ALLAHU AKBAR..

FROM MY HEART ALLAHIM.... THIS IS TO YOU ONLY TO YOU... ONLY YOU KNOW ME, ALLAHIM...ONLY YOU CAN TO HELP ME..ONLY YOU CAN TO MAKE WHAT I NEED,
TO MODIFY WHAT TO NEED... TO BE BETTER WHAT NEED... ONLY YOU CAN TO FORGIVE ME... AND TO MAKE THOSE HEART, WITHOUT LOVE TO WORK FOR THE TRUTH LOVE... AND UNDERSTAND WHAT IS THE TRUE LOVE... MY ALLAHIM.. FORGIVE ME...
I , YET, AM TO LEARNING... TO BE, GOOD MUSLIM, MY ALLAH....









NÃO USE DE ENGANAÇÃO, NÃO USE AS PESSOAS, NÃO SE PONHA ENTRE CASAIS, NÃO SEPARE FAMILIAS, NÃO FALE DA VIDA ALHEIA.
TENTE SER MELHOR A CADA DIA. TEMA ALLAH CC COM FEVOR.
TODOS NÓS SABEMOS QUE COLHEREMOS O QUE SEMEAMOS.
CUIDE DE SUA VIDA. NÃO CUIDE DA VIDA ALHEIA.
SE NÃO PUDER AJUDAR, NÃO ATRAPALHE. NÃO SE PONHA NO CAMINHO.
ALLAH CC NOS DEU UMA UNICA VIDA, CABE-A NÓS CUIDAR DELA !














Friday, November 25, 2011

Muslim Saints






Muslim Saincts

and  Mystics





Episodes  from the Tadhkirat al-Auliya’ (Memorial  of the Saints) by Farid al-Din Attar


The origins of Sufism
Sufism is the name  given to the mystical  movement within  Islam; a Sufi is a Muslim  who dedi cates himself  to  the  quest  after  mystical  union (or,  better  said,  reunion)  with  his  Creator The name is Arabic in origin,  being derived from the word  suf meaning  “wool”; the Sufis were distin- guishable  from  their  fellows by wearing  a habit of coarse  woollen  cloth,  in time when  silks and brocades  had become the fashion  of the wealthy and mundane-minded, symbolic of their renunci- ation  of worldly  values and their abhorrence for physical comforts.
Mystical  awareness  was  certainly  present  in the Prophet  Mohammad’s attitude  to Allah, and “mystical” is an entirely appropriate adjective to describe his many experiences of supernatural Presence making contact through him with a message  to  mankind. The  Koran,  the  book  of Allah’s revelations to Mohammad, contains numerous  passages   of   a   mystical   character which  the Sufis seized upon  eagerly to buttress their  own  claims  to  personal   trafficking   with God.

introduction    ix

And when My servants  question  thee concerning Me—I am near to answer the call of the caller, when he calls
to Me; so let them respond  to Me, and let them believe in Me: haply so
they will go aright. Sura 2: I82

We indeed created  man; and We know what  his soul whispers  within  him,
and We are nearer  to him than  the jugular vein.
Sura 50: 5I

All that  dwells upon  the earth  is perishing, yet still
abides the Face of thy Lord, majestic, splendid.
Sura 55: 26

One  pregnant context  was taken  to refer to a pre-eternal covenant  between  God and man, the re-enactment of which  became  the earnest  aspi- ration  of the enthusiastic Sufi.

And when thy Lord took  from the Children of Adam,

x     introduction

from their loins, their seed, and made them testify
touching  themselves, “Am I not your Lord?” They said, “Yes, we testify.”
Sura 7: 171

The  ascetic  outlook and  practice,  an  indispens- able  preparation to  mystical  communion, char- acterized the life not only of Mohammad himself but of many of his earliest followers.  Even when the rapid spread of Islam and the astonishing military conquests  of neighbouring ancient king- doms brought undreamed-of riches to the public exchequer, not  a few of the  leading  men  in the new commonwealth withstood all temptation to abandon the austere  life of the desert,  and  their example  was  admired   and  emulated   by  multi- tudes  of  humbler   rank.   Nevertheless   with  the passage of time, and as Islam became increasing- ly secularized  consequent upon  further  victories and  rapidly  augmenting complications of state- craft, the original ascetic impulse tended to be overwhelmed in the flood of worldly  preoccupa- tion.
Towards  the  end  of  the  eighth  century  a.d. pious  Muslims  who  remained  faithful,  through all trials  and  temptations, to  the  high  ideals  of

introduction    xi

the fathers began to form themselves into little groups  for  mutual  encouragement and  the  pur- suit of common  aims; these men and women (for there were women amongst  them of a like mind), opting  out of the race for worldly  advancement, took to wearing wool to proclaim their other- worldliness  and were therefore  nicknamed Sufis. These circles of devotees, and many isolated anchorites besides,  appeared  simultaneously in various parts  of the  Muslim  empire;  anecdotes from  their  lives and  conversations, such  as are told in the following pages, constitute  the hagiography of  Islam.  A strong  tradition  con- nects  the  growth   of  this  movement   with   the Prophet through his  cousin  and  son-in-law  Ali ibn  Abi Taleb,  the  fourth  caliph  whose  abdica- tion  led to  the  greatest  schism  in the  history  of the   faith,   the   separation  between   Sunni   and Shiite. According to this version, the Prophet invested Ali with a cloak or kherqa  on initiating him into the esoteric mysteries, imparting to him therewith the heavenly wisdom which transcends all formal  learning.  In his turn  Ali invested  his own  initiates,  and  through them  the  selselas or chains  of affiliation  passed  on  the  inner  lore  of mystical  truth  to  succeeding  generations. Another   prominent figure  in  some  versions  of

xii     introduction

early Sufism is the Persian convert  Salman,  who is said  to  have  taken  part  in the  great  siege of Medina.  If any credence  can be attached to this legend,   Salman   would   certainly   be  the   first Persian Muslim to become a Sufi; he was the forerunner of a great multitude of Persian Sufis.

Sufism and Persia
The   cities  of  Basra,   Kufa,   Damascus, Cairo, Baghdad  feature,  along with the desert wastes of Arabia,   Sinai,   and   Mesopotamia,  as  centres where  the  Sufi movement  took  root  and  flour- ished. At the same time a “school” of mysticism of extraordinary vitality and influence came into being  in  the  distant  province  of  Khorasan, the bridgehead between the Middle East and the Far East. The earliest semi-historical figure in this gallery of Persian  saints  is Ebrahim  ibn Adham, “Prince of Balkh, whose conversion  to the mysti- cal life has been not  inaptly  compared with  the legend of Gautama Buddha.  It may be noted  in this connection that  in pre-Muslim times  Balkh was  the  centre  of a large  Buddhist  community, and the ruins of the massive Buddhist  monastery called Naubahar were still pointed  out centuries after   the  coming  of  Islam.  Ebrahim   travelled from Balkh to Syria in quest of “honest toil” and

introduction    xiii

is said to have died fighting at sea against Byzantium  in about  780; he had made ‘‘ person- al contact  with many Sufis of Syria and Iraq.
However  spectacular  the example  of Ebrahim ibn Adham may have been, his influence upon the history of Sufism was soon overshadowed by the emergence in Khorasan of a mystical genius of the first order,  Abu Yazid of Bestam, who died about
875. His recorded  acts and sayings (“Glory  be to Me!”  he ejaculated  memorably  in the fervour  of mystical ecstasy) reveal him as a man of profound spirituality,  who through  long austerity  and med- itation reached a state of compelling awareness of the merging  of his human  individuality  into  the Individuality  of God; a long and graphic descrip- tion of his “flight  of the alone  to the Alone”,  a psychical journey  performed  in emulation  of the Ascension  of Mohammad, will be found  in due place in this book.  To him is attributed the intro- duction  of “intoxication” into Sufi doctrine,  and in this respect  he is contrasted with the “sober” school of Baghdad, headed by the great al-Jonaid (d. 9IO). The latter,  who studied and commented on Abu Yazid’s ecstatic  sayings,  reached  indeed the same conclusions  regarding  the supreme mys- tical experience, the passing away of the temporal ego into  the  Eternal  Ego;  but  he expressed  the

xiv     introduction

matter  much more cautiously,  supporting his argument   by  adroit   “Neo-Platonic”  interpreta- tion  of  certain  key  quotations from  the  Koran and the sayings of the Prophet.
The early years of the tenth  century  witnessed the climax of a sharp orthodox Muslim reaction against  the  individualistic  transcendentalism  of the Sufis (some of whom deliberately  flouted the proprieties   to  prove  their  contempt for  human judgments),   when   the   Persian-born  al-Hallaj, who  declared  himself to be the Truth,  was exe- cuted   for   blasphemy    in   Baghdad    in   922. Thereafter the majority of vocal Sufis laboured  to effect a reconciliation with traditionalism and accepted theology;  and Persians played a notable part in this irenic endeavour. Textbooks aiming to prove   the  essential   conformity   of  Sufi  claims within  the  framework of strict  Islamic  doctrine were compiled  by al-Sarraj  of Tus (d. 988),  Abu Bakr of Kalabadh  (d. c. 995),  and,  most famous of all, al-Qoshairi of Nishapur (d. 1072). To Nishapur (whose most famous  son to the world at large was of course Omar  Khayyam) belonged also al-Solami (d. 1021), author  of the oldest sur- viving collection of Sufi biographies;  whilst Esfahan  produced  Abu No’aim  (d. 1038)  whose encyclopaedic  Ornament of the Saints is our chief sourcebook on Muslim hagiology.

introduction    xv

These men all wrote in Arabic, the learned and prestige language of Islam. Meanwhile  the politi- cal renaissance  of Persia under the virtually inde- pendent  tenth-century dynasties  of Saffarids and Samanids led to a revival of the Persian language, transformed  as  dramatically  out   of  the   old Pahlavi as English out of Anglo-Saxon,  both phe- nomena  the results  of foreign conquest;  and the eleventh century produced  the first Sufi composi- tions in that tongue. On the formal side, we have in  the  Kashf  al-mahjub  of  Hojwiri   the  earliest Persian textbook of Sufi doctrine,  in its own way fully the equal of al-Qoshairi’s celebrated  Resala. Then  al-Ansari   of  Herat,   an  eminent   Hanbali lawyer  (d.  1088)  who  wrote  notable  works  in Arabic including  the classic Stages of the Mystic Travellers, chose Persian, and a remarkably beau- tiful Persian at that,  as the medium of his mysti- cal  meditations and  prayers  (Monajat);  he  also produced  in Herati  Persian  an enhanced  edition of al-Solami’s Classes of the Sufis. The following extract   from  the  Monajat,   made  into  rhyming and rhythmical  prose in imitation  of the original, shows how closely Ansari adhered to the thought and expression  of the earlier Sufis.

O my friend, behold  yon cemetery, and see how many tombs  and graves there be;

xvi     introduction

how many hundred thousand delicate ones there sleep
in slumber deep.

Much  toiled they every one and strove, and feverishly burned  with barren  hope
and selfish love,
and shining garments  jewel-sprinkled wove.

Jars of gold and silver fashioned  they, and from the people profit  bore away, much trickery  revealing,  and great moneys
stealing;
but, at the end, with a full regretful  sigh they laid them down  to die.

Their treasuries  they filled, and in their hearts  well-tilled planted  the seed
of lustful greed;
but, at the last,
from all these things they passed.

So burdened, suddenly
at the door  of death  they sank, and there the cup of destiny they drank.

introduction    xvii

O my friend, ponder  well thy dissolution, and get thee betimes thine absolution;
or, know  it full well,
thou  shalt in torment dwell.

In this same period  Abu Sa’id ibn Abi ‘l-Khair of Maihana (Khorasan), a man  of great  saintli- ness who met and corresponded with the master- philosopher  Avicenna,  is  credited   with  having used the newly invented and popular roba’i (qua- train)   as  his  medium   for  expressing   mystical ideas and  experiences.  His  contemporary  Baba Taher,   a  wandering  dervish,   composed   dialect verses in  a  somewhat similar  quatrain form  to court  the Heavenly  Beloved, pictured  as coy and cruelly reluctant as any rustic maiden.

Like hyacinths  on roses
Thy tangled  locks are strung; Shake out those gleaming tresses, And lo, a lover young
On every hair is hung.

The breeze that  fans thy tresses
Surpasseth  fragrant posies. In sleep I press thine image, And as mine eye uncloses
I breathe  the scent of roses.

xviii     introduction

Give me thy two soft tresses, Therewith my lute I’ll string; Since thou  wilt never love me, Why dost thou  nightly bring
Soft dreams,  my heart  to wring?

Two eyes with surmeh  languid, Two curls that  idly stray,
A body slim, seductive— And dost thou  truly say,
“Why  art thou  troubled, pray?”

Thou  hast me, soul and body, My darling,  sweet and pure;
I cannot  tell what  ails me, But this I know  for sure, Thou  only art my cure.

The rise of Persian Sufi Literature
The  central  theme  of  this  ecstatic  literature  of early Persia Sufism was the yearning  of the lover (the  mystic)  for  the  Beloved  (God),  and  for  a renewal of that intimate union which existed between the  two  before  the  dawn  of  creation. The  language  and  imagery  of  old  Arab  erotic poetry became transformed into a rich and high- ly  symbolical   vocabulary  mystical   aspiration.

introduction    xix

This theme was taken up again by Ahmad al- Ghazali   of  Tus,  brother  of  the  more   famous Hojjat   al-Islam   whose   learned   and   eloquent Arabic writings completed the reconciliation between Sufism and  orthodoxy. The Savaneh  of Ahmad  al-Ghazali  (d.  1123),  a  series  of  short and very subtle  meditations in prose  and  verse upon  the trinity  of Beloved, Love, and Lover, set a fashion  which  was followed  by, amongst  oth- ers,   Ain  al-Qozat  of  Hamadan  (executed   in
1131),  the  poet  Eraqi  (d.  1289),  and  the  great
Jami (d. 1492).
By the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  the ghazal (lyric) had also, like the roba’i, been taken over for Sufi use by the mystical  lovers of God, who combined  with  its erotic  symbolism  a bac- chanalian  imagery   deriving   from   the  profane songs of Abu Nowas  and his school. The qasida (formal  ode),  the  ancient  creation  of the  pagan bards  of Arabia  and originally confined  to pane- gyric and satire,  had been converted  to religious purposes  by Naser-e Khosrau  the Esma’ili propa- gandist  (d.  1060).  The  way  was  thus  prepared for the emergence of the first major mystical poet of Persia, Sana’i, who devoted a long life (ending about   1140)   and  great  talent   to  preaching   in verse the Sufi discipline and doctrine.

xx     introduction

The nightingale  hath  no repose
For joy that  ruby blooms  the rose; Long time it is that  Philomel
Hath  loved like me the rosy dell.

‘Tis sure no wonder  if I sing
Both night and day my fair sweeting: Let me be slave to that  bird’s tongue Who late the rose’s praise hath  sung!

O saki, when the days commence
Of ruby roses, abstinence
By none is charged;  then pour  me wine
Like yonder  rose incarnadine.

Not  content   with  using  qasida,  ghazal,  and roba’i  in  masterly   fashion,   Sana’i  broke   new ground in taking over the mathnavi (the rhyming couplet  perfected  and  immortalized by Ferdausi in his Epic of Kings) as the medium par excellence for mystical instruction, an example presently fol- lowed   by  Nezami   (once   in  his  Treasury   of Secrets). Attar,  Rumi, and thereafter  by a host of notable emulators. His Hadiqat al-haqiqa (“Garden of Truth”), divided into ten graduated chapters  in  which  the  doctrine  is  kindly  inter- spersed with illustrative  anecdotes,  is in effect an

introduction    xxi

adaptation in verse of the  prose  treatises  of al- Qoshairi  and Hojwiri.  As a poet  Sana’i perhaps did not reach the topmost  heights; as a pioneer of what was to prove the mainspring  of poetic inspi- ration   in  Persia  (and  without  hi  example,   we might  never  have  enjoyed  the  masterpieces   of Rumi,  Sa’di, Hafez,  Jami, and how many more) he fully merit the fame which he has secured.
To  historical  or  semi-historical   anecdote, the raw  material  of Sufi hagiography, now  came to be  added   the  apologue,   the  invented   parable. Credit for the perfecting  of this genre in Persian Sufi  literature  belongs   to  Sohrawardi Maqtul (executed at Aleppo in 1191), a rigorous  philoso- pher  turned   mystic  whose  beautiful   myths  (in which animal  symbolism  is freely used, harking- back  to  the  Fables of  Bidpai  mediated  through the  Kalila va-Demna which  the  Persian  Ibn  al- Moqaffa’  in about  75 put  into  Arabic  from  the Pahlavi)   mount   back   via  Avicenna   to   Plato. Thus, the  Neo-Platonist doctrine  of the  descent of the soul into the body, which had been accept- ed by the Sufis as a prefiguration of the Koranic concept  of  a  Primordial   Covenant  and  which found  eloquent  expression  in Avicenna’s famous Poem  of  the  Soul,  is built  by Sohravardi into  a very striking  an graphic  myth.

xxii     introduction

A   certain   king   possessed   a   garden   which through all the four seasons never lacked for fra- grant  herbs,  verdant   grasses  and  joyous  pleas- ances; great  waters  therein flowed,  and  all man- ner of birds  sitting  in the branches  poured  forth songs  of every  kind.  Indeed,  every  melody  that could enter the mind and every beauty that imag- ination  might conceive, all was to be found in that garden.   Moreover    a   company  of   peacocks, exceedingly  graceful,  elegant  and  fair,  had  there made their abode  and dwelling-place.
One  day the king laid hold  of one of the pea- cocks and gave orders  that  he should be sewn up in a leather jacket, in such wise that naught  of the colours of his wings remained  visible, and howev- er much he tried he could not look upon  his own beauty. He also commanded that  over his head a basket should be placed having only one aperture, through which  a  few  grains  of  millet  might  be dropped, sufficient to keep him alive.
Some time passed, and the peacock forgot him- self, the garden-kingdom and the other peacocks. Whenever  he  looked  at  himself  he  saw  nothing  but  a filthy, ugly sack of leather  and a very dark and  disagreeable  dwelling-place. To  that  he rec- onciled himself, and  it became  fixed in his mind that no land could exist larger than  the basket  in

introduction    xxiii

which  he was. He firmly believed that  if anyone should pretend  that there was a pleasurable life or an  abode  of  perfection  beyond  it,  it  would  be rank heresy and utter nonsense  and stupidity.  For all that, whenever  a breeze blew and the scent of the  flowers  and  trees,  the  roses  and  violets  and jasmine  and  fragrant herbs  was  wafted  to  him through the hole, he experienced  a strange delight and was curiously moved, so that the joy of flight filled his heart.  He felt a mighty yearning within him, but knew not the source of that yearning, for he had  no idea that  he was anything  but  a piece of leather, having forgotten everything beyond his basket-world and fare of millet. Again, if ever he heard  the  modulations of  the  peacocks  and  the songs  of  the  other  birds  he  was  likewise  trans- ported  with yearning and longing; yet he was not wakened  out  of  his  trance  by  the  voices  of  the birds and the breath  of the zephyr.

The rest of this myth, with its subtle use of quotations from  ancient  Arabic  poetry  and  the Koran, may be read in my Classical Persian Literature.  It recalls a greater animal fable with a spiritual  meaning,  the sublime Manteq  al-tair of Attar which Edward  FitzGerald epitomized  in his Bird-Parliament. Meanwhile, within  the field of

xxiv     introduction

hagiography (with  which  this  present  book   is primarily  concerned),  full-length  biographies of individual  Sufi saints  had  begun  to appear.  The life and sayings of Abu Yazid of Bestam provid- ed al-Sahlagi with very rich materials.  Ibn Khafif of Shiraz found a Boswell in his pupil al-Dailami. The poet-mystic  Abu Sa’id ibn Abi ‘l-Khair was commemorated by two  biographers of his own descendants. The  fashion  was  thus  established for  countless   disciples  to  collect  the  acts  and words  of their  Sufi masters;  a very famous  later instance  is  the  Fihe  ma  fihe  in  which  one  of Rumi’s  circle  published   the  Discourses  of  that great man. Mention may be made in this context of  the  Ma’aref  (“Gnoses”) of  Rumi’s  father,  a lengthy  autobiography recording  in a wealth  of detail the spiritual  experiences of the author.
Such in brief is the background against  which we may assess the works and achievements  of the author of the book  here translated.

Attar and his “Memorial  of the Saints” In  addition to  the  poetical  writings,  we possess from   Attar’s   pen   one   work   in  prose,   this Memorial of the Saints (the Tadhkerat al-auliya’) whose  genuineness,  certainly  over  a  very  sub- stantial   part   (I  refer  to  the  edition   by  R.  A.

introduction    xxv

Nicholson from  which  all  the  following  refer- ences are taken),  is beyond  reasonable  doubt. It seems  probable that  this  book  was  completed and  made  public  somewhat late  in  Attar’s  life, but  that  large sections  existed  in draft  when  he was  writing  his poems;  for  many  apologues  in these were clearly based  on materials  assembled in the Memorial. In the preface to the Memorial Attar  lists his reasons  for writing  the book,  but not  the   sources   used   by  him.   His   declared motives,   as  summarized   by  R.  A.  Nicholson, were as follows:

1)  He  was  begged  to  do  so  by  his  religious brethren.
2) He hoped  that  some of those  who  read the work  would  bless the  author and  thus,  possibly, secure his welfare beyond  the grave.
3) He believes that  the words  of the Saints are profitable even  to  those  who  cannot  put  them into practice,  inasmuch  as they strengthen aspira- tion and destroy self-conceit.
4) Jonaid  said,  “Their  sayings  are  one  of  the armies of Almighty God whereby He confirms and reinforces the disciple, if his heart be dejected.”
5) According  to the Prophet,  “Mercy descends at the mention  of the pious”: peradventure, if one

xxvi     introduction

spreads  a table on which Mercy falls like rain, he will not be turned  away portionless.
6) Attar  trusts  that  the blessed influence of the Saints may be vouchsafed  to  him  and  bring  him into happiness  before he dies.
7) He  busied  himself with  their  sayings  in  the hope  that   he  might  make  himself  to  resemble them.
8)  The  Koran   and  the  Traditions  cannot  be understood without knowledge  of Arabic, where- fore  most  people  are  unable  to  profit  by  them; and the Sayings of the Saints, which form a com- mentary  on  the  Koran  and  the  Traditions, were likewise  uttered, for  the  most  part,   in  Arabic. Consequently the author has translated them into Persian, in order that  they may become accessible to all.
9) Since an idle word  often excites keen resent- ment,  the  word  of Truth  is capable  of having  a thousandfold effect even  though you  are  uncon- scious  thereof.  Similarly,  Abd  al-Rahman Eskafi said that the reading  of the Koran  was effectual, although the reader  might not understand it, just as   a   potion    of   which   the   ingredients    are unknown.
10) Spiritual  words  alone appeal  to the author. Hence he composed  this “daily  task” for his con-

introduction    xxvii

temporaries, hoping to find some persons to share the meal which he has provided.
11) The Imam Yusof Hamadhani advised some people, who asked him what they should do when the  Saints  had  passed  away  from  the  earth,  to read eight pages of their Sayings every day. Attar felt that it was incumbent upon him to supply this desideratum.
12)  From  his childhood he had  a  predilection for  the  Sufis and  took  delight  in  their  sayings. Now,   when   such   words   are   spoken   only   by impostors    and   when   true   spiritualists    have become  as  rare  as the  philosopher’s  stone,  he is resolved  to  popularize literature of this  kind so far as lies in his power’
13) In the present age the best men are bad, and holy  men  have  been  forgotten. The  Memorial  is designed to remedy this state of things.
14)  The  Sayings of the  Saints  dispose  men  to renounce  the  world,  meditate  on  the future  life, love God,  and  set about  preparing for  their  last journey. “One  may say that there does not exist in all  creation   a  better   book   than   this,  for  their words   are  a  commentary  on   the   Koran   and Traditions, which  are the best  of all words.  Any one who reads it properly  will perceive what pas- sion must have been in the souls of those men to

xxviii    introduction

bring  forth  such  deeds  and  words  as  they  have done and said.”
I5) A further  motive was the hope of obtaining their   intercession   hereafter   and   of  being   par- doned,  like the dog of the Seven Sleepers which, though  it be all skin  and  bone,  will nevertheless be admitted to Paradise.

In his preface Attar mentions three books which he recommends  for those ambitious  to attain a full understanding of the pronouncement of the Sufis. These he entitles: Ketab Sharh al-qalb (“The Exposition  of the  Heart”), Ketab  Kashf  al-asrar (“The Revelation of the Secrets”), and Ketab Ma’refat al-nafs   wa’l-Rabb  (“The  Knowledge  of the Self and of the Lord”).  No clue is given here to the authorship of these works,  but Attar refers in one other context (II, 99) to the Sharh al-qalb as a book of his own composition; see also Attar’s introduction to his own  Mokhtar-nama. It may therefore be deduced that Attar was the author  of the other  two titles. No copy of any of the three has so far been recovered.

Sources of Attar’s “Memorial”
Since Attar  did not trouble  to specify the precise sources  upon  which  he  drew  in  compiling  the

introduction    xxix

Memorial, these are to be identified  on the basis of internal evidence. It cannot be claimed that anything like a complete analysis has been attempted, for such a task (wanting  direct clues) is obviously  very intricate  and laborious, requir- ing a prolonged research.  So far, however,  it has been  established  as certain  that  Attar  consulted the authors and texts here listed.
1) Hekayat  al-mashayekh  of Abu Mohammad Ja’fer  ibn  Mohammad  al-Kholdi  (d.  348/959). Attar quotes from al-Kholdi once directly (II, 51); in the supplementary section of the Memorial  his biography  is briefly  given (II, 284-85),  but  that part  of the text  is of very doubtful  authenticity. For further  in formation on al-Kholdi,  described by Hojwiri  (Kashf al-mahjub, trans. R. A. Nicholson, p. 156) as “the well-known  biograph- er of the Saints”, see C. Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur, Suppl. I, p. 358.
2) Ketab al-Loma’ of Abu Nasr ‘Abd Allah ibn
‘Ali al-Sarraj (d. 378/988). Mentioned specifical- ly in  the  supplement (II,  I82-83)  where  a  bio- graphical notice is given; though  this reference is of  questionable  value,  the  section  in  which  it occurs  being very likely a later  addition, Attar’s use of this fundamental text can be deduced from many contexts.

xxx     introduction

3) Tabaqat  al-Sufiva  of Abu ‘Abd al-Rahman
Mohammad     ibn     al-Hosain     al-Solami     (d.
412/1021). This celebrated author, whose biogra- phies of the Sufis Attar undoubtedly used, is cited thrice in the supplement (II, 263, 308, 326).
4) Helyat al-auliya of Abu No’aim Ahmad  ibn
‘Abd  Allah  al-E’fahani   (d.  430/1038).  Though Abu No’aim  is not specifically named,  it is clear that   Attar   knew  and  used  this  encyclopaedic work.
5) al Resala  of Abu  ‘l-Qasem  al-Qoshairi (d.
465/1072). Cited  by name  in the  main  text  (II,
135) and the supplement (II, 200, 207, 309, 332,
333),  it is abundantly evident  that  Attar  leaned very heavily  on  this  authoritative exposition  of Sufi doctrine.
6 ) Kashf al-mahjub of Abu’l-Hasan  al-Hojwiri
(d. c. 467/1075. Named once in the main text (II,
68),  Hojwiri  is verbally  cited without acknowl- edgment  in a number  of passages.  This was the easier to contrive,  since Hojwiri  himself wrote in Persian
When   dealing  with  certain   individual   Sufis, Attar appears  to have had access to some of their own writings,  either direct or through quotation by others,  as well as to  special  monographs on their lives and acts. Two obvious instances are al-

introduction    xxxi

Sahlaji’s biography of Abu Yazid al-Bestami, and al-Dailami’s biography of Ibn Khafif. Further  ref- erence  to  these  two  books  will be found  in my notes on the relevant  texts.
Though   in  his  prefatory remarks   Attar   lays much  weight  upon  the  “words” of the  Sufis as his  overriding  preoccupation, in  fact  he  put  at least equal stress on their “acts” or the legends of their preternatural powers.  In setting out his materials  he took  as his model  the  Tabaqat  al- Sufiya of al-Solami,  in which the Sufis are treat- ed more  or  less in chronological order;  he may well also have known  al-Ansari’s Persian version of this book,  which Jami later used as the foun- dation  of his Nafahat  al-ons. It is to be noticed, however,  that Attar abandoned al-Solami’s arrangement of  the  Sufis by  “classes”;   he  also found   the  Tabaqat   inadequate  on  the  human side. For valuable as that work undoubtedly is as an  anthology of  Sufi dicta,  to  Attar,  who  was interested at least as much in the personalities of the Sufis as in what  they said and wrote,  it need- ed to be supplemented with biographical details. So to eke out al-Solami’s somewhat austere  fare, he combined  with  the  Tabaqat  the  human  and superhuman materials  contained in the Hekayat of al-Kholdi,  the Resala of al-Qoshairi, and  the

xxxii     introduction

Kashf al-mahjub  of Hojwiri. The following table is  self-explanatory in  establishing  the  relation- ship between  the Memorial  and its forerunners.

COMPARATIVE  TABLE OF SUFI BIOGRAPHIES

Attar    Solami    Qoshairi    Hojwiri
1. Ja’far al-Sadeq    —    —    9
2. Owais al-Qarani    —    —    IO
3. al-Hasan al-BaSri    —    —    12
4. Malek ibn Dinar    —    —    15
5. Mohammad ibn Wase’    —    —    18
6. Habib  al-’Ajami    —    —    14
7. Abu Hazem al-Makki    —    —    19
8. ‘Otba al-Gholam    —    —    —
9. Rabe’a al-’Adawiya    —    —    —
10.  al-Fozail ibn ‘Iyaz    1    3    22
11.  Ebrahim  ibn Adham    3    1    24
12.  Beshr al-Hafi    4    6    25
13.  Dho ‘l-Nun al-Mesri    2    2    23
14.  Abu Yazid al-Bestami    8    10    26
15.  ‘Abd Allah ibn al-Mobarak    —    —    21
16.  Sofyan al-Thauri    —    —    —
17.  Shaqiq al-Balkhi    7    9    30
18.  Abu Hanifa    —    —    20
19.  al-Shafe’i    —    —    34
20.  Ahmad ibn Hanbal    —    —    35


introduction

Attar   

Solami   

Qoshairi    xxxiii

Hojwiri
21.  Dawud  al-Ta’i    —    8    28
22.  al-Mohasebi    6    7    27
23.  Abu Solaiman al-Dara’i    9    12    31
24.  Mohammad ibn Sammak    —    —    —
25.  Aslam al-Tusi    —    —    —
26.  Ahmad ibn Harb    —    —    —
27.  Hatem  al-Asamm    11    13    33
28.  al-Tostari    30    11    54
29.  Ma’ruf al-Karkhi    10    4    32
30.  Sari al-Saqati    5    5    29
31.  Fath al-Mauseli    —    —    —
32.  Ahmad ibn Abi ‘l-Hawari    18    16    36
33.  Ahmad ibn Khazruya    13    15    37
34.  Abu Torab al-Nakhshabi    20    18    38
35.  Yahya ibn Mo’adh al-Razi    14    14    39
36.  Shah ibn Shoja’ al-Kermani    27    33    52
37.  Yusof ibn al-Hosain al-Razi    26    34    50
38.  Abu Hafs al-Haddad    15    17    40
39.  Hamdun al-Qassar    16    22    41
40.  Mansur ibn ‘Ammar    17    21    42
41.  al-Antaki    18    20    43
42.  ‘Abd Allah ibn Khobaiq    19    19    44
43.  al-Jonaid    21    23    45
44.  ‘Amr ibn ‘Othman al-Makki    29    30    53
45.  Abu Sa’id al-Kharraz    34    37    58
46.  Abu ‘I-Hosain al-Nuri    22    25    46

xxxiv     introduction

Attar    Solami    Qoshairi    Hojwiri
47.  Abu ‘Othman al-Hiri    23    24    47
48.  Ibn al-Jalla’    24    26    48
49.  Rowaim    25    27    49
50.  Ibn ‘Ata’    42    42    —
51.  Ebrahim  al-Raqqi    —    —    —
52.  Yusof ibn Asbat    —    —    —
53.  al-Nahrajuri    48    60    —
54.  Somnun    28    31    51
55.  al-Morta’esh    42    54    —
56.  Mohammad ibn al-Fazl    31    28    55
57.  al-Bushanji    58    74    —
58.  al-Termedhi    32    35    56
59.  Abu ‘l-Khair al-Aqta’    66    58    —
60.  ‘Abd Allah al-Tarughbadi    —    —    —
61.  Abu Bakr al-Warraq    33    36    57
62.  ‘Abd Allah ibn Monazel    —    56    —
63.  ‘Ali ibn Sahl al-Esfahani    35    40    59
64.  Khair al-Nassaj    57    51    60
65.  Abu Hamza al-Khorasani    58    52    61
66.  Ahmad ibn Masruq    36    39    62
67.  ‘Abd Allah al-Maghrebi    37    38    63
68.  Abu ‘Ali al-Juzajani    38    —    64
69.  Abu Bakr al-Kattani    67    59    —
70.  Ibn Khafif    —    75    75
71.  Abu Mohammad al-Jorairi    41    41    65
72.  al-Hallaj    53    —    67


introduction            xxxv
Attar
73.  Ebrahim al-Khauwas    Solami
57    Qoshairi
43    Hojwiri
68
74.  Memshad al-Dinawari    55    50    —
75.   al-Shebli    61    53    71

In making  the present  selection,  attention has been  concentrated on  the  biographical sections of each entry, leaving aside the much-prized dicta perhaps  for  future  treatment. The  original  edi- tion  of the Memorial  terminated with  the entry on al-Hallaj, whom Attar appears to have regarded—and with  historical  as well as artistic justification—as     forming     the     climax     and supreme  crisis of the early Sufi movement.  (The inclusion of Ibn Khafif is eccentric.) Some manu- scripts contain an extensive supplement which Nicholson accepted  as authentic and included  in his text;  it seems possible  that  part  of this sup- plement,  though  by  no  means  all  I think,  was added  by the  original  author. In my selection  I have drawn  on the additional material  to include al-Shebli, whose death  marks  the end of the for- mative  period  of Sufism. I have  furnished  brief biographies and  bibliographies  for  each  entry, and notes which are intended  rather  as specimens than  as exhaustive  commentaries.




Hasan of Basra

Al-Hasan  ibn Abi ‘l Hasan  al-Basri was born  at Medina in 21 (642), the son of a slave captured in Maisan  who  afterwards  became  a  client  of the Prophet Mohammad’s secretary Zaid ibn Thabet. Brought  up in Basra, he met many Companions of  the  Prophet   including,  it  is  said,  seventy  of those who fought  at the Battle of Badr. He grew up to become one of the most prominent figures of his generation, being  famous  for his uncom- promising  piety and outspoken condemnation of worldliness in high places. Whilst the Mo’tazelite theologians  claim him as the founder of their movement  (and ‘Amr ibn ‘Obaid  and Wasel ibn
‘Ata’ are counted amongst his pupils), in Sufi hagiography he is revered  as one of the greatest saints of  early  Islam.  He  died  at  Basra  in 110 (728).  Many  of his speeches—he  was a brilliant orator—and sayings are quoted  by Arab authors and not a few of his letters have been preserved.

The conversion of Hasan of Basra
The beginning  of Hasan  of Basra’s conversion was as follows.  He  was  a  jewel  merchant  and  was  called Hasan  of the Pearls.  He traded  with  Byzantium,  and had to do with the generals and ministers of Caesar. On

2     hasan of basra

one  occasion,  going  to  Byzantium  he  called  on  the prime minister and conversed with him a while.
“We will go to a  certain  place,”  the  minister  told him, “if you are agreeable.”
“It is for you to say,” Hasan  replied. “I agree.”
So the minister  commanded a horse  to be  brought for Hasan.  He mounted  with the minister, and they set out.  When they reached  the desert Hasan  perceived a tent of Byzantine brocade,  fastened  with ropes of silk and golden  pegs, set firm in the ground.  He stood  to one  side. Then a mighty army, all accoutred  in the panoply  of war, came out; they circled the tent, said a few words, and departed. Philosophers  and scholars to the number  of nigh four hundred arrived on the scene; they circled the tent,  said a few words,  and departed. After  that  three  hundred  illumined  elders  with  white beards  approached  the  tent,   circled  it,  said  a  few words,  and departed. Thereafter more  than  two  hun- dred moon-fair  maidens,  each bearing  a plate of gold and silver and precious  stones, circled the tent,  said a few words,  and departed.
Hasan  relates that,  astonished  and filled with won- der, he asked himself what this might be.
“When  we alighted,” he went on, “I asked the min- ister. He said that  the Caesar  had a son of unsurpass-  able beauty,  perfect in all the branches of learning and

hasan of basra     3

unrivalled  in the arena  of manly  prowess.  His  father loved him with all his heart.”
Suddenly he fell ill—so Hasan related on the author- ity of  the  minister.  All the  skilled  physicians  proved powerless to cure him. Finally he died, and was buried in that  tent. Once every year people come out to visit him. First an immense army circles the tent,  and they say: “O  prince,  if this circumstance  that  has befallen thee had come about  in war,  we would  have all sacri- ficed our lives for thee, to ransom  thee back.  But the circumstance  that  has  befallen  thee  is at the hand  of one against  whom we cannot  fight, whom we cannot  challenge.”  This they say, and then return.
The  philosophers and  the  scholars  come  forward, and say: “This circumstance  has been brought  about by one against whom we cannot  do anything  by means of learning and philosophy, science and sophistry.  For all the  philosophers  of  the  world  are  powerless  before him, and all the learned are ignorant beside his knowl- edge. Otherwise  we would have contrived  devices and spoken  words  which  all  in  creation  could  not  have withstood.” This they say, and then return.
Next  the  venerable  elders  advance,   and  say:  “O prince, if this circumstance  that has befallen thee could have  been  set right  by the  intercession  of elders,  we would  all have interceded  with humble  petitions,  and

4     hasan of basra

would not have abandoned thee there. But this circum- stance  has  been  brought   upon  thee  by  one  against whom no mortal  man’s intercession profits anything.” This they say, and depart.
Now the moon-fair  maidens with their plates of gold and precious  stones  advance,  circle the  tent,  and say: “Son  of Caesar,  if this  circumstance that  has befallen thee could have been set right by wealth and beauty, we would have sacrificed ourselves and given great mon- eys, and would not have abandoned thee. But this cir- cumstance   has  been  brought   upon  thee  by  one  on whom  wealth  and  beauty  have  no effect.”  This  they say, and return.
Then  Caesar  himself  with  his chief minister  enters the tent,  and says: “O eye and lamp  of  thy  father,  O fruit of the heart of thy father, O dearest beloved of thy father,  what  is in thy  father’s  hand  to perform?  Thy father brought  a mighty army, he brought  philosophers and scholars, intercessors  and advisers, beautiful maid- ens, wealth  and  all manner  of luxuries;  and  he came himself. If all this could have been of avail, thy father would have done all that lay in his power.  But this cir- cumstance   has  been  brought   about   by  one  before whom thy father, with all this apparatus, this army and retinue,  this luxury and wealth and treasure,  is power- less. Peace be upon  you, till next year!”  This he says, and returns.

hasan of basra     5

These words  of the minister  so affected Hasan that he was beside himself. At once he made arrangements to return.  Coming  to Basra, he took an oath never to laugh  again  in  this  world,  till  his  ultimate   destiny became clear to him. He flung himself into all manner  of  devotions and  austerities,  such that  no man  in  his time could exceed that discipline.

Hasan of Basra and Abu Amr
It is related that Abu Amr, the leading authority on the reading of the Koran,  was teaching the Koran one day when  suddenly  a  handsome   boy  arrived  to  join  his class.  Abu  Amr  gazed  at  the  child  improperly,  and immediately  he forgot the whole Koran,  from the p of “Praise”  to the n of “jinn and men”.  A fire possessed him, and he lost all self-control.  In this state he called on  Hasan  of Basra and described  to him his  predica- ment.
“Master,” he wept bitterly,  “such  is the situation. I
have forgotten  the whole Koran.”
Hasan was most distressed to hear of his situation. “Now  is the season of the pilgrimage,” he said. “Go
and perform the pilgrimage. When you have done that, repair  to the mosque  of Khaif.  There  you  will see an old man  seated  in the  prayer-niche.  Do not  spoil  his time,  but  let him be until  he is  disengaged.  Then  ask him to say a prayer for you.”

6     hasan of basra

Abu Amr acted accordingly.  Seated in a corner of the mosque,  he observed  a venerable elder and about  him a circle of people seated. Some time passed; then a man entered, clad in spotless white robes. The people made way before him, greeted him, and conversed  together. When  the  hour  of  prayer  arrived,  the  man  departed and  the  people departed  with  him,  so that  the  elder remained  alone.
Abu Amr then approached and saluted him. “In Allah’s name, help me,” he cried.
And he described  his predicament. The elder, much concerned, raised his eyes to heaven.
“He   had  not   yet  lowered   his  head,”   Abu   Amr recounted, “when  the Koran  came back  to  me. I fell down before him for joy.”
“Who recommended me to you?” the elder asked. “Hasan of Basra,” Abu Amr replied.
“Anyone who has an imam like Hasan,” the old man commented,  “what   need  has  he  of  another?   Well, Hasan has exposed me. Now I will expose him. He rent my veil, and I will rend his as well. That man,” he went on, “in the white robes who entered after the afternoon prayer and left before the rest, and the others did him reverence—that man  was Hasan.  Every day he  prays the  afternoon prayer  in Basra  and  then  comes  here, converses with me, and returns to Basra for the evening

hasan of basra     7

prayer.  Anyone  who  has  an  imam  like  Hasan,  why should he ask me for a prayer?”

Hasan of Basra and the fire-worshipper
Hasan had a neighbour  named Simeon who was a fire- worshipper. Simeon  fell ill and  was  at  death’s  door. Friends  begged Hasan  to visit him;  he called,  to find him in bed, blackened  with fire and smoke.
“Fear   God,”   Hasan   counselled   him.   “You   have passed all your life amid fire and smoke. Accept Islam, that God may have mercy on you.”
“Three   things   hold   me  back   from   becoming   a Muslim,” the fire-worshipper replied. “The first is, that you speak ill of the world,  yet night and day you pur- sue worldly  things.  Secondly,  you say that  death  is a fact  to  be  faced,  yet  you  make  no  preparation  for death.  In the third place, you say that God’s face shall be seen, yet today  you do everything  contrary  to His good pleasure.”
“This is the token of those who know truly,” Hasan  commented. “Now if believers act as you describe, what have you to say? They acknowledge the unity of God; whereas you have spent your life in the worship  of fire. You who have worshipped fire for seventy years, and I who  have never worshipped fire—we are both  carried off to Hell. Hell will consume you and me. God will pay

8     hasan of basra

no regard  to you; but if God so wills, the fire will not dare so much as to burn one hair of my body. For fire is a thing created by God; and the creature is subject to the Creator’s  command. Come  now,  you  who  have  wor- shipped fire for seventy years; let us both put our hands into the fire, then you will see with your own eyes the impotence of fire and the omnipotence of God.”
So saying,  Hasan  thrust  his hand  into  the fire  and held it there. Not a particle of his body was affected or burnt.  When  Simeon  saw  this  he  was  amazed.  The dawn of true knowledge  began to break.
“For   seventy  years  I  have  worshipped   fire,”  he groaned.  “Now  only a breath  or two  remains  to me. What am I to do?”
“Become a Muslim,” was Hasan’s reply.
“If you give it me in writing that God will not pun- ish me,” said Simeon, “then  I will believe. But until I have it in writing,  I will not believe.”
Hasan wrote it down.
“Now  order just witnesses of Basra to append their testimony.”
The witnesses endorsed  the document. Then Simeon wept  many  tears  and  proclaimed  the  faith.  He spoke his last testament  to Hasan.
“When I die, bid them wash me, then commit me to the earth  with  your  own  hands,  and  place  this docu- ment in my hand.  This document  will be my proof.”

hasan of basra     9

Having charged Hasan thus, he spoke the attestation of  faith  and  died.  They  washed  his  body,  said  the prayer over him, and buried him with the document  in his hand.  That  night  Hasan  went  to sleep pondering what he had done.
“How could I help a drowning  man, seeing that I am drowning  myself? Since I have no control over my own fate,  why did I venture  to  prescribe  how God  should act?”
With this thought he fell asleep. He saw Simeon in a dream  glowing  like  a  candle;  on  his  head  a  crown, robed in fine raiment,  he was walking with a smile in the garden of Paradise.
“How are you, Simeon?” Hasan  enquired.
“Why do you ask? You can see for yourself,” Simeon answered.  “God  Almighty of His bounty brought  me nigh His presence and graciously showed me His face. The favours He showered upon me surpass all descrip- tion. You have honoured your guarantee; so take your document. I have no further  need of it.”
When  Hasan  awoke,  he saw that  parchment  in his hand.“Lord God,”  he cried,  “I know  well  that  what Thou doest is without cause, save of Thy bounty.  Who shall suffer loss at Thy door? Thou grantest  a Guebre of  seventy  years  to   come  into   Thy  near   presence because  of  a  single  utterance. How  then  wilt  Thou exclude a believer of seventy years?”




Malek  ibn Dinar

Malek ibn Dinar al-Sami was the son of a Persian slave from Sejestan (or Kabol) and became a dis- ciple of Hasan of Basra. He is mentioned  as a reli- able traditionist, transmitting from such early authorities as Anas ibn Malek  and  Ibn Sirin. A noted  early calligrapher of the Koran,  he died c.
130 (748).

How Malek-e Dinar came to be so named, and the story of his repentance
When  Malek  was  born  his  father  was  a  slave;  yet though  he was a slave’s son, he was free from bondage  to both worlds.
Some say that  Malek-e  Dinar  once  embarked  in a ship.  When  the ship was  far  out  to sea the  mariners  demanded,
“Produce   your   fare!”   “I   do   not   have   it,”   he answered.
They beat him till he was senseless. When he recov- ered, they shouted  again.
“Produce  your fare!”
“I do not have it,” he repeated.
They beat him unconscious  a second time. When he came to, they demanded  a third time.

12     malek ibn  dinar

“Produce  your fare!” “I do not have it.”
“Let  us seize him by the feet and  throw  him  over- board,” the sailors shouted.
All the fish in the water at that moment  put up their heads. Each one held two golden dinars  in its mouth.  Malek reached  down his hand and, taking  two dinars from one of the fish, gave it to them.  Seeing this, the crew  fell  at  his  feet.  He  walked  on  the  face  of  the waters and vanished.
That is why he was called Malek-e Dinar.
Now  his conversion  came about  as follows. He was a very handsome man and fond of worldly things, and he  possessed  great  wealth.   He  lived  in  Damascus, where   Mo’awiya   had   built   the   cathedral  mosque, endowing  it  liberally.  Malek  was  very  eager  to  be appointed in charge  of that  mosque.  So he  went and threw   his  prayer   rug   down   in  the   corner   of  the mosque, and there for a whole year continued in devo- tion, hoping  that whoever saw him would  find him at prayer.
“What  a hypocrite  for you!”  he would  say to him- self.
A year passed in this way. By night he would leave the mosque and take his amusement. One night he was enjoying  music,  and  all  his  companions  had  fallen

malek ibn  dinar     13

asleep.  Suddenly  a  voice came  from  the  lute  he  was playing.
“Malek,  what ails thee that thou repentest  not?” Hearing these words, Malek dropped  the instrument
and ran to the mosque in great confusion.
“For a whole year I have worshipped God hypocrit-  ically,”  he communed  with  himself.  “Is it not  better that   I  should  worship   God  in  sincerity?  Yet  I  am ashamed.  What  am I to do? Even if they offer me this appointment, I will not accept it.”
So he resolved, and he put his conscience right with
God.
That  night  he  worshipped  with  a  truthful  heart. Next day people assembled as usual before the mosque. “Why,   there   are   cracks   in  the   mosque,”  they exclaimed. “A superintendent ought to be appointed to
keep it in order.”
They reached  the unanimous view that  no one was better   fitted for the post than Malek.  So they came to him. He was at -e prayer,  so they waited patiently  until he was finished.
“We  have  come  to  plead  with  you  to  accept  this appointment,” they said.
“O God,”  cried Malek,  “I served Thee hypocritical- ly for a whole year, and no one looked at me. Now that I have given my heart to Thee and firmly resolved that

14     malek ibn  dinar

I do not want the appointment, Thou hast sent twenty men to me to place this task on my neck. By Thy glory, I do not want it.”
And he ran out of the mosque and applied himself to the  Lord’s work, taking up the life of austerity and dis- cipline.  So 18 respected  did  he  become,  and  of such excellence of life, that l when a certain wealthy citizen of Basra died, leaving behind a lovely daughter, the lat- ter approached Thabet-e  Bonani.
“I   wish   to   become   the   wife   of   Malek,”   she announced, “so that  he may help me in the labour  of obedience to God.”  Thabet  informed Malek.
“I have divorced  the world,” Malek  replied.  “This woman  belongs to the world I have divorced.  I cannot  marry her.”

Malek and his licentious neighbour
There was a certain youth living in Malek’s neighbour- hood  who was extremely depraved and dissolute in his ways. Malek e was constantly pained on account  of his bad  behaviour, but  he  endured  patiently  waiting  for someone  else to speak. To be brief, in due course oth- ers came forward  to complain  about  the   young man. Malek then arose and went to him to bid him mend his ways.  The  youth  reacted  in  a  very  headstrong  and overbearing  manner.

malek ibn  dinar     15

“I am the Sultan’s favourite,” he told  Malek.  “No one  has  the  power  to check  me or  restrain  me from doing as I please.”
“I will talk to the Sultan,”  Malek threatened.
“The Sultan will never swerve from his approval of me,”  the  youth   retorted.  “Whatever  I  do,  he  will approve.”
“Well, if the Sultan cannot do anything,” Malek pro- ceeded, “I will tell the All-merciful.”
And he pointed  to heaven.
“Ha,” the youth replied. “He is too generous to take me to task.”
This floored Malek, and he left him. Some days went by,  and  the  youth’s  depravity  surpassed  all  bounds. People  came  again  to  complain.  Malek  rose  up  to rebuke him; but on the way he heard a voice.
“Keep your hands off My friend!” Amazed, Malek went in to the youth.
“What  has happened,” the youth demanded  on see- ing him, “that  you have come a second time?”
“I  have  not  come  this  time  to chide  you,”  Malek answered.  “I have  come  simply  to  inform  you that  I heard such a voice.”
“Ah,”  the  youth  exclaimed.  “Since  things  are  like that,  I dedicate my palace wholly to His service. I care nothing  for all my possessions.”

16     malek ibn  dinar

So saying,  he cast  everything  aside  and  set  out to wander  the world.
Malek  relates  that  after  a certain  time  he saw  the youth in Mecca, utterly destitute  and at his last breath. “He  is my friend,”  he gasped.  “I  went  to see my
friend.”  And with that he expired.

Malek and his abstinence
Years  passed  without anything  sour  or sweet  passing Malek’s lips. Every night he would repair to the baker’s and buy two round  loaves on which he broke his fast. From  time  to  time  it  happened  that  the  bread  was warm;  he found  consolation in that,  taking  it as an appetizer.
Once he fell sick, and a craving for meat entered his heart.  For ten days he controlled himself; then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he went to a delicatessen and bought  two or three sheep’s trotters  and put them in his sleeve. The shopkeeper  sent his apprentice  after him to see what  he would  do. After a little while the boy returned  in tears.
“From here he went to a desolate spot,” he reported. “There he took  the  trotters  out  of his  sleeve, kissed them twice or thrice, then he said, ‘My soul, more than this is not meet for you.’ Then he gave the bread  and trotters to a beggar, saying, ‘Weak body of mine, do not think that all this pain I impose on you is out of enmi-

malek ibn  dinar     17

ty. It is so that  on the resurrection morn you may not burn in Hell. Be patient  for a few days, and it may be that this trial will come to an end, and you will fall into bliss that shall never pass away.’”
Once Malek said, “I do not know the meaning of the statement  that  if a  man  does  not  eat  meat  for  forty days,  his intelligence  is diminished.  I  have  not  eaten meat for  twenty  years,  and  my  intelligence  increases every day.”
For forty years he lived in Basra and never ate fresh dates.  When  the season  of ripe dates  came  round  he would say, “People of Basra, behold, my belly has not shrunk  from not  eating  them,  and you who  eat them daily—your  bellies have not become any larger.”
After forty years he was assailed by a mood of rest- lessness.  However  hard  he tried,  he could  not  with- stand  the  craving  for  fresh  dates.  Finally  after  some days, during which the desire daily increased whilst he constantly  denied his appetite,  he could resist no more the importunity of his carnal soul.
“I will not eat fresh dates,”  he protested. “Either kill me, or die!”
That night a heavenly voice spoke.
“You  must  eat  some  dates.  Free  your  carnal  soul from bondage.”
At this response his carnal soul, finding the opportu- nity, began to shout.

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“If you want  dates,”  Malek  said,  “fast  for a  week without breakfasting once, and pray all night.  Then I will give you some.”
This contented  his carnal soul. For a whole week he prayed all night and fasted all day. Then he went to the market  and bought  some dates, and betook  himself to the  mosque  to  eat  them.  A  boy  shouted   from  the rooftop.
“Father!  A Jew has bought  dates and is going to the mosque to eat them.”
“What  business has a Jew in the mosque?”  the man exclaimed.  And he ran  to see who  the Jew  might  be. Beholding Malek,  he fell at his feet.
“What  were those  words  the boy uttered?”  Malek demanded.
“Excuse him, master,”  the boy’s father pleaded. “He is only a child, and does not understand. In our quar- ter many Jews live. We are constantly fasting, and our children  see the Jews eating  by  day.  So they suppose that everyone who eats anything  by day is a Jew. What he said he said in ignorance.  Forgive him!”
When Malek heard this, a fire consumed his soul. He realized that the child was inspired to speak as he had. “Lord God,”  he cried,  “I had  not eaten  any dates, and Thou didst call me a Jew by the tongue of an inno- cent child. If I eat the dates, Thou wilt proclaim me an
unbeliever. By Thy glory, if I ever eat any dates!”


Habib  al-Ajami

Habib   ibn   Mohammad  al-‘Ajami   al-Basri,   a Persian settled at Basra, was a noted  traditionist who   transmitted  from  al-Hasan   al-Basri,   Ibn Sirin, and other authorities. His conversion  from a  life  of  ease  and  self-indulgence  was  brought about  by al-Ha’an’s eloquence; he was a frequent attendant at his lectures,  and became  one of his closest associates.

The story of Habib the Persian
Habib  to  begin  with  was  a  man  of  property  and a usurer.  He dwelt in Basra, and every day he made the rounds to dun his clients. If he got no money, he would demand payment for his shoe leather. In this manner he covered his daily expenditure. One day he had gone to look for a certain debtor. The man was not at home; so failing to find him, he demanded  shoe leather payment.  “My husband  is not at home,”  the debtor’s wife told him. “I myself have nothing to give you. We had killed a sheep, but only the neck is left. If you like I will give
you that.”
“That   is  something,”  the  usurer  replied,  thinking  that he might at least take the sheep’s neck off her and carry it home. “Put a pot on the fire.”

