Umar Ibn Al-Farid: Sufi Verse, Saintly Life by Umar Ibn 'Ali Ibn Al-Farid, introduction and translation by Th. Emil Homerin (Classics of Western Spirituality: Paulist Press) (Paperback)

Umar ibn Abi al‑Hasan [`Alt] ibn al‑Murshid ibn 'Alt, a descendent of the Sald tribe, Abu al‑Qasim and Abu Hafs. His father was originally from Hama, [while 'Umar] was born and resided in Egypt and known as Ibn al‑F‑arid, for his father was a women's advocate (fdrid] before the governor of Egypt. His father was among the people of religious knowledge and scholarship, and he gave his son a broad education in belles lettres [adab]. [Ibn al‑F‑arid] was of gentle nature, a sweet pool and spring, of pure Arabic in expression, refined of allusion, fluent and sublime in pronunciation and quotation. He then decided to undertake the study of Sufism, and so he became like a variegated meadow, perfumed by beauty, clad with good nature, gathering from the generosity of the self all varieties [of good things]. He lived in Mecca and then returned to his country [of Egypt] and took up residence in the Azhar congregational mosque. He heard (hadith] from Abu [Muhammad] al‑Qasim ibn 'Alt al-Asakiri and others, and he taught hadith. I heard something of that and some of his poetry.'

Ibn Musdi adds that Ibn al‑F‑arid was born in 576/1181 and died in 632/1235; several other students noted that Ibn al‑Farid had been a member of the SUP! legal school, and that his grave was in Cairo's al-Qarafah cemetery. These notices by Ibn al‑Farid's contemporaries provide only limited information about him, but they nevertheless draw attention to his three areas of scholarly interest: hadith, mysticism, and poetry. In fact, Ibn al‑Farid's recognized expertise in Arabic poetry led to his adjudicating a famous literary dispute in Cairo, while one of his odes was said to have so impressed the Ayyubid sultan al‑Malik al‑Kamil (r. 615‑35/1218‑38) that the sultan sent the poet a large sum of money and later sought his permission to erect a shrine for him. The story goes that Ibn al‑Farid refused the sultan's lavish offers, choosing to trust in God and not some earthly sovereign to meet his needs.'

One may question the validity of such stories, yet there are strong indications that Ibn al‑F‑arid may have shunned the public life of the royal court. Several noted poets of his day, including Ibn Sand, al‑Mulk (550608/1155‑1211), Ibn 'Unayn (549-630/1154-1232), Baha al‑Din

Zuhayr (581‑656/1186‑1258), and Ibn Matruh (592‑649/1196‑1251), actively pursued courtly favor by composing panegyrics and other poems on a ruler's behalf. These poets often worked in the Diwan al‑Insha' (Ministry of Information) and frequently rose to positions of power, such as vizier.' However, there is no evidence that Ibn al‑F‑arid ever composed panegyric or political verse, or held a ministerial position. On the contrary, the religious nature of his occupation as an hadith scholar is underscored by his residence at the Azhar mosque, where he also appears to have taught poetry. By this means, Ibn al‑F‑arid supported his family, which included at least three children, while avoiding the moral and aesthetic compromise expected of a court poet, along with the political intrigues of the period, as the Ayyubid princes fought among themselves and the Crusaders for the right to rule Egypt, Syria, and the Holy Lands around Jerusalem and in Arabia.'

Ibn al‑Fdrid did, however, resemble the court poets of his time in one respect, namely, their shared poetic style, commonly known as badic. By the seventh/thirteenth century, Arabic poetry had entered a period of pronounced mannerism. A primary subject of this verse was the poetic tradition itself, as poets paid homage to past masters while seeking to surpass them by means of rhetorical strategies meant to amaze and delight their audiences, and praise their patrons

 Here, the scene slowly unfolds to reveal the lover from dawn to dusk, listening to moving music as he drinks wine in memory of his beloved. Ibn al‑Fa‑rid has carefully arranged a series of nouns, their supporting participles, and several verbs within repeating and symmetrical syntactical forms to highlight the beloved's emanation throughout the world of the lover's senses, a result, no doubt, of their former union recalled in the final verse. This dense weave of a highly rhetorical poetic form together with themes of love, longing, and union is characteristic of Ibn al-Farid's poetry, as are its dramatic and introspective qualities. In this respect, Ibn al‑Farid's verse resembles closely that of the English metaphysical poets John Donne (d. 1631), George Herbert (d. 1633), and Henry Vaughan (d. 1695), with their search for illumination both in nature, and especially within the human soul:

To hasten a spiritual awakening or, as in these verses, the coming of the Holy Spirit, Vaughan, Donne, and other Christian poets of the seventeenth century practiced meditation exercises, including those of Ignatius of Loyola (d. 1556), and this clearly contributed to the devotional and mystical character of their verse as well as to its formal composition."

Similarly, as an accomplished Sufi, Ibn al‑Farid was well‑versed in the practice of dhikr ("recollection, meditation"), which he regarded as an essential tool for moral purification and spiritual ecstasy." Ibn al‑Farid's poetry, then, may be considered one of meditation, as the act of recollection beginning the poems initiates an interior drama in which the poet "projects a self upon an inner stage, and there comes to know that self in the light of a divine presence.""

At this point an obvious parallel should be drawn between Ibn al-Farid and another great poet of mystical love, the Spanish monk John of the Cross (1542‑91), whose Cantico espiritual has several stanzas built on nouns and adjectives and which convey a tone and mood similar to Ibn al‑Farid's meditation quoted above:

Ibn al‑Farid and John of the Cross stress the negative way toward union, as the lover must eradicate his selfish ways in total obedience to the beloved's will, and both poets map the via negativa to be followed by lovers aspiring to union and illumination. In his poems, John of the Cross turned to Italian verse, popular songs in Spanish and Portuguese, and, above all, to the Bible's Song of Songs for much of his love imagery, while Ibn al‑Farid drew from the Qur'an and, more often, from Classical Arabic poetry and ancient Arab love legends. The beautiful love poems composed by both men certainly encourage a mystical reading, though overt theological and mystical references are generally absent. This calls attention to the important fact that the mystical ideas of Ibn al‑Farid and John of the Cross are intimately connected to love and its poetic expression, to the extent that they should not be, indeed, cannot be separated. To speak in the age‑old tradition of wine, the poem is not a vessel into which is poured a mystical substance to be consumed and the cup discarded. Rather, mysticism is the wine and poetry the sweet water that blend together to produce an invigorating and refreshing drink different and, perhaps, superior to either alone."

Nevertheless, both poets have left us a cipher to the mystical ideas pervading their verse. John of the Cross wrote four substantial commentaries interpreting the mystical meanings and implications of his three major love poems, Cantico espirtual, Noche oscura, and Oh Llama de amor viva, while composing about a dozen other poems whose religious themes are more readily apparent." The number of authentic poems by Ibn al‑Farid is likewise modest, consisting of seven love poems (ghazal), seven odes (qasidah), a wine ode (khamriyah), and several dozen quatrains and riddles." Among his odes, however, is the al‑Ta'iyah al‑kubra (Ode in T Major), also known as the Nazm al‑sulak (Poem of the Sufi Way). This poem is unprecedented in the history of Arabic mystical verse, for while Sufis had drawn inspiration from and contributed to the larger Arabic poetic tradition for centuries, no one before Ibn al‑Farid had ever made such a grand poetic presentation of mystical thought in Arabic.

Spanning seven hundred and sixty verses, the Poem of the Sufi Way is one of the longer poems ever composed in Arabic and the most famous one rhyming in "T." Yet in contrast to other lengthy Arabic poems, such as those on grammar or law, this ode is not confined to a didactic presentation of its subject, as Ibn al‑Farid frequently employs highly lyrical language to speak of mystical love and life. Indeed, the first 163 verses of the Poem of the Sufi Way are little different from several of Ibn al‑Farid's longer love poems, but, then, the poet ends his ghazal, declaring that the time is right to examine the mystical elements composing many of his poetic themes and images. Taking the form of a guide for the perplexed, the next six hundred verses range over a number of crucial concerns confronting the seeker on the Sufi path, and, in the role of the enlightened spiritual guide, Ibn al‑F‑arid instructs his student on such mystical matters as selfless love, spiritual intoxication and enlightened sobriety, and union. But no matter the issue, Ibn al‑Farid continues to display his considerable poetic skill throughout the poem while, at the same time, drawing attention to his broad knowledge and profound understanding of Sufism.

Often referred to in Arabic as tasawwuf ("following the Sufi path"), Sufism, or Islamic mysticism, designates the study of experiences within Islam characterized by ineffability, a noetic quality, and transience, and frequently by a positive sense of passivity, timelessness, and unity. Sufism also includes the methods to attain and refine these experiences, the theories and doctrines regarding their origin and significance, and the place of these experiences within the lives of individuals and their societies. Given its spiritual concerns, Sufism clearly has much in common with other mystical traditions, but some similarities also stem, in part, from the fact that in the seventh century Islam came to light and flourished in an environment saturated with religious beliefs and practices flowing from a number of sources, including Judaism, Christianity, and Zoroastrianism, and fed by a variety of Hellenistic religious currents. Islam was undoubtedly influenced to some degree by the many ascetic and mystical practices in the region, including the wearing of a simple frock made of wool (saf), from which Sufism derives its name. Still, Islamic mysticism has always drawn its sustenance primarily from the Qur'an and the traditions of the prophet Muhammad." Though the Qur'an is justly renowned for its powerful vision of the Last Day and divine judgment, many passages reveal a God of mercy and compassion whose living presence is always around us.

Revelation of the Mystery by Al-Hujwiri, translated by Reynold A. Nicholson, new introduction by Carl W. Ernst (Pir Publications) Like Rumi, Hafiz and Attar, al-Hujwiri was one of the great saints of Sufism. Students of Sufism have revered Revelation of the Mystery, or Kashf al-mahjub for nine centuries. This classic text contains biographies of the saints, including Fudayl, the brigand who became a great spiritual teacher; Ibrahim Adham, the prince who renounced everything when he received the divine call; and al-Hallaj, the great Sufi martyr. Al-Hujwiri also offers the spiritual seeker universal and timeless advice on many subjects, such as contemplation, generosity, spiritual courtesy, prayer, love and distinguishing false spirituality and false teachers from the real, discrimination just as important today as then.
Our interest in Shaykh Hujwiri, or Data Sahib, is principally in his book on Sufism. Kashf al‑mahjub was the first comprehensive text written in Persian about Sufism, at a time when Arabic was still the dominant language for the expression of Islamic religious thought. Prior to Shaykh Hujwiri, masters such as Abu Nasr al‑Sarraj and Abu Talib al‑Makki had written famous Arabic treatises on Sufi thought and practice in terms of the standard religious sciences. But Shaykh

Hujwiri, who was also known for his Persian poetry, effectively used the elegant and courtly Persian of the Samanid style to convey his message. Kashf al‑mahjub was a model for the great Sufi biographer Farid al‑Din `Attar (d. ca. 1220) when he wrote his Memorial of the Saints. The Mughal prince Dara Shikuh wrote in the seventeenth century that none could challenge the fame and greatness of Kash f al‑mahjub, for it was written from the perspective of the perfect teacher, and it had no equal on the subject of Sufism in the Persian language. 'Ali Qawim, the editor of the edition published by the Iran‑Pakistan Center for Persian Studies in 1978, observed that this book is unparalleled in the beauty of its learned composition, in its attractive literary style, and in its avoidance of unpleasant and jarring expressions. It is worth mentioning that the superb library of the IranPakistan Center for Persian Studies in Islamabad, which contains over 15,000 Persian manuscripts, was named the Ganj Bakhsh Library in honor of Shaykh Hujwiri.

