Sufi Orders

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[Excerpts]

"The Sufi Orders in Islam"

J. Spencer Trimingham (1971)


The Formation of Schools of Mysticism

The term sufi was first applied to Muslim ascetics who clothed themselves in coarse garments of wool (suf). From it comes the form tasawwuf for 'mysticism'. There are excellent guides to Islamic mysticism and all that is necessary by way of introduc­tion is to give some idea of how I am using the terms sufi and Sufism in the context of this study on the mystical Ways and their expression in orders.

I define the word sufi in wide terms by applying it to anyone who believes that it is possible to have direct experience of God and who is prepared to go out of his way to put himself in a state whereby he may be enabled to do this. Many will not be happy nhout this definition, but I find it the only possible way to embrace nil the varieties of people involved in the orders.

The term Sufism as used in this book is equally comprehensive. 11 embraces those tendencies in Islam which aim at direct com­munion between God and man. It is a sphere of spiritual experience which runs parallel to the main stream of Islamic consciousness driving from prophetic revelation and comprehended within the Sliari'a and theology. This contrast is the reason for the enmity legalists have always borne towards Sufism, for it means that the mystics are claiming a knowledge of the Real (al-Haqq, their term for God) that could not be gained through revealed religion " hirh in Islam became codified religion.

Mysticism is a particular method of approach to Reality (Haqiqa, another special Sufi term), making use of intuitive and ini»tional spiritual faculties which are generally dormant and latent unless called into play through training under guidance. I in iraining, thought of as 'travelling the Path' (salak af-tariq), aims at dispersing the veils which hide the self from the Real and thereby become transformed or absorbed into undifferentiate Unity. It is not primarily an intellectual process, though the experience of the mystic led to the formulation of various types of mystical philosophy, but rather a reaction against the external rationalization of Islam in law and systematic theology, aiming at spiritual freedom whereby man's intrinsic intuitive spiritual senses could be allowed full scope. The various Ways (turuq, sing, tango) are concerned with this process, and it is with the historical develop­ment, practical organization, and modes of worship of
these Ways that this book is concerned.

Early Sufism was a natural expression of personal religion in relation to the expression of religion as a communal matter. It was an assertion of a person's right to pursue a life of contempla­tion, seeking contact with the source of being and reality, over against institutionalized religion based on authority, a one-way Master-slave relationship, with its emphasis upon ritual obser­vance and a legalistic morality. The spirit of Qur'anic piety had flowed into the lives and modes of expression, as in the form of 'recollection' (dhikr), of the early devotees (zuhhad] and ascetics (nussdk). Sufism was a natural development out of these tendencies manifest in early Islam, and it continued to stress them as an essential aspect of the Way. These seekers after direct experience of communion with God ensured that Islam was not confined within a legalistic directive.

Their aim was to attain ethical per­ception (we shall see how this was to recur in later developments) and this was redirected or transformed to the aim of the Sufis to attain mystical perception.

Sufism was a natural development within Islam, owing little to non-Muslim sources, though receiving radiations from the ascetical-mystical life and thought of eastern Christianity. The outcome was an Islamic mysticism following distinctive Islamic lines of development. Subsequently, a vast and elaborate mystical system was formed which, whatever it may owe to neo-Platonism, gnosticism, Christian mysticism, or other systems, we may truly regard, as did the Sufis themselves, as 'the inner doctrine of Islam, the underlying mystery of the Qur'an'.

Sufism has received much attention from Western scholars, yet the study of the development, writings, beliefs, and practices of the orders which are its objective expression has scarcely been attempted. Sufism in practice is primarily contemplative and emotional mysticism. As the organized cultivation of religious experience it is not a philosophical system, though it developed such a system, but it is a 'Way', the Way of purification. This practical aspect is our main concern. Sufi teaching and practice were diffused throughout the Islamic world through the growth of particular Ways which were disseminated among the people through the medium of religious orders, and as a religious move­ment displayed many aspects.

The foundation of the orders is the system and relationship of master and disciple, in Arabic murshid (director) and murid (aspirant). It was natural to accept the authority and guidance of those who had traversed the stages (maqamat) of the Sufi Path. Masters of the Way say that every man has inherent within him the possibility for release from self and union with God, but this is latent and dormant and cannot be released, except with certain illuminates gifted by God, without guidance from a leader.

The early masters were more concerned with experiencing than with theosophical theorizing. They sought to guide rather than teach, directing the aspirant in ways of meditation whereby he himself acquired insight into spiritual truth and was shielded against the dangers of illusions. Sufism in practice consists of feeling and unveiling, since ma'rifa (gnosis) is reached by passage through ecstatic states. Consequently teaching succeeds rather than precedes experience. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, a theorist of ethical mysticism, writes of his own realization that what is most peculiar to Sufis 'cannot be learned but only attained by direct experience, ecstasy, and inward transformation'. The drunken man knows nothing about the definition, causes, and conditions of drunkenness, yet he is drunk, whilst the sober man acquainted with the theory is not drunk. Al-Ghazali's own intellectual back­ground, his inability to submit himself unreservedly to guidance,
imposed too great a barrier for him to attain direct Sufi experience. Teaching about the state of fana (transmutation of self) will not help anyone to attain it, only guidance under an experienced director. Hence the great importance the guides attached to per­mission to recite adhkar (mystical exercises) and undertake re­treats, for thereby the burden is adjusted to the capacity of the individual.

A tariqa was a practical method (other terms were madhhab, ri'dya, and suliik) to guide a seeker by tracing a way of thought, feeling, and action, leading through a succession of 'stages' (maqdmat, in integral association with psychological experiences called 'states', ahwaT) to experience of divine Reality (haqiqd). At first a tariqa meant simply this gradual method of contempla­tive and soul-releasing mysticism. Circles of disciples began to gather around an acknowledged master of the Way, seeking train­ing through association or companionship, but not linked to him by any initiatory tie or vow of allegiance.

Two contrasting tendencies came to be distinguished as Junaidi and Bistami, or 'Iraqi and Khurasan! (but must not be taken too seriously or called schools of thought) after two men, Abu'l-Qasim al-Junaid (d. 298/910) and Abu Yazid Taifur al-Bistami (d. 260/874), who captured the imaginations more than any other of their contemporaries. These two are held to embody the con­trasts between the way based on tawakkul (trust) and that on malama (blame), between intoxicated and sober, safe and sus­pect, illuminate and conformist, solitude and companionship, theist and monist, guidance under a this-world director (with a chain of transmitters to regularize in conformity with standard Islamic practice) and guidance under a spirit-shaikh.

'Ali al-Hujwri refers to Bistami's teaching, which he calls Tai-furi, as characterized by ghalaba (rapture, ecstasy) and sukr (intoxication); whereas that derived from al-Junaid 'is based on sobriety (sahw) and is opposed to that of the Tayfuris ... It is the best-known and most celebrated of all doctrines, and all the Shaykhs have adopted it, notwithstanding that there is much difference in their sayings on the ethics of Sufiism.'* Because he won the approval of orthodoxy as relatively 'safe', al-Junaid comes to be regarded as 'the Shaikh of the Way', the common ancestor of most subsequent mystical congregations, even though many followed heterodox teaching; his inclusion in their genealogies was a guarantee of orthodoxy, for a sound isndd can support a multitude of heresies.

* Junaid as the apostle of moderation (though he in fact held esoteric views) sought to tone down and explain away his ecstatic utterances. The ideas of a far more significant contemporary, al-Hakim at-Tirniidhi, fell into oblivion until resurrected by the genius of Ibn al Arabi.

These groups were very loose and mobile; members travelled widely seeking masters, some earning their way, others supporting themselves upon alms. But foundations came into being which served as centres for these wanderers. In Arab regions many were attached to frontier-posts or hostels called ribdt',1 those in Khu­rasan were associated with rest-houses or hospices (khanaqdh2), whilst others were the retreat (khalwa or zdzoiya) of a spiritual director. All these terms came to mean a Sufi convent. An early ribdt was found on 'Abbadan island (the name itself is significant) on the Persian Gulf, which grew up around an ascetic called 'Abd al-Wahid ibn Zaid (d. 177/793), survived his death, and became especially well known.3 Other ribdts were found on the marches with Byzantium and in north Africa. Centres for de­votees are mentioned at Damascus around 150/767, at Ramlah, capital of Palestine, founded by a Christian amir before a.d. 8oo,4 in Khurasan about
the same time, whilst 'there appeared in Alex­andria an organization (td'ifa) calling itself as-Sufiyya' in the year A.H. 200.5

By the fifth/eleventh century organized convents of a quite different character had become numerous, though they still re­tained their character as collections of individuals pursuing their own way, even though they associated with and sought guidance from experienced men and ascribed themselves to such guides. The personnel of these places was still impermanent and migrant, and they adopted the bare minimum of institutional rules con­cerning their day-to-day life. Such Sufi 'companionship' (suhbd) rules eventually became a religious obligation.

[Note: The first such work, though concerned with general ethical relationships, appears to be Adah as-suhba, by as-Sulami (330/941-412/1021), edited by M. J. Kisler, 1954. 'Ali al-Hujwiri refers to a number of treatises explaining the rules; see Kashf.]

Al-Maqdisi, whose range of interests was wider than that of most geographers, gives some information about Sufi groups. He says that in Shiraz 'Sufis were numerous, performing the dhikr (yukabbir) in their mosques after the Friday prayer and reciting blessings on the Prophet from the pulpit'.1 As an organized movement he shows that the Karramiyya2 in his time (he is writing around a.d. 975) was more effective, having khanaqahs all over Islamic Asia,3 and it seems that it was from them that Sufis adopted the khanaqah system. The only reference I have come across in al-Maqdisi to a khanaqah where Sufi exercises take place is, 'There was a khanaqah in Dabil [Dwin, capital of Ar­menia] whose inmates were gnostics ('arifs) in the system of tasawwuf, living in the straitest poverty.'4 Yet the Karramiyya was relatively short-lived (two centuries) whereas the Sufi move­ment went on from an individualistic discipline to change the whole devotional outlook of
Muslims.

In the Syrian Jawlan mountains al-Maqdisi writes: 'I met Abu Ishaq al-Ballutl with forty men, all wearing wool, who had a place for worship where they congregated. I found out that this man was a learned jurist of the school of Sufyan ath-Thawri, and that their sustenance consisted of acorns (balliif), a fruit the size of dates, bitter, which is split, sweetened, ground up and then mixed with wild barley.'5
Al-Maqdisi was assiduous in seeking new experiences as well as geographical information, and the following engaging account shows that organized congregations existed in his time and that you needed to belong to one to gain insight into Sufi experience, as well as showing that it was as easy to be a false Sufi in those days as at any other:

#When I entered Sus [in Khuzistan] I sought out the main mosque, seeking a shaikh whom I might question concerning points of hadith. It chanced that I was wearing njubba of Cypriot wool and a Basran/wte, and I was directed to a congregation of Sufis. As I approached they took it for granted that I was a Sufi and welcomed me with open arms. They settled me among them and began questioning me. Then they sent a man to bring food. I felt ill at ease about taking the food since I had not associated with such a group before this occasion. They showed sur­prise at my reluctance and absention from their ceremonial.1 I felt drawn to associate myself with this congregation and find out about their method, and learn the true nature [of Sufism]. So I said within myself, 'This is your opportunity, here where you are unknown.' I therefore threw off all restraint with them, stripping the veil of bash-fulness from off my face. On one occasion I might engage in
antiphonal singing with them, on another I might yell with them, and at another recite poems to them. I would go out with them to visit ribdts and to engage in religious recitals, with the result, by God, that I won a place both in their hearts and in the hearts of the people of that place to an extraordinary degree. I gained a great reputation, being visited [for my virtue] and being sent presents of garments and purses, which I would accept but immediately hand over intact to the Sufis, since I was well off, having ample means. Every day I used to spend engaged in devotions, and what devotions! and they used to suppose I did it out of piety. People began touching me [to obtain baraka] and broadcasting my fame, saying that they had never seen a more excellent faqir. So it went on until, when the time came that I had penetrated into their secrets and learnt all that I wished, I just ran away from them at dead of night and by morning had got well clear.#

Whilst some centres of withdrawal, more especially the ribdts and khanaqahs which were supported by endowments (awqdf), became permanent centres, those which were based upon the reputation of a particular master broke up after his death. Most masters were themselves migrants. There were no self-continua-tive orders, but groups of people possessing similar spiritual aspirations who had become disciples of an honoured master with whom the bond of allegiance was purely personal..

The eleventh century marks a turning-point in the history of Islam. Among other things it was characterized by the suppression of Shi'ism, which had attained political power in the dynasties of the Fatimids of north Africa and the Buyids of Persia, where even then it seemed likely to become the Persian form of Islam. The overthrow of political Shii'ism was brought about by the Seljuq rulers of Turkish nomads from central Asia. In a.d. 1055 they gained control of Baghdad and took over tutelage of the 'Abbasid caliph from the Buyids. In the Maghrib and Egypt the power of the Fatimids weakened1 until finally they were overthrown by the Kurd Saladin in A.D. 1171.

[Note: The Zirids of Ifriqiya, Berber vassals of the Fatimids, repudiated their authority. Al-Mu'izz's recognition of the 'Abbasid caliph in the kkutba is ascribed to various dates between 433/1041 and 437/1045. In far western Islam other nomads, the Murabitun, ensured the triumph of Sunnism in its Malik! form when Sanhaja from western Sahara overwhelmed Morocco (at the time the Seljuqs were taking Baghdad) and then Spain (Battle of Zallaqa in a.d. 1086).]

The Turks were upholders of the Sunna and opponents of Shi'ite tendencies. The counter-revolution they accomplished in the Islamic sphere took the form of the reorganization of the madrasa from a private school, a circle around a learned master, to an official institution to which the Seljuqs ensured the recruit­ment of masters sympathetic to their religious policy. In these institutions the stress was placed on the religious sciences, whilst the profane sciences which had flourished equally under the early 'Abbasid and Shi'ite dynasties were discouraged or banned. The new form of madrasa soon spread from Iraq into Syria, Egypt, and eventually the Maghrib.2

But Islamic religious spirit could not be limited and confined within this institution alone and the cultivation of the deeper spiritual life took the form of the parallel institution of the organ­ized, endowed, and supervised khanaqah with which the Seljuqs were familiar from those of the Karramiyya in central Asia and Iran. The institution is a means of control, but it is to their credit that they encouraged the foundation of khanaqahs and endowed them liberally.

The speculative Sufi spirit was viewed with suspicion. The dissociation of Sufis from recognized religious leaders had always been suspected and resented by the 'ulama (doctors of law), and provoked a reaction to which Shihab ad-din Yahya as-Suhrawardi fell victim.

Note: This Suhrawardi is to be distinguished from the tariqa leaders bearing the same nisba by the epithet al-Maqtul, 'the Martyr'. He taught in Anatolia at the court of Qilij Arslan II and his son, and wrote a number of remarkable theo-sophical works before he was tried and executed, martyr to the fanaticism of the orthodox 'ulama of Aleppo, by al-Malik az-Zahir at the order of Saladin, at the age of 38 in 587/1191.]

But it was the formation of esoteric and mystical congregations outside the regular organization of Islam, together with the liturgical organization of the samd', or spiritual concert for inducing ecstasy, which was more likely to provoke the reaction of the orthodox than suspect ideas.

By the end of the fifth century A.H.. the change in the attitude of Islamic legalists towards a grudging and qualified acceptance of Sufism, begun by as-Sulami and his disciple al-Qushairl, had been brought to a conclusion by al-Ghazall, whilst the need for associa­tions caring for religious needs other than the ritual sanctified and fixed by the Law was recognized. The association of Sufism in its khanaqah form with the official favour of Nur ad-din, Saladin, and their lieutenants and successors had made Sufi associations respectable. When the formation of separate congregations for liturgical 'recitals' became possible there began the development of an inner Islam with its own leaders, hierarchy, and forms of worship. But though accommodated in this way orthodoxy and mysticism followed not only separate but divergent paths. This is shown by the parallel institutional development of madrasas and khanaqahs. The next stage is the formation of mystical
schools consisting of circles of initiates. When this reconciliation or com­promise was accomplished Sufism was still a Way which appealed only to the few, and the Sunni doctors had no conception of what was to happen when it was mediated to the people in the form of a popular movement.

