The Lost Jihad: Love in Islam

The many words and meanings for love in Arabic are reflective of Islam's comprehensiveness and depth.

"At the heart of all things is the germ of their overthrow," wrote Egyptian author Adhaf Soueif in her Booker-nominated novel, The Map of Love. She was indulging in a very beautifully written digression about Arabic grammar, comparing words derived from the same root: in this case, qalb, "heart"; and enqilab, "overthrow". At this level, where the interplay of meaning and construction is visible, Arabic becomes an extraordinary language, forcing into cooperation concepts and ideas that are entirely unrelated in English.

Despite the tremendous conceptual range and utility provided by the root-and-pattern system of the language, there is a common assumption among non-speakers that Arabic-and thus, Islam-lacks an equivalent of agapé, a Greek term used by Christians to mean the boundary-less, self-sacrificing love between believers, or between a believer and God. More passionate than filia, less explicit than eros, agapé is love stripped of expectation, in which the lover is humbled and disciplined before the beloved. Running a Google search for 'agapé' and 'Islam' yields literally hundreds of Christian sites claiming there is no such term in Arabic, and painting Islam as a cold, dispassionate religion in its absence.

Over the years, Sufi Muslims have co-opted many of the romantic Arabic words for love and made them serve an ideal very much like agapé: Rumi feels hayam for the absent Shams; al Ghazali explores 'aishq as the union between a worthy believer and a higher Beloved, Allah. The poetry of 10th and 11th-century Sufis helped inspire the troubadour culture and ideals of courtly love that flourished in the medieval kingdoms of southern France, Navarre and Aragonne; one of the positive artistic developments to arise from contact between Christian Europe and the Muslim Near East during the Crusades. But many of the greatest Sufi thinkers, including al Ghazali, were themselves influenced by Platonic, Neoplatonic and Gnostic Christian ideals of love, kept alive in the medieval Middle East by the translation of Greek, Roman and Byzantine texts into Arabic and Persian. The question remains: we know the Prophet Muhammad meant Muslims to love and serve God, but did he mean them to be in love with God-and to reflect this love and service among each other?

The answer is, simply, yes. Though it has classically been overlooked by Islam's detractors, there is a word for agapé in Arabic. It carries the same non-specific 'boundary-less' connotation as the Greek word, and is used contextually in the same way. Better yet, it is entirely original; not borrowed, adapted, or modeled on a word from another language. The Arabic word for agapé is mahubba, and it is fascinating for two reasons: one, because it comes from hub-in its feminine form. Two, because of the prefix ma. Adding the letter mim to the beginning of a word in Arabic means "one who is/does", "that which is/does", or "in a state of" the word that follows it. Junun is mad, and majnun is "one who is mad" or "in a state of madness"; baraka is a blessing, and mubarak is "one who is blessed" or "in a state of blessedness"; Islam is submission, and Muslim is "one who submits" or "in a state of submission". Thus, mahubba is quite literally 'in love', but it is rarely used in an erotic sense. It can describe either love among people or love for the divine, and is used most commonly in a spiritual context in both cases. Implicit in mahubba is service; the lover puts the beloved at the center of the discourse, and submits to his/her demands. Author Fethullah Gulen describes mahubba as "obedience, devotion and unconditional submission" to the beloved, quoting Sufi saint Rabi'a al-Adawiya's couplet, "If you were truthful in your love, you would obey Him/for a lover obeys whom he loves."

While it is, again, primarily Sufis who have propagated the ideal of mahubba over the centuries, the word and the concept have roots in mainstream Islamic tradition: verse 3:31 of the Qur'an is sometimes called 'ayat ul'mahubba', and reads "Say: if you do love Allah, follow me, and Allah will love you." Even ibn Taymiyya, one of the founders of the Wahhabi movement, said of this verse, "There can be no clearer recognition of mahubba than this, and this recognition in itself increases love for Allah. And people have discussed (at length) about mahubba: its causes, its signs, its fruits, its supports and rulings." A hadith qudsi included in the Muwatta of Imam Malik is even more explicit: "God said, 'My love [mahubbati] necessarily belongs to those who love one another [mutahubinna] for My sake, sit together for My sake, visit one another for My sake, and give generously to one another for My sake'."

Mahubba differs from agapé in one crucial respect: because serving and approaching the beloved is a form of ongoing personal struggle, mahubba is a form of jihad. A far cry from the violent and indiscriminate "small jihad" preached by militants, mahubba is a form of al-jihad al-kabir, the greater jihad, or jihad against one's own ego. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that in an age of lesser jihad mahubba has fallen out of practice and almost out of memory; it is so universally neglected that when Islam is accused of lacking a concept of divine brotherhood, few Muslims have the intellectual wherewithal to protest. But Adhaf Soueif is right: at the heart of all things is the germ of their overthrow. The struggle to serve God out of love, and one another out of love, is the jihad of human potential against the jihad of violent ideology; if resurrected, it has the power to change the world.

