III. GNOSTICISM
{Cf. Goldziher, "Neuplatonische und gnostische Elemente im Hadit," in
Zeitschrift für Assyriologie, xxii. 317 ff.}
Though little direct evidence is available, the conspicuous place occupied
by the theory of gnosis in early Sufi speculation suggests contact with
Christian Gnosticism, and it is worth noting that the parents of Ma‘ruf
al-Karkhi, whose definition of Sufism as 'the apprehension of divine
realities' was quoted on the first page of this Introduction, are said to
have been Sabians, i.e. Mandæans, dwelling in the Babylonian fenland
between Basra and Wasit. Other Moslem saints had learned 'the mystery of
the Great Name.' It was communicated to Ibrahim ibn Adham by a man whom he
met while travelling in the desert, and as soon as he pronounced it he saw
the prophet Khadir (Elias). The ancient Sufis borrowed from the Manichæans
the term siddiq, which they apply to their own spiritual adepts, and a
later school, returning to the dualism of Mani, held the view that the
diversity of phenomena arises from the admixture of light and darkness.

"The ideal of human action is freedom from the taint of darkness; and the
freedom of light from darkness means the self-consciousness of light as
light." {Shaikh Muhammad Iqbal, The Development of Metaphysics in Persia
(1908), p. 150.}

The following version of the doctrine of the seventy thousand veils as
explained by a modern Rifa‘i dervish shows clear traces of Gnosticism and
is so interesting that I cannot refrain from quoting it here:

"Seventy Thousand Veils separate Allah, the One Reality, from the world of
matter and of sense. And every soul passes before his birth through these
seventy thousand. The inner half of these are veils of light: the outer
half, veils of darkness. For every one of the veils of light passed
through, in this journey towards birth, the soul puts off a divine quality:
and for every one of the dark veils, it puts on an earthly quality. Thus
the child is born weeping, for the soul knows its separation from Allah,
the One Reality. And when the child cries in its sleep, it is because the
soul remembers something of what it has lost. Otherwise, the passage
through the veils has brought with it forgetfulness (nisyan): and for this
reason man is called insan. He is now, as it were, in prison in his body,
separated by these thick curtains from Allah.

"But the whole purpose of Sufism, the Way of the dervish, is to give him an
escape from this prison, an apocalypse of the Seventy Thousand Veils, a
recovery of the original unity with The One, while still in this body. The
body is not to be put off; it is to be refined and made spiritual--a help
and not a hindrance to the spirit. It is like a metal that has to be
refined by fire and transmuted. And the sheikh tells the aspirant that he
has the secret of this transmutation. 'We shall throw you into the fire of
Spiritual Passion,' he says, 'and you will emerge refined.'" {"The Way" of
a Mohammedan Mystic, by W. H. T. Gairdner (Leipzig, 1912), pp. 9 f.}

IV. BUDDHISM

Before the Mohammedan conquest of India in the eleventh century, the
teaching of Buddha exerted considerable influence in Eastern Persia and
Transoxania. We hear of flourishing Buddhist monasteries in Balkh, the
metropolis of ancient Bactria, a city famous for the number of Sufis who
resided in it. Professor Goldziher has called attention to the significant
circumstance that the Sufi ascetic, Ibrahim ibn Adham, appears in Moslem
legend as a prince of Balkh who abandoned his throne and became a wandering
dervish--the story of Buddha over again. The Sufis learned the use of
rosaries from Buddhist monks, and, without entering into details, it may be
safely asserted that the method of Sufism, so far as it is one of ethical
self-culture, ascetic meditation, and intellectual abstraction, owes a good
deal to Buddhism. But the features which the two systems have in common
only accentuate the fundamental difference between them. In spirit they are
poles apart. The Buddhist moralizes himself, the Sufi becomes moral only
through knowing and loving God.

The Sufi conception of the passing-away (fana) of individual self in
Universal Being is certainly, I think, of Indian origin. Its first great
exponent was the Persian mystic, Bayazid of Bistam, who may have received
it from his teacher, Abu ‘Ali of Sind (Scinde). Here are some of his sayings:

"Creatures are subject to changing 'states,' but the gnostic has no
'state,' because his vestiges are effaced and his essence annihilated by
the essence of another, and his traces are lost in another's traces."
"Thirty years the high God was my mirror, now I am my own mirror," i.e.
according to the explanation given by his biographer, "that which I was I
am no more, for 'I' and 'God' is a denial of the unity of God. Since I am
no more, the high God is His own mirror."
"I went from God to God, until they cried from me in me, 'O Thou I!'"

This, it will be observed, is not Buddhism, but the pantheism of the
Vedanta. We cannot identify fana with Nirvana unconditionally. Both terms
imply the passing-away of individuality, but while Nirvana is purely
negative, fana is accompanied by baqa, everlasting life in God. The rapture
of the Sufi who has lost himself in ecstatic contemplation of the divine
beauty is entirely opposed to the passionless intellectual serenity of the
Arahat. I emphasize this contrast because, in my opinion, the influence of
Buddhism on Mohammedan thought has been exaggerated. Much is attributed to
Buddhism that is Indian rather than specifically Buddhistic: the fana
theory of the Sufis is a case in point. Ordinary Moslems held the followers
of Buddha in abhorrence, regarding them as idolaters, and were not likely
to seek personal intercourse with them. On the other hand, for nearly a
thousand years before the Mohammedan conquest, Buddhism had been powerful
in Bactria and Eastern Persia generally: it must, therefore, have affected
the development of Sufism in these regions.

