Part 13
Al-Ghazali was thoroughly aware of the dangers of Sufism both in its creed by way of becoming pantheistic, and in its antinomian practices. He saw that divorce between religion and morals would be disastrous and must therefore have been shocked by such verses as those of Omar Khayyam:
“Khayyam! why weep you that your life is bad; What boots it thus to mourn? Rather be glad. He that sins not can make no claim to mercy; Mercy was made for sinners—be not sad.”
His teaching regarding sin and repentance was, as we shall see later, altogether more fundamental.
From the earliest times pantheistic Sufism found a home in Khorasan among the Moslems. The old idea of incarnation emerged when the Shiah sect separated itself and paid such high veneration to Ali. The sect of the Khattahiyah worshipped the Imam Jafar Sadik as God. Others believed that the divine spirit had descended upon Abdallah Ibn Amr. In Khorasan the opinion was widely spread that Abu Muslim, the great general who overturned the dynasty of the Ommeyads and set up that of the Abbassides, was an incarnation of the spirit of God. In the same province under Al Mansur, the second Abbasside Caliph, a religious leader named Ostasys professed to be an emanation of the Godhead. He collected thousands of followers, and the movement was not suppressed without much fighting. Under the Caliph Mahdi a self-styled Avatar named Ata arose, who on account of a golden mask which he continually wore was called Mokanna, or “the veiled prophet.” He also had a numerous following, and held the Caliph’s armies in check for several years, till in A. D. 779, being closely invested in his castle, he, with his whole harem and servants, put an end to themselves.
What Al-Ghazali himself thought of these speculations of the Sufis and the danger of this kind of mysticism we learn from his book: “The speculations of the Sufis may be divided into two classes: to the first category belong all the phases about love to God and union with Him, which according to them compensate for all outward works. Many of them allege that they have attained to complete oneness with God; that for them the veil has been lifted; that they have not only seen the Most High with their eyes, but have spoken with Him, and so far as to say ‘The Most High spoke thus and thus.’ They wish to imitate Hallaj, who was crucified for using such expressions, and justify themselves by quoting his saying, ‘I am the Truth.’ They also refer to Abu Yazid Bistami, who is reported to have exclaimed, ‘Praise be to me!’ instead of ‘Praise be to God!’ This kind of speculation is extremely dangerous for the common people, and it is notorious that a number of craftsmen have left their occupation to make similar assertions. Such speeches are highly popular, as they hold out to men the prospect of laying aside active work with the idea of purging the soul through mystical ecstasies and transports. The common people are not slow to claim similar rights for themselves and to catch up wild and whirling expressions. As regards the second class of Sufi speculation, it consists in the use of unintelligible phrases which by their outward apparent meaning and boldness attract attention, but which on closer inspection prove to be devoid of any real sense.”
Not only did Al-Ghazali realize the danger on the side of pantheism, but he was aware that such religious enthusiasm often led to gross hypocrisy. In his _Ihya_ he mentions “that the prophet commanded that whoever did not feel moved to tears at the recitation of the Koran should pretend to weep and to be deeply moved”; for, adds Al-Ghazali sagely, “in these matters one begins by forcing oneself to do what afterwards comes spontaneously.” Moreover, the fact that religious excitement was looked upon as the mark of a fervent mind and devout intensity, vastly increased the number of those who claimed mystic illumination. He divides the ecstatic conditions which the hearing of poetical recitations produces into four classes. The first, which is the lowest, is that of the simple sensuous delight in melody. The second class is that of pleasure in the melody and of understanding the words in their apparent sense. The third class consists of those who apply the meaning of the words to the relations between man and God. To this class belongs the would-be initiate into Sufism. He goes on to say, “He has necessarily a goal marked out for him to aim at, and this goal is the knowledge of God, meeting Him and union with Him by the way of secret contemplation, and the removal of the veil which conceals Him. In order to compass this aim the Sufi has a special path to follow; he must perform various ascetic practices and overcome certain spiritual obstacles in doing so. Now when, during the recitation of poetry, the Sufi hears mention made of blame or praise, of acceptance or refusal, of union with the Beloved or separation from Him, of lament over a departed joy or longing for a look, as often occurs in Arabic poetry, one or the other of these accords with his spiritual state and acts upon him like a spark on tinder, to set his heart aflame. Longing and love overpower him and unfold to him manifold vistas of spiritual experience.
“The fourth and highest class is that of the fully initiated who have passed through the stages above mentioned, and whose minds are closed to everything except God. Such an one is wholly denuded of self, so that he no longer knows his own experiences and practices, and, as though with senses sealed, sinks into the ocean of the contemplation of God. This condition the Sufis characterize as self-annihilation (_Fana_).” (“The Confessions.”)
