The Sufi Doctrine of Rumi · 2016-10-23 · Love: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi. Lewis thinks that it is “an important advance in our knowledge of Rūmī’s theosophy” (Rumi,

World Wisdom

The Library ofPerennial Philosophy

The Library of Perennial Philosophy isdedicated to the exposition of thetimeless Truth underlying the diversereligions. This Truth, often referred toas the Sophia Perennis—or PerennialWisdom—finds its expression in therevealed Scriptures as well as thewritings of the great sages and theartistic creations of the traditionalworlds.

The Perennial Philosophy provides the

intellectual principles capable ofexplaining both the formalcontradictions and the transcendentunity of the great religions.

Ranging from the writings of the greatsages of the past, to the perennialistauthors of our time, each series of ourLibrary has a different focus. As awhole, they express the innerunanimity, transforming radiance, andirreplaceable values of the greatspiritual traditions.

The Sufi Doctrine of Rūmī: IllustratedEdition appears as one of our selectionsin the Spiritual Masters: East & Westseries.

Spiritual Masters:East & West Series

This series presents the writings ofgreat spiritual masters of the past andpresent from both East and West.Carefully selected essential writings ofthese sages are combined withbiographical information, glossaries oftechnical terms, historical maps, andpictorial and photographic art in orderto communicate a sense of theirrespective spiritual climates.

The Sufi Doctrine of Rūmī: IllustratedEdition

© 2005 World Wisdom, Inc.

All rights reserved.No part of this book may be used or

reproducedin any manner without written

permission,except in critical articles and reviews.

Book design by Susana MarínCover art: Persian miniature from

Bukhārā, 16th century

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chittick, William C.The Sufi doctrine of Rumi / William

C. Chittick ; foreword by SeyyedHossein Nasr.--Illustrated ed.

p. cm. --(Spiritual masters. Eastand West series)Includes index.ISBN-10: 0-941532-88-7 (pbk. : alk.

paper)ISBN-13: 978-0-941532-88-4 (pbk. :

alk. paper)1. Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, Maulana, 1207-

1273. 2. Sufism--Doctrines. I. Title. II.Series.BP189.7.M42C48 2005297.4’092--dc22

2005005943

Printed on acid-free paper in China.

For information address WorldWisdom, Inc.

P.O. Box 2682, Bloomington, Indiana47402-2682

www.worldwisdom.com

ForewordThanks to the translation of most of theworks of Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī intoEnglish from the eighteenth century tothe present day by such scholars as Sir

William Jones, E.H. Whinfield, J.Redhouse, and especially R.A.Nicholson and A.J. Arberry, followedin recent years by more popularAmerican translations by ColemanBarks and others, this peerless Sufipoet and sage is now well known in theEnglish-speaking world. He is in factone of the most popular poets thesedays in America. But most of thestudies devoted to him in Westernlanguages have been concerned withliterary and historical aspects of hisworks and only occasionally with ananalysis of the symbolism of hislanguage or the inner meaning of histales and narratives. Rarely has therebeen a study of his metaphysical

teachings in a succinct and penetratingmanner.

It is true that Rūmī did not write directmetaphysical expositions as did an Ibn‘Arabī or Sadr al-Dīn Qunyawī. ButJalāl alDīn was a metaphysician of thefirst order and dealt with nearly everygnostic and metaphysical question, butoften in the form of parables,narratives, or other forms of literarydevices and poetic symbols. Tounderstand his metaphysical doctrines,it is necessary to delve into theMathnawī and the Dīwān as well as theFīhi mā fīhi in depth and to extractthose passages which bear directlyupon metaphysics.

In this monograph William Chittick,who has already given us the wonderfulSufi Path of Love dealing with Rūmī,has succeeded in accomplishing such atask at least in so far as it concernscertain major aspects of traditionaldoctrines. The study of Dr. Chittick hasthe great merit, furthermore, ofapproaching the subject from a strictlytraditional point of view untainted bythe modernistic fallacies which havecolored most of the other studiesdevoted so far to this subject inWestern languages.

Some thirty years ago on the occasionof the seven hundredth year of thedeath of Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, Aryamehr

University of Iran was proud to be ableto participate in the internationalcelebration devoted to this toweringfigure by making possible the originalpublication of this treatise. It is atestimony to the valuable nature of thisearly work of Dr. Chittick—who hassince produced so many importantworks on Sufism—that this treatise isnow being reprinted and madeavailable in a beautiful new editionwith illustrations to the lovers of Rūmī,who remains to this day a strong livinginfluence in Persian and Turkishcultures and is now becoming a sourceof spiritual nourishment for seekers theworld over. It is hoped that this andother studies which concern his ever-

living spiritual and intellectualmessage will bring him ever more intothe arena of contemporary life, wherehis teachings have the greatestrelevance to the situation of modernman, faced as he is with the insolubleproblems created by his own ignorance.May the message of Rūmī serve as abeacon of light to dispel the shadowswhich prevent modern man fromseeing even his own image in its trueform, and from knowing who he reallyis.

Seyyed Hossein NasrFormer Chancellor, Aryamehr

University, IranUniversity Professor of Islamic Studies

The George Washington UniversityDhu’l-Hijjah 1425

January 2005

Preface to the

Second EditionThis book was first published in 1974by Aryamehr University in Tehran,where I was an assistant professorteaching Religious Studies. I had justfinished a Ph.D. in Persian literature atTehran University, having written adissertation on ‘Abd al-Rahmān Jāmī, afifteenth century poet and a majorcommentator on Ibn ‘Arabī. Myinterest in Rūmī, however, went backto my undergraduate years. I had spentmost of my senior year in college(1965-66) writing a research paper onhis teachings. I had no knowledge ofPersian, but much of his poetry was

already available in English because ofthe prodigious efforts of the greatBritish orientalists, R. A. Nicholsonand A. J. Arberry.

There were also a number of book-length studies available at that time,but it seemed to me that they largelymissed the point. I was awfully youngto be making such a judgment, but Itrusted my instinct that a number ofscholars—usually classified nowadaysas “traditionalists” or “perennialists”—had made an authentic connection withSufism’s living lineage. In contrast,most of those known as “orientalists”seemed to have no real notion of whatSufism meant to its practitioners, nor

did they take seriously the role ofspirituality in human affairs. Thirty-eight years later, I cannot say that I waswrong. I still think that thetraditionalist authors provide a doorinto the Sufi worldview that is notavailable through other sources.

I filed that undergraduate paper awayfor future reference, and then dusted itoff and revised it thoroughly whenSeyyed Hossein Nasr, then chancellorof Aryamehr University, was lookingfor manuscripts to publish on theoccasion of the celebration of the sevenhundredth anniversary of Rūmī’s death.Neither when I wrote the original, norwhen I published the book, did I have

any idea that Rūmī would soon becomeone of America’s favorite poets. WhatI did understand was that he is the bestEnglish-language primary source forentrance into the rich symbolic worldof Sufism. This is still probably thecase. Nonetheless, despite theenormous popularity he has nowgained, most people who read him donot have the necessary background tounderstand what he is getting at.

At the time I published the book, Ithought it would be a useful tool forthose who wanted to become familiarenough with Rūmī’s worldview tomake good use of the academictranslations then available. Today the

situation is quite different. Nicholsonand Arberry remain relatively unread,but anthologies of Rūmī’s poetry arecommon. Most of these have been puttogether by translators who in fact havelittle or no knowledge of the Persianlanguage but who are adept atrephrasing the academic translations inattractive, contemporary English.These new translations have done agreat service by catching some ofRūmī’s magic and bringing him to theattention of an audience that otherwisewould never have been exposed to him.What they generally fail to do,however, is to provide sufficientcontext to grasp what Rūmī is actuallysaying. For those who know him only

through the popularizing translations,this little book may provide someinsight into his universe of meaning.

Since this book first appeared, therehas been a great upsurge not only inrenditions of Rūmī’s poetry, but also inscholarship. Foremost among scholarlybooks is Annemarie Schimmel’s TheTriumphal Sun (1978), a masterly andthoroughly contextualized study of hisliterary contribution, concepts, andsymbolism. Most recently we haveFranklin Lewis’ excellent survey ofRūmī’s life, times, historical andreligious context, and his literaryinfluence down to the present, Rumi:Past and Present, East and West

(2000). Lewis also provides a thoroughbibliography and an evaluation of thescholarly and popular literature.

In 1983 I published a much longerstudy of Rūmī called The Sufi Path ofLove: The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi.Lewis thinks that it is “an importantadvance in our knowledge of Rūmī’stheosophy” (Rumi, p. 560). I hadwritten The Sufi Doctrine of Rūmīattempting to bring out Rūmī’suniversal message in the context ofIslamic spirituality, but in this newbook I wanted to make full use of hisown words and imagery to clarify theparticularities and specificities of hisapproach.

Already in the Islamic world, from thefourteenth century onward, most ofRūmī’s commentators relied heavily onIbn ‘Arabī’s school of thought toprovide structure to his writings, thesame way that I do in The Sufi Doctrineof Rūmī. Down through the nineteenthcentury this school set the tone formost discussions of Sufism’stheoretical framework. By the time Iset out to write The Sufi Path of Love, Ihad studied everything Rūmī hadwritten in the original languages, and ithad become obvious to me thatinterpreting Rūmī in terms of Ibn‘Arabī is not completely fair to hisperspective, though it is certainlypreferable to methodologies not rooted

in the tradition. I wanted to let himspeak for himself. Unlike most Sufipoets, Rūmī explains the meaning ofhis imagery and symbolism. My taskwas simply to juxtapose various versesand prose passages to let him say whathe wants to say.

In that second book on Rūmī, I usedmy own translations. When I publishedThe Sufi Doctrine of Rūmī nine yearsearlier, I had seen no reason to attemptto improve on the translations ofNicholson and Arberry, since they wereperfectly adequate for the points Iwanted to make. When World Wisdomapproached me about republishing thebook, I was hesitant, not least because I

would have preferred to use my owntranslations and perhaps revise a few ofmy interpretations. Thirty years, afterall, is a long time, and the author ofthis book is in many ways a stranger tome. When I finally sat down and readthe text from beginning to end for thefirst time since it was published, I wassurprised to see that I agree withpractically everything he has to say,though I myself would not say it inexactly the same way. Hence I left thetext untouched, with the exception oftypos and two or three footnotes thatneeded to be brought up to date.

William C. ChittickStony Brook University

26 November 2004

IntroductionJalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, one of the greatestspiritual masters of Islam, is wellknown in the West and next to al-Ghazzālī perhaps the Sufi most studiedby Western orientalists. A good portionof his writings have been translatedinto English, mainly through the effortsof the outstanding British orientalistsR.A. Nicholson and A.J. Arberry.l Butdespite numerous studies of him, untilnow there has been no clear summaryin English of the main points of hisdoctrines and teachings.2 This lacunahas had the result that many

Westerners wishing to be introduced tohis thought are either overwhelmed bythe great mass of his writing availablein English, or, even if possessed of thepatience to read through these works,unable to form a clear picture ofRūmī’s teachings because of his“unsystematic” method of exposition.

The present essay is an attempt to fillthis gap and therefore to provide anintroduction to Rūmī’s doctrine whichit is hoped will facilitate further study.This essay is not offered as acomprehensive analysis of Rūmīteachings, nor is there any attempt toexhaust their innumerableramifications. To claim so would be a

great presumption on my part, evenwere the subject of the study a lessermaster than Rūmī, whose most well-known work, the Mathnawī, has oftenbeen called “the Quran in the Persianlanguage.”3 For, like the Word of Godrevealed to the Arabian prophet, itcontains within itself the essence of allknowledge and science (although itgoes without saying on a lower level ofinspiration). Even on the purelymundane and “academic” level it is acompendium of all of the Islamicsciences, from jurisprudence toastronomy.

My task, therefore, has been to presentplainly and briefly the main points of

Sufi doctrine as expounded in Rūmī’swritings and at the same time to situateSufism within Islam. Obviously, evenwere I qualified to deal with all thedimensions of these few points, athorough study of them would require awork far beyond the scope of thisessay. For this reason in many cases Ihave been able to do no more thanmake a brief allusion to the variousproblems which should be dealt withmore extensively in a fuller study ofRūmī’s thought. However, therelatively large number of authenticexpositions of Sufi doctrine that haveappeared in English over the past fewyears4 enables me to limit myself tomaking reference to them where

appropriate.

Rūmī’s life and works have receivedmuch more competent attention inEnglish than his teachings and there isnothing, therefore, that I can add towhat has already been said.5 However,for the benefit of some readers whomay have no acquaintance withMawlānā (“our Master,” as he iscommonly called in Persian andTurkish), it may be useful to brieflysummarize his life and the importanceof his writings.

Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī was born in Balkh inKhurasan on September 30, 1207, theson of Bahā’ al-Dīn Walad, a man

noted for his learning and himself aSufi.6 In 1219 Bahā’ al-Dīn fled withhis family from Balkh because of theimpending invasion of the Mongols.After several years of wandering hefinally settled in Konia in present-dayTurkey, where he occupied a highreligious office and was given the title“king of the religious scholars” (sultānal-‘ulamā’) . At the death of Bahā’ al-Dīn in 1231, Jalāl al-Dīn succeededhim in his religious function, but it wasnot until after ten years of study that hecould lay claim to being his father’strue successor as a learned scholar heldin high esteem by the Muslimcommunity.

Following in his father’s footsteps,Mawlānā became attracted to Sufismearly in life and became the disciple ofa number of spiritual masters. Perhapsthe most important occurrence in hisspiritual life was his meeting at the ageof thirty-seven with a wandering Sufinamed Shams al-Dīn of Tabriz.7 Thedecisive change which subsequentlyovertook Rūmī is described by his son,Sultān Walad, as follows:

Never for a moment did he ceasefrom listening to music anddancing:Never did he rest by day or night.He had been a mufti : he became apoet.

He had been an ascetic: hebecame intoxicated by Love.’Twas not the wine of the grape:the illumined soul drinks only thewine of Light. 8

For the remaining years of his lifeRūmī was a Sufi who radiated theintoxication of Divine Love. Inaddition to writing (or rather,composing extempore) voluminously,he trained a large number of disciples,from whom was to stem the greatMevlevi order of Sufism. He died onDecember 16, 1273.

There has been unceasing praise forRūmī’s poetry ever since it was first

set down in writing during hislifetime.9 Western orientalists havecalled Rūmī “without doubt the mosteminent Sufi poet whom Persia hasproduced,”10 “the greatest mysticalpoet of Islam,”11 and even “the greatestmystical poet of any age.”12 Aftertranslating the Mathnawī, Nicholsonrepeated this last statement, which hehad first made thirty-five years earlier,for, he asked, “Where else shall wefind such a panorama of universalexistence unrolling itself through Timeinto Eternity?”13

The Mathnawī, a poem of 25,700couplets, contains a great number oframbling stories and anecdotes of

diverse style interspersed withdigressions in which Rūmī usuallyexplains the relevance of the stories tothe spiritual life. The various sectionsof the Mathnawī seem to follow oneanother with no order, but in fact subtlelinks and transitions do lead from onetheme to another. Moreover thesymbolic and metaphoric method ofpresenting Sufi doctrine found in theMathnawī is in many cases the bestway for it to be imparted to aspirantson the spiritual path.14 Rationalanalysis takes away much of thepoetical magic and “alchemical” powerto transform the being of the listenerand reduces the doctrine to coldphilosophy.

Rūmī’s second best known work is theDīwān-i Shams-i Tabrīz, totaling some40,000 couplets, which is a collectionof poems describing the mystical statesand expounding various points of Sufidoctrine. While the Mathnawī tendstowards a didactic approach, the Dīwānis rather a collection of ecstaticutterances. It is well known that mostof the ghazals (or “lyric poems oflove”) of the Dīwān were composedspontaneously by Mawlānā during thesamā‘ or “mystical dance.” This dance,which later came to be known as the“dance of the whirling dervishes,” is anauxiliary means of spiritualconcentration employed by theMevlevi order, a means which, it is

said, was originated by Rūmī himself.

A third work, Fīhi mā fīhi (“In it iswhat is in it”), translated by Arberry asDiscourses of Rūmī, is a collection ofRūmī’s sermons and conversations asrecorded by some of his disciples.

It is my duty here to acknowledge mydebt in all that I have learnedconcerning Sufism to Professor SeyyedHossein Nasr, under whose direction Ihave had the honor to study for the pastfew years, and who, moreover, waskind enough to make numeroussuggestions as to how the present essaycould be improved. I am also indebtedto Messrs. Jean-Claude Petitpierre and

Lynn Bauman for their helpfulsuggestions. A preliminary version ofthe present study was written underProfessor Harold B. Smith of theCollege of Wooster, Wooster, Ohio.

