, extol, and sometimes valorize violence in their mainstream manifestations, including in what may be termed scripturally authoritative texts and in the pronouncements of leading authority figures.5 In this, they represent human patterns of prejudice and identity formation, including the potential passage to violence,6 and I will posit that understanding how othering representations arise is far more pertinent than speaking of such malleable signifiers as “mysticism,” issues we will return to as we proceed. However, suppose we can readily accept the ambivalence of the sacred, we may still find advocates of religious irenicism asserting that while the traditions as a whole can go astray, this must be distanced from their true, inner core. A core that is often associated with what are termed mystical traditions. For the moment, I will not contest this characterization per se, a matter I will turn to below. Let us conduct the debate within the terms set by those who assert that mysticism represents a core of peace and a 2  Perry Schmidt-Leukel, “Interreligious Relations: From Conflict to Transformation,” in Interreligious Engagement and Theological Reflection: Ecumenical Explorations, ed. Douglas Pratt (Bern: Stämplfi AG, 2014): 6–19, 7. 3  I play here on the subtitle of Christopher Hitchens’ well-known book title, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (New York, NY: Hachette, 2007). For a discussion of some problems with such narratives, see Paul Hedges, Towards Better Disagreement: Religion and Atheism in Dialogue (London: Jessica Kingsley Publishing, 2017), 96–108. 4  See Paul Hedges, Understanding Religion: Theories and Methods for Studying Religiously Diverse Societies (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2021), 19–35 (on definitions of religion), 357 box 15.5, (on the problematic term “religious violence”). 5  See Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred; Hedges, Understanding Religion, 353, 357–58; Michael Jerryson, If You Meet the Buddha on the Road: Buddhism, Politics, and Violence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). 6  On this, see Paul Hedges, Religious Hatred: Anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and Prejudice in Global Perspective (London: Bloomsbury, 2021), Chaps. 1 and 2, respectively.

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spiritual meeting point. This is manifested in various ways. For instance, some suggest that Sufi traditions are the counterpoint needed against narratives of violence, even terrorism, within other Islamic traditions.7 Traditions of Indian origin, such as Buddhism, may be said to be best represented by certain mystical strands, often Zen,8 with the peacefulness of these asserted. Alongside this, Christianity may also be split into its mystical core and outward manifestations. I will, for the purposes of manageability, stick to only these three traditions, though this covers a lot of ground. Such a representation of certain religions having mystical elements and being contrasted with a mainstream tradition is not simply a facet of popular representations among, for instance, spiritual seekers and interfaith advocates, but has carried a strong academic stamp of imprimatur.9 Indeed, such an insistence on the priority of seeking peace through “mystical traditions” may suggest that it is at least implicit in the rationale behind the conference that birthed this volume.10 Against such representations of the irenic “essence” of mystical traditions, we find a solid array of evidence of which only a sample can be outlined here. Nevertheless, this set of examples by itself belies the myth that certain, supposedly “mystical,” traditions represent a peaceful, even pacifist, core of “true religion” which stands against the “false” representations that allow violence elsewhere within the traditions. These examples can be set out chronologically. Firstly, Christian mysticism is often associated with a range of teachers which vary from the Desert Fathers (and Mothers) to the Spanish mysticism of figures such as John of the Cross and Teresa of Ávila, and from the German school associated with Meister Eckhart to Hesychasm in the Orthodox Church. One particular strand, though, is sometimes termed “love mysticism,” and it extolled a spiritual 7  This is not normally an academic claim, but is made by Sufis, political analysts, and politicians; see, for instance, Narendra Modi (2016) on this, https://www.narendramodi.in/ pm-modi-at-the-world-islamic-sufi-conference-in-new-delhi-428276. 8  See, for instance, William Harmless, Mystics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 189–224. 9  This is associated with the foundational works of James (1902), Underhill (1915), and Otto (1917) onward. For a classic survey of studies, see Richard Woods, Understanding Mysticism (London: Athlone Press, 1980). For more recent studies, see Ann Taves, Religious Experience Reconsidered (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009); and Richard King, “Mysticism and Spirituality,” in The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion, 2nd ed., ed. John Hinnells (New York: Routledge, 2010): 323–38. 10   See the CFP, https://www2.naz.edu/interfaith/programs/academic-conferences/ sacred-texts-human-contexts/.

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relationship of the soul of the mystic as bride, with Jesus as the bridegroom, speaking often in ecstatic language of passion and relationship.11 Foundational for this love mysticism is Bernard of Clairvaux, given the exalted title of the Doctor of Love by the Catholic Church.12 By no means, though, was Bernard an advocate of pacifism, nor somebody who sought irenic coexistence between the religions. He was an avid advocate for those military incursions by European Christians, ostensibly to recapture Jerusalem and the Holy Lands, known as the Crusades. For Bernard, the killing of Muslims was a Christian duty,13 and so his title of the Doctor of Love may seem ironic.14 In a sermon from around 1145 in support of the Second Crusade (1147–1150), he stated: “The demon of heresy has taken possession of the chair of truth, and God has sent forth His malediction upon His sanctuary.”15 Bernard was quite explicit that Christians should not even try to convert Muslims, and certainly not seek peace; rather their death was for him the good that was sought. A mysticism of love toward one’s own deity is no hindrance to hating and despising those seen as beyond the pale, such that their slaughter can be deemed a just and good act. Turning to Sufism, which some have suggested may provide a bastion against militant neo-Islamic jihadism,16 its supposedly irenic and peaceable nature is undoubtedly overstated. While often framed as “Islamic mysticism,” Sufism names a significant trajectory in traditional Islamic practice, belonging, and thought with Sufi brotherhoods having been important  This is particularly associated with the Song of Songs, on which see Ann Astell, The Song of Songs in the Middle Ages (Ithaca, NJ: Cornel University Press, 1990). 12  See Harmless, Mystics, 41–58; and Mark Burrows, “Foundations of an Erotic Christology: Bernard of Clairvaux on Jesus as ‘Tender Love’,” Anglican Theological Review 80.4 (1998): 477–93. For a study of this in relation to comparative mysticism, see June McDaniel, “Blue Lotuses Everywhere: Divine Love in Gaudiya Vaisnava and Catholic Mysticism,” Journal of Vaishnava Studies 5.1 (1997). 13  See Tomaz Mastnak, Crusading Peace: Christendom, the Muslim World, and Western Political Order (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 154–68; and James Kroemer, “Vanquish the Haughty and Spare the Subjected: A Study of Bernard of Clairvaux’s Position on Muslims and Jews,” Medieval Encounters 18.1 (2012): 55–92. 14  See Hedges, Understanding Religion, 530n12. 15  Bernard of Clairvaux, ‘Why Another Crusade?’ (c. 1145), available at https://www. bartleby.com/268/7/4.html. 16  On the use of this term, see Paul Hedges, “Radicalisation: Examining a Concept, its Use, and Abuse,” Counter Terrorist Trends and Analysis 9.10 (2017): 12–18. 11

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collective societies in many places. In terms of it being seen as part of a mystical tradition, there is an association of figures within movements and traditions we can describe as Sufi with such things as an experience of unity with deity, asceticism, or seeing a common core across all religions.17 Indeed, some Sufi traditions will assert themselves to be pacifist.18 However, Sufi traditions have been far from irenic or pacifist and have often been at the forefront of warrior traditions in Islam. For our purposes, we can note their involvement in anti-colonial struggles during the nineteenth century when it was often Sufi preachers and their disciples who rose up to fight against European colonizing powers.19 Finally, turning to Zen, it has long been part of an Orientalist imagining of Buddhism.20 This relates to Zen particularly, presumably because it is understood as the meditation school (the literal meaning of the Sanskrit term dhyana transliterated into Chinese as chan and then in Japanese as Zen), and if meditation is seen as key in mystical practice then the assumption follows that it must exemplify peacefulness. That there is an association of Zen with martial arts is well known, due to the association of Bodhidharma with the Shaolin Monastery seen as being home to kung fu, but this has often been portrayed as a form of meditative practice (which is partly, but only partly, true), or the notion of the “peaceful warrior” may 17  On such a characterization of Sufism, see Harmless, Mystics, 159–88. It should also be noted that traditional Islamic understandings of what we would term “religious difference” rest upon modern, Western, Christian, and colonial representations of what “religion” is (see reference in note 4), and understanding a common origin or teaching across all traditions is part of the traditional notion of ahl al-kitab (People of the Book), which signifies a tradition with a prophet and text in the lineage of other prophets from Adam through to Muhammad (see Hedges, Understanding Religion, 304–05, 306 box 13.2). 18  From a Sufi and policy angle, see for instance, Said Temsamani, “Sufism: The Spiritual Path to Preach Love, Coexistence and Peace,” Eurasia Review (31 December 2012), available at: https://www.eurasiareview.com/31122012-sufism-the-spritual-path-to-preachlove-coexistence-and-peace%E2%80%8F-oped/. 19  See Fait Muedini, “Sufism and Anti-Colonial Violent Resistance Movements: The Qadiriyya and Sanussi Orders in Algeria and Libya,” Open Theology 1 (2015): 134–45. 20  It should be noted here, though it does not only apply to Zen, that the imaginary of what fits within the category of “mysticism” varies from context to context and writer to writer, while Orientalist tropes can either valorize something in flattering terms (though typically positioning it within a certain Western-centric discourse to serve a purpose), as well as disparaging it. For an overview of this, see J. J. Clarke, Oriental Enlightenment: The Encounter Between Asian and Western Thought (London: Routledge, 1997).

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be invoked.21 I do not intend to get involved in debates concerning this, though Zen’s association with martial arts training and monks acting as soldiers in defense of the empire certainly undercuts any claims to pacifism. Recent scholarship has shown Zen’s complicit role in helping to support and endorse Japan’s wartime efforts, including atrocities, during the Second World War, with particular attention given to the role of Zen monks as chaplains in the armed forces.22 One argument that those asserting the essential irenic nature of such traditions may make is that traditions such as Zen do not endorse killing and warfare per se. Rather, its teachings of no-self (anatman) form a pragmatic skillful means whereby soldiers can be trained to overcome anger and killing and to purify their minds despite their occupation.23 However, this goes against what is known about the role of Zen in promoting arguments for Japanese exceptionalism and portraying those killed as demons who it is right to slay, not primarily as enemies of Buddhism but also as enemies of the nation.24 As noted, I have made no attempt to comprehensively survey the variety of traditions that may, by one definition or another, be parsed as “mysticism” or “mystical.” My argument has been that such examples demonstrate that, in at least some traditions so identified, there is certainly not an unqualified acceptance of peace as a virtue, and certainly no inherent pacifism. This, if mysticism is taken to be a generic category across religions, it should be enough to problematize the conception of the irenic nature of the 21  The definitive study of the Shaolin Monastery is Meir Shahar, The Shaolin Monastery: History, Religion, and the Chinese Martial Arts (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2008). On representations of Zen as peaceful, see, for example, Howard Reid and Michael Croucher, The Way of the Warrior: The Paradox of the Martial Arts (London: Century Publishing, 1983). 22  See, in particular, Brian Victoria, Zen At War (London: Rowman and Littlefield, 2006). 23  Such an argument, it may be noted, is not specifically Buddhist per se and can be traced back at least as far as the Bhagavad-Gita, in which part of the argument that Krishna makes to Arjuna is that one can fulfill one’s dharma as a warrior without passion or hatred. 24  In other contexts, Buddhist arguments for violence have extolled the need to protect the sasana (Buddhist tradition), though this is tied into narratives of prejudice and hatred for others. On Buddhist arguments for killing and a just war in general, see Jerryson, If You Meet the Buddha; Jude Lal Fernando, “Buddhism, Nationalism, and Violence in Asia,” in Controversies in Contemporary Religion, vol. 3, ed. Paul Hedges, (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2014): 61–90; and, in brief, Hedges, Understanding Religion, 367–70. For the Buddhist notion of violence in relation to theories of prejudice and Islamophobia more widely, see Hedges, Religious Hatred, 165–80.

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mystic and mystical. As I have noted, routes into violence, and peace, are embedded within the facets of human social identification. However, first, we should problematize the category of “mysticism” itself.

Problematizing Mysticism The study of “mysticism” has roots in the early twentieth century, with William James, Evelyn Underhill, and Rudolf Otto being foundational figures. The late twentieth century saw a significant turn in this study with what we may term universalist scholars arguing for the priority of mystical experience as the grounding locus for the religious traditions, largely following the lineage of James, Underhill, and Otto, on the one hand, against a constructivist school, perhaps exemplified by Steven Katz, on the other hand, who argued that human social and linguistic traditions birthed distinct experiences within the traditions and people who manifested them.25 Within theology, at least, George Lindbeck became the figure who most exemplified the notion that the experiences, understanding, and worldviews of every religion are different with his socio-linguistic paradigm.26 Recently, critical studies in religion have problematized the very concept of “religion” itself; hence the idea that we can locate a set of similar traditions as “religions,” each with its own “mystical” strand, is beset by problems of Orientalist imposition and a recognition that our categories will distort the data.27 Certainly, earlier scholarship had not presumed that everything we may term “mysticism” was of one single type,28 but a more critical lens alerts us to the angles of feminist scholarship, decolonial scholarship, and other perspectives. Indeed, appeal to a single “mystical” core across all religions no longer seems possible, though I would not endorse 25  For some major works see, on the constructivist side, Steven Katz (ed.), Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1978), against this, Robert Forman, ed., The problem of Pure Consciousness: Mysticism and Philosophy (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1990). A classic survey is Richard Woods, Understanding Mysticism (London: Athlone Press, 1980). 26  George A. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984). 27  On religion, see note 4, and on wider Orientalist questions, see Richard King, Orientalism and Religion: Post-Colonial Theory, India and “The Mystic East” (London and New  York: Routledge, 1999). 28  A classic work outlining three distinct types (theistic, monistic, nature) is R. C. Zaehner, Mysticism, Sacred and Profane: An Inquiry into Some Varieties of Praeternatural Experience (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957)

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the untenable extremes of some fashionable scholarship which denies any experiential aspect in religion, or that suggests absolute alterity marks all those traditions we label as religion.29 Space does not permit me to rehearse these debates in detail, and readers are directed to the foregoing references in this section. Here, I will explore a rather different critique of the category of “mysticism” raised, in particular, in relation to the medieval Christian tradition, by the feminist philosopher of religion Grace Jantzen in Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism.30 I will not explicate the whole of Jantzen’s complex and detailed argument here; rather I will outline some key features pertinent to this chapter. Jantzen’s argument has two prongs, firstly that the category “mysticism” is created and helps legitimate who is in control, or who has authority. She argued that it has been used to suppress women’s experiences; however, here I will focus more on the creation of the term,31 but this aspect of structural violence inherent in how “mysticism” has been deployed and understood has pertinence to our argument—it does not obviously denote something “positive.” Deriving from Greek, early usage signified the secrets of initiatory cultic rites in the ancient mystery religions. As such, “mysticism” denoted practice rather than experience—it is debatable whether these rites were seen as key to certain experiences, as it was the initiation itself that was “mystical.” In the Patristic period, it referred to the interpretation of scripture, and so has links with Origen’s fourfold schemata for reading texts, and so was a hermeneutical rather than an experiential term. In the medieval period, it started to be used more about experience, but primarily denoting a love of God, and for Augustine and Aquinas it signified demonstrating Christian love; hence an 29  For my own assessment on some of these debates, along with the relevant scholarship, see, most particularly, Paul Hedges, “Encounters with Ultimacy? Autobiographical and Critical Perspectives in the Academic Study of Religion,” Open Theology 4 (2018): 355–72, Hedges, Understanding Religion, primarily 197–99; and Paul Hedges, Controversies in Interreligious Dialogue and the Theology of Religions (London: SCM, 2010), 177–82. It is worth noting also perhaps the most trenchant critic of the notion of experience, Robert Sharf, “Experience,” in Critical Terms for Religious Studies, ed. Mark C. Taylor (Chicago, MI: University of Chicago Press, 1998): 94–116. 30  Grace Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 31  Beyond Jantzen’s study, see also Michel de Certeau, “Mysticism,” Diacritics 22.2 (1992): 11–25; King, Orientalism and Religion, 14–20; and Leigh Eric Schmidt, “The Making of Modern ‘Mysticism’,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 71.2 (2003): 273–302.

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outward expression rather than any internal quality. It was only in seventeenth-­century France that we first see mysticism becoming a noun and from here we come to the contemporary Anglo-American usage, even creation, of “mysticism” as a generic category. It is important to be aware of the usage and lineage of this term, rather than assuming it is a natural part of the world or specific traditions. Secondly, Jantzen argues that our contemporary usage of the term sidelines the political and ethical aspects, foregrounding an internal and private arena of pure experience related to some posited “spiritual” realm. In this, the gender politics in the generation of the term is also neglected. Richard King has dwelt upon this in as far as “experience” or “mysticism” became a category with which to place various Indian, or more widely Asian, traditions, with the trope of the “Mystic East” doing a lot of work in terms of categorizing and limiting the way various Asian religions have been understood and interpreted.32 Jantzen demonstrates that during the medieval period, especially from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, there was a change in perception of certain forms of experiences, particularly visions. Denied access to the priesthood, and also to theology as a discipline, women were more typically visionaries than men as it was a way to claim and create a status within the religious world; while it is not Jantzen’s claim, and would need more study, visions also seem to have been more typical of males who were outsiders to the system—that is, those lacking education, wealth, or power— so it was, likewise, also a way for the working-class male to stake their authority within the religious realm. In the twelfth century, Hildegard of Bingen was a notable example of a visionary who carved out a place of respect and authority through her visions.33 Nevertheless, in her day, the misogynistic Bernard of Clairvaux, while recognizing visions as valid, did not regard them as a source of authority. By the fourteenth century, Jantzen argues that most male mystics rejected visions, and in the previous few centuries they moved from being tolerated to being mistrusted to being condemned. She notes as examples two well-known and respected “mystic” authorities: the anonymous Cloud of Unknowing linked visions and heretics; while Jan Ruysbroec saw them as representing a false 32  See King, Religion and Orientalism. More widely on decolonial studies and religion, see Hedges, Understanding Religion, 163–79. 33  See Fiona Bowie and Oliver Davies, Hildegard of Bingen: An Anthology (London: SPCK, 1995).

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sweetness. While not condemning visions outright, Eckhart also seemed to consider inner experiences better than visions.34 Certainly, within the modern valorization of mysticism as a category of study, visions have tended to be accorded a lower place, with the (more typically masculine) unitive experience with deity or ultimate reality being accorded the highest place of honor. Therefore, in the modern period, Jantzen’s argument is that “mysticism” as a category has typically prioritized men’s experiences, with women’s experience being seen as less significant. Beyond this, she also asks us to consider what we mean by the term “mystic” and who is “a mystic.” For many, the highpoint of Christian mysticism is Eckhart, whose experiences have often been used comparatively as analogous to those of some Hindu and Buddhist traditions, exemplified in associating him with a unitive oneness with Godhead (to use Eckhart’s term).35 However, Jantzen notes that, for Eckhart, and this includes other figures often seen as mystics such as Gertrude of Helfta, it was not visions or the unitive experience that was most highly regarded, but service in the world; for Eckhart, the greatest Christian was not the one lost in rapture, but the one who went out and gave a bowl of soup to the hungry, something which could be said to represent a wider trend in Christian thought.36 Richard King has aptly summed this up: The privatization of mysticism—that is, the increasing tendency to locate the mystical in the psychological realm of personal experiences—serves to exclude it from political issues such as social justice. Mysticism thus becomes 34  Just to note, Jantzen’s critique of Eckhart here may concern a rejection of worldly desire rather than a rejection of visions, so I might contest her reading in this case, but it is marginal to the argument overall, see Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 188–89. 35  A key study remains Oliver Davies, Meister Eckhart: Mystical Theologian (London: SPCK, 1991). On comparative studies, see, for a recent study, Saeed Zarrabi-Zadeh, Practical Mysticism in Islam and Christianity: A Comparative Study of Jalal al-Din Rumi and Meister Eckhart (New York, NY: Routledge, 2016); and two classic studies are Rudolf Otto, Mysticism East and West: A Comparative Analysis of the Nature of Mysticism (London: Macmillan and Co., 1932) and Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki, Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd, 1957). 36  In this regard, an oft-cited New Testament text would be Matt 25: 35–45. For Eckhart, this quote is significant: “[I]f a man were in an ecstasy as St. Paul was, and if he knew of a sick person who needed a bowl of soup from him, I would consider it far better if you were to leave that rapture out of love and help the needy person out of greater love” (M.  O’C.  Walshe, trans., Meister Eckhart: Sermons and Treatises, vol. 3 (Dorset: Element Books, 1987, 24–25)).

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seen as a personal matter of cultivating inner states of tranquility and equanimity, which, rather than seeking to transform the world, serve to accommodate the individual to the status quo through the alleviation of anxiety and stress. In this way, mysticism becomes thoroughly domesticated.37

When we go beyond Christianity, a figure such as Vivekananda, often glossed as part of the Hindu mystical tradition and key in the way that Advaita Vedanta came to be seen as normative in Western narratives,38 was as much, or more, concerned with social reform and welfare as he was with certain forms of experience.39 The Israelite prophetic tradition also spoke strongly of social justice, and in many ways Isaiah’s visions are less important than what liberation theologians have seen as God’s “preferential option for the poor.”40 This is not to deny that particular special experiences have proven foundational or inspirational for individuals, and thus also in the formation and maintenance of traditions (much history of religion makes little sense without taking certain claims seriously, at least in terms of the legitimating discourses—people believed that certain people had visions, were touched by the divine, etc.).41 This is not to validate the ontological or metaphysical claims of such experiences, nor to suggest they arise solely through discourse; both options, I would argue, are viable within the context of our humanly lived experience and range of potential knowledge. However, with Jantzen, it is to open up the question of who we think a mystic is, what mysticism is, and thereby to engage within the creation of discourse around what we validate as significant by granting or denying this term to people, experiences, practices, traditions, and/or actions. I am not going to try and give a new definition of “mysticism,” but it is important that we recognize that in employing this term we remain alert to the power dynamics behind the creation of the category and what it signifies.  King, Orientalism and Religion, 21.  For a summary of Vivekananda’s significance here, see Hedges, Understanding Religion, 328 box 14.2; see also King, Orientalism and Religion, 135–42. 39  See Gwilym Beckerlegge, “Swami Vivekananda and Seva: Taking ‘Social Service’ Seriously,” in Vivekananda and the Modernization of Hinduism, ed. William Radice (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997) 158–193. 40  Gustavo Gutiérrez, “The Option for the Poor Arises from Faith in Christ,” Theological Studies 70.2 (2009): 317–326. 41  On the usage of transcendent/transcendence as a category in the study of religion, see Hedges, Understanding Religion, 35 box 1.10. 37 38

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Identity, Narratives, and Violence in Mysticism As a concept bound up with human identity creation and discourse, mysticism as much as religion, secularism, politics, philosophy, humanism, or any other category needs to be understood within the wider dynamics of human meaning making. We cannot simply create the category of the mystic, or the experience of the mystical, as something which floats free and beyond any religious tradition or human society more widely. Now, before I proceed, it may be useful to address what may be issues in the reader’s mind: my argument, it may be said, takes place within a particular social scientific, secularized, and critical discourse that is not open (maybe even antagonistic) to theological, spiritual, or mystical apprehensions missed by such workaday proclivities. Mystics, we may be told, recognize each other across traditions, and common understandings are reached at a deeper level than the purely cognitive. Absolutely! I will not necessarily disagree. We may see resonances between those who hold differing identities by tradition-based belonging. My own doktorvater, Paul Badham, made the argument that two Christians sitting side-by-side in the same pew may hold such utterly diverse images of the deity they both putatively worshiped—one seeing a God of Love who longed to and would save all, the other a vengeful and wrathful God who was all too willing to send anybody who did not sign up to the exact creedal expression to hell for all eternity with no second chance—that they could be said to have more in common with people from other religions than with each other. Interreligious agreement, and the syncretic crossing of religious borders, is the norm rather than the exception through human history, and in terms of forms of spirituality, ethical norms, doctrinal beliefs we can often see more commonalities across what we envisage as religious borders than we do within them.42 However, this does not allow us to give preference to the “mystical” realm as it is only one of many areas where we may see 42  On a way to understand the study of religion that understands this, see Hedges, Understanding Religion, especially 19–35, 60–4, 68–9, 72–9, 84–8, 303–16, 342–45. Also, on how religion would be understood very differently in non-Western contexts, see Paul Hedges, “Multiple Religious Belonging after Religion: Theorising Strategic Religious Participation in a Shared Religious Landscape as a Chinese Model,” Open Theology 3.1 (2017): 48–72. I would also be very sympathetic to the kind of argument made in such recent books as John Thatamanil, Circling the Elephant (New York, NY: Fordham University Press, 2020). For my own personal journey from “recognizing” “mystical similarity” to my current stance, see Hedges, “Encounters with Ultimacy?”

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overlap. Further, as noted, “mystics” may be supporters of violence and misogyny, and deny any meaningful overlap with those of differing religions. Moreover, to use a term I have employed elsewhere, untheorizing, we can apply this to “mysticism.”43 Because it has relevance here, I will unpack some of my previous work. In exploring “religious hatred,” prejudice, and the processes of human violence, I argued that arguments that such categories as antisemitism or genocide were essentially unfathomable were deeply unhelpful, for instance, with the former being seen as an almost metaphysical hatred, and the latter as a category of human violence so beyond anything imaginable as to be located only in a certain deranged ideological formation. Rather, my argument was that to overcome antisemitism, Islamophobia, racism, or other forms of prejudice, and to understand what leads humans not simply to kill other humans, but also to seek the destruction of entire groups, it was essential that we analyzed the dynamics at play. Antisemitism is not a unique and ahistorical form of hatred, but a manifestation of human prejudice that can be fully explained within the remit of prejudice studies. Likewise, with genocide, it fits within patterns of human meaning making and narrative that allow killing to be justified in certain contexts. Likewise, I argue, if we want to understand how traditions we may identify as mystical may be utilized in narratives of peace and coexistence or violence and intolerance, then we need to untheorize “mysticism.” Taking it as a sui generis category floating free from history, traditions, identities, and human meaning making narratives will lead at best to platitudes and sloppy thinking, at worst to unhelpful and distorted attempts at forging peace and understanding. A Sufi may hate a Christian mystic, as much as a Zen Buddhist may hate a Daoist, or an Advaita Vedantin Hindu may hate a Sikh contemplative, and each may, in particular social contexts, kill the other as a good validated by their “mystical” pathway—Bernard’s demonstration of the Christian love of God (pace44 Augustine and Aquinas) was exemplified in killing Muslims without mercy. Within the space of this chapter, I cannot outline all the necessary theory that may help us understand how notions of religious differnce are created, including such theories and concepts as social identity theory, prejudice theory, notions of narrative identity, and social constructivist  Hedges, Religious Hatred, 4–5.  Used with all due irony—the Latin pace, of course, literally means “peace,” but I use the term here with its employment of “with reference to.” 43 44

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approaches.45 But as noted above, identity and prejudice as human constructs lurk in the way we give meaning to our world. Our notion of what it is to be a “mystic” and hence how we exemplify and fill in concepts of such things as “love,” “spirituality,” “experience,” “ecstasy,” “union,” and so on are only ever placed within a pattern of human meaning making within social contexts: whether “mysticism” denotes a place of meeting across perceived borders of difference does not arise with the inner experience of the mystic themselves.

Toward Narratives of Religious Coexistence: Concluding Beyond Mysticism Within the study of interreligious dialogue, two particular Jewish philosophers are significant for thinking the ethical position of the Other. The first is Martin Buber, who became famous at first as a spiritual guide, a mystic, if you like, steeped in the techniques of his tradition, but he tells of how, one day, a young man came to him in distress but wishing to immerse himself in his piety and union with God. Buber, after a brief conversation, sent him on his way. Later that same day, the young man committed suicide. For Buber, this marked a turning point in his understanding of religion, which we may call the move from mysticism to ethics. Religion, for him, became relational, built in the direct person-to-person contact where we genuinely see the Other on their own terms, seen in his notion of the Thou as opposed to an It.46 The second figure is Emmanuel Levinas, who gives us the term “Other.” After the Holocaust, Levinas believed that the utmost ethico-religious imperative is to be before the Face of the Other, to see their call “do not kill me.”47 It is, again, this face-to-face relationality which for Levinas, like Buber,48 takes priority. This leads us to ask what we mean to be attuned to God or ultimate reality, or to be “a mystic.” 45  For an account of these issues, often in conversation with one another, see Hedges, Understanding Religion, Chapters 5, 6, 13, and Hedges, Religious Hatred, Chapter 1. 46  See Martin Buber, I and Thou (New York, NY: Simon and Schuster, 1971 [1923]). 47  For an overview of Levinas, in relation to dialogue and ethics, see Andrew Wilshere, “Emmanuel Levinas,” in Dialogue Theories II, eds, Omer Sener, Frances Sleap, and Paul Weller (London: Dialogue Society, 2016): 189–203. 48  This is not to assert a commonality between them, for while each can usefully be seen in relation to the other, there are differences and hence learning points from each, see on this Oddbjørn Leirvik, Interreligious Studies: A Relational approach to Religious Activism and the Study of Religion (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 18–27.