From the eleventh century the zdwiyas and khanaqahs wrhich provided temporary resting-places for wandering Sufis spread the new devotional life throughout the countryside and played a decisive role in the Islamization of borderland and non-Arab regions in central Asia and north Africa. By the twelfth century many khanaqahs had become rich and flourishing establishments and Ibn Jubair, who travelled (a.d. 1183-5) m the near East in Saladin's time, writes of Damascus:

#Ribats for Sufis, which here go under the name of khawdniq, are numerous. They are ornamented palaces through all of which flow streams of water, presenting as delightful a picture as anyone could wish for. The members of this type of Sufi organization are really the kings in these parts, since God has provided for them over and above the material things of life, freeing their minds from concern with the need to earn their living so that they can devote themselves to His service. He has lodged them in palaces which provide them with a fore­taste of those of Paradise. So these fortunates, the favoured ones among the Sufis, enjoy through God's favour the blessings of this world and the next. They follow an honourable calling and their life in common is admirably conducted. Their mode of conducting their forms of wor­ship is peculiar. Their custom of assembling for impassioned musical recitals (samd') is delightful. Sometimes, so enraptured do some of
these absorbed ecstatics become when under the influence of a state that they can hardly be regarded as belonging to this world at all.#

However, it was not through such establishments that the next development in Sufi institutionalism took place but through a single master, sometimes settled in a retreat far from the dis­tractions of khanaqdh life, sometimes in his zdwiya home in the big city, frequently a wanderer travelling around with his circle of disciples. Ibn Jubair occasionally mentions these humble ascetics of desert or mountain if something special calls them to his attention, such as when he finds Christians paying tribute to their dedication to the religious life.2

From the beginning of the thirteenth century certain centres (if we think of the centre as being a man, not a place) became the sees of tariqas, mystical schools or teaching centres. This happened when a centre or circle became focused on one director in a new way and turned into a school designed to perpetuate his name, type of teaching, mystical exercises, and rule of life. Each such tarlqa was handed down through a continuous 'chain' (silsila), or mystical isndd.3 The derivative shaikhs are, therefore, the spiritual heirs of the founder.

The link of a person with this silsila acquired an esoteric charac­ter, and initiation, whereby the seeker swore an oath of allegiance to founder and earthly deputy and received in return the secret wird which concentrates the spiritual power of the chain, was the means of gaining this link. Ibn Khallikan describes fuqard' having such a tie ('uqda, i'tiqdd) with Ibn ar-Rifa'I (d. a.d. 1182),' whose silsila is probably the earliest consciously maintained chain.2

The silsila-path was not intended to replace the formal Muslim religious organization which the Sufis regarded as a necessary concession (rukhsa) to human frailty. This development can be regarded as the beginning of the process whereby the creative freedom of the mystic was to be channelled into an institution. These paths never developed sectarian tendencies. Their founders maintained careful links with the orthodox institution and did not repudiate the formal duties of Islam. One of their functions in Islamic life was to fill the gap left through the suppression of Shi'i sectarianism. The difference between the paths lay in such aspects as loyalty to the head of the order and belief in a particular power-line, in types of organization, methods of teaching, peculiar practices and ritual. They differed considerably in their inner beliefs, but their link with orthodoxy was guaranteed by their acceptance of the law and ritual practices of Islam. All the
same they formed inner coteries within Islam and introduced a hier­archical structure and modes of spiritual outlook and worship foreign to its essential genius.

How this process of ascription came about is not clear. Pupils had normally traced or ascribed3 their madhhab (method), or tariqa (course), to their revered teacher, for he was their guarantee of validity and training, but so far this had been primarily a direct personal link. It is true 'All al-Hujwiri (d. c. 467/1074) enumerates twelve schools of Sufism:

#The whole body of aspirants to Sufiism is composed of twelve sects, two of which are condemned (mardud), while the remaining ten are approved (maqbul). The latter are the Muhasibis, the Qassaris, the Tayfuris, the Junaydis, the Nurls, the Sahlls, the Hakimls, the Khar-razis, the Khafifis, and the Sayyarls. All these assert the truth and belong to the mass of orthodox Muslims. The two condemned sects are, firstly, the Hululis, who derive their name from the doctrine of incarna­tion (hulul) and incorporation (imtizaj), and with whom are connected the Salimi sect of anthropomorphists; and secondly, the Hallajis, who have abandoned the sacred law and have adopted heresy, and with whom are connected the Ibahatis and the Farisis.#

But these are theoretical ways, none of which developed into silsila-tariqas. Their teaching was modified by their pupils in accordance with their own mystical experiences. In fact, al-Hujwlri singles out as exceptional the transmission from Abu '!-'Abbas as-Sayyari whose 'school of Sufiism is the only one that has kept its original doctrine unchanged, and the cause of this fact is that Nasa and Merv have never been without some person who acknowledged his authority and took care that his followers should maintain the doctrine of their founder'.2

The names of certain of these early masters were incorporated in the mystical isnads of the tariqas. The key figure in the lines of most tariqas is Abu '1-Qasim al-Junaid (d. a.d. 910), yet Dhu 'n-Nun al-Misri, though continually quoted in support of mystical thought,3 is missing from the isnads. Similarly, Husain ibn Mansur al-Hallaj is not normally found in them (though a Way was later attributed to him), whereas al-Bistami is found in the chains of many orders (for example, the Naqshabandiyya).4 Al-WasitI, writing around a.d. 1320 when the Ways were fully established, says that there were two distinct primitive sanads to which all the then existing khirqas went back, the Junaidi and the Bistami,5 and two extinct lines, the Bilaliyya and the Uwaisiyya.6 The grounds for incorporation in the chains, or for their rejection, are not made clear. It is not a simple question of condemnation by orthodoxy. Some figure as founders of artificial tariqas, and we
have just mentioned that attributed to al-Hallaj ;7 that is, specific esoteric doctrines, dhikrs, and rules were ascribed to them in books of khirqa lines such as as-Sanusi's Salsabil, and certain masters would claim to initiate into the dhikrs of these figures. One of the earliest was Uwais al-Qarani, a Yemeni contemporary of the Prophet.8 The method (tariqa or madhhab) of al-Junaid was known to al-Hujwm,1 and is mentioned in the thirteenth century in Ibn 'Ata" Allah's treatise on the dhikr2 which gives the eight stipulations of his Way. This method, though, was not confined to one line, but was inherited by all the Junaidi orders.3

The true silsila-tariqas had a new element, not merely the teacher-pupil relationship which had prevailed so far, but the fuller one of director and disciple. A new aura emanates from the master as a wali(protege) of God, which eventually, in the third stage, was to become belief in his mediumship and intercessory status with God. The Sufi life of recollection and meditation now becomes increasingly associated with a line of ascription so far as the majority of Sufi aspirants were concerned. Murshids (guide-initiators) bestowed the tariqa, its wird, formulae, and symbols, as from their dead master and guided their own pupils along his Way in his name. This was primarily a consequence of the Islamic ideal of providing oneself with an isndd of guarantee and authority. The distinction within Sufism between Sufis and Malamatis now becomes defined, the Sufis being those who submit to direction and conformity and the Malamatis are those who retain their
freedom.4

The change in the Sufis can be seen in the nature of the bond which unites them. The earlier groups had been linked by en­thusiasm, common devotions, and methods of spiritual discipline, with the aim of stripping the soul and eliminating self to attain vision of Reality. They were, therefore, integrated by spirit and aim rather than by any formal organization, and were, in fact, very loose organizations. The change came with the development of such a collegium pietatis into a collegium initiati whose members ascribed themselves to their initiator and his spiritual ancestry, and were prepared to follow his Path and transmit it themselves to future generations.

The transformation of Sufi companionships into initiatory colleges began with the Sunni triumphs over ShI'ite dynasties (Buyids in Baghdad, a.d. 1055: Fatimids in Egypt, a.d. 1171), and was settled during the troubled time of the Mongol conquests (Baghdad, a.d. 1258), which were accompanied by considerable Sufi migrations whereby it became a rural, as well as urban, move­ment of the spirit. A significant feature of the change is that the groups, about the time of Saladin, took over the Shi'ite custom of bai'a, initiation with oath of allegiance to the shaikh. There was also some linkage with and transmission from artisan futuwwa orders, another compensatory reaction against the suppression of open Shi'ism. Futuwwa orders were brought into prominence by Caliph an-Nasir's (a.d. 1219-36) attempt to create a knightly futuwwa, with whose patronage the great murshid, Shihab ad-din Abu Hafs as-Suhrawardi, was associated, acting as an-Nasir's envoy in girding
those grandees whom the Caliph wished to honour.

The tariqas which became the most significant for the develop­ment of institutional Sufism were the Suhrawardiyya attributed to Diya" ad-din Abu Najib as-Suhrawardi (d. a.d. 1168), but developed by his nephew, the just-mentioned Shihab ad-din Abu Hafs (d. a.d. 1234); the Qadiriyya attributed to 'Abd al-Qadir al-jllani (d. a.d. 1166), whose line of ascription did not extend before the fourteenth century; the Rifa'iyya deriving from Ahmad ibn ar-Rifa'i (d. a.d. 1182); the nomadic Yasaviyya of Ahmad al-Yasavi (d. a.d. 1166); the Kubrawiyya of Najm ad-din Kubra (d. a.d. 1221); the Chishtiyya of Mu'in ad-din M. Chishti (d. a.d. 1236), mainly confined to India; the Shadhiliyya deriving from Abu Madyan Shu'aib (d. a.d. 1197) but attributed to Abu '1-Hasan 'All ash-Shadhili (d. a.d. 1258); the Badawiyya of Ahmad al-Badawi (d. a.d. 1276) centred in Egypt; the Mawlawiyya inspired by the Persian Sufi poet, Jalal ad-din ar-Rumi (d. a.d. a.d. 1273), which was
restricted to Anatolia; and the central Asian Naqshabandiyya, a mystical school, first called Khwajagan, which owes its initial insights to Yusuf al-Hamadani (d. a.d. 1140) and 'Abd al-Khaliq al-Ghujdawani (d. a.d. 1179), but was eventually associated with the name of Muhammad Baha' ad-din an-Naqshabandi (d. a.d. 1389). All subsequent tariqas claim to be derivatives of one or more of these chains. An account of the founders of these lines and their principal characteristics will be given in the next chapter when other masters, such as Ahmad al-Ghazali and 'Ali al-Kharaqani, who played an important role in founding lines but do not have a silsila named after them, will be given the recognition that is their due.

Many other groups continued for a time as family or localized orders, but unlike the Qadiriyya, which also was for long a restricted family order, did not lead to the formation of distinc­tive Ways such as those just mentioned. Such was the Ruzbihaniyya founded in Shiraz by Ruzbihan Baqli(d. a.d. 1209), which became hereditary from the death of the founder1 but did not spread out­side Pars or even survive for very long. Ibn Khallikan mentions the Kizaniyya founded in Cairo by Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad, known as Ibn al-Kizani (d. 562/1167),2 as such a tarlqa manque. Of another he writes:

#Yunus ibn Yusuf ibn Musa'id ash-Shaibani, shaikh of the fuqara known after him as the Yunusiyya, was a holy man. I asked a group of his followers who was his shaikh and they replied, 'He had no shaikh, he was a majdhub.' By this word they designate one who has no shaikh but has been attracted (judhiba) to a life of piety and sanctity . . . He died in 619 (a.d. 1222-3) in his village of al-Qunayya in the province of Dara [in the Jazira], where his tomb is well known and attracts pilgrims.#

Yunus's great-grandson, Saif ad-din Rajihi b. Sabiq b. Hilal b. Yunus (d. 706/1306) went to live in Damascus where he was allotted the house of the wazir Amin ad-dawla for his zawiya as well as a village in the Ghuta. From that time his line became a hereditary td'ifa, with a branch in Jerusalem, and was still in existence in 1500.*

[Note: The Ruzbihaniyya was a simple td'ifa, a derivative of the Kazeruniyya, a tariqa which later changed its role into a religio-commercial guild. Accounts of the sons and grandsons of Ruzbihan (who were also invested with the Suhra-wardi khirqa) are given by Abu '1-Qasim Junaid ShirazI, Shadd al-izdr fi khatt al-awzdr 'an zuwwdr al-mazdr (written 791/1389), ed. M. Qazwmi and 'Abbas Iqbal, Tehran, 1338/1910, pp. 227-39, 243-54. The tomb-centre in Shiraz was still famous when Ibn Battuta visited that city in 1325 (Paris edn., ii. 83), but after Junaid Shirazi's time it fell into oblivion.]

There were many other small independent-lineage tariqas which had only a restricted local influence, but those mentioned above, together with the western Turkish Khalwatiyya, were the founda­tion lines sponsoring distinctive Ways of mystical thought and spiritual exercises. Through these tariqas the Sufi message was mediated to the Islamic world.

[Note: One such early family tariqa which had great influence upon Islamic life in Hadramawt and has survived until the present day is the 'Alawiyya in south Arabia, founded by Muhammad ibn 'AH of the Ba 'Alawi tribe (574/1178-653/1255) who was initiated into the Way deriving from Abu Madyan Shu'aib, but developed his independent Way. He is said to have been the first to intro­duce Sufi discipline (tahkim) into Hadramawt. An example of a Dama­scene family zdwiya which survived for some time without expanding was the Qawamiyya-Balisiyya, founded by Abu Bakr ibn Qawam ibn 'Ali al-Balisi (584/1188-658/1260).]

The silsila founders belonged to two main schools of Sufi thought which may be designated as the Junaidi and Bistami schools, or the Mesopotamian and central Asian, though the exponents were not confined to these areas. Later, Maghrib! Sufism, deriving from Abu Madyan (d. a.d. 1197), was to form a third area with its own special characteristics, but though the main silsila-founder, ash-Shadhili, came from the Maghrib, he and his successors only received recognition and encourage­ment in Egypt and his line of attribution did not become popular in the Maghrib until much later.

Antinomian tendencies were stronger in Khorasan and central Asia, though by no means exclusive to these areas, but such elements are not seen in the silsila-founders, who were frequently men trained in the legal sciences. They were strong among the large numbers of vagrant dervishes (malamatis and qalandarts) unattached to any recognized master or line, who were above the Law. But once silsilas were established and recognized as Sunni they could incorporate all sorts of other elements.

Sufism had now become a profession and this period is charac­terized by a great growth of unspecialized Sufi establishments. The popularity of the Persian-type hospices in particular is asso­ciated with the Seljuq period as can be seen from any list of the dates when these were founded,1 and the tendency accelerated under the Ayyubids. Saladin welcomed Asiatic Sufis to Egypt and he and his followers founded and endowed many khanaqahs, ribdts, and zawiyas of which al-Maqrizi gives a long list.2 Mujir ad-din has accounts of these places in Jerusalem, Hebron, and Damascus.3 Saladin in 585/1189 endowed a Khanaqah Salahiyya in Jerusalem,4 diverting for this purpose the palace of the Latin patriarch.5 His lieutenant in Egypt, Qaraqush ibn 'Abdallah al-Asadi, 'erected a ribdt at al-Maqs',6 whilst Muzaffar ad-din Gokbori, Saladin's brother-in-law (d. 630/1233),

#“built two khanaqdhs [at Irbil] for the Sufis, which housed a large number, both of residents and visitors. Festival days used to draw together so numerous a concourse that everyone marvelled. Both were well endowed to provide all that was needed by those staying there, each of whom must accept his expenses when he departed. Gokbori used to visit them frequently and associate himself with them in con­certs.”#

Ibn Khallikan then describes the pomp with which he celebrated the Prophet's birthday at Irbil in a.d. 1207 when he passed the nights listening to Sufi concerts. Gokbori also built a khanaqah at Aleppo.8

The difference between the institutions mentioned seems to be that the ribdt was an Arab type of hostel or training-centre;9 the khanaqah was the Persian non-training hostel type introduced into the cities of the Arab world; zawiya was the term applied to smaller establishments where one shaikh dwelt with his pupils; whilst a khalwa designated the 'retreat' of a single dervish, fre­quently a cell situated around a mosque square. A more isolated 'hermitage' was sometimes called a rabita.

Mysticism was the only religious sphere where women could find a place. There were many women Sufis, of whom Rabi'a al-'Adawiyya (d. a.d. 801) is the best known.1 During this period there are references to convents for women. Al-Irbilli2 uses the term khdnaqah for convents for men and ribat for those of women. There were seven convents for women in Aleppo alone, all founded between a.d. 1150 and 1250.3 Baghdad also had a number, of which the ribat of Fatima Raziya (d. 521/1127) was the best known. In Cairo there was Ribat al-Baghdadiyya, built by a daughter of al-Malik az-Zahir Baibars in 684/1285 for a shaikha called Zainab ibnat Abi '1-Barakat, known as Bint al-Baghdadiyya, and her followers,4 which still exists in ad-Darb al-Asfar.

Maqrizi says that the first khdnaqah in Egypt was Dar Sa'id as-Su'ada',5 so called (its proper name was as-Salahiyya) from being situated in the confiscated house of Sa'id as-Su'ada', a eunuch employed in the Fatimid palace who was enfranchised by al-Mustansir and put to death in 544/1 i^g.6 It was constituted a waqfin a.d. 1173. Its primary function was to serve as a hostel for foreign Sufis, but it expanded its functions to become the chief centre of Egyptian Sufism. Its shaikh had the official title of shaikh ash-shuyukh,7 which, however, was only honorific and did not imply any wider jurisdiction than that of his own establishment, and later the title was frequently given to heads of other khanaqahs.*

The foundation of khanaqahs continued under the Bahrl (a.d. 1250-77) and other Mamluk successors of the Ayyubids. Ibn Khaldun writes:

#“Since the old days of their masters, the Ayyubid rulers, the members of this Turkish dynasty in Egypt and Syria have been erecting colleges for the teaching of the sciences, and monastic houses for the purpose of enabling the poor [Sufis] to follow the rules for acquiring orthodox Sufi ways of behaviour through dhikr exercises and supererogatory prayers. They took over that [custom] from the preceding caliphal dynasties. They set up buildings for [those institutions as mortmain gifts] and endowed [them] with lands that yielded income [sufficient] to pro­vide stipends for students and Sufi ascetics ... As a result, colleges and monastic houses are numerous in Cairo. They now furnish livings for poor jurists and Sufis.”#

[Note: Ibn Battuta generally uses the word zawiya, the term with which he was most familiar, but in regard to Cairo he has just specified that he is describing convents known under the term khawdniq.]

