But should we despair? Should we turn our backs on the state of Muslims and Islam?

I have a distaste for pessimism. And so I find myself instinctively opposed to these attitudes. But my distaste is not my own. It has been cultivated by my readings of the Quran, the Ahadith (sayings) of the Prophet (saw) and by that radiant trajectory of wisdom that stretches and arcs across a millennium of Muslim civilisation – the wisdom of our saints and sages.

So when we look at the current landscape, what do we do? We could turn to the cliché of the bottle and the water. Is it half empty or half full? To the pessimist the answer is obvious. There is only one answer. To the optimist the question only starts at its being half full. Many other possibilities present themselves and spring to life. They may be the acknowledgment of the miracle of water itself. There may be the marvel of human invention in the design of the bottle. Apart from the act of drinking, there are the numerous possibilities to which the water may be put to use in unique and creative ways.

In this regard I am reminded of a most inspiring quote by Marcel Proust: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” It is not what we look at, but how and why we look at things that are the more important. We cannot always dismiss the “what”, but we ignore the “how” and “why” at our peril.

Today there are many Hujjaj (pilgrims) and potential Hujjaj who are seeking restitution, and, like all people subjected to exploitation, humiliation and degradation, restitution they must receive. But beyond the walls of restitution and requital there is yet a universe of beauty and liberating spirituality. All we need do as Muslims is never to allow ourselves to fall into that state of forgetfulness where we fail to renew and refresh our vision of things. The Quran promises us that “We shall reveal to you our signs on the horizons and within yourselves until it becomes manifest to you that He is the Truth.” And the Truth has declared itself as that which is Beautiful and that which loves beauty. “Hatta yatabayyan” (until it becomes manifest) is an emphatic imploration that we need to strive towards a continued renewal of envisioning and re-envisioning. In other words, to relentlessly strive towards seeing with “new eyes”.  The multiplicity of signs that infuse the “horizons” remains the same; likewise the innate goodness (or Fitrah) that resides in every human being as the makhluq (unique creation) of Allah (swt), and which bestows upon him or her, his or her dignity and honour, remains the same. “Kullu mawludin yawlad ‘ala l-fitrah… (Every human being is born in a natural state of goodness…).

When we turn and look at the Hajj we observe five features that enable us to re-open our eyes and to reawaken our hearts to the wonders of this event.

These are the ideas of Tadhiya or Udhiya (sacrifice) – upon which the ‘Ayd al-Adha (The Feast of Immolation) is premised – Maghfirah (forgiveness), Tawbah (repentance), Rahmah (mercy) and Ma’rifah (knowledge of the Divine). These may be conceived as five constellations in the universe of Islamic Spirituality or Tasawwuf – which constitutes the essence, not only of Islam, but of every authentically revealed religion across the ages.

In the majestic spiritual and spiritualised event of the Hajj, in all the grandeur of its dignified humility, all five of these aspects emerge in one of the most fascinating interplay of juxtaposed alterities and opposites. We shall look at these sequentially.

1) The Prophet Ibrahim’s (as) First Encounter:

a) The Prophet Ibrahim (as) and the opposition he encountered from Nimrod who considered himself a god. Here the former stands as the archetype of good – the divinely inspired representative of Allah on earth; the latter stands as the archetype of evil – the one who believed he was a little god.

The majority of exegetes are of the view that the following encounter recounted by the Quran occurred between the Prophet Ibrahim (as) and Nimrod:

Have you (Muhammad) not turned your vision to the one who disputed with Ibrahim about his Lord, because Allah had granted him power?

And Ibrahim said (to Nimrod): “My Lord is the One who gives life and death.” He replied: “I am the one who gives life and death.” Ibrahim said: “It is Allah who causes the sun to rise from the East. Could you, then, cause it to rise from the West?”

Thus was he confounded who (in arrogance) rejected faith. Nor does Allah give guidance to a people unjust.” (Quran, 2: 258).

The ubiquitous tension between justice and tyranny, between the humble that chooses dialogue and argument and the arrogant – those moronic purveyors of human perversity – that chooses force and coercion, is revealed in this Quranic story in stark aphoristic terms.  “For, Ibrahim was indeed” as the Quran states elsewhere, “forbearing, compassionate, and humbly observant of Allah.” (Quran, 11; 75).

b) The Prophet Ibrahim (the destroyer of idols), and his father Azar, (the sculptor of idols). This is a story, once again, captured by the Quran in an interplay of ostensibly irreconcilable alterities. “O my father” says Ibrahim, “knowledge has reached me that has not reached you. So follow me, I will lead you to a way that is straight.” (Quran, 19: 43).

A number of verses later – designed to declare the inspired attitudes of Prophethood deeply blessed and infused with the characteristically benign sense of the sacred – the Quran reveals the Prophetic Way with consummate finesse against the belligerent obstinacy of his father:

(The father) replied: “Do you reject my gods, O Ibrahim? If you cease not then I will indeed stone you. So depart from me for a very long time.

Ibrahim said: “Peace be upon you, I will implore my Lord to forgive you; for He, indeed, is most gracious to me.” [Italics mine] (Quran, 19: 46-7)

c) The Prophet Ibrahim (as) and the fire. “We said: ‘O fire, be cool and a source of peace for Ibrahim.” (21: 69).

To punish with fire is one of the most deplorable acts in Islam. The order to execute Ibrahim (as) by burning occurred after he had destroyed all the idols except one – the largest of all. On being questioned about the act he invited them to seek their answer from the one remaining idol. Unable to respond to the request he once again questioned the sagaciousness of believing in something that can neither produce anything good nor harmful. “Burn him!” they clamoured “if there is anything that you deem fit to do.” (Quran, 21: 68).

The heat of the burning pyre of fire was transmuted into a source of comfort for him. The power of the spirit was made to triumph over that of the material. By Divine Intent this is a demonstrative example that neither the flames of hatred in this world nor those of the next are able to touch the myriad contours of a secure, caring and loving faith. The fires of belligerence, prejudice and bigotry simply disintegrate beneath the towering efflorescence of the lasting light of secure faith.

2) Into Makkah:

a) After his migration with Hajir (as) and his son the Prophet Ismail (as), to a land (Makkah) described as a place bereft of water and vegetation (la ma’a fiha wa la zar’a) – barren and inhospitable – he was commanded to separate from them. The severe trials to which Ibrahim (as) was subjected seemed endless; the separation was painful; but he was forbearing and reaped the rewards. “And remember when Ibrahim was tried by his Lord, he fulfilled them.” (Quran, 2: 124). After multiple separations between Makkah and Hebron the ultimate purpose of these arduous journeys found their fruition. They found their consummation in the establishment of the Ka’aba – the epicentre of Islamic worship and spirituality. The moment is lauded in the Quran in the following verse: “And when Ibrahim and Ismail raised the foundations of the House, they prayed, ‘Our Lord, accept this duty from us, for indeed, You are the Hearing, the Seeing.’” (Quran, 2: 127). And the zeitgeist for its establishment, not only for that moment, but for all time, is captured in the prayer of Ibrahim (as): “My Lord! Make this a region of security (and peace) and provide its people with fruits, such as those who believe in Allah and the Last Day.” (Quran, 2: 126). True union, it appears, can only come after a painful but patient endurance of separation.

b) The barrenness of Makkah and the spring of Zam-Zam.

Hajir (as) and the young Ismail (as), were left alone in an arid wasteland. When Ibrahim took leave of them Hajir enquired from him whether it was a personal decision of his or whether it was an order from Allah. “It is an order from Allah” he replied. She accepted.  When the food and water were exhausted and the child began to cry, she took to the hillocks of Safa and Marwa, desperate in her search for nourishment. Seven times she traversed the hillocks when her gaze fell upon a bubbling spring of water at the feet of Ismail (as). Through her frantic prayers, through her consummate faith, Heaven had touched earth. And through this meeting of Heaven and earth the perennial waters of Zam-Zam flowed. Heaven is, because we are. Other than that, heaven serves no purpose; nor Hell, for that matter. Hajir (as) is the archetypal symbol of relentless hope and faith and stands at once as both a deeply immersed and deeply interfused embodiment of the Quranic verse: “Do not despair of the Mercy of Allah.” (Quran, 39: 53). The rejuvenation of life itself, we learn, is possible under the bleakest of conditions. For this reason alone the memory of Hajir has been immortalised in the sa’y (traversing the distance between the hillocks of Safa and Marwa seven times) as one of the integrals of the rites of Hajj. The sa’y itself is a majestic symbol of the near imponderables of Feminine hope, faith, courage and spirituality. Males – and particularly those with a dim view of our female counterparts – would do well to remember this. Perhaps then we might rediscover the vitalising potential of hope, faith, courage and spirituality within our own lives. Without this perception and understanding, the sa’y itself might prove to be quite unremarkable, let alone an integral.

c) His dua’s (prayers) for a son and the subsequent command to sacrifice him.

