An Anthology of Philosophy in Persia
Table of Contents
Page 1
Title Page
Contents
List of Reprinted Works
Note on Transliteration
List of Contributors
General Introduction S. H. Nasr
Introductory Analysis M.
Aminrazavi
Part I. The School of
Illumination
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1. Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī
The Philosophy of Illumination
(from Ḥikmat al-ishrāq)
2. Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad
Shahrazūrī
Excursion of Spirits and Garden
of Delights (from Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa rawḍat al-afrāḥ)
3. Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī
Pearl of the Crown (from Durrat
al-tāj)
4. Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī
Commentary on Suhrawardī’s
‘Temples of Light’ (from Sharḥ hayākil al-nūr)
Flashes of Illumination on
Praiseworthy Ethics, or, The Jalālian Ethics (from Akhlāq-i jalālī)
5. Ibn Abī Jumhūr Aḥsāʾī
The Book of the Illuminated,
Mirror of the Saviour (from Kitāb al-mujlī mirʾāt al-munjī)
6. Mullā Ṣadrā
Glosses upon the Commentary of
Suhrawardī’s Philosophy of Illumination (from Taʿliqāt ʿalā sharḥ ḥikmat
al-ishrāq)
Part II. The Revival of
Peripatetic Philosophy
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1. Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī
Commentary on Ibn Sīnā’s
Remarks and Admonitions (from Sharḥ al-ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt)
Treatise on the Division of
Existents (from Risālah andar qismat-i mawjūdāt)
2. Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī
Compositions (from Muṣannafāt)
3. Dabīrān-i Kātibī-yi
Qazwīnī
Wisdom from the Source (from
Ḥikmat al-ʿayn)
4. Athīr al-Dīn Abharī and
Amīr Ḥusayn Maybudī
Commentary upon Guidance through
Wisdom (from Sharḥ hidāyat al-ḥikmah)
5. Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī
Conception and Judgment (from
al-Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq)
Part III. Philosophical Sufism
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1. Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad
Ghazzālī
The Niche of Lights (from
Mishkāt al-anwār)
The Wisdom from God (from
al-Risālat al-laduniyyah)
Three Treatises on Knowledge
(from Thalāth rasāʾil fi’l-maʿrifah)
2. Aḥmad Ghazzālī
Auspices of Divine Lovers (from
Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq)
3. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī
Dispositions (from Tamhīdāt)
The Letters (from Nāma-hā)
4. Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī
The Texts (from al-Nuṣūṣ)
5. Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī
The Sum of Secrets and the
Source of Lights(from Jāmiʿ al-asrār wa manbaʿ al-anwār)
6. Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī
Establishing the Principles
(from Tamhīd al-qawāʿid)
7. Maḥmūd Shabistarī and
Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Lāhījī
Commentary on the Secret Garden
of Divine Mystery (from Sharḥ gulshan-i rāz)
8. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī
The Precious Pearl (from
al-Durrah al-fākhirah)
Select Bibliography
Index
eCopyright
An Anthology of Philosophy in Persia
Previously
published volumes of An Anthology of Philosophy in
Persia:
Volume 1: From Zoroaster to ʿUmar Khayyām
Volume 2: Ismaili Thought in the Classical Age
Volume 3: Philosophical Theology in the Middle
Ages and Beyond
The Institute of Ismaili
Studies
The Institute of Ismaili Studies was
established in 1977 with the object of promoting scholarship and learning on
Islam, in the historical as well as contemporary contexts, and a better
understanding of its relationship with other societies and faiths.
The Institute’s programmes
encourage a perspective which is not confined to the theological and religious
heritage of Islam, but seeks to explore the relationship of religious ideas to
broader dimensions of society and culture. The programmes thus encourage an
interdisciplinary approach to the materials of Islamic history and thought.
Particular attention is also given to issues of modernity that arise as Muslims
seek to relate their heritage to the contemporary situation.
Within the Islamic
tradition, the Institute’s programmes promote research on those areas which
have, to date, received relatively little attention from scholars. These
include the intellectual and literary expressions of Shi‘ism in general, and
Ismailism in particular.
In the context of Islamic
societies, the Institute’s programmes are informed by the full range and
diversity of cultures in which Islam is practised today, from the Middle East,
South and Central Asia, and Africa to the industrialized societies of the West,
thus taking into consideration the variety of contexts which shape the ideals,
beliefs and practices of the faith.
These objectives are
realized through concrete programmes and activities organized and implemented
by various departments of the Institute. The Institute also collaborates periodically,
on a programme-specific basis, with other institutions of learning in the
United Kingdom and abroad.
The Institute’s academic
publications fall into a number of interrelated categories:
1.Occasional papers or essays addressing broad
themes of the relationship between religion and society, with special reference
to Islam.
2.Monographs
exploring specific aspects of Islamic faith and culture, or the contributions
of individual Muslim thinkers or writers.
3.Editions
or translations of significant primary or secondary texts.
4.Translations
of poetic or literary texts which illustrate the rich heritage of spiritual,
devotional and symbolic expressions in Muslim history.
5.Works
on Ismaili history and thought, and the relationship of the Ismailis to other
traditions, communities and schools of thought in Islam.
6.Proceedings
of conferences and seminars sponsored by the Institute.
7.Bibliographical
works and catalogues which document manuscripts, printed texts and other source
materials.
This book falls into category two listed
above.
In facilitating these and other
publications, the Institute’s sole aim is to encourage original research and
analysis of relevant issues. While every effort is made to ensure that the
publications are of a high academic standard, there is naturally bound to be a
diversity of views, ideas and interpretations. As such, the opinions expressed
in these publications must be understood as belonging to their authors alone.
First, I wonder about thought,
what is it that is called
thinking?
Thinking is going from the false towards the
true,
seeing in the particular the
absolute universal.
This is a long and arduous path, let it go,
and like Moses, cast away in
an instant thy staff.
Hail, many a fool there is who seeks the
shining sun
with the light of a candle
in the middle of the desert.
Maḥmūd Shabistarī
List
of Reprinted Works
Note
on Transliteration
List of Contributors
General Introduction S. H. Nasr
Introductory Analysis M.
Aminrazavi
PART I. THE SCHOOL OF ILLUMINATION
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1.Shihāb
al-Dīn Suhrawardī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
The Philosophy of Illumination
(from Ḥikmat al-ishrāq)
2.Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Excursion of Spirits and
Garden of Delights (from Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa
rawḍat al-afrāḥ)
3.Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Pearl of the Crown (from Durrat al-tāj)
4.Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Commentary on
Suhrawardī’s ‘Temples of Light’ (from Sharḥ
hayākil al-nūr)
Flashes of Illumination on
Praiseworthy Ethics, or, The Jalālian Ethics (from Akhlāq-i
jalālī)
Introduction S. H. Nasr
The Book of the
Illuminated, Mirror of the Saviour (from Kitāb al-mujlī mirʾāt
al-munjī)
6.Mullā Ṣadrā
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Glosses upon the Commentary
of Suhrawardī’s Philosophy of Illumination (from Taʿliqāt ʿalā
sharḥ ḥikmat al-ishrāq)
PART II. THE REVIVAL OF PERIPATETIC PHILOSOPHY
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1.Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Commentary on Ibn
Sīnā’s Remarks and Admonitions (from Sharḥ
al-ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt)
Treatise on the Division
of Existents (from Risālah andar qismat-i mawjūdāt)
2.Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Compositions (from Muṣannafāt)
3.Dabīrān-i
Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Wisdom from the Source (from
Ḥikmat al-ʿayn)
4.Athīr
al-Dīn Abharī and Amīr Ḥusayn Maybudī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Commentary upon
Guidance through Wisdom (from Sharḥ
hidāyat al-ḥikmah)
5.Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Conception and Judgment
(from al-Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq)
PART III. PHILOSOPHICAL SUFISM
Introduction S. H. Nasr
1.Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
The Niche of Lights (from Mishkāt al-anwār)
The Wisdom from God (from
al-Risālat al-laduniyyah)
Three Treatises on Knowledge
(from Thalāth rasāʾil fi’l-maʿrifah)
2.Aḥmad Ghazzālī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Auspices of Divine Lovers
(from Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq)
3.ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
Dispositions (from Tamhīdāt)
The Letters (from Nāma-hā)
4.Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
The Texts (from al-Nuṣūṣ)
5.Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
The Sum of Secrets and the
Source of Lights (from Jāmiʿ al-asrār wa manbaʿ
al-anwār)
6.Ibn
Turkah Iṣfahānī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Establishing the
Principles (from Tamhīd al-qawāʿid)
7.Maḥmūd Shabistarī and Shams
al-Dīn Muḥammad Lāhījī
Introduction S. H. Nasr
Commentary on the
Secret Garden of Divine Mystery (from Sharḥ
gulshan-i rāz)
8.ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī
Introduction M. Aminrazavi
The Precious Pearl (from al-Durrah al-fākhirah)
Select Bibliography
Ghazzālī, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad. Mishkāt al-anwār,
tr. David Buchman as The Niche of Lights. Provo, UT,
1998.
Ghazzālī,
Abū Ḥāmid
Muḥammad.
‘al-Risālat al-laduniyyah’, tr. Margaret Smith, in JRAS
(1938).
Jāmī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān. al-Durrah
al-fākhirah, tr. Nicholar Heer, together with glosses and the commentary
of ʿAbd
al-Ghafūr Lārī, as The Precious Pearl. New York, NY,
1979.
Kāshānī, Afḍal al-Dīn (‘Bābā Afḍal’). Muṣannafāt, tr. William C. Chittick
in The Heart of Islamic Philosophy: The Quest for
Self-Knowledge in the Teachings of Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī. Oxford and New York, 2001.
Suhrawardī,
Shihāb al-Dīn. Ḥikmat al-ishrāq, tr.
John Walbridge and Hossein Ziai as The Philosophy of
Illumination. Provo, UT, 1999.
Ṭūsī, Naṣīr al-Dīn. Risālah andar
qismat-i mawjūdāt, tr. Parviz Morewedge as The Metaphysics
of Ṭūsī:
On the Division of Existents. New York, NY, 1992.
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List of Contributors *
SEYYED HOSSEIN NASR received his early education in Iran and completed his studies at The
Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University from which he
received his doctorate. Nasr is the author of over five hundred articles and
fifty books. He has taught at a number of universities, both in the Middle
East, especially Tehran University, and in the United States; and he has
lectured widely on Islamic philosophy, science and Sufism. Nasr is currently
the University Professor of Islamic Studies at The George Washington
University.
MEHDI AMINRAZAVI received his early education in Iran and completed his master’s degree
in philosophy at the University of Washington and his doctorate in philosophy
of religion at Temple University. He is the author and editor of numerous
articles and books including Suhrawardī and the School of
Illumination; Philosophy, Religion and the Question of Intolerance; The Wine of
Wisdom: Life, Poetry and Philosophy of Omar Khayyām. He is currently
Professor of Philosophy and Religion, Director of the Middle Eastern Studies
program and Co-Director of the Leidecker Center for Asian Studies at the
University of Mary Washington.
MOHAMMAD REZA JOZI is a scholar of Islamic mysticism and philosophy. He has previously
taught courses on Islamic philosophy and philosophy of art at Tehran University
and the Free University of Iran and is currently affiliated to The Institute of
Ismaili Studies.
WILLIAM CHITTICK completed his undergraduate degree at the College of Wooster in Ohio
and his Ph.D. at Tehran University. He specializes in Islamic intellectual
history, especially the philosophical and mystical theology of the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries as reflected in Arabic and Persian texts. He is Professor
of Religious Studies at the State University of New York at Stony Brook and has
also taught at Aryamehr University and Beijing University. His numerous
publications include The Self-Disclosure of God; Principles
of Ibn ʿArabī’s Cosmology; Faith and Practice in Islam; and The Sufi Path of Love: The Teachings of Rūmī.
CARL W. ERNST studied comparative religion at Stanford University and Harvard
University. He is a specialist in Islamic studies, with a focus on West and
South Asia. Among his publications are Following Muhammad:
Rethinking Islam in the Contemporary World; Teachings of Sufism; Eternal Garden: Mysticism, History, and Politics at a South Asian
Sufi Center; and Words of Ecstasy in Sufism.
He is currently William R. Kenan Jr. Distinguished Professor of Religious
Studies in the Department of Religious Studies at The University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill.
MOHAMMAD H. FAGHFOORY completed his graduate work at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He
has taught at Tehran University, University of Mary Washington and The George
Washington University. A specialist on Islamic intellectual history, he has
published extensively on Sufism. Among his major works are Dastūr
al-mulūk and Kernel of the Kernel. He is
currently teaching in the Department of Religious Studies at The George
Washington University.
MAJID FAKHRY studied Islamic philosophy at the American University of Beirut and
the University of Edinburgh. He is the author of numerous articles and books,
including History of Islamic Philosophy. He is
currently Emeritus Professor of Philosophy from the American University of
Beirut and a research scholar at Georgetown University.
ALMA giese completed her degrees in Islamic studies at Freiburg and Giessen
Universities. She has published several works on Islamic philosophy and
theology, and is an independent research scholar.
NICHOLAS HEER received his B.A. from Yale University and his Ph.D. from Princeton
University. He has taught at Stanford University, Yale University and Harvard
University. From 1965 until his retirement he was Professor of Arabic at the
University of Washington. His publications include an Arabic edition of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Jāmī’s al-Durrah al-fākhirah, and an English translation of the
same work published under the title The Precious Pearl.
IBRAHIM KALIN studied in Turkey and Malaysia and received his Ph.D. from The George
Washington University. His areas of specialization are Islamic philosophy and
theology, Sufism, Islam and the West, and Islam in the modern world. Author of
many books and articles including Knowledge in Later Islamic
Philosophy, he is associate editor of Resources on Islam and Science, a
web-based project of the Center for Islam and Science. Formerly a professor in
the Department of Religious Studies at Holy Cross College and Georgetown
University, he is now Senior Advisor to the Prime Minister of Turkey.
JOSEPH LUMBARD studied at The George Washington University and completed his graduate
work at Yale University. His areas of specialization are Sufism, philosophical
Sufism and Islamic intellectual thought with a focus on the brothers Aḥmad and Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī. He is currently
Assistant Professor of Islamic Studies at Brandeis University.
LATIMAH-PARVIN PEERWANI was educated at the American University of Beirut and Tehran
University and has taught at The Institute of Ismaili Studies in London and at
the Pontifical Institute of Islamic Studies in Rome. Her main areas of research
and publications are Shiʿi and Ismaili philosophy and Sufism.
OMID SAFI completed his undergraduate and graduate work at Duke University. His
areas of specialization and interest are Islamic mysticism, contemporary
Islamic thought, Islamic mysticism and mystical poetry. Among his publications
are Progressive Muslims: On Justice, Gender, and Pluralism
and Islam and the Politics of Knowledge: Political Loyalty
and Religious Orthodoxy in Pre-modern Islam. The author of numerous
articles and recipient of many awards, he is currently Assistant Professor of
Philosophy and Religion at The University of North Carolina.
*Contributors mentioned here are the editors and those who have translated
new material for this volume. The names of those whose translations have
already appeared elsewhere and of which we have made use appears in the List of
Reprinted Works.
This fourth volume of An
Anthology of Philosophy in Persia deals with one of the richest, most
complex and yet least-known periods of philosophical life in Persia. It
encompasses the period between the seventh/thirteenth century which saw the
eclipse of the School of Khurāsān, and the tenth/sixteenth century coinciding
with the rise of the Safavids. It is a period whose extensive philosophical
activity proves false the still widely-held view that Islamic philosophy came
to an end with Ibn Rushd. Since our treatment of the subject of philosophy in
all the volumes of this Anthology has been according
to schools as well as chronological periods, in the present volume we have
sought to keep to this method, but with two major exceptions in our dealing
with philosophy in Persia from the seventh/ thirteenth to the tenth/sixteenth
century. The first is that the ishrāqī tradition in
this volume is treated in its wholeness as a continuous one stretching into the
Qājār period. The second is that because of the already extensive nature of
this volume, the School of Shiraz, which flowered during the period treated in
this work, will be included in volume five rather than here, except for those
of its figures who are central to the history of the School of Illumination or ishrāq, namely, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī.
Unfortunately, even this
compromise is not perfect because there are other members of the School of
Shiraz such as Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī, who also wrote important ishrāqī
works but who are treated not here but in volume five because we feel that they
were central figures of the School of Shiraz and should be dealt with there
rather than as part of the School of ishrāq where
they also belong. Also, the coming together of various schools of thought in
the period treated in this volume has made such omissions and/ or overlaps
unavoidable since a thinker often belongs to more than one school.
In any case with the coming
of the Mongol invasion the history of Islamic philosophy in Persia enters a new
chapter. With the great seats of learning in Khurāsān destroyed to a large
extent as a result of the Invasion, the centre of philosophical activity
shifts for several decades from the middle to the end of the seventh/thirteenth
century to western Persia to the extent that one can speak of the School of
Azarbaijan including the circle of Marāghah succeeding the School of Khurāsān
as the centre of philosophical activity in Persia. It is here that such figures
as Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī,
Quṭb
al-Dīn Shīrāzī, Dabīrān-i Kātibī, Athīr al-Dīn Abharī and many others taught or
studied.
The origin of the School of
Azarbaijan can in fact be traced to a century earlier and the appearance of
Suhrawardī who was born and studied in the province of Azarbaijan before coming
to Isfahan. Also the recent discovery of two major collections of philosophical
treatises, the Majmūʿa-yi falsafī-yi Marāghah (The Philosophical Collection of Marāghah) and Safīna-yi
Tabrīz (The Ship of Tabriz) which were probably used as texts in the
schools of Azarbaijan wherever philosophy was taught, attest to the continued
interest in Suhrawardī in that region and also to a very active philosophical
life during the seventh/thirteenth century. Furthermore, philosophical
treatises appear in these collections by philosophers hitherto unknown. In any
case the presence of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī in Marāghah and the establishment of a major intellectual circle in
which philosophy was also taught mark a major revival of Islamic philosophy
centred in Azarbaijan. Of course that does not mean that there was no
philosophical activity elsewhere in Persia at that time as we see in the
notable figures of Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī and Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī. But the primary centre in the seventh/thirteenth century
remained Azarbaijan.
It was at the end of this
period that the main locus of philosophical activity shifted to Shiraz and its
environs and the School of Shiraz became established. The main link between
these two schools may be said to be Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī who hailed from Shiraz but who was active in Marāghah.
And the School of Shiraz itself was the major source and primary background for
the School of Isfahan and the revival of Islamic philosophy in the hands of Mīr
Dāmād and Mullā Ṣadrā.
One of the essential
characteristics of philosophical activity in Persia from the later part of the
seventh/ thirteenth onward is the coming together and synthesis of various
schools of thought that had remained completely distinct and separate in
earlier Islamic history. It is true that Fārābī and Ibn Sīnā were interested in
Sufism but they did not combine mashshāʾī philosophy and Sufism in a synthesis and a single vision of the nature
of things. The fact that mashshāʾī philosophy itself is a synthesis of Neoplatonism, Aristotelianism and
Islamic teachings is another matter and does not change the gist of our
argument here. The Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikmah (Bezels of Wisdom) attributed to Fārābī is a gnostic work but it does
not combine Peripatetic philosophy and gnosis in a new synthesis. As for Ibn
Sīnā’s Kitāb al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt (The Book of
Directives and Remarks), the last chapters deal openly with ʿirfān, but they are not integrated with the mashshāʾī teachings of the earlier chapters. If anything, Ibn Sīnā considered
his ‘Oriental philosophy’ (al-ḥikmah
al-mashriqiyyah), which we dealt with in the first
volume of this Anthology, as being the
philosophy for the ‘elite’ (khawāṣṣ), but he did not try to
synthesize it with his Peripatetic teachings in a single work. Rather, he kept
fully faithful to the general principle of the Islamic intellectual sciences of
earlier Islamic history that one should respect the integrity of each science
and school of philosophy, its methodology and rules and should avoid the ‘sin’
of ‘mixing methods of discussion’ (khalṭ
al-mabḥath). One sees
outstanding examples of this approach in such figures as Fārābī and Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī who were masters of
several sciences and intellectual perspectives and wrote major works from the
point of view of each science and perspective without seeking to combine them
into a single vision. For example, Ṭūsī wrote the major work on Twelve-Imam Shiʿi kalām, the Kitāb al- Tajrīd (The Book of Catharsis), revived Peripatetic
philosophy in his Sharḥ al-ishārāt (of Ibn Sīnā), composed major works on Ismaili philosophy discussed in
the second volume of this Anthology as well as a
beautiful treatise on Sufi ethics called Awṣāf
al-ashrāf (Characteristics of the Noble) without
mixing these various schools together. His work on Sufism does not discuss
Peripatetic philosophy; nor do his works on Ismailism deal with Twelve-Imam Shiʿi kalām,
or Ibn Sīnā.
Ṭūsī was, however, at the cusp in the arc of Islamic philosophy as far
as this issue is concerned. Although he knew ishrāqī
teachings well, and according to some scholars even taught the Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq (The Theosophy of the Orient of Light) in
Marāghah, he remained completely within the matrix of Ibn Sīnā’s thought while
commenting upon his Ishārāt. Of course Ṭūsī also commented on the
last part of the Ishārāt dealing with ʿirfān as we shall see in this Anthology, but he
did so to remain faithful to Ibn Sīnā’s text. He did not seek to create a new
synthesis as we see in the writings of Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, Ṣāʾin al-Dīn ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī or of course Mullā Ṣadrā. But there is an exception when, in his commentary in writing of
God’s knowledge of His creation, Ṭūsī accepts Suhrawardī’s rather than Ibn Sīnā’s view and places this ishrāqī view in the context of his understanding of
Avicennan philosophy. This exception gives an inkling of what was soon to
become characteristic of the philosophical scene in Persia and through the
influence of Persian philosophers in Ottoman Turkey and India, namely, an
attempt to synthesize various intellectual perspectives. Already Tusī’s
colleague and friend in Marāghah, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, who like Ṭūsī was an important scientist, had written the philosophical
encyclopedia Durrat al-tāj (Pearl of the Crown)
selections of which appear below, as a work which can be called an ishrāqī interpretation of Avicennan philosophy. Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī
combined Peripatetic philosophy and Sufism; Dawānī, Peripatetic philosophy, the
doctrine of ishrāq and kalām;
and one could go on with many other examples. In fact as we shall see in volume
five of the Anthology, the major figures of the
School of Shiraz, such as Ṣadr al-Dīn Dashtakī, his son Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī and Shams
al-Dīn Khafrī were all synthesizers of various philosophical, gnostic and
theological schools and perspectives who prepared the ground for the grand synthesis of the School of Isfahan, especially in the
‘transcendent theosophy’ (al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah) of Ṣadr al-Dīn Shīrāzī.
The schools of thought which
were very active and which are of particular importance during the period from
the seventh/thirteenth to tenth/sixteenth century are, the Peripatetic (mashshāʾī) School, the School of
ishrāq, the various forms of philosophical and doctorial
Sufism especially the School of Ibn ʿArabī, and kalām in both its Sunni and Shiʿi forms that we dealt
with in volume three of this Anthology.
Let us consider briefly the
state of each of these schools in or after the seventh/ thirteenth century. By
the seventh/ thirteenth century, the mashshāʾī School in Spain had already become more or less defunct and that in
the East was eclipsed as the result of attacks made against it by scholars of kalām with whom we have already dealt. But the school had
not died out completely in Khurāsān and was revived in a remarkable fashion by
Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī.
Henceforth it continued as a living and powerful philosophical tradition over
the centuries that followed although often interpreted in an ishrāqī manner.
The School of Illumination
or ishrāq had been founded a century earlier by
Suhrawardī who hailed from the western region of Persia although he died in
Aleppo. Because of his violent death, his followers went underground for a few
decades but his teachings came out fully in the open in the seventh/ thirteenth
century when Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī and Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī wrote very influential commentaries upon the
masterpiece of Shaykh al-Ishrāq, the Ḥikmat al-ishrāq.
Henceforth the School of ishrāq became a powerful and
widely popular philosophical perspective that attracted many major thinkers not
only in Persia, but also in India and the Ottoman world. The period of the
flowering of the School of ishrāq, is, therefore, the
seventh/thirteenth century.
Doctrinal and philosophical
Sufism also flowered fully in the seventh/ thirteenth century with Ibn ʿArabī and the
dissemination of his teachings in the East especially by his student Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī. There
is little doubt, however, that the beginning of philosophical and doctrinal
Sufism goes back a century earlier to Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī, his brother Aḥmad and ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī. And yet it
was in the seventh/thirteenth century that the appearance of the works of Ibn ʿArabī and his school
began to provide a vast and diversified source for philosophical thought. From
this period onward, on the one hand many gnostics (ʿurafāʾ) wrote works that
possessed a philosophical dimension—although falsafah
and ʿirfān have always remained distinct
disciplines—and on the other, many philosophers turned to the study of ʿirfānī or gnostic texts. In this domain the presence of the School of ishrāq also played a very important role. In any case this
period is among the richest in the development of what one can call
philosophical Sufism as well as mystical philosophy throughout many parts of
the Islamic world and especially in Persia.
As for kalām, it is necessary to repeat briefly what was discussed
more fully in volume three of our Anthology. In the
seventh/thirteenth century there appears the seminal work of Ṭūsī on Shiʿi kalām,
the Kitāb al-Tajrīd, which is itself quite
philosophical and becomes later the subject of numerous philosophical
commentaries. Also it is in the eighth/fourteenth and ninth/fifteenth centuries
that the earlier Sunni philosophical kalām of men
such as Ghazzālī reaches its peak with such figures as Jurjānī, Ījī, Dawānī and
Taftāzānī. Although a number of these figures were against falsafah,
some of their views nevertheless became the subject of philosophical discussion
as we see in many of the philosophical texts of later schools of philosophy in
Persia.
In any case to understand
the philosophical life of the period treated in this volume, one must keep in
mind that all these schools were very much alive at that time. Moreover,
various thinkers sought to combine them to create different types of synthesis
of their teachings. Some like Dawānī sought to combine Peripatetic philosophy
and kalām while being also an ishrāqī;
some like Āmulī sought to combine Shiʿi kalām with gnosis and Ibn ʿArabian doctrines in
particular; and some like Ibn Turkah sought to combine mashshāʾī,
ishrāqī and ʿirfānī teachings, preparing the ground, as did some of the figures of the
School of Shiraz, for Mullā Ṣadrā.
A point of great interest,
as far as the subject of this volume and also part of volume five dealing with
the School of Shiraz is concerned, is that during the period between the
seventh/ thirteenth century and the tenth/sixteenth century, many of the
greatest Persian philosophers, even those interested in Sufi or Illuminative
doctrines or kalām, were also notable scientists. One
need only recall the names of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, known as two of the greatest scientists of Islamic
history, but one must also remember in this context the names of Ṣadr al-Dīn and Ghiyāth
al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī and Shams al-Dīn Khafrī, whose scientific works have not
been fully studied until now, but who were nevertheless outstanding scientists.
In Persia today Khafrī is known primarily as an acute commentator upon the Tajrīd of Ṭūsī, but his commentary upon Ṭūsī’s astronomical work the Tadhkirah
(Treasury of Astronomy) is perhaps even more remarkable, revealing him to be a
major astronomer. In fact the recent discovery of him as an outstanding
astronomer by Professor George Saliba completely changes the prevailing view of
the history of Islamic science during later centuries.
One needs therefore to
mention that the period under consideration here is also of great importance
for the history of Islamic science and the interaction between theology,
metaphysics, philosophy and science in later Islamic civilization.
Unfortunately this period is also one in which the least amount of scholarly
work in both philosophy and science has been carried out. Many major works
remain in manuscript form and need to be critically edited and published. Many
others have appeared in printed form but have never been seriously analysed and
studied. For this very reason the present volume cannot be any more than a
depiction of the general contour of the peaks of the
philosophical landscape of this period. The more detailed picture of this
landscape has to await further monographic study. But even this tour of the
general characteristics of the philosophical landscape reveals remarkable
richness and diversity in the least-known period of the intellectual history of
Persia during the Islamic era.
In this volume, three major philosophical
schools, each of which we shall deal with more specifically later, are
discussed in the following order: the school of ishrāq,
the revived school of mashshāʾī philosophy and philosophical Sufism, as well as of necessity some of
their interactions. These schools are the most important of this period in the
tradition of philosophy in Persia. Furthermore, the only major arena of
philosophical activity, which was deeply influenced by all three schools, is
the School of Shiraz, which, as mentioned already, will be treated in the fifth
volume of this Anthology only for practical
considerations, seeing how extensive the present volume has become. Otherwise,
that School could have been included here where it really belongs.
The school of ishrāq began in the sixth/ twelfth century with Suhrawardī,
but as already mentioned, because of the tragic events surrounding his death,
it flowered exactly at the time when the other two schools included in this
volume began to flourish. The school of ishrāq
transformed the philosophical landscape in all of the eastern lands of the
Islamic world including not only Persia, but also Muslim India and Ottoman
Turkey. It found numerous followers from Ankara and Kaysari to Lucknow but the
centre of its flowering and later development remained in Persia, although
Suhrawardī spent the last part of his life in Syria. Although in many ways
related to Sufism, Suhrawardī himself having been initiated into Sufism as a
young man, the school of ishrāq is not simply a form
of philosophical Sufism but a distinct school of philosophy which is also a
‘theosophy’ in the original sense of this term. As shall be seen later, it has
its own distinct philosophical features and technical vocabulary and this
philosophy was both a challenge to mashshāʾī philosophy and in certain ways its complement. In any case the School
of ishrāq is definitely a new and distinct Islamic
philosophical school that has preserved its life in Persia up to the
contemporary period. It must not be confused with the School of ʿirfān or what is often called philosophical Sufism.
The flowering of ishrāq, as mentioned already, coincided almost exactly with
the revival of Islamic mashshāʾī philosophy and more particularly its Avicennan interpretation at the
hand of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī. As demonstrated fully in volume three of this Anthology,
the Ashʿarite
School of kalām set out to criticize the mashshāʾī School and such major
figures as Ghazzālī, Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī and Shahrastānī (who was also inspired
by Ismaili philosophy) caused the eclipse of Avicennan teachings in Persia in
the sixth/ twelfth and early seventh/ thirteenth centuries. During this period mashshāʾī philosophy thrived in
Andalusia and one of the foremost philosophers of that
land, Ibn Rushd or Averroes, set out to respond to Ghazzālī’s attack upon the
philosophers, especially in the latter’s Tahāfut
al-falāsifah (Incoherence of the Philosophers) by writing a rebuttal to
this work entitled Tahāfut al-tahāfut (Incoherence of
the Incoherence). In this work the specific theses of Ghazzālī were criticized
point by point but strangely this work did not exercise any notable influence
in Persia where Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī was to succeed in the task of responding to the attacks of the mutakallimūn in a different manner.
Ṭūsī achieved his goal of reviving Ibn Sīnā in several works of which
the most significant and most influential is his commentary on al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt of the latter. Here Ṭūsī followed a method
very distinct from that of Averroes. Rather than answering the attacks of the
opponents of mashshāʾī philosophy point by point, as Averroes had done, Ṭūsī chose the most
learned commentary by any figure among the earlier mutakallimūn
upon a mashshāʾī text and then set out to comment in turn upon that commentary. Among
the mutakallimūn of the earlier centuries preceding Ṭūsī perhaps none had been
as familiar with the works of Ibn Sīnā, the master of the eastern mashshāʾī School, as Fakhr
al-Dīn Rāzī. In order to criticize Ibn Sīnā, Rāzī chose Shaykh al-Raʾīs’s philosophical
masterpiece written late in his life, the Kitāb al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt. This work is very synthetic in nature and not easy to
understand fully by beginners. Rāzī commented in detail upon the whole text
line by line, clarifying the meaning of many difficult passages and then set
out to refute what Ibn Sīnā had said. His work therefore contained the key for
the understanding of the meaning of this seminal text as well as its
refutation. In a decision that must be considered ‘a stroke of genius’, Ṭūsī chose this
commentary, making use of Rāzī’s clarifications and elucidations but then
responding to Rāzī’s criticisms. The result is one of the great masterpieces of
Islamic philosophy, a text full of remarkable intellectual rigour and a clear
structure, characteristics which reflect the fact that it was written by one of
the greatest mathematicians who ever lived.
The writing of this text
along with several other important treatises on mashshāʾī philosophy in both Arabic and Persian by Ṭūsī and also his teaching of Avicennan
philosophy in Marāghah caused a major revival of this school in Persia. From
the seventh/thirteenth century onward, the teaching of this philosophy became
widespread, at least in centres in Persia where Islamic philosophy was taught
from Marāghah, Zanjān and Tabriz to Isfahan and Shiraz. Also numerous
independent mashshāʾī works began to appear in both Arabic and Persian, some like the Kitāb Hidāyat al-ḥikmah (The Book of
Guidance to Philosophy) by Athīr al-Dīn Abharī and the Ḥikmat
al-ʿayn (Wisdom from the
Source) by Dabīrān-i Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī becoming very popular texts for the
teaching of this philosophy. Other works that are also of great value such as
those of Afḍal al-Kāshānī, which mark a peak from the literary point of view as far
as philosophical Persian is concerned, did not gain as much popularity but
remain nevertheless very significant. In any case following Ṭūsī we see a rich
development of the mashshāʾī School which in some cases became combined with
other philosophical perspectives but which continued its own distinct life into
the Safavid and Qājār periods.
Finally in this volume, a
major section is devoted to philosophical or doctrinal Sufism which is associated
mostly with the name of the seventh/thirteenth-century Andalusian master Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī but which, as
already mentioned, has its origin in a certain sense somewhat earlier in the
fifth/eleventh and sixth/ twelfth centuries in the writings of the two
Ghazzālīs and also of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī. Earlier Sufism did of course deal with salvific and
unitary knowledge or gnosis (maʿrifah or ʿirfān) which lies at the
heart of Sufism as such. But the early masters spoke of this reality mostly through
allusions and rarely in a systematic manner even in such cases as Junayd,
Dhu’l-Nūn al-Miṣrī and Ḥakīm Tirmidhī who were openly devoted to gnosis. Gradually with the two
Ghazzālīs and ʿAyn al-Quḍāt the expression of Sufi teachings gained greater philosophical import
and this quality becomes much more accentuated through the School of Ibn ʿArabī which reached
Persia mostly through Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī and also a number of major poets such as Fakhr al-Dīn
ʿIrāqī
and Awḥad
al-Dīn Kirmānī. Although one of the titles of Ibn ʿArabī was ‘the Plato of his day’, his
doctorial expression of gnosis in a more explicit and synthetic form, which we
have called philosophical Sufism here, must not be confused with falsafah as this term is understood in traditional Islamic
thought and Ibn ʿArabī himself was careful to point out this distinction. However, this
School does have much philosophical significance. Not only did it produce major
literary works of gnostic and mystical significance, some of which like the Gulshan-i rāz (Secret Garden of Divine Mysteries) of Shaykh
Maḥmūd
Shabistarī and the Lawāʾiḥ (Gleams) of Jāmī, are
masterpieces of Persian literature, but it also provided a rich source for
philosophical speculation on the part of many masters of other schools during
later centuries. We cannot understand the philosophy of such major later
figures as Mullā Ṣadrā and Sabziwārī without knowledge of what we have called
philosophical Sufism in this volume. Moreover, this School is of great innate
significance philosophically even today, dealing as it does with crucial
metaphysical and cosmological questions that remain as pertinent today as in
days of old.
Because so much of the thought of the
philosophical currents and schools under consideration here is unknown to the
general public, including most Persians themselves, and because of the richness
of choice from which selections could be made, it has been difficult to prepare
this volume in such a way that it would be completely representative of all the
different currents of thought and at the same time reveal, for the first time,
the most salient features of a generally unknown philosophical landscape. We
have, therefore, sought to select works that were later influential within
intellectual circles in Persia while at the same time presenting, as much as
possible, writings of innate philosophical and literary value. Nor has our task been made any easier by the fact that many of the
major works of the period do not possess a critical edition and some have not
been printed even in lithograph form.
In any case this volume is
the first in English to present, in the form of an anthology, several centuries
of philosophical thought in Persia stretching from the seventh/thirteenth to
the tenth/sixteenth centuries, a period which has remained the least known and
studied of all eras in the history of Islamic philosophy. We hope that despite
its shortcomings the volume will shed light on some of the riches of this
period of philosophical activity in the Islamic world, which influenced nearly
all later philosophical activity in Muslim India, Ottoman Turkey as well as
Arab lands such as Syria and Iraq and in Persia itself, and also create greater
interest in a period which produced many works of metaphysical and
philosophical significance for all those concerned today with what the ancient
sages, including Pythagoras, Parmenides and Plato, considered to be real
philosophy.
S. H. Nasr
The result of several years of work on the
part of translators and editors, this volume brings together translations from
some of the major works of Persian philosophers reflecting their contributions
to the rich tradition of philosophy in Iran during the least-known period of
the history of Islamic philosophy. We have presented the intellectual
perspectives of twenty major philosophers and selections from twentyfour of
their major texts which, together with the selection included in the first
three volumes of this series, constitute a unique source for students and
scholars in the field. Suffice it to say that a great number of significant
philosophers could not be included out of concern for the length of this book.
Our hope is that younger scholars continue our project in the future by
introducing the more neglected figures among philosophers in Iran.
In his comprehensive
introduction Seyyed Hossein Nasr has outlined the context within which the
materials presented here constitute various dimensions of a single
philosophical tradition. A detailed description of the materials is included in
each chapter at the end of our biographical introductions. However, our
intention here is to present their content in a more specific way.
We have begun the volume
with Suhrawardī, the founder of the School of Illumination (ishrāq),
not only because of the inherent significance of this major figure, but also
because of the lasting effect of his Illuminationist thought on the later
Islamic philosophical tradition. In the first chapter are selections from
Suhrawardī’s most important work Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (The
Philosophy of Illumination) which is representative of his metaphysics of
illumination. In the second, we have included selections from Suhrawardī’s
commentator, Shahrazūrī and his Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa
rawḍat al-afrāḥ (Excursion of Spirits and Garden of
Delights). Here Shahrazūrī offers a history of philosophy that corresponds to
Suhrawardī’s view of that history and bears testament to the illuminationist
doctrine. Accordingly, various civilizations are discussed as conduits through
which ḥikmah, which originated from God, has
flowed over the ages.
The third and fourth chapters consist
of yet more commentaries on Suhrawardī. Quṭb al- Dīn Shīrāzī’s Durrat
al- tāj (Pearl of the Crown), presented in chapter three is concerned with the
classification of sciences. In chapter
four we have included Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī’s
commentary on Suhrawardī’s Hayākil al-nūr (Temples of
Light) which discusses such topics as causality, motion, corporeality and its
relationship to cosmology and the role of light in an ishrāqī
context. Traditional metaphysical problems and Suhrawardī’s technical
terminologies are presented and discussed in this work. The second part of the
chapter devoted to Dawānī consists of his treatise on ethics titled Akhlāq-i jalālī (The Jalālian Ethics) where he discusses a
wide range of problems pertaining to ethics and political philosophy and in a
didactic manner reminds those in a position of power of their moral
responsibility.
Chapter
five deals with Ibn Abī Jumhūr Aḥsāʾī. Here we have included
a section of his Kitāb al-Mujlī (The Book of the
Illuminated) where he presents the opinions of the theologians (mutakallimūn) and philosophers such as Rāzī and Ibn Sīnā,
and discusses such problems as epistemology, the role of revelation,
purification and providence. His treatment of the opinion of other Sufis and
his esoteric reading of the prayers of the prophets David, Moses and Jesus are
of particular significance.
In the sixth chapter we have
included a section from Mullā Ṣadrā’s major glosses on Suhrawardī’s Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (Theosophy of the Orient of Light or Philosophy of Illumination)
dealing with the subject of eschatology. It begins with a discussion on the
difference between resurrection on the Day of Judgment and the transmigration
of the soul. Following a discussion where Mullā Ṣadrā mentions the opinions of Greek and
Persian sages, he offers an analysis of how the ontological status of a person
in this world is related to their status and visions of light and darkness in
the Hereafter. Mullā Ṣadrā offers a discussion of his controversial views on corporeal
resurrection and the gradual perfection of the soul from the animal soul to the
human to the angelic soul. This work represents a gnostic interpretation of
Suhrawardī’s illuminationist views on eschatology.
In Part Two of this volume
we present the revival of the Peripatetic philosophy whose influence had been
substantially curtailed in Persia for some two centuries after Ibn Sīnā. This
section of the book begins with Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s commentary on the Sharḥ
al-ishārāt of Ibn Sīnā by Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī where
he discusses the stations of the gnostics, the philosophical allegory of
Salāmān and Absāl, the relationship between asceticism and epistemology and the
faculties of the soul. We have also included parts of Ṭūsī’s Persian treatise, Risālah andar qismat-i mawjūdāt (Treatise on the Division
of Existents). Discussions here are concerned with the subject of atomism and
the opinions of the Muʿtazilites and the Ashʿarites on corporeality and the problem of infinite divisibility.
In the second chapter of this
section, selections from Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī’s Muṣannafāt (Compositions) have been included. Following a discussion on how
awareness concerning the self is obtained, ‘Bābā Afḍal’ continues with an examination of different types of existence and existents, knowledge and
self-awareness and the reality of the human being. This treatise ends with a
discussion of such traditional philosophical problems as subjects and
predicates, attributes, genus, species and some of the Aristotelian categories.
The third chapter focuses on
Dabīrān-i Kātibī Qazwīnī, a significant but relatively unknown figure. The
selection from Qazwīnī’s Ḥikmat al-ʿayn (Wisdom from the Source) discusses the problem of existence and
quiddity and their relationship to the Necessary Being. Different types of
existences, abstract and real, their relation to the rational soul, revelation,
prophecy, life after death and the problem of knowing the intelligibles are
among the other discussions in this chapter.
In the next chapter, Athīr
al-Dīn Abharī, another relatively unknown figure, has been introduced. Abharī’s
major work Hidāyat al-ḥikmah and the commentary (Shaḥr) of Amīr Ḥusayn Maybudī that are included here, begin with a discussion
concerning the knowledge of God and continue by treating the relationship
between the attribute of necessity and Divine Reality. Abharī’s discussion of
necessity and its relation to God’s Being and Essence and such concepts as
reality, existence, non-existence and essential and non-essential attributes
are among the problems discussed here.
For the last chapter of Part Two we have chosen
Quṭb
al-Dīn Rāzī’s al- Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq (Conception and Judgment). This text deals primarily with
epistemology. The author discusses the correspondence theory of truth and the
affirmative and negative nature of the propositions that address the content of
the mind. Rāzī, who saw Ibn Sīnā as his ‘Shaykh’, discusses modalities of
propositions and their truth value and comments on what Ibn Sīnā and Ṭūsī have said in this regard.
Knowledge, certainty, proof and verifiability are among the themes that Rāzī
discusses in this treatise.
Part
Three presents selections from the work of those
philosophers who have dealt with the subject of philosophical Sufism beginning
with Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī. The chapter devoted to Ghazzālī opens with his Mishkāt al-anwār (The Niche of Lights) where he relies on
the Neoplatonic scheme of emanation to explain, as a commentary on the Qur’ānic
‘Light Verse’, the hierarchy of lights, knowledge of God, refinement of
character and the problem of unity and multiplicity. In the second section, al-Risālat al-laduniyyah (The Wisdom from God) has been
included. Here we see a brief discussion concerning different worlds (e.g.
revealed, hidden, angelic). The treatise continues by examining divisions of
the soul and different modes of knowledge such as the intellectual, religious
and mystical, as well as various methodologies for acquiring knowledge. In the
final section of this chapter, we have included some of the most esoteric
writings of Ghazzālī, Thalāth rasāʾil-fi’l
maʿrifah (Three Treatises
on Knowledge). Here, the knowledge of God, an inquiry concerning the nature of
knowledge and knowledge of the self as three modes of knowledge, is explained.
Among other topics discussed are Sufism, asceticism, the
spiritual journey of the soul and its difficulties, essential and non-essential
types of knowledge and different levels of knowing. Of particular interest here
is Ghazzālī’s esoteric interpretation of numerous verses of the Qurʾān. The three texts
provide the reader with a comprehensive perspective of Ghazzālī’s views on
philosophical Sufism.
The next chapter is devoted
to Ghazzālī’s younger brother Aḥmad. We have included a section from the Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq (Auspices of Divine Lovers), a gnostic interpretation of love not as a
mode of feeling but as a mode of knowledge and being. Aḥmad Ghazzālī analogizes
the lover, love and the relationship to the knower, known and the epistemic
mode of cognition between them. Such mystical concepts as unity, types of love,
and the role of will-power in the spiritual journey and the stages of love are
among topics discussed here.
An extract from ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī’s Tamhīdāt (Dispositions) and his Nāmā-hā
(Letters) have been chosen for the third
chapter. It begins with a discussion of the
differences between acquired knowledge through sense perception and Divine
knowledge and moves on to explain the role of a spiritual master in leading the
seeker of the truth to the right type of knowledge. In the final parts of the
chapter ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
tells us how he was ‘saved from falling’ by studying the works of Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī, but in
another place he supports Ibn Sīnā’s views on the eternity of the world against
Ghazzālī’s view of creation ex-nihilo. The chapter
ends with a selection of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s Letters. This brief selection offers an
esoteric interpretation of several verses of the Qurʾān and the central role of the Prophet Muḥammad as the ultimate
spiritual guide.
In the fourth chapter of Part Three of this
volume we have included a section of al-Nuṣūṣ (The Texts) by Qūnawī.
This treatise, which begins with a discussion concerning knowledge and its
modalities, examines the relationship between knowledge and existence, unity
and plurality and that which is real. The chapter examines further the stations
of gnosis, degrees of knowledge and different levels of knowing God.
Identifying the Real as Being is the heart of Qūnawī’s discussion throughout
this work.
A major section of Āmulī’s
most important work, Jāmiʿ al-asrār (The Sum of Secrets), makes up the next chapter. Following a discussion
of the concept of ‘Unity’ and the manifestations of Divine Unity, the complex
subject of ‘Divine Self-disclosure’ has been examined. The relationship between
existence, Reality and human faculties are discussed next, both discursively
and also based on what has been transmitted by Sufi masters and gnostics. This
selection ends with a discourse on the essential unity of religions and the
harmony that exists between reason and revelation as well as what Āmulī calls
‘Islam and its various levels’.
In the sixth chapter of Part Three, Ibn Turkah’s
Tamhīd al-qawāʿid (Establishing the Principles) has been included. This significant but
much neglected philosopher begins his treatise by attempting to elucidate the
laws of tawḥīd (unity) and offers a classification of such different epistemological means of
gaining cognition as sense perception, reflection and inspiration. Ibn Turkah
applies Plato’s doctrine of participation to the concept of existence and
argues that existence participates in existents in both meaning and concept.
Different types of intelligibles, the necessity of existence and its relation
to existents are among other topics treated here.
In the next chapter we
present Shams al-Dīn Lāhījī’s famous treatise, Sharḥ-i
gulshan-i rāz (Commentary on the Secret Garden of
Divine Mysteries). The selection from Lāhījī begins with a critique of the use
of pure reason to discover the intelligibles in general and God in particular
and continues by focusing on the categories of the real, the nature of pure
thought and the epistemological problems that arise in conventional ways of
knowing. Throughout this text Lāhījī offers philosophical and gnostic
commentaries on Shabistarī’s poetry and unveils the more subtle and hidden
points in this exquisite example of Persian philosophical poetry.
The volume ends with ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī’s al-Durrah al-fākhirah (The Precious Pearl). Jāmī himself
describes this work in his introduction and tells us that his treatise deals
with ‘the verification of the doctrine of the Sufis, the theologians and the
early philosophers’. The treatise examines the beliefs of Jāmī’s predecessors
concerning the being of God, His Names and Attributes, emanation and the
problem of unity and multiplicity. Jāmī tells us that the reason for writing
this work was to inquire about those subjects that are ‘prompted by thought and
reason’. This treatise is important both for the nature of the philosophical
arguments it presents and because it provides us with a detailed account of
early theologians, philosophers and schools of thought that played a role in
the formative period of Islamic intellectual thought.
M. Aminrazavi
There were several philosophical schools
of old including Neoplatonism in which light and illumination have played a
central role, but when in the context of Islamic philosophy we speak of the
School of Illumination or ishrāq we have in mind a
distinct school of Islamic philosophy founded in the sixth/ twelfth century by
Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī, a Persian who was born in Suhraward near Zanjān in
549/1153, was educated in Zanjān and Isfahan, travelled in Anatolia and Syria
and settled in Aleppo where he was put to death around 587/1191. Although
influenced by earlier schools of Islamic philosophy, especially the thought of
Ibn Sīnā, by Platonism and by certain currents of Mazdean thought as well as
Sufism, the School of ishrāq is a distinct
philosophical/theosophical school with its own vocabulary, method and
doctrines. For eight hundred years it has remained a major philosophical
current in the intellectual landscape of the Islamic world especially in Persia
and Muslim India and to some extent in the Ottoman world.
The name ishrāq
by which this School is known is based on the root sh-r-q
which is related to both illumination (ishrāq) and
the place where the light of the sun rises or the orient (mashriq).
This philosophy is, therefore, both illuminative and oriental in the symbolic
and not merely the outward sense. According to this School, the spiritual part
of the cosmos is luminous, God Himself being known as Nūr
al-anwār, the Light of lights, while the material domain in this world
in which we dwell is the abode of shadows and darkness. The intelligible and
luminous world, being the place from which light emanates into our world,
corresponds to the Orient or the East in a metaphysical, symbolic and not a
literal geographical sense, and our world of shadows to the Occident or maghrib. Ishrāqī teachings are
oriental because they are illuminative and illuminative because they are
oriental. A sacred and symbolic geography accompanies the whole notion of ishrāq and in one of his visionary narratives or recitals Qiṣṣat al-ghurbah al-gharbiyyah (The Tale of the Occidental Exile), Suhrawardī deals directly with
this subject in relation to the human condition. He states that by virtue of
the forgetfulness of our original spiritual nature, we
have fallen into this Occident of the realm of existence, but since our spirit
belongs to the world of light, we are not at home here but in exile. The goal
of ishrāqī teachings is to make us aware of the fact
that we are in exile, to remind us of our real home and to provide the guidance
needed to traverse the labyrinths of the cosmic crypt and go beyond it in order
to complete our homeward journey.
The School of ishrāq has its own distinct view of the history of
philosophy. It considers the origin of philosophy to be prophecy and identifies
some of the ancient prophets associated with the Abrahamic world as sages or
philosophers and some of the ancient Greek philosophers as prophetic figures.
This particular view of the history of philosophy is not only mentioned by
Suhrawardī himself, but was elucidated more elaborately by later ishrāqī philosophers, such as Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī, who
wrote histories of philosophy. This conception of the history of philosophy has
been refuted by positivistic modern scholars but their criticism is irrelevant
as far as the view of the tradition itself and its vision of its own past are
concerned. Suhrawardī himself mentions how the earliest treasury of ḥikmah, that is, wisdom or sophia given by God to
man and kneaded into the clay of Adam, became crystallized and bifurcated into
two main traditions, one located in ancient Greece and the other in ancient
Persia. He adds that Islamic civilization was heir to both of these branches
that became reunited in him and his new ishrāqī
School.
Suhrawardī also considered
his School to be the culmination and synthesis of knowledge received through
ratiocination as well as intellectual intuition. He calls the first type of
knowledge discursive (baḥthī) and the second ‘tasted’ (dhawqī). According
to Suhrawardī, the Peripatetic philosophers before him had cultivated the first
and the Sufis the second kind of knowledge. Suhrawardī considered himself to be
the first person in Islamic history in whom these two modes of knowledge had
became synthesized. The School of ishrāq henceforth
emphasized that the true philosopher who is ‘God-like’ (mutaʾallih) (a term originally specifically associated with Suhrawardī) must have
mastered with perfection both discursive and intuitive or ‘tasted’ knowledge.
For the School of ishrāq all knowledge is ultimately
related to illumination and light is both knowledge and being.
Ishrāqī philosophy assumes the existence of the teachings of the mashshāʾī School upon which it
builds but which it also criticizes. Suhrawardī himself criticized several
aspects of Peripatetic logic including the categories, which he reduced to
four, and the meaning of logical definition. He also added the concept of iḍāfah ishrāqiyyah
(illuminative relation) where the relation between B and A constitutes B
itself. This new category plays a major role in ishrāqī
metaphysics and cosmology as well as epistemology. The metaphysics of the ishrāqī School is based completely on light. God is pure
light, the Light of lights, and the whole universe is nothing but degrees of
light which become combined with darkness to the extent that a particular light
becomes distanced from the Source of all light and also higher lights in the
vertical hierarchy of lights. Suhrawardī describes an elaborate
scheme of vertical and horizontal orders of light constituting the angelic
world, and it is especially in his angelology that he reveals clearly the
integration of Mazdean doctrines and symbols into his ishrāqī
metaphysics and cosmology that is inseparable from angelology. Even the name
used by Suhrawardī for the highest angel or light below the Lights of lights is
Bahman which is a modern Persian version of the Avestan Vohu-Manah. The
angelology of Suhrawardī is among the most fascinating features of his
teachings and angels play a central role in ishrāqī
psychology, epistemology and soteriology as well as cosmology and physics.
In the domain of
metaphysics, it is important to add that Suhrawardī considered being or
existence (wujūd) to be simply an accident added to
the quiddities (māhiyyāt) of things that possess
reality. His was, therefore, an ‘essentialist’ metaphysics which was to be
transformed later by Mullā Ṣadrā into an ‘existential’ metaphysics. Later in Islamic philosophy
when the question arose as to whether wujūd or māhiyyah is principial (aṣīl), that is, is the source of reality of an object, Suhrawardī was
always identified with the school of the principiality of māhiyyah
and Mullā Ṣadrā with the principiality of wujūd. For
example, the great founder of the School of Isfahan, Mīr Dāmād, defended the
principiality of māhiyyah and was therefore
automatically identified with Suhrawardī by later historians of Islamic
philosophy and philosophers themselves. In reality the role that wujūd plays in the philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā is played by light (nūr) in Suhrawardī and if one equates nūr
and wujūd in the two grand metaphysical ‘systems’
which have dominated the Persian philosophical scene for so many centuries,
then it becomes evident how close the two ‘systems’ are to each other and also
how deeply the ishrāqī School has influenced the
School of Isfahan and especially al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah of its most illustrious
representative, Mullā Ṣadrā.
In natural philosophy
Suhrawardī rejects the foundation of Aristotelian physics which is
hylomorphism. For him in contrast to the Stagirite and Ibn Sīnā, physical
bodies are not composed of form and matter but are a mixture of light and
darkness. In fact bodies are divided into three categories on the basis of the
degree to which they are transparent to light. Furthermore, the reality of
various species is not determined by the Aristotelian morpha
of various species but by the angelic presences or particular lights that
dominate over that species or what in ishrāqī
language are called arbāb al-anwāʿ or lords of the species,
the lord being none other than a particular angel or light located originally
in the world above in a horizontal order where are to be found the lords of all
the species.
In psychology, Suhrawardī
draws heavily upon Ibn Sīnā’s divisions of the faculty of psychology, but here
again he substitutes a particular kind of light for the soul or nafs understood in the Avicennan sense. In ishrāqī psychology angels or entities of light play a major
role in every domain of human life including protection and guidance of the
soul. Even the act of seeing with physical eyes is for Suhrawardī an
illumination in which the seer and the seen are united in a single
illumination. As for knowledge gained by the soul, at
every level it has a relation to ishrāq and even
sensible perception is related to illumination. This becomes of course even
more central for intelligible knowledge that is intimately bound to
illumination.
One of the major doctrines
of the ishrāqī School is the distinction between
conceptual knowledge (al-ʿilm al-ḥuṣūlī) which is knowledge attained through the intermediary of mental
concepts, and knowledge by presence (al-ʿilm
al-ḥuḍūrī) in which the object
of knowledge is present in an immediate manner before the knower without the
intermediary of concepts. This distinction is basic and was debated among many
later philosophers. This idea, along with that of the unity of the knower and
the known in the act of intellection, which Ibn Sīnā had refuted but which
Suhrawardī had accepted, was accepted by Mullā Ṣadrā and became a cornerstone of his own
‘transcendent theosophy’ (al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah).
The writings of Suhrawardī
and many later ishrāqīs who sought to follow his
example are mostly of high literary quality using a symbolic rather than a
purely discursive language. Suhrawardī’s Persian treatises are in fact among
the greatest masterpieces of Persian philosophical prose while his magnum opus, Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (The
Theosophy of the Orient of Light) marks a peak of Arabic philosophical
writings. Ishrāqī works have their own distinct
vocabulary and symbolic language. They are usually more poetic and symbolic
than other philosophical works and in any case form a very distinct body of
philosophical writings in both Persian and Arabic as far as their literary
qualities and language are concerned. This high literary quality is to be seen
even in many of the didactic works of this School, the best example being the Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq itself.
The ishrāqī
School has had a continuous life in Persia for over eight centuries from a
generation after the life of its founder. As mentioned earlier, it has also had
a long history in the Indian Subcontinent and Ottoman Turkey as well as to some
extent in Arab countries such as Syria and Iraq. The history of none of these branches
of the tree of the ishrāqī School is as yet fully
known. But in any case the main trunk of this tree is rooted in Persia and its
most salient features have been studied. Following the tragic death of
Suhrawardī in Aleppo, a generation of silence followed. Then suddenly in the
seventh/thirteenth century there appears the first commentator and after
Suhrawardī the greatest figure of this School, Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī,
followed by Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī. After these two major figures, the ishrāqī School becomes a main feature of the intellectual
life of Persia and soon of Muslim India and Ottoman Turkey. Throughout the
centuries that follow, this School manifests its presence in two ways: first,
through philosophers who wrote ishrāqī works either
in the form of commentaries on texts of Suhrawardī and other figures of this
School or independent works; and second through the influence of ishrāqī doctrines on other philosophical schools chief
among them al-ḥikmah al-mutaʿāliyah established by Mullā Ṣadrā, a major intellectual school with which we shall deal with in
volume five of this Anthology.
In the
pages that follow we have chosen selections from important works of ishrāqī character starting with Suhrawardī himself and
ending with a thirteenth/ nineteenth-century figure whose very existence bears
testimony to the continuity in the life of the ishrāqī
School as an independent School and not only as integrated into later
philosophical currents. If we have included Mullā Ṣadrā’s Glosses
upon the commentary upon the Ḥikmat al-ishrāq here
rather than in volume five, it is because this work is among the greatest
masterpieces of the ishrāqī School and Mullā Ṣadrā writes here as an ishrāqī philosopher and not as the master of the
‘transcendent theosophy’, the School which he founded and into whose teachings
many of Suhrawardī’s theses are integrated.
We have also included
Dawānī’s commentary upon Suhrawardī’s Hayākil al-nūr
(Temples of Light) here rather than under the School of Shiraz where Dawānī
really belongs, because of the great fame of this opus as a major ishrāqī work not only in Persia, but also in India and
Ottoman Turkey where Dawānī was so well known. Of course, another member of the
School of Shiraz, Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī, wrote a rebuttal to Dawānī and was himself also very
knowledgeable in ishrāqī teachings, but his
commentary on Suhrawardī did not gain the same international fame as Dawānī’s.
Furthermore, the main ishrāqī work of Ghiyāth al-Dīn
Manṣūr, Ishrāq hayākil al-nūr (Illumination of the Temples of
Light) had not been edited when the translations for this volume were
completed. It has just now appeared for the first time in printed form edited
by ʿAlī
Awjabī. Ghiyāth al-Dīn was a towering and central figure of the School of Shiraz
and will be discussed fully in the next volume where the School of Shiraz is
treated. Although we have decided to include him in the next volume, we must
acknowledge here that he and many other philosophers of Shiraz also wrote works
of an ishrāqī nature which, except for Dawānī, have
not been included in this volume. What are presented here are examples drawn
from seven centuries of writings of the ishrāqī
School without in any way claiming to have included all the significant texts.
The works that appear below are, however, all of importance for understanding
this major school of Islamic philosophy that has had such a wide influence upon
philosophy in Persia during the past eight hundred years.
We cannot conclude this
introduction without saying a word about the question of the revival of
interest in Suhrawardī in contemporary Iran. It was Henry Corbin who began to
edit critically the works of Suhrawardī for the first time while he spent the
whole of the Second World War in Istanbul. His two-volume work Opera Metaphysica et Mystica, which include the
metaphysical sections of Suhrawardī’s didactic works as well as the whole of
the Ḥikmat al-ishrāq, was followed by volume
three edited by myself and including all of the master’s Persian texts. These
volumes along with Corbin’s and my own other writings and lectures aroused
considerable interest in him even among some Western-educated Iranians drawn to
philosophy. Many were drawn to him because he had successfully synthesized the philosophical thought of ancient Persia and Islamic
philosophy and they compared him to Firdawsī in the realm of epic poetry.
Interest in Suhrawardī, however, went deeper than chauvinistic and
nationalistic sentiments and began to draw a number of younger philosophers
educated in traditional Islamic circles to ishrāqī
teachings. This resulted in serious works on this school by such traditional
philosophers as Sayyid Jaʿfar Sajjādī and especially Ghulām-Ḥusayn Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī, the author of a major
work in Persian on Suhrawardī, Shuʿāʾ-i
andīshah wa shuhūd dar falsafa-yi Suhrawardī (Rays
of Thought and Intuition in the Philosophy of Suhrawardī), a work which is
itself an ishrāqī philosophical work and marks the
continuity of this school in contemporary Iran, a period which we hope will be
treated in a separate volume after the completion of this Anthology.
There are also Persian philosophers and scholars of philosophy abroad such as
Mehdi Aminrazavi and especially the late Hossein Ziai who have made notable
contributions to the study of this school, along with some of the French
students of Corbin who have introduced certain aspects of ishrāqī
teachings as living philosophy into the contemporary philosophical scene in
Europe.
S. H. Nasr
Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī
Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥyā ibn Ḥabash ibn Amīrak Abu’l-Futūḥ Suhrawardī, also known as ‘Shaykh al-ishrāq’ (Master of Illumination),
was born in 549/1170 in the village of Suhraward near Zanjān, a north-western
Iranian city. His early education seems to have taken place in the city of
Marāghah where he studied philosophy among other subjects with Majd al-Dīn
Jīlī. Suhrawardī then travelled to Isfahan, where he pursued his advanced
studies with Ẓahīr al-Dīn al-Fārsī in philosophy, theology and the sciences,
including studying al-Baṣāʾir (The Observations) of ‘Umar ibn Ṣalāḥ al-Ṣāwī (or Sāwajī).
Like so many other notable
thinkers of the Islamic world at that time, Suhrawardī travelled to Anatolia
and Syria where in Aleppo in 579/1183 he met Malik Ẓāhir, the son of the famous Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Ayyūbī.
Suhrawardī’s esoteric orientation and his intellectual perspective, which were
more inclusive of other traditions such as Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism,
antagonized some of the exoteric jurists at Malik Ẓāhir’s court. Having declared him a heretic,
they asked Malik Ẓāhir to put him to death; the king however refused. The exoteric
jurists then signed a petition and sent it to Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Ayyūbī who, needing the support of the jurists amidst the Crusades,
ordered his son to have him killed. While the manner in which Suhrawardī was
executed is unknown, we do know that Malik Ẓāhir carried out his father’s order
reluctantly. Suhrawardī, who received the title ‘al-Shahīd’ (the Martyred) and
also ‘al-Maqtūl’ (the Murdered), was put to death in 587/1191.
Evidence concerning
Suhrawardī’s life is scarce and unreliable. He lived in a somewhat monastic
fashion and shied away from people; one day he would dress in the manner of a
courtier and the next as a wandering dervish. He had a sharp tongue, a reddish
face, was handsome and of medium height.
Suhrawardī lived at a time
when respect and reverence for rationalist theology (of the Muʿtazilites) had been
replaced by the more faith-based theology of the Ashʿarites. Even though some degree of debate
among the advocates of intellectual sciences continued, the golden era of
philosophical and theological activities in the eastern
part of the Islamic world had declined. Ghazzālī’s defence of Ashʿarite theology and of Sufism
and his criticism of Avicennan philosophy had also put rationalistic activities
on the defensive and philosophy was challenged both by the Ashʿarites and the Sufis,
although in a way Ghazzālī also opened an intellectual space for the appearance
of ishrāqī doctrines.
Suhrawardī, in the tradition
of great synthesizers, wanted to bring about a rapprochement between existing
schools of thought and saw himself as the reviver of that truth which lies at
the heart of all the divinely revealed religions and traditions of wisdom.
Beginning with Avicenna, Suhrawardī sought to rescue him from a purely
Aristotelian interpretation and bring to the surface the more gnostic elements
deep within some aspects of Avicennan philosophy. Suhrawardī was sympathetic to
the fact that some of the exponents of theology (kalām)
had found Avicenna’s logic and metaphysics to be a useful means to defend the
tenets of Islam. Finally, there was the mystical aspect of Avicenna, which
before Suhrawardī had received less attention than his rationalistic writings.
In writings such as Ḥayy ibn Yaqẓān (Living Son of the Awake) and the final chapters of the Ishārāt, the esoteric and mystical aspects of Avicenna’s
philosophy are evident. Suhrawardī, who was well aware of such writings, uses some
of the same symbols in his work Qiṣṣāt
al-ghurbah al-qharbiyyah (A Story of the Occidental
Exile).
Suhrawardī attempted to
bring about a rapprochement between discursive philosophy, mysticism and
intellectual intuition. This consistent and coherent philosophical paradigm,
known as al-ḥikmah al-ilāhiyyah
(literally, ‘theosophy’) or ḥikmat al-ishrāq
(philosophy of illumination), bridges the differences between various
intellectual schools of thought in the Islamic tradition in a new synthesis
which is also a new intellectual perspective.
Suhrawardī respected logic
and discursive philosophy but nevertheless acknowledged the limitations in the
application of reason alone as the means of discovering the truth. According to
him what is required to apprehend completely the higher truth is
illuminationist wisdom. Drawing from a deep mystical intuition, Suhrawardī
compared the principles of logic and discursive reasoning with his findings
through mystical vision, accepting only those elements of the former that could
be harmonized with the latter. For Suhrawardī, reason, mystical experience and
intellectual intuition constitute a single epistemological system and are
reconcilable.
Suhrawardī’s writings are
diverse—Peripatetic, mystical and illuminationist (ishrāqī).
They include his four large works that are of a doctrinal nature: al-Talwīḥāt (The Book of Intimations),
al-Muqāwamāt (The Book of Opposites), al-Muṭāraḥāt (The Book of
Conversations) and finally his magnum opus, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq (The Philosophy of Illumination). The
first three of these works are written in the tradition of the Peripatetic
philosophers and yet are filled with ishrāqī elements
and with commentaries and criticisms of certain Aristotelian concepts. His Ḥikmat al-ishrāq consists
of two parts: in the first he continues with the Peripatetic themes and in the
second he employs a particular language known as lisān
al-ishrāq (the language of illumination). It is here that his
illuminationist doctrine is fully elaborated often in a symbolic language.
Suhrawardī composed a number
of shorter works, some of them in Arabic and some in Persian. Many of these
treatises which are also of a doctrinal nature should be regarded as further
explanations of the larger doctrinal treatises. They include Hayākil al-nūr (Temples of Light), Alwāḥ-i ʿimādī (Tablets Dedicated to ʿImād al-Dīn), Partaw-nāmah (The Book of
Radiance) Fī iʿtiqād al-ḥukamāʾ (On the Faith of the Ḥakīms), al-Lamaḥāt (The Flashes of Light), Yazdān-shinākht
(Knowledge of the Divine), and Bustān al-qulūb (The
Garden of Hearts).
Suhrawardī also composed a
number of highly esoteric works in Persian in which he used a variety of
symbols drawn from different traditions such as Zoroastrianism and Hermeticism
as well, of course, as Islamic sources, especially the Qurʾān. These treatises,
which are among the most beautiful examples of Persian prose, are initiatic
narratives and contain highly symbolic language. They include: ʿAql-i
surkh (Red Intellect), Āwāz-i
par-i Jibraʾīl (Chant of the Wing of
Gabriel), Qiṣṣat al-ghurbat al-gharbiyyah (Story of the Occidental Exile), Lughat-i mūrān
(The Language of Ants), al-Risālah fī ḥālat
al-ṭufūliyyah (Treatise on
the State of Childhood), Rūzī bā jamāʿat-i ṣūfiyān (A Day among Sufis), Ṣafīr-i sīmūrgh (The Song
of the Griffin), and al-Risālah fi’l-miʿrāj (Treatise on the Nocturnal Ascent). The journey of the soul toward
unity with God, the inherent yearning of man toward knowledge of the Divine and
the way this knowledge can be attained constitute the salient features of these
works.
Suhrawardī also wrote a
number of other treatises of a philosophic and initiatory nature. These include
his translation of Avicenna’s Risālat al-ṭayr (Treatise of the Birds) and his commentary in Persian on Avicenna’s al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt. There is also his al-Risālah fī ḥaqīqat al-ʿishq (Treatise on the Reality of Love), which is an elaboration of many
themes of Avicenna’s al-Risālah fi’l-ʿishq (Treatise on Love) and commentaries on several verses of the Qurʾān and some ḥadīths. Although it is not known for certain, it is said that Suhrawardī may
have written a commentary on Fārābī’s Fuṣūṣ. Finally, there are his al-Wāridāt wa’l-taqdīsāt (Invocations and Prayers), which
are his liturgical writings and include prayers, invocations and litanies.
In the following chapter we deal
with Suhrawardī’s most important work Ḥikmat al-ishrāq (The
Philosophy of Illumination). We have included the second part of this major work which
represents Suhrawardī’s metaphysics of illumination. The question of hierarchy,
light and darkness and their various types as well as his ontology, cosmology
and angelology are discussed here.
M. Aminrazavi
THE PHILOSOPHY OF ILLUMINATION
Ḥikmat al-ishrāq
Reprinted from Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq, tr. John Walbridge and Hossein Ziai as The Philosophy of Illumination (Provo, UT, 1999), pp.
77–111.
Part Two: The First Discourse
Section [three]
[On light and darkness]
(109) A thing is either light and
luminosity in its own reality or is not light and luminosity in its own
reality. The meanings of ‘light’ and ‘luminosity’ are the same here, for I do
not use these in a metaphorical way, as when ‘light’ is used to mean that which
is evident to the mind, though even such usages do at the last derive from this
light. Light is divided into light that is a state of something else (the
accidental light) and light that is not a state of something else (the
incorporeal or pure light). That which is not light in its own reality is
divided into that which is independent of a locus (the dusky substance) and
that which is a state of something else (the dark state). The barrier is the
body and may be described as a substance that can be pointed to. Some barriers
are seen to be dark when light ceases to shine on them. Darkness is simply an
expression for the lack of light, nothing more; and it is not one of the
privatives conditioned upon possibility.1 If the world were
posited to be a vacuum or a sphere with no light in it, it would be dark. This
would imply the deficiency of darkness without implying the possibility of
light in it. Thus, it is established that everything that is neither a light
nor illumined is dark. If a barrier is cut off from light, it does not need
something else to be dark. These are like other barriers that never lose their
light—the Sun, for example. These are like other barriers that may cease to
have light in that they are barriers, yet they differ in having light
continually. The light by which these barriers differ from the others is
superadded to their being barriers and subsists in them. It is thus accidental
light, and its bearer is a dusky substance. Therefore, every barrier is a dusky
substance.
(110) Sensible accidental
light is not independent in itself, since otherwise it would not depend on the
dusky substance. Since (light) subsists in (the dusky substance), it is
dependent and contingent. (The light’s) existence is not from the dusky
substance, since it would otherwise be its concomitant and the dusky substance
would never be without it. This is not so; how, indeed, could it be,
considering that nothing necessitates that which is nobler than its own
essence? Thus, that which gives all dusky substances their lights must be
something other than their gloomy quiddities and dark states. You will learn
that dark states1 are caused by light, even though the light itself may also be
accidental. The dark states, moreover, are hidden: how could they necessitate
something less hidden than themselves?2 Therefore, that which gives lights to
the barriers is not a barrier, nor is it a dusky substance. Otherwise, all
barriers and dusky substance would cause accidental lights. Thus, that which
gives them their lights must be something other than the barriers and dusky
substances.
Section [four]
[On the dependence of the body in its existence
upon the incorporeal light]
(111) The dusky barriers possess dark
aspects—shapes, for example—and particularities of magnitude. Although
magnitude is not superadded to the barrier, nevertheless there is a certain peculiarity,
boundary, and limit by which one magnitude is distinguished from another. These
things by which barriers differ from each other do not belong to the barriers
by essence, since otherwise all barriers would share them. Nor do the
boundaries of barriers belong to them by essence, since otherwise all would be
equal. Therefore, they have the accidents by virtue of another. Were the shapes
and other dark states independent, their existence would not depend on the
barrier. Were the reality of the barrier independent by its essence and were it
necessary, its existence would not have to be actualized by particular dark
states and other such entities. Were the barriers independent of magnitude and
states, they could not be multiple, for there would be no separate states to
distinguish them, nor could the essence of each one be particularized. It
cannot be argued that the distinguishing states are concomitants of the
quiddities of barriers that necessitate them, for were that so, they would not
be different in different barriers—yet they do differ.
Intuition affirms that no
lifeless dusky substance receives its existence from another, since with
respect to the lifeless reality of the barrier no one (substance) would have
priority over the others. Through another proof, you will learn that one
barrier does not bring another barrier into existence. Moreover, neither the
barrier nor its dark and luminous states can receive their existence in a
circular manner from something else, for nothing can depend on something that
depends on it. Were that the case, it would bring into existence that which
brought it into existence and would so be prior to it and to itself—which is an
absurdity. Since they are not independent by essence, they are all dependent on
something that is neither a dusky substance nor a dark or luminous state—that
is to say, an incorporeal light. The substantiality of the dusky substance is
intellectual1 and its duskiness privative. Therefore, it does not exist in virtue of
these. It is simply a concrete thing with particular properties.
A rule [stating that incorporeal light
cannot be pointed out by sensation]
(112) Since you know that any light that
can be pointed to is an accidental light, then if there is a pure light, it
cannot be pointed to, nor be located in a body, nor have spatial dimensions.2
A rule [that anything that is light in
itself is incorporeal light]
(113) Accidental light is not light in
itself, since its existence is in another. Thus, it can only be light due to
another. The incorporeal pure light is light in itself. Therefore, everything
that is light in itself is incorporeal pure light.
A General Section [five]
[Showing that whatever perceives its own
essence is an incorporeal light]
(114) Nothing that has an essence of which
it is not unconscious is dusky,3 for its essence is evident to it. It
cannot be a dark state in something else, since even the luminous state is not
a self-subsistent light, let alone the dark state. Therefore, it is a
non-spatial pure incorporeal light.
A detailed section [on what we have just
mentioned]
(115) The self-subsistent, self-conscious
thing does not apprehend its essence by an image of its essence in its essence.
If its knowledge is by an image and if the image of its ego is not the ego
itself, the image of the ego would be an ‘it’ in relation to the ego. In that
case, that which was apprehended would be the image. Thus, it follows that
while the apprehension of its ego is precisely its apprehension of what it is
itself, its apprehension of its essence would also be the apprehension of
something else—which is absurd. This is not the case with externals, since the
image and its object are each an ‘it’. Moreover, if its apprehension of itself
were by an image and it did not know that this was an image of itself; it must
have already known itself without an image. How could something be conceived to
know itself by something superadded to itself—something that would be an
attribute of it? If it were to judge that every attribute added to its essence,
be it knowledge or something else, belonged to its essence, it would have to
have known its essence prior to and apart from any of the attributes. It would
therefore not have known its essence by the superadded attributes.
(116) You are never
unconscious of your essence or your apprehension of your essence. Since this
apprehension cannot be by a form or by something superadded, you need nothing
to apprehend your essence save that essence, which is evident in itself and not
absent from itself. Therefore, it must apprehend its essence due to what it
itself is in itself, and you can never be unconscious of your essence or any
part of your essence. That of which your essence can be unconscious—organs such
as the heart, liver, and brain and all the dark and luminous barriers and
states—do not belong to that part of you that apprehends. Therefore, that in
you which apprehends is neither an organ nor anything to do with a barrier, since
otherwise you would always be aware of these as you are always and unceasingly
aware of your own essence. Substantiality, whether taken as the perfection of
its quiddity or as an expression for the denial of a subject or a locus, is not
an independent entity that could be your essence itself. If substantiality is
taken to be an unknown meaning and if you apprehend your essence continually by
some means other than something superadded to your essence, then this
substantiality, of which you are unconscious, can be neither the whole of your
essence nor any part thereof. If you examine this matter closely, you will find
that that by which you are you is only a thing that apprehends its own
essence—your ‘ego’. All else that apprehends its own essence and ego shares
with you in this. Apprehension, therefore, occurs neither by an attribute nor
by something superadded, of whatever sort. It is not a part of your ego, since
the other part would still remain unknown. Were there something beyond
consciousness and awareness, it would be unknown and would not belong to your
essence, whose awareness is not superadded to it. It is thereby apparent too
that thingness is not superadded to awareness, for it is evident in itself and
to itself. There is no other property with it of which being evident could be a
state. It is simply the evident itself—nothing more. Therefore, it is light in
itself, and it is thus pure light. Your apprehension is not something else
posterior to your essence. If your essence were assumed to be an identity that
apprehends its essence, it would itself be prior to its apprehension and
therefore be unknown—which is absurd. Thus, the matter is as we have said.
A rule
(117) If you wish to have a rule regarding
light, let it be that light is that which is evident in its own reality and by
essence makes another evident. It is, thus, more evident in itself than
anything to whose reality being evident is superadded. Moreover, that the
accidental lights are evident is not due to something superadded to them, since
if that were the case they would be hidden in themselves. Rather their being evident is simply due to their own reality. Nor is it
the case that the light occurs and its being evident is a concomitant of it,
since then it would not be light in its own definition and would be made
evident by something else. Rather, light is evident, and its being evident is
its being light. Some incorrectly argue that our vision makes evident the light
of the Sun, whereas in reality its being evident is its being light. Were there
no men and nothing at all possessed of senses, it would not cease to be light.
(118) Here is another way to
express this: You ought not to say, ‘My ego is a thing whose concomitant is
being evident, but that thing is hidden in itself.’ Rather, it is nothing but
being evident and being light. You already know that thingness is one of the
intellectual predicates and attributes, as are a thing’s being a reality and a
quiddity. Lack of unawareness is something negative and cannot be your quiddity.
Nothing, then, remains but being evident and being light. Thus, anything that
apprehends its own essence is a pure light, and every pure light is evident to
itself and apprehends its own essence. This is one of the methods of proof.
A judgment [that a thing’s apprehending
itself is its being evident to itself]
(119) In addition, we argue that were we
to posit a flavour abstracted from barriers and matter, we would only have
shown that it was a flavour in itself—nothing more. If we assume a light to be
incorporeal, it is light in itself; and it then follows that it is evident to
itself, which is apprehension. It does not follow that an incorporeal flavour
is evident to itself, only that it is a flavour in itself. Were the fact that a
thing is free from prime matter and barriers sufficient to make it aware of
itself, as is the opinion of the Peripatetics, then that prime matter whose
existence they assert would also be aware of itself, since it is not a state in
something else but has its own quiddity and is free from any other prime
matter—there being no matter of prime matter. Thus, it would not be unconscious
of itself, if by ‘unconsciousness’ they mean awareness, then the awareness of
the separate intellects cannot be attributed to lack of unconsciousness.
Indeed, lack of unconsciousness is an allusion to and symbol for awareness, in
this sense. According to the Peripatetics, a thing’s apprehension is the fact
that it is incorporeal and is not unconscious of its essence. The particularity
of the matter itself, as they argue, only occurs through states. So, granting
that the states are hindered from apprehending their own essences by the
matter, what, then, is it that hinders the matter? They admit that prime matter
has particularity only through the states that they call ‘forms.’ If these
forms occur in us, we perceive them. If prime matter in itself is just
something unconditioned, or a certain substance considered apart from
magnitudes and all other states, as they claim, then there is nothing that is
more perfectly simple in its own definition than prime matter—especially since
its substantiality is the denial of its having a subject, as they admit. Why,
then, does it not apprehend its essence by reason of this freedom from
substrata and parts? And why does it not apprehend the forms that are in it?
But we have explained this substantiality and thingness and have shown that
these and their likes are beings of reason.
(120) Then these people
argue that the Creator of everything is nothing but pure existence. But if we
examine the prime matter posited by their school, it turns out that it is
simply existence, since its particularity is by means of forms and
substantiality, as has been explained. There is nothing that is quiddity
absolutely; but rather, when some particularity is established, it is said that
it is a quiddity or an existent. Prime matter, then, must either be some
quiddity or some existent. If its need for forms is due to its being some
existent, then the same is true of the Necessary Existent—exalted is He above
that! If the Necessary Existent intellects His Essence and the things because
of such simplicity, then this must also be the case with prime matter, since it
too is an existent and nothing more. The falsity of such doctrines is plain. Thus,
it is established that whatever apprehends its own essence is a light in
itself, and vice versa. If an accidental light were assumed to be incorporeal,
it would be evident in itself and to itself. That whose reality is evident in
itself to itself has the reality of the light posited to be incorporeal. The
one is the other; they are one and the same.
Section [six]
[On the lights and their classes]
(121) Light is divided into light of
itself and in itself and light of itself but in another.1 You know that
accidental light is light in another. Thus, it is not a light in itself, since its existence is not a light in itself although it is a light of
itself, since its existence is in another.2 The dusky substance
is not evident of itself or to itself, according to what you know. Life is a
thing’s being evident to itself, and a living thing is percipient and active.
You know about perception; and the attribution of activity to light is clear, since
light emanates by essence. Thus, pure light is alive, and every living thing is
a pure light. If a dusky thing perceived its own essence, it would be light in
itself and not a dusky substance. If the barrier or some dusky substance as
such necessitated life and knowledge, that would have to be the case for all
other things that were also barriers or dusky substances, which is not true. If
the dusky substance were posited to have life and knowledge through an added
state, the same argument would apply. Moreover, a state certainly cannot be
evident to itself, as we already know. Nor would it be evident to the barrier,
since the barrier is dusky in itself. How could something be evident to it,
when something to which something else is evident must certainly be evident to
itself of itself? That which has no awareness of itself cannot be aware of
another. Since neither the barrier nor the state is evident to itself, nor are
they evident to each other, then nothing evident to itself may result from
either of them. Since the state has existence only in another, then nothing
self-subsistent may result from it and the barrier. Of these two, only the
barrier is self-subsistent. If one of those two perceives its own essence, it
could only be that which has its own essence: the barrier. For, the barrier and
the state are two things, not one—but you know that the barrier is not evident
in itself.
(122) Here is another proof:
We say that a thing may make something evident to something else—as accidental
light does for the locus—but its being evident to another does not imply its
being evident to another, then that other thing ought to be evident to itself
so that something else could be evident to it. Once this is established, we say
that there cannot be an entity that makes a thing evident to that same thing in
such a way that that thing becomes evident to itself. This is because there is
nothing closer to itself than itself. It was hidden from itself, and its self
being hidden from itself is of itself. Therefore, nothing else could ever make
it evident to itself. How could it be otherwise, when the fact that something
else made its self evident to itself implies the absurdity that its self was
already evident to itself? The barrier is thus in itself hidden from itself and
nothing can make it evident to itself.
(123) There is still another
way of proving this. If anything were to make the barrier evident to itself, it
would be light. Every illumined body would be evident to itself and so would be
alive, which is not so. No particularity that the dark states give to the
barrier can make it necessary for light to make the barrier evident to itself.
It has been shown by another proof that if something is evident to itself, its
being evident to itself is neither by any state nor by any dusky substance.
A principle [stating that a body cannot
bring another body into existence]
(124) You know that you are in yourself an
incorporeal light and that you are incapable of giving existence to a barrier.
If an active, living, substantial light can be incapable of giving existence to
a barrier, a lifeless barrier will certainly be unable to do so.
Section [seven]
[Showing that the intellectual, incorporeal
lights differ by perfection and deficiency, not by species]
(125) Light in itself varies in its
reality only by perfection and deficiency and by entities external to it. If it
had two parts, neither of which was light in itself, each would be either a
dusky substance or a dark state, and the whole would not be a light in itself.
Were one of them light and the other not light, the latter would not
participate in the luminous reality, though it was one of the parts. You will
learn in detail how the lights are distinguished.
Section [eight]
[Also on the differences among the incorporeal
lights]
(126) We claim that the incorporeal lights
do not differ in reality. Were their realities to differ, there would be luminosity
and something else in each incorporeal light. Either that other would be a
state in the incorporeal light, or the incorporeal light would be a state in
it, or each would be self-subsistent. If it were a state in the incorporeal
light, it would be external to its reality since a state of a thing occurs in
it only after its realization as an independent quiddity in the mind. Thus, the
reality does not differ by the state. Were the incorporeal light a state in
that other, it would not be an incorporeal light. Instead, there would be a
dusky substance with an accidental light in it. Since it was posited to be an
incorporeal light—this is absurd. Were each of them self-subsistent, neither
could be the locus of the other nor share in a locus with the other. Not being
barriers, they could not intermingle or touch, so neither would have any
attachment to the other. Therefore, the incorporeal lights do not differ in
their realities.
(127) Here is another proof:
It has been shown that your ego is an incorporeal light, that it is
self-conscious, and that the incorporeal lights do not differ in their
realities. Thus, all the incorporeal lights must apprehend their own essences,
since that which is necessarily true of a thing must also be true of that which
has the same reality. This is another method—though if you have understood what
came before; you will have no need of these proofs.
A principle [stating that which gives
existence to the barriers must apprehend its own essence]
(128) Since an incorporeal light gives all
the barriers their lights and existence, that light must be alive and
self-conscious, since it is a light in itself.
Section [nine]
[Proving that there is a Being necessary by
essence]
(129) If an incorporeal light is dependent
in its quiddity, its need is not directed toward the lifeless dusky substance,
which is not worthy to give existence in any respect to that which is nobler
and more perfect than it. How could the dusky emanate light? Thus, though the
actualization of the incorporeal depends on a self-subsistent light, these
lights ordered in ranks cannot form an infinite series, since you know by
demonstration that an ordered simultaneous series must be finite. Therefore,
the self-subsistent and accidental lights, the barriers, and the states of each
must end in a light beyond which there is no light. This is the Light of
Lights, and All-encompassing Light, the Eternal Light, the Holy Light, the
All-highest Almighty Light, the Dominating Light. It is absolutely independent,
since there is nothing beyond It. The existence of two independent incorporeal
lights is inconceivable. They would not differ in reality, as has been shown.
One would not be distinguished from the other by something they have in common;
nor would they be distinguished by something assumed to be a concomitant of
their reality, since they share in this as well. They would not differ by a
foreign accident, dark or luminous, since there is nothing beyond them that
would cause them to become particularized. If one of them particularizes itself
or the other, both would be individual before their particularization without
something to particularize them—though individuality and duality are
inconceivable without a particularizer. Therefore, the independent incorporeal
light is one. It is the Light of Lights. Everything other than It is in need of
It and has its existence from It. It has no equal, nor any peer. It rules over
all things, and nothing rules it or opposes it; for all sovereignty, all power,
all perfection derives from It. Nonbeing cannot overtake the Light of Lights;
for were it contingently non-existent, it would be a contingent existent and
there would not be sufficient reason in itself for it to come into reality, as
you know, but it would require some sufficient reason. Thus, it would not be
independent in truth and would need something absolutely independent—which
would be the Light of Lights, since this series must end.
(130) Moreover, there is
another proof: A thing does not imply its own non-being, or else it would never
enter reality. The Light of Lights is unitary, having by Its own essence no
condition, and everything else follows from It. If It has no condition and no
opposite, nothing can nullify It, so It is eternal and everlasting. No state,
be it luminous or dark, adheres to the Light of Lights, and It may have no
attribute in any respect.
(131) The general proof is
that if a dark state were in It, It would necessarily have a dark aspect, in
Its own reality, necessitating It. Thus, It would be composite and not a pure
light. A luminous accident may only belong to that in which light is increased.
Were the Light of Lights made more luminous by a state, Its independent essence
would be illuminated by an accidental dependent light that It Itself
necessitated. This is because there is nothing above It to necessitate a
luminous accident. Thus, this is absurd.
(132) Another general proof
is this: That which illumines is more luminous than that which is illuminated
in that respect in which the former gives the latter its light. Thus, its
essence is more luminous than the other essence—which is, in this case,
impossible.
(133) Here is a detailed
proof: Were the Light of Lights of Itself to necessitate a state, It would act
and receive. The aspect of activity would be different that the aspect of
receptivity, every recipient would be active when it received, and every agent
would be a recipient by the activity itself when it acted—but this is not so.
Then it would follow that in the Light of Lights there would be two aspects: an
aspect that necessitated activity and an aspect that necessitated receptivity.
Since this could not regress infinitely, the series would end in two aspects in
Its essence.
(134) Of course, neither of
the two aspects would be an independent light, since there are not two
independent lights, as you know. Nor could one of them be an independent light
and the other a dependent light, since if the dependent light were a state in
the other, the argument would regress. If it were not a state, it would be
independent and would not be in the independent light; but this is impossible,
since the dependent light was posited to be a state in the essence of the
independent light. Nor could one of them be a light and the other a dark state,
since this argument, too, is regressive. Nor could one of them be a dusky
substance and the other in an incorporeal light. In that case, neither would be
connected to the other, and the one, moreover, would not be in the essence of
the Light of Lights. Thus, it is established that the Light of Lights is
abstracted from all else and nothing is part of It. Nothing is conceivably more
splendorous than It! Since a thing’s knowledge of itself amounts to its being
evident to its essence, and since the Light of Lights is pure luminosity whose
being evident is not by another, the life and self-consciousness of the Light
of Lights are essential, not additional to Its essence. You have already seen
the proof of this for every incorporeal light.
The Second DiscourseOn the order of existence,
in [fourteen] sections
Section [one]
[Showing that from the Truly One, in that
respect in which It is one, only one effect is generated]
(135) A light and a darkness, whether
dusky substance or dark state, cannot both occur1 from the Light of
Lights; for causing a light is not the same as causing a darkness. If this
could occur, the essence of the Light of Lights would be compounded from that
which necessitated the light and that which necessitated the darkness. The absurdity
of this has been made plain to you. Indeed, darkness can only be engendered by
It through an intermediary. Moreover, the Light as light engenders only light.
Nor may two lights occur from It, for the one would not be the other and that
which engendered one would not be that which engendered the other. Thus, there
would be two aspects in the Light of Lights—the impossibility of which we have
already made clear. This is indeed sufficient proof of the impossibility of any
two things occurring from It, whatsoever they might be. In further explanation,
we say that there must be something that distinguishes between two things.
Thus, we must explain that which they share and that by which they are
distinguished. This would imply two aspects in its essence—which is absurd.
Section [two]
[Showing that what is first generated from the
Light of Lights is a single incorporeal light]
(136) If we posit the existence of a
darkness (occurring directly from the Light of Lights), then no light in
addition to it would come about from the Light of Lights, for otherwise the
aspects of the Light of Lights would have to be multiple, as was explained
before. Yet, it is obvious that there are many self-conscious incorporeal
lights and accidental lights. Were a darkness to be generated from the Light of
Lights, it would be alone and nothing else would exist, whether lights or
darknesses. Existence itself testifies to the falsity of this. Multiplicity
cannot conceivably result from the Light of Lights in Its unity, nor can any
darkness be conceived to result from a dusky substance or state, nor yet two
lights result from the Light of Lights in Its unity. Therefore, that which
first results from the Light of Lights must be a single incorporeal light.
This, then, cannot be distinguished from the Light of Lights by any dark state
acquired from the Light of Lights. This would imply the multiplicity of aspects
in the Light of Lights in contradiction to the demonstration that the lights,
particularly the incorporeal lights, do not differ in their realities.
Therefore, the Light of Lights and the first light that results from It are
only to be distinguished by perfection and deficiency. Just as among the
objects of sensation the acquired light is not like the radiating light in its
perfection, so, too, is the case with the incorporeal lights. The accidental
lights may differ in their perfection and weakness by reason of the light that
illumines them, though the recipient and its capacity remain the same. A single
wall may accept the light of the Sun or of a lamp or the light of the Sun’s
rays reflected from a glass onto the clay; but it is plain that the light the
clay receives from the Sun is more perfect than that which is reflected from a
glass or which comes from a lamp. The difference in perfection and deficiency
between them is due only to the two givers of light. The agent may also be the
same; but the perfection or deficiency of the ray may differ by reason of the
recipient, as is the case with the rays of the Sun that fall upon crystal, jet,
or earth. That which crystal or jet accepts, for example, is more perfect. The
incorporeal light, however, has no recipient, so that all such lights other
than the Light of Lights have their perfection and deficiency by reason of the
rank of their agent. The perfection of the Light of Lights has no cause;
rather, It is the pure light which has no admixture of dependence or
deficiency.
(137)
Question: Insofar as the quiddity of luminosity does not necessitate
perfection, would not its particularization as the Light of Light (sic) be a contingent effect?1
Answer: the quiddity of
luminosity is a mental universal, not in itself particularized in the external
world. That which is concrete is a single thing, neither a basis nor a
perfection. The mental thing has beings of reason inconceivable in the concrete
thing.
(138) Allusion has already
been made to the arbitrary assertion that the self-subsistent thing does not
admit of perfection and deficiency. Indeed, the difference between the
accidental lights and the incorporeal lights, to which reference has already
been made, consists in two aspects: the ranks of the agent and of the
recipient. It has been shown that the first emanation of the Light of Lights is
single—the Proximate Light, the Mighty Light, that which some of the Pahlawīs
aforetime called ‘Bahman’.2 The Proximate Light is dependent in
itself but independent by virtue of the first. The existence of a light from
the Light of Lights does not happen by the separation of something from It, for
you know that separation and connection are specific properties of bodies. Far
exalted is the Light of Lights above that! Nor can it be by something moving
from It, since states do not move, and you know the absurdity of there being
states in the Light of Lights. We have written for you a chapter in which it is
shown that the rays of the Sun simply exist by reason of it, nothing more. So
you must also understand that this is so for every accidental shining light or
incorporeal light. It must not be imagined that an accident is transferred or
that a body is separated from it.
Section [three]
[Concerning the determinations of these
barriers]
(139) Know that in any direction you may
point, there are limits. If there were no impenetrable barrier surrounding all
other barriers, then movement and pointing would go on into nothingness once
they passed this last sphere—though it has been clearly explained to you that
ordered simultaneous classes, whether bodily or otherwise, are finite. Nonbeing
cannot conceivably be pointed to. It would be the same if this all-encompassing
barrier admitted of division or if it were composed of many barriers. In the
latter case, each one of these barriers—even if it was assumed to be
indivisible—would necessarily be composite and so would be subject to
compounding and division. Thus, movement could occur toward nothing and in no
particular direction—which is absurd. Also, heterogeneous things must
necessarily occur individually first and then be compounded. The simple
substance must first be made as a single body and then be divided, if it admits
of that. Thus, it must necessarily be a homogeneous, single, indivisible,
all-encompassing barrier in which parts cannot even be imagined to exist. Two
different directions cannot occur from it alone, for it is single and
homogeneous, from which in itself only one direction can occur—namely, height.
All that is near to it is high. Therefore, the low is simply the extremity of
distance from it—that is, the centre. This, then, is the encompassing barrier.
(140) There is evidence
showing the indivisibility of that entity from which direction is derived and
which was posited to be unique. If that which moves upwards were to divide it,
then either it moves upwards after penetrating the nearer of the two parts (in
which case ‘up’ refers only to the farther part) or it moves away from up (in
which case ‘up’ refers only to the nearer part). In either case, all of that
which was assumed to be the direction of a part is the direction (of the
whole), and the other part would have no role in it. While we said that that
which has no role in direction is not to be considered together with that from
which the direction is, the same arguments do not apply to the ‘down’
determined by the centre of the celestial sphere.1 When the moving
thing reaches its limit, it becomes, by virtue of its portion of bulk, part of
that which has essentially the extreme of lowness. Each thing is related to a
place by being in it, its place being different from it and different from its
parts. It is possible for its parts to move in relation to the parts of that
which is posited to be its place, whether the transfer cannot be complete (as
is the case with the spheres) or can be complete (as is the case with other
things). Therefore, place is the interior of its proximate container, and that
which is not contained has no place.
Section [four]
[Showing that the movements of the spheres are
voluntary and how the many are generated from the Light of Lights]
(141) The lifeless barrier does not
revolve of itself; for no lifeless thing can have a goal that it seeks,
reaches, and then separates itself from. If an inanimate thing does tend, of
itself and by nature, toward something, it does not then leave its goal; for it
would then tend by nature toward something from which it was also
repelled—which is absurd. Every point that the celestial barriers seek they
also leave without anything compelling them, for the lower has no power over
the higher. Nor do they vie with each other, since there is no mutual
resistance between the encompassing and the encompassed, neither one of which
leaves its place. How, indeed, could they, when they have differing movements
while sharing the daily movement? The daily movement is not compelled, for the
compelled movement would not result from another movement,1 and the body cannot
at the same time have two different movements by essence in one state. There
can be no doubt that some of the movements of the spheres are accidental and
some essential, as when a man walks on board a ship in a direction different
from its movement so that he accepts one motion essentially and the other by
virtue of what he is in. Thus, the daily motion in which all the celestial
barriers participate can only be from the encompassing spheres, while each one
of the spheres has another motion. The mover of each one of these barriers is
alive by essence and is therefore an incorporeal light. Thus, it is also plain
that the barriers are ruled by the lights. Because the spheres are preserved
from corruption, desires, and anger and the movement cannot be for the sake of
some desire related to barriers, it must be for some luminous goal. The seven
planets are known to have many movements so they must have many barriers. None
of these are independent; rather, each is in need of an incorporeal light for
its realization and perfections.
(142) Now, only the
Proximate Light comes to be from the Light of Lights. The Proximate Light does
not contain multiple aspects, since any multiplicity in it would imply
multiplicity in that which necessitated it and thus imply the absurdity of
multiplicity in the Light of Lights. However, there is multiplicity in the
barriers. If only a single barrier and no light come to be from the Proximate
Light, existence would cease with it. But this is not so, since barriers do
have multiplicity, as do their managing lights. Then, if an incorporeal light
came to be from the Proximate Light, and from this light came another
incorporeal light without ever leading to barriers, everything would be lights.
Thus, although the Proximate light cannot bring into being a dusky substance
with respect to its own luminosity, yet still a barrier and an incorporeal
light must result from it, since it contains dependence in itself and
independence by virtue of the First. Its intellection of its dependence is a
dark state; but it beholds the Light of Lights and beholds its own essence,
since there is no veil between it and the Light of Lights. There are only veils
among barriers, dusky substances, and dimensions. The Light of Lights and the
incorporeal lights have no direction or dimension at all. Thus, by that whereby
(an incorporeal light) beholds the Light of Lights, it shadows and darkens
itself in comparison to It, since the more perfect light rules the more
deficient. By the manifestation to itself of its dependence and the darkening
of its own essence in its contemplation of the glory of the Light of Lights in
relation to itself, a shadow results from (the incorporeal light). This is the
loftiest barrier, greatest of the barriers, the all-encompassing barrier of
which we made mention. But with respect to its independence and its necessity
by the Light of Lights and its contemplation of its glory and might, it brings
into being another incorporeal light. The barrier is its shadow, and the
self-subsistent light is illumination from it. Its shadow is only due to the
darkness of its dependence. By ‘darkness’ here, we merely mean that which is
not light in its own essence.
A principle [explaining how multiplicity
comes to be]
(143) Since there is no veil between the
lower and the higher light, the lower light beholds the higher and the higher
shines upon the lower. Thus, a ray1 from the Light of Lights shines upon
the Proximate Light. If it is argued that the aspects of the Light of Lights
must become multiple by Its giving existence and illuminating, one may reply
that that which is impossible because it leads to multiplicity is that the
Light of Lights should give existence to two things simply by virtue of Its
essence. That is not the case here. The existence of the Proximate Light is
solely from the essence of the Light of Lights, and the absence of any veil.
There are a multiplicity of aspects here, a receptive cause, and conditions.
Many different things may indeed result from the one thing by virtue of
differing and multiple states of receptivity.
Section2 [five]
[Concerning the generosity of the Light of
Lights]
(144) Generosity is giving that which is
appropriate without any recompense. The one who seeks praise or reward works
for a wage, as does the one who seeks to be free of blame and the like. But
there is nothing more generous than that which is light in its own reality. By
its essence, it reveals itself to and emanates upon every receptive one. The
True King is He who possesses the essence of everything but whose essence is
possessed by none. He is the Light of Lights.
A principle [governing beholding]
(145) Since you know that vision is not by
the imprinting of the form of its object in the eye nor by something emerging
from the eye, it can only be by the illumined object being opposite a sound
eye—nothing more. Imagination and images in mirrors will be explained later,
for they have great importance. Being opposite amounts to the absence of a veil
between that which sees and that which is seen. Extreme nearness hinders vision
only because illumination or luminosity is a condition of being seen. There
must be two lights: the seeing light and the light seen. When the eyelid is
covered, there can be no question of its being illuminated by external lights,
nor does the light of vision have the power of luminosity to illuminate it.
Thus, one cannot see due to the lack of illumination. This is the case with all
excessive nearness. Extreme distance acts as a veil because of the small degree
to which they face each other. Thus, the nearer the illuminated object or
light, the more easily it is beheld, so long as it remains a light or
illuminated.
Another Illuminationist principle
[explaining that beholding the light is not the same as the shining of a ray of
that light upon that which beholds it]
(146) Know that your eye both beholds and
is shone upon by a ray. The shining of the ray is not beholding; for the ray
falls upon the eye wherever it is, but the seeing eye can only behold the Sun
when it faces the Sun from a great distance, as was indicated before. Were the
eyelid luminous or the Sun as near as the eyelid, both the ray and the
beholding would be increased accordingly.
Section [six]
[Showing that every higher light has dominance
in relation to the lower light and the lower light and that the lower light has
love in relation to the higher light]
(147) The lower light cannot comprehend
the higher light, for the higher light dominates it; but the lower light
nevertheless beholds the higher. When the lights become many, the higher light
possesses a dominance over the lower light, and the lower has a desire and
passion for the higher. The Light of Lights has a dominance in relation to what
is other than It. It does not Itself have a passion for another, but It does
have a passion for Itself, because Its perfection is evident to It. It is the
most beautiful of things, the most perfect of things. It is more evident to
Itself than anything else; for nothing else is so evident, either to that thing
itself or to another. Pleasure occurs only by the apprehension of the actual
perfection in respect to its being perfection and actual. He who is unconscious
of the acquisition of a perfection does not experience pleasure. The pleasure
experienced by the one who experiences pleasure is in the measure of his
perfection and his apprehension of his perfection. Since there is nothing more
perfect, nothing more beautiful than the Light of Lights—nothing more evident
to Itself and to another—then there is nothing more pleasurable to Itself and
to another than the Light of Lights. It has a passion for Its own essence and
is the object of the passion of its own essence and of everything else.
At the root of the deficient
light is passion for the higher light. At the root of the higher light is
dominance over the lower light. Just as the fact that the Light of Lights is
evident to its essence is not something added to its essence, so too, its
pleasure and passion are not additional to its essence. Just as the luminosity
of another cannot be compared to it, the pleasure and passion of another cannot
be compared to its pleasure in its own essence or to its passion for its own essence—nor
can the passion of other things for another be compared to their passion for
and pleasure in it. Thus, all existence is ordered on the basis of love and
dominance. The rest of this will be explained to you. Since the incorporeal
lights are multiple, they necessarily have the most perfect order.
Section [seven]
[Showing that the love of each lower light for
itself is dominated by its love for the higher light]
(148) The Proximate Light beholds and is
illuminated by the Light of Lights. It loves the Light of Lights and itself,
but its love for itself is dominated by its love for the Light of Lights
Section [eight]
[Showing that the incorporeal light does not shine
by something being separated from it]
(149) The illumination of the Light of
Lights upon the incorporeal lights is not by something being separated from it,
as has already been made clear to you. Rather, the illumination is a radiated
light that occurs due to it in the incorporeal light. It is like the
illumination caused by the Sun in that which admits of such illumination.
Beholding is another matter, to which we have made an analogy for you. The
light that occurs in the incorporeal lights from the Light of Lights is that
which we distinguish by the name ‘propitious1 light’. It is an
accidental light, for accidental light is divided into that which occurs in
bodies and that which occurs in the incorporeal lights.
Section [nine]
[On how and in what order the many are
generated from the truly one]
(150) From the Proximate Light a barrier
and an incorporeal light result, and from this light result another incorporeal
light and barrier. This continues until there are the nine spheres and the
elemental world. You know that the succession of ordered lights must be finite,
so the series ceases with a light from which no other incorporeal light
results. Since we meet with a star in each of the ethereal barriers—and, in the
sphere of fixed stars, with such stars as are beyond the power of man to
number—to these must correspond individuals and aspects beyond our reckoning.
Thus, it is known that the sphere of fixed stars does not result from the
Proximate Light, since the causal aspects thereof do not suffice for the fixed
stars. If it is from one of the higher lights, that light
cannot have many aspects, especially in the view of those who consider each
intellect to have only the aspects of necessity and contingency. If it is from
the lower lights, how, then, may this sphere be conceived to be greater and
higher than the barriers of the higher intellects when its stars are more
numerous than theirs? This leads to absurdities. Let us not, then, linger over
this series that the Peripatetics talk of. Each star in the sphere of fixed
stars has a particularity, requiring it to be necessitated and requiring
something to necessitate it, by which it is particularized.
(151) Therefore, the
dominating lights—that is, the incorporeal lights free of connections with
barriers—are more in number than ten, or twenty, or one hundred, or two
hundred, or a thousand, or two thousand, or a hundred thousand. Some among them
cause no independent barrier, for the individual independent barriers are fewer
in number than the stars are ordered in rank. So a second light results from
the Proximate Light, and from the second a third, and likewise a fourth and
fifth, up to a great number. Each of these beholds the Light of Lights and is
up to a great number. Each of these beholds the Light of Lights and is shone
upon by Its rays. Moreover, light is reflected from one to another of the
dominating lights. Each higher light shines upon those that are below it in
rank, and the lower light receives rays from the Light of Lights by the mediacy
of those that are above it, rank on rank. Thus, the second dominating light
receives the propitious light from the Light of Lights twice: once from it,
without intermediary, and another time with respect to the Proximate Light. The
third light receives it four times: the two reflections from its master,1
from the Light of Lights without mediacy, and from the Proximate Light. The
fourth receives it eight times: the two reflections from its master, the two
reflections from the second, once from the Proximate Light, and from the Light
of Lights without intermediary. In this way they are doubled and redoubled to a
very great number; for in the case of the higher incorporeal lights, the lower
light is not veiled from the Light of Lights, veiling being a peculiarity of
the dimensions and distractions of the barriers. Moreover, each dominating
light beholds the Light of Lights, and beholding is not the same as being shone
upon and the emanation of rays, as you know. If the propitious lights have
redoubled from the Light of Lights in this way, how, then, must be the doubling
by reflection of each higher light by its beholding and by its shining its
light upon each lower light with, and without intermediaries!
(152) If the rays of
physical light fall upon a barrier, the light on it is increased in accordance
with their numbers. These may be united in a single locus in such a way that
the individual rays may not be distinguished except through their causes. When
the rays of several lamps fall upon a wall, for example, though one of them may
be shaded, another will remain. This is not like something that becomes more
intense from one or two sources with the intensity remaining after them, nor is
it like the parts of a cause of one thing, however it may be. Many
illuminations may be combined in a single locus, like two desires for two
things in a single locus. The barrier has no knowledge of the increase caused
by each illumination, but the essence of a living thing is itself conscious of
what illuminates it and of the increase in illumination from each. Thus, a
great number of dominating lights result, rank on rank, one from another, in
accordance with the particular beholdings and the magnitude of the complete
rays. These are the fundamental and highest dominating lights. Then other
individual lights result from these fundamental lights by reason of the
combinations of aspects, interactions, and correspondences. For example, there
is the interaction of the aspects of independence, dominance, or love with
them. There is the interaction of the rays of one dominating light with
another, or the rays of dominating lights with the aspects of beholding each
other. There is the interaction of their substantial essences, or the interaction
of one of the rays of some one of them with one of the rays of another. The
fixed stars and their sphere result from the interaction of the rays of all of
them, especially the lower, weak lights with the aspect of dependence. The
constellations of the fixed stars correspond to the interaction of the rays of
all of them, especially the lower, weak lights with the aspect of dependence.
The constellations of the fixed stars correspond to the interaction of the rays
of some with others. By the interaction of the rays with the aspects of
independence, dominance, and love, and the extraordinary correspondences
between the perfect, intense rays and the others, the dominating lights bring
into being the celestial archetypes1 of special and the talismans of the
simples, the elemental compounds, and all that is beneath the sphere of the
stars.
(153) The origin of each of
these talismans is a dominating light that is the ‘archetype of the talisman’
and the luminous self-subsistent species. Insofar as the archetypes of the
talismans fall under the classes of love, dominance, and moderation in
accordance with their origins, the planets and other things differ in being
fortunate, sinister, or intermediate. The dominating luminous species are prior
to their individual—that is, prior intellectually. The most noble contingency2
necessitates the existence of these incorporeal luminous species. The species
do not occur in our world simply by chance, for there is no man save man, nor
wheat save wheat. The species preserved among us are not by chance. They are
not due solely to the conception of the souls moving the spheres, nor are they
ends. Because the conceptions of these souls are from above them, they must
have causes. We shall prove the non-existence of that which they name
‘providence.’ There are no such things as species forms corresponding to what
is below them engraved in the dominating incorporeal lights, for these lights
are not affected by what is below them. Nor do the forms occurring accidentally
in some of them result from the forms occurring in another, for this would
imply multiplicity in the Light of Lights. Thus, their species must be
self-subsistent and fixed in the World of Light.
(154) It is inconceivable
that dominating lights of equal rank come into existence simultaneously from
the Light of Lights, for multiplicity is inconceivable from It. Thus, there
must be intermediate lights ranked vertically. Nor can the higher-ranked
dominating lights be archetypes and of equal rank. Therefore, the archetypes of
equal rank must be caused by the exalted lights and their multiplicity be from
the interactions of rays in the higher lights. If some excellence and some
deficiency is conceivable in the archetypes of talismans due to the perfection
and deficiency of the rays that necessitate them, the like must occur in the
talismans,1 so that one species rules over another species in some respect, but
not in all. Were the ranks of volume among the spheres caused by the exalted
ranked lights, Mars would be unconditionally more noble than the Sun and Venus.
This is not so, since some have larger planets and some larger spheres while
being equal in other respects. Thus, the same must also be true of their
lords—which is to say, the archetypes. The fixed and everlasting excellences
are not based on chance, but on the archetypes of the ranks of their sphere.2
(155) The incorporeal lights
are divided into two classes. The first are dominating lights, those with no
connection to barriers, either of imprinting or control. The dominating lights
include exalted dominating lights and formal dominating lights: the archetypes.
Second are the lights managing barriers. Though they are not imprinted in the
barriers, they occur from each master of an idol in its barrier shadow with
respect to some exalted luminous aspect. If its barrier admits of being
controlled by a managing light, the barrier itself is from an aspect of
dependence. The incorporeal light does not admit of connection or division; for
division, though it is but the lack of connection, is only said of that in
which there might be connection. The aspects of dependence in the exalted
lights is made evident in the common barrier.3 These aspects of
dependence are also made evident in the talismanic archetypes as an aspect of
dependence by which their luminosity is diminished. Dependence in the lower
lights is greater than in the exalted lights. Since ranks must be finite, there
cannot be a dominating light from every dominating light, nor multiplicity from
every multiplicity, nor a ray from every ray. Deficiency ends in that which
necessitates nothing at all, even though multiplicity may only be
conceived to be caused by multiplicity and a dominating light by another
dominating light.
(156) Since the spheres are
alive and have managing lights, their managing lights are not their causes,
since the luminous cause is not perfected by the dusky substance, and the dusky
substance does not dominate the luminous cause by this connection. On the other
hand, the managing light is dominated in a certain respect by its connection.
That which manages it is an incorporeal light that we might name ‘the
commanding light’. From this fact, you will know that by virtue of the First it
necessarily has the aspects of dominance and love; and in the dominating lights
there are the two aspects of the duskiness of dependence and luminosity. Thus,
the classes of effects must be ordered as follows: a light in which dominance
is predominant; a light in which love is predominant; a dusky substance in
which dominance is predominant, as some of the luminous planets; another dusky
substance in which love is predominant, as with other luminous planets;
non-luminous dusky substances in which dominance is predominant—the ethereals
immune from induced corruption; and the dusky substances in which love and
lowliness are predominant—the elementals obedient to and loving their vile
lights when they are veiled from them. Since fire is near to the ethereals, it
also necessarily has dominance over what is below it. We will explain that, if
God the Exalted be willing.
(157) Know that in relation
to its effect every luminous cause possesses love and dominance, and that its
effect possesses a love whose concomitant is humility. Therefore, all existence
occurs in pairs, being divided into luminous and dusky; love and dominance;
might—the concomitant of dominance in relation to the lower—and humility—the
concomitant of love in relation to the higher. As it is written, ‘All things
have We created in pairs, that perchance ye might take heed’ (Qurʾān 51:49).
Section [ten]
[Completing the discussion of the fixed stars
and the other planets]
(158) Since the arrangement of the fixed
stars is not haphazard, it is the shadow of some intelligible order; but this
order—nay, even the pattern of the planets among the fixed stars—is beyond the
knowledge of any man. The wonders of the ethereal world, the relations among
the spheres, their precise and certain enumeration—all these are very
difficult. And there is nothing to prevent there being other wonders
imperceptible to us in and beyond the fixed stars.1
(159) There is nothing
lifeless in the ethereal world. The sovereignty and power of the higher
managing lights reach the spheres through the mediacy of the planets. From them
their faculties go forth, and the planet is like the absolute and supreme organ. ‘Hūrakhsh’, who is the talisman of ‘Shahrīr’,1
is a light of great brilliance, the maker of the day, lord of the sky, to be
venerated, according to the custom of the Illuminationists. It does not exceed
the planets by magnitude and nearness—rather, by intensity—for the magnitude of
all that which is seen from the fixed stars at night and from the rest of the
planets is incomparably greater than the Sun and yet does not make the day.
Section [eleven]
[In explanation of His knowledge—exalted be
He!—according to the Illuminationist principle]
(160) It is clear that vision is not
conditioned on the imprinting of an image or on the emission of something: it
is sufficient for there to be no veil between the seer and the object of
vision. The Light of Lights is evident to Itself, as was shown before, and all
else is evident to It. ‘Not the weight of an atom in the heavens or in the
earth escapes Him’ (Qurʾān 34:3), since nothing veils It from anything. Thus, Its knowledge and
vision are one, as are Its luminosity and power, since light emanates by Its
essence.
(161) The Peripatetics and
their followers say: ‘The Necessary Existent’s knowledge is not something
superadded to It but is only its lack of absence from Its incorporeal essence.’
They also say: ‘The existence of things is from Its knowledge of them.’ Against
them, it may be argued that if (the Necessary Existent) knows and then the
thing follows from Its knowledge, the knowledge is prior to the things and to
the lack of absence from them; for lack of absence of things is posterior to
their actualization. Just as (the Necessary Existent’s) effect is not Its
essence, so, too, Its knowledge of Its effect is not Its knowledge of Itself.
Their argument that Its knowledge of Its concomitant is bound up in Its knowledge
of Itself is without force, since according to this Its knowledge is negative.
How can the knowledge of things be contained in a negation? Incorporeality is
negative, as is lack of absence; for ‘presence’ cannot be taken to mean ‘lack
of absence’, since the thing is not present to itself. That which is present is
not him to whom it is present. Thus, ‘presence’ may only be said of two things,
or ‘lack of absence’ is yet more general. How, then, may knowledge of another
be encompassed in a negation? Moreover, risibility2 is something other
than humanity, and knowledge of it is not knowledge of humanity. For us, the
knowledge of risibility is not bound up in humanity,3 for humanity does
not indicate it by correspondence or inclusion, but only externally. Even if we
know risibility, we also need another form1 known to us
potentially, apart from that form. They make analogies to explain the
differences among the detailed knowledge of subjects, the potential knowledge
of them, and the kind of knowledge man finds in himself as soon as the question
is asked, but these analogies are worthless. When men find knowledge
potentially in themselves when they are presented with questions, they have
found in themselves an ability and power to answer such questions. This power
is nearer than before the question [was asked], for potentiality has degrees.
[A man] does not know the answer to each one in particular so long as he does
not possess the form of each one. [But] the Necessary Existent is exalted above
these things. Moreover, if C is not B, how can such a negation be knowledge of
both and be the providence that knows the order best for both? And if Its
knowledge of things occurs from the things, then how can you seek prior
providence toward the things or prior knowledge of them?
(162) Therefore, the truth
about the Necessary Existent’s knowledge is given in the Illuminationist
principle—that is, Its knowledge of Its essence is Its being a light in Its
essence and evident to Its essence. Its knowledge of things is their being
evident to It, either in themselves or in their connections, which are the
locations where the higher managing lights continuously perceive them.2
That is a relation, and the lack of veil is negative. That this in itself is
sufficient is indicated by the fact that vision occurs simply by the relation
of the thing’s being evident to vision, along with the lack of any veil. Thus,
the relation of the Necessary Existent to anything evident to It is Its vision
and perception of that thing. The multiplication of intellectual relations does
not imply multiplicity in Its essence. Though there is no such thing as
providence, the order of the world is a concomitant of the wonderful
arrangement and relations necessitated by the incorporeal lights and their
reflected illuminations, as was explained before. This ‘providence’ is part of
what they use to refute the principles of those upholding the luminous realities
and the talismanic archetypes—but there is no truth to it. Once this is
refuted, it follows that the order of the barriers is based on the order among
the pure lights and their illuminations in the descending order of causal rank,
such causality being impossible for barriers.3
(163) If there is black and
white in a certain surface, the white will appear nearer, since it is closer to
being evident in the way that near things are. The black will appear more
distant for the opposite reason. Thus, in the world of pure light, which is
without the dimension of distance, all that is higher in degree of cause is closer to that which is lowest because of the
intensity of its being evident. Exalted be the Farthest and the Nearest, the
Loftiest and the Lowest! If it is nearer, it is more worthy to influence and
perfect each essence. Light is the very lodestone of nearness!
Section [twelve]
[On the principle of the most noble
contingency]
(164) One of the Illuminationist
principles is that if a baser contingent exists, a nobler contingent must
already have existed. Thus, if the Light of Lights had necessitated the basest
darkness through Its unitary aspect, no aspect would have remained to
necessitate that which was more noble. If it were supposed to exist, it would
require the absurdity of an aspect more noble than the Light of Lights to
necessitate it. We have demonstrated the existence of the incorporeal managing
lights in man. The dominating light—that which is entirely incorporeal—is
nobler than the managing light; being further from connections with darkness,
it is thus nobler. Thus, its existence must be prior. Therefore, in all things
except contingency, you must believe that which is noblest and best of the
Proximate Light, the dominating lights, the spheres, and the managing lights.
These are beyond the world of chance, so nothing prevents them from being as
perfect as they may be.
(165) There is a wondrous
order occurring in the world of darknesses and barriers, but the relations
among the noble lights are nobler than the relations of darkness and so must be
prior to them. The followers of the Peripatetics admit that there is such a
wondrous order among the barriers, yet they confine the intellects to ten.
Thus, according to their principles, the world of barriers would have to be
more wondrous than the world of lights, more subtle and generous in its order,
and the wisdom therein greater. This is not true, since a sound mind will judge
that the wisdom of the world of light and the subtle order and astonishing
correspondences occurring therein are greater than that of the world of
darkness, which is but a shadow of the world of light. That there are
dominating lights, that the Creator of all is a light, that the archetypes are
among the dominating lights—the pure souls have often beheld this to be so when
they have detached themselves from their bodily temples. They then seek proof of
it for others. All those possessing insight and detachment bear witness to
this. Most of the allusions of the prophets and the great philosophers point to
this. Plato, Socrates before him, and those before Socrates—like Hermes,
Agathadaemon, and Empedocles—all held this view. Most said plainly that they
had beheld it in the world of light. Plato related that he himself had stripped
off the darkness and beheld it. The sages of Persia and India without exception
agreed upon this. If the observation of one or two individuals is to be given
weight in astronomy, how, then, may we ignore the testimony of the pillars of
philosophy and prophecy as to that which they beheld in their spiritual
observations?
(166)
The author of these lines was once zealous in defence of the Peripatetic path
in denying these things.1 He was indeed nearly resolved upon that view, ‘until he saw his Lord’s
demonstration’ [Qurʾān 12:24]. Whoso questions the truth of this—whoever is unconvinced by
the proof—let him engage in mystical disciplines and service to those
visionaries, that perchance he will, as one dazzled by the thunderbolt, see the
light blazing in the Kingdom of Power and will witness the heavenly essences
and lights that Hermes and Plato beheld. He will see the spiritual luminaries,
the wellsprings of kingly splendour2 and wisdom that Zoroaster told of, and
that which the good and blessed king Kay-Khusraw unexpectedly beheld in a
flash. All the sages of Persia were agreed thereon. For them, even water
possessed an archetype in the heavenly kingdom, which they named ‘Khordad’.
That of trees they named ‘Mordad’, and that of fire ‘Ordibehesht’.3
These are the lights to which Empedocles and others alluded.
(167) Do not imagine that
these great men, mighty and possessed of insight, held that humanity had an
intellect that was its universal form and that was existent, one and the same,
in many. How could they allow there to be something unconnected to matter, yet
in matter? How could one thing be in many and uncounted material individuals?
It is not that they considered the human archetype, for example, to be given
existence as a copy of that which is below it. No men hold more firmly that the
higher does not occur because of the lower. Were this not their view, the form
would have another form, and so to infinity.
(168) Nor should you imagine
that they held [universal forms] to be composite, for that would have implied
that they would disintegrate some day. Instead, these are luminous simple
essences, though their idols4 are only conceivable as composite. The
form need not have a resemblance [to concrete things] in every respect, for
even the Peripatetics admit that humanity in the mind corresponds to the many
and is a form of the concrete things, though it is incorporeal and they are
not, and that it is without magnitude or substance and the concrete things are
otherwise. Thus, being a form is not conditioned on resemblance [to concrete
things] in every respect. Moreover, they need not hold that animality has a
form, and bipedality as well. Rather, each thing whose existence is independent
has something holy that corresponds to it. The scent of musk does not have a
form and the musk another; rather, there is a dominating light in the world of
pure light with luminous states—rays and states of love, pleasure, and
dominance—whose shadow falling in this world has as its idol musk with its
scent, or sugar with its taste, or the human form with
its various organs, according to the interaction mentioned above.
(169) There are metaphors in
the words of the Ancients. They did not deny that predicates are mental and
that universals are in the mind; but when they said, ‘There is a universal man
in the world of intellect’, they meant that there is a dominating light
containing different interacting rays and whose shadow among magnitudes is the
form of man. It is a universal—not in the sense that it is a predicate, but in
the sense that it has the same relation of emanation to these individuals. It
is as though it were the totality and the principle. This universal is not that
universal whose conception does not preclude being shared; for they believe
that it has a particularized essence and that it knows its essence. How, then,
could it be a universal idea? When they called one of the spheres a universal
orb and another particular, they did not mean ‘universal’ in the sense used in
logic. Know this well!
(170) Some men adduce in
proof of the forms the argument that humanity per se is not many, and so it is
one. This is not valid, for humanity as such implies neither unity nor
multiplicity but may be said of both. Were unity a condition of the notion of
humanity, humanity could not be said of many. To say that humanity does not
imply multiplicity does not mean that its not implying multiplicity then
implies unity. Though the contradictory of multiplicity is non-multiplicity,
its not implying multiplicity is not an implication of non-multiplicity, and
the contradictory of implying multiplicity is nothing more than not implying
multiplicity. This latter may be so without implying unity. Therefore, the
unitary humanity said of all is only in the mind, and its use as a predicate
does not require another form. The argument that the individuals perish but the
species endures does not necessitate that there be something universal and
self-subsistent. One might well answer that what endures is a form in the mind
and with the origins.1 All such arguments are rhetorical.
(171) The faith of Plato and
the master visionaries is not built upon such rhetorical arguments, but upon
something else. Plato said: ‘When freed from my body I beheld luminous
spheres’. These that he mentioned are the very same highest heavens that some
men will behold at their resurrection ‘on the day when the earth will be
changed for another earth and heavens, and will appear before God, the One, the
Triumphant’ [Qurʾān 14:48]. Plato and his companions showed plainly that they believed
the Maker of the universe and the world of intellect to be light when they said
that the pure light is the world of intellect. Of himself, Plato said that in
certain of his spiritual conditions he would shed his body and become free from
matter. Then he would see light and splendour within his essence. He would
ascend to that all-encompassing divine cause and would seem to be located and
suspended in it, beholding a mighty light in that lofty and divine place. The
passage of which this is a summary ended with the words ‘but thought veiled
that light from me’.2
And
thus spoke he who gave the Law to Arab and Persian: ‘God hath seven and seventy
veils of light. Were these to be stripped from His face, the majesty of His
countenance would consume all that He beheld.’ And God, ‘the Light of the
heavens and the earth’ [Qurʾān 24:35], revealed unto him, ‘The throne is of My light.’
In the prophetic prayers we
find: ‘O Light of Light! Thou wouldst be veiled without Thy creation and no
light would behold Thy Light. O Light of all light! The people of the heavens
are illumined by Thy Light, and the people of earth are brightened by Thy
Light. O Light of all light! O Thou Who dost extinguish every light by Thy
Light.’ And among the traditional prayers is this: ‘I ask Thee by the light of
Thy Countenance, which fills the pillars of Thy Throne.’ I do not adduce these
things as proofs; I only point them out. The testimonies in the holy books and
the words of the ancient sages are beyond count.
1. Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
ed. A. Nourani and M. Mohaghegh (Tehran, 1980), p. 286, explains that the
Peripatetics thought that only that which could be illumined could be said to
be dark. Thus, they held, against Suhrawardī, that air was not dark because it
was transparent and could not itself be illumined.
1. Some manuscripts read ‘most dark states’.
2. In being hidden, they are the opposite of being manifest,
which is the primary quality of light.
1. That is, while substances
are external entities, substantiality exists only in the mind.
2. That is, if there is any
such thing as metaphysical light, it is something different from visible light.
3. Meaning, bodily. ‘Essence’
here renders dhāt¸ which means both ‘self ’ and
‘essence’ in the sense of the concrete being of the thing. The two meanings are
not sharply distinguished in Suhrawardī’s Arabic. This translation tends to use
‘essence’ whenever there is any doubt.
1. Immaterial light and
accidental light respectively.
2. According to Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ, p. 300, a light is a light in itself if it is manifest, and it is a light of itself if it is manifest to itself—in other words, if it
is self-conscious.
1. Suhrawardī seems to
deliberately avoid the use of the term fayḍ, ‘emanation’, preferring
more neutral terms like ṣudūr, ‘generation’, and ḥuṣūl, ‘occurrence’.
1. In other words, there must
be some cause to explain the perfection of the Light of Lights, since other lights
have the same quiddity of light and yet are not the Light of Lights.
2. ‘Bahman’ is the New Persian
and Arabic form of the name of the Avestan Vohu Manah (Good Thought), the first
of the Zoroastrian archangels (ameša spentas) to be
created by Ahura Mazda.
1. Suhrawardī is replying to
the objection that the same argument could be used to prove the indivisibility
of the earth.
1. Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ, pp. 230–231, explains that
the daily movement of the outermost sphere, which the other spheres follow,
cannot be by compulsion, since there is no sphere beyond it to drive it and
since the motion of a lower sphere cannot drive the motion of a higher sphere.
1. ‘Ray’ should be understood
not as a line of light connecting the radiant existent with the thing it
illumines but as an increase in illumination caused by the presence of the
illumined thing before the radiant light.
2. Some manuscripts read
‘Principle’.
1. The word means both a
favourable omen and something that comes into the mind.
1. Meaning the light
immediately above it that gives it being.
1. Literally, ‘masters of
species idols’, meaning the incorporeal lights that are the Platonic Forms of
the various earthly species. It is synonymous with ‘lords of talismans’,
‘talismans’ being the earthy instances of the Platonic Forms: individual men or
horses. Talismans and idols both are material representations of immaterial
spiritual realities. This complex of terms stoutly resists being rendered by
English equivalents that are both literal and clear.
2. This is a technical term for
a fundamental Illuminationist principle stating that every existent must have a
cause ontologically prior and superior to it. See section 164 below.
1. Some manuscripts read
‘archetypes of talismans’.
2. Reading muthul.
If it is read as mithl, the meaning would be ‘on
something like the ranks of their sphere’. Some manuscripts read, ‘on the ranks
of their causes’.
3. The sphere of the fixed
stars, according to Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ, 353.
1. Some manuscripts read ‘the
sphere of fixed stars’.
1. ‘Hūrakhsh’ is the sun.
‘Shahrīr’ is the Zoroastrian angel Xshathra Vairya, ‘Good Dominion’, associated
with the sky and metal.
2. ‘Risibility’ is the ability
to laugh, which is a property of all human beings but is not part of the
essence of humanity.
3. Some manuscripts read ‘in
the knowledge of humanity’.
1. That is, the form of
humanity.
2. According to Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ, 365, these are the past and
future contingents, which are manifest in the souls of the spheres.
3. Since bodies cannot cause
bodies, this hierarchical order must be based on the causal relations among the
lights.
1. That is, denying that there
are more than ten immaterial intellects—or in other words that the Platonic
Forms exist.
2. The terms in this passage
translated as ‘spiritual’ and ‘kingly splendour’ are words borrowed from
pre-Islamic Persian and carry strong Zoroastrian connotations.
3. These are well-known
Zoroastrian angels associated with nature.
4. Meaning, their material
instances, such as individual men. The Arabic expression rendered here as
‘archetypes’ is literally ‘masters of idols’.
1. Meaning, among the
immaterial lights; cf. Quṭb al-Dīn, Sharḥ, 377.
2. Pseudo-Aristotle, ‘Theology
of Aristotle’, in Aflūṭīn ʿind al-ʿArab, ed. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Badawī (Cairo, 1955), 22.
Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī
Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Maḥmūd Shahrazūrī, a major figure in post-Avicennan philosophy and
especially in the School of Illumination, and an illustrious biographer of
philosophers, sages and thinkers in the Islamic and even pre-Islamic world,
lived in the seventh/thirteenth century. Although his Nuzhat
al-arwāḥ wa rawḍat al-afrāḥ (Excursion of Spirits
and Garden of Delights) also known as Fī tārīkh al-ḥukamāʾ
wa’l-falāsifah) recounts the life and thought of
122 notable figures, his own life has remained shrouded in mystery. We know that
he was born in Shahrazūr but do not know the exact date of his birth or his
death. By some accounts he was alive in 687/1288, whereas the contemporary
scholar M. T. Dānish-Pazhūh mentions that he died in 687/1288.
If we know little of him as
a person, a number of his works have survived that provide us with detailed
information about his intellectual orientation. We know that he was an avid
follower of Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī, the master and founder of the School of
Illumination (ishrāq) whom he referred to as ‘al-Shaykh al-ilāhī’ (divine master).
Shahrazūrī’s major work is a
philosophical encyclopedia entitled al-Shajarah al-ilāhiyyah
that he completed in 680/1281. According to Hossein Ziai, this work was
composed ‘after most, if not all of his other works’.1 The inclusion in
this work of the division of the sciences, logic, practical philosophy, physics
and metaphysics together with his extensive reference to other philosophers
clearly demonstrates his familiarity with and mastery of a wide range of
philosophical subjects and schools.
Whereas this work remains
his single most important ishrāqī text, it is his
commentary upon the Ḥikmat al-ishrāq and Talwīḥāt of Suhrawardī that
reveal most about Shahrazūrī’s own intellectual perspectives. Another of his
works al-Rumūz wa’l-amthāl
(Mysteries and Archetypes) pertains to an illuminative way of knowing the
metaphysical modalities. As already mentioned, Shahrazūrī also composed a
commentary on Suhrawardī’s Talwīḥāt, which is a major text written in the tradition of the Peripatetics,
but with certain ishrāqī elements.
Shahrazūrī, who trod the ishrāqī path and referred to it as ‘al-niẓām
al-atamm’ (the most complete system), saw himself
not only as an illuminationist philosopher but also as the ‘Qayyim’
(upholder) of illuminationist philosophy. Whether there was an established
hierarchy among whom Shahrazūrī assumed the mantle of mastery or whether he was
using the title ‘Qayyim’ in an esoteric manner
remains unknown.