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G. WILLOW WILSON is a Cairo-based author and essayist. Her articles about modern Islam and the Middle East have appeared in publications including the Atlantic Monthly, the New York Times Magazine, and the Canada National Post

THE STORY OF THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN A FROG AND A MOUSE

Once on the bank of a river there lived a mouse and a frog. A very close friendship developed between the two of them. This friendship grew until it became a love relationship. By mutual arrangement they used to meet each other daily in the mornings and would converse with each other for a very long time. These meetings made both of them very happy. They used to tell stories to each other and listened to each other’s tales. They even told each other their secrets and considered each other alone as holders of their secrets. When they met they even remembered and related happenings of more than five years ago, to each other.
One day the mouse told the frog: “You are swimming around inthe water while I am here on the dry earth. I suffer the pangs of sorrowover being parted from you. I come to the edge of the water to call you,but while you are in the water, even the voice of a lover cannot beheard. I am not happy with just meeting and talking to you for a short while”. Salaah has only been made obligatory five times a day,but the true lovers of Allah Ta’ala permanently enjoy communionwith Allah through “Nafl” Salaahs.
The mouse then said to the frog: “O frog, beloved; without seeing your face at all times, I cannot find peace. By day, the sight of you is my life, by night the thought of you is my consolation and sleep. It will be q great favour on your part if you will permit me the pleasure of the opportunity of meeting you at all times.”
“It will be great generosity on your part if you will cause me the delightOf remembering me at all times with your love.You are unconcerned with my sorrows. 0, my Ameer!Kindly grant me thy kindness and please me with your company. “
The mouse told the frog: “Brother, I am a creature living on dry land and you are living in the water. I am unable to enter the water, but you are able to come to the dry land. But how will you be able to know inside the water that I have a desire to meet you?” For quite a time they discussed the problem and consulted each other. Finally, the mouse put forward a suggestion that one end of a piece of string the frog should tie to its leg and the other end to the foot of the mouse. Thus when the mouse had a desire to meet the frog he will pull the string. In the water the frog will feel the pulling of the string and thus come to the bank of the river. In this way they will be able to meet each other.
The frog considered the mouse’s suggestion to be a bad one and said to himself: “This evil minded one wishes to tie me up.” ”It is no surprise if a blind one falls into a well, Surprising when a seeing one falls into it.”
In spite of disliking the mouse’s suggestion, the’ frog found an inclination within himself to accede to the request. When a person’s desire overpowers his reason, it becomes the beginning of that persons downfall.
Maulana then proceeded to relate the story of the destruction of the frog. The two of them, by pulling the string, were able to enjoy the ecstasy of meeting each other repeatedly. Then one day the result of this bad company became a reality. A vulture came along and carried the mouse off in its claw. As the vulture flew off with the mouse, he also lifted the frog out of the water where up to now he was safe and comfortable, because the other end was tied to the frogs leg. What happened to the mouse also happened to the frog. The vulture killed both of them and ate them up. If the frog had remained in the water and not formed a friendship with the evil mouse, then nothing would have happened to him and he would have remained, safe.
related lessons found at: http://ahledil.wordpress.com/2008/06/09/the-story-of-the-friendship-between-a-frog-and-a-mouse/

Mawlana Jalal Al-Din Rumi and Islamic Spirituality

Islamica Magazine

By Muhammad Isa Waley

In ecstasy but with perfect control, the dervishes in their white tunics and tall felt hats spin round and round in an ageless ritual dance. A sudden flash of brilliant white light is followed by a moment of total annihilation. Darkness. The Java applet has run its course, and the home page returns to the screen …Far away, in the plains of central Turkey, there is a conical turquoise dome, unique in its form and beauty. Beneath it lies a medieval refugee from Central Asia. He is reported to be the best-selling poet in North America. He is widely regarded as a leading representative of the acceptable face of Islam. He is claimed as their fellow-countryman by admirers in Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, and especially Turkey. And he is also regarded by many as the forerunner, centuries in advance, of a New Age. He is the Majesty of the Faith, Muhammad son of Muhammad, of Asia Minor by residence. He is Jalal al-Din Rumi.

Search for “the name “Rumi” on the Worldwide Web and you get, as of early 2005, 822,000 “hits”. There are books light and heavy including several novels, articles, websites, calendars, paintings, exhibitions, recordings, videos, drama and ballet performances, fan clubs, and even restaurants connected in some way with him — or, at least, with his name. He has been represented as a quasi-contemporary poetic voice; as a sage tranquilly dispensing messages of love and universal tolerance; as a love poet totally out of control; and so on.

How far do the authentic voice, personality, and teachings of this remarkable man differ from the misrepresentations? What does the real Rumi have to tell us today, given that so many different ideas and viewpoints have been attributed to him?

RUMI THE MUSLIM SCHOLAR
Jalal al-Din Muhammad ibn Muhammad was born in 604/1207, either in the city of Balkh (now in Afghanistan) or perhaps in a small town called Vakhsh (now in Tajikistan). His background was a scholarly, Persian-speaking, Sunni Islam. His father Baha’ al-Din Valad was a religious scholar and a mystic whose written Meditations (Ma‘arif) clearly influenced his son. In about 1219, probably because of the threat of invasion by the Mongols, the family travelled west to Baghdad, then performed Hajj. Like many of those who had emigrated from the East, they then proceeded to Asia Minor, where they lived for some years in various towns before finally settling in Konya. By this time Jalal al-Din and his wife Gawhar Khatun had two sons. In 1231, Baha’ al-Din Valad died and was succeeded in his teaching post by Jalal al-Din, who had received a traditional training in the Islamic sciences. He was recognized as a scholar of Hanafi fiqh: and his answer to a legal question can be found in the Discourses (tr. Arberry, p.79). The next year, Burhan al-Din Muhaqqiq Tirmizi, a former disciple of Baha’ al-Din Valad, arrived in Konya to supervise Jalal’s further training. Under the guidance of Burhan, whose Persian Ma‘arif awaits serious study, the young scholar travelled the spiritual path of Sufism, learned to flourish in the hardship of asceticism (zuhd) and spiritual retreat (khalwa), and enhanced his learning and experience through two periods of study in Syria. While there he may have encountered some of the leading Sufis of the day. This period ended with Muhaqqiq’s death in 1240. Jalal al-Din was by now a respected scholar and preacher in Konya, in Sufism as well as in Hanafi jurisprudence and other religious sciences. In time he gained influence with the most important political figures of the day. Some he corresponded with, and some came to visit and learn from him.