While fana in its pantheistic form is radically different from Nirvana, the
terms coincide so closely in other ways that we cannot regard them as being
altogether unconnected. Fana has an ethical aspect: it involves the
extinction of all passions and desires. The passing-away of evil qualities
and of the evil actions which they produce is said to be brought about by
the continuance of the corresponding good qualities and actions. Compare
this with the definition of Nirvana given by Professor Rhys Davids:

"The extinction of that sinful, grasping condition of mind and heart, which
would otherwise, according to the great mystery of Karma, be the cause of
renewed individual existence. That extinction is to be brought about by,
and runs parallel with, the growth of the opposite condition of mind and
heart; and it is complete when that opposite condition is reached."

Apart from the doctrine of Karma, which is alien to Sufism, these
definitions of fana (viewed as a moral state) and Nirvana, agree almost
word for word. It would be out of place to pursue the comparison further,
but I think we may conclude that the Sufi theory of fana was influenced to
some extent by Buddhism as well as by Perso-Indian pantheism.

The receptivity of Islam to foreign ideas has been recognized by every
unbiased inquirer, and the history of Sufism is only a single instance of
the general rule. But this fact should not lead us to seek in such ideas an
explanation of the whole question which I am now discussing, or to identify
Sufism itself with the extraneous ingredients which it absorbed and
assimilated in the course of its development. Even if Islam had been
miraculously shut off from contact with foreign religions and philosophies,
some form of mysticism would have arisen within it, for the seeds were
already there. Of course, we cannot isolate the internal forces working in
this direction, since they were subject to the law of spiritual
gravitation. The powerful currents of thought discharged through the
Mohammedan world by the great non-lslamic systems above mentioned gave a
stimulus to various tendencies within Islam which affected Sufism either
positively or negatively. As we have seen, its oldest type is an ascetic
revolt against luxury and worldliness; later on, the prevailing rationalism
and scepticism provoked counter-movements towards intuitive knowledge and
emotional faith, and also an orthodox reaction which in its turn drove many
earnest Moslems into the ranks of the mystics.

How, it may be asked, could a religion founded on the simple and austere
monotheism of Mohammed tolerate these new doctrines, much less make terms
with them? It would seem impossible to reconcile the transcendent
personality of Allah with an immanent Reality which is the very life and
soul of the universe. Yet Islam has accepted Sufism. The Sufis, instead of
being excommunicated, are securely established in the Mohammedan church,
and the Legend of the Moslem Saints records the wildest excesses of
Oriental pantheism.

Let us return for a moment to the Koran, that infallible touchstone by
which every Mohammedan theory and practice must be proved. Are any germs of
mysticism to be found there? The Koran, as I have said, starts with the
notion of Allah, the One, Eternal, and Almighty God, far above human
feelings and aspirations--the Lord of His slaves, not the Father of His
children; a judge meting out stern justice to sinners, and extending His
mercy only to those who avert His wrath by repentance, humility, and
unceasing works of devotion; a God of fear rather than of love. This is one
side, and certainly the most prominent side, of Mohammed's teaching; but
while he set an impassable gulf between the world and Allah, his deeper
instinct craved a direct revelation from God to the soul. There are no
contradictions in the logic of feeling. Mohammed, who had in him something
of the mystic, felt God both as far and near, both as transcendent and
immanent. In the latter aspect, Allah is the light of the heavens and the
earth, a Being who works in the world and in the soul of man.

"If My servants ask thee about Me, lo, I am near" (Kor. 2.182); "We (God)
are nearer to him than his own neck-vein" (50.15); "And in the earth are
signs to those of real faith, and in yourselves. What! do ye not see?"
(51.20-21).

It was a long time ere they saw. The Moslem consciousness, haunted by
terrible visions of the wrath to come, slowly and painfully awoke to the
significance of those liberating ideas.
The verses which I have quoted do not stand alone, and however unfavorable
to mysticism the Koran as a whole may be, I cannot assent to the view that
it supplies no basis for a mystical interpretation of Islam. This was
worked out in detail by the Sufis, who dealt with the Koran in very much
the same way as Philo treated the Pentateuch. But they would not have
succeeded so thoroughly in bringing over the mass of religious Moslems to
their side, unless the champions of orthodoxy had set about constructing a
system of scholastic philosophy that reduced the divine nature to a purely
formal, changeless, and absolute unity, a bare will devoid of all
affections and emotions, a tremendous and incalculable power with which no
human creature could have any communion or personal intercourse whatsoever.
That is the God of Mohammedan theology. That was the alternative to Sufism.
Therefore, "all thinking, religious Moslems are mystics," as Professor D.
B. Macdonald, one of our best authorities on the subject, has remarked. And
he adds: "All, too, are pantheists, but some do not know it."