20     habib al-ajami

“I   have   neither   bread   nor   fuel,”   the   woman  answered.
“Very well,” the man said. “I will go and fetch fuel and bread,  and it can be charged to shoe leather.”
So he  went  off  and  fetched  these  things,  and the woman  set  the  pot.  When  the  pot  was  cooked  the woman was  about  to  pour  its  contents  into  a  bowl when a beggar knocked  at the door.
“If we give you what  we have got,”  Habib shouted  at him, “you will not become rich, and we will become poor ourselves.”
The beggar, despairing,  petitioned  the woman to put something   in  the   bowl.   She  lifted   the   lid   of  the saucepan,  and found that its contents had all turned to black blood.  Turning  pale she hurried back and taking Habib  by the hand,  led him towards  the pot.
“Look  what  has  happened   to  us  because  of  your cursed  usury,  and  your  shouting  at  the  beggar!”  she cried. “What will become of us now in this world, not to mention  the next?”
On seeing this,  Habib  felt a fire within  him  which never afterwards subsided.
“Woman,” he said, “I repent of all I have done.” Next day he went out to look for his clients. It hap-
pened to be a Friday, and the children were playing in the  street.  When  they  sighted  Habib  they  started  to shout.

habib al-ajami     21

“Here  comes  Habib  the usurer.  Run  away,  lest  his dust settles on us and we become as cursed as he!”
These words hurt Habib very much. He took his way to the meeting  hall,  and  there  certain  phrases  passed Hasan  of Basra’s lips which  struck  Habib  straight  to the   heart,   so  that   he   fainted.   Then   he  repented.  Realizing  what  had happened, Hasan  of  Basra  took him by the hand and calmed him.
As he returned  from the meeting he was spotted by one of his debtors,  who made to run away.
“Do not run away,” Habib  called to him. “Till now it was for you to flee from me; now I must run away from you.”
He passed on. The children were still playing. When they sighted Habib  they shouted  again.
“Here comes Habib the penitent.  Run away, lest our dust settles on him, for we are sinners against God.”
“My  God  and  Master!” cried  Habib.  “Because of this  one  day  that  I have  made  my  peace  with  Thee, Thou hast beaten the drums of men’s hearts for me and noised my name abroad for virtue.”
Then he issued a proclamation.
“Whoever  wants  anything  from  Habib,  come  and take it!”
The people gathered  together,  and he gave away all his possessions  so that  he was left  penniless.  Another man came with a demand. Having nothing  left, Habib

22     habib al-ajami

gave him his wife’s chaddur. To  another  claimant he gave his own shirt, and remained naked. He repaired to a hermitage  on the banks of the Euphrates, and there gave himself up to the worship of God. Every night and day he studied under Hasan,  but he could not learn the Koran,   for  which   reason   he  was   nicknamed   the Barbarian.
Time  passed,  and  he was  completely  destitute.  His wife asked him for housekeeping  money constantly. So Habib  left his house  and  made  for the  hermitage  to resume his devotions.  When night came he returned  to his wife.
“Where  have you been working,  not  to bring  any- thing home?”  his wife demanded.
“The one I have been working  for is extremely gen- erous,”  Habib  replied.  “He  is so generous  that  I am ashamed  to ask  him  for  anything.  When  the  proper  time comes, he will give. For he says, ‘Every ten days I pay the wages.’”
So Habib repaired daily to the hermitage to worship,  till ten days were up. On the tenth  day at the time of the midday prayer a thought entered his mind.
“What  can I take home tonight,  and what am I to tell my wife?”
And he pondered  this deeply. Straightway Almighty God sent a porter to the door of his house with an ass- load of flour, another  with a skinned sheep, and anoth-

habib al-ajami     23

er with oil, honey, herbs,  and seasonings.  The porters  loaded  up all this. A handsome  young man accompa-  nied them with a purse of three hundred  silver dirhams.  Coming to Habib’s house, he knocked  on the door.
“What  do you want?”  asked Habib’s  wife, opening the door.
“The Master  has sent all this,” the handsome youth replied.  “Tell  Habib,  ‘You increase  your  output, and we will increase your wages.’”
So saying, he departed. At nightfall  Habib proceed- ed   homeward,   ashamed    and   sorrowful.   As   he approached his house, the aroma of bread and cooking assailed  his  nostrils.  His  wife  ran  to  greet  him  and wiped  his  face  and  was  gentle  with  him  as she  had never been before.
“Husband,” she cried, “the man you are working for is a very fine gentleman,  generous  and  full  of loving kindness. See what he sent by the hand of a handsome young  man!  And  the  young  man  said,  ‘When  Habib comes home,  tell him, You increase  your output, and we will increase your wages.’”
Habib was amazed.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I worked for ten days, and he did me all this kindness.  If I work harder,  who knows what he will do?”
And he turned  his face wholly  away  from  worldly things and gave himself up to God’s service.

24     habib al-ajami

The miracles of Habib
One day an old woman  came to Habib  and, falling at his feet, wept bitterly.
“I have a son who has been absent  from me a long time. I can no longer endure to be parted from him. Say a prayer  to God,”  she begged Habib. “It may be that by the blessing of your prayer God will send him back to me.”
“Have you any money?”  Habib  asked her. “Yes, two dirhams,” she replied.
“Bring them, and give them to the poor.”
And Habib  recited a prayer,  then he said to the old woman,
“Be gone. Your son has returned  to you.”
The old woman  had not yet reached the door of her house, when she beheld her son.
“Why, here is my son!” she shouted,  and she brought him to Habib.
“What  happened?” Habib  enquired  of him.
“I was in Kerman,” the son replied. “My teacher had sent me to look for some meat. I obtained  the meat and was just returning  to him, when the wind seized hold of me. I heard a voice saying,
“‘Wind, carry him to his own home, by the blessing of Habib’s prayer and the two dirhams given in alms.’” One  year on the eighth  day of  Dho  l-Hejja,  Habib
was seen in Basra and on the ninth day at Arafat.

habib al-ajami     25

Once a famine was raging in Basra. Habib purchased many  provisions   on  credit  and  gave  them  away  as alms. He fastened his purse and placed it under his pil- low. When the tradesmen came to demand payment,  he would  take  out  his  purse  and  it was full of dirhams, which he gave away as loans.
Habib  had a house  in Basra on the crossroads.  He also had a fur coat which he wore summer and winter. Once, needing to perform  the ritual washing,  he arose and left his coat on the ground. Hasan  of Basra, hap- pening  on  the  scene,  perceived  the  coat  flung  in the road.
“This ‘barbarian’  does not know its value,” he com- mented. “This fur coat ought not to be left here. It may get lost.”
So he stood there watching  over it. Presently Habib  returned.
“Imam   of  the  Muslims,”   he  cried  after  saluting
Hasan,  “why are you standing  here?”
“Do you not know,”  Hasan  replied,  “that  this coat ought not to be left here? It may get lost. Say, in whose charge did you leave it?”
“In His charge,”  Habib  answered,  “who appointed you to watch over it.”
One day Hasan came to call on Habib.  Habib placed two  rounds  of  barley  bread  and  a  little  salt  before Hasan.  Hasan began to eat. A beggar came to the door,

26     habib al-ajami

and Habib  gave the two rounds  and the salt to him. “Habib,” remarked  the astonished  Hasan, “you are
a  worthy  man.  If only  you  had  some  knowledge,  it would  be better.  You took  the  bread  from  under  the nose of your  guest and  gave it all to the beggar.  You ought to have given a part to the beggar and a part to the guest.”
Habib said nothing.  Presently a slave entered with a tray on his head. A roast lamb was on the tray, togeth- er with sweetmeat and fine bread, and five hundred  sil- ver dirhams.  He set the tray before Habib.  Habib gave the  money  to  the  poor,  and  placed  the  tray  before Hasan.
“Master,” he said when Hasan had eaten some of the roast,  “you  are a good  man.  If only you  had  a little faith, it would be better. Knowledge must be accompa-  nied by faith.”
One day officers of Hajjaj were searching for Hasan. He was hiding in Habib’s hermitage.
“Have you seen Hasan today?”  the officers demand-  ed of Habib.
“I have seen him,” he answered.  “Where  was he?”
“In this hermitage.”
The officers entered  the hermitage,  but for all their searching they did not find Hasan.  (“Seven times they laid  their  hands  on  me,”  Hasan  afterwards related, “but  they did not see me.”)

habib al-ajami     27

“Habib,” Hasan remarked  on leaving the hermitage,  “you  did not  observe  your  duty  to  your  master.  You pointed  me out.”
“Master,” Habib  replied,  “it was because I told the truth  that  you escaped.  If I had  lied, we  would  both have been arrested.”
“What  did  you  recite,  that  they  did  not  see  me?” Hasan  asked.
I   recited   the   Throne-verse    ten   times,”   Habib answered.  “Ten times I recited The Messenger believes, and  ten times  Say, He  is  God,  One.  Then  I said,  ‘O God,  I have  committed  Hasan  to  Thee.  Watch  over him.’ “
Hasan once wished to go to a certain place. He came down  to the  bank  of the  Tigris,  and  was  pondering something to himself when Habib arrived on the scene.
“Imam,  why are you standing  here?” he asked.
“I wish to go to a certain  place.  The boat  is  late,”  Hasan  replied.
“Master,  what   has   happened   to  you?”   Habib demanded. “I learned all that I know from you. Expel from your heart all envy of other men. Close your heart against  worldly  things.  Know  that  suffering  is a pre- cious prize, and see that all affairs are of God. Then set foot on the water and walk.”
With that Habib stepped on to the water and depart-  ed.  Hasan  swooned.  When  he  recovered,  the  people asked him,

28     habib al-ajami

“Imam of the Muslims, what happened  to you?” “My  pupil  Habib  just  now  reprimanded me,”  he
replied. “Then  he stepped  on the water  and departed, whilst I remained  impotent. If tomorrow a voice cries,
‘Pass over the fiery pathway’—if I remain impotent like this, what can I do?”
“Habib,” Hasan  asked later, “how did you discover this power?”
“Because I make my heart white, whereas you make paper black,”  Habib  replied.
“My learning  profited  another,  but it did not profit me,” Hasan  commented.


Rabe’a al-Adawiya

Rabe’a bint Esma’il al-‘Adawiya, born in hum- ble circumstances and sold into slavery as a child, later  settled  in  Basra  where  she  attained   great fame  as a saint  and  a preacher  and  was  highly esteemed by many  of her pious  contemporaries. The date  of her death  is given variously  as 135 (752) and 185 (801). To her, a lifelong celibate, is attributed a large share  in the introduction into Islamic  mysticism  of  the  theme  of  Divine  love. Her tomb used to be pointed  out near Jerusalem.

Rabe’a, her birth and early life
If anyone says, “Why have you included Rabe’a in the rank of men?” my answer is, that  the Prophet  himself said, “God does not regard your outward forms.”  The root  of the  matter  is not  form,  but  intention, as the Prophet said, “Mankind will be raised up according  to their  intentions.” Moreover, if it is proper  to  derive two-thirds of our religion from A’esha, surely it is per- missible to take religious instruction from a handmaid of A’esha.  When  a  woman  becomes  a  “man” in the path of God, she is a man and one cannot any more call her a woman.
The  night  when  Rabe’a  came  to  earth,  there  was nothing whatsoever  in her father’s house; for her father

30     rabe‘a al-adawiya

lived in very poor  circumstances. He did not  possess even one drop of oil to anoint  her navel; there was no lamp, and not a rag to swaddle her in. He already had three daughters, and Rabe’a was his fourth; that is why she was called by that name.
“Go to neighbour  So-and-so  and beg for a drop of oil, so that I can light the lamp,”  his wife said to him. Now  the man  had  entered  into  a  covenant  that  he would  never ask any mortal  for anything.  So he went out and just laid his hand on the neighbour’s  door, and
returned.
“They will not open the door,”  he reported.
The poor woman wept bitterly. In that anxious state the man placed his head on his knees and went to sleep. He dreamed  that he saw the Prophet.
“Be not  sorrowful,” the  Prophet  bade  him.  “The girl  child  who  has  just  come  to  earth  is  a  queen among  women,  who  shall be the  intercessor  for sev- enty  thousand  of  my  community   Tomorrow,”  the Prophet continued,  “go to Isa-e Zadan  the governor  of Basra.  Write  on a piece of paper  to the following effect.  ‘Every  night  you  send  upon  me  a  hundred blessings, an on Friday night four hundred. Last night was Friday night, and you forgot me. In expiation  for that,   give  this  man   four   hundred   dinars   lawfully acquired.’”

rabe‘a al-adawiya     31

Rabe’a’s father on awaking  burst into tears. He rose up and wrote as the Prophet  had bidden him, and sent the message to the governor  by the  hand of a cham- berlain.
“Give two thousand dinars  to the poor,”  the gover- nor   commanded  when   he  saw  the   missive,  “as   a thanksgiving   for  the  Master  remembering   me.  Give four hundred  dinars also to the shaikh, and tell him, ‘I wish you to come to me so that I may see you. But I do not hold it proper  for a man like you to come to me. I would rather come and rub my beard in you threshold. However,   I  adjure  you  by  God,  whatever  you  may need, pray let me know.’”
The man took  the gold and purchased  all that was necessary
When  Rabe’a  had  become  a  little  older,  and  her mother  and  father  were  dead,  a  famine  came  upon Basra, and her sisters were scattered. Rabe’a ventured  out and was seen by a wicked man who seized her and then sold her for six dirhams.  He purchaser  put her to hard labour.
One  day  she  was  passing  along  the  road  when a stranger  approached. Rabe’a fled. As she ran,  she fell headlong  and her hand was dislocated.
“Lord God,” she cried, bowing her face to the ground, “I am a stranger,  orphaned of mother and father, a help-

32     rabe‘a al-adawiya

less prisoner  fallen into captivity,  my hand broken. Yet for all this I do not grieve; all I need is Thy good plea- sure, to know whether  Thou art well-pleased or no.”
“Do not grieve,” she heard a voice say. “Tomorrow a station shall be thine such that the cherubim in heav- en will envy thee.”
So Rabe’a returned  to her master’s house. By day she continually  fasted  and  served  God,  and  by night  she worshipped standing  until  day.  One  night  her master awoke from sleep and, looking through  the window of his apartment, saw Rabe’a bowing prostrate and pray- ing.
“O God, Thou knowest  that  the desire of my heart is in conformity  with Thy command, and that the light of my eye is in serving Thy court. If the affair lay with me, I would  not rest one hour from serving Thee, but Thou  Thyself  hast  set  me  under  the  hand  of a crea- ture.”
Such was her litany. Her master  perceived a lantern  suspended  without any chain above her head, the light whereof filled  the  whole  house.  Seeing this,  he  was afraid.  Rising up he  returned to his bedroom  and sat pondering  till  dawn.  When  day  broke  he summoned Rabe’a, was gentle with her and set her free.
“Give me permission  to depart,” Rabe’a said.
He gave her leave, and she left the house and went

rabe‘a al-adawiya     33

into the desert. From the desert she proceeded to a her- mitage  where  she served  God  for  a  while.  Then  she determined  to perform the pilgrimage, and set her face towards  the desert. She bound her bundle on an ass. In the heart of the desert the ass died.
“Let us carry your load,”  the men in the party said. “You go on,” she replied. “I have not come putting
my trust in you.”
So the men departed, and Rabe’a remained alone. “O God,”  she cried,  lifting her head,  “do  kings so
treat a woman  who is a stranger  and powerless? Thou hast invited me unto  Thy house,  then in the midst of the way Thou  hast suffered my ass to die, leaving me alone in the desert.”
Hardly  had she completed  this orison  when her ass stirred and rose up. Rabe’a placed her load on its back, and continued  on her way. (The narrator of this story reports  that  some  while  afterwards he saw that  little donkey  being  sold  in  the  market.)   She  travelled  on through  the desert for some days, then she halted.
“O God,” she cried, “my heart is weary. Whither am I going? I a lump of clay, and Thy house a stone! I need Thee here.”
God spoke unmediated in her heart.
“Rabe’a,  thou art faring in the life-blood of eighteen thousand  worlds.   Hast   thou   not  seen  how  Moses

34     rabe‘a al-adawiya

prayed for the vision of Me? And I cast a few motes of revelation  upon the mountain, and the mountain shiv- ered into forty pieces. Be content here with My name!”

Anecdotes  of Rabe’a
One night Rabe’a was praying  in the hermitage when she  was  overcome  by  weariness  and  fell  asleep.  So deeply  was she absorbed  that,  when  a  reed from  the reed-mat  she was lying on broke in her eye so that the blood flowed, she was quite unaware  of the fact.
A  thief  entered  and  seized  her  chaddur.  He  then made  to  leave,  but  the  way  was  barred  to  him.  He dropped  the  chaddur   and  departed,  finding  the  way now open. He seized the chaddur again and returned  to discover the way blocked. Once more he dropped  the chaddur. This  he  repeated  seven times  over;  then  he heard  a  voice proceeding  from  a  corner  of  the  her- mitage.
“Man,  do  not  put  yourself  to such  pains.  It  is  so many years now that she has committed herself to Us. The Devil himself has not the boldness  to slink round her.  How  should  a  thief  have  the  boldness  to  slink round  her  chaddur?  Be gone,  scoundrel!  Do  not  put yourself to such pains.  If one friend has fallen asleep, one Friend is awake and keeping watch.”

Two notables  of the Faith came to visit Rabe’a, and both were hungry.

rabe‘a al-adawiya     35

“It may be that  she will give us food,”  they said to each other. “Her  food is bound  to come from a lawful source.”
When  they sat down  there  was a napkin  with  two loaves laid before them. They were well content. A beg- gar  arrived  just  then,  and  Rabe’a  gave  him  the  two loaves. The two men of religion were much upset, but said nothing. After a while a maidservant entered with a handful of warm bread.
“My mistress sent these,” she explained.
Rabe’a counted  the loaves. There were eighteen. “Perhaps  it was not  this that  she sent me,”  Rabe’a
remarked.
For all that  the maidservant assured  her, it profited nothing.  So she took back the loaves and carried them away. Now it so happened  that  she had taken  two of the loaves for herself. She asked her mistress,  and she added  the  two  to  the  pile  and  returned   with  them. Rabe’a  counted again,  and  found  there  were  twenty loaves. She now accepted them.
“This is what your mistress sent me,” she said.
She set the loaves before the two men and they ate, marveling.
“What   is the  secret  behind  this?”  they  asked  her. “We had an appetite for your own bread, but you took it away  from us and  gave it to the  beggar.  Then  you said that  the  eighteen  loaves  did  not  belong  to you. When they were twenty, you accepted them.”

36     rabe‘a al-adawiya

“I knew  when  you arrived  that  you were  hungry,” Rabe’a replied. “I said to myself, How can I offer two loaves to two such notables?  So when the beggar came to the door  I gave them to him and said to Almighty God, ‘O God, Thou hast said that  Thou repayest  ten- fold, and this I firmly believed. Now I have given two loaves to please Thee, so that Thou mayest give twen- ty in return for them.’ When eighteen were brought  me, I knew that  either there had been some misappropria- tion, or that they were not meant for me.”

One day Rabe’a’s servant girl was making an onion stew; for it was some days since they had cooked any food. Finding that she needed some onions,  she said,
“I will ask of next door.”
“Forty  years  now,”  Rabe’a  replied,  “I  have  had a covenant  with  Almighty  God  not  to ask  for aught  of any but He. Nevermind  the onions.”
Immediately a bird swooped down from the air with peeled onions  in its beak  and  dropped  them  into  the pan.
“I am not sure this is not a trick,”  Rabe’a comment- ed.
And she left the onion  pulp alone,  and ate nothing  but bread.

Rabe’a  had  gone  one  day into  the  mountains.  She was soon surrounded by a flock of deer and mountain

rabe‘a al-adawiya     37

goats,  ibexes  and  wild asses which  stared  at her  and made to approach her. Suddenly Hasan  of Basra came on the scene and,  seeing Rabe’a,  moved  in her direc- tion. As soon as the animals sighted Hasan,  they made off all together,  so  that  Rabe’a  remained  alone.  This dismayed Hasan.
“Why did they run away from me, and associated so tamely with you?” he asked Rabe’a.
“What  have you eaten today?”  Rabe’a countered. “A little onion pulp.”
“You  eat  their  fat,”  Rabe’a  remarked. “Why  then should they not flee from you?”

Once Rabe’a passed by Hasan’s  house.  Hasan had his head out of the window and was weeping, and his tears fell on Rabe’a’s dress. Looking  up, she thought at  first  that  it  was  rain;  then,  realizing  that  it  was Hasan’s  tears, she turned  to him and addressed  him.
“Master, this weeping is a sign of spiritual languor. Guard  your  tears,  so  that  there  may  surge  within you  such  a  sea  that,  seeking  the  heart  therein,  you shall   not   find   it  save  in   the  keeping   of  a  King Omnipotent’.”
These words distressed Hasan,  but he kept his peace. Then one day he saw Rabe’a when she was near a lake. Throwing  his prayer rug on the surface of the water, he called,
“Rabe’a,  come! Let us pray two rak’as here!”

38     rabe‘a al-adawiya

“Hasan,” Rabe’a  replied,  “when  you  are  showing off  your  spiritual   goods  in  this  worldly  market,   it should be things that your fellow-men are incapable  of displaying.”
And she flung her prayer rug into the air, and flew up on it.
“Come  up here,  Hasan,  where  people  can see  us!”
she cried.
Hasan,  who had not attained  that station,  said noth- ing. Rabe’a sought to console him.
“Hasan,” she said, “what  you did fishes also do, and what I did flies also  do.  The  real  business  is  outside both these tricks. One must apply one’s self to the real business.”

One night Hasan  with two or three friends went to visit  Rabe’a.   Rabe’a   had   no  lantern.   Their   hearts yearned for light.
Rabe’a blew on her hunger,  and that night till dawn her finger shone like a lantern,  and they sat in its radi- ance.
If anyone says, “How could this be?” I answer, “The same  as Moses’  hand.”  If it is objected,  “But  Moses was a prophet,” I reply, “Whoever follows in the foot- steps  of the  Prophet  can  possess  a grain  of prophet- hood, as the Prophet says, ‘Whoever rejects a farthing’s worth   of  unlawful   things  has  attained   a  degree  of

rabe‘a al-adawiya     39

prophethood.’ He also said, ‘A true dream is one-forti-  eth part of prophethood.’ “

Once  Rabe’a  sent  Hasan  three  things—a  piece  of wax, a needle, and a hair.
“Be like wax,”  she said.  “Illumine  the  world,  and yourself  burn.  Be like  a  needle,  always  be  working naked.  When you have done these two things, a thou- sand years will be for you as a hair.”
“Do you desire for us to get married?” Hasan asked
Rabe’a.
“The  tie  of  marriage   applies  to  those  who  have being,”  Rabe’a  replied.  “Here  being has  disappeared, for  I  have  become  naughted   to  self  and  exist  only through  Him.  I belong  wholly  to  Him.  I live in the shadow of His control.  You must ask my hand of Him, not of me.”
“How   did  you  find  this  secret,  Rabe’a?”  Hasan  asked.
“I lost all ‘found’ things in Him,”  Rabe’a answered.  “How  do you know Him?”  Hasan enquired.
“You know the ‘how’; I know the ‘howless’,” Rabe’a said.

Once Rabe’a saw a man with a bandage  tied round  his head.
“Why have you tied the bandage?” she asked.

40     rabe‘a al-adawiya

“Because my head aches,” the man replied. “How  old are you?” she demanded. “Thirty,” he replied.
“Have you been in pain and anguish the greater part of your life?” she enquired.
“No,”  the man answered.
“For thirty years you have enjoyed good health,” she remarked, “and you never tied about  you the bandage  of thankfulness. Now  because  of this  one  night  that you  have  a  headache   you  tie  the  bandage   of  com- plaint!”

Once Rabe’a gave four silver dirhams  to a man. “Buy me a blanket,” she said, “for I am naked.” The man departed. Presently he returned. “Mistress,” he said, “what  colour shall I buy?”
“How  did ‘colour’ come into the business?” Rabe’a demanded. “Give me back the money.”
And she took  the dirhams  and flung them into  the
Tigris.
One  spring  day Rabe’a  entered  her apartment  and put out her head.
“Mistress,”  her  servant  said,  “come  out  and  see what the Maker  has wrought.”
“Do you rather  come in,” Rabe’a replied,  “and see the Maker.  The contemplation of the Maker pre-occu- pies me, so that I do not care to look upon what He has made.”

rabe‘a al-adawiya     41

A party visited her, and saw her tearing  a morsel of meat with her teeth.
“Do you not have a knife to cut up the meat?” they asked.
“I have never kept  a knife in my house  for  fear of being cut off,” she replied.

Once Rabe’a fasted for a whole week, neither eating nor sleeping. All night she was occupied with praying. Her  hunger  passed  all bounds.  A  visitor  entered  her house bringing a bowl of food. Rabe’a accepted it and went to fetch a lamp. She returned  to find that the cat had spilled the bowl.
“I will go and fetch a jug, and break  my fast,” she said.
By the time she had brought  the jug, the lamp had gone out. She aimed to drink the water in the dark, but the  jug slipped  from  her  hand  and  was  broken.  She uttered  lamentation and sighed  so ardently  that  there was  fear  that  half  of the  house  would  be consumed with fire.
“O  God,”  she  cried,  “what   is this  that  Thou  art doing with Thy helpless servant?”
“Have  a care,”  a voice came to her ears, “lest thou desire Me to bestow on thee all worldly blessings, but eradicate  from thy heart the care for Me. Care for Me and worldly blessings can never be associated  together in a single heart. Rabe’a, thou desirest one thing, and I

42     rabe‘a al-adawiya

desire another;  My desire and thy desire can never be joined in one heart.”
“When  I heard this admonition,” Rabe’a related, “I so cut off my heart  from the world  and curtailed  my desires that whenever I have prayed during the last thir- ty years, I have assumed it to be my last prayer.”

A party of men once visited her to put her to the test, desiring to catch her out in an unguarded utterance.
“All the virtues have been scattered  upon the heads of men,”  they said.  “The  crown  of  prophethood has been placed  on men’s heads.  The belt of nobility  has been  fastened  around  men’s  waists.  No  woman  has ever been a prophet.”
“All that  is true,”  Rabe’a replied.  “But egoism and self-worship and ‘I am your Lord, the Most High’ have never sprung  from a woman’s  breast. No woman  has ever been a hermaphrodite. All these things have been the specialty of men.”

Once Rabe’a fell grievously sick. She was asked what the cause might be.
“I gazed upon Paradise,” she replied, “and my Lord disciplined me.”
Then Hasan  of Basra went to visit her.
“I saw one of the notables  of Basra standing  at the door of Rabe’a’s hermitage  offering her a purse of gold

rabe‘a al-adawiya     43

and weeping,”  he reported. “I said, ‘Sir, why are you weeping?’  ‘On  account  of this  saintly  woman  of the age,’ he  replied.  ‘For  if the  blessing  of  her  presence departs   from  among  mankind,  mankind   will  surely perish. I brought something for her tending,’ he added,
‘and  I am afraid  that  she will not  accept  it. Do  you intercede with her to take it.’ “
So Hasan  entered  and spoke.  Rabe’a glanced up at him and said,
“He provides for those who insult Him, and shall He not provide for those who love Him? Ever since I knew Him,  I  have  turned  my  back  upon  His  creatures.   I know not whether any man’s property  is lawful or not; how then can I take it? I stitched together  by the light of a worldly lamp a shirt which I had torn. For a while my heart  was obstructed, until  I remembered.  Then  I tore the shirt in the place where I had stitched  it, and my heart  became dilated.  Ask the gentleman  pray not to keep my heart obstructed.”

Abd al-Wahed-e Amer relates as follows.
I went with Sofyan-e Thauri to visit Rabe’a when she was sick, but out of awe for her I could not begin to address her.
“You say something,” I said to Sofyan.
“If  you  will say a prayer,”  Sofyan  said  to  Rabe’a, “your  pain will be eased.”

44     rabe‘a al-adawiya

“Do you not know who has willed that I should suf- fer? Was it not God?”  Rabe’a demanded.
“Yes,” Sofyan agreed.
“How  is it that  you know  that,”  Rabe’a  went  on, “and  yet you  bid me to request  from  Him  the  con- trary  of  His  will?  It  is  not  right  to  oppose  one’s Friend.”
“What  thing do you desire, Rabe’a?”  Sofyan asked. “Sofyan, you are a learned man. Why do you speak like that?  ‘What thing do you desire?’ By the glory of God,”   Rabe’a  asseverated,   “for  twelve  years  now  I have been desiring fresh dates. You know that in Basra dates  are  of no  consequence.  Yet till now  I have  not eaten any; for I am His servant,  and what business has a  servant  to  desire?  If I wish,  and  my Lord  does  not wish,  this  would  be  infidelity.  You  must  want  only what  He wishes, to be a true  servant of God.  If God
himself gives, that  is a different  matter.” Sofyan was reduced to silence. Then he said,
“Since  one  cannot  speak  about  your  situation,  do you say something  about  mine.”
“You are a good man, but for the fact you love the world,” Rabe’a replied. “You love reciting Traditions.” This she said, implying that that was a high position.  “Lord  God,”  cried Sofyan, deeply moved,  “be con-
tent with me!”

rabe‘a al-adawiya     45

“Are you not ashamed,” broke  in Rabe’a,  “to seek the contentment of One  with  whom  you  yourself  are not content?”

Malek-e Dinar relates as follows.
I went  to visit Rabe’a,  and  saw her with  a  broken  pitcher  out  of which  she drank  and  made  her  ritual ablutions, an old reed-mat,  and a brick which she occa- sionally used as a pillow. I was grieved.
“I have rich friends,”  I told her. “If you wish, I will get something  from them for you.”
“Malek,  you have committed  a grievous error,” she answered.  “Is not my Provider  and theirs one and the same?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“And has the Provider of the poor forgotten  the poor on account  of their  poverty?  And does He  remember the rich because of their riches?” she asked.
“No,”  I replied.
“Then,” she went  on,  “since  He knows  my  estate, how should I remind Him? Such is His will, and I too wish as He wills.”

One day Hasan of Basra, Malek-e Dinar and Shaqiq- e Balkhi went to visit Rabe’a on her sickbed.
“He  is  not  truthful   in  his  claim,”  Hasan  began,

46     rabe‘a al-adawiya

“who  does  not  bear  with  fortitude   the  lash  of  his
Lord.”
“These words stink of egoism,”  Rabe’a commented. “He is not truthful  in his claim,” Shaqiq tried, “who
is not grateful for the lash of his Lord.”
“We  need   something   better   than   that,”   Rabe’a observed.
“He  is  not  truthful   in  his  claim,”  Malek-e  Dinar offered,  “who  does not take delight in the lash of his Lord.”
“We  need   something   better   than   that,”   Rabe’a repeated.
“Then you say,” they urged.
“He   is  not   truthful   in  his  claim,”   Rabe’a   pro- nounced,  “who  does not forget the lash in contempla- tion of his Master.”
A  leading  scholar  of  Basra  visited  Rabe’a  on  her sickbed. Sitting beside her pillow, he reviled the world. “You love the world very dearly,” Rabe’a comment- ed. “If you did not love the world, you would not make mention  of it so much. It is always the purchaser  who disparages the wares If you were done with the world, you would not mention  it either for good or evil. As it is, you keep mentioning  it because as the proverb says,
whoever loves a thing mentions  it frequently.”

When  the time came that  Rabe’a  should  die,  those attending  her  deathbed  left the  room  and  closed  the

rabe‘a al-adawiya     47

door. Then a voice was heard saying, O soul at peace, return  unto thy Lord, well-pleased!  A time passed and no sound came from the room, so they opened the door and  found  that  she had  given  up the ghost  After her death  she was seen in a dream.  She was asked “How did  you  fare  with  Monkar and  Nakir?” She replied “Those  youths  came  to  me  and  said,  ‘Who  is  thy Lord?’  I answered,  ‘Return  and  say to God,  with  so many thousand thousand creatures Thou didst not for- get one feeble old woman.  I, who have only Thee in the whole  world,  I  shall  never,  forget  Thee,  that  Thou shouldst  sent one to ask me, Who is thy, God?’”

Prayers of Rabe’a
O  God,  whatsoever  Thou  hast  apportioned to  me of worldly, things, do Thou give that to Thy enemies; and whatsoever, Thou hast apportioned to me in the world to come,  give that  to Thy  friends;  for Thou  sufficest me.
O God, if I worship  Thee for fear of Hell, burn me in  Hell  and  if  I worship  Thee  in  hope  of  Paradise, exclude  me from  Paradise;  but  if I  worship  Thee  for Thy own sake, grudge me not Thy everlasting beauty.
O  God,  my whole  occupation and  all my  desire in this world of all worldly  things, is to remember  Thee, and in the world to come, of all things of the world to come,  is to meet Thee.  This is on my side, as I have stated; now do Thou whatsoever  Thou wilt.




Al-Fozail  ibn Iyaz

Abu ‘Ali al-Fozail ibn ‘Iyaz al-Talaqani  was born in Khorasan, and in the beginning of his career he is said to have been a highwayman. After conver- sion he went to Kufa and later to Mecca,  where he resided for many years and died in 187 (803). He achieved considerable  repute  as an authority on  Traditions,  and  his  boldness   in  preaching before Harun  al-Rashid  is widely reported.

Fozail the highwayman and how he repented
At the beginning of his career, Fozail-e Iyaz pitched his tent  in  the  heart   of  the  desert  between  Merv  and Bavard.  He  wore  sackcloth  and  a  woollen  cap,  and hung a rosary around his neck. He had many compan-  ions  who  were  all of them  thieves  and  highwaymen. Night  and  day they robbed  and  pillaged,  and  always brought  the proceeds to Fozail since he was the senior’ of them. He would divide the loot among the bandits,  keeping for himself what he fancied. He kept an inven- tory of everything, and never absented himself from the meetings  of  the  gang.  Any  apprentice   who  failed  to attend  a meeting he expelled from the gang.
One day a great caravan  was passing that  way, and Fozail’s confederates  were on the alert for it. A certain man  was’  travelling  in  the  convoy  who  had  heard

50     al-fozail-e iyaz

rumour  of the brigands.  Sighting them, he took coun- sel with himself how he might conceal his bag of gold. “I will hide this bag,”  he said to  himself.  “Then  if they waylay the caravan,  I will have this capital to fall
back on.”
Going aside from the road,  he saw Fozail’s tent and Fozail himself close by it, an ascetic by his looks and the clothes he wore. So he entrusted the bag of gold to him.
“Go and put it in the corner of the tent,”  Fozail told him.
The man did as he was bidden,  and returned  to the caravan halt, to find that  it had been pillaged. All the luggage had been carried out, and the travellers bound hand and foot. The man released them, and collecting the little that  remained  they took their departure. The man returned  to Fozail to recover his bag of gold. He saw him squatting with the robbers,  as they divided up the spoil.
“Ah,  I gave  my bag  of gold  to a  thief!”  the  man exclaimed.
Seeing him afar off, Fozail hailed the man, who came to him.
“What  do you want?”  he asked.
“Take it from where you deposited  it,” Fozail bade him. “Then  go.”
The man  ran  into  the tent,  picked  up his bag,  and departed.

al-fozail-e iyaz     51

“Why,”  cried  Fozail’s  companions,  “in  the  whole caravan we did not find so much as one dirham in cash, and you give back ten thousand dirhams!”
“The  man  had  a good  opinion  of me, and  I  have always  had  a  good  opinion   of  God,  that  He  will grant  me repentance,” Fozail replied. “I justified his good opinion,  so that God may justify my good opin- ion.”
One day later they waylaid another  caravan and car- ried off the baggage. As they sat eating, a traveller from the caravan  approached them.
“Who is your chief?” he asked.
“He is not with us,” the brigands  replied. “He is the other side of the tree by the river bank, praying.”
“But   it  is  not   the   hour   of  prayer,”   the   man exclaimed.
“He is performing  a work of supererogation,” one of the thieves explained.
“And he is not eating with you,” the man went on. “He is fasting,”  the thief replied.
“But it is not Ramazan.”
“Supererogation again,”  the thief retorted.
Greatly  astonished, the  traveller  drew  near  Fozail who was praying  with great humility.  He waited until he had finished, then he remarked.
“Opposites do not  mingle,  they say. How  can  one fast  and  rob,   pray   and  at  the  same  time   murder  Muslims?”

52     al-fozail-e iyaz

“Do you know the Koran?”  Fozail asked the man. “I know it,” the man replied.
“Well then, does not Almighty God say And others have confessed their sins; they have mixed a righteous deed with another evil?”
The man was speechless with astonishment.
It is said that by nature  he was chivalrous  and high- minded, so that if a woman was travelling in a caravan  he never took her goods; in the same way, he would not pillage the property  of anyone with slender capital. He always  left each  victim  with  a due  proportion of his belongings. All his inclination was towards  right doing. At the beginning of his exploits  Fozail was passion- ately  in  love  with  a  certain  woman,   and  he  always brought  her the proceeds  of his brigandage. In season and out of season he climbed walls in the infatuation of
his passion for the woman,  weeping all the while.
One night a caravan was passing, and in the midst of the caravan  a man  was chanting  the  Koran.  The fol- lowing  verse reached  Fozail’s  ears: Is it not  time  that the hearts of those who believe should  be humbled  to the remembrance of God? It was as though  an arrow  pierced his soul, as though  that verse had come out to challenge Fozail and say, “O Fozail, how long will you waylay  travellers?  The time has come when  We shall waylay you!”

al-fozail-e iyaz     53

Fozail  fell from  the  wall,  crying,  “It  is high  time indeed, and past high time!”
Bewildered  and  shamefaced,  he fled headlong  to a ruin.  There a party  of travellers  was encamped.  They said, “Let us go!” One of them interjected,  “We cannot  go. Fozail is on the road.”
“Good  tidings!”  Fozail cried. “He has repented.” With  that  he set out  and  all day  went  on his way
weeping,   satisfying   his  adversaries.   Finally   there remained only a Jew in Bavard. He sought quittance  of him, but the Jew would not be reconciled.
“Today we can make light of these Mohammadans,”
he chuckled to his fellows.
“If  you  want  me to grant  you  quittance,” he  told
Fozail, “clear this heap.”
He pointed  to a mound  of sand,  to remove  which would  tax  all the  strength  of a  man  except  perhaps over a long period.  The hapless Fozail shovelled away the sand little by little, but how should the task ever be completed? Then one morning,  when Fozail was utter- ly exhausted, a  wind  sprang  up  and  blew  the  heap clean away. When the Jew saw what had happened  he was amazed.
“I have sworn,”  he told Fozail, “that  until you give me  money  I will  not  grant  you  quittance.  Now  put your hand under this rug and take up a fistful of gold

54     al-fozail-e iyaz

and give it to me. My oath will then be fulfilled, and I
will give you quittance.”
Fozail entered the Jew’s house. Now the Jew had put some earth under the rug. Fozail thrust his hand under, and brought  forth a fistful of dinars which he gave to the Jew.
“Offer me Islam!” cried the latter.
Fozail  offered  him  Islam,  and  the  Jew  became  a
Muslim.
“Do you know  why I have become a Muslim?” he then said. “It is because until today I was not certain which was the true religion. Today it has become clear to me that  Islam is the true 3 religion; for I have read in the Torah that if any man repents sincerely and then places his hand on earth,  the earth turns to gold. I had put earth  under  the rug to prove you. When you laid your hand  on the earth  and it turned  to gold, I knew for  sure  that  your  repentance  was  a  reality  and  that your religion is true.”
“For  God’s  sake,”  Fozail  begged a man,  “bind me hand and foot and bring me before the Sultan, that he may exercise judgment  against me for the many crimes I have committed.”
The  man  did  as  he  requested.   When  the  Sultan beheld Fozail, he observed  in him the marks  of right- eous folk.

al-fozail-e iyaz     55

“I cannot  do this,”  he said. And he ordered him to be returned  to his apartment with  honour. When  he reached  the door  of the  apartment he uttered  a loud cry.
“Hark    at    him    shouting!”   people    remarked. “Perchance  he is being beaten.”
“Indeed,  I have been sorely beaten,” Fozail replied. “In what part?”  they asked.
“In my soul,” he answered. Then he went in to his wife.
“Wife,” he announced, ‘I would  visit God’s House.  If you wish, I will set you free.”
“I will never go apart  from you,”  his wife  replied. “Wherever  you may be, I will be with you.”
So they  set  out  and  in  due  time  came  to  Mecca, Almighty God making the road easy for them. There he took up residence near the Kaaba, and met some of the Saints. He companioned Imam Abu Hanifa for a while, and many stories are told of his extreme  discipline. In Mecca the  gates of oratory  were opened  to him,  and the Meccans thronged  to hear him preach. Soon all the world was talking  about  him,  so that  his  family and kinsmen set forth from Bavard and came to look upon him. They knocked  at his door, but he would not open it.  They  for  their  part  would  not  depart,   so  Fozail mounted  the roof of his house.

56     al-fozail-e iyaz

“What  idlers you are!” he cried to them. “God give you employment!”
He spoke  many  such words,  till they all wept  and were beside themselves. Finally, despairing of enjoying his society,  they went  away.  He still  remained  on the roof and did not open the door.

Fozail and Haran al-Rashid
One   night   Harun   al-Rashid   summoned   Fazl   the
Barmecide, who was one of his favourite  courtiers. “Take me to a man this night who will reveal me to
myself,”  he bade  him.  “My  heart  is grown  weary  of pomp and pride.”
Fazl  brought   Harun   to  the  door  of  the  house  of
Sofyan-e Oyaina.  They knocked  at the door. “Who is it?” Sofyan asked.
“The Commander of the Faithful,” Fazl replied. “Why  did  he trouble  himself  so?”  Sofyan  said. “I
ought to have been informed,  then I could have come myself to him.”
“This  is not  the  man  I am seeking,”  Harun  com- mented “He fawns upon me like the rest.”
Hearing   of   what   had   happened,  Sofyan   said, “Fozail-e  Iyaz is such a man as you are  seeking.  You must go to him.” And he recited this verse: Or do those who commit  evil deeds think that We shall make them as those who believe and do righteous deeds?

al-fozail-e iyaz     57

“If  I am  seeking  good  counsel,  this  is  sufficient,”
remarked  Harun.
They knocked  at Fozail’s door. “Who is it?” Fozail asked.
“The Commander of the Faithful,” Fazl replied. “What business has he with me, and what have I to
do with him?” Fozail demanded.
“Is it not a duty to obey those in authority?” coun- tered Fazl.
“Do not disturb  me,” cried Fozail.
“Shall  I enter  with  an  authority or  a  command?”
said Fazl.
“There is no such thing as authority,” replied Fozail. “If you enter by force, you know what you are doing.”  Harun  entered.  As he approached  Fozail,  the latter blew  out  the  lamp  so as not  to  see his face.  Harun
stretched out his hand,  and Fozail’s hand met it.
“How  smooth  and soft this palm is, if only it could escape from Hell-fire!”  Fozail remarked.
So saying, he arose and stood in prayer.  Harun was much affected and weeping overcame him.
“Say  something  to me,”  he begged.  Fozail  saluted him and then spoke.
“Your ancestor,  the Prophet’s uncle, once demanded of the Prophet,  ‘Make me commander over some peo- ple.’ The  Prophet  replied,  ‘Uncle, for  one  moment  I have made you commander over yourself.’ By this he

58     al-fozail-e iyaz

meant, ‘For you to obey God for one moment  is better than  a  thousand years  of  people  obeying  you.’  The Prophet  added,  ‘Command  shall be a cause of regret- ting on the Day of Resurrection.’ “
“Say more,”  Harun  pleaded.
“When   Omar   ibn   Abd   al-Aziz   was   appointed caliph,”  Fozail related,  “he summoned Salem ibn Abd Allah,  Raja’ ibn Hayat,  and  Mohammad ibn Ka’b. ‘I have been afflicted with this trial,’ he told them. ‘What am I to do? For I know  this high office to be a trial, even though  men count  it for a blessing.’ One  of the three said, ‘If you wish tomorrow to escape from God’s punishment, look upon  aged Muslims  as though each were your father, and regard youthful Muslims as your brothers, Muslim  children  as your own sons, treating  them in all respects  as  one does one’s father,  brother,  and son.’ “
“Say more,”  Harun  repeated.
“The lands of Islam are as your own house, and their inhabitants your family,” Fozail said. “Visit your father, honour your brother,  and be good to your son. I fear,” he added, “that  your handsome face will be sorely tried by the fire of Hell. Fear God, and obey His command. And be watchful and prudent; for on the Resurrection Day  God  will  question   you  concerning   every  single Muslim,  and He will exact justice from you in respect of every one.  If one night  an old woman  has gone to

al-fozail-e iyaz     59

sleep in a house without provisions,  she will pluck your skirt on that Day and will give evidence against you.”
Harun  wept  bitterly,  so that  his consciousness  was like to fail.
“Enough!   You  have  slain  the  Commander of  the
Faithful,”  chided Fazl the vizier.
“Be silent, Haman,” cried Fozail. “It is you and your creatures who are destroying him, and then you tell me that I have killed him. Is this murder?”
At these words Harun  wept even more copiously. “He  calls  you  Haman,” he  said,  turning  to  Fazl,
“because he equates me with Pharaoh.” Then, address- ing Fozail, he asked,
“Have you a debt outstanding?”
“Yes,” replied Fozail. “A debt of obedience to God. If He takes me to task over this, then woe is me!”
“I am speaking of debts owed to men, Fozail,” said
Harun.
“Thanks  be to God,”  cried Fozail, “who has blessed me abundantly, so that I have no complaint to make to His servants.”
Then  Harun  placed  a  purse  of  a  thousand  dinars before him.
“This is lawful coin, of my mother’s inheritance,” he said.
“Commander  of  the  Faithful,”  said  Fozail,  “the counsels I have spoken  to you have yielded no profit.

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Even  now  you  have  recommenced  wrongdoing  and resumed injustice.”
“What  wrongdoing?” demanded  Harun.
“I call you to salvation,  and you cast me into temp- tation.  This is wrongdoing indeed,”  said Fozail. “I tell you, give back what  you possess to its proper  owner. You for your part give it to another  to whom it should not be given. It is useless for me to speak.”
So saying, he rose up from the caliph’s presence and flung the gold out of the door.
“Ah, what  a man he is!” exclaimed  Harun, leaving Fozail’s house.  “Fozail  is in truth  a king  of men.  His arrogance  is  extreme,   and  the  world   is  very  con- temptible  in his eyes.”

Anecdotes  of Fozail
One day Fozail was holding  in his lap a four-year-old child, and by chance placed his mouth  on its cheek as is the wont of fathers.
“Father,  do you love me?” asked the child. “I do,” replied Fozail.
“Do you love God?” “I do.”
“How many hearts do you have?” the child asked. “One,” answered  Fozail.
“Can  you love two with one heart?”  demanded the child.

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Fozail  at  once  realized  that  it  was  not  the  child speaking, but that in reality it was a Divine instruction. Jealous for God, he began to beat his head and repent- ed. Severing his heart from the child, he gave it to God. One day Fozail was standing  at Arafat.  All the pil- grims there were weeping and wailing, humbling them-
selves and making lowly petition.
“Glory  be to God!”  cried Fozail.  “If so many  men were to go to a man at one time and ask him for a sil- ver penny,  what  do you say? Would  that man  disap- point so many?”
“No,”  came the answer.
“Well,” said Fozail, “surely it is easier for Almighty God to forgive them all, than for that man to give a sil- ver penny. For He is the most bountiful of the bounti- ful, so there is good hope that He will pardon  all.”
Once  Fozail’s son suffered  an obstruction of  urine. Fozail came and lifted up his hands.
“O Lord,”  he prayed,  “by my love for Thee deliver him out of this sickness.”
He had  not  yet risen from his knees when  the  boy was healed.
Fozail would  often say in prayer:  “Lord  God, have mercy! For Thou knowest  my repentance; and do not punish me, for Thou hast all power over me.” Then he would  add,  “O  God,  Thou  keepest  me  hungry,  and Thou  keepest  my  children  hungry.  Thou  keepest  me

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naked,  and  Thou  keepest  my  children  naked.  Thou givest not  to me a lantern  by night.  All  these  things Thou  doest  to Thy friends.  By  what  spiritual  station  has Fozail earned this felicity from Thee?”
For thirty years no man saw Fozail smile, except on the day when his son died. Then he smiled.
“Master, what  time  is  this  for  smiling?”  he  was asked.
“I realized that God was pleased that my son should die,” he answered. “I smiled to accord with God’s good pleasure.”
Fozail    had    two    daughters.   When    his    end approached, he laid a last charge upon his wife.
“When  I die, take  these girls and  go to  Mount  Bu Qobais.  There lift your face to heaven and say, ‘Lord God,  Fozail laid a charge  upon  me saying,  “Whilst  I was  alive,  I  protected  these  helpless  ones  as  best  I could. When Thou madest me a prisoner in the fastness of the grave, I gave them back to Thee.’”
When Fozail was buried,  his wife did as he had bid- den her.  She went  out  to the  mountaintop  and  con- veyed her daughters  there. Then she prayed with much weeping  and  lamentation. At  that  very  moment  the Prince  of Yemen  passed  by there  with  his two  sons. Seeing them weeping and making  moan,  he enquired, “Whence  are you come?”

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Fozail’s wife explained  the situation.
“I  give  these  girls  to  these  my  sons,”  the  prince announced. “I give each of them as a dowry ten thou- sand dinars.  Are you content with this?”
“I am,” their mother  replied.
At once the prince furnished  litters and carpets and brocades,  and conveyed them to Yemen.




Ebrahim  ibn Adham

Abu Eshaq Ebrahim ibn Adham, born in Balkh of pure Arab descent, is described in Sufi legend as a prince  who  renounced   his  kingdom  (somewhat after  the fashion  of the Buddha)  and  wandered westwards to live a life of complete  asceticism, earning  his bread in Syria by honest  manual  toil until  his death  in c. 165  (782).  Some accounts state  that  he  was  killed  on  a  naval  expedition against Byzantium.  The story of his conversion  is a classic of Muslim hagiography.

The legend of Ebrahim ibn Adham
Ebrahim  ibn Adham’s  saintly  career  began  in the  fol- lowing  manner.  He  was  king  of Balkh,  and  a whole world was under his command;  forty gold swords and forty gold maces were carried before and behind  him. One  night  he was asleep  on his royal  couch.  At mid- night the roof of the apartment vibrated,  as if someone was walking on the roof.
“Who is there?”  he shouted.
“A friend,”  came the reply. “I have lost a camel, and am searching for it on this roof.”
“Fool, do you look for the camel on the roof?” cried
Ebrahim.

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“Heedless  one,”  answered  the voice, “do  you  seek for God in silken clothes, asleep on a golden couch?”
These   words   filled  his  heart   with   terror.   A  fire blazed  within  him, and  he could  not  sleep any more. When day came he returned to the dais and sat on his throne, thoughtful,  bewildered and  full of care.  The ministers  of  state  stood  each  in  his place;  his slaves were drawn  up in serried ranks.  General audience was proclaimed.
Suddenly a man with aweful mien entered the cham- ber, so terrible to look upon that none of the royal ret- inue and servants dared ask him his name; the tongues of all clove to their throats. He advanced  solemnly till he stood before the throne.
“What  do you want?”  demanded Ebrahim.
“I have just alighted  at this caravanserai,”  said  the man. “This  is not  a caravanserai. This  is my palace. You are mad,”  shouted  Ebrahim.
“Who  owned  this  palace  before  you?”  asked  the man.
“My father,”  Ebrahim replied. “And before him?”
“My grandfather.” “And before him?” “So-and-so.”
“And before him?”
“The father of So-and-so.”

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“Where  have they all departed?” asked the man. “They have gone. They are dead,”  Ebrahim replied. “Then  is  this  not  a  caravanserai  which  one  man
enters and another  leaves?”
With  these  words  the  stranger   vanished.  He  was Khezr,  upon  whom  be  peace.  The  fire  blazed  more fiercely still in Ebrahim’s  soul, and the anguish  within him augmented  momently. Visions by day followed the hearing  of  voices  by  night,  equally  mysterious   and incomprehensible.
“Saddle my horse,”  Ebrahim  cried at last. “I will go to the hunt. I know not what this thing is that has come upon me today. Lord God, how will this affair end?”
His  horse  was  saddled  and  he  proceeded   to  the chase. Headlong  he galloped across the desert; it was as if he knew not  9 what  he was doing.  In  that  state  of bewilderment he became separated from his troops.  On the way he suddenly heard a voice.
“Awake!”
He pretended  not to have heard, and rode on. A sec- ond time the voice came, but he heeded it not. A third time  he  heard  the  same,  and  hurled  himself  farther away. Then the voice sounded  a fourth  time.
“Awake, before you are stricken awake!”
He now lost all self-control.  At that  instant  a  deer started  up,  and  Ebrahim  prepared  to give  chase.  The deer spoke to him.

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“I have been sent to hunt you. You cannot catch me. Was it for this that  you were created,  or is  this what you were commanded?”
“Ah, what is this that has come upon me?” Ebrahim  cried.
And he turned  his face from the deer. He thereupon heard the same words  issuing from the pommel of his saddle.  Terror  and fear possessed him. The revelation became  clearer  yet, for  Almighty  God  willed to com- plete the  transaction. A third  time the selfsame  voice proceeded  from the collar of his cloak. The revelation  was thus consummated, and the heavens were opened unto him.
Sure  faith  was  now  established   in  him.  He  dis- mounted;  all his garments,  and  the horse  itself, were dripping   with  his  tears.  He  made  true  and  sincere repentance.  Turning   aside  from  the  road,  he  saw  a shepherd  wearing felt clothes and a hat of felt, driving his sheep before him. Looking  closely, he saw that  he was  a  slave of his. He bestowed on him his gold- embroidered cloak  and  bejewelled  cap,  together  with the sheep,  and  took  from  him his clothes  and  hat  of felt.  These  he  donned  himself.  All  the  angelic  hosts stood gazing on Ebrahim.
“What  a kingdom  has come to the son of Adham,” they cried. “He has cast away the filthy garments of the world, and has donned  the glorious robes of poverty.”

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Even so he proceeded on foot to wander over moun- tains and endless deserts, lamenting  over his sins, until he came to Merv. There he saw a man who had fallen from the bridge and was about  to perish,  swept away by the river. Ebrahim shouted  from afar.
“O God, preserve him!”
The man remained suspended in the air until helpers arrived  and  drew  him  up.  They  were  astonished   at Ebrahim.
“What  man is this?” they cried.
Ebrahim  departed  from that  place, and marched on to Nishapur. There  he searched  for a  desolate corner where he might busy himself with obedience to God. In the end he hit upon the famous cave where he dwelt for nine years, three years in each apartment. Who knows what occupied him there through  the nights and days? For it needed a mighty man of uncommon substance to be able to be there alone by night.
Every Thursday  he would  climb  above  the  cavern and  collect  a  bundle  of  firewood.   Next  morning  he would  set out,  for Nishapur and there sell the brush- wood. Having performed  the Friday prayers, he would buy bread with the money he had gained, give half to a beggar and use half himself to break his fast. So he did every week.
One winter’s night he was in that apartment. It was extremely cold, and he had to break the ice to wash. All

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night he shivered, praying through  till dawn.  By dawn he was in danger of perishing from the cold. By chance the thought ` of a fire entered  his mind. He saw a fur on the ground.  Wrapping himself up in the fur, he fell asleep. When he awoke it was -broad  daylight,  and he had  become warm.  He looked,  and  saw that  the fur was a dragon,  its eyes saucers of blood.  A mighty ter- ror came upon him.
“Lord  God,”  he cried,  “Thou  didst  send this  thing unto  me in a shape  of gentleness.  Now  I  see it in a dreadful  form. I cannot  endure it.”
Immediately the dragon moved away, twice or thrice rubbed its face in the ground before him, and vanished.

Ebrahim ibn Adham  goes to Mecca
When the fame of Ebrahim ibn Adham’s doings spread abroad  amongst  men, he fled from the cave and set out towards  Mecca. In the desert he encountered one of the great  men of the Faith,  who  taught  him the Greatest Name  of God  and  then  took  his departure. Ebrahim  called  upon  God  by that  Name,  and  immediately  he beheld Khezr, upon whom be peace.
“Ebrahim,” said Khezr, “that  was my brother David who taught  you the Greatest  Name.”
Then   many   words   passed   between   Khezr   and
Ebrahim.  Khezr was the first who drew Ebrahim out,

ebrahim ibn  adham     71

by the leave of God.  Ebrahim  relates  as follows  con- cerning the next stage of his pilgrimage.
“On reaching Dhat al-‘Erq I saw seventy men wear- ing the  patchwork frock  lying dead  there,  the  blood gushing  out  of their  noses  and  ears.  Circling  them,  I found one who still had a spark of life in him.
“‘Young man,’ I cried, ‘what has happened here?’ “‘Son  of  Adham,’  he  answered  me,  ‘keep  to  the
water and the prayer-niche. Go not far away, lest you be  banished;   and  come  not  too  near,  lest  you  be anguished.  Let no man be overbold  in the presence of Sultan. Have a lively fear of the Friend who slays pil- grims as if they were  Greek  infidels,  and  wages war upon pilgrims.  We were a Sufi community  who  had set out into the desert trusting in God, resolved not to utter one word,  to think of naught  but God, to move and be still only with God in view and to heed none but  Him.  When  we had crossed  the  desert  and were come to the place where pilgrims robe themselves in white,  Khezr,  upon  whom  be peace,  came to us. We greeted him, and he returned  our salute, and we were very  happy,  saying,  “Praise  be  to  God,  the  journey was blessed,  the  quester  has  reached  his  quest,  for such a holy person came out to meet us.” Forthwith a voice cried within us, “You liars and pretenders, such were your words  and covenant!  You forgot  Me, and

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busied  yourselves  with  another.   Depart!   I  will  not make peace with you until I snatch  away your souls in recompense and shed your blood with the sword of jealous wrath.” These brave men whom you see lying here   are   all   victims   of  this   retaliation.  Beware, Ebrahim!  You too  have the same ambition. Halt,  or depart  far away!’
“‘Why did they spare you, then?’ I asked, deeply per- plexed by his words.
“‘They  told  me,  “They  are  ripe,  you  are  still  raw. Live on a few moments  yet, and you too will be ripe. When you are ripe, you too will come in their wake.”’ So saying, he gave up the ghost.”
Ebrahim   was  fourteen   years  crossing  the  desert, praying and  humbling  himself  all the  way.  When  he drew near to Mecca, the elders of the Haram  hearing of his approach came out to meet him. He thrust  him- self ahead of the caravan so that  no one might recog- nize him.  The  servants  preceded  the  elders,  and  they saw Ebrahim going ahead of the caravan;  but not hav- ing  seen  him  before,   they  did  not   recognize   him. Coming up to him, they cried, “Ebrahim ibn Adham is near at hand.  The elders of the Haram have come out to meet him.”
“What   do  you  want   of  that   heretic?”   Ebrahim  demanded.

ebrahim ibn  adham     73

Straightway  they set upon him and beat him up. “The elders of Mecca go out to meet him, and you
call him a heretic?”  they shouted.
‘I say he is a heretic,”  Ebrahim  repeated.
When they left him, Ebrahim  turned  to himself. “Ha!” he cried. “You wanted the elders to come out
to meet you. Well, you have collected a few punches. Praise be to God that I have seen you get your wish!”
Ebrahim then took up residence in Mecca. A circle of companions formed  around   him,  and  he  earned  his bread by the labour  of his hands, working as a carpen- ter.