Written at the request of a fellow Sufi from his hometown of Hujwir, Kashf al‑mahjub is not simply a literary production. It is, as well, an exposition of practical Sufism that summarizes a wide tradition of centuries of reflection and is still one of the best descriptions of the Sufi path. It has been said that those who seek a guide in Sufism should do three things: pray for guidance, visit the tombs of the great shaykhs, and read Kashf al‑mahjub. Shaykh Hujwiri traveled widely and met most of the leading Sufis of his day. Accounts of his personal experiences in Iran, Central Asia, and the Middle East enliven his learned discussion of mysticism. He drew upon writings of well-known Sufis such as Sarraj, Qushayri, and Ansari, and he also had access to many early Sufi writings that no longer exist.

Fully one‑third of the book is biographical, tracing the practice of Sufism from the companions of the Prophet Muhammad through subsequent generations to the time of Data Sahib himself. His unusual description of the different schools of thought in early Sufism (in Chapter XIV) is a way of discussing the meditative specialties of leading Sufis. The fact that he uses the theological terminology of handbooks on Islamic sects could give the misleading impression that the early Sufi schools were "sects" in some exclusive doctrinal sense, but that would be an overly rationalistic reading of early Sufism. Readers should also be aware that Shaykh Hujwiri was writing at a time before the emergence of the Sufi orders, and so his description of Sufi teaching reflects the less formal situation that prevailed before Sufism became established as a major public force in Muslim societies.

The last and perhaps most interesting part of the book consists of eleven "unveilings" of Sufi practice. The first ten deal with knowledge of God, the divine unity, faith, purity, prayer, alms, fasting, pilgrimage, the rules of Sufi society, and technical terms. The final chapter describes the principles for listening to Sufi music, the original form of the modern qawwali music performed at shrines in India and Pakistan.

Like his predecessor, Abu al‑Qasim al‑Qushayri, Shaykh Hujwiri adopted the teachings of al‑Ash'ari, who stressed a rational interpretation of Islam without approaching Greek philosophy as closely as did the Mu'tazili theologians. This background gives the arguments of Kashf al‑mahjub a systematic appearance, in some cases, perhaps overly so. Shaykh Hujwiri evidently had a particular fondness for the sayings of the controversial Sufi martyr Hallaj, about whom he wrote a book, though he regarded Hallaj's experiences as not being fully mature. Unfortunately, Shaykh Hujwiri's other writings that are mentioned in Kashf al‑mahjub have not survived the centuries.

Shaykh Hujwiri appears to have been a kind but irascible person and a shrewd yet forgiving judge of character. The opening paragraphs of Kashf al‑mahjub show him testily explaining why he has put his name there so prominently. He had made the mistake with two of his previous books of lending the original manuscripts to unscrupulous people, who then erased his name and claimed the books as their own work! Shaykh Hujwiri has also captured effectively the hypocrisy of some official representatives of Sufism, as in his description of the wealthy Sufis in Khurasan, who threw him rotten melon rinds while they feasted on the best. And he had his difficult moments too. His master, Abu al‑Fazl al‑Khatli (Nicholson spells the name as Khuttali), was a serious and learned recluse whom Shaykh Hujwiri described as the most awe‑inspiring man he had ever met, and it was alKhatli who ordered Shaykh Hujwiri to move from Ghazni to Lahore. Hujwiri arrived just in time to attend the funeral of a fellow disciple and take his place as the resident Sufi of Lahore, but he seems to have come so hastily that he left his beloved library behind. He is said to have written, "My books are all left in Ghazni, and now I am trapped in Lahore with unkind people!" The shock of the move must have worn off quickly, though, for Shaykh Hujwiri became the most beloved Sufi of Lahore, and thousands who remember him today revere him as the giver who bestows treasure

ISLAMIC MYSTICISM: A Short History by Alexander D. Knysh ($66.00, Hardcover, Brill Academic Publishers; ISBN: 9004107177)

The book provides a general survey of the history of Islamic mysticism (Sufism) since its inception up to modern times. It combines chronological and personality-based approaches to the subject with a thematic discussion of principal Sufi notions and institutions. As a general introduction the volume obviously serves a need. Sufism is examined from a variety of different perspectives: as a vibrant social institution, a specific form of artistic expression (mainly poetic), an ascetic and contemplative practice, and a distinctive intellectual tradition that derived its vitality from a dialogue with other strands of Islamic thought.

The book emphasizes the wide variety of Sufism's interactions with the society and its institutions from an ascetic withdrawal from the world to an active involvement in its affairs by individual sufi masters and organizations. I

SLAMIC MYSTICISM by Knysh is a comprehensive survey of the interesting and fascinating world of Islamic mysticism written for scholars and students interested in Islamic Mysticism, Islamic Studies, Religious Studies and the History of Religions. The work will have to most appeal to students attempting to get a general scholarly grasp on this field as an academic field of inquiry.

Alexander Knysh Ph.D. (1986) in Islamic Studies, Institute of Oriental Studies, Soviet Academy of Sciences, is currently Professor and Chair of the Department of Near Eastern Studies at the University of Michigan.

I suggest that we limit the application of the term "freethinkers" in early Islam to those Muslim intellectuals who, in opposition to other heretics, did not adhere to any scriptural religion. Although the position of these thinkers within Muslim society was very different from that of the philosophers in the ancient city, one might get some insight by comparing them to those Greek thinkers accused of atheism in the ancient world, because they denied any truth value to the cultic religion of the polis and proposed alternative systems of religious belief. The animosity of the freethinkers of Islam sometimes turned especially against the religion into which they were born, but in principle they displayed the same aversion to all revealed religions. One cannot really consider them to have been "Muslim heretics," since they did not offer a new, heretical, interpretation of Islam." Rather, it was the very message of Islam, its very foundations The Qur'an and the Prophet‑which they rejected.

The term "freethinking," in the narrow sense of the rejection of revelation, focuses on a common trait in the thought of intellectuals whose beliefs may otherwise differ considerably. It is argued that the paramount importance of this trait justifies a study that will combine them together, despite their differences.

In modern scholarship these intellectuals are sometimes referred to as "atheists." This, however, is certainly incorrect, since their criticism of religion never included the negation of God's existence.' What they did deny was the scriptural religions' idea of God, His epithets, and His interference in the world through revelation. Another phenomenon in modern European thought, deism, seems at first sight to offer a better parallel to the Islamic freethinkers. Christian theologians perceived the deists rejection of the authority of the church and of the scriptures as a radical religious rebellion, despite the deists' belief in God. Thus Pierre Viret, a sixteenth‑century Calvinist, admitted that the deists retained some kind of belief in God, "like the Turks and the Jews," but he accused them of regarding the doctrines of the Evangelists and the Apostles as "fables and reveries."" In modern scholarship we often see a conflation of the two terms, "deism" and "freethinking." R. L. Emerson, for instance, began the bibliographical part of his article on deism with two eighteenth‑century German works on the Freidenker," who, he said, are still useful as guides to the background on which deism grew. The thinkers who are the subject of the present book did indeed have some traits in common with the deists; like them, they believed that natural reason was sufficient to attain truth; like them, they believed in the natural laws and science which should be the only guide to human conduct; and like them, they regarded with suspicion all established religions. But other central components of deism, and primarily the belief in the goodness of divine providence, were missing in the thought of some of the freethinkers of Islam." In the search for a term that will identify the common traits of these people, "deists" thus seems unsuitable.

For the same considerations it is also unsuitable to call them "materialists." If we understand materialism in the widest sense, as a system that which "excludes the existence of entities that are radically different in kind from, and in some sense superior to, the matter of our ordinary experience,"" then the thinkers to be discussed below were far from agreeing with each other on that score."

I have therefore opted for the term "freethinkers," which I use to denote the advocates of autonomous reflection on the major metaphysical and human issues, with no commitment to the monotheist tradition." Because of the connotation of the term in modern history, I would like to stress the obvious, namely, that the use of this term here carries absolutely no judgment of value. These freethinkers were not necessarily more rationalists than the religious ahl al‑ray. They were also not always more humanistic or more tolerant in their approach; in fact, one may sometimes detect a definite misanthropic streak in their expressions. The term "freethinking" is used here solely to denote the rejection of the authority of both revelation and of the revealed religions.

 Contents:
Preface
Introduction: Freethinking and Freethinkers in
Medieval Islam
The Boundaries of the Umma
Freethinking
The Freethinkers of Islam
The Method
The Signs of Prophecy: The Touchstone of
Muslim Prophetology
The Emergence of the Theme in Islam
Early Developments of the Signs of Prophecy
The Christian ``Negative Signs'' of the True Religion
The Polemical Exchange of Signs
Ibn al-Rawandi and his Baffling ``Book of the Emerald''
Biography
K. al-Zumurrud
The Mubahala Verse in the K. al-Zumurrud
The Heretic Ibn al-Rawandi and his Zumurrud
The Zumurrud and its Contents
Abu Bakr al-Razi: A ``Respectable'' Freethinker
Biography
The K. Mahariq al-Anbiya'
The Authenticity of Razi's Freethinking
The Religion of the Freethinkers
In Search of Atheists
Theodicy
Cult
Alternative Scriptures
Skepticism
The Pagan Legacy of the Freethinkers of Islam
The Hellenic Tradition
Barahima
Sabeans
The Impact of the Freethinkers on Islamic Philosophy
The Fortleben of the Freethinkers
The Physical Theory of the Kalam
Ibn al-Rawandi as a Dialectician
Repercussions in Islamic Philosophy
From Muslim Heresy to Inter-religious Polemics
Christian anti-Muslim Polemics: The Risala of `Abd al-Masih al-Kindi
Ibn al-Rawandi's K. al-Damigh and its
Afterlife in Ibn Hazm's Polemics
Repercussions of Islamic Freethinking Beyond
Islam
Repercussions in Christianity
Repercussions in Judaism
Muslim Heretics in Maimonides' Writings
Conclusion
Bibliographical Abbreviations
General Index
Index of Sources

ESSAYS ON ISLAMIC PIETY & MYSTICISM by Fritz Meier, translated by John O'Kane with editorial assistance of Bernd Radtke ($206.00, hardcover, Islamic History and Civilization, Vo. 30; Brill Academic Publishers; ISBN: 9004108653)

No one with a serious interest in the history of Sufism can now afford to avoid ESSAYS ON ISLAMIC PIETY & MYSTICISM, a magnificent collection of essays upon the history and nature of Sufism. Meier's studies are on par with the legendary work of Massignon with a fantastic grasp of detail and a sympathetic insight into the nature of mystical praxis.

The Swiss Scholar Fritz Meier (1912-1998) was one of the principal Islamicists of the twentieth century. His publications have been mostly in German and until this publication have suffered the fate of not being accessible to scholars unfamiliar with the language. Meier’s entire oeuvre combines expert philological method and precision of thought, a deep-felt and penetrating textual interpretation, and a extensive acquaintance with primary sources that is unusual and even astounding. Among the numerous fields in which he has initiated original research, Persian poetry and Islamic mysticism (Sufism) in the widest sense stand out in particular. His work on Sufism covers the whole of the Islamic world and Islamic history from its beginnings up to the twentieth century. Also available in English is his study of the warrior Abu Sa Id-I Abu L-Hayr.
Because his works have been written in German, whole debates on subjects concerning Sufism that have taken place in Anglo-American academic circles, which to their own loss have not taken account of Meier’s often pioneering points of view. The translation s presented here are offered to remedy this situation. The translator provides for the first time a translation of fifteen of Fritz Meier’s seminal articles. The selected articles deal with the history of Sufism; Sufi morals and practices such as dhikr and sama; the historical development of the master disciple relationship; Ibn Taymiyya’s attitude toward Sufism; pious devotional practices such as making use of the tasliya; essential sources for the history of Sufism in the Maghreb and the Almoravids.
Extensive indices will facilitate the use of this epoch making work. The translations were reviewed by the author before his death and bibliographies have in many cases have been updated.
Anyone with an interest in the golden age of Sufism will find this work a treasure throve of mystical practice and historical rigor, mixed with astute psychological insight.
The remaining comments attempt to outline the principle themes dealt with in the essays. It follows closely the introduction by the translator. Meier’s usual working method is to present a showcase of evidence from primary sources and to accompany this with extensive comparisons and nuanced elucidation. And although each essay focuses on a exact subject or traces a particular development, Meier frequently adds remarks and judgments which go additionally afield, particularly on matters to do with general themes within Sufism. This propensity makes it difficult to paraphrase his work without betraying its individual distinguishing qualities.