Ibrahim (as), whose hands were raised in earnest appeal for a child, was now commanded to slaughter that very child. While the life of Zam-Zam flowed for Hajir and Ismail the sacrificial blood of Ismail now had to flow for the sake of the Divine. Beyond every test for the Prophet Ibrahim (as) and Sayyiditna Hajir (as) this is the one that evinces the greatest sense of pathos. The joys, pleasures and bliss of parenthood can be wonderful and inspiring. But the pain and burdens may often be greater. It is difficult to imagine the pain and burden of these two great people now called upon to sacrifice a child they had sacrificed so much for.

d) The Prophet Ibrahim (as) and Iblis: The Nur (Light) of Prophethood and the Thulm (darkness) of Iblis. Confronted with this daunting task to sacrifice his son Iblis conspired to dissuade him. It was but a “dream” (ahlam) Iblis averred. What rational, what sane, what compassionate human being could allow him/herself to succumb to such an unimaginable perversion through the promptings of a mere dream? The extraordinary irony of this moment is inescapable. Here we have the archetype of corruption and perversity masquerading as the humane voice of mercy, compassion and respect for life. In contrast, the “voice” of the Divine is cast as a mere delusion – a deceptive dream, specious and spurious deserving of little more than acrid contempt. In this extradiegetic Quranic account of Ibrahim (as) and Iblis (in the theatre of this “Divine Tragedy”) light is presented as darkness; and darkness as light – a condition that both presents that primordial condition of the ultimate tension of duality in a world of a unifying diversity. The reality of te spiritual way – we learn from this story – is that the spiritual way, the way of ruhaniyyah, is that where there is light, darkness always lurks. But it is a darkness that often lurks in the vestments of light – a condition not unlike much of what modern hubris often pretends to be. As modern “owners” of this planet – and not like the ‘ibad ar-Rahman (the Bondsmen of the Merciful) we ought to be and who ought to walk upon the earth with humility (Quran, 25: 63) – we often miserably misread the darkness of our egos for the light of rationality and liberated progress. Revelation belongs to the realm of ahlam (dreams); humane rationality to that of ilham (inspiration) – a singular perversion of contrasts. We often appear condemned to confusing the satanic with the Adamic.

e) Divine purpose in the form of Ibrahim (as) contrasted with human perversity in the form of Nimrod and satanic perversity in the form of Iblis: between Hebron and Makkah, Ibrahim (as) alternated between a human tyrant who imagined himself as a god and a supra-terrestrial being who had in fact witnessed God yet remains the archetypal symbol of all that rejects God. In other words, witnessing God as Iblis did is no guarantee of belief. His kibr, his arrogance alone in refusing to bow to Adam (as), declared him a kafir.

3) ‘Arafah:

a) The expulsion of the Prophet Adam (as) and Hawa (as) from Jannah (the Paradisal Abode) and their meeting at Jabal Rahmah on ‘Arafah.

After a moment of forgetfulness in eating from the “Forbidden Tree”, Adam (as) and Hawa (as), were expelled from Paradise. It is singularly significant that the word “human” translated into Arabic is “Insan”. The root word for “Insan” is nisyan (to forget). The human is a forgetful being that stands in need of dhikr (remembrance of Allah) to reconnect and remind the forgetful self of its ultimate spiritual vocation in gaining nearness to Allah. The Edenic celestial abode that Adam (as) and Hawa (as) inhabited was no guarantee against such forgetfulness. And so they were expelled to this earthly domain. But Allah’s Mercy perennially precedes His wrath. Written upon the Throne (’Arsh) of Allah are the words “My Mercy infinitely, precedes my Wrath.” And so it happened (by a Merciful Divine decree) that Adam (as) and Hawa (as) were reunited – after a long duration of earthly separation – on the plain of ‘Arafah, at a mount now called Jabal Rahmah (The Mount of Mercy). Once again Heaven touched earth and Mercy was triumphant. It is through the figuration of these two souls, fashioned with love and mercy, and re-united through love and mercy, that we honour our standing on ‘Arafah with the bedrock of Jabal Rahmah at its centre. The singular moral of this story is that Divine retribution holds within itself – unrelentingly – the promise of Divine Mercy.

b) It is partly for the above supernal act of divine Grace that it is haram (prohibited) to believe that maghfirah (forgiveness) will not be granted on ‘Arafah. The normal order of things is that we need to implore Allah for forgiveness; on ‘Arafah we are compelled to accept His forgiveness.

c) Unity and diversity on ‘Arafah: this symbolizes the fact that the complexion of Islam as a civilization of oneness is coloured by this complexion of diversity. The nature of Tawhid can only find its fruition in acknowledgement of that diversity. There is no room, no scope, for prejudice and bigotry in Islam.

The Quran states:

And so amongst people, and crawling creatures and cattle, are they of various colours. Those truly fear Allah amongst His servants who have knowledge, for Allah is exalted in Might, oft forgiving. (Quran, 35: 28).

And equally emphatically:

And of His signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the variations in your languages and your colours. Indeed herein are signs for those who have knowledge. (Quran, 30:22)

d) Knowledge and ignorance.

One of the root words for ‘Arafah is “Irfan” (or knowledge inspired and learnt from the Divine). The acquisition of knowledge is one of the most encouraged and emphatic demands of the Quran and the Way of the Prophet Muhammad (saw). Said the Prophet (saw): “The seeking of knowledge is obligatory upon every Muslim male and female.” An ignorant Muslim is an oxymoron. ‘Arafah stands as an immortalised symbol of that Divine imperative. This is a form of knowledge that is not merely limited to discursive reasoning and mechanical rationality; but one that sets out to embrace the wisdom behind the diversity of the created order. One that opens hearts and souls to the beauty of inclusion and that disbars the ravaging effects of bigoted and narrow exclusivism. It is a form of knowledge which, while paying homage to the particularities of any religious dispensation, places far greater importance on the war, embracing engagement of universalism.

Says the Quran:

O people, We have created you male and female and made you into nations and tribes that you may come to know one another (not that you may despise one another). Indeed, the most honoured in the sight of Allah is the most righteous amongst you. (49:13)

e) The deep, silent introspection, meditation and reflection of ‘Arafah precedes the activity of pelting the jamarat at Mina. Despite the millions of people, those who have been there will recall the all-pervasive silence and tranquillity that sets in after the Noon prayers. The echoing silence encourages, indeed demands, a moment of profound contemplation. It is a silence that tells us that there can be no productive action before the requisite reflection. Only souls purified by forgiveness (maghfirah), by an understanding of the human condition – male and female – as essentially equal in the “eyes” of Allah that are souls qualified to pelt shaytan. Other than that they need to to urn the stones and pelt the shaytan within themselves. Indeed, this is a moment where we need to reflect and recognise the importance of starving the go and feeding the soul.

4) Makkah – Symbolic acts and Sites:

a) The counter-clockwise movement around the Ka’ba instead of the usual clockwise movement.

This requires a suspension of linear and discursive thinking and symbolises a condition designed to arrest the march of time and return the devotee to the first primordial call of Ibrahim (as) reflected in the Quranic verse:

And proclaim the pilgrimage among people; they will come to you on foot and mounted on every kind of camel, lean on account of journeys through deep and distant mountain highways. That they may witness the benefits provided for them, and celebrate the name of Allah through the days appointed…” (22: 27-8).

Since the day the words “they will come to you” were revealed they have represented a metaphorical visitation of the maqam (station) of Ibrahim (as). And that maqam is the maqam of Peace and Salutations. It is well to remember that “salutations” do not only mean “greetings” but also “recognition”.  At the physical “Maqam of Ibrahim” we should therefore stand in recognition of the one upon whom the peace and blessings of Allah were bestowed for his sacrifices, commitment and endurance. For those of spiritual insight it is quite irrelevant whether the physical maqam is on the exact location or not. It is important that we understand the meaning of our salutations at this station. In spiritual terms (or, more accurately, in tasawwuf or Sufism) a spiritual maqam is a status that marks a permanent condition of spiritual attainment (such as mahabbah – love for Allah and for one’s fellow human being, or sakinah – an inner state of tranquillity with oneself, with others and ultimately with Allah, the Exalted); as opposed to a hal (spiritual state) that marks a transitory phase of Divine inspiration).