THE SUN OF TRUTH
By now, the event that revolutionized Jalal al-Din Rumi’s life has influenced the lives of millions. In 642/1244 a wandering dervish named Shams al-Din Tabrizi arrived in Konya. In the first encounter between the two men, Shams (whose name means “Sun”) showed Jalal al-Din that there were realms of knowledge and experience that remained closed to him. Both found that in one another’s company and guidance a door to spiritual realization had become unlocked, opening the way to love in the purest form a human being can know. Intoxicated with this love, Jalal al-Din no longer cared what others thought. The radiance of Shams’ presence was the radiance of God Himself. Had not the Prophet Jacob suffered inexpressible sorrow at the loss of his son Joseph, a peerless reflection of Divine Beauty? For well over a year, Jalal and Shams were almost constantly together before Shams suddenly vanished, fleeing the jealousy of his companion’s disciples. Jalal’s loyal son Sultan Valad was sent to find him, and eventually brought him back from Damascus to Konya. Not long afterwards, however, Shams disappeared again—–this time forever.

Who was Shams al-Din Tabrizi? Contrary to general belief, a fair amount is known about him. Besides the testimony of Mawlana Rumi’s biographers, his collected miscellaneous sayings (Maqalat) in Persian have survived. Shams was a highly educated man, a Shafi‘i who had studied numerous works on fiqh. It was part of his way as a Sufi to conceal his true self from others and to shun respectability and diplomatic behaviour. We learn from the Maqalat that the main purpose of Shams’s travels was to find a true Friend of God (Wali Allah), or saint. In the Maqalat (no.385) he describes his first meeting with Mawlana. According to this version, Shams questioned him about the great Iranian Sufi Bayazid Bastami and why he had not found it necessary to say to God, as the Blessed Prophet had said, “We have not known You as You deserve to be known.” The Maqalat also reveal how greatly Shams admired Jalal al-Din as a scholar and spiritual figure who possessed qualities that he did not, and served as a teacher to him. Thus the relationship was not of the normal type between master and disciple.

Although Mawlana Rumi suffered grief at the loss of his teacher, it must be remembered that as a spiritual master he knew—–through realization, not in theory alone — that all that is worth loving is ultimately attributable to the Divine Beloved and to no other. But Shams al-Din had demanded of him everything he had, in order that he transcend the bounds of conventional, cautious piety in the quest for complete illumination. What he mourned so eloquently was the loss of that overwhelming inner sunlight, and of the companion — for him the Perfect Guide — but a scruffy, boorish impostor in the eyes of many — who had completed his spiritual direction and been his continual inspiration.

RUMI’S LATER LIFE
With time, the impact of the trauma waned. That which Shams had essentially represented to him Jalal al-Din now found within himself, and in companions like Husam al-Din Chalabi, the chief inspiration of his immense poetical masterpiece, the Mystical Mathnawi. His equilibrium regained, Rumi lived on for over twenty years, supervising the training of his disciples (some of which was deputed to others) and teaching through discourses, letters, and poetry. His death in 672/1273 was mourned not only by Muslims but also by Konya’s large Christian population. The future direction of the spiritual brotherhood rested in the capable hands of Sultan Valad. Founder of what became known as the Mevlevi Sufi Order (Tariqa), Valad was also an able administrator, diplomat and writer whose works include the collected Discourses, a Diwan, and a three long didactic poems that together form an inside account (with some poetic exaggerations) of his father’s life.

MYSTICAL POETRY
Rumi’s lyric poetry has the intensity of a man who has given everything, lost everything, and once again found everything. At times, praise of Shams reaches near-blasphemous heights. It is as though the light of his spiritual being was nothing other than the Divine Light itself. The poems are collected in the Diwan, originally known as Diwan-i Shams al-Haqa’iq or Diwan-i Kabir (the Great Diwan), which comprises about 40,000 verses, composed over more than thirty years. Besides ghazals, there are also quatrains and longer stanzaic poems. Most are in praise of love of the Divine and the ecstasy of the lover “crazy” enough to give everything in his quest for the Beloved. Seyyed Hossein Nasr has aptly described them as “crystallizations” of spiritual states; closeness to God, longing, separation, hope, fear, self-reproach, exultation. They also contain narratives with morals, generally in briefer form than in the Mathnawi. These poems were chanted at the assemblies of Mevlevi dervishes. Later manuscripts and editions include many inauthentic poems. Several found their way into Selected poems from the Diwan-i Shams-i Tabriz, an early work of the same R. A. Nicholson whose excellent edition and painstaking translation and commentary of the Mathnawi have earned him the epithet Nikulisan (“of goodly tongue”) from Husayn Ilahi Qumsha’i, a leading scholar of Persian thought and literature.

Rumi claimed not to care for poetry, alleging that he only composed it to please his audience, who had not the same appetite for sermons as people in Central Asia. Arberry and others, following Sultan Valad’s imagery, assert that Jalal al-Din was “wholly incapable of controlling the torrent of poetry that poured forth from him.” But the quality of the poetry shows technical mastery as well as eloquence and ingenuity. One of the Tarji‘at comprises seven stanzas of twelve couplets, and their coherence is exemplary. Rumi also uses a wider variety of metres than any other Persian poet. The range of imagery and symbolism employed testifies to an extraordinary power of unitive vision.

