naqshbandi sufi mystism part1 January 5, 2012 at 9:49pm Ritual and Charisma in Naqshbandi Sufi Mysticism by Ken Lizzio, Ph.D. Over the past twenty-five years or so, the post-everything (post-modernism, structuralism,colonialism, positivism), the attempt to portray “how the natives think” (or thought), or even what they are doing when they do what they do, has come in for a good deal of moral, political, and philosophical attack. The mere claim “to know better,” which it would seem any anthropologist would have at least implicitly to make, seems at least faintly illegitimate. To say something about the forms of life of Hawaiians (or anybody else) that Hawaiians do not themselves say opens one to the charge that one is writing out other people’s consciousness for them, scripting their souls. -Clifford Geertz As in all intellectual debates, both sides tend to be correct in what they affirm and wrong in what they deny. -John Stuart Mill Abstract This article is an ethnographic study of an Islamic mystical (Sufi) order based in the tribal area of Pakistan. Fieldwork was conducted in 1996-1997 as a participantobserver of the order and at other sites in and around Pakistan. By using broader methods and theory more appropriate to the analysis of mysticism, the article aims to challenge previous ethnographic studies of the Sufi orders that attributed their existence largely to social, political, and economic factors. By more clearly defining both the nature of saintly charisma and the mystical ritual process, it argues that the raison d’être of the orders is the cultivation of deeper states of consciousness. It concludes by calling for a new theoretical framework, a “transcendental anthropology” more appropriate to elucidating mystical states and practices. In the Fall of 1991, while working in Pakistan, I met Pir Saifur Rahman and his disciples at their hospice in the wooly Khyber Tribal Agency of Pakistan.1 Saifur Rahman is an Islamic mystic of the Mujaddidi branch of the Naqshbandi order of Sufism. Although I had done academic work on Sufism, I had never actually met a Sufi or visited a Sufi hospice, but I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I would find. I was about to see most of my preconceptions dissolve before my eyes. 1 The term pir, which literally means “old man” in Persian, is an honorific given to Sufi masters. Many other terms are employed to denote spiritual mastery, the most common being shaikh (chief) and murshid (master). When I arrived that afternoon at the hospice, I was told that the Pir was resting and would not be out until sunset prayer. In the intervening time, I conversed with several of his disciples under a verandah used for receiving guests. Among the Pir’s visitors that day were a businessman from Karachi, two local merchants, two Afghan mujahiddin fighters in the war against the Soviet-backed government in Kabul, and some college students. In short, my interlocutors were a cross section of modern Pakistani-Afghan society. In the course of an otherwise intelligent conversation about Sufism, a few would suddenly ejaculate, “Ya‘llah!” (Oh, God!). Another’s torso would suddenly jerk and twist as if a shiver had run up his spine. Another peculiar thing I noticed was a pronounced beating of their hearts beneath their shirts. Their pupils were dilated as if in trance, yet they were fully alert and articulate. Apart from these strange and bewildering phenomena, my interlocutors were, as far as I could discern, entirely normal, rational, and sane. Around five o’clock, the Pir entered the courtyard clad in a shimmering turquoise cloak and an immaculate white turban. I expected the disciples to gather for prayer quietly and without fanfare, like monks. Instead, some of the men with whom I had conversed moments before suddenly began weeping, screaming, and shaking uncontrollably. One disciple shook the Pir’s hand and recoiled screaming as if he had touched something hot. Another man fell to the ground at the sight of the shaikh, his body writhing violently in the dust. Unmoved by these histrionics, the Pir strolled imperiously about the courtyard, greeting everyone, including myself, warmly and with perfect equanimity. I was instructed to sit under the verandah until the prayer session ended. When it was finished, I was taken into the hospice library where I was introduced to another Sufi, Pir Habibur Rahman. Habib’s sobriquet was pir-i piran, signifying he was a master of other Sufi masters. He had flashing green eyes and a mischievous smile. I explained to him that I had a Master’s degree in Sufism, considered myself something of an expert on the subject, and had