Journal of the History of Sufism, 4 (2003), 1-13.

Kenneth HONERKAMP
AB ABD AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM (D. 412/1201)
ON SAM, ECSTASY and DANCE
Toward the end of the formative period of Sufism (10-11th centuries CE) Ab Abd al-Rahmn al-Sulam
composed several treatises that provide us with precious insights into sam and the nature of the ecstatic
states that may arise during sessions of sam.1 The present article is based on Sulams Kitb al-sam,2 and
augmented with material from two of his as yet unpublished manuscripts, Mahsin al-tasawwuf,3 and Kitb
fusl f al1

In this paper I intend to deal exclusively with Sulams views on sam as a Sufi devotional practice. By Sulams times, the term
sam had come to include music, singing, and the use of musical instruments. In Kitb al-sam Sulam restricts himself to the
devotional aspects of the spiritual assembly in which poetry (no music is mentioned) is recited and the states of grace and ecstasy
induced during such assemblies. I have also tried to allow Sulam to speak for himself as much as possible without excessive analysis.
For an historical overview of sam see J. During, Sam, EI, CD edition and N. Prjawd, Du Risla dar sam, in Marif 3
(March: 1989), pp. 3-72.
2

Kitb al-sam has been edited twice. Both editions depended upon the same manuscript. Kitb al-sam, ed. N. Prjawd,
Majma-yi thr-i Ab Abd al-Rahmn al-Sulam (Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Dnishgh, 1990-1993), 2/14-25 and ed., Al Aqila
Arsn, in Majallat al-Tawrth al-Arab (Kuwait: 1985), vol. 1, pp. 80-94. My textual references are to the edition of Dr. Prjawd. I
have chosen to use N. Prjawds edition because of his excellent introduction to the text and the relative availability of the Tehran
edition for those seeking access to the Arabic text. Sulam indicates that Kitb al-sam is a summary of another work he composed on
sam that he refers to as Masalat al-sam, this work has not come down to us. Sulam, Kitb al-sam, pp. 20, 22.
3

Kitb mahsin al-tasawwuf, Ms. 1027 Q, fol. 197r. to 212r., Manuscript Library of Rabat, Morocco. I have prepared a critical edition
of this and several other manuscripts by Sulam and hope to see them published soon by Markaz-i Nashr-i Dnishgh in Tehran. For a
summary of this texte see : Jean-Jacques Thibon, La Relation Matre-Disciple ou Les lments de lAlchimie Spirituelle daprs trois
manuscrits de Sulam, in Genevive Gobillot, d., Mystique Musulmane, Parcours en Compagnie dun Chercheur: Roger Deladrire
(Paris: ditions Cariscript, 2002), pp. 105-114. Kenneth HONERKAMP 2

tasawwuf.4 Kitb al-sam was the first monograph dedicated specifically to sam,5 and became the
model for later works on the subject, either in its form as a judicial defense of the practice of sam,6 or in
substance as a commentary on the nature of sam -- its principles, attributes, and etiquette.7
The works of Abd al-Rahmn al-Sulam al-Naysbr (d. 412/1021) form the major part of the body of
reference for our knowledge of the personalities and paths of the formative period of Islamic mysticism. 8
Although criticized by some, he was highly respected by his contemporaries for his knowledge of hadith
and his devotion to the principles of Sufism. Sulams heritage not only extends to the books and treatises,
but also involves his students, many of whom were well known scholars who played a central role
transmitting the teachings of the early Sufis.9
4

Kitb fusl f al-tasawwuf, Ms. 1204, fol. 195v. to 126r., Ben Yusuf Library in Marrakesh, Morocco. This manuscript is among
those mentioned in note 3. For a summary of this text see: J.-J. Thibon, La Relation Matre-Disciple ou Les lments de lAlchimie
Spirituelle daprs trois manuscrits de Sulam, pp. 114-123.
5
J. During, EI2, Sam, Al-Sarrj, in al-Luma has summarized an early treatise on wajd by Ab Sad b. al-Arb (d. 341/952)
that predates Kitb al-sam. This treatise, however, has not reached us. See al-Luma, ed. Abd al-Halm Mahmd and Th Abd alBq Surr, (Cairo: Dr al-Kutub al-Hadtha, 1960), pp. 383-89. For more on Ab Sad b. al-Arb see: Sulam, Tabaqt al-sfiyya
ed. Nr al-Dn Shurayba (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khnj, 1969), pp. 427-30.
6
For examples of works dedicated exclusively to a more judicial defense of sam see: Kitb al-Sam, Ibn al-Qaysarn (448507/1056-1113), ed. Ab al-Waf al-Margh (Cairo: Muhammad Tawfq Awda, 1970). In another work, Al-Qaysarn included
sam in his defense of other commonly criticized conventions of the Sufis, i.e., dance (raqs), tearing garments (tamzq al-kharqa),
and mirth (mizh). See Safwat al-tasawwuf, ed., Ghda al-Muqaddim Adra (Beirut: Dr al-Muntakhib al-Arab, 1995), pp. 298-349.
Muhammad al-Shdhil al-Tnis (820/1418-882/1478), Farah al-asm bi rukhas al-sam, ed. Muhammad al-Sharf al-Rahmn
(Tunis: Dr al-Arabiyya lil-Kitb, 1985) is a scholarly defense of sam and music by a well-known Sufi and Malk scholar of
Tunis.
7

Works dealing with the more experiential elements of sam may include a judicial defense of sam but their orientation is
more towards the devotee than the scholar. For examples of these works see: al-Sarrj, al-Luma, pp. 339-382; al-Hujwr, Kashf almahjb, trans. R. Nicholson, (Gibb Memorial rev. ed. 2000), pp. 393-420; al-Kalbdh, al-Taarruf, ed. Ahmad Shams al-Dn (Beirut:
Dr al-Kutub al-Ilmiyya, 1993), pp. 178-179; al-Qushayr, al-Risla al-Qushayriyya, ed. Marf Zurayq and Al Abd al-Hamd
Baltaj (Beirut: Dr al-Khayr, 1993), pp. 335-350; al-Makk, Qt al-qulb, ed. Sad Nasb Makrim (Beirut: Dr Sdir, 1995), pp.
119-121; al-Ghazl, Ihy ulm al-dn, ed. Muhammad al-Dl Balta (Beirut: al-Maktaba al-Asariyya, 1996), 2/363-412; Ahmad b.
Ajba (1747-1809), al-Futht al-ilhiyya f sharh al-mabhith al-asliyya, ed., al-Shaykh Abd al-Writh Muhammad Al (Beirut:
Dr al-Kutub al-Ilmiyya, 2000), pp. 151-168.
8

For detailed accounts of Sulams life and works see G. Bwering, The Qurn Commentary of Al-Sulam, in W. B. Hallaq and
D. P. Little, eds., Islamic Studies Presented to Charles J. Adams (Lieden: E.J. Brill, 1991), pp. 41-56; Cornell, Rkia, Early Sufi Women
(Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 1999), pp. 15-37. For an in-depth overview of Sulams life, times and teachers see Nr al-Dn Shuraybas
introduction to Sulams, Tabaqt al-sfiyya, pp. 11-64.
9

Among his best known students were Ab al-Qsim al-Qushayr (d. 465/1073), Ab Nuaym al-Isbahn (d. 430/1038), alHakim Muhammad b. Abd Allh al-Naysbr (d. 405/1014), and Ahmad b. Husayn al-Bayhaq (d. 458/1066). AB ABD AL-

RAHMN AL-SULAM 3

Sulam was born in Nishapur in a prestigious family well respected for their involvement in intellectual
and spiritual pursuits. From an early age he had contact through his father, Husayn b. Muhammad b. Ms
al-Azd (d. 348/958) and his maternal grandfather,10 Ab Amr Isml b. Nujayd al-Sulam (d. 360/971)
with a major spiritual tradition of Nishapur, the Malmatiyya 11 Sulam dedicated his early years to the study
of theology, jurisprudence, and hadith. In addition, he was initiated into the teachings and practices of
Sufism by the leading scholarly figures of Nishapur.12 Throughout his life he actively participated in the
transmission of hadith and the sayings of Sufi authorities from previous generations. In this fashion, he
could situate and class the mystical experience of the founding fathers of Sufism within a synthetic vision
founded upon his experience as an initiate and heir to the Malmatiyya tradition of Nishpr. His many
books and treatises, addressed to a broad spectrum of readers, testify to Sulam being more than a scholar,
Sufi biographer, and mentor; he was a school in himself. To a large extent it was through the works of
Sulam that teachings of the Malmatiyya of Nishapur and the Sufis of Iraq would become integrated,
establishing the norms that would determine the character of

10
Of the four citations that Sulam attributes to his father in Tabaqt al-sfiyya, Sulam cites two narrations from Ibn Munzil (d.
320/932) and one from Ab Al al-Thaqaf. Sulam, Tabaqt al-sfiyya, pp. 271, 366, and 361. Al-Qushayr refers to Ibn Munzil as
Shaykh al-Malmatiyya, al-Qushayr, Rislat al-Qushayr, p. 435. Both Ibn Munzil and Ab Al al-Thaqaf had frequented Hamdn
al-Qassr (d. 271/885) and Ab Hafs (d. 270/883), who were considered to be among the founders of the Malmatiyya of Nishapr.
Ibn Nujayd had been one of the best-known companions of Ab Uthmn al-Hr (d. 298/910). Al-Hr, a respected scholar of Shfi
law and hadith, was among the founders of the Malmatiyya. Sulam wrote of Ibn Nujayd: He was among the most illustrious
mashyikh of his times. He was unique in his practice of the path, due to his concealment of his interior state and the manner in which
he guarded his intimate moments [with God]. He heard, narrated, and dictated hadith. He was a reliable narrator ( thiqqa). He died in
360/971. Sulam, Tabaqt al-sfiyya, pp. 454-457.

11
For the Malmatiyya see: Abdlbk Glpinarl, Melmlik ve Melmler (Istanbul: Devlet Matbaas, 1931); Sulam, Rislat almalmatiyya, ed. Ab al-Al al-Aff (Cairo: Dr Ihy al-Kutub al-Arabiyya, 1945); Sara Sviri, Hakm Tirmidh and the Malmat
Movement, in Leonard Lewisohn, ed., Classical Persian Sufism: from its Origins to Rumi (London: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi
Publications, 1993), pp. 583-613; Fritz Meier, Khurasn and the End of Classical Sufism, in Essays in Islamic Mysticism and Piety,
trans. John OKane and Berndt Radke, (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2000), pp. 215-217. Alexander, Knysh, Islamic Mysticism, A Short History
(Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2000), pp. 94-99. Hakm Tirmidh, Kitb ithbt al-ilal, ed., Khlid Zahr (Rabat: Muhammad V University, 1998),
pp. 24-25; K. Honerkamp, The Malmatiyya of Nishapur, Their Origins and Teachings, in Three Early Sufi Texts (Louisville, KY:
Fons Vitae, 2003), pp. 91-110. Also see the collected presentations from the International Conference on the Malmatiyya and
Bayrm Orders held in Istanbul in June, 1987 in N. Clayer, A. Popovic, and T. Zarcone, eds., Melmis-Bayrmis (Istanbul: Les
ditions Isis, 1998).

12
Murd b. Ysuf al-Daws al-Shdhil reports that Ab Sahl al-Sulk (d. 369/980) a scholar of the Shfi school, gave Sulam
his first initiation into Suf invocation practices (dhikr) and supervised him in a retreat of forty days. Cited by Kister in Sulam, Kitb
db al-suhba, ed. M.J. Kister, in Oriental Notes and Studies 6 (Jerusalem: The Israel Oriental Society, 1954), p 4 of the Arabic
introduction. Abdurrahmn al-Jm reports that Ab al-Qsim al-Nasrabd (d. 367/977-8), another well-known scholar of Shfi
law, invested Sulami with the Sufi mantle (khirqa). Al-Jami, Nafaht al-uns, ed. M. Tawhdpr (Tehran: Kitfursh Mahmd, 1959),
p. 311. Kenneth HONERKAMP 4

Islamic mystical thought and practice in the ensuing centuries.

KITB AL-SAM
Kitb al-sam is the earliest example we have of a treatise on the Sufi practice of sam. Accounts of
the Sufis of the mid-3rd/9th centuries onward contain multiple references to poetry and ecstatic states
related to the recitation of particular lines of poetry. 13 As testified to by Sulams own example, Sufi circles
of this period included scholars of jurisprudence and hadith, yet there seems to have been little judicial
argumentation on the legal status of sam until Sulams time.14 Early works dealing with sam were
intended for Sufis (or would be Sufis) and treated the experiential facets of sam and its inner states and
outer requisite behavior (adab). For Sulam the adab of sam protected the devotee, on the one hand, from
his more mundane inclinations and lent authenticity to the experiential states of sam.15 As Sufism became
a recognizable modality of Islamic spirituality, concerts of sam, like other Sufi rituals, came under attack
from traditionalist scholars of hadith who considered these Sufi practices an innovation (bida). Sulam
composed Kitb al-sam in response to this criticism.16 Employing traditions drawn from hadith,17 accounts
of the Companions, the Imams of the schools of jurisprudence, and early Sufi
13

In Tabaqt al-sfiyya, Sulam cites over ninety examples of poetry recited by or for Sufis. Poetry was employed pedagogically
to stir emotions of love and longing and to induce ecstatic states.
14

N. Prjawd, Du risla dar sam, p. 22. Even those who avoided sam, such as the Malmatiyya of Nishapr, were not
averse to the practice itself. When asked why he did not attend concerts of sam, a malm responded: We have not abandoned the
sessions of sam out of disdain or denial; but out of the fear that the states we hide would be revealed. Sulam, Rislat almalmatiyya, pp. 103-104.
15
This explains why, in Sulams references to sam in his other works, the adab is such a central issue. See Sulam, Rislat almalmatiyya, pp. 112, 117; Usl al-malmatiyya wa-ghalatt al-sfiyya, ed. Abdalfatth Ahmad al-Fw Mahmd (Cairo: Matba alIrshd, 1985), p. 184; and Jawmi db al-sfiyya, 260-61, Sulk al-rifn, 405, Kitb nasm al-arwh, 419-424, in Tisat kutub f
usl al-tasawwuf wal-zuhd li-Ab Abd al-Rahmn Muhammad b. al-Husayn al-Sulam, ed. Sleymn tesh (Beirut: al-Nshir lilTib wal-Nashr wal-Tawz wal-Iln, 1993).
16
The most vehement criticism of Sufi sam and Sulam came a century later at the hands of Ibn al-Jawz (d. 510/1116). See Ibn
al-Jawz, Talbs Ibls, ed. Ayman Slih (Cairo: Dr al-Hadth, 1995), pp. 230-273. Then in the 14th century Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328),
the well known Hanbal jurist, severely criticized Sulam for the views expressed in Kitb al-sam. See Ibn Taymiyya, Kitb alsam wal-raqs (Cairo: Maktaba Muhammad Al Subayh, n.d.), pp. 321-323. L. Pouzet has analyzed the complex question of the
Hanbal opposition to sam and the social context in which the debate over the legality of sam took place in the 13 th and 14th
centuries. See L. Pouzet, Prise de position du sam en Orient musulman au VIIeme/XIIeme sicle, in Studia Islamica 57 (1983): pp.
193-234. Ghda al-Muqaddim Adra suggests that Sulams Kitb al-sam may have been one of the reasons that caused the jurists to
speak out against sam after a long silence on the issue. See Ibn al-Qaysarn, Safwat al-tasawwuf, p. 71 of the introduction.
17

Sulm augments his response in Kitab mahsin al-tasawwuf with the Qurnic verses 39:18, 50:37, 8:23, and 42:212.

ABD AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM 5

AB

authorities, Sulam demonstrates that poetry and sam have been an accepted aspect of Islamic
spirituality from the first generation. He stresses, however, that the question of judicial legitimacy is
secondary to understanding the multi-faceted aspects of sam as they relate to the states and stations of the
aspirants on the Sufi path. I will therefore concentrate, in the following pages, upon Sulams treatment of
sam as a devotional practice rather than as a set of judicial proofs.
The prelude to Sulams defense of sam comprises a brief restatement of the question at hand and a
lengthy commentary on sam as understood and practiced by the Sufis of his time.
It has reached me May God bestow His graces upon you that certain scholars in your
region have reproached the people of realized knowledge (ahl al-tahqq) for their practice of
sam, saying that at best one should regard sam as a frivolous pastime (lahwa) and repent.
Should, however, the person making this allegation examine his reason and look carefully at
the traditions of the Prophet (sunnan), the accounts of the Companions and Imms after them,
and the practice (sayr) of the righteous elders of this community, he would realize the
inaccuracy of his statement.18
In his initial response Sulam agrees with these critics opinion as it applies to sam as practiced by the
common folk (awm), declaring it blameworthy and deserving repentance. He differentiates, however, this
profane sam from the devotional sam of the Sufis; ascribing to their sam a broad range of categories
and to the audience (mustamin) a hierarchy of spiritual states and degrees of experience. The sam of the
devotees (murdn) incites them to exemplary comportment and worthy states, 19 while the people of realized
knowledge (ahl al-haqiq) find repose and relief in sam when their states and stations weigh upon them.
The sam of the devotees (murdn), those who frequent Sufi circles (tbin), and ascetics
(zuhhd) is both admonition and good guidance. It is a rebuke, an exhortation, and a
cleansing from the impurities that linger from their past misdeeds and indiscretions. Sam
provokes within them fear, hope, compassion, detachment from the world, patience, and
acceptance of Gods decrees. There is no reason therefore [for the critics] to find fault with
sam. In fact, should they sense hardness in their hearts or indolence in themselves, it
behooves
18
19

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 14.

I employ the term devotee (murd) to refer to those aspirants who are new to the teachings of Sufism. In contrast
to the term devotee, I use the term people of realized knowledge to refer to those Sulam calls al-muhaqqiqn or
ahl al-tahqq. I am employing the terms Sufi and aspirant as generic terms for all those who aspire to follow the Sufi
way. Kenneth HONERKAMP 6

them to listen that their hearts be raised up and enlivened therein to obedience. The sam of
the people of realization and experiential knowledge (marif) is repose for them from the
rigors of their states. When overcome by the moment they fear their inability to bear the
weight that descends upon them and they seek rest in the states of sam. Perhaps sam may
lighten their burdens or increase them in states of ecstasy (wajd) to find [the Real] (wujd).20
When relieved of their burdens they are calm and still. When increased in wajd they cry out
and are agitated. Only one of their number could comprehend their states.21
Sulam, through his Malmatiyya heritage, taught that individual human states are reflective of a
hierarchy of subtle centers of consciousness.22 For Sulam the multifaceted nature of sam resulted from
the disparate states of
20
Wajd, wujd, and tawjud are terms that have long been employed by early Sufi authors in their discussions on sam. Wajd (pl.
mawjd) is traditionally defined as an unexpected encounter on the level of the heart that induces states that are neither sought after
nor striven for. See al-Sarrj, al-Luma, Kitb al-wajd, pp. 375-389 and p. 418; al-Kalbdh, al-Taarruf, p. 132; al-Qushayr, alRisla al-Qushayriyya, p. 62; al-Hujwr, Kashf al-mahjb, pp. 413-15. Wajd may or may not be accompanied by movement, sighing,
or crying out. The early writers did not regard it, however, as a trance state. Tawjud refers to striving to attain a state of wajd or even
emulating a person in a state of wajd. Wujd, is by far the most difficult term to grasp. Ibn al-Arab defines it as Finding (wijdn) the
Real (al-haqq) in ecstasy, Futht al-makkiyya (Cairo: 1911), 2/538; trans. W. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge (New York:
State University of New York Press, 1989), p. 212. For an in-depth look at these three term see: W. Chittick, The Sufi Path of
Knowledge, 212-13. In the follow discussion I will employ the Arabic terms within the bounds of the above definitions. Al-Qushayr
contextualized these three terms saying, Tawjud is the outset, wujd the end; and wajd is the center, between outset and end. See alQushayr, al-Risla al-Qushayriyya, 63.
21
22

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 14.

For the Malmatiyya, individual human spiritual states were reflected within a hierarchy of subtle centers of consciousness.
These centers were referred to as the rh, sirr, qalb, and nafs. These centers resonated with certain levels of reality. At the summit of
the hierarchy was the Divine made manifest to the rh (spirit). The sirr (innermost mystery) resonated to the spiritual or angelic realm.
The qalb (heart) resonated to the intermediate realm between the mundane and spiritual realms and the nafs (ego-self) resonated to the
worldly or mundane realm. Within this hierarchy each subtle center was aware of the realms that were below it, but not vice versa. The
ruh, being the highest, is the only center that encompassed the totality of multi-leveled spiritual reality, while the nafs, defined by the
mundane realm, was imprisoned upon itself, forced to reside in a state of unawareness (ghafla). An interesting aside to this discussion
of these centers of consciousness and their affinities within a multi-leveled scheme of reality is to be found in the words of the
eighteenth century Moroccan Sufi, Ibn Ajba, who said, As long as the rh is imprisoned in a state of ghafla it is called the nafs. Ibn
Ajba, Kitb sharh salt al-qutb Ibn Mashsh, ed. Abd al-Salm al-Imrn (Casablanca: Dr al-Rashd al-Hadtha, 1999), p. 29-30.
This hierarchical view of the subtle centers of the soul is a salient aspect of the manner in which Sulam treats sam as a means in
which the spiritual realities of each realm resonate within the subtle centers of the murd, inducing in him states of wajd. For more on
these centers of consciousness see: Sulam, Rislat al-malmatiyya, p. 100. Also see Richard Hartmann, As-Sulams Rislat alMalmatja, Der Islam 8 (1918): pp. 164-165 and Sulam, La Lucidit Implacable: ptre de Hommes du Blme, trans., R. Deladrire
(Paris: Arla, 1991), pp. 16-17, 58-67. AB ABD AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM 7

the aspirants, as he explains, Sam is one, but the color varies according to the audience. 23 The ego-self
(nafs) of some aspirants may revert to its capricious self-seeking nature under the influence of sam while
others may find release from their bondage to the nafs through their intimacy with God. Sulam underscores
the reciprocal nature of the listeners inner state and the very manner in which he hears in the following
citation ascribed to Junayd:
Sam corresponds to the [state of] the listener. The most exalted thing one can hear is the
Qurn It is a restorative remedy, a mercy, good guidance, and a clear message, while the
basest thing that one may hear is poetry. The Qurn, however, may be a punishing rod to one
who hears it, despite its being a remedy and mercy, while poetry may instill wisdom in the
heart of hearer, though it is but vain speech.24
Beyond these diverse states of the devotees are the states of those who have attained to the state of
realized knowledge (al-muhaqqiqn). They may hear falsehood or vain speech as the truth, 25 while those
who have not attained to this station may listen to the truth and hear falsehood. Sulam concludes the
discussion, returning full circle, as he classifies the listeners according to a hierarchy of subtle centers from
which each hears.
Among the categories of listeners are those who listen by individual inclination ( hazz) and
whim (zann), those who listen with their inward state, present in the moment (waqt), and
those who listen with wajd, wujd, and tawjud. There are also those who are heard for
(yusmau lahu) and those who are heard from.26 They all differ according to their states,
graces and state of the narrator.27
Sulam also categorizes sam in accordance with the hierarchy of the stations attained by the aspirants
themselves.
23

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 15.

24

Ibid.

25

Sulam cites here the example of a man of the early community who fell unconscious upon hearing a seller of wild thyme cry
out y satar al-barr. When asked, upon regaining consciousness, what had occurred he replied, My heart was present [with
God] and I thought heard him say al-sa tar al-Br.. (The Last-day you will see the Maker).
26

This is reminiscent of the Hadith Qudsi known as the hadith al-wal, I am his hearing by which he hears and his sight by
which he sees . al-Bukhr, ed. Mustaf Db al-Bugh (Beirut: Dr Ibn Kathr, 1990), Kitb al-riqq, Bb al-tawdu, pp. 5/23842385. Al-Shawkn (d. 1250/1834) devoted an entire work to this hadith. In a long section he cites various interpretations of scholars
of hadith and Sufis shaykhs for the term sam as employed in this hadith. See al-Shawkn, Qatr al-wal al hadth al-wal, ed.
Ibrhm Ibrhm Hill (Cairo: Dr al-Kutub al-Hadtha, 1979), pp. 428-440.
27

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 17.

Kenneth HONERKAMP 8

Sam is the practical experience (tajriba) of the devotees, the clarity (bayn) of the
muhaqqiqn, the arousal of desire of the people of divine love (al-muhibbn), solace for the
hearts of the righteous (al-sdiqn) and the rending the veil [of self-deception] from those
engrossed in vain discourse (mubtiln).28
Sulams defense of Sufism stresses the integral nature of sam within Sufi methodology. The derivation of
a legal ruling, although important, is too simplistic to be compatible with the intricacies of sam.
Primary to the permissibility of sam for Sulam is the spiritual state and station of the aspirant. The
judicial status of sam depends upon the station of the aspirant; as Sulam relates from Ab Sahl
Muhammad b. Sulaymn:29
Sam is a laudable practice (yastahibbu) for the people of realized knowledge, permitted
(yubhu) for the pious people of scruples and ritual worship, and reprehensible (yukrahu) for
those who listen as entertainment. 30
The diversity among aspirants and the capacity of the nafs to follow its own caprices led the Sufis to
prescribe prerequisites for those wishing to attend sessions of sam.31 Only those who fulfilled these
conditions were considered to be the people of sam, for them sam was licit. Sulam describes one of
them:
He is who has sought to perfect himself outwardly, through spiritual training and striving
while inwardly he seeks perfection through reflection and self-appraisal. He occupies each
moment with behavior in accordance with the example of the Prophet (sunnan). There is no
portion left for him in his nafs, nor has he any claims upon creation and that which it
comprises. As I heard my grandfather Ab Amr Isml b.
28

Ibid., 24.

29

Muhammad b. Sulaymn al-Sulk (d. 369/980) frequented Ab Bakr al-Shibl (d. 334/946) and was a scholar of
jurisprudence and among the most knowledgeable of the Sufis of his age. See Ibn Mulaqqin, Tabaqt al-awly, ed.
Nr al-Dn Shurayba (Cairo: Matba Dr al-Talf, 1973), p. 215 and the references cited there.
30

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 16.

31

Sulam refutes a mistaken notion many claimants to Sufism had concerning sam. He states: [Among the Sufis]
a group has mistakenly assumed that tasawwuf is making utterances (qawl), ecstatic dancing (raqs), participation in
sessions of listening to the melodic recitation of poetry, and making pretentious claims and exaggerated expenditures
on gatherings. [They have come to this conclusion] because they saw some of the worthy elders enjoying sessions of
sam from time to time. Such as these are mistaken for they do not know that every heart is polluted with something
of the mundane. [Therefore] sam is not permissible advised for any frivolous heedless ego-self (nafs). Moreover, it
is forbidden, and latter opinion is the most authoritative. Junayd May God be pleased with him said to someone
who has asked him about sam, When you see a devotee attracted to sam, know that there remains in him (f
nafsihi) something of frivolity. See Sulam, Usl al-malmatiyya wa-ghalatt al-sfiyya, p. 184. AB ABD

AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM 9

Nujayd say: Sam in only licit (hall) for one whose heart is alive and his nafs is dead; as
for one whose heart is dead and his nafs is alive, sam is not licit for him.32
These prerequisites or adab were an aid to the realization of the inner states of sam. As a general
principle adab provided a normative basis of conduct for the devotee upon the spiritual path. The adab of
sam required an attitude of detachment from ones ego-self (nafs) and individual inclinations (tab). For
Sulam the adab of sam represented a methodology that opened the individual to experiential knowledge
of God and insured the authenticity of the ecstatic states (mawjd) that may arise during sam.
WAJD
In the same manner that the character of sam corresponds with the station and experience of the
aspirant, the intensity of wajd induced during a concert of sam depends on his state, knowledge, love, and
ardor. In Kitb al-sam and Mahsin al-tasawwuf, Sulam alludes to wajd within the context of his
discourse on sam but does not go into detail. 33 In another work, Fusl f tasawwuf,34 however, he devotes
two lengthy passages to wajd bringing to the discourse his distinctive awareness of the hierarchical nature
of spiritual experience. Sulam affirms that sound ecstatic states (mawjd, pl. of wajd)35 have signs and
characteristics that are discernible in the inner attitudes and outward comportment of the Sufi. These inner
attitudes are founded first and foremost upon experiential knowledge of God (marifa), His names and
attributes. As the aspirant assimilates these divine attributes they manifest inwardly in him as fear, hope,
awe, compassion, patience, contentment with Gods decrees, certainty, veracity, love, and fervor. Outwardly
he watches over his inner disposition, conforms to the law in permitted things and shuns the prohibited, his
sustenance is licit and he regards all his actions as blameworthy.
When he listens to invocation (dhikr) or sam he experiences wajd, and through this wajd,
induced by his experience of
32

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, p. 16.