Ebrahim at Mecca is visited by his son
When Ebrahim ibn Adham quitted Balkh he left behind him  a  suckling  child.  The  latter,  by  now  grown  up, asked his mother  one day about his father.
“Your father is lost,” she replied.
The son thereupon made proclamation that all who desired  to  perform  the  pilgrimage  should  assemble. Four thousand presented  themselves. He gave them all their expenses to cover provisions  and camels and led the party  Meccawards, hoping  that  God  might  grant him sight of his father.  Reaching  Mecca, they encoun- tered by the door of the Holy Mosque a party of patch- work-frocked Sufis.

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“Do   you  know   Ebrahim   ibn  Adham?”   the   son enquired.
“He is a friend of ours,” they told him. “He is enter- taining us, and has gone to hunt for food.”
The son asked them to direct him, and he went in his track.   The  party  emerging  in  the  lower  quarter   of Mecca, he saw his father unshod and bareheaded com- ing along with a load of firewood.  Tears sprang to his eyes,  but  he  controlled   himself  and  followed  in  his father’s wake to the market.  There his father began to shout.
“Who will buy goodly things for goodly things?”
A  baker  called  to  him  and  took  the  firewood  in exchange  for  bread.  Ebrahim  brought  the  bread  and laid it before his companions.
“If  I say who  I am,”  the  son  feared,  “he  will  run away.”
So he went to take counsel with his mother as to the best way of recovering  his father.  His mother advised patience.
“Be patient  until we make the pilgrimage.”
When the boy departed, Ebrahim  sat down with his associates.
“Today  there  are  women  and  children  on this  pil- grimage. Mind your eyes,” he charged them.
All accepted his counsel.  When the pilgrims entered Mecca and made the circumambulation of the Kaaba,  Ebrahim  with  his  companions  also  circled  the  Holy

ebrahim ibn  adham     75

House.   A  handsome    boy   approached  him,   and Ebrahim looked at him keenly. His friends noticed this and were astonished, but waited until they had finished the circumambulation.
“God   have   mercy   on  you!”   they   then   said   to Ebrahim.  “You bade us not to glance at any woman or child, and then you yourself gazed at a handsome  lad.”
“Did you see?” Ebrahim exclaimed. “We saw,” they replied.
“When  I left Balkh,”  Ebrahim  told  them,  “I  aban- doned there a suckling son. I know that the lad is that son.”
Next  day one of the companions went  out  before Ebrahim to look for the caravan  from Balkh. Coming upon it, he observed in the midst of the caravan a tent pitched  all of brocade.  In  the tent  a throne  was set, and  the  boy  was  seated  on  the  throne,   reciting  the Koran  and  weeping.  Ebrahim’s   friend  asked  if  he might enter.
“Where  do you come from?”  he enquired.  “From Balkh,”  the boy replied.
“Whose son are you?”
The boy put his hand to his face and began to weep. “I have never seen my father,  “he said, laying aside the  Koran.   “Not   until   yesterday—I   do  not   know whether  it was he or not. I am afraid that if I speak he will  run  away,  as  he  ran  away  from  us  before.  My
father is Ebrahim-e  Adham the King of Balkh.”

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The man  seized him to bring  him to Ebrahim.  His mother  rose  and  went  along  with  him.  Ebrahim,   as they approached him, was seated with his companions before  the  Yemeni  Corner.  He  espied  from  afar  his friend  with  the  boy  and  his mother.  As soon  as the woman saw him she cried aloud and could control her- self no longer.
“This is your father.”
An  indescribable   tumult  arose.  All the  bystanders  and friends of Ebrahim burst into tears. As soon as the boy  recovered  himself  he  saluted  his father.  Ebrahim returned  his greeting and took him to his breast.
“What  religion do you follow?”  he asked. “The religion of Islam,” answered  his son.
“Praise be to God,”  cried Ebrahim.  “Do you know the Koran?”
“I do.”
“Praise be to God. Have you studied the faith?”  “I have.”
Then  Ebrahim  would  have  departed, but  the  boy would  not  let  go  of  him.  His  mother  wailed aloud. Turning  his face to heaven,  Ebrahim  cried,  “O  God, succour me!”
The boy immediately  expired in his embrace.
“What  happened, Ebrahim?” his companions  cried out.

ebrahim ibn  adham     77

`’When   I   took   him   to   my   breast,”   Ebrahim explained,  “love  for him stirred  in my  heart.  A voice spoke to me, ‘Ebrahim,  you claim to love Me, and you love another  along with Me. You charge your compan-  ions not to look upon any strange woman or child, and you  have  attached   your  heart   to  that  woman   and child.’ When I heard this call, I prayed, ‘Lord of Glory, come to my succour!  He will so occupy my heart that I shall forget to love Thee. Either take away his life or mine.’ His death was the answer to my prayer.”

Anecdotes  of Ebrahim ibn Adham
One day Ebrahim ibn Adham was asked, “What befell you, that you quit your kingdom?”
“I was seated on my throne one day,” he recalled. “A mirror  was held up before me; I looked into that  mir- ror and saw that my lodging was the tomb and therein was no familiar  friend. I saw a long journey  ahead of me, and I had no provision.  I saw a just judge, and I had no defence. I became disgusted of my kingship.’,
“Why did you flee from Khorasan?” they asked.
“I  heard  much  talk  there  of  the  true  friend,”  he replied.
“Why do you not seek a wife?” he was asked.
“Does  any woman  take a husband  for him to keep her hungry and naked?”  he countered.

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“No,”  they replied.
“That  is why I do not  marry,”  he explained.  “Any woman  whom  I married  would  remain  hungry  and naked.  If I only could,  I would  divorce  myself. How can I bind another  to my saddle?”
Then turning to a beggar who was present,  he asked him “Do you have a wife?”
“No,”  the beggar replied. “Do you have a child?”
`’No.”
“Excellent,  excellent,”  Ebrahim exclaimed. “Why do you say that?” asked the beggar.
“The beggar who marries embarks  on a ship. When the children come, he is drowned.”

One day Ebrahim  saw a beggar bewailing his lot. “I guess you bought  beggary gratis,”  he remarked. “Why,  is  beggary  for  sale?”  the  beggar  asked  in
astonishment.
“Certainly,” Ebrahim  replied.  “I bought  it with the kingdom of Balkh. I got a bargain.”
A man once brought  Ebrahim  a thousand dinars. “Take,”  he said.
“I do not  accept  anything  from beggars,”  Ebrahim replied “But I am wealthy,”  the man retorted.
“Do   you   want   more   than   you   own   already?”  Ebrahim asked

ebrahim ibn  adham     79

“Indeed,” the man exclaimed.
“Then  take  it back,”  said  Ebrahim.  “You  are  the chief of the beggars. Indeed, this is not beggary. This is plain penury.”

Ebrahim  was  told  of  an  ecstatic  youth  who  had extraordinary  experiences   and   disciplined   himself severely.
“Bring me to him so that I may see him,” he said. They took him to the youth.
“Be my guest for three days,” the youth invited him. Ebrahim  stayed there and observed the youth’s state attentively.  It surpassed  even what his friends had said. All night he was sleepless and restless, not reposing or slumbering  for a single moment.  Ebrahim felt a certain
jealousy.
“I am so frigid, and he is sleepless and unresting the whole night through. Come, let us investigate his case,” he said to himself.  “Let  us discover  if  anything  from Satan  has  invaded  his state,  or  whether  it is wholly pure and in all respects as it should be. I must examine the foundation of the matter.  The foundation and root of the matter  is what a man eats.”
So he investigated  what  the youth  was eating,  and discovered that it came from unhallowed sources.
“God   is   most   great.   It   is   Satanic,”   Ebrahim  exclaimed.

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“I have been your guest for three days,”  he said to the youth.  “Now  you come and be my guest for forty days.”
The youth accepted. Now the food Ebrahim ate was earned  by the labour  of his own  hands.  He  took  the youth  to  his  home  and  gave  him  of  his  own  food. Immediately  his ecstasy vanished.  All his ardour  and passion  disappeared. That  restlessness  and  sleepless- ness and weeping of his departed.
“What  have you done to me?” he cried.
“Yes,” Ebrahim  answered.  “Your  food  was  unhal- lowed. Satan was all the time going and coming in you. As soon as you swallowed  lawful food, the manifesta-  tions  he had  been  contriving in you became  revealed for what they were, the Devil’s work.”

Sahl ibn Ebrahim  tells the following story. `
I was making a journey with Ebrahim-e Adham, and on the way I fell sick. He sold all that he possessed and spent it on me. I begged him for something,  and he sold his ass and spent the proceeds on me.
“Where  is the ass?” I enquired  when I recovered.  “I sold it,” he replied.
“What  shall I sit on?” I demanded.
“Brother,”  Ebrahim   answered,   “come,   sit  on  my back.”

ebrahim ibn  adham     81

And he lifted me on his back and carried me for three stages.

Every day Ebrahim  went  out  to work  for hire  and laboured  till  night.  All his  earnings  he  expended  on behalf of his companions. But by the time he had per- formed the evening prayer and bought  something  and had returned  to his friends the night was far gone.
One night his companions said, “He is late in com- ing. Come, let us eat some bread and go to sleep. That will be a hint for him to return earlier in future. He will not keep us waiting so long.”
So they  did.  When  Ebrahim  returned  he saw  that they  were  asleep.  Supposing  that  they  had  not  eaten anything and had gone to sleep hungry, he at once lit a fire. He had brought  a little flour back with him, so he made dough to give them something  to eat when they woke,  then they would  be able to keep fast next day. His  companions awoke  to see him with  his beard  on the  floor,  blowing  on  the  fire;  tears  were  streaming  from his eyes, and he was surrounded by smoke.
“What  are you doing?”  they asked.
“I saw you were asleep,” Ebrahim replied. “I said to myself, perhaps  you could not find anything  and went to sleep hungry.  So I am making something  for you to eat when you awake.”

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“See how he thought about  us, and how we thought about  him,” they exclaimed.

“Since you entered on this path, have you ever expe- rienced happiness?” Ebrahim  was asked.
“Several  times,”  he replied.  “Once  I was on  board  ship and the captain  did not know me. I was wearing ragged clothes my hair was untrimmed, and I was in a spiritual  ecstasy of which all on board  were unaware. They  laughed  at  me  and  ridiculed  me.  There  was  a joker  on  the ship,  and every now and then  he would come and grab me by the hair and pluck it out and slap me on  the  neck.  In those  moments  I felt  that  I had attained  my desire, and was very happy to be so humil- iated.
“Suddenly  a  great  wave  arose,  and  all feared  that they would perish. ‘We must throw one of these fellows overboard,’ cried the helmsman. ‘Then the ship will be lighter.’ They seized me to throw  me into the sea. The wave  subsided,  and  the  ship  resumed  an  even  keel. That  moment when they took me by the ear to throw  me into the water,  I felt that  I had attained  my desire, and was happy.
“On  another  occasion  I went  to a mosque  to  sleep there. They would not let me be, and I was so weak and exhausted  that I could not get up. So they seized me by the  foot  and  dragged  me out.  Now  the  mosque  had

ebrahim ibn  adham     83

three steps; my head struck  against  each step in turn, and the blood flowed forth. I felt that I had attained my desire. On each step that they dropped me, the mystery of a whole clime became revealed to me. I said, ‘Would that the mosque had more steps, to increase my felici- ty!’
“On another  occasion I was rapt in a state of ecsta- sy. A joker came and urinated  on me. Then too I was happy.
“On  yet another  occasion  I was  wrapped  in a  fur jacket infested by fleas which devoured me unmerciful- ly. Suddenly I remembered  the fine clothes which I had deposited  in  the  treasury.  My  soul  cried  within  me,
‘Why,  what  pain  is this?’ Then  too  I felt that  I  had attained  my desire.”

“Once,” Ebrahim  related,  “I was journeying  in  the desert putting  my trust in God. For some days I found nothing to eat.  I remembered  a  friend  of mine,  but  I said  to myself, ‘If I go to  him,  my trust  in God  will become  void.’ I  entered  a mosque  with  the words  on my lips, ‘I have put my trust in the Living One who dies not. There is no God but He.’ A voice out of heaven cried, ‘Glory be to that God who has emptied the face of the earth  of those who trust  in Him.’ I said, ‘Why these words?’ The voice replied, ‘How should that man be truly trusting in God who undertakes a long journey

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for the sake o a morsel that a profane  friend may give him, and then declare “I have put my trust in the Living One who dies not”?  You have given the name of trust in God to a lie!’”

“Once I bought  a slave,” Ebrahim recalled. “‘What  is your name?’ I asked.
“‘What  you call me,’ he answered.  “‘What  do you eat?’
“‘What  you give me.’ “‘What  do you wear?’
“‘What  you clothe me withal.’ “‘What  do you do?’
“‘What  you command.’
“‘What  do you desire?’ I asked.
“‘What  has a servant to do with desire?’ he replied. “‘Wretch that you are,’ I said to myself, ‘all your life you have been a servant of God. Well, now learn what
it means to be a servant!’
“And I wept so long that I swooned  away.”

No one had ever seen Ebrahim  sitting crosslegged. “Why do you not sit crosslegged?”  he was asked.
“I did sit that  way one day,” he replied.  “I heard  a voice from the air saying, ‘Son of Adham, do servants sit  so  in  the  presence  of  their  lords?’  I  at  once  sat upright  and repented.

ebrahim ibn  adham     85

“Once  I  was  travelling  in  the  desert  trusting  in God, Ebrahim  related.  “For three days I found noth- ing to eat. The Devil came to me.
“‘Did  you  abandon your  kingdom  and  so  much luxury in order to go on the pilgrimage hungry?’ the Devil taunted  me. ‘You can also make the pilgrimage in style and not suffer so.
“Hearing  this speech of the Devil, I lifted my head on high.
“‘O God,’ I cried, ‘dost Thou appoint  Thy enemy over  Thy  friend  to  torture   me?  Come  to  my  suc- cour!  For  I  cannot  cross  this  desert  without Thy aid.’
“‘Ebrahim,’  a  voice  came  to  me,  ‘cast  out  what thou hast in thy pocket, that We may bring forth that which is in the Unseen.’
“I put my hand  in my pocket.  Four silver pennies were there which I had forgotten. As soon as I flung them away the Devil fled from me, and aliment mate- rialized out of the Unseen.”

“Once,” Ebrahim recalled, “I was appointed to look after an orchard. The owner  of the orchard came and said  to  me,  ‘Bring me  some  sweet  pomegranates.’  I brought  some, but they were sour.
“‘Bring   me  sweet   ones,’   the   owner   repeated.   I
brought  another  dishful, but they were also sour.

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“‘Glory be to God!’ the owner cried. ‘You have spent so long in an orchard, and you do not know ripe pome- granates?’
“‘I look after your orchard, but I do not know what pomegranates taste like because I have never sampled any,’ I replied
“‘With such self-denial, I suspect you are Ebrahim-e
Adham,’ the owner said.
“When  I heard  these  words,  I departed  from  that place.”

“One  night,”  Ebrahim  related,  ‘I saw Gabriel  in a dream come down to earth out of heaven with a scroll in his hand.
“‘What  do you want?’ I asked.
“‘I  am  writing  down  the  names  of  the  friends  of
God,’ Gabriel replied.
“‘Write down my name,’ I said.
“‘You are not of them,’ Gabriel answered.
“‘I am a friend of the friends of God,’ I rejoined. “Gabriel  pondered  for a while. Then he said,
“‘The command  has come. Inscribe Ebrahim’s name the first of all. For on this Path hope materializes out of despair.’”

Ebrahim  was travelling  in the desert  one day when he was accosted by a soldier.
“What  are you?” the soldier asked.

ebrahim ibn  adham     87

“A servant,” replied Ebrahim.
“Which is the way to habitation?” asked the soldier. Ebrahim  pointed  to the graveyard.
“You  are  making  fun  of me,”  shouted  the  soldier, lashing  out  at Ebrahim’s  head.  His head  was broken, and the blood gushed forth.
The  soldier  put  a  rope  round  Ebrahim’s  neck  and dragged him along. People from the nearby town com- ing that way stopped  at the spectacle.
“Ignoramus, this is Ebrahim-e  Adham,  the friend of
God,”  they cried.
The soldier fell at Ebrahim’s  feet and implored him to pardon  him and  acquit  him of the  wrong  he had done him.
“You told me you were a servant,” he pleaded. “Who   is  there  who  is  not  a  servant?”  Ebrahim
replied.
“I broke  your  head,  and  you prayed  for me,”  said the soldier.
“I prayed that you might be blessed for the way you treated  me,”  was  Ebrahim’s  answer.  “My  reward  for the way you  treated  me was  Paradise,  and  I did not wish that your reward should be Hell.”
“Why  did  you  direct  me  to  the  cemetery  when  I
asked the way to habitation?” the soldier asked. “Because  every  day  the  graveyard   becomes  more
thronged,  and   the   city  more   deserted,”   answered
Ebrahim.

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Once Ebrahim passed by a drunkard. His mouth was foul, so he fetched  water  and  washed  the  drunkard’s mouth.
“Do you leave foul the mouth that has mouthed the name  of God?  That  is irreverence!”  Ebrahim  said  to himself.
“The ascetic of Khorasan  washed your mouth,” they told the man when he woke.
“I too now repent,” the man declared.
After that  Ebrahim  heard  in a dream,  “Thou  didst wash a mouth for My sake. I have washed thy heart.”

I was once on shipboard with Ebrahim (relates Raja) when suddenly  a wind sprang  up and the world grew dark.
“Alas, the ship is sinking!”  I cried.
“Fear not that the ship will sink,” came a voice from the air. “Ebrahim-e Adham is with you.”
Immediately  the  wind  subsided,  and  the  darkened world became bright.

Ebrahim wished to embark  on a ship, but he had no money.
“Every one must pay a dinar,”  came the announce- ment.
Ebrahim prayed two rak’as, and said, “O God, they are demanding  money from me and I have none.”

ebrahim ibn  adham     89

Forthwith   the   whole   sea  was   turned   to   gold. Ebrahim  gathered  a handful  and gave it to them.

One  day  Ebrahim  was  seated  on  the  bank  of  the Tigris stitching his threadbare robe. His needle fell into the river.
“You gave up such a mighty kingdom.  What did you get in return?” someone asked him.
“Give back my needle,”  cried Ebrahim, pointing to the river.
A thousand fishes put up their heads from the water, each with a golden needle in its mouth.
“I want my own needle,” said Ebrahim.
A feeble little  fish held  up  Ebrahim’s  needle  in  its mouth.
“This is the least thing I have gotten by abandoning the kingdom  of Balkh,”  said  Ebrahim.  “The  rest you know nothing  of.”

One day Ebrahim  came to a well. He let down the bucket,  and it came up full of gold. He emptied it and let  it  down  again,  and  it  came  up  full  of  pearls.  In merry mood he emptied it once more.
“O God,” he cried, “Thou  art offering me a treasury. I know that Thou art all-powerful, and Thou knowest that I shall not be deluded by this. Give me water,  that I may make my ablution.”

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Once Ebrahim  was going on the pilgrimage in com- pany.
“Not  one of us has a camel or any provisions,” said his fellow-pilgrims.
“Rely  on  God  to  provide  for  you,”  Ebrahim  told them.
Then he added, “Look at those trees! If it is gold that you desire, they will be turned  to gold.”
All the acacias  had turned  to gold by the Power of
Almighty God.

One day Ebrahim  was travelling with a party when they came to a fort.  Before the fort was much brush- wood.
“We will pass the night  here,”  they said.  “There  is plenty of brushwood, so we can make a fire.”
They kindled a fire and sat in the light of the flames. All ate dry bread,  whilst Ebrahim  stood in prayer.
“If only we had some hallowed meat to roast on this fire,” said one.
Ebrahim  finished his prayer.  Then he said, “God is certainly able to give you hallowed meat.”
Saying   this,   he   stood   once   more   in   prayer. Immediately  came the roar of a lion. They watched  as a lion approached dragging  a wild ass. They took the ass, roasted it and ate it, whilst the lion crouched there watching  them.


Beshr ibn al-Hareth

Abu Nasr  Beshr ibn al-Hareth al-Hafi  was born near Merv c. 150(767)  and was converted from a life of dissipation, studied Traditions in Baghdad, then abandoned formal  learning  for the life of a mendicant, destitute,  starving  and  barefoot.  He died in Baghdad in 227 (841). He was admired by Ahmad  ibn Hanbal  and  respected  by the caliph al-Ma’mun.

The conversion of Beshr the Barefoot
Beshr the  Barefoot  was  born  in Merv  and  settled  at Baghdad. The beginning of his conversion happened  as follows. He had lived a life of dissipation, and one day as he was staggering along the road drunk  he found a piece of paper on which was written,  “In the Name of God,  the  Merciful,  the  Compassionate.” He  bought  some attar of roses and perfumed the paper with it, and deposited it reverently in his house. That night a certain holy man had a dream in which he was bidden  to tell Beshr:
“Thou  hast perfumed  my Name, so I have perfumed  thee. Thou  hast  exalted  my Name,  so  I  have  exalted thee. Thou hast purified  my Name, so I have purified thee. By my Majesty, I will surely perfume thy name in this world and the world to come.”

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“He   is  a   dissolute   fellow,”   thought  the   saint. “Perhaps I am seeing erroneously.”
So he made ablution, prayed  and returned  to sleep. He saw the selfsame dream a second and a third time. In the morning  he arose and went in search of Beshr.
“He is at a wine-party,” he was told.
He went to the house where Beshr was. “Was Beshr here?” he enquired.
“He  was,”  they  said.  “But  he  is drunk  and  inca- pable.”
“Tell him I have a message for him,” said the saint. “A message from whom?”  demanded Beshr when he
was told.
“A message from God,”  replied the saint.
“Alas!”  cried  Beshr,  bursting  into  tears.  “Is  it  a message of chiding or of chastisement? Wait, till I tell my friends. Friends,”  he addressed  his drinking-com- panions,  “I  have  had  a  call.  I  am  going.  I bid  you farewell.  You  will  never  see me  again  at  this  busi- ness.”
And from that  day onward  he lived so saintly, that none  heard   his  name  mentioned   without  heavenly peace  invaded  his heart.  He took  to  the  way of self- denial,  and  so overwhelmed  was he by the  vision  of God that  he never put shoes on his feet. For that  rea- son he was called Beshr the Barefoot.
“Why do you not wear shoes?” he was asked.

beshr ibn  al-hareth     93

“I was  barefooted the day when  I made  my  peace with God,”  he said, “and  ever since I am ashamed  to wear  shoes.  Moreover   God  Almighty  says,  ‘I  have made  the earth  a carpet  for you.’ It is not  seemly to tread with shoes on the carpet of kings.”
Ahmad-e  Hanbal  visited Beshr frequently,  having  a complete  faith  in him to such a point  that  his pupils protested.
“Today   you   are   without  rival   as  a   scholar  of Traditions, the law, theology and every manner  of sci- ence, yet every moment  you go after a dissolute fellow. Is that seemly?”
“Indeed,  in all the sciences you have  enumerated I have  better  knowledge   than  he,”  Ahmad-e   Hanbal replied. “But he knows God better than I.”
So he would pursue Beshr, saying, “Tell me about my
Lord.”

Anecdotes  of Beshr
“Tonight  Beshr will be your guest.”
This  conviction   entered  Beshr’s  sister’s  mind.  She swept and watered  her house, and waited expectantly for Beshr to arrive. Suddenly Beshr came like one dis- traught.
“Sister, I am going up to the roof,”  he announced. He planted  his foot on the stairs and climbed sever-
al steps, then remained  standing  like that  till the next

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day. When dawn broke,  he descended.  He went off to pray in the mosque.
“What  was the reason  you stood  all night?”  asked his sister when he returned.
“The   thought  entered   my  mind,”   Beshr   replied, “that   in  Baghdad  there  are  so  many  people  whose names are Beshr— one a Jew, one  a Christian, one a Magian.  My name too is Beshr, and I have attained  the great felicity of being a Muslim.
What, I asked myself, did the others do to be exclud- ed,   and   what   did   I  do   to  attain   such   felicity? Bewildered  by this thought, I  remained  rooted  to the spot.”

Beshr  possessed   seven  bookcases   of   volumes  on Traditions. He buried them all in the ground,  and did not transmit  them.
“The   reason   I  do  not   transmit   Traditions,”  he explained,  “is that I perceive in myself a lust to do so. If I perceive in my heart  a lust to keep silence, then I will transmit.”

For a space of forty years Beshr longed for roast meat but had not the money to buy any. For many years his heart  yearned  for  beans,  but  he  ate  none.  He  never drank water from streams dug out by the authorities.

beshr ibn  al-hareth     95

One  of the  Saints  relates,  “I  was  with  Beshr  once when the weather was extremely cold. I saw him naked and trembling.  ‘Abu Nasr’I said, ‘in such weather  peo- ple  put  on  extra  clothing.  You  have  taken  off  your clothes.’ ‘Yes,’ Beshr replied, ‘I remembered  the poor. I had no money with which to succour them, so I want- ed to share with them physically.’”

Ahmad ibn Ebrahim  tells the following story.
“Tell Ma’ruf,” Beshr said to me, “that  I will call on him after I have said my prayer.”
I delivered  the  message,  and  we waited  together. We performed  the midday prayer,  and Beshr did not come.  We  performed   the  afternoon prayer,  and  he did not come. We performed  the prayer before sleep- ing.
“Glory  be to God,”  I said to myself, “does a man like Beshr break  his word?  This is extraordinary.”
I kept  on the lookout, we being at the door  of  the mosque.  Presently  Beshr came  along  with his prayer rug  under  his  arm.  When  he  reached  the  Tigris  he walked on the water and so came to us. He and Ma’ruf talked till dawn, then he returned  walking on the water again. Flinging myself down from the roof, I hurried to him and kissed his hands and feet.
“Pray for me,” I implored  him.

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Beshr prayed.  Then he said, “Reveal  what you have seen to no man.”
So long as he was alive, I told no one.

A  crowd  was  gathered  around  Beshr,  and  he  was preaching on the theme  of satisfaction. One  of those present interrupted him.
“Abu Nasr, you accept nothing  from any creature in order  to attain  prominence. If you are sincere in your self-denial  and  have  truly  turned  your  face from  this world,  then take offerings from other men so that you may lose your prominence  in people’s eyes. Give to the poor  what you receive, but give in secret; then be unwavering  in trusting  in God, and obtain  your provi- sion from the world unseen.”
These words made a powerful  impression  on Beshr’s followers.  Beshr answered  as follows.
“Attend  now! The poor are divided into three class- es. One class consists of those who never ask for any- thing, and if they are given anything they yet decline to accept  it. These people  are  the spiritualists; for when they  ask  aught  from  God,  God  gives them  whatever  they desire, and if they adjure God their need is at once granted.  The second  class are those  who  do not  ask, but if they are given anything  they accept it. These are the middling  folk;  they  are  constant in their  trust  in God,  and  they are those  who  shall sit  at  the table  of

beshr ibn  al-hareth     97

Paradise.   The   third   class  are   those   who   sit   with patience; as far as they can they observe their moment,  and repel outward enticements.”
“I am satisfied with this statement,” the interrupter said. “May  God be satisfied with you!”

A throng  of people came to Beshr.
“We have  come  from  Syria,  and  are  going  on  the pilgrimage,” they said. “Do you feel inclined to accom- pany us?”
“On three conditions,” Beshr replied. “First, we will take nothing  with us; second, we will not ask for any- thing; third, if we are given anything we will not accept it.”
“Not  to ask for anything  and not to take anything with us— that we are able to concede,” they answered.  “But  if an offering  comes  along,  we cannot  not  take it.”
“You   have   put   your   faith   not   in  God,”   Beshr rebuked  them, “but  in your pilgrims’ provisions.”

A man once came to consult Beshr’s advice.
“I have two  thousand dirhams  lawfully  acquired. I
wish to go on the pilgrimage.”
“You want to walk for your own amusement,” Beshr replied. “If you are really intent on pleasing God, then go and  pay someone’s  debt,  or give  the money  to an

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orphan,  or someone  in poor  circumstances. The  ease thus  given to a Muslim’s  heart  is more  acceptable  to God than a hundred  pilgrimages.”
“I put prior the desire to make the pilgrimage,” the man said.
“That  is because you have obtained  these moneys by means  that  are  not  good,”  Beshr  commented. “You will  never  find  rest  until  you  have  spent  them  in improper  ways.”

Beshr related as follows.
Once I saw the Prophet  in a dream.  He said to me, “Beshr,  do  you  not  know  why  God  has  chosen  you from amongst  your contemporaries and has raised you up to high rank?”
“No,  Messenger of God,”  I replied.
“It is because you have followed my Sunna, and rev- erenced the righteous,  and given good counsel to your brethren, and  loved me and  the  people  of my house- hold,”  the Prophet  told me. “For  this reason God has advanced  you to the station  of the pious.”

Beshr also told the following story.
One  night  I saw Ali in a dream.  I said,  “Give  me counsel.”
“How  good  a thing,”  said Ali, “is the  compassion shown  by the rich to the poor  for the sake of seeking

beshr ibn  al-hareth     99

the reward of the All-merciful. Better still is the disdain shown  by the poor  towards  the rich relying upon  the munificence of the Creator  of the world.”

Beshr lay on his deathbed. A man entered and com- plained  of the tight-fistedness  of fate. Beshr gave him his shirt and put on a borrowed shirt, and in that shirt set out into the world beyond.

It is recorded  that  so long  as Beshr  was  alive, no mule dropped  its dung in the streets of Baghdad out of reverence for him, because he walked barefooted. One night  a man  with  a  mule  observed  his beast  drop  its dung in the road.
“Ah, Beshr the Barefoot is no more,”  he exclaimed. Enquiry  was made,  and so it proved. The man was
asked how he knew.
“Because so long as he was alive, on all the streets of Baghdad no mule-dung  was to be seen. I observed that the rule had been broken,  and so knew that Beshr was no more.”




Dho ‘l-Nun al-Mesri

Abu   ‘l-Faiz  Thauban  ibn   Ebrahim   al-Mesri, called Dho ‘l-Nun, was born at Ekhmim in Upper Egypt c. 180 (796),  studied  under  various  teach- ers and travelled extensively in Arabia and Syria. In  214  (829)  he  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of heresy and sent to Baghdad  to prison,  but  after examination  he  was   released   on  the  caliph’s orders  to return  to Cairo,  where he died in 246 (861);  his tombstone has been preserved.  A leg- endary figure as alchemist and thaumaturge, he is supposed   to  have   known   the   secret   of  the Egyptian  hieroglyphs.  A number  of poems  and short treatises are attributed to him, but these are for the most part apocryphal.

Dho ‘I-Nun  the Egyptian  and how he was converted
Dho ‘l-Nun the Egyptian told the following story of his conversion.
I was informed  that in a certain place an ascetic was living. I set forth to visit him, and found him suspend- ing himself from a tree.
“O body,”  he was saying, “assist  me to obey God, else I will keep you hanging  like this until you die of hunger.”

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A fit of weeping overcame me. The devotee heard me crying.
“Who is this,” he called, “who has compassion upon one whose shame is little and whose crimes are many?”
I approached him and gave him greeting. “What is this state of affairs?”  I asked.
“This body of mine gives me no peace to obey God,”
he replied. “It wants to mingle with other men.”
I supposed that he must have shed a Muslim’s blood,  or committed  some other deadly sin.
“Did you not realize,”  the ascetic said to me, “that once you mingle  with  other  men,  everything  else fol- lows?”
“What  a tremendous ascetic you are!” I cried. “Would  you like to see someone  more  ascetic  than
I?” he said
“I would,” I said.
“Go  into  yonder  mountain,” he  said.  “There  you will see.’
I proceeded  thither,  and saw a young man squatting in a hermitage; one foot had been amputated and flung out  of  the  cell, and  the  worms  were  devouring  it.  I approached him and saluted him, then I enquired  after his circumstances.
“One  day,”  he told  me, “I was  seated  in this  her- mitage when a woman  happened  to pass by. My heart inclined towards  her and my body demanded  of me to

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     103

go after her. I put one foot out of the cell, then I heard a  voice saying,  “Are  you  not  ashamed,  after  serving and  obeying  God  for  thirty  years,  an now  you  obey Satan and chase a loose woman?” So I cut off the foot that I had set outside the hermitage,  and now I sit here waiting for what  will transpire  and what  they will do with me. What  business has brought  you to such sin- ners? If you desire to see a man of God, proceed to the top of this mountain.”
The mountain was too high for me to reach the top, so I enquired  about  this man.
“Yes,” I was told. “It is a long time now that a man has been serving God in that cell. One day a man came along  and disputed  with  him, saying  that  daily bread was  meant  for  earning.  The  devotee  vowed  that  he would  eat  nothing   that  involved  the  acquisition   of material  possessions.  For  many  days  he ate  nothing. Then  Almighty  God  sent  a  cloud  of  bees  to  hover around  him and give him honey.”
The  things  I had  seen and  the  words  I had  heard caused a mighty pain to clutch my heart. I realized that whoever  puts his trust in God, God cares for him and suffers not his anguish to be in vain. As I went on my way, I saw a blind little bird perched  in a tree. It flut- tered down from the tree.
“Where   will  this  helpless  creature   get  food  and water?”  I cried.

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The bird dug the earth with its beak and two saucers appeared, one of gold containing  grain and the other of silver full of rosewater. The bird ate its fill, then it flew up into the tree and the saucers vanished.
Utterly  dumbfounded,  Dho  ‘l-Nun  thenceforward put his trust in God completely, and was truly convert- ed. He pushed on several stages, and when night fell he came to a desert. In that desert he sighted a jar of gold and jewels, and on the top of the jar a tablet on which was written the name of God. His companions divided the gold and the jewels between them.
“Give me the tablet on which is written the name of my Friend,”  Dho ‘l-Nun cried.
And  he  took  the  tablet.   He  kissed  the  tablet  all through  the day and  night,  till by the  blessing of the tablet  he so progressed  that  one  night  he dreamed  a voice said to him, “All the rest chose the gold and jew- els, for they are precious.  You chose what  was loftier than  that, my Name.  Therefore  I have opened  to you the door of knowledge  and wisdom.”
Dho ‘l-Nun then returned  to the city. His story con- tinues.
I was walking  one day when I reached  the margin of a river. By the water  I saw a pavilion. I proceeded to make  my ablutions, and  when  I  had  finished  my eye suddenly  fell on the roof of the pavilion.  On the balcony  I saw a very beautiful  girl standing.  Wanting

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     105

to  prove  her,  I  said,  “Maiden,  to  whom  do  you belong?”
“Dho  ‘l-Nun,”   replied  she,  “when   you  appeared from afar I supposed  you were a madman. When you came nearer, I supposed  you were a scholar. When you came still nearer,  I supposed  you were a mystic. Now I see you are neither mad, nor a scholar, nor a mystic.”
“Why do you say that?”  I demanded.
“If  you  had  been  a  madman,”  she  replied,  “you would not have made your ablutions. If you had been a scholar,  you would  not have gazed at that  which is prohibited you.  If you  had been  a  mystic,  your  eye would have fallen upon naught  but God. “
So saying, she vanished.  I then realized that she was not a mortal  creature,  but had been sent as a warning.  A fire invaded my soul, and I flung myself in the direc- tion of the sea.
When  I reached  the seashore,  I saw a  company of men embarked  in a ship. I also embarked  in that ship. After some days had passed, by chance a jewel belong- ing to a merchant was

lost on board.  One by one the passengers were taken and searched. Finally they reached the unanimous con- clusion  that  the  jewel  was  on  me.  They  set  about  belabouring me and treated  me with  great  disrespect,  whilst I remained silent. At last I could endure no more.

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“O Creator,  Thou knowest,” I cried.
Thousands of fishes thereupon put their heads out of the water,  each with a jewel in its mouth.
Dho ‘l-Nun took one of the jewels and gave it to the merchant. All on board  when they saw this fell at his feet and begged his pardon. So highly was he consid- ered in the eyes of men. That was why he was called Dho ‘l-Nun (“The Man of the Fish”).

Dho ‘I-Nun  is arrested and taken to Baghdad When Dho ‘l-Nun had already attained  a high degree, no  one  recognized  his  true  greatness.  The  people  of Egypt  denounced  him  unanimously as a heretic,  and informed   the   caliph   Motawakkel  of  his  activities. Motawakkel sent officers to convey him to Baghdad in fetters. When he entered the caliph’s court he declared,  “This very hour I have learned true Islam from an old woman,  and true chivalry from a water-carrier.”
“How is that?”  he was asked.
“When  I reached  the  caliph’s  palace,”  he  replied, “and beheld that court in all its magnificence, with the chamberlains and  attendants thronging  its passages,  I wished  that  some  change  might  take  place  in  my appearance. A woman with a stick in her hand came up and, looking straight  at me, addressed me.
“‘Do not be afraid of the body before whom they are taking you,  for he and  you are both  servants  of one

dho ’l-nun al-mesri    107

Almighty Lord. Unless God wills it, they can do noth- ing to His servant.’
“Then on the road I saw a water-carrier. He gave me a draught of pure water. I made a sign to one who was with me to give the man a dinar. He refused to take it. “‘You are a prisoner and in bonds,’ he said. ‘It would not be true chivalry to take anything  from such a pris-
oner, a stranger  in bonds.’ “
After that  it was  ordered  that  he should  be  put  in prison. Forty days and nights he remained in gaol, and every day the sister of Beshr the Barefoot brought  him a loaf,  the earnings  of her  spindle.  The day when  he came out  of prison,  the forty  loaves remained  intact, not one having been eaten. When Beshr’s sister heard of this, she became very sad.
“You know that  those loaves were lawful food and unsolicited.  Why did you not eat them?” she protested. “Because  the  plate  was  not  clean,”  Dho  ‘l-Nun replied, meaning that it had been handled  by the gaol-
er.
As Dho ‘l-Nun came out of the prison  he stumbled  and  cut  his  forehead.   It  is related  that  much  blood flowed, but not one drop fell on his face, his hair or his clothes, and all the blood that  fell on the ground  van- ished at once, by the command  of Almighty God.
Then they brought  him before the caliph, and he was ordered  to answer  the charges  preferred  against  him.

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He  explained   his  doctrine   in  such  a  manner   that Motawakkel  burst   into  tears,  and  all  his  ministers stood in wonder at his eloquence. So the caliph became his disciple, and accorded  him high honour.

Dho ‘I-Nan and the pious disciple
There  was  a  disciple  of  Dho  ‘l-Nun  who  had  forty times observed the forty days’ seclusion, forty times he had  stood  at Arafat,  and  for forty  years he had  kept vigil by night. Forty long years he had sat sentinel over the chamber  of his heart. One day he came to Dho ‘l- Nun.
‘`I have done all this,”  he said. “For  all that  I have suffered,  the  Friend  speaks  not  one  word  to me nor favours  me with a single glance. He takes no account  of  me,  and  reveals  nothing  to  me  from  the  unseen world. All this I say not in order to praise myself. I am simply stating the facts. I have performed  all that  was in the  power  of me,  poor  wretch,  to do.  I make  no complaint against  God. I simply state the facts, that  I devote  my whole  heart  and soul to His  service. But I am telling the story of the sadness of my evil luck, the tale  of my misfortune. I do  not  say this  because  my heart has grown weary of obedience. Only I fear that if further  life  remains  ahead  of me, it will be the same. For a whole lifetime I have knocked in hope, but I have heard  no response.  Now  it is grown  hard  for  me to

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     109

endure  this any longer.  Since you are the physician of the afflicted and the sovereign prescriber  of the sages, minister now to my wretchedness.”
“Go and eat your fill tonight,” advised Dho ‘l-Nun. “Omit  the prayer before sleep, and slumber the whole night through. So it may be that  if the Friend will not show  Himself  kindly,  He  will at  least  show  Himself reproachful; if He will not look on you with compas- sion, He will look on you with sternness.”
The  dervish  departed   and  ate  his  fill.  His  heart would not permit him to forgo the prayer before sleep, and so he prayed the prayer and fell asleep. That night he saw the Prophet  in a dream.
“Your  Friend  greets  you,”  the  Prophet   said.  “He says, ‘An effeminate wretch and no true man is he who comes to My court and is quickly sated. The root of the matter  is uprightness  of life, and  no reproaches. God Almighty declares, I have given your heart its desire of forty years, and I grant you to attain all that you hope for, and fulfill all your desire. But convey My greetings to that  bandit  and pretender  Dho ‘I-Nun. Say then to him, Pretender  and liar, if I do not expose your shame before all the city, then  I am not  your  Lord.  See that you no more beguile the hapless lovers of My court and scare them not away from My court.’ “
The disciple awoke,  and was overcome by weeping. He went  and told  Dho  ‘l-Nun  what  he  had seen and

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heard. When Dho ‘l-Nun heard the words, “God sends you greeting and declares you a pretender and a liar”, he rolled over and over with joy and wept ecstatically.

Anecdotes  of Dho ‘l-Nan
Dho ‘l-Nun relates as follows.
I was wandering  in the mountains when I observed a party of afflicted folk gathered together.
“What  befell you?” I asked.
“There   is  a  devotee  living  in  a  cell  here,”  they answered.  “Once every year he comes out and breathes  on these people and they are all healed. Then he returns to his cell, and does not emerge again until the follow- ing year.”
I waited patiently  until he came out. I beheld a man pale of cheek, wasted  and with sunken eyes. The awe of him caused me to tremble.  He looked on the multi- tude with compassion. Then he raised his eyes to heav- en, and breathed  several times over the afflicted ones. All were healed.
As he was about to retire to his cell, I seized his skirt. “For the love of God,” I cried. “You have healed the
outward  sickness; pray heal the inward  sickness.” “Dho  ‘l-Nun,”  he  said,  gazing  at  me,  “take  your
hand from  me. The Friend is watching from the zenith of might and majesty. If He sees you clutching at anoth-

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     111

er than  He, He will abandon you to that  person, and that  person  to  you,  and  you  will  perish  each  at  the other’s hand.”
So saying, he withdrew  into his cell.

One day Dho ‘l-Nun’s companions came to him and found him weeping.
“Why are you weeping?”  they asked.
“Last  night  when  I was  prostrating in  prayer,”  he replied, “my eyes closed in sleep. I saw the Lord, and He said to me, ‘O Abu  ‘l-Faiz, I created  all creatures and they separated into ten parts.  I offered the materi- al world  to them; nine of those ten parts  turned  their faces  to the material  world.  One  part  remained  over. That  one  part  divided  also  into  ten  parts.  I  offered Paradise   to  them;  nine  parts   turned  their  faces  to Paradise.  One part  remained  over. That  one part  split likewise into ten parts.  I brought  Hell before them; all fled and were scattered  for fear of Hell. Only one part remained  over,  those  who  had  not  been lured  by the material   world,   nor  inclined  after  Paradise,  neither were afraid of Hell. I said to them, “My servants,  you looked  not upon  the material world, you inclined not after  Paradise,  you were  not  afraid  of Hell.  What  do you  seek?”  All  raised  their  heads  and  cried,  “Thou knowest best what we desire.”

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One day a boy approached Dho ‘l-Nun and said, “I have  a  hundred   thousand  dinars.  I  want  to  spend them in your service. I wish to use that  gold on your dervishes.”
“Are you of age?” Dho ‘l-Nun asked him. “No,” he replied.
“Then  you are not entitled to expend,” Dho ‘l-Nun told him. “Wait with patience until you are of age.”
When  the boy came  of age he returned  to  Dho  ‘l- Nun and repented  at his hands.  Then he gave all that gold  to  the  dervishes,  until  nothing  remained  of the hundred  thousand dinars.
One day an emergency arose, and nothing remained  to the dervishes, for they had spent all the money.
“What  a pity there is not another  hundred thousand, so that  I could  spend  it on these fine  men,”  said the benefactor.
When Dho ‘l-Nun heard him speak these words, he realized  that  he  had  not  yet  penetrated to  the  inner truth  of the mystic life, for worldly  things still seemed important to him. He summoned  the young man.
“Go  to the  shop  of such-and-such a  druggist,”  he instructed  him.  “Tell him from  me  to give you three dirhams’ worth  of such-and-such a medicine.”
The  youth  went  to  the  druggist’s,  and  presently returned.
“Put the stuff in the mortar  and pound  it up small,” Dho ‘l-Nun ordered him. “Then pour on top of it a lit-

dho ’l-nun al-mesri    113

tle oil, until it becomes a paste. Make three pellets of it, and pierce each with a needle. Then bring them to me.” The   youth   carried   out   these   instructions,  and brought   the  pellets.  Dho  ‘l-Nun  rubbed  them  in his hands  and  breathed  on  them,  and  they  turned  into
three rubies the like of which was never seen.
“Now  take these to the market  and have them val- ued,” ordered  Dho ‘l-Nun. “But do not sell them.”
The  youth  took  the  rubies  to the  market  and  dis- played  them.   Each  one  was  priced  at  a  thousand dinars.  He returned  and told Dho ‘l-Nun.
“Now put them in the mortar  and pound  them, and throw them into water,”  the latter directed.
The youth  did as instructed, and threw the powder  into water.
“My  child,”  said Dho  ‘l-Nun,  “these  dervishes  are not hungry for lack of bread. This is their free choice.” The youth repented,  and his soul awoke. The world
had no longer any worth  in his eyes.

Dho ‘l-Nun related as follows.
For thirty years I called men to repent,  but only one person came to the court of God in due obedience. The circumstances were these.
One day a prince with his retinue  passed by me by the door of the mosque.  I spoke these words.
“No one is more foolish than the weakling who tan- gles with the strong.”

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“What  words are these?” demanded  the prince. “Man  is a weakling,  yet he tangles with God who is
strong,”  I said.
The young prince grew pale. He arose and departed. Next day he returned.
“What  is the way to God?”  he asked.
“There  is a little way, and there is a greater way,” I answered.  “Which  of  the  two  do  you  want?  If you desire the little way, abandon the world and the lusts of the flesh and give up sinning. If you want the great way, abandon everything but God, and empty your heart of all things.”
“By Allah, I will choose only the greater  way,” said the prince.
The  next  day  he  put  on  the  woollen   robe,  and entered  the  mystic  way.  In  due  course  he  became  a saint.
The following story was told by Abu Ja’far the One- eyed.
I was with Dho ‘l-Nun when a group of his follow- ers were present. They were telling stories of inanimate things obeying commands. Now there was a sofa in the room.
“An   example,”  said  Dho   ‘l-Nun,   “of   inanimate things obeying saints’ commands would be if I were to say to that sofa there, ‘Waltz around  the house’ and it started to move.”

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     115

No sooner had Dho ‘l-Nun spoken these words than the  sofa  started   to  circle  round   the  house,  then  it returned to its place. A youth present burst into tears at the sight, and gave up the ghost. They washed his body on that very sofa, and buried him.
Once  a man  came  up  to Dho  ‘l-Nun  and  said,  “I
have a debt, and I have no means of paying it.”
Dho ‘l-Nun picked up a stone from the ground and gave it to him. The man took the stone to the bazaar.  It had turned  into  an emerald.  He sold it  for four  hun- dred dirhams  and paid his debt.
A certain  youth  was always  speaking  against  Sufis. One  day Dho  ‘l-Nun  took  the ring off his  finger and handed  it to him.
“Take  this to market  and  pawn  it for a  dinar,”  he said.
The young  man  took  the ring  to market,  but  they would not take it for more than one dirham. The youth returned  with the news.
“Now  take  it  to  the  jewellers,  and  see what  they value it at,” Dho ‘l-Nun told him.
The jewellers priced the ring at a thousand dinars. “You know as much about  Sufis,” Dho ‘l-Nun said
to the youth when he returned, “as those stallholders  in the market  know about  this ring.”
The youth repented,  and disbelieved in the Sufis no more.

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Dho  ‘l-Nun  had  been  longing  for  sekbaj  for  ten years, but he never gratified that  longing. Now it was the eve of festival, and his soul said within him, “How would it be if tomorrow you gave us a mouthful of sek- baj as a festival treat?”
“Soul,”  answered  Dho  ‘l-Nun,  “if you want  me to do that,  then consent  with me tonight  in chanting  the whole Koran in the course of two rak’as.”
His soul consented.  The next  day Dho  ‘l-Nun  pre- pared sekbaj and set it before his soul. He washed his fingers and stood in prayer.
“What  happened?” he was asked.
“Just  now,”  Dho  ‘l-Nun  replied,  “my  soul  said  to me, ‘At last after ten years I have attained my desire.’
‘By God,’ I answered,  ‘you shall not attain that desire.’

The relater  of this story states that  Dho ‘l-Nun had just spoken these words when a man entered and set a bowl of sekbaj before him.
“Master,” he said, “I did not come on my own. I was sent. Let me explain.  I earn my living as a porter,  and I have children.  For some time now they have been ask- ing for sekbaj, and I have been saving up. Last night I made  this  sekbaj  for  the  festival.  Today  I saw  in  a dream the world-adorning beauty of the Messenger  of God. ‘If you would see me on the morrow  of uprising,’ said the Prophet,  ‘take this to Dho ‘l-Nun and tell him

dho ’l-nun al-mesri     117

that Mohammad, the son of Abd Allah, the son of Abd al-Mottaleb, intercedes  with  him to make  truce  with his soul  for one moment  and  swallow  a few mouth-  fuls.’ “
“I obey,” said Dho ‘l-Nun, weeping.

As Dho ‘l-Nun lay on his deathbed  his friends asked him, “What do you desire?”
“My desire,”  he answered,  “is that ere I die, even if it be for only one moment,  I may know Him.”
He then spoke the following verses.
Fear wasted  me, Yearning consumed me, Love beguiled me,
God  revived me.
One day later he lost consciousness.  On the night of his departure from this world, seventy persons saw the Prophet in a dream. All reported that the Prophet  said, “The friend of God is coming. I have come out to wel- come him.”
When he died, there was seen written in green on his brow, “This is the friend of God. He died in the love of God. This is the slain of God by the sword of God.”
When they lifted his coffin to carry him to the grave the sun was extremely  hot.  The birds of the air came and with wings flapping kept his bier shaded from his house to the graveside.

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As he was  being  borne  along  the  road,  a  muezzin chanted  the call to prayer.  When he reached the words of  attestation, Dho  ‘l-Nun  lifted  a  finger  out  of  the shroud.
“He is alive!” the shout went up.
They laid down the bier. His finger was pointing, but he was  dead.  For  all that  they  tried,  they  could  not straighten  his finger. When the people of Egypt beheld this,  they were all  put  to shame  and  repented  of the wrongs  they  had  done  him.  They did things  over his dust that cannot  be described in words.


Abu Yazid al-Bestami

Abu Yazid Taifur ibn ‘Isa ibn Sorushan al-Bestami was born  in Bestam in north-eastern Persia,  the grandson  of  a  Zoroastrian;  there   he  died  in
261(874)  or  264(877), and  his mausoleum  still stands.  The founder  of the ecstatic  (“drunken”) school of Sufism, he is famous for the boldness of his expression  of the  mystic’s complete  absorp- tion into the Godhead. In particular  his descrip- tion of a journey into Heaven (in imitation  of the Prophet Mohammad’s “ascension”), greatly elab- orated by later writers, exercised a powerful influence  on  the  imagination of  all  who  came after him.

Abu Yazid-e Bestami: birth and early years
The   grandfather  of  Abu   Yazid-e   Bestami   was  a Zoroastrian; his father  was one of the leading citizens of  Bestam.  Abu  Yazid’s  extraordinary  career  began from the time he was in his mother’s womb.
“Every time I put a doubtful  morsel in my mouth,” his mother  would  say, “you  stirred  in  my womb  and would  not  keep  still  until  I  had  put  it  out  of  my mouth.”
This  statement   is  confirmed  by  words  spoken  by
Abu Yazid himself.

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“What  is best for a man on this path?”  he was asked. “Congenital felicity,” he replied.
“And if that is missing?” “A strong body.”
“And if that is lacking?”  “An attentive ear.”
“And without that?” “A knowing heart.” “And without that?” “A seeing eye.”
“And without that?” “Sudden death.”
In  due  course  his  mother  sent  him  to  school.  He learned the Koran, and one day his master was explain- ing the meaning of the verse in the Sura of Loqman,  Be thankful  to  Me,  and  to  thy  parents.   These  words moved the heart of Abu Yazid.
“Sir,”  he said,  laying down  his tablet,  “please  give me permission  to go home  and  say  something  to my mother.”
The  master  gave  him  leave,  and  Abu  Yazid  went home.
“Why,  Taifur,”  cried  his  mother,   “why  have  you come home? Did they give you a present,  or is it some special occasion?”
“No,”  Abu Yazid replied. “I reached the verse where
God commands  me to serve Him and you. I cannot be

abu  yazid al-bestami     121

manager in two houses at once. This verse stung me to the quick.  Either  you ask for me from God, so that  I may be yours entirely, or apprentice me to God, so that I may dwell wholly with Him.”
“My son, I resign you to God, and exempt you from your duty to me,” said his mother.  “Go and be God’s.” “The task I supposed to be the hindmost of all tasks proved to be the foremost,” Abu Yazid later recalled. “That  was to please my mother.  In pleasing my moth- er, I attained  all that I sought in my many acts of self- discipline and service. It fell out as follows. One night my   mother   asked   me  for  water.   I  went   to  fetch her some, but there was none in the jug. I fetched the pitcher,  but  none  was  in  it  either.  So I went  down to the river  and  filled the  pitcher  with  water.  When I  returned   to   the   house,   my  mother   had   fallen
asleep.
“The  night  was  cold.  I kept  the  jug  in my  hand. When  my mother  awoke  from  sleep she  drank  some water  and  blessed me. Then  she  noticed  that  the jug was frozen to my hand. ‘Why did you not lay the jug aside?’  she  exclaimed.  ‘I was  afraid  that  you  might wake  when  I was not  present,’  I answered.  ‘Keep the door half-open,’ my mother  then said.
“I  watched  till near  daybreak  to make  sure  if  the door was properly  half-open  or not, and that I should not  have  disregarded   her  command.  At  the  hour  of

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dawn,  that  which I had sought  so many times entered by the door.”
After his mother resigned him to God, Abu Yazid left Bestam  and  for  thirty  years  wandered   from  land  to land,  disciplining  himself  with  continuous  vigil  and hunger.  He attended  one hundred  and thirteen  spiritu- al   preceptors  and   derived   benefit   from   them   all. Amongst them was one called Sadiq. He was sitting at his feet  when  the master  suddenly  said,  “Abu  Yazid, fetch me that book from the window.”
“The window?  Which window?” asked Abu Yazid. “Why,” said the master, “you have been coming here
all this time, and you have not seen the window?” “No,” replied Abu Yazid. “What have I to do with
the; window?  When I am before you, I close my eyes to everything  else. I have not come to stare about.”
“Since  that  is  so,”  said  the  teacher,  “go  back  to
Bestam. Your work is completed.”
It was hinted to Abu Yazid that  in a certain place a great teacher  was to be found.  He came from afar to see him. As he approached, he saw the reputed teacher spit in the direction  of Mecca. He at once retraced  his steps.
“If he had achieved anything  at all in the way,” he remarked, “he would  never have been guilty of trans- gressing the Law.”‘

abu  yazid al-bestami     123

In this connection  it is stated that his house was forty paces from the mosque,  and he never spat on the road out of respect for the mosque.
It took  Abu Yazid a full twelve  years  to  reach  the Kaaba. This was because at every oratory he passed he would  throw  down  his  prayer  rug  and  perform  two rak’as.
“This  is  not  the  portico  of  an  earthly  king,”  he would say, “that  one may run thither  all at once.”
So at last he came to the Kaaba, but that year he did not got to Medina.
“It would not be seemly to make that an appendage  of this visitation,” he explained.  “I will put on pilgrim robes for Medina  separately.”
Next  year he returned  once more,  donning  the  pil- grim garb separately  at the beginning of the desert. In one town he passed through  on the way a great throng  became his followers, and as he left a crowd went in his wake.
“Who are those men?” he demanded, looking back. “They wish to keep you company,”  came the answer. “Lord God!”  Abu Yazid cried, “I beg of Thee, veil
not Thy creatures  from Thee through  me!”
Then,  desiring  to expel  the love of him from  their hearts and to remove the obstacle of himself from their path,  having performed  the dawn prayer  he looked  at

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them and said, “Verily  I am God; there is no god but I;
therefore serve Me.”
“The  man  has become  mad!”  they cried.  And  they left him and departed.
Abu Yazid went on his way. He found on the road a skull on which  was written,  Deaf, dumb, blind—they do not understand.
Picking up the skull with a cry, he kissed it.
“This  seems to be the head,”  he murmured,  “of  a Sufi annihilated in God—he has no ear to hear the eter- nal  voice,  no  eye  to  behold  the  eternal  beauty,  no tongue  to praise God’s greatness,  no reason  to under- stand so much as a mote of the true knowledge of God. This verse is about  him.”