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Leaning on arguments made elsewhere, the Christian theological notion of godding, expounded by Mary Daly and Carter Heyward, sees the relational, horizontal, human space to be where we see the face of God, rather than in the vertical, divine realm.49 With Buber, attention to the latter may be the height of irreligion when it leads us to abandon the Thou-Other (to combine the Buberian-Levinasian terminology), to be in ecstasy rather than giving the bowl of soup, visiting the prisoner, or clothing the needy. Likewise, narratives of mysticism may be divisive as much as bridge difference depending upon how the identity and perception of the Thou-Other is framed. We need to build better narratives of religious coexistence in the human world, not seek mystical validation to love another, for we have seen what such “divine love” may entail all too often in human history.

Bibliography Appleby, Scott. The Ambivalence of the Sacred. New  York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000. Astell, Ann. The Song of Songs in the Middle Ages. Ithaca, NJ: Cornel University Press, 1990. Beckerlegge, Gwilym. “Swami Vivekananda and Seva: Taking ‘Social Service’ Seriously.” In Vivekananda and the Modernization of Hinduism, edited by William Radice, 158-193. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997. Bowie, Fiona and Oliver Davies, Hildegard of Bingen: An Anthology. London: SPCK, 1995. Buber, Martin. I and Thou. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster, 1971 [1923]. Burrows, Mark. “Foundations of an Erotic Christology: Bernard of Clairvaux on Jesus as ‘Tender Love’.” Anglican Theological Review 80.4 (1998): 477-93. Clarke, J.J. Oriental Enlightenment: The Encounter Between Asian and Western Thought. London: Routledge, 1997. Davies, Oliver. Meister Eckhart: Mystical Theologian. London: SPCK, 1991. de Certeau, Michel. “Mysticism,” Diacritics 22.2 (1992): 11-25a. Fernando, Jude Lal. “Buddhism, Nationalism, and Violence in Asia,” in Controversies in Contemporary Religion, vol. 3, edited by Paul Hedges, 61-90. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2014. Forman, Robert, ed., The Problem of Pure Consciousness: Mysticism and Philosophy. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1990.

49  For a discussion around this in relation to Levinas, see Paul Hedges, “White Jesus and Antisemitism: Toward an Antiracist and Decolonial Christology,” Current Dialogue 72.5 (2020): 777–96.

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Gutiérrez, Gustavo. “The Option for the Poor Arises from Faith in Christ.” Theological Studies 70.2 (2009): 317-326. Harmless, William. Mystics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Hedges, Paul. Controversies in Interreligious Dialogue and the Theology of Religions. London: SCM, 2010. Hedges, Paul. “Multiple Religious Belonging after Religion: Theorising Strategic Religious Participation in a Shared Religious Landscape as a Chinese Model.” Open Theology 3.1 (2017a): 48–72. Hedges, Paul. “Radicalisation: Examining a Concept, its Use, and Abuse.” Counter Terrorist Trends and Analysis 9.10 (2017b): 12-18. Hedges, Paul. Towards Better Disagreement: Religion and Atheism in Dialogue. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishing, 2017c. Hedges, Paul. “Encounters with Ultimacy? Autobiographical and Critical Perspectives in the Academic Study of Religion.” Open Theology 4 (2018): 355-72. Hedges, Paul. “White Jesus and Antisemitism: Toward an Antiracist and Decolonial Christology.” Current Dialogue 72.5 (2020): 777-96. Hedges, Paul. Religious Hatred: Prejudice, Islamophobia and Antisemitism in Global Perspective. London: Bloomsbury, 2021a. Hedges, Paul. Understanding Religion: Theories and Methods for Studying Religiously Diverse Societies. Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2021b. Hitchens, Christopher. God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. New York, NY: Hachette, 2007. Jantzen, Grace. Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Jerryson, Michael. If You Meet the Buddha on the Road: Buddhism, Politics, and Violence. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Katz, Steven, ed., Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis. New  York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1978. King, Richard. Orientalism and Religion: Post-Colonial Theory, India and “The Mystic East.” London and New York, NY: Routledge, 1999. King, Richard. “Mysticism and Spirituality.” In The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion, 2nd ed., edited by John Hinnells, 323-38. New  York: Routledge, 2010. Kroemer, James. “Vanquish the Haughty and Spare the Subjected: A Study of Bernard of Clairvaux’s Position on Muslims and Jews.” Medieval Encounters 18.1 (2012): 55–92. Leirvik, Oddbjørn. Interreligious Studies: A Relational approach to Religious Activism and the Study of Religion. London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Lindbeck, George A. The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984.

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Mastnak, Tomaz. Crusading Peace: Christendom, the Muslim World, and Western Political Order. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000. McDaniel, June. “Blue Lotuses Everywhere: Divine Love in Gaudiya Vaisnava and Catholic Mysticism.” Journal of Vaishnava Studies 5.1 (1997). Muedini, Fait. “Sufism and Anti-Colonial Violent Resistance Movements: The Qadiriyya and Sanussi Orders in Algeria and Libya.” Open Theology 1 (2015): 134-45. Otto, Rudolf. Mysticism East and West: A Comparative Analysis of the Nature of Mysticism. London: Macmillan and Co., 1932. Reid, Howard and Michael Croucher. The Way of the Warrior: The Paradox of the Martial Arts. London: Century Publishing, 1983. Schmidt, Leigh Eric. “The Making of Modern ‘Mysticism’.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 71.2 (2003): 273-302. Shahar, Meir. The Shaolin Monastery: History, Religion, and the Chinese Martial Arts. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2008. Sharf, Robert. “Experience.” In Critical Terms for Religious Studies, edited by Mark C. Taylor, 94-116. Chicago, MI: University of Chicago Press, 1998). Suzuki, Daisetz Teitaro. Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist. London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd, 1957. Taves, Ann. Religious Experience Reconsidered. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009. Thatlamanil, John. Circling the Elephant. New  York, NY: Fordham University Press, 2020. Victoria, Brian. Zen At War. London: Rowman and Littlefield, 2006. Walshe, M.  O’C. trans. Meister Eckhart: Sermons and Treatises, vol. 3. Dorset: Element Books, 1987. Wilshere, Andrew. “Emmanuel Levinas.” In Dialogue Theories II, edited by Omer Sener, Frances Sleap, and Paul Weller, 189-203. London: Dialogue Society, 2016. Woods, Richard. Understanding Mysticism. London: Athlone Press, 1980. Zaehner, R. C. Mysticism, Sacred and Profane: An Inquiry into Some Varieties of Praeternatural Experience. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957. Zarrabi-Zadeh, Saeed. Practical Mysticism in Islam and Christianity: A Comparative Study of Jalal al-Din Rumi and Meister Eckhart. New York, NY: Routledge, 2016.

CHAPTER 14

Migration and the Mystical-Theological Tradition: Migration Experiences and the Experience of a Dark Night Dorris van Gaal

Migration and Mystical Theology: An Encounter All around the world people are on the move. Hunger, violence, war, poverty, and economic injustice are the main reasons why people leave their homelands to find a safe and dignified life elsewhere. The phenomenon of migration has become truly global and has become a subject in the studies of many disciplines. Recognizing migration as a “sign of the times”1 has supported the fast development of the field of migration theology. To 1  Paul VI, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World–Gaudium et Spes (Vatican: Holy See, 7 Dec. 1965), § 11.

D. van Gaal (*) Calvert Hall, Baltimore, MD, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_14

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address the many different circumstances of migrants and the geographical and cultural contexts from both the sending and the receiving countries, theological reflections on migration are interdisciplinary undertakings and have arisen from different theological fields, such as biblical studies, Christology, ecclesiology, ethics, and spirituality. Here, I offer a contribution to the discourse on migration and spirituality in the field of migration theology. To do so, I will enter in discussion with Gemma T. Cruz. Cruz, in her reflections on migrant spirituality, dismisses “spiritualities of ascent” as an affective framework for gaining understanding of migrant spirituality.2 I will, however, argue that the correlation between the narrative of The Dark Night and the narratives of African migrants to the U.S. does provide insight in the process of spiritual transformation and therefore does contribute to understanding migrant spirituality.3 Before engaging this discussion I will first present the result of the correlation between narratives of African migrants to the U.S.4 and the narrative of the dark night in the spirituality of John of the Cross.5 Constance FitzGerald, O.C.D., claims that John’s writings continue to speak to contemporary experiences of impasse and liminality.6 I consider the experiences of African migrants to the U.S. as contemporary experiences of

2  Gemma Tulud Cruz, Toward a Theology of Migration: Social Justice and Religious Experience (New York: Palgrave/MacMillan, 2014), 1127–160. 3  I consider both sources as narratives conform Ricoeur’s theory of interpretation and concept of emplotment. See: Paul Ricoeur, Soi-même comme un autre (Paris: Édition du Seuil, 1990), 167–168; and Mark I. Wallace, “Introduction,” in Paul Ricoeur, Figuring the Sacred: Religion, Narrative, and Imagination, ed. Mark I.  Wallace (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1995), 10–15. Wallace explains that La mise en intrigue is best translated with the word “emplotment” (11). 4  These narratives were gathered in 16 first-hand interviews, transcribed and analyzed by the author between February 2015 and January 2018. “African migrants” therefore refers to this group of participants. When quoted the participants will be referred to with their pseudonym to preserve anonymity. 5  John of the Cross, The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, Trans. Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. (Washington D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991). 6  Constance FitzGerald, “From Impasse to Prophetic Hope: Crisis of Memory,” in The Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America, 64, ed. Jonathan Y. Tan (Cincinnati, OH: Xavier University, 2009), 21–42; and “Impasse and Dark Night,” Living with Apocalypse: Spiritual Resources for Social Compassion, ed. Tilden H. Edwards (San Francisco, CA: Harper & Row, 1984), 92–116.

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liminality.7 In both narratives liminality is experienced in the context of three transitional phases: departure, arrival, and negotiation of the ­journey.8 The correlation between these two narratives provides insight into how these experiences of liminality affect a process of spiritual transformation. The insights gained will be used in the discussion with Cruz.

The Process of Correlation: On Resonances and Dissonances This research brings together two very different narratives: One narrating the experience of migration as shared by twentieth and twenty-first-­ century migrants from Africa to the U.S. and the other a sixteenth-century mystical text narrating the experience of the dark night in the spirituality of John of the Cross. Nevertheless, I posit that these two narratives have something in common and something to learn from each other as they both speak about experiences of liminality and experiences of transformation.9 In order to gain comprehension of how the African migrants’ narratives and John’s narrative of the dark night, with their different horizons, speak to each other and explain one another, it is important to pay attention to the full spectrum of possibilities in the encounter between the two narratives. Therefore, I not only explore the instances where the narratives 7  Robert Schreiter, “Partizipation und Liminalität. Liturgie mit Migranten,” in: Theologie der Gegenwart, Volume 57, 2 (2014), 82–94; Kees Waaijman, Spirituality: Forms, Foundations, Methods, (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 34, 213–214, 261–275, and 423–426. Waaijman builds his reflections on the function of liminality in the process of spiritual development on the theories of Arnold van Gennep and Victor Turner: Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, transl. by Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee and introduction by Solon T. Kimball (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1960); Victor W. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Chicago IL: Aldine Publishing Company). 8  For background on these transitional phases in migration see: Jorge E. Castillo Guerra, “From the Faith and Life of a Migrant to a Theology of Migration and Intercultural Convivencia,” in Migration as a Sign of the Times: Towards a Theology of Migration, Judith Gruber and Sigrid Rettenbacher, eds. (Leiden/Boston: Brill/Rodopi, 2015) 107–129; Jorge E.  Castillo Guerra, “Coexistence of Pluralities through Practices of Intercultural Relationships,” in Interreligious Studies and Intercultural Theology 2.2 (2018), 155–176. For John’s remarks on the transitional phases of the dark night, see: A. 1. 2. 1–4 and N. 1. 8. 1. I follow the abbreviated references as used by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. in The Collected works of St. John of the Cross. 9  For a more detailed account on the analysis of each of the narratives, see: Dorris van Gaal, Migrant Spirituality: Correlating the Narratives of African migrants, the USA and the Dark Night of John of the Cross (Vienna, Switzerland: LIT-Verlag, 2021).

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of the African migrants and John’s narrative of the dark night resonate and affirm each other, but also the instances where they are dissonant when they differ and question each other.10 Instances of Difference and Dissonance In the several instances where the two narratives are different and question each other I distinguished two themes that seem to connect and explain these differences, namely: the place and function of the transitional phase of arrival and the relationship between the human and the divine. Below I will discuss how in these two dissonances the two narratives question and enlighten each other.  n the Place and Function of Arrival O Regarding the transitional phases of departure, arrival, and negotiation and settlement, both narratives employ a different sequence of these transitional phases. In the context of migration, the sequence of these phases typically follows the geographical and chronological order of the journey. In the context of the dark night, however, arrival is the end point of the journey, and negotiating the darkness of the night follows departure. John symbolizes the journey through the dark night by the three phases of the natural night: twilight or dusk, “when things begin to fade from sight” (which constitutes departure); midnight, when the night, just like faith, is completely dark (which constitutes negotiating liminality); and third part of the night, “representing God, is like the very early dawn, just before the break of day” (which constitutes arrival).11 Furthermore, the African migrants in their narratives define arrival by the obstacles and disappointments they encounter, as they discover that their expectations do not match the reality of life in the U.S. John, however, defines arrival by the perfect union of love in God through participation. This experience is not of this life, but as the soul journeys through the night, it experiences

10  In my research strategy, I follow Edward Schillebeeckx, O.P. and David Tracy in their reflections on “mutually critical correlation.” See: Edward Schillebeeckx, O.P., Geloofsverstaan: Interpretatie en Kritiek. Theologische Peilingen Deel V, (Bloemendaal: Uitgeverij H. Nelissen, 1972). and Theologisch Geloofsverstaan Anno 1983 (Bloemendaal: Uitgeverij H.  Nelissen, 1983); David Tracy, The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture of Pluralism (London: SCM Press, LTD, 1981). 11  A. 1. 2. 5.

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touches of God. These are precursors of this ultimate or eschatological arrival in God.12 In the correlation of the dissonances regarding the experience of arrival both narratives question and enlighten each other. First, the connection of arrival with obstacles and challenges in the African migrants’ narratives raises the question if a similar connection exists in the narrative of the dark night. Taking a closer look at the place and function of arrival in the dark night leads to the following observation. Just as in the African migrants’ narratives obstacles arise because of the contraries in the encounter between expectations and reality, so too in the dark night. In the dark night obstacles arise because of the contrary between the human and the divine. Overcoming this contrary in the union of love with God is the goal and eschatological point of arrival of the journey through the dark night.13 Second, the eschatological dimension of arrival in the narrative of the dark night raises the question if such an eschatological dimension can be observed in the African migrants’ narratives as well. Exploring the connection between moments of arrival and the benefits experienced through illumination in the narrative of the dark night, there was uncovered a similar function for the experiences of achieving goals and moments of settlement in the African migrants’ narratives. They both are precursors of a hoped-for future in the ultimate experience of arrival. The eschatological dimension of arrival in the narrative of the dark night, then, expands the perspective on arrival in the experience of migration beyond the geographical and temporal point of arrival. Experiences of success and settlement become precursors of such a moment of ultimate arrival. In the migration experience this is defined by finding a healthy integration between the emigrant and immigrant identities, and by the ability to fully participate in the destination country. These precursors of arrival are in both narratives a source of hope and strength.  n the Relationship Between the Human and the Divine O Apart from the dissonances regarding the point of arrival, I observed several dissonances that are connected to the way the African migrants in their narratives and John in the narrative of the dark night perceive the relationship between the human and the divine.

 See for instance: N. 2. 20. 5–6.  See for instance: N. 2. 6. 4, N. 2. 7. 5, and N. 2. 18. 2–4.

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According to John the human and divine are so contrary to one another that they cannot co-exist.14 In his theology John emphasizes God’s radical transcendence (and consequently creation’s utter dependence on God) and pairs this with the ineffability of all things concerning God.15 This relates to the three levels of knowing John distinguishes: (1) knowledge gained by means of the exterior senses and formed and stored in the interior senses of the sensory part of the soul; (2) this knowledge is received in the spiritual faculty of the intellect, which creates the second level of knowledge in the form of universal concepts by means of abstraction; and (3) the supernatural knowledge bestowed in the intellect by God.16 The first two levels of knowing are natural knowledge, which is acquired through the senses and expressed in distinctive forms and figures. The third level of knowledge, however, is immaterial and without boundaries, forms, and figures, and therefore “ineffable.”17 This is reflected in John’s appreciation of the sensory and of the spiritual parts of the soul, and their two opposing orientations: the sensory part of the soul is the lower part, which orients the soul toward the satisfaction of sense and self, and the spiritual part is the higher part, which orients the soul toward God. It is however important to note that John sees the sensory part and the spiritual part of the soul as “one suppositum” and that, even though the essential experience of God is ineffable, a remote knowledge of God can be known, by means of the senses, through the created world.18

14  N. 2. 5. 1–4, N. 2. 6. 1–4, and N. 2. 9. 2. For how this affects the experience of the soul, see also: N. 2. 7. 4–5. 15  See for instance: N. 2. 17. 3. 16  Steven Payne, O.C.D., John of the Cross and the Cognitive Value of Mysticism: An Analysis of Sanjuanist teaching and its Philosophical Implications for Contemporary Discussions of Mystical Experience (Dordrecht/Boston/London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1990), 16–49 and F. England, “An Architectonics of Desire: the Person on the Path to Nada in John of the Cross,” in Acta Theologica 33, no. 1 (January 2013), 79–95. 17  F. 2. 10–11. John offers here three reasons: language will not be able to convey such a delicate experience, he is reluctant to speak of it for fear of doing the experience injustice, and the difficulty to describe something, which has no form or figure. See also: Payne, The Cognitive Value of Mysticism, 32–33 and 99–104. 18  C. 5. 1–3; C. 14 & 15. 12–16; C. 39. 11–12. Crisógono de Jesús, The Life of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kathleen Pond (London/New York, NY: Longmans Green/Harpers & Brothers, 1958), 312. Crisógono refers to the exuberance and oriental colors and richness with which John in the Spiritual Canticle “gathers together all the beauties of visible creation.”

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The African migrants in their narratives, however, are more vocal in expressing the presence of God, which is grounded in their day-to-day experiences and often expressed in a material manner. When they speak of their ability to cope and of their accomplishments, they refer to God as the one providing for them materially and by giving them the strength, hope, and courage to address the obstacles and challenges they encounter. In general, the African migrants’ narratives are more vocal about the presence of God and faith in relation to the strength and blessings they have received in comparison to when they speak about their experiences of loss and vulnerability. Therefore, African migrants in their narratives emphasize God’s participation in transforming their lives as they concretely and practically engage the new life they are trying to build.19 In this dissonance between John’s narrative and the African migrants’ narratives, John places the experience of God predominantly in the spiritual part of the soul and emphasizes that the final experience of transformation happens in the next life, whereas the African migrants express the experience of God predominantly in a sensory manner and emphasize that the experience of transformation happens in this life. However, there are nuances in both narratives, when considering the apparent opposite emphasis in their respective perspectives on the relationship between the human and the divine. John’s narrative portrays an inward and outward movement in the effects of purification and illumination: the experience of purification creates an inward movement from the sensory part of the soul to the spiritual part of the soul and the experience of illumination creates an outward movement in which the transformation effected in the spiritual part of the soul shines through in the sensory part of the soul, in the love of neighbor and of God, and in exercising the virtues.20 This dynamic reflects John’s notion that the sensory and spiritual part of the soul forms

19  When the African migrants in their narratives explain how they cope with challenges and loss, one plot element keeps returning: “It takes God …” (Hatiri-na-thina, Interview by T.J.M. van Gaal, February 9, 2015). Regardless of the depth of their struggles, and even when participants experience moments of doubt, they all express that their ultimate ability to cope and achieve settlement rests on their ability to trust in God as the source of all their actions. They explain how God provides, how God’s presence changes their perspective on the challenges encountered, and how their awareness of God’s presence in their migration experience affects them in their way of being and in their relationships with others. 20  See for instance: N. 1. 12. 7–8, N. 1. 13. 4–6, and N. 2. 19. 3. See also: C. 19. 5–6 and C. 36. 3–5.

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“one suppositum.”21 Even though the final union in God through participation happens in the next life, some of its effects can be experienced in the here and now, both spiritually and sensory.22 The African migrants in their narratives show their awareness of their dependence on God. In their material and sensory manner of speaking about God, they also show an awareness of their limited knowledge about God and God’s agency. They do know that God helps them, but they do not know how God helps them. Kūohera, for instance, explains that faith is “precious” and “hard to explain.”23 Furthermore, amid their active responses to the experiences of loss and vulnerability, they describe an element of surrender of all this activity and feeling vulnerable on to God. This points to an interconnectedness between their exterior and interior experiences and to an appreciation of God’s presence and agency both sensory and spiritually. Therefore, both narratives speak about interconnectedness between the sensory and the spiritual and between exterior and interior experiences of God.

How the African Migrants’ Narratives Enlighten the Narrative of the Dark Night Even though John in his perspective on the structure of the soul and the African migrants in their expression of God’s presence display interconnectedness between the sensory and the spiritual, their emphasis is nevertheless opposite to one another. This observation raises the question how in the correlation of this dissonant the narratives question and enlighten each other. The difference in emphasis regarding their perception of God’s presence places their narratives on opposite sides in the spectrum of congruent Christian God-talk. The purpose of congruent Christian God-talk is to safeguard both God’s transcendence and involvement in the world and the relationship between God’s creative agency and a creature’s efficacy.24 John structures his theological narrative around the emphasis on God’s  N. 1. 4. 2, N. 2. 1. 1, and N. 2. 3. 1. See also: Payne, The Cognitive Value of Mysticism, 18.  See for instance: C. 36. 4 and Kavanaugh, “Glossary,” in The Collected Works of John of the Cross, 611. 23  Kūohera, Interview by T.J.M. van Gaal, June 2, 2015, (Q6: 42). 24  Kathryn Tanner, God and Creation in Christian Theology: Tyranny or Empowerment? (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), 37–45 and 81–92. 21

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transcendence and the primacy of God’s creative agency. This is reflected in his concern to safeguard God’s total otherness in relation to the human and to the entire created world. The African migrants in their narratives emphasize God’s involvement in creation and in their own efficacy. This is reflected in the aspects of an African spirituality in which the nature of being is perceived as immersed in the interdependence of all elements of reality, the religious universe, and the divine.25 The African migrants in their narratives perceive God as the transcendent agent who is not only intrinsically connected to all realities, but who is also the source of all their created activity. God provides them with the capacity to act, which Hatiri-­ na-­thina expresses when she says: “It takes God.”26 John’s perspective and the African migrants’ perspective manifest the diversity possible in the spectrum of congruent Christian God-talk, a diversity that is caused by many variables, be they theological, philosophical, or temporal and cultural 27: I am correlating the narrative of a sixteenth-­ century Spanish mystic and theologian with the narratives of twentieth- and twenty-first-century Catholic migrants from Africa to the U.S. In this dissonance regarding the relationship between the human and the divine and between the sensory and the spiritual it is the narratives of the African migrants that question and enlighten the way John perceives the sensory and the spiritual parts of the soul in its relationship with God. Not only do their narratives point to the interconnectedness between the sensory and the spiritual, as John acknowledges as well, but they also point to the possibility of a simultaneous exterior and interior experience and understanding of God.28 The African migrants correct John’s appreciation of the sensory as “lower” and the spiritual as “higher,” by appreciating 25  See for instance R. Sumbuli Mosha, The Heartbeat of Indigenous Africa: A Study of the Chagga Educational System (New York, NY: Garland Publishing/Taylor & Francis, 2000), 15; and Laurent Magesa, What Is Not Sacred? African Spirituality (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2013). 26  Hatiri-na-thina, (Q1: 7 & 22). 27  Tanner, God and Creation in Christian Theology, 104–118 and van Gaal, God Dey– Surrendering to God’s Grace, 48. For an example on philosophical, temporal, and sociopolitical variables affecting the discourse on the transcendence of God, see: Mayra Rivera, “Glory: The First Passion of Theology?” In Polydoxy: Theologies of the Manifold, eds. Catherine Keller and Laurel Schneider (New York, NY: Routledge 2010), 167–181. 28  I am aware that John in his life and poems manifests a more immanent and sensory experience of the divine and that his works center around the effort to navigate the two contraries that define the opposite sites of the spectrum of Christian God-talk. Nevertheless, it is John’s concern to safeguard the radical otherness of the divine.

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them as equal. In their narratives they bring to the fore a possibility, which John does mention, but seems hesitant to emphasize, namely: to appreciate God’s transcendent presence and agency both sensory and spiritually and in the here and now. The African migrants in their narratives actually and equally employ, in the words of John, “the energy and power of this whole harmonious composite”29 as they experience and celebrate the goodness and delicate delight of the inflow of God here and now and in the life to come. Instances of Affirmation The process of correlation uncovered that both narratives affirm each other on several aspects regarding the transitional phases, the experience of liminality, and the experience of transformation. Although their points of departure differ contextually, both narratives affirm each other in how they experience departure. Firstly, both the African migrants and John perceive the departure from their place or state as the beginning of a journey, with the purpose to seek improvement from the circumstances left behind, led by the promise of the intended destination. Secondly, the two narratives affirm each other in that God is experienced both in the causes of the departure and in the goal they seek to achieve. Thirdly, they both describe departure not only as leaving behind one’s previous life but also as becoming a stranger to one’s self. In the transitional phase of negotiation and settlement both narratives affirm each other in how they define experiences of descent in the equivalence between experiences of obstacles and challenges in the African migrants’ narratives and experiences of impediments in the effect of purification as described in the dark night. In both narratives, memories of and attachments to one’s former life and its prosperities form the central obstacle or impediment for advancement on the journey. New impediments or obstacles they encounter along their respective journeys affect an ongoing need to leave aspects of one’s former life behind, resulting in reoccurring experiences of departure and of descent. Both narratives also affirm each other in how they define experiences of ascent in the 29  N. 2. 11. 4. Here John points to “how remarkable and how strong this enkindling of love in the spirit can be” and to the possibility that in this harmonious composite “all the strength, faculties, and appetites of the soul, spiritual and sensory alike” can be employed by this love, “neither disdaining anything human, nor excluding it.”

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equivalence between aspects of success and settlement the African migrants’ narratives and the benefits experienced in the effect of illumination in the dark night. In both narratives they represent precursors of the experience of arrival, when defined as the endpoint of the journey (as John does). This latter equivalence, however, was only uncovered after gaining insight in the way both narratives questioned and enlightened each other regarding the experience of arrival, as explained above. The importance of these affirmations in the transitional phases is that they explain equivalence in dynamic, namely that from the point of departure onward both narratives display an oscillation between experiences of departure and experiences of arrival. In the African migrants’ narratives this dynamic is recognized in the oscillation between their emigrant and immigrant identities. In the narrative of the dark night, it is recognized in the oscillation between experiences of purification and illumination both in the sensory and in the spiritual part of the soul. It is this dynamic between experiences of departure, or descent, and of arrival, or ascent, that characterizes the experience of being in transition and affects the experience of liminality. In the correlation of the experience of liminality both narratives affirm each other in the effects of the departure from the known structures of one’s former way of life. Both narratives define this experience of anti-­ structure by speaking of external and internal loss, of abandonment, and of powerlessness. The narratives are equivalent in what it means to become a liminal being or to be in a liminal stage: both the African migrants and John speak of loss of the ability of making sense of self, of life, and of the surrounding world. Their narratives are equivalent in the effect caused by this experience: it affects becoming vulnerable.30 Correlating the respective responses to becoming vulnerable uncovered differences in their respective coping strategies. Nevertheless, both narratives affirm each other in that faith is the foundation of all coping strategies employed. And even though the way faith manifests itself differs, both in the manner that it is spoken of and in the manner it is employed, the two narratives show an equivalence in the effects of faith: they display 30  These observations in the African migrants’ narratives align with observations Hildegund Keul makes when she writes about the concept of vulnerability in migration experiences. See: Hildegund Keul, “The Venture of Vulnerability: Christological Engravings on Disturbing Questions about Migration,” in Migration as a Sign of the Times, 182. John also takes great pain to convey the depth of the experiences of loss and becoming vulnerable. See for instance: N. 1. 11. 1, N. 2. 3. 3, N. 2. 5. 6, N. 2. 6. 3–4, and N. 2. 7. 1–3.

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growth in the three theological virtues of faith, hope, and love and they develop a focus on God.31 The importance of the equivalence in both narratives regarding the experience of vulnerability and the growing focus on or intentionality in their relationship with God becomes clear when a similar equivalence in effect occurs in the experience of transformation. Becoming vulnerable affects an attitude of spiritual humility, recognized in attitudes of poverty of spirit (in the experience of descent) and freedom of spirit (in the experience of ascent). These attitudes function as two parts of a hinge that explains the process of transformation. In both narratives God, as the central pin in the hinge, is experienced as the transforming agent. Vulnerability, spiritual humility, and the agency or participation of God in this process have become the key concepts for understanding how, regardless of their differences, both narratives affirm each other: they are equivalent in the dynamic of the process of transformation of identity and faith. Fusing Horizons This exploration of instances of resonance and dissonance not only provides insight in how the two narratives affirm, question, and enlighten each other, but also provides comprehension of how the two horizons of these two narratives are fusing in this encounter. Both the interviews of the African migrants and John’s poem and commentary The Dark Night are stories in retrospect. In their respective narratives they construct a plot to bring meaning to their narratives. This “emplotment” allows them to integrate the diverse and sometimes fragmented events they encountered

31  In Chapter 21 of the second book of The Dark Night, John explains the role of the theological virtues and their twofold effect on the faculties of intellect, memory, and will. They purge as they take the faculties away from all that is not God and they illumine as the faculties become strengthened and oriented on divine wisdom, on divine love, and on hope in all things eternal. The African migrants share similar experiences of such an infusion of effect of the theological virtues. For instance, Chi-bu-ike-m portrays her awareness about the effect of faith on the intellect. She explains: “[T]he mind, that is where you should have strong faith in God. Because God is teaching us lesson[s] and showing us signs, that He is here for us.” This understanding of God teaching her through the faculty of intellect drives her actions: her prayer, her patience, and ability to respond to negativity with grace. As her mind is illumined with faith, her will is illumined with love for God and others: the effects of the virtue of charity. Chi-bu-ike-m, Interview T.J.M. van Gaal, June 12, 2015.