Elsewhere he compares this highest condition of ecstasy of the human soul to a clear mirror—of course he means the mirror of the ancients made of polished brass or bronze—which reflects the colours of anything towards which it is directed. Again and again he comes back to this metaphor in his books. Sin is like rust on the mirror of the soul. Light is reflected in it, but the rays are no longer clear, until by repentance the rust of guilt and passion are removed.
Al-Ghazali’s mysticism was always accompanied by orthodox insistence on the six articles of faith and the five pillars of practice, through which alone the soul can receive its fundamental impulse towards God.
Yet Al-Ghazali’s mysticism leads him to emphasize always the spiritual side of worship. The mere form is nothing in itself. The author of the Masnavi had mastered Al-Ghazali and absorbed his spirit when he wrote:
“Fools laud and magnify the mosque, While they strive to oppress holy men of heart. But the former is mere form, the latter spirit and truth. The only true mosque is that in the hearts of saints. The mosque that is built in the heart of the saints Is the place of worship of all, for God dwells there.”
What he says on the imitation of God is based almost literally on Al-Ghazali’s book describing God’s attributes.
“God calls Himself ‘Seeing,’ to the end that His eye may every moment scare you from sinning. God calls Himself ‘Hearing,’ to the end that You may close your lips against foul discourse. God calls Himself ‘Knowing,’ to the end that You may be afraid to plot evil. These names are not mere accidental names of God, As a negro may be called _Kafur_ (white); They are names derived from God’s essential attributes, Not mere vain titles of the First Cause.”
Abu Saʾid bin Abu ’l-Khair, also of Khorasan (A. H. 396-440), was one of Al-Ghazali’s teachers in the school of mysticism. When he was asked what a Sufi was he said: “Whatever is in thy head, forget it; whatever is in thy hand, give it away; and whatever happens to thee, disregard it.”
In regard to the rise of Sufic teaching, its origin and character, Dr. C. Snouck Hurgronje remarks: “The lamp which Allah had caused Mohammed to hold up to guide mankind with its light, was raised higher and higher after the Prophet’s death, in order to shed its light over an ever increasing part of humanity. This was not possible, however, without its reservoir being replenished with all the different kinds of oil that had from time immemorial given light to those different nations. The oil of mysticism came from Christian circles, and its Neoplatonic origin was quite unmistakable; Persia and India also contributed to it. There were those who, by asceticism, by different methods of mortifying the flesh, liberated the spirit that it might rise and become united with the origin of all being; to such an extent that with some the profession of faith was reduced to the blasphemous exclamation: ‘I am Allah.’”
[Illustration: Facsimile title page of the last book Ghazali wrote, entitled “Minhaj Al-ʾAbidin.” On the margin this Cairo edition gives another of his celebrated works, “Badayat-al-Hadaya.”]
But he goes on to say that although many went to such extremes and in their pantheistic ideas lost sight of the moral law and the restriction of conduct it was Al-Ghazali who rescued Islam to a large degree from this danger. He recommended moral perfection of the soul by asceticism as the only way through which men could approach nearer to God. “His mysticism wished to avoid the danger of pantheism, to which so many others were led by their contemplations, and which so often engendered disregard of the revealed law, or even of morality.”
It is therefore from the days of Al-Ghazali that ethical mysticism obtained its birthright in the world of Islam together with law and dogma. These now form the sacred trio of religious sciences, and are taught in every great centre of Moslem learning. For dogma other writers are more authoritative. For Moslem law there is the study of the great writers of the four Schools, but in matters of ethics Al-Ghazali still holds his own.
To quote once more from Hurgronje: “The ethical mysticism of Al-Ghazali is generally recognized as orthodox; and the possibility of attaining to a higher spiritual sphere by means of methodic asceticism and contemplation is doubted by few. The following opinion has come to prevail in wide circles: the Law offers the bread of life to all the faithful, the dogmatics are the arsenal from which the weapons must be taken to defend the treasures of religion against unbelief and heresy, but mysticism shows the earthly pilgrim the way to Heaven.”[77]
In one particular, however, this ethical teaching is utterly disappointing. Al-Ghazali’s mysticism is not for the multitude. It is esoteric, for a particular class who are filled with religious pride that they, in this respect, are not as other men. Even the noblest minds in Islam restrict true religious life to an aristocratic minority, and, like the Pharisees of old, consider the ignorance of the multitude an evil that cannot be remedied. The teaching of Al-Ghazali was intended not for the masses but for the initiates.