33

Both these works, given their polemical methodology, seem directed to a Sufi community attracted to erudite
intellectual discourse.
34

This work is a collection of short discourses, most probably delivered in the small Sufi lodge ( duwayra) where
Sulam taught in Nishapur. It represents a rare example of the intimate mentor/student dialogue that marked Sufism
before the formation of formal Sufi orders. Wajd, when seen as an aspect of marifa, pertains to the domain of the
teachings directed to experienced aspirants, which in the case of Kitb al-fusl are Sulams own students.
35

Al-Qusharyr cites, on the authority of the early mentors (mashyikh), that, Al-wajd comes unexpectedly, while
mawjd are the fruit of recited litanies (awrd). Whoever augments his daily practices increases in his blessings
from God. See Al-Qusharyr, al-Risla al-Qushayra, p. 62. Sulam uses the plural here within the context of his
discourse on sam, I have therefore treated mawjd in this instance as the plural of wajd. Kenneth

HONERKAMP 10

sam, his being (wujd) is transformed to true being (haqqa). When dhikr and sam
encounter his inner-self (sirr) they find it resonating with spiritual states. When they
encounter his outward aspect they find him adorned with worthy demeanor and right conduct.
The states of wajd that rush in upon him conform with his state. If his sam is by God, his
being is by God, and if his sam is by the attributes of God, his being is Gods preservation
of his sirr from the awareness of any other than God. When his sam is from God, He
effaces him from his own attributes, so that there remains of him neither attribute nor trace.
When his sam is by his human nature, experiential moment, or discrete state he is between
one who errs and one who hits the mark, all in accord with his moment, states, and
attributes.36
Sulam remains largely exegetical in this part of his discourse, depicting wajd and its attendant states as
the consequences of a process of spiritual training and transformation. Wajd, as understood by Sulam and
the Sufis of his time, however, was more than cognitive phenomena on the part of the aspirant. It often
induced intense emotions, cries of joy or sorrow, physical agitation, and movement.
Sulams treatment of these tangible consequences of wajd affords us a rare view of the experiential
component of sam. Sulam regarded any overt display of wajd, such as agitation (inzij) or movement
(haraka), as blameworthy in those who hear by God, and in God since this is the station of reverent awe
and extinction in God.37 For one who had attained to experiential knowledge of God (rif), however, it
was excusable in the case that he should become distraught over the passing of a fleeting vision of the
divine perfection in creation or be overcome by a state he has no capacity to bear. Agitation at times may be
praiseworthy in a devotee focused upon his own discrete attributes and states. During sam his past
lapses, poor choices, and indiscretions may be disclosed to him. This is a state particular to devotees
(murdn).38 Sulam sees movement and agitation that emanate from the habits of the ego-self as
blameworthy in the devotee, but not for the common folk. Sam and the reactions it brings about in the
common folk may have positive consequences such as admonition and purification. It may
36

Sulam, Kitb fusl f tasawwuf, fol. 206v.

37

Ibid. In this passage Sulam echoes the Malmatiyya viewpoint concerning wajd: Among the foundations of the Malmatiyya is the
principle that when sam acts upon one of realized knowledge (mutahaqqaq), his reverent awe would prohibit him from movement or
crying out. I heard Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Khashshb say, I heard Al b. Hrn al-Husr say, When true sam finds harmony in
the heart of one of realized knowledge it adorns him with diverse divine favors, the first being that his reverent awe overcomes all
those present until they neither move, cry out, nor are distraught, his state is manifest in theirs. Sulam, Rislat al-malmatiyya, pp.
112-13.
38

Sulam, Fusl f al-tasawwuf, fol. 206v.

AB ABD AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM 11

provoke laudable attributes in them as well. In devotees, however, these states of agitation may cause
them to make claims to lofty degrees of intimacy with God when in reality they are the capricious whims
and the self-deception of the ego-self.39
In another section Sulam categorizes those who are induced to movement (al-mutaharrikn) during
sam. Among them are those who naturally enjoy elegant melodies and beautiful voices, the penitent
sinner who listens in sorrow, fear and regret, the devotee moved by the mention of Gods bounty and
compassion, the rif moved by the names of God and His attributes, and the lover moved by his yearning
for the beloved. These movements, however, are ephemeral and do not last. Then there are those who have
arrived (wsil), who listen, lost to themselves having attained to the Divine presence. They may move
according to their experiential state, but only as the frailty of servanthood dictates. Then there are those
who are well established in the way (mustaqm). For these latter Sufis, sam in itself has no influence upon
them. In all they hear there is wisdom, in all they see there is admonition. They hear the Real (al-Haqq) at
all times through their innermost secret (sirr) and their heart. Their hearing is perception, as in the Quranic
verse, Indeed in that is a reminder for one who possesses a heart or hears while being a witness. [Q
50: 37]. Sulam completes this section with the mention of those whose outer and inner aspects are so
jealously guarded by God that he possesses no state by which he is known or even noticed. He is unique,
his state and moment are uniquely with God. Sulam says, his sam is a play of illusion and appearances
(al-talbs wal-ashkl).40
ADAB
The behavior incumbent upon those who attend a concert of sam are summed up in the well-known
statement of Junayd: The requirements of sam are three in number: [suitable] brothers, [a suitable] place
and [a suitable] time.41 These articles of adab became the foundational precepts for the regulation of sam
concerts from Sulams time and are reflected in all the earlier cited works dealing with sam. Of particular
interest in Kitb al-sam and Mahsin al-tasawwuf is the role of the shaykh as the axis around which the
participants states revolve. Concisely put, the prerequisites of
39

Ibid., fol. 207r.

40

Sulam, Kitb fusl f al-tasawwuf, fol.221v 222r. At the end of this passage Sulam alludes to the hidden or unrecognized friends
of God living among his fellows. This is a concept central to the teachings of the Malmatiyya of Nishapr to whom anonymity was a
sign of Gods favor. See Sulam, Rislat al-malmatiyya, pp. 98, 105, 110, 112-114, 117. This archetype comes from the earliest
Islamic times, an example being the hadith, There are many disheveled dust covered men, [that would be] shoved away from peoples
doors, that if they made an oath on God, He would make it so. Al-Ajln, Kashf al-khaf, ed. Ahmad al-Qalsh (Beirut: Muassasat
al-Rislat, 1988), 1/512.
41

Sulam, Kitb mahsin al-tasawwuf, fol. 209v.

Kenneth HONERKAMP 12

sam are as follows:

Only attend a concert of sam with ahl al-sam and those aspirants whose spiritual states augment your
own state.42
It is generally regarded as reprehensible (makrh) for devotees and youths to assemble for sam without
a shaykh being present or someone who has exemplary presence and companionship.43
When there is a shaykh present you should focus your attention on him, not on your own transient state.
Whatever elevated states of sam emanate from him, their blessing (baraka) will descend upon you.44
A shaykh that attends a gathering of sam where devotees and youths are present should inform them
that his presence among them is for reasons of companionship and as an example, not out of obligation [as
a necessity of Sufism].45
When shaykhs associate in sam with their peers, let each of them concentrate on his own state without
blaming any of their companions whether they move or are remain motionless.46
Do not accede to doubt of the words recited in sam and do not blame anyone who becomes agitated or
transported in tawjud, whether you comprehend their intent or not.47
Refrain from making suggestions to the reciter.48
Do not allow sam to become mere emulation (taqld).49
The best of those who attend a concert of sam are those who discern between their wajd, wujd, and
tawjud during sam. For them sam does not become a routine or natural proclivity.50
Do not force yourself to cry out or become agitated except in the case of intense emotions.51
DANCE
One of the issues that wajd gave rise to was rhythmic movement, or
42

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, 24.

43

Sulam, Kitb mahsin al-tasawwuf, fol. 210r.

44

Ibid., 209v.

45

Ibid., 210r.

46

Ibid.

47

Ibid., 209v.

48

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, 24.

49

Sulam, Kitb mahsin al-tasawwuf, fol. 209v.

50

Ibid.

51

Ibid.

AB ABD AL-RAHMN AL-SULAM 13

dance. In Mahsin al-tasawwuf, within the context of sam, Sulam includes dance, keeping rhythm
with a baton, and wearing the patched frock as being among the admissible practices (rukhas) of Sufism.
Sulam writes, Dancing is among the admissible things; it is not, however, considered among the essential
aspects of Sufism.52 He cites two Qurnic foundations for dance. We strengthened their hearts and they
stood up and said, Our Lord is the Lord of the heavens and the earth, we will never call upon any
deity other than He. [Q 18:14]. Strike with your foot, herein there is cold water to drink and wash in
[Q 38:42].
Sulam also cites Mlik b. Dnr as saying: It is written in the Torah: We called out to you in fervor
and you did not respond with fervor; we played the flute for you and you did not dance. 53 In the following
curious citation from Wahb b. Munabbih, dance is a divinely endowed human attribute from the time of
Adam:
When Adam was created, God molded him in the best semblance and adorned him with the
ornaments of the Garden (al-janna). He put rings on his fingers, anklets on his ankles, bands
on his forearms, and around his neck he placed necklaces. He crowned him and adorned his
forehead with a wreath and called him by the most beloved of surnames to Him, Y Ab
Muhammad, wander about the Garden and see if you find anyone comparable to you or if I
have created anyone more wondrously than yourself? Adam turned about the Garden and
not seeing anyone more wondrous than he, began to swagger (zah) and stride proudly
(khatar) through the Garden. God looked well upon this and called out to him from the
Throne, Swagger on, O Adam, one such as you has the right to swagger; I have cherished
something and created it without equal.54
Sulam amends this citation with, From this time on God passed down this swaggering walk to the
descendants of Adam. In the ignorant this manner of walking is arrogance; in kings it is disdain; and in the
friends of God (al-awliy) it is ecstatic joy (wajd).55 Sulam also held that keeping a beat to the rhythm
with a baton was a permissible distraction (mubh) similar in legal status to archery, training horses, and a
mans enjoying himself with his family.
52

Ibid., 210v.

53

Matthew 11:17 and Luke 7:31. It is of interest that Mlik b. Dnr cites this as being from the Torah.

54

Sulam, Kitb mahsin al-tasawwuf, fol. 211r. I have not found a second reference to this citation in the works available to me.

55

Ibid.

Kenneth HONERKAMP 14

I would like to conclude here, reaffirming that the principles, attributes, and etiquette of sam as
portrayed by Sulam are as relevant today as they were in Sulams time. The concert of sam has made its
way from the traditional Islamic world to Europe and North America and taken on many new guises and
permutations. The critics of sam have continued to publicize their polemics against sam, even through
the innovation (!) of the internet. The audience, however, is as reflective today of the multi-faceted human
state as in the times of Sulam. People still attend concerts of sam seeking purification, inner peace, and
repose. In his treatment, Sulam has contextualized sam within the human condition, from the music lover
to the people of realized knowledge. If the comprehension of an issue is the prerequisite to judging it, Kitb
al-sam has provided us with the key. Note Sulams suggestion to the critics of sam:
There is no reason therefore [for the critics] to find fault with sam. In fact, should they
sense hardness in their hearts or indolence in themselves, it behooves them to partake of
sam so that their hearts be raised up and enlivened therein to obedience.56
Kenneth HONERKAMP
University of Georgia
56

Sulam, Kitb al-sam, 14.

There's No Time Like the Present!

The idea for this paper first appeared in December 2004 in Priene, that most intimate and
beautiful of Hellenistic cities on Turkey's Aegean coast, a jewel in the crown of Asia Minor. I
was visiting with students and friends from the Beshara School at Chisholme House. One of
our number was an archaeologist from Oxford who had never visited this city before, and he
saw what generations of archaeologists, tourists and eager schoolchildren before him had
sought, though overlooked: a genuine ancient Greek coin lying masked by dirt on the ground.
He was, of course, absolutely delighted (and, I hasten to add, acted impeccably and handed it
over to the Turkish authorities!). As I sat in the ruins of the Temple to Athene, enjoying the
glorious December sun and the beauty of the site, I contemplated what a superb and gracious
gift of the moment this was for him, particularly since he is an archaeologist, and I asked
myself: if I were to receive a gift of the moment a present of the present from Priene,
what would I like it to be? And I thought: I would like to have illuminated that facet of
consciousness that is represented by the worship of Athene... a thought which opened up the
idea for this paper.
Being is Single and Indivisible. Consciousness is Single and Indivisible. It 'contains' all Its own
infinite possibilities of Self-expression all possibilities of Its own becoming not as a physical
container contains something other than itself, but with the containment of identity. It is all Its
own possibilities, just as the ocean is every possible configuration that the water may take,
and just as a movement of consciousness is consciousness. Hence It is Single, Indivisible and
Infinite: perhaps you could say that It is Uniquely and Infinitely One.

This is non-time, a state of Absoluteness which contains Its own relativity. Please note the
difficulty with the words "This is non-time". To the extent that our minds operate within the
realm of relativity, the words 'non-time' encourage us to begin with a premise that there is
such a thing as time, then to negate it, or to implicitly assume that there was a time when
time was not. However, non-time is not an absence of time; it is the Reality of Timelessness:
ever here, Total Presence. And that Total Presence is totally present, now, whether we are
aware of it or not, which is why it is true to say that there is no time like the present.
Time belongs to the relative image of absoluteness: absoluteness relativised so that all those
infinite possibilities of Self-expression can be expressed, each according to its own nature, and
the treasury of the beauty of that possibility be unlocked and brought forth. This is necessarily
a relative image because only Totality is real. Any part of it, by itself, is an illusory image
drawn from that Totality. For any unique possibility to be expressed to be exteriorised or
manifested and show its own uniqueness, it cannot by definition also exteriorise the
uniqueness of another possibility. That prerogative belongs uniquely to that other possibility.
So that Single Reality of non-time, which is both beyond limitation or definition and equally the
origin of all possible limitations and definitions, appears uniquely as the image of each
possibility without being limited by it. The interior unity reveals Itself as an exterior
multiplicity. And it is this exterior multiplicity, the infinite images of the possibilities inherent in
the unity, that are dressed in space and time to appear as the relative world, or the world of
witnessing, in which we find ourselves.
But whatever the multiplicity of appearances, in Reality there are no separate things, people or
events, separated by time or distance or anything else, because Reality never divides. The One
and the Many never stood apart, except in our thought. There is never a time or a place in
which the Whole is not present with all of Its infinite possibilities.
The endless self-revelation of the One in the form of Its own possibilities is, from the point of
view of the possibility, the bringing into existence of that possibility with all its infinite states.
From the point of view of that possibility, this is the gift of Being, perpetually renewed in each
instant. Although we might use the words "the gift of Being", we must remember that Being is
never 'given' in the sense that it is transferred to the possibilities: it remains that the One
endlessly reveals Itself in their forms, according to their receptivities. Each instant, each
moment, is the becoming of the Singular Reality. So from their point of view or better, our
point of view, because each of us is no other than one of those infinite possibilities there is
literally no time like the present. Our existence does not extend in time, but is renewed at
each moment, and our present moment is the gift, or present, of existence in the form of our
possibility. Thus for both senses of the word 'present' 'present' as 'now' and 'present' as 'gift'
there is no time like the present: not because the present exists in time, but because time
exists in the Present.
Being is Single and Indivisible. Consciousness is Single and Indivisible. That single
consciousness, that ultimate ground of all that finds and all that is found,[2] is equally the
consciousness of the complete and perfect image of that Reality: the perfect human, al-insan
al-kamil, Universal Man, where the word 'Man', both in Arabic and English, is used in its nongendered sense as referring to the perfect potential of the human. This perfection belongs to
every human being by virtue of their origin, by virtue of the fact that the One Reality is, and

'we' are not: that is, we, the Many, have no existence apart from that Singular Reality of which
we are an appearance.
The consciousness of the perfect human is Reality's consciousness of Itself as One, Unique and
Infinite: as both absolute and relative. What distinguishes the human from all other images of
that Reality is that the human alone possesses in potential the synthetic nature. The interior of
the perfect human remains, and equally retains, the original, essential, unlimited and
unqualifiable potentialities of the state of Absoluteness, whilst by his/her exterior the human is
individuated in the relative universe. The perfect human is thus the isthmus which unites and
separates between absoluteness and relativity; between the necessary and the possible;
between interior and exterior; between the One and the Many. It is in the consciousness of the
perfect human that time and non-time intersect. Because s/he is present and alive both in the
world of time and equally in the Total Present, the perfect human is the place of manifestation
of non-time in time.
Just as the Timeless One is exteriorised as the Many clothed in the images of space and time,
so Its perfect Image, the singular Reality of Man, appears as the many images of humanity
throughout eras and, perhaps, places, known to us and unknown. These many images of
humanity are the detailing of the singular Reality of Man. Since Reality never divides and is
uniquely and infinitely One, the unique, individual image of humanity you or I or anyone else
and the global image of humanity all those who have ever lived, are living and will live
are both images of the same Singular Reality: Reality imaged by virtue of the One containing
the Many, or by virtue of the Many manifesting the One. But the One and the Many never
stood apart, except in our thought. The staggering variety of human cultures, beliefs,
languages, philosophies, scientific and aesthetic creativity, and so on, belong at once to the
multiple image of humanity extended over time, and equally to the single, all-inclusive
Consciousness present in every moment as the Reality of Man.
From our relative perspective that is, the projection of our reality into the realm of spacetime what distinguishes our experience of time is that time has an arrow, a direction. We can
move forwards or backwards in space, but we do not say the same of time. We owe our
modern scientific, relativistic understanding of time to Albert Einstein. The year 2005 was
nominated "Einstein's Year" because some of his most ground-breaking papers were published
in 1905; it seemed appropriate then to acknowledge this modern "Father of Time" in the
Society's 2005 symposium dedicated to "Time and Non-Time". He has given us, as it were, the
reverse image of the perspective brought by Ibn 'Arabi. Ibn 'Arabi looks 'down' from the
infinity of uniqueness towards its own relativity; whereas Einstein looks the other way, 'up'
from the relative to the infinite. He said, "Everything is relative, one to another, ad infinitum."
One of the consequences of Einstein's general theory of relativity is that time is an illusion.
The logician and mathematician Gdel proved that, according to general relativity, time travel
is possible.[3] And if it is possible to visit the 'past', then it hasn't 'passed' but is still present.
In other words, all moments of time co-exist. What, then, is the arrow?
The arrow of time can be seen as the unfolding, like the nautilus shell, of an interior potential
becoming exteriorised and actualised. Few people would argue that their own lives exhibit this
unfolding. Since the individual and the global images of humanity are each mirror to the other,
so equally the history of humanity exhibits an unfolding of potential becoming actualised. And
further, since the One and the Many never stood apart except in our thought, these two

images of humanity, individual and global, are "indissolubly interrelated". To quote Bulent
Rauf, founder and first Honorary President of the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society, "There is only
One Existence, therefore the unfolding of the destiny of the world as a global entity, and the
individual destiny, is indissolubly interrelated, and both must be seen as aspects of SelfRevelation of the Singular Reality."[4]
What is this destiny, this interior potential? How does it unfold and become actualised? As we
have seen, the perfect human is the place or better, non-place of Consciousness and Vision
whereby Reality reveals Its mystery to Itself, that is, reveals to Itself, through Love, the
infinity of Its own Beauty. The purpose of human existence, individual and global, is to become
realised in that consciousness and vision to become realised in a truly Universal Perspective.
For the completion of that realisation, the place, or the receptivity, must be prepared. Ibn
'Arabi uses the metaphor of polishing the surface of a mirror.[5] The surface of the mirror
must be polished in order to be able to reflect Beauty exactly as It is. To the degree that the
surface is not perfectly polished, the resulting image will deviate from the original. The image
will be of the subject, but according to the particularity of the surface. Anyone who has
entered a hall of mirrors at a funfair and seen themselves looking like an egg-timer can
appreciate this! When the degree of polishing is complete, the image is returned exactly as it
came. But, he informs us, the very possibility of being polished only exists because the
place already has the potential to become a perfect mirror. You could polish a ball of wool for
eternity and it would never give back your image. Because of the already existing potential for
perfection because of the ever-present Reality of Man humanity, individual and global, is
perfectible. And if we should doubt that this is the case, or even that it is possible, we can
remind ourselves of what is said in the Kernel of the Kernel: "the most important factor is to
be bound with certitude to the perfectibility of Man."[6]
The matter of preparation of the place, or of receptivity, is central to the question of time and
non-time. As has already been said, each instant, each moment, is the becoming of the
Singular Reality, in the forms of Its own possibilities. From this point of view, what is given, or
revealed, is unlimited, unqualifiable, and unrestricted. From the point of view of the
possibilities, the Singular Reality is revealed according to their receptivity and what has been
given is what they have been able to receive. To give an example, if I hold a thimble under a
waterfall, I am given a thimbleful of water; if I hold a cup I am given a cupful, and so on. If I
stand under the waterfall without a separate container, I am perpetually drenched. The perfect
potential of the human is to receive or contain the Real in the same way that the Real contains
Its own infinite possibilities of Self-expression not by one thing containing something else,
but with the containment of no-otherness. And as we saw with the example of the mirror, it is
because Man has this potential for perfect receptivity that his receptivity can be prepared.
This preparation has a direction in time because the reception of Meaning in one degree
prepares the place for further reception. This fact is represented in the structure of the Fusus
al-hikam. The revelation that is brought by each of the successive prophets, up to the
completion in Mohammed, is a revelation of the singular Truth according to the receptivity of
the people of that time and place. Through each setting of Wisdom a face of the All-inclusive
Truth is exteriorised. The All-inclusive Truth remains the reality of the interior, and this interior
Reality is present at all times and places for the one who has the eyes to see it. As is shown so
clearly in the Ottoman commentary on the summary of chapter headings at the end of the
chapter of Adam in the Fusus,[7] what is hidden in the interior of one revelation becomes

more explicit in the succeeding revelation, because the receptivity to receive the further
revelation has been prepared by the reception of the previous one. The 'process' by which the
receptivity is prepared is applicable to the whole of mankind, individually and globally,
everywhere.
Paradoxically and more importantly, the reverse is also true, and this again is shown clearly in
the Fusus.[8] The present not only prepares for the future, but it is acted upon by it. This
preparation and unfolding has a purpose and an aim: the full manifestation in the exterior of
what is already known in the interior. The unfolding of the nautilus shell is determined at each
turn by what it is to become, hence it unfolds as a nautilus and not a crab. This is the action of
non-time appearing in time. What is yet to become, in time, is already completely present in
the knowledge and consciousness of non-time, and the requirement for that to manifest in the
exterior brings about the conditions whereby it can manifest. To put it very simply, as Rumi
did, the tree comes into existence because of the fruit. As we saw earlier, the fruit is the truly
Universal Perspective that is the birthright of Universal Man. The tree, growing from seed to
fruit-laden bough, is the bringing about of the conditions, individually and globally, whereby
this can happen.
It follows that each era, each time, each moment, has a specificity to it in terms of what it can
exteriorise of the Reality of Universality; of the Reality of Man. In time, it follows from what
came before, and it prepares for and is acted upon by what is yet to come. Equally, the
moment is the reality of Timelessness, the Total Present. It is only in the singular
consciousness of the perfect human that these two are united and separated. It is said that
the perfect human "sees with both eyes". With one eye they see the timeless Reality; with the
other they see the requirements and necessities of the specific moment in life in which they
are situated.
We are born here, into the relative world, into a particular time, and that particular time has
its requirements and necessities in accordance with the global unfolding of the Reality of Man.
But the individual image of humanity and the global image of humanity are both faces of the
Self-Revelation of the Singular Reality. Hence it follows that any human being must be
inseparable from the era they are born into and indissolubly of their time, whilst at the same
time retaining the potential to be present in the Total Present, the reality of non-time.
The importance of this cannot be overemphasised. It is not just that we are conditioned by our
time, as so many have written. We are an image of our time, and our time is an image of
ourselves.
The fact that we are an image of our time, and our time is an image of ourselves, has different
aspects. One is that our possibility is already present in consciousness and in knowledge. The
requirement for that to manifest in the exterior brings about the conditions whereby it can
manifest. Thus the time into which we are born is nothing other than the matrix which is
necessary in order to allow our possibility to be fully expressed. Equally, we are the matrix
within which the possibility of the time can be expressed. So for us, there really is no better
time than the present.
Another aspect is that as individuations, we are inseparable from the era we are born into.
From the point of view of time, we cannot be of another era, of another time. We

cannot know a previous era in the way that those who lived then knew it, because they were
of it and it was of them. All we can do is look back through the eye of this era and interpret.
We cannot be of a previous era, subject to its determinations. We can only be, and must be, of
our time, receptive and responsive to what this particular time can manifest of Universality.
Rumi said "No matter how many words there may be concerning yesterday, oh my dear one,
they have gone, along with yesterday. Today it is necessary to speak of new things." To speak
of is to manifest, to bring out into the exterior, and what can be brought out today is not the
same as yesterday. It is only by being receptive and responsive to what this time can manifest
of Universality, that we can fully realise the potential of ourselves and of the time.
This raises the crucial point: what we know our time to be is a reflection of our knowledge of
ourselves. And further, what we know ourselves to be has a profound effect upon the time.
Thus if one person follows the path of the perfection of humanity, so clearly exposed and
mapped by Ibn 'Arabi, this has an effect upon the receptivity of the time and hence on the
preparation of the place for what is yet to come.
In time, we stand between the Sealing of Mohammedian Sainthood by Ibn 'Arabi and the
Sealing of Universal Sainthood by Jesus. One way that we can look at these two faces of the
Seal of Sainthood is in terms of the individual image and the global image of humanity, in that
both are faces of the Self-revelation of the Singular Reality and are indissolubly interrelated.
Ibn 'Arabi manifested here, in the exterior relative world, the completion of the Meaning of
that Self-revelation in and as the Reality of Man, and he informs mankind of and from that
level. The era of the Seal of Universal Sainthood will manifest this completion in the global
image of mankind. Insofar as this time is preparing for and is prepared by what is to come,
the choice we make individually in resolving to come to know ourselves according to the
Reality of Man, or not, has profound consequences.
Now, at last, to return to where I began: the sun-soaked stones of the temple of Athene at
Priene, stones which have witnessed a number of eras come and go, and the thought that I
would like, as my gift of the moment, my present of the present, to have illuminated that facet
of consciousness that is represented by the worship of Athene. The temple in Priene is
dedicated to Athene Polias Athene of the City, one of the designations of Athene. Athene
represents the Divine Wisdom, the hagia sophia. The city is the symbol of the Heart. So
Athene Polias represents the Heart ruled by Divine Wisdom, which can be no other than the
place of the Reality of Man. The exterior revelation of this meaning was according to the
receptivity of the time and place. The fullness of the interior meaning became more explicit
through succeeding revelations, but was completely present at that time for those with the eye
to see it, the person or people of perfection.
So, to have that facet of consciousness fully illuminated would require two aspects, that of
non-time and time. It would require illumination of that meaning according to its timeless,
interior reality, and it would require illumination of its specific unfolding in time and of what
that worship really meant to the people of that time. And both of these are possible only by
virtue of the singular consciousness, which is Mankind's true estate.
As we have seen, by virtue of their own individuation, a person is inseparable from the era
they are born into and so cannot know a previous era in the way that those who lived then
knew it. But this is not the case for the one who has gone beyond having any fixed eye

(or 'ayn), any point of view fixed by his or her own particularity, but who has instead become
the place of the vision that Reality has of Itself. In this vision, those eras are present and
witnessed. What he sees in each era is nothing other than himself, nothing other than the
possibilities which are totalised by his own being and by his own consciousness.
To quote Sadr al-Din al-Qunawi,
When the Real gave me to witness this tremendous place of witnessing, I saw that its
possessor has no fixed entity and no reality... When you witness this, you will know that you
perceive each thing only through that thing itself and inasmuch as you are identical with each
thing. Thus you are the attribute of every attribute and the quality of every essence. In one
respect, your act is the act of every actor. Everything is the differentiation of your essence. In
this state you are the common measure of all things; you make their manyness one and you
make their oneness many by the constant variation of your manifestation within them.[9]
I should like to end with some lines of poetry from a contemporary writer, Ben Okri. I choose a
contemporary writer because for me, Ibn 'Arabi is a Living Meaning and what he exposes of
the Reality of Man is universally and timelessly true. The importance of his Meaning lies in its
universality and timelessness, and hence the possibility for every human being to realise the
truth of it, here and now, in our present to the end that both the individual and the global
images of humanity may become the place of manifestation of non-time in time.
The illusion of time will give way
To the reality of time...
And time present is made
Before time becomes present.
For all time is here, now
In our awakening.[10]

Notes
1. First presented at the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Symposium entitled "Time and Non-Time", held
in Oxford in May 2005.
2. Referring to the Arabic word wujud (being, existence) which has the root of 'finding'.
3. World Without Time: The Forgotten Legacy of Gdel and Einstein by Palle Yourgau (Allen
Lane, 2005).
4. Bulent Rauf, unpublished lecture, ca. 1975.
5. Medieval mirrors were made of metal, with a surface so highly polished that it became
reflective.
6. Ismail Hakki Bursevi's translation of the Kernel of the Kernel by Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi
(Beshara Publications [1981]), p. 18.