Here are two examples of the way the poet sets the stage, evoking the quality of the moment, at the beginning of a stanzaic poem.

Though your heart grow weary and you tire
of life,
you time-waster, this is one journey you can’t avoid.

And again:

How sad that night has fallen and we’ve all separated!
Happy the one whose friend and companion
at night is God!

THE MYSTICAL MATHNAWI
This brings us to the Mathnawi, Jalal al-Din’s masterpiece. This immense poem, which is a kind of treatise in rhyming couplets on Islamic spirituality comprising six parts, is also quanti-tatively vast, comprising over 25,000 verses. Those who know Arabic but not Persian may be interested to read the beautiful prefaces to the six Books (daftars). Each deals with one or two themes of spirituality. The fifth, for example, sets out the relationship between the Sacred Law (Shari‘a), Inner Reality (Haqiqa), and the Way (Tariqa). The Mathnawi was famously praised by the Sufi poet and metaphysician ‘Abd al-Rahman Jami (d. 1492) as being “the Qur’an in Persian.” This is poetic hyperbole; but certainly the Mathnawi offers, amongst other things, profound commentary on many passages of the Holy Qur’an. The Orientalists’ notion that the Mathnawi is rambling and lacking coherence is a serious error, for while the connecting thread may at times be subtle, time and again two or more themes are skilfully interwoven, left for a page or so, then resumed. While most of the tales in the poem are not original, the poet’s treatment of them is. Between the stories come passages in which the moral is dwelt upon (perhaps another reason for comparison with Islam’s Holy Book). The Mathnawi is like a kaleidoscope in which the author puts on view the multiple patterns of human existence. Mawlana himself described the poem as the Shop of Unity.

SHAMS AND AUTHENTICS OF THE NEW-WHIRLED
“All have — in their own view—–become my close companion; / they have not sought the secrets from within me.” These words from the prologue to the Mathnawi have proved to be prophetic.

One kind of writing about Rumi emanates from writers whose success in presenting him as “relevant” and as speaking with a contemporary voice has earned their work tremendous popularity. By far the most popular and influential translator is Coleman Barks, an American professor of English literature who collaborates with Iranian-born John Moyne (born as Mu‘in). Barks has sold a phenomenal number of books, and is also an accomplished public reciter. Another contemporary poet, Robert Bly, takes a similar view as to where to pitch the balance between accuracy and using familiar expressions. They have brought Rumi to the masses even if (as Frank Lewis, author of the one indispensable English book on Rumi, puts it) the poet had to become a naturalised American in the process.

Another kind of writing presents Jalal al-Din as a sage whose storehouse of colourful wisdom provides limitless material to present in handy, soundbite-sized pieces in various media: calendars, little “books of wisdom” that hang around the checkout areas of bookstores like candy bars in supermarkets; and even Tarot-style cards.

Mawlana Rumi is often presented to the unwary as an apostle of tolerance who readily accepted all religious faiths as equally valid manifestations of a universal religion of love. Verses that appear to support this view include the following: “What is to be done, o Moslems? For I do not recognise myself / I am neither Christian, nor Jew, nor Gabr, nor Moslem” and “The man of God is beyond infidelity and religion / to the man of God right and wrong are alike” (Selected poems from the Diwan-i Shamsi Tabriz, pp.125 & 31). But the poems in question are not present in any manuscripts from the first few centuries after Rumi’s death. Found in Indian printed editions, they were misattributed by admirers with ideas and motives of their own, and are altogether out of tune with Rumi’s poetical style and his thinking.

It is quite true that Mawlana saw positive things in non-Muslims, as he saw the good aspect of all things. Otherwise, he would hardly have (for example) written letters of counsel to Gurji Khatun, a Georgian princess, wife of Parvana Mu‘in al-Din who was governor of Konya under the Mongols and used to visit Mawlana. His rejection of Christian doctrine, however, is made very clear in an abrupt dismissal of the allegation that Muslims secretly accepted that Jesus Christ was God: “How could it be that a frail body, fleeing from the Jews’ plotting from place to place, whose form was less than two cubits, should be the preserver of the seven heavens … Moreover, before Jesus is He who was the Creator of the heavens and the earth — glory be to Him, above what the wrongdoers assert!” (Discourses, tr. Arberry, pp.134–5).

Some of the mistranslations perpetrated by writers working with Persian-speaking collaborators seem too dire to be accidental. Possibly some arise from the desire to “reach out to a wider readership” regardless of any need for fidelity. In any case, although all these writers have contributed to Rumi’s worldwide renown and acclaim, the reader should be warned that what they are getting is sometimes a “filtration” rather than a translation. Here are a couple of examples. For a longer, though selective, list by Ibrahim Gamard including full details and footnotes, readers with internet access are recommended to visit the following website URL: www.dar-al-masnavi.org/corrections_popu- lar.htm.

The original meaning of the lines which Barks and Moyne (Open secret: versions of Rumi, p.71) render as: “If you don’t have a woman living with you, why aren’t you looking? If you have one, why aren’t you satisfied?” is plain enough. They were accurately translated by Arberry as follows: “If you have no beloved, why do you
not seek one? And if you have attained the Beloved, why do you not rejoice?” Elsewhere, Barks attributes this to Mawlana Rumi: “Listen and obey the hushed language. Go naked.” Arberry, reliable if unpoetical, renders this as “Unto his hushed lament / attend thou obedient. Go not without the veil / so runs his whispered tale.” What this line actually means is that one should not divulge to others the secrets of divine love. In fairness to Coleman Barks, one must add that some of his versions manage to both sparkle with life and come close to the wording of the original.