Once  Abu  Yazid was  going  along  the  road  with  a camel on which he had slung his provisions and saddle. “Poor  little camel, what a heavy load it is carrying,”
someone cried. “It is really cruel.”
Abu Yazid, having heard  him say these words over and over, at last replied.
“Young  man,  it is not  the little camel that  lifts  the load.”
The man looked to see if the load was actually on the camel’s back. He observed that it was a full span above its back, and that the camel did not feel any weight at all. “Glory   be  to  God,  a  wondrous  deed!”  the  man
exclaimed.

abu  yazid al-bestami     125

“If I conceal  from you the true  facts about  myself, you  thrust   out  the  tongue  of  reproach,”  said  Abu Yazid. “If I disclose them to you, you cannot  bear the facts. What is one to do with you?”

After Abu Yazid had visited Medina,  the order came to him to return to care for his mother.  He accordingly  set out for Bestam, accompanied by a throng. The news ran  through  the city, and  the  people  of Bestam came out to welcome him a good way from the town.  Abu Yazid was likely to be so preoccupied  with their atten- tions  that  he would  be detained  from  God.  As they approached him, he drew a loaf out of his sleeve. Now it was Ramazan;  yet he stood and ate the loaf. As soon as the  people  of Bestam  saw  this,  they  turned  away from him.
“Did  you not  see?” Abu Yazid addressed  his  com- panions “I obeyed an ordinance  of the sacred Law, and all the people rejected me.”
He waited  patiently  until  nightfall.  At  midnight he entered Bestam and, coming to his mother’s  house, he stood a while listening. He heard sounds of his mother  performing  he ablutions  and praying.
“Lord God, care well for our exile. Incline the hearts of the shaikhs  towards  him, and vouchsafe him to do all things well.’
Abu Yazid wept when he heard these words. Then he knocked  on the door.

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“Who is there?”  cried his mother.  “Your exile,” he replied.
Weeping, his mother opened the door.  Her sight was dimmed.
“Taifur,” she addressed her son, “do you know what has  dimmed  my  sight?  It  is because  I  have  wept  so much being parted from you, and my back is bent dou- ble from the load of grief I have endured.”

The Ascension  of Abu Yazid
Abu Yazid related as follows.
I gazed upon God with the eye of certainty after that He  had  advanced  me to the  degree  of  independence from  all  creatures  and  illumined  me  with  His  light, revealing to me the wonders of His secrets and mani- festing to me the grandeur  of His He-ness.
Then from God I gazed upon myself, and considered  well the secrets and attributes of my self. My light was darkness  beside the light of God; my grandeur  shrank  to  very  meanness  beside  God’s  grandeur;   my  glory beside God’s glory became but vainglory. There all was purity, here all was foulness.
When I looked again, I saw my being by God’s light. I realized that my glory was of His grandeur and glory. Whatsoever  I  did,   I  was  able  to   do   through   His omnipotence. Whatever  the  eye of my physical  body perceived,  it perceived through  Him.  I gazed with the

abu  yazid al-bestami     127

eye of justice  and  reality;  all  my worship  proceeded from God, not from me, and I had supposed that it was I who worshipped Him.
I said, “Lord God, what is this?”
He said, “All that I am, and none other than I.” Then He stitched up my eye, not to be the means of
seeing and so that  I might not see, and He instructed the gaze of my eye in the root of the matter, the He-ness of Himself. He annihilated me from my own being, and made  me to be  everlasting  through  His own  everlast- ingness, and He glorified  me. He disclosed to me His own Selfhood, unjostled by my own existence. So God, the one Truth,  increased  in me reality. Through  God I gazed on God, and I beheld God in reality.
There I dwelt a while, and found  repose.  I stopped  up the ear of striving; I withdrew  the tongue of yearn- ing  into  the  throat   of  disappointment.  I abandoned acquired  knowledge,  and removed  the interference  of the soul that  bids to evil. I remained  still for a space, without any instrument, and  with  the  hand  of God’s grace  I swept  superfluities  from  the  pathway  of root principles.
God had compassion  on me. He granted  me eternal knowledge,  and  put  into  my throat  a  tongue  of His goodness.  He created  for me an  eye out  of His light, and I saw all creatures through  God. With the tongue of His goodness  I communed  with God, and from the

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knowledge  of God I acquired  knowledge,  and by His light I gazed on Him.
He said,  “O  thou  all without all with  all,  without instrument with instrument!”
I said, “Lord God, let me not be deluded by this. Let me not become self-satisfied with my own being, not to yearn for Thee. Better it is that Thou shouldst  be mine without me,  than  that  I  should  be my own  without Thee. Better it is that I should  speak to Thee through Thee,  than  that   I  should   speak  to  myself  without Thee.”
He said, “Now  give ear to the Law, and transgress  not My commands  and forbiddings, that  thy strivings may earn Our thanks.”
I said, “Insomuch as I profess the faith and my heart firmly believes, if Thou  givest thanks,  it is better  that Thou  shouldst  thank  Thyself  rather  than  Thy  slave; and if Thou blamest,  Thou art pure of all fault.”
He said, “From whom didst thou learn?”
I said, “He who asks this question knows better than he who  is asked;  for He is both  the  Desired and  the Desirer, the Answered and the Answerer.”
When  He  had  perceived  the  purity  of  my  inmost soul, then my soul heard a shout of God’s satisfaction; He sealed me with His good pleasure. He illumined me, and delivered me out of the darkness  of the carnal soul

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and  the  foulnesses  of the  fleshly nature.  I knew  that through  Him I lived; and  of His bounty  I  spread  the carpet of gladness in my heart.
He said, “Ask whatsoever  thou wilt.”
I said, “I wish for Thee, for Thou art more excellent than bounty,  greater than generosity, and through  Thee I have found  content  in Thee. Since Thou  art mine, I have  rolled  up  the  scroll  of  bounty  and  generosity. Keep me not from Thee, and proffer not before me that which is inferior to Thee.”
For a while He did not answer me. Then, laying the crown of munificence on my head, He spoke.
“Truth  thou  speakest,  and  reality  thou  seekest,  in that thou hast seen the truth and heard the truth.”
I said, “If I have seen, through  Thee I have seen, and if I have heard,  through  Thee I have heard. First Thou heardest,  then I heard.”
And  I uttered  many  praises  to Him.  Consequently He gave me wings of majesty, so that I flew in the are- nas of His glory and beheld the wonders  of His handi- work.   Perceiving  my  weakness  and  recognizing  my need, He strengthened me with His own strength  and arrayed  me with His own adornment.
He laid the crown  of munificence  on my head, and opened unto me the door of the palace of Unity. When He perceived that my attributes were annihilated in His

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attributes, He  bestowed  on  me  a  name  of  His  own presence  and  addressed  me  with  His  own  Selfhood. Singleness became manifest; duality vanished.
He said, “Our  pleasure is that which is thy pleasure, and  thy  pleasure  is that  which  is Our  pleasure.  Thy speech  admits  no defilement,  and  none  takes  thee to task on account  of thy I-ness.”
Then He made me to taste the stab of jealousy, and revived me anew. I came forth pure from the furnace of testing. Then He spoke.
“Whose is the Kingdom?” I said, “Thine.”
He said, “Whose  is the Command?” I said, “Thine.”
He said, “Whose  is the Choice?”  I said, “Thine.”
Since these  words  were  the  very  same  as  He  had heard at the beginning of the transaction, He desired to demonstrate to me that,  had not His mercy preceded, creation  would never have found repose, and that  but for Love, Omnipotence would  have wreaked  destruc- tion  on  all  things.  He  gazed  on  me with  the  eye of Overwhelming through  the medium of Allcompelling, and once more no trace of me was visible.
In my intoxication I flung myself into every valley. I
melted my body in every crucible in the fire of jealousy.

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I galloped the steed of questing in the broad expanse of the wilderness;  no better  game I saw  than  utter  indi- gence, nothing  I discovered better than total  incapaci- ty. No  lamp  I saw  brighter  than  silence, no speech  I heard better than speechlessness. I became a dweller in the palace of silence; I clothed myself in the stomacher of fortitude, till matters reached their crux. He saw my outward and inward  parts  void  of the flaw of fleshly nature.  He opened  a  fissure  of relief in my darkened breast, and gave me a tongue of divestiture  and unity.
So now I have a tongue of everlasting grace, a heart of light divine, an eye of godly handiwork. By his suc- cour  I speak,  with  His  power  I  grasp. Since through Him I live, I shall never die.
Since I have reached  this stage, my token is eternal; my expression  everlasting;  my tongue  is the tongue  of unity, my spirit is the spirit of divestiture. Not of myself I speak, that I should be mere narrator, neither through myself do I speak, that I should be mere remembrancer. He moves my tongue according  as He wills, and in all this I am but an interpreter. In reality the speaker is He, not I.
Now, having magnified me, He spoke again. “The creatures  desire to see thee.”
I said,  “I desire  not  to see them.  If Thou  likest to bring me forth  before the creatures,  I will not oppose

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Thee. Array me in Thy Unity, that when Thy creatures see me and gaze upon Thy handiwork, they will have seen the Artificer, and I shall not be there at all.”
This desire He granted me; and He laid the crown of munificence on my head, and caused me to surpass the station  of my fleshly nature.
Then He said, “Come  before My creatures.”
I took  one step out  of the Presence.  At the  second step I fell headlong.  I heard a cry.
“Bring back My beloved,  for he cannot  be without
Me, neither knows he any path save to Me.”

Abu Yazid also related the following.
When   I  reached   Unity—and   that   was   the   first moment that I gazed upon Unity—for many years I ran in that valley on the feet of understanding; till I became a bird whose body was of Oneness, whose wings were of  Everlastingness.  I kept  flying in the  firmament  of Unconditionedness.  When  I  had  vanished  from  the things created,  I spoke.
“I have reached the Creator.”
Then I lifted up my head from the valley of Lordship. I quaffed a cup, the thirst for which I never slaked in all eternity.  Then  for thirty  thousand years  I flew in the expanse  of His  Unity,  and  for  thirty  thousand years more I flew in Divinity,  and for thirty  thousand years more I flew in Singularity. When ninety thousand years

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had come to an end,  I saw Abu Yazid,  and all  that  I
saw, all was I.
Then  I  traversed  four  thousand wildernesses,  and reached  the  end.  When  I gazed,  I saw  myself  at  the beginning of the degree of the prophets. Then for such a while I went on in that infinity, that I said,
“No  one has ever reached  higher  than  this.  Loftier than this no station  can be.”
When I looked  well, I saw that  my head was at the sole of the foot of a prophet. Then I realized that  the end of the state of the saints is but the beginning of the states of the prophets; to the end of the prophets  there is no term.
Then  my  spirit  transcended the  whole  Dominion, and Heaven and Hell were displayed to it; but it heed- ed naught  Whatever  came  before  it, that  it could  not suffer. To the soul of no prophet it reached,  without it gave  greeting.  When  it  reached   the  soul  of  God’s Chosen One, upon him be peace, there it beheld a hun- dred thousand seas of fire without end, and a thousand veils of light. Had I so much as dipped my foot in the first  of those  seas, I would  have  been consumed  and given myself over to destruction. Therefore I became so bewildered   with   awe   and   confusion,   that   naught remained of me. However I desired to be able to see but the  tent-peg  of  the  pavilion  of  Mohammad,  God’s Messenger,   I  had  not  the  boldness.   Though   I  had

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attained  to God,  I had  not  the  boldness  to  attain  to
Mohammad.
Then  Abu Yazid said,  “O God,  whatsoever  thing  I have seen, all has been I. There  is no  way for me to Thee, so long as this ‘I’ remains; there is no transcend- ing my selfhood for me What must I do?”
The  command   came,  “To  be  delivered  out  of  thy thouness,   follow   after   Our    beloved,   the   Arab Mohammad. Anoint thine eye with the dust of his foot, and continue  following after him.

Abu Yazid and Yahya-e  Mo’adh
Yahya-e  Mo’adh  wrote  a letter  to Abu Yazid  saying, “What do you say of a man who has quaffed a cup of wine, and become intoxicated from eternity  to eterni- ty?”
Abu  Yazid  replied,  “That  I know  not.  What  I  do know is this, that  here is a man who in a single night and a day drains  all the oceans of eternity  to eternity and then asks for more.”
Yahya-e Mo’adh wrote again, “I have a secret to tell you, but our rendezvous is in Paradise. There under the shadow of Tuba  I will tell it you.” And he sent along with  the letter  a loaf  saying,  “The  shaikh  must  avail himself of this,  for I kneaded  it with  water  from  the well of Zemzem.”

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In his reply Abu Yazid referred to Yahya’s secret say- ing,  “As  for  the  rendezvous  you  mention,  with  His remembrance, I enjoy even now possession of Paradise and the shade of the tree Tuba. So far as the loaf is con- cerned, however,  that  I cannot  avail  myself  of.  You stated with what water you kneaded it, but you did not mention  what seed you sowed.”
So Yahya-e  Mo’adh  conceived  a  great  yearning to visit Abu Yazid. He arrived  at the hour  of the prayer before sleeping.
“I   could   not   disturb   the   shaikh   then,”   Yahya recalled. “At the same time I could not contain  myself till morning.  So I proceeded  to the place in the desert where  they  told  me  he  was  to  be  found.  I saw  the shaikh perform  the prayer before sleeping, then till the next day he stood  on the tips of his toes. I stood  root- ed  in  amazement, and  heard  him  all  night  engaged in prayer.  When  dawn  came, he uttered  the words,  ‘I take  refuge  with  Thee  from  asking  of  Thee  this  sta- tion.’“
Yahya  then  recovering  himself  greeted  Abu  Yazid, and  enquired  of  him  what  had  befallen  him  in  the night.
“More   than  twenty  stations   were  enumerated  to me,” Abu Yazid told him. “I desire not one of these, for they are all stations  of veiling.”

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“Master, why did you not ask God for gnosis, seeing that  He is the King of kings and has said, ‘Ask what- soever you will?’“ demanded  Yahya.
“Be silent!” Abu Yazid cried. “I am jealous of myself to know Him, for I desire none but He to know Him. Where His knowledge is, what business have I to inter- vene? That indeed is His will, Yahya, only He, and no other, shall know Him.”
“By the  majesty  of God,”  Yahya  implored,  “grant me some portion  of the gift you were vouchsafed  last night.”
“If you were given the election of Adam, the holiness of Gabriel, the friendship  of Abraham, the yearning of Moses,   the   purity    of   Jesus,    and   the   love   of Mohammad,” Abu Yazid replied, “still you would not be satisfied. You would seek for more, transcending all things.  Keep  your  vision  fixed  on  high,  and  descend not; for whatever you descend into, by that you will be veiled.”

Abu Yazid and his disciple
There was a certain  ascetic who was one of the great saints of Bestam. He had his own followers and admir- ers, and at the same time he was never absent from the circle of Abu Yazid.  He listened  to all his discourses, and sat with his companions.

abu  yazid al-bestami     137

One day he remarked  to Abu Yazid, “Master, today is thirty years that I have been keeping constant fast. By night too I pray, so that  I never sleep at all. Yet I dis- cover  no trace  in myself  of  this  knowledge  of which you speak. For all that I believe in this knowledge,  and I love this preaching.”
“If for three hundred  years,”  said Abu Yazid, “you fast by day and  pray  by night,  you will  never realize one atom of this discourse.”
“Why?”  asked the disciple.
“Because  you  are  veiled  by  your  own  self,”  Abu
Yazid replied.
“What  is the remedy for this?” the man asked. “You will never accept it,” answered Abu Yazid.
“I will so,” said the man. “Tell me, so that I may do as you prescribe.”
“Very well,” said Abu Yazid. “This very hour go and shave your beard  and hair. Take off these clothes you are wearing,  and tie a loincloth  of  goat’s wool  about  your waist. Hang a bag of nuts round  your neck, then go to the marketplace. Collect all the children you can, and tell them, ‘I will give a nut to everyone who slaps me.’ Go round  all the city in the same way; especially go everywhere people know you. That is your cure.”
“Glory  be to God! There is no god but God,” cried the disciple on hearing these words.

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“If an infidel uttered that formula,  he would become a believer,” remarked Abu Yazid. “By uttering the same formula  you have become a polytheist.”
“How so?” demanded  the disciple.
“Because you counted  yourself too grand to be able to do as I have said,” replied Abu Yazid. “So you have become a polytheist.  You used this formula  to express your own importance, not to glorify God.”
“This  I cannot  do,”  the  man  protested. “Give  me other directions.”
“The   remedy   is  what   I  have  said,”   Abu   Yazid declared.
“I cannot  do it,” the man repeated.
“Did  I not  say that  you would  not  do it, that  you would never obey me?” said Abu Yazid.

Anecdotes  of Yazid
“For twelve years,”  said Abu Yazid, “I was the black- smith of my soul. I thrust  my soul into the furnace  of discipline and made it red hot in the flames of arduous endeavour, then I placed it upon the anvil of reproach and hammered  it with the hammer  of self-blame, till I had fashioned  out of my soul a mirror.  For five years I was my own  mirror,  and  I polished  that  mirror  with every  manner  of  godly  service  and  obedience.  After that  I gazed upon  my own reflection  for a year, and I saw about  my waist  an infidel girdle of  delusion  and

abu  yazid al-bestami     139

coquetry and self-regard, because I relied upon my own acts of obedience  and  approved  of my own  conduct. For  five years  further  I laboured  till  that  girdle  was snapped  and I was a Muslim anew. I looked  upon  all creatures,   and  saw  that  they  were  dead.  I said  four Allahu  akbars   over  them,  and  returning   from  their obsequies  without the  jostling  of God’s  creatures  by God’s succour I attained  to God.”

Whenever   Abu  Yazid  arrived   at  the  door   of   a mosque,  he would stand a while and weep.
“Why do you do so?” he was asked.
“I feel myself to be as a menstruating woman who is ashamed  to enter the mosque  and defile the mosque,” he replied.

On one occasion Abu Yazid set out on the journey to Hejaz,  but  no  sooner   had  he  gone  forth  when  he returned.
“You have never failed in your  purpose  before,”  it was remarked. “Why did you do so now?”
“I had just turned  my face to the road,”  he replied, “when  I  saw  a  black  man  standing  with  a  drawn sword.  ‘If you  return,  well  and  good.  If not,  I will strike your head from your body. You have left God in  Bestam,’  he  added,  ‘and  set  out  for  the  Holy House.’“

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“A man  encountered me on the road,”  Abu  Yazid recalled.
“‘Where are you going?’ he demanded. “‘On the pilgrimage,’ I replied.
“‘How much have you got?’ “‘Two hundred dirhams.’
“‘Come, give them to me,’ the man demanded. ‘I am a man with a family. Circle round me seven times. That is your pilgrimage.’
“I did so, and returned  home.”

Pir Omar  reports  that when Abu Yazid wished to go into seclusion,  in order  to worship  or to meditate,  he would  enter  his  apartment and  secure  closely  every aperture.
“I  am afraid,” he would  say,  “that  some  voice  or some noise may disturb  me.”
That of course was a pretext.

Isa-ye Bestami reports,  “I associated with the shaikh for thirteen  years, and I never heard the shaikh utter a single word. Such was his habit; he would put his head on  his  knees.  Occasionally  he would  raise  his  head, utter a sigh, and then return to his meditation.”
Sahlagi  comments  on  the  foregoing,  that  that  was how Abu Yazid behaved when he was in that state of “contraction”; otherwise,  on days when he was in the

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state  of “expansion” everyone  benefited  greatly  from his discourse.
“On one occasion,”  Sahlagi continues,  “as he was in seclusion he uttered  the words,  ‘Glory be to me! How great  is my dignity!’  When  he was  himself again,  his disciples told him that such words had proceeded from his tongue.  ‘God is your antagonist, and Abu Yazid is your  antagonist,’  he  replied.  If  I  speak  such  words again, cut me in pieces.’
“And he gave each of his disciples a knife, saying, ‘If such  words  come  to  me  again,  slay  me  with  these knives.’
“It so transpired that he spoke the same words a sec- ond  time.  His  disciples  made  to kill him.  The  whole apartment was hlled with Abu Yazid. His companions pulled bricks out of the walls and each struck  at him with his knife. The knives were as effective as if they were being struck  at water;  no blow had the slightest effect. After a while that  form shrank,  and Abu Yazid appeared  as small as a sparrow,  sitting  in the  prayer- niche. His companions entered and told him what had passed.  ‘This  is Abu  Yazid  whom  you  see now,’  he remarked. ‘That was not Abu Yazid.’”

Once Abu Yazid took a red apple into his hand and looked at it.
“This is a beautiful  apple,”  he said.

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A voice spoke within him.
“Abu  Yazid,  art  thou  not  ashamed   to  apply  My name to a fruit?”
For forty days his heart was oblivious to the name of
God.
“I have taken an oath,”  the shaikh declared,  “that I
will never eat the fruit of Bestam so long as I live.”

“One day I was seated,”  Abu Yazid recalled, “when the thought entered  my mind,  ‘I am the shaikh  of the time,  the  saint  of  the  age.’ As  soon  as  this  thought occurred to me, I knew that I had been guilty of a great error.   I  rose   up   and  proceeded   on   the   road   to Khorasan. I halted in a hospice and swore that I would not  leave it until  God  sent  me someone  who  should reveal me again to myself.
“Three  days and three  nights  I remained  there.  On the fourth day I saw a one-eyed man approaching on a camel. Observing  him closely, I saw in him the marks of divine  awareness.  I  signalled  to the camel  to halt, and  immediately  it  lowered  its  two  forelegs  to  the ground. The man gazed upon me.
“‘You bring me all this way,’ he said, ‘to open an eye that was closed, to unlatch a door that was locked, and to drown the people of Bestam along with Abu Yazid?’ “I swooned  away.  ‘Whence do you come?’ I asked.
‘Since the moment  you swore  that  oath,  I have  come

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three   thousand  leagues.’   Then   my  visitor   added,
‘Beware, Abu Yazid! Keep watch over your heart.’ “With that he turned his face from me and departed.”

Dho ‘l-Nun sent Abu Yazid a prayer rug. Abu Yazid returned  it to him.
“What  use is a prayer  rug  to me?”  he  demanded. “Send  me  a  cushion  to  lean  my  back against!”   (He implied that he had passed beyond the stage of prayer and had reached the goal.)
Dho ‘l-Nun then sent him a good pillow. Abu Yazid returned  that too, for by that time he had melted away and nothing  was left of him but skin and bones.
“He who has for a cushion,” he said, “the goodness and loving kindness  of God, that  man has no need of the pillow of one of God’s creatures.”

“I  once  passed  a  night  in the  desert,”  Abu  Yazid recalled.  “I  wrapped   my  head  in  my  habit and  fell asleep. Suddenly a state came upon me (he meant noc- turnal  emission)  that  required  me to wash.  Now  the night was extremely  cold, and when I awoke  my soul was sluggish about washing in cold water.  ‘Wait till the sun comes  up,  then  attend  to this business,’  my soul said.
“Observing  my soul’s sluggishness  and  indifference to the requirements of religion,  I arose and broke  the

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ice with  that  selfsame frock  and washed  myself,  then remained with the frock around  me until I dropped  and fainted. When I came to the frock had suddenly dried.”

Abu   Yazid   often   wandered   about   amongst   the tombs. One night he was returning  from the cemetery when  a  young  nobleman  approached  playing  a  lute. “God save us,” Abu Yazid exclaimed. The youth lifted the lute and dashed it against Abu Yazid’s head, break- ing both his head and the lute. The youth was drunk,  and did not realize whom he was striking.
Abu  Yazid  returned  to his convent  and  waited  till morning.  Then he summoned  one of his companions.
“What  do people give for a lute?” he asked him.
The companion informed  him. He wrapped  the sum in a cloth, added a piece of sweetmeat,  and sent these to the youth.
“Tell  the  young  gentleman,”  he  said,  “that  Abu Yazid  asks  his  pardon. Say to  him,  ‘Last  night  you struck  me  with  that  lute  and  it  broke.   Accept  this money in compensation, and buy another.  The sweet- meat is to remove from your heart the sorrow over the lute’s being broken.’“
When  the  young  nobleman   realized  what  he  had done,   he  came  to  Abu  Yazid  and  apologized.   He repented,  and  many  young  men  repented  along  with him.

abu  yazid al-bestami    145

One day Abu Yazid was walking with a party of dis- ciples.  The   road   narrowed,  and   just   then  a  dog approached from  the  opposite  direction.   Abu  Yazid retired, giving the dog right of way.
The chance thought of disapproval occurred  to one of the disciples. “Almighty  God honoured man above all other creatures.  Abu Yazid is the ‘king of the gnos- tics’ yet with  all this dignity,  and such a following  of disciples, he makes way for a dog. How can that be?” “Young man,”  Abu Yazid replied, “this dog mutely appealed  to me, ‘What shortcoming was I guilty of in the dawn of time, and what exceptional merit did you acquire,  that  I was clad in the skin of a dog  whereas you were robed in honour  as king of the gnostics?’ This was  the  thought that  came  into  my head,  so I made
way for the dog.”

One  day Abu Yazid was proceeding  along  the  way when presently a dog ran alongside of him. Abu Yazid drew in his skirt.
“If I am dry,”  said the dog,  “no  damage  has  been done.  If I am wet, seven waters  and earths will make peace between us. But if you draw your skirt to your- self like  a  Pharisee,  you  will  not  become  clean,  not though  you bathe in seven oceans.”
“You   are   unclean   outwardly,”   commented   Abu
Yazid.  “I  am  inwardly  unclean.  Come,  let  us  work

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together,  that  through  our united efforts we may both become clean.”
“You are not fit to travel with me and be my part- ner,”  the dog replied.  “For  I am rejected  of all men, whereas you are accepted of men. Whoever encounters me  throws   a  stone  at  me;  whoever  encounters   you greets you as King of the Gnostics.  I never store up a single bone for the morrow;  you have a whole barrel of wheat for the morrow.”
“I am not fit to travel along with a dog,”  said Abu Yazid. “How  then shall I travel along with the Eternal and Everlasting  One? Glory be to that God, who edu- cates the best of creatures by means of the least of crea- tures!”
Abu Yazid continued, “A sadness invaded me, and I despaired of being an obedient servant of God. I said to myself, ‘I will go to the market  and buy a girdle [worn by some non-  Muslims]  to tie  round  my middle,  that my reputation may vanish from among men.’ So I went searching for a girdle. I saw a shop with a girdle hang- ing. ‘They will give me this for only one dirham,’ I told myself. Then I said, ‘How much will you give this for?’
‘A thousand dinars,’  said  the  shopkeeper.  I  cast  my head down.  Then I heard a voice from heaven saying,
‘Did you not realize that they will not give for less than a thousand dinars a girdle for binding round the waist

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of such a man  as you?’ My heart  rejoiced,  for I  then knew that God cares for His servant.”

One night Abu Yazid dreamed  that the angels of the first heaven descended.
“Rise  up,”  they said to him,  “let  us  commemorate
God.”
“I have not  the tongue  to commemorate  Him,”  he replied.
The angels of the second heaven descended and said the same  words,  and  his answer  was  the  same.  So it continued  till the angels of the seventh heaven descend- ed; to them he gave the same reply.
“Well, when will you have the tongue to commemo-  rate God?”  they asked.
“When the inhabitants of Hell are fixed in Hell, and the inhabitants of Paradise take their place in Paradise,  and the resurrection is past, then,” said he, “Abu Yazid will go around  the throne  of God and will cry Allah, Allah!”

In   Abu   Yazid’s   neighbourhood  there   lived   a Zoroastrian. He  had  a  child,  and  this  child  used  to weep because  they had  no lamp.  Abu Yazid with  his own hand brought  a lamp to their house. The child was hushed at once.

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“Since Abu Yazid’s light has entered,” they said, “it would  be a pity for us to continue  in  our  own  dark- ness.”
They became Muslims forthwith.

One night Abu Yazid could find no joy in worship.  “Look  and  see if there  is anything  of  value  in the
house,”  he said.
His disciples looked,  and discovered half a bunch of grapes.
“Fetch them and give them away,” Abu Yazid com- manded.  “My house is not a fruiterer’s shop.”
And he rediscovered  his composure.

One   day   a   man   reported   to   Abu   Yazid,   “In Tabarestan a certain man had passed away. I saw you there with Khezr, peace be upon  him; he had laid his hand on your neck, and your hand rested on his back. When  the mourners  returned  from the funeral,  I saw you soar into the air.”
“Yes,” said Abu Yazid.  “What you say is  perfectly true.”

A man  who  did not  believe in Abu Yazid  came to him one day to put him to the test.
“Reveal  to me the answer to such-and-such a prob- lem,” he said.

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Abu Yazid perceived the unbelief within him.
“In a certain mountain there is a cave,” he told him. “In that cave lives one of my friends. Ask him to reveal the answer to you.”
The man hastily proceeded to the cave. There he saw a  huge  and  terrible  dragon.  As soon  as his  eyes fell upon it he fainted away, and fouled his clothes. When he recovered he flung himself out of that place, leaving his shoes behind.  So he returned  to Abu Yazid. Falling at his feet, he repented.
“Glory be to God!” Abu Yazid exclaimed. “You can- not  look  after  your  shoes  out  of fear  for  a  creature. Being in awe of God, how can you look after the ‘rev- elation’ which you came seeking in your disbelief?”

One  day a man  entered  and questioned  Abu  Yazid on the topic of shame.  Abu Yazid answered him, and the man turned to water. Another entered just then and perceived a pool of pale water.
“Master, what is this?” he asked.
“A man entered  and questioned  me about shame,”  Abu  Yazid  replied.  “I  answered  him.  He  could  not endure  what  I said,  and  so  turned  into  water  out  of shame.”

Hatem  the Deaf said to his disciples,  “Whosoever of you on the day of resurrection does not intercede

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for the inhabitants of Hell, he is not one of my disci- ples.”
This statement  was reported  to Abu Yazid.
“I say,” declared Abu Yazid, “that  he is my disciple who stands on the brink of Hell and takes by the hand every one being conveyed to Hell and dispatches him to Heaven,  and then enters Hell in his place.”

Once  the army  of Islam flagged in the war against Byzantium,  and was near to being defeated.  Suddenly they heard  a shout,  “Abu Yazid, give help!”  At once a he came from  the direction  of Khorasan, so that  fear fell upon  the  army  of  the  infidels  and  the  army  of Islam won the day.

Abu Yazid was asked,  “How did you attain  to this degree and achieve this station?”
“One  night  when  I was a child,”  he  answered, “I came out  from  Bestam.  The moon  was shining,  and the  world  was  at  rest.  I  beheld  a  Presence,  besides which eighteen thousand worlds  seemed but a mote. A deep emotion possessed me and I was overmastered by a mighty ecstasy. ‘Lord God,’ I cried, ‘so mighty a palace, and so empty! Works so tremendous, and such loneliness!’ A voice from heaven replied, ‘The palace is not  empty  because  none  comes  to  it; it is empty because  We do not  desire all and  sundry  to enter  it.

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Not every unwashed  of face is worthy  to inhabit this palace.’
“I made  the resolve to pray  for all creatures.  Then the  thought came  to me, ‘The station  of  intercession belongs  to  Mohammad,  upon  him  be  peace.’  So  I observed  my  manners   I  heard  a voice  address  me,
‘Because of this one observance of good manners I have exalted  your name,  so that  until the resurrection men shall call you King of the Gnostics.’”

“The  first  time  I entered  the  Holy  House,”  stated Abu Yazid, “I saw the Holy House.  The second time I entered it, I saw the Lord of the House.  The third time I saw neither the House nor the Lord of the House.”
By this Abu Yazid meant,  “I became lost in God, so that  I knew  nothing.  Had  I seen at all,  I  would  have seen God.”  Proof of this interpretation is given by the following anecdote.
A man  came  to the door  of Abu Yazid and  called out.
“Whom  are you seeking?” asked Abu Yazid. “Abu Yazid,” replied the man.
“Poor  wretch!”  said Abu Yazid. “I have been seek- ing Abu  Yazid  for  thirty  years,  and  cannot  find  any trace or token of him.”
This remark  was reported  to Dho ‘l-Nun.  He com- mented,  “God  have mercy on my brother Abu Yazid!

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He is lost with  the company  of those  that  are lost  in
God.”

So complete  was  Abu  Yazid’s  absorption in  God, that  every day when  he was called by a  disciple who had been his inseparable  companion for twenty years, he would say, “My son, what is your name?”
“Master,” the disciple said one day, “you ate mock- ing me. For twenty years now I have been serving you, and  every  day  you  ask  me  my  name.”   “My  son,” replied Abu Yazid, “I do not deride you. But His name has entered my heart, and has expelled all other names. As soon as I learn a new name, I promptly  forget it.”

“Almighty  God,”  said Abu Yazid, “admitted me to His presence in two thousand stations,  and in every sta- tion He offered me a kingdom,  but I declined it. God said to me, ‘Abu Yazid, what do you desire?’ I replied,
‘I desire not to desire.’”
“You walk on the water!”  they said.
“So does a piece of wood,”  Abu Yazid replied. “You fly in the air!”
“So does a bird.”
“You travel to the Kaaba in a single night!”
“Any conjurer  travels from India to Demavand in a single night.”

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“Then  what  is the proper  task  of true  men?”  they asked.
“The true man attaches  his heart to none but God,”
he replied.

“I triply divorced the world,” said Abu Yazid, “and alone  proceeded   to  the  Alone.  I  stood  before  the Presence and cried, ‘Lord God, I desire none but Thee. If I possess Thee, I possess all.’
“When  God recognized  my sincerity,  the first grace that He accorded  me was that he removed the chaff of the self from before me.”

“What  is the Throne?” Abu Yazid was asked. “It is I,” he replied.
“What  is the Footstool?” “I.”
“What  is the Tablet and the Pen?” “I.”
“God  has servants  the like of Abraham  and Moses and Jesus.”
“All are I.”
“God  has servants  the like of Gabriel  and  Michael and Seraphiel.”
“All are I.”
The man was silent.

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“Whoever  has  become  effaced  in God,”  said  Abu Yazid, “and has attained  the Reality of all that is, all is God.”

It is related  that  Abu  Yazid seventy  times  attained propinquity to the presence of the Almighty. Each time he returned, he  bound  a  girdle  about  him  and  then broke it.
When his life drew towards  its close, he entered the prayer niche and bound  a girdle about  him. He put on upside down  his fur jacket and his cap. Then he said, “O God, I do not vaunt of the discipline of a whole life- time.  I do not  parade  my all night  prayers.  I do not speak of my fasting all my life. I do not enumerate  the times I have recited the Koran. I do not tell of my spir- itual   occasions   and  litanies   and  proximities.   Thou knowest  that I do not look back on anything, and that this of which I give account  by my tongue is not said in boasting,  or because I rely thereon.  I give account  of all this,  because  I  am ashamed  of all that  I have  done. Thou hast invested me with the grace of seeing myself so. All that is nothing;  count it as naught.  I am an old Torkoman  of  seventy  years  whose  hair  has  grown white in pagandom. Now I come from the desert cry- ing Tangri Tangri. Only now I learn to say Allah Allah. Only now I break my girdle. Only now I set foot in the circle of Islam. Only now I make my tongue move with

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the attestation of the Faith. All that Thou doest is with- out cause; Thou acceptest not on account of obedience, and Thou rejectest not on account  of disobedience.  All that  I  have  done  I  reckon  as  but  dust.  Whatsoever Thou hast seen of me not pleasing to Thy presence, do Thou draw the line of pardon  through  it. And wash the dust of disobedience from me; for I have myself washed away the dust of the presumption that  I have obeyed Thee.”




Abd Allah ibn al-Mobarak

Abu ‘Abd al-Rahman ‘Abd Allah ibn al-Mobarak al-Hanzali al-Marwazi, born  in 118  (736)  of a Turkish father and a Persian mother,  was a noted authority on Traditions and a famous ascetic. He studied  under  many  teachers  in Merv  and  else- where,  and became erudite  in many branches  of learning, including grammar  and literature. A wealthy  merchant who distributed much in alms to the poor,  he died at Hit  on the Euphrates  in
181   (797).   He   composed   many   works   on Traditions, and one of these, on the theme of asceticism, has survived.

The conversion of Abd Allah-e Mobarak
The circumstances of Abd Allah-e Mobarak’s conver- sion were as follows. He became infatuated with a girl, so much so that he could not rest. One night during the winter he stood beneath
the wall  of his beloved’s  apartment until  morning,  waiting to catch a glimpse of her. All night it snowed. When the call to prayer sounded, he supposed  that  it was  for  the  prayer  before  sleeping.  Seeing  the  day- break,  he realized that  he had been absorbed  all night in his longing for his beloved.

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“Shame  on you,  son  of Mobarak!” he cried.  “On  such a blessed night you stood on your feet till morn- ing because of your private passion,  yet if the imam is over long in reciting a Sura during prayer you are quite frantic.”
Anguish gripped his heart  forthwith, and he repent- ed and devoted himself busily to worship. So complete was his devotion,  that one day his mother,  entering the garden,  saw  him  sleeping  under  a  rosebush  whilst  a snake  with  a  narcissus  in its mouth  was  driving  flies away from him.
After that  he set forth  from Merv and stayed for a time  in  Baghdad,   associating   with  the  Sufi  masters there.  Then  he proceeded  to Mecca  where  he resided for a space, after which he returned  to Merv. The peo- ple of Merv  welcomed  him back  warmly,  and  set up classes and study-groups. At that time half of the peo- ple  were  followers   of  Traditions  and  half  devoted themselves  to  jurisprudence.  So  today  Abd  Allah  is known as “the Approved  of the Two Sects” because he was in accord with each, and both claimed him as their own. Abd Allah founded two colleges in Merv, one for traditionists  and  the other  for jurisprudents. He then left for Hejaz, and took up residence in Mecca again.
In alternate  years he would perform  the pilgrimage, and  go out  to  the  wars,  and  a  third  year  he would engage  in  commerce.   The  profits  of  his  trading   he

abd allah ibn  al-mobarak     159

divided among  his followers.  He used to give dates to the poor, and count the date-stones; whoever ate more dates, he would offer a dirham for every stone.
So scrupulous  was he in his piety, that on one occa- sion he had alighted at an inn. Now he had a valuable horse; he  proceeded  to  prayer.  Meanwhile   his  horse wandered   into  a  field  of  wheat.  He  abandoned  his horse  there  and  proceeded  on  foot,  saying,  “He  has devoured  the  crop  of  the  authorities.”  On  another occasion he made the journey all the way from Merv to Damascus  to return  a pen which  he had  borrowed
and forgotten  to give back.
One day as he was passing through  a certain place they informed  a blind man living there that Abd Allah was coming. “Ask of him all that you require.”
“Stop, Abd Allah,” the blind man called. Abd Allah halted.
“Pray to God to restore my sight,” the man begged. Abd Allah lowered his head and prayed. At once the
man saw again.

Abd Allah-e Mobarak  and Ali ibn al-Mowaffaq Abd Allah was living at Mecca. One year, having com- pleted  the rites of the pilgrimage,  he fell  asleep.  In a dream he saw two angels descend from heaven.
“How  many  have  come  this  year?”  one  asked  the other.

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“Six hundred  thousand,” the other replied.
“How many have had their pilgrimage accepted?” “Not  one.”
“When I heard this,” Abd Allah reports,  “I was filled with trembling.  ‘What?’ I cried. ‘All these people have come from afar out of the distant ends of the earth and with great pain and weariness from every deep ravine, traversing  wide deserts, and all their labour  is in vain?’
‘There   is  a   cobbler   in  Damascus   called   Ali   ibn Mowaffaq,’ said the angel.  ‘He has not  come on the pilgrimage  , but his pilgrimage  is accepted  and all his sins have been forgiven.’
“When I heard this,” Abd Allah continued, “I awoke saying, ‘I must go to Damascus  and visit that  person.’ So I went to Damascus  and looked for where he lived. I  shouted,   and  someone  came  out.   ‘What  is  your name?’ I asked. ‘Ali ibn Mowaffaq,’ he replied. ‘I wish to speak with you,’ I said. ‘Say on,’ he replied.  ‘What work  do  you  do?’ ‘I cobble.’  I then  told  him  of my dream.  ‘What is your name?’ he enquired  when I had done.  ‘Abd Allah-e Mobarak,’ I replied.  He uttered  a cry and fell in a faint. When he recovered I said to him,
‘Tell me your story.’
“The  man  told  me,  ‘For  thirty  years  now  I  have longed to make  the pilgrimage.  I had  saved  up three hundred  and fifty dirhams from my cobbling. This year

abd allah ibn  al-mobarak     161

I had resolved to go to Mecca. One day the good lady within becoming pregnant, she smelt the smell of food coming from next door. “Go and fetch me a bit of that food,”   she  begged  me.  I  went  and  knocked  on  the neighbour’s   door   and   explained   the  situation.  My neighbour  burst  into  tears.  “My  children  have  eaten nothing  for  three  days  together,”  she said.  “Today  I saw a donkey  lying dead,  so I hacked off a piece and cooked  it. It would  not  be  lawful  food  for you.”  My heart  burned  within me when I heard  her tale. I took out the three hundred  and fifty dirhams and gave them to her. “Spend  these on the children,” I said. “This  is my pilgrimage.” ‘
“The  angel  spoke  truly  in my dream,” Abd  Allah declared, “and the Heavenly King was true in His judg- ment.”

Abd Allah-e Mobarak  and his slave
Abd Allah had a slave. A man told him, “That slave of yours plunders  the dead and gives you the proceeds.”
This information distressed Abd Allah. One night he followed on his slave’s heels. He went  to  a cemetery and opened  a grave.  In the grave  was a prayer-niche, where  the slave stood  at  prayer.  Abd Allah,  who  had watched  all this from a distance,  crept nearer.  He saw that  the slave was clothed  in sackcloth  and had put a

162     abd allah ibn  al-mobarak

collar round his neck. Rubbing  his face in the earth, he was  wailing.  Observing  this,  Abd  Allah  crept  away weeping and sat apart  in a corner.
The slave remained in that place until dawn. Then he came up and covered over the grave, and proceeded to the mosque and said his morning prayers.
“My God,”  he cried, “day has returned. My tempo- ral lord will ask me for money. Thou art the riches of the  bankrupt. Give  Thou  to  me  from  whence  Thou knowest.”
Immediately a light shone out of the sky, and a silver dirham dropped  into the slave’s hand. Abd Allah could not bear to watch any more. He rose up and took the head of the slave into his bosom and kissed him.
“A thousand lives be the ransom of such a slave!” he exclaimed. “You were the master,  not I.”
“O God,”  cried the slave, perceiving what had hap- pened, “now that my veil has been stripped away and my secret is revealed, no more repose remains for me in this world. I implore Thee by Thy might and glory, suf- fer me not to be a cause of stumbling.  Take away my soul.”
His head was still lying in Abd Allah’s bosom when he expired.  Abd Allah laid him out and wrapped  him in a winding-sheet, then  he buried  him in that  same sackcloth  in the selfsame grave.

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That  night Abd Allah saw the Master  of the World in a dream, and the Friend of God Abraham with him, each come down riding a heavenly horse.
“Abd  Allah,”  they  said,  “why  did  you  bury  our friend in sackcloth?”




Sofyan al-Thauri

Abu ‘Abd Allah Sofyan ibn Sa’id al-Thauri was born in 97 (715) at Kufa and studied first under his  father,   and  later  with  many  learned  men, attaining  high proficiency  in Traditions and the- ology. In 158 (775) he collided with the authori- ties  and  was  compelled   to  go  into  hiding  in Mecca; he died in 161 (778) at Basra. He found- ed a school  of jurisprudence which  survived for about  two centuries;  living a strictly  ascetic life, he was claimed by the Sufis as a saint.

Sofyan-e Thauri and the caliphs
The  scrupulousness  of  Sofyan-e   Thauri   manifested  itself even before he was born. One day his mother was on the roof of her house and put in her mouth  a few pickles from her neighbour’s  roof. Sofyan gave such a violent   kick  against   his  mother’s  womb   that   she thought she had lost him.
It is reported  that the caliph of those days was pray- ing before Sofyan, and whilst at prayer  he twirled  his moustache.
“This is not a proper  kind of prayer,”  Sofyan called out.  “Tomorrow on the resurrection plain this prayer will be flung into your face like a dirty rag.”

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“Speak a little more gently,” said the caliph.
“If I should hold my hand back from such a respon- sibility,”  Sofyan  answered,  “my  urine  would  turn  to blood.”
The  caliph   was  angered   by  these  remarks,   and ordered  him to be put on the gallows.
“Then no one else will be so bold before me,” he said. On the day when the gallows were erected, Sofyan was lying with his head in the bosom of a great saint and his feet in the lap of Sofyan ibn Oyaina, fast asleep. The two  saints,  learning  that  the gallows  were being prepared, said to one another,  “Let us not tell him.” At
this point Sofyan awoke
“What  is happening?” he asked.
They told him, exhibiting  much distress.
“I am not so greatly attached  to life,” Sofyan com- mented. “But one must discharge one’s duty so long as one is in this world.”
His  eyes filling with  tears,  he prayed,  “Lord  God, seize them with a mighty seizing!”
The caliph at that moment  was seated on his throne  surrounded by the pillars of state. A thunderbolt struck the palace, and the caliph with his ministers was swal- lowed by the earth.
“What    a   well-received   and   quickly   answered  prayer!”  exclaimed those two noble saints.

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Another  caliph  sat  on  the  throne  who  believed  in Sofyan.  It so happened  that  Sofyan  fell ill. Now  the caliph  had  a Christian  physician,  a great  master  and extremely  clever. He sent him to Sofyan to treat  him. When he examined  his urine, he remarked,
“This is a man whose liver has turned  to blood out of the fear of God. It is flowing little by little out of his bladder.   The  religion  which  such  a  man  holds,”  he added,  “cannot be false.”
And he immediately  turned  Muslim.
“I thought I was sending the physician to the bed of a sick man,”  the caliph commented. “In reality I sent the sick man to treat the physician.”

Anecdotes  of Sofyan-e Thauri
One day Sofyan with a friend was passing the door of a  notable.   The  friend  gazed  at  the  portico.   Sofyan rebuked  him.
“If you and your like did not gaze so at their palaces, they would  not  commit  such  extravagance,” he said. “By  gazing  you  become  partners   in  the  sin  of  this extravagance.”

A neighbour  of Sofyan’s died, and Sofyan went out to pray at his funeral.  After that  he heard people say- ing, “He was a good man.”

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“If I had known  that  other  men approved  of him,” said  Sofyan,  “I  would  never  have  taken  part  in  his funeral.  Unless a man is a hypocrite, the others do not approve  of him!”
One  day Sofyan put  on his clothes  all awry.  When this was pointed  out  to him,  he was on  the point  of adjusting  them, but then abstained.
“I put on this shirt for God’s sake,”  he said. “I do not wish to change it for the sake of men.”

A youth missed the pilgrimage,  and he sighed.
“I  have  performed  forty  pilgrimages,”  Sofyan  told him. “I bestow them all on you. Will you bestow this sigh on me?”
“I do,” said the youth.
That night Sofyan dreamed  that a voice said to him, “You have made such a profit on the transaction that, if it were divided up amongst  all the pilgrims at Arafat,  they would be rich indeed.”

One day Sofyan was eating a piece of bread when a dog happened  along. He gave the bread to the dog, bit by bit.
“Why did you not eat it with your wife and child?”
he was asked.
“If I give bread  to the dog,?’ he replied,  “he  keeps watch over me all through  the night so that I can pray.

sofyan al-thauri    169

If I give it to my wife and child, they hold me back from my devotions.”

Once Sofyan was travelling  to Mecca in a litter. A companion was  with  him,  and  Sofyan  wept  all  the way.
“Do you weep out of fear for your sins?” asked his friend. Sofyan stretched out his hand and plucked some stubble.
“My sins are many,” he replied. “Yet though my sins are many, they mean no more to me than this handful  of stubble.  What makes me afraid is whether  the faith I am offering is really faith or no.”

An illustration of the compassion  Sofyan showed to all God’s creatures  is provided  by the following  story. One day he saw in the market  a bird in a cage, flutter- ing and making a pitiful sound. He bought  it and set it free. Every night the bird would come to Sofyan’s home and watch all night while Sofyan prayed,  perching  on him from time to time.
When  Sofyan  died  and  was  being  borne  to  the grave, that bird insisted on joining the procession  and wailed  pitifully  along  with  the  rest of the mourners. When  Sofyan  was  committed   to  the  dust,  the  bird dashed  itself  to the ground.  A voice issued from the tomb,  “Almighty  God  has  forgiven  Sofyan  for  the

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compassion  he  showed  to  His  creatures.” The  bird died too, and joined Sofyan.


Shaqiq  of Balkh

Abu ‘Ali Shaqiq ibn Ebrahim  al-Azdi of Balkh, a man of wide learning, began his career as a mer- chant  but  later  turned  to  the  ascetic  way.  He made the pilgrimage to Mecca, and was martyred fighting in the holy wars in 194 (810).

The career of Shaqiq-e Balkhi
Shaqiq-e  Balkhi  was  a master  of many  sciences,  and wrote many books.  He taught  Hatem the Deaf, whilst he  learned   the   Way  from   Ebrahim-e   Adham.   He claimed  to have studied  under  I,700  teachers,  and  to have acquired several camels’ loads of books.  The cir- cumstances  of his conversion  were as follows.
Shaqiq  went  to Torkestan on a trading  expedition. On the way he paused  to look at a temple,  where he saw an idolater  worshipping an idol and making hum- ble obeisance.
“You have a Creator  who is living and omnipotent and  omniscient,”  he  told  the  man.  “Worship   Him. Have some shame; do not worship an idol from which neither good nor evil comes.”
‘If it is as you say,” the idolater  replied,  “is He not able to provide you with your daily bread in your own city? Must you then come all this way here?”

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These words  awakened  Shaqiq to the truth, and he turned  back  towards  Balkh.  A  Zoroastrian happened to travel along with him.
“What    are    you    engaged    upon?”    asked    the
Zoroastrian.
“Trading,” Shaqiq replied.
“If you are going in search of sustenance that has not been preordained for you, you can travel till the resur- rection and you will not attain it,” said the other. “And if you are going after sustenance that has been foreor- dained for you,  do not  trouble  to go; it will come to you of itself.”
These words  awakened  Shaqiq still further,  and his love for worldly things grew chill.
Finally Shaqiq returned  to Balkh, where his friends gave him a warm welcome; for he was famous for his generosity.  Now the Prince of Balkh at that  time was Ali ibn Isa ibn Haman, and he kept hunting-dogs. It so happened  that one of his dogs was missing.
“It is with Shaqiq’s neighbour,” they told him.
The  man  was  arrested  and  accused  of stealing  the dog. They beat him about,  and he turned to Shaqiq for protection. Shaqiq went to the Prince.
“Give me three days, and I will bring your dog back to you. Set my friend free,” he begged.
The Prince set Shaqiq’s neighbour  free. Three  days later by chance a man found and captured the dog.

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“I must take this dog to Shaqiq,”  he thought. “He is a generous man, and will give me something.”
So he brought  the dog to Shaqiq. Shaqiq brought  it to  the  Prince,  and  thus  he  was  quit  of  his  pledge. Thereupon he resolved to turn his back on the world entirely.
Later there was a great famine in Balkh, so that men were devouring one another.  In the market Shaqiq saw a young slave laughing happily.
“Slave, what occasion for merriment is this?” Shaqiq demanded. “Do you not see how the people are suffer- ing from hunger?”
“Why  should  I  be  worried?” the  slave  answered.  “My  master  owns  a whole  village  and has  plenty  of grain. He will never let me go hungry.”
Shaqiq lost all self-control  on hearing this reply.
“O God,”  he cried, “this slave is so happy in having a master who owns a stack of corn. Thou art the King of  Kings,  and  hast  undertaken  to  give  us  our  daily bread.  Why then should we be anxious?”
He thereupon abandoned all worldly occupation and made  sincere repentance. He set forth  on  the  path  to God, in whom he put perfect trust. He used to say, “I am the pupil of a slave.”

Hatem the Deaf relates the following anecdote.
I  went  with  Shaqiq  to the  holy  war.  One  day  the

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fighting  was very fierce; the ranks  were drawn  up  so closely that nothing could be seen but the tips of lances, and arrows  were raining from the sky.
“Hatem,” Shaqiq called to me, “how are you enjoy- ing yourself? May be you are thinking  it is last night, when you were sleeping in your bedclothes  with your wife!”
“Not  at all,” I replied.
“In  God’s  name  why  not?”  Shaqiq  cried.  “That is how  I feel. I feel as you  did  last  night  in your  bed- clothes.”
Then  night  came  on,  and  Shaqiq  laid  down  and, wrapping  himself in his gown, fell fast asleep. So com- pletely  did he rely upon  God  that in the midst  of so many enemies he slept soundly.

One   day   Shaqiq   was   lecturing   when   news   ran through   the  city  that  the  infidels  were  at  the  gates. Shaqiq ran  out  and  routed  the  unbelievers,  then  he returned. A disciple placed  a handful  of flowers  near the Master’s prayer rug. He picked them up and smelt them.
An ignorant fellow saw this and shouted,
“An army at the gates, and the imam of the Muslims holds flowers to his nose!”
“The hypocrite  sees the smelling of flowers all right, but he does not see the routing of the infidels,” Shaqiq commented.

shaqiq of balkh     175

Shaqiq-e Balkhi before Harun al-Rashid
When  Shaqiq  set  out  on  the  Mecca  pilgrimage  and reached Baghdad,  Harun  al-Rashid summoned him.
“Are  you  Shaqiq  the  Ascetic?”  Harun  demanded when he came into his presence.
“I am Shaqiq,”  he replied, “but  not the Ascetic.” “Counsel me,” Harun commanded.
“Then  attend,” Shaqiq  proceeded.  “Almighty  God has set you in the place of Abu Bakr the  Trusty,  and requires  trustiness  from you as from  him.  He has set you  in  the  place  of  Omar  the  Discriminator,  and requires from you as from him discrimination between truth  and  falsehood.  He  has  set  you  in the  place  of Othman of the Two Lights, and requires  from you as from him modesty  and nobility.  He has set you in the place of Ali the Well-approved, and requires  from you as from him knowledge  and justice.”
“Say more,”  Harun  cried.
“God has a lodging-place  called Hell,”  Shaqiq said. “He   has   appointed  you   its  doorkeeper,   and   has equipped  you  with  three  things—wealth,  sword  and whip.  ‘With these  three  things,’  He commands, ‘keep the people away from Hell. If any man comes to you in need,  do not  grudge  him money.  If any man  opposes God’s  commandment, school  him  with  this  whip.  If any  man  slays  another,   lawfully  exact  retaliation on him with this sword.’  If you do not these things,  you will be the leader of those that enter Hell.”