always wanted to visit a Sufi hospice. He seemed genuinely impressed by my assertions. We then embarked on wide-ranging discussion of Sufi literature. At one point, I was quoting a verse from the Turkish mystic poet Jalaladin Rumi’s (d.1273) Divan-i Shams-i Tabriz when one of the disciples, a university student, leaned over my shoulder to interject something. Habib looked over my right shoulder at him, and the young man was cut short in mid-sentence. He began to shake uncontrollably as if he were having a grand mal seizure. He fell backward on the floor where his paroxysms continued undiminished. Shocked, I turned around and looked askance at Habib. But his smiling countenance had turned sour. He scoffed in Persian, “Sufism! What do you know about Sufism? All you know are books!” Gesturing with his hand toward the disciple now lying in peaceful afterglow on the floor, he added triumphantly, “This is Sufism!” I had to admit he was right. In terms of living Sufi practice, I had absolutely no knowledge or experience whatever. Habib’s assertion carried all the more weight given his impressive knowledge of the texts and his own Naqshbandi historical antecedents. While a (hermeneutic) reading of Sufi texts would suggest these Sufis were encountering the mysterium tremendum that marks the spiritual encounter, I was nonetheless shocked by their dramatic, violent physical reactions, especially in the presence of the pirs. What accounted for the violent nature of this form of Sufi mystical experience and for some of the bizarre somatic phenomena attendant to it such as the beating heart? And what role did the Pir play in precipitating these energetic phenomena, and by what means? This article is an ethnographic investigation into a contemporary Naqshbandi Sufi khanaqah or Islamic mystical community.2 Research was conducted under a Fulbright grant in 1996-1997. It is anemic account based on participation in the order as a disciple of Saifur Rahman at his khanaqah in the Khyber. Fieldwork was supplemented with archival research at the khanaqah and several public libraries, and interviews with local government officials, tribal elders, and religious figures. As an ethnographic enterprise, this study was undertaken to correct a tendency among ethnographers to focus almost exclusively on the socio-political aspects of the Sufi orders while neglecting—even dismissing—that aspect of Sufism that is its raison d’être, the cultivation of spiritual life, a central aspect of which is achieving altered states of consciousness. As a corrective to this reductionism, this study uses broader theory and methods to investigate mystical experience. Methodologically, it combines the strengths of both ethnographic investigation and historical/textual analysis. Recent theories in transpersonal psychology more appropriate to elucidating altered or mystical states of consciousness are used to analyze some of the findings. The argument set forth in this work is necessarily partial. The difficulty of gathering data, the elusive nature of states of consciousness, and the long-term nature of spiritual development preclude any sweeping conclusions. Rather, this study demonstrates how the use of broader methods and theory to investigate mystical experience can avert the usual ethnocentric biases without sacrificing a necessary critical component. Hopefully, it will provoke some disciplinary reflection in the anthropology of religion and give it the new theoretical direction it needs. Representing Sufism Early ethnographic studies of the Sufi order were guided by structuralist/functionalist theory, which explained the workings of the orders largely in social, political, or economic terms. Evennative anthropological studies were informed by these theories probably because their authors 2 Given the great varieties of religious experience, this study distinguishes “mystical” or “spiritual” religion from other types of religious engagement. As used in this study, the terms “mystical” and “spiritual” refer to those traditions that, by means of a regime of mental exercises and moral purification, seek to transcend normal egoic consciousness. According to practitioners, the process leads progressively through more advanced or deeper states of consciousness, culminating in a state of radical non-duality. were themselves Western educated.3 Of course, methodological reasons also account for some of the shortcomings. The majority of ethnographic studies were conducted by Western (i.e., non-Muslim) anthropologists who would have been prohibited from attending Sufi ceremonies and other ritual activities. Thus, theories that emphasized ancillary