When the work of translators who do not know Persian is followed and “improved on” by others, the results are sometimes bizarre. In one edition of Arberry’s translations of selected poems from the Diwan, the word “blind” was misprinted as “blond”. Barks, applying selectively the principle of taqlid (imitation) then came up with the following:

I know it’s tempting to stay and meet those blonde women. I know
it’s even more sensible to spend the night here with them, but I want to be home.

What Arberry wrote (Mystical poems of Rumi: second selection, Chicago 1979, p.76) was this:

Bright-hearted companions, haste, despite all the blond [= “blind”] ones, to home, to home!
You reasonable, sober, full of sorrow, do not dis-turb our hearts! To home, to home!

This spectacular instance of “the blind misleading the blind” also exemplifies the kind of anachronisms visited on the memory of Rumi by those anxious to make him speak in terms easily accessible to the person in the street today.

Another popular translator, Shahram Shiva, is of Iranian extraction but has lived in New York for many years. Besides having translated a good many Rumi poems, some of them (like the famous poem beginning “Come back, come back, whoever you may be”) are both inauthentic and unfaithful to the true Rumi, Shiva performs readings in public and maintains a sizeable website. He also operates one of the modern “spin-offs” of the Mevlevi tradition: having developed by himself a special technique of “whirling”, he teaches courses on “whirling” in this art.

The potential of Rumiesque teachings to enhance present-day self-development exercises has been grasped by famous exponents such as Deepak Chopra. Through their influence, in turn, famous personalities such as the singer and actress Madonna have become acquainted with the sage of Konya and expressed enthusiasm for his teachings.

Yet another category of Rumiana emanates from thinkers who have engaged in a serious way with Jalal al-Din and Shams al-Din as Muslim holy men whose importance is universal because of their unique intensity and accessibility. Andrew Harvey, an English dropout from academia and follower of the Hindu Mother Meera, has analysed some key passages from Mawlana Rumi. His translations, however, tend to be discoloured by his apparent desire to find homosexual interpretations and by a predilection for expressions such as “fiery” and “burning” even where the poem has no mention of them. “Rumi is one of the greatest mystic poets in the world. He is also, I believe, of all the great poets and religious masters that we have, the supreme master of adoration” (The Way of Passion, p.3–4). “The Path that Shams has set down for humanity and that Rumi is talking about demands total sacrifice. Rumi and Shams are not talking about having mystic feelings; they are talking about burning away to become the Beloved, to live as the Beloved.” (Ibid., p.79).

The above examples apart, the manifestations of the new cult of Rumi are too numerous to cover in the present article. Chapter 15 of Lewis’s admirable book covers many of them. More positively, the widespread recognition of a Muslim saint and writer as having a message uniquely fitted to the needs of our time marks a new epoch in postmodern appreciation of Islamic thought and spirituality.
THE LEGACY AND INFLUENCE OF MAWLANA
AND THE MEVLEVIS AMONG MUSLIMS
Revered throughout the Islamic world, Rumi is also of course a spiritual figurehead to Muslims. The sources are replete with miraculous stories, but the simple realities are impressive enough. Mawlana is at the same time a sage, love’s madman, and a poet of supreme power and virtuosity.
In Turkey, Egypt, Syria and other lands of the Near East, the Mevlevi Order — whose rules and organization were largely set down by Sultan Valad — continued to thrive for centuries, gradu-ally acquiring a Turkish acculturation. The Mevlevis were especially influential in Ottoman Turkey; many important statesmen, ulema, and men of letters belonged to the Order. In some mosques, Mesnevihans were employed to chant the Mathnawi for the benefit of pious deceased Muslims who had left funds for the purpose. The Mevlevis became famous in Europe as the Whirling Dervishes; tourists were allowed into certain Mevlevihanes to witness the sema ritual. Sufi brotherhoods in the Republic of Turkey were outlawed by Atatürk, and although Mawlana’s tekke and tomb in Konya soon reopened as the “Mevlana Museum” the Order itself was driven underground, to be popularized towards the end of the twentieth century by Suleyman Hayati Dede, who initiated many Westerners. Several decades passed before the sema was performed again in public — this time as a promotion of the Konya Tourist Board and as a professional touring outfit. Whatever the circumstances, the ceremony never fails to move spectators.

In Persian-speaking and -reading lands, the Mathnawi was cherished and revered, and (as with other poetical masterpieces) a great many ordinary working people did and do study and cherish the work, learning parts by heart. The Diwan was mostly the province of dervishes who sang it in their sessions of sema (musical remembrance of God), until in modern times it finally entered the purview of Iranian literary scholarship. Above all, though, it is the wisdom in Rumi’s teachings that is most prized among Muslims. His predecessors among didactic Persian Sufi poets, Sana’i and ‘Attar, were giants. No one, however, has rivalled Rumi in accessibility and universal appeal. In the next section we shall look at a few passages from his writings.

THE NATURE OF REALITY: THE INSIDE STORY
ACCORDING TO MAWLANA (MATHNAWI TEXTS)
One of the Mawlana Rumi’s exceptional qualities is the facility with which he resolves some of the thornier problems of dualities. For those perplexed as to the relation between such alternatives as predestination (qadar, jabr) and freewill (ikhtiyar), outer form (surat) and inner reality (ma‘ni), meditation (fikr) and invocation (dhikr); and for those fearful of life’s inevitable hardships and of death, there are words of pro-found, non-simplistic wisdom that bring solace and enlightenment.