Ibn Battuta describes these khanaqahs and their rules at the time of his visit to Cairo in a.d. 1326. He writes: 'Each zawiya2 in Cairo is assigned to a fd'ifa of dervishes, most of whom are Per­sians, men of culture and trained in the Way of tasawwuf.'3 This means an organized group, but it is unlikely that that means a group perpetuating a particular rule, certainly not in the govern­ment-sponsored khanaqahs.

Al-Qalqashandi (d. a.d. 1418) describes briefly the relationship of the khanaqahs of Egypt and Syria with the Mamluk authority.4 Since these institutions were in the gift of the Mamluk rulers and often very lucrative to their heads, anyone whom the ruler wished to provide with a sinecure without affecting his own pocket was frequently given the appointment. None of the heads of the Sumaisatiyya (or Salahiyya) khanaqah in Damascus (founded c. 453/1061) seems to have been a Sufi.5 The first to hold the post (which also carried the charge of mashyakhat ash-shuyukh)6 was a former wazir of Khwarazm, Sa'Id ibn Sahl al-Falaki, who was detained in Damascus by Nur ad-din Mahmud b. Zangi (a.d. IJ46-73) and given the post to provide for his support, since all these were zvaqf foundations. In 791/1392 Ibn Khaldun was appointed to the directorship of Khanaqah Baibars.

[Note: Ibn Khaldun, though not a Sufi, was acquainted with the general theory of tasawwuf. Apart from a short account in his Muqaddama he also has a work on the subject]

Whereas the khanaqahs were little more than hostels for Sufis (and concert halls for the great) and ribdts had an indefinite character as the establishment of a teacher or preacher, not necessarily a Sufi, zdwiyas were centres for a genuine teaching shaikh, whose successors consciously carried on his particular teaching and method. Whereas appointments to the headship of khanaqahs was made by the secular authorities, the superior of a zdwiya was elected by the ikhwdn (brethren), and it was in these that hereditary succession began. In the accounts of the religious establishments of the great Muslim cities, their founders, pupils, and successors, only of the zdwiyas do the authors assert or imply continuity of teaching and a particular rule of life. Ibn Battuta lodged in many zdwiyas and eastern khanaqahs distinguished by specific attributions: Suhrawardi in Isfahan (a.d. 1326), Mawlawi in Qonya, and numerous Rifa'i establishments in Anatolia and
Caucasus (a.d. 1332), in Damascus (Hariri branch), as well as the founder-centre in the Bata'ih of Iraq. Of Qonya he writes: 'In this city is the tomb of ... Jalal ad-din, known as Mawlana. An organization (td'ifa) exists in the land of Rum whose members derive from him,2 and are known by his name, being called the Jalaliyya, similar to the derivation of the 'Iraqian Ahmadiyya [= Rifa'iyya], or the Khurasanian Haidariyya. Around his tomb is a large zdwiya in which food is provided for all migrants.'^ These, therefore, were Sufi td'ifas in the full sense.

Ibn Battuta's narrative also demonstrates how important these establishments were in the expansion of Muslim commerce, in accommodation to their Hindu environment, and in the diffusion of Islam. For instance, all along the Malabar coast, which was under Hindu rulers, he was entertained in khanaqahs: at Haunur (near Bombay) at that of Shaikh Muhammad an-Najdri,1 at Ghogah (Bhaunagar) where he came across a company offuqard' Haidariyya,2 and in Kanbaya (Cambay in Gujarat), Calicut, and KSlam (Travancore) where he lodged in the khanaqahs of the Kazeruni Sufi insurance company.3

By Maqrizi's day (a.d. 1364-1442) the lines of derivation were well established. Thus he writes of the fuqard' al-Ahmadiyya ar-Rifd'iyya in Cairo.4 About the same time the Qadiri attribution begins to expand and a branch was formed in Damascus towards the end of the fourteenth century.

[Note: Many of these establishments functioned as pious night clubs, and this is an example. This 'Abd ar-Rahman was a Hanbali who composed a number of books, none of them Sufi. After his death the sultan chose for his successor someone outside his family; subsequent disputes over the leadership were numerous, one superior being murdered in a.d. 1515]

Sufis were frequently allowed the use of mosques for their exercises. Maqrlzi says that the Azhar was open to Sufis and dhikrs were performed there.6 Some were even found in madrasas, Aqbuga's madrasa in the Azhar having a permanent group.7

Iranian regions do not seem to have developed the officially sponsored khanaqah and the change of their Sufi hostels to repre­sentation of a holy line (stage three of change) was not marked by any change of name but by the addition of an honoured tomb, though more commonly the later khanaqahs were new founda­tions in association with a tomb. Later Turk and Mongol rulers rebuilt the tombs of famous saints and associated convents on more magnificent lines.

Sufis trained in these institutions founded daughter lodges in heir own countries or in entirely new pasture grounds, especially in India. They rarely maintained direct contact with the mother institution1 and became independent schools with their own characteristics and tendencies.

The thirteenth century was an age of disturbance and change as the Mongol hordes swept over central Asian Muslim states one after the other, Baghdad being conquered in a.d. 1258. Many refugees fled to those parts of the Muslim world which seemed more remote from the scourge. Among these were Anatolia in the north-west and Hindustan in the south-east. Many Sufis found a new home within the jurisdiction of the Turkish sultanate of Delhi.

Indian Islam seems to have been essentially a holy-man Islam. These migrants in the Hindu environment acquired an aura of holiness, and it was this which attracted Indians to them, rather than formal Islam. There were two categories of Sufis, those asso­ciated with khdnaqahs and the wanderers. The khanaqahs were in a special sense focal points of Islam—centres of holiness, fervour, ascetic exercises, and Sufi training. Contrary to the Arab-world institutions bearing the same Persian name, the Indian khanaqahs grew up around a holy man and became associated with his tariqa and method of discipline and exercises. Two distinctive tariqas were formed.

Mu'In ad-din Chishti of Sijistan (d. a.d. 1236), after a lifetime of wanderings, finally settled at Ajmer, capital of a powerful Hindu state. From him stemmed a silsila which won widespread popularity under his khalifa and successor, Qutb ad-din Bakhtiyar Kaki (d. a.d. 1235), to become eventually the leading Indian tariqa. Of other tariqas only the Suhrawardi gained a following in India. Shihab ad-din himself designated khalifas for India, the chief being Hamid ad-din of Najore (d. a.d. 1274). Others were Nur ad-din Mubarak Ghaznawi (d. 632/1234 at Delhi) and Baha' ad-din Zakariya (d. a.d. 1262 at Multan), probably the most effec­tive organizer of the rule and chain in India, with whom the Persian qalandari poet, 'Iraqi, 'associated' for some twenty years. [Note: His proper name is Fakhr ad-din Ibrahim b. Shahriyar; born Hamadan, a.d. 1213, died Damascus, 1289, and buried near his inspirer, Ibn al-'Arabi.]

These shaikhs acquired such fame that they began to count in the calculations of the ruling authorities. The sultans of Delhi paid honour to those within their sphere of rule, khanaqahs sprang up everywhere, the majority without definite ascriptions. Wandering dervishes, for whom these khanaqahs formed centres for training, meeting, and hospitality, were numerous and acted as cultural agents in spreading and stabilizing Islam.

The attractions of the Sufi Way declined from the time of Muhammad ibn Tughluq (a.d. 1325-51), though not in conse­quence of the restrictions he imposed on leaders and convent activities. It seems rather that Sufism had not yet taken such form as would attract Indians, its outburst as a popular movement was to come later. The decline finds expression in the reflections of Nasir ad-din Mahmud (d. 757/1356), successor to the great shaikh Nizam ad-din Awliya';

#“Some qalandars had arrived and were staying as guests of Khwajah Shaykh Nasir ad-dm for the night. (The Khwajah) said, 'These days the number of darwishes has decreased. In the days of the Shaykh [Nizam ad-din Awliya] darwishes used to come by twenties and thirties, and the Shaykh used to keep them as guests for three days . . . When there was an 'urs, the Shaykh [Nizam ad-din] would invite all lash-kardars [men of the army] and darwishes would arrive from all sides . . . Nowadays there are neither such soldiers, nor such slaves, nor such armies. All have deteriorated. Men have to wait [in vain] for the dar­wishes to come'.”#


[Note: Translated by Riazul Islam. Sufis at all times have voiced complaints about spiritual decline. Muhammad ibn Tughluq was unpredictable and not opposed to Sufis as such. This Nizam ad-din Awliya was noted for his avoidance of courts and Tughluq's son, Muhammad Shah, used to visit him when he was in a state of hdl (trance), and when he died (725/1325) at the beginning of Tughluq's reign, the latter's grandson assisted in carrying his bier, much to Tughluq's annoyance (Ibn Battuta). Subservient khanaqahs benefited from his patronage. Ibn Baftuta reports that Rukn ad-din as-Suhrawardi of Multan, grandson of Baha' ad-din Zakariya, accepted a jagir of 100 villages from Tughluq for the upkeep of his khanaqah. The hagiographers give accounts of his harshness to Nasir ad-din, successor of Nizam ad-din, and other Sufis. The sultan was suspicious of the influence of some of these shaikhs and no doubt the close regulation and supervision he exacted led to
measures of repression. Those who interfered in politics were dealt with severely, but one must remember that many of these leaders were frequently intriguers for position and power.]

In Anatolia the Seljuq period was significant in that the mystical movement was vitally linked with the spread of Islamic culture in that region. Both Persian refugees like Baha' ad-din Walad, father of Jalal ad-din Rumi, and Turkish babas from central Asia moved in considerable numbers into Anatolia during the thirteenth century, especially during the time of the Mongol invasions, but dervish activity was just as strong after the collapse of the Seljuq state of Rum. The mystics, manifesting a fervour and spirit quite different from that of legalist Islam, a spirit which also expressed itself in practical social aspects such as hospitality to travellers and care for the sick and poor, were mediators of Islam to the Christians of the region. They had the support of the Seljuq authorities. Jalal ad-din Rumi was highly honoured by the court of Qonya and there are many references to official patronage at other courts, such as that of Mujahid ad-din Bihruz
ibn 'Abdallah, Prefect of Iraq under Mas'ud ibn Ghiyath, who founded a ribdt at Baghdad.1

It is important to distinguish between the mystical orders proper and such corporations as trade-guilds2 and futuwwa orders of craftsmanship and chivalry,3 which are known under the same term, ta'ifa, and have similar forms of organization and possess religious aspects. The difference between them is one of purpose and intent, rather than in types of organization and linkages.

[Note: Sinf (pl. asnaf, sunuf), hirfa (pi. hiraf), and regional terms like Moroccan hanta, pi. hanati. They are referred to more simply as td'ifas. The akhi organiza­tion in Anatolia was a similar Turkish futuwwa craft corporation. The members were called fitydn (pi. of fata, 'youth', though not strictly a youth organization except in enrolment) and the head akhi, which term, originally Turkish, naturally became associated with Arabic akhi, 'my brother'. Ibn Battuta received hospitality from akhis (c. 1333). This type of organization disappeared during the 15th century with the full establishment of Ottoman power. But craft orders of a different type were an important aspect of the life of Ottoman Turkey. The Kazeruniyya, though it took the name of an eminent Sufi, was developed rather as a religious-economic guild association.
Similarly they are to be distinguished from the Anatolian ghdzi movements based on the futuwwa principle whose religious affiliations were with Turkish dardwish. Sufis used the term futuwwa, not for an organization, but in their own special sense of an ethical self-offering, as when Ahmad ar-Rifa'I is re­ported as saying, 'Futuwwa means working for God's sake, not for any reward'.]

The tariqas are purely religious organizations, but the purpose of the guilds was economic association, craftsmanship, or trade. A religious ta'ifa could not strictly be at the same time a trade or craft taifa. This is true in spite of the fact that there are apparent exceptions,1 and that the initial organization of the religious orders owes much to that of the guilds, and that the lariqas sanctify such secular associations.

[Note: The sacred origins of the corporations are stressed, the Imam Ja'far being especially important in their traditions. Consequently, it may on occasion be difficult to distinguish which was the essential purpose of certain organizations of akhis and central Asian Mongol-period futuwwa orders. The confusion is noticeable in Eviiya Chelebi's description (a.d. 1638) of the various guilds in Constantinople.]

Every form of social life embodies itself in associations and in a religious culture the need for acting together for what we call secular purposes is given a sacred character by religion. A particular guild and its members tended to be linked with a particular tariqa and saint. At initiations and other ceremonies, religious rites were the predominant feature, and it was behind the banner of that tariqa that the guild members proceeded to and from the 'id prayer-ground. They were not secular associations, although centred on economic and social interests, but neither were they Sufi orders.

The organization of the orders, however, owes much to that of the guilds. These guilds had flourished under the Fatimid and other. Shi'ite states and with the triumph of the Ayyubids and Seljuqs over political Shi'ism the necessity for recognizing them was accepted by the Sunni doctors. We have shown that the Ayyubids encouraged the Sufi organization at the stage it had then reached—association in khanaqahs. From then, when defined lines of mystical tradition had emerged, the organization of the khanaqahs, which were also secular associations in some aspects of their relationship to the life of the community, drew more and more features from guild organization. As the latter had a grand­master ('arif, amin, or shaikh al-hirfa) and a hierarchy of appren­tices (mubtadi'), companions (sdni'}, and master-craftsmen (mu'allim), so the religious orders acquired a hierarchy of novices, initiates, and masters. Since legal Islam tolerated the secret character
of the initiation and oath of the guilds, it had to accept the implications of the act of allegiance to the shaikh at-tariqa when Shi'i practice was maintained. Medical doctors too, without necessarily belonging to a guild, would receive simple initiation into a Sufi chain as a possible source of spiritual aid to them in their work.2

And now we find manifestations of spiritual power becoming associated with the orders. No clear distinction can henceforth be made between the orders and saint-veneration, since God's proteges (awliya' li 'lldh) are within the orders. Sufism provided a philosophy of election which was diluted and adapted to the needs of the masses by the orders. Not merely the great shaikh but his successors who inherited his baraka (spiritual power) were mediums of his power. With this was associated ziydra (visitation) to saints' tombs. As in other aspects of Sufi thought and practice there is an essential distinction between the way in which the genuine Sufi approached a saint's tomb and the prac­tice of the people. The mystic carries out a ziydra for the purpose of murdqaba (spiritual communion) with the saint, finding in the material symbol an aid to meditation. But the popular belief is that the saint's soul lingers about his tomb and places (maqdms) specially
associated with him whilst he was on earth or at which he had manifested himself. At such places his intercession can be sought.

The state of sanctity (wildyd) is characterized by the manifesta­tion of karamdt, gifted spiritual powers. The earlier spiritual leaders dissociated themselves from the working of such powers, though they all accepted the principle that saints did perform them as gifts from God. Al-Qushairi remarks that though pro­phets needed miracles (mu'jizaf) to confirm the validity of their mission, saints were under no such necessity and ought rather to hide any they had involuntarily made. The extraordinary graces with which they were favoured are a confirmation of their progress and can nevertheless edify and confirm the faithful and serve to distinguish a real wall from an impostor.1 Still, a true wall does not necessarily, or indeed probably, know that he is one.2

[Note: the hadith qudsi: 'My saints are beneath my tents, none knoweth them but me." Ibn Khaldun re­marks, 'Among the Sufis some who are favored by acts of divine grace are also able to exercise an influence upon worldly conditions. This, however, is not counted as a kind of sorcery. It is effected with divine support, because the attitude and approach (of these men) result from prophesy and are a consequence of it'.]

The writings of Sufis contain a vast amount on this sub­ject of the validity of wildya, but we are mainly concerned with practical aspects.

With this development is associated a new reverence for the Prophet, which not merely brought him into the category of wonder-workers at the popular level, but also led to the popular equivalent of the belief in the Spirit of Muhammad as the Logos, guardian, and preserver of the universe. The celebration of the Prophet's birthday seems, at least in part, to be a compensation for the suppression of 'Alid demonstrations after the destruction of Shi'ite regimes. Ibn Jubair (travelled a.d. 1183-5) refers to it as an established practice.1 It was fairly widespread in Ibn Taimiyya's time, for it comes under his condemnation, but it was not yet an aspect of the people's religion. By the time of as-Suyuti (d. a.d. 1505) the mawlid had acquired its characteristic features. These features and the writing of special recitations for performance at Sufi gatherings belong to the next stage, but the prophylactic poem, Qasidat al-Burda, by al-Busirl (d. 694/1295), was
written during this time.