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“Say more,”  Harun  repeated.
“You  are  the  fountain,  and  your  agents  are  the rivulets,”  said Shaqiq.  “If the fountain  is  bright,  it is not impaired  by the darkness  of the rivulets. But if the fountain  is dark,  what  hope  is  there  that  the rivulets will be bright?”
“Say more,”  Harun  said again.
“Suppose you are thirsting  in the desert, so that you are  about   to  perish,”   Shaqiq  went  on.  “If  in  that moment you come upon a draught of water, how much will you be willing to give for it?”
“As much as the man demands,” said Harun. “And if he will not sell save for half your kingdom?”
“I would give that,”  Harun  replied.
“And suppose  you drink  the water  and then it will not come out of you, so that you are in danger of per- ishing,”  Shaqiq  pursued.  “Then  someone  tells you,  ‘I will cure you, but I demand half your kingdom.’  What would you do?”
“I would give it,” answered  Harun.
“Then  why do you vaunt  yourself  of a  kingdom,” said  Shaqiq,  “the  value  of  which  is  one  draught of water which you drink, and then it comes out of you?” Harun  wept, and sent Shaqiq away with all honour.


Dawud al-Ta’i

Abu Solaiman  Dawud  ibn Nosair  al-Ta’i of Kufa was a man of notable  erudition, a pupil  of Abu Hanifa;  he was  converted  to the  ascetic  life by Habib  al-Ra’i  and  threw  all his books  into  the Euphrates. He died between  160 (777)  and 165 (782).

The poverty of Dawud-e  Ta’i
From the beginning Dawud-e Ta’i was overwhelmed by an inner grief and always avoided the society of his fel- low creatures.  The cause of his conversion  was that he heard a mourning-woman recite these verses.
On  which of your cheeks has decay begun, And  which of your eyes has started to run?
Great  sorrow  invaded  his heart,  and all composure deserted’ him. In this state he went to lessons with his teacher Abu Hanifa.
“What  has transpired with you?” Abu Hanifa asked. Dawud  related to him the foregoing incident.
“The  world  has  lost  its  attractions  for  me,”  he added.; “Something  has happened  inside of me which I cannot  under-~  stand,  nor  can I  discover  an explana-  tion of it in any book ort legal pronouncement.”
“Turn  away  from  other  men,”   Abu  Hanifa  pre- scribed.

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So Dawud  turned  his face from other men and shut himself  up  in  his  house.  After  a  long  interval,  Abu Hanifa  went to see him.
“This  is not  the  solution,  for  you  to hide  in  your house and utter  not a word.  The proper course is for you to sit at the feet of the imams and listen to them propounding novel  ideas.  You  should  attend  to what they have to say  patiently,  uttering  not  a word.  Then you will know those problems  better than they.”
Recognizing  the  good  sense  of  what  Abu  Hanifa  said, Dawud  resumed  his studies.  For a year he sat at the  feet of the  imams,  never  opening  his mouth  and accepting  their  pronouncements with  patience,  being content simply to listen and not to reply.
“This one year’s patience,” he remarked at the end of that’  time,  “is  equivalent   to  thirty  years’  strenuous work.”
He  then  encountered Habib-e  Ra’i,  who  initiated  him into the mystic path.  He set forth upon it manful- ly. He flung his books  into the river, went into retire- ment and cut off all expectation of other men.
Now  he  had  received  twenty  dinars  as  an  inheri- tance.  These he consumed  in twenty years. Certain  of the shaikhs reproved  him for this.
“The path stands for giving to others, not keeping to oneself.”

dawud al-ta’i    179

“I  hold  on  to  this  amount   to  secure  my  peace  of mind,”  he explained.  “I can make do with this until I die.”
He  spared  himself  no  austerity,  to  such  an  extent that  he  would  dip  bread  in  water  and  then  sip  the water, saying, “Between this and eating the bread I can recite fifty verses of the Koran. Why should I waste my life?”
Abu  Bakr-e  Aiyash  reports,   “I  went  to  Dawud’s chamber  and saw him holding a piece of dry bread and weeping.  ‘What  has  happened,  Dawud?’  I  asked.  ‘I want  to eat this piece of bread,’  he replied,  ‘and I do not know whether  it is hallowed  or unhallowed.”’
Another reports,  “I called on him, and saw a pitcher of water  placed in the sun. I asked,  ‘Why do you not place it in the shade?’ ‘When I put it there, it was in the shade,’ he replied. ‘Now I am too ashamed  before God to indulge myself.’”

Anecdotes  of Dawud
It is said that Dawud  owned a great palace with many apartments. He would  occupy  one  apartment until  it fell into ruins; then he would move to another  apart-  ment.
“Why  do  you  not  repair  the  apartment?” he  was asked.

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‘I have made a covenant  with God not to repair this world,” he replied.
Gradually   the   whole   palace   collapsed,   nothing  remaining  except  the portico.  On the  night  on which Dawud  died, the portico also fell in.
“The  roof  of the  apartment is broken,”  remarked another  visitor. “It is about  to fall.”
‘] have  not  looked  at  this  roof  for  twenty  years,”
answered Dawud.

“Why do you not marry?”  Dawud  was asked.
“I do not  wish to deceive a believing  woman,”  he replied.
“How is that?”
“If I propose to a woman,” Dawud explained, “that will mean that I have undertaken to manage her affairs. Since I cannot  attend  both  to my religious duties and the world, that means that I will have deceived her.”
“Well, at least comb your beard,”  they said.
“That implies being at leisure to do it,” he answered.

One moonlit  night Dawud  went up on his roof and gazed at the sky. He fell to meditating  on the splendor  of God’s kingdom,  and wept until he was beside him- self. He fell off on to the roof of his neighbour. The lat- ter,  thinking  that  a thief  was  on his roof,  rushed  up

dawud al-ta’i    181

with a sword. Seeing Dawud there, he took him by the hand.
“Who threw you down here?” he asked.
“I  do  not  know,”  Dawud  replied.  “I  was  beside myself. I have no idea at all.”

Once Dawud  was seen running  to prayers. “What is the hurry?”  he was asked.
“This  army  at  the  gates  of  the  city,”  he  replied. “They are waiting for me.”
“Which  army?”  they exclaimed. “The men of the tombs,”  he replied.

Harun  al-Rashid  asked  Abu  Yusof  to take  him  to visit Dawud.  Abu Yusof went  to  Dawud’s house,  but was refused admission.  He begged Dawud’s  mother  to intercede.
“Admit  him,” his mother  pleaded.
“What  business  have I with  worldlings  and  evildo- ers?” Dawud  replied, refusing to comply.
“I implore you, by the right of my milk, admit him,”
his mother  said.
“O God,”  said Dawud,  “Thou  hast  said,  ‘Observe the right of thy mother,  for My good pleasure is in her good pleasure.’  Otherwise, what business  have I with them?

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He then granted  audience.  They entered  and seated themselves.  Dawud  began to preach,  and Harun  wept copiously.  When  he  withdrew,   he  put  down  a  gold moidore.
“This is hallowed,” he said.
“Remove  it,”  Dawud  said.  “I have no need of  it. I sold a house which was mine by hallowed inheritance, and live on the proceeds.  I have asked God that when that  money  is spent  He  shall  take  my soul,  so that  I may not be in need of any man. I am hopeful that God has answered my prayer.”
Harun  and Abu Yusof then returned  to the  palace. Abu Yusof went to see the keeper of the purse.
“How much is left of Dawud’s money?”  he asked. “Two  dirhams,” the  keeper  replied.  “He  has  been
spending a silver penny daily.”
Abu  Yusof  calculated.  Another  day,  standing  with his back  to  the  prayer-niche, he  announced,  “Today Dawud has died.” Enquiry was made, and it was found to be so.
“How did you know?”  they asked.
“I calculated  from his expenditure that  today noth- ing remained  to him,”  Abu Yusof explained. “I knew that his prayer would be answered.”


al-Mohasebi

The account  given by Attar  of al-Mohasebi, one of the  greatest  figures  in the  history  of Islamic mysticism is surprisingly  jejune. Born in Basra in
165 (781), Abu ‘Abd Allah al-Hareth ibn Asad al- Basri al-Mohasebi early in his life removed to Baghdad where he studied Traditions and theolo- gy and was closely involved with the leading per- sonalities  and prominent events of his times. He died in 243(857). The influence  of his teachings and writings upon later mystical theorists,  includ- ing in particular Abu Hamed al-Ghazali,  was pro- found  and far-reaching. Many  of his books  and pamphlets  have been preserved,  the most impor- tant being the Ketab al-Re’aya (edited by Dr. Margaret Smith, London,  1940).

The austerity of Hareth-e Mohasebi
Hareth-e   Mohasebi   inherited  thirty  thousand  dinars from his father.
“Take it to the Treasury.  Let the authorities have it,”
he ordered.
“Why?”  they asked.
“The  Prophet  said,”  he explained,  “and  it is a true
Tradition that  the  Qadarites are  the  Magians  of  this

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community.  My  father  was  a  Qadarite. The  Prophet  also said that a Muslim cannot  inherit from a Magian.  My  father  was  a  Magian,   as  you  see,  and  I  am  a Muslim.”
God’s providence  in preserving  him was such  that, when  he stretched  out  his hand  towards  food  whose lawfulness was doubtful, a nerve in the back of his fin- ger became  taut  so   that  the  finger  did not  obey the command  to move.  Thus  he knew  that  the morsel  in question  was not proper.
“Hareth came to me one day and was visibly hun- gry,” reported  Jonaid. “ ‘Uncle, I will bring some food,’ I said.  ‘That  would  be welcome,’  he  answered.  So I went to the larder  and looked for some food. I found some  remains   of  a  wedding-feast  which  had  been brought  to us for supper.  I brought  this a offered it to him. His finger would not obey him. He put morsel in his  mouth,   but  despite  all  his  efforts  it  would  not down.  He turned  it about  in his mouth,  then at last he got and put it out in the porch and took his departure. “Later  I questioned  him about what had happened. Hareth  said, ‘I was certainly hungry,  and I wanted  to please you. But God has given me a special sign, that any food that  is doubtful  will not go down my throat and my finger refuses to touch it. For all that I tried, it would not go down. Where did that. food come from?’
‘From the house of a kinsman  of mine,’ replied.

al-mohasebi     185

“Then I said, ‘Today will you come to my house?’ ‘I will,’ he replied. So we entered,  and fetched a piece of dry bread,  and we ate.  Hareth  remarked, ‘This is the kind of thing to offer dervishes.’”




Ahmad ibn Harb

Ahmad ibn Harb al-Nisaburi was a noted ascetic of Nishapur, a reliable traditionist and a fighter in the holy wars. He visited Baghdad  in the time of Ahmad  ibn Hanbal  and taught  there; he died in
234 (849) at the age of 85.

Ahmad-e  Harb and the Zoroastrian
Ahmad-e   Harb   had   for   neighbour a   Zoroastrian named Bahram. Now this neighbour had sent a partner out on a trading  mission, and on the way thieves had carried off all his goods.
“Rise  up,”  Ahmad  called  to his disciples  when he heard  the  news.  “Such  a  thing  has  happened  to our neighbour.  Let  us  go  and  condole   with  him.  Even though  he is a Zoroastrian, yet he is a neighbour.”
When  they  reached  the  door  of his house  Bahram was kindling his Zoroastrian fire. He ran forward  and kissed his sleeve. Bahram,  thinking  that  perhaps  they were hungry, though  bread was scarce made to lay the table.
“Do  not  trouble  yourself,”  Ahmad  said.  “We  have come to sympathize.  I heard that your goods had been stolen.”
“Yes, that is so,” said Bahram. “But I have three rea- sons  to be grateful  to God.  First,  because  they  stole

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from me and not from someone else. Second, that they took only a half. Third,  that even if my worldly goods are gone, I still have my religion; and the world comes and goes.”
These words pleased Ahmad.
“Write this down,”  he told his disciples. “The odor of Islam  issues  from  these  words.”   Then  he added, turning to Bahram,  “Why do you worship  this fire?” “So  that  it  may  not  burn  me,”  Bahram  replied. “Secondly,   as  today  I  have  given  it  so  much  fuel, tomorrow it will not be untrue  to me but will convey
me to God.”
“You  have  made   a  great   mistake,”   commented Ahmad. “Fire is weak and ignorant and faithless. All the  calculations you  have  based on it are  false.  If a child pours a little water on it, it will go out. A thing so weak  as  that—how can it convey you to One  so mighty?  A thing  that  has  not  the  strength  to  repel from  itself a little  earth—how can  it  convey  you  to God? Moreover, to prove it is ignorant:  if you sprin- kle musk and filth upon it, it will burn them both and not  know  that  one  is better  than  the  other—that is why it makes no distinction  between  filth and frank- incense. Again, it is now seventy years that  you have been worshipping it, and I have never worshipped it; come, let us both put a hand in the fire, and you will

ahmad ibn  harb    189

see that it burns both our hands. It will not be true to you.”
These words struck the Zoroastrian to the heart.
“I  will  ask  you  four  questions,” he  said.  “If  you answer them all, I will accept your Faith. Say: why did God create men? And having created them, why did He provide  for  them?  Why  does  He  cause  them  to die? And  having  caused  them  to  die,  why  does  He  raise them up again?”
“He created them that they might be His servants,” Ahmad replied. “He provided for them that they might know  Him to be the  All-provider.  He causes them to die that  they may know His overwhelming  Power. He makes them to live again that  they may know Him to be Omnipotent and Omniscient.”
As soon as Ahmad had finished, Bahram recited the attestation.
“I bear witness that  there is no god but God, and I bear witness that Mohammad is the Apostle of God.”  Thereupon Ahmad cried aloud and fainted. Presently
he recovered consciousness.
“Why did you faint?”  his disciples asked.
“The  moment  that  he  raised  his  finger  in  attesta-  tion,”  Ahmad  replied,  “a  voice  called  to  me  in  my inmost  heart.  ‘Ahmad,’ the voice said, ‘Bahram was a Zoroastrian for seventy years, but at last he believed.

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You have spent seventy years in the Faith; now at the end what will you have to offer?’”

Ahmad-e  Harb and Ahmad  the Merchant
There lived in Nishapur two men, one named Ahmad- e Harb and the other called Ahmad the Merchant.
Ahmad-e Harb was a man so wrapped  up in the rec- ollection of God, that when the barber wished to trim his moustache  he kept moving his lips.
“Keep still just while I trim these hairs,” said the bar- ber.
“You   busy   yourself   with   your   own   affairs,”
answered Ahmad-e Harb.
And each time the barber  trimmed,  some part of his lips was nicked.
On one occasion  he received a letter and for a long while  intended  to answer  it but  did not  find  a spare moment.  Then one day the muezzin was chanting  the call  to prayer.  Just  while  he  was  saying  “It  is time” Ahmad called to a companion.
“Answer  my friend’s letter.  Tell him not to write to me any more,  because  I have not  the  leisure to reply. Write, ‘Be busy with God. Farewell!’ “
As for Ahmad the Merchant, he was so wrapped up in love  of worldly  things  that  one  day  he asked  his maidservant for food. The maidservant prepared  a dish and brought  it to him, but he went on with his calcu-

ahmad ibn  harb     191

lations  until  night  fell, and  he dropped  off to  sleep. When he woke next morning  he called to the maid.
“You did not make that food.”
“I did make it. But you were so taken up with your calculations.”
She cooked  a dish a second  time and laid it  before her master,  but again he did not find the leisure to eat it. A third time the girl prepared food for him, and still he found  no opportunity.  The maid  came  and  found him asleep, so she rubbed  some of the food on his lips. Ahmad the Merchant awoke.
“Bring  the  basin,”  he called,  thinking  that  he  had eaten.

Ahmad-e  Harb and his son
Ahmad-e  Harb  had a little son whom he was training  to trust in God.
“Whenever   you  want  food  or  anything,” he  told him,  “go  to this window  and  say, ‘Lord  God,  I need bread.’ “
Each time the child went  to that  place,  the  parents  had so arranged  to place in the window what the child desired.
One day they were out of the house when the child was  overcome  by  the  pangs  of  hunger.  As  usual  he came under the window and prayed.
“Lord God, I need bread.”

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Immediately food was sent down to him by the win- dow. The household  returned  to find him sitting down and eating.
“Where  did you get this from?”  they asked.
“From the one who gives me every day,” he replied. So they realized that  he was well established  in this
way.


Hatem  al-Asamm

Abu ‘Abd al-Rahman Hatem ibn ‘Onwan al- Asamm (“the  Deaf”),  a native  of Balkh,  was  a pupil  of  Shaqiq  al-Balkhi.  He  visited  Baghdad, and died at Washjard  near Termedh in 237 (852).

Anecdotes  of Hatem the Deaf
Hatem  the  Deaf’s  charity  was  so great  that  when  a woman came to him one day to ask him a question and at that moment  she broke wind, he said to her, “Speak louder. I am hard of hearing.” This he said in order that the woman  should not be put to shame. She raised her voice, and  he  answered  her problem.  So long as that old woman  was alive, for close on fifteen years Hatem made out that  he was deaf, so that  no one should  tell the old woman  that he was not so. After her death he gave his answers  readily.  Until then,  he would  say to everyone who spoke to him, “Speak louder.” That was why he was called Hatem the Deaf.

One day Hatem was preaching  in Balkh.
“O God,”  he prayed,  “whoever  in this congregation today  is the  greatest  and  boldest  sinner  and  has  the blackest record,  do Thou forgive him.”
Now there was present  in that  congregation a man who robbed the dead. He had opened many tombs and

194     hatem al-asamm

stolen the winding-sheets. That night he went about his usual  business  of robbing  the  dead.  He had  actually removed the earth from a grave when he heard a voice proceeding  out of the tomb.
“Are you not ashamed?  This morning  you were par- doned  at  Hatem’s  gathering,  and  tonight  you  are  at your old business again?”
The grave-robber jumped  out of the tomb,  and ran to  Hatem.   He  told  him  what   had  happened,  and repented.

Sa’d ibn Mohammad al-Razi reports  the following. For many years I was a disciple of Hatem,  and in all
that  time I only once saw him angry. He had gone to the market,  and  there  he saw a man  who had  seized hold of one of his apprentices and was shouting.
“Many times he has taken my goods and eaten them, and does not pay me the price of them.”
“Good  sir, be charitable,” Hatem interposed.
“I know nothing  of charity.  I want  my money,” the man retorted.
All Hatem’s  pleading  was  without effect.  Growing angry, he took his cloak from his shoulders and flung it to the ground  there in the midst of the bazaar.  It was filled with gold, all true coin.
“Come,  take what is owing to you, and no more, or your hand will be withered,” he said to the tradesman.

hatem al-asamm    195

The man set about  picking up the gold until he had taken   his  due.  He  could  not  contain  himself,  and stretched out the hand again to pick up more. His hand immediately  became withered.

One day a man came to Hatem and said, “I possess much wealth, and I wish to give some of this wealth to you and your companions. Will you accept?”
“I am afraid,” Hatem answered,  “that  when you die I  shall  have  to  say,  ‘Heavenly  Provider,  my  earthly provider is dead.’”

Hatem  recalled,  “When  I went  out  to the  wars  a Turk seized me and flung me to the ground to kill me. My heart  was not concerned or afraid.  I just waited to  see  what  he  would  do.  He  was  feeling  for  his sword,  when suddenly  an arrow  pierced him and he fell from  me. ‘Did you kill me, or did I kill you?’ I exclaimed.”

When Hatem came to Baghdad the caliph was told, “The  ascetic  of  Khorasan   has  arrived.”  The  caliph promptly  sent for him.
“O caliph the ascetic,”  Hatem  addressed  the caliph as he entered.
“I am not an ascetic,” replied the caliph. “The whole world is under my command. You are the ascetic.”

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“No,  you  are  the  ascetic,”  Hatem  retorted.  “God  says, Say, the enjoyment of this world is little. You are contented  with a little. You are the ascetic, not I. I will not submit to this world or the next; how then am I an ascetic?”


Sahl ibn Abd Allah al-Tostari

Abu Mohammad Sahl ibn ‘Abd Allah al-Tostari was born at Tostar  (Ahwaz) c. 200 (815), studied with  Sofyan al-Thauri, and  met  Dho  ‘l-Nun  al- Mesri.  A quiet life was interrupted in 261 (874) when he was compelled  to seek refuge in Basra, where he died in 282 (896). A short commentary on the Koran  is attributed to him, and he made important  contributions to  the  development   of Sufi  theory,  being  influential  through  his  pupil Ibn Salem who founded  the Salemiya school.

The early years of Sahl ibn Abd Allah al-Tostari Sahl  ibn  Abd  Allah  al-Tostari   gives  the   following account  of himself.
I remember  when  God  said,  Am I not  your  Lord? and I said, Yes indeed.  I also remember myself in my mother’s womb.
I was three years old when I began to pray all night. My  uncle  Mohammad ibn  Sawwar  wept  to  see  me pray.
“Sahl, go to sleep. You make me anxious,” he said.
I kept watch on my uncle secretly and openly. Then matters  reached  the point  that  one day I said to him, “Uncle, I have a hard state to contend with. I seem to see my head prostrate before the Throne.”

198     sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari

“Keep this state secret, my boy, and tell no one,” he advised. Then  he added,  “Recollect  when  you are in your  bedclothes   rolling  from  side  to  side.  As  your tongue  moves, say, ‘God is with me, God is watching over me, God is witnessing me.’ “
I used this formula,  and informed  my uncle so.
“Say the  words  seven times  each  night,”  he  coun- selled me.
I informed  him that I had done so. “Say them fifteen times.”
I did as my uncle directed,  and a sweetness invaded my  heart  therefrom. A year  passed.  Then  my  uncle said, “Keep my instructions and continue  that practice until  you  go to the  grave.  The  fruits  thereof  will be yours in this world and the next.”
Years passed, and I used the same formula  until the sweetness of it penetrated my most secret heart.
“Sahl,”  said my uncle, “when  God is with any man and  God  sees  him,  how  can  he  disobey  God?  God watch over you, that you may not disobey.”
After that I went into seclusion. Then they sent me to school.
“I  am  afraid  that  my  concentration may  be  scat- tered,”  I said.  “Make  it a condition  with  the teacher that  I remain  with  him  for  an  hour  and  learn  some lessons, then I am to return to my true occupation.”

sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari    199

On  these  terms  I went  to  school  and  learned  the Koran, being  then  seven years  old.  From  that  time  I fasted continuously, my only food being barley bread. At twelve a problem occurred to me which no one was able to solve. I asked them to send me to Basra to pro- pound  that  problem.  I came to Basra and questioned the learned men of that  city, but no one could answer me.  From  there  I proceeded  to  Abbadan,  to  a  man called Habib  ibn Hamza. He answered  my question.  I remained  with  him  for some time,  and  derived  much benefit from his instruction.
Then I came to Tostar. By that time my diet had been reduced to the point that they would buy barley for me for  a dirham,  grind  it and  bake  it  into  bread.  Every night about dawn I would break my fast with an ounce of that  bread,  without relish  or salt.  In that  way the dirham lasted me a year.
After  that  I resolved  to  break  my  fast  once  every three days, then once every five days, then once every seven days, and so on until I reached once every twen- ty days. (According to one report, Sahl claimed to have reached  once every seventy days.) Sometimes I would eat just one almond  every forty days.
I made trial for many years of satiety and hunger. In the beginning  my weakness  resulted from hunger  and my  strength   came   from   satiety.   After   a  time   my

200     sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari

strength  derived  from hunger  and my weakness  from satiety.  Then  I prayed,  “O  God,  close  Sahl’s eyes to both,  that he may see satiety in hunger,  and hunger  in satiety, both proceed from Thee.”

One day Sahl said, “Repentance is a duty incumbent upon a man every moment,  whether he be of the elect or the common folk, whether he be obedient  to God or disobedient.”
There was a certain man in Tostar  who laid claim to be  learned  and  an  ascetic.  He  protested  against  this statement  of Sahl’s.
“He says that the disobedient must repent of his dis- obedience, and the obedient  of his obedience.”
And he turned  the people against  Sahl, making him out  to be a heretic  and an infidel.  All,  commons  and nobles  alike,  took  up his charge.  Sahl refrained  from disputing  with them to correct their misunderstanding. Fired by the pure flame of religion, he wrote down on paper a list of all his possessions,  farms, houses, furni- ture, carpets,  vessels, gold and silver. Then he gathered the people and scattered  the pages over their heads. He gave to every man all that  was  inscribed  on the page that  he  picked  up,  as  a  token  of  gratitude   for  their relieving him of his worldly goods. Having given every- thing away, he set out for Hejaz.

sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari    201

“My soul,”  he addressed  himself, “now I am bank- rupt. Make no further  demand on me, for you will not get anything.”
His soul agreed not to ask him for anything, until he reached Kufa.
“So far,” his soul then said, “I have not asked you for anything.  Now I desire a piece of bread and a fish. Give me that  much to eat, and I will not trouble  you again all the way to Mecca.”
Entering  Kufa,  Sahl  observed   an  ass-mill  with  a camel tied to it.
“How  much  do  you  give to hire  this  camel  for a day?” he asked.
“Two dirhams,” they told him.
“Release the camel and tie me in its place, and give me  one  dirham  for  up  to  the  evening  prayer,”  Sahl demanded.
They released the camel and tied Sahl to the ass-mill. At nightfall they gave him a dirham.  He bought  bread and a fish and laid it before him.
“Soul,”  he addressed  himself, “every time you want this, resolve with yourself that tomorrow till sunset you will do mule’s work to get what you want.”
Then  Sahl  proceeded  to the  Kaaba,  where  he  met many Sufi masters. From there he returned  to Tostar, to find Dho ‘l-Nun awaiting  him.

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Anecdotes  of Sahl
Amr-e  Laith  fell sick, so that  all the  physicians  were powerless to treat him.
“Is there  anyone  who  can pray  for a cure?”  it  was asked.
“Sahl  is such a man  whose  prayers  are  answered,”
came the reply.
His  help  was  therefore   invoked.   Having  in  mind God’s   command   to  “obey   those   in   authority”  he responded  to the appeal.
“Prayer,”  he stated when he was seated before Amr, “is effective only in the case of one who is penitent.  In your prison there are men wrongfully detained.”
Amr released them all, and repented.
“Lord God,”  prayed Sahl, “like as Thou hast shown to him the abasement due to his disobedience,  so now display to him the glory gained by my obedience.  Like as Thou hast clothed his inward parts with the garment of  repentance, so now  clothe  his outward parts  with the garment  of health.”
As  soon  as  Sahl  had  uttered   this  prayer,  Amr-e Laith  recovered  his  health  completely.  He  offered Sahl much  money,  but  this he  declined,  and  left his presence.
“If you had accepted something,” objected one of his disciples,  “so  that  we  might  have  applied  it  to  dis-

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charging  the  debt  we have  incurred,  would  that  not have been better?”
“Do you need gold? Then look!”  replied Sahl.
The disciple looked and behold, the whole plain and desert were filled with gold and rubies.
“Why,”  said  Sahl,  “should   one  who  enjoys  such favour  with  God  accept  anything  from  one  of God’s creatures?”

Whenever Sahl partook in a mystic audition he went into ecstasy and would continue  rapt for five days, eat- ing no  food.  If it was  winter,  the  sweat  would  pour from him and drench  his shirt.
When he was in that state, and the ulema questioned him, he would  say, “Do  not  question  me, for  in this mystic moment you will get no benefit from me and my words.”

Sahl used to walk on the water without his feet being so much as moistened.
“People say,” someone observed,  “that  you walk on water.”
“Ask the muezzin of this mosque,” Sahl replied. “He is a truthful  man.”
“I asked him,” the man said. “The muezzin told me,
‘I never saw that. But in these days he entered a pool to

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wash. He fell into the pool, and if I had not been on the spot he would have died there.’”
When  Abu Ali-e Daqqaq  heard  this story,  he  com- mented,  “He  had  many  miraculous  powers,   but  he wished to keep them hidden.”

One  day  Sahl  was  seated  in  the  mosque  when a pigeon dropped  to the ground,  exhausted by the heat.
“Shah-e Kermani has died,” remarked  Sahl.
When  they looked  into  the matter,  it proved  to  be exactly as Sahl said.

Many lions and other wild beasts used to visit Sahl, and  he would  feed and  tend  them.  Even  today  Sahl’s house in Tostar is called “the house of the wild beasts.”

After his long vigils and painful  austerities  Sahl lost his physical  control,  suffering  from  blennorrhoea, so much so that he had to go to the privy several times an hour.  To  ease  matters,   he  always  kept  a  jar  handy because  he could  not  govern  himself.  When  the time for prayer  came round,  however,  the flow ceased. He would then perform his ablutions  and pray, and resume as before. Whenever he mounted  the pulpit,  his blenn- orrhoea  ceased completely, and all his pain would van- ish. As soon as he came down from the pulpit,  his ail-

sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari    205

ment would show itself again. In all this, he never failed to observe even a tittle of the sacred Law.

On the day when Sahl’s demise approached, his four hundred disciples were in attendance at his sickbed.
“Who  will sit in your  place,  and  who  will  preach from your pulpit?”  they asked.
Now there was a certain Zoroastrian named Shadh- Del.
“Shadh-Del   will  sit  in  my  place,”  answered  Sahl, opening his eyes.
“The shaikh has lost his reason,” muttered  the disci- ples.
Having  four  hundred  disciples,  all men of  learning and religion, he appoints  a Zoroastrian to his place!”
“Cease  your  clamour!” cried  Sahl.  “Go  and  bring
Shadh-Del to me.”
The disciples fetched the Zoroastrian.
“When  three  days  have  elapsed  after  my  death,” Sahl said when  his eyes fell on him,  “after  the after- noon prayers go into my pulpit and sit in my place, and preach to the people.”
With  these words  Sahl died.  Three  days later,  after the  afternoon  prayers,   as  many   again   assembled. Shadh-Del entered  and mounted  the  pulpit,  while the people stared.

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“Whatever is this? A Zoroastrian, with the Magian  hat on his head and a girdle tied about his waist!”
“Your  leader,”  said  Shadh-Del,  “has  made  me  his messenger to you. He said to me, ‘Shadh-Del, has the time  not  come  for  you  to  cut  the  Magian   girdle?’ Behold, now I cut it.”
And he took a knife and cut the girdle.
“He  also  said,”  he  went  on,  “  ‘Has  the  time  not come  for  you  to  put  off  the  Magian  hat  from  your head?’ Behold I have put it off.”
Then Shadh-Del said, “I bear witness that there is no god but God, and I bear witness that Mohammad is the Messenger  of God.”  He  went  on,  “The  shaikh  said, say, ‘He who was your shaikh  and your master  coun- selled you well, and it is a rule of discipleship to accept the  master’s counsel.  Behold,  Shadh-Del  has  cut  the outward girdle.  If you  wish  to  see me  at  the  resur- rection,  I solemnly  adjure  you,  every  one of you,  cut your inward  girdles.’”
Great  commotion arose  in the  congregation  when Shadh-Del  finished, and there followed amazing  spiri- tual manifestations.

On the day when Sahl was borne to the grave, many people  thronged  the streets.  Now  there  was a Jew of seventy years in Tostar;  when  he  heard  the noise and

sahl ibn  abd allah al-tostari    207

clamour,  he ran out to see what was happening. As the procession  reached him, he cried out,
“Men,  do you see what I see? Angels are descending from heaven and stroking  his bier with their wings!”
And  immediately   he  uttered   the  attestation   and became a Muslim.

One day Sahl was seated with his companions when a certain man passed by.
“This man holds a secret,” Sahl said.
By the time they looked,  the man had gone.
After Sahl’s death,  one of his disciples was sitting by his grave when the same man passed by.
“Sir,”  the disciple addressed  him,  “the  shaikh  who lies in this tomb  once said that  you hold  a  secret.  By that God who has vouchsafed  this secret to you, make me a demonstration.”
The man pointed  to Sahl’s grave. “Sahl, speak!”  he said.
A voice spoke loudly within the tomb.
“There  is no god but God alone, Who has no part- ner.”
“They say,” said the man, “that  whosoever believes that  there is no god but God, there is no darkness  for him in the grave. Is that true or no?”
Sahl cried from the grave, “It is true!”




Ma‘ruf al-Karkhi

Abu Mahfuz Ma‘ruf ibn Firuz al-Karkhi is said to have been born of Christian  parents;  the story of his conversion  to Islam by the Shi’ite imam ‘Ali ibn Musaal-Reza is generally discredited.  A prominent mystic of the Baghdad school, he died in 200 (815).

How Ma‘ruf-e Karkhi chose Islam
Ma‘ruf-e   Karkhi’s   mother   and   father   were   both Christians. When  they sent him to school,  his master said to him, “Say, God is the third of three.”
“No,”   answered  Ma‘ruf.  “On  the  contrary, He  is
God, the One.”
The teacher  beat him, but to no avail. One day the schoolmaster beat him severely, and Ma‘ruf ran away and could not be found.
“If only he would come back,” his mother and father said.  “Whichever  religion  he  wished  to  follow,  we would agree with him.”
Ma‘ruf came to Ali ibn Musa  al-Reza and accepted Islam at his hands. Some time passed. Then one day he made  his way home  and  knocked  at the  door  of his father’s house.
“Who is there?”  they asked. “Ma‘ruf,” he replied.

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“What  faith have you adopted?”
“The   religion   of  Mohammad,  the  Messenger   of
God.”
His    mother    and    father    immediately    became
Muslims.

After  that  Ma‘ruf  fell  in  with  Dawud-e   Ta’i  and underwent a  severe  discipline.  He  proved  himself  so devout  and practised  such austerities that  the fame of his steadfastness  was noised abroad.
Mohammad  ibn  Mansur   al-Tusi   relates   that   he encountered Ma‘ruf in Baghdad.
“I observed  a scar on his face. I said to him, ‘I was with you yesterday and did not notice this mark then. What is it?’ ‘Do not ask about  things that do not con- cern you,’ he replied. ‘Ask only about  matters  that are profitable  to you.’ ‘By the right of Him we worship,’  I pleaded,  ‘tell me.’
“Then  he  said,  ‘Last  night  I  was  praying,  and  I wished that  I might go to Mecca and circumambulate the Kaaba.  I approached the well of Zemzem to take a drink of water. My foot slipped, and my face struck the well. That was how I got this scar.’”

Once  Ma‘ruf  went  down  to the Tigris to make  his ablutions,  leaving  his  Koran  and  prayer  rug  in  the mosque.  An old woman  stole in and  took  them,  and

ma‘ruf al-karkhi     211

went  off  with  them.  Ma‘ruf  ran  after  her.  When he caught up with her he addressed  her, lowering his head so that his eyes might not fall on her.
“Have you a son who can chant the Koran?” “No,” she replied.
“Then  give me back  the  Koran.  You can  have  the prayer rug.”
The  woman  was  amazed  at  his  clemency,  and  set down both the Koran and the prayer rug.
“No,  take  the prayer  rug,”  repeated  Ma‘ruf.  “It  is lawfully yours.”
The woman hastened  away in shame and confusion.

Anecdotes  of Ma‘ruf
One day Ma‘ruf was walking along with a group of his followers  when a gang of youths came that way. They behaved outrageously all the way to the Tigris.
“Master,”  Ma‘ruf’s  companions  entreated   him, “pray  to Almighty  God  to drown  them  all,  that  the world may be rid of their foul presence.”
“Lift  up your  hands,” Ma‘ruf  bade  them.  Then  he prayed.
“O God, as Thou hast given them a happy life in this world,  even so grant them a happy life in the world to come.”
“Master, we know not the secret of this prayer,” said his companions in astonishment.

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“He  with  whom  I am speaking  knows  the  secret,” Ma‘ruf replied. “Wait a moment.  Even now this secret will be revealed.”
When the youths beheld the shaikh, they broke their lutes  and  poured  away  the  wine  they  were  drinking.  Trembling   overcame  them,  and  they  fell  before  the shaikh and repented.
“You  see,”  Ma‘ruf  remarked   to  his  companions. “Your  desire  has  been  fulfilled  completely,   without drowning  and without anyone suffering.”

Sari-e Saqati relates the following story.
One festival day I saw Ma‘ruf picking date stones. “What are you doing?”  I asked him.
“I saw this child weeping,” he told me. “I said, ‘Why are you crying?’ He told me, ‘I am an orphan. I have no father  and  no  mother.  The  other  children  have  new clothes, and I have none. They have nuts,  and I have none.’ So I am gathering  these stones to sell them and buy him nuts, then he may run along and play.”
“Let  me attend  to this  and  spare  you  the  care,”  I
said.
Sari went on, “I took the child and clothed him, and bought  him nuts, and made him happy. Immediately  I saw a great  light shine in my  heart, and  I was trans- formed.”

ma‘ruf al-karkhi     213

Ma‘ruf had an uncle who was governor  of the city. One  day  he  was  passing  some  wasteland  when  he observed Ma‘ruf sitting there eating bread.  Before him there was a dog, and Ma‘ruf was putting one morsel in his own mouth and then one in the dog’s.
“Are  you  not  ashamed  to eat  bread  with  a  dog?”
cried his uncle.
“It  is out  of shame  that  I am giving bread  to  the poor,”  replied Ma‘ruf.
Then he raised his head and called to a bird in the air. The bird flew down and perched on his hand, covering his head and eyes with his wings.
“Whosoever  is ashamed  before God,”  said Ma‘ruf, “every thing is ashamed  before him.”
At once his uncle was filled with confusion.

One day Ma‘ruf broke his ritual purity. Immediately  he made ablution  in sand.
“Why  look,”  they said to him. “Here  is the Tigris. Why are you making ablution  in the sand?”
“It can be,” he replied,  “that  I may be no more by the time I reach it.”

A crowd of Shi’ites were jostling one day at the door of Reza, and they broke Ma‘ruf-e Karkhi’s ribs, so that he fell seriously ill.

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Sari-e Saqati said to him, “Give me your last testa- ment.”
“When  I die,” said Ma‘ruf,  “take  my shirt and give it in alms. I desire to go out of this world naked,  even as I came naked from my mother’s womb.”
When he died, so great was the fame of his humani- ty  and   humility   that   men   of  all   religions,   Jews, Christians  and  Muslims  alike,  claimed  him as one of them.
His   servant    reported    that    Ma‘ruf    had   said, “Whoever is able to lift my bier from the ground,  I am of that people.”
The Christians  were unable.  The Jews were likewise unable  to lift it. Then the Muslims  came and lifted it. They prayed over him, and in that very place they com- mitted him to the ground.

Sari reported  the following.
After  Ma‘ruf  died  I saw  him  in a  dream.  He  was standing  beneath  the Throne  with his eyes wide open, like  one  stupefied  and  distraught. A  cry  came  from God to the angels.
“Who is this?”
“Lord   God,   Thou   knowest    best,”   the   angels answered.
“It is Ma‘ruf,” came the Command. “He has become dazzled and stupefied  by reason of Our love. Only by

ma‘ruf al-karkhi     215

seeing Us will he come to his senses. Only by meeting
Us will he rediscover himself.”




Sari al-Saqati

Abo ‘1-Hasan  Sari ibn al-Moghalles  al-Saqati, said to be a pupil of Ma’ruf al-Karkhi,  uncle of al-Jonaid,  was a prominent figure in the Baghdad circle of Sufis and attracted the opposition of Ahmad ibn Hanbal. A deal- er in secondhand goods, he died in 253 (867) at the age of 98.

The career of Sari-e Saqati
Sari-e Saqati was the first man to preach in Baghdad on the mystic truths and the Suh “unity”. Most of the Sufi shaikhs of Iraq were his disciples. He was the uncle of Jonaid  and the pupil of Ma’ruf-e  Karkhi;  he had also seen Habib-e  Ra’i.
To begin with he lived in Baghdad,  where he had a shop. Hanging  a curtain  over the door of his shop, he would  go in and pray, performing several rak’as daily in this fashion.
One  day a man  came  from  Mount  Lokam  to  visit him. Lifting aside the curtain,  he greeted him.
“Shaikh So-and-so from Mount  Lokam greets you,”
he said.
“He dwells in the mountains,” commented  Sari. “So his efforts amount  to nothing.  A man ought to be able to live in the midst of the market and be so preoccupied

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with God, that not for a single instant is he absent from
God.”
It is said that in his transactions he never looked for a  greater  profit  than  five per  cent.  Once  he  bought  almonds for sixty dinars. Almonds then became scarce. A broker  called on him.
“Sell then,”  said Sari.
“For how much?”  the broker asked. “Sixty-six dinars.”
“But  the price of almonds  today  is ninety  dinars,”
the broker objected.
“It is my rule not to take more than five per cent,” Sari replied. “I will not break my rule.”
“I also do not  think  it right  to sell your  goods  for less,” said the broker.
So the broker  did not sell, and Sari made no conces- sion.

To  start  with  Sari used to sell odds  and  ends.  One day the bazaars  of Baghdad caught fire.
“The bazaars  are on fire,” they told him. “Then I have also become free,” he remarked. Afterwards  an inspection was made and it was found
that  Sari’s shop  had  not  been  burned.  When  he  saw that, he gave all that he possessed to the poor and took up the Sufi way.

sari al-saqati    219

“What  was the beginning of your spiritual career?”
he was asked.
“One  day,”  he  said,  “Habib-e Ra’i  passed  by  my shop. I gave him something to give to the poor. ‘God be good  to  you,’  he  replied.  The  day  he  intoned   that prayer the world lost its attraction for me.
“The  following  day  Ma’ruf-e  Karkhi  came  along bringing an orphan  child. ‘Clothe this child,’ he begged me.  I clothed  the  child.  ‘May  God  make  the  world hateful  to  your  heart,  and  give  you  rest  from  this work,’ he cried.  I  gave up worldly  things  completely, thanks  to the blessing of Ma’ruf’s prayer.”

Sari and the courtier
One day Sari was preaching.  Now one of the caliph’s booncompanions  called   Ahmad-e   Yazid  the  Scribe came along in all his finery, surrounded by a crowd of servants and slaves.
“Wait while I listen to this fellow’s sermon,” he said. “We have been to a good few places where we should not have gone. I have had my fill of them.”
He entered and sat down in Sari’s audience.
“In all eighteen thousand worlds,”  Sari was saying, “there   is  nothing   weaker  than  man.  Yet  of  all  the species that God has created,  none is so disobedient to God’s command  as man.  If  he is good,  he is so good

220     sari al-saqati

that the very angels envy his estate; if he is bad, he is so bad that the Devil himself is ashamed  to associate with him. What a marvellous  thing is man, so weak, yet he disobeys God who is so mighty!”
These words were as an arrow sped from Sari’s bow into Ahmad’s soul. He wept so bitterly that he fainted. Then weeping he arose and returned  to his home. That night he ate nothing  and uttered not a word.
The  next  day  he came  on  foot  to Sari’s  assembly, anxious and pale of cheek. When the meeting ended, he went home. On the third day he came again, alone and on foot.  At the close of  the assembly  he came  up to Sari.
“Master,” he said, “your  words  have taken hold of me and made the world loathsome  to my heart. I want to give up the world and retire from the society of men. Expound  to me the way of the Travellers.”
“Which  path do you want?”  Sari asked him. “That of the Way, or that of the Law? That of the multitude, or that of the elect?”
“Expound both,”  the courtier  requested.
“The way of the multitude  is this,”  said Sari, “that you observe prayer  five times daily behind the imam, and that you give alms—if it be in money, half a dinar out of every twenty.  The way of the elect is this, that you thrust  the world behind you altogether  and do not concern  yourself  with  any of its trappings;  if you are

sari al-saqati    221

offered  it,  you  will not  accept  it.  These  are  the  two ways.”
The courtier  went  out  and set his face  towards the wilderness. Some days later an old woman with matted  hair and scratches on her cheeks came to Sari.
“Imam of the Muslims, I had a son, young and fresh of countenance,” she said. “One  day he came to your assembly laughing and strutting, and returned  weeping and wailing. Now it is some days since he has vanished, and  I do not  know  where  he is. My heart  is burning because he is parted  from me. Please do something  for me.”
Her desperate  pleading moved Sari to compassion. “Do not grieve,” he told her. “Only good will ensue.
When he comes back, I will inform you. He has aban- doned   the   world   and   turned    his   back   on   the worldlings.  He has become a true penitent.”
After a space, one night Ahmad reappeared.
“Go,  tell the old lady,” Sari bade his servant. Then he looked upon Ahmad.  His cheeks were pale, he was wasted,  the tall cypress of his stature was bent double. “Kindly  master,”  he cried, “forasmuch as you have guided me to peace and delivered me out of darkness,  now may God give you peace and bestow upon you joy
in both worlds.”
They  were  thus  conversing  when  Ahmad’s  mother  and his wife entered,  bringing  his little son. When his

222     sari al-saqati

mother’s  eyes fell upon  Ahmad  and she saw him in a state she had never seen before,  she cast herself upon his breast.  His wife too stood on one side of him wail- ing, whilst his son wept on the other.  A hubbub  went up from  them  all, and  Sari  too  burst  into  tears.  The child flung  himself at his father’s  feet. But despite  all their efforts to persuade him to return home, it was all to no effect.
“Imam  of  the  Muslims,”   Ahmad  protested,  “why did you tell them? They will be my undoing.”
“Your mother  entreated  me over and over, so at last
I consented  to tell her,” Sari replied. Ahmad prepared  to return to the desert.
“While  still alive, you have made me a widow and your child an orphan,” cried his wife. “When he asks for you, what am I to do? There is no other way. You must take the boy with you.”
“I will do that,”  Akmad answered.
He stripped  him of his fine clothes and flung a strip of goat’s wool over him. He put a wallet in his hand.
“Now be on your way,” he said.
“I cannot  stand  this,”  cried his wife when  she  saw the child in that state. She snatched  the boy to her.
“I give you charge of myself too,”  said Ahmad. “If you so desire, set me free.”
Then Ahmad returned  to the wilderness. Some years went by. Then one night,  at the time of the prayer  of sleeping, a man came to Sari’s hospice.

sari al-saqati    223

“Ahmad  sent me,” he said, entering.  “He says, ‘My affairs have come to a critical pass. Help me.’ “
Sari  went   out.   He  found   Ahmad   lying  on   the ground in a sepulchre,  on the point  of  expiring.  His tongue was  still  moving.  Sari  listened.  Ahmad  was saying,  “For  the  like of  this  let the  workers  work.” Sari raised his head from the dust,  wiped it, and laid it on his breast. Ahmad  opened  his eyes and saw the shaikh.
“Master, you  have  come  in  time,”  he  cried.  “My affairs have come to a critical pass.”
Then he ceased to breathe.  Weeping, Sari set out for the city to arrange his affairs. He saw a multitude  com- ing forth from the city.
“Where  are you going?” he asked.
“Do  you  not  know?”   they  replied.  “Last  night a voice was heard  from Heaven proclaiming, ‘Whoever desires to pray over an elect friend of God, say, Go to the cemetery of Shuniziya.’”

Anecdotes  of Sari
Jonaid reported  the following.
One day when I visited Sari I found him in tears. “What happened?” I asked.
“The  thought occurred   to  me,”  he  replied,  “that tonight I would hang out a jar for the water to cool. In a dream I saw a houri who told me, when I asked her who  she belonged  to, ‘I belong  to the man who  does

224     sari al-saqati

not hang out a jar for the water to get cool.’ The houri then dashed my jar to the ground.  See there!”
I saw the broken  shards.  For a long time the pieces still lay there.

The following was also reported  by Jonaid.
One night I had been sleeping peacefully, and when I awoke  my secret soul insisted that  I should  go to the mosque  of  Shuniziya.  I went  there,  and  saw  by  the mosque a person of terrible mien. I was afraid.
“Jonaid, are you afraid of me?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied.
“If you knew God as He should be known,” he said, “you would fear none but Him.”
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Iblis,”  he answered.
“I wanted  to see you,” I told him.
“The  moment  you thought of me, you forgot  God without being aware  of it,” he said. “What was your object in wanting  to see me?”
“I wanted  to ask whether  you had any power over the poor,”  I told him.
“No,”  he answered. “Why is that?”  I asked.
“When I want to trap them with worldly things, they flee to the next world,” he said. “And when I want to

sari al-saqati    225

trap them with the next world,  they flee to the Lord, and there I cannot  follow them.”
“If you cannot  master them, then do you see them?”  I enquired.
“I see them,”  he answered.  “When  they are at con- cert and  in ecstasy,  I see the source  of their  lamenta-  tion.”
With that he vanished. I entered the mosque,  to find
Sari there with his head on his knees.
“He  lies, that  enemy  of God,”  he said,  raising  his head. “They are too precious for Him to show them to Iblis.”

Sari had a sister. She asked for permission  to sweep his apartment, but he refused her.
“My life is not worthy of this,” he told her.
One day she entered and saw an old woman sweep- ing out his room.
“Brother,  you  did  not  give me permission  to  wait upon you. Now you have brought  one not of your kin- dred.”
“Sister, let not your heart be troubled,” Sari replied. “This is this lower world. She fell in love with me, and was  denied   me.  So  now  she   asked   permission   of Almighty  God  to be a  part of my life. She has  been given the task of sweeping my chamber.”




Ahmad ibn Khazruya

Abu Hamid Ahmad ibn Khazruya al-Balkhi, a prominent citizen of Balkh married  to the pious daughter  of the governor  of that  city, associated with   Hatem   al-Asamm   and   Abu   Yazid   al- Bestami.  He  visited  Nishapur, and  died  in 240 (864) at the age of 95.

Ahmad-e  Khazruya  and his wife
Ahmad-e Khazruya had a thousand disciples, every one of  whom  walked  on  the  water  and  flew  in  the  air. Ahmad  dressed  himself  in soldier’s  uniform.  Fatema, his  wife,  was  a  portent   in  the  Sufi way.  She was  a daughter  of the Prince of Balkh. Having repented,  she sent a messenger to Ahmad.
“Ask my hand from my father.”
Ahmad did not respond.  So she sent a second envoy. “Ahmad, I thought you were manlier than this. Be a
guide, not a highwayman!”
Ahmad  then  sent an emissary  to ask her father  for her  hand.  Her  father,  seeking  God’s  blessing  thereby, gave her to Ahmad.  Fatema  bade  farewell  to worldly concerns  and  found  repose  dwelling  in solitude  with Ahmad.
So matters  continued, until one day Ahmad resolved to  visit  Abu  Yazid.  Fatema  accompanied  him,  and

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when they entered  Abu Yazid’s presence she lifted her veil from  her face and  engaged  Abu Yazid in conver- sation.  Ahmad  was  dismayed  by this,  jealousy  over- mastering  his heart.
“Fatema, what  boldness  was this you showed with
Abu Yazid?” he cried.
“You are intimate with my natural  self. Abu Yazid is intimate  with my spiritual  way. You rouse my passion, but he brings me to God,” Fatema replied. “The proof of this is that he can dispense with my company, where- as you need me.”
Abu Yazid was bold with Fatema,  until one day his eyes fell upon her hands and he noticed that they were stained with henna.
“Fatema, why have you put on henna?”  he asked. “Abu Yazid, until now you have never looked at my
hands   and   noticed   the   henna,”    Fatema   replied. “Hitherto I have been at ease with you. Now that your eyes have fallen on my hands,  it is unlawful  for me to keep your company.”
“I have petitioned  God,”  said Abu Yazid, “to make women in my eyes no more noticeable than a wall, and so He has made them in my sight.”
After   that   Ahmad   and   Fatema   proceeded   to Nishapur,  where  they  were  warmly  received.  When Yahya-e  Mo’adh-e  Razi  passed  through  Nishapur on his way to Balkh, Ahmad wished to arrange a party for him. He consulted Fatema.

ahmad ibn  khazruya    229

“What  do we need for a party for Yahya?”  he asked her.
“So   many   oxen   and   sheep,”    she   told   him. “Accessories too—so many candles and so much attar  of roses. Besides all this, we need several asses.”
“Why,  what  is the reason  for killing asses?”  asked
Ahmad.
“When    a  nobleman  comes   to   dine,”   explained  Fatema, “the  dogs of the quarter  must  get a share  of the feast.”
Such  was  the  spirit  of  true  chivalry  that  imbued Fatema that Abu Yazid declared, “If any man desires to see a true man hidden in women’s clothes, let him look at Fatema.”

Ahmad-e  Khazruya  wrestles with his soul
Ahmad-e Khazruya  related the following.
For a long time I had repressed my carnal soul. Then one day a party set out for the wars, and a great desire to accompany  them arose within me. My soul remind- ed  me  of  a  number   of   Traditions  concerning   the rewards  in Heaven  for fighting in the cause of God. I was amazed.
“My  soul  is not  always  so eager  to obey,”  I  said. “Perhaps  this is because I always keep my soul fasting. My soul cannot  endure hunger  any longer, and wishes to break its fast.” So I said, “I do not break the fast on a journey.”

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“I quite agree,” replied my soul.
“Perhaps  my soul says that because I command it to pray by night. It wishes to go on this journey so as to sleep at night and find rest.” So I said, “I will keep you awake till dawn.”
“I quite agree,” said my soul.
I was still more  amazed.  Then  I reflected  that  per- haps my soul said that  because it wanted  to mix with people,  being  weary  of  solitude  and  hoping  to  find solace in company.  So I said, “Wherever  I carry you, I will put you down in a place apart and will not sit with other men.”
“I quite agree,” my soul repeated.
Reduced to impotence,  I had resort  to humble peti- tion to God, praying that He might disclose to me the cunning  machinations of my soul,  or  make  my soul confess. Then my soul spoke.
“Every day you slay me a hundred  times by oppos- ing my desires, and other men are not aware.  There at least in the wars I shall be killed once and for all and get deliverance,  and the report  will be noised through all the world, ‘Bravo, Ahmad-e  Khazruya!  They killed him, and he achieved the martyr’s crown.’”
“Glory  be to Him,”  I cried, “who  created a soul to be a hypocrite  while  alive, and  a  hypocrite  still after death.  It will  never  be a  true Muslim,  either  in this world or the next. I thought that  you were seeking to

ahmad ibn  khazruya    231

obey God. I did not realize that you were tying the gir- dle.”
Thereafter  I redoubled  my struggle against my soul.

Anecdotes  of Ahmad-e  Khazruya
A  thief  broke  into  Ahmad-e   Khazruya’s  house.  He searched  everywhere  but  could  not  find anything.  He was about  to leave  disappointed when  Ahmad  called out to him.
“Young fellow, take the bucket and draw water from the  well  and  purify   yourself,   then   attend  to  your prayers. When something comes I will give it to you, so that you shall not leave my house empty-handed.”
The youth  did as Ahmad  bade him. When daylight returned, a gentleman  brought  a  hundred  dinars  and gave them to the shaikh.
“Take this as a reward  for your night of prayer,” he said to the thief.
The thief suddenly  trembled  all over. He burst into tears.
“I had mistaken  the road,”  he cried. “I worked for
God just one night, and He has favoured  me so.” Repenting,  he returned  to God.  He refused  to  take
the gold, and became one of Ahmad’s disciples.

On  one  occasion  Ahmad  came  to  a  Sufi  hospice wearing ragged clothes. In Sufi fashion he devoted him-

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self wholly to spiritual  tasks. The brethren  of that hos- pice inwardly  doubted  his sincerity.
“He  does  not  belong  to  this  hospice,”  they  whis- pered to their shaikh.
Then one day Ahmad went to the well and his buck- et fell in. The other Sufis upbraided him. Ahmad came to the Superior.
“Recite  the  Fateba,  that  the  bucket  may  come  up from the well,” he begged.
“What  kind of demand  is this?” said the astounded shaikh.
“If you will not recite it,” said Ahmad, “then give me permission  to do so.”
The shaikh  gave him leave, and Ahmad  recited  the Fateba.  The  bucket  immediately  rose  to  the  surface. When the Superior saw this, he put his cap off his head. “Young man, who are you, that  my threshing-floor
is but chaff in comparison with your grain?” he asked. “Tell your companions,” answered Ahmad, “to look
on travellers with less disrespect.”

Once a man came to Ahmad-e Khazruya and said, “I am sick and poor.  Teach me a way whereby  I may be delivered out of this trial.”
“Write the name of each trade there is on a piece of paper,”  replied  Ahmad.  “Put  the  papers  in a  pouch, and bring them to me.”

ahmad ibn  khazruya    233

The man wrote down all the trades and brought the papers to Ahmad. Ahmad thrust  his hand in the pouch and drew out one paper. The name “thief”  was written  on it.
“You must become a thief,” he told the man.
The man was astounded. For all that he rose up and betook  himself to a gang of highway robbers.
“I have a fancy for this job,” he told them. “How do
I do it?”
“There  is one rule governing  this work,”  they  told him. “Whatever we order you to do, you must do it.” “I  will  do  exactly  as  you  order,”  he  assured  the
thieves.
He was with them for a number  of days. Then one day a caravan arrived. The thieves waylaid the caravan, and brought  to their new colleague one of the travellers who was a man of great wealth.
“Cut his throat,” they told him. The man hesitated.
“This  prince of the thieves has killed so many peo- ple. It is better,”  he said to himself, “that  I should slay him rather  than this merchant.”
“If you have come to do a job, you must do as we order,”  said the head of the gang. “Otherwise, go and find other work.”
“If I must  carry  out  orders,” said the man,  “I  will carry out God’s orders,  not this thief’s.”