A keynote of Rumi’s thought is that on the level of ultimate truth (haqiqa) the appearance of individual existences apart from Allah Most High is illusory (see e.g. Mathnawi I, 1783–8). Attachment to our customary sensory perception things stops us seeing them as they truly are:

my advice: the body’s a powerful bond.
Rid yourself of the old, if you want something
new …
This realm of not-being looks like real Being
and that realm of real Being is very concealed …
Eyes that are of dust look upon what is dust;
eyes that see the ether are another kind.
(Mathnawi, II, 1270, 1280, 1284; cf. V, 1026-43).

Allah Most High is always with us:

For the King whom they failed to plainly see
was invisibly with them their whole lives through—–
just as reason’s the governor of your body
though your vision’s too weak to perceive
it so.
Is it any wonder that reason’s Creator
is also with you, while you are unaware? …
There’s no creature that is not connected to Him,
though that link defies all description,
my friend.
(Mathnawi IV, 3677–80, 3695).

Seeing things as they truly are involves breaking through one’s normal perception of the world of forms to see the Reality and the meaning that informs them (Mathnawi, III 578–80). “Man is an immense volume; within him all things are written; but veils and darknesses do not allow him to read that knowledge within himself … Consider when these darknesses and veils are removed, how then he will be apprised and what varieties of knowledge he will discover within him!” (Discourses, tr. Arberry, pp. 61-2). The spiritual Path is also the means to discover one’s true self behind the layers of pretence and illusion (Mathnawi VI, 3774–6):

This apparent “you” which you take to be you
is dimension-bound, while you’re beyond dimensions.
Your true you is buried inside something else.
I’m the slave of the man who can see his true self.
He is you—–not this “you”, but the you
that is waiting and will emerge in the end.

Lastly what you get, here and Hereafter, is what you give: “This world is like a mountain, and all you say / comes back to you, carried by the echo.” (Mathnawi II, 2188).

ASPECTS OF THE SPIRITUAL STRUGGLE
AND REALIZATION
It will by now be apparent that Jalal al-Din Rumi does not favour simplistic solutions or wishful thinking. Nor, again, does he offer a systematic philosophy. Anyone who knows his writings will have his or her own favourite passages. What follows is a small selection, covering just a handful of themes.

The importance of sorting out one’s priorities in life is illustrated in a story about a self-important specialist in grammar who sits down in a boat and asks the boatman whether he has ever studied grammar. “No” comes the reply. “Then half your life has gone to waste!” the grammarian exclaims. Both men are silent, until suddenly the vessel begins to founder in a whirlpool. “Have you ever learned to swim, good sir?” enquires the boatman. “Never,” his passenger replies.” “Then the whole of your life has gone to waste!” says the other. “We’re sinking.” (Mathnawi I, 2835-42)

Rumi adds this commentary:

Once you’ve died to your mortal attributes,
the Sea of Mysteries will bear you on its crown.
O you who once called everybody an ass,
this time round you are left like an ass on the ice!
You might be the world’s top scholar in this time;
but see how they perish, this world and this time!
(Mathnawi I, 2843–5).

We are all heading for the Next World, in which meanings take form; in this world, we are all liable to find ourselves in mortal peril, spiritually or physically. Hence it is vital, while still alive, to learn to swim: that is, to make progress in the world of inner meaning.
The approach to zuhd, detachment from worldly things, advocated by Mawlana (who had ample experience) entails finding a healthy balance rather than going to extremes. Essen-tially this means making worldly goods a means rather than an end. To continue with the aquatic theme: “Water inside the boat spells destruction / the water beneath the boat supports it.” (Mathnawi I, 985).
Success in achieving this balance requires that one overcome the nafs, the ego — not by crushing it but by understanding its nature and its ways; by training it; and by learning how to make it serve one instead of serving it. For most of us, this involves a struggle.

You too are bad to others outwardly,
and inwardly kind to your precious ego.
It is truly your enemy, yet you feed it candy
while outwardly thinking the worst of everyone.
You’re blind and blindhearted, just like Pharaoh:
kind to enemies, humiliating the innocent.
(Mathnawi IV, 1918–2019).

This is all the more essential because the nafs steals the goodness from us without our even noticing. That means attention to priorities again:

We keep putting wheat into this granary,
then losing the wheat that’s accumulated.
We don’t use our minds to work it out:
that the lost corn is due to a mouse’s tricks.
A mouse has bored its way into our granary,
and thanks to its tricks our store has been ruined.
Dear friend, first get rid of this mouse-pest
– and then get excited about collecting wheat!
(Mathnawi I, 377, 3798–80).

This call to become spiritually active rather than passive is characteristic. It is easier to show determination once we understand that troubles come to teach and remind us that this world of misadventure and mediocrity is not our true home (Mathnawi III, 413–58).

In times of pain or death you turn that way
[towards God];
why are you ignorant when your pain ’is gone?
When trials come you start invoking God;
when they are gone you ask “Which way from here?”
This comes about because he who knows God
without a doubt’s forever set on Him.
But he who’s veiled by reason and by doubts
is sometimes hidden, sometimes wild, distraught.
Partial reason’s sometimes on top, sometimes below;
Universal Reason is immune to all disaster.
Sell Reason. Buy Bewilderment instead.
Go to abasement, son, not to Bukhara.
(Mathnawi III, 1141–6)

Here “Bukhara” represents the material world or the realm of formal learning. The way to draw near to God lies not through becoming something or going somewhere, but through “becom- ing not”, as it were: admitting one’s existential poverty so that the Divine Qualities may mercifully cover one’s own—–What our Lord looks for in us is a needy, contrite heart.