The blending of the saint-cult with the orders and a new rever­ence for the Prophet is one aspect of the change. The other is a change in the constitution of the body of adherents. Concern for his own spiritual welfare had led the devotee and early Sufi to isolate himself from the world, but the need for spiritual direction had necessitated the association of Sufis. Their con­gregation in hospices concerned for the welfare of travellers and care for the sick and unfortunate brought them back into the world. The hospices with their associated tombs became the foci of the religious aspirations of the ordinary man who sought the baraka of the saints. The dedicated disciples (fuqard', dard-wish, or ikhwdn) continued to devote themselves to ascetic prac­tices and duties within the order, but membership was now extended to embrace tertiaries or lay adherents who 'took the tartqa' from the shaikh or more usually his representative (khalifa), but continued to
follow their ordinary mode of life. This meant that they affirmed their belief in the ideals for which the tariqa stood, especially valuing the link with the baraka of the saints, and accepted such rules and modes of worship as were compatible with the pursuit of a normal mode of life. In towns such association was especially linked with membership of guilds. Whilst, on the one hand, new techniques for the individual dhikr were adopted, this broadening of membership led to changes in methods for the collective dhikr. The full development of this system of lay adherence belongs to the next stage, when the tariqas come to be represented by local organizations throughout the whole Islamic world, wielding an immense influence throughout most strata of society.

Along with the development of new forms of devotion and their acceptance parallel to ritual prayer went the process of accommo­dating the sciences of astrology, divination, and magic—techniques which professed, not merely to reveal the secrets of the unseen world, but to control them. This development is especially associated with the name of Ahmad ibn 'Abdallah al-Buni (d. 622/1225), who put the seal to the work of his predecessors operating less openly by finally systematizing the sciences of divination, astrology, and magical invocation. Popular works brought all this within the range of the ordinary practitioner and became part of the equipment of the shaikhs and brethren.

It is easy to see why this aspect was so important and how easy it was to Islamize borrowed material. The orders stressed the power of the Word of God, and hundreds of booklets have been written on the virtues and properties of the names of God, of phrases like the Basmala, or Qur'anic verses (Ayat al-Kursl), or chapters (sura Ya Sin). The association of these 'words', as in ash-Shadhill's Hizb al-Bahr or al-Jazuli's Dalail al-khairat, gives these magical properties. Power symbolism in Islam is, therefore, primarily based on words.

All the same, the ideals of the orders were maintained, however much they were compromised in practice. The honour which Islam accords to jurists is reflected by the fact that certain of the silsila founders were also professional jurists. They and their successors clung to the externals of Islamic practice and based their litanies solidly on the Qur'an. They played an immense role in enriching the devotional life of the ordinary Muslim as well as adepts, within the sphere of the regular Islamic institutions. They invested orthodox ritual with esoteric significance, for 'every act commanded by the Law denotes a mystery'. Thus not merely does wudu (ablution) signify the abandonment of profane actions, but every action within wudu" has its ethical and mystical meaning. But apart from the deeper mysteries the effect of their stress upon the spirit instead of the letter of the Law was morally and spiritually stimulating.

Earlier Sufis had been concerned with ascetic-mystical theory, or, if they were poets, with illuminating their search and the states they experienced. The change towards greater systematization is seen in the manuals now being produced as guides for the director and his pupils. Whilst Najib ad-din as-Suhrawardl wrote one of the earliest manuals of this nature,1 Adah al-muridin, it was his nephew, Shihab ad-din, who wrote what deservedly has been the most popular guide, 'Awdrif al-ma'arif, the medieval vade-mecum for spiritual directors. Other manuals were Najm ad-din Kubra's Sifat al-adab2 and Ibn al-'Arabi's al-amr al-muhkam, suspect by many 'ulama because of its author's reputation as an antinomian.

[Note: The original, which is attributed to Sahl ibn 'Abdallah at-Tustarl (d. a.d. 896), referred to God: 'The first stage in taiaakkul (dependence upon God) is that the worshipper should be in the hands of God like a corpse in the hands of the washer, he turns it as he wills without impulse or initiative on its part'; al-Qushairi, Risala.
An earlier manual on the rules of the noviciate was Ahkdm al-muridin, by Tahir b. al-Husain al-Jassas, d. 418/1027. Adah as-§uhba by as-Sulam! (d. 1021) is a general treatise on manners, concerned especially with imitation of the prophet; it is not Sufi in content, though it has its place in as-Sularm's work towards reconciling tasaicwuf with orthodoxy.]

These manuals show that the ritual is now a traced-out Way, a rule of life, by following which the novice may attain union with God, founded upon a series of observances additional to the com­mon ritual and duties of Islam. It involves a noviciate, during which he receives guidance from a shaikh, and it is now that the saying that the novice must be in the hands of his director like the corpse in the hands of the washer of the dead becomes popular.3 This culminates in initiation, which includes investment with a khirqa, mantle, and headdress.

The Way under guidance implies a life in common (mu'ashara) for the dedicated group of aspirants and adepts in a convent under the direct supervision of a superior. Suhrawardi in the book just mentioned deals with the rules of behaviour in such an institution.4 The superior allots various prayer tasks, supererogatory exercises, recitations of litanies, praises, and invocations (adhkar, ahzab, and awrdd), graded according to a person's stage, together with such mortifications as vigils (sahr) and fasts (siyani). He is required to make periodic retreats (khalzva, i'tikdf, 'uzla, i'tizdl, or arba'iniyya — quadragesima) individually in his cell or, if highly advanced, in the society of the convent.

But, as may be seen from these manuals, although the lines of the practice of the mystical Way had been worked out, the aims of the Sufis in association were still variable, confused, and limited. There were great variations too between the Sufi establish­ments. Some were rich and luxurious, favoured by authority, whilst others followed the strictest principles of poverty and unworldliness; some had no shaikh, others were under the authority of one leader and had become attached to one silsila; whilst others were governed by a council of elders. Then there were wandering dervishes such as the qalandars, who made use of these hostels, and had their own rules and linkages but no organization.


APPENDIX A

Relating to Early Silsilas

The earliest preserved silsila is that of Ja'far al-Khuld! (d. 348/959). According to Ibn an-Nadlm (d. a.d. 995),' al-Khuldl took the tariqa from al-Junaid (d. a.d. 910), he from Sari as-Saqati (d. a.d. 867), from Ma'ruf al-Karkhl (d. a.d. 813), from Farqad as-Sabakhi (d. a.d. 748), from Hasan al-Basri (d. a.d. 728), from Anas ibn Malik (d. a.d. 709), the traditionist, and he from the Prophet.

Al-Qushairi gives the ascription (using the phrase akhdh at-tariq) of his own shaikh, Abu 'All ad-Daqqaq (d. a.d. 1016), from whom the links are Abu '1-Qasim Ibrahim ari-Nasrabadi (d. a.d. 979)— ash-Shibli (d. a.d. 945)—al-Junaid—Sari as-Saqati—Ma'ruf al-Karkhi—Da'ud at-Ta'i—the Tabi'un.

The Imam 'Ali is not mentioned in these silsilas until the fifth/eleventh century. Ibn Abi Usaibi'a (d. a.d. 1270) gives the khirqa of Sadr ad-din Muhammad ibn Hamuya (d. a.d. 1220) which is especially interesting in that it embraces three silsilas— through al-Khadir, certain 'Alid Imams, and a version of the classical ascription. It is therefore in the fullest sense more of an esoteric than a mystical line.

[Note: This Damascus branch (whose nisba does not refer to Hama and is pronounced Hamawaih) were subservient to the Sunni Ayyubid rulers and dissembled their Shi'ism, though they maintained the 'Alid silsila. 'Imad ad-din was the officially appointed inspector of all the Syrian khanaqahs. His grand-nephew on the Persian side, Sa'd ad-dm al-Hamuya (595/1198—650/1252), was a famous Shi'i Sufi, khalifa of Najm ad-din Kubra. His numerous works were epitomized by his pupil, 'Aziz ad-din ibn M. an-Nasafi (d. 661/1263) in his Kashf al-haqa'iq.]

The khirqa Khadiriyya, that is, the spiritual initiation, came directly from al-Khadir to his grand­father, Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad, one of the tutors of 'Ain al-Qudat al-Hamadanl.

The two lines, quasi-Shi'i and Sunni, converge with Ma'ruf al-Karkhi, who is said to have been a Mandaean mawla (client) of 'Ali ar-Rida and to have adopted Islam at his hands. At a later stage Sufis were frequently initiated into afutuwwa grade, a third line going back to 'Ali.

Sadr ad-din Abu '1-Hasan Muhammad ibn Hamuya, d. 1220
'Imad ad-din 'Umar b. Hamuya, d. 1181
Mu'in ad-din Abu 'Abdallah Muhammad ibn Flamuya, d. 1135
Abu 'Ali al-Fadl al-Farmadhi, d. 1084, ---also from Al-Khadir from The Prophet

Abu '1-Qasim al-Gurgani, d. 1076
Abu 'Uthman Sa'id al-Maghribi, d. 984
Abu 'Amr M. b. Ibrahim az-Zajjaji, d. 310/922 (or 348/959)
Al-Junaid ibn Muhammad, d. 910
Sari as-Saqati, d. 867
Ma'ruf al-Karkhi, d. 815, --- from Da'ud at-Ta'i, d. 781 from Habib al-'Ajami, d. 737 from Hasan al-Basri, 643-728 from Ali from The Prophet

Ali ibn Musa ar-Rida (8th Imam), d. 818
Musa ibn Ja'far al-Kazim, d. 799
Ja'far ibn Muhammad as-Sadiq, d. 763
Muhammad ibn 'Ali al-Baqir, d. 731
Ali b. al-Husain Zain al-'Abidin, d. 712
Husain ibn 'Ali, d. 680

Ali ibn Abi Talib, d. 661
Muhammad the Prophet


APPENDIX B

Sufis, Malamatis, and Qalandaris

The distinction between sufi and darwish (or faqir) is the difference between theory and practice. The sufi follows a mystical theory or doctrine, the darwish practises the mystical Way. Of course, one is a darwish and a sufi at the same time and there is no essential distinction in theory. The sufi is a darwish and the darwish is a sufi since neither can be in isolation from the other, but in practice there is a disproportion of emphasis, some sufis being predominantly intellect or creative imagination, like Ibn al-'Arabi, and others mainly dervishes, all feeling, emo­tion, and action. In both instances we find sufis and dervishes dispensing with a guide and relying solely upon themselves (though frequently allowing for a spiritual guide), passively or actively, to achieve the annihilation of self and direct absorption into divine Reality, one by intellectual exercises, the other by psycho-physical practices. Ibn 'Abbad of Ronda (1333-90) belonged to
the Shadhill tradition, but in a letter to Abu Ishaq ash-Shatibi, who had sought an opinion as to whether a shaikh was indispensable, he wrote that he himself was more guided in his spiritual path by sufi writings than by shaikhs. Most of these men who dispense with a this-world guide acknowledge a spiritual guide.

Also involved is the distinction between the sufi and the maldmati. This question has been somewhat confused. Abu 'Abd ar-Rahman as-Sulami (d. 412/1021) regarded the maldmatis (blameworthy ones) as the highest grade of God's slaves, above both the legalists (fuqaha1 class) and the theosophists, Ahl al-ma'rifa. Now these latter, the second category, the khawdss, he calls the Sufiyya; but these are the 'elect' or 'privileged' rather than simple sufis, those upon whom God has bestowed special knowledge of Himself, who can perform kardmdt and penetrate hidden mysteries. The Malamatis are sufis: 'Among their prin­ciples is disciplined guidance under a sufi leader (imam min aimmat al-qawm) to whom recourse should be had in all matters pertaining to mystical knowledge and experiences.'

Although the Nubian, Dhu 'n-Nun, and the Mervian, Bishr ibn al-Harith (d. 277/841), tend to be looked upon as originators of the maldmati tendency, its true origins are to be sought in Nishapur. It is not to be regarded as distinct from tasawwuf, but simply as the Nishapuri school of mysticism. As-Sulami includes among maldmatis: Sahl at-Tustari, Yahya ibn Ma'adh ar-Razi, and above all Abu Yazid al-Bistami, to whom is ascribed the formulation of the specific doctrines of the school.

The sufi is concerned with tawakkul ('trust'; Quran, Ixv. 3) and that to him involves inkdr al-kasb (severing the bonds of acquisi­tion and personal action), with training, guidance, and even sub­jection to his shaikh, affirmed with oath and investment with a khirqa, regulated exercises (dhikr) and sama'. All these the mald­mati rejects, at least theoretically. At the foundation of the maldmati tendency is the absolute nothingness of man before God. Contrary to the sufi, the true maldmati conceals his progress in the spiritual life. He aspires to free himself from the world and its passions whilst living in the world. Shihab ad-din as-Suhrawardi writes: 'It has been said that the maldmati is one who neither makes a show of doing good or harbours thoughts of evil.' He explained this as follows: 'The maldmati is one whose veins are saturated with the nourishment of pure virtue, who is really sincere, who does not want anyone to be acquainted with his
ecstatic states and experiences.' The maldmati is ready to be despised by men that he may lose himself in God. Whereas the sufi lives 'aid 't-tawakkul, relying upon God to provide for him, the maldmati works for his living ('lawful' food for him is earned food), absorbed in God whilst engaged in the affairs of the world. He does not parade his inward way, nor indulge in public dhikr gatherings. Confusion has been caused by the fact that many mystical writers tend to regard malamatis as quietists (mutawdk-kiluri) among the sufis, even as people who lack the will and discipline necessary to struggle along the mystical Path, whereas it is the sufis who are mutawakkiliin; and they also confuse him with the qalandari. How wrong they are is soon demonstrated.

The malamati rejects all outward show, all salat and tardwih, the latter especially since it is only too often a form of piety in­tended to be seen of men.

[Note: The dhikr repetitions should not be identified with the supererogatory prayers of legal Islam, that is, such things as the nawdfil added to the obligatory prayers or the tardwih especially associated with Ramadan piety, since these arc the same as ritual prayer in form and therefore in spirit, though it is quite true that the dhikr recited after ritual prayer has often tended for the average affiliate to have little deeper significance than tardwih.]

Contrary to what is generally supposed the malamati performs duties that are fard'id, like ritual salat, even though he rejects them, to avoid attracting attention to himself. Similarly he does not wear the special dress which characterizes the sufi. He has no initiating shaikh in the later sufi sense of submission though he is ready to seek guidance. As-Suhrawardi writes: 'There is at the present time in Khurasan an association (taifd) of malamatis possessing shaikhs who ground them in the fundamentals and keep themselves informed of their spiritual progress. We have ourselves seen in Iraq those who follow this course [of incurring censure] but are not known under this name, for the term is little current on the tongues of the people of Iraq.' The maldmati professes no speculative mysticism about the unicity of being, but is concerned with the elimination of self-consciousness. Of the later orders the Naqshabandiyya is especially associated with the
malamati tradition within tasawwuf. Naqsha-bandis practise the personal recollection (dhikr khafi), the strict have no public dhikrs, and we may recall their injunction about 'solitude in a crowd'.

Whereas as-Sulami, and even, though with reservations, a characteristic sufi guide like as-Suhrawardi, can look reasonably at malamatis, or at least at their theory, since it is simply a par­ticular siifi tendency, they regard the qalandaris as reprehensible. Theoretically there is not really all that difference. The danger of Malamism is the possibility of its becoming antisocial. The rude and unlettered wandering dervishes and bdbds of the Turkish movements were such qalandari types; then, as Ways were formed, latent antinomian tendencies were accentuated.

The distinction between the maldmati and the qalandari is that the former hides his devotion and the latter externalizes and even exploits it, going out of his way to incur blame. Confusion has been caused because of the derivation of the name maldma (blame). The term qalandari, to which the Arabian Nights has given wide currency, covers in its historical usage a wide range of dervish types. It was loosely applied in the East (it was un­known in western Islam) to any wandering faqir, but it was also adopted by certain groups and even distinctive orders were formed, hence the problems of denning the term. To begin with the time of the formation of silsilas, Shihab ad-din as-Suhrawardi writes:

#“The term qalandariyya is applied to people so possessed by the intoxica­tion of 'tranquility of heart' that they respect no custom or usage and reject the regular observances of society and mutual relationship. Traversing the arenas of 'tranquility of heart' they concern themselves little with ritual prayer and fasting except such as are obligatory (fard'id). Neither do they concern themselves with those earthly pleasures which are allowed by the indulgence of divine law. .. . The difference between the qalandari and the malamati is that the malamati strives to conceal his mode of life whilst the qalandari seeks to destroy accepted custom.”#

Maqrizi records that about 610/1213 qalandaris first made their appearance in Damascus. According to Najm ad-din M. ibn Isra'il of the Rifa'iyya-Haririyya (d. 1278), their introduction took place in 616/1219, the introducer being Muhammad ibn Yunus as-Sawaji (d. 630/1232), a refugee from Sawa (destroyed by the Mongols in 617/1220): 'When, under the reign of al-Ashraf, al-Hariri was condemned, they also disapproved of the qalandaris and exiled them to the castle of Husainiyya.' The Qalandariyya was reintroduced with the Haidari group, a zdwiya being built in 655/1257. A pupil of Muhammad ibn Yunus known as Khidr Rural is credited with the introduction of the tendency into north-west India in the time of Iltutmish which developed into a definite line of ascription as a qalandari order. A Persian faqir called Hasan al-Jawaliqi came to Egypt in the time of al-Malik al-'Adil Ketbogha (1294-6) and founded a zdwiya of qalandaris, then went to Damascus, where he
died in 722/1322. Maqrizi remarks that they were quietists seeking inward peace, but their means of attaining this involved discarding normal social restraints.