While we know nothing about
his teachers or students, we do know that such ishrāqī
thinkers as Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and Ibn Kammūnah, both of whom wrote commentaries on
Suhrawardī’s works, were deeply influenced by him. Shahrazūrī’s writings also
influenced other philosophers among whom one can name several members of the
School of Shiraz. Mīr Dāmād and Mullā Ṣadrā can be named among masters of the School of Isfahan—the former in
his Qabasāt and the latter in his Asfār
make detailed references to Shahrazūrī’s treatment of philosophical issues.
In his history of
philosophy, Shahrazūrī presents in methodical detail the views of other
philosophers, in particular, Plato, Aristotle, Fārābī, Avicenna and Suhrawardī.
Among the theologians, he uses the arguments of Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī to present
counter-arguments to Avicenna and devotes some discussion to an analysis of the
perspectives of the Sufi Ḥasan al-Baṣrī and the Muʿtazilite theologian Abu’l-Hudhayl al-ʿAllāf.
Despite Shahrazūrī’s
illuminationist perspective, he was a philosopher who advocated reading Greek
philosophy, in particular Aristotle. He neither shied away from rational
argument, nor saw it as a peril to illuminationist philosophy but instead
embraced rational philosophy as the preliminary stage for understanding ishrāqī doctrines. His defence of Greek ‘rationalism’ is
genuine and throughout his works he comes across not just as a commentator of
Aristotle or Suhrawardī but as an independent thinker who may have been
reacting to Ashʿarite kalām and the rise of theological
strictures against philosophy. Shahrazūrī, like so many other major thinkers of
the fifth/ eleventh and sixth/ twelfth centuries, was witnessing the rise of
the dogmatic theology of the Ashʿarites and defended philosophy against this movement.
In this chapter, we have
included a section of Shahrazūri’s Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa
rawḍat al-afrāḥ. Although strictly speaking this is not an ishrāqī text, it is a survey of Greek philosophical
thought, including both the pre-Socratics, Plato and Aristotle, seen from an ishrāqī perspective. Shahrazūrī goes beyond the standard
intellectual biography of early philosophers and remains faithful to
Suhrawardī’s view of the history of philosophy by including non-Greek Persian
figures. Illuminationist doctrine considers ḥikmah to have flowed through various channels including
the philosophers of both Greek and Persian civilizations in addition to some of
the prophets of the Abrahamic tradition. Whereas the Greeks and Persians were
channels for the transmission of ḥikmah, Shahrazūrī
maintained that Adam, Seth, Idrīs and Shuʿayb were also channels through whom ishrāqī wisdom was revealed to humanity.
This section is also of
significance to historians of philosophy in that it demonstrates the extent to
which medieval Islamic philosophers knew of the Greeks and were constructively
engaged with their ideas. Furthermore, it reveals that Islamic philosophers
were not merely transmitters of Greek philosophy but that they did philosophize
independently on the basis of several traditions of ḥikmah that the Muslims inherited.
M. Aminrazavi
1. Shams al-Dīn Shahrazūrī, Commentary on the Philosophy of Illumination, ed. H. Ziai
(Tehran, 1993), p. xv. For a complete discussion of the intellectual
orientation of Shams al-Dīn Shahrazūrī see ibid. pp. vi–xxvi.
EXCURSION OF SPIRITS AND GARDEN OF
DELIGHTS
Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa rawḍat al-afrāḥ
Translated for this volume by Majid Fakhry
from Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Shahrazūrī, Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa
rawḍat al-afrāḥ, ed. Muḥammad ʿAlī Abū Rayyān (Alexandria, 1993), pp.
87–297.1
The Beginnings of the History of
Philosophy
You should know that wisdom2
is sought either for the sake of action and is then called practical wisdom, or
for the sake of mere learning and is called theoretical. Some philosophers have
given the practical part priority over the theoretical, while others have
regarded it as subsidiary. In fact, the practical part (of philosophy) bears on
good deeds; I mean, the refinement of character, whereas the theoretical part
bears on the knowledge of the truth; I mean, knowing the essences of existing
entities.
Those two parts may be
attained through perfect reflection, but the reliance of the practical part on
other disciplines is greater. Thus, the prophets have been assisted with
spiritual instruction (that is, through revelation)3 to confirm the
practical part supplemented by some additions from the theoretical part. The
philosophers, by contrast, have received some rational assistance in
confirmation of the theoretical part, as well as some assistance from the
practical part. The ultimate goal of the philosopher is the total unfolding of
the whole universe to his reason and the emulation of God Almighty, as far as
possible; whereas the goal of the prophet is the unfolding of the order of the
universe to his reason, whereby he is able to safeguard the welfare of the
masses and ensure that the world order endures and the welfare of humanity is
regulated. That goal cannot be attained, except through exhortation and
warning, or (simulation)4 and representation. Hence, all that the different religious laws and
creeds have prescribed is affirmed by the philosophers, in the way we have
mentioned, except for those who received their wisdom from the ‘niche of
prophecy’,5 for they are believed to have attained the perfect rank.
Philosophers included the
Brahmin philosophers of India, who denied all prophethood, the philosophers of
the Arabs, who constitute a small band, most of whose wisdom consists of
flights of fancy and mental rambling, and finally the philosophers
of Greece and Byzantium.1 They are divided into the ancients, who are the pillars of that wisdom
and the moderns, who include the Peripatetics and the Stoics, and their modern
followers, who are the philosophers of Islam.
1. Thales
It is said that the first philosopher of
whom this title is predicated, despite the historians’ differences on this
point, was Thales of Miletus.2 He was the first to philosophize in
Egypt, from where he travelled to Miletus as an old man.
Thales says that the first
thing God Almighty created was water, into which everything dissolves. He
surmised that all things derive from humidity, supporting this claim by quoting
the words of the poet Homer, to the effect that the first created entity was
water, which is the first principle or source of material compounds, rather
than the first principle of higher entities. However, having asserted that the
first element is susceptible of every form; namely, is the source of all forms,
he was led to assert the existence in the material world of a paradigm parallel
to it in receiving all the forms, of which he could not find a parallel other
than water. Thus, he regarded it as the first created compound, from which he
held that celestial and terrestrial bodies originated.
This accords with what is
stated in the Bible3 to the effect that the origin of the world is a substance created by
God Almighty, upon which he cast a divine glance which caused its parts to
dissolve into water. Then vapour arose from it, similar to smoke, from which He
created the heavens. There, then, appeared on the surface of the water a froth
similar to the sea’s froth, from which He created the earth; whereupon He held
it in place by means of mountains and other props.
Thales actually received
wisdom from the ‘niche of prophecy’.4 For, what he asserts with respect to
the first principle which is the source of all forms is very similar to the
Guarded Tablet.5 Now water, according to the second view, is very similar to the water
upon which the (divine) Throne rests: ‘And His Throne was upon water.’6
Thales also said that the
world has a Maker that human reason cannot apprehend but can know only through
His effects. For His name cannot be known, let alone His Essence, except by
reference to His actions and His creation i.e. by His origination of all
things. Therefore, He cannot become known through a name that denotes
His Essence, but only by names that refer to His qualities. He brought forth
what He brought forth without its having a form in reality; for prior to
creation, the only thing that existed was He. There is no sense in which He
could have existed together with anything possessing a form in any place. For
His absolute unity is incompatible with such propositions.
(Thales) also said that
beyond the heavens, there exist worlds of light, but human reason cannot
describe their creation nor fathom their beauty by intellect soul or nature.
2. Anaximander
Thales was succeeded by Anaximander the
Milesian, who believed that the first entity created by God Almighty was the
Infinite,1 from which the universe came into being and into which it will return.
3. Anaximenes
Anaximander was succeeded by Anaximenes2 the Milesian, who believed that the
first entity created by God Almighty was air, from which everything else came
and into which it will dissolve. It is similar to breath in us, since it is air
that keeps that in us. Similarly, air and spirit hold the world together. Air
and spirit denote the same thing and are univocal.3
4. Anaxagoras
Anaximenes was succeeded by Anaxagoras4
and Philharmainus,5 who believed that the first principles of existed entities created
originally by God Almighty are the objects of similar parts.6
Anaxagoras is one of the
Milesian philosophers who were known for their wisdom and goodness. He said
that God Almighty is eternal, without beginning or end. He is the source of all
things, and has no origin and nothing is comparable to Him. He is the Creator,
whose form was part of His primal knowledge and for whom forms are infinite.
The forms are eternal and cannot be multiplied with the multiplication of
knowables or change with them. Through His oneness, He created the form of the
(primal) element, then the form of reason. He then arranged the varieties of
forms (in reason) according to the classes of light and the types of traces in
them. Then, those varieties became multiple forms at once, just as the form
appears in a polished mirror without reference to time or order; but since prime matter1 does not bear receptivity, the lights
of the forms have diminished in that matter.
He used to say that the
comparative value of this world to that of the (higher) world is similar to the
comparative value of a vegetable to its peel, from which it is distinct. Thus,
the permanence of this world depends on the little light of that (higher) world
found in it; otherwise it would not last for a single moment. In fact, it will
only last so long as reason sheds the part mixed with it, and the soul likewise
sheds the part mixed with it. When the two parts are shed, the remaining parts
of this (lower) world would perish, while the impure souls would remain
confined to the realm of darkness.
The view of Anaxagoras, the
Milesian,2 is similar to that of Thales, although he differs from him on the question
of the first principles. Those parts, according to him, consist of objects of
similar parts,3 or subtle particles that are not perceived by sense or grasped by
reason, but from which both the lower and higher worlds are formed. For,
compounds are preceded by simple elements and non-homogeneous by homogeneous,
from which compounds are made up. When animals and plants feed on homogeneous
parts and their like, they become homogeneous in the stomach and, as they flow
in the body, turn into non-homogeneous parts.
Anaxagoras agreed with the
other philosophers that the first principle is the Active Reason,4
but differed from them in his view that the Creator is at rest and is
immovable. He says that the origin of things is a single body, which is the
locus of all things and is infinite. He did not state clearly whether it was
one of the elements or not, adding that all bodies, species and variety of
forces emanate from it. He is the first to have spoken of latency and outer
manifestation.5 He came after Anaximenes, the Milesian. Aristotle has filled his books
with his sayings, opinions and doctrines, together with refutations of what he
disagreed with.
Anaxagoras led a life of
frugality and bore well with hardships, exposing himself to cold, ice and snow,
walking barefooted, despite his old age and debility. He was asked about it,
but he answered: ‘Because my soul is prone to merriment, I feel that it might
stray and drive me to cling to its vile caprices. Why cannot I subject it to me
rather than be subjected to it; and why cannot I force it to bear with
hardships, rather than it force me to commit indecencies?’
There was some commotion and
disturbance over certain incidents in his hometown, while he remained unmoved.
He was asked: ‘Does this matter bother you?’ He answered: ‘Were you to see this
in your sleep, would you move while awake? That is why this matter does not
bother me, because the matters of this world are all like
a dream and sound judgment is like waking.’ He also said: ‘The tongue sometimes
swears falsely, but reason swears only truthfully; so see to it that they are
in harmony.’
It is said that his wife
quarrelled with him once and continued for a while to abuse him, while he
remained silent. She became very furious and as she was washing her clothes,
she got up and poured the dirty water over his head. He happened to be reading
a book, he put it down, raised his head facing her and said: ‘You have
thundered, flashed like lightning and then rained,’ adding nothing else.1
He once passed by a fat and
hefty man, who abused him flagrantly, but he took no notice. People then said
to him: ‘Does not his abuse bother you?’ He replied: ‘I do not expect to hear
from a crow the sound of pigeons or from the duck the singing of the canary.’
Whenever bad people praised him, he was frightened, saying: ‘Maybe I did
something awful.’
5. Arselaus
Arselaus,2 son of Apolodorus,
who was an Athenian, believed that the first principle of existing entities
created by God Almighty is the infinite,3 which is susceptible
of condensation and rarefaction, so that part of it becomes fire and part
water.
Those philosophers succeeded
one another and in them Greek philosophy reached its zenith. This, then, was
the beginning of philosophy as it emerged in Miletus. However it appears to me
that these statements attributed to them and other ancient thinkers are all
allusions to their stations and states as well as their inner secrets; for some
of the statements attributed to them would not be said by one with the
slightest discernment, let alone by an eminent philosopher.
6. Pythagoras4
It is also said that philosophy had
another origin, going back to Pythagoras, son of Mnesarchus, a citizen of
Samos. It is said that he was the first person to give philosophy its name.5
He believed that the first thing created by God was number or equations made up
from numbers, which he used to call harmonies and compounds made up of their
elements,6 ratios or geometrical (proportions).
I say that his intent is not
that the first principles are numbers and that number is a self-subsisting
entity that is the origin of existing entities. His intent was rather that
there exist in the intelligible world certain immaterial realities, that are
pure, self-subsisting entities,1 which are not in
space. These are numerals or numbered (entities); for it may be said rightly of
God Almighty that He is First and His second is the First Intellect and so on
and so forth.
Pythagoras came after
Empedocles2 by a long stretch. He learned
philosophy at the hands of the followers of Solomon in Egypt, when they entered
it coming from Syria.
Before that, he had learned
geometry from the Egyptians. Then, he returned to the land of the Greeks and
revealed geometry to them, as well as physics and theology.3 Thanks to his own
talent, he developed music, which he subsumed under numerical proportions,
claiming that he had received that (knowledge) from the ‘niche of prophecy.’4
With respect to the world
and its composition from number and its ratios, Pythagoras held strange
opinions and far-fetched views. He came close to Empedocles in holding that
beyond the world of nature there exists a spiritual and luminous world, but reason
cannot encompass its beauty and splendour, a world which only pure souls can
enter. He who sets his soul straight and cleanses it of arrogance, oppression,
hypocrisy and jealousy, as well as other bodily desires, will become worthy of
joining (that world) and exploring its jewels and indulging in its pleasures.
Pythagoras has written
valuable works on philosophy, music and other subjects. It is said that he
favoured travel and avoiding the touching of both killer and killed. He
advocated the hallowing of the senses and just dealings, as well as the
practice of the other virtues, refraining from sins and seeking the human gift
(of reason), so as to know the nature of all things. He also advocated
experimentation and learning the meaning of the higher sciences, resisting
sins, exhorting the soul and mastering strife.5 He ordered long
periods of fasting, sitting upon chairs, constant reading of books and advised
his followers to teach other men and women. He also called for clear speech and
exhortation of kings.
He believed in the survival
of the soul in the hereafter wherein it will be subject to reward and
punishment, as the metaphysical philosophers have taught. He took two types of
nourishment, so he would not be hungry with one, and he had accustomed himself
to one regular way of life, so he would not be sick one time and healthy
another, nor be obese at one time and frail another.
His temper was very mild and
moderate, so he never became unduly glad or sad about something and no one ever
saw him laughing or crying. He always preferred his friends over himself and
was the first to say that the possessions of friends are
common and undivided. He used to express his philosophical ideas in symbols to
conceal them. Of his symbolic expressions is the saying: 1) ‘Refrain from
excess in seeking pleasure’; that is, avoid excess and 2) ‘Do not stir the fire
with a knife, because it was heated by it once’, that is, avoid words which
excite the angry and infuriated man, and 3) ‘Do not settle down to a life of
poverty’; that is, do not lead an idle existence, and 4) ‘do not come near
fierce lions’; that is, do not heed the opinions of giants, and 5) ‘do not let
bats dwell in your home’; that is, do not listen to the opinions of the proud, who
have no control of themselves, and 6) ‘do not relinquish a burden to is bearer,
so he will need to be assisted in bearing it’; that is, let no one overlook his
own performance of deeds of virtue and obedience, and 7) ‘do not display the
figures of angels on the bezels of rings’; that is, do not reveal your religion
and confide the secrets of the divine sciences to the ignorant.
Porphyry (of Tyre) has given
in his History of Philosophy1 strange accounts of
things that Pythagoras had foretold and of mysterious acts of his, reported or
observed … .
When he reached Babylon, he
sought the company of the Chaldean priests and studied with Zarpata, who
introduced him to what the saints should do and the music of high-ranking
people and the nature of the first principles of all things. That is why
Pythagoras’ philosophy was highly regarded and thanks to him, the path of
leading the nations and guarding them against sins was discovered, due to the
great number of sciences, drawn from every nation or clime that he had
acquired.
Pythagoras visited
Pherecydes, the Syriac philosopher2 early in life in a Syrian city called
Delon, from which Pherecydes migrated and settled in Samos. He became very
sick, to the point that lice were eating his body. When his illness increased,
some of his pupils took him to Ephesus, but when his condition deteriorated, he
pleaded with the people of Ephesus to drive him out of their city. They took
him to Megania;3 his students served him until he died and so they buried him and wrote
his epitaph on his tombstone.
Thereupon, Pythagoras
returned to the city of Samos and studied with Hermo-damese the philosopher,
nicknamed Aphrocyleme, whose company he kept for a while. By then, the
government4 of Samos had reverted to Polycrates, the tyrant.
Pythagoras then sought the
company of the Egyptian priests; so he implored Polycrates to assist him in
that matter. The latter wrote to Amasis,5 king of Egypt,
informing him about Pythagoras’ wish and telling him that he was a friend of
his, whom he wished he would be gracious to and treat well. Amasis then
received him well and wrote to the chief priests
regarding (Pythagoras’) request; and so he came to the City of the Sun, which
is known in our day as ʿAyn al-Shams, carrying the letter of their king and so they received
him well … .
It is reported that
Pythagoras stayed in Samos sixty years, then travelled to Antioch, from whence
he headed to Crotona where he stayed for eight years. When its people rose in
revolt against him, he moved to Metapontum, where he stayed for five years and there
he died.
It is said that Pythagoras
wrote two hundred and eighty books and left a large number of disciples. The
stamp of his ring read: ‘An evil which does not last is better than a good
which does not last either’; that is, an evil which is expected to cease is
better than a good which it is feared will come to an end. On his belt was
inscribed: ‘Silence is a way out of likely regret …’ .
7. Heraclitus1 and Athales (?)
Then came Heraclitus and Athales, who are
affiliated to Metantes. They held that the first principle of all things is
fire, to which all things will ultimately return. When that fire is
extinguished, the world will come into being … .
8. Empedocles
Empedocles son of Hethon2
came from Phrygia.3 He believed that the elements created by God Almighty are the
well-known four,4 whereas the principles are two: love and conquest. The first generates
congregation, the second segregation. I say that this is also a metaphor, and
is not the same as literalist philosophers have claimed.
Empedocles is one of the
great and eminent philosophers, very perceptive in the philosophical sciences,
careful in practical matters. When he acquired the principles of philosophy
from David and Luqmān, peace be with them, in Syria, he returned to Greece to
teach philosophy saying: ‘God Almighty’s essence has always been pure knowledge
and pure will, generosity and majesty, power, justice, goodness and truth. I do
not conceive of any other powers bearing these names, but are simply He. He is
identical with all those creative attributes, not that He was created from
anything else and co-existed with anything else. Instead, He created the simple
elements that are the first intellectual element; I mean, the primary
substance. Then simple entities, generated from that simple and unique, created
entity began to multiply. Then, He created compounds out of the simple elements
and He is the creator of opposites and contraries, intelligible, imaginative or
sensuous … .
Muḥammad Ibn ʿAbd Allāh Ibn Masarrah,
the Esoteric,1 who came from Cordova, was fond of Empedocles’ philosophy and intent
on its study. He was in general a great man, of high distinguished standing,
dedicated to Sufi practices, self-divinization and frugality, who despised the
world and turned to the hereafter. He excelled in the knowledge of the soul and
immaterial entities, their natures and order. I saw a book of (Ibn Masarrah’s)
on philosophy, which reveals his mystical inclination, his powerful character
and his pre-eminence in the metaphysical science and its wisdom. He was the
first to preach the unity of the notions of God’s attributes, and the fact that
they all denote the same thing, rather than distinct notions pertaining to each
of the different attributes. For, He is truly the One in whom there is no
plurality whatsoever, contrary to all other existing entities. For, the higher
unities2 are susceptible of plurality, either in their parts, their
connotations or their analogues. By contrast, the essence of God Almighty is
entirely free of all this.
This idea is also expressed
in the words of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, may God be pleased with him, al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī, a group of the Muʿtazilites and some Muslim
philosophers … .3
9. Democritus4
He was a contemporary of the physician
Hippocrates and lived during the reign of King Bahman, son of Isfandiyār, son
of Gushtāsp. Many writings (and opinions) are attributed to him and are
mentioned by other philosophers in their works.
He is one of the ancient
philosophers, who was once told: ‘Do not blink’. So, he closed his eyes; then:
‘Do not listen’, so he stopped his ears. Then, he was told: ‘Do not speak’, so
he put his hand over his mouth. When told: ‘Do not seek knowledge’, he replied:
‘I cannot do that’.
Aristotle is said to have
preferred his teaching to that of his master Plato; but on that point, he was
not justified.
10. Epicurus5
Epicurus, son of Nannis, was an Athenian,
who philosophized in the days of Democritus. He taught that the first
principles of all things are particles, which are perceived rationally,
separated by a vacuum and are colourless. God Almighty created them as eternal
and indestructible entities. They cannot be broken or destroyed and their parts
are not susceptible of variation or transformation. They are
not perceived by sense1 and they will continue to move in the vacuum and the plenum as long as
God wills. The vacuum is infinite and so are bodies, which are susceptible of
shape, mass and weight.
11. Socrates
Socrates2 the ascetic and
pious sage was a disciple of Pythagoras and Arcelaus.3 The name Socrates in
Greek means ‘clinging to justice.’
He was born during the reign
of Bahman and died of poison. Of philosophical subjects, he confined himself to
metaphysics and ethics, shunned the pleasures of the world, retired to the
mountains and lived in a cave, leading an ascetic life of self-discipline. He
disagreed with the Athenians in their cult of idols and confronted their
leaders with arguments and proofs. This caused the people to rebel against him
and so they forced their king to kill him. He killed him by poison to avoid
their wrath after a series of debates with the king which have been preserved.
He left noble testaments, virtuous moral maxims, famous aphorisms, as well as
views of divine attributes that are close to those of Pythagoras and
Empedocles. He has certain opinions regarding resurrection which appear weak,
but God knows best his secrets and symbolic allusions … .
Socrates, the son of
Sophroniscus, was born and grew up in Athens. He left three male children. When
he was forced to marry, as was their custom in forcing good citizens to marry
so as to continue their progeny, he asked to be married to the most shrewish
woman,4 the meanest to be found in his city, so as to grow accustomed to her stupidity
and to bear with her vile manners and get used to the ignorance of both the
public and the elite.
He admired wisdom to such an
extent that he caused the lovers of wisdom who succeeded him a lot of harm.
For, it was part of his exaltation of wisdom that he was against depositing it
in journals or sheets of paper, out of reverence for it. He says: ‘Wisdom is
pure, incorruptible and unadulterated; therefore we should not entrust it,
except to living souls, rather than the skins of dead beasts and we should
guard it against rebel hearts’. That is why he never left any written works or
dictated to any of his disciples that which they could commit to paper. He only
instructed them orally, just as he had learned from his teacher Timaeus, who is
reported to have been asked once (by Socrates) in his youth: ‘Why do you not
let me record the wisdom I hear from you on paper?’ To this, Timaeus replied:
‘How confident you are in the skins of dead beasts and neglectful of living
thoughts? Imagine that someone were to meet you on the road and to ask you
about some noble part of science; would you prefer to tell him to return to
your home and look into your books? If you do not prefer that, then keep quiet,
O Socrates’. Socrates did just that.
Socrates renounced the world
and was indifferent to it. It was the custom of Greek kings, when they were out
on a military expedition, to get their sages to accompany them on their
travels; so the king took Socrates with him on one of his travels. Socrates
used then to retire to a broken tub in the king’s camp to guard against the
cold. When the sun was out, he used to come out, to warm himself in the sun.
That is why he was called Socrates of the Tub.1
One day, the king passed by
him in that condition and asked him: ‘Why do we not see you, O Socrates, and
what bars you from coming to us?’ He replied: ‘What work’, Socrates replied:
‘Seeking a livelihood?’ The king then said: ‘If you come to us, you will find
that provided for you always’. Socrates said: ‘Had I known that I could find
that provision made by you, I would not have left it’.
The king then asked: ‘I hear
that you said idol-worship is harmful’. He replied: ‘I did not say that’. The
king then asked: ‘What did you say?’ He replied, ‘Idol-worship is profitable
for the king, harmful for Socrates; because the king reforms thereby the
affairs of his subjects and collects his taxes. However, Socrates knows that
idol-worship neither harms nor profits him; because he knows that he has a
Creator, who provides for him and rewards him for whatever good he does’. So,
the king asked: ‘Do you need anything?’ Socrates replied: ‘Yes, move the rein
of your mount away, for your armies have shut out the sun’s light from me’. The
king, then, ordered an expensive silk tunic, jewels and money for him as a
favour. Socrates said to him: ‘O King, you have promised life, but continued to
serve the cause of death. Socrates has no need for the stones of the earth, the
husk of plants or the sputum of worms.2 Socrates is in possession of what he
needs, whenever he goes … .’
When his countrymen asked
him about idol-worship, he barred them from it and prohibited it, forbidding
people from worshipping them. He commanded them to worship the One, Everlasting
God, Creator of the world and all in it, the Wise, the Holy, rather than the
sculpted rock, which neither speaks, nor hears nor feels with any of the
organs. He urged people to lead a life of charity and good deeds, ordered them
to do right and to avoid the indecencies and vile actions, current among the
rest of his contemporaries.
He did not seek the fullness
of sound opinion because he knew that they would not receive that well from
him. Thus, when the leading priests and statesmen of his day learned about the
intent of his message, and that he believed in the destruction of idols and
barring people from their worship, they testified that he must die. Those who
passed the sentence of death against him were the eleven judges of Asles (?). He was made to drink the poison known as hemlock,1
because the king, compelled to kill him by the judges, could not refuse. He
asked him: ‘Choose the death you want’, Socrates said: ‘By poison’, and the
king agreed.
What caused months of delay
in the execution of Socrates,2 once it was approved, was the fact that
the boat that used to be sent to the temple of Apollo every year, carrying its
load, was delayed by the wind for months. It was their custom not to spill any
blood or the like until the boat returned to Selas.3
Socrates’ friends used to
visit him in prison during that whole period. One day as they came in, one of
their number, Crito, said to him: ‘The boat is coming back tomorrow or the day
after. We have tried to pay some money to those people,4 so that you may come
out in secret and then you might head to Rome5 and stay there, and
then they will not be able to touch you’. Socrates replied: ‘You know that my
property does not exceed four hundred drachmas’. Crito then said to him: ‘I did
not mean that you will incur any cost; for we know that you cannot afford what
the judges6 ordered. However, our finances exceed the double of this sum and we
would be delighted to pay it for your release, so that we will not be grieved
at your loss’. Socrates said to him, ‘O Crito; this city in which we have been
treated so well is my city and the city of my people. I have been accused in
it, as you can see, without having done any misdeed to deserve it; but simply
because I opposed injustice and criticized unjust actions and those who commit
them, by reason of their infidelity to God Almighty and their worship of idols.
The causes of my incurring the judgment of death is with me wherever I go and I
will never stop supporting right and attacking wrong and those who perpetrate
it, wherever I go. Moreover, the people of Rome7 are more removed from
me in kinship than the people of my own city. Therefore, this outcome, if
occasioned by a just verdict, will follow me wherever I go, so that I will
never be safer than I am here’.8 Crito then said to him: ‘Remember your
children and your wife and the loss they will incur’. Socrates replied: ‘What
they will encounter in Rome9 will be the same as this; but you are all here with them, so they will
not be lost’.
On the third day, his
disciples came to him as early as usual. The jailor came and opened the door.
Then, the eleven judges came, they entered, stayed for a while, then left,
having removed the iron shackles from Socrates’ feet. The jailer then went out
to meet the disciples and greeted them. They sat with him, then Socrates came down from his bed and sat on the floor. He uncovered his
legs, touched them and scratched them, saying: ‘How strange is this divine
providence, which has brought contraries together; so that there is no
pleasure, but is followed by pain and no pain, but is followed by pleasure’.
This discourse led to their engaging in conversation and so Simmias and Philon1
asked about some of the psychological acts. The conversation among them
developed to such an extent that it covered the discussion of the soul, ably
and exhaustively, while Socrates remained unmoved, in that state of pleasure,
joy and even playfulness they used to witness in him, so much so that they wondered
at his composure and his contempt for death. He never tired of seeking the
truth, wherever it could be found and did not display any change in those
states of his soul they witnessed, at a time when he was immune from death.
They were overwhelmed with grief at the thought of his departure, and so
Simmias addressed him thus: ‘Questioning you while in this state is a great
burden to us and an offence against good company, while refraining from
questioning is a source of great sorrow. For, we know how remote are the
prospects of the outcome we desire’. Socrates answered: ‘Do not give up
searching for whatever you desire; for your searching is something I delight
in. For me, there is no difference between the present condition I am in and
its opposite, as far as the pursuit of truth is concerned. For, if we believe
with certainty the tales which we continue to hear, to the effect that we are
going to join other virtuous, noble and praiseworthy people (after death), such
as Ipselaus (?), Amares (?), Heracles and all those predecessors who possessed
psychic virtues, we need not grieve’.2
When the discussion of the
subject of the soul was concluded and the goal they sought was reached, the
disciples asked him about the shape of the world, the motions of the spheres
and the composition of the elements. He answered them about all that and told
them many tales concerning the divine sciences and higher secrets. When he
finished, he said: ‘Now the time has come for us to bathe and to pray as much
as we can. We should not require anybody to perform the funeral washing; for
the hour calls and we are going to Zeus. As for you, you will return to your
own folk’. Then, he got up, entered a bathroom, where he bathed and prayed. He
was absent for a long time, while the disciples were pondering their great
disaster and how they will lose in him a great sage and learned father and
remain after he is gone like orphans.3
Socrates then went out and
called for his wives4 and children (he had a grown son and two smaller ones). He bade them
farewell and gave them his instructions. Crito then said to him: ‘What is it
you order us to do with your wife and children and your
other affairs?’ He replied: ‘I order you nothing more than what I used to order
you concerning reforming yourselves. If you do that, you would please me most’.
Then he fell silent and so did the rest of the company.
Then, the servant of the
eleven judges came and said: ‘O Socrates, you are very brave in the face of
what is in store for you. You should know that I am not responsible for your
death, but the eleven judges are. I only obey orders. You are indeed the finest
person who has been to this spot; so drink the poison graciously and bear with
the consequent depression’.1 Then, his eyes blinked and he left.
Socrates said: ‘It shall be
done!’ He was silent for a moment, then said to Crito: ‘Call the man who has
the death potion for me’. That man went in with the potion, which Socrates took
from him and drank it. When the disciples saw that he drank it, they were
overwhelmed with crying and grief, to the point that they could not control
themselves. When their crying became louder, Socrates turned to them, reprimanding
and sermonizing them, saying: ‘Here, we have sent away the women, so that they
will not do this’. Thereupon, they felt ashamed and stopped out of obedience
for him, although they were sorely tried at his loss.
Then, Socrates started
walking back and forth and said to the jailer: ‘My legs feel heavy now’. The
jailer replied: ‘Lie down’; so he did. The jailer then started pinching his
feet and asking: ‘Do you feel my pinching?’ Socrates replied: ‘No!’ Then, he
pinched his legs hourly, while he said: ‘No’. He was getting numb and feeling
colder, until the cold reached his loins. The jailer then said: ‘The cold has
reached his heart’, and left. Crito then said to him: ‘O master of wisdom, we
see our minds being distanced from yours. So, tell us what you wish’. Socrates
answered: ‘Do what I told you earlier’. Then, he reached out with his hand to
Crito’s and touched his face and said to him: ‘Tell me what you want’. He did
not answer, then his eyes were fixed and he said: ‘I offer my soul to Him who receives
the souls of the philosophers’. Crito then closed his eyes and pulled his
beard. Plato was not present with the other disciples because he was sick.
12. Plato
Then followed Plato, whose opinion on all
points is identical with that of Socrates. They both believed in three first
principles: God Almighty, the created matter and form.
Plato2 was the son of
Ariston, son of Aristopheles of Athens. He is the last of the Seven Ancient
Sages and is known for his monotheism and wisdom. He studied with Socrates,
Timaeus, the Athenian Stranger3 and the Cretan Stranger.4
When Socrates died, Plato
succeeded him and occupied his chair, adding to his1
curriculum the physical and mathematical sciences. His disciples, Aristotle,
Timaeus (?) and Theophrastos,2 reported that he believed that the
world has an eternal Creator, necessary in Himself and conversant with all the
data peculiar to universal causes. He existed in eternity, when there was
nothing in existence, whether an image, a relic or model, other than the
Almighty Creator. Plato seems to call these Prime Matter3 or the element, in
reference probably to the forms of intelligibles known to Him. He, therefore,
created the first intellect and through its agency the universal soul, which
emanates from the first intellect as a picture emanates from a mirror. Then,
through the agency of the universal soul, He created the elements and prime
matter, pertaining to sensible forms and other entities.4 He incorporated
time, I mean eternal time5 in this scheme of principles and
asserted that every existing entity in the sensible world has an impersonal
archetype in the intelligible world. The first principles, as well as the
archetypes, are simple, whereas individuals are compound. Thus, the sensible
man is a particular representation of the simple and intelligible man. The same
is true of all species of animals, plants, minerals and other entities in this
sensible world, which are effects of entities existing in that (intelligible)
world and every such effect must have an agent, who resembles it in some way.
Human reason, which emanates
from the intelligible world, is able to conceive, for every sensible entity, an
intelligible archetype abstracted from matter, which corresponds fully to the
ideal in the intelligible world, but only partially to the existing entity in
the world of sense in its particularity. Otherwise, reason would not grasp it
as corresponding to the ideal, and then it will not grasp anything as
corresponding to the reality of the object grasped. Moreover, sensible forms
will only last if they have intelligible forms that they aspire to attain, but
dread failure to catch up with them. In fact, if we were able to perceive
through the senses all sensible things, which are limited in space and time, we
would see that they all correspond to their intelligible archetypes.
Aristotle disagrees with
Plato regarding this concept of a universal intelligible. However, he admits
that it is a notion in the mind, existing in thought, but not outside it; for
the same person does not correspond to both Zayd and ʿAmr, who in his essence is one. Plato,
however, holds that that notion in the mind must have something corresponding
to it outside it and this is the intelligible archetype or paradigm, which is
the essence of the mind’s conception of the thing’s existence in no subject.
This paradigm is prior to particular entities, just as reason is prior to
sense. That is both a rational priority and a priority in
rank. The archetypes are the first principles of sensible entities, from which
they came and to which they will return. From this, it follows that the human
souls have existed prior to the bodies, in some mode of intelligible existence,
through which reason apprehends abstract forms.
It is said that Plato joined
Socrates in learning from Pythagoras, but he did not shine or become famous as
a philosopher, except after the death of Socrates. He covered all the branches
of philosophy and wrote many famous books on the different branches of
philosophy, in which he inclined towards allegory and mystification. He graduated
a group of students, whom he taught while he walked. For this reason, they were
called Peripatetics.1 He delegated teaching to the more skilful among his students towards
the end of his life, when he retired from the company of people and devoted
himself to the worship of his Lord. His books include Phaedo,
or the Soul, the Spiritual Timaeus2
dealing with the worlds of the soul, reason and divinity and the Physical Timaeus dealing with the order of the physical
world.
The name Plato in their
language3 means vast and broad; his father’s name was Ariston. Both his parents
belonged to the Greek nobility and were descended from Ascelepius. His mother4
in particular was descended from Solon, the Lawgiver. Early in his life, he
studied poetry and language and attained a high standing in those fields till
one day he attended a lecture of Socrates in which the latter was criticizing
poetry. He liked what he heard, and so he gave up his own previous interests
and kept the company of Socrates, listening to him, for five years. Then
Socrates died.
He once heard that there was
a group of Pythagoreans in Egypt, and he went there to learn from them. Before
joining the company of Socrates, Plato used to incline to the views of Cratylus
in philosophy, but when he joined Socrates, he lost interest in the philosophy
of Cratylus, whom he used to follow in prohibited matters (?), while he
followed Pythagoras in rational matters and Socrates in matters of management.5
Later, he went back from
Egypt to Athens, where he had built a House of Wisdom,6 where he taught the
people. Then, he travelled to Sicily, where he had an encounter with Dionysius
the tyrant, who was its ruler and with whom he had a trying experience.
Eventually, Plato was able to leave him7 and to go back to Athens. There, he led
an exemplary life, doing good and helping the weak. The people of
Athens wanted him to assume the management of their affairs, but he refused
because he felt that their management was different from that management he
considered just, but which they had become so accustomed to, that it had taken
hold of their minds. He understood that he could not prevail on them to change
their ways and that, were he to force them to do so, he would perish as his
master Socrates had perished, although Socrates had not sought the perfection
of right management.
He was eighty-one years old
when he died,1 a man of fine character, doer of noble deeds, munificent in dealing
with his kin as well as strangers, self-assured, gracious and forbearing. He
had many disciples and was followed by two men, who continued his teaching, one
in Athens in the place known as Akademeia, who was named Xenocrates, the other
in the Lyceum2 in Athens, who was named Aristotle. He used to express his
philosophical ideas in allegories to keep them secret and to speak in enigmas
so that his meaning will not be understood, except by masters of philosophy.
Plato wrote many books, of
which the titles of fifty-six3 have reached us. Some of those writings
are large books containing four articles, and are divided into quatrains, each
having a common theme. Each had a particular theme, subsumed under that general
theme and called therefore a quatrain, each of which related to the quatrain
preceding it. [Here a collection of ‘aphorisms’ and ‘sermons’ of Plato follows]
13. Aristotle
[Aristotle] was a citizen of Stagira, who
held that the first principles are four: form, matter, privation and the four
elements, plus a fifth element which is indestructible ether.
Arista4
(in Greek) means good, tā that and līs he says. Hence, the name means ‘the good who says’ …
Aristotle is the leading famous First Teacher and the Absolute Sage (ḥakīm), according to the Greeks. He was called the First Teacher because he
laid down the principles of logical instruction and brought them out from
potentiality to actuality. His case in this respect is similar to that of the
founders of grammar and prosody; since the relation of logic to mental concepts
is similar to the relation of grammar to words and prosody to verse.
Aristotle is the founder of
logic, not in the sense that concepts were not already systematized before him,
but rather in the sense that he distinguished the
instrument1 from the matter of discourse and rendered it more accessible to
learners, whereby it could serve as a scale to which they could refer, whenever
truth is confused with error and right with wrong. However, he compressed his
discourse in the way writers of introductory works tend to do, while later
authors expanded it in the manner of commentators. To him belongs the honour of
forerunners and the merit of preface writers.
Aristotle’s books on logic,
physics, metaphysics and ethics are well known, and there are many
commentaries, such as the commentaries of Theophrastus, Porphyry, Alexander of
Aphrodisias, Basileus and others. However, most of those who succeeded the
First Teacher followed his lead and adopted his views in the manner of
imitators; but the matter is different from what they believed. For, Aristotle
and most of his followers have erred with respect to many questions in the
field of philosophical discourses and their narrow straits. The rectification
of their errors should be sought in our books.2
Aristotle has stated that
the Necessary Being is the same as the Unmoved Mover and that substance is used
in three senses: two physical (or movable) and one immovable. For, every
movable object must have a mover; but if that mover is movable, the process
would go on ad infinitum, without end. Therefore,
movement must depend in the end on an Immovable Mover. Aristotle in their
language means ‘the perfectly noble’;3 Nicomachus,4 ‘the valiant
conqueror.’ For his father was proficient in medicine and Aristotle was born to
him in a city called Stagira, which is part of Macedonia and of the province of
Thrace. His mother’s name was Phaestis5 and his father served as the physician
of Amyntas II, father of Philip, father of Alexander the Great. Aristotle’s
pedigree went back to Ascelapius,6 a noble pedigree for the Greeks, just
as his mother’s pedigree did. When he was eight years old, his father took him
to the city of Athens, known as the City of the Philosophers. He settled in
Qodimus7 and so his father made him join the rhetoricians, the poets and the
grammarians. He continued to study with them for nine years. The name of that
science (which he studied) was called encyclopaedic,8 I mean, linguistics,
because everybody needed it as a tool for advancing to the acquisition of all
wisdom and virtue and it is the expository discipline through which every science
is known.
Some of the philosophers had
despised the sciences of the rhetoricians, the linguists and the grammarians
and reprimanded those who studied them. Those critics
included Pythagoras and Epicurus, who claimed that no philosophy is needed for
learning them, because the grammarians are the teachers of children, the poets
are masters of falsehoods and lying and the rhetoricians masters of trickery,
favouritism and hypocrisy.
When those charges reached
Aristotle, he was furious and strove to defend the grammarians, the
rhetoricians and the poets. He stood up for them saying: ‘It is impossible for
philosophy to dispense with their sciences; for logic is a tool1
of their sciences’. He also added: ‘Man’s superiority to animals is bound up
with logic. The most proficient in languages are the most competent in logic,
the ablest in expressing their thoughts by themselves and placing their words
in their right places. They are also the most qualified to choose the shortest
and clearest types (of expressions). Moreover, wisdom, being the noblest of
pursuits, ought to be expressed in the soundest logical form, the most eloquent
style and the fewest words, so as to be farthest removed from error or oddity,
distasteful reasoning, bad accent or perversion. For all this is bound to dim
the light of wisdom, hamper communication, fall short of the writer’s goal,
confuse the listener, falsify the senses and generate suspicion’.
When he had mastered the
sciences of the poets, the grammarians and the rhetoricians and grasped them
all, Aristotle turned to the ethical, political, mathematical, physical, and
metaphysical sciences. Thereupon, he kept the company of Plato and became his
student, willing to learn from him while he was seventeen years of age, in a
place called ʿAkademeia’ in the City of the Philosophers, Athens. He remained a
student of Plato for twenty years, learning from him orally. Plato did not
entrust him to his student Xenocrates,2 as he did with other students, because
he valued him greatly. When Plato went to Sicily for the second time, he
entrusted to Aristotle the care of the city of learning called the Academy, but
when Plato died, Aristotle went out to a place in Athens called Leukeion, where
he founded an institution dedicated to teaching the philosophy attributed to
the Peripatetics.
Plato believed that physical
exercise, intended to a moderate extent to dissolve unnecessary (bodily)
accretions, is similar to exercising the soul3 by recourse to
wisdom, so that both goals will be achieved in training both the soul and the
body.
It has already been
mentioned that both Aristotle and Xenocrates used to teach students philosophy
while they ‘ambled around’. That is why they were called, together with their
followers, Peripatetics.4 Xenocrates remained in the Academy to teach Plato’s curriculum;
whereas all Aristotle’s philosophy and the books he wrote on logic and the
other parts of philosophy were transferred to the place Aristotle had moved to, called Leukeion and deposited there. His
philosophy and his books used to be called at the time the science of learning
the truth and hearing it.1
When Plato died, Aristotle
joined Aramis, the assistant of Governor Paulus. When that assistant died,
Aristotle went back to Athens. Then Philip sent from him, and so he moved to
Macedonia, where he continued to teach philosophy, until Alexander (the Great)
marched on the Asiatic provinces. Thereupon, he appointed a successor of
Aristotle in Macedonia, and so he went back to Athens to teach for fourteen
years at the Leukeion. At that time, a soothsayer called Engaden (?) started
attacking him for his religious opinions and the fact that he did not prostrate
to the idols that were worshipped at that time and did not honour them. He did
that out of jealousy and a hidden rancour against him. When Aristotle heard
this, he left Athens and went to his country, Chalcis,2 for fear that the
Athenians might do to him what they did to Socrates, the Ascetic. He came to
that place, which we have mentioned in order to watch the tide in the islands
of Orpheus, which lay in Euboia and its neighbourhoods, and write a book on the
subject. He died and was buried there, at the age of sixty-eight.3
When Philip died and was
succeeded by Alexander, his son, who left Macedonia to fight the foreign
nations and conquer the Asiatic provinces, Aristotle chose to lead a life of
piety and relinquished royal contacts. He now concentrated on attending to the
welfare of the common people, assisting the weak, marrying off orphans and
widows and helping those who sought learning and education, whomever they may
be and whatever type of science and education they were seeking. He gave to the
poor in charity and attended to the welfare of people in the cities. He renewed
the building of Stagira,4 having been the one who codified its laws. Thus, he was highly
regarded by its people and received great gifts from the kings and enjoyed an
exalted position.
Aristotle’s withered bones
were exhumed by the people of Stagira and placed in a vessel of copper, which
they buried in a place called Aristoteliana, which they used as a lodge where
they met to discuss serious and melancholy subjects, so they could find rest in
the vicinity of his grave and be close to his buried bones. Every time they
faced a difficult philosophical problem, they were in the habit of coming to
that spot, to sit around it and debate that problem till they lighted on its
solution and their differences were settled. They believed that repairing to
that spot where Aristotle’s bones were buried would enliven their minds, and
rectify their thoughts and refine their intellects, let alone satisfying their
desire to honour him after his death and mourn his departure. Many of
Aristotle’s pupils were drawn from the ranks of kings, princes and
others. They included Theophrastus, Eudemus, Alexander the King, Ammonius,
Antichilius and similar distinguished characters, who were famous for their
learning, eminent in philosophy and reputed for noble descent.
His cousin Theophrastus,
assisted by two scholars, succeeded him as teacher of the philosophy he had
codified and as inheritor of his rank and occupant of his chair. The two
scholars were Eudemus and Aschuares (?), who wrote a number of books on logic
and philosophy.
Aristotle left a lot of money
and a number of slaves both male and female and other forms of property. He
left a will with Antipater1 and some of
his friends to assist him, Theophrastus being asked to assist in the will and
the management of his affairs, if they found it too onerous.
He wrote a large number of
books amounting to approximately one hundred. It is said that he wrote books
other than the hundred, eight on logic, eight on physics, ethics, politics and
a large book on metaphysics, known as Uthūlūjiyā,2
which means ‘divine discourse’ and a treatise on mechanics. In addition, there
are epistles and contracts, the titles of which have reached us, but which we
have not seen. They amount to a large number.
1 Topics that are scattered in the text are presented here in
collated form.
2. Arabic ḥikmah, used interchangeably for
philosophy or wisdom.
3. Added by the editor.
4. Added by the editor.
5. A reference to the Qurʾān 24:35.
1. al-Rūm.
2. On the western coast of Asia
Minor, known as Ionia, hence the Arabic Yūnān for
Greece. Thales is said to have predicted the eclipse of the sun in 585 bc, when
he is presumed to have flourished.
3. Arabic Tawrāt
for Torah. The reference is to the Book of Genesis, I:1–10.
4. See note above. The rest of
the verse reads: ‘And it is He who created the heavens and the earth in six
days, and His throne was upon the water.’
5. Cf. Qurʾān 85:22.
6. Qurʾān 11:1.
1. Called by Anaximander to apeiron. His dates are 611–545 bc.
2. Anaximenes is said to have
died around 499 bc.
3. In Arabic, air or wind (rīḥ) and spirit (rūḥ) are homonyms.
4. Born around 500 bc, and died
around 428 bc.
5. Probably Philolaus.
6. Called by Anaxagoras, homoiomereiai.
1. Hayūlā.
2. Anaxagoras originated from
Clazomenae in Ionia.
3. Homoiomereiai.
4. Noūs.
5. In Arabic al-kumūn wa’l-ẓuhūr.
1. A variant of this story is
told about Socrates and his wife, Xantippe.
2. Archelaus.
3. To
apeiron, already introduced by Anaximander.
4. Born around 580 bc on the
island of Samos and died around 500 bc.
5. It is reported that when his
disciples addressed him as sophos or wise, he
objected, saying: ‘Call me not sophos; for only God
is sophos, but call me philo-sophos’
or ‘lover of wisdom’.
6. Ustuqussāt.
1. In Arabic inniyyāt.
2. Empedocles’ dates are
490–430 bc, which makes him a successor and not predecessor of Pythagoras.
3. Arabic, science of religion.
4. Qurʾān 24:35, a metaphor for
revelation.
5. al-Jihād.
1. This book of Porphyry (d.
304) is lost.
2. He came from Syros, an
island in the Aegean (not Syria).
3. Or Megara (?).
4. Arabic tarānih,
Greek tyrant.
5. Egyptian pharaoh of the 18th
dynasty.
1. Heraclitus’ dates are
544–484 bc.
2. Or rather Meton. Empedocles’
dates are 490–430 bc.
3. Or rather Agrigentum.
4. That is water, fire, earth
and air.
1. Or al-Bāṭinī, died in 931.
2. Or intelligences, existing
in the intelligible world, according to Neoplatonists.
3. ʿAlī ibn ʿAbī Ṭālib, the fourth caliph (656–661);
al-Ḥasan
al-Baṣrī (p. 724), a Sufi and also forerunner of Muʿtazilism.
4. Democritus’ dates are
470–361 bc. He came from Abdera and is generally recognized, with Leucippus, as
the founder of ancient materialism.
5. Epicurus’ dates are 341–270
bc.
1. The text says reason (ʿaqlan), which is absurd. The
reference here is to the atoms, which are not physically perceptible by the
senses.
2. Socrates’ dates are 469–399
bc.
3. Archelaus.
4. That was Xantippe, renowned
in antiquity for her vicious character.
1. This story is told about
Diogenes the Cynic in the Arabic sources, upon his encounter with Alexander the
Great, referred to as ‘the king’ further down.
2. That is, silk.
1. Arabic klone,
probably for Greek kukewn, or mixed drink.
2. Actually one month,
according to Plato’s Phaedo.
3. Delos.
4. Meaning the jailers,
according to Plato’s Crito.
5. Actually, Thessaly, in
Plato’s Crito, 45.
6. Arabic, ‘those people’.
7. Or rather, Thessaly.
8. Meaning the prison in which
he was held.
9. Thessaly. See note above.
1. Arabic, Chilon (?).
2. The heroes mentioned in Apology, 41, that Socrates looked forward to meeting, are
Orpheus, Musaeus, Hesiod, Homer and others.
3. See Plato, Phaedo, 112 ff.
4. Socrates had only one wife,
Xantippe.
1. Cf. Phaedo,
116.
2. Born in 428, Plato died in
348 bc.
3. One of the three speakers in
Plato’s Laws. The second is the Cretan, the third the
Spartan.
4. The Arabic reads Alcrates
(?).
1. Socrates’.
2. He was Aristotle’s
commentator and successor as head of the Lyceum.
3. Hayūlā.
4. This emanationist account is
due to Plotinus (d. 270) and Neoplatonism in general. (Here, p. 267 appears to
be misplaced and is omitted.)
5. al-Dahr.
1. From Greek peripatein or to walk; but this practice and the consequent
adjective were really Aristotle’s and his followers’.
2. A reference to a late
Neoplatonic collection by this title.
3. That is, Greek.
4. Perictione.
5. Meaning ethics.
6. The Academy.
7. Dionysius, the Tyrant of
Sicily, actually ended by selling Plato into slavery. He was freed in Corinth,
when a friend paid his ransom.
1. In 348 bc.
2. Or Leukeion, the school
founded by Aristotle after Plato’s death.
3. Actually, no more than 32
dialogues and 13 letters.
4. Aristotle’s name in Arabic
is given here as Arisṭāṭālīs. This etymology is far-fetched. Ariston
in Greek means good or noble, telos, purpose or end.
1. Hence, the classical name of
Aristotle’s logical collection or corpus is Organon,
meaning instrument or tool.
2. He means in his Ishrāqī
works, which were critical of Aristotle.
3. However, compare note above.
4. Aristotle’s father.
5. Given in Arabic as Aphystia.
6. The god of medicine.
7. That is Akademus Park, where
Plato’s Academy was built.
8. al-Muḥīṭ.
1. Or instrument, Greek. Organon, a term applied to Aristotle’s logical collection,
as already mentioned above.
2. The successor of Spensippus,
Plato’s nephew, as head of the Academy.
3. Meaning, the wind.
4. From Greek, peripatein, ‘to amble’, but see note above.
1. A reference to the so-called
acroamatic (samāʿī) part of Aristotle’s
instruction in advanced subjects, as distinct from the exoteric
or popular part.
2. His mother’s home in Euboia
in the Aegean.
3. Or rather sixty-three,
between 384 and 322 bc.
4. Aristotle’s birthplace.
1. The Macedonian general.
2. Uthūlūjiyā
or Book of Divinity (Kitāb al-Rubūbiyyah) was a
compilation of the last three chapters of Plotinus’ Enneads,
which was erroneously attributed to Aristotle in the Arabic sources. It was
translated into Arabic by ʿAbd al-Masīḥ ibn Nāʿimah al-Ḥimṣī (d. 835).
Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī
Quṭb al-Dīn Abu’l-Thanāʾ Maḥmūd ibn Masʿūd ibn al-Muṣliḥ al-Shīrāzī was born in 634/1236 in Shiraz to a family of physicians
and Sufis. His brother Kamāl al- Dīn Abu’l-Khayr was also a physician and the
famous poet Saʿdī may have been his brother-in-law. Quṭb al-Dīn’s early education took place under
the guidance of his father Ḍiyāʾ al-Dīn Masʿūd with whom he studied the ‘General Principles’ of Ibn Sīnā’s major
work on medicine, The Canon, and he continued his
studies with his uncle and two other physicians by the names of Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad Kabashī and Sharaf
al-Dīn Bushkānī. The latter two figures were also teachers of Sufism and the
rational sciences and Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī may have learned Sufism and some philosophy from them.
His father, who had studied Sufism in Baghdad with Shihāb al-Dīn ʿUmar al-Suhrawardī, was
without doubt the person who first exposed the young Quṭb al-Dīn to Sufism.
Ibn al-Fuwāṭī, Quṭb al-Dīn’s childhood
friend, said of him that he had an enormous amount of energy and stamina, a
sharp tongue and treated his opponents in a cynical and sarcastic manner. John
Walbridge in his work on Quṭb al-Dīn entitled The Science of Mystic Lights: Quṭb
al-Dīn Shīrāzī and the Illuminationist Tradition in Islamic Philosophy states, ‘He played chess brilliantly and often. He played the violin
well. He liked wine, some said. He was an amateur magician. He was full of
stories, jokes and bits of poetry in Arabic and Persian. He … gave large
portions of his income to his students, to the poor, and to orphans.’1
Like Ibn Sīnā, at the age of
sixteen Quṭb al-Dīn was recognized as a physician and ophthalmologist at the Muẓaffarī hospital in
Shiraz. He left his position at the hospital when he was twenty-four in order
to devote himself fully to the pursuit of knowledge. He studied Ibn Sīnā’s
writings and followed his interests in medicine, philosophy and Sufism with a
number of masters. Like so many other great Muslim sages, he travelled
extensively and met with the learned scholars of Khurāsān,
Iraq and Anatolia. Even though Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī had been given a Sufi cloak of blessing, or khirqah, at the age of ten by his father and had benefited
from the presence of Najīb al-Dīn ʿAlī ibn Buzghūsh al-Shīrāzī, the most prominent Sufi in Shiraz, it was
during one of his journeys that he was formally initiated into the Sufi path
through Muḥyī al-Dīn Aḥmad ibn ʿAlī, a disciple of Najm al-Dīn Kubrā.
Around 658/1259, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī joined
Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī
and his staff at the Marāghah observatory and soon became the most important
associate of Ṭūsī, with whom he also studied Ibn Sīnā’s al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt (Book of Directives and Remarks). After a long period of
association with Ṭūsī, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī left for Khurāsān, a major centre of learning, and
studied Ḥikmat al-ʿayn with its author
Dabīrān-i Kātibī Qazwīnī. Quṭb al-Dīn later wrote a commentary on this work. Quṭb al-Dīn continued his
journey to Qazwīn and Baghdad, where he may have taught at the Niẓāmiyyah university. Later
his spiritual quest took him to Qunya (Konya) where he studied with Ṣadr al-Dīn Qunāwī, a
major proponent of Ibn ʿArabī’s school of gnosis. After the death of Ṣadr al-Dīn, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī left Qunya and became a
judge in Sivas and later in Malatya and then moved back to Tabriz. His fame and
stature were noticed by Aḥmad Takūdār, the son of Hülagü Khān, who sent him as an ambassador to
the Mamlūk court in Egypt. Quṭb al-Dīn’s presence in Egypt allowed him much-needed access to the
available commentaries on Ibn Sīnā in the libraries of that city, but the
Persian delegation, which had not been received warmly, did not remain long in
Egypt.
Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī returned to Tabriz and in
679/1280 he finally began to write the texts and the major commentaries that
preoccupied him for the rest of his life. In 689/1290 he wrote his second
commentary on Ibn Sīnā’s Canon and later in the same
year he completed his commentary on Suhrawardī’s Ḥikmat al-ishrāq, which he dedicated to Jamāl al-Dīn Dastjirdānī. While in Tabriz, he
met Rashīd al-Dīn Tabrīzī, the powerful minister with whom Quṭb al- Dīn Shīrāzī had an
uneasy relationship. He therefore soon left Tabriz and went to the court of
Amīr Dabbāj, who ruled over an independent area in western Gīlān, and dedicated
his philosophical encyclopaedia Durrat al-tāj (Pearl
of the Crown) to him. While in Gīlān, Quṭb al-Dīn wrote several works, among which it
is said was a forty-volume commentary on the Qurʾān as well as a work on difficult passages
in the Qurʾān and glosses on Zamakhsharī’s commentary on the Qurʾān.
Having spent fourteen years
of research and writing in the capital of the Īl-Khānids, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī died in
709/1309, only ten weeks after completing a third version of his commentary on
Ibn Sīnā’s Canon. He is buried in Charandāb cemetery
in Tabriz close to his fellow student Bayḍāwī.
Nothing is known of his
family, or even whether he had any. While it would have been unusual for him
not to be married, in one of his later books he passionately defends celibacy.
We know that at the time of his death Quṭb al-Dīn had no family to
bury him and his funeral was arranged by one of his students, Khwājah ʿIzz al-Dīn Ṭībī.
Among notable students of Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī we can
name Quṭb
al-Dīn al-Taḥtānī and Kamāl al-Dīn al-Fārsī, who were both learned in philosophy and
optics. The latter wrote The Book of Judgment, a
critical evaluation of Ṭūsī and Rāzī and a notable commentary on Ibn al-Haytham’s Optics.
Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī has been referred to as ‘al-Mutafann’ (master of many sciences), and ‘ʿAllāmah’ (great scholar)
and his passion for learning is legendary among Persians. To date, twenty-six
of his books and treatises have been catalogued, most of which remain
unpublished and a number of his works are no longer extant.
In terms of philosophy, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī should
be viewed as a link between the earlier Peripatetic philosophy of Ibn Sīnā,
Suhrawardī’s School of Illumination and Mullā Ṣadrā’s al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah. Between
Suhrawardī and Mullā Ṣadrā, there are about four centuries when philosophical activities in
Persia were concentrated first in Azarbaijan and then Shiraz. Quṭb al- Dīn Shīrāzī is
considered as the first major philosopher of the School of Shiraz and he played
a major role not only in keeping the flame of discursive thought alive but also
in continuing the illuminationist (ishrāqī) tradition
of Suhrawardī. His major work, Durrat al- tāj (The
Pearl of the Crown) is a Persian encyclopedia of Peripatetic philosophy that
closely follows Ibn Sīnā’s Shifāʾ but with an ishrāqī interpretation. One of the salient features of
eighth/ fourteenth century intellectual ambiance in Persia was a gradual rapprochement
between four schools of thought. Each of these schools, seen as the flowering
of a particular tradition of wisdom, possessed its own epistemological
paradigm. They include theology (kalām), Peripatetic
philosophy (mashshāʾī), illuminationist philosophy (ishrāqī) and
gnosis (ʿirfān). Quṭb al-Dīn’s synthesis of
the different branches of wisdom was a precursor to the later School of Shiraz
and especially the School of Isfahan where such a synthesis became the modus operandi culminating in Mullā Ṣadrā.
In addition to philosophy,
Quṭb
al-Dīn Shīrāzī wrote on mathematics, optics, astronomy, geography, physics and
medicine and was very interested in the classification of the sciences, a
subject we have included in this chapter. Here, we have included a section from
Shīrāzī’s Durrat al-tāj which deals with the
classification of the sciences, their division into the practical and the
theoretical and their subdivisions.
M. Aminrazavi
1. John Walbridge, The Science of Mystic Lights:
Quṭb
al-Dīn Shīrāzī and the Illuminationist Tradition in Islamic Philosophy (Cambridge, MA, 1992), pp. 18–19.
Durrat al-tāj
Translated for this volume by Mehdi
Aminrazavi from Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, Durrat al-tāj, li-ghurrat al-dībāj,
ed. Muḥammad
Mishkāt (Tehran, 1899–1906), pp. 22–23; 45–49; 60–62; 71–76; 79–81.
On the Virtues of the Sciences
Know that [intellectual] matters
[sciences] can be classified into four categories:
First is that which
rationality and wisdom approve, while the carnal soul (nafs)
and bodily desires do not, such as sickness, poverty, and failure in worldly
affairs. The soul dislikes such things but the rational faculty is in agreement
with them. Through the rules of demonstration and Qurʾānic evidence, it has become apparent that
every man who is of some closeness and proximity to God, Most High, will be
protected from worldly [dangers] just as a child is protected from water and
fire [by his parents]. Many of the worldly desires that are not granted are
God’s way of protecting His subjects from being engaged with anything other
than Him and it is for this reason that the rational faculty agrees with it but
the carnal soul (nafs) does not.
Second are those that the nafs favours but the intellect does not, such as the
physical pleasures that are contradictory to the sharīʿah (Divine law). Although the nafs favours such
things for the attainment of temporary pleasure, the rational faculty knows
that for a moment of pleasure, the permanent salvation of the other world will
be lost; so it does not agree with it.
Third are those that both
the rational faculty and the nafs favour and that is
science [knowledge].
Fourth is that which neither
the rational/ intellectual faculty nor the nafs
favour and that is ignorance. It is for this reason that the wise men have
said, ‘If a learned man would be called ignorant, he becomes heart-broken,
though he knows they have lied. Similarly, if they call an ignorant man
learned, he becomes happy though he knows that they have lied.’ Since knowledge
is a virtue of character and ignorance is a vice of character, both [the
ignorant and the learned] are dismayed by being called ignorant although it may
be a lie and become happy by having been called learned although it may be
untrue.
Now that this has become clear, know the
following:
There are numerous arguments
on the virtue of attaining knowledge through rational proofs (al-adillah al-ʿaqliyyah) and
traditional proofs (al-adillah al-naqliyyah).1
From each we shall offer a few examples. Traditional proofs, due to their
sacred and sanctified nature over rational proofs, are discussed first,
although rational proofs have [discursive] priority over the transmitted ones.
This is because the truths of transmitted statements are proven by discursive
reasoning.
For traditional proofs, we
begin first with that from the Qurʾān, second the Torah, third the Bible, fourth the Zabūr
(Psalms),2 fifth Ḥadīth and sixth the
works of past scholars. Although much can be said about that matter from the
Qurʾān, we
shall only mention ten reasons.
The intellectual reasons for
the virtue (faḍīlah) of knowing the sciences are also many, however, I will mention only
four of them:
First Reason
The virtue of everything lies in its
perfection. The virtue of the eyes lies in the perfection of the faculty of
sight, and the virtue of the ears is in the perfection of hearing and the
virtue of the hand lies in the perfection of the power of striking. Now that
this is understood, know that man is made up of two parts, spirit (rūḥ) and body (jasad). As Sanāʾī, peace be upon him, has
said:
Man is a unique mixture,
Higher than any high and
non-existent in between.
The perfection of the
body is due to the presence of the spirit therein, and the perfection of the
spirit is due to the presence of science and ḥikmah [in it]. It is for this reason that God Almighty in the Qurʾān calls science ‘spirit’
and states:
And the spirit came to
Him by our Command.3
Since the perfection of
man is in having a spirit [or soul] and the perfection of the soul [is in
pursuing] science and divine wisdom (ḥikmat), therefore, the
perfection of man is in possessing science and divine wisdom.
Second Reason
The superiority of animals to solid bodies
is in their consciousness, since animals and objects are similar with respect
to corporeality but different in terms of life which indicates the presence of
knowledge and consciousness. Since animals gain knowledge through their senses
and inanimate objects do not have consciousness, then necessarily animals
possess more virtue than inanimate objects. Amongst animals, those whose
sensory perceptions are fuller and stronger are superior to those whose senses
are weaker. For example, an animal that has the sense of sight is more virtuous
than one who does not have it, such as the scorpion.
Although men and animals
have in common the understanding of ‘particulars’, man is superior because of
his understanding of the universals. Man has knowledge of both particulars and
universals and possesses the means of understanding all of them and from this
point of view, he is more virtuous than all animals. This is firm evidence that
knowledge is the most virtuous of all things.
Third Reason
The virtue of adults in comparison to
children is in the former’s superior consciousness and not their faculty of
perception. Unlike the virtue of sight which is in seeing [physical] beauty,
intellectual understanding is more complete and more noble than sense
perception. Therefore, whoever has a more complete intellectual faculty is more
virtuous.
There are several reasons
for saying that intellectual understanding is more complete than sense
perception:
1) The senses cannot
perceive themselves while the intellectual faculty can perceive itself and has
consciousness of itself. Therefore, the intellectual faculty is more complete.
2) Sense perception can only
understand the appearance of things, whereas the intellectual faculty sees the
appearance of things, reflects [on them] and then understands their [inner]
reality. The inner reality (bāṭin) in relation to intellectual understanding is comparable to appearance
in relation to the senses and therefore it [intellectual understanding] is more
complete.
3) Sensory perception is
often mistaken. For example, people on a moving vessel consider the vessel to
be motionless but think that the seashore is moving, whereas it is obvious that
the ship is moving and the seashore is not. On a cloudy night the clouds move
towards the moon but it appears that the moon is following the clouds. [Sensory
perception] sees small things as large such as fire at night, and large things
as small as from a distance. There are many such examples, for instance, the
seeds of a black grape appear in water as black plums and a curve (appears in
water) as straight and a sphere as flat. Such are the examples of the
deceptions of sensory perception.
Since the critical faculty
of sensory perception is flawed, a judge is needed to distinguish correct from
false and it is the intellectual faculty that distinguishes between true
sensory data and the false ones. It is apparent that since the judge is
superior to that which is judged, then the intellectual faculty is more
complete than [and superior to] sense perception.
4) The power of intellectual
understanding is more permanent than the power of sense perception in that
intellectual power does not decay with the corruption of the body while the
power of sense perception deteriorates with the decaying of the body. There is
no doubt that a permanent consciousness is more perfect than a transient one.
5) The objects of rational
understanding are greater than the object of sensory perception for the objects
of rational understanding are limitless while the objects of sensory perception
are limited. Thus a limitless understanding is more perfect than a limited one.
6) The intellectual
comprehension separates the entities from what is added to them and understands
them in their pure form, contrary to sense perception that can understand
things only with the attributes added to them. For example, (sense perception)
cannot perceive a colour unless it is in association with something that has
length, width, distance and proximity. It is apparent, therefore, that
intellectual power is more complete than sense perception.
Fourth Reason
First know that virtuosity comes from
virtue which is a relational quality. If two things have something in common
and one has an added character, as in the saying ‘his knowledge is his
distinction’, and as it is said, ‘a horse is more virtuous than a camel’, this
is the case since they are common in carrying weight and different in power,
glory, fighting ability, beauty and sublimity of appearance.
Therefore, it is clear that
knowledge is virtue, and when attributed to animals it signifies qualitative
differences. The fighting ability of a horse is a virtue, but not in and of
itself (whereas knowledge is intrinsically virtuous) and is not an added
attribute. Knowledge (ʿilm) is the highest
Attribute of God and it is for this reason that the wise have agreed that this
attribute is divine and accounts for the dignity of the angels and prophets.
Even a clever horse is better than an unintelligent child. Therefore, knowledge
is virtuous in and of itself without being an attribute of anything else.
On the Reality of Knowledge and Whether
Concepts are Axiomatic or Acquired and other Related Discussions:
Are some concepts self-evident, without
any mental exertion, such as light and darkness, or are they acquired like
concepts such as jinns and angels that are known
through definition and description? This discourse includes three principles:
First Principle: On the reality of
knowledge and to which of the ten categories does it belong?
Scholars have disagreed strongly on this
subject. Some have said that knowledge belongs to the category of ‘relation’
since it is relative to the knower and the known. Others have said it belongs
to the category of ‘passion’ since it is an action that occurs in the soul.
There are those who say that it belongs to the category of ‘quality’ for it is one of the qualities of the essence of the soul
such as health and sickness, strength and will power. This is the right idea.
Avicenna, may God reward him
well, has adopted this view although inconsistently: in one place he says that
this category is non-existent and has interpreted it as something detached from
matter. While somewhere else he has said that it is an existential attribute
meaning that it is an embedded form in the substance of the rational soul that
corresponds to the essence of what is understood. Somewhere else, he has
defined this [category] as an attribute that is ‘relational’, and in yet a
different place he has argued that it is pure relation. However, in my opinion,
knowledge belongs to the category of quality.
Second Principle of the Second Chapter: On
whether the concept of knowledge is axiomatic or acquired? if acquired, is it
possible to define it?
Question: Some say that a concept is
axiomatic since a particular knowledge is necessary if we are to say anything
such as ‘that writer’. Since this knowledge is necessary, then absolute
knowledge which includes it is also necessary. It is impossible to conceive of
the whole without conceiving of its parts. If a part depends on something, then
the whole necessarily depends upon it. What is inclusive of a thing is
inclusive of the whole thing.
Answer: Any existing being
must have the knowledge of the particular. However, is it the attainment of the
knowledge of the particulars that is necessary, or is it the notion in the mind
(taṣawwur) of this
particular knowledge that is necessary? If you seek certitude through
attainment of acquiring something, its conception, or notion, is not
necessarily obtained, just as from the knowledge [of the concept] of hunger and
thirst, one does not necessarily have knowledge [gained through experience] of
[hunger and thirst]. Thus, from the knowledge of what is necessary, [the
conception] of a particular is not obtained.
Second Principle of the Third Chapter: On the
division of sciences into the philosophical and non-philosophical and dividing
of the non-philosophical into religious and non-religious
We say that knowledge that requires
theoretical reflection can be divided into two types: first is that whose
relation to all ages and nations remains the same and like astronomy,
arithmetic and ethics, it does not change with the changing of place, time,
nation and government.
The second is that whose
relation to different ages and nations does not remain the same, such as the
science of the jurisprudence of a religion which remains unchanged during a
particular period with regard to particular individuals, but then it changes
[when another religion is considered]. Also, [the same is true of] the grammar
of a language since that is a science in relation to the speakers of that
language and no one else. The first type of knowledge is called ḥikmah (philosophical) while the second type is not. Ḥikmah is the highest of all the sciences and the evidence for that is the
saying of God, most High, who states, ‘And I bestowed ḥikmah and therein lies abundant good.’ It is because of this that ḥikmah has been considered to be equivalent to scripture and as the Qurʾān says: The book and ḥikmah.
As for non-philosophical
science, if it is in accordance with the views of religion, it is religious;
otherwise it is non-religious. We, however, are concerned with the
philosophical and religious type, [and] philosophical science in particular
because this book is based upon it.1
The Third Principle of the Third Chapter: On the
division of the philosophical and religious sciences into different types
On the Divisions of Philosophy:
First know that philosophy
in the tradition of the gnostics is knowing of things as they really are and
the undertaking of tasks as one ought to in accordance with one’s ability so
that the human soul may attain perfection for which it yearns. Since this is
the case, philosophy is divided into two parts: intellectual and practical.
Intellection is the study of
the realities of beings, and judging their qualities and properties insofar as
they are axiomatic, in accordance with human ability. Praxis
is affiliated with action and the creating of objects (industry) is to
actualize what is in the domain of potentiality, provided it leads from
imperfection to perfection.
He in whose being these two
forms of knowledge are unified is a perfect ḥakīm and a learned man and his status is the highest among mankind. As it
has been said: ‘Wisdom comes from Him and in that bestowed wisdom lies great
good.’2
Since the science of ḥikmah is in knowing all things as they really are, then division within it
has to be in accordance with the division among beings.
All beings are of two types:
first are those whose existence is not contingent upon the will of human beings
and second are those whose existence is dependent upon the disposal and
ministration of man. Therefore, the knowledge of beings is also of two types:
first, knowledge of the first type and they call that ‘theoretical philosophy’
(ḥikmat-i naẓarī). The second type of
knowledge is ‘practical philosophy’ (ḥikmat-i ʿamalī). Theoretical philosophy in turn can be divided into two types. First
is knowledge of those beings in which matter plays no part in their existence
such as God, intellects, souls, unity, multiplicity, etc. Second is knowledge
of those things that unless they are materially oriented, cannot exist [by
themselves] and this itself can be divided into two categories:
1) Being materially oriented
is not necessary for them to be conceived or imagined, such as, even, odd,
square, triangle, sphere, circle, etc.
2)
They are known through being materially oriented such as minerals, plants, and
animals.
Therefore, theoretical
philosophy is of three types: first metaphysics, second, mathematics, and third
the natural sciences. The first one is the ‘highest science’, the second
‘middle science’ and third, the ‘lower science’. Each of these [categories]
includes several sub-sections, some of which possess major principles and some
minor ones.
The principles of the first
science (metaphysics) are two: one is the knowledge of God Almighty and those
who are close to Him and by His Command have become the instruments of creation
such as intellects, souls and the rules pertaining to the subsistence of their
operation. These they call Divine Knowledge.
Second is knowledge of the
universals since the existent beings attain their identity through them. Unity,
multiplicity, necessity, contingency, createdness or eternity and the like are
among them and [knowledge of them] is called metaphysics. The minor principles
are knowledge of prophecy, the Imams, and life after death, etc.
The principles of the
science of mathematics are of four types: first, knowledge of quantities and
the principles therein and they call that geometry. Second, is the knowledge of
numbers and their characteristics and they call that the science of numbers
(arithmetic). Third is the knowledge of the relationship between the position
of celestial objects to each other as well as their relationship to the
terrestrial objects, the measure of their movements and their size and this
they call the science of astronomy. The principles of astronomy, however, fall
outside of this category. Fourth is the knowledge of composition and its
intricacies and they call that the science of those realities that are
composed. If applied in sung harmonies, then because of their relationship with
each other and the duration of silence between the [phrases of] singing, they
call that the science of music.
The minor [branches] in the
science of mathematics are of several kinds such as optics, algebra, the
measurement of mass and area, etc. Also among the minor [branches] are addition
and subtraction in Indian numbers, the science of time measurement,
astronomical tables, calendars and the science of irrigation.
The principles of the
natural sciences are of eight types: First is the knowledge of the principles
of changeable phenomena such as time, place, motion, rest, limit, infinity,
etc. They call that ‘natural philosophy’ (samāʿ-i ṭabīʿī). Second, is the knowledge of the simple and compound substances and
principles of the worlds above and below and they call that nature and the
world. Third is knowledge of the principles and substances and changing of
patterns in matter and they call that the science of generation and corruption.
Fourth is the knowledge of the causes of events and their occurrence in the air
and on the earth such as: thunder, lightning, rain, snow, earthquakes, etc.,
and those they call the effects of the upper realm. The fifth is the knowledge
of the compound substances and the order of their mixture and they call that
the science of minerals. Sixth is the science of the vegetal objects and their essence and powers and that they call the science
of plants. Seventh, is the knowledge of those objects that move through their
will and the principles of their movements and their soul and the powers
therein and that they call the science of zoology. Eighth is the knowledge of
the human soul and how it rules the body and other mysteries and that they call
the science of the soul.
The minor [categories] of
the natural sciences are many, such as the science of medicine, the principles
of astronomy, agriculture, physiognomy, which makes inferences from people’s
bodily characteristics as to their temperament and moral qualities; also, the
science of dream interpretation, alchemy, the mysteries (ṭalismān), which studies the mixing of heavenly powers with earthly substances
in order to enrich them, and so can initiate many strange events in this world;
[then] the science of magic which is the mixing of earthly substances with each
other to generate power which initiates the occurrence of extraordinary events.
The science of logic,
composed by Aristotle, deals with the ways of knowing things and the method of
acquiring knowledge about that which is unknown. Logic is knowledge about
knowing and serves as a means for attaining other sciences and it is divided
into nine parts:
First is the Isagoge which is the principle
of logic that consists of discussion of types of terms and five universal
categories, genus, species, specific difference (differentia),
property and accident.
Second, the ten categories.
Third, on interpretation (Peri Hermeneias) which is an expression that consists of a
discussion with many propositions.
Fourth, Syllogism
Fifth: Demonstration.
Sixth: Dialectics
Seventh: Sophistry
Eighth: Rhetoric
Ninth: Poetry
The reason why the
categories are nine is because those analogies through which unknowns can be
attained consist of ‘the five created’ ones; they are: demonstration,
dialectic, rhetoric, poetry and sophistry.
Now, such a deduction
results either in assent or in imagination and the assent in turn is either
definitive or non-definitive and the definitive assent is either adequate to
reality or not. Thus the deduction which results in definitive assent adequate
to reality is called demonstration and if not adequate to reality but accepted
by general public; it is called dialectic, otherwise it is called sophistry.
Again, if a deduction results in non-definitive assent, it is called rhetoric
and if it results in imagination it is called poetry.
Practical
wisdom is knowing the prudence of intentional acts of the human being, that are
aimed at the attainment of man’s material well-being in this world as well as
in the Hereafter. [They] necessitate the attainment of perfection since they
are aimed towards it [perfection]. That too is divided into two types: First is
that which concerns each individual; second that which concerns society
collectively. The second part, too, is of two different types: First that which concerns a group
among whom there is partnership at home; second is that which is of concern to
a group among whom there is collaboration in the city, the province and the
state.
Practical wisdom is of three
types: First is the refinement of character [and the self], second, the
regulation of the household and third the government of cities. The benefits of
the wisdom of the self is that it recognizes the virtues and the value of
abstinence so that purity of the self may be obtained. The vices are also
recognized and restlessness [of the soul] is [calmed] and cleansed from the
soul. The benefit of the regulation of the household is that one learns that
cooperation is necessary between members of the household (between husband and
wife, son and daughter, owner and tenant) so the well-being of the members of
the home is achieved. The benefit of civic wisdom is in knowing how the
participation between groups and individuals needs to take place in order to be
mutually beneficial so that humankind can survive.
Know that some have divided
civic wisdom into two types: One is that which belongs to the government and
they call that politics. Second is that which addresses the domain of prophecy
and religious law and they call it ‘the science of divine laws’ (ʿilm-i
nawāmīs). There are those who have divided
practical wisdom into four types; this does not contradict those who have
divided them into three since two divisions can be included in one.
Some have divided the types
of theoretical wisdom into four in accordance with different types of what is
known. A ‘known’ is either contingent upon corporeal matter in its external
existence or not. In the first case if its conception in the mind in inseparable
from association with matter, then it is a natural entity and belongs to the
region of natural philosophy. But if it can be conceived as detached from
matter, then it is a mathematical entity and belongs to the area of
mathematical philosophy. However if its existence has no affiliation with
matter, then it is the Essence of God, Most Exalted, intellects, or souls or it
is concepts such as quiddity, unity, multiplicity, cause and effect, and the
like which belong to general metaphysics and philosophy. The latter type of the
knowledge of things is sometimes predicated upon immaterial entities and
sometimes upon material things but their predication on material things is
always accidental and not essential, for if it is predicated on material things
in essence, then that means it is not separable from matter and so it cannot be
applicable to immaterial realities.
1. Any proof that is based
either on the authority of the Divine Scripture or on the authentic tradition
of the Prophet i.e. sunnah.
2. The book revealed to the
Prophet David.
3. Qurʾān 42:52
1. The long paragraph which
follows is a perfunctory passage about the King of Māzandarān whose translation
has been omitted.
2. Qurʾān 2:268.
Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī
Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Asʿad Dawānī is one of the best-known figures of the period under
consideration in this volume. Born in the town of Dawān in the province of Fārs
in 830/1427, he studied in Shiraz where he soon became known as an accomplished
scholar and was chosen as mudarris or professor at
the al-Aytam madrasah. He was highly respected by the
political authorities of the day. He was chosen as judge (qāḍī) at the court of Uzun Ḥasan and Sulṭān Yaʿqūb and even reached the rank of minister. At the end of an active
intellectual and social life, he returned to his town of Dawān where he died
and was buried in 908/1502.
Dawānī was known as an
authority in Sunni kalām as well as philosophy and
his writings were highly respected during his own lifetime at the Ottoman court
in Istanbul. But in a late work entitled Nūr al-hidāyah
(Light of Guidance) he declared his attachment to Twelve-Imam Shiʿism. In any case he was
an influential figure in both the Sunni and the Shiʿi worlds. In addition to Persia and the
Ottoman world, he was also well known in Muslim India where his writings have
remained popular over the centuries to this day.
Some seventy of Dawānī’s
works have survived. They include works on both kalām
and falsafah. His most famous work is the Persian
treatise Lawāmiʿ al-ishrāq fī makārim
al-akhlāq (Flashes of Illumination on Praiseworthy
Ethics) better known as Akhlāq-i jalālī (Jalālian
Ethics). This work is based on Ṭūsī’s Naṣīrian Ethics but it intermingles the content of this work with ishrāqī
elements and also embellishes it with verses from the Qurʾān, ḥadīth and sayings of Sufi masters. He identifies the moral ideal with the
religious one, emphasizing that man’s ideal should be to become ‘the
vice-gerent of God on earth’ (khalīfat Allāh fi’l-arḍ) mentioned in the Qurʾān. His political
philosophy is based on ideal kingship and he includes a section in this work on
advice to kings. His metaphysics and cosmology remain, however, essentially
that of Ibn Sīnā based on ontology and the emanation of the First Intellect
from the Necessary Being and the other nine intellects from each other.
The
second most famous work of Dawānī is his commentary upon the Hayākil al-nūr of Suhrawardī entitled Shawākil
al-ḥūr (Forms of the Houris
of Paradise). This work became especially popular in India where it helped in
the spread of the School of ishrāq. In Persia itself
Dawānī carried out extensive debates with Ṣadr al-Dīn Dashtakī on philosophical
questions, especially ishrāqī doctrines. The Ishrāq hayākil al-nūr (Illumination upon ‘The Temples of
Light’) of Ṣadr al-Dīn’s son, Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī, is a trenchant rebuttal to
Dawānī’s commentary on the Hayākil al-nūr. Ghiyāth
al-Dīn was in fact in many ways opposed to Dawānī’s thinking and wrote several
criticisms of his writings.
Dawānī also wrote a number
of treatises on kalām issues including glosses upon
the Sharḥ al-tajrīd. He is also
the author of treatises on logic and mashshāʾī philosophy. In addition he was interested in the natural sciences. In
his Unmūdhaj al-ʿulūm (Samples of the Sciences) he speaks of magnetism and why a magnet
attracts iron filings and he also wrote a commentary upon the astronomical work
of Chaghmīnī.
Dawānī wrote in both Arabic
and Persian and even composed poems in both languages. He was also interested
in Sufism and wrote a commentary upon one of the ghazals
of Ḥāfiẓ.
In this chapter we have
included two treatises of Dawānī, first his commentary upon Suhrawardī’s Hayākil al-nūr (Temples of Light), and second his famous
treatise on ethics titled Akhlāq-i jalālī (Jalālian
Ethics). The first treatise discusses such topics as causality, motion,
corporeality and its relationship to cosmology and the role of light in this
context. What makes this treatise particularly interesting is that many of the
traditional metaphysical issues are presented and discussed within the context
of the ishrāqī tradition. Many of Suhrawardī’s
technical terms are used here to elucidate a whole range of philosophical
problems.
The second section deals
with politics and ethics. Dawānī begins by discussing the moral responsibility
that rests on the shoulders of the rulers and the consequences of misusing
political power. In doing so, he offers examples of the political conduct of
previous caliphs and sultans and draws conclusions pertaining to justice, laws
and desirable virtues in a ruler. This treatise should be regarded as a work of
didactic literature in which a philosopher offers moral and political advice to
those in power.
S. H. Nasr
COMMENTARY ON SUHRAWARDĪ’S ‘TEMPLES
OF LIGHT’
Sharḥ hayākil al-nūr
Translated for this volume by Carl W.
Ernst from Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Saʿd al-Dīn Asʿad al-Ṣiddīqī al-Dawānī, Shawākil al-ḥūr fī
sharḥ hayākil al-nūr, ed. Muḥammad ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq and Muḥammad Yūsuf Kūkan
(Madras, 1373/1953), pp. 147–193.1
The Fifth Temple
Demonstrating that the Chain of Events is
Infinite, and that they Depend on a Continuous, Perpetual Motion
Chapter One: On the proof of the circular motion of the heavens, and that their
motion is voluntary, not natural
1. Know that every
contingent being is temporal, i.e., it is what comes into existence
after it was not; [it] requires a
cause, or something that sustains its existence, whether as a condition,
an instrument, or an invalidating prohibition, [that is]
contingent. This is necessary, because if all that
sustains it were eternal, it would be eternal, because of the impossibility of
the lack of an effect for a complete cause.2 This
reasoning applies to the contingent cause, because it also requires a
contingent cause, and so on ad infinitum. It is sufficient,
or rather required, that the chain of contingent causes
extended infinitely, inasmuch as it will not have an origin; for the
postulated contingent origin is covered by this reasoning,
just as was established. Thus it is not an origin, since this would be a
contradiction of the postulate.
2. It is established that in
existence there are contingent beings that are subsequently renewed without
interruption. This certainly leads to that which requires renewal and continuity with its own essence. The thing that
requires renewal for its essence is motion. Now time, even if it
requires renewal, renewal is not essential to it; rather, it is so for its
locus, which is motion, for time is the quantity of motion inasmuch as its
parts are not unified. The property of the heavens is to be
correctly described in terms of uninterrupted circular continuous motions, and
to be appropriately the cause of contingent beings without ceasing. Thus
it is in the text that we have seen.
Suhrawardī’s saying, ‘to be
correctly described’ is the subject of the predicate ‘the property of the
heavens’, and ‘circular’ is the adjective of ‘motions’. It is possible that
‘circular’ is a predicate after the predicate. The meaning of this sentence is
that linear motions undoubtedly end, if the existence of an infinite extent is
precluded in logical proofs regarding limited distance. But linear motions are
not continuous in terms of retrograde motion and curvature. Logical proof does
not explain both kinds of linear motion in terms of rest. The author does not
completely believe this, as is mentioned in The [Book of
Encounters and] Conversations,1 and Plato and other philosophers deny
it. This is because linear motion is either natural, by compulsion, or
voluntary. If it is natural, it must cease when it reaches its natural goal. If
it is by compulsion, it is only possible in terms of the [four] elements,
since, as they maintain, there is no influence in the heavens.
3. Their argument implies
either that the compulsion is from a compeller or his volition. If the first,
[the motion] must cease when the compeller reaches his natural goal, and if the
second, it must cease also. Sub-lunar entities capable of voluntary motion (i.e.,
the species of animals) cannot sustain [motion] perpetually, because their
actions depend upon bodies, nor are their bodies perpetual, since their
elemental compounds must dissolve. Thus [it is stated] in [The
Wisdom of] Illumination and in its commentary.2 I
say that this is only achieved if the compeller is a moving body that moves the
compelled object with a motion that is in principle not concomitant. But a
necessity is concomitant with the void, compelling bodies in their motions, as
in the case of the urine specimen bottle when it is filled and then poured out
in water, or also a man who casts a stone upwards and follows through with his
hand, and the stone keeps moving. Would that I knew why its cessation is
necessarily connected to impossibility in the world of the elements and to
dissolution in compounds.
4. There is no individual
body in the elements that is perpetual so that it could undergo perpetual
linear motion and continue in the same state. It is not conceivable that linear
motion should reach successive individuals. This is common to both
perspectives, and it only refutes what some philosophers have said, that time
is a single thing joined to another. But it must be connected to something similar
in the single connection. From these introductory remarks
it is demonstrated that linear motion is not appropriately called perpetual or
continuous; rather, it is appropriate that the latter be circular, but the
elements do not sustain perpetuity, while celestial order does. It is
established that the proper motion that is perpetual and continual is this
circular motion of the heavens, but the argument to establish this point is
long, and space does not permit it.
5. This,
i.e., the circular motion of the heavens, is the cause of
the events in our world, the world of the elements, and that is by the
preparation of matter for receptivity to temporal form. The likeness for that
is that the sun rises over water, gradually warming it until cold is completely
eliminated. It becomes subtle and the form of water is deprived of its matter,
becoming air by its separate radiation on the airy form that is upon it. Then
the air is heated further until it becomes subtler, and the form of water is
deprived of its matter, as it radiates upon it the form of fire. Let it not be
thought that its preparation is only through the cause of the perceptible
natural qualities belonging to its rays. Rather, these are hidden connections,
the depth and detail of which are unknown except to the Upholder of the heavens
and the earths. If you wish, then follow the influences experienced in
conjunctions and other astrological matters. The years will see wonders that
dazzle minds.
6. He confirms the foregoing
by saying, since the First Cause does not change,
because it is impossible for it to undergo change, and it has been demonstrated
that it is not subject to an attribute that changes it. So
it is not a cause for contingent motions. The eternity of these motions
is dictated by the eternity of their complete cause. Were it
not for the motions of the heavens, the origination of the contingent would not
occur, because of the impossibility of contingent beings ever depending
on the eternal, as you have learned. There is no doubt that by the addition of
a renewed thing [i.e., motion] the complete cause produces these contingent
beings.
7. Thus he demonstrated that
their motions are voluntary, saying, The motions of the
heavens are not natural, for the heaven departs from every point which it
sought by the essence of the motion with which it tended. That which is moved by nature stops when it reaches the position
it seeks, since it does not flee by nature from that which was its desire.
[1] [He says] ‘by nature’, for it is not possible that it be compelled; were it
compelled, it would be in accord with the compeller, and the motions would be
uniform in direction, speed, and delay, but that is not the case, as
astronomical observations attest. [2] It is said that it has been proved that
what lacks a source of natural inclination does not accept compulsory motion,
and it is proved also that the heavens lack a source of natural inclination
because they are not subject to linear inclination, and natural domain, by the
nearest of paths, which is the straight line. [3] It is also said [that
heavenly motion is not compelled] because compulsion is evil, and there is no
evil in the heavens, only pure good.
8. Are you aware that the
substance of these three points is open to objection? [1] Regarding the first
point, it is as just described [i.e., that heavenly motion is incompatible with
compulsion].1 [2] Regarding the second point, it is [open to objection] because the
proof of the first premise is as they have mentioned. After its premises are
accepted, it only demonstrates that what lacks in its essence the source of a
certain natural inclination is not subject to compelled motion. Then that which
is proven demonstrates that in the heavens there is no linear inclination. This
does not require that they contain no source of any inclination whatever,
because of the possibility that they contain the source of another, circular
inclination; so it was said. I say that it is possible to reply that there is
impeding inclination. If on the one hand it is linear, he has shown its
impossibility, in that linear inclination does not in principle impede the
circular, as appears in the sphere rotating around its centre [while]
descending from above. If on the other hand it is another circular
[inclination], this is also absurd, because it is already established that
nature does not require circular inclination. But the likelihood remains that
the impeding circular inclination is voluntary, and that there is perceptible
circular motion [of the planetary sphere] to the extent that there is an excess
of compelled inclination over it. [3] Regarding the third point, it has two
unproven premises that are not evident [i.e., the evil of compulsion and
absence of evil in the heavens]. I say that if its motion is compelled, if the
compulsion is perpetual, this would require cessation of nature from its
activity. If it is completely suspended, it requires the cessation of the
motion that preserves time. But it has been shown that time has a unitary essence
and is connected and single. Its preserving motion must be thus. Since it was
established that the motions of the heavens are neither natural nor compelled, its motion can only be voluntary. In some manuscripts after
these words, one finds the phrase, ‘thus they are living and intelligent.’2
Chapter Two. On the proximate contact belonging to celestial motion
9. The source emanating
the motion of heaven is its sphere, because of the proof that its motion
is voluntary. There is no doubt that voluntary motion is connected to the
moving soul, and because contact belongs to the motion of the body, it is not
possible that it be an intellect, since the meaning of intellect is the essence
completely separated from matter and its relationships. And
so its motive action belongs to the motion of the body of the heaven.
This is loose in expression, and it means the body of the moved heaven. [It] is a voluntary motive action, and the motion of the body of
heaven by its motive action is compelled motion, because the moving
object, which is the separate soul, is not the essence of the body, nor is it a
part of it, since it is external. If we consider the body of
heaven and its soul as things isolated from one another, then their motion is
by the motive action of its soul which is external to it. So their motion is compelled in relation to the soul, as
mentioned; the feminine subjects [‘their’] refer to the heavens or to heaven. And if we consider them together as a single thing, its motion is
voluntary. This is because its origin is not something external to the
totality.
10. I say that this is
something that we do not run across in the theory of anyone else. It does not
derive from a philosophical reality, since the like of this expression borders
on natural motions. This is because it is said, when referring to the body of
the earth in a comparison, that it is a thing separate from its special form;
its motion is compelled, since its source is external to that which is moved.
This is particularly so in terms of what the author maintains regarding the
existence of special forms as causal conditions for the body, which is, on
first consideration, the extended known substance. For the essence of the body
is then established without it [the soul]. It [the body] is only produced from
the fact that it contains the species of bodies from earth, water, etc.
Regarding what he mentions, the former argument will be compulsion eternally,
and the latter argument will be compelled motion without impeding inclination.
Both of them are contrary to the agreement of philosophers. If that is
admitted, then because it is not possible that there be another compeller than
the soul, it is not voluntary. But since its motion is voluntary, it is living and intelligent by necessity, since volition
is not experienced without these characteristics.
11. And
the heavens need no sustenance, since nothing is digested by them;
otherwise, they would be subject to rectilinear motion [from desire]. Regarding
this proposition, and its ancillary definite propositions, however, the proof
is based upon it. But all the heavens [may be considered to] share in these
[propositions] by way of intuition. [Nor do they need]
growth, since it is a kind of nourishment, but that
depends on rectilinear motion, which is impossible for it. [Nor
do they need] to beget, since it also is a kind of nourishment, and
because the object of generation is the preservation of the species through a
succession of individuals. Rather, it [does not?] need it insomuch as it does
not undergo continual individuation, for the individuals of the heavens are
perpetual, not undergoing corruption. Thus they do not need to beget their
like. Nor do they have a desire, since the object of
that is preservation of the individual or the species from corruption, and they
are safe from that. Nor do they have a rival in space
or nearby, nor anything to resist them in existence,
so they have no anger, since the object of anger is
guarding against the rival or that which resists one’s desire in general. Anger
is appropriate either to the body that is acted upon and changes from a
suitable condition to an unsuitable one, then returns to the suitable condition
and enjoys it, or to that which conceives of a situation that requires it to
depart from a suitable condition, so that it longs to reject it. Their motion does not tend to that which is low, since it has no
power over them. The noblest is not moved by the lowest; otherwise the
lowest would have influence upon the noblest by its position as agent. For the
final cause is an efficient cause for the activity of the agent.
12. Thus when we purify ourselves from the preoccupations of the body
with the aid of subtle disciplines tempered for the soul that is incited toward
submersion in the desires of the world of lies and darkness, we consider the might of the Real, and the Glory. ‘Glory’ (kharrah) is a Persian word, the meaning of which, according
to The Commentary on [the Wisdom of] Illumination [by
Quṭb
al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī], is transmitted ‘from Zarathustra of Azarbaijan, the author
of the Book of Zand, the perfect prophet, the excellent sage: it is the light
that dawns from the essence of God the transcendent. By this one person rules
over another; by its aid everyone has power over an action or product. That
which is restricted to the wise kings is called “the glory of kings (kayān kharrah).”1 As he says in the The
Tablets of ʿImād, ‘The conquering
and blessed king Kay Khusraw established sanctification and worship, and he
received2 the ability to speak with the holy spirit; the hidden world spoke to
him, and he ascended in his soul to the highest world, inscribed with the
wisdom of God. The lights of God confronted him directly, and from them he
realized the meaning known as ‘the kings of glory’, which is God himself. All
necks were humbled to him.’3 Nonetheless, they call it that because khawar [i.e., kharrah] in their
language is light, and they connect it to the kayān,
who are the emperors in their language, with the genitive object preceding the
subject, as is customary in this language. He describes glory as expansive, because that implies expansiveness of the soul
and the vast breadth of its comprehension in terms of knowledge and influence.
13. [It
is] the light emanating from his presence, that is, from the presence of
the Real, either from his essence, or from his lights that are separate from
existent things, and by that light every existent being is guided to the
perfection appropriate to it. We find in our souls shining
flashes of light, and dawning illumination; we witness lights, and we obtain
our desires, or fulfil our needs for information about hidden things,
and control over the world of images and the elements. In one manuscript, it
says [we obtain our] states,
but this appears to be a mistake.4 And what is your
opinion of the persons who are spherical bodies, these [that are] noble of form, on
account of being in the natural shape that is the best of shapes. In one
manuscript it says [instead of ‘of form’] ‘divine’, meaning sanctified beyond
the opposing qualities that are the source of defects, or [sanctified] in or in
love with the divine lights. That fits what he says later about the divine
lovers.5 [Having] perpetual forms or eternal forms, with fixed
bodies that do not move from their places, that are safe
from corruption from the corruption of these eternal forms because of their distance from the world or opposition—
this is a cause for [all of these] three or four propositions. Since nothing distracts them from the world of light, the transcendental dawning of the lights of the transcendent God1 are not interrupted for them, nor [are] the benefits of
divine graces. This means that the motions do not belong to a
concupiscent or irascible cause, but to the attainment of a holy and delightful
thing, which is the dawning of lights from their sources above. These most
resemble the motions issuing from the soul stripped of the connections of
nature, on account of the holy gleams and intimate dawnings, as the masters of
ecstasy and witnessing attest. If the object of their desire
were not incessant, their movements would cease. Inevitably, the
cessation of their motion would be necessitated by their attaining the desired
goal. If these motions ceased even once, this would require that no event come
into existence from it at all, because the first event that takes place from it
undoubtedly will be an unlimited event, and there is no event at all between
cessation and its occurrence, by law. The chain of interrupted events is not a
required cause, for otherwise it would be connected, so understand that.
14. So
each of the heavens has a beloved in the higher world.
One beloved differs from another, and that is due to the difference in their
motions in terms of quantity and direction. It is the
victorious light, and it is its cause and the one that extends its light;
that is, it is the lord of its limited species in its individual. [The beloved is] the intermediary between
it [the heaven] and the first light that is transcendent; by its presence it
witnesses his glory and attains his blessings and his lights. From every
illumination arises a motion related to that illumination. Even if the
reality of that relationship is unknown to us, and we are in the world of
alienation, still the soul within us is overjoyed, to the point of dancing and
clapping. For each motion another illumination stands ready.
Just as man stands ready with the prescribed legal motions of worship for the
holy dawnings, so the realizers of truth among the people of transcendence may
witness in their souls a holy simulating delight, being moved to dance, clap,
and turn. By this motion they stand ready for the dawning of other lights until
that state ceases in them from some cause, as is indicated by the experiences
of the wayfarers. That is the secret of listening to music (samāʾ) and, for the divine
[sages], its principle leading to its establishment, so that one of the leaders
of this group [the Sufis] said, ‘The wayfarer in the assembly of listening to
music is opened up to things that are not found in forty-day retreats’. It is
related of Plato that whenever he wanted to pray, he moved the power of his
soul by listening to appropriate voices, when he wanted to be moved by the
power of wrath or love.2 One of the great Sufis said that the
relationship of music to the power of the soul is the relationship of the flint
and steel to fire; therefore they have prohibited music to beginners and those
engrossed in bodily pleasures, since it incites in them the desires hidden
within. The renewal of illuminations is perpetuated by the
renewal of [celestial] motions, and the renewal of motions is perpetuated by
the renewal of illuminations. But there is alternation in this
[process], for the motion produced by illumination is not the motion prepared
for it.1
15. I say that the proof of
this is that they [the celestial motions] have a unitary continuously renewed
illumination from which a single unitary continuous motion is produced. But
here there are two motions, one belonging to the soul of the heavens in the
illuminative qualities, and the other belonging to the body in its position.
Each of these motions presupposes [that the two motions are] parts. If the
parts are proportional to each other, the situation is as he described.2
But if the two motions are considered as being unitary, then the first is the
cause for the existence of the second, and the second is the cause for the
subsistence of the first. There is no difficulty here, inasmuch as the acquired
intellect is a condition for the production of the intellect in act, and that
is a condition for the subsistence of the acquired intellect. By this double chain, the production of contingent beings is
perpetuated in the sublunar world. Their motion prepares matter for the
reception of contingent beings, as indicated previously and subsequently. Were it not for their illuminations and their motions, only
limited amounts of the generosity of God most high would be produced.
These are the lights and bodies that are the fixed entities.3 Emanation would be interrupted since at that time there
would be no production of the contingent beings that are unlimited in terms of
their origin and that do not comprehend either their goal or the victorious
lights. If the proofs do not demonstrate the absurdity of the chaining as an
impossibility, neither do they affirm it, due to the possibility that they [the
contingent beings] proceed with unordered accidental distinctions, because
illuminative intuition indicates that light does not proceed from every light.
This is because descent through the levels of light makes the light defective,
to the degree that it ends as a weakened victorious light near the level of
souls, lacking the power to give existence to another light.
16. I say that here is a
discussion known to some, namely the accidental temperaments containing
unlimited levels between the extremes of neglect and excess. Perhaps it will be
objected that the levels of the lights are combined in existence, but that is
not possible, nor does this affirm it, due to their hierarchy of strength and
weakness. Gradation occurs among them in a manner contrary to the levels of
accidental temperament; their combinations in existence are unlimited entities.
17. I say that for this
reason it is necessary to affirm the separate souls as the essence of what he
maintains, based on limiting the distinction between the lights in terms of
strength and weakness. It necessarily follows that the difference between lights
is not absolute, nor is it limited to them at certain times. It is possible
that they proceed from the transcendent, distinguished by its accidental
relationship with its effects. Unlimited lights may differ in terms other than
strength and weakness, but in principle lights will not be on [the same] level.
That proof is not complete though it does answer the question, explaining that
the distinction between the lights is only in terms of strength and weakness.
18. The most likely argument
here is that the difference between the lights utterly separated from matter
and its connection is limited to [the lights] themselves. Or the difference
between lights joined to matter, regardless of whether it is a condition in
them or connected to them like souls, is nonetheless a quality not limited to
them. Spontaneity, despite its accidental character, decrees that the
difference between levels of light perceived by the individual lies in strength
and weakness, as with bodies equal in receiving light with a unified
relationship to luminosity. Lights having obstacles then differ individually
because of the difference in their locations, despite their lack of difference
in strength and weakness. It is possible that he means that only a limited
quantity is then produced from the forms of bodies. Since
there is no change in the essence of the first transcendent that would require
change, and change in the effect when the cause remains in a fixed
condition is impossible, thus, by generosity of the Real,
the production of contingent beings persists, by the ecstasy of divine lovers.
The commentary on generosity will follow below [37]. ‘Divine lovers’ refers to
those stripped of material connections to the extent possible for them, as is
said of the divine solitaries seeking perfection, or the lovers of the divine
lights, which are the intellects that resemble them. The
empyrean heaven’s motions necessarily benefit the lower ones as the
secondary intention and accidentally, not as the primary intention and
essentially. The supreme does not act upon the lowly, since it has no power to
do so in itself, as was mentioned. That is similar to the intercourse between a
male and a female caused by concupiscent love, the purpose of which is the
production of offspring, despite its not being intended by them.
19. This
is not to say that the motions of the heavens give existence to things.
For then they would vanish when their effects came into existence. So how could
an impermanent entity give existence to a permanent entity such as human souls
and elemental forms? But they do produce potentialities,
not in the sense that they give existence to these potentialities, for they are
also things, but rather in the sense that they are a condition for their
production.
20. The
first reality gives to each thing that which is appropriate to its potentiality,
since the transcendent is not miserly about that, rather, it is the eternal
absolute whose emanation does not cease except according to the capacity of the
recipient.
21. If you said that the
potentialities are also from its existence and its emanation, as I indicated,
and there is no miserliness in the transcendent, then there is no cause for
their differentiation.
22. I replied that the
difference in potentialities is from the [heavens], on account of the
difference in the preceding potentialities, and so on without end; the chain
continues throughout contingent beings. This is not a problem, due to the lack
of combination of their individual instances as they [the heavens] settle it in
its place.
23. I say that the proof is
that elemental matter has a motion in the potential quality, just as the
heavens have a directional motion in their bodies, and an illuminative,
qualitative motion in their souls. The elemental, potential motion is dependent
on directional heavenly motion, and it is dependent on the motion of the soul,
mentioned in connection with that which precedes its settling. Each of these
three motions is a continuous unitary motion, as we have indicated previously.
If their unitary character is distinct [from one another], their order is as
mentioned. If they must have parts, every subsequent part is dependent on the
preceding one.
24. If that is agreed, then
we say that if the question concerned the cause of the partial potentialities,
the reply is what was mentioned at first [22]. If it concerns the cause of
potential unitary motion related to matter, the reply is that the quiddity of
this matter is restricted to this motion; that is why one of the philosophers
among the masters of unveiling and vision said that existent partial
potentialities are created dependent on uncreated universal potentialities. You
will intuit from a kind of summary the secret of the difference occurring
between individuals in terms of defect and perfection. Further discussion on
the subject will come later on.
25. Since
the agent does not change, its effect is renewed by the renewal of the
potentiality of [the agent’s] recipient. It is possible that a single thing
renews its influence, but there is a difference according the conditions of the
recipient, though the difference [of conditions] is not due to the different
condition of [the agent]. By joining the conditions of the recipient to
the agent, diverse causes are produced that require diverse effects. Then he
alluded to some points to bring it closer to the mind of the students and gave
some examples in such a way that the imagination would follow the command of
the intellect and in this way he prevented the intrusion of illusion, as was
his method of teaching, because his discourse is intended for the seekers of
knowledge whose aim is to beautify the soul by spiritual perfection, not by
following polemical discussions and disputation.
26. Let
this man consider as a hypothesis a person who is unmoved and unchanging, and,
to continue the simile, opposite him are mirrors differing in terms of greater
or lesser size and greater clarity or turbidity. In them there appear from him,
i.e., from that person, forms differing in terms of lesser
or greater size, and perfect appearance of colour or lack of it. The person
whose form it is does not change, and the difference is only in the receptacles
that are different. The person is in the position of the cause, and the mirrors
are in the position of the material bases. Their difference is in
characteristics, like the difference in potentialities. The difference in forms
is difference in forms and accidents. The Real (glory be to
His Greatness) has connected fixity, that is, fixed entities with fixed
entities, and contingency with contingency or
contingent beings with contingent beings. When divine grace decrees the
production of contingent beings, the chain of existentiation is limited to the
entity fixed in essence, necessitating difference in connections and subsequent
relations. That is perpetual circular motion; from the perspective of its
perpetuity, it depends upon an eternal cause, and from the perspective of its
contingency, contingent beings depend upon it.
27. In detail, that which
comes into existence from motion is a continuous unitary entity, which is the
intermediary between the demonstrated or assumed origin, and the goal, in one
of two aspects. This is a single person who is compelled by a difference in
relationships in terms of the limits assumed in distance, until, when it is
considered in terms of one of these limits, it becomes the above-mentioned
intermediary, which is existence in the middle term. Considering that this
accident exists in that limit from the middle term, which is perpetual entity,
considering that its essence is contingent, and considering that this
accidental relationship is in accordance with necessity, then from the
perspective of the fixed essence it depends upon the fixed intellect, while
from the perspective of relationships subsequent to it, contingent beings
depend upon it.
28. This is the summary of
their argument, and it will not surprise you that the argument persists in the
chain of these subsequent relationships to the eternal essence and that it is
of no use at all. It is said that they are assumed entities that do not
presuppose an external cause, but there is no doubt that they are not pure
assumptions, like the evenness of three. How shall the like of that become
probable for an external existent? Rather, they have a kind of existence,
regardless of whether it is in act in the entity itself, or in one of the
levels of potency, or call it what you will. But we know that the mover at the
time of reaching an assumed limit of distance has a condition that he did not have
prior to this time, and which he will not have afterward. Similarly, there is
no doubt that an existent thing, whether in act or in a level of potency,
derives from something like what has just been said. The point of the proof of
this position is that it is said that the source for every one of these
relationships is the relationships prior to it. Thus, if unitary continuous
motion is considered in its unity, it is fixed and dependent on fixed causes.
If subsequent relationships are considered, they assume parts, to the degree
that every one of these relationships is dependent on the one preceding.
29.
It is said [by Ibn Kammūnah],1 ‘It is as though this motion is
continuous and connected, having no parts in fact; rather, in accordance with
the assumption, the chain of contingent beings is thus unitary and connected.
The sound intellect decrees that the continuity and connection of the effect
follow upon the continuity and connection of the cause. From this it appears
that non-existence of the contingent is not real non-existence in the sense of
external elimination of the quiddity. Rather, it is relative [non-existence]
which is something being devoid of something else, as in the transference of
the quality from the qualified thing. So it is said, ‘this is devoid of that.’
Or, just as the thing seen is distanced from the seeing person, it is said of
that thing, ‘it does not exist in the perception’. This is in reality change
and transference even if it is said to him, ‘it is devoid by way of metaphor’,
and the concepts of these ideas are subtle.’
30. I say that we have
already stated something similar in discussing the dependence of elemental
potentialities on heavenly motions, and I have seen the like of that in the
Plato’s writings. You are aware of what he mentioned regarding the connection
of contingent beings and that they lack actual parts and cannot be understood
by the human mind according to the postulate of their contingency. For it is
not conceivable to take them as supposed parts of a unitary entity, but this
theorist [Ibn Kammūnah] asserts the eternity of the soul, as he explains in his
books, and this is also reported of Plato.
31. And
it, the transcendent, is the source and the goal in
this connection. That is, inasmuch as the transcendent is the efficient
cause for the system of the world and the order of existence, it also is its
goal, and the goal is commonly known to be that for which action is taking
place as an essential consequence. If it is attributed to the actor in terms of
effecting the act, it is called purpose with respect to the actor, and an
efficient cause in relation to the action. But goal is more common, for it
sometimes refers to that which is not attributed [to the actor], and it differs
in this sense from purpose.
32. The actions of God the
Transcendent are not caused by purposes, because of the preceding [argument],
in that the final cause is the efficient cause for the activity of the actor.
This is what makes the actor an actor. If this were the case [i.e., if God had
purposes], the necessary [being] would be defective in its essence, seeking
perfection through another, which would be the final cause. Surely there are
goals, in the sense of uncounted wisdoms and advantages known to God, but they
do not have influence over His Essence by making Him an actor. These goals
refer to completing existent beings with their primary perfections, and to
perfecting them afterward with secondary perfections, so that they resemble
their highest origin to the extent conceivable and appropriate for them. That
is only set in order by a love demanding the protection of existent perfection,
and longing for absent perfection, whether voluntary or
natural. Love produces in every existent being the state in which its
perfection exists, and at the same time the state in which it is lacking.
Longing is restricted to the lack of [perfection]. Therefore you see that Ibn
Sīnā and other great philosophers have established that love is diffused in all
beings, and beings in their totality seek similarity to their origin as much as
possible, for they love it. Love is the inclination toward unification with
something, not for some reason, but because the Transcendent in its essential
perfection is the goal of goals. It is that which is pursued by all and which
all seek, i.e., they seek similarity to it and proximity to it. It is said that
love requires the consciousness of the difference in levels. This demonstrates
that all existent beings have a certain consciousness differing in level
according to the difference in the levels of love. So know and intuit this.
33. Here ‘goal’ is employed
in the well-known sense mentioned previously, requiring some effort, since it
means that God most High is a goal in that one becomes assimilated to it as we
indicated. You should posit the goal here in the sense of the final cause; and
the meaning of being the final cause is that the essence of the transcendent is
sufficient in its own existence of its attributes. So consider both aspects
[i.e., efficient cause and final cause], and choose for yourself that which is
agreeable. So that the good is perpetuated—the entity
that produces something else, considering it as being an influence upon it, or
more appropriate and more proper for it, is called a good; considering that the
production of a thing requires a certain detachment from potency, [it is
called] a perfection.
34. From al-Ishārāt
(The Book of Indications) [by Ibn Sīnā] and its commentary, it is understood
that perfection is that which is actually extant, and the good relative to a
thing is the perfection that this thing seeks by its primary potentiality. By
the primary [potentiality], it guards against acquiring the vices that man
seeks by his secondary potentiality, which is an extraneous factor to the
primary potentiality that one has according to one’s nature. But it [i.e.,
perfection] will not be a good in relation to the essence of the man, rather it
will be in relation to the essence along with that extraneous factor, not
without it. In this manner perfection is absolutely more common. Their previous
position [33] is that the thing that produces something else, considered as
being an influence, is called a good, and considered as detached from potency,
[it is called] a perfection. This does not deny that perfection is more common,
and it does not require that the two [perfections] be equal, nor is this
concealed. Thus the good here is existence and the perfections that follow from
it. And so that emanation is established. This is the
act of an actor who acts perpetually without variation or purpose. So that His mercy does not reach a limit among the fixed
entities, nor cross over them to the subsequent entities or by a limit among
contingent beings. Its existence is neither imperfect,
defective, nor is it interrupted at either extreme.1
35.
It is possible that his statement, ‘so that the good is perpetuated’ [33],
indicates the perpetual entities, and this is a result that connects fixity
with fixity. His statement, ‘so the emanation is established’ [34], indicates
the contingent beings. The perpetuity of the act only appears in its bringing
them into existence. His saying, ‘so that its mercy does not reach a limit [at
either extreme],’ indicates a denial that its mercy has a beginning and an end.
Then his statement, ‘its existence is not imperfect,’ is not confined to
contingent beings. His statement, ‘nor defective,’ is not confined to the fixed
entities. His statement, ‘nor is it interrupted at either extreme,’ means that
contingent beings have no beginning point nor end point.
36. But it is apparent that
he did not intend that. He and those belonging to the rank of the great
philosophers do not refrain from repetition to emphasize the point. Their
purpose is to shorten the journey to the good and to perfection. Anything that
is easier as a path to its attainment, and which sets the student upon it, is
approved by them. A certain scholar has explained something similar to what we
have mentioned in glosses to The Commentary on the
Indications. Anyone who follows the sources and origins of the initiates
has witnessed what we have mentioned, and has condemned the painstaking efforts
studied by the moderns from the commentaries on philosophy of [the initiates];
they write down their meaning only in terms of what they know and according to
what they prefer, though they [the moderns] lack the experience that is proper
to the faculties of [the initiates], and they consider unlawful the dawns
kindled from the emanation of their illumination.1
37. Then he begins to
explain generosity, after repeating his reference to it [in 18], saying, ‘Generosity is to give that which is sought, or that which
deserves to be given. The failure to mention by whom it is sought is caused by
the passive verb which does not need it.’2 The omission of its
being one of the relative entities is only in relation to the one by whom this
is sought.3 [It is] not for compensation as an existing
thing, that is, even if one acquired something praiseworthy or rejected its
opposite. He fails to mention the postulated subject because he does not need
to, since the compensation is not all property or even anything else, including
praise, eulogy, and freedom from blame, as Ibn Sīnā says in ‘The Indications’. One who acts for compensation, though he achieve it, is yet poor,
because he seeks to produce by that act compensation, the existence of which
precedes its non-existence, so he needs the compensation
for his perfection. The rich one does not need anything
other than himself in his essence and his perfection, that is, his real
attributes beyond the relative ones, and the pure relationships by which and
without which he is connected. They have no distinction in essence, nor is he
related to them, though they have perfection. In that matter it may suffice you
to consider the transformation of the relationship between Zayd and what is
external to him, it being left or right according to its external transfer
while Zayd remains in the same state. This describes one who is rich in the
absolute sense. One who does not need any specific thing in his essence and his
perfection is rich in relationship to himself, though he may be poor in
relation to another. The one who is absolutely rich,
that is, rich in relation to everything except himself, who is not sullied at
all by even a particle of poverty, is the one whose
existence is from his essence. Then his perfections are also from his
essence, but his very essence as described. He is the
manifest light of lights in his essence, which manifests to what is
other than him, that is everything except him. That is a spark from his light,
or a spark from a spark of his light, etc. He has no purpose
in his creation, that is, no entity is ascribed to him in action. Rather, his essence possesses the emanative source for mercy
by his essence, by awareness and will. These two [attributes] are the very
essence in connection with what has proceeded from it and the benefits of
wisdom that order it, unlike the action of nature which is unaware of what
proceeds from it. He is the absolute king; to him belongs
the essence of everything, though his essence does not belong to anything.
‘The light of lights’ is such because everything is either from him or from
that which is from him. The goal of the act regarding him is his being an actor
for [the goal]. The causation of all things is rightly his, by the fact that
the being of things is from him. So it is stated in The Commentary on al-Ishārāt.1
38. It is possible that this
is stated because the essence of all things is from Him, and He is their
existentiating cause. They depend upon Him, they are His possession, with or
without intermediary. Nothing else but Him has access to Him. The slave and
what belongs to him belong to his master. You may have learned from one of the
principles of [The Wisdom of] Illumination that the
stronger light cannot possibly be influenced by the weaker light, or else it is
clear in the second introduction [to that work].2
39. It is inconceivable
that an existent is more perfect than that which has existence as its special
property. The essence of the Real does not need the lower nor does it abandon
the nobler,
because it would extend to ignorance, impotence, or greed in him who transcends
that. Rather, his essence requires the nobler, and
he is the noblest.
40.
This indicates the principle of the nobler possibility, which we have indicated
previously. Its exposition is according to what the master [Suhrawardī]
mentioned in his other books,1 that when the lowest possible being
comes into existence, it requires that the noblest possible being have come
into existence prior to it. Otherwise, either the existence of the lower is by
an intermediary, which contradicts the postulate, because this intermediary can
only be nobler in that the cause is nobler than the effect or it is without
intermediary. Then, if it is possible for the nobler to proceed from the
necessary, that requires the possibility of the many issuing from the one, by
necessity. The nobler cannot possibly proceed by the intermediary of that which
is lower. It could be without intermediary, or with intermediary that is not
lower. If it is not possible for the nobler to proceed from the necessary, then
it is possible from its effect, that the cause is lower than the effect, by
necessity. Restricting the intermediary to the lower is based on the principle
that ‘from the one only one proceeds,’ and that it is not possible for the
nobler to proceed either from the necessary or from its effect, despite the
fact that this possibility was assumed. The possible does not require the
existence of an assumption which is impossible. If it is required, it is only
required of another thing that is not its essence, otherwise it will not be
possible. This contradicts the postulate. The assumption is existent, but it
does not proceed from the necessary existence nor from its effects, because the
discussion postulates the impossibility of its issuing from either one. So its
existence demands an aspect of necessity required in the essence of the
necessary that is nobler than that which has existence as a special property,
and that is impossible. This is its exposition according to the contents of The
Commentary on al-Ishārāt, with additional notes and
glosses.
41. I say that the
refutation of the last difficulty is only complete if the possibility of the
effect is a requirement for the possibility of the cause, but this is
disproved, because the disappearance of the first effect is possible despite
[the existence of] its cause, and the disappearance of the necessary is absurd.
The proof is that the possibility of the effect requires the possibility of the
cause, seeing the effect in such a sense that when one sees the effect, nothing
exists in it that would necessitate its absurdity. The disappearance of that
[cause] is denied in the form of the disputed [effect] as it is in the form of
the affirmed [one].
42. It is possible that he
means this: that which is not an existent being prior to a possible being is
not possible [but is] nobler than it. This is converted to the converse of our
statement: that which is possible is nobler, for it is a prior existent being.
43. The demonstration of the
first point is that if it were possible, it would be nobler to the degree that
it exists. Either it exists from the necessary without intermediary, though it
is assumed that the existence of the lower is from it without intermediary,
which requires the procession of the many from the one; or it exists by an
intermediary, and it is restricted to the lower, which requires that the cause
be lower than the effect. Both requirements are impossible. That which requires
it [to exist] to the degree that it is impossible is itself impossible. Even
its possibility requires that it is impossible. Here is something like the
previous view; the truth is that if I mean by denial of the nobler that which
includes the denial of the other, then that is the case. But if I mean the
denial of the essence, then what he said is incomplete.
44. These points are not
affirmed or needed after it was established that the effect in its existence
and its non-existence is connected to a cause that requires it. This is because
we say that the purpose of [the effect] is an absurdity, regardless of the will
and volition of the actor. What was established is the necessity of the effect,
as existence or non-existence, with regard to the cause. This does not prevent
the will and volition of the actor from being part of this cause. To this
extent, the purpose is not produced upon which was based the negation of the
three imperfections from the first source, that transcends that. Persisting in
the necessity of any one of these imperfections in the origin is sufficient in
this subject, as we have indicated. One of the great masters of Sufism1
relates that from the imam and proof of Islam, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazzālī, and he approved of it
completely. Just as the reflection of the light is nobler
than the reflection of its reflection, and so on to the end, to that
which is the lowest of all, which is the isthmus between it and the darkness,
by which I mean the levels of light that are connected to the darkness. The
equivalent in this discussion, by way of example, is the level of bodies. Anything more perfect than that which has existence as its special
property is absurd because of what was mentioned. This is a repetition
of the preceding [39]. It is as though he returns to it to make it a
preparation for the account of good and evil.
45. He states that if that
is the case, ‘Because some people will be excluded from that which is nobler.
We see that most people are excluded from their perfections, the production of
which is most important for them’.2
46. It is replied in The Commentary on [the Wisdom of] Illumination, from The [Book of Encounters and] Conversations, ‘This principle
is only rejected in the case of the continually existing fixed possible beings
[i.e., the heavens], because of their perpetual fixed causes, which are
uninfluenced by heavenly motions, in distinction from those taking place
beneath them, [which are influenced by them], such as [the elementals of] the
three kinds, etc. It is denied because of external causes. The possible belongs
to them essentially, as does the nobler and more perfect. Therefore it is
possible for something to be given at one time something noble and at another time something low, not to its essence but to its
potentiality, by unlimited causes among contingent beings.
47. ‘Now the entities that
are above the motions, among the heavenly intelligences, souls, and bodies, and
the concomitants of universal natures, are not excluded from that which is
nobler than they or from the most perfect of the external entities. This is
because they are either causes or effects, or neither the one nor the other.
The last two are both false, because its causality of a thing is not admissible
if its non-existence does not entail the non-existence of the thing. The
difference between their nobility and their lowliness is not due to the
difference in contingent potentialities. They have it from the motions because
they precede them, and their causality is because of fixed causes, which is the
difference in actors and the difference in their aspects. So the nobler is
affected by the nobler and the lower by the lower.’1
48. I say in summarizing the
reply that the sublime entities that have lofty motions are not prevented from
attaining their possible perfections. They have a strange property, contrary to
the entities occurring below them, because of their conjunctions with motions.
The causes of these perfections in the fixed entities are not foreign to their
existent essence. They are either the essence of the actor or a necessary
entity to which belongs the activity of their perfections. They are, in their
essence, the cause of the essence, or that which necessitates it, contrary to
contingent beings. The causes of their occurrence are special in one respect.
The causes of their perfections may be other than the causes of their existence
or that which requires their existence. If a comparison is made, they are not
nobler than their states. They are not given existence in their essences. There
are no causes in their existence, nor is anything that renders them impossible
found in their necessities. The difference between the two lies in their
occurrence in the nobler respect. But regarding the matter of their
impossibility, the nobler individuals of the ordered chain preceded the others
in the vertical and horizontal hierarchies, with no basic difference, so let
them govern [their sphere of activity].
49. Now, here is another
reply, and that is that divine grace is connected with governance of the
universal insofar as it is universal primarily and in essence, and with
governance of the particular secondarily and by accident. It is not possible
that the order of the universal can be more beautiful than the actual order. If
it were possible for every individual, its greatest perfection would be
separate with regard to its special characteristic, but that would be
disruptive to the beauty of universal order, even if the particular aspect is
concealed from us. This can be likened to the architect submitting a building
plan. It may be more beautiful for this building from the total perspective if
one side in particular is an outhouse, another is a sitting room, and another
is a bedroom. This is because if there were a different arrangement, it would
be defective for the beauty of the entire building, even if it is more
beautiful, considering the special characteristic of each part, for [each] to
be a sitting room, for example. This is instructive regarding the present
subject, in that the universal, insofar as it is qualified by the most
beautiful order, is related to the complete origin in every respect. This
relationship merits the emanation of existence from [the origin], and it
undoubtedly comes into existence from this perspective and no other, though
from these [other] perspectives it [the universal] is farther from the
relationship with the origin. Perhaps the explanations of the quality of that
[universal] beauty and its imperfection are caused by the change in condition
of an individual apart from that which conditions it. This is the secret of
destiny, which God possesses exclusively by his knowledge, and of which no one
else is aware, or of which one after another of the prophets and philosophers
is aware; but God knows best the reality of the situation.
50. And
the absurd does not come under the power of anyone who is powerful. From
this it does not follow that there is a basic defect in the one who is
powerful, rather the defect is in the absurdity, inasmuch as it is not properly
related to the power. Since it is known that anything more perfect than the
actual order is impossible, then this order is the best of possible orders.
That which opposes it is evil, and that which proceeds from the first transcendent
can only be good. This [discussion] encompasses the problems relating to the
procession of evils from it, and it does not need to be prolonged.
51. This
only extends the discussion of good and evil, by intending the problems
of establishing their quiddity, and the quality of their procession from the
origin or from another, as mentioned in the books of the moderns, particularly
the theologians. Some of them deny that there are evils that proceed by the
existentiating power of God the transcendent, and they are the Muʿtazilah; they are the
ones referred to by the Prophet (God bless him and grant him peace), when he
said, ‘The Qadariyyah [or advocates of unrestricted free will] are the Magians
[i.e., the dualists] of this community.’ They maintain that there are
influences upon God the transcendent, which by volition overpower the volition
of God the transcendent, but this is pure ignorance and manifest heresy. One who thinks that the sublime has consideration for the base—meaning
that the sublime origins by their essence bring about the existentiation of the
base—[such a person] imagines that God has no other world
beyond this darkened piece of dirt, that is, the world of elements, and that God does not have beyond these diversions, meaning
animals both rational and otherwise, some creatures
nobler than them, such as the intelligences and the heavenly souls. One who
knows that would have no consideration for this lower world. There is [no]
proof of their conditions except from the perspective that they proceed from
the sublime realities. He does not prolong the likes of this discussion; only
one who does not know that does so. He does not know that if
it were to happen otherwise than it is, evils would necessarily result, and a
destruction of order on a scale unrelated to that which one now imagines.
Consider burning fire; if it did not exist, many beneficial necessities would
be destroyed for humanity and others. But with its existence, it is only
necessary to distinguish some parts of elemental compounds, with the
possibility of avoiding others. Or you may imagine that the existence of fire
is possible in this world to cook and to burn that which it is useful to burn,
and not to burn what damages it, and thus it would be, according to its nature.
But this is a vain fancy.
52. And
this, that is, this visible order fixed in place refers to a subject
assumed by his words; And when he says, is the ultimate
possible order, it refers to his predicate, that is, ‘if it were to
happen, etc.,’ ‘he does not know that’ (51) this visible order is the ultimate
possibility. It is not possible for the world of elements to comprehend
oppositions and disasters. And the world that is untouched
by goals is another world.1 This is the world of images, the world
of the heavens, and the superior world of souls and intelligences. It is the resort of the pure ones from the supposed and created
vices, it is [other than] our world, the companion of
humanity. If pure human souls are tightly connected to the use of natural
faculties and long for them greatly, after serving the connection with the
elemental body they are translated to an internal imaginal body. They enjoy the
witnessing of the forms of that world, such as sensuous food and magnificent
sexual intercourse. When they are connected to the heavenly bodies they become
themselves a locus for imaginalization of these forms that they have, but here
in the forms of the elements their benefits are realized without their evils.
Other things that are conceivable, if they exist in this world, are more
beautiful. If they are stripped of the connection with nature, which strongly
attracts them to their origins, then they become linked with the heavenly
spirits and intelligences, and are ranked differently according to their
different degrees in separation.
53. It is
not the situation that the sublime holy ones are only
occupied with ripping off veils, turning orphans from their nurse’s embrace,
tormenting those who are free from bodies, and planting
false religions, for their manifestation and growth is similar to the
planting of trees, the seducing of souls, the coddling of
fools, the punishing of the wise, and other disasters occurring in our
world. This is because if the activity of these holy substances was limited to
[this description], there would be an obvious defect in their activity, and
this is impossible. Their only occupation is the witnessing
of the lights of God the transcendent from every place where they may be
witnessed. They witness the lights of God the transcendent in
themselves, in their causes, in their effects, and in the other intelligences
proceeding by accidental2 considerations. Their motions require necessary
requirements that inflict certain evils on some lower entities. If they returned to a position that benefited those people, they
would thereby injure other worlds. Either they are parts of the world,
such as in the case of fire or torrential rain that may sometimes cause damage,
but without which, there would be harm to crops and trees, and animals; or,
they are in the sublime worlds, in that no similarity to their objects of love
is produced, although these contingent beings have no primary object, for they
occur in the most perfect possible aspect that they have. This he indicates by
saying, Nevertheless, they do not move for the sake of lower
entities, as was established. Lower entities are not an intention for
them in essence, such that if a defect occurred in them relative to one of the
parts, it would require that the defect be in these sublime ones. This is
because there is no defect in their essences, nor in their actions, nor in that
which is basically an intention for them in essence. That which appears, that
is, the defect, although it is not a defect in actuality, is rather the most
perfect thing possible, as you know. Only that which is included in the
necessary is the intention in essence, not that which is in something. But when eternal radiances and divine lights shower upon them—it
is possible that by ‘external radiance’ he means that which emanates upon them
from the first origin, and by ‘divine lights’ that which emanates from the
intelligences—they are overcome by awe in the divine
stations, by the power of an overwhelming force attached to awe of the holy rays, which does not allow them to see their essences,
let alone anything else. They are absorbed in the witnessing of the
origins, inasmuch as it is not possible for them to consider anything else at
all. Despite that overpowering force and the total
absorption that is necessary to it, they know all, whether
open or concealed, since knowledge is not limited to consideration.
Thus, all things are known to them without their having to consider them. This
is like our knowledge of ourselves and our characteristics by presence, at the
time of total absorption in something, such as in the state of extreme anger,
or complete concentration on an intellectual or imaginative matter, or the
presence of a beloved. Nothing escapes their knowledge or
the knowledge of their creator, since it would then have to cross their
existence as pure lights. This demonstrates the perpetuity
of the heavenly bodies, and the fact that they are not compounded of the
elements, and are free from corruption. That is, the [lack of]
corruption of their forms is attached to their not being compounds; these two
points are in the position of commentary on ‘the perpetuity of the heavenly
bodies’, as though he had said, ‘the fact that they are not of the genus of the
elements’, as the text demonstrates. So they are not elemental at all, as will
be shown below. That which was stated in the Fifth
Temple (al-haykal al-khāmis) concerned
the necessity that their motions be perpetual. If they were compounds of the
elementals, they would be dissolved, because elemental parts are by
their nature prone to fall apart and to incline toward their natural limits.
The nature of the compound is that they are essentially these parts. The power
of universal nature continues to abate, on account of the powers of the
particular natures, gradually, until it is altogether abated. The power of
these natures overpower it so that it is dissolved. And as
long as their motions continue, which is attached to the phrase ‘they
would be dissolved’, they are not elemental at all.
That is, they are not compounded of the elements, nor are they of their genus.
This is a conclusion for the syllogism mentioned in the course of this
argument. The syllogism is thus: If the heavens were compounded of the
elements, they would not be perpetually in motion, but they are perpetually in
motion. The conclusion is that the heavens are not compounded of the elements.
He neglects to mention the conclusive syllogism for their freedom from
corruption, leaving it to the understanding of the student. Its form is thus:
If the heavens were susceptible of corruption, their motion would not be
perpetual, but they are perpetually in motion, therefore they are not
susceptible of generation and corruption.