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on their journeys and to refigure their understanding of who they are, even in the face of discontinuity and instability.32 In the prologue to the commentary The Dark Night John explains how he composed his poem The Dark Night. The poem reflects on the spiritual journey of a soul who looks back on this journey, while already having reached its goal: “the state of perfection.” The commentary predominantly centers around the first two stanzas of the poem: their theme is that of the darkness experienced on the journey. John, however, does not lose sight of the love and delight received in faith and by divine grace and the soul expresses happiness “at having trod this narrow road from which it derived so much good.”33 He describes this love, which guides the soul through the dark night, and the union of the Lover with the Beloved in the remainder of the stanzas of the poem.34 Similarly, the interviews of the African migrants are also stories in retrospect. The three main questions asked during the interviews triggered moments of reflection in which participants would reflect on their arduous migration journeys, but they would also express gratitude about the graces and gains they experienced.35 This gratitude is always directed to God and the gift of faith when they speak about the skills they gained and opportunities and blessings they received. Such as Kūohera, who at the end of her narrative, full of loss and many challenges, exclaims: So, this is my verse; that whatever happened; whoever did not come for me at the airport; whoever chased me from the house; that was all because God was there for me. Because if He was not there for me; I could not be here. So, everything happened because God wanted me to glorify him. Yes.36

Both the African migrants in their narratives and John in his poem and commentary The Dark Night explain how the experience of vulnerability  See endnote 3.  N. Prol. 34  John elaborates on this experience in his commentaries The Spiritual Canticle and The Living Flame of Love. 35  The interviews with the participants were conducted as unstructured interviews. The only direction given was by means of three questions: (1) how did your migration experience cause a change in who you are?, (2) how would you describe this process?, and (3) how did your faith play a role in this change? 36  Kūohera, Interview by T.J.M. van Gaal, June 2, 2015. This statement presents a beautiful example of how in reaching such understanding of the presence of God Kūohera reconstructs the meaning of her personal migration narrative. 32 33

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affects growth in spiritual humility and how in attaining the attitudes of “poverty of spirit” and “freedom of spirit,” one comes to understand how vulner-ability, through the agency of God, transforms into cope-ability.37 They explain that God is the agent who is the main character of their narratives and who accomplishes this transformation from feeling vulnerable to feeling blessed and strengthened. This understanding of God’s transformative agency also affects a transformation of the understanding of one’s self and of one’s relationship with God. In sum, the analysis of and correlation between the migration narratives of African migrants to the U.S. and John of the Cross’ poem and commentary The Dark Night reveals the dynamic of the process of spiritual transformation in which vulnerability, humility, and God’s transformative agency are key concepts. The relationship between these concepts, as defined by both narratives, structures the plot in their narratives and explains that it is in their perception of God’s agency that they refigure the understanding of their experience of transformation of identity and faith. On the Experiences of Spiritual Descent and Ascent The exploration of the dissonance regarding the relationship between the human and the divine reveals that both narratives perceive the relationship between the concepts that articulate the human-divine relationship as co-­ dependent. The pairs of paradoxical concepts (such as the sensory and spiritual, exterior and interior, active and passive, descent and ascent, and God as immanent and effable and as transcendent and ineffable) need each other and are mutually inclusive rather than mutually exclusive. This constellation of interdependency defines the two core characteristics of the process of spiritual transformation of faith and identity: (1) that this transformation happens in the dynamic between the exterior, or sensory, and the interior, or spiritual, aspects that define the experiences of both the African migrants and a soul in a dark night, and (2) that the interior or spiritual dimension of this transformation is characterized by the dynamic between experiences of spiritual descent and spiritual ascent. 37  I use the hyphenated vulner-ability to express the transformation to the cope-ability. Doing so refers to the origins of the word “vulnerable,” which is ultimately derived from the Latin noun vulnus (“wound”). See “Vulnerable,” Merriam-Webster.com, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Incorporated, 2019), https:// www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/delicate and https://www.merriam-webster.com/ thesaurus/vulnerable.

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The very concrete (exterior) experiences of vulnerability affect both external and internal losses. It is in the experience of internal loss, and the powerlessness it affects, that the interior transformation happens. Central to understanding the interior or spiritual dimension of the process of transformation is that the transformational moment calls for (1) the surrender of one’s vulnerability to God and (2) the abandonment of those attachments, which, be they material or immaterial, are impediments to the process of transformation. The interior surrender to God defines the spiritual dimension of the very concrete or exterior experiences of descent, in which God’s agency can become effective. In this transformational moment, the interior experience of God affects poverty of spirit and the ability to abandon impeding attachments. Letting go of these impediments in turn affects the attainment of freedom of spirit, which defines the spiritual dimension of ascent and is imbedded in the very concrete or exterior experiences of coping and success. Therefore, the spiritual development uncovered in the African migrants’ narratives is defined by both the sensory and the spiritual aspects of their migrant experience and the spiritual transformation they experience is defined by both the exteriority and interiority of their experiences of descent and ascent.

Migrant Spirituality: In Discussion with Gemma T. Cruz In her reflections on migration spirituality, Cruz sets out to articulate how the experience of migrants will redefine the contours of Christian spirituality. In her theological reflections she describes two forms of spirituality (a “spirituality of the cross” and a “spirituality of pilgrimage”) that can be related to the migrant experience, before offering a third option, which, in Cruz’s perspective, better reflects the migrant experience: “a spirituality of hope and life.”38 This spirituality of hope and life finds its expression in the survival quality of life, which is nourished and supported by the virtues of hope, faith, and love and by prayer and joy. Christian migrants connect their experiences to the life of Christ. Jesus’ life was filled with both “great promise and great suffering” and Christ’s “resurrection offers migrants hope that they will also overcome all that threatens their lives, even as they

 Ibid., 146.

38

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surrender in trust without knowing the final or even intermediate outcome of their journey.”39 I agree with Cruz’s critique that a “spirituality of the cross” emphasizes loss and vulnerability in migrants’ experiences of being uprooted and in living on the margin.40 It is also important to recognize their strength and their coping strategies when she speaks of migrants’ courageous hope, creative resistance, steadfast faith, and festive community spirit: the four values in the migrant way of life, which “drive, sustain, empower, and strengthen migrants” on their journey.41 Cruz points to the importance of the connection between the meaning of the Cross and the values and promises of the Kingdom of God and when she states that migrants “are not just victims, but also subjects and agents of their own destiny … [and] their experience shows us that in the midst of pain and sin it is possible to discover God’s abundant grace.”42 I, however, raise questions, when Cruz critiques a “spirituality of pilgrimage”43 and dismisses “spiritualities of ascent” as a helpful framework to understand migrant spirituality. The spirituality John of the Cross develops in his works is generally considered to be a spirituality of ascent, and his treatise The Ascent of Mount Carmel is indicative of this. Although Cruz does not refer to any particular authors or spiritual commentaries, she explains that, according to her, Christian spiritual commentators speak of a model of Christian life as ascent or climbing toward God in a manner analogous to the angels ascending and descending the ladder in Jacob’s dream or Moses climbing up the mountain of Sinai where he meets God. Indeed, in Christian spirituality there is an entire ascent literature in which spiritual commentators have even mapped out steps, which had to be taken to move up from this world to the world of God. While such an understanding relates to the idea of pilgrimage, it probably could not fully speak of/to migrants’ experience of spiritual journey.44

 Ibid., 148–149.  Ibid., 140–143. 41  Ibid., 127. 42  Ibid., 151. 43  Ibid., 143–146. 44  Ibid., 144. 39 40

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Even though, John in his works applies the metaphors Cruz here describes,45 I beg to differ with her observations. Cruz’s critique regarding spirituality of ascent rests on her observations that migration experiences emphasize an experience of descent, rather than ascent. Cruz explains that migrants search for God and encounter God as they descent into the mundane struggles of migrant life and that “the spiritual journey for migrants is probably not a direct or immediate ascent.” In her reflections, Cruz understands ascent from the perspective of “spiritualities of ascent” and defines it as leaving the mundane behind as one focuses on the upward movement toward God.46 Cruz emphasizes that migrant spirituality develops in daily life experiences and posits that migrant experiences show that Christian spirituality should not be merely concerned with interiority but should seek “an integration of all aspects of human life and experiences.”47 Responding to Cruz: The concerns Cruz raises regarding spiritualities of ascent are not uncommon. Interpretations of John’s work, for instance, have emphasized his asceticism and the need for (in the active night of the spirit) and the effect of (in the passive night of the spirit) purification. Constance Fitzgerald and Peter Tyler have pointed to the dangers of this emphasis and how it omits to see the other dynamics of the spiritual journey, namely the effect of illumination and that John’s teaching on the spiritual journey is framed by the concepts of love and desire.48 The narratives of the African migrants seem to affirm Cruz’s perception of a spirituality of ascent as they question John’s appreciation of the sensory and the spiritual. However, in the exploration of this dissonance, I pointed out that the narratives of the African migrants and John in his narrative of the dark night speak about an interconnectedness between the sensory and the spiritual and that it is in the dynamic between the sensory, or exterior, and the spiritual, or interior, that spiritual transformation happens.

 See for instance: N. 2. 18–20.  Ibid., 144. 47  Ibid., 150. 48  Tyler, St. John, 50; Fitzgerald, “Impasse and Dark Night,” 97; and Fitzgerald, “From Impasse to Prophetic Hope,” and Fitzgerald, Interview, November 2, 2018. See also: Payne, The Cognitive Value of Mysticism, 1–3 and Dubois, To Be More Fully Alive: John of the Cross and Judith Butler on Transformation of Self (Ph.D. diss., University of Notre Dame, July 2018) 201. 45 46

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I submit, therefore, that in disregarding spiritualities of ascent, such as the spirituality of John of the Cross, as a framework for understanding the spiritual dimensions of migration experiences, Cruz shifts the emphasis away from the interior, or spiritual, to the exterior, or sensory. This prevents her from observing that the dynamic between experiences of spiritual descent and ascent constitutes the transformational moment in which, through the agency of God, spiritual transformation happens. Although Cruz may rightly argue against the risk connected to abandoning the mundane inherent in spiritualities of ascent, the process of transformation does call for a moment of surrender and abandonment of those attachments, which, be they material or immaterial, are impediments to the experience of transformation. The African migrants in their narratives explain that it is in the interior and passive surrender of their vulnerability to God that they come to experience the efficacy of God’s presence: they receive the ability to let go of aspects that impede their settlement and to develop a new life in which they creatively and critically engage the diverse elements of their migrant identity.49 As they describe how they grow in faith, hope, and love, they not only come closer to God, but they also become like God, which is recognized in their gratitude, humility, kindness, and generosity. In Cruz’s words, I would say that this does constitute a “direct or immediate ascent” experienced here and now and in the messy descent of their migrant lives. This means that the characteristics of the “spirituality of pilgrimage” do speak to the migrant experiences, including its aspects of descent and ascent. It also means a reassessment of the four values that support migrants on their journeys50 from which Cruz derives the three types of spirituality she discerns in migration experiences.51 Cruz claims that the characteristics of the “spirituality of hope and life” define the migrant experience best. I, however, claim that these three types of spirituality and 49  Here it is good to mention how the loss of faith, particular to the African migrants’ experiences, contributes to the interior dimension of the process of transformation. Their inability to find welcoming and vibrant faith communities takes away the advantage of strengthening their faith by means of a “festive community spirit,” which Cruz mentions as an important value in migration experience. This lack transforms their relationship with God into a more individual and intentional relationship and deepens the interior or spiritual dimension of their experience, which is part of the dynamic between the exterior and interior aspects of the experience of transformation. 50  Cruz, o.c., 127–140. 51  Cruz, Toward a Theology of Migration, 140–151.

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their respective characteristics are interconnected as elements of one process of spiritual transformation. The “spirituality of the cross” speaks to the experience of sensory and spiritual descent, and the “spirituality of pilgrimage” and the “spirituality of hope and life” both speak to the simultaneous experience of descent and ascent: sensory and spiritual. If these three types of spirituality are interconnected, then so too are the four values Cruz describes: “steadfast faith” is both object and agent of transformation, which affects the coping strategies of “courageous hope” and “creative resistance” that migrants attain, and the “festive community spirit” is where this faith is both celebrated and nourished.

Conclusion The central findings of my research reveal how the spiritual dimension of the African migrants’ experiences and the process of transformation they experience are embedded in the mundane struggles of their migration experiences. My research also uncovers that the transformational moment happens in the simultaneity of the experience of spiritual descent and ascent: it is the surrender and abandonment of the spiritual descent that simultaneously affects the spiritual ascent in which God’s agency becomes affective amid these mundane struggles. This is recognized in the migrants’ narratives as they describe how their lives become centered on God. This new awareness of their relationship with God affects courage, strength, and the ability to cope and to create not only a new life of faith in a new context, but also to develop a critical and creative relationship between the diverse and transnational elements of their migrant identity. Therefore, I can say that the comprehension gained in the correlation between the narratives of African migrants to the U.S. and John of the Cross’ narrative of the dark night does contribute to furthering the understanding of migrant spirituality.

Bibliography Castillo Guerra, Jorge E. “Coexistence of Pluralities through Practices of Intercultural Relationships.” Interreligious Studies and Intercultural Theology 2, no. 2 (2018): 155-176. Crisógono de Jesus. The Life of St. John of the Cross. Translated by Kathleen Pond. London/New York: Longmans Green/Harpers & Brothers, 1958. Cruz, Gemma Tulud. Toward a Theology of Migration: Social Justice and Religious Experience. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.

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Dubois, Heather M. To Be More Fully Alive: John of the Cross and Judith Butler on Transformation of Self. Ph.D. diss., University of Notre Dame, July 2018. England, F. “An Architectonics of Desire: The Person on the Path to Nada in John of the Cross.” Acta Theologica 33, no. 1 (January 2013): 79-95. https://doi. org/10.4314/actat.v33i1.4 FitzGerald, O.C.D., Constance. “From Impasse to Prophetic Hope: Crisis of Memory.” In Catholic Theological Society of America, the Proceedings of the Sixty-fourth Annual Convention, edited by Jonathan Y. Tan, 21-41. Cincinnati, OH: Xavier University, 2009. FitzGerald, O.C.D. “Impasse and Dark Night.” In Living with Apocalypse, edited by Tilden H. Edwards, 92-116. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984. John of the Cross. The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross. Translated by Kiernan Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D.  Washington D.C., ICS Publications, 1991. Kavanaugh, Kieran. “Glossary to Collected Works.” In Collected Works of St. John of the Cross. Translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriquez, O.C.D. Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991. Keul, Hildegund. “The Venture of Vulnerability: Christological Engravings on Disturbing Questions about Migration.” In Migration as a Sign of the Times: Towards a Theology of Migration, edited by Judith Gruber and Sigrid Rettenbacher, 167-190. Leiden/Boston: Brill/Rodopi, 2015. Magesa, Laurent. What is Not Sacred? African Spirituality. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2013. Mosha, R. Sumbuli. The Heartbeat of Indigenous Africa: A Study of the Chagga Educational System. New  York, NY: Garland Publishing / Taylor & Francis, 2000. Paul VI. Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World—Gaudium et Spes. Vatican: Holy See, 1965. Payne, O.C.D., Steven. John of the Cross and the Cognitive Value of Mysticism: An Analysis of Sanjuanist teaching and its Philosophical Implications for Contemporary Discussions of Mystical Experience. Dordrecht/Boston/London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1990. Ricoeur, Paul. Figuring the Sacred: Religion, Narrative, and Imagination. Edited by Mark I. Wallace. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1995. Ricoeur, Paul. Soi-même Comme un Autre. Paris: Édition du Seuil, 1990. Rivera, Mayra “Glory: The First Passion of Theology?” In Polydoxy: Theologies of the Manifold, edited by Catherine Keller and Laurel Schneider, 167-181. New York, NY: Routledge 2010, 167-181. Schillebeeckx, O.P., Edward. Geloofsverstaan: Interpretatie and Kritiek. Theologische Peilingen Deel V. Bloemendaal: Uitgeverij H. Nelissen, 1972. Tanner, Kathryn. God and Creation in Christian Theology: Tyranny or Empowerment? Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988.

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Tracy, David. The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture of Pluralism. London: SCM Press, LTD, 1981. Turner, Victor W. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-structure. Chicago IL: Aldine Publishing Company, 1969. Tyler, Peter M. St. John of the Cross. New York: Continuum, 2010. Van Gaal, Dorris. Migrant Spirituality: Correlating the Narratives of African Migrants of the USA and the Dark Night of John of the Cross. Vienna: LIT Verlag, 2021. Van Gennep, Arnold. The Rites of Passage. Translated by Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee and introduction by Solon T. Kimball. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1960. “Vulnerable.” All definitions. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster Incorporated, 2019. Waaijman, Kees. Spirituality: Forms, Foundation, Methods. Leuven: Peeters, 2002.

CHAPTER 15

Polishing the Mirror of the Heart: Sufi Poetic Reflections as Interfaith Inspiration for Peace Barbara Pemberton

Seeking the Beloved The high road to God for your spirit, by which your prayers can reach God, is the polishing of the mirror of the heart.1 —Eleventh-century Persian poet Sana’i

Early within the Muslim community there were individuals who sought a deeper devotional experience rising out of their love of God. This devotional urge, combined with a disdain for the cultural and political worldliness of the day, fostered the development of a mystical movement which would embrace the symbolic and mystical elements of Islam and construct 1  Abu’l-Majdud B. Adam Sana’i, quoted in Readings from the Mystics of Islam, trans. and ed. by Margaret Smith (London: Luzac & Co. Ltd., 1972), 74. Sana’i (1056–1141) was a Persian poet acclaimed by Rumi.

B. Pemberton (*) Department of Missions, Ouachita Baptist University, Arkadelphia, AR, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_15

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from it a gnosticism still solidly rooted in traditional Islamic thought.2 Eventually attaining broad appeal, this mystical aspect of Islam—embodied in the exercises of rites, supererogatory prayers, and spiritual pedagogy—provided an opportunity for the common seeker to join body and soul in the worship experience. At first, mystics typically met together in “circles,” informal gatherings at which participants engaged in religious discussions. These gatherings were considered neither a threat to, nor a replacement for, the established practices of Islam; however, this changed as music and dance were introduced. The movement avoided a thoroughgoing institutional monasticism due to the Prophet’s critique of the monastic lifestyle.3 The term Sufi, from suf or wool—from the coarse garments of the ascetics—eventually became the common designation for the mystics of Islam. Rich with images and metaphors, Islamic mystical poetry appeared featuring three interlocking themes within the context of “seeking the Beloved.” These “themes of the heart”—the path of purification of the heart, the remembrance of the Beloved as expressed in the Prayer of the Heart, and the polished mirror of the heart—are descriptive of the gnostic life: the journey or path of purification one must take in search for God. This early Islamic mystic spirituality drew from rich sources including the Qur’an, the Mi‘raj accounts,4 and the vast Arabic, Persian, and Urdu poetic heritages. The originally secular pre-Islamic Qasida (consisting of prelude, desert journey, and panegyric) developed into a broader-styled medieval poem with a variety of sub-genres, including the khamriyya, or wine ode, and the ghazal or love poem, which provided the nuance of divine love.5 This genre addresses themes spanning the Islamic world and has survived generations in spite of philosophical developments and changing socio-political situations. A female mystic, Rabi‘a al-Adawiyya Al-Qaysiyya of Basra (714–801), is credited with introducing the strong element of selfless love, love for  Later development in this movement would edge toward pantheistic monism.  The Prophet admired monastics and their pursuit of spirituality but did object to the institution of monasticism in light of what he believed to be God’s intended plan for families. See Q.57:27. 4  The Mi‘raj, drawn from Sura 81:19–25 and 53: 1–12, relates the Prophet’s ascent to the divine throne. 5  Andrea Brigaglia, “EU-RAP-IA: Rap, Sufism and the Arab Qasida in Europe,” in Global Sufism: Boundaries, Structures, and Politics, ed. Francesco Piraino and Mark Sedgwick (London: Hurst & Company: 2019), 95–6. 2 3

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love’s sake, into Sufism recording: “[M]y Beloved is ever in my presence. Nothing for me will do but love of Him.”6 She prays: Oh Lord, if I worship You because of fear of hell then burn me in hell. If I worship You because I desire paradise, then exclude me from paradise. But if I worship You for Yourself alone then deny me not Your eternal beauty.7

Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240), spiritual master par excellence, taught that all people must ask how they can find God. Upon receiving an answer, each individual must set out to verify that answer by finding God in actuality, not in theory. Well-known Islamic traditions explain why God ultimately reveals himself, reflecting his attributes like sunbeams on a mirror. We find in hadith qudsi: I was a Hidden Treasure and I yearned, I loved to be known intimately. … So I created the heavens and the Earth so that they may know Me intimately.8 My heavens cannot contain Me, neither can My Earth. But the heart of My faithful devotee suffices Me.9

Abu Hashim (d. 776), the first known to be called as-sufi, teaches: “Inner transformation of the heart is the true essence of Sufism.”10 Hazrat Inayat Khan (1882–1927) writes: “I searched and searched and searched and I could not find Thee anywhere. … But at last I have found Thee hidden in the shell of my heart.”11 6  Rabi‘a al-Adawiyya Al-Qaysiyya, Islamic Mystical Poetry: Sufi Verse from the Mystics to Rumi, ed. Jamal Mahmood, trans. by Martin Longs (London: Penguin Books: 2009), 5, 10. See Margaret Smith, Rabi‘a the Mystic & Her Fellow-Saints in Islam: Being the Life and Teachings of Rabi‘a al-Adawiyya Al-Qaysiyya of Basra Together With Some Account of the Place of the Women Saints in Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1928), 12. Most female mystics practiced an extreme asceticism including severe fasting to inhibit menstruation so as not to be prohibited from prayer. Sufism provided not only a spiritual avenue, but also an escape from the guardianship of and obedience to men. 7  Ibid., 8. Rabi‘a al-Adawiyya Al-Qaysiyya, trans. Jamal. 8  Hadith Qudsi quoted in Radical Love: Teachings from the Islamic Mystical Tradition, ed. Omid Safi (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018), 21. trans. Safi. 9  Ibid., 25. 10  Abu Hashim, quoted in A Rosary of Islamic Readings: 7th–20th Century, ed. G. Allana (Karachi: National Publishing House Ltd., 1973), 78. 11  Hazrat Inayat Khan, quoted in Safi, 46.

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For the mystic the heart is a secret, sacred location, not an organ of flesh and blood. Abu Yazid al-Bistami (777–848) reveals: “[T]he Sacred Throne is a humble heart.”12 Sufism identifies three avenues of spiritual receptivity: the heart that knows God, the spirit that loves God, and the inner soul that contemplates God. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (1058–1111) renowned for “bringing the two extremes of Sunni orthodoxy and ritualism and mystical awareness and devotion together”13 taught that faith is acquired only through “the life of the heart.” Qalb, the word “heart” in Arabic, derives from the same root as the verbal noun “fluctuation,” connoting transformation, change, reversal. The mystic recognizes the heart as a place of continuous fluctuation, as supported by hadith in which God is called the “Turner of hearts” or “He who makes hearts fluctuate.”14 Tradition instructs: Verily, the hearts of all the sons of Adam are between the two fingers out of the fingers of the Compassionate Lord as one heart. He turns that to any direction He likes. … O Allah, the Turner of the hearts, turn our hearts to Thine obedience.15

This explains the heart’s tremendous capacity: it dwells “between two of the fingers of the Merciful.”16 Sufi shaykh Hafiz (d. 1389) explains: “My heart is the secret place where His love abides: my eyes hold the mirror to His Face. Look not at the outward poverty of Hafiz, for his inner self is the treasure-house of the Divine love.”17

The Path of Purification of the Heart Return to yourself, oh heart! For from the heart a hidden road can be found to the Beloved. … Come into the heart, the place of contemplating God! Though is not so now, it can be made so.18 —Rumi  Abu Yazid al-Bistami, quoted in Allana, 117.  Ruqaiyyah Waris Maqsood, A Basic Dictionary of Islam (New Delhi: GoodWord Books, 2001), 78. 14  Al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart: The Revival of the Religious Sciences, trans. Walter James Skellie (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2010), 77. The shaykh found the mirror a favorite analogy: obedience polishes the mirror of the heart so that it may reflect true reality. (Al-Ghazali, Forward by T.J. Winter, xxi–xxii.) 15  Sahih Muslim 2655 (Book 46: The Book of Destiny) Hadith 29; Book 33, Hadith 6418. 16  Al-Ghazali, 56, 132. 17  Shams al-din Hafiz, quoted in Smith, Readings, 113–4. 18  Rumi, quoted in The Sufi Path of Love: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi, ed. William C. Chittick (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983), 37, 8. 12 13

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Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207–1273) expresses not only the universal search for God, but also the common frustration of falling short and the need for repentance. Sufi wisdom teaches that to know yourself truly is to know God, for the “mirror of the heart” reflects the Divine, but only that mirror that has been cleansed of the impurities the phenomenal self has absorbed. Najm al-Din Ridawi Uzlat, the celebrated Sufi poet of Sind, offers: “Remove the dirt of the mirror of your soul with the cleansing cloth of prayers and the mirror will reflect the image of Him you wish to see.”19 Ibn al-Husayn al-Sulami (937–1021) warns: “Do not wear the garb of the Sufi before you have qualified for it by cleansing your heart.”20 Punjabi poet Baba Bulleh Shah (1680–1757) asks: You have learnt so much and read a thousand books. Have you ever read your Self? You have gone to mosque and temple. Have you ever visited your soul? You are busy fighting Satan. Have you ever fought your ill intentions? You have reached into the skies, but you have failed to reach what’s in your heart!21

Rumi adds: “How do you ever expect for your heart to become polished like a mirror? Without putting up with the pain of polish?”22 This question resonates with David’s plea in the Zabur: “Create in me a clean heart, Oh God; and restore a right spirit within me.”23 David continues in Psalm 139:23–24: Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.

Since God is involved in the polishing process, it is essential that the seeker be on a legitimate path, one on which the seeker may be assured

 Najam al-Din Ridawi Uzlat, quoted in Allana, 332–3.  Ibn al-Husayn al-Sulami, The Way of Sufi Chivalry, trans. Tosun Bayrak al-Jerrahi (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Tradition International, 1991), 42. 21  Baba Bulleh Shah, quoted in Jamal, 310. 22  Rumi, quoted in Safi, 79. 23  Psalm 51:10, Holy Bible, King James Version. 19 20

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that God will indeed be involved in the process.24 Sufism can be called the “mystical path of love,” for it is the “interior path” or way (tariqa) in contrast to the “exterior path” or way (sharia) of Islamic law. The goal of this esoteric path of spiritual disciplines is not knowledge of God, but to know God—a gnosis that illumines the heart. The paradigmatic mystical journey is the Mi‘raj, Muhammad’s journey to the divine throne (sura 17:1 and various traditions). The Sufi traveler engages in spiritual warfare to overcome those forces that would prevent entry to the throne room, which is the heart itself. The development of the disciplined, virtuous life is combined with the invocation of the divine Name, or “Prayer of the Heart,” guided by the spiritual master in order to reach the goal of direct experience of the Divine. Sultan Bahu (1628–1691) instructs: God is not up there, my friends, Nor in the Kaaba does He reside; He is not in learned books, nor inside the minaret He hides; He is not in Ganga, Jamuna, nor He in Benaras abides. Don’t get lost in searching for Him. Find yourself a truthful guide.25

To aid the novice in the polishing of the heart, the spiritual guide or shaykh assigns specific prayers and mediation. Sufi masters teach each disciple according to his or her individual capacities, calling upon what many scholars have considered to be an amazing awareness and application of practical psychology. Novices revere their shaykh, as illustrated by a story from the life of Rumi. One of his devoted followers, Seryanus, got in trouble with local townspeople for calling his master “lord” and was called to appear before a judge. In his eloquent defense, he explained by saying, “He [Rumi] makes God real to me.”26 Novices, or wayfarers, who are traveling along the path led by the master, reach various stages and degrees 24  Sufism became a system of religious orders or organized brotherhoods in which the novice pledges unquestioning submission and receives rigorous discipline from the master. A legitimate master, or shaykh, should be able to trace his spiritual lineage through illustrious predecessors all the way back to the Prophet, thereby establishing both authority and the veracity and efficaciousness of all teachings and interpretations. However, since Sufism has no recognized authoritative body of doctrines, divergent tendencies have arisen. The traditional tariqa model is by no means the only legitimate Sufi path today. Piraino and Sedgwick, 138. 25  Sultan Bahu, quoted in Jamal, 291. trans. Jamal. Individuals may be members of any number of orders simultaneously. 26  Safi, xxxii.