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Drawing   his  sword,   he  let  the  merchant  go  and struck off the head of the prince of the thieves. Seeing this, the other bandits fled. The goods remained intact, and  the  merchant  escaped  with  his life. He  gave the man much gold and silver, so that he became indepen- dent.

Once a dervish was received by Ahmad in hospitali-  ty. Ahmad lit seventy candles.
“This   is  not   pleasing   to  me,”   said  the   dervish. “Making a fuss bears no relation  to Sufism.”
“Go then,”  said Ahmad, “and extinguish  every can- dle I have not lit for the sake of God.”
All that  night  the  dervish  was  pouring  water  and earth, but could not extinguish even one of the candles. “Why  so surprised?” Ahmad  addressed the dervish next morning.  “Come with me, and you will see things
really to wonder  at.”
They  went  off and  came  to the  door  of a  church. When the Christian  deacons saw Ahmad and his com- panions,  the archdeacon invited them to enter. He laid a table and bade Ahmad to eat.
“Friends  do not eat with foes,” Ahmad observed. “Offer  us Islam,” said the archdeacon.
So Ahmad offered them Islam, and seventy of his ret- inue  accepted  conversion.   That  night  Ahmad  had  a dream in which God spoke to him.

ahmad ibn  khazruya    235

“Ahmad, you lit seventy candles  for Me.  I  have  lit for you seventy hearts with the light of the Faith.”




Yahya  ibn Mo‘adh

Abu Zakariya’  Yahya ibn Mo‘adh  al-Razi, a dis- ciple of Ibn Karram,  left his native town of Rayy and  lived  for  a  time  in Balkh,  afterwards  pro- ceeding to Nishapur where he died in 258 (871). A certain number  of poems are attributed to him.

Yahya-e  Mo‘adh-e :Razi and his debt
Yahya-e  Mo‘adh  had  incurred  a  debt  of  a  hundred thousand dirhams.  He  had  borrowed  all this  money and  expended  it  on  gifts  to  holy  warriors, pilgrims, poor men, scholars and Sufis. His creditors  were press- ing him for repayment, and his heart was much preoc- cupied thereby.
One  night  he  dreamed  that  the  Prophet  spoke  to him.
“Yahya,  be  not  over-anxious, for  I am  pained  on account  of your anxiety.  Arise, go to Khorasan. There a   woman   has   set  aside   three   hundred   thousand dirhams  to meet the hundred  thousand you have bor- rowed.”
“Messenger  of God,”  cried  Yahya,  “which  is  that city, and who is that person?”  ‘
“Go from city to city and preach,”  said the Prophet. “Your  words  bring  healing  to men’s  hearts.  Just  as I

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have come to you in a dream,  so now I will visit that person in a dream.”
So Yahya came to Nishapur. They set up a pulpit for him before the cupola.
“Men  of Nishapur,” he cried, “I have come here at the  direction  of  the  Prophet,   on  him  be  peace.  The Prophet   declared,   ‘One  will  discharge  the  debt  you owe.’  I  have  a  debt  of  a  hundred   thousand  silver dirhams.   Know  that  always  my  words  possessed  a beauty,  but now this debt has come as a veil over that beauty.”
“I will give fifty thousand dirhams,” one man  vol- unteered.
“I will give forty thousand,” offered another.  Yahya declined to accept their gifts.
“The Master,  peace be upon him, indicated  one per- son,” he said.
He  then  began  to  preach.  On  the  first  day  seven corpses were removed from the gathering. Then, seeing that his debt was not discharged in Nishapur, Yahya set out  for  Balkh.  There  he was  detained  for  a while  to preach. He extolled riches over poverty. They gave him a hundred  thousand dirhams.  But his words  did not please a certain shaikh living in those parts, seeing that he had preferred  riches.
“May God not bless him!” he exclaimed.

yahya ibn  mo‘adh     239

When  Yahya  left Balkh he was set on by  highway- men and robbed  of all the money.
“That is the result of that shaikh’s prayer,” they said. So he proceeded to Herat,  some say by way of Merv. There he related his dream. The daughter of the Prince of Herat  was in the audience.  She sent him a message. “Imam,  cease worrying about the debt. The night the Prophet spoke to you in a dream,  he also spoke to me. I said, ‘Messenger of God, I will go to him.’ ‘No,’ the Prophet replied, ‘he will come to you.’ I have therefore  been waiting for you. When my father gave me in mar- riage, the things others  receive in copper  and brass he made  for me of silver and  gold.  The silver things  are worth three hundred thousand dirhams.  I bestow them on you.  But I  have one requirement, that  you preach
here for four days more.”
Yahya  held forth  for four  days longer.  On the  first day ten corpses were taken up, on the second twenty- five, on the third forty, and on the fourth seventy. Then on the fifth day Yahya  left  Herat  with  seven camels’ loads of silver. When he reached Balham, being accom- panied by his son, transporting all that wealth,  his son demurred.
“When  he enters  the town,  he must  not  give  it all immediately to the creditors and the poor and leave me with nothing  of it.”

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At dawn Yahya was communing  with God, his head bowed to the ground.  Suddenly a rock fell on his head. “Give the money to the creditors,” he cried. Then he
expired.
The  men  of the  Way lifted  him on their  shoulders  and bore him to Nishapur, where they laid him in the grave.

Yahya-e  Mo‘adh-e Razi and his brother
Yahya-e  Mo‘adh  had  a  brother  who  went  to  Mecca and took up residence near the Kaaba. From there he wrote a letter to Yahya.
“Three  things  I  desired.  Two  have  been  realized. Now one remains.  Pray to God that He may gracious- ly grant  that  one desire as well. I desired that  I might pass my last years in the noblest place on earth. Now I have come to the Sacred Territory,  which is the noblest of all places. My second desire was to have a servant to wait  on  me and  make  ready  my ablution  water.  God has given me a seemly servant-girl.  My third desire is to see you before I die. Pray to God that  he may vouch- safe this desire.”
Yahya replied to his brother  as follows.
“As for your saying that  you desired the best place on earth, be yourself the best of men, then live in what- ever place you wish. A place is noble by reason  of its inhabitants, not vice versa.

yahya ibn  mo‘adh     241

“Then  as for your saying that you desired a servant and  have now got one,  if you were  really  a true  and chivalrous man, you would never have made God’s ser- vant your own servant, detaining her from serving God and diverting her to serve yourself. You should yourself be a servant.  You desire to be a master, but mastership is an attribute of God. Servanthood is an attribute of man. God’s servant must be a servant. When God’s ser- vant desires a station  proper  to God, he makes himself a Pharaoh.
“Finally, as to your saying that you desire to see me, if  you  were  truly  aware  of  God,  you  would  never remember  me. So associate with God, that no memory of your brother  ever comes into your mind. There one must be ready to sacrifice one’s son; how much more a brother!  If  you have  found  Him,  what  am I to you? And if you have not found Him, what  profit  will you gain from me?”




Shah ibn Shoja‘

Abu ‘l-Fawares Shah ibn Shoja‘ al-Kermani,  said to be of a princely family and author  of works on Sufism which  have not  survived,  died sometime after 270 (884).

Shah-e Shoja‘-e Kermani and his children
Shah-e Shoja‘-e Kermani had one son. On his breast he had written in green the word Allah. In due course the boy,  overcome  by  the  wayward  impulses  of  youth, amused himself by strolling with lute in hand.  He had a fine voice, and as he sauntered  he would play the lute and sing tearful tunes.
One night, being drunk, he went out on to the streets playing his lute and singing songs. When he came to a certain quarter,  a bride newly come there rose up from her husband’s  side and came to look at him. The hus- band  thereupon  awoke  and,  missing  his  wife,  also stared at the spectacle.
“Boy,” he called to him, “has not the time come to repent?”
These words struck the youth to the heart. “It has come. It has come,” he cried.
Rending  his robe  and  breaking  his lute,  he  betook  himself  to  his room  and  for  forty  days  ate  nothing.  Then he emerged and took his way.

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“What  I was  vouchsafed  only after  forty  years, he has  been  granted  after  forty  days,”  remarked  Shah-e Shoja‘.

Shah-e  Shoja‘  also  had  a  daughter.  The  kings  of Kerman asked for her hand in marriage. He requested three days’ grace, and during those three days he went from mosque  to mosque,  till at last he caught  sight of a  dervish   praying   earnestly.   Shah-e   Shoja‘  waited patiently  until  he  had  finished  his  prayers,  then  he addressed him.
“Dervish,  do you have any family?” “No,” the dervish replied.
“Do you want a wife who can recite the Koran?” “Who is there who will give such a wife to me?” said
the dervish. “All I possess is three dirhams.”
“I will give you my daughter,” said Shah-e  Shoja‘. “Of  these  three  dirhams  you  possess,  spend  one  on bread and one on attar  of roses, then tie the marriage-  knot.”
They  agreed  accordingly.   That  same  night  Shah-e Shoja‘ despatched  his daughter  to his house.  Entering the dervish’s house, the girl saw some dry bread beside a jug of water.
“What  is this bread?”  she demanded.
“It  remained   over  from  yesterday.   I  kept  it  for tonight,” the dervish told her.

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Thereupon the girl made to leave the house.
“I knew,”  the dervish observed,  “that  the daughter of Shah-e Shoja‘ would  never be able to live with me and put up with my poverty.”
“Sir, it is not on account  of your lack of means that I  am  leaving  you,”   the  girl  replied.  “I  am  leaving because of your lack of faith and trust, in that you set aside bread from yesterday, not relying on God’s provi- sion for the morrow. At the same time I am surprised at my father. For twenty years he has kept me at home, always  saying  ‘I will give you  to a godfearing  man.’ Now he has given me to a fellow who does not rely on God for his daily bread.”
“Is  there  any  atonement for  this  sin?”  the  dervish asked.
“Yes,” said the girl. “The atonement is, that only one of the two  remains  in this house—myself,  or  the dry bread.”




Yusof  ibn al-Hosain

Abu Ya’qub Yusof ibn al-Hosain  al-Razi travelled extensively from his native Rayy, visiting Arabia and Egypt where he met and studied  under  Dho
‘l-Nun al-Mesri.  He returned  to preach  in Rayy, dying there in 304 (9I6).

The conversion of Yusof  ibn al-Hosain-e Razi
The  spiritual   career  of  Yusof  ibn  al-Hosain-e  Razi began  in the following  circumstances. He  was travel- ling in Arabia  with a company  of his fellows when he arrived  in the  territory   of  a  certain  tribe.  When  the daughter of the Prince of the Arabs caught sight of him, she fell madly in love with him, for he was possessed of great beauty. Waiting her opportunity, the girl sudden- ly flung herself before him. Trembling,  he left her and departed  to a more distant  tribe.
That  night  he  was  sleeping  with  his  head  on  his knees, when he dreamed  he was in a place the like of which he had never seen. One was seated on a throne  there in kingly wise, surrounded by a company  clad in green  robes.  Wishful  to  know  who  they  might  be, Yusof edged his way towards  them. They made way for him, treating  him with much respect.
“Who are you?” he enquired.

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“We are angels,” they replied, “and he who is seated on the throne there is Joseph, upon whom be peace. He has come to pay a visit to Yusof ibn al-Hosain.”
Let Yusof tell the rest of the story in his own words. Overcome  with  weeping,  I cried,  “Who  am I, that
God’s prophet should come to visit me?”
Thereupon Joseph,  upon  him  be peace,  descended from his throne,  took me in his embrace, and seated me on the throne.
“Prophet of  God,”   I  cried,  “who  am  I  that  you should be so gracious to me?”
“In the hour,”  Joseph answered,  “when  that lovely girl flung herself before you, and you committed  your- self to God and sought  His protection, God displayed you to me and the angels. God said, ‘See, Joseph! You are  that  Joseph  who  inclined  after  Zoleikha  only  to repel her. He is that  Joseph  who  did not  incline  after the daughter  of the King of the Arabs, and fled.’ God Himself  sent  me  with  these  angels  to  visit  you.  He sends you the good tidings that you are of God’s elect.” Then Joseph added, “In every age there is a portent. The portent  in this age is Dho ‘l-Nun-e Mesri. He has been vouchsafed  the Greatest  Name  of God. Go unto
him.”
When Yusof awoke (the narrative  continues)  he was filled with a great ache. A powerful  yearning overmas- tered  him,  and  he  turned   his  face  towards   Egypt,

yusof ibn  al-hosain    249

desirous to know the Great Name of God. Arriving at the mosque  of Dho ‘l-Nun, he spoke the greeting and sat  down.   Dho  ‘l-Nun  returned  his  greeting.  For  a whole year Yusof sat in a remote corner of the mosque, not daring to question  Dho ‘l-Nun.
After  a  year  Dho  ‘l-Nun  asked,  “Whence   is  this young man come?”
“From Rayy,” he replied.
For  another   year  Dho  ‘l-Nun  said  nothing,  and
Yusof continued  to occupy the same corner.
At the  end  of the  second  year  Dho  ‘l-Nun  asked, “On what errand  has this young man come?”
“To visit you,” he replied.
For  another   year  Dho  ‘l-Nun  was  silent.  Then  he asked, “Does he require anything?”
“I have  come  that  you may teach  me the  Greatest
Name,”  Yusof replied.
For a further  year Dho ‘l-Nun held his peace. Then he handed  Yusof a wooden  vessel covered over.
“Cross  the River  Nile,”  he told  him.  “In  a  certain place  there  is  an  elder.  Give  this  bowl  to him,  and remember  whatever  he tells you.”
Yusof  took  the  bowl  and  set  forth.  When  he  had gone a part of the way, a temptation assailed him.
“What  is this moving about  in this bowl?”
He uncovered  the bowl.  A mouse  jumped  out  and ran away. Yusof was filled with bewilderment.

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“Where am I to go? Shall I go to this elder, or return  to Dho ‘l-Nun?”
Finally he proceeded to the elder, carrying the empty bowl. When the elder beheld him, he smiled.
“You asked him for God’s Great Name?”  he asked. “Yes!” Yusof replied.
“Dho  ‘l-Nun saw your impatience,  and gave you a mouse,”  the elder said. “Glory  be to God! You cannot  look  after  a  mouse.  How  then  will  you  keep  the Greatest  Name?”
Put to shame, Yusof returned  to the mosque of Dho
‘l-Nun.
“Yesterday I asked leave of God seven times to teach you the Greatest  Name,”  Dho ‘l-Nun told him. “God  did not give permission,  meaning that the time is not yet.  Then  God  commanded  me,  ‘Make  trial  of  him with a mouse.’ When I made trial of you, this is what happened. Now return  to your own city, till the prop- er time comes.”
“Before   I  leave,   give  me  a   testament,”   Yusof begged.
“I will give you three testaments,” said Dho ‘l-Nun, “one great, one middling, and one small. The great tes- tament  is this, that  you forget all that  you have read, and wash away all that  you have written,  so that  the veil may be lifted.”

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“This I cannot  do,” said Yusof.
“The middling  testament  is this, that  you forget me and tell my name  to no man,”  said Dho  ‘l-Nun.  “To say  that   my  monitor   declared   this   or  my  shaikh ordered  that is all self-praise.”
“This too I cannot  do,” said Yusof.
“The small testament  is this,” said Dho ‘l-Nun, “that you counsel men and call them to God.”
“This I can do, God willing,”  said Yusof.
“On condition, however,”  Dho ‘l-Nun added, “that in counselling men you do not have men in sight.”
“So I will do,” Yusof promised.
Then he proceeded  to Rayy. Now  he came from the nobility of Rayy, and the citizens came out to welcome him. When he began his preaching,  he expounded the mystic  realities.  The people,  accustomed to  exoteric doctrine, rose up in anger against him, for in that time only formal learning was current. Yusof fell into disre- pute,  to  such  an  extent  that  no  one  came  to  his lec- tures.
One day he turned  up to preach as usual, but seeing no one in the hall he was about to return home. At that moment  an old woman  called to him.
“Did  you  not  promise  Dho  ‘l-Nun  that  in  coun- selling  men  you  would  not  have  them  in  sight,  and would speak only for God’s sake?”

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Astonished  at  her  words,  Yusof  began  to  preach. Thereafter he continued  so for fifty years, whether any- one was present or no.

Yusof  ibn al-Hosain and Ebrahim-e  Khauwas Ebrahim-e Khauwas  became a disciple of Yusof ibn al- Hosain.  Through  the blessing of his companionship he attained  to such remarkable spiritual advancement that he would  travel  through  the desert  without provision  and  mount.  It  is to  him  that  we  owe  the  following story.

One night (Ebrahim said) I heard a voice which said to me, “Go and say to Yusof-e Hosain,  ‘You are of the rejected’.” So grievous were these words for me to hear, that  if a  mountain had  been  flung  on  my head  that would  have  been  easier  to  bear  than  that  I  should repeat what I had heard to him.
Next  night  I heard  in even  more  menacing  tones, “Say  to him,  ‘You are of the  rejected’.”  Rising  up,  I washed and begged God’s forgiveness, and sat in med- itation till the third night, when the same voice came to me. “Say to him, ‘You are of the rejected’. If you do not deliver this message, you will receive such a blow that you will not rise again.”
So full of sorrow  I rose up and went to the mosque, where I saw Yusof seated in the prayer-niche.

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“Do you remember  any verse?” he asked me when he saw me.
“I  do,”  I  replied.  I  recollected  a  verse  in  Arabic which  I  recited  to  him.  Delighted,   he  rose  up  and remained on his feet for a long while, tears as if flecked with blood streaming from his eyes. Then he turned  to me.
“Since first light till now,” he said, “they have been reciting the Koran  before me, and not one drop came to my eyes. Now through  that  single verse you spoke such  a state  has  manifested  —a  veritable  torrent  has flowed from my eyes. Men are right when they say I am a heretic. The voice of the Divine Presence speaks truly, that I am of the rejected. A man who is so affected by a verse of poetry, while the Koran makes no impression whatever  upon him—he is surely rejected.”
I was bewildered by what I saw and heard. My belief in him was shaken.  Afraid,  I rose up and set my face towards  the desert. By chance I fell in with Khezr, who addressed  me.
“Yusof-e Hosain has received a blow from God. But his place is in the topmost  heights of Heaven. A man must stride so far and manfully upon the path of God, that  even if the hand  of rejection  is struck  against  his forehead,   yet  his  place  is in  the  topmost   heights  of Heaven.  If he falls on this path  from kingship,  yet he will not fall from the rank of minister.”

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Yusof  ibn al-Hosain and the handmaiden
A  certain   merchant  in  Nishapur  bought   a  Turkish handmaiden for a thousand dinars.  He had a creditor  living in another  town,  and wanted to go in haste and recover his money from him. In Nishapur there was no one in whom he trusted  sufficiently to commit the girl to his keeping. So he called on Abu ‘Othman-e  Hiri and explained   his  predicament   to  him.   At  first   Abu
‘Othman   refused,   but   the  merchant  implored   him earnestly.
“Admit her into your harem. I will return as soon as possible.”
So finally he consented,  and the merchant departed. Involuntarily Abu ‘Othman’s  glance fell upon  the girl and he fell uncontrollably in love with her. Not know- ing what  to do,  he  rose  up  and  went  to consult  his teacher Abu Hafs-e Haddad.
“You  must  go  to  Rayy,  to  consult  Yusof  ibn  al- Hosain,” Abu Hafs told him.
Abu ‘Othman  set out at once towards  Iraq. When he reached  Rayy he enquired  where Yusof-e Hosain  was living.
“What  have you to do with that  damned heretic?” they asked  him.  “You  look  a religious  man  yourself. His society will be bad for you.”
They  said  many  such  things  to  him,  so  that  Abu
‘Othman  regretted  having come there and returned to
Nishapur.

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“Did you see Yusof-e Hosain?” Abu Hafs asked him. “No,” he replied.
“Why not?”
“I heard  that  he was  such  and  such  a man,”  Abu
‘Othman  related  what  the  people  of  Rayy  had  told him. “So I did not go to him, but returned.”
“Go back and see him,” Abu Hafs urged.
Abu ‘Othman  returned  to Rayy and again asked for Yusof’s house. The people of Rayy told him a hundred times as much as before.
“But   I  have   important  business   with   him,”   he explained.
So at last they indicated  the way to him.  When  he reached Yusof’s house, he saw an old man seated there. A beardless  and handsome  boy was before him, laying before him a bowl and a goblet. Light streamed from his face. Abu ‘Othman entered and spoke the greeting and sat  down.  Shaikh  Yusof  began  to speak,  and  uttered such lofty words that Abu ‘Othman  was amazed.
“For   God’s  sake,   master,”   he  cried,   “with   such words  and such contemplating, what  is this state that is on you? Wine, and a beardless boy?”
“This beardless  boy is my son, and very few people know that he is my son,” Yusof replied. “I am teaching him the Koran.  A bowl  happened  to  be thrown  into this dustbin.  I picked it out and washed it and filled it with water, so that anyone who wished for water might drink,  for I had no pitcher.”

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“For God’s sake,”  Abu ‘Othman  repeated, “why do you act so that men say of you what they say?”
“I do it for this reason,” Yusof answered, “so that no one may send a Turkish handmaiden to my house as a confidant.”
When Abu ‘Othman  heard these words he fell down at  the  shaikh’s  feet.  He  realized  that  the  man  had attained  a high degree.


Abu  Hafs al-Haddad

Abu Hafs ‘Amr ibn Salama al-Haddad, a black- smith  of Nishapur, visited Baghdad  and  met al- Jonaid who admired his devotion; he also encountered al-Shebli  and  other  mystics  of  the Baghdad school. Returning  to Nishapur, he resumed his trade and died there in 265 (879).

How Abu Hafs-e Haddad  was converted
As a young man Abu Hafs-e Haddad fell in love with a serving wench so desperately  that he could not com- pose himself.
“There  is a Jewish magician living in the suburbs of Nishapur,” his friends told him. “He will prescribe for you.”
Abu  Hafs  went  and  described  his situation  to  the
Jew.
“You must not pray for forty days, or obey God in any way, or do any good deed,”  the Jew advised him. “You should not mention God’s name on your tongue, or form any good  intentions whatsoever. Then  I may devise something  by magic to procure  you your goal.” Abu  Hafs  conducted  himself  accordingly  for  forty days. Then the Jew composed  the talisman, but with-
out success.

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“Without  doubt   some  good  has  come  into  being through  you,”  the Jew said.  “Otherwise I  am certain that this object would have been achieved.”
“I have done nothing,” Abu Hafs assured him. “The only thing I can think of is that as I came here I kicked a stone out of the way so that  no one might trip over it.”
“Do not vex the God,”  said the Jew, “whose com- mand you gainsay for forty days, and who of His gen- erosity suffered not to go to waste even this little trou- ble you took.”
These words kindled a fire within Abu Hafs’s heart. So strong was it, that he was converted  at the hands of the Jew.
He continued  to practise  his trade as a blacksmith, concealing  the  miracle  that  had  happened   to  him. Every day he earned  one  dinar.  At night  he gave his earnings  to the  poor,  and  dropped  money  into  wid- ows’ letter-boxes  surreptitiously. Then at the time of the prayer  of sleep he would  go begging,  and  break his  fast  on  that.   Sometimes  he  would  gather   the remains of leeks or the like which people had washed in the public basin and make his meal of them.
So he continued  for a time. Then one day a blind man passed through  the market  reciting this verse: “I take refuge with God from the accursed Satan. In the Name of God, the Merciful,  the Compassionate. Yet

abu  hafs al-haddad    259

there  would  appear   to  them  from  God  that  they never reckoned  with.”  This verse occupied his heart, and something  came  upon  him so  that  he lost  con- sciousness.  In place of the  tongs  he put  his hand  in the furnace  and pulled out the red-hot  iron.  He laid it on the anvil, and the apprentices  set to hammering it. They then noticed he was turning the iron with his hand.
“Master, what ever is this?” they cried. “Strike!”  he shouted  at the apprentices.
“Master, where  shall  we strike?”  they asked.  “The iron is clean.”
Thereupon Abu Hafs came to his senses. He saw the red-hot iron in his hand and heard the cry, “It is clean. Where  shall  we  strike?”   Flinging  the  iron  from  his hand,  he abandoned his shop for any to pillage.
“I desired so long deliberately  to give up this work, and failed, until this event came upon me and forcibly wrested me from myself. Though I kept trying to aban- don  this work,  all was to no  purpose  until  the work abandoned me.”
And he applied himself to severe self-discipline, and took up the life of solitude and meditation.

Abu Hafs-e Haddad  and Jonaid
Abu  Hafs  resolved  to make  the  pilgrimage.  Now he was an illiterate and did not understand Arabic. When

260     abu  hafs al-haddad

he  came  to  Baghdad,   the  Sufi  disciples   whispered together.
“It is a great disgrace that  the Shaikh of Shaikhs of Khorasan  should  require  an interpreter to understand their language.”
Jonaid  sent  his disciples  out  to welcome  him.  Abu Hafs knew what “our companions” were thinking,  and at once he began to speak in Arabic so that the people of Baghdad were amazed at the purity of his speech. A number  of the great scholars gathered  before him and questioned  him on self-sacrificing love.
“You are able to express yourselves. You say,” Abu
Hafs replied.
“As I see it,” said Jonaid,  “true  self-sacrifice means that  you should  not regard yourself as self-sacrificing, and that you should not attribute to yourself whatever  you may have done.”
“Excellent,” commented  Abu Hafs. “But as I see it, self sacrifice means acting with justice towards  others, and not seeking justice for oneself.”
“Act on that, our companions,” said Jonaid.
“To act rightly requires  more than words,” retorted
Abu Hafs.
“Rise  up,  our  companions,”  Jonaid  commanded when  he heard  this reply.  “Abu  Hafs exceeds in self- sacrifice Adam and all his seed.”

abu  hafs al-haddad    261

Abu Hafs kept his companions in great awe and dis- cipline. No disciple dared to be seated before him or to cast his glance on him. They always stood before him, and  would  not  sit without his  command. He himself sat in their midst like a sultan.
“You have taught your companions the manners due to a sultan,”  Jonaid observed.
“You  can  only  see the  superscription,” Abu  Hafs replied. “But from the address it is possible to indicate what is in the letter.’’
Then  Abu  Hafs  said,  “Order them  to make  broth  and halwa.”
Jonaid  directed  one of his disciples  to make  them. When he brought  the dishes, Abu Hafs proceeded.
“Call  a porter  and  put  them  on his head.  Let  him carry them until he is tired out. Then, whatever  house he has reached, let him call out, and whoever comes to the door, let him give them to him.”
The  porter  obeyed  these  instructions. He  went  on until he felt tired and could go no farther.  Setting the dishes down by the door of a house, he called out. The owner of the house, an elder, replied.
“If you have brought  broth  and halwa,  I will open the door.”
“I have,” replied the porter.
“Bring them in,” said the elder, opening the door.

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“I was amazed,”  the porter  related.  “I asked the old man, ‘What is going on? How did you know that I had brought   broth  and  halwa?’  The  old  man  answered,
‘Last night when I was at my prayers, the thought came into  my mind  that  my children  had  been  begging me for them for a long time. I know that my prayer has not been in vain.’ “

There was a disciple who waited on Abu Hafs with great politeness.  Jonaid  gazed at him many times, for his conduct  delighted him.
“How  many years has he been in your service?” he asked Abu Hafs.
“Ten years,”  Abu Hafs replied.
“He is perfect in his manners and wonderfully digni- fied. An admirable  young man,”  Jonaid observed.
“Yes,” Abu Hafs  said.  “Seventeen  thousand  dinars he has expended  on our cause, and borrowed another seventeen thousand and spent them as well. And yet he dares not address one question  to us.”
Abu Hafs then set out into the desert.  He gave the following account  of what happened  to him there.
In the desert  (he said) I saw Abu Torab.  I had  not eaten  for sixteen  days.  I approached a pool  to drink, and fell to meditating.
“What  has halted you here?” asked Abu Torab.

abu  hafs al-haddad    263

“I was waiting to see as between knowledge and cer- tainty, which would prevail, that I might adopt the vic- tor,”  I replied.  “If  the  victory  went to  knowledge,  I would  drink;  if certainty  prevailed,  I would  continue  on my way.”
“You are certainly advancing,” said Abu Torab.

When Abu Hafs arrived in Mecca he saw a throng of poor and destitute pilgrims there. He desired to bestow something  on  them,  and  became  extremely  agitated. He was so overcome by his feelings that he picked up a stone and cried,
“By Thy majesty, if Thou dost not give me something
I will break all the lamps in the mosque.”
He then proceeded  to circle the Kaaba. Immediately  a man came up to him and gave him a purse of gold, which he spent on the poor.

Having  completed   the  pilgrimage,   he  returned  to Baghdad.  There Jonaid’s companions went out to wel- come him.
“What  present have you brought  us from your jour- ney?” asked Jonaid.
“Perhaps one of ‘our companions’  is unable to live as he should,”  replied Abu Hafs. “This that I have to say can be my offering. If you observe in a brother  a lack

264     abu  hafs al-haddad

of good  manners,  discover  in yourself  an  excuse for him and excuse him to yourself accordingly.  If the dust of misunderstanding does  not  rise as a result  of that excuse, and you are in the right,  discover some better excuse and excuse him to yourself again. If still the dust does not rise, go on inventing  another  excuse, even to forty times. If still the dust does not rise, and you are in the right, and those forty excuses do not measure up to the fault he has committed, then sit down  and say to yourself, ‘What a stubborn and unenlightened soul you are! What an opinionated and unmannerly and boorish  fellow  you are!  Your  brother  offers forty  excuses for his offence, and you do not accept them and continue in the same course!  I have washed  my  hands  of you. You know what you want; do as you please.’ “
Jonaid  marvelled  at  these  words.  “Who  can  have such strength?” he asked himself.

Abu Hafs and Shebli
Shebli gave hospitality  to Abu Hafs  for four  months.  Every day he produced  a different kind of dish and sev- eral sorts of sweetmeat.
When Abu Hafs came to bid him farewell,  he said, “Shebli,  when you come to Nishapur I will teach you true entertainment and generosity.”
“Why, what have I done, Abu Hafs?”  asked Shebli.

abu  hafs al-haddad    265

“You took too great pains.  Extravagance is not the same as generosity,”  said Abu Hafs. “One should treat a guest  exactly  as oneself.  That  way,  his coming  will not be a burden  to you, and his departure will not be an occasion  of gladness.  When you go to extravagant lengths,  his  coming  is  burdensome  to  you  and  his departure a relief. No man who feels like that towards a guest is truly generous.”
When Shebli came to Nishapur he stayed with Abu Hafs. Forty persons were in the party, and at night Abu Hafs lit forty-one  lamps.
“Did you not say one should not act extravagantly?”
remarked  Shebli.
“Then  get  up  and  put  them  out,”  answered  Abu
Hafs.
Shebli  got  up,  but  for  all his efforts  he could  not extinguish  more than one lamp.
“Shaikh,  how is this?” he asked.
“You were forty persons, emissaries of God. For the guest is an emissary of God.  Naturally I lit a lamp in the name of each one, for the sake of God, and one for myself.  Those  forty  which  I  lit  for  God  you  were unable to put out, but the one lit for myself you extin- guished.  All that  you  did in Baghdad  you did for my sake; I did what I did for God’s sake. So the former was extravagance, the latter not.”




Abo ‘l-Qasem al-Jonaid

Abo ‘l-Qasem al-Jonaid ibn Mohammad al- Khazzaz al-Nehawandi, son of a glass-merchant and  nephew  of Sari al-Saqati,  close associate  of al-Mohasebi, was  the  greatest  exponent of  the
‘sober’ school  of Sufism and  elaborated a theo- sophical  doctrine   which  determined   the  whole course of orthodox mysticism in Islam. He expounded his theories  in his teachings,  and in a series of letters written to various contemporaries which have survived. The head of a large and influential   school,  he  died  in  Baghdad  in  298 (910).

The early years of Jonaid-e Baghdadi
From childhood  Jonaid  was given to spiritual sorrow, and was an earnest  seeker after God, well disciplined, thoughtful and quick of understanding and of a pene- trating  intuition.
One  day he returned  home  from school  to  find  his father in tears.
“What  happened?” he enquired.
“I  took  something  by  way  of  alms  to  your  uncle Sari,”  his father  told him. “He  would  not accept it. I am weeping because I have given my whole life to save

268     abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid

these five dirhams,  and then  this offering  is not  meet for one of the friends of God to receive.”
“Give me the money, and I will give it to him. That way he may take it,” said Jonaid.
His father  gave him the dirhams,  and  Jonaid  went off.  Coming  to his uncle’s house,  he  knocked  at  the door.
“Who is that?”  came a voice.
“Jonaid,” answered  the  boy.  “Open  the  door  and take this due offering of alms.”
“I will not take it,” cried Sari.
“I beg you to take it, by the God who has dealt so graciously with you and so justly with my father,” cried Jonaid.
“Jonaid, how did God deal graciously  with me and justly with him?” demanded  Sari.
“God  was  gracious  to  you,”   Jonaid  replied,  “in vouchsafing you poverty. To my father God was just in occupying him with worldly affairs. You are at liberty to accept or reject as you please. He, whether  he likes it or not, must convey the due alms on his possessions to the one deserving of it.”
This answer pleased Sari.
“Child,  before  I accept  these alms,  I have  accepted you.”
So saying, Sari opened  the door  and took the alms. He assigned to Jonaid a special place in his heart.

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    269

Jonaid was only seven years old when Sari took him on the pilgrimage.  In the Mosque  of the Sanctuary  the question  of thankfulness was  being discussed  by four hundred  shaikhs.   Each  shaikh   expounded  his  own view.
“You also say something,” Sari prompted Jonaid. “Thankfulness,”  said   Jonaid,   “means   that   you
should not disobey God by means of the favour which He has  bestowed  on you,  nor  make  of  His  favour  a source of disobedience.”
“Well said,  O  consolation of true  believers,”  cried the four hundred. They were unanimous that a better definition  could not be devised.
“Boy,” said Sari, “it will soon come to pass that your special gift from God will be your tongue.”
Jonaid wept when he heard his uncle say this. “Where  did you acquire this?” Sari demanded. “From sitting with you,” Jonaid replied.

Jonaid then returned  to Baghdad,  and took up sell- ing glasses.  Every day  he would  go to the  shop  and draw down the blind and perform four hundred  rak’as. After a time he abandoned the shop and withdrew  to a room in the porch of Sari’s house, where he busied him- self with the guardianship of his heart. He unrolled the prayer rug of meticulous watchfulness, that no thought of anything  but God should pass through  his mind.

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Jonaid put to the proof
For forty years Jonaid persevered in his mystic course. For  thirty  years  he would  perform  the  prayer  before sleeping, then stand on his feet repeating  “Allah”  until dawn, saying the dawn prayer with the ablution  he had made the previous night.
“After  forty years had gone by,” he said, “the con- ceit   arose   in  me   that   I  had   attained   my   goal. Immediately   a  voice  out  of  Heaven  spoke  to  me.
‘Jonaid,’ the voice cried, ‘the time has come for Me to show  you  the  loop  of  your  Magian  girdle.’  When  I heard  these words  I exclaimed, ‘O God,  what  sin has Jonaid committed?’  ‘Do you look for a more grievous sin than this,’ the voice replied, ‘that you exist?’ “
Jonaid sighed and lowered his head.
“He  who  is not  worthy  of union,” he  murmured, “all his good works are but sins.”
He  continued   to  sit  in  his  room,   crying  “Allah, Allah” all night. The long tongues of slander were shot out against  him, and his conduct  was reported  to the caliph.
“He  cannot  be inhibited  without any  proof,”  said the caliph.
“Many people are being seduced by his words,” they stated.
Now  the  caliph  possessed  a  handmaiden of  unri- valled beauty. He had purchased  her for three thousand

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    271

dinars,  and  loved  her dearly.  The caliph  commanded that she should be arrayed in fine raiment  and precious jewels.
“Go  to such  a  place,”  she was  instructed.  “Stand before  Jonaid  and  unveil your  face, and  display  your jewels and raiment  to him. Say to him, ‘I am possessed of  much  wealth,  and  my  heart  has  grown  weary  of worldly  affairs.  I have come so that  you may propose  to me, that in your society I may devote myself to the service  of God.  My heart  finds repose  in no one but you.’ Display yourself to him. Unveil, and strive your utmost  to persuade  him.”
She was  despatched  to Jonaid  with  a servant.  The handmaiden came  before  Jonaid  and  carried out  her instructions  to   the   letter   and   more.   Involuntarily Jonaid’s  glance fell upon  her. He remained  silent and made no answer. She repeated  her story.  Jonaid  hung his head; then he raised his head.
“Ah,”  he exclaimed,  and breathed  on the girl.  The girl immediately  fell to the ground and expired.
The  servant  who  had  accompanied returned to the caliph  and  reported  what   had  transpired.  Fire  fell upon the caliph’s soul, and he repented  of what he had done.
“He who acts towards  others as he should not, sees what he ought not to see,” he observed.
Rising up, he proceeded  to call on Jonaid.

272     abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid

“Such a man one cannot  summon  to attend  on one- self,” he commented. “O master,  how did  your  heart allow  it,”  asked  the  caliph,  “to  consume  so  fair  a form?”
“Prince of the Believers,” Jonaid replied, “your com- passion  for the faithful  was so great, that you desired to cast  to the  winds  my forty  years  of discipline,  of keeping vigil and self mortification. Yet who am I in all this? Do not, that you may not be done to!”
After   that   Jonaid’s   affairs   prospered.  His   fame reached  to all parts  of the world.  However much  he was  persecuted,  his repute  increased  a  thousandfold. He began to preach. As he explained  once, “I did not preach to the public until thirty of the great saints indi- cated  to  me that  it was proper  for me to call men to God.”
“For thirty  years I sat watching  over my heart,” he said. “Then  for ten years my heart watched  over me. Now it is twenty years that I know nothing of my heart and my heart knows nothing  of me.”
“For  thirty  years,”  he said again,  “God  has spoken with Jonaid by the tongue of Jonaid, Jonaid not being there at all, and men were not aware.”

Jonaid preaches
When  Jonaid’s  tongue   was  loosened   to  utter  great words,  Sari-e Saqati urged him that  it was his duty to

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    273

preach  in public.  Jonaid  was hesitant,  not  desiring to do so.
“While  the master  is there,  it is not  seemly for  the disciple to preach,”  he demurred.
Then one night Jonaid saw the Prophet  in a dream. “Preach,” the Prophet  said.
Next morning  he arose to go and report  to Sari, but he found Sari standing  at the door.
“Hitherto,” Sari told him, “you were inhibited, wait- ing for  others  to tell you  to preach.  Now  you  must speak, because your words have been made the means of a  whole  world’s  salvation.  You  would  not  speak when the  disciples  asked  you  to.  You  did  not  speak when the shaikhs of Baghdad interceded with you. You did not speak at my urging. Now that the Prophet  has commanded you, you must speak.”
“God  forgive  me,”  Jonaid  replied.  “How  did  you know that I saw the Prophet  in a dream?”
“I saw God in a dream,” Sari explained.  “God said,
‘I have sent the Messenger to tell Jonaid to preach from the pulpit.’ “
“I will preach then,” consented Jonaid. “Only on one condition, that it be to no more than forty persons.”
One  day  Jonaid  was  preaching,  and  forty  persons were present.  Of these  eighteen  expired,  and  twenty- two fell to the ground unconscious. They were lifted up and carried to their homes.

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Another day Jonaid was preaching  in the cathedral. In the congregation there was a Christian  lad, but no one  knew  that  he  was  a  Christian. He  approached Jonaid  and said, “According  to the Prophet’s  saying,
‘Beware of the insight  of the believer,  for he  sees  by the light of God.’ “
“The pronouncement is,” replied Jonaid, “that you should  become a Muslim and cut your Christian  gir- dle, for this is the time of Muslimdom.”
The boy immediately  became a Muslim.
After Jonaid  had preached  a number  of times,  the people cried out against  him. He gave up preaching,  and retired  to his room.  For all that he was urged to resume, he would not do so.
“I am content,” he replied.  ‘I cannot  contrive  my own destruction.”
Some time later he mounted  the pulpit and began to preach without any prompting.
“What   was  the  inner  wisdom  in  this?”  he  was asked.
“I came upon  a Tradition,” he replied, “according to  which   the  Prophet   said,   ‘In   the   last  days  the spokesman  of the people will be he that  is the worst of them. He will preach to them.’ I know that I am the worst  of the people. I am preaching  because of what the  Prophet   said,   so  that   I  may  not   oppose   his words.”

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    275

Anecdotes  of Jonaid
Once Jonaid’s eye pained him, and he sent for the doc- tor.
“If your eye is throbbing, do not let any water get to it,” the doctor  advised.
When he had gone, Jonaid  performed  his ablutions and prayed,  and then went to sleep. When he awoke, his  eye  was  well  again.   He  heard   a  voice  saying, “Jonaid  forsook  his eye to gain Our  good pleasure.  If with  the  same  intention  he had  begged  of Us all the inhabitants of Hell, his petition would have been grant- ed.”
The  physician   called  and  saw  that   his  eye   was healed.
“What  did you do?” he asked.
“I   performed  the   ablutions  for   prayer,”   Jonaid answered.
Thereupon  the  physician,   who   was  a   Christian, declared his conversion.
“This  is the  Creator’s  cure,  not  the  creature’s,”  he commented. ‘It was my eye that  was sick, not  yours. You were the physician,  not I.”

“Once,” said  Jonaid,  “I desired  to see Iblis.  I  was standing at the mosque door, when I espied an old man approaching from  afar.  As I looked  at  him,  a horror rose within me.

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“Who are you?” I demanded. “Your desire,” he replied.
“Accursed  one,” I cried, “what  thing held you back from prostrating to Adam?”
“How do you imagine, Jonaid,” Iblis replied, “that I
would prostrate to any but Him?”
Jonaid described his sense of bewilderment, hearing the Devil say these words.
“A  voice  addressed   me  in  my  secret  heart,”  he recalled. “The voice said, ‘Say, You are a liar. If you had been a true servant,  you would have obeyed His com- mand. You would never have disregarded  it and flirted with denial.’ “
When Iblis heard  this speech, he uttered  a loud cry. “By Allah,  Jonaid,  you  have  destroyed  me!”  And  he vanished.

“In these days brothers  in the faith have become few and far to find,” a man said in Jonaid’s presence.
“If you are looking  for someone  to bear  your  bur- den, such men are indeed few and far to find,”  Jonaid countered. “But if you are seeking to carry somebody’s load, such brothers  are to be found in plenty with me.”

Whenever  Jonaid  spoke  on the Divine Unity,  every time he began with a different expression which no one could understand. One day Shebli was in Jonaid’s audi- ence and uttered  the word Allah.

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    277

If God is absent, to mention the absent One is a sign of absence, and absence is a thing proscribed,” Jonaid said.  “If  God  is present,  to  mention  His  name  while contemplating Him present is a mark of irreverence.”

A man brought  five hundred  dinars and offered them to Jonaid.
“Do  you  possess  anything   besides  this?”  Jonaid asked him.
“Yes, a lot,” the man replied. “Do you need more?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then  take it away,”  Jonaid said. “You have a bet- ter right to it. I possess nothing,  and I need nothing.”

A  man  rose  up  where  Jonaid  was  preaching  and began to beg.
“This man is perfectly healthy,” thought Jonaid. “He can earn his living. Why does he beg, and impose on himself this humiliation?”
That night Jonaid dreamed  that  a covered dish was set before him.
“Eat,”  he was bidden.
When  he lifted  the  lid,  he saw  the  man  who  had begged lying dead on the dish.
“I do not eat the flesh of men,” he protested.
“Then why did you do so in mosque yesterday?” he was asked.

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Jonaid realized that he had been guilty of slander in his heart,  and that  he was being taken to task for an evil thought.
“I  woke  in terror,”   Jonaid  recollected.  “I  purified myself and said two rak’as, then I went out to search for  the  beggar.  I saw him on the  bank  of the  Tigris, picking  out  of the  water  scraps  of vegetables  people had washed there and eating them. Raising his head, he saw  me  approaching and  addressed  me.  ‘Jonaid,’  he said, ‘have you repented  of the thoughts  you had con- cerning me?’ ‘I have,’ I replied. ‘Then go. It is He Who accepts repentance from His servants. This time keep a watch over your thoughts.’”

“I  learned   sincere  belief  from  a  barber,”  Jonaid recalled, and he told the following story.
Once when I was in Mecca, a barber  was trimming  a gentleman’s hair. I said to him, “For the sake of God, can you shave my hair?”
“I can,” he said. His eyes filling with tears, he left the gentleman  still unfinished.
“Get  up,”  he said.  “When  God’s  name  is  spoken, everything else must wait.”
He seated me and kissed my head, and shaved off my hair.  Then  he gave me a  screw  of paper  with  a  few small coins in it.
“Spend this on your needs,” he said.

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I thereupon resolved that  the first present that came my way I would  give him  in charity.  Not  long  after- wards a bag of gold arrived from Basra. I took it to the barber.
“What is this?”  he asked.
“I  made  up  my mind,” I explained,  “that the  first present that came my way I must give to you. This has just arrived.”
“Man,” he exclaimed,  “have  you no shame before God? You said to me, ‘For the sake of God, shave my hair.’  Then  you  give  me  a  present.   Have  you  ever known  of anyone  doing a deed  for  the  sake  of God and taking payment  for it?”

A thief  had  been  hanged  in Baghdad.  Jonaid  went and kissed his feet.
“Why  did you do that?” he was asked.
“A   thousand  compassions    be   upon   him!”   he replied. “He  proved  himself a true man at his trade. He did his work so perfectly, that  he gave his life for it.”

One  night  a  thief  entered  Jonaid’s  room.  Finding nothing  there but a shirt,  he took  that and fled. Next day Jonaid  was passing through the bazaars  when he saw his shirt in the hands of a broker  who was selling it to a customer.

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“I require an acquaintance who will testify that it is your  property,  before  I buy  it,”  the  prospective  pur- chaser said.
“I am ready to testify that  it belongs to him,” said
Jonaid, stepping forward.
The man then bought  the shirt.

An old woman came to Jonaid and said, “My son is missing. Say a prayer that he may return.”
“Be patient,” Jonaid told her.
The woman  waited patiently  for several days. Then she returned.
“Be patient,” Jonaid repeated.
This happened  several times. At last the old woman came and announced, “My patience is exhausted. Pray to God.”
“If you speak the truth,” said Jonaid, “your  son has returned. God says, He who answers  the constrained, when he calls unto Him.”
Jonaid  then  offered  up a prayer.  When  the  woman  returned  to her house, her son had come.

A disciple formed the notion that he had attained the degree of perfection.
“It is better for me to be alone,”  he thought.
So he withdrew  into  a  corner  and  sat  there  for  a space. It so fell out that  every night he was brought  a camel and told, “We will convey you to Paradise.” He

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would  sit on the camel and ride until  he arrived  at a pleasant  and  cheerful  spot  thronged   with  handsome folk and abounding in choice dishes and running water. There  he would  remain  till  dawn;  then  he would  fall asleep, and awake  to find himself in his cell. He now became proud and very conceited.
“Every  night  I  am  taken  to  Paradise,” he  would boast.
His words  came to Jonaid’s  ears.  He at once  arose and proceeded  to his cell, where he found him putting  on the greatest airs. He asked him what had happened, and he told the whole story to the shaikh.
“Tonight  when  you  are  taken  there,”  Jonaid  told him, “say thrice, ‘There is no strength  nor power  save with God, the Sublime, the Almighty.’ “
That night the disciple was transported as usual. He disbelieved in his heart  what  the shaikh had told him, nevertheless,  when he reached that place he uttered  as an experiment, “There  is no strength  nor power.”  The company all screamed and fled, and he found  himself on a dunghill  with  bones  lying before  him.  Realizing his error,  he repented  and  repaired  to Jonaid’s  circle. He  had  learned  that  for  a  disciple  to dwell  alone  is mortal  poison.

A disciple  of Jonaid’s  was  dwelling  in  seclusion  in Basra. One night a sinful thought entered his mind. He looked  in a mirror  and  saw  that  his face had  turned

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black.  Stupefied,  he tried  every device he could  think of, but in vain. He was so ashamed  that he showed his face to no one. Three days went by, then the blackness gradually  grew less.
Unexpectedly  a knock came on his door. “Who is it?” the disciple asked.
‘] have  come  with  a  letter  from  Jonaid,”  said  the caller.
The disciple read the letter.
“Why  do  you  not  conduct  yourself  becomingly  in the presence of Glory? For three days and nights I have had to work as a fuller, to change your face from black to white.”

There  was  a  certain  disciple  of  Jonaid’s  who  was taken to task one day over a small matter. Shamefaced, he fled and came no more to the convent.  Several days later Jonaid  was passing through  the market  with his companions when he suddenly espied that disciple. The disciple in shame took to his heels.
“A  bird  of  ours  has  flown  from  the  snare,”  said Jonaid, turning back his companions, and following on the disciple’s heels.
Looking back, the disciple saw the shaikh coming, so he quickened  his  pace.  Presently  he  reached  a  place where  there  was no exit,  and  in  shame  he turned  his

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    283

face to the wall. Presently the shaikh  appeared  on the scene.
“Where  are  you  making  for,  master?”  the  disciple asked.
“When  a disciple  is up  against  the  wall,  there  the shaikh can be of use,” replied Jonaid.
He then led the disciple back to the convent. The dis- ciple  fell  at  his  feet  and  begged  God’s  forgiveness. Those who witnessed the spectacle were deeply moved, and many repented.

The  shaikh  Jonaid  had  a  disciple  whom  he  loved above all the others. The other disciples were moved to jealousy, a fact which the shaikh realized by his mystic intuition.
“He is superior  to you in manners  and understand- ing,” he told them. “That  is what I had in view; let us make an experiment, so that you may also realize it.”
Jonaid  commanded twenty  birds  to be  brought  to him.
“Each of you take one,”  he told his disciples. “In a place  where  no one can see you kill it,  then  bring  it back.”
All the  disciples  went  off  and  killed  and  brought back the birds—all,  that is, except that favourite  disci- ple. He brought  his bird back alive.

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“Why did you not kill it?” Jonaid asked him. “Because the master  said it must be done in a place
where   no   one   can   see,”   the   disciple   answered.  “Wherever I went, God saw.”
“You see the measure of his understanding!” Jonaid exclaimed. “Compare that with that of the others.”
All the other disciples begged God’s forgiveness.

Jonaid had eight special disciples who carried out his every thought. One  day the notion  occurred  to them that  they  must  go  to  the  holy  war.  Next  morning  Jonaid ordered his servant to make all preparations for the wars.  He then set out to fight together  with those eight disciples.
When the lines of battle were drawn up, a champion stepped  forth  from the ranks  of the infidels and mar- tyred all eight.
“I  looked  up  to  heaven,”  said  Jonaid,  “and  I  saw nine litters standing  by. As each of the eight was mar- tyred  his  spirit  was  lifted  up  on  a  litter,  until  one remained over  empty.  ‘That  one  must  be  meant  for me,’  I  thought, and  I  joined  the  battle-ranks  once more.  Then  the  champion who  had  slain  my  eight companions   came   up   and   addressed   me.   ‘Abo’l- Qasem,  that   ninth   litter  is  for  me.  You  return   to Baghdad,  and  be the shaikh  of the community. Offer me Islam.’

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    285

“So he became a Muslim. With the same sword with which  he had  slain the eight  disciples,  he  slew a like number  of infidels. Then he achieved martyrdom him- self. His soul,”  Jonaid concluded, “was  also placed in that litter, and all vanished.”

There was a sayyid called Naseri who was on the pil- grimage intent.  When he reached  Baghdad  he went to visit Jonaid.
“Whence  comes the sayyid?” Jonaid enquired when greetings had been said.
“From Gilan,”  he replied.
“Of whose sons are you?” asked Jonaid.
“I am descended from Ali the Prince of the Believers, God be well pleased with him,” the man answered.
“Your forefather  wielded two swords,” said Jonaid. “One against the unbelievers, the other against himself. Now, sayyid, you who are his son, which of these two do you employ?”
The sayyid wept bitterly when he heard these words and grovelled before Jonaid.
“Master,  my  pilgrimage   is  here,”   he   exclaimed. “Show me the way to God.”
“Your breast  is the private  sanctuary  of God,” said Jonaid.  “So far as you are able, admit naught unsanc- tified into the private sanctuary.”
“That  is all I want to know,” said the sayyid.

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The death of Jonaid
When death was near at hand Jonaid bade them to lay the table and to set out a meal.
“I wish to give up the ghost whilst my companions are eating a bowl of soup.”
The first agony assailed him.
“Give me the water of ablution,” he said.
By chance they forgot  to let the water  run between his fingers. At his behest this slip was made good, and he then proceeded  to the prostration, weeping.
“Chief  of the Order,”  his disciples protested, “with  all the service and obedience  to God  which  you have sent ahead of you what time is this for prostration?”
“Never  was  Jonaid  more  in  need  than  now,”  he replied.
Straightway  he began to recite the Koran,  and went on reciting.
“What,  you recite the Koran?”  asked a disciple. “Who  has the better right to than I, seeing that this
hour the scroll of my life will be rolled up, and I shall see my seventy years’ obedience and service suspended in the air by a single thread?  Then  a  wind  will come and  swing  it  to  and  fro,  so  that  I  shall  not  know whether  it is a wind bringing separation or union.  On one  side  of  me  will  stretch  the  causeway  between Heaven  and  Hell  and  on the other  side the Angel of Death.  The  Judge  whose  attribute is  justice  will  be

abo ’l-qasem al-jonaid    287

there   awaiting   me,  unwavering   in  perfect   equity.”  Jonaid  continued, “A road  has  been  laid  before  me, and I know not by which road I shall be taken.”
He completed  the whole Koran,  then he recited sev- enty verses of the Sura of the Cow. The second agony seized him.
“Say Allah,” they prompted him.
“I have  not  forgotten,” he replied.  He  grasped the rosary until four of his fingers were crooked  about  it, and one let it go.
“In    the    Name    of    God,    the    Merciful,    the
Compassionate,” he cried.
And he closed his eyes and yielded up the ghost. When the time for washing  his body came, the one
performing  the rite wished to bathe his eyes in water. A voice cried from Heaven,  “Withhold  your  hand  from the eyes of My friend.  His eyes were closed upon  My Name,  and  shall  not  be  opened  save  at  the  meeting with Me.”  He then tried to open Jonaid’s fingers. The voice cried,  “The  finger  that  has  been  crooked  upon My Name shall not be opened save by My command.” When  they  lifted  up his body  on  the  bier,  a white dove  perched  upon  a corner  of  the  bier.  For  all that they sought to drive it away, it would not go. At last the dove cried, “Trouble  not yourselves and me. My claws have been fastened to the corner of the bier by the nail of Love. That  is why I am perched  here. Do not trou-

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ble yourselves; today his body passes to the care of the cherubim.   Were  it  not  for  your  clamour,  his  body would  have flown with us in the sky like a white fal- con.


Amr  ibn Othman

Abu ‘Abd Allah ‘Amr ibn ‘Othman  al-Makki, a disciple of al-Jonaid,  visited Esfahan  and died in Baghdad in 291 (904) or 297 (9I0).

Amr ibn Othman-e Makki  and the Book  of the
Treasure
It is said that  one day Amr ibn Othman-e Makki had written  down  on a sheet of paper  a translation of the Book of the Treasure.  He had put it under  his prayer rug and  gone  to purify  himself.  While  he was  at  his ablutions  report reached him, and he sent his servant to recover  the  script.  When  the  servant  turned  up  the prayer rug he could not find the paper. He told his mas- ter.
“They  have  taken  it  and  gone,”   said  Amr  ibn Othman. “The person who has taken that Book of the Treasure,” he added,  “will  soon  have his hands  and feet cut off. He will be put on the gibbet, and burned, and his ashes will be scattered  to the winds. He ought to have arrived at the Treasure,  whereas he has stolen the Book of the Treasure.”
Now  these  were  the  contents  of  the  Book  of  the
Treasure.
In the time when the spirit entered the bodily frame of Adam,  God commanded all the angels to prostrate

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themselves. All lowered their heads to the ground. Iblis said, “I will not make prostration. I will gamble my life away, and I will see the secret, even though  it may be that I shall be accursed and called rebel and sinner and hypocrite.”
Iblis did not make prostration. So he saw and knew the  secret  of  Man.   Consequently  none  but  Iblis  is apprised of Man’s secret, and none but Man knows the secret of Iblis. So Iblis became apprised  of the secret of Man  because  he  did not  prostrate himself,  so that  he saw that he was preoccupied  with beholding the secret. Iblis  was  rejected  by  all,  for  they  had  exposed  the Treasure to his eyes.
“We committed  a Treasure  to the earth,”  they said. “The  condition  attached  to the  Treasure  is  this,  that one person will see it, but they will cut off his head so that he may not betray it.”
“In this grant me a respite,”  cried Iblis. “Do not slay me. But I am the Man  of the Treasure.  They exposed the  Treasure   to  my  eyes,  and  these  eyes  will  not escape.”
The Sword of I Care Not declared, “Thou art among the ones that are respited. We grant you respite, but We cause  you  to  be  held  in  suspicion. So if We  do  not destroy  you, you will be suspect and a liar, and none will hold you to be a speaker of the truth.  So they will

amr ibn  othman     291

say, He was one of the jinn, and committed ungodliness against his Lord’s command.”
He  is  Satan.   How   should   he  speak   the   truth? Therefore  he is accursed  and rejected  and  abandoned and ignored.
This was the translation of the Book of the Treasure  by Amr ibn Othman.