7. Ismail Hakki Bursevi's translation of and commentary on Fusus al-Hikam by Muhyiddin Ibn
'Arabi (Oxford, 1989).
8. The Fusus details the bringing into complete manifestation, chapter by chapter, of the preexisting Mohammedian perfection and the Wisdom of all the prophets is looked at from that
perspective.
9. Nafaht, pp. 263-6, quoted by William C. Chittick in "The Central Point: Qnaw's Role in the
School of Ibn 'Arab", JMIAS XXXV (2004), p. 37.
10. Ben Okri, Mental Fight, Phoenix House, 1999, p. 67.

Ibn 'Arab on Proximity and Distance

Chapters 260 and 261 of the Futht
by Mohammed Rustom
This paper will offer a reading of Ibn 'Arab's teachings on the important Sufi concepts
of qurb (proximity) and bu'd (distance), as laid out in chapters 260 and 261 of his
monumental al-Futht al-makkiyya (The Meccan Illuminations). In these relatively brief
chapters Ibn 'Arab engages his predecessors' meditations upon these concepts, while offering
his own unique interpretations of their meaning and significance. The hadth al-nawfilplays a
crucial role in Ibn 'Arab's teachings here, as do a number of key Qur'nic passages.
Ibn 'Arab on Proximity
Ibn 'Arab devotes chapter 260 of the Futht to proximity. The full title of the chapter is
indeed elusive: "On knowing proximity which is [referred to as] the performance of acts of
obedience, [and] which may be understood as the proximity of the distance of two bowlengths (the bows forming into a circle) or nearer [Q. 53:9]." 1 In the title itself Ibn 'Arab
provides a key to understanding the exposition of proximity that is to follow. Proximity is, from
one perspective, the result of religious devotions, which is to say that one may draw nearer to
God by virtue of carrying out those acts which He has prescribed in the Law. Yet, proximity
may also be understood as that which brings two "bows" or arcs together, each of which are
"separate" and "opposite" at one point. "The distance of two bow-lengths" alludes to the
famous verse in Srat al-najm, which recounts the Prophet's mi'rj, or ascension. The Qur'nic

verse specifies neither who was brought near, nor to whom he was brought near, and
the sra and hadth literature provide additional bits of information to help solve the puzzle.
While there may be differences of opinion as to what the opening verses of Srat alnajm mean, even when the information provided in the sra andhadth literature is taken into
consideration, the Sufis agree for the most part that these verses refer to the Prophet's
encounter with God.2 "The distance of two bow-lengths" is said to denote the proximity
between the encounterer and the Encountered, between subject and Object. If this encounter
was "or nearer" (aw adn), it is either because the meeting between the encounterer and the
Encountered was more intimate than human language can describe, or because the situation
of proximity itself breaks down the barriers between the two referents such that the encounter
of proximity is nothing but a union between the two. When two arcs are made to face one
another an oval or oblong circle is formed, resulting in a unification of two opposites. When
this happens the points on the circle which distinguish the coming together of the two
opposites can no longer be determined. A perfect oval or oblong circle is so whole that even if
the two sides which form it were brought together, they would no longer be opposites; they
would be united. They would be "nearer". Without elaborating on the unique and creative ways
in which the Sufi tradition has meditated upon this symbol, it will suffice to say that in the very
title of this chapter, Ibn 'Arab gives us an idea of where he wants to take his discussion on
proximity. Although the chapter will say nothing more about the image of proximity being "the
distance of two bow-lengths", the Shaykh's expositions on the nature of proximity and its
relationship between the Divine and the human will show that this is indeed a specific type of
proximity he has in mind, and is not open to everyone.
Proximity and the Perpetual Self-Disclosures of the Real
The Shaykh begins the chapter on proximity by explaining what he means by this technical
Sufi expression. While his opening statements in this chapter undoubtedly assume the truth of
the definitions of proximity given by his illustrious predecessors, his treatment of the topic is
unmistakeably more nuanced from the outset:
God says, We are closer to him than the jugular vein [Q. 50:16]. He described Himself in
terms of proximity to His servants. What is sought by "proximity" is nothing but its being an
attribute of the servant such that he is characterized by proximity to the Real in the way that
the Real is characterized by proximity to him." 3
Ibn 'Arab's opening statements reveal proximity as a reciprocal relationship between the
Divine and the human. All beautiful and noble character traits proceed from the Divine.
"Proximity" therefore marks a certain characteristic of God. When the Prophet said "Take on
the character traits of God",4with respect to proximity this would mean that our proximity to
God presupposes God's proximity to us. Ibn 'Arab returns to this point later on in the chapter.
In the following passage, it can clearly be seen that the Shaykh's understanding of God's
perpetual self-disclosures in all things colours his exposition of "proximity". Slightly towards
the end of chapter 260 he describes the situation of proximity as being the self-disclosures of
the Real in all things, whether they are material or immaterial:
We say that that Real is not absent from being with every servant whenever He discloses
Himself to him such that He becomes manifest to him in matter or in something other than

matter. If He discloses Himself to him in matter that is a form, proximity will follow that matter
in the congregation (majlis) of witnessing and the presence of vision. If He manifests Himself
to him in something other than matter, it is proximity of place and proximity of rank, such as
the proximity of the vizier, the judge, and the governor [to the king].5
In this passage Ibn 'Arab speaks of the ways in which proximity is experienced. It is, however,
only the gnostics who can witness God in the multiple forms of creation, and who can
therefore experience that proximity which is characteristic of all existence. This point is
clarified in an earlier passage, where Ibn 'Arab begins by quoting the Qur'nic verse, And He
is with you wherever you may be [Q. 57:4]:
It is just as He says, And He is with you wherever you may be. The Men (al-rijl) always seek
to be with the Real in whatever form He discloses Himself. And He perpetually discloses
Himself in the forms of His servants. The servant is with Him perpetually wherever He
discloses Himself just as the servant is perpetually characterized by "locatedness" (ayniyya).
So God is perpetually with him in whatever location he may be. Now the "locatedness" of the
Real is in whatever form He discloses Himself. The gnostics perpetually witness proximity
because they never cease witnessing these forms in themselves and other than themselves.
There is nothing but the self-disclosure of the Real.6
Since God describes Himself in the Qur'n both as being closer to man than his very life vein
and with His creatures wherever they may be, Ibn 'Arab understands this proximity to be
nothing but a reference to the entire "situation" of existence. God's "location" is where He is
to be found. Where He is to be found, He is surely "proximate". Hence, God is proximate
everywhere, since He discloses Himself everywhere. God continually and perpetually reveals
Himself through His infinite self-disclosures to their respective loci of manifestation, which are
nothing but the existentiations of the objects of God's knowledge, that is, of the immutable
entities (al-a'yn al-thbita). In other words, the loci of manifestation are the "things" which
make up reality. Since they are nothing but receptacles for the divine names, God is to be
found "in" them. He is thus proximate to them since they only exist by virtue of His selfdisclosures to them. Since this process happens continuously, the things in the universe are
where God is to be "found". The gnostics are therefore perpetually with Him wherever He is to
be found, which is every-where. As for those who are not gnostics, it can be surmised that
they are distant from God insofar as they do not witness Him everywhere.
Types of Proximity
While Ibn 'Arab defines proximity in ways which are truly unique to his metaphysical
worldview, he also devotes a good deal of time to responding to the earlier definitions of
proximity articulated by his Sufi predecessors. Like the Sufis before him, the Shaykh
understands proximity to be "the performance of acts of obedience".7 Presumably, it is in the
very fulfilment of the acts prescribed by God that proximity to God comes about. Indeed,
the hadth al-nawfil says that the servant does not approach God with anything more beloved
to Him than that which He has made incumbent upon him. Obeying God's command therefore
entails proximity to Him because fulfilling His requests brings about His love for us, and we are
resultantly drawn nearer to Him in loving obedience to His commands. Ibn 'Arab, as we shall
see, understands proximity in the truest sense of the term to be just this. But he makes it
quite clear that proximity through obeying God does not necessarily lead one to proximity to

God. Some people who worship God are rather "proximate" to their ultimate felicity in
Paradise, escaping damnation in the next life.8 This type of proximity, Ibn 'Arab reminds us,
is "the proximity of the masses (qurb al-'mma)"9 because God is worshipped in order to
attain the felicities of the next world. 10 From this perspective, every moment on earth
punctuated by the performance of religious devotions entails "proximity" since the worshipper
comes closer to his ultimate felicity. This is an important point to keep in mind when reading
Ibn 'Arab's typical way of describing the function of the names in the cosmos in relation to this
notion of proximity:
If it were not for the divine names and their ruling properties in the engendered things
(ahkmuh f al-akwn), the properties of "proximity" and "distance" would not be manifest in
the cosmos. For at each moment every servant must be proximate to a divine name and
distant from another divine name which does not have a ruling property over him at that
moment. If the ruling property of the name which presides over him at the moment and which
is characterized by proximity to him grants the servant escape from misery and the attainment
of felicity, that is the sought-after proximity according to the Folk.11
Ibn 'Arab consequently identifies three types of proximity. The first type is what he calls
proximity through knowing God by way of rational consideration (nazar).12 He notes that one
could either be right or wrong in this endeavour.13 The diligent one (mujtahid) is nonetheless
rewarded, in keeping with the Prophet's saying that the one who gives a correct legal opinion
receives two rewards, whereas the person who gives an incorrect legal opinion receives one
reward.14 The other type of proximity is to know God's oneness and divinity through
witnessing (shuhd), which we treated in the previous section. The third type of proximity is
proximity through performing acts which are mandatory and ones which are recommended,
both inwardly and outwardly.15 It is the third type of proximity, that is, proximity through
actions, with which Ibn 'Arab is most concerned.
Although the Shaykh speaks in the beginning of this chapter of proximity through the
performance of acts of religious devotion as being proximity to felicity, he goes on to discuss
another aspect of this type of proximity. It is here that he demonstrates how proximity
through the performance of religious actions also entails proximity to God. Yet an "action" for
Ibn 'Arab need not necessarily be "good" in order for it to bring one nearer to God. All actions
both good and evil are preceded by the "act of faith", which itself entails proximity:
As for proximity through actions, it refers to outward knowledge which is what is connected to
the bodily limbs and inward knowledge which is what is connected to the soul. The most
general of inward actions is faith in God and what comes from it by way of the teaching of the
Messenger, not knowledge of that. The "act" of faith ('amal al-mn) permeates all actions and
relinquishments, for no believer pursues an act of disobedience, be it outward or inward,
except that there is proximity to God in it because of his faith that it was an act of
disobedience. The believer never commits an evil action without his mixing a righteous action
with it.16
Ibn 'Arab states here that proximity to God is even a natural outcome of a believer's evil
deeds. Although a believer's actions may be evil, he nonetheless believes in their evil status.
Such actions are, therefore, both evil and righteous at one and the same time. In keeping with
Ibn 'Arab's understanding of the fundamental principiality of God's mercy, the evil act of the

believer not only entails proximity to God, but it actually opens up for him the possibility to
increase in proximity after repenting to Him.17
Ibn 'Arab places a great deal of emphasis on not only the "act" of faith, but also the "act"
itself, whether it be the performance of something mandatory or supererogatory. A religious
action can only be a means to attaining proximity because the entire act is in place in order to
gain proximity to God. Whereas one may believe that an action is wrong and nonetheless
perform it and yet still be characterized by proximity despite the performance of the evil act,
the performance of a pious act will bring the servant that much closer to God.18
Qurb al-Far'id and Qurb al-Nawfil
Earlier in this chapter Ibn 'Arab quotes one version of the famous hadth al-nawfil where God
says that those seeking proximity to Him (al-mutaqarrabn) approach Him with nothing more
beloved to Him than their performing what He has made incumbent upon them. Ibn 'Arab's
citation of the hadth al-nawfil ends as follows, "The servant continues to draw close to Me by
performing supererogatory acts of worship until I love him. And when I love him, I "become"
his hearing, sight, hand, and helper."19 In connection with his discussion on the hadth alnawfil Ibn 'Arab makes a fundamental distinction between two types of proximity. There is
the qurb al-far'id (proximity through obligatory works) and the qurb al-nawfil(proximity
through supererogatory works). In the following passage he states that the qurb alfar'id comes about through the observance of the acts commanded by God, which is preceded
by the fundamental obligation of faith in Him:
The validating condition for the acceptance of every obligatory act is the obligation of faith.
Then the servant may draw near by carrying out the obligatory acts. Whoever acquires its
fruits, he will "become" a hearing and sight for the Real. The Real [will then] will by his will,
without his knowing that his will is God's will for the thing to occur. But if he knows, then he is
not a possessor of this station. This is the scale of the performance of obligatory acts, which is
the most beloved thing through which one gains proximity to God.20
Then Ibn 'Arab goes on to explain the nature of the qurb al-nawfil:
As for the proximity [which is referred to as proximity through] supererogatory acts, God also
loves this, and God's love requires that the Real "become" the servant's hearing and sight.
This is its [i.e. love's] scale in the proximity of supererogatory acts. When the levels of love
are distinguished in the lover, the latter is called "lover" and "more beloved". 21
As the first of the above two passages reveals, it is through the performance of obligatory acts
that one may draw closer to God. The hadth al-nawfilstates clearly that there is nothing
more beloved to God than "fulfilling what I have made obligatory upon him." Thus, by
performing what God has made obligatory, one attains a level of proximity to God which
cannot be attained in any other way. And, unlike the last part of the hadth al-nawfilwhich
states that after performing the supererogatory acts God will "become" the servant's hearing,
sight, and hand, in the performance of those acts which God has made obligatory upon the
servant, it is actually the servant who will "become" God's hearing, sight, and hand. As
paradoxical as this may seem, there is a very good reason for why Ibn 'Arab says this. Before
venturing there, we must look at Ibn 'Arab's teachings on distance, which are intimately

related to the foregoing discussion. We will then be in a better position to understand his
distinction between the qurb al-far'id and thequrb al-nawfil.
Ibn 'Arab on Distance
Ibn 'Arab begins chapter 261 of the Futht, simply entitled "On knowing distance", by
observing that "distance" varies in accordance with changes in states. More importantly, he
says that distance comes about when proximity is not a quality of the servant, this being
essential because God Himself, as Ibn 'Arab explained in chapter 260 of the Futht, is
characterized by proximity. If the quality of proximity is not present "distance" is
present.22Ibn 'Arab then directly addresses the definition of distance provided by his Sufi
predecessors, hinting at his unique understanding of this concept:
What they have affirmed distance to be is, without doubt, distance. It is just that we add
matters to its definition, about which the community was ignorant because they were unaware
of that about which we speak. For they did not speak of it in relation to knowing distance [as
such], and instead had it enter into the discussion on proximity by saying that proximity is
union (ijtim') and distance is separation (iftirq), and that what relates to union does not
relate to separation, thus taking distance to be other than proximity.23
Distance is a complex concept for Ibn 'Arab. On the one hand it is the opposite of proximity
but on the other hand it is the "situation" of the slave, since he is distant from God by his very
nature. When an Arabic triliteral root structure is manipulated by reversing the consonants of
which it is comprised, closely connected semantic fields of meaning are created, as is seen in
the triliteral structures '-L-M, signifying "knowledge" and the structure '-M-L, signifying
"action". Although Ibn 'Arab does not draw attention to this fact in this chapter, it is worth
noting that the word for "servant" in Arabic is derived from the root '-B-D. When the first two
consonants of this root are reversed, we come up with the root for distance, B-'-D. There is,
therefore, an important relationship between distance from God and being a servant of God.
The definition of proximity as being the fulfilment of acts of obedience is valid. Yet the very
state of being obedient to God, of therefore being His slave, also entails distance:
The servant is not a master of the one whose servant he is. There is nothing more distant than
the servant's distance from his master. Servanthood is not on account of the state of
proximity. The servant is only "near" his master by virtue of his knowledge that he is the
master's servant. His knowledge that he is the master's servant is not servanthood itself.
Servanthood necessitates distance from the master, whereas knowledge of one's servanthood
necessitates proximity to the master. 24
Ibn 'Arab states explicitly that the fact of one's servanthood entails some type of distance
from God. In serving God, that is, in the act of servanthood, there must always be distance
between the performer and the one for whom the service is performed. Yet in order to
approach God distance must be relinquished. How can this be attained? Ibn 'Arab sees a
solution in Ab Yazd Bastm's (d. ca. 261/874) famous encounter with God:
The Real said to him in his heart, "O Ab Yazd, approach Me through that which I do not
have: lowliness and poverty." He negated these two qualities lowliness and poverty from
Himself. What is negated from Him is the quality of distance from Him.25

By approaching God with what He does not have, that is, by realizing one's ontological
poverty, one may relinquish that distance characteristic of servanthood which itself implies
some notion of duality. Ibn 'Arab further remarks on Ab Yazd's encounter:
Ab Yazd said to his Lord on another occasion, "How may I approach you?", to which the Real
replied, "Leave yourself and come!" When he left himself, he relinquished the ruling property
of his servanthood ('ubdiyya), since servanthood is itself distance from masterhood
(sayyda). The servant was distant from the Master and thus sought from Him, in lowliness
and poverty, proximity to Him through servanthood, and sought from Him, in leaving his self,
proximity to Him by taking on the character traits of God, which is what constitutes "union".26
Here, Ibn 'Arab seems to acknowledge that a type of proximity is still implied in servanthood,
which, as we shall shortly see, appears to correspond to the qurb al-nawfil. Yet insofar as
God is doing the act there can be no question of "servanthood". This is precisely what the qurb
al-far'id entails: the servant "becomes" God's hearing, sight, and hand because the servant is
"not". We saw above that Ibn 'Arab said that the servant's knowledge of his servanthood is
not actually servanthood. He also said that if the servant knows that God's will is actually his
will in the qurb al-far'id, he will not have attained its station. This is because in knowing one's
servanthood one is not "distant" as such, but one is still not faithfully fulfilling the qurb alfar'id. To know of one's servanthood is to be "aware" of one's self, which, although not
distance according to Ibn 'Arab, nonetheless does not entail that pure state of proximity
where the servant "becomes" God's hearing, sight, and hand. In a footnote to his translation
of one of the Mawqif of 'Abd al-Qdir al-Jaz'ir (d.1300/1883), Michel Chodkiewicz explains
the difference between the qurb al-far'id and the qurb al-nawfil:
If, in the qurb al-nawfil (obtained by the practice of supererogatory acts, where by definition
the will of the creature plays a part), Allh hears, sees ... in the place of the servant,
correlatively, in the qurb al-far'id (which the creature attains by manifesting his absolute
servitude that is to say, his radical ontological indigence by the accomplishment of
obligatory acts, where his own will is totally extinguished), it is, on the contrary, the servant
who "becomes" the hearing, the sight and hand of Allh. 27
Ibn 'Arab also said that the qurb al-far'id entails God willing through the believer. This is
because, in fulfilling what God has made obligatory upon him, the servant actually does not
have a will. It is God who has willed for him to fulfil his obligation towards Him, and, therefore,
He wills in place of the servant, and the servant, by virtue of no longer having a will,
"becomes" God's hearing, sight, and hand, for God is the true actor. In the qurb al-nawfil, the
reason God "becomes" his hearing, sight, and hand is because He acts out a reality that has
always been the case,28 but in which the servant has some "extra" role to play. Insofar as this
extra role played by the servant is his servanthood, his proximity to God through the nawfil is
also distance. That is, in the qurb al-nawfil which comes about through the performance of
those acts which are not mandatory he "wills" to perform. This is why Ibn 'Arab insists that
the qurb al-far'id is "more beloved" to God than the qurb al-nawfil:
God has attributed "more beloved" to Himself in His saying, "[My servant does not approach
Me] with anything more beloved to Me than performing what I have made obligatory upon
him." Concerning supererogatory acts, He said, "[My servant continues to draw close to Me by

performing supererogatory acts of worship until] I love him", without giving it superiority [i.e.
to the performance of obligatory actions].29
Elsewhere in the Futht Ibn 'Arab identifies the far'id with the ascending realization and
the nawfil with the descending realization.30 If the qurb al-far'id corresponds to the ascent
and the qurb al-nawfil corresponds to the descent, then we can understand why Ibn 'Arab
referred to the "arc ofqurb" in the very title of chapter 260: the arc of proximity is the infinite
interplay between the servant's proximity and distance. Although his servanthood allows him
to approach the Real, it is likewise that very thing which keeps him distant from Him. Yet, by
approaching God through the performance of obligatory actions, one "ascends" to the Real to
the point of proximity to Him, so long as one is unaware of his ascent, for his awareness of his
ascent would also be a type of distance. In other words, an acknowledgment of one's
proximity to the Real presupposes some type of knowledge of this fact, which necessarily
entails distance. Some of the early Sufis, such as Ab Sa'd al-Kharrz (d. 286/899) and alNiffar (d. 354/965), understood the highest stage of proximity to be silence.31 Although Ibn
'Arab does not explicitly say this here, it would seem that the qurb al-far'id entails silence
insofar as the servant does not know of his situation in the performance of the far'id; that is,
insofar as God wills through him, and he "becomes" God's hearing, sight, etc. To the extent
that the servant is "silent" in his ontological poverty in the far'id, he is proximate to God, or,
rather, He is proximate to Himself.
I would like to thank Todd Lawson and Ali Galestan for their comments on earlier drafts of this
paper.
Reproduced from the Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society, Volume 41, 2007.

Notes
1. Muhy al-Dn b. al-'Arab, Al-Futht al-makkiyya (Beirut: Dr al-dir, n.d.), II.258. As
Michel Chodkiewicz notes in the introduction to volume two of the very important collection of
translations from the Futht (The Meccan Revelations, vol. II, ed. Michel Chodkiewicz, trans.
Cyrille Chodkiewicz and Denis Gril, trans. from the original French by David Streight (New
York: Pir Press, 2004), p. 9), Ibn 'Arab will return to the theme of the two bow-lengths in
chapters 427 (IV.3940) and 439 (IV.513) of the Futht. However, Ibn 'Arab's treatment of
this topic in these chapters is beyond the scope of this paper, as are his other discussions
concerning his technical notion of the maqm al-qurba, elucidated in the Futht (i.e. chapters
73 and 161, both of which have been analyzed and partially translated by Cyrille Chodkiewicz
in the aforementioned volume, The Meccan Revelations, pp. 22942), and in his short treatise
entitled Kitb al-qurba, to be found in Ras'il Ibn 'Arab, ed. Mahmd Ghurb (Beirut: Dr aldir, d97), pp. 8895. For Ibn 'Arab's teachings on the maqm al-qurba, see also Michel
Chodkiewicz's Seal of the Saints: Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn 'Arab,
trans. Liadain Sherrard (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, d93), passim. In this paper I have
confined myself to an analysis of Ibn 'Arab's treatment of
theahwl of qurb and bu'd respectively, which should, at any rate, be studied independent of
his teachings on qurba in such a preliminary analysis as the one being offered here. It should
also be noted that, taken as a whole, William Chittick has translated more than a quarter of
chapters 260 and 261 of the Futht in his The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn 'Arab's
Metaphysics of Imagination (Albany: State University of New York Press, d89), pp. 15152;

3d; 330; 36566, and in his article "Ethical Standards and the Vision of Oneness: The Case of
Ibn al-'Arabi", in Mystics of the Book: Themes, Topics and Typologies, ed. R.H. Herrera (New
York: Peter Lang, d91), p. 374. Although Chittick's translations helped me figure out several
difficult passages, all the translations from the Futht in this paper are my own.
2. For early Sufi teachings on the Prophet's Night Journey and Ascension, see Fredrick Colby
(trans. and ed.), The Subtleties of the Ascension: Early Mystical Sayings on Muhammad's
Heavenly Journey (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2006).
3. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.258.
4. For this teaching in Ibn 'Arab, see Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, pp. 28388.
5. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.560.
6. Ibid., II.558.
7. For early Sufi definitions of proximity as being "the performance of acts of obedience", see
al-Shibl's saying in Muhammad b. Ibrhm al-Kalbdh,Al-ta'arruf li-madhhab ahl altasawwuf, ed. Mahmd Naww (Cairo: Makatabat al-Kulliyyat al-Azhariyya, 1969), p. 127;
Ab Nasr al-Sarrj, Kitb al-luma' f al-tasawwuf, ed. Kmil Mustaf al-Hindw (Beirut: Dr alKutub al-'Ilmiyya, 2001), p. 53; Ab al-Qsim al-Qushayr, Al-Rislat al-Qushayriyya, ed. 'Abd
al-Karm al-'At'(Damascus: Maktabat Abanfa, 2000), p. 157.
8. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.558.9. Ibid.10. Ibid.11. Ibid., II.55859; see also II.560.
12. Ibid., II.559.13. Ibid.14. Ibid15. Ibid.16. Ibid.
17. Ibid. For Ibn 'Arab's understanding of repentance, see Atif Khalil, "Ibn 'Arab on the Three
Conditions of Tawba". Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 17/4 (2006): 40316.
18. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.559.
19. Ibid. As Michel Chodkiewicz has recently shown, the second fasl or section of the
six fusl of Ibn 'Arab's Al-Futht al-makkiyya (the fasl al-mu'malt, corresponding to
chapters 74188 of the Futht), is entirely based on al-Qushayr's (d.465/107273)
arrangement of the Maqmt in theRisla. See Michel Chodkiewicz, "Mi'rj al-kalima de
la Risla Qushayriyya aux Futht Makkiyya", in Reason and Inspiration in Islam: Theology,
Philosophy and Mysticism in Muslim Thought (Essays in Honour of Hermann Landolt), ed. Todd
Lawson (London and New York: I.B. Tauris in association with the Institute of Ismaili Studies,
2005), pp. 24861. However, the chapters devoted to qurb and bu'd (chapters 260 and 261)
belong to the third fasl (thefasl al-ahwl). It can be noted that, like al-Qushayr (cf. n. 7
above), Ibn 'Arab deals with the question of proximity as being the performance of religious
obligations. And he draws upon the hadth al-nawfil in his discussion of proximity, as does alQushayr in his Risla (op. cit., pp. 15758). In fact, amongst all of the early manuals of
Sufism, the Risla seems to be the only one to do this. It would be safe to conclude, therefore,
that at least in his treatment of the state of proximity in chapter 260 of the Futht, Ibn 'Arab
had al-Qushayr's chapter on qurb and bu'd from the Risla in mind and was further

elucidating al-Qushayr's silences concerning the true state of proximity. This is not to suggest
that in chapter 260 of the Futht Ibn 'Arab is simply "commenting" upon al-Qushayr's
chapter in the Risla. This, as Chodkiewicz (op. cit., p. 251) cautions with respect to the
second fasl of theFutht and the section devoted to the Maqmt in the Risla, is far from
being the case. Rather, it is to point out how closely associated Ibn 'Arab's teachings are with
the Sufi tradition which preceded him.
20. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.559.21. 22. 23 24 2526. Ibid. 27. Michel Chodkiewicz, The Spiritual
Writings of Amir 'Abd El Kader (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), p. 209, n.
84.
28. Ibid.29. Ibn 'Arab, Futht, II.559.
30. See Chodkiewicz, The Spiritual Writings of Amir 'Abd El Kader, p. 209, n. 84.
31. Ab Sa'd al-Kharrz, Kitb al-ift, translated in Paul Nwyia, Exgse coranique et
langage mystique (Beirut: Dar el-Machreq,1970), p. 264; Muhammad b. 'Abd al-Jabbr alNiffar, The Mawqif and Mukhtabt of Muhammad b. 'Abd al-Jabbr al-Niffar, ed. and trans.
A.J. Arberry (London: Cambridge University Press, 1935), p. 3.

The Wisdom of Animals

More than any other Muslim thinker, Ibn 'Arabi dedicated his teachings to clarifying the
presence of the divine wisdom in all things and the human necessity of conforming to that
wisdom. The arguments he offers are at once metaphysical and scriptural, cosmological and
psychological, scientific and ethical. He addresses every dimension of human and cosmic
existence and speaks constantly of the inherent goodness of all of creation and the human
duty to respect the rights (huqq) of all creatures not simply the rights of God and the rights
of our fellow beings. If there is a single scriptural theme to his writings, after tawhd, it is
certainly the prophetic saying: "Give to each that has a right (haqq) its right". He reads this in
conjunction with the Quranic insistence that God created the universe and everything within
it bi'-l-haqq, that is, by means of and through the right, the real, the appropriate, the true. He
understands this to mean that everything in the universe is right, true, and real. Human
beings, however, are not necessarily given the insight to recognize the truth and rightness of
all things. In order to achieve such recognition, they need prophetic guidance, and only then
can they live a life that is right, true, and appropriate. That right and appropriate life demands
that they respond rightly and appropriately to the rightness and appropriateness of all things
to the extent of human capacity. In other words, the divine wisdom that has created human
beings has imposed upon them the duty of "giving to everything that has a right its right".