William C. ChittickAryamehr University, Tehran

December 8, 1973

Footnotes1 Earlier scholars such as E. H.Whinfield, J. Redhouse, and C. E.Wilson had translated portions of theMathnawī, but it is Nicholson’s workwhich is a true milestone of

orientalism. He edited and translatedthe whole of the Mathnawī, in sixvolumes, and in addition wrote twovolumes of commentary, London,Luzac and Co., 1925-40. Arberryretranslated some of the stories fromthe Mathnawī as independent units(without Rūmī’s continual didacticdigressions) in Tales from theMathnawī, London, 1963, and MoreTales from the Mathnawī, London,1968. Nicholson had earlier edited andtranslated a few poems from theDīwān: Selected Poems from the DīvāniShamsi Tabrīz, Cambridge UniversityPress, 1898, and Arberry continued thistask, first in The Rubā‘īyāt of Jalāl ad-Dīn Rūmī, London, 1949, and more

recently in Mystical Poems of Rūmī,Chicago, 1968, a selection of 200ghazals. Arberry also translatedselections from one of Rūmī’s proseworks, Fīhi mā fīhi, as Discourses ofRūmī, London, John Murray, 1961.

The most important publications of thePersian texts of Rūmī’s works includethe following: the Mathnawī byNicholson, as mentioned above,reprinted several times in Tehran; theDīwān, critically edited by the lateBadī‘ al-Zamān Furūzānfar in tenvolumes, including a glossary and anindex of verses, Tehran, 1336-46 (allIslamic dates are A.H. solar unlessotherwise stated); Fīhi mā fīhi, edited

by Furūzānfar, Tehran, 1330; andMajālis-i sab‘ah (“Seven Gatherings”)and Maktūbāt (“Letters”), both ofwhich were edited by H. Ahmed RemziAkyurek and published, in twovolumes, by M. Nafiz Uzluk, Istanbul,1937. The Majālis-i sab‘ah wasrepublished in the introduction of theedition of the Mathnawī edited byMuhammad Ramadānī, Tehran, Kulāla-yi Khāwar, reprinted, 1973. For acomplete bibliography of the publishedtexts of Rūmī’s works, as well astranslations and studies in alllanguages, see M. Sadiq Behzādi,Bibliography of Mowlavī, Tehran,1973.

2 In French there is the excellent recentstudy by E. Meyerovitch: Mystique etpoésie en Islam: Djalāl-ud-Dīn Rūmī etl’ordre des derviches tourneurs, Paris,1972. Among works in English whichhave attempted without much successto elucidate Rūmī’s doctrine areKhalifa Abdul Hakim’s TheMetaphysics of Rūmī, Lahore, 1959 andAfzal Iqbal’s The Life and Thought ofRūmī, Lahore, 1955, both of whichhopelessly confuse the issue byreferring to categories of modernWestern philosophy which have norelevance to Rūmī. A.R. Arasteh’sstudy, Rūmī the Persian: Rebirth inCreativity and Love, Lahore, 1965,contains some interesting material,

particularly in showing how modernpsychology fails to deal with thehealthy and whole psyche. However,the author follows his personal opinionand the biases of psychoanalysis indealing with Sufi doctrine and, likemost modernized orientals, shows anastounding lack of both a sense ofproportion and an understanding of themeaning of the sacred.

3 E. G. Browne among others haspointed this out, in A Literary Historyof Persia, 4 vols., London, 1902-24,vol. 2, p. 519.

4 These include T. Burckhardt, AnIntroduction to Sufi Doctrine, Lahore,

1959; S.H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages,Cambridge (Mass.), 1964, chapter 3;Nasr, Ideals and Realities of Islam,London, 1966; Nasr, Sufi Essays,London, 1972; M. Lings, A Sufi Saintof the Twentieth Century, London,1971; and the works of F. Schuon,especially Understanding Islam,London, 1962 and Dimensions of Islam,London, 1969.

5 See Browne, A Literary History ofPersia; Iqbal, Life and Thought ofRūmī; the article “Djalāl al-Dīn Rūmī”in the new Encyclopedia of Islam;Nicholson, Rūmī: Poet and Mystic,London, 1950; and J. Rypka, His- toryof Iranian Literature, Dordrecht, 1968,

pp. 250-52. The most importantmaterial in Persian includes Aflākī’sManāqib al-‘ārifīn, ed. by T. Yazici, 2vols., Ankara, 1959-61, which hadearlier been translated into French byC. Huart, Les saints des derviches-tourneurs, 2 vols., Paris, 1918; and thestill fundamental study of Furūzānfar,Risālah dar tahqīq-i ahwāl wa zindigī-yi Mawlānā Jalāl al-Dīn Muhammad,Tehran, 2nd ed., 1333 (1954). Alsouseful is E. Meyerovitch’s study citedabove, which in addition contains agood bibliography. S.H. Nasr’s recentwork, Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī: SupremePersian Poet and Sage, Tehran, 1974,is an excellent survey of Rūmī’s lifeand works and the importance of his

doctrine.

6 Baha’ Walad’s Ma‘ārif was edited intwo volumes by Furūzānfar, Tehran,1333-38.

7 Shams’ Maqālāt was recentlypublished in a rather uncritical editionby A. Khwushniwīs, Tehran, 1349.Shams is an enigmatic figure in Sufismabout whom little is known. S.H. Nasrhas pointed out that Shams’ role inRūmī’s life was to precipitate theremarkable flowering of spiritualityand grace represented by the Dīwān,and that the extraordinary nature ofShams’ personality is recognizedsymbolically by the Islamic

community in the large number oftombs, all places of pilgrimage, whichare attributed to him throughout theIslamic world (Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, pp.22-23).

8 Quoted by Nicholson, Rūmī: Poet andMystic, p. 20.

9 In Persia today Rūmī is stillconsidered the greatest Sufi poet andhas attracted a great deal of attentionamong contemporary scholars. HisMathnawī continues to play a majorrole in Persia’s intellectual life. Anindication of its importance is thenumber of commentaries upon itpublished within the last six or seven

years. Among the most important ofthese are Furūzānfar’s three volumework, Tehran, 1346-48, cut short atverse 3012 of the Mathnawī’s firstbook by the author’s death; J. Humā’ī’scommentary on the story of the“forbidden fortress” in the sixth book:Tafsīr-i mathnawī-yi Mawlawī. Dāstān-i qal‘ah-yi dhat al-suwar yā dizh-ihūsh-rubā, Tehran, 1349; M. T.Ja‘farī’s Tafsīr wa naqd wa tahlīl-iMathnawī-yi Jalāl al-Dīn Balkhī,Tehran, 1349 onward, of which eightvolumes of over 500 pages each haveappeared to date of a projectedeighteen volumes; and the Persiantranslation by ‘Ismat Sattār-zādah ofAnqarawī’s Turkish commentary:

Sharh-i kabīr-i Anqarawī barMathnawī, Tehran, 1348 onward, ofwhich four volumes have appeared,covering the first and second books.

10 Browne, A Literary History ofPersia, vol. 2, p. 515.

11 Arberry, Discourses, p. ix.

12 Nicholson, Selected Poems, preface.

13 The Mathnawī, vol. 6, xiii.

14 Persian Sufism very often followedthis method, and many orders, such asthe Ni‘matullāhī, continue to do so tothe present day. Listening to the words

of a Sufi master, always interspersedwith lines of poetry to carry home thepoints made, is a constant reminderthat Sufi doctrine is first and foremostdidactic, an aid on the spiritual Path,and not some philosophical system tobe learned for its own sake.

SI. Sufism and Islam

ufism is the most universalmanifestation of the innerdimension of Islam; it is the

way by which man transcends his ownindividual self and reaches God.1 Itprovides within the forms of theIslamic revelation the means for anintense spiritual life directed towardsthe transformation of man’s being andthe attainment of the spiritual virtues;ultimately it leads to the vision of God.It is for this reason that many Sufisdefine Sufism by the saying of theProphet of Islam concerning spiritual

virtue (ihsān): “It is that thou shouldstworship God as if thou sawest Him, forif thou seest Him not, verily He seeththee.”

Islam is primarily a “way ofknowledge,”2 which means that itsspiritual method, its way of bridgingthe illusory gap between man and God—“illusory,” but none the less as realas man’s own ego—is centered uponman’s intelligence. Man is conceivedof as a “theomorphic” being, a beingcreated in the image of God, andtherefore as possessing the three basicqualities of intelligence, free-will, andspeech. Intelligence is central to thehuman state and gains a saving quality

through its content, which in Islam isthe Shahādah or “profession of faith”:Lā ilāha illallāh, “There is no god butGod”; through the Shahādah mancomes to know the Absolute and thenature of reality, and thus also the wayto salvation. The element of will,however, must also be taken intoaccount, because it exists and onlythrough it can man choose to conformto the Will of the Absolute. Speech, orcommunication with God, becomes themeans—through prayer in general or inSufism through quintessential prayer orinvocation (dhikr) — of actualizingman’s awareness of the Absolute andof leading intelligence and will back totheir essence.3

The Shahādah (calligraphy by KhurshidAlam)

Through the spiritual methods of Sufism the Shahādah is integrally realizedwithin the being of the knower. The“knowledge” of Reality which resultsfrom this realization, however, must

not be confused with knowledge as it isusually understood in everydaylanguage, for this realized knowledgeis “To know what is, and to know it insuch a fashion as to be oneself, trulyand eff ectively, what one knows.”4 Ifthe human ego, with which fallen manusually identifies himself, were aclosed system, such knowledge wouldbe beyond man’s reach. However, inthe view of Sufi sm, like othertraditional metaphysical doctrines, theego is only a transient mode of man’strue and transcendent self. Thereforethe attainment of metaphysicalknowledge in its true sense, or“spiritual realization,” is the removalof the veils which separate man from

God and from the full reality of hisown true nature. It is the means ofactualizing the full potentialities of thehuman state.

Metaphysical knowledge in the sensejust described can perhaps bedesignated best by the term “gnosis”(‘irfān), which in its original sense andas related to Sufi sm means “Wisdommade up of knowledge and sanctity.”5

Many Sufis speak of gnosis as beingsynonymous with love, but “love” intheir vocabulary excludes thesentimental colorings usuallyassociated with this term in currentusage. The term love is employed bythem because it indicates more clearly

than any other word that in gnosis thewhole of one’s being “knows” theobject and not just the mind; andbecause love is the most directreflection in this world, or the truest“symbol” in the traditional sense, ofthe joy and beatitude of the spiritualworld. Moreover, in Sufi sm, as inother traditions, the instrument ofspiritual knowledge or gnosis is theheart, the center of man’s being;6

gnosis is “existential” rather thanpurely mental.

Rūmī indicates the profound nature oflove (‘ishq or mahabbah), a naturewhich can completely transform thehuman substance, by saying that in

reality love is an attribute of God7 andthat through it man is freed from thelimitations which define his state in theworld.

He (alone) 8 whose garment isrent by a (mighty) love is purgedentirely of covetousness anddefect.

Hail, O Love that bringest us goodgain—thou art the physician of allour ills,

The remedy of our pride andvainglory, our Plato and ourGalen (I, 22-24).

The interrelationship between love andknowledge is clearly expressed in thefollowing passage:

By love dregs become clear; by

love pains become healing,

By love the dead is made living. . ..

This love, moreover, is the resultof knowledge: who (ever) sat infoolishness on such a throne?

On what occasion did defi cientknowledge give birth to this love?Defi cient knowledge gives birthto love, but (only love) for thatwhich is really lifeless (II, 1530-33).

In his commentary on these versesNicholson recognizes that Rūmī doesnot diff erentiate between gnosis and

love:

Rūmī . . . . does not make any . . . .distinctions between the gnostic(‘ārif ) and the lover (‘āshiq ): forhim, knowledge and love areinseparable and coequal aspectsof the same reality.9

Rūmī describes the spiritualtransformation brought about by loveas follows:

This is Love: to fly heavenwards,

To rend, every instant, a hundredveils ( Dīwān , p. 137).

Love is that flame which, when itblazes up, consumes everything

else but the Beloved (V, 588).

And therefore,

When love has no care for him[the traveler on the spiritualpath], he is left as a bird withoutwings. Alas for him then! (I, 31).

Sufism deals first and foremost withthe inward aspects of that which isexpressed outwardly or exoterically inthe Sharī‘ah, the Islamic religious law.Hence it is commonly called “Islamicesotericism.”10 In the view of theSufis, exoteric Islam is concerned withlaws and injunctions which directhuman action and life in accordance

with the divine Will, whereas Sufismconcerns direct knowledge of God andrealization— or literally, the “makingreal” and actual—of spiritual realitieswhich exist both within the externalform of the Revelation and in the beingof the spiritual traveler (sālik) . TheSharī‘ah is directly related to Sufi sminasmuch as it concerns itself withtranslating these same realities intolaws which are adapted to theindividual and social orders.

Exotericism by defi nition must belimited in some sense, for it addressesitself to a particular humanity and aparticular psychological and mentalcondition—even though its means of

addressing itself is to some degreeuniversalized and expanded throughtime and space to encompass a largesegment of the human race.Esotericism also addresses itself toparticular psychological types, but it isopen inwardly towards the Infi nite in amuch more direct manner thanexotericism, since it is concernedprimarily with overcoming all thelimitations of the individual order. Thevery forms which somehow limitexotericism become for esotericism thepoint of departure towards theunlimited horizons of the spiritualworld. Or again, exotericism concernsitself with forms of a sacred nature andhas for its goal the salvation of the

individual by means of these veryforms, whereas esotericism isconcerned with the spirit that dwellswithin sacred forms and has as its goalthe transcending of all individuallimits.

With these points in mind it should beclear why the Sufis acknowledge theabsolute necessity of the Sharī‘ah andin general are among its fi rmestsupporters.11 They recognize that toreach the indwelling spirit of a doctrineor a sacred form (such as a rite or awork of art), one must fi rst have thatexternal form, which is the expressionof the Truth which that form manifests,but in modes conformable to the

conditions of this world. Moreover, thevast majority of believers are notcapable of reaching the inner meaningthat lies within the revealed forms, andso they must attain salvation byconforming to the exoteric dimensionof the revelation.

Here it may be helpful to quote fromIbn ‘Arabī. This great Andalusian sageof the 7th/13th century (d. 1240) wasthe first to formulate explicitly manyof the metaphysical and cosmologicaldoctrines of Sufism. Rūmī, who lived ageneration later than Ibn ‘Arabī, was,as S.H. Nasr has pointed out,12

certainly acquainted with Ibn ‘Arabī’sthought through the intermediary of

Sadr al-Dīn Qunyawī. Qunyawī was Ibn‘Arabī’s stepson and the foremostexpositor of his school in the easternlands of Islam and at the same time oneof Rūmī’s close friends and the leaderof the prayers (imām) at the mosquewhere Rūmī prayed. In any case, themetaphysics which underlies Rūmī’swritings is basically the same as that ofIbn ‘Arabī—to the extent that certainlater Sufis have called the Mathnawī“the Futūhāt al-Makkiyyah in Persianverse,” referring to Ibn ‘Arabī’smonumental work. Therefore here andin a number of other places, especiallyin chapter two in the case of certainpoints of metaphysics where Ibn ‘Arabīis much more explicit than Rūmī, I

have taken the liberty of quoting Ibn‘Arabī’s more theoretical and abstractformulations to make clear theunderlying basis of Rūmī’s doctrine.

To return to the subject at hand, Ibn‘Arabī points out that traditions havetheir exoteric and esoteric sides inorder that all believers may worship totheir capacities.

The prophets spoke in thelanguage of outward things and ofthe generality of men, for they hadconfidence in the understanding ofhim who had knowledge and theears to hear. They took intoaccount only the common people,

because they knew the station ofthe People of Understanding. . . .They made allowances for those ofweak intelligence and reasoningpower, those who were dominatedby passion and naturaldisposition.

In the same way, the scienceswhich they brought were clothedin robes appropriate to the mostinferior understandings, in orderthat he who had not the power ofmystical penetration would stop atthe robes and say, “How beautifulare they!”, and consider them asthe ultimate degree. But theperson of subtle understanding

who penetrates as one must intothe depths after the pearls ofwisdom will say, “These are robesfrom the King.” He willcontemplate the measure of therobes and the cloth they are madefrom and will come to know themeasure of Him who is clothed inthe robes. He will discover aknowledge which does not accrueto him who knows nothing of thesethings.13

In a similar vein Rūmī says thefollowing:

The perfect speaker is like onewho distributes trays of viands,

and whose table is filledwiThevery sort of food,

So that no guest remains withoutprovisions, (but) each one gets his(proper) nourishment separately:

(Such a speaker is) like the Quranwhich is sevenfold in meaning,and in which there is food for theelect and for the vulgar (III, 1895-97).