Through recognition comes internalisation. It is in the internalisation of these above-mentioned values, those of sacrifice, commitment and endurance – and face-to-face with the maqam of Ibrahim (as) – that the pilgrim (Haj) finds his or her emancipation.

b) The Hajr al-Aswad.

The “Black Stone”, or Hajr al-Aswad, perched in a single corner of the Ka’aba at the most sacred centre of the Muslim world, stands darkened by the sins of humanity. Said the Prophet: “The Black Stone came down from Paradise whiter than milk, but the sins of Adam’s offspring turned it black.”

At the most sacred nexus in the world of Islam we are confronted with one of the most ironic juxtapositions of sin and salvation. Millennia of accumulated sins of forgetfulness, disobedience and transgressions lie ensconced in a canopy of mercy and forgiveness. Within the hallowed precincts of the Masjid al-Haram the Black stone stands almost indiscernible, yet alive in its presence, not because of the “sins” it has gathered and ingurgitated, but because of the fact that no sin, no matter how great in magnitude, can never supersede the overarching Mercy and Forgiveness of Allah. And so it is that the pilgrims rush and clamour to kiss the “Right Hand” of Allah – the Hand of Clemency and Compassion.

5) A Final Word:

Finally, when we depart for Hajj we depart in a state of penitence with the full consciousness of ourselves as erring and forgetful human beings. It is imperative before our departure to seek forgiveness from those whom we have wronged. But after a sincere and successful hajj, we return as pure as the day on which our mothers gave birth to us. Sid the Prophet (saw): Man lam yarfuth wa lam yafsuq, raja’ ka yawmi waladathu ummuhu – Those who do not engage in verbal and physical obscenities will return (to their homelands) as pure as the day their mothers gave birth to them. We return, in other words, on our original fitra (our natural, primordial state). We ought to return, therefore, as a guiding light of the lights of those five constellations of Tadhiya, Maghfirah, Tawbah, Rahmah and Ma’rifah. We ought to return, as it were, as repositories of mercy and gateways of blessings for those who now seek our dua’s (supplications).

6) A Quranic Postscript:

I conclude this talk with two verses from the Quran:

The first House of Worship appointed for people was that at Bakkah. Filled with blessings and as a guidance to the entire created order.

In it are signs manifest, such as the Station of Ibrahim… (3, 96-7)

And the heart of the message in situ:

He Ibrahim said: “I will go to my Lord! He will surely guide me. O my Lord grant me a righteous child.”

So We gave him the good news of a boy ready to suffer and forbear. Then when Isma’il reached the age of maturity and competence Ibrahim said: ‘O my son I se in a vision that I offer you in sacrifice. Now consider, what is your opinion?”

(Isma’il) said: “O my father, do as you have been commanded to do. You will find me, Allah willing, one steadfast and patient.”

So when they had both submitted their wills to Allah and he had laid him down on his face for the sacrifice, We called out to him: ‘O Ibrahim you have fulfilled the vision!”

Indeeed in this way do We reward those who do right. For this was obviously a test. And we ransomed him with a momentous sacrifice (of a ram). Then We left this blessing for him among generations to come in later times.

“Peace and salutations upon Ibrahim!”

In this manner do We reward those who do right. For he (Ibrahim) was one of the believing servants. (Quran, 37: 99-111).

It is because of this spirit of peace, salutations and Divine reward that we are compelled to acknowledge the greatness of Hajj – hence the importance of expressing joy in a spirit of celebration and elevated togetherness on the day of Eid.

And Allah knows best.

Shaykh Seraj Hendricks

Al-Zawiyah Mosque

Cape Town.

6 November, 2011.

To place Light upon our tongues and in our speaking;

To place Light in our hearts and in our understanding;

And to guide us with the Light of wisdom to our final parting.

May all of us embrace, and be embraced, by the Light.

Allahu Nur as-Samawat wa l-‘Ard…

Nur ‘ala Nur yahdi Allahu li nurihi man yasha’

“Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth…

Light upon Light, Allah guides to His Light whomsoever He wills.” (24:35)

Eid Mubarak to everyone.

Sh Seraj Hendricks

All praise belongs to Allah Who has declared the month of Ramadan the lord of all months and Who has perfected its glory in so far as He has placed it as a well-spring of blessings and grace. In it He has revealed the Quran as a warning, as a healing and as a guidance to all that resides within (our) breasts.

I praise Him, the Glorious, the Sublime; and I turn to Him in repentance with complete trust and with complete dependence. And I bear witness that there is no deity other than Allah, the Unique, the One without peer – Majestic and Exalted. The One Who stands in no need of companion or offspring.

I bear witness that our master and our Prophet Muhammad is His servant and His messenger – a Prophet who has come to us with clear proofs and as a Guide.

May the blessings of Allah be upon him, his family and his companions – blessings and peace that are perennial and constant, endless and eternal – and may he be granted the greatest salvation.

Bondsmen of Allah, the one who exerts his soul with obedience to Allah has indeed regaled it. And the one who has disciplined it through performance of the Divine commands and avoidance of the prohibitions has indeed set it free. And the one who wishes to enter the Garden, let him repent, for repentance during this month is the key to the Garden. So be conscious of Allah, O bondsmen of Allah, and turn in repentance to Him; for Allah, the Exalted, has full knowledge of all that you are.

This is the month of fasting, this is the month of vigilance in prayer, this is the month of the Sovereign perfected in knowledge. This is the month of giving and cementing the ties of kinship. This is the month of support and care for th0se who are poor and those who are orphans. This is the month of feeding and the spreading of peace. This is the month in which the Quran is constantly recited. This is the month during which the doors of the Garden are opened and the doors of Perdition are closed. This is the month in which Allah purifies the corporeal human condition, illuminates the created order and bestows upon all things the blessings of His beneficence.

O you (unbeknownst): how is it possible for one to fast while he devours the flesh of his fellowmen through backsliding and slander? Or how is it possible for one to pray while his heart is in one place and his body in another? Or how is it possible for one to give in charity from that which has been procured unlawfully? In this case his likeness is that of one who clothes another while he himself remains naked.

The truth I speak; and the truth –  for all – is bitter and difficult to bear. Each one of us is alike in this – the speaker and those who listen. In this our misfortune is one! For indeed “from Allah we come, and to Him we will return.”

Said the Prophet (pbuh): “The sleep of one who fasts is a form of worship; one’s silence is a glorification of Allah; the reward of one’s deeds are multiplied manifold; one’s prayers are answered; and one’s sins are forgiven.”

Translated by: Sh Seraj Hendricks

Do not envy one another, do not vie against and undercut one another, do not hate one another, do not turn your backs on one another

(Sahih Muslim)

Bigotry, prejudice, exclusivity and hostility – phobias in a variety of shapes and hues – appear to have emerged as the hallmarks of large tracts of humanity. They are no less evident in those who harbour a visceral hatred of Islam than amongst some of our own Muslims who mistake the grist for the wheat – the exoteric contingencies for the cardinal verities. It is one thing to maintain a detached and confident distance of objective criticism; it is quite another to collapse an entire world view – founded upon a universal edifice of purposive spirituality – into an obscurantist pit of regressive rigidity.

To be fair and objective is a divine imperative: “Do not let the hatred of a people cause you to swerve from justice; be just! For that is nearer to God-consciousness (taqwa).” (Q, 5: 8). To be reactionary, on the other hand, is satanic and a mark of spiritual dementia. It is what happens to reductionist ideologues and conspiracy theorists who conflate oceans of human complexity into shallow and tiny puddles of delusional certainty. And so they sit and stare at their little puddles with the full complacency that they have discovered the vastness and diversity of an ocean. Richard Dawkins, in my opinion and paradoxically so, is part of this “god delusion”. We know it all. Yet the Qur’an tells us – and I do not quote this for the edification of those who do not believe in Him (I am not a missionary) – that “Of knowledge we have given you but a little!” (Q,17: 85).

To undo this Pharaonic disease might require a miracle such as the staff of the Prophet Musa (as). Thrice he had to strike with it. Once to cleave a path of liberation across the Red Sea, another to devour the serpents of the Pharoah’s magicians, and a third to elicit the gushing forth of twelve springs of water from a crust of solid rock. But miracles are not for everyone – nor are they often the recommended way. What we need is a yearning to know; and an even greater yearning to know that we do not always know. We need to be blessed with the passion of the seeker – the murid (the one who yearns). For these lessons we need to turn to the likes of Ibn ‘Arabi (ra) – sages we are afraid to face, not because of our fear of God, but because we are afraid to stand face to face with our selves.

My palm grasped my stick, my staff smote my rock;

The river of constellations flowed from it: Twelve heralds!