One of the many sides to Ibn 'Arabi's project of clarifying the rights and truths of all things is
cosmology, that is, the explication of the nature of the universe, with its diverse types and
sorts of creatures. One should not, of course, confuse the traditional notion of cosmology with
what goes by this name in modern times. Today, when scientists speak of cosmology, they
mean physical cosmography that is, the structure of the universe as perceived by means of
the technological tools and mathematical theories of modern physics. Physics can only deal
with what is traditionally called the "visible" or "corporeal" realm, and the visible realm is the
surface or skin of the cosmos. The cosmos, in Islamic terms, is not simply physical
manifestation. Rather, the word cosmos ('lam) designates "everything other than God" (m
siwa'llh). It follows that "cosmology" in the proper sense of the word must explain not only
the nature of the visible realm (shadda), but also that of the invisible realms (ghayb), which
are infinitely more extensive than what we can perceive with our senses, even if these are
aided by the most sophisticated instruments.
Ibn 'Arabi's most famous cosmological scheme is that of the Breath of the All-Merciful (nafas
al-rahmn), in which he elucidates Quranic references to the speech of God. The Quran tells us
in several verses that God brings things into existence simply by saying "Be!" to them, and
that God's words are in effect infinite if all the oceans were ink, and all trees were pens,
God's words would not run out (Q.18:109, 31:27). Ibn 'Arabi explains God's words on the
analogy of our own words, which are also inexhaustible, at least potentially. We bring the
words out from our awareness, just as God brings His words out from His infinite knowledge.
We articulate words in our breath just as God articulates words in His all-Merciful Breath. Our
words disappear as quickly as we utter them, just as God's words are evanescent. "Everything
perishes but His face", says the Quran, and Ibn 'Arabi insists that this rule applies to every
moment of every existent thing. It follows that each moment of existence, each moment of
each thing, is a new creation, a new articulation of the thing's existence. Failing this new
articulation, God's words the universe would simply disappear, for nothing can exist
without constant divine support.
Ibn 'Arabi devotes Chapter 198 of al-Futht al-makkiyya, one of the longer chapters of the
book, to the Breath of the all-Merciful. He takes the Arabic alphabet as representing twentyeight primordial divine letters. In order to create the cosmos, with all its invisible and visible
levels, God composes words and sentences and books employing those twenty-eight letters.
The outline of this cosmological scheme is well known Titus Burckhardt wrote a little book
describing it many years ago. Each of the twenty-eight letters corresponds to several things,
including one of the divine names and one category of creature. Some of the letters represent
creatures that appear on the descending arc of existence, the movement from the invisible
realms into the semi-visible realm of receptivity in which the visible cosmos is born. Other
letters represent creatures that appear on the ascending arc of existence, which begins in
visibility and then returns to the invisible realms of spirit and consciousness from which it
arose. On this returning arc, the twenty-seventh letter represents human beings, and the
twenty-eighth designates the stations and stages of perfection achieved by those human
beings who enter into the presence of God. The twenty-sixth letter represents the jinn, and
the twenty-fifth the angels, inasmuch as these are creatures that are present in the invisible
realms of the returning arc. Letters 23 through 25 designate the visible creatures, that is,
minerals, plants, and animals. Notice that modern cosmology deals almost exclusively with the
twenty-third letter of the alphabet, the other twenty-seven letters lying outside the realm of
its competence. This is why it hardly deserves the name "cosmology".

Today I want to look at the twenty-fifth cosmic letter in an attempt to sum up Ibn 'Arabi's
understanding of the role of animals in creation. In other words, what is the rightful and
truthful situation of the animal realm? How can we as human beings give to animals their
rights? Ibn 'Arabi has a great deal to say about this issue, so I can only make a few quick
comments. I am drawing from the section of Chapter 198 on the twenty-fifth letter, and from
Chapters 357 and 372, both of which announce in their titles that they will address the nature
of bah'im, "the dumb beasts".
***
The word for animal in Arabic is hayawn, "living thing". Given that each of the twenty-eight
letters is governed by one specific divine name, one might guess that the divine name related
to animals would be al-hayy, the Alive, or perhaps al-muhy, "the Life-Giver". This is not the
case, however, and the reason is not too difficult to understand. Ibn 'Arabi tells us repeatedly
that everything in the universe is in fact alive, but that the life of most things is hidden from
our sight. This is so because life is presupposed by every divine quality. Knowledge, power,
desire, mercy, justice, and so on have no meaning unless they are the qualities of something
that is alive. In other words, God must be alive to know, desire, and act. It follows that life
permeates all divine attributes. Hence, life also pervades all creatures, because creatures are
simply the traces and properties of the divine names. Ibn 'Arabi writes,
The name Alive is an essential name of the Real glory be to Him! Therefore, nothing can
emerge from Him but living things. So, all the cosmos is alive, for indeed the nonexistence of
life, or the existence of something in the cosmos that is not alive, has no divine support, but
every contingent thing must have a support. So, what you consider to be inanimate is in fact
alive. (Futht, vol.3, p.324, line 20)
In Ibn 'Arabi's way of looking at the universe, all things are living words articulated in the
Breath of the all-Merciful. This is to say that the divine life and the divine mercy are in fact the
same thing. When God says in the Quran, "My mercy embraces everything" (6:156), this
means, according to Ibn 'Arabi, that "He has mercy on the cosmos through life, for life is the
sphere of the mercy that embraces everything" (Futht 2:107.25).
Elsewhere he explains that everything in the three visible realms that is, minerals, plants,
and animals is under the control of the angels called "souls" (nufs). By means of their
souls, all creatures receive life from God and also know Him. People refer to things as
"animals", that is, hayawn, "living things", only when they perceive the obvious signs of life.
"But", says Ibn 'Arabi,
All are pervaded by life, so they speak the praise of their Creator from whence we do not
hear. God teaches them things through their innate disposition (fitra) from whence we do not
know. So there remains nothing wet or dry, hot or cold, inanimate, plant, or animal, that does
not glorify God with a tongue specific to its kind. (Futht 2:678.14)
The universal glorification of God is a frequent theme in Ibn 'Arabi's writings. He takes the
frequent Quranic references to the speech of things quite literally. In contrast to Muslim
philosophers, theologians, and scientists, he makes no attempt to make a ta'wl of these
verses that is, an "interpretation", or an "explaining away" by having recourse to notions

of metaphor or symbolism. This points to one of his constant critiques of people who follow
their "rational" understanding of things that is, what we know as "common sense". In the
two chapters that talk about dumb beasts, Ibn 'Arabi devotes a good part of the discussion to
showing that rational, commonsense interpretations of Quranic verses about the speech of
inanimate things are misguided.
His basic argument against commonsense interpretations comes from two directions. First, in
order to conclude that things do not talk, people have to claim that God does not mean what
He says in the Quran. Second, Ibn 'Arabi and his peers that is, those whom he commonly
calls the "gnostics" ('uraf') or "the folk of unveiling" (ahl al-kashf) actually hear and
understand the speech of all things, so they know by first-hand experience that everything is
alive. They do not take God's words on faith.
***
In both chapters on dumb beasts, Ibn 'Arabi explains why they have this name, bahma, which
the Arabic dictionaries define as quadruped or animal. Ibn 'Arabi suggests that we can
understand the significance of the term if we remember that it derives from the same root as
mubham, which means dubious, obscure, vague, unclear. For example, in Chapter 378 he
writes,
Each created thing has a specific speech taught to it by God. It is heard by those whose
hearing God has opened up to its perception. All movement and craftsmanship that become
manifest from animals and do not become manifest save from a possessor of reason,
reflection, and deliberation, along with all the measures that are seen therein, signify that
they have a knowledge of this in themselves. (Futht 3:488.4)
Ibn 'Arabi goes on to explain that animals perform many skillful deeds and construct
marvelous things in a manner that suggests that they must be intelligent and rational. Yet
observers cannot perceive any sort of rational faculty within them, so they remain puzzled as
to how animals can do such things. This puzzlement, of course, has not been diminished by
modern science, which still struggles to explain the multifarious skills of animals. So, Ibn 'Arabi
writes,
This may be why they are called "dumb beasts", that is, because of the "obscurity" of the
affair except for us, because it is as clear as it can be. The obscurity that has overcome
some people is because of their lack of unveiling in this, so they know the created things only
in the measure of what they witness from them.
In continuing this discussion, Ibn 'Arabi has recourse to a few Quranic verses to show that
faith is on the side of those who witness the real nature of things through unveiling.
Even though the rational thinkers and the common people say that something in the cosmos is
neither alive nor an animal, in our view God gave every such thing, when He created it, the
innate disposition to recognize and know Him. Each is alive and speaks rationally in glorifying
its Lord. The faithful perceive this through their faith, and the folk of unveiling perceive it in its
actual entity. (Futht 3:489.6)

As is always the case with Ibn 'Arabi's writings, he soon gets around to explaining why we
should be concerned about the fact that all things have knowledge from God and that all
things express their knowledge through speech. Here I can mention one basic lesson, and this
is that the awareness of all things should encourage us to have shame. "Shame" (hay') is not
considered a great virtue nowadays in the West, but it certainly has had an honorable role to
play in many civilizations, not least Islam. The Prophet said, "Every religion has its character
trait [khuluq], and the character trait of Islam is shame" (Ibn Mja, Zuhd 17). Shame is a
close ally of ihsn, "doing the beautiful", which the Prophet described as "worshipping God as
if you see Him". If one acts as if one sees God, shame will be a constant companion. And, if
we understand that all things are aware and all have the ability to speak, this can only
increase our sense of shame. Everything is watching us, and everything has the ability to
speak to God about our activities. Ibn 'Arabi writes,
Someone may come to know that there is no existent thing that is not alive and speaking. In
other words, there is nothing that is not a rational animal, whether it is called inanimate,
plant, or dead. This is because there is nothing, whether or not it stands by itself, that does
not glorify its Lord in praise, and this attribute belongs only to something that is described as
alive.
Once someone comes to witness the life of all things, he will be full of shame, not only when
he is in jalwa, that is, in public with other people, but also when he is in khalwa, that is, alone
in a private retreat. He will see that in fact he is never alone, for he can never escape a
location that surrounds him. And, even if he could escape his surroundings, he would still have
shame before his bodily members and organs, for they are the means whereby he does what
he does. He knows that on the Day of Resurrection, his bodily members will be called to
witness, and they will bear witness truthfully. So, someone like this can never be in khalwa.
"When someone achieves this state", Ibn 'Arabi writes, "he has joined the degree of the dumb
beasts", who are aware of the presence of God.
In short, Ibn 'Arabi maintains that dumb beasts possess an exalted knowledge and
understanding from God, and he concludes that anyone who considers himself superior to the
beasts is ignorant of his own situation. He stresses that such ignorance is characteristic of the
philosophical and theological approaches to Islamic learning not to speak of the modern
scientific disciplines. In short, his advice to his readers if they are not among the folk of
unveiling is as follows:
Consider, O you who are veiled, how your level compares to that of the dumb beasts. The
dumb beasts recognize you, they recognize that to which your situation will go back, and they
recognize that for which you were created. But you are ignorant of all of this. (Futht 3:489.
29)
***
Let me turn to a second topic that Ibn 'Arabi commonly addresses when he talks about
animals. This is related to the specific divine name that exercises its sway over the twenty-fifth
letter of the Breath of the all-Merciful. This name is al-mudhill, the Abaser, which is typically
contrasted with al-mu'izz, the Exalter. People naturally assume that it is much better to be
exalted than to be abased, but Ibn 'Arabi wants to show that animals, who are ruled by the

name Abaser, have a much more exalted position with God than most human beings. This is
precisely because animals gladly accept their abasement, whereas human beings tend to
forget that they are nothing in the face of God. They always want to be something, so they
seek exaltation. By claiming to be what they are not, however, they fall into heedlessness and
they rebel against their own God-given situation. Hence, the most exalted of all human beings
in God's eyes are in fact those who are the most abased before Him. Abasement at root is
nothing other than'ubdiyya, the quality of being an 'abd, a servant or slave. That is why, in
Ibn 'Arabi's reading, the most exalted of all human beings, the perfect human being, is also
"the perfect servant" (al-'abd al-kmil), that is, the most abased of all creatures before God.
In explaining the nature of abasement, Ibn 'Arabi turns to the Quranic notion of taskhr,
"subjection". It is God inasmuch as He is the Abaser who subjects some creatures to other
creatures. In fact, Ibn 'Arabi spends most of the section on animals in the chapter on the
Breath of the all-Merciful unpacking and explaining the reality of subjection. He begins the
section like this:
God says, "We abased [the cattle] to them, and some of them they ride, and some they eat"
[36:72]. He also says, "He subjected to you everything in the heavens and everything in the
earth, all from Him" [45:13], so animals are included in this. This is the ruling property of the
name Abaser in the cosmos... God made some of them subjected to others through the name
Abaser... He says, "He has elevated some of them over others in degrees so that some of
them may take others in subjection" [43:32]. (Futht 2:465.12)
Ibn 'Arabi continues this discussion by pointing out that subjection is two-sided. In other
words, when something is subjected to you, you are subjected to it. He explains how this
works with the example of a king and his subjects. The Quranic verse just cited says that God
has elevated some over others with the "degree" (daraja) that He has given them. In the case
of a king, God has given him the degree of kingship, and this degree allows him to rule over
others. The king subjects his citizens precisely because of the degree, and hence the citizens
are abased before the king and must do what he commands. However, it works the other way
too, for, as Ibn 'Arabi says, "Among the divine names, the Abaser rules over both sides". He
writes,
The degree of the citizens and the subjects requires that they subject the king to themselves,
for he must guard and defend them, fight against their enemies, judge disputes among them,
and seek their rights [huqq]. (Futht 2:465.22)
Ibn 'Arabi then points out that subjection also applies to the relationship between God and
man. The name Abaser rules over both sides. Although man is abased before God, God is also
abased before man. This is a version of Ibn 'Arabi's famous discussion of the mutual
relationship between Lord (rabb) and vassal (marbb), or the God (ilh) and that which is
"godded over" (ma'lh). His explanation runs like this:
God says, "He is God in the heavens and in the earth" [6:3]. He says, "He subjected to you
what is in the heavens and what is in the earth, all together" [45:13]. Luqman said to his son,
"O my son, if it should be but the weight of one grain of mustard-seed, and though it be in a
rock, or in the heavens, or in the earth, God shall bring it forth" [31:16], for God is in the
earth, He is in heaven, He is in the rock, and He is with us wherever we are. The Creator is

never separate from the created thing, nor is the Abaser separate from the act of abasing. If
the two were to be separate, this description would be separate from God, and the name
would disappear.
Ibn 'Arabi then explains that when God says in the Quran, "I created jinn and mankind only to
worship Me" [51:56], this means that He created them to abase themselves before Him, so
He created them with the name Abaser. At the same time, God describes how He guards over
all things and preserves all things. Like the king in the example, God's degree of Godliness
subjects Him to what the cosmos seeks from Him, that is, the preservation of its existence.
In continuing his argument, Ibn 'Arabi explains that God abases human beings by placing
within them the attributes of poverty, indigence, and need. As the Quran says, "O people, you
are the poor toward God, and God He is the Rich, the Praiseworthy" (35:15). Because of
their need, people then become abased before anything in which they see what they need,
and everything needs something else. The cosmos is filled with mutual need, which is in fact
the need of all things for God, whose attributes are displayed in the needed objects. It follows
that it is need that ties all of existence together. The well-being (salh) of the entire cosmos
depends upon need. So, Ibn 'Arabi concludes, with perhaps a touch of hyperbole,
No other name bestows general well-being on the cosmos like the name Abaser, and there is
nothing in the Divine Presence that has a property like this name. Its property permeates this
world and the next world constantly. When the Real allows one of the gnostics to witness it
and when He discloses Himself to the gnostic within it and from it, there is no one among
God's servants more felicitous than he, and no one with more knowledge of God's mysteries
through unveiling. (Futht 2:466.3)
As for the rest of us, the lesson we need to learn from the mutual abasement of all things is to
understand who we are in the cosmic economy. We should never overestimate our own worth.
We should not consider ourselves exalted, because in fact we are abased before the divine
power. Ibn 'Arabi explains this in one of the chapters on the dumb beasts:
Know that even though God has subjected and abased the dumb beasts to man, you should
not be heedless of the fact that you are subjected to them. You look to their well-being by
watering and feeding them, by cleaning their places, by coming into contact with dung and
waste because of them, and by protecting them from the heat and cold that harm them. This
and similar things are because the Real has subjected you to them and has placed need for
them in your soul. ...
So, you have no superiority over them through subjection, for God has made you more needy
of them than they are needy of you. Do you not see how God's Messenger became angry
when he was asked about the stray she-camel? He said, "What is she to you? She has her feet
and her stomach. She will find water and eat from the trees until her master finds her"
(Muslim, Luqta 1).
So, God did not make the animals needy toward you, but He placed within you the need for
them. All dumb beasts that have the means to flee from you will do so, and this is only
because they have no need for you, and they have been given the innate knowledge that you

will harm them. The fact that you search for them and that you exert effort in acquiring things
from them shows that you are needy toward them.
By God, when the dumb beasts have more independence than you, how can it occur to you
that you are superior to them? Very true are the words of him who said, "No man will be
destroyed if he knows his own worth". (Futht 3:490.10)

The Time of Science and the Sufi Science of Time

Physics used to teach us that space is a kind of absolute container, separate from the flow of
time. In this classical or Newtonian conception, objects traveled through or remained
stationary in space, which itself was not subject to change or to internal variations. The three
dimensions of space were the same, always and everywhere. Galileo's observation of the
moons of Jupiter would eventually lead to the fundamental assertion, so damaging to the
prevailing Christian or traditional cosmology of the time, that in fact the laws down here on
earth and the laws up there in the heavens are the very same. Our "space" as we experience it
on earth, according to its inviolable coordinates of width, height, and depth, or the
famous x, y, and z of the Cartesian coordinate system exists uniformly throughout the
universe and is governed by the same rules. With the dismissal of the ether (the fifth element
the celestial spheres were thought to be made of) and the adoption of an atomist theory, the
physical vision of the universe was one of billiard balls colliding in a uniform and static
vacuum, with things like electromagnetism and thermal energy thrown into the mix.
In this conception, time was a measure and nothing more, and was itself assumed to be
constant and unchanging. One used time in frequency and velocity values, but time itself had
nothing essentially to do with the nature of space and certainly nothing to do with physical

objects themselves. The great paradigm shift in physics came with Einstein's special theory of
relativity, which was later to be expanded upon in his general theory of relativity. In addition
to showing that there is no absolute frame of reference for physical measurements, the theory
also demonstrated mathematically that what we ordinarily think of as space and time are
actually intertwining realities or two aspects of the same reality. How we move through
space changes how we move through time, at least depending on the point of observation. If I
travel from Earth for a period of time near the speed of light and then return, a much longer
period of time will have elapsed from Earth's frame of reference than will have elapsed from
my own frame of reference, in some sort of space vehicle for example. Time also changes
depending on how close I am to a strong gravitational field. A clock in orbit high above the
earth, for example, will run slightly slower than an identical clock on the surface of the earth.
Now, many books have been written in the last few decades claiming that the teachings of
Eastern religions such as Buddhism and the finding of modern physics, specifically quantum
mechanics and relativity theory, are really the same, and much is made of the spiritual
significance of this new physics. 2 Though it is a topic for another forum, I believe that the
perceived intersection of physics and mysticism or religion results from a sublimation of
certain hypothetical assumptions of physical data on the one hand, and a denaturing of the
spiritual doctrines on the other. That is to say, certain interpretations of the physical data, such
as the idea that the observer influences the state vector collapse, and the notion of multiple
universes arising out of the actualization of the wave function of particles, are nothing more
than philosophical struggles on the part of physicists and laymen to come to grips with the
data. They are not demanded by the data themselves, which is why many physicists who
agree on the same data have sometimes wildly different models for accounting for those
data.3 On the religious side, one comes across pat explanations of spiritual doctrines taken out
of their traditional context, and Buddhism is reduced to a group of clever insights about our
mind and the nature of the world.
Thus I want to be careful of including the findings of physics in a paper on the experience of
time and non-time at a conference on Ibn al-'Arab. I may joyously proclaim that Ibn al-'Arab
told us in the thirteenth century what physicists claim to have discovered only a few decades
ago, but what happens when the scientists change their minds? After all, despite what the
popular literature and movies tell us, there are enormous lacunae in physics, and for all we
know the spatio-temporal conception ushered in by Einstein may one day itself be overturned
by something as radically different. To give you some examples, quantum mechanics works for
very small things, and relativity works for very big things, but at a certain point in between,
for medium sized things, the theories become incompatible. This was the problem with
Newtonian or classical physics: for many purposes the theory worked just fine, but physicists
were puzzled because it did not work for all observed phenomena. Thus Newtonian equations
will correctly predict how a baseball will travel through space, but it took relativity to correctly
account for the orbit of the planet Mercury. Our present idea of gravity and the mass of the
universe should have the universe flying apart, but since it does not actually do so, physicists
posit dark matter, which accounts for 98 percent of the mass of the universe. The problem is
since we cannot see or measure this dark matter, we do not know what it is, or really if it is
there.
So why start a discussion of time at an Ibn 'Arab Society gathering with physics? Firstly,
despite the fact that classical physics is part of history as far as scientists are concerned, its

world view still dominates the consciousness of the age. It is what is most typically taught in
high school textbooks, and its assumptions are built into popular language about the subject.
The next time you hear someone say "fundamental building blocks of matter" know that such
a notion is completely classical in its origin. All our notions of mass, force, and energy are
usually classical conceptions, that is to say conceptions beginning from the bifurcation of the
world into measurable and subjective knowledge by Descartes, then Galileo's uniformity of the
universal laws, and finally Newton's brilliant synthesis. Moreover, these ideas, together with
the advent of the heliocentric model, was a major force, perhaps the most important force, in
sidelining Christianity in the Western world. First the Church abdicated its claim to having
knowledge of the natural world, and while it spent the next few centuries in the domain of
moral and spiritual questions, scientists gradually reduced the world to physical bits, reduced
man to a hyper developed animal, reduced animals to complex arrangements of atoms, and
reduced consciousness to complex patterns of synaptic activity in the brain. Meanwhile the
philosophers and pseudo-philosophers of scientism were busy trying to convince themselves
and everyone else that truth was provided only by quantitative measurement. The rest was
quality, which fell on the side of subjective feeling, and as we all were supposed to know,
feelings are really just complex instincts, which somehow result from the structure of the
brain, resulting from the structure of DNA, resulting from the happenstance arrangement of
atoms.
Relativity theory and quantum mechanics overturned classical mechanics, which had itself
overturned Christian cosmology. The paradigm shift ushered in by such figures as Einstein,
Max Planck, and Neils Bohr is important because it destroyed the destroyer. Heliocentrism was
erased, because from the point of view of relativity it is nonsense to say that the earth "goes
round" the sun, as it is to say that the sun goes round the earth, because there is no fixed
frame of reference to say which is going around which. The sun's gravitational field is stronger
than the earth's, but the earth does pull on the sun, and because there is no absolute frame of
reference anymore, then certainly it is correct to say the sun goes around the earth.
Geocentrism actually comes out slightly ahead, since it at least corresponds to our experience
from our frame of reference. From the point of view of science, however, we have
lost both geocentrism and heliocentrism.
As for universal laws, we find that things do not behave the same everywhere. For example a
clock seems to run at a different speed high above the earth. Light does not always travel in a
straight line, but seems to bend from different points of reference, because space itself seems
to bend and take on all sorts of shapes depending on the objects in it.
Then we discover that atoms are not mere little balls. Rather, it seems the only way we can
properly describe what seems to be happening on very small scales is through various kinds of
mathematical form, very unlike a little ball. The only reason scientists talk about wave-particle
duality is because the measurements they get look sometimes like a particle, sometimes like a
wave, but they never have nor ever will see what causes those measurements. The
relationships between the "atoms" is mathematically incredibly complex and is more like
threads in a tapestry than balls flying through space, but of course they are neither. The
problem is further complicated by Bell's theorem, which shows entities like electrons to be
connected, as far as we can tell, instantaneously even at distances too great for a light-speed
communication to take place. This is important because relativity theory states that nothing
can travel faster than the speed of light.

Thus the momentousness of heliocentrism, atomist theory, uniformity of spatial laws and time
was shown to be not so momentous after all, but this is lost on popular thinking. Einstein
certainly earned his own fame but did not manage to steal all of Newton's thunder. The most
usual understanding of the natural world is still a classical one.
But I already cautioned myself about too great an enthusiasm for what the new physics
teaches. Indeed it may be that the current paradigm is overturned, but it seems well-nigh
impossible that any such a revolution will bring us closer to the classical conception that
destroyed traditional cosmology in the West. We have already pushed the limits of what we
can actually observe with our own senses, which is to say anything else we observe will be the
effects of experiments together with the mathematical models based on the data of those
experiments. Physicists' eyes are not more powerful than our own; their insight comes through
the mathematical form they derive from the data. Such mathematical models are the very
stuff of physical theory.
The significance of this is not that it elevates one theoretical model above another, but that it
throws into sharp focus the fact that any model of what happens beyond the perceptible world
is as good as any other from the point of view of science, so long as it correctly predicts the
data. The problem with superstring theory, hidden variable theory, many-universe theory, is
that they are all mathematical models based upon the exact same body of data, and they all
predict the data equally well. These models are sometimes so wildly different that any
pretense to some one great scientific conception of the universe must be seen as philosophical
hubris. The precision of the data themselves and the success of the accompanying
mathematics in predicting the behavior of the physical world on small and large scales
indeed the most successful scientific theory to date paradoxically serves to undercut the
assumption that the only real knowledge we can have of things is through scientific
measurement. What we are measuring are things we can never perceive without a
measurement. Classical mechanics usually dealt with ordinary scale objects. If the real
knowledge we have of a baseball is the measurements we can make of it, we are still left with
an object that at least corresponds to an object we actually experience, even if that
experience is merely subjective or even meaningless from the point of view of science. An
electron is an entity no one has, can, or ever will experience. Even if we never perceive a
unicorn in fact, we could in principle.
The key reversal at play is the following: we measure quantum entities, but our knowledge of
them is mediated completely by our ordinary experience of the world, by our pointer-readings,
as Wittgenstein once remarked. I said that the new physics paradoxically undercuts classical
bifurcation because it leaves us with the troubling proposition that our true scientific
knowledge depends for its very survival upon the offices of our subjective, non-scientific
experience. Actually, this was the case in classical mechanics as well, but the fact that
quantum entities are wholly unlike ordinary entities makes the rigid bifurcation into a
subjective world of quality and an objective world of quantity all the more absurd. 4
The situation we are left with is this. The revolution of classical mechanics suffered a counterrevolution, the new physics, which neutralized the sting delivered by the heliocentric model,
uniform space and time, and the classical atomist theory. Though this counter-revolution did
not put traditional cosmology back in its place, it robbed the scientist of his ability to make
absolute statements about what we can know. A man might be lulled into a kind of

complacency about the baseball; perhaps the knowledge provided by scientific

measurement is more true and reliable than his mere experience of the thing. This may not
hold up to philosophical scrutiny, but overlap between the measured baseball and a baseball as
one sees it gives the whole affair an air of respectability. But when the scientist tells us that
true knowledge is measuring things that we cannot see, and that the scientist cannot see
either, it begins to sound too strange to be believed. And of course, it is.
So unlike many of the popular ideas linking the new physics to traditional metaphysics, my
assertion here is simply that science has exposed the fallacy of Cartesian bifurcation and the
alleged supremacy of quantitative knowledge. Science has turned on itself, or more correctly,
the data has betrayed philosophical scientism and exposed its limitations. We have quite
literally come back to our senses.
If we actually pay attention to the difference between quantitative data and physical theory,
we see that science has altogether lost the destructive power to make us denigrate our senses
and the ideas we form from sensory experience. We know that what the scientist says about
time is a modelbased on observations of the world, and that any number of such models
possess equal validity, and all of them are subservient to the real experience of the human
subject. Choosing one model above another is not a scientific decision, but a philosophical one.
Time, like space, is one of the most concrete aspects of our experience of the world. It is not
an abstract entity such as an electron, but a reality so close and intimate that we stumble in
defining it owing to its sheer obviousness. It is a mystery that baffles due to its clarity, not its
obscurity. If a physicist says that time is not what we think but is actually this or that, we can
agree in part and acknowledge that the reality may have aspects of which we are not aware.
However, we always possess the powerful rejoinder that no matter what the data or theory, it
has been formed on the basis of the physicist's ordinary human experience of time and
observations taking place within that experience. Logically, it is impossible to negate the
qualitative time of our own experience without undercutting the basis of the quantitative time
derived through measurement, since no observation is possible without ordinary time and
ordinary space. "Reification" is the problem we get when we put our theories of quantitative
time above qualitative time in our hierarchy of knowledge. I may give a mathematical
description of time utilizing perhaps a symbolic or allegorical use of geometric shapes, but
then become trapped in my own provisional model. Even the word "linear" in linear time is a
model. We make an analogy of some property of our experience of time to the properties of a
physical line in space, i.e., being continuous and existing in two directions. But time is not a
line, a line is a line. Having used the image of a line to enable us to talk about time in a
scientifically useful way, we get trapped by an image which has taken on a life of its own, so to
speak. Then anything other than linear time begins to seem absurd, a violation of time the
way a loop is a violation of a line.
The Cartesian bifurcation which elevates quantitative measurement and theory while
denigrating the real experience of qualities is ultimately absurd, because no model can
repudiate the model-maker and continue to remain meaningful. It would mean that the modelmaker's knowledge of what he is making a model of is dependent upon the knowledge
provided by that very model itself. A bifurcationist physicist discerns a mathematical form in
the data of the world, then says that this mathematical form is more true than the very
perception he used to discern that mathematical form. If by this he meant that the world

manifests laws present in the Intellect or Great Spirit, we could agree, since we perceive those
laws by virtue of participating in that same intellect. But that is not an idea the philosophers of
scientism would be willing to entertain.