54. Because
heat is light, it only moves by nature upwards,
absolutely or relatively. Cold is heavy, and it only moves
downwards, because of the preceding commentary. Wet
easily accepts form or the lack of it, conjunction or disjunction, and dry
accepts them, that is, form and conjunction in existence and cessation, with difficulty. The heavens cannot be pierced either
easily or with difficulty. They do not move in a straight
line, nor toward the centre, nor away from it, that is, neither upwards
nor downwards, according to what precedes. This demonstrates the impossibility
of piercing, because that is by motion in a straight line. I say regarding
piercing, that inasmuch as an aperture occurs, it only exists in a straight
line. Either it is pierced absolutely, in which case it may be that part of it
is moved with a circular motion and the remaining part is at rest, or it is
moved circularly in a different direction. That is also impossible for the
heavens, because it is impossible for them to be at rest or to change their
movements. Otherwise time would depart from continual unity, because of the
preceding. You realize that this and similar matters to this are only
established by demonstration in that which is limited in time and place; it
applies to the rest of the heavens by intuition. Their
motions circulate around the middle, that is, around the centre; they are not heavy or light, because weight is the
inclination downwards, and lightness is the inclination upwards, nor are they hot or cold, because that would require the
two inclinations just mentioned, nor are they wet or dry,
because these require the possibility of accepting form or the lack of it, and
conjunction or the lack of it, either easily or with difficulty, as mentioned. For they are a fifth nature [ i.e., quinta essentia], that
is, differing from the natures of the four elements, and
they encompass the earth from all sides. If heaven
did not encompass the earth, the sun would not return to the east after setting
except by doubling the length of the day. That is, a day would be produced
by two sequences, one travelling from east to west and the other the reverse.
The conclusion is evidently absurd. Because this situation occurs among all the
planets that rise and set in all regions, there is no doubts [about this
proposition], and that it encompasses the earth from all directions.
55. The
heavens are all spherical, because of their circular motions. After the
establishment of circular motion, the argument that the heavens lack spherical shape would require the establishment of division within
them, which is contrary to that which is proper to these noble bodies, as
confirmed by Ptolemy in many discussions in the Almagest.
Understand that, for it is a marvellous method. Some of them
encompass others, because all of them encompass the earth, viewing the
sight of the rising of all the planets from two opposite points, in reality or
in love, in all regions, intuition being added to that. [They
are] living, because their motion is voluntary, and volition without
life is impossible. [They are] rational, that is,
they comprehend universals, and that is because voluntary motion undoubtedly
has a goal of which the seeker is conscious. This is not motion itself, because
its reality is a first perfection,1 for that which is potential qua
potential. This means it is a perfection regarding which matter is not
separated from potency. That can only be conceived in that it exists
essentially as a means for perfection, and whatever is essentially a means is
not in essence a goal. I say,2 this is prior to what was stated,
because it is not possible for an essentially established mover to necessitate
them [i.e., motions] according to its nature, volition, or anything else,
because that which necessitates a thing persists by the perpetuity of its
essence; and it necessitates them not by its essence but by something else
[i.e., its goal]. That is because the fact that it does not necessitate the
essentially established mover according to its nature, volition, or anything
else, does not require that it be an intention in essence. This is because of
the possibility that the mover necessitates them, by the addition of something
that is not established, which is a part of the cause required by them and not desired
by anything else. The meaning of one thing being desired by another is that the
other [the goal] should be a final cause for it, and that is not required by
the fact that it does not necessitate the essence of the mover by its nature,
volition, or anything else. So after hinting at that, we shall shift the
discussion to that other thing [the goal]. If it is an established entity, it
is not possible that it proceeds from that which is moved by the addition of
motion. If it is not established, it is not possible that it proceeds from that
which is moved by its [own] nature, volition, or anything else, as stated in
the deduction. Since it is proved that motion necessarily has a goal, and its
goal is either a place, a position, a quality, or a quantity, as motion only
occurs in these categories, and that the heavens can only have positional
motions, so their goal is the positional. It is not a particular position,
otherwise something would happen to it, so it is consequently a universal
position, and it is something that apprehends the universals. Now, that does
not suffice for the procession of the particular motion. A particular longing
does not originate from the universal tendency. There is no doubt that the
heavenly bodies have a faculty impressed upon their nature by reason of the
apprehension of the particular motions and particular positions desired by
them. The relation of this faculty to the heavenly souls
is the relation of the sensory faculties to our souls; this is repeated by the
followers of the Peripatetics.1
56. I say that in this
subject there is no need for motion to be unintended in its essence, rather it
will suffice them if they say that the object of desire is not the particular
motion, otherwise it will be interrupted after its completion.
57. It may be asked why it
is not possible that the object of desire is the particular unitary motion that
is continuous from pre-eternity to post-eternity, not requiring interruption?
58. I would say that the
corporeal faculty does not apprehend the unlimited, hence the analogy of that
prohibition applies to position, which is intended essentially in their
opinion. But if we follow the method of illumination, then we say that you
already know that the purpose of their motions is the illuminations that unfold
to them from their origins, that they may resemble them by these illuminations,
as indicated by his phrase, They love the radiance of
holiness, that is, the lights which are their origins.2
They seek to resemble them, with all the noble luminous relationships they
have. This only occurs by the outflow of the lights from the origins, so the
heavenly souls undoubtedly conceive of the origins and their noble luminous
attributes. However, they are separate, and the material does not apprehend the
immaterial. They are immaterial souls and every immaterial being apprehends the
universals (as was established) although among them it is established that
whatever apprehends something apprehends itself. The Master [Suhrawardī] has
explained in other books that whatever apprehends itself is an immaterial
substance, so it also apprehends the universals. Whatever apprehends itself is
a light to its own essence since its manifestation to itself is not an entity
added to its essence. Now, the Master in The [Wisdom of]
Illumination maintains that the victorious relationships that may be
repeated are limited, although the victorious relationships are not absolutely
limited.3 This is because not every relationship that may be repeated is
limited. If repetition occurs to them in that which may be repeated during
cycles and eons, the resurrection will occur; then the repetition will start
over again. So consider the matter in this way. Were it
not for fear of prolixity, we would adduce that which proves the position. It
may be that we will return to it in another book, with the aid of the Exalted
Benefactor.
59. They
obey their originator because the purpose of their motions is to attain
similarity with it and to approximate it, as explained. In The
Salvation (al-Najāt) Ibn Sīnā says that heaven is a living being that
obeys God the mighty and glorious. There is no death in the
world of ether because, he explained, all of them possess a separate
soul, and it is doubtful that he intended that [they should die] after
clarifying that they are living [55]. The reference is to the fact that every
body among the heavenly beings possesses an individual soul, as many
philosophers maintain, so that they establish that the planets have circular
motion in their locations. In The Healing Ibn Sīnā
inclines to this theory and prefers it. He explains it in The
Indications and that is because what applies to the planets applies to
the heavens, in terms of the necessity of removing possible positions from
potency to action.
60. He says in his Commentary1 that this thing is not perceptible in
that which is above the lunar region. The black spots of the moon, even if
imaginary, appear in it by reflection, as with mirages and the rainbow, or
there are stable existent bodies opposite it [the moon], or something is
existent in it and fixed at all times in a single condition lacking circular
motion. But there is a difficulty in the decisive point. It is evident that
there is no existent thing in it [the moon], because of the necessity that it
be simple and the impossibility of it changing from its natural position. The
position taken in The Memoir2 was that the black
spots are small dark planets embedded with the moon in its orbit. I say that as
the moon is simple, so is its orbit. If simplicity requires that there not be
an existent thing in the moon; that requires that there not be an existent
thing in its orbit either. Although the position was taken in The Memoir that the black spots of the moon are small dark
things embedded in the body of the moon that is contrary to what he maintains
here. Now, the previous demonstration, that is, the necessity of its
simplicity, does not demonstrate the point since simplicity does not deny that
there could be another simple body embedded in its body, as in the heaven and
the very same planets. This is not a demonstration of the impossibility of the
planets encompassing another planet with a discrete body. What he says
regarding the impossibility of it changing from its natural position is not
conducive to the point and it is obvious that he speaks of its natural shape.
Perhaps by position he means part of the category, that is, the relationship of
the parts to each other, as change in this requires change in the shape. After
this concern, which is under examination, as you know, unless indeed the most
appropriate thing is said regarding these noble bodies, then there is no opposition established in them requiring their natures by
necessity, and there is no necessity in that, despite the support of sound
possibilities. So the theory remains in the soundness of these possibilities.
The Conclusion of the Temple
On the Distinction of Existent Beings in
General, and the Indication of their Ranks.
61. The first fixed
relationship in existence is the relationship of the existent subsisting
substance (al-jawhar al-qāʾim al-mawjūd), that is, the first effect, to the
first eternally subsistent being (al-awwal al-qayyūm), which is existent
by its essence and gives existence to others. It,
that is, this relationship, is the source (lit. ‘mother’) of
all relationships because it contains them all, even
the noblest of them, since it is the origin of all and because it also
contains them. It is the lover of the First. For
every effect is the lover of its cause, longing to be similar to it, as just
mentioned, especially the noblest possibility, which has no veil whatsoever
between it and the transcendent first. The First is
victorious over it, overwhelming it by the light of
its eternal subsistence, with a vanquishing that cannot be encompassed or even
named as its light, just as the light of the sun is victorious over the
lights of vision with a vanquishing that cannot be beheld. This
relationship contains a lover from the side of the effect and a vanquishing from the side of the cause.1
According to what the Master says in his books, love encompasses both the
aspects of cause and effect except that the love of the cause follows upon
vanquishing, while the love of the effect follows from submitting. This is the
real, as the illuminationist experience attests.
62. The
one side, which is from the cause, is nobler than the
other, which is from the effect. The condition of
this relationship becomes effective by containing both sides, the active
and the passive, which are referred to as vanquishing and submitting in all the worlds. The authority of the principles becomes
effective in the ramifications, as is established among the possessors of
unveiling and vision. Thus divisions take place [in
existence] in pairs on every level of existent beings. Substance is divided into the embodied, which is vanquished
and influenced by the origins above it, and the bodiless,
which vanquish the latter, as indicated.
63. The
bodiless dominates it, that is, the body, and it,
the bodiless, it is beloved and its cause as was
shown previously. One of the two sides, namely, the
side of the embodied, is inferior and in this way the
substance that is separate from matter is divided in
two parts: a part that is lofty and victorious,
which is the intelligences, and a part that is descending,
passive and vanquished, into the degrees [of existence], which are the
souls. Likewise, bodies are divided into the ethereal and
the elemental. The former is active and victorious, and the latter is
passive and vanquished. Then he turns away from that discussion to establish
that those divisions exist in some of the parts of each of the two divisions,
i.e., the ethereal. He says, Rather, some of the ethereal
bodies, namely, the planets, are divided into those
that sustain felicity, called the auspicious celestial bodies, such as
Jupiter and Venus, and those that sustain vanquishing,
called the unlucky ones by the masses, such as Saturn, Mars, etc. Then he turns
away from that, advancing to establish division among some of the parts of each
part, that is, some of the planets. So he says, Rather,
there are two luminosities [i.e., the sun and the moon], referring to
the preceding divisions, assuming the meaning as though he had said, ‘Rather,
from this division two luminosities are produced’. Otherwise, it is obvious
from the phrase, ‘Rather, there are two luminosities’, since it is a reference
to the object of the preposition [‘into’, i.e., the planets]. It is possible
that it is a reference to some of the ethereal bodies, as is evident even if
these two [luminosities] are included among some of the ethereal bodies, still
their division is of a higher degree than the division of all the planets. This
division [of luminous bodies] occurs in two, contrary to the division of all
the planets, which is common to a large group. One of the
two, which is the sun, is like the intellect,
since it is an active source of emanation, and the other,
which is the moon, is like the soul, since it is a passive recipient of
emanation. Then he indicates the outflow of that division into bodies in a
general way that encompasses everything he says, by saying, there
is the high and the low, the right and the left. This division flows
into all bodies, high and low, then its outflow enters the heavens
particularly, as he says, there is east and west.
Then its outflow enters some of the genera of elementals, which are most
conspicuous of all. He says, there is the male and the
female among animals. Then he summaries all that by saying, a perfect side is joined with an imperfect one, that is, in
all the divisions mentioned, there is in imitation of the
relationship with the First. He understands that the secret just
mentioned regarding the effectiveness of pairing in all existent beings, which
is true because sex is called ‘effective in all species’, if
he understands the saying of God the transcendent, ‘For everything we have
created in pairs; perhaps you shall remember’ [Qurʾān 51:49]. They
understand that it remains the first relationship, which is ‘the source
[mother] of all relationships’ [61], and they learn from the unity of the
source, which is the origin of this duality.
64. Since
light is the noblest of existent beings by the testimony of sound
nature, so that dumb animals love and adore it, sometimes risking their lives
to approach it, like the moth, so the noblest of bodies is
the most luminous of them. It is the most sacred, [‘most sacred’ (qiddīs)’ being] the emphatic form of ‘the sacred’ (al-quds), or purity. It is the father,
so called because it is the one who brings forth the three kinds [of elemental
matter], which are the fountainhead of the emanation of life. It is the king, because it was given kingship, as was
established by the possessors of experience and
unveiling, who penetrated the commands of the stars and the secrets of theurgy,
among the sages of Babylon and the masters of the sciences who preceded them
and followed them. It is Hūrakhsh, the name of the
sun in Persian, it is mighty since it overwhelms and
is not overwhelmed, the one who is victorious over the
twilight or the darkness by its lights, the chief
of heaven; how could it be otherwise? It is the greatest of the luminous bodies
in it, rather, it holds for it the position of the heart. It
is the maker of day by its rising, the perfecter of
potencies, the master of marvels, as was shown to the masters of the
secrets of the stars, theurgy, and talismans. It is might of
form; it is divine, and its radiance suffices for all the lights, and
for the disappearance of them all is in its victorious rays, it is the disappearance
of all the lights in the sublimities of the glory of the light of lights. It is the one who gives all the bodies their radiance, not taking
anything from them. This indicates its outward form, in that the lights
of all the planets are borrowed from it, as some of the pillars among the
philosophers maintain. It is the image of God, the
transcendent, the almighty, in emanating light on all receptacles and
the vanquishing of all the lights. In general, the light of lights, which is
the sun of the world, is the intellect. It is the greatest
aim and therefore it [the sun] was the prayer-direction of devotions in
the ancient religions. By its nature, fire became a prayer-direction, for they
called it daughter of the sun; it was as though it took the place of [the sun]
in that [role], by existing and appearing in all times and places, unlike the
sun. After it, that is, after Hūrakhsh in nobility
and excellence, are the mighty lords of dominion, or
the individual stars, both fixed stars and planets, and in
particular the master of felicity, the lord of goodness and blessings,
that is, the lesser light, which is the moon. An indication of this is that the
Master, in his Hymns addressed to the planets,
describes the moon in similar terms.1 Glory be to its
originator. The subject is the ‘most sacred’ described above, or each
one of the entities mentioned above. Origination here is in its literal sense,
as giving existence without imitating a model; it is not in its technical
sense, which is giving existence without any intermediary. He
transcends what the heretics say regarding its attributes, and what the
abstractionists say regarding its attributes, and what the abstractionists say
regarding its essence, [transcending] him to whom it gave form with the best of forms. Blessed be God, that is, may He increase well, for his
Essence is transcendent, the best of creators—the
plural, in popular fashion, is metaphorical, since in reality there is no
source of influence except Him, as in the preceding.
1. Paragraphs follow this
edition, though I have added the numbering for convenience. In this translation
Suhrawardī’s text is indicated by italicized print. I did not have access to
the original Arabic text of Suhrawardī, Hayākil al-nūr,
Muḥyī
al-Dīn Ṣabrī Kurdī (Cairo, 1335/1916–17). For a Persian translation
of the base text, see Shihāb al-Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī, Majmūʿa-i muṣannafāt-i
Shaykh-i Ishrāq/Oeuvres philosophies et mystiques, vol. 3, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr
(2nd ed., Tehran, 1355 Sh./1977; repr. Tehran, 1372 Sh./1994), pp. 83–108, and
the introductory remarks of Henry Corbin, ‘Prolégomènes III,’ ibid., 25–45. For
a French translation of the base text, see Shihâboddîn Yahyâ Sohravardî Shaykh
al-Ishrâq, L’archange empourpré, Quinze traits et récits
mystiques, tr. Henry Corbin (Paris, 1976), pp. 33–66; several longer
extracts from the commentaries of Dawānī and Ghiyāth al-Dīn Shīrāzī are
translated there also (67–73), and a few more translations from these
commentaries are found in the notes (74–89).
2. A ‘complete cause’ (ʿillah
tamāmah)
is defined as ‘that which requires the existence of the effect; it is said that
the complete cause is the totality upon which the existence of a thing
depends.’ Cf. ʿAlī ibn Muḥammad al-Sarīf al-Jurjānī, Kitāb al-Taʿrīfāt, ed. Gustavus Fluegel
(Leipzig, 1845; repr. Beirut, 1978), p. 160.
1. Suhawardī, Kitāb al-Mashāriʿ wa’l-muṭāraḥāt, in Oeuvres,
ed. Corbin (Tehran, 1952), I, pp. 375–376.
2. Suhawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, ed. Corbin (Tehran, 1952), II, 173.
1. A marginal note adds, ‘This
is only complete if the compeller (reading al-qāsir
for al-qasr) is a body.’
2. This phrase also occurs in
the Persian translation.
1. A marginal note adds, ‘That
is, Kay Khusraw, Kayqubād, Kay Luhrāsp, and Kayūmarth, from the kings of
Persia.’
2. Following Corbin’s reading fa-atat-hu for the erroneous fāʾita.
3. Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, ed. Corbin, II, p. 157; cf. Suhrawardī, al-Alwāḥ al-ʿImādī, in Oeuvres,
ed. Nasr, III, 186–187, with slight differences in the Persian text. This
comment by Dawānī is translated by Corbin, L’archange,
p. 71, while Suhrawardī’s Persian text is translated by Corbin in ibid., p.
112.
4. The mistake is aṭwār, ‘states’, for awṭār, ‘desires’.
5. Reading ‘divine lovers’ (ʿushshāq
ilāhiyyīn,
cf. Corbin’s reading ʿushshāq ilāhiyya [L’archange,
p. 80, n. 54] instead of ‘lovers of goddesses’ (ʿushshāq
ilāhatīn).
1. Corbin’s text (L’archange, p. 55) reads ‘lord of lords’ (rabb al-arbāb) instead of ‘the transcendent God’ (Allāh taʿālā).
2. This passage is translated
by Corbin (L’archange), 71–72, who cites a marginal
note identifying the author of the Sufi saying as Rūzbihān Baqlī.
1. Following the alternate
reading al-ḥarakah rather than al-muḥarrakah.
2. A marginal note adds, ‘That
is, one of them would be a cause prepared for the other. But it is not the case
that one thing is adapted to another, but is not related to the other, in some
[medium] supported by them both.’
3. The phrase ‘fixed entities’
(umūr thābitah) appears to be modelled on the ‘fixed
essences’ (aʿyān thābitah) of the Sufi thinker Ibn ʿArabī.
1. A marginal gloss.
1. A variant reads ‘its
generosity’.
1. This passage uses terms with
a strong mystical flavour to bring out the difference between earlier intuitive
philosophers and the later rationalistic thinkers who Dawānī wishes to
criticize. The term translated here as ‘initiates’ is al-qawm,
literally ‘the folk’, often used in Sufi writings to indicate the true mystics.
The term translated as ‘experience’ is dhawq,
literally ‘taste’, a common synonym for mystical experience.
2. A marginal note adds, ‘[In
the case of] one who gives to someone who does not seek, this gift is not ‘a
gift of what was sought’.
3. A marginal note adds, ‘One
who mentions it [the relationship] intends to distinguish those who are
related.’
1. The first phrase commented
on in this paragraph, ‘Generosity is the gift of what is sought without
compensation,’ is quoted by Suhrawardī from Abū ʿAlī ibn Sīnā, al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt maʿa sharḥ Naṣīr al-Dīn
al-Ṭūsī, ed. Sulaymān Dunyā, Dhakhāʾir al-ʿArab, no. 22 (Cairo, 1957),
III, 555.
2. See e.g., Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, ed. Corbin, II, 133.
1. Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, II, 154.
1. A marginal gloss identifies
this figure (literally ‘one of the masters of unveiling and realization’) as Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī, author of al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyyah.
2. Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, ed. Corbin, II, 154 (the commentary of Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrazī).
1. Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, ed. Corbin, II, 154 (the commentary of Quṭb al-Dīn; cf. Suhrawardī, Kitāb al-Mashāriʿ wa’l-muṭāraḥāt, in Oeuvres,
ed. Corbin, I, 434–445).
1. Here the text of Dawānī has
‘goals’ (ghāyāt) in place of the ‘maladies and
afflictions’ (āfāt wa balliyāt) of the Persian
translation (III, 102), rendered by Corbin as ‘les malheurs et les épreuves’ (L’archange, 57–58).
2. An alternate reading is
‘postulated’ (farḍiyyah) rather than ‘accidental’ (ʿaraḍiyyah).
1. ‘First perfection’ (kamāl-i awwal) in Ibn Sīnā’s Persian vocabulary means
postulated created existence (āfarīnash-i āfarīdah,
cf. Afnan, 259).
2. A gloss refers this
discussion to Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
the end of the third part.
1. A marginal gloss adds, ‘The Peripatetics
hold that the heaven has a soul that is impressed upon it, and Ibn Sīnā holds
that it has a separate soul. Imam Rāzī holds that it has two souls, one
impressed upon it and one separate. The philosopher Ṭūsī says that this is something that
no one believed before him [Rāzī], for the single body cannot possibly have two
souls, i.e., two essences, it being an instrument for both of them. The truth
is that it has a separate soul and an imaginative faculty, and this is what is
meant by Rāzī, as a kind of goal in this topic. Amīr Ḥusayn refers to the imaginative
faculty as the impressed soul in his glosses to his commentary on al-Hidāya al-athīriyya.’
2. Corbin, ‘Prolégomènes II’,
in Oeuvres, 39, identifies these illuminations (ishrāqāt) as the victorious lights or archangels.
3. Suhrawardī, Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
in Oeuvres, 176; this is a discussion of the
repetition of the cosmic cycle through a return of the planets to their
original positions, in a kind of ‘eternal recurrence’. ‘Victorious
relationships’ appears to mean the celestial configurations of the planetary
spheres as loci of the angel-intelligences.
1. A marginal gloss locates
this remark at the end of the sixth part of the Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
presumably the commentary of Ṭūsī.
2. Possibly the Tadhkira-i naṣīriyya of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī; cf. Muḥammad Mudarrisī (Zanjānī), Sar-gudhasht wa ʿaqāʾid-i
falsafi-yi Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭusī (Tehran, 1335 Sh./1956),
114.
1. The terms translated here as
‘vanquishing’ (qahr) and ‘victorious’ (qāhir) have the general sense of force, conquest,
overpowering, and they recall the Qurʾānic name of God as al-qahhār, the all-powerful. Corbin translates qahr as ‘domination d’amour’, while he renders the term
‘love’ (maḥabbah) as ‘obédience d’amour’.
1. For these hymns (tasbīḥāt), see Corbin’s translation, L’archange, 483 ff.
FLASHES OF ILLUMINATION ON
PRAISEWORTHY ETHICS, OR, THE JALĀLIAN ETHICS
Akhlāq-i jalālī
Translated for this volume by Carl W.
Ernst from Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī, Akhlāq-i jalālī
(Lahore, n.d.), pp. 259–288.
The Fourth Flash: On the Politics of
Kingship and the Manners of Kings
First, let it be said by way of preface
that the rank of the sultanate is one of the glories of the divine bounty from
the limitless treasury of graces, of which certain great individual servants of
God become worthy. What rank reaches this level? For here the divine King of
Kings, having placed one of His chosen servants on the throne of elect
vicegerency, shines a spark from the lights of real majesty on his condition
and makes the specification of the ranks and rights of all humanity subject to
his decree, so that all, according to their different ranks, turn the face of
need in the direction of the heaven-like court. And it has come down in a
saying of the Prophet, that the emperor is the shadow of God on earth, for
everyone oppressed by the calamity of the raging events of time goes to him for
refuge. Gratitude for this supreme bounty and great gift is what regulates
justice among both the noble and the common folk. Just so the noble meaning, ‘David,
we have made you a vicegerent on the earth, so judge between the people with
truth’ (Qurʾān 38:26), can refer to that.
Now that the preface to this
introduction is complete, just as the city is divided in conformity with prior
fate into the virtuous and the non-virtuous, the politics of kingship is also
divided into two types. The first is the virtuous government, which is called
imamate, and that is the ordering of the occupations of the servants in worldly
and otherworldly affairs, so that each attains the perfection that is
appropriate to him, and real happiness can undoubtedly become his perquisite.
The ruler of this government is the vicegerent of God in reality, and is the
shadow of God. In the perfection of government, the one who imitates the master
of the religious law [i.e., Muḥammad] necessarily will attain the prosperous influences and luminous
rays of that unique servant of all the lands. As the poem says,
An example of this type
that is more splendid than the world-illuminating sun is the reign of the
master of the age, who holds the station of Solomon [i.e., Uzun Ḥasan]. The great masters
of unveiling and realization have mostly expressed the good
news, in this time of happy influence, that the truthful day, ‘the day when
consciences will be examined’ (Qurʾān 86:9), is the appearance of the manifestation of all things in
existence. In just a little while, the joy and splendour of the kingdom and the
faith will have increased to perfection, and the groups of people will be
protected from the calamities of time in the enclosure of security, the wolf
and the sheep will drink from the same place, and the falcon and the partridge
will sleep in the same nest. May God most high keep the sun of his justice,
which casts sparks of beneficence to the east and west of the world, in the
day-increasing degrees of ascension, and keep him safe and preserved from the
evil eye, downfall, disgrace, fall, and fault!
The second is the defective
government, which is called tyrannical, and the goal of its masters is the
suborning of the servants of God and the destruction of the lands of God. They
do not endure long; in a little while, they are afflicted with worldly calamity
joined with eternal misery. A tyrannical emperor is like a lofty structure
placed on snow; necessarily, when its foundation melts in the sunshine of
divine justice, the structure is destroyed. The wise know that one cannot
preserve the treasure of Chosroes with a bread crust seized from a tired old
woman, nor set the table of Solomon with a locust’s leg stolen from the hand of
a poor ant. Playing a lute made from wood taken from the property of the poor
and unfortunate yields no result but groaning lament, and the wine filled from
the heart’s blood of the helpless produces only the gurgle of bloody weeping,
and it gives birth only to the hangover of pains and illnesses. One cannot make
the armour of David with a plundered beggar’s garment, nor produce the pillow
for a royal throne from an old quilt pillaged from the needy. A shield woven
from the property of poor orphans will not ward off the arrow of fate, nor will
the mail made from the substance of naked beggars repel the arrow of suffering.
Rather, the master of good
fortune finds security from the arrows of time’s calamities, for he entrusts
his heart to the perfect minds of pure dervishes, and he succeeds in attaining
the goal of the intentions and desire of those with high concentration. For at
the time of commencing journeys and undertaking dangers and risks, having
requested a portable shield from the thought of the residents of mosques and
dwellers in Sufi hospices, the crown of empire sits on the head of the man who
seeks direction from the thought of the crown-bestowing headless and footless
ones. The throne of vicegerency is the residence of the emperor who begs for
grace from the thought of the beggars of the heart.
At tavern’s door sit
rogues and rascals
Who give and take away the
crown of empire.
When a brick is your pillow,
you find the seven stars over your head—
Behold the hand of power and
the rank of nobility.
The
riders of the lead-horse of eternal happiness, in place of the proud-stepping
bay horse and the fleet-footed dark horse, have joined the dun horse of dawn
and the black horse of night to the stable of the emperor, for the departure of
the swift steed of his intention is toward the security and contentment of
those whose state is shattered. Unending grace, instead of the fleet-footed red
horse and the world-striding cream horse, has led the piebald horse of the sun
and the silvery horse of the moon with the halter of subjugation and the reins
of proof of the world ruler. On the field of justice and compassion he has
stolen the prize from worthy rulers, he has imitated the states of emperors,
and he has become the just witness contemplating the daily increasing fortune
of the revered Master of Time, the Divine Shadow.
In the experience of this
claimant and the verification of his claim, if someone opens the eyes of
significance and polishes the verdigris of heedlessness from the mirror of
insight, and the master of virtuous government holds fast to the just law, he
holds the people in the position of children and friends. Greed and love of
wealth is abhorred by the intellectual faculty, but the master of defective
government is attached to the principles of tyranny; he holds the people, in
relation to himself, in the position of slaves, rather, he thinks of them as
beasts of burden, while he himself is the slave of greed and desire. According
to the saying, ‘People in their time resemble most their parents, and people in
religion follow their kings’, men imitate the character of the rulers of the
age. When the bridle of time comes into the hand of a just emperor, everyone
seeks justice and acquires excellence. If the situation is the opposite of
this, men are inclined to lying, greed, and all other vile things. It is for
this reason that it has come down in the sayings of the Prophet, that if a
sultan is just, he has a portion of every good deed done by his subjects; if he
is a tyrant, he shares in every evil deed done by them.
The philosophers have said
that the emperor should have seven qualities: first, high concentration, which
is attained by purifying one’s morals; second, correct knowledge and thought,
which is obtained by natural quickness and much experience; third, powerful
resolve, which is attained by correct opinion and the power of firmness—this is
called the resolution of kings, and the resolution of men, and this very thing
is basic for acquiring every benefit and excellence.
The story is told that the
caliph Maʾmūn had a desire to eat roses, and on this account a great corruption
affected his constitution. As much as the skilled physicians attempted to
eliminate that by prescribing medical remedies, they did not attain success
until a day when all the physicians were gathered to examine their books. While
they conferred on this subject, one of the private boon-companions came in.
When he observed what was going on, he said, ‘Commander of the Faithful! Where
is the resolution of kings?’ Maʾmūn told the physicians, ‘There is no need for any remedy, after this,
I shall not be eager for this again.’
Fourth, patience in enduring
afflictions, for patience is the key to the doors of purpose and security—it is
said in a saying of the Prophet, ‘He who knocks on a door and persists gains
entry’;1 fifth, prosperity, so that he is not disturbed by covetousness for
men’s wealth; sixth, obedient soldiers; seventh, rank, which will necessarily
cause the attraction of hearts, awe, and authority—this quality is not
essential, but is preferred. Military prosperity can be attained by means of
those four qualities, i.e., high concentration, knowledge, patience, and
resolve, so these four are very important. Praise be to God that the revered
emperor, the protector of religion (i.e., Uzun Ḥasan), has attained all these four
qualities, and his noble essence has reached the limit of the ascensions of
magnificence and majesty.
Since the preceding
introduction discovered that the emperor is the physician of the world, and the
physician cannot do without the knowledge of sickness, the causes of pain, and
the nature of the cure, thus in any case it is necessary for the sultan that he
know the disease of the kingdom and the way to cure it. Since civilization is
an expression for a common society among various groups, as long as each of
these groups stays at its level and engages in the occupation that is its task
and attains the portion that is appropriate to it of riches and favours, that
is, pomp and glory, then the temperament of the city will always be on the path
of balance and its affairs characterized by the way of order. But if it turns
away from this rule, then it will always be the cause of dissension, which is
the source of the loosening of the bond of affection and the cause of
corruption and confusion. For it is decreed that the origin of every state is
the agreement of the opinions of society, which are related in mutual aid as
the limbs of a single body. This being the case, it will also be true that a
person has come into existence in the world who has the power of all these
individuals, and none of these individuals can resist it. Even many people, if
they are divided in their opinions, all cannot overcome it, except in the case
that mutual affection is attained among them in the same fashion, so that they
are related as a single person, for its power will be greater than the power of
this society.
Since the situation of any
multitude that lacks unity will not become a harmonious order, and that unity
is justice, as was just mentioned, as long as the sultan follows the rule of
justice and keeps each class of men in its own place, and prevents them from
aggression, transgression, and seeking excess, the kingdom is always in order.
If it is to the contrary of this, every group is overcome by the demand for its
own benefit, and it rises up to harm others, and by way of excess and
negligence the bond of affection is loosened. It is known from experience that
every society increases, as long as there is concord among its members, and
they follow the path of justice. But when injustice and enmity is predominant
among them, it heads toward destruction, since in consequence of the preceding
arguments, the people of the day are on the path of the sultans. Thus, when the
emperor and his following strive for injustice, the demand of injustice that is
concealed in human nature is activated in everyone and
inclines toward aggression. As it is said, unity never joins with aggression,
for then it always becomes the cause of the corruption of the world’s
temperament. Therefore it is said, ‘Government can endure with unbelief, but it
does not endure with injustice’.1
The philosophers have said
that one can protect a regime with two things. One is affection and unity among
those who are in accord, and the other is contention and discord between
enemies, for whenever enemies are busy with each other, they are unable to
attain other aims. For this reason, when Alexander conquered the kingdom of
Darius, the Persian army was vast in numbers. He considered that if he ignored
them and (God forbid) they joined in alliance, it would be hard to prevent
them, and if he eliminated them, it would be far from the basis of religion and
virtue. He consulted with the philosopher Aristotle, and the philosopher said,
‘Separate them, and return to them government and rule of a district, so that
they may be occupied with each other, and you may be safe from their
wickedness.’ Alexander made them rulers of provinces, and from that time to the
age of Ardashīr Bābak, the alliance by reason of which they could become
dominant was no longer easy to attain.
The classes of people should
be equal with one another, so that civil justice is attained. Just as the moderation
of temperament is attained by marriage of the four elements and equality among
them, moderation of the civil temperament is also conceived by equality of the
four classes. (1) The first class is the scholars, such as religious scholars,
jurists, judges, scribes, clerks, engineers, astronomers, physicians, and
poets, for the maintenance of religion and this world is bound to and dependent
on the efforts of their bold pens and elegant proclamations. They are in the
position of water among the elements, and even so, the relationship that is
between knowledge and water, according to insightful assayers, can be clearer
than water, or rather more luminous than the sun. (2) The second class is the
soldiers, such as bold men, warriors, and governors of forts and frontiers, for
the organized welfare of humanity does not take form without constant care for
the sword of the onslaught of their avenging standard, and the matters of the
corruption of rebels are not unbound and destroyed without the fire of their thunderous
wrath. They are in the position of fire, and the aspect of their relationship
with that is more obvious than the requirement of proof—seeking fire by
lamplight is not the task of ‘those who have vision’. (3) The third class is
business people, such as traders, merchants, and masters of trades and crafts.
Through them the sources of trade goods and other occupations are arranged, and
distant regions enjoy and delight in each other’s special commodities and
provisions. Their relationship is like air, which is the supplier of growth to
plants and the provider of spirit to animals. By its mediation, oscillation,
and motion, every kind of gift and rarity arrives by the path
of hearing to the realm of vicegerency, the human clarifier [i.e., the intelligence]
and it becomes extremely clear. (4) The fourth class is the farmers, such as
ploughmen, landlords, and cultivators, who care for plants and prepare foods.
Without the means of their efforts, the survival of humanity would be in the
realm of impossibility. In reality, they are the producers of that which does
not exist, for other groups do not add to the existence of anything, they
rather convey an existing thing from one person to another, or from one place
to another, or from one form to another. Their proximity to the earth, which is
the place of adoration of the planets, the locus of rays of the lights of the
world of purity, the manifestation of the rarities of creation, and the origin
of hidden wonders, is extremely clear.
Just as in compounds, excess
of one of the elements beyond the necessary share causes immoderation,
corruption, and dissolution, in civil society also the predominance of one of
these classes over the other three classes makes the order of unity vain and
confused. After instituting equality between the four classes, one needs to
observe the conditions of every individual and assign the rank of each
according to what they deserve.
From another point of view,
the divisions of humanity are five. (1) The first is those people who are of a
good nature, who convey their goodness to others, such as scholars of the
religious law, masters of the spiritual path, and knowers of the divine
reality. This group is the goal of existence and the elite of worshippers of
God. They are the descent of eternal grace and the vision of unending fortune.
In reality, the other divisions have entered into the inn of existence on their
coat-tails.
The philosophers have
said that the emperor should hold this group closer to himself than any other
and place them in authority over the other divisions. It is said that whenever
the masters of learning and sagacity are the resort of his majesty the emperor,
this is a sign of the advance of fortune and the increase of dignity.
The story is told that Ḥasan Būyah in his own
time was the ruler of the country of Rayy, and from his love of philosophers
and scholars, he was chosen from the sultans of the age to take the drum of
warfare against Rome. At the beginning of battle, victory fell to the army of
Islam and they achieved complete domination over the infidels. Afterwards, the
Romans underwent a general transformation, and having collected an army from
all directions, they set off against the army of Iraq. The latter were
defeated, and some fell into captivity. The Roman king sat and called the
prisoners near to him. Among them was a man called Abū Naṣr, a native of Rayy. When
he made it known that he was from Rayy, the king said, ‘Shall I give you a
message to convey to your emperor?’ He replied, ‘Yes, I am at your service’.
The king said, ‘Tell Ḥasan Būyah the following: I have come from Constantinople with the intention of laying waste to Iraq, but now that I have
investigated your character and condition, it is clear to me that the sun of
your fortune is still aimed at the zenith of perfection and is on the ascendant
in the degrees of felicity. The person for whom the sun of fortune faces the
nadir of decline and the twilight of sunset and extinction does not have royal
associates who are great philosophers and famous scholars, such as Ibn ʿAmīd, Abū Jaʿfar Khāzin, ʿAlī ibn Qāsim, and Abū ʿAlī Batāʾī. The gathering of this
group in your forecourt is a proof of your continuing felicity and increasing
pomp and glory. For this reason I am not going to interfere with your country.’
(2) The second division is
the people who are good by nature, but who do not convey their goodness to
others. The rank of this division is lower than the first division, for the
perfect beauty of the latter is adorned by the mole of guidance and perfecting,
and they are honoured by the robe of ‘taking on the divine qualities’.1
But this division, although they are graced by the ornament of perfection, yet
they fall short of the degree of perfecting others. This group should be
revered, and their welfare and provisions should be supplied in sufficiency.
(3) The third division is
the people who are neither good nor bad by nature. One should keep this
division hidden in the shade of security and clip the wings of pity for them,
so they remain protected from the corruption of their ability and are deserving
of perfection as much as possible.
(4) The fourth division is
the people who are bad, but who do not convey their evil to others. One should
humble this crowd, treat them with contempt, and prevent them from crimes by
prohibitions that preach and deter.
(5) The fifth division is
those who from essential malice convey their evil to others. This group is the
vilest of humanity, and the opposite of the first group. Those from this
division for whom there is some hope of reform should be given corrective
instruction. Those for whom there is no hope of reform, if their evil is not
extensive, the emperor should treat kindly, in accordance with sound opinion.
But if their evil is general in effect, its removal is necessary according to
both religious law and reason, by the method that is soundest and most fitting.
One method of averting evil
is imprisonment, and that prevents someone from mixing with the people of the
city. A second method is incarceration, which prevents someone from having
political influence. A third method is banning, and that prevents someone from
entering the city. If the person is not expelled by these measures, the
philosophers are divided over the permissibility of killing him. Their clearest
saying is that the limb which is the tool of evil be amputated, such as the
hand, foot, or tongue, or else the elimination of one of the senses would
suffice. The truth of the matter is that one should follow the true religious
law, and the legal punishments (ḥudūd) of amputation and
execution should be preferred in applicable cases.
Anything beyond that should be avoided, for God has said: ‘Whoso goes beyond
the limits (ḥudūd) of God has wronged
his soul’ (Qurʾān 65:1). And there should be no execution of madmen. If someone
deserves it according to religious law, he should not be pitied, as God says:
‘And let pity for the two not hold you back from serving God’ (Qurʾān 24:2). Just as a
physician knows that it is permissible, or rather necessary, that he cut off a
limb for the salvation of the remaining limbs, the emperor, who is the world’s
physician by the decree of the First Regulator (whose dignity is exalted), at
times may execute an individual for the sake of the general welfare of
humanity.
After establishing equality
and specifying the ranks among the people according to justice, the emperor
should apportion goods, favouring each one according to his deserts. Goods are
of three kinds: health, wealth, and honours. Everyone is deserving of a portion
of these affairs, and reducing it is oppression for that person, while
increasing it is oppression for the citizens. If there is one person who lacks
the food that he deserves, then to increase someone else’s sufficiency is
injustice for them. At times reduction may be oppression for the citizens.
Whenever a deserving person is made to halt at a station lower than that which
is his right, it necessarily humiliates him. Others become worthy, and this is
the cause of dissension in the order of society.
After distribution of goods
to the people according to their deserts, he should protect that for them, not permitting
that goods rightfully belonging to anyone should be lost. In case someone has a
loss, he conveys to him compensation to the degree that is deserved, in such a
manner that society is not injured. He should prevent oppression by punishments
for those who commit it; for every oppression there is a punishment appropriate
to it. If in recompense to a little oppression he gives much punishment, it is
tyranny for the oppressor, and if in response to much oppression he gives
little punishment, it is tyranny for the other citizens. Some of the
philosophers hold that oppression for any one of the people is oppression for
all the citizens. Therefore punishment is not annulled by the forgiveness of
the oppressed person, and in spite of his forgiveness, it is permissible for
the sultan, who is the universal ruler and regulator, to give punishment. Some
others hold the contrary of this, but since this discussion refers to the
judgment of the just arbitrator of the religious law, the leader of humanity
[Muḥammad]
(blessings and peace be upon him and on his family), the decision is found in
this manner: everything that is in the class of punishments of God, such as
theft, adultery, and highway robbery, is not annulled by forgiveness, rather,
it is necessary for the sultan to uphold the punishment.
But that which pertains to
the class of rights of the people, if it is the law of retaliation or the
punishment of false accusation of adultery, is annulled by merited forgiveness.
If it is discretionary punishment, even in the form of beating, inconvenience,
or contempt, most of the leading experts of the teaching of Shāfiʿī (God have mercy on him)
agree that in spite of merited forgiveness, discretionary punishment is
incumbent on the sultan in terms of correction. In the same way, there is
wisdom in these decrees, for some evils are of that type that is the cause of
injury against the people of the region, such as adultery, theft, and the like.
Lenience for such as that causes dissension in the public order, so necessarily
forgiveness can have no influence on that. Some evils are restricted to a
single person and from him will not infect another, such as false accusation of
adultery, so punishment always depends on the desire and forgiveness of that
person. Those evils for which suspicion of infection of society and the lack
thereof are both supported can be dependent on the view and opinion of the
sultan, so that he commands implementation of what he thinks is preferable and
soundest, in accordance with correct opinion. Therefore if a victim of murder
has no private inheritance, but inherits from the public treasury, the decision
in that case is dependent on the judgment of the sultan. If he wishes, he can
demand retaliation, and if he wishes, he can forgive.
The regulation of temporal
justice is so ordered that the sultan himself diligently looks into the affairs
of his subjects and helps each one attain their rightful resources and honours.
This is demonstrated by the fact that subjects and oppressed people seek the way
to the sultan in time of need. If this is not convenient all the time, they
hold audience on a specific day for petitioners, so that they may present their
needs and describe their circumstances to his majesty the sultan without
intermediary. The kings of Persia had a specific time when a public audience
was held for the different groups of people. The revered Messenger (God bless
him and his family and grant them peace) said, ‘Everyone whom God most high has
entrusted with authority over the affairs of Muslims, and who closes his door
in the face of the needy and oppressed, God most high will close the door of
mercy to him in time of need and poverty, and will exclude him from the divine
grace and favour.’1 The commander of the faithful ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb (God be pleased with him) said, ‘When you have entrusted someone
with authority, you have advised him that he is not to be secluded from the
needy or to close the door in their faces.’ The revered chief of the Messengers
(the most excellent prayers of the Muslims upon him), prayed, ‘God! Whoever has
authority over my community in any thing and is kind to them, be kind to him.
And whoever has authority over my community in any thing and oppresses them,
oppress him.’2
Tradition has it that
Pharaoh, with all his rebellion and ingratitude, had two excellent qualities.
One was that he was easy of access, and the needy could imagine meeting him
without difficulty. The other was that he was adorned with liberality and generosity,
and he extended good fortune to the different groups of humanity from the
tables of general beneficence. His extreme generosity was to such an extent, that it is related that an Israelite woman became
pregnant, but the foods appropriate to this condition were not available in the
kitchen. When he discovered this, the fire of his wrath blazed up, and he
overwhelmed the cooks with the oven of his fiery intention’s anger. After that,
he ordered that every day, the most pleasing kinds of food that are suitable
for the different classes of people should be prepared, and that everyone
should be supplied with that which is appropriate.
When the hurricane winds of
divine majesty began to blow from the vents of unlimited wrath, and the
commanding eternal will became concerned with his ruin and humiliation, then
according to the verse, ‘God does not change the situation of a people until
they change that which is within them’ (Qurʾān 13:11), both those two qualities were
changed into their opposites. His inaccessibility reached such an extent that
on a clear day when the dark night remained concealed in a veil, and when the
western phoenix was in the occident of hiding and concealment, rather, when the
unlucky bat took refuge in the storehouse of calamity and destruction, and no
one but Satan and his armies had permission to speak with him—even so, when the
revered Moses (peace be upon him) was given the honour of having speech with
him, on that very night, by divine command he came to the door of the castle
and stayed at that gateway for one year. But he did not obtain the opportunity
of an interview until one day, when one of the boon-companions of Pharaoh’s
assembly jestingly remarked, ‘A strange figure has appeared; someone of
such-and-such a character is standing at the door, saying, ‘I am the messenger
of God, and I have messages.’ Pharaoh said, ‘Let him be summoned, so we may
laugh and mock him.’ When they summoned him, after the dispute and discussion
that the truth-revealing scripture relates, as much as Moses applied the polish
of evident miracles with the white hand, the verdigris of polytheism was not
removed from Pharaoh’s iron heart.
Despite the ‘manifest
serpent’ (Qurʾān 7:107) that he used to indicate the treasure of faith, Pharaoh did
not follow their path, rather, every time that a snake put its head out of a
hole in order to lead him to an unwholesome punishment, he came to an evil end.
His avarice reached such a degree that no one but the recording angels knew
about his food, and no one but flies came to sit at the head of his table. The
situation was such that trustworthy companions have recorded on the tablet of
traditions that the day when Moses (peace be upon him) departed from Egypt with
the Israelites by divine command, Pharaoh charged close behind them. In all his
kitchens nothing had been slaughtered but a single mangy goat, and having
breakfasted on its liver, he had its meat prepared for a banquet, so that after
returning he could feast with his intimates. But the very king of hell had prepared
infernal food, the devilish tree, and juice of corpses for the entertainment of
him and his soldiers.
The philosophers have said
that it is necessary for the emperor to take care of three things. The first is
preservation of the treasury and the dominions. The second is tenderness and
mercy toward subjects. The third is that he not entrust great
matters to incompetent men. One of the Sasanians was asked what was the cause
of the downfall of his family’s four-thousand-year-old empire. He said, ‘It is that
we turned over great matters worthy of the wise and discerning to base little
men.’ It is said that the foundation of the edifice of justice rests on ten
pillars:
First, that in every case
the emperor assumes that he is the subject, and the emperor is another, so that
whatever he thinks improper for himself he does not permit for his subject.
Second, that he does not
permit the needy to wait, and that he beware of the danger of that. Aristotle
said to Alexander, ‘If you desire the assistance of God most high, hasten to
rescue petitioners.’
Third, that he does not
spend his time absorbed in physical desires and pleasures, for this is the most
powerful cause of the corruption of the realm. Rather, during his hours of rest
and leisure he should do something for the expense of the kingdom and the
welfare of the subjects. A philosopher advised an emperor, saying, ‘Do not
sleep in heedlessness, lest the destroyers of your kingdom arise, and they take
their complaint of you to the court of God. Do not sleep so long that you
destroy your life, for empire and life are like sunlight, which in the morning
is on one wall, but in the evening is on another wall. Act so that you consume
the world and the world does not consume you.’
Fourth, that he makes the
basis of his actions to be kindness and courtesy, not violence and anger.
Fifth, that in pleasing the
people he seeks to please God.
Sixth, that in seeking to
please the people he does not oppose God.
Seventh, that when he is
asked for a judgment, he gives justice, and when he is asked for mercy, he
forgives, for mercy to the people is the cause of the mercy of God most high.
It is even so in the correct ḥadīth: ‘Those who are
merciful receive the mercy of the Merciful; be merciful to those on earth, and
you will receive mercy from the one who is in heaven.’1
Eighth, that he inclines to
the company of men of God, and that he does shrink from their preaching and
advice.
Ninth, that he treats
everyone as they deserve.
Tenth, that he is
unsatisfied with merely avoiding oppression himself, but he orders the
government of the kingdom in such a way that the bureaucrats, soldiers, and
peasants give each other no opportunity for oppression. As the saying goes,
‘You are all shepherds, and all of you are responsible for a flock.’ On the day
of the Resurrection, he will be questioned about whatever happens in the
kingdom by reason of which his government becomes defective. It is recorded in
tradition that the commander of the faithful ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, who possessed perfect justice and
extraordinary piety and purity, so that he was called ‘the fifth of the
Caliphs,’ was seen in a dream after his death. When
asked about his condition, he replied, ‘For a year I was veiled on a precipice
. The reason was that a hole had developed in a bridge, and a goat got his foot
stuck in that hole and was injured. They reproached me, saying, “Why should
this be? For the welfare of creatures was entrusted to your care, and you are
neglecting the preservation and control of these affairs.”’
So one should look after the
people by following the decrees of justice and the acquisition of excellence.
For just as the body depends on nature, nature depends on the soul, and the
soul depends on the intellect, so the city depends on the kingdom, the kingdom
depends on government, and government depends on wisdom, which is the essence
of the religious law. To keep the affairs of the state on the path of the
religious law, social order can be attained, but when one turns away from that
firm path, it robs the kingdom of joy and splendour. Plato said, ‘Preserve the
law (nāmūs), and it will preserve you.’ That is,
watch over the religious law (sharīʿah) so that the religious law watches over you.
When one has finished with
establishing welfare and justice, one pulls the reins of concentration toward
excellence and beneficence, for no quality is nobler than excellence and
beneficence, as has been clearly set forth. In beneficence, one ought to claim
also considerable responsibility, so that beneficence is on a par with awe and
magnificence. If awe declines, beneficence is the cause of cheering the
defeated, and it increases their hope. It is as in the case of land tax; if all
kingdoms were given to one person [as his responsibility], he would still not
be satisfied. Aristotle gave this testament to Alexander: ‘The oppressed should
not have too much awe of you, lest they be unable to state their needs.
Soldiers and wanderers should have considerable awe, lest they enter into tyranny
and injustice.’
The revered chief of the
Messengers (upon whom be prayers and peace), by reason of being the locus for
the manifestation of the majestic and beautiful lights, and the revealer of the
effects of divine greatness and unlimited glory, possessed awe to such a degree
that Abū Sufyān, in the time when he was still a non-Muslim, came near the
Prophet to make a treaty. When he returned, he said, ‘By God! I have seen many
kings and leaders, and none of them inspired this fear and awe in my heart.’
His grace and friendliness were to such an extent that one day a woman came
before the Prophet, wishing to present a request. Indeed, because of the sparks
of holy lights from the windows of the holy soul of the revered Prophet, he was
reflected on the four walls of that purified house. As her obvious astonishment
became ever more complete, when the Prophet became aware of this, he said, ‘Do
not fear; I am the son of an Arab woman who used to eat dried meat.’ The
intention of the Prophet was to pacify the fear and awe from the heart of that
woman, so that she could make her request known. Showing pride to the proud and
humility to the poor and oppressed is part of the ethics of generosity.
It is one of the usages of
kings that they keep their secrets concealed, so that they may have the ability
fully to consider and examine them and remain safe from
the plotting of enemies. The revered Prophet (God pray for him and his family
and grant them peace), when setting out on a raid, would give men the impression
that they were going to a different place. Although the sacred courtyard of the
Prophet was free of the dust of suspicion of lying, still he travelled in this
fashion: if, for instance, he was interested in going in a certain direction,
he asked men about the way-stations in a different direction, and made
inquiries about the conditions there, so that men fell into doubts, thinking
that perhaps he intended to go there.
The philosophers have said
that the way to keep secrets that require counsel is to take counsel with those
who are intelligent and discerning, but to keep them hidden from those of weak
intellect. After determining on a course of action, one mixes it with actions
that are not externally opposed to it, or rather with actions that are conducive
to that very aim. One appoints an official to inquire into the affairs of
others, and by their external conditions one discovers their internal
conditions. In learning their intentions, questioning followers who are known
for being scatterbrained is a sound principle. The best way to engage anyone in
conversation is to be friendly with them, in order to get to know them. One
reveals one’s own secrets, and inevitably during conversation one can learn the
hidden thoughts of everyone. If someone is reluctant to understand, in order to
make it easier one tries flattery to remove suspicion, so that it may not end
in opposition and resistance.
If it does not become easier
by flattery, one should not be eager for war, so that one can overcome by skill
and trickery. To overcome enemies, trickery and writing letters full of lies is
not reprehensible, but to speak with lies and excuses is not permissible in
every circumstance. If there is need of war, there are only two possibilities:
one is either the attacker in war or the defender. If one is the attacker, his
goal should be wholly good, that is, for religion or seeking retaliation or a
right that forces them to war. It should not be for conquest or to attain
supremacy, for the conqueror attacks the conquered; one makes war for religion
or to seek a right. As long as the army is not in verbal agreement, it will not
go to war, for to go in between two enemies is very dangerous. In order to make
it easy, it is not appropriate for the emperor to make war in person, for if he
is defeated, the situation is incurable. If he is victorious, he cannot avoid
appearing frivolous, and this is not appropriate to the awe and gravity of
imperial office. If war occurs, and he has the power to resist, he should
struggle and attack the enemy by way of ambush or night assault, for most
emperors who are at war on their own territories are conquered. If he does not
have the power to resist, he should watch with great care over the organization
of forts and trenches, but not rely upon them. The philosophers have said,
‘Those who are in a fortress can be seized.’ Rather, to knock on the door of
peace, one should employ liberal gifts and the use of tricks.
To govern the affairs of the
army, one should choose a person who has three qualities. First, conspicuous
bravery; second, excellent administration and discernment;
third, experience in letters and management. The most important of the
conditions for war is alertness and awareness of the condition of the enemy
through expert spies, and maintaining morale and sparing no expense on it.
Without oversight of external resources, armies and supplies have no benefit of
rational evaluation at the time of destruction and ruin. The philosophers have
said that one should not rely upon forts and trenches except when one is forced
into a siege. The like of this is conducive to weakness and encourages boldness
on the part of the enemy. When someone is distinguished for bravery in war, he
should be rewarded, honoured, and praised. His high degree of compensation
should consist of splendid gifts and great honours. One should not ridicule a
humbled enemy. ‘How many a small group has conquered a large group by God’s
permission (Qurʾān 2:249).’ After victory, one should not give up administration [of
the army].
As long as it is possible to
take a prisoner alive, he should not be killed, for one can conceive of many
uses for captives, such as enslavement, gift, or ransom, which can console the
hearts of enemies. A Qurʾānic text proclaims this, and after victory, killing enemies is not
permitted, except when security may not be attained without killing them. After
achieving domination, one should not give expression to enmity and fanaticism,
for in this situation enemies are property and subjects, and making war on
one’s own slaves and subjects is contrary to the principle of justice. It is
recorded in the writings of the philosophers that when Alexander, after a
victory, did not spare the inhabitants of a city from the sword, Aristotle
hastily wrote him a letter to this effect, that if you are excused for killing
your enemies before attaining victory, after victory what excuse do you have
for killing those who are in your power?
Exercising forgiveness is
one of the qualities of the great kings; it brings about a tightly knotted
realm and solidifies the principles of pomp and magnificence. No matter how
great power grows, extending forgiveness makes it more impressive and secure,
for it is the means to ensure succession and the binding of glorious order.
Someone said, ‘If criminals knew what pleasure I take in forgiving, they would
present their crimes to me as gifts.’ In reality, human perfection lies in
‘taking on the qualities’ of the divine attributes, and by reason of the saying
‘therefore We created them’ (Qurʾān 11:119), the primordial purpose for the creation of the world and
humanity is the manifestation of the real existence. Divine mercy and
forgiveness induce the splendour of manifestation in the loci of human weakness
and defect. It is thus in the ḥadīth, that if you do
not commit sin, God most high will create another group that will commit sin,
so that His spontaneous mercy can manifest in the mirror of forgiveness.
Therefore divine manifestation in the ornament of forgiveness can be similar to
the real Origin, which is the source of all good things.
Since the decisive and
darkness-banishing opinion of his imperial majesty, the second builder of the
foundation of world rule, the revered master of the fortunate conjunction,
the architect of the principles of ruling the land, has attained the subtle
methods of empire, the realities of the manners of kingdom and dominion, the
secret mysteries of wisdom, and the extraordinary commands of religion, by holy
inspired instruction and grace of excellent gift, without intermediary of
acquired learning or human efforts, thus his sacred soul has attained to the
lofty rank of ‘And We taught him a knowledge from Us’ (Qurʾān 18:65).
The discourse on this
subject from this humble poor man without possessions, who can be the fool of
the assembly of the eloquent and the reporter of the words of the masters of
excellence, remains far from the canon of justice and the way of manners. While
Solomon could teach the language of the birds, and Luqmān could demonstrate the
canon of wisdom, I request reproach from the intellectuals and rebuke from the
intelligent. If, for example, to seek help one wishes to summon a subtlety, a
glance at the noble life of his imperial majesty, the master of time, the
second Alexander, is quite sufficient. So without any admixture of effort or
digression, since fate has bound the book of being and existence, it is filling
out the pages of the tablets of human nature with the writing of the
perfections of the soul.
That temperament, which with
its combination of rare graces of divine favour, its manifestation of the
wonders of unlimited assistance, and its essence of divine attributes and
angelic qualities, can be counted among the mighty Chosroes and famous Caesars,
has not previously come into existence from the pen of creation and selection
and the reed of existentiation and origination. Since King Sun was seated on
the four-pillowed fourth heaven, however much the travellers of the heavenly
bodies have turned about the world with such a lamp, they have not seen world
empire with such grandeur and awe, nor have they heard the fame of majesty and
greatness of the master of the fortunate conjunction with this much glory and
splendour. May God most high preserve from rise, fall, and precipitous decline
the two lights of the heaven of succession and the Venus and Jupiter of the
sphere of justice and mercy, which by his very overseeing care and the grace of
his luminous wisdom have made time and space radiant and turned the world’s
expanse into a garden, in the zenith of felicity and the nobility of
magnificence. May God keep his messengers of happiness and armies of fortune,
like the chain of the latter times, joined to the first times, and connected to
‘God by God and His words, and to the gnostics by His Essence and His
Attributes’.
1. Furūzānfar, Aḥādīth-i mathnawī, p. 29, no. 71.
1. This saying is often
attributed to ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.
1. For this Sufi saying see
William Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, pp.
283–286.
1. This ḥadīth is quoted in Persian
translation.
2. Wensinck, Concordance, II, 283b.
1. Wensinck, Concordance, II, 236a.
Ibn Abī Jumhūr Aḥsāʾī
Ibn
Abī Jumhūr Aḥsāʾī, a major Shiʿi theologian, philosopher and Sufi, whose works in many ways complement
those of Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī in integrating intellectual currents of his day into the
Shiʿi
world, was born in Aḥsāʾ in Baḥrayn in 838/1435. It was there that he carried out his earliest studies
in Shiʿi
circles of learning, his city of birth having been a centre of Twelver Shiʿism for a long time.
After completing his early studies, he set out for Najaf in Iraq which was then,
as in later centuries, one of the main, if not the main, centres of Shiʿi learning. Upon
completion of his formal studies, Ibn Abī Jumhūr travelled to Syria and then to
Mecca to perform the pilgrimage. Upon completion of the Ḥajj, he travelled north to Jabal ʿĀmil, another major Shiʿi centre, where he spent some time at the feet of a number of the
notable teachers of that land. Then he returned to Iraq.
The second part of the life
of Abī Jumhūr was spent in Persia. He first set out from Iraq for Khurāsān to
visit the mausoleum of Imam Riḍā and while on this journey composed the treatise Zād
al-musāfirīn fī uṣūl al-dīn (Provision of
Travellers concerning the Principles of Religion). The rest of his life was
spent journeying to various Persian cities where he would often carry out
debates with Sunni ʿulamāʾ. Of these debates the most famous was the one with Fāḍil-i Hirawī in 878/1483
which has become a landmark in Sunni–Shiʿi debates over the centuries. The date of
death of Ibn ʿAbī Jumhūr is not known with certainty but it is known that he was
still alive in 904/1499.
Ibn Abī Jumhūr wrote a
number of works on the Shiʿi sciences of ḥadīth, fiqh and kalām and he has been
always famous among Shiʿi ʿulamāʾ, some of whom have criticized his religious studies, especially his
study of ḥadīth, while others have
held him in the highest esteem. But his most important work, from the
philosophical point of view, and the reason that he has been included in this
volume, is his Kitāb al-Mujlī mirʾāt
al-munjī (The Book of the Illuminated, Mirror of
the Saviour) usually known as Kitāb al-Mujlī, which
holds a position of eminence in the ishrāqī
tradition. This book is in fact a commentary that Ibn Abī Jumhūr wrote on his
own earlier work, Kitāb al-Nūr
al-munjī min al-ẓalām (The Book of Light
that Saves from Obscurity) which in turn was a commentary upon Ibn Abī Jumhūr’s
earlier opus, Maslak al-ifhām fī ʿilm
al-kalām (The Path for Making Understood the
Science of Kalām). The Kitāb
al-Mujlī is not, however, a work of kalām.
Completed in 895/1490, this book is one of the major texts of Islamic
philosophy written at that time, a work concerned primarily with ishrāqī and ʿirfānī ideas and themes
while he remains for the most part silent on issues pertaining to kalām. One can see in this work the clear influence of
Shahrazūrī, whose al-Shajarah al-ilāhiyyah Ibn Abī
Jumhūr quotes often without mentioning Shahrazūrī’s name. Ibn Abī Jumhūr is
both an important figure in the ishrāqī tradition as
it developed in a Shiʿi context and one of the figures who, in bringing together the various
schools of philosophy, theology and gnosis, prepared the ground for the
synthesis of these perspectives in the Safavid period by Mīr Dāmād and
especially Mullā Ṣadrā.
In this chapter, a section
of Aḥsāʾī’s work Kitāb al-Mujlī is presented to a Western audience for the
first time. Following a brief discussion of the opinions of the theologians (mutakallamūn), Aḥsāʾī offers a thorough and detailed discussion of problems in the field of
epistemology. In doing so, he refers to the opinions of Rāzī and Ibn Sīnā and
the role of revelation, purification and providence as the components needed
for obtaining knowledge. Aḥsāʾī’s philosophical discussions, written in the ishrāqī
tradition, take a gnostic turn when he treats the subject of the ‘secrets of
the heart’. Referring to a number of Sufi masters such as Basṭāmī and Junayd, he offers
an esoteric reading of the prayers of the prophets David, Moses and Jesus. This
section concludes with the author’s testament to the readers of al-Mujlī.
S. H. Nasr
THE BOOK OF THE ILLUMINATED, MIRROR
OF THE SAVIOUR
Kitāb al-Mujlī mirʾāt al-munjī
Translated for this volume by Majid Fakhry
from Muḥammad
Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAlī ibn Ḥusām al-Dīn ibn Abī
Jumhūr al-Baḥrī al-Aḥsāʾī, Kitāb al-Mujlī, based on Aḥmad Shīrāzī’s lithograph
edition (Tehran, 1329/1911).
Part 1
Exposition of the Divisions of Knowledge
Since the human species is distinguished
by the attribute of knowledge (the author)1 refers to the
knowledge of its divisions, without dwelling on its definition, which is
intuitively conceived, as we will show.
The human soul is
characterized by the scientific faculty, which understands what is not subject
to aptitude and is called the rational, logical or angelic faculty. For, the
soul understands both universal and particular intelligibles, whether they
derive from sensibles or not, by means of this faculty, whereby the forms of
intelligibles are imprinted on it, just as the forms of visible objects are
imprinted on mirrors facing them. The rational faculty is thus similar to a
polished mirror, so that when the intelligibles happen to face it, their forms
are imprinted on it. Its understanding, then, arises as a result of that
impression, while the act of facing arises as a result of the rational
faculty’s disposition to receive ideas which are the causes of the rational
faculty’s reception of the emanation of those forms from the superabundant
principle, which is the Active Intellect, as the philosopher2
has explained.
Thinking, according to (the
philosophers) prepares the rational faculty and disposes it to receive (the
forms) from it.3 According to al-Ashʿarī,4 the creator of the forms in it is God Almighty, who has imposed the
rules of custom. He thus repudiates (secondary) causes and refers all
determinations to this without any intermediaries. The Muʿtazilites, by contrast,
hold that ideas are actually the causes of the impressions of these forms,
without reference to any other agent, insofar as causes determine their
effects, as will be shown later. However, consensus exists with respect to the
forms of intelligibles being imprinted on the rational faculty in whatever way
in a manner analogous to the visible images imprinted on sensible mirrors;
except that, what is imprinted on the rational faculty is stronger, more
perfect and fuller, since it is not removed from it. It enables it, in
addition, to arrive by virtue of that impression at the
knowledge of its essential and existential features, whether separate or
intrinsic, as well as the part that which is imprinted on it and the forms of
visible objects or other objects of the five senses, as distinguished from the
non-sensible intelligibles which correspond to them externally and are known as
the first intelligibles. The same is true of the secondary intelligibles, the
non-existing entities and even impossibles which differ from sensible objects.
We thus have three things: (a) the form itself, (b) the soul’s reception
thereof and its affection by it and (c) the relation to it in point of state
and plane; I mean attribution. Thus, one wonders whether the term knowledge
applies to the form itself or to the receptivity, passivity, relation or pure
predication.
Each of these positions was
upheld by a group of scholars. The authoritative philosophers and most of the
theologians (mutakallimūn) and the logicians have
opted for the first opinion. The true knowledge, according to them, refers to
the form itself. This is, why they hold that knowledge is a form other than the
object itself but is derived from it, because it is a replica thereof in the
soul of the human, which, were it to emerge outwardly, it would be identical
with the object known. They have entertained, with respect to the manner of the
inherence of those forms in the rational faculty, while turned towards
universal intelligibles, inhering in a particular locus, a theory mentioned in
their books, which I would have touched on, but for fear of prolixity.
I say this is a noble and
venerable discourse that contains important insights into the mode of man’s
acquisition of knowledge. But before we explain it we wish to give a prelude
concerning the mode of man’s knowledge of himself, followed by the manner of
his knowledge of other objects.
We hold that whoever turns
to himself, having the barest measure of perception, will understand that he
knows himself, because he is never absent therefrom. Thus his knowledge of
himself is possible through himself, rather than anything else, as has been
shown with respect to the immateriality of the rational soul; since whatever
perceives the immaterial must be immaterial, for that which does understand
itself or the other is the immaterial as such, rather than what does not
understand itself. Then with respect to that which does not understood itself
or anything else, called the soul, it will hypothetically be inquired whether
it perceives itself by itself or not and so on ad infinitum. This will entail
infinite regression which is absurd. It follows that the soul must be able to
conceive itself by itself, and not through something else. Therefore, the
rational soul, whatever it is, must conceive itself by itself, because it is
the essence of manifestation and luminosity. Its self-manifestation, therefore,
cannot be concealed. For how can that whose essence is manifestation and
luminosity, be absent to itself? The soul is, then, reason, the object and
subject of reason and therefore it is evident that it conceives itself without
a form or a paradigm and conceives other things in the same way, by sheer
presence. Thus it conceives its body and disposes of it in a variety of ways,
but not through an impression in it, since that is a particular act, whereas
the impressed form is universal. It also apprehends all its faculties,
including imagination and estimation,1 as well as its bodily faculties so as
to use and dispose of them. None of the faculties, however, apprehends itself,
so much so that the estimative faculty repudiates itself as well as the
remaining faculties too. In fact, the soul is the agent which apprehends all
the faculties in a particular way, rather than through an image impressed on
it, as you have learned. Moreover, the soul is able to apprehend particulars,
since it constructs definitions and premises, and it abstracts universals from
particulars. This shows that it apprehends particulars in a particular way. In
fact the soul apprehends itself in itself and apprehends its own body and the
rest of its faculties and what is revealed through those faculties, not though
a form or paradigm, but through the illuminationist present apprehension. For
the soul experiences an illumination2 of presence concerning the object and
then it apprehends it without a form or paradigm. Thus the man of virtue ought
to acknowledge the illuminationist knowledge of presence of the parts of the
souls which are divested of matter. Even the distracted can be absent to his
own self. For the apprehension of every abstract entity, by the knower endures
so long as his self endures; and his constant apprehension of himself will
endure so long as his apprehension of other things endures, as happens in the
case of apprehending rational principles and selves. Thus, so long as the
condition of immateriality is constant and strong, apprehension is more perfect
and stronger. That is why the same immaterial reason is then that of the soul,
its apprehension is stronger and firmer than that of the soul. Thus the
apprehension of the souls differs according to their immateriality and their
degree of inclining towards the corporeal faculties, inherence in them, the
force of their association with the body, or rising above it and turning
towards the stronger side. Therefore, according to the measure of its clinging
to its weak understanding, and the measure of its dissociation from another,
(the soul’s) apprehension of itself increases and to the extent other things
are present to it and are revealed to it, its apprehension of other things
increases too.
Thus, if the thing is absent
to the soul, the precondition of its being apprehended is that it should be
present to it, either in itself or through its form or paradigm. If it happens
to be present in itself, (the soul) will apprehend it through the
illuminationist presence. If through its form, then what is apprehended through
the form will either be particular or universal. If particular, then it is
apprehended through the presence of its form in certain corporeal faculties
pertaining to the apprehending soul, such as apprehending Zayd, who is absent
to us, by means of his form. If the apprehended object is universal in form, it
will not be possible to apprehend it through the presence of its form in some
corporeal faculty, insofar as universals cannot be impressed on bodies or their
powers. It follows, that universal forms ought to occur
to the rational soul itself or the apprehended object ought to be the present
form, regardless of whether it is in the soul or in the corporeal faculties;
and then the apprehended object will not be external to the conception
corresponding to the given form. For what it external to conception cannot be
apprehended as a first intention but only as second.
The rational soul, then, is
able to apprehend by means of all three methods a multitude of apprehended
objects: (a) apprehending itself by itself and its own faculties as the object
present to it by means of pure illuminationist presence, (b) by contrast, it
apprehends particulars which are absent to it by means of particular forms,
inherent in its particular faculties, and (c) it apprehends rational universals
by means of the universal forms inherent in it.
If you look closely at this
you will find that apprehension through the forms, whether universal or
particular, is reducible to the illuminationist apprehension by presence. For
the apprehended object in truth is the imaginative forms which are present in
the particular faculties, not what emerges in conception. Similarly, what is
apprehended is the same as the universal forms, not what corresponds to them in
the form of rational abstractions.
It follows that apprehension
is the presence of the object to the self stripped of matter; and since
apprehending the object in itself differs according to the strength or weakness
of its abstractness, its apprehension of something other than itself will
differ according to the measure of its presence and the strength of its
revelation and clarity. Moreover, the greater the abstraction, the greater the
apprehension and the extent of the soul’s domination of the body and the degree
of its controlling it. Then, its apprehension of itself and other things will
be greater or stronger; for apprehension differs according to the intensity of
presence and the degree of its revelation and clarity. This is the truth of the
matter in the science of psychology.
If you look carefully at
what I told you in these discourses, you will know what he1 meant by saying that
the particular forms of the individual soul can be universal, and will also
know that its universality depends on the immateriality of the soul; the
problem existing only in the case of those who regard the soul as something
corporeal. However, he who admits its immateriality and that the matter is as
we explained and grasps it fully, will be worthy of learning the truth about
the modality of the Necessary Being’s knowledge of things, according to the
theory of illumination.
So wayward philosophers have
opted for the second view, applying the term knowledge to that very passivity
and receptivity, and therefore have defined knowledge as the act of the
rational faculty receiving the known object, its being affected by it and being
united to it in some sense. To this the Shaykh2 has inclined in his book ‘Beginning and Resurrection’.1
Some theologians (mutakallimūn) have inclined to the
third view, applying the term knowledge to the relation and abstract
attribution itself. That is why they have defined knowledge as the relation of
the knower to the known or a proportion between them which is not possible
without the proportionality of the two.
On the first (view),
knowledge falls under the category of modality, due to the accidentality of the
form and its dependence on the rational (faculty), in which it is then a mode
subsistent in it. My response is that, if the form is related to the accident,
it is necessarily an accident; for the form of an accident is an accident
necessarily. But if it is related to a substance, then controversy turns on
this point. Most (philosophers) have said that (the soul) is an accident too,
despite the fact that, even if it is a paradigm of substance and corresponds to
it, it still needs a subject for its constitution, seeing that it seems to exist
upon (the body’s) cessation, and whatever is in need of a subject cannot be a
subject.
Others have asserted (the
soul’s) substantiality on the grounds that the form and the bearer of the form
are identical in reality. The form of the substance, then, can only be a
substance, due to the necessary correlation of forms and their concomitants.
Still others have held that it is both substance and accident in two respects;
its substantiality being reducible to its being equal to the substance of which
it is a paradigm and is similar to it; whereas its accidentality is reducible
to the fact that it requires a subject. Thus there is no objection to its
having both characters.
This is the case regarding
the particular forms, but with respect to universal forms the difficulty is
more acute; insofar as they are both universal and immaterial. Thus applying
the term accidentality to them is most complicated. Some have posited the existence
of spiritual accidents and accordingly have allowed their attribution to
spiritual entities, so that those universal forms could be regarded as
spiritual accidents, subsisting in an immaterial soul. Then their immateriality
would depend on the immateriality of their substratum, rather than their very
structure. This account is close to the preceding principles regarding the
modalities of psychology.
(As regards) the second
view, it belongs to the category of passivity, because it is in itself, while
the third belongs to the category of relation, since it refers exclusively to
the relation between the knower and the known. However, each party has a series
of proofs which are mentioned in the extensive treatises of the various
parties.
If this is granted, then we
hold that absolute science, whatever its type, is divisible rationally and
exclusively into conception and assent.2 It is generally
recognized by the learned that knowledge is divisible into the above-mentioned
two categories. Some authoritative scholars have said that we should not apply
this division to absolute knowledge. For absolute knowledge is not susceptible
of this division, because some of its parts do not fall within this division,
such as the Necessary Being’s knowledge of Himself and of other things:
According to the generality of illuminationists1 and most
authoritative scholars, it does not fall under either category, for even
knowledge of each one of us of oneself is not divisible into conception and
assent. For that knowledge in both cases, by way of illumination of presence,
does not fall under either of the two categories, because it does not depend on
the presence of the form or is conditioned by it. That which is divisible into
conception and assent is that part of our knowledge which bears on the
knowledge of what is other than ourselves and is part of absolute science. Thus
the division of absolute science into these two categories is not sound
according to them, but is sound according to those who regard science in
general as impossible without the intermediary of the form, as is the case with
the knowledge of the Necessary Being or other things. (You should take note of
this!) However, the apprehension of entities inhering in the rational faculty
alone, by summoning its forms only, is tantamount to naïve conception, not
accompanied by judgment; whereas apprehension accompanying the judgment
positively is the act of asserting the judgmental relation positively or negatively,
which consists in abstracting it. This is assent, which has no further
subdivision, according to the process of real disjunction made up of two parts
and is known rationally.
There is no objection to
this division on either of the two views mentioned above, due to the difference
of the principle of division and its parts. For the first principle of division
according to the first view is passivity and according to the second relation,
each one of which is different from both parts necessarily. The only objection
bears on the first view, which is the best known and consists in showing that
knowledge, according to them, is identical with the form and that conception
consists in the acquisition of the forms. It follows that each part of the
division will entail the other, despite the fact that that conception is the
counterpart of assent and consists in the acquisition of the form, which is
identical with the principle of division, as you see. This is obviously false,
since the principle of division must differ for each of its parts. The only way
out of this difficulty is to show that conception does not consist in acquiring
the forms, which is the first part of division, but rather is the counterpart of assent. It consists in
acquiring the forms conditioned by the absence of judgment; whereas assent
consists in its acquisition, as conditioned by judgment, the principle of
division being the absolute form which is independent of both counterparts.
Then that principle will not be part of either part. In other words, the
principle will be shown to be the essence of absolute knowledge; I mean the
essence taken unconditionally. The two parts would then be, first the essence
without any judgment, which is naïve conception, or the essence of knowledge
conditioned by the absence of judgment; the second being the essence
conditioned by something which is assent, which is the
essence of knowledge conditioned by judgment. (This should not be difficult to
follow.)
Accordingly, assent would
involve four factors: (a) the object of judgment which is the form, (b) what is
judged by it, which is the description involved in it, (c) the relation between
the two and the judgment itself. None of the three enters into the essence of
assent, but neither is identical with judgment, while the three conceptions
constitute three conditions on which its acquisition depends in a conditional
way. Then, it would be simple and would have no part. This is the view of the
authoritative mutakallimūn, the philosophers and the
logicians. Rāzī1 and his followers held that (the essence of assent) consists in the
four factors on which it depends conditionally. Therefore, it will consist of
all of these, as will be explained in logic.
He says that reflection (fikr) consists in passing from certain matters already
present in the mind to another matter sought. The first are called principles,
the second enquiries. (The author) says this is the definition chosen by
Khwājah Naṣīr al-Dīn2 in his critique of al-Muḥaṣṣal3
in connection with the definition of speculation (naẓar), with additional rectification. For (Rāzī) states in it that
reflection is the transition from certain matters present in the mind to
matters sought out, which are the intended matters. Ṭūsī objects that what is present (in the
mind) is a simple matter, which is the conclusion and therefore it is not
multiple. That is why he has rejected it, substituting for it ‘a matter sought
out’. From the preferred view of the author it is apparent that the conclusion
of speculation is a simple thing, in accordance with the view of the
authorities, who hold that assent is simple, and that conceptions are its
constituents. According to what Ṭūsī 4 has said, the conclusion is a series of multiple matters which accords
with the view that assent is a composite of which conceptions are a part, just
as Rāzī and his followers have held.
It follows that what Ṭūsī 5 has maintained is
sound and is not open to objections. However it is not known that he subscribed
to Rāzī’s view of assent. It may be said, however, that if this is the
definition he chose in criticizing al-Muḥaṣṣal, he was subscribing to the view of its author. For, since most
scholars have disagreed with Rāzī, his successors have chosen the common view,
holding that the conclusion is a simple matter. (You should ponder this!)
In any case, it is better
than the definition attributed to the ancient philosophers, to the effect that
assent consists in the arrangement of certain matters in order to attain
something unknown, insofar as it is more specific than speculation. For it is a
definition of speculation involving a simple movement; I mean the transition from principles to objects sought, without conceiving those
objects. This is far less common in considering speculations; for it is more
common to pass from the objects sought to the principles than from this
principle to those principles. None of this, however, is involved in the above
divisions, contrary to what we have chosen, which involves both movements
simultaneously, one of which is indicated by the definition, which is the
second transition, as is clear. As for the first transition, I mean, passing
from the objects sought to the principles, as the definition necessarily
implies, where he says ‘a matter acquired’, in reference to seeking. The
intent, then, is that he has passed to a matter which he sought which is
possible only after conceiving it, since it is impossible to seek the
absolutely unknown. Ṭūsī 1 has responded to Rāzī’s2 objections to the ancients that
argument is too general to be preceded by the conception of objects sought
first. Otherwise the definition would include both parts; that is both the
least and the most. This rests on the notion that what comprises the one movement
is part of the two divisions of speculation, otherwise the definition would not
be all-inclusive. The words of Rāzī imply clearly that the lesser (of the two
parts) is not involved in it. That is why he confines definition to the more
general, since what belongs to the one movement is a matter of intuition, and
is therefore restricted to people of holy faculties.
I say that confirming the
superiority of either of the two definitions rests on the question whether
speculating about the one movement may be truly designated as reflection or is
a species thereof, on one hand; or rather that it is excluded by reason of the
fact that it is designated by a specific name, which is intuition, on the
other. Thus, if the term speculation or reflection is applied to it, that would
be purely figurative. For, on the first supposition, the definition of the
ancients would be sounder and better, because it comprises both parts and
species of speculation; while on the second supposition, it would be false
since it would then be more general than the defined, on the supposition that
we understood it in the sense of the absolute which comprises both parts. If,
however, we understand it in the more specific sense, it would define that
which is not speculation and then the definition of Rāzī and the second
explanation would be better and sounder than that of the ancients, insofar as
it excluded what is not speculation, and is then fully comprehensive, whereas
on the first assumption, it would not be sound. For it would be then more
specific than speculation, considering that definition on the basis of the more
specific is not acceptable, according to the well-informed. Moreover, we say
that on the first definition its essence would be arrangement or transition,
regardless of whether it is plural or singular; and then on the view of Rāzī,3
its essence would be transition and arrangement.
He has also stated that
knowledge is necessary due to the necessity of gratitude to the Gracious Giver,
since warding off fear cannot be achieved without it, and since
it is not necessary, due to the fact that (knowledge) is not necessary and
doesn’t arise at the inception of nature and is attended by controversy, so
that it would then be necessary by virtue of the fact that the absolutely
necessary is not possible without it.
The (author) says that by
absolute, he means that whose necessity entails the necessity of a condition,
which he excluded from the conditioned, by which we mean that whose necessity
does not entail the acquisition of its condition. For the condition would then
be a restriction of its necessity, contrary to the absolute, whose condition is
not a restriction of its necessity, since it is absolutely necessary and thus
its necessity does not require the acquisition of that on which it depends.
Moreover, knowledge contingent on speculation is not restricted by its
occurrence, so that its necessity would be dependent on its occurrence, but
rather its necessity entails that necessity and the obligation to acquire it.
Otherwise, it would entail that the obligation to do the impossible or denying
that it is absolutely necessary, assuming that the obligation to seek it
without presupposing the acquisition of its premises, is granted.
(Rāzī’s) statement that it
is the cause of its being achieved just as is the case with other causes may be
countered by saying that, although speculation is a condition of knowledge, it
is in fact one of the causes leading to it. For, the condition could be a cause
or not, speculation in relation to knowledge being both condition and cause.
The reason is that speculation generates knowledge, just as other causes
generate their effects. Thus knowledge results from it by way of generation. It
is therefore the cause of its coming to be, according to the Muʿtazilī view, just as the
movement of the key is generated by the motion of the hand, and as the concept
of causes determining their effect presupposes. Al-Ashʿarī1 by contrast held
that knowledge is created by God as a sequel of (speculation) in accordance
with the principles of habituation, just as is the case with respect to other
habits. He bases this view on the negation of the fact that causes determine
their effects and that God has established the habit that effects are created
whenever what we suppose is their cause comes to pass. For instance, burning is
the sequel of contact with fire, satiety the sequel of drinking water, and so
on. For according to them,2 there is no determinant in the world
other than God Almighty.
By contrast, the
philosophers have held that speculation is a cause which disposes the mind to
receive the emanations for the Active Intellect.3 Therefore, knowledge
ensuing upon speculation is not generated by it, according to them; it simply
disposes the mind to receive those emanations. Knowledge is then emanated to
the mind once it is disposed to turn towards the Active Principles. The
difference between their view and that of the Ashʿarites is that (knowledge) is
necessary according to the philosophers and contingent, according to the Ashʿarites.
(Rāzī) also states that
‘proof is that, knowledge of which necessitates knowledge of some other
matter’. (The author) comments that he says a ‘matter’, rather than a thing, as
is generally assumed so as to include both the non-existent and the existent.
For the object of proof could be either existent or non-existent, whereas a
thing can only be existent due to the congruence of existence and thingness,
and then the definition would not be all-inclusive. But when he said a matter,
he included everything.
I say this holds on the view
of those who say that the non-existent is not a thing; but for those who say
that the non-existent is a thing,1 the definition is all-inclusive, or it
might be said that the non-existent, once it is an object of thought, must be
conceived by the mind and then it will be a thing existing in the mind and
accordingly will be included in the definition,2 which is general.
The above definition has
also been objected to on the grounds that, if he meant by it the clear
definition, then the three modes of proof3 would be excluded,
but if he meant the unclear, then the first would be excluded and if the common
mode, then common terms will have to be used in the definition, which is not
allowed.
It may be objected that
exclusivity is not allowed, because it rests on the notion that the necessary
is a term common to both what is clear and what is not. The truth is that the
matter is different, because (the definition) is applied in reality for the
element common to both. Therefore, it is not necessary to exclude one to the
two terms, nor use what is common to both.
Ṭūsī also says that (the definition) could be purely rational or purely
transmitted.
(The author) comments that
one instance thereof is that the wine-drinker commits a grave sin. Now everyone
who commits a grave sin deserves punishment, on the grounds that deserving
punishment is a matter of oral transmission.4 As for his adding
‘or made up of both’, it may be illustrated by reference to marrying two
sisters, which the Prophet has prohibited, and whatever the Prophet has
prohibited is prohibited.5 Here, the major premise is rational,
since it depends on the truthfulness of the Prophet, which is rationally known.
As for his inferring from a
cause the effect thereof or vice versa, and from either of two effects its
counterpart; the first being of the type why and the
other that …6 (The author) says an instance of the
first is inferring the incidence of burning from contact
with fire, which is called proving by reason of the fact, since it implies
recourse to inference and existence at the same time on the part of the one who
reasons. An instance of the second is inferring contact with fire from the fact
of burning and is called factual, because it implies that the judgment is made
by the speaker, but not in the thing itself; for it is caused in reality by
what is its cause in the act of inferences. An instance of the third is
inferring from the light the existence of the day, since they are both caused
by a simple cause, which is the rising of the sun. It is called factual also,
by reason of the fact that it is merely a cause of inference. From this it can
be asserted that from the non-existence of the effect, the non-existence of the
cause may be inferred. For even if it is not the non-existence of the cause
objectively, it could still be regarded as its cause conceptually, insofar as
the non-existence of the effect is clearer to reason than the non-existence of
the cause. Hence we infer from the non-existence of the effect the
non-existence of the cause. For inferring the non-existence of the cause from
the non-existence of the effect is a factual proof; whereas, conversely,
inferring the non-existence of the effect from the non-existence of the cause
is proof by reason of the fact, insofar that the middle term in the
demonstration must be the cause of the assent to the judgment, which is the
desired point. Otherwise it would not be a demonstration of that point, even if
it be also a cause for confirming that judgment externally. That demonstration
is then by reason of the fact; otherwise it is factual regardless of whether
the middle term is the effect of the confirming of the judgment externally or
not. The first is called proof,1 but whether the second is so called
is denied, although the authorities hold that it is a proof.
The reason why they are
called factual and by reason of the fact is that by reason of the fact is
equivalent to causality; whereas factuality is a matter of actuality. Thus the
demonstration ‘by reason of the fact’ denotes the causality of judgment, mentally
and externally. It was designated as the reason why,2
which denotes causality; whereas demonstration by reference to that3 denotes the causality of judgment mentally, but not externally; since
it denotes the certainty of judgment in the mind, but not outside the mind. As
to what its cause might be is not indicated. That is why it has been given the
name that4 which denotes positive actuality. The Shaykh5 says in al-Shifāʾ that certain knowledge of whatever has a cause is possible to the
extent its cause is known. He surmised from this that factual knowledge cannot
be a demonstration, because the knowledge of the conclusion as certain is
considered a part of the demonstration. Therefore, according to his claim,
certainty is not possible unless the inference is drawn by means of the cause.
This is a weak surmise, for he has confirmed judgment to
what has a cause; but with respect to that which has no cause he allowed
factual demonstration only. For he says that if the larger belongs to the
smaller for no reason but merely for itself, but its existence is not
self-evident and the intermediate is similar, although its existence is not
self-evident either. Moreover, the existence of the larger is self-evident as
far as the intermediate is concerned. Thus, we will have an apodictic
demonstration of the factual type and not by reason of the fact.
From (Ibn Sīnā’s) words,
that if there is no cause for the certainty of the judgment externally, which
can be demonstrated factually by recourse to the cause of the judgment or
something else (which the Shaykh [Ibn Sīnā] in fact does not deny but rather
affirms), the conclusion would be that factual demonstration does not yield
certainty in some cases. However, with respect to what has a cause, it does not
yield certainty always, but only with respect to what has no cause. (So
consider his words!) He also says that it is possible for an existent to denote
its like or non-existent as well; while a non-existent may denote a
non-existent like it or an existent, too. (1) An instance of the first is
inferring from the existence of life the existence of knowledge. (2) An
instance of the second is inferring from the existence of one of two opposites,
the non-existences of the other. (3) An instance of the third is inferring from
the non-existence of life the non-existence of knowledge. (4) Finally, an
instance of the fourth is inferring from the non-existence of one of two opposites
the existence of the other.
He then says that from
purely reported statements no demonstration is possible, because
(demonstration) must be formed from certain propositions; although some have
said it can be so formed, despite the fact that it must terminate in rational
premises, just as the speculative (proof) which terminates in the necessary.
(The author) says it has
been questioned whether proof by report can be regarded as demonstration
conducive to certainty or not. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī has denied this, saying that
it does not, holding that it rests on premises which are all conjectural, and
whatever rests on conjecture is conjectural. The proof of this is that its
validity rests on the infallibility of the reporters. Guarding against error in
grammar, conjugation and language and the absence of abrogation, implication,
allegory, specification, community, rational and oral protest, advancing and
retarding—all these are conjectural matters, which do not yield certainty.
Rāzī,1 has objected that
we know absolutely that it yields (certainty), as in the words of the Almighty,
‘Say, He is God the only One’2 due to the certainty of divine
oneness, and we also know the absence of all those things mentioned absolutely,
most of the sound3 verses in the Qurʾān being of this type.
I say
it will be seen from his words that decisive knowledge is based on sound
expression that it negates all other things in it and they are ascertained upon
the acquisition of that knowledge. For knowing that they are negated is drawn
from the certainty of their soundness, not that their certainty is drawn from
the knowledge of their negation so as to depend on it, so that the knowledge
would be conjectural, as Rāzī imagined. In fact, the truth is the reverse,
because the assertion in most cases is well determined. Yet, had he said that
this invalidates some forms of knowledge by hearsay, his case would be strong.
It is also said that such
(reported knowledge) does not yield certainty unless it finally reaches reason,
because it depends on the truthfulness of the reporter, which is a rational
proposition. Now, once it reaches reason, it ceases to be purely reported knowledge
and is said by some to actually yield certainty, although it is stipulated that
it must reach reason and although the necessity of reaching it does not change
its status as reported knowledge. For theoretical knowledge conducing to
necessity does not cause its reaching (reason) from being theoretical. The same
is true of reported knowledge; otherwise it would not be possible to construct
a demonstration from purely theoretical data, since it must terminate in
necessity.
Now, were its termination in
necessary knowledge to entail that it is not theoretical, then the term
demonstration would not apply except to that which is made up of two necessary
premises. But convention rejects this and therefore this one principle would
apply to reported knowledge too. Moreover, were it necessitated by its being
purely non-theoretical, then it would have to be negated. But just as the term
theoretical is not negated from it, the purely reported would not be negated of
that which is made up of two reported premises, due to the necessity of its
terminating in what is purely rational, while being reported without any
difference.
(Rāzī’s) statement that
knowledge is not acquired by imitation, because it circulates among people
without gaining any probability, and because two contradictory propositions
will result from granting it, add to this that the Messenger1
is commanded to know. It follows that others are so commanded by way of
example; the first obligation, it is said, being knowledge. However, it is also
said to consist in speculation, without which knowledge is not possible; or to
consist in seeking it, since speculation is a voluntary act without which
knowledge is not possible.
(The author) says there has
been some disagreement as to what is the primary obligation of the responsible
believer. Most theologians (mutakallimūn) have stated
that the first obligation is knowledge, because everything else is contingent
on it, so that the necessarily obligatory is really knowledge. It is this that ʿAlī,2 peace on him,
intended in his saying that ‘the beginning of religion is knowledge’. Others
have said that the first obligation is speculation, because knowledge depends
on it, so that it should be antecedent to it. A third scholar has said that it
begins with the intention to speculate, which is a
voluntary act, any voluntary act being preceded by intention. Therefore,
speculation should be preceded by intention and is therefore obligatory prior
to it. Should you say that it follows from the universal first premise that
intention should be preceded by intention, since it is a voluntary act too and
should depend on it too, which would lead to an infinite regression, I would
answer that the minor premise is excluded. For intention is not one of the
voluntary acts, since the will cannot be willed, and therefore it does not
follow that intention should be preceded by intention. The juridical
traditionalists1 have held that all obligations depend on intention, except will and
speculation, which defines the necessity of knowledge, for fear of (infinite)
regression. Some have said that the first obligation is absolute because what
is sought in speculation cannot be something known, due to the impossibility of
proving the obvious; nor unknown, due to the absurdity of the soul seeking what
is does not feel. Therefore it is necessary that the (object of speculation)
should be known in some respect, while its acquisition and perfect conception
or the affirmation and negation of judgment are open to doubt, and then
speculation would be preceded by doubt. (Rāzī) has objected to this on the
grounds that the above-mentioned doubt, which may precede speculation, is not
intended but takes place without the choice of the religiously responsible.
Therefore it is not feasible and cannot be the object of obligation.
I say that this objection
applies to those who speak of intention. For, although it precedes speculation,
it does not entail its necessity, because it is not a voluntary act. Otherwise
intention would depend on it, as already mentioned, and then it would not be
one of the obligations, unless we say that it is a voluntary act and then it
will be what it is.
Rāzī has spoken well in
detail here; for he says that if by primary obligations is meant what is
necessary in itself and by virtue of the first intention, it would then consist
in the knowledge of God necessarily, because it is intended essentially and
everything else, whether speculation or intention, would be intended
accidentally. If the obligatory haphazardly is meant, then it undoubtedly
refers to intended speculation, because it precedes everything; and then the
dispute would be solved.
He also states that being
and not-being are indefinable, because they are known intuitively and therefore
are simple and have no genus or differentia. Judging their contradiction
intuitively therefore depends on the knowledge of their essence, assent being
always preceded by conception.
(The author) says that he2
started to investigate being and not-being and to show that they are necessary
and do not require acquisition. However, controversy has raged over this
question, the ancient philosophers and the mutakallimūn
holding that they are known by acquisition and can be defined and described
like any other essences, giving some weak definitions thereof which will be
mentioned later.
As to
authoritative scholars, they have maintained that they do not require definition
because they are known intuitively and so do not need to be acquired, while
differing on whether their intuitiveness is known intuitively or requires
acquisition. Rāzī and his followers have chosen the second view, saying that
(being and not-being) are intuitive, knowledge of their intuitiveness being
dependent on acquisition, which implies that the conception of being and
not-being, as described externally by intuition, does not require knowledge of
what intuition is, so as to demonstrate it and ensure that knowledge is gained
by it. The majority of scholars, however, subscribe to the first view, the
author inclining to this view in his statement that they are intuitively known,
etc. For every reasonable person observes by himself the knowledge thereof;1
since nothing is more obvious to him than the fact that he exists and that he
is not divested of knowledge of absolute being and not-being, except insofar as
they are the source of that judgment. For judgment depends on the conception of
its components; but having been established that assent does not presuppose the
knowledge of the object or the subject of judgment in reality, it does not
follow from the affirmation of their judgment that conception of being and
not-being in reality is possible. Admittedly, they are conceived in some sense
of the term, but this is not the problem. It may also be answered that these
disputations affect the seeker of proof, not the one drawing attention to it,
whose procedure here is the second and therefore he need not be questioned. Now
(being and not-being) being intuitive concepts whose intuitiveness is known
intuitively, they do not need a formal or methodical definition and are instead
simple essences, in so for as they are among the most general knowable
concepts. In fact, nothing is higher than they so as to be subsumed under it,
as the genus thereof; and then each one of them is distinguished by some
differentia or other, so as to define or describe them. The fact is that they
have no genus, because they are not included in any category, and since they
have no genus, they will have no differentia, and whatever has no genus or
differentia belongs to the category of simple knowables conceived by reason.
1. Parentheses indicate that
the terms enclosed are understood or required for clarity.
2. al-Ḥakīm usually refers to Ibn Sīnā.
3. That is, the Active
Intellect.
4. Abu’l Ḥasan al-Ashʿarī who died in 939.
1. al-Wahm,
also known as al-wāhimah, or estimative faculty.
2. Ishrāq.
1. Ibn Sīnā.
2. Ibn Sīnā.
1. al-Mabdaʾ wa’l-maʿād.
2. Or judgment, Arabic taṣdīq.
1. Ishrāqī
sages.
1. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī (d. 1209)
author of al-Muḥaṣṣal referred to later.
2. Ṭūsī (d. 1274).
3. A work of Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī.
4. Original al-Khwājah.
5. Ibid.
1. Original ʿAllāmah.
2. Original al-Muḥaqqiq.
3. al-Muḥaqqiq.
1. Abu’l-Ḥasan al-Ashʿarī (d. 935) founder of the
Ashʿarī
theological movement.
2. i.e. the Ashʿarites.
3. This was the view of Ibn
Sīnā (d. 1037) and his followers.
1. That is, the Muʿtazilites.
2. That is the definition Rāzī
rejected as above.
3. The three modes of proof in
Aristotelian logic.
4. Samīʿī, that is, based on what is
reported on the authority of the Qurʾān.
5. Ḥarām.
6. This corresponds to the
distinction in Aristotelian logic between proof by reference to the fact (that)
and by the reason of the fact (li-mā).
1. Arabic dalīl.
2. li-mā.
3. anna.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibn Sīnā (d. 1037) author of
al-Shifāʾ.
1. Original al-Muḥaqqiq.
2. Qurʾān 112:1.
3. In Qurʾān 3:7, Qurʾānic verses are divided into
‘precise’ or ‘sound’ (muḥkamāt) or ‘ambiguous’ (mutashābihāt). Only the former are regarded as certain or
indisputable.
1. Or the Prophet Muḥammad.
2. That is, Imam ʿAlī ibn ʿAbī Ṭālib.
1. al-Uṣūliyyūn.
2. Rāzī.
1. That is, being and
non-being.
Mullā Ṣadrā
Ṣadrā al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm Shīrāzī known as Mullā Ṣadrā is one of the greatest of Islamic
philosophers and the reviver of Islamic philosophy in Persia in the eleventh/
seventeenth century. Because of his eminence, he was given the title of Ṣadrā al-mutaʿallihīn or ‘foremost among the God-like philosophers’. Mullā Ṣadrā was born into an
aristocratic family in Shiraz c.979/1571–1572 and
received the best education possible in his city of birth, developing into a
serious seeker of the truth while still very young. He exhibited great
intellectual acumen and at the same time piety and strong love of God from his
early days, characteristics that were to remain with him throughout his life.
Having mastered Arabic and Persian, Qurʾānic studies and to the extent possible the ‘intellectual sciences’ (al-ʿulūm al-ʿaqliyyah) in Shiraz, he set out for Isfahan which was then the great centre of
intellectual activity and Islamic philosophy.
In Isfahan Mullā Ṣadrā studied for years
with the founder of the School of Isfahan, Mīr Dāmād, and also with Bahāʾ al-Dīn ʿĀmilī. It is not certain
whether he also studied with Mīr Findiriskī, the third great intellectual
figure of the day in Isfahan, or not. Soon Mullā Ṣadrā became a well-known philosopher himself
and since he spoke and wrote plainly of philosophical subjects with a gnostic
bent, he incurred the opposition of some of the more exoteric ʿulamāʾ. Finding himself in a
difficult political position and not wanting to repeat the events that befell
Suhrawardī, he left Isfahan travelling to different cities and finally settling
in the small village of Kahak near Qum where he spent some seven years—eleven
years according to some—in contemplation, meditation and study.
It was at the invitation of
the governor of Fārs, Allāhwirdī Khān, that Mullā Ṣadrā returned from Kahak to the city of his
birth, Shiraz, where he was to spend the last decades of his life. There, a
beautiful school called Madrasa-yi Khān, which still stands, was built for him,
and students from all over Persia and even outside of Persia from as far away
as Tibet, came to study with him. These years in Shiraz were the most
productive period of his life as a writer when he wrote most of his books. Being the devout person that he was, Mullā Ṣadrā made the pilgrimage
to Mecca on foot seven times and while on the seventh pilgrimage in 1050/1640
he died in Basra where he was buried.
Mullā Ṣadrā founded a school of
Islamic philosophy called al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah (Transcendent
Theosophy) and wrote over forty important works in both philosophy and the
religious sciences including Qurʾānic commentaries. Except for one treatise, a few letters and some
poems, all of his writings are in Arabic. His magnum opus
is al-Asfār al-arbaʿah (The Four Journeys) which is considered in Persia to this day the most
advanced text for the study of Islamic philosophy. Mullā Ṣadrā also wrote a number
of commentaries on earlier mashshāʾī and ishrāqī works. Among these, his glosses
upon the commentary of Quṭb al-Shīrāzī on Suhrawardī’s Ḥikmat al-ishrāq is
particularly significant as an independent ishrāqī
work and is therefore included in this section.
We shall deal fully with
Mullā Ṣadrā
and his al-ḥikmah al-mutaʿāliyah in the next volume of this Anthology where
we hope to discuss the School of Isfahan. But even in the short introduction
here, it is necessary to point out his vast influence in Persia and Muslim
India although, strangely, not in the Ottoman world as was the case with such
earlier figures as Suhrawardī and Dawānī. Mullā Ṣadrā trained a number of important students,
such as Mullā Muḥsin Fayḍ Kāshānī and ʿAbd al-Razzāq Lāhījī, students who, along with his numerous works, made
possible the propagation of the teachings of the master. Mullā Ṣadrā’s immediate students
sometimes veiled his teachings because of unfavourable political circumstances,
but nevertheless it is through them that the chain of teachers connects so many
great masters of Islamic philosophy in Qajar, Pahlavi and contemporary Persia
to the founder of al-ḥikmah al-mutaʿāliyah.
Fifty years ago Mullā Ṣadrā was hardly known in
the West. Now, not only is there a veritable revival of his thought, and in
fact of Islamic philosophy itself around his teachings in Persia, but he is
also becoming well known both in other Islamic counties and in the West. Major
international conferences on him have catalyzed activity in editing, analysing
and translating his works into European languages, especially English and
French. There is now even a journal published in English, entitled Transcendent Philosophy, that is dedicated primarily to the
philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā and its later development and interaction with other schools of
thought including Western ones. The full significance of Mullā Ṣadrā in the philosophical
scene in Persia during the past four centuries will, we hope, become clearer in
the next volume of this work.
In this chapter we have
included Mullā Ṣadrā’s glosses upon the commentary of Suhrawardī’s Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq, these glosses being one of the most
important works of the ishrāqī tradition.
S. H. Nasr
GLOSSES UPON THE COMMENTARY OF THE
PHILOSOPHY OF ILLUMINATION
Taʿlīqāt ʿalā sharḥ ḥikmat al-ishrāq
Translated for this volume by Majid Fakhry
from Mullā Ṣadrā’, Taʿlīqāt ʿalā
sharḥ ḥikmat al-ishrāq, ed. Muḥammad Mūsawī (Tehran,
1315 Sh./1936), pp. 37–48.
Exposition of the Conditions of Human
Souls upon Departing their Bodies
1. He1 says, may God
sanctify his secret: ‘As for the domination by the higher world, it is not
corruptive (of the soul).’
Having said that the souls,
upon contact with dominant lights, will experience pleasure and passion, he
sensed that a question may arise here; namely how can they experience pleasure,
while dominated and obliterated by the dominant arms of pride? He removed this
difficulty by asserting that the dominance of the higher world is not
corruptive of what lies beneath it. This is true of every world bound to it in
point of perfection, completeness and unity, rather than in point of
multiplicity, otherness and jealousy. For, it is characteristic of the
vegetative and animal (souls), which are subordinated in man to the dominance
of the rational faculty, that they are not corrupted by it, but are rather
perfected and completed by the rational (faculty), insofar as they are bound to
it by way of causality. The conjunctive bond of an entity consists in
strengthening or perfecting it, unlike the vegetative and animal bonds that
exist outside the human community. For the former two could be corrupted or
nullified by virtue of difference and contrariety in relation to some of their
faculties. The same is true of the forms of the elements that are subject to
some natural power that perfects or completes them, as well as those which
exist as distinct from or contrary to them or that which lies beneath them. In
short, the dominance of the lower by the higher in this world could be either
corrupting or perfecting thereof; whereas the dominance found in the higher
world appears to be a cause of either reform or completion, but never of
corruption except by accident. However, the discussion of (this subject)
requires a lot of analysis and exposition conducive to prolixity.
2. His statement,
‘sanctified by God’s holiness’ refers to what we mentioned regarding the total
annihilation of souls and the repudiation of duality, since he does not say
‘sanctioned by God’s sanctification?’
3. He says, may his secret
be sanctified: ‘The cause of their manifestation conflicts in some higher
isthmus.’2
Those
ideal and suspended forms do not need a receptive bearer, but only an agent. If
that agent happens to be a psychic faculty attached to matter, it would need,
in order to arise, a determinant, such as an instrument or the like. If it
happens to be a faculty independent of matter, such as pure reason, or one
attached to the world of shadows beneath the world of matter, it would need, in
order to arise, a determinant or cause of manifestation drawn from this world,
due to its independent being. For an independent being is externally
independent in point of origination and invention (as he has explained),
according to his desire and wish. However, we have refuted elsewhere the view
of some scholars, which the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) has described in al-Shifāʾ as apparently true, and described its upholder as one who is not
careless in speech, in the context of his assertion that souls which are
perfect in knowledge might cling to some heavenly bodies and become subjects of
their imaginations. True, there is no objection to saying that some human souls
might have the same status as souls which manage some of the spheres, while
others have the same status as that soul, whose sphere is higher than that
sphere or lower than it; so that one might say ʿĪsā (peace on him) occupies the fourth
sphere while Mūsā (peace on him) occupies the sixth.
4. He says: ‘And it belongs
to it to originate the ideal entities and the power at the same time.’
You should know that those
who have fully ascertained this position are able to assert corporal
resurrection without undue hardship or toil. The proof is that the soul, just
as it is able by virtue of its rational faculty to acquire intelligibles and to
possess them actually without the assistance of the body, does not require any
corporal matter, thanks to its imaginative faculty and its imaginative
activities, as you have learned from us earlier. For, if the soul, upon
departing the lower world, still retains its estimative1 faculty which
apprehends particular notions and corporal forms, by means of the imagination
and the imaginative faculty; then it is able to apprehend by itself or by means
of that faculty certain corporal matters whose cognitive and imaginative
apprehension is identical with its essential existence. The reason is the
conjunction of its faculties in a single faculty which is the imagination and
its lack of diversification or concern for what the senses receive from various
sources, as well as the absence of its obsession with the management of the
physical body and what distracts it of the accidents of that physical and
material mode of existence, which is constantly in renewal and flux. For, once
all its faculties have been reduced2 to a single faculty which is the
faculty of picture-forming or representation, its imaginative activity will
become identical with sensation and its imaginative perception identical with
its sensuous perception.
Similarly
its hearing, smelling, and tasting and imaginative touch, which are all
sensuous and amount to five in appearance occupying different positions, are
all in reality a single common sense internally. This is confirmed by what the
Master Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) has stated in al-Taʿlīqāt (The Appendices, or Glosses) to the effect that ‘the souls of plants
influence our souls, but our souls do not influence them, because they do not
have multiple faculties, whereas our faculties are multiple, some of those
faculties barring other faculties from performing their work in full, as they
bar the imaginative faculty from performing its work in full. When they are not
so barred, their work is performed in full, as happens in the case of a
sleeper. The faculties of the planets, by contrast, are not barred by each
other; that is why their action emanates from them in full, their faculties not
being multiple; but are rather like a single faculty. The visual faculty in
them is the same as the hearing and is identical with the picturing faculty.
That is why those faculties amount to a single faculty which is able to
influence us, while we cannot influence it.’ (This is where his words end and
their support of what we are holding is clear.)
As for his words ‘as in the
case of the sleeper’, no one should understand by them that the action of the
imagination is fully perfect in the sense conceived with reference to them,
without the impact of the other faculties. For that does not take place except
after death, insofar as the sleeper is not entirely free of actions occupying
the imagination, such as digestion, attraction, physical and psychic motions
and the like. Otherwise sleep would be a form of other-worldly waking, to which
the Commander of the Faithful,1 (peace on him), refers in these words:
‘People while they live are asleep; when they die they shall awake.’
If this is established, we
will assent, as some eminent scholars have done, confirming what the Master
Shaykh has reported in al-Risālah al-adhawiyyah
(Epistle of Daybreak) on the authority of some learned scholars that, when a
man dies, his soul departs fully conscious of itself, accompanied with the
imaginative faculty, which apprehends particulars, but not by way of impression
or receptivity, but rather by way of invention and activity (as we have
ascertained), then it imagines itself departing the lower world and imagines
its body as identical with the buried dead person in form, and apprehends the
pains which affect it in the form of sensuous punishments, according to what
the religious laws have described. This in fact is the ‘torture of the grave’.
If, however, that soul happens to be felicitous, it will imagine itself in a
convenient way and encounter the promised states in accordance with what it
used to believe in life, with respect to such things as gardens, rivers,
groves, boys, children, wide-eyed beauties2 and the full cup.
This is the ‘reward of the grave’. That is why (the Prophet) has said: ‘The
grave is either one of the gardens of paradise or one of the ditches of fire.’
The real grave is one of those states and the punishment and reward of the
grave are as we mentioned; the second genesis consisting
in the soul’s emergence from these conditions, just as the embryo emerges from
the solid abode,1 as the Almighty has said: ‘Say: “He who originated them the first time
will bring them back to life and He has knowledge of every creation”.’ (Qurʾān 36:79)
5. He says: ‘The various
types of food will be brought forward.’
Everything which man
relishes and desires in the Abode of Paradise will be brought forward and will
be available to him, according to what you have learned with respect to the
fact that their imaginative existence is identical with their sensuous
existence. The difference between the two modes of existence consists in the
fact that, so long as the soul, occupied with the body, continues to cling to it
in one of two ways, the first being that sensation is dependent on encountering
the matter of sensation as something external to it, while, imagination
consists in the mere production by the imaginative faculty of a form which does
not exist outside the faculty of apprehension. The second is that the sensible
object is more potent and more obvious than the imagined object and has a
greater impact in terms of pleasure or pain. In the Hereafter those two
differences are removed; in fact in the Hereafter matters are stronger in their
existence and more easily acquired, due to their simplicity. They are also less
liable to diffusion in material substrates, being similar to the core, while
the latter are similar to dust and crust. It is true that the material existence
of entities in this world is different from their concepts and therefore its
conception does not entail the same thing as its actual existence; whereas the
actual existence of entities in the Hereafter is identical with their formal
and intellectual existence. That is why the pleasure experienced in connection
with the pleasurable thereof and the pain experienced in connection with the
painful thereof is greater.
6. He says (may his secret
be sanctified): ‘And those forms are more perfect than what we have (in this
world).’
Some metaphysical experts
have said that man’s enjoyment of pleasant pictures arises from their
impressions on the imagination and sensation, rather than from their existence
outside. For were they to exist outside, but did not exist in one’s senses by impression,
there would be no pleasure; whereas were the impression to remain in the sense
faculty, while it has ceased outside, his pleasure would endure. As for the
imaginative faculty, it has the power to invent forms in this world, but its
invented forms are imagined and not sensed or imprinted on the visual faculty.
That is why if one were to invent the most beautiful pictures and imagined them
as present or observed, his pleasure would not increase; for he would not be
actually observing them, as happens in sleep. Were the imagination capable of
picturing them in the sensitive faculty, as it is in the imaginative, his
pleasure would be great and the pictures would be equivalent to those that
exist outside. His experience then would not be
different from that of the Hereafter in this sense, except with respect to the
power of representing the picture in question in the visual faculties; and then
everything he desires will be present to him at once. His desire could then be
due to his imagination and his imagination to the visual faculty; that is, due
to its impression in that faculty. Then, nothing desirable occurs to him but
will come to be present at once; that is exist before him so that he can see
it. To this (the Prophet), may God bless him and his folk, refers in his
saying: ‘There is in Paradise a market where pictures are sold’; the market
here being a reference to divine grace which is the source of the power to
create pictures at will, wherein the impression in the visual faculty would be
permanent so long as it is desired and is not subject to cessation
involuntarily, as happens in sleep in this world. That power is vaster and
fuller than the power of production of what exists outside the senses; for that
which exists outside the senses does not exist in two places. That is why when
it is observed by one viewer, it becomes hidden from another, while the
(other-worldly) type continues to expand without limit or obstruction. The
occurrence of otherworldly matters is vaster in scope and more satisfying.
These are his1
words, which we find to be the closest of the words of learned and eminent
scholars to ascertaining corporal resurrection. However, they do not attain the
level of true perfection or the desired goal; for they still require some
further completing and perfecting, based on certain premises which neither he
nor anybody else has grasped. We will show you shortly that neither he not his
peers have been able, in point of affirmative demonstration, to prove corporal resurrection
and the realization of the promised other-worldly forms, except to the extent
they are attached to some heavenly body or material appearance, or are
interpreted in pure rational terms.
The (above-mentioned)
premises and principles are actually numerous and we have discussed each one of
them in the right place. These include:
1. That the existence of
every reality is that which exists externally; essence is consequent on it and
is united to it in some form of union.
2. Existence is
susceptible of intensity or debility in itself.
3. Essential existence is
capable of intensity and perfectibility, as well as procession from a natural
mode of generation to a higher one.
4. The
form of every compound is equivalent to its fundamental reality or essence.
Matter, by contrast, is the substratum of its possibility and the power to
exist, but has nothing to do with its substantive reality. The same is true of
the ultimate differentia of everything which has a variety of genera2
and differentiae, such as man for instance, and which amounts to its
fundamental identity and essence. As for other things called differentiae or
genera, they are simply its external accessories or accretions
that it requires as far as its external and material generation is concerned.
If speculation is trained on that form in itself it will be found to constitute
the source of the existence of those accessories and the essence of
aggregation, as far as the essence is concerned, its essence is what confirms
all its connotations.
5. The
essence of the body and its individuation are due to the soul. If its
parts change as happens in the course of the individual’s life; and if this
body is replaced by a risen body at the Resurrection, while the soul remains
the same, (the individual) remains the same in point of his psychic form: and
thus this individual is not the same as the other in point of matter, both
statements being true.1
6. What we have asserted
and proved to the effect that the imaginative faculty is an entity distinct
from the matter of the body.
7. Imaginative forms are
not impressed on the imagination, but rather subsist in it in the same way a
thing subsists in its agent rather than its patient.
8. The
form perceived in itself exists without being impressed on an external matter
or a visual organ, in accordance with what was mentioned to the effect that
vision is not a matter of radiation travelling towards an external object or
making an impression on the eye. Nor its it a relation of the soul to
what lies outside, but is rather the emergence of form within the soul,
emanating from the worldly illumination of reason when the organ is sound and
the right conditions are fulfilled. This illuminative relation extends from the
soul to that apprehensive and luminous form, rather than the external and
material form which is dark in itself, as the author contends. In this world,
there is no difference between vision or imagination, except insofar as the
former necessarily requires a corporal organ, as well as the corporal matter of
vision, which is not required in the act of imagining. However, when the soul
departs this world and the body is separated from it, the imaginative faculty;
I mean, the guardian of common sense, having been deprived of the element of
potentiality, imperfection or deficiency and has actually become perfect in
point of retention and action—it would have become in itself the principle of
vision, hearing, taste, smell and touch, without requiring a multitude of
different, external organs. At that point apprehending desirable objects and
the power to find them would become one thing, emanating from a single faculty,
which is the essence of the animal, imaginative soul. The proof that Shaykh
al-Ghazzālī2 and other adepts of official wisdom have not grasped the nature of
corporal resurrection and the proof that quantitative forms exist perceptibly
in no substratum or associated with any phenomenon of this world, is that he
has stated in his work of al-Maḍnūn
bihi ʿalā ghayr ahlihi (What
Should be Withheld from the Unworthy) to the effect: ‘You might possibly say
that those sensuous and imaginative pleasures which are promised in paradise,
cannot be apprehended except by means of the corporal and imaginative
faculty. Now those corporal faculties cannot be imagined as generated except by
the body. The same is true of the “tortures of the grave” and of hellfire which
cannot be apprehended except through corporal faculties; but when the spirit
leaves the body, its parts dissolve and the sensitive and imaginative faculty
ceases. How then can that be demonstrated?’
You should know that this is
rejected by those who repudiate corporal resurrection and assert the
impossibility of the soul’s reunion with the body. However, there is no real
proof of its impossibility; and in fact it is not too far-fetched to assume
that some heavenly bodies may be provided for the soul’s imagination and
sensation following death and resurrection. What the ancients have advanced in
support of its impossibility does not constitute a real proof, since the holy
law1 has mentioned it, so that it ought to be believed.
The proof that this has not
been demonstrated by the philosophers is that the foremost modern philosopher,
Abū ʿAlī
ibn Sīnā, has demonstrated this in both al-Najāt
(Salvation) and al-Shifāʾ (Healing) where he says: ‘It is not
excluded that some heavenly bodies might have been created in order to enable
the soul to partake of imagination after death.’ He reports this on the
authority of one whom he has praised highly and described as ‘no risk-taker’,2
asserting that that this is not impossible. This shows that he is skeptical in
this matter and has no proof in support of it; but were it really impossible,
he would not have described its expositor as ‘no risk-taker’. For what greater
risk is there than asserting the impossible!
I say you should know
regarding his position and that of the two masters, Abū ʿAlī (Ibn Sīnā) and Abū Naṣr (al-Fārābī), who is
described as ‘no risk-taker’, that they did not proceed in their attempt to
prove corporal resurrection beyond the possibility that some of the (heavenly)
bodies of this world may be assigned to the imaginings of the promised forms of
those imperfect souls only. The view of the author3 also resembles what
he4 says and turns on, especially in al-Talwīḥāt (Allusions), where he has asserted that it is right; although what is
mentioned on this point in this book5 is closer to the truth. We praise God
who has guided us to this, which we would not have been led to but for His
guidance. To Him our thanks are due for His generosity and fullness of grace.
7. He says, may his
secret be sanctified: ‘They will be immortal therein, because of their enduring
relation to the isthmuses.’
The Shaykh6
has interpreted the immortality of the souls of the blessed who are
intermediate in their blessedness, by stating that the subjects to which they
cling, namely the heavenly bodies, are incorruptible. This is open to the
following criticisms:
First, the clinging of the
souls after departing the body to a heavenly body is wrong, as we have
explained in our book, al-Mabdaʾ
wa’l-maʿād (Beginning and
Resurrection) and have referred to it earlier.
Second, you have learned
that the forms accorded to the soul in the other world do not subsist in any of
the external bodies, and the soul does not need, in order to contemplate forms
brought before it, any object external to it, such as the mirror or its like in
this world. For the need for a positive external instrument, such as the
mirror, depends on the need for a corporal and physical organ, such as
eyesight, and if not then not.
Third, bodies in this world,
whether heavenly or elemental, do not endure by themselves for two moments, but
only in relation to the species, due to the recurrence of material forms or
their flux in accordance with the recurrence of similar types of succession for
states and shapes. As for other worldly forms, by contrast, they are preserved
in being by means of their preservation by those active principles which are
free of potentiality and disposition, unlike material (forms) which depend on
the occurrence of the passive motions of matter and the succession of their
possibilities, as we have shown in the treatise which deals with the generation
of the universe as a whole. If this is the case, there is no reason for
interpreting the eternity of what exists in the other world or its permanence,
by reference to the permanence of this world which is constantly renewed and is
perishable and vain.
8. He says: ‘As for the
heirs of misery who are…’
You should know that God
Almighty has made the substances of the souls different in essence, either with
respect to the origin of nature or the acquisition of virtues or vices. Thus,
some are good, luminous and noble, inclined to divine things, mightily desirous
of contact with spiritual and rational entities, on which their resurrection
depends; while others are base, dark and evil, inclined towards dense corporal
entities. Still others are intermediate between goodness and wickedness,
falling halfway between the rational and sensuous entities. The first group
consists of the favoured and are the people of sanctity, their world being the
world of reason and intelligibles; the second consists of the party of the
left, the criminals and lowered chins, whose rank is that of inferior natures.
The intermediate group consists of various classes diverging in subtlety or
density, as the commentator has indicated, their world being the world of
measurable forms that are absent to worldly senses, but not other worldly
senses. They include, however, the felicitous and the ‘people of the right’!
If this is established, you
should know that some, like the author of the Brethren of
Purity, and others, have held that Hell actually denotes the word of
generation and corruption, while fire refers to that nature which destroys the
bodies which dominate the figures and skins, by means of dissolution,
alteration or dissention in the shortest time. However,
sometimes the nutritive faculty replaces those bodies, as the Almighty says:
‘Every time their skins are burnt, we will replace them by other skins, so that
they might taste the punishment.’ (Qurʾān 4:56); and as He also says: ‘Then guard yourselves against the Fire
whose fuel is men and stones, prepared for the unbelievers’ (Qurʾān 2:24) and as He says:
‘You and what you worship besides God are the fuel of Hell’ (Qurʾān 21:98). Those
elemental bodies have a nature that disposes of them through roasting and
transformation. Therefore, they have assumed that the fire mentioned in the Qurʾān is that nature flowing
through sensuous bodies, especially those beneath the lowest heaven. What
confirms that assumption, which is false according to us as you have learnt, is
the fact that all natural entities are transient and perishable and thus are
subject to corruption due to their being dominated by nature, through
management, alteration and dissolution. The same is true of the soul, so long
as it clings to this (earthly) body and is united to it, being influenced by
nature, both in itself and its sensuous faculties. It is actually affected by
the impact of the fires of that nature which are latent in the body, in the
form of dissipation, dissolution and the drying up of the good humidity which
it receives from nutrition step by step continuously until death. The same
applies to their view of the soul being affected by the heat of lust and the
fire of anger and the like; as well as its suffering due to the incidence of
pains, snakes (?) and hurts, whose origin is destructive nature. This nature
was created by God for the sake of repelling corruptive elements, although the
advantage in the original existence of nature and its stoking the instinctive
head is actually the fulfilment of the rational soul of man, so long as it
dwells in the body, and that by means of those changes and transformations,
that he might return to his own people joyfully.
If man is lifted from this
world to the world of conception and reasoning, he will be rid of the torment
of the fires, since nature exists only in this world. What confirms their
conjecture also is that the number of the demons and porters of Hell is the
same as the number of the subservient faculties that manage animal bodies. The
same is true of the fact that (Hell’s) gates are seven, just as the gates of
the natural faculties which open unto the hell of the body from the world of
the soul are seven. For the origin of the faculties stems from their world and
they are actually accessible to the people of Hell, whether humans or jinn;
whereas the gate of the heart is closed in the face of those whose hearts God
has marked. That is why they are described in the Qurʾān as the lowest of the low, elemented
nature being the same; for Hell is nature.
He1 has said in chapter
ninety-one of al-Futūḥāt (Revelations): ‘You should know that Hell is one of the greatest
creations; for it is God’s prison in the hereafter.’ It was called Gehenna,
because of its deep bottom. (We say jahannam2
for deep bottom, since it was deep-bottomed and
contained hot and cold regions, both its cold and hot climates reaching their
highest degree. Between its highest and lowest points seventy-five hundred
years pass, as the Almighty’s words indicate: ‘And whenever it abates We shall
rekindle its flames.’ (Qurʾān 17:97). However, fire is sensuous and the fiery form is not
described as more or less except insofar as it inheres in corporal matter. For
the fiery reality does not conform to this description in itself, but only the
body burning in fire which is subject to the fiery (power). It is said that the
above verse means that whenever it abates, meaning the fire that affects their
bodies (it is abated) through the cessation of desire or anger at the weakening
of the faculties due to disease. ‘We increased them’, refers to those who
suffer, since (the verse) does not say ‘We increased it’, in reference to
torture, affecting their inner parts by being infected by habits or illnesses
in their souls, which are worse than sensuous torture. For God incites in their
inner parts reflection on what they used to neglect of God’s commands. Thus
their inner torture would be stronger than torture associated with sensuous
fire burning their bodies. The source of the former torture is the fire of the
‘soul commanding evil’, which affects the hearts. To this the Almighty refers
in these words: ‘There is not one of you but will go down to it (i.e. the
Fire). That is for your Lord a decree which must be accomplished. Then We shall
deliver the righteous, and leave the wrongdoers therein on their knees.’ (Qurʾān 19:71–72)
(Ibn ʿArabī) says in al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah:
‘Whoever understands the meaning of these words would understand the position
of Hellfire. Had the Prophet said anything when he was asked, I would have said
something myself, but having remained silent, saying later that only God knows,
our silence in this case is the right thing.’ Moreover, Fire is not
well-received by any monotheist who knows his soul as it has attained the level
of reason in act and has transcended the level of sense-perception and
instinct, as one of the Imams (peace on them), has said upon being asked about
the whole of the Almighty’s statement: ‘There is not one of you but will go down
to it’: ‘We crossed it when it was not burning.’ Add to this other statements
which indicate that (Hell) lies in the lowest world, and those statements which
indicate that it lies in the lowest heaven, as reported in reference to the
account of the Prophet’s ascent (miʿrāj) to heaven. For, he saw in the lowest heaven, Malik, the treasurer of
Hell, who opened for him one of the paths of fire to look at, and so there
reached him puffs of its smoke and flames to his left from the gate. It was
also reported that Ibn ʿAbbās has said: ‘This fire (of Hell) lies beneath seven closed seas.’
Further evidence that the
fire of Hell lies in the sea is what is reported about the Commander of the
Faithful (peace on him) that he asked a Jew: ‘Where does Fire lie according to
your scripture?’ The latter answered: ‘In the sea’, whereupon (the
Commander of the Faithful)1 said: ‘I think that is right’, for (the
Qurʾān)
says: By ‘the roaring sea’ (52:6). It is also reported in the commentaries (of
the Qurʾān)
that the ‘roaring sea’ is the fire; as is reported that the Messenger of God
(may God bless him and his folk) has said: ‘No one can ply the sea except as a
raider or a pilgrim, because there is a fire beneath the sea.’ Al-Thaʿlabī has reported in his
commentary in reference to the Messenger of God that he said: ‘There is in the
sea fire upon fire.’ It is also reported that some of the ancestors have said
in reference to the Almighty’s words: ‘They urge you to hasten the punishment,
Hell shall surely encompass the unbelievers (Qurʾān 29:54)’, that Hell is the sea, that
encompasses them within the planets, and spreads so it catches fire, becoming
Hell thereby.
It is also reported that
al-Dahhāk has said in reference to the Almighty’s words: ‘They were drowned and
were hurled into the Fire (Qurʾān 71:25)’: ‘They are in a sad condition in the world and will the
drowned on the one hand, and confounded on the other!’
There are many other
interpretations of this condition which is also reported equally in the sayings
of the ancients. Thus Socrates says: ‘As for those who committed grave sins,
they will be cast into Tartaros and will never come out if it. But those who
repent from their sins throughout their life will only be cast into Tartaros to
suffer for a whole year, then the waves will carry them to a place from which
they will call their enemies, asking them to be content with punishment, so
that they might be spared the other evils. If they are excused they will be
saved; otherwise they will be returned to Tartaros and this will continue to be
their lot until their enemies are willing to forgive them. As for those who
have led a virtuous life, they will be rescued from those places in that land
and will be spared life in those prisons and will inhabit the pure lands.’2
Other accounts imply that
parts of Hell are located in this earth. It is reported that Jābir ibn ʿAbd Allāh said: ‘I have
seen smoke coming out of the land of Dirar’, and it is also said that he
attended part of it. This is similar to the account of Barhūt valley reported
on the authority of the Commander of the Faithful3 who said: ‘The most
hateful region in the sight of God is Barhūt valley, where the spirits of the
infidels are found, and also a well whose water is black and in which the
spirits of the infidels are dispatched.’ Al-Asmāʾī relates that a man from Hadramaut states
that ‘we smell from the direction of Barhūt a very terrible stink, and then we
receive the news of the death of one of the leaders of the infidels.’ It is
also reported that the Messenger of God as part of the Eclipse Tradition,
during the Eclipse prayer used to protect his face from the Fire by his hand
and his robe, and was held up from reaching his
destination, while he prayed to God. There are other reports that indicate that
(Hell) exists in this world.
The response to all those
reports and indices is that both Paradise and Hell have an essential origin in
the other world and a partial origin and multiple cosmic manifestations in this
world; whereas the foundation of Hell, that is, its reality is the perishable
world, but it has certain manifestations and hideouts in this world. What was
mentioned as part of rational aspects does not prove more than that it has a
partial mode of being and a specific appearance in this world. The same is true
of the various accounts which do not indicate more than that it has certain
manifestations in this world. As for the real Fire, its location and
manifestation are such that the whole creation cannot ascertain, its mighty
power being in the other life, where its mansions surround it. As (the
Almighty) says: ‘And Hell shall be exhibited to whoever can see’ (Qurʾān 79:36) and: ‘No, if
only you knew with certainty; you would surely have perceived Hell. Then you
will have perceived it with visual certainty.’ (Qurʾān 5:7) It was therefore hidden, neither
visible nor exposed, but rather concealed, except to people of disclosure1
and certainty. This sensible part of Fire is not burning in reality; but what
causes burning and disintegration in truth and in reality is a divine Fire
hidden to the senses and inaccessible to thought and reasoning, although it is
related to the sensible (fire) in some way. The focus of its real fiery nature
is the perishable world, not the world of real existence. May God protect us,
with all the people of certainty, against its evil and injury on the Day of
Judgment.
9. He says: ‘Regardless
of whether transition, that is, transmigration, is true or false.’
It appears from these words
that he was in doubt regarding this matter and is not certain with respect to
the falsity of transmigration, but you have seen its falsity on our part. It is
strange also that al-Ghazzālī has allowed for the reality of transmigration,
because it is not clear for him that transmigration and resuscitation are
different. This shows that he2 has not grasped correctly the meaning
of corporal resurrection yet and did not appreciate fully the meaning of the
second generation of both soul and body. The reason is that, after mentioning
in his epistle that the greatest of the philosophers, Abū ʿAlī (Ibn Sīnā) had
allowed for corporal resurrection, on the ground that it is not too far-fetched
to hold that some heavenly bodies may be assigned for the soul’s imagination
and sensation. He related this on the authority of one whom he held in great
esteem3 in these words.
However, one might comment
that he mentioned that by way of civility and dissimulation,4
having already admitted the impossibility of transmigration of bodies in the case of a simple soul, which amounts in fact to
proving the impossibility of corporal transmigration. Our position is that what
he said does not constitute a real proof. For he has said that, were the body
to return and be disposed to receptivity, a soul would emanate from the ‘Giver
of Forms’1 and be joined to it, since that which is so disposed is deserving in
itself of receiving the forms, which would lead then to the emanation of a soul
for it. Thereupon, the transmigrant soul would attach to it and we would then
have two souls pertaining to one body, which is absurd.
Now, what he mentions may be
used in asserting the transmigration of bodies, but is a weak proof, for it is
possible that dispositions may vary, so that some will correspond to the
pre-existing immateriality (of the body), which (the Giver of Forms) would
manage, without having to impart a new soul to it. For, assuming that two
sperms in the womb were disposed to receive the soul in one state, two souls
would be imparted to them, each one of them having its own soul, without any
reason for its inhering in it, except for the community of their corresponding
attributes. If this appropriateness is possible with respect to two similar
souls, why will it not be possible with respect to immaterial souls? Thus, if
the disposed subject is deserving of its corresponding immaterial soul, why
cannot a new soul be imparted to it by way of emanation? You should know, then,
that whoever denies corporal resurrection has no decisive proof. (Here his
words end.)
I say that you have already
learnt demonstratively the absurdity of transmigration, in light of what we
showed regarding the material origination of the soul and that it inheres in
the body, with some of its faculties, its union with (the body) being according
to nature. You have also learnt that there is a vast difference between transmigration
and resurrection and that it is not necessary in that respect to allow for
transmigration in principle. Therefore, you should thank God and sing His
praise for teaching you what you did not know, God’s grace bestowed on you
being so vast.
10. He says, may his
secret be sanctified: ‘The suspended forms are different from Plato’s ideas.’
You should know that human
forms, including modes of understanding and feelings, are God’s greater proof
of His creation and the first evidence for the existence of the three worlds:
the world of sense and the lower world, that of mystery and the hereafter, and
that of reason and matter, which contains the three outlets of perception; I
mean sensation, imagination and reason. Each one of these is a conduit to another
world. We have ourselves proved the existence of the intermediate world and its
distinctness from this lower world, by affirming the abstractness of the
imaginative faculty and its objects. Estimation does not have its own world,
insofar as there is no original form corresponding to it, because it is
actually reason relative to particulars and relation is not one of the original
entities. Therefore, it follows that the worlds are three.