I said to myself: Oh I! Add constancy to my constancy!

These are the sciences of life, scattering light from all that

grows upon my  being.

Where in me does that subtle secret reside that God has

placed within my essences?

(Ibn ‘Arabi: The Universal Tree and the Four Birds)

Rumi (ra) eminently represents the Way of Love (mahabbah) and Beauty (Jamal), and Ibn ‘Arabi (ra) the Way of Majesty (Jalal). While both, simultaneously, have strong undercurrents of each, Ibn ‘Arabi – in typical Ghazalian-esque fashion – articulates the desire to realise the connection between the created order and God in a manner designed to inspire awe and reverence. And so he speaks about the “scattering” of light by the shadows of our existence from the “essence” of his being. But existence itself can be both a veil and an unveiling. This is not so much a question of discursive reason as it is one of vision and experience. The language of reason speaks of commitment and responsibility – the necessary correlatives of our earthly obligations. These reference the sphere of our social existence as attachments qua attachments; and not worldly “attachments” as the antonymous condition of spiritual “detachment”. Islam has dispensed an entire legal framework to ensure that our earthly responsibilities are met and honoured. “Detachment”, on the other hand, is one of spiritual vision and experience. It is one of responsiveness and not one of responsibility. Responsiveness belongs to the realm of the heart – not the discursive faculties. When existence as a combined tellurian and temporal condition eclipses the inherently sacred nature of things – the entelechies, as it were – infused within this fleeting earthly domain, then existence itself becomes a veil. In other words, we become “attached” in the worldly sense. On the other hand, if we open our hearts and minds to the presence of the sacred through purification of the lower self (nafs) and find ourselves responsive to such words of God as: “He is the First and the Last; the Inner and the Outer” (Q, 57:3) and “Whithersoever you turn there is the Face of Allah” (Q, 2: 115) – words that speak of the inherent and divinely ontic nature of things – then the created order in all its paradoxical manifestations of allurements and temptations on the one hand, and beauty and aesthetics on the other, may well act as our “gathering” instead of our “scattering”. And so, through the superficial mists of this earthly domain Ibn ‘Arabi persisted in his soulful yearning where he took to his

…complaining of my passion so that my signs would appear upon my eyelids from the essence of my creation. Then He lavished gathering upon my scattering.

And continues:

My essence conjoined passionately with my essence, for my essence, my whole life long.

[Italics mine. The Universal Tree and the Four Birds]

Even more significantly he states:

When the signs of witnessing were lifted from me and the suffering of spiritual combat was removed, and harmony and succour began to flow through me, I mounted the Buraq[†] of my spiritual aspiration and departed from the cycle of this grief. I fell into the sea of this hylic matter, and beheld the next world and the present one.

[The Universal Tree and the Four Birds]

The created, material order – this “sea…of hylic matter” – is a double-edged phenomenon. In the divine scheme of things, it is deliberately so. It is an “order” that can drag us to the lowest of the low (the asfal al-safalin in Quranic terms), or it can elevate us to the most sublime of heights. In our quest for detachment from the world we do not need to turn our backs on it; we merely need to understand and realise that the diversity that characterises the created order has a symbolic significance that has the potential to powerfully impress upon us the overwhelming  presence of the One, the Ahad. Referencing the ontic connection between these two modes of being Allah states:

We shall reveal to them Our symbols, both upon the horizons and within themselves, until it becomes manifest to them that He, indeed, is the Truth. (Q, 41: 53)

In our journey from the periphery to the centre, from diversity to Unity, we do not need to abandon the periphery. We merely need to understand both its significance and location in the hierarchical structure of the cosmic and the meta-cosmic scheme of things – of the mulk and the malakut. William Wordsworth – a great admirer of the Prophet (saw) and who influenced Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “The Revolt of Islam” – articulates the paradox of our earthly existence in two poems. In the one, whose opening line is also the title of the poem, he says:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

In another – and one of his most famed poems composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey – he states:

…And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy

Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,

And the round ocean and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:

A motion and a spirit, that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,

And rolls through all things.

In like manner we may understand the apparent antinomies within the Qur’an where, on the one hand it states “And what is the life of this world other than mere deceptive enjoyment.?” (Q, 3: 185) and, on the other, it urges us to meditate and reflect upon existence through the exhortation: “Do they not reflect upon the camels, how they have been created; and upon the sky, how it has been raised; and upon the mountains, how they have been fixed and set up, and upon the earth, how it has been spread out…?” (Q,88: 17-20). The question is one of perspective and perception.

The Arabic word used to reference “world” in the former verse is dunya (from the root word dana – to be near). In this dunyawi delusion we are amongst those referred to in the Qur’an as Zalimun li Nafsihi – those who have imprisoned our souls in the domain of the mundane and the profane. On the other hand, the objective of the spiritual journey (of suluk) is to gain nearness to Allah – to become of the muqarrabun (another word connoting nearness from the root word qurba, meaning “to be near”). The muqarrabun are those whose hearts have been brought near to Allah. They are the ulul al-bab (the possessors of the inner kernel of knowledge) – those of whom Allah says:

Indeed, in the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the alternation of the night and the day, there are signs for a people of profound understanding ( ulul al-bab).

Those who remember Allah, whether standing, sitting, or lying down; and who contemplate the marvels of creation in the heavens and the earth with the full realisation: Our Lord, not in vain have You created all of this! Glory to You! So protect us from the Fire. (Q, 3: 190-1). [Italics mine].

They are those for whom the doors of inner perception – at the very core of their hearts – have opened. For them, diversity is a liberation and not a limitation. For them, to unleash bigotry and hatred against the “other” while claiming to worship a merciful Creator is tantamount to the radiant fluorescence of a rose denying the vitalising sap of its roots. While the roots cannot rival the rose in its beauty, the rose cannot find its beauty without its sap. In the eye of the intractable exoterist the roots remain relentlessly buried and disowned. This is lucidly expressed by the metaphor of the shajara tayyiba (the “wholesome tree”) and the kalima tayyiba (the “wholesome word”) in the Qur’an.  The kalima tayyiba as the Qur’an declares, is

As a wholesome tree whose root is firmly fixed and whose branches reach into heaven.

It brings forth its fruit at all times by the permission of its Lord. (Q, 14: 24-5).

We notice here the function of figurative speech – and of the metaphor in particular – in delivering a wealth of meanings to explicate a reality that pulses with the immediacy of experience. While literal understandings have their uses, their hegemony in exegetical exercises must be challenged. These hegemonies, these barriers to the heart and mind, must be transcended. There is the false notion in counter-Traditionalist thinking that the admission of majaz (metaphors) in the Qur’an is prohibited. These views are promulgated by people who often suffer a serious paucity in their own understanding of literature and language. This notion is reinforced by the equally false notion that literal meanings (and their accompanying denotations) are free from ambiguity. So it is in the zahir  - the external, the outer, the literal – meanings, and the zahir alone that they seek their understanding. This approach is inspired by the oftentimes incorrigibly incorrect idea that the literal word or sentence is free of ambiguity. In Traditional and classical approaches, the assumed literal meanings were the default point of departure; but they were not regarded as the summum bonum of what the divine word possibly meant. And so we have a wealth of interpretations within that Tradition – the mesmerically profound and the fabulously superficial. Moreover, ambiguities within the literal word or sentence may even have fatal consequences.  A telling modern example is that of a British court ruling during the 1950s that dealt with the case of a young man named Derek Bentley and his friend Chris Craig. Craig was in possession of a gun at the time of Derek’s arrest. The dispute resulted from an order Derek gave to his friend when he said: “Let him have it Craig.” Craig whipped out his gun, shot and killed the policeman. The question in court was whether Derek meant “Let the policeman have the gun” or “Shoot the policeman.” The jury voted in favour of the latter and Derek was hanged. Craig was too young  to be executed. This case is still a sensitive matter of moral debate[‡]. The point is that there is nothing metaphorical about the sentence “Let him have it.” Given factors such as context, ambiguity, allusion and cognitive content, the apparent monovalency of the literal word or sentence was usually considered with the overarching universe of the multivalent metaphor in mind. This was the case with much of Traditional exegetical exercises. We may seek our comfort in literal meanings but the consequences, at times, could be devastating. We are also reminded here of the story  – more hilarious than devastating though – of a companion of the Prophet (saw) who interpreted the verse referencing  the fast: “And eat and drink until the white thread of dawn becomes distinct from the black” (Q, 2: 187) by tying two strings of white and black threads to the toes of his two feet and then settled down in the dark to watch when the one would become distinct from the other. The Prophet had to remind him that it was the white and black “threads” of the skyline at dawn he had to observe. More problematic, of course, is when we attempt to apply the a somewhat troubled, anthropomorphic literalism to the Qur’anic verse “All things will perish except the Face of Allah.” (Q, 28: 88).