Let me now leave off the space-time continuum of physics and come to the soul's qualitative
and lived experience of these realities we call space and time. Space and time appear to us to
be two modes of extension, or in simpler terms two ways in which things are spread out in
relationship to each other. Spatially things are here and there, and temporally things are
before and after. In another essay I discussed at length this notion of space and time as
extension, and I do not wish to duplicate that discussion here. 5 My purpose here is to establish
a link between space and time that is not at all based on relativity theory, but arises from our
living experience. Although in the classical conception which so often dominates our minds
space and time are seen as two separate and unlike things, the truth is that time is impossible
without space, and space is impossible without time. I do not make this assertion from the
point of view of physical science, but from within the world of the metaphysics of Ibn al-'Arab
and similar metaphysical systems.
Let us first ask what the world would be like if there were only space, but no time. The first
thing that we would notice is that change would become impossible. Think of a group of
objects existing in space, and then think of them existing in a different arrangement. In order
for them to go from the first arrangement to the second one, something has to happen. They
have to at the very least traverse the distances necessary to arrive at the second
arrangement, but how can they do that if there is only space and no time? Something has to
ontologically link the two arrangements. Even if somehow they do not traverse the distance in
between, the objects are still the same objects, and the only thing allowing us to call them the
same objects in the two different arrangements is a reality that allows the objects to change
but retain some kind of continuity. This connecting dimension is time.
Let us then ask what the world would be like if there were time but no space. Since there
would be no spatial extension to observe, we would somehow have to measure time with our
subjective experience in the absence of height, width, and depth. How would we know that
there even was a course of time? Feelings have no dimension perhaps, but what about the rest
of the soul? The images in our imagination, never mind the objects of the objective world, all
have spatial extension, so we would have to disallow them in a world without space. That is to
say, time implies a kind of inward space in the soul a different kind of space to be sure
that makes it meaningful to speak of before and after, a referent that is constant in the face of
change.
Let us as an exercise try to erase the words "space" and "time" from our minds and come back
at the question. We notice that in life there are things that change and things that stay the
same, and often the very same things seem to change and stay the same but in different
respects. The baseball is the same baseball, both in the hand of the pitcher and in the glove of
the catcher, but it is not wholly the same because some things about it are different, such as
its location and its relationship to the things around it. We can talk about things that are
constant and changing, or static and dynamic. (In Arabic the relevant terms
are qrr and ghayr al-qrr.)

But I do not wish to encumber myself from the beginning with technical language. For now I
simply have the "constant" and the "changing". I, too, am constant and changing. I am the
same person but I am always becoming this or that, experiencing all sorts of colors and
sounds and shapes in addition to my emotions, and yet the constant identity abides. In the
statement, "I was sad, then I found my true love, and then I was happy," thethen does not
split the I into parts. It does not erase the identity.
Such paradoxes of the many in the one, and the one in the many, really form the basis of Ibn
al-'Arab's metaphysics, and make a good point of departure for an analysis of time and nontime. At the highest level, the mystery of the many and the one is the identity between the
Ultimate Reality and the many things we usually think of as being real in and of themselves.
The ontological status of things in relation to the ultimate reality is a question for metaphysics,
but the mystery of the many and one also plays out in cosmology, meaning the study of the
world in which the puzzles of constancy and change arise.
At the highest level of Akbarian thought, the manyness of the divine qualities is resolved in the
unity of the supreme Self. This is not a unity of "before" and "after", where I might say that all
qualities are happening right now; nor is it a unity of "here" and "there", where I might say
that all qualities are in one place. Rather it is a unity of being, of identity. The Creator is not
another being than the Just or the All-Merciful. They are unified in what they truly are, and
mysteriously the world's illusory reality disappears in the face of this essential unity.
Now, Akbarians do not throw away manyness, but put it in its place, and from our point of
view in the world the many divine qualities and their relationships to one another are of the
greatest significance. The manyness of the qualities is unreal only for the supreme Self, but for
us this manyness is as real as we are, so to speak. In fact, we depend on this manyness for
whatever illusory reality we possess, because it is by virtue of the divine names and qualities
and their relationships that the world comes to be. How, then, does this one in the many,
many in the one, play out in the world?
There is no shortage of ideas that Ibn al-'Arab and his school use to describe how the divine
qualities give rise to the world. Some of the most important are emanation (fayd), selfdisclosure (tajall), identification (ta'ayyun). For this talk I want to use the symbolism of light,
and the divine name "Light" or al-Nr. Mystics and philosophers have often started with light,
and its symbolism is so powerful because light is both what we see and what we see by. Light
is both a means and an end. If we apply the symbolism of light to all knowledge, light is both
what we know and how we know. It is, moreover, a symbol that Ibn al-'Arab and his school
often used as a metaphysical basis, the same way they could use the concepts of mercy and
existence.
The Quran says, God is the Light of the heavens and the earth (24:35). The heavens and the
earth are the realm of the constant and the changing, so let us say that God is the light of the
constant and the changing, making God what we know the constant and the changing by. This
leaves us to ask what the constant and the changing are. Each and every thing is, ultimately, a
manifestation of a name of God. God knows His endless names, and this knowledge is the
realm of the immutable identities, the al-a'yan al-thabitah. Each immutable identity is a
special way in which God knows God, but God's knowledge of Himself is neither before and
after nor here or there. It introduces neither distance nor duration between His names.

But if the identities are essences or forms in the knowledge of God that are separated neither
by distances nor durations, how do we get to the situation where these identities, when they
are in the world, do get separated by distance and duration? In God's knowledge the identities
are immutable, but in the world they are what we are calling constant and changing. They are
here and there, and they are before and after. The baseball is here, not over there. Or, the
baseball is here now, but it was not here earlier. This does not happen in God's knowledge.
The immutable identities are different but not apart. There is an immutable identity for the
pitcher and an immutable identity for the catcher, but they exist eternally in God's act of
knowing, fused but not confused, to borrow Meister Eckhart's language.
Akbarian cosmogenesis is a two-tiered emanation, or self-disclosure which first gives rise to
the immutable identities in God's knowledge, and then externalizes or existentiates them in
the world. There is a way in which these two identities, one manifest and the other
unmanifest, are two different things, and another way in which they are simply the same thing
viewed from two different points of view. When God's light illuminates the immutable identities
which we can reword and say when God as the Light meets with God as the Knower the
result is the world. In a sense the immutable identities are dark, because as independent
beings they are nothing. They are only God's knowledge of Himself. The divine light is a gift
that illuminates the identities and gives them their own reality. This light allows there to be
something "other than God", this phrase "other than God" being Ibn al-'Arab's definition of the
world, because by being illuminated the identities can see each other, and see themselves, and
by "see" I mean "know".
Now, in the world this light by which we are illuminated to each other is none other than the
very realities of duration and distance. What we give the name "space" is a state of affairs
where the forms of things exist in a kind of relationality to each other, separated and yet
existing in the same domain and thus connected in a kind of continuum. What we give the
name "time" is a state of affairs where forms exist in a different kind of relationality, where
even a single given thing is able to be separated from its previous state and yet still be
connected to those states by virtue of its being a single thing. Thus its states also exist in a
kind of continuum. God's light in static mode is space, and His light in dynamic mode is time.
The identities themselves are not space and time, for the identities are pure forms in the
knowledge of God, but when God casts His light upon them they enter into the dance of spatial
and temporal interaction we call the world. This light enables the realities of sound, color,
shape, smell, feeling, number, mass, and energy to connect and manifest the forms. Light is
the vessel, both in static and dynamic mode, upon which the identities journey in between the
plenary darkness of God's knowledge on the one hand and the uninhabitable darkness of pure
nothingness on the other.
This is one possible understanding of the divine saying where God says, "Do not curse time,
for I am time." By cursing time, we are in reality cursing the light of God, which is identical
with Himself. It is by God giving of Himself, of His light, that our existence as beings going
through changing states is even possible. But it then follows that one could also say that God
is space. Islamic metaphysics does not have, to my knowledge, a classification of space as it
does of time. As I am sure will be widely discussed in this conference, there is a distinction
made between sarmad, dahr, and zamn, or eternity, sempiternity, and ordinary time. But if
what I am saying about the divine light is true, is it not equally true to say that God is space?

In the bodily world the divine light shines in a certain mode, far short of all the possibilities of
divine illumination. The light is relatively dim, and though I see myself and others, I cannot
see much, and the wholeness and connectedness of things is largely hidden in a darkness that
is yet to be illuminated. The possibilities of this world are basically limited, at least in our
ordinary experience, to the usual dimensions of space and time. Akbarian metaphysics teaches
that the imaginational world, the world ontologically superior to the world of bodies, is more
illuminated. In that world, the rules governing the constant and the changing, or distance and
duration, are not the same. Remember that the imaginational world, like the world of bodies,
is still a world of extension, which is to say that it is a world of manifested forms of shapes,
colors, duration, changing states. But because it is so luminous, the possibilities for the
interaction of the constant and the changing are much greater. The forms in the imaginational
world are indeed not limited by bodily space and time, though there is an imaginational space
and an imaginational time. Recall the saying that the bodily world in relation to the
imaginational world is like a ring tossed into a vast wilderness. Rm declares that there is a
window between hearts, meaning that we are connected to each other at the level of our
souls, both across space and across time. True believers can have dreams foretelling the
future, and great saints can meet in spirit if not in body. These wonders do not take place by
virtue of bodily existence, but by virtue of the imaginational world, the world of souls.
Not only do the conditions of space and time change from bodily to imaginational existence,
but they change from this world to the next, from theduny to the khirah. This is what
Dwd al-Qaysar means when he says that there are some divine names whose governance
of the world lasts for a certain duration. That is to say, there is a certain way in which the
divine light manifests the forms in our ordinary earthly life, but at the end of the world the
cycle of that kind of light, of that particular divine name, will come to a close. The hereafter
will then be governed by another divine name, another kind of divine light. That which is
impossible here will be possible there because the divine light will illuminate ever more
possibilities for the interplay of forms and identities. Space itself will be greater and more
infinite, time itself will be infused with greater barakah and potential for realizing the selfdisclosures of God.

Thus far I have been discussing the ontological status of time together with space, because I
think the two are inseparable insofar as they are two modes of the divine light as far as
worldly existence is concerned. But what does the reality of time mean for the spiritual
journey of the soul?
If we take Ibn al-'Arab's metaphysics and cosmology to their logical conclusion, I believe we
can say the following. God created us as a freely given gift, simply so that we who were not
could be, that we who were nothing could be living beings. But at the same time God
experiences all of our pains and our joys, our stupidity and our wisdom, our fear and our
courage with us in a mysterious way. Recall the hadth where God says, "I was sick, and you
did not visit Me," (Muslim 4661) and the Quranic verse "Those who hurt God and His
Messenger " (33:57). Yet for God there is no pain, stupidity, or fear, because God is not
confined to the moment of suffering. He knows the whole life. God does not move down the
line with us as we do, although He lives what we live. God could never suffer as we suffer

because for God there is no despair, no hopelessness. Hopelessness is the most human of
sufferings.
For God, the pain is like the pain of separation we feel at the very moment we are running to
meet our beloved. We are in fact separated, and the effect of running and the distance
between us is a kind of suffering, but that suffering is totally redeemed by the hope we have,
the certitude, that we have in the meeting with our beloved. The pain that God experiences
with us is like the pain we experience while running to our beloved. It is not really a pain at
all; it is a part of the fullness of the moment. God sees in our life, when we cannot, the
abundance and perfection of our destiny in a way so perfectly complete that the so-called
suffering is ever blessed and redeemed in the final reunion. We are not God, though, and so
for us the experience of pain is not the same, but it is what it must be for a being God created
for joy. When we become more like God, we suffer more in the way God "suffers", so to speak.
We gradually experience and taste how death is just a flavor of life.
In us, God is always running to the beloved, He lives the separation in the total light of
(re)union, death in the light of life, pain in the light of total bliss. We may think that we are
just stamping our feet, out of breath, running to a horizon that never seems to come closer,
but we are growing still.
To turn a nothing into a something like God is going to have to hurt sometimes, ripping open
nothingness and pulling out a god-like being strand by strand, sinew by sinew, love by love,
pain by pain, stupidity by stupidity into bliss, wisdom, wholeness, and ever greater life.
Think of a pebble in the shoe of the running lover. If that lover had placed all his hope in a
perfect shoe, a perfect foot to go in that perfect shoe with a perfect sock, all to create a
perfect fit. If he longed for it and made it his great hope, a pebble in his shoe while he was
running would crush him, reduce him to anger, despair, agony, humiliation.
But what does a true lover care about a pebble in his shoe? Does he even feel it? Would he
care? Perhaps it would make for an even fonder memory of the reunion.

The Quran promises that " in Paradise the believers shall neither fear nor grieve" (2:62),
meaning that the light of God will so illuminate us that we shall see the beauty of all things
past and of what may come. It is in the darkness and opacity of the past, the inability to grasp
the greater harmony of what happens to us, that causes the pain of grief. In grief, we suffer
from the past. In fear, we suffer from the future. When God's light shows us the way, we suffer
from neither. The Quran does not deny the passage of time in Paradise, only the difficulties we
experience on account of it in this world. Our memory is illuminated and causes us no more
trouble, and our imagination, that faculty capable of reaching out to the future, can conceive
of no cause for despair or hopelessness. The ignorance built into the darkness of the world
simply cannot exist in the full light of God in Paradise. It is thus that the soul transcends time,
not by leaving it but by conquering it.

Our destiny in this world is both static and dynamic, which is to say that we are a harmony of
parts and of experiences, of aspects and states. We can understand easily that beauty in the
spatial sense is the presence of unity in multiplicity, which is to say, of harmony in all its
forms. Music is the classic example of dynamic harmony, of a harmony that not only exists
statically in a chord for example, but also dynamically, in a progression of counterpoint and in
the movements of a melody.
If the soul can conquer time and live in it in Paradise, what about here in this world? What
enables us to wake up to the harmony of our destiny in this world and the next? Surely we
must acknowledge that an awakening is called for, because we do grieve and fear, groping
about in the dark while falling prey to unhappiness and despair. How can we become like God
and experience reunion in separation? The Sufis indeed speak of taking on the divine qualities
(al-ittisf bi-siftillh), and this is done through the remembrance of God, the dhikr, in all its
forms. It is through the dhikr that the light of God shines brighter and brighter upon the soul,
transforming and purifying it. A Sufi shaykh has said that when the traveler looks back upon
his life, he will see that dhikr as a kind of golden chain passing through all its states and
experiences. This means that through the remembrance, practiced faithfully, the Sufi
overcomes the vicissitudes of time.
And this brings us finally to the dimension of non-time, which from man's point of view, both
in the spiritual life and in the hereafter, is the spirit, or the heart, or the intellect. The heart or
spirit or intellect is the point in man where the divine light resides and can shine down into the
soul. It is the mysterious divine spark, both created and uncreated, or as some would say,
neither. The spiritual life is the wedding of the soul to the spirit, not the elimination of the soul.
Remember that by virtue of being made in the image of God we all possess an intrinsic
dimension of light ourselves. The illumination we receive is truly just an aspect of our own
nature, as Ibn al-'Arab says so clearly in the Fuss. In the spiritual life, in the remembrance of
God, the spirit or heart acts upon the soul, illuminating it, transforming it, untying its knots,
turning it clear where it was once opaque. From the point of view of time, progress is made in
tying together our temporal selves with our non-temporal selves so that the former can be
transfigured by the latter. When the non-time or eternity of the spirit enters fully into the soul,
the Sufi becomes ibn al-waqt, newly born in each moment. Wa Allhu a'lam.
Notes
1. For a good general introduction to both special relativity and quantum mechanics, see Gary
Zukav's The Dancing Wu Li Masters (New York, 2001).
2. Among the most popular of such books is Fritjof Capra's The Tao of Physics (Boston, 1999).
Other titles include David Darling, Zen Physics: The Science of Death, the Logic of
Reincarnation (San Francisco, 1996); Alan Wallace (ed.) Buddhism and Science: Breaking New
Ground (New York, 2003); Matthieu Ricard and Trinh Xuan Thuan, The Quantum and the
Lotus: A Journey to the Frontiers Where Science and Buddhism Meet (New York, 2001).
3. For example, the physicist David Bohm interpreted the data of physics as being consistent
with a deeper level of reality, and in fact argued that a more profound wholeness is actually
implied by the data. See for example his Wholeness and the Implicate Order (New York,
1980).

4. This point is argued fully in Wolfgang Smith's The Quantum Enigma: Finding the Hidden
Key (Hillsdale, NY, 2005). A collection of essays also dealing with the new physics can be
found in his The Wisdom of Ancient Cosmology (Oakton, VA, 2003), which touches on a wide
assortment of questions relating to science and philosophy.
5. "On Beginning a New System of Islamic Philosophy," The Muslim World, 94:1 (January,
2004).
Return to the top of the page

The Realms of Responsibility

in Ibn 'Arabi's al-Futuhat al-makkiya
by Alexander Knysh
Ibn 'Arabi's concept of responsibility is elusive to say the least. One thing is obvious to me: he
definitely did not expect his readers to treat it in isolation from his other favorite topics, not to
mention dedicate a special academic conference to it. In the Futuhat the notion of
responsibility appears in a wide variety of guises and contexts, some of which I will examine in
this presentation. My examination does not pretend to be exhaustive and should be
complemented by the observations made by the participants in this symposium.[*]
The Arabic terms that Ibn 'Arabi uses to describe responsibility vary. The closest he comes to
our modern understanding of the meaning of responsibility is probably the concept of taklif a
term that denotes the sum total of religious obligations that God has imposed on His servants.
Throughout the text of the Futuhat, Ibn 'Arabi often refers to his fellow believers
as mukallafun, namely, those burdened with Divine Command[1] or those for whom the Divine
Law is prescribed.[2] Throughout the believer's earthly life this prescription is absolute and
irrevocable. It comes to an end only at his death, when all the veils are lifted and the true
essences of things are revealed to his bewildered gaze.[3] While the word taklif does highlight
some important aspects of our modern idea of responsibility, that is, the ability "to distinguish
between right and wrong, to think and act rationally and hence [be] accountable for one's
behavior,"[4] it carries a variety of additional connotations, namely, that of the passive
receptivity of divine commands that may appear to be entirely arbitrary, capricious and
irrational. Yet, as divine commands, they have to be implemented under any circumstances by
the mukallaf, who is, as it were, saddled with responsibility to fulfil God's requirements.
The other semantic cluster pertaining to responsibility is associated, in the Futuhat, with the
Arabic roots talaba ("to demand", "to demand back", "to reclaim", etc.) and sa'ala ("to ask",
"to demand", "to claim", etc.). According to Ibn 'Arabi, the whole universe is held
responsible (tuliba) by God for a strict observance of that which is His due (huquq Allah), that
is, God's rights vis--vis His creatures.[5] In the same way as the great governor (al-imam alkabir) is answerable (mas'ul) to his superiors for the proper morals, behavior and well-being of

his subjects, any human individual is answerable to God for the actions of his members. In
other words, he must keep all his members and faculties from the acts that are contrary to the
Divine Law.[6] If the servant of God fails to restrain them from illegal actions, he forfeits his
status as a true believer and is abandoned by God in the same way as the ruler is demoted
and disgraced if he fails to maintain the proper social and moral order in his domain.[7] To
avoid divine punishment, the servant should carefully weigh all his acts and thoughts on the
scale of Divine Law in order to achieve a salutary equilibrium between his personal dispositions
and the Divine Commands.[8] In this process of the weighing of his behavior the servant can
count on divine guidance, for man is incapable of striking the proper balance on his own.[9]
This is not to say that man is a helpless puppet in the hands of God. His life is a continual test
of his ability to remain faithful to the spirit and letter of the Divine Law and to carry the
burden of taklif. This test consists in the believer's never-ending struggle to bring his actions
and passions in line with the Divine Commands, especially when the former are at odds with
the latter. In this constant internal struggle against his passions and drives the servant is
continually tempted by the blandishments of Shaytan, who seeks to make him put his personal
priorities above those of God's. This ongoing battle determines man's status in the hereafter.
Even when man errs in his interpretation of a certain divine command, he can still be absolved
by God who wants to reward him for his refusal to blindly follow his instincts and for his
attempts to weigh his actions on the scale of the Divine Law.[10] The servant of God who has
successfully renounced all his personal drives and natural appetites will receive the ultimate
award. God will grant him the right guidance in perpetuity, overriding all his passions and
drives of the moment. Put differently, God will make divine guidance the very essence of the
servant's soul, thereby protecting him from any error.[11]
In an illuminating passage, Ibn 'Arabi traces the origins of taklif to the first human beings,
Adam and Eve, as well as Iblis. The former two were commanded not to approach the Tree of
Knowledge, whereas the latter was commanded to pay obeisance to the first man. In Ibn
'Arabi's interpretation, this original taklif had two different modes: prohibition (nahy) and
command (amr). These primeval orders were stronger than all those that were revealed
afterwards, because God announced them directly to the individuals concerned. Therefore,
God's punishment for disobedience was swift and permanent: Iblis was cast down from the
heavens forever, while Adam and Eve were expelled from paradise never to return. All later
prohibitions and commands were less direct and therefore less final. They were dictated by
God to His prophets and messengers or communicated to them through angels. The secondary
nature of these two later types of divine prohibitions and commands explains why the
punishment of mankind for failure to observe them was delayed by God until the Day of
Judgement.[12] In certain cases God can arbitrarily suspend them or grant the Prophet's
intercession on behalf of some members of his community contrary to His promise to always
punish the disobedient.
Elaborating on the theme of disobedience, Ibn 'Arabi draws a fascinating distinction between
prohibition, which he describes as "the order pertaining to non-existence" (amrun '
adamiyyun), and God's positive command, which he calls "the order pertaining to
existence" (amrun wujudiyyun). The former demands that an action not be performed, while
the latter, on the contrary, requires that the subject of the command undertake a certain
action. Since the human race by their very nature are passive recipients of divine volition and,
in the final account, God is their sole mover, inaction is easier for them than action. In fact,
Ibn 'Arabi pronounces action to be out of character with human beings. By embarking on a

certain activity, whether commendable or otherwise, the servants of God are overstepping the
boundaries circumscribed for them by their primordial nature, which Ibn 'Arabi sees as innately
passive. This difference, according to Ibn 'Arabi, determines the more severe nature of the
punishment for failure to obey God's positive commands as opposed to the lighter punishment
entailed by disobeying God's prohibitions, which are but "orders pertaining to non-existence".
Much of Ibn 'Arabi's discourse on responsibility revolves around the issue of theodicy in
general and the provenance and character of human actions in particular. If God is the
omnipotent Creator of human beings, to what extent is He also the maker of their acts? If we
grant that He creates all acts, be they good or evil, how can He hold humans responsible for
the actions they are not free to choose or perform? If we suggest that humans choose their
own actions from a number of possible alternatives, what will happen to divine omnipotence?
In other words, we are dealing here with the age-old and inscrutable theological problem of
human free will versus divine predestination. By Ibn 'Arabi's time, this problem had found two
principal solutions that were associated with the two major schools of Islamic theology,
Mu'tazilism and Ash'arism. The Mu'tazilites attributed actions to human beings, albeit via a
divine intervention of sorts, and held men fully responsible for their deeds and misdeeds. They
also argued that divine actions and justice can be justified rationally, in so far as God is a
rational entity. The Ash'arites argued that all actions are created directly by God, whereupon
humans appropriate and perform them. In so far as they are the appropriators and performers
of the divinely created actions, human beings are accountable before God. Unlike the
Mu'tazilites, the Ash'arites viewed God's actions as absolutely arbitrary and not subject to any
extraneous rationale or logic, at least as these are usually understood by human thinkers. In
the Futuhat, Ibn 'Arabi repeatedly discusses both theories and brings out their strengths and
weaknesses. I will spare you the details of these discussions, especially since they have
received an exhaustive treatment in Chittick's Sufi Path of Knowledge.[13] I would like to limit
myself here to a few brief comments. Ibn 'Arabi duly acknowledges the legitimacy of both
theories as human attempts to come to terms with the inscrutable workings of the divine will.
In the long run, however, he finds both of them wanting, because they rest on a fallible
rational speculation (nazar) rather than a direct supersensory insight (kashf) into the true
nature of empirical phenomena. This insight is exclusively characteristic of his fellow Sufi
gnostics, whom he also calls God's folk (ahl al-haqq) and the realizers of the ultimate
truth (muhaqqiqun). Ibn 'Arabi's elevation of kashf as the privileged cognitive mode is hardly
surprising given the fact that his entire life was devoted to the defence and justification of the
contemplative Sufism of a gnostic type. The notion of supersensory unveiling known
as kashf[14] is absolutely central to Ibn 'Arabi's mystical epistemology. He presents it as the
principal epistemological tool of Sufi gnosticism as well as its distinctive hallmark. The
overriding importance of kashf is thrown into sharp relief in many passages from
his Futuhat. Here are some typical examples:
Know, oh my brother, that the knowledge of God's folk (ahl Allah) is derived from kashf. Its
shape is that of faith itself. Anything that faith accepts [as being true] is precisely what
the kashf of God's folk rests upon. All of it is nothing but truth. For it was communicated [to
us] by none other than the Prophet himself - may God bless and greet him! - and he derived it
from a veridical kashf.[15]
In another passage Ibn 'Arabi says:

I have alerted you to this important affair so that you understand where the ideas of
rationalist scholars (al-'uqala') come from.[16] It has now become clear to you that sound
knowledge cannot be derived from any [human] idea or from the conclusions reached by
speculative scholars on the basis of their ideas. For the only true knowledge is infused by God
into the heart of the seeker. It is but a divine light that God bestows upon whoever He wishes,
be it an angel, messenger, prophet, saint, or [ordinary] believer. He who has no kashf, has no
knowledge![17]
It is only natural that Ibn 'Arabi has recourse to this critical notion in his attempt to resolve the
problem of human free will versus divine predestination. Since his kashf shows him all acts
and phenomena to be ultimately from and by God, he considers their conventional marking as
"evil" or "good" to be contingent and accidental. However, he acknowledges that, for the
overwhelming majority of the ordinary believers, the division of actions into "good" or "evil" is
absolute, because they believe that it will determine their status in the hereafter. Ibn 'Arabi
sees things in a totally different light, because he considers himself to have gone beyond the
imperatives and conventionalities of human existence and the external dispensation associated
with it. Moreover, he explicitly claims to have crossed the all-important line that separates
temporary existence from the eternal life to come. Here is how Chittick describes Ibn 'Arabi's
argument:
In the next world, once a person has left the arena of the Law, he will see that all his evil acts
were in fact - in relation to God though not in relation to himself - good acts. This, in Ibn
al-'Arabi's view, is one of the meanings of the Koranic statement, God will change their evil
deeds into good deeds (Q. 25:70).[18]
Chittick's paraphrase of Ibn 'Arabi's position is corroborated by the Shaykh's own words:
"What in fact takes place is that one divine name prescribes the Law for another divine name
within the locus of a created human being."[19] In this scheme of things, the servant's own
will to act is absolutely irrelevant. In fact, it simply does not exist, since all actions spring from
the internal interplay of God's names and commands within a contingent locus called human
being. Elsewhere, Ibn 'Arabi drives this message home saying: "There is nothing here for us,
except our readiness to accept the actions that are attributed [to us by God] in the empirical
world."[20] "My kashf therefore says: 'You have nothing to do with this.'"[21] In short, the
only true and real actor is none other than God Himself.
This is a very controversial statement in so far as it can be interpreted by some immature
minds as license to do as they please without paying any attention to the Revealed Law. In my
study of the fate of Ibn 'Arabi's intellectual legacy I have shown that this indeed was
occasionally the case. No wonder that in several passages Ibn 'Arabi tries to counterbalance
his strictly predestinarian stance by allowing at least a modicum of responsibility on the part of
human beings before their Lord. In an illuminating passage from Volume 3 of
the Futuhat (Bulaq edition) he shows how a potential adulterer is irresistibly drawn to the
object of his desire by God, Who creates in him simultaneously the desire to perform the act of
adultery and the physical ability to do it. Yet, in the final moment the would-be adulterer
abstains from plunging headlong into a grave sin as he remembers the capital punishment that
awaits him, which, in Islam, is death by stoning. Paradoxically, this remembrance is also
created in him by God, who thereby puts the adulterer in an impossible position of
simultaneously desiring to commit adultery and abhorring his desire to perform it. Thus, on

the face of it, the would-be sinner is saved by his own dread of the consequences of his act,
although, in the final account, his actions were still predetermined by God from all eternity.
Naturally, Ibn 'Arabi and his fellow gnostics among God's folk (ahl Allah) are not subject to
such difficult choices and tests. They have renounced all their instinctive drives and desires for
the sake of God. As a result, His worship has become part and parcel of their very nature and
everyday existence. Although they continue to live in this world, they no longer belong to it.
Their true abode is what Ibn 'Arabi calls "God's wide earth".[22] They reside in this
supernatural land because they have already died to this world in an effort to expedite the
face-to-face encounter with God that is promised to them in many passages of the Qur'an.
"We know," says Ibn 'Arabi, "that the meeting with God can happen only after death. We have
realized the meaning of death and striven to achieve it already in this present life of ours. So
we have died while at the same time remaining alive in regard to our actions, our movements
and our desires. And when death appears to us in this life of ours, while we shall remain
alive... [We] have met God and He has met us."[23] As a reward for this death before death,
Ibn 'Arabi and his fellow gnostics have been granted a vision of the true realities of all things
and phenomena which are concealed from the ordinary mortals by the deceptive outward
appearances of all things. This vision can only take place in "God's wide land", where the true
realities of things are revealed without their empirical bodies which, in the world of sense
perceptions, obscure their genuine essences. Roaming the vast expanses of this land, which
has neither a beginning nor an end, are "the people of Divine Providence". Each of them has
his own domain over which he has full control, without however infringing those of his
neighbors. As one of this land's inhabitants, Ibn 'Arabi is no longer deceived by the external
appearances of things and phenomena. In particular, he knows beyond any doubt that all
actions, be they good or evil, are predetermined and created by God and within God without
any intermediaries. As God's creations they are all essentially good. However, this realization
cannot mislead the gnostic into wrongdoing, because the pure and absolute worship of
God ('ubudiyya mahda) has become his true nature. In other words, as God's intimate friend,
the gnostic has become incapable of committing any sinful action.
Obviously, this exalted epistemological and moral stance eludes the overwhelming majority of
human beings, who are subject to the contingencies of the Revealed Law. They are unaware of
their status as helpless puppets in the hands of God, who has long predetermined their
destinies and charted the courses of their lives. Protected by their ignorance from flouting
God's commands, they strive the best they can to please Him in the hopes of securing their
salvation in the hereafter.
To such men and women Ibn 'Arabi addresses his lengthy admonitions at the end of
the Futuhat. Unlike many chapters of his magnum opus that are expressly directed at his
peers and soul-mates, this section is addressed to the average Muslim with little or no
propensity to mystical insights or flights of fantasy. In the course of more than one hundred
pages typeset in a very fine print, Ibn 'Arabi seeks to inculcate in his readers the rules of
proper behavior toward God and their fellow Muslims: be virtuous, do good works, observe
strictly the rules imposed upon you by God, perform supererogatory acts of piety, mind your
speech (in particular avoid slander and backbiting, even if your words are true), dispense
pious advice to your neighbors, feed the hungry and poor, clothe the naked, forgive people
their misdeeds, be patient in the face of afflictions, practice humility, maintain ritual purity, be
considerate of your fellow Muslims, remember God often, hold God's friends (awliya') in high

esteem, etc.[24] The overwhelming majority of these admonitions are the staple fare of
mainstream Sunnism and can be found in practically every didactic manual of the age. One
wonders what all these recommendations mean from the vantage point of the "final curtain"
and why the Shaykh spilt so much ink detailing them?
CONCLUSIONS
So what do we make of all these contradictions? I would like to suggest that in the Futuhat we
are dealing with several different levels and realms of responsibility that pertain to different
categories of people. Let us outline at least some of them. The first and most simple type of
responsibility is confined to the ignorant populace (al-'amma) who are incapable of reflection
over the true meaning of their faith and their destiny in the hereafter. Blind to their real
existential situation and the deeper structures of the cosmos, they are destined to follow
slavishly the recommendations of exoteric scholars ('ulama' al-rusum) as long as the latter
derive them from a correct, if temporarily and circumstantially contingent, understanding of
the Muslim scriptures and the exemplary behavior of the greatest Muslim scholars and pious
individuals of the past. The responsibility of the masses is to stay within the limits defined to
them by their learned pastors. Any intellectual inquiry that may take them beyond these
narrow confines should be strongly discouraged.
Slightly above the exoteric scholars and their flock stand speculative theologians (al-'uqala;
ahl al-nazar). In their quest for truth they have hit upon some sound and valuable ideas, but
are still incapable to place them into a larger picture and to see their true implications for this
world and the next. Nor are they able to understand the constant fluctuations of the modes of
God's will in regard to His creation. The notion of responsibility upheld by such scholars rests
on their often conflicting understanding of the provenance of human actions and of their
relationship with the workings of the ever changing divine will. While one theological faction
sees human actions as basically products of their human actors, their opponents trace them
back to God, leaving almost no room for human discretion. In the end, Ibn 'Arabi dismisses
both doctrines as falling short of the goal and confined to this world only. They will be
invalidated in the veridical vision that awaits mankind at the end of time.
To the third group of thinkers belong those whom Ibn 'Arabi identifies as the ones whom God
has granted a true insight into the cosmic situation and the role of man in it. This group
includes both "the knowers of God" or "gnostics" (al-'arifun bi 'llah) and "the ones who have
attained the truth" (al-muhaqqiqun). While the former, although being head and shoulders
above the esoteric scholars and the speculative theologians are yet to achieve perfection, the
latter have already attained it and entered "God's vast land", where things and phenomena of
the empirical world reveal to them their genuine essences.[25] Seen from the vantage point of
God's folk, the responsibility of the overwhelming majority of the faithful is limited to this
world only. When the final curtain will be lifted before the human eyes at the end of time, this
responsibility will be invalidated and supplanted by new existential arrangements and
dispensations. However, these new realities are already familiar to the perfected gnostics, who
inhabit "God's vast land", since that land prefigures the shape of things to come. To this
category Ibn 'Arabi claims to belong along with a small group of the elect "truth-realizers".
It is against this background that one should see what I consider to be Ibn 'Arabi's personal
realm of responsibility, that is, one that flows from his objective status as a member of his

society. Throughout his entire life, Ibn 'Arabi acted as a staunch advocate of and spokesman
for an extremely esoteric version of Sufism that I, for lack of a better term, have defined as
"Sufi gnosticism". His entire intellectual legacy is explicitly and implicitly dedicated to the
defence of its epistemological and ontological premises, which he considered to be the
ultimate and incontrovertible truths inspired in him directly by God. In view of the ultimate
and overriding nature of these truths, all the other religious doctrines circulating in his
religious and cultural milieu were but pale and inadequate reflections of the sublime divine
mysteries that he claimed to have direct access to. In the short term, these interim doctrines
may be of some value in as much as they restrain the ignorant populace from engaging in
reprehensible excesses and immorality; however, in and of themselves they are flawed and
imperfect. Moreover, they will prove false at the end of time, when the true realities of things
will be unveiled by God for the benefit of his servants. At that point, God's mercy will
encompass all of His creatures, the sinners and righteous alike, as promised by the
famous hadith that Ibn 'Arabi was so fond of citing in his works. Ibn 'Arabi considered this
sublime picture to be too overwhelming and potentially detrimental to the generality of
ordinary believers. Therefore he took care to protect it from the profane eyes by couching it in
long-winded technical discourses, dark allusions and puzzling allegorical exegeses that
permeate his magnum opus. Yet, as an advocate of Sufi gnosticism, he was compelled to
disclose these socially dangerous truths obtained through kashf in order to demonstrate their
superiority to the other cognitive modes and theological trends of his age. Simultaneously, he
debunked and spurned the rival visions of God and the world as one-sided and misleading. At
the same time, on the social level Ibn 'Arabi remained a member of the learned class,
the 'ulama'. As such he was under obligation to conceal his daring insights from the uninitiated
in an effort to preserve the fragile moral and social fabric of his community that could unravel,
if his daring teachings were to be misinterpreted and appropriated by some irresponsible
individuals. The tantalizing tension between concealment and disclosure that shapes Ibn
'Arabi's discussions of responsibility in the Futuhat is a direct result of his dual identity as both
scholar and mystic and his loyalties to the disparate, if not entirely incompatible, strains of
Islamic tradition.
I would argue, however, that, in the end, Ibn 'Arabi the gnostic prevails over Ibn 'Arabi the
canon. For better or worse, he dares to raise the curtain protecting God's ultimate mystery
and to reveal to his readers that all human actions and natural phenomena take place by and
in the all-encompassing divine Reality (al-haqq). God's creatures are but the passive and
contingent arenas of dialogues between God's own names and attributes. Seen from this
perspective, the creatures have no role at all in the acts that they ostensibly create and
perform.
My narrative has come full circle. What began as a discussion of Ibn 'Arabi's concept of human
responsibility has led me to the paradoxical realization that, in the final analysis, there is none,
at least in the conventional meaning of this word. What we see is Ibn 'Arabi's self-imposed
responsibility to communicate his daring insights into the structure of the universe and the
designs of its divine Creator to his fellow Sufi gnostics. That these insights often contradict our
empirical experiences, the received wisdom of the traditionalist scholars and the theodicies of
the speculative theologians did not divert him from his objective.
herefore be immediately assumed by Ibn Arabi's original readers and listeners:

 To begin with, the best-known (and perhaps the most complex) Quranic expression of this
theme is found in the familiar verse of our opening epigraph above (2:186), which manages to
evoke not only the constant ongoing interplay of divine and human calling and corresponding
responses, but also the spiritually significant intermediary role of Muhammad (the mysterious
singular 'you' of this particular verse) and by extension, of all the inspired messengers,
prophets and 'Friends of God' (awliy Allh) to whom people so often turn at the most difficult
points in the course of this process.
More commonly, the Quran clearly distinguishes between God's response to human or
prophetic pleading (some l3 other verses), on the one hand; and the wider range of human or
other responses (including those of the jinn and Satan) to God's direct or indirect Calling
(some 24 verses).
Those verses focusing on the divine Response (always ultimately beneficent) to human
pleading often emphasize God's spiritual proximity and readiness to respond (as here in the
verse 8:24 that provides the title of Chapter 519), but also the necessary human
conditions for that Response to be effectively perceived and actualized: for example, having
true faith, remaining upright and attentive, following God alone, fulfilling our responsibilities,
doing good deeds, and so on.
The descriptions of the divine Response, depending on the circumstances in question, refer
sometimes to visible, outward historical events and occurrences, but at least equally often to
apparently spiritual consequences and recompenses bestowed upon the particular individuals
or groups concerned.
Most strikingly, almost all the verses concerning God's Response highlight the bitterly
unpleasant human circumstances and dilemmas that actually lead people to cry out and to call
upon Him: that is, dramatic situations (often involving Muhammad or earlier prophets) of
palpable suffering, fear, injustice and oppression, loss, sinfulness and repentance, and so on.
Thus the highlighting of those particularly compelling underlying circumstances immediately
suggests a much wider circle of closely related Quranic terms and concepts such as the
interplay of divine and human 'turning' (t-w-broot) and 'attention' or right direction (w-j-h),
and so on that are all likewise deeply embedded in Ibn Arabi's discussion of calling and
response in these two paired chapters of the Futht. As these two chapters also make clear,
those same troubling circumstances likewise point to the often unimaginably complex
manifestations of the divine Response: that is, to the very concrete individual and communal
mystery-stories of providential divine arrangement (makr) through which the apparent 'evil'
and unavoidable suffering of life in this world is gradually discovered to be inseparable from
the deepest dimensions and ultimate intentions of God's all-encompassing Love and
Compassion (rahma).
In contrast, the more numerous (24) verses focusing on the response of people (and other
morally responsible creatures) to their Calling by God and His messengers who are often
inseparably associated, as here in verse 8:24 highlight a somewhat different set of practical
spiritual considerations:
The first of these is the necessity of distinguishing between those appeals which are truly,
intrinsically divine, and the vast spectrum of (ultimately illusory) suggestions and solicitations

constantly coming to us from Satan and a long array of self-styled potential 'friends,' rescuers,
and protectors.
A different set of inner spiritual obstacles is evoked by the frequent references to those who
apparently 'hear' the divine Call, but who (as at 6:36, providing the title of Chapter 520) are
not really listening due to a wide array of distractions, momentary preoccupations, and other
inner and outer impediments and who therefore fail to respond to those divine appeals in a
timely and appropriate manner. (This is of course another case where the initial problematic of
calling and response leads directly to a much wider circle of related Quranic themes and
illustrations.)
Likewise, many of these verses contrast the particular revealing signs and tell-tale proofs
and evidence of God's actively transforming response and support, whether in this world or
beyond, with the ultimately empty, non-existent responses (or mute silence) of other illusory
guides and protectors. At the same time, in more than half of these verses it is only in an
eschatological setting that the ultimate futility and impotence of those illusory 'gods' is fully
revealed to those who had responded to them. In other words, only an illuminated awareness
of our spiritual reality and destiny or other instruments of divine protection and guidance
can make possible the necessary discernment of the sources and intended meanings of life's
often conflicting 'calls.'
Finally, as just mentioned previously, these verses likewise often highlight the considerable
range of necessary individual human preconditions for an effective and appropriate response
to the complex spectrum of divine and prophetic Calls.
As for the hadith on this theme that are partially translated in the Appendix at the end of this
essay, they likewise fall into two groups, focusing either on God's 'response' to our calling and
pleading, or to particular situations and challenges that the Prophet suggests are immediately
demanding our own appropriate spiritual response. And while both these sets of hadith closely
parallel the broader teachings of the Quranic verses just mentioned, they are also
characterized by that directness of expression (often more evident in the original Arabic),
simplicity and concreteness of their particular illustrative contexts which are all typical qualities
of the hadith more generally.

Chapter 519: The World as Divine 'Messenger'

The focus of Ibn Arabi's reflection in this chapter is on the following Quranic verse (8:24),
which we first translate here in full, because the emphasis in its second half on God's constant
transforming and illuminating Presence as the ever-present active mediator between our
imagined 'self' and our own Heart (qalb: each human being's essential spiritual reality)
constantly underlies Ibn Arabi's emphasis in these twinned chapters on the complex
challenges of properly recognizing and appropriately responding to the endless succession of
unique divine 'messengers' and their inward and outward divine 'Signs' (verse 41:53 above)
that together constitute every moment of our unfolding earthly experience:
O those who have faith, respond fully to God and to the Messenger when He calls you all to
what gives you Life! And know that God passes/shifts/is transformed/intervenes between the
person and his Heart, and that it is to Him that you all are being gathered!

The complex Arabic verb (h-w-l root) used here to describe God's constantly shifting Presence
within each human soul also immediately evokes the central theme in this Chapter 519 and
indeed in much of Ibn Arabi's work of God's tahawwul, or ongoing transformation and Selfmanifestation, throughout literally all the forms and levels of existence and creation. Ibn
Arabi's favorite dramatic illustrations of that cosmic reality of divine Self-manifestation are
two well-known 'Divine Sayings' (hadth quds), both set against the eschatological backdrop
of a particular human soul's revelatory 'unveiling' to the actual omnipresence of the divine, as
depicted in the symbolic setting of that person's final Judgment and Rising (qiyma). The first
of these dramatic stories is what he usually calls the 'hadith of the transformation through the
forms,' where a group of self-righteous souls, about to cross the Bridge (sirt) from this world
to the beyond, fail to recognize the divine Presence manifesting Itself to them in many
different forms, except for the very restricted form of their own particular limiting
beliefs[11] as to what is 'divine.' The second Divine Saying on our persistent human failure to
recognize the full reality of the divine Presence and Signs, which he sometimes calls the
'hadith of (the true nature of) Gehenna,' is one in which God reveals to another self-righteous
human soul at the Last Day its repeated profound failures to recognize and to
compassionately respond to the divine Presence in all the endless forms and levels of
'hunger,' 'thirst,' and 'illness' or loneliness experienced by other human beings in this life. (See
the full literal translations of both these key longer hadith in The Reflective Heart, Chapter 3.)
Since each chapter of the Meccan Illuminations opens with a complex, multi-dimensional
metaphysical poem that carefully summarizes the subject and ultimate import of that
particular spiritual 'Doorway' (bb), we begin with a full translation of the opening poem in
Chapter 519.
Translation
Chapter 519: Concerning the inner knowing of the state of the Pole whose spiritual waystation
is '...respond fully to God and to the Messenger when He calls you all to what brings you to
Life!' (8:24)
When you are called, respond, since God is calling you: For He does not call, but that He is
(also) giving you.[12]
You are the fully sufficient one:[13] so bestow generously, from what He has brought to you,
what is in harmony with what is Right/Due/Real (al-Haqq). For the All-Loving follows[14] you.
And every thing that is (apparently) contrary to the Right/Due/Real,[15] ponder it with
deep consideration,[16] for thoughtful reflection (fikr) is also calling you.
Don't say: 'That's not from my Lord!' and skip over it:
for the All-Knowing, by way of fact/command,[17] is bringing (that) to you.
So take it[18] and examine it deeply, with the instrument[19] you know:
for surely everything in manifest existence (kawn) is in you!
Do not blame in any way[20] anything that you, you are ignorant of!
Nor (should you ever criticize) each (divine) 'Address'[21] that is bestowed upon you.
Surely 'the God' has a 'cunning way'[22] with a group among His creatures:
so strive to realize[23] this in your essential/good qualities[24]!
And never ever say: 'This does not enter into the Scale of Intelligence!'
For Its[25] current/present (also) flows/carries/applies to you!

Know may God inspire and support us and you with the Holy Spirit![26] that there is no
clearer indication in the Quran indicating that the Complete Human Being[27] is created
according to the (divine) Form (of the All-Compassionate, al-Rahmn)[28] than this reminder
(in verse 8:24), through [God's inclusion of the definite article before 'Messenger', indicating
an equivalent role, rather than a subordination, and through the insistence in this verse on the
divine commandment that we should respond to both God and the Messenger].[29]
... For God and His Messenger are only calling us to what brings us to Life. Thus the response
is (required) of us in every state when those two call us, since there is not any state but that it
is from Him. Therefore we must necessarily respond to Him whenever those two call us, since
He is sustaining us in (all) our states! Hence He only distinguished here between God's Calling
and the Messenger's Calling in order that we might come to realize and actualize,[30] through
that (inspired response of ours), the Form of the Real/God that the Messenger occupies
while He is the Caller to us in boththose states.
So when He calls us through the Quran, informing (us) and translating (its meanings to us in
human terms), then that call is God's Calling, so that our response is to God, while the
Messenger is causing us to truly listen. But when He calls us through other than the Quran,
then that calling is theMessenger's Calling (us), so that our responding should be to the
Messenger (that is, to that particular human or other creaturely instrument or form and
situation through which that Calling actually reaches us). So there is no difference at all
between the two Callings, as far as (the obligation of) our responding although each Calling
is distinguished from the other by the difference of the Caller.
[Ibn Arabi then goes on to explain that the Calling of 'the Messenger' (that is, of everything
other than Quran itself) is 'even more numerous or more multiple' (akthar), in the sense that
it is more real and tangible and varied in its apparent origins, when viewed from our ordinary
ego-perspective.]
Indeed (the constant particularized 'Calling' of the universe to each person) is undoubtedly
'more numerous,' since we only hear it through all the concretely individualized particulars of
multiplicity.[31] And (this Calling) coming from the Messenger (that is, through all of creation)
is more closely corresponding to our hearing, because of the correspondence of form [between
our bodily senses and the 'Messenger'-world of outward manifestation] just as the Calling
(directly) from God more closely corresponds to our inner spiritual realities (haqiq).
[Ibn Arabi then continues to highlight other Quranic verses further emphasizing just as in
the second half of the verse 8:24 that is the title and keynote of this entire chapter God's
ultimate 'Closeness' to our souls, contrasted with the very human location (in time and space)
of each particular outward 'messenger' and 'message.']
Thus (in accordance with the second half of this verse 8:24) God is closer to us than
ourselves. But He is not closer to the (created) thing than itself since this (divine) closeness
is one in which we have faith, but which we do not know or even witness; though if we
witnessed it, we would also know it.[32]
[Throughout this complex section, we are meant to understand that as many related Quranic
verses also cited here indicate we human beings are constantly being solicited as well by

other people and tempting, but illusory figures (such as 'the Satans among the human beings
and jinn,' at 6:112) that we unfortunately treat as though they were God, or at least effective
intermediaries and 'associates' of God. Hence the decisive practical importance of the
experiential processes of spiritual discernment and discovery that are the shared subject of the
rest of this chapter and Chapter 520.]
Thus we must reflect about who is being called upon, in what we are being called to do. Then
if we find and experience an additional Life of spiritual knowing (hayt ilmiyya zida) in the
state we are in, which brings us to Life through that very Calling itself, we are obligated to
respond to whoever calls us, whether (that is) God or the Messenger. For we are only being
ordered to respond when we are called to what brings us to Life since God and His
Messenger do not call us to anything but what brings us to Life! So if we do not
find/experience the 'tasting' of that strange additional life (al-hayt al-gharba al-zida), then
we don't really know Who is calling us. For our ultimate aim here is nothing but the real
attainment of that through which we are brought to Life, and it is for the sake of this that we
hear and willingly obey.
So what is indispensable is that the person called must (first) actually perceive this
effect/influence through which the (appropriate) response for him to this Call is particularized
and specified.
Next, if the person of this description (who actually perceives this initial divine, life-giving
quality of this particular Calling) responds to It, then he attains, through (the Call) he heard,
yet another life through which the heart of this listener is brought to Life.
And if what this person heard from Him requires of him a certain action, and he
actually carries out that (right) action, then he has a third Life.[33]
So reflect on all that the servant deprives himself of whenever he does not listen to the Calling
of God and the Messenger! For all of being[34] is God's Words, and the 'fresh spiritual
inspirations/insights that reach (our soul)'[35] are all of them messengers from God's
Presence. That is how they are experienced by the Knowers of and through God,[36] since for
them every speaker is nothing but God, and every saying is a (new) knowing of God.
So that the only shaping/wording that remains (to be understood or discovered) is the
(intended) form of what is heard from that (particular situation of divine 'Speaking' and
Calling). Because in that (process of hearing, followed by the 'listening' of discernment and
understanding, then by right action) there is the speech of conforming to the divine pathway
(leading to Life); and there is also the speech which is trial and affliction.[37] So all that is left
is the understanding through which the difference in relative eminence (between those two
possible human responses, and their respective consequences) takes place!
Now those who are learned in the external traces[38] restricted themselves to the particular
'Speech of God' called the Furqn ('Separation')[39] andQurn ('Connecting') and to the
particular (historical) messenger named Muhammad. But the Knowers (of God) generalized
the 'Listening' (implied here in verse 8:24) to all (divine) Speaking, and they heard the Quran
as Connecting[40] (all people and all created things with their Source, the divine Real), not as
separating; and they generalized (God's) sending of messages (risla) to the category

(of all forms of divine 'Speaking' and creation) and to (its) universal inclusivity, not to a
(particular historical) era. So (for those true Knowers), every calling (person/situation) in the
world is a (divine) 'messenger' inwardly and spiritually, even if they are separated outwardly.
[...Ibn Arabi goes on to point out here how the Quran also carefully describes Ibls/Satan
and by extension, all the 'sorcery' of his 'agents' and manifestations as likewise being 'sent'
and allowed to have their particular essential influences only through God's permission, a point
whose far-reaching practical spiritual implications he repeatedly highlights throughout
the Futht.]
...So the Knower is happy and blessed in receiving the message (risla) of Satan, since he
knows how to receive that, while others are pained and miserable through that: they are the
people who lack this spiritual Knowing. (Of course) all of the people of faith, together with the
Knowers among them, are happy with the message of the (divine) messengers. But the
person who is acting in accordance with (a genuine spiritual awareness of) what was brought
in that (apparently 'bad,' painful or otherwise 'Satanic') message is happier than the person of
faith who has faith in that (divine Message) in (outward verbal) agreement and words, while
disobeying it in action and speech.
Therefore everything that is moving (or changing) and shifting in the world is a divine
messenger, whatever that motion/change may be. For nothing moves, not even an atom,
without God's permission. So the Knower looks for what is brought about through its
motion/change, and from that he seeks to draw the benefit of a knowing that he did not have
(before). To be sure, what the Knowers take from those (endlessly renewed) 'messengers' is
different according to the (particular) messengers: so what they take from those messengers
who are among the 'people of (divinely) guiding indications' (ashb al-dallt) is not like the
way they take from those messengers who are (acting) by (God's) permission, but without
actually being aware themselves of that permission [...and its deeper divine purpose, such as
Ibls/Satan].
[Ibn Arabi goes on to give a long illustration here of how the Knowers know how to deal with
Satan: for example, in their knowing to intentionally conceal someone's wrongdoing (the
divine virtue of being sattr) which would do greater harm or discord if it were publicly known,
thus accomplishing the opposite of what Satan directly intended. The paradoxical spiritual
implications of this basic insight are again highlighted in some of the more notorious passages
of the Fuss al-Hikam.]
So the whole world, for the Knower, is a Messenger from God to him. And that Messenger and
His message I mean the whole world with respect to that Knower, is a lovingmercy
(rahma), because the messengers are only sent as a lovingmercy.[41] So if they were sent
with an (apparent) affliction, that would actually be a divine lovingmercy in concealment,
because the divine 'Lovingmercy encompasses every thing.'[42] Indeed there is nothing at all
there (in all existence) that is not within this divine Lovingmercy: Surely your Sustainer is Allencompassing in Forgiveness (wsi al-maghfira)... (53:32).
Divine Calling, Human Response Scripture and Realization in the Meccan Illuminations, by
James W. Morris. Part 1. From Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society, Vol. 53, 2013.

Part 2 of this article

Translation from Ch. 520 of the Meccan Illuminations and Appendix of Quranic verses and
hadith on divine and human 'calling' and response.

Notes
[1].Fasl VI, Chapters 462558: volume IV, pp.74325. The final Chapters 559560 together
basically form a separate concluding part devoted to the meanings and deeper spiritual and
ethical lessons of the entire book.
[2].Hijjrt: in the titles of all of these chapters, this term refers to key Quranic phrases and
litanies of prayer and spiritual 'remembrance' (dhikr), as is well illustrated in the two chapters
discussed in this essay.
[3]Throughout many earlier chapters of the. Futht, the titles include repeated mysterious
allusions to certain 'Moses-like' and 'Jesus-like' spiritual waystations, while others are termed
'Muhammad-like': the latter epithet seems to refer here to particularly universal and inclusive
spiritual stations, which fully integrate the contrasting perspectives (in our initial stages of
spiritual realization) of divine Mercy and Wrath, or Beauty and Majesty. Aqtb(plural of qutb),
is a common Sufi term normally referring to central figures among the spiritual hierarchy of
the awliy or 'Friends of God.' In these concluding chapters of the Futht, however, this term
seems to refer simply to the particular spiritual 'types' exemplifying the defining insights,
states and stations explored in each chapter.
[4]Or 'guideposts' for the spiritual traveler:. alm. (The italicized emphasis is ours.)
[5]The brief introduction to this entire sixth and final division (.fasl) of the book translated
here is from vol. IV, p.74. The concluding paragraph of this preface to all the final chapters of
the Futht not translated here intentionally echoes a number of Quranic verses insisting
that the responsibility of Muhammad (and of earlier prophets) is only for the transmission and
communication (balgh) of the divine Message, not for its proper reception and spiritual
comprehension among those to whom it is delivered.
[6]This is of course a particularly revealing allusion to Ibn Arabi's mature conception of his
wider mission as the 'Seal of Muhammadan [i.e., universal].Walya (divine proximity and
guidance),' a notion carefully explained in each of his recent biographies, and perhaps most
fully developed in M. Chodkiewicz's foundational Seal of the Saints.
[7]In the opening. Fass of Adam, as throughout the Fuss, these two facets of God's Selfmanifestation correspond to the essential twofold meaning of al-khalq as all of creation, and
as human beings in particular in the famous Divine Saying that frames and structures all of
that work: 'I was a hidden Treasure, and I loved to be known: so I created creation/people, so
that I might be known.'
[8]The reference here is to the ultimate, all-encompassing divine Essence, to what is most
Real and Present, not to any sort of abstraction, vague concept or distant reality..