'The Dervish Dance: An Attempt at an Overview’: This essay has five sections and traces the relationship between dhikr and sama’.
Section 1. considers the Islamic theological concept of God’s absolute transcendence, in connection with the Sufi view that human beings can attain higher perception of God. Performing dhikr on spiritual retreat by repeating the formula constitutes recollection of God or a means of experiencing spiritual essences. But Sufis recognize the need for God’s help to advance beyond themselves.
Section 2. By way of following the Koranic injunction ‘to recollect God’ at all times’, Sufis place dhikr at the center of their communal exercises. Dhikr al-waqt or dhikr al-awqat is a group performance of dhikr after ritual prayer. This is to be distinguished from dhikr al-hadra ‘assembly-dhikr’ which only occurs from time to time and on a larger scale. Modern forms of the latter can involve intense body movements, the goal being to induce a form of dislocation of consciousness or ecstasy.
Section 3. A second kind of ecstasy, not actively induced, was conceived of as being triggered by something outside a person: by a beautiful face, a word or a line of poetry. Music could also have this effect. Examples of suddenly triggered ecstatic states are discussed. Christian parallels are considered, but a fundamental difference between the Christians and the Sufis was that the latter would assemble communally to induce such states. Some rules regarding the dance which accompanied sama are discussed, as well as anticipatory mimicking of ecstatic states (tawdjud) and the practice of casting off items of clothing in ecstasy. Differences between dhikr and sama are considered: in dhikr a person invokes his own forces, in soma` he waits; in the one he speaks, in the other he listens; dhikr is an indispensable part of the Sufi curriculum and work routine, sama is almost always a concession (rukhsa) performed in the context of entertainment and was combated by many as a malignant growth on Sufism. Both could induce ecstatic states.
Section 4. Whereas dance had originally been an expression of ecstasy, Meier describes two cases in which dance served as a form of tawajud to induce ecstasy: the Mawlawis, founded in the 13th century by Jalal al-Din Rumi, and the `Isawis of North Africa and Egypt, founded in the 16th century.
Section 5. Meier sketches a process which led to the combination of dhikr and sama`, and gives examples of particular hybrids which resulted. In closing, he describes in detail the separate segments of the combined performance of dhikr and soma` by the Dayfis which he witnessed himself in Alexandria in 1948. Other Sufi brotherhoods which regularly employed this form of combination are mentioned.: This essay has five sections and traces the relationship between dhikr and sama’.
Section 1. considers the Islamic theological concept of God’s absolute transcendence, in connection with the Sufi view that human beings can attain higher perception of God. Performing dhikr on spiritual retreat by repeating the formula constitutes recollection of God or a means of experiencing spiritual essences. But Sufis recognize the need for God’s help to advance beyond themselves.
Section 2. By way of following the Koranic injunction ‘to recollect God’ at all times’, Sufis place dhikr at the center of their communal exercises. Dhikr al-waqt or dhikr al-awqat is a group performance of dhikr after ritual prayer. This is to be distinguished from dhikr al-hadra ‘assembly-dhikr’ which only occurs from time to time and on a larger scale. Modern forms of the latter can involve intense body movements, the goal being to induce a form of dislocation of consciousness or ecstasy.
Section 3. A second kind of ecstasy, not actively induced, was conceived of as being triggered by something outside a person: by a beautiful face, a word or a line of poetry. Music could also have this effect. Examples of suddenly triggered ecstatic states are discussed. Christian parallels are considered, but a fundamental difference between the Christians and the Sufis was that the latter would assemble communally to induce such states. Some rules regarding the dance which accompanied sama are discussed, as well as anticipatory mimicking of ecstatic states (tawdjud) and the practice of casting off items of clothing in ecstasy. Differences between dhikr and sama are considered: in dhikr a person invokes his own forces, in soma` he waits; in the one he speaks, in the other he listens; dhikr is an indispensable part of the Sufi curriculum and work routine, sama is almost always a concession (rukhsa) performed in the context of entertainment and was combated by many as a malignant growth on Sufism. Both could induce ecstatic states.
Section 4. Whereas dance had originally been an expression of ecstasy, Meier describes two cases in which dance served as a form of tawajud to induce ecstasy: the Mawlawis, founded in the 13th century by Jalal al-Din Rumi, and the `Isawis of North Africa and Egypt, founded in the 16th century.
Section 5. Meier sketches a process which led to the combination of dhikr and sama`, and gives examples of particular hybrids which resulted. In closing, he describes in detail the separate segments of the combined performance of dhikr and soma` by the Dayfis which he witnessed himself in Alexandria in 1948. Other Sufi brotherhoods which regularly employed this form of combination are mentioned.: This essay has five sections and traces the relationship between dhikr and sama’.
Section 1. considers the Islamic theological concept of God’s absolute transcendence, in connection with the Sufi view that human beings can attain higher perception of God. Performing dhikr on spiritual retreat by repeating the formula constitutes recollection of God or a means of experiencing spiritual essences. But Sufis recognize the need for God’s help to advance beyond themselves.
Section 2. By way of following the Koranic injunction ‘to recollect God’ at all times’, Sufis place dhikr at the center of their communal exercises. Dhikr al-waqt or dhikr al-awqat is a group performance of dhikr after ritual prayer. This is to be distinguished from dhikr al-hadra ‘assembly-dhikr’ which only occurs from time to time and on a larger scale. Modern forms of the latter can involve intense body movements, the goal being to induce a form of dislocation of consciousness or ecstasy.
Section 3. A second kind of ecstasy, not actively induced, was conceived of as being triggered by something outside a person: by a beautiful face, a word or a line of poetry. Music could also have this effect. Examples of suddenly triggered ecstatic states are discussed. Christian parallels are considered, but a fundamental difference between the Christians and the Sufis was that the latter would assemble communally to induce such states. Some rules regarding the dance which accompanied sama are discussed, as well as anticipatory mimicking of ecstatic states (tawdjud) and the practice of casting off items of clothing in ecstasy. Differences between dhikr and sama are considered: in dhikr a person invokes his own forces, in soma` he waits; in the one he speaks, in the other he listens; dhikr is an indispensable part of the Sufi curriculum and work routine, sama is almost always a concession (rukhsa) performed in the context of entertainment and was combated by many as a malignant growth on Sufism. Both could induce ecstatic states.
Section 4. Whereas dance had originally been an expression of ecstasy, Meier describes two cases in which dance served as a form of tawajud to induce ecstasy: the Mawlawis, founded in the 13th century by Jalal al-Din Rumi, and the `Isawis of North Africa and Egypt, founded in the 16th century.
Section 5. Meier sketches a process which led to the combination of dhikr and sama`, and gives examples of particular hybrids which resulted. In closing, he describes in detail the separate segments of the combined performance of dhikr and soma` by the Dayfis which he witnessed himself in Alexandria in 1948. Other Sufi brotherhoods which regularly employed this form of combination are mentioned.

'A Book of Etiquette for Sufis’: The main section of this essay presents a close paraphrase of the contents of the Adab al-muridin a small handbook for Sufis about correct behavior, written in Persian sometime after 1184 by Najm al-Din Kubra In his sizable introduction, however, Meier first reviews the bewildering plethora of meanings which had developed around the word adab. In the context of Sufism the term signifies the specific customs, practices and correct mode of behavior of a Sufi. In much the came way that regulae, constitutions and consuetudines eventually dominated life within the Christian monastic orders, the whole of Sufism came to be conceived of as regulated by adab Meier considers the stages of this development and previous Sufi works which dealt with the subject of adab.
Kubra’s book is divided into seven chapters: 1. On Wearing the Patched Frock (khirqa), 2. On Sitting and Rising, 3. On Littering a Convent, 4. On Eating, 5. How One Behaves When Invited for Dinner, 6. On Listening to Music sama shinidan, 7. On Correct Behavior adab When Traveling. Meier provides extensive notes with meticulous explanations and comparisons.