[Note: The dhikr formulae instituted by the fourth successor of Khidr Rumi, Qutb ad-dinb. Sarandgz Jawnpurf (d. 1518), is Shi'i: 'Ya Hasan is forced between the two thighs, Ya Husain on the navel, Ya Fatima on the right shoulder, Ya 'Ali on the left shoulder, and Ya Muhammad in his soul" (Sanusi, Salsabil, p. 155; pp. 154—64 are concerned with the practices of this Indian order).]

Qalandari characteristics included the wearing of a distinctive garment, the shaving of the head and facial hair with the exception of the moustache, the perforation of hands and ears for the inser­tion of iron rings as symbol of penitence, as well as tathqib al-ihlil as sign of chastity, all of which are forbidden.

The position was different in the time of Jam! (d. 1521). This Sufi poet, after quoting the passage from Shihab ad-din, goes on, 'With regard to the kind of men whom we call qalandari today, who have pulled from their necks the bridle of Islam, these qualities of which we have just spoken are foreign to them, and one should rather name them hashazviyya.' Both Suhrawardi and Jam! point out that those in their time who took the dress of qalandaris in order to indulge in debaucheries are not to be con­fused with true qalandaris.

The Turkish qalandaris eventually became a distinctive order. One group claimed to derive from a Spanish Arab immigrant called Yusuf al-Andalusi. Expelled from the Bektashi order because of his arrogant nature, he tried in vain to enter that of the Mawlawis, and ended by forming a distinct order under the name of Qalandar. He imposed upon his dervishes the obligation of perpetual travel, yet in the reign of Muhammad II (1451-81) a qalandari convent with mosque and madrasa made its appearance in Istanbul. Evliya Chelebi refers to an Indian qalandari convent at Kaghid-Khanah (suburb of Scutari) whose faqirs Sultan Muhammad used to provide with dinners. There was a qalandari order in Aleppo at the beginning of the present century. Mujir ad-din describes a qalandari zdwiya in Jerusalem in the middle of Mamilla cemetery. Formerly a church called ad-Dair al-Ahmar, it was taken over by one Ibrahim al-Qalandari as a zdwiya for hisfuqard', but the zdwiya fell
into ruins shortly before 893/1488.


--


# The Mysticism and Theosophy of the Orders

With Muhammad, Khatim al-anbiya (Seal of the Pro­phets), the cycle of prophecy (dairat an-nubuzvwa) was closed, but God did not thenceforth leave His people without guidance on the way to Himself. For the majority, the guide was the revealed Law (Shar') which is for the whole com­munity, and the 'ulama were the inheritors of the prophets as the guardians and interpreters of the Law.
For others, the exoteric Law, though accepted, was not enough. Religion is not only revelation, it is also mystery. For those who became known as Shi'a (men of the Party of 'All, Shi'at 'All), the guide through this world of divine wisdom (hikma ildhiyyd) was the infallible Imam. The Imam was also wall Allah and the closing of the prophetical cycle heralded the opening of another—dairat al-walaya.1 A Shi'i Sufi, 'Aziz ad-din an-Nasafi, explains the Shi'I sense of wait:
Des milliers de prophetes, anterieurement venus, ont successivement contribue a 1'instauration de la forme theophanique qui est la pro­phetic, et Mohammed 1'a achevee. Maintenant c'est au tour de la waldyat (I'lnitiation spirituelle) d'etre manifestee et de manifester les realties esoteriques. Or, I'homme de Dieu en la personne de qui se manifesto la waldyat, c'est la Sahib al-zamdn, 1'Imam de ce temps.2
For others, those who came to be known as Sufis, direct communion with God was possible. Their mission, though an individual search, was to maintain among men a realization of the inner Reality which made the Shar' valid. This Way nor­mally involved a guide, but of these there were many, and their

1 See H. Corbin, Histoire de la philosophic islamique, Paris, 1964, i. 45. For convenience sake we distinguish waldya with a fatha as applying to the Shi'I conception and wildya that of the Sufis. The term cannot be translated without misleading implications but the meaning will become evident from subsequent discussion.
2 Translated by H. Corbin, op. cit., i. 102.

whole concept of guidance was different from that of the Shi'is. Sufis adopted their own conception of wildya, but their awliya (plural of wall) were ordinary men singled out by God. At the same time, the conception of a pre-creation wildya from eternity was incorporated into Sufi thought from eastern gnosticism,1 though this concept never fitted comfortably into the purer struc­ture of Sufism. They were to ascribe a pre-creation existence and a hierarchical structure to these awliya and link them with the government of the world by virtue of an-Nur al-Muhammadl (lit. 'the Muhammadan Light'), immanent in them all. Some Sufis did not hold that any dairat al-wildya succeeded dairat an-nubuwwa, for the latter was only a particular mode, finite and passive, of God's communication with man, whereas wilaya is abiding (istiqrar) and ever-active and infinite.2 This does not imply " any inferiority of law-transmitting apostles to saints, since every apostle is
also a wall. Ibn al-'Arabi writes:' Wildya is all-embracing. It is the major cycle (daira). . . . Every apostle (rasul) must be a prophet (nabi), and since every prophet must be a wall, every apostle must be a wait.'3 It is only prophecy as a function and mode of communication that is finite. There are many grades of walls and this is typified by the superiority of al-Khadir to Moses in knowledge.4
'Sanctity' is not an adequate translation of wilaya, nor 'saint' of wall, in either Shi'ism or Sufism, though we have generally

1 See the quotation from al-Junaid, below, p. 141.
2 Al-Hakim at-Tirmidhi, who was a contemporary in time (third/ninth century), if not in gnostic concepts, with al-Junaid, did however set a term to wildya. He has a book on the subject which has only recently been resurrected and has been admirably edited and provided with supporting material from other authors by 'Uthman Isma'il Yahya, Kitdb Khatm al-awliya', Beirut, 1965. This edition also contains Tirmidhi's spiritual autobiography, pp. 13—32.
At-Tirmidhi claimed that wildya was limited in time, since, like nubuwwa, it also had a Seal who will be manifested at the end of time. He wrote: 'The Seal of Sanctity (khatm al-wildya) will be the mediator for the saints on the Day of Resurrection, for he is their lord, predominant over the saints as Muhammad was predominant over the prophets' (op. cit., p. 344). Ibn al-'Arabi drew much of his inspiration concerning nubuwwa and wildya from Tirmidhi, though ho gave everything his own unique stamp and interpretation. With him (as with Sa'd ad-din Hamuya) 'the absolute Seal who will come at the end of time' in Jesus, or better, an-Nabl 'Isa, to avoid any identification with Christian con­ceptions; but he also has a category of seals who parallel the prophets. The Muhammadan seal, he says, 'is actually here at the present time. I made hii acquaintance in the year 595 [1199] ... in Fez'; Al-Futuhdt al-Makkiyyu, Cairo, a.h. 1329, ii. 49; other references to
'Isa as the Seal, ii. 3, 9, etc.
3 Futuhdt, ii. 256. 4 See below, p. 136, n. 2.

adhered to current usage in this book. In the Sufi sense wall is better translated 'protege' of God; like mawld it can be 'protector' or 'patron' as well as 'client'. With the Shi'a it signifies the Imam, the Word of God, the everliving Guide.
The Sufi guides, like the Imams, also possess esoteric know­ledge, but, unlike the Imams, their esoteric knowledge has come to them, not by genealogical, but by spiritual progression.1 In fact, it came to them by a twofold action of God: by transmission from Muhammad, through a chain of elect masters, and also by direct inspiration from God, often through the mediation of al-Khadir, like Gabriel to Muhammad.
These three trends of spiritual guidance are fully within the heritage of Islam, though they were never reconciled. Both Sufism and Shi'ism were attempts to solve the perpetual Islamic dilemma of a once-for-all final revelation, but they each fully recognized the once-for-all nature of the final prophetic mode of divine communication. However, they did not think that with the closing of this stage God's direct dealings with men were at an end.
The mission of both Sufis and Shl'is2 was to preserve the spiritual sense of the divine revelation. Both were concerned with the equation Tawhid divided by Shar = Haqlqa, but their Ways were quite different.
Whilst in many respects Sufis and Shi'is come close together, in others, some fundamental, they are poles apart. This hinges upon their different conceptions of the basis of the community. Sufis are within the main stream of Islam, for them the basis is the

1 There is no sound evidence for linking Shi'i gnosticism with any of the Twelve Imams, except perhaps Ja'far as-Sadiq. Their alleged sayings, now forming a vast corpus beginning with ash-Sharif ar-Radi's (d. 406/1015) Nahj dl-baldgha, devoted to Imam 'All, being unlikely to go back to them. This does not affect their validity for Shi'is; for them it is the Imam who speaks, whoever put it on paper, but others are likely to take a more critical attitude. This is not to say that all the material in such compilations is spurious; see L. Veccia Vaglieri, 'Sul "Nahj al-balagah" e sul suo compilatore a§-3arlf ar-Radi', .•Innali, Nuova serie, viii. 1—46; G. Oman, 'Uno "specchio per principi" dell' Imam 'All ibn Abi Talib', Annali, n.s., x (1960), 1-35.
2 Writers on Sufism have fought shy of dealing with the question of the relationship of Sufism and Shi'ism. L. Massignon was concerned with the relations of Shi'is with al-Hallaj; but otherwise the only scholars who have nttempted to deal with it have approached it from the Shi'i viewpoint—we may mention Henri Corbin, W. Ivanow, and Sayyid Husain Nasr. It is not ii subject for this book, since I am only dealing cursorily with the mystical foundations of the orders, yet I feel I should at least indicate my own position i m the question.
shari'a; for the Shi'a the basis is the Imam, the infallible leader. Sufis lived and thought upon a quite different plane from that of Shi'is. They believed in the possibility of direct communion with God, and their aim was the perfection of the soul, the spiritual ascent to God. Sufis are marked off from Shi'is by the two tech­niques of tarlqa and dhikr; the dominant movement is following the Path. Shi'is, on the contrary, needed a mediatory Imam, and they plunged into a world of mysteries, hidden meanings, and secret initiatory transmissions. Sufis also came to adopt a gnostic approach, tapping Shi'i as well as other gnostic sources, especially after the open profession of Shi'ism was banned. But when Sufis adopted elements from the Shi'i gnostic system the orientation of such elements changed. In this respect the change was similar to the parallel adoption of Neoplatonic and Christian elements into Sufism; once incorporated they are no longer
Neoplatonic, Christian gnostic, or Shi'i.
We have mentioned that 'Ali followed Muhammad as the starting-point of Sufi chains and here, too, misconceptions have arisen. Although Sufis trace their esoteric chains back to 'Ali,1 and accord his line high honour, it is not as Imam in any Shi'i sense. When Junaid was asked about 'Ali's knowledge of tasawwuj he answered the question rather obliquely: 'Had 'Ali been less engaged in wars he might have contributed greatly to our know­ledge of esoteric things (ma'dni) for he was one who had been vouchsafed 'Urn al-ladunni.'z
Sufis have rarely been Shi'is except in Persia;3 and we give

1 The esoteric trend began long before the tariqas developed the concept <>l a chain of transmission from 'Ali in the fifth/eleventh centuries. At one tinir, as is seen from the silsilas of Sadr ad-din ibn Hamuya (Appendix A), there were parallel chains, both having 'Ali as the starting-point, but one passing throunli a series of Imams.
2 As-Sarraj, Luma', p. 129. Reference is given to the passage in the Qur'iln concerning the encounter between Moses and God's servant (identified willi al-Khadir): 'One of our servants . . . whom We had taught knowledge peculim to Us (wa 'allamndhu min ladunnd 'ilman)'. This phrase, important in Sunsin, refers to the esoteric truth validating the exoteric Law of Moses (representative of the Law) who asks God's servant, 'May I follow you on the understanding that you teach me, from what you have been taught, a rushdY Qur'an, xviil 65—6. Sufis take rushd to mean 'right guidance", a tarlqa, and the murshid (« derivative from the same root r-sh-d) is the 'guide'. This passage, as-SuriH! says, has been the source used to support the conception of the superiority nf wilaya over nubuwwa, believed in by many Sufis as well as Shi' is. It is cany In see how Khadir becomes for Sufis the prototype of the murshid.
3 R. A. Nicholson wrote, 'Sufism may join hands with freethought—it iihi
due allowance for the indulgence provided by the doctrine of taqiyya (precautionary dissembling). They have regarded Shi'i beliefs about the Imam as incompatible with Sufism. Similarly in adopting the Shi'i bai'a, the oath was given to the initiating murshid as representative of the founding wall, in whose hands the murid was to be like the corpse in the hands of the washer, and they thought of the chain carrying the founder's doctrine back to 'Ali and the Prophet in a quite different way from Shi'i conceptions. Most Sufis were concerned, since Junaid led the way, with maintaining their stand within the main Islamic stream, to which they made compromises and within which they came to be tolerated. Any lack Sufis may have felt in regard to such a gnostic-type concept as Sahib az-Zamdn, 'the Master of the Hour' (the Mahdi), was eventually compensated for by the idea of Qutb al-'Alam wa 'z-Zamdn (the Axis of the Universe and the Hour).

Although our concern is primarily with the exoteric expression of Sufism, we have to say something about beliefs in relation to practice. Islamic mysticism has proved so attractive to western students of Islam that it is necessary to take a balanced view of what was actually involved in practice.
We have defined mysticism prosaically as the organized cultiva­tion of religious experience aimed at direct perception of the Real. Sufism is a Way before it becomes a theosophy, and this is where self-deception arises. The doctrine is an attempt at rational expression of mystical experience. Mysticism, as the intuitive, spiritual, awareness of God, belongs to the realm of natural and universal, not revealed, religion, and thxis at the mystical level I here seems no essential difference between religions, since the experience is virtually the same. Direct experience takes prece­dence over historical revelation, and from this derives the opposi­tion of the guardians of the Law to mysticism. Ibn al-'Arabi wrote—'God is known only by means of God. The scholastic theologian says: "I know God by that which he created", and lakes as his guide something that has no real relation to the object

ol ton done so—but hardly ever with sectarianism. This explains why the vast majority of Sufis have been, at least nominally, attached to the catholic body of I he Moslem community. 'Abdallah Ansari declared that of two thousand Sufi Hhrykhs with whom he was acquainted only two were Shi'ites"; The Mystics of l\lnm, London, 1914, pp. 88-9.
sought. He who knows God by means of phenomena, knows as much as these phenomena give to him and no more.'1
At the same time, whilst it is true that the essential differences between religions lie elsewhere than on this plane of experience, still mysticism cannot be regarded as one and the same in what­ever religious sphere it is manifested, though the distinctions (cultural, content, tendency) are relative and do not infringe the essential unity of mystical experience. The religion professed does far more than merely colour linguistic and other forms of symbolic expression. The nature of mysticism is shown by its manifestations within the whole setting of a particular religious culture, and in Islam it is associated with and conditioned by (even though it counterbalances) recognized ritual and worship. Islamic mysticism, even in its fully developed form, cannot be regarded as a syncretism. It is true that it incorporated and welded together many different spiritual insights, yet through this process of assimilation they have been changed and given a uniquely
Islamic orientation. The works of the Islamic mystics cannot be studied, appreciated, and valued apart from their environment (Christian students have too frequently read their own ideas into the expressions of Muslim mystics), nor apart from their practical outcome in the works of the orders.
As well as mysticism we need to define the sense in which we are using the term 'theosophy', for this word too can mean many different things. Whilst mysticism is a responsive movement of the soul towards God which involves a grappling with reality on interior levels, theosophy is that sacred philosophy which springs from such inward illumination; it is the mysticism of the mind as distinguished from the mysticism of the heart.
Mysticism and theosophy are, therefore, the personal experience and expression of the mystery which lies within the religions, the testimony of the realities which lie beyond empirical experience. Muslim mysticism is a valid expression of Muslim truth along lines of insight which could have been reached in no other way. The mystic speaks the imaginative language of vision, symbol, and myth, through which he can express truths beyond the reach of formal theology. 'Gnostics', writes Ibn al-'Arabi, 'cannot

1 Ibn al-'Arabl's commentary on his own Tarjumdn al-Ashwdq, ed. and tr. by R. A. Nicholson, London, 1911, p. 115; for the text of the commentary sec Beirut edition, 1966, p. 136.
explain their feelings (ahwal) to other men; they can only indicate them symbolically to those who have begun to experience the like.'1 The tragedy of the higher theosophist in the realm of expres­sion arises from the fact that he has to reduce intense personal experience to the level of abstract thought at which level com­munication with the non-initiate becomes impossible.2 One medium of communication open to the Muslim, for whom non­verbal forms of religious symbolism (except calligraphy and abstract art) are banned, is poetry. Poetry in the Arab and Persian world is no solitary art, but receives its expression in the assembly. Poetry has its arts of delivery, chant, and musical accompaniment, and it was around the latter that controversy arose.