and external aspects of the orders tended to be very much suited to the methods of investigation. While anthropological hermeneutics attempted to correct the perceived limitations of structuralism/functionalism, it too suffered from an untested assumption: that mystical experience is socially constructed and therefore not “really real,” to quote anthropologist Clifford Geertz (Geertz 1973: 78-125).4 Other ethnographies purporting to focus on Sufi spiritual life have paid too much attention to the role played by symbolic and linguistic structures in informing the Sufi worldview (Trix 1993). In point of fact, there has been a patent unwillingness to fairly examine Sufi truth claims of spiritual transformation. This bias has engendered a misunderstanding of the nature and function of Sufi spiritual power (baraka) and its application in Sufi rituals. By extension, the somatic and psychological experiences of the disciples have been similarly misinterpreted, often viewed as “irrational” behavior of the poor and uneducated.5 Anthropologists who studied Sufi spiritual power (baraka) have generally followed Weber’s analysis of charisma. Weber defined charisma as the power of holy men over their followers. According to Weber it is, [A] certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he is set apart from ordinary men and treated as endowed with supernatural, super-human, or at least specifically exceptional power orqualities...regarded as of divine origin or as exemplary, and on the basis of them the individual is treated as a leader (Weber 1968: 48-49). Despite this empathetic definition, Weber was uninterested in the precise nature of the holy man’s exceptional power. A sociologist, he was more intrigued by the social consequences of the holy manfollower relationship that grew out of charisma. For this reason, Weber and a generation of anthro- 3 The various works of Akbar Ahmed, for example, employ structuralist/functiontionalist theory to explain the success of the order’s and their leaders. See the reference section for citations of his works. 4 Since the 1970s, the concept of the symbolic basis of experience has been further elaborated. Some anthropologists now go so far as to imply that, apart from the symbol itself, virtually nothing real exists. For an example of this kind of post-modernist argument, see Edward M. Bruner and Victor Turner (1986). 5 About Sufism in the tribal areas of Afghanistan, Richard Tapper said that it is the poor and ignorant who pursue ecstatic practices. For this reason, “men with secular power or social claims to religious piety and learning take an ambivalent attitude to Sufi activities.” To the contrary, many Sufis, including Saifur Rahman, are ‘ulama and widely recognized as such. Tapper’s argument fails to account for the fact that many Sufis pursuing “ecstatic practices” are among the educated elite, not to mention the intellectual sophistication of Sufi thought and practice. (Tapper 1984:244-265). pologists who succeeded him tended to view religious charismatics, not as spiritual educators, but as social revolutionaries: [C]harismatic authority is specifically irrational in the sense of being foreign to all rules....Within the sphere of its claims, charismatic authority repudiates the past, and is in this sense a specifically revolutionary force (Weber 1968: 52). Subsequent anthropologists who studied Sufism, such as Gellner, Gilsenan, Cruise O’Brien, and Ahmed maintained the meaning of charisma was to be found in the structure of social relations. All products of the British school of structuralism/functionalism, they stressed the social context shaping belief in the shaikh’s charismatic power. In discussing Sufi shaikhs of Pakistan’s Swat valley, for example, Ahmed wrote: Charisma remains largely a function of success; its qualities are both inherent in the person and in the social situation. The charismatic leader is convinced of his ‘mission’ or ‘destiny’ but he must convince those around him of his capacity for leadership (Ahmed 1976: 14). Because Ahmed viewed the shaikh’s charisma chiefly as a function of the social situation, when he attempted to explain the nature of the shaikh’s “qualities,” he runs into difficulty. “Charisma,” he says, “creates following and following creates charisma.” (Ahmed 1976: 115) At no point does he attempt to explain how one acquires charisma or a following in the first place. In discussing Sufi Miangul Abdul Khaliq’s (d.1892) success in establishing Islamic rule in Swat, he wrote: Funds and followers go hand in hand with a charismatic leader and are a vital index to his fortunes. There is a circular and cumulative