'Qushayri’s Tartib alsuluk’: Meier refers to Ibn`Abbad al-Rundi’s observation in the 14th century that a shift from the shaykh al-ta’lim `the lecture-giving shaykh’ to the shaykh al-tarbiya `the shaykh in charge of training’ took place sometime between the end of the 10th and the beginning of the 11th century. Qushayri belongs to the period when this shift had set in and a shaykh demands absolute obedience from the novice and initiates him by `implanting’ the formula for recollecting God (dhikr). Dhikr is one of the most important means a mystic possesses for eliminating decisions of the `self and drawing closer to God. Associated with spiritual training in the new era is discussion of the occult phenomena which a novice experiences when performing dhikr in spiritual retreat.
Qushayri’s work ‘The Gradation of Travailing on the Path to God’ is a short monograph which provides our earliest evidence of a Sufi shaykh’s explanations to do with the rules and effects of dhikr, as well as the pitfalls the novice must seek to avoid. Particular postures or techniques to be adopted in performing dhikr are not mentioned. Meier discusses some contradictions in the work, as well as problems concerning its authorship and manner of composition, and concludes that the text may have been compiled by a student on the basis of Qushayri’s oral teachings.
Meier then paraphrases the contents of the work, which he has divided into 9 sections, and comments on its salient features. Recollection of God moves from the tongue to the heart and then into the solace 'secret’ .The student must forget all things, including himself and his recollection of God. Above all, the psychic phenomena he experiences must not distract him. He sees himself grow and expand, he suffers convulsions, he hears strange voices and experiences an extraordinary sweet taste. He believes he can hear ants when they walk. He yearns to be able to sleep.
The mystic’s relation to his `secret’ is described. He must avoid falling into the state of jam`. Al-jam` `the union of union’ that is a sort of egoistic identification with the Divine that overwhelmed Hallaj and Bistami. The devil has strategies for intervening. Mystic states, like a bird, only descend on a human being who remains motionless like a dead person. Qushayri concludes with some examples of his own psychic difficulties and how he overcame them with the help of a friend. When his recollection of God finally moved into his `secret’, the experience was so intense he was reduced to skin and bones in the course of one day. After a detailed paraphrase and commentary Meier provides an edition of the Arabic text, followed by a translation.
‘An Important Manuscript Find for Sufism’: Here Meier describes and analyzes the contents of an Arabic collective manuscript, no. 87 belonging to the Khanaqahi Armadi in Shiraz. It was first briefly described by Iraji Afshar in 1965. Eight of the thirteen texts contained in the MS are unique. These include important verses by Hallaj not found in Massignon’s Diwan al-Hallaj and five new works by Abu Mansur Ma`mar al-Isfahani, a contemporary and fellow townsman of Abu Nu`aym al-Isfahani, about whom relatively little was otherwise known.
The most significant text of the collective MS is an anonymous work entitled Adab al-muluk which has since been edited by Bernd Radtke and translated into German by Richard Gramlich. This is a compact but comprehensive handbook of Sufism from the 10th or 11th century, offering a parallel with Kalabddhi’s Ta`arruf and Sarraj’s Luma`. Meier discusses the book’s value for the study of Sufism, its contents and possible authorship.
Then there is a short collection of Sufi maxims, poems and stories, attributed to Sulami. This is followed by ninety-four sayings by or about Shafi'i with relevance for Sufism, which Sulami collected. Meier translates this text and considers other collections of Shafii’s sayings and his ambiguous attitude toward Sufism. In Shafi'i’s day Sufism was still at an early stage of development (prior to so-called classical Sufism). Expanding on his comments on Shafi'i, Meier proceeds to give a sweeping interpretive overview of Sufism’s subsequent development which concludes with special emphasis on the value of Sulami as a source and an appeal for a critical edition of Salami’s Koran commentary.: Meier refers to Ibn`Abbad al-Rundi’s observation in the 14th century that a shift from the shaykh al-ta’lim `the lecture-giving shaykh’ to the shaykh al-tarbiya `the shaykh in charge of training’ took place sometime between the end of the 10th and the beginning of the 11th century. Qushayri belongs to the period when this shift had set in and a shaykh demands absolute obedience from the novice and initiates him by `implanting’ the formula for recollecting God (dhikr). Dhikr is one of the most important means a mystic possesses for eliminating decisions of the `self and drawing closer to God. Associated with spiritual training in the new era is discussion of the occult phenomena which a novice experiences when performing dhikr in spiritual retreat.
Qushayri’s work ‘The Gradation of Travailing on the Path to God’ is a short monograph which provides our earliest evidence of a Sufi shaykh’s explanations to do with the rules and effects of dhikr, as well as the pitfalls the novice must seek to avoid. Particular postures or techniques to be adopted in performing dhikr are not mentioned. Meier discusses some contradictions in the work, as well as problems concerning its authorship and manner of composition, and concludes that the text may have been compiled by a student on the basis of Qushayri’s oral teachings.
Meier then paraphrases the contents of the work, which he has divided into 9 sections, and comments on its salient features. Recollection of God moves from the tongue to the heart and then into the solace 'secret’ .The student must forget all things, including himself and his recollection of God. Above all, the psychic phenomena he experiences must not distract him. He sees himself grow and expand, he suffers convulsions, he hears strange voices and experiences an extraordinary sweet taste. He believes he can hear ants when they walk. He yearns to be able to sleep.
The mystic’s relation to his `secret’ is described. He must avoid falling into the state of jam`. Al-jam` `the union of union’ that is a sort of egoistic identification with the Divine that overwhelmed Hallaj and Bistami. The devil has strategies for intervening. Mystic states, like a bird, only descend on a human being who remains motionless like a dead person. Qushayri concludes with some examples of his own psychic difficulties and how he overcame them with the help of a friend. When his recollection of God finally moved into his `secret’, the experience was so intense he was reduced to skin and bones in the course of one day. After a detailed paraphrase and commentary Meier provides an edition of the Arabic text, followed by a translation.
‘An Important Manuscript Find for Sufism’: Here Meier describes and analyzes the contents of an Arabic collective manuscript, no. 87 belonging to the Khanaqahi Armadi in Shiraz. It was first briefly described by Iraji Afshar in 1965. Eight of the thirteen texts contained in the MS are unique. These include important verses by Hallaj not found in Massignon’s Diwan al-Hallaj and five new works by Abu Mansur Ma`mar al-Isfahani, a contemporary and fellow townsman of Abu Nu`aym al-Isfahani, about whom relatively little was otherwise known.
The most significant text of the collective MS is an anonymous work entitled Adab al-muluk which has since been edited by Bernd Radtke and translated into German by Richard Gramlich. This is a compact but comprehensive handbook of Sufism from the 10th or 11th century, offering a parallel with Kalabddhi’s Ta`arruf and Sarraj’s Luma`. Meier discusses the book’s value for the study of Sufism, its contents and possible authorship.
Then there is a short collection of Sufi maxims, poems and stories, attributed to Sulami. This is followed by ninety-four sayings by or about Shafi'i with relevance for Sufism, which Sulami collected. Meier translates this text and considers other collections of Shafii’s sayings and his ambiguous attitude toward Sufism. In Shafi'i’s day Sufism was still at an early stage of development (prior to so-called classical Sufism). Expanding on his comments on Shafi'i, Meier proceeds to give a sweeping interpretive overview of Sufism’s subsequent development which concludes with special emphasis on the value of Sulami as a source and an appeal for a critical edition of Salami’s Koran commentary.: Meier refers to Ibn`Abbad al-Rundi’s observation in the 14th century that a shift from the shaykh al-ta’lim `the lecture-giving shaykh’ to the shaykh al-tarbiya `the shaykh in charge of training’ took place sometime between the end of the 10th and the beginning of the 11th century. Qushayri belongs to the period when this shift had set in and a shaykh demands absolute obedience from the novice and initiates him by `implanting’ the formula for recollecting God (dhikr). Dhikr is one of the most important means a mystic possesses for eliminating decisions of the `self and drawing closer to God. Associated with spiritual training in the new era is discussion of the occult phenomena which a novice experiences when performing dhikr in spiritual retreat.
Qushayri’s work ‘The Gradation of Travailing on the Path to God’ is a short monograph which provides our earliest evidence of a Sufi shaykh’s explanations to do with the rules and effects of dhikr, as well as the pitfalls the novice must seek to avoid. Particular postures or techniques to be adopted in performing dhikr are not mentioned. Meier discusses some contradictions in the work, as well as problems concerning its authorship and manner of composition, and concludes that the text may have been compiled by a student on the basis of Qushayri’s oral teachings.
Meier then paraphrases the contents of the work, which he has divided into 9 sections, and comments on its salient features. Recollection of God moves from the tongue to the heart and then into the solace 'secret’ .The student must forget all things, including himself and his recollection of God. Above all, the psychic phenomena he experiences must not distract him. He sees himself grow and expand, he suffers convulsions, he hears strange voices and experiences an extraordinary sweet taste. He believes he can hear ants when they walk. He yearns to be able to sleep.
The mystic’s relation to his `secret’ is described. He must avoid falling into the state of jam`. Al-jam` `the union of union’ that is a sort of egoistic identification with the Divine that overwhelmed Hallaj and Bistami. The devil has strategies for intervening. Mystic states, like a bird, only descend on a human being who remains motionless like a dead person. Qushayri concludes with some examples of his own psychic difficulties and how he overcame them with the help of a friend. When his recollection of God finally moved into his `secret’, the experience was so intense he was reduced to skin and bones in the course of one day. After a detailed paraphrase and commentary Meier provides an edition of the Arabic text, followed by a translation.
‘An Important Manuscript Find for Sufism’: Here Meier describes and analyzes the contents of an Arabic collective manuscript, no. 87 belonging to the Khanaqahi Armadi in Shiraz. It was first briefly described by Iraji Afshar in 1965. Eight of the thirteen texts contained in the MS are unique. These include important verses by Hallaj not found in Massignon’s Diwan al-Hallaj and five new works by Abu Mansur Ma`mar al-Isfahani, a contemporary and fellow townsman of Abu Nu`aym al-Isfahani, about whom relatively little was otherwise known.
The most significant text of the collective MS is an anonymous work entitled Adab al-muluk which has since been edited by Bernd Radtke and translated into German by Richard Gramlich. This is a compact but comprehensive handbook of Sufism from the 10th or 11th century, offering a parallel with Kalabddhi’s Ta`arruf and Sarraj’s Luma`. Meier discusses the book’s value for the study of Sufism, its contents and possible authorship.
Then there is a short collection of Sufi maxims, poems and stories, attributed to Sulami. This is followed by ninety-four sayings by or about Shafi'i with relevance for Sufism, which Sulami collected. Meier translates this text and considers other collections of Shafii’s sayings and his ambiguous attitude toward Sufism. In Shafi'i’s day Sufism was still at an early stage of development (prior to so-called classical Sufism). Expanding on his comments on Shafi'i, Meier proceeds to give a sweeping interpretive overview of Sufism’s subsequent development which concludes with special emphasis on the value of Sulami as a source and an appeal for a critical edition of Salami’s Koran commentary.