Returning to our metaphor of the “wholesome word” and “the wholesome  tree”, the efficacy of Qur’anic text lies in the realisation that its text qua text is not a mere facsimile, or simulacrum, of an undifferentiated supernal reality. The reach of the branches and leaves of this tree is universal and represents the wonders of the diversity of God’s creation. By the same token, these wonders lie obscure and obfuscated in the minds of those who have chosen the way of bigotry, of revelling in division and divisiveness, and of a compulsive focus on worldly power and other allurements of the dunya while pompously speaking in the name of religion. These hold true for all those who speak in the name of the Qur’an, the Bible, the Torah and all other sacred texts.

Those who persist in reading the universality of the sacred text of the Qur’an in a narrowly exclusivist and selective way have chosen to remain as inmates of their dunyawi delusion. And so Allah emphatically questions this stubbornness, this refusal to embrace and recognise the spiritual richness and moral generosity that lie deeply embedded within all human creatures – for creatures (as created miracles ) of God we are. For it is us, as humans, in our sublunar existence, who have reduced the Word of God to mere communication and have demonstrably – through our limitations – shown a complete lack of understanding of the Word of God as creational revelation viz. a creation that is reflexive of an infinitude that is exegetically inexhaustible. The Qur’anic language is profoundly metaphorical – it lives, it breathes, it inspires. It is through God’s Word “Kun! – Be!” (Q, 2: 177) that all creation was brought into existence. The command prefigures – or adumbrates – the inexhaustible divine narrative articulated in the verse:

Say: If the ocean were ink for the words of my Lord, then the ocean would be exhausted before the words of my Lord, even though we brought the like thereof to help. (Q, 18: 109).

By its own testimony the Qur’an reminds us that while the word of Allah in the Qur’an – as recited text – is the perfect word, it is, nonetheless, not the complete word. It can never be, for the creational Word is both ineffable and inexhaustible. It is our earthly vocation to strive for perfection in this world. “Today” the Qur’an states “I have perfected for you your religion.” (Q, 5: 3). On the other hand, it is our spiritual vocation to embark on a journey of gaining nearness to Allah; and it is through the power and fluidity of the metaphor – forever stretching the horizons of our understanding and imagination – that we are allowed to undertake this journey of ever-unfolding realms of spiritual ascensions that lie at the centre of humankind’s deepest yearnings. We are forever longing for something greater than ourselves. It is at this level that unilocular literalism fails – and fails abysmally. The literalist is merely interested in communicating rules and regulations – a world both confined and claustrophobic. The outlook is a mechanistic caricature of the human being’s subordination to his/her own self-imposed limitations – and, in addition,  to reduce others to their own narcissistic self-impositions. In this world of literalism there is an absence of, or an incapacity to behold and embrace, the finer and subtler edges of language – the ironies, the metonyms, the allegories, the sublime echoes of the metaphor; in short there is a failure to recognise that the Word of God is eminently creational as substantiated by the word “Kun”. The Word of God creates; that of the human names. This process of naming is an attempt to insubstantiate; to infuse and invest meaning in an order of creation vitalised by the Word of God – and not named by Him. “And God taught Adam the names of all things.” (Q, 2:31).  Yet it was not in the naming of things that he gained his originally sublime station – he had witnessed the First Order of creation before he was taught the names. And before he was taught to communicate he inhabited the as yet un-named Edenic bliss of the Garden – the product of the creational Word of God. And he and Hawwa stood naked in the presence of God for they had no names with which to label, to classify, or to pronounce upon. There was only pure being – a purity that met its greatest challenge and nemesis in the “forbidden tree.” And it has since been the spiritual purpose of all the sages and saints to return to that nameless state of unadulterated and pure being represented in the first incarnation of the Edenic state. In our earthly sojourn – after the great expulsion -  the greatest challenge has been to reclaim this inner Edenic state that resides, by virtue of Divine providence, within the hearts of every human being. And so we are referred to as Bani Adam (the Tribe Of Adam) to remind us of our original fitra – the original primordiality of the human condition. So that during our lifetimes our lineage is ascribed to our fathers, and, when we die,  while lying in our graves, the Death Sermon ascribes our lineage to our mothers. We arrive into this lesser earthly domain with our lineage ascribed to our fathers and depart from it to the higher celestial domain with our lineage ascribed to our mothers.

Yet all the while during this earthly sojourn we pride ourselves on an ultraprecise naming of objects and imagine that we have excavated the meanings of life that reference the heart of all things. And so we mistake the ostensible importance of the profane for the sacred. And deep within the god-like insubstantiation of our hyperactive egos we imagine that we have stumbled upon the complete Word of God – without, needless to say, understanding either.

And so we plod – with self-righteous verve and vigour – along our zealous and violent paths of destruction and spiritual nihilism. When we are invited to observe and glorify the beauty of the diversity of this world we pronounce kufr (unbelief) and reprehensible innovation (bid’a) upon all which does not find a correspondence – or a home – within the narrow dormitories of our compulsive naming. We easily forget that the charge of kufr (unbelief) against another is no less serious than the kufr of denial, the kufr of marginalisation and the kufr of contempt against the perceived “other”. We also forget that the charge of kufr – particularly against a fellow Muslim – is a charge against the Divine Word of Allah, and so it is that the hadith is quite emphatic that if one lays the charge of unbelief against another that either of the two must be an unbeliever. One could either be right, or, worse still, one could be wrong, and hence pronounce a declaration of kufr upon oneself. This is the nature of the takfir circus: one could either utter a word of truth, even in jest, as is the wont of clowns; or one could have one’s head ripped off in the jaws of a lion – if one is not careful.

It comes as no surprise therefore, that to pour scorn upon the rest of God’s creation is tantamount to what God refers to as an “evil word”:

And the similitude of an evil word is as an evil tree uprooted from the earth and has no stability. (Q, 14: 26)

The “tongue” as the Prophetic traditions maintain, is the source of the greatest evil and mischief. In the majestic amphitheatre of God’s creation and upon the resplendent canvass of His Artistry, we scandalise the “Word” of God in both our refusal to listen and in our abnegation of diversity. Most aptly we find in Surat al-Hajj (The Pilgrimage) God, the Most High, asking:

Have they not travelled through the land, and have they not hearts receptive to wisdom, and ears with which to listen? For indeed, it is not the eyes, but the hearts within the breasts that grow blind. (Q, 22: 46).

It is through a pilgrimage of the heart that we come to honour and magnify the symbols (sha’a’ir) of God. It is only through hearts enlarged and enlightened by an intense consciousness of Him – through taqwa – that we are able to appreciate and respect the diversity of the divine canvass. Beyond this, God has prohibited injustice upon himself, and likewise prohibited it amongst ourselves. The gravity of this condition lies in Him prohibiting it upon Himself. A veiled warning more than dire against despots, tyrants and belligerent extremists – those censorious impostors who speak in the name of their god-selves while they claim to speak in the name of God. Whether they are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu or whatever. In the eye of the fanatic one is either with them or against them. Not even God speaks in a language of such benighted binaries. It appears as a matter of pure providence that, in one way or another, fanatics always lose. They either lose their humanity or they lose the battle.

Far removed from this condition of implosive and insensate insecurities are the inspiring Qur’anic implorations to encounter His creational Word with awe, respect and a refined sense of all things aesthetic – whether of the natural or the human order. These implorations may flow from the Qur’an as commands – as recountered earlier – or they may flow as descriptions. Says the Qur’an:

Do you not see that Allah sends down rain from the sky? With it We then bring forth produce of various colours. And among the mountains are tracts white and red, of various hues, and (others) raven-black.

And so amongst people, and crawling creatures and cattle, are they of various colours. Those truly fear Allah amongst His servants who have knowledge, for Allah is exalted in Might, oft forgiving. (Q, 35: 27-8).

The human order too, is further revealed in a frame of reverential diversity:

And of His signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the variations in your languages and your colours. Indeed herein are signs for those who have knowledge. (Q, 30:22).