Amr ibn ‘Othman on Love
Amr ibn ‘Othman  stated the following  in his Book of
Love.
Almighty  God  created  the  hearts  seven  thousand years before the souls, and He kept them in the Garden  of Intimacy. He created the Secrets seven thousand years before the hearts, and kept them in the Degree of Union. Every day God caused the souls to receive three hun- dred and sixty glances of Grace and to hear three hun- dred and sixty words of Love. Every day He manifest- ed to the  hearts  three  hundred  and  sixty  delights of Intimacy. Every day He revealed Beauty three hundred
and sixty times to the Secrets.
So they beheld every thing in the world of being, and saw none more precious  than themselves.  A vainglory and conceit manifested  amongst  them.
God therefore  put them to the trial.  He imprisoned the Secret in the soul. He confined the soul in the heart.

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He  detained   the  heart  in  the  body.  Then  He  com- pounded  in them reason.
God  sent  the  Prophets  with  commandments.  Then every one of them  set about  searching  for  his proper  station. God  commanded them  to  pray. So the  body went  into  prayer;  the  heart  attained   Love;  the  soul achieved Propinquity; the Secret was at rest in Union.

Amr ibn Othman writes to Jonaid
When  Amr  ibn  Othman was  in Mecca,  he  wrote  to
Jonaid, Jorairi,  and Shebli in Iraq. This was his letter. “Know,  you  who  are  the  great  ones  and  elders  of
Iraq,  say to every man  who  yearns  after  the  land of Hejaz and the beauty  of the Kaaba,  You would  never reach it, excepting  with great distress of spirit. And say to   every   man   who   yearns   after   the   Carpet   of Propinquity and the Court of Glory, You would  never reach it, excepting with great distress of soul.”
At the  bottom  of the  letter  Amr  wrote:  “This  is a missive  from  Amr  ibn  Othman-e Makki  and  these elders of Hejaz who are all with Him and in Him and by Him.  If there  be any  of you  who  entertains  high aspiration, say to him, Come upon  this road  wherein are two  thousand  fiery mountains and  two  thousand stormy  and perilous  seas. If you are not of this rank, make no false pretension, for to false pretension  noth- ing is given.”

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When  the  letter  reached  Jonaid,   he  gathered  the elders  of Iraq  together  and  read  it to them.  Then  he said, “Come,  say what he meant by these mountains.” “By  these   mountains,”  they   replied,   “he   meant naughting. Until a man is naughted  a thousand times and  a thousand  times  revived,  he does not  attain  the
Court  of Glory.”
“Of  these  two  thousand fiery  mountains,”  Jonaid remarked, “I have crossed only one.”
“You  are lucky  to have  crossed  one,”  said  Jorairi.  “Up to now I have gone only three steps.”
Shebli burst into tears.
“You  are  fortunate,  Jonaid,   to  have  crossed  one mountain,” he cried. “And  you are fortunate, Jorairi,  to have gone three  steps.  Up  to  now I have not  even seen the dust from afar.”




Abu  Sa‘id al-Kharraz

Abu Sa‘id Ahmad ibn ‘Isa al-Kharraz of Baghdad, a cobbler by trade,  met Dho ‘l-Nun al-Mesri and associated  with Beshr al-Hafi  and Sari al-Saqati. To him is attributed the formulation of the mysti- cal doctrine  of passing-away  (from human  attri- butes) and continuance (in God).  Author  of sev- eral books  including  some which have survived, the  date  of his death  is uncertain  but  probably occurred  between Z79 (89z) and 286 (899).

The doctrine of Abu Sa‘id-e Kharraz
Abu   Sa‘id-e  Kharraz   was   called   “the   Tongue   of Sufism”. They gave him this nickname because no one in this community possessed a tongue  of mystic truth  such as he. He composed  four hundred  books  on the theme   of  disassociation  and   detachment,  and   was indeed a nonpareil.
Originally of Baghdad,  Abu Sa‘id met Dho ‘l-Nun-e Mesri and associated  with Beshr and Sari-e Saqati. He was the first to speak of the states of “passing-away” and “continuance” in the mystical sense, summing up his whole  doctrine in these two terms.  Certain  of the theologians   who  followed  the  exoteric  school  disap- proved of the subtleties of his teaching, and condemned him of blasphemy  on  account  of  certain  expressions

296     abu  sa‘id al-kharraz

which they found in his works.  In particular they criti- cized his Book of the Secret, especially a passage occur- ring in it which they failed to understand properly. This is where Abu Sa‘id states, “A servant of God who has returned  to God and attached  himself to God and has come to dwell in propinquity to God, such a man has completely forgotten  himself and all other than God, so that  if you were to say to him, ‘Where are you from, and what do you seek?’ he would have no other answer but simply ‘God’.”
Another  passage  in Abu  Sa‘id’s writings  to  which objection has been taken is where he says, “If a certain one of these mystics is asked, ‘What do you want?’ he replies ‘God’. If he is in such a state that all the parts of his  body  become  vocal,  they  all  say  ‘God’.  For  his members  and  joints  are  fully  bathed  in the  Light  of God,  so  that  he  is  drawn  into  God.  So  far  has  he reached in propinquity to God, that in his presence no one  is able to say ‘God’; for whatever  proceeds  there proceeds  from Reality  unto  Reality  and  from God  to God. Since here, in the state of ordinary  men, nothing  has  resulted  from  God,  how  can  anyone  say ‘God’? Here  all  reason  of  reasoning  men  ends  in bewilder- ment.”

“All men,”  Abu Sa‘id once  said,  “have  been  given the choice between remoteness and propinquity. I chose

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remoteness,  because  I could  not  support  propinquity. Similarly Lokman said, ‘I was given the choice between wisdom and prophecy. I chose wisdom, because I could not support  the burden of prophecy.’  “

Abu Sa‘id related the following dreams.
Once  I dreamed  that  two  angels  came  down  from Heaven  and  said  to  me,  “What  is  truthfulness?”  I replied,  “Fulfilling  one’s  covenants.” “You  have  spo- ken the truth,” they  said,  then  they both  departed  to Heaven.
Again I dreamed  that  I saw the Prophet.  He said to me, “Do you love me?” I replied, “Excuse me. My love for  God  has  preoccupied  me from  loving  you.”  The Prophet  said, “Whoso  loves God loves me.”
On another  occasion in a dream I saw Iblis. I took a stick to beat him. I heard a Heavenly voice say, “He is not afraid of a stick. He is afraid of the light which is in  your  heart.”   Then  I  said  to  Iblis,  “Come!” Iblis replied,  “What can I do with you? You have cast out the thing  whereby  I  beguile men.”  “What is that?”  I asked. “The world,” he answered.  Then as he left me Iblis  looked  back  and  said,  “There  is a little thing  in you men  by  which  I attain  my  purpose.”  “What is that?”  I asked. “Sitting with boys,” Iblis replied.
When I was in Damascus  I again saw the Prophet in a dream.  He approached me leaning on Abu Bakr and

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Omar.  I was  reciting  a  verse  of  poetry,  tapping  my breast with my hunger.  The Prophet  said, “The evil of this is greater than its good.” He meant that one should not practise audition.

Abu  Sa‘id-e Kharraz  had  two  sons,  one  of  whom predeceased  him. One night he saw him in a dream.
“Son,  what  has  God  done  with  you?”  Abu  Sa‘id asked.
“He  brought  me close to Him  and  made  much  of me,” his son replied.
“Son, make me testament,” Abu Sa‘id begged. “Father,” his son answered,  “do not entertain dark
thoughts  of God.” “Tell me more!”
“Father,  if I speak, you will not be able to bear it.” “I ask God to assist me,” said Abu Sa‘id.
“Father,” said the son, “do not suffer a single shirt to come between yourself and God.”
It is said that in all the thirty years which Abu Sa‘id lived after this dream he never wore a shirt again.


Abu ‘l-Hosain al-Nuri

Abu ‘l-Hosain Ahmad ibn Mohammad al-Nuri,  a native  of Baghdad  of a  family  from Khorasan, was a pupil of Sari al-Saqati  and a faithful  com- panion   of  al-Jonaid.   A  leading   figure  of  the Baghdad  circle, he composed  some fine mystical poetry. He died in 295 (908).

The self-discipline  of Abu ‘l-Hosain-e Nuri
Abu ‘l-Hosain, who followed the same rules of conduct  as  Jonaid,   was  called  Nuri   (“the  Man  of  Light”) because whenever  he spoke and the night was dark,  a light  would  issue from  his  mouth  so that  the  whole house became bright. Another  explanation of his nick- name is that he declared inmost  secrets by the light of intuition. Yet a third version is that he had a retreat  in the  desert where he used to worship all the night through. People would go out to watch, and would see a light  mounting  from  his cell and  gleaming  through the night.
When he first embarked  on his mystical career, every morning  early he would set out from his house for the shop, and  pick up a few loaves.  These he would  dis- tribute   as  alms,   afterwards  proceeding   to  mosque where he worshipped till the noon  prayers,  only then going on to his shop. His household  imagined that he

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had eaten something  in the shop,  whilst the people in the shop supposed  that he had eaten at home. He con- tinued  this  practice  for  twenty  years  without anyone being aware of the true facts of his case.
Nuri gave the following account  of himself.
For  years  I struggled,  restraining  myself  in  prison and turning my back on other men. Despite all my aus- terities, the way did not become open to me.
“I must do something  to mend my affairs,”  I said to myself. “Otherwise let me die and escape from this car- nal soul.”
“Body,”  I then said, “for  many years you have fol- lowed your own lust and desire, eating and seeing and hearing, going and taking,  sleeping and enjoying your- self and gratifying your passion. All this has been most harmful to you. Now enter the chamber,  that I may fet- ter you  and  put  as a collar  round  your  neck all your dues to God. If you remain steadfast  so, you will attain  felicity; if not, at least you will die on the path of God!”  So I acted on the path of God. Now I had heard that the hearts of the mystics were delicate organs, knowing  the secret of whatever they saw and heard. Not finding this  in  myself,  I  said,  “The  pronouncements  of  the prophets and the saints are true. Perhaps I have played the  hypocrite  in my striving,  and  the defect is due  to myself. Here there is no room for difference of opinion.  Now,”  I went  on,  “I  will go around  myself and  see

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what it is.”
I gazed into myself, and the fault was this, that my carnal soul and my heart were united. When the carnal soul is one with the heart,  that is disastrous;  for what- ever shines  upon  the  heart,  the  carnal  soul  seizes its portion  of it. So I realized that this was the cause of my dilemma;  all that  entered  my heart  from the Court  of God, my carnal soul seized its part of it.
Thenceforward, whatever  gratified  my carnal  soul, that  I went  not  about,  but  clutched  something  other. For  instance,  if prayer  or  fasting  or  almsgiving  was agreeable  to my carnal soul, or solitude  or associating with my fellows, I proceeded  to do the contrary, till I had cast out all those things and all gratification had been cut away.  Then mystic secrets began to manifest in me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am the pearl of the mine of undesire,” came the answer. “Now tell the disciples, My mine is the mine of undesire,   and  my  pearl  is  the  pearl  of  the  mine  of unpurpose.”
Then I walked down to the Tigris and stood between two skiffs.
“I will not go,” I said, “until a fish falls into my net.” At last a fish fell into my net. When I drew it up I cried,  “Praise  be to God  that  my affairs  have  turned
out well!”

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I went  to Jonaid  and  told  him,  “A grace  has  been vouchsafed to me!”
“Abu  ‘l-Hosain,” Jonaid  replied,  “if  it had  been  a snake and not a fish that fell into your net, that would truly have been a sign of grace. But since you yourself intervened,  it is a deception, not a grace. For the mark of a grace is that you cease to be there at all.”

Nuri before the caliph
When  Gholam  Khalil  declared  hostilities  against  the
Sufis, he went to the caliph and denounced  them.
“A   group   have   appeared    on   the   scene,”   he announced, “who sing songs and dance and utter blas- phemies. They  parade  about  all day,  and  hide  them- selves  in  catacombs,  and   preach.   These   men   are heretics.  If the  Prince  of  the  Believers will  issue  the command  for them to be slain, the doctrine  of heresy will  be  exterminated,  for  they  are  the  chief  of  the heretics. If this thing is done by the hand of the Prince of the Believers, I guarantee  him an ample reward.”
The  caliph   immediately   ordered   that   they—Abu Hamza,  Raqqam, Shebli, Nuri, and Jonaid—should be brought  before him. This done, he commanded them to be slain.  The  executioner first made  to slay Raqqam; Nuri  sprang  up and  thrust  himself forward  fearlessly and took Raqqam’s  place.
“First kill me, laughing for joy,” he cried.

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“Sir, this is not your time yet,” the executioner said to him. “The sword is not a thing wielded in haste.”
“My way is based upon preference,” Nuri explained. “I  prefer  my comrades  above  myself.  The  most  pre- cious thing in this world is life. I wish to devote these few remaining  moments  to serving my brethren, that I may have sacrificed  life itself. This I do,  albeit  to my view one moment  in this world is dearer  than a thou- sand  years in the next.  For this world  is an abode  of service, and the other world is an abode of propinquity; and propinquity for me is in service.”
They reported  these words  of Nuri’s  to the  caliph, who  marvelled  at his sincerity  and  equitableness. He ordered the execution  to be  stayed  and  referred  their case to the cadi to examine.
“They cannot be proscribed  without proof,” said the cadi. Now he knew that  Jonaid was supreme in many sciences and had heard  Nuri speak.  So he said, refer- ring to Shebli, “I will question this madman  on a point of law which he will never be able to answer.”
“How  much  is to  be  paid  in  poor-tax   on  twenty dinars?”  he asked.
“Twenty and a half dinars,”  Shebli replied. “Whoever   instituted    that   kind   of   poor-tax?”
demanded  the cadi.
“Abu  Bakr the Great,”  Shebli answered.  “He  gave forty thousand dinars and kept nothing back.”

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“Yes, but what is this half-dinar  you spoke about?” “That  is a fine,” replied Shebli. “The man kept the twenty dinars to himself, so he must pay half a dinar in
addition.”
The  cadi  then  questioned  Nuri  on  a point  of  law. Nuri replied instantly, and the cadi was reduced to con- fusion. Nuri then spoke.
“Cadi,  you have asked all these questions,  and you have  asked  nothing  at all relevant.  For  God  has  ser- vants  who  stand  through   Him,  and  move  and  rest through  Him,  who live all through  Him and abide in contemplation of Him. If for a single instant  they held back  from  contemplating Him,  their  souls  would  go out  of  them.  Through  Him  they  sleep, through  Him they eat, through  Him they take, through  Him they go, through   Him  they  see,  through   Him  they  hear  and through  Him they are. This is the true science, not that on which you put questions.”
Bewildered, the cadi sent a message to the caliph.
“If these men are atheists  and  heretics,  than  I  give judgment  that  on the whole face of the earth not one unitarian exists.”
The caliph summoned  the prisoners.
“Is there anything  you want?”  he asked them. “Yes,” they replied. “We want you to forget us. We
want you neither to honour  us with your approval nor

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to banish us with your rejection.  For us your rejection is the same as your  approval, your  approval  as your rejection.”
The caliph wept bitterly and dismissed them with all honour.

Anecdotes  of Nuri
One day Nuri saw a man twirling his moustaches while at prayer.
“Take  your  hand  away  from  the  moustaches  of
God,”  he cried.
These   words   were   reported   to  the   caliph.   The lawyers  declared  unanimously that  by  uttering  them Nuri had lapsed into infidelity. He was haled before the caliph.
“Did you speak those words?”  the caliph demanded. “Yes,” Nuri replied.
“Why did you say them?”  asked the caliph.
“To whom does the servant  of God belong?” coun- tered Nuri.
“To God,”  answered  the caliph.
“And  to whom  did the moustaches  belong?”  Nuri pursued.
“To Him to whom the servant belonged,” concluded the caliph. “Praise be to God, who preserved me from slaying him,” he afterwards added.

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“I saw a light gleaming in the Unseen,” said Nuri. “I gazed at it continually, until the time came when I had wholly become that light.”

One day Jonaid  went to visit Nuri.  Nuri  fell to the ground before Jonaid complaining  of injustice.
“My  battle  has  waxed  fierce,  and  I have  no  more strength to fight,” he said. “For thirty years, whenever He  has  appeared   I  have  vanished,  and  whenever  I appear He is absent. His presence is in my absence. For all that I supplicate Him, His answer is ‘Either I am to be, or you.’ “
“Look upon a man,” said Jonaid to his companions, “who  has  been  sorely  tried  and  bewildered  by God. Such must be the state of affairs,”  he added, turning to Nuri,  “that  whether  He  is veiled by you  or  revealed through you, you shall no more be you, and all shall be He.”
A party of men went to Jonaid and said, “For a num- ber  of  days  and  nights  now  Nuri   has  been  going around  with a brick in his hand, saying ‘God, God.’ He eats nothing and drinks nothing and does not sleep. Yet he  performs   the   prayers   at  the  proper   times  and observes all the ritual of the prayers.”
“He  is sober.  He is not  in a state  of having  passed away,”  Jonaid’s companions said. “That is proved  by the fact that he observes the times of prayer and knows

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to  perform  the  ritual.  That  is  a  mark  of  conscious effort, not of passing away. One who has passed away is aware of nothing.”
“That  is not  the case,”  replied  Jonaid.  “What  you say is not  true.  Men  in ecstasy  are  ‘preserved’;  God watches  over them, lest they be excluded  from service at the time of service.”
Jonaid then went to call on Nuri.
“Abu  ‘l-Hosain,” he addressed  him,  “if  you  know that  shouting  is of profit  with Him, tell me and I will also shout.  If you know  that satisfaction with Him is better, then practise resignation, that your heart may be at rest.’
Nuri ceased his shouting  forthwith.
“What   an  excellent  teacher  you  are  for  us!”  he exclaimed.

Shebli was preaching,  and Nuri entered the hall and stood on one side.
“Peace be upon you, Abu Bakr,” he called out.
“And  upon  you  be  peace,  Prince  of  the  Hearts,” Shebli replied.
“Almighty God,”  Nuri went on, “would  not be well pleased with a man of learning  imparting his learning when he does not put it into practice. If you practice what  you preach,  keep your high station.  If not,  then come down!”

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Shebli considered,  and finding himself not true to his preaching  he came down.  For four months he kept to his house  and  did not  venture  out.  Then  a crowd  of men came and brought  him out and put him in the pul- pit. Nuri heard of this and came to the hall.
“Abu Bakr,” he cried, “you concealed the truth from them, so of course they set you in the pulpit. I coun- selled  them  sincerely,  and  they  drove  me  away  with stones and flung me on the dunghill.”
“Prince  of the  Hearts,  what  was  your  good  coun- selling, and what was my concealing?” asked Shebli.
“My good counselling,”  Nuri replied, “was that I let men  go to their  God.  Your  concealing  was  that  you became a veil between God and men. Who are you, to be an intermediary between God and men? In my view, you are irrelevant.”

Nuri and another  were seated together, both weeping bitterly.  When  the other  departed, Nuri  turned  to his companions.
“Did you know who that was?” he asked them. “No,” they replied.
“That  was Iblis,” he told them. “He was relating the services he had performed  and was telling  the  tale of his life, bewailing the agony of separation. As you saw, he was weeping. I too was weeping.”

abu  ‘l-hosain al-nuri     309

Ja’far-e Kholdi relates the following.
Nuri was praying in seclusion, and I was listening to what he would say.
“Lord God,”  he said, “Thou  punishest  the denizens of Hell.  They  are  all Thy  creation,  by  virtue  of Thy omniscience  and  omnipotence and  pre-eternal  will. If Thou wilt assuredly  fill Hell with men, Thou hast the power to fill Hell with men and to transport them to Paradise.”
I was amazed  at his words.  Then I saw in a dream one who came to me and said, “God has said, Tell Abu
‘l-Hosain,  I have  honoured and  had  compassion  on thee for that prayer.”

“One night,”  Nuri recalled, “I found the area about the  Kaaba  empty  and  proceeded  to  circumambulate. Each time I reached the Black Stone I prayed and said,
‘O God,  accord  to me a state  and  an attribute  from which I shall not change.’ One day I heard a voice pro- ceeding from the midst of the Kaaba and saying, ‘Abu
‘l-Hosain,  you  would  make  yourself  equal  to  Me.  I change not from My attribute, but I keep My servants turning  about  and  changing.  This I  do,  in order  that Lordship  may become  clear  from servanthood. It is I who   continue    in   one   attribute;  man’s   attribute changes.’”

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Shebli reports:  I visited Nuri  and saw him seated in meditation, not a hair of his body moving.
“From  whom  did you learn  such excellent  medita- tion?”  I asked.
“From   a  cat  crouching   over  a   mouse-hole,”   he replied. “He was much stiller than I am.”

One  night  report   was  brought   to  the  people  of
Qadesiya.
“A friend of God has confined himself in the Valley of Lions. Go and recover him.”
All the people went out to the Valley of Lions. There they found that  Nuri  had dug a grave and was sitting there, surrounded by crouching  lions. They interceded with him, and conducted  him back to Qadesiya,  where they asked him his story.
“For a while I had eaten nothing,” he told them. “I was traversing  this desert  when I espied a date-tree.  I had a longing for fresh dates. Then I said, ‘There is still room left for desire. I will go down into this valley, that the lions may rend you, my appetite,  then you will no longer desire dates.’”

“One day,” Nuri recalled, “I was washing myself in a pool when a thief came and stole my clothes.  I had not yet emerged from the water when he brought  them back,  and his hand  had  become  withered.  I cried,  ‘O

abu  ‘l-hosain al-nuri     311

God, since he has brought  back my clothes,  give him back his hand!’ At once his hand was healed.”

Fire broke out in the Bazaar of Slavers in Baghdad, and  many  people  were  burnt  to  death.  In one  shop were two young Greek slaves, very handsome  youths; the flames were lapping round  them.
“Anyone   who   will  fetch  them   out,”   cried   their owner, “I will give a thousand gold dinars.”
No one dared to attempt  the rescue. All at once Nuri arrived  on  the  scene.  He  saw  the  two  young  slaves, shouting  for help.
“In    the    Name    of    God,    the    Merciful,    the Compassionate.” So saying, he plunged in and brought them  both  to safety.  The owner  of the  slaves offered Nuri the thousand gold dinars.
“Keep your gold,” Nuri told him. “And give thanks to God. For this dignity that has been conferred  on me has  been  conferred   because  of  not  accepting  gold, exchanging this world for the next.”

One day a blind man was crying, “God,  God!” Nuri went up to him and said, “What do you know of Him? And if you know, yet you still live?”
So saying, he lost his senses, and was so filled with mystic  yearning  that  he went  out  into  the  desert,  to freshly-harvested reedbeds.  The reeds  pierced  his feet

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and sides, and the blood gushed forth. Every drop that fell, the words “God,  God” appeared.
Abu Nasr-e Sarraj states that when they brought him from  that  place  to his home,  they said to  him,  “Say, There is no god but God.”
“Why,  I am  on  my  way  There,”   he  replied.  And thereupon he died.


Abu  Othman al-Hiri

Abu   ‘Othman   Sa’id  ibn   Esma’il  al-Hiri   al- Nisaburi   came  originally  from  Rayy,  where  he knew  Yahya  ibn  Mo’adh  al-Razi  and  Shah  ibn Shoja’ al-Kermani.  He moved to Nishapur where he  came  under  the  influence  of  Abu  Hafs  al- Haddad. He  visited  al-Jonaid  in  Baghdad,  and died at Nishapur in 298 (911).

The education  of Abu Othman-e Hiri
“My  heart  even  in  the  days  of  my  childhood  was always  seeking  after  something  of reality,”  said  Abu Othman-e Hiri. “I had an aversion for the followers of formal religion, and I was always convinced that some- thing else existed apart from what the general mass of the people believed in, that the Islamic way of life held mysteries other than its external  manifestations.”
One day Abu Othman was going to school accom- panied by four slaves, an Ethiop,  a Greek, a Kashmiri, and a Turk.  In his hand he carried  a golden pen-case; he wore on his head a muslin turban, on his back a silk robe.  Passing on his  way an ancient  caravanserai, he peeped in and saw there an ass with sores on its back, a raven was pecking at its wounds,  and the beast had not  the  strength  to drive  it away.  Abu  Othman  was filled with compassion.

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“Why  are you with  me?”  he addressed  one of  the slaves.
“To assist you in every thought that  passes through your mind,”  the slave replied.
Immediately  Abu Othman took  off his silken  dress and  covered  the donkey  with  it, bandaging  the beast with his muslin turban. With mute eloquence the ass at once  communed  with  God  Almighty.  Before  ever  he reached home, Abu Othman was visited by a spiritual  experience such as true men of God know.
Like one distraught, he found his way to the assem- bly of Yahya-e Mo’adh; his preaching opened a door in his heart.  Breaking away from his mother  and father, Abu  Othman served  Yahya for  a while,  learning  the Sufi  discipline.  This  continued   until  a  party  arrived from Shah-e Shoja’-e Kermani  and told stories of that holy man. A great eagerness to see Shah-e Shoja’ invad- ed Abu Othman. Having obtained permission  from his spiritual preceptor  he proceeded to Kerman, to wait on the saint. Shah-e Shoja’ declined to receive him.
“You have become habituated to hope,” he told him. “Yahya’s station is hope. Spiritual advancement cannot be looked for in one brought up on hope. Blind attach- ment to hope generates idleness. With Yahya, hope is a real experience; with you it is blind imitation.”
Abu Othman entreated  the saint with great humility, haunting  his threshold  for twenty  days,  till at last he

abu  othman al-hiri     315

was admitted. He remained  in his society and derived much benefit from his instruction until the time came when Shah-e Shoja’ set out for Nishapur to visit Abu Hafs. Abu Othman accompanied him, the saint wear- ing a short tunic. Abu Hafs came out to receive Shah-e Shoja’ and showered  praises upon him.
Abu Othman’s  whole desire was to join the compa- ny of Abu  Hafs,  but  his reverence  for  Shah-e  Shoja’ prevented  him from broaching  the  matter,  for Shah-e Shoja’ was a jealous teacher. Abu Othman begged God to provide some means whereby he might remain with Abu Hafs without annoying  Shah-e Shoja’; for he per- ceived  that  Abu  Hafs  was  a  man  of  great  spiritual advancement.
When Shah-e Shoja’ determined  that  it was time to return  to Kerman,  Abu  Othman busied  himself  with making  ready  provisions  for the  road.  Then  one day Abu  Hafs  said  to Shah-e  Shoja’ very affably,  “Leave this young man here. I am delighted with him.”
“Obey  the  shaikh,” said  Shah-e  Shoja’,  turning  to Abu Othman. With  that  Shah-e  Shoja’ departed, and Abu Othman remained,  and saw what he saw.

“I  was  still a young  man,”  Abu  Othman  recalled, “when  Abu Hafs dismissed me from his service. ‘I do not wish you to come near me any more,’ he told me. I said nothing,  and my heart would not suffer me to turn

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my back  on him. So I withdrew  facing him as I  was, weeping  all the while, till I vanished  from his sight. I made a place opposite  him and cut out a hole through which I watched  him. I firmly resolved never to leave that  spot  unless  the  shaikh  ordered   me.  When  the shaikh  noticed me there and observed  my sorry state, he called me out and promoted me to his favour,  mar- rying his daughter  to me.”

Anecdotes  of Abu Othman
“For forty years,”  said Abu Othman, “whatever state God has kept me in I have not resented,  and to what- ever  state  He  has  transferred  me  I  have  not  been angry.”
The following story bears out this assertion.  A man who disbelieved in Abu Othman sent him an invitation. Abu Othman accepted, and got as far as the door of his house. The man then shouted  at him.
“Glutton, there is nothing  here for you. Go home!”  Abu Othman went home. He had gone only a little
way when the man called out to him. “Shaikh,  come here!”
Abu Othman returned.
“You are very eager to eat,”  the man taunted him. “There  is still less. Be off with you!”
The   shaikh   departed.  The   man   summoned   him again, and he went back.

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“Eat stones, or go home!”
Abu Othman went off once more.  Thirty  times the man summoned  him and drove him away. Thirty times the shaikh  came and went,  without showing  the least discomposure. Then  the man  fell at his feet and with tears repented,  becoming his disciple.
“What  a man you are!” he exclaimed. “Thirty times I drove you off with contumely,  and you showed  not the slightest discomposure.”
“This   is  an  easy  matter,”   Abu  Othman  replied. “Dogs  do the same. When you drive them away they go, and when you call them they come, without show- ing any discomposure. A thing in which dogs equal us cannot  really  be  accounted   anything.  Men’s  work  is something quite other.”

One day Abu Othman was walking  along the street when someone  emptied  a  tray  of  ashes  on  his  head from the roof. His companions, infuriated, were about  to abuse the offender,  but Abu Othman stopped  them. “One  should  give thanks  a thousandfold,” he said,
“that  one who merited fire was let off with ashes!”

A dissolute  young fellow was strolling along with a lute in his hand,  completely  drunk. Suddenly catching sight of Abu Othman, he tucked his curls under his cap and  drew  the  lute  into  his  sleeve,  thinking   that  he

318     abu  othman al-hiri

would  denounce  him to the authorities. Abu Othman approached him in the kindliest manner.
“Do not be afraid. Brothers are all one,” he said. When  the  young  man  saw  that,  he  repented  and
became a disciple of the shaikh. Abu Othman instruct-  ed him to be washed, invested him, and then raised his head to heaven.
“O God,”  he cried, “I have done my part.  The rest
Thou must do.”
Immediately  the youth was visited by such a mysti- cal experience that Abu Othman himself was amazed. At the time of the afternoon prayers, Abu Othman-e Maghrebi   arrived.  Abu  Othman-e Hiri  said  to  him, “Shaikh,  I am  consumed  with  envy.  All that  I have yearned for in a long life has been poured freely on the head of this youth, from whose belly the odour of wine still proceeds. So you know that men propose, but God
disposes.”


Ibn Ata

Abu ‘l-‘Abbas Ahmad  ibn Mohammad ibn Sahl ibn ‘Ata’ al-Adami was a close companion of al- Jonaid.  Author  of mystical  verses and  a promi- nent member of the Baghdad circle, he was put to death in 309 (922).

Anecdotes  of Ibn Ata
Ibn Ata was one of the leading disciples of Jonaid. One day  a  party  of  men  entered  his  oratory   to  find  the whole floor drenched.
“What  is this state of affairs?”  they asked.
“A mystical  experience  came to me,” he explained.  “In shamefacedness I circled around the oratory,  pour- ing tears from my eyes.”
“What  was it?” they enquired.
“When  I was a child,”  he explained,  “I took a dove belonging to  someone.  I remembered   that.  I gave  a thousand silver dinars to compensate  its owner, but my conscience  could  not  rest.  I am  weeping,  wondering  what the consequence  will be.”

“How  much of the Koran do you recite daily?” Ibn
Ata was asked.
“Formerly,”  he  replied,   “I  used  to  complete  the whole  Koran  twice  every  twenty-four  hours.  Now  I

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have been  reciting  the Koran  for fourteen  years,  and today I have just reached the Sura of the Spoils.”

Ibn Ata had ten sons, all handsome  boys. They were accompanying their  father  on a journey  when  thieves fell upon them and proceeded  to strike off their heads one by  one.  Ibn  Ata  said  nothing;  as  each  son  was killed, he turned  his face to heaven and laughed.  Nine of his sons were already executed, and the thieves were about  to slay the tenth.
“A fine father you are!” the tenth son addressed him. “Nine of your sons are beheaded,  and you say nothing  but simply laugh.”
“Soul  of your  father,”  Ibn Ata answered  him,  “He who  is doing  this,  to Him  one  can  say  nothing.  He knows,  and  He  sees; He  is able,  if  He  wills, to save them all.”
The thief who  was about  to kill the tenth  son  was overcome by emotion  when he heard Ibn Ata’s words. “Old  man,”  he cried,  “if you had  said this before,
none of your sons would have been killed.”

“How   is  it  with  you  Sufis,”  certain  theologians asked Ibn Ata,  “that  you have  invented  terms  which sound  strange  to  those  who  hear  them,  abandoning ordinary language?  It can only be one of two  things.

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Either you are practising  dissimulation, and dissimula- tion  is improper  in relation  to the  truth,  so that  it is clear that your doctrine is not true; or else there is some evident flaw in your doctrine which you are concealing in your public utterances.”
“We do this because  it is precious  to us,”  Ibn  Ata replied.  “What we practise  is precious  to  us, and  we desired that  none but we Sufis should know of it. We did  not  wish  to  employ  ordinary  language,   so  we invented a special vocabulary.”

Why Ibn Ata cursed Ali ibn Isa
Ibn Ata was denounced  as a heretic.  Ali ibn Isa, who was then the caliph’s vizier, summoned  him and spoke roughly to him. Ibn Ata replied in vigorous terms. This enraged the vizier, who ordered  his servants to remove his shoes and beat his head with them until he died. In the midst of this Ibn Ata exclaimed, “May God cut off your hands and feet!”
Some while after the caliph was angered against Ali ibn Isa and ordered  his hands and feet to be struck off Certain of the Sufi masters have found fault with Ibn Ata  on  this  account.  “Why,”  they  say,  “when  your prayers could have effected the man’s reformation, did you  curse  him?  You  ought   to  have  blessed  him.” Others  however  have excused him, saying, “It may be

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that he cursed him because he was unjust to save other
Muslims.”
Another explanation is that Ibn Ata, being a man of intuition, foresaw what would be done to the vizier. He simply agreed with what had been Divinely destined, so that  God  spoke  His Will by  his tongue,  he being not involved at all.
My own opinion  is that  Ibn Ata in fact blessed him and  did  not  curse  him,  so  that  he  might  attain  the degree of martyrdom. He prayed that the vizier should suffer humiliation in this world and fall from his high rank  and  great  wealth.  Seen  in  this  light,  Ibn  Ata wished  nothing  but  good  for Ali ibn Isa; for punish- ment in this world is light to bear, in comparison with that in the world to come.


Somnun

Abu ‘1-Hasan  Somnun  ibn ‘Abd Allah (Hamza) al-Khauwas, a companion of Sari al-Saqati,  was called “the Lover”  because of his discourses  and poems on the theme of mystical love. Denounced by Gholam al-Khalil, he died c. 300 (913).

The story of Somnun  the Lover
Somnun commonly  called the Lover (he called himself Somnun  the  Liar)  was  a  companion of  Sari-e Saqati and a contemporary of Jonaid.  He had a special doc- trine about love, which he promoted above gnosis, con- trary to the view of the majority  of the Sufi masters.
When  Somnun  went  to  Hejaz  the  people  of  Faid invited  him  to  preach.   He  entered   the  pulpit   and began to hold forth, but found no one to listen to him. He therefore  turned  to the mosque-lamps and said, “I am  going  to  speak  to  you  about  love.”  Immediately  the  lamps  dashed  upon  one  another and  broke  into pieces.
One  day  when  he  was  preaching   on  love  a  bird swooped  down  out of the air and perched first on his head,  then  on  his hand,  then  on  his  breast.  Then  it dropped from his breast  on to the ground  and struck its beak so violently against  the ground  that  the blood gushed forth from it. Then the bird collapsed and died.

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It is related that towards  the end of his life, to accord with  the  Prophet’s  example,  Somnun  married  and  in due course had a daughter. When the child was three years old Somnun  became  very attached  to her.  That night  he dreamed  that the  resurrection had  come  to pass. He saw that a standard had been set up for every community;  one standard was so bright  that  its  radi- ance filled the plains of Heaven.
“To  whom  does  this  standard  belong?”  Somnun enquired.
“To  the people  of whom  God  says, He loves  them and they love Him,”  came the answer (meaning that it was the standard of lovers).
Somnun  ranged   himself  among   those  under  that banner.  One  came  along  and  drove  him  out  of their midst.
“Why do you drive me out?”  Somnun shouted. “Because  this  is the  standard of lovers,”  came  the
reply. “You are not one of them.”
“Why not?”  cried Somnun.  “After  all, they call me Somnun  the  Lover,  and  God  knows  what  is  in  my heart.”
“Somnun, you were a lover,” came the answer. “But when  your  heart   inclined  towards   that  child,  your name was expunged  from the roll of lovers.”
Even as he dreamed  Somnun made supplication.
“O God,  if this child is to waylay  me, remove  her from my path.”

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When he awoke the cry went up, “The little girl fell from the roof and died.”
It is further  related  that  once Somnun  was  reciting this couplet.

I have no joy in aught but Thee; So, as Thou  wilt, make trial of me.

Immediately  his urine was blocked.  He went about  from school to school saying to the children, “Pray for your liar of an uncle that God may heal him!”

Somnun  and Gholam  Khalil
Gholam Khalil had made himself known  to the caliph as  a  Sufi,  bartering   away  his  eternal  salvation   for worldly   advantage.  He  always   maligned   the  Sufis before  the  caliph,  his  intention  being  to secure  their banishment, so that  none should enjoy the blessing of their  presence,  and to maintain  himself in power  and that he might not be disgraced.
When  Somnun  grew  to  full  stature  and  his  fame spread  abroad, Gholam  Khalil  occasioned  him much suffering, always watching for an opportunity of bring- ing about his disgrace. Then one day a wealthy woman  offered herself to Somnun.
“Ask my hand in marriage,” she said.
Somnun  refused.  The  woman  then  went  to  Jonaid and  begged  him  to  intercede  for  her  and  persuade

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Somnun  to  marry  her,  but  Jonaid  rebuked  her  and drove  her  away.  The  woman   therefore  repaired   to Gholam  Khalil  and  laid  allegations  against  Somnun. Gholam  Khalil  was  delighted,  and  turned  the  caliph against  Somnun.  Then  the caliph  ordered  Somnun  to be slain. The executioner having been summoned, the caliph  was  about  to say,  “Behead  him”;  but  he was struck dumb and he could not speak, his tongue stick- ing in his throat. That  night  he dreamed  that  a voice said   to  him,   “Your   kingdom   is   bound   up   with Somnun’s   life.”   Next   morning  the  caliph   sent  for Somnun  and sent  him away  with  all honour,  treating him with the highest consideration.
Thereafter   Gholam’s   hostility   towards   Somnun increased still more. Towards the end of his life he was smitten with leprosy.
“Gholam  Khalil has become a leper,” someone relat- ed to Somnun.
“It would seem,” Somnun replied, “that  some imma- ture Sufi has formed designs against him and not done good. For he was an opponent of the masters, and from time to time impeded  them by his actions.  God grant him healing!”
These  words  were  reported  to Gholam  Khalil.  He repented of all his sins, and sent all that he possessed to the Sufis. They however refused to accept anything.


aI-Termedhi

One   of  the   outstanding  creative   thinkers   of Islamic mysticism,  Abu ‘Abd Allah Mohammad ibn ‘Ali ibn al-Hosain  al-Hakim  al-Termedhi was driven  out  of  his  native  town  of  Termedh  and took refuge in Nishapur, where he was preaching in  285  (898).  His  psychological   writings  influ- enced al-Ghazali,  whilst his startling theory of sainthood was taken  over and developed  by Ibn
‘Arabi.  A  copious  author, many  of  his  books, including  an autobiographical sketch,  have been preserved and a number  have been published.

The training of Hakim-e  Termedhi
At the beginning  of his career,  Mohammad ibn  Ali-e Termedhi  arranged  with  two  students  to  set  out  with them in quest of knowledge. When they were just ready to leave, his mother  became very sorrowful.
“Soul of your mother,”  she addressed  her son, “I am a feeble woman,  and  have no one in the  world.  You look  after  my  affairs.  To  whom  will  you  leave  me, alone and feeble as I am?”
Her words  pained  Termedhi,  and he abandoned his journey  while  his  two  friends  went  off  in  quest  of knowledge. Some time elapsed.  Then one day he was sitting in the cemetery, weeping bitterly.

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“Here  am  I left  here,  neglected  and  ignorant.  My friends will come back, perfectly trained scholars.”
Suddenly   there   appeared   a  luminous   elder   who addressed  him.
“My son, why do you weep?” Termedhi  told him his tale.
“Would  you like me to teach you a lesson daily, so that you will soon outstrip  them?”  he asked.
“I would,” Termedhi  replied.
“So,” Termedhi  recalled, “every day he taught me a lesson, till three years had gone by. Then I realized that he  was  Khezr,  and  that  I  had  attained   this  felicity because I pleased my mother.”
Every Sunday (so Abu Bakr-e Warraq  reports) Khezr would  visit  Termedhi   and  they  would  converse  on every matter. One day he said to me, “Today I will take you somewhere.”
“The master knows best,” I replied.
I set out with him, and within a little while I espied an arduous  and harsh  desert,  in the midst of which a golden throne  was set under a verdant tree by a spring of water.  Someone apparelled  in beautiful  raiment  was seated  on  the  throne.  The  shaikh  approached  him, whereupon this person rose up and set Termedhi on the throne.  In  a little while a company  gathered  from all directions,   until  forty  persons  were  assembled.  They made a signal to heaven and food appeared, and they

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ate. The shaikh  asked that  person  questions which he answered,  but  in such language  that  I  did not  under- stand  a  single  word.  After  a  time Termedhi  begged leave to go, and took his departure.
“Go,”  he said to me. “You have been blessed.”
In a while  we were back  in Termedh.  I then  ques- tioned the shaikh.
“What  was all that? What place was it, and who was that man?”
“It  was  the  wilderness  of  the  Children  of  Israel,” Termedhi  replied. “That  man was the Pole.”
“How  was it that  we went  and  returned  in  such a short time?” I asked.
“O Abu Bakr,” he answered, “when He conveys, one is able to arrive! What  business is it of yours to know the why and wherefore?  To arrive is your task, not to ask!”

“However hard  I strove  to keep my carnal  soul  in subjection,”  Termedhi   related,   “I  could  not  prevail over it. In my despair I said, ‘Haply Almighty God has created  this  soul  for  Hell.  Why  nurture   a  creature doomed to Hell?’ Proceeding to the banks of the Oxus, I begged a man to bind me hand and foot. He left me thus, and I rolled over and flung myself into the water, hoping to drown myself. The impact of the water freed my hands;  then  a wave came and  cast me  up on the

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bank. Despairing  of myself, I cried, ‘Glory be to Thee, O  God,  who  hast  created  a  soul  that  is  not  proper  either for Heaven  or Hell!’ In the very moment  of my self-despair, by the blessing of that cry my secret heart was opened  and I saw what  was necessary for me. In that selfsame hour I vanished from myself. So long as I have lived, I have lived by the blessing of that hour.”

Abu Bakr-e Warraq  also relates the following.
One day Termedhi handed over to me many volumes of his writings to cast into the Oxus.  I examined  them and found they were replete with mystic subtleties and truths.  I could not bring myself to carry out his instruc- tions, and instead stored them in my room.  I then told him that I had thrown  them in.
“What  did you see?” he asked. “Nothing,” I replied.
“You  did not  throw  them  in,”  he concluded.  “Go and do so.”
“I see two problems,” I said to myself. “First, why does he want  them flung into the water? And second, what visible proof will there be?”
However,  I went back and threw the books into the Oxus.  I  saw  the  river  open  up,  and  an  open  chest appeared;  the volumes  fell into  it,  then  the lid closed and the river subsided. I was astonished.

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“Did you throw them in this time?” Termedhi ques- tioned me when I returned  to him.
“Master, by God’s glory,” I cried, “tell me the secret behind this.”
“I  had  composed  something  on  the  science  of  the Sufis, the  disclosing  of the  verification  of  which  was difficult  for human  minds to grasp,” he replied.  “My brother  Khezr entreated  me. The chest was brought  by a fish at his bidding,  and  Almighty  God  commanded the waters to convey it to him.”

Anecdotes  of Termedhi
In Termedhi’s time lived a great ascetic who was always criticizing  him.  Now  in all the  world  Termedhi  pos- sessed nothing  but a cabin. When he returned  from his journey  to Hejaz,  a  dog  had whelped  in that  cabin, which had no door. Termedhi  did not wish to drive the dog out, and he went and came eighty times in the hope that the dog would have of its own free will carried its puppies out.
That  same  night  the  ascetic  saw  the  Prophet  in a dream.
“Sirrah,  you  put  yourself  up  against  a  man  who eighty  times  brought  succour  to a dog,”  the Prophet said. “If you desire eternal happiness, go, bind up your loins and serve him.”

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The  ascetic,   too   ashamed   to  answer   Termedhi’s greetings, thereafter  spent the rest of his life in his ser- vice.

“When the master is angry with you, do you know?”
someone asked Termedhi’s family.
“We  know,”  they  replied.  “Whenever   he  is  vexed with us, that day he is even kinder to us than usual. He takes  neither  bread  nor  water,  and weeps and suppli- cates, saying,  ‘O God,  in  what  did  I vex Thee,  that Thou hast provoked them against me? O God, I repent; restore them to rectitude.’  So we know, and repent,  to deliver the master out of his affliction.”

For a while Termedhi  did not  see Khezr.  Then  one day a maidservant had washed the baby’s clothes, fill- ing  a  basin  with  the  baby’s  excreta. Meanwhile   the shaikh,  dressed in clean robes and with a spotless tur- ban, was  proceeding to the  mosque.  The  girl,  flying into a rage over some trifle, emptied the basin over the shaikh’s head.  Termedhi  said nothing,  and swallowed his anger. Immediately  he rediscovered Khezr.

In   his   youth   a   certain   lovely   woman   invited Termedhi  to take her, but he refused. Then one day the woman, learning that he was in a garden,  arrayed  her- self  and  proceeded   thither.  As  soon  as  the  shaikh

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became  aware  of her  approach, he fled. The  woman  ran after him, screaming  that  he was after her blood. Termedhi  took no notice, but climbed a high wall and flung himself over.
One day in his old age Termedhi  was reviewing his acts  and  sayings,  and  remembered  that  incident.  The thought entered  his mind,  “What would  it have mat- tered if I had gratified that  woman’s  need? After all, I was  young,  and  I could  afterwards have  repented.” When  he perceived  this thought in his mind,  he  was filled with anguish.
“Foul  and  rebellious  soul!”  he  exclaimed.  “Forty years ago, in the first flush of youth,  this thought did not occur to you. Now in old age, after so many strug- gles, whence has come this repining over a sin not com- mitted?”
Very sorrowful, for three days he sat in mourning for this thought. After three days he saw the Prophet  in a dream.
“Mohammad, do  not  grieve,”  said  the  Prophet  to him. “What happened  was not due to a lapse on your part.  This thought occurred  to you because forty years more  had  passed  since my  death.  The  period  of my leaving the world had become that much longer, and I was withdrawn further  away. It is no sin of yours, no shortcoming  in  your   spiritual   progress.   What   you experienced  was due to the long extension of the peri-

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od of my departure from the world,  not  to any  defi- ciency in your character.”

The following narrative  is ascribed to Termedhi. When Adam and Eve came together and their repen-
tance was accepted,  one day Adam went out on busi- ness.  Then  Iblis brought  his child  called  Khannas  to Eve.
“Something  important has  come  up,”  he told  her. “Please look after my child till I return.”
Eve consented  to do so, and Iblis went on his way. “Who is this?” demanded  Adam on his return.
“The child of Iblis,” Eve answered.  “He left him in my charge.”
“Why  did you consent?”  Adam  reproved  her.  In a fury he slew the child and cut him into pieces, and hung each piece from the branch of a tree. Then he went off. Presently Iblis returned.
“Where  is my son?” he asked.
Eve reported  to him what had happened.
“He  cut him in pieces and  hung  each piece on  the branch  of a tree.”
Iblis called to his son.  He reassembled  and  became alive and ran to his father.
“Take him,” Iblis begged Eve again. “I have another task to do.”

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At first Eve would  not agree, but Iblis pleaded and entreated  her so earnestly that at last she consented.  So Iblis took his departure, and Adam returned  to find the child there again.
“What  is this?” he demanded.
Eve explained  what  had  happened. Adam  beat  her severely.
“I  do  not  know  what  the  mystery  of  this  is,”  he cried, “that  you disobey  me and  obey  that enemy  of God, and are duped by his words.”
He slew the  child  and  burned  his body,  then  scat- tered his ashes, half in the water and half to the winds. So he departed.
Iblis came back again and asked for his son. Eve told him what  had come to pass. Iblis shouted  to his son, and  the pieces reassembled  and  came  to  life, and  sat before  Iblis.  Once  more  Iblis  spoke  to  Eve, and  she refused him.
“Adam will kill me.”
Iblis adjured her with many oaths, until she consent- ed. Iblis then departed, and Adam returned  to discover the child with her once more.
“God knows what will happen now,” he cried out in anger. “You heed his words and not mine.”
Furious,  he slew Khannas  and  cooked  him.  He  ate one  half  himself,  and  the  other  half  he  gave  to Eve.

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(They  also  say  that  on  the  final  occasion  Iblis  had brought  Khannas  back  in the  form  of a  sheep.)  Iblis returned  and  demanded  his son.  Eve  recounted  what had transpired.
“He  cooked   him.  One  half  I  ate,  and  one  half
Adam.”
“This was what I was after,” Iblis shouted.  “I aimed to insinuate myself into Adam. Now that his breast has become my abode,  my purpose  is realized.”


Khair al-Nassaj

Abu ‘1-Hasan Mohammad ibn Esma’il (Khair ibn
‘Abd Allah) al-Nassaj  of Samarra,  a pupil of Sari al-Saqati  and a member of al-Jonaid’s circle, was taken as a slave in Basra but afterwards proceed- ed to Mecca. He is said to have lived to the age of
120, dying in 322 (924).

The story of Khair-e Nassaj
Khair-e Nassaj was the chief master of his time. A pupil of I Sari-e Saqati,  he influenced  Shebli and Ebrahim-e Khauwas | and was greatly admired by Jonaid. The fol- lowing  was  the  reason  why  he  was  called  Khair-e Nassaj.  Leaving his native I town  Samarra  bound  for the pilgrimage,  on the way he passed | through  Kufa. He arrived  at the  gates  of Kufa clad in a patchwork robe, he himself being black of complexion, so that all who beheld him would cry, “The man appears a fool!” There a certain man espied him.
“I will employ him for a few days,”  he said to him- self. Then he approached him.
“Are you a slave?” he asked. “Yes,” he replied.
“Have you run away from your master?” “Yes.”

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“I will take charge of you until I can restore you to your master,”  the man said.
“That  is what I am seeking myself,” said Khair. “All my life I have been longing to find someone who will restore me to my Master.”
The man took him to his home. “Your name is Khair,” he said.
Khair  did  not  gainsay  him,  believing  firmly  in  the saying  that  “a  believer  does  not  lie”.  He  went  along with  him and  served him.  The man  taught  Khair  the craft of weaving.  For  years  he  worked  for  the  man. Whenever   he  called  out,  “Khair!”  he  would   reply “Here am I!” At last the man repented,  having seen his sincerity,  perfect behaviour  and  intuitive  powers,  and having witnessed the constancy  of his devotions.
“I made a mistake,” he announced. “You are not my slave. Go wherever you wish.”
Khair  then  departed  for  Mecca,  where  he  attained such  a high  degree  of saintliness  that  Jonaid  himself declared, “Khair is the best of us.” He preferred people to call him Khair.
“It would not be right,”  he would say, “for a broth-  er Muslim to give me a name and for me to change it.” From time to time he practised weaving. Sometimes
he used to go down to the Tigris and the fishes would make  advances  to him and  bring  him  various  things. One  day he was  weaving  muslin  for  an old woman.

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The old woman  said, “If I bring a dirham  and do not find you here, to whom shall I give it?”
“Throw  it in the river,” Khair replied.
The old woman  brought  the dirham,  and Khair not being  there  she threw  it into  the Tigris.  When  Khair returned  to the bank the 1Sshes brought  that dirham to him.
It is said that Khair lived to the age of I20. When his death drew near, it was the time of the evening prayer. Azrael cast his shadow,  and Khair raised his head from the pillow.
“God preserve you!” he cried. “Wait a little. You are a slave under  orders,  and  I am a slave  under  orders. You have been told to collect my soul. I have been told,
‘When the time for prayer comes, pray.’ That time has now  come.  You  will  have  plenty  of  opportunity to carry out your orders. For me it is now or never. Please be patient  until I have performed  the evening prayer.”
Khair   then   washed   himself   and   performed   the prayer. Immediately  afterwards he died.




Abu  Bakr al-Kattani

Abu Bakr Mohammad ibn ‘Ali ibn Ja’far al- Kattani,  a native of Baghdad, belonged to the cir- cle of al-Jonaid.  He proceeded  to Mecca  on the pilgrimage,  and took up residence there until his death in 322 (934).

The piety of Abu Bakr-e Kattani
Abu   Bakr-e   Kattani   was   called   the   Lamp   of   the Sanctuary.  He was a resident in Mecca up to the day of his death.  He used to pray  all the  night through  and chant  the  entire  Koran;  in  the course  of circling  the Kaaba he completed twelve thousand recitations in all. For thirty  years he was seated in the sanctuary  under the waterspout, and in all those thirty years one ritual washing   every   twenty-four   hours   sufficed   him. Throughout the whole period he never slept.
At the beginning of his career he sought permission  from his mother  to go on the pilgrimage.
“When   I  was   proceeding   into   the   desert,”   he recalled, “a state overtook  me compelling  me to wash for self-purification. I told  myself that  perhaps  I had not set out under the proper auspices; so I turned back. I reached  home  to  find my mother  seated  behind  the door of the house, waiting for me. ‘Mother,’ I said, ‘did

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you not give me leave?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But without you I could  not  bear  to look  at the  house.  Since you departed   I  have  been  seated  here.  I  resolved  that  I would  not rise up until you came back again.’ It was not until my mother died that I ventured into the desert once more.”

Abu Bakr-e Kattani  tells the following story.
I was deep in the desert when I caught sight of a dead man. He was smiling.
“What,  are you dead and still smiling?” I cried. “Such is the love of God,”  he replied.
“I felt a little  resentment  in my heart  towards the Prince of the Faithful, Ali,” Abu Bakr confessed. “That was for no other reason than because the Prophet  had said, ‘There is no true knight but Ali.’ It was a part of that  knightliness  that,  although  Mo’awiya  was in the wrong  and he was in the right,  nevertheless  Ali abdi- cated  in  Mo’awiya’s   favour  in  order  that  so  much blood should not be spilled.
“Now   I  had  a  little  house  between  Marwa  and Safa,”  he  continued. “There  I saw  the  Prophet  in a dream, together with his blessed companions. He came up to me and, taking  me into his embrace,  pointed  to Abu Bakr and said, ‘Who is he?’ ‘Abu Bakr,’ I replied. Then  he  pointed  to  Omar.   ‘Omar,’  I  said.  Then  he pointed  to Othman. ‘Othman,’  I said. Lastly he point-

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ed to Ali. I felt ashamed  because  of the  resentment  I entertained. Then the Prophet  gave me to Ali in broth- erhood and we embraced each other. After that they all departed, and only  myself  and Ali remained.  ‘Come,’ said Ali to me, ‘let us go to Mount  Abu Qobais.’  We climbed to the top of the mountain and looked down on the Kaaba. When I awoke, I found myself on Mount Abu Qobais.  Not a trace of that resentment  remained  in my heart.

“I was once in the company  of a certain  man,” he also  related,  “and  his  society  bore  heavily  on  me.  I made him a present,  but still that heaviness did not go away.  I took  him to  my house  and  said to him,  ‘Put your foot on my face.’ He would not do so, but I insist- ed until finally he put his foot on my face and kept it there so long that the heaviness vanished and changed into love. Now I had received as a gift from a lawful source  two   hundred   dirhams.   I   fetched   them   and placed  them  on the  corner  of  his prayer  rug.  ‘Spend these on yourself,’ I told him. Looking at me out of the corner  of his eye he said, ‘I have purchased  this occa- sion at a cost of seventy thousand dinars. Do you want to delude me with this?’ Then he rose up, shook out his prayer rug and departed. I had never experienced  any- thing like his dignity and my humiliation as when I was picking up those dirhams.”