‘Khurasan and the End of Classical Sufism’: Meier begins by specifying some important features of Sufism which have changed over the centuries. He then sets out to investigate the transformation of the shaykh al-ta’lim ‘the lecture-giving shaykh’ into the shaykh al-tarbiva, the Sufi master who becomes closely involved in training a disciple to be a spiritual adept. Meier notes that it was Ibn `Abbad al-Rundi (d. 1390) who first pointed out this transformation and located its occurrence in the 1 11th century. A comparison of an early Sufi textbook like Sarraj’s Luma` with the ‘Awarif alma`drif of Abu Hafs `Umar a-Suhrawardi (d. 1234) clearly reveals that a shift in this direction did take place.
Firstly, evidence from the 9th and 10th centuries regarding the shaykh al-ta’lim is reviewed. Although training is already attested in the 10th century in Sarraj’s Luma`, as well as in the Asrdr al-Tawhid (the life of shaykh Abu Said b. Abi’1Khayr; 967-1049), by the 11th century it had acquired a new status. Aspects of training were by then dealt with in theoretical discussions and regulations in Sufi systems. The gap in status between the shaykh and the novice widened. The pact between the shaykh and the novice imposed absolute obedience on the latter, and the novitiate became an initiation, not into a Sufi order orders only developed later but into a particular silsila or `spiritual family tree’ .Sufi shaykhs claimed to be the heirs to the Prophet. Further concepts which played a role in augmenting the authority of the shaykh are considered.
Thanks to surviving evidence, we are in a position to observe the transformation of the Sufi shaykh in Nayshabar from the 9th to the 11th century. Meier proceeds to give a detailed analysis of the shift in attitude towards tarbiya among the following series of important Nayshaburi shaykhs, Abu Hafs al-Haddad a-Nayshabari (d. circa 880), Abu `Uthman a-Hiri (d. 910), Abu ‘Ali a-Thaqafi (d. 940), Abu Sahl a-Su`laki (d. 980), Sulami (d. 1021), and finally Abu ‘Ali al-Daqqaq (d. 1015) and Qushayri (d. 1072).
Developments in Nayshabur reflect a more widespread trend, though Nayshabur played a leading role in shaping that trend. The influential writings of Sulami and Qushayri guaranteed the future authority of the Nayshaburi model. Our limited knowledge of the Malamatiyya movement and the ahl al-futuwwa is also discussed in relation to Sufism. Qushayri is the pivotal figure in the transition from classical Sufism with the predominate of the shaykh al-ta’lim to the post-classical period and the shaykh al-tarbiya. Meier closes with some remarks on the general significance of this change and the later dissemination of ideas about the shaykh al-tarbiya.: Meier begins by specifying some important features of Sufism which have changed over the centuries. He then sets out to investigate the transformation of the shaykh al-ta’lim ‘the lecture-giving shaykh’ into the shaykh al-tarbiva, the Sufi master who becomes closely involved in training a disciple to be a spiritual adept. Meier notes that it was Ibn `Abbad al-Rundi (d. 1390) who first pointed out this transformation and located its occurrence in the 1 11th century. A comparison of an early Sufi textbook like Sarraj’s Luma` with the ‘Awarif alma`drif of Abu Hafs `Umar a-Suhrawardi (d. 1234) clearly reveals that a shift in this direction did take place.
Firstly, evidence from the 9th and 10th centuries regarding the shaykh al-ta’lim is reviewed. Although training is already attested in the 10th century in Sarraj’s Luma`, as well as in the Asrdr al-Tawhid (the life of shaykh Abu Said b. Abi’1Khayr; 967-1049), by the 11th century it had acquired a new status. Aspects of training were by then dealt with in theoretical discussions and regulations in Sufi systems. The gap in status between the shaykh and the novice widened. The pact between the shaykh and the novice imposed absolute obedience on the latter, and the novitiate became an initiation, not into a Sufi order orders only developed later but into a particular silsila or `spiritual family tree’ .Sufi shaykhs claimed to be the heirs to the Prophet. Further concepts which played a role in augmenting the authority of the shaykh are considered.
Thanks to surviving evidence, we are in a position to observe the transformation of the Sufi shaykh in Nayshabar from the 9th to the 11th century. Meier proceeds to give a detailed analysis of the shift in attitude towards tarbiya among the following series of important Nayshaburi shaykhs, Abu Hafs al-Haddad a-Nayshabari (d. circa 880), Abu `Uthman a-Hiri (d. 910), Abu ‘Ali a-Thaqafi (d. 940), Abu Sahl a-Su`laki (d. 980), Sulami (d. 1021), and finally Abu ‘Ali al-Daqqaq (d. 1015) and Qushayri (d. 1072).
Developments in Nayshabur reflect a more widespread trend, though Nayshabur played a leading role in shaping that trend. The influential writings of Sulami and Qushayri guaranteed the future authority of the Nayshaburi model. Our limited knowledge of the Malamatiyya movement and the ahl al-futuwwa is also discussed in relation to Sufism. Qushayri is the pivotal figure in the transition from classical Sufism with the predominate of the shaykh al-ta’lim to the post-classical period and the shaykh al-tarbiya. Meier closes with some remarks on the general significance of this change and the later dissemination of ideas about the shaykh al-tarbiya.: Meier begins by specifying some important features of Sufism which have changed over the centuries. He then sets out to investigate the transformation of the shaykh al-ta’lim ‘the lecture-giving shaykh’ into the shaykh al-tarbiva, the Sufi master who becomes closely involved in training a disciple to be a spiritual adept. Meier notes that it was Ibn `Abbad al-Rundi (d. 1390) who first pointed out this transformation and located its occurrence in the 1 11th century. A comparison of an early Sufi textbook like Sarraj’s Luma` with the ‘Awarif alma`drif of Abu Hafs `Umar a-Suhrawardi (d. 1234) clearly reveals that a shift in this direction did take place.
Firstly, evidence from the 9th and 10th centuries regarding the shaykh al-ta’lim is reviewed. Although training is already attested in the 10th century in Sarraj’s Luma`, as well as in the Asrdr al-Tawhid (the life of shaykh Abu Said b. Abi’1Khayr; 967-1049), by the 11th century it had acquired a new status. Aspects of training were by then dealt with in theoretical discussions and regulations in Sufi systems. The gap in status between the shaykh and the novice widened. The pact between the shaykh and the novice imposed absolute obedience on the latter, and the novitiate became an initiation, not into a Sufi order orders only developed later but into a particular silsila or `spiritual family tree’ .Sufi shaykhs claimed to be the heirs to the Prophet. Further concepts which played a role in augmenting the authority of the shaykh are considered.
Thanks to surviving evidence, we are in a position to observe the transformation of the Sufi shaykh in Nayshabar from the 9th to the 11th century. Meier proceeds to give a detailed analysis of the shift in attitude towards tarbiya among the following series of important Nayshaburi shaykhs, Abu Hafs al-Haddad a-Nayshabari (d. circa 880), Abu `Uthman a-Hiri (d. 910), Abu ‘Ali a-Thaqafi (d. 940), Abu Sahl a-Su`laki (d. 980), Sulami (d. 1021), and finally Abu ‘Ali al-Daqqaq (d. 1015) and Qushayri (d. 1072).
Developments in Nayshabur reflect a more widespread trend, though Nayshabur played a leading role in shaping that trend. The influential writings of Sulami and Qushayri guaranteed the future authority of the Nayshaburi model. Our limited knowledge of the Malamatiyya movement and the ahl al-futuwwa is also discussed in relation to Sufism. Qushayri is the pivotal figure in the transition from classical Sufism with the predominate of the shaykh al-ta’lim to the post-classical period and the shaykh al-tarbiya. Meier closes with some remarks on the general significance of this change and the later dissemination of ideas about the shaykh al-tarbiya.

'A Saying of the Prophet against Mourning the Dead’: Mohammed forbade lamenting over the dead but it was difficult to suppress this deep-rooted pre-Islamic custom. There is a difference between lamenting niyaha and weeping (buka’) .Canonical hadiths express contradictory attitudes towards weeping. In this essay Meier examines the problems of interpretation which arose concerning variants of the hadith: `The dead atones for the weeping of his relatives over him.’ Many took this to mean that the dead is punished for the weeping of his relatives, but in Islam one cannot be held responsible for the sins of others.
'A'isha rejected the hadith’s authenticity. Ibn Qutayba’s explanation in its defense is described. Or does the hadith only refer to someone who has ordered lamentation on his own behalf? But in our context the verb yu`ad-hdhibu (`atones for’ or ‘is punished for’) can also mean `is tormented by’ or ‘suffers because of his relatives’ weeping. Mohammed b. Jarir al-Tabari (d. 923) understood the hadith this way, i.e. ‘adab is taken to mean `pain’ rather than `punishment’.
A Zoroastrian myth maintains that the deceased must cross over a river and that this may be made difficult by the tears of the living which cause the river to swell. Meier translates pertinent sections from two Neo-Persian versifications of the Zoroastrian Arda-Wiraz-namag: one by Zartushti Bahraini Pazhdu in the 13th century, the other being an anonymous version written in 1532. He then considers evidence on prohibiting lamentation from Mandaean and Coptic sources. The question is raised as to whether the idea of the dead being tormented by weeping was adopted in Islam from the Iranians, as with the case of the Chinwat-Bridge.
In conclusion Meier reviews an array of beliefs about the effect of tears on the dead from other peoples around the world. His examples are taken from such wide-ranging contexts as Greco-Roman antiquity, German folklore, Sanskrit literature and Eskimo myths.: Mohammed forbade lamenting over the dead but it was difficult to suppress this deep-rooted pre-Islamic custom. There is a difference between lamenting niyaha and weeping (buka’) .Canonical hadiths express contradictory attitudes towards weeping. In this essay Meier examines the problems of interpretation which arose concerning variants of the hadith: `The dead atones for the weeping of his relatives over him.’ Many took this to mean that the dead is punished for the weeping of his relatives, but in Islam one cannot be held responsible for the sins of others.
'A'isha rejected the hadith’s authenticity. Ibn Qutayba’s explanation in its defense is described. Or does the hadith only refer to someone who has ordered lamentation on his own behalf? But in our context the verb yu`ad-hdhibu (`atones for’ or ‘is punished for’) can also mean `is tormented by’ or ‘suffers because of his relatives’ weeping. Mohammed b. Jarir al-Tabari (d. 923) understood the hadith this way, i.e. ‘adab is taken to mean `pain’ rather than `punishment’.
A Zoroastrian myth maintains that the deceased must cross over a river and that this may be made difficult by the tears of the living which cause the river to swell. Meier translates pertinent sections from two Neo-Persian versifications of the Zoroastrian Arda-Wiraz-namag: one by Zartushti Bahraini Pazhdu in the 13th century, the other being an anonymous version written in 1532. He then considers evidence on prohibiting lamentation from Mandaean and Coptic sources. The question is raised as to whether the idea of the dead being tormented by weeping was adopted in Islam from the Iranians, as with the case of the Chinwat-Bridge.
In conclusion Meier reviews an array of beliefs about the effect of tears on the dead from other peoples around the world. His examples are taken from such wide-ranging contexts as Greco-Roman antiquity, German folklore, Sanskrit literature and Eskimo myths.: Mohammed forbade lamenting over the dead but it was difficult to suppress this deep-rooted pre-Islamic custom. There is a difference between lamenting niyaha and weeping (buka’) .Canonical hadiths express contradictory attitudes towards weeping. In this essay Meier examines the problems of interpretation which arose concerning variants of the hadith: `The dead atones for the weeping of his relatives over him.’ Many took this to mean that the dead is punished for the weeping of his relatives, but in Islam one cannot be held responsible for the sins of others.
'A'isha rejected the hadith’s authenticity. Ibn Qutayba’s explanation in its defense is described. Or does the hadith only refer to someone who has ordered lamentation on his own behalf? But in our context the verb yu`ad-hdhibu (`atones for’ or ‘is punished for’) can also mean `is tormented by’ or ‘suffers because of his relatives’ weeping. Mohammed b. Jarir al-Tabari (d. 923) understood the hadith this way, i.e. ‘adab is taken to mean `pain’ rather than `punishment’.
A Zoroastrian myth maintains that the deceased must cross over a river and that this may be made difficult by the tears of the living which cause the river to swell. Meier translates pertinent sections from two Neo-Persian versifications of the Zoroastrian Arda-Wiraz-namag: one by Zartushti Bahraini Pazhdu in the 13th century, the other being an anonymous version written in 1532. He then considers evidence on prohibiting lamentation from Mandaean and Coptic sources. The question is raised as to whether the idea of the dead being tormented by weeping was adopted in Islam from the Iranians, as with the case of the Chinwat-Bridge.
In conclusion Meier reviews an array of beliefs about the effect of tears on the dead from other peoples around the world. His examples are taken from such wide-ranging contexts as Greco-Roman antiquity, German folklore, Sanskrit literature and Eskimo myths.