[9]The same essential full contextualization is equally indispensable, of course, for modern
translations of any of the masterpieces of later Islamicate spiritual poetry, such as
the. Dwn of Hafiz and that poet's subsequent imitators or competitors in Persian and many
other Islamic languages.
[10]The verses and hadith briefly cited in the Appendix to this essay (in Part II), from which
the following general observations are drawn, are limited to those involving forms of the usual
Arabic root for answering, responding or replying to a request (.j-w-b, in both the IVth and
Xth verb forms). The corresponding notions of calling, requesting, pleading, praying for, and so
on are expressed in the wider family of Quranic expressions (including the Arabic roots s-l, d--w, n-d-w, etc.).
[11]Or in fact, much more broadly, all of their for the most part, deeply unconscious and
automatic 'inner spiritual knots,' unquestioned judgments and presuppositions, as Ibn Arabi
explains in his famous discussions of this constraining role of each person's deeply
unconscious. itiqd and the resulting 'gods-created-in-belief' that recur throughout his Fuss
al-Hikam.
[12]That is, giving being and life, and thereby bestowing the constantly renewed opportunity
for fuller life and deeper spiritual understanding, as the rest of this chapter makes clear..
[13]The 'you' addressed frequently here and throughout these two chapters is usually both
each individual reader and the ultimate reality of humanity as the 'Complete Human Being'
(.insn kmil): the latter reality is identified, throughout this and all of Ibn Arabi's works,
with the entirety of all creation as divine Self-manifestation (tajalliyt). As Ibn Arabi states
more explicitly throughout his Fuss, this means that each of the divine Names or Attributes
can only be fully known to us, and even (more controversially!) ultimately to God through
their actual manifestation in creation, and above all in each realized human being. One of the
most familiar of those Names recalled here is al-Ghan, 'the All-Sufficient' or 'Self-Sufficient.'
In theFutht, this final series of 96 chapters on the spiritual stations of the Poles concludes
with a long Chapter 558 devoted specifically to each of the 'Most-Beautiful' divine Names (as
classically enumerated in a famous hadith) and to what they demand of and make possible for
their corollaries in human experience.
[14]Or: '.is reciting you.' This play on words highlights Ibn Arabi's understanding deeply
rooted in imagery of the Quran and hadith of the fundamental nature of all creation and
humanity (insn, again) as divine 'Speech' and 'Words,' or the 'Breathing of the AllCompassionate' (nafas al-rahmn). This image of all creation, manifestation, and experience
as the eternal divine 'recitation' of the cosmic 'Quran' is developed in the rest of this poem and
throughout the remainder of this chapter.
[15]Or simply 'God':. Al-Haqq. This is a direct allusion to the two key dramatic Divine Sayings
mentioned just above highlighting our chronic failure to recognize God's Presence in all things
and situations or in other words, our frequent nave human tendency toward a profound
metaphysical dualism holding the divine Names (and their created manifestations) as being
somehow either 'good' or 'evil.'

[16].Itibr: that is, use that experience of what is initially challenging and disturbing to our
egoistic expectations and judgments as a kind of 'bridge' to 'cross over' to its actual intended
meaning and necessary role in the intimate transforming process of spiritual realization and
growth discussed throughout these two chapters.
[17]The Arabic phrase. bi-wajh al-amr here alludes both to all the divine 'commandments'
connected with this challenge of realization, and more deeply, simply to 'the way things are' or
the 'nature of created reality itself.'
[18]That is, every situation and experience that we may initially perceive as somehow
'contrary' or 'opposed' to (what we initially consider or unconsciously conceive of as) the
'divine.'.
[19]It rapidly becomes clear from later contexts in this chapter (and elsewhere throughout
the. Futht) that this undefined 'tool of Investigation' is the 'Scale' (Quranic mzn) of the
divine/human Intelligence (aql), which is itself the 'Complete Human Being' (insn kmil) and
'Muhammadan Reality' that Ibn Arabi goes on to mention in the first prose line immediately
following this opening poem.
[20]The poet's language here intentionally echoes the most intense negative imperative form
that is used almost exclusively in Quranic rhetoric (extremely rarely in ordinary Arabic prose),
which might be more adequately translated as '.Don't even think of blaming or criticizing...!'
[21].Khitb: in Ibn Arabi's technical language, this grammatical term refers to all the ways in
which God's 'Speech' (i.e., all of manifest existence) is specifically directed to and received by
each human being, through all the uniquely particular unfolding forms of each soul's
experience and existence.
[22].Makr: using this same term, the Quran frequently contrasts the all-encompassing divine
providence manifested in all the ultimately beneficent 'accidents' of fate and destiny with
the pervasive human tendency to try to control and manipulate others, including the manifold
'god(s) created in our beliefs' and unconscious suppositions. That is why the poet here
pointedly refers to 'the (real) God' (al-ilh) instead of to the more familiar (and often
profoundly misunderstood) substantive form 'Allh.'
[23]The imperative verb form used here is drawn from the most common Arabic root
(.tahqq, muhaqqiq, etc.) that Ibn Arabi uses to convey the distinctive practical spiritual and
metaphysical focus of all his work, that spiritual intelligence which combines the fundamental
role of individual experiential 'realization' or actualization of the Real with that further
necessary 'verification' and reflective comprehension which he understands as he carefully
goes on to explain below to be practically inseparable from each stage of spiritual growth
and maturation.
[24].Man: referring to the inner spiritual realities and actualized qualities of character
(haqiq, makrim al-akhlq) actively manifesting the divine Names/Attributes, which are the
eventual spiritual fruits of the process of realization.

[25]'It' here refers to the cosmic universal Intellect (.aql), which Ibn Arabi understands
throughout his works as an equivalent to the 'Muhammadan Reality,' 'Light of Muhammad,'
divine 'Speech,' the 'Complete Human Being,' and so on. Needless to say, none of these
symbols or their cumbersome translations effectively convey by themselves a real sense of the
full mystery, complexity, and inherent dynamic unfolding interconnection of that cosmic reality
they are meant to point to here.
[26]The opening prose phrase of the majority of chapters of the. Futht begins (as in
Chapter 520 immediately below) with a similar brief invocation, for both the author and his
singular reader, requesting the divine aid of '...a spirit from Him.' However, the extreme rarity
of this particular prayerful request here in Chapter 519 for 'the Holy Spirit' (rh al-qudus:
usually identified with the archangelic messenger Gabriel and universal Intellect) in particular
may suggest the unique comprehensiveness of the spiritual vision and perspective required to
grasp the full dimensions of those spiritual lessons that are the specific focus of this chapter.
[27].Al-insn al-kmil: as at note 25 just above, a few other recurrent symbolic equivalents
of this key cosmological term in Ibn Arabi's works include the 'Muhammadan Reality,' the
Logos (divine 'Speech' or 'Recitation' of the cosmic Quran, at note 14 above), the universal,
cosmic Intelligence (aql), or the 'Light of Muhammad.'
[28]Alluding here and throughout the rest of this chapter to the specific wording of the
famous hadith that 'Adam [that is, the Complete Human Being] was created according to the
form of the All-Loving,. al-Rahmn.' This is the divine Name which the Quran pointedly insists
(at 17:110) is equivalent to that of the comprehensive divine Name (that is, the Name
including all the other more specific divine Names and Attributes) of 'God' (Allh).
[29]In other words, the longer prose passage briefly summarized here in brackets sets out the
ontological and theological framework that is the subject of the opening chapter on Adam in
Ibn Arabi's famous. Bezels of Wisdom (Fuss al-Hikam), stressing the two inseparable
dimensions of the divine Self-manifestation (tajalliyt): that is, through all the realms of
creation (= 'The Messenger' here) and inwardly through the human Heart (= 'the Quran'
below) both together constituting and manifesting the 'Complete Human Being.'
[30].li-natahaqqaq: this is the active, reflexive form of the same verbal root usually
translated as 'realization' in this essay. But given Ibn Arabi's frequent emphasis here and
throughout his writings on the more openly universal and comprehensive al-Haqq ('the Truly
Real', 'Right,' 'Obligatory,' and so on) as synonymous with (or even more comprehensive than)
'God' (Allh), this verbal form also suggests that spiritual realization is also a kind of gradual
'divinization' or drawing closer to God or of 'taking on the divine qualities of character'
(takhalluq bi-akhlq Allh), to use a favorite expression of earlier Sufi teachers.
[31].Ayn al-kathra: this same expression here can also be read literally as 'the eye of
multiplicity.' Ibn Arabi's intentional pun here also highlights the essential contrast between our
bodily senses adapted to perceive the multiplicity of created things, and our 'spiritual vision'
(basra and shuhd) which must be awakened in order to perceive the meanings and ultimate
Unicity (wahda) and Reality (al-Haqq) underlying those ever-flowing forms of our experience.

[32]The paradox stated here that we cannot somehow 'know' or witness (as though from
some imagined 'outside' viewpoint) the actual divine reality of our Sustainer (.rabb) which
ultimately is our sensing, perceiving, knowing, acting self is of course the central subject of
Ibn Arabi's entireFuss al-Hikam, more particularly elaborated in the chapters on Adam,
Abraham and Hud, among others.
[33]We have separately highlighted here these three distinct, successive stages of every
human situation of spiritual realization because Ibn Arabi frequently highlights, throughout
his. Futht, the inherent spiritual benefit (thawb) and manifold lessons which flow simply
from each person's initial 'listening' and paying attention to God's Calling, and then from our
efforts to actively respond to that Call even when our initial understanding and/or our
attempted responses are so often incorrect or inadequate. Indeed, as he stresses again and
again, here and elsewhere, it is only through the ongoing, lifelong repetition of those efforts at
truly listening and appropriately responding, with all their inevitable failures and mistakes
whether in our initial perception, understanding, or subsequent right action that spiritual
learning and realization is actually possible.
[34]Or 'everything that we find/experience':. wujd (and related forms of the w-j-d root),
throughout Ibn Arabi's own works, almost always expresses both those very different
meanings of the Arabic.
[35].Wridt: this key Sufi phenomenological term is usually understood in implicit contrast
to the much larger category of 'random impulses' or 'mental noise' (khawtir) that happen to
pass through our mind and consciousness. That underlying contrast highlights the practical
necessity of the essential processes of spiritual discernment that are the focus of the
remainder of this chapter. See also the earlier passages (at note 14) on the related dimensions
of Reality perceived as divine 'Speaking.'
[36].Al-rifn bi-llh: that is, the highest category of realized spiritual 'Knowers,' who
simultaneously perceive all things with, through, and as God, in their inseparability from the
Real (al-Haqq) that is their common Source.
[37]In this sentence, Ibn Arabi pointedly contrasts our experiences of following and
conforming to the divine 'prescription' and intention embedded in each moment (.imtithl
shar) signified by the probative experience of new 'Life' that spontaneously flows from that
realization with the (equally revelatory) 'painful testing' and subjective 'dying' or separation
and loneliness that is the subject of following Chapter 520 (and its opening verse 6:36), in
particular.
[38].ulam al-rusm: a familiar Sufi expression for those scholars learned in the disciplines
of historically transmitted religious traditions and other outward religious forms.
[39]Both. Furqn (from the Arabic root for 'separating' and 'distinguishing') and Qurn are
among several Quranic terms applied to different dimensions (many of them clearly
metaphysical and trans-historical) of the revelation brought by Muhammad. Here Ibn Arabi is
alluding to a familiar playful usage, which he frequently adopts throughout his works, that
assumes the root of 'Qurn' (actually from q-r-, 'to recite') to be from the Arabicq-r-n,
'combining' or 'joining.' This allows him to contrast these two terms in referring to that

distinctive combination of metaphysical 'distinguishing' (farq) and unitive 'conjoining' (jam)

which is the experiential fruit of accomplished spiritual realization.
[40]See the preceding note..
[41]Alluding to the famous Quranic verse. We have only sent you as a Lovingmercy to all the
worlds! (21:107), whose wider universal dimensions and implications identifying this
'Muhammadan Reality' with the cosmic 'Complete Human Being' are dramatically developed
in the concluding section of Chapter 520 below.
[42]Paraphrasing the words of a famous verse (7:156) which is one of the most constantly

The Man Without Attributes:

Ibn 'Arabi's Interpretation of Abu Yazid alBistami
One of the characteristic epithets of the great Sufi master Ibn 'Arabi is Muhyi al-Din, the
"Revivifier of the Faith". When we ask what this means in practice, it raises the question of
how a mystic interacts with the tradition. A Sufi of the stature of Ibn 'Arabi does not simply
recapitulate the experiences and commentaries of early generations of Sufis. The more
comprehensive the vision of a thinker, the more important it is to examine how this vision
integrates, or in this case revivifies, the insights of previous thinkers into a synthetic edifice. It
has long been recognized that Ibn 'Arabi paid close attention to his spiritual forebears,
certainly the prophets but also of course the many Sufis who first elaborated the parameters
of the Islamic mystical tradition. The interpretations that he has given to the sayings and
experiences of earlier Sufis provide valuable indices of the ways in which the Shaykh
constructed his relationship with the Sufi tradition. As an example of Ibn 'Arabi's treatment of

his predecessors, I would like to examine his interpretation of Abu Yazid al-Bistami (d. 848
9), the enigmatic Persian whose bold ecstatic sayings have posed a continuing challenge to
subsequent generations. Especially when we contrast Ibn 'Arabi's interpretation of Abu Yazid
with the Bistamian legacy as seen by other Sufis, we can come to understand the
distinctiveness of Ibn 'Arabi's approach to the tradition.
Ibn 'Arabi has creatively appropriated the legacies of many other early Sufis, but the role of
interpretation in the processes of oral and literary transmission has not yet been clarified.
Probably his best known reflection on an earlier Sufi is his commentary on the 157 questions
of al-Hakim al-Tirmidhi on the subject of the "seal of the saints".[2] Ibn 'Arabi also provided a
critical commentary on a treatise by the Andalusian Ibn Qasyi (d. 1151).[3]
Another notable example is Dhu al-Nun the Egyptian (d. 860), to whom Ibn 'Arabi dedicated a
special monographic study, collecting over five hundred of his sayings. This text has recently
been translated into French by Roger Deladriere from unpublished manuscripts.[4] In his
valuable introduction, Deladriere has indicated the remarkable complexity of this text. Ibn
'Arabi derived these sayings from both written and oral sources, with a good deal of
overlapping. Some of Dhu al-Nun's sayings come exclusively from written texts: 69 from Ibn
Bakuya and 114 from Kharkushi. Others, while found in standard Sufi texts, Ibn 'Arabi
received also by oral tradition: 190 from Abu Nu'aym al-Isfahani, 153 from Ibn Khamis, 75
from Ibn al-Jawzi, 21 from al-Qushayri, and 21 from Ibn Jahdam.[5] Deladriere has also
shown that parallel texts from Dhu al-Nun can be found in other Sufi sources and historical
texts: 124 in Ibn 'Asakir's history of Damascus, 171 in 'Attar's Persian hagiography, 114 in alMunawi's Arabic hagiography, and a startling 402 in al-Suyuti's biography of Dhu al-Nun.[6] A
major problem looms in clarifying the role of interpretation in the selection of these sayings.
How many of these sayings are found in a majority of later transmitters, and how many exist
only in a single source? Which sayings does Ibn 'Arabi exclude? Does the picture of Dhu al-Nun
that emerges in the works of other authors differ significantly from Ibn 'Arabi's? Another
problem occurs in the textual variations of these sayings. Quotations from early Sufi sources
can often undergo major transformations in words and authorship.[7] A great deal of close
textual work needs to be done before we can know the exact significance of Ibn 'Arabi's
interpretation of Dhu al-Nun.
In terms of textual transmission, comparison with other sources indicates that the literal
version of some of Dhu al-Nun's sayings . given by Ibn 'Arabi differs significantly from versions
known in other parts of the Islamic world. Persian and Indian Sufis quote a saying of Dhu alNun on intimacy with God as a justification for listening to music (sama'). In the later sources,
the authorship of the saying has shifted to one of its primary transmitters, so that it is now
attributed to Ruzbihan Baqli. Ibn 'Arabi and other Arab Sufis, on the other hand, saw this
saying (quoted in a significantly different form) as a description of the alternation between
states of awe (hayba) and intimacy (uns).[8] The fact that Ibn 'Arabi quoted different versions
of Dhu al-Nun's sayings than did other Sufi interpreters, or that he understood them
differently, should not be a cause for suspicion, or for privileging one of these interpreters over
another. It should rather be an opportunity to define Ibn 'Arabi's unique position in terms of his
relation to the rest of the tradition.
Returning to Abu Yazid, it is apparent that Ibn 'Arabi held the Persian in great regard, as a
mystic of remarkable attainments. Ibn 'Arabi probably makes more references to Abu Yazid

than to any other early Sufi.[9] He refers to him as one of "the people of blame" (almalmiyya), one of the highest categories of spiritual rank.[10] Abu Yazid is one of the saints
who have received every kind of divine manifestation in their breasts.[11] He is one of the
"people of unveiling and finding" (ahl al-kashf wal-wujd) who attains God through poverty.
[12] Ibn 'Arabi calls him "one of our companions"(min ashbin) who "has realized the
truth" (kna muhaqqiqan).[13] To this category of "companions" belong others such as alGhazali, "the companions of hearts, witnessings, and unveilings - not the devotees, ascetics,
or Sufis in general, but the people of realities and realization among them."[14] As one of the
"realizers of the truth" (al-muhaqqiqn), Abu Yazid holds the same view as Ibn 'Arabi on the
relation between gnosis (ma'rifa)and knowledge (cilm).[15] Abu Yazid is one of the
"substitutes" (n'ib, pi. nuwwb) who holds the degree of "interior succession" (al-khilfa albtina),both terms referring to aspects of the office of the "pole" (qutb), the supreme figure of
the spiritual hierarchy.[16] Abu Yazid's house, called "the house of the just" (bayt al-abrr), is
one of the places where spiritual influences remain at such a high intensity that the sensitive
heart can still perceive them; in this sense, like the retreats of Junayd and Ibrahim ibn Adham,
it is comparable at a lesser level to the sacred precincts of Mecca.[17] Abu Yazid is also
described as one of the "solitaries" (afrd) who have attained to God, but who return to the
world under divine compulsion.[18] In addition, Abu Yazid continues to be active as an Uwaysi
spiritual guide for later generations of Sufis (such as Abu al-Hasan al-Kharaqani), and appears
in visions to Ibn 'Arabi himself as well as to other figures such as Abu Madyan.[19] In short,
Abu Yazid is clearly an authoritative representative of early Sufism, in the view of Ibn 'Arabi.
In singling out Abu Yazid as a Sufi authority, Ibn 'Arabi was following the lead of many earlier
biographers and commentators. The first we know of was Junayd of Baghdad (d. 910), who
interrogated one of Abu Yazid's relatives about his sayings, and then translated them from
Persian into Arabic. Junayd's commentary (tafsr) on these controversial sayings is partially
preserved by Sarraj.[20] Further commentary is occasionally found in the collection of Sahlagi,
mentioned below.[21] Other important interpretations occur in the Persian commentary on
ecstatic sayings by Ruzbihan Baqli (d. 1209) and in 'Attar's (d. ca. 1220) famous Persian
hagiography.[22]
Ibn 'Arabi did not dedicate a single treatise to the sayings of Abu Yazid, as he did with Dhu alNun, so our task theoretically requires us to comb through the works of Ibn 'Arabi,
especially al-Futht al-Makkiyya, for significant references to Abu Yazid. In the scope of this
article, it will only be possible to comment on a few examples, but these will suffice to frame
the problem of how Ibn 'Arabi subtly interprets Abu Yazid in terms of his own overall
perspective. Our main check will be the largest and oldest independent collection of the
sayings of Abu Yazid, which was assembled in the eleventh century by al-Sahlagi (d. 1083)
under the title Kitb al-nr min kalimt Ab Tayfr ("The Book of Light on the Sayings of Abu
Tayfur [Abu Yazid]")- The archaic and faulty Arabic text, with full isnds, was edited by 'Abd alRahman Badawi from two MSS in 1949, and a considerably abridged French translation by
Abdelwahab Meddeb has recently appeared.[23]
We may first consider cases where Ibn 'Arabi has reported the sayings of Abu Yazid with little
or slight variation. An example is a saying on inspired exegesis. Ibn 'Arabi reports the
following:

Abu Yazid said to the exoteric scholars, "You take your knowledge dead from the dead, but we
take our knowledge from the Living who does not die!"[24]
If we compare the version given by al-Sahlagi, we find an account with the isnad plus a
slightly different context:
Yusuf ibn al-Husayn said, "I heard Istanba [Ibrahim al-Harawi] say, 'I was attending the
assembly of Abu Yazid, and the people said, "So-and-so has met so-and-so." Abu Yazid said,
"Beggars! They have taken [their knowledge] from the dead, but I have taken our knowledge
from the Living who does not die." ' " [25]
The basic point is the same, although the nuances are different. Ibn 'Arabi's version does not
refer to the people praising scholars for their direct transmission of learning from other
scholars - Abu Yazid ridiculed this as a dead letter in comparison with the living God who is
always accessible to the saint. Rather than being a comment on exoteric learning occasioned
by a chance remark, Ibn 'Arabi's version is a direct address to exoteric scholars as a class.
There are other slight differences of tense and person that make al-Sahlagi's version more
circumstantial and Ibn 'Arabi's more general. But none of this has major significance.
Another example is a saying which, shorn of context, becomes for Ibn 'Arabi an opportunity to
explain a general point about the relationship between the servant and the divine Lord. Ibn
'Arabi's comment actually precedes and sets up the quotation from Abu Yazid:
At root the servant was created only to belong to God and to be a servant perpetually. He was
not created to be a lord. So when God clothes him in the robe of mastership and commands
him to appear in it, he appears as a servant in himself and a master in the view of the
observer. This is the ornament of the Lord, the robe that He has placed upon him. Someone
objected to Abu Yazid that the people touched him with their hands and sought blessing from
him (f tamassuh al-ns wa tabarrukihim). He replied, "They are not touching me, they are
only touching an adornment with which my Lord has adorned me. Should I forbid them from
that, when it does not belong to me?"[26]
The earlier version is somewhat different. It gives a dramatic account of a meeting between
the youthful Abu Yazid and a condescending hadthscholar, to whom Abu Yazid replies with a
stunning revelation of his level of mystical experience:
A man from the Hadith Folk said to Abu Yazid, "Do you pray properly?" He said, "Yes, God
willing." So he asked, "How do you pray?" He said, "I proclaim 'God is Most Great' in
obedience, I recite with modulation, I kneel in veneration, I prostrate with humility, and I give
salutation full of peace." Then he said, "Boy, if you have this understanding, excellence, and
knowledge, why do you permit the people to touch you seeking blessing?" He replied, "They
are not touching me, they are only touching an adornment with which my Lord has adorned
me. Should I forbid them from that, when it does not belong to me?"[27]
While Ibn 'Arabi has quoted Abu Yazid's words without significant variation, his omission of the
context has displaced a story about the contrast between mystical experience and scholarly
learning and transformed it into an instance of a metaphysical relationship.

Next are cases in which Ibn 'Arabi has given a critical interpretation of Abu Yazid's saying, in
which there is a major textual difference between Ibn 'Arabi's version and Sahlagi's. Here is an
example:
Abu Yazid heard a Qu'ran reciter reciting the verse, "On the day when We shall muster the
godfearing to the All-merciful in droves" [19:85]. He wept until his tears drummed upon the
pulpit. It is also said that blood flowed from his eyes until it struck the pulpit. He cried out,
saying, "How strange! Where will he who is sitting with Him be mustered?" When it came
around to our time, I was asked about that. I replied: "There is nothing strange except the
words of Abu Yazid." [28]
Ibn 'Arabi goes on to say that the "godfearing" are those souls who are related to the divine
name "the Overbearing" (al-jabbar), not to the name "the All-merciful". He finds it peculiar
that Abu Yazid has not noticed that the Qur'an paradoxically connects the "godfearing" with
what appears to be the wrong divine name. Ibn 'Arabi explains this apparent anomaly by
pointing out that each divine name, by denoting the divine Essence, implies all the other divine
names. Elsewhere, Ibn 'Arabi introduces the same anecdote with a long comment expanding
on his doctrine of the divine names and Abu Yazid's failure to understand them.
Do you not see how Abu Yazid (God have mercy on him) acted, when he was ignorant of the
divine names and which realities are appropriate to them, on hearing [this verse?]... In this
state, he was sitting with the Names, insofar as none of them indicates the Essence; [but] he
was not with the name, insofar as... he experienced denial, or rather he experienced wonder
in a special way, which is similar to denial but is not denial, so that if this saying had been
from other than God, he would have commanded the speaker to be silent and restrained him
from that. The man only showed wonder at the word of God in respect to the godfearing who
are sitting with God; how will they be mustered to Him?[29]
Ibn 'Arabi notes that Abu Yazid was amazed at the paradox of how God will summon those
(the godfearing) who are already in His presence, but he discounts this explanation as a lack
of metaphysical comprehension.
If we turn to Sahlagi's collection, it turns out that what Ibn 'Arabi has reported is a conflation
of separate accounts of Abu Yazid's reactions to two Qur'anic verses. First, Sahlagi gives two
versions of Abu Yazid's response to the "mustering" verse (19:85):
1. "He got excited (hja) and said, 'Whoever is with Him has no need to be mustered, because
he is sitting with Him eternally.' "[30]
2. "He became ecstatic and enraptured (tawjada wa hma), and started saying, 'Whoever is
with Him has no need to be mustered, because he is sitting with Him eternally.' "[31]
These two versions only differ in the language used to describe Abu Yazid's emotional state.
The terms alluded to in each case indicate delighted ecstasy (wajd, hayajn, hayamn) rather
than doubtful wonderment.[32] Abu Yazid's remark belongs to the ecstatic critique of literal
interpretations of the afterlife. In the context of early Sufism, this follows from the
dissatisfaction with paradise as a final goal (Rabi'a, Shaqiq al-Balkhi), and it forms a part of

the outrageous ecstatic sayings that Abu Yazid and Shibli delivered about hell and judgment.
[33]
Secondly, the detail mentioned by Ibn 'Arabi, that Abu Yazid wept tears of blood onto the
pulpit on hearing the verse, occurs in Sahlagi's report of his reaction to an altogether different
Qur'anic passage:
Abu Yazid one Friday sat above the pulpit, and the preacher sat on the pulpit and preached;
when he reached this verse: "They did not truly measure the power of God" [6:91], Abu Yazid
heard, and blood fell from his eyes until it struck the pulpit.[34]*
From the content of the verse, it appears that the emotional setting for Abu Yazid's powerful
reaction was overwhelming awe. The complex situations and different textual settings of
Sahlagi's versions vary considerably from the portrayal of Ibn 'Arabi.
In one of his most intriguing sayings, Abu Yazid describes himself as the man without
attributes. This saying has been commented on several times by Ibn 'Arabi and others, with
textual variants that permit us to distinguish divergent interpretations of the saying. Ibn 'Arabi
informs us that Abu Yazid used to say, "I have no morning and no evening; morning and
evening belong to him who becomes delimited by attributes, but I have no attributes."[35] He
comments that God should be even less delimited by attributes: "The Real is more
appropriately free from limitation (taqyd) by attributes, due to His independence from the
world, for attributes are only required by existing things. If there was in the Real that which
the world requires, then it would not be correct that He be independent of that which seeks
Him."[36] In another place, Ibn 'Arabi gives the text in a slightly different form, reading
"Morning and evening only belong to one who becomes delimited by the attribute, but I have
no attribute."[37] This citation occurs in the midst of Ibn 'Arabi's lexicon of Sufi terminology
(which comprises the answer to al-Tirmidhi's 153rd question), under the definition of the term
"place"(makn):
It is a station in "expansion" (bast) which only belongs to the perfect ones who have realized
the stations and states, and who are permitted the station which is beyond majesty and
beauty; they have no attribute or description. Abu Yazid was asked, "How are you this
morning?" He said, "Morning and evening only belong to one who is limited by the attribute,
but I have no attribute."
After narrating Abu Yazid's saying, Ibn 'Arabi comments, "Our companions differ over whether
or not this saying is an ecstatic utterance (shath), but 'place' requires it of him."[38] We shall
return to the question of ecstatic utterances below, but for the moment it suffices to notice
that Ibn 'Arabi's frequent references to this saying primarily indicate his interest in the
problem of attributes and the concept of delimitation. This has theological ramifications for the
divine attributes as well as mystical significance for those who have, like Abu Yazid, gone
beyond the attributes.[39]
Other Sufis give a different version of this saying with an interpretation that follows another
line entirely. Ruzbihan Baqli follows the version given by Sahlagi: "Morning and evening only
belong to one who is held by the attribute, but as for me, I have no attribute."[40] This
version preserves a much more archaic flavor than Ibn 'Arabi's version, which uses a term

from his own technical vocabulary; instead of saying that one is "held by"(ta'khudhuhu) the
attribute, Ibn 'Arabi's version has it that one is "limited by" (taqayyada bi-) the attribute.
[41] In his original Arabic version of the commentary on ecstatic sayings, the Mantiq alasrr ("The Language of Consciences"), Ruzbihan Baqli comments that Abu Yazid's experience
of witnessing God has taken him beyond time, to participate for a moment in eternity:
By this saying he alludes to his being drowned in the vision of eternity, and none of his
attributes remains in the vision of the might of the Real. "God has no morning or evening."
Morning and evening are from the coursing of sun and moon in the heavens, and in the
conscience of Abu Yazid during the witnessing of the Real there was no existence of one who is
less than "by the Real, with the Real, in the Real". He did not perceive time, place, the
moment, or the seasons in this momentary state. I recall what the Master of the Gnostics [i.e.,
the Prophet] said, "I have a time with God."
In his own later Persian translation of the same commentary on ecstatic sayings (Sharh-i
shathiyyt), Ruzbihan appears to have had new thoughts on the subject. He now begins by
stressing passion, ecstasy, and annihilation as the main features of Abu Yazid's experience:
He alludes to ravishing (walah) and agitation (hayajn), and astonishment (hayrat) and
bewilderment (hayamn), that is: "I am intoxicated and unconscious. From hearing the
commands of creation without an ear, peace has been stripped from me, the bird of the
elements and time has flown, my soul is lost in the hidden of the hidden, the form of existence
has become changed for me, I remain in bewilderment without the attribute of wayfaring.
Having recited the existence of the verse "Everything upon it is vanishing" (fanin, Qur. 11:26,
alluding tofan'), I am in the world without any trace, lifeless in love, and in the falsification of
intellect and the confirmation of love, I cannot tell day from night.
Only after exhausting this theme does he return to the earlier interpretation of transcending
time through witnessing God:
It is also possible that he alludes to the drowning of the soul in the vision of eternity, and in
this cypher he explains that in eternity, the soul has no traces of temporal existence. "There is
no morning or evening for God."[43]
The saying "There is no morning or evening for God", also cited as hadth by other Sufi
writers,[44] brings Ruzbihan to invoke another Prophetic saying, "The time I have with God",
the eternity that is the mode of relationship between God and the prophet. He concludes, "Abu
Yazid became qualified by the all in the essence of the all."
The variance between the views of Ruzbihan and Ibn 'Arabi does not provide any grounds for
privileging one line of interpretation over any other - Ruzbihan has felt free to elaborate new
interpretations and relegate his own earlier thoughts to a secondary position. Divergent texts
and interpretations indicate rather that these Sufis used the sayings of earlier mystics as a
way to explore the possibilities of meaning and experience rather than search for a single
authoritative teaching. If we wished, we might try to reconstruct Abu Yazid's "doctrine" of
divine attributes, on the basis of a number of passages in which he uses the term sifa or
attribute.[45] Such an archeological purpose did not play a part in the projects of either Ibn
'Arabi or Ruzbihan.