It is remarkable that while he founded a cloister for Sufis at Tus and taught and governed there himself during the closing years of his life, he left no established order behind him. Professor Macdonald thinks that in his time the movement towards continuous corporations and brotherhoods had not yet begun. But this is a mistake, for in the _Kashf-al-Mahjub_ (A. H. 456) we already find a list of the various schools of Dervishes and their peculiar methods of devotion. Al-Ghazali’s _teaching_, however, is popular among all the Dervish orders of to-day.
A special study has been made of one of Al-Ghazali’s esoteric works on mysticism entitled _Mishkat al-Anwar_, by Canon W. H. T. Gairdner, in which he answers the critics of this work, and shows conclusively that whatever may have been Al-Ghazali’s method he was sincere. We borrow from this interesting and scholarly paper two paragraphs to illustrate the method of Al-Ghazali:
“In expounding the tradition of the Seventy Thousand Veils with which Allah had veiled Himself from the vision of man, Ghazali finds opportunity to graduate various religions and sects according as they are more, or less, thickly veiled from the light; _i. e._, according as they more or less nearly approximate to Absolute Truth (al-Haqq—the Real—Allah). The veils which veil the various religions and sects from the Divine Light are conceived of as twofold in character, light veils and dark veils, and the principle of graduation is according as the followers of these religions and sects are veiled (_a_) by dark veils, (_b_) by dark and light mixed, or (_c_) by light veils only. The recital closes with a short passage which tells us that the Attainers (_al-wasilun_) have had the Sufi doctrine of _kashf_ in its most explicit and striking form.
“(_a_) Those veiled by pure darkness, called here the _mulhida_, are those who deny the existence of Allah and of a Last Day. They have two main divisions, those who have inquired for a cause to account for the world and have made Nature that cause; and those who have made no such inquiry. The former are clearly the Naturists or _dahriya_ who were the very abomination of desolation to Ghazali. It is curious that nothing further is said of their evil conduct, and it is entirely characteristic of mediæval thought that the deepest damnation is thus reserved for false opinion, rather than for evil life. Evil doers form the second division (which, however, is not definitely said to be higher than the first), composed of those who are too greedy and selfish so much as to look for a cause, or in fact to think of anything except their vile selves. These we might style the Egotists; they are ranged in ascending order into (1) seekers of sensual pleasure, (2) seekers of dominion, (3) money-grubbers, (4) lovers of vain-glory. In the first he has the ordinary sensual herd in view, as well as the philosophers of sensualism; their veils are the veils of the bestial attributes, while those of the second are the ferocious ones (sabaʾiya). The denotation of the latter class is quaintly given as Arabs, some Kurds and very numerous Fools. The third and fourth subdivisions do not call for comment.
“Mounting from these regions of unmitigated darkness we come to (_b_), those veiled by light and darkness mixed. Ghazali’s idea of the dark veils in general may be gathered from a comparison of this and the previous section. In this section the dark veils are shown to be the false conceptions of deity, which the human mind is deluded into making by the gross and limited elements in its own constitution, namely (in ascending order) by the Senses, the Phantasy or Imagination and the Discursive Reason. The dark veils of the previous section were the unmitigated egotism and materialism which employed these faculties for self and the world alone, without a thought of deity. The light veils, accordingly, are the true but partial intuitions whereby man rises to the idea of deity, or to a something at least higher than himself. These intuitions are no more than partial, because they fix upon some one aspect or attribute of deity,—majesty, beauty, and so forth,—and believing it to be all in all proceed to deify all majestic, beautiful, etc., things. Thus they half reveal, half conceal, Allah, and so are literally veils of light.”[78]
Does not this remind us of St. Paul’s words: “Now we see through (in) a glass darkly but then face to face, etc.”? Did Al-Ghazali borrow from the Gospel here also?
It has been pointed out by Margoliouth and others that Mohammedan Sufism is largely based on Christian teaching. This is especially true in the case of Abu Talib, Al-Ghazali’s favourite writer on this subject. “Sometimes the matter is taken over bodily; thus the Parable of the Sower is told by the earliest Sufi writer. Abu Talib takes over the dialogue in the Gospel eschatology between the Saviour and those who are taunted with having seen Him hungry and refused Him food; only for the questioner he substitutes Allah, and for ‘the least of these’ his Moslem brother. Not a few of the Beatitudes are taken over sometimes with the name of their author. Commonplaces which are found in Christian homiletic works reappear with little or no alteration in the Sufi sermons. In the Acts of Thomas, the Apostle, when employed by a king to build a palace, spends the money in charity to the poor. Presently the king’s brother dies, and finds that a wonderful palace has been built for the king in Paradise with the Alms which Thomas bestowed in his name. This story reappears in the doctrine of Abu Talib that when a poor man takes charity from the wealthy, he is thereby building him a house in Paradise.”[79]
Not only in Qut-ul-Qulub, the famous book of Abu Talib, but in all Al-Ghazali’s works we have numerous quotations and references to the Gospels apocryphal or genuine, as we shall see later.