Orientalists commonly speak of thederivation of Sufism from non-Islamicsources and of its historicaldevelopment. From a certain point ofview there has indeed been borrowingof forms of doctrinal expression fromother traditions and a great amount of

development.14 But to conclude fromthis in the manner of many scholarsthat Sufi sm gradually came into beingunder the infl uence of a foreigntradition or from a hodgepodge ofborrowed doctrine is to completelymisunderstand its nature, i.e., that inessence it is a metaphysics and meansof spiritual realization derived ofnecessity from the Islamic revelationitself.15

Gathering of Sufis

For the Sufis themselves one of theclearest proofs of the integrally Islamicnature of Sufism is that its practicesare based on the model of the ProphetMuhammad. For Muslims it is self-evident that in Islam no one has beencloser to God—or, if one prefers, noone has attained a more completespiritual realization—than the Prophethimself, for by the very fact of hisprophecy he is the Universal Man andthe model for all sanctity in Islam. Forthe same reason he is the ideal whomall Sufi s emulate and the founder of allthat later became crystallized withinthe Sufi orders.16

According to Sufi teachings, the pathof spiritual realization can only beundertaken and traversed under theguidance of a spiritual master;someone who has already traversed thestages of the Path to God and who has,moreover, been chosen by Heaven tolead others on the Way.17 When theProphet of Islam was alive he initiatedmany of his Companions into thespiritual life by transferring to themthe “Muhammadan grace” (al-barakatal-Muhammadiyyah) and giving themtheoretical and practical instructionsnot meant for all believers. Certain ofthese Companions were in their ownturn given the function of initiatingothers. The Sufi orders which came

into being in later centuries stem fromthese Companions and latergenerations of disciples who receivedthe particular instructions originallyimparted by the Prophet. Without thechain (silsilah) of grace and practicereaching back to the Prophet no Sufiorder can exist.

God’s way is exceedingly fearful,blocked and full of snow. He [theProphet] was the first to risk hislife, driving his horse andpioneering the road. Whoevergoes on this road, does so by hisguidance and guarding. Hediscovered the road in the firstplace and set up waymarks

everywhere (Discourses , p. 232).

In the Sufi view of Islamic history, thevery intensity of the spiritual life at thetime of the Prophet did not permit acomplete separation on the outwardand formal plane between the exotericand esoteric dimensions of thetradition. Both the Sharī‘ah and theTarīqah (the spiritual path) existedfrom the beginning. But only aftergradual degeneration and corruption—the tendency of the collectivity tobecome increasingly diversified andforgetful—was it necessary to makecertain formulations explicit in order torefute the growing number of errorsand to breathe new life into a

decreasing power of spiritualintuition.18

Rūmī was fully aware that on thecollective level spiritual awareness andcomprehension had dimmed since thetime of the Prophet:

Amongst the Companions (of theProphet) there was scarcelyanyone that knew the Quran byheart [which is not such a rareaccomplishment in the Islamicworld today, whereas it must havebeen common at the time of Rūmī],though their souls had a greatdesire (to commit it to memory),

Because … its kernel had filled(them) and had reached maturity(III, 1386-87).

It is related that in the time of theProphet . . . . any of theCompanions who knew by heartone Sura [chapter of the Quran]

or half a Sura was called a greatman . . . . since they devoured theQuran. To devour a maund ofbread or two maunds is certainly agreat accomplishment. But peoplewho put bread in their mouthswithout chewing it and spit it outagain can “devour” thousands oftons in that way ( Discourses , p.94).

If elaborated and systematized formsof Sufi doctrine were not present inearly Islamic history, it is because suchformulation was not necessary for thespiritual life. The synthetic andsymbolic presentation of metaphysicaltruths found in the Quran and the

hadīth (the sayings of the Prophet) wasperfectly adequate to guide thosepracticing the disciplines of theTarīqah. There was no need fordetailed and explicit formulation. Itwas not until the third Islamiccentury/ninth Christian century in factthat the Tarīqah became clearlycrystallized into a separate entity, atthe same time that the Sharī‘ahunderwent a similar process.19

As for the similarities which existbetween the formulation of Sufidoctrine and the doctrines of othertraditions, in certain cases these aredue to borrowings from othertraditional sources. But here again it is

a question of adopting a convenientmode of expression and not ofemulating inner spiritual states; in anycase such states cannot be achievedthrough simple external borrowing. Itwould be absurd to suppose that a Sufifamiliar with the doctrines ofNeoplatonism, for example, who sawthat the truths they expressed wereexcellent descriptions of his own innerstates of realized knowledge, wouldcompletely reject the Neoplatonicformulations simply because of theirsource.20

In Sufism, doctrine has no right to exist“for its own sake,” for it is essentially aguide on the Path. It is a symbolic

prefiguration of the knowledge to beattained through spiritual travail, andsince this knowledge is not of a purelyrational order but is concernedultimately with the vision of the Truth,which is Absolute and Infinite and inits essence beyond forms, it cannot berigidly systematized. Indeed, there arecertain aspects of Sufi doctrine whichmay be formulated by one Sufi in amanner quite different from, or evencontradictory to, the formulations ofanother. It is even possible to find whatappears outwardly as contradictionswithin the writings of a single Sufi.Such apparent contradictions, however,are only on the external and discursivelevel and represent so many different

ways of viewing the same reality.There is never a contradiction of anessential order which would throw anambiguity upon the nature of thetranscendent Truth.

Doctrine is a key to open the door ofgnosis and a guide to lead the traveleron the Path. Thus, for different people,different formulations may be used.Once the goal of the Path has beenreached, doctrine is “discarded,” forthe Sufi in question is the doctrine inhis inmost reality and he himselfspeaks with “the voice of the Truth.”

After direct vision theintermediary is an inconvenience(IV, 2977).

These indications of the way arefor the traveler who at everymoment becomes lost in the desert.

For them that have attained (tounion with God) there is nothing(necessary) except the eye (of thespirit) and the lamp (of intuitivefaith): they have no concern withindications (to guide them) or witha road (to travel by).

If the man that is united (withGod) has mentioned someindication, he has mentioned (it)in order that the dialecticians mayunderstand (his meaning).

For a newborn child the fathermakes babbling sounds, though hisintellect may make a survey of the(whole) world. . . .

For the sake of teaching thattongue-tied (child), one must gooutside of one’s own language(customary manner of speech).

You must come into (adopt) hislanguage, in order that he maylearn knowledge and science fromyou.

All the people, then, are as his[the spiritual master’s] children:this (fact) is necessary for the Pir[the master] (to bear in mind)when he gives (them) instruction(II, 3312 ff.).

In his preface to the fifth book of theMathnawī Rūmī summarizes the

relationship between the exoteric law(the Sharī‘ah), the spiritual wayfaringwhich the Sufis undergo (the Tarīqah),and the Truth which is Sufism’s goal(the Haqīqah). He says that theMathnawī is:

. . . . setting forth that theReligious Law is like a candleshowing the way. Unless you gainpossession of the candle, there isno wayfaring [i.e., unless youfollow the Sharī‘ah , you cannotenter the Tarīqah ]; and when youhave come on to the way, yourwayfaring is the Path; and whenyou have reached the journey’send, that is the Truth. Hence it has

been said, “If the truths (realities)were manifest, the religious lawswould be naught.” As (forexample), when copper becomesgold or was gold originally, itdoes not need the alchemy whichis the Law, nor need it rub itselfupon the philosopher’s stone,which (operation) is the Path;(for), as has been said, it isunseemly to demand a guide afterarrival at the goal, andblameworthy to discard the guidebefore arrival at the goal. Inshort, the Law is like learning thetheory of alchemy from a teacheror book, and the Path is (like)making use of chemicals and

rubbing the copper upon thephilosopher’s stone, and the Truthis (like) the transmutation of thecopper into gold. Those who knowalchemy rejoice in theirknowledge of it, saying, “We knowthe theory of this (science)”; andthose who practice it rejoice intheir practice of it, saying, “Weperform such works”; and thosewho have experienced the realityrejoice in the reality, saying, “Wehave become gold and aredelivered from the theory andpractice of alchemy: we are God’sfreedmen”. . . .21

The law is [theoretical22 ]

knowledge, the Path action, theTruth attainment unto God.

Footnotes1 On the relationship between Sufismand Islam see S. H. Nasr, Ideals andRealities of Islam, chapter 5; Nasr, SufiEssays, pp. 32 ff.; T. Burckhardt, AnIntroduction to Sufi Doctrine, chapter1; and F. Schuon, Understanding Islam,chapters 1 and 4.

2 See Schuon, Understanding Islam, pp.13 ff. and Nasr, Ideals and Realities,pp. 21 ff.

3 See Schuon, Understanding Islam, pp.13 ff. and Nasr, Ideals and Realities,

pp. 18 ff.

4 R. Guénon, “Oriental Metaphysics,”Tomorrow (London), vol. 12, no. 1, p.10; also in The Sword of Gnosis,Penguin Books, 1974.

5 G.E.H. Palmer, in the foreword toSchuon, Gnosis: Divine Wisdom,London, 1959, p. 8.

6 On the heart, which is the seat of theIntellect in its traditional sense, seeSchuon, “The Ternary Aspect of theHuman Microcosm,” in Gnosis: DivineWisdom, chapter 7.

7 See Mathnawī, V, 2185, where Rūmī

states this explicitly. He also says,“Whether love be from this (earthly)side or from that (heavenly) side, in theend it leads us yonder” (I, 111). Thesources of quotations from Rūmī areindicated as follows: Roman numeralsrefer to the particular volume of theMathnawī (Nicholson’s translation)being cited. Discourses refers toDiscourses of Rūmī; Dīwān to SelectedPoems from the Dīvāni Shamsi Tabrīz,and Rubā‘īyāt to The Rubā‘īyāt of Jalālal-Dīn Rūmī (See Introduction, note 1).

8 The additions within parentheses areNicholson’s; those within brackets aremy own.

9 Mathnawī, vol. VII, p. 294. In Sufism, contrary to Hinduism for example,there is no sharp distinction betweenthe spiritual ways of love andknowledge; rather, it is a question ofthe predominance of one way over theother. See the excellent discussion byT. Burckhardt, “Knowledge and Love,”in Introduction to Sufi Doctrine, pp.27-32. On the various dimensions oflove in Sufi sm as manifested in theworld, see Schuon, “EarthlyConcomitances of the Love of God,” inDimensions of Islam, chapter 9.

10 On esotericism and exotericism, seeBurckhardt, An Introduction to SufiDoctrine, chapter 1; and Schuon, The

Transcendent Unity of Religions,London, 1953, chapters 2 and 3.

11 Sufi sm is also in a certain sense“opposed” to the Sharī‘ah, althoughnot in the way usually imagined. Thespiritual Path is precisely a passingbeyond or a penetrating into the formsof the Sharī‘ah, and thus certain Sufi smay at one time or another criticize theDivine Law, or rather those who followit blindly, but only to warn them not tobe limited and held back by it. Thespiritual traveler must be able to passto the inner essence of the Law, whileat the same time following it on theindividual and social planes.Deviations from Sufi sm have appeared

when the Law has been ignored. On theequilibrium between esotericism andexotericism in Islamic civilization, seeNasr, Ideals and Realities, pp. 122 ff ;and on a particular example during theSafavid period in Iran of opposition toSufi sm caused by a rupture of thisequilibrium, see Nasr, “Sūfi sm,” TheCambridge History of Iran, vol. 4,edited by R. N. Frye, Cambridge, 1975,pp. 442-63.

12 “Rūmī and the Sufi Tradition,”Studies in Comparative Religion, vol.8, 1974, p. 79. On Ibn ‘Arabī, see Nasr,Three Muslim Sages, Cambridge(Mass.), 1964, chapter 3.

13 Ibn ‘Arabī, Fusūs al-hikam, editedby A. Afifi, Cairo, 1946, pp. 204-5.

14 Orientalists have proposed a varietyof theories as to the “origin” of Sufism,which are well summarized in theintroduction to R.A. Nicholson, TheMystics of Islam, London, 1914.

15 On the Islamic origin of Sufi sm,some of the proofs of which are briefl ysummarized here, see Nasr, Ideals andRealities, pp. 127 ff .; Nasr, SufiEssays, pp. 16-17; and M. Lings, A SufiSaint of the Twentieth Century, chapter2.

16 On the Sufi orders in their historical

and social manifestation see J.S.Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam,London, 1971.

17 The absolute necessity for thespiritual master for entrance on theSufi path is emphasized repeatedly inRūmī’s writings. On the signifi canceof the master see Nasr,

“The Sufi Master as Exemplifi ed inPersian Sufi Literature,” in Sufi Essays,chapter 4; and Schuon, “Nature andFunction of the Spiritual Master,”Studies in Comparative Religion, vol.1, 1967, pp. 50-59.

18 “According to a very prevalent error

. . . . all traditional symbols wereoriginally understood in a purely literalsense, and symbolism properly socalled only developed as the result ofan ‘intellectual progress’ or a‘progressive refinement’ which tookplace later. This is an opinion whichcompletely reverses the normalrelationship of things. . . . In reality,what later appears as a super-addedmeaning was already implicitlypresent, and the ‘intellectualization’ ofsymbols is the result, not of anintellectual progress, but on thecontrary of a loss by the majority ofprimordial intelligence. It is thus onaccount of increasingly defectiveunderstanding of symbols and in order

to ward off the danger of ‘idolatry’(and not to escape from a supposedlypre-existent, but in fact non-existent,idolatry) that the tradition has feltobliged to render verbally explicitsymbols which at the origin … were inthemselves fully adequate to transmitmetaphysical truths.” Schuon, “TheSymbolist Outlook,” Tomorrow, vol.14, 1966, p. 50.

19 See Lings, A Sufi Saint of theTwentieth Century, pp. 42 ff.

20 According to the famous saying of‘Alī, the representative par excellenceof esotericism in Islam, “Look at whatis said not at who has said it.” Islamic

civilization in general has alwaysadopted any form of knowledge,provided it was in keeping with divineUnity (tawhīd). See Nasr, Ideals andRealities, pp. 36 ff. and Nasr, AnIntroduction to Islamic CosmologicalDoctrines, Cambridge (Mass.), 1964, p.5.

21 On the spiritual significance ofalchemy see T. Burckhardt, Alchemy:Science of the Cosmos, Science of theSoul, London, 1967.

22 It should be remembered that theoriginal meaning of the Greek wordtheōria is “viewing” or“contemplation”; doctrine is therefore

“a view of the mountain to beclimbed.”

T

II. God and the World“The Infinitude of the

All-Possible”1

he Shahādah, whichepitomizes Islamic doctrineand hence also the doctrine of

Sufism, may be said to contain twocomplementary perspectives, that oftranscendence or incomparability(tanzīh) and that of immanence orresemblance (tashbīh). The first,transcendence, indicates that God isdistinct from all beings and thatabsolutely nothing can compare to

Him; the second, immanence, indicatesthat all beings derive their total realityfrom God and that therefore in theiressential nature they have no realityoutside of His Reality.2

“I bear witness that there is no god butGod, He alone, without any partner.”

If we substitute the Divine Name al-Haqq, which means at once “the Truth”

and “the Real,” for “God” in theShahādah, the source of these twocomplementary points of viewbecomes apparent: “There is no realbut the Real.” On the one hand, God isthe only reality in the absolute sense ofthe word, for to postulate thatsomething else has autonomous realityvis-à-vis the Absolute Reality wouldinvolve polytheism or, in Islamicterms, “association” (shirk). Since Godis the only real being, He is absolutelyother than all created existence, which,if considered only in itself, is unreal. Inthe face of His absolute reality, allcreatures are nothing. On the otherhand, any reality that a creature doespossess must ultimately belong to God.

Th e Sufi s would be the last to disputethe assertion that from a certain pointof view (i‘tibār) the world does indeedpossess a certain limited reality, which,however, is not autonomous, butderives from that reality which in itsabsolute sense belongs to God alone.

As Ibn ‘Arabī often points out in hisFusūs al-hikam,3 the Quransummarizes these two points of view inthe verse, “Nothing is like Him; and Heis the Hearing, the Seeing” (XL, 9). There is nothing like God, so He isabsolutely transcendent; but inasmuchas a being “hears” or “sees,” it is fromGod that these attributes have come, orto be more exact, it is God who in

reality is hearing and seeing. God isdistinct from all created existence, butcreation is not other than God in itsessential nature.