causation between funds, followers, and charisma. The relationship with his followers was based on the same principles of redistributive economies that the Akhund [of Swat] had established (Ahmed 1976: 113). To extricate himself from his predicament, he resorted to an economic interpretation: in the final analysis, it is really money that lies behind charisma. While continuing to circumvent the central question of charisma, Ahmed merely adds another link in the chain of circular logic, for it begs the question of how money starts flowing to the top of the redistributive system in the first place. Donal Cruise O’Brien believed the source of charisma lay in a reputation (read: apocryphal) for miracle-working. In unequivocally Weberian terms, Cruise O’Brien believes followers are moved to recognize miraculous powers in a shaikh when in the throes of a social crisis (Cruise O’Brien 1988). In his view, miracles can be as trivial as literacy among an illiterate population. Such, we are to believe, is the ignorance and gullibility of desperate believers driven to desperate measures. A similar symbolic/structuralist interpretation was advanced by Geertz (Geertz 1968) and Gilsenan(Gilsenan 1982). Saintly charisma, they believed, inheres in the complex of myths, legends,and anecdotes about the shaikh. Mythical tales invariably concern feats of extraordinary power that set the shaikh apart from mere mortals. In Geertz’s words, they constitute a “discourse of legitimation” that follows an established processual narrative: 1) initiation through an ordeal; 2) achievement of and access to esoteric knowledge; and 3) triumph over temporal authority. In the same sort of circular logic employed by Ahmed, Geertz says stories become persuasive by virtue of the shaikh’s socially powerful position. Geertz’s symbolic approach to the analysis of Sufi authority extends to the nature of baraka itself. It is nothing more than a concept, a “cultural gloss” on life: Literally, “baraka” means blessing, in the sense of divine favor. But spreading out from that nuclear meaning…,it encloses a whole range of linked ideas, material prosperity, physical well-being, bodily satisfaction, completion, luck, plenitude, and, the aspect most stressed by western writers anxious to force it into a pigeonhole with mana, magical power. In broadest terms, “baraka” is not… a paraphysical force, a kind of spiritual electricity…it too is a “doctrine” (Geertz 1968: 44). Geertz seems guilty here of ‘scripting Sufi souls.’ Indeed, as the foregoing indicates, anthropological analysis of Sufi charisma was based on an a priori rejection that baraka had any reality outside social power relations. There was thus no consideration of the central importance of the shaikh’s charisma to the process of spiritual transformation, or of the disciples’ profound somatic reactions to it, and an adequate theory of this process is still lacking in the social sciences.6 On the whole, there has been a tendency to use theoretical frameworks in ways that confirm—not challenge— epistemological assumptions. Reality so defined becomes, ethnocentrically, our own Western version of it. The competing claims of Sufi mystics, many of whom produced some of the world’s most profound philosophical and literary works, are pushed aside by anthropologists as irrelevant or delusional.7 The anthropology of Sufism summarily dismisses the very thing it is asked to explain. This study of the Naqshbandi/Mujaddi order corrects some of the distortions of previous anthropological studies of Sufism occasioned by inadequate theory, ethnocentric biases, or insufficient data. It shows the raison d’être of the orders to be fundamentally transcendental in nature and only secondarily and by extension social, economic, and political. Key components of Sufi spirituality are the mysterious nature of the shaikh’s charisma, and a ritual process that is dynamic and open-ended. The paper contends that neither of these can be fully explained by 6 Michael Washburn has undertaken the first attempt at a psychoanalytic explanation in The Ego and the Dynamic Ground: A Transpersonal Theory of Human Development (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1988). 