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of ascent toward God until, as the great Spanish philosopher Ibn Sina (979–1037) writes, “the gnostic passes on to the stage of contemplating God in Himself … when he passes from striving to attainment, his inmost soul becomes a polished mirror reflecting the Face of God.”27

Remembrance of the Beloved: The Prayer of the Heart The remembrance of the Beloved, dhikr, or Prayer of the Heart, has been called the “spiritual food of the mystic,” for it is at once the most sacred devotional activity performed and the avenue through which the practitioner experiences the Divine. The concept is simple: the one in love loves to repeat the name of the Beloved in order to keep the Beloved constantly in mind. The dhikr draws on Qur’anic instructions that one cannot reach God without constantly remembering Him. Sura 29:45 states: “And remembrance of Allah is the greatest (thing in life) without doubt.”28 Sura 2:152 offers assurance from Allah: “Then do ye remember Me: I will remember You.”29 Punjabi shaykh Farid al-Din Ganj-i-Shakar (1179–1266) opines: Last night I lost my heart in the remembrance of my Beloved. I said, “O my Beloved, with pleasure indeed Will I stand at Thy door and beg for audience with Thee.”30

The Isma’ili poet Khaki Khurasani (d. 1646) instructs: Cleanse with love the mirror of your heart … If your heart is pure as pure must be, The Image of God in it you will see. It is He who has all the worlds created, Him you must remember, morning, noon, and night.31

 Ibn Sina, quoted in Smith, Readings, 48–9.  ‘Abdullah Yusuf ‘Ali, The Meaning of the Holy Qur’an, Eleventh Edition (Beltsville, Maryland: Amana Publications, 1989), 998. 29  Ibid., 62. 30  Shaykh Farid al-Din Ganj-i-Shakar, quoted in Allana, 261–2. 31  Khaki Khurasani, quoted in Allana, 321–2. 27 28

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The prayer or recollection consists of rhythmic repetition, either out loud or silently—the superior dhikr of the heart—of God’s name, or a litany of God’s names or attributes sometimes aided by prayer beads. The Christian tradition has similar disciplines upon which Muslim-Christian understanding could develop, including the Eastern Orthodox Hesychast, the Prayer of the Heart: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Worshippers from both traditions anticipate an experience of God: “[A]n extinction of one’s own self-awareness and one’s living in and with the Divine.”32 Other elements have been added to the remembrance including music and song, devotional poems, and dance or sama‘ to induce ecstatic states among the participants. Perhaps the most widely known are the whirling dervishes of the order founded by Rumi who whirl in imitation of the universe and around their shaykh as the axis.33 The dhikr “sets the stage” and makes fana‘—or annihilation—available; however, for those not attaining this ultimate experience of the Divine, there is still a sense of transcendence for God is mediated by the entire ritual. For the hadra, or dhikr, meeting to be considered a success, the activities must bring positive change to the lives of the individuals involved, whether it be by an encounter with God, the discovery of a truth, the answer to a problem, or even through the pleasant interaction with fellow worshippers.34 Other benefits participants may receive include worship, confession, self-assessment, and a powerful social awareness. Hazrat Inayat Khan explains: “The heart closed to humanity means the heart closed to God.”35 32  Daniel J. Sahas, “The Art and Non-Art of Byzantine Polemics: Patterns of refutation in Byzantine Anti-Islamic Literature,” in Conversion and Continuity: Indigenous Christian Communities in Islamic Lands Eighth to Eighteenth Centuries, ed. Michael Gervers and Ramzi Jibran Bikhazi (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1990), 66–7. Hesychasm within the Eastern Orthodox tradition of Christianity is the “science of prayer.” Hesychasts claim their practice of the prayer of the heart dates back to Jesus as an uninterrupted oral tradition that was formalized between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries by Symeon the New Theologian. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, “The Prayer of the Heart in Hesychasm and Sufism,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 31(1986): 196. 33  John L.  Esposito, Islam: The Straight Path (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 108. 34  Ibid. Dhikr is unique in that it may be practiced anywhere and at any time without ritual purification. 35  Hazrat Inayat Khan, quoted in Safi, 220 (trans. Safi).

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The experience of transcending social awareness is an important aspect of the dhikr as it ties the phenomenon to the primordial event of the “Covenant of Alast” (“I am not”) when all people were united in the pre-­ existence. This “transhistorical” event, drawn from Sura 7:172, explains that, before creating the world, God called all future people into his presence from the loins of the not-yet-created-Adam and said to them: “Am I not your Lord?” The corporate response resounded: “Yes, we witness it.” With each experience of the dhikr the believer is reenacting his personal primordial testimony, reaffirming the covenant, and seeking to experience again the “Day of Alastu” when God was all that existed.36 From Creation by Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai (1689–1752): When ‘Be’ was not yet said, nor was there flesh-bone scheme or plan; When Adam had not yet received his form, was not yet man; Then my relationship began, my recognition too. ‘Am I not thy Lord?’ came a voice; a voice so sweet and clear; And I said: ‘Yes’ with all my heart when I this voice did I hear; And with a bond I did adhere that moment to my love. Ere God created souls, by saying, ‘Be,’ all one they were; Together were they—and behold my kinship started there— I still this recognition bear with thee, Beloved mine.37

The Polished Mirror of the Heart When the heart of the saint is purified by faith and religious sincerity, it becomes as a “polished mirror,” or void of any vision of the self and freed from any attachment to the world. In so doing, the lover has distinguished the true Beloved from all distractions, journeyed to the Beloved via a disciplined life with a spiritual guide, and at the end of the path eliminated everything, including self, so that all that remains is the Beloved Himself. Great scholar and poet Abdur-Rahman Jami (1414–1492) pens: Each speck of matter did He constitute A mirror, causing each one to reflect The beauty of His visage …. Beware! Say not, ‘He is all-beautiful. And we His lovers.’ Thou art but the glass,  Jamal, xxiv.  Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai, quoted in Jamal, 319 (trans. Elsa Kazi).

36 37

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And He the Face confronting it, which casts Its image on the mirror. He alone Is manifest, and thou in truth art hid. Pure Love, like Beauty, coming but from Him, Reveals itself in thee. If steadfastly Thou canst regard, thou wilt at length perceive He is the mirror also.38

This is the point at which explanation slips into bewilderment, for how does anyone express a transcendent encounter with the Divine or interpret another person’s unique experience of the ineffable? Such is the nature of much of the mystical literature of union with God. The mystic’s ego-self must be annihilated before rest may be found in God. As al-Junayd (d. 910) writes: “Sufism means that God makes you die to yourself and makes you alive in Him. It is to purify the heart from the recurrence of creaturely temptations, to say farewell to all natural inclinations.”39 Al-Ghazali adds: “[F]ana‘ from fana‘ is the goal of fana‘ … so engrossed in your beloved, that you perceive nothing else.”40 All is God. Abu Said ibn Abil-Khair, considered a saint perhaps more than a poet, was the first to “popularize the quatrain as a vehicle of religious, mystic, and philosophic thought” and the first to codify rules for tariqa initiates.41 He writes: Said I, ‘To whom belongs Thy beauty?’ He Replied, ‘Since I alone exist, to Me; Lover, Beloved and Love am I in one, Beauty and Mirror, and the Eyes which see?’42

The path presents a paradox—both a journey of ascent to the Throne and descent into the inner self resolved within the heart. Hadith qudsi clarifies: “He who knows his own soul knows his Lord.”43

 Abdur-Rahman Jami, quoted in Jamal (trans. E. G. Browne), 280–81.  Abu‘ l-Qasim B. M. al-Junayd, quoted in Smith, Readings, 34–6. Al-Junayd, one of the most famous Sufi teachers and leader of the Iraqi school of mysticism, wrote several books, including the Book of Annihilation. 40  Al-Ghazali, quoted in Smith, Readings, 61. 41  Jamal, 35. 42  Abu Said Ibn Abil-Khair, quoted in Jamal, 37 (trans. Dr. H. Ethé). 43  Safi, 28 The mystical life is founded on this statement from the traditions. 38 39

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Perhaps the most famous Islamic pronouncement of ecstatic union was by al-Hallaj, who exclaimed: “I am the Truth.”44 This extreme expression of the mystical “unity of Being” met with considerable opposition when first spoken. However, later Sufi scholars, employing the doctrine of “the divine covering of the human with divine attributes” as understood to occur in fana‘, explain that this was not a statement by the human speaker, but was indeed an utterance of the divine voice speaking through him.45 Here the Sufi poetic tradition helps to express symbolically the union of the lover with the Beloved in terms of bewilderment and love-madness for theological discourse is inadequate to express the ineffable. Rumi offers: You are: a copy of God’s scripture You are: mirror of that Regal beauty Whatever is in the world is not beyond you Seek it inside you Whatever you seek you are that.46

It seems that even the Sufi poet delights in ambiguity, employing images of agony and intoxication. For example, Umar Ibn al-Farid (1181–1235), reflecting on the primordial covenant, pens: “In memory of the Beloved we drank a wine; intoxicated we were with this wine before it was created.”47 Rabi‘a records: “I got intoxicated from the love of God last night. His love is making me tipsy.”48 Rumi writes: “The beauty of the Unseen Form is beyond description—borrow a thousand illuminated eyes—borrow!”49 Ibn ‛Arabi taught that “real poetry comes from the dancing of the soul.”50 Baba Bulleh Shah pens:  Jamal. 13.  Michael A. Sells, ed. Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Qur’an, Mi‘raj, Poetic and Theological Writings (New York: Paulist Press, 1996), 110. Louis Massignon, noted expert on Hallaj, disagrees with the charges of pantheistic “existential monism” raised against Hallaj, suggesting rather a “testimonial monism.” See Lois Massignon, Hallaj: Mystic and Martyr: Abridged edition, trans. and ed. Herbert Mason (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), xix, xxi. 46  Rumi quoted in Safi (trans. Omid Safi), 132. 47  Ibn al-Farid, quoted in Jamal (trans. Jamal), 90. 48  Rabi‘a quoted in Safi (trans. Safi), 144. 49  Rumi, quoted in Chittick, The Sufi Path of Love, 263. 50  Paul Smith, Ibn ‘Arabi: Selected Poems (Victoria, Australia: New Humanity Books, 2012), 23. 44 45

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He who has the Beloved in his heart, he is fulfilled with his Love. No need he has for formality; he just enjoys his ecstasy. He who is stricken by Love, Sings and dances out of tune.51

Rumi adds: Dance in the light of God It’s through God that all from earth to heaven is made lovely Every bit of dust dances in ecstasy Dance!52

David records in the Zabur, Psalm 30: 11–12: You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. 53

Conclusion The beautiful poetic language of Islamic mystical discourse speaks to hearts who long for an encounter with the Divine. Other factors—socio-­ political, psychological, and religious—have also contributed to the continued appeal of Sufism. Not only has it offered a direct experience of God without the mediation of clergy, it has provided many communities a satisfying socio-cultural pattern, vehicle for expression of environmental concerns, and even an avenue of protest against political tyranny. Fortifying its already strong emotional aspect, Sufism acquired an “eclectic propensity” to imbibe of the beliefs and practices of those people with whom it came into contact. This cultural openness allowed Sufism to become one of the most effective vehicles for the expansion of Islam. However, Sufism has not been without problems or critics.54 Sufi wisdom encompasses all of life, particularly the psychological aspect. Sufis have also historically championed the arts, for when following  Baba Bulleh Shah, quoted in Jamal (trans. Jamal), 304.  Rumi, quoted in Safi (trans. Safi), 112. 53  Psalm 30: 11–12, Holy Bible. 54  The ulama of “canonical Islam” took issue quite early with the notion of an infallible gnostic intuition. They also feared spiritual anarchy or antinomianism and the exploitation of naïve people latent in experiential religious expression. See Stephen Schwartz, The Other Islam: Sufism and the Road to Global Harmony (New York: Doubleday, 2008), 111–140. 51 52

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the Sufi path the seeker is sensitized to look for reflections of the beauty of the Supreme Artisan in all things. Interest in Sufism in general, and Sufi art in particular, is growing in the West, as is the interest in Sufi writing, especially Sufi poetry and the scholarly works of Ibn ‘Arabi, appreciated for its promotion of the concept of the “transcendent unity of all religions.” Sufi verse provides inspiration and is easily memorized and put to music—even contemporary rap! Ibn ‘Arabi’s most famous poem is quoted verbatim by new Sufi convert/rap star Abd Al Malik in his Ground Zero— Ode to Love55: Time was I would criticize my neighbor If his religion was not the same as mine/ But now my heart welcomes every form/it is a prairie for the gazelles/ a cloister for monks/a temple for idols/a Ka’ba for the pilgrim/ The tablets of the Torah and the book of the Qur’an/ I follow the religion of Love/Whatever direction taken by Love’s camel That’s my religion and my faith/Come on.56

Rumi offers: Surely there is a window from heart to heart: they are not separated and far from each other: Two earthenware lamps are not joined, but their light is mingled as it moves.57

This chapter reflects the author’s own experience. At an academic conference that leaned heavily on scripture exegesis, a young gentleman got to the podium and quietly, reverently read a Sufi poem—about a tree. The audience sat spellbound, then emerged to seek out the young man individually for conversation. The poetry had broken barriers and opened hearts—and then minds. Rumi offers: There is a way from your heart to mine and my heart knows it, Because it is clean and pure like water. When the water is still like a mirror it can behold the Moon.58  Brigaglia, 104 (French), 261 (English).  “GROUND ZERO Lyrics.” Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web.24 Oct. 2020. http://www.lyrics.com/lyric/27996426/Abd+Al+Malik. 57  Rumi, On the Heart, 111, 4391. 58  Maryam Mafi and Azima Melita Kolin, Rumi’s Little Book of the Heart (Charlottesville, VA: Hampton Roads Publishing Company: 2016), 39. 55 56

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We began and will conclude with verse from Sana’i, one of the first great Sufi teachers: Do not confuse the Image with the mirror, they are not the same; the mirror reflects the image by means of the light and the light cannot be separated from the Sun: if, then, the light is not reflected, the fault lies in the mirror. … Break loose from the chain with which you have fettered yourself, for you will be free when you have got clear of earthly fetters. Whatever increases the brightness of your heart, brings nearer God’s manifestation of Himself to you.59

Bibliography Allana, G., ed. A Rosary of Islamic Readings: 7th–20th Century. Karachi: National Publishing House Ltd., 1973. Al-Ghazali, The Marvels of the Heart: The revival of the religious Sciences. trans. Walter James Skellie. Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2010. Al-Sulami, Ibn al-Husayn. The Way of Sufi Chivalry, trans. Tosun Bayrak al-Jerrahi. Rochester, Vt.: Inner Tradition International, 1991. Chittick, William C., ed. The Sufi Path of Love: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi, ed. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983. Mafi, Maryam and Azima Melita Kolin. Rumi’s Little Book of the Heart. Charlottesville, VA: Hampton Roads Publishing Company: 2016. Mahmood, Jamal, ed. Islamic Mystical Poetry: Sufi Verse form the Mystics to Rumi. London: Penguin Books: 2009. Piraino, Francesco, and Mark Sedwick, eds. Global Sufism: Boundaries, Structures, and Politics. London: Hurst & Company, 2019. Safi, Omid, ed. and trans. Radical Love: Teachings from the Islamic Mystical Tradition. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018. Sells, Michael A., ed. Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Qur’an, Miraj, Poetic and Theological Writings. New York: Paulist Press, 1996. Smith, Margaret. Readings from the Mystics of Islam. London: Luzac & Co. Ltd., 1972. Smith, Paul. Ibn ‘Arabi: Selected Poems. Victoria, Australia: New Humanity Books, 2012.

59  Abu’l-Majdud ibn Adam Sana’i, quoted in Smith, Readings, 76. Sana’i’s most famous work is The Walled Garden of Truth.

CHAPTER 16

Eschatological Politics and Intellectual Jihad: Shaykh Ahmad ibn Idris’s Legacy in Europe Yahya Pallavicini

Eschatological Politics A prophetic tradition relates that Ibn Kathir (d. 1373), in his collection Al-Bidaya wa al-Nihaya (the beginning and the end), in the chapter regarding the precursory signs of the last hour and the hereafter, transmits the following warning of the Prophet Muhammad: The Last Hour will not come until you have seen these ten signs: the rising of the sun from the West, the Beast, the apparition of Gog and Magog, the manifestation of Jesus, the son of Mary, the Antichrist, three eclipses (one in the Orient, one in the Occident and one in Arabia), a fire that will spread from Yemen and will bring the populations to their gathering place, accompanying them night and day.

Al-Bukhari (d. 870) narrates another tradition in which the Prophet Muhammad turns to Abu Dharr while the sun is setting and asks him:

Y. Pallavicini (*) Milan, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_16

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“Do you know where it goes?” He said: “Allah and His Messenger know best.” He said: the sun goes and prostrates beneath the Throne, then it asks for permission (to rise), and permission is given to it. Soon the sun will prostrate, but it will not be accepted from it, he will ask permission (to take leave and return to his service to rise) but this permission will not be granted, and it will be said to him “Go back to where you came from” So (the sun) will rise from its place of setting, and that is what Allah refers to when he reveals: “and the sun runs [on course] toward its stopping point. That is the determination of the Exalted in Might, the Knowing.” (Qur’an, XXXVI:38)

Therefore, “the Hour will not begin until the sun rises from the place where it sets (maghribiha), its west.” (Muslim, Tirmidhi). According to the commentator Shams al-din al-Qurtubi (d. 1273), the teaching of wisdom in this tradition can be connected to another verse of the Qur’an when the Prophet Abraham turns to king Nimrod and says, “Lo! Allah cause the sun to rise in the East, so do thou cause it to come up from the West!” (Qur’an, II:256). Those who idolise the stars will never believe that such an overturning of the solar and polar cycle could ever happen as long as God does not show the power of His immeasurable will. The Muslim teachers are therefore in agreement in attributing the interpretation of this tradition and these verses to the signs of the last hour, to eschatology, to the end of the cycle of the current humanity. Someone can exploit the overturning of the sun’s place of origin with the awareness of the “power” of the West that provokes the death of the Orient and its metaphysical reach. The pride of the modern western man is dominant over religious faith by means of an exasperated individualism. Without wanting to erroneously associate the temporal power with the West and the spiritual authority with the East, the dynamic and cyclical symbolism of the sun must help us discern between regality and powers, divine majesty and religious teachings, esoteric mastery and the mysteries of faith. Sacred history recalls just kings like Melchisedek, the king of justice, in Arabic Maliku-Sidq, the king of truthfulness, who is also the king of Salem, the kingdom of peace who meets and blesses the Prophet Abraham. Unlike Nimrod, who represents decadence and stubbornness in exercising power as an end unto itself, Malki-Sadiq represents timeless spiritual regality along with the cycle of prophecy of the monotheism of the patriarch

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Abraham, and it expresses itself in different forms and ways with regard to the providential variety and succession of the community of believers. In fact, a similar correspondence of these opposite representations of power can also be found with the pharaoh and his obstinacy and decadence in practising the religion of the ancient Egyptians regarding the prophecy of Moses, who is comforted, according to the Islamic doctrine, in his search for metaphysical knowledge, by his meeting with the universal mastery of the Khidr before his vision and realisation of the promise. There might also be something analogous with the emperor Caesar and the decadence of the religion of the ancient Roman temples. In this case, there is an exception, because Jesus represents the unity of the two powers, the spiritual and temporal, and at the same time, represents the outer and inner mastery of divine omnipotence, being in Islamic doctrine both extraordinary prophet and authorised master of the renewal of the spiritual breath. Lastly, in Arabia, Muhammad was born, a sun considered to be the seal of prophecy of the one God, who had to win over the fierce opposition of the sovereign tribes of idolaters, pagans, unbelievers, and hypocrites among his family and foreign people. He also had to ally with the Zoroastrian, Sabean, Jewish, and Christian believers and protect those who contemplated in their monasteries, before governing the symbolic capital of the Muslim civilisation, honouring the pilgrimage to the sacred house and passing on to his companions temporal power and spiritual authority. Distinct hierarchical functions are found among the first dignitaries of the external caliphate, the scholars of the sacred law, and the ahl al-suffa, the “people of the bench,” who were some of the first initiates into the rule of the holy remembrance of Allah, at the origin of the brotherhoods of Islamic esotericism. It appears clear that the power of time, Persian (Chaldean), Egyptian, Roman, or Arab, tried to defend its own territory and government by the enslavement of its subjects; not recognising the spiritual, ritual, and civil renewal of the monotheistic message interpreted by the prophets. If some westerners know how to carry out this re-conversion to an eastern metaphysics, studying the traditional doctrines as the Orientals do, but without falling into coarse behaviour of an oriental-ish or artificially “arabesque” aesthetic, the community of Jewish, Christian, and Muslim believers of the West will benefit from it. At least this is a possibility and a healthy distinction, albeit a minor one, with regard to the reduction of religion to a social humanitarian doctrine or a humanistic ethics.

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Between the vulgarisation and manipulation of metaphysics, the search for sacred knowledge that is accompanied by the footholds and traditional supports of religion, of rigour and intellectual honesty, and of the contemplative vocation, can perhaps be preserved, thanks to the testimony of noble interpreters and representatives of the true monotheism, who know how to dialogue and collaborate in a brotherly way. They connect the challenges of contemporary society to useful intellectual tests that are valuable for a “change of mentality,” the purification of the soul, and the spiritual progress of one’s service and of His invocation. European Islam can remind its society of the celestial roots of man and the primordial and hierarchical order of his responsibilities of the heart, soul, and body; inheriting the function of the philosopher Diogenes in ancient Athens: that is to bring among people a lamp (Qur’an, XXIV:35) that can shed light and finally find an answer to the question: where is man? To this question, Islamic mysticism answers with the discipline of the universal man (al-insan al-kamil), a station of spiritual knowing that is not too far from that which Diogenes was truly searching for: “I am looking for an honest man, I’m looking for a man who, beyond all the exterior appearances, the norms, or the rules that are imposed by society, finding its genuine nature, lives in conformity with it and is, therefore, happy.” Monotheistic religious people must contribute to this continuity of mediation and transmission of an authentic sacred philosophical etymology in order to maintain an openness to the full, deeper, wider, and elevated sense of the religious experience.

Sacred Texts in Context One of the most important intellectual challenges for any religious community consists of conserving, passing on, and breathing new life into doctrinal heritage. The challenge becomes complex because it is necessary to remain faithful to the specific character of the religious root being represented and, at the same time, to seek an appropriate adaptation in interpretation of the doctrine in relation to the reference community and also in relation to society and the world. If the external context shows conscience and sensitivity regarding the heritage of the sacred in every civilisation and religious community, the effort to adapt finds support in favour of respect and dialogue. When, on the contrary, there is widespread ignorance about the authentic nature of religion and there is prejudice regarding certain confessional forms, the

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effort to adapt to the external context becomes difficult because cultural obstacles, psychological reserves, legal artifices, and political biases take over. In this case, some spiritual representatives and theologians choose to close themselves off from the external world, judging it inappropriate or impossible to deal with provocations and the degeneration of values, and concentrate their work on adapting the doctrine to the context internally, preserving their own identity from contamination and the corruption of society. This closing off often leads to an opposing counter-current of religious representatives who prefer to “reform” the community by adapting it to the times and scaling back the link with tradition. According to traditional Muslim teachers, the effort to adapt Islamic doctrine—which is rooted in the text of the Holy Qur’an and in the teachings (ahadith) of the Prophet Muhammad—to the context of society and the changing world can be undertaken by men and women who have the qualifications and authorisation to connect the eternity of revelation to the science of the moment, renewing the sacred communication and understanding of the doctrine in everyday life and in contexts spread throughout the world. This relationship between the universal doctrine of the Qur’an and the ahadith and the context of society has changed radically in history, from the government of Medina to the Abbasid Caliphate to the Ottoman Caliphate, to our postmodern era, and has seen different adaptations in Morocco or Indonesia, India, Italy, China, or elsewhere. According to the some Orientalists and Muslim reformists, for ten centuries the interpretation on the closing of the doors of the ijtihad prevails if we recognise in the work of the mujaddid Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 1111) the completion of the doctrinal elaboration that is integrated into the work of the great imams of the four main schools of law recognised in Sunni Islam: Abu Hanifa, Malik ibn Anas, al-Shafi’, and Ibn Hanbal. For about a thousand years now has there been no update in the international Muslim community regarding the interpretation of the sacred texts relating to social changes? Have Muslim scholars remained closed in themselves; are they extinct, did they never exist, or do we have to create them in a laboratory? Has the tradition of safeguarding the reading of the doctrine been frozen and confined only to acting rules, legal codes, and rigid control over the prohibitions of orthodoxy? Are all innovations always temptations?

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In order to avert this literalist and formalistic risk, scholars have taught us to analyse the crisis of the conformity of qualifications by Muslim believers and by the referents of the doctrine or the local Islamic government in a conscious way. In parallel, they have taught methods to cultivate trust in the constant renewal of the spiritual quality of revelation which regenerates hearts, souls, minds, and actions. The awareness of human decadence and trust in divine providence have thus inspired a quest for an intellectual reaction which, in every century, has enabled the Muslim community to have enlightened representatives able to breathe life back into the doctrine. At the same time, they discover new insights and revelations as a renewal of the holy presence of Allah. Commentators of the Holy Qur’an such as ‘Abd al-Razzaq al-Qashani in Persia (d. 1335), Jalal al-din al-Suyuti in Egypt (d. 1505), Ahmad Sirhindi in India (d. 1624), and Ahmad Ibn ‘Ajiba in Morocco (d. 1809) are some examples of this quest over the centuries and in various regions around the world. During this quest for a responsible interpretation of religious doctrine in historical and geographical contexts, Muslims are required to show they are serious in study, with integrity, a fair temperament, a vocation for intellectual tension, and the authorisation of a teacher who can check that the candidate is exercising sensitivity in reading the revelation and linking its implementation with the signs of the world in compliance with religious law. These are the qualities required of the imam or the sultan in the rulings of Abu al-Hassan al-Mawardi (d. 1058) and in practical jurisprudence (fiqh al-waqi’i) which is summarised as follows by Ibn al-Qayyim al-­ Jawziyyah (d. 1350): The jurist must certainly be able to understand people’s propensity for conspiracy, deception and fraud, in addition to their customs and traditions. Legal judgements (fatwa) change along with the times, places, customs and circumstances, and all this is part of the religion of Allah.

On a theological level, and as regards intellectual reflection on the sacred texts in the context that develops, the same rules apply to judges, preachers, administrators, and sovereigns: everyone must converge and contribute towards a higher harmony in the responsibility to service that is characterised, as Abd al-Wahhab al-Sha’rani (d .1565) taught, from the coordinated practice of humility and nobility. Thus, for centuries, the Islamic community has had the benefit of referents of the living tradition

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of the sacred texts in the spiritual guides, mujaddid imams, who renew access and usability to the symbolic and practical sense of the language, message, and maieutic of Allah. Traditional passing on (riwaya, isnad) of the teachings of the Prophet, handed down and narrated by his companions to the present day, represents a chain of loyalty and reliability over the centuries, which is the same method of reconnection that brings together teachers and disciples (silsila) in the contemplative brotherhoods of Islamic mysticism.

The Development of the Contemplative Ways of Islamic Mysticism Within this process of conservation, passing on, interpretation, and renewal of sacred texts, mystical traditions, spiritual teachers, and their schools, contemplative organisations and Islamic esotericism have contributed. A company of brothers and sisters who followed Prophet Muhammad in his religious function and spiritual mastery existed throughout his life, and figures such as the first four well-guided caliphs—Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali—along with the two grandsons of the prophet—Hasan and Husayn—were able to symbolise this heritage, putting into practice the tradition that says, “the scholars are the heirs of the prophets.” The wisdom of which they were heirs is, in fact, precisely the science of revelation in all its forms and with its repercussions in public life and in history. In accordance with faith in the science of unity, ‘ilm al-tawhid, the inner dimension, while distinct from the outer one, is inseparable from the religious, cultic, and legal perspective and is an active participant in managing the creation of Allah together with humanity. In the articulation of Islamic esotericism, there is no mystical monastic separation from public and interpersonal relations with the family and society. The history of the first centuries of Islamic civilisation saw ascetics travelling in the company of artisans and traders, offering training and political advice to the caliphate, preaching, writing, being excellent fathers and mothers of families. And yet all these responsibilities were carried out with a specific intention and focus—the knowledge of Allah—and were integrated within a discipline of study and in-depth analysis of verification and discussion within the community, of invocations, recitations, and works of praise to the Lord.

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In the first centuries of Islamic history, reference is made to saints such as Rabi’a al-Adawiyyah (d. 801), al-Bistami (d. 874), al-Tirmidhi (d. 892), al-Tustari (d. 896), and al-Hallaj (d. 922) who have spiritual characteristics similar to some mystics from the first centuries of Christianity, from the desert fathers to Dionysius the Areopagite. Their intense spirituality acts as a reminder of the decadence and abuse of religion, transformed from the way to God into an organised religious institution, as a caliphate and as a church. These Muslim mystics are living witnesses to the tradition of revelation and dissociated themselves from the Islamic government of a territory that would have extended from the Iberian Peninsula to Malaysia. These early mystics reacted to the disproportionate focus on temporal or secular suggestions, conditioning, and interests in the worldly context and defended the overriding dependence of believers on the purpose of life: the truth of Allah’s message. At a later stage, in Christianity, from St. Benedict (d. 547) and St. Bernard (d. 1153) to St. Dominic (d. 1221) and St. Francis (d. 1226), we witness the development of orders founded by teachers and saints gathering their companions and disciples in obedience to a rule. Similarly, in Islam, contemplative brotherhoods developed following the rule of a teacher such as sheikh ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166) or sheikh Abu al-­ Hasan al-Shadhili (d. 1258). While many Christian orders and Islamic brotherhoods featured study, conservation, and doctrinal analysis in common, the great difference in Islamic mysticism remained the lack of an organised monastic form of retreat into a reserved microcosm parallel to the outside world. Although the abandonment of individuality and detachment from the world is common in the contemplative vocation of Christian mystics and Muslim initiates, the members of Islamic brotherhoods continued their service and relationship in society, thus also helping to irradiate the seeds of a sacred philosophy that enabled people to feel revelation in their daily lives and to recognise correspondences in a natural way. The understanding of the sacred texts, in fact, takes place consciously through study and interpretation, but also in an unconscious way when the Muslim participates in understanding that reminds them of Allah without them having a premeditated intention. According to Imam al-­ Ghazali, the attendance of the companions of the way is fundamental in order to accompany and verify one’s intellectual openness and spiritual development, and the benefit of these relationships, both conscious and unaware, brings immeasurable benefits.