I look at you through those who have [great] hearts,
not at prostration marks, or gifts of gold …
O rich man, you may bring a hundred sacks;
but God will say, “Bent man, bring me your heart!
If your heart’s pleased with you then I am pleased.
If it’s against you, I’m against you too.
It’s not you that I look at, but your heart.
Beloved, bring that as your gift to My door.”
(Mathnawi V, 870, 881–3)

Generosity towards our fellow humans involves being a friend, a well-wisher, to one and all. The people you help may turn out to be Awliya’ Allah, the Friends of God (Mathnawi II, 2141–9).

To sum up: be a friend to everyone:
fashion friends out of stone, like an idol-sculptor.
Since you don’t have eyes that perceive the Inward,
presume that all beings contain some treasure.” (Mathnawi II, 2150, 2155).

The power of repentance — another essential of the Path — is illustrated by a story of the Caliph Mu‘awiya and the ritual prayer that he almost missed, the penitence for which would have brought him more benefit than the prayer he actually performed on time (Mathnawi II 2604-2792).
The need for patient endurance on the path and submission to the sheikh is illustrated by a charming image of a housewife cooking chick-peas in a pot and explaining how this ordeal is necessary so that they may come joyfully to maturity in a palatable form (Mathnawi, III 4159–4211). On the other hand, vigilance is called for in moments of success or happiness, lest the blessing be lost (Mathnawi IV 2145–53).

The Holy Qur’an (20:14, 29:45) specifies that
the daily prayers are to be instituted for the sake of remembering Allah. Hence acts of worship devoid of presence of heart are of little value.
As Sheikh Ibn ‘Ata’Illah al-Iskandari puts it, “Actions are static forms; it is sincerity that puts the spirit (or life) into them.” (al-Hikam al-‘Ata’-iyya, [10]). Sufis believe that a spiritual method- ology is essential if our worship is to be sincere. Faith increases and decreases, and has to be nourished.

Someone asked what there was that was superior to prayer. One answer is what I have already said, that the “soul” of prayer is better than prayer, as I then explained. The second answer is that faith is better than prayer. Prayer consists of five times’ performance, whereas faith is continuous. (Discourses, tr. Arberry, p. 43).

Those travelling the Path must fully submit to the guidance of a living Sheikh:

Once you’ve chosen a sheikh, don’t be feeble- hearted;
don’t be weak and crumbly like water and earth.
And if every blow gets you full of anger—–
unless burnished, how can you become a mirror? (Mathnawi I, 2979–80)

To show that there is “no gain without pain”, Mawlana tells the following tale (Mathnawi I, 2981–3001). The strongmen of Qazvin in Iran were accustomed to have themselves tattooed. One customer asks for a lion to be emblazoned on his shoulder. The tattooist starts work on
the lion’s tail; but the pain is too much for his customer, who insists that the tail be left out. The same happens when the tattooist begins to draw an ear, and again with the lion’s belly. Enraged and at a loss, the artist flings down the needle: “Whoever saw a lion with no tail, head or belly? God Himself never created such a lion!”

Rumi comments, stressing the need to leave our “comfort zone” behind (Mathnawi I, 3002, 3009–12):

Brother, bear the pain of the needle to escape
the pain your fire-worshipping ego inflicts …
What does learning God’s Unity really mean?
To burn your self up in the presence of the One.
If you wish to shine as bright as daylight
then burn up your self, which is dark as night.
Cultivate your existence in the Truly Existent;
melt away like copper in the Elixir.
You have both hands clamped onto “I” and “We”.
All this spiritual ruin stems from these two.

FINALE
We have travelled swiftly over a vast landscape, pausing briefly to take in a few special beauty spots and landmarks. In conclusion, perhaps the most vital message from Rumi is that the purpose of human existence can only be fulfilled by those who seek to transcend their lower selves.

It is through sacrifice, in the highest sense of recognizing everything as coming from and belonging to God, that we can “get a life” in this world, achieve an inward “Islamic state,” and gain everlasting joy Hereafter. This points to the uniqueness of the true human purpose: to know and serve Allah Most High. What, if anything can make this not only possible but easy? Simply this: to be in love with Him.

Since [God] is beyond all, better than all, nobler than all, and subtler than all, how could He be desired for the sake of something lesser? So “to Him is the final end.[cf. Qur’an 53:42]”.Once they have reached Him they have reached their complete goal, which cannot be surpassed, This human soul is a place of doubts and difficulties. It can never be rid of doubt and difficulties by any means unless it truly falls in love. Then all its doubts and difficulties vanish.” (Fihi ma fihi, ed. Furuzanfar, p.101; cf. Discourses, tr. Arberry
p.112–3).