Throughout the Qur’an – and beyond these commands and descriptions – are revealed a constellation of human typologies almost unparalleled in the genre of sacred literature.  There are those described as being unjust to themselves (zalimun li nafsihi), those of a balanced disposition (muqtasidin) and those who are amongst the foremost in spirituality (sabiqun). In addition, there are those described as the ashab al-mash’ama (the people of the left hand), the ashab al-maymana (the people of the right hand), the sabiqun as-sabiqun (the foremost of the foremost) and the muqarrabun (those drawn near to God). There are also a special category of those beloved to Him: the muhsinun (those of spiritual excellence), the tawwabun (the repenters), the mutatahhirun (the spiritually purified), the muttaqun (the intensely God-conscious), the sabirun (the people of endurance and patience), the mutawakkilun (those faithfully but actively reliant on God) and the muqsitun (those who are just and fair). Along with these we encounter a host of contrarieties such as the munafiqun (hypocrites), the kafirun (deniers and unbelievers), and zalimun (oppressors). Indeed there are many more. Yet generically all humans are referred to as the khulafa (vicegerents) of Allah on earth. As  khulafa and particularly as khulafa with the ever-present potential for tawba (repentance, reformation and change) we are either promising children of the moment or providential gifts of the future. In other words, the ever-present nafs al-insan (soul of the human) is perpetually exposed to the redeeming and liberating nafasa r-Rahman (the Breath of the Merciful).

While Islam holds no prisoners, we may yet allow ourselves to be haunted by the demons of the past, which is an injustice in itself; or, far worse, try to hold others accountable for theirs. These may either be the demons of  our own sins and errors, or those of others. Much more terrifying, however, is to unleash our inner demons of bigotry, hostility and self-righteous anger upon the very order that God has created in a state of original innocence and designed to embrace purity, goodness, virtue and wisdom:

So turn your being to religion and follow the natural disposition according to which Allah has created humanity. There is no altering the nature created by Allah. This is the right religion, but most people does not know. (Q, 30: 30).

Indeed the pristine and primordial nature of things cannot change, but they can be rejected. An understanding of this primal condition of creation – including its manifested aspect of outer diversity – requires not only observation and reflection, but also the realisation and absorption of its inner symbolic meanings. We need to understand that the “outer” and the “inner” – the zahir and the batin respectively – of God’s inflected creational Word act as complementarities that unremittingly urge us to seek both the Beauty and Majesty of His uniqueness through the diversity of His Divine creative act. And this is an act that is in a state of flux and change for as long as creation continues to exist. Says Allah:

Say: “Are there any of the partners you associate with Allah who can originate creation and then reproduce it?” Say: “It is Allah who originates creation and then renews it. How then are you deluded from the Truth?” (Q, 10: 34).

The thread that binds the splendour of diversity into the ultimate goal of the realisation of unity and unicity is the unchanging, unalterable fitra within which the created order is cast – that pure, spiritually nurturing womb within which everything resides and grows. And so it is that every child is “born on his/her fitra.” It is the discursive mind that comprehends change; it is the heart that connects with the sapient stability of the fitra. These verses, amongst others, speak of a God that rejects the reductionism of myopic binaries – the reductionism of creation into a spiritually and socially corrosive “we” and “they”; or, more emphatically,  into  a demonic division of a belligerent acknowledgment of, and acquiescence to, the ideas of  ghayr (“other”) and ghayriyyyah (“otherness”) as expressed by Shaykh Yusuf of Macassar. Or we could choose the path of la ghayriyyah (a rejection of a divisive sense of “otherness”), of God the Creator Who is neither of the East nor of the West, and so connect with the Light:

God is the Light

Of the heavens and the earth.

The similitude of God’s Light

Is like a niche within which is a lamp,

The globe of glass as if it were a shining star;

Lit from a blessed olive tree

Neither of the East or the West,

Its Light nearly luminous

Even though fire did not touch it.

Light upon Light!

God guides to this Light

Whomever God will:

And God gives people examples,

And God knows all things. (Q, 24: 35)

Or we could choose to mire ourselves in the veil of “ghayriyyah” and sink into

…the darknesses

In an ocean deep and vast

covered by waves billowing upon waves

and above them clouds.

Darkness, one on top of another.

If one stretched out a hand ,

One would hardly see it.

And whoever God gives no Light

Shall have no Light at all. (Q, 24: 40).

The former verse represents the essence and way of the fitra, eminently represented in the Divine Himself; the latter the way of fitna (rebellion in all its forms and particularly against the spiritual).

Nonetheless, as Muslims we  ought not to be remiss in recognising our blessings, for the blessings of God are indeed innumerable. “And if you would count the favours of Allah you would not be able to enumerate them.” (Q, 14: 34). We also have a sacred Tradition – despite the rampant materialism of our contemporary age – embodied in the hearts of those sages and saints through whom waves of timeless and unceasing barakah continue to animate the shores of our present times with regaling sprays of a living spirituality. Those of us who are mere lovers of the Lovers of God may be thankful for that. Even during our bleakest moments we are required not to despair. “Do not despair of Allah’s Mercy, for Allah forgives all sins” (Q, 39: 53) – particularly so in contemporary times. While totalitarian rejectionism is not the way of Traditionalism – its defining features are measured consideration, balance and equilibrium -   yet there can be little doubt that modernity has ushered in a formidable potential for destruction, a tormented consumerist addiction along with its associated fear of materialist failure, and a trenchant capacity for decentring the sacred from the lives of individuals and communities on a scale unparalleled in history. We may colonise the moon, or we may colonise Mars, but as long as we ignore the heart we will remain enslaved to the lower self. Said the Prophet (saw):

Indeed, Allah has receptacles from amongst the people of the earth, and the receptacles of your Lord are the hearts of His righteous slaves; and the most beloved of them to Him are the most benign and gentlest ones. (at-Tabarani). [Italics mine].

He (saw) also warned: “Beware of extremism (ghuluww) in religion, for it is extremism that has destroyed those before you.” (Nas’ai, Musnad Ahmad ibn Hanbal). The ways of darkness and spiritual myopia are many. The blameworthy attributes of that subaltern existence have been lucidly listed by Imam al-Ghazali in his Ihya Ulum al-Din. Amongst them  he counts the following: tahawwur (recklessness), jumud (indifference), jawr (tyranny), hamq (foolishness), badhkh (conceit), istishata (quick to anger), takabbur (pride), ‘ujb, (vainglory), hirs (greed), waqaha (obscenity) tabdhir (extravagance), riya’ (ostentation), hasad (mailicious envy) and shamata (malice)[§]. These are amongst the attributes that have found a defiant home in many contemporary extremists today. It behoves us to note, however, that extremism in Islam is not merely to be an obnoxious fanatic, it is to declare war against destiny itself. In the domain of the Divine there is just not one single predetermined destiny; there are multiple destinies – destinies that may be altered through prayers. Said the Prophet (saw): “Nothing can deflect the course of destiny except prayers.” (at-Tirmidhi).

We need to hold onto the rope of hope (raja’) and, in deference to the Divine command, keep the bane of despair firmly interned in the trenches of bad faith. In the sacred scheme of things, however, we need to acknowledge the reality of choice: to either choose the path of liberation and enlightenment – the way of the fitra; or to choose that path imprisoned in an abyss of mindless bigotry – the way of fitna, the way of discord and self-destruction. In our acknowledgment of that reality though, and along with an acknowledgement of the efforts of those who are striving to protect a heritage of a purposive and all-embracing spiritual grace, we should also never forget the power of prayer.

The magnitude of the event determines the magnitude of the occasion; likewise, the ascribed blessings of the event determines the ascribed blessings of the occasion.

Moreover, the stronger the identity, and the greater the impressions made by the events on people, the stronger and greater will they identify with the time during which the events occurred.

From this point of view it will become evident that the essential purpose of this book, Madha fi Sh’aban (What is in Sha’ban?), is to focus on the links that connect the ummah (the global Muslim community) to their history with the aim of deepening their perceptions and religious experience of Deen-related events and occurrences.

While it is true that some differ with regard to the method and manner of presenting these events to people, namely, that they are not in agreement with respect to their arrangement and organization; there can nonetheless be little doubt that even two people – on their own – would not differ with regard to the aims and objectives of organizing and commemorating these events.

This is so for the reason that whenever we set out to strengthen these connections that bind the ummah to its history by utilizing the events and occurrences through and by which these moments become exalted; then we are at once inviting them to a reality that is pure, a belief system that is correct, a path that is straight and a way that is natural. This indeed constitutes, at once, the essence of our history and our ennoblement as a people. From this foundation we are able to proceed to all that is good, righteous and beneficial.