7 See for example the discussion of Emerson’s theory of the oversoul in James W. Fernandez (1986). reference to known or mundane processes, but can only be understood within the context of an expanded view of human nature and human development that Sufism offers. The Naqshbandi Tariqa 8 The Naqshbandi is one of the largest and most widespread Sufi orders in the Islamic world. Like other Sufis, they trace their origin to the Prophet Muhammad, the mystic exemplar par excellence. He is at once the messenger of God who conveyed both exoteric (normative) and esoteric (mystical) practices, the archetype of the ideal man (insan al-kamal) whom Sufis seek to imitate in all respects, and the channel for divine grace (baraka).9 Sufis maintain that this grace is passed down through the Prophet to various generations of spiritual preceptors in an unbroken chain or silsila. This grace, first transferred from shaikh to disciple during the ritual of spiritual initiation (bay‘a), is said to give the disciple access to a transcendent sphere. Sufis maintain detailed biographies of the teachers in their silsila who exemplified the Prophetic ideal and serve as repositories, living and deceased, of baraka. The accounts of their lives also contain didactic tales and instructive sayings to be applied in everyday life. In these ways, Naqshbandi Sufism constitutes a cumulative tradition, orally, literally, and experientially. The founder of the Mujaddidi branch of Naqshbandis is Sayyid Ahmad Sirhindi (d.1642). A scholar and mystic, Sirhindi is famous for having rescued Indian Islam from absorption into Hinduism by undertaking a far-reaching intellectual and spiritual revival movement.10 For his achievement, Sirhindi earned the title of “Mujaddid ‘Alf al-Thani” or “Renewer of the Second Millennium.” The concept of the “renewer” comes from a saying of the Prophet that Islam would periodically be revitalized by an outstanding religious leader. Appearing at the end of a cycle of spiritual decline that lasted nearly a thousand years, Sirhindi was a renewer not merely of the century but of the millennium. For this reason, even though Muhammad was the last Prophet in Islam, in the eyes of the Mujaddidis at least, Sirhindi assumes near prophetic stature.11 Sirhindi’s practice of dispatching khalifas back to their native regions to carry on his missionary work led to the implantation of the Naqshbandi/Mujaddidi teaching in Afghanistan. Fourteen of 8 For a brief history of the Naqshbandi order, see Hamid Algar (1976). See also Hamid Algar (1975). 9 Naqshbandis have two chains of transmission. A minor one goes back through the Prophet’s grandson ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib (d. 661), and is the one used by most Sufi orders. The major line runs through Abu Bakr (d. 634), the first khalifa in Islam. The two chains are said to reflect the twin aspects of Naqshbandi practice: the ‘Alid chain represents the esoteric spiritual practices, while the Bakri link signifies strict adherence to the shari‘a and the exemplary behavior of the Prophet. The Bakri chain thus marks one of the features that distinguish Naqshbandis from the other orders: a thoroughgoing adherence to Islamic law. 10 The single best study of Sirhindi’s life and work is by Yohanan Friedmann (1971). 11 Friedmann observes that with the advent of Sirhindi, “the perfections regained their splendor to such an extent that the millennial period is barely distinguishable from the prophetic one. The religious situation has been changed for the better, and the Day of Judgment has been postponed again.” Friedmann (1989). the twenty khalifas he designated were from Afghanistan and Central Asia.12 Sirhindi’s third son and successor, Ghulam Muhammad Ma’sum (d.1668), greatly accelerated its diffusion by designating over seven thousand khalifas. Many of these khalifas were from Afghanistan and, after receiving the khalifate (permission to teach), they returned home to conduct missionary work.13 Once implanted in Kabul, the Mujaddidi branch allied itself with the monarchy. In time it supplanted rival Naqshbandi orders, becoming the most influential order in Afghanistan. Spiritual Theosophy of the Naqshbandi/Mujaddidis Sirhindi had refined Naqshbandi teachings by elaborating a more precise conceptual road map of mystical states as well as more precise methods for attaining them. According to his cosmology (Fig. 1), the world is created by God’s eternal and uncreated formless essence (‘ayn al-dhat).14 Sirhindi maintained that although God created the world, there is no relationship between creation and His formless essence. Formless essence gives rise to four levels of manifestation via a transitionalrealm called the “quality of wholeness” (sha’n al-jami). It acts as a bridge between the uncreated and created realms, thereby protecting God’s unique nature. The created realms comprise a hierarchy of levels descending from subtle qualities (latifa) toward gross material existence (kathif). The first level of manifestation is Oneness (ahadiyya) or Essence (dhat). The second level, Unity (wahdat), contains