Orientalists have often misrepresentedSufi sm by attempting to reduce suchdoctrines as the above to logicalsystems, or by isolating certainelements of the doctrine from theirtotal context, saying, for example, thatone Sufi contradicts another becausethe fi rst asserts the transcendence ofGod while the second asserts Hisimmanence. Actually, all true Sufi sare perfectly aware of the doubleimplication of the Shahādah, that Godis both immanent and transcendent, or

that, again in the words of Ibn ‘Arabī,

If you profess transcendence (tanzīh ), you delimit;

If you profess immanence ( tashbīh), you restrict.

But if you profess both, you havebeen shown the right way:

You are a leader in the gnosticsciences, a master.4

If the emphasis of certain Sufi s differsfrom that of other Sufi s in this or otherdoctrines, it is because theirexpositions are aimed at guidingdisciples on the spiritual path and notat explaining a philosophical system toorientalists.

One example of a commonmisrepresentation is to call certain Sufis “pantheists,” Ibn ‘Arabī being aprime target in this respect. It is truethat both Sufism and pantheism saythat the world is God, but Sufism addsimmediately that God is absolutelyother than the world, while classicalpantheists say that the world is God

with the implication that God isnothing but the sum total of theelements of the universe.5

It may be useful to repeat here that theprime reason certain scholars havemisunderstood Sufi doctrine is thatthey do not see or cannot accept that itsoperative, or spiritually effi cacious,elements are conceived of by the Sufi sthemselves as its only justifi cation forexistence. Such scholars are thus led todeal with Sufi sm as if it were anotherphilosophical system capable of purelylogical analysis, and in their attemptsto delineate this “system” invariablymisrepresent the doctrine. Moreover, inlooking upon Sufi doctrine as only

another kind of philosophy or mentalconstruct, they often divorce it from itsrealized and “lived” dimension. Only amisunderstanding of this sort couldhave led one orientalist to declare thatIbn ‘Arabī was responsible for a“divorce of mystical thought and moralfeeling” so that his doctrine was“religiously fl at, sterile, andstultifying on later religion.”6 Thisstatement is absurd unless we are toreduce religion to an empty moralismand say that God cannot be approachedthrough the intelligence. The abovecriticism, moreover, is answered by Ibn‘Arabī in a passage which is asummary of the reason for theexistence of traditional metaphysics:

The world is illusory: it has noreal existence. Th is is what ismeant by “imagination” ( khayāl). You have been made to imaginethat the world is somethingseparate and independently real,outside of the Absolute. But inreality it is not so. Do you not seethat in the world of sensory thingsa shadow is attached to the personfrom whom it originates and thatit is impossible to separate a thingfrom its essence? Therefore knowthy own essence and who thou art,what thy inmost nature is andwhat thy relation is to theAbsolute. Know in what respectthou art the Absolute, in what

respect the world, and in whatrespect “other” (than God), “different,” etc. And here it is that“knowers” become rankedaccording to degrees.7

Such knowledge, however, does notcome from philosophical investigation;rather, it is the fruit of spiritual travailand metaphysical realization. It issimple to say that “God is real and theworld is unreal,” but it is somethingquite different to know this in aneffective way, such that one’s verybeing reflects this unitive knowledge.In Rūmī’s words, “To know the scienceof “I am God”8 is the science ofbodies; to become “I am God” is thescience of religions” (Discourses, p.935).

According to Rūmī, the real nature ofthe relationship between God and theworld is accessible only to gnosis. Itcannot be known through rationalprocesses and discursive thought.

No created being is unconnectedwith Him: [but] that connection, Ouncle, is indescribable.

Because in the spirit there is noseparating and uniting, while(our) thought cannot think exceptof separating and uniting (IV,3695-96).

Nevertheless, in certain contexts Rūmīoften offers analogies in the attempt to

describe the relationship to the extentpossible in human language. Forexample, he says of the Divine Being inits self-manifesting (mutajallī) aspect,

It . . . . is neither inside of thisworld nor outside; neither beneathit nor above it; neither joined withit nor separate from it: it is devoidof quality and relation. At everymoment thousands of signs andtypes are displayed by it (in thisworld). As manual skill to the formof the hand, or glances of the eyeto the form of the eye, oreloquence of the tongue to theform of the tongue, (such is therelation of that world to this) (V,

p. 167).

In Sufi doctrine the creation of theworld is usually depicted as themanifestation of the attributes of Godin the manner expressed by the famoushadīth qudsī9: “I was a hidden treasureand I wanted to be known, so I createdthe world.” Rūmī refers to this hadīthoften, as for example in the Dīwān,where he renders it poetically asfollows:

David said: “O Lord, since thouhast no need of us,

Say, then, what wisdom was therein creating the two worlds?”

God said to him: “O temporalman, I was a hidden treasure;

I sought that that treasure oflovingkindness and bounty shouldbe revealed . . . .” ( Dīwān , p. 15).

The celestial map of the macrocosm

Obviously, God knew Himself“before”10 the creation of the world, sowhat this hadīth expresses is that God

wanted to be known by “others,” eventhough, as we have seen, “other thanGod” has only an illusory and relativeexistence. God wanted to be known inthe distinctive and relative mode ofknowledge proper to created beings.11

According to Ibn ‘Arabī:

Nothing remained but theperfection of the dimension ofKnowledge by contingentknowledge, which would derivefrom these concrete things—thatis, the concrete things of the world—when actualized in externalexistence. In this manner therewould appear the perfection ofcontingent knowledge and the

perfection of eternal knowledge,and the dimension of Knowledgewould reach perfection throughthese two aspects.12

The possibility that God shoulddetermine Himself, or should makeHimself known in a diff erentiated anddistinctive mode, is necessitated by theDivine Infi nity: since God is infi nite,all possibilities of manifestation or“theophany” (tajallī) are open to Him.In the words of Frithjof Schuon, “Theinfi nitude of Reality implies thepossibility of its own negation,”13 andthis “negation of God” is precisely thecreated world: it “negates” Himbecause it limits His Reality to

practically nothing by imposing upon itthe limitations of form. Rūmīexpresses this as follows: “ThatReality, qua Reality, has no opposite,only qua form” (Discourses, p. 92). The world is “opposite” because it limitsGod by its form, yet it is neverthelessHis Reality, the only Reality there is.

God in His self-manifestation (tajallī)makes Himself known at various levelsof reality, levels which have beendescribed in a variety of ways by different Sufis. According to oneformulation, which pertains mainly tothe school of Ibn ‘Arabī, God “before”creation or before His own self-manifestation is conceived of as the

Essence (al-dhāt), the absolutelyunconditioned Reality. At this stage Heis beyond all description, but we cannoteven say this about Him, for to do so isin a sense to describe Him.

In becoming known, the “HiddenTreasure” or the unconditioned Realityof God gradually becomes determinedand conditioned. Th e fi rstdetermination (al-ta‘ayyun al-aww- al)is referred to as al-ahadiyyah, theindivisible Unity. In it the divineNames and Qualities (al-asmā’ wa’l-sifāt) are contained such that each isidentified with and indistinguishablefrom every other. Al-ahadiyyah canonly be the object of immediate and

undifferentiated divine knowledge, notof any knowledge of an analytical ordiscursive order.

The second determination of theEssence is alwāhidiyyah, or Unicity, inwhich the Names and Qualities arediscernible such that each is distinctfrom every other. Strictly speaking, themanifested universe does not “begin”until below the level of Unicity, but itis convenient to speak of manifestationas everything which is other than theEssence.14

Each of the Divine Qualities containedin al-wāhidiyyah is unique, and eachrefers to a universal aspect of Godwhich becomes manifest in the world.The indefinite multiplicity of theQualities and their endlesscombinations determine on a lowerlevel the a‘yān al-thābitah, theimmutable essences, archetypes, orprincipial possibilities of existentthings. These in turn determineimmutably each aspect ofmanifestation or creation, which fromthis point of view is thus a possibilitysubsisting eternally within the DivineKnowledge. The archetypes as such arenever brought into existence in the

sense of separate or externalizedrealities. They are not distinctsubstances, but rather possibilities ofdetermination inherent in the Divine.

Just as the Essence is transcendent inregard to all manifestation, so eachself-determination of the Essence, oreach level of reality, is unaffected bythose levels below it, although eachcontains the principles of the lowerlevels within itself and determinesthese levels absolutely. The levelsbelow al-wāhidiyyah are beyondnumber but can be summarized intogeneral categories: 1. al-jabarūt, theworld of the archetypes or of spiritualexistence; 2. al-malakūt, the worlds of

psychic substances; 3. al-nāsūt, theworlds of material forms.

The concept of the levels of realityhelps explain another basic Sufidoctrine, the renewal of creation ateach instant.15 At the level of al-ahadiyyah, all possibilities are presentsimultaneously, and only at the level ofal-wāhidiyyah do they become separateand distinct. In the world of spiritualexistence, al-jabarūt, each possibilitywill have a variety of reflectionsappearing as a richness of its indefiniteaspects, each aspect containing in itselfevery other. In the lowest worlds, thecosmic condition of form must betaken into account, with the result that

this richness becomes “spelled out” bythe separate crystallizations of itsnumerous dimensions. Moreover, thedifferent crystallizations of a divinepossibility as they are manifested inone existent being in the world willappear successively, or temporally,precisely because the condition of formdoes not allow them to be revealedsimultaneously. This is all the more sosince the being always reflects theOneness of God, or the DivineUniqueness, at every point in itsmanifestation. “Every instant,” saysRūmī,

thou art dying and returning [toexistence]. . . .

Every moment the world isrenewed, and we are unaware ofits being renewed whilst itremains (the same in appearance).

Life is ever arising anew, like thestream, though in the body it hasthe semblance of continuity(I,1142 ff .).

The Quranic verse, “All is perishingbut His face [Essence]” (XXVIII, 88),besides containing other levels ofmeaning, is an epitome of this doctrineof continual creation, a doctrine which

emphasizes the ephemerality of theworld and its absolute dependenceupon its divine Source at everymoment. Everything in the world, orrather “everything other than God” (māsiwa’-llāh), only exists to perishimmediately.

The world subsists on a phantom.You call this world real, becauseit can be seen and felt, whilst youcall phantom those veritieswhereof this world is but anoffshoot. Th e facts are thereverse. Th is world is thephantom world, for that Verityproduces a hundred such worlds,and they rot and corrupt and

become naught, and it produces anew world and better. That growsnot old, being exempt fromnewness and oldness. Its off shootsare qualified by newness andoldness, but He who producesthese is exempt from bothattributes and transcends both (Discourses , p. 131).

The world for all its ephemerality andunreality must nevertheless exist on itsown level. Ibn ‘Arabī explains this inthe following terms:

You are to Him as the corporealbody is to you, and He is to you asis the Spirit which governs your

body. The definition of youincludes your outward and yourinward dimensions, for the bodywhich is left behind when thegoverning spirit departs from itdoes not remain a human being;rather, it is said of it that it is theexternal form of a man, and thereis no diff erence [in respect of itsbeing a form] between it and theform of a piece of wood or a stone.Th e name “man” is applied to itonly fi guratively, not in the truesense of the word. But it isimpossible that the Absolute couldever depart from the phenomenalforms of the world. Th erefore thedefinition of “divinity” belongs to

the world in the true sense, notfiguratively, just as [the definitionof man belongs to him] when thebeing is alive.16

If from the Divine Essence wereabstracted all the relations (i.e.the Names and Attributes), itwould not be a God( ilāh ). Butwhat actualizes these (possible)relations (which are recognizablein the Essence) is ourselves. Inthis sense it is we who, with ourown inner dependence upon theAbsolute as God, turn it into a“God.”17 So the Absolute cannotbe known until we ourselvesbecome known.18

The important point to note in theabove passages is that creation mustexist because of God’s infi nity. He cannot not create the world. The very term“God,” which in Arabic as employedby Ibn ‘Arabī contains in itself thenotion of reciprocity, would have nomeaning if it were not for thedependence of creation upon Him.Creation is the “object” of His divinity(ma’lūh), or that in respect to whichGod is God. In the words of Rūmī,

A king listens to the teachings of a Sufi

When you say that this is a branchof that, until the branch exists howdoes the term “root” becomeapplicable to the other? So it

became root out of this branch; ifthe branch had not existed, it [theroot] would never have had aname. When you speak of woman,there must necessarily be man;when you speak of Master, theremust be one mastered; when youspeak of Ruler, there must be oneruled ( Discourses , p. 153).

Since the world is the self-manifestation of God, what appears asevil and suff ering in this world can inthe last analysis be traced back to theOrigin of creation Itself:

Do you not see that the Absoluteappears in the attributes of

contingent beings and thus givesknowledge about Himself; andthat He appears in the attributesof imperfection and blame?19

Hence, to ask why evil exists in theworld is the same as to ask why there isa creation, and the answer is theinfinity of God in His self-manifestation. Rūmī expresses this bycomparing God to an artist who paintsbeautiful as well as ugly pictures:

Both kinds of pictures are(evidences of) his mastery. . . .

He makes the ugly of extremeugliness—it is invested with all

(possible) ugliness—

In order that the perfection of hisskill may be displayed, (and that)the denier of his mastery may beput to shame.

And if he cannot make the ugly, heis defi cient (in skill) . . . . (II,2539 ff .).

Rūmī deals with the question of evilfrom a slightly different angle in astory about a man who asked a Sufimaster the following question:

He (God) whose help is invokedhath the power to make ourtrading free from loss. . . .

He . . . . hath the power if Hewould turn sorrow into joy.

He by whom every non-existenceis made existent —what damagewould He suffer if He were topreserve it (the world) forever?

He who gives the body a soul thatit may live— how would He be aloser if He did not cause it to die?(VI, 1739 ff.).

The question is answered in two parts:first creation is necessarilydifferentiated into various qualities andattributes, including joy and sorrowand good and evil, because of theinfinity of the Divine Nature, and

because, in becoming “other thanGod,” manifestation necessarily takeson particularized and opposing forms.

Were there no bitter (stern)Commandments (from God) andwere there no good and evil andpebbles and pearls,

And were there no flesh and Deviland passion, and were there noblows and battles and war,

Then by what name and title wouldthe King call His servants? (VI,1747-49).

Second even the cruelty of the world isin fact a Divine Mercy, for,

The cruelty of Time (Fortune) andevery affliction that exists arelighter than farness from God andforgetfulness (of Him).

Because these (afflictions) willpass, (but) that (forgetfulness)will not. (Only) he that brings hisspirit (to God) awake (and mindfulof Him) is possessed of felicity(VI, 1756-57).

Thus man should be thankful that theworld is full of evil and affliction, forthese turn him toward God. So do notask why creation is evil, and

Do not regard the (anxious)husbanding of (one’s) daily breadand livelihood and this dearth (offood) and fear and trembling.

(But) consider that in spite of allits (the World’s) bitternesses yeare mortally enamored of it andrecklessly devoted to it.

Deem bitter tribulation to be a(Divine) mercy (VI, 1734-36).

“From the point of view of God,”all creation is performing but onetask ( Discourses, p. 221), i.e., thatof revealing the “HiddenTreasure”; thus, by the very factthat a being exists, whether it doesgood or evil, it is worshippingGod:

(All) our movement (action) isreally a continual profession offaith which bears witness to theEternal Almighty One (V, 3316).

…(both) infidelity and faith arebearing witness (to Him): both arebowing down in worship beforeHis Lordliness (II, 2534).

Infidelity is ever giving praise tothe Truth. 20

Such statements, of course, do notmean that Sufis advocateinfidelity. Man is privilegedamong beings in that he hasintelligence and free-will andtherefore can disobey thecommandments of God as well asobey them. “Man rides on thesteed of ‘We have honored (thesons of Adam)’ [Quran, XVII, 72]:the reins of free-will are in thehand of his intelligence” (III,3300). If he disobeys God’scommands as set down by theprophets, he is revealing certain

aspects of God but he is wronginghimself, for although “all things inrelation to God are good andperfect, … in relation to us it isnot so” ( Discourses, p. 42). “Godmost High wills both good andevil, but only approves the good” (Discourses, p. 186). By doingwhat is good, man makes use ofhis divine gifts and derives benefit from them in that he increaseshis nearness to God. Other beingsgain no benefi t from followingthe laws of God, for they cannotdo otherwise.

Choice (free-will) is the salt ofdevotion; otherwise (there wouldbe no merit): this celestial sphererevolves involun- tarily;

(Hence) its revolution has neitherreward nor punish- ment.…

All created beings indeed areglorifi ers (of God), (but) thatcompulsory glorifi cation is notwage-earning (III, 3287- 89).

Footnotes1 “The infinitude of the All-Possible” is an expressionborrowed from the writings of F.Schuon, who has expounded thistraditional doctrine in remarkablefashion in several of his works,most recently in the article “Ātmā-Māyā,” Studies in ComparativeReligion, vol. 7, 1973, pp. 130-39.