Sufism as it developed came to embrace different spheres of experience, and these need bringing out if we are to see the relationship between such aspects as following the Way and receiving divine gifts, or how tariqa and wildya come to be associated.
(a) We have the mysticism which seeks perfection, the purifica­tion of the nafs (soul)—the Way of mujahada, the spiritual jihad; the Way of ascent through different stages (maqdmdi) leading to God. The life of contemplation (mushdhada), to which asceticism is an essential preliminary, is based upon recollection (dhikr) of God. This must be carried out under direction.
(b) In integral association with this Way through personal effort is the way of illumination (kashf, 'unveiling'). As they pursued their Way, Sufis were favoured with a mystical endowment (hdl), which is a free gift from God. The distinction between maqdm and hdl brings together these two aspects of the Path:

1 Tarjumdn, p. 68; Beirut edn., p. 42. Sufis have a favourite expression concerning the need for discretion in divulging the mysteries, 'he who experi­ences God, his lips are sealed' (man 'arafa 'lldha kalla lisdnuhu).
2 And is also liable to be misinterpreted. 'Ain al-Qudat al-Hamadani felt that he had been wrongly convicted through such misunderstanding. In the Defence he composed in prison shortly before his execution he wrote, 'The 'ulamd' can hardly be unaware that every department of knowledge has its mutually agreed terminology whose meaning is known only to those who have followed a course of training . . . Similarly with the Sufis, they have their own exclusive terms whose meanings they alone know. I mean by Sufis those persons who have directed their aspirations wholly towards God and are dedicated to following the Way to Him'; Shaqwd 'l-gharib, ed. in J. Asiat. ccxvi (1930), 40, 41.
'States are gifts whilst stages are acquisitions.'1 There is pre­supposed in the reception of a hal the carrying out of a definite disciplined rule of life. Illuminism2 is this faith in the possibility of the sudden flash of divine light.
The association of these two comprises the suluk, the scala perfection^ of the orders, whereby the distinction between Creator and created can be transcended. This association of the way of striving and illumination by divine light can be comprehended when we realize that this kind of thing is a fact of everyday experience. We may think of the scientist pursuing his laborious way of experiment to whom the solution comes in a sudden flash of intuition, but there is no flash without the toil. Such insights give the appearance of something given. The next sphere, how­ever, bears the relationship of genius to intuition.
(c) The mystical gift just mentioned must be distinguished from the gnostic genius or the mystical gnosis (marifa, with Shi'is 'irfdn) which enables those so favoured to unveil the secrets of the unseen world of reality and contemplate the mysteries of being. This is different from the enlightenment of the mystics, although the same term, ma'rifa, may be used, and the theosophy behind the orders draws upon both types with a resultant con­fusion. With the Sufis the divine mysteries are revealed by degrees, in proportion to a person's spiritual growth and his receptivity, but there are men of special gifts who have been given a mystical understanding of life which has nothing to do with either ascetic discipline or the Sufi technique of the Way, nor with the gift of wildya, though like wildya it is an individual charism. We may

1 Fa 'l-ahwal mawahib wa 'l-maqdmdt makdsib; Ar-Risdlat al-Qushairiyyii, Cairo, 1319, p. 32. Sufis regard these two aspects as being expressed in tho Qur'anic promise, 'Those who endeavour in Us, them We shall direct in Our Ways' (xxix. 69).
This usage of the Qur'an as a support for an already taken up position is not to be confused with the Sufi interpretation of the Qur'an (ta'wil or istinbdf — drawing out the hidden sense), allegorical, hermeneutical, and mystical. Tho reason why ta'tvil is not referred to in this book is simply that it belongs to III* eclectic aspect of Sufism; it did not form part of the ordinary Sufi's approiirh and certainly not that of the orders.
2 This is a dangerous word to use. I am using it in the widest sense, murli wider than ishrdq, which has become a term describing a particular metapliymc of illumination associated with Yahya as-Suhrawardi al-Maqtul. It has lilllp
relationship with the orders, but an individual pursuit of men like as-Simi.....I
Other illumination terms (tajalliydt, lawd'ih, lawdmi') are used by Sufis Ini different expressions of their experiences.
think of as-Suhrawardi al-Maqtul, Ibn al-'Arabi, and Ibn Sab'in, and of non-Muslim parallels such as Plotinus, Eckhart, and Boehme. In spite of the uniqueness of this genius, men have sought this gnosis and techniques for its attainment have been developed. It is through such techniques, through the marriage of Man and Nature, that have arisen the 'masteries' of magic which hold man in thrall to a naturalistic world.
(d) Finally, we have to distinguish wildya. Extrinsically this is within the sphere of Sufism; intrinsically it has little relationship with mysticism. This seems confusing, in that the founders of the orders all came to be regarded as waits, whereas mystics like al-Muhasibi were not waits. But the essence of early teaching on wildya is that waits were unknown to their fellow men.
For practical purposes we need to distinguish two types of waits: those chosen to be with God from eternity and those of humanity who were, it seems, picked out by God to receive special favours through the action of grace (mama). The first conception was an early development in Sufi thought, since we find al-Junaid affirming: 'God has an elite (safwd) among His servants, the purest among His creation. He has chosen them for the wildya and distinguished them by conferring on them unique grace (kardma) . . . These are they whom He created for Himself to be with Him from eternity.'1
This gift like the gnosis just discussed has nothing to do with merits or traversing a Path. It is possible to be a wait and be completely devoid of mystical gifts, and it is equally possible to he a mystic, illuminated with the highest vision of God, without being a wali.z The divorce of wildya from tasawwuf, and the link of the orders with wildya, signify the weakening of the relationship of the orders with mysticism.3
Since it is impossible in a general study such as this to treat at ;ill fully the conceptions of the different orders, we will content ourselves with mentioning certain dominant conceptions and ten­dencies common to most orders, bearing in mind the distinctions which have just been brought out.
The Muslim mystic begins with the Tawhid (Unity) and the

1 Rasd'il al-Junaid, ed. A. H. 'Abd al-Qadir (London, 1962), text, p. 41.
•* I am well aware that, apart from agnostic wildya, diverse writers from as-Siilami to Ibn al-'Arabi and his followers regard gnosis as the distinguishing murk of wildya. 3 See the account of ash-Sha'rani in chap, viii, pp. 220—5.
Shar' (revealed Law), and through his following the Path he seeks to penetrate to their inner significance (al-ma'na 'l-batini). He believes that Tawhid/Shar', experienced as one Reality, is the world's foundation and its subsistence. He is deeply aware of the mystery of being and believes that it is possible to eliminate the element of non-being and attain union with God along lines of Islamic insight. The Unity is central, but the Sufi attached a mystical meaning to it (the doctrine of unification), as he did to the Shar'. The Muslim theosophist goes much further. But the doctrine of the theosophists is not our concern, except in so far as aspects become part of the thought of the orders. The great theosophists, those who have gone through crises in which the world of invisible things is revealed, have generally dwelt upon the fringe of Islam, condemned by the orthodox to whom God and the mystery of life are unknowable.
Al-Qushairi prepared the way for Muslims to find a via media:
The Shari'a is concerned with the observance of the outward mani­festations of religion [i.e. rites and acts of devotion ('ibddai) and duties (mu'dmaldt)]; whilst Haqiqa (Reality) concerns inward vision of divine power (mushdhaddt ar-Rububiyya). Every rite not informed by the spirit of Reality is valueless, and every spirit of Reality not restrained by the Law is incomplete. The Law exists to regulate mankind, whilst the Reality makes us to know the dispositions of God. The Law exists for the service of God, whilst the Reality exists for contemplation of Him. The Law exists for obeying what He had ordained, whilst the Reality concerns witnessing and understanding the order He has decreed: the one is outer, the other inner. I heard the learned Abu 'All ad-Daqqaq say, 'The phrase lyydka na'budu (Thee we serve) is for sustaining the Law, whilst lyydka nasta'in (Thy help we ask) is for affirming the Reality'. Know that the Law is the Reality because God
ordained it, and the Reality is also the Law because it is the knowledge of God likewise ordained by Him.1
Those who maintained the teaching of the order-leaders went to the extreme in affirming their orthodoxy. We do not conse­quently find any tariqas avowedly deriving from the teaching of men like Ibn al-'Arabi or Ibn Sab'in;2 although the developed

1 Ar-Risdlat al-Qushairiyya, Cairo edn., a.h. 1319, p. 43. The two phrases quoted by ad-Daqqaq are from the Fatiha, the opening chapter of the Qur'an.
2 This is not to deny the existence of consciously maintained silsilas claiming to be from such men as al-Hallaj. Ibn Taimiyya says that Ibn Sab'in's dhikr formula (khirqa Sab'Iniyya) was laisa illd'lldh (there is nothing but God) and that its isndd relied 'upon the authority of Hallaj among other impious men'.
Ibn Sab'in, an intellectually illuminated gnostic and not necessarily a Sufi, after being expelled from Ceuta, eventually took refuge in Mecca with his considerable following of novices and adepts. He survived in Mecca for a long while, but was eventually put under house-arrest and died in 669/1270. The poet Shushtarl, who took his place at the head of the devotees (mutajarridiri), brought to Egypt before Ibn Sab'in's death about 400 adepts, including Abu Ya'qub al-Mubashshir, the hermit of Bab Zuwaila in Cairo; L. Massignon, art. 'Shushtari', E.I.1 iv. 393.

ideas of tasawzouf can hardly be conceived of without taking into account the influence of the first, which ideas seeped in an indirect way into the teaching of the orders. Consequently, and in spite of this apparent accommodation with the Shari'a, the order-leaders never overcame the suspicion of orthodoxy. The orthodox in general did not hesitate to denounce the dictum of al-Qushairi just quoted that 'the Shari'a is the Haqiqa'. They especially dis­trusted the claim that Sufism was an esoteric Way, a mystery religion, open only to an elect. This aspect the order-leaders were especially concerned to tone down and succeeded in doing so, turning Sufism eventually into a system of devotion, higher morality, and emotional exercise and release. At the same time, in their notion of wildya they fostered and secured the practical acceptance of their own doctrine of election.
We have shown that Sufism could never be fully accommodated into the Islamic prophetical structure, but was allowed to exist parallel to it, and that orders were the means whereby aspects of the Sufi outlook were mediated to the capacity and needs of the ordinary man. It is far beyond the scope of this study to enlarge upon the Ways of Sufism in its many variations; for this the best guides are the works of the Sufis themselves, provided that one guards against any attempt to reduce Sufism to a single pattern or to systematize it as a philosophical system. We shall not attempt to do more than draw attention to particular aspects which find expression (and in some respects a system) in the orders.
A brief reference to early mysticism is perhaps called for here. Early mysticism had to face the implications of the doctrine of tanzih, that there can be no reciprocal communion between God and man, since there can only be love between like and like, and God is totally unlike anything He has created.1 The mystics

1 For the Sufi of the Path theological questions of transcendence and imman­ence have no meaning. His experience of the mystery of the Godhead and of union fuse as one. The problem exercised men like the elder Ghazali, who grasped the dangers of tanzih (see, e.g., his Iljam al-'awdm 'an 'Urn al-kaldm, Cairo edn., a.h. 1351, p. 33) though he never transcended this duality in ideated experience. The philosophical Sufis had their own definitions of tanzih.
broke the barrier set up by the formulators of such a doctrine, since the very foundation of the mystical approach is the belief, in fact the experienced knowledge, that there is an inner kinship or relationship between human and divine, between Creator and created, though the interest of the mystics was always in the God-pole, not the man-pole, in this God-man relationship. The doctrine of love (Qur'an, v. 59) preached by early mystics like Dhu 'n-Nun al-Misri, Rabi'a al-'Adawiyya, al-Muhasibi, and al-Hallaj, was viewed with the gravest suspicion by conformists to the narrow path of legal Islam,1 and, in the subsequent period, when ways of securing right of asylum for the mystical Way were being sought (it was found, for instance, that the legalists could swallow camels more easily than gnats), mysticism lost its sim­plicity and direct intensity of communion through its being transformed into an esoteric Way and also a transformation of
relationship—was there in fact any distinction at all between God and man ?
This early mysticism was unknown to the men of the orders. They did not read the writings of early mystics.2 It is true that their sayings were quoted in the order literature in the form of mystical hadith, but these sayings were not used in order to teach their Way but carefully chosen and quoted with the aim of illustrating and supporting a particular order aim, doctrine, or discipline. The scarcity of hadith props, both prophetic and mystical, in the writings of the early Sufis should be compared with their profusion in the order-leaders' writings on Sufi discipline, as, for example, in the 'Awarif of Shihab ad-din as-Suhrawardi. The first were writing out of direct experience, the second were obsessed with the need to show authority and precedent for every statement.
The orders were the vehicles, not the substance, of the mystic life; imperfect vehicles, it is true, but they were the organized means by which the vast accumulation of Sufi experience was

1 This was one of the issues in the persecution of Sufis during the reign of al-Mu'tamid (a.d. 870—93), referred to by al-Qushairi, Risala, p. 112.
2 We can get some idea of the popularity of works through the number of manuscripts which survive; many books have disappeared, whilst some of the most significant works survive in only one copy.
mediated to many different types of aspirants. We are not, there­fore, concerned with making direct recourse to the thought of mystics and theosophists, but with the interpreters and utilizers of their works, and more especially with those elements of their theosophical thought which were taken up and adapted by the order-formulators to become an integral part of their liturgies, nativity dramas, and prayer manuals.
One difficulty in understanding and interpretation arises from Sufi terminology. Sufism was not a doctrine, we have said, but an activity, a pilgrimage in depth. Sufis could not keep their experi­ences to themselves, they had to express them in words. To enable them to do this they had provided themselves with a specialized vocabulary complementary to that of legalistic Islam. For example, ilham, generally translated 'inspiration', is in their usage near in meaning to personal 'revelation', though contrasted with wahy, exoteric impersonal prophetic revelation. Similarly, kardmdt applied to the charismata of saints was contrasted with mu'jizat, prophetic evidential miracles. Terms taken from the Qur'an were given specialized meanings. Dhu 'n-Nun, on being asked the meaning of tawba, replied, 'The "repentance" of the common herd is from sins, whilst the repentance of the elect is from in­attention (ghafla).'1 Expressions, however, which are most integral
to Sufi thought and expression, keywords like ma'rifa, wajd, ma'na, and haqtqa, are not found in the Qur'an. Nothing of this provides any difficulty, one can always learn the vocabulary; the difficulty arises from the fact that every mystical writer of insight transforms the meaning of the terms he employs to conform to his own subjective emotional usage, since his meaning is based upon his personal imaged experience (and one must allow too for their disordered or inchoate imaginations), not on some objective concept for which a particular term stands. This is all taken very seriously by many western students of Sufism as well as by apolo­gists for Sufi pantheism. However, the orders have simplified it for us. Within them the meanings of the terms became stereotyped, in the same way as the 'stages' were marked out according to the patterns developed by those leaders who stabilized the insights and practices of the founder. Consequently, self-deception
must

1 Ar-Risalat al-Qushairiyya, edn. cit., p. 9; Shihab ad-din, 'Awarif, p. 338. Ghafla in a strict sense (as here) is momentary forgetfulness of God; in a wider sense it is preoccupation with self.
be added to spiritual pride as one of the hazards of the dervish life, since the methods and patterns tended to be followed auto­matically without necessarily corresponding to any felt inner experience. The meaning of the terminology degenerated from relationship to God to relationship to a dead saint or living shaikh, the medium between God and man. Thus muraqaba (lit. aware­ness, but also contemplation, meditation)1 by degrees acquires new meanings, until it comes to signify, in the orders, participation in the being of that which is being contemplated—God, Muhammad, or one's director, living or dead.
Since the orders are, on the one hand, practical Ways, and, on the other, repositories of esoteric beliefs—to some even of divine wisdom (hikma ildhiyya = theosophia)—their doctrine is not clearly formulated. Cult more than belief integrated the ikhwdn. Beliefs have to be abstracted from the accounts of dhikr practice to discover what is being aimed at, from the reported sayings, prayers,2 and songs of founding shaikhs and order formulators, and from books on Sufi conduct or rules (ddab or huquq at-tariq), which embrace both regulations concerning such matters as the inter-relationships between shaikh and novice and the rules for ritual. Especially valuable are the lives of the leaders and collections of their sayings (hikam). One may claim that in the orders Sufi doctrine and teaching was conveyed through sayings, precepts, and parables. A Sufi artist like Jalal ad-din Rumi paints his word-pictures, parables, and allegories without conscious
applica­tion, without attempting to expound, portraying those aspects of Reality he was gifted to see without attempting to build up some theory about the meaning of existence. A popular work like Ahmad ibn M. al-'Abbad's Al-Mafdkhir al-'aliyyafi 'l-ma'akhir ash-Shadhiliyya consists of a collection of the sayings of Abu '1-Hasan 'All, arranged under subject headings, with a long section devoted to his ahzab, but nothing in the nature of coherent doc­trinal formulation, since the tariqa does not possess any. All this is apart from the gnostic chain, which claims to transmit and interpret an esoteric doctrine reserved for the fully initiated alone.

1 In the early systematic study of Sufism by as-Sarraj this was the first of the mystical states; see Kitdb al-Luma', ed. R. A. Nicholson, pp. 54-5.
2 A valuable study of the devotional material, much of a high spiritual ordi'r, which is given in the prayer manuals of the orders, is Constance Padwicli'n Muslim Devotions, London, 1961.
The Truth which the seeker seeks is existential; it must be apprehended by the whole personality. The cognitive aspect, therefore, is mediated through its integral union with practice. Action, the song, exercise and dance, with the attendant sym­bolism, is the primary form of communication. Teaching is relatively subordinate, and in any case is inseparable from pro­gressive experience. The master taught the seeker Sufi sym­bolism by stages, continually testing his progress and allotting increasingly exacting litany tasks. As the seeker practised these, it was believed, he was able to apprehend the unteachable, to seize upon truth intuitively. In practice, the three main spheres of religious apprehension—belief, the ritual through which, and the way of life in which, it is expressed—are brought into har­moniously balanced relationship. Faith is not intellectual appre­hension as such. Belief retains its hold because it is a system of life. Ritual
is the medium which conveys, re-enacts, teaches intuitively, and binds. So Sufism developed mystical techniques to enable the seeker to arrive at ma'rifa (esoteric knowledge). Ma'rifa, therefore, is no intellectual gnosis, but direct 'perception' of God.