two stages: the “unity of essence” represents the oneness of the divine self because its attributes are still undifferentiated at this stage of unfolding. It is here, according to Sirhindi, where the mystic realizes stable, unitive consciousness (baqa’). At the lower level of wahdat is the “unity of being,” which contains the principles or seeds (usul) of the divine attributes (sifat). In the third level of manifestation, Uniqueness (wahidiyya), the attributes are articulated; eight divine attributes (sifat-i dhat-i haqiqi) qualify transcendent being through affirmation, (i.e., life, power, and knowledge). Eight attributes of negation (sifat-i salbi) deny imperfection in God while at the same time affirming His unique nature (e.g., He has no equal, no beginning or end); the positive attributes (sifat-i fi’liyya) describe Him in terms similar to the eight attributes: merciful, lifegiver, creator, and so forth. The fourth level of manifestation represents man and the rest of the created world together called the Circle of Contingent Existence” (da’ira-i imkan). On the upper level of the circle lies the 12 Three of his leading Afghan shaikhs were Maulana Ahmad (d.1617), Shaikh Yusuf (d.1624-25), and Shaikh Hassan, all of whom had originally come from Bark south of Kabul, returning there as Sirhindi’s khalifas in the early seventeenth century. Shaikh Hassan was particularly active in eradicating religious innovation in the Kabul-Qandahar region. Other khalifas went to Balkh, Kabul, Badakhshan, Kohistan, Laghman, Ghorband, and Logar. Olesen (1995: 48) 13 For a detailed discussion of Sirhindi’s khalifas, see Sayyid Athar Abbas Rizvi (1978) 14 For the elaboration of Naqshbandi/Mujaddidi cosmology, I am indebted to Ahmad Javaid, researcher at the “world of divine command” (‘alam al-amr).15 Insofar as the ‘alam al-amr is linked to the higher levels of manifestation, it represents the macrocosm. Its direction is one of ascent and God’s unity of essence is the goal or end of the journey. On the lower level of the circle is the “world of creation” (‘alam al-khalq), the gross physical world comprising the four elements and man’s nafs or lower nature. The‘alam al-khalq represents the microcosm, and its movement is one of descent. The world of divine command represents the spiritual domain; the world of creation represents material existence, including mental life. These two worlds are joined by a transitional realm called “the world of ideas” (‘alam al-mithal). Here abstract forms precede their manifestation in the gross material world. These abstract ideas are identical to the Platonic archetypes. They represent a creative, imaginal—not imaginary—realm that gives form to the material world. As a deeper realm of consciousness, ‘alam al-mithal is also the realm of Sufi visions, dreams, and spiritual contact with teachers, which play such important functions in spiritual life, providing guidance, spiritual commissions and initiations, and directing disciples to their chosen shaikh. In his description of the nature of visions Ibn al-‘Arabi points to the clear difference between the simply imaginary and the imaginal: They [dream-visions] are a truth and a revelation. A person does not have to be asleep to see them; they may occur during sleep or they may occur at other times. In whichever state they occur, they are a dreamvision in imagination through sense perception, but not in the sensory realm. That which is seen imaginally may lie on the inside, within the faculty, or it may come from the outside through the imaginalization of a spiritual being or through the self-disclosure well-know to the Tribe [Sufis]—but it is a true imagination (khayal haqiqi). (Chittick 1989: 262). 15 The worlds of creation and command are based on Qur’anic phraseology such as, “The spirit is of the command of my Lord” [17:85]. Figure 1 The Naqshbandi Cosmology The ‘alam al-mithal is an intermediate world where the two worlds of divine command and divine creation, of ascent and descent, macrocosm and microcosm, coincide. Humankind is poised at the juncture of these two worlds because it comprises all three dimensions of existence: body, mind and spirit. The relationship may be depicted as such: Man Creator Created ‘alam al-amr ruh ‘aql jism ‘alam al-khalq Each ontological domain has its own modes of perception and interaction between the two worlds. The body, rooted in time and subject to processes of growth and decay, employs the five senses to mediate the material world. Because the mind functions to interpret or attach meaning to what the bodily senses convey, it too lies in the temporal domain. The mind has its own five “senses” analogous to the body: memory, imagination, thinking, hallucination, and desire. Insofar as body and mind are subject to temporality, alone they cannot perceive the transcendental domains. However, they do employ symbols to represent the transcendent. Like the body and mind, the soul has its own inner senses (hawas batini). Najm al-Din Razi (d.1256) warned not to conflate the functioning of these inner senses with their bodily analogues: In the same way that none of the five outer senses can interfere with the functioning of another, hearing being unable to perceive the visible...so too none of the five inner senses can interfere with the functioning of another. The intelligence cannot perceive that which is visible to the heart.... Thus when those who survey the rationally comprehensible with the gaze of the intelligence (‘aql) wished to survey the world of the heart, the mystery, the spirit, and the arcane, again using their fettered intelligence in ignorance of that which the heart beholds and the other degrees of perception, inevitably their intelligence fell into the trap of philosophy and heresy (Razi 1982: 138-139).16 16 Najm al-Din Razi was an Iranian disciple of the Kubrawi order. He fled Iran on the eve of the Mongol invasion and settled in Anatolia where he wrote his masterpiece on the philosophy and spiritual morphology of Sufism. Naqshbandis say that the individual who remains in the visible senses and does not partake of the invisible ones is “one of the Mu’tazila,” that is, an arch-rationalist.17 These inner senses have a somatic analogue in a network of subtle centers in the human torso called lata’if (sing. latifa), which collectively form the morphological basis for Naqshbandi spiritual transformation.18 The lata’if have been described as subtle centers, sheaths, fields, or bodies. To describe them as subtle centers is misleading, however, for the lata’if have no fixed location and could be anywhere in the body. Logically, if they were fixed, say Naqshbandis, they would be bound by the temporal world. The one exception to this may be the heart, which is the one lata’if linked to a particular organ of the body. Henri Corbin notes that there is a vital connection between the spiritual heart and the physical one, though the modality is essentially unknown (Corbin 1969: 221). The heart is also unique in being the only lata’if not associated with an element. While dense matter is subject to the laws of time and space, the lata’if are subject only to laws of space. The lata’if are thus trans-temporal. As Warren Fusfeld observes, the lata’if are “local manifestations of identically named parts of a higher realm of the cosmological structure, which is above the realm of created things” (Fusfeld 1981: 91). In their local or bodily manifestation, the lata’if facilitate the disciple’s reception of grace by providing, as Arthur Buehler notes, a morphology for the spirit’s descent and attachment to the human frame.19 Naqshbandis maintain that the lata’if constitute the morphological basis for Sufism found in some form in all Sufi orders and without which cannot be Sufism. The first five lata’if (see Figure 2) are located within the world of divine command, the last two are in the world of creation, signifying spirit’s complete descent into the manifest world. The first latifa is the heart (qalb) located two inches below the left nipple; its color is yellow, and its prophet is Adam, the first man. The second, spirit (ruh), is located two fingers below the right breast opposite the heart; its color is red, and its prophets are Abraham and Noah. On the left side of the breast above the heart lies the mystery (sirr); its color is white, and its prophet is Moses. On the right side opposite the sirr is the arcane (khafi); its color is white, and its prophet is Jesus. The vertical passage 17 The Mu’tazila was a school of Islamic theology that flourished in Iraq during the ninth century. The Mu’tazila stressed the use of human free will, arguing that justice is a necessary feature of any definition of God and that, since God must be just, human beings must be free to choose between good and evil. The principle of Gods justice led them to reject the doctrine of predestination and affirm human free will and an individuals power and reason over ones actions. 