'An Exchange of Letters between Sharaf al-Din Balkhi and Majd al-Din Baghdadi’; Whereas nothing is known about Balkhi, shaykh Majd al-Din Baghdadi (d. 1219) was a disciple of Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 1221). Meier notes that only in Sufism’s pos-tclassical period, i.e. after Qushayri (d. 1072), did letters form part of a novice’s training by providing interpretations of dreams and visions. The latter had come to be taken seriously as a source for understanding the novice’s inner state. For instance, the Managibi Awhad al-Din Kirmani (d. 1238) portrays the master every morning discussing the nocturnal experiences of the novice. Kubra attached great importance to visionary experience. Meier refers to Kubra’s advice by letter to Sayf al-Din Bakharzi (d. 1260 or 1261), as well as the letters between 'Ala’ al-Dawlai Simnani and his teacher Nur al-Din Kasirqi (d. 1317).
Meier proceeds to give a close paraphrase of Balkhi’s letter to Baghdad!. The visions Balkhi has had involve demon spirits (jinn) who pose a dilemma concerning saying `There is no god but God’ while one’s ego still remains. Balkhi witnesses terrifying animals and a huge snake burst forth from a smoking well shaft. Later he perceives beautiful forms and sounds, and a state of rapture comes over him. Many details of what he sees suggest allegorical meanings. In a final vision an old wise man appears who gives spiritual advice to Baghdadi as well as Balkhi.
Meier next paraphrases Baghdadi’s reply. Here all the main features of Balkhi’s visions are meticulously interpreted and accompanied by spiritual advice. For instance, the old man of the final vision is identified as probably being the demon shaykh `Abd al-Rahman who was a close disciple of the Prophet. The well shaft represents the heart, the connecting tract between the material and the supernatural world. While the senses prevail, the heart is filled with reprehensible qualities. These are the animals Balkhi saw, etc. And Baghdadi comments on the correct way to perform the all-important Sufi practice of dhikr, which involves reciting the formula `There is no god but God’ .In closing Baghdadi recommends attaching oneself to human teachers instead of demons, since demons have no experience of the barriers separating man from God.
Meier follows these paraphrases with his own interesting comments on all the points dealt with in the letters, e.g. earlier views about the dilemma associated with the tahlil, numerous other occasions when demons have taught human beings, and the theme of a person being absent from the recollection of God while recollecting God. Finally, Meier provides an edition of the Persian text.; Whereas nothing is known about Balkhi, shaykh Majd al-Din Baghdadi (d. 1219) was a disciple of Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 1221). Meier notes that only in Sufism’s pos-tclassical period, i.e. after Qushayri (d. 1072), did letters form part of a novice’s training by providing interpretations of dreams and visions. The latter had come to be taken seriously as a source for understanding the novice’s inner state. For instance, the Managibi Awhad al-Din Kirmani (d. 1238) portrays the master every morning discussing the nocturnal experiences of the novice. Kubra attached great importance to visionary experience. Meier refers to Kubra’s advice by letter to Sayf al-Din Bakharzi (d. 1260 or 1261), as well as the letters between 'Ala’ al-Dawlai Simnani and his teacher Nur al-Din Kasirqi (d. 1317).
Meier proceeds to give a close paraphrase of Balkhi’s letter to Baghdad!. The visions Balkhi has had involve demon spirits (jinn) who pose a dilemma concerning saying `There is no god but God’ while one’s ego still remains. Balkhi witnesses terrifying animals and a huge snake burst forth from a smoking well shaft. Later he perceives beautiful forms and sounds, and a state of rapture comes over him. Many details of what he sees suggest allegorical meanings. In a final vision an old wise man appears who gives spiritual advice to Baghdadi as well as Balkhi.
Meier next paraphrases Baghdadi’s reply. Here all the main features of Balkhi’s visions are meticulously interpreted and accompanied by spiritual advice. For instance, the old man of the final vision is identified as probably being the demon shaykh `Abd al-Rahman who was a close disciple of the Prophet. The well shaft represents the heart, the connecting tract between the material and the supernatural world. While the senses prevail, the heart is filled with reprehensible qualities. These are the animals Balkhi saw, etc. And Baghdadi comments on the correct way to perform the all-important Sufi practice of dhikr, which involves reciting the formula `There is no god but God’ .In closing Baghdadi recommends attaching oneself to human teachers instead of demons, since demons have no experience of the barriers separating man from God.
Meier follows these paraphrases with his own interesting comments on all the points dealt with in the letters, e.g. earlier views about the dilemma associated with the tahlil, numerous other occasions when demons have taught human beings, and the theme of a person being absent from the recollection of God while recollecting God. Finally, Meier provides an edition of the Persian text.; Whereas nothing is known about Balkhi, shaykh Majd al-Din Baghdadi (d. 1219) was a disciple of Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 1221). Meier notes that only in Sufism’s pos-tclassical period, i.e. after Qushayri (d. 1072), did letters form part of a novice’s training by providing interpretations of dreams and visions. The latter had come to be taken seriously as a source for understanding the novice’s inner state. For instance, the Managibi Awhad al-Din Kirmani (d. 1238) portrays the master every morning discussing the nocturnal experiences of the novice. Kubra attached great importance to visionary experience. Meier refers to Kubra’s advice by letter to Sayf al-Din Bakharzi (d. 1260 or 1261), as well as the letters between 'Ala’ al-Dawlai Simnani and his teacher Nur al-Din Kasirqi (d. 1317).
Meier proceeds to give a close paraphrase of Balkhi’s letter to Baghdad!. The visions Balkhi has had involve demon spirits (jinn) who pose a dilemma concerning saying `There is no god but God’ while one’s ego still remains. Balkhi witnesses terrifying animals and a huge snake burst forth from a smoking well shaft. Later he perceives beautiful forms and sounds, and a state of rapture comes over him. Many details of what he sees suggest allegorical meanings. In a final vision an old wise man appears who gives spiritual advice to Baghdadi as well as Balkhi.
Meier next paraphrases Baghdadi’s reply. Here all the main features of Balkhi’s visions are meticulously interpreted and accompanied by spiritual advice. For instance, the old man of the final vision is identified as probably being the demon shaykh `Abd al-Rahman who was a close disciple of the Prophet. The well shaft represents the heart, the connecting tract between the material and the supernatural world. While the senses prevail, the heart is filled with reprehensible qualities. These are the animals Balkhi saw, etc. And Baghdadi comments on the correct way to perform the all-important Sufi practice of dhikr, which involves reciting the formula `There is no god but God’ .In closing Baghdadi recommends attaching oneself to human teachers instead of demons, since demons have no experience of the barriers separating man from God.
Meier follows these paraphrases with his own interesting comments on all the points dealt with in the letters, e.g. earlier views about the dilemma associated with the tahlil, numerous other occasions when demons have taught human beings, and the theme of a person being absent from the recollection of God while recollecting God. Finally, Meier provides an edition of the Persian text.

'The Sumadiyya: A Branch Order of the Qadiriyya in Damascus’: This essay is divided into three sections. In section 1. Meier examines the extant historical evidence relating to the Sumadiyya, a suborder of the Qadiriyya, which was founded in the Syrian village of Sumad but moved its headquarters to Damascus by the end of the 15th century. The Sumadi family claims descent from a direct disciple of `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166), as well as from a daughter of Jilani. Meier presents what is known from Arabic sources about the family’s role in society and politics, particularly their relations with other prominent families in Damascus and the Ottoman government. While describing the successive heads of the Sumadi family, Meier makes numerous illuminating comments about the decentralized organization and different family branches of the Qadiriyya order. By around 1800 the family begins to disintegrate, in part due to internal splits over leadership. At the end of section 1) a detailed genealogical family tree is provided.
Section 2. discusses the prominence accorded to drum playing in the Sumadiyya’s dhikr and sama’-performances .According to legend a particular drum possessed by the family had been beaten at the capture of Acre from the Crusaders. Meier considers the chronological problems raised by the legend and which capture of Acre may have been intended (1187 or 1291). Miracles associated with the famous drum are described. The legend of the drum is also discussed in terms of hagiographic strategies found in other sources. The Sumadiyya regularly beat drums at night in the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus. There were opponents and supporters of religious uses of drumming.
Section 3. considers the positive spiritual effects of drum playing. Drums instill awe and respect (muhiba), a sense of gravity and intimacy (waqar and uns) and inspire the desire to set out on the inner path of ‘greater holy war’ .The Kazaruniyya’s military music is a form of music associated with a royal residence and has nothing to do with dhikr or sama’-performances .The courtly orchestra attached to the tomb of Imam ‘Ali Rida (d. 818) in Mashhad consists of trumpets accompanied by drums and plays in honor of the Imam and by way of invoking blessings on him. Of these three different kinds of military music only that of the Sumadiyya is intended to induce ecstasy.: This essay is divided into three sections. In section 1. Meier examines the extant historical evidence relating to the Sumadiyya, a suborder of the Qadiriyya, which was founded in the Syrian village of Sumad but moved its headquarters to Damascus by the end of the 15th century. The Sumadi family claims descent from a direct disciple of `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166), as well as from a daughter of Jilani. Meier presents what is known from Arabic sources about the family’s role in society and politics, particularly their relations with other prominent families in Damascus and the Ottoman government. While describing the successive heads of the Sumadi family, Meier makes numerous illuminating comments about the decentralized organization and different family branches of the Qadiriyya order. By around 1800 the family begins to disintegrate, in part due to internal splits over leadership. At the end of section 1) a detailed genealogical family tree is provided.
Section 2. discusses the prominence accorded to drum playing in the Sumadiyya’s dhikr and sama’-performances .According to legend a particular drum possessed by the family had been beaten at the capture of Acre from the Crusaders. Meier considers the chronological problems raised by the legend and which capture of Acre may have been intended (1187 or 1291). Miracles associated with the famous drum are described. The legend of the drum is also discussed in terms of hagiographic strategies found in other sources. The Sumadiyya regularly beat drums at night in the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus. There were opponents and supporters of religious uses of drumming.
Section 3. considers the positive spiritual effects of drum playing. Drums instill awe and respect (muhiba), a sense of gravity and intimacy (waqar and uns) and inspire the desire to set out on the inner path of ‘greater holy war’ .The Kazaruniyya’s military music is a form of music associated with a royal residence and has nothing to do with dhikr or sama’-performances .The courtly orchestra attached to the tomb of Imam ‘Ali Rida (d. 818) in Mashhad consists of trumpets accompanied by drums and plays in honor of the Imam and by way of invoking blessings on him. Of these three different kinds of military music only that of the Sumadiyya is intended to induce ecstasy.: This essay is divided into three sections. In section 1. Meier examines the extant historical evidence relating to the Sumadiyya, a suborder of the Qadiriyya, which was founded in the Syrian village of Sumad but moved its headquarters to Damascus by the end of the 15th century. The Sumadi family claims descent from a direct disciple of `Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166), as well as from a daughter of Jilani. Meier presents what is known from Arabic sources about the family’s role in society and politics, particularly their relations with other prominent families in Damascus and the Ottoman government. While describing the successive heads of the Sumadi family, Meier makes numerous illuminating comments about the decentralized organization and different family branches of the Qadiriyya order. By around 1800 the family begins to disintegrate, in part due to internal splits over leadership. At the end of section 1) a detailed genealogical family tree is provided.
Section 2. discusses the prominence accorded to drum playing in the Sumadiyya’s dhikr and sama’-performances .According to legend a particular drum possessed by the family had been beaten at the capture of Acre from the Crusaders. Meier considers the chronological problems raised by the legend and which capture of Acre may have been intended (1187 or 1291). Miracles associated with the famous drum are described. The legend of the drum is also discussed in terms of hagiographic strategies found in other sources. The Sumadiyya regularly beat drums at night in the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus. There were opponents and supporters of religious uses of drumming.
Section 3. considers the positive spiritual effects of drum playing. Drums instill awe and respect (muhiba), a sense of gravity and intimacy (waqar and uns) and inspire the desire to set out on the inner path of ‘greater holy war’ .The Kazaruniyya’s military music is a form of music associated with a royal residence and has nothing to do with dhikr or sama’-performances .The courtly orchestra attached to the tomb of Imam ‘Ali Rida (d. 818) in Mashhad consists of trumpets accompanied by drums and plays in honor of the Imam and by way of invoking blessings on him. Of these three different kinds of military music only that of the Sumadiyya is intended to induce ecstasy.