Masters of the Way realized that the mystical tendency is highly dangerous as an individual experience, since the soul under the influence of a 'state' is wide open to delusion and self-deception. There are mystic Ways to other gods than God. Hence they insisted upon the necessity for guidance under an experienced director. In the next stage they themselves became the medium between God and man. Jalal ad-din Rumi writes:
When the Pir has accepted thee, take heed, surrender thyself (to him): go, like Moses, under the authority of Khizr. . . . God has declared that his (the Pir's) hand is as His own, since He gave out (the words) the Hand of God is above their hands1 ... If any one, by rare exception, traversed this Way alone (without a Pir), he arrived (at his goal) through the help (and favour) of the hearts of the Plrs. The hand of the Pir is not withdrawn from the absent (those who are not under his authority): his hand is naught but the grasp of God.2
The last phrase shows that Jalal ad-din saw even the lone seekers as being spiritually under guidance.

1 Qur'an, xlviii. 10, referring to the oath of allegiance given to the Prophet at Hudaibiya.
2 Jalal ad-din Rumi, Masnazoi, tr. R. A. Nicholson, London, 1926, i. 162.
In the final stage they denied the right of the individual, not merely to seek a Path by trial and error, but even under guidance, for the shaikhs were the mediators, and the allotting of spiritual tasks became a mechanical process. The murid's initiation involved the surrender of his will to that of the shaikh. A Tijani manual begins, 'Praise is due to God who gave a means to everything and made the mediating shaikh a means to union with God.'1 Although the orders are the embodiment of the mystical experience, yet their distinctive feature is that 'knowledge' of the divine rests upon wildya, and wilaya is transmitted through the shaikh. We have said that changes took place in the meaning of Sufi terms: the word tawajjuh (mental concentration), for example, comes to mean in the terminology of eastern orders, the spiritual assis­tance rendered by the saint to his devotee, or by the murshid to his murid. In this exercise the shaikh (in a state ofjadhb ?)
concentrates upon the murid, picturing the spinning of a line of linkage between his pineal heart (al-qalb as-sanawbari) and the heart of the murid through which power can flow. At the same time, the murid con­centrates upon becoming a passive vessel for the inflowing power of the shaikh. With others tawajjuh is the attempt to contact the spirit of a dead shaikh.2
The masters of the Way were fully conscious of the dangers of incurring the charge of bid'a (innovation). Islam was spared the Christian conception of heresy as deviation from norms of belief. Orthodoxy is a matter of practice rather than belief; it is conformity to the Law; the welfare of the community involves surrender to the Law. We have seen that there is nothing surprising in the order-leaders insisting upon observance of the Shari'a, since they believed that this was coexistent with the divine Unity; they simply claimed that there was an outer and an inner knowledge (al-'ilm az-zdhiri and al-'ilm al-bdtinf). The td'ifas tended, there­fore, to be in an ambivalent position. They were rarely attacked on the ground of belief, but usually on the ground of deviations in practice.
The first concern of the founder and leaders of a td'ifa was to assert their orthodoxy. This was simply obtained by the truly

1 M. 'Alwan al-Jawsqi, As-Sirr al-Abhar, Cairo, n.d., p. 3.
2 See for different aspects of [awajjuh], pp. 58, 213-14.
Islamic expedient of producing an isnad.1 In order to avoid any reproach of bid'a all a shaikh needed was to demonstrate that he had followed the course of a well-known Sufi. He could then use the authority of his master and all the transmissory links right back to one of the first four Caliphs as a prop (sanad) for his teach­ing and practice. This is that chain of authority or mystical isndd called the silsila. As new ideas were fostered on eminent Sufis of past ages in order to make these ideas respectable,2 so the silsila provided a doctrinal as well as a power-line going back to these 'rightly-guided ones'. This claim that these caliphs were Sufis was invented during the period when Sufism was struggling for recognition against the opposition of the legalists. Ibn Khaldun rejects all such claims. None of the early caliphs, he says, 'was distinguished by the possession of any particular religious practice exclusively peculiar to him'.3 'All
al-Hujwirl relates4 each caliph to different aspects of the Sufi Path: Abu Bakr represents the contemplative Way (mushdhada), 'Umar the purgative Way (mujShada), 'Uthman that of friendship (khulla) with God, and 'All is the guide to the principles and practice of divine Reality (Haqiqa). In practice the silsilas of the tariqas are traced back to only three of these caliphs. 'All is the primary source, some have a line to Abu Bakr5 or 'Umar,6 but I have not come across a line to 'Uthman.7
The developed silsila of the orders embraces two divisions: silsilat al-baraka(chain of benediction), connects the present shaikh

1 It seems unnecessary to follow Ibn Khaldun (see Muqaddama, tr. Rosen-thai, iii. 93) in attributing this craving for an isnad to Shi'i practice.
* 'All al-Hujwiri gives an illuminating instance of this practice when he writes of al-Khuldi (d. 348/959), 'He is the well-known biographer of the Saints . . . He has many sublime sayings. In order to avoid spiritual conceit, he attributed to different persons the anecdotes which he composed in illustration of each topic" (Kashf al-mahjiib, pp. 156—7). The reference is to al-Khuldi's Hikmat al-awliya', a work now lost but drawn upon freely by later biographers.
3 Ibn Khaldun, Muqaddama, tr. F. Rosenthal, iii. 93.
4 Kashf al-Mahjub, pp. 70-4.
5 For example, Naqshabandiyya, Yasaviyya, and Bektashiyya; see D'Ohsson, Tableau, iv. 2. 626, al-Wasiti, Tirydq, p. 47.
6 For example, the Rifa'iyya. Of the 'Uqailiyya, a Syrian branch of the Ba?a-'ihiyya which Ibn ar-Rifa'i made famous, founded by a Kurd called 'Uqail al-Manbaji ibn Shihab ad-din Ahmad, we read, 'He was the first to introduce al-Khirqat al-'Umariyya into Syria' (al-Wasiti, Tirydq, p. 47).
7 Evliya Chelebi says that the Zainiyya (Suhrawardi line, see Appendix C) trace their line to 'Uthman; see von Hammer's translation (London, 1845-50), I. ii. 29.
through the founder of the iffifa with the founder of the tariqa; whilst silsilat al-Wird (chain of initiation) connects the tariqa-founder with one of the first khalifas and the Prophet.1 Recitation of these chains forms part of the spiritual exercises of members of the orders. Other terminology may be used. The Naqshabandis call the chain from the founder to the Prophet silsilat adh-dhahdb (the chain of gold), and that from the founder to the shaikh silsilat at-tarbiya (chain of upbringing), the links being called shuyukh at-tarbiya, or, with Suhrawardis, shuyukh al-asdtidha.
Sufism which, in its simple development, we believe to be a natural interiorization of Islam, had come to embrace, not only this theory of election but also a theosophy which was basically alien to Islam. Without overstressing pantheistic tendencies we may point out that the Sufi's relationship to God was unusual. When 'possessed' (majdhuV) he was not responsible for his words and actions, he could do and say things which would be blas­phemous if said by others.2 In other words, the phenomenon of temporary loss of personality (wajd) provided an opportunity for introducing the inexplicable. Since all order-leaders were pro­fessed Sufis, their writings were necessarily full of the Path they laid out for others to follow. The founder's particular bent indicated the general tendency and emphasis. A perusal of the writings giving the principles behind the practice, the teaching to be followed, and especially the prayers, litanies,
nativity-recitals,
and poems, would give orthodoxy frequent reason for condemnation. Yet such men as the Hanbalis Ibn al-Jawzi and Ibn Taimiya tried and failed. It is very difficult to be convicted of heresy in Islam where judgement on a man's interior motives is reserved to God and man's judgement is based largely on a per­son's action. Only if a shaikh introduced innovations in religious

1 But it may happen that the two or more silsilas are traced through to com­panions of the Prophet. Thus of the initiators of ash-Shadhili (see Maghribl initiatory table) it is claimed that M. ibn Harazim linked him with Abu Bakr (silsilat al-baraka), Ibn Mashish with 'Al! (silsilat al-irdda), and Abu '1-Fatli al-Wasiti with 'Umar.
2 'Ain al-Qudat al-Hamadani explains in his Apologia: 'Sufis have utterances which they call shath. This term refers to those peculiar expressions which spring to their lips when in a state of intoxication and under the intense ebulli­tion of ecstasy (wajd). When in such a state a man is incapable of restraininu himself (Shagwd 'l-gharib, ed. inJ.Asiat. ccxvi (1930), 61). All the Sufi manual* deal with this phenomenon, see Abu Nasr as-Sarraj, Kitdb al-Luma' fi'l-tasawtvuf, ed. R. A. Nicholson, pp. 375-409.

law, or repudiated it, could he be condemned. Consequently, the leaders stressed that their religious practice was fully in line with the shari'a and their writings are choked with hadiths justifying it. The orders claim to possess an esoteric system inherited through the links of the chain (ahl as-silsila). This is taught only to a few adepts who have persevered through a full course of training and have received manifestations of divine graces. Here again one must reiterate that no abstract doctrines are taught. In order thought Sufism is primarily the Way of Purification (tariq al-mujdhadd). This is the first path that emerged with the move­ment from self-denying devotion to mysticism. This was soon paralleled with that of the States (dhwal), bestowed upon the sdlik regardless of striving as signs of God's favour, yet at the same time in practice in intimate association with each stage of the Path, which may be summarized as
purification/vision (mujahadalkashf}. Sufism systematizes the personal striving, but it affirms none the less the role of the divine initiative, the gratuity of the gift of visions and graces, and the passive receptivity of the nafs (soul) that, as it empties itself of the contingent, receives.
Out of these unveilings (very strongly influenced from earlier sources) grew up an esoteric system. Some people thought it wrong to express the esoteric doctrine in writing for anyone to read. Thus al-Ghazali wrote at the beginning of his Ihyd': 'The concern of this book is with practical knowledge ('Urn al-mu'dmala) only, rather than contemplative knowledge ('ilm al-mukdshafa) which one is not allowed to set down in books, though it is the real purpose of the seeker.'1 The deepest esoteric teachings did in fact find their expression on paper for all to read, but reading does not mean understanding; it still remains 'secret' and 'hidden' to the uninitiate and unilluminate. Al-Ghazali himself did not understand, that is why he writes in this way. Anyway this belief in a secret doctrine always persisted within the orders. Many joined hoping to attain this knowledge-with-power, but in prac­tice what was taught was the method of the Way. The teaching is
experienced by the murid as he carries out his exercises in the khalwa. In the ordinary way the stress is on the allocation of prayer-tasks, the times and modes of recitation, participation in other forms of devotion, pursuance of a course of ascetic discipline, fulfilment of the order's material obligations, and acceptance of the

Al-Ghazali, Ihyd' (Cairo, 1358/1939), i. to—II.
spiritual experiences, supra-normal exploits, and continuing power
of the saints.
The stages of the Path, as mediated through the orders, should be given, since they constituted a very real thing with the dedicated dervishes and are found in the popular manuals. Symbolic schemes were produced. Whilst these were based on the Sufis' versions of their spiritual pilgrimage, the mystical scheme adopted in the orders became stereotyped. We reproduce on pages 152 and 153 the commonest diagrammatization of the Seven Stages, taken from As-Sanusi's Salsabil from the section dealing with the Khal-watiyya,1 but it is widespread and found in other order manuals, though with variations.2
This schema is related to the fantasy of 70,000 veils of light and darkness (inner side light and outer side dark) intervening between the individual soul and the Reality they obscure. Hence the need for seven series of purifications of the nafs or soul, in order that these may be rent aside, 10,000 at a time. Readers who are acquainted with the writings of Sufis will be able to follow the map, others could have no better introduction than 'Attar's Mantiq at-Tair, where the seven valleys traversed by the birds of the quest are: Search, Love, mystic Apprehension, Detachment/ Independence, Unity, Bewilderment, and Fulfilment in Annihila­tion.3 Here only tbe briefest indication towards the clarification of the schema can be given. What needs to be brought out is that the purpose of the discipline of the dhikr (in its comprehensive sense), which will be described in chapter seven, is to achieve this purification. The aspirant has: (di) to purify his nafs,
i.e. his

1 As-SanusI, Salsabil, p. 105.
2 The diagram is given, for example, in the popular Qadiri manual, Al-Fuyuddt ar-Rabbdniyya, compiled by Isma'Il ibn M. Sa'id, p. 34. The different versions, if not accompanied by a commentary, help to clear up confusions; thus the just-mentioned Qadiri version shows that C4 is, ' Alam al-Haqiqat al-Muhammadiyya (see p. 163), cs is 'Alam al-Ldhut, 'World of the Godhead', and c? Kathrafi 'l-wahda wa wahdafi 'l-kathra, 'multiplicity in unity and unity
in multiplicity'.
3 The form was first devised by Ibn Sina (d. a.d. 1037) with a philosophical aim (Risdlat at-tair, ed. L. Cheikho in al-Mashriq, iv (1901), 882-7) and taken up as a Sufi pilgrimage in a little treatise with the same title, which is attributed to Muhammad al-Ghazali but is much more likely to be by his brother Ahmad (d. a.d. 1126), except for the last two fasIs which have been added by a later hand. This has also been edited by L. Cheikho in al-Mashriq, iv. 918-24. It ii presumably from this that 'Attar (completed his Mantiq in 573/1177—8) adopted the conceit (cf. Qur'an, xxvii. 16) as a framework for his stories.

personality-self, from its inclination to shahawat, that is, the thoughts and desires of the natural man, and (da) substitute these with love (mahabba); then (d3) he must be cast into the flames of passion ('ishq), to emerge (d4) in the state of union (wusla), with (ds) transmutation of self (/«««'), through (d6) the gifts of dazzle-ment and wonder (haira), to (dy) everlastingness (baqd').
The stages through which the nafs progresses to its annihila­tion in fulfilment are: I, when the carnal mind is dominant, the soul 'unregenerate'; II, when it is 'accusatory' and is resisted but still unsubmissive; III, when it is 'aspiring'; IV, when the carnal mind is completely subdued and 'the soul at rest' (Qur'an, xiii. 28); V, when the soul is (God-)satisfied; VI (God-)satisfying, approved; and VII, clarified or sanctified.1
Each of the seven stages of purification or apocalypses of the veils is distinguished by the appearance of a different coloured light. The order of the colours and their significance varies, but colourlessness is the sign of the final stage of no individualization (ta'ayyun) or limitation, but only a realm of pure Being and absolute Unity: la ildha ilia And.
The order manuals, especially those of the nineteenth-century orders, tend to treat this process along the lines of an ethical-ascetical, rather than a mystical, pilgrimage. The orders have special dhikrs corresponding to the seven spiritual attributes and stages in purification of the nafs. As a typical example we give a translation of the relevant section of the Mirghani treatise, Minhat al-ashdb, by Ahmad ibn 'Abd ar-Rahman ar-Rutbi:2
It is your duty, my brother, to struggle with the soul, this being the major jihad, to the end that the soul maybe delivered from reprehensible attributes through their substitution by praiseworthy ones.
(ti) The Unregenerate Soul (an-nafs al-ammdra) has among its attributes: ignorance, stinginess, covetousness, pride, anger, lust, envy, heedless-ness, ill-nature, interfering in things not one's concern, and the like;

1 This final stage is given in the table as an-nafs al-kdmila, 'the Perfect r< I Soul'. In the Fuyudat it appears as an-nafs as-sdfiya, 'the Clarified Soul'; elsewhere as an-nafs as-safiyya. Safd or safiua is defined as 'to be pure from all misting things', and as 'the essence of fand'; it is 'one of the names of per­fection" (Hujwm, Kashf, tr., p. 58). In the table its meaning is quite unequivocal. I • From the collection of treatises entitled Ar-Rasd'il al-Mirghaniyyit, ('niro, 1358/1939, pp. 93—4. A longer account of the soul's purification is ^i\m in .is Sanusi, Salsabil, pp. 183-92. Since the phraseology is frequently identictil Iliry must have their origin in a common source.
together with hatred, mocking and injuring others either physically or verbally, and suchlike bad things. This is the reprobate soul, but struggle with it will promote it to:
(b) the Second Stage (maqam), which is the Blameworthy Soul (an-nafs al-lawwamd), and its attributes are: blame, speculation, vanity, opposi­tion to people, secret hypocrisy, and love of fame and authority. There­fore its attributes are blameworthy too, for they are maladies for which there is no other remedy than persistent dhikr and struggle, until they are got rid of, when one attains:
(c) the Third Stage, when it becomes the Inspired Soul (al-mulhama), all of whose attributes are praiseworthy. Its qualities are generosity, contentment, knowledge, humility, patience, gentleness, forbearance of injury, pardoning everyone and accepting their excuses, witnessing that 'God holds by the forelock every creature' (Qur'an, xi. 56), hence he would never criticize anything whatsoever in creation. This soul is called 'inspired' because God infused it with both immoral and moral qualities. Therefore, gird up your loins, abandon sleep, praying earnestly and repeating the dhikr until daybreak, so that you may attain to:
(d) the Fourth Stage, in which the soul becomes Tranquil (mutmainna). Among its qualities are liberality, trust (tawakkul), gentleness, adoration, gratitude, contentment with fate, and patience under calamities. Among the signs which show that the pilgrim has entered the fourth grade in which the soul is named 'tranquil' is steadfastness under any conditions, his only delight being in behaving like the Chosen One (the Prophet) until he is promoted to:
(e) the Fifth Stage, in which the soul is called Contented (radiyd). Among its attributes are renunciation of everything save God, fidelity, godfearingness, contentedness with all that takes place in the world without palpitation of heart and with no remonstrance whatsoever. That is because he is absorbed in contemplation of absolute Beauty. He who is in this grade is immersed in the sea of grace with God. His prayer will not be rejected, it being understood that, out of modesty and courtesy, his tongue will be incapable of making petition unless absolutely impelled to do so, only then may he ask and his request cannot fail.1 The dhikr of this maqam is Hayy. Keep on with it, so that your transitoriness (fana') may fade and you will attain immortality (baqd') in the Hayy? Then you enter upon:

1 Nowhere is the unillumined ethical nature of the Path more obvious than here, since for the mystic in this advanced stage no problem of answer to pray2 The whole stress within the Junaidi tradition (as contrasted with the Bistami tradition, where the concept was different) was on the attributes, the annihilation of the imperfect (fand') and their replacement by positive attri­butes; see al-Qushairi, Risdla, ed. 1319, pp. 36-7. It was this which kept the tradition firmly within orthodoxy.
(/) the Sixth Stage, in which the soul is called Approved (mardiyyd). Among its attributes are subtlety of nature, abandonment of all save God, kindness to all creatures, prompting them to prayer, forgiving their sins, loving them, with compassion towards all, helping them to expel the dark sides of their natures and souls and thereby to bring forth the lights of their spiritual nature. . . . Among the attributes of this soul is union between love of the created and the Creator. This is something amazing, and it is very difficult except for those who have attained this grade. This soul has been called 'approved' because the Real is satisfied with it. Its movement is from God (sairuha 'an Allah); in other words, it has acquired what it needed of knowledge from the Living and Self-subsisting Itself. The soul has returned from the Un­seen World ('Alam al-ghaib) back to the Evidential World ('Alam ash-shahada) by God's permission, in order to benefit
mankind with the graces which God has bestowed upon it.1 When the soul is promoted to: (g) the Seventh Stage, wherein it is called the Perfect Soul (an-nafs al-kdmila), its qualities embrace all the good attributes of the souls which have already been described. Thus he becomes complete. The name with which this perfected one should occupy himself is 'al-Qahhar' (the Subduer), which is the seventh Name. This is the purest of the grades, because the name Qahhar is one of the names of the Qutb. The shaikhs have said: 'From this name the Qutb supplies the aspirants with lights, gifts, and glad tidings'; and also, 'the joy that illuminates the hearts of the aspirants, and the delights and trances that overcome one without cause are due to the provision of the Qutb rather than to their dhikrs and turning their faces to their Lord (tawajjuhatuhum K Rabbihim).'
Abu Hamid al-Ghazali's interiorized ethical approach, on the one hand, and that of the orders in their interpretation of the Path on the other, are most important in view of the explicit extrinsic approach of Islamic legalism which judges only the external, a person's responsibility for his actions, but not the motive for the actions; for example, murder but not hatred.
Yet in spite of their stress upon morality (e.g. tawba meaning 'repentance' and not some esoteric signification), the orders could never solve the problem of the distinction between the spiritual and the ethical. The ethical virtues (the craving for inward


' This is the journey back to the world of manifestation, return to conscious­ness of the plurality of the world, a return in a transformed state as a murshid to try to make the world more perfect.

The theosophists represent these three stages as bridging four spheres of existence. In the Ghawthiyya—or, better, the alternative title, Mi'rajiyya—an interesting little questionnaire addressed to God by 'Abd al-Qadir al-JIlani (whom God respectfully addresses in every sentence as 'Yd Ghawth ai-a'zam'), God says, 'Every phase between Ndsut and Malakut is the Shan a; and every phase between Malakut and Jabarut is the Tariqa; and every phase between Jabarut and Lahut is the Haqiqa.'1
'Alam an-Ndsut is 'the world of humanity', perceived through the physical senses; the material phenomenal world, which Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (who adopts the terminology if not the sub­stance) calls 'Alam al-mulk wa 'sh-shahdda.
'Alam al-Malakut, 'the world of sovereignty', is the invisible, spiritual, angelic world,2 that which is perceived through insight and the spiritual faculties. According to some it is the uncreated macrocosm.
'Alam al-Jabarut, 'the world of power', is the celestial world, that which is perceived through entering into and partaking of the divine nature. It is also the world of the divine Names and Qualities.
'Alam al-Ldhut is 'the world of the Godhead', not perceived, since now the phenomenal is absorbed into timeless unicity.
Although this sort of thing belongs to the realm of speculative mystical theology, these spheres constantly appear in the order manuals in regard to the Sufi Path. In this respect, as in the quotation given above ascribed to 'Abd al-Qadir: Ndsut is the natural human state in which one lives following the rules of the shari'a;

1 Quoted in Isma'il b. M. Sa'id's compilation, Al-Fuyudat ar-Rabbaniyya, a manual for the average adherent, Cairo, A.H. 1353, p. 4. This questionnaire is most valuable to show how theosophical ideas were represented for the ordin­ary adherent. It was not, of course, written by 'Abd al-Qadir, for it is stylistically direct and simple and contains material no Hanbali would have written. 'Abd al—Qadir would have been shocked to read it, but the belief in a secret esoteric doctrine allows one to foist beliefs and sayings upon an early Sufi.
2 Bdfin al-kawn in Suhrawardi, 'Awdrif, p. 62.
Malakut is the nature of angels, to reach which one treads the tariqa, the path of purification; whilst
Jabarut is the nature of power, to attain which one follows the way of enlightenment, ma'rifa, until one swoons into
Fand', absorption into Deity, the State of Reality (Haqtqa), often called in the order literature 'Alam al-Ghaib, 'the (uncreated) world of the mystery'.

We have already shown how mysticism, working within the purely Unitarian system of Islam, diverged into two directions— pantheism and saint-veneration—whilst at the same time main­taining a middle path. After centuries of mystical experimentation speculative mysticism came to embrace a Logos doctrine1 which, without impairing the divine Unity, provided a philosophical basis for the practical devotion to saints and Prophet which had formed in response to people's need. Ibn al-'Arabi, with his doctrine of the Unity [a priori] of Being (wahdat al-wujud), taught that 'all things pre-exist as ideas in the knowledge of God, whence they emanate and whither they ultimately return'.2
He developed more fully the doctrine of the pre-existence of Muhammad before creation. This is the doctrine of An-Niir al-Muhammadi,3 the Muhammadan Light, the image of God in its primary entity, the divine consciousness, the pre-creation light from which everything was created. It is also called al-Haqiqat al-Muhammadiyya, that is, cosmic Muhammad in his absolute reality. The world is a manifestation of that Light; it became incarnate in Adam, the prophets, and the Aqtdb (sing. Qutb, 'Axis'), each of whom is al-Insdn al-Kdmil (the Perfect Man).
The work of the systematizers of the orders4 was to apply the philosophy of Sufism to the needs of the ordinary believer. They

' Al-Hakim at-Tirmidhi (d. a.d. 898) was the first within an Islamic context lei write about the Logos, for which he uses the word Dhikr: 'Wa kdna 'lldhu wa lii shai'un, fa jard 'dh-Dhikr' (Khatm al-Wildya, ed. 'Uthman Isma'il Yahya, l> 337)-
* R. A. Nicholson in The Legacy of Islam, Oxford, 1931, p. 224.
' The concept has been frequently discussed; see, for example, 'Afifl, The Mystical Philosophy of Ibn al-'Arabi, Cambridge, 1939.
4 The orders were more concerned with mediating works such as 'Abd al-Knrlm al-Jili's Al-Insdn al-Kdmil, or his commentary on Ibn al-'Arabi's ,'ll-Asfdr 'an risdlat al-anwdr fima yatajalld It ah! adh-dhikr min al-amvdr, published with al-Jili's commentary, Damascus, 1348/1929, pp. 293 ff.

had to disavow beliefs which might be labelled pantheistic, for any such profession would give the 'ulama1 the opportunity to condemn for which they were always waiting. It was easy to exercise pressure upon professional institutional Sufism. In Egypt in the mid-fourteenth century the directive given by Mamluk authority to the shaikh ash-shuyiikh affirms that the only way to God is through the Qur'an and the Sunna as embodied in Shar'. The Shaikh 'shall censure anyone who inclines towards belief in ittihdd or hulul, or claims that it is possible to attain to God by any way other than that defined by the Prophets'.1 Naturally many orders maintained their own exclusive secret doctrine and par­ticularly censured members who leaked any of the doctrine; for this reason ash-Shibli and Safi ad-din al-Ardablll censured al-Hallaj.2
Through the popular devotional manuals of the orders these theosophical doctrines percolated into the people's religion. They are more evident in eastern orders. Here is a quotation from the mawlid of Muhammad 'Uthman al-Mirghani, whose teaching owes more to inherited family tradition, especially the Naqsha-bandi, than to his more austere master, Ahmad ibn Idris:

When God wished to project these higher and lower worlds He took a fistful of His Light and it was Muhammad ibn 'Adnan. He (the Prophet) said to Jabir, 'The first thing God created was the Light of your Prophet as an answer to His problem and I was a prophet when Adam was yet water and clay.' The Prophet said to Gabriel, 'How old are you, O Gabriel?' He said, 'I do not know, except that a planet appears in the Fourth Heaven once every 70,000 years (these are the concealed signs) and I have seen it 72,000 times exactly.' The Prophet said, in order to make known his rank and the secret of his Light, 'By the glory of my Lord, I am that planet which you have seen, O Gabriel, in the

1 Al-'Umari, At-ta'rif hi 'l-mustalah ash-sharif, Cairo, A.H. 1312, p. 128. The distinction between hulul and ittihdd is that between the Hallajian doctrine of al-ittihdd al-mu'in, the union of God with the individual (hulul must not be confused with the Christian doctrine of incarnation) and al-ittihdd al-'dmm al-mutlaq, the absolute union of divinity and the universe, professed by Hindu pantheists; on this distinction see Massignon's works on the beliefs of al-Hallaj and R. A. Nicholson's article 'Ittihdd' in E.I.1, ii. 565. The distinctions between these and itiahdat al-wujud, it need hardly be said, counted for nothing with the 'ulamd' who condemned them all, as did the orthodox middle-of-the-road Sufis; as-Simnani, for instance, regarded belief in ittihdd as ku.fr.
2 Al-'Attar, Tadhkirat al-azvliyd', ii. 26; Safyat as-Safd, according to B. Nikitine in J. Asiat. 1957, p. 389.
sky of the Benefactor, and other things which pens cannot put on paper and even the two writers of good and evil cannot preserve.'1

Crudely expressed though it may be, this conception has more than an academic interest, since it is heard at every dhikr-gathering. The same author in another work writes, 'Muhammad, . . . God's essence (lafif), the mystery within the Adamic creation, Light of lights, Mystery of mysteries, Spirit of spirits'.2 Sufi tradition, which needs no isnad* ascribes to Muhammad such sayings as, 'I am the Light of God and all things are from my Light.' The Perfect Man as Logos is the essence of every mystical experience. These conceptions can be held along with full attachment to the doctrine of the Unity.
But we must go further, for this conception comes still nearer to the people in the Qutb (Axis). In this conception nubuwwa is absorbed into wildya. The inner Sufi doctrine, like that of the Shi'is, is that wildya is superior to nubuwwa as a function, in that the latter is passive and finite, whilst wildya is ever active, timeless. The need for direct knowledge of the Word of God brings al-Haqiqat al-Muhammadiyya, the Logos, in every epoch to take on the form of one known as Qutb zamdnihi (the Axis of his age), who manifests himself only to a few chosen mystics.4 The concep­tion of the Qutb upon whom the world subsists (Sufi equivalent of the Shi'I Imam) at the head of an invisible hierarchy of awliyd' goes back long before the time of Ibn al-'Arabi, and is popularly regarded as having originated with Dhu 'n-Nun al-Misrl, in­heritor of Egyptian gnostic tradition. During the course of suc­ceeding ages this conception was vulgarized; it became a degree
of mystical attainment, then every holy man became a qutb, and

1 Mawlid al-Mirghani, chapter 2. This conception is found in all mawalid.
2 M. 'Uthman al-Mirghani, Al-Jawdhir al-mustazhara, p. 6, in the collec­tion al-Majmu'at al-Mirghaniyya.
3 The legalists constantly reproach the Sufis for not inventing an isndd to accompany their traditions.
4 Jill (d. c. 1410) writes of these manifestations in Al-Insdn al-Kdmil (tr. in part by R. A. Nicholson in Studies in Islamic Mysticism, Cambridge, 1921, p. 105), 'The Perfect Man is the Qutb (axis) on which the spheres of existence revolve from first to last, and since things came into being he is one (wdhid) for ever and ever. He hath various guises and appears in diverse bodily taber­nacles (kand'is): in respect of some of these his name is given to him, while in re­spect of others it is not given to him. His own original name is Mohammed. . . . In every age he bears a name suitable to his guise (libds) in that age.' See also Jili's commentary on Ibn al-'Arabi, Asfdr, pp. 299 ff.

it became necessary to define the Axis of the Universe by an epithet or complement as al-Qutb al-Ghawth, Qutb al-Aqtab, or Qutb al-'Alam, though these terms too lost significance when applied indiscriminately. When Ja'far al-Mirghani sings, 'I am the first who existed',1 he is identifying himself, not with the qufb of the Sufi hierarchy, but with the Logos Qutb. This idea lies behind the claims to seek absorption in the shaikh as in the following from a Chishti source: 'In the first stage the disciple is expected to love and look to his Shaikh as his all in all. He acts, talks and prays like the Shaikh; he eats, drinks and walks like the Shaikh and constantly meditates upon him. Having been, by this process, spiritually transformed into the Shaikh, the student (murid) is spiritually introduced to the Prophet.'2
It will be readily understood why Sufism, in many circles at least, centred around the personality of the shaikh. He is the symbol of the Qutb, invisible, unlimited. In Shi'i Sufi orders the assimilation of the Qutbl and Imami conceptions is peculiar. With Twelver Sufis the Qutb is the representative of the Imam on earth; hence the hatred of the mujtahids for Sufis. The first pillar of the Gunabadl branch of the Ni'matullahiyya is waldya or 'allegiance' to the Qutb, who is the actual present head of the order, even though through him all things subsist.3
The saints (ahl al-ghaib) form a hierarchical structure with the Qutb at the head. It is an old conception. 'All al-Hujwiri writes: 'Of those who have power to loose and bind and are the officers of the Divine court there are three hundred called Akhyar, and forty, called Abdal, and seven called Abrdr, and four called Awtad, and three called Nuqaba', and one called Qutb or Ghawth.'4
The terms and numbers vary and the following quotation gives the general lines of the pyramidal structure as understood in Nilotic Sudan: Shaikh Hasan ibn Hasuna (d. 1664) was asked about the rank of Musa

1 From the most popular Mirghani processional hymn; see songs appended to Ja'far's Qisfat al-mi'raj, Cairo, A.H. 1348, p. 124.
2 Quoted by J. Takle in The Moslem World, viii (1918), 252-3, from the book of a Calcutta leader of the Chishtiyya.
3 There was at one time a close association between the Ni'matullahiyyu and the 4Oth Nizarl Imam. This Imam, known as 'Ata'-Allah in Ni'matullalil circles, migrated with a group of followers from Khurasan to Kerman and the group subsisted as a sect known as the 'Ata'allahis.
4 Kashf al-makjub, tr. R. A. Nicholson, p. 214.
ibn Ya'qub. He replied, 'He holds the rank of fard among the Sufis. This is other than the Qutb, the four awtdd [supports], the seven nujaba' [nobles], and the forty abdal [substitutes]. Their number [that is, the afrdd] is equivalent to that of those who took part in the Battle of Badr [that is, three hundred], and they hold in relation to the Qutb the status of privates [to the general].'1

The awliya' were the very embodiment of popular concepts; but in addition, if of lesser importance, most Sufi ideas were vulgarized. Fund', for example, became a vague pantheism behind the practice of the dhikr ecstasy. It might be attained through the mediumship of the shaikh, or by loss of personality in him; at any rate, not through a lifetime of costly progress from one maqam to another, but according to an individual's susceptibility. Why bother about discipline when 'one jadhba (attraction) from God is equal to all the work of mankind and jinnkind.' The majdhub (enraptured one), a familiar aspect of traditional Islamic society, is regarded as having lost his personal consciousness in the divine Oneness.
1 Tabaqdt of Wad Daif Allah, ed. Mandil, p. 145; ed. Sidaiq, pp. 152-3.

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