For the love of God

In the final part of her Ramadan series on Sufism, Fayza Hassan discovers that music can be the food of devotion
How wonderfully beautiful is the light of God!
How wonderfully beautiful is the love of God!
How wonderfully beautiful, oh Messenger of God!
Raise the crescent, oh men of God!
The love of Husayn and al-Sayyida [Zaynab],
love for them both is all contentment,
my heart and spirit belong to Husayn,
and all my love is for Sayyida.
O Pure One [Zaynab] your light goes
from [the shrine of] Husayn to [the shrine of] al-Sayyida...
(song of love for Ahl Al-Bayt, sung mainly in Shadhili circles)
FAMILY AND FRIENDS: The devotion of Sufis to Ahl Al-Bayt (the Prophet's family) has been one of the main topics of controversy among Muslim scholars. "It appears to many," writes Valerie Hoffman in Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt (University of South Carolina Press, 1995), "as a substitute to observance of Islamic religious requirements and because this devotion is expressed in practices that are often deemed heretical: the visitation of tombs, prayers to holy personages rather than to God, and the celebration of mulids."
"But," comments Mahmoud Makhlouf, a member of the Naqshbandi Sufi order, "this love is only natural and should not have caused all the controversy that has surrounded it over the ages: The Prophet Mohamed is the messenger of God and is venerated as such, together with the members of his family, to whom he extended his love. Simply, if we love someone very much, our love extends (or should extend) equally to his nearest and dearest. The only difference is that with the Prophet this love is much more exalted." According to Hoffman, however, some modern Sunni Muslims hold the view that "although the descendants of the Prophet should be honoured as such, they have no particular distinction beyond their piety and their noble descent."
Many Sufi authors feel compelled to defend their devotion to Ahl Al-Bayt, which they often do in verse:
Let me glorify the family of Muhammad,
for they are my light and the source of my devotion
They are my most exalted support, theirs is the lofty assistance
they are the power of piety and the sun of my destination.
Leave me the love of Husayn and his grandfather,
from their exalted station I witness all spiritual realities.
Do you reproach me for love, although love is grace;
if the longing heart tastes it, it will not wander...
I am not removed from their love because I know my Lord
through them, for they are the source of my acquaintance with him..."
(Sheikh Abdel-Salam Al-Hilwani, in Sufis, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt)
MOVED BY THE MUSIC: Another controversial Sufi practice is the use of musical instruments and song (the sama') in worship, especially during the festivals commemorating the birth of the Prophet, the death of Sufi saints or zikr (commemoration) ceremonies:
In the lover's heart there is a lute
Which plays the melody of longing
You say he looks crazy
That's only because your ears are not tuned
to the music by which he dances.
(Jalaleddin Rumi, In the Arms of the Beloved, transl. Jonathan Star, Putnam, 1997)
Among the orders using musical instruments and dancing were the Mawlawiya (the order founded around the veneration of Jalaleddin Rumi), which originated in Konia and whose rituals were among the most exquisitely spectacular. Egyptian Sufis, on the other hand, have been of two minds regarding this practice.
The polemic is an old one, "almost as old as the history of Arab music itself," writes Kristina Nelson in her study of Qur'an recitation in Egypt, and is "clearly linked to the idea of propriety." Writing at the beginning of the 12th century, Abu Hamed Al-Ghazali placed the practice of sama' in the context of undesirable associations, "whereby the favouring of a particular object by groups regarded as being of low moral standing renders this object unsuitable for general use," according to Julian Johansen (Sufism and Islamic reform in Egypt, Oxford, 1996). According to Al-Ghazali, the narrow-waisted drum that was preferred, it is said, by effeminate musicians should be discarded, not because of the instrument itself -- drumming was in no way objectionable -- but because it created in the public's mind an unfortunate association with its players. Finally outlawed by Abdel-Baqi El-Bakri in the 1880s, Sufis bemoaned the disappearance of drums from the orders' processions, likening their use to the drumming of pilgrims and soldiers and endowing the instrument with a strong symbolic meaning. "For those on the pilgrimage to Mecca, which for the Sufis mirrors the inner journey towards one's own Centre, drumming has always been used to lend courage and a sense of purpose, the better to carry the Greater Struggle... against the concupiscent soul. For soldiers fighting to repel a human invader in the Lesser Struggle, drums are equally effective," writes Johansen.
Al-Ghazali himself was far less disparaging, it seems, than many modern Sufis, among them the chronicler El-Gabarti, who vividly criticised the sama' and who insisted that dance and music be forbidden in the Sufis' public prayers. So strong was modern opposition to these features of Sufi festivities that many with an advocacy of downright prohibition subsequently confused Al-Ghazali's reservations. In fact, Al-Ghazali had been far from adamant. In his Ihya' Ulum Al-Din (Revivification of Religious Knowledge), cited by Johansen, Al-Ghazali began one of his chapters by "glorifying Him who consumes the hearts of his saints in the fire of His love, refining their souls with the longing to meet and witness Him. If any disturbing, worrying, joyful, or saddening sound meets their ears, they unconsciously relate to Him all of the emotions engendered by the sounds. Thus they are increased in sadness, longing for Him, or the joy of meditating upon him. Their hearts are the containers of the inner-secrets. And there is no way to bring their hidden content other than by striking the flints of music. Balanced, pleasurable tones bring out what [the heart] contains, causing its commendable and reprehensible aspects to appear. Emotion only brings out of the heart that which it contains. Music is therefore a truthful touchstone and an eloquent yardstick of the virtue of the heart. No sooner does the breath of music reach the heart than the heart is moved by its own dominant feelings."
Al-Ghazali, however, insisted on informing his readers that established authorities such as Imam El-Shaf'i, Malik and Abu Hanifa, by their extreme caution regarding the sama', had inspired the historian, commentator and judge Al-Tabari to pronounce it illicit. But then he added: "Many of the upright ancestors, Companions and the next generation, did that [listening to music] most properly... The Hijazi with us at Mecca used to listen to music on the greatest days of the year. The people of Medina, like the Meccans, have maintained the practice to this day."
He also related that Abul-Hassan Ibn Salem was asked how he could denounce sama' since Abul-Qasem Al-Junayd of Baghdad, recognised as a leading mystic in his own lifetime (d. 910AD), Sari Al-Saqati, a famous Sufi of Baghdad (d. 867AD), and Dhul-Nun El-Misri, a famous Egyptian Sufi, had all participated in it. Ibn Salem, according to Al-Ghazali, had replied: "How could I object to sama' after it has been judged lawful by my betters? After all, Abdallah Ibn Ja'far Al-Tayyar used to listen, objecting only to heedlessness and foolery in music."
Al-Ghazali was careful to extend his approval to other musical instruments lest it might be construed that his words applied to drums only. To clarify his position, he added a proverb on the question of measured tones (al-naghamat al-mawzuna): "It should not be thought that this applies [only] to poetry. On the contrary, it is also permissible with strings. It is said that he who is not moved by spring and its blossoms or by the lute and its string is incurably rotten-minded."
IN THE PRESENCE OF PRAYER: Nowadays, the Supreme Council of the Sufi Orders, the only body qualified to permit or prohibit various practices, regulates Sufi activities in Egypt. Some orders come under more scrutiny than others for their tendency to err on the more spectacular side in their worship. The Husayniya order, for instance, although not officially recognised in Egypt, holds its hadra (literally, presence; by extension, a congregational invocation) at major mulids. The annual high point of the public celebrations takes place inside the mosque of Al-Husayn during his mulid.
Johansen attended the "legal" hadra of the Husayniya as well as the private gathering immediately following their public performance. He recounts that the members of the order, knowing that they would be on public view in one of the most important mulids of the year, "had taken great care over their appearance; they were almost all wearing white cotton galabiyas, clean and sharply pressed. Some latecomers arrived in business suits [but] produced galabiyas from their briefcases, donning them over sweaters and trousers... All were bareheaded at this stage. Shoes and bags were left with one of the blue-capped officials of the Order, who guarded them in a corner marked off by a ladder placed across the floor... Another of the naqib's [official of the order] functions is to distribute water rather than have thirsty people getting up during the hadra in order to drink. He also distributes the food or sweets that follow the hadra.... [These officials also have a regulatory role] which consists of watching for the Sheikh's commands and transmitting them to the rest of the assembly. They watch carefully for any disruptions of order caused by an overflow of enthusiasm in the individual members, restoring the status quo as quickly and quietly as possible.
"Immediately after the congregational prayer, the members took up their positions. Opposite the maqam [saint's mausoleum], they formed a huge square inside which smaller squares were formed. The large space at the centre was then filled with closely packed ranks of members, lined up parallel to the qibla wall and facing inward... Each took a small white cotton cap from the breast pocket of his galabiya, unfolded it and put it on. The front of each cap was embroidered with the Name (Allah) in red, inside a green, cup-shaped wreath. Microphones were connected to a public address system and placed in position. One of the members opened a large parcel wrapped in newspaper. Inside were hundreds of jasmine garlands which were distributed around to the assembly. The last of these were handed out to a dozen boys aged between four and ten (and a girl wearing a white galabiya with her hair tied up under the uniform cap) who were lined up under the watchful eyes of their elders. The distribution of scent and adornment was striking in such a large gathering, and recalled the Qur'anic reference to the garlands which adorn the animals designated for sacrifice at the Pilgrimage... evok[ing] the sobering message of the self-sacrifice of the Sufis...
"Without any apparent warning, the hadra was suddenly under way. A chorus of prayers for the Prophet was chanted in unison by the assembly. Some of a crowd of about two hundred onlookers outside the square joined in, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the chorus. Others mouthed the words, whilst the remainder observed the proceedings with the detached expression of the uninitiated. The members themselves were oblivious to the onlookers; they were inside the square, looking inwards while the observers were outside looking in... A microphone was handed to the murid [disciple, who] proceeded to lead the voluble chorus through prayers for the Prophet and Al-Husayn.
"Suddenly the chorus changed; the assembly was now chanting 'Allah, Allah' in rapid succession on a single note... A single loud handclap from the munshidun [leading singers] punctuated the short interval between each repetition. These were followed by the divine Names Huw (He), Hayy (Living), and Qayyum (Eternal). The repetition of each Name was gradually accelerated on a rising pitch...
"More prayers for the Prophet followed. Then the Sheikh moved into view. He wore a white galabiya, white socks and a dove grey overcoat. He was bareheaded, clean-shaven and wore sunglasses. He moved quickly and quietly around the inside of square. Occasionally he would gesture or mouth words to one of the nuqaba' who would pass this silent message to one of the munshidun seated beside the munshid with the microphone. A signal was given and changes of words, tone and volume were immediately implemented.
"The final change of sequence in the hadra involved repetitions of the Fatiha... When the final recitation was complete, an order was given to the assembly -- Fours! (Arbaat). All rose immediately and formed a closely packed column of about a hundred ranks of four, facing the maqam with hands linked. The line began to shunt forward as the front ranks led the way into the maqam itself, with the entire column chanting the Shahada (La Ilah illa Llah, Muhammad rasul Allah)... Right arms were raised outstretched toward the silver lattice-work of the maqam and the Fatiha was read in deafening chorus. In conclusion, prayers were repeated for the Prophet. The members then backed out and broke rank to greet and congratulate each other."
A PRIVATE GATHERING: Traditionally, the Husayniya order will follow any public function with a private gathering or council (majlis) to which only a few outsiders are sometimes invited. This majlis is held at the order's headquarters in Qaytbay. There are also twice-weekly ordinary meetings, which are equally private. Invited to attend, Johansen had a chance to observe this more informal type of meeting. The long, low building in which the gathering took place resembled a large carport with one end open onto the street, he narrates. Rows of chairs ran along the four walls and in the middle of the room facing each other. All the chairs were occupied by mostly older men. The younger ones sat between the rows. Everyone wore either galabiyas or suits with ties. There were several women sitting at the closed end of the building. Johansen estimated the number of attendees at 200. Tea was served to all.
The Sheikh (here Sheikh Salem El-Jazuli, who died in 1992 and was succeeded by his son at the head of the order) was seated in an armchair in front of which stood a low table. His voice was barely audible, despite the microphone in front of him. He spoke of the landmarks of patience, saying that spiritual and moral improvement can only be achieved through the patient bearing of affliction. After a while he suggested that they might "do a little zikr together," and nodded to the munshids. His signal was greeted "almost immediately by a wall of sound: drumbeats of various pitches, a lute, a flute and male voices all put through a robust sound system." After a few minutes the Sheikh signaled to the munshids and the music and voices were stilled. Some of the men had obviously been affected by the music and songs and the women were in tears. The Sheikh resumed his monologue. Later, several men and one woman stood up to read tributes in verse which they had written in the Sheikh's honour. Every now and then the proceedings would be interrupted by a plea from one of the members "O God, bless the Holy Prophet," while several men and women would whisper the traditional reply to themselves. The Sheikh would then resume his talk.
The difference between the hadra shar'iya and the more leisurely, informal majlis were striking, Johansen noted. "The hadra shar'iya and the majlis were separate occasions, each governed by different emphasis and priorities... To transport the procedures of the majlis onto the hadra shar'iya could have compromised [the members'] reputation as Orthodox Muslims. Yet the fact that the majlis was not the hadra shar'iya would not necessarily mean that the majlis was unlawful in an Islamic sense. For the members of the Husayniya, it is a question of emphasis; each gathering was a mode of celebration, part of an integrated whole." Many of the orders that attract more intellectual types of aspirant Sufis do not have public activities. Their meetings are private and, in a way, more informal. Prayers are mainly silent and the members of such orders do not care much for the publicity surrounding the noisy celebrations practiced by some others. These orders do not usually encourage their followers to attend the mulids.
THE CELEBRATION CIRCUIT: More than the sama', the mulid (celebration of the birthday of the Prophet or a saint; in Egypt, however, it is more often celebrated on the anniversary of a saint's death) seems to have provided fuel for the fires of Sufi critics. One of the most famous objectors to the practice was the early 19th-century historian El-Gabarti, who gave a scathing description of the practices he observed at the mulid of Sheikh Al-Afifi (Abdel-Wahab Al-Afifi, a prominent figure in the line of the Mohamediya Shadhiliya and of many other Egyptian orders): "They set up masses of tents, booths, kitchens, and coffee-houses. There assembles a huge world of the middle class, the elite, the lower orders of the city, peasants, and peddlers of diversion, games, dancing-girls and whores, monkey-masters and snake-charmers. They fill the empty areas and the gardens, defile the tombs, urinate and defecate, committing adultery and buggery. They dance to drums and whistles day and night. Jurists and scholars join in and are imitated by the highest of princes, the most prominent merchants, and the general public without demur. Indeed they believe that [all this] is a mean to proximity (qurba) to God and a form of worship. Were it not for this fact, the ulama would not have kept silent, and certainly would not have taken part. May God guide us all" (in Sufism and Islamic Reform in Egypt). The same suspicion of the mulid has remained common to this day, especially among intellectuals and members of the upper classes, who regard it as a form of debauchery befitting the masses.
Mulids were first celebrated by the Fatimid rulers of Egypt (969-1171), who marked the anniversaries of the Prophet, Ali, Fatima and the reigning Imam with great celebrations. "The colourful banners that we see at the mulids date from that time," explains calligrapher Ahmed Sultan. "The Fatimids came as conquerors and entered Cairo bearing their flags. The Sufi orders accompanying the soldiers had their distinct banners, and from that day on the practice has been adopted by the Egyptian Sufi orders."
The Fatimid mulids, however, took place only at court and during the day, bearing little resemblance to the all-night festivals that we witness periodically in modern times. The mulids of today are concentrated around tombs where the assumed physical presence of the saint's body is essential. This idea of presence has greatly contributed to the importance of the anniversary celebrations of Ahl Al-Bayt allegedly buried in Egypt.
The Prophet's mulid, the only one that is officially sanctioned, was sponsored by the government and attended by prominent officials in mediaeval times as it is in our era. Bonaparte was well aware of the political significance of these celebrations and was careful to observe them with the required pomp when given a chance, if only to convince the Egyptians of his good will and also to keep up the charade of his "conversion." El-Gabarti notes in his Chronicle of the French Occupation (Princeton, 1997) that: "On Tuesday they [the French] celebrated the Birthday of al-Husayn, which the Muslims had intended to abstain from this year. This happened because a certain hypocrite had engaged in intrigues among the French. It happened that a discussion had taken place about it being customary to celebrate the Birthday of al-Husayn right after that of the Prophet and Bonaparte had asked why they did not do it and this hypocrite had said 'the intention of Sheikh al-Sadat is to do it only when the Mamluks return.' Shaykh al-Sadat heard about this and started the celebrations but shortened them to a period of seven nights while formerly it was celebrated for fifteen nights..."
Since 1976, the Supreme Council of Sufi Orders has been responsible for specifying the date of each mulid. It also grants the orders permission to celebrate. The various mulids, their apparent commercialisation and the processions associated with their beginning and their end have already been described in sufficient detail. Some remain more colourful than others: Abul Haggag's mulid in Luxor is famous for its inclusion of boats, a custom said to go back to a procession from Karnak to Luxor Temple in Pharaonic times. Describing this particular procession, Hoffman notes that it also included a large number of vehicles bearing members of the various craft guilds, some of whom dressed as women and danced in an atmosphere of great hilarity.
More importantly, the mulids have generated a whole community whose livelihood depends directly on these celebrations. Merchants, vendors and performers often follow the celebration circuit (mulid season lasts approximately five months) setting up impromptu coffee shops, candy and food stalls or game booths, usually sleeping during the day and working the mulid at night. The reasons for attending are as numerous and different as the people themselves, ranging from the desire to obtain the saint's blessing, to having fun and meeting friends or new faces. For the Sufis who lead the "dervish lifestyle" of traveling from mulid to mulid, on the other hand, it means contenting themselves with a life of poverty for the sake of devotion to God and love of the saints.
Related stories:
Mystics and devotees, leaders and followers 14 - 20 December 2000
The people of the cave 7 -13 December 2000
Searching for the path 30 Nov. - 6 Dec. 2000
The blessed of the earth 25 February - 3 March 1999
A night of feasting and devotion 19 - 25 August 1999
© Copyright Al-Ahram Weekly. All rights reserved