Al-Ghazali prescribed forms for morning and evening prayer which do not differ greatly from the prayers recommended in Christian manuals of devotion. His teaching on prayer is an effort to spiritualize the ceremony, and in this he follows the teaching of the older Sufis. Absorption in God during prayer was their ideal. To avoid distraction men were advised to pray towards a blank wall, lest any architectural ornament might distract their attention. Others boasted that they could attain to absorption under any circumstances. “There were saints who when they started their _salat_ told their women-folk that they might chatter as much as they liked and even beat drums; they were too much absorbed in prayer to hear, however loud the noise. When one of them was saying his _salat_ in the Mosque of Basrah a column fell, bringing down with it an erection of four storeys; he continued praying, and when after he had finished the people congratulated him on his escape, he asked, what from? Great names were quoted for the practice of praying hastily, and so shortening the time taken by the devotion as to give Satan no chance of distracting the thoughts.”
Al-Ghazali, however, believed in reverence and emphasized outward and inward preparation for this act of devotion. “Prayer,” says he, “is a nearness to God and a gift which we present to the King of kings even as one who comes from a distant village brings it before the ruler. And your gift is accepted of God and will be returned to you on the great day of judgment, so that you are responsible to present it as beautiful as possible.” He quotes with approval a saying of Mohammed: “True prayer is to make one’s self meek and humble,” and adds that the presence of the heart is the soul of true prayer and that absent-mindedness destroys all its value.
“True prayer,” he continues, “consists of six things: the presence of the heart, understanding, magnifying God, fear, hope, and a sense of shame.” He then treats successively these elements of true prayer, showing in what they consist, how they are occasioned and how they may be secured. We secure the presence of our hearts by a deep sense of the eternal. What he says in regard to God’s greatness may well be compared with such passages as the eighth Psalm, “What is man that Thou art mindful of him?” Our sense of shame is quickened, he says, by remembering our shortcomings in worship. The only way we can secure the presence of the heart in prayer is by drawing our thoughts away from outward diversions and from those within. We should not pray in the public streets, for there our mind is diverted. If we can pray towards a dead wall on which there is nothing to see it will be helpful. But the inward withdrawal of the heart is still more important.
What he says about the true _kibla_ is also worth quoting. “It is the turning away of your outward gaze from everything save the direction of the holy house of God. Do you not then think that the turning aside of your heart from all other things to the consideration of God Most High is required of you? It certainly is. Nothing else is required of you in prayer than this, so that I would say the face of your heart must turn with the face of your body; and even as no one is able to face the house of God save by turning away from every other direction, so the heart does not truly turn towards God save by being separated from everything else than himself.”
“When you stand up to pray,” he says, “remember the day when you must stand before God’s throne and be judged. Be clear of hypocrisy in prayer. Do not follow those who profess to worship the face of God and at the same time seek the praise of men.... Flee from the devil, for he is as a devouring lion. How can any one who is pursued by a lion or an enemy who would devour him or kill him say, ‘I take refuge with God from them in this castle or in this fort,’ and still linger without entering the fort? Surely this will not profit him. The only way to secure protection is to change his place. In like manner whoever follows his lusts, which are the lurking place of Satan and the abomination of the Merciful, the mere saying, ‘I take refuge in God’ will not profit. Whosoever takes his passions for a God he is under the reign of the devil and not in the safe keeping of his Lord.”
He gives a long spiritual interpretation of the _fatihah_ which is beautiful. “At the conclusion of your formal prayer,” he says, “offer your humble petitions and thanksgivings and expect an answer and join in your petition your parents and the rest of true believers. And when you give the final _salaams_ remember the two angels who sit on your shoulders.”
In the giving of alms he says seven things are required: promptness, secrecy, example—(and in this connection he quotes a Tradition ascribed _to the Prophet_ about the left hand not knowing what the right hand doeth)—absence of boasting or pride, the gift must not be spoken of as great, our best is demanded, for God is supremely good and He will only take the best, and we must give our alms to the right persons. Of these he mentions six classes: the pious, the learned, the righteous, the deserving poor, those in need because of sickness or family distress, _and relatives_. With him, charity _ends_ at home.
[Illustration: A Mihrab or prayer-niche made of cedar wood and dating from the Eleventh Century. (Cairo Museum.)]
It is clear, however, from Al-Ghazali’s teaching that only Moslems are intended in his classification of those who may receive the _Zakat_. There is no universal brotherhood in Islam. Jews and Christians are outside the pale, save as they have “the rights of neighbours.”