The
gnostic Shaykh, Muḥyī al-Dīn (ibn) ʿArabī states in the sixty-third chapter of his book,1
in reference to knowledge of the survival of the soul in the isthmus,2
separating the lower world and (the world) of resurrection, that the isthmus is
a rational barrier between two adjoining objects which does not impinge on
either of them, but has the power of each one of them, like the line which
separates the shade from the sun, and is merely the work of the imagination,
just as man becomes aware of the fact that he has perceived his own figure in
one sense, but not in another sense, due to what he sees as very small,
corresponding to the small size of the mirror, or very large corresponding to
its large size. He cannot deny in either case that he has perceived his own
image and that his image is not in the mirror or between him and mirror, and
then he is neither truthful nor lying in saying that he saw his image or did
not see it. For, what in fact is that image and where is it located? And what
is its status? For, it is actually negated and asserted as existing and
non-existing, known and well-known, and God Almighty has revealed this truth to
mankind by recourse to an illustration so that (man) may know with certainty
that, if he is unable or is in doubt regarding this matter while he is of the
world, he is surely more ignorant of its creator, more impotent and more
confused. [Ibn ʿArabī] wanted to draw attention here to the fact that the
manifestations of God3 are more minute and subtler in meaning than that which the confused
intellects have been unable to understand, to the point of wondering: ‘Has it
gotten an essence or not?’ For the intellects do not consign it to the realm of
pure nothingness, while sight has perceived something (corresponding to it),
nor to the realm of pure being. Thus you know that He is neither nothing nor
pure possibility.
It is this reality that man
is reduced to in his sleep and after his death, whereby he sees accidents as
self-subsisting forms, which he addresses while they address him as bodies
bearing their own spirits, without doubting any of this. For the gnostic by
contrast is able to perceive in his waking state what the sleeper perceives in
his sleep and the dead man after he dies, just as he sees in the other world
the forms of actions being judged, although they are no more than accidents.
Some people perceive this imagined object by means of the eye of sense,
although others perceive it by means of the eye of the imagination also; I
mean, while awake, but in their sleep by means of the eye of the imagination
only…”4 Then, if (those spirits) depart their material bodies, some of our
followers say that the spirits, together with their forms, are stripped of
their matters completely and they return to their original condition, just as
the rays of the sun, reflected by an opaque object, return to the sun. However,
they differed in two ways; one group of them said that the spirits do not differ after departing (their bodies), just as the
water contained in vessels does not differ if they happen to break and the
water returns to the river. Another group said that they rather acquire ugly or
beautiful shapes by association with the body, by which they are distinguished
upon departing it; just as that water, if the vessels happen to contain certain
elements which cause it to change in colour, taste or smell, will regain upon
leaving the vessels those properties it had already acquired. For God will
preserve those attributes (the spirits) had acquired. This group is in
agreement with some philosophers in that respect.
Still another group held
that spirits managing (the body) will continue to be managing it in the lower
world, but once transferred to the isthmus they will manage bodies pertaining
to the isthmus, which are those forms in which man sees himself in sleep or
after death, which it symbolizes. He is then made to rise from the dead on the
day of resurrection in the form of a physical body, as in the lower world.
(Here ends the disagreement of our followers with respect to the spirits after
departing [the body].)
You should know, my brother
(may God keep you in His mercy), that Paradise attained by those who are worthy
of it in the hereafter, is present to you today, as far as its site is
concerned, but not its form. In it, you will change into your present
condition, but you will not know that you are in it. For the form in which it
is revealed to you will conceal it from you. However, people of disclosure,1
who are able to apprehend what is absent to them will perceive that site and
will perceive those in a green garden. If (that site) happens to be part of
Hell, they will perceive it in accordance with the trials of its severe cold or
heat and what God has prepared in it. Most of the people of disclosure are able
to see that at the outset. The Lawgiver2 itself has drawn
attention to this in these words: ‘Between my grave and my pulpit lies one of
the gardens of Paradise.’ (There end his noble words.) My aim in reporting
(those opinions) is to acquaint you with the different views pertaining to the
return of the spirits to that regeneration which follows death and how the
forms pertaining to the isthmus look, what is their proper world, whether it is
identical with the world of Paradise or that of Hell, in point of the essence
or difference of its certain or doubtful being, or whether they are two
different worlds.
The true opinion (for us) is
the first. For the proportion of the forms pertaining to the isthmus, which
appear upon resurrection, is equivalent to the proportion of the imperfection
to the perfection of being or that of the age of the child to that of the
adult. To it the Prophet refers in these words: ‘The grave is either one of the
gardens of Paradise or one of the ditches of Hell.’ The state of the soul, so
long as it is in the grave, is similar to that of the child in the cradle, as
Firdawsī has said in these verses:
Passing through the grave is not a choice,
The place of punishment is
the grave not cradle.
And so long as the soul
is in the body, its state is similar to that of the sperm or the embryo in a
secure place. As for his words, ‘then it will be resurrected on the Day of
Judgment in physical bodies,’ it may be said that, if what is meant by them is
such bodies as the dense, worldly bodies, which are constantly changing and
perishing, and are not stable, then they are not true; since they lead to many
fallacies, such as transmigration and the like, which cannot be dealt with in
this context. If, however, by the bodies in question is meant other bodies,
contrived and acquired by the soul and fashioned according to its habits and
deeds (then they are true).1 It is said, however, that every such
body is the same as the body that it had in this world, the unity of the soul
being what matters, since it is what gives the body its identity. Thus, the
body of Zayd in Paradise, for instance, is the same as his body in this world,
as lead might turn in Hell into pure gold through the elixir. If then you are
talking about the essence of the gold and its genuine substance, you would say
that is that; but if you are talking about subtlety, brilliance and luminosity,
then you would say that is not that. Therefore, the essence of this person is
the same in this world and the next, and it is his spirit that finds the good
or bad he had done waiting for him.
The proof of the fact that
the condition of the spirit in the isthmus, and the form accompanying it, are
similar to the relation of imperfection to perfection, is this saying of the
Greatest Master2 in the three hundred and fifty-fifth chapter of al-Futūḥāt: ‘Death during the two modes of generation is an isthmus-type of
condition in which the spirits dwell in imaginary isthmus-types of bodies,
similar to those they dwelt in in sleep. They are accordingly bodies generated
by these terrestrial bodies. For, imagination is one of their faculties, so
that our spirits have not left them or what they have produced.’ (You should
know this.) He also says: ‘If you understand the particular resurrection of
this given person, you are able to understand the general resurrection of every
dying person. For the isthmus of every other-worldly generation is similar to a
woman bearing in her womb an embryo, whom God generates bit by bit, so that the
stages of his generation would vary until he is born on the Day of
Resurrection. That is why it has been said of the dying person that ‘when he
dies his resurrection has come’; that is, the appearance of this second
generation in the isthmus has started up to the day of his rising from the
isthmus; just as he rises from the womb to the earth upon his birth.’ (The
end.)
11. He says: ‘And it has
no locus’.
Some people have held that
ideal forms are accidents inhering in the imaginative faculty, just as rational
forms are accidents inhering in the rational. However, both
parties are off the mark, with respect to the union of reason with the object
of reason. The truth is that substantial truths exist in the sensible,
imaginative and rational worlds and they have corresponding forms in each of
the three worlds. They are immaterial in the last two, material in the first.
It is characteristic of the material (forms) to change, be subject to
transition, cessation and dissolution, being part of the world of transience,
death and destruction; whereas it is characteristic of the immaterial (forms)
to endure and last, because they belong to the world of permanence, as it is
said. If you grasp the reality of the unity of the imaginative forms belonging
to the universal soul, which encompasses everything other imaginative faculties
encompass, you will find that it is the locus of that world, of which those faculties
are the manifestations. What we believe is that those forms have no locus,
regardless of whether they are related to heavenly power or to our own power,
because they are measurable and immaterial. They inhere in those psychic
immaterial faculties in some other sense of inherence. In fact, every human
entity will constitute in the hereafter a full world of its own, like the
totality of the present world, without any competition from one world or the
other. Then every man in Paradise would constitute a full world in himself, who
is not aligned with anybody else of his own species in the same place, although
there shows up before him whatever he desires or wishes to keep him company, be
it a man, a horse, food, drink, houris, children, palaces, gardens, rivers and
the like. All this will take place in the twinkle of an eye, the flash of a
thought and the throb of a heart. This is the state of everyone of the blessed,
but not the damned, whose hearts are ‘shielded against what they are called
unto’.1 For the worlds there are infinite, because of the absence of
positional arrangement, so that the scalar proof in it or the like may be in
effect, demonstrating the negation of the finitude of those spaces. For each
one of them is equal to the breadth of the heavens and the earths, without
interference, competition or contact, but in a way that the gnostics know and
is confirmed by the favoured.
It should be understood from
this that he is the lord of the knowers. For every lordly knower is perfect and
does not need anything nor desires anything outside himself, his kingdom and
his dominion, since he lacks nothing. It is related in speaking of the
condition of the people of Paradise that the angel approaches them, often
seeking their permission, and if allowed, he will deliver to them a letter from
God, after greeting them on behalf of God. They will then find in the letter
addressed by the Living, Self-subsisting and Undying: ‘Greetings, I say to a
thing: “Be and it comes to be.” I have authorized you today to say to the
thing: “Be and it comes to be”.’ The Prophet, peace on him, has said: ‘No one
in Paradise shall say to a thing: “Be”, but it will come to be.’ The finest
words of the truthful people we have found in this respect are those of the
Greatest Master in al-Fuṣūṣ2 to the effect that ‘every man is able to create by the power of the imagination that
which does not exist except in it. This is the common situation; but the
gnostic is able to create by his own energy what exists outside in lieu of the
energy, but continues to be preserved by that energy, so long as that energy
perseveres and wishes it to continue to exist. But as soon as he is oblivious
of that preservation, that created object will cease to exist, unless that
gnostic has control of all the presences (of that creation) and he is not
oblivious at all. It is necessary, however, that he should observe a present
actuality constantly. Then if the gnostic creates by his own energy what he creates
and is fully in control, that creation will appear in his own image in every
case and the forms will then be able to preserve each other.’ He also says: ‘I
have made clear here a secret whose likeness the people of God continue to
desire. This is a matter which nobody has embodied in a book, neither I, nor
anybody else, prior to this book. It is a unique gem of the times.’ He also
says in chapter three hundred and sixty-one, after referring to that already
mentioned Tradition which states that he came up with something: ‘It is one of
the foulest facts, the intent of nature being the formation of bodies and what
they bear and endowing them with what they never lack or seek by nature, but
not generally. For the purpose of the soul is the generation of particular
spirits in their natural condition, generality has not been given except to the
perfect Man, the bearer of the divine secret, everything other than God being
part of the Perfect Man. So reason and look at everything other than God and
how the Qurʾān1 has described Him in these words: “There is nothing which does not
celebrate His praise” (Qurʾān 17:44). It has also described all men as prostrate and does not
grant any of them the power of command, prohibition, succession or general
origination in the world, but has granted that to the perfect Man alone. Thus,
whoever wishes to know his own perfection, let him look into himself, his
command, prohibition and origination, without recourse to any tongue, organ or
creature other than himself. If he succeeds in that, then he is assured by his
Lord of his perfection, since he has a witness from Him. Should he then
command, prohibit or start to generate anything by means of one of his organs,
yet nothing emerges or emerges in one form rather than another, while he is
unable to produce the means, he would have achieved perfection. It will not
derogate from his perfection that some things did not come into being by his
command immediately. For the divine form was manifested thereby in the world,
since He has commanded His servants, according to the ordinances of His
messengers and in His books. Then some obeyed, others disobeyed, since in the
absence of the means, obedience is not especially possible. That is why, if man
were unified in himself so as to become a single entity, then his intention
will be fulfilled in whatever he wishes. This indeed is the experience of the
totality of God’s people; for God’s hand is supportive of the community and His
power is unfailing.’ (The end.)
(Ibn ʿArabī) has also said in
chapter forty-seven (of al-Futūḥāt): ‘The Hereafter will be in constant generation. For in Paradise
people will only have to say to a thing that they desire: “Be” and it will come
to be, and they will not intend that anything come to be but it will come to be
in front of them. The same is true of the inhabitants of Hell; for as soon as
the thought of a greater torture flashes through their mind, then that torture
will hit them. For, it is all a matter of thought; since in the other world the
generation of things is consequent perceptibly on the occurrence of the
thought, the determination, the will, the intention and the desire. All this is
fully perceptible, while in this world, there is nothing higher than action by
dint of determination on the part of each agent. This is accorded in this world
to whoever is not a saint, such as he who acts by invoking the evil eye (?) and
is motivated by strange desires (?)’1
1. That is, the author of Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī (d. 1191).
2. Barzakh,
plural barāzikh. Suhrawardī regards material bodies
as isthmuses or compounds of both light and darkness, or (objects separating
them).
1. al-Wāhimah.
2. Upon death.
1. ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib (d. 661).
2. Houris.
1. The womb of the mother.
1. That is, Suhrawardī’s.
2. In Aristotelian logic the
genus (plural genera) is the class to which an entity such as man belongs,
whereas the differentia is what sets him apart from other entities.
1. The meaning appears to be
that although identical with respect to his soul, the individual would be
different with respect to this changed body.
2. Abū Ḥamīd Ghazzālī (d.1111).
1. al-Sharʿ could also be translated as
scripture.
2. The reference is to Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī (d. 950), as
appears in the sequel.
3. That is, Suhrawardī.
4. Ibn Sīnā.
5. Ḥikmat al-ishrāq.
6. Suhrawardī.
1. That is, Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī (d. 1240), author of al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah (Meccan Revelations).
2. In Persian.
1. ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.
2. Quoted from Plato’s Phaedo, 108a by al-Bīrūnī (d. 848) in his book Taḥqīq mā li’l-Hind. Tartaros is the Greek
equivalent of Hell.
3. ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.
1. al-Kashf,
or mystical discovery.
2. Suhrawardī.
3. That is, al-Farābī.
4. Taqiyyah.
1. That is, the Active
Intellect, according to Ibn Sīnā.
1. al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah.
2. Barzakh.
3. The text has ‘the Truth’.
4. This section consists almost
exclusively of quotations from Ibn ʿArabī’s Futūḥāt. We have therefore omitted
it.
1. al-Kashf,
or mystics.
2. al-Shāriʿ, or the Prophet.
1. This apodosis appears to be
missing here.
2. Ibn ʿArabī.
1. Cf. Qurʾān 41:5.
2. Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam (Bezels of Wisdom) by Ibn ʿArabī.
1. Original, al-ḥaqq, the Truth.
1. The editor himself is
uncertain of this last phrase that he marks by (kadhā
or sic).
The
Revival of Peripatetic Philosophy
Had the mashshāʾī philosophy of Ibn Sīnā and other early masters of this School not been
revived in the seventh/thirteenth century, it is possible that philosophy as a
distinct discipline would have had the same destiny in Persia and in other
lands of the eastern Islamic world as it did in most of the Arabic world, that
is, it would have become absorbed into the schools of philosophical theology
and theosophical and philosophical Sufism. Even the flowering of the School of ishrāq, which opposed so many mashshāʾī theses, benefited from the presence of the mashshāʾī School in order to survive as a distinct philosophical current.
Moreover, the revival of Peripatetic philosophy has helped preserve the long
Islamic tradition of the intellectual sciences into the contemporary period. In
contrast to what certain modern Arab philosophers claim, that real Islamic
philosophy came to an end with Ibn Rushd and later Islamic philosophy in Persia
or for that matter in India or Ottoman Turkey, is not rigorous philosophy but
mystical speculation, the revived tradition of Islamic Peripatetic philosophy
in Persia, not to speak of other later philosophical schools, demonstrates how
rational and logical philosophy continued in the Islamic world long after the
death of Ibn Rushd at the end of the sixth/ twelfth century. This later School
of mashshāʾī philosophy in Persia
was rigorously rational without being rationalistic in the modern sense and
produced numerous works on logic, natural philosophy and metaphysics which are
no less ʿaqlī (intellectual/ rational) than were the
works of the earlier Peripatetics including Ibn Rushd.
As already mentioned, the
revival of mashshāʾī philosophy in Persia took place on the basis of the philosophical
syntheses of Ibn Sīnā and not Ibn Rushd and the latter’s criticism of the Ashʿarite theologians
especially Ghazzālī. This latter criticism is widely known and studied in the
West and the contemporary Islamic world, especially in its Arabic sector; but
it had little influence on the Persian philosophical scene although Ibn Rushd
was known to Persian philosophers and in neighbouring Ottoman Turkey where some
rebuttals were even written against his criticism of Ghazzālī. It seems that
the later life of mashshāʾī philosophy in Persia and adjacent lands was
destined to be based on Ibn Sīnā rather than Ibn Rushd, who influenced Europe
much more than the Islamic world, even if we consider his possible influence on
Ibn Taymiyyah in the question of the nature of God’s creation of the world.
In any case the most
important figure in the revival of Peripatetic philosophy in Persia and also in
Muslim India and Ottoman Turkey is without doubt Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, who wrote a number of works defending
and/ or summarizing mashshāʾī teachings, and not Ibn Rushd. One of the treatises of Ṭūsī, dealing with the
division of existents according to the mashshāʾī School appears in this section. But as already mentioned in the
general introduction to this volume, Ṭūsī’s most important opus, as far as the revival of Peripatetic
philosophy is concerned, and one of the major masterpieces of Islamic
philosophy, is his commentary upon Ibn Sīnā’s Ishārāt.
In reality, Ṭūsī’s work is a commentary upon Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s critical commentary
upon the same seminal text. In this long work the great theologian Rāzī is in a
sense ‘buried’ between two of the colossal figures of Islamic philosophy, Ṭūsī and Ibn Sīnā. Ṭūsī’s commentary covers
the whole of the Ishārāt and deals with the main
subjects of mashshāʾī philosophy discussed to some extent in the first volume of this Anthology. These subjects include various aspects of logic,
natural philosophy and metaphysics. Such questions as the substantiality of
bodies, form and matter, quantity and quality as they pertain to bodies, the
possibility of the existence of a vacuum in the physical world, motion and rest
and the four elements are discussed thoroughly and Ashʿarite objections to
Avicennan views on these and other matters discussed in detail and refuted.
Then the text turns to the soul, both human and celestial, the Active Intellect
and how it emanates intelligibles that are received by the soul, the relation
between the ‘intellector’ (al-ʿāqil) and the intelligibles (al-maʿqūl) and similar issues. There is also an extensive discussion of the
faculty of psychology of Ibn Sīnā and the various faculties of the vegetative,
animal and human souls as well as the souls of the sphere which Ibn Rushd
rejected but which play a very important role in Avicennan cosmology.
What is significant
throughout the first part of Ṭūsī’s commentary is how he refutes Rāzī’s criticisms and with his
remarkable intellectual rigour undoes the effect of Ashʿarite attacks on mashshāʾī thought, thereby
giving a new life to this philosophy. But the actual philosophical content of
this part of his commentary is essentially Ibn Sīnā’s own well-known theses.
Therefore, in this Anthology we decided to make
available in translation Ṭūsī’s commentary upon the last part of the Ishārāt
which contains the strongest intellectual defence provided by a major Islamic
Peripatetic philosopher of Sufism and gnosis. The last part of the Ishārāt constitutes in our view a part of what Ibn Sīnā
conceived as his ‘Oriental philosophy’ which marked a higher step of
philosophical understanding meant, by his own words, ‘for the elite’ (al-khawāṣṣ). The translation of this section reveals both the amplitude of Ibn
Sīnā’s total philosophical vision and Ṭūsī’s own mastery of that with which Ibn Sīnā was dealing in the last
part of his final philosophical masterpiece. It also
demonstrates the climate in which Peripatetic philosophical was revived, one in
which rigorous rational philosophy and standard mashshāʾī theses, such as those discussed in the other selection from Ṭūsī presented in this
section, were studied and defended in an intellectual universe in which there
was also an opening to contemplative and illuminative knowledge and gnosis.
The other selections in this
section trace the history of this revived mashshāʾī School in Persia through certain major figures. The selections are
also chosen in such a way as to elucidate different aspects of the teachings of
this School and different approaches by mashshāʾī philosophers of various intellectual bent lest one should think that
these Peripatetic philosophers were simply repeating the same subjects. The
selections from Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī include an exposition of his views on knowledge of
the self, or what I have called the autology of Kāshānī, a discussion of wujūd from the mashshāʾī perspective as well as a discourse on substance and accidents which
goes back through Ibn Sīnā to Aristotle.
The work of Dabīrān-i
Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī, the Ḥikmat al-ʿayn, became a popular text for the teaching of mashshāʾī philosophy and many generations of students up to our own day have
learned mashshāʾī philosophy through this readily accessible text. Some of the major
Peripatetic theses including wujūd and māhiyyah, the relation between them, necessity and
contingency of wujūd, human knowledge and its
relation to revelation and the complex issue of causality have been chosen and
translated from this treatise. There is also a section in which the author
speaks of jaʿl or instauration, which
later became a major subject in the ḥikmat al-mutaʿāliyah of Mullā Ṣadrā but was not discussed in the same way by Ibn Sīnā.
We have also included a
selection from another popular mashshāʾī work, the Kitāb Hidāyat al-ḥikmah of Athīr al-Dīn Abharī. This work became one of the most popular in
the teaching of mashshāʾī philosophy especially with the commentary of Qāḍī Amīr Ḥusayn Kamāl al-Dīn
Maybudī and later on Mullā Ṣadrā. It is still used widely in Persia today. As for India, Mullā Ṣadrā’s commentary on this
text became so popular that those who studied it were given the title of
‘learned in Ṣadrā’. There is hardly a major Islamic manuscript library in the
Subcontinent of India without one or more hand-written copies of this work.
Since we shall be dealing extensively with Mullā Ṣadrā in the next volume, here we decided to
include a section from the Maybudī rather than the Mullā Ṣadrā commentary along
with the original text of Abharī. The selection deals with proofs for the
existence of God with which Ibn Sīnā as well as Jewish and Christian
Aristotelian philosophers such as Maimonides and St Thomas were also deeply
concerned. Some modern scholars have considered this issue to be a part of
theology rather than philosophy and have even spoken of the ‘theology of
Avicenna’ when discussing his views on this matter. But from the view of the
Islamic falāsifah, this subject is definitely a part
of philosophy and nearly every major Islamic philosopher has dealt with it in
one way or another.
The
earlier attack of the mutakallimūn upon mashshāʾī philosophy left its
mark upon the revival of this philosophy as we see so clearly in Ṭūsī’s commentary upon the
Ishārāt. This concern is also to be seen in later
figures especially Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī who, in his Muḥākamāt (Trials), sought to judge between the criticisms of Ibn Sīnā by Fakhr
al-Dīn Rāzī and the refutation of these criticisms by Ṭūsī. Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī’s work is
therefore one more link in the long chain of debates between the falāsifah and the mutakallimūn.
Although predominantly a mashshāʾī philosopher, Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, like many other philosophers of that era, was also well
acquainted with the views of Suhrawardī. This fact is evident in his treatise
on ascent and judgment, an issue that is central to both logic and epistemology
and with which so many Islamic philosophers of different periods have been
concerned and have treated in so many different ways.
Needless to say, there are
many other important mashshāʾī treatises of this period such as works by Sirāj al-Dīn Urmawī and Ibn
Salhan Sāwajī that have not been included in this volume because of the
limitation of space. This omission here is especially true of the School of
Shiraz many of whose members were masters of the mashshāʾī School and in fact added a distinct new chapter to its history. We
hope, however, to deal with them in the next volume. The reader may also ask
why we have included the whole of the ishrāqī School
in this volume but not the whole of the mashshāʾī School of the later centuries up to our times. There are several reasons
for this choice. First of all the history of the mashshāʾī School dealing with the first period of its development was covered in
Volume One of this Anthology while a later volume
dealt extensively precisely with kalām which
curtailed the life of the mashshāʾī School in Persia, albeit temporarily, in the fifth/ eleventh and
sixth/twelfth centuries. Consequently, there was no possibility, within the
general structure of these volumes to include the whole of the mashshāʾī tradition in one
place, unless we were to devote each volume to a particular School (as we have
done in the case of Ismaili philosophy and kalām
where we felt such a treatment was needed), and forgo the possibility of the
full treatment of any distinct historical period, a choice which we had decided
against, from the beginning, for reasons of scholarship and also because of the
need of the contemporary reader for a historical treatment of particular
periods wherever possible. Moreover, there was the need to present the
interactions of various schools in particular periods within such a vast work.
In addition to all these
considerations there was another issue to consider. In the West the ishrāqī School is less known than the mashshāʾī and we felt that dealing with the whole of the ishrāqī
School through selections in one place in this volume would provide a better
view of its long development in historical perspective. In contrast early mashshāʾī philosophy is much
better known and also its history in Persia is broken by its eclipse in the
fifth/ eleventh and sixth/twelfth centuries so that one cannot present it as a
continuous tradition in the same way as the ishrāqī School without stretching the historical evidence during
that period despite the appearance of Khayyām and a few other Avicennan
philosophers who lived during this hiatus, many of whom are known only by name
and not by any extensive writings.
Finally, the destiny of mashshāʾī and ishrāqī Schools is not exactly the same after the tenth/
sixteenth century. While mashshāʾī philosophy survived, it became often, although not always, combined
with other schools, perhaps more so than the ishrāqī.
Even Avicennan philosophers of the Safavid period such as Mīr Dāmād were also ishrāqīs although as we shall see in Volume Five, there
were also some philosophers who were predominantly mashshāʾī. This fact of becoming combined with other schools is to some extent
also true of the ishrāqī School but we believe not to
the same degree. In any case on the basis of all these considerations, we have
decided to divide the mashshāʾī School between the first, fourth and fifth volumes considering not
only the early break in its earlier history but also the fact that its history
is longer and more chequered than that of the ishrāqī
School.
S. H. Nasr
Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī
Abū
Jaʿfar Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī is one of the most
prominent Islamic philosophers and scientists, as well as a leading Shiʿi theologian. His family
hailed from Kāshān but he was born in Ṭūs in Khurāsān 597/1200 and died in 672/1273 in Kāẓimayn near Baghdad. Although
Ṭūsī is
primarily known as a philosopher, he contributed immensely to such fields as kalām, mathematics, astronomy, ethics and to some extent
Sufism.
Ṭūsī’s first teacher was his father, a prominent jurist in the Twelver
school of Shiʿism with whom he may have studied logic, jurisprudence and natural
philosophy. Ṭūsī also studied metaphysics with his uncle and different branches of
mathematics with other teachers in Ṭūs. Having mastered the sciences available to him in his home town, he
left for Nayshāpūr, at the time a great centre of learning where the legacy of
such philosophers and mathematicians as ʿUmār Khayyām was still present.
In Nayshāpūr, Ṭūsī studied metaphysics
and Peripatetic philosophy with Farīd al-Dīn Dāmād, who was a student of Ibn Sīnā
through four intermediaries. He also studied medicine with Quṭb al-Dīn Miṣrī, himself a
distinguished student of Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī, and finally became a student of
Kamāl al-Dīn Yūnus with whom he studied mathematics.
Some time before 628/1230 Ṭūsī accepted the
invitation of Naṣīr al-Dīn Muḥtashim, the Ismaili ruler, and moved to Quhistān and later to other
fortresses of the Ismailis where he lived from 623/1226 to 652/1254. Ṭūsī’s relationship with
the Ismailis is subject to debate. There are those who have argued that Ṭūsī genuinely converted
to Ismailism while others see his conversion as a move to enjoy the protection
of the Ismailis in a turbulent time. Ṭūsī’s life coincided with the Mongol invasion of Persia, which caused
much death and destruction, especially in the province of Khurāsān where he
resided. The only islands of peace and stability were the strongholds of the
Ismailis where Ṭūsī could have been safe. Still others have argued that his
collaboration with the Ismailis and his stay at the fortress of Alamūt were forced upon him. In either case, it was the
security and respect he enjoyed during these years that provided him with the
opportunity to compose a great number of works, including works on Ismailism,
some of which have been included and discussed in the second volume of this Anthology.
In 652/1254, Hülagü, the
Mongol emperor known for his interest in astrology, sacked the Ismaili
establishments in Khurāsān and welcomed Ṭūsī to his court because of his fame as an
astronomer. Ṭūsī remained the scientific advisor, court astronomer and even minister
to Hülagü and according to some sources accompanied him in his conquest of
Baghdad in 654/1256. A year later, under the patronage of Hülagü, Ṭūsī began the
construction of a major astronomical observatory at Marāghah that was completed
in 668/1269. Much of the Ilkhānīd Astronomical Tables
and new astronomical observations and calculations were the result of the
efforts of Ṭūsī and the circle of scientists who had gathered around him in
Marāghah. In 670/1271, while in Baghdad, Ṭūsī fell ill and died. He is buried near the
tomb of the seventh Shiʿi Imam Mūsā al-Kāẓim adjacent to that city.
Today, nearly a hundred and
fifty works of Ṭūsī are known to have survived, of which twenty-five are in Persian,
the rest in Arabic and one partially in Turkish. Ṭūsī wrote five works on logic the most
important of which is Asās al-iqtibās (Foundations of
Inference), written in Persian. On mathematics, Ṭūsī wrote a number of commentaries on the
works of Greek mathematicians plus many independent texts. In these works he
went far beyond being a transmitter of Greek sciences to the Islamic world and
himself became a major contributor to the mathematical sciences. Ṭūsī commented on the
works of such figure as Autolycus, Aristarchus, Apollonius, Archimedes, Euclid,
Hypsicles, Menelaus, Ptolomy, and Theodosius. Ṭūsī’s commentaries on Euclid’s Elements and Ptolomy’s Almagest
and the corpus of texts between them known as the ‘intermediate works’ (mutawassaṭāt) were standard texts
for teaching mathematics and astronomy in the Islamic world for centuries to
come.
Among his original
contributions to arithmetic, geometry, and trigonometry are Jawāmiʿ al-ḥisāb
bi’l-takht wa’l- turāb (The Comprehensive Work on
Computation with Board and Dust), al-Risālah al-shāfiʿiyyah (The Satisfying Treatise), and Kashf al-qināʿ fī
asrār shakl al-qiṭāʿ (known as the Book of the Principle of [the] Transversal). The latter
was translated into Latin and influenced Regiomontanus, one of the foremost
mathematicians of fifteenth-century Germany. The most significant works of Ṭūsī in astronomy are Zīj-i īlkhānī (The Ilkhānīd Tables) and the Tadhkirat al-nujūm (Memorial of Astronomy). Written
originally in Persian, these works were later translated into Arabic and the Tables was partially translated into Latin by John Greaves
as Astronomia quaedam ex traditione Shah Cholgii Persae una
cum hypothesibus planetarum. Ṭūsī also wrote treatises on particular astronomical subjects such as
the astrolabe and translated a work on astronomy by ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Ṣūfī entitled Ṣuwar al-kawākib (Figures of the Fixed Stars) from Arabic into
Persian. In other areas of science, Ṭūsī produced significant works such as the Tansūkh-nāmah
(The Book of Precious Materials).
During the Ismaili phase of
his life, Ṭūsī composed a major work entitled Taṣawwurāt (Conceptions), also known as Rawḍat
al-taslīm (The Paradise of Submission), on Ismaili
theology and philosophy. Taṣawwurāt discusses ontology, epistemology, cosmology, eschatology, imamology
and soteriology in twentyeight sections called ‘Conceptions’. Despite his
importance as an Ismaili thinker, theologically Ṭūsī was a Twelver Shīʿa. His theological and
metaphysical views are reflected in his work al-Fuṣūl (Chapters), written in Persian, and in Kitāb al-
Tajrīd (The Book of Catharsis), written in Arabic. Kitāb
al-Tajrīd is considered to be the most important work on Shiʿi theology and over four
hundred commentaries and glosses have been written on it.
Of course Ṭūsī also composed many
important philosophical works, chief among them a commentary on Ibn Sīnā’s al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt (The Book of Directives and
Remarks). In this work Ṭūsī begins with Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī’s criticism of the Ishārāt and then responds to every criticism of Rāzī with
great skill and in detail. Under the influence of Miskawayh, Ṭūsī wrote one of the most
important works in the Persian language on philosophical ethics in Islam
entitled Akhlāq-i nāṣirī (Naṣīrian Ethics).
Ṭūsī is one of the few Peripatetic philosophers who was also sympathetic
to Sufism, and may have even practised it for a while. He wrote on Sufism and
gnosis (ʿirfān), as is evident in his Persian work Awṣāf al-ashrāf
(Descriptions of the Nobles). He also expressed his reverence for the Sufi
masters such as Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj and corresponded with Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī and Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī. In
jurisprudence, he wrote Kitāb al-Raml in which he
explicated a variety of legal matters, particularly the laws of inheritance. In
the tradition of so many philosophers, Ṭūsī also composed a number of poems, mostly in Persian.
Like many other Muslim
philosophers, Ṭūsī relied on the Neoplatonic scheme of emanation to comment on a wide
variety of philosophical issues, among them the doctrine of resurrection (qiyāmah) and the inner meaning (bāṭin) of religion. Ṭūsī divides human beings into three groups: the exoteric type he calls
‘the people of contradiction’ (ahl al-taḍādd), those of an esoteric nature he calls ‘the people of gradation’ (ahl al-tarattub) and those he regards as people of union (ahl al-waḥdah). The latter group
are the spiritual elite who have achieved unity with the Truth (ḥaqīqah).
Perhaps more than anyone
else, Ṭūsī is
responsible for the revival in Persia of science and rational philosophy in the
seventh/thirteenth century. He not only brought together different scientists,
mathematicians and philosophers, but he also clarified and defended Avicennan
philosophy against his opponents. Outside Persia, the mathematical and
astronomical works of Ṭūsī were influential in the West, in the Ottoman world and among Indian
scientists, as evidenced by the observatory of Jai Singh II.
Among
Twelver Shiʿa, Ṭūsī is regarded as a philosopher, a scientist and, above all, a
theologian whose work Tajrīd al-qawāʿid is a systematic treatment of Shiʿi kalām. In the
annals of Islamic intellectual thought, there has been no other figure who is
simultaneously an astronomer, mathematician, philosopher, and theologian of the
highest stature.
In this chapter we have included two
selections. In the first, Ṭūsī’s commentary on the Ishārāt of Ibn Sīnā
is presented. The selection begins with a discussion concerning the stations of
the gnostics. The meaning of the philosophical narrative or recital of Salāmān and Absāl and its symbolism is also treated and,
then, the relationship between asceticism and epistemology and the faculties of
the soul. Ṭūsī then launches into a long and detailed discourse on psychology.
Some of his discussions, which bear resemblance to Aristotle’s De Anima, treat the specific powers of the faculties of the
soul. This section ends with the virtues that a gnostic should embrace.
In the second selection,
parts of Ṭūsī’s Persian treatise, Risālah andar qismat-i
mawjūdāt (Treatise on the Division of Existents), have been included. Ṭūsī begins this treatise
with a discussion of atomism, which was a subject of great concern among both
the philosophers and the theologians. Mentioning the views of the Muʿtazilites and the Ashʿarites on corporeality,
and the problem of infinite divisibility, he goes on to consider different
types of corporeality among minerals, plants and animals. His treatment of
different types of corporeality then becomes more specific and includes topics
such as finitude and infinity, dimension, quality, quantity and time. In a
general sense, Ṭūsī’s discussion in this treatise is the application of the
Aristotelian categories to the subject of atomism and its philosophical
consequences.
M. Aminrazavi
COMMENTARY ON IBN SĪNĀ’S REMARKS AND
ADMONITIONS
Sharḥ al-ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt
Translated for this volume by Majid Fakhry
from Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Sharḥ al-ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt, ed. Sulaymān Dunyā (Cairo, 1968), pp. 47–82.
On the Stations of the Gnostics1
Chapter 1—Ninth Section
Admonition: ‘The Gnostics have certain stations
and ranks by which they are favoured in their earthly life.’2
Having referred in the previous section to
the pleasure existing entities derive from their proper perfections, whatever
their ranks, he3 wished to refer in this section to the conditions of those members of
the human race who have achieved perfection and show the manner in which they
have scaled the rungs of their own happiness. He has also referred to those
accidental matters which they encounter in their ascent.
The eminent commentator4
has stated that this section embodied the finest part of the subject-matter of
the book.5 For he6 has classified in it the sciences of the Sufis in a manner which no
predecessor of his has done and no successor has attained.
I say:7 (Arabic) jilbāb means a cloak or whatever
covers one, whether a robe or suchlike. To shed (nada)
a robe is to drop it.
By his8 statement: ‘It is as
though, while in the cloaks of their bodies, they (i.e. the gnostics)9
have shed them and were freed from them on their way to the World of Holiness’.10
the author means that it is as if their perfect souls, though outwardly are
covered with the cloaks of their bodies, they have actually shed them. It is as
though their souls shed those cloaks, were stripped of all material accretions
and attained the World of Holiness, achieving thereby contact with those
perfect entities which are free of imperfection and evil. They have in addition
certain hidden properties, which include their
observations of what human thought cannot grasp and human tongues cannot utter,
and their jubilation at what no eye has seen and no ear has heard. This is the
sense of what the Almighty has said: ‘No soul knows what was laid up for them
secretly of joyful relief.’1
There are certain visible
signs they exhibit, which are the effects of perfection and consummation, which
appear in their words and deeds; as well as signs peculiar to them, which
include what is known as miracles or divine favours. These are matters which
are regarded as strange by those who doubt them; that is, are such that the
heart of whoever does not know them or come close to them does not feel at ease
where they are concerned; whereas he who knows them will admire them; that is,
whoever knows them and comes close to them will admire them.
I say: To relate (sarada) a story means to recount
it faithfully. We say so and so relates a story if he recounts it well.
(Here the commentator gives
an account of Salāmān and Absāl mentioned in the text in a manner entirely
irrelevant to Ibn Sīna’s purpose. Therefore, we have omitted it) … .
The second account is the
one that reached me twenty years after completing this commentary. It is
attributed to the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) and appears to be the one which he refers
to here. In fact, Abū ʿUbayd al-Juzjānī2 has given in the list of the Shaykh’s
writings the story of Salāmān and Absāl by his pen.
The gist of the story is
that Salāmān and Absāl were two brothers, Absāl being the younger of the two.
He was brought up in the company of his brother and was handsome, reasonable,
polite, learned, temperate and brave.
Salāmān’s wife fell in love
with him; so she said to Salāmān: ‘Let him mix with your children, so that your
children may learn from him.’ Salāmān gave him that advice, but Absāl refused
to associate with women. Salāmān then said to him: ‘My wife is like a mother to
you.’ So he entered her house, whereupon she welcomed him. Shortly after, she
revealed to him in private her love for him; but Absāl was taken aback and she
understood that he would not listen to her. She then said to Salāmān: ‘Let your
brother marry my sister’, so she could possess him through her. Therefore, she
said to her sister: ‘I did not arrange Absāl’s marriage to you, so that he can
be yours alone; but rather that I may share him with you.’ Then she said to
Absāl: ‘My sister is a shy virgin; so do not enter in on her during the day and
do not speak to her until she is well acquainted with you.’
On the wedding night,
Salāmān’s wife slept in her sister’s bed; but she could not control herself and
so she proceeded to press her breast against his; whereupon, Absāl became
suspicious and said to himself: ‘Shy virgins do not do this.’ At that point, the sky was covered with dark clouds in which
lightning flashed, at which point he saw her face and so he rebuked her and
went out, determined to part company with her.
He then said to Salāmān: ‘I
would like to conquer the lands for you and I am capable thereof.’ So, he led
an army, fought many nations and conquered the countries, on land and at sea,
east and west, for his brother, without grudging him all that. He was in fact
the first Two-horned1 to conquer the vast expanse of the land.
When (Absāl) returned home,
imagining that she (i.e. Salāmān’s wife) had forgotten him, she returned to her
old way of flirtation. When she tried to embrace him, he refused and
reprimanded her.
Then an enemy appeared on
the scene; so Salāmān sent Absāl to face him at the head of his army. However,
his wife2 paid the leader of the army a sum of money so that he may abandon him
in battle. He did and so the enemy captured him and his own men left him to
bleed, assuming that he was dead. However, an animal nursing its young took
pity on him and gave him her breast to suck on, and so he was nourished,
revived and recovered his health.
Absāl then returned to
Salāmān, who was besieged and humiliated by the enemy. He was distraught at the
alleged loss of his brother, and thus Absāl caught up with him, took hold of
the army and its equipment, charged the enemy formations, dispersed them,
captured their leader and restored the kingdom to his brother.
The woman3 conspired
with his cook and food purveyor and gave them money, and so they poisoned him.4
Alas! He was upright, noble in point of lineage, knowledge and good deeds. His
brother was deeply distressed at his death and so he abandoned his throne and
delegated the authority to some of his associates. He then prayed to his Lord,
who revealed to him a clear course of action. Accordingly, he gave his wife,
the cook and the food purveyor, all three of them, the same poison they gave
his brother and so they were all gone!
This is the gist of the
story, whose interpretation is as follows: Salāmān is a simile for the rational
soul, Absāl for theoretical reason, which rises upward until it reaches the
level of acquired reason, which marks the soul’s level of gnosis, as it rises
towards perfection.
As for the wife of Salāmān,
she is the symbol of the corporal faculty, that inclines towards lust and
anger, which combined to the soul, becomes a human person.
Her love for Absāl is an
instance of her tendency to render reason subservient, as she rendered the
other faculties so that they may comply with her orders and achieve
her perishable goals. Absāl’s refusal is an instance of reason being drawn to
its own world. Her sister, whom she dominated, symbolizes the practical
faculty, known as practical reason, which is subservient to theoretical reason
and is called the ‘quiescent soul’.1 Her appearing in the guise of her
sister symbolizes the ‘commanding soul’,2 insinuating its base
desires and presenting them as genuine benefits.
The flashing lightning in
the dark clouds is a symbol for the divine flash which occurs as one is
preoccupied with perishable matters and it is one of the moments of gravitation
towards the Truth. Absāl’s reprimanding of the woman symbolizes reason’s
turning away from desire; whereas conquering the lands for his brother
symbolizes the acquaintance of the soul, through the theoretical faculty, with
the order of might and royalty and its ascent to the divine order. It also
symbolizes its ability by means of the practical faculty to manage its bodily
affairs well and to order the affairs of households and cities.
That is why he3
nicknamed him the first Two-horned, which applies to one who ruled both East
and West. His rejection by the army refers to the turning away of the sensuous,
imaginative and estimative faculties from it,4 as it ascends
towards the higher world, while those faculties decline due to their refusal to
turn towards it.
Its feeding on the milk of
beasts denotes imparting perfection to him from those entities which are
separate from this world and lie above it. As for Salāmān’s distress at the
loss of Absāl, it denotes the disturbance of the soul when it neglects the care
of what lies beneath it. His going back to his brother denotes reason’s
attention to its interests in tending the body.
The cook denotes the
irascible faculty which flares up at the time of seeking revenge. The feeder denotes
the concupiscent faculty, which draws whatever is necessary for the body. Their
conspiring to destroy Absāl is an indication of the mind’s degeneration during
the worst years of life, while the ‘commanding soul’ uses them both, due to
their increased needs on account of weakness and impotence.
As for Salāmān destroying
them, it denotes the soul’s relinquishing the use of bodily faculties, towards
the end of life and the cessation of the outbursts of anger and lust and the
cessation of their feeding faculty. His abdicating the royal office and
delegating it to another denotes the cessation of his management of the body
and passing on to the care of someone else.
This interpretation is in
conformity with what the Shaykh has said. In support of the fact that this is
the story he intended is his allusion in the Epistle on the
Decree and Destiny (Fi’l-Qaḍāʾ
wa’l-qadar) to the story of Salāmān and Absāl. He
mentioned in both the flash of lightning from the dark cloud which revealed to
him the face of Salāmān’s wife, so he turned away from
her. This is what appeared to me clearly in connection with this story; but I
did not give the story in the Shaykh’s words for fear of adding to the length
of the book.
Chapter 2
Admonition: ‘He who shuns the goods of this
world and its delectable things is called an ascetic’
I say: The seeker of an object begins by turning away from whatever he
believes will keep him away from this object of desire. Then he turns to
whatever he believes will bring him closer to it and he ends up by finding the
desired object.
Thus, the seeker of truth
ought to begin by turning away from anything other than the Truth, especially
whatever deters him from seeking it, I mean, worldly possessions and pleasures.
He will then turn to whatever he believes will bring him closer to the Truth,
which, according to the general public, consists in performing certain acts,
known as ritual observances. The two (which bring him closer) are asceticism
and worship up to a point and relinquishing and allegiance up to a point. When
he finds the truth, he will realize that the first step in the process of
finding it is cognition. Therefore, the states of the seekers of truth are
those three.1 That is why the Shaykh began by defining them.
Now, those states may be
found in persons in isolation, or alternatively in conjunction, depending on
the variety of circumstances and modes of conjunction. Thus, the two become
three and the three become one. This is what the Shaykh meant by saying ‘Some
of the above-mentioned (states) may be conjoined with each other.’
Chapter 3
Admonition: ‘Asceticism for the non-Gnostic is
a form of trading’
I say: Having referred to the conjunction of the three states, he intended
to draw attention to the goal of the Gnostic and the non-Gnostic, in point of
asceticism and worship, so that the two actions may be distinguished
accordingly. Thus, he mentioned that asceticism and worship on the part of the
non-Gnostic takes two forms: The ascetic non-Gnostic resembles a merchant who
trades one commodity for another and the non-Gnostic worshipper resembles an
employee who works day and night for the sake of receiving a wage, and although
the two actions are different, the goal is the same.
The Gnostic’s asceticism, in
that state in which he is turned towards the Truth and away from everything
else, is a form of shunning everything that diverts him from the Truth, out of
preference for his own intended object. But in that state in which he may be
looking to what is other than the Truth, he will feel bigger than anything
other than the Truth, out of contempt for what is beneath it. His worship is
then a form of exercising his energies which are the sources of his will, his
concupiscent and irascible inclinations and suchlike, as well as the
imaginative and estimative faculties of his soul, so that he may draw them all
away from inclining towards the corporal world and preoccupation with it, and
seeking instead the real world. They will then be bidding him goodbye as he
turns towards that world, so that those faculties will become accustomed to
that bidding and will not challenge reason or compete with the Secret, during
the state of contemplation. Then reason will freely join that (real) world and
all the auxiliaries and faculties beneath it will enlist with him in that
process of turning that way.
Chapter 4
Remark: ‘Since man is unable to cope
indefinitely with the condition of his soul …’
I say: Having mentioned in the preceding chapter that asceticism and worship
are practised by the non-Gnostic in order to earn the wages and rewards of the
hereafter, he1 intended to refer to the wages and rewards in question. He, thus,
affirmed prophethood and the Holy Law (Sharīʿah) and what pertains to them in the manner of the philosophers, because
it is a subsidiary of them. Demonstrating this rests on a series of principles,
which we can affirm by stating that man is not alone in the management of his
means of livelihood, because he is in need of food, clothing, habitation and
arms, either for himself or those who depend on him, be they his small children
or others. All these things are artificial matters, which cannot be managed by
a single agent, except in the course of a long spell, during which he will not
survive if he is deprived of those means or will find it hard to do so, if at
all. However, that is manageable for a group who assist and cooperate with one
another in the pursuit of those ends, especially if each one of them delegates
to one of his companions part of the work. The task will then be accomplished,
either by reciprocity, whereby each one will act like the other will act; or by
fair exchange, whereby everyone will give the other a part of his work
equivalent to what he receives.
Accordingly, man by nature
needs in his livelihood that association which is conducive to his well-being.
This is what they mean by saying, Man by nature is a political animal;2
political in their usage referring to this kind of association. This, then, is
the first maxim.
We
say further that men’s association for the purpose of cooperation is not
possible unless exchange and justice reign in their midst. For, everyone will
desire what he needs and resent whoever competes with him in its acquisition.
His desire and his anger will then lead him to be unjust towards others.
Confusion will follow and the political association will break down.
If, however, cooperation and
justice are mutually agreed upon, that will not happen. That is why they are
both necessary. Such cooperation and justice will not apply to indefinite
particulars, unless they are subject to universal rules, which constitute the
Law (Sharʿ), and thus a Holy Law (Sharīʿah) is necessary. This term is, linguistically speaking, the source from
which the thirsty draw (water to drink). It was applied to the above-mentioned
process (of lawmaking), because of the equal profit society draws from it. This
is the second principle.
We also say that the Law
requires a person who lays down those rules and affirms them in the manner
required. He is the Lawgiver.1 Now were people to quarrel among
themselves in laying down the Law, anarchy will ensue. Therefore, the Lawgiver
must exceed them in being worthy of obedience, so that the others might obey
him in accepting the Holy Law. To be worthy of obedience is confirmed by those
rules2 which indicate that the Holy Law comes from his Lord and these verses
are these miracles, which are either verbal or performative. The particular
characteristics of the verbal (signs) are more manageable; whereas the general characteristics of the performative are more
manageable. The performative cannot be accomplished without the verbal, because
prophethood and miracle-making cannot be achieved without calling for the good.
Therefore, it is necessary that a lawgiver who is both prophet and
miracle-maker should exist. This is a third principle.
Moreover, the general public
and the weak-minded despise the disturbance of the balance of justice, which is
conducive to the pursuit of their livelihood generically, whenever craving for
what they need personally takes hold of them; and so they proceed to violate
the law. That is why there exists reward and punishment in the life-to-come; so
that hope and fear might compel them to obey and to shun disobedience. For the
Holy Law cannot be secured without this as well as it should in accordance with
it. Therefore, doers of good or bad deeds ought to receive a reward from God,
who is able to reward them, and is conversant with what they reveal and
conceal, whether in form of thought, words or deeds.
The knowledge of the author
of reward and of the lawgiver ought also to be incumbent on those who obey the
Holy Law from within that Holy Law. However, general knowledge is rarely
certain and therefore is not fixed; therefore there must exist alongside it an
agent retaining it, which is memory attended by repetition. That which
comprises them both is a form of worship reminding the worshipper of the Object of Worship and repeated at successive
remnants, such as prayer and the like.
Therefore, the prophet ought
to be a caller to belief in: 1) the existence of a Creator, who is omnipotent
and all-knowing; 2) as well as belief in a truthful lawgiver sent by Him; 3)
confession of promise and threat in the world-to-come; 4) performing certain
rituals in which the name of the Creator is mentioned, together with the
attributes of His majesty; and 5) conforming to certain legal rules which
mankind need in their transactions, so that the call to that justice which
ensures the survival of the species might continue.
This is a fourth principle.
Add to this that all this is predetermined by the First Providence, because of
mankind’s need for it. Hence, it exists in all places and at all times. This is
all that is required, which is again no more general than which can be
conceived. Those who obey the law are accorded, in addition to this great
worldly gain the great other-worldly gain, according to what they have been
promised. To the Gnostics among them has been added, above and beyond the early
and late gain, the true above-mentioned perfection.
Look then at the Wisdom,
which consists in the endurance of order in this fashion; then at the mercy
which ensures the great reward, together with the great gain; and finally at
the grace, which is the true jubilation superadded to them both. Then, you will
perceive the presence of Him who provides all these goods, as One whose wonders
will dazzle you; that is, will overcome and surprise you. Apply then the Law
and head rightly towards that holy presence.
Here the eminent commentator
objected saying: ‘If by necessity in your statement, “since mankind needed a
lawgiver, his existence became necessary”, you mean essential necessity, then
that is absurd. If, on the other hand, you mean by it is necessary where God
Almighty is concerned, just at the Mu‘tazilites assert, then this is different
from your own view.1 If, finally, you mean that that (necessity) is the cause of that order
which is a certain good, who is God Almighty, source of every good, then it
follows that it must flow necessarily from Him. However, this is also false;
since it is not necessary that the best must always exist, or else all people
would be naturally good, this being the best’.
‘Similarly, to say that
miracles do not prove that the lawgiver is sent by God is not worthy of you.
For, the cause of miracles, according to you, is a psychological condition of
which the prophets partake, as do their counterparts, the magicians, as will
appear in the Fourth Section.’2
‘Now, the prophet differs
from his counterpart insofar as he calls for goodness, rather than evil, the
distinction between good and evil being a rational proposition. It follows that
miracles do not prove that their workers are prophets. Similarly, to say that
miracles prove the veracity of their workers rests on belief in a free agent,
who knows temporal particulars, to which you1 do not subscribe.
Finally, to assert that punishment is a corollary of acts of disobedience does
not conform to your principles for the punishment of the sinner, according to
you, consists in his soul yearning for this world, once it has left it. You
also hold that the sinner’s forgetting of his sin entails the cessation of the
punishment to which he is liable.’
The answer, according to
their2 principles, is to say, as for the first point, the dependence of
natural operations upon their necessary purposes, if we concede the existence
of the divine providence in the above-mentioned manner, is sufficient to prove
the reality of those (natural) operations. That is why they justify the
existence of actions by reference to their purposes, such as broadening some
teeth, for instance, which contributes to the efficiency of digestion, which is
their purpose.
Now, but for the fact that
that purpose entails the existence of the action, it would not be possible to
use it as justification. As for his statement: ‘The best is not necessary’, we
distinguish between the best for all and the best for some. The first is
necessary, but not the second. That the people are good by nature is not of
this type, as already mentioned. As for the second (statement), we comment that
strange occurrences, which include miracles, are either verbal or performative,
as we have seen. The miracles attributed to the prophet are not purely
performative. Therefore, the correlation of the operative with the verbal is
peculiar to them and is indicative of their truthfulness.
As for the third
(statement), we comment that, in addition to what has been said already with
respect to knowledge and power, the observation of the miracles, which are
signs of the souls of the prophets, indicates the perfection of those souls and
should entail believing their words.
As for the fourth
(statement), we comment that committing acts of disobedience entails the
existence of an ingrained habit in the soul, which necessitates its punishment.
Forgetting an action does not nullify that habit, so as to necessitate the
cancellation of punishment.
You should know that all
that the Shaykh has mentioned, regarding the Holy Law and prophethood is not
such that one cannot live without it. They are rather matters without which the
order conducive to the well-being of the public, with respect to livelihood and
resurrection, cannot be achieved. To be able to survive, men only need a type
of political system conducive to preserving their necessary association, even
if that kind (of association) were dependent on conquest or suchlike. The proof
of this is the fact that the inhabitants of the inhabited world manage to live
according to necessary systems of government.
Chapter 5
Remark: ‘The Gnostic seeks the First Truth for
no other reason’
I say: Having mentioned the goals of the Gnostic and the non-Gnostic, with
respect to asceticism and worship, and having established the principles of the
goals of others than he; I mean, reward and punishment, he proceeded to refer
in this chapter to the goals of the Gnostic in what he intends.
We say: The Gnostic has in point of real perfection two states relative to
him; the first is peculiar to his soul alone, and that is his love of that
perfection; the second is peculiar to both his soul and body and that is his
motion for the purpose of coming closer to it. The Shaykh has designated the
first as will, the second as worship. He has also mentioned that the will of
the worshipper and his worship are linked to the First Truth, may He be
glorified for Himself and not to anyone else by virtue of His Essence. If they
are linked to anything other than the Truth, that would be for the sake of the
Truth also.
His statement: ‘Nothing can
be preferred to knowing Him’ means that nothing other than the Truth can be
preferred to knowing Him. For the Truth as such is to be preferred to the
knowledge thereof, because knowledge is not preferred by the known for its own
sake, as he indicated in what follows: I mean his statement: ‘That whoever
prefers knowledge for the sake of knowledge is subscribing to the second
(view).’ For all that is preferred, but not for its own sake, is necessarily
preferred for the sake of another. Thus, knowledge is preferred for the sake of
another, who is the Truth and nothing else. For the Truth is preferable to
knowledge. The Gnostic is said to prefer nothing other than the Truth over His
knowledge, because the non-Gnostic prefers to earn the reward and guard against
punishment, rather than knowledge. For he seeks knowledge for the sake of the
two only; whereas, the Gnostic does not prefer anything else to Him, except
that Truth, which is preferred for itself, in relation to Him. His1
statement: ‘And worshipping it only’, indicates that the worship of the Gnostic
depends also only on the Truth.
Should it be objected that
this contradicts what he2 has said already, to the effect that
the Gnostic’s worship is an exercise of his faculties, in order to draw them
closer to the presence of the Truth, which is other than Himself; since drawing
our faculties closer to the presence of the Truth is not the same as the Truth
Himself, we would say that his intent is not that the Gnostic does not aim in
his worship at anything other than the Truth absolutely, but rather that the
Gnostic does not aim at anything other than the Truth in Himself. Indeed, He
seeks the Truth in Himself, and were he to aim at something else, would seek it
accidentally and for the sake of the Truth, as already mentioned.
This is a sound judgment,
insofar as the Gnostic observes himself in relation to the First Truth, who is
his object of desire for Himself. Then, if each one of these, the Truth and
worship, is observed, in relation to each other, it will be found that
predicating worship on the First Truth is necessary in the two senses. As for
observing the Truth in relation to worship, it is by virtue of what he1
mentioned in his statement: ‘Because He is deserving of worship’, but as for
observing worship in relation to the Truth, it is by virtue of what he intended
in his statement: ‘And because it is a noble relation to Him’.
The Eminent Commentator has
mentioned in this context that the worship of the Gnostics is either for the
sake of the Truth Himself, or of an attribute of His; or for the sake of
perfecting themselves. These are three classes set apart. The Shaykh referred
to the first in these words: ‘And worshipping Him alone’; to the second in
these words: ‘And because He is worthy of worship’; and to the third in these
words: ‘And because it is a noble relation to Him’.
I say that there is in this
interpretation an admission that the Gnostic may have another object of worship
as such other than the Truth; whereas the rest of this chapter indicates the
opposite.
Moreover, the Shaykh has
referred to the fact that the object of the Gnostic is different from the objects
of other people in these words: Not for the sake of any desire or out of any
fear’; that is, neither for a desire for rewards, or fear of punishment.
He has also shown the
falsity of the view that it is an object in relation to the Gnostic in these words:
‘And they were’. That is, if the desire and fear, already mentioned, were two
goals of worship, then the desired reward and the despised punishment are the
motive for worshipping the Truth, and therein lies the object of desire of the
Worshipper of the Truth. Thus, the Truth will not be the end, but rather the
means to earning the reward and avoiding the punishment, which is the goal and
this is the object. Then, that would be the object of worship in itself, rather
than the Truth. (This is the explanation of this chapter.)
The Eminent Commentator
says: Some people have regarded the claim that God Almighty can be an object of
desire in Himself as absurd and have contended that will is a faculty which
bears on contingents only, because it entails choosing one aspect of the object
desired rather than the other and that cannot be conceived except in the realm
of contingents. He also says: ‘The Shaykh has also demonstrated at the
beginning of the sixth section2 that whoever desires a thing must feel
that acquiring the desired object is preferable to not acquiring it.’ By the
first object of desire should be meant the first intention which is the
acquisition.
He also based on it his
statement, that every desirer is perfectable. Therefore, whoever
intends God Almighty, his intention is not God Almighty, but rather his own
self-perfection.
His1 response to both is
that they are a petition of principle, because they rest on the proposition
that will cannot attach except to the possible or what perfects the desirer,
which is the point of the objection.
We say: The Will attaches to God and nothing other than Him also. For, the
point in showing that the will, which attaches to what the desirer does,
entails the possibility of the object desired and the perfectibility of the
desirer; not due to the will attaching itself to him, but rather because it is
an action, or is accessible to the desirer by his will. Here, however, the
object willed is different. Therefore, the objections fall to the ground.
Chapter 6
Remark: ‘He who regards the Truth as
intermediary deserves mercy in one sense …’2
The Shaykh has noted in both cases the
Tradition of the Prophet, may blessing and prayer be on him: ‘Whoever’s tongue
(laqlaq), belly (qahqab)
and male organ (dhabdhab) are guarded is
well-guarded.’ (Other lexical points.)
The aim of this chapter is
to excuse whoever allows the Truth to be a means of winning another over;
namely, one who despises the world and worships the Truth, either out of a
desire for reward or out of fear of punishment. The true aspect of the pardon consists
in showing its imperfections as such.
There are in the words of
the Shaykh many subtleties, which are revealed to their observer. One of them
is his description of sensuous pleasures as deformities, or an imperfection
that cannot disappear. The other is his comparing one who cannot envisage true
jubilation to a blind man who seeks something which he has missed. For, he
reaches out with his hand to what is close to him, regardless of whether it is
the object he is seeking or not.
Another subtle point is his
calling attention to the fact that the asceticism of the non-Gnostic is a
compulsory form of asceticism. For, although he looks like real ascetics, he
is, of all people, the most attached to sensuous pleasures. For, whoever
relinquishes one thing so as to receive its double in the future is much closer
to greed than contentedness.
Another subtlety is his
attributing the non-Gnostic’s industry to meanness and weakness. For his (Ibn
Sīnā’s) words, ‘There is no scope to his vision’, implies that he is too mean
to deserve those sensuous pleasures. Add to this (subtlety) his eloquent
expressions in singling out the pleasures of the belly and the private parts.
He
(the Shaykh) has also mentioned at the end of this chapter that this imperfect
pitiable fellow will receive what he expects and seeks assiduously of sensuous
pleasures, in accordance with what the blessed prophets have promised. He has
referred to the modality of that in the Eighth Section, where he mentions the
possibility of the souls of imbeciles attaching to bodies which are the creation
of their imaginations. He has designated that happiness as the happiness they
deserve.
Chapter 7
Remark: ‘The first grade of the motions of
Gnostics is what they themselves call the will …’
I say: I ʿtarāh means occurred to
him, and clinging to the ‘Strongest Bond’1 is taking refuge
therein.
You should know that the
Shaykh, having mentioned the objectives of the Gnostics and others, wanted to
mention their consequent states as they followed the path of Truth, from the
beginning of their motion to its end, which is attaining God Almighty.
He also wanted to explain
what occurs to them in the mansions they attain; so he gave them in eleven
consecutive chapters. The first is this one, which contains the mention of the
principles of their motions. Thus, he mentioned that will is the first of their
grades, which are ranged according to their motions and is the proximate
principle of movement. Its starting point is conceiving the essential
perfection proper to the First Principle, whose effects flow upon those of His
creation who are prepared, according to the measure of their preparedness. This
is followed by assenting to His existence in a definite way, accompanied by the
soul’s quietude, regardless of whether that (assent) is apodictic, resting on a
demonstrative syllogism, or an act of faith derived from assenting to the words
of the masters, who guide to God Almighty. For each one of these two (modes of
assent) is a form of belief entailing the instigation of its subject to pursue
that emanation. Now, insofar as the will is dependent on that assent, he (i.e. Ibn Sīna) has defined it as a state which ensues upon
investigation or the above-mentioned loss. Then, he declared that it consists
in the desire to cling to the Strongest Bond, which neither changes nor
perishes, and is therefore the starting point of progress towards the Sacred
World. Its aim is to acquire the spirit of conjunction (ittiṣāl), with that world.
You should know that the
Shaykh has mentioned in the Third Section2 that voluntary
animal motion has four consecutive principles: 1) understanding, then
2) yearning, called concupiscence or
anger, 3) then determination, which is called decisive will and 4) the
consenting faculty disseminated in the different organs. This
last faculty is voluntary, but not animal, and possesses the first of the
above-mentioned principles. This corresponds to what he has termed
investigation or the stage corresponding to the quiescence of the soul. It also
has the second and the third, which he has designated as will. They are allied
here, because they do not differ, except as a result of differing motives or
deterrents; but that difference cannot be conceived in conjunction with the
quiescence of the soul, which he proposed here as a condition. The fourth
principle is left out, because that motion is not corporal.
(The Eminent Commentator has
given in explaining this chapter the types of seekers of Truth and the training
appropriate to each type; but this is not relevant to its subject-matter.)
Chapter 8
Remark: ‘Moreover, he will require training …
.’
The aim of this chapter is the discussion
of the disciple’s1 need for training and the aims of that training. I will mention, before
engaging in the discussion, the nature of training or exercise. Now, the aim of
the training of beasts consists in barring them from certain movements which
the trainer does not approve and forcing them to perform what he likes, so that
they will get used to obeying him.
As for the animal faculty
which is the root of perceptions, as well as animal operations in man, whenever
they do not possess the habit of obeying the rational faculty, they are really
similar to an untrained beast. That faculty is actuated at times by its lust
and at others times by its anger, both of which are stimulated by the
imaginative and estimative (faculties), on account of what they resemble at
times, or receive from the external senses at other times. They would then
concur with them, and move in various animal ways due to those motives. The
animal faculty sometimes uses the rational faculty in seeking its objectives,
and thus it corresponds to the ‘commanding soul,’2 from which actions
of various types arise.
The animal3
(faculty) is submissive by force and is disturbed, but if it is trained by the
rational faculty, by preventing it from imaginings, estimations, sensations and
those actions which stimulate lust or anger, on the one hand, and forcing it to
submit to what practical reason stipulates, to the point of becoming
well-disposed to obey it and is willing to serve it, submit to its orders and
desist its prohibitions, on the other hand, then the rational (faculty) will be
‘quiescent’4 and no essentially different action will emanate from it. Then all the
remaining faculties will be obedient and submissive to it.
There are other intermediate
conditions, depending on the degree of one or the other being in control,
whereby the animal (faculty) will follow its own fancy and resist the rational.
It will subsequently regret and then it will become ‘reproachful.’1
These faculties have been designated as ‘commanding,’ ‘reproachful’ and
‘quiescent’ in conformity with these attributes ascribed to it in the divine
revelation.2
Accordingly, training the
soul denotes prohibiting it from following its whims and commanding it to obey
its master. But since the rational objectives are diverse, the forms of
training are diverse. Some are forms of rational exercise, referred to in
(books of) practical wisdom; others are auditory exercises, called legal
observances, the most delicate observances; of which being the exercises of the
Gnostics; for they only seek the Face of God, everything else being a
distraction for them. Their training consists in barring the soul from turning
towards anything other than the First Truth and forcing it to turn towards Him,
so that turning towards Him and desisting from anything else will become an
ingrained habit for it.
It is clear that every
exercise is part of this training in reality, but not its converse. However,
they differ to the extent their ranks differ in their conduct, beginning from
the highest variety and ending with the most delicate.
This is what I wished to say
on the subject of training. I will now return to the main subject and state
that the highest aim of training is one thing; namely, achieving true
perfection. But that is dependent on the attainment of an existential
condition, which is disposition. Achieving that condition, however, depends on
removing the obstacles, which are either external or internal. It follows that
training in this sense is directed towards three goals: 1) The first is
removing whatever is beneath the Truth from gaining favour and this is the
meaning of removing external obstacles. 2) The second is forcing the
‘commanding soul’ to submit to ‘the quiescent,’ so that the imagination and
estimation are drawn to the sacred presence and away from the inferior
presence. Then the remaining faculties will follow suit necessarily by removing
the intellectual obstacles; I mean the already mentioned animal desires. 3) The
third is the subtilization of the Secret for the sake of attention, which
consists in acquiring the disposition for achieving perfection. For the
correspondence of the Secret to the subtle object is not possible without its
subtilization.
Now, the subtlety of the
Secret consists in its readiness, so that rational forms may be represented in
it quickly and are affected by divine matters which easily delight the yearning
and passion.
Moreover, when the Shaykh
concluded the discussion of the aims of exercise, he proceeded to mention
whatever is helpful in attaining each of those aims.
As for the first, he
mentioned that the one thing which helps in attaining it is
that true asceticism pertaining to the Gnostics, which consists in shunning
whatever directs the Secret from the Truth, as already mentioned, and this is
obvious.
As for the second, he gave
three things which help in attaining it. The first is worship attended by
thought, meaning that which belongs to the Gnostics. The advantage of its
conjunction with thought is that worship causes the body as a whole to follow
the soul. Thus, if the soul were nevertheless directed towards the presence of
the Truth by means of thought, then man would become wholly turned towards the
Truth; otherwise worship would become a source of unhappiness, as the Almighty
has said: “Woe unto those who pray, but are oblivious of their prayer.”1
The way in which this prayer helps to attain the second aim is that it is also
a kind of exercise of the worshipper’s and Gnostic’s powers, and the faculties
of his soul, aimed at diverting them by means of habituation from the presence
of illusion to the presence of the Truth, as already mentioned.
The second is melodies,
which help both essentially and accidentally. The way they help essentially is
that the rational soul welcomes them, due to its admiration of coordinated harmonies
and regulated ratios, manifested in the voice which is the matter of reason. It
then forgets the use of animal faculties for its particular aims and then these
faculties are made to follow it, and the melodies will be subservient to it
also.
As for its help
accidentally, that will consist in finding the words corresponding to (the
melodies), by way of reception on the part of the imagination, insofar as it
includes simulation, to which the soul naturally inclines. Then if the words
are declamatory, calling for seeking perfection, the soul becomes attentive to
what ought to be done and then it will overcome the faculties distracting it
and subjugates them.
The third consists in the
declamatory speech itself; I mean, that which is conducive to assenting to what
ought to be done by way of persuasion and the soul’s quiescence. For it exhorts
the soul and causes it to subdue the other faculties, especially if it is
attended by four things. The first refers to the speaker, or his being
intelligent. For this is an attestation of his truthfulness; the sermonization
of one who does not accept advice will not succeed, because his actions belie
his words.
The remaining three refer to
speech. 1) One relates to the utterance, which consists in being expressed in
eloquent words; that is, which are pleasant and of clear intent of all that the
speaker means, without increase or decrease, as if it is a mould into which the
meaning was cast. 2) Another relates to the form of the utterance, whereby it
is given in a musical voice; since the soft voice indicates the form of the
soul, contributing thereby to ready acceptance. Its harshness contributes, by
contrast, to a form preparing it to refusal of acceptance. Musical tones also
have different effects on the soul, each of which corresponds to a different
kind of form. Physicians and orators use these in treating psychic illnesses or
effecting the desired kinds of persuasion, according to those modes of
correspondence. 3) Another relates to meaning, which should follow a sensible
course; namely, conducive to that assent which profits the disciple quickly.
You should know that the
same sermonizing speech is called in the art of rhetoric the ‘pillar;’ whereas
the aforementioned matters attached to it and conducive to persuasion are
called ‘drawings out.’
As for the third, he1
has mentioned two things which facilitate it. The first is refined thought, which
consists in its being moderate in quality and quantity and at times during
which bodily functions, such as over-eating or vomiting and the like, do not
bar the soul from rational understanding. For, excessive preoccupation with
such thoughts will give the soul a property which enables it to apprehend
matters easily. The second is pure love. For, you should know that human love
is divisible into real, already discussed, and figurative. The latter is
divisible into spiritual and beastly. The spiritual is the one whose principle
is the resemblance of the soul of the lover to that of the loved one in
essence, whereby he admires the fine traits of the beloved, because they are
effects emanating from his soul. The beastly is the one whose principle is
beastly lust and the desire for beastly pleasure, whereby the lover admires the
shape of the beloved, his looks, colour, and the delineation of his organs,
which are bodily matters.
The Shaykh intended by the
expression ‘pure love’ the first of the two figures, because the second is
consequent upon the ‘commanding’ soul’s control and assists it to subserve the
rational faculty. It is often attended by debauchery and clinging to it;
whereas the first is different, since it causes the soul to be mellow,
compassionate, characterized by yearning and tenderness, disinterested in
worldly cares, repelling anything other than the beloved and reducing all its
cares to a single care. That is why it is easier for the lover to cling to the
real beloved than anybody else because he does not need to turn away from many
things. This is what is meant by the saying: ‘Whoever loves and remains pure
keeps his secret, then dies, will die as a martyr’.
Chapter 9
Remark: ‘Then if will and exercise have reached
a certain pitch …’ (Arabic lexical points)
The Shaykh has referred in this chapter to
the lower degrees of passion and conjunction which only occur after a certain
measure of readiness, acquired through will and
exercise, is achieved, and then goes on increasing with increased preparedness.
Its designation as ‘moment’ has been observed in the saying of the Prophet, may
God bless him and his family: ‘I have with God a moment which no favoured angel
or a sent prophet can dispense with’. The two passions attendant upon the time
are not equal, because the first is a form of sorrow at the tardiness of the
passion, the other regret for missing it.
1. ʿĀrifīn, plural of ʿārif, used by Ibn Sīnā to denote
those who have partaken of mystical cognitive experience, Arabic, ʿirfān.
2. Opening line of the chapter
in al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt. Cf. Engl. tr. in An Anthology of Philosophy in Persia, London, 2008, vol. 1,
pp. 303–311.
3. Ibn Sīnā.
4. That is, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī.
5. That is, al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt.
6. Ibn Sīnā.
7. This expression usually
prefaces Ṭūsī’s comments.
8. Ibn Sīnā’s.
9. Or Sufis.
10. Cf. English translation, An Anthology of Philosophy in Persia, vol. 1, p. 303.
1. Qurʾān 32:17.
2. The editor gives al-Jurjānī,
which is wrong. In fact, Salāmān and Absāl is not given in the modern edition
of al-Jurjānī’s list, but has been published in a collection of treatises, Tisʿu rasāʾil, Istanbul, 1298/1881.
1. A reference to Alexander the
Great, who is usually referred to in the Arabic sources, including the Qurʾān, as the ‘Two-horned’, or
ruler of East and West.
2. Original: the woman.
3. Salāmān’s wife.
4. i.e. Absāl.
1. Cf. Qurʾān 89:27.
2. Cf. Qurʾān 12:53.
3. Ibn Sīnā.
4. The theoretical faculty.
1. As given by Ibn Sīnā, the
three states are that of the ascetic, the worshipper and the Gnostic (ʿārif).
1. Ibn Sīnā.
2. Arabic madanī.
It is Aristotle, who states that man is a zoon politikon.
The term ‘political’ derives from the Greek word for a city, polis (Arabic, madīnah).
1. That is, a prophet in Muslim
usage.
2. Of the Qurʾān.
1. Ṭūsī appears to be engaging in a
debate with Ibn Sīnā on the question of the good as independent of the divine
decree, first raised by the Muʿtazilites.
2. al-Namaṭ al-ʿāshir of the Ishārāt.
1. Addressing Ibn Sīnā.
2. He appears to mean the
philosophers in general.
1. Ibn Sīnā.
2. Ibn Sīnā.
1. Ibn Sīnā.
2. al-Ishārāt,
vol. 3, p. 122.
1. The Commentator’s.
2. The commentary opens with a
series of Arabic lexical points.
1. Qurʾān 2:256 and 31:22.
2. Cf. al-Ishārāt,
vol. 2, pp. 435 f.
1. Or novice (murīd), a technical Sufi term.
2. The soul ‘commanding’ evil,
as in Qurʾān 12:53.
3. The text says rational (?).
4. Cf. Qurʾān 89:27.
1. Cf. Qurʾān 75:2.
2. i.e. the Qurʾān.
1. Qurʾān 107:4–5.
1. Ibn Sīnā.
TREATISE ON THE DIVISION OF EXISTENTS
Risālah andar qismat-i
mawjūdāt
Reprinted from Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Risālah
andar qismat-i mawjūdāt, ed. M. T. Mudarris Raḍawī, tr. Parviz Morewedge as The Metaphysics of Tusi: Treatise on the Division of Existents
(New York, 1992), pp. 1–58.
In the Name of God, the Merciful, the
Compassionate.
So states [The Learned Mawlānā], The King of
the wise, the ally of the nation [of the faithful] and of religion—may he be
protected by God, with His blessing and His benedictions:
(1) [Let us reflect] on the division of
Existents. Among the theologians their division is of two kinds: either they do
or do not have an initiator. The first are generated; the second are eternal.
Eternal, however, is the essence of God the Exalted and His Attributes. The
followers of Ashʿarī [the theologians who are occasionalists] hold that eight attributes
are co-eternal with It: power, knowledge, life, comprehension, will, [the
faculty of] hearing, sight, and logos [lit. language]. The ancient [theological
school of] Muʿtazilah [the upholders of free will] hold the view that Divine
attributes are neither existent nor deprived [of existence]. There is a
controversy between them on this topic. The true position is that the essence
of the Divine Truth and The Exalted is a unity from any perspective; no
existing attribute [need be] added to It.
(2) The generated is either
[situated] in a [spatio-temporal] subject, or is a state in a subject, or
neither is in a subject nor is a state in a subject. The majority of the
theologians deny the [existence of the] third kind, and call the second kind
‘an accident’.
(3) The first kind is either
divisible or indivisible. If it is indivisible, it is called ‘a substance’. If
it is divisible, it is so from either one, two, or three dimensions. The first
is called ‘a line’, the second ‘a surface’, the third ‘a body’. A body is
either dense or light, dense being like water and earth, light being like the
angels, jinn, and air.
(4) That which is a state in
a subject [i.e., the second kind] and is called ‘an accident’ is of two kinds.
Either it cannot or [it] can be in a subject without that existent [in which it
resides]. The first [divided into three groups] is called a[n actual] being and
this is realized in a subject. Thus, realization in a subject comes about
either due to realization by another entity, or due to the realization in [the
subject] itself, or due to privation. The first is called ‘motion’, the second
‘rest’, the third ‘the primary [actual] being’.
(5)
The second division is of two kinds with regard to extension, [either] it is in
need of, or it is not in need of, a substance [for it to be instantiated].1
The first are the sensibles [received] by the five senses and are of five
kinds. The first, being sensed by sight, is [the set of] colours. Some hold
that the principal colours are white and black. Muʿtazilah hold the fundamental colours to be
five: white, black, red, yellow, and green. Others hold that all [colours] are
fundamental. The second kind of sensible, which is sound, is sensed by the
auditory faculty. Notes are qualities found in sounds by means of instruments.
The third kind are the sensibles to the sense of taste, the gustatory
[sensations] such as the sharpness [of spices], bitterness, saltiness,
sweetness, fattiness, acidity, astringency, briskness, and blandness, and all
combinations of these [sensations]. The fourth are the sensibles to the
olfactory [organ], odours, such as pleasant smells called perfumes and
unpleasant odours called stenches, as well as [those which are] neither
pleasant nor unpleasant. The fifth are those sensed by the sensation of touch,
which are of two kinds: first sensations of pressure, which are weight and lightness;
the second are these four: hot, cold, wet, and dry.
(6) The [members of the]
second group which with respect to extension are in need of a place are of two
kinds: one [i] which is not and the second [ii] which is in need or privation
[of a subject]. The first [i] is in an aggregate [state] while the second [ii]
is of two kinds.2 Of the second, the first type [ii–a] is such that others cannot exist
without it, and such is life. The other type [ii–b] is such that others exist
without it, and of this there are two further types, one [ii–b1] which can
exist in proportion in all parts, e.g., pain; the other [ii–b2] which cannot be
in all parts but only in a specific part, and of this in turn there are two
types, [ii–b21] and [ii–b22]. The first [ii–b21] is not peculiar to a unique
organ and is [called] a power, the other [ii–b22] is peculiar to a unique
organ, e.g., to the heart [of the entity], and of this again there are two
types, [ii–b221 and ii–b222]. The first [ii–b221] pertains to attraction
towards or repulsion away from an entity, while the second [ii–b222] does not
pertain to attraction or repulsion. The first [ii–b221] is of two kinds, one
[ii–b2211] being related to the acquisition or privation of an entity, and that
is will or repulsion; or, it is not such, and that [ii–b2212] is lust and
hatred.3 That which does not pertain to attraction and repulsion [ii–b222] is
of two kinds: it [ii–b2221] is either a command about existents either in a positive
or a negative [manner], or a desire [ii–b2222] for that command.
(7) A command is either [c1]
decisive or [c2] indecisive. The first [c1] is called belief and is of two
kinds: either it is in accord with [deliberated consent] [c11] or not [c12], in
which case it is absolute ignorance.1 If it [c11] is in accord with consent,
then either it is due to a cause [c111] which is similar or dissimilar to that
belief [itself]. Or, if it is due to a cause, then that cause is either [c1111]
obtained or [c1112] not obtained. If it is obtained [c1111], then it is
theoretical, whereas if it [c1112] is due to an inner condition such as the
states of hunger or satiety it is called subjective. If it [c112] is not due to
a cause that is similar to that belief, then it is imitation. If it [c2] is
insufficient [to initiate the action in question], it is called conjecture
[about opinions]. If one side dominates the other [it is called] a prehension.2
If both sides are equal, it is called doubt.
(8) The second, which is a
desire for a decision [ii–b2222], is called a consideration. This is the
summation of the division of entities according to the theologians. Whatever is
not among these is not considered an existent. Others consider annihilation,
death, weakness, will, repulsion, which are [inapplicable to God], as
accidents. This is far from the truth. Thus, ephemeral-created genera are in
these twenty-two groups: first substance and the remainder as accident: places,
colours, sounds, tastes, odours, lightness or heaviness (lit. reliance), heat,
cold, wetness, dryness, completion, life, pain, power, will, repulsion, lust,
aversion, belief, conjecture, and consideration. Ten of these genera depend on
the five functions of the bodily parts: [experiences of] beings, sounds,
lightness and heaviness, compulsion, and pain; five are actions of the heart:
will, repulsion, belief, conjecture, and [scientific] speculation.
(9) The second species of
division of existent according to the position of the philosophers [is
twofold]: necessary or contingent. Only God the Exalted is necessary.
Contingent existents, however, are of two kinds: those in need of a subject and
those that are not in a subject.3 The difference between the subject and
the place is this: the subject does not depend on what is imbedded in it and
[may] persist [by itself], while what is embedded in it cannot persist without
it. That which is in a subject is an accident. Thus, a substance is [logically]
either [i] in a place, [ii] itself is a place, [iii] composed of state and a
place, or [iv] is neither a place, nor a state, nor a composite of these. The
first is called a form, the second, matter; the third, body, and the fourth,
the separate entities. The form is either such that all bodies in it are
equivalent and is called a form of super-lunary bodies, or it is unlike this
and would be a form of a [sub-lunary] species. Matter of the form of a species
may be alterable or not; the former is called the matter of the elements or of
the world of generation and corruption, the latter is the matter of the
heavens.
(10) Bodies are of two kinds
[j1 and j2]: first [j1] are noble bodies called the heavenly bodies subdivided
into two, luminary [j11] and dark [j12]. The first are called the stars, the
second the heavens. The second type of bodies [j2] are those of the world of
generation and corruption, which are sub-lunary and are of two kinds, the
simple [bodies] [j21] and the composites [j22]. Simples [j21] are of four
kinds: fire, air, water, and earth. Composites [j22] are of three kinds, which
are called [three] kinds [of mixtures]; first, minerals; second, plants; third,
animals. Minerals are of two kinds: [solid] bodies and [non-solid] [lit. immaterial]
entities. Solid minerals [which are capable of being melted] are of seven
kinds: gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, lead, and kharsiyānī
[a yellow gold-like metal]. Non-solid [minerals] are spirits and souls and the
like. [Mineral] spirits are quicksilver, and active principles [lit. souls] of
arsenic and sulphur, and the like. Either they are aromatic roots, such as
salty mixtures, vitriol, sodium nitrate, and the like; or they are bodies like
stones and the like [which do not go through a meltdown process].
(11) Plants are of two
types: either they have a stem and are called trees, or they have no stem and
are called bushes [lit. najm]. Each of them may or
may not have a fruit.
(12) An animal may be
rational and non-rational, rational like human beings, or non-rational like
[non-human] animals. These are beasts, members of the lion family, wild animals
of the deserts, birds, reptiles, insects, and alike.
(13) But the separated
entities are, or are not, governors of and processors of bodies. The first kind
is called soul, and it consists of two kinds: angelic and human. The second
kind is called intelligence. The first intelligence is called the universal
intelligence, and the last is the active intelligence and the bestower of
forms. Some [philosophers] maintain that these [forms bestowed] are accidents
in the souls and the intelligences and call them spiritual accidents.
(14) Accidents are of two
kinds: either capable of being divided into parts or capable of being related.
A third kind is neither capable of division nor relation.1 The first are called
quantities, the second relations, and the third qualities. Quantities are of
two kinds: either they have or do not have a limit shared [by their
constituents]. The first is called a continuous quantity, the second a discrete
quantity. [Concerning a continuous quantity], the entity may be one of two
kinds: either qār al-dhāt, a continuum [such as
water] whose constituents exist simultaneously, or a non-qār
al-dhāt continuum [such as time] whose constituents do not exist
simultaneously. A continuous entity not capable of division in any dimension is
called a point; if it is divisible from the dimension of length, it is called a
line, of which there are two kinds: straight and curved. If it is divisible
from the dimension of length and width, it is called a surface, of which there
are two kinds, simple and convex. If it is divisible in three aspects, it is
called a body. Such a body is an analytical [concept of a] body, while an
[empirically grounded one] is a natural body. That whose parts do not persist
together [i.e., non-qār al-dhāt] is called time,
which is the measure of motion. The discrete quantitative kind is called a
number.
(15) But qualities are of
four [general] kinds. First [there are] the five sensible qualities [of the
five senses]. The sensibles with respect to sight are of two kinds: colour and
light. The sensibles with respect to the auditory sense are of two kinds: notes
and sounds; the sensibles with respect to taste, food; with respect to the
olfactory sense, odours; with respect to the sense of touch, the four
qualities, pressure and lightness and others. The second [general] type of
qualities of the soul [are psychological and are] of two kinds: either quick to
depart and that is called [a psychological] state, like happiness, sadness,
sorrow, shame, grief, anger, lust, and others. Or, they are slow to depart and
are called agreeable and disagreeable dispositions, such as purity,
resignation, avarice, jealousy, and the like. The third [general] kind is
[preparing] the defensive [system] which consists of the elimination of a
[malady] and is called power, such as [adopting a regime] for the cure, or
acceptance of an effect, which is called lack of power, such as sickness. The
fourth [general] kind is a quality specific to quantities. In continuous
entities, in the case of the line, straightness and curvature; in the case of
figures, four-sidedness and three-sidedness; among the discrete entities, in
the case of numbers, evenness and oddness; and in conclusion, qualities capable
of being increased and decreased and other classes [of qualities] with similar
features.
(16) [Consider] the
relational accidents; they are of seven kinds: first, relations which relate
two entities [the members of the range and the domain of relations], such as
fatherhood and being a son, being higher and being lower, being sister and
being brother, and others. Second is ‘place’, which is the relation between
that which resides in its [location] and [the location] itself; the third is
time, and that is the link among bodies with a temporal duration, or with that
aspect of time called ‘a moment’; fourth is posture, the relation among parts,
such as sitting and rising, and others. Fifth is possession, the relationship
of a body with what is included in it and is transported with its transferral,
such as the wearing of clothes, the putting on of shoes, or the placing of a
ring on the finger. Sixth is action, the affecting of an existent, such as
cutting and breaking. Seventh is passion, accepting the effect, such as being
broken and being cut, and the like. Thus, [according to philosophers] the
highest genera which apply to all contingent being are ten: substance,
quantity, quality, relation, place, time, posture, state, action, passion;
these are called the ten categories. In this poem there are examples of each of
the ten:
A tall man, good and nobler [than any other]
in town,
With his wealth, he rests on
his domain today.
(17) Some say that
unity and a point are two existents which are not included in the categories.
According to the mutakallimūn, many of these
divisions do not exist. For the analytical [philosophers], however, they all
exist, some in the mind, and some in the [external] world of determined
entities.
(18) On the differentia. On
[the subject of] motion and rest the theologians hold that these are of two
[distinct] genera. Among the philosophers, however, motion [is described to be]
the gradual coming out [of a state]. It happens in four modes: in the category
of quantity there are two kinds: first, expansion of volume, a body being
augmented in its own natural place—for example, when water is heated, it cannot
be confined to its place—and compression, the opposite of [expansion]; second,
growth, and its opposite, withering. Among the animals it applies to being
obese and being thin, which are becoming fat and lean [correspondingly]. In the
same manner in the category of quality, such as leaving [the state] of
blackness to [receive the property] of whiteness, from power to weakness, from
health to sickness which are called modification of one’s state. That which is
the vapour [lit. wind] of water is not considered a motion; from one
perspective it is called a corruption with respect to that vapour, and a
generation with respect to the wind. With respect to the category of place,
[there is] departure from a place, and that is called locomotion. Straight
motion belongs to this genius. [However, if such a motion should take place] in
the category of position [lit. posture], then it is called circular motion, in
which case, while positions are altered, [the entity] as a whole is not
transported [from its place].
(19) Types of changes which
involve two things which together cannot [co-exist in their present state], are
of four [types]: negation and affirmation, such as ‘Zayd is a human’ and ‘Zayd
is not human’; secondly due to disposition and privation and such as ‘Zayd
sees’ and ‘Zayd is blind’; thirdly, due to relation, such as ‘Zayd is the
father of Amr’; fourthly, by way of contrariety, such as ‘Zayd is white’ and
‘Zayd is black’. The difference between contrary and contradictory is that the
contraries cannot be added, but remain distinct from one another. The
contradictories are neither added nor can they be taken away from one another.
The distinction between contraries, privations, and dispositions is that in the
pair of contraries, privations, and dispositions cannot both exist
simultaneously, but at any given time one must exist. The distinction between
relations and other species is such that the latter apply only to one existent,
while the former apply to two [existents]. The difference between negation and
affirmation, one the one hand, and contradictories, on the other, is that the
former are more common than the latter, because contradictories differ with
respect to negation and affirmation, and not all things distinct with respect
to negation and affirmation are [necessarily] contradictories.
(20)
Priority is [of] six [kinds]: First, priority with respect to order, such as
priority of yesterday to today; the philosophers have proven this type of
priority. Second, priority with respect to [inner] essence, such as the
priority of cause to effect; the ancients did not provide proof for this [type
of priority]. Third, priority with respect to time, such as the priority with
respect to father and son; fourth, priority with respect to place, such as the
priority between the leader [for example, Imam in the prayer] and the followers.
Fifth, priority with respect to nobility, such as the priority of Muḥammad [may God bless him
and his descendants] to Abū Bakr [the first caliph]. Sixth, priority with
respect to nature, such as priority of one to two. Posteriority and concurrence
follow the same argument. [Let us consider the following] problem.
(21) The atomic substance of
a simple body is continuous for sense perception, [and] it is divisible. Thus
it must be in one of two states: it [i] may be composed of parts that cannot be
divided [themselves]; [in the context of perception, this] connection is a
constitution among parts; discreteness, however, is privation of a
constitution. Or, [ii] [the simple body] may not be a composite. In that case,
the reality of the body is this very continuousness and connection that appears
to the sense. If it is divided, it is either so [ii.1] due to a given cause
that necessitates its division, such as cutting or diminishing; or, due to the
distinction of its accidents, such as whiteness and blackness; or, due to the
different oppositions; or, in conjecture. [Let us turn our attention to] the
conceptual analysis of division. It is a consequence of a distinction between
two or more bodies. In each of these two we are presented with two sub-cases:
either there is or is not a finite [magnitude] in each part or division. Thus,
concerning this issue there are four possible positions. The first concerns a
body composed of parts, the parts being finite, such that largeness or
smallness of the body is due to the number of the parts being many or few. Each
part is called an atom[ic substance], parts being indivisible. Most theologians
hold this doctrine. The second doctrine, following the first, similarly holds
that a body is composed of parts, except that the parts are infinite.1
This is the doctrine of [the theologian] Naẓẓām and some of the Ancients. The third view
is that a body is not a composite, but is infinitely divisible; ultimately,
however, one arrives at a point where further division is impossible,
indicating the falsity of this position. The fourth school states that a body
is not a composite but is receptive to division into parts that are infinite,
and the meaning of infinite parts [unlike the third thesis] is that division
never results in a state in which further division is impossible. [This is the
case,] even though such dividing is only imaginable or thought. However, the
parts realized [from this operation] are finite [in number], since one [may at
any point] identify a first and a last [part]. Notwithstanding that what has
been realized [at any stage] is finite, division will never result in a state
in which the quantity is incapable of further division. This is the meaning of
infinitude in this context. This is the doctrine of the philosophers, and some
of the recent theologians adhere to this thesis.1
(22) The theologians offer
many proofs of the first position [listed above], and we shall cite a few of
them which we recall. The first proof states that the motion of whatever moves
from one place to another must be finite [e.g., it cuts a surface or a line].
Since motion is not instantaneous [lit. qār al-dhāt]
no two parts of it can exist at the same time. Thus, while the motion is in
progress [lit. when it is between the initial and the terminal point], some
part of it persists, while another part has passed away, and what had passed
away and has not remained has no existence, since whatever has passed is gone
and whatever has remained [to come] has not yet been realized. Therefore, in
all cases there exists a part not receptive to division, because, if that
existing part would be receptive to division, [then] some [constituent of the
existing part] would be prior to other [of its constituents]. Now, whatever is
prior belongs to the past and is deprived of existence. Whatever is posterior
would not yet have been realized, since one cannot find two of its parts to be
co-present. It follows then that some of the parts which had been assumed to
exist, would, [in this line of reasoning,] be established not to exist; [but]
this is contradictory and refutable. Consequently, what exist of a motion
cannot be divided. And when this motion passes, whatever becomes realized, the
same rule applies to it. Thus, uninterrupted succession is a necessary feature
of motions; it means that motion is composed of indivisible parts, each
[existing] part dividing the distance covered [by the motion]. Otherwise [the
following situation holds: (i)] some of the sectors of motion do not dissect [a
sector of the spatial span], and other cases follow this principle; [(ii)]
thus, no part of the distance is covered during the entire motion. This is, of
course, impossible. [Thus, according to this first proof, it follows that] the
measure in question which is dissected by the part in question itself is not
receptive to division, because what is receptive to being divided into two
[halves] would remain divisible prior to the motion until the last [state of
division, as illustrated in the case of Zeno’s paradox.] Thus, the motion which
we had supposed to have been indivisible turned out to be in fact divisible.
Hence, a sector of this [distance] would be indivisible; that is the magnitude
of the atom[ic substance].
(23) The second proof [is as
follows]. Time exists, i.e., a temporal [unit] either has passed, or is
expected to come, or it is in the present [state]; and the past and what is
expected to come do not exist. Therefore, if [the present] state does not
exist, time does not exist.1 If it were divisible, some [sector of]
the past, future, or present would also be divisible. the [present] state,
however, is not divisible, and a portion of the body whose state the moving
[agent] affects must not be divisible. If it were divisible, then what happens
to its [first] half, would also happen to its terminal half. Hence, some part
of the present happens to the first half [of the body], and another part
happens to the second [half of the body]. Thus, the present is divisible. This,
however, has been refuted. Consequently, it has been proven that a portion of
the body exists without being divisible—that being the atom[ic substance]. This
proof is very much like the first proof.
(24) The third proof states that
if the existence of an atom were an impossibility, a body would be receptive to
having infinite parts.2 Thus, if a mover passes the body in question [the following paradox
appears]. It passes the first part prior to passing the second. Since the first part is divisible, it also passes its first part before it passes the succeeding parts [of the first part]. And one can
reason similarly regarding every part, each happening in a [distinct] temporal
[duration]. Thus, this mode of passage is applicable to all sectors of the body
[as shown by Zeno’s paradox]. Each is realized in a given [duration of] time.
Thus it necessitates infinite time to traverse the infinite parts before the
mover of the body in question [can act]. Such temporal series can never be
dissected. Thus any mover traversing a body can never reach the end of the
body. In fact, it can never traverse even one-tenth [lit. a
hundred-thousandths] of that body. This is an impossibility. Thus, body is not
capable of having an infinite number of parts. Thus, atom[ic substance] is a
reality.3
(25) The fourth proof
considers the possibility of a thing being capable of having infinite parts.
Each instant each of its elements has an equal measure, and any two measures
would have to be larger than either of the individual measures [constituting
the pair]. Therefore, one measure would correspond to infinitely many measures,
[since different measures can be imposed on the same extension]. It means that
the measure applied to the body in question would grow in multitude [which
means that the same extension can have an indefinite number of measurements
applied to it] in such a manner that it will be infinite. However, it is
impossible that a single measure would include infinite measures. Therefore, it
is impossible that a body be comprised of infinite parts.4
(26)
The fifth proof focuses on [another implication] of a body’s being capable of
having infinite parts. [Let us suppose also that] infinity does not increase
[in this case]. Whatever would be less [in magnitude] would not have been
infinite.1 Since being a quantity does not apply to the atom [i.e., to substances
which are qualitative concepts], [the mathematical mapping of] a ‘larger’
[domain] is not more extensive than [the measure of] ‘the lesser’ [actual
domain]. Thus it is possible to divide, [conceptually, even] a mustard [seed in
the same number of parts] as the earth. The [number of the] parts of the former
would be of [equivalent] measure to the [number of] the parts of the latter.
Thus [another] hideous argument is also refutable. Consider [the following
analysis]. Either in the division of the earth the measure of the mustard
[seed] is encompassed or it is not. The consideration that it is not so [i.e.,
it is not its subset] is an impossibility, because it is impossible to divide
an entity without reducing its size. If it applies to a measure of a mustard
seed, such a measure is divisible, since the mustard seed itself is divisible.
Thus, the number of divisions which applies to the earth is greater than the
division applied to the mustard seed. Otherwise, existence and non-existence of
those parts would be identical. Thus [it follows] again that both are finite,
and this [option] is refuted by the fourth reasoning. Therefore it is refuted
that body is divisible into an infinite number of parts.
(27) The sixth proof: If
body is in itself a composition of parts, then its composition is due either to
its essence, or an addition to its essence. If it were due to the essence
itself [that the body has this composition], then, when [this composition] is
destroyed, the body also would be destroyed. If [its composition] is an
addition to its essence, then [the composition] is a [feature] either necessary
or accidental to the essence. If it is a necessary feature, then the body could
never be divided, for it is impossible that a necessary feature be destroyed
while its inner essence exists. If, however, [the composition] is an accident,
then the body would not be composed in an essential manner; instead, its composition
would be an accidental feature. Since it would not be homogeneous [lit.
connected], then, as a divisible entity, a measure [could be applied to it].
Thus, the body itself will have many different parts, separated from one
another, and this [finding] is what we desire.
(28) The seventh proof
[focuses on the case of] a point exiting due to chance, when a line dissects
[another line or a surface], defining a point. Moreover, a point
is not divisible, for were it divisible, then it would not be a point. Thus it
is not void of being either a substance or an accident. If it is a substance,
then the desired result has been proven. If it is an accident, indeed it would
have a place [p]. This place [p] would be either divisible or indivisible. If
it is divisible, then the state of each of its parts would differ from [the
state] of any other part. Thus the divisibility of the place necessarily
implies the divisibility of the state of the body. Hence it would be divisible.
We assumed, however, that it would be indivisible. Thus, a contradiction
[arises]. Thus, if place were indivisible, the place would be either a
substance or an accident. If it were an accident, one could make an argument
about it along the lines of the argument concerning the point. [If however,] it
reaches the state which is a substance and is indivisible, this is the
conclusion sought.
(29) The eighth proof
focuses on the case of the sphere. An actual sphere necessarily cuts an actual
surface. Some [part] of the [spherical] body itself dissects a surface. That
part of the body which dissects a surface is either divisible or indivisible.
If divisible, then the circular surface is mapped onto the flat surface. This
condition, however, is necessarily impossible, because it implies that a sphere
is not a sphere, and a flat surface is not a flat surface. If it is
indivisible, then the body is indivisible, which we can designate as the atomic
substance. Suppose it is asserted that a sphere dissects a latitude, meaning a
point. Then we say that the same argument can be made concerning this point as
was made in the seventh proof. Thus it follows from all the proofs that atomic
substance exists.
(30) The ninth proof
considers the case of the sun shining on a flat surface and a body casting a
shadow on that surface. That which cuts the boundary between the shadow and the
sun light, forcing a distance between the sun[light] and the shadow, [this
distance] is divisible or indivisible. If it is divisible, then part of the
body would be neither illuminated nor shaded, and that is an impossibility,
since what is shaded is what is not contiguous with the sun, while what is
illuminated is contiguous with it. Thus the distance between the light and the
shadow is indivisible. Moreover, that subject in which the distance between the
sun[light] and the shadow exists is also indivisible, since the divisible limit
is, as stated, either an impossibility or [in fact] not divisible. Thus the
atomic substance is of the same measure, and that is what we sought to show.
(31) The tenth proof [is as
follows]: when a sphere dissects a flat surface, an angle results from the
perspective of the point of its dissection; such an angle is a [solid] body, as
it has a length, width, and depth. No more is required for constructing a body
in this situation. It has been established in geometry that it is impossible to
divide this angle by another surface or a line. Hence, the existence of an
indivisible body has been established by geometric deductions. All of the above
are the arguments of the theologians. Beside these, other reasons are offered
which at present we need not discuss. Those given are the strongest arguments;
philosophers object to these reasonings, while the
theologians rebut their objections. Criticism of these rebuttals is extensive
and quite satisfactory. The most distinguished of modern [scholars] has written
a text on this subject. The philosophers have proofs for their position, and we
enumerate ten arguments which they present.
(32) The first proof is by
Shaykh Abū ʿAlī Sīnā [Avicenna] who argues on this topic in the following way: [Let
us suppose the following]. If atomic substance were a possibility, ordinary
bodies would be composed of them. If a substance fell between two other
substances, either [i] it would not prevent them from being connected together,
such that they touch each other and from the concatenation of many [atomic]
substances with each other, a [single] body cannot result because its volume
does not exceed the volume of a single one; or, [ii] the [substance] between
[the other two] prevents their contiguity. Thus, whatever causes the contiguity
of one is different that which causes the contiguity of the other;
[consequently], this causes divisibility [within the substances].
(33) That second [proof,
points to] a millstone, rotating a substance which is next to a stone. When it
makes one revolution, the substance proximate to the spindle of a millstone
also rotates once. Thus, the extent of the motion of the substance on the
periphery would be the same as the substance proximate to the spindle. And that
is an impossibility.
(34) However, if it [the
substance proximate to the spindle] does not move at all, then the stone mill
must be torn apart. A thousand times each instant it is both separated and then
reconnected. This [situation] too is an impossibility. Thus, indeed, its motion
parallels the peripheral motion, until the substance at the periphery of the
connected body moves a distance equivalent to one substance. [Accordingly,
then,] the substance proximate to the spindle dissects a lesser amount, and
itself becomes divisible.
(35) The third proof: as the
sun rises over the earth’s surface, the shadow cast by a body becomes shorter.
When the sun increases in the measure of one substance, the shade moves
likewise. Thus, it must be that as the sun moves from east to west, the shadow
is also reduced [leaves the sky] by half; this, [however,] is impossible. Also,
if it does not move, it is impossible, since shadow prevents reflection, as has
been stated. Thus, it is impossible that the sun rises and reflects on another
element. If it moves less than the motion of the sunlight, less is taken away
from a substance [in this context of motion]. Thus the [so-called] atomic
substance [in fact is divisible].1
(36) The fourth proof
[maintains] that, if a surface is composed of dense atomic substances, and sun
falls on one of its sides, necessarily [this side] is illuminated. The other
side however, is not lit. Thus, what is lit is different from that which is not lit. Thus surfaces are divided in depth, making
necessary division of the body. This [reasoning] approximates the first
argument, which we have mentioned.
(37) The fifth proof
[states] that in geometry it has been established that from any point in the
circumference a line may be drawn to the centre of the circle. Thus if from
both sides of an atomic substance that was in the circumference of the circle,
two lines be drawn to the centre, necessarily the distance between the two
lines decreases as they move towards the centre. Since the atomic substance has
some measure and the distance between the two lines drawn to the centre becomes
less than that measure, the substance supposed to be atomic is in fact not
indivisible. The second and third arguments given above are derived from the
same principle.
(38) The sixth proof has
established in geometry that if we suppose any line, it can be divided into
halves. Thus if [i] a line consists of an odd number of atomic substances, and
[ii] this line is divided into two halves, then if [iii] the place of
dissection falls on the middle of two substances, it would not be a [proper]
dissection [into two halves]. If it falls in the middle of a substance, then
that substance becomes divisible.
(39) The seventh proof
[considers the following hypotheses]: [i] a line is constructed from atomic
substances, the number of [these substances] being even; [ii] two atomic
substances are connected with this line, one from below, the other from above. Each
of these two substances moves until it comes to the other side, one from one
direction, the other from the other direction. If they move in the same manner
such that the measure of the motion of each is the same, they will necessarily
pass each other. [At some point] they are parallel to one another. Both cannot
be both below and above a substance, for, if it were so, then it would be
necessary that the distance traversed by one substance would be shorter than
the distance traversed by the other substance. Thus each of these substances is
divisible from below and above due to running together and being contiguous to
the two substances on the line. If the number of the substances be odd, and
those two substances be directed towards a line, they move with equal motions
until they touch one another. They cannot be parallel to two corresponding
substances on the original line; otherwise, the motions [defined by the path of
the atomic substances] are not equal. Thus there is equality among the
substances; hence, both are divisible.
(40) The eighth proof states
that, if we suppose a square made of sixteen atomic substances, each side would
consist of four substances. The diagonal also consists of four substances. The
measure of the side, however, is less than the measure of the diagonal. Thus,
the four [substances] would be less than four substances. Thus the substances
of the diagonal could be divided as much as the substances of the side.
(41) The ninth proof [is
found] in the book of Euclid, and has been established by argument. [Consider]
a right angle and its diagonal. The square of each side which surrounds the
right angle would be a measure of the square of the diagonal. For
example, if we consider one side to be of three [units, lit. gaz], the other being of four [units], the diagonal would
be five [units]. I.e., [it would be] in this form ∕1. Thus, if a specific
measure is assigned to each side, such that both are equal, necessarily, the
substance falling on the diagonal would not be an indivisible unit. This
argument, in fact, approximates the eighth proof.
(42) The tenth proof
indicates that in the book of Euclid [the following] has been established. In
two squares of equal dimensions established between two parallel lines;
according to this pattern … both of these squares are equal to one another.
Thus, we consider a square consisting of sixteen atomic substances, such that
from each of its two sides two equal lines are drawn from east to west, on
which one will count sixteen substances. Necessarily, each substance which is
broken off from its length will be added to its width. These are proofs
concerning the existence of atomic substance. Numerous objections, however, can
be raised to these [arguments].
(43) When [the celebrated
theologian] Naẓẓām reviews both sides of the argument, both appear strong. He adopts a
position composed [of both theories]. He asserts that a body is composed of
atomic substances, but their number [i.e., atomic constituents of substances]
is not finite; the number of bodies, however, is finite. [This theory is
refuted by the following objections]. Suppose a body is composed of atomic
substances, but the number of atomic substances is not finite. But the body
itself is finite in measure. Assume a given finite number [which comprises the
number of elements in a given substance w], such that for any infinite number,
finite numbers are necessarily included in it, because a whole number is
composed of units. Then let us order these finite numbers. Quantitatively,
either this sum [i.e., the number of the units] is greater or is not greater in
its measure than the measure of a single substance. If it is not greater, then
the composed body is not one of these substances; if it is greater, then it
results in being a body [that has become a composite]; moreover, the relation
between that supposed body [x] and this supposed body [y] corresponds to the
relationship between the constituents of that body [x] and the constituents of
this body [y], because there is a correlation between the bodies and their
parts. However, [it turns out that] the correlation between [this] body and
another body is a relation between a finite and an infinite [set of
magnitudes], whereas the corresponding relationship between the constituents is
a relationship between a finite and [another] finite [magnitude]. It is
impossible, however, that the relation between [an ordered pair of <finite,
infinite>] be [isomorphic] with a relation between [a pair of <finite,
finite>]. This [counter instance] has been evaded. But since it is held that
in a body there are infinite constituents, how can there be a mover of this
body in a finite [duration]? To avoid these implications they hedge and
necessarily a hedge which avoids possible solutions is an unacceptable ploy.
These are the canons asserted [by the philosophers] on atomic substance. A
group of contemporaries such as Abu’l Ḥasan al-Baṣrī stands between this [set of] position[s] and
the doctrines mentioned previously. There is, however, no need to reflect about
the refutation of Naẓẓām’s position.
(44) [Consider the
following] point. Whatever is infinite, must be one of the following two types.
Either it has a position and an ordered structure or it lacks these. Each of
these two options is not without the following [two further subdivisions].
Their constituents either exist or do not exist at once as a unit.
Consequently, the group is subdivided into four kinds. First [kind applies to]
[i] whatever has a position, an ordered structure and that all of its constituents
exist at once. According to the insights of the followers of the intellectuals,
this is called [a vicious infinite] regress; all the philosophers and
theologians agree that the [existence] of such an [actual] infinite is an
impossibility. Muʿammar of the Muʿtazilite [theologians] accepted this doctrine in some form. The second
division [ii] is the infinite in which members all have a position and are in
an ordered structure, not all of the constituents of which co-exist
simultaneously. If there be an infinite in the direction of the past this is
the case of events not having a first member. This interpretation exists among
philosophers who assert that, prior to any generated event, there was another
event without there being an initial member [of the series]. The theologians
say, however, that this is an impossibility, asserting that there is a
generated event prior to which there was no other event. On [the doctrine] of
an infinite in the direction of the future—perchance the two [types of series]
are not only possible but actual. It is so, because of the case of the
inhabitants of heaven and hell for the theologians and events in the world
among the philosophers. Some theologians whose names I do not remember have
asserted that even this [doctrine] is an impossibility, and assert that all
things in the end are annihilated. The third subdivision [iii] is that for
which there is in the [infinite] neither position nor an ordered structure, all
of its constituents existing at once, such as intelligent souls according to
philosophers; while among the theologians this is refuted and is considered
impossible.
(45) The fourth position
[iv] is that for which [the infinite] has no position nor ordered structure,
and not all of whose constituents exist at once. Philosophers consider this
option a contingency, while the theologians consider it to be an impossibility.
(46) [Consider the
following] problem. According to both philosophers and theologians, it is not
possible that there be an infinite dimension, either in the vacuum, or in the
plenum. Indian [thinkers] assert that bodies in the universe are infinite. For
the refutation of their position and the correctness of the opposing view some
arguments have been stated.
(47) The first argument
[deals] with contiguity [lit. directionality] and isomorphism as follows. If
there were an infinite dimension, then it would be impossible for any motion to
occur in it. However, [we suppose that any dimension] allows motion. Thus, [the
notion of] an infinite dimension is an impossibility. The statement of the
initial premises of the argument is that, if an infinite dimension were a
contingency, then we can also assume [the following constructions: [i] an
infinite line AB, [ii] a circle JZD with a centre at H. If motion in it were
possible, then necessarily the [line which is the] diameter of this circle and
is parallel to the [aforementioned] infinite line, such as diameter JHD, by
being parallel either will or will not meet [the line]. If it does not meet the
line, then the sphere is not rotating. Hence, when it rotates, the diameter
also does; thus it will meet [the line]. Whenever the diameter by being
parallel to the infinite line is situated to meet the line, there must be the
first connection between them—because there was no connection and then there
was a connection. [Consider] any point as the beginning of the line of the
points of intersection; prior to that intersection there is another point. For
example, before D touches the line, Z does. Thus that connection which we conjectured
was not the first connection. Since there would be no first connection and at
first the line [of diameter] is parallel [to the infinite] line, there cannot
be any connection. This implies that the circular motion is an impossibility.
But the second option is evident. Thus the conclusion is true.
(48) The second argument
notes that, if infinite dimension were a possibility, two lines can be supposed
surrounding an angle, so that, for example, a unit [of gaz]
is separated from each side of a line with an inclination. Moreover, between
these two lines there is another unit [of gaz]. On
the lines AB and AJ, which are sides of the angle JAB, the distance between J
and A, A and B, and J and B would be the same. If the distance from H to Z is
two units [of gaz], from Z to H also would be two
units [of gaz], and in the manner previously stated.1
Consider these two lines as infinite, in the direction of H and Z. Thus if it
is possible that those two lines are infinite, then the distance between them
also would be infinite. However, it is enclosed between them, since whatever is
enclosed between two entities has a first and a last [member]. Thus it is not
infinite. Consequently, what we thought to be infinite turned out to be finite,
and our original assumption is shown to be false. Thus, infinite dimension is
impossible.
(49) Shaykh Abū ʿAlī Sīnā has expressed
this argument in another manner. He states that, if infinite dimensions are
possible, let us conjecture two lines which initiate from a given point and
become infinite in one direction such that, as they continue, the distance
between them increases [continuously]. As we assumed, each increase of one unit
[of gaz] in the sides corresponds to an increase of
one unit in the distance between the sides, and increase of two units in the
sides corresponds to an increase of two units in the distance between them.
Thus the first distance is embedded in the second and will be an addition to
it. [Likewise,] the second distance exists in the third as well as an addition
to it. If we assume the same logic for any further increase, the totality of
distances subsumed under it exists, and the additions exist as well. Thus if we
consider the two infinite lines, the increments in the dimension on the first
distance are infinite. Also from the increments which result due to [a
continuous series of dimensions] from the first dimension both are infinite in
their measure. If we consider the increments which exists in a distance, the
infinite increments do not exist in a dimension. If the infinite increments do
not exist in any dimension, then the corresponding constructed lines are finite
as they increase with [the corresponding dimension], as we assume that the
increments are subsumed in a dimension. We assumed them, however, to be both
not standing alone as well as to be infinite, and this is a contradiction.
Thus, there are dimensions in which the infinite increments exist, and this is
surrounded between two supposed lines; but this is impossible. Thus, infinite
dimension is impossible.
(50) The third argument:
suppose there is an infinite dimension, and let us assume an infinite line ABJ,
this line being infinite in both directions. Thus, let us assume a point A on
the line and another point lower than that, such as B, such that between these
two there is a measure AB, and this measure is finite. Since ABJ in the
direction of J is infinite, and BJ in the direction of J is not infinite,
either one can or cannot make these two lines congruent. If one cannot, then
they are not capable of being either equivalent or not equivalent. Hence, they
do not belong to the category of a quantity. Since the essence of a quantity is
to be receptive of equality or inequality, necessarily it follows that it is
not a line. However, we supposed it to be a line. Thus, their congruence is a
possibility. When they are [made] congruent, A falls on B, and line on line.
Thus, in the direction of J, they are either equal or unequal. It is impossible
that they be equal, since AJ, the measure of AB, exists, but it is not in the
line BJ. Thus, the existence and absence of AB are equivalent [with respect to
line BJ]. Since they are not equal, AJ is either larger or smaller than BJ. It
is impossible that AJ be smaller than BJ, since with respect to the direction
of J they are indifferent, while in the direction of AJ, there is AB, which is
not included in BJ; thus the [quantity with an] added [increment] would be less
than the [one with the] lesser [increment]. Thus AJ is greater, and thus BJ is
the lesser [of the two]. In this direction, it initiates from a single point.
Thus, in the direction of J [the line] is dissected. Hence it is finite. AJ,
which is bigger [that BJ] by the measure of AB is also finite; and this is
impossible. Thus, infinite dimension is an impossibility. It should be noted
that this argument could be used to refute circular arguments; instead of being
applied to ‘line’, it could applied to ‘numbers’. To this aforementioned
argument numerous objections have been raised, many responses being given, [an
account of] which is time-consuming.
(51) [Let us consider the
following] problem. Philosophers assert that any body which has neither weight
nor lightness, but is inclined towards a direction, is incapable of partaking
of motion. For, we suppose that a body without a propensity traverses a
distance—indeed, that motion happens in time. Thus, the body for which there is
an inclination towards another direction, traverses the same distance in
another temporal duration; indeed, the latter temporal duration is longer
because the inclination stagnates the motion of a body when it is in opposition
to the direction towards which it is inclined. Thus, the motion without an
obstacle is lighter than motion that has an obstacle. Any body which has less
propensity than the body in question necessarily will have a relatively lighter
motion and traverse the aforementioned distance in a shorter time. Thus, if we
suppose: the relationship between the propensity of one body and that of a
second body corresponds to the relationship between the time for the two bodies
to move; for example, if the first duration is a quarter of the second temporal
span, that propensity is also a quarter of this propensity, since that body
traverses the same distance. It traverses it in a time proportional to the time
which it takes the other body to traverse the same distance, the proportion
being the same as the proportion between the intensities of propensity of the
first and the second. Or, that time is equal to the time it takes a body to
traverse the distance without the body having a propensity to do so. Thus, the
body without a propensity and the body with a propensity traverse the distance
in the same time. Hence, a motion without impediment would be the same as a
motion with impediment. And this is impossible. Thus, the body without a
propensity cannot move.
(52) It should be known that
there is a mistake in this principle. Suppose we postulate a time for a body
which lacks a propensity. The totality of the time of the motion of a body with
propensity is not a direct proportion to the time of the motion of a body
without propensity. If it were so, then, as an inclination decreased, [time
would also decrease]. Instead, [the time it takes two bodies to traverse the
same distance is in inverse proportion to their relative propensities.]
According to this view, a body without propensity is not different from a body
with propensity. [Then the following state would be true if the proportion were
not inverse.] For example, suppose a body without a propensity traverses [a
distance] in two [units of] time. What is attributable to the propensity is no
more than eight [units] of time. If we consider a body whose propensity is
one-fifth that of the first, why should it traverse the distance in two [units]
of time, since it itself with respect to body per se [without a propensity]
traverses the distance in two units of time? for one-fifth of that propensity
[implies] five-eighths of time, added to two units of measure—and this
[assessment] would be correct [and this, of course, is absurd].1
(53) [Consider] the problem
of the proof of the Necessary Existent in the context of this debate. If there
were no necessity, then there would be no existent. There is an existent. Thus,
there is a necessary [entity]. [The presumed] option is that an existent [x] is
either a necessity or a contingency. It is not a contingency unless its
negation is [also a contingency].1 If that negation would be a necessity,
then the first option would apply, [so the negation of the negation, the entity
itself, would not be possible]. However, if it [*x] were a contingency, then it
would be either the primary contingency [i] or another contingency [ii]. The
first option [i] implies a circularity—which is an impossibility—because it
would be necessary for each to precede the other; thus it would precede itself.
The second [option [ii]] implies a continuous [regress,] and that is also an
impossibility. As its [x’s] contingency has been established, the conclusion
has been derived, since the aggregate of infinite contingencies [by themselves]
cannot exist unless each of its members exists—each being different from the
aggregate. The aggregate exists only if each of its units exists, each being
different from the aggregate. Whatever cannot be unless its negation also is
not [a contingent entity], is a contingency, and cannot exist unless its
negation also exists as a contingency. The contrary is either embedded in it,
or is external to it. The first option implies that the contrary is not unless
[its own] contrary does not exist. However, since it is the cause of the
aggregate, it is also the cause of the unit[s of that aggregate]; and if so,
then it would be the cause of itself, which is an impossibility. Hence, the
second option is correct, which states that the aggregate of contingencies
cannot be [realized] unless there is a necessity. If there were no necessity,
there would be neither a necessary nor a contingent [entity]. Thus [even if]
whatever exists is either necessary or contingent, it is necessary that, unless
there is a necessity, there is no existent. Since the exception to this is a
necessity, the result is correct—which is the conclusion we sought.
(54) The objection to this
logic is as follows. First, this argument is based on the negation of its
conclusion, so that a proof of the conclusion implies its invalidity. It
asserts that if there is a necessary [entity], then there is no necessary
entity. It is so, because, if there were a necessary [entity], the realm of
necessary existent[s] would be divided into existents which are necessary and
contingent. Otherwise, the division of existents into necessary and contingent
would be like the division between animal to man and inert entities.2
Since existence is common to necessary and contingent [beings], these
consequences follow. If in a necessary existent there were nothing except for
the reality of existence, and, reality of existence also applies to contingent
[existents,] then a contingency would be a necessity. If something is
necessary, it would be composed of existence and that factor; a composite is in
need of its constituents and is other than them. Thus the necessary [entity]
would be in need of another entity; thus it will not be a necessity. Thus if
there be a[n entity called a] necessity, [in fact,] it would not be a
necessity. This argument is refuted from the view that the premise begs [the
question that there be] a necessity, which is the conclusion of the argument.
Thus its conclusion is the cause of the unsoundness of this argument. If we
pass through this phase, we inquire on the meaning of ‘necessity’ used in the
argument, forming the basis of the argument. We assert that a necessity is
called that to which annihilation does not apply, while a contingency that to
which existence and privation relate equally [in the logical sense]. Or, the
necessary is that whose existence is due to itself, while contingency that
whose existence is due to another. Or, [it is possible to give other
descriptions of those two[modalities].
(55) In the first
interpretation of existence, the division of existents into necessary and
contingent is [not comprehensive,] [lit. empty of limit]. External to this
division there is an existent for which existence is a nobler [state than
non-existence], even though annihilation is applicable to it. If [all]
existents were also of this kind, why should there be a necessity such that to
that nobility existence is applied to it by an intervening factor without there
being a need of an external entity [to realize this necessity]?1
(56) In the second division
of existents, their existence is either due to itself or due to a different
entity. The latter case is true when the entity is acquired from that different
entity. Either it is due to its own essence or due to the essence of another
entity. It is understood ‘when one entity is due to another entity’, the former
is derived from the latter. If it is derived, then it is due to itself or due
to another. If it were due to itself, it must be prior to itself; if it were
due to another, it would be derived by privation. This is so, because the
contrary of existence is privation. From this perspective, in principle, the
proof becomes invalid. Since existence is not acquired, one cannot say that it
is either due to itself or something different. If there be another
interpretation, those two terms [existence, privation] must be expressed in a
manner allowing us to discuss them [in a clear fashion].
(57) [Consider the
following] inquiry. Let us consider another point and inquire why you asserted
that a contingency cannot exist without another [entity]. If you state that,
since existence and privation are identical [options] for it, preference for
one option [must be due] to a [determining] factor, we can reply that existence
is a preferable [option], as we have stated; [hence] there is no need [for a
determining factor.] We know that existence or privation has the same weight
for [contingencies]; the endorsement of one option [concerning whether or not
the entity should be realized] must be either due or not
due to a determining factor. A group of Muʿtazilite theologians say that a preference
without a cause of endorsement is not an impossibility, proving this doctrine
by formulating [the celebrated examples] of two jugs, two morsels of bread, and
the like. [In these cases, the principle that] ‘whenever there is a preference,
there must be an endorsement’ becomes difficult [to prove]. Thus, since in the
issuance of the created from the creator, the latter is temporally prior to the
former in an infinite duration of time—[this priority] being established in the
context of a determined set of events—there is a need to refer to a cause of
preference for an option. Otherwise, from a temporal perspective an ephemeral
[entity] becomes eternal. Thus the arguments on these two topics are
contradictory. If the contradiction is to be avoided, either we must accept the
eternity of the ephemerals or reject The Eternal Cause. Otherwise, since it is
permitted in one context that there be a preference without a cause of
preference, why cannot this also be permitted here, since in another context
one of the options of existence or privation is preferred without an
endorsement. We definitely established that the contingent needs another
entity. However, there is [also] an initial entity for it, or is has no initial
entity. The first is evident; the second is impossible. Why is it not
permissible that the contingent be eternal and be the cause of events such as
[it is stated in the] foundations, books, and the like? Thus contingencies are
in need of a cause. If you say that existence is more worthy for a
[contingency, i.e., it is better to be than not to be], whereas we took
existence and privation to be [ontically] equivalent, we answer that, if its
existence is noble, its privation is [even] nobler. The necessary [factors] are
necessary at all options; [thus] we consider the relations [of] both [options
to the contingency in question] to be equal, even though neither of the two
options is empty of nobility. So, if its annihilation is not harmful, neither
is its realization. We know for certain that a contingent [entity] cannot be
without another [entity]. Why do you say that circular [reasoning] is
impossible [and applies to this case]?1 As we have stated,
each is prior to the other. By this priority, do you mean priority with respect
to essence, or with respect to time? It is definite that two entities cannot be
prior to one another with respect to time.
(58) And why would you say
that, if any two entities were to affect one another, that [they would also] be
prior to one another? The effect, however, has been realized and cannot be
united [as one entity with both the cause and the agent responsible for the
cause]. Since effect is in the [category of] relation and obtains between two
existents, it cannot obtain between an existent and an entity deprived of
existence. Thus, the [entity which is an] agent [of a cause] cannot be
[considered] a cause prior to [the realization of] the effect. With respect to
the state of an effect, unless there be a cause, the effect is not realized. If
there is an effect, there cannot be priority. Subsequently, it will be shown
why an effect cannot [originate] from both directions.
(59) If you wish to
[consider] priority with respect to essence, its meaning of priority to essence
is that the initial [and the eternal] is the cause of the later. Thus, saying
that, if each affects the other, each is prior to the other, and this means
that they affect one another—each is the cause of the other. Indeed, [any
entity] is such [that its constituents are interdependent]. Thus, what
difficulty [lit. corruption] is implied by [this sense of] priority? If you
wish to consider another [sense of] priority, it must be clarified so we can
discuss it. [Lest we be misunderstood, we should say that] we do not doubt that
circular [reasoning is invalid]. Why do you assert that [infinite] regress is
also an impossibility? If we wish to show regress, we say we reason by way of
omission; we say that there is no way out of deducing [some type of] regress.
It is so, since there must be a cause for events, this cause being either
generated or eternal. If [this cause] would apply to it, implying that there is
a regress until an eternal is reached. That is the second division which
implies that the cause is eternal. Thus its effect either depends or does not
depend on a condition. If it is not dependent, the generated-ephemerals are
eternal. The posteriority of the events to the eternal cause is invariant
either in eternity or in a specific time—it implies an endorsement without
there being a (cause of) a preference, and that is an impossibility. But if it
is dependent [on a condition], and that dependency is conditioned on an eternal
(factor), then the same implications occur. If it is generated, then the
discourse about what is generated would apply to it. [In fact, our case has
been proven.] In the light of these considerations, why do you say that with
respect to contingencies [your conclusion has been reached?] You say that the
aggregate of contingencies is infinite, but how can we call the infinite an
aggregate? Though aggregate can be ascribed only to the finite, this condition
which is peculiar to it is here ascribed to the infinite. This reason begs the
question.
(60) We hold indubitably
that there could be an aggregate in an infinity; [there are two possibilities],
either an absolute [i.e., actual] infinite, or when each [of the elements,
potentially] exists. The first option is impossible; the second is necessary.
In this case it is necessary that not all of the contingencies are realized. On
the contrary, it is impossible that all contingent [entities] exist. And why is
this type of regress prohibited? In this case each entity has a cause prior [to
it], so that when an effect is realized in it [i.e., the cause] is annihilated.
This [reasoning,] however, is absolute ignorance, since it equates [lit., sums
up] the annihilated with the existent. We are certain that it is definitely
meaningful to talk about aggregates. An aggregate, however, is in need of
another entity when the aggregate either is or is not due to a condition
additional to a mere unity. The first is certain; the second is prohibited.
For, if it were an additional [factor], then it would not have been in need of
another entity. When a factor is additional, then [its state persists] either
[according to the mode of being a] unity, or without [being a] unity. The first
[option] is certain; the second is prohibited. It is so, because when unity is
realized, and the cause of the aggregate has disappeared, it would be necessary
that the constituents be realized fully while the aggregate [itself] would not
exist; this [condition] is an impossibility. But from the factor that it is in
need of unity, no more is required [of the aggregate] than that it [does not persists
along] with each one of its members. Whence, circular [reasoning] is implied
[either in the position] that there be only one [static state] of the
aggregate, or that it be the cause of its [own] existence. Between these two
options, the difference is apparent: the first dependency is due to the
totality itself, while the second dependency is due to the dependency of the
effect on a cause. … And it is not implied from another entity that there be a
cause for the aggregate outside of unity.1 We are certain that
this reasoning [by itself] establishes the necessity [of a being]. We argue,
however, based on another reasoning which negates the necessity [argued for
above.] We say that if there be a necessary existent, its existence is either
identical to it, or a factor additional to it. If it is identical to it, then
we say that there is no difference between saying that ‘an existent is
necessary’ and ‘a necessity is necessary’. It follows necessarily that the
first does not need a proof, because the second does not. For instance, it is
sufficient to assert that, if a necessity is necessary, then that necessity
exists, since the meaning of [being] a necessity is that it exists. If there
were an additional [factor], then between them there is or is not a dependency.
The former option is impossible, for if the necessity were required for
existence, then all existents would be necessary, and the ephemeral [contingent
events] would also have been necessary. If existence needed necessity, then it
would depend on it and necessity would be a property of existence and thus
would depend on it. Thus circularity would result. The second option is not
possible, because, since there is no necessity, the necessity of the existence
of the necessary [entity] would be an accident as it can [conceivably] exist
without being a necessity. Thus that which in reality is a contingency, and
necessity is its property, is [itself] a contingency. Thus what we supposed to
be necessary becomes a contingency. Since all [modal] categories become void,
we proved that no necessity is a contingency. And we are victorious [in our
arguments] due to God. The answer to what you said is that the argument itself
is self-contradictory and implies its own refutation. We say that this argument
is informative for the premises of the conclusion of our proof, which is
clarified after the reply. You say that, if there is a necessary [entity], then
it is required that there be no necessary [entity]. We say that this
requirement is impossible. You say that it [i.e., the realm of existents]
includes [all beings]. We say that the true position is that [the realm of]
existents does not include all [logically possible entities], but the existence
of each entity is the reality of its inner essence.
(61) You say that the
[logical] division implies a common factor. We say that a mental common
[factor] is sufficient. Even if the division of beings into substance and
accident is correct, [the realm of] being does share a common factor by mere chance.
We are sure from the disputation that existence is common. It is not, however,
necessary that whatever is correct for the necessary existent is also correct
for the contingent. Thus, the basis of distinction between the necessary and
the contingent types of existence is that [the actuality of the] necessary
existent is established by proof by way of negation. And that proof is that
accident is not a being, and a contingent existent is an accident of being.
Thus, whatever you say of absolute existence holds for both divisions [of
being].
(62) Absolute existence,
however, is mind-dependent and is not in the external [world]. Whatever you say
about the necessary existent, it is a condition [or a mode] relating to
necessity. There is no need for it also to apply to contingent being, since
necessary existence is contrary to contingent existence, even though it shares
its principles.
(63) You say if there be
another entity with existence, then the necessity would be a composite, and
thus a contingency. We say that we hold definitely in disputation that
necessity has a being external to existence. But, why should this imply that it
is a contingency? In the description of their being, necessity and its
existence are in need of one another. But neither is a contingency. It is so,
since existence is a necessity, and it is not correct to describe being without
either a contingency of existence or necessity. Thus there is but one entity,
while compositeness is mental and from it contingencies are not realized. If
one refers to the mental [realm], but has no correspondence to the external
world, then it is false. We assert [that it is so,] either in concepts or
deductions. The first is prohibited [by logic], the second is correct. The
mistake itself is in the divisions of deductions, according to which, unless
there is a factor, there is no path [of validity of the argument related to
it.] The differences in the understanding of the realities of mind cannot be
the cause of the [corresponding designation] in the external [realm], and is
not ignorance.
(64) You say that we inquire
about the meaning of necessity and contingency. We say that necessity is an
existence which does not depend on another [entity] for its existence. This
division is refuted.
(65) You say that the
existence of the contingencies is nobler, and, consequently, privation [i.e.
not being an existent] does not intervene in it. We say that this is
impossible, since with the worthiness of existence the unanticipated
[application] of existence either is or is not contingent. If it is, then that
preference is insufficient; but what has been endorsed [must have been]
preferred; thus [this reasoning implies] an impossibility. If it is not a
contingency, that existent is a necessity, not a contingency.
(66) You say that existence
is due to itself or some other entity; [the latter can be stated] when [its
actuality] has been acquired. We say that the aim of saying that existence is
due to itself is to indicate that something exists due to itself without the
support from another [being,] as mentioned above.
(67) But the reason that you
stated that existence is not acquired from another being, if it is proven,
confirms our discourse. And from that perspective necessity and being are
divisions of existence.
(68) You say, why cannot the
contingent exist without [the support] of another? We say because it is
included in the meaning of the contingent being [to be supported by another].
You say existence is superior and is not in need of [postulating] a preferring
[agent]. We have given our position on this before.
(69) You say that the Muʿtazilah endorse [the
position that there can be] a preference without a preferring [agent]. We say
they have asserted that the free agent is present, and free will for one of the
options is necessary. It is not the case that in principle existence and
privation are equivalent without a cause, and between these two forms there is
an apparent difference. For this discourse is about the inner [reality] of the
cause, and there is equivalence between [the choice of] existence or privation;
existence [per se] does not [cause realization] of an existent. If the maker does
choose one (option), then the other option is not necessary.
(70) You say that what is
difficult for you is the generation of the ephemeral from the generated in the
established temporal order; we say that it [i.e., this proposal] is easier for
us [to accept].
(71) You say that
[postulating] the posteriority of one span of time to another span of time
involves preference without a preferring [agent]. We assert that precedence [of
the existence of the preferring agent to the realization of the preference] is
necessary and simultaneity [among them is] an impossibility, since the action
of the free agent cannot be eternal. It is so, because it obeys the initiator,
and the initiator can function only if there be a privation [factor]. However,
the superiority of one time to another time, that the establishment and proof
of preference with a cause of preference are all derived from [empty]
imagination [lit., prehension]; and there is no basis for such [theses] as that
there be absolute negation [in order that] an existent be realized.
(72) You say that this
creates a contradiction. We say that preference without a preferring [agent] is
an impossibility among us, and that no contradiction occurs in [our argument].
With the assistance of God, we are not in need of resorting to a contradiction
[to establish our proof].
(73) You say that the
contingent is in need of another, when there is or there is or there is no
initiator for it. We say that both options could be established.