2 The complementary meanings ofthe Shahādah are explained withparticular clarity by Schuon inUnderstanding Islam, pp. 16-18,

60-61, and 125-26.

3 Ibn ‘Arabī’s exposition, verysimply stated here, is explained indetail and great lucidity by T.Izutsu in his masterly study, AComparative Study of the KeyPhilosophical Con- cepts in Sufism and Taoism—Ibn ‘Arabī andLao-Tzu, Chuang-Tzu, 2 volumes,Tokyo, 1966, vol. 1, pp. 49 ff .

4 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 70.

5 “The exoteric mentality, with itsone-sided logic and its somewhatpassion-tainted ‘rationality,’scarcely conceives that there are

questions to which the answer is atonce ‘yes’ and ‘no’; it is alwaysafraid of ‘falling’ into ‘dualism,’‘pantheism,’ ‘quietism’ orsomething of the kind. Inmetaphysics as in psychology it issometimes necessary to resort toambiguous answers; for example,to the question: the world, ‘is it’God? we reply: ‘no,’ if by the‘world’ is understood ontologicalmanifestation as such, that is tosay in its aspect of existential ordemiurgic relativity; ‘yes,’ if by‘world’ is understoodmanifestation in so far as it iscausally or substantially divine,since nothing can be outside of

God; in the fi rst case, God isexclusive and transcendentPrinciple, and in the second, totalReality or universal and inclusiveSubstance. God alone ‘is’; theworld is a limited ‘divine aspect,’for it cannot—if we are to avoidabsurdity—be a nothingness on itsown level. To affi rm on the onehand that the world has no ‘divinequality,’ and on the other that it isreal apart from God and that itnever ceases so to be, amounts toadmitting two Divinities, twoRealities, two Absolutes.” Schuon,Gnosis: Divine Wisdom, pp. 80-81. For a clear discussion of thereasons why the term “pantheism”

does not apply to Sufi sm, seeBurckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, chapter 3.

6 W. Th ompson, “Th e Ascetical-Mystical Movement and Islam,”Muslim World, vol. 39, 1949, p.282.

7 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 103; alsotranslated by Izutsu, ComparativeStudy, pp. 88-89.

8 This well known “ecstaticutterance” for which al-Hallāj wasput to death compares to others inIslamic history such as the “Glorybe to me” of Bāyazīd al-Bastāmī

and on another level to the sayingof the Prophet, “He who has seenme has seen the Truth.”

9 A hadīth qudsī or “sacredtradition” is a saying of theProphet in which God speaksthrough him in the first person.

10 “Before” is meant in a logicalrather than temporal sense,because for God all manifestationexists in perfect simultaneity inthe “eternal present.” Temporalsuccession exists only from acertain relative point of view.“‘With God is neither morn noreve’: there the past and the future

and time without beginning andtime without end do not exist:Adam is not prior nor is Dajjāl(Antichrist) posterior. (All) theseterms belong to the domain of theparticular (discursive) reason andthe animal soul: they are not(applicable) in the non-spatial andnon-temporal world” (VI, p. 408).

11 Schuon, Light on the AncientWorlds, London, 1965, p. 89.

12 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 204; alsotranslated by Izutsu, ComparativeStudy, pp. 131-32.

13 Gnosis: Divine Wisdom, p. 72.

14 A much more complete pictureof the levels of reality in Ibn‘Arabī’s doctrine is given byIzutsu, Comparative Study, pp. 17ff. and 143 ff. See alsoBurckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, pp. 57 ff. and Schuon,“The Five Divine Presences,”Dimensions of Islam, chapter 11.

15 On the concept of continuouscreation see the extremely lucidstudy of T. Izutsu: “The Conceptof Perpetual Creation in IslamicMysticism and Zen Buddhism,” inS.H. Nasr (ed.), Mélanges offerts àHenry Corbin, herméneute de latradition intellectuelle et

spirituelle de l’Iran, Tehran, 1974.

16 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 69; alsopartially translated by Izutsu,Comparative Study, p. 67.

17 What is meant here is God ascreator and sustainer of theuniverse. In Ibn ‘Arabī’s doctrinethe name Allāh (and also the termilāh) refers to the level of theDivine Names and Qualities, andtherefore, to say “Allāh” is toimply the Divine Names such askhāliq (Creator), many of whichby defi nition require acorresponding or reciprocal term,in this case makhlūq (“created”).

Th e Absolute in its Essence,therefore, usually referred to byIbn ‘Arabī as al-haqq, cannot becalled “God” in this sense, for, aspointed out above, the Essence isbeyond all determinations. SeeIzutsu, Comparative Study, p. 17.

18 Fusūs al-hikam, translated byIzutsu, Comparative Study, p. 34,with minor alterations by myself.

19 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 80; alsotranslated by Izutsu, ComparativeStudy, p. 224.

20 Mahmūd Shabistarī, Gulshan-iRāz, the Mystic Rose Garden,

translated by E.H.Whinfield,London, 1880, verse 879.Shabistarī’s Gulshan-i Rāz is asummary of the doctrines of Ibn‘Arabī and is one of the mostimportant Sufi works in Persian.

A

III. The Nature of Man

1. Universal Man

lthough the universe is onewhen seen from the point ofview of the Divine Essence,

from the point of view of relativitythere is a fundamental polarization intomicrocosm and macrocosm. Themacrocosm is the universe in all itsindefinite multiplicity, reflecting theDivine Names and Qualities as somany individual particularizations anddetermined modes. The microcosm isman, who reflects these same qualities

but as a totality. The macrocosm andthe microcosm are like two mirrorsfacing each other; each contains all ofthe other’s qualities, but the one in amore outward and objective mannerand in detail (mufassal) and the otherin a more inward and subjectivemanner and in summary form (mujmal). Thus man’s total knowledge ofhimself in principle includes theknowledge of the whole universe. Forthis reason the Quran says, “And He[God] taught Adam the Names [i.e., theessences of all beings and things]” (II,31).

The father of mankind, who is thelord of “He taught the Names,”

hath hundreds of thousands ofsciences in every vein.

To his soul accrued (knowledgeof) the name of every thing, evenas that thing exists (in its realnature) unto the end (of theworld). . . .

With us [ordinary men], the nameof every thing is its outward(appearance); with the Creator,the name of every thing is itsinward (reality). . . .

Inasmuch as the eye of Adam sawby means of the Pure Light, thesoul and inmost sense of thenames became evident to him (I,

1234-35, 1239, 1246).

The prototype of both the microcosmand the macrocosm is the Universal orPerfect Man (al-insān al-kāmil),1 whois the sum total of all levels of realityin a permanent synthesis. All theDivine Qualities are contained withinhim and integrated together in such away that they are neither confused norseparated, and yet he transcends allparticular and determined modes ofexistence. Moreover, in terms ofrevelation, Universal Man is the Spirit,of which the prophets are so manyaspects, and of which from the Islamicpoint of view Muhammad is the perfectsynthesis.

Universal Man has another aspect whenseen from the point of view of thespiritual path: he is the perfect humanmodel who has attained all of thepossibilities inherent in the humanstate. In him the “Names” or essenceswhich man contains in potentiality(bi’l-quwwah) are actualized so thatthey become the very states of hisbeing (bi’l-fi’l) . For him the humanego with which most men identifythemselves is no more than his outershell, while all other states of existencebelong to him internally; his inwardreality is identified with the inwardreality of the whole universe.2

Universal Man is the principle of all

manifestation and thus the prototype ofthe microcosm and the macrocosm.Individual man, or man as we usuallyunderstand the term, is the mostcomplete and central reflection of thereality of Universal Man in themanifested universe, and thus heappears as the final being to enter thearena of creation, for what is first inthe principial order is last in themanifested order.3

The term “Universal Man” was givenprominence by Ibn ‘Arabī, though thedoctrine was well known before him,and necessarily so, for from the pointof view of Sufism the Prophet of Islamis the most perfect manifestation of

Universal Man. It is essentially to thisstate that the Prophet was referringwhen he said, “The first thing createdby God was my light (nūrī) ” or “myspirit (rūhī)” — a hadīth which hasbeen cited by Sufis over and over againthroughout the centuries. Moreover,because numerous saints from the timeof the Prophet onward reached thisstate, they knew the meaning of thedoctrine of Universal Man in aconcrete manner, even if they did notspeak of it in exactly the same terms asdid Ibn ‘Arabī.

Before Ibn ‘Arabī Universal Man wasusually spoken of in slightly differentterms from those employed by him: the“microcosm” in this earlier perspective

is man’s external form, while the“macrocosm” is his inward reality. Inother words, the term “macrocosm”refers essentially to the inward realityof the Universe and not to its outwardform, as is usually the case in Ibn‘Arabī’s doctrine. But this inwardreality is precisely Universal Man andis therefore identical with the inwardreality of the microcosm.4

Rūmī also, although living after Ibn‘Arabī, follows the earlier terminologyin his writings. Discussing the truenature of man, Rūmī remarks thatphilosophers say that man is themicrocosm, while theosophers or Sufissay that man is the macrocosm,

The Prophet Muhammad in thecompany of the angels

the reason being that philosophyis confined to the phenomenalform of man, whereas theosophy isconnected with the essential truthof his true nature (IV, p. 301).

Man is in appearance a derivativeof this world, and intrinsically theorigin of the world (IV, 3767).

Externally the branch is the originof the fruit; intrinsically thebranch came into existence for thesake of the fruit.

If there had not been desire andhope of the fruit, how should thegardener have planted the root ofthe tree?

Therefore in reality the tree wasborn of the fruit, (even) if inappearance it (the fruit) wasgenerated by the tree.

Hence Mustafā (Muhammad) said,“Adam and the (other) prophetsare (following) behind me under(my) banner.”

For this reason that master of(all) sorts of knowledge[Muhammad] has uttered theallegorical saying “We are thelast and the foremost.”

(That is to say), “If in appearanceI am born of Adam, in reality I amthe forefather of (every)

forefather, . . . .

Therefore in reality the father(Adam) was born of me, thereforein reality the tree was born of thefruit.”

The thought (idea), which is first,comes last into actuality, inparticular the thought that iseternal (IV, 522 ff.).

So it is realized that Muhammadwas the foundation [of theUniverse]. “But for thee[Muhammad] I would not havecreated the heavens.”5 Everything that exists, honor and

humility, authority and highdegree, all are of his dispensationand his shadow, for all havebecome manifest from him)Discourses, p. 117).

A most explicit statement of man’sposition in the Universe is found in theGulshan-i Rāz:

Behold the world entirelycontained in yourself,That which was made last wasfirst in thought.The last that was made was thesoul of Adam,The two worlds were a means tohis production.

There is no other final causebeyond man,It is disclosed in man’s own self. .. .You are a reflection of “TheAdored of Angels [Adam],”For this cause you are worshippedof angels.Each creature that goes beforeyou [i.e., every other creature inthe universe] has a soul,And from that soul is a cord toyou.Therefore are they all subject toyour dominion,For that the soul of each one ishidden in you.You are the kernel of the world in

the midst thereof, Know yourselfthat you are the world’s soul.6

2. The Fall

Man’s state on earth as an individualcut off from his spiritual prototype isdue to the fall of Adam. The fall in turnis explained by Rūmī as stemmingfrom God’s casting Iblīs (Satan) out ofHeaven. According to the Quran,

We [God] created you [man]; thenwe shaped you,then We said to the angels: “Bowyourselves toAdam”; so they bowed themselves,save Iblīs—he was not one of

those that bowed themselves.Said He, “What prevented thee tobow thyself, when I commandedthee?”Said he, “I am better than he;Thoucreatedst me of fire, and him Thoucreatedst of clay.”Said He, “Get thee down out of it;it is not for thee to wax proudhere,so go thou forth; surely thou artamong the humbled”(VII, 10-12, Arberry trans.).

Adam and Eve

The reason that Iblīs did not bow downto Adam was that he saw only Adam’splace in the macrocosm, i.e., only theexternal aspects of his nature.Moreover, Iblīs decided not to bowdown to Adam through the exercise ofreason, or the faculty of individual andparticularized (juz’ī) knowledge cut offfrom gnosis and the illuminationderiving from the Divine Intellect. Seewith discernment, says Rūmī,

Lest thou become a man blind ofone eye, like Iblīs; he, like aperson docked (deprived of perfectsight), sees (the one) half and not

(the other) half.

He saw the clay of Adam but didnot see his obedience to God: hesaw in him this world but did notsee that (spirit) which beholdsyonder world (IV, 1616-17).

He (Iblīs) had knowledge, (but)since he had not religious love hebeheld in Adam nothing but afigure of clay (VI, 260).

He who is blessed and familiar(with spiritual mysteries) knowsthat intelligence [reason] is ofIblīs, while love [gnosis] is ofAdam (IV, 1402).

Iblīs is the personification of thetendency within the cosmos towardsdispersion and removal from theCenter, that which causes the world toseparate from God. Microcosmicallyhe personifies the tendency within manwhich brought about the Fall, i.e., hisnafs or carnal self. In a similar mannerthe angels who bowed themselves toAdam are related to man’s innermostnature and his spiritual faculties, andthus with love of God, gnosis, andintegral knowledge of man’s essence.

Forasmuch as the Angel is one inorigin with Intelligence [gnosis,not reason] (and) they have (only)become two (different) forms for

the sake of (the Divine) Wisdom. .. .

The Flesh ( nafs ) and the Devilhave (also) been (essen- tially)one from the first, and have beenan enemy and envier of Adam.

He that regarded Adam as a bodyfled (from him in disdain) while hethat regarded (him as) the trustyLight bowed (in worship) (III,3192 ff.).

The fleshly soul and the Devil bothhave (ever) been one person(essentially); (but) they havemanifested themselves in twoforms. . . .

You have such an enemy as this inyour inward part: he is thepreventer of the intellect, and theadversary of the spirit and ofreligion (III, 4053 ff .).

Just as Iblīs could see nothing butexternals, so was Adam’s fall causedwhen he looked only on the externalform of creation and saw the world asan independent reality cut off fromGod. Th e fall of man is the result ofthe blinding of the “eye of the heart”(chashm-i dil or ‘ayn al-qalb), whichalone sees with the vision of gnosis.

Sick, surely, and ill-savored is theheart that knows not (cannot

distinguish) the taste of this andthat.

When the heart becomes whole (ishealed) of pain and disease, it willrecognize the fl avor of falsehoodand truth [since “God taughtAdam the Names”].

When Adam’s greed for the wheat[the forbidden fruit] waxed great,it robbed Adam’s heart of health. .. .

. . . . discernment flees from onethat is drunken with vain desire(II, 2737 ff .).

The descent of Adam to Earth

(God said), “O Adam, seek Myheart-enthralling Reality: takeleave of the husk and (outward)form of the (forbidden) wheat (VI,3710).

As Frithjof Schuon has pointed out,7the world in Adam’s original state wasnot yet materialized. All beings were“contemplative states” within Adam,modes of consciousness illumined withthe Divine Light. Adam saw “things”as aspects of God, with no separateexistence. But through “vain desire”—the sin of inquisitiveness8—he wantedto see things as they existed in and forthemselves. Iblīs (the personifi cationof the tendency within man towards

ignorance and dispersion) tempted himto look at the state of contingentexistence from the point of view ofcontingency itself, and as a resultAdam and the whole world with himfell into that state. The direct link withGod had been broken and the worldwas now external to Adam instead ofinternal.

Before the fall all creatures were boundtogether in harmony, manifesting thequalities of God in simultaneousrichness. “Sheep and wolves livedtogether in peace.” But with the loss ofEden, oppositions became materializedand creature was set against creature.“Get ye all down,” says God in the

Quran, “each of you an enemy to each”(VII, 23). An analogous sequence Thedescent of Adam to Earth of eventswould occur if the confl icting thoughtsin people’s minds were suddenly tobecome materialized, and havingbecome so, they were to begin to teareach other to pieces.9

From the moral point of view theevents which brought about Adam’sfall are looked upon as a sin and ashortcoming, but from a strictlymetaphysical point of view it is notnecessary to do so; the fall can beviewed as a necessary consequence ofthe unfolding of the principialpossibilities or archetypes contained in

the “Hidden Treasure.” If Adam hadnot fallen, all of the possibilitiespresent in the Divine Essence could notbe played out. Rūmī shows somethingof this perspective in the followingpassage:

One mark of Adam from eternitywas this, that the angels shouldlay their heads (on the ground)before him, because it was hisplace (i.e., proper to his dignity).

Another mark was that Iblīs,saying “I am the king and thechief,” should not lay down hishead.

But if Iblīs too had become a

worshipper (of Adam), he (Adam)would not have been Adam: hewould have been another.