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It is on this basis that the contribution of Muslim brotherhoods and their members in the various fields of Muslim society has, for centuries, enabled the faithful to participate in the grace of the heirs of prophecy and to maintain a sensitivity for the sacred. This view of the flow of things is, according to the grammar of Islamic mysticism, the art of the visibility and invisibility of Allah, who is always present and varies His ways and the intensities of His involvement with His servants. It is precisely this generous circulation of communications on revelation that enables the members of the brotherhoods to not remain closed in on themselves and allows the community of believers to participate in these exchanges on the identity of faith. If we have understood the mysterious ways that the contemplative Muslim brotherhoods have made a positive contribution to renewing the vitality of the community’s relationship with revelation, we will now move on to a key to their management in relation to intellectual and social crises which risk cyclically compromising peaceful cohesion.

The Rule of the Sunna Muhammadiyyah In the work of sheikh Muhyi al-din Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240), the central role played by the Prophet Muhammad is fundamental. His cosmic role is that of the first intellect, at the origin of creation, from which everything derives. On this basis, Ibn ‘Arabi presents the juxtaposition with the haqiqa Muhammadiyyah, the Muhammadan reality, and connects this principle to the concept of the perfect human being, insan kamil. Al-Qashani describes insan kamil as the realisation of the divine in creation: the divine form corresponds to insan kamil, universal man who has verified the realities of the divine names. Elsewhere, al-Qashani describes insan kamil as the intermediate kingdom (barzakh) between the necessary and the possible, that is, between Allah and creation. These points play a key role in recognising inspirations and adaptations useful to the need for sensitivity and resistance during the history in the periods between teachers. In the two centuries between Junayd (d. 910) and al-Ghazali, these two teachers reread revelation both in the internal context of mysticism and in the external context of the caliphate. Their intention in public and traditional services was to prevent breaks, but also excesses or extravagant alternatives. The need to control some ecstatic impulses was accompanied by an analysis of the symbolism of Muhammad as a prophet and envoy, man and governor, servant, vicar, guarantor,

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fighter, and intercessor but also as a teacher, focal point, and archetype at the cosmological and metaphysical level, as uswa hasana. The memory and knowledge of Allah remain the purpose of the Muslim and of the seekers and travellers called to an integral vocation. What Abu Nasr al-Sarraj (d. 988), Qadi Iyad (d. 1149), Abu Madyan (d. 1197), Ibn Mashish (d. 1225), or Ibn ‘Arabi or Sharaf al-din al-Busiri (d. 1298) introduce is a devotion to the Prophet Muhammad as a key to penetrating revelation; as a support and guide for inner elevation and as protection in the world of external responsibilities. Qadi Iyad teaches that the model of the Prophet is a paradigm for religious acts and traditional behaviour: it is an example of the best condition of life, the most incisive and effective teaching and useful knowledge, and contains subtlety and dignity of character. Since these virtues belong only to the Prophet and cannot be extrapolated and replicated, the companions must focus on emulating his generosity, his determination, his courage, his good company, his righteousness, his justice, his spiritual retreat, and his consciousness of Allah. One of the expressions of grace that this process can foster in the disciple is access to dialogue on the invisible. A condition is created which corresponds to that of the elect on the conscience of Allah, and those who know the virtue of fear of Him (awliya’ Allah al-muttaqun). Reference to the Prophet has been meaningful from Abu Bakr al-Siddiq to Khadijah, Aisha, Fatimah, and ‘Ali, from Hasan al-Basri (d. 728) Dhu al-Nun al-Misri (d. 859), Junayd through to sheikh ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166) or sheikh Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili (d. 1258) when categories and structures must express a rule and a name. Islamic esotericism or tasawwuf describes and distinguishes a method of intellectual research and spiritual concentration within the orthodoxy of Islamic doctrine and civilisation. Curiously, during the Abbasid Caliphate, the closing of doors for interpreting the text of the Holy Qur’an coincides with the opening of organised structures in the form of schools and contemplative brotherhoods linked to a living teacher. This teacher is the representative of the mastery of the Prophet Muhammad, who initiated the rule and the covenant of reconnection with his companions. The term al-Tariqah al-Muhammadiyyah, Muhammad’s way of discipline, appears to have been taught by a Moroccan Sufi of Bedouin origin, ‘AbdAllah al-Ghazwani (d. 1528), one of the seven saints of Marrakesh. In

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his work, sheikh al-Ghazwani clarifies the categories of Muhammad’s Rule of Discipline (Madhhab al-Sunnah al-Muhammadiyyah) and methods for reconnecting with the archetype (Suluk al-Nazrah al-Azaliyyah). According to his symbolic interpretation, the key figure in the Muhammadan rule is al-Jaras, the Bell Saint, the Sufi teacher who is the axis of his time, he who can “feel” the revelations or reverberations of the divine archetypes within the limits of time. The ability of the bell-ringer saint to recognise the reverberations of revelation is based on the tradition of the prophetic inheritance (al-wiratha al-nabawiyyah) which presupposes the assimilation of the internal sunnah of the Prophet, his spiritual conscience. The character of the way, inherited from sheikh al-Ghazwani, who was the teacher of a Muslim brotherhood founded by sheikh Muhammad ibn Sulayman al-Jazuli (d. 1465), and which combines the teachings of the Qadiriyyah and Shadhiliyyah school traditions, is significant. Sheikh al-Jazuli had oriented the method based on the assimilation of the external and internal discipline of the Prophet Muhammad. Inspiring this rule were the teachings of sheikh al-Akbar and the influence of ‘Abd al-Karim al-Jili (d. 1402), author of the work titled Universal Man, al-­ Insan al-Kamil, with meditation on the form of the Prophet (al-surah al-Muhammadiyyah). With this insight into the Muhammadan image, al-­ Jili allows initiates who have reconnected through a covenant with the Prophet to the archetype of each image and to recognise themselves in the imprint of the model that is imprinted in every human form. Returning to sheikh al-Ghazwani, the Muslim mystic opens to the discovery of the primordial covenant. This oversees the covenant of call and modernises a secret of universal man, resulting in the assimilation of the Sunna. It includes both reflection on social reality and on the metaphysical principle. It is a traditional adaptation of revelation that offers testimony and an interpretation that integrates variations of external contingencies, linked to temporal power, regional jurisdiction, and political, economic, and social responsibility, especially in a period of crisis. The members of the esoteric current of the contemplative schools and of the brotherhoods of the Muhammadan Tariqat translate their spiritual and hierarchical obedience into sacrifice, acceptance, and combat, also in the various aspects of the external world, representing an offer of wisdom and unity for the constant intellectual renewal among peoples.

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An Enigmatic Teacher It is in this context that sheikh Ahmad ibn Idris (d. 1837) was born, educated, and trained. After studying in Fez at the University of al-Qarawiyyin with the teacher Abd al-Wahhab al-Tazi, he followed the example of some of his predecessors and travelled, moving from the West to the East, from his homeland to the spiritual centre of Mecca, passing through Algeria, Libya, and Egypt to as far away as Yemen, where he completed his teachings, even supporting debates with the jurists of the Wahhabi school. “His originality lay in his spiritual humility, in his unwillingness to institutionalize his spiritual status even among those who accepted it, in his obligation as a spiritual master to restate the truth, in his utter unworldliness.”1 Sheikh Ahmad ibn Idris was once asked what the miracles (karamat) of the way were. He replied: “it is Knowledge that Allah will make openings that will benefit brothers and sisters flow into the hearts of the disciples.”

Rule and Method: “With Every Beat and With Every Breath” Sheikh Ahmad ibn Idris called upon his students and disciples to recognise everything as directly related to the Prophet without intermediaries. For this reason, he called his rule al-Tariqa al-Muhammadiyyah, the Muhammadian way, because those who make the covenant have no other teacher than the Prophet himself, who is the one who takes care of spiritual needs. His disciple Muhammad al-Sanusi (d. 1859) recalled that the teacher called the Way “al-Muhammadiyyah” with reference to the Prophet and, in some circumstances, “al-Ahmadiyyah” referring to himself as the emissary of the interior interpretation of the spiritual pole. The main miracle of this is istiqama, righteousness and focus on following the covenant and staying constantly linked to its faithful fulfilment. Sheikh al-Sanusi taught that the rule adopted by the community of researchers linked to sheikh Ibn Idris was “the work of the hands and the work of the mind.” The development of this rule in Cyrenaica contributed to the spread of Islamic orthodoxy, to peace among peoples, to education 1  R.S. O’Fahey, Enigmatic Saint: Ahmad ibn Idris and the Idrisi Tradition (Northwestern University Press: Hurst & Company, 1990), 209.

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and to trade. Even the awareness of having to resist and fight against infiltrations and colonial invasions was integrated. It is said that on meeting the father of the young future emir ‘Abd al-Qadir of Algeria in Mecca, sheikh al-Sanusi foretold that he would become “a valiant defender of the sacred principles of Islam and able to interpret and elevate the authentic sense of jihad.” A nephew and a cousin of the Sanusiyyah teacher were protagonists, the former in guiding the brothers to react against the invasions of the French in Chad, the British in Egypt and Sudan, and the Italians in Libya, while the latter would go on to become King Idris I of Libya (d. 1983). As sheikh al-Samaluti taught: “Do not think that Allah’s friends live in a retreat in their rooms and flee from the people in the caves of the mountain. Allah’s sincere friends are those who live among the scorpions without ever being stung by one. They stay in the world and fight against the desires of the soul and fight individuals!” Among the people who listened to him in the al-Husayn mosque in Cairo, there was a young student who had arrived from Sudan and was plagued with disappointment at his first impressions of this city that he had dreamed was a spiritual centre capable of supporting his thirst: sheikh Salih al-Ja’fari (d. 1979). These words helped him to stay in Cairo and to study and live in a guest room in the western wing of the al-Azhar mosque, called the Maghreb, chosen in honour of the origins of the sheikh Ahmad ibn Idris and normally frequented by students coming from the West. Sheikh Salih al-Ja’fari would live and teach in this wing of the al-Azhar mosque for more than forty years, first as a resident student and then as a teacher and preacher. In his lectures and commentaries on the Qur’an—on the ahadith and the life of the prophet and on Islamic law and the teachings of the tasawwuf— sheikh Salih al-Ja’fari also integrated reactions to the corruption of knowledge and thought influenced by communist, reformist, or radical currents, such as the Salafi or the Wahhabi school. Sheikh al-Ja’fari also included responsible commitment to work activities as “the way of religion” and “the way of the first generations” in the method of Tariqa Muhammadiyyah: “whether they are farmers, traders, weavers, or artisans, the method would have intensified the blessings for their inner benefit and in the works they carry out.” It is no coincidence that in the development of spiritual centres linked to this method, schools, hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, and rooms for social and youth services arose alongside places of prayer and ritual meeting.

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Traditional Islamic Renewal in Europe The European Muslim minority that responds to this call assumes a responsibility of great value but also of great discipline. The Islamic civilisation and its doctrine teach us that in every era reformers, imam mujaddid, can be found who put into practice an effort of traditional adaption and mediation or retransmission of the readings of Allah. Closing the doors of ijtihad, or the hermeneutics of the text, creates a barrier to the ambitions of the false masters of Islamic law who could confuse and obscure traditional method and discipline, rendering both incomprehensible and inaccessible spiritual communication. This jihad ‘aqli, effort of intellectual penetration, was practised in schools and in spiritual centres where students and disciples were able to recognise masters of knowledge, and education was coherent regarding the truth of revelation and sensitive to the example of the Prophet Muhammad. It is this lived intellectual continuity where the affirmation of a passionate soul is limited and the vulgarisation of an outer action not accompanied by a contemplative intention can represent a source of inspiration. Unfortunately, a manipulation of religion has unleashed forces of hate and violence that seem to have been side-lined from the time of the closure of innovation during the Abbasid dynasty. These same powers falsify the authentic spiritual and cultural Islamic identity, rejecting religion and the sacred in general. To this distortion one must add the loss of conscience (traditional mentality and flexibility) and disposition to follow (adab) God in the modern West. In this context and with this awareness, the European Muslim minority must be able to serve the intellectual inheritance of Islamic civilisation according to the revelation and the teachings of the traditional schools and, at the same time, update the intellectual testimony of western philosophy on central themes such as the sacredness of life and the human soul. In this regard, a detail of the doctrine of the Wasatiyya, which takes its inspiration from Qur’anic verse, must be interpreted in Europe: “And it is thus that We appointed you to be the community of the middle way (wasat), so that you might be witnesses to all mankind and the Messenger might be a witness to you” (Quran II:143). Not only in the sense of “the virtuous middle way” that overcomes opposition and extremism, but also in the sense of mediation that must make prevalent the interpretation and testimony of the methods, languages, and contents of Islamic knowledge

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and Western wisdom. The hope is to favour a synthesis of orientation and inspiration for mediation and intellectual reflection useful for the development of human nature and its responsibility towards God and all creatures. The important consequence of this cultural convergence could have repercussions at a judicial level—but by studying synergies, on an ethical level, with European jurisprudence and the essence of Islamic law, maqasid al-shari’ah,2 and the various possibilities that are present in food, health, commerce, and finance. That which we must avoid in this representation of European Islam is the infiltration of speculators who, instead of working on the level of intercultural dialogue, act as self-referential or ideological thinkers of Islamist formalism. Our teachers teach us not only to connect the interpretation of the revelation to the context and respect the rules of the jurisdiction in which one is born or immigrated to but also to search for a more inspired application, fiqh al-waqi’i, according to the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. We can perhaps call this small number of European Muslims, western representatives of the Sunna Muhammadiyyah, a current of men and women from Morocco to Indonesia, from India to Spain, from Iran to Turkey, to renew and adapt the intelligence of the Islamic faith with a nobility and humility that recalls the qualities and virtues of the Prophet when he was guiding a small number of enlightened companions during his life.

Intellectual Jihad “Intellectual aridity,” Thomas Stearns Eliot wrote, is the sign of Europe’s intellectual decadence and the “crisis of the modern world.” René Guénon could perhaps benefit from a reawakening of the metaphysical dimension that comes from the East. If the hope of orientation, change, and the salvation of cultural study will be possible in the West, thanks to the involvement of a European Muslim minority, it is necessary to avoid feelings of success on behalf of the political and cultural institutions and the European population. The jihad ‘aqli cannot occur without an authentic jihad al-akbar, that is to say,

2  The right to life, to dignity of religion, freedom of conscience and intellectual testimony, the sacredness of the family, and property as a private and inherited good.

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a great effort that coincides with a jihad ‘ala al-nafs, a victory against the passions of the individual soul. Cultural success needs to be measured on a qualitative level with the opportunity for a significant and symbolic minority of believers in the One God and the last day (yawm al-din, al-yawm al-akhir) to interpret the logos, the word of truth, qawl al-Haqq. They must conserve and pass on the trust (al-amanah) of sacred science both as an orientation in exoteric doctrine and practice and as a way to access divine knowledge (al-‘ilm al-ladunni). The reference to the last day is not at all casual because it is dealing with the seed for a new generation of Muslims who will benefit from living in a context that is devoid of ignorance and forgetfulness, the true enemies of any religion and culture and the opponents of the first minority of Muslims in Mecca and current believers in Europe. This eschatological understanding represents an incentive to solicit a supra-individual protection in the function of a traditional link of populations to the brotherhood in the Nur Muhammadi, the primordial light of the prophecy, that gives Muslims and others, the personal reason for the vision and fulfilment of the history in the world.

The Role of a Minority of Muslim Believers for Peaceful Coexistence To promote this renewal of culture, there is a need for all religious communities, especially Christian and Muslim but also Jewish, to know how to express their faith identity, but also to mediate between the religions and traditions of the East and West with a perspective that respects the notion of unity within diversity. It is then necessary to know how to confront the context of decadence and crisis in the postmodern culture in Europe with regard to life and family values according to a sacred dimension of social responsibility. The intellectual aridity of the modern West is in part due to an exasperated search to construct an identity that breaks away from the riches of religious and cultural roots, expecting and demanding the invention of a dominant and sterile culture that is radically separated from spiritual and sacred dimensions, amended with a neutrality that can accommodate the tastes and instincts of all citizens.

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It is not a coincidence that fundamentalist currents are worryingly successful amongst young Europeans, who prefer the emotion of a violent excess to the emptiness of the values of modernity and technology. In this way two extremisms enter into a power struggle: on the one hand, the parody of emptiness and neutrality that risks being only an illusion of nothingness; on the other hand, the parody of excess and specificity that risks being a dangerous totalitarian and egotistic deviation. Words like metaphysics and absolute, primordiality and tradition, spirit and cosmology, harmony and honour appear to be archaic and far from the interests of the average European citizen. Yet they were terms dear to the ancient Greeks, as they were to the Church fathers and the Muslim sages. A perverse and violent contrast to the foundations of this so-called social emancipation, Europe has experienced the dramatic attacks of terrorists from the political left and right in the past century and, from the start of this millennium, of extremist fanatical groups who abuse Islam by using it as a cover and justification for their battle against a system of power. The authentic patrimony of every culture and religion is in danger of being made hostage to antireligious ideologies or hyper-manipulations and pseudo religious instrumentalization by new revolutionaries and guerrillas of the jihadist “brotherhood.” In between these two extremisms, the European Muslim minority must try to contribute towards defending and developing a social cohesion based on the culture of respect and not of radicalism, a culture that recognises the perversion of both antitradition and the fundamentalism which promotes an apologetic propaganda, devoid of both reason and coherence. This European Muslim minority must know how to bear witness to the symbolic and real meanings of the doctrines and teach how to apply the intelligence of the faith in the context of today’s society and system of governance. It is necessary to constitute a new balance of values and connect that which is absolute and that which is relative, transcendent and immanent, interior and exterior. To avoid discrimination, the Muslim European representatives, along with their Christian and Jewish brothers, have to work for an interdisciplinary cooperation between people who are responsible for and representative of all the sectors of society that know how to renew their identity and help the progress of a civilisation based on pluralism and universal values for the men and women of the world. European Muslims want to contribute to the renewal of the vision of a reality with no formalism and religious radicalism but rather with a wise

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approach to the relationship between faith and reason, religion and politics, tradition and modernity, dialogue and international relations. These are the necessary qualifications for a new generation of European Muslims who, with humility and incisiveness, take on the service of not only receiving a sacred, symbolic, and ritual perspective but also mediate between populations for an intercultural understanding and an interreligious collaboration. Themes like the environment, education, citizenship, health, or economy have been the object of studies by Muslim scholars, jurists, and commentators for centuries. It is only necessary to add and contextualise certain models and principles of development and present them for an intercultural discussion where the Islamic science returns to carry out an understanding of the lives of all people that is sensitive to the search for peace which remains the essence of the word Islam.

Bibliography Al-Kuhin, Muhammad b. Qasim and al-Kubra, Tabaqat al-Shadhiliyya. Biographies of Prominent Shadhilis: a Compendium of Lofty Miracles From the Lives of Shadhili Masters. Visions of Reality Press, 2016. Birgivi, Imam. The Path of Muhammad: A book on Islamic Morals & Ethics. Bloomington, IN: World Wisdom, 2005. Cornell, Vincent J. Realm of the Saint: Power and Authority in Moroccan Sufism. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1998. Dajani, Samer. Reassurance for the Seeker: A Biography and Translation of Salih al-­ Jafari’s al-Fawaid al-Ja fariyya, a Commentary on Forty Prophetic Traditions. Fons Vitae Publishing, 2013. bin Muhammad, Prince Ghazi. War and Peace in Islam: The Uses and Abuses of Jihad. Cambridge, U.J.: MABDA and the Islamic Texts Society, 2013. Gomaa, Sheikh Ali. Responding from the Tradition: One Hundred Contemporary Fatwas by the Grand Mufti of Egypt. Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2011. McGregor, Richard J. A. Sanctity and Mysticism in Medieval Egypt, The Wafa’ Sufi Order and the Legacy of Ibn ‘Arabi. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2004. O’Fahey, R.  S. Enigmatic Saint: Ahmad ibn Idris and the Idrisi Tradition. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1990. Pallavicini, Shaykh ‘Abd al-Wahid, A Sufi Master’s Message: In Memoriam René Guénon. Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2010.

CHAPTER 17

Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s On the Duties of Brotherhood as a Modern Guide for Peaceful Coexistence June-Ann Greeley

Abu Hamid Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Tusi al-Shafi’i al-Ghazali (1058–1111CE/AH 450–503) was an extraordinary scholar, philosopher, and spiritual teacher of Islam. Generations of Islamic scholars have regarded him as one of the greatest thinkers in Islam and, as such, have bestowed upon him the honorific Hujjat al-Islam, or “the proof of Islam,” meaning that he was himself “proof” of the righteous truth of Islam because of the excellence of his witness to the faith: the depth of his wisdom; the vibrancy of his spirituality; the creative integration of dogmatic with mystical strains of piety; and the breadth of his knowledge, including

J.-A. Greeley (*) Sacred Heart University, Fairfield, CT, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_17

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philosophy, law, and theology.1 In addition, in his own time, leading scholars in other faiths read and discussed his works, notably the medieval Jewish philosopher Moses Maimonides and the medieval scholastic and doctor of the Catholic Church Thomas Aquinas, so that some of his ideas found their way into the scholarly as well as spiritual discourse of medieval Judaism and Christianity. Al-Ghazali, however, is more than a historical figure or a religious scholar limited to a singular time and singular faith, for his ideas are still relevant today and resonate with all belief communities, as this essay will demonstrate with an analysis of his short treatise On the Duties of Brotherhood, Book 15, from the second quarter of his great work, The Revival of the Religious Sciences.2 The analysis will focus on the meaning of companionship and ethical behavior, which al-Ghazali described in the treatise as a devout Muslim for other Muslims, especially those who were/ are sympathetic toward his decidedly spiritual inclination toward Sufism. Yet the essay will also address the universality and timelessness of the work by correlating al-Ghazali’s discussion of fellowship and the ethics of care with similar ideas of modern spiritual teachers from a range of religious traditions.3 It is the effort of this chapter to demonstrate the relevance of al-Ghazali in contemporary culture through an examination of critical episodes in his life, ethical tenets, and spiritual teachings that, as the essay maintains, offer to modern audiences constructive guidelines for both individual and community healing, as well as creative resources for interfaith dialogue and peaceful coexistence among contemporary communities of believers. 1  al-Ghazali, On the Duties of Brotherhood (New York: Abrams Press, 1979), 17. See also W.  Montgomery Watt, trans., The Faith and Practice of al-Ghazali (Oxford: Oneworld, 1994), 13. 2  The centrality of the work in the spiritual life of Islam cannot be minimized: see S. H. Nasr and J.  Matini, “Persian Literature,” ch. 17  in Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations, ed. by Seyyed Hossein Nasr (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 1997), 334–335. For a ready online version of the complete work, see https://www.ghazali.org/rrs-ovr/. 3  It should be noted that, although not germane to this essay, modern scholarship in disciplines as far-ranging from theology as business and political science also claim the work of al-Ghazali, demonstrating that his thought and his insights have transcended time and cultures. For example, on al-Ghazali and his range of influence on business, see Yusuf Sidani and Akram al Ariss, “New Conceptual Foundations for Islamic Business Ethics: The Contributions of Abu-Hamid al-Ghazali,” in Journal of Business Ethics, vol. 129, no. 4, Special Issue on Globalization, Development and Islamic Business Ethics (July 2015), 847–857. On al-­ Ghazali and his influence on political theory, see Anthony Black, “Al-Ghazali: Mysticism and Politics,” ch. 9  in The History of Islamic Political Thought: From the Prophet to the Present (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011), 97–110.

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Briefly, on al-Ghazali: A Life Formed by Spirituality Al-Ghazali was born in the town of Tabaran in Tus, in northeast Persia, in 450 A.H. (1058 CE), and although he lost his father when still young, family members made sure that he and his brother (Ahmad, also to become an eminent Sufi teacher) received a sound education. As a result of that resolve, and because of his own brilliance, al-Ghazali excelled at his studies so considerably that he eventually became a student of the most important Ash‘arite theologian and jurist of that time, al-Juwaynî, in Nishapur.4 Upon the death of his teacher in 477 A.H.(1085  CE), al-Ghazali left Nishapur and embarked on a personal journey of discovery, traveling first to Isfahan and then to Baghdad where, by 483 A.H. (1091 CE), the chief Seljuk vizier Nizam al-Mulk had secured for him a teaching position at the Nizamiyya madrasa.5 That was quite an honor and al-Ghazali excelled: he soon became known as one of the most gifted teachers and scholars at the school. Yet, increasingly, al-Ghazali became restless in his heart and doubts about his present circumstance began to vex his increasing sense of contentment. Although he was a lauded instructor and a luminous theologian, he was also deeply committed to his faith and to the spiritual path of devotion, and so he soon sensed a conflict between the way of the mind in the world and the way of the soul beyond the world. In his autobiography, Deliverance from Error, he explained that, within a few years after he had assumed the university position, it had already become clear to me that I had no hope of the bliss of the world to come, save through a God-fearing life and the withdrawal of myself from vain desire … the key to all this was to sever the attachment of the heart to worldly things … and to advance towards God most high with all earnestness … this was only to be achieved by turning away from wealth and position … and (I) realized that … (teaching and lecturing) … were unimportant and contributed nothing to the attainment of eternal life.6

4   For a more complete biography, see online https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/al-­ ghazali/, Also, for all things al-Ghazali (including an excellent and vetted bibliography of primary sources in original languages), see https://www.ghazali.org/. 5  See Watt, 9. 6  al-Ghazali, Deliverance from Error, trans. by W.  Montgomery Watt (Malaysia: Islamic Book Trust, 2019), 58–59.

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As a student of the Ash‘arite school, al-Ghazali did not consider theology to be simply a binary system of thought lingering on the edges of two extremes, either absolute rationalism or complete revelation; instead, he adhered to a more moderate, intermediate way that could encompass both approaches to faithful witness: the more philosophical argumentation of dogmatic theology and the more affective personalism of revelatory spirituality.7 From his own testimony, al-Ghazali did attempt to incorporate both forms of religious witness into his daily life while he was teaching, but he soon came to believe that his attachment to things of the material world, including fame and the accomplishments of his academic life, was overwhelming his pious devotion and instilling in him a vanity and worldliness that obstructed his steady “advancement” toward God, the essential reason for human existence on earth. Life spent in the world and of the world, while of itself not inherently malevolent, will not provide the appropriate space for an individual to realize the truth of the Transcendent, the awesome reality of God: there is just too much to distract spiritual focus. Yet, without God, there can be no peace and no meaning to life because there is no reality apart from God. In fact, al-Ghazali reported that he became so emotionally conflicted during those years as a university instructor that by his fourth year of teaching, in 488 A. H. (1095 CE), he lost the ability to speak and became unable to eat or drink: I was continuously tossed about between the attractions of worldly desires and the impulses towards eternal life. … God caused my tongue to dry up so that I was prevented from lecturing. … This impediment in my speech produced grief in my heart, and at the same time my power to digest and assimilate food and drink was impaired; I could hardly swallow soup or digest a single mouthful of food … the doctors gave up all hope of successful treatment. ‘This trouble arises from the heart,’ they said.8

7  On Ash‘arism, see Oliver Leaman, “The Developed Kalam Tradition,” ch. 4 in Classical Islamic Theology, ed. by Tim Winter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 80–85, passim. See also S. H. Nasr, “Theology, Philosophy, and Spirituality,” ch. 22 in Nasr, Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations, (New York: Crossroads Publishing, 1997), 400–402; Aaron Spevack, “Introduction,” in Ghazali on the Principles of Islamic Spirituality (Woodstock, VT: Skylight Paths Publishing, 2012), xvi–xvii. 8  Watt, 60.