18 The term latifa derives from the Arabic word latif, meaning “sensitive or subtle.” First mentioned by contemporaries of the Iraqi mystic, Ahmad ibn al-Junaid (d. 910), they were more systematically developed by the Central Asian Kubrawi Sufis, especially, Razi, who formulated the first five. Another Naqshbandi, ‘Ala Uddawla Simnani (d.1336) added the last two. Sirhindi articulated this model in greater detail and linked it more closely to practice. For a discussion of the historical development of the lata’if, see (Buehler 1998) 19 Compare the similarity of Sufi morphology with the subtle centers found in the Hindu chakra system. There are seven chakras arranged along the spinal line. The last chakra, the sahasrara also occurs at the crown of the head. Naqshbandis believe the lata’if are directly analogous to these Hindu chakras. between the four lata’if corresponds physically to the sternum and is called the higher arcane (akhfa’); its color is green, and its Prophet is Muhammad. Muhammad thus represents the apex of the World of Divine Command, the supreme center. The first four lata’if are linked to God’s differentiated attributes in wahidiyya from which they receive their baraka. The fifth, akhfa’, originates in wahdat (unity). The next latifa is the soul (nafs) located in the middle of the forehead between the eyes. The origin of the nafs is in the last latifa, qalab. The qalab corresponds to the physical body and is composed of the four basic elements: water, air, earth and fire. Within qalab are four additional lata’if, which have their origin in the four major lata’if. Water derives from ruh, fire from sirr, air from khafi and earth from akhfa’. Each successive lata’if bothincorporates and transcends the previous one. Thus, the first four centers are enfolded and completed in the fifth or akhfa’. Each latifa is associated with a particular color and prophet who is said to have specialized in that particular latifa.20 The dominant color of each can be perceived when the eyes are closed. When two centers are activated at the same time, a mixture of their respective colors is perceived. Not all disciples experience these colors, and it is thought to be an experience in a realm inferior to the spiritual called the “psychic.” Each latifa has a particular set of moral injunctions and contemplative practices required for its mastery, to “brighten” it. Qalb requires the disciple to cultivate humility, perform long prayers, and prayers of repentance (istighfar). The stage of ruh enjoins the disciple not to be distracted or enticed by the manifest world (tashbih) and to fast. At this stage, the disciple may experience visions (mushahadat). In the domain of sirr, the disciple follows the law (shari‘a) and is morally steadfast (mustaqmi‘) within. In khafi one must be Godfearing and avoid things which are permissible for other Muslims. The disciple should also recite the divine negation and reject all doubts (mushtabahat). One feels the love of God at this stage. In akhfa’ one follows not merely the outward sunna but an inner sunna as well and regularly recites personal prayers (du‘a).21 At this stage, the disciple gains ma’rifa or gnostic wisdom. The akhfa’ stage in wahdat marks the stage of a wali or pir, signifying the mastery of the transcendent domains. In nafs the individual’s base instincts are completely cleansed. This stage is the highest level of sainthood for it signifies the moral and spiritual purification of the saint in both thought and action. Beyond these dimensions, lies God’s Essence, which is ontologically unattainable but conceivable. Formless Essence, on the other hand, is even beyond man’s ability to conceive of. Humans can come 20 Compare the similarity of the Naqshbandi color scheme to that of the Moroccan Gnawa order. During their all-night ritual, the adepts are possessed by seven genies or colors, signifying their spiritual transport through the various realms. The process culminates in the mystic union with God depicted as white (Paaques 1991). 21 The term “sunna” refers to the sayings and behavior of the Prophet recorded in the hadith. The “inner sunna” aims to go beyond mere outward actions by interiorizing the deeper intention or disposition behind themto know only the divine self but never God’s Formless Essence.22 While Naqhbandi theorists distinguish many more subtle stages between these, this is the basic map of spiritual ascent.23 Figure 2: Spiritual Morphology of the Naqshbandi/Mujaddidi World of Divine Command (‘alam al-amr) latifa : Location Domain Prophet Color qalb left breast Divine actions, Adam Yellow (heart) Divine attributes Ruh right breast Affirmative Abraham Red (spirit) attributes Noah sirr left breast Essential Moses White (mystery) attributes Khafi rightbreast Negative Jesus Black (arcanum) attributes akhfa’ sternum Divine self Muhammad Green (higher arcanum)
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 18:19:51 +0000
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