At once the worship of every angelis the test of him, and the denial(of him) by that enemy (Iblīs) isthe proof of him (II, 2119-22).

If Iblīs had not refused to bow down toAdam, this would have meant that hesaw Adam’s true nature, or that he saw“with both eyes.” But Iblīs is preciselythe personification of the tendencywithin the manifested universe towardsseparation and distance from God, andas a result he cannot see the inwardnature of things. Iblīs denied Adam

because this tendency towardsseparation and spiritual blindness doesin fact exist within the universe. It is atendency, moreover, which could notbut derive from certain Names andQualities of God: it corresponds to thepossibility necessitated by the DivineInfinity that God can “negate” Himselfby creating the world. Moreover, sinceAdam reflects all of the Divine Namesand Qualities, this tendency had toexist within him also. This is why theindividual self or ego is by nature farfrom God and unable to see thespiritual reality of things.

The separative and “negative” tendencypersonified by Iblīs, which is

manifested on the microcosmic levelby fallen man’s separation from Godand all of the evils which follow as aresult, possesses also a positive aspect,which is particularly apparent on thelevel of the macrocosm. In the absenceof this tendency the universe could nothold together for an instant, nor couldany created being exist, for thistendency is itself one of the constituentelements of existence. It is separationfrom God which “solidifies” theworld.10

Thus if all men were to attain the stateof Universal Man (which at the presentstate of cosmic existence is in eff ectan impossibility), the world would bereintegrated into the Principle, andEden would be reestablished, i.e., theworld as such would cease to exist.

In the Mathnawī Rūmī expresses thesepoints by saying that heedlessness—forgetfulness of God—maintains theworld: ‘Ā’ishah (one of the Prophet’swives) asks the Prophet what was thetrue reason for the rain that had justfallen. Th e Prophet answers that

. . . . “this (rain) was for thepurpose of allaying the grief that

is upon the race of Adam incalamity [since it has lost Eden].

If man were to remain in that fi reof grief . . . .

. . . . (all) selfi sh desires would goforth from men.”

Forgetfulness (of God), O beloved,is the pillar (prop) of this world;(spiritual) intelligence is a baneto this world.

Intelligence belongs to that(other) world, and when itprevails, this world is overthrown.

Intelligence is the sun and

cupidity the ice; intelligence is thewater and this world the dirt.

A little trickle (of intelligence) iscoming from yonder world, thatcupidity and envy may not roar(too loudly) in this world.

If the trickle from the Unseenshould become greater [andintelligence is funneled into theworld through those who haverealized the state of UniversalMan], in this world neither virtuenor vice will be left [just as thefall involved gaining theknowledge of good and evil, soregaining Paradise means going

beyond good and evil] (I, 2063ff.).

In another passage Rūmī says that hecannot reveal the divine mysteries lest

the life and livelihood (of mortals)be destroyed.

And lest the veil of forgetfulnessshould be entirely rent and (themeat in) the pot of tribulation beleft half-raw (VI, 3527-28).

The “pot of tribulation” refersessentially to the unfolding of theprincipial possibilities, a point which isbrought out in the following passage:

We [God] are the Revealer of themystery, and Our work is just this,that We bring forth these hiddenthings [i.e., the “HiddenTreasure”] from concealment[from latency in God].

Although the thief is mute indenial (of his theft), themagistrate brings it to light bytorture.

These (diverse) earths have stolen(Our) favors, so that throughaffliction We may bring them toconfess (IV, 1014-16).

In the final analysis, the maintenanceof the world depends on a balance

between the contemplative who hasrealized the state of Universal Man,and fallen man, who lives in a state offorgetfulness. Were all men to becomeUniversal Man, the world wouldvanish. Were all fallen, it woulddisintegrate into chaos. Each isnecessary so that the principialpossibilities inherent in the DivineNames and Qualities may becomemanifest.

Now this world goes on by reasonof heedlessness; if it were not forheedlessness, this world would notremain in being. Yearning forGod, recollection of the world to

come, intoxication, ecstasy—theseare the architects of the otherworld. If all these shouldsupervene, we would to a mandepart to the other world andwould not remain here. God mostHigh desires that we should behere, so that there may be twoworlds. So He has appointed twosheriffs, one heedfulness and theother heedlessness, that bothhouses may remain inhabited(Discourses , p. 120).

3. The Trust

Just as Universal Man knows all thingsas they exist in God (al-‘ārif billāh)

and not as they exist in themselves, soGod knows the manifested universe asa distinctive and diff erentiated realitythrough Universal Man. In him thepurpose of creation is realized: Godknows the “Hidden Treasure”distinctively and multiplicity returns tounity. Rūmī expresses this by sayingthat God contemplates “the world ofthe six directions” only throughUniversal Man:

Th e owner of the Heart[Universal Man] becomes asixfaced mirror: through him Godlooks upon (all) the six directions.

Whosoever hath his dwelling

place in (the world of) the sixdirections, God doth not look uponhim except through the mediationof him (the owner of the Heart). . ..

Without him God does not bestowbounty on any one (V, 874 ff .).

Ibn ‘Arabī has a similar passage:Universal Man

is to the Absolute as the pupil ofthe eye to the eye, through whichvision takes place. . . . Throughhim God looks at His creaturesand bestows mercy upon them.11

Universal Man, as the principle of all

manifestation, is the distributor ofGod’s bounty to the world. Th us theoutward harmony of the universedepends on man’s collectiveactualization of the state of UniversalMan. When a man realizes this originaland primordial state, he becomes a“channel of grace” for the world. Butthrough the fall, the majority of menhave forgotten their rightful function,and thus the world becomes ever more“separated” from God and ever morechaotic.

Th is original function of man to be theUniversal Man and act as a channel ofgrace for the world is referred to by theQuran as the “trust” (al-amānah)

placed upon man’s shoulders at hiscreation. Rūmī emphasizes the extremeimportance which Sufi sm gives to thisconcept:

There is one thing in this worldwhich must never be forgotten. Ifyou were to forget everything else,but did not forget that, then therewould be no cause to worry;whereas if you performed andremembered and did not forgetevery single thing, but forgot thatone thing, then you would havedone nothing whatsoever. . . . Soman has come into this world for aparticular task, and that is hispurpose; if he does not perform it,

then he will have done nothing.

“We offered the trust to theheavens and the earthand the mountains, but theyrefused to carryit and were afraid of it; and mancarried it.Surely he is sinful, very foolish”

(Quran, XXXIII, 72).

“We offered that trust to theheavens, but they were unable toaccept it.” Consider how manytasks are performed by theheavens, whereat the humanreason is bewildered. . . . All thesethings they do, yet that one thingis not performed by them; thattask is performed by man.

“And We honored the Children ofAdam” (Quran, XVII, 72).

God did not say, “And Wehonored heaven and earth.” Sothat task which is not performedby the heavens and the earth and

the mountains is performed byman. When he performs that task,“sinfulness” and “folly” arebanished from him.

If you say, “Even if I do notperform that task, yet so manytasks are performed by me,” youwere not created for those othertasks. It is as though you were toprocure a sword of pricelessIndian steel [i.e., man’s inwardnature] . . . . and were to convertit into a butcher’s knife for cuttingup putrid meat, saying, “I am notletting this sword stand idle, I amputting it to so many usefulpurposes.”…Or it is as though you

were to take a dagger of the finesttemper and make of it a nail for abroken gourd ( Discourses , pp.26-27).

From the point of view of Sufism thepurpose of all religion is that throughthe means that it provides, man may beenabled to fulfill the trust which Godhas placed upon his shoulders. Themission of the prophets and saints is toremind man of his original nature andto show him the way through which itmay once again be actualized.

In the composition of man allsciences were originallycommingled, so that his spirit

might show forth all hiddenthings, as limpid water showsforth all that is under it— pebbles,broken shards, and the like—andall that is above it, refl ecting inthe substance of the water. Such isits nature, without treatment ortraining. But when it was mingledwith earth or other colors [whenAdam fell], that property and thatknowledge was parted from it andforgotten by it. Then God mostHigh sent forth prophets andsaints, like a great, limpid watersuch as delivers out of darknessand accidental coloration everymean and dark water that entersinto it. Th en it remembers; when

the soul of man sees itselfunsullied, it knows for sure that soit was in the beginning, pure, andit knows that those shadows andcolors were mere accidents (Discourses , pp. 44-45).

Footnotes1 On the macrocosm and themicrocosm and Universal Man seeBurckhardt, Intro- duction to SufiDoctrine, pp. 89 ff.; Izutsu,Comparative Study, chapters 14-17;and R. Guénon, Symbolism of theCross, London, 1958. The title ofGuénon’s work is explained

by him as follows: “Most traditionaldoctrines symbolize the realization of‘Universal Man’ by . . . . the sign of thecross, which clearly represents themanner of achievement of this

realization by the perfect communionof all the states of the being,harmoniously and conformably ranked,in integral expansion, in the doublesense of ‘amplitude’ and ‘exaltation.’”p. 10.

2 Burckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, p. 93; see also Guénon,Symbolism of the Cross, chapters 2 and3.

3 The Arabic dictum is awwal al-fikrākhir al-‘amal, “The first in thought isthe last in actualization.” Themetaphysical principle is explained byGuénon in Symbolism of the Cros s, p.7. See also S.M. Stern, “‘The First in

Thought is the Last in Action’: theHistory of a Saying Attributed toAristotle,” Journal of Semitic Studies,vol. 7, 1962, pp. 234-52.

4 Sufis of later centuries have alwayslooked at these two ways of viewingthe reality of man as essentially thesame. The following is a quotationfrom Jāmī, the well-known Sufi poet ofthe fifteenth century, who was acontinuator of Ibn ‘Arabī’s school andwho at the same time quotes Rūmīextensively, especially in his prosedoctrinal works. The first three lines ofpoetry are by ‘Alī and show that theformulated doctrine of the macrocosmand the microcosm was known from

the beginning of Islam:

“The Commander of the Faithful (‘Alī)said,

“‘Thy remedy is within thyself, butthou perceivest not; thy malady is fromthyself, but thou seest not—

“‘Thou takest thyself to be a smallbody, but within thee unfolds themacrocosm,

“‘And thou art the Evident Book (alkitāb al-mubīn) through whose lettersthe Hidden (al-mudmar) becomesmanifest.’

“(In the same vein Rūmī says:) ‘If you

are born of Adam, sit like him andbehold all the atoms (of the Universe[reading, with Jāmī, dharrāt fordhurriyyāt]) in yourself.

“ ‘What is in the jar that is not (also) inthe river? What is in the house that isnot (also) in the city?

“ ‘This world is the jar and the heart islike the river; this world is the house

[reading khānah for ghurfah], and theheart is the wonderful city’” (IV, 809-13).

“Here Rūmī—may God sanctify hisspirit—calls the world a ‘jar’ and a‘house,’ and the heart of Universal

Man a ‘river’ and a ‘city’ In this he ispointing out that everything that existsin the world is found in the humanstate.…” Naqd al-nusūs fī sharh naqshal-fusūs, edited by W. C. Chittick,Tehran, Anjuman-i Falsafah, 1977, p.92. 5 This is a well-known hadīthqudsī.

6 Vss. 261 ff.

7 Light on the Ancient Worlds, pp. 43-47.

8 Schuon quotes two sayings of theProphet in this connection: “I seekrefuge with God in the face of a sciencewhich is of no use to me” and “One of

the claims to nobility of a Moslemrests on not paying attention to what isnot his concern.” Ibid., p. 56.

9 Ibid., p. 47.

10 On this point see Schuon,Transcendent Unity of Religions, pp. 63ff.

11 Fusūs al-hikam, p. 50; alsotranslated by Izutsu, ComparativeStudy, p. 218.

G

IV. Operative Sufism

1. Union with God

enerally speaking, therealization by man of hisprimordial state—that of

Universal Man in its fullness—iscalled from the point of view of thespiritual traveler or the “operative”(‘amalī) aspects of the Path “unionwith God” (al-wisāl bi’l-haqq) . Thepath leading to union is long anddifficult and has been described in avariety of ways by different Sufis. Forour purposes here it is sufficient to

limit ourselves to a consideration oftwo main steps on the Path; stepswhich are an application of theShahādah to the spiritual travail. Thefirst of these is fanā’, “annihilation ofself,” which derives from the “no” ofthe Shahādah: “There is no god butGod,” there is no reality but theReality. Man’s self-existence is notreal, since he is not God; therefore theillusion that it is real must beannihilated. The second is baqā’,“subsistence in God,” which springsfrom the “but”: There is no reality butthe Reality. Since God alone is real,man’s real Self is God. Man attains toReality only by passing away from hisillusory self and subsiding in his real

Self.

Rūmī summarizes the relationship ofthe Shahādah to the states of fanā’ andbaqā’ as follows:

“Everything is perishing but Hisface”: unless thou art in His face(essence), do not seek to exist.

When any one has passed away(from himself) in my [God’s] face,the words “everything isperishing” are not applicable (tohim).

Because he is in “but,” he hastranscended “no”, whoever is in“but” has not passed away [in

respect of his real Self] (I, 3052-54).

When a man’s “I” is negated (andeliminated) from existence, thenwhat else remains? Consider, Odenier.

If you have an eye, open it andlook! After “no,” why, what elseremains? (VI, 2096-97).1

“Die before ye die” is a Tradition ofthe Prophet which Rūmī oftencomments upon, as for example, thefollowing:

O you who possess sincerity, (if)you want that (Reality) unveiled,choose death and tear off the veil[of your self existence]—

Not such a death that you will gointo the grave, (but) a deathconsisting of (spiritual)transformation (VI, 738-39).

Man should not waste his efforts intrivialities but should concentrate all ofhis attention on the Path, for “except

dying, no other skill avails with God”(VI, 3838). The individual self is aprison which keeps man separated fromGod: “To be nigh (unto God) is not togo up or down: to be nigh unto God isto escape from the prison of existence”(III, 4514). For this reason, the seekersof God

desire that friendship and passionand love and unbelief and faithmay no more remain, so that theymay rejoin their origin. For thesethings are all walls and a cause ofnarrowness and duality. (Discourses , p. 203).

All such individual attributes must be

transcended, for they pertain only toself-existence.

Do not say that the heart that isbound (conditioned) by (suchbodily attributes as) sadness andlaughter is worthy of seeing Thee.. . .

He who is bound by sadness andlaughter is living by means ofthese two borrowed (transient andunreal) things.

In the verdant garden of Love,which is without end, there aremany fruits besides sorrow andjoy.

Love is higher than these twostates of feeling: without springand without autumn it is (ever)green and fresh (I, 1791-94).

It is love, in fact, which is the meanswhereby man dies to self, for “Love isan attribute of God” (V, 2185) whichburns up “the attributes of self, hair byhair” (III, 1922). When love—which asexplained earlier implies the realizedaspect of knowledge and theattachment of man to God—becomestruly actualized, the limitations of theindividual self are surpassed.

Thou art a lover of God, and Godis such that when He comes thereis not a single hair of thee(remaining).

At that look (of His) a hundredlike thee vanish away. . . .

Thou art a shadow [i.e., composedof nothing but the limitations ofthe ego2 ] and in love with thesun: the sun comes, the shadow isnaughted speedily (III, 4621-23).

Such a non-existent one who hasgone from himself (becomeselfless) is the best of beings andthe great (one among them [men]).

. . . .In passing away he reallyhath the life everlasting.

All spirits are under hisgovernance; all bodies too are inhis control [since he is UniversalMan] (IV, 398-400).

The higher any one goes [on theladder of attachment to the ego],the more foolish he is, for hisbones will be worse broken.

This is (constitutes) thederivatives (of the subject), and itsfundamental principles are that toexalt one’s self is (to claim) co-partnership with God.

Unless thou hast died and becomeliving through Him, thou art anenemy seeking to reign in co-partnership (with Him).

When thou hast become livingthrough Him, that (which thouhast become) is in sooth He; it isabsolute Unity; how is it co-partnership?

Seek the explanation of this in themirror of devotional works, forthou wilt not gain theunderstanding of it from speechand discourse (IV, 2764-68).

Love came, and went again,Like blood within my flesh andvein;From self Love set me freeAnd with the Friend completed me.

Only remains my name;My being’s every particle

The Friend took for His claim,And so the Friend became mywhole (Rubā‘īyāt , p. 45).

Since first I heard men cryThe famous tale of Love,With heart and soul and eyeIn its cause I strove.

“Perchance,” I said, “the Loved,And he that loves, are twain”:But lo, the twain one proved,My sight it was, was vain (Rubā‘īyāt , p. 48).

Union with God is complete absorptionin Him, such that

the one absorbed is no longer

there; he can make no more effort;he ceases to act and to move; he isimmersed in the water. Any actionthat proceeds from him is not hisaction, it is the action of thewater. ( Discourses , p. 55).