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Abu Bakr-e Kattani  had  a disciple who  was in  the agonies of death.  He opened  his eyes and gazed upon the  Kaaba.  A camel  came  along  at  the  moment  and kicked his face, gouging out his eye.
Immediately  Abu Bakr heard  a voice saying  within him, “In this state when authentic revelations  from the Unseen were coming to him, he gazed at the Kaaba. So he was punished.  It is not right in the presence of the Lord of the House to gaze at the House.”

One day a luminous  elder majestically wrapped in a cloak entered by the Gate of the Banu Shaiba and went up to Kattani,  who was standing  with head bowed.
“Why,”  he  asked  after  the  exchange  of  greetings, “do  you  not  go to the  Station  of  Abraham?  A great teacher has come and is relating noble traditions. Come and listen to him.”
“On  whose  authority is he  relating,  sir?”  Kattani  asked.
“On  the authority of Abd Allah ibn Ma’mar,  from Zohri,  from Abu Horaira, from the Prophet,” the elder replied.
“Master, you have produced  a long chain of author- ities,” Kattani remarked. “Whatever they are reporting there  by  authoritative chain  of  transmission, we  are hearing here without any chain.”

abu  bakr al-kattani    345

“From whom are you hearing?”  asked the elder. “My heart reported  to me direct from my Lord . . .”
said Kattani.
“Do   you  have   any  proof   of  your   assertion?”
demanded  the elder.
“My  proof,”   replied  Kattani,  “is  that  my  heart is telling me that you are Khezr.”
“Till then,”  Khezr remarked, “I had always thought that there was no friend of God whom I did not know. That  was  until  I saw  Abu  Bakr-e  Kattani.  I did  not know him, but he knew me. Then I realized that  God has friends who know me but whom I do not know.”

Kattani  also related as follows.
I saw in a dream an extremely handsome youth. “Who are you?” I enquired.
“Piety,” he replied.
“Where  do you dwell?” I asked.
“In the heart,”  he answered,  “of the sorrowful.” Then I saw a most hideous, black woman.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Laughter   and    gaiety    and    enjoyment,”    she answered.
“Where  do you dwell?”
“In the hearts of the heedless and those who amuse themselves.”

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When I awoke,  I resolved that  I would  never laugh again, except when I could not help myself.


Ibn Khafif

One of the great saints of Persia, Abu ‘Abd Allah Mohammad ibn Khafif ibn Esfakshad  was born in Shiraz in 270 (882), it is said of a princely fam- ily.  After   a  broad   education   he  travelled   to Baghdad,  and there met al-Hallaj  and other Sufis of the capital.  He made the pilgrimage  to Mecca at least six times, and is reported  also to have vis- ited Egypt, and Asia Minor.  Author  of a number of  books,  he  died  in  his  native  city  at  a  very advanced  age in 371 (982).

The asceticism of Ibn Khafif
Ibn  Khafif  of Fars  was  of royal  descent.  He  was so called because  he carried  a light burden,  was light of spirit  and  will face a light  reckoning. Every night  his meal on breaking  his fast consisted of seven raisins, no more. One night the servitor gave him eight. He did not realize, and ate them. Finding no pleasure in his devo- tions, contrary  to his nightly experience, he summoned the servant and interrogated him.
“I gave you eight raisins tonight,” the servant admitted. “Why?”  demanded  Ibn Khafif.
“I  saw  that  you  were  enfeebled,  and  it  hurt  my heart,”  said the servant.  “I said to myself, if only you would get some strength.”

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“So  you  were  not  my friend  but  my enemy,”  Ibn Khafif  cried.  “If  you had  been  my friend  you would have given me six, not eight.”
And he dismissed him from his service and appoint- ed another  servant.

Ibn Khafif recalled the following.
At the beginning of my career I wished to go on the pilgrimage.  When  I reached  Baghdad,  my  head  was filled with  so much  conceit  that  I did  not  go to see Jonaid. As I travelled deep in the desert, carrying a rope and a bucket,  thirst overcame me. I espied a well from which a deer was drinking.  Just as I reached  the edge of the well the water vanished into its depths.
“God,” I cried, “is Abd Allah of less worth than this deer?”
“This  deer  did  not  have  a  bucket  and  a  rope,”  I
heard a voice say. “His reliance was on Us.”
Full of joy, I flung  away  the  bucket  and  rope  and went on my way.
“Abd  Allah,”  I  heard  the  voice  again,  “We  were putting you to the test. Since you have shown fortitude, return and drink.”
I returned  to find the water  up to the brim  of  the well. I performed  my ablutions  and drank. Then I set out  once  more,  and  all the way to  Medina  I had  no need of water again because of my ritual purity.

ibn  khafif     349

When  I was back  in Baghdad,  on Friday  I  went  to mosque. Jonaid there caught sight of me and addressed  me.
“Had  you been truly patient,  the water  would have gushed forth from beneath  your feet.”

In  my  youth   (Ibn  Khafif  also  related)   a  certain dervish came to call on me. Observing in me the marks of hunger,  he invited me to his house. Some meat had been cooking, and the smell of it pervaded the house so that  I was  repelled  and  could  not  eat.  The  dervish, noticing this disdain in me, was filled with shame. I too was overcome by confusion.  So I left the table and set out with some companions.
After reaching  Qadesiya  we lost our way, and were out  of provisions.  We bore  up for some  days,  till we came to the brink  of destruction. Things were so bad that  we bought  a dog at a  high price and  roasted  it. They gave me a  morsel. I was about  to eat it when  I remembered the episode of the dervish and the food he had offered me.
“This,”  I told myself, “is in punishment for that day when the dervish was put to shame before me.”
I repented,  so that the way was shown to us. When I
returned  home, I begged that dervish’s pardon.
One  day I heard  of an elder and  a youth  in  Egypt who were engaged  in perpetual meditation. I went to

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Egypt,  and  there  saw  two  persons  with  their  faces turned to Mecca. I greeted them thrice, but they did not answer me.
“God save you,” I cried. `’Answer my greeting!” “Ibn Khafif,” said the youth lifting up his head, “this
world  is a  little  thing,  and  of this  little  only  a  little remains.  Of this little take a large portion, Ibn Khafif! Perhaps you have time to spare to trouble to greet us.” So saying, he lowered his head. Though  hungry and thirsty,  I  forgot  my  hunger,   so  completely  did  they entrance  me.  I  waited,  and  performed  the  noon  and
afternoon  prayers with them. Then I spoke. “Give me counsel.”
“Ibn  Khafif,  we are men of affliction,” he  replied. “We have  not  the tongue  to offer  advice.  Another  is needed to counsel the afflicted.”
I remained there three days without eating and sleep- ing.
“What  can I say to adjure  them to counsel  me?”  I
asked myself.
The youth lifted his head.
“Seek the company  of someone,  the sight of whom will remind  you  of God  and  the  awe  of  whom  will move your heart,  someone  who will counsel you with the tongue of deeds, not words.”
One year I was staying in Byzantium. One day I went out into the desert. They brought  along a monk wast-

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ed as a shadow,  burned  him, and smeared his ashes on the eyes of the blind. By the omnipotent power of God they recovered their sight. The sick also partook of his ashes and were healed. I marvelled how this could be, seeing that they were following a false faith. That night I saw the Prophet  in a dream.
“Messenger  of God,  what  are you doing  there?”  I
asked.
“I have come for your sake,” the Prophet replied. “Messenger  of  God,   what   was  this   miracle?”   I
asked.
“It  was the result  of sincerity  and  self-discipline  in error,”  the Prophet  answered. “If it had been in truth, how then would it have been!”

Ibn Khafif and his wives
One midnight  Ibn Khafif summoned  his servant. “Bring me a woman,” he said. “I want one.” “Where  shall I go in the middle  of the  night?”  the
servant  replied.  “But  I have a daughter. If the  master gives me permission,  I will fetch her.”
“Fetch her,” Ibn Khafif ordered.
The  servant  brought   his  daughter, and  Ibn  Khafif married her on the spot. Seven months later a child was born,  but it died.
“Tell your daughter  to divorce me,” Ibn Khafif said to his servant.  “Else if she wishes, she may stay on.”

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“Master, what  is the  mystery  in this?”  the  servant asked.
“The night of our marriage,” Ibn Khafif explained,  “I dreamed  that  it was the resurrection. Many  people were standing stupefied, up to their necks in sweat. All at once a child came along, took its mother  and father by  the hand  and led them swift as the wind  over  the bridge between Hell and Heaven. I too desired to have a  child.  When  that  child  came  into  the  world  and departed, my goal was attained.”
It is said that  thereafter  Ibn Khafif contracted  four hundred marriages.  For being of royal  descent,  when he repented and achieved perfect saintliness he received proposals  from all sides. He married  two or three at a time. One lady, the daughter  of the vizier, was married  to him for forty years.
His wives were once asked how Ibn Khafif behaved with them privately.
“We   know   nothing   about   his  company,”   they replied.  “If  anyone  knows,  it  would  be  the  vizier’s daughter.”
So they asked her.
“When  I learned  that  the shaikh  was coming  that night  to my apartment,” she said,  “I  would  prepare  delicious  dishes  and  adorn  myself. When  he arrived and saw what  I had done, he would send for me and look  at me for  a  while.  Then  he would  contemplate

ibn  khafif     353

the food for a while. Then one night he took my hand and drew it into his sleeve and rubbed it over his belly. I felt fifteen knots  from his breast to his navel. ‘Girl, ask  me  what  these  knots  are,’  he  said.  ‘What  are they?’ I asked. ‘All these,’ he replied,  ‘are the violent flames of fortitude  which I fastened knot  by knot,  to withstand your offering of such beauty and such deli- cious fare.’ He then left me. That was the only time I was  bold  with  him,  so  extreme  was  his  self-disci- pline.”

Anecdotes  of Ibn Khafif
Ibn  Khafif  had  two  disciples,  one  called  Ahmad the Older and the other  Ahmad  the  Younger.  The shaikh favoured  Ahmad  the Younger  the more.  His compan-  ions were jealous,  arguing  that  Ahmad  the Older  had performed  many  tasks  and  endured  much  discipline. The shaikh,  learning of this, desired to demonstrate to them  that  Ahmad  the  Younger  was  the  better  of the two. Now a camel was sleeping at the door of the con- vent.
“Ahmad  the Older!”  Ibn Khafif cried out. “Here  am I,” Ahmad the Older responded.
“Carry  that  camel up to the roof  of the  convent,” Ibn Khafif ordered.
“Master,” Ahmad  the  Older  protested, “how  is  it possible to carry a camel on to the roof?”

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“That   is  enough,”  Ibn  Khafif  said.  “Ahmad  the
Younger!”
“Here am I,” replied Ahmad the Younger.
“Carry  that camel on to the roof of the convent!” Ahmad  the Younger  at once girded his loins, rolled
up his sleeves and ran out of the convent. Putting his two hands under the camel, he tried with all his might but could not lift the beast.
“Well done! Now we know,”  Ibn Khafif exclaimed. Then turning to his companions he added, “Ahmad the Younger  did  his duty.  He  obeyed  my command  and offered no objection. He had regard to my command, not  to whether  the  task  could  be carried  out  or  no. Ahmad the Older was only concerned to argue and dis- pute. From outward actions one can perceive the inner intention.”

A traveller came to visit Ibn Khafif wearing  a black robe, a black shawl, black breeches and a black shirt. The shaikh felt inwardly  a sense of jealousy. When the traveller had performed  two rak’as and spoken a greet- ing, Ibn Khafif addressed  him.
“Brother,  why are you dressed in black?”
“Because my gods are dead.”  (He meant  the carnal soul and caprice.) “Hast  thou seen him who has taken his caprice to be his god?”
“Put him out!” cried Ibn Khafif.

ibn  khafif    355

They drove him out with contumely.  “Now  bring him back!”
They brought  him back. Forty times the same treat- ment was repeated.  Then Ibn Khafif arose and kissed his head and begged his pardon.
“You have every right to wear black,” he said. “In all the forty times they insulted  you, you never lost your composure.”

Two  Sufis  came  from  a  far  distance  to  visit  Ibn Khafif. Not  finding him in the convent,  they enquired  where he might be.
“In the palace of Azod al-Daula,” came the answer. “What business  has  the  shaikh  with  the  palace  of princes?”  they demanded. “Alas for our high opinion  of him! “ Then they added, “Well, we will make a tour
of the city.”
They proceeded  to the bazaars,  and made their way to a tailor’s  shop  to have a stitch  put  in  the front  of their gown. The tailor’s scissors were missing.
“You  took  the  scissors!”  the  crowd  shouted,  and they handed  them over to a policeman.  The two Sufis were hustled to the palace.
“Strike off their hands!”  ordered  Azod al-Daula. “Wait!” exclaimed  Ibn  Khafif  who  was  present  in
the court. “This is not their doing.”  So the two were set free.

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“Good  sirs,” Ibn Khafif addressed  them, “what you thought was  perfectly  just.  But  our  resorting to  the palace of princes is precisely for such purposes.”
The Sufis thereupon became his disciples.


Al-Hallaj

The  most  controversial figure  in the  history  of Islamic mysticism, Abu ‘l-Moghith  al-Hosain  ibn Mansur  al-Hallaj  was born C. 244 (858) near al- Baiza’ in the province  of Fars. He travelled  very widely,  first  to  Tostar   and  Baghdad,   then  to Mecca,  and afterwards to Khuzestan,  Khorasan, Transoxiana, Sistan, India and Turkestan. Eventually  he  returned   to  Baghdad,  where  his bold preaching  of union with God caused him to be  arrested  on  a  charge  of  incarnationism.  He was condemned  to death and cruelly executed on
29 Dhu ‘l-Qa’da 309 (28 March  9I3). Author  of a number  of books and a considerable  volume of poetry,  he passed into Muslim legend as the pro- totype of the intoxicated lover of God.

The wanderings  of Hallaj
Hosain-e   Mansur,   called  Hallaj   (“the  Woolcarder”) first  came  to  Tostar,  where  he  served  Sahl  ibn  Abd Allah for two years; then he set out for Baghdad.  He made his first journey at the age of eighteen.
Thereafter he  went  to  Basra  and  joined  Amr  ibn Othman, passing  eighteen  months   in  his  company. Ya’qub-e  Aqta’  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage,

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after  which Amr ibn Othman became displeased with him. So he left Basra and came to Baghdad where he called on Jonaid. Jonaid prescribed for him silence and solitude.  He  endured  Jonaid’s  company  for  a  while, then  he  made  for  Hejaz.  He  took   up  residence  in Mecca   for   one   year,   after   which   he   returned to Baghdad.  With a group of Sufis he attended on Jonaid and put a number  of questions  to him to which Jonaid gave no reply.
“The time will soon come,” Jonaid told him, “when  you will incarnadine a piece of wood.”
“The  day when I incarnadine that  piece of wood,” Hallaj replied, “you will be wearing the garb of the for- malists.”
So it turned out. On the day when the leading schol- ars pronounced the verdict that Hallaj must be execut- ed, Jonaid was wearing  the Sufi robe and did not sign the  warrant. The  caliph  said  that  Jonaid’s  signature was necessary.  So Jonaid  put on the academic  turban and gown, went to the madrasa  and endorsed the war- rant. “We judge according to externals,” he wrote. “As for the inward  truth,  that God alone knows.”
When   Jonaid   declined   to  answer   his   questions,  Hallaj was vexed and without asking leave departed  to Tostar. There he remained for a year, widely acclaimed.  But because  he attached  no  weight  to the  prevailing doctrine,  the  theologians  turned  envious  against  him.

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Meanwhile  Amr  ibn Othman wrote  letters  regarding  him to the people of Khuzestan, blackening him in their eyes. He too had grown  weary  of that  place.  Casting aside  the  Sufi garb,  he donned  tunic  and  passed  his time in the company of worldly folk. That made no dif- ference to him, however, and for five years he vanished. Part   of   that   period   he   spent   in   Khorasan    and Transoxiana, part in Sistan.
Hallaj then returned  to Ahwaz, where his preaching won the approval  of the elite and the public alike. He would speak  of men’s secrets, so  that  he was dubbed  “Hallaj  of the Secrets”. After that he dressed himself in the  ragged  dervish  robes  and  set  out  for  the  Sacred Territory,  accompanied by many in like attire. When he reached Mecca, Ya’qub-e Nahrajuri denounced  him as a magician.  So he returned  to Basra, then to Ahwaz.
“Now  I am going to the lands of polytheism,  to call men to God,”  he announced.
So he went  to India,  then  to Transoxiana,  then  to China,  calling men to God and composing works  for them. When he returned from the distant  parts  of the world, the peoples of those regions wrote  him letters. The  Indians  addressed   him  as  Abu  ‘l-Moghith,   the Chinese as Abo ‘l-Mo’in, the Khorasanians as Abu ‘l- Mohr,  the Farsis as Abu ‘Abd Allah, the Khuzestanis as Hallaj   of  the   Secrets.   In   Baghdad   he   was   called Mostalem, in Basra Mokhabbar.

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The passion of Hallaj
After that  many tales about  Hallaj  began to circulate. So he set out for Mecca where he resided for two years. On his return,  his circumstances were much changed. He was a different  man, calling people to the “truth” in  terms  which  no one understood. It is said that  he was expelled from fifty cities.
In their bewilderment the people were divided con- cerning  him.  His  detractors were  countless, his  sup- porters  innumerable. They  witnessed  many  wonders performed by  him.  Tongues  wagged,  and  his  words were carried to the caliph. Finally all were united in the view that he should be put to death because of his say- ing, “I am the Truth.”
“Say, He is the Truth,” they cried out to him.
“Yes. He is All,” he replied. “You say that He is lost. On the contrary, it is Hosain  that  is lost.  The Ocean does not vanish or grow less.”
“These  words  which Hallaj  speaks have an esoteric meaning,”  they told Jonaid.
“Let  him be killed,”  he answered.  “This  is not  the time for esoteric meanings.”
Then  a  group  of  the  theologians   made  common cause against  Hallaj  and  carried  a  garbled  version  of his words  to Mo’tasem; they also turned  his vizier Ali ibn ’Isa against him. The caliph ordered that he should be thrown  into  prison.  There  he was held for a year. But people would come and consult him on their prob-

al-hallaj    361

lems. So then  they were prevented  from visiting  him, and for five months  no one came near him, except Ibn
‘Ata once and  Ibn Khafif once.  On one occasion  Ibn
‘Ata sent him a message.
“Master, ask pardon  for the words you have spoken, that you may be set free.”
“Tell  him  who  said  this  to  ask  pardon,”  Hallaj replied.
Ibn ‘Ata wept when he heard this answer.
“We are not even a fraction  of Hallaj,”  he said.
It is said that  on the first night of his imprisonment the gaolers came to his cell but could not find him in the prison.  They searched  through  all the prison,  but could  not  discover  a  soul.  On  the  second  night  they found neither him nor the prison,  for all their hunting.  On the third night they discovered him in the prison.
“Where were you on the first night, and where were you and the prison on the second night?” they demand-  ed. “Now  you have both reappeared. What phenome-  non is this?”
“On   the  first  night,”   he  replied,   “I  was  in  the Presence, therefore I was not here. On the second night the Presence was here, so that both of us were absent.  On the third night 1 was sent back, that the Law might be preserved.  Come and do your work!”
When Hallaj was first confined there were three hun- dred souls in the prison. That night he addressed  them.
“Prisoners,  shall I set you free?”

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“Why do you not free yourself?”  they replied.
“I am God’s captive. I am the sentinel of salvation,” he answered.  “If I so wish, with one signal I can loose all bonds.”
Hallaj  made  a  sign  with  his  finger,  and  all  their bonds burst asunder.
“Now  where are we to go?” the prisoners demand-  ed. “The gate of the prison is locked.”
Hallaj  signalled  again,  and  cracks  appeared  in  the walls.
“Now go on your way,” he cried.
“Are you not coming too?”  they asked.
“No,”  he replied.  “I have a secret with Him which cannot  be told save on the gallows.”
“Where have the prisoners gone?” the warders asked him next morning.
“I set them free,” Hallaj answered. “Why did you not go?” they enquired.
“God  has  cause  to chide  me, so I did not  go,”  he replied.
This story was carried to the caliph.
“There  will be a riot,”  he cried.  “Kill him, or  beat him with sticks until he retracts.”
They beat  him with  sticks three  hundred  times.  At every blow a clear voice was heard  to say, “Fear  not, son of Mansur!  “
Then they led him out to be crucified.

al-hallaj    363

Loaded with thirteen heavy chains, Hallaj strode out proudly  along  the  way  waving  his  arms  like  a  very vagabond.
“Why do you strut so proudly?” they asked him. “Because  I  am  going  to  the  slaughterhouse,”  he
replied. And he recited in clear tones,

My boon-companion’s not to be
Accused  of mean inequity.
He made me drink  like him the best, As does the generous host his guest;
And  when  the round  was quite complete  He called for sword and winding-sheet. Such is his fate, who drinks  past reason With  Draco in the summer  season.

When they brought  him to the base of the gallows at Bab al-Taq,  he kissed the wood  and set his foot upon the ladder.
“How do you feel?” they taunted  him.
“The  ascension  of true  men  is the  top  of the  gal- lows,” he answered.
He was wearing  a loincloth  about  his middle and a mantle  on his shoulders.  Turning  towards  Mecca,  he lifted up his hands and communed with God.
“What  He knows, no man knows,” he said. Then he climbed the gibbet.

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“What  do you say,” asked a group of his followers, “concerning us who are your disciples, and these who condemn  you and would stone you?”
“They have a double  reward,  and you a single,” he answered.   “You  merely  think  well  of  me.  They  are moved  by the strength  of their  belief in One  God  to maintain  the rigour of the Law.”
Shebli came and stood facing him.
“Have  we not forbidden  thee all beings?” he cried. Then he asked, “What is Sufism, Hallaj?”
“The  least  part  of  it  is this  that  you  see,”  Hallaj replied.
“What  is the loftier part?”  asked Shebli. “That  you cannot  reach,”  Hallaj answered.
Then   all  the  spectators   began   to  throw   stones. Shebli, to conform,  cast a clod. Hallaj sighed.
“You did not  sigh when  struck  by all these  stones. Why did you sigh because of a clod?” they asked.
“Because those who cast stones do not know what they  are  doing.  They  have  an  excuse.  From  him  it comes hard to me, for he knows that he ought  not to fling at me.”
Then they cut off his hands. He laughed. “Why do you laugh?”  they cried.
“It is an easy matter  to strike off the hands of a man who is bound,” he answered.  “He is a true man, who cuts  off  the  hands  of  attributes  which  remove  the crown of aspiration from the brow of the Throne.”

al-hallaj    365

They hacked off his feet. He smiled.
“With these feet I made an earthly journey,” he said. “Other feet  I have,  which  even  now  are  journeying  through both the worlds. If you are able, hack off those feet!”
Then  he rubbed  his bloody,  amputated hands  over his face, so that both his arms and his face were stained with blood.
“Why did you do that?”  they enquired.
“Much  blood  has  gone  out  of me,”  he  replied.  “I realize that my face will have grown pale. You suppose that  my pallor  is because I am afraid.  I rubbed  blood over  my face so that  I  might  appear  rose-cheeked  in your eyes. The cosmetic of heroes is their blood.”
“Even if you bloodied  your face, why did you stain your arms?”
“I was making ablution.” “What ablution?”
“When one prays two rak’as in love,” Hallaj replied, “the  ablution   is  not  perfect  unless  performed   with blood.”
Next they plucked out his eyes. A roar went up from the crowd.  Some wept,  some flung stones.  Then  they made to cut out his tongue.
“Be patient a little, give me time to speak one word,” he  entreated. “O  God,”  he  cried,  lifting  his  face  to heaven, “do not exclude them for the suffering they are bringing  on me for Thy sake, neither  deprive them of

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this felicity. Praise be to God, for that they have cut off my feet as I trod  Thy way. And if they  strike  off my head from my body, they have raised me up to the head of the gallows, contemplating Thy majesty.”
Then they cut off his ears and nose. An old woman  carrying  a pitcher  happened  along.  Seeing Hallaj,  she cried, “Strike,  and strike hard and true. What business has this pretty little Woolcarder to speak of God?”
The last words Hallaj spoke were these. “Love of the One  is isolation  of  the  One.”  Then  he  chanted  this verse: “Those  that believe not therein seek to hasten it; but those who believe in it go in fear of it, knowing that it is the truth.”
This was his final utterance. They then  cut  out  his tongue. It was the time of the evening prayer when they cut off his head. Even as they were cutting off his head, Hallaj smiled. Then he gave up the ghost.
A great cry went up from the people. Hallaj had car- ried the ball of destiny to the boundary of the field of resignation. From each one of his  members  came the declaration, “I am the Truth.”
Next  day they declared,  “This  scandal  will be even greater  than  while he was alive.”  So they  burned  his limbs. From his ashes came the cry, “I am the Truth,” even as in the time of his slaying every drop of blood as it trickled formed the word Allah. Dumbfounded, they cast his ashes into the Tigris. As they floated on the sur-

al-hallaj    367

face  of  the  water,  they  continued   to  cry,  “I  am  the
Truth.”
Now Hallaj had said, “When they cast my ashes into the Tigris, Baghdad will be in peril of drowning  under the  water.   Lay  my  robe  in  front   of  the  water,   or Baghdad will be destroyed.” His servant,  when he saw what had happened, brought  the master’s robe and laid it on the bank of the Tigris. The waters subsided,  and his ashes became  silent. Then  they gathered  his  ashes and buried them.




Ebrahim  al-Khauwas

Abu Eshaq  Ebrahim  ibn Ahmad  al-Khauwas of Samarra,  a companion of al-Jonaid,  is famous for his long journeys in the desert. He died at Rayy in
291 (904).

Ebrahim-e  Khauwas in the desert
Ebrahim-e  Khauwas,  a  contemporary of  Jonaid  and Nuri, was known  as the Chief of the Trustful. So com- plete was  his  trust  in God,  that  he  would  cross  the desert  on  the  scent  of an  apple.  For  all that  he was unique in his trustfulness, he was never without a nee- dle, a thread,  a flask and a pair of scissors. Asked why he carried  these,  he answered,  “That  much  does  not impair trust.”  He told the following stories of the mar- vels he had seen on his journeys.

I  was  once  travelling  through   the  desert  when  I espied a maiden in the throes of ecstasy, wandering  dis- traught  with her head uncovered.
“Maiden, cover your head,”  I cried. “Khauwas, close your eyes!” she retorted.
“I am in love,” I said, “and the lover does not cover his eyes. But my eyes involuntarily fell upon you.”
“I am intoxicated,” she answered,  “and  the drunk-  ard does not cover his head.”

370     ebrahim  al-khauwas

“At  which  tavern  did  you  become  intoxicated?”  I
asked.
“Have a care, Khauwas,” she cried. “You are imped- ing me. Is there any in the two abodes but God?”
“Maiden, would you have my company?” I asked. “You  are  callow,  Khauwas,” she  answered.  “I  am
not the sort that is looking for a man!”

Once I beheld Khezr in the desert in the form of a fly- ing bird. When I espied him so, I lowered my head that my  trust   might   not   become   void.   Immediately   he approached me and said,  ‘If  you  had looked  at me, I would  not  have  descended  on  you.”  I did  not  greet him, lest my trust should be impaired.

One day in the desert I came upon a tree where there was  water.  I beheld  a huge  lion  making  for  me, and committed   myself  to  God.   When   he  came  near   I noticed  that  he was limping. He laid down  before me and  groaned.   I  looked  and  saw  that  his  paw  was swollen and gangrenous. So I look a stick and cut open the paw, till all the pus was drained;  then I bandaged the  paw  with  a  rag.  The  lion  arose  and  went  away. Presently the lion returned bringing  his cub. They cir- cled  around   me  wagging  their  tails,  and  brought   a round bread and laid it before me.

ebrahim  al-khauwas     371

Once I had lost my way in the desert. I pushed on some distance,  but  could  not  find the way.  For sev- eral  days  I went  on  like that,  till  at  last  I heard  a cock crowing.  I rejoiced, and hastened  in that  direc- tion.  I sighted  a  person  who  promptly  ran  up  and struck  me on the  neck.  The  blow  hurt,  and  I cried out.
“O God,  that  is how  they treat  one who  puts  his trust in Thee!”
“So long as you put  your  trust  in Me,”  I  heard  a voice say, “you were precious  in My sight. Now that you have put your trust in a cockcrow,  you have been beaten in consequence.”
Still in pain,  I continued  on my way. Then I heard a voice which said, “Khauwas, that pained you. Now look yonder!”
I looked,  and saw lying before me the head of the man who had struck me.

I  had  made  a  vow  that  I would  cross  the  desert without provisions and mount.  As I entered the desert a young man came after me and hailed me.
“Peace be upon you, O shaikh!”
I halted and answered  his greeting. Then I saw that the youth was a Christian.
“Do you allow me to accompany  you?” he asked.

372     ebrahim  al-khauwas

“Where  I am  going  you  may  not  come,  so  what advantage  will you gain in my company?” I replied.
“All  the same  I will come,”  he answered.  “It  may bring a blessing.”
For  a week  we journeyed  together.  On  the  eighth day my companion said,  “Good  Hanifite  ascetic,  be bold with your God, for I am hungry. Ask for some- thing.”
“My God,” I prayed, “by the merits of Mohammad, peace be upon him, do not put me to shame before this stranger,  but manifest something out of the Unseen.”
Immediately I beheld a dish appear  filled with bread and roast  fish and dates, and a jug of water. We both sat down and applied ourselves to the fare.
We pushed on for another  week. Then on the eighth day I said to my companion, “Monk, now display your power too. I am hungry.”
Leaning on his staff, the young man moved his lips. Two  tables  appeared   covered  with  halwa,  fish  and dates, and two jugs of water.  I was amazed.
“Ascetic, eat!” the Christian  cried.
I was too shamefaced  to eat anything.
“Eat,”  he repeated,  “then  I will give you some good news.”
“I will not eat until you tell me your good news,” I
replied.

ebrahim  al-khauwas     373

“The first piece of good news is this, that  I am cut- ting my girdle.”
With that he cut his girdle.
“I testify that  there is no god but God, and I testify that  Mohammad is the Messenger  of  God,”  he said. “The  other  piece of good news is this, that  I said, ‘O God, by the merits of this elder who is of value in Thy sight and whose religion is true, send Thou food that I may not be put to shame before him.’ This too was by your blessing.”
So we ate, and proceeded on our way till we came to Mecca.  There he resided in the Holy Territory  till his term drew nigh.

I  was  passing  one  day  through  the  parts  of  Syria when  I espied  some  pomegranate-trees.  My appetite  was whetted,  but  I controlled  myself and  did not  eat any because the pomegranates were sour, and I wanted  sweet ones. Presently I entered  a valley where I saw a man lying exhausted  and helpless. The worms had fall- en on  him,  and  hornets  buzzed  around  him  stinging him. My compassion  was moved by his pitiful  condi- tion.
“Would you like me to pray,” I said when I reached him,  “that   haply  you  may  be  delivered  out  of  this affliction?”

374     ebrahim  al-khauwas

“No,”  he replied. “Why not?”  I asked.
“Because healing is what I would choose, and afflic- tion is what He chooses,”  he answered.  “I do not pre- fer my choice above His choice.”
“At least let me drive these hornets away from you,” I said.
“Khauwas,” he answered,  “drive  away  from  your- self that  hankering  for  sweet  pomegranates. Why  do you  trouble  me?  Pray  for your  own  heart’s  healing. Why do you pray that my body may be made whole?”  “How  did you know that I am Khauwas?” I asked. “Whoever knows Him,” he replied, “from him noth-
ing remains hidden.”
“How do you feel with these hornets?” I enquired.  “So long as these hornets  sting me  and  the worms
devour me,” he answered,  “I am happy.”

Once  I heard  that  in Byzantium  there  was a  monk who had been living for seventy years in a monastery in the state of celibacy.
“Amazing!” I exclaimed.  “Forty  years is the qualifi- cation for being a monk.”
So I set forth  to call on him. When I came near he opened a little wicket.
“Ebrahim, why have you come?” he enquired.  “I am not seated here as a celibate.  I have a dog which falls

ebrahim  al-khauwas     375

upon people. Now I am seated here keeping watch over the dog and preventing  it from doing mischief to peo- ple. But for that, I am not what you supposed.”
“O   God,”   I  exclaimed   on  hearing   this   answer, “Thou  art able to guide Thy servant aright even when he is in very error!”
“Ebrahim,” the  monk  said  to me,  “how  long  will you search for men? Search for yourself, and when you have  found  yourself,  sit  in watch  over  yourself.  For every day this wayward desire puts on three hundred and sixty various guises of divinity and invites a man to error.”




al-Shebli

Abu Bakr Dolaf ibn Jahdar  (Ja’far ibn Yunos) al- Shebli,   of  Khorasan   by  origin   but   born   in Baghdad  or Samarra,  son of a court  official and himself promoted in the imperial service, as Governor  of Demavend was summoned  to Baghdad to be invested and there experienced conversion.   Joining  the  circle  of  al-Jonaid,   he became a leading figure in the stormy  history  of al-Hallaj,   notorious for  his  eccentric  behaviour which led to his committal to an asylum. He died in 334 (846) at the age of 87.

The calling of Shebli
Abu   Bakr-e   Shebli   was   originally   Governor   of Demavend. A dispatch  came  to  him  from  Baghdad, and he set out with the Governor  of Rayy and a retinue to  present  himself  before  the  caliph.   Having   been invested  by  the  caliph  with  robes  of  honour,  they returned  homewards. By chance the Governor of Rayy suddenly sneezed. He wiped his mouth and nose in his robe  of honour.  This  being reported  to the caliph,  he commanded  that he  should  be  stripped  of  his  robe, soundly cuffed and dismissed from his office of gover- nor. This opened Shebli’s eyes.

378     al-shebli

“One  who uses as a handkerchief a robe conferred by a mortal  being,” he mused, “is accounted  deserving to  be  deposed  and  slighted.  He  forfeits  his  robe  of office. What  then of  him  who  uses as a handkerchief the robe conferred by the King of the world—what will be done to him?”
At once he went to the caliph.
“Prince,”   he addressed  the  caliph,  “you,  a  mortal  being, do not approve  that  the robe conferred  by you should be treated disrespectfully, and it is well known  what  your  robe  is worth.  The King of the world  has given me a robe of honour,  even the love and knowl- edge of Him. How shall He ever approve my using it as a handkerchief in the service of a mortal?”
And he left the court and proceeded  to the assembly of Khair-e  Nassaj.  There  a miracle  happened  to him, and  Khair  sent him to Jonaid.  So Shebli came before Jonaid.
“You are recommended as an expert  on pearls,” he said. “Either  give me one, or sell one to me.”
“If I sell you one, you will not have the price of it, and if I give you one, having so easily come by it you will not realize its value,” Jonaid replied. “Do like me; plunge head first into this Sea, and if you wait patient-  ly you will obtain your pearl.”
“Now what shall I do?” asked Shebli.

al-shebli     379

“Go and sell sulphur  for a year,” said Jonaid.
Shebli did so. When  the year  was  up,  Jonaid  gave him new instructions.
“This work brings notoriety  and commerce. Go and beg for a year,  so that  you be not  busied  with  aught else.”
For   a  whole   year   Shebli  wandered   throughout Baghdad.  No one gave him anything. He returned  and reported  to Jonaid.
“Now  realize  your  own  worth,  for  you  count  for nothing  in  the  eyes  of  your  fellows,”   said  Jonaid. “Fasten   not  your  heart  on  them,  neither  have  any regard of them. For some days you were a chamberlain and for some days you acted as governor.  Now repair to  your  former  province  and  seek  quittance   of  the inhabitants there.”
Shebli returned  to Demavend  and went from house to house,  till only one victim of oppression remained.  That man he could not trace.
“With him in mind,”  Shebli recalled, “I distributed a hundred  thousand dirhams,  but still my heart  did not find rest.”
Four years went by in this way. Then he returned to
Jonaid.
“Some  fragment  of pomp  and  pride  still  lingers  in you,” said Jonaid. “Beg for another year.”

380     al-shebli

“Every   day  I  went   begging,”   Shebli   recalled.   ‘I brought  him all I got, and he would give it to the poor. At night he kept me hungry. When a year had gone by, he said to me, ‘Now I admit you to my companionship, but on one condition, that  you shall be the servant  of my  companions.’ So for a year I served the  compan- ions. Then Jonaid said to me, ‘Abu Bakr, what is your view of yourself now?’ ‘I regard myself as the least of God’s  creatures,’  I  replied.  ‘Now,’  remarked   Jonaid,
‘your faith is whole.”’
By then  Shebli had  progressed  to the point  that he would  fill his sleeve with sugar, and every boy he saw he would put a piece in his mouth.
“Say Allah!” he would say.
After  that   he  filled  his  sleeve  with  dirhams  and dinars.
“Every one who says Allah once, I will fill his mouth  with gold.”
Thereafter  the spirit  of jealousy  stirred  in him, and he unsheathed a sword.
“Every one who mentions  the name of Allah, I will strike off his head with this sword,”  he cried.
“Hitherto,” they said, “you  used to give sugar and gold. Now you will strike off heads?”
“Then  I supposed  that  they pronounced His  name out of true experience  and knowledge,” he explained.

al-shebli     381

“Now I realize that they speak it unheeding  and mere- ly out of habit.  I cannot  permit  Him to be name`1 by an impure tongue.”
After that  on every place he could find he inscribed the name of God. Suddenly a voice addressed  him.
“How  long will you go about  the name? If you are truly a seeker, stride forth on the quest of the Named!” These words affected him deeply. Peace and compo- sure altogether  deserted him. So powerful  was the love possessing him, so completely was he overwhelmed  by mystical tumult, that he went and flung himself into the Tigris. The river surged and cast him up on the bank. Then  he hurled  himself  into  the  fire,  but  the  flames affected him not. He sought a place where hungry lions were gathered  and cast himself before them; the lions all fled away from him. He threw himself down  from the summit of a mountain; the wind picked him up and deposited him on the ground.  His disquiet increased  a
thousandfold.
“Woe to him,”  he cried,  “whom  neither  water  nor fire will accept,  neither  the wild beasts nor the moun- tains!”
“He  who  is accepted  of  God,”  came  a  voice,  “is accepted of no other.”
Then  they  loaded  him with  chains  and  fetters  and carried him to the asylum.

382     al-shebli

“This man is mad,”  some shouted.
“In  your  eyes  I  am  mad  and  you  are  sane,”  he replied.  “May  God  augment   my  madness  and  your sanity, that by reason of that madness I may be admit- ted nearer  and nearer,  and because of that  sanity you may be driven farther and farther!”
The caliph sent one to care for him. The attendants came and by force thrust  the medicine in his throat.
“Do  not  put  yourself  to such  pains,”  Shebli  cried. “This  sickness is not  such as will yield to  healing  by medicine.”

Anecdotes  of Shebli
When  Shebli  was  confined  in chains  a  group  of  his companions one day went to visit him.
“Who are you?” he cried. “Your friends,”  they told him.
He at once began to throw stones at them, and they all fled.
“Liars!”   he  shouted.   “Do  friends  run  away  from their friend because of a few stones? This proves that you are friends of yourselves, not of me!”

Once  Shebli was  observed  running  with  a  burning  coal in his hand.
“Where  are you going?” they asked.
“I am running to set fire to the Kaaba,” he answered,

al-shebli    383

“so that men may henceforward care only for the Lord of the Kaaba.”
On another  occasion  he was holding  in his  hand  a piece of wood alight at both ends.
“What  are you going to do?” he was asked.
“I am going  to set Hell  on fire with  one  end  and Paradise with the other,”  he replied, “so that men may concern themselves only with God.”

Shebli  danced   once  for  several   days  and   nights beneath  a certain tree crying, “Hoo, Hoo.”
“What  is all this?” his friends demanded.
“This  ringdove  in yonder  tree is saying Coo Coo,” he explained.  “I am accompanying it with Hoo Hoo.” It is said that the ringdove did not stop cooing until
Shebli ceased hooing.

It is said that when Shebli first began his self-morti- fication,  for many long years he used to rub salt in his eyes so that he should not sleep. It is stated that he put seven maunds  of salt in his eyes in this way.
“Almighty  God  is  watching  me,”  he  would  say. “The man who sleeps is heedless,”  he added, “and the heedless man is veiled.”
One  day Jonaid  visited him to find him  pulling  up the skin of his eyebrows with tweezers.
“Why are you doing that?”  he asked.

384     al-shebli

“Truth  has  become  manifest,  and  I cannot  endure it,” Shebli answered.  “I am pricking myself that haply He may grant me one glance.”

Shebli had  a grotto  where  he used  to go,  carrying with  him a bundle  of sticks.  Any time  his heart  was invaded  by  inattention  he  would  beat  himself  with those sticks. Once it happened that  he had broken  all the  sticks,  so he beat  his  hands  and  feet against  the wall.

Overpowered  by  mystic  ecstasy,  Shebli  began  to preach,  and  proclaimed  before  the  people  the  secret. Jonaid reproached him.
“We utter  these  words  in grottos,” he said.  “Now you have come and declare them in the market-place.” “I am speaking  and I am  listening,”  Shebli replied. “In both worlds  who is there but I? Nay rather,  these are words proceeding  from God to God, and Shebli is
not there at all.”
“If that  is the case, you have dispensation,” Jonaid said.

One  day  Shebli  was  repeatedly  uttering  the  word
God, God. An earnest young disciple addressed him. “Why do you not say, There is no god but God?”  Shebli sighed.

al-shebli    385

“I am afraid,” he explained,  “that  if I say ‘no god’ my breath may be stopped before I reach ‘but God’ and I shall be utterly desolated.”
These words made such an impression  on the youth that  he trembled  and  expired.  His  friends  came  and haled Shebli to the caliph’s palace. He, being still in the throes of ecstasy,  walked  along  like one drunk.  They accused him of murder,
“Shebli, what do you say?” demanded  the caliph.
“It was a soul wholly consumed  by the flame of the fire  of  love,  in  eager  expectancy  of  confronting the majesty of God,”  Shebli replied. “It was a soul severed from all connections, passed away from all carnal cor- ruption. It was a soul come to the end of its tether that could  endure  no longer,  visited  successively inwardly by the importunate envoys of the Presence  Divine.  A lightning-flash  of the beauty  of the  contemplation of this visitation leaped upon the very core of his soul. His soul bird-like  flew out  of  the cage of the body.  What was Shebli’s offence or crime in this?”
“Send Shebli home immediately,”  ordered the caliph. “His words have produced  such a state in me inward-  ly that there is danger that I may fall from this throne!”

Once Shebli was in Baghdad. He said, “We require a thousand  dirhams,   to  buy  shoes  for  the  poor   and despatch  them on the pilgrimage.”

386     al-shebli

A Christian  jumped  up and said, “I will give them, only on one condition, that you take me with you.”
“Young sir, you are not qualified for the pilgrimage,”
said
“There   is  no  mule  in  your  caravan,”  the  youth replied. “Take me along as your mule.”
The dervishes set out, the Christian  along with them loins girded to the trail.
“How are you faring, young man?”  asked Shebli.
‘I am so happy at the thought of accompanying you that I cannot  sleep,” he replied.
On the road the Christian  took a brush and at every halting  place  he swept  the floor  for the  pilgrims  and plucked   out   the  thorns.   When   the   time  came  for putting on the white robes, he saw what the rest were doing  and  followed  their  example.  At  last  the  party arrived at the Kaaba.
“With  your  girdle  I cannot  let you  enter  the  Holy
House,”  Shebli told the Christian.
“O God,”  the Christian  cried, laying his head on the threshold, “Shebli says he will not allow me into Thy House.”
“Shebli,”  came  a  voice  out  of  heaven,  “We  have brought  him here from Baghdad.  Kindling  the fire of love in his heart,  We have dragged him to Our House with  the chains  of loving  kindness.  Shebli, get out  of the way! You, friend, come in!”

al-shebli     387

The  Christian   entered  the  Holy  House  and  per- formed the visitation. The rest of the party then entered and in due course emerged, but the youth still did not come out.
“Young man, come out!” Shebli called.
“He will not let me out,”  the youth replied. “Every time I make  for the door  of the House  I  find it shut. What will become of me?”

Once  Jonaid  and  Shebli both  fell sick. A  Christian physician visited Shebli.
“What  pains are you feeling?” he asked. “None,” Shebli replied.
“What  do you say?” the doctor repeated.  “I have no pain,”  Shebli told him.
The physician then visited Jonaid.
“What  pains do you have?” he enquired.
Jonaid  described  his symptoms  in detail, enumerat- ing each pain in turn.  The Christian treated  him, and departed. Later the two friends came together.
“Why did you expose all your pains to a Christian?” Shebli asked.
“So that  he might realize,”  Jonaid answered,  “if His friend  is treated  so, what  He will do to His  foe! And you,” he added, “why did you not describe your pains?”
‘I was ashamed,” Shebli replied, “to complain to an enemy of the Friend!”

388     al-shebli

One day as Shebli was going along he encountered two boys quarrelling  over a walnut they had found. He took the walnut  from them.
‘Be patient,   till  I divide  it  between  you!”  he  told them.
When he broke it open, the nut proved to be empty. A voice proclaimed, “Go  on,  divide it, if  you are the Divider!”
“All  that  quarrelling   over  an  empty  nut,”  Shebli commented  shamefaced.  “And all that pretension  to be a divider over nothing!”

The death of Shebli
When  the  hour  of his death  drew  near,  Shebli’s  eyes were  shrouded   in darkness.  He  asked  for  ashes  and sprinkled  them over his head, and was possessed of an indescribable  restlessness.
“Why all this agitation?” his friends asked him.
“My soul is filled with envy and jealousy of Iblis,” he answered.  “Here I sit athirst,  and He gives of His own to another.  Upon thee shall rest My curse till the Day of Doom.  I cannot  bear to see that  attribution of the Divine  curse  to  Iblis.  I  wish  it to  be mine;  for  even though it is a curse, yet is it not His, and is it not of His attribution? What  does that  accursed  one know of its worth? Why did He not vouchsafe to the princes of the

al-shebli     389

Community  to  set  their  feet  on  the  crown   of  the Throne? The jeweller knows the value of the jewel. If a king  sets  a  glass  bead  or  a  crystal  on  his  hand,  it appears  as a jewel; but if a greengrocer  makes a seal- ring of a jewel and puts it on his finger, it appears  as a bead of glass.”
Thereafter  Shebli was composed  for a while.  Then his agitation  returned.
“What  is it?” they asked.
“Two winds are blowing,” he answered.  “One is the wind of loving kindness,  the other the wind of wrath. Upon whomsoever  the wind of loving kindness blows, he  attains   his  goal;  upon  whomsoever   the  wind  of wrath blows, he is imprisoned  in the veil. Upon whom shall that wind alight? If the wind of loving kindness is to light on me, in that  fond hope I can endure  all this hardship  and suffering. If the wind of wrath is to light on  me,  this  my  present  suffering  shall  be  naught  in comparison with what  will then befalI me. Nothing,” he added,  “weighs more heavily on my heart  than the one dirham of oppression  I have been guilty of, though I have given a thousand dirhams  in expiation  thereof. My heart  will not rest. Give me the water  of purifica- tion.”
They  brought   him  water,   but  forgot  to  let  it  run through  his beard till he reminded  them.

390     al-shebli

All that night Shebli recited these verses.

Whatever  house Thou  tak’st for thine No  lamp is needed there to shine. Upon  the day that men shall bring
Their proofs  before the Judge and King, Our  proof  shall be, in that dread place, The longed-for  beauty of Thy face.

A  company  then  gathered  around   him  to  say  the funeral  prayers.  His  end  was  come,  and  he  realized what was passing.
“How   marvellous!”  he  exclaimed.   “A  throng  of dead men are come to pray over one living.”
“Say, There is no god but God,”  they said.
“Since there is no other than He,” he replied, “how  can I utter a negative?”
“There  is no  help.  Say the  words  of  attestation,”
they urged him.
“The King of Love says, I will not accept a bribe,” Shebli retorted.
Then one present raised his voice to prompt him. “Here  is a dead  man come, to awaken  the living!”
Shebli exclaimed.
A  little  while  passed.  Then  they  said,  “How  are you?”
“I have rejoined the Beloved,” he answered. Then he expired.


Bibliography

R. A. Nicholson, The Tadhkirat’l-Awliya of Shaykh  Faridu’d-din ‘Attar. 2 vols. (London, 1905-07). Critical  edition  of text with remarks on the lan- guage and conspectus  of parallel passages in the Resala of Abo ‘l-Qasem al-Qoshairi. Preface on the biography of Attar by Mirza  Mohammad Qazwini.
Sa’id Nafisi, Jostoju dar ahwal u athar-e Farid al-Din
‘Attar-e Nishaburi (Tehran,  1320  [1942]  ). Scholarly examination of the biography and writ- ings of Attar.
H. Ritter.  Das Meer der Seele (Leiden, I955). Contains much valuable  information on the life
and works  of Attar. See also the same scholar’s arti- cles “Philologika X” in Der Islam, XXVI (1942), and in Encyclopaedia  of Islam, (new edition),  I,
752-55.
F. Rouhani, Le Livre divin (Paris, 1961).  This trans- lation of the Elahi-nama  of Attar contains  in the preface a critical study of the life and works  of the poet.
Badi’ al-Zaman Foruzanfar, Sharh-i ahwal o naqd o tahlil-e athar-e Farid al-Din Mohammad-e ‘Attar-e Nishaburi (Tehran, I340 [I962)]). Erudite  study of the life and works  of Attar.

392     bibliography

C. A. Storey, Persian Literature  (London,  I953). A very valuable  bibliography, listing the manuscripts of the text, editions,  translations and studies.

Other  books  helpful to the study of the text and to the persons  mentioned  in it are listed above under the several  entries.  The  relevant  entries  on  Attar  in  the standard histories  of  Persian  literature  should  also be consulted.

'A'oozu Billahi Minash-shaitanir Rajeem bismillaharrahmanarrahim

'A'oozu Billahi Minash-shaitanir Rajeem bismillaharrahmanarrahim

Ayat-ul-Kursî.]—
Allah! There is no deity except He, the Ever Living, the One Who sustains and protects all that exists. Neither slumber, nor sleep overtake Him. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on earth.
Who is he that can intercede with Him except with His Permission?
He knows what happens to them (His creatures) in this world, and what will happen to them in the Hereafter .
And they will never compass anything of His Knowledge except that which He wills. His throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and He feels no fatigue in guarding and preserving them. And He is the Most High, the Most Great.


Allahu laa ilaha illa huwa, Al -Haiy ul-Qaiyum La ta'khudhuhu sinatu wa la nawm lahu ma fis -samawati wa ma fil-'ard Man dhal-ladhi yashfa'u 'indahu illa bi-idhnihi Ya'lamu ma bayna aydihim wa ma khalfahum wa la yuhituna bi shai'im min 'ilmihi illa bima sha'a Wasi'a kursiyuhus-samawati wal ard wa la ya'uduhu hifdhuhuma wa Hu wal 'Aliyul-Adheem

In the name of Allah, The Most Kind, The Most Merciful.


Quran 113:0
In the name of Allah, The Most Kind, The Most Merciful.
Say, “I seek refuge in (Allah) the Lord of the Daybreak.”
“From the evil (deeds) of that (creation) which He (Allah) created.”
“And from the evil (deeds of other people) when night time comes (and I am asleep unable to protect myself).”
“And from the evil (deeds) of those (people) who blow on knots (and call on Satin .Shaitan) to help them to cause harm)."
“And from the evil (deeds) of the jealous person when they become envious (and they try to cause harm).”


Quran 114:0
In the name of Allah, The Most Kind, The Most Merciful.
Say, “I seek refuge in (Allah) the Lord of (all) humans.”
“The king of (all) humans.”
“The Allah of (all) humans.”
“From the evil of the retreating whisperer (Satin.Shaitan) who whispers evil suggestions ,( but disappears when people remember Allah).”
‘Who whispers (evil suggestions) into the hearts of humans.”
“(Promoting evil) from among (both) the jinn and humans.”

Oh our Sir, do not condemn us, we are forgotten or we make a mistake! Oh our Sir, do not impose on us load, like which you imposed on our ancestors! Oh our Sir, do not overload us with what we cannot support! Tolerate us! Forgive us! Have compassion of us! You are our Protector! Grant to us the victory on the incredulous ones!


"Laa ilaaha ill-Allaah wahdahu laa shareeka lah, lahu'l-mulk wa lahu'l-hamd wa huwa 'ala kulli shay'in qadeer (There is no god except Allaah Alone with no partner or associate; His is the Sovereignty and His is the praise, and He is Able to do all things)"
Amin amin amin



O JARDIM - THE GARDEN



O JARDIM

Ao nascer, recebemos um jardim para cuidar, já com muitas sementes, que noscabe apenas regar, cuidando com carinho de cada canteiro.No canteiro do Amor, nascem os mais belos sentimentos, como a solidariedade,o afeto, a ternura e uma linda flor vermelha, chamada de solidariedade.No canteiro da esperança, nascem os sonhos, a perseverança, os desejos daalma, que bem regados, rendem muitos frutos, chamados de "realizações".No canteiro da alegria, flores lindas que sorriem para a vida, sãoconhecidas como "motivação", "boa vontade" e "persistência", sendofundamentais para a continuidade do nosso jardim.Mais ao fundo, um canteiro impressiona pela altura das flores, é o canteiroda fé, regado com orações e atitudes regeneradoras, sobem até o céu, emuitas das flores tocam os pés dos anjos, que tudo ouvem nas nossasplantações.Muitos cuidam do canteiro com trabalho incessante, vigiando os pensamentos,regando constantemente o amor, a alegria e a esperança, sempre com desejosincero de mudar para melhor.Assim, as flores crescem sempre fortes, lindas e mesmo diante dastempestades, próprias da vida, resistem ao tempo e as dificuldades,tornando-se cada vez mais belas.Outros, se perdem em lamentações, gastando o precioso tempo em divagações.Pensam nas plantas que poderiam ter e não tem, naquelas que já tiveram eperderam, nas belas plantas do vizinho, e vão se descuidando do jardim,deixando as ervas daninhas tomarem conta dos canteiros.Assim, plantas destruidoras como o ódio, a inveja, a calúnia, a preguiça, as paixões,
o desrespeito, entre outras pragas, vão tomando o lugar das flores, e vamos nos
tornando pessoas amargas, insensíveis, amarguradas, tristes e doentes.O jardim da vida são os seus pensamentos, o regador seus sentimentos e asemente, a fé.O jardineiro é você, a terra, a própria vida, a água é Allah (swt), fonte de toda avida, que está dentro de você, e em todos os lugares em forma de energia.Seja você, o próprio jardim de Deus, cuide dos seus canteiros, regue todosos dias com amor, esperança e fé.Eu acredito em você.
Cid Pimentel
F.M.J.

adaptado por Suleyman


The GARDEN
While being born, we receive the garden you it take care, already with much seeds, which noscabe it hardly will water, taking care affectionately of each flowerbed. In the flowerbed of the Love, the most beautiful feelings plows born, like the solidarity, the affection, the gentleness and the lovely red flower called of solidarity. In the flowerbed of the hope, there joy plows born the dreams, the perseverance, the wishes daalma, what watered well, bring many results called of " realizations in.No flowerbed of the, lovely flowers that smile will be the life, sãoconhecidas like "motivation", " good will " and "persistence", sendofundamentais will be the continuity of our garden. Live you it the bottom, the flowerbed impresses will be the height of the flowers, he is the canteiroda faith, watered with prayers and regenerative attitudes, they rise up you it the sky, emuitas of the flowers they touch the feet of the angels, who completely hear in the nossasplantações. Many people take care of the flowerbed with incessant work, watching the thoughts, always watering constantly the love, the joy and the hope, with desejosincero of changing will be better. Only, the flowers always grow strongly, lovely and even before dastempestades, own of the life, stand the test of team and the difficulties, becoming live and live beautiful.
Others, they plows lost in lamentations, spending the precious team in wanderings. They think about the plants that they might have and it is not, in that what they had already eperderam, in the beautiful plants of the neighbor, and they go if neglecting the garden, letting the weeds take care of the flowerbeds. Only, destructive plants like the hatred, the envy, the slander, the laziness, the passions, the disrespect, between other nuisances, plow taking the place of the flowers, and we go in making bitter, insensible, embittered, sad and ill persons. The garden of the life they plows his thoughts, watering can his feelings and asemente, the faith. The gardener is you, the land, the life itself, the water is Allah (swt), fountain of every live, which is inside you, and at all the places in the form of energy. Be you, the God's garden itself, take care of his flowerbeds, water todosos days with love, hope and faith.
I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!

by: Dr . Cid Pimentel F.M.J. adapted by Suleyman