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So severe was the tension between the gratification al-Ghazali felt from his worldly pursuits and the desire he felt for a more meaningful spiritual life that his own body soon manifested this conflict and he found himself literally stymied. He became unable to speak when his voice became “trapped” within him and he was unable to eat or drink as his body seemed “trapped” in itself, unwilling—or unable—to accept earthly sustenance: it was as if his body compelled itself to starve for food just as his soul had been starving for holy nourishment. Even the doctors recognized that the cause of his “illness” was spiritual, not physical, a matter of the heart and not the mind: al-Ghazali also realized that and in his effort to respond freely to his own truth, he found himself “impaired” and fixed in his silent anguish. Al-Ghazali knew that the heart is the spiritual center of each individual and, as such, the true “powerhouse” of human identity, and unless he were able to heed the signs of his body, he would never be able to claim his full identity and so he would never be able to experience the true presence of God. The gravity of his situation convinced al-Ghazali that he must direct his life toward a different path and so, inspired, at least partially, by his study of Sufism, the mystical dimension of Islam, he decided to leave not only the university, but his family, and then Baghdad itself, and set out on a religious quest. His decision caused him no concern for, as he would later write, he came to understand that his actions were not completely of his own doing but were in response to the will of God, “the upsetter of hearts and positions.”9 In that respect, then, it is evident that al-Ghazali regarded as a devout obligation of devotion what others might perceive as a “radical” pursuit. In his spiritual autobiography, al-Ghazali recorded that on his spiritual quest he first went to Damascus, with no other occupation than the cultivation of retirement and solitude, together with religious and ascetic exercises, as I busied myself purifying my soul … and cleansing my heart for the constant recollection of God most high, as I had learned from my study of mysticism.10

Al-Ghazali felt the need for a spiritual purgation, a kind of decontamination of his soul and his mind from his worldly and intellectual compulsions, and so in Damascus he remained alone in the Great Mosque for 9

 Ibid., 82.  Ibid., 62.

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days, fixated on prayer and recollection. He then left Syria and continued his journey to Jerusalem where again he entered a holy place, the Dome of the Rock, and remained in solitary quietude, abstaining from all interaction with others in order to focus prayerful remembrance (dhikr) of God and to engage in Sufi practices and exercises such as contemplation (muraqaba).11 Only after his reverent period of reflection, prayer, discernment, and remembrance did he decide to undertake the great Hajj to Mecca “to gain the blessings of Mecca and Medina.”12 It was during this period of spiritual restoration that al-Ghazali began his great opus, The Revival of the Religious Sciences (Ihyâ’ ‘ulûm al-dîn). Al-Ghazali might have continued on his solitary spiritual path had it not been for the entreaties of his family, especially his children, to return to them, which he did, first to Baghdad and eventually back to Tus, where he remained for about a decade.13 He was of course not able to devote himself entirely to his mystical endeavor since his family obligations claimed much of his attention. On his return to Tus, al-Ghazali did resume some private tutoring and established a school and Sufi lodge (khanqah) with the idea of promulgating his fervent belief that the devout path of the spiritual teachers must enrich and expand the rationalism and legalism in theology. In fact, in 498 A. H. (1106 CE) al-Ghazali returned to Nishapur to teach publicly in the madrasa because, as he wrote, I believed it was permissible for me in the sight of God to continue in retirement … but God most high determined … to stir up the impulse of the sovereign at the time … (who) gave me strict orders to hasten to Nishapur to tackle the problem of lukewarmness in religious matters … (to call) men to the knowledge whereby worldly success is given up and its low position in the scale of real worth is recognized … it is my earnest longing that I may make myself and others better.14

It is worth noting that al-Ghazali again interpreted his mandate to revive his role as a public teacher as more than the simple command of the vizier: as he states, he perceived agency in the act of “the sovereign” to convince al-Ghazali to return to Nishapur in order “to tackle the problem” in the religious community. Yet, the problem was not simply a matter  Ibid.  Ibid. 13  Ibid., 62–63. 14  Ibid., 80, 82. 11 12

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of unfaithfulness or misapplied theology; rather, al-Ghazali was called to address that most tenacious of problems in any belief system, a cynical disinterest or lukewarm attitude about the faith and its teachings. He understood—as have so many other spiritual teachers in all faiths—that perfunctory adherence to religious teachings or a religious faith that lacks the experience of intimate relationship can become a faith that cannot sustain itself. Apathy can be as injurious to a religion as any heretical tenet because it drains the vitality of truth and authenticity from the doctrinal practice and engenders religious lethargy and a spiritual skepticism among the faithful who become more convicted of the value of their encompassing secular cultures. Thus, al-Ghazali went to Nishapur to share his enlightened understanding with the community of believers whose faith he hoped to make stronger and more integral in their daily lives. His intent was to emphasize an engaged and active path of devotion that included adherence to the teachings and laws of Islam enriched by spiritual practices such as interior devotion in prayer, remembrance and contemplation, and a moral “cleansing” from the values of the prevalent cultural ethos by a discernment of the truly virtuous life in privileging honesty, sincerity, and humility. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali died in Tus in 505 AH (1111 CE).15 His tomb was not officially designated until 1995 and is still the focus of archeological exploration and study.

On the Duties of Brotherhood Al-Ghazali was of course a Muslim whose primary intention was to address and instruct other Muslims. As the title of his great work, The Revival of the Religious Sciences, suggests, his project was to revive the spiritual life of the community of the faithful as well as to argue for an intensified program of faith that would combine doctrine and revelation in the religious study of Islam.16 With his work he sought to persuade his readers to examine the sincerity and depth of their lives as Muslims, both the exterior life of ­devotional practice and daily behavior, and the inner life of belief and 15  A most touching yet profusely documented account of a contemporary pilgrim seeking and finding al-Ghazali’s tomb in Tus can be found at https://www.sacredfootsteps. org/2018/10/03/searching-for-the-tomb-of-imam-ghazali-the-personal-journey-of-alost-pilgrim/. It is well worth the time to read. 16  See Toby Mayer, “Theology and Sufism,” ch. 13 in Classical Islamic Theology, 272.

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spiritual illumination. As a scholar, he was well-versed in the Qur’an, hadith, and other foundational resources of Islamic truth, and he liberally incorporated all such references in his opus; as a spiritual seeker and Sufi practitioner, he was also intimately aware of the spiritual and pious guidance of the mystical way and sought to animate the more codified approach to religion with the emotional commitment and experiential investment of the mystical path. Contrary to the notion that the mystical path leads its travelers away from the world and care for others, most mystics demonstrate a profound benevolence for others in their common practice and prayerful understanding. The conscious path of the mystic is noted for the gradual diminishment of the ego as the mystic seeks communion with the Transcendent, the reason and telos of all existence. As such, the mystic becomes deeply aware that the personal self is no more worthy or more authentic than any other personal self before the Divine and that such identity compels generosity and care for others. The diminution of the self eliminates those metaphysical barriers that the ego constructs and that irrevocably separates one self from another, and the mystic perceives a kinship with all others, observes a communion of souls in peace and harmony. While al-Ghazali, like so many others on the mystical path, eventually lost his love for material goods and popular values of the physical world, he never lost his love for the world of people, as his later career as a teacher and mentor demonstrated. The section “On the Duties of Brotherhood” is from the second quarter of the larger work, which is particularly dedicated to living out the faith in the world and with others; therefore, it seems reasonable to assume that, in crafting his treatise and its title, al-Ghazali was thinking of the full range of Muslim brotherhood as well as the notion of brotherhood derived from Sufism.17 It is vital to affirm that the following examination of the treatise accepts all that. Nevertheless, it does seem that, as an authentic spiritual teacher inspired particularly by his Sufi instruction, al-Ghazali is a teacher and spiritual guide for all ages and all faith traditions and it is worth noting that a range of Catholic scholars and theologians read al-­ Ghazali even in his own historical era.18 This essay asserts that his treatise 17  Jean-Louis Michon, “The Spiritual Practices of Sufism,” ch. 14 in Islamic Spirituality: Foundations, 273–274. 18  Although there is not space in this brief essay to delve into al-Ghazali’s prominence in medieval and early modern Catholic philosophy and theology (when his name was Anglicized to “Algazel”), an excellent resource is Anthony H. Minnema, “The Latin Readers of Algazel, 1150–1600,” Ph.D. diss., University of Tennessee, 2013. https://trace.tennessee.edu/ utk_graddiss/2602.

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can be a worthy guide for anyone in the present era who suffers from the disruption, seemingly everywhere, of division and hostility and who languishes with open wounds of violence and anger and, sadly, a very real absence of a commitment to “brotherhood.” Al-Ghazali offers spiritual wisdom as a guiding truth to all who are willing to practice the “deep listening” and “deep looking” of the heart and soul. From the opening paragraph of On the Duties of Brotherhood, al-Ghazali makes clears that any allusion to “brotherhood” or any assertion of bonded affinity with another is most rightly understood to be a contractual obligation, a sanctioned commitment. He begins the treatise with that clarification: Know that the contract of brotherhood is a bond between two persons … the contract of brotherhood confer(s) upon your brother a certain right touching your property, your person, your tongue and your heart—by way of forgiveness, prayer, sincerity, loyalty, relief and considerateness.19

The language of “contract” is an important one and should be appreciated in the context of the teaching of the code of sharia, the core of Islamic jurisprudence. Combining the divine revelations of the Holy Qur’an and the teachings of the Sunnah, the spiritual and worldly wisdom of the Prophet, sharia constitutes “the main guidelines for spiritual as well as temporal Muslim conduct in this life as a preparation for the hereafter.” So that contract law in Islamic communities is based on that understanding that daily comportment of business, for example, has relevance for life beyond mortal existence.20 In defining “brotherhood” as a contractual bond, al-Ghazali alludes to sharia teaching that inveighs particularly against riba, specifically the practice of usury, or making interest on financial possession at the expense of another, but in general, the unlawful gain of one over another by putting the other at an unfair disadvantage, and gharar, the intentional exploitation or manipulation of the weak or defenseless by the strong or authoritative.21 While much of sharia directives are, admittedly, about property and commercial transactions, the underlying values of those concepts can be and have been applied to a  Holland, 21. All citations taken from Holland translation.  Noor Mohammed, “Principles of Islamic Contract Law,” Journal of Law and Religion, vol. 6, no. 1 (1988), 115. 21  Ibid., 118–121. See also Hussein Hassan, “Contracts in Islamic Law: The Principles of Commutative Justice and Liberality,” Journal of Islamic Studies, vol. 13, no. 3 (Sept. 2002), 259–261. 19 20

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range of conventional pursuits and ordinary relationships. To exist in relation to another is conceptually akin to existing in a kind of contractual relationship, that is, being bound to engage the “other” with fairness, justice, generosity, and candor, as well as with a willingness not to indulge too expressly for personal want or excessive gain. As al-Ghazali declares in his opening statement, the “contract” of brotherhood obliges one to vouchsafe to the other certain basic rights and entitlements that inform a relationship that is mutually binding, fair, just, non-exploitative, and considerate of the needs and circumstances of the other in all respects: materially, emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually. It is inspiring that al-Ghazali initiated his teaching with the unmistakable claim that the spiritual path obliges the individual to place the needs and concerns of the other before his own and to substitute personal desire with the good of the other. Al-Ghazali came to recognize that while silent prayer and solitary contemplation constitute one dimension of devotion for the spiritual journey to be authentic, it cannot be autonomous and impartial: it must allow for the companionship of others in order for the individual to transcend from the self, and rationalization of the mind to movements of compassion and mercy within the heart as well. Indeed, a central teaching of al-Ghazali’s treatise is that actual spiritual growth— that is, true movement toward God—cannot be limited to the singular pursuit of an individual, alone with his holy thoughts; rather, faithful progress toward the Almighty must involve not only interior assent and understanding but also a consistent praxis, a continuous expression of virtuous behavior and moral perspicacity in daily life within the community. Admittedly, the spiritual journey then becomes a meticulous balancing act between the inner life and visible comportment, each informing the other, and al-Ghazali’s own life bears witness to the difficulty of sustaining that balance. Still, al-Ghazali declares that a kind of “holiness” is present when one actively encounters the other in selfless brotherhood, that is, a dynamic commitment to the other that transcends the mediations of conventional relationships. He teaches that your brother’s need ought to be like your own, or even more important than your own … you should see that he does not have to ask, nor to reveal his need to appeal for help … you should not see yourself as having earned any right by virtue of what you have done, but rather count it a blessing that he accepts your effort on his behalf.22  Holland, 32.

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Al-Ghazali argues that genuine brotherhood can only be achieved when one is so aware of the presence of the other that one freely effaces personal self-interest and commits to the other even before help can be solicited. That final point is a foundational principle of al-Ghazali’s instruction because it asserts that behavior cannot be identified as “virtuous” if it is just a suitable reaction to a circumstantial condition or a calculated response to an immediate situation; rather, true virtue emerges from within the individual and manifests holy wisdom, a gracious perception of the world especially in relationship with others, that has been internalized. Al-Ghazali teaches that to initiate action within a relationship is to model, constrained by human imperfection, the beneficent mercy of God and to demonstrate a hallowed affiliation of two hearts, two souls. Of course, that teaching does exact more from the individual than is perhaps conventionally accepted, especially in contemporary culture. In another section of the treatise he takes to task the code of simple parity, mutual benefit, as the standard for ethical behavior and asserts that “the lowest degree in brotherhood is where you treat your brother as you would wish to be treated yourself.”23 That is a startling declaration (given modern fixation on the “golden rule”) yet very true. There is nothing particularly virtuous in treating another person in a manner that will be similarly reciprocated because the guiding principles of such behavior are self-protection and self-interest, not concern for the other. If, as al-Ghazali has posited, human relationships (brotherhood) are meant to be experienced as holy encounters that can also be transformative, then the reduction of human relationships to a transactional encounter is to misconstrue altogether the concept of fraternal holiness—and virtue. A later Persian Sufi shaykh, Ruzbihan Baqli (522–606 A.  H./1128–1209  CE), taught that brotherhood (“companionship”) is the pure crucible of the goldsmith of the soul … the way-station of the purification of secrets … the place where the suns of illumination rise … the wind of holy fragrance … the trace of God, for it is the representative of God to his creation.24

The experience of companionship that Ruzbihan Baqli describes is actually the unique bond of brotherhood within a Sufi community, which  Holland, 40.  Ruzbihan Baqli, “The Errors of Wayfarers,” in Teachings of Sufism, ed. by Carl W. Ernst (Boston and London: Shambala, 1999), 128–130. 23 24

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he depicts as “crucible” of fraternal intimacy and the locus of spiritual joy. However, his words are wondrous to contemplate in a more general sense because a more expansive application of his understanding of human relationships—that is, to regard all human relations as “holy” and as potential occasions of illumination and, especially, as representative of the bond that exists between God and creation—would surely be contributory to world healing even today. When al-Ghazali taught that every person should follow the example set by Muhammad and “prefer (a) brother to (one)self and set his need before (one’s) own,”25 he was advocating that a condition of “spiritual love,” expressed as profound compassion for another, should be the preferred telos of human relations. Indeed, the allusion (as well as direct reference) to compassion runs like a golden thread through much of the treatise: compassion is at the center of his ethical teaching despite the fact that its realization can be challenging. To live and act with authentic compassion requires tenacious resolution and constant diligence, a relinquishment of individual desire and a cultivation of patience and disinterest. Authentic compassion requires the transfer of identity from the self to the other, or at a profound and intimate fellow-feeling. Al-Ghazali makes clear that compassion abides as a disposition of empathy that must underlie all actions and so he underscored the significance of the “Inner” in the life of an individual and insisted on its crucial influence. He wrote that it is the moral strength of an individual that shepherds the spiritual journey, and if an individual saturates the “Inner” with negative feelings such as envy and loathing, he has his Inner full of dirt, … (he) conceals it and does not show it … and the Inner sweats with its hidden dirt. Whenever the Inner is wrapped up with rancor and envy it is better to break off relation. … if a man carries in his heart a bad feeling toward another Muslim, then his belief is weak, his affair is risky, and his heart is dirty and unfit to meet God.26

As al-Ghazali insists, if an individual harbors ill feeling and resentment toward another, even if he does not express such malice openly, he will not be able to engage another with authentic compassion—the spirit of genuine brotherhood—and so should “break off relations” rather than persist in deceit. Arrogant contempt instigates deception and a heart befouled by  Holland, 22. Al-Ghazali also speaks of compassion elsewhere, 73.  Holland, 41.

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malevolence can never experience the “meeting” with God since it is a heart closed to the hearts of others. Again, while al-Ghazali was addressing directly the Muslim brotherhood, his teaching is truly universal: can a genuinely peaceful coexistence ever be achieved without compassion? The indictment of a “dirty heart” is startling but it clarifies a fundamental aspect of true brotherhood, according to al-Ghazali: sincerity, honesty in all situations. Above all other relational failings, al-Ghazali scorned hypocrisy (the “dirty heart”) and he emphasized that proper behaviors or pious actions cannot camouflage a selfish, unforgiving soul of any religious tradition, just as heartfelt empathy gives evidence of an unsullied heart, again, of any religious tradition. So insistent was he on that point that in the same section of the exposition on “the Inner,” he cited a brief anecdote about a Jewish interlocutor who had expressed the values of sincerity and tolerance for “his Muslim brother” as an example of compassionate comportment and as verification of his teaching on acceptance.27 Al-Ghazali was concerned with the internal condition of human beings, not their external presentation, and while he of course intended his works for the Muslim community, he really did not tarry over labels or profiles: the heart was the focus of his study and, as he taught, the heart knows no religion or title or historical affiliation. Such a perspective might be obvious today but it was rather exceptional in its own time. It is not surprising, then, that al-Ghazali deemed the virtue of forgiveness (an aspect of compassion) as a critical component for ethical brotherhood. He insisted that forgiveness was obligatory for maintaining the bonds of brotherhood and should one allow those fraternal bonds to be strained (if not actually broken) because of a refusal to forgive a slight, an insult, or a failing on the part of the other, one is actually indulging evil and abetting Satan. Al-Ghazali taught that causing separation between loved ones is one of the things dear to Satan … separation from dear ones and brethren (is) to be avoided … there is no disagreement on the proper course being forgiveness and patience … you should seek seventy excuses for your brother’s misdeed, and if your heart will accept none of them you should turn the blame upon yourself.28 27  Ibid. It should be noted that there are other portions of the treatise in which al-Ghazali includes stories and anecdotes from the Jewish and Christian traditions to support his teachings and, one suspects, to imply the value of interfaith dialogue or, at least, the value of finding places of similarity and not just discord in interfaith relations. See in Holland’s translation comments on 40; 62–63. 28  Holland, 66–67.

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Like other spiritual masters, al-Ghazali asked his adherents to transcend their most human (read: egoistic) inclinations and strive to achieve not simply self-satisfaction but a more elevated and virtuous connection to others. To be fair, al-Ghazali recognized that he was establishing a challenging standard: he admitted that the duties of fellowship are “onerous” and “not to be borne except by one of true worth” presenting Muhammad, of course, as the perfect model.29 He hoped for a world in which individuals are commonly willing to seek “seventy excuses” for the misdeeds of others and desire not division and discord but rather social unity and community cohesion, even at the expense of personal pride. That social cohesion can be achieved but at the price of the individual will: al-Ghazali admonished his audience that if establishing and maintaining genuine relations were to fail, each individual must look first at his own heart, his own intentions, and accept that responsibility for creating a space of care and forgiveness. The judgment an individual is all too eager to cast upon another must be, al-Ghazali instructs, cast upon himself. Forgiveness is an active process of generous sympathy but also of exigent accountability, if not actual self-transformation: it requires determination and a ready patience to disregard personal suffering in order to sustain the “covenant” or perpetual bond that connects all people together, as sons and daughters of God. Moreover, apart from any emotional hesitation to ignore insult or injury, an individual can find it challenging to act upon the call to forgiveness when the surrounding general culture might not privilege those virtues of mercy and humility. Authentic forgiveness requires a degree of forbearance and courage to be unconventionally self-aware. The call to forgiveness is always a call to the heart, to the inner state of a human being. The great spiritual teachers understand that a thriving community—heartfelt brotherhood—will never be firmly and fully realized until there is a correspondence between the “inner” and the “outer” being in each person so that each individual can engage with the other in honesty and compassion. So also, the full realization of an individual will never be realized until there is not simply correlation between the “inner” and the “outer” condition of an individual, but the “inner” directs and guides the simple acts of “outer” daily life. Al-Ghazali concluded his treatise with a reminder of his guiding principle that the

 Holland, 53.

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manners of the Outer are only the title-page of the Inner and of Purity of Heart. When hearts are purified there is no need of formality (codified behaviors) to display their content.30

From the experience of his own spiritual journey and his deep contemplation of holy truth emerging from the sacred texts, al-Ghazali understood that the true nature of every human being lies in the “Inner,” in the heart, and it is the heart, and not the hand, or the foot, or any part of the body, that is the guide in the journey to God, in this world and in the life to come.

A Final Thought At a time when the world seems on the brink of fracturing into multiple, defensive divisions and many groups seem unable—or unwilling—to address that brokenness with any degree of tolerance or depth, it seems a reasonable proposition to reach back into history for possible guidance, even for potential solutions, to create a global space of peace and authentic coexistence. That guidance can take many forms, not the least of which is spiritual guidance, even though contemporary discourse often accuses religion—unfairly—as the culprit in social, political, and personal disaffection. Within every religion there have been and are spiritual teachers who can be a rich source for reflection and inspiration since they have been able to transcend the synthetic borders that history and politics have erected and that all too often have separated and continue to divide people and communities, one from another. Such spiritual leaders, while adhering to their chosen faith traditions, share wisdom that need not be confined only to a single group of believers or an autonomous community of adherents. Rather, those spiritual teachers are the everlasting educators of the spirit because they offer enduring truths that exist without borders or restrictions and that speak across the barrier of time and cultural mores. Those pious sages contemplate sacred teachings in the depth of their miraculous revelation and then free those texts to become universal and to resonate from one generation to another and often from one faith community to another, and even one individual to another. The spiritual teachers are empathetic believers who understand that God speaks to everyone and not a select few.  Holland, 87.

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Al-Ghazali is one such spiritual teacher whose life story itself—which he freely shared—can be regarded as a kind of chronicle of a journey to gain wisdom and peace. His words echo over centuries to speak to all generations and all religious persuasions because of his devotion, his honesty, his benevolence, and his optimism. Devout in his faith and committed to his Islamic brotherhood, he yet applied Sufi wisdom—that he himself struggled over years to attain—to his teachings and shared his insights for the benefit of human society: to regard human relationships not so much as burdens but as benedictions; to engage the “other” always as a relational and not transactional encounter; and so to recognize the place of sincere self-awareness as a necessary pre-condition of entering any relationship, even with God, and so to perceive at all times with the heart the reality of the Divine amid even the most mundane of circumstances. Imagine a world adhering to the ethical and spiritual guidance of Imam al-Ghazali. Just imagine.

Bibliography Dabashi, Hamid. “The Prose and Poetry of the World: The Rise of Literary Humanism in the Seljuqid Empire (1038–1194).” Chapter 3 in The World of Persian Literary Humanism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012. Dobie, Robert J. “Is Revelation Really Necessary? Revelation and the Intellect in Averroes and al-Ghazali.” Chapter 2  in Thinking Through Revelation. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2019. Heck, Paul. “Mysticism as Morality: The Case of Sufism.” The Journal of Religious Ethics, Vol. 34, No. 2 (June, 2006), 253–\286. Lobel, Diana. “The Dance of Human Expression: al-Ghazali and Maimonides.” Chapter 10  in The Quest for God and the Good: World Philosophy as a Living Experience. New York: Columbia University Press, 2011. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein, editor. Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations. Volume 20 of World Spirituality: An Encyclopedic History of the Religious Quest. Ewert Cousins, general editor. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997. Thomas, David. “Al-Ghazālı ̄ and the Progress of Islamic Thought.” Chapter 12 in A Man of Many Parts: Essays in Honor of John Bowker on the Occasion of his Eightieth Birthday. Eugene E. Lemcio, ed. James Clarke & Co Ltd., 2015.

CHAPTER 18

Marriage in Sharı ̄‘a and Ḥ aqı ̄qa: Mystical Marriage in the Thought of Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā Martin Awaana Wullobayi

Background The twentieth-century Sudanese reformist Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā (1909–1985) is best known for the book The Second Message of Islam, the clearest proposal of the author’s ideology. The ideology of Ṭ āhā is based on following the Sunna of Muḥammad, the prophet of Islam, which leads to knowledge of God, the creator. Ṭ āhā became the founder and guide of a spiritual religious organization, the Republican Brothers. A devout Ṣūfı ̄, Ṭ āhā believed that Islam has two aspects: the sharı ̄‘a, Islamic law, and ḥaqı ̄qa, truth/reality. He uses these aspects as a vehicle to propose and explain a methodology of marriage in Islam that promotes equality between husband and wife and respects women’s dignity within the married state. Ṭ āhā maintains that equality within the public domain did not

M. A. Wullobayi (*) Pontificio Istituto di Studi Arabi e d’Islamistica, Rome, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_18

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matter much unless it were ensured within the family. The core of Ṭ āhā’s teaching, based on qur’anic verses, stresses that the original teaching of Islam involves complete equality between men and women, as expressed by the equal responsibility men and women have before God on the day of judgment.1 In effect, Ṭ āhā posits women’s equal rights in marriage through a total reinterpretation of Islamic law, more importantly personal statute laws (or Islamic family law). The qur’anic texts revealed in Mecca, according to Ṭ āhā, can resolve the historical elements of gender inequality of traditional marriage. Ṭ āhā’s attempt to reinterpret marriage laws from within the texts of the Qur’an depends upon his assumption that Islam has two messages, both contained in the Qur’an, revealed to Muḥammad in two different phases. Ṭ āhā calls the first qur’anic revelation in Mecca the “Second Message of Islam” (SMI). Muḥammad brought this message to all people and preached it to them, but they rejected it. Ṭ āhā thus regards this SMI as the original Islamic religion. According to him the message of the SMI and its laws still awaits interpretation and future implementation. He calls the second phase of the revelation in Medina the “First Message of Islam” (FMI). The people accepted this message of Islam which Muḥammad preached to them. For Ṭ āhā, the laws revealed in Medina conformed to the historical context of seventh-century Arabian society. Thus the laws of the FMI elaborated in the sharı ̄‘a do not resolve the issues of equality in the institution of marriage. Ṭ āhā and the Republican Brothers claim that much of classical Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) relied on the qur’anic texts of Medina, which Muslims generally refer to as sharı ̄‘a or Islamic law. Ṭ āhā then calls not only for a renewed application of those texts of the Qur’an which were abrogated—postponed or suspended—in the case of the SMI, but for their universal legislative force, since they respond to the current needs of society. Unlike some scholars who delve deeply into the topic of abrogation, Ṭ āhā does not enter into questions of which particular verses were subsequently abrogated. Instead, he approaches qur’anic texts simply by implementing what he calls the “original qur’anic texts.” In other words, 1  Ṭ āhā builds his argument on gender equality based on these eschatological qur’ānic verses among others: sūrat al-An‘ām (6), 164; sūrat al-Ghāfir (40), 17; sūrat al-Muddathir (74), 38. Cf. Mahmoud Mohamed Taha, The Second Message of Islam, trans. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na‘im (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1987), 139. Unless otherwise stated, all translated qur’ānic texts are taken from Ṣaḥı ̄ḥ International.

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he privileges those texts of the Meccan revelation which were originally suspended, and not what he calls the “subsidiary qur’anic texts” of the Medinan revelation. Ṭ āhā’s theory of abrogation reflects his spiritual transformation, after he emerged from his khalwa (self-imposed religious seclusion), which oriented his new mission with an integrated ideology of the evolution of Islamic law toward the future Islamic legal reform according to the SMI. In the light of this, Ṭ āhā reconsiders the marriage laws of sharı ̄‘a and further expounded marriage using the two core Ṣūfı ̄ words sharı ̄‘a and ḥaqı ̄qa. One sees this especially in his 1971 work Taṭwı ̄r šarı ̄‘at al-aḥwāl al-šakhiyya (The Development of the Personal Status Law, hereafter Taṭwı ̄r). Essentially, sharı ̄‘a and ḥaqı ̄qa are inseparable realities in the different stages in Ṣūfı ̄ practice.2 Sharı ̄‘a continues to be for Muslims a divine law providing believers moral guidance. However, sharı ̄‘a differs from Islamic law or jurisprudence, which is an interpretative law by human reasoning.3 Ḥaqı ̄qa expresses for Ṣūfı ̄s the inner truth/reality implying the transcendent world. Ḥaqı ̄qa consists of everything that the Ṣūfis assume to exist independent of and beyond their experiences.4 It is an aspect of esoteric truth that is deduced from observation which one cannot directly perceive. An integral element of this approach is the Ṣūfı ̄ ṭarı ̄qa (path), which enables a believer to move from the sharı ̄‘a to the ḥaqı ̄qa.5 Like any Ṣūfı ̄, Ṭ āhā also upholds the divine nature of sharı ̄‘a and believes in tawḥı ̄d, the Oneness of God who is transcendent and inaccessible. However, unlike Islamic scholars who put together the Qur’an and Sunna as sources of sharı ̄‘a, Ṭ āhā makes a clear distinction between the two. Ṭ āhā limits the Sunna to the personal practice of Muḥammad and to his statements which 2  Each one of these four stages in Ṣūfism—Islamic law (sharı ̄‘a), spiritual path (ṭarı ̄qa), truth/reality (ḥaqı ̄qa), and esoteric knowledge (ma‘rifa)—is built upon the one preceding it. Cf. Shahida Bilqies, “Understanding the Concept of Islamic Sufism,” Journal of Education & Social Policy, 1, no.1 (June 2014): 66. 3  Islamic law has both revealed sources deriving from sharı ̄‘a (Qur’an and Sunna) and unrevealed sources mainly consensus (ijmā’) and analogical reasoning (qiyās). The terms sharı ̄‘a and Islamic law are used interchangeably throughout the chapter. 4  Cf. Osman Mohamed Osman Ali, “‘Sharı ̄‘a and Reality’: A Domain of Contest among Sunni Muslims in the District of Shendi, Northern Sudan,” in Sharia in Africa Today: Reactions and Response, eds. John A.  Chesworth and Franz Kogelmann (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 16. 5  Thus, those who undertake the Ṣūfı ̄ path when remained faithful to the sharı ̄‘a norms and deeply immersed in God’s Truth, ḥaqı ̄qa, are capable of reaching God’s inner knowledge (ma‘rifa).