Dost thou supposeI do as I command,Or, as the moment goes,I am in my own hand?

As a pen I lieBefore my scrivener,Or like a ball am I,My mallet’s prisoner ( Rubā‘īyāt ,p. 17)

Rūmī (on his mule) meets Shams-iTabrīzī for the first time

When an attempt is made to defi ne thestate of union closely, the most that canbe done is to divest it of all thelimitations which condition existence.Such limitations have only a sort of“negative reality,” whereas in the stateof union only positive reality, i.e., God,remains.3

What is to be done, O Moslems?for I do not recognize myself.

I am neither Christian, nor Jew,nor Gabr, nor Moslem.

I am not of the East, nor of theWest, nor of the land, nor of thesea;

I am not of nature’s mint, nor ofthe circling heavens.

I am not of earth, nor of water,nor of air, nor of fire;

I am not of the empyrean, nor ofthe dust, nor of existence, nor ofentity.

I am not of India, nor of China,nor of Bulgaria, nor of Saqsīn;

I am not of the kingdom of‘Irāqain, nor of the country of

Khorāsān.

I am not of this world, nor of thenext, nor of Paradise, nor of Hell;

I am not of Adam, nor of Eve, norof Eden and Rizwān.

My place is the Placeless, mytrace is the Traceless;4

’Tis neither body nor soul, for Ibelong to the soul of the Beloved.

I have put duality away, I haveseen that the two worlds are one;

One I seek, One I know, One I see,One I call. . . .

I am intoxicated with Love’s cup,the two worlds have passed out ofmy ken. . . .

. . . .I am so drunken in this world,

That except of drunkenness andrevelry I have no tale to tell (Dīwān , pp. 125-27).5

Scholars of religion have often come tothe conclusion that union with God ordeliverance as expounded in orientaldoctrines is complete extinction suchthat the individual is “a drop of waterin the sea” and thus loses all that heever was. In some respects this is true,as is witnessed by many of Rūmī’sformulations. But if the individualloses that which he was, he only loseswhat in itself is privation andnothingness. Union implies nothingnegative; according to all traditionaldoctrines its real nature is absoluteplenitude.6 If the goal is presented innegative terms, it is because in relationto the world God is “nothing,” but this

is only because the world is nothing inrelation to God. And it is God who isreal, not the world.

The basic question to be asked whenconsidering the doctrine of union is“What is man’s real self?” In his

Risālat al-ahadiyyah, Ibn ‘Arabī says,“He sent Himself with Himself toHimself.”7 Through the spiritual pathman awakens from his slumber andfinds that he is not what he had thoughthimself to be; he is not that particularmode of consciousness with which hehad identified himself. And man doesnot “achieve” anything by realizingunion with God; rather he becomeswhat he had always been in his inmostnature.8 God is the Real and nothingcan be outside of His Reality.

Take the famous utterance “I amGod.”9 Some men reckon it agreat pretension; but “I am God”is in fact a great humility. The

man who says “I am the servant ofGod” asserts that two exist, onehimself and the other God. But hewho says “I am God” hasnaughted himself and cast himselfto the winds. He says, “I amGod”: that is, “I am not, He is all,nothing has existence but God, Iam pure nonentity, I am nothing.”In this the humility is greater (Discourses , pp. 55-56).

2. The Nafs

A theme to which Rūmī often returns isthat the ego or carnal self (nafs)10 is aveil which prevents man from knowinghis own true nature.

We have been in heaven, we havebeen friends of the angels;

Thither, sire, let us return, for thatis our country ( Dīwān , p. 33).

O thou who hast a countryBeyond the skies,Yet didst of earth and ashesThyself surmise:

Thou hast engraved thine imageUpon the earth,Forgetting that far countryWhich gave thee birth(Rubā‘īyāt , p. 8).

Mawlānā performing the dance ofremembrence

Man’s original food is the Light ofGod: animal food is improper for

him;

But, in consequence of disease, hismind has fallen into this(delusion), that day and night heshould eat of water and clay (III,1083-84).

O how long shall we, like childrenin the earthly sphereFill our lap with dust and stonesand shards?Let us give up the earth and flyheavenwards,Let us flee from childhood to thebanquet of men.Behold how the earthly frame hasentrapped thee!

Rend the sack and raise thy headclear ( Diwān , p. 119).

Give up this (belief inphenomena). Loves (felt) for whatis endued with form have not astheir object the form or the lady’sface. . . .

The sunbeam shone on the wall:the wall received a borrowedsplendor.

Why set your heart on a piece ofturf, O simple man? Seek out thesource which shines perpetually(II, 702, 708-9).

You are an idol-worshipper when

you remain in (bondage to) forms:leave its (the idol’s) form and lookat the reality (I, 2893).

The cardinal sin in Islam is theassociation (shirk) of other divinitieswith God or “polytheism.” As indicatedabove, “There is no god,” the negativehalf of the Shahādah (nafy), impliesthe non-existence of all that is otherthan God. Sufism applies the Shahādahwith its full force and in the light of itsprofoundest meaning and thereforesays that to believe that anyphenomenon whatever existsindependently of God is to associatethat phenomenon with Him. The true“monotheist” (muwahhid) sees with thevision of gnosis that all things dependabsolutely upon God and derive theirtotal reality from Him. The

“associator” or polytheist (mushrik),however, suffers from an opticalillusion whose source is his attributionof reality to his own individual self. Aslong as he has not escaped from thelimitations of his ego he cannot helpbut act as if phenomena wereindependent realities, detached fromGod.

Throw dust on your sense-perceiving eye: the sensuous eyeis the enemy of intellect andreligion.

God has called the sensuous eyeblind [cf. Quran, VII, 178]; Hehas said that it is an idolater and

our foe,

Because it saw the foam and notthe sea, because it saw the presentand not tomorrow (II, 1607-9).

The idol of your self is the motherof (all) idols. . . .(I, 772).

If ye pass beyond form, O friends,’tis Paradise and rose-gardenswithin rose-gardens.

When thou hast broken anddestroyed thine own form, thouhast learned to break the form ofeverything (III, 578-79).

The remedy for association or

polytheism is death to self, a deathwhich comes about when man is effaced by love, but a love which, as wehave already noted, is in essence thevision of gnosis and the realization thatGod alone is real.

. . . . Hail, O mighty Love,destroyer of polytheism!

Verily He is the First and theLast: do not regard polytheism asarising from aught except the eyethat sees double [because of self-existence] (V, 590-91).

Just as existence in and for theindividual self necessitates that man beseparated from God in this world, soalso does it necessitate separation inthe next world, and this in the view ofSufism is one of the profoundimplications of the concept of “hell.”As long as man remains attached towhat is transitory—the ego and theworld—he is far from God.

Therefore union with this (world)is separation from that (world):the health of this body is thesickness of the spirit.

Hard is the separation from thistransitory abode: know, then, that

the separation from thatpermanent abode is harder.

Since it is hard for thee to beseparated from the form, how hardmust it be to be parted from itsMaker!

O thou that hast not the patienceto do without the vile world, how,O friend, how hast thou thepatience to do without God?. . . .

Take heed, never be wedded to self(IV, 3209-12, 3219).

That captain of mankind [theProphet] has said truly that noone who has passed away from

this world

Feels sorrow and regret anddisappointment on account ofdeath; nay, but he feels a hundredregrets for having missed theopportunity,

Saying (to himself), “Why did notI make death my object—(deathwhich is) the storehouse of everyfortune and every provision—

(And why), through seeing double,did I make the lifelong object ofmy attention those phantoms thatvanished at the fated hour?”

The grief of the dead is not on

account of death; it is because (sothey say) “We dwelt upon the(phenomenal) forms,

And this we did not perceive, thatthose are (mere) form and foam,(and that) the foam is moved andfed by the Sea” (VI, 1450-55).

Before his fall man refl ected integrally

and consciously the divine Reality—“God created Adam in His Ownimage”11—and thus contained withinhimself the principle of all Existence,with which he was in perfectequilibrium. But through his fall helost his inward contact with God, andfor him the equilibrium of the universebecame blurred. Trying to regain hisoriginal state man created his ownequilibrium and saw things not as theyare— in God—but through the veil ofhis individual self. The process ofdeath, whether in the sense of theProphet’s words, “Die before ye die,”or in the usual physical sense, impliesprecisely a return to, or at least arenewed awareness of, man’s original

equilibrium with the universe.

If at death a man “goes to hell” it isbecause of his own nature: he hascreated in himself an artifi cialequilibrium and set himself up as thestandard of measurement, whereas“man is the measure of all things” onlyif he sees in and through God, for thereis no other absolute standard. TheProphet said, “Man is asleep and whenhe dies he awakens”: man comes to seeexistence as it is and not as he thinks itis. If his being does not conform to theequilibrium of the universe, he isseparated from his proper place in“God’s Order,” and the equilibrium ofthe universe appears to him as a chaos.

His point of reference and standard ofmeasurement is still his own ego. “Oh,there is many a raw (imperfect) one,”says Rūmī

whose blood was shed externally,but whose living fl eshly soulescaped to yonder side.

11 Th is is a well-known hadīth ofthe Prophet.

Its instrument was shattered, butthe brigand was left alive: the fleshly soul is living though that onwhich it rode has bled to death (V,3822-23).

Make it thy habit to behold the

Light without the glass [theintermediaries of phenomenalforms and the self], in order thatwhen the glass is shattered theremay not be blindness (in thee) (V,991).

It is the individual self which separatesman from God, and ultimately, “Th iscarnal self (nafs) is Hell. . . .” (I, 1375);to put out the fi res of hell a man mustpass away from self:

(Inasmuch as) ye have answeredthe call of God and have broughtwater [the “water of life”—love]into the blazing hell of your soul—

Our [God’s] Hell also in regard to

you has become greenery androses and plenty and riches (II,2567-68).

Hell exists for man only when thecarnal soul “escapes to yonder side”:

Everyone’s death is the samequality as himself, my lad: to theenemy (of God) an enemy, and tothe friend of God a friend. . . .

Your fear of death in fleeing (fromit) is (really) your fear of yourself.Take heed, O (dear) soul!

’Tis your (own) ugly face, not thevisage of Death: your spirit is likethe tree, and death (is like) the

leaf.

It has grown from you, whether itis good or evil: every hiddenthought of yours, foul or fair, is(born) from yourself.

If you are wounded by a thorn, youyourself have sown; and if you are(clad) in satin and silk, youyourself have spun (III, 3489sqq.).

Shams-i Tabrīzī foretells his own deathto Rūmī

3. Knowledge and Method

The heart, the center of man’s being, isidentifi ed in its innermost nature withman’s archetypes or principialpossibilities; it links him directly to theworld of the Spirit.

I said to my heart, “How is itMy heart, that in foolishnessYou are barred from the serviceOf Him whose name you bless?”

My heart replied, “You do wrongTo misread me in this way,I am constant in His service,You are the one astray”(Discourses , p. 178).

Rūmī often refers to the followinghadīth qudsī: “Neither My earth norMy heavens contain Me, but I amcontained in the heart of My faithfulservant.” In the following passages hecomments on this theme:

I gazed into my own heart;

There I saw Him; He was nowhereelse (Dīwān , p. 73).

O heart, we have searched from

end to end: I saw in thee naughtsave the Beloved.

Call me not infi del, O heart, if Isay, “Th ou thyself art He” (Dīwān , p. 250).

Here the understanding becomessilent or (else) it leads into error,because the heart is with Him, orindeed the heart is He (I, 3489).

To know the heart in its inmost essenceis to know God, and to the degree thatone truly knows God, one is not otherthan He, for a being defined byrelativity cannot know the Absolute. Toknow God, one must “become” God, byceasing to exist in that mode of being

which separates man from Him, or byno longer being defined by thelimitations of that state.

When the spirit became lost in

contemplation, it said this:

“None but God has contemplatedthe beauty of God”(Dīwān , p. 91).

Do not look on that BeauteousOne with your own eye: behold theSought with the eye of seekers.

Shut your own eye to that sweet-eyed One; borrow an eye from Hislovers.

Nay, borrow eye and sight fromHim, then look on His face withHis eye (IV, 75-77).

When your essence is pure fromall stain. . . .

There remains no distinction,Knower and Known are one andthe same.12

Intelligence in the true sense, which isa faculty centered in the heart and notin the mind, exists in man todiscriminate between the Real and theunreal.13 But the ego-centric illusion,the nafs and its concomitants, standsbetween man and true knowledge. As aresult man constantly mistakes theillusory projection of things withinhimself for things as they are in reality.True intelligence is to see things asthey are through God; and to see thingsthrough God, one cannot be other thanHe.

The only value of external knowledgeas such is its symbolical effectiveness,or the extent to which it can lead to theinward reality of that which itmanifests outwardly.

The (right) thought is that whichopens a way: the (right) way isthat on which a (spiritual) kingadvances (II, 3207).

Every expression of the truth is in asense relative since it exists in theworld of forms and relativity, but inanother sense it is absolute, for it is asymbol reflecting the ultimate Truthitself, which alone is absolute “in theabsolute sense.”14 This is why Sufism,

in spite of its constant emphasis upon“breaking forms,” stresses theimportance of orthodoxy:15 only if adoctrine or method is orthodox, or inother words, only if on its own level itis an adequate reflection of Truth, canit lead to the Truth. For someone toalter the doctrine in terms of his ownpersonal opinion (zann) is to destroy itsvalue as a symbol and therefore itsability to reflect the Truth. In somerespects this explains the function ofthe spiritual master —since in his innerbeing he has transcended the world offorms and lives in the world of theSpirit, he can reformulate the doctrinein a manner that suits the particularneeds of the collectivity which he is

addressing.

In the Mathnawī Rūmī summarizes theSufi point of view on the importance oforthodoxy by criticizing a man whohad interpreted some Traditions of theProphet to his own advantage: “Alteryourself, not the Traditions: abuse your(dull) brain, not the rose-garden (thetrue sense which you cannotapprehend)” (I, 3744). Man must notbring the doctrine down to his ownlevel; rather, he must rise to its level.

“The Tavern” often symbolizes the

meeting of spiritual travelers

In a traditional civilization all of thebranches of knowledge are determinedin accordance with principles derivingfrom the spiritual realm; if one goesdeeply into them, he is led from theformal expression to the supra-formalTruth.

(In order to tread this Way) oneneeds a knowledge whereof theroot is Yonder, inasmuch as ev erybranch is a guide to the root (III,1124).

Those persons who have made orare in the course of making theirstudies think that if theyconstantly attend here [i.e., if they

come to Rūmī for instruction inSufism] they will forget andabandon all that they have learned[since Sufism “does away with”formal expression]. On thecontrary, when they come heretheir sciences all acquire a soul.For the sciences are like images;when they acquire a soul, it is asthough a lifeless body hasreceived a soul.

All knowledge has its originbeyond, transferring from theworld without letters and soundsto the world of lettersand sounds (Discourses , pp. 163-64).

As we have seen, to truly “know” areality pertaining to the spiritual world,man must “become” it: in the worldsbeyond form, knowledge and being arewed. It is the role of symbolism toindicate the way that man must followin realizing the possibilities ofexistence latent in his own essence.

Each level of reality is a symbolicalexpression of the levels above it, sinceontologically it is determined by them.For the traveler on the spiritual path, ahigher state of being appears first as avision within him, and as he progresseshe is gradually absorbed into it. By thesuccessive realization of the levels ofbeing man can ultimately realize the

state of union with the Divine itself.

You draw that knowledge towardsyourself. It says, “I cannot becontained here, and you are tardyin arriving there. It is impossiblefor me to be contained here, and itis difficult for you to come there.”To bring about the impossible isimpossible; but to bring about thedifficult is not impossible. So,though it is difficult, strive toattain the great knowledge; anddo not expect that it will becontained here, for that isimpossible ( Discourses , p. 216).

The spiritual method of Sufism,

whereby theoretical knowledge isactualized so that it becomes part ofman’s being, is essentiallyconcentration upon the Truth throughco-ordination and realization of theinherent powers of the human state.16

The fundamental tendency of fallenman is dispersive. Since he lives as ifhe were only his ego, his intelligence is“externalized” and scattered. It is“distributed over a hundredunimportant affairs, over thousands ofdesires and great matters and small”(IV, 3288). The immediate purpose ofthe method is to reverse this dispersivetendency; and since man’s presentcondition results from “forgetfulness”(ghaflah) of his own pretemporal

essence, the means through whichconcentration is brought about isknown as dhikr, “remembrance” ofGod.

Just as in common Arabic usage theword dhikr also means “to call upon,”so in its technical Sufi meaning “toremember God” also means “to callupon God,” and the central method ofthe Path is the invocation of the divineName, the Name which is mysteriouslyidentical with the Named, for it is itsperfect symbol.