'The Cleanest about Predestination: A Bit of Ibn Taymiyya’: This essay falls into three sections. Section 1. by way of introduction, characterizes Ibn Taymiyya’s `fundamentalist’ thought. The Prophet Mohammed is dead and until the Resurrection cannot intervene on our behalf with God, and certainly `saints’, whether living or dead, have no such power. We cannot know God through our own efforts. Everything we need to know about religion and how to live is contained in the Koran and the sunna. Nor is there a path to God through philosophical speculation, or through self-purification and self-abnegation. And exaggerated religious devotions are not required.
Section 2. elaborates these points with relation to the Sufis. Sufis give too much importance to experience and exceptional states: visions, dreams, inspirations, etc. But these are never as binding as the Koran and the sunna. Ibn Taymiyya views contemporary miracles as charlatanism or of satanic origin. In addition, the Sufis tend to be indifferent to the commands and prohibitions of religion, maintaining that whatever happens is the will of God. For instance Ibn `Ata’allah al-Sikandari. a spokesman at that time for the Shadhiliyya in Egypt, emphasized contentment (rida) above love and advocated dropping all planning (isqat al-tadbir). The Sufi approach, in this respect, is one-sided. God has two wills. The one is designated as kawni 'existential’ and determines everything that happens. The other is din 'religious’ and refers to what should and should not be done. This is an old distinction previously described as irdda (God’s will) and amr (His command). Sufis overemphasize predestination or God’s existential will. It is especially reprehensible to argue against the divine commands by invoking predestination.
Section 3. the central part of the essay, is a detailed exposition of Ibn Taymiyya’s nuanced and consistent thought about man’s dilemma and man’s duties in view of God’s two forms of will. Man has no way of dealing with predestination but must render obedience and do battle in the field of divine commands and prohibitions. Meier translates an excerpt from Ibn Taymiyya’s Maratib al-irdda which clarifies the different categories and subtle workings of God’s will.: This essay falls into three sections. Section 1. by way of introduction, characterizes Ibn Taymiyya’s `fundamentalist’ thought. The Prophet Mohammed is dead and until the Resurrection cannot intervene on our behalf with God, and certainly `saints’, whether living or dead, have no such power. We cannot know God through our own efforts. Everything we need to know about religion and how to live is contained in the Koran and the sunna. Nor is there a path to God through philosophical speculation, or through self-purification and self-abnegation. And exaggerated religious devotions are not required.
Section 2. elaborates these points with relation to the Sufis. Sufis give too much importance to experience and exceptional states: visions, dreams, inspirations, etc. But these are never as binding as the Koran and the sunna. Ibn Taymiyya views contemporary miracles as charlatanism or of satanic origin. In addition, the Sufis tend to be indifferent to the commands and prohibitions of religion, maintaining that whatever happens is the will of God. For instance Ibn `Ata’allah al-Sikandari. a spokesman at that time for the Shadhiliyya in Egypt, emphasized contentment (rida) above love and advocated dropping all planning (isqat al-tadbir). The Sufi approach, in this respect, is one-sided. God has two wills. The one is designated as kawni 'existential’ and determines everything that happens. The other is din 'religious’ and refers to what should and should not be done. This is an old distinction previously described as irdda (God’s will) and amr (His command). Sufis overemphasize predestination or God’s existential will. It is especially reprehensible to argue against the divine commands by invoking predestination.
Section 3. the central part of the essay, is a detailed exposition of Ibn Taymiyya’s nuanced and consistent thought about man’s dilemma and man’s duties in view of God’s two forms of will. Man has no way of dealing with predestination but must render obedience and do battle in the field of divine commands and prohibitions. Meier translates an excerpt from Ibn Taymiyya’s Maratib al-irdda which clarifies the different categories and subtle workings of God’s will.: This essay falls into three sections. Section 1. by way of introduction, characterizes Ibn Taymiyya’s `fundamentalist’ thought. The Prophet Mohammed is dead and until the Resurrection cannot intervene on our behalf with God, and certainly `saints’, whether living or dead, have no such power. We cannot know God through our own efforts. Everything we need to know about religion and how to live is contained in the Koran and the sunna. Nor is there a path to God through philosophical speculation, or through self-purification and self-abnegation. And exaggerated religious devotions are not required.
Section 2. elaborates these points with relation to the Sufis. Sufis give too much importance to experience and exceptional states: visions, dreams, inspirations, etc. But these are never as binding as the Koran and the sunna. Ibn Taymiyya views contemporary miracles as charlatanism or of satanic origin. In addition, the Sufis tend to be indifferent to the commands and prohibitions of religion, maintaining that whatever happens is the will of God. For instance Ibn `Ata’allah al-Sikandari. a spokesman at that time for the Shadhiliyya in Egypt, emphasized contentment (rida) above love and advocated dropping all planning (isqat al-tadbir). The Sufi approach, in this respect, is one-sided. God has two wills. The one is designated as kawni 'existential’ and determines everything that happens. The other is din 'religious’ and refers to what should and should not be done. This is an old distinction previously described as irdda (God’s will) and amr (His command). Sufis overemphasize predestination or God’s existential will. It is especially reprehensible to argue against the divine commands by invoking predestination.
Section 3. the central part of the essay, is a detailed exposition of Ibn Taymiyya’s nuanced and consistent thought about man’s dilemma and man’s duties in view of God’s two forms of will. Man has no way of dealing with predestination but must render obedience and do battle in the field of divine commands and prohibitions. Meier translates an excerpt from Ibn Taymiyya’s Maratib al-irdda which clarifies the different categories and subtle workings of God’s will.

‘Almoravids and Marabouts’: This is the largest and most densely documented of the essays here presented, and consists of four sections. Section 1. subtitled ‘Ribat and murdbata’, examines the Islamic institution of the frontier guard who, on a voluntary basis, detaches himself from his tribe and family to man a fort ‘Ribat against infidel invaders. Besides performing a purely military activity, those who undertake murdbata (the salihun and murbitun) also engage in religious devotions and cultivate a sense of piety.
Section 2. ‘Murabit and marabout’ considers how the later meaning of marabout, `holy man’, evolved out of the meaning of murabit as a frontier guard. This development was peculiar to North Africa and Spain, whereas ‘Ribat in the East came exclusively to mean a civilian hospice for lodging. In the Arabic vernacular in the west murdbit comes to signify a man of piety who acts as a mediator in disputes or between the common people and the government. His family and descendants retain a sanctified status in the community and up to modern times have often played a decisive role in dynastic politics.
In section 3. ‘Al-murdbitun and the Almoravids’, early Arabic historians who deal with the beginnings of the Almoravid movement of the 11th century are examined in light of the different meanings of rnurdbata in an attempt to make better sense of the unresolved contradictions in the sources. The interpretations of leading European and Moroccan historians are weighed against the historical evidence and religious significance of the term murbit. In this context murabit designates a particular people, i.e. a group of Berber tribes (at the head of which stands the Lamtuna) who were originally adherents and then fighting `comrades’ of Ibn Yasin. In summing up, the full range of differences between a ‘Murabit as a holy man and an Almoravid are reviewed.
Finally, section 4. `Those who veil their mouth...’ treats the subject of the origins and function of wearing a veil over the mouth, which was a distinctive custom of the Almoravids so much so that their 12th-century rivals the Almohads strongly condemned the practice. A range of studies by European ethnographers is considered, as well as various ideas about the veil found in early Arabic historical and geographical literature.: This is the largest and most densely documented of the essays here presented, and consists of four sections. Section 1. subtitled ‘Ribat and murdbata’, examines the Islamic institution of the frontier guard who, on a voluntary basis, detaches himself from his tribe and family to man a fort ‘Ribat against infidel invaders. Besides performing a purely military activity, those who undertake murdbata (the salihun and murbitun) also engage in religious devotions and cultivate a sense of piety.
Section 2. ‘Murabit and marabout’ considers how the later meaning of marabout, `holy man’, evolved out of the meaning of murabit as a frontier guard. This development was peculiar to North Africa and Spain, whereas ‘Ribat in the East came exclusively to mean a civilian hospice for lodging. In the Arabic vernacular in the west murdbit comes to signify a man of piety who acts as a mediator in disputes or between the common people and the government. His family and descendants retain a sanctified status in the community and up to modern times have often played a decisive role in dynastic politics.
In section 3. ‘Al-murdbitun and the Almoravids’, early Arabic historians who deal with the beginnings of the Almoravid movement of the 11th century are examined in light of the different meanings of rnurdbata in an attempt to make better sense of the unresolved contradictions in the sources. The interpretations of leading European and Moroccan historians are weighed against the historical evidence and religious significance of the term murbit. In this context murabit designates a particular people, i.e. a group of Berber tribes (at the head of which stands the Lamtuna) who were originally adherents and then fighting `comrades’ of Ibn Yasin. In summing up, the full range of differences between a ‘Murabit as a holy man and an Almoravid are reviewed.
Finally, section 4. `Those who veil their mouth...’ treats the subject of the origins and function of wearing a veil over the mouth, which was a distinctive custom of the Almoravids so much so that their 12th-century rivals the Almohads strongly condemned the practice. A range of studies by European ethnographers is considered, as well as various ideas about the veil found in early Arabic historical and geographical literature.: This is the largest and most densely documented of the essays here presented, and consists of four sections. Section 1. subtitled ‘Ribat and murdbata’, examines the Islamic institution of the frontier guard who, on a voluntary basis, detaches himself from his tribe and family to man a fort ‘Ribat against infidel invaders. Besides performing a purely military activity, those who undertake murdbata (the salihun and murbitun) also engage in religious devotions and cultivate a sense of piety.
Section 2. ‘Murabit and marabout’ considers how the later meaning of marabout, `holy man’, evolved out of the meaning of murabit as a frontier guard. This development was peculiar to North Africa and Spain, whereas ‘Ribat in the East came exclusively to mean a civilian hospice for lodging. In the Arabic vernacular in the west murdbit comes to signify a man of piety who acts as a mediator in disputes or between the common people and the government. His family and descendants retain a sanctified status in the community and up to modern times have often played a decisive role in dynastic politics.
In section 3. ‘Al-murdbitun and the Almoravids’, early Arabic historians who deal with the beginnings of the Almoravid movement of the 11th century are examined in light of the different meanings of rnurdbata in an attempt to make better sense of the unresolved contradictions in the sources. The interpretations of leading European and Moroccan historians are weighed against the historical evidence and religious significance of the term murbit. In this context murabit designates a particular people, i.e. a group of Berber tribes (at the head of which stands the Lamtuna) who were originally adherents and then fighting `comrades’ of Ibn Yasin. In summing up, the full range of differences between a ‘Murabit as a holy man and an Almoravid are reviewed.
Finally, section 4. `Those who veil their mouth...’ treats the subject of the origins and function of wearing a veil over the mouth, which was a distinctive custom of the Almoravids so much so that their 12th-century rivals the Almohads strongly condemned the practice. A range of studies by European ethnographers is considered, as well as various ideas about the veil found in early Arabic historical and geographical literature.

'Tahir al-Safadt’s Forgotten Work on Western Saints of the 6th/12th Century’: This essay begins by reviewing the early Arabic sources describing pious Muslims and miracle workers in the west of North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula, the earliest of which date from the 13th century. But there is a 12th-century work on this subject, composed sometime before the death of Abu Ya'azza (1177) which has hitherto been neglected. Meier then proceeds to give a paraphrase of the accounts about saints, ascetics and religious scholars found in Al-sirr al-masacn by Tahir al-Sadafi. This is a sizable fragment preserved in al-Barizi’s Tawthiq `ura’liman ft tafdil habib al-rahrndn. Sadafi’s book might rightly be described as a ‘hagiographical journal’ (Kunnash / kunnasha). It covers Spain, Morocco, Egypt and the Hijaz, though with a preponderance of persons from the west. All the individuals described are contemporaries of Sadafi whom he met personally or heard about. Except for Abu Ya`azza and `Abd al-Malik b. Masarra, the persons described are not famous saints or men of learning. These are naive, credulous reports, edifying fantasies which stress the miraculous. For all their intellectual modesty, however, they enrich our knowledge of hagiographic motifs and acquaint us with persons of the 12th century unknown from other sources.: This essay begins by reviewing the early Arabic sources describing pious Muslims and miracle workers in the west of North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula, the earliest of which date from the 13th century. But there is a 12th-century work on this subject, composed sometime before the death of Abu Ya'azza (1177) which has hitherto been neglected. Meier then proceeds to give a paraphrase of the accounts about saints, ascetics and religious scholars found in Al-sirr al-masacn by Tahir al-Sadafi. This is a sizable fragment preserved in al-Barizi’s Tawthiq `ura’liman ft tafdil habib al-rahrndn. Sadafi’s book might rightly be described as a ‘hagiographical journal’ (Kunnash / kunnasha). It covers Spain, Morocco, Egypt and the Hijaz, though with a preponderance of persons from the west. All the individuals described are contemporaries of Sadafi whom he met personally or heard about. Except for Abu Ya`azza and `Abd al-Malik b. Masarra, the persons described are not famous saints or men of learning. These are naive, credulous reports, edifying fantasies which stress the miraculous. For all their intellectual modesty, however, they enrich our knowledge of hagiographic motifs and acquaint us with persons of the 12th century unknown from other sources.: This essay begins by reviewing the early Arabic sources describing pious Muslims and miracle workers in the west of North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula, the earliest of which date from the 13th century. But there is a 12th-century work on this subject, composed sometime before the death of Abu Ya'azza (1177) which has hitherto been neglected. Meier then proceeds to give a paraphrase of the accounts about saints, ascetics and religious scholars found in Al-sirr al-masacn by Tahir al-Sadafi. This is a sizable fragment preserved in al-Barizi’s Tawthiq `ura’liman ft tafdil habib al-rahrndn. Sadafi’s book might rightly be described as a ‘hagiographical journal’ (Kunnash / kunnasha). It covers Spain, Morocco, Egypt and the Hijaz, though with a preponderance of persons from the west. All the individuals described are contemporaries of Sadafi whom he met personally or heard about. Except for Abu Ya`azza and `Abd al-Malik b. Masarra, the persons described are not famous saints or men of learning. These are naive, credulous reports, edifying fantasies which stress the miraculous. For all their intellectual modesty, however, they enrich our knowledge of hagiographic motifs and acquaint us with persons of the 12th century unknown from other sources.