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are related to his personal practice, while sharı ̄‘a indicates what Muḥammad would ask his companions to perform. One example is that Muḥammad would ask his companions to pay zakāt of their annual income after they had possessed those funds for one year, based on sūrat al-Tawba (9), 103. Ṭ āhā distinguishes between this sharı ̄‘a interpretation and Muḥammad’s Sunna, which indicates that one should not wait for the wealth to accumulate and then pay zakāt, but that one should share whatever goes beyond his immediate needs. Originally all Muḥammad’s companions were to follow this Sunna but they could not bear it. Thus the rule was repealed and replaced with the aforementioned verse, even though Muḥammad continued to adhere to the rule as indicated in sūrat al-­ Baqara (2), 219. The Republican Brothers aim at reviving the Sunna and making SMI the law of today’s society. For instance, a prophetic ḥadı ̄th speaks about “those who will revive my Sunna after it had been abandoned.”6 The argument is that the SMI provides the opportunity to revive the Sunna for it has established the basic foundation for equality in society. Therefore, society is ready due to its intellectual and technological advancement to interpret marriage laws derived from the Meccan texts. More importantly, however, studies in the areas of marriage have focused more on its socio-legal aspects than on its spiritual dimension. Some modern scholars have discussed marriage in the history of Ṣūfı ̄ thought, but much research on marriage, women, and sexuality in Ṣūfism has focused on the thought of Ibn ‘Arabı ̄ (d. 1240). Despite his much-­ deserved prominence, Ṣūfı ̄ scholars held and hold different views on these issues. Sa‘diyya Shaikh observes that among the Ṣūfı ̄s, “some have strongly rejected marriage and sexuality: others have accepted the normative status of marriage and sex in Islam without fuss; while still others have heartily extolled the spiritual virtues of marital and sexual relationships.”7 It must also be stressed that Abū Ṭ ālib al-Makkı ̄ (d. 998) in his works, for the first time, openly challenged marriage within Ṣūfı ̄ circles. He argues that “God, may he be praised, has decreed neither marriage nor celibacy, just as he has not made it a duty that every man marry four women. But he has decreed integrity of heart, preservation of faith, a soul at peace, and the execution

 Ṭ āhā, The Second Message of Islam, 35.  Sa‘diyya Shaikh, Sufi Narratives of Intimacy: Ibn Arabi, Gender, and Sexuality (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina, 2012), 35–36. 6 7

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of commands needed for these.”8 Al-Hujwı ̄rı ̄ (d. ca. 1077) considered celibacy, though not part of this chapter, a preferred option.9 Al-Ghazālı ̄ (d. 1111) argues that marriage has more merit than does celibacy. He based his argument on several ḥadı ̄ths, one of which recounts Muḥammad saying, “Marriage is my exemplary way [sunnatı ̄]; those who are averse to my example are always averse to me.”10

Gender Inequality in Marriage Laws Of late, the issues of women’s equal rights in the personal status law (PSL) of marriage as well as the true Islamic spirit regarding the equal status of men and women in all fields have become a topic for intense debate among Muslims. Since the 1970s, while the female disciples of Ṭ āhā (Republican Sisters) in Sudan through their publications spearheaded the call for Islamic legal reforms, especially for equality within the private sphere in the family, their fellow Sudanese Women’s Union advocated for equal pay for equal work and improved maternity-leave benefits.11 Aysha Hidayatullah observes that today some movements are calling not only for equal rights for women in the public sphere, in education, in work, in politics, and in nationalist movements, but also for reform in PSL regarding roles in the family.12 Though sharı ̄‘a safeguards marriage as an institution which constitutes the basic foundation of the family unit, Ṭ āhā and his Republicans locate in the FMI the principles of inequality founded in the sharı ̄‘a: guardianship of men over women, inheritance, and men’s rights to polygamous 8  Abū Ṭ ālib Muḥammad b. ‘Alı ̄ Al-Makkı ̄, Qūt al-qulūb, vol. 4, 177 (al-Qāhira: al-Matba‘a al-Miṣriyya, 1932). For the English translation, cf. Shahzad Bashir, “Islamic Tradition and Celibacy,” in Celibacy and Religious Traditions, ed. Carl Olson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 138. 9  ‘Alı ̄ b. ‘Uthmān al-Jullābı ̄ al-Hujwı ̄rı ̄, The Kashf al-mahjub̄ : The Oldest Persian Treatise on Sufism, trans. Reynold Alleyne Nicholson (London: Luzac & Co, 1959), 361–4. 10  Abū Ḥ āmid al-Ghazālı ̄, The Proper Conduct of Marriage in Islam (Ā dāb al-nikāḥ): Book Twelve of Iḥyā’ ‘ulūm al-dı ̄n, trans. Holland Muhtar (Hollywood: Al-Baz Publishing, 2007), 8. 11  Cf. Samia al-Nagar and Liv Tønnessen, Women’s Equal Rights and Islam in Sudanese Republican Thought: A Translation of Three Family Law Booklets from 1975, Produced and Circulated by the Republican Sisters (Bergen: University of Bergen, 2015). https://www. researchgate.net/. 12  Cf. Aysha A. Hidayatullah, Feminist Edges of the Qur’an (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 34f.

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marriage. They claim that these elements of the sharı ̄‘a of the FMI were acceptable to the historical realities of the time. The Meccan revelation with a message of equality did not conform to the customs of Arabian culture and society in the period, and as such, the people resisted this message. Today, women can only advance in the direction of equality by transforming marriage laws based on the Meccan revelations. In this context, Ṭ āhā raises a concern about the legal definition of marriage (nikāḥ, zawāj). A case in point for debate is one espoused by traditionalist scholars who claim that marriage is “a contract that offers its owner the right of enjoyment (mulk al-mut‘a).”13 In its literal sense, mut‘a means enjoyment. However, mulk has different meanings. It could mean an exclusive relationship, that is, a special and devoted relationship between wife and husband. This interpretation is attributed to al-Shāfi‘ı ̄ (d. 820). The other meaning is ownership. The phrase mulk al-mut‘a is commonly understood to refer only to the husband’s right of enjoyment, though the right is supposed to be mutual.14 The traditional understanding of marriage, at this level, falls short of the Republicans’ understanding. According to them, “on the legal plane,” marriage is redefined: [A]s a contract between two equal partners, entered upon by their own free will, with equal rights for both partners for equivalent duties, and dissolved, should the need arise, by agreement between them. Spelled out, this means that there is no longer any guardian who signs the marriage contract on behalf of the bride. Instead, the bride signs for herself. Also the right of divorce will be equally shared by the couple.15

One finds a clear contrast here between the Republicans and the traditional definition of marriage. For instance, the Republicans insist that no equality exists in marriage according to the FMI; one partner dominates in the marriage contract. FMI marriage ultimately posits the patriarchal image of guardianship in which men’s identity is superior to women’s. 13  Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā, Tat ̣wı ̄r sharı ̄‘at al-aḥwāl al-shakhsị yya, 3rd ed. (Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1979), 69. 14  Cf. Ahmed Shukri, Muhammadan Law of Marriage and Divorce (New York: AMS Press, 1966), 21. 15  The Republican Brothers, “The Situation of Women in the Second Message,” in An Introduction to the Second Message of Islam (Omdurman: Republican Brothers, 1976), 24–25.

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Republicans’ Marriage Practice in Sharı ̄‘a

Given the importance of Ṭ āhā’s teachings for his followers, the relationship he shared with his wife Amna Lotfi, whom he married in 1939, became the role model for the Republicans’ marriage.16 In essence, the Republicans encourage their youth to marry among themselves in conformity with Ṭ āhā’s vision of Islam. Marriage between members of the same Ṣūfı ̄ order was already a common practice in many places. Al-Mı ̄rghanı ̄ Ṣūfı ̄ order in Sudan “set up a network of followers through marriage alliances and mosque-building.”17 The Republicans developed a simple marriage celebration and implemented the principle of equality based on Ṭ āhā’s 1971 work Khaṭwa naḥwa al-zawa ̄j fı ̄ al-Isla ̄m (Step Toward Marriage in Islam, “hereafter Khaṭwa”). The Khaṭwa describes legal and social norms within the limits of the sharı ̄‘a and guarantees equal rights in marriage contracts. The hope of the Republicans is to achieve complete equality in their future project of the SMI. In this context one must stress that marriage in some parts of Sudan, especially in the north, not only occurs under the most restrictive historical formulations of sharı ̄‘a but also conforms to several restrictive legal and social norms.18 In her study of Muslim marriage practices in Sudan, Fluehr-­ Lobban observes, “The legal requirements are relatively simple, yet the ritual and celebration associated with the signing of the marriage contract (al-‘aqd) and the wedding itself (al-zawāj) are so elaborately combined that one may be confused with the other.”19 In this process the tenets of Islamic law and local customs are simply lumped together making them difficult to distinguish one from the other. As per the Republicans’ observation, the social aspect of marriage ceremonies is generally celebrated with great extravagance. For example, an expensive payment of mahr (dowry), luxury clothes, and the cost of new furniture exceeded the cost of the usual traditional marriage, thereby 16  Steve Howard, “The Republican Sisters of Sudan: Moving to the Front Lines of Muslim Social Change,” Hawwa 14 (2016): 43. https://brill.com/view/journals/haww/14/1/ article-p20_3.xml. 17  Edward Thomas, Islam’s Perfect Stranger: The Life of Mahmud Muhammad Taha, Muslim Reformer of Sudan (London: I.B. Tauris, 2010), 27. 18  Cf. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na‘im, “Translator’s Introduction,” in The Second Message of Islam, 6. 19  Carolyn Fluehr-Lobban, Islamic Law and Society in the Sudan (London: Frank Class, 1987), 104.

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creating financial crises and putting an even greater burden on families, which often discouraged young people from marriage.20 Interestingly, this kind of situation did not arise only recently. The Persian Ṣūfı ̄ al-Hujwı ̄rı ̄ posits that in his time it was impossible for anyone to have a suitable wife whose wants were not excessive and whose demands were not unreasonable.21 An-Na‘im also observes that “[a] high bride-price often had negative consequences on the matrimonial relationship itself.”22 This suggests that the bargaining of the amount to pay to the bride preceding the final agreement of the contract did not add value and dignity to women but instead reflects a loss of honor carried by the limitations of the traditional sharı ̄‘a. In an attempt to resolve these socio-legal problems of marriage, in 1971 the Republicans adopted Ṭ āhā’s methodology in conducting their marriages. At the legal level, the Republicans’ marriage practice restored women’s dignity by not only granting them the equal right of consent to their marriage partner, but also the right of divorce and a non-polygamous life: the Republicans granted women the unilateral divorce that traditional sharı ̄‘a considered the right only of the husband. According to the Republicans, at the origin of the religion, divorce is a right for women as it is for men. The rights of women in sharı ̄‘a of the FMI were entrusted to men.23 They claim that the divorce rules as part of the FMI manifested a transitional stage and as such were not the final word about what Islam means for believers. While the Sudanese Sharı ̄‘a family court applied Ḥ anafı ̄ jurisprudence and permitted a man to give a woman the right to divorce unilaterally, the court did not actually apply the provision. Paramount to the Republicans’ way of resolving marital disputes is the use of the qur’anic principle of two arbiters to mediate. According to An-Na‘im, in reality, sharı ̄‘a courts did not use the mediation principle as stipulated in sūrat al-Nisā’ (4), 35. Instead, he saw that marital disputes were routinely submitted to the formal courts, which were not suitable to settle such delicate and personal issues with the sensitivity and candor of private arbitration that they deserve.24 The ideal way to avoid the disclosure of the couple’s private 20  Cf. Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā, Khaṭwa naḥwa al-zawaj̄ fı ̄ al-Isla ̄m (Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1971), 2. 21  al-Hujwı ̄rı ̄, The Kashf al-mahjūb, 363. 22  An-Na‘im, “Translator’s Introduction,” 6. 23  Ṭ āhā, Tatw ̣ ı ̄r Sharı ̄‘a, 76. 24  Cf. An-Na‘im, “Translator’s Introduction,” 6.

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affairs to a large audience is to resort to arbiters’ mediation from both families. Al-Ghazālı ̄, on the duties of husband, affirms this, saying, “[t]he husband should not reveal secrets about his wife, no more after repudiation than during the marriage itself.”25 Republicans consider this way of mediation to conform to the true spirit of the religion for resolving marriage disputes, although as a point of fact the courts rarely applied them in the Sudanese context. When Ṭ āhā proposed the steps described in Khaṭwa, he raised controversy among the Sudanese public. Due to the degree of ignorance exhibited among the people about PSL, he published Tat ̣wı ̄r to explain further his methodology about marriage. Even so, the public failed to understand that the main objective of the methodology was to reinterpret marriage law designed by legal customs so as to restore dignity to women within the limits permitted by the sharı ̄‘a salafiyya (traditional sharı ̄‘a). According to An-Na‘im, “[t]he purpose would, of course, be better achieved if mahr were abolished altogether, but that is not possible under the present circumstances.”26 Meanwhile, to resolve this legal issue, Ṭ āhā’s methodology considers two intersecting levels of sharı ̄‘a in Islam: the traditional sharı ̄‘a derived from the FMI and the new sharı ̄‘a derived from the SMI.  The impulse here is to reinterpret marriage laws within the already-existing traditional sharı ̄‘a. This sharı ̄‘a generally held that four conditions must be satisfied before marriage can take place between a man and a woman: the two contracting parties are to be void of any maḥal (legal or customary impediments), there are to be shāhidān (two witnesses), a mahr (dower or the bridal gift to the wife as her right for the marriage contract) is to be given, and the agreement of the woman’s walı ̄ (guardian) is to be obtained. In the SMI, where men and women are equal partners, only two of the four conditions remain: the maḥal and the shāhidān. Some intersections exist between these sets of laws. Some hold that mahr can be nominal or symbolic or that the walı ̄ could be the woman herself. According to the Ḥ anafı ̄ school of fiqh based on the sharı ̄‘a of the FMI, a woman can marry herself to a man if he respects the law of kafā’a, which is equal status to her, negating the need for a male walı ̄. According to this, if a woman acts within the stipulated conditions no reproach comes against her for acting as a guardian to herself. However, the jurists defined this kafā’a in six  Abū Ḥ āmid al-Ghazālı ̄, The Proper Conduct of Marriage, 88.  An-Na‘im, “Translator’s Introduction,” 7.

25 26

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areas: Islam, freedom, profession, wealth, lineage, and piety.27 This means that a free woman should choose a man who is also free and is of the same wealth and professional class as her family; otherwise, her family may object to that marriage based on this kafā’a clause. Since Khaṭwa concerns Islamic law it tried to highlight the brightest spots in this law and use it until the complete transformation to the SMI is achieved. Hence, the Republicans used the nominal dower of one Sudanese pound, and interjected the practice of tafwı ̄ḍ (delegation). The amount of the mahr here complied with legal norms, but they hoped to abolish it with its customary material value in the SMI. Ṭ āhā commented that reduction of the material dower without translating this into dignity is nothing more than a disregard for women; because the material dower now represents the pride of a woman and her price, even a nominal mahr recalls the fact that the dower originally represented the price of buying her.28 Today women have no price. Rather, they are partners of their husbands in an equal relationship. Since the partners are equal in dignity and respect, they do not need a dower to guarantee the stability of their marriage. As for the kafā’a, Ṭ āhā argues that four areas such as Islam, freedom, profession, and wealth, areas which concerned the Ḥ anafı ̄ jurists, were outdated and violated the spirit of Islam itself. Ṭ āhā explained that Islam here means the utterings of the Shahāda29 and pretending to be Muslim, but he does not consider these a true measure for the quality of a man. Ṭ āhā also considered freedom an outdated concept that has no place in today’s society. He forcefully asserted that although God revealed the religion of Islam to a community for which slavery was part and parcel of the social and economic order, the original precept of Islam was freedom.30 Profession and wealth also do not measure the quality of a person’s character. However, family members can raise the remaining two conditions, lineage and piety, because they may be reflected in the character of a man. In his opinion, Mohamed A. Mahmoud says that lineage as a “kafa’a factor was a racist construction privileging Arabs over non-Arabs within

 Cf. Ṭ āhā, Tat ̣wı ̄r, 72f.  Ṭ āhā, Khatwa, 3. 29  Shahāda is when Muslims bear witness to the Oneness of God by uttering: “There is no god but God, and Muḥammad is the messenger of God.” 30  Cf. Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 137. 27 28

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the Muslim community.”31 He goes on to say that even Mālikı ̄ and some Ḥ anafı ̄ jurists like al-Thawrı ̄ Sa‘ı ̄d (d. 778 AD) and others did not accept this lineage factor. 32 Lineage as a qualification for marriage goes contrary to Ṭ āhā’s advocacy for social equality. Ṭ āhā explained in other parts of his work that lineage in this context is not a racial or biological attribute. An example here is the moment when the Prophet distanced himself from his uncle, Abū Lahab, and cited his close relationship with Salmān the Persian. Ṭ āhā expounds that lineage is connected to demonstrating good ethics and values. If a man comes from low lineage but demonstrates that he has high ethics and values, the guardian does not have the authority to object to the marriage. Ṭ āhā supports this argument with a ḥadı ̄th in which Muḥammad said, “[W]hen someone whose religion and character you are pleased with comes to you, then marry (your daughter or her) to him. If you do not do so, then there will be turmoil in the land and widespread corruption.”33 Again, the lineage would not be of concern if the man has a clear and strong character, but the family of the woman may check it out only if the character of the man is unknown or weak, thus granting assurance as the two families prepare to intermingle. Ṭ āhā says that “the Republican families give their boys and girls good opportunities in their intellectual meetings, for example, to know each other in an entirely sound, healthy, and religious environment.”34 With regard to piety, Ṭ āhā explains that a pious man can be of any religion or creed as long as he has a good moral character. This is the refined sharı ̄‘a for marriage so it can take a good step toward marriage in the SMI. Though Ṭ āhā is convinced that his approach to gender equality is within the legal framework of Islam, he is fully aware of the challenges in reinterpreting Islamic law to address these socio-legal issues in the marriage institution. He and the Republicans established that the spirit of the religion based on the sharı ̄‘a is one of affection, mercy, and peaceful coexistence; at the same time their Sharı ̄‘a courts are still imprisoned by the

31  Mohamed A. Mahmoud, Quest for Divinity: A Critical Examination of the Thought of Mahmud Muhammad Taha (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2007), 162. 32  Cf. Mahmoud, Quest for Divinity, 162. 33  Ṭ āhā, Khaṭwa, 5; the ḥadith is an amended version of the work of al-Tirmidhı ̄, Kitāb al-Nikāb, 1046. 34  Ṭ āhā, Khaṭwa, 5.

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opinions of the traditional scholars.35 However, the alternative to the legal aspects of marriage discussed above is Ṭ āhā’s shift to the concept of marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa.

Marriage in the Ṣūfı ̄ Theme of Ḥ aqıqa ̄

At the heart of Ṭ āhā’s view on marriage we see a shift from marriage in sharı ̄‘a to marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa.36 His use of Ṣūfı ̄ themes for marriage was necessary, since ḥaqı ̄qa evokes a spiritual level and has a great significance in Ṣūfı ̄ traditions. His ideas about sharı ̄‘a and the relationship between married couples expressed within the framework of ḥaqı ̄qa were born out of an intense moment of his personal spiritual reflection. Ṭ āhā claims that marriage in Islam is a “sacred bond (ribāt ̣ muqaddas)”37 and an “eternal relationship”38 between a man and a woman. He argues, however, that legal marriage within sharı ̄‘a is an attempt whereby a man and a woman strive to achieve the relationship that did exist between Adam and Eve, when Eve was taken out of Adam.39 In other writings the Republicans reiterated the words of Ṭ āhā, arguing that “[t]he woman is for her husband completely and fully as the man should be for his wife, without any other wife.”40 They argued that the Meccan texts sanctioned one wife and not polygamy as is the case of Medina texts. They also underline that “marriage is no longer thought of as a union between a pair primarily entered upon for the sake of reproduction in order to propagate and preserve the human race while sexual gratification comes in only as a means to facilitate the performance of this function.”41 Marriage as such was possible when human beings were not treated as an end in themselves, but a means to other ends. As Ibn Ashūr (d. 1973) says, for religious purpose, the sharı ̄‘a has placed marriage in a

35  al-Ikhwān al-Jumhūriyyūn, Bayt al-t ̣ā‘a: al-mushkila wa-l-ḥall (Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1975), 2. https://www.alfikra.org/. 36  Cf. Martin Awaana Wullobayi, Mystical Aspects of Marriage in The Writings of Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ a ̄hā and His Influence on Al-Iḫwān Al-Ǧumhūriyyūn, Dissertation (Rome: PISAI, 2019), 333ff. 37  Ṭ āhā, Khaṭwa, 2. 38  Ṭ āhā, The Second Message of Islam, 142. 39  Cf. Ṭ āhā, The Second Message of Islam, 142. 40  al-Nagar and Tønnessen, “Women’s Equal Rights and Islam,” 19. 41  The Republican Brothers, “The Situation of Women in the Second Message,” 26–27.

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more sanctified rank, elevating it above the satisfaction of sexual desire.42 The key word is “sanctified.” Thus the objective of marriage is not simply for sexual desire but rather a process of an eternal and a sanctified relationship. Ṭ āhā is consistent in the use of duality, which reflects the Ṣūfı ̄’s understanding of ẓa ̄hir (apparent) and bāṭin (hidden) meaning. For him, God revealed the Qur’an with its dual meanings and as such the concepts of sharı ̄‘a and ḥaqı ̄qa reflect his interpretation of the Qur’an. In Ṭ āhā’s work on Qur’an and Muṣṭafā Maḥmūd, the concept of duality is demonstrated in sūrat al-Anfāl (8), 17, which addresses Muḥammad, “And you threw not, [O Muhammad], when you threw, but it was Allah who threw that.” Ṭ āhā explains the text saying: “[Y]ou threw not” is in the ḥaqı ̄qa, “when you threw” is in the sharı ̄‘a, “but it was Allah who threw that” is in both cases: ḥaqı ̄qa and sharı ̄‘a. Thus, the hand that threw is your hand in the apparent meaning, but God’s hand is in the hidden meaning. Then duality is between the sharı ̄‘a and the ḥaqı ̄qa.43

This interpretation has a spiritual dimension, as one often sees in Ṭ āhā’s work on the SMI: every meaning has a corporal existence and every ḥaqı ̄qa has a corresponding sharı ̄‘a. Similarly, every meaning or truth has a pyramid shape, with a peak and a base, and when the peak improves, the base will as well.44 Ṭ āhā applies these concepts of sharı ̄‘a-ḥaqı ̄qa duality to marriage. The practice of marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa is at a higher stage. Ṭ āhā implies here that marriage has the highest place of honor among human relations, making it an essential means to rediscover lost selves.45 In ḥaqı ̄qa: “[Y]our wife is your twin (ṣinw), your sister (shaqı ̄qa). She is an emanation (inbithāq) of yourself outside you.”46 The notion of marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa is certainly not within the context of legal aspects dealing with the marriage contract. Rather, it is spiritual in nature, relying on terms as s ̣inw, shaqı ̄qa, and 42   Muhammad al-Tahir Ibn Ashur, Treatise on Maqāṣid al-shari‘a, trans. Mohamed El-Tahir El-Mesawi (London-Washington: International Institute of Islamic Thought, 2006), 252. 43  Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā, Al-Qur’ān wa-Musṭafā Maḥmūd wa-l-fahm al-‘asṛ ı ̄ (Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1971), 92f. 44  Ṭ āhā, The Second Message of Islam, 93. 45  The Republican Brothers, “The Situation of Women in the Second Message,” 27. 46  Ṭ āhā, Taṭwı ̄r, 59.

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inbithāq. Though the word shaqı ̄qa could also mean “the other half,” a sister in blood is explicit in a ḥadı ̄th that says women are the sisters (shaqā’iq) of men.47 On its merits, if the women are like sisters of men, one could argue that this tradition denies any privileging of men over women. Analogically the tradition could also be like a relational experience between siblings where a shared relationship and memory of their common origin makes them unique as brothers and sisters. Continuing his thought about marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa, Ṭ āhā uses sūrat Fuṣs ̣ilat (41), 53: “We will show them Our signs in the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth.” This sūra adds an in-depth sense of the abundant Ṣūfı ̄ symbolism in understanding marriage in ḥaqı ̄qa. The signs, “in the horizon” and “within themselves,” illustrate an opposition between outer signs and inner signs. Ṭ āhā interprets the text to mean that “a man’s wife is his corresponding part, the manifestation of his self outside himself.” He reaffirms, “She is the totality of the outward sign corresponding to the man’s self.”48 In other words, the husband and the wife unite in the one self. Prior to Ṭ āhā, we find a similar interpretation in Ibn ‘Arabı ̄’s works, who said, “We will show them Our signs in the horizons.” This dictum refers to that which is outside of a person and is coupled with, “We will show them within themselves,” referring to the sign inside a person.49 We can say that the signs of the apparent and hidden, to some extent, are within the heart of the individual. Ṭ āhā understands the complexity within the relationship between husband and wife. Hence he resorts to the Ṣūfı ̄ symbolism of relationship between God and al-Insān al-Kāmil (the Perfect Human). He sees a deeper reason to apply this symbolism to husband and wife, drawing upon the creation story of sūrat al-Nisā’ (4), 1: “O mankind, fear your Lord, who created you from one soul and created from it its mate and dispersed from both of them many men and women.” Ṭ āhā here speaks about a spiritual level, ḥaqı ̄qa, in which all men and women are descended from al-dhāt al-ila ̄hiyya (Divine essence). He associates the al-Insān al-Kāmil with the Perfect Human, Muḥammad. Muḥammad was the first zawj, a 47  Cf. Arent Jan Wensinck, Concordance et Indices de la Tradition Musulmane, vol. 3, (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 162. 48  Cf. Ṭ āhā, The Second Message, 142. 49  Cf. Muḥyı ̄ al-Dı ̄n Ibn al-‘Arabı ̄, Fusūs al-ḥikam, vol 2, trans. Ismail Hakki, H. Tollemache, R.A. Brass, Bulent Rauf (Oxford-Istanbul: Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society, 1986), 277.

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pair that came out of absolute unity. Ṭ āhā’s usage of zawj here does not mean “wife,” as the Arabic word has a meaning that also reflects duality and parity. Basically, Ṭ āhā is saying that al-Insān al-Ka ̄mil emanated from this “one soul” which is God’s self. The eternal soul is, first of all, the soul of God that exists from eternity. The Perfect Human is not the Divine essence, but rather is the new essence created out of the Divine essence. The new essence was the first to encounter God’s lights.50 Muḥammad referred to himself, saying, “[t]he first thing that God created was my light.”51 From the Perfect Human who is also one comes another duality and that is his true wife who is a manifestation of his inner self outside. Intisar Rabb, exploring the creation story, also posits that God created everything in pairs by creating human beings first from one soul in God’s Divine presence and then fashioned that soul into a pair. In mystical terms: [I]t becomes the constant quest of the masculine and feminine aspects of this single soul to reunite so that they return to the state of completeness of the first moment of creation, when the soul was in close proximity to the divine and unaware of separate existence. This quest is facilitated through the mutual attraction of male and female.52

The above discussion leads to Ṭ āhā’s argument on the issue of divorce. He stresses that the original teaching of Islam does not consider divorce a possibility since marriage involves the continuity of the relationship. He refers to the ḥadı ̄th, “[t]he most hateful permissible act in the sight of God is divorce.”53 Though the Sharı ̄‘a sanctioned the practice of divorce, God dislikes it. Ṭ āhā thus says that “divorce is permitted in order to give a second chance.”54 The practice became possible because human beings do not possess enough light (nūr) to discern properly when choosing the right partner. Ṭ āhā then used the example of the relationship that existed between Adam and Eve: [w]hen Adam and Eve fell through sin and were expelled from paradise, they both descended to earth separately, and began to look for each other:  Ṭ āhā, Taṭwı ̄r, 59.  Sa‘diyya Shaikh, Sufi Narratives of Intimacy, 74. 52  Intisar Rabb, “Marriage in Islam,” in Medieval Islamic Civilization: An Encyclopedia, vol 1, ed. J.W. Meri (New York and London: Routledge, 2006), 480. 53  Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 140. 54  Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 142. 50 51

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Adam looking for Eve, and Eve looking for Adam. After much search, Adam found Eve without really finding her, and Eve found Adam, and without really finding him. From that day to the present, each Adam is looking for his Eve and each Eve is looking for her Adam.55

Each Adam and Eve looks for the true partner. Although for Ṭ āhā believers are endowed with the light of faith (nūr al-ı ̄mān) to make the right choice, their light is weak. Divorce was essential to correct the wrong choice that individuals might have made. According to him, in reference to sūrat al-Tawba (9), 32, God will “perfect His light” when the final Islam comes, SMI. When the light of Islam is “perfected” in the SMI, a believer will find the right person to marry. The believer will make no error in their choice, making divorce legislation irrelevant. Another argument that Ṭ āhā puts forward is polygamy. He stipulates that polygamy is not allowed unless for a crucial necessity such as barrenness or an incurable physical ailment.56 He emphasized, however, that the practice is a transitional stage leading eventually to complete gender equality without polygamy. Ṭ āhā argues here on the basis of sūrat al-Nisā’ (4), 3 and 129. The main intent of these verses is “perfect” justice. According to Ṭ āhā, sharı ̄‘a “descended from ‘perfect’ justice which is required in the original religious principle, because that was premature for the society as well as individual men and women. Instead ‘relative’ justice was accepted in sharı ̄‘a.”57 One sees Ṭ āhā’s concept of perfect justice when he expounds his position on the one wife. Here again one finds the theme of al-Insān al-Kāmil, this time associating the Perfect Human with Adam, God’s vice-regent. In this context, Ṭ āhā says that Eve became the wife of Adam in ḥaqı ̄qa, expressing the Ṣūfı ̄ understanding of the “hidden meaning.” Ṭ āhā interprets that Eve came out of Adam who is the “one soul” as in sūrat al-Nisa ̄’ (4), 1: “and [God] created from it its mate.” Ṭ āhā thus seems to return to the idea of one’s wife being the manifestation of him outside himself. For Ṭ āhā, Adam is presented as the first among God’s messengers to declare God’s Oneness with the sharı ̄‘a principles. For this reason, God wanted both of them to marry in accordance with the sharı ̄‘a. Ṭ āhā argues that the union of Adam with Eve will be within the sharı ̄‘a rulings of the  Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 143.  Ṭ āhā, Khaṭwa, 7. 57  Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 140f. [Reference includes the qur’anic verse] 55 56

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apparent (ẓa ̄hir) meaning.58 Hence, Adam was not to have sexual contact with her until the sharı ̄‘a permitted him to do so as expounded in sūrat al-A‘rāf (7), 19–26. In this context, the text on one wife came from the proximity between the sharı ̄‘a and ḥaqı ̄qa, in that Adam’s wife in ḥaqı ̄qa was his wife in sharı ̄‘a. One could argue that Ṭ āhā’s redefinition of marriage, seeing a man’s wife as the totality of the outward sign in relation to his inner self, reflects Ṭ āhā’s vision of their mutual desire to unite in the state of completeness in marriage without any contemplation of divorce or polygamy. To concretize this, the individuals must attain absolute freedom and perfection, which means evolving from imperfection to the perfection of God, the infinite.59 Ṭ āhā believes that God is taking every individual up the ladder to the higher station of this perfection, which means fighting against one’s own fear and ignorance in order to attain knowledge.