Another instance of Ibn 'Arabi's reflection on Abu Yazid contains a complex meditation on two
different sayings about the all-encompassing nature of the heart.
The heart of the gnostic is infinite and contains all. Abu Yazid said, "If the Throne and all that
surrounds it, multiplied a hundred million times, were to be in one of the many corners of the
Heart of the gnostic, he would not be aware of it." This was the scope of Abu Yazid in the
realm of corporeal forms. I say, however, that, were limitless existence, if its limit could be
imagined, together with the essence that brought it into existence, to be put into one of the
corners of the Heart of the gnostic, he would have no consciousness of it. It is established that
the Heart encompasses the Reality, but though it be filled, it thirsts on, as Abu Yazid said.[46]
Is this one-upmanship? It appears that Ibn 'Arabi criticizes Abu Yazid for merely using God's
Throne as the measure of the heart, instead of all of existence and the divine essence too. Ibn
'Arabi's commentator Qashani feels required to explain,
There is no criticism here, rather he means that Abu Yazid, in his universal specification, gazed
at the realm of corporeal forms through annihilation. But if he had gazed with the eye of God,
he would have said something like [what Ibn 'Arabi said]; it was [seen by] the eye of the
realm of corporeal forms, however, which is related to the beloveds by existent things.[47]
Thus the different comparisons used by the two mystics are merely a function of their different
perspectives. The appearance of criticism is mitigated, too, by Ibn 'Arabi's reference to the
infinite thirst of the gnostic's heart, which Abu Yazid has expressed in several sayings. It
seems as though Ibn 'Arabi uses the experiences and sayings of Abu Yazid as points of
departure for exploring his own experiences.[48]
In spite of his frequent reference to Abu Yazid and the high regard in which he held him, Ibn
'Arabi shows a certain ambivalence with regard to some of his sayings. We have already seen
how Ibn 'Arabi pointed to limitations in Abu Yazid's comprehension of the divine names, and to
certain mystical perceptions that Ibn 'Arabi had surpassed. His ambivalence becomes most
pronounced when it comes to the classification of Abu Yazid's sayings as ecstatic
utterances (shathiyyt). As shown above, Ibn 'Arabi resisted the suggestion that the "no
attributes" saying was an ecstatic utterance, arguing instead that the state of "place' required
him (iqtidhu) to speak. This comment needs to be placed into the context of Ibn 'Arabi's
attitude towardshathiyyt.
In his lexicon of mystical terminology, Ibn 'Arabi briefly defined shath as "a verbal expression
having a scent of thoughtlessness (ru'na) and a claim, which issues from an
ecstasy (tawqjjud) of the realizers of truth, the people of the religious law."[49] His unease
with this category stems from its association with lack of mental control and from the
assertiveness of its claims, even though it may emerge as a result of a legitimate spiritual
state. In a fuller account of shath in Chapter 195 of al-Futht al-Makkiyya, Ibn 'Arabi
elaborated further, describing it as a legitimate spiritual claim made without any divine
command and by way of boasting (fakhr). Chittick conveys Ibn 'Arabi's disapproval of shath by
translating the term as "unruly utterance".[50] Ibn 'Arabi contrasted this irrepressible form of
speaking with the self-control of prophets such as Jesus, who only speak by God's command
and never boast. Indulging in shath is thus a result of heedlessness that never befalls the true
knower of God except by accident. Falsely claiming a spiritual state is of course nothing better

than a contemptible lie. Ibn 'Arabi rightly isolates boasting as a characteristic element
in shath, for its cultural antecedents go back to the boasting contest (mufkhara) of preIslamic Arabia.[51] Ibn 'Arabi's distinctiveness lies in his rejecting the boast as an improper
assertion of self, while other Sufis view it as a rhetorical form that is an acceptable genre for
the expression of ecstasy.
It is curious that in his discussion of shath, Ibn 'Arabi does not refer to any particular ecstatic
utterances of the Sufis, preferring instead to give examples of the sayings of Jesus from the
Qur'an by way of contrast. This is odd because on numerous occasions, Ibn 'Arabi cites famous
examples ofshathiyyt (often without mentioning the names of their authors), in the context
of other discussions, sometimes interpreting the same shath in radically different ways
depending on the context. For instance, he continues his critical attitude toward spiritual
arrogance, pointing out that those who say "I am God" or "Glory be to Me" are like Pharaoh;
this condition is only possible when one is overcome by a state such as heedlessness, and it is
not possible with a prophet or perfect saint.52 Although this remark does not mention Abu
Yazid by name, he is clearly intended, although we have no evidence of Abu Yazid using the
phrase "I am God" (an allh).[53] Elsewhere, in contrast, Ibn 'Arabi cites this very saying
favorably, to illustrate the state of "the proximity of supererogatory works" (qurb alnawfil). He says (in allusion to a hadth quds) that the only ones who can say "I am God" are
God and the perfect servant whose tongue, hearing, sight, faculties, and organs are God - an
example of this is Abu Yazid.[54] In another context, Ibn 'Arabi again refers to Abu Yazid as
one who loves God so passionately that he does not see God as different from him, and God
loves him to the point of being his hearing, sight, and tongue.[55] Ambiguously, he comments
on this state by quoting anonymously the first distich of a famous verse of Hallaj: "I am the
one whom I desire, whom I desire is I" (an man ahw wa man ahw an).[56] As in the case
of Abu Yazid, Hallaj was someone whose spiritual status Ibn 'Arabi respected, though he
expressed reservations about Hallaj's unrestrained speech.[57] A comprehensive analysis of
Ibn 'Arabi's comments on the ecstatic sayings of Abu Yazid and al-Hallaj would certainly be
desirable, but from these few examples it is clear that Ibn 'Arabi sometimes dismisses ecstatic
sayings as improper behavior, but that at other times he gives them a positive value in terms
of recognized mystical knowledge. In fact, Ibn 'Arabi makes it clear that the words of the
saints do not have any independent meaning aside from the spiritual state(hal) of the saint, as
he understands it. Regarding the interpretation of two sayings on the subject of
"gathering" (jam') by an anonymous Sufi and by al-Daqqaq, Ibn 'Arabi remarks,
He may mean this, which is the position that we maintain and that the realities bestow. If we
knew who is the author of this saying, we would judge it by his state, as we judged al-Daqqaq
through our knowledge of his station and state.
The same words could have another meaning if uttered by someone else in a different state.
To return to the "man without qualities" saying, it appears that Ibn 'Arabi regarded it as
distinct from shath or ecstatic utterance, on the grounds that the spiritual state
required (iqtid) its expression by Abu Yazid. In other words, Abu Yazid did not say it of his
own volition, as a boast, but he was in effect ordered to do so by God. In this way it remains a
valid source of spiritual knowledge rather than the willful result of thoughtlessness or frivolity.
Ruzbihan Baqli, on the other hand, classified this saying as shath without qualification; in his
view that classification, far from discrediting the saying, raised it to a level of lofty spiritual

experience. The difference lies in the varying attitudes of the two authors toward ecstatic
expressions. Yet there is a rhetorical tone in some of Ibn 'Arabi's sayings about his own
experiences that suggests shath, especially when he contrasts the experiences of others
unfavorably with his own. In terms of his own theory as just discussed, however, Ibn 'Arabi's
descriptions of his spiritual attainments do not constitute boasting, because he has not
expressed them of his own will. On numerous occasions, Ibn 'Arabi maintains that his books
and teachings have been the direct products of the divine will: "I swear by God, I say nothing,
I announce no judgment that does not proceed from an inbreathing of the divine spirit in my
heart."[59] Although technically this escapes from the reproach of boasting, since it is under
divine command, it nonetheless has the appearance of a rhetoric of transcendental hyperbole
that shares important characteristics with shath. When he says that none of his teachings
derive from his own will, Ibn 'Arabi is making the boast that he makes no boast.
To continue this line of thinking, one might view, for instance, the claims of later Naqshbandi
Sufis such as Ahmad Sirhindi as a continual raising of the stakes vis--vis earlier Sufis (such
as Ibn 'Arabi!) in a sort of spiritual one-upmanship, and it is worth noting that some of
Sirhindi's statements were also characterized as ecstatic utterances.[60] If Ibn 'Arabi's
statements are not simply taken at face value as irrefutable guides to his spiritual status, then
his critical attitude toward shath should be taken with a grain of salt. Ibn 'Arabi's dramatic
statements about his own status as the "seal of the saints", for example, place him in a
position beyond that of any other saint and only just below the prophets. To regard this as
devoid of boasting while rejecting the ecstatic sayings of Abu Yazid or Hallaj amounts to
special privilege. Unless an argument is to be made for extending this special privilege to Ibn
'Arabi, then his interpretations of earlier Sufis should be treated as exactly that. I suggest that
analysis of this kind of rhetoric of transcendental hyperbole, as an extension of the boasting
factor of shath, would be a fruitful way to approach the self-descriptions of a number of later
Sufis.
How should we understand the distinctive interpretation that Ibn 'Arabi gives to the sayings of
Abu Yazid? On the issue of selection, judgment must be deferred until a comprehensive study
can be made of all the references that Ibn 'Arabi makes to his predecessor. In terms of textual
transmission and variants we can say more, based on the examples reviewed above. It would
be trivial and idiotic to complain that Ibn 'Arabi has forgotten or willfully altered an existing
text, just because the versions that he gives sometimes differ from those found in Sahlagi and
others. The textual variants have greater significance than that. As Chittick remarks, "In his
usual manner, Ibn 'Arabi has in mind the sayings of earlier masters as the background for
what he wants to explain, but then he takes the concept... back to its deepest meaning in the
divine realities."[61] Some of the textual variants described above certainly permit Ibn 'Arabi
to expound upon his characteristic teachings on the divine attributes and the relation between
God and humanity. It is in this doctrinal level of interpretation that we find the distinctive
position of Ibn 'Arabi, in contrast with the positions of other interpreters such as Ruzbihan
Baqli. Ibn 'Arabi is also selective in how he categorizes the genre of the sayings of his
predecessors. Sayings classified as ecstatic utterances, even though proceeding from a
genuine spiritual state, cannot be accepted as sources of doctrine. Sayings that emerge by
divine necessity, untainted by the boasting of shath, may be treated as authoritative. Ibn
'Arabi does not make clear what criteria he uses to describe a statement as ecstatic boasting
rather than authoritative inspiration; he at different times considers the same statement as
falling under both categories. If Ibn 'Arabi's treatment of shath partakes, however lightly, of

the rhetoric of boasting, then his interpretation of the sayings and states of earlier Sufis also
subordinates them to his own immediate doctrinal and experiential concerns.
Beyond the question of doctrinalization, we must also attempt to understand his use of
quotations in terms of the function of texts, both written and oral, in Sufism; Ibn 'Arabi is
certainly not unique in this respect, but he has worked out his method in marvellously
complete detail. If it is true that words, like people, find their meaning in contexts, it is really
only through the revoicing of a word, through its quotation from the mouth of another human
being, that words receive life so a quotation approached in this way is not a fixed external
text that is "dead from the dead", but is instead inspired (in the words of Abu Yazid) "by the
Living who does not die". Abu Yazid's status as an Uwaysi guide, appearing directly like Khidr
to inspire later generations of Sufis, may also have contributed to the flexibility with which Ibn
'Arabi invokes him via quotation.[62]
We should recall that Ibn 'Arabi's model for a text is the Qur'an, a text that is fully
personalized, for it is inseparable from the Messenger who brings it. It is also deeply
enmeshed in the being of the perfect saint who actualizes the scripture; as Ibn 'Arabi puts it,
"the universal man is the Qur'an".[63]Ibn 'Arabi himself is a person who is fully textualized; he
maintains that "everything about which we speak, both in [my] teaching sessions and in my
writings, comes only from the presence of the Qur'an and its treasures."[64] For him, the
Qur'an, hadth, and the sayings and visions of the saints who are the inheritors of the prophets
are not separate elements to be stitched together by laborious allegoresis. They are rather a
seamless whole apprehended in a single intuition. The Qur'an (and by extension the sayings of
the saints) is for Ibn 'Arabi no dead letter, but perpetually renewed for every reciter.[65]
Quotation and interpretation, when viewed in this light, are not merely literary enterprises.
The metaphor of giving life recalls another story that Ibn 'Arabi relates about Abu Yazid. It
seems that Abu Yazid blew on an ant he had killed, and it revived; Ibn 'Arabi comments that
God blew when he blew, and it was like Jesus' miracles as recorded in the Qur'an.[66] Despite
its bizarre appearance, this story commends itself as a metaphor for quotation. As with the ant
killed by Abu Yazid, the words of the saints have undergone some violence in the course of
textual transmission, but their death is necessary before they can be inspired and revived.
Quotation, textual variation, and classification cannot be separated from interpretation. Ibn
'Arabi explained his teachings by reciting and interpreting the words of Sufi saints, so that he
could become the revivifier of the faith.

Notes
[1] An earlier version of this article was originally presented at the conference of the
Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society, "The Revivifier of The Way", Berkeley CA, 15 November 1992.
[2] Although the Cairo edition lists 155 questions (al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 39-139), Osman
Yahia's critical edition lists 157; cf. Michel Chodkiewicz, ed.,Les Illuminations de La
Mecque/The Meccan Illuminations (Paris: Sindbad, 1988), p. 500, n. 178; id., Le Sceau des
saints: Prophtie et saintet dans la doctrine d'lbn 'Arabi, Bibliothque des Sciences Humaines
(Paris: Gallimard, 1986), pp. 146 ff.

[3] Claude Addas, Ibn 'Arabi ou la qute du Soufre Rouge, Bibliotheque des Sciences
Humaines (Paris: Gallimard, 1989), pp. 77-8.
[4] Ibn 'Arabi, La vie merveilleuse de Dhu-l-Nun l'Egyptien, trans. Roger Deladriere (Paris:
Sindbad, 1988).
[5] Deladriere, La Vie, pp. 39-41.
[6] Deladriere, La Vie, pp. 42-4. Al-Suyuti's work has a similar complexity, relying on
extensive quotations from two works by Ibn Bakuya, from Abu Nu'aym, al-Sulami, and
Bayhaqi.
[7] I have explored an instance of this problem of transmission in "The Interpretation of
Classical Sufi Texts in India: The Sham'il al-atqiy' of Rukn al-Din Kashani", paper presented
at the American Academy of Religion conference, San Francisco, November 1992.
[8] For details, see my "Ruzbihan Baqli on Love as 'Essential Desire'", in God is Beautiful and
Loves Beauty: Essays in Honor of Annemarie Schimmel, ed. J.-C. Brgel and Alma Giese
(forthcoming).
[9] William Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-'Arabi's Metaphysics of
Imagination (Albany: SUNY Press, 1989), p. 387, n. 8 (hereafter cited as SPK).
[10] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 34.11 (this category includes other figures such as Hamdun alQassar and Abu Sa'id al-Kharraz)
[11] Ibid., II 40.16-17 (citing also Sahl al-Tustari); this occurs in response to the first of alHakim al-Tirmidhi's 157 questions directed to "the seal of the saints", in the first wasl of
chapter 73 of al-Futht al-Makkiyya.
[12] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 316.27; trans. SPK, p. 40.
[13] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 657.34; trans. SPK, p. 392, n. 34.
[14] Ibid., I 261.11; cf. trans, in SPK, p. 392, n. 34.
[15] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 318.30-2 (citing also Sahl al-Tustari, Ibn al-'Arif, and Abu
Madyan); trans. SPK, p. 149.
[16] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 6.15, 30-1. For commentary on these terms, see
Chodkiewicz, Le Sceau, p. 120.

[17] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya I 99.9-11.

[18] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya I 251.33, 252.10-15; cf. Chodkiewicz, Le Sceau, p. 141.

[19] Chodkiewicz, Le Sceau, p. 179, n. 3; Addas, Ibn 'Arabi, p. 87, n.l; p. 89, citing Mawqi'
al-nujm, p. 140; pp. 128-9, citing Muhdart al-abrr.

[20] Abu Nasr 'Abdallah B. 'Ali al-Sarraj al-Tusi, The Kitb al-Lum' fi't-Tasawwuf, ed. Reynold
Alleyne Nicholson, "E. J. W. Gibb Memorial" Series, vol. XXII (London, 1914; reprint edn,
London: Luzac, 1963), pp. 380-95.
[21] On Sahlagi (Arabicized as al-Sahlaki or al-Sahlaji), see Georges Vajda, "Une breve
typologie du soufisme: K. Rh al-Rh, opuscule indit de Muhammad b. 'Ali al-Sahlaki alBistami", Arabica 29 (1982), pp. 307-14.
[22] Ruzbihan Baqli, Sharh-i shathiyyt, ed. Henry Corbin, Bibliotheque Iranienne, 12 (Tehran:
Departement d'iranologie de l'lnstitut Franco-iranien, 1966), pp. 78-147, commenting on
thirty-one sayings; Abu Hamid Muhammad ibn Abi Bakr Ibrahim Farid al-Din 'Attar
Nishaburi, Kitb-i tadhkirat al-awliy', ed. R. A. Nicholson (5th edn, Tehran: Intisharat-i
Markaz, n.d.), I, pp. 129-66.
[23] 'Abd al-Rahman Badawi, Shataht al-Sfiyya, Part One, Ab Yazid al-Bistm, Darasat
Islamiyya 9 (Cairo: Maktaba al-Nahda al-Misriyya, 1949); Abdelwahab Meddeb, trans., Les
Dits de Bistami: Shataht, L'espace intrieur 38 (Paris: Fayard, 1989). Meddeb cites the Arabic
text according to a reprint of Badawi's edition, published in Kuwait in 1978; this was not
available to me.
[24] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya, I 280.25; SPK, p. 249.
[25] Badawi, Shataht, p. 77; trans. Meddeb, p. 58, no. 71.
[26] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya, III 136.8, trans. SPK, p. 323.
[27] Badawi, Shataht, p. 76 (trans. Meddeb, p. 57, no. 68).
[28] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya I 210.7, III 212.34, trans, in SPK, p. 37.
[29] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 212.34-213.10.
[30] Badawi, Shataht, p. 23, no. 24 (citing Hilya X, 41), trans. Meddeb, p. 182, no. 453 (in n.
133, Meddeb mistakenly assumes that the source for this saying is Sarraj).
[31] Badawi, Shatahat, p. 119 (trans. Meddeb, p. 129, no. 302, in a truncated form that
preserves only Abu Yazid's response).
[32] For these terms, see my "The Stages of Love in Early Persian Sufism, from Rabi'a to
Ruzbihan," in The Legacy of Mediaeval Persian Sufism, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (London:
Khaniqahi Nimatullahi, 1993).
[33] See Shibli in my Words of Ecstasy in Sufism (Albany: SUNY Press, 1985), p. 38.
[34] Badawi, Shataht, p. 110 (omitted by Meddeb, this follows the saying he numbers 253).
[35] SPK, p. 65, with note 9, giving a plural form "attributes".
[36] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya IV 319.32-3.

[37] Innam al-sabh wa al-mas' li-man taqayyada bil-sifa, wa l sifata l.

[38] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 133.21-3.
[39] Other references to the "man without attributes" include al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 646.29
(trans. SPK, p. 376); II 187.11; III 106.16 (see SPK, p. 391, n. 9). The similar expression "no
station" (Qur. 33:13) designates the rank of Abu Yazid and other "Muhammadans" who are
heirs of the prophet(al-Futht al-Makkiyya I 223.2, trans. SPK, p. 377); place (makn) is a
transcendent location for Idris (Qur. 19:57) and other perfect ones who have, like Abu Yazid,
passed beyond states and stations; cf. II 386.19 (SPK, p. 379). Other citations occur in alFutht al-Makkiyya III 177, 216, 500; IV 28. Chodkiewicz, Le Sceau, pp. 52-4, links the "no
attributes" saying with Abu Yazid's definitions of sainthood as reported by Sulami and
Qushayri.
[40] Badawi, Shataht, p. 70, repeated on p. 111. Meddeb (p. 70, no. 47) translates, "Le
matin et le soir sont pour celui sur qui l'attribut a prise; et moi, je'echappe a tout attribut."
[41] For the use of the term taqyd and related terms, see SPK, index, s.v. "qayd". The
term ta'khudhuhu recalls the Throne Verse (2:256), "Slumber does not hold him (la
ta'khudhuhu), neither does he sleep." Curiously, Ruzbihan's Persian translation does not
preserve the nuance, translating the saying as "Morning and evening belong to that person
who has no attribute..." (bmdd u shabngh n kas-r bshad kih -r sifat
bshad); cf. Shark,no. 77, p. 137.
[42] Ruzbihan, Mantiq al-asrr, MS Louis Massignon collection, Paris, fol. 83a/3 (innam alsabh wa al-mas' li-man ya'khudhuhu [sic] al-sifa, wa l sifata l).
[43] Ruzbihan Baqli, Sharh, no. 77, p. 137.
[44] 'Ayn al-Qudat Hamadani, Tamhdt, ed. 'Afif 'Usayran, Intisharat-i Danishgah-iTihran, 695
(Tehran: Chapkhana-iDanishgah, 1341/1962), p. 213.
[45] E.g., Badawi, Shataht, pp. 78 (Meddeb, p. 60, no. 79), 79 (Meddeb, p. 62, no. 88), 82
(Meddeb, p. 67, no. 110), 111 (Meddeb, p. 116, no. 260). Similarly, one might contrast Ibn
'Arabi's use of the "no attributes" saying to define makn with Abu Yazid's long description
of makn, in Badawi,Shataht, p. 75 (trans. Meddeb, p. 54, no. 63).
[46] Fuss al-Hikam Ch. VI; Ibn al-'Arabi, The Bezels of Wisdom, trans. R. W. J. Austin,
Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), pp. 101-2. Cf. also Ch. XII,
trans. Austin, p. 148, for another brief citation of this saying.
[47] 'Abd al-Razzaq al-Qashani, Sharh 'al fuss al-Hikam (2nd edn, Egypt: Mustafa Babi
Halabi wa Awladuh, 1386/1966), p. 109.
[48] Another example is Ibn 'Arabi's entry into the state of proximity or qurba, recalling the
solitude that Abu Yazid experienced on entering this state, but then reflecting that this state is
his homeland and thus is no cause for loneliness. Cf. al-Futht al-Makkiyya, II 261.2-4, trans.
Denis Gril, inIlluminations, p. 340.

[49] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 133.23-4.

[50] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 387.8-388.26, trans. Chittick, Illuminations, pp. 265-74.
[51] Ernst, Words of Ecstasy, pp. 36-40.
[52] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya I 276.2, trans. SPK, p. 320.
[53] Abu Yazid regards allah as the only divine name that cannot be applied to a creature;
Badawi, Shataht, p. 82 (trans. Meddeb, p. 67, no. 110). Abu Yazid did actually use the claim
of Pharaoh as reported in the Qur'an, "I am your highest lord" (Words of Ecstasy, p. 51), but
this may be another case in which Ibn 'Arabi treats the quotation in a flexible fashion.
[54] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya IV 11.16, in SPK, p. 410, n. 12. For the hadth al-nawfil, see
Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 1975), pp. 43, 133, 144, 277.
[55] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 361.9-11; cf. the translation of Maurice Gloton, Trait de
I'amour, Spiritualits vivantes, 60 (Paris: Albin Michel, 1986), pp. 257-8.
[56] Louis Massignon, ed., Le Dwn d'al-Hallaj (new edn, Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Paul
Geuthner, 1955), no. 57, p. 93.
[57] On Ibn 'Arabi's ambivalent attitude toward Hallaj, see Louis Massignon, La Passion de
Husayn Ibn Mansr Hallj (new edn, Paris: Gallimard, 1975), II, pp. 414-19.
[58] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya II 517.15, trans. Chittick, Illuminations, p. 284.
[59] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 101.6-7; trans. Chodkiewicz, Illuminations, p. 24. Cf. alFutht al-Makkiyya II 456, trans. Chodkiewicz, ibid.: "I have not written a single letter of this
book except under the effect of a divine dictation, of a lordly projection, of a spiritual
inbreathing at the heart of my being." The introduction to Fuss al-Hikam describes the
Prophet Muhammad handing the book to Ibn 'Arabi and ordering him to disseminate its
teachings, and commentators sometimes fall back on that to defend controversial positions.
[60] Yohanan Friedmann, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi. An Outline of His Thought and a Study of
His Image in the Eyes of Posterity (Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1971), pp. 94-6.
Sirhindi explicitly claimed a spiritual status that exceeded both Abu Yazid and Ibn 'Arabi,
observing that their claims were based on improperly interpreted experiences that his own
teachings clarified; his critics in turn charged him with arrogance. See Ghulam 'Ali Azad
Bilgrami, Subhat al-marjn f thr Hindstn, ed. Muhammad Fadl al-Rahman al-Nadwi alSiwani (Aligarh: Jami'at Aligarh al-Islamiyya, 1972), I, pp. 131-7, and Friedmann, pp. 28, 60,
62-8, 88.
[61] Chittick, in Illuminations, p. 256.
[62] I owe this insight to John Mercer.

[63] Ibn 'Arabi, Kitb al-isfr (Hyderabad, 1948), p. 17, trans. Chodkiewicz, Illuminations, pp.
42-3. From another point of view, the universe as a whole is a great Qur'an; ibid., pp. 38, 428.
[64] Al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 334.30, trans. J. W. Morris, Illuminations, p. 135; cf. p. 521, n.
64.
[65] Cf. al-Futht al-Makkiyya III 93, trans. Chodkiewicz, Illuminations, pp. 56-7.
[66] Fuss al-Hikam Ch. XV (trans. Austin, p. 179).
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