(74) You say that the cause
of dependence is the status of being generated. We say that the cause of
dependence is contingency, not generated entities, since being generated is the
quality of existence of the generated entities. Thus, it is posterior to the
existence of the generated entities, since the attribute is posterior to the
entity [to which the attribute applies]. The existence of a generated [entity]
is posterior to the effect of its maker. The effect of the generated entities
from the perspective of the contingent is posterior to [such an] effect. The
dependency of the contingent is posterior to its cause. Thus, if the generated
entities were the cause of dependency, they would be posterior to themselves on
several levels, and that is impossible. Thus, the cause of dependency is
contingency, and whatever is a contingency, in the totality of its existence,
is in need of a causal agent until it is realized [in an initial] state, and
other times [it can persist despite] the negation of the existence [of its
cause].
(75) You say that those
requirements are necessary, so you can consider equivalent the relationship
between [being an] existent and [having] privation with respect to the
contingent [type of entity], which is always one of these [alternatives]. We
say that the relation of existence or privation to the essence of [a]
contingent entity from the perspective that establishes it apart from the
consideration of any other entity is equivalent. However, the [positive]
consideration of the realization of existence is [a] superior [choice] and,
since it is a contingency, the [positive] consideration of a privation of the
cause of privation is [also a] superior [choice].
(76) You ask why [we] say
that this circularity is impossible. We say because the priority of its
elements to one another is impossible. You ask what ‘priority’ we are
considering. We say we are considering the priority of some of the parts of
time to others, and the priority of agent to patient.
(77) You say that the agent
and the patient are together. We say, [consider the possibility] that the
effect either follows or does not follow the agent. The first is prohibited [by
logic]; the second is required. The existence of an agent of the second kind is
not required in the [realm] external to [the mind]. According to the correct
position, [any] patient, among the [various] existents in the universe, is
[itself] either free or determined. [Nevertheless] each patient follows its
[cause, lit. agent].
(78) You say that the effect
is an additional factor. We say that additional factors do not exist in [the
realm] external [to the mind]. If an effect had an existence, then in it there
would be another effect and this leads to a[n infinite] regress. You ask, why
can it not be that the effect is due to both options, since priority from both
perspectives has been found to be impossible?
(79) You say that the
meaning of the priority due to essence is causality. We say that the meaning of
priority due to essence is that the existence of the patient is due to the
existence of the agent, while the existence of the cause is not due to the
existence of the effect. If it were so, a circularity would arise. You say that
regress is an impossibility; we say it is due to a reason and this reason is
well known. Due to the fact that it is well known, we will not present it.
(80) You say that our
reasons are [in fact] evasion. But, [we say that] doubts cannot be raised
[concerning the correctness of our position].1
(81) You say that there must
be a cause for the generated entity, which is either eternal or generated. We
say that it is eternal.
(82) You say that its
effects either depend or do not depend on a condition. We say that the
dependence is on the producer and it is impossible that it [the effect] be
simultaneous with the producer.
(83) You say that the
[doctrine that first generated, lit. posterior] events are simultaneous with
[eternal] time [implies the occurrence of] preference without a preferring
[agent].1 We say that time is a generated entity and that there are no temporal
[sectors] in eternity. The discourse focuses on preference; thus regress is
implied by all descriptions. We say that regress is one account, while [the
doctrine of postulating] generated [entities] without the first [initiator] is
a different account. You argue for the case of regress. Our aim in this chapter
is to [point out] that from these considerations a doubt results about [the
doctrine of] the generated entities.
(84) You ask how one can
call the infinite an aggregate? We say that, since it has number, [this number]
must be finite or infinite. It [also] has an aggregate, this being the number
of all of its units. If the aggregate were finite, then an infinite aggregate
would be a contradiction. The finite collection [is not the same as an infinite
aggregate].2 If we wish to avoid using the term ‘aggregate’, and say [instead] that
[the notion of] an ‘infinite series of contingencies’ is not a [legitimate]
possibility [lit. a contingency], then our reasoning is not syntactical but due
to meaning.
(85) You say that in this
case it is not necessary that these members exist simultaneously. We say that
it is necessary, since the cause of dependency is a contingency, so the
contingent has an existent cause. Discourses on cause [follow the dual division
of being, lit. the second case];3 either it leads to a necessity or to
the infinite contingents which exist simultaneously.
(86) You say that each
[generated event] has a cause anterior [to it]. We say that this discourse
depends on the view that the cause of dependency is generated—and this is what
we have refuted. You say that the collection would be dependent on another
entity whenever there either is or is not a factor additional to unity.4
We say it is [dependent] when it [being a factor additional to unity], holds
[to be true, lit. exists].
(87) You say that it [i.e.,
posterior contingency] is in need of units or non-units. We reply [that it
depends] on the sum of units.
(88) You say that
contingency is not necessitated either by dependency on a contingent unit, or
upon the contingency of dependency on a cause.
(89)
You say that our argument depend on reasoning that negates [the significance or
legitimacy] of necessity. We concur that [this reasoning] cannot be done.
(90) You say that the
necessary determinate either exists or it is an additional [factor to
existence]. We say that when it [is,] it is either in a negative or affirmative
[mode]. The first is prohibited [by logic], the second is correct. But negative
necessity relates to the prevention of privation. If it is an existent, it is
only mental, and that is [merely the verbal] confirmation of the existence [of
an entity].
(91) You say that the
distinction between [the constituents of] necessity is necessary, as well as
that distinction between [the previous statement and the fact that] necessity
is a unity. [We say] that unity is not an additional [factor].1
(92) You say that if
necessity were required for existence, then [all] existents would be necessary.
We say that necessarily existence is either absolute or determined. The first
is definitely the case; the second is prohibited [by logic]. But the absolute
existent does not reside external [to the mind] and only is in the mind. If
there were necessity for a determinate existent, it would not be that necessity
[which will realize it as an existent]; what is necessary [instead] is another
entity. You say if necessity would not be required, then necessity would be accidental.
We say that it is additional only when existence and necessity exist as
realities external [to the mind], necessary due to it and a composite from that
perspective [i.e., mental perspective]. And this argument [of yours] has been
refuted, as we have indicated.
(93) You say that, since all
distinctions have been refuted, it is proven that the necessity does not exist.
We reply that distinctions [of existents] are not limited. For if existents
[could be derived by] the negation [of modalities], then [they would be
external] to these divisions. This [requirement to accept] limits due to
privation is not necessary [in our account of existents]. And Virtue is with
God, and Victory.
1. Ṭūsī’s use of the expression buʿd which we translate as ‘extension’
[and it could also be translated as ‘distance’] is ambiguous here. The text
specifies the classification as follows: first it belongs to those entities
which are not in need of extension, or which consist of sensibles, which in the
Peripatetic tradition are explained by discrete measure; and second those which
are in need of an extended substance. The latter are intentional, mental, and
psychological entities and predicates, such as pain, grief, and life. In order
for these accidents to be realized, they have to reside in an extended entity.
2. For example, a musical duet
is formed without anything perishing.
3. In the case of lust, the
self is the beneficiary of the desire, whereas in the case of will the object
with which one is concerned may have no effect on the subject.
1. See the position of the Theatetus (201C-210B) that knowledge is belief plus an
explanation.
2. The term wahm
here is translated as ‘prehension’, see, P. Morewedge, ‘The Internal Sense of
Prehension (Wahm) in Islamic Philosophy’, in James T.
H. Martin, ed., Philosophies of Being and Mind: Ancient and
Medieval (New York, 1991), pp. 182–216.
3. This is not a logical
division.
1. Ṭūsī presupposes but does not mention
this third class.
1. The text is not clear about
whether (a) each part is infinitely divisible, or (b) there is an infinite
number of indivisible elements. Logically, there is a third possibility,
combining (a) and (b), that a body is made up of an infinite number of
infinitely divisible parts.
1. Ṭūsī makes a distinction between an
analytic, or a syntactical division, which may be infinite due to a postulated
definition, and an ontic sense of divisibility as that an actual entity. The
latter is never infinite, since each state of its division consists of a finite
number of divided parts. Therefore, there are two realms of being, a
mathematical, analytical realm, and the realm of actual entities, which,
following Aristotle’s rejection of an actual infinite, must be finite.
1. In actuality, to be concrete
is to contain, in addition to a mere temporal passage, a non-temporal state or
condition.
2. The text is ambiguous here,
for infinity may refer either to (a) the number of parts of the body, or (b) to
the parts themselves being infinitely divisible, or (c) to both (a) and (b).
But the subsequent passage clarifies that Ṭūsī means interpretation (a).
3. Ṭūsī’s main discussion applies not
only to atomic ‘physical’ substances, but any ‘atomism’, including an
occasionalism which might have been held by the theologians by whom reality is
seen to consist of ‘occasions’ caused by God, without any natural causation.
4. Ṭūsī’s argument is ambiguous here. It
may be based on the incorrect assumption that there cannot be an aggregate of
infinite simples. Ṭūsī is correct if he holds that different infinite measure,
such as the number of odd and even numbers equal the number of natural numbers.
However, it is not correct to say that the natural numbers do not have infinite
subsets. His mistake is that he applies the law which holds for finite
arithmetic (that the sum of two positive numbers is greater than each of them)
to the realm of transfinite numbers, for which the aforementioned law does not
hold.
1. Ṭūsī considers the minimal infinite
quantity such that if a unit of it is removed the quantity is no longer
infinite. This is based on the mistaken view that an aggregate of finites leads
to an infinite extension. Ṭūsī does not explicitly state this
view, but it is implied in his reasoning that the supporters of the doctrine of
atomic substance may have held such a view.
1. In all of the arguments
offered by the philosopher, there is an incompatibility between a discrete
measure of one whole supposedly indivisible substance and numerous mappings of
its segments onto what is shown to be a continuum.
1. The last phrase of the
Persian text is mistakenly repeated.
1. Evidently, the manuscript is
corrupt in this paragraph. It begins by describing an absurdity and terminates
with an elliptical passage that makes an unsound argument. Our editorial
suggestions accord with the fact that a body with propensity travels faster
than a body without propensity.
1. For instance, a two-eared
human being is a contingency because there could have been a world in which a
person would have three ears. However, there is no possible world in which the
number of a person’s ears would be both odd and even.
2. The division of animals to
men and inert entities is not correct. Either Ṭūsī wishes to point out that
existents should not be divided into necessary and contingent or the text is
corrupt in this passage.
1. It appears that Ṭūsī makes a distinction
between an entity external to a substance, such as another substance, and a law
or principle which is applied to substance. The distinction could be formulated
as follows: while a substantial entity may persist without being related to any
another substance, the complete description of a law is reducible to the set of
all possible arrangements of substances to which the law applies. Thus, a law
extensionally is a mere logical construct of other primary metaphysical
entities.
1. Ṭūsī seems to say that, if one says a
contingency has an intermediate cause, then an infinite regress follows. His
solution is syntactical. The meaning of ‘contingency’ implies that it depends
on a different entity.
1. The Persian text seems to be
missing a sentence at this point. No space is allowed before the sentence; the
sentence also begins with ‘and’ [wa].
1. The text is ambiguous here,
for ‘doubts cannot be raised’ could refer either to the position of Ṭūsī or that of his critics.
We interpret the text as follows: Ṭūsī’s argument is syntactical; for
him ‘contingency’ implies the existence of a predecessor. Since the reasoning
is an analytical and purely syntactical one, no legitimate doubt can be raised
about its validity.
1. The text is ambiguous here,
as it does not clarify Ṭūsī’s temporal reference. Our
interpretation is supported by the following sentence which makes clear that
for Ṭūsī
time is generated.
2. The text must be corrupt
because it reads literally ‘does not repeat and is not as such.’
3. The reference to the second
case is unclear because no cases have been enumerated. Perhaps the text is
corrupt.
4. An alternative reading is:
‘whenever a factor additional to unity or it [the collection] does not exist.’
There is no basis in the text for deciding between these two translations.
1. It is not clear whether the
position that unity is not an additional factor to existence and modality
should be attributed to Ṭūsī or to his opponent. The argument
turns on possible syntactical metaphysical and ontic aspects of ‘necessary
existent’: the modality of necessity, the mode of being realized as an
existent, and the postulation that it is a unity.
Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī
Very
little is known about the life of Afḍal al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Ḥasan Kāshānī, commonly known as ‘Bābā Afḍal’. In the Persianate world the term
‘Bābā’, which literally means ‘father’, is often used to refer to a Sufi
master. We know that he was a contemporary of such figures as Shihāb al-Dīn
Suhrawardī, Ibn Rushd, and Ibn ʿArabī. Bābā Afḍal died around 610/1213 and is buried in Maraq, a mountain village
north of Kāshān. While the date of his birth is not known, in one of his
letters he mentions that he has been on an intellectual journey for sixty
years; so it is safe to assume that he was born in the earlier part of the
sixth/twelfth century.
It is said that he was
related to Ṭūsī, who refers to Bābā Afḍal in his commentary on the Ishārāt in a
matter pertaining to logic. Given the date of Bābā Afḍal’s death, such a relationship is unlikely
unless he was a relative but belonging to an earlier generation. It is also
said that he may have been an Ismaili, but there is no evidence to support this
and Bābā Afḍal himself tells us that Sunni Islam is the best of ways.
Not much is known about his
students, but he refers to them as his ‘religious brothers’ (barādarān-i dīnī) and ‘true companions’ (yārān-i ḥaqīqī). Such a
description implies more than students; so perhaps they were his spiritual
companions or a group of initiated Sufis. What strengthens this view is that he
was asked by Muḥammad Dizwākush, a fellow companion, to compose a book on the
principles of spirituality which he wrote in Arabic and entitled Madārij al-kamāl (The Rungs of Perfection). In the
conclusion to this work Bābā Afḍal tells us that another companion, Asʿad Nasāʾī, asked him to translate this work into
Persian so others might comprehend the meanings of this book. This is a clear
indication that these companions were not learned scholars, for if they were
they would have surely known Arabic. It appears that this group did not have
much formal training in philosophy and that leaves us with the strong
possibility that the companions may have been a group of practising Sufis.
Bābā Afḍal was part of the
emerging intellectual endeavour, in the sixth/ twelfth century, to bring about
a rapprochement between philosophy and Sufism. Like Suhrawardī,
ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
Hamadānī and Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, Bābā Afḍal also used philosophical and logical terminologies to comment on such
Sufi themes as the nature of self-knowledge and consciousness. Ironically, Bābā
Afḍal
does not mention the works of other Islamic philosophers. In fact, with the
exception of Aristotle and Hermes, he does not mention any other philosopher.
Furthermore, he does not discuss many of the traditional philosophical
questions, such as the Necessary Being and the proofs concerning its existence.
Nor does he write about other branches of science such as astronomy,
mathematics, and medicine. Although he does write about logic and political
philosophy, he is singularly interested in analysing one problem above all else
and that is the nature of the self. What constitutes the identity of a human
being is intelligence, which Bābā Afḍal refers to both as khirad, Persian for
intellect, and ʿaql, the Arabic for the
same concept. The salient feature of Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī’s thought is his emphasis upon the science of the
soul and spirit, or pneumatology, which one could also understand as autology,
not to be mistaken for Aristotle’s De Anima, the
psychology of Islamic Peripatetics, or the modern discipline of psychology.
Although his analyses are at times Peripatetic, such analyses take place within
the context of a Sufi perspective. In its journey, the soul moves towards
perfection, whereby it experiences states and stations of wisdom leading to the
annihilation of the self in God (fanāʾ fi’Llāh).
Bābā Afḍal develops an
epistemology that becomes central in the School of Isfahan; that is, knowing
implies a unity between knowledge, the knower, the known and an epistemic unity
between the subject and the object. Knowing therefore necessitates becoming one
with the object of knowledge. In the case of knowing God and the realities of
the spiritual world, a mode of knowledge becomes a mode of being. The doctrine
of the unity between the intellect and the intelligible (ittiḥād al-ʿāqil
wa’l-maʿqūl) is an
epistemological doctrine that became fully developed later by the masters of
the School of Isfahan, finally reaching its zenith in the teachings of Mullā Ṣadrā.
According to Bābā Afḍal, there are three types
of knowledge: that of this world (dunyā), that of the
other world (ākhirah), and finally the world of
thought (andīshah), which bridges the two. Each
branch of knowledge is subsequently subdivided. The knowledge of this world rests
upon the primary functions of the human being, such functions as speech and
communication, which relate man to this world. The world of pure thought is an
intermediary between the corporeal and the incorporeal world. Logic is
emphasized as a tool to make clear the intricacies of the spiritual and the
intellectual world within the matrix of his thought. Knowledge of the other
world, which Bābā Afḍal calls ‘horizons and souls’ (āfāq wa anfus),
can be obtained even in this world and leaves imprints upon the soul which
survive the death of the body.
Bābā Afḍal posits the existence
of a relationship between ontology and autology (self-knowledge). Intelligence,
he argues, is a manifestation of Divine Light, so that knowledge
participates in the Divine, while logic and other means of cognition are
reflections of the Divine Intellect upon the human mind.
Like the three types of
knowledge, Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī considers there to be three separate worlds: the
Divine world (rubūbiyyaḥ), the intermediate world (malakūt), and the world of nature, whose realities are
reflections of the other two worlds. What is interesting is that Bābā Afḍal’s hierarchy involves
not only a purely ontological hierarchical scheme of ‘space’, but also concerns
time. In this regard he distinguishes between zamān, dahr,
wujūd and huwiyyah, the latter being the
underlying principle of all things.
Philosophy, for Bābā Afḍal, is not an abstract
intellectual exercise, but a spiritual practice aimed at awakening people from
forgetfulness. The central goal of philosophy is to aid one to know oneself, as
the Prophetic ḥadīth says, ‘He who
knows himself knows his Lord’. Bābā Afḍal not only wrote on the soul, but also translated into Persian four
texts dealing with the concept of the soul. The first two are by Aristotle,
dealing directly with the study of the soul, while the other two, the
Neoplatonic Liber de pomo and De
Castigatione animae, also pertain to the nature of the soul. In his
exhaustive reflections on the soul, Bābā Afḍal uses various sources such as Aristotle,
Plato, Neoplatonism and Hermetic writings as well as Islamic sources.
One of the more unique
aspects of Bābā Afḍal’s work is the fact that he wrote almost entirely in Persian and not
Arabic, the traditional scholarly language in which Persians wrote most of
their philosophical texts. In this regard, he followed Nāṣir Khusraw and
Suhrawardī, both of whom have a substantial body of philosophical works in
Persian. This fact necessitated that Bābā Afḍal further develop a technical philosophical
vocabulary in Persian, in particular in logic where he made some original
contributions. Bābā Afḍal’s views on qiyās-i khulf or syllogism per impossible, were significant enough that Nāṣir al-Dīn Ṭūsī in his Sharḥ al-ishārāt, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī in his Sharḥ ḥikmat al-ishrāq, and
finally Mullā Sadrā in his Ḥāshiyah upon Quṭb al-Dīn’s commentary on Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq, have discussed it.
Finally, something has to be
said about Bābā Afḍal’s poetry, since to most people in Iran he is known as a poet. He is
unquestionably one of the great masters of Persian poetry especially among
philosophers and his quatrains rank with those of such poets as Abū Saʿīd and Khayyām. These
highly philosophical poems speak of certainty and contain many metaphysical
doctrines within them. It is said that the following poetic exchange took place
between Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭusī and Bābā Afḍal with regard to the problem of theodicy. Ṭūsī wrote:
A cup whose parts have been moulded together,
Even a drunkard would not
consider it right to break.
Those
lovely hands, feet and wrists,
Why were they created and
why destroyed?1
Bābā Afḍal responded:
When the pearl of the soul became united with the shell of the body
Through the water of life it
gained human form.
When the pearl became
formed, it broke the shell
And came to embellish the
corner of the headwear of the king.2
In this chapter we have
included a section of Bābā Afḍal’s collected works, Muṣannafāt (Compositions). It begins with a discussion concerning how awareness
concerning the self is obtained and continues with a thorough examination of
different types of existence and existents. The discussion continues with such
topics as knowledge and self-awareness, reminiscent of Suhrawardī’s theory of
‘knowledge by presence’, culminating with a consideration of what constitutes
the reality of a human being. The chapter ends with a discussion concerning an
array of such traditional philosophical problems as subjects and predicates,
attributes, genus, species, and some of the Aristotelian categories.
M. Aminrazavi
1. This quatrain is also
attributed to ʿUmār Khayyām.
2. Translation by Seyyed
Hossein Nasr, in his The Islamic Intellectual Tradition in
Persia, ed. M. Aminrazavi (London, 1996), p. 202.
Muṣannafāt
Reprinted from Afḍal al- Dīn Kāshānī, Muṣannafāt, tr. William C.
Chittick, in his The Heart of Islamic Philosophy: The Quest
for Self-Knowledge in the Teachings of Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī (Oxford-New York, 2001), pp. 272–306 and Selected Poems.
The Book of the Road’s End
To God belongs praise—He who is worthy of
praise, its patron, its utmost end, and its beginning—a praise that parallels
His blessings and beneficence and makes manifest His generous giving and favour.
And upon His prophet Muḥammad be prayers and peace, and upon his household and his noble
companions.
Thus says the author of
these words and the clarifier and stipulator of these meanings of the sciences:
A group of true companions
and religious brothers requested that I write a book, the reading and the
understanding of the meanings of which would allow them to become aware of
three things: [1] the existence of self and the attributes of the existence of
self. [2] They would become aware of what is the reality of awareness and
knowledge. [3] They would become aware of the profit and benefit of awareness
and knowledge.
I did not see myself without
a share of the answers to these three questions, so I recognized that it was
obligatory to render gratitude for this blessing. I saw that the best gratitude
would be to give a share of this virtue to worthy wanters and suitable seekers.
I made a covenant with myself that I would clarify these three chapters for the
seekers through an explication that is proper for my own seeing and knowledge
and that fits within my potency and ability. For, the person most worthy for
this knowledge is he who knows to ask of it. This is because this knowledge is
the final goal of all knowledges and the quintessence of the animas that have
found perfection. It is the sought and the objective of the saints and the
provision of the nobility of the prophets.
Since this request was made
in three levels—one lower, one higher, and one still higher than the two—I have
divided this book into three talks:
The first talk: On
giving awareness of the existence of the self and the attributes of the self ’s
existence.
The second talk: On giving
awareness of what knowledge and awareness are.
The third talk: On giving
awareness of the profit and benefit of awareness and knowledge.
The First Talk
On Giving Awareness of Self, the Existence of
Self, and the Attributes of the Self ’s Existence
It is ten doors of
speech:
The first door: On how to
give awareness of the existence of self
The second door: On how many
divisions existence has
The third door: On dividing
existence in another way
The fourth door: On the
divisions of the particular existents
The fifth door: On the
divisions of the universal existents
The sixth door: On the
causes of the particular existents
The seventh door: On the
occasions and causes of the universal existents
The eighth door: On the
meaning of self and soul
The ninth door: On the being
of the soul
The tenth door: On the
attributes of the existence of self
The First Door. On how one can give
awareness of the existence of self
Making something clear is of two sorts.
One sort is such that awareness is given of its reality through detailing its
attributes. Thus, awareness of the reality of the animal is given by detailing
its attributes, such as, a body with life-breath, finding with sensation, and
moving through want.
The other sort is that the
thing should have divisions, and you enumerate the divisions so that the
questioner will grasp the reality through the mention of the divisions, since
it is the same in all the divisions. Thus, the divisions of animal are
numbered—flyers, crawlers, and goers—so that the questioner becomes aware of
the thing that is one in all three divisions, such as sensation and motion
through desire.
However, giving awareness of
‘existence’ cannot be through mentioning the detailed attributes of existence,
because the meaning of the word existence is not
compounded of many meanings—such as the meaning of ‘animal’, which is
compounded of the meaning of body, the meaning of anima, the meaning of finding
with sensation, and the meaning of moving through want. Each of these meanings
is one of the attributes of the animal. Rather, existence has no parts from
which it comes together, since the parts of the compound thing are before the
compound thing, but there is nothing whose existence was before existence.
Moreover, the parts of a thing are other than the thing, but there is nothing
other than existence except non-existence, and existence is not compounded of
non-existence. Therefore, one cannot give awareness of existence through
detailing its attributes, but rather, through mentioning its divisions.
The difference between
‘attributes’ and ‘divisions’ is that the attribute of a thing may be more
general than the thing, like measure, which is the attribute of weight. Every
weight has measure, but not every measure is weight. The attribute may also be
equal to the thing in generality, and it may be more specific. The equal is
like ‘moving through desire’, since every animal moves through want, and
everything that moves through want is an animal. The more specific is like
‘scribe’, which is more specific than animal. Every scribe is an animal, but
not every animal is a scribe.
As for the divisions of the
thing, they are not equal with the thing in generality, nor greater in
generality. Rather, they are more specific than it. Thus the divisions of body
are ‘animal’ and ‘inanimate’, and both are more specific than body.
The Second Door of this Talk: On how many
are the divisions of existence
Existence has two divisions—one division
is ‘being’, the other ‘finding’. The difference between being and finding is
that there may be being without finding, like the being of the elemental and
mineral bodies, which are without finding. But there is no finding without
being.
Each of these two divisions
is again divided into two—one potential being, the other actual being, then
potential finding and actual finding.
Potential being is the
lowest level in being. It is the existence of material things in the matter,
such as the existence of the tree in the seed and the existence of the animal
in the sperm-drop. Actual being without finding is like the existence of
elemental bodies and others.
As for potential finding, it
belongs to the soul. The meaning of the word soul and
the meaning of self is one.
Actual finding belongs to
the intellect. What is potential in the soul becomes actual through the
intellect.
The matter of a body that is
potential body reaches act through bodily nature, like the animal’s sperm-drop
that is potentially alive; if it comes to life actually, it becomes actual
through the anima. For the body, nature is like the anima for the animal, and
through it the body is a locus and receptacle for measure.
As for the potential finding
that belongs to the soul, when it becomes actual, it becomes actual though
intellect. The soul is a finder with intellect. Just as potential being is the
meanest level in existence, so actual finding is the highest level of
existence, because being is correct through finding. Whenever the being of any
existent has no finding, its being and nonbeing are equal in relation to
itself, even though, in relation to its finder, they are disparate.
The Third Door. On dividing existence in
another way
Existence is divided in another way,
though there is no great disagreement in meaning between this division and the
former division. However, we will mention these words also so that this may be
cause of an increase in explication.
We say: Existence is divided
into two—soulish and non-soulish. ‘Soulish’ is said in the case of knowing: the
known thing is the soulish existent. The existent is either the ‘come-to-be’ [būda], which was mentioned; or it is the ‘found’ [yāfta], which is the soulish.
In another respect, the
existent is either universal or particular. The existent in the meaning of
come-to-be is only particular. The existent in the meaning of ‘found’ is
divided into two—the found with sensation and imagination, which is particular,
and the found with the intellect, which is universal.
The universal can be both
the attribute of the universal and the object described by the universal. The
particular cannot be the attribute, or else it will not be the described
object. The universal is the root of the particular, while the particular is
among the divisions of the universal.
An example of the universal
is the meaning ‘human’, and of the particular the individual humans, such as
Zayd, Bakr, ʿAmr, and so on, for the root of Zayd and ʿAmr is the human. Humanness belongs to each
of them equally; it is not more in one and less in another. One is not more
human and another weaker in humanness.
The universal cannot be
found with that with which the particular [is found]. The finder grasps the
particulars with the potency of sensation and the potency of imagination, such
as this human and that human, this colour and that colour, this flavour and
that flavour. Then, through a light that is the radiance of the Universal
Intelligence, he finds in self that a thing which is the attribute of many
particulars is equal for all, such as the meaning of colour. When the knower
sees this colour as white, that colour as black, and the other colour as green,
then he knows and finds that, although the many colours are different from each
other in some particular states, they are one in the meaning of colour, which
is universal and is the attribute of all colours.
The particular can be found
with the particular tool, and the universal with the universal potency. The
existence of the particular can be diverse and undergoing alteration, but the
universal is far from alteration and corruption.
Let us now enumerate the
divisions of the particular existents, and then we will mention the universal
existents, for we have taken the two as the divisions of the existent. After
that, we will also mention the occasion and cause of both existents, through
the success-giving and guidance of the Success-giver and Road-shower—high
indeed is His loftiness and holy are His names!
The Fourth Door of this Talk: On the
divisions of the particular existents
The particular existents are of two
sorts—root and branch. The root is the cosmos, and the branch is its progeny.
By the word cosmos, we mean those existents whose
beginning is the remotest sphere and whose end is the orb of the earth, along
with all the states and potencies of this totality, including the spheres and
stars and their mover, and the four elements and their natures.
As for the branch, it is the
progeny of the cosmos, like the kinds and classes of minerals, the varieties of
growing things including plants and trees, and the various sorts of animals,
all of which can be found with sensation or imagination.
The difference between
perception by the senses and perception by imagination—though the perceptibles
of both are particular—is that with sensation, one can find a thing that is
present, and its form is imprinted in sensation’s tools. In other words, the
form of the sensible is depicted in the substance of sensation’s tool so that
the possessor of the senses may become aware of its being depicted. Imagination
perceives everything that is depicted in the senses when the sensible is
present, but, when the thing becomes absent, imagination can be aware of it in
its absence just as it was aware of it in its presence. The perception of
imagination is ‘fancy’ [pindār].
The specificity of the
‘individual’ existent is that it has no multiplicity, whether in imagination or
in outside existence. Thus the individual Zayd cannot
be many things. One cannot bring many things into the imagination, all of which
will be the indicated Zayd.
Although the universal is
one meaning and one reality in itself, outside of itself it may be many, all
equal in that reality. Even if it is not many in outside existence, a
multiplicity described by the one meaning can be brought into imagination. For
example, by ‘sun’ is not meant this sun that is a particular. Although it is
one in individual existence, many suns all sharing the meaning of sun can be
brought into imagination.
Now, this cosmos and every
root and branch within it are all particular in existence, for one cannot bring
into imagination many cosmoses nor are there in existence many cosmoses that
are all this cosmos.
Every particular has
existence through a universal, through which it comes to stand. Thus, every
particular human and every particular animal that can be indicated is that human and that animal
through the universal human and the universal animal in which all share. But
the universal human is not human through the particular human, for if the
particular individual should be nullified the universal will not be nullified.
In the same way, if the branches and progeny of the cosmos should be nullified
the cosmos, which is the root, will not be nullified. The relation of universal
existents to particular existents is the same as the relation of roots to
branches, for the existence of the branch is from the root.
The Fifth Door of this Talk: On the
divisions of the universal existents
The universal existents are not outside of
two divisions: either they are the supreme level, which does not belong to any
universal’s division, while all the universals are among its divisions; or they
are not the level of the supreme side, though these also have divisions and
branches.
The first division of
universal that we mentioned is the meaning of thing
and existent, for the meaning of thing and existent
is not the branch and division of any other universal that is more general than
thing and existent. Among the branches and divisions of thing and existent are
‘substance’ and ‘accident’, and we have mentioned the divisions of accidents
and substances in the book The Clarifying Method. But
the purpose of this book and this talk is that awareness be given of the
existence of the self and the attributes of the self ’s existence. The
divisions of the universal were mentioned because the perception of universal
meanings is an attribute of the self ’s existence, and everything that is more
universal and more general is closer to the self and brighter in perception.
The universal existents
belong to the division of existence in the meaning of finding, not in the meaning
of being without finding. Hence being without finding is particular and is
found with sensation and imagination. Everything more universal is more found.
The divisions and branches
of the universal come to an end with the particular, for an individual and a
part does not accept dividing, neither in the form of sensory existence, nor in
the imagining potency. By these words we do not mean that the individual
existent that can be indicated does not have parts. Rather, we mean that it
cannot be divided such that every division should be like it—like ‘animal’,
which is divided into human, beast, flyer, and crawler, and each division is
animal. So also is ‘human’, which is divided into Zayd, ʿAmr, and Bakr, and each
of these three is human: ‘colour’, which is divided into black, white, red, and
green, and each of these divisions is colour. This is not like the sensory Zayd
who has parts, like hand, foot, and head. Zayd’s hand is not Zayd, nor is his
head, nor is his foot.
The beginning of the soulish
existents, which are the perceptibles and knowns, is the meaning of ‘thing’ and
‘existent’. The end of the perceptibles is the meaning of the sensible
individual, and [the end of] the universals is either ‘genera’, ‘species’,
‘differentiae’, ‘specificities’, or ‘general accidents’. We have spoken of the
meanings of these names in The Clarifying Method.
The Sixth Door of this Talk: On the causes
of the particular existents
Awareness was given before that the
particular existents are divided into two—root and branch. The existence of the
branch comes from the root, and the root in the particular existents is the
celestial sphere and the elemental bodies. The branch of this root is the
mineral, vegetal, and animal bodies.
Hence, the cosmos, which is
the root, is one of the causes of the progeny, which are the branch. The cosmos
and its progeny are compound, and everything compound must have several causes
in existence according to its compoundedness.
Particular existents must
have four causes in existence. One is matter, from which things can be
compounded. One is form, through which they can come to be compounded. One is
the actor, which does the compounding. And one is the final goal and the
completeness, since the actor compounds for the sake of the final goal.
Since the cosmos and the
existent things are compound, they must have matter, form, actor, and final
goal. The existence of all four causes is clear. The lowest of the causes and
occasions is the thing’s matter. Higher than it is form, for the existence of
matter reaches act through form. Higher than both is actor. And more eminent by
essence than all three is completeness and final goal, since the final goal
makes the actor into an actor so that it may depict the form in the matter.
In the progeny, these causes
are compound, because the branches have more parts of compoundedness than the
roots. For example, the form of humans is compounded from the form of animals
and plants and from bodily form. Their matter is also compounded from the
matter of animals, plants, and bodies. The matter of the progeny’s bodies is
from the elemental bodies, and the matter of the elemental bodies is
unconditioned body. The matter of [unconditioned] body is substance. Hence the
matter of the cosmos is simple. And since the parts of its compoundedness have
become fewer, a cause has also been subtracted. This is the material cause, for
the first matter has no matter. So also, the first actor has no active cause,
and the final goal and completeness has no final goal and completeness.
We indicated what the final
goal of existence is before, when we mentioned the divisions of existence,
which are being and finding. Being is either potential or actual, and so also,
finding is either potential or actual. Just as potential being is the lowest
level in existence, actual finding is the most eminent level in existence, for
being becomes correct through finding. Hence, the final goal and completeness
of existence is actual finding. Afterwards, this will become clearer.
The Seventh Door of this Talk: On the
occasions and causes of soulish existence, which we have called ‘finding’
It has come to be known that the known
things and the perceptibles are of two sorts—universal and particular. The
particular is that which is perceived with the potency of sensation and
imagination. The universal is that which is perceived with intellect and
essence.
Now we say: Perceptibles are
of two sorts—either compound or simple. The particular perceptibles are
compound only. Different things can be perceived with different means of
perception. Thus colours and shapes are perceived with the sense of eyesight,
sounds and letters are perceived with hearing, flavour is perceived with the
sense of taste, aroma is perceived with smell, and other qualities—such as heat
and cold, wetness and dryness, roughness and smoothness, softness and
hardness—are perceived with the sense of touch.
The material cause of
sensory perception is the tools of sensation. The formal cause is the sensory
form, by which the tool of sensation becomes impressed and formed. The active
cause is the sensory and animal soul. The completing and final cause is for the
particular existent to become bright and correct. In other words, the
‘come-to-be’ turns into the ‘found’, and its bodily existence becomes soulish.
As for the universal
perceptibles, which we called ‘known things’ and ‘intelligibles’, they are of
two sorts—simple and compound. The compound knowns have, in reality, no
material cause, but rather something like a material cause. Inasmuch as the
knowns are acquired from the sensibles, they are sensibles and imaginables. The
active cause is the reflecting soul. The completing and final cause is for
potential finding to become actual.
These knowns have no formal
cause, because they themselves are forms belonging to the soul. That which is
like the formal cause is their permanence and fixity.
The causes of the simple
knowns are two—the active cause, which is the intellect that makes actual, and
the completing cause, which is the conjunction of the known things with the
knower. There is neither material nor formal cause, since the simple has
neither matter nor form. This is because matter belongs to the compound things,
not to the simple things, and also the utmost end of the simple forms is in the
knower. When he knows his essence, all the causes become one. The actor, form,
and matter of the known turn into the final goal.
The Eighth Door of this Talk: On the
meaning of self
We use the word soul
and the word self in one meaning. When we say that
any of the existent things without perception—whether potentially or
actually—is not among the possessors of soul, we mean that it has no self. When
it is said about an ill person who swoons or becomes unconscious, ‘He went from
himself ’, or ‘He became without self ’, this is said because he fails to
perceive and have awareness.
The vegetal substance is
called a ‘possessor of soul’ because it has found the first level of life,
which is the movement of configuration and growth. The movement of
configuration and growth is life’s first level, and sensation and desire are
the second level. Whatever has neither the life of movement nor the life of
sensation is not called ‘possessor of soul’, because the soul’s first trace in
the body is movement. If no trace appears, one cannot affirm that which leaves
traces.
The ‘soul’ of each thing is
its root and reality, through which the thing is the thing. The growing soul is
the root and reality of the vegetal substance, and through it the growing thing
grows. The animal soul is the root and reality of the animal, and through it
the animal is an animal, not through the bodily form. When the traces of the
soul become non-apparent and nullified in these bodies, the animality of the
animal and the humanness of the human come not to be, even though the body
keeps its own guise and shape. Thus, one cannot judge that the dead bodies of
animals and humans have humanness or animality. So also is the vegetal body
that has been cut off from the vegetal soul.
The Ninth Door of this Talk: On the
existence of the soul
At the first stage of the work and the
beginning of the search for knowledge, the human comes to know and find
everything that cannot be found with the senses by way of inference from the
sensible. In other words, he uses what he has found with the senses as an
intermediary and he makes it show the road to the non-sensible. Thus, from
finding motion with the senses, he finds the motion-inducer. From the sensible
casket he knows the carpenter.
When he becomes more
complete and nears the utmost end and perfection, he reaches the effect from
the cause and the occasioned from the occasioner. From knowing the root, he
grasps the branch. As long as he can recognize the root only by recognizing the
branch, he is still a pupil and has the level of learning. When he knows the
effects from the knowledge of the causes, he is the knower, not the pupil.
Now, knowing self, which is
the soul, is in this respect. When he is heedless of self and finds other than
self, he is a pupil and a searcher. Knowing the traces of self in a sensible
individual shows him the road to knowledge of the soul’s existence, by the path
of which we are talking. When we want to affirm the existence of the growing
soul from its traces that we find in trees and plants—like increase, leaves,
blossoms, bearing produce, and arriving at seeds and fruit—we seek out with theoria whether this state that we have seen from them,
which is the increase of the growing body, has risen up from the body inasmuch
as it is the body, or from something other than the body. If the first
sort—that it has risen up from its bodiment—is null and false, then the second
sort is true and truthful—that it comes from something other than its bodiment.
There is no other sort than these two—that motion is from it or from other than
it.
The nullification of the
first sort can be by this path: We think over the fact that if the motion, the
increase, and the bringing forth of seeds and fruit were from the body of the
tree and the plant, then, as long as that tree is a body, this state would be
with it. But there is no doubt that this body will remain in its bodiment while
this state will become separate from it. Thus we know that the motion and
increase rise up through that thing. So, this is the root that incites its
growth, for the existence of the growing thing is through the growth-inciter.
This path, which is to know
the trace and, from knowing the trace, to know the trace-inducer, is called
‘inference’ [istidlāl], that is, searching out the
road-shower to and ‘evidence’ [dalīl] for something.
By this same path by which
we became aware of the existence of the growth-inciting soul, we can also
become aware of the animal soul. The life that is sensation and movement
through desire and that becomes manifest in the body of the animal is either a
state essential to the body, or a trace of something that is other than the
animal’s body. If it were the state of the body, so long as its body had its
own bodiment, the animal would be alive. But there is no doubt that the body is
sometimes alive and sometimes dead, and the body has its own bodiment in both
states. Hence, the life of the living body is from something other than its
body, through which the animal is alive. So, it is this thing that is the root
of the living thing, not the body.
By this same path, one can
find awareness of the human soul by knowing the traces of the human soul.
However, there is a difference between inferring the trace-inducer from the
traces of the human soul and inferring the trace-inducer from the traces of the
growing soul and the animal soul. This is because the traces of the
growth-inciting soul and the animal soul become manifest only in bodies, but
the traces of the human soul are in the animal soul, and they reach the body from
the animal soul. Also, the seeker and pursuer of the animal soul and the
growing soul is not the animal soul and the growing soul, but rather, the human
soul, while the seeker and pursuer of the human soul is also the human soul. By
knowing them through self ’s essence, he knows self ’s essence, so this appears
more surprising. After all, when searching for other than self shows the road
to self, this is truly a marvellous work. Its explanation will come in the
Tenth Door, God willing—high indeed is He!
The Tenth Door of this Talk: On giving
awareness of the attribute of the self ’s existence
When many existents are made known, each
comes with a specific name. The difference in names is because of the
difference of specificities. The specificity of each thing is its reality. The
meaning of ‘reality’ is to be fit for being. For example, if a body is long,
and it is known that the ‘long’ is something with length, then the thing is
self, but the length is not self. This is because first there must be the
thing, which is the locus of length so that length can be. Thus the thing is
fit for being, not its length, and the length has being through the thing’s
being.
In the same way, the name human is given to humans because of the human specificity,
and the human specificity is the human reality. So, what is ‘suitable for
being’ is the human soul. It is clear that humans are not human through the
body, since the inanimate body can be established through shape, guise, and the
conjunction of the parts and not be a human—just as we said about animals and
growing things. Moreover, they are not human through the specificity of the
growing soul or the animal soul. Otherwise, all animals would be human, for all
animals have that specificity.
Hence, the reality and
selfhood of the human through which the animal is human is not the reality and
selfhood of the plant and the animal. The springhead of knowing that reality is
searching, and the springhead of searching to find that reality is the human
soul. Hence the searcher is self, and the object of search is also self. To
search for self is to go back to self, and to know self is to reach self.
There will be searching and
asking when someone’s existence is potential finding, for in one respect the
object of search is, and in another respect it is not. One cannot search for
that which is in every respect, nor can one search
for that which is not in every respect.
Potential finding is called
‘desire’, that is, one has found and one does not know that one has found.
Actual finding is called ‘knowing’, that is, one has found and one knows that
one has found.
When the soul seeks self, it
is potentially found and finder. When it finds self, it is actually finder and
found. As long as it is knower of self potentially, it is the soul. But when it
is knower and finder of self actually, it is not the soul. Rather, it is the
‘intellect’, for, when the specificity turns into something else, the name also
turns into something else.
The Second Talk
On Giving Awareness of what Awareness and
Knowledge are.
This is one chapter.
Awareness and knowledge are finding things
in self. Whatever is not cannot be found. It is possible for humans to know all
things. Hence, if a human finds all things in self, and if what is not cannot
be found, then all things are in self. Hence the human soul is general and
encompasses all things, for they are within it.
Let us now recount how all
things are in the human.
Know that we said before
that the existents are either universal or particular. The universal is the
root and reality of the particular, since the particular is among the
divisions, limbs, and branches of the universal. The branch and shoot endure by
the root.
The universal is
intelligible, and the particular is sensible or imaginable. This cosmos—of
which one extremity is the remotest sphere and one extremity the centre of the
earth—and everything that belongs to it are particular.
The universal and particular
share in reality, thingness, and existence, but the two are incompatible in
universality and particularity. Take, for example, the human species and the
human individual. In humanness, there is no difference and no twoness between
them. But inasmuch as one of them is the species that is universal,
intelligible, and the root, while the other is the individual that is sensible,
particular, and the branch, they become two.
The cosmos, which belongs to
the division of particular existents, is the celestial-sphere with all its
layers and the elemental bodies and their progeny, which are the bodies
compounded of the elements. Some of the things compounded of their elements are
inanimate and some animate. Of those that have anima, some are sensate and some
without the senses. Of those that are sensate, some are intelligent and some
without intelligence.
When the human perceives the
body of the cosmos, that is, the spheres and the solitary elements, while his
body is one with the body of the cosmos in the reality of bodiment, then the
bodiment that he has found is the come-to-be for him. When he knows the
compound bodies, while his body is one with the compound bodies in combination
and compoundedness, then the compound body that he has found is the come-to-be
for him. When he knows the animals, while humans in respect of sensation and
movement are animals, then what he has found is the come-to-be for him. And
when the human knows the whole human species, while the finder is also the
human, then he has found self, and the self that he has found is the
come-to-be.
We said before that the
come-to-be without finding has two levels. One is the potentially come-to-be,
which is the existence of the body’s matter. When it reaches act from the level
of potency, it has an occasion and a cause that has made its potency reach act,
and this is the higher level.
The body’s matter, which is
a potential body, is actual body through nature. Nature is the lowest branch
and shoot of the soulish branches and shoots. Since body’s nature is one sort,
all bodies are one in the meaning of bodiment and in receiving measure and
dimensions. Since the form of the bodily in all bodies is one, and this one has
no diversity of parts and is simple, the shape and guise of this simple body is
a simple shape and guise, in which there is no diversity of surfaces and sides.
This is the spherical shape, the measure of whose thickness, length, and
breadth is equal in every direction. So, the first body takes the spherical
guise and form, and it is the body of the cosmos. Hence, the body of the cosmos
can have come to rest in this shape through the bodily nature.
Once the come-to-be is
found, it is more complete. Through the nature of bodiment the body cannot
reach the act of completeness, which is finding, from the potency of receiving
completeness, because perfection cannot be reached from deficiency unless
through movement from potency to act, and the body’s nature cannot be the cause
of the body’s movement. Hence the body moves through a motion-inducing potency,
and the motion-inducing potency is another branch and shoot of the soul, more
eminent than nature.
The first movement in the
first body was revolving movement, for a circular body can only move in a
circle. This is called ‘turning’. From the turning of the spherical body, which
is the body of the cosmos, the centre and circumference of the cosmos appear.
The springhead of opposition in the cosmos’s body is this movement, for when
the circular body turns, a centre is designated around which it turns. The
centre does not turn, but is still. Heat arises from movement, and cold from
rest. Hence, the part that is nearer to the moving is warm, and that which is
nearer to the still is cold. From heat lightness arises, and from cold
heaviness. The heat of the cosmos is fire, and its cold earth. The part that is
nearer to the earth is cold and heavy like the earth, but not to that limit; it
is water. What is nearer to fire is warm and light like fire, but not like
fire, and this is air. Water and air are between fire and earth.
Although these elements all
agree in the bodily form, which is the reception of measures, each has another
form outside the bodily form, and that form demands another nature. The
plurality of the natures of these bodies is born from the celestial-sphere, for
it is the trace of something else that is not bodily. The utmost end of the
magnitude and measure of each element is at another element. What is between
any two elements is not apart or empty, as between water and air, for the utmost
end of one is joined with the beginning of the other.
By means of the revolving
movement, the mover of the celestial orbs makes its trace reach the elemental
bodies all the way to the centre of the earth. That trace is the mixing
together of their natures’ forms so that the compound body comes into
existence. Through compoundedness, the potency of the mutual opposition is
broken. The first compoundedness is the existence of the minerals, which is the
body’s first level and way-station [in moving] from the existent in the sense
of the ‘come-to-be’ to the existent that is ‘found’.
From there the body sets out
until it reaches the level of vegetal compoundedness, in which the potency of
seeking and movement appears from the self. For the body of the plant pulls
other bodies toward its own body through attraction so that they may be like it
and it may increase. It must always have those other bodies. This potency of
attraction and seeking is another of the shoots, branches, and traces of the
tree of the soul, in a level higher than the nature of the compoundedness and
intermixing of the elements.
Another level of existence
in the sense of ‘finding’ is sensory finding, which belongs to the animal along
with the potency of vegetal seeking. The tools of sensation are many, because
the states of elemental bodies increase through compoundedness, and qualities
become plentiful—such as colours, flavours, scents, guises, and shapes. Each of
them has finding with a specific tool. Thus, the finding animal finds out each
state and quality with a tool. It finds out colours with the tool of eyesight;
it finds out sounds, guises, and letters with hearing, aromas with the sense of
smell, flavour with the sense of taste, and the other qualities with the sense
of touch, so that all the states of the bodies may be found.
Once compoundedness in the
compositional virtues and in the mixing and balance of the opposites increases,
sensory finding turns intellective, the sensible becomes the known, the plural
existents come to be unified, and the altering, bodily existence and generation
become the fixed, spiritual thing that is known.
The divisions of existence
are bodies and spirits; and the divisions of the spirits are nature, the
growing soul, the animal soul, and the human soul. Once the states, guises, and
qualities of these substances are all found, the human soul, in finding
whatever it finds of these existents, also finds self. This is such that—as we
mentioned before—humans share in the reality of whatever of this found thing
they find. Hence, when they find it, they also find self. When they grasp the
come-to-be, the found, and the finder, and when the self is also the
come-to-be, the found, and the finder, then they have found self. The profit of
being aware of and knowing this is existence. In the next talk, this will be
explained further, God willing—high indeed is He!
The Third Talk
On Giving Awareness of the Profit and Benefit
of Awareness and Knowledge.
It is three doors of speech.
The First Door. On what profit is
‘Profit’ is one of the causes. In the
previous discussion it was indicated that the causes are four—matter, form,
actor, and final goal. The most eminent cause is the final goal, since the
other causes become causes through it, because the actor depicts matter with
form for the sake of the final goal. Hence, that which causes the active,
material, and formal causes to be causes in the final goal.
The final goal is before all
the causes in essence and after them all in existence. In other words,
existence has its utmost end in it. The four causes are in compositional and
compounded existence. If the existent thing is not compound, there are no
causes of compoundedness. The particular existent is compound only, so it must
have all four causes.
It may be that the active
cause is a compound particular that has another active cause, and that the
particular matter has another matter. For example, the artisan who does
goldsmithery, ironworking, or carpentry must also have an artisan and actor, a
matter, and a form in order to be an existent. Or, take the matter of a house,
which is bricks, clay, and mortar; bricks, clay, and mortar also have a matter.
In the same way, the final
goal of a thing may have another final goal, like the simple, elemental body,
which is for the sake of the compound body. The compound body is the final goal
of the simple, elemental body.
Compoundedness is for the
sake of the equilibrium of the natures, which are mutually opposed and do not
get along. The equilibrium of the natures is for the sake of worthiness to
receive the soulish, spiritual potency. Worthiness to accept the soulish
potency is for the sake of knowledge and intelligence. Knowledge and
intelligence are for the sake of unconditioned existence. Unconditioned,
general existence is for the sake of the Ipseity and Essence.
This order, harmony of
occasions, and multiplicity of causes happens in the compound things. The
utmost end of the causes is at the final goal, and the utmost end of the final
goals is at the Essence, Ipseity, and Reality. By the word profit
we mean the most eminent cause, which is the final goal and perfection.
Now we will indicate what
‘act’ is and which, among these bodily and spiritual existents, is the ‘actor’.
Then we will explain the cause of completeness, perfection, and act, and that
of the actor, God willing—high indeed is He!
The Second Door of this Talk. On act and
doing
Doing is a state that becomes manifest
little by little from a substance in a substance, such that no two states of
this trace exist together. Rather, one comes not to be and the other finds
being. For example, the substance fire makes the trace of warmth appear little
by little in the substance water; and the vegetal soul makes manifest the trace
of the vegetal body’s increase little by little in the substance of the plant’s
body. In no period of that increase and the water’s warmth do two states occur
together. Rather, one state comes not to be and another occurs. This state is
called ‘movement’ and ‘alteration’.
In this discussion, by the
word substance we mean something whose existence does
not require a dwelling-place that would be there before it so that it would
come to exist within it. Rather, it is the dwelling-place of other things that
cannot come to exist except in it—such as length, breadth, shape, colour,
heaviness, and lightness—since the likes of these states exist only in a
dwelling-place.
Things are of two
sorts—either dwelling-place or dweller. The dwelling-place is the substance,
and it is one. Plurality and multiplicity are because of the states that dwell
within it. The first states are nine things and quantity is one of these states
that dwell in the substance. In the book The Clarifying
Method, we have enumerated all the states and shown how each has
existence through priority and posteriority along with the divisions of each.
One of them is act. Because of it, substance is another substance, for the
active substance is one thing, and the acted-upon substance something else. Act
is the state that keeps coming from the active substance and keeps reaching the
acted upon substance, though the two are one in that they are substance.
Substance and what dwells
within it share in what is understood from the word existence.
However, they become disparate through priority and posteriority, since the
dwelling-place exists before the dweller. The dwelling-place of act is called
the ‘actor’, and the dwelling-place of being acted upon the ‘acted upon’. The
substance through which acts come by essence is the soul, and its first act is
movement. The substance that is the first thing acted upon is the body.
When it is said that bodies
are ‘active’ and that a trace becomes manifest from them in another body, this
is not said on the basis of the reality, because bodies do not act by essence,
but rather by accident. Thus the body of the fire warms the body of water, and
warmth is the act of the body of fire. However, this is not by essence,
inasmuch as fire is a body, but rather by accident, insasmuch as fire has a
specific potency and nature—from among the potencies of the soul and beyond the
form and nature of bodiment—that warms. Hence the body of fire is the doer of
the warming through that potency.
Such doers are many, since
each of the simple bodies and the compound bodies—the minerals, plants,
animals, and their classes—has a doing that is attributed to its particular
individuals. However, this is not by essence. Rather, the doing of each is
through a potency that is one of the potencies and branches of soul. This is
because the root of acts is movement-giving. We said before that movement does
not come from the body and the bodily nature. So, it is better that what can
come to be by the intermediary of movement not be from a body.
Hence, the first actor is
soul. The meaning of ‘soul’ is root and reality, and soul’s acts are of many
sorts, because of the multiplicity of acted-upon things and bodies. We showed
that the plurality and diversity of bodies arises from the revolving movement,
which separated the centre from the circumference through stillness and
movement. Two became four, and the number of bodies became as many as can be
numbered.
We said that the first actor
is soul, and the first acted-upon thing is body. The first act is depicting
matter with body’s form, which is conjunction and measure, so that body’s
matter may become the matter of another body through body’s form. After bodily
form come shape and guise, which pertain to ‘quality’. After this,
unconditioned body becomes the matter of the diverse bodies, such that some of
them receive the form of movement from soul, like the celestial orbs, and some
the diverse qualities, like the elements. The elements become the matter of the
compound bodies, the compound things the matter of growing bodies, and growing
bodies the matter of animate bodies.
The meaning of this
discussion is not that every compound thing becomes a plant, nor that all plants
become animals, but rather that every matter, in keeping with the form’s
worthiness, has a specific limit and utmost end beyond which it does not pass.
A compound thing that has no more preparedness than for compoundedness and
mixing does not pass beyond this limit and does not become a plant. What we
mean is that body receives life only when it has first received the potency of
growth; it receives human life, in the sense of the intellective potency, only
when it has first received the sensory and animal potency. So also is the case
with every other matter in relation to every form.
So, every matter belonging
to the compound things has a simpler matter, and every accidental actor has an
actor, until this reaches the matter of matters, which is the first matter, and
the actor of actors, which is the first actor.
Act has a nature and a
substance. Every state that does not belong to something’s root belongs to the
root of something else. The actorness of soul is by nature, and its life is by
essence. Its life is from its reality and root, which is intellect. Intellect
is to soul as soul is to nature, and as nature is to body. Hence, soul has no
matter and no actor; as for matter, this is because the first matter has
existence from soul; and as for actor, this is because act is movement-giving,
and soul is movement-giver. The vegetal forms that come to bodily matter are
also from soul’s act and trace.
The first form in the bodies
is the bodily form, within which it is possible to posit length, breadth, and
depth. After the form of the body is the form of the body’s shape—round or
polygonal. After the form is movement—revolving or straight. After this is the
form of intermixture and combination, which is generation and transformation.
After this, movement increases or decreases, and this is in body’s quantity.
After this is animal movement. Hence all the material and active causes reach
the utmost end at the soul, and it has no material or active cause.
The Third Door. On the formal and final
occasion and cause of soul
Know that soul is a substance living by
essence, doing by nature, and potentially knowing.
It is a substance because
act exists through it and in it, and it is the dwelling-place of the act, but
it is not within any dwelling-place; this is the state and attribute of a
substance.
Its doerness by nature is
obvious from the previous discussion, for actorness in it belongs to the root,
but in other than it, it is accidental and alien.
The livingness is because
all bodies are animate and living through it, but dead by their own nature.
It is potentially knowing
because in knowing things it is kept distracted and heedless of self and
knowing self. This is potential knowing—that it knows but does not know that it
knows. It knows something and fancies that the known is something outside of
self. It does not know that it is finding that thing in self.
In this respect, soul is not
without deficiency, even though ‘existence’ in the sense of fixity and
obtainment is actual in soul, and ‘existence’ in the sense of that which is
intelligible and known is also actual in soul, for soul’s substance is neither
sensory and imaginal nor sense-intuitive, since sensation, imagination, and
sense-intuition are each among the potencies of the human soul. Rather, soul’s
substance is intelligible.
The intelligible is of two
sorts—either an intelligible that is not an intellecter, like the genera and
species of the meanings known to soul; or an intelligible which, along with
intelligibility, is also an intellecter and knower.
Soul is actually known,
because soul’s existence and substance came to be known through the
aforementioned proofs; thus it came to be known actually. However, the knowing
of soul is potential. When its potency reaches act, it is knower of self and known of self. This is the form of the intellect, by
which soul has been depicted. Its potency ended up in act, and with this form,
it is not soul. Just as body’s matter was potentially body, and when the form
of bodiment joined to it, it was body, not matter, so also soul is potentially
knower, and knowing is the intellect. When soul reaches it, it is intellect,
not soul.
The intellect has no cause
other than the final cause, which is the possessor of intellect, because the
final goal of self ’s knowing is to know and be aware of self through self.
Knowing is universal, general existence. All the divisions of
existence—substantial and accidental, bodily and spiritual, species-specific
and individual, natural and soulish—come under its compass and generality. When
it knows self through knowing, then it has reached self. Self is the final goal
of final goals. This knowing is existence, subsistence, completeness, and
perfection. This is the profit of awareness, and the benefit of knowledge.
Unaware, natural, particular, deficient, and corruptible existence turns into
aware, intellective, universal, subsistent, complete, and endless existence.
Awareness of this level has
been given by the discussion, so we end the talk. May we, our companions, and
our brothers be kept occupied, for ever and ever, with gratitude for being
given success to know and to give awareness of the known.
And
praise belongs to God, Lord of the world [37:182].
And blessings be upon His prophet, Muḥammad the chosen, the seal of the prophets and envoys, and upon his
pure household and companions; and may He give abundant peace!
Selected poems of Kāshānī
O you who search to find the encounter,
another time beyond the
heavens.
God is with you. His great
throne is your heart—
If you don’t find Him in
self, where will you find Him?
Put to work this intellect come for work,
let it put right this
mixed-up business.
Imagination has painted a
house of idols in your heart—
break the idols and make the
house the Kaʿba.
Don’t think that I fear that world,
that I fear dying and the
soul’s extraction.
Death is true, so why should
I fear?
I fear that I have not lived
well.
Work no wrong at anyone’s word,
speak with virtue and
torment none.
Tomorrow
you’ll say, ‘Why do you blame me? He told me to do it.’
They won’t accept that from
you—be careful, don’t do it.
Afḍal, you’ve seen that all you’ve seen is nothing.
You’ve run from horizon to
horizon—nothing.
Whatever you’ve said and
heard is nothing,
whatever you’ve hidden in
corners is nothing.
O You whose pure Essence is rid of existence,
all spirits fall flat on the
dirt at Your door.
Whatever has come into being
by non-being’s road
is a drop of dew on the face
of a rose.
No one will know from the surface
how form and meaning came to
be joined.
All will see plainly the
mysteries
only when form is broken.
O Entity of subsistence, is there any subsistence that You are not?
O You with no place, is
there any place where You are not?
You whose Essence is free of
all directions,
where are You after all? And
where are You not?
Every impression that appears on the tablet of being
is the form of Him who made
the impression.
When the old ocean sends up
new waves,
they call them ‘waves’ but
in fact they’re the ocean.
Whether you see kernel as all or shell as all,
don’t look crooked, for He
is all.
You’ve no eye with which to
see Him:
from your head to your
feet—He is all.
First among beings are intellect and soul,
then the nine spheres that
turn in their tracks.
Pass these by and come to
the pillars,
then minerals, then plants,
then animals.
Dabīrān-i Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī
Najm
al-Dīn ʿAlī
ibn ʿUmar
ibn ʿAlī
Qazwīnī known as Dabīrān-i Kātibī was one of the foremost philosophers and
scientists of his day, celebrated for his expertise in logic and philosophy as
well as mathematics and astronomy. A student of Athīr al-Dīn Abharī, he was
already a famous philosopher/ scientist when Hülagü conquered Qazwīn. At that
time Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī
invited him to cooperate with him in the construction and scientific work at
Marāghah which he accepted. He spent some time at Marāghah and assisted Ṭūsī in the composition of
the new astronomical tables (zīj) associated with Ṭūsī’s name. It is also
said that Dabīrān-i Kātibī trained a number of students, among them Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, and
died after an active intellectual life c.657/1276.
Dabīrān-i Kātibī was Shāfiʿī, but his works gained
the attention of both Sunni and Shiʿi philosophers and even theologians. He wrote a number of commentaries
such as those upon the Muḥaṣṣal (The Collected Work) and Mulakhkhaṣ (The Summing Up) of
Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī and the Kashf al-asrār (The
Unveiling of Secrets) of Afḍal al-Dīn Khunjī as well as independent works on philosophy and logic.
Among the works of Dabīrān-i Kātibī the most famous are al-Risālah
al-shamsiyyah (The Solar Treatise) dedicated to the prime minister Shams
al-Dīn Juwaynī and Ḥikmat al-ʿayn (Wisdom from the Source). Al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah
has remained over the centuries among the most popular texts for the teaching
of formal logic and was translated into English in the nineteenth century by A.
Sprenger. Many commentaries have been written upon it including those by Saʿd al-Dīn Taftāzānī and Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī. The text
is still taught in traditional centres for the study of Islamic philosophy in
Persia today.
The philosophical fame of
Dabīrān-i Kātibī resides, however, in his Ḥikmat al-ʿayn which deals with a complete cycle of mashshāʾī philosophy, selections from which appear in this section. This work
has remained among the most popular for the teaching of mashshāʾī philosophy over the centuries and many commentaries have been written
upon it including those by Mīrak Bukhārī, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and ʿAllāmah Ḥillī. Dabīrān-i Kātibī
also exchanged a number of letters with Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī which are of both historical and
philosophical interest.
Dabīrān-i Kātibī did not
simply repeat the mashshāʾī theses of old but in certain places was critical of some arguments
given and provided his own solutions. For example, in his treatise Ithbāt al-wājib (Proof of the Necessary Being), while
accepting the conclusion of the proofs offered, he criticizes some of those
proofs especially the proof for the existence of God based on the impossibility
of infinite regress for which he substitutes other proofs. His arguments about
proofs for the existence of God became known as shubahāt
or doubts associated with his name. The doubts were discussed by later
philosophers and one of them Kamāl al-Dīn Fasāʾī even wrote a book entitled Ḥall
shubahāt al-Kātibī (Solution to the Doubts of
al-Kātibī).
Altogether, Dabīrān-i Kātibī
must be considered one of the major mashshāʾī philosophers of the seventh/thirteenth century, that is, the period
when this philsophical school was being revived mainly by Ṭūsī. The influence of
Dabīrān-i Kātibī is not to be seen only in the circle of Marāghah, but has
continued over the ages and his Ḥikmat al- ʿayn is still studied by many students of Islamic philosophy as a clear and
comprehensive introduction to the Avicennan interpretation of Islamic
philosophy.
In this chapter we have
included a section from Qazwīnī’s Ḥikmat al-ʿayn that addresses one of the most difficult of philosophical questions,
namely the problem of being, quiddity and their relationship with the Necessary
Being. Different types of existence, mental and objective, and their relation
to the rational soul as well as revelation, prophethood, life after death and
the problem of knowing the intelligibles constitute the rest of the discussions
in this chapter.
S. H. Nasr
Ḥikmat al-ʿayn
Translated by Ibrahim Kalin from Dabīrān-i
Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī, Ḥikmat al-ʿayn (with commentary by Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad al-Bukhārī), edited with an introduction
by Jaʿfar
Zāhidī (Mashhad, 1353/1934), pp. 49–56; 71–76; 305–321.
The Addition of Being to Contingent
Quiddity
It [being] is not identical with
contingent quiddity. Nor is it included in it otherwise the intellection of
every contingent quiddity would be the same as the intellection of its being,
or it would necessitate it. The conclusion is false because we can think of a
triangle while doubting its existence [in the external world]. When being is
added to the contingent quiddity, it becomes impossible to affirm of it what
has already been affirmed of it. The conclusion is false because we can affirm
of blackness that it is receptive of existence whereas this cannot be affirmed
of non-existence and blackness with being.1 This is so because
if being was included in contingent quiddity, it would be the most
comprehensive of the common essences. This would also make it a genus [but] the
differentiation of species included in it from one another is through actually
existing differentia and distinct from other species through other actually
existing differentia. And this goes on ad infinitum.2
This would further make the differentiation of the Necessary from the
contingent based on a differentia that subsists by itself, in which case the
Necessary would become composite, which is impossible.
That Being is Identical with the Reality
of the Necessary Being
Being is identical with the reality of the
Necessary Being;3 otherwise it would be either included in it or excluded from it.4
The former calls for compositeness [in the Necessary Being] whereas the latter
for its contingency due to its need for a quiddity. Every contingent must have
a cause that acts upon it. If this [cause] were to be quiddity, then this would
require the precedence of quiddity over it with being because the precedence of
cause over effect is a necessity. [In this case], quiddity would be existent
twice. If the cause was other than quiddity, the Necessary Being would then
need a separate cause in its being. And whatever is like this cannot be
necessary by itself. If we reject the necessity of quiddity’s precedence over
being through being, then it would be permissible to say that quiddity-qua-quiddity
becomes a cause for being when we do not take into consideration its existence
and non-existence as it is the case in receptive (al-qābil)
[beings].
Thus we say that the
knowledge of what we have mentioned above is necessary because that which
completes1 being must have a being of its own, and it completes things other than
being. There is a point to consider here. In contrast to that which is
receptive of being, we cannot say that being-qua-being requires non-disembodiment
(alla-tajarrud) otherwise it would necessitate
disembodiment or it would not require anything of the two of them [i.e., the
necessity of disembodiment]. The first [premise] requires that the existence of
contingent beings be disembodied, viz., not occurring [to anything]. But in
your view the existence of contingent beings is not disembodied. This is a
contradiction.
The second [premise] assumes
that in its disembodiment the Necessary Being needs a separate cause. Since its
existence is intelligible (maʿqūl) and its reality is not intelligible, then its being is other than its
reality. [It is further assumed that] if its being were to be identical with
its reality, it would be then necessary because the ‘necessary’ is a relational
state that can be conceived only between two things.
Thus we respond to the first [premise]
that disembodiment is a negative term (amr ʿadamī) and therefore the Necessary Being does not need a cause. As for the
second, we do not accept that its existence is an intelligible. Rather the
being-qua-being is the intelligible. As for the third, we do not accept the
attribution (ʿuruḍ) of necessity to it. Rather, as we shall demonstrate, necessity is its
own very essence. It is necessary to know that the word ‘being’ is predicated
of the reality of the Necessary Being and other contingent beings equivocally (bi’l-tashkīk). This [principle] will surely erase many of
your doubts.1
On Proving Mental Existence
Know that we can conceive of things that
do not exist in the external world, and pass judgments on them through
demonstrative judgments. That which is judged upon as having the attribute of
being must exist since the affirmation of an attribute for something is
posterior to the affirmation of that thing. Since it is not in the external
world, it exists in the mind, and this proves the reality of mental existence.
In fact, the universal
truths do not exist except in the mind. Consequently, every existent in the
external world is a particular being. One cannot say that when the two
universals of hotness and coldness exist in the mind, this leads to the
concurrence of two opposites, and the mind itself becomes hot or cold. This is
so because we say that we do not accept the concurrence of opposites between
the universals. Nor do we accept the necessity of the form of the mind becoming
hot or cold, and the mind receiving them [as particular states of hotness or
coldness]. One may object [to this] by saying that we do not accept that it
does not have an existence in the external world.
In fact, whatever we
conceive has an actually existing form that subsists by itself or in the beings
that are invisible to us (al-mawjūdāt al-ghāʾibah). How could it be otherwise? Indeed, this is what the sages have accepted
as they have agreed upon the view that all things are inscribed (murtasimah) in the Active Intellect. Yet, theessences such
as man, tree, and stone can sometimes be found subsisting by themselves and
sometimes in the soul. The former is called external existence whereas the
latter is called mental existence even if both of them have external existence.
[The second investigation on the quiddity]
Everything has its own reality by which it
is what it is.1 The reality of a thing is therefore different from all other things
whether it is a necessary [component] of it or different from it.
Horseness-qua-horseness is thus neither one nor non-one because each one or
both of them are either included in their concept, or they are their own
concept. In fact, oneness [as applied to horse-ness] is an attribute added to
it. Thus horse-ness becomes one with it [oneness]. By the same token, when
non-oneness is added to it, it becomes no-one with it. Hence
horseness-qua-horseness is nothing but horse-ness itself.2
Quiddity without the
condition of something (la bi-sharṭ shayʾ) [i.e., as ‘natural
universal’] exists in the external world because it is one of its particular
qualities that exist in the external world. With the condition of no-thing (bi-sharṭ la-shayʾ) [i.e., as a quiddity not conditioned by
any concrete object in the external world] it has no existence in the external
world for that which exists in the external world is bound up with delimitation
and thus cannot be fully disengaged (mujarrad). Thus
the agent (al-fāʿil) [that acts upon concrete objects through change, qualification,
delimitation, etc.] has no effect on the quiddity since, if ‘humanity’ was
instaured (majʿūl) by an instaurer (jāʿil), the doubt about the instaurer’s actual existence would of necessity
lead to doubt about humanity’s being humanity. But the instaurer’s effect
applies only to the quiddity’s existence.3
There is a point to consider
there. Some hold the view that the simple is not instaured because if it was
instaured, it would be contingent since that which is in need of a cause is
contingency. If it [i.e., contingency] was to come about before existence, the
quality of the relationship of existence to quiddity would precede it [which is
false]. If it was to come about after existence, then the contingency of
something would be after its existence [which is also false]. The response to
this is to deny any such restraint [i.e., reject both conclusions] because we
can say that a non-existent attribute [such as contingency] does not need a
locus by which it subsists.1
Those who think this way
argue that the simple is instaured on the basis that the composite (al-murakkab) is composed of simples, and that if the simple
was not instaured, the composite would not be instaured either because every
realization of a composite requires the realization of a simple. Thus the whole
idea of instauration should be rejected. Now, it is to be remarked that the
composite can be instaured because the establishment of its existence for its
quiddity is instaured and the addition of simples to other simples is also
through instauration.
The Fifth Article Concerning the Rational
Soul
If the soul were eternal, then it would
exist before the body. If it were one, then the soul of Zayd would be the same
as that of ʿAmr. If [we assume that] there is only one soul, then whatever one
knows, the other would know it too after they are related. Otherwise the soul
would be capable of individuation (tajziyah) and thus
would not be a disengaged [substance].
If the soul were more than
one, then the differentiation among them would not be through quiddity and
their concomitants. Otherwise that by which they are distinguished from one
another would be the concomitant itself because all of them partake of the same
quiddity. [The differentiation among them] cannot be through the accidents
because if the attribution of these accidents to them were to be through the
quiddity or another agent, then [the accidents] would be necessary. If the
differentiation were because of the body, it would be attached to the body
before the actual existence of the body, and this is absurd.
One may reject the
participation of souls in the quiddity and the concomitant [attributes]. This
rejection applies to the soul’s attachment to a body before it is attached to
this particular body because, as the defenders of the transmigration of souls uphold,
the soul can be attached to another body before and after this particular body ad infinitum.
One cannot argue that if the
soul had existed before this body, it would not need the body for its
particularization and would have no relation to it since we do not accept that
it would not need the body because of its attachment to it because the soul can
be independent of the body, and its attachment to the body is required only for
its [temporal] origination (ḥudūth). In fact, the
soul subsists after the demise of the body otherwise its destruction would be
due to the destruction of its form. Since the destruction of the substance is
not possible without the destruction of the form, there is something in the
soul that is destroyed in actuality and something that accepts this
destruction, and the two are different from one another. This makes the soul
composite [of matter and form]. In this case, it would have the capacity of
both destruction and permanence. But one single thing [i.e., a simple substance
such as the soul] cannot have both of these capacities [at the same time]. This
would necessitate the soul to be a composite.
The opponent can reject the
idea that the destruction of substance without the destruction of form is not
intelligible because substance can be destroyed with the disappearance1
of form from the external world. A single thing cannot have the capacities of
permanence and destruction in the sense of disappearance in the external world.
It has been said concerning transmigration that the soul is originated with the
origination of the body in the sense that whenever a body is originated, a soul
is also originated because, as explained before, the soul itself is
[temporally] originated. Therefore the origination of the soul from its cause
depends on the receptivity of matter, and the matter of the soul is the body.
In its origination, the perfect cause depends on the origination of a perfect
body for the reception of the soul in the sense that the soul ceases to exist
with the body’s non-existence and realized [in the external world] with its
realization. Otherwise we would have to accept its existence before the body or
its non-existence with the body’s origination. Both of these options are
impossible. Thus a single soul emanates from the active cause in its
origination. If [we assume that] another soul is attached to the body by way of
transmigration as if one single body had two commanding souls, this would be
false because each one finds the commander of its body as only one. And this is
based on the temporal origination of the soul, which is, in turn, based on the
impossibility of transmigration.
[Revelation and prophethood]
Let’s end this chapter with two
investigations. The first pertains to the possibility of revelation and
prophethood. Since man has the faculty of imagination (al-muta-khayyilah)
and the faculty of common sense (al-ḥiss
al-mushtarak), it is not unlikely for the being of
a strong soul to have conjunction with the angelic intellects and souls and to
perceive what both have from among the invisibles (al-mutaghayyibāt)
in a universal way. The faculty of imagination then relates these [invisibles]
through particular forms appropriate for it. Then it descends from this [state
of cognition] to the common sense and becomes a sensate observation (mushāhadah maḥsūsah) because of the
purity of the common sense for the faculty of the soul [and] because of its
disentanglement from the attachments of external senses as this may happen in a
state of sleep or wakefulness.
This is revelation (waḥy).1 Yet, because of this
reason some of the states of sleep are true [insofar as revelation is
concerned] and others not. [There are three reasons why some states of sleep
cannot be true for revelation. First of all,] when the soul has a sensation of
particular forms, these forms are inscribed in the common sense during sleep.
[Secondly,] when the soul becomes closely familiar with a form, it is
represented in it [i.e., the common sense] during sleep. And [thirdly] when the
temperament of the brain changes, the actions of the faculty of imagination
also change. As for revelation, it can only be true.
As for the possibility of
prophethood, [it is a reality] because the ideation of the soul itself can be a
cause for [various] events as when the soul can command over the body by
itself, the elemental primary matter (al-hayūlā al-ʿunṣuriyyah) obeys the ideation of the soul. We can therefore say that the
relation of the existence of a strong soul to the world of generation and
corruption is like the relation of the soul to the body so much so that its
ideations can cause the breaking of ordinary rules. Thus wondrous things
emanate from it, and these are miracles.
[Survival of the soul after death]
The second issue pertains to the states of
the soul after the separation [of the soul from the body]. Some uphold that the
soul ceases to exist and returns with the body and
becomes attached to it. Others say that its existence depends on a particular
body, and when the soul is with it, the non-existence of the body requires the
nonexistence of the soul. Some others believe in its eternity and the
impossibility of its subsisting by itself. When the body disappears, the soul
becomes attached to another body as it was attached to yet another one before
this. Still others believe in the temporal origination and subsistence of the
soul after the body.
The soul subsists by itself.
It attains happiness whose cause is the perception of what is appropriate [for
it] insofar as it is appropriate, and misfortune whose cause is the perception
of what is inappropriate [for it] insofar as it is inappropriate. What is
appropriate for the soul is the perception of beings whereby it becomes capable
of perceiving what it can of the First Truth, and It is the Necessary-by-Itself
which is immune from all imperfections and the source of the emanation of
goodness. The soul then perceives what emanates from it [i.e., the First Truth]
in an actual order [of descent] in existence.
After this, the soul becomes
free of the base forms of the body, which obliges the soul to become engrossed
in the necessities of material faculties [such as pleasure and anger], and turn
negligent of the world of the intellect. [After this], it gains the consciousness
of the possibility of perfections and coming to know the unknowns from the
knowns, and thus feels a strong desire towards it [i.e., this state of
consciousness]. The false beliefs that cancel out the truth and the ethics that
is condemned, rejected and based on the body [are all removed from the soul at
this state of disengagement].
When the soul is attached to
the body, it can attain neither happiness nor misfortune owing to the
engrossment of the soul in the affairs of the body. When they are separate, the
impediment disappears. Happiness and misfortune come about [for the soul], and
the degrees of the souls vary in accordance with the happiness and misfortune
[that they have]. All of this depends on the temporal origination of the soul
and the impossibility of transmigration, and you have already learnt what the
Master,1 who is the slave of truth and religion, may God soothe his lying
place, said concerning these two issues.
Now we say: when the soul is
attached to the body, its perfections stand upon itself. When it is perfected
by means of the body and becomes disengaged from the unwanted forms of the
body, there remains no desire on its part for the body. It does not become
attached to another body after the destruction of the body [that it has].
Instead, the perfection pulls it towards the world of the sacred (quds) and it enters the world of the dominion (jabarūt). If the soul is perfected but has not become
disengaged from the forms mentioned above, it still does not have a need for
the body. In this case, it does not become attached to another body but rather
remains [in the body] because of the remaining forms of the body as a
punishment [or constraint for the soul] until they
disappear since they are not necessary for it. They [the forms of the body] do
appear owing to the directness of the affairs of the body. When they eventually
disappear, the soul attains a perfect happiness. Even if it is not perfected
[and thus has not attained happiness], it still needs the body. In fact, had it
not been for unwanted forms [of the body], the soul could subsist all by itself
after the [destruction of the] body whereby it could be completely immune from
pain. It is also possible that the soul’s need for perfection may attract it to
having an attachment with another human body. If it has unwanted forms, then it
is likely that it will always remain constrained and pained by these forms.
Still, it is possible that these forms will pull the soul towards another
animal body. None of these, however, can be fully ascertained, and God knows
the mysteries the best.
[On knowledge]
Knowledge is the occurrence of the
quiddity of something in the intellect without external attachments. It is
either detailed or concise as when someone knows an issue, then becomes
negligent of it, and then when he is asked about it, he attains a state of
simplicity [i.e., simple knowledge].1 This is the source of the details of
these particulars that were described in a detailed manner. The Imam [Ibn
Sīnā?] said: if these particulars are not known, then your claim to know the
particulars before the knowledge of the quiddity would become invalid; if they
are known, then some of them become distinct from others in a detailed manner.
The answer to him is that we do not allow the second condition because the
knowledge of something does not lead to the knowledge of what distinguishes it
from others. Otherwise the knowledge of what distinguishes [something from
others] would lead to the knowledge of what distinguishes that which
distinguishes it from others ad infinitum.2
Intellection can be
potential, and this is the absence of intellection from what it can intellect,
which is called the hylic [i.e., potential] intellect. It can also be actual
either through the self-evident truths together with the capacity of the soul
to attain theoretical truths, and this is called the habitual intellect. Or it
can be through the theoretical truths whereby they [the theoretical truths] are
stored in the soul. [In this kind of intellection], the
soul is capable of reiterating theoretical truths when it wants to without
trying hard to attain them anew, and this is called the actual intellect. In
the case of intellection through theoretical truths, they are never absent from
the soul, and the soul knows that it intellects them. This is called the
acquired intellect.1
One cannot say that when the
soul perceives, the intellector and the intellected become one.2
Thus intellection cannot consist of what has been mentioned since we say that
both of the precedents are impossible. As for the first [precedent], the
intellected is a universal form and the intellector is a particular self. Each
one is different from one another. As for the second [precedent], the
occurrence of the quiddity of something is more general than the presence of
the quiddity of another thing. A more particular falsehood [i.e., the presence
of the quiddity of something different] does not lead to a more general
falsehood [i.e., the presence of the quiddity of the thing in question].
Knowledge is active (fiʿlī) if our [mental]
construction of something comes after its conception [in the mind], and passive
(infiʿālī) if it is the
opposite. The soul does not posses any of the intelligibles in its initial
stages of disposition. But it is capable of them otherwise it would never
attain this ability since that which subsists by itself cannot be destroyed.
[This] comes about for the soul when certain conditions are met and obstacles
removed. And this occurs through sensing the particulars many times. Otherwise
all knowledge would come about at the beginning of the disposition [of the soul
and] all intelligibles would become actual. If the second [i.e., passive]
conception were not enough in the decision of the mind insofar as the relation
between the two is concerned, it would then depend on the deduction of the
middle term through which the relation of the one to the other comes about.
Degrees of souls vary in
their deduction of the middle term. They can have a correct understanding of
the middle terms and their order without any hardship. This is called the
sacred power (al-quwwwah al-qudsiyyah)3
and it stands in exact opposition to the idiot who
cannot understand anything from the sciences. Then there are those that are in
the middle depending on their degree [of understanding]. If by thought (al-fikr) we mean the various movements of the faculty of
imagination, it does not comprehend knowledge (al-ʿilm) for they are preceded by other material [such as sensation]. If by
thought we mean the types of knowledge with a definite order in the mind that
requires the occurrence of another [kind of] knowledge, then thought must be
united with it [knowledge] for thought is necessary for knowledge to come
about. And whenever there is an effect, its necessary cause must be there too.
Knowledge of the cause does not lead to knowledge of its immediate effect1
otherwise the knowledge of the immediate effect would require the knowledge of
the immediate effect of the immediate effect ad infinitum.
Now, the conception of
quiddity with the conception of its immediate effect requires its relationship
to the quiddity itself. In the first case, there is a point to consider because
[this relationship] can terminate in that which does not have immediate effect
or come to an end with that whose immediate effects are some of its concomitants.
Thus we can have the knowledge of that which has a cause only after we have the
knowledge of the existence of that cause because it is a contingent being. Its
existence cannot be preferred [to be brought into actual existence] except
through its cause, and whatever is known through its cause is known
universally.
This is so because when we
know that A is what necessitates B, we also know B and its derivation from A.
Now, both of them are universals. By the same token, when we know that the A
that is linked to universal attributes is what necessitates the B that is
linked to universal attributes, we also know from this that the form that comes
about in the mind from a particular thing in the external world is a universal
because it is composed of a universal quiddity and universal accidents. Even if
that which corresponds to such a quiddity is only one single thing, [the
principle still holds true].2
Change in knowledge requires
change in that which is known because knowledge is dependent upon the known and
also because knowledge cannot correspond to two different things. Since
universal natures cannot change, their knowledge does not change either. The
only exception to this is the particulars because their knowledge changes as
they themselves change.3 The kinds of concomitant theoretical knowledge1
that are necessary do not become necessary [by themselves] for necessity is a
quality of concomitance, not a quality of the concomitant.
Every disengaged being must
be able to intellect all intelligibles because it cannot intellect [things by
itself] and whatever can intellect itself can intellect through other things.
Furthermore, the forms of the intelligibilia in the mind can be associated with
whatever can intellect through other things. By the same token, the forms of
the intelligibilia in the external world can be combined with whatever the
forms of the intelligibilia in the mind can be associated with.
The forms of the
intelligibilia can thus be associated with all disengaged beings, and whatever
is possible for the disengaged agent does in fact come about for it by
necessity. Otherwise, it would be dependent upon the ability of its matter to
receive the emanation from the First Principle, and it would have relation with
matter. All of these precedents are strictly forbidden. The necessary being by
itself is disengaged and cannot be intellected [by others]. The knowledge about
it [or its knowledge] prevents it from intellecting through others [as
contingent beings intellect]. The possibility of the disengaged being’s
intellection through others in the mind does not lead to the possibility that
the forms of the intelligibilia in the mind come to reside in it so that this would
allow for the First Principle to have association with the forms of the
intelligibilia that are in the mind.
The possibility of the
association of the forms of the intelligibilia in the mind does not necessitate
the possibility of their association in the external world. The former consists
of their incarnation in it [i.e., the First Principle] just as they are found
in the intellect, and the latter consists of their incarnation in it just as
they are found in the external world. Thus what they have mentioned concerning
the second premise is also prohibited.
1. Qazwīnī’s objection is based
on the idea that being cannot be added to quiddities otherwise we would have to
accept that quiddities exist before existence is added to them. ‘Blackness with
existence’ added to it and non-existence illustrates this point: when
‘existence as added to blackness’ is removed from it, blackness (or any black
object) must cease to exist rather than becoming ‘blackness without existence
added to it.’ This is another way of stating the logical impossibility of
existence as an accident.
2. Being is a common term (mafhūm mushtarak) among actually existing substances but
not a genus or species because whereas a genus or species by definition applies
only to a definite number of objects, being, as the all-inclusive reality of
all things, cannot include certain things and leave out others. Such logical
terms as genus and species apply to the order of thought, not the order of
being.
3. The commentator Shams al-Dīn
Muḥammad
ibn Mubārak-Shāh al-Bukhārī notes that this is ‘in contrast to the Muʿtazilites and the majority of
the Ashʿarites.’
4. God is identical with His
Essence because there is no distinction between His Essence and Existence. We
can explain this as follows. Essence or quiddity, which I use to translate māhiyyah, is that which makes a thing what it is. Now, no
finite and contingent being is completely identical with its quiddity because
quiddities are by definition shared by other individual beings. Zayd’s
quiddity, for instance, is ‘being human’ or simply humanity. But other
individuals share the quiddity of humanity just like Zayd. Furthermore, Zayd as
a human being has many accidents such as walking and laughing, which are not
part of his quiddity. In other words, Zayd has certain attributes besides his
quiddity. Therefore Zayd is less than his quiddity (humanity), on the one hand,
because others partake of it but more than his quiddity, on the other hand,
because he always co-exists with accidents outside his quiddity. While this
holds true for all contingent beings, it does not for God because nothing other
than God can share His quiddity. In other words, God is the only instance of
His kind. Furthermore, God has no accidents because He subsists by Himself. In
other words, He is necessary-by-itself (wājib bi-dhātihi).
In this sense, God cannot have accidents because accidents may exist in
different substances. Accidents may or may not depend for their existence on
their substratum whereas in the case of God, nothing is caused by anything
other than Himself. This somewhat difficult yet central doctrine of Islamic
philosophy is shared by medieval Western philosophy. Thomas Aquinas advances
similar proofs for the identification of God with His Essence. See his Summa Theologica, Part I, Question 3, Articles 3–6.
1. Literally ‘benefits’ (al-mufīd). Like the grammatical expression in Arabic
‘complete sentence’ (jumlah mufīdah), that which
completes being (al-mufīd li’l-wujūd) expresses the
idea of the completion of actually existing substances.
1. Despite the difficulty of
Qazwīnī’s text, the issue at hand is clear enough: if God’s Being is identical
with His Quiddity and He is the Necessary Being, then how can we attribute this and other qualities to
Him? If we follow the logic of predication, this will certainly lead us to two
independent terms: that which is the predicate (necessary, disembodied, one,
absolute, etc.) and that which is the subject of predication, i.e., God
himself. Unless we affirm, as Qazwīnī does here, that necessity, like oneness,
is identical with the Necessary Being and not a quality added to it, we cannot
secure the unity of God. To address this issue, Qazwīnī introduces
predication-by-equivocality (ḥaml bi’l-tashkīk), which states that such
terms as being and oneness are common terms and predicated of things
equivocally rather than univocally. In other words, substances that have these
predicates have them at different levels of ontological realization in tandem
with their place in the hierarchy of beings. Thus both God and the sun exist
but God exists at a higher level of being than the sun.
1. This sentence and the rest
of the paragraph is obviously a tautology, and philosophical inquiry cannot
thrive on tautologies. Yet, despite our common tendency to write off
tautologies as empty propositions incapable of saying anything about the actual
state of things in the world, they do serve an important purpose in logic: they
define a concept in and of itself without reference to any of its particular
members. This is what quiddities as universals are all about, and this is what
Qazwīnī is trying to articulate here.
2. Keeping in mind the Platonic
context of this paragraph, it is clear that quiddities do exist in and of
themselves without the limitations of their particular members. Therefore, such
attributes as oneness, being, unity and equivocality apply to quiddities and
particular objects in different ways. All horses, irrespective of their
particular attributes such as size, colour, and species, partake of the
quiddity of horse-ness. The differences in their particular attributes do not
bar them from possessing the quiddity of horse-ness. Similarly, horse-ness as
horse-ness and nothing else is not effected by any of the contingencies we may
find in particular horses in the external world.
3. Following Corbin’s French
translation and S. H. Nasr’s adaptation of it in English, I translated jaʿl as ‘instauration’ to distinguish it
from causation (taʿlīl). In the vocabulary of later
Islamic philosophy, it refers to a special form of causality, and denotes the
generation of the essential attributes of a quiddity. It can also be defined as
a mode of ‘existential causation’ whereby quiddities either as ‘natural
universals’ or concrete objects receive their essential as opposed to secondary
attributes from an agent (jāʿil). The question can be
formulated as follows: in the definition of man as rational animal (ḥayawān nāṭiq), are the terms ‘rational’
and ‘animal’ an essential part of the definition of man-qua-man or are they
occasioned by attributes that are outside the essential definition of man?
Insofar as the actual existence of quiddities is concerned, the debate is
similar to the one between those who uphold the primacy of quiddity (aṣālat al-māhiyyah) and those who uphold the
primacy of being (aṣālat
al-wujūd).
For Ṣadrā’s
defence of being as ‘instaured-by-itself ’ (majʿūl
bi’l-dhāt),
see Kitāb al-Mashāʿir, 7th mashʿar, 37–44 in Le livre des pénétrations métaphysiques, tr. Henry Corbin
(Tehran-Paris: Institut Français d’Iranologie de Téhéran, 1982, 2nd ed.); for
Corbin’s commentary, see, 157–169. See also Ṣadrā’s treatise Aṣālat jaʿl al-wujūd in Majmūʿa-yi rasāʾil-i
falsafī-yi Ṣadr al-Mutaʾallihīn, ed. Ḥamīd Nājī Iṣfahānī (Tehran, 1996), pp.
181–191.
1. Contingency has two major
applications in Islamic philosophy. The first refers to absolute contingency
and characterizes all non-necessary beings, i.e., all contingent beings other
than God. The contingent beings do not exist by themselves because they derive
their existence from another source. The second refers to contingency as
possibility and ability (al-imkān al-istiʿdādī), viz., the ability of
contingent beings to receive effects from other agents, assume new attributes,
etc. Vis-à-vis their own quiddities, contingent beings exist with a degree of
necessity otherwise we would not be able to attribute any qualities to them. It
is the first sense of contingency to which Qazwīnī is referring here.
1. Translating irtifāʿ, literally ‘elevation’.
1. Qazwīnī’s commentator
Mubārak Shāh al-Bukhārī hastens to add that ‘[this is revelation] when the
person in question is a prophet and inspiration (ilhām)
when the person is a saint.’ See al-Bukhārī’s Sharḥ ḥikmat al-ʿayn, p. 379.
1. Probably a reference to Ibn
Sīnā.
1. Avicenna’s
De Anima Being the Psychological Part of Kitāb al-Shifāʾ, ed. F. Rahman (London,
1959), pp. 241–242. This is part of a larger discussion in Islamic philosophy
as to whether the intellect knows things through their essences and universal
qualities, i.e., as simple knowledge or through their particular attributes, i.e.,
as composite and detailed knowledge. It is obvious that both kinds of knowledge
inform the way we know ourselves and the world. Yet, as part of their
Neoplatonic intellectualism, the Muslim philosophers tend to regard the first
kind of knowledge superior to the second.
2. Qazwīnī’s point can further
be explained as follows: our knowledge of what distinguishes A from B does not
give us the knowledge of what distinguishes A from C, D, E, and so on. It is
not enough to know what A and B are to ascertain in what ways A is different
from C and D without knowing what C and D are.
1. It is to be noted that
Qazwīnī defines the acquired intellect as the self-reflective intellect, namely
having the knowledge and consciousness of its knowledge of itself and other
things.
2. The unification of
intellect, intelligible, and intellection is a notorious debate in Islamic
philosophy. While the majority of Muslim philosophers have rejected the
unification argument in relation to human knowledge as philosophical sophistry
and mystical illusion, they have allowed it in the case of God’s knowledge.
Mullā Ṣadrā, however, presents a rather staunch defence of the
unification argument for both human and divine knowledge. For Ṣadrā’s views on the subject
see his Risālah fī ittiḥād al-ʿāqil wa’l-maʿqūl in Iṣfahānī, Majmūʿah, pp. 63–103; for a brief
historical survey of the debate, see my ‘Knowledge as the Unity of the
Intellect and the Object of Intellection in Islamic Philosophy: A Historical
Survey from Plato to Mullā Ṣadrā’, Transcendent
Philosophy: An International Journal for Comparative Philosophy and Mysticism,
vol. 1, 1 (2000), 73–91.
3. The terms ‘sacred power’ and
‘sacred intellect’ go back to Ibn Sīnā who defines them as a ‘kind of prophecy’
(ḍarb min al-nubuwwah) and thus as ‘the highest human
capacity.’ See Avicenna’s De Anima, pp. 239 and 250.
See also Ibn Sīnā, Kitāb al-Najāt, ed. M. Fakhry
(Beirut, 1985), pp. 205–206.
1. Translating lāzim as effect rather than as ‘necessary component’ or
‘concomitant.’ Qazwīnī is employing here a slightly different terminology for
causality.
2. As Ibn Sīnā points out, ‘all
[sensate] perception is particular and by means of a corporeal instrument.’ Cf.
Najāt, p. 210. In contrast, all intellectual
perception is universal and by means of an incorporeal instrument, i.e., the
intellect.
3. Knowledge of Zayd as ‘man’
does not change regardless of the particular changes that may occur in his
being an individual human being when, for instance, he walks, learns something
new, or sleeps.
1. Translating al-ʿulūm al-naẓariyyah as kinds of theoretical
knowledge rather than as necessary ‘sciences’ or ‘knowledges.’ In philosophical
Arabic, it is common to use ʿilm in the plural to mean
different types of knowledge rather than ‘sciences’ (ʿulūm).
Athīr al-Dīn Abharī and Amīr Ḥusayn Maybudī
In the
tradition of the history of Islamic philosophy in Persia as well as in India
Athīr al-Dīn Abharī has become known primarily as the author of the Kitāb Hidāyat al-ḥikmah (The Book of
Guidance for Philosophy) which is a text summarizing later mashshāʾī philosophy. Many commentaries were written on this text the most
famous being those of Maybudī and Mullā Ṣadrā both of which became among the most
important books of mashshāʾī philosophy taught to this day in traditional circles.
Athīr al-Dīn Mufaḍḍal ibn ʿUmar Abharī was born in
Abhar and was one of the most important students of Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī. He also
studied mathematics and astronomy with Kamāl al-Dīn Mawṣīlī. He was a friend of
Naṣir
al-Dīn Ṭūsī
with whom he exchanged letters. When the Mongol invasion occurred, he went to
Damascus and then Anatolia where he taught for some time. He died in 663/1264
after having written a number of important works and having trained several
famous figures among them the philosopher Dabīrān-i Kātibī and the scientist ʿImād al-Dīn Zakariyyāʾ Qazwīnī, the author of
the famous ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt (Wonders
of Creatures).
Abharī was not only a
philosopher but also an outstanding mathematician and an accomplished poet. His
works include several texts on logic, a response to the works of Ibn Sīnā and
Bahmanyār, a number of treatises on astronomy and a treatise on the attempt to
prove the fifth postulate of Euclid concerning parallel lines which is an
important text in the history of mathematics. By far the most famous of his
works is the Hidāyat al-ḥikmah which made his reputation as a major mashshāʾī philosopher following the revival of this school by Ṭūsī.
There are clear indications,
however, that Abharī was also well versed in the teaching of Suhrawardī. Both
Shahrazūrī and Ibn Kammūnah attest to this fact. Moreover, in two philosophical
works of Abharī that have survived, Muntaha’l-afkār fī
ibānat al-asrār (The Summit of Thoughts Concerning the Clarification of
Mysteries) and Kashf al-ḥaqāʾiq fī
taḥrīr al-daqāʾiq (The Discovery of Truth Concerning the Accurate
Statement of Subtleties), there are sections which reveal Abharī’s evident
knowledge of ishrāqī teachings. In any case not all
the works of Abharī, even those extant, have as yet been studied in detail in
order to make his ideas fully known, even his scientific and poetic works.
Meanwhile, he remains a major representative of later mashshāʾī thought through his exceptionally popular Hidāyat
al-ḥikmah.
As for the commentator upon
the text translated here, that is, Maybudī, he was a ninth/fifteenth-century
theologian, philosopher and Sufi poet as well as an accomplished astronomer.
His full name is Qāḍī Amīr Ḥusayn ibn Muʿīn al-Dīn Ḥusaynī Yazdī Maybudī and he hailed from Maybud near the city of Yazd.
It is said that he studied in Shiraz and was a student of Jalāl al-Dīn Dawānī.
Being a Sunni in madhhab, he faced severe opposition
after Shah Ismāʿīl imposed Twelve-Imam Shiʿism as the official state religion in Persia and most likely Maybudī
was put to death in 909/1503–1504 because of his opposition to Shiʿism.
Qāḍī Maybudī has left behind a numbers of
scientific works including the glosses upon the recension of the Elements of Euclid by Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and the astronomical treatise of Qāḍī-zādah Rūmī, works on
logic, commentary upon the Dīwān of poetry attributed
to ʿAlī
ibn Abī Ṭālib
and works on Sufi technical vocabulary and Sufi manners (ādāb).
He is also the author of Jām-i jahān-namā (The Cup
Revealing the World) which reveals his combined interest in philosophy, ʿirfān and cosmology. His most important and famous work remains, however,
his commentary upon Abharī’s al-Hidāyah known also as
Sharḥ al-hidāyat al-athiriyyah, selections of which are included in this section.
The sections included here
begin with a discussion concerning the knowledge of the Creator and continue by
treating the relationship between the attribute of necessity and Divine
Reality. In a highly detailed and complex set of metaphysical arguments, Abharī
demonstrates that necessity is inherent in the Divine Essence and not a
contingent attribute.
The theme of necessity and
its relation to God’s Being runs through the entire section and such concepts
as reality, existence, non-existence and essential and non-essential attributes
are discussed here.
S. H. Nasr
COMMENTARY UPON GUIDANCE THROUGH
WISDOM
Sharḥ hidāyat al-ḥikmah
Translated for this volume by Nicholas
Heer from Amīr Ḥusayn Maybudī, Sharḥ hidāyat al-ḥikmah (Istanbul, 1321/1903), pp. 100–107.1
Chapter Two
On Knowledge of the Creator and His Attributes
Section [One]: On the Proof for the
Necessarily [Existent] by virtue of Its essence2
[1] The Necessarily [Existent] by virtue
of Its essence, if considered as It is in Itself (min ḥaythu huwa huwa), is that
which does not accept non-existence (al-ʿadam). In proof of this (burhānuhu)3
one may say that if there were not in existence an existent which was necessary
by virtue of its essence, then an impossibility would result. This is because
all existents would then constitute a totality (jumlah) made up
of individuals (āḥād) each one of
which would be contingent by virtue of its essence (mumkin li-dhātihi). It follows that the
totality would also be contingent because of its need for each of its
contingent parts, since what is in need of what is contingent has all the more
reason to be contingent. Therefore it, that is, the totality, would need an external cause to bring it into existence (ʿillah mūjidah khārijiyyah), that is, a cause
external to the totality. And the knowledge of this
is self-evident
(badīhī), that is, necessary (ḍarūrī)
and intuitively inferred (fiṭrī al-qiyās).
[2] In confirmation of this
(taqrīruhu)4 it may be said that the cause cannot be
the totality itself, which is apparent, nor one of its parts, since the cause
of the totality is also the cause of each one of its
parts. The reason for this1 is that each part is contingent and in
need of a cause. If the cause of the totality (al-majmūʿ) were not also the cause
of each of the parts, then some of them would be caused by another cause, and
the first cause would not be the cause of the totality, but, on the contrary,
of some of it only. From this it follows that any part which was the cause of
the totality would have to be the cause of itself.2
[3] Here there is room for
further discussion (wa-hāhunā baḥth), however, because the contingency of the totality does not imply its
being in need of a cause which is individually one (wāḥidah
bi’l-shakhṣ). On the contrary, it is possible for the totality to be dependent on
many causes which bring the individual parts (āḥād) of the totality into existence, all of which causes together are the
cause of the existence of the totality. It is also possible that the contingent
[parts] constitute an infinite chain in which the second is the cause of the
first, the third the cause of the second, and so on. Thus, the cause of the
totality is that part of it which consists of all of those parts which are both
causes and effects. The only [part] excluded is the [last part which is] purely
an effect (al-maʿlūl al-maḥḍ).3
[4] The commentator on al-Mawāqif4 said: The discussion concerns the cause
which brings something into existence (al-ʿillah
al-mūjidah) and which is independent in
effectiveness (al-taʾthīr) and in bringing-into-existence (al-ījād).
If what is before the last effect is a cause which brings the whole chain into
existence and is truly independent in its effectiveness with respect to it,
such a cause would definitely be a cause of itself.5
[5] It can be said in
refutation of this remark (al-kalām)6
that each one of the parts would then be in need of a cause external to the
chain of contingents, for if it were not external then either a vicious circle
(al-dawr) or an endless chain (al-tasalsul)7
would result. Moreover, to acknowledge the need for a cause after observing
that something is contingent is [an inference that is] intuitive. It should be
apparent to you that this [refutation] is not pertinent to the argument.1
[6] Moreover, an existent
which was external to all contingents would be necessary by virtue of its
essence. Thus, the existence of what is necessarily existent (wājib al-wujūd) follows from the assumption of its non-existence,2 and that is absurd.
Therefore, its non-existence is impossible, and its existence is necessary.
Section [Two]: On [the proof] that the
Necessary Existent’s existence is the same as Its reality (ḥaqīqah).
[1] The grades of existents in existence (marātib al-mawjūdāt fi’l-mawjūdiyyah) are, according to
logical division (al-taqsīm al-ʿaqlī), three: The lowest grade is what exists by virtue of another (al-mawjūd bi’l-ghayr), that is, what is brought into
existence by something other than itself. Such an existent has an essence (dhāt) and an existence which is different from its essence,
as well as a bringer-into-existence (mūjid) which is
different from both. If the essence of such an existent is considered without
consideration of its bringer-into-existence, it is possible in fact (fī nafs al-amr)3 for its existence to be separated from
its essence, and without doubt it is also possible to
conceive (al-taṣawwur) of its existence as being separated from its essence, for both the
conceiving and the thing conceived (al-mutaṣawwar) are possible. Such is the status of contingent quiddities (al-māhiyyāt al-mumkinah), as is well known.
[2] The middle grade is what
exists by virtue of its essence (al-mawjūd bi’l-dhāt)
with an existence which is other than its essence, that is, an existent whose
essence completely necessitates its existence, such that it is impossible for
its existence to be separated from its essence. Such an existent has an
essence, and an existence which is different from its essence. Moreover, in
view of its essence, it is impossible for its existence to be separated from
its essence. Nevertheless, it is possible to conceive of this separation and,
although the thing conceived is absurd, its conception is possible. This is the
status of the Necessary Existent according to the position of the vast majority
of the theologians (jumhūr al-mutakallimīn).1
[3] The highest grade is
what exists by virtue of its essence with an existence that is identical with
it, that is, an existent whose existence is identical with its essence. Such an
existent does not have an existence that differs from its essence, nor is it
possible to conceive of the separation of its existence from it. Indeed, the
separation and the conception of separation are both impossible. Such is the
status of the Necessary Existent according to the position of the philosophers
(al-ḥukamāʾ).
[4] If you desire further
elucidation of what we have set forth, you may seek clarification of this
matter in the following example. The grades of a luminous object (al-muḍīʾ) insofar as it is luminous are also three. The first is what is
luminous by virtue of another (al-muḍīʾ
bi’l-ghayr), that is, what receives its luminosity
(ḍawʾ) from something else, like the surface of the earth which is illumined
when it faces the sun. In this case there is a luminous object, a luminosity
which is different from that object, and a third thing which produces the
luminosity.
[5] The second grade is what
is luminous by virtue of its essence (al-muḍīʾ
bi’l-dhāt) through a luminosity that is other than
it, that is, something whose essence necessitates its luminosity in such a way
that it cannot fail to appear. This is like the body of the sun on the
assumption that it necessitates its luminosity, for this luminous object has an
essence and a luminosity that is different from it.
[6] The third grade is what
is luminous by virtue of its essence through a luminosity that is identical
with it, like the luminosity of the sun, for it is luminous by virtue of its
essence, rather than by virtue of a luminosity additional to its essence. This
is the most exalted and most potent luminous object conceivable.
[7] Should it be asked: How
can luminosity be described as being luminous, since the meaning of what is
luminous, as initially understood, is something in which luminosity subsists?
We should answer: That is the meaning with which the common people are familiar
and for which the word luminous was coined in the [Arabic] language. Our
discussion is not concerned with that meaning, however. When we say that
luminosity is luminous by virtue of its essence (al-ḍawʾ muḍīʾ
bi-dhātihi) we do not mean by that that another
luminosity subsists in it and that it becomes luminous by virtue of that
luminosity. On the contrary what we mean by that is that what can be attributed
both to something which is luminous by virtue of another and to something which
is luminous by virtue of its own essence, although by means of a luminosity
that is other than its essence, namely, visibility (al-ẓuhūr) to the eyes due to the luminosity, can also be attributed to
luminosity [as it is] in itself in accordance with its own essence rather than
through something additional to its essence. Indeed, visibility in the case of
luminosity is stronger and closer to perfection, for luminosity is visible in
its essence with no [trace of] invisibility (khafāʾ) at all. Luminosity,
moreover, also makes visible what is other than itself in accordance with the
capacity of that other [to become visible].
[8] This
is because if Its existence were additional to Its reality (ḥaqīqah), it would be inherent (ʿāriḍ) in it.1 It has been said
that this is because of the impossibility of Its division (al-juzʾiyyah) since such division would imply composition (tarkīb)
in the essence of the Necessary Existent.2 This calls for
further discussion, however, for the composition which is impossible in the
Necessary Existent is external composition, since it implies being in need in
the external world, and that, in turn, implies contingency. As for mental
composition with respect to the Necessary Existent, we do not admit its
impossibility, because such composition does not imply being in need in the
external world, but only in the mind, and being in need in the mind does not
imply contingency, since the contingent is what is in need of what is other
than itself for its external existence.
[9] And if it were
inherent in it, [Its] existence, as it is in itself (min ḥayth huwa huwa), would be
in need of something other than itself, that is, in need of what it inheres in (al-maʿrūḍ).3 It would then be contingent by virtue of its essence and dependent upon
a cause (ʿillah). It would
therefore require an effector (muʾaththir), and if that
effector were identical with the reality [of the Necessary Existent], that
effector would have to exist before [its own] existence, since the cause which
brings a thing into existence must precede its effect in existence. Indeed, as long as the
intellect (al-ʿaql) is not cognizant that a thing exists, it is impossible
for it to be cognizant of it as a source (mabdaʾ) and bestower (mufīd) of existence. And thus that thing would have to exist before itself, and that is
absurd. If, on the other hand, the effector were
something other than the quiddity (māhiyyah) [of the
Necessary Existent], then the Necessary Existent by virtue of Its essence would
be in need of what is other than Itself for Its existence, and that is
impossible.
[10] The verifiers (al-muḥaqqiqūn)1
said: ‘Existence, while identical with the Necessary Existent, nevertheless has
expanded over the forms (hayākil) of existents and
has become manifest in them. Thus there is nothing at all that is without it.
Indeed, it is their reality (ḥaqīqah) and identity (ʿayn), for they have been distinguished from each other and made multiple
through qualifications and individuations that exist only in the mind (taqayyudāt wa-taʿayyunāt iʿtibāriyyah).’
Section [Three]: On [the proof] that [Its]
necessity of existence (wujūb al-wujūd)2 as well as Its
Individuation (taʿayyun) are
identical with Its essence.
[1] Should it be asked:3
‘How can the attribute of a thing be conceived as being identical with its
reality when both the attribute (al-ṣifah) and what it qualifies (al-mawṣūf) testify to their being different from each other?’ I should answer:
The meaning of their saying that the attributes of the Necessary Existent are
identical with Its essence is that ‘what results from the essence of the
Necessary Existent [alone] is what [in other cases] results from an essence and
an attribute combined.’
[2] To explain how the
Necessary Existent can be identical with [Its] knowledge (ʿilm) and power (qudrah) they said: ‘Your own
essence [for example] is not sufficient to reveal (inkishāf)
things and make them apparent (ẓuhūr) to you, for in
order for things to be revealed and made apparent to you, you must have the
attribute of knowledge subsisting in you. It is different in the case of the
essence of the Necessary Existent, however, for It is not in need of an
attribute subsisting in It in order for things to be revealed and made apparent
to It. On the contrary all concepts (mafhūmāt) are
revealed to It by reason of Its essence [alone], and in this regard Its essence
is the reality of knowledge (ḥaqīqat al-ʿilm). Such is also the case with respect to the power [of the Necessary
Existent], for Its essence is effective in itself (muʾaththirah
bi-dhātihā) rather than by means of an attribute
additional to it, as is the case with our own essences. When regarded in this
way the essence of the Necessary Existent is the reality of power (ḥaqīqat
al-qudrah), and accordingly the essence and
attributes of the Necessary Existent are really (fi’l-ḥaqīqah) united, although they differ from each other in accordance with the
manner in which they are regarded and understood (bi’l-iʿtibār
wa’l-mafhūm). Upon investigation, this [unity of
essence and attributes] is based on (marjiʿuhu) the denial of the Necessary Existent’s attributes along with [the
affirmation of] the occurrence (ḥuṣūl) of their effects and
fruits by virtue of Its essence alone.’
[3] As for the first1
it is because the necessity of existence, if it were additional to Its reality,
would be an effect of Its essence (maʾlūl li- dhātihi), in accordance with what was said
above.2 As long as the existence of a cause is not necessary, its existence is not
possible, and consequently it is impossible for its
effect to exist. And since that necessity [which is under consideration] is
necessity by virtue of its essence (al-wujūb bi’l-dhāt), that
necessity of existence by virtue of the essence would, necessarily, exist
before itself, and that is absurd.
[4] As for the second3
it is because Its individuation, if it were additional to Its reality, would be
an effect of Its essence, and as long as a cause is not individuated it does
not exist and so cannot bring into existence its effect. Therefore Its
individuation would be existence (ḥāṣil) before itself, and
that is absurd.
Section [Four]: On [the proof] for the
oneness (tawḥīd) of the
Necessary Existent.4
[1] If we suppose two necessarily existent
beings (mawjūdayn
wājibay al-wujūd), both would have necessity of
existence (wujūb
al-wujūd) in common but would differ with respect
to something else. That which served to distinguish them from each other would
either be the entire reality (ḥaqīqah) or not be [the
entire reality]. The first [alternative] is impossible because if the
distinction were with respect to the entire reality, then necessity of
existence, because it is common to both, would have to be external to the
reality of both. That is impossible because, as we have explained,5
necessity of existence is identical to the reality of the Necessary Existent.
[2] I say: Further
discussion is called for here, because the meaning of their assertion that
necessity of existence is identical with the reality of the Necessary Existent
is that the effect of the attribute of necessity of existence (athār ṣifat wujūb al-wujūd)
becomes manifest from that very reality, not that that reality is identical
with that attribute.6 Therefore, what is meant by two necessarily existent beings having
necessity of existence in common is merely that the effect of the attribute of
necessity [of existence] becomes manifest from each of them. Thus there is no
inconsistency (munāfāh) between their having
necessity of existence in common and their being distinguished from each other
with respect to the entire reality.
[3] The
second [alternative] is also impossible, because each one of them would then be
composed of what they had in common and what served to distinguish them from
one another, and, since everything that is composed is in need of something
other than itself, that is, its two parts, each would
therefore be contingent by virtue of its essence, and that is contrary
(hādhā khulf) [to what was assumed]. Here there is
also room for discussion, since it was previously mentioned1
that the composition which implies contingency is external composition (al-tarkīb al-khārijī) not mental (al-dhihnī)
[composition]. It has been objected: Why is it not possible for the distinction
[between the two] to be made by means of an accidental entity (amr ʿāriḍ) rather than by a constituent (muqawwim) [of
the essence], so that composition would not be implied [in the essence]? The
reply has been that that requires that the individuation [of the Necessary
Existent] be accidental, and that is contrary to what has been established by
demonstration.2 I say: It is possible to amend (tawjīh) the
author’s argument3 so that that [objection] cannot be directed against it by saying: If
what served to distinguish them from one another were not the entire reality,
then it would either be a part of the reality or an accident of it. In either
case each of the two [necessary existents] would have to be composed. In the
first case they would be composed of genus (jins) and
difference (faṣl), and in the second of reality (ḥaqīqah) and individuation (taʿayyun).
[4] One might argue that
what we have shown to the effect that the individuation of the Necessary
Existent is identical with Its reality4 is sufficient to prove Its unity,
because whenever individuation is identical with a quiddity (māhiyyah), the species (nawʿ) of that quiddity is
necessarily restricted to a [single] individual (shakhṣ). I should reply: This
calls for further discussion (fīhi naẓar), because what is intended by this proof is to show that the Necessary
Existent is a single reality (ḥaqīqah wāḥdah) whose individuation is identical with it. From what has been
mentioned previously, however, that proof is not conclusive (thābit) [for this purpose] because of the possibility of
there being [a number of] different necessarily existent realities each one of
which has an individuation identical with it. It is therefore necessary to
provide a [separate] proof for the unity [of the Necessary Existent].
Section [Five] On [the Proof] that the
Necessarily [Existent] by virtue of Its essence is necessary in all of Its
aspects
(jihāt), that is, It has no anticipated state not yet actualized (ḥālah muntaẓarah ghayr ḥāṣilah).1
[1]
This is because Its essence (dhāt) is sufficient with respect to the attributes it possesses, and It is
therefore necessary in all of Its aspects. We say that Its essence is
sufficient with respect to the attributes It possesses only because, were it
not sufficient, then some of Its attributes would be [derived] from another
being and the presence, that is, existence, of that other being
would be a cause
(ʿillah) in general (fi’l-jumlah) of that attribute’s
existence, and its absence, that is, its non-existence, would be a cause of the attribute’s non-existence. If such were the
case, Its essence, considered as it is in itself (min ḥayth hiya hiya), and unconditioned by the presence or
absence of that other being, would not be
necessarily existent.
[2] This
is because [if It were] necessarily existent, it would be so either with the
existence (wujūd) of that attribute or with its
non-existence (ʿadam). If It were necessarily existent with the
existence of that attribute, its existence, that is, the existence of
the attribute, would not be because of the presence of
another being,2 because the attribute’s existence would [already] be established in
the essence of the Necessary [Existent] as it is in itself without
consideration of the presence of another being. If, on the
other hand, It were necessarily existent with the non-existence of that
attribute, the non-existence of the attribute would not be because of the
absence of another being,3 because the attribute’s non-existence
would [already] be established in the essence of the Necessary [Existent] as it
is in itself without consideration of the absence of another being. Here there
is room for further discussion (hāhunā baḥth), however, since the non-existence of something does not follow simply
from its not being taken into consideration.
[3] Thus,
if it, that is, the essence of the Necessary [Existent], were not necessarily existent unconditionally (bi-lā sharṭ),4 then
the Necessarily [Existent] by virtue of Its essence would not be necessarily
[existent] by virtue of Its essence, and that is absurd. This [argument]
can be refuted, however, by [applying it to] the relations [of the Necessary
Existent], since it is applicable to such relations also, even though the
essence of the Necessary [Existent] is not sufficient to bring them into
existence, for they depend necessarily on matters which are separate and
distinct from Its essence.
[4] It has been said that
the best way of proving this point is to say: Everything which is possible (mumkin) for the Necessary [Existent] in the way of
attributes is necessitated by Its essence (yūjibuhu dhātuhu).
Everything which is necessitated by Its essence is necessarily actualized (wājib al-ḥuṣūl).1
As for the major premise, it is obvious. As for the minor premise, it is true
because if it were not, then the necessity of existence of some of the
attributes would be by virtue of something other than the essence. And if that
other were necessary by virtue of its essence, what is necessarily existent
would be more than one.
[5] On the other hand, if
that other were contingent, either it would be necessitated by the essence, in
which case the essence would be the necessitator of those attributes we had
assumed it did not necessitate, since the necessitator of a necessitator is
also a necessitator, or that other would not be [necessitated by the essence],
in which case it would be necessitated by some second necessitator (mūjib thānī), and the argument would be transferred to it.
Either the chain of necessitators would regress to infinity, or else it would
end with a necessitator necessitated by the essence, and that would be in
contradiction to what had been assumed. The gist of this (al-ḥāṣil) is that if the essence did not necessitate all of the attributes,
then one of these impossibilities would result: either the multiplicity of the
Necessary [Existent] (taʿaddud al-wājib),2 or an infinite regress (al-tasalsul), or the
contradiction of what had been assumed (khilāf al-mafrūḍ).3 Therefore the
essence [of the Necessary Existent] is the necessitator of all Its attributes,
and the question is proven. I say: There is room here for further discussion,
for if this were the case, then every contingent would exist from eternity (qadīman) regardless of whether it was an attribute of the
Necessary [Existent] or not.
Section [Six]: On [the proof] that the
Necessarily [Existent] by virtue of Its essence does not share Its Existence
with contingents.
That is, absolute existence (al-wujūd al-muṭlaq) is not a specific
nature (ṭabīʿah nawʿiyyah) both for an existence which is identical with the Necessary
[Existent] as well as for the existences of contingent beings (wujūdāt al-mumkināt).4 On the contrary
absolute existence is predicated accidentally (qawlan ʿaraḍīyan) of contingents by analogy (bi’l-tashkīk).5
[1] This is because if It
shared Its existence with contingents in the way mentioned, then absolute
existence as it is in itself would be either necessarily independent (al-tajarrud) of quiddities,1 or necessarily not independent (al-lā-tajarrud) [of quiddities],2
or neither the one or the other, and all three are impossible.
[2] If it were
necessarily independent, then the existence[s] of all contingents would have to
be independent of, rather than inherent in, quiddities, because what is required
by a specific nature (muqtaḍā al-ṭabīʿah al-nawʿiyyah) does not differ [from
one instance of the species to another]. This3
is absurd because we can conceive of a seven-sided figure (al-musabbaʿ)4 while doubting its
external existence.5 It would be appropriate
to drop this restriction [to external existence] since the discussion is
concerned with absolute existence, which includes both mental (dhihnī)
and external (khārijī) existence. Thus
if its existence were the same as its reality (ḥaqīqah) or a part of it,6
then a single thing would at the same time (fī ḥālah wāḥidah) be both known and
unknown,7 and that is impossible.
[3] It would be more
appropriate to say: because we can conceive of a seven-sided figure and be
unaware of its existence. Thus if its existence were the same as its reality or
a part of it, then a single thing would at the same time be both known and
unknown. Or one could say: because we can conceive of a seven-sided figure
while doubting its existence. Thus if its existence were the same as its
reality, doubt would not be possible, since it is evident (bayyin)
that a thing can [always] be predicated of itself. The case would be similar if
existence were an essential attribute (dhātī) of its
reality, because it is evident that an essential attribute can [always] be
predicated of that [reality] of which it is an essential attribute. You are
aware, of course, that all of this can only be the case if the quiddity is
conceived in its true essence (bi’l-kunh).
[4] If, on the other
hand, absolute existence were necessarily not independent [of quiddities], then
the existence of the Creator (wujūd al-Bārīʾ) would not be
independent
(mujarrad) [of a quiddity] which is absurd. If it
were neither necessarily independent nor necessarily not independent, then it
would be possible for it to be either one or the other, but by virtue of a
cause. In that case the Necessary Existent would be in need of what is other
than Itself for Its independence, and Its Essence (dhāt) would not
be sufficient [in causing] what It has in the way of attributes. That is absurd. This is what people are
currently saying on this topic.
[5]
One of the verifiers (baʿḍ al-muḥaqqiqīn) has said:1 ‘Every concept (mafhūm) which is other than
existence, as, for example, the concept “humanity”, does not exist at all in
fact (fī nafs al-amr)2 as long as existence
has not been conjoined with it in some way. Moreover, as long as the mind has not
observed that existence has been conjoined with it, it cannot make the judgment
that it exists. Thus every concept other than existence is in need of what is
other than itself, namely, existence, in order to exist in fact. And everything
which is in need of what is other than itself in order to exist is contingent,
for there is no meaning to contingent except that which is in need of what is
other than itself in order to exist. Thus, every concept which is other than
existence is contingent, and nothing that is contingent is necessary. It
follows that no concepts which are other than existence are necessary.
[6] ‘It has been
demonstrated, moreover, that the Necessary [Existent] exists. It cannot but be
identical with that existence that exists by virtue of its own essence rather
than by virtue of something that is other than its essence. Moreover, since it
is necessary that the Necessary [Existent] be a real and self-subsistent
particular (juzʾī ḥaqīqī
qāʾim bi-dhātihi) and that
Its individuation (taʿayyun) be by virtue of Its essence not by virtue of something additional to
Its essence, it is necessary that existence also be like that, since existence
is identical with the Necessary Existent. Therefore, existence is not a
universal concept (mafhūm kullī) comprising
individuals (afrād). On the contrary, it is in itself
(fī ḥadd dhātihi) a real
particular with no possibility of becoming multiple or of being divided. It is
self-subsistent and free (munazzah) from being
inherent in what is other than it. Therefore, the Necessary [Existent] is
Absolute Existence, that is, existence free (muʿarrā) of any limitation (taqyīd) by, or
conjunction (inḍimām) with, what is other than It.
[7] ‘On the basis of
foregoing, one cannot conceive of existence as inhering in contingent
quiddities (al-māhiyyah al-mumkinah). What is meant
by a contingent quiddity’s being existent is merely that is has a special
relation (nisbah makhṣūṣah) to the Presence of the Self-Subsistent Existence (ḥaḍrat
al-wujud al-qāʾim bi-dhātihi). This relation
has different aspects and various modes whose quiddities are difficult to
detect. Thus what exists (al-mawjūd) is universal (kullī) even though existence (al-wujūd)
is particular and real (juzʾī ḥaqīqī).’ A certain learned man said: We used to hear him say that this was
the doctrine of the verifying philosophers (al-ḥukamāʾ al-muḥaqqiqīn), the earlier ones as well as the later.’
Appendix
Translation of al-Abharī’s Original Text
Chapter Two
On Knowledge of the Creator (al-Ṣāniʿ) and His Attributes
Section [One] On the Proof (ithbāt) for the Necessarily [Existent] by Virtue of Its
Essence (al-wājib li-dhātihi). The Necessarily
[Existent] by virtue of Its essence, if considered as It is in Itself (min ḥaythu huwa huwa), is
that which does not accept non-existence (al-ʿadam). In proof of this (burhānuhu) one may say
that if there were not in existence an existent which was necessary by virtue
of its essence, then an impossibility would result. This is because all
existents would then constitute a totality (jumlah)
made up of individuals (āḥād) each one of which would be contingent by virtue of its essence (mumkin li-dhātihi). Therefore it would need an external
cause to bring it into existence (ʿillah mūjidah khārijiyyah). And the knowledge of this is self-evident (badīhī).
Moreover, an existent which was external to all contingents would be necessary
by virtue of its essence. Thus, the existence of what is necessarily existent (wājib al-wujūd) follows from the assumption of its non-existence,
and that is absurd.
Section [Two] On [the Proof]
that the Necessary Existent’s Existence is the Same as Its Reality (ḥaqīqah). This is because if Its existence were additional to Its reality (ḥaqīqah), it would be inherent (ʿāriḍ) in it. And if it were inherent in it, [Its] existence, as it is in
itself (min ḥayth huwa huwa), would
be in need of something other than itself. It would then be contingent by
virtue of its essence and dependent upon a cause (ʿillah). It would therefore require an effector (muʾaththir), and if that effector were identical with the reality [of the
Necessary Existent], that effector would have to exist before [its own]
existence, since the cause which brings a thing into existence must precede its
effect in existence. And thus that thing would have to exist before itself, and
that is absurd. If, on the other hand, the effector were something other than
the quiddity (māhiyyah) [of the Necessary Existent],
then the Necessary Existent by virtue of Its essence would be in need of what
is other than Itself for Its existence, and that is impossible.
Section [Three] On [the
Proof] that [Its] Necessity of Existence (wujūb al-wujūd)
as well as Its Individuation (taʿayyun) are Identical with Its Essence. As for the first it is because the
necessity of existent, if it were additional to Its reality, would be an effect
of Its essence (maʿlūl li-dhātihi). As long as the existence of a cause is not necessary, it is
impossible for its effect to exist. And since that necessity [which is under
consideration] is necessity by virtue of the essence (al-wujūb
bi’l-dhāt), that necessity of existence by virtue of the essence would
exist before itself, and that is absurd. As for the second it is because Its
individuation, if it were additional to Its reality, would be an effect of Its
essence, and as long as a cause is not individuated it does not exist and so
cannot bring into existence its effect. Therefore Its individuation would be
existent (ḥāṣil) before itself, and
that is absurd.
Section [Four] on [the
Proof] for the Oneness (tawḥīd) of the Necessary Existent. If we suppose two necessarily existent
beings (mawjūdayn wājibay al-wujūd), both would have
necessity of existence (wujūb al-wujūd) in common but
would differ with respect to something else. That which served to distinguish
them from each other would either be the entire reality (ḥaqīqah) or not be [the entire reality]. The first [alternative] is impossible
because if the distinction were with respect to the entire reality, then
necessity of existence would have to be external to the reality of both. That
is impossible because, as we have explained, necessity of existence is
identical to the reality of the Necessary Existent.
The second [alternative] is
also impossible, because each one of them would then be composed of what they
had in common and what served to distinguish them from one another, and, since
everything that is composed is in need of something other than itself, each
would therefore be contingent by virtue of its essence, and that is contrary (hādhā khulf) [to what is assumed].
Section [Five] On [the
Proof] that the Necessarily [Existent] by Virtue of Its Essence is Necessary in
All of Its Aspects (jihāt). This is because Its
Essence (dhāt) is sufficient with respect to the
attribute it possesses, and It is therefore necessary in all of Its aspects. We
say that Its essence is sufficient with respect to the attributes It possesses
only because, were it not sufficient, then some of Its attribute would be
[derived] from another being and the presence of that other being would be a
cause (ʿillah) in general (fi’l-jumlah)
of that attribute’s existence, and its absence would be a cause of the
attribute’s non-existence. If such were the case, Its Essence, considered as it
is in Itself (min ḥayth hiya hiya) would not be necessarily existent.
This is because [if It were]
necessarily existent, it would be so either with the existence (wujūd) of that attribute of with its non-existence (ʿadam). If It were necessarily existent with the existence of that
attribute, its existence would not be because of the presence of another being.
If, on the other hand, It were necessarily existent with the non-existence of
that attribute, the non-existence of the attribute would not be because of the
absence of another being. Thus, if it were not necessarily existent
unconditionally (bi-lā sharṭ), then the Necessarily [Existent] by virtue
of Its essence would not be necessarily [existent] by virtue of Its essence,
and that is absurd.
Section [Six] on [the Proof]
that the Necessarily [Existent] by Virtue of Its Essence does not Share Its
Existence with Contingents. This is because if It shared Its existence with
contingents, then existence as it is in itself would be either necessarily
independent (al-tajarrud) or necessarily not
independent (al-lā-tajarrud) [of quiddities], or
neither the one or the other, and all three are impossible. If it were
necessarily independent, then the existence[s] of all contingents would have to
be independent of, rather than inherent in, quiddities. This is absurd because we can conceive of a seven-sided figure (al-musabbaʿ) while doubting its external existence. Thus if its existence were the
same as its reality (ḥaqīqah) or a part of it,
then a single thing would at the same time (fī ḥālah
wāḥidah) be both known and
unknown, and that is impossible.
If, on the other hand,
absolute existence were necessarily not independent [of quiddities], then the
existence of the Creator (wujūd al-Bāriʾ) would not be
independent (mujarrad) [of a quiddity], which is
absurd. If it were neither necessarily independent nor necessarily not
independent, then it would be possible for it to be either one or the other,
but by virtue of a cause. In that case the Necessary Existent would be in need
of what is other than Itself for Its independence, and Its essence (dhāt) would not be sufficient [in causing] what It has in
the way of attributes. That is absurd.
1. Passages in italic are from
the original text so as to distinguish them from the Commentary; the complete
original text is appended at the end of the translation.
2. That is, that being which
exists necessarily by virtue of its own essence rather than by virtue of some
cause external to its essence. The adjectival phrase wājib
al-wujūd li-dhātihi has been translated throughout as ‘necessarily
existent by virtue of its essence’. Similarly, the nominal phrase al-wājib li-dhātihi has been translated as ‘the Necessarily
[Existent] by virtue of Its essence’, and the noun al-wājib
has been translated as ‘the Necessary [Existent]’.
There are a number of words in Arabic which have the general meaning of
‘essence’. To avoid confusion dhāt has been
translated as ‘essence’, māhiyyah as ‘quiddity’, ḥaqīqah as ‘reality’, and ṭabīʿah as ‘nature’.
3. The proof which follows is
essentially the same as the one given by Ibn Sīnā in both al-Najāt
and al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt. See p. 235 of al-Najāt, and vol. III, pp. 20–28 of al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt. An analysis of Ibn Sīnā’s proof is given by Herbert Davidson
in his Proofs for Eternity, Creation and the Existence of
God in Medieval Islamic and Jewish Philosophy, pp. 281–310.
4. That is, that the cause must
be external to the totality.
1. That is, the reason the
cause of the totality cannot be one of the parts of the totality.
2. In other words, if one part
of the totality were the cause of the remaining parts of the totality, that
part would not be the cause of the totality but only of the remaining parts.
For that part to be the cause of the totality it would also have to be the
cause of itself in addition to being the cause of the other parts. But if it
were the cause of itself it would be necessarily existent rather than
contingent. Since all the parts of the totality are by definition contingent,
the cause of the totality, being necessarily existent, could not be one of its
parts but, on the contrary, would have to be external to it.
3. Since, unlike all the other
parts, it is not also a cause.
4. That is, al-Sayyid al-Sharīf
ʿAlī
ibn Muḥammad al-Jurjānī (d. 816/1413), the author of a commentary on
the Kitāb al-Mawāqif of ʿAḍud al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān ibn Aḥmad al-Ījī. See Brockelmann, Geschichte, II, 269, Supplement II, 289. His son, Muḥammad, wrote a commentary on Hidāyat al-ḥikmah entitled Ḥall
al-hidāyah.
See Āghā Buzurg, al-Dharīʿah, VII, 77.
5. And therefore necessarily
existent contrary to what had been assumed.
6. That is, that it is possible
for the totality to be dependent on many causes as proposed in paragraph 3.
7. That is, infinite regress.
1. According to ʿAbd al-Ḥakīm, one of the glossators
of al-Maybudī’s text, the reason it is not pertinent is because it requires
proofs for the impossibility of both the vicious circle and the endless chain,
and al-Abharī’s intent was to prove the existence of the Necessary Existent
without relying on such proofs. See the margin of p. 167 of the Tehran
lithograph edition of 1331.
2. As stated in paragraph 1
above.
3. The literal meaning of fī nafs al-amr is ‘in the matter itself ’ or ‘in the thing
itself ’. Things can be said to exist in the external world of time and space, fi’l-khārij, in the mind, fi’l-dhihn,
or in the thing itself, fī nafs al-amr, that is, in
fact. In the introduction to his commentary al-Maybudī makes the following
statement: ‘The meaning of a thing’s being existent in the matter itself is
that it is existent in itself. ‘Matter’ (al-amr) is
the same as ‘thing’ (al-shayʾ). The upshot of this is that
its existence is not dependent on anyone’s supposition (farḍ) or consideration (iʿtibār). For example, the connection
between the rising of the sun and the existence of daylight is [something that
is] realized in itself regardless of whether or not anyone exists to suppose
it, and regardless of whether or not anyone does suppose it. [Existence in] the
thing itself (nafs al-amr) is more inclusive (aʾamm) than [existence in] the external
world (al-khārij), for every existent in the external
world exists in the thing itself, with no universal converse being possible (bi-lā ʿaks kullī). Existence in the thing
itself is also more inclusive than [existence in] the mind, but in only a
certain respect, for it is possible to conceive of false propositions (kawādhib), such as the evenness of the number five, which
can exist in the mind but not in the thing itself. Such propositions are called
hypothetical mental [propositions] (dhihnī farḍī). The evenness of the number
four, on the other hand, exists in both the thing itself as well as in the
mind, and such propositions are called real mental [propositions] (dhihnī ḥaqīqī).’ (See p. 5 of the Istanbul
printing of 1321, p. 5 also in the Istanbul printing of 1325, and p. 10 in the
Tehran lithograph of 1331.) In summary one may say that all things that exist
in the external world also exist in the thing itself, that is, in fact. Some
things that exist in the mind, such as real concepts and true propositions and
theories, also exist in fact as well as in the mind. Imaginary concepts and
false propositions, however, exist only in the mind and never in fact. Further
discussion of this subject may be found in al-Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr
al-ʿulamāʾ, III, 370–372 (under al-mawjūd), and al-Taḥānawī, Kashshāf,
pp. 1403–1404 (under nafs al-amr), and pp. 1456–1461
(under al-wujūd).