Conclusion Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ āhā contributed to Islamic reform by reinterpreting sharı ̄‘a in order to attain an Islamic law incorporating gender equality based on his understanding of the Second Message of Islam. Ṭ āhā saw in Islam a vision of legal equality for women in the institution of marriage. As such he attempted to remove the traditional sharı ̄‘a disadvantages imposed on women in order to reconstruct a marriage institution based on the original meaning of the Qur’an. Ṭ āhā’s proposal to suspend some parts of the Qur’an as revealed in Medina in favor of texts of the Qur’an revealed in Mecca has led to some scholars dismissing his ideology as a disservice to the general opinion of Muslims, although Ṭ āhā saw this as a step toward achieving the universal message of Islam. Noting that Ṭ āhā sees the traditional sharı ̄‘a as a transitional stage, he recognized its current attempt to achieve the fundamental relationship between man and woman as it was between Adam and Eve. However, the traditional sharı ̄‘a permits divorce as a legal means to resolve the incompatibility resulting from mistakes in the choice of spouses. The new reinterpretation of sharı ̄‘a proposed in Ṭ āhā’s SMI must be construed based on the intended meaning of the Divine law, not based on gender bias or guardianship of men over women but on love and equality. Ṭ āhā therefore  Ṭ āhā, Taṭwı ̄r, 65.  Taha, The Second Message of Islam, 64ff.

58 59

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resisted any attempt to justify Muslim men beating their wives or practicing divorce or polygamy, even though these were all legal rights according to traditional sharı ̄‘a. Edward Thomas, citing his interview with An-Na‘im, said: [t]he Muslim who says “I will never strike my wife” has no response to the Muslim who does, and who has a legal right to do so. It is becoming rarer and rarer in urbanized middle-class communities. … [A]middle class professional career man is increasingly unlikely to hit his wife—but the legal right [to do so] remains under shari‘a.60

Ṭ āhā’s approach to Islam in a changing society, using a Ṣūfı ̄ lens, was important for his followers. One recognizes in the Republicans a marriage practice which could be a model for contemporary marriage in Sudan, as there is a sense of legal transformation and spiritual meaning. Their marriage practice tends to play a greater role in the advancement of every individual’s happiness, freedom, and spiritual development. The practice deepens and broadens marital life to produce direct communion with God,61 the source of creation. This has also inspired the Republicans and attracted young Sudanese with a different vision of the future, Sudanese who might have been discouraged from marriage due to restrictive legal and social norms. As Thomas observes, Ṭ āhā’s vivid spiritual experience helped him not only to reach some conclusions about the need to change sharı ̄‘a but also to express his sense of self-realization in using Ṣūfı ̄ language and symbols.62

Bibliography ̄ al-Ghazālı ̄, Abū Ḥ āmid. The Proper Conduct of Marriage in Islam (Adāb al-nikah̄ ̣): Book Twelve of Iḥyā’ ‘ulūm al-dı ̄n. Holland Muhtar, trans. Hollywood: Al-Baz Publishing, 2007. al-Hujwı ̄rı ̄, ‘Alı ̄ b. ‘Uthmān al-Jullābı ̄. The Kashf al-mahjūb: The Oldest Persian Treatise on Sufism. Reynold Alleyne Nicholson, trans. London: Luzac & Co, 1959. Ali, Osman Mohamed Osman. “‘Sharı ̄‘a and Reality’: A Domain of Contest among Sunni Muslims in the District of Shendi, Northern Sudan.” In Sharia in Africa  Thomas, Islam’s Perfect Stranger, 164.  Cf. The Republican Brothers, “The Situation of Women in the Second Message,” 27f. 62  Cf. Thomas, Islam’s Perfect Stranger, 200. 60 61

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Ṭ āhā, Maḥmūd Muḥammad. Al-Risālat al-ṯāniya min al-Islam ̄ . 4th ed. Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1969. ______. Khaṭwa naḥwa al-zawāj fı ̄ al-Islām. Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1971. ______. Al-Qur’ān wa-Musṭafā Maḥmūd wa-l-fahm al-‘aṣrı ̄. Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1971. ______. Taṭwı ̄r šarı ̄‘at al-aḥwāl al-šaḫsị yya. 3rd ed. Umdurmān: Jumhūrı ̄, 1979. The Republican Brothers. “The Situation of Women in the Second Message.” In An Introduction to the Second Message of Islam, by The Republican Brothers. Umdurmān: Republican Brothers, 1976. Thomas, Edward. Islam’s Perfect Stranger: The Life of Mahmud Muhammad Taha, Muslim Reformer of Sudan. London: I.B. Tauris, 2010. Wensinck, Arent Jan. Concordance et indices de la tradition musulmane. Vol. 3. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Wullobayi, Martin Awaana. Mystical Aspects of Marriage in the Writings of Maḥmūd Muḥammad Ṭ a ̄hā and His Influence on Al-Iḫwān Al-Ǧumhūriyyūn. Doctoral thesis. Rome: PISAI, 2019.

CHAPTER 19

Concluding Remarks Muhammad Shafiq

The psyche and physical behavior of individuals is deeply impacted by political, economic, and social environments. A holistic environment is significant for children and even adults’ growth. A human being is a social animal, too, and is influenced by the prevailing environment. I have been through the various stages of my life from my childhood until now and the effect is never-ending. Dr. Donlin-Smith has well summarized the key points of the chapters in his introduction to this volume. Instead of going through the chapters further, let me begin with my personal story. I was a child in an impoverished village walking a mile to primary school. Once there was a gun battle between our village and another. It was because of that that I have hated guns all my life. Though born in a conservative traditional household, my early college life had a profound influence on me, over conservative fighting about religious interpretation in late 1960s. I questioned myself, and wondered why we could not dialogue; why we had to fight about issues that were not significant.

M. Shafiq (*) Hickey Center and IIIT Chair, Nazareth College, Rochester, NY, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2_19

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One of my professors participated in Sufi circles and he witnessed the discontent in my life. He took me to Sufi circles in the early 1970s, but these did not impress me. I was searching for a moderate approach to life issues. I found Sufism denouncing worldly pleasures. Coming from an impoverished lifestyle, I committed myself to pursue higher education and educate my family to live an enlightened life. Two things influenced me on my arrival to the U.S., to Temple University in Philadelphia in 1976. One was a huge student rally in September 1976 in front of Paley Library. They were asking for state funding to avoid the university closing. I asked my friend to leave, as I feared they would burn the library in anger. The leaders of the rally decided to write letters to the state representatives, and assigned a delegation to visit the capital. It was a peaceful and wise decision, such that I had not witnessed before my arrival to the U.S. The second influence was my work at the ecumenical library of the department, managing the library, reading articles on ecumenism, and attending ecumenical conferences in 1978–1979. I learned that dialogue could replace hate with peaceful coexistence. I had not yet witnessed the impact of material greed and egoism until I came to Rochester in 1989. As imam and director of the Islamic Center, I saw the pains of material greed, of family breakdowns and, most importantly, witnessed the very rich in suffering. I found in my counseling Muslims and non-Muslims, who had wealth, but were living in pain. It affected my life. I started visiting Christian monks and reading books on Sufism. I built relations with Sufi circles in greater Rochester area. The Sufi master once honored me by having me lead the worship service and speak to the congregation. I found the value of spiritual and mystical tradition in visiting these remote and secluded areas with monks and Sufi circles. I became convinced that material greed is the major cause of human suffering, resulting in egoism and arrogance, destroying self, family, and community. I said in some of my sermons that greed is like a desert snake in the body, poisoning it in pain but not killing it. One time I thought of renunciation, but my love for my family and wish for my kids to pursue higher education stopped me. I thought material greed was an American and Western problem, but it is a global issue. Material greed is hurting the poor, increasing political instability, destroying economic equilibrium, and causing structural inequity leading to violence all over the world. The problem is severe in the developing world, but the so-called development nations are facing

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extreme trends today. In our blind pursuit of material greed, many have lost their spiritual strength, hurting themselves and others. The past years two conferences of the Hickey Center and IIIT chair were part of my agony: one, the “(De) Legitimizations of Violence in Religions” and the last one, “Mystical Traditions: Approaches to Peaceful Coexistence.” My drive in life is to see moderation between material life and spiritual life growing together in balance, avoiding extremes on both sides. I did not join any mystical tradition. Like religions, mystical traditions emphasize strict rules and Bai`ah (allegiance) to the Master, restricting human freedom. I preferred the word spiritual to mystical. I know both have been criticized. But spirituality to me expands human freedom, adopting multiple methods, from reading and listening to various approaches to exercising the one that best suits your needs comfortably. The chapters recommended for this volume cover variety of aspects of the mystical traditions, but the interpretation of various terminologies is significant to understand. The word spirituality comes from the Qur’anic and Biblical use of the words Raha and Ruh. Translated as spirit and, in some places, the soul. God says in the Qur’an that when I created human being, I put my Spirit in him (wa Nafakhtu fihe min Ruhi),1 which signifies peoples’ connection to God through sharing the Ruh. God then created the rest of humanity and made Himself known to them through a “Primordial Covenant” in establishing the necessary relationship. God said to them: “Am I not your Lord, your Cherisher (Alastu berabbikum)?” They replied, “yes, You are and we are witness to it” (Qalu Balaa, Shahidna).2 Ignoring this connection breaks the balance between spiritual thrust and material life. I like the teachings of Fana, Baqa, Nirvana, or Moksha as expressed in some of the articles. Visiting places of natural beauty like gardens, watching rivers flowing, observing the wonderful creations of the beautiful universe, or even observing beautiful art strengthens my spirituality. I believe on meditation and worship. I am impressed with how Buddha rejected the temptation of Mara, Jesus repulsed Satan, Muhammad turned down the material temptation of the Quraysh, and the same about other prophets. I love this supplication of the Qur’an, which Muslims repeat in their daily prayer: “O Allah bless me with the best of this world and the best of the

1 2

 Qur’an, 15:29 and 38:72.  Qur’an, 7:172.

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next life.”3 I love what Prophet Muhammad said about Jesus: that my brother Jesus was walking with his disciples, and some people in the street said: Evil (Shar) is passing. Jesus replied these are good people. His disciples were upset, and questioned Jesus. He told them, everyone speaks of what he/she poses; I do not have evil in me to speak about it. This is epitome of spiritualty, a conscious mind and awakened heart, what is called in Muslim tradition a perfect humane being (Insane Kamil). I prefer the Qur’anic teaching that when God created human being, he made them aware of evil temptations (Fujuraha) and showed them the way to shield themselves from evil (wa Taqwaha) and to live a righteous life.4 The Qur’an further divides human conscience (Nafs) as having three inclinations. One is Nafs Ammarah Bissu’ (the evil conscience or self)5 which encourages people to greed and unlawful activities. The second is Nafs Lawwamah (the warning side of human conscience)6; when someone is attempting illegal (Haram) activity, it warns them of the dangerous consequences. The third one is Nafs Mutma’inna (the contented conscience, the pleased one).7 Listening to the call of Nafs Lawwamah and rejecting the temptation self, one takes a step toward the contented self. Continuous steps toward it makes the Nafs Mutma’inna stronger, as the human spiritual light gets better, its contacts with Light upon Light (the Light of God) gets better. Otherwise, following the evil conscience makes the evil self-stronger and the light within human conscience starts dying and slowing; the person moves to a beastly life. I don’t keep beads with me as some others do, but I have a simple method whenever evil temptations hit me anywhere. I say Subhan Allah (Glory be to God) or A`uzu Billah (I seek refuge in God) loudly to reject the temptation. I tried not to give a space to evil conscience that could affect my psyche. I believe this is important to keep the balance in life. I believe leaning toward the Contented Self would result in controlling human greed, egoism, and arrogance—the evil disease that is ripping the world in violence. Efforts made through worship services, meditation, Yoga, Zikr, or other methods toward the Contented Self will lead eventually to a peaceful coexistence of the self and with others, which is the main purpose of this volume.  Qur’an, 2:201.  Qur’an, 91:8. 5  Qur’an, 13: 53. 6  Qur’an, 13: 53. 7  Qur’an, 89:27. 3 4

Index1

A Abraham, 61, 62, 74, 278, 279 Abulafia, Abraham, 12, 17, 34 Adam and Eve, 322, 325–327 African migrant narratives, 243–245, 247–255, 247n19, 257–259 African migration to the U.S., 242, 243, 254, 259 Akiba, Rabbi, 68 Aks ạ yamatinirdes á sūtra, 162 al-A‘ra ̄f, 327 Albert of Mainz, 96 Al-Fana, 205–218 Al-Insān al-Ka ̄mil (Perfect Human), 324–326 Al-Nisā, 318, 324 Al-Tariqah al-Muhammadiyyah, 286, 288 Al-Tawba, 326

Anatman, 228 An-Na‘im, 317n18, 318n22, 318n24, 319n26 Ansari, Abdullah, 79 ‘Aqd, 317 Aquinas, Thomas, 159 Arbitration, 318 Attar, Fariduddin, 79, 80 B Baika, 51, 52 Bak, Samuel, 11, 18–25 Basho, 42 Bastami, Bayazid, 80, 80n12 Benedictine evangelicalism, 91–106 Bernard of Clairvaux, 226, 231 Bhittai, Shah Abdul Latif, 271 Al-Bistami, Abu Yazid, 266

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 M. Shafiq, T. Donlin-Smith (eds.), Mystical Traditions, Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Study of Mysticism, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-27121-2

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INDEX

Bodhidharma, 227 Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, 169–184 Major Life of St. Francis, 179, 182 Mind’s Road Into God, 169–184 Bonsai, 36 Book of Genesis, 63 Books of the Creatures, 169–184 Brethren of Purity, 170, 173–177 Brotherhood, 302–308, 310 Buber, Martin, 236, 237 Buddhism, 39, 133, 139, 143–148 Al-Bukhari, 277 C Calligraphy, 36, 39 “The Case of the Animals against Man before the King of the Jinn,” 170 Cassian, John, 102 Cave paintings, 17 Celibacy, 314 Chaim of Volozhin, 69 Chanoyu (tea ceremony), 36, 42 Christian mysticism, 15 Cloud of Unknowing, 231 Communities of friendship, 183 Consent, 318 Creation, 325 Cruz, Gemma T., 242, 243, 255–259, 258n49 Cupitt, Don, 131–149 radical christianity, 132, 138–139, 143 relationship with Buddhism, 133 relationship with mysticism, 136, 137 Customary, 320 D Dark Night of the Soul, 242, 252–254, 252n31 De Principiis, 153, 155

Desert Fathers, 101, 102, 225 Deus ex machina, 175, 175n11 Dharma, 161–164 Dhat, 191, 191n14, 194, 200, 201n42 Dhikr, 269–271, 270n34, 300 Divine, 325 Divine law, 155 Divine love, 115, 117–119, 126 Divine reality, 210 Divinity, 321n31, 321n32 Divorce, 316, 318, 325–328 Dogen, 41, 50, 146 Dower, 320 E Eckhart, Meister, 137, 189, 199, 202, 205–218, 225, 232, 232n34, 232n36 Ecstasy, 13, 15, 16 Ein Sof, 64, 65 Enlightenment, 36, 38, 47, 48, 50, 51 See also Satori Enso, 37–39, 38n5 Equality, 315 Eschatological politics, 277–294 Exemplarism, 171 F Family Law, 311 Fluehr-Lobban, Carolyn, 317, 317n19 Forgiveness, 303, 307, 308 Fujimura, Makoto, 11, 28–34, 30n16 Fulfillment of the soul, 69 Fusūs al-ḥikam, 324n49 G Gaon, Rav Saadia, 62 Gender inequality, 312, 315–316

 INDEX 

Al-Ghazali, Abu Hamid, 266, 272, 281, 284, 285, 295–310, 315, 319 On the Duties of Brotherhood, 295–310 The Revival of Religious Sciences, 296, 300, 301 God’s presence in nature, 180, 183 God’s unity, 58, 67 Goethe, Johann Von, 85 Gregory the Great, 102, 103 H Hadı ̄ṯ, 325 Hafiz, Shams al-din, 266 Hagiga, Masechet, 66, 68, 73 Haiku poetry, 36, 42 Hakuin, 37 Hanh, Thich Nhat, 38, 38n5 Haqı ̄qa, 311–328 Haqq, 188, 192, 194 Al-Haqqani, Mawhlana Sheikh Muhammad Nazim, 109–127 relationship with Jewish people, 122, 123 Hashim, Abu, 265 Helmer, Christine, 93 Hermeneutics, 151, 158, 162, 165 Hesychasm, 225, 270n32 Hildegard of Bingen/Hildegard von Bingen, 15, 231 Hisamatsu, Shin’ichi, 41 Holocaust, 18–20, 22, 23 Al-Huǧwı ̄rı ̄, 318 I Ibn Abil-Khair, Abu Said, 272 Ibn al-Farid, Umar, 273

337

Ibn Arabi, Muhyiddin, 17, 187, 187n2, 189–192, 194–203, 205–218, 265, 273, 275, 285, 286, 314, 324 See also Muhyi al-Din ibn ‘Arabi Ibn Gabirol, Solomon, 63 Ibn Idris, Sheikh Ahmad, 277–294 Ibn Kathir, 277 Identity, 223–237 Ikebana, 36, 45 Insan kamil, 285 Insan-e-Kameel, 188, 188n3, 189, 197, 202 Interfaith movement, v Interreligiosity, 187, 188, 190, 192, 196, 198, 199, 202, 203 Interreligious studies, 207, 223 Islamic brotherhoods, 279, 283, 284 Islamic law, 317 Islamic marriage, 311–328 Islamic mystical poetry, 264 Islamic mysticism, 226, 280, 283–285 J Al-Ja’fari, Salih, 289 Jami, Abdur-Rahman, 271 Jantzen, Grace, 230–233, 232n34 Al-Jazuli, Muhammad ibn Sulayman, 287 Jesus of Nazareth, 15–17 Jewish mysticism, 14, 21, 29, 53–75 Jihad, 277–294 Jinni, 173, 174, 182 John of the Cross, 225, 242, 243, 254, 256, 258, 259 Dark Night of the Soul, 242, 252–254, 252n31 Jung, Carl Gustav, 80

338 

INDEX

K Kabbalah, 15, 18–25, 18n9, 30, 31, 34, 56n3, 59, 60, 64, 69n23, 71, 72n30, 73, 75n32 See also Kabbalistic Kabbalistic, 14, 18, 23, 30, 31 Kafā’a, 319, 320 Khan, Hazrat Inayat, 265, 270 Khayal, 200, 200n39 Khurasani, Khaki, 269 Kiefer, Anselm, 11, 18–25, 21n12, 28 Kūohera, 248, 253 Kyudo, 36 L Lacan, Jacques, 89, 134 Ladder of descent, 92–93, 96, 98, 103, 104 Lascaux, France, 17 Lectio divina, 152, 153 Legislation, 326 Levinas, Emmanuel, 236 Logemann, Jane, 11, 25–27 Logos, 156, 158, 165, 292 Love mysticism, 225, 226 Luria, Isaac, 56n3, 65 Lutheran, 93 Luther, Martin, 91–101, 104, 106 academic work, 95 childhood, 94 95 Theses, 94–96 See also Lutheran Luzzato, Moshe Haim, 58 M Madhyamaka school of thought, 160 Mahmoud, Mohamed A., 320, 321n31, 321n32 Mahr (dowery), 317, 319, 320

Al-Makkı ̄, Abū Ṭ ālib, 314 Malchut, 59, 64n15 Al Malik, Abd, 275 Mannermaa, Tuomo, 97 Ma’rifa, 191–195, 199, 201 Marriage, 314, 317, 328 Martin, Victoria, 11, 28–34 Mary, 213 Maslow, Abraham, 82 Maximos the Confessor, 151–167 Maya, 200 Melchisedek, 278 Merkavah, 28, 29 Mevlana, 78, 80–89 Midrash, 15 Migration, 241–259 Migration theology, 241, 242 Mitzvot, 59, 59n9, 65 Morinaga, Soko, 50, 51 Moses, 201, 203, 203n50 Mosque, 317 Muhaiyaddeen, Bawa, 187, 191, 196, 197, 200n37 Muhammad al-Junayd, Abu’l-­ Qasim, 80 Muhammad (SAW), 190, 190n8, 190n10, 192, 193n19, 203, 277, 279, 281, 283, 285–287, 290, 291, 306, 308, 311–315, 315n8, 320n29, 321, 323–325 Muhyi al-Din ibn ‘Arabi, 205 Muraqaba, 300 Muslim, 317, 317n17 Muslim mysticism, 16 Mysterion, 13–16, 19, 29, 30 Mystical space, 55n1 Mystical theology, 241–243 Mysticism, 11–34, 133, 136–142, 147, 172, 187, 189–193, 195, 199, 206, 207, 216, 223–237

 INDEX 

N Nāgārjuna, 143, 146, 147, 154, 159, 161, 164 Naqsbandi-Haqqani Sufi order, 113 Naqshbandiyya Ṭ ariqa, 109 Nazareth College, viii–x Hickey Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue, 1 Sacred Texts and Human Contexts, ix, x, 1 Neng, Hui, 36 Neo-Platonic, 63 New Atheist, 224 Newman, Barnett, 11, 18–25, 29 Neyār tha texts, 162, 163, 165, 166 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 134, 135, 144 Nirvana, 160–162, 164n35, 165, 166 Noh drama, 36 O Olam HaBa, 72, 74 Olam HaZeh, 69, 70, 71n29, 72, 74 Oneness, 187–193, 189n7, 197, 202, 203 On the Duties of Brotherhood, 295–310 Origen, 153, 155, 156 P Pa, Tsong Kha, 151–167 Perfect Human, 325 Perfect Man, 188, 188n3, 194, 197, 201, 201n43 Philokalia, 152, 153, 166 Plato, 55n1, 75 Plato’s cave, 75 Polished mirror of the heart, 264, 271–274 Polygamous marriage, 315 Pope Benedict XVI, 110, 119–123, 126

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Pope John Paul II, 110, 119, 126 Pope Leo, 96 Postmodernism, 135, 137, 140, 141 Practice, 317 Prayer of the Heart (dhikr), 264, 268–271 Prejudice, 223–237 Protestant Reformation, 95, 96 Q Al-Qaysiyya, Rabi’a al-Adawiyya, 264 Qur’an, 79, 88, 189, 189n6, 193, 193n19, 194, 194n24, 200–202, 200n37, 264, 275, 278, 280–282, 286, 289, 302, 303, 312, 313, 313n3, 323, 323n43, 327 Al-Qurtubi, Shams al-din, 278 Al-Qushairi, 16 R Rabbāni, 112–114, 125 Rabbānism, 110–114, 125 Rabbāniyya, 111 See also Rabbāni; Rabbānism; Ribbiyya Rabiya-al-Addawiya (RA), 187, 193–195, 200n37 Radical humanism, 144 Radical transcendence, 246 Ramchal, 58, 58n7, 67, 69 Religious hatred, 235 Republican Brothers, 311, 312, 314 Republicans, 315–322, 328 The Revival of Religious Sciences, 296, 300, 301 Ribbiyya, 111 Ritschl, Albert, 93 Rothko, Marc, 11, 18–25, 19n11, 29 Rule of St. Benedict, 101–105

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INDEX

Rumi, Jalal ad-Din Muhammad, 12, 16, 17, 32–34, 77–89, 263n1, 266–268, 270, 273–275 oceanic images, 78 S Sacraments, 182 Sacred, 322 Sa‘diyya, 314 Al Ṣāfa, Ikhwān, 169–184 The Rasā’il, 169–184 St. Augustine of Hippo, 102 St. Barnabas of Cyprus, 121–122 St. Benedict of Nursia, 91 St. Catherine of Siena, 15 St. Francis of Assisi, 12, 16, 17, 34, 171n4, 284 St. John the Evangelist, 146 St. Nicholas of Flüe, 111, 120–121, 123 St. Teresa of Avila, 15 Samadi, 37 Samsara, 160, 165 Sana’i, Hakim Abu’l-Majd Majdud, 79 Saqqakhaneh School, 26 Saral, Ahmed, 32, 33 Šarı ̄‘a, 318, 323, 326, 327 Satori, 36, 37, 40, 48, 50, 51 Secularity, 17 Sefirot, 56n3, 64, 64n15, 65, 69, 71 Self-actualization, 82–84 Self (dhat), 211 Sen-no-Rikyu, 45 Sephirot, 31 Servitude (‘Ubuda), 205 Shaikh, 314 Sharia, 303, 311–328 Shechina, 62, 64 Sin, 181, 183 Slavehood (‘Ubudiyya), 205 Socio-legal, 314 Solar living, 136, 145, 146

Soul, 79–89 Spirit, 80, 88 Spirituality of ascent, 256, 257 Spirituality of pilgrimage, 255, 256, 258, 259 Sudan, 317, 317n17, 317n19, 328 Sudanese, 311 Sufi, 16, 26, 26n14, 311, 314, 317, 324, 328 See also Sufism Sufism, 16, 26, 77–79, 88, 113, 189, 194, 195, 208, 226, 227n17, 265, 265n6, 266, 268, 268n24, 272, 274, 275, 296, 299, 302, 313n2, 314 See also Sufi Sumie ink painting, 36, 41, 42 Sunna Muhammadiyyah, 285–287, 291 S ́ūnyatā, 160, 163, 164, 166 Swartz, Beth Ames, 11, 28–34 Symbols, 324, 328 T Ṭ āhā, Maḥmūd Muḥammad, 311–328, 312n1, 316n13, 318n20, 320n28, 322n37, 322n38, 323n43, 323n46, 324n48, 325n50, 325n53, 325n54, 326n55, 326n57, 327n58, 327n59 Tanavoli, Parviz, 11, 25–28 Tanya, 57, 59 Taqwa, 188, 189n7, 191, 194, 197, 202 Tasawwuf, 286, 289 Taṭwı̄r šarı̄‘a, 316n13, 318n23, 320n27, 323n46, 325n50, 327n58 Tawakkul, 188, 188n5, 189n7, 191, 194, 197 Tawheed, 188, 189, 189n7, 191–194, 197, 201, 203

 INDEX 

Tawhid, 206–208, 313 Tea ceremony, 36, 42, 43, 45, 49 See also Chanoyu Teresa of Avila, 225 Terrorism, 224, 225 Theodicy, 57, 57n6, 68 Theōria and praxis, 157 Thomas, Edward, 328n62 Thou-Other, 237 Tibetan Buddhism, 159, 161 Tønnessen, Liv, 322n40 Torah, 14, 23 Transcendence of God (tanzih), 190 U Umdurmān, 323n43 Unification, 217 Universal contingency, 143 Upāyakaus á lya, 163 V Van Gogh, Vincent, 140n15 Venus of Willendorf, 17 Visual art, 11–34

Vital, Chaim, 66 Vivekananda, Swami, 233 Volf, Miraslov, 91, 92, 105 W The Way of God, 58 Wedding, 317 Wisdom tales, 193, 198 Women’s rights, 312, 315 Y YHVH, 14 See also Divine name Yochai, Shimon Bar, 55, 55n1, 56n3, 74, 75 Yun, Hsu, 37 Z Zāhir, 323 Zawāg ̌, 317, 322n37 Zen Buddhism, 225, 227 Zohar, 54, 55, 56n3, 59, 61–65, 67, 72, 74

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