The work falls into five sections. Section 1. describes theologians (‘ulama’), jurists (fuqaha’) and Friends of God (awliyd’) whom Sadafi met in the Maghreb (Morocco and Spain); section 2. deals with pious worshippers of God (`ubbad) and ascetics (zuhhad) in the same region; section 3. with the same category of people he had not met but only heard about; section 4. with theologians, ascetics and men of education (fudala’) he met or heard about in Egypt; and section 5. describes persons he encountered in the Hijaz. Meier’s accompanying notes are copious and provide the reader with interesting comparisons and a wide range of pertinent bibliographical references.

'A Resurrection of Mohammed in Suyuti’: Meier begins by reviewing early ideas about Mohammed’s status and whereabouts after death. More popular views, in distinction to those later held by Ibn Taymiyya and the Wahhabis, claimed that Mohammed had died and his corpse was in Medina but that he is alive in his grave and, as in the case of the other prophets, his spirit (ruh) is free to move about and participate in the world. Evidence from tombstone inscriptions is referred to and parallels with Jesus (who in the Muslim view did not die but was translated to heaven) are taken into account. Likewise, ideas about the Prophet’s ubiquity and multilocation on the part of Friends of God are considered.: Meier begins by reviewing early ideas about Mohammed’s status and whereabouts after death. More popular views, in distinction to those later held by Ibn Taymiyya and the Wahhabis, claimed that Mohammed had died and his corpse was in Medina but that he is alive in his grave and, as in the case of the other prophets, his spirit (ruh) is free to move about and participate in the world. Evidence from tombstone inscriptions is referred to and parallels with Jesus (who in the Muslim view did not die but was translated to heaven) are taken into account. Likewise, ideas about the Prophet’s ubiquity and multilocation on the part of Friends of God are considered.: Meier begins by reviewing early ideas about Mohammed’s status and whereabouts after death. More popular views, in distinction to those later held by Ibn Taymiyya and the Wahhabis, claimed that Mohammed had died and his corpse was in Medina but that he is alive in his grave and, as in the case of the other prophets, his spirit (ruh) is free to move about and participate in the world. Evidence from tombstone inscriptions is referred to and parallels with Jesus (who in the Muslim view did not die but was translated to heaven) are taken into account. Likewise, ideas about the Prophet’s ubiquity and multilocation on the part of Friends of God are considered.
The main focus of the essay, however, is the concept of Mohammed’s continued life after death which is sketched in two works by Suyuti (14451505): the Inbdh al-adhkiyd’ ft hayat al-anbiyd’ and the Tanwir a-lhalak ft inkan ru’yat a-lnabi wa’lrnalak .Suyati’s view combines the incorruptibility of the Prophet’s body and his body’s revival by his surviving spirit. Hence the Prophet lives on in flesh and blood after death. He moves about freely and travels wherever he wishes on earth and in the supernatural realm (malakut). He looks as he did in life but is only visible to those whom God has given special grace.
Ibn ‘Arabi held that seeing Mohammed after the latter’s death made one a Companion of the Prophet. This attitude was shared by the two founders of Sufi orders, Ahmad al-Tijani (d. 1815) and Mohammed al-Sands! (d. 1859). Tijani, for instance, claimed to have met the Prophet and been initiated by him and thus to have become a Companion himself. Other later figures who were influenced by Suyuti are discussed: Mohammed al-Filali, al-Hajj `Umar Tal (founder of a Tijani state on the upper Niger), etc. The Salafi-Wahhabi view, based on sound hadiths, accepts that the Prophet lives on in his grave but only in his grave. He does not move about in the world.

'Invoking Blessings on Mohammed in Prayers of Supplication and When Making Requests’: This essay presents a broad spectrum of uses of the tasliya `invoking blessings on Mohammed’ and speculates as to their origin and meaning. It is divided into four sections:: This essay presents a broad spectrum of uses of the tasliya `invoking blessings on Mohammed’ and speculates as to their origin and meaning. It is divided into four sections:: This essay presents a broad spectrum of uses of the tasliya `invoking blessings on Mohammed’ and speculates as to their origin and meaning. It is divided into four sections:
1. In prayers of supplication (du`a’), repeated at the beginning, middle and end, or sometimes only at the beginning: Hadiths and other pious sayings supporting this use are cited. Ibn Taymiyya approved of the tasliya in preference to formulas of conjuration. Evidence from inscriptions on wood and stone are reviewed. Uses of the tasliya to overcome adversity are noted. Repeating the tasliva hundreds of tires is meant to `coerce heaven’, and great benefits are to be had by reciting the yasliya without any specific request. Hence it is recommended to read through Jazuli’s Dala`il al-khayrdt (a collection of different forms of tasliyat forty times in forty days. One will also benefit from dedicating to the Prophet all the reward for saying the tasliya.
2. Against the plague: Meier examines a work by Ahmad b. Abi Hajala (d. 1375) who argues in favor of using the tasliya for protection against the plague. This author mentions all the cases of plague he knew about in the Islamic world before the plague of 1364 and describes the religious measures taken against the black death in 1348 which he witnessed himself in Damascus. Maqrizi’s supplementary evidence about plague is discussed, as well as a work by Baylani (d. 1632-33) which gives different remedies against plague including the tasliya. But the yasliya was not universally adopted as a measure against plague as Ibn Abi Hajala had wanted. It: remained in the background only to be used occasionally in emergencies.
3. When making a request: Early on the yasliya was used when requesting something from a human being. It functioned as a form of conjuration. The person addressed is called upon to invoke blessings on the Prophet. Oldest known examples are considered, for instance the clever way the poet Abu Dulama used the tasliya in a request he made to the caliph al-Mahdi (d. 785).
4. As an order to be silent: The tasliya can still be used today in an attempt to settle a dispute but as a practice it goes very far back. It is referred to in early juridical discussions in connection with blasphemy, e.g. by Sahnon (d. 854). Recent and old examples are examined. In closing, Meier considers possible explanations for the origin of the yasliya of appeasement, as well as the tasliya used before making a declaration or an intimate communication.

'The Priority of Faith or Thinking Well of Others over a Concern for Truth among Muslims’; The intellectual and practical implications of the complex of ideas associated with husn al-zanu and itiadd are investigated in a rich variety of contexts. One is impressed by the diversity of situations in which this fundamental Islamic concept turns up. Meier’s wide-ranging familiarity with primary source materials permits him to pursue his subject in eight separate areas: 1. thinking well of God, 2. of the Prophet Mohammed, 3. of `Alids and descendants of the Prophet’s Companions, 4. of deeply rooted religious practices and customs, 5. of religious authorities, 6. of one’s Sufi instructor, 7. Muslims’ thinking well of one another, and 8. favorable or unfavorable thought as a magic power.; The intellectual and practical implications of the complex of ideas associated with husn al-zanu and itiadd are investigated in a rich variety of contexts. One is impressed by the diversity of situations in which this fundamental Islamic concept turns up. Meier’s wide-ranging familiarity with primary source materials permits him to pursue his subject in eight separate areas: 1. thinking well of God, 2. of the Prophet Mohammed, 3. of `Alids and descendants of the Prophet’s Companions, 4. of deeply rooted religious practices and customs, 5. of religious authorities, 6. of one’s Sufi instructor, 7. Muslims’ thinking well of one another, and 8. favorable or unfavorable thought as a magic power.; The intellectual and practical implications of the complex of ideas associated with husn al-zanu and itiadd are investigated in a rich variety of contexts. One is impressed by the diversity of situations in which this fundamental Islamic concept turns up. Meier’s wide-ranging familiarity with primary source materials permits him to pursue his subject in eight separate areas: 1. thinking well of God, 2. of the Prophet Mohammed, 3. of `Alids and descendants of the Prophet’s Companions, 4. of deeply rooted religious practices and customs, 5. of religious authorities, 6. of one’s Sufi instructor, 7. Muslims’ thinking well of one another, and 8. favorable or unfavorable thought as a magic power.
The hadith qudsi: `I (God) am as My bondsman thinks of Me’ has been variously interpreted in Islam to explain the virtue and benefits of having trust in God, as well as the kinds of power resulting from firm belief. Meier provides concrete examples of how husn al-zaun requires Muslims to show respect for God, the Prophet, `Alids, holy men and their alleged graves, Sufi shaykhs, and fellow Muslims. The way faith can heighten the efficacy of supplicatory prayer, even among non-Muslims, is also considered. Finally, four categories of magical power are examined in connection with thinking well or badly about a person. These include the psychic powers of the Friend of God, i.e. his himma `effective power’, tasarruf `power of disposal’ and nazar ‘gaze’, as well as tawdjud `anticipatory mimicking’ of rapture as a means of inducing real states of ecstasy.

'Poetic Refrain and Mahyd’: This essay opens with a description of the panegyric poems in praise of the Prophet which form the conclusion to the large work by Ahmad al-Maqqari al-Tilimsani (d. 1631): Nafh altib min ghusn al-Andalus a-lratib wadhikr waziriha Lisdn a-Din b. al-Khatib. Meier analyzes the strophic structure and rhyme schemes of the poems and in particular their use of the tasliya, i.e. invoking blessings on the Prophet. He conjectures that this voluminous appendix of Maqqari’s serves as one long tasliya by way of concluding his book. Meier then asks whether poems with a tasliya refrain might have been used in what later came to be known as a ma mahya-performance, i.e. communal recitation of blessings on the Prophet. The importance of the Dald’il al-khayrdt of Mohammed b. Sulayman a-Jazali (d. 1465), a very popular collection of tasliya formulas, is discussed, as well as the later, more elaborate collection by Ibn`Azzam (d. 1553), the Tanbih alanam.
But it was Nur al-Din ‘Ali al-Shani (d. 1537-38) who created the mahya for invoking blessings on the Prophet and in 1492 established its performance in Cairo in al-Azhar. His student Sharani notes in 1542 that Shani’s mahya had spread to Alexandria, Upper Egypt, the Hijaz, Syria, North Africa and Senegal. In 156364 `Abd al-Qadir al`Atiki performed what was now formally designated laylat almahyd in the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus. Further developments in gatherings for communal reciting of tasliyat are considered and the relationship of the Shuni-type mahyd and the Sufi hadra is examined. The former gives emphasis to large numbers of repetition to induce God to be good to the Prophet. In conclusion Meier speculates on whether poems with tasliya refrains such as those cited by Maqqari might have been used in a mahya-performance.