The relation of individual Sufis to Islam varies from more or less entire
conformity to a merely nominal profession of belief in Allah and His
Prophet. While the Koran and the Traditions are generally acknowledged to
be the unalterable standard of religious truth, this acknowledgment does
not include the recognition of any external authority which shall decide
what is orthodox and what is heretical. Creeds and catechisms count for
nothing in the Sufi's estimation. Why should he concern himself with these
when he possesses a doctrine derived immediately from God? As he reads the
Koran with studious meditation and rapt attention, lo, the hidden
meanings--infinite, inexhaustible--of the Holy Word flash upon his inward
eye. This is what the Sufis call istinbat, a sort of intuitive deduction;
the mysterious inflow of divinely revealed knowledge into hearts made pure
by repentance and filled with the thought of God, and the outflow of that
knowledge upon the interpreting tongue. Naturally, the doctrines elicited
by means of istinbat do not agree very well either with Mohammedan theology
or with each other, but the discord is easily explained. Theologians, who
interpret the letter, cannot be expected to reach the same conclusions as
mystics, who interpret the spirit; and if both classes differ amongst
themselves, that is a merciful dispensation of divine wisdom, since
theological controversy serves to extinguish religious error, while the
variety of mystical truth corresponds to the manifold degrees and modes of
mystical experience.

In the chapter on the gnosis I shall enter more fully into the attitude of
the Sufis towards positive religion. It is only a rough-and-ready account
of the matter to say that many of them have been good Moslems, many
scarcely Moslems at all, and a third party, perhaps the largest, Moslems
after a fashion. During the early Middle Ages Islam was a growing organism,
and gradually became transformed under the influence of diverse movements,
of which Sufism itself was one. Mohammedan orthodoxy in its present shape
owes much to Ghazali, and Ghazali was a Sufi. Through his work and example
the Sufistic interpretation of Islam has in no small measure been
harmonized with the rival claims of reason and tradition, but just because
of this he is less valuable than mystics of a purer type to the student who
wishes to know what Sufism essentially is.

Although the numerous definitions of Sufism which occur in Arabic and
Persian books on the subject are historically interesting, their chief
importance lies in showing that Sufism is undefinable. Jalaluddin Rumi in
his Masnavi tells a story about an elephant which some Hindoos were
exhibiting in a dark room. Many people gathered to see it, but, as the
place was too dark to permit them to see the elephant, they all felt it
with their hands, to gain an idea of what it was like. One felt its trunk,
and said that the animal resembled a water-pipe; another felt its ear, and
said it must be a large fan; another its leg, and thought it must be a
pillar; another felt its back, and declared that the beast must be like an
immense throne. So it is with those who define Sufism: they can only
attempt to express what they themselves have felt, and there is no
conceivable formula that will comprise every shade of personal and intimate
religious feeling. Since, however, these definitions illustrate with
convenient brevity certain aspects and characteristics of Sufism, a few
specimens may be given.

"Sufism is this: that actions should be passing over the Sufi (i.e. being
done upon him) which are known to God only, and that he should always be
with God in a way that is known to God only."
"Sufism is wholly self-discipline."
"Sufism is, to possess nothing and to be possessed by nothing."
"Sufism is not a system composed of rules or sciences but a moral
disposition; i.e. if it were a rule, it could be made one's own by
strenuous exertion, and if it were a science, it could be acquired by
instruction; but on the contrary it is a disposition, according to the
saying, 'Form yourselves on the moral nature of God'; and the moral nature
of God cannot be attained either by means of rules or by means of sciences."
"Sufism is freedom and generosity and absence of self-constraint."
"It is this: that God should make thee die to thyself and should make thee
live in Him."
"To behold the imperfection of the phenomenal world, nay, to close the eye
to everything imperfect in contemplation of Him who is remote from all
imperfection--that is Sufism."
"Sufism is control of the faculties and observance of the breaths."
"It is Sufism to put away what thou hast in thy head, to give what thou
hast in thy hand, and not to recoil from whatsoever befalls thee."

The reader will perceive that Sufism is a word uniting many divergent
meanings, and that in sketching its main features one is obliged to make a
sort of composite portrait, which does not represent any particular type
exclusively. The Sufis are not a sect, they have no dogmatic system, the
tariqas or paths by which they seek God "are in number as the souls of men"
and vary infinitely, though a family likeness may be traced in them all.
Descriptions of such a Protean phenomenon must differ widely from one
another, and the impression produced in each case will depend on the choice
of materials and the prominence given to this or that aspect of the
many-sided whole. Now, the essence of Sufism is best displayed in its
extreme type, which is pantheistic and speculative rather than ascetic or
devotional. This type, therefore, I have purposely placed in the
foreground. The advantage of limiting the field is obvious enough, but
entails some loss of proportion. In order to form a fair judgment of
Mohammedan mysticism, the following chapters should be supplemented by a
companion picture drawn especially from those moderate types which, for
want of space, I have unduly neglected.

from:
THE MYSTICS OF ISLAM
by Reynold A. Nicholson
Routledge, Kegan Paul, London