The commemoration of all these events and exalted moments are – through the permission of Allah – acceptable and legitimate; for it is through this fundamental principle, viz. the undeniable interconnectedness of the event and the moment that we are able to take advantage of these opportunities that have the force to stimulate our minds into a recollection of these momentous events. In this way the mind, the heart, and the emotions return to the distant past with a sense of yearning for our history – a yearning that enables us to examine that past for the lessons it may provide. This is what constitutes the genuinely “informed lesson” (al-dars al-‘ilmi); and it is this that the universities with their lecturers and lectures, and the madrassahs with their programmes and prescribed works cannot transfer to people in a way that would allow them to live, perceive and experience this history in a holistic manner – with their hearts, minds and emotions.

Indeed, whenever, we celebrate by commemorating the birth of the Prophet (pbuh) or the Hijrah (his flight from Makkah to Madinah), or the Isra and Mi’raj (the Night Journey and Ascension of the Prophet) or the month of Sha’ban, then we invite people to connect with their minds, hearts and emotions to the realities and the events that fill the vast spaces of these moments. However, these commemorations are not meant to venerate the event as such or to deify it; nor are they commemorated in a manner that expresses an article of our faith. On the contrary, these commemorations are designed to express our ultimate veneration of Allah, the Exalted, who is the ultimate Creator of both space and time. These commemorations, therefore, essentially represent the veneration of a slave to his/her Lord, the Creator. But, at the same time, they are also designed to celebrate and laud the one who has played a seminal role in these events – the one who at once formed an intrinsic part of, and for whom these events were established; and who, moreover, forms the axis around which these events are all connected. This latter veneration is the veneration of the one who loves for the sake of the beloved…for that possessor of grace whom Allah has chosen to be at the centre of these events.

I am astonished at those petrified and fossilized minds, those minds of stone, that ignore the central figure of these events – the figure through whom, for whom, with whom and from whom these events emerged in the first place; and then proceed to focus on the event in so far as it is merely an event. This perspective, without a doubt, constitutes the essence of bid’ah (a reprehensible innovation). Indeed, and even beyond that, it signifies the epitome of ignorance and short-sightedness.

We do not venerate or exalt time for time’s sake, nor space by virtue of it being space, for this is in fact, and in our estimation, an act of shirk (idolatry).

On the contrary, our focus is upon that which is beyond, greater and more exalted than mere time or space. Nor do we venerate particular personages for what they possess of body and bones. What we in fact do is to look at their station, their standing, their rank and their love and belovedness…so is there any sin or falsehood in this? [Italics mine].

“Glory to Allah, this is indeed a serious slander!” (Qur’an, 24: 16).

Al-Maliki, Sayyid Muhammad ‘Alawi, n.d. Madha fi Sh’a ban? (What is in Sha’ban?). Silsilatu Idah Mafahim al-Sunnat al-Nabiwiyyah (5). pp. 4-6.

Translated by: Shaykh Seraj Hendricks.

There is the sweet  taste of love.

Beyond the taste of love there is exile.

All that is satanic desires estrangement, desires separation.

Segmented verses that float and flow

Through the weft and warp

of our imaginal worlds –

worlds darkly contoured in fire and flame,

and we suck at their seams to spew our own -

A rush to die and dream

Our dreams of Promethean holiness;

But God’s exile was ordained

long before the forgetfulness of the forbidden fruit;

long before the fire of the ego proclaimed its superiority over clay;

Long before one imagined world

proclaimed its superiority over another inspired;

Long before Prometheus stole the fire of the gods.

And so Adam prayed for the presence of Eve…

And Eve prayed for the presence of Adam…

A prayer that yearned for Union

United in the singularity of a single essence.

And the prayer became presence.

Upon a mount called Mercy

Upon a plain of wisdom sanctified,

the womb of All was honoured

So that All might come to know one another

In a symphony of harmony and grace;

A symphony that celebrated the sacred origins of all things;

A symphony that celebrated Allah…

the common origin of All

While the Devil may be seen to personify darkness pluralised; or while he may even be seen to be the details, he is yet not in the details. He is in those vast spaces seeking out those so sure of themselves, so sure of their incorrigible bigotry – men and women alike – that even Santa Claus would stand envious of his facility in handing out infinite gifts of hatred, division, rancour, animosity, enmity, revulsion and aversion, all in gilt-wrapped boxes that would make Pandora scream with envy. In the Promethean scheme of things Pandora had a point; but you don’t set out to destroy evil with evil.

But beyond those vast and dark plains of burning corpses there is always the hope of life…the hope of love – a life and a love that shine with the radiant unicity of Light. I dedicate this as a prayer to the fitra of existence, to that which IS, to that which is so endearingly Pure and incorruptible.

(This “sharh” is a response in agreement with an article about women’s inclusion in sacred spaces.)

In this respect I am reminded of Hujjata l-Islam (The Proof of Islam) Imam Abu Hamid al-Ghazali’s (d.505AH) five-fold barriers that stand between the individual and his/her potential to connect with divine Reality. In summarized form he mentions the following barriers (or veils) in the Ihya Ulum al-Din (The Revival of Religious  Knowledge):

1) The imperfections (nuqsan) of the child who is yet incapable of comprehending divine Realities because of the imperfections within his/her heart.

2) The accumulation of acts of disobedience which smother the heart and prevent it from attaining the necessary purification and enlightenment. The vision of Reality diminishes in proportion to and as a function of the darkness that engulfs it.

3) That the heart of the individual may be turned away from the Reality that is sought despite the piety and good intentions of that individual. In this case he may be preoccupied with perfecting the outer physical expressions of worship and unduly occupied with his/her pursuit and concern for procuring the means of livelihood. He/she may may be distracted by an excessive concern for the attainment of such livelihood and therefore disbar themselves from freely contemplating and exposing themselves to the manifestations of the Real.

4) The hijab (or the veil). The pious and obedient one who devotes him/herself to acts of devotion may not benefit from these acts because of an uncritical acceptance of what they have learnt in the past during their childhood and accepted all of that with best of intentions. These beliefs act as so many veils between him/herself and later act as one of the greatest veils between the believer and the doctrines he/she have been taught to accept in a blind fashion. This condition of myopia has come to dominate most Muslim theologians (mutakallimin) and those who blindly adhere to certain legal schools of thought.

5) The fifth reason for ignorance is that the seeker of truth is unaware of the direction in which he/she has to proceed. They have not mastered the necessary tools of knowledge and critical thinking and are therefore unable to arrive at conclusions that are logically coherent. This ability for logical coherence and thinking is important because it empowers the seeker with the necessary processes of deduction that might well lead to that which is sought and consequently reveal to the heart the desired objective. (Al-Ghazali [Vol. 3], 2005: pp. 922-3)

In tandem with this Gazalian approach let us turn to Sayyid Muhammad and allow him to speak through his work entitled Muhammad: al-Insan al-Kamil (Muhammad: The Perfect One). Here he states:

“Amongst the principles of perfection underlying and informing the Shariah are its inherent flexibility and its negation of rigidity in the imposition of opinions or schools of thought, particularly with regard to those opinions that have been the result of ijthad  and research. This is so for the reason that most of the texts of the Shariah (the Quran and Hadith) lend themselves to manifold interpretations in such a manner that it is difficult to give absolute precedence to one opinion over another. Furthermore, the very manner in which one tries to assign precedence of meaning to one interpretation over another, in itself constitutes a process of ijthad, speculation and research. In a similar vein, through this very process of research, speculation, and revision an opinion that appeared weak at one point in time could quite conceivably become the stronger at another – especially so when we consider the exigencies and demands peculiar to any particular historical moment. In any case, the Shariah does not impose upon us the acceptance of any specific opinion held by a particular Imam or scholar, regardless of differences in time or circumstances.” (Al-Maliki, 1990: 308).

Elsewhere he states:

“Furthermore, the distinguished scholars of the Companions, the Successors, and those who immediately followed them, shunned any notion that would declare their opinions based – as it were – on ijtihad, as being tantamount to either a hukm (ruling) or shara’ (decree) of Allah. On the contrary, the greatest of them in stature and the most schooled in knowledge would instead say: ‘These are my opinions derived from the limitations of my knowledge and ijtihad. If they are correct, then they are from Allah. If they are wrong then they emanate from me and Satan.” (al-Maliki, 1990: 310).

A favourite hadith of his in this regard is contained in his observation that

“Amongst the advice he (saw) gave to the leaders of the Muslim armies was to say to them: ‘If you succeed in conquering a people and wish to apply an Islamic ruling upon them, then do not say to them that your ruling is the ruling of Allah. Rather, apply your own rulings upon them, for you do not know whether your opinion coincides with the Divine Will or not.’” [Bukhari and Muslim]. (al-Maliki, 1990: 310).