Various formulas and divine Names areemployed in Sufi invocation. In what isusually known as invocation of the

“Supreme Name” (ism-i a‘zam) theName invoked is viewed as containingwithin itself all of the Names of God: itis a means of realizing all of the statesof being contained in man’s essence, orof actualizing all of the names which“God taught Adam.” Through theinvocation man is reintegrated into hiscenter and ultimately attains unionwith God.

As mentioned above the heart itself isnever apart from God; it is man’sindividual self that through thespiritual method must be transformedin order for man to reassume hisrightful place in the Universe.

Hence it is realized that the heartin all circumstances is attached tothe heart’s beloved, and has noneed to traverse the stages [of thePath], no need to fearhighwaymen [hindrances on theway]. . . . It is the wretched bodywhich is fettered to these things (Discourses , pp. 177-78).

In Sufism “spiritual virtue”17 is thereflection in the human and socialspheres of the spiritual transformationundergone on the path. It is theequilibrium of the innermost facultiesof the soul brought about by thereintegration of man into his center andreflected outwardly in the participation

of man’s mental and psycho-physicaldimensions in the Truth. A truly“virtuous” man is thus one whosewhole being, including the body, hasbecome a mirror reflecting God.18

Moreover, virtue is in no way“something of merit,” for it does notbelong to the human being as anindividual. It is the “natural” state ofman before his fall, a state which isattained through the removal from manof all that which is opaque and preventsthe radiation of the divine Light.

It should not be concluded from a studyof spiritual method in Sufism that theSufis believe that all one has to do tobecome a saint is to enter the Path. Notall initiates reach a state of knowledgebeyond forms, and very few reach theultimate goal, or union.19 It is perhapstrue to say that the great majority ofthe members of a Sufi order have been,or in our days at least are, among themutabarrikūn, the “blessed,” those whoreceive passively the spiritual grace ofthe master and are content to practice areligious life somewhat more intensethan that of their pious neighbors. Onlya small number are truly sālikūn,“travelers” on the Path, in the sense of

progressing from one spiritual state20

to another.

Sufism stresses, moreover, thatparticipation in its spiritual means, atwhatever level this may take place—from simple initiation to the mostadvanced stages of the Path—, can beattained only through the grace of Godand His “confirmation” of man’sefforts (ta’yīd). The spiritualdisciplines of Sufism, such asinvocation and meditation21 and suchsecondary means as music22 and thesacred dance, are never considered ascapable of achieving anything bythemselves. They are practices whichcan only become effective through the

grace present in their sacred forms andconfirmation from on High. Would-becritics of the use of any kind of“method” to attract the divine Gracewould do well to contemplate theseverses of Rūmī:

If you say that (spiritual) purity is[only] (bestowed by) the grace ofGod [and not by method], [youmust nevertheless realize that]this success in polishing (the heart[i.e., in practicing the disciplinesof the Path]) is also (derived)from that (Divine) bounty.

The Sufi Doctrine of Rūmī

That (devotional) work and prayeris in proportion to the(worshipper’s) aspirations: “Manhas nothing but what he hasstriven after [Quran, LIII, 40].”

God alone is the giver ofaspiration: no base churl aspiresto be a king (IV, 2911-13).

4. The Limitations ofRational Knowledge

As we have seen, in Rūmī’s viewexternal knowledge, or knowledge inthe usual sense of the term, is usefuland justifi able only to the extent that it

is symbolically eff ective. Man shouldnever be satisfi ed to “know” with thefeeble powers of his reason. Rather heshould enter the Path in order to bedelivered from the limitations ofreason and attain to gnosis.

From God came (the text),“Verily, opinion doth not enable(you) to dispense (with the Truth)[Quran, LIII, 29]”: when did thesteed of opinion run (mount) to theHeavens?. . . .

Come, recognize that yourimagination and refl ection andsense-perception andapprehension are like the reed-

cane on which children ride.

The sciences of the mystics bearthem (aloft); The sciences ofsensual men are burdens to them. .. .

God hath said, “(Like an ass)laden with his books [Quran, LXII,5]”: burdensome is the knowledgethat is not from Himself.

The knowledge that is notimmediately from Himself does notendure (I, 3442 ff .).

Blind inwardly, they [worldlymen] put their heads out of thewindow of the physical body. What

will they see? What does theirapproval or disapproval amountto? To the intelligent man both areone and the same; since they haveseen neither to approve ordisapprove, whichever they say isnonsense ( Discourses , p. 100).

A bull pays tribute to Mawlānā

Vision is superior to knowledge:hence the present world prevails(over the next world) in the viewof the vulgar,

Because they regard this world asready money, while they deemwhat concerns that (other) worldto be (like) a debt (III, 3858-59).

Since thou art a part of the world,howsoever thou art thou deemestall [including the saints] to be ofthe same description as thyself,misguided man. . . .

(If) a cow come suddenly into

Baghdad and pass from this side(of the city) to that (farther) side,

Of all (its) pleasures and joys anddelights she will see nothing butthe rind of a watermelon (IV,2368, 2377-78).

The philosopher is in bondage tothings perceived by the intellect[the reason]; (but) the pure(saint) is he that rides as a princeon the Intellect of intellect.

The Intellect of intellect is yourkernel, (while) your intellect is(only) the husk: the belly ofanimals is ever seeking husks.

A goldsmith’s hammering causesMawlānā to dance

He that sees the kernel has ahundred loathings for the husk: tothe goodly (saints) the kernel(alone) is lawful, lawful.

When the intellect, (which is) thehusk, off ers a hundred evidences,how should the Universal Intellecttake a step without havingcertainty? (III, 2527-30).

Know that (true) knowledgeconsists in seeing fi re plainly, notin prating that smoke is evidenceof fire. . . .

O you whose evidence is like astaff in your hand (which)indicates that you suff er fromblindness,

(All this) noise and pompous talkand assumption of authority (onlymeans), “I cannot see: (kindly)excuse me” (VI, 2505 ff .).

We are much addicted to subtlediscussions, we are exceedinglyfond of solving problems;

And to the end that we may tieknots and (then) undo them, (weare) making many rules for(posing and stating) the difficultyand for answering (the questions,raised by it).23

Like a bird which should undo thefastenings of a snare, and tie(them together) at times, in orderthat it might become perfect inskill:

It is deprived of the open countryand meadowland, its life is spentin dealing with knots (II, 3733-36).

Suppose the knot is loosed, O

adept (thinker): ’tis (like) a tightknot on an empty purse.

Thou hast grown old in (theoccupation of) loosing knots:suppose a few more knots areloosed (by thee, what then?)

The knot that is (fastened) tight onour throat is that thou shouldstknow whether thou art vile orfortunate.

Solve this problem if thou art aman: spend thy breath (life) onthis, if thou hast the breath (spirit)of Adam (within thee).

Suppose thou knowest the

definitions of (all) substances andaccidents (how shall it profi tthee?): know the (true) definitionof thyself, for this isindispensable.

When thou knowest the definitionof thyself, fl ee from thisdefinition, that thou mayst attainto Him who hath no definition, Osifter of dust.

(Thy) life has gone (to waste) in(the consideration of logical)predicate and subject: (thy) life,devoid of (spiritual) insight, hasgone in (study of) what has beenreceived by hearsay.

Every proof (that is) without (aspiritual) result and effect is vain:consider the (final) result ofthyself! (V, 560-67).

The great scholars of the age splithairs on all manner of sciences.They know perfectly and have acomplete comprehension of thosematters which do not concernthem. But as for what is truly ofmoment and touches a man moreclosely than all else, namely hisown self, this your great scholardoes not know ( Discourses , p.30).

Man must know himself in order that

he can escape from himself; all otherknowledge is worthless. “Make ajourney out of self into [your real] self,O master, / For by such a journey earthbecomes a quarry of gold” (Dīwān, p.111). Once a man has entered upon thespiritual Path, and has made progressupon it,

The illumination of the spiritcomes: (then) there remains not, Othou who seekest illumination,conclusion and premise or thatwhich contradicts (a statement or)that which renders (itsacceptance) necessary.

Because the seer on whom His

(God’s) Light is dawning is quiteindependent of the (logical) proofwhich resembles a (blind man’s)staff (I, 1507-8).

(. . . . in the case of) that truthwhich is immediate and intuitive,there is no room for anyinterpretation (II, 3248).

Moreover, it does a person no good toargue that he is investigating this orthat branch of knowledge “for the gloryof God.”

All these sciences and exertionsand acts of devotion incomparison with the majesty andmerit of the Creator, are as

though a man bowed to you,performed a service, anddeparted. If you were to set thewhole world upon your heart inserving God, it would amount tothe same thing as bowing yourhead once to the ground (Discourses , p. 212).

Man cannot truly act according to thewill of God unless he himself is notacting. “Except dying, no other skillavails with God” (VI, 3838). “The rootof the root of love and fealty is to dieand be naught” (V, 1253-54).

What is there that God most Highdoes not possess and of which He

is in need? [Obviously, nothing.Then] it is necessary to bringbefore God most High a heartmirror-bright, so that He may seeHis own face in it. “God looks notat your forms, nor at your deeds,but at your hearts”24 ( Discourses,p. 195).

What is the mirror of Being? Not-being. Bring not-being [death toself] (as your gift [to God]), if youare not a fool (I, 3201).

Calligraphy of the Name of the Essence(Huwa)

Footnotes1 Nicholson’s translation of these twopassages from the Mathnawī has beenslightly modified (“no” for “not” and“but” for “except”) to show moreclearly the relevance to the presentdiscussion.

2 “The Divine Love is the Sun ofperfection: the (Divine) Word is itslight, the creatures are as shadows”(VI, 983).

3 See Guénon, “Oriental Metaphysics,”p. 12.

4 “You are of where, (but) your originis in Nowhere.” (II, 612). “If he that is‘born of the Spirit’ is like the wind ofwhich thou ‘canst not tell whence itcometh, and whither it goeth,’ this isbecause, being identifi ed with the Self,he is without origin; he has come forthfrom the chain of cosmic causation anddwells in the Changeless.” Schuon,Gnosis: Divine Wisdom, p. 85.

5 Th is poem is not included in thecritical edition of the Dīwān byFurūzānfar (which appeared manyyears after Nicholson’s book), thoughit is found in some manuscripts

and uncritical editions, and it is from

these that Nicholson must have takenit. Although it is probably spurious, itdoes represent Rumi’s perspective.

6 See Guénon, “Oriental Metaphysics,”p. 12.

7 Quoted in Nasr, Three Muslim Sages,p. 107.

8 “ ‘No man hath ascended up toheaven, but he that came down fromheaven.’ To ‘ascend up to heaven’ is to‘become One-self,’ that is to say, tobecome that which one had never reallyceased to be, in the sense that theessence of the ego is the Self, that‘Life’ which we can only purchase by

losing the life of ‘me.’ ” Schuon,Gnosis: Divine Wisdom, p. 85.

9 Or “I am the Truth.” The reference isto al-Hallāj.

10 It is of course true that the conceptof the “nafs” in Sufism is much morecomplicated than what might beindicated by the present discussion. Forexample, in section 3 below it ispointed out that the individual selfmust be transformed on the spiritualpath. This transformation is oftendescribed in terms of the three stagesof the nafs according to the Quranicterminology: the nafs-i ammārah (“thesoul which incites” to evil) with which

we are essentially concerned here, thenafs-i lawwāmah (“the soul whichreproaches” itself for its ownshortcomings), and the nafs-imutma’innah (“the soul at peace” withGod).

12 Gulshan-i Rāz, verses 412-13.

13 See Schuon, “Religio Perennis,” inLight on the Ancient Worlds, chapter 9.

14 This is not a redundancy. Schuon haspointed out the importance of theconcept of the “relatively absolute” ina number of his writings. See forexample Transcendent Unity ofReligions, pp. 110-11 and Stations of

Wisdom, pp. 27-28.

15 Far from being synonymous withsterility and dull conformity,orthodoxy in the traditional sense is theguarantee that a doctrine expresses thesupraformal Truth on the formal planein a manner conformable to theconditions of that plane. See Schuon,“Orthodoxy and Intellectuality,” inStations of Wisdom, chapter 1.

16 On concentration in Sufism seeBurckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, pp. 112 ff. and Nasr, “Sufismand the Integration of Man,” in SufiEssays, chapter 2.

17 On spiritual virtue see Schuon,Spiritual Perspectives and HumanFacts, London, 1954, Part IV;Burckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, pp. 107-12; and Schuon, Un-derstanding Islam, pp. 130-33.

18 See Mathnawī, I, 34; IV, p. 508; andV, 3922.

19 All initiates who faithfully followthe disciplines of the Path do, however,in the words of Shaykh al-‘Alawī, “risehigh enough to have at least inwardPeace.” Quoted in Lings, A Sufi Saintof the Twentieth Century, p. 22.

20 On the spiritual states and stations

see Nasr, “The Spiritual States inSufism,” Sufi Essays, chapter 5.

21 On invocation and meditation seeBurckhardt, Introduction to SufiDoctrine, part two, chapters 3 and 4.

22 On the relationship of Sufism tomusic see Nasr, “The Influence ofSufism on Traditional Persian Music,”Studies in Comparative Religion, vol.6, 1972, pp. 225-34; also in IslamicCulture, 1971 (no. 3), pp. 171-79.

23 “Th is unhealthy taste for research,real ‘mental restlessness’ without endand without issue, shows itself at itsvery plainest in modern philosophy, the

greater part of which represents nomore than a series of quite artifi cialproblems, which only exist becausethey are badly propounded, owing theirorigin and survival to nothing butcarefully kept up verbal confusions” R.Guénon, East and West, London, 1941,pp. 85-86.

24 A hadīth of the Prophet.

BiographicalNotes

WILLIAM C. CHITTICK is a professorin the Department of Asian andAsianAmerican Studies at the StateUniversity of New York, Stony Brook.He is author and translator of twenty-five books and one hundred articles onSufism, Shī‘ism, and Islamic thoughtin general. Among his publications areThe Sufi Path of Love: The SpiritualTeachings of Rumi (1983), The Psalmsof Islam (1988), The Self-Disclosure ofGod: Principles of Ibn al-‘Arabī’sCosmology (1998), Sufism: A Short

Introduction (2000), The Heart ofIslamic Philosophy: The Quest for Self-Knowledge in the Teachings of Afdalal-Dīn Kāshānī (2001), and Me &Rumi: The Autobiography of Shams-iTabrizi (2004).

SEYYED HOSSEIN NASR isUniversity Professor of Islamic Studiesat the George Washington University.The author of over fifty books and fivehundred articles, he is one of theworld’s most respected writers andspeakers on Islam, its arts and sciences,and its traditional mystical path,Sufism. His publications include SufiEssays, Knowledge and the Sacred,Religion and the Order of Nature, A

Young Muslim’s Guide to the ModernWorld, The Heart of Islam: EnduringValues for Humanity, and Islam:Religion, History, and Civilization. Avolume in the prestigious Library ofLiving Philosophers series has beendedicated to his thought.

For a glossary of all key foreign wordsused

in books published by World Wisdom,including

metaphysical terms in English, consult:www.DictionaryofSpiritualTerms.com.

Th is on-line Dictionary of SpiritualTerms

provides extensive defi nitions,examples and related

terms in other languages.

Titles in theSpiritual Masters:

East & WestSeries

The Essential Swami Ramdas:Commemorative Edition,

compiled by Susunaga Weeraperuma,2005

The Essentials of Shinran: The Path ofTrue Faith,

edited by Alfred Bloom, 2006

The Golden Age of Zen: Zen Masters ofthe T’ang Dynasty,

by John C.H. Wu, 2003

Hōnen the Buddhist Saint: EssentialWritings and Offi cial Biography,

edited by Joseph A. Fitzgerald, 2006

Introduction to Hindu Dharma: The68th Jagadguru of Kanchipuram,

edited by Michael Oren Fitzgerald,2006

The Laughing Buddha of Tofukuji: TheLife of Zen Master Keido Fukushima,

by Ishwar C. Harris, 2004

Life and Teaching of Sri AnandamayiMa,

by Alexander Lipsky and SriAnandamayi Ma, 2006

Messenger of the Heart: The Book ofAngelus Silesius,

translated, introduced, and drawn byFrederick Franck, 2005

Paths to Transcendence: According toShankara, Ibn Arabi & Meister

Eckhart,by Reza Shah-Kazemi, 2006

The Sufi Doctrine of Rūmī: IllustratedEdition,

by William C. Chittick, 2005

Tierno Bokar: The Sufi Sage from Mali,by Amadou Hampaté Bā, translated by

Fatima Jane Casewit, 2007