1. For the position of the
theologians see, for example, al-Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-maqāṣid, I, 48–50, and al-Jurjānī, Sharḥ al-mawāqif, II, 156–169.
1. al-Abharī’s argument in this
and the following paragraph is similar to the argument given by Ibn Sīnā in
several of his works. See al-Shifāʾ, al-Ilāhiyyāt,
pp. 344–347; al-Ishārāt wa’l-tanbīhāt, III, 30–40; Dānishnāmah, Ilāhiyyāt, pp. 76–77 (Morewedge trans. pp.
55–56); and al-Risālah al-ʿarshiyyah, p. 4 (Arberry trans. pp.
27–28).
2. That is, the essence of the
Necessary Existent would be composed of a reality and of a separate existence
which inhered in the reality as an accident.
3. Namely, the reality of the
Necessary Existent.
1. According to Mīr Hāshim, one
of the glossators of al-Maybudī’s commentary, these are the Sufis. See the
Tehran lithograph edition of 1331, p. 169. The passage which follows is quoted
from al-Jurjānī’s Ḥāshiyat sharḥ al-tajrīd, fol. 63b, and represents
the doctrine of the waḥdat
al-wujūd,
or unity of existence, school of Sufism founded by Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240). See
Brockelmann, Geschichte, I, 571, Supplement I, 790.
Another passage from the same work is quoted in section 6, paragraphs 5–6.
2. That is, the necessity of
the existence of the Necessary Existent.
3. Most of this paragraph and
the next are quoted from al-Jurjānī’s Sharḥ
al-mawāqif,
VIII, 47.
1. That is, the necessity of
Its existence.
2. In paragraphs 8 and 9 of
section 2, which deal with the question of whether existence is additional to
the essence of the Necessary Existent.
3. That is, Its individuation.
4. The argument that follows is
similar to the argument of Ibn Sīnā in al-Shifāʾ,
al-Ilāhiyyāt, pp. 43, 349–354; Dānishnāmah, Ilāhiyyāt, pp.
75–76 (Morewedge trans. pp. 54–55); and al-Risālah al-ʿarshiyyah, p. 3 (Arberry trans. pp.
25–26); and al-Najāt, pp. 230–231.
5. In section 3, paragraph 2
above.
6. See the quotation from
al-Jurjānī in section 3, paragraphs 1 and 2.
1. In section 2, paragraph 8.
2. Namely, that the
individuation of the Necessary Existent is identical with Its essence. See
section 3, paragraph 4 above.
3. As given at the beginning of
this paragraph.
4. In section 3, paragraph 4.
1. Ibn Sīnā’s arguments for
this proposition may be found in Dānishnāmah, Ilāhiyyāt,
p. 76 (Morewedge trans. pp. 55–56); al-Najāt, pp.
228–229 and al-Risālah al-ʿarshiyyah, p. 5 (Arberry trans. pp.
28–29).
2. Contrary to what was stated
in paragraph 1 above.
3. Again, contrary to what was
stated in paragraph 1 above.
4. As stated in the last
sentence in paragraph 1 above.
1. And therefore, everything
which is possible for the Necessary [Existent] is necessarily actualized.
2. As shown above in paragraph
4.
3. As shown above in the
previous sentence.
4. That is, absolute existence
is not a class which includes both the existence of the Necessary Existent as
well as the individual existences of contingent beings.
5. Rather than univocally.
1. Like the existence of the
Necessary Existent, whose existence does not inhere in Its reality or quiddity
but is the same as Its reality.
2. Like the existences of
contingent beings, whose existences inhere in quiddities.
3. That is, that the existences
of all contingents would have to be independent of quiddities.
4. According to the commentary
of Ṣadr
al-Dīn Shīrāzī what is meant is a solid figure enclosed by seven equal plane surfaces
(al-jism al-muḥāṭ bi-sabʿat suṭūḥ
mutasāwiyah), i.e., a heptahedron. See p. 300 of his Sharḥ hidāyat
al-ḥikmah.
5. And we can therefore infer
that its existence inheres in its quiddity and is not independent of it.
6. That is, independent rather
than inherent in its reality.
7. That is, if the quiddity of
the seven-sided figure were the same as its existence, and the quiddity were
known, but its existence were unknown, then a single thing (the quiddity and
its existence) would be both known and unknown.
1. This and the following two
paragraphs are quoted from al-Sayyid al-Sharīf al-Jurjānī’s Ḥāshiyat
sharḥ al-tajrīd, fols. 62b–63a. Like the
passage quoted previously from al-Jurjānī in section 2, paragraph 10, this
passage represents the doctrine of the waḥdat
al-wujūd
school of Sufism. The passage is quoted in a number of other works as well.
See, for example, al-Qūshjī, Sharḥ al-tajrīd, p. 61; Rāghib Bāshā, al-Lumʿah, pp. 11–12; al-Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamāʾ, III, 443–444 (under al-wujūd).
2. See note 3 of p. 271 above.
Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī
Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad Rāzī Būyahī known also as Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī was born in the village of
Varāmīn near Tehran. The date of his birth is not known but he died in Damascus
in 776/1374. Virtually no record remains of the life of this major and prolific
figure, who was recognized both as a philosopher and as a logician. His
commentaries on the texts of al-Shamsiyyah and al-Maṭāliʿ were the reason for his fame as a logician and his major work, al-Muḥākamāt, in which he
discusses the perspectives of Nasīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and Imam Fakhr Rāzī, gained him
recognition as a philosopher.
What we do know about him is
mostly based on brief references made to him by a few biographers. Tāj Subkī in
his work Ṭabaqāt al-shāfiʿiyyah describes him as ‘a learned master in intellectual sciences whose fame
had spread to distant lands. He arrived in Damascus in 763/1361; we found him
to be a leader in logic and philosophy and knowledgeable in tafsīr
(Quʾrānic
interpretation), rhetoric and grammar and intelligence was exuding from him.’
Suyūṭī in Ṭabaqāt
al-Najāt said, ‘he was one of the leaders of the
intellectual sciences who had learned from ʿAḍudī and others.’ Muḥammad ibn Makkī, known as al-Shahīd al-awwal
(the First Martyr), also confirmed these accounts and after he met with Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī he said,
‘he was a vast sea of knowledge who would not dry up … undoubtedly he was an
Imamī Shiʿa and I heard him assert that he was a Shiʿa and his attachment to the household of the
Prophet is clear.’ The same author tells us that he was the special student of ʿAllāmah Ḥillī. Among his other
teachers were ʿAḍud al-Dīn Ījī, who was a theologian. It is therefore plausible that Quṭb al-Dīn had studied kalām with him.
Among his works we can
mention his commentary on a text on logic by Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī, entitled Sharḥ shamsiyyah. His other works include Sharḥ al-maṭāliʿ, Sharḥ al-ḥāwī,
Sharḥ al-ishārāt of Ibn Sīnā, Baḥr al-ṣadaf which is a
commentary on tafsīr, Tuḥfat al-ashrāf, his major work on philosophy al-Muḥākamāt,
Sharḥ qawāʿid al-aḥkām, a commentary on ʿAllāmah Ḥillī’s work on jurisprudence and a treatise
entitled Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq, perhaps named after Ṭūsī’s famous work of the same title.
In this chapter, we have
included a section of Rāzī’s Taṣawwur
wa’l- taṣdīq (Conception and
Judgment). This text is primarily on epistemology, in which the author
discusses how conceptions are formed in the mind and investigates the
affirmative and negative nature of the propositions that address the content of
the mind. Referring to Ibn Sīnā as ‘the Shaykh’, Rāzī begins a series of
enquiries about propositions and what Ibn Sīnā and Ṭūsī have said in that regard. Knowledge,
certainty, proof and verifiability are among the themes that run through the
entire treatise. Rāzī concluded this treatise by affirming that Ibn Sīnā’s
views in this regard were valid and authoritative.
M. Aminrazavi
al-Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq
Translated for this volume by Majid Fakhry
from Quṭb
al-Dīn Rāzī, Risālat al-Taṣawwur wa’l-taṣdīq, ed. Mahdī Sharīʿatī (Qum, 1416/1995), pp. 92–128.
In the Name of God, the Merciful, the
Compassionate
Preface
This is an epistle, seeking to elucidate
the meaning of ‘conception’ (taṣawwur) and ‘assent’ (taṣdīq)1 and to give their definitions, which I have written for some of my
friends, trusting in the Almighty Source of Truth and Veracity.
Chapter 1
Basis of the Distinction between Conception and
Assent
You should know that knowledge (ʿilm), which is the basis of the division into conception and assent,
consists in that renewed knowledge, which is not reducible to mere presence, as
is the case with the knowledge of the Almighty Creator, the knowledge of
abstract entities in themselves and our own knowledge of ourselves. Otherwise,
knowledge could not consist exclusively in conception and assent; since
conception consists in the form of the object existing in the mind, while
assent presupposes that conception. Knowledge of presence2 does not consist in
conceiving a certain form.
In fact, renewed knowledge
of things which are absent can only be achieved by conceiving their forms. For,
if nothing new arises in us in consequence of something else disappearing, the
stated, knowledge and what precedes it would be identical, which is absurd.
Now, if something
disappears, then what disappears upon our knowledge of this
is clearly other than that which disappears upon our knowledge of that; otherwise our knowledge of the one would be the same
as our knowledge of the other. It follows that there are in us an infinite
number of things equivalent to our knowledge of infinite objects, such as
figures or consecutive numbers. Those things existing in us would then be
simultaneous and consecutive. Otherwise, the larger number, for
instance, would not presuppose the smaller, since the existence of the smaller
necessitates the non-existence of the larger. Thus, if the non-existence of one
and two and the cause of their non-existence exist actually in us, then the non-existence
of infinite numbers would exist in us also. However, the falsity of this
proposition has been shown in philosophy.1
It is clear from the above
that knowledge is a matter of acquisition, rather than nullification; and since
knowledge as a matter of acquisition, rather than nullification, is a matter
which we find in ourselves, it follows that it does not call for a proof.
Moreover, what is given upon
the knowledge of one of two objects of knowledge is other than that which is
given upon the knowledge of another object of knowledge, preceding it. It
follows that there must exist in the mind something corresponding to the object
known, which is knowledge thereof rather than of something else. This is the
meaning of saying that the form of the thing is in the mind.
It is also necessary that
that knowledge be more general than being corresponding to what is in the
object itself or not, affirmative or not. It would then include all varieties
of conception and assent. For in logic, universal and comprehensive notions are
sought, as well as the five arts.2
Chapter 2
On Conception
Conception has been interpreted in a
variety of way. One is that it consists in the form of the object existing in
the mind. In that sense, it is equivalent to knowledge as such. The other is
that it consists in the form of the object existing in the mind only, which
admits of two interpretations. One is the existence of the form of the object,
with reference to the absence of assent; the other is the existence of the form
of the object without reference to judgment. This interpretation is more
general than the former; because it entails that it3 can co-exist with
judgment, which is more specific than the other interpretation, which entails
that it cannot co-exist with judgment.
Chapter 3
On Assent
Assent has been interpreted in a variety
of ways. The first, which is attributed to the philosophers, is that it
consists in judgment, which has been interpreted in three ways. The first is
that it consists in one thing affecting the other, affirmatively or negatively. The second is that it is a form of relation,
rather than attachment, whereas knowledge is a passion.1 The third is that it
consists in the soul conceiving that the relation exists or does not exist.
The second interpretation
(of assent) is that it consists in the sum-total of our conceptions of what is
judged, what it is judged with, the relation and the judgment itself.2
This is the view of the Imam (Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī).
The third interpretation is
that it consists in a conception accompanied by a judgment. Conception would
then be a form of assent, provided it is accompanied by judgment. This is the
view of the author of Maṭāliʿ
al-anwār (The Rising of the Lights)3
and others. He may have intended to give the view of al-Imam (Fakhr al-Dīn).
The fourth is that it
consists in the soul’s assent to the intent of the proposition and consenting
to it. This is other than saying that the intent of the proposition exists in
the soul, but rather something else concurrent with it, which is the form of
consenting to it; namely, that the notion which exists in the soul corresponds
to what the thing is in reality. This consent is more general than
correspondence to what the thing is in itself or not. For belief in correspondence
does not necessarily mean that the thing believed actually corresponds to what
the thing is in itself.
Chapter 4
What the Shaykh4 Held in al-Mūjaz al-kabīr (The Great Summary)
This (last) interpretation accords with what
the Shaykh held. For, he states in al-Mūjaz al-kabīr, in the first chapter of the
third treatise on demonstration, literally that knowledge is of two types: one
is assent, the other is conception. Conception consists in that the meaning of
the term arises in the soul, which differs from the fact that there arises with
it in the soul the meaning of a proposition which the soul assents to. Rather,
when the meaning of a proposition is grasped by the soul, this entails that it
is either an object of doubt, affirmation or denial. In all three cases,
conception would have already taken place in the form of the meaning existing
in the soul. As for doubt and denial, they are not objects of assent.
Affirmation, which is a synonym of assent, differs from the fact that the
meaning of the proposition is grasped by the soul; it is something else
concurrent with it and consisting in the form of consenting to it. For, the
meaning which arises in the soul corresponds to what the thing is in itself, so
that the meaning of the grasped proposition, insofar as it is conceived in the
soul, is not the same as the meaning of an intelligible proposition, but rather
another occurring in the soul.
From
the words of the Shaykh (i.e. Ibn Sīnā), it is clear that conception denotes
the grasping of the meaning of the expression by the soul unconditionally,
whether that meaning is simple or composite; regardless of whether that
composite is a proposition, a command, a prohibition, an admonition, a relation,
a judgment or something else.
A proposition is more
general than the fact of its being acceptable or unacceptable. An acceptable
proposition is one which is the object of assent, and assent has another
meaning conjoined to the meaning of the proposition and consisting in the
soul’s concurrence with the meaning of the proposition which is assented to,
affirmed or accepted. By consent is meant that the meaning which is grasped by
the soul conforms with what the thing is in reality. This is more general than
the fact that that meaning conforms with reality itself or not. For, the soul’s
consent to a meaning, regarded as corresponding to reality as such does not
entail that it actually corresponds with reality as such; correspondence being
one thing and consenting to correspondence being something else. Thus, assent
in this sense does not conflict with sophistry or other arts.
Everybody agrees that a
proposition is a statement whose utterer may be told: ‘You have said the truth,
or you have lied.’ Now, truth and falsity may be predicated of a proposition,
when the relation is part of it, otherwise they are not. It follows that assent
is not the same thing as judgment, as recent scholars have contended, ascribing
that to the (ancient) philosophers. Assent is then a form of consenting to the
relation,1 and thus the term assent is applied to judgment figuratively.
This is how the reality of
conception and assent should be understood, so that the doubts raised in their
regard may be rebutted.
Chapter 5
The Shaykh’s Words in al-Shifāʾ2
The proof of what we said regarding assent
is this statement of the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) in al-Shifāʾ, in the third chapter of the
First Article of the First Part of the general statement of the Introduction to
Logic: ‘A thing is known in two ways; the first is to be merely conceived; so
that, if it happens to have a name which is uttered, its meaning is represented
in the mind, regardless of truth or falsity; just as we say “man” or “do that”.
For, once you have grasped the meaning of what you have been told, you would
have conceived it.
‘The Second is for
conception to be accompanied by assent. Thus, if, for instance, someone says to
you: “Every white colour is an accident”, you will not have a conception of the
meaning of this statement only, but you will assent to it as well. However, if
you doubt that this is the case, you would have still conceived what is said;
since you cannot doubt what you do not conceive or
understand; but you have not assented to it yet. Thus, every assent is
accompanied by a conception; but the converse is not true. Conception in this
sense entails that the form of this composition1 and what is
composed, such as whiteness and accident, arise in the mind. Assent, on the
other hand, consists in the fact that the relation of this form to the things
themselves, as conforming to them, has arisen in the mind; while denial is the
opposite of this.’2
Chapter 6
al-Abharī’s Words on the Subject of Clarifying
Thoughts
You should know that the eminent Athīr al-Dīn
Abharī has stated in the preface of this book, Classifying
Thoughts,3 that knowledge is the act of grasping the form of the thing by the
mind. It consists either of conception, such as conceiving the meaning of the
word ‘man’, or conception accompanied by assent; as happens when we conceive
the meaning of the statement ‘man is an animal’, and then assent to it. Thus,
conception consists in the concept of both terms, together with their
composition, arising in the mind; whereas assent consists in the conformity of
the form of this composition with the things themselves arising in the mind.4
I say his (al-Abharī’s)
interpretation of assent corresponds fully to the Shaykh’s (Ibn Sīnā’s)
interpretation. For, he (Ibn Sīnā) says that the occurrence of both terms,
together with their composition—that is the meaning of the proposition in the
mind, is called conception; whereas assent consists in the form of this
conformity with the things themselves occurring in the mind. This corresponds
to the interpretation of consenting to the meaning of the proposition as given
by the Shaykh. It corresponds to his words: ‘Then we assented to it’; that is,
consented to it. He was criticized by the ‘Master of all Scholars’, Khwājah Naṣīr al-Millah wa’l-Dīn.5
God have mercy on him. In commenting on al- Tanzīl,6
he says: as for his statement, ‘then we assented to it’, he must mean by it the
same as his interpretation of the form of this composition in the mind as
conforming with the things themselves. Then, the meaning of his words, ‘[then
we assented to it’, would be that the form of this composition has arisen in
our mind; but what is understood by his statement],7 our conceiving the
meaning of the words, ‘man is an animal’, is identical with the occurrence of
this composite in our mind. Thus, the meaning of his statement, if we conceive
the meaning of our statement, ‘Man is an animal, then assent to it’, is the same as saying that when we grasp the form of the
composite which consists of the forms of the two terms and their composition,
then the form of that composition is grasped by us. However, the form of this
composite cannot occur except subsequently to its parts which make up the form
of that composition, and the occurrence of the form of this composition
following the occurrence of the form of that composite is redundant, which is
absurd.
I say: part of the composite consists in the form of that composition
absolutely, rather than the conformity of the form of this composition to
things themselves, which is the meaning of consenting to it. The meaning of the
statement, ‘then we assented to it’, consists in the conformity of the form of
that composition to things themselves, which is more specific than the form of
that composition absolutely and this is not redundant.
Then, he1
says that assuming this to be correct, the occurrence of the form of that
composition in the mind would be a form of conception; whereas the occurrence
of the composition itself, rather than its form, would be a form of assent.
I say: The occurrence of the composition itself is an act of attribution or
judgment; but judgment cannot be regarded as assent, because it is active, whereas assent, which is knowledge, is simply passive. The occurrence of the form of composition in the
mind, in conformity with the things themselves, is equivalent to assent,
insofar as it is consent or approval of what is assented to, even if it is
considered a form of conception, insofar as it occurs in the mind. This will be
followed by added clarification.
Then, he2
adds: If it is said that by his words ‘then we assented to it’, he intended
that ‘we have judged it to be true’, in the sense in which assent is understood
linguistically, rather than conventionally; our response would be that the
judgment of truth is a secondary form of assent, while we are talking here
about primary assent. Moreover, it is necessary that the judgment which we
repudiate not be regarded an assent. All this is contrary to what he holds.
We further comment that the
intent of his words ‘then we believed’ is simply: we have consented to its
truth and affirmed it. Therefore, it is not a secondary mode of assent, since
it is not a judgment of truthfulness, but rather a primary assent.
As for his statement, ‘the
judgment which we repudiate cannot be a form of assent’, that is true, because
the proposition accompanied by repudiation cannot be assented to and so assent
cannot attach to it, as we reported in reference to the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā). It
is also possible that the same proposition may be understood by three different
persons to mean assent, doubt or repudiation.
He then states that it is
said by his words is meant ‘then we assented to it’; that is, then we judged
thereby. We say, although this may be true, it conflicts nevertheless with his
own interpretation of assent, as well as that of others; because assent is a series of conceptions accompanied by judgment,
although here he meant by it assent only.
Moreover, by its intent is
not meant, ‘We then judged it to be such’, but rather the intent is what we
have said repeatedly; namely, interpreting assent as conceptions accompanied by
judgment. He did not mean by it simply judgment, but rather affirming the
composition, as we have seen. That would not be incompatible with his
interpretation, but rather that of others.
He then says: I would also
comment on his1 reference to the conformity (of the conception) to the things
themselves that the provision of conformity may be taken into account where the
interpretation of truthfulness is concerned, but not the interpretation of
assent in this sense. For assent in this sense may not be accompanied by
conformity, or conformity may not be taken into account with respect to it.
He is free to adhere to this
view in contradiction to anyone else. Then, he would be obliged to comply with
his convention, when he uses it; but the fact is that he has divided assent
into intuitive and acquired. He also added that the disagreement among
reasonable people bears on the acquisitive part. However, it is impossible that
all that reasonable people have disagreed upon should be conformable.
Therefore, some forms of assent are not conformable, according to him.
Moreover, he has divided
propositions, in the first part of the Fifth Article of this book, into what affects the soul by means
of a matter of assent and what affects it by means of a matter of non-assent.
He then included conjectural, deceptive and conclusive propositions in the first part. Accordingly,
he has included in the category of assent that which is not conformable, as
well as that which is not considered as liable to conformity. From this, it
appears that he did abide by the above convention.2
I say that there is no doubt that truth consists in that your predicating
one thing of another, affirmatively or negatively, is in conformity with
reality. Assent consists in admitting the conformity, but admitting conformity
with respect to some judgment does not entail necessarily that that judgment is
conformable, as was mentioned. How? The philosophers in interpreting vision,
for instance, are of two opinions: one is that vision is caused by the rays’
emanation; the other is that vision is a matter of impression.
Now, admission, consent or
assent with respect to each opinion is a fact, although the fact in itself
cannot be more than one. It follows that admitting conformity in a given
judgment does not entail that that judgment is conformable. Therefore, all
modes of assent are conformable with respect to consent or admission, even
though some of them may not be conformable to what the thing is in itself.
Now,
conjectural, deceptive and necessary propositions fall into the category of
assent in this sense and we should not diverge from convention.
Then, he says: ‘If it is
said that assent, which is one of the two divisions of knowledge, must be
conformable or else it is not knowledge’, having himself divided knowledge into
conception and assent and nothing else; I would say, ‘Knowledge is also applied
to what is not certain, such as dialectic and the like. Therefore, what is an
object of assent does not have to be conformable’.
For me, this is true. For,
there is no doubt that the term ‘knowledge’ is applied to what is not certain,
and therefore what is an object of assent need not conform to reality. However,
having interpreted assent as the admission of conformity, regardless of whether
it is conformity to reality or not, he1 is not open to this
proviso and this objection does not affect his position.
Then he said: ‘Regarding
everything which ought to conform, it is not necessary that conformity should
be taken into account in the process of interpreting it. For, there is a
difference between what the meaning of conformity implies and what attaches to
it. This is similar to our saying: “Animal is divisible into rational and
non-rational”, followed by our interpreting the rational alone, rather than the
rational animal, as a body which is capable of thinking. This would be false
because body does not enter into the concept of rational. That is why it is
applied in a sense to immaterial entities which are not bodily; although
rational animal can only refer to what is bodily. Rational in this sense
denotes, then, bodily by necessity, not by implication. The same is true of
assent insofar as it entails conformity attaching to it, not in being
knowledge.’
I say: Conformity which is taken in the interpretation of assent is other
than that conformity which attaches to the thing itself. For, the first is part
of assent by way of implication; whereas the latter is extraneous to it and
attaches to it only in certain cases. Thus, in interpreting it,2
the first type of conformity should be taken into account, rather than the
second. However, the example he gives is sound and does not affect his position
adversely.
He then says: ‘If the
concept of conformity is taken into account in relation to scientific assent,
it should also be taken into account in relation to conception, which is its
counterpart. Taking it into account in relation to one of the two disjunctives3
is an aberration’.
I say: He is not referring here to conformity in relation to scientific
assent, but rather conformity in relation to the concept of assent absolutely.
Assent in this sense attaches to all conceptions or some of them regardless of
whether the conception in question consists of a single term or a proposition.
That is why it has been said that conception is never independent of assent.
In that respect, knowledge
is divisible into conception independent of assent and conception attended by
assent. All the sciences consist of conceptions only; although assent attaches
to some of them, but not to the others. Moreover, assent, insofar as it occurs
in the mind, is equivalent to conception, but insofar as it refers to the
object assented to, is a form of assent. Were the acknowledgement of conformity
with respect to the thing itself as conceived, that conception would not be a
form of pure conception, but conception attended by assent. Further,
clarification of this point will follow.
He then said: ‘Conformity
cannot be taken into account in the case of naïve conception; otherwise it will
not be naïve. For, we say that conception is divisible into: 1) real, preceded
by the knowledge of the existence of the conceived object, in such a way that
its conformity with the existing entity is presupposed; otherwise it would be a
conception of something other than that conceived object, which is a form of
ignorance, or 2) what is not real, and is not preceded by the existence of the
object conceived or its non-existence. This is a form of nominal conception,
which should rather be affiliated to verbal cognitions.
It is clear that conformity
should be taken into account in scientific conception, which is the counterpart
of scientific assent. But if this is taken into account in connection with the
interpretation he has given, then there would be no difference between
conception and assent, except in the case of the conception of the object and
the concept of composition itself, regardless of whether they are both
considered in connection with conformity or not.
I say: what he means by assent is not scientific assent or that of which the
particular conception he mentioned is the counterpart; but rather something
more general. If this is the case, we would argue that conception consists in
the fact that the meaning of the term is grasped by the mind, regardless of
whether (the term) is simple or composite, in conformity or not. Thus,
conformity or non-conformity should not be taken into account therein. It is
not the counterpart of assent, but an object of assent. Therefore, taking
conformity into account in interpreting such an object in another sense does
not justify taking it into account where the object is concerned. Even if
assent in this sense were to involve all kinds of conceptions, such conceptions
would not become forms of assent, but rather objects of assent. The difference
between the object and what it applies to, that is between conception and
assent, will always be there. God is the guide!
You should also know that
applying the terms predicate and object is a matter of latitude. For the truth
is that conception is the primary knowledge and assent is not possible except
in the wake of conception.
The proof that assent is not
identical with judgment and is not something ensuing on consent is that if we
say ‘the world has a beginning’ and ‘the whole is greater than the part’,
predication and assertion of the relationship is perceived in both propositions.
The perception of this predication requires no acquisitive knowledge, because predication and judgment are acts of the soul,
whose actions depend on its choice. Thus, if you choose to conceive the two
terms (of the proposition), you would predicate one or the other; otherwise
not.
If this is granted, then the
first assent is acquired, the second is intuitive. Now, predication is not
acquired, therefore assent is something other than predication and consent
occurs in the second proposition without intermediary, while in the first it
does not occur unless a middle term has occurred.
Assent is thus other than
judgment in the sense of predication, and is other than the object or the
subject of judgment, which are the components of the judgment. It is also other
than the sum-total of the judgment, its object or its subject; as well as
judgment in the sense of the relation of the object to the subject of the
judgment. For, conceiving the relation between the two depends on the soul’s
choice.
The statements of some
modern scholars show that assent is not the same as judgment. For, they state
that judgment is the act of predicating one thing or another, either positively
or negatively. They have also stated that acquired assent is that kind of
assent in which the conception of the two terms of a proposition is not
sufficient for affirming predication.
Moreover, there is no doubt
that affirming predication is other than that predication which is judgment,
and other than affirming the relationship which is judgment, and other than
affirming the relationship which is judgment, according to a modern view.
Affirmation in fact is assent; that is, consenting, affirming and confessing
the truth of what is assented to.
The Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) has
said in the above-mentioned chapter of al-Mūjaz al-kabīr (The Great
Summary) that assent depends on two things: the first is conception of what is
assented to; that is, what is required in it; the second conceiving that which
is known to be certain and assenting to it.
Now, nothing in predication
or relation depends on that. Therefore, it has been established that assent is
other than judgment, according to both interpretations; and conceiving the
object and subject of judgment is the pre-condition of assent and not part of
it.
On this basis, it is
permissible to divide knowledge into conception only and conception accompanied
by assent, as the Shaykh has distinguished the two in al-Ishārāt
(Remarks and Admonitions). Knowledge of one thing may therefore be a matter of
conception, some of whose parts differ from other parts by virtue of an
accident attaching to it, which is assent, or its non-attaching to it. Assent,
too, insofar as it is grasped by the mind, will be a form of conception and
insofar as it attaches to another will be a form of assent. Knowledge may also
be divided into conception and assent, as he (Ibn Sīnā) has done in al-Mūjaz al-kabīr (The Great Summary). Thus, some
cognitions are either forms of conception, which comprise what is grasped by
the mind, whether it is composite or simple; while other (cognitions) are forms
of assent; that is the recognition of conceptions within
the soul and consenting to them, even though consent, insofar as it arises in
the mind, is a form of conception. No objection or doubt can be raised against
this double division.
That is what may be said
about assent according to this interpretation.1
Chapter 7
An Account of What has been Said about Assent,
according to the First Interpretation
What has been said about assent, insofar
as it is regarded as judgment will now be given.
Al-Shaykh al-Suhrawardī2
states in al-Muṭāraḥāt (The Exchanges) that ‘defining assent as judging one thing as being
another is not sound. For, this applies to assent with regard to categorical
(propositions), but does not apply to assent regarding conditional
(propositions). One should rather adhere in explaining this matter to what we
have mentioned in al-Talwīḥāt (Book of Allusions)’. Here, he states that knowledge is either a form
of conception, or the grasping of the form of the thing by the mind, or a form
of assent; namely, the act of judging of conceptions, negatively or
affirmatively, so as to comprise assent in the case of conditional (propositions).
He has also stated in al-Muṭāraḥāt that there is a
difference between proposition and assent, insofar as proposition is a
discursive statement, which is either verbal or mental; whereas assent is a
rational judgment which is not verbal. Assent in fact is identical with
judgment, except that judgment is not fulfilled except by means of conceptions.
He also stated in al-Muṭāraḥāt: ‘As for dividing
knowledge into conception and assent, that may be permissible in elementary
books, because it is a matter which is not susceptible of scrutiny. The most
comprehensive division is the one given by Shaykh Abū ʿAlī,3 in some places, that
knowledge is either conception only, or conception accompanied by assent. What
they both have in common is conception, while to one is added assent, which is
judgment’.
Now, every term applied to
two things, one of which is distinguishable by virtue of what is proper to it,
is rather applied by virtue of what is common to the two. Now, since it has
been said in the process of division that knowledge is either this or that, it
follows that division is not possible unless the term is used in one sense.
For, a common term cannot be divided, except in accordance with what was stated
earlier. It is as though he took the term ‘knowledge’ in this context as
equivalent to conception, which he then divided into simple or accompanied by
assent.
Moreover,
assent is a form of judgment, which is the act of affirming a relationship or
denying it. Now, grasping the meaning of a certain act is not the same as that
act itself; that is, grasping is not the same as that act. Thus, our grasping
that act, which is the same as judgment, consists in conceiving that act,
namely, judgment. The above-mentioned knowledge is thus reducible to
conception.
Moreover, conception may
bear on external matters or on mental judgments, which are forms of assent.
Therefore, our various forms of knowledge are reducible to conceptions, even
when they happen sometimes to consist of conceptions of judgments or forms of
assent, which are mental acts of affirming or denial.1
I say: His2 statement, in interpreting judgment as a form of affirming the
relation (of two terms), is similar to the notion of affirming, consenting or
recognizing. The commentator3 of al- Talwīḥāt (The Allusions), in explaining these words, states that when the form
of the thing is in the mind, it is either accompanied by a judgment or not. In
both cases, that condition is called conception, whereas judgment, considered
insofar as it is in the mind, is a form of conception also, the property of its
being a judgment is called assent.
Conception, then, is the act
of grasping the thing by the mind, without reference to judgment. For, if it is
determined by the absence of judgment, as claimed by some modern scholars, who
hold that what is grasped by the mind and is unaccompanied by judgment is
conception, but if accompanied by judgment is assent. Thus, they make assent
dependent on conception in accordance with the view of those who identify
assent with judgment, as is proposed in al-Talwīḥāt (Allusions), in the manner of ancient philosophers. Nor would it be
part of assent, as those who regard it as the sum-total of three conceptions,
the object, the subject and the act of judgment assert. This is the view of the
Imam.4 However, all scholars are agreed that assent requires conceptions, but
the converse is not true.
For, if judgment is
presupposed as a correlative, then conception would require assent, as assent
requires it, and then the converse would follow in the process of each
presupposing the other, as such, and this is something they have all rejected.
It follows that presupposing
the concurrence of judgment or its non-concurrence does not correspond to the
view of the majority; but rather, the view that does not conflict with their
account of conception and assent is what is mentioned in al-Talwīḥāt. As for conception, it is just as I have shown; but as for assent, it
follows from their consensus that failure to assent to primary propositions
might depend on their obscure conceptions of their terms. Thus, were assent
other than judgment, pure and simple, and was a matter of the three
above-mentioned conceptions, then it would not be intuitive, unless those
conceptions were intuitive. This is contrary to what they
conceded with respect to primary propositions, despite the fact that some of
them; I mean the Imam, have contradicted themselves in some places.
If this is granted, then it
follows that knowledge is of two types: 1) One is conception, which consists in
the mind grasping the form of the thing; as when a term denoting the thing and
then is uttered, its meaning is perceived by the mind. This is independent of
whether it is expressed in a single term, such as ‘man’, or a compound, such as
‘rational animal’ or ‘the world is contingent or possible’, just as you have
learned that judgment, as grasped by the mind is an object of conception. In
fact, it is a form of assent, precisely because it is judgment; but it cannot
be grasped by the mind, unless the object and subject of judgment are grasped,
too. Thus, that object of conception is a proposition assented to, whereby it
is the object and subject of judgment at the same time, as in the
above-mentioned example.
2) The other is assent,
which consists in the judgment that the thing is conceived with respect to its
being or non-being, on the one hand, or the existence of a state pertaining to
it, on the other. This is in general a form of judging a certain conception
negatively or positively, as the example given in al-Talwīḥāt shows. That includes both categorical and conditional modes of assent.
This is more appropriate than the claim of some scholars that assent consists
in judging of two things that one is identical or not identical with the other.
For, this is true of categorical, but not conditional (propositions), and
therefore does not cover all types of assent.
This is all that can be said
about assent, according to the first interpretation. However, his1
statement that ‘then the claim that assent presupposes conception… and is part
of assent’ should be reconsidered; because it is not excluded that the
opposition of part and whole may entail that one is implied in the other, as
one and may imply each other. What is rather excluded is the claim that both
are true of the same thing in the same respect.
This is true, because it is
impossible that the same thing may be both a single or compound mode of
understanding. The examples illustrating this point are numerous, such as five,
which is odd, implies two, which is even, or a compound term, which implies a
single one. Similarly, it is not excluded that the condition and the conditioned
are regarded as opposites; rather than their truth in reference to the same
entity.
You should know the import
of his statement, ‘Then that conceived object is an assertory proposition of
which and by which judgment may be made, as in the aforementioned example’;
namely, that the world is contingent. For, once the meaning of an assertory
proposition is conceived, which amounts to conceiving the object, the subject
and the act of judgment, then the relation between the two extreme
terms will be grasped. This relation in fact depends on the choice of the
conceiver, relationship being his own action and his action depending on his
choice. However, on this assumption no acquired assent is left.
Whoever interprets assent as
a form of consent will not be faced with this problem. For, he may posit a
relationship, but still doubt that this relationship is to be acknowledged or
not. Then, he would acquire that admission by recourse to conjunctive premises.
Therefore, he who
investigates assent ought to probe the meaning of consent and that of judgment.
If he finds that both are the same, then assent is the same as judgment. This
will actually follow if judgment is interpreted as the recognition of relation,
not relation itself; but if judgment is interpreted as relationship, then the
difference is obvious, as was stated above.
As for those who assert that
assent is the same as judgment, and then interpret judgment as the relation
between the object and the subject of judgment, rather than the predication of the
relation, in order to escape the charge that relationship is an action, whereas
assent is a passion, insofar as it is a form of knowledge; it should be
asserted that their claim is vacuous. For, you have already learned that
relation, insofar as it is grasped by the soul, is equivalent to conception;
but insofar as it is specifically regarded as judgment, is equivalent to
assent.
Some1 have described the
difference between judgment and assent as follows. Assent is an act of passion, because it is part of the renewed knowledge and is
in fact an impression of the knower; whereas judgment consists in asserting a
positive or negative relation, which is an action.
For assertion is an action of the knower. Therefore, one cannot be equated with
the other, and thus calling judgment a form of assent is purely figurative.
The proof of this is that,
since understanding consists in the presence of the object known to the knower,
then the presence which leads him to recognize that a positive relation exists
or does not exist, amounts to assent; and what is present to him then is the
object of assent, whereas asserting the relation or denying it is equivalent to
judgment. As for the presence which accompanies the (understanding), it is the same
as we said above. If, however, something else is present or the sense of
occurrence and non-occurrence is understood as something else, then it is
conception, and the present object is the conceived object. Therefore, assent
is not independent of judgment, but is the same as it.
The proof of their
divergence is the view of all the modern scholars, who assert that
understanding, accompanied by judgment, is equivalent to assent. For, what
accompanies a thing is other than that thing, which is identical with the view
of al-Khwājah (Ṭūsī) in his commentary on al-Ishārāt,2
where he states that the object of assent is what is present in it as a
concurrent thereof and signifying it. For, what is
concurrent with a thing is other than that thing, but it is because assent and
judgment are inseparable that one is called by the name of the other
figuratively, as in the ‘flowing of the drain.’
I say: the words of the moderns prove that they1 are different, but
the words of the Khwājah (Ṭūsī) does not; for he states in his commentary on al-Ishārāt
that judgment is the same as assent and whatever is subject to judgment is
assented to. This is followed by these words: ‘that this is how the reality of
conception and assent should be understood, so that problems raised might be
rebuffed’. Similarly, were assent equivalent to understanding accompanied by
judgment, then:
(1) Judgment would be other
than assent, while it is identical with it or part of it;
(2) Assent, moreover, would
be acquired. For, were absolute understanding dependent on reflection, then the
understanding accompanying it would be dependent on it, as the part on the
whole;
(3) And then each assent
would consist of three assents, since it is accompanied by three acts of
understanding;
(4) Also, it would then be
possible to grasp assent by recourse to explicative statements, although it is
not grasped except by reference to reality.
The first point is countered
by what you have learned regarding the necessary association of judgment and
the act of understanding accompanying the judgment, rather than being identical
with it or part of it.
The second point is
countered by the statement that acquired assent is that which requires
acquisition in the process of affirming the relation or denying it. For,
whatever is such that its conceptions are acquired will not need it2
in that respect, but rather from the standpoint of the necessary conception.
The third point is countered
by asserting that assent is a mode of presence, whereby the relation is shown
to be present or not present. The presence of each of the three modes of
understanding is not that way.
The fourth point is
countered by asserting that the assent which cannot be grasped, except by
recourse to proof, is assent in the sense of judgment; I mean, either asserting
the relation or denying it. As for that assent which denotes qualified
presence, it can only be grasped by recourse to a discursive proof.
It cannot be said that the
first question is not well-stated, because if he3 means by assent
judgment, then we do not grant that it is a passive property. If, on the other
hand, he means by it judgment accompanied by the conception of both extreme
terms, then we do not grant that judgment applies to it. However, if it is said
that assent is equivalent to judgment, as an active property, then it will not
be possible to classify knowledge according to it. For, we say that assent must
be passive assertion, because it is part of knowledge,
and then it will not be equivalent to judgment, which is an active assertion.
I say: It is clear from the words of this eminent scholar1
that assent and judgment are different, but correlative. According to the
interpretation which we derived from the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā), assent is more
specific than judgment. For the existence of assent requires the existence of
judgment, but the converse is not generally true. On this interpretation, the
above objections do not arise.
Chapter 8
How One Can Counter Assent, According to the
Second Interpretation
As for those who state that assent is the
sum-total of the object, the subject and the act of judgment, they may be
rebutted by stating that judgment may be accompanied by doubt, denial, or
affirmation. But, it is impossible that assent may be accompanied by doubt or
denial.
Some subtle scholars have
urged against it the objection that the Imam (Rāzī) has stated that conception
is the act of grasping the form of the thing only, adding that conception is a
part of assent; because assent is the sum-total of the three conceptions.2
But, he has also stated that judgment applies to the object and the subject of
the judgment and therefore is part of the assent, which is the object of
judgment.
I say: The form embedded in the mind is the object known, rather than
knowledge itself and its emergence is equivalent to knowledge. Thus, the parts
of assent, identified with knowledge, are not the same as the object known, but
rather knowledge itself.
If this is granted, we
conclude that the parts of assent, according to this view, consist in the
conception of the object and the subject of judgment; I mean, their being
grasped by reason, and conceiving the judgment binding them. Thus, the form of
the object of judgment and the notion of the subject of judgment, which are
known together, are the two conditions of the existence of assent and judgment
alike. And it does not follow from their statement that judgment consists of
the object and the subject of judgment which necessarily entail that they are
the two parts of assent.
Chapter 9
Comment on Assent, According to the Third
Interpretation
The author of al-Matāliʿ has stated in Kitāb al-Bayān (The Book of Clarification) that conception
is the act of understanding the thing as such, regardless of whether it is the
object or subject of judgment, positively or negatively. What is considered
simultaneously with both of them is assent. Thus, if we say, for instance, that
man is an animal or is a not a brute, we would understand first the meaning of
man, animal, and brute and then that he is or it is not such. We, then, assert
that he is an animal or is not a brute. The first act of understanding is actually
conception, and together with the judgment that it is such or not such is
assent.
I say: The words of this eminent scholar show that assent is different from
judgment, because assent is conception attended by judgment. He may also mean
that the sum-total of conception and judgment amount to assent, as the Imam
(Rāzī) also held.
It is said that certain
objections may be raised against this view on the first interpretation.
One is that were assent
equivalent to conception attended by judgment, then judgment would be external
to it, but it is actually identical with it or is its part.
Secondly, assent is acquired
when its conceptions are acquired, due to the fact that, if absolute
understanding depends on reflection, then attendant understanding would depend
on it, too, since it depends on its parts.
Thirdly, then every assent
would amount to three assent, due to the occurrence of three concurrent
understandings.
Fourthly, then assent could
be achieved by means of discursive speech; whereas it is only achieved by means
of proof.
(We may respond) to the
first objection by saying that judgment is the precondition of conception
turning into assent, rather than assent itself or its parts.
(We may respond) to the
second objection by saying that acquired assent is that conception which
requires acquisition, so as to posit the relation, or its opposite, among its
parts. However, assent, whose conceptions are acquired, will not be needed in
that respect, but only with respect to that conception which is its part or its
accessory.
(We may respond) to the
third objection by saying that assent is that which is accompanied by judgment,
originally and without intermediaries, and thus is the sum-total of all three
conceptions. As for its being attended by each, that is the result of its being
attended by all (three); so that not each one of them would be an assent. For,
a precondition of assent is that judgment should accompany it first, and
accompany its parts by means of the whole, subsequently.
(We may respond) to the
fourth objection by saying that what is grasped by means of discursive speech
is conception, in which judgment is not taken into account, rather than that in
which judgment is taken into account. Nor does it follow that from grasping the
first by means of discursive speech, the second is grasped, too.
The
author of al-Qisṭās1
(The Balance) has stated that, whether the relation is grasped by reason or not
grasped, not in the sense of conceiving the act of grasping or not grasping it,
then that is part of the act of conception, but not in the sense that the
positive relation exists or does not exist—for that is part of the process of
conception, but rather in the sense that the positive relation exists or does
not exist. That act is equivalent to assent, which is identical with judgment.
I say: Having admitted that assent is a matter of reason grasping that the
relation exists with respect to the thing itself or does not exist—which is the
meaning of consent or belief, then it is indifferent whether he calls it
judgment or something else.
Chapter 10
Conclusion
This is the sum of what has been said with
respect to conception and assent. The truth is what we have reported on the
authority of the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā). For, whatever is grasped by the mind is
either the forms of certain entities, consent, admission or belief, that those
forms are in conformity with what the mind grasps. The first is conception, the
second is assent. Consent, as perceived by the mind, is conception too, but
insofar as it is consent to something else, it is equivalent to assent. No
object can be raised against this view.
Moreover, what confirms the
statement of all scholars that assent is a form of consent or belief is their
statement in the context of acquired assent, that ‘this proposition is
well-known in point of conception, but unknown in point of assent’.2
There is doubt that, prior to reasoning,3 the proposition
coexists with its parts; I mean, the subject, the predicate, and the relation
between the two; but after the reasoning only consent to the fact that the
relation exists remains; that is, that it is in conformity with the thing
itself.
1. The Aristotelian terms
‘conception’ and ‘judgment’ are replaced in Islamic philosophy by ‘conception’
and ‘assent’. The Arabic equivalent of judgment, ḥukm, is sometimes used in the
sense of assent.
2. al-ʿIlm al-ḥuḍūrī, or intuitive knowledge.
1. Meaning philosophical
writings.
2. Or five divisions of
Aristotelian logic, Isagoge, or (Introduction), Interpretation, Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics and Sophistica.
3. That is, conception.
1. That is, the first is
active, the other is passive.
2. Cf. footnote 1, p. 97 of the
text.
3. Or Sirāj al-Dīn Abū Bakr
al-Urmawī (d. 682/1283).
4. Ibn Sīnā.
1. Between subject and
predicate.
2. al-Shifāʾ, or The
Book of Healing, is Ibn Sīnā’s most famous and comprehensive work.
1. Of subject and predicate.
2. Cf. Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ, 1, Introduction, 17.
3. The full title of this book
by al-Abharī (d. c. 663/1264) is Taʿdīl al-miʿyār fī
tanzīl al-afkār.
4. Cf. al-Abharī, Taʿdīl al-miʿyār, pp. 139f.
5. That is, Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī.
6. i.e. al-Abharī’s book.
7. The statement in brackets is
not found in the original text of al-Tanzīl.
1. Ṭūsī.
2. Ṭūsī.
1. al-Abharī’s.
2. Namely, the division into
what affects the soul as a matter of assent and what does not.
1. al-Abharī.
2. i.e. assent.
3. Assent and conception.
1. i.e. the fourth given by
al-Abharī.
2. Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī,
known as Shaykh al-Ishrāq (d. 587/1191)
3. Ibn Sīnā.
1. Cf. Suhrawardī, Muṭāraḥāt, p. 56.
2. Suhrawardī’s.
3. Ibn Kammūnah (d. 683/1284).
4. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī.
1. Suhrawardī, in Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq.
1. Namely, Quṭb al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī (d.
710/1310), colleague of Ṭūsī.
2. Of Ibn Sīnā.
1. Conception and assent.
2. The assent.
3. Ṭūsī.
1. Suhrawardī.
2. Namely, the object, the
subject and the act of judgment.
1. M. Ibn Ashraf al-Samarqandī
(d. c. 710/1310).
2. The authors of this
statement are not given.
3. Or syllogism, Arabic qiyās.
Philosophical
Sufism
The period primarily under consideration
in this volume, namely from the seventh/ thirteenth to the tenth/ sixteenth
century, is one in which philosophical Sufism was to undergo an unparalleled
flowering in Persia as in many other Islamic lands. The seventh/ thirteenth
century was witness to a remarkable revival of Sufism itself, the appearance of
numerous saints and seers and the writing of seminal works which have acted as
basic sources and a watershed for all later Sufism. One need only recall the
names of such colossal figures as Ibn ʿArabī, Abu’l-Ḥasan al-Shādhilī, Najm al-Dīn Kubrā, Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī and
many others who together completely transformed the spiritual and intellectual
landscape of the Islamic world. From the point of view of spirituality this
period is like a return to the beginning of the Islamic revelation and is
witness to a providential revivification of Sufism that was to mark in many
ways the life of Islamic society over the nearly eight centuries of Islamic history
that followed.
From one point of view
nearly all of the major spiritual currents of this period starting in the
seventh/ thirteenth century have a philosophical dimension, including the
teachings of Rūmī, although he was openly opposed to the falāsifah.
In fact because of the philosophical dimension of the Mathnawī,
it came to be studied in later centuries by some of the philosophers themselves
and as famous a philosophical figure as Ḥājjī Mullā Hādī Sabziwārī, with whom we
shall deal in the next volume, wrote a commentary on it. What has been
mentioned about Rūmī could also be said mutatis mutandis
of the celestial poetry of Ḥāfiẓ and other masters of Sufi poetry. But for this Anthology
we have limited our scope somewhat by concentrating for the most part on
doctrinal expositions of Sufism, associated with the school of Ibn ʿArabī, which have a
distinctly doctrinal and openly philosophical character and which can be
properly called philosophical mysticism in its Islamic setting.
The earlier phase of philosophical
Sufism, preceding Ibn ʿArabī and associated with the two Ghazzālīs and ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī, has been
included to clarify the role of these Persian figures in the earlier expression
of this philosophy. Of course the line of separation of
such writings from the works of a Rūmī still remains thin but for those
familiar with Sufism in its relation to philosophy, it is clear why such a
distinction can be made. As to why it was made in this volume, it was again
because of the question of space. If we had decided to include works of Sufi
poets such as ʿAṭṭār, Saʿdī, Rūmī and Ḥāfiẓ with an explanation of their metaphysical, cosmological,
philosophical, psychological and ethical significance, we would have needed to
add another volume to this already vast Anthology.
Not wanting to do so caused us to use a narrower gauge and select works with
direct philosophical import and of a doctrinal nature while remaining aware
that there is an ocean of philosophical significance, if philosophy be
understood in its Platonic and Pythagorean sense, in numerous writings of this
period in Persia, as elsewhere, including works of Najm al-Dīn Kubrā, his
disciple Najm al-Dīn Rāzī, ʿAlāʾ al-Dawlah Simnānī and so many other illustrious masters of Sufism. The
study of the phenomenology of colours in the School of Najm al-Dīn Kubrā by
Henry Corbin is sufficient proof of the philosophical significance of other
schools of Sufism such as the Central Asian which, for reasons already
mentioned, have been left out of this volume.
Having limited ourselves to
the definition given above and being concerned with Persia and not elsewhere in
this Anthology, we have begun this part on
philosophical Sufism somewhat earlier in the sixth/ twelfth century with the
two Ghazzālīs and have terminated the volume with the famous ‘Seal of Poets’, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī, who was also a
master of gnosis of the School of Ibn ʿArabī. The writings selected for this section demonstrate the
remarkable richness of the tradition of philosophical Sufism or maʿrifah/ʿirfān expressed in a more systematic manner rather than through allusions
and indications that were characteristic of masters of old such as Junayd. The
subjects treated in this section are centred around pure metaphysics and
knowledge of God but they also include the discussion of knowledge itself and
its modes, Being and the chain of existents, the structure of the cosmos and
the human soul and the correspondence between the microcosm and macrocosm, the
gnostic meaning of love and many other issues of the deepest significance for
the understanding of who we are, where we are and where we are going.
We have dealt with Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī in the
last volume, but there we were concerned with his role as an Ashʿarite theologian with a
philosophical bent although he was an opponent of mashshāʾī philosophy. But Ghazzālī was also a Sufi and in fact one of the major
figures in the long tradition of Sufism. His works in this domain include the
most influential Islamic work on ethics, namely, Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm al-dīn (The Revivification of the Sciences of Religion). They are not,
however, limited to ethics. Even in the Iḥyāʾ in the book on
knowledge, Ghazzālī wrote with remarkable mastery of gnosis and doctrinal
Sufism or what we have called philosophical Sufism. Furthermore, in the latter
part of his life, he composed a number of more esoteric treatises meant for his
advanced students on principial knowledge and wisdom based on the gnostic
understanding of the meaning of intellect and
revelation. Such works mark the beginning of what we have called philosophical
and doctrinal Sufism which was to flower fully with Ibn ʿArabī a century and a
half after Ghazzālī.
The younger brother of Abū Ḥāmid, Aḥmad Ghazzālī is one of
the poles of Sufism and represents a current of Sufism distinct from that of
Ibn ʿArabī
and his school. If Aḥmad Ghazzālī is included here, it is because through his masterpiece Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq (Auspices of
Divine Lovers) he forged a genre of Persian prose that was to have a long
history in the tradition of Persian Sufism and created a whole school of
philosophical Sufism very different from that of Ibn ʿArabī, Qūnawī and their students, but one
which also sometimes intermingled with certain currents of the school of Shaykh
al-Akbar. Aḥmad Ghazzālī did not speak of intellect but of love but this was love
impregnated with gnosis and unitive knowledge. He expressed a whole metaphysics
and not only the metaphysics of love and he did so in a distinct language which
elevated Persian prose to a new height for the expression of metaphysics and
mystical philosophy. He is also significant in that he provided the language
with which many later Persian gnostics were to express Ibn ʿArabian metaphysics,
bringing these two district traditions together. The Sawāniḥ of Aḥmad Ghazzālī has its
sequels in the Lamaʿāt (Divine Flashes) of Fakhr al-Dīn ʿIrāqī and the Ashiʿʿāt
al-lamaʿāt (Rays of Divine
Flashes), a commentary on ʿIrāqī’s work by ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī. Now, both ʿIrāqī and Jāmī were thoroughly acquainted with the school of Ibn ʿArabī and were among its
most important representatives in Persia. Aḥmad Ghazzālī’s Sawāniḥ is, therefore, not only
important in itself as a masterpiece of Sufi prose with profound philosophical
significance but also as a seminal text in a tradition of works on Sufi
metaphysics written in the language of love used even by those deeply immersed
in gnosis in general and the doctrinal Sufism of the Ibn ʿArabian School in
particular.
Aḥmad Ghazzālī influenced deeply ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī, whose short
life curtailed the intellectual and spiritual influence of one of the most
remarkable figures of Sufism. Although put to death at an early age, ‘Ayn al-Quḍāt nevertheless wrote a
few works which mark him as a major figure in philosophical Sufism preceding
Ibn ʿArabī.
His Tamhīdāt (Dispositions) in many ways follows the Sawāniḥ and also reveals his familiarity with both Islamic philosophy and kalām. His Zubdat al-ḥaqāʾiq (The Best of Truths) is perhaps even more philosophical and deals in
depth with such issues as the intellect, movement and being. As for his
letters, they reveal his intimate familiarity not only with Sufism, but also
with the whole of the Islamic intellectual tradition before him. His discussion
of Ghazzālī and Ibn Sīnā included in this volume are proofs of this assertion.
Altogether, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt is one of the remarkable figures of Islamic thought and belongs not
only to any history of Sufism, but also to any serious history of Islamic
philosophy. One can speculate what would have happened if his life had not been
terminated in the prime of his youth. He would have probably laid an even more
extensive foundation for philosophical and doctrinal
Sufism before Ibn ʿArabī although his approach differed in many ways from that of the
Andalusian master.
Between the establishment of
the School of Ibn ʿArabī and the tenth/sixteenth century which marks the end of the
historical period under consideration in this volume, a vast corpus of works
appeared in Persia in both Persian and Arabic dealing with the teachings of
this School. These works range from technical commentaries upon the bible of
gnosis, the Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, by such figures as ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kāshānī, Tāj al-Dīn Khwārazmī, and Bābā Rukn al-Dīn
Shīrāzī to poetry of the highest quality of which some, such as the poems of ʿIrāqī, Shabistarī and
Jāmī are among the peaks of Persian Sufi poetry. This school also produced many
outstanding Persian works of Sufi prose with a highly philosophical content
such as al-Insān al-kāmil (Universal Man) of ʿAzīz al-Dīn Nasafī and a
number of works by Saʿd al-Dīn Ḥamūyah. Even the works of ʿAlāʾ al-Dawlah Simnānī, who opposed certain theses of the Ibn ʿArabian School, were
nevertheless deeply affected by this school whose influence is easy to detect
everywhere because of both distinct doctrines and a particular technical
vocabulary. Altogether the influence of the School of Ibn ʿArabī upon both the
intellectual and spiritual life of Persia was immense. Nearly one hundred of
the 120 or so commentaries written on the Fuṣūṣ were written by those
who belonged to the Persian cultural sphere. There is also the influence of
authors of Persian origin living in other zones of Islamic culture to consider
as far as the school of Ibn ʿArabī is concerned. One need only cite ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Jīlī, who lived for some
time in Yemen and who wrote one of the most influential systematizations of the
teachings of Ibn ʿArabī, Kitāb al-Insān al-kāmil (The Book of
the Universal Man) written in Arabic and pre-dating the Persian text of Nasafī.
In any case out of this vast
ocean we have chosen five authors, all major figures, who also represent
various dimensions and aspects of the doctrines of Ibn ʿArabī as ‘systematized’
philosophical Sufism. We have started with the Nuṣūṣ (The Texts), an
important work of Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī (Qunyawī) which is a systematization in summary form
of Ibn ʿArabian
metaphysics. Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī, the premier student and step-son of Ibn ʿArabī, was more familiar
than his master with falsafah and presented Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings in a
more philosophical and systematic fashion than did Ibn ʿArabī himself. It was
mostly through his eyes that the eastern lands of Islam viewed Ibn ʿArabī during later
centuries.
The introduction of Ibn ʿArabian teachings into
Persia did not only influence those Sufi circles which on the formal plane were
associated with Sunnism, but also Twelver Shiʿism. Considering the future destiny of
Persia with the establishment of Shiʿism as the official state religion by the Safavids in the tenth/
sixteenth century, the meeting between Shiʿi theology and gnosis and Ibn ʿArabian gnosis during the
period of concern to this volume appears as providential and is in any case of
great intellectual import. The central figure in whom this conjunction took
place perhaps for the first time was Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī, at once a
Shiʿi
theologian and gnostic and an avid follower of the teachings of Ibn ʿArabī. Besides writing a
commentary upon the Fuṣūṣ, he wrote important
treatises on various metaphysical subjects such as Being. His masterpiece,
however, of which selections appear below, is the Jāmiʿ
al-asrār (The Sum of Secrets) which is a summa of Shiʿi gnosis in Ibn ʿArabian dress and at the same time Ibn ʿArabian gnosis in a Shiʿi version. This text
remains seminal for the understating of the later integration into Shiʿism of Ibn ʿArabian gnosis and the
continuity of the life of the School of Ibn ʿArabī in Shiʿi Persia. Just during the past several
decades there have appeared a number of commentaries and glosses on the Fuṣūṣ in Persia by such figures as Fāḍil-i Tūnī, Ayatollah Khomeini, Sayyid Jalāl
al-Dīn Āshtiyānī, and Ḥasan Ḥasan-Zādah Āmulī bearing witness to the living character of this
tradition. At the same time all of those works point to the importance of the
synthesis achieved between Ibn ʿArabian and Shiʿi gnosis by Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī.
Another figure of major
importance in the tradition of Ibn ʿArabian gnosis, who preceded the Safavid period and also influenced
many of the significant figures of that period, is Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī. Well versed in falsafah, including the schools of ishrāq
and kalām as well as ʿirfān, he sought to synthesize various Islamic intellectual perspectives
into a unity as was to be done later by Mullā Ṣadrā. Ibn Turkah was also associated with
the school of the Ḥurūfīs, which was an esoteric school especially interested in the
symbolism of letters and words in relation to their numerical equivalents as in
Kabbalistic gematria. Ibn Turkah wrote many notable
works in Persian and Arabic, but his most influential opus is Tamhīd al-qawāʿid (Establishing the
Principles), which remains to this day one of the most popular texts for the
teaching of ʿirfān. In fact notable
studies and commentaries continue to be written on it, such as the recent
voluminous study by Jawād Āmulī. The work of Ibn Turkah is a prime example of a
systematic and philosophical treatment of doctrinal Sufism and therefore
concerns exactly what we have called here ‘philosophical Sufism’.
Among the most remarkable
literary works of the Persian language is the Gulshan-i rāz
(The Secret Garden of Divine Mystery) by Maḥmūd Shabistarī. Written during a short
period as a response to a set of questions sent to him by a Sufi master from
Khurāsān, the poem explains the principles of ʿirfān in the most beautiful poetic dress conceivable, in a poetry that is
truly inspired. Many later masters have written commentaries upon this sublime
peak of Persian Sufi poetry including an Ismaili author. But the most famous
and most widely read is by a later Sufi teacher, Shams al-Dīn Lāhījī. His long
commentary is among the masterpieces of Persian Sufi prose devoted to ʿirfān and is therefore read and studied widely to this day in Persia. Were
the whole of this long work be translated into English, it would provide an
unparalleled source for the study of philosophical Sufism combined with
extensive literary references as well as quotations from the Qurʾān and ḥadīth.
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī who died at the end of the ninth/
fifteenth century within the period under consideration in this volume, was at
once a great poet in the line of Niẓāmī, Rūmī and Ḥāfiẓ, and also a master of the School of Ibn ʿArabī. He wrote several commentaries and
summaries of Ibn ʿArabī especially the Fuṣūṣ and himself authored
treatises on gnosis which became very popular, especially the Lawāʾiḥ (Gleams), a short treatise in Persian of high literary quality whose
reputation spread as far as China and which became one of the first Islamic
treatises to be translated into Chinese. Jāmī was equally popular in India and
in Persia itself was considered the seal of classical poets. Jāmī was not only
a great Sufi poet and biographer of the Sufis, but he was also a major
metaphysician. His treatise on Being, translated below, reveals his mastery of
this central subject of Islamic philosophy as well as his acquaintance with the
views espoused by followers of falsafah and kalām on this subject.
The selections chosen for
this section on philosophical Sufism do not do full justice to the very rich
and diverse forms of intellectual activity in this domain. But we hope that
those we have presented below will at least convey something of the profundity
and diversity of this type of philosophical activity in Persia between the
seventh/thirteenth and the tenth/sixteenth centuries. A knowledge of this
school along with those concerned in the earlier sections and their
interactions with each other, especially in the School of Shiraz, will it make
possible to understand the sudden flowering of the School of Isfahan in the
tenth/sixteenth century and in fact to comprehend better the historical roots
of later intellectual and philosophical currents in Persia down to the present
day.
S. H. Nasr
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī
In
Volume Three of this Anthology we included a section
on Ghazzālī where part of his theological thought was discussed. In this
volume, the focus is upon Ghazzālī’s philosophical Sufism.
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī Ṭūsī is perhaps the most
influential figure in the annals of Islamic intellectual thought. This great
jurist, philosopher, Qurʾānic commentator, theologian, logician and Sufi is considered by some
scholars to be the greatest figure in Islam after the period of the
‘rightly-guided caliphs’. Ghazzālī was a ‘one-man university’ given such titles
as ‘Proof of Islam’ (ḥujjat al-islām), the
‘Renewer of Religion’ (mujaddid), and the ‘Ornament
of Faith’ (zayn al-dīn).
Ghazzālī was born in Ṭūs in Khurāsān in
450/1058. His father, a textile weaver, was not literate but he had Sufi
tendencies. On his deathbed, Ghazzālī’s father left the guardianship of his children
to Imam Aḥmad Rādkānī, a family friend known for his piety and participation in
Sufism.
Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī studied
with a number of masters in Ṭūs, Jurjān, and especially Nayshāpūr, in the province of Khurāsān,
which at the time was one of the major centres of learning in the Islamic
world. His most famous teacher was Imam al-Ḥaramayn Abu’l Ma‘ālī Juwaynī, a well-known
Ashʿarite
theologian. Abū Ḥāmid was in his mid-thirties when he was invited by the famous Seljuq
wazir Khwājah Niẓām al-Mulk to come to the Niẓāmiyyah of Baghdad, the most prestigious centre of learning in the
Islamic world at that time, to teach Shāfiʿī law.
Abū Ḥāmid, who had already
established himself as a major scholar, accepted the invitation and in 484/1091
went to Baghdad where he taught for four years. But having gained much success
and fame in the Abbasid capital, he experienced his famous doubt over the epistemological
foundations of religious principles. This came about as a result of studying
philosophy, which he thought was based on reason, the solid intellectual ground
for which he was seeking. His failure to find certainty through the discursive
philosophy of the Peripatetics strengthened his sense of doubt, which had
subsided temporarily. The result was bewilderment and yet another attempt to
find certainty, this time outside the realm of law and
philosophy. For Ghazzālī intellectual honesty demanded that he should not live
in a state of hypocrisy, so he relinquished his position, bade farewell to his
family and began a spiritual journey in search of certitude (yaqīn). From 488/1095 to 498/1104 he lived the life of a
hermit, wandering throughout the Islamic world. We know that during this period
he went to Mecca, Jerusalem, and Damascus, among other places. He embraced
Sufism and dedicated himself to spiritual practices, meditation, invocation and
prayer.
Sufism became the means
through which he was delivered from doubt. Later he composed a book titled Munqidh min al-ḍalāl (Deliverance from
Error) in which he outlined his intellectual and spiritual autobiography. His
Sufi practices had lifted the veil from his heart and through them he achieved
certitude with regard to the realities of the spiritual world.
Afterwards he returned to
his native land and taught for a year at the Niẓāmiyyah of Nayshāpūr, but he left that city
and spent the last six years of his life in his birthplace, Ṭūs. It was there that he
trained a number of his highly gifted students and wrote his final works. He
died in 505/1111 and is buried in Ṭūs within a few miles of Firdawsī, the legendary poet who has been
called ‘the Homer of Persia’.
The life of Ghazzālī is
essential to the understanding of his intellectual perspective. In the Islamic
sciences, especially in the Sunni world but also in Shiʿism, he has influenced
three main areas: law, theology, and Sufism. He was a doctor of law who became
the foremost authority in Shāfiʿī jurisprudence; a theologian whose views were shaken by Avicennan
philosophy, against which he wrote extensively; and a Sufi who regained his
certitude through the path of Sufism. It is for this reason that he is read to
this day by students of Islamic law, theology, philosophy, and Sufism. As
discussed in Volume Three of this Anthology,
theologically Ghazzālī opened a new chapter in Ashʿarite kalām,
usually called philosophical theology. Ghazzālī’s defence of Sufism, deemed by
many Sunni jurists before him to be heretical, went a long way in bringing
acceptance to the esoteric interpretation of Islam among formal Sunni circles
of learning and brought about a rapprochement between the exoteric and esoteric
dimensions of Islam.
As evidenced by his works,
Ghazzālī was a great synthesizer. He wrote perhaps the most important work in
Islam on ethics, titled the Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm
al-dīn (The Revivification of the Sciences of
Religion), and he himself offered a synopsis of the treatise in exquisite
Persian prose entitled Kīmīyā-yi saʿādat (The Alchemy of Happiness). In the realm of the esoteric teachings of
Sufism he composed al-Risālat al-laduniyyah (The
Wisdom from God) as well a commentary on the Light verse of the Qurʾān, called Mishkāt al-anwār (The Niche of Lights), a work that
influenced Suhrawardī. Mullā Ṣadrā wrote an important commentary upon the same verse that was heavily
influenced by Ghazzālī.
Ghazzālī’s attempt to
establish a balance between the exoteric and the esoteric is evidenced in a
number of his works. In one of his most famous treatises, al-Iqtiṣād fi’l-iʿtiqād (The Just Mean in
Belief), the very use of the word iqtiṣād in the title implies balance between the inward and the outward.
Even though Ghazzālī is
known for his opposition to the Peripatetics, his Maqāṣid
al-falāsifah (The Purposes of the Philosophers) is
itself an excellent summary of mashshāʾī philosophy. Furthermore, a number of his works such as the Book of Knowledge of the Iḥyā’ contain discussions that pertain to Sufi metaphysics and epistemology
and are of considerable philosophical importance, having influenced many later
thinkers. Among his other writings, which discuss ethics and eschatology, one
can mention his Qurʾānic commentaries. Ghazzālī wrote three works on logic: Maḥakk al-naẓar (Touchstone of Speculation), Miʿyār
al-ʿilm (The Criterion of
Knowledge), and al-Qisṭās al-mustaqīm (The Straight Balance). The latter contains a criticism of the
Ismailis, and he also wrote another work, al-Faḍāʾiḥ al-bāṭiniyyah, specifically devoted to a critique of Ismailism. These three works
deal with the principles of logic. Of interest in them is the terminology
Ghazzālī uses, which is based not only on Aristotelian logic but also on the
Qurʾān.
Asserting that the origin of logic is divine revelation, and that even the
Greeks learned their logic from what God had revealed, he was the first Muslim
philosopher to extract the laws of logic and its vocabulary from the Qurʾān. Such prophets as
Abraham and Moses, he argued, had come to know the principles of logic through
revelation, and this accounts for the logical nature of the principles of
religion itself.
There has been much debate
in recent years as to whether Ghazzālī was actually anti-philosophical, or
whether he was merely trying to demonstrate the limits of discursive thought. A
complete discussion of this question goes beyond the scope of this
introduction, but in any event historically the major philosophical
contribution of Ghazzālī lies in his criticism of Peripatetic philosophy.
Ghazzālī first offered a synopsis of Ibn Sīnā’s views in the work titled Maqāṣid al-falāsifah (The
Purposes of the Philosophers). This work, which is practically an Arabic
translation of Ibn Sīnā’s Persian work Dānishnāma-yi ʿalāʾī (The Book of Science Dedicated to ʿAlāʾ al-Dawlah), became, paradoxically, a favourite source for the learning
of Islamic philosophy. It was through the Latin translation of this work that
Ghazzālī came to be known as Algazel in the West, a philosopher ranking with
Ibn Sīnā, not as an adversary to him. Having prepared the ground in this work,
Ghazzālī proceeded to write his magnum opus in the
criticism of mashshāʾī philosophy, entitled Tahāfut al-falāsifah
(The Incoherence of the Philosophers), to which Ibn Rushd was to respond in his
Tahāfut al-tahāfut (The Incoherence of the
Incoherence).
There has been much
discussion as to whether or not it was this work of Ghazzālī that played a
major role in curtailing the power of rationalism in the Islamic world.
However, such a perspective becomes reductive when one takes the complexity of
Islamic thought at the time into consideration. The Islamic world at the time
of Ghazzālī was too large and too intellectually rich and diverse for a single
volume to have such a devastating effect on rationalistic philosophy, not to
mention Ibn Rushd’s decisive success in certain circles
in destroying the possible side effects of Tahāfut
al-falāsifah. Ghazzālī’s deconstructionism may have been more
influential in indirectly preparing the ground for the appearance of schools of
thought as such as the School of ishrāq associated
with Suhrawardī. Among theologians (mutakallimūn),
Ghazzālī began a distinct theological genre, usually
called tahāfut literature, generally marked by an
anti-philosophical spirit.
There were others who were
inspired to write works associated with the concept tahāfut,
among whom are Quṭb al-Dīn Rāwandī (sixth/twelfth century), ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn Ṭūsī (ninth/fifteenth century) and Khwājah-Zādah Muṣliḥ al-Dīn ibn Yūsuf
(ninth/fifteenth century). Among other works inspired by Ghazzālī’s Tahāfut, are Muṣāraʿāt
al-falāsifah (Wrestlings with the Philosophers) of
Muḥammad ʿAbd al-Karīm Shahrastānī
and Taʿjīz al-falāsifah (The
Impotence of the Philosophers) of Imam Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī, both written during
the century following Ghazzālī.
Even though Ghazzālī may not
have been the most outstanding philosopher of Persia, he was the most
influential thinker in the history of the country’s Islamic intellectual
thought, if not in the Islamic world. His contributions to the development of
Shāfiʿī
jurisprudence, Ashʿarite kalām, tafsīr, ethics and Sufism are
extremely significant. Even though his writings curtailed interest in
philosophy in Persia for a limited period, his most important role was
important since it created a change of direction and paved the intellectual
path for a number of other philosophical schools of thought which came to
fruition after him.
The first section of this
chapter is from Ghazzālī’s Mishkāt al-anwār (The
Niche of Lights) followed by al-Risālat al-laduniyyah
(The Wisdom from God), and finally Thalāth rasāʾil
fi’l-maʿrifah (Three Treatises
on Knowledge). Together, they provide a comprehensive picture of Ghazzālī’s
views on philosophical Sufism. In the Mishkāt al-anwār
(The Niche of Lights) he uses the Neoplatonic scheme of emanation to explain
the hierarchy of lights. Within this context, traditional concepts that are
prevalent in gnosis, such as knowledge of God, refinement of character, and the
problem of unity and multiplicity are discussed.
The second section, al-Risālat al-laduniyyah (The Wisdom from God), begins with
a brief discussion concerning different worlds, e.g. manifest, hidden, and
angelic, and continues with an examination of the divisions of the soul. This
treatise also addresses different types of knowledge such as intellectual,
religious, and Sufi, as well as various methodologies for acquiring knowledge.
In the Thalāth
rasāʾil fi’l-maʿrifah (Three Treatises on Knowledge), presented in the third section, we
find a discussion on the relationship between soul, heart, spirit, and
intellect. Throughout this section different types of intellects, their
faculties, and their relationship with revelation are discussed.
M. Aminrazavi
Mishkāt al-anwār
Reprinted from Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī, Mishkāt al-anwār, tr. David Buchman as The
Niche of Lights (Provo, UT, 1998), pp. 1–24.
In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the
Merciful
[Author’s Introduction]
My Lord, Thou hast blessed, so increase by
Thy bounty!
(1) Praise belongs to God, Effuser of Lights,
Opener of Eyes, Unveiler of Mysteries, Lifter of Coverings. And blessings be
upon Muḥammad,
light of lights, master of the devotees, beloved of the All-Compeller, bringer
of good news from the All-Forgiver, warner on behalf of the Overwhelming, tamer
of the unbelievers, disgracer of the wicked. And blessings be upon his family
and companions—the good, the pure, the chosen.
(2) Now to begin: You asked
me, O noble brother—may God lead you to search for the greatest felicity, train
you to ascend to the highest summit, anoint your insight with the light of
Reality, and cleanse all other than the Real from your innermost centre—that I
unfold for you the mysteries of the divine lights, along with an interpretation
of the apparent meanings of those recited verses and narrated reports that
allude to the divine lights, like His words, ‘God is the light of the heavens
and the earth’ [24:35]; and [that I explain] the sense of His comparing this
with the niche, the glass, the lamp, the olive, and the tree; and likewise the
saying of the Prophet: ‘God has seventy veils of light and darkness; were He to
lift them, the august glories of His face would burn up everyone whose eyesight
perceived Him.’1
(3) With your question you
have climbed a difficult slope, one before whose upper regions the eyes of the
observers fall back. You have knocked at a locked door that is not to be opened
except for the firmly rooted possessors of knowledge. What is more, not every mystery
is to be unveiled and divulged, and not every truth is to be presented and
disclosed. Indeed, ‘the breasts of the free are the graves of the mysteries.’2
One of the gnostics has said, ‘To divulge the mystery of Lordship is unbelief.’3
Indeed, the Master of the First and the Last [the Prophet] said, ‘There is a
kind of knowledge like the guise of the hidden; none knows it except the
knowers of God. When they speak of it, none denies it except those who are
arrogantly deluded about God.’1 And when the people of arrogant
delusion become many, it becomes necessary to preserve the coverings upon the
face of the mysteries. But I see you as one whose breast has been opened up2
by God through light and whose innermost consciousness has been kept free of
the darknesses of delusion. Hence, in this discipline I will not be niggardly
toward you in alluding to sparks and flashes or giving symbols of realities and
subtleties, for the fear in holding back knowledge from those worthy of it is
not less than that in disseminating it to those not worthy of it.
He who bestows knowledge on the ignorant wastes it,
And he who withholds it from
the worthy has done them wrong.3
(4) So be satisfied
with abridged allusions and brief hints, since the verification of this
discussion would call for laying down principles and explaining details which
my present moment does not allow, nor do my concern and thought turn toward
such things. The keys of hearts are in God’s hand; He opens hearts when He
wills, as He wills, and how He wills. The only thing opening up at this moment
is three chapters.
The First Chapter
Clarifying that the Real Light is God and that
the Name ‘Light’ for Everything Else is Sheer Metaphor, Without Reality
(1) This is clarified through coming to
know the meaning of the word ‘light’ in the first sense of the term, following
the view of the common people; then in the second sense, following the view of
the elect; then in the third sense, following the view of the elect of the
elect. You will then come to know the degrees and realities of the mentioned
lights that are ascribed to the elect of the elect. It will be unveiled to you,
when the degrees of these lights become manifest, that God is the highest and
furthest light, and, when their realities become unveiled, that He is the real,
true light—He alone, without any partner in that.
(2) Regarding the first
sense of the word, for the common people, ‘light’ alludes to manifestation.
Manifestation is a relative affair, since without doubt a thing may be manifest
to one person while remaining non-manifest to another; hence, a thing is
relatively manifest and relatively non-manifest. Its manifestation is
unquestionably ascribed to the faculties of perception. The strongest and most
obvious of these, in the view of the common people, are the senses, among which
is the sense of sight.
(3) In relation to visual
sensation, things are of three kinds: first are those which cannot be seen in
themselves, such as dark bodies. Second are those which can be seen in
themselves but by which other things cannot be seen, such as bright bodies or
stars and glowing coals that are not aflame. Third are those which can be seen
in themselves and by which other things can be seen, such as the sun, the moon,
a lamp, and a flaming fire. ‘Light’ is a name that belongs to this third kind.
(4) Sometimes the name
‘light’ is applied to that which flows forth from these bodies onto the
manifest dimensions of dense bodies. Then it is said, ‘The earth is
illuminated,’ ‘The light of the sun has fallen on the earth,’ and ‘The light of
the lamp has fallen on the wall and the clothing.’ Sometimes the name ‘light’
is applied to these same radiant bodies, since they are also lit up in
themselves.
(5) In sum, ‘light’ consists
of that which is seen in itself and through which other things are seen, such
as the sun. This is its definition and reality in the first sense.
A fine point
(6) The mystery and spirit of light is
manifestation to perception. Perception is conditional upon the existence of
light and also upon the existence of the seeing eye. For light is that which is
manifest and makes manifest; but for the blind, lights are neither manifest nor
do they make things manifest. Hence, the seeing spirit and the existence of
manifest light are equivalent in that they are inescapable supports for
perception. What is more, the seeing spirit is superior to the manifest light,
since it perceives and through it perception takes place. As for light, it
neither perceives nor does perception take place through it; rather, when it is
there, perception takes place. Therefore, it is more appropriate that the name
‘light’ be given to the seeing light than to the seen light.
(7) People apply the name
‘light’ to the light of the seeing eye. They say that the light of the bat’s
eyesight is weak, the light of the nearsighted man’s eyesight is weak, the blind
man lacks the light of eyesight, and the colour black gathers and strengthens
the light of eyesight. [They say that] the divine wisdom singled out the colour
black for the eyelids and made them surround the eye in order to gather the
brightness of the eye. As for the colour white, it disperses the eye’s
brightness and weakens its light to such a degree that persistent looking at
radiant whiteness, or at the light of the sun, dazzles and effaces the light of
the eye, just as the weak becomes effaced next to the strong.1
(8) Thus, you have come to
know that the seeing spirit is called light, and why it is called light, and
why this name is to be preferred. This is the second sense of the term, the
sense followed by the elect.
(9) Know that eyesight’s light is branded
with many kinds of imperfection: it sees other things while not seeing itself.
It does not see what is far away from it. It does not see what is behind a
veil. It sees manifest things, but not non-manifest ones. It sees some of the
existent things, but not all of them. It sees the finite things, but not that
which is infinite. And it commits many errors in seeing: it sees the large as
small, the far as near, the motionless as moving, and the moving as motionless.
These seven imperfections are never separate from the outward eye. If there is
an eye to be found among the eyes, free of all these imperfections, tell me
whether or not it is more worthy of the name ‘light’!
(10) Know also that the
heart of the human being has an eye whose qualities of perfection are precisely
this [lack of the seven imperfections]. It is this eye that is sometimes called
the rational faculty, sometimes the spirit, and sometimes the human soul.
However, put aside these expressions; because when they become many, they make
the person of weak insight imagine many meanings. What we mean by this eye is
that meaning whereby the rational person is distinguished from suckling
infants, animals, and madmen. Therefore, let us call it the ‘rational faculty’,
in keeping with the technical terms of most people. Therefore, we say:
(11) The rational faculty is
more worthy to be named light than the outward eye, because its measure is
lifted beyond the seven imperfections, which are: [First,] that the eye cannot
see itself, while the rational faculty perceives other things and its own
attributes. Since it perceives itself as knowing and powerful, it perceives its
knowledge of itself, it perceives its knowledge of its knowledge of itself, and
so on ad infinitum. This is a characteristic that is
inconceivable in that which perceives through bodily instruments. And behind
this lies a mystery that would take too long to explain.
(12) The second imperfection
is that the eye does not see what is far from it and what is extremely close to
it, while near and far are equal for the rational faculty. In a glance it
ascends to the highest heavens, and with a look it descends down into the
confines of the earths. Indeed, when the realities have been ascertained, it
will be unveiled that the rational faculty is so pure that the meanings of near
and far that are assigned to bodily things cannot revolve in the regions of its
holiness. The rational faculty is a sample of the light of God; and a sample
does not lack a certain resemblance, though it never climbs to the peak of
equality. Perhaps this discussion has moved you to fathom the mystery of the
Prophet’s words, ‘Verily, God created Adam upon ‘His own form.’1
But to enter into this discussion now is inappropriate.
(13) The third imperfection
is that the eye does not perceive what lies behind veils, while the rational
faculty moves freely around the throne [of God, around His] footstool, [around]
that which lies behind the veils of the heavens, and around the higher plenum
and the most exalted dominion [of God]. In the same way, it moves freely around
its own specific world and nearby kingdom—that is, its own body. Or rather, no
realities whatsoever are veiled from the rational faculty. As for the veiling
undergone by the rational faculty when it does become veiled, this is the
rational faculty’s veiling itself due to certain attributes that are associated
with it. In a similar way, the eye becomes veiled from itself when the eyelids
are closed. You will come to know about this in chapter three of this book.
(14) The fourth imperfection
is that the eye perceives the manifest dimension and surface of things, not
their non-manifest dimension. Or rather, [it perceives] their frames and forms,
not their realities. But the rational faculty penetrates non-manifest
dimensions and mysteries of things, perceiving their realities and their
spirits. It searches out their secondary cause, their deeper cause, their ultimate
end, and the wisdom [in their existence]. [It discovers] what a thing was
created from, how it was created, why it was created, and how many meanings
were involved in its being brought together and compounded. [It finds out] on
what level of existence a thing has come to dwell, what its relationship is
with its Creator, and what its relationship is with the rest of His creatures.
It makes many more discoveries which to explain would take too long, so we will
cut this short.
(15) The fifth imperfection
is that the eye sees only some existent things, since it fails to see the
objects of the rational faculty and [also] many of the objects of sensation. It
does not perceive sounds, odours, flavours, heat, cold, and the perceptual
faculties—namely, the faculties of hearing, seeing, smelling, and tasting. Nor,
moreover, [does it perceive] the inner attributes of the soul, such as joy,
happiness, grief, sadness, pain, pleasure, passionate love, appetite, power,
desire, knowledge, and so forth. These existent things cannot be enumerated or
counted. Hence, the eye has a narrow domain and an abridged channel. It cannot
pass beyond the world of colours and shapes, which are the most base of
existent things. After all, bodies, at root, are the most base of existent
things.
(16) All existent things are
the domain of the rational faculty, since it perceives those things which we
have listed and an even greater number which we have not. Hence, the rational
faculty moves freely over all things and passes an indisputable and truthful
judgment upon them. Inward mysteries are apparent to it, and hidden meanings
are disclosed to it. How can the outward eye vie with it and seek to keep up
with it in worthiness for the name ‘light’?
(17) No, the eye is light in
relation to other things, but it is darkness in relation to the rational
faculty. Or rather, the eye is one of the rational faculty’s spies. It has been
entrusted with the most base of the rational faculty’s storehouses—the
storehouse of the world of colours and shapes—in order that the eye may take
news of this world up to the rational faculty’s presence. Thereupon, the
rational faculty decides about these reports in virtue of what its piercing
view and penetrating judgment demand. The five senses
are the rational faculty’s spies, and besides these it has spies in the
non-manifest dimension: imagination, fantasy, reflection, recollection, and
memory. Beyond these spies are servants and soldiers who are subject to the
rational faculty in its own world. The rational faculty subjugates them and has
free disposal over them just as a king subjugates his vassals, or even more
intensely. To explain this would take too long, and I have mentioned this in
one of the books of the Iḥyāʾ, ‘Ajāʿib
al-qalb [The Wonders of the Heart].1
(18) The sixth imperfection
is that the eye does not see what is infinite, since it sees the attributes of
bodies, and bodies can only be conceived of as finite. But the rational faculty
perceives objects of knowledge, and it is inconceivable that objects of
knowledge be finite. Certainly, when the rational faculty observes
differentiated knowledge, then what is actually present with it can only be
infinite. But it has the potential to perceive what is infinite. However, to
explain this would take too long. If you desire an example of this, take it
from things that are obvious: The rational faculty perceives numbers, and
numbers are infinite. Or rather, it perceives the multiples of the numbers two,
three, and so on, and no one can conceive of an end to these. It perceives the
different types of relationships that exist among numbers, and an end to these
is also inconceivable. Finally, it perceives its own knowledge of something,
the knowledge of its knowledge of that thing, and its knowledge of its
knowledge of its knowledge. Hence, in this single instance the rational
faculty’s potential is infinite.
(19) The seventh
imperfection is that the eye sees large things as small. Hence, it sees the sun
as having the size of a shield and the stars in the form of dinars scattered
upon a blue carpet. The rational faculty, however, perceives the stars and the
sun as many times larger than the earth. The eye sees the stars as though they
were motionless, [sees] shadows as motionless in front of it, and [sees] a boy
as motionless during his growth. But the rational faculty perceives that the
boy is in motion through his perpetual growth and increase, that the shadow is
perpetually moving, and that the stars move many miles at each instant. Thus
the Prophet said to Gabriel, ‘Does the sun move?’ He answered, ‘No—Yes!’ The
Prophet then said, ‘How is that?’ Gabriel replied, ‘From the time I said “No”
to the time I said “Yes”, it moved a journey of five hundred years.’2
(20) Eyesight commits many
sorts of errors, while the rational faculty is free of them. You may say, ‘We
see the people of the rational faculty committing errors in their
consideration’. But you should know that these people have imaginings,
fantasies, and beliefs and that they suppose that the properties of these are
the same as those of the rational faculty. Hence, the errors are attributable
to these things. We explained all this in the books Miʿyār al-ʿilm (The Standard of Knowledge) and Maḥakk
al-naẓar (The Touchstone of
Consideration).
(21) As for the rational
faculty, once it disengages itself from the coverings of fantasy and
imagination, it is inconceivable that it can commit an error. On the contrary,
it will see things as they are in themselves. However, for the rational faculty
to achieve disengagement is extremely difficult. Its disengagement from the
pull of these things only becomes perfected after death, when the wrappings are
lifted, the mysteries are disclosed, and everyone meets face to face the good
or evil that he has sent forward.1 He witnesses a book that ‘leaves
nothing behind, great or small, but it has numbered it’ [Qurʾān 18:49]. At that time
it is said, ‘Therefore, We have removed from thee thy covering, so thine
eyesight today is piercing’ [Qurʾān 50:22]. This covering is the covering of imagination, fantasy, and
other things. At this time those deluded by their fantasies, their corrupt
beliefs, and their unreal imaginations say, ‘Our Lord, we have seen and heard;
now return us, that we may do good works, for we have sure faith’ [Qurʾān 32:12].
(22) You have come to know
through this discussion that the eye is more worthy of the name ‘light’ than
the well-known light. Further, you have come to know that the rational faculty
is more worthy of the name ‘light’ than the eye. Indeed, there is such a
difference between the two that it is correct to say that the rational faculty
is more worthy—or, rather, that the rational faculty in truth deserves the name
alone.
A fine point
(23) Know that although rational faculties
see, but the objects that are seen are not with them in the same manner. On the
contrary, some of [the objects] are with them as if they were actually present,
such as self-evident knowledge. For example, the rational faculty knows that a
single thing cannot be both eternal and created, or both existent and
non-existent; that a single statement cannot be both true and false; that when
a judgment about a thing has been made, the same judgment can be made for
similar things; and that when a more specific thing exists, the more general
must exist. Thus, if blackness exists, colour must exist, and if man exists,
animals must exist. But the rational faculty does not see the contrary of this
as necessary, since the existence of blackness does not necessarily follow from
the existence of colour, nor the existence of man from the existence of
animals. There are also other self-evident statements pertaining to necessary, possible,
and impossible things.
(24) There are other objects
of sight which, when submitted to the rational faculty, do not always join with
it. Or rather, it must be shaken, and fire must be kindled within it; it must
take notice of them by having them called to its attention. This is the case
with affairs that pertain to rational consideration. However, nothing other
than speech of wisdom can bring things to its attention; for when the light of
wisdom radiates, the rational faculty comes to see in actuality, after having
been able to see only potentially.
(25) The greatest wisdom is
the speech of God. Among [those things that] He has spoken is the Qurʾān specifically. For the
eye of the rational faculty, the Qurʾān’s verses take the place that is occupied by the sun’s light for the
outward eye, since seeing occurs through it. Hence, it is appropriate for the
Qurʾān to
be named ‘light’, just as the light of the sun is named ‘light’. The Qurʾān is like the light of
the sun, while the rational faculty is like the light of the eye. In this way,
we should understand the meaning of His words, ‘Therefore, have faith in God
and His messenger and in the light which We have sent down’ [Qurʾān 64:8] and His Words,
‘A proof has now come to you from your Lord. We have sent it down to you as a
clear light’ [Qurʾān 4:174].
A supplement to this fine point
(26) You have learned from this discussion
that the eye is of two types: outward and inward. The outward eye derives from
the world of sensation and visibility, while the inward eye derives from
another world—namely, the angelic realm.1 Each of these two
eyes has a sun and a light through which sight in these worlds is perfected.
One of the two suns is outward, while the other is inward. The outward sun
belongs to the visible world; it is the sun perceived by the senses. The other
belongs to the world of angelic realm; it is the Qurʾān and the revealed books of God.
(27) When this has been
unveiled to you with complete unveiling, then the first door of the world of
the angelic realm will have been opened to you. In this world there are wonders
in relation to which the visible world will be disdained. If a person does not
travel to this world, then, while incapacity makes him sit in the lowlands of
the visible world, he remains a beast deprived of the specific characteristic
of humanity. Or rather, he is more astray than a beast, since the beast does
not have the good fortune [of being able] to ascend with the wings of flight to
this world [of the angelic realm]. That is why God says, ‘They are like
cattle—nay, rather, they are further astray’ [Qurʾān 7:179].
(28) Know also that the
visible world in relation to the world of the angelic realm is like the shell
in relation to the kernel, the form and the body in relation to the spirit,
darkness in relation to light, and the low in relation to the high. That is why
the world of the angelic realm is called the ‘high world’, the ‘spiritual
world’, and the ‘luminous world’, while standing opposite to it is the low, the
corporeal, and the dark world. And do not suppose that by the ‘high world’ we
mean the heavens, since they are ‘high’ and ‘above’ only
in respect to the visible and sensible world, and the beasts share in
perceiving them.
(29) As for the servant, the
door to the world of the angelic realm will not open for him and he will not
assume its treats unless, in relation to him, the earth changes to other than
the earth, and the heavens [to other than the heavens].1 Then everything that
enters into the senses and imagination will become his earth, and this includes
the heavens; and whatever stands beyond the senses will be his heaven. This is
the first ascent for every traveller who has begun his journey to the proximity
of the Lordly Presence.
(30) The human being has
been reduced to the lowest of the low.2 From there he climbs
to the highest world. As for the angels, they are part of the world of the
angelic realm; they devote themselves to the Presence of the Holy, and from
there they oversee the lowest world. It is for this reason that the Prophet
said, ‘Verily, God created the creatures in darkness, and then He cast upon
them of His light.’3 He also said, ‘God has angels who are better informed of people’s
deeds than people themselves.’4
(31) When the ascent of the
prophets reaches its farthest point, when they look down from there upon the
low, and when they gaze from top to bottom, they become informed of the hearts
of the servants and gaze upon a certain amount of the sciences of the unseen.
For when someone is in the world of the angelic realm, he is with God, ‘and
with Him are the keys to the unseen’ [Qurʾān 6:59]. In other words, from God the
secondary causes of existent things descend into the visible world, while the
visible world is one of the effects of the world of the angelic realm. The
visible world comes forth from the world of the angelic realm just as the
shadow comes forth from the thing that throws it, the fruit comes forth from
the tree, and the effect comes forth from the secondary cause. The keys to
knowledge of effects are found only in their secondary causes. Hence, the
visible world is a similitude of the world of the angelic realm—as will be
mentioned in the clarification of the niche, the lamp, and the tree. This is
because the effect cannot fail to parallel its secondary cause or to have some
kind of resemblance with it, whether near or far. But this needs deep
investigation. He who gains knowledge of the innermost reality of this
discussion will easily have unveiled for himself the realities of the
similitudes of the Qurʾān.
A fine point that
goes back to the reality of light
(32) We say: That which sees itself and
others is more worthy of the name ‘light’. So if it be something that also
allows other things to see, while seeing itself and others, then it is [even]
more worthy of the name ‘light’ than that which has no effect at all on others.
Or rather, it is more appropriate that it should be called a ‘light-giving
lamp’, since it pours forth its light upon other things. This characteristic is
found in the holy prophetic spirit, because it is through this spirit that many
types of knowledge are poured forth upon creatures. Hence, we understand the
meaning of God’s naming Muḥammad a ‘light-giving lamp’ [Qurʾān 33:46]. All the prophets are lamps, and
so are the ʿulamāʾ, but the disparity between them is beyond reckoning.
A fine point
(33) If it is proper to call that from
which the light of vision comes a ‘light-giving lamp’, then it is appropriate
to allude to that by which the lamp itself is kindled as fire. Hence, these
earthly lamps originally become kindled only from the high lights. As for the
holy prophetic spirit, ‘its oil well-nigh would shine, even if no fire touched
it’, but it only becomes ‘light upon light’ [Qurʾān 24:35] when touched by fire.
(34) It is appropriate that
the place from which the earthly spirits are kindled be [called] the high
divine spirit that has been described by ʿAlī and Ibn ʿAbbās—God be pleased with them—both of whom
said, ‘God has an angel who has seventy thousand faces; in every face are
seventy thousand tongues, through all of which he glorifies God.’ It is this
angel who stands before all the other angels, for it is said that the day of
resurrection is ‘the day when the Spirit and the angels stand in ranks’ [Qurʾān 78:38]. When this
Spirit is viewed in respect to the fact that the earthly lamps are kindled from
it, then the only similitude that this Spirit can have ‘fire’. And one can only
become intimate with this fire ‘on the side of the Mount’ [Qurʾān 28:29].1
A fine point
(35) If the heavenly lights from which the
earthly lights become kindled have a hierarchy such that one light kindles
another, then the light nearest to the First Source is more worthy of the name
‘light’ because it is highest in level. The way to perceive a similitude of
this hierarchy in the visible world is to suppose that moonlight enters through
a window of a house, falls upon a mirror attached to a wall, is reflected from
the mirror to an opposite wall, and turns from that wall to the earth so as to
illuminate it. You know that the light on the earth comes from that on the
wall, the light on the wall from that on the mirror, the light on the mirror
from that in the moon, and the light in the moon from
the light in the sun, since light shines from the sun onto the moon. These four
lights are ranked in levels such that some are higher and more perfect than
others. Each one has a ‘known station’1 and a specific degree
which it does not overstep.
(36) Know that it has been
unveiled to the possessors of insights that the lights of the angelic realm are
likewise only to be found in a hierarchy, and that the light ‘brought near’2
is the one that is closest to the Furthest Light. Hence, it is not unlikely
that the level of Isrāfīl (Raphael) is above that of Gabriel; that among the
angels is one who is the most near because of the nearness of his degree to the
Lordly Presence, which is the source of all lights; that among the angels is
the furthest; and that between these two are so many degrees that they cannot
be counted. The only thing known about these degrees of light is that there are
many of them and that their hierarchy derives from their stations and ranks.
They are just as they themselves describe, since they have said, ‘We are those
ranged in ranks; we are they that give glory’ [Qurʾān 37:165–66].3
A fine point
(37) Since you have recognized that lights
have a hierarchy, know also that this hierarchy does not continue on to
infinity. Rather, it climbs to the First Source, which is light in itself and
by itself and to which no light comes from any other. From this light all the
lights shine forth, according to the hierarchy. Consider now if the name
‘light’ is more appropriate and worthy for that which is illuminated and
borrows its light from another, or for that which is luminous in itself and
which bestows light upon everything else. It seems to me that the truth of this
is not hidden from you. Thus, it is verified that the name ‘light’ is more
appropriate for the Furthest, Highest Light, beyond which there is no light and
from which light descends to others.
A reality
(38) Or rather, I say—without trepidation—that
the name ‘light’ for things other than the First Light is a sheer metaphor,
since everything other than that Light, when viewed in itself, has no light of
its own in respect to its own self. On the contrary, its luminosity is borrowed
from another, and this borrowed luminosity is not supported by itself, but
rather by another. To attribute a borrowed thing to the one who has borrowed it
is sheer metaphor. Do you think that someone who borrows clothing, a horse, a
blanket, and a saddle, and who rides the horse when the lender let him do so
and [only] to the extent that he allows is truly rich, or [just] metaphorically
so? Is the lender rich or the borrower? It is obvious! In himself the borrower
is poor, just as he always was. The only one who is rich is the lender, from
whom come loans and gifts and to whom things are returned and taken back.
(39) So the Real Light is He
in whose hand is ‘the creation and the command’ [Qurʾān 7:54] and from whom illumination comes in
the first place and by whom it is preserved in the second place. No one is a
partner with Him in the reality of this name, nor in being worthy for it,
unless He should name him by it and show him kindness by naming him so, like a
master who shows kindness to his slave by giving him property and then calling
him a master. When the reality is unveiled to the slave, he knows that he
himself and his property belong only to his master, who, of course, has no
partner whatsoever in any of this.
A reality
(40) Now that you recognize that light
goes back to manifestation, to making manifest, and to its various levels, you
should know that there is no darkness more intense than the concealment of
non-existence. For something dark is called ‘dark’ because sight cannot reach
it, so it does not become an existent thing for the observer, even thought it
exists in itself. How can that which does not exist for others or for itself
not be worthy of being the utmost degree of darkness while it stands opposite
to existence, which is light? After all, something that is not manifest in
itself, does not become manifest to others.
(41) Existence can be
classified into the existence that a thing possesses in itself and that which
it possesses from another. When a thing has existence from another, its
existence is borrowed and has no support in itself. When the thing is viewed in
itself and with respect to itself, it is pure non-existence. It only exists
inasmuch as it is ascribed to another. This is not a true existence, just as
you came to know in the example of the borrowing of clothing and wealth. Hence
the Real Existent is God, just as the Real Light is He.
The reality of realities
(42) From here the gnostics climb from the
lowlands of metaphor to the highlands of reality, and they perfect their
ascent. Then they see—witnessing with their own eyes—that there is none in
existence save God and that ‘Everything is perishing except His face’ [Qurʾān 28:88]. [It is] not
that each thing is perishing at one time or at other times, but that it is
perishing from eternity without beginning to eternity without
end. It can only be so conceived since, when the essence of anything other than
He is considered in respect of its own essence, it is sheer non-existence. But
when it is viewed in respect of its own essence, it is sheer non-existence. But
when it is viewed in respect of the ‘face’ to which existence flows forth from
the First, the Real, then it is seen as existing not in itself but through the
face adjacent to its Giver of Existence. Hence, the only existent is the Face
of God.
(43) Each thing has two
faces: a face toward itself, and a face toward its Lord. Viewed in terms of the
face of itself, it is non-existent; but viewed in terms of the face of God, it
exists. Hence, nothing exists but God and His face: ‘Everything is perishing
except His face’ from eternity without beginning to eternity without end.
(44) The gnostics do not
need the day of resurrection to hear the Fashioner proclaim, ‘Whose is the
Kingdom today? God’s, the One, the Overwhelming’ [Qurʾān 40:16]. Rather, this proclamation never
leaves their hearing. They do not understand the saying ‘God is most great’ to
mean that He is greater than other things. God forbid! After all, there is
nothing in existence along with Him that He could be greater than. Or rather,
nothing in existence along with Him that He could be greater than. Or rather,
nothing other than He possesses the level of ‘with-ness’;1 everything possesses
the level of following. Indeed, everything other than God exists only with
respect to the face adjacent to Him. The only existent thing is His Face. It is
absurd to say that God is greater than His Face. Rather, the meaning of ‘God is
most great’ is to say that God is too great for any relation or comparison. He
is too great for anyone other than He—whether it be a prophet or an angel—to
perceive the innermost meaning of His magnificence. Rather, none knows God with
innermost knowledge save God. Or rather, every object of knowledge enters the
power and mastery of the gnostic only after a fashion. Otherwise, that would
contradict God’s majesty and magnificence. This can be verified, as we
mentioned in the book al-Maqṣad
al-asnā fī sharḥ maʿānī asmāʾ Allāh al-ḥusnā (The Highest Goal in the Meanings of God’s most Beautiful Names).2
An allusion
(45) The gnostics, after having ascended
to the heaven of reality, agree that they see nothing in existence save the
One, the Real. Some of them possess this state as a cognitive gnosis. Others,
however, attain this through a state of tasting. Plurality is totally banished
from them, and they become immersed in sheer singularity. Their rational
faculties become so satiated that in this state they are, as it were, stunned.
No room remains in them for the remembrance of any other than God, nor the
remembrance of themselves. Nothing is with them but God. They become
intoxicated with such an intoxication that the ruling authority of their
rational faculty is overthrown. Hence, one of them says, ‘I am the Real!’
another, ‘Glory be to me, how great is my station!’ and still another, ‘There
is nothing in my robe but God!’1
(46) The speech of lovers in
the state of intoxication should be concealed and not spread about. When this
intoxication subsides, the ruling authority of the rational faculty—which is
God’s balance in His earth—is given back to them. They come to know that what
they experienced was not the reality of unification2 but that it was
similar to unification. It was like the words of the lover during a state of
extreme passionate love:
I am He whom I love,
and He whom I love is I!3
(47) It is not unlikely
that a person could look into a mirror in an unexpected place and not see the
mirror at all. He supposes that the form he sees is the mirror’s form and that
it is united with the mirror. Likewise, he could see the wine in a glass and
suppose that the wine is the glass’s colour. When the situation becomes
familiar to him and his foot becomes firmly established within it, he asks for
forgiveness from God and says:
The glass is clear, the wine is clear,
the two are similar, the
affair confused,
As if there is wine and no
glass,
or glass and no wine.4
There is a difference
between saying ‘The wine is the cup’ and ‘It is as if
the wine is the cup.’
(48) When this state gets
the upper hand, it is called ‘extinction’ in relation to the one who possesses
it. Or, rather, it is called ‘extinction from extinction’, since the possessor
of the state is extinct from himself and from his own extinction. For, he is
conscious neither of himself in that state, nor of his own unconsciousness of
himself. If he were conscious of his own unconsciousness, then he would [still]
be conscious of himself. In relation to the one immersed in it, this state is
called ‘unification’, according to the language of metaphor, or is called
‘declaring God’s unity,’ according to the language of reality. And behind these
realities there are also mysteries, but it would take too long to delve into
them.
Conclusion
(49) Perhaps you desire to know the manner
in which God’s light is ascribed to the heavens and the earth—or, rather, the
manner in which God is the light of the heavens and the earth in His own
essence. It is not appropriate to keep this knowledge hidden from you, since
you already know that God is light, and there is no light other than He, and
that He is the totality of lights and the Universal Light. This is because the
word ‘light’ is an expression for that through which and by which things are
unveiled; in a higher sense, in a still higher sense, it is that through which,
for which, and by which things are unveiled. Then, in the true sense, light is
that through which, for which, and by which things are unveiled and beyond
which there is no light from which this light could be kindled and take
replenishment. Rather, it possesses light in itself, from itself, and for
itself, not from another. Moreover, you know that only the First Light has
these qualities.
(50) In addition, you know
that the heavens and the earth are filled with light from the two levels of
light; that is, the light ascribed to eyesight and [the light ascribed] to
insight; or, in other words, [light ascribed] to the senses and to the rational
faculty. As for the light ascribed to eyesight, that [light] is the stars, the
sun, and the moon that we see in the heavens, and their rays that are deployed
over everything on the earth that we see. Through [this light] the diverse
colours become manifest, especially in springtime. This light is also deployed
over every situation of the animals, minerals, and all types of existent
things. Were it not for these rays, colours would have no manifestation—or,
rather, no existence; and all shapes and measures that become manifest to the
senses are perceived by the function of colours. The perception of colours is
inconceivable without these rays.
(51) As for the
suprasensory, rational lights, the higher world is filled with them; they are
the substances of the angels. The lower world is also filled with them; they
are animal life and human life. Through the low, human light, the proper order
of the world of lowness becomes manifest, just as through the angelic light the
proper order of the world of highness becomes manifest. This is what God means
by His words: ‘He configured you from the earth and has given you to live
therein’ [Qurʾān 11:61]. He also said, ‘He will surely make you vicegerent in the
earth’ [Qurʾān 24:55]. Again, He said, ‘And He has appointed you to be vicegerents
in the earth’ [Qurʾān 27:62]. And He said, ‘I am setting in the earth a vicegerent’ [Qurʾān 2:30].
(52) Once you have come to
know this, you will know that the world in its entirety is filled with both
manifest, visual lights and non-manifest, rational lights. Then you will know the
following: The low lights flow forth from one another just as light flows forth
from a lamp. The lamp is the holy prophetic spirit. The holy prophetic spirits
are kindled from the high spirits, just as a lamp is kindled from a light. Some
of the high things kindle each other, and their hierarchy is a hierarchy of
stations. Then all of them climb to the Light of lights, their Origin, their
First Source. This is God alone, who has no partner. All other lights are
borrowed. The only true light is His. Everything is His light—or, rather, He is
everything. Or, rather, nothing possesses ‘ipseity’ other than He, except in a
metaphorical sense. Therefore, there is no light except His light.
(53) Other lights are lights
derived from the light that is adjacent to Him, not from His own Essence. Thus,
the face of every possessor of a face is toward Him and turned in His
direction. ‘Whithersoever you turn, there is the face of God’ [Qurʾān 2:115]. Hence, there
is no god but He. For, ‘god’ is an expression for that toward which a face
turns through worship and becoming godlike. Here I mean the faces of the
hearts, since they are lights. Indeed, just as there is no god but He, so also
there is no he but He, because ‘he’ is an expression for whatever may be
pointed to, and there is no pointing to anything but Him. Or, rather, whenever
you point to something, in reality you are pointing to Him. If you do not know
this, that is because you are heedless of ‘the Reality of realities’ that we
mentioned.
(54) One does not point to
the light of the sun but, rather, to the sun. In the obvious sense of this
example, everything in existence is related to God just as light is related to
the sun. Therefore, ‘There is no god but God’ is the declaration of God’s unity
of the common people, while ‘There is no he but He’ is the declaration of God’s
unity of the elect, since this declaration of God’s unity is more complete,
more specific, more comprehensive, more worthy, and more precise. It is more
able to make its possessor enter into sheer singularity and utter oneness.
(55) The final end of the
creatures’ ascent is the kingdom of singularity. Beyond it, there is no place
to climb. Climbing is inconceivable without plurality, since climbing is a sort
of relation that demands something away from which one climbs and something
toward which one climbs. But when plurality disappears, oneness is actualized,
relationships are nullified, and allusions are swept away. There remains
neither high or low, nor descending and ascending. Climbing is impossible, so
ascent is impossible. Hence, there is no highness beyond the highest, no
plurality alongside oneness, and no ascent when plurality is negated. If there
is a change of state, it is through descent to the heaven of this world1—that
is, through viewing the low from the high, since the highest, though it has a
lower, does not have a higher.
(56)
This is the ultimate of goals and the final end of everything searched for. He
who knows it knows it, and he who denies it is ignorant of it. It belongs to
the ‘kind of knowledge which is like the guise of the hidden; none knows it
except those who know God. When they speak of it, none denies it except those
who are arrogantly deluded about God.’1
(57) It is not unlikely that
the ʿulamāʾ will say that ‘the descent to the heaven of this world’ is the descent
of an angel, for the ʿulamāʾ come up with even more unlikely ideas. For example, one of them says
that the person who is drowned in singularity also has a descent to the heaven
of this world—namely, his descent to employ his senses or move his limbs. This
is alluded to in God’s words: ‘I become the hearing by which he hears, the
seeing by which he sees, and the tongue by which he speaks.’2
When He is his hearing, his sight, and his tongue, then He alone hears, sees,
and speaks. This is alluded to in His words: ‘I was sick and you did not visit
me,’3 and so on to the end of the narration. Hence, the movements of this
person who has realized God’s unity come from the heaven of this world. His
sensations, like hearing and seeing, come from a higher heaven, and his
rational faculty is above that. He climbs from the heaven of the rational
faculty to the utmost degree of the ascent of the creatures. The kingdom of
singularity completes the seven levels. Then he sits upon the throne of oneness
and from it governs the affair of the levels of his heavens.4
(58) It may happen that an
observer considering this person will apply the words, ‘God created Adam upon
the form of the All-Merciful’, unless he considers carefully and comes to know
that this saying has an interpretation, like the words ‘I am the Real!’ and
‘Glory be to Me!’ Or rather, it is like God’s words, to Moses, ‘I was sick and
you did not visit Me’, and His words, ‘I am his hearing, his seeing, and his tongue.’ I think I will hold back from clarification,
because I see that you are incapable of bearing anything greater than this.
Some encouragement
(59) Perhaps your aspiration does not rise
high enough for these words, but rather falls short below their summit. So take
for yourself words that are nearer to your understanding and more suitable to
your weakness.
(60) Know that you can come
to know the meaning of the fact that God is the light of the heavens and the
earth in relation to manifest, visual light. For example, when you see the
lights and greenness of springtime in the brightness of day, you do not doubt
that you see colours. But you may suppose that you do not see anything along
with colours, since you say, ‘I see nothing with greenness other than
greenness.’ A group of people have insisted on this, since they suppose that
light has no meaning and that there is nothing along with colours except
colours. Hence, they deny the existence of light, even though it is the most
manifest of things. How could it not be? For through it things become manifest.
It is light which is seen in itself and through which other things are seen, as
we said earlier.
(61) When the sun sets, when
lamps are put away, and when shadows fall, the deniers perceive a self-evident
distinction between the locus of the shadow and the place of brightness. Hence,
they confess that light is a meaning beyond colours that is perceived along
with colours. It is as if the intensity of light’s disclosure prevents it from
being perceived and the intensity of its manifestation keeps it hidden.
Manifestation may be the cause of concealedness. When a thing passes its own
limit, it reverts to its opposite.
(62) Now that you have
recognized this, you should know that the masters of insight never see a thing
without seeing God along with it. One of them might add to this and say, ‘I
never see a thing without seeing God before it’.1 This is because one
of them may see things through God, while another may see the things and see
Him through the things. Allusion to the first is made by His words, ‘Suffices
it not as to thy Lord, that He is witness over everything?’ [Qurʾān 41:53]. Allusion to
the second is made with His words, ‘We will show them Our signs in the
horizons’ [Qurʾān 41:53]. The first is a possessor of witnessing, while the second is
a possessor of conclusions that he draws about Him. The first is the degree of
the righteous,2 while the second is the degree of those firmly rooted in knowledge.
There is nothing after these two except the degree of those who are heedless
and veiled.
(63)
Now that you have recognized this, you should know that just as everything
becomes manifest to eyesight through outward light, so also everything becomes
manifest to inward insight through God. God is with everything and not separate
from it. Then He makes everything manifest. In the same way, light is with all
things, and through it they become manifest. But here a difference remains: It
is conceivable that outward light may disappear through the setting of the sun.
It becomes veiled so that shadow appears. As for the divine light through which
everything becomes manifest, its disappearance is inconceivable. Or, rather, it
is impossible for it to change, so it remains perpetually with the things.
(64) Thus, the way of
drawing conclusions about God through separation is cut off. If we suppose that
God’s light were to disappear, then the heavens and the earth would be
destroyed. Because of this separation, something would be perceived that would
force one to recognize that it makes things manifest. But since all things are
exactly the same in testifying to the oneness of their Creator, differences
disappear and the way becomes hidden.
(65) The obvious way to
reach knowledge of things is through opposites. But when something neither
changes nor has opposites, all states are alike in giving witness to it. Hence,
it is not unreasonable that God’s light be hidden, that its concealedness
derive from the intensity of its disclosure, and his hiddenness stems from the
radiance of its brightness. So glory be to Him who is hidden from creatures
through the intensity of His manifestation and veiled from them because of the
radiance of His Light!
(66) It may be that some
people will fall short of understanding the innermost meaning of these words.
Hence, they will understand our words, ‘God is with everything, just as light
is with the things’, to mean that He is in each place—high exalted and holy is
He from being ascribed to place! Probably the best way not to stir up such
imaginings is to say that He is before everything, that He is above everything,
and that He makes everything manifest. This is what we mean by our saying that
‘He is with everything’. Moreover, it is not hidden from you that the
manifester is above and before everything made manifest, although it is with
everything in a certain respect. However, [the manifester] is with [everything]
in one respect and before it in another respect, so you should not suppose that
this is a contradiction. Take an example from sensory objects, which lie at
your level of knowledge: Consider how the movement of a hand is both with the
movement of its shadow and before it. He whose breast cannot embrace knowledge
of this should abandon this type of science. There are men for every science,
and ‘the way is eased for each person to that for which he was created’.1
1. Muslim Nayshābūrī, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, vol. 1, p. 111.
2. A proverb attributed to
Sufis.
3. This saying with different
wording is ascribed to Sahl b. ʿAbd Allāh Tustarī.
1. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī, al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, vol. 2, p. 5.
2. He is alluding to v. 22 of Sūrat al-zumar.
3. This is a famous poem by Muḥammad b. Idrīs al-Shāfiʿī.
1. Ghazzālī uses the term
‘light of the eye’ to describe the eye’s power to see.
1. This is a sound ḥadīth (see Wensinck, Concordance, 2:71).
1. See Ghazzālī, Iḥyāʾ, 3:7–74. A partial English
translation of A Book Setting Forth the Wonders of the Heart
is provided in Appendix V of Ghazzālī, Freedom and Fulfilment,
pp. 363–382.
2. This ḥadīth is not found in Wensinck’s Concordance and is not listed in the ḥadīth index of Ghazzālī’s Iḥyāʾ.
1. This is in reference to Qurʾān 3:30: ‘The day every soul shall
find what it has done of good brought forward, and what it has done of evil.’
1. The term ‘angelic realm’ (malakūt) is derived from the Qurʾān (6:75; 7:185; 23:88; 36–83).
1. An allusion to Qurʾān 14:48: ‘Upon the day the
earth shall be changed to other than the earth, and the heavens, and they sally
forth unto God, the One, the Overwhelming.’
2. This is an allusion to Qurʾān, 95:4–5: ‘We indeed
created man in the fairest stature, then We reduced him to the lowest of the
low.’
3. This is a variation of a
sound ḥadīth (see Tirmidhī, Īmān
18 and Aḥmad 2:176) that reads, ‘God created His creatures in
darkness, then cast upon them of His light.’
4. This ḥadīth is neither mentioned in
Wensinck’s Concordance nor listed in the ḥadīth index of Ghazzālī’s Iḥyāʾ.
1. This is in reference to the
Qurʾānic
version of Moses’ encounter with God through the burning bush on Mount Sinai.
1. This is an allusion to Qurʾān 37:164–66: ‘None of us is
there, but has a known station, we are those ranged in ranks, we are they that
give glory.’
2. ‘Those brought near to God’
(al-muqarrabūn) is a title that the Qurʾān (4:172) gives to the
angels.
3. For a discussion of the role
and meaning of angels in Islamic cosmology, see Sachiko Murata, ‘Angels’, in Islamic Spirituality Foundations, ed. S. H. Nasr (New York,
1987).
1. Maʿiyyah, literally ‘with-ness,’ is a
term derived from Qurʾān 57:4: ‘He is with you wherever you are.’
2. For an English translation
of this book, see al-Ghazzālī, The Ninety-Nine Beautiful
Names of God, tr. D. Burrell and N. Daher (Cambridge, 1993).
1. These are famous ecstatic
utterances, the first by Manṣūr Ḥallāj (d. 922) and the next two by
Bāyazīd Basṭāmī (d. 875). See Ernst, Words of Ecstasy,
p. 3, p. 11, and passim.
2. ‘Unification’ implies the
uniting of two things and is normally condemned as a heresy in Islamic thought
when it is used to explain the unity of God and His creation. See Chittick and
Wilson’s discussion of ‘unificationism’ in Fakhruddīn ʿIrāqī, Divine
Flashes, tr. and ed. William C. Chittick and Peter Lamborn Wilson (New
York, 1982), pp. 145–146.
3. The ‘lover’ here is Ḥallāj, and this is one-half
of a line of a famous poem by him.
4. This oft-quoted poem is by Ṣāḥib ibn ʿAbbād (d. 995). See ʿIraqī, Divine
Flashes, 82.
1. The descent to the heaven of
this world is mentioned in a well-known ḥadīth, the text of which is as
follows: Our Lord descends to the heaven of this world every night and says,
‘Is there any supplicant? Is there anyone asking for forgiveness?’ This ḥadīth is provided with minor
variations in Muslim, Muṣāriʿīn, 17, and Aḥmad 2:433 and 3:34.
1. Ghazzālī has already cited
this as a ḥadīth.
2. This is a part of a sound ḥadīth (see Bukhārī, Riqāq, 38). A variation of this ḥadīth reads as follows: ‘I love
nothing that draws My servant near to Me more than [I love] what I have made
obligatory for him. My servant never ceases drawing near to Me through
supererogatory works until I love him. Then when I love him, I am his hearing
through which he hears, his sight through which he sees, his hand through which
he grasps, and his foot through which he walks.’ This translation is from
Murata, Tao of Islam, 253.
3. The first part of the
complete ḥadīth found in Muslim, Birr,
43. is as follows: On the Day of Resurrection God will say, ‘O son of Adam, I
was ill and you did not visit Me’. He will reply, ‘How should I visit Thee, when
Thou art Lord of the worlds?’ He will reply, ‘Did you not know that my servant
so-and-so was ill, but you did not visit him? Did you not know that had you
visited him, you would have found Me with him?’ This translation is from
William C. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-ʿArabī’s
Metaphysics of Imagination (Albany, NY, 1989), 392 n. 33.
4. Allusion to four Qur’ānic
verses: ‘Surely your Lord is God, who created the heavens and the earth in six
days, and then sat Himself upon the Throne, governing the affair’ (10:3); ‘He
governs the affair from heaven and earth’ (32:5); and also 10:31 and 13:2.
Thus, according to Ghazzālī’s interpretation (taʾwīl) of this verse, the
perfected seeker governs the levels of his own inner world just as God governs
the heavens and the earth—or, rather, his governing himself in this state of
singularity is identical with God governing himself.
1. According to Ibn ʿArabī (d. 1240), this saying
belongs to the Prophet’s relative through marriage and first political and
religious successor—the first of the four ‘rightly guided’ caliphs—Abū Bakr (d.
634). See Chittick, Sufi Path of Knowledge, 102, 178,
215, 348.
2. Because of Abū Bakr’s piety
during the Prophet’s lifetime, he acquired the surname al-Ṣiddīq, ‘the Righteous’.
1. This is a sound ḥadīth. See Chittick, Faith and Practice, 213, which lists Bukhārī, Tafsīr, Sūrah, 92, 93; Bukhārī, Adab, 120; Bukhārī, Qadar, 4;
Bukhārī, Tawḥīd, 54; and Muslim, Qadar, 6–8.
al-Risālat al-laduniyyah
Reprinted from Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī,
‘al-Risālat al-laduniyyah’, tr. Margaret Smith in JRAS
2 (1938), pp. 188–200; and 3 (1938), pp. 353–360.
Treatise concerning Knowledge from on High
Praise be to God, Who hath adorned the
hearts of His chosen servants with the light of Saintship, and hath nurtured
their spirits with all loving kindness and, with the key of knowledge, hath
opened the door of Unification (tawḥīd), to the gnostics among the wise.1 I pray for the
blessing of God upon our Lord Muḥammad, the lord of the Muslims, who summoned men to the true faith and
carried out its obligations, who guided the community in the right road; and
upon his family, who dwell in the ancestry of protection.
Know that one of my friends
related of a certain theologian that he denied the esoteric knowledge, upon
which the elect of the Sufis rely, and to which the followers of the Mystic Way
trace back their origin. For they declare that knowledge from on high is
greater and more reliable than the types of knowledge acquired and obtained by
study. My friend declared that the aforesaid person asserted: ‘I am unable to
conceive of the knowledge of the Sufis and I do not suppose that anyone in the
world speaks of true knowledge as the result of reflection and deliberation
apart from study and acquisition.’ Then I said: ‘He does not seem to have
investigated the different methods of attainment, nor to know the power of the
human soul and its qualities, and its capacity for receiving impressions of the
Invisible and for attaining to knowledge of the Divine World.’2
Then
my friend said: ‘Yes, that man declares that knowledge consists only of
jurisprudence, that interpretation of the Qurʾān and scholastic theology are sufficient,
and that there is no knowledge beyond them; and these sciences are acquired
only by submitting to instruction and by thorough knowledge.’ I replied: ‘Yes,
and how is the science of interpretation to be learned? For the Qurʾān is an ocean
comprehending all things, and not all that it signifies, nor the full truth of
its interpretation, are to be found in those literary works which are in
general circulation, but the interpretation thereof goes beyond what that
claimant knows.’ My friend said: ‘That man knows only those commentaries which
are well known and spoken about, attributed to Qushayrī and Thaʿlabī and Māwardī and
others.’ I said: ‘He has strayed a long way from the straight road (which leads
to) the truth, for Sulamī, in the Tafsīr,1
made a collection of the statements of those who attained to something like
certainty (i.e. the Sufis), and these statements are not mentioned in other
commentaries. That man who reckons that knowledge consists only of
jurisprudence, scholastic theology, and a commentary which is well known,
apparently does not know the different branches of knowledge, their
distinctions and classes, their true significance, their outward expression, or
their inward meaning. But it is not unusual for one ignorant of a thing to deny
that thing, and that claimant has not tasted the draught of spirituality nor
attained to knowledge from on high, so how can he acknowledge that? I am not
satisfied with his acknowledgment of it, in pretending to know or guessing at
what, in fact, he did not know.’
Then that friend said: ‘I
wish that you would mention some of the classes of the sciences, prove that the
knowledge which you claim (i.e. inspired knowledge) is valid, attribute it to
yourself and maintain your assertion of it.’
I replied: ‘This which you
seek to have explained is exceedingly difficult, but I will show its
antecedents, as far as I can, and in accordance with the time at my disposal
and what occurs to my mind. I do not want to prolong the discussion, for the
best discourse is that which is brief and shows the way.’ I have asked God for
His favour and help, and I have mentioned the request of my good friend, in
regard to this officious proceeding on my part.
Chapter I
Know that knowledge (ʿilm) is the representation of the reality of things in the rational
tranquillized soul (al-nafs al-muṭmaʾinnah),2 along with their modes and their quantities and their substances and
their essences, if they are simple (i.e. uncompound). And the knower is the one
who comprehends and perceives and apprehends, and that which is known is the
essence (dhāt) of the thing, the knowledge of which
is engraved upon the soul. The nobility of the knowledge is in accordance with
the nobility of the thing known, and the rank of the knower corresponds to the
rank of the knowledge. There is no doubt that the most excellent of things
known, and the most glorious, and the highest of them, and the most honoured,
is God the Maker, the Creator, the Truth, the One. For knowledge of Him, which
is knowledge of the Unity, is the most excellent branch of knowledge, the most
glorious and the most perfect, and this knowledge is necessary; it must be
acquired by all rational beings, as the Lawgiver (upon whom be blessing) said:
‘The search for knowledge is an obligation upon every Muslim.’ He also said
(may God bless him): ‘Seek knowledge even in China’, and he who possesses this
knowledge is the most honourable of those who know. For this reason God
distinguished such men by giving them the highest rank, saying: ‘God bears
witness that there is no God but He and (so also do) the angels and men endued
with knowledge.’1 Those who have absolute knowledge of the Unity are the prophets, and
after them the theologians, who are the heirs of the prophets.
But this knowledge, though
it is excellent in essence and perfect in itself, does not do away with the
other types of knowledge; indeed, it is not attained except by means of many
antecedents, and those antecedents cannot be ordered aright except through
various sciences, such as the science of the heavenly bodies and the spheres,
and the science dealing with the things that God has made. The other branches
of knowledge are derived from the knowledge of Unity and we shall classify them
in their place.
Know that knowledge is
excellent in itself, without consideration of the thing known, so that even the
knowledge of sorcery is excellent in itself, even though it be futile. That is
because knowledge is the contrary of ignorance, and ignorance is one of the
accompaniments of darkness, and darkness belongs to the sphere of immobility,
and immobility is near to non-existence, and what is false and misleading is to
be classed with this. For the sphere of knowledge is the sphere of what is
existent, and existence is better than non-existence, for guidance and truth
and activity and light are all linked up with existence. Since existence is
better than non-existence, then knowledge is more excellent than ignorance, for
ignorance is like blindness and darkness, and knowledge is like sight and light
and ‘the blind man shall not be held equal to him who sees, nor darkness to
light.’1 God made this manifest when He said: ‘Shall those who have knowledge and
those who have it not, be held equal?’2 Then, since
knowledge is better than ignorance and ignorance is one of the accompaniments
of the body and knowledge is one of the attributes of the soul, the soul is
more honourable than the body.
Now knowledge has many
divisions, which we shall enumerate in another chapter; and for the one who
knows there are numerous paths in the search for knowledge, which we shall
mention elsewhere. And now, after you have realized the excellence of
knowledge, all that you need to do is to attain to understanding of the soul,
which is the tablet of knowledge, and its abode and place of habitation. That
is because the body is not an abode for knowledge, for bodies are limited and
will not contain the many branches of knowledge; indeed, they can receive only
impressions and inscriptions, but the soul is able to receive all types of
knowledge without prevention or hindrance or fatigue or cessation, and we will
explain briefly what the soul is.
Chapter II
Concerning the Soul and the Human Spirit
Know that God Most High created man from
two different things, one of them the body, which is dark, gross, subject to
generation and corruption, composite, made up of parts, earthly, whose nature
cannot be complete except by means of something else,3 and that other is
the soul, which is substantial, simple,4 enlightened,
comprehending, acting, moving, giving completion to instruments and bodies.5
For God Most High compounded the flesh of elements and nutriment, grew it with
particles of blood, laid down a rule for it, arranged its affairs, and
appointed its limits. Then the substance of the soul was made manifest by His
command, the One, the Perfect, the Most Excellent, the Benefactor. Now by the
‘soul,’ I do not mean the faculty which seeks nutrition, nor the faculty which
motivates lust and anger, nor the faculty which resides in the heart, producing
life, which issues sensation and movement from the heart to all the organs, for
this faculty is called the animal spirit, and feeling and movement and lust and
anger are among its ‘troops.’ And that faculty which seeks for nutrition, which
resides in the liver, for the disposal of food, is called the natural spirit,
and the digestion and secretion are among its attributes; and the power of
imagination and of procreation and growing and the rest of the natural powers
are all of them servants to the flesh, and the flesh is the servant of the
animal spirit, because it receives its powers from it and acts in accordance
with its instigation.
But by the soul I mean only
that perfect personal substance which is concerned solely with remembrance and
recollection and reflection and discernment and deliberation.1
It is receptive to all types of knowledge and does not weary of perceiving
forms which are abstracted from matter. This substance is the ruler of the
spirits (i.e. those aforementioned) and the controller of the faculties, and
all serve it and comply with its command. Now the rational soul, by which I
mean this substance, has a special name with every group of people: the
philosophers call this substance ‘the rational soul’, the Qurʾān calls it ‘the soul at
rest’ and the ‘spirit which is of the command (amr)
of God’,2 and the Sufis call it the ‘spirit’ (rūḥ) and sometimes the
‘heart’ (qalb) but though the names differ the
meaning is one; it does not differ. In our opinion the ‘heart’ and the ‘spirit’
and the ‘soul at rest’ are all names for the rational soul, and the rational
soul is the living substance which lives and acts and comprehends, and when we
use the term ‘spirit’ unconditionally, or ‘heart’, we mean by it only this
substance.3 But the Sufis call the animal spirit ‘soul’ (i.e. the lower self, nafs) and it is stated in the prophetic tradition that:
‘The greatest of your enemies is your nafs.’ And the
Lawgiver also used the term nafs absolutely and,
indeed, strengthened it by putting it in the construct case, for he said: ‘Your
nafs which is between your two sides’,4
and he indicated by this term only the force of sensual desire and passion, for
they are both aroused by the heart which rests between the two sides.
So when you have realized
the distinction between the (different) names, then know that those who have
investigated the matter express this delicate substance in different ways, and
they hold different views concerning it. For the scholastic theologians reckon
the soul to be a body and state that it is a subtle body, corresponding to this
gross body. They hold that there is no difference between the spirit and the
flesh except in respect of subtlety and grossness. Then certain of them reckon
the spirit as an accident, and some of the physicians incline towards this
view. Certain of them consider the blood to be a spirit—and all of them were
content to limit their consideration to what they were able to conceive of, and
they did not go as far as the third division.
Know that the three
divisions are the body, the accident, and the simple substance. For the animal
spirit is a subtle body, like a lamp, which has been kindled and placed in the
glass-vessel of the heart, by which I mean (here) that cone-shaped object which
is located inside the chest, and the life is the light of the lamp and the
blood is its oil; feeling and movement are its flames, and lust is its heat,
and passion is its smoke; and the force seeking
sustenance (i.e. appetite), which is situated in the liver, is its servant and
guard and protector, and this spirit is found in all the animals, for it is
shared by the cattle and other beasts and man, and it is a body and the
impressions it receives are accidents. Now this spirit does not follow the
right road to knowledge and does not know the path which the creature should
take, nor what is due to the Creator. It is only a servant, a captive which
dies with the death of the body. If the oil1 is in excess, that
lamp is extinguished by excess of heat, and if it is lacking (the lamp) is
extinguished by excessive cold, and its extinction is the cause of the death of
the body. Neither the Word of the Creator, praise be to Him, nor the duties
imposed by the legislator (i.e. the Prophet) are (meant) for this spirit, for
the brutes and the rest of the animal creation are without duties imposed, and
to them the ordinances of the Law are not addressed. Man is laid under obligations
and addressed because of another meaning (i.e. attached to the term ‘spirit’)
found only in himself, which is additional and applicable especially to him.
And that meaning signifies the rational soul and the spirit at rest, and this
spirit is not a body nor an accident, for it (proceeded) at the command of God
Most High, as He said: ‘Say, the spirit (proceedeth) at the command of my
Lord,’2 and He said also: ‘O soul at rest, return unto thy Lord, well-pleased,
well-pleasing.’3
Now the command4
of the Creator Most High is not a body nor an accident, but a Divine faculty
like the First Intellect 5 and the Tablet and the Pen,6
and they are simple substances, free from materiality; indeed, they are
incorporeal splendours, intellectual, without sensibility. Now the spirit and
the heart, in our use of the term, is derived from those substances,7
and is not susceptible of corruption and does not disappear nor pass into
nothingness nor die, but is separated from the body and expects to return to it
on the Day of Resurrection. That was declared to be the case in the Shāriʿ and was authenticated in those sciences which are established by
categorical proofs. So it is plainly proved that the rational spirit is not a
body or an accident; indeed, it is an abiding, eternal substance, and [it is]
incorruptible. So we have no need to recapitulate the proofs and add to the
evidence, because they are well established and have been recorded. Let him who
wishes to verify them consult the books suitable for that purpose.