Finally, he was extremely faithful to the position of Imam Malik (ra) himself – of which Sayyid Muhammad was one of the most outstanding representatives. He relates that the

“position of Imam Malik (viz. his opposition to imposing a single school of thought upon an entire state) is undeniable in that he had refused to allow Harun ar-Rashid to impose the Muwatta upon all of the Muslims. This, despite the extraordinary care he took in compiling the Muwatta, and the general acceptance of the Muwatta by the scholars of his time. Imam Malik justified his rejection of this imposition by contending that the Companions of the Prophet (saw) had dispersed through many lands and that the possibility existed that they were in possession of certain ahadith of the Prophet (saw) that he was not aware of; and, that had he himself seen those ahadith then he might well have revised his own views…”  (al-Maliki, 1990: 309).

In conclusion, and to provide a context for his statements above, it is important to note here that he was not anti-madhab. On the contrary he supported the standard schools of thought. But, like the great Hujjat al-Islam Imam al-Ghazali (ra), was opposed to the blind, rigid, sectarian and authoritarian imposition of any specific opinion or school of thought.

It would be impossible to recollect, in its entirety, the  biography of Sayyid Muhammad in a few paragraphs. The immensity of his life and its far-reaching impact are like the ripples which form when a stone is dropped on still water, ever-expanding and perpetually resonating.

Sayyid Muhammad was a descendant of the Prophet Muhammad (saw) through Imam Hasan (ra). He was a scholar from the Hijaz, of Tafseer, Hadith, Fiqh,`Aqeedah, and Seerah. He was a most highly acclaimed and respected scholar in Makkah, born to a family of traditional Maliki scholars of ancestral residence in the Holy City. He was educated by his eminent father from childhood and was authorised to teach every book he studied with him. He also learnt at the feet of prominent scholars of Makkah such as Shaykh Say-yid Ameen Kutbi, Shaykh Hassan Masshat, Shaykh Muhammad Nur Sayf, Shaykh Saeed Yamani and many others.

At the age of 25 he received his Phd from from the esteemed Al Azhar university of Egypt. His thesis – on Hadith – was rated excellent and highly praised by the‘ulama there at the time such as Imam Abu Zahra. During his never-ending quest for knowledge he traveled extensively to North Africa, Egypt, Syria, Turkey, Yemen and the Indo-Pak sub-continent to gather Hadith, collect manuscripts, visit scholars, saints and benefit from their wisdom.

Apart from the ‘ulama of the Hijaz he had “Sanad” or “‘Ijazah” (lineage of authority to teach and guide) in the theological and spiritual sciences from eminent savants all over the Islamic world. The great Da’ee and Imam of Yemen, Imam Habib Ahmad Mashur al-Haddad , Shaykh Hasnayn Makhluf the great Mufti of Egypt, Shaykh al Ghimari of Morrocco , Shaykh Diauddin Qadiri of Madinah and numerous others have given him their ‘ijazah.

In 1970 he was appointed professor of Islamic studies at the Umm-ul-Qurra university in Makkah. In 1971, after his father’s death, the scholars of Makkah asked him to accept his father’s position as a teacher in the Holy Mosque, which he did. Hundreds of students have learnt at his feet and have become savants of Islamic knowledge and spirituality in their countries, and consist of some of the worlds renowned scholars today. He also gave classes at his home and mosque in Makkah, where Shaykh Seraj spent many years studying at his feet, receiving ‘ijazah from him. He visited South Africa many times – having inherited a spiritual community in the heart of Cape Town, now represented by the al-Zawiyah mosque, in Walmer Estate. His last visit was shortly before his death, in 2004. 

Sayyid Muhammad spoke out vociferously against all forms of extremism, and was continuously under threat of being banned. The Sayyid followed and advocated the mainstream majority tradition of Islam, the hallmark of which is tolerance, moderation and unity in diversity. He was a proponent of Shar’iah based Sufism, of which he himself was a great spiritual master, linked to many spiritual orders, particularly the Ba’Alawi Tariqa. Sayyid Muhammad authored close to 100 works, of which his views are exemplified in his most famous work Mafahim Yajib an Tusahhah (Concepts that Should be Rectified), which has been translated into English.

Shaykh Seraj, on receiving the news of Sayyid Muhammad’s passing, during the month of Ramadan, overcome by the great loss of his beloved teacher, spiritual guide and intellectual mentor – whom he often refers to as the “Nelson Mandela” of the Muslim world –  was devastated, and still feels today, the magnanimity of his absence. One of his students wrote on the day of Sayyid Muhammad’s funeral, ”Makkah is crying for him, Arabia is crying for him, the entire Islamic world is crying for him, may Allah grant him the highest Jannah next to his beloved grandfather, Sayyidina Rasulullah (saw)”.

It is the hope of Shaykh Seraj that this page resonates an echo of his immense Love and deep esteem for Sayyid Muhammad (ra), through making known to the English-speaking world, some of his Precious Extracts.

To pardon and forgive others for the wrongs done against one is one of the greatest acts of grace any human being is capable of. And why should it not be so? Forgiveness is something we constantly seek from Allah. But it certainly makes little sense if we seek that forgiveness while we, ourselves, refuse to be the well-springs of such forgiveness for our fellow human beings. As Muslims we are often aware and seemingly conscious of observing the laws of Islam. It behoves us equally, if indeed not more so, to embrace its spirit. Laws are there to regulate the affairs of society, not necessarily to create unity. Unity, or oneness of spirit, can only be realised within the spiritual and ethical framework of Islam. Not anywhere else. Those with bad manners – regardless of how erudite they might be or claim to be – are repulsive people. “Manners maketh the man” is a timeless truth.

While the law is also there to requite injustices – and necessarily so on occasion – it would do us well to know that in general, and on the whole, justice in Islam ought always to be tempered by mercy, compassion, and forgiveness.  So it is that it becomes us to learn to listen to the Qur’an, rather than taking mere pride in reciting it. Perhaps, then, we might understand those verses that challenge the very core of our moral being – the very core of our spirituality. One such verse is the following:

O you who believe, be steadfast in your service to God; and be witnesses to equity and justice. Let not the hatred of others cause you to swerve form justice. Be just! For that is closer to God-consciousness. (Qur’an, 5: 8).

Developing a capacity for forgiveness and the ability to overlook the faults of others can go a long way in refining, not only one’s own manners, but also the quality of the relations we share with others. This capacity, naturally, presupposes that we enjoy the insight and awareness of our own limitations and faults; and this is another journey tasawwuf is designed to make possible for us – the journey towards self-realisation.

A forgiving nature is, in all likelihood, a self-realised nature. It is a “nature” too, that would be blessed by the highest reward – nearness (qurbah) to Allah.

Let us look at a moment of forgiveness – the following story in the al-Mustadrak ‘ala l-sahihayn by al-Hakim al-Nïsaburi, is a most instructive one:

God’s Messenger, upon him be peace, said: “I smile because of two men from my nation, who shall kneel in the presence of the Lord of Power – one an oppressed, the other his oppressor.”

The wronged one will say: “O my Lord, requite me for the injustice my brother did to me.”

And God will say: “Return to your brother that in which he was wronged.”

“O Lord,” he will say, “none of my righteous deeds remain.”

Then God the Exalted will say to the one who was wronged: “Now that none of his righteous deeds remains what shall you do with your brother?”

He will reply: “O my Lord! Transfer some of my burdens to him instead!”

Then God’s Messenger wept as he said: “Indeed, that shall be a dreadful Day, a Day when some will have need of others to bear their burdens.”

Then he (saw) said: “God shall say to the wronged one: ‘Lift up your head, and look to the Gardens.’”

He will look and exclaim: “O my Lord! I see lofty cities of silver, and golden palaces decorated with pearls. For which Prophet, for which truthful one, for which martyr has that been reserved?”

And He will say: “They belong to whomsoever can pay the price.”

“‘O my Lord,” he will ask, “And who is by the means to pay that price?”

“‘You possess it,” He will reply.

“And what might it be?’ he will ask.

And He will say: “Your forgiving and pardoning of your brother.”

“O my Lord!’ he will say, “I have forgiven him!”

Then God, the Exalted, will says: “Take your brother’s hand and lead him into Paradise.”

Then God’s Messenger recited His word: “Fear God, and encourage reconciliation among yourselves.” (Qur’an 8:1)

May Allah grant us the courage to forgive those who have wronged us, and to overlook the faults in others inasmuch as we too, desire to have our own faults overlooked. Rectification there must be – but let that rectification be in a spirit of forgiveness, rather than a spirit of revenge. Hatred, rancour, belligerence and malice towards the “other” are alien to that noble spirit of forgiveness enshrined and deeply embedded in the spirit of Islam.

And Allah knows best.