[About the Author]

Muhammad Isa Waley is Curator of Persian and Turkish Collections at the British Library, London. He has a doctorate in Persian Literature from the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, his thesis being a critical edition and annotated translation of the stanzaic poems (Tarji‘at) of Jalal al-Din Rumi. He has published a number of articles on mediaeval Sufi literature and on Islamic manuscript studies.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE RISALE-I NUR: F.A Yavuz

Before discussing the unique language of the Risale-i Nur, we had better have a look at the style of the Qur'an.
Although there is no problem of any theological value, theoretical or practical, which the Qur'an has not dealt with, and it surpasses all scriptural records of pre and post Islamic ages in the abundant variety of its contents, its method of approach, presentation is exclusive and unique to itself. It never deals with a topic in the way ordinarily used by any author of a theological treatise or even in any (as was once conjectured) apostolic writings. On the contrary it expressly says that it has adopted a special manifold method of its own which may be termed as tasrifi, i.e. display of varieties or changing the topics and shifting from one subject to another or reverting to the previous one and repcating deliberately and purposefully one and the same subject in unique and peculiar rhythmic and recitative forms to facilitate the under standing, learning and remembering of it.
The display of varieties linked together with a rhythm of peculiar pitch is to show forth the signs of the Unity of God. The Qur'an aims to stir up the depth of human intellect to reflect on the unity in variety and harmony in diversity. Through this unique style of its, the Qur'an also shows the inter relatedness, interdependence and interconnectedness of things in the universe. As three 'hooks' of God Almighty, the universe, the Qur'an and man are regarded as the three expressions of the same truth. For this reason, the universe is called macrocosm, while man, microcosm. However, we also call the universe macro-human being and man. micro universe.
It is a fact that the holy Qur'an deals in its different chapters, each of which has it own rhythmic patterns, with different topics in different ways, and this variety adds to its unique beauty and matchless eloquence. An attentive reciter or in intelligent audience of the holy Qur'an while experiencing these varieties of rythrnical pattern. enjoy it to the extent that 'the skins of those who fear their Lord shiver with the recitation of it and their hearts soften to the remembrance of God'.
In order to judge the language and style of the Risale-i Nur, we should consider the style of the Qur'an and the mission of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi. Bediuzzaman was not a writer in the usual sense of the word. He wrote because he had a mission: he struggled against the materialistic and atheistic trends of thought fed by science and philosophy and tried to present the truths of Islam to modern minds and hearts of every level of understanding. Bediuzzaman was a preacher and therefore, rather than writing, he spoke and dictated. It is because of this that some parts of the Risale-i Nur were written in quite a short time. For example, the Nineteenth Letter, called the Miracles of Muhammad, which covers about more than one hundred pages, was written in ten hours. He poured out his inspirations coming like welcome rain, without missing a single word.
Second, the Risale-i Nur, like the Qur'an, mainly concentrated on the existence and Unity of God, the Resurrection, Prophethood, the Qur'an, the invisible realms of existence, Divine Destiny and man's free will, and worship and man's place and duty among the creation. Everything in the universe, all natural phonemena and events in human history provide signs and arguments for the truth of all these Islamic essentials. In fact, all things and events in the universe and man's individual and social life originate in God's Names. These Names manifest themselves in two ways: almost all of them are manifested on a single thing or being but in degrees. For example, we can observe on man the manifestations of nearly all of such of the Names as the All-Merciful, the Provider, the Protector, the All- Powerful, the All-Willing, the All-Wise, the All-Knowing, the All-Seeing, the All-Hearing, etc. However, on each human being one or a few of these Names excel others in in~inifrst'iiion with the others dependent on them. If, for example, the Name the All-Wise is prominently manifested on a man, that man will distinguish himself with wisdom. If the Nature the All-Knowing has prominence in manifestation on another one, then that one will have reputation for being knowledgeable. This kind of manifestation is called the maninfestation of Oneness. The other kind of manifestation is that a Name manifests itself on all things or beings, which we call the manifestation of Unity. So, while studying different beings and entities to show how they point to the Existence and Unity of God Almighty, you will have to make some repetitions. This is also what the Qur'an does.
Thirdly. in order to remove from peoples minds and hearts the accumulated 'sediment' of false beliefs and conceptions to purify them both intellectually and spiritually, and also in order to strengthen and reinforce Muslims in belief. Bediuzzaman writes forcefully and makes reiterations. He writes in neither an academic nor a didactic way; rather he addresses both minds and hearts at the same time and frequently appeals to feelings and thus aims to pour out his thoughts and ideas into peoples' hearts and minds in order to awaken them to belief and conviction and rouse them to wise action in the way of God Almighty. Also, while judging the language and style of the Risale-i Nur, we should also consider why Muslims have to recite surulh al-Fatiha in each rak'ah of daily prescribed prayers, in which they pray to God Almighty: Guide us to the Straight Path. They do that because it is probable for man to go astray at any moment of his life and therefore he needs God's uninterrupted protection of him against devia tions throughout his life. It is due to this human reality, 'lamely man's susceptibility to going astray, that the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, declared: 'Renew and refresh your faith with La ilaha illa Allah.' So, it is vital for man's preserving his faith that he should always be reminded of the truths of Islamic faith and his mind and heart should be continuously fed with new arguments for them.
Fourthly, like the Qur'an, the Risale-i Nur addresses all levels of understanding. Since the majority of people are, by definition, of average ability in their power to understand the truths of belief, both the Qur'an and the Risale-i Nur seem at first sight to be simple. They usually speak in parables and comparisons and take into consideration even the weakest understanding. However, they are like an ocean, the deeper you go in them, the more you come to understand that they are too deep to fathom in their entirety. Everyone from the least clever individual to the most learned scholars and scientists have their share in them.
The style and language of the Risale-i Nur are unique. Most of the arguments which Bediuzzaman used are wholly original, and he is also unique and original in many of his approaches. If readers, of whatever intellectual level, study the Risale-i Nur attentively, they will find themselves rewarded and satisfied both intellectually and spiritually. The more you devote your attention more you will be attracted to it.