But our method is not to
bring forward proofs, but to rely upon unveiling, and we trust in witnessing
through faith and the fact that God related the spirit sometimes to Himself,
sometimes to His command, and sometimes to His glory, for He said: ‘I breathed
into him of My Spirit,’1 and He said also: ‘And We breathed into him of Our Spirit.’ Now God
Most High is too glorious to attach unto Himself a body or an accident, because
of their lowliness, their liability to change, and their swift dissolution and
corruption. But the Lawgiver (God’s blessing upon him) said: ‘The spirits are
like troops assembled,’2 and he said: ‘The spirits of the martyrs are in the crops of green
birds.’3 Now the accident does not subsist after the substance has passed away,
because it does not subsist in itself. For the body is subject to dissolution
as it was subject to being compounded of matter and form, which is set forth in
the books. And from these verses and traditions and intellectual proofs, we
have come to know that the spirit is a simple substance, and perfect, having
life in itself. From it is derived what makes the body4 sound or what
corrupts it, for the natural and the animal spirits and all the bodily powers
are all among its troops. We have learned, too, that this substance receives
the images of things known5 and (understands) the real meaning of
existent things, without being concerned with their actual selves or corporeal
forms. For the rational soul is capable of knowing the real meaning of humanity
without seeing a human being, as it is acquainted with the angels and demons,
but has no need to see their forms, since the senses of most human beings do
not attain to them.
Moreover, certain of the
Sufis maintain that the heart possesses an organ of sight like the body, and
outward things are seen with the outward eye, and inward realities with the eye
of the mind. For the Apostle of God (may God bless him) said: ‘Every servant
has two eyes in his heart,’ and they are eyes by which he perceives the
Invisible, and when God wishes well to one of His servants He opens the eyes of
his heart so that he may see what is hidden from his outward sight.6
Now this spirit does not die with the death of the body, for God Most Holy
summons it to His door and says: ‘Return unto thy Lord’: it is only separated
from, and discards, the body. The bodily and the natural powers cease to
function and their activity is halted, and that halt is called Death.
The people of wayfaring,
namely the Sufis, depend upon the spirit and the heart, more than they depend
upon the corporeal form. Now since the spirit (proceeded) from the command of
the Most High Creator, it is like a stranger in the body and it will look
towards its Source1 and unto Him it will return. Therefore it will obtain more benefit
from its Source than it will from the bodily form, when it is strong and is not
defiled by the defilements of human nature. When you have come to know that the
spirit is a simple substance, and you have learned that the flesh must have a
habitation and is an accident, for it subsists only through the substance, then
know that this substance does not abide in any place, nor dwell in a
habitation, and the body is not the habitation of the spirit, nor the abode of
the heart, but the body is the instrument of the spirit, the implement of the
heart, and the vehicle of the soul. The spirit is not attached to the particles
of the body, nor detached from it, but it concerns itself with the body, is beneficial
to it, and generous towards it.
Now the first manifestation
of its light is on the brain, because the brain is its special place of
manifestation. It takes a guard for itself from its forefront, from the midst
of it a prime minister and controller, from the back part of it a treasury, a
treasurer, and a guardian, and from all parts of it infantry and cavalry. From
the animal spirit (it takes for itself) a servant, from the natural spirit a
sergeant, from the body it takes a vehicle, and from this world a sphere of
action. From life it obtains goods and wealth, from activity merchandise, and
from knowledge profit. The next world provides it with a destination and place
of return and the Canon Law with a way and a road. The headstrong soul (al-nafs al-ammārah) gives it a guard and a leader, and the
reproachful soul (al-nafs al-lawwāmah) an admonisher.2
The senses are its spies and allies, and from religion it takes a coat of mail,
while the reason serves it as instructor, and the sensibility as pupil, and the
Lord, glory be to Him, is behind all these, on the watch.3
The soul then, being such as
this, with this equipment, does not advance towards this gross body and is not
essentially attached to it, but brings it benefit, while itself facing towards
its Creator, and its Creator commands it to obtain profit, to the appointed
end. So then the spirit, during this journey (i.e. through this life), is
concerned only with the search for knowledge, because knowledge will be its
adornment in the world to come, for ‘wealth and children are the ornament of
life in this world.’4 As the eye is concerned with the sight of visible things, the hearing
is assiduous in listening to sounds, the tongue is alert to form words, as the
animal spirit seeks the delights of passion, and the natural spirit loves the
pleasures of eating and drinking, (so also) the spirit at rest, by which I mean
the heart, seeks only knowledge and is not satisfied except with it. It learns
throughout its life, and takes pleasure in knowledge all
its days, until the time of its separation, and if it welcomes anything other
than knowledge, it is concerned with it only in the interests of the body, not
out of desire for the body itself and the love of its origin. Then, when you
have come to know the states of the spirit and have realized that it is
immortal, and understand its love for knowledge and passionate desire for it,
you ought to consider the different types of knowledge, for they are many, and
we will enumerate them briefly.
Chapter III
On the Different Types of Knowledge and its
Divisions
Know that Knowledge can be divided into
two types, one being religious knowledge (sharʿī) and the other intellectual (ʿaqlī), and most of the
branches of religious knowledge are intellectual in the opinion of him who
knows them, and most of the branches of intellectual knowledge belong to the
religious code, in the opinion of him who understands them. ‘And he, to whom
God does not commit light, has no light.’1
1. The first type of
Knowledge, which is religious knowledge, is divided into two classes, (a) one
of them is concerned with fundamental principles (uṣūl), and it is the knowledge of Unity, and this knowledge is concerned
with the Essence of God Most High, and His eternal attributes and His creative
attributes and His essential attributes, which are set forth in the Divine
Names, as mentioned. It is concerned also with the states of the Prophets, the
Imams after them, and the Companions. It deals, further, with the states of
death and life and with the states of the Resurrection, the Summons, the
Assembly, the Judgment, and the Vision of God Most High. Those who concern
themselves with this type of knowledge have recourse first to the verses of the
Qurʾān,
which is the Word of God Most High, then to the traditions of the Apostle (may
God bless him), then to intellectual proofs and syllogistic demonstration; and
they took the premises of argumentation, syllogistic and eristic, and what
belongs to them both, from the philosophers, and they placed most terms in
other than their (right) place. In their expressions, they use such phrases as
substance, accident, direction, consideration, demonstration, and argument and
the meaning of each of these terms differs with each group, so that by
‘substance’ the philosophers mean one thing, the Sufis mean another, and the
theologians something else, and so on. But it is not the purpose of this
treatise to verify the meaning of the terms according to the opinions of each
group and we will not enter upon it.
Now these people are
specialists in the discussion of fundamental principles and the knowledge of
Unity, and their title is the Mutakallimūn, for the
name of kalām has become known
in connection with the knowledge of Unity. Included also in the knowledge of
fundamental principles is interpretation, for the Qurʾān is one of the greatest of things, the
most eloquent and most precious. It contains many obscure and difficult
passages, which not every mind can comprehend, only that one to whom God has
granted understanding of His Word. The Prophet, God bless him, has said: ‘There
is not a verse of the Qurʾān but has a literal sense and an allegorical sense, and its
allegorical sense includes another allegorical meaning up to seven allegorical
meanings’1 and in one account, ‘up to nine’. The Prophet said also: ‘Every word
of the Qurʾān has a moral sense (ḥadd) and every moral
sense has also a mystical sense (maṭlaʿ).’2 Now in the Qurʾān, God has given
information about all types of knowledge, both what is manifest of existent
things and what is hidden, what is small among them and what is great, what is
perceptible and what is intelligible among them. There is an allusion to this
in the Word of God, where it is stated: ‘There is neither a green thing nor a
dry, but it is (set forth) in a clear book.’3 And God said also:
‘Let them meditate on His verses and let men of understanding remember.’4
Since the subject-matter of
the Qurʾān is
the greatest of subjects, what commentator has done justice to it? Or what
theologian has fulfilled his responsibility to it? Each one of the commentators
enters upon the explanation of it in accordance with his ability, and embarks
upon the exposition of it according to the capacity of his mind, and in
accordance with the amount of his knowledge. For all of them said—and they
spoke truly—that knowledge of the Qurʾān gives an indication of the knowledge of fundamental principles and
what is derived from them, and from religious and intellectual knowledge. Now
the commentator ought to consider the Qurʾān from the point of view of the language
and from the point of view of metaphor and from the point of view of the
composition of the vocables also from the point of view of the particulars of
the grammar and of the usage of the Arabs and of the subject-matter of the
philosophers and of the doctrine of the Sufis, so that his interpretation comes
near to the truth of things. But if he confines himself to one point of view
and is content in his exposition with one science, he has not fulfilled his
duty of explaining it fully and he finds himself opposed by the evidence of
faith and the establishment of the proof.
Included also in the
knowledge of fundamentals is the knowledge of the traditions, for the Prophet
(God bless him) was the most eloquent of Arabs and foreigners, and was a
teacher to whom revelation was made by God Most High, and his intelligence
encompassed all things, high and low. Beneath every one of his words, yea,
every utterance of his, are to be found seas of mysteries and treasuries of hints.
Therefore, the knowledge of his traditions and the understanding of his sayings
is a great matter and an important thing. No one is able
to have a thorough knowledge of the Prophet’s teaching, except by training
himself to imitation of the Lawgiver, and removing distortion from his heart
through the straightening effect of the law of the Prophet (God bless him).
So he who wishes to discuss
the interpretation of the Qurʾān and the elucidation of the Traditions and to discuss rightly, must
first gain a knowledge of the language, secure a thorough mastery of the
science of grammar, and be well-grounded in the different conjugations. For
knowledge of the language is a ladder and a staircase to all the sciences, and
for him who does not know the language there is no way to the study of the
sciences, for he who wishes to ascend to a roof must first set up a staircase,
and after that he can ascend. Now knowledge of the language is an important
means and a great staircase, and he who seeks for knowledge cannot dispense
with a good command of the language, for knowledge of the language is the most
fundamental thing. Knowledge of the language begins with the understanding of
the particles, which are represented by the separate words, and after that
comes understanding of the verbs, such as the trilateral, the quadrilateral,
and others. It is also incumbent upon the philologist that he should
investigate the poetry of the Arabs and the worthiest and the most perfect of
it is the poetry of the Jāhiliyyah, for it provides a
means of discipline for the mind and refreshment for the soul. Then, after the
study of that poetry and the particles and the names, it is necessary to
acquire a knowledge of grammar, for in the knowledge of the language it takes
the place of the lever balance for gold and silver, and logic for the science
of philosophy, and prosody for poetry, and the yardstick for clothes, and the
measure for grain; for in anything which is not weighed in a balance excess and
deficiency is not clear. Now the knowledge of the language is a means to a
knowledge of interpretation and of the traditions, the knowledge of the Qurʾān and the traditions is
a guide to the knowledge of the Unity, and the knowledge of the Unity is that
by which alone the souls of God’s servants find salvation, thus there is no
deliverance from the fear of the Resurrection except thereby. This, then, is an
analysis of the knowledge of fundamental principles.
(b) The second class of
religious knowledge is the knowledge of what is derived (i.e. from these
principles), because knowledge is either theoretical or practical and the
knowledge of fundamental principles is theoretical and the knowledge of their
consequences is practical, and this practical knowledge includes three
obligations:
(i) The first is what is due
to God, and it consists of the essentials of religious devotion, such as
purification, prayer, almsgiving, the pilgrimage, the Holy War, and devotional
readings; also the observance of feast days and the Friday prayers, and what is
additional to these in the way of works of supererogation and obligatory
duties.
(ii) The second is what is
due to one’s fellow-servants, and it includes all kinds of customary usages and
takes two directions:
(a)
One of them includes transactions, such as buying and selling, and partnership
and compensatory gifts, the lending of money and the borrowing of it,
retaliation, and all kinds of blood-wit.
(b) The second of them is
contractual obligation, such as marriage, divorce, manumission, servitude, the
law of inheritance, and what is involved in these.
The term ‘jurisprudence’
applies to these two obligations, and jurisprudence is a noble science,
profitable, universal in application, necessary; men cannot do without it
because of the universal necessity for it.
(iii) The third obligation
is what is due to the self, and it is the knowledge of moral qualities. Now
moral qualities are either blameworthy and ought to be rejected and abandoned,
or they are praiseworthy and ought to be acquired, and the self should be adorned
with them. What is blameworthy among qualities and what is praiseworthy of them
is made plain in the Word of God Most High and in the traditions of the Prophet
(God bless him). He who assumed a single one of them entered Paradise.
2. As for the second type of
knowledge, which is intellectual knowledge, it is a knowledge which is
difficult and intricate, including what is wrong and what is right, and it is
divided into three classes.
(i) The first class, which
is the beginning, comprises the science of mathematics and logic. As for
mathematics, it includes arithmetic and is concerned with numbers and geometry,
which is the science of dimensions and figures, and astronomy, by which I mean
the science of the heavenly bodies, the stars, the regions of the earth, and
what is connected therewith. From it is derived the science of astrology and
the determination of the times of births and horoscopes. From mathematics is
derived also the art of music, which is concerned with the relation of chords.
As for logic, it is
concerned with definition and description in regard to things which are
apprehended by the imagination, and it investigates things from the point of
view of analogy and proof, in respect of the exact sciences. For logic follows
this method, beginning with the simple terms, then proceeding to the compound
terms, then to propositions, then to the syllogism, then to the moods of the
syllogism, then to the search for the proof, which is the end of logic.
(ii) The second class, which
is in the middle, is natural science, and the natural scientist is concerned
with the universe and the component parts of the world, the substances, and the
accidents, with motion and rest, and the states of the heavens, and action and
reaction. This science gives rise to the investigation of the states of the
different classes of existent things, and the types of selves, the humours, the
number of the senses, and the way in which they perceive sensible things. Then
it leads to the consideration of the science of medicine, which is the science
of bodies, infirmities, medicines, remedies, and what belongs to them. Among
its branches, also, are the science of meteorology and the science of mineralogy, the recognition of the properties of things.
It also extends to the science of alchemy, which is the treatment of ores that
are ailing (i.e. base metals) in the interior of mines.
(iii) The third class, which
is the highest, is the investigation of existence, then its division into
self-existent (necessary) and the contingent, then the consideration of the
Creator and His Essence and all His Attributes and actions, His command and His
ordinance and His decree, and His appointment of the manifestation of existent
things. In addition to that it includes the consideration of the celestial
beings and simple substances, the incorporeal intelligences, and the perfected
souls. Then comes consideration of the states of the angels and the demons, and
this extends to the knowledge of prophecy, the matter of miracles (muʿjazāt), the conditions
of thaumaturgic gifts (karāmāt), the consideration of
the souls in bliss, the state of sleep and being awake, and the stations of
dreaming. From it is derived the science of talismans and enchantments and what
belongs to them. Now these sciences have divisions and accidents and degrees:
for a clear explanation it would be necessity to give extensive proofs, but
brevity is more fitting.
Chapter IV
The Knowledge of the Sufis
Know that intellectual knowledge is simple
in itself, but it gives rise to a composite knowledge, which includes all the
states of the two simple types of knowledge. That composite knowledge is the
knowledge of the Sufis and the Way to the attainment of their mystic states.
For they have a special science of a plain Way of life, which combines the two
types of knowledge. This science includes knowledge of the mystic state and the
spiritual condition (waqt),1 audition, ecstasy,
longing, intoxication, sobriety, affirmation, effacement, poverty, the passing away
of self (fanāʾ), saintship and discipleship and (the position of) the Shaykh and the
disciple, and what is involved in their states, together with spiritual
illumination,2 endowments, and stations, and we will speak of these three types of
knowledge in a special book, if God will. But now it is our intention only to
enumerate the sciences and their different classes in this treatise, and we
have limited it and have enumerated them briefly, in order to summarize. So let
him who desires more than this and a full exposition of these sciences, betake
himself to reading the books (which deal with them). Since the discourse
setting forth the enumeration of the classes of sciences is ended, know for a
certainty that each one of these arts and each one of these sciences demands a
number of conditions in order that it may be impressed upon the souls of those
who seek it, and after the enumeration of the sciences you must know the
methods of study, for there are specific methods of acquiring knowledge, and we
will analyse them.
1. Cf. al-Hujwīrī, ‘Real
unification consists in asserting the unity of a thing and in having a perfect
knowledge of its unity … I declare that Unification is a mystery revealed by God
to His servants and that it cannot be expressed in language at all.’ Kashf al-maḥjūb (tr. R. A. Nicholson), pp.
278 ff. Cf. also Rawḍat al-ṭālibīn, p. 153.
2. Cf. Iḥyāʾ, iv, p. 216 (ll. 7 ff.):
‘Know that there are worlds through which you must pass, the material, visible
world is the first … and this stage may be passed without difficulty. The
second is the Divine World and it is beyond me, and when you have passed beyond
me, you have arrived at its stations. It contains extensive deserts and wide
expanses and lofty mountains and fathomless seas, and I know not how you will
be saved therein. The third is the Celestial World … which is like a ship
moving between the land and the water and it has not the constant motion of the
water, nor has it the complete immobility of the land and its stability, and
everyone who walks on the land walks in the world of mulk
and shahādah, and when he is strong enough to sail on
a ship he is like one who walks in the world of jabarūt
and when he reaches the stage of being able to walk on the water without a
ship, he walks in the world of malakūt, without
sinking. When you are not able to walk upon the water, then depart, for you
have passed beyond the land, and have left the ship behind, and there remains
before you only the limpid water.’ Cf. also Mishkāt al-anwār,
pp. 122 ff., and A. J. Wensinck, The Relation between
al-Ghazālī’s Cosmology and his Mysticism.
1. Kitāb Ḥaqāʾiq al-tafsīr.
2. Cf. ʿAbd al-Razzāq’s definition of
(al-nafs al-muṭmaʾinnah) ‘that of which the
spiritual illumination has been perfected so that it has been stripped of its
vices and has replaced them by virtues and it has turned its face towards the
heart (i.e. the highest self), following it in ascending towards the Invisible
World, having been cleansed from all defilement, being assiduous in devotion,
dwelling in the highest of abodes, so that its Lord may address it face to
face.’ For (al-nafs al-nāṭiqah) cf. Plotinus, Ennead, v, 9, 7, and Theology of
Aristotle, 6, 120 ff., and also Ghazzālī, al-Maʿārif al-ʿaqliyyah, fols. 8a,
11b, and Rasāʾil Ikhwān
al-Ṣafāʾ, ‘Rational souls rejoice in
knowledge and understanding. When the rational soul has awakened from the sleep
of neglect, the eye of insight is opened for her and she beholds her teacher
and recognizes her Maker and therewith yearns for her Creator.’ iii, 270, 271.
1. Qurʾān 3:18.
1. Qurʾān 35:19–20.
2. Qurʾān 39:29.
3. Cf. Plotinus, Ennead, iv, 7, 1; Theology of Aristotle,
160 ff.
4. Cf. Ennead,
iv, 8, 8, and Theology of Aristotle, 41.
5. Ibid, 42.
1. Cf. Theol. of Aris., 43.
2. Qurʾān 17:85.
3. Cf. Iḥyāʾ, iv, 23. ‘By the heart I
mean the inner self which belongs to the world of amr.’
4. Fakhr al-Dīn Rāzī; al-Tafsīr al-kabīr, vol. 28, p. 83.
1. The Cairo text reads
‘blood’.
2. Qurʾān 17:85.
3. Qurʾān 89:27–30.
4. On the world of amr cf. Iḥyāʾ, iv, 23.
5. Cf. Theol.
of Aristotle, 39, and Plotinus, ‘The Intellectual-Principle … the
offspring of God … For here is contained all that is immortal; nothing here but
is Divine Mind; all is God.’ Ennead, v, 1, 4, ff.
6. ‘The Pen is that which God
created to enable the hearts of men to be inscribed with knowledge.’ Iḥyāʾ, iii, 14. Identified with the First
Intellect in al-Maʿārifah al-ʿaqliyyah, fol. 21b.
7. Cf. Plotinus, ‘Sprung from
the Intellectual-Principle, Soul is intellective … its substantial existence
comes from the Intellectual-Principle,’ Ennead, v, 1,
3.
1. Qurʾān 15:29, and 38:72.
2. Bukhārī; al-Ṣaḥīḥ, vol. 4, p. 104
3. Ibn Kathīr; Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 203.
4. For ‘body’ the Cairo edition
reads ‘religion’.
5. Cf. Plotinus, v, 3, 3.
6. Cf. Iḥyāʾ, iii, 15. ‘The inward eye is
the eye of the soul, which is subtle, perceptive, and it is like the rider and
the body like the horse, and the blindness of the rider is more harmful to him
than the blindness of the horse.’ Cf. also iv, 430. ‘The Invisible Divine World
is not seen with the outward eye, but only with another eye, which was created
in the heart of every man, but man has veiled it by his lusts and worldly
pre-occupations and he has ceased to see with it.’ Cf. also Rawḍat al-ṭālibīn, p. 164.
1. Cf. Plotinus, vi, 8, ‘The
soul’s movement will be about its Source’.
2. Qurʾān 75:2.
3. Qurʾān 85:20.
4. Qurʾān 18:46.
1. Qurʾān 24:40.
1. Majlisī, Biḥār
al-anwār,
vol. 8, p. 455.
2. Cf. Kitāb
al-Arbaʿīn, 48, and L. Massignon, La Passion d’al-Ḥallāj (Paris, 1922), p. 704.
3. Qurʾān 6:59.
4. Qurʾān 38:29.
1. For a discussion of waqt cf. Hujwīrī, Kashf al-maḥjūb, pp. 367–370.
2. Cf. Hujwīrī, Kashf al-maḥjūb, p. 384.
Thalāth rasāʾil fi’l-maʿrifah
Translated for this volume by Alma Giese
from Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī, Thalāth rasāʾil
fi’l-maʿrifah, ed. Maḥmūd Ḥamdī Zaqzūq (Cairo,
1979), pp. 15–22; 31–53; 77–95.
First
Treatise, Risālah fī bayān maʿrifat Allāh
You have asked me—and may God give you
success—about a matter which is doubtful to you, and that is: The mind of none
of us can encompass with its knowledge the corporeal and the spiritual
things—even if a person had understanding and knowledge in abundance—and it
does not realize itself in him as it [really] is. So how can it be permitted to
anyone to claim knowledge of God as He is in His qualities? For who [ever]
claims this puts to God, Most High, a limit and an end, because his knowledge
puts a limit to His Essence. Now, everything that encompasses a thing is its
beginning and its end, seen from its outside and from its inside. But God Most
High has spoken: He is the First and the Last [57:3].
The answer is: It is
necessary before any other thing that one understand that nobody knows God Most
High truly but God Most High Himself, and nobody can encompass the true nature
of His majesty except Him. One should not consider this improbable, for I say:
Except for the king himself nobody really knows the king, and except for the
prophet himself, nobody really knows the prophet. Also, except for the learned
one nobody really knows the learned one. I would even say: When the student has
not reached the rank of the teacher in the sciences he does not really know the
teacher. And when he has reached his rank in the sciences he has a knowledge
that is different from the knowledge of his teacher. For he knows first what
his teacher has taught him and he understands this himself. Then, he knows the
teacher in relation to himself. And he thus knows that he encompasses the
knowable things which he himself encompasses. I would even say that it cannot
be imagined that the state of him who has sexual intercourse at the fulfilment
of his desire can really be known by somebody else, because the perfect
knowledge of this state comes about through experience and awareness. The
nature of this fulfilment cannot be imagined before it has been attributed to
him. The utmost that can be imagined of it is to believe in the truth of an
established fact, the true nature of which is truly not known to him.
Now how can man aspire to
truly know God, Most High, when he does not truly know his own soul? For, he
knows his own soul—in most of his states—by its actions and its
characteristics, without grasping its nature. Nay, if the human being wants to
reach a full understanding of the ant or the bedbug in the completeness of all its facts and its characteristics, he will be unable to
do so. The utmost would be that he perceives with his eyes its form, its colour
and the construction of its body parts, and their difference in exterior
matters. Concerning the species-establishing differences by which the bedbug
per se is different from the ant per se so that from their difference derives
the difference of their shape and their qualities, one is not able to do that.
Now if you were to imagine
that God Most High had someone comparable and similar [to Himself]—He is high
above this—then it would be possible to say: The comparable one has true
knowledge of Him through comparison with his own soul; he first knows it and then
compares it to the essence of the other, just as one learned person knows
another like him by comparing [him] to his own soul.
I say: The human being has
different stages: First his being an embryo, then a small child, and then a
discriminating being; after that he is in full possession of his mental
faculties and then [he is] one of the saints of God Most High. The embryo does not
understand its own state and it cannot possibly have true knowledge of the
child. The child does not know the discriminating being, and the discriminating
being—in the state of conscious perception—does not know the one who is in full
possession of his mental faculties. The intelligent person who, with the
contemplation of the intellect, grasps the intelligible can only understand the
visionary saint by way of inference. The saint does not know the Prophet—for
the state of prophethood is beyond the state of sainthood. The prophet does not
know the angel like the angel knows himself, and the angel does not know God
Most High like God Most High knows His own Self. These are hierarchically
organized perfections, and he who is veiled from each one of these ranks falls
short of grasping its innermost essence.
Yes, at times man has a
proof establishing the truth of his origin. When you have recognized this you
should also know that the utmost knowledge of human beings is their knowing
that this wondrous, well-ordered, organized world has need of a living,
powerful and knowing ruler who is not like the world and whom the world does
not resemble. So, creation for him indicates proof of something from which
creation originates. This is knowledge of His act, not knowledge of His
Essence.
It indicates proof for life,
knowledge and power, and this is knowledge of the qualities, not of the true
nature. Neither is it knowledge of the true state of the qualities, but rather
[knowledge] of a kind of comparison: If the human being were not described as
having knowledge, life and power, it would not be possible for him to
understand through evidence the existence of the origin of these matters.
And likewise it (i.e.
creation) indicates that origination, corporeality, accidentality, and other
such [qualities] are unthinkable regarding Him. This amounts to a knowledge of
negating things concerning Him, not a knowledge of the true nature of His
Essence.
Mankind’s knowledge of God
Most High, can be reduced to these three approaches, even if men differ in the
grades of illumination, the path of knowledge, and the
amount of the knowable things. All this is based on the knowledge of the need
of the world for One who performs all that, not on the comprehension of the
innermost truth of His Essence.
Then, after the acquisition
of these types of knowledge, when the knower goes even deeper, it will become
clear to him—in a manner that would take too long to relate—that it is
impossible for mankind to gain insight into the knowledge of the true nature of
His Essence.1 This is the utmost degree of those who know, and at this they say:
‘The inability to reach understanding is itself understanding’. For, inasmuch
as man perceives that the inability to reach the nature of His majesty is
inevitable, he reaches that which is the utmost of his perfection, for that is
the ultimate perfection of man.
If, then, the knowledgeable
one would say: ‘I do not know him’, he would tell the truth in one way, and if
he were to say: ‘I know Him’, he would also, in a way, tell the truth. An
analogy to him is he to whom a well-formed handwriting is shown and he is
asked: ‘Do you know the one who wrote it?’ He is existent, living, able,
knowing, endowed with hearing and seeing—because the art of writing cannot be
completed without these qualities—and he is neither mineral nor plant nor
beast. He then says: ‘I do know him’. He could also say: ‘Although I recognize
all of this, I do not know him’.
Therefore, the one who is
knowledgeable has two states: In one of them he says: ‘I do not know God, Most
High’, and in the other he says: ‘I do not know anything but God’. He speaks
the truth in both cases. Concerning the first state (it means) he does not know2
the essence per se although the inclination of his heart is towards it, so
nothing but perplexity befalls him that weighs heavily on him. That is when he
says: ‘I do not know Him’.
In the second state he looks
upon His acts insofar as they are His acts. He then sees nothing else in the
existing things but God—mighty and great is He—and His acts, and with that he
says: ‘I do not know anything other than God Most High. There is nothing in the
earth except for Him and He is everything if one thinks about it. For he who
does not look anywhere but to the sun and its lights that are spread through
the world, and whose heart beholds the things that are illuminated by it, not
insofar as they are minerals or beasts [but as illuminated things]—with him it
is as if he sees nothing but the sun. In such a state the knowledgeable one
experiences expansion through divine lights that come upon him, that have shone
upon him from the things of the world. The other state is the state of
contraction. That is why the master of the envoys and the lord of those who
know—may God’s blessings and His peace be upon him—has said: ‘Meditate on God’s creation, but do not meditate on His Essence.’
This is a ḥadīth on which thoughtful men have much reflected. But the one who knows
cannot exhaust the oceans of knowledge from which God has poured it out over
him, even if he were given a life like the life of Noah—peace be upon him. All
of the knowledge of those who know is, in relation to the knowledge of God Most
High, less than a drop in relation to the oceans of the world, and what it
(i.e. the drop) is in relation to them (i.e. the oceans) is the most extreme
proportion.
Now, this much of an answer
is sufficient to clear up the doubt, for it (i.e. the doubt) is based on [the
assumption] that man is intent on [mentally] encompassing God [Most High] and
on that many assertions as to the absurdity [of this opinion] can be built.1
The presupposition in positing [this question] is false. If that is recognized,
the claim of absurdity is repelled.
Second Treatise, Risālah
fi’l-maʿrifah
You should know that knowledge [maʿrifah] is of two kinds:
The knowledge of one’s duty [maʿrifat
al-ḥaqq] and the knowledge
of the essential truth [maʿrifat al-ḥaqīqah]. Knowledge of one’s duty is flight from the soul, and this flight is
the means for salvation and deliverance2 from the tribulation
of the soul. For he who listens to his soul and desists from fleeing it is
deceived. Now, fleeing from it is hardly possible without first knowing its
manifest and hidden properties. Knowledge of the essential truth [however] is
dwelling with God Most High. But this dwelling with God cannot happen without
first knowing His essential and non-essential attributes [ṣifātuhu’l-dhātiyyah
wa’l-maʿnawiyyah].
The characteristics of the soul and its
place in the body:
Know that the jurisprudent, if he had an
exact knowledge of the acts of obedience [to God] and did not live by them, or
if he had an exact knowledge of the acts of sin and did not abstain from them
and not cleanse his soul from them, if he had an exact knowledge of the
praiseworthy character traits and did not possess them—he would be deceived,
since God Most High has spoken: He is indeed successful who
causeth it to grow [91:9]; He does not say: ‘He is indeed successful,
who has knowledge.’
If someone says: ‘What is
the real meaning of the soul?’ one would reply: The soul is a fine substance
lodged in this [human] frame, and it is the place of the blameworthy defective
character traits, such as: derogation and oppression, anger and malice, desire
for the Muslims’ possessions and help for the hypocrites. And so spoke the Most
High: Verily, the hypocrites will be in the lowest depth of
hell [4:1453] Similarly, the spirit is a fine substance1 lodged in this frame
[of the body]; it is the locus of praiseworthy character traits, and if (man)
is characterized by it, he will be at rest from tribulation.2
Now, if it is said: What are
its attributes?—the answer is: It is commanding evil, is false and ungrateful,
is an infidel who gives associates to God—as God Most High has spoken: But as for him who has feared his Lord’s high rank, and has
restrained his soul from lust—verily, paradise is his dwelling
[79:40–41]. Its actions are such that it aims for the cutting off of the heads
of Muslims—as is told by this story: A governor tried hard to make a pious man
take over a certain public function for him—but he refused. So the governor
said to him: ‘You either start with this job and this activity, or I shall cut
off your head!’ Thereupon the pious man said: ‘If I take over this function,
then my soul will cut off my head. Now that you cut
off my head is easier for me, than that my soul cut it off once I started on
this’.
If someone says: Does the
soul have a form? The answer is: Yes, indeed! Its head is haughtiness, its eyes
are vanity, its mouth is envy and its tongue is mendacity, its ears are
forgetfulness, its chest is spite, its belly lust, its hands are crime and
theft, its feet are expectation, and heedlessness is its heart and its spirit;
it has neither knowledge nor understanding,3 selling, as it does,
paradise and its bliss and access to it for a momentary passion in the abode of
transience. And, it does not die and vanish by being fought against; it only
retreats and hides, while still being your enemy. And where is your hostility
towards your soul which is between your two sides4—and your parting
from it by fighting it, so that through the fight it withdraws [from you]?5
Therefore, it is present6 [with you again] as soon as you neglect the fight [against it]. So,
one is never safe from its evil. Hence, all that veils man from God Most High
is the soul, and it is the soul that distracts him—as God Most High has spoken:
Verily, the soul commands the evil [12:53].
Now,
should someone say: What is the soul’s place in the [human] frame? The answer
would be: The soul has different parts: one of its parts is in the eye and
gazes with treachery, another one of its parts is in the ear and listens to
what does not please God, still another one of its parts is in the tongue and
talks libel and slander, calumny, lie, and mischief. As God Most High has
spoken: Mischief is worse than killing [2:191], and
about libel God Most High has spoken: And spy not, nor
backbite one another [49:12], and about lying: And
there awaits them a painful chastisement for that they have cried lies
[2:10].1 Another one of the soul’s parts is in the hand and commands stealing.
God Most High spoke: As for the thief, both male and female,
cut off their hands [5:38]. There is one part of the soul in the foot
that commands it to walk towards all sins. God Most High has spoken: Because of their sins they were drowned, then made to enter a Fire
[71:25]. Another one of its parts is in the belly, and from it passion is
engendered. God Most High has spoken: Lo! You come with lust
unto men instead of women![7:81] Still another part of the soul is in
the heart, and from it comes forth heedlessness. There is no hair on the body
in which there is not a part of the soul.
Should someone say: What is
the difference between the whims of the soul and the whisperings of the devil?
The answer would be: The soul calls for its worldly share, i.e. what it has an
interest in, the good life2 and the wish to have something, to have
rank, good fortune, and glory. But the devil calls man with his whisperings to
something that amounts to rebellion. The devil disappears when God is
mentioned. The soul, however, does not disappear [at this], because it is like
a mordacious dog. It does, however, have no stability in the state of
illumination [kashf] and witnessing [shuhūd] [of God]. But when man becomes distracted from his
witnessing of God the soul returns to him, and it is like the harmful snake of
the wādī: when you think that you have killed it; if
you then were to touch it, it would harm you with its poison.
If someone would say: ‘What
is the sign of him who aims at disciplining his soul?’ the answer would be:
that he has no demands, for demanding is the main characteristic of the soul,3
that he does not change through roughness and rebuke,4 and is not taken by
friendly reception and praise, that he does not get mixed up with jealousy, and
that no covering5 comes over the eye nor a fine veil. This means that he sees things in
their [true] meaning without additions to the measures of things; he is not
ruled by anger, and he does not make mistakes in his perception. The following
occurs in the prayers: ‘O God, show us the truth as it really is and grant us the gift of adhering to it. Show us futility as it
really is and grant us the gift of keeping away from it.’
Now, you should know that
the soul has three [stages]: God Most High mentions in His book the commanding
[ammārah], the blaming [lawwāmah],
and the peaceful [muṭmaʾinnah] soul. I say:1 The commanding [soul] consists in deception, violence, vanity,
self-sufficiency, and consorting.2 That is, it loves [all] this.3
The blaming [soul] is the heart [qalb], and the
[soul] at peace is the spirit [rūḥ]. It is also said that
the commanding [soul] is the evil-doing soul, that the blaming [soul] is the
moderate soul,4 and that the [soul] at peace is the preceding soul.5
A wise saying: Seek not the
companionship of him who has a hundred praiseworthy qualities, but also has one
blameworthy quality, namely ignorance of his soul/ self. Rather seek the
companionship of him who has a hundred blameworthy qualities, but also one
praiseworthy quality which is knowledge of his soul/ self. For he who knows his
soul/self knows his Lord.
If someone would say: With
what can it be compared? the answer would be: In envy it is like Satan, because
he was the first one who was envious of Adam. In haughtiness it is like the
Pharaoh. In its excessive eating it is like a child and in its lust like a
donkey. In its decoration it is like a woman and in its excessive laughter and
bad manners it resembles the drunk and the shameless. While living in comfort,
it rebels against the order of God Most High, and it implores God at the time
of misfortune. It is not content with little and cannot be satisfied with
abundance. It talks about things that do not concern him [its master].
A wise saying: It is a sign
of the repentants [tāʾibūn] that they have left behind the sins; to leave behind the world is the
sign of the ascetics [zāhidūn], and to leave behind
the soul is the sign of those endowed with knowledge [ʿārifūn]. Man cannot draw near to the love of God Most High, save through
enmity toward the soul. Do not associate with the world save by renunciation,
do not associate with the soul save by opposition, nor associate with the devil
save by enmity. Do not associate with the people save by sincere admonition,
and do not associate with God save by being in accordance with His decree.
You should know that your
soul is your prison: when you are with it you are in prison and in distress,
but when you get away [from it] you fall into comfortable rest. And man will
not be freed from it save by steadfastness [istiqāmah].
Shaykh ‘Abd Allāh1 has said: ‘Be truthful with God and fair with men, repressive with the
soul and humble with the scholars, subservient with the shaykhs and generous
with the mendicant dervishes, tender with the children and silent with the
ignorant.
Divine attributes and the different levels
of knowing God
If someone would say: The attributes of
the Creator—great is His glory—can be divided into how many parts?, the answer
would be: into two parts: the essential quality [dhātiyyah]
and the non-essential [maʿnawiyyah] quality. The essential quality is one which, if we were to assume its
absence, would necessitate the absence of the essence, and [the essential
attribute] cannot inhere [in the essence] because of its (i.e. the essence’s)
absence. If one were to imagine the existence of the essence together with the
essential quality’s absence it would be necessary to change its genus, such as
its subsisting in itself and its being of necessary existence. The
non-essential quality has two kinds: one of them is that which requires an
eternal attribute and accident, for instance, when we say: He is powerful and
knowing, willing and living, hearing and seeing, everlasting2
and speaking, because this means power, knowledge, will, life, hearing, seeing,
speech, everlastingness and praise;3 the second is that which requires a
necessary temporal accident, as we say about his qualities: He is the Creator,
the Provider, the Life and the Death-giver, and whatever else makes necessary
one of His actions.
If someone now would say:
Does God have more than these eight qualities? the answer would be: Certainly
not, because, if we were to assume that there would be another quality in
addition to the eight qualities, this would necessarily be either a quality of
praise and perfection or a quality of deficiency and blame. If it were a
quality of praise and perfection, then its non-existence at a certain point
would be a deficiency. The Creator Most High is [always] described in qualities
of perfection in every respect. If it is a quality of blame and deficiency, its
non-existence would be necessary. Because these two possibilities are invalid,
it is established that it is not permissible to describe Him with other
qualities in addition to the eight qualities.
If someone would say: What
is the most specific description of God? the answer would be: God is most
specifically described by His power of creation [ikhtirāʿ] and bringing forth anew
[ibdāʿ]; nobody else can share this with him. Who confirms that in this He has
a partner, confirms that God has a partner, and therefore has established two
gods for the unicity of God Most High. Thereby, he has deserved the Fire, and God will never show His mercy to him unless he
renounces two gods. Through God we have protection from sin.
If someone should say: What
is the station [maqām] of those who are truthful? the
answer would be: the greatest rank [martabah] of men,
the highest degree [manzil] among them is [their]
knowledge of God. Now, as to this knowledge, there are three kinds of men:
[first] the one who has knowledge of the essence of God, and this is the
station of the prophets, the messengers, and the most excellent of the truthful
and the saints. The lord in this is the Messenger of God—may God bless him and
give him peace. God Most High has spoken: So know that there
is no deity save (the one) God [47:19], and he, on whom may be blessings
and peace, has said: I am among you the one who is most
knowledgeable about God, and among you the most fearful of God. Next,
the knowledge of God’s qualities is the station of the select among the
believers, according to the words of Him who is Most High: Will
they not then ponder on the Qurʾān? [4:82] [Finally,]
the knowledge of the acts1 of God Most High is the station of the
broad mass of the believers, according to the words of the Most High: Will they not regard the camels, how they are created?
[88:17]
Knowledge of the essence of
God Most High occasions awe [hayba] and glorification
[taʿẓīm]. Awe is the
exaltation of God the Real through diminution of man; glorification is to hold
in high honour [God] the Real through debasement of man. So, one should abstain
from the glorification and exaltation of anything other than Him so that
anything else but Him falls away from the mystery of exaltation and honouring,2
and nothing is glorified next to Him, nothing originated is looked at and
nothing created is turned to, except [as] it is left aside and subsumed under
the categories of knowledge of His Attributes, so that one is safe3
from anthropomorphism [tashbīh].
It is said: Knowledge is
oblivion of what is besides Him, and God is above all anthropomorphizations.
Did you not see how God Most High described His messenger when He said: The eye turned not aside nor yet was over bold [53:17].
Knowledge of God’s qualities
occasions tranquillity [sukūn] with God, and fear [khawf] of God Most High, striving for safety from the Fire
through the mercy of God Most High. Tranquillity with God, hope [rajāʾ] towards God, [complete] trust [tawakkul] in
God, and the other stations which His servants have, are in accordance with the
revelation of the attributes in their innermost hearts. He, on whom may be
blessings and peace, has said: Serve God as if you can see
Him, for if you cannot see Him, He can see you. This is the station of
those who have knowledge of the essence of God and the attributes of God which
are subsistent in Him.
Knowledge of the acts of God
Most High occasions reliance on the worship of God Most
High—God Most High has spoken: And serve thy lord until the
inevitable cometh unto thee [15:99] i.e. striving for rewards from God,
fleeing from God’s punishment and spending [everything] on God’s path. God Most
High has spoken: Who forsake their beds and cry unto their
Lord in fear and hope and spend of what We have bestowed on them
[32:16].
The true nature of knowledge, the sign of
the truly knowledgeable and the conditions for the knowledge of God
If someone said: What is the true nature
of knowledge? the answer would be: Vision of the Real, while one has lost
vision of that which is other than Him until all of the kingdom of God Most
High is, in his vision, smaller than a mustard seed.1 Now, this cannot be
borne by the hearts of those who are heedless. A poet has said:2
The lover3 strives for his Beloved’s contentment
and the hearts of the
knowers wish to meet Him.
Forever he looks at Him with
his hearts’ eye
and the heart knows its Lord
and sees Him.
Content is the lover4
with the Beloved by His nearness
without regard for men, and
nothing he wants that is other than He.
Abū Yazīd, may God have
mercy on him, said: Verily, in the night there are God’s folk who pass their
time in longing for Him. He recited:
You planted the seed of love into my heart
and it will not be consoled
until the day of meeting.
There is not ever someone
more miserable than the lover
although he finds passion
sweet of taste.
And he weeps when He is far,
out of yearning for Him
and he weeps when He is
near, from fear of separation.
You have taken possession of
my heart continuously
and my yearning increases
while love becomes apparent.
He gave me a draught to
drink which has enlivened my heart
with the cup of desire from
the ocean of love.
So, my passion is
growing—and passion does increase
my
patience is lost and the ecstasy of love becomes apparent.
My heart, O my heart, O my
heart!
as if you were thirsty in
every wādī.1
And if it were not for God
who protects those who know Him
the knowers would be thirsty
in every wādī.
If someone would say:
What is the sign of him who has knowledge? the answer would be: The signs of
him who has knowledge are that he looks at the world with the eye of
example-taking and at the hereafter with the eye of expectation, at the soul
with the eye of contempt and at obedience with the eye of excuse, at knowledge
with the eye of welcoming and at God with the eye of being proud [of God].
Abu’l-Qāsim al-Kharrāzī
al-Maghribī said: ‘The one who has knowledge is satisfied with everything until
he reaches God, and when he has reached Him he is satisfied with God without
anything else—and people are in need of him’.
Rābiʿah al-ʿAdawiyyah—may God be
content with her—said: ‘He who has knowledge asks God for his heart as a gift,
and He gives it to him. Then, when he owns the heart he gives it to his Lord,
so that in His grasp it is preserved and in His veil it is concealed from all
creatures’.
Dhū’l-Nūn al-Miṣrī—may God have mercy on
him—said: ‘For those who have knowledge it is necessary to renounce all sins
out of shame for His glory and out of fear for His punishment’.
And one of them [i.e. the
mystics] said: ‘The sun of those who have knowledge
is brighter than the sun of the day and more brilliant, for the sun of the day
is eclipsed at times, but the suns of the heart are not eclipsed ever;2
they have light in every form. The sun of the day sets with the night, but not
so the sun of the hearts’. About this he has recited:
Problem: Man does not
truly know his Lord until he knows three things: Firstly: that he knows the
world by its transience; secondly, that he knows the soul by its faultiness.
Who knows the world by its transience occupies himself with the warning
[example it presents], and his sign is that he turns away from it. The one who
knows the outcome (i.e. the Hereafter) by its permanence occupies himself with
worship, and his sign is that he has a longing for it. Who knows the soul by
its faultiness occupies himself with servitude, and his sign is that he
abandons his rank.
When man now knows these
things as we have mentioned them, then he has true
knowledge of his Lord, and his sign is rejection of the soul, the world and1
the outcome.
If someone would say: What
is the difference between worship [ʿibādah] and servitude [ʿubūdiyyah]? the answer would be: Worship is the affirmation of obedience and
servitude is the absence of the consideration of sincere devotion in obedience.
The soul and the world as veils
You should know that all that veils man
from God Most High is the soul. Now, the soul [consists of] four things:
feasting and people, fortune and rank. Whoever leaves behind people and
feasting to him has been given wisdom and nearness to God. And whoever leaves
behind fortune and rank, to him have been given contentment and vision [of
God].
A man who [was] with
al-Junayd—may God’s mercy be upon him—said: ‘The veil that separates man from
God consists of three things: the soul, people, and the world’. Thereupon
Junayd—may God be pleased with him—said: ‘This is the veil for the common
people but the veil of the elect consists of three things: consideration of
obedience, consideration of the reward for obedience, and consideration of high
esteem’.2
The reality of the world is
[its being] the first part of life which is followed by death and annihilation.
None of the created things will remain. He who seeks it is like the dung beetle
that falls in love with excrement. For the devout and the worshippers it is
like prison, and the devout and the worshippers cannot be restful in it. It has
no permanence, no stability, and no weight. Its beginning is permanence and its
end is annihilation. But the Hereafter is the everlasting life which does not
cease to be, nor does it become extinct. God Most High has spoken: That which ye have, wasteth away and that which God hath remaineth.3
You should know that
Paradise is of two kinds: the postponed [muʾajjalah] paradise and the immediate [muʿajjalah] paradise. The postponed paradise is reward and felicity, and the
immediate paradise is the sweetness of service, the abundance of worship and
religious exercises, abandonment of the world in all its active ways, and
abandonment of things except for God Most High.
Snippet: You should know
that vision is of two kinds: the postponed vision and the immediate vision. The
postponed vision is gazing at God Most High in Paradise in the state of
address. The immediate vision is contemplating [shuhūd]
and witnessing [mushāhadah].
Snippet:
You should know that what is service for people in active life is
sanctification for those who have knowledge. If someone asks: ‘What is the
difference between the two?’ the answer is: service is movement of the body
according to the command [of God] and with security [for others].1
Sanctification is stillness of the heart in the presence of the command through
the security. The command concerns service and the security [for others]
[results] from the security [with God].2 Service leads to the
Hereafter and sanctification leads to the vision of the Lord.3
Service is like merchandise, [while] sanctification leading to vision4
is like the saleability of the merchandise. Since, for each merchandise for
which there are no sales, there is no value. Likewise, if with it (i.e.
service) there is no sanctification, no use can be drawn from it.
Aspiration, will, and desire
‘Man of aspiration’ [means] that he is
travelling on his path; ‘man of volition’ [means] he is halting on his path or
seemingly so. Others say: The man of aspiration is reaching his goal, the man
of volition is travelling on the path, and the man of desire is falling on the
path. It is also said: The man of aspiration is free from the shackle of the
intermediaries and the veil, the man of volition is free from the veil and tied
with the shackle of intermediaries, and the man of desire is tied with the
shackle of the veil and the intermediaries. Junayd—may God have mercy on
him—has said: ‘The man of aspiration is a male, the man of volition is a
hermaphrodite, and the man of desire is a female’. It is also said: Aspiration
is in the innermost centre, will is in the heart and desire is in the soul.
Self-deprivation and self-isolation
You should know that self-deprivation is
for the commonalty and self-isolation is for the elect. Self-deprivation means
an outward depriving oneself5 of things, an inward depriving oneself
of [hoped-for profits],6 and the substitution [of this world] for the next. Its meaning is: One
should not look for the world as a goal. Self-isolation is the withdrawal from
one’s states and acts until one’s only wish is God Most High. It is said:
Self-deprivation is your separation from everything that is not He and
self-isolation is your being withdrawn from seeing that which is not He.
It is also said:
Self-deprivation is taking leave of passion, and self-isolation is divorce from
passion. And they say: Self-deprivation is leaving aside the world because of
the Hereafter and self-isolation is leaving aside the Hereafter because of the
Lord. Also, it is said: Self-deprivation is the elimination of reliance from
existence, and self-isolation is the reliance in all things on the godhead
which will bring about everything aimed at.
The spiritual struggle, the unveiling and
the witnessing
You should know that the spiritual
struggle [mujāhadah] is the manifestation of exertion
and strength in the arena of exertion. Unveiling [mukāshafah]
is the lifting up of the uncertainty from the heart in the arena of knowledge.
Witnessing [mushāhadah] is the presence of the
innermost secret with the Real in the place of seclusion in the Dominion.
It is said: The spiritual
struggle is fire with fire, the unveiling is light with light, and the
witnessing is light upon light. It is also said: Witnessing is of three kinds:
the witnessing of the adepts, that is, the vision of the heart; the witnessing
of the sincere devotees and that is the heart being in seclusion veraciously
with the Truth. God Most High has spoken: Is not the time
ripe for the hearts of those who believe to submit to God’s reminder
[57:16]. This is the seclusion of the heart from everything but the Lord, His
command and that which is sent down from the Real. The witnessing of those who
have knowledge is the legitimate vision in everything, as the Seclusionists say
about the seclusions, meaning, however, that he (i.e. the knower) sees in the
created things the signs of His omnipotence, as the poet says:
And in everything there
is a sign of Him that points to Him being the One.
Third Treatise, Knowledge of the Soul and
God, this World and the Hereafter (Risālah fī maʿrifat
al-nafs)
You should know that the structure of
Islam rests on four things: knowledge of the soul, and knowledge of God Most
High, knowledge of this world and knowledge of the hereafter.
As to the first principle,
it is necessary for every human being to know his soul. Because when he does
not know his soul, there is no way by which he could know God Most High. For
knowledge of the soul is the key to knowledge of God Most High. The Messenger
of God—may God bless him and give him peace—has said: Whosoever
knows his soul thereby knows his Lord. And in the books of the preceding
prophets [it is said]: Oh Man, know thy soul that you may
know thy Lord. In the Gospels [it is said]: Be not
like those who forget their souls, and so forget God—may He be praised! God said in what He, indeed, sent down to
His Messenger: Who would find the religion of Abraham
distasteful except one who is ignorant of his soul [2:130], meaning
[one] ‘who does not know it.’ And God Most High has spoken: We
shall show them Our portents on the horizon and within themselves until it will
be manifest unto them that it is the Truth [41:53].
The human being: body and heart and their
relation to each other
You should know that the human being is
created from two things: the body and the heart.
Concerning the body; God
Most High created it composed of skin and flesh, sinews and veins, of blood,
bones, and marrow. God Most High has spoken: And He created
you by (diverse) stages [71:14]. In every one of its parts there is a
wondrous meaning and thousands of sinews, bones, and veins and other parts.
Each one of them has a shape and a form that is different from the other and
none of them has been created if not for a designed purpose. The eye is
composed of ten different layers. If one of them1 were defective,
vision would be defective. They have composed volumes about the functions of
these layers.
The liver was created so
that the foods of different kinds can get to it from the stomach. Then it makes
them into one single kind, this is the substance of blood, so that it can serve
as nourishment for the seven [organs]. Now, when the blood cooks in the liver a
sediment is generated in the lower part, and that is the black bile. In its
upper part yellow water [is generated] and that is the yellow bile. The blood
itself is of fine substance, without firmness.
Then the spleen was created
to draw the black bile from it (i.e., the blood) to itself, and the gallbladder
was created to draw the yellow bile from it. The kidneys were created to draw
the water from the blood so that it would get firmness. The blood then gets to
the veins, then to the organs. Should damage come to the gallbladder, however,
the yellow bile would stay in the blood, and from it would be generated
jaundice, fever, and other yellow bile-related illnesses. If damage should
befall the spleen, the black bile would stay in the blood and from it would be
generated epilepsy, blindness, and other black bile-related illnesses. If
damage would befall the kidneys, the water would stay in the blood, and from it
would be generated dropsy. And so every one of the outer and inner parts is
created for a specific use, and if it were not for that part the order of the
body would be disturbed. This summary cannot possibly give the multiplicity of
those functions.
Rather there are in the body
of one single human being, despite all the smallness of its stature,
equivalents of that which is in the heavens and the earth. The bones are equivalents of the mountains, the veins [are
equivalents] of the rivers, the hairs are like the plants, the brain like the
heaven, and the senses are like the stars. In it are likenesses of all the
craftsmen in the world. The force which digests the food in the stomach is like
the cook, the one who sends the pure food to the liver and the dregs to the
thick intestines is like the [oil or juice] presser, the force that makes the
food into the colour of the blood is like the dyer, the one that changes the
blood into the colour of the milk in the breasts and makes it a drop in the
testicles is like the bleacher, the force that draws from the liver nourishment
to every single part of the organs and sends the water to the bladder is like
the cupbearer, the force that discharges the dregs to the outside is like the
street-sweeper, and the one that eliminates harm and illness is like the
righteous leader.
God Most High has granted
every human being the things that he needs as a necessary means for his
viability, like the heart, the liver, the brain and the fundamentals of living
beings. He has also granted things that he (i.e. the human being) needs,
although they do not belong to the absolute necessities of his life, like hand
and foot, eye and tongue. And He has granted him things to make his beauty
perfect, like the blackness of the hair, the redness of the lips, the curves of
the eyebrows, and things like that.
Now, it is necessary for
every Muslim to contemplate those wonders of the craftsmanship of God Most High
in his body which I have made clear, and [it is necessary] that he firmly
believes that God Most High is powerful, that there is no weakness in His
power, and that He is the Knowing One in whose knowledge there is no
shortcoming; that the Most High is wise and in His wisdom there is no
feebleness nor shortcoming and so on for the other qualities of perfection. So,
he who contemplates the wonders of a poem in well-balanced words and meaning,
or the writing of a scholar skilled in the sciences, or the artefact of a
skilled craftsman, and he perceives its wonders and its intricacies—the powers
of poet, writer, and craftsman1 become overwhelmingly grand in his
heart. Likewise, he who contemplates the wonders of the craftsmanship of God
Most High in his body and his heart will firmly believe that the power of God
Most High, His knowledge and His Wisdom, His Loving-kindness and His Mercy are
perfect and inexhaustible, that the one who has the power of creating something
like this from despised water2 most certainly has the power of
reviving him after death, that he [should] occupy himself after gratefulness
for Him, the Most High, with not rebelling against him by the faculties of
these limbs, as Junayd—May God have mercy on him—has said: Gratefulness
is not rebelling against God Most High for His blessings, that he occupy
himself with the performance of what is made incumbent upon him, because that
belongs to thankfulness. God Most High has spoken: Give
thanks, O House of David! Few of my bondsmen are
thankful [34:13]. He [should] consider that, if one of the kings of the
world were to send his slave to him to serve him all his life, while God Most
High has sent to his inward and outward self several thousand craftsmen that
they should serve him all of his life, but he does not thank Him.
All of this is about the
knowledge of the body.
As for the heart; it is the
soul and essence of the human being. It is that which knows God Most High, and
is God’s close friend when it is free of the mean qualities and adorned with
the praiseworthy qualities. But it is an enemy to God Most High when it is
sullied with the impurities of non-belief and [the] acts of disobedience and
[when it is] characterized by the evil qualities of trickery, deception, and
hypocrisy. Now, the body follows it in all of this. The heart is a spiritual
thing that cannot be grasped by the senses. It is, however, created and
originated.
It has an advantage over the
body of two kinds: One is with regard to knowledge, and the second with regard
to capability.
Concerning the first, God
Most High has given man the capacity to understand all the sciences—the
sciences of the religious laws and religion, geometry and arithmetic, medicine
and astrology, and the different kinds of crafts and trades. He can encompass
all these spheres of knowledge, nay, the whole world is in him as the tiny
grain in the desert of the Banū Isrāʾīl, and he travels in his mind from the highest to the lowest, and from
East to West in a single moment. He knows the measurement of the heavens and
the earth and the measure of all the stars. With ingenious devices he pulls the
large fish1 out of the depth of the sea, makes the birds fall out of the sky, and
he makes subservient even the animals that have strength like the elephant, the
camel, and the horse.
Concerning its superiority
with regard to its capacity, it is such that the heart belongs to the category
of the angelic substance. So, just as the world of bodies is subservient to the
angels by the decree of God Most High, they make the rain fall and let loose
the winds, they give the different kinds of living beings their form in the
womb and to the plants in the belly of the earth and on the outside of it, and
each one of its different classes is entrusted with one kind of these things,
just like that does the heart have the power with which it makes subservient to
itself some of the bodies.
The special world for every
human being is his body, and this body is subservient to his heart, like the
subservience of the rain to the angel2 who is charged with letting it fall,
like the subservience of death to the angel of death, and the subservience of
the winds that are let loose to the angel who is entrusted with them. Whenever
the heart commands the hands, the feet, and the fingers to move, they move, and
if it commands them to be still, they are still. If anger emerges in the heart
the veins will swell in every part of the body, and if desire for sexual
intercourse emerges a wind from the heart will blow to the site of the sexual
organs; if [the human being] wants to eat food the gland which is underneath
the tongue will start to set free the water gradually until the food is
moistened and he can swallow the food—and other things like this, which are not
hidden from anybody whether he be clever or stupid.
Character and character traits
You should know that every deed of a human
being—be it good or bad—even if it is small, creates different effects in his
heart. These effects are being presented to him in his book on the Day of
Resurrection; and these effects are called character.
The heart of the believer
corresponds to a polished mirror. Blameworthy character traits such as envy,
gloating, haughtiness and aggressiveness, ruse, deception, treachery and
dissimulation, conceitedness, hypocrisy, grudge, and whatever resembles them
correspond to the smoke and the murkiness that falls upon the mirror, blackens
it, and makes it concealed from God Most High in the hereafter—and God save us
from that!
The good character traits
such as contentment, bashfulness and patience, noble-mindedness, knowledge,
learning and reason, wisdom, righteousness, and the likes of them correspond to
light that falls upon the mirror and removes the darknesses of disobedience and
the badness of the ugly character traits. The Messenger of God, may God bless
him and grant him peace, hints at this with his words. Let
the bad be followed by the good,—it will then wipe it out.
The hearts will assemble on
the Day of Resurrection either polished and illuminated or blackened and
sullied, and no one but the one who brings to God a blameless heart will be
saved.
Among the polished and
illuminated hearts are some that are more polished and more illuminated than
others. Sometimes one of the hearts of the faithful is [very] strong and the
strength of its light reaches the point that, if its awe-inspiring appearance
would fall upon a lion, he would follow it. And if he devotes his zeal to a
sick person, this person would be healed instantly. If he would happen to think
about a man who was far away from him, whom he would wish to come near to him,
there would emerge inside of that man movement and determination and he would
then rise and go to him. And if it would be his intention that the heavens
should rain, the rain would fall—and likewise with other miracles of the
saints.
Just as the illuminated
hearts are different [from each other] so do the blackened hearts differ [from
each other in] degree; some are more blackened and more evil than others.
Sometimes the badness of the
heart of a hypocrite or an unbeliever is [very] strong and he looks, for
instance, at a beautiful creature with the eye of envy and that creature
perishes instantly. This is affliction by the evil eye, and this does certainly
exist. The Messenger of God—may God bless him and grant him peace—has said: The evil eye is a reality. He also said: The evil eye brings a man into the grave and the camel into the
cooking pot. Some sorcery is of this category, that is, the category of
the malignancy of the heart. Now if I were to explain its way, then this would
be teaching sorcery on my part, about which one is not allowed to speak
clearly.
Of praiseworthy and
blameworthy character traits there are many, but in spite of their large number
they can be reduced to four categories:
(1)The character traits of the hoofed animals:
abundance of food and abundance of copulation.
(2)The
character traits of the predatory animals: like causing pain and injury to the
Muslims.
(3)The
character traits of the devils: like temptation, trickery, and deception.
(4)The
character traits of the angels: like faith, knowledge, intellect, self-control,
righteousness, and fear of God.
Now man has been
charged with disciplining the pig of greed and voracity, the wolf of injury and
killing and the devil of trickery and deception, and to put them under the
administration of reason and self-control until he has reached permanent bliss
and attains the praiseworthy character traits. If he would not discipline them,
but submit to them he would attain the blameworthy character traits which are
the source to this man in a dream or in a wakefulness he would see himself
standing in front of the pig or the wolf or the devil, submitting to them,
obeying them, nay, prostrating and humiliating himself in front of them. And
this is so, not because the pig, the wolf, and the devil are blameworthy as to
their appearance and their form, but through the qualities they have in
themselves namely injury, voracity, and deception.
In the tradition it is said:
There are among the angels such as have the forms of the hoofed animals, those
that have the form of the wild animals, and those that have the form of the
birds. All angels however, are exempt from the blameworthy character traits
like unbelief and hypocrisy, aggressiveness, malice, deception, temptation, and
so forth. They are exclusively given to the praiseworthy character traits like
faith, knowledge, sincerity, and the like. If now the hoofed animals, the wild
animals, and the devil were blameworthy because of their form and appearance
then those angels would be blameworthy in the eyes of God Most High, but this
is not so. However, those who are dominated in this world by inflicting injury
and damage to the believers, they will be gathered on the Day of Resurrection
in the form of a wolf, a dog, or a snake. Those who are dominated in this world
by voracity and desire for mean deeds, they will be gathered in the form of the
pig. Those, who are dominated in this world by trickery and deception, they
will be gathered in the form of the devil. Those, however,
who were dominated in this world by learning and knowledge, by intellect and
righteousness, they will be gathered in the form of an angel near to God.
If someone would say: Since
the characteristics of the animals of prey and the hoofed animals, the devil,
and the angels come together in man, how do you know that the original state
[of man] is that of the angels, and that the others are accidental? How do you
know that it is demanded of him to acquire the character traits of the angels
rather than any of the others?
I would say: The human being
is truly the most noble and the most preferred of all living being and the
devils—there is no doubt about it. God Most High has spoken: Verily We have honoured the children of Adam up to where He
spoke: and have preferred them above many of those whom We
created with a marked preferment.1
Now if his preference and
nobility were in [matters of] food and drink, then the camel and the elephant
would be more entitled to be preferred and honoured than he, because they both
eat much more and have bigger bellies. If it were for the frequency of
copulation, then the sparrow would be preferable and more in favour than he,
because the lowliest of the sparrows copulates more than he. And if it were for
causing pain and damage the lion would preferable to him. If it were for
trickery, ruses and deception, the devil would be preferable to him. But it is
not so.
However, God Most High has
granted him like what He has granted the other creatures and more than that,
which is, sincerity, and similar praiseworthy qualities. So he knows that his
superiority, his high rank, and his noble status lie in this, not in that which
he shares with the other living beings. For, when two things are alike in a
special characteristic and one of them is singled out by the advantage of an
additional characteristic then one knows that it has been created for the
special distinction with which it has been favoured. For instance, the horse is
similar to the donkey in its capacity to carry burdens, but it is especially
characterized by galloping in battles fighting the infidels, so one knows that
it has been created for running in battles, fighting the infidels. The
Messenger of God—May God bless him and grant him peace—hinted at this when he
said: The good is tied into the forelock of the horse.
Now when the horse becomes too weak to run [in battles] and is not too weak to
carry burdens, then it has left the horse character and has been brought down
to the level of the donkey and that is its ruin and its downfall. And so all
men share something with the hoofed animals, but are distinguished by learning
and knowledge, reason and modesty, and similar things in which the other living
beings do not participate. So you should know that he (i.e. man) is honoured
and has excellence because he is special in these [qualities] and not in those
that he shares with the hoofed animals, the animals of prey, and the devils.
But who straightaway bans the praiseworthy character traits and takes on as
characteristics trickery and deception, he has left the level of humanity and
stepped down to the abodes of the devils. So it is also with the other
qualities. From all we have said has come about knowledge of the soul and
knowledge of God Most High.1
The world and man’s place in it
As to the third principle, which is
knowledge of the world, you should know that this world and the Hereafter2
are two expressions of your two conditions: what is3 before death—and
this is that which is nearer and closer—is called the world (al-dunyā) which is the feminine of ‘nearer’ (adnā), just as al-ʿulyā is the feminine of al-aʿlā (highest)—and what is after death is called the hereafter.
The world is one of the
way-stations of those who travel to God Most High, a market place erected in
the desert on the path of those who travel the road of religion for them to buy
from it provisions for the journey towards God Most High.
Man, in his beginning, was
created in imperfection, but he has the disposition that enables him to attain
perfection and to become worthy of the proximity of the Divine Presence and
seeing God Most High. This is his paradise and the highest degree of his bliss.
For this he was created and with this he has been charged. But the vision of
God Most High is not possible for him as long as his eyes are not opened, and
his eyes are not opened as long as knowledge of God most High has not come to
him. Knowledge of God does not come to him as long as he does not know the
wonders of the handiwork of God Most High, and the knowledge of the wonders of
the handiwork of God Most High does not come to him save by the senses. It is
not possible for the senses to exist in this mould that is made of water and
dust. So, there is an urgent need for the world of water and dust that he takes
provisions from it, and two things are necessary for him.
One is that with which he
protects his heart from the causes of its ruin and with which he can attain
nourishment for the heart.
The second one is that with
which he protects his body from destructive influences and with which he
attains nourishment for the body.
The heart’s nourishment is
knowledge of God Most High and love of Him. The reason for its ruin is that man
becomes absorbed in loving something else rather than God Most High.
One should care for the body
because of the heart, for it is for the heart what the camel is for the pilgrim
on the road of pilgrimage, to bring him to the Kaʿba and to make easier for him the hardships
of the journey. So, for the pilgrim it is necessary to care for the camel
according to its needs. If, however, he kept himself occupied with it in a way
that exceeds the extent of its needs until, one day, the caravan moves on and
he stays behind, busy with the care of his camel, he would be one looking after
his camel not one on a pilgrimage. And so the human being, when he busies himself
with the care for his body and neglects the care for his heart, is deprived of
his bliss.
The needs of the body
What the body needs in this world are
three things: Food for eating, clothes for covering up, and an abode to ward
off from his body damage from heat and cold. All this [is] according to
necessity, so that if he ate more than his body’s limit, this would become a
reason for his ruin, and he would be responsible for it.
If he would put on many
clothes their weight would be heavy for him to carry and he would be harmed by
them. And if he would have more of an abode than necessity requires, he would
be harmed by the care for it—contrary to the nourishment of the heart which is
knowledge of God Most High and the love of Him, for the more it gets increased
the better it becomes.
God Most High has in His
benevolence given desire power over the human being, so that he may desire for
whatever is necessary for him in terms of food, housing, and clothing. [This
is] so that his body which is his mount may not perish. Now desire has not been
created for staying within a limit, so God Most High created reason to keep it
from exceeding its limits. Then God Most High sent down the religious
prescriptions of Islam onto the tongue of the messengers—Blessings and peace
may be upon them—to make clear the limits.
However, desire was laid
down in the body before reason because of [the] necessity of the minor for it,
and he was charged with the religious prescriptions after reason was put into
him. So desire settled down in the body and took possession of it before reason
and religious law, and then rebelled against those two. But they admonish and
remind him of what the food, the clothes and the abode was really for, so that
he would not forget the nourishment for the heart, which is the provision in
his Hereafter.1
Since the body needed food,
clothing, and housing, it needed farming in the attainment of food, weaving in
the attainment of clothing, and building in the attainment of housing. Then it
found need for branches of these crafts like cotton ginning and spinning, which
fulfil the needs of the weaver, and like sewing which completes the clothing
after the weaving. All of this needed instruments made of wood, iron and other
materials, and from this came forth the other handicrafts like smith-craft and
carpentry.
Every one of those
professionally engaged people was in need of support of his companions because
of his incapability to master all the crafts. So they needed a society in one
place, so that the tailor could sew the cloth of the weaver for a price, and the weaver could weave the yarn of the spinner for a
price, that the builder could build a house for the tailor and the weaver for a
price. And so came forth between them the human relations which lead to dispute
and controversy. Now there arose the necessity for three other crafts: these
are governance, dispensation of justice and jurisprudence, by which are made
known the laws of mediation between people.
Man’s craving for the world
Many are the distractions of the world,
and the human being occupies himself with it with his heart and his body, by
loving it, as far as the heart is concerned, and by possessing it, as far as
the body is concerned. Now through the love of it are engendered in his heart
destructive qualities like greed, stinginess and envy, enmity, malice,
estrangement and the like. So people are going astray from their souls,
something comes between them and their hearts, and they forget that the basic
needs are three, and these are: food, clothing and housing. These three are
there because of the body, and the body is there because of the heart, and the
heart is there for attaining knowledge of God Most High. So they forget their
souls and their Creator, and they become like the pilgrim who forgets the Kaʿba, forgets the journey
towards it, and occupies himself all his life with looking after the camel. The
Messenger of God—May God bless him and give him peace—hints at this with his
words: Beware of the world, for it is more bewitching than
Hārūt and Mārūt.1
1. I prefer to read ma ʿrifat kunh dhātih instead of kunh maʿrifat dhātih.
2. I read lā yaʿrifu khuṣūṣ al-dhāt instead of
lā khuṣūṣ al-dhāt.
1. I read (wa)-yubnā
ʿalayh al-istibʿādāt, which is an emendation of ybny (?) ʿalayh al-istiʿādāt, which the editor has left
out in the printed edition, because it does not make sense to him.
2. Following the editor’s
suggestion, I read sabab li’l-najāt wa’l-khalāṣ instead of … min al-khalāṣ.
3. The remaining part of the
verse is: and you will find none to help them.
1. I prefer to read al-rūḥ laṭīfah (parallel to al-nafs al-laṭīfah) instead of al-rūḥ al-laṭīfah.
2. The editor quotes here in a
footnote a passage from al-Ghazzālī’s Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm
al-dīn,
of which the following is a translation: The third word: the soul. This is also
being shared by several meanings, two of which are connected with our goal. One
of them is that with which is meant the general concept of the power of anger
and lust in the human being, and as such it is used predominantly among the
Sufis, because by ‘soul’ they mean the general seat of the blameworthy
character traits of the human being. They say: It is absolutely necessary to
fight against the soul and to break it. There is a hint to this in the words of
him on whom be peace: Your greatest enemy is your soul which
is between your two sides.—The second meaning: It is a fine substance
which is the human being in his true form, and it is the self of the human
being and his essence. It is, however, described in different ways according to
its different states … So, the soul in the first meaning is blameworthy and the
object of blame, but in the second meaning it is praiseworthy.
3. The word knowledge (ʿilm) has been added by the
editor.
4. This refers to the ḥadīth: Your greatest enemy is your
soul which is between your two sides.
5. I read fa-taghība
instead of wa-taghību which seems to make more sense.
6. The editor adds ḥuḍūr.
1. A. J. Arberry’s translation.
2. With a change of diacritics
and the addition of a letter one could read buḥbūḥah, which makes more sense than
najwā. See also the rather helpless footnote of the
editor.
3. The editor quotes the
following Sufi saying: Sufism means ‘that one is not possessed by anything and
does not possess anything.’
4. The editor quotes another
Sufi saying: The Sufi is not troubled (lit.: not rendered turbid) by anything,
but everything is made pure by him.
5. I read saḥāt for sakhāʾ and wa-lā
for wa-lahā.
1. I follow the author’s
emendation. The text says: He (i.e. God) said.
2. ʿIshrah in Arabic does not normally
have a negative meaning. It may thus be a slip of the pen (for qaswah, ‘cruelty’?).
3. I prefer to reject the
emendation of the editor, proposing instead to read tuḥibbuhā for tuḥibbuhu in the Ms.
4. To clarify this, the editor
quotes from al-Ghazzālī’s Iḥyāʾ, where he says that the
soul, when it is not yet in a state of complete peace, but is opposing and
resisting the passions is called the blaming soul, because it blames its
possessor when he falls short of obedience toward God.
5. This tripartition ‘is found
as early as the Qurʾānic commentary by Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq. He holds that the nafs is peculiar to the ẓālim, “tyrant”, the qalb to the muqtaṣid, “moderate”, and the rūḥ to the sābiq, “preceding one,
winner”; the ẓālim loves God for his own sake, the muqtaṣid loves Him for Himself, and
the sābiq annihilates his own will in God’s will’.
Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam
(Chapel Hill, NC, 1975), p. 191.
1. ʿAbd Allāh al-Anṣārī?
2. This does not fit in with
the other attributes.
3. I agree with the editor who
says that there is no place here for this attribute.
1. I have added afʿāl here, because this is the third
category as taken up again on the next page of the text.
2. I read wa-ʿan al-iʿzāz instead of wa-iʿzāz.
3. I read fa-yuslam
instead of just yuslam.
1. In agreement with the editor
I leave out the second fī janb ruʾyat Allāh
taʿālā, because it does not seem to make
sense.
2. The editor has made
significant changes in the text of the poem, because of metrical defects.
3. I read muḥibb instead of the editor’s ḥabīb, which also fits in
metrically.
4. See preceding note.
1. Compare Qurʾān 26:225; Hast thou not seen how they stray in
every valley.
2. I prefer to read the ms.’s tankasif instead of the editor’s yankasif.
1. Here, I leave out the
editor’s insertion al-iqbāl ʿalā.
2. This could be translated as:
consideration of (God’s) honour (of him), i.e. being
able to perform supernatural feats, the miracles of the saints.
3. Qurʾān 16:96.
1. According to a ḥadīth ‘the person of faith is he
before whom people feel secure (amn) with their
possessions and themselves’, as quoted in William C. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge (Albany, NY, 1989), p. 194.
2. This is a literal
translation with my additions. The text seems to be corrupt.
3. Here, the text has: ‘He
said’, which can be left out.
4. Text corrupt, I propose the
admittedly radical emendation al-muwaṣṣilatu ilā for ka-rāḥimīn wa-.
5. I read al-tajarrud
instead of al-mujarrad.
6. I adopt the editor’s
emendation al-aʿrāḍ instead of al-amrāḍ.
1. I translate the variant
given in the footnote which makes sense. The main text says ‘all of them’.
1. I omit al-ʿālim, because it upsets the group
of three.
2. See Qurʾān 32:8; He made his seed from a draught of despised fluid, and 77:20; Did we not create you from a base fluid.
1. Arabic: ḥītān (pl. of ḥūt). This could also mean ‘the
whales’.
2. ‘Angel’, malak,
is missing in the Arabic text.
1. Qurʾān 17:70. The text in between reads: We carry them on the land and the sea
and have made provision of good things for them …
1. These are the first two
principles mentioned in the beginning of the text.
2. I omit knowledge
in front of this world and the hereafter, because it
is not logical.
3. Read fa-mā
instead of fī mā.
1. I prefer to read fī ākhiratihī instead of fī ākhirihi.
1. See also Qurʾān 2:102.
Aḥmad Ghazzālī
Aḥmad Ghazzālī is the younger brother of the legendary Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī whose fame
has historically over-shadowed the significance of Aḥmad’s contributions. He was born sometime
between 451–454/1059–1062 in the village of Tābirān near the town of Ṭūs in Khurāsān and died
sometime between 517–520/1123–1126 in Qazwīn.
His father, a textile weaver,
was not literate but had Sufi tendencies. On his death-bed Aḥmad’s father left the
guardianship of his children to Imam Aḥmad Rādkānī, a family friend known for his piety and Sufism. Little is
known about the nature of Aḥmad’s early studies but what is known is that he studied under the
direction of Rādkānī in his youth. Aḥmad studied Islamic jurisprudence in Ṭūs and practised austere forms of Sufism
under the supervision of Shaykh Abū Bakr Nassāj. His ascetic practices and
hermit-like lifestyle became legendary to those who knew him. In fact he became
one of the most famous Sufis of his time and is considered as the pole (quṭb) of many Sufi orders.
According to the tradition
of many Muslim authorities, Aḥmad Ghazzālī journeyed to Baghdad where he taught at the Niẓāmiyyah university as a
replacement for his brother Abū Ḥāmid between the years 488–498/1095–1104. He continued his journey
afterwards to the cities of Tabriz, Marāghah, Hamadān and Isfahan. He finally
travelled to the city of Qazwīn near Tehran where he lived from 515/1121 until
his death in 520/1126.
Among those who were
influenced by Aḥmad Ghazzālī were, first and foremost, his older brother Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī. Recent
studies clearly indicate that, especially in the domain of Sufism, this
influence has been underestimated. Among Aḥmad’s other notable students and followers
are: ʿAbd
Allāh ibn Muḥammad Miyānijī Hamadānī also known as ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī, Sanāʾī Ghaznawī, the great poet and gnostic,
Abu’l-Faḍl Ṣāʾin ibn ʿAbd Allāh Ṣūfī Baghdādī who is one
of the revered Sufi masters of the Niʿmatullāhī order, Shaykh ʿAbd al-Wāḥid Āmidī, Shaykh Rūzbihān Kabīr who was from Fārs province in Iran but is buried in Egypt, and Abu’l-Qāsim ʿUmar ibn Muḥammad known as Ibn
al-Bizrī Jazarī, a Shāfiʿī jurist. The list is a testament to the fact that Aḥmad Ghazzālī was one of
those Sufi masters who was also proficient in Islamic law. Finally, one can
name among his disciples ʿAbd Allāh Suhrawardī, who is the founder of the Suhrawardiyyah Sufi
order, and ʿAlī ibn Māzandarānī who was a Shiʿi authority in the transmitted sciences.
The opponents of Aḥmad Ghazzālī have
criticized him severely for having advocated a controversial Sufi practice
known as ‘shāhid bāzī’ in which focusing on earthly
beauty becomes a reminder of Divine Beauty. Many Sufis are known to have
reflected upon the beauty of the face of youth as a locus of manifestation of
Divine Beauty, a practice that provoked criticism from many exoteric jurists. Aḥmad Ghazzālī also had a
particular love for samāʿ, the Sufi practice of music and sacred
dance. This practice too was deemed deviant by some of the exoteric jurists
such as Yūsuf Hamadānī, Ibn Jawzī Ḥanbalī, Ibn Ṭāhir Muqaddasī Qayṣarānī and Ibn Ḥājar. Aḥmad Ghazzālī appears to have been a very wealthy man. Such figures as Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī and Aḥmad Rāzī among others
admonished him for lecturing on the virtues of poverty and asceticism while his
wealth was known to those who knew him. Finally, among the controversial
aspects of Aḥmad Ghazzālī one should mention his commentary on Lucifer, or Iblīs.
While Iblīs, in Islam, is considered to be a fallen angel, there is a literary
genre that offers an esoteric interpretation of this. Aḥmad Ghazzālī also offered
such an interpretation in which he considers Iblīs to be the true lover of God
since he rejected loving anyone else but God. This interpretation, in addition
to the previously mentioned practices, made Ghazzālī a somewhat controversial
figure and perhaps it was for the above reasons that he remained a relatively
neglected figure in comparison with his brother.
There have also been many
who have defended him. The Seljuk kings, in particular, Sulṭān Malik Shāh and his son
Sulṭān
Sanjar were among the devotees of Aḥmad. Also to the list of his admirers can be added his own brother Abū Ḥāmid who spoke highly of
Aḥmad’s
faith, as well as ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī, Ibn Athīr, Ibn Khallakān, Sayyid Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh and,
above all, Rūmī.
Aḥmad Ghazzālī’s legendary piety and fame as a
Sufi master became the basis for some to attribute to him the ability to
perform miracles. These miracles which included having visions at will of the
Prophet Muḥammad and the ability to read other people’s minds have been mentioned
by some of his admirers such as Ibn Kathīr, Ibn Mustawfī Arbalī and ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī.
Tracing the spiritual
genealogy of Sufi masters and their respective orders has always been an
integral part of the Sufi tradition. There are a number of Sufi masters and
Sufi orders which have been identified with Aḥmad Ghazzālī in one way or another. Among
them we can mention the Niʿmatullāhiyyah, Ṣafī ʿAlī Shāhiyyah, Dhahabiyyah, Kubrawiyyah, Suhrawardiyyah and even
Mawlawiyyah also known as Mevlevi whose grand-master was Rūmī himself.
In
this chapter we have included a section from the Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq (Auspices of Divine Lovers), a masterpiece of Persian prose that is
essentially a gnostic interpretation of love not as a mode of feeling but as a
mode of knowledge. Ghazzālī offers a detailed and highly esoteric
interpretation of the concept of lover, love and the beloved and the
relationship between them and analogizes this triune reality to the epistemic
relation between the knower, known and knowledge. Such Sufi concepts as
separation and unity, stages and types of love and the role of will power in
this complex relationship are among the topics discussed here.
M. Aminrazavi
Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq
Translated for this volume by Joseph
Lumbard from Aḥmad Ghazzālī, Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq, selections.1
7
Love comes and goes, it has increase,
decrease and perfection, and the lover has states within it. In the beginning
he may deny it, then he may submit to it. Then he may be disgraced and again
take to the path of denial. These states change according to the moment and the
individual; sometimes love increases and the lover denies it, sometimes love
decreases and the one who possesses it denies the decrease. For love must open
the castle of the lover to have a house for itself within, so that the lover
becomes tame and surrenders.
I said to the heart, ‘Do not tell the secret to the companion!
Beware! Tell no more of
love’s tale.’
The heart said to me, ‘Don’t say this again.
Expose your body to
affliction and say no more.’
8
(1) The special character of man is this, is it
not enough that he was beloved before being a lover? This is no small virtue.
‘He loves them’2 brought down so much sustenance for that beggar
before his arrival that he continues to partake of it for eternity upon
eternity, yet it remains.
(2) O noble lad, the
sustenance which is sent down in pre-temporality, how can it be received fully
except in post-temporality? No, rather contingency can only receive the
sustenance which eternity placed in pre-temporality completely in
post-temporality.
(3) O noble lad,
pre-temporality has reached here, post-temporality can never reach an end. The
sustenance that descends will never reach complete exhaustion. If you gain
insight into the secret of your moment, know that the ‘two bows-length’1
of pre-temporality and post-temporality are your heart and your moment.2
9
(1) The secret of this—that love never
shows the whole of its face to anyone—is that it is the bird of
pre-temporality. What has come here is the traveller of post-temporality. Here
it does not show its face to the vision of contingent beings, for not every
house deserves to be a nest for it, as it has always had a nest in the abode of
the magnificence of pre-temporality.3 Now and then it flies with
pre-temporality and hides behind the veil of the curtain of its majesty and
greatness. It has never shown the face of beauty completely to the vision of
knowledge and will never reveal it.
(2)
Because of this secret, if for a moment one sees the locus of its trust,1
it would be the moment at which he is liberated from the attachments and
obstacles of ‘mundaneness’ and released from the imagination of knowledge, the
calculation of fantasy, the philosophy of imagination and the espionage of the
senses.
Bring what draws the hearts of the friends together;
Like a whale draw sorrow
from my heart with one breath.
When I draw the sword of wine from the sheath of the goblet,
time must suffer from me;
Bring the son of the Magian
and give it to the old Magian.
For Rustam is carried only by Rustam’s Raksh;2
For those two are both from
‘thereness’, not ‘hereness’.
10
Love is its own bird and its own nest, its
own essence and its own attribute, its own wing and its own wind, its own arc
and its own flight, its own hunter and its own game, its own direction and what
is directed there, its own seeker and its own goal. It is its own beginning and
its own end, its own king and its own subject, its own sword and its own
sheath. It is garden as well as tree, branch as well as fruit, nest as well as
bird.
In the sorrow of love we are our own consoler;
We are frenzied and
bewildered by our own affair,
Enamoured by our own fortune,
Ourselves the hunters,
ourselves the game.
11
Beauty is one thing and belovedness is
another. The glance of beauty is one thing and the coquetry of belovedness is
another. The coquetry of beauty has no face toward another and has no
connection with what is outside. But as for the coquetry of belovedness,
amorous gestures, flirting, and coquetry, that is a reality which derives its
support from the lover, without him they will find no way. There is no doubt
that the beloved is here dependent upon the lover.
A Story:
There was a king with whom the
stove-tender of the public bath fell in love, and the vizier informed the king.
The king wanted to punish him. But the vizier said, ‘You are known for justice.
It is not proper that you punish him for love and a deed in which there is no
choice. Punishing him for what is beyond his will is far from just.’
It so happened that the
king’s route passed by the stove of that poor man, who would sit in that place
everyday waiting until the king would pass by. The king when reaching that
point would join the glance of belovedness to the glance of beauty and the
vizier noticed this. Until one day the king came and the stove-tender was not
sitting there. The king had assumed the glance of belovedness; that glance of
belovedness required the glimpse of the need of love. When he was not there the
king was left naked, for he did not find the place of acceptance. Anger
overtook the king. The vizier was shrewd and perceived what had happened. He
bowed down and said, ‘I said that punishing him would have no meaning, for no
harm came from him. Now we know for ourselves that his need has to be
answered.’
(2) O noble lad, the glance
of belovedness in beauty is like salt in the pot in order that the perfection
of charm (milāḥat) be connected to the perfection of beauty.
O noble lad, what would you
say if it was said to the king that he is free of you and has taken up with
another and become his lover? I do not know if any jealousy would arise from
within him or not.
O friend, do what you like but do not be the companion of another.
For then there will no
longer be anything left for me.
(3) Love is the
connecting band; it has an attachment to both sides. If its relation to the
side of the lover becomes sound a connection is necessary from both sides, for
it itself is the prelude to oneness.
12
The secret of the face of everything is
the point of His connection and a sign hidden in creation, and beauty is the
brand of creation. The secret of the face is that which faces love. So long as
one does not see that secret, he will never see the sign of creation and
beauty. That face is the beauty of ‘and the face of your Lord remains’ Other than Him there is no face, for ‘all that dwells upon
the earth will perish’.1 And that face is naught, as you know.
13
(1) The eye of beauty looks away from its
own beauty, for it cannot find the perfection of its own beauty except in the
mirror of the love of the lover. In this way beauty must have a lover so that
the beloved can take nourishment from its own beauty in the mirror of love and
the seeking of the lover. This is a great secret and the secret of many
secrets.
My increasing in drunkenness from her face was not without cause;
There was wine, the cup and
no rival to joy.
Forgive me if you say it was you;
It was she who was
searching, for I sought nothing.
(2) So the lover
himself is closer to the beauty of the beloved than the beloved, for the
beloved takes nourishment through the intermediary of the lover from her own
beauty and loveliness. Thus the lover is more a self than the self of the
beloved. That is why the beloved becomes jealous of the lover because of his
vision of the beloved. Regarding this reality it has been said:
O Lord, take justice for me from Alexander’s soul,
For he has made a mirror in
which You behold Yourself.
(3) Here where the
lover becomes more the beloved than the beloved, the wonders of the attachments
of connection are prepared as a condition for the non-attachment of the lover
with himself. Love’s connection will reach to the place where the lover claims
that he himself is the beloved: ‘I am the Real’2 and ‘Glory be to me’3
are this point. And if he is in the very state of banishment, separation and
unwantedness, he imagines that he has no place and that he himself is the
beloved.
There is so much coyness in my head from your love
That I mistakenly think you
are a lover for me.
Either union with you pitches a tent by my door,
Or I have lost my head in
complete error.
14
The beloved said to the lover: ‘Come!
Become me! For if I become you, then the beloved will be in need, the lover
will increase and need and necessity will become greater. Yet when you become
me the beloved will increase, all will be beloved not lover, all will be
coyness not need, all will be finding not necessity, all will be wealth not poverty,
all will be remedy not helplessness.’
15
(1) This affair will reach a place where
he will become jealous of himself and jealous of his own eye. Regarding this
reality they have said:
O friend, I do not take you to be the friend himself.
Being envious of you, I take
not the vision of myself as a friend.
I am sad not because I am not with you in my quarter,
I am sad because I am not
with you in the same skin.
(2) And this point will
sometimes reach a place where if one day the beloved becomes more beautiful,
the lover will become distressed and angry. So long as one has not tasted this
meaning it is difficult to understand.
16
(1) In reality love is affliction.
Intimacy and comfort in it are strange and borrowed, since separation in love
is really duality and union is really one. The rest is all the imagination of
union, not the reality of union. Regarding this it is said:
Love is affliction. I am the one who does not withdraw from affliction.
When love is asleep, I stir
up evil.
My friends told me to withdraw from affliction.
Affliction is the heart, how
can I withdraw from the heart.
The tree of love grows from within the heart.
When it needs water, I pour
it from the eyes.
Although love is pleasant, and unpleasant is
love’s sorrow,
I am happy when I mix the
two together.
17
(1) Since love is affliction, its
nourishment in knowledge is from the persecution which the beloved performs.
There where there is no knowledge, love itself is the reality of its
nourishment from oneness.
(2) Until there is proof for
love and until a connection [between the lover and the beloved] is the
necessity of the moment, a conflict chosen by the friend is more desired than
ten reconciliations.
(3) The beggar of love is
combined from rebuke and conflict, so that the heart will take to guarding its
breaths, for it cannot disregard anything. Until at last it eats regret and
bites his hand because of the regret of separation and strikes the top of regret
with the hand of remorse.
When I was in union with my idol,
I was always in strife and
conflict with her.
When distance came I was content with imagination;
O wheel! Punish me well for
my interloping.
Thus it is among
conflict, strife, peace, reconciliation, coquetry and glancing that this
discourse will be established.1
18
(1) To be self through one’s own self is
one thing, and to be self through one’s own beloved is another. To be self
through one’s own self is the unripeness of the beginning of love. When on the
path of ripening he is self and arrives from self, then he has reached beyond
her. Then he will reach beyond the self with her and beyond her.
(2) Here is where
annihilation becomes the qiblah of subsistence, the
pilgrim begins to circumambulate the holy Kaʿba, and like a moth connects to annihilation
from the frontier of subsistence.2 This is not contained in knowledge
except through allegory. Perhaps these verses which I
composed in my youth indicate this reality:
So long as the world-revealing cup is in my hand,1
Out of wisdom, the highest
wheel is subservient to me.
So long as the Kaʿba of non-being is the qiblah of my being,
The most sober man of the
world is intoxicated with me.
(3) ‘This is my Lord’,2
‘I am the Real’, and ‘Glory be to me’ are all the chameleon of this colouration
(talwīn) and are far from stability (tamkīn).3
19
(1) So long as he is his own self through
himself, he is subject to the edicts of separation and union, receiving and
rejecting, expansion (basṭ) and contraction (qabḍ), and sorrow and joy,
and he is captive of the moment. When the moment overcomes him he must follow
the edict of the moment’s colour, whatever edict the moment has. The moment
paints the lover according to its colour and edict and he will belong to the
moment. But in the path of annihilation from self, these edicts are wiped out
and these opposites are removed, because its origin transcends cause and
desire.
(2) When the lover comes
back from it (love) to his self his way to self is from it and through it.
Since his way to self is from it and through it, these edicts do not apply to
him. What would the edicts of separation and union do here? When would
acceptance and rejection entangle him? When would expansion and contraction and
sorrow and joy go around the court of his empire?4 As these verses say:
We sought the foundation of the universe and the origin of the world.
And passed easily beyond
cause and caused.
And that black light which is beyond the
point of lā,
Beyond this too we passed,
neither this nor that remained.1
(3) Here he is the
master of the moment.2 When he descends to the sky of the world he will overcome the moment,
the moment will not overcome him, and he will be free from the moment.
(4) Yes, his being is to her
and from her.3 Perhaps this is the separation of this state, and his annihilation is
from her and in her. They call this ‘hiding in the essence of illa.’4 Sometimes they call it being a hair in
the beloved’s tress. As has been said:
I have suffered so much cruelty from your tress,
That I have become a hair
from those two curved tresses.
What wonder from this then if I stay together with you?
What does one hair add or
remove from your tress?
20
(1) When this reality becomes known,
affliction and oppression are her castle-crashing mangonel for removing your
you-ness from you until you become her.
(2) When an arrow has been
shot from the bow of the will of the beloved at your you-ness suppose it to be
an arrow of oppression or kindness, for the conversation is about defect or
not—the arrow must have a direction or target, and its target must be the qiblah of the moment. Until she has turned her entirety to
you, how can she shoot? And when the shooting is at you specifically it will no
doubt require an account from you. How can these many links not be sufficient,
when one of them itself is enough? Here is where it has been said:
Draw one arrow from your quiver to shoot it.
Then place it in your strong
bow.
If you want a target, here is my heart.
From you a violent shot,
from me a joyful sigh.
21
(1) The beginning of love is this, that
the seed of beauty is planted in the ground of the heart’s seclusion by the
hand of witnessing. Its nurture is from the shining of observation (naẓar), but it is not one
colour. The planting of the seed and its picking must be one. Regarding this
they have said:
The origin of all loverness is from vision;
When the eye sees, then the
affair begins.
How many birds fall into the snare of covetousness?
In coveting light the moth
falls into the flame.
(2) Love’s reality is a
conjunction between two hearts. But the lover’s love for the beloved is one
thing, and the beloved’s love for the lover is another. The love of the lover
is real and the love of the beloved is the image of the reflection of lover’s
love in her mirror.
(3) Since there has
been conjunction in witnessing, the lover’s love requires helplessness,
baseness, suffering, wretchedness and submission in all affairs, and the
beloved’s love requires hubris, august and sublime.
Because of the beauty and the majesty of our
beloved,
We are not suitable for her,
she is suitable for us.
(4) However, I do not
know which is the lover and which the beloved. This is a great mystery, because
it is possible that the beloved’s allure comes first, then [comes]
accomplishment of this. But here the realities are opposite: ‘And you do not
will unless God wills.’1 ‘He loves them’ is before ‘they love him’2—no doubt. Bāyazīd
[Basṭāmī]
said, ‘For a long time I imagined that I desired Him. He Himself first desired
me.’3
22
(1) Although in the beginning the
beloved’s friends are friends and his enemies are enemies, when the affair
reaches perfection it is opposite and jealousy appears. The lover would not
want anyone to look at her:
I cannot watch the wind blow upon you,
Nor can I see anyone in the
world look upon you.
A piece of dust which the soul of your foot has graced,
Your servant will envy.
(2) From this turn the
affair will reach a place where her friend becomes an enemy and her enemy
becomes a friend, so long as no injury comes to him. Then this affair reaches a
place where the lover is jealous of her name, let alone of her. He does not
want to hear her name from anybody. He does not want anyone to see her beauty,
which is the locus of the heart’s consideration. He does not want anyone to
hear her name, which is the locus of his consolation. It would seem that she is
the qiblah of love, and he does not want anyone to
reach there.
23
(1) So long as love is in the beginning,
wherever he sees a likeness of this affair he brings it to the beloved. Majnūn
had not eaten food for some days when a deer fell in his trap. He was kind to
it and set it free. [They asked him why did you do that?] He said, ‘There was
something resembling Laylā in it.’ Cruelty is not fair.
(2) But this is still the
very beginning of love. When love reaches perfection, we believe perfection
belongs to the beloved and finds no likeness to her among what is other than
her, and cannot find [such likeness]. His intimacy with others is cut off,
except from that which has an attachment with her, like the dog of her quarter,
the dust of her way, and what is like unto that.
(3) When it reaches greater
perfection, this consolation also withdraws, for consolation in love is
deficiency—and his ecstasy increases. And every yearning from which union can
take something away, that is something diseased and defective. Union must be the
kindling for the fire of desire, so that it increases. This is that step where
the lover believes the beloved is perfection and seeks unification, and
whatever is outside of this will never satiate him. And he sees a crowd because
of his own existence. As has been said:
In your love my singleness is intense.
In describing you my ability
is impotence.
24
(1) In the beginning there is shouting,
crying out, and lamentation, for love has not yet taken the entire dominion (wilāyat). When the affair reaches perfection and it has
taken control, the situation is complete, and the lamentation [of the lover] is
replaced by [his] leanness and [his] observation [of the beloved]; for impurity
has been replaced by purity. As the poet said:
In the beginning when I was new to love,
My neighbour had no rest
from my cries.
Now that my pain has increased, the cries have decreased.
When fire consumes all,
smoke decreases.
25
When the lover sees the beloved, agitation
arises within him, because his being is borrowed and has a face toward the qiblah of non-being. His existence becomes agitated in
ecstasy, until he sits with the reality of the affair. Yet there is still not
complete maturity. When he becomes completely mature, he becomes absent to
himself in the encounter; for when the lover becomes mature in love and love
has opened his true nature, then when the vanguard of union appears, his
existence will leave in accordance with the measure of his maturity in the
affair.
A Story:
It has been transmitted that the people of
Majnūn’s tribe gathered together and said to Laylā’s family, ‘This man will be
destroyed because of love. What harm is there in giving him permission to see
Laylā once?’ They said, ‘On our part there is no stinginess regarding this, but
Majnūn himself does not have the fortitude to see her.’ They brought Majnūn and
drew back the door of Laylā’s tent. Laylā’s shadow had not yet appeared when
Majnūn, it must be said, became unconscious. They said, ‘We said that he did
not have the capacity to see her.’ Here is where the lover has an affair with
the dust of her quarter.1
If separation does not grant me audience with your union,
I will have an affair with
the dust of your quarter.
[This is] because he is
able to eat nourishment from her in the being of knowledge. But he cannot eat
nourishment from the reality of union, since [there] his he-ness does not
remain.2
26
(1) The flight of the beloved from the
lover is because union is no small affair. Just as the lover must surrender in
order to not be him[self], so too the beloved must surrender in order for the
lover to be her lover. So long as she does not consume him completely within
herself and does not consider him to be part of herself, and so long as she
does not accept him completely, she will flee from him. For although he does
not know this reality outwardly, his heart and soul know thewhale of love,
which is in the inner nature of the lover,1 what he extracts
from it and what is sent to it.
(2) Then this unification is
of many kinds: sometimes it is the sword and this is the sheath, sometimes the
opposite. Sometimes there is no way to account for it.
27
(1) From this reality it becomes known
that if separation is through the choice of the beloved, it is because she is
not content with one lover. And if it is through the choice of the lover then
it is because he has not yet completely entrusted his dominion (wilāyat) and has not been fully tamed by love.
(2) And it may be that
surrender and contentment come from both sides, but separation is the edict of
the moment and the blow of fortune, for many affairs lie outside their choice,
save an affair outside of which there is nothing.
28
(1) Separation is beyond union to some
degree; for so long as there is no union there is no separation, since
separation is itself a kind of connection. In reality union is separation from
self, just as in reality separation is union to self, except in imperfect love
where the lover has still not reached complete maturity.
2) The fault which the lover
commits under the domination (qahr) of love is that
he seeks separation from himself through his own destruction, for union is
bound to it. It may also be that his failure to find is due to the oppression
of his affair or the predominance of zeal.
29
(1) As long as love is in the beginning,
in separation there is nourishment from imagination and that is the vision of
knowledge, observing a form which has been represented within mind. But when
the affair reaches perfection and that form enters the heart, neither knowledge
nor imagination can eat nourishment from it. Because what is perceived through
the imagination is same as the locus of imagination. So long as love has not
taken hold completely something of the lover remains, so that he brings a
report about it back with the externality of knowledge in order to be informed.
But when it takes over the realm completely, nothing remains of the lover to
give a report in order to eat nourishment from it.
(2) Furthermore, when it
comes inside, the externality of knowledge cannot find the
coinage of the interior of the secret’s curtain. Then there is finding, but
there is no report from finding, for all is the essence of the affair. Perhaps
‘the incapacity to realize perception is perception’1 is an allusion to
something of this nature.
30
(1) The lover is not an external
existence, so as to always have a report from himself. This external existence
is an observer, sometimes the coinage of the moment may show a face to him
within and sometimes it may not. Sometimes his own coinage may present itself
to him, sometimes it may not. The inner worlds cannot be realized so easily.
This is not so easy because there are screens, veils, treasures and wonders
there. In this station there is no capacity to explain that.
31
(1) If one sees in his sleep, that is
because he has a face towards himself. His whole body has become the eye, and
the whole eye has become the face and been brought to the beloved, or to her
form; for it has been imprinted on his being.
(2) Here there is a great
secret, it is that whatever is the lover is inherent to the love of the beloved
and nearness and farness do not veil her; for the hand of nearness and farness
does not reach her skirt. Seeking that point is one thing, seeking the outward
is another.
(3) Now, when he sees in
sleep that is because he has seen something on the face of the heart and sends
the awareness toward knowledge in order to bring out a report from within the
veils.
32
(1) The lover is duplicitous with
creation, with himself and with the beloved. His duplicity with creation and
with himself is of the kind where he is pleased with a lie he himself has told,
although he knows he is lying. The reason is that when the mind accepts the
event of union, the presence of the beloved becomes established within–in the
imaginal [realm]–and his mind sees a share of union. So at that moment he eats
nourishment from her.
(2) So long as he is still
himself, he is not free of hypocrisy and he still fears blame. When he has
become tame, he has no fear and has been saved from every kind of hypocrisy.
(3) The hypocrisy with the
beloved is that the light of the lover shines within him and the outward hides
[love] to the extent that for a while he hides love from the
beloved, and while hiding from her loves her. But when the defect withdraws and
surrender comes, the light of love also shines upon his face; for his whole
being has been lost in her. In this state is found the magnificence of oneness.
What place is there for reticence?
33
(1) The royal court of love is the balcony
of the spirit, for in pre-eternity the brand of ‘Am I not your lord’1
had put its mark there. If the curtains become transparent, it will also shine
from within the veils.
2) Here there is a great
secret, for the love of this court comes outside from within and the love of
man comes inside from without. But it is apparent that it can only go so far.
Its end reaches the pericardium (shaghāf). Regarding
that state of Zulaykhā the Qurʾān revealed, ‘he has affected her so that the love of him has entered
beneath the pericardium of her heart’ (qad shaghafahā ḥubban).2 The pericardium is a cover, an externality of the heart, the heart is
in the middle of the realm and the descent of the illumination of love reaches
to it.
(3) If the veils withdraw
completely, the soul will also come to the affair. But a lifetime is required
in this affair in order for the soul to come to the path of love. The free
scope of the world, creation, passions and language is in the curtains of the
heart’s externality. It is rare that it reaches the heart, and the heart itself
never reaches love.
34
(1) The beginning of love is such that the
lover wants the beloved for his own sake. This person is a lover of himself
through the intermediary of the beloved, but he does not know that he wants to
use her on the path of his own will. As the poet said:
I said, ‘You become an idol which is a homeland for the spirit.’
She said, ‘Speak not of the
soul if you are not a Shaman.’
I said, ‘How much you beat me with the sword of argument!’
She said, ‘You are still a
lover of yourself.’
(2)
When the perfection of love shines its smallest portion is that he wants
himself for her, and in pleasing her he gives his soul gleefully. Love is this,
all else is delirium and deficiency.
35
Love is a man-eater. It eats man and
leaves nothing. When it eats man, it is the master of the dominion (wilāyat) and the edict belongs to it. If beauty shines upon
perfection, love also eats the otherness of the beloved, but this happens so
much later.
36
(1) The beloved never became familiar with
the lover, and at that moment that he considers himself closer to her and her
closer to him she is farther because the kingdom is hers and ‘the king has no
friend.’ The reality of familiarity pertains to having the same level, and this
is impossible between the lover and the beloved, because the lover is all the
earth of baseness and the beloved is all the sky of greatness and grandeur. If
there is familiarity it would be by the edict of the breath and the moment, and
this would be borrowed.
I endured sorrow equal in weight to heaven and earth,
Neither I become satiated
nor loved other.
A gazelle, for example, may become accustomed to people.
You will not, though I did a
thousand tricks.
(2) When will the
magnificence of the beloved and the baseness of the lover come together? When
will the grace of the one sought and the need of the seeker come together? She
is this one’s cure and this one is her helpless one. The patient needs
medicine. Medicine has no need for the patient; for the patient dwindles from
not attaining medicine, whereas the medicine need not regard the patient. As
has been said:
What can the lover do who has no heart ?
What can the indigent one do
who has no provisions?
The nobility of your Beauty is not due to my bazaar.
What loss to the idol if it
has no idol worshipper?
37
The reality of love rides nothing but the
mount of the spirit. But the heart is the locus of its attributes and it itself
is glorious through the veils of its glory. What does anyone know of its
essence and attributes? Not a single one of its subtle points shows its face to
the eye of knowledge. For it is not possible that anything more than an explanation
or a sign be given from the surface of the heart’s tablet. But in the imaginal
world, in order to reveal its face, sometimes love may have a sign concretely
and sometimes it may not.
38
(1) Sometimes the sign is through the
tress, sometimes through the cheek, sometimes the mole and sometimes stature,
sometimes the eye and sometimes the eyebrow, sometimes a wink, sometimes the
giggle of the beloved and sometimes through rebuke.
(2) Each of these realities
has a sign from the quest of the lover’s spirit. That which has the sign of
love upon the eye of the beloved, its nourishment is from observation of the
beloved and is further from deficiencies, for it is the precious pearl of the
heart and spirit. Love which makes a sign with the eye of the beloved in the
world of imagination is an indication of the quest of the spirit and the heart
and is far from bodily deficiencies. And if it is with the eyebrow [that it
makes a sign] it is a quest from his spirit. But the vanguard of bewilderment
stands before that quest, because the eyebrow is apportioned to the eye.
(3) In this way, each one of
these signs on the path of the perspicacity of love makes clear a quest
pertaining to the spirit, the body, deficiency or fault; for love has a sign in
each of the interior curtains and these realities are its signs on the curtain
of imagination. Thus its sign makes clear the level of love.
39
(1) When the reality of love appears, the
lover becomes the nourishment for the beloved. The beloved does not become the
nourishment for the lover because the lover can be contained in the compass of
the beloved, but the beloved cannot be contained in the compass of the lover.
The lover can become one hair in the tress of the beloved, but the whole of the
lover cannot bear one hair of the beloved and can give it no refuge.
(2) The nourishment of the
moth that becomes the lover of fire is distant from illumination. The vanguard
of the illumination welcomes him and invites him, and he flies toward love with
the wings of his aspiration (himmat) in the air of
his quest. But he must have many wings in order to reach fire. When he reaches
fire he has no course. The course of fire is within him.
Nor does he have any nourishment, the fire has nourishment. And this is a great
secret. For one moment he becomes his own beloved. This is his perfection. And
all of his flying and circumambulating were for this one moment. When shall
this be? Before this we have explained that the reality of union is this. One
hour the attribute of ‘being fire’ welcomes him and soon sends him out through
the door of ‘being ash.’ There must be so much provision that he reaches love.
His being and attributes are themselves the provision of the path. ‘You have
wasted your life building the inward, where is annihilation in witnessing
oneness (tawḥīd)?’1
is this.
(3) Of all that the lover
can have there is nothing that can become the instrument of union. The beloved
can have the instrument of union. This is also a great secret, for union is the
level of the beloved and her right. It is separation which is the level of the
lover and his right. Thus the existence of the lover is the instrument of
separation and the existence of the beloved is the instrument of union.
Love itself, in its essence,
is far from these attachments and defects; for love has no attributes from
union and separation. These are the attributes of the lover and the beloved.
Thus union is the level of the glory and greatness of the beloved and
separation is the level of the baseness and poverty of the lover. Therefore,
the beloved can possess the instrument of union and the lover that of
separation and the existence of the lover is one of the provisions of
separation.
In your love my singleness is a crowd.
One whose existence is
a crowd and a provision of separation, from where will he obtain the provision
of union?
(4) The ground of union
becomes non-being and the ground of separation becomes being; so long as the
witness of annihilation associates, union is union. When he returns the reality
of separation cast its shadow and the possibility of union withdraws, for the
lover cannot possess the provision of union because that is the function of the
beloved.
A Story
It has been transmitted that one day
Sultan Maḥmūd2 was sitting in his court. A man came and had a plate of salt in his
hand. He came to the middle of the assembly of Maḥmūd’s court and cried out, ‘Who will buy
salt?’ Maḥmūd had never seen that and ordered that they arrest him. When he was
alone, he summoned him and said, ‘What insolence is this that you commit? And
what kind of place is Maḥmūd’s palace for crying out to sell salt?’
He
said: ‘O noble lad, our affair is with Ayāz,1 salt is but a
pretext.’
Maḥmūd said, ‘O beggar, who are you that you
can put your hand in a bowl with Maḥmūd? I who have eight hundred elephants, a worldwide kingdom and realm,
and you do not have a night’s worth of bread!’
He said, ‘Don’t speak so
long, for this that you own and possess is the provision of union, not the
provision of love. The provision of love is a roasted heart,2
and my heart is perfectly so–this is a condition for the affair. No Maḥmūd, rather my heart is
empty, therefore there is no place for eight hundred elephants in it.
Accounting and managing many realms is not the affair. I have an empty heart
burning with the love of Ayāz. O Maḥmūd do you know what the secret of this salt is? That in the pot of
your love must be the salt of disengaging and abasement, for you’re so
dominating. Know that verse of the highest assembly, ‘And we glorify in praise
of You and call You Holy.’3 He said to six hundred peacock
feathers, ‘You need the disengaging which is the condition of this affair, but
when that happens, you will not be what you are now. You do not have the
provision for that so as to separate yourselves.’
O Maḥmūd, all this that you
possess is the provision of union, and love has no attribute from union. When
the moment of union comes, Ayāz himself has the provision of union completely.
O Maḥmūd,
are these eight hundred elephants and the entire realm of China and India worth
anything without Ayāz, or can they stand in the place of one hair from his
tress?’
Maḥmūd said, ‘No.’
He said, ‘Is being with him
in the dung-room of a public bath-house or in a dark room like being in the
garden of Eden, and the state of perfect union?’
Maḥmūd said, ‘It is.’
He said, ‘Then all this that
you possess is not even the provision of union, for only the beloved can have
the provision of union, not the lover.’ This is perfect beauty, and the cheek,
the mole and the tress. And those are the signs of beauty.
(5) From here you know that
love has no attribute from union or from separation, and nothing is known to
the lover about the provision of union, nor can it be known. The provision of
union is the existence of the beloved and the provision of separation is the
existence of the lover, and love has no need for either. If the joy of the
moment assists, this existence becomes the sacrifice for that existence. This
is perfect union.
A perfect love and a beautiful heart-render,
The heart full of speech and
the tongue mute.
Where has there been a state rarer than this?
I thirst, and before me
flows pure water.
40
(1) As regards the reality of the affair,
the beloved gains no profit from the lover, nor loss. But as regards the manner
(sunnah) of love’s generosity, love binds the lover
to the beloved. Through the connection of love, the lover becomes the locus of
the beloved’s observation in every state.
(2) Here is where separation
through the choice of the beloved is more union than union through the choice
of the lover. Because in the beloved’s choosing separation, the lover becomes
the locus of observation for the heart of the beloved and choice and her
desire. And on the path of her lover’s choosing union, there is not any
observation from the beloved, and she has no concern for him. This is a great
level in gnosis. But no one can understand this perfectly. Thus the beloved’s
observation of the lover is a scale in measuring the degrees and attributes of
love, in perfection, increase and decrease.
41
(1) Whatever is glory, magnificence,
self-sufficiency and greatness in the share of love becomes the attributes of
the beloved, and whatever is baseness, weakness, wretchedness, poverty, need
and helplessness is the share of the lover. Thus the nourishment of love is the
attributes of the lover, for love is the master of the lover’s fortune–whatever
fortune may bring. And this changes according to the moment.
2) However, these attributes
of the beloved do not become manifest except through the manifestation of their
opposites in the lover–so long as the poverty of this is not, her
self-sufficiency does not appear. Likewise, all the attributes are suitable for
her because of this.
42
When it is like this the lover and beloved
are opposites. Thus they are not together except on condition of sacrifice and
annihilation. Regarding this it has been said:
When the green-beloved saw my face yellow,
She said, ‘No longer hope
for my union.
‘Because you have become our opposite in vision,
You have the colour of
autumn and we the colour of spring.’
43
(1) The beloved itself is the beloved in
every state, thus self-sufficiency is her attribute. And the lover is the lover
in every state, thus poverty is his attribute. The lover always needs the
beloved, thus poverty is always his attribute. And the beloved needs nothing,
for she always has herself. Therefore, self-sufficiency is her attribute.
Every night, out of sorrow for you, my tears are blood,
And from separation with
you, there is a nightly assault in my heart.
You are with yourself O Beloved, from that you are joyful.
You are never without
yourself, how do you know what night is like?
You always steal hearts, you are excused.
You have never experienced
sorrow, you are excused.
I have spent a thousand nights in blood without you.
You have never spent a night
without yourself, you are excused.
(2) And if this error
comes to you, that it may be that the lover is the master and the beloved is
the servant, such that in union she is next to the lover, that is a grave
error. For the reality of love puts the necklace of the sultanate on the neck
of the beloved and takes off the ring of servitude.
(3) The beloved can never be
a possession. This is why those who speak of poverty lose the heart and spirit
and put religion, the world and fortune in the middle.1 They do anything and
withdraw from everything. They also do not fear [for] their heads and put their
foot on the two worlds. But when the affair reaches the point of love, they
never put the beloved in the middle and are not able to do so. Because it is
only a possession which can be put in the middle, not the possessor. The
beloved is a possessor.
(4) The hand of freedom
never reaches the edge of love and loverness. Just as all bonds are released
there–I mean in the freedom of poverty–all openings are bound here–I mean in
the bondage of love.
(5) When these realities
become known, then perhaps the magnificence of love will appear so that the
lover loses his own profit (sūd) [in order] to
withdraw from deficiencies and is saved from profit and loss.
If it were possible for the lover to eat
nourishment from the beloved, it would only be in the compass of the heart. But
since loverness is being without a heart, when will this reality be? So where
will the heartless one eat? She steals his heart and she sends nourishment, but
he still has not eaten and she takes it back. We say nourishment is from the
beloved and this is far, far away. I do not want that nourishment which is from
imagining through words heard and beauty seen, for that is not union. That is
not on this page. Those who look at the sun are many and the world is
illuminated by its light. But in reality people have no nourishment from it. So
do not be in error.
45
(1) Love is such that oppression from the
beloved in the union of love becomes increase and kindling for the fire of
love; for the nourishment of love is from oppression. Thus love increases. So
long as he is in union it is of this attribute. But in separation the
oppression of the beloved would help and be the cause of consolation–so long as
he is in the door of choice and something from him is observing the affair.
(2) But when he becomes
completely and perfectly tame before love and the sultanate of love has taken
complete control, how will increase and decrease have a way there?1
I do not flee from the friend because of a hundred and one afflictions.
This is a condition for me
in love if I hold fast.
1. There are many printed
editions of the Sawāniḥ. The four most reliable editions
are: Sawāniḥ, ed. Aḥmad Mujāhid, in Majmūʿa-yi
āthār-i fārsī-yi Aḥmad Ghazzālī, pp. 89–173; Sawāniḥ, ed. Naṣrullāh Pourjavady (Tehran, 1359
Sh./1980); Sawāniḥ, in Ganjīna-yi ʿirfān, ed. Ḥāmid Rabbānī (Tehran, 1973); Sawāniḥ, ed. Helmut Ritter (Tehran, 1368
Sh./1989). The edition by Pourjavady is based upon that of Ritter and
supplemented by additional manuscripts which predate those upon which Ritter
relied. Though five editions were published between those of Ritter and
Pourjavady, none surpassed Ritter’s. The edition of Pourjavady can in some ways
be seen as a supplement to Ritter’s, as he admittedly builds upon Ritter’s
extant apparatus. Mujāhid’s edition has a critical apparatus adopted in part
from other editions. It is, however, nowhere near the quality of Ritter’s
apparatus. Rabbānī’s edition does not provide an apparatus, but in several
instances Rabbānī provides readings which make more sense than those of
Pourjavady or Ritter. For this translation I will therefore rely upon the
editions of Pourjavady, Ritter and Rabbānī. In re-rendering the Sawāniḥ into English, I am deeply indebted
to Naṣrullāh Pourjavady for his previous English translation; Sawāniḥ: Inspirations from the World
of Pure Spirits, The Oldest Sufi Treatise on Love (London, 1986).
2. This is a reference to the
famous Qurʾānic verse, ‘He loves them and they love Him’ (5:54). Aḥmad Ghazzālī sees this as an
expression of the beginning of all human love through a pact with the Divine.
He explains this love-pact by referring to the Qurʾānic story of man’s pre-temporal
covenant with God made while all of mankind was still in Adam’s loins. As the
Qurʾān
states: And when thy Lord took from the Children of Adam, from their loins,
their seed, and made them testify touching themselves, ‘Am I not your Lord?’
They said, ‘Yes, we testify’—lest You should say on the Day of Resurrection,
‘As for us, we were heedless of this’ (7:172).
The day of this covenant is known in the Persian Sufi
tradition as rūz-i alast (the day of ‘Am I not [your
Lord]’). It is understood by Aḥmad Ghazzālī and others as a covenant
fashioned in love and through love. When God said to man ‘Am I not your Lord’
this was His love for them. When man responded by saying ‘yes’ (balā) this was his love for God. From this perspective,
only through God’s making him beloved did man become a lover, and all of man’s
love and striving for God originates from God’s pre-temporal love for man.
Man’s love for God is thus the self-same love which God has for man. Although
man’s love finds expression in the temporal order, its origin is pre-temporal
and its goal is post-temporal.
1. This is a reference to the
famous night journey and ascension of the Prophet Muḥammad, wherein he is said to have
been ‘two-bows-length’ from God; ‘He was two bows-length or nearer. Then God
revealed to him what He revealed’ (53:9–10). For Ghazzālī, the two bows
represent the arc of spiritual descent from pre-temporality and the arc of
spiritual ascent to post-temporality. Together they comprise the entire circle
of existence. Pre-temporality is the point from which the arc of descent begins
and post-temporality is the point to which the arc of ascent returns. As one
descends into the corporeal world, one actualizes various modes of
manifestation, but in order for these to be integrated and unified one must
return upon the path of ascent.
2. To say that the path of
descent from pre-temporality and the path of ascent to post-temporality are the
spiritual wayfarer’s heart and moment is to say that one’s true nature is
determined by where one stands in the process of spiritual reintegration.
3. i.e. the pure human heart.
1. i.e. realizes the moment of
belovedness on the day of the pre-temporal covenant—rūz-i
alast. See note 1 above.
2. Rustam is a character in
Firdawsī’s Shāh-nāmah who was of such power and
stature that only his steed Rakhsh could carry him.
1. Qurʾān 55:26. Beauty is the means
whereby the lover witnesses the manifestation of Absolute Love in the delimited
form of the beloved. The beauty of each thing is called by Ghazzālī ‘the brand
of creation’. This beauty is the secret face which faces Absolute Love and by
virtue of which all things truly exist. For if they did not have a face turned
towards the absolute, there would be no way for them to derive their existence
from it.
2. A famous saying of Manṣūr Ḥallāj (d. 309/922).
3. A famous saying of Bāyazīd
Basṭāmī
(d. 261/875).
1. i.e. the discussion of
spiritual wayfaring is a discussion of these states, until one reaches union
which is beyond all spiritual states.
2. Fanāʾ (annihilation) and baqāʾ (subsistence) are considered by many
to be the final two stages of the spiritual path. As Sachiko Murata observes:
‘Annihilation designates the purification of the self and the elimination of
the constricting limitations of ignorance and forgetfulness; or the
transformation of blameworthy character traits into praiseworthy character
traits. It is usually paired with ‘subsistence’ (baqāʾ), which is the actualization
of the Divine Attributes in whose image the human being was created.’ Chinese Gleams of Sufi Light (Albany, 2000), p. 56.
1. The ‘world-revealing cup’ (jām-i jahān namā) is a legendary possession of the
pre-Islamic Persian king Jamshīd. It came to be used by Sufis as a symbol for
the heart of the gnostic-lover which, purified of ignorance and forgetfulness,
is able to behold all things as they truly are.
2. Qurʾān 6:76–8. This is a
reference to the story of Abraham who said of a star, then of the moon and then
of the sun ‘This is my Lord’, then denied each as it set until he affirmed pure
monotheism.
3. The degree of stability (tamkīn) is considered by many Sufis to be the highest
degree of spiritual realization. Here the lover has transcended the degree of
colouration (talwīn) of moving from state to state in
the lover-beloved duality and is now in the stability (tamkīn)
of love wherein nothing but pure love remains.
4. This paragraph refers to the
state beyond the first paragraph. The first is seeing the images of the beloved
on the surface of the ocean of love. The second is being completely immersed in
the ocean, beyond all forms and imaginations.
1. These verses are most likely
by Abu’l-Ḥasan al-Bustī (d. c. 485/1092).
They have circulated widely in Persian Sufi literature. Aḥmad Ghazzālī’s foremost
disciple, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī cites them twice in the Tamhīdāt, ed. ʿAfīf ʿUsayrān (Tehran, 1962), p. 119 and p.
249, and is the first to attribute them to Bustī; Rashīd al-Dīn Maybudī cites
them twice in Kashf al-asrār, ed. ʿAlī Aṣghar Ḥikmat (Tehran, 1381
Sh./2002), vol. 1, p. 114 and vol. 2, p. 249; they are also transmitted by ʿAbd ar-Raḥmān Jāmī in Nafaḥāt al-ʾuns, ed. Maḥmūd ʿĀbidī (Tehran, 1380 Sh./2001)
p. 413.
The point of the lā referred to in
the third verse is where the lām and alif are joined in the lā of the
first testimony of faith (shahādah)—lā ilāha illa’Llāh—No god, but God. Aḥmad Ghazzālī sees this lā as the word of ultimate negation (nafy)
in which attachment to everything save God is obliterated. The point of the lā is the very essence of negation, for were it not for
that point, the alif and lām
would not be joined. It is thus the archetype of spiritual fanāʾ (annihilation) beyond
separation and union. The black light is then an allusion to the station of baqāʾ (subsistence) in which one abides
with the Divine alone, beyond all the edicts of separation and union, expansion
and contraction, sorrow and happiness. But once in the black light of
subsistence, he is the master of the moment, for the edicts of colouration
cannot bear the effulgence of the black light. Regarding this experience no
discursive knowledge can be obtained, for it is beyond all distinctions and can
only be perceived or tasted in the trans-personal depth of one’s pre-temporal
being, i.e. in the heart.
2. Before Aḥmad Ghazzālī, Sufis had
termed the accomplished spiritual wayfarer as a ‘son of the moment (ibn al-waqt).’ He turns this diction on its head to say
that ‘the son of the moment’ is still subject to colouration (talwīn) but in spiritual stability (tamkīn)
he becomes ‘the master of the moment.’
3. i.e. to the beloved and
through the beloved—but in fact through and to love vis-à-vis the beloved.
4. This refers to the ‘but’ of
the first testimony of faith, ‘No god but God’—lā ilāha
illa’Llāh. This means that the spiritual wayfarer has reached a point
where he abandons all the hidden inner idols for the true worship of the One
God.
1. Qurʾān, 81:19.
2. Qurʾān, 5:57. See n. 1.
3. Bāyazīd Basṭāmī (d. 261/875). This is a
famous Persian saying, similar versions of which are attributed to Basṭāmī in Farīḍ ad-Dīn ʿAṭṭār’s Tadhkirat
al-awliyāʾ, ed. R. A. Nicholson, (London and Leiden, 1905–1907), p. 168
and p. 255, which was, however, written over one century after the Sawāniḥ. A similar Arabic saying is
attributed to Basṭāmī in Abū Nuʿaym Iṣfahānī’s Ḥilyat
al-awliyāʾ wa ṭabaqāt
al-aṣfiyāʾ, ed. Muṣṭafā ʿAbd al-Qādir ʿAṭāʾ (Beirut, 1997), vol. 10, p. 34: ‘At
the outset I erred in four things: I imagined that I remembered Him, that I
knew Him, that I loved Him and that I sought Him. When I reached the end, I saw
that His remembrance preceded my remembrance, that His knowledge preceded my
knowledge, that His love was before my love, and that His seeking me came first
so that I would seek Him.’
1. The dust of her quarter is
here the knowledge of the Beloved which pertains to the realm of Divine Oneness
(wāḥidiyyah) but not yet to the realm of
unseen of the unseen or ghayb al-ghuyūb.
2. The fullness of love which
is realized in ‘union’ is beyond and discursive knowledge, it can only be
‘tasted.’ Aḥmad Ghazzālī maintains that even the Prophet Muḥammad was incapable of
‘knowledge’ of the Divine Essence or the unseen of the unseen: Whenever the
Messenger of God was carried to the ocean of knowledge it would flow forth, but
when he was cast into the ocean of gnosis he said, ‘I do not realize, I only
worship (lā adrī innamā aʿbudu).’ Aḥmad Ghazzālī, Majālis-i Aḥmad Ghazzālī, ed. with Persian
translation by Aḥmad Mujāhid (Tehran, 1385 Sh./1998), p. 61.
1. This is an allusion to the
fact that the full reality of love is always deep within the lover—it is in
fact his very reality—though he must travel through the veils of loverness and
belovedness to discover it.
1. A famous Arabic saying
attributed to Abū Bakr al-Ṣiddīq (d. 13/634), a close companion
of the Prophet Muḥammad and the first Sunni caliph.
1. Qurʾān 7:172. See n. 1.
2. Qurʾān 12:30. This is a reference
to the famous story of Joseph and Zulaykhā, which is often used as a symbol of
the transformative power of true love. Zulaykhā had desired Joseph, but Joseph
chose chastity over fornication. She thus plotted to have him imprisoned. Later
Sufi commentators expand upon this to say that after Joseph was released
Zulaykhā came to love him with a pure love though this dimension of the story
is not found in the Qurʾān.
1. This is a famous saying of
Manṣūr
Ḥallāj,
al-Risālah al-qushayriyyah fī ʿilm al-taṣawwuf, ed. Maʿrūf Zarīq and ʿAlī ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd Balṭājī (Beirut, 1413/1993), p.
165.
2. Sultan Maḥmūd of Ghazna
(389/999–421/1030).
1. Ayāz b. Uymāq Abū Najm (d.
449/1059) is known as the perfect loyal servant and was therefore beloved to
Sultan Maḥmūd. Here he is used as a symbol of the beloved just as Laylā
was used as a symbol in the story of Laylā and Majnūn. Both of these love
legends have been used by Sufis as models of the pure and chaste love for the
beloved. It is important that for the Sufis the beloved can be either male or
female, what matters is the essence of love which is beyond all duality.
2. Here Ghazzālī is playing on
the term which he has previously used for maturity (pukhtagī)
which literally means ‘cooked’. ‘A broiled heart’ would thus be even more
immersed in love.
3. Qurʾān 2:30.
1. i.e., risk everything.
1. i.e. there is no increase
and decrease when one has gone beyond the beloved into love itself.
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī
ʿAbd Allāh ibn Muḥammad ibn ʿAlī Miyānijī Hamadānī, also referred to as Abu’l-Maʿālī, and known primarily
as ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
Hamadānī, was one of the most eminent masters of philosophical Sufism. He was born
in 492/1098 in the city of Hamadān in the western part of Persia. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s intellectual acumen
and esoteric assertions angered some of the exoteric jurists to the extent that
they declared him an apostate and called for his execution. He was hanged in
Hamadān in the year 525/1130.
There is very little
information about the early education of this ill-fated Sufi master. We know
that he was highly influenced by both Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī and his younger brother Aḥmad Ghazzālī, with whom ʿAyn al-Quḍāt corresponded and whom
he embraced as his Sufi teacher. While Aḥmad Ghazzālī remains the most influential
figure in the life of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt, there were others such as Shaykh Barakat Hamadānī. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt may have attended
Hamadānī’s Sufi sessions for nearly seven years, during which time he studied
the esoteric meaning of the Qurʾān. Among his teachers was Abū ʿAbd Allāh Ḥamūyah ibn ʿUthmān, a Sufi master whom ʿAyn al-Quḍāt ranked with the Ghazzālī brothers. Finally, it is said that he had
benefited from meeting both ʿUmār Khayyām, the erudite scientist and philosopher, and Bābā Ṭāhir ʿUryān, the Sufi poet.
Neither of these affiliations, however, is certain.
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt belongs to a Sufi school of thought often referred to as ‘madhhab-i ʿishq’ (path of love), a
tradition with which many eminent figures such as Aḥmad Ghazzālī, ʿAṭṭār, Rūmī, and Ḥāfiẓ have also been affiliated. What distinguishes ʿAyn al-Quḍāt from so many other
Sufi masters belonging to this school is the centrality of love combined with
philosophical interest in all aspects of his teachings. Omid Safi, the
translator of this chapter, says ‘ʿAyn al-Quḍāt and Aḥmad Ghazzālī are bards of this new madhhab-i ʿishq.’
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s epistemology, which is based fundamentally on the Qurʾān and the sayings of the
Prophet Muḥammad, makes full use of the notion of love. For ʿAyn al-Quḍāt, mystical knowledge
comes directly from the Divine Presence that permeates
the Qurʾān and
the very being of the Prophet Muḥammad. For him there are men of an exoteric nature whom he classifies
as ‘appearance-seers’ and those of an esoteric nature, whom he calls
‘inward-seekers’. The ‘appearance-seers’ lack the faculty of spiritual perception
(baṣīrat) which transcends
discursive thought. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s spiritual hermeneutics (taʾwīl) argue that the reality of the Prophet Muḥammad can only be fully understood through
the faculty of spiritual perception. The concept of Muḥammad as light, and as
the very first principle of creation is a well-known Sufi and Shiʿi understanding of the
inner reality of the Prophet Muḥammad. In his Tamhīdāt, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt offers an explanation
of Muḥammad’s
cyclical journey which starts with his departure from God into creation and
ends with his return to God.
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt extends his esoteric interpretations to certain theological problems
such as the uncreated nature of the Qurʾān. What differentiates his version from that of many Muslim
theologians who had previously talked about the Qurʾān as uncreated Divine Speech is that he
discusses this doctrine in relation to the layers of meaning in the Qurʾān.
In this chapter, we have
included a section of the Tamhīdāt (Dispositions) and
Nāma-hā (Letters) of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt. While most of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s works are no longer extant, his magnum opus, Tamhīdāt, which is a major text of Islamic
mystical philosophy, and which can be regarded as a forerunner to Ibn ʿArabī, is extant. The Tamhīdāt is an example of a beautiful work of philosophical
Sufism in Persian prose, interspersed now and then by lines of poetry. In his Tamhīdāt, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt continues the central themes his master Aḥmad Ghazzālī had discussed on ‘radical love’
in his Persian work the Sawāniḥ. The two texts, Tamhīdāt and Sawāniḥ, should therefore be
treated as a complementary set of gnostic works. Tamhīdāt,
one may argue, is an extensive commentary on the Sawāniḥ of Hamadānī’s spiritual
guide, and its literary style is similar to that of Saʿdī’s Gulistān.
ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
frequently interpolates verses from the Qur’ān and traditions of the Prophet Muḥammad often followed by
brief Arabic passages.
The Tamhīdāt
is made up of ten chapters with the final chapter, the longest of the book,
consisting of one hundred pages. The chapters are:
1.The Difference between acquired knowledge and
knowledge obtained directly from the Divine Presence.
2.Conditions
incumbent upon one who is a seeker on the path of God.
3.Humanity
has been created in three primordial forms.
4.Know
thyself so that you may know God.
5.Exposition
of the five pillars of Islam.
6.Reality
and spiritual states of radical love.
7.Reality
of the spirit and the heart.
8.Secrets
of the Qurʾān and the wisdom behind the creation of the human being.
9. Elucidation of the reality of faith and infidelity.
10.The
reality and root of heaven and earth are to be found in the light of Muḥammad and Satan (Iblīs).
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s emphasis on rejecting the idols of intellectual convention allows
him a genuine dialogue with philosophers, jurists, theologians, and even Sufis
belonging to other schools of thought. The following passage appearing in the
ninth chapter of the Tamhīdāt indicates how ʿAyn al-Quḍāt establishes such a
dialogue, ‘O friend, if you saw what the Christians see in Jesus, you too would
become Christian. If you saw what the Jews see in Moses, you too would become a
Jew. Indeed, if you saw in idols what the idol-worshippers see, you too would
become an idol-worshipper.’1
Tamhīdāt remains a major text of philosophical Sufism in Persian, one in which
the notion of a love-based approach to the human-Divine relationship and
radical love constitute the central theme. From a historical perspective, Tamhīdāt also provides us with detailed information about
Sufis whose names and sayings would not have been otherwise known to us.
In the first part of this
chapter we have included a extract from Tamhīdāt in
which ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
opens with a discussion of the differences between acquired knowledge and
Divine knowledge and goes on to explain the different types of knowledge and
the role of a spiritual teacher in leading the novice to the right one. This
section ends with two short remarks. In the first, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt tells us how he was ‘saved from falling’
by studying the works of Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī and in the second he ironically supports Ibn Sīnā’s views
on the eternity of the world against Ghazzālī’s creation ex-nihilo.
The distinctions between two epistemic modes of cognition, acquired knowledge
and knowledge by presence, are then discussed. The Sufis saw knowledge from on
high (ʿilm ladunī) as the knowledge that is
bestowed by God. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt advocates a certain type of philosophy and theology whereby
knowledge is a fluid as opposed to a crystallized entity, remaining in a
continuous state of flux with its quality perpetually shifting. He offers a
number of interesting narrative techniques to allude to the dynamic quality of
knowledge and the undoing of rigid categories. In offering classifications of
knowledge, he often changes them to allow room for other types of knowledge.
ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s Letters, of which a short portion
appears in the second part of this chapter, offers an esoteric interpretation of some Qurʾānic verses and the role
of the Prophet Muḥammad as the ultimate spiritual guide.
M. Aminrazavi
1. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt, Tamhīdāt
(Tehran, 1994), p. 285.
Tamhīdāt
Translated for this volume by Omid Safi
from ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
Hamadānī, Tamhīdāt, ed. ʿAfīf ʿUṣayrān (Tehran, 1373 Sh./1994), pp. 1–19.
In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most
Merciful
We seek aid from Him. Praise
be to God, the Lord of all the Worlds [1:2]. The
Afterlife is (best) for those are in awe of God [7:128] 1 [Let there be] no hostility except to those who
oppress.2 Blessing and Peace upon the best of His creation Muḥammad, and upon the
entirety of his pure and good family, and upon his companions, the pleasure of
God Almighty upon them.
A group of friends requested
that some words be collected for their sake, in order to benefit the world.
Their plea was granted. This treatise, Essence of Spiritual
Realities in Unveiling the Subtleties, was completed in ten tamhīds3 so that the readers might derive
benefit from it.
The Difference between Acquired Knowledge
and Divine Knowledge4
Know this: In addressing Muṣṭafā [Prophet Muḥammad], Peace and
Blessing of God upon him, regarding those who see only the external appearances
and not the inner meanings, and those who seek only the outward manifestations
and neglect the inward realities, the Qurʾān states: And you see
them looking at you, but they do not perceive [7:198].
O Precious one, I say this:
Have you not read this verse in the Qurʾān: Indeed there has come to you from God a Light
and a clear Book? [5.15] Have you not heard of
it? Muḥammad
is called light! The Qurʾān, which is the Word of God, is also called
light, ‘follow the light which has
been sent down with him’ [7:157].
When you look at the Qurʾān, you only see black
letters on a white page. Know that the paper and the pen and the lines are not
light. Then which is that ‘Qurʾān, the uncreated Speech
of God’?1
People saw from Muḥammad only an appearance,
a body, and a person. God manifested Muḥammad to the onlookers as a human in the creature condition, as in ‘And Say: Verily I am a human being like you, except that an
inspiration has come to me.’ [41:18] Therefore, in this station of
understanding: They said: ‘what sort of a messenger is this,
who eats food, and walks through the marketplace?’ [25:7].
But in reality, God
manifested Muḥammad to the people of insight and spiritual reality, who saw his
reality with heart and soul.
Some of them said: ‘O God,
Place us among the community of Muḥammad.’
Some of them said: ‘O God,
do not withhold from us the companionship of Muḥammad.’ Another group said: ‘O God, sustain
us through the intercession of Muḥammad.’
If in this ecstasy, and in
this station of sainthood, they called Muḥammad human or consider him merely human,
they would become infidels. Consider this: And they say:
‘Shall a mere human guide us?’, so they committed infidelity [64:6].
This continued until Muḥammad elucidated the matter by saying: ‘I am not like any of you’.
The reality of the Qurʾān, which is a sacred
attribute of God2 is conjoined and attached to the hearts of the prophets and people of
sanctity. This group lives through that reality. That reality of the Qurʾān is not in the book,
yet you seek it in the book. ‘What is between the two covers is the Word of
God’. But the seekers of the Qurʾān have been shown in the book that: ‘The Qurʾān has an external level of meaning, and an
internal one. The internal one itself has interior levels, up to seven.’ He
said: ‘Every verse from the Qurʾān has an outward, and after every outward there is an inward up to
seven inward levels.’
I do realize that some have
comprehended the outward exposition, but who is it that knows the inward
expositions? Who has seen it? And in another place he said: ‘The Qurʾān was sent in seven
types, each one unequivocal and appropriate.’ When the bride of the beauty of
Qurʾān
manifests herself to the people of Qurʾān, they see through seven forms, each form with complete clarity.
It is no doubt from this
understanding that he said: ‘The people of the Qurʾān are the people of God and His elite’.
That when the reader arrives at the book, ‘And with him is
the Mother of the Book’ [13:91], he has arrived at the inner
meanings of the Qurʾān. The beauty of the light of the Qurʾān will so efface him from himself that
neither the Qurʾān remains nor the reader, nor the book: all will be read, and all will
be written.
But the real intention is
that you will know this: there is another reality other than this creaturely
aspect in humanity. Other than this outward form, there is another inward,
spiritual meaning. Other than this body, there is another soul and another
kernel. Other than this world, there is another world.
For us, there is another world other than this
There is a place apart from
heaven and hell.
The noble one lives through
another soul
and that pure jewel is from
another mine.
The capital of love is
revelry and roguishness:
Frequent recitation of Qurʾān and asceticism
are from another world.
They tell us: this is
another sign
Since other than this
language, there is another language!
The verse There is none
of us, except that he has a place appointed [37:164] has elucidated and expounded on all
of this. And God has graced some of you above
others in sustenance [16:71] has provided the pretext for this. Those messengers We have graced some above others [2:253] has made it
evident. And above every one with knowledge there
is another with [more] knowledge [12:762] has made it manifest.
What is all this? And what does it mean? No one knows its esoteric interpretation except for God and those who
are firmly rooted in knowledge. And what is this esoteric interpretation that only
God and those firmly grounded in knowledge know?3 Recite: Here are the
self-evident signs, in the hearts of those bestowed with knowledge [29:49].
Where are they to seek this heart? And as for he whom God has opened his heart to Islam, he is illuminated
through a light from his Lord. So woe be to those whose hearts are hardened [39:22].
Where are they to search for such a light? Verily in this is a remembrance for anyone who has a heart [50:37].
Those who are lost in the
way have lost sight of this, whereas those who have achieved
guidance see this as evident. It was for this reason that Muṣṭafa [Prophet Muḥammad], peace and
blessings of God be upon him, said: ‘Verily there is a concealed body of
knowledge. None of the scholars know of it except those who know by God; so
when they speak of it, no one renounces them except those who are heedless of
God.’
Knowledge comes in three
types: one type is the knowledge for the descendants of Adam, the second type
is the knowledge for the angels, and a third type is the knowledge for the
created beings and creatures. But the fourth is the knowledge that belongs to
God Almighty, The Sacred. This is what is called a Secret and Treasured knowledge.
So no one knows this secret knowledge other than the one who knows God. Have
you ever known who is the one who knows God? I don’t know if you have.
As the Prophet said, ‘Seek
knowledge even if it is in China’. So you ought to go to China and beyond
China, then you will find the scholars of my community who are like the
prophets of the children of Israel.
Which path should one
follow? The path of action. I am not speaking of the action of the body, but of
the action of the heart. It is known that he said: ‘On one who acts on his
knowledge, God will bestow a new knowledge’.1
Take heed: ‘Speak to people
at the level of their intellect’ is perfect advice. So in these pages some
words will be said that are not intended for you, O precious one, but rather
for other lovers of God who are not present at the time of writing. They too
have a share, so do not think that all of this is intended for you.
Whoever hears something that
is not in his station or appropriate to the level of his comprehension will not
comprehend it. O precious one, do you ponder that the Noble Qurʾān is addressing one
group? Or a hundred clans? Or a hundred thousand? Rather, every verse and every
word is simultaneously addressing one individual while it is intended for
another person—even another world!
And that which was written
in these pages, every line is conveys a different station and state. Every word
has a different purpose. Every word has a different audience. Each seeker is
addressed differently. That which is said to Zayd is not that which is said to ʿAmru. Bakr, for example,
does not see what Khālid does.
O precious one, you ponder
that Abū Jahl heard praise be to God, the Lord of all worlds?
[1:2] Or that the verse was intended for him? All that he hears from the Qurʾān is Say:
O you infidels [109:1] this alone was his share. However, praise be to God [1:2] was the share of Muḥammad, and Muḥammad heard it.
If you do not believe this,
listen to ʿUmar Khaṭṭāb, who said: ‘Muṣṭafa, peace and blessings of God be upon him, would say words to Abū
Bakr that sometimes I would hear and I would understand. Sometimes I would hear
them, and I would not understand. Sometimes I would neither hear nor understand
them.’
What do you say about this?
Did Muḥammad
withhold something from ʿUmar? No, God forbid! Not at all! Muḥammad did not withhold
from ʿUmar.
However, a young child who is suckling is kept away from roast lamb and sweets,
since his stomach cannot bear them. Then, when he reaches the age of maturity,
he can eat them, since those food and drinks will not harm him.
ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbbās says: ‘If I were to explain the verse Verily
your Lord is God, who created the Heavens and the Earth in seven days and then
established Himself upon the Throne, [10:3] the Companions of Prophet,
may God be pleased with them, would cast stones at me.’ Abū Hurayrah, may God
be pleased with him, said: ‘If I were to expound upon this verse God is He who created seven Heavens and on Earth a similar number.
Through the midst of them His Command descends [65:12] people would call
me an infidel.’
ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbbās says: One night I stayed awake till the daybreak with ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib may God honour his
countenance. He was expounding on the Bā of Bism-i Allāh, I saw my own self as a jar before an immense
ocean. How much can you get from an ocean? Until you reside in the ocean,
whatever you find has a measure and a limit. How can a sailor limit and
describe the ocean? What can he get from it? ... But what does the land creature
know of the ocean? Mischief has appeared on land and sea
[30.41]. Whatever has been learned through people is of land, and whatever is
learned through God The Gracious who has taught the Qurʾān [55.1] is of ocean and oceanic. The ocean has no end: and they grasp nothing of His knowledge [2:255].
O precious one, what do you
apprehend? A small mention of the Prophetic tradition The
Believer is the mirror of the believer is apropos here. Whoever does not
know something and wants to know it has two options: One is to refer to his own
heart in meditation and contemplation. Then, through his heart, he will attain
to his own self. Muṣṭafā [Prophet Muḥammad], peace and blessings of God be upon him, said:
Consult
your heart [for a verdict], even if a fool is delivering that opinion. He said whatever comes up, its verification has to be legislated
through the sincerity of the heart.
If the heart grants an
opinion (fatwā), it is the command of God: do it! If
it does not give an opinion, leave the whole endeavour and adopt avoidance of
the task since The angel has a little influence and Satan
has a little. Whatever opinion the heart issues is from God, and
whatever it rejects is from Satan. There is a portion of these influences in
everybody, from the people of belief and Islam.
Our affairs are difficult
since our jurist is the nafs al-ammārah, the ego-self
which commands to evil: Verily the ego-self commands to evil
[12:53]. A person who refers matters to his heart lives in awe of God, and is
felicitous. Whoever judges matters according to his ego-self is wretched, and
in loss.
[There is also a second way
of obtaining spiritual answers.] If a person does not have this spiritual skill
and aptitude to know through the mediation of his own heart,
let him seek the heart of another who has this skill: Ask
the people of Divine Remembrance if you do not know [21:16], so that
another person’s heart will become your mirror.
O friend, there are two
types of heart. One type is facing God’s Pen, and it is inscribed upon, as in God has inscribed faith upon their hearts [12:53]. God’s
Right Hand is doing the writing. When he refers to his own heart something that
he does not know, he will know for this reason that God inscribes the answer
upon his heart. Then he will know.
The second type of heart is
still immature, and a raw one cannot face God’s pen. When he asks what he does
not know from one whose heart is a mirror and a tablet before the Divine Pen,
he will know. He will then realize what it is to see God in the mirror of a
spiritual guide’s soul. A spiritual guide sees himself in the mirror of the
disciple’s soul, whereas a disciple sees God in the spiritual guide’s soul.
Here is an analogy of
everything that I have said: a group of patients arise and go to a physician,
seeking their cure. The physician gives different prescriptions to them for the
sake of ameliorating their ailments. If someone said that this difference in
prescriptions is due to the physician’s ignorance, he has spoken incorrectly.
The ignorant one is the one who said the above, since the difference in the
prescription is due to the difference in the causes of the ailments. There are
multiple causes, and to prescribe as if all causes are the same is a severe
ignorance and error. Those who know what is being said know.
Now do you think that the
cause of the ailments confronting religion and Islam is [so simple as to be]
homogenous? Islam is established upon five pillars
has given specific prescriptions: these five-fold prescriptions are the cure
and medicine of all believers. However, the interior affair and the heart’s
path have easy cure.
Therefore every initiate
needs a spiritual guide who will be a skilled physician of the heart to cure
the disciple, and to order a different cure for each different malady. Those
who have abandoned the cure and the [wisdom of the] physician, it is as well
that they immerse themselves in the ailment, since and if
God had found in them any good, He would have indeed made them hear
[8:23].
Therefore when the skilled
physician comes across one who has set out on the spiritual path, joining with
the spiritual teachers, may God sanctify their spirits, becomes an obligation
upon the seeker. Based on this, it is said: ‘Who does not have a spiritual
teacher, does not have a religion’.
The spiritual teacher also
has an obligation: accepting the vicegerency (khilāfah),
and training the disciples is the obligation of the path. If you want a more
complete description, hear it from God Almighty who said He
is the One who put for you vicegerents on Earth, and raised some of you degrees
above others [6:165]. And in another place He has elucidated the meaning
of inward vicegerency: He will surely put them as
vicegerents on Earth, as He put others before them [24:55].
cannot be conveyed to
another.
One cannot shun the
condition of one’s own heart
One cannot turn the realm of
Law upside down.
A human being cannot leave
his own self
One cannot exchange glances
with those who are veiled in
the faith.
But one cannot wander unto
His alley
with one’s own self.
Take heed: The
condition of creatureliness is like a lock on the hearts, and the shackle of
ignorance is on the thoughts. This is the meaning of And do
they not contemplate upon the Qurʾān, or are their hearts
locked up? [47:24]. When the illumination1
of the victory and help that comes from God Almighty appears, as in When comes the help of God and the Victory [110:1], this
lock is removed from the heart. We shall show them our signs
in the farthest horizons and within their own souls [41:53] becomes
manifest, and the plant of God has planted for you on Earth
is harvested. He emerges out of his own selfhood, and sees the Angelic realm
and Dominion. He becomes the Dominion and the lord of Dominion. Due to And thus we showed the power of the heavens and Earth to Abraham
[6:75], he emerges out of his own selfhood.
Jesus, peace be upon him,
thus reported of this occurrence:2 ‘Whoever is not born again will not
reach the Kingdom of Heaven’. That is, whoever comes from the realm of the
mother’s womb, will see this earthly world; and whoever comes out of his own
self will see that heavenly world. This is the spiritual meaning of ‘Their
bodies are in the world, and their hearts are in the hereafter’. The mirror of he knows the secret in the Heavens and on Earth becomes the
book of his moment. He who knows his own self will
manifest itself to him, and so knows his Lord tells
the tale of his spiritual moment. He will have surpassed the
day the Earth changes and arrives at to other than
Earth [14:48]. He sees I saw my Lord with my heart
and will taste I spend a night with my Lord, he feeds me and
gives drink. He will hear He conveyed the inspiration
to His servant that which he conveyed [53:10].
O precious one, if you want
the beauty of these secrets to become manifest unto you, cease from
custom-worship (ʿādat-parastī) since
custom-worshipping is idol-worship. Don’t you see what the slander of this
people does: We found our fathers following a certain
religion, and we will certainly follow in their footsteps [43:23].
Forget
whatever you have heard from creatures! The worst instrument
of a man is his allegation. Ignore everything you have heard, since The slanderer does not enter paradise. And whatever he
shows you treat as if unseen, since spy not on each other
[49:12]. Explore any difficult points you encounter only through the language
of the heart, and be patient until you arrive at and if they
had been patient until you could come out to them, it would be best for them
[49:5]. Accept the advice of Khiḍr, ask me no questions about anything until I myself
speak to you concerning it [18:70].
When the
moment comes, God will manifest Himself: Soon will I show you my signs, then
you will not ask Me to hasten! [21:37]. And ask for
Him to come quickly since God will perchance bring about
thereafter some new situation [65:1]. If you go, you will get there, and
you will see. You will never get there unless you go. Have
they not travelled on the Earth and seen? [40:82]. Is God’s Earth not
expansive? Then travel about therein [4:97] is a command to journey and travel.
If you go, you will see the wonders of the world in every abode: whoever travels for the sake of Allah will find on Earth many a
spacious refuge [4:100]. In every abode you will be given advice, as in: and give advice since the advice benefits the believers
[51:55].
You only know these verses
as analogies: The analogy of the Garden which is promised to
the God-fearing [13:35]. They will deliver you to a place where
obstacles and mountains will be like coloured wool: And the
mountains shall be like carded wool [101:5]. They will manifest to you verily Gog and Magog spread mischief on Earth. [18:94]. Do
you know which attributes these correspond to in the body of the human being?
So know that the Dajjāl is the condition of the nafs
al-ammārah. The most inimical of your adversaries is
your ego-self which is your inside.
Then there is a kind of
attraction, coming from God, which is equivalent to the acts [of worship] of
humanity and Jinn will emerge and will cause you to die and make you annihilated, as in Whoever desires to look upon the dead walking on Earth, let him look at
Ibn Abī Quḥāfah.
Then you become alive: or he who was dead, and we
then brought him to life [6:122]. When you become subsistent, you will be
told what to do and what must be done: And those
who struggle in Us We shall guide them to Our paths [29:69]. Then they will put you in the bush
of love, where you will be told: and struggle in
God as is worthy of His struggle [22:78] until the fire makes you burnt. When you are
burnt then you become light, as in light upon
light, God guides to his light whomever he wills [24:35]. Your light is all false, and His
light is Truth and Reality. When His Light hastens forth, your light is
vanished and becomes null. All of you will be His Light: Thus does God (by parables) show forth Truth and falseness;1
verily We cast truth upon falseness, and truth shall triumph over falseness.
And if you cannot recognize
any of God’s signs, then and he is illuminated through a
light from his Lord [39:22] says that the affair is such and such. If you
desire the affair, keep to the affair; if not, you will be occupied with own
affairs. Have you not heard of Dhū’l-Nūn Miṣrī who said: ‘If you are
able to perform sacrifices of the Spirit, then do it; and if not then do not
mock the Sufi path’. If you have the intention that with the first step, you
sacrifice your life, then make preparations for it. And if you cannot, then
what benefit will the mockery of Sufis and Sufi allegory and formalities bring
to you? Khwājah Abū ʿAlī Sarakhsī has stated these lines in discussion, and it is
appropriate to state them [to elucidate] the meaning of the statement of
Dhu’l-Nūn:
O my soul, enter into this affair with me if you are a friend
If not, go in peace that you
are just starting.
If you are not my
fellow-traveller on this path,
then leave, go on your own
path!
Wellness for you, and I will
hang my head in shame
Trust me to him in the abode
of the intoxicated ones.
Do not give me unto the
sorrow of this realm
I need some wine for
intoxication
I am so fed up with this
cleverness and consciousness!
I told you that
although you are addressed, another is intended to hear this discourse and
benefit from it. One who is absent now will grasp this. Have you not heard from
that saint who said: ‘For thirty years I have been having discourse with God
the Exalted, and people think that I am speaking with them!’ O precious one,
forgive!
What does the idle-talker
judge from Hamadān [ʿAyn al-Quḍāt], have to do with these discourses of secrets? The speaker doesn’t
even know what he is saying! What can the listener apprehend of what he is
hearing!
Over an extended period of
time, I wrote many letters to Qāḍī Imam Saʿd al-Dīn Baghdādī and Khwājah Imam ʿIzz al-Dīn and Imam Ḍiyāʾ al-Dīn and Khwājah Kāmil
al-Dawlat wa’l-Dīn that came to many volumes. As of this very hour, it has been
a long time since I have had an intention to write, and the writing had
dwindled and was ended. That intention which I had had at past times I did not
have now. Since for a while the heart of this enamoured soul used to listen to
the tongue, since the tongue was the speaker and the heart the listener. At
that time I had the intention and resolution to write, but now it has been some
time that my tongue listens to my heart. Now the heart is speaker and the
tongue the listener. And for some time, this wretched soul has had some awesome
moments and spiritual states.
But our Master [Muḥammad]—peace and
blessings of God be upon him—in every instant and every moment had both of the
spiritual states that have been spoken of. And he does not
speak of his own desires, verily it is no less than an inspiration sent down to
him [53:3–4] describes this spiritual meaning.
When
he wanted his tongue to listen to the heart, he would say: ‘Soothe our hearts O
Bilāl’; Give us an hour from the selfness of ourselves with reality. And when
he wanted to make his heart to be the listener of his tongue, he would say:
‘Speak to me, O little red-faced one [an affectionate diminutive referring to ʿĀʾishah]’, O ʿĀʾishah give me an hour
from reality with yourself, and bring me with yourself to benefit those of the
worlds. Thus he indicates: I was sent to perfect the most
noble of behaviours.
This has passed. The desired
meaning was that the exalted precious one, you, had posed some questions to me.
To answer them I took a commandment to my own essence and reality. My reality
and essence took the commandment to my heart. My heart took the commandment to
the soul of Muṣṭafā, Muḥammad, Peace be upon him. The spirit of Muṣṭafā, Muḥammad, received a commandment from God the
Exalted. [God provided the answer.] My heart received a commandment from the
soul of Muṣṭafā, peace be upon him. My reality received a commandment from my
heart. My tongue received a reality from my essence and reality.
So whatever you read and
hear in the writings and dictations of this wretched soul, you have not heard
from my tongue, but from my heart; nay, even from the spirit of Muṣṭafā you have heard. And
whatever you have heard from the spirit of Muṣṭafā, peace be upon him, you have heard from
God, since he does not speak of his own desires, verily it
is no less than an inspiration sent down to him [53:3–4].
In other words, whoever obeys the Messenger has obeyed God [4:80]. Of the
same [spiritual] meaning is whoever makes an allegiance with
you has made an allegiance with God, the Hand of God is on top of their hands
[48:10]. The source of all this is and they ask you about
the Spirit. Say the Spirit is on the command of my Lord [17:85]. O
precious one, verily in their stories are instructions for
those possessed of understanding [12:111] has given a permission and an
audacity to speak and to manifest the encounter of the Spiritual teachers with
the disciples: And all the stories that we relate to you from
the messengers we do so to validate your heart [11:120]. He said: ‘We
recite unto you the stories of prophets and messengers and what we seek from
this is the tranquillity and ease of your heart’.
Since the spiritual state
came as I had said, I too will speak as it comes: From that which they give to
me I put the essence of it on the table-cloth of writing, but one cannot
oversee its organization. But the travelling wayfarer, even though he is
changeable and keeps changing, will at some point stop and settle down.
Speaking will become a veil on his path, but whether he speaks or not, what
danger there is! Still, he cannot bring the organization, the prose, or the
expression into a more beautiful form. This is the portion of the elite:
silence. ‘Whoever knows God, his tongue becomes weary’ tells the same spiritual
meaning. This discourse is not the same thing as realization and Wisdom. But
the elite of the elite have arrived at the reality of their own being, and God
will not abandon them to themselves apart from Him. And if He does let them be
to themselves for some time, it is limited. In any case he will not stay in a
place long enough to describe his own spiritual states.
He has an immense spiritual
station! If he comes upon a commandment from God, he’ll give a discourse to the
spiritual folk for the sake of guidance and serving as a model of emulation by
the disciples. However, he will not be able to oversee the organization of this
discourse.
But the root of the
discourse is very strong and accurate; but not everyone will understand. That
is because it is cloaked in an expression whose comprehension is not in
everyone’s eye. In this station is ‘He who knows God his tongue is extended.’
When I see myself absent, that which I say is involuntary; if at times He gives
me the choice, He Himself has written it: and God has full
control over his affair, that is, the affair of his servants: He does what He wills and He orders what He desires [14:22]
And God is the guide.
1. I translate the term taqwā not merely as ‘piety’, but more as a type of
God-consciousness rooted in the experience of mysterium
tremendum of God, a term we borrow from Rudolph Otto.
2. In Qurʾānic discourse, the term ẓālim has the connotation of those
who have committed a double tyranny: oppression of others, and oppression of
their own true selves. It is important to point out that etymologically the
term is related to that for darkness (ẓulamāt). Those who oppress others
and themselves are in darkness, as it were, whereas those who live in
God-consciousness are brought into the light (nūr).
3. In a characteristic
hermeneutic move, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt plays with etymological meaning in
order to move from the external to the inner meanings and towards the very soul
of the spiritual seeker. The word ‘tamhīdāt’ comes
from the root (ma ha da), which means to arrange,
prepare, lay out in an even fashion. Therefore one possible meaning is an easy
to follow outline of spiritual life which has been laid out by God, and the
second meaning is the preparation of the soul of the spiritual seeker.
4 In many Sufi interpretations, ʿilm-i
ladunī,
literally ‘knowledge from Us’ [i.e. from God], is taken to mean Divinely
bestowed knowledge, the expression itself is taken from Qurʾān 18:65.
1. In Ashʿarī thought, the theological
school adopted by ʿAyn al-Quḍāt, the Qurʾān was considered to be uncreated.
The Muʿtazilīs rejected this perspective, insisting on a created Qurʾān.
2. In Ashʿarī theology, there are five
Divine Attributes par excellence. The Qurʾān as Kalām Allāh,
the Word of God, is one of them.
1. The verse in full provides
the context of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt’s point: ‘And God effaces whom He
wishes; and establishes [whom He desires]: and with him is the Mother of the
Book’.
2. Some recent translations
wish to remove the gradation of this verse by reading it as a contrast between
human and Divine knowledge: ‘For over all endued with knowledge there is One,
the All-Knowing’; see A. Yusuf Ali, 572.
3. A variant reading: ‘Who is
the one firmly rooted in knowledge?’
1. Literally: ‘Whoever acts
based on what he knows; God will bestow on him a knowledge that he doesn’t
know’.
1. I have translated futūḥ as ‘illumination’ rather than
‘Opening’, following the translation of Ibn ʿArabī’s well-known work al-Futūḥāt al-Makiyyah, which is often rendered:
‘The Meccan Illuminations’.
2. Wāqiʿah can also mean a spiritual
vision: Sajjādī, Iṣṭilāḥāt wa taʿbīrāt-i ʿirfānī, 779, reports that wāqiʿah can refer to a spiritual
vision of the Unseen Realm.
1. First three words are from
Qurʾān
13:17.
Nāma-hā
Translated for this volume by Omid Safi
from ʿAyn
al-Quḍāt
Hamadānī, Nāma-hā, ed., ʿAlī-Naqī Munzawī and ‘Afīf ʿUṣayrān (Tehran, 1969),
vols. 1 and 2, pp. 487–488.
The example of those who have plunged
themselves into kalām is like those whose ailment was
not getting better through permissible medicines. Given the exigent
circumstances, it is therefore permissible to cure them with forbidden
medicines. In Islamic Law, drinking wine is forbidden. However, if there is a
patient regarding whom physicians says that he can only be cured through
drinking wine—and that if he does not drink it he will die—certainly the
consensus of all religious scholars would be that drinking wine is permissible
for him. In fact, if he does not drink it, he is being disobedient… . Likewise,
it is not permissible for anyone to study kalām,
except through necessity.
In the age of the Prophet,
peace and blessings upon him, no one occupied themselves with kalām. Neither did anyone do so in the age of the
Companions, may God be pleased with them. It was after them that the heretically
innovative sects came into being. The Prophet, peace and blessings upon him,
said: ‘Whatever comes after me which is not traced to me is heretical
innovation, and going astray. Avoid it.’
Therefore, plunging into kalām is only permissible for two groups, and forbidden to
all else. One is a firmly rooted scholar, who is walking on firm ground in
terms of religion. When he sees that innovators are in positions of authority,
and that one cannot refute their discourse except through kalām,
then it is permissible for him to learn enough kalām
to offer a response to these enemies.
The other person [who should
be permitted to study kalām] is one whose belief in
God and the Messenger is weakened due to the heretical teachings he has heard,
which have influenced his heart. If the discourse of the preachers does not
cure him, and the religious scholars say that he can study enough kalām to know that the innovator’s discourse is all false,
then it is permissible for him to do so.
Apart from these two, if
someone studies kalām and seeks to offer his own
esoteric and allegorical interpretation, this person is a heretical innovator,
and one who seeks to cause strife.
Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī
Abu’l-Maʿālī Ṣadr al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Isḥāq Qūnawī (also written as Qunyawī) was born in 605/1207 in Anatolia
where he also had his earliest schooling. Little is known of his family
background except that his father died when he was a young boy and his mother
married Ibn ʿArabī when Ṣadr al-Dīn was twelve or thirteen years old. From that time on he was
with his stepfather nearly all the time, travelling with him to Aleppo and
Damascus where he stayed with the master until the latter’s death in 638/1241.
During this period Ibn ʿArabī did leave Ṣadr al-Dīn for a period in the hands of Awḥad al-Dīn Kirmānī for training and it is
said that Ṣadr al-Dīn used to state, ‘I drank milk from the breasts of two
mothers‘ (referring to Ibn ʿArabī and Awḥad al-Dīn Kirmānī). It was also during this period probably between
620/1223 and 635/1237 that Ṣadr al-Dīn went to some Persian cities such as Shiraz. Even during the
life of Ibn ʿArabī, Ṣadr al- Dīn apparently held important sessions for students to whom he
taught the former’s doctrines.
After the death of Ibn ʿArabī, Ṣadr al-Dīn began to
travel. He performed the Ḥajj and then set out for
Egypt in 638/1245–46 where he held long discussions with Ibn Sabʿīn. It is also said that
he met Shaykh Abu’l-Ḥaṣan al-Shādhilī during this journey but this assertion has not been
historically verified. In any case, Ṣadr al-Dīn returned to Quniyah (Konya) where he spent the last part of
his life and where he died in 673/1272. His mausoleum remains to this day a
famous site in that city. It was in this city that he trained most of his
well-known students and where he wrote his major works. Ṣadr al-Dīn was a
contemporary and close friend of Mawlānā Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, who also lived in
Konya, and it was he who performed the prayer for the dead before the body of
Mawlānā.
Ṣadr al-Dīn is the most important interpreter and disseminator of the
teachings of Ibn ʿArabī. His writings are mostly philosophical exposition of the highly
inspirational works of Ibn ʿArabī. While the master’s work is replete with illuminations and
spiritual visions like a series of bolts of lightning, his pupil and stepson
Qūnawī casts continuous light upon the truths he expounded. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī said of Ṣadr al-Dīn ‘It is impossible to understand Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings
concerning the Oneness of Being in a manner consistent with both intelligence
and the Sacred Law without studying al-Qūnawī’s works’.1 It was Ṣadr al-Dīn who more than
any other figure, transformed the doctrines of Ibn ʿArabī into what we call here philosophical
Sufism without in any way betraying the nature of Sufi gnosis or reducing it
simply to a ‘harmless’ mental philosophy devoid of spiritual and practical
significance. As Ibn ʿArabī was known by the followers of his School and even the general
public as ‘al-Shaykh al-Akbar’, the Supreme Master, so did Qūnawī come to be
known as ‘al-Shaykh al-Kabīr’, or the Grand Master.
Ṣadr al-Dīn trained a number of students whose role was crucial in the
spread of Ibn ʿArabian mystical theology (ʿirfān). Among the most
important of them one can mention:
1.Saʿd al-Dīn Farghānī, the author of Mashāriq al-darārī
al-zahar (Orients of Radiant Stars). This is a Persian commentary upon
Ibn al-Fāriḍ’s Arabic poem Naẓm al-sulūk (Poem of the Way) written as a summary of Qūnawī’s lectures on the
poem. Qūnawī’ himself wrote an approving foreword to the book. Farghānī
subsequently rewrote his commentary in Arabic, adding a great deal to it. Both
the Persian and the Arabic texts, especially their introduction, were highly
esteemed in the later tradition.
2.Muʾayyid al-Dīn Jandī,
another major figure of this School who was the author of a very influential
commentary upon the Fuṣūṣ as well as the Persian Nafḥat al-rūḥ (The Breath of the Spirit) which discusses
practices associated with the teachings of Ibn ʿArabī.
3.Fakhr
al-Dīn ʿIrāqī
(or ʿArāqī)
one of the greatest Persian mystical poets, whose Lamaʿāt (Divine Flashes), which is a masterpiece of Persian ʿirfānī prose, was inspired by the lectures of Ṣadr al-Dīn on the Fuṣūṣ.
4.Abū
Bakr ʿAlī
al- Malāṭī
al-Sīwāsī is significant as the person through whom the initiatory chain
issuing from Qūnawī reached later generation of Sufis.
Such later Persian
thinkers, mystics and poets as Shams al-Dīn Maghribī, ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kāshānī,
Shāh Niʿmat
Allāh Walī, Maḥmūd Shabistarī and ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī along with numerous figures of the centuries that followed,
some of whom will be treated in the next volume of this Anthology,
from Mullā Ṣadrā to Āqā Muḥammad Riḍā Qumshaʾī, owe their knowledge of Ibn ʿArabī to a large extent to Ṣadr al-Dīn’s works and those of his immediate students.
As for Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī’s
works, they were written in both Arabic and Persian and include some two dozen
texts of which perhaps the most significant and influential but not the only
pertinent writings are the following:
1.Miftāḥ
al-ghayb (The Key to the Unseen). This is the most
widely read and influential work of Ṣadr al-Dīn, one that is still a textbook on ʿirfān in Persia. It is a systematic treatment of both the metaphysical and
cosmological teachings of Ibn ʿArabī. This text is usually studied with the commentary of the Ottoman
gnostic and religious scholar and authority Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Fanārī entitled Miṣbāḥ al-uns (The Lamp of
Familiarity).
2.Tafsīr al-fātiḥah (Commentary upon the ʿOpening’ [chapter of Qurʾān]). One of the most
profound commentaries ever written on the Sūrat al-fātiḥah, this work deals with the three ‘books’, namely, the Qurʾān, the cosmos and man
and their relations with each other and to God.
3.Correspondence
with Naṣīr
al-Dīn Ṭūsī.
This very significant series of exchanges between two of the colossal figures
of Islamic thought during the seventh/thirteenth century, deals with both
similarities and differences between Ibn ʿArabian ʿirfān and mashshāʾī philosophy.
4.al-Nafaḥāt al-ilāhiyyah (Breaths
of Divine Inspiration). This is a long work that deals mostly with mystical
states rather than pure metaphysics.
5.al-Nuṣūṣ (The Texts). This is a masterly summary of Ibn ʿArabian metaphysics in
the form of a synoptic commentary upon and summary of the Fuṣūṣ.
Considering the immense
influence of the Nuṣūṣ upon later Islamic
thought in general and philosophical Sufism in particular, we have decided to
include a translation of part of this text in this section. Unfortunately
shortage of space did not allow for the translation of other works, especially
his Miftāḥ. This is regrettable considering the wide influence of this work of Ṣadr al-Dīn upon later ʿirfān. In any case one must be at least aware of the continuing influence of
this work during later centuries in the Persian world among gnostics,
philosophers and even some poets.
In this chapter, about one
half of the text of al-Nuṣūṣ (The Texts) is presented
in the English language for the first time. It begins with a discussion
concerning knowledge, its modalities and its relationship to existence, unity
and plurality and the Real. The chapter continues by examining stations of
knowledge and the degrees of knowing, different levels of knowing God and the
Real as Being. Identifying the Real as Being which is also the conclusion of
this treatise is at the heart of Qūnawī’s argument throughout this work.
S. H. Nasr
1. From the Nafaḥāt al-uns, ed. M. Tawḥīdīpūr (Tehran, 1336
Sh./1957) p. 556.
al-Nuṣūṣ
Translated for this volume by William C.
Chittick from Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī, al-Nuṣūṣ.1
The Keys to the Fuṣūṣ
Praise belongs to God, who, by means of
the resting-places of aspiration, clarified the levels and degrees of
certainty, which are knowledge, eye, and truth; who, by stilling the disquiet
of the seekers upon arrival at the utmost wish of their souls, elucidated the
disparity of their degrees in the way-stations of knowing Him and being near to
Him; and who, from among His creatures, set apart an elect by not giving them
any goal among all His worlds and all the Presences of His names and attributes
other than His Essence. Rather, He made the utmost aim of their aspirations the
most eminent objects of His Essential knowledge and the highest objects of His
desire, so the object of their desire and their furthest wish is what He desires through His Essence for His Essence with regard to
the highest modalities of His original, first tasks and the most elevated of
His entifications. Hence, He is identical with their knowledge, eye, and truth
of certainty, in all the levels of His Essential Knowledge, which is connected
first to Him and then to the objects of His knowledge, while they qua they are effaced in Him, though their ruling remains
and pervades all His existents and His Presences.
And God bless him who
realized Him in respect of the most perfect witnessing and the most complete,
eminent, and inclusive knowledge while having perpetual presence with Him in
all of his homesteads, states, levels, and configurations—our master Muḥammad; and the purified
among his community and his brethren, those who possess the most complete
inheritance of his knowledges, states, and stations along with the realization
of the results of their own exclusive shares that distinguish them from him;
through these become distinct the specificities of the intermediaries, the
fruits of the following, and the rulings of the interrelations. May that
blessing be continuous in ruling and perpetual in ripening throughout the
perpetuity of time in respect of His universal reality and the forms of its
differentiated rulings, which are called ‘His years, His months, His days, and
His hours’.
[1] An Eminent Text, the First of the
Texts that Must be Offered
Know that it is not correct, in respect of
the Real’s Essential Nondelimitation [iṭlāq
dhātī], for Him to be ruled by any ruling [ḥukm], to be recognized by any description [waṣf], or to have any relation [nisbah]
whatsoever ascribed to Him—whether oneness [waḥdah], the necessity [wujūb] of wujūd, originatingness [mabdaʾiyyah], the demand of existence-giving [ījād], the
emergence of an influence [athar], or the connection
[taʿalluq] of His knowledge
to Himself or to anything other than Himself.
For, all of this demands
entification [taʿayyun]1 and delimitation [taqayyud], but there is no
doubt that the intellection [taʿaqqul] of an entification demands being preceded by nonentification [lā taʿayyun], and everything
that we mentioned precludes nondelimitation. Or rather, the condition [sharṭ] of conceiving [taṣawwur] of the Real’s nondelimitation is that it be intellected in the
meaning of a negatory [salbī] description, not that
it be a nondelimitation whose opposite [ḍidd] is delimitation. On the contrary, it is nondelimited by both the
oneness and the manyness [kathrah] that are known, as
well as by restriction [ḥaṣr] in nondelimitation or delimitation, in comprehending [jamʿ] all that, or in being incomparable [tanazzuh]
with it. In respect to Him, all of that is correct while He is incomparable
with it all, so ascribing all of it and anything else to Him is equal to
negating it from Him. Neither is more appropriate than the other.
Once this has been
elucidated, then it is known that oneness, originatingness, influencing [taʾthīr], the
existentiating act [al-fiʿl al-ījādī], and so on may correctly be ascribed to the Real from the standpoint
[iʿtibār] of entification.
The first of the intellected
entifications is the Essential Relation of Knowledge [al-nisbah
al-ʿilmiyyah al-dhātiyyah]
from the standpoint of its being distinct [tamayyuz]
from the Essence, but through a relative [nisbī], not
a true, distinction. By means of the Essential Relation of Knowledge are
intellected the oneness of the Real, the necessity of His wujūd,
and His originatingness; especially in the respect that [1] His knowledge of
Himself is through Himself, and His very knowledge of Himself is a cause [sabab] of His knowledge of everything; [2] the ‘things’ [ashyāʾ] consist of the entifications of His universal [kullī]
and differentiated [tafṣīlī] intellections; [3] the ‘quiddities’ [māhiyyāt]
consist of the intellections; and [4] these intellections are configured [intishāʾ] one from another—not in the sense that they arrive newly [ḥudūth] in the Real’s intellection (exalted is God beyond what is improper
for Him!); rather, the intellection of some is posterior in level [mutaʾakhkhirat al-rutbah] to
others. All are endless [abadī] and beginningless [azalī] intellections in an identical manner. They are
intellected in knowledge, which becomes connected to them in accordance with
what their realities [ḥaqāʾiq] demand.
The demand [muqtaḍā] of their realities is
of two sorts: The first is that they are intellected inasmuch as their manyness
is effaced [istihlāk] in the Oneness of the Real.
This is the intellection of the differentiated [mufaṣṣal] within the undifferentiated [mujmal], like
the intelligent knower who witnesses in one kernel, with the eye of knowledge,
all the branches, leaves, and fruit that it contains potentially and, in each
individual fruit, the like of what was in the first kernel, and so on ad
infinitum.
The other sort is the
intellection of the rulings [aḥkām] of oneness in one group [jumlah] after
another such that each group is intellected through the quiddities that it
comprises. These are the forms of the multiple, plural intellections of the One
Wujūd. This is the reverse of the effacement
mentioned first, for that consisted of the effacement of manyness in oneness,
and this consists of the effacement of oneness in manyness. So, let this be
known!
[2] The Second Text
Know that the Real, in respect of His
nondelimitation and His encompassment [iḥāṭah], is not named by any name, nor is any ruling ascribed to Him, nor
does He become designated by any description or impression [rasm].
The relation of demand [iqtiḍāʾ] is not more appropriate
for Him than the relation of not demanding, for the demand that is thereby
intellected or negated is an entified ruling and a delimited description.
You should also know that
although demand is Essential, it has three levels:
Its ruling in respect of the
first level is that its entification does not depend [tawaqquf]
upon any condition [sharṭ], nor is there any reason [mūjib] that is the cause [sabab]
of its entification.
Its ruling in respect of the
second level is that its entification depends only on one condition.
Its ruling in respect of the
third level is that the manifestation of its rulings depends upon conditions,
causes, and intermediaries.
So, the ruling of the first
demand is the Essential Effusion [al-fayḍ
al-dhātī], not for any reason. No receptacle [qābil] or preparedness [istiʿdād] is intellected as its counterpart [muqābil].
The ruling of the second
demand depends upon one condition of wujūd alone, and
that condition of wujūd is the First Intellect, which
is the intermediary between the Real and those contingent things [mumkināt] whose wujūd has been
ordained [taqdīr] until the Day of Resurrection.
As for the ruling of the
demand in respect of the third level, the manifestation of its influence [athar] and ruling depends upon many conditions, such as the
rest of the existents [mawjūdāt].
I do not mean by this that
we have three demands, diverse in their realities. Rather, there is one demand
with three levels. In respect of each of the three levels, an influence or some
influences become manifest and entified. So understand!
[3] Among the Divine Texts
Know that plurality [taʿaddud] is ascribed to the unitary, Essential Knowledge in respect of its
connection [taʿalluq] to the known things [maʿlūmāt]. Perception [idrāk] of them is realized
only in respect of its entifications and connections. Its connection to each
known thing follows the known thing as that thing is in itself—whether the
known thing be simple or compound, temporal [zamānī]
or locational [makānī], nontemporal or nonlocational,
temporary [muwaqqat] in reception [qabūl] and finite [mutanāhī] in
ruling and description, or nontemporary and infinite in what we have mentioned.
So know this!
Also, one of the branches of
the mentioned texts is that the ruling of any ruler [ḥākim] concerning any ruled thing [maḥkūm ʿalayh] follows the state [ḥāl] of the ruler at the
moment [waqt] of ruling; and, it follows the state of
the ruled thing in the state of the ruler’s ruling.
If the ruled thing is such
that it undergoes transition [tanaqqul] in states,
then the rulings of what rules over it will be varied [tanawwuʿ] in each state, and the
ruler will differ in keeping with its becoming clothed [talabbus]
by those states. If, however, the ruled thing is such that it stays fixed [thābit] in one manner, then the ruling of what rules over
it will be fixed in keeping with the first connection designated by the ruling
and the demand of the ruler.
There remains the situation
according to the state of the ruler. Is the demand of the ruler’s essence
(transformation [taqallub] in states? Or, is the
demand of its essence)1 that it be fixed, and that the states undergo transformation over it?
So, the ruling of the ruler
will follow in accordance with one of the two affairs that restricts
the levels of the ruling of every ruler and every ruled thing, since no ruling
of any ruler and no ruled thing is outside what I mentioned.2
[4] Among the Texts
Knowledge follows wujūd,
in the sense that, wherever there is wujūd, there
will be knowledge, without disjoining [infikāk].
The disparity of knowledge
accords with the disparity of the quiddity’s complete [tāmm]
or defective [nāqiṣ] reception of wujūd.
So, when something receives wujūd in a more complete
manner, knowledge will be more complete. Knowledge will be defective in the
measure of the defective reception and the domination [ghalabah]
of the rulings of contingency [imkān] over the
rulings of necessity [wujūb], in contrast to what we
mentioned first. So know this!
[5] Among the Realized Texts
I have hinted at something of this in one
place in my books in the midst of and in the language of something else.
Nonetheless, I have set this book apart for the mention
of texts derived from tastings [adhwāq] specific to
the elect station of perfection [khuṣūṣ maqām
al-kamāl], leaving aside its common tongue [lisān ʿumūm], namely, the
delimited tastings gained by the masters of specific stations; at root, these
latter depend upon the Presence [ḥaḍrah] of one of the
divine names or attributes, which is the source and headspring of that specific
tasting.
So, it is incumbent upon me
to single out and distinguish what pertains specifically to the tasting of the
most perfect and the most comprehensive station and [to show] the correctness
of affirming it and its congruence [muṭābaqah] with what God knows in the highest, most complete, and most perfect
degrees of His knowledge of the affair that is being spoken of, without
stipulating its correctness and affirmation in relation or ascription [iḍāfah], or in one station
rather than another station, or from the standpoint of a state or a moment to
the exclusion of other states and moments or what was mentioned.
So we say, having offered
this introduction clarifying the text that we intend to elucidate: When man
perceives [idrāk] any known thing with his theory [naẓar], his unveiling [kashf], his senses [ḥiss], or his imagination [khayāl], together or
individually, and when his theory or his unveiling of that affair—or his
perception of it through the senses or imagination—does not reach as far as the
perception of what lies beyond it after having recognized its essentialities [dhātiyyāt] and universal requisites [lawāzim
kulliyyah], then he has not perceived the thing with right perception
nor recognized it with right recognition [maʿrifah].
It makes no difference
whether his perception and recognition are connected to the cosmos in respect
of its meanings [maʿānī] and spirits [arwāḥ], or in respect of its forms [ṣuwar] and accidents [aʿrāḍ]; or if his recognition
is connected to the Real.
When the true state of
affairs is unveiled for him along with the form of the entification of every
known thing in the Real’s knowledge, he will find the affair to be so. This is
because, as long as his recognition of the Real does not reach as far as His
nondelimitation and the utter, true oneness of His Essence—which is not
designated by any name, description, ruling, or impression, nor apprehended [inẓibāṭ] by any witnessing [shuhūd] or intellection,
nor restricted by any designated affair—he will not know that ‘There is no
target beyond God,’1 that encompassing Him in knowledge and witnessing [shuhūd]
is absurd [muḥāl], and that beyond the
Nondelimited Wujūd of the Real there is nothing but
imaginary non-existence [al-ʿadam
al-mutawahham].
There is, nonetheless,
another path to the recognition of the impossibility of knowing God as He knows
Himself that is even higher, more complete, and more unveiled.
We have recognized it through tasting and witnessing—by the praise and favour
of God the exalted—but it is among the things whose clarification and recording
is forbidden. Its utmost clarification is the mentioned hint. So be it.
Tasting, the recognition
gained by its possessor, and witnessing—inasmuch as the tasting and station
depend upon the presence of one of the divine names, which is the qiblah of the possessor of that station and the furthest
limit [ghāyah] of his recognition of the Real—are an
utmost limit [nihāyah], especially from the
standpoint that demands the name to be the same as the Named [al-musammā], as we have elucidated in various places in our
discourse. But these are relative furthest limits, for the origins and furthest
limits are waymarks of the relative perfections.
The situation in respect of
true perfection is otherwise. God alludes to this in His words to the most
perfect of His servants, ‘Surely at thy Lord is the endpoint’ [53:42]. He
placed in this verse a hidden subtlety, and that is the fact that He did not
say, ‘Surely at thy Lord is thy endpoint.’ Rather, He pointed out to him that
his furthest limit in unqualified Lordship [muṭlaq
al-rubūbiyyah] is the furthest limit that is the
furthest of all furthest limits. After that, there is nothing but the
differentiations of the degrees in most-perfectness [akmaliyyah],
which do not come to a halt at any boundary or furthest limit.
The Prophet alluded to what
we have mentioned in one of his intimate prayers, for he said, ‘I seek refuge
in Thy good pleasure from Thy anger and in Thy pardon from Thy punishment and I
seek refuge in Thee from Thee. I do not enumerate Thy laudation. Thou art as
Thou hast lauded Thyself.’ In other words, ‘I do not reach everything that is
in Thee.’ Thus he pointed out the impossibility of encompassment, and he
combined with it giving knowledge of his having reached the furthest of the
furthest limits in his recognition of the Real. This is like a commentary on
the mentioned verse, that is, His words, ‘Surely at thy Lord is the endpoint.’
In the prophetic ḥadīths there are many pointers that allude to what we have mentioned. Those
who explore them after waking up to and understanding what I have mentioned
will find them lucid and resplendent.
Now we say: The
afore-mentioned station and tasting has tongues that translate it in diverse
styles. Among its tongues in the Qurʾān in respect of naming is ‘the Ramparts’ [al-aʿrāf], concerning which He gave news that its ‘men recognize each by its
mark’ [7:46]. This is one of the characteristics of gazing over all sides by
reaching the point of recognizing things to the furthest limit, which makes it
necessary to raise up one’s gaze to what is beyond them.
Its tongue and name in the
station of prophethood is ‘place of cognizance’ [muṭṭalaʿ]. Thus the Prophet said
concerning the Mother of the Qurʾān, or rather, concerning the mystery of each of the Qurʾān’s verses, that it has
‘a manifest sense, a non-manifest sense, a limit, and a place of cognizance, up
to seven non-manifest senses.’ According to another version, ‘up to seventy
non-manifest senses.’ I have informed about this in Tafsīr
al-fātiḥah, so one can look for
it there.1
Its name and tongue in the
terminology of the Folk of God is ‘halting place’ [mawqif],
which is the endpoint of every station and which gazes over the coming station.
Its name and tongue in the
tasting of the station of perfection relative to every two stations is ‘the
isthmus [barzakh] that comprehends the two’, and,
relative specifically to the station of perfection, ‘the isthmus of isthmuses’.
[6] An Eminent Text, Difficult of Access
‘The Unseen of the Real’s He-ness’ [ghayb huwiyyat al-ḥaqq] is an allusion to
His nondelimitation from the standpoint of nonentification and His true oneness
that erases all standpoints.
The ‘names, attributes,
relations, and ascriptions’ consist of the Real’s intellection and perception
of Himself in respect of His entification. This entificational intellection and
perception follow the mentioned nondelimitation, but, relative to the Real’s
entification within the intellection of any intellecter in any self-disclosure
[tajallī], it is a nondelimited entification; it is
the vastest entification and is witnessed by the Perfect [kummal].
This is the Essential Self-Disclosure that has the station of the highest tawḥīd.
The ‘originatingness’ of the
Real follows this entification. The originatingness is the source of the
standpoints and the headspring of the relations and ascriptions that become
manifest in wujūd while staying non-manifest in the
courtyard of intellections and minds [adhhān].
What is said to be ‘a
Nondelimited, One, Necessary Wujūd’ consists of the
entification of wujūd in the Essential, divine
relation of knowledge. In respect of this relation, Realizers call the Real
‘the Origin’ [mabdaʾ], not in respect of any other relation. So
understand and ponder this, for I have inserted in this text the root of the
roots of the divine knowledges. And God is the right-guider.
[7] A Text
When any traveller [sālik]
travels on a path whose furthest limit is the Real on condition of his winning
from Him some sort of felicity [saʿādah], that traveller is the possessor of a miʿrāj and his travelling is an ascent [ʿurūj]. So understand!
[8] An Eminent, Universal Text, Containing
Resplendent Mysteries
Know that whenever something is described
as influencing [taʾthīr] one thing or some things, the application of this description to it
will not be completely true so long as it does not influence the reality of the
thing inasmuch as it is it, without the intellection of the inclusion of
another limitation [qayd] or some outside
condition—whatever it may be—within the reality described as exerting the
influence.
I only mention these
limitations because of the influences that are ascribed to things in respect of
their levels, or in respect of standpoints that are requisites of their
realities; and because of what has also become widespread among the folk of
theoretical intellect and most of the folk of tastings; namely, that when
something is described by mirrorness [mirʾātiyyah], whether its mirrorness be supraformal [maʿnawī] or sensory [ḥissī], its mirror has an
influence on what is reflected within it, because it gives the form of the
reflected thing back to it, and the form of the reflected thing becomes manifest
within it according to it.
This is correct in a certain
way, but not in an unqualified sense. It would be correct for the mirror to
influence the reflected thing only if it influenced its reality per se. This,
however, does not happen. One affirms the mirror’s influence on the reflected
thing only in respect of the perception of those who do not know the reality of
the reflected thing and who perceive it only in the mirror. The mirror,
however, is not a locus for the reality of the reflected thing, but rather a
locus for the disclosure of its image and some of its manifestations.
Manifestation is a relation that is ascribed to the reflected thing in respect
of the reflection of its form in the mirror; it is not the very reality of the
reflected thing.
By my words ‘some of its
manifestations’ I mean to point out that the essential, exclusive
self-disclosures [al-tajalliyyāt al-dhātiyyah al-ikhtiṣāsiyyah] are not within a locus of manifestation [maẓhar] or a mirror, nor do they accord with some level. For, when someone
perceives the Real in respect of these self-disclosures, he has witnessed the
Reality as It is outside the mirror, not according to a locus of manifestation
or a level, as we said—not a name, an attribute, a designated state, or anything
else. It is he who knows by tasting that the mirror has no influence on the
Reality. Our Shaykh the leader used to name these self-disclosures ‘the
Essential, lightning-like [barqī] self-disclosures’.1
In those days I did not know the reason for this nomenclature, nor what the
Shaykh meant by it.
These Essential,
lightning-like self-disclosures occur for no one except those who are
completely detached [farāgh] from all descriptions,
states, and rulings—both those pertaining to necessity and [divine] names and
those pertaining to contingency. This detachment is a nondelimited detachment
that does not differ from the nondelimitation of the
Real except that it lingers no more than one breath [nafas],
which is why it is likened to lightning. The reason for its lack of continuity
[dawām] is the ruling of the all-comprehensiveness [jamʿiyyah] of the human
reality. Just as this all-comprehensiveness does not demand its continuity, so
also, if human all-comprehensiveness did not entail this description—namely,
the detachment and nondelimitation that attract these self-disclosures—then
human all-comprehensiveness would not be an all-comprehensiveness that fully
embraces every description, state, and ruling. So, the ruling of all-comprehensiveness
affirms it and negates its continuity.
I found, when God granted me
this self-disclosure, that it had wonderful rulings in my inward and my
outward. Among them was that, although it did not stay for two breaths, it left
in the locus [maḥall] descriptions and sciences that no one but God can calculate. I came
to know in the night that I wrote down this Arriver [wārid]1
that he who does not taste this locus of witnessing [mashhad]
is not a Muḥammadan inheritor [wārith Muḥammadī]; he does not know the secret of his words, ‘I have a moment when no
one embraces me other than my Lord’; nor the secret of his words, ‘God was, and
nothing was with Him’; nor the secret of God’s words, ‘Our command is but one,
like a glance of the eyesight’ [54:50]. Nor does he know the secret of the fact
that existence-giving does not originate in any existent time.
In the same way, when
someone tastes this locus of witnessing, having already known that the fixed
entities [al-aʿyān al-thābitah] are the realities of the existents; that they are not made [ghayr majʿūl]; that the reality of
the Real is incomparable with making [jaʿl] and influencing; and that there is no third thing other than the Real
and the entities; then he will necessarily know—if indeed he has what we have
mentioned—that nothing influences anything, that the things influence
themselves, and that what are named influencing ‘causes’ [ʿilal] and ‘occasions’ [asbāb] are conditions for
the manifestation of things in themselves. It is not that one reality
influences another reality.
So also he should know the
situation in ‘assistance’ [madad]. There is nothing
that assists anything else. Rather, assistance reaches the manifest side of
something from its non-manifest side, and this is made manifest by the luminous
self-disclosure of wujūd [al-tajallī
al-nūrī al-wujūdī]. But making manifest does not take place by
influencing the reality of what is made manifest. So, the relations influence
each other, in the sense that some of them are the cause of the configuration
of the ruling of others and of their manifestation in the reality that is their
source.
Among the things that come
to be known by the taster of this self-disclosure is that the fixed entities,
in respect of being mirrors, have no influence on the divine self-disclosure
of wujūd except in respect of the manifestation of
the plurality latent in that self-disclosure. So, this is an influence in the
relation of manifestation and a condition of making manifest. The Real,
however, transcends being influenced by other than Himself, and the realities
of the engendered things [al-kāʾināt] transcend being influenced in respect of their realities, for, from
this standpoint, they are—in the tasting of the Perfect—the same as the Tasks [shuʾūn]1 of the Real, so it
is not permissible that others should influence them. Hence, in the respect
that it is a mirror, a mirror has no influence on the reality of what is
reflected within it, because of the explanation already given.
So, understand this text and
ponder it, for I have inserted within it precious sciences and mysteries whose
measure cannot be measured by any but God. This is the certain truth and the
clear text. Even though something you hear that opposes it may be correct, it
is relatively correct. This is the explicit truth within which there is nothing
dubious. And God is the right-guider, the guide.
[9] Among the Universal Texts
These are texts that I mentioned in the
book Miftāḥ ghayb al-jamʿ wa tafṣīlihi and in other books.2 I composed them without mixing in the
words of anyone else, for that is not my custom, because God has preserved me
from that—with His high, unadulterated gifts, He has delivered me from any need
for low, outside borrowings. But I have specified this book for mentioning the
texts, so it is also necessary to mention those texts here.
So, I say: Among them is
that inasmuch as something is the cause of the wujūd
of manyness [kathra] and many [kathīr],
it is impossible for it in that respect to become entified through
manifestation, nor will it appear to a gazer [nāẓir] except in something gazed upon [manẓūr].
Among them: Nothing that is
opposed to [muḍāddah] or different from [mubāyanah] a thing
emerges [ṣudūr] or results from
it, despite the diversity of the sorts and kinds of results [thamar]—the supraformal [maʿnawī], spiritual [rūḥānī], imaginal [mithālī], imaginary [khayālī],3 sensory [ḥissī], and natural [ṭabīʿī]. This holds generally
for anything that is called ‘a place of emergence’ [maṣdar] or ‘a result-yielding root’ [aṣl
muthmir] for a thing or things. However, it has
this description from the standpoint of intellecting it inasmuch as it is it,
and, from another, hidden standpoint, of which only rare Realizers gain
cognizance.
When it is thought that
something happens counter to what we mentioned, that will only be so because of
and in accordance with a condition or conditions, external to the essence of
the thing, and in accordance with the guise [hayʾa] that is intellected because of the coming together—I mean the coming
together of the reality that is described by emergence and result-yielding and
the external conditions and standpoints along with the rulings of the level
within which the coming together becomes entified.
‘Each works similar to its
way’ [17:84]. Nothing results in or makes manifest anything that is the same or
completely similar to it, because that would require that wujūd
had come about and become manifest twice in one reality and in one level in one
way and mode. This would be to gain what is already there [taḥṣīl
al-ḥāṣil], which is absurd; it
would be empty of benefit and would pertain to the useless [ʿabath], but the Wise, Knowing, Real Actor transcends useless acts. Hence,
the roots must be different from their results. Moreover, the contingent things
are infinite, and effusion from the Real, who is the Root of roots, is one. So,
in the view of him who knows what I have mentioned, there is no repetition in wujūd. So understand!
This is why the Realizers
have said, ‘God does not disclose Himself twice in one form to one individual,
nor to two individuals in a form.’ On the contrary, there must be a separating
factor and a difference in one or more ways, as I pointed out earlier. So
understand! And God is the right-guider.
[10] An Eminent Text
Know that, given that it is not possible
to ascribe any attribute or name to the Real in respect of His nondelimitation,
or to apply to Him any ruling, whether negatory or affirmative, it is thus
known that attributes, names, and rulings are not applied or ascribed to Him
except in respect of the entifications.
Once it is clear that every
manyness in wujūd and intellection must be preceded
by oneness, then it becomes necessary that the entifications—in respect of
which names, attributes, and rulings are ascribed to the Real—be preceded by an
entification that is the origin and source of all the entifications, in the
sense that nothing lies beyond it save unmixed nondelimitation; this is a
negatory affair that requires the negation of descriptions, rulings, entifications,
and standpoints from the core [kunh] of His Essence
as well as the lack of delimitation or restriction by any description, name,
entification, or anything else that we have enumerated or mentioned in summary
fashion.
Now, unimpaired intellects,
even if they lack sound unveiling, may take the standpoint of the ensuing
attributes and names. If they are unable to intellect any names
or attributes beyond what they conceptualize [taṣawwur] and if their intellective perceptions reach only that, then, in relation
to them, these are ‘the names of the Essence’. In the stage of the theoretical
intellect and the state of this veil [ḥijāb], they will draw
conclusions about these realities from the inclusiveness [shumūl]
of their ruling, from the fact that the other names and attributes are
subordinate [tabaʿiyyah] to them, and from the fact that what comes after them becomes
entified depending upon them.
So, the Essential [dhātī] and name-related [asmāʾī] divine gifts [ʿaṭāʾ] are known from this rule, in the sense that every gift and good [khayr] that reaches creation from the Real will be either
an Essential or a name-related gift, or it will combine the Essence and the
names.
There is no way to reckon
the Essential gifts. Their entifications are not restrained or restricted by
number.
As for the name-related
gifts ascribed both to the Essence and the names, either their relation to the
Presence of the Essence will be stronger and more complete than their relation
to the Presence of the names and attributes, or the contrary. If their relation
to the names and attributes dominates over their relation to the Essence, then
they may be reckoned, either with difficulty or ease, according to the
domination [ghalabah] and the being dominated over [maghlūbiyyah] that occur in this case. But here there is a
great secret that cannot be divulged.
If the result of domination
and being dominated over is that the relation of the gifts to the Presence of
the Essence is strong, this will have no reckoning, because the Essential gifts
and whatever has a strong relation to them emerge and are received only because
of an Essential correspondence [munāsaba]. There is
no reason for them other than this correspondence.
Whoever does not recognize
this principle does not know the reality of His words, ‘He gives provision to
whomsoever He will without reckoning’ [2:212], or the secret of His words,
‘This is Our gift, to bestow or withhold without reckoning’ [38:39], or the
like of that, mentioned repeatedly in the Exalted Book and also in the
prophetic ḥadīths, such as his
words, ‘Surely from my community seventy thousand will enter paradise without
reckoning, and with every thousand, seventy thousand.’ These are the possessors
of the name-related gifts. Their relation to the Presence of the Essence,
however, is stronger than their relation to the Presence of the names and
attributes. This is why they follow the possessors of the Essential
correspondence and share with them in their states. So know that!
Now that we have mentioned
the sorts and the rulings of gifts, let us mention the sorts of their
recipients [qābilūn]. For, in their taking, they have
classes that become numerous according to the requests of their preparedness,
state, level, spirit, constitutional [mizājī] nature,
or accidental [ʿaraḍī] nature. It is these
that are expressed by the tongue of the receiving seeker.
In short, the highest level
of the recipients in receiving what reaches them from the effusion and gifts of
the Real is the vision of the Real’s face in the conditions and causes named
‘the intermediaries’ [wasāʾiṭ] and ‘the chain of
[cosmic] order’ [silsilat al- tartīb]. The taker
knows and witnesses that the causative intermediaries are nothing but the
entifications of the Real in the divine and engendered [kawnī]
levels in all the diversity of their kinds. In other words, there is nothing
between the received effusion of the Real and the recipient except the very
entification of the effusion through the delimited receptivity. There is no
inclusion of a ruling of contingency [ḥukm imkānī] that would
be demanded and made necessary by the influence of the effusion’s passing over
the levels of the intermediaries and by its becoming coloured [inṣibāgh] by the rulings of
their contingencies. It is seen that the effusion is one of the
self-disclosures of the Real’s Nonmanifest, for the pluralities (and
entifications)1 joined with it are among the rulings of the name Manifest in respect
of the fact that the Real’s Manifest is a locus of disclosure for His
Nonmanifest. So, the rulings of manifestation pluralize the nondelimited
oneness of non-manifestation. It is these rulings that are named ‘recipients’,
and they are the forms of the Tasks, nothing else. So understand. ‘And God
speaks the truth, and He guides whomsoever He will to a straight path’ [35:41].
[11] A Resplendent Text and Universal Rule
Providing Knowledge of the Divine Compliance
and Response, and His Withholding the Two
Know that the complete, explicit scale [mīzān] and the taste-derived, sound demonstration [burhān] in recognizing when the servant is among those who
obey their Lord and when he will quickly be given the divine response [ijāba] in exactly what he asks, without substitution or
delay, is sound recognition and perfect compliance [muṭāwaʿa]. When someone’s recognition of the Real is sounder and his conception
of the Real is sounder, then the response to him will be quicker in exactly
what he requests. When someone is more complete in watching over [murāqaba] the commandments of the Real and in undertaking
them with perfect compliance, then the Real’s compliance with him will also be
more complete than His compliance with other servants. This is why the state of
the great ones among the Folk of God demands that most of their supplications
receive a response—because of the perfection of compliance and the soundness of
recognizing God and conceiving of God. God alludes to this with His words,
‘Supplicate Me and I will respond to you’ [40:60].
When someone lacks sound
recognition by way of witnessing, he is not the supplicant of the Real to whom
He guarantees a response with His words, ‘Supplicate Me and I will respond to
you’. For he turns his attention only to the form individuated
[mushakhkhaṣ] in his mind [dhihn] and resulting from his
theory [naẓar] and imagination [khayāl], or from the imagination and theory of someone
else, or from what all this has given him. This is why someone of this sort is
deprived of being given a response with exactly what he asked for, or there is
a delay in it—I mean, in the response. When someone like this receives a
response, its cause is the mystery of the divine withness [maʿiyyah], which demands that nothing be empty of the Real; or it is the
complete concentration [jamʿiyyah] that is gained by the distressed [muḍṭarr], who are promised a response when they supplicate in distress,1
and the preparedness they have gained from that—that is, the distress.
The state of someone who has
this description is different from the state of the possessor of sound
conception and realized recognition, for the latter calls the Real to presence
[istiḥḍār] and turns his
attention [tawajjuh] toward Him with a realized
calling to presence and turning of attention. Even if he does not have this in
every respect, it is enough that he has conceived of the Real and called Him to
presence in his attention only in some levels and in respect of some names and
attributes. This is the state of the intermediate Folk of God, whereas the
just-mentioned state is the state of the veiled.
As for the Perfect [kummal] and the Solitaries [afrād],2
their attention to the Real follows the Essential self-disclosure that they
have, and their realization of the station of perfection depends on having
attained it. For them it results in a complete recognition that comprehends the
modalities [haythiyyāt] of all the names, attributes,
levels, and standpoints along with a sound conception of the Real in respect of
His already mentioned Essential self-disclosure gained by them through the most
complete witnessing. This is why the response is not delayed for them.
Also, the Perfect and those
Solitaries whom God wills are the folk of cognizance of the Guarded Tablet, or
rather, of the station of the Pen, or rather, of the Presence of the Divine
Knowledge. Hence they are aware of what has been ordained to come to be,
because of foreknowledge [sabq al-ʿilm] of its inescapable occurrence. So, they do not ask for something
absurd, something whose wujūd has not been ordained.
Their aspirations are not incited to seek [ṭalab] or desire [irādah] that.
I only say ‘desire that’
because there are those upon whose desire the occurrence of things depends,
even if they do not supplicate or ask the Real for it to come about. I
witnessed that from our Shaykh—may God sanctify his mystery—for many years in
uncountable affairs. He reported to me that he saw the
Prophet in one of his visions1 and that he gave him good news and said
to him, ‘God is quicker to respond to you than you are to supplicate Him’. This
station is above the station of receiving response to supplications and is one
of the specificities of perfect compliance.
The station of perfect
compliance is above the station of compliance, for the station of compliance is
specific to what was alluded to—namely undertaking to observe commandments,
following everything that pleases the Real, and performing His rights [ḥuqūq] in the measure of ability. The Prophet alluded to it when he replied
to his uncle Abū Ṭālib, who said to him, ‘How quickly your Lord hastens to do what you
want, O Muḥammad!’, when he had seen the quickness of the Real’s response to him
in what he would ask from Him. According to another version, he said to him,
‘How your Lord obeys you!’
The Prophet said to him,
‘And you, O Uncle—if you obey Him, He will obey you.’
This station, which we said
is above that, goes back to the perfection of the servant’s fulfilling what the
Real desires from him in respect of his reality through the first, universal
desire, which is connected to the achievement of the Perfection of Disclosure
and Discovery [kamāl al-jalāʾ
wa’l-istijlāʾ].2 This is the reason for giving existence to the cosmos and Perfect Man,
who is precisely God’s Intended Entity [ʿayn maqṣūdah]. Everything else is intended by way of subordination to him and
because of him. For, when there is something without which the sought thing [maṭlūb] cannot be reached,
that also is sought. This is what I mean by my words, ‘by way of
subordination’.
Perfect Man alone is desired
for himself because he is a complete locus of disclosure [majlā]
for the Real. Through him the Real becomes manifest in respect of His Essence
and all His names, attributes, rulings, and standpoints as He knows Himself
through Himself in Himself; and through everything comprised by His names, His
Attributes, and all the rulings and standpoints that I alluded to, and the
realities of the things known by Him [maʿlūmāt], which are the entities of the things He engenders—without any
alteration by reason of defective reception, or a deficient mirrorness that
would demand that [Perfect Man] reflect something that becomes manifest other
than as it is in itself.
When someone is of this
sort, he has no desire distinct from the Real’s desire. Rather, he is the
mirror of His Lord’s desire and His other attributes. Thus his supplication is
effaced in his desire, which does not differ from his Lord’s desire. So, what
he desires occurs, just as He says: ‘Doer of what He desires’ [85:16].
If someone who has reached
the realization of what we mentioned supplicates, he will be supplicating with
the tongues and levels of all the inhabitants of the cosmos, because he is a
mirror of them all. In the same way, when he leaves aside supplication, he
leaves it aside only in respect of being the Real’s locus of disclosure from
the standpoint of that face among his two faces that is adjacent to the Divine
Side.1 He does not differ from Him in respect of His being ‘doer of what He
desires.’ No one can aim at any target or climb to any level or station beyond
this station.
Below him is the one who
turns his attention toward the Real with complete recognition and sound
conception, the one intended by the address, ‘Supplicate Me and I will respond
to you’—and the Real’s report is truthful. This has become easy for the servant
alluded to, so the result is inescapable, that is, the response, in contrast to
the other turners of attention whose characteristics were mentioned.
So know this! You will
attain exalted mysteries and wonderful sciences to which thoughts and
imaginings do not climb, nor do fingers inscribe them with pens. And God is the
right-guider.
[12] An Eminent Text
Know that the highest degree of knowledge
of a thing—whatever thing it may be, in relation to whatever knower it be, and
whether the thing known be one or more things—is gained only through
unification [ittiḥād] with the known thing and the knower’s being no different [mughāyarah] from it; for, what causes ignorance of
something and prevents perfect perception of it is nothing other than the
domination of the ruling through which the two are distinct [imtiyāz]. This is a supraformal distance [buʿd maʿnawī]. Distance, in
whatever respect, prevents perfect perception of the distant thing.
The disparate degrees of
knowledge of the thing are in the measure of the disparate domination of the
ruling that unifies the knower with the known thing. True nearness eliminates
the separation that is true distance, which was alluded to as the rulings
through which difference and distinction come to be.
When you witness this affair
and taste it with realized unveiling, you will know that the Real has perfect
knowledge of things only because He discovers [istijlāʾ] them in Himself while
their manyness and otherness are effaced in His oneness. For, when something is
within something else—whether the locus be supraformal or formal—it will only
come to be and become manifest in accordance with that within which it is
entified and manifest. This is why we say that the Real knows Himself through
Himself and He knows the things in Himself through His very knowledge of
Himself.
Divine reports have come
that ‘God was, and nothing was with Him’, thus negating the otherness of things
relative to the oneness that is their unseen1 locus and affirming
the firstness of the Real in respect of the oneness. Through the distinction of
the manyness of the things that are intellected in the second place and latent
[kāmin] before that in oneness, and through the fact
that in actuality oneness comprehends [jamʿ] the things, the
perfection that was first concealed in oneness becomes manifest. Thereby the
door is opened to the Perfection of Disclosure and Discovery, which is the true
sought object. Thereby become manifest the rulings of oneness in manyness, and
of manyness in oneness.
Oneness makes manyness one [waḥḥadat al-kathrah], for it
becomes the common measure [qadr mushtarik] among the
many things, which are distinct from each other by essence; hence it joins [tawṣīl] their separations [fuṣūl], because by essence
it comprehends, as we mentioned. And the many things [mutakaththirāt]
pluralize [taʿdīd] the One in respect
of the entifications, which are the cause of the variation of the One’s
manifestation in colour [ṣibgh] and colours and
[the cause] of the diverse qualities [kayfiyyāt] that
demand the diversity of the preparednesses of the many things that receive the
One Self-Disclosure. Thereby is renewed recognition of the kinds of
manifestations and their requisite rulings, which consist of some influencing
others by holding together and taking apart, outwardly and inwardly, high and
low, temporarily and not temporarily, correspondingly and not
correspondingly—all that by means of the conjunction [ittiṣāl] that they have through the unitary self-disclosure of wujūd that comprehends them all, as was mentioned.
So knowledge, bliss [naʿīm], and felicity in all
their diverse kinds accord only with the correspondence [munāsabah];
and ignorance, chastisement, and wretchedness accord with the strength of the
rulings of difference [mubāyanah] and distinction. As
for the intermixing [imtizāj] of those rulings
through which there is unification and of those rulings through which there is
distinction, its governing authority [salṭanah] has no end.
The source of each group of
rulings through a sort of correspondence, the place to which they refer in
respect of ascription, and that to which they are traced back [mustanad] is named ‘the level’. So understand!
When I started to write this
text, it was said to me in my inwardness while I was writing: In respect of
oneness, the root of the rulings ascribed to oneness and to the One Real and
called ‘the rulings of necessity’ is one ruling, and that is the reality of the ‘decree’ [qaḍāʾ]. The measures [maqādīr] of the influence of the pluralities of the known
things belong to the one ruling. The One Wujūd
becomes manifest by reason of these pluralities, first by being influenced, and
second by influencing these pluralized things through returning their
influences to them. So know this, and ponder the wonderful thing that I have
pointed out! You will attain exalted knowledge. And God is the right-guider.
1. I have used the edition of
the text established by Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Āshtiyānī, which includes notes by
the early twentieth-century scholar Āqā Mīrzā Hāshim Ashkawarī (d. 1332/1953).
However, the edition has many minor errors, which I have tried to correct by
collating it with two good manuscripts from the Süleymaniye Library in
Istanbul, copies of which were kindly supplied by the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society in Oxford.
These are Şehid ʿAlī Pāshā 1351, copied in 690, sixteen years after Qūnawī’s
death; and Ayasofya 1724, copied in 813. Neither is without copyist errors, and
a critical edition of the text will certainly need to take into account other
manuscripts (of which there are well over thirty in the Süleymaniye alone).
Significant discrepancies between the Āshtiyānī edition and the two manuscripts
have been indicated in the notes.
In translating the treatise, I have refrained as much as
possible from adding explanatory material, even though this is perhaps the
densest work of a notoriously difficult author. I have tried to be consistent
in rendering technical terminology, so I have usually limited myself to one
mention of the original Arabic term (typically in maṣdar form).
Qūnawī pays much less attention than Ibn ʿArabī to the images and
symbols implicit in Qurʾānic Arabic. He tends rather to
employ words in keeping with the abstract, technical meanings that had been
given to them in the sciences. Although I have tried to translate the text
using the same terminology that I have employed elsewhere in translating Ibn ʿArabī, I have often opted
instead for a more abstract, philosophical-sounding word. To cite but one
example, Ibn ʿArabī commonly speaks of the ‘athar’
or ‘trace’ of a divine name, a word that carries the same sort of significance
as Qurʾānic ‘sign’ (āyah). But Qūnawī uses
the word in a more abstract manner, and I render it as ‘influence’.
The word wujūd is central to
Qūnawī’s vocabulary, and indeed, in this treatise we see some of the first
instances of the expression waḥdat
al-wujūd,
always associated in the later tradition with Ibn ʿArabī’s name (though he did not use
it). Qūnawī is fully aware of the broad range of meanings embraced by the word wujūd, including being, existence, finding, awareness, and
consciousness. To choose one English term over another leads to an unwarranted
specification of the word’s meaning, so I have left it untranslated. As for the
adjective wujūdī, I translate it as ‘of wujūd’ rather than, e. g., ‘ontological’, which may or may
not be appropriate in a given context.
1. Use of taʿayyun as a specific technical term
apparently begins with Qūnawī. Ibn ʿArabī uses the word on occasion, but
not in a technical sense. From Qūnawī onward, it is a standard expression among
Ibn ʿArabī’s
followers. When translated as ‘determination’, as it often is, its connection
with the word ʿayn, one of the most important technical
terms of this school of thought is obscured. Taʿayyun means basically ‘to become
an ʿayn’ or ‘to take on the characteristics of an ʿayn’. ʿAyn means ‘entity’, that is, a
‘thing’ (shayʾ) as distinct from other things. The
‘First Entification’ is Real Wujūd inasmuch as It
discloses Itself in characteristics and attributes that allow us to understand
and conceptualize It as an entity distinct from that which is absolutely
nondelimited and nondistinct, i.e., the Essence (al-Dhāt).
1. Missing in the two
manuscripts.
2. Ashkawarī says in his notes
that the purport of this Text is to explain the four possible types of ruling
in terms of ruler and ruled. In the first type, both ruler and ruled are fixed,
as in the case of the Real, who is the subject and object of His own knowledge.
In the second, neither ruler nor ruled is fixed, such as the wayfarer who
undergoes transformations as he passes over the stations on the path to God. In
the third, the ruler is fixed but not the ruled, such as wujūd,
which rules over its entifications, because the Real determines the creatures.
The fourth type is the opposite, such as the entifications, which rule over wujūd and determine the way it becomes manifest, since they
are fixed in the First Entification (the fact of their being known to God in
Himself).
1. A well-known ḥadīth that is not found, however,
in Wensinck’s Concordance.
1. Tafsīr
al-fātiḥah is the same as Iʿjāz
al-bayān fī tafsīr umm al-Qurʾān (Dāʾirat’l-Maʿārif al-ʿUthmāniyya, Hyderabad-Deccan,
2nd edition, 1949). Also published by ʿAbd al-Qādir Aḥmad ʿAṭāʾ as al-Tafsīr al-ṣūfī
li’l-Qurʾān (Cairo, 1969). For the passage
Qūnawī refers to here, see Iʿjāz, pp. 262–263; al-Tafsīr, pp. 377–378.
1. For a few references to
these lightning-like self-disclosures in Ibn ʿArabī’s writings, see Chittick, Imaginal Worlds (Albany, NY, 1994), pp. 81–82.
1. In the technical language of
Sufism, an ‘Arriver’ is an influx of knowledge by way of unveiling. See the
translation of Ibn ʿArabī’s chapter on the Arriver from the Futūḥāt in Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God (Albany, NY, 1998), pp. 148–150.
1. This term derives from the
Qurʾānic
verse, ‘Each day He is upon some task’ (55:29) which Ibn ʿArabī interprets in terms of the
day of the ‘He-ness’ or the Essence, which is the present moment, and the fact
that there is no repetition in divine self-disclosure. See Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge (Albany, NY, 1989), pp. 98–99.
2. Compare Qūnawī, Miftāḥ al-ghayb, text in Fanārī, Miṣbāḥ al-uns, edited by Muḥammad Khwājawī (Tehran, 1374
Sh./1995), pp. 13–14.
3. Şehid Ali Paşa 1351 lacks
the word ‘imaginary’, and Ayasofya 1724 lacks both it and ‘imaginal’.
1. Not found in the two
manuscripts.
1. The reference here is to Qurʾān 27:62: ‘He answers the
distressed one when he supplicates Him, and He removes the evil.’
2. In Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings a Solitary
is a perfect human being who stands at the same level but outside the scope of
the Pole (quṭb); the latter governs the unseen
world of sanctity. See Chittick, Sufi Path of Knowledge,
p. 413, n. 23.
1. ‘Vision’ translates wāqiʿah, which means befaller,
happening, event, occurrence. In the Sufi vocabulary it denotes a true vision,
typically seen during wakefulness. The word is derived from the Qurʾānic verse, ‘When the
Befaller befalls, no one will deny its befalling’ (56:1).
2. By this expression Qūnawī is
referring to the full actualization of God’s goal in the creation of the
universe as announced in the famous ḥadīth qudsī, ‘I was a hidden treasure
and I desired to be known, so I created the creatures that I might be known.’
For more on Qūnawī’s teachings here, see Chittick and Peter Lamborn Wilson, Fakhruddīn ʿIrāqī: Divine Flashes (New York, 1982), the
discussion of ‘the perfection of distinct-manifestation and distinct-vision’,
pp. 23 ff.
1. On the two ‘faces’ (wajh) of all things, one directed at the Real and the other
at creation, see Chittick, Self-Disclosure, pp. 135
ff.
1. Reading ghaybī,
in keeping with Şehid ʿAlī Pāşā 1351 and an alternative reading offered in the
printed edition. Both the latter and Ayasofya 1724 have ʿaynī, in which case the meaning
would be not ‘unseen’, but ‘in entity’. This could mean ‘as fixed entities’
(i.e., invisible objects of divine knowledge) or ‘in their state of being
existent entities’ (i.e., as present in the universe).
Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī
The most important figure in the integration of the teachings of Ibn ʿArabī into the Shiʿi intellectual world was
Sayyid Ḥaydar
Āmulī. He was born in Māzandarān in 720/1320 to a distinguished family and it
was there that he received his earliest education, as we learn from two
autobiographical accounts which he has left us at the beginning of his major
Qurʾānic
commentary al-Muḥīṭ al-aʿẓam (The Supreme Ocean) and Naṣṣ
al-nuṣūṣ (The Text of Texts). We also learn that he went to Khurāsān and
Isfahan to pursue advanced studies, returning aged twenty-five to Āmul where he
became an important public and political figure. He even rose to the position
of wazir to the Bāwandid king Fakhr al-Dawlah, enjoying every possible success
in worldly life. But he had a religious conversion and a new yearning for God.
So he left everything behind, departing from Āmul with a simple cloak on his
back.
He went to Isfahan in
750/1349–50 with the aim of making the Ḥajj and stayed for a
while in the city frequenting only Sufi circles and becoming the disciple of a
Sufi master by the name of Nūr al-Dīn Ṭihrānī. Then in 751 Āmulī set out for Iraq and from there to Mecca and
Medina where he was planning to remain. However, for health reasons he returned
to the holy Shiʿi cities of Iraq where he passed the rest of his life. There he spent
some time studying with a number of Shiʿi authorities especially Fakhr al-Muḥaqqiqīn, the son of ʿAllāmah Ḥillī and a student of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī and Dabīrān-i Kātibī.
Āmulī himself became a leading theological figure of Shiʿism in Iraq. He never
returned to Persia and it was in Iraq that he died some time after 787/1385.
His life was, therefore, clearly divided into a Persian and an Iraqi period.
Some thirty-four works were
written by Āmulī in Arabic and Persian and three or four others are attributed
to him though their attribution is not certain. Most of his writings are,
however, lost. The major theme of his works is to demonstrate that in their
essential reality Sufism and Shiʿism are the same. He also provided a Shiʿi version of Ibn ʿArabian doctrines. Therefore, while praising
Ibn ʿArabī,
the Shaykh al-Akbar, in the highest terms, he differed
from him in the identification of the universal Muḥammadan ‘seals of sanctity’ (khātam al-walāyah/wilāyah). Ibn ʿArabī considered Jesus to be the universal
and himself the Muḥammadan ‘seal of sanctity’, whereas Āmulī believed these two functions
to have belonged to ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and the Mahdī respectively. Otherwise, on the discussion of wujūd, theophany, universal man and other major ʿirfānī doctrines, he followed Ibn ʿArabī closely.
Āmulī’s works include such
titles as Amthalat al-tawḥīd (Examples of Unity) which is a response to the Lamaʿāt (Divine Flashes) of ʿIrāqī; Talkhīṣ iṣṭilāḥāt al-ṣūfiyyah (Summary of the Technical Vocabulary of the Sufis) which is a new
rendition of the famous work of ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kāshānī of the same title; al-ʿIlm wa
taḥqīquhu (Knowledge and
its Realization) on the meaning of ʿilm according to the
theologians, philosophers and Sufis; and Risālat al-nafs fī
maʿrifat al-rabb (Treatise
of the Soul Concerning Knowledge of the Lord). The most important surviving
works of Āmulī, however, are as follows:
1.al-Risālah fī maʿrifat
al-wujūd (Treatise on the Knowledge of Being).
Written in 768/1367, this treatise is supposed to be a summary of a much larger
work whose manuscript has not as yet been located, but the extant treatise is
itself a major philosophical text dealing in depth with the philosophical
question of wujūd which is, however, treated in an ʿirfānī fashion distinct from the ontology of both Ibn Sīnā and Ibn Rushd.
2.al-Muḥīṭ al-aʿẓam (The Greatest Ocean),
a Qurʾānic
commentary in seven volumes completed in 777/1375–76. This great ʿirfānī commentary is a major work in its genre comparable to the esoteric
commentaries of Rūzbahān Baqlī, ʿAbd al-Razzāq Kāshānī Maybudī and Najm al-Dīn Kubrā. Āmulī states that
this book, like the Fuṣūṣ of Ibn ʿArabī, was not a creation
from him but was received as a creation from on high upon him.
3.Naṣṣ al-nuṣūṣ (The Text of Texts).
Completed in Baghdad in 782/1380–81, this treatise is a notable commentary upon
the Fuṣūṣ of Ibn ʿArabī. In this work there is lavish praise for Ibn ʿArabī along with the
Prophet and the Shiʿi Imams. Āmulī also uses diagrams, for which he had a propensity, to
complement his written words. As Corbin has said, Āmulī had the gift of
‘diagrammatic art’ which was meant not only to aid the memory but to be a
support for—in Corbin’s words—‘ars interiotativa’ or
‘ars meditativa’.1
In this chapter we have
included a major section of Āmulī’s most important work, Jāmiʿ
al-asrār (The Sum of Secrets). The work begins with
an exegesis of the concept of ‘Unity’ and continues by discussing some of the
manifestations of Divine Unity and the process of ‘Divine Self-disclosure.’ The
relationship between existence, reality and human
faculties are discussed next, both discursively and also based on what has been
transmitted by Sufi masters and gnostics. Āmulī then turns to the subject of
the essential unity of religions and offers a discourse on the harmony between
reason and revelation. This treatise ends with a brief discussion of what Āmulī
calls ‘Islam: its various levels’.
S. H. Nasr
1. Henry Corbin, En Islam iranien (Paris, 1972), vol. 3, p. 178.
THE SUM OF SECRETS AND THE SOURCE OF
LIGHTS1
Jāmiʿ al-asrār wa manbaʿ al-anwār
Translated for this volume by
Latimah-Parvin Peerwani from Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī, Kitāb Jāmiʿ
al-asrār wa manbaʿ al-anwār, critical
edition of the Arabic text in La Philosophie shiʿite, ed. with French introduction by Henry Corbin and Arabic introduction
by Osman Yahya (Tehran-Paris, 1969), pp. 210–228, 327–338, 685–691.
Ontology
The Unity of Being: tawḥīd
Etymologically and technically [the term] tawḥīd consists of ‘many
things becoming one thing’, or ‘to make many things into one thing’. It could
be cognitive (ʿilmī), practical, or the
gathering together of both, which is superior to the former two. That which is
cognitive is, for instance, many kinds subsumed under one species, or many
species subsumed under one genus, or many genera subsumed under one reality. I
mean, for instance, many classes of men and individual men subsumed under one
absolute species of man; or species of animals subsumed under one absolute
genus of animal; the animal [species] subsumed under one reality of the
universal body or the simple [or non-composite] body; many bodies subsumed
under one reality of the substance; and many substances subsumed under one
pure, sheer Being called the Absolute [Being].2
As for the practical [tawḥīd], it is, for instance,
many pharmacological drugs [combined] to make one paste; many names subsumed
under one name; many parts of minerals and plants [combined] to make one form
and one nourishment; many names subsumed under one name; four elements subsumed
under one nature or one body, etc. These examples, though remote from [our]
object, which in itself is something simple and nonmaterial (mujarrad), that is, the Absolute Being, non-determined, and
non-compound, whereas those varieties are compound things, and one cannot compare
the simple with the compound thing, this is a subtle point. [Our] object of
inquiry here is not with respect to its Essence only, so that it makes [the
above criterion] requisite, but it is [to consider] it from the point of its
self-manifestation (ẓuhūr), in the loci of
manifestation (maẓāhir). Since that is the case, there is no problem in presenting [those
analogies], because they are not remote from [our object sought], for in the
compound as well as in the simple there is none but He, as you have learned,
and will learn, God willing. Those similitudes, We coin them
for the people, but no one understands them save those who have knowledge
[29:43].
Another similitude: The
similitude of Existence [or Being] and its self-manifestation in the forms of loci
of manifestation is precisely the same as the similitude of ink and its
manifestation in the forms of letters [of a script]. Just as the manifestation
of ink in the form of letters does not detract its pure oneness and the oneness
of its reality, in the same way the self-manifestation of Existence in the
forms of existents does not detract from its pure oneness and the oneness of
its reality. If you have comprehended this, [then know that the] real oneness
[is witnessed] in these two forms, the form of ink and letters, or Existence
and existents, is understood by paying no attention to the multiple forms of
their loci of manifestation, i.e., halting at witnessing the reality of each
one of the two. I mean the oneness in the form of ink and letters may be
[witnessed] by ignoring the forms of all the letters, their demarcations and
multiplicity. This is witnessing the reality of the ink per se, because the
existence of the letters is something mentally posited (iʿitibārī); in reality they have no existence [of their own] externally, for in
truth it is only the ink which has existence externally. So is tawḥīd with regard to
Existence and existents. It is witnessed by not paying attention to the forms
of all existents, their entifications, and multiplicity. This is witnessing the
Existence per se because the existence of the existents is something mentally
posited; they have no existence [of their own] externally, for in reality the
existent externally is only the Existence named the Absolute Reality (al-Ḥaqq).
The knower (ʿārif) of the former only witnesses the ink in reality because of his
knowledge that the existence of all the letters are existent by [the ink], and
without it they are non-existent. There is nothing in the letters but [the
ink], for the letters are nothing but it. Likewise, the knower of the latter
[i.e., the Existence] only witnesses in reality the Existence because of his
knowledge that the existence of all the existents is through existence alone,
without existence they are non-existent. Nay, in the existence [there is none]
but existence. By [such a witnessing] the knower [of this reality] is ‘the
maker of [many things] into one’, [both] cognitively and intuitively (ʿaynan), in reality and metaphorically. This was the object of discussing tawḥīd in this station. God
is All-knowing of what is right. In the similarity of the ink and the letters
with regard to the Existence and its loci of manifestation, there are many
secrets. But this is not the place [to explain] them. We have alluded to it in
[our] Muntakhab al-taʾwīl1
in detail. Here we have indicated some of it.
If this is realized, then
know once again that the two things exist externally, and, according to
knowledgeable people, they are confined to the necessary and contingent. Their
becoming one reality in the form of these two aspects—that is, the cognitive
and practical—would be if the inquirer considers first the reality of
everything by returning it inductively to its root from which that thing has
issued until he reaches the sheer, pure Existence that is pure and subsists by
Itself, so that externally there is none but It. I mean, it is necessary for
the inquirer to consider every thing other than the Necessary (Being), until he
knows Its reality and he knows that the existence in each of the existents is
something relative to a thing and not a reality because it is additional to its
quiddity; additional to it from the Absolute Existence which is not related to
other than It. That is because if the Absolute (Being) is related to that which
is other than It, It comes forth from Its absoluteness. Also, other than the
Absolute Being is the sheer non-existence, so the Existence [or Being] is not
related to the non-existence. Hence if one negates existence from the quiddity
of the existents, one by one he will reach the Existence from which it is not
possible to negate Its existence from Its quiddity. That is because the
existence of the Necessary [Being] is Its quiddity itself, which is precisely
the same as Its reality, so it is not possible to negate it, for the
possibility of its negation is the possibility of negating the existence of
every existent other than It. And the possibility of negating every existent is
impossible, for that would necessitate the transformation of the reality of
existence into the reality of non-existence, and that is impossible. So the
negation of Its existence [that is, of the Necessary Being] from Its quiddity
is impossible. Since it is not possible to negate Its existence from Its
quiddity, but it is possible to negate from that which is other than It, then
from his consideration, that is, from the consideration of that inquirer, there
is none but the One Existence that is self-subsistent, and not related to other
than Itself. Therefore, his cognitive consideration would be a maker of the
reality of two existences as one existence. This in brief is the intention
behind the cognitive tawḥīd.
Detailed [explanation]: It
is incumbent to consider the reality of every existent and its existence, until
it is known from which aspect it is a creature and from which aspect it is the
Absolute (al-ḥaqq). For every existent
is Absolute in one aspect and creature in another. I mean, [it is] the Absolute
Reality with regard to Its reality, Its essence and Its
existence, and creature with regard to its determination (taʿayyun), individuality, and limitation. When one considers the reality of
things and their essences in this regard, that is, the consideration of the
knowledge of its reality, he comes to know that all return to one essence, and
that is the Absolute Being, or Reality, which is the merging of ascription and
relation [in Its essence]. The ascription and relation disappear at the
manifestation of the [Absolute], and the Object of relation and the related
[are perceived] united in existence. He sees the Absolute as self-subsisting,
and the creatures annihilated in It pre-eternally and post-eternally without
being stopped by the time and location. [This is] as His saying: Everything is annihilated except His Face [28:88].
If he considers the
determination of every existent and its individuality, also considering the
knowledge of its reality, he comes to know that the determinations and
individualities, though mentally posited entities additional to the reality of
the things and their quiddities, are not disappearing as such. But, as a matter
of fact, it cannot be otherwise. So he comes to know that all of that is
annihilated in itself, subsisting by Its Existence, as His saying: All that dwells upon the earth is undergoing annihilation, and
there subsists the Face of thy Lord, possessor of majesty and honour
[55:26–27]. By [this knowledge] he becomes a knower of the Absolute and
creatures, a knower of both. This is the final goal of the cognitive oneness,
as well as differentiation. Its simpler explanation will follow, God willing.
Practical tawḥīd: It is obtaining all
of it [mentioned above] through ‘witnessing’ and intuition, not by knowledge
and explication. I mean this knowledge is attained by a person through
‘tasting’ (dhawq), ‘witnessing’, ‘unveiling’, and
‘intuition’ (muʿāyanah); not through explication and demonstration (burhān).
As the Prophet, may God’s blessing and peace be upon him and upon his progeny,
said, ‘You shall see your Lord just as you see the moon on the night when it is
full.’1 Here ‘seeing’, according to the general understanding of the verifiers
(muḥaqqiqūn), means complete
[intellectual] unveiling and nothing else. There is no doubt that it is so,
because the witnessing of the Absolute and the things through [intellectual]
unveiling is clearer and more evident than witnessing the full moon by the
[sensible] vision and sense, because the senses are subject to error, whereas
the unveiling by its possessor is beyond that. However, the similitudes coined
from the objects of senses are for the people who rely upon the [external]
senses because they do not understand other than those. If there is someone who
is higher than them [in knowledge and understanding] he would understand [more]
from those [concrete similitudes] and other than them as degrees [of divine
Speech] which are unlimited. These are the peculiarities of the Speech (kalām) of God, the speech of His messengers and His friends
(awliyāʾ), that is, the share of each one is according to his measure
[knowledge and understanding].
In reality, He [the Exalted]
has alluded to this witnessing by His saying, We will show
them our signs upon the horizons and in their souls, until it is clear to them
that He is the Reality. Is it not enough that thy Lord is witness over every
thing? Are they still in doubt about the encounter with their Lord? Does not He
encompass everything? [41:53–54]. The preceding [means], He says: I will
anoint their insight by the light of My guidance and success (tawfīq) by which they will witness Me in My loci of
manifestation of horizons and souls, a witnessing which is an unveiling and
concrete, by that it would become clear to them that in the existence, whether
in the horizons or in the souls, there are only the traces (āthār)
of My Names, My Attributes, My loci of manifestation and My perfections. Thus
they will realize that I am the First, I am the Last, I am the Exterior, I am
the Interior, and that other than Me nothing has existence, be it mental or
extra-mental.
Affirming this meaning by
the way of astonishment and sarcasm, He said: Is it not
enough that thy Lord is witness over every thing? So that they know
through verification that He is the witness over every thing,
i.e., they verify witnessing Him in every thing, a witnessing [which is]
intuitive and through unveiling. He also said, Are they
still in doubt about the encounter with their Lord? Doesn’t He encompass every
thing? Meaning those worshippers are in doubt about the encounter with
their Lord in spite of this obvious witnessing of His loci of manifestation in
the horizons and in their souls. Now which encounter is greater than this? Does not He encompass every thing? That is: Does not He
encompass every thing by [His] Essence and Existence? Is it possible to witness
the encompassed without the existence of its Encompasser? That is: Is it
possible to witness the Exterior without the existence of His loci of
manifestation? This is the eternal religion, but most people
know not [12:40]. Meaning, this is the unveiling and clear witnessing (bayān), which is the real oneness (tawḥīd) and primordial religion (al-dīn al-ḥanīf), but most people, due to their ignorance
and blindness, know not that. Surely
in that there is a reminder for the one who has a heart, or will give an ear
while he is a witness [50:37], like the prophets, the friends [of God]
and the most perfect [men]. Because this witnessing, that is, witnessing the
Absolute in the creation and the creation in the Absolute without any one of
the two veiling the other, is the greatest witnessing and the ultimate goal [of
the wayfarers]. This is their witnessing and the witnessing of those of their
kind from among the most perfect [mystics] and the [spiritual] Poles. May God
the Exalted give us the provision to attain it!
The possessor of this
witnessing is called by the group [of gnostics] the ‘possessor of reason’ (dhu’l-ʿaql) and the ‘possessor
of intuition’ (dhu’l-ʿayn), having both reason and intuition together. They also allude to it in
their saying that ‘the possessor of reason’ is one who sees the creation as
exterior (ẓāhir) and the Absolute
as interior (bāṭin). The Absolute becomes the mirror for the creation before him, because
the mirror by its exterior form veils itself in itself, [i.e.,] the Absolute is veiled by the limited. Whereas the possessor of
intuition is the one who sees the Absolute as exterior and the creation as
interior, so the creation becomes the mirror of the Absolute for the self-manifestation
of the Reality before him and the concealment (ikhtifāʾ) of the creation in form
in It. But the possessor of reason and intuition is the one who sees the
Reality in the creation and the creation in the Reality, neither of the two
veils the other. Rather, he sees One Existence identical to the Reality in one
respect, and the creation in another respect. He is not veiled by the
multiplicity from witnessing the ‘Face’ of the One Unique, nor does the
multiplicity become an obstacle [for him] in witnessing the multiple loci of
manifestation of the oneness of the Essence that self-discloses (tajallī) Itself in them; nor does the oneness of the ‘Face’
of the Reality veil him from witnessing its self-disclosure in its multiple
receptacles of self-disclosure (majālī). The perfect
Shaykh Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī,1 may God sanctify the core of his heart (sirr),
alludes to these three levels in his verses:
Thus in the creation see the Reality Itself,
if you are a possessor of intuition,
And in the Reality you see
the creation itself,
if you are a possessor of
reason.
But if you are a possessor
of both intuition and reason,
then you see nothing therein
but the Essence of one thing in it by form.2
The second aspect: He
would know that the existential oneness [or unity] is witnessing the existence
of the Reality from the respect of being Absolute and determined,
Non-differentiated and differentiated, and the two aspects gathered together as
such that the witnessing of the one does not veil the other. That is because if
he stops at one of the two, he becomes veiled from the other and exits from the
cycle of oneness. For anyone who witnesses His Existence and His Essence from
the aspect of He qua He, transcended from all the
limitations (al-quyūd), independent of all mental
positing, and as Absolute and Non-differentiated, says: ‘There is none in
existence except He’, because other than Him is absolute nonexistence and sheer
nothing. But by that he is veiled by Being and Essence from the Names and
Attributes and their differentiated and non-differentiated perfections in their
loci of manifestations. So he limits [Him] by the limits of absoluteness and
non-differentiation and is pleased by half gnosis.
So
also he who witnesses Him in every locus of manifestation from His Names, His
Attributes, and His Acts, and says: ‘this is the locus of the manifestation of
[His] gentleness’, ‘this is the locus of manifestation of [His] severity’,
‘this is the locus of manifestation of [His] majesty’, and does not witness Him
disengaged from them, that is, from these loci of manifestation, that no
distinction between the Manifest and the locus of manifestation, between the
Essence and Attributes is attained by him, and he determines Him by that and
differentiates Him in His loci of manifestation, and says, ‘He is all, and
there is none in existence but Him’, he is also veiled by the loci of
manifestation and the loci of theophany. He limits [Him] by differentiation and
determination, and is pleased by the other half of gnosis.
If he combines the two and
witnesses Him as Absolute (muṭlaq) and determined (muqayyad), Undifferentiated
(mujmal) and differentiated (mufaṣṣal), that is, Absolute in determined and determined in Absolute,
Undifferentiated in differentiated and differentiated in Undifferentiated, and
neither of the two veils him from the other, he becomes a gnostic, perfect and
perfecter; a witnesser who witnesses with clear intuition and ‘taste’ (dhawq) that there is none in existence but God (the
Exalted), His Names, and His Attributes. He comes to know by verification that
all is He, that all is by Him, from Him, and [returns] to Him. Then he recites
correctly His words by the tongue of [his spiritual] state: He
is the First, He is the Last, He is the Exterior, He is the Interior, and He is
the All-Knowing of everything [57:3]. He becomes cognizant with
certainty about the meaning of His words: God is the Light
of the heavens and the earth, the similitude of His Light is that of a lamp in
a niche, the lamp is in a glass, the glass is like a glittering star kindled
from a blessed tree, an olive that is neither of the East nor of the West
[24:35]. May God give us provision to arrive at this station by Muḥammad and his noble
progeny.
In other words, this
(station) is of witnessing the Absolute from the respect of one and many,
gathering and differentiation, and the combination of the two. If he were to
witness one Being bereft of all multiplicities of Names and Acts, then he
witnesses Him as He is at the level of His Essence. At the level of His
Essence, He is qualified by all perfections pre-eternally and post-eternally.
One of His perfections is His manifestation in the forms of all existents and
their meanings (maʿānī), pre-eternally and post-eternally. By that (particular witnessing),
He becomes veiled by His Essence from His perfections, and by His Being from
His specifications. If he witnesses One Being multiplied by these
multiplications, determined by these determinations, he will not obtain the
difference between multiplicity and unity, and distinction between
differentiation and gathering [of the Being]. In this case he will not witness
what He is from the aspect of oneness and gathering, because at the level of His
Essence He transcends multiplicity and determinations absolutely. I mean, [He
transcends] external and mental (determinations of existence). Rather, all that
is from His perfections of Names and Attributes refer to His Essence at the second degree of the level of Being.1 The possessor of
this particular witnessing also becomes veiled from His Essence by His
perfections of Names, and from His Being by His specifications of Attributes.
This is like the former [state], and is not praiseworthy.
If he combines the two
degrees as such that one does not veil the other, I mean, the unity is not
veiled by the multiplicity, and gathering by discrimination, he becomes
unifier, gnostic, perfect, the possessor of discrimination (al-furqān)
specific to Moses and Jesus, peace be upon them, and of the (linking, al-Qurʾān) specific to Muḥammad, may the
benediction of God be upon him and his progeny. For al-furqān
is discriminated knowledge specific to Moses and Jesus, peace be upon them, and
al-Qurʾān is the sum of
knowledge together with discriminated knowledge specific to Muḥammad, peace be upon him.
For Qurʾān etymologically means
‘linking’. We have already explained that in detail in our treatise titled Muntakhab al-taʾwīl.
Its explanation according to
the measure of this station: He the Exalted said: If you are
God-fearing he will give you discrimination (furqān)
[8:29], that is, if you are God-fearing and cautious in my gnosis and worship
from the manifest polytheism and hidden polytheism, then I will make you the
possessor of discrimination. That is, I will gift you and grant you knowledge
which discriminates between real and false; a consideration which integrates
the creation and the Reality, with a perfect discrimination between the One who
manifests and the object of manifestation such that you witness Me as Exterior
in precisely the Interior and Interior in precisely the Exterior, the First in
precisely the Last and as the Last in precisely the First. So it is in regard
to the degrees of unity and multiplicity, discrimination and gathering etc.
from the divine degrees which are the higher degrees of witnessing by the
prophets and friends [of God], peace be upon them. The God-fearing has levels,
the lowest being cautious of illicit, and the highest being absolutely cautious
of witnessing other [than God] called polytheism, be it manifest or hidden.
[This cautiousness] necessitates obtaining the knowledge of ‘discrimination’
and ‘integration’, and leads to the real Muḥammadan unity tawḥīd, mentioned earlier.
To this kind of tawḥīd, the great master Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī, may God sanctify
his secret heart (sirr), says in his words: ‘Beware
of Gathering and Differentiation! The first one inherits heresy (al-zandaqah) and deviation (al-ilḥād), the second one inherits the non-operation of the Absolute Agent. You
should safeguard both. The gatherer of the two is a real man of unification,
and he is called [the possessor of the station] of “gathering of gathering”,
and the gatherer of all. He has [attained] the highest degree and ultimate
goal.’
This
distinction and gathering [or unifying] are from the second distinction and
gathering which is witnessing the subsistence of the creation by the Reality,
the vision of unity in multiplicity and multiplicity in unity without its
possessor being veiled from one by the other. It is not the first (distinction
and gathering) which is the Absolute being veiled by the creation, and the
subsistence of the creational descriptions in their state. It is also said
concerning it: The gathering without distinction is heresy, and distinction
without gathering is making ineffectual (the gathering), and gathering together
with distinction is tawḥīd. This is not hidden from its Folk, but it is an admonition for some
seekers.
Who grasps my saying, his perception will not dim,
Nor may one grasp it save he
be endowed with perception.
Whether you assert unity or
distinction, the Self is unique,
As also the Many that are
and yet are not.1
Since this is verified
that the intention behind the gathering of gathering is the unification of
distinction after the gathering, then know that the station of gathering is an
exalted station, and there is no station and no degree higher than it, and no
ascent of any one of the prophets and friends [of God], peace be upon them,
higher than this level. That is because this degree is the end, and above the
end there cannot be any end, otherwise the end will have an end. This is the
intention behind the praiseworthy station or nearer
[53:9], ‘the spiritual ascent (al-miʿrāj
al-maʿnawī)’, ‘the real
arrival’ (al-wuṣūl al-ḥaqīqī) [in the Divine presence] etc. from the indications [given in some
sayings of the realized ones]. It is said concerning it, ‘There is no village
beyond ʿAbbadān’.
The Commander of the faithful [ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib], peace be upon him, alluding to this [station] said in his
saying: ‘Even if the veil is removed completely [from the Absolute], my
certitude [in the Absolute] will not increase.’2 Concerning this state
the great master [Ibn ʿArabī] said in his Fuṣūṣ, ‘If you have
experienced this [in the spirit] you have experienced as much as is possible
for a created being, so do not seek nor weary yourself in any attempt to
proceed higher than this, for there is nothing higher, nor is there beyond the
point you have reached aught except the pure un-manifested [Absolute].’3
Further in regard to this [station] he said: ‘Though this be [the eternal
truth] of the matter, none knows it [directly] save certain among the elite of
the friends [of God]. Should you meet one who possesses such knowledge you may
have complete confidence in him, for he is a rare gem among the elite of the
Folk.’1 Praise belongs to God, who guided us unto this; had
God not guided us, we had surely never been guided [7:41].
Know that the similitude of
Absolute Existence or the Reality, may He be exalted, is like a limitless
ocean, while the determined things and existents are like innumerable waves and
rivers. Just as the waves and the rivers are nothing other than the unfolding
of the sea according to the forms of its perfections which it possesses qua water as well as its peculiarities which it possesses qua sea, so are the existents and determined things nothing
other than the unfolding of the Absolute under the forms of its essential
perfections as well as its peculiarities belonging to Its Names.
Further, the waves and the
rivers are not the sea in one respect, while in
another respect they are not other than it. In fact, the waves and rivers are
different from the sea [only] in respect of their being entified and
determined. But they are not different from it in respect to [their] reality
and essence which is pure water, because from this aspect they are identical to
it. So are the existents and determined things, because although they are
different from the Absolute in being entified and determined, they are not
different from it in respect to their essence and reality which is existence.
So from the [latter] respect they are identical to It. Some verses already
mentioned have been said in this context:2
The sea is sea as it was from eternity,
but the contingent things
are its waves and rivers.
Do not let the forms which
it resembles veil you from the One,
that takes form within them
for these are [Its] veils.
Its explanation in
detail: The sea, when it is entified by the form of the wave, is called a wave,
when entified by the form of the river it is called a river, and when entified
by the form of the brook it is called a brook. In the same way it is called
rain, snow, ice, etc. when it is entified by those forms. However, in reality,
there is absolutely nothing but the sea or water, because the wave, river,
brook, etc. are merely the linguistic names indicating the sea. In truth [the
sea in its unconditioned reality] bears no name or description. Nay, the word
‘sea’ is its name from sheer linguistic convention.
Exactly the same is true [of
Existence]. If the Existence or the Reality is determined by a determination,
it is named by it. Its first [determination] is called the Intellect,
the next one the Soul, then the spheres, then the Body, then the natures, then
the ‘off-springs’ [i.e., the three kingdoms, mineral, plant and animal], etc.
However in reality, there is neither the Intellect nor the Soul nor the sphere,
because these are the linguistic names indicating the Reality or the Existence
[entified by those forms]. In truth, It bears no name or description [in Its
un-entified reality], as mentioned earlier when discussing Its attribute.
Nay, the word ‘Reality’ (ḥaqq) or ‘Existence’ (wujūd) is its name from the
linguistic convention according to His saying: Those whom
you worship beside Him are but names which you have named, you and your
fathers. God has revealed no sanction for them. The decision rests with God
only, Who has commanded you that you worship none save Him. That is the eternal
religion, but most men know not [12:40]. By God! Again by God! Even if
there had not been any other verse in the Book of God except this, it would
have been a sufficient demonstration [from the divine guidance] for the
elimination of multiplicity and affirming [His] tawḥīd called the ‘eternal religion’, but most men know
not due to their ignorance and blindness.
Ḥaydar Āmulī’s commentary on ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib’s saying on tawḥīd
One of the conversations [of Imam ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib] not mentioned in
the Nahj [al-balāghah], but
[one which] is quite famous is the one which is addressed to Kumayl ibn Ziyād,
may God be pleased with him. It starts with [Kumayl] questioning him:
‘What is Reality (al-ḥaqīqah)?’
‘What hast thou to do with
Reality?’
‘Am I not your confidant?’
‘Yes! But whatever overflows
from me will sprinkle on you.’
‘Can someone like thee
frustrate the one who quests [for something] from him?’
‘Reality is the unveiling of
the splendours of Divine Majesty to which no allusion is possible.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘It is the obliteration of
conjectures when the Object of knowledge becomes evident.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘The curtain is rent by the
triumph of the [spiritual] secret (sirr).’
‘Tell me more.’
‘The [essential] Unitude (aḥadiyyah) attracts him to
Unity (tawḥīd) by [its] attribute.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘A light has shone since the
dawn of pre-eternity. It flashes its traces (āthār)
on the temples of Unity.
‘Extinguish the lamp, the
morning has come.’1
This conversation [of the
Imam] has been given many meanings in the commentaries. The essence of this
[conversation] in brief is that [the Imam] is alluding to the
Self-manifestation (ẓuhūr) of the Exalted in
the forms of loci of manifestation (maẓāhir), and their non-existence [in themselves] along with their existence (thubūtuhā) [through Him].
[The Imam] said: ‘[Reality]
is the unveiling of the splendours of Divine Majesty to which no allusion is
possible.’
This [statement] alludes to
the removal of the [veil of] multiple names after the [veil of] creaturely
multiplicity, interpreted as the loci of manifestation, has been removed. [To
this unveiling], neither the rational nor the sensory allusion is possible.
This is a beautiful secret which indicates the divine Encompassment and [its]
absoluteness, for the absolute Encompassment is not subject to allusion at all,
because that is not possible. Nay, it is absolutely impossible.
[The Imam] subjected the
splendours of Divine Majesty under [the splendours of] Divine Beauty. This is
because the [splendours of] Divine Majesty are specific to the divine names and
qualities, whereas the [splendours of] Divine Beauty are specific to the Divine
Essence (dhāt) only. [The pair are also called by the
names and qualities of] severity (qāhariyyah) and
gentleness (laṭīfah) as you have already learned. In either case, it is more appropriate
that the splendours of Divine Majesty be prior to the splendours of Divine
Beauty because the unveiling of the splendours of Divine Beauty is only
possible after the [unveiling] of the splendours of Divine Majesty. This is the
spiritual travel (sulūk) from multiplicity to Unity,
from the creation to Reality. This [interpretation] is very much agreeable to
the majority [of gnostics].
[The Imam] said: ‘It is the
elimination of all the conjectures when the Object of knowledge becomes
evident.’
This [statement] also
alludes to the removal of the loci of manifestation (maẓāhir) and witnessing in them the Manifest (al-ẓāhir) in reality. For when the spiritual traveller witnesses the effacement
of the fantasies which are other than [the Reality] called the [estimative]
creations, and are nothing but the empty fantasy imprint[s] that have become
firmly settled and deeply rooted in him due to the domination of [his]
estimative faculty (quwwat al-wahm), with the Devil (shayṭān, i.e., fantasy) over
him when he (witnesses) their total lifting from him, then the Object of his
knowledge which is the Absolute, the Exalted, becomes clear
of estimative doubts and suspicions. He becomes completely liberated from
[this] veil. By this I mean the horizon of his heart and spirit becomes clear
of the clouds of creational multiplicity as the sky becomes clear when the
clouds disappear. Then the Absolute manifests among them as the manifestation
of the sun after the dispersion of the clouds in the sky. He witnesses the
Reality as clearly as he witnesses the full moon according to the saying of the
Prophet, upon him and his progeny be peace and salutation, ‘You will see your
Lord just as you see the moon on the night when it is full.’1
[The Imam] said, ‘The
curtain is rent by the triumph of the [spiritual] secret (sirr).’
This [statement] has two
meanings: One, when this secret overpowers him, it is impossible for his spirit
to hold its secret like [the state of Manṣūr] al-Ḥallāj2 and the others. Nay,
he does not mind expressing it. It is quite possible that it is expressed
involuntarily by him like the actions of the intoxicated in the external form.
Alluding to [such a state, the Imam] said: ‘But whatever overflows from me will
sprinkle on you.’ The other meaning is, when this secret overpowers him he does
not pay attention to the veils which are the loci of [His] manifestation.
Rather, he only witnesses in them the Manifest. At this stage [of the spiritual
wayfaring, the traveller] only desires to remove the veils from the face of the
Beloved and tear them completely, that is, to take them off and lift them from
him. The latter meaning is more related to the subject that we are in the
process of affirming than the former.
And what [the Imam] said
next, ‘the [essential] Unitude attracts him to Unity by [its] attribute’,
proves our point. For he says: the essential Unitude (al-aḥadiyyah
al-dhātiyyah), which is not subject to
multiplicity, attracts him to unadulterated Unity and pure Oneness, which is
the Divine Presence of gathering and the station of the annihilation of the
lover in the Beloved. Its explanation will soon follow. Once [the spiritual
traveller] crosses this station, then he commences [his travel] in the
attribute of His Self-manifestation and differentiations (tafāṣīl). This is the station of ‘dispersion’ (farq)
[experienced] after [the station] of ‘gathering (jamʿ).’
[The Imam] said, ‘A light
has shone since the dawn of pre-eternity. It flashes its effects on the temples
of Unity.’
That means that the
Absolute, called Reality (ḥaqīqah), is the Light
which illuminates, i.e., it manifests from the direction of the dawn of
pre-eternity, [and] it is the Absolute [Divine] Essence. ‘It flashes on the
temples of Unity’, i.e., it manifests on all the loci of manifestation of
existence by Its traces, acts, perfections, and particular traits. These are
the reports about the self-manifestation of the Divine Essence in the loci of
Names and Attributes in pre-eternity and post-eternity, witnessing the [Divine] Oneness in multiple forms, witnessing the [Divine]
Gathering (jamʿ) in the very differentiations [of forms] and
the existence of differentiations [of forms] in the [Divine] Gathering itself,
as mentioned earlier. This is the highest spiritual station. There is no
[higher] witnessing beyond this [witnessing] which is expressed [by Imam ʿAlī] in his saying, ‘Even
if the veil is removed completely [from the Absolute], my certitude [in the
Absolute] will not increase.’1 The others [in this station] have said,
‘There is no other village beyond ʿAbbādān.’
This is precisely the
reason, when [Kumayl] desired more explanation about this [level, the Imam]
said, ‘Extinguish the lamp, the morning has come.’ That means: extinguish the
lamp of rational inquiry (ʿaql) and verbal
questioning [about this level] at the rising of the dawn of spiritual unveiling
and witnessing the ‘Face’ of Reality in it. That is because the spiritual
unveiling is not dependent on rational thought and its perception, just as the
dawn does not need the lamp and its irradiation [for its illumination]. For a
concrete proof requires no further explanation [according to the proverb],
‘There is no information better than personal observation.’
If you say: these words are
strange, unusual, and contrary [to our common experience]; we do not understand
their meaning, nor do we find a way to comprehend them; speak to us in a
simpler way, or in the form of similitude nearer to our mind, so that we
understand it and obtain from it our goal and aim, because we only witness this
[concrete] world and these different, contradictory multiplicities which are
[always] in a state of flux and extinction; we only know that they are not
Reality and are the creatures, but you say they are Reality, and in existence
there is only the Exalted Reality, and all that [you see] is [Its] loci of
manifestation; you say that between It and Its loci of manifestation there is
no difference in reality; this matter is too difficult [to comprehend] and
[this kind of] speech is too subtle [to understand] so we do not know its
meaning; we can only differentiate between these multiplicities and the
Absolute the Exalted by the way already expressed by us. [Between what you say
and what we say] there is a wide gulf.
I say: This matter
[concerning Reality and Its multiple loci of manifestation] is very simple. Its
perception is very easy and its meaning is absolutely clear. It has been
mentioned repeatedly [but you have not comprehended it] because you are sunk
deep in the darkness of [your] nature (ṭabīʿah) and lowest human
levels. Nay, [you are sunk] in the lowest degree of [unthinking] conformism (taqlīd) and that is the greatest of all the veils [between
you and the Absolute]. In fact, in relation to those people who understand this
meaning, you are like a fetus confined to the prison of the womb in comparison
to a discriminative child, a discriminative child in comparison to an
intelligent person, an intelligent person in comparison to an ʿālim [a scholar of religious learning], an ʿālim in comparison to a gnostic (ʿārif), a gnostic in
comparison to a perfect friend [of God] (walī), or a walī in comparison to the prophet. There is a great
difference among these degrees. That is why He, the Exalted, said, Lo! herein verily is a reminder for men of understanding
[39:20].
But even the followers of
shells (arbāb al-qushūr), i.e., the externalists (ahl al-ẓāhir) and rationalists (ahl al-ʿuqūl), do not crave [to
know the above matter], because in relation to the prophets, the friends [of
God], and the perfect men who are the kernel of the kernels, they are like the
shell in relation to the kernel. Anyhow, we will start once again to explain to
you [this matter], nay we will repeat it several times in the best possible way
with more deft similitudes, and will endeavour to make you understand this
[matter].
We say: Know that if you are
convinced that there is only one Existence, and it is Absolute, not determined,
and that determined things are related to It, then you have learned that
determined things have no real existence [of their own] because their existence
is a connective relation. It consists of the relation of the Absolute to the
determined, (that is, this relative) has no external reality [of its own].
You have also learned that
the Absolute is determined (by being entified, but) in another respect, the
determined is Absolute along with having the determination of relation; that in
the external world there is nothing but the Absolute [Existence]. For if you
drop [Its] relation by connection to all the existents, you will find the
Existence in its unadulterated Unity and pure Absoluteness, and you will find
the determined is existent through the Absolute [Existence], and non-existent
without It. This is the meaning of their [i.e., the Sufis’] saying, ‘Tawḥīd means the elimination
of all relations.’
Its identical similitude,
that is, the similitude of that Absolute with the determined, and its
Existentiality with its non-existentiality, is like the sun with shadows. They
are existent through it at its manifestation and at its occultation. For
shadows do not have existence except through the sun. If the sun were not to
be, the shadows would not have existence, although when the sun manifests by
itself then shadows do not have existence, because their existence is through
the sun. They become invisible by its orb and rays, for when it manifests by
its orb and rays, the shadows are annihilated, and following that their
existence disappears. When (the sun) is concealed from them by its essence and
orb, its trace becomes manifest and its existence subsists. Thus it becomes a
shadow entified by the sun as shadowy existence.
So in reality only the sun
and its trace have existence and the shadows are only in name and concept. The
names and concept are privations; they do not have external existence. So is
the existence of all existent things in relation to the Absolute. When the
Absolute manifests by Its existence, there does not remain existence for the
creatures. That is because the existence of the creatures, as discussed
earlier, is only a relative, mentally posited existence, and the relative and
mentally posited are not existent externally.
So the real existence is
only for the Absolute. This is the meaning of His words: Everything is annihilated except His Face [28:88]; I mean
everything related to Him is annihilated in itself except His Essence, for that
is abiding and eternal. To Him belongs the property
[28:88], that is, to Him belong the real eternal subsistence, and to Him you shall be returned [28:88], that is, to Him
will return these existents after the removal of the relativities. According to
the understanding [of the Folk of God], ‘Face’ is the (divine) Essence. Hence,
according to this appraisal, everything is annihilated
except His Face and wherever you turn, there is the
Face of God [2:109]. That is why He said: Everyone
upon it is undergoing annihilation, and there subsists the Face of the Lord,
possessor of majesty and generous giving [55:26–27]. By ‘upon it’, it is
meant the reality of Being by which the existents subsist. The exegesis of
these two verses has been given repeatedly. The truth is, these two verses
after His sayings, God is the Light of the heavens and the
earth [24:35], and We shall show them Our signs upon
the horizons and in their souls until it is clear to them that He is the
Reality [41:53] are some of the greatest verses of the Qurʾān, and most eminent in
the context of tawḥīd and its reality. Those likenesses We coin them for
the people, but no one understands them save those who have knowledge
[29:43].
If you say: This example is
not in accordance with your claim. For you said the shadows do not exist except
after the absence of the sun from them. Further, you said the creatures do not
exist except by the existence of Reality. Nay, you said the creatures are
Reality according to some consideration and they are creatures according to
another consideration. But the shadows are not like that. For a shadow is not
the sun in any respect. To this I say: One aspect is enough in the example [to
prove the point] and that is, the shadows do not have existence except by the
sun, and its concealment from them is by its orb and essence. So are the
creatures (in relation to Reality). For the creatures do not have existence
except by the Reality, and Its concealment from them is in essence and reality.
Just as the concealment of the sun consists of the subsistence of the shadow in
itself and by its determination, and its presence consists of the annihilation
of the shadow and its non-existence, likewise the concealment of Reality
consists of the subsistence of the creatures in themselves and by their
limitation, and Its presence consists of their annihilation and non-existence.
Explanation of sharīʿah, ṭarīqah and ḥaqīqah
Know that sharīʿah (the law) is the name for the rules of the divine path. It consists of
roots and branches; permissions and resolutions; [actions considered] good and
excellent. As for the ṭarīqah (spiritual path),
it is the way of maximum precaution, the path of the best and surest [action].
Thus any path that leads man to the best and surest [way] in speech or action,
and to [the actualization of] an attribute or [the experience of] a [spiritual]
state (ḥāl) is called ṭarīqah. As for the ḥaqīqah (reality and
truth), it is the affirmation of the [existence] of a thing either through
unveiling, or intuition, or through [experiencing] a [spiritual] state or
consciousness (wijdān). That
is why it is said, [the meaning of] sharīʿah is that you worship Him, of ṭarīqah that you attain
His Presence, and of ḥaqīqah that you witness
Him.1
Furthermore, it has been
said that sharīʿah means that His command makes you subsist; ṭarīqah means that you subsist by His command, and ḥaqīqah that you subsist by Him. The complete meaning [of sharīʿah, ṭarīqah and ḥaqīqah] is testified in the conversation of the Prophet, upon him and his
progeny be peace and benediction, with Ḥārith ibn Mālik al-Anṣārī. The Prophet asked him, ‘O Ḥārith, how are you this morning?’ He answered, ‘I have become a true
believer.’ He, on him be peace, said, ‘For every belief there is a reality, so
what is the reality of your belief?’ He replied, ‘I saw the people of the
Garden visiting each other and the people of the Fire howling at each other; I
saw distinctly the Throne of my Lord.’ He, on him be peace, said, ‘You have
spoken correctly, so adhere to it.’2
Now, his faith in the unseen
was truly sharīʿah, his seeing the Garden and the Fire through unveiling and ecstasy was ḥaqīqah; his renunciation [of pleasure] in the world, his night vigils [for
worship], and his thirst [for God] were his ṭarīqah. The religion (sharʿ) is inclusive of all
these [levels]. It is like the complete almond nut which consists of the oil,
the kernel, and the shell. The almond as a whole is like the sharīʿah, the kernel is like
the ṭarīqah, and the oil like the ḥaqīqah. The same is also said for the prayer (ṣalāh): the ṣalāh is service [to
God], coming closer [to God], and arrival [in His Presence]. ‘The service’
corresponds to the sharīʿah, ‘coming closer’ to Him is the ṭarīqah, and the ‘union’ (al-waṣlah, [with the Divine]) to the ḥaqīqah. The name ṣalāh is inclusive of all these [levels]. God has said about this unveiling
in the aforementioned degrees in His Book, Nay, if you had
known the knowledge of certitude, then you would have seen the hellfire. Then
you would have seen it with the vision of certitude [102:5–7]; and Lo! This is real certitude [56:95]. The first [degree]
corresponds to the sharīʿah, the second to the ṭarīqah, and the third to
the ḥaqīqah.
Further, know that sharīʿah is an expression for
affirming in the heart the veracity of the acts of the prophets and acting
according to them; ṭarīqah is an expression
for the realization of their acts and character-traits by action and performing
what is worthy of them; and ḥaqīqah is witnessing
their states by ‘taste’ and by being described by them because he [i.e.,
Prophet Muḥammad] is a good model according to His saying, You
have a good model in the Messenger of God [33:21]. They cannot be
actualized but through them, that is, through observing
these degrees [of Revelation] as they really are. Indeed a ‘good model’ is an
expression for the one who undertakes to fulfil the requirements of all the
dimensions of his Revelation which is inclusive of the sharīʿah, ṭarīqah and ḥaqīqah.1 [The Prophet], on him and his progeny be peace and benediction, said,
‘The sharīʿah is my words, ṭarīqah my actions, ḥaqīqah my states, gnosis
(maʿrifah) my capital, reason
the root of my religion, love my foundation, yearning (shawq)
my mount, fear my companion, knowledge my weapon, forbearance my friend, trust
my cloak, contentment my treasure, truthfulness my way-station, certitude my
refuge, poverty my honour, for by it I attained an honour above the rest of the
prophets and messengers.’ Therefore, whoso desires to make his prophet his
foundation as it is requisite then it is necessary that he should be described
by all these qualities or some of them according to the measure of his
preparedness, and never refuse to acknowledge anyone who is described by these
qualities. That is because the source of all [the revelations] is one reality
which is the prophetic Revelation and the Divine Law, although the [particular]
divine laws differ.
In reality these levels are
the requisites of the other levels which correspond to their principle. The sharīʿah, in reality, is the
requisite of the messenger-ship; the ṭarīqah is the requisite
of the prophethood; and the ḥaqīqah is the requisite
of friendship [with God, wilāyah]. Messenger-ship
consists of conveying what the individual obtained from prophet-hood, such as
the laws, administration, cultivation through ethics, and teaching by wisdom.
This is precisely the sharīʿah. The prophet-hood consists of expressing what one obtains from wilāyah (friendship with God), such as cognizance of the
gnosis of the essence of the Real, His names, attributes, acts and properties
for His worship so that they are attributed by His Attributes, and obtain the
character-traits [which reflect] His character-traits. This is precisely the ṭarīqah. The wilāyah consists of witnessing
pre-eternally and post-eternally His Essence, Attributes, and Acts in the loci
of manifestation of His perfection, and in the receptacles of (His)
Self-disclosures in His entifications. This is precisely the ḥaqīqah. All [three] refer to one reality which is the reality of man
described by them, or to one individual such as the foremost in greatness among
the messengers, for they are likewise.
The intention behind divine
Revelation (al-sharʿ al-ilāhī), and prophetic enactment is one reality inclusive of all these
degrees, that is, sharīʿah, ṭarīqah, and ḥaqīqah. These names are applied to them as synonyms and as different
expressions [of the same reality].
The similitudes of that in
other than this form are plenty. For instance, the names ‘intellect’,
‘knowledge’, and ‘light’ apply to one reality which is the reality of man as macrocosm. As it is recorded in some reports, ‘The
first thing that God the Exalted created was the intellect’,1
and ‘the first thing that God created was my light’;2 and the names such
as ‘the centre of the heart’ (al-fuʾād), ‘the heart’ (al-qalb), and ‘the breast’ (al-ṣadr) also point to the
one reality (which is the reality of) man as microcosm as [is indicated by] the
saying of the Exalted: His heart (fuʾād) lies
not about what he saw [53:11]; and It was brought
down by the Faithful Spirit upon thy heart (qalb) [26:193–194], and Did We not expand thy breast (ṣadr) [94:1], and in addition to these are
the proofs and similitudes recorded in this context.
That is why among the
prophets and the friends [of God], peace be upon them, no contradiction has
occurred in the general foundation and the real root [of religion]. This
[understanding] is the pillar of religion and principle of Islam. As He, the
Exalted, said: He has laid down for you as religion that
which He charged Noah with, and that We have revealed to thee [O Muḥammad],
and that We charged Abraham with, and Moses, and Jesus: Perform the religion,
and scatter not regarding it [42:13]; and His
saying: The same did Abraham enjoin upon his sons, and also
Jacob, [saying]: O my sons! God has chosen for you the religion; see that you
die not except you are surrendered (muslimūn) [unto
Him] [2:132]; and, this is My straight path, so
follow it, and follow not diverse paths, lest they scatter you from its road
[6:153], and then His saying which is the sum of all, this
is the eternal religion, but most people know not [12:40], that is, they
do not know that observing the three pillars (i.e., sharīʿah, ṭarīqah, and ḥaqīqah) and fulfilling the requirements of each is the ‘eternal religion’ and
the ‘straight path’. The cause of [people not observing the three pillars
completely] is nothing but their ignorance and distance from the Real, and
their expulsion from His threshold.
If it is understood that
there has never been any contradiction among the prophets and the friends [of
God], on them be peace, regarding the general matters and roots of the
Religion, though there has been contradiction in the particular [divine] laws
and formal acts, then it is requisite to know that the differences in quality
and quantity of a thing do not indicate any difference in their essence and
reality. It is also (necessary to) know that the reality [or the essence] of
the Divine Revelation has been the same in all ages and locations; indeed it is
untouched by contention and difference, though there has been variation in
rules and laws according to [different] levels [of understanding of people],
and [different types] of individuals.3
1. Content in square brackets
is from the translator.
2. The central thesis of
Āmulī’s metaphysical thought which dominates his entire Jāmiʿ al-asrār and this section is his
metaphysics of Being or Existence (wujūd) which is an
integration of Ibn ʿArabī’s metaphysics of ‘Being’ with Shiʿi theosophy. Being, according
to him, is the sole, absolute, all-comprehensive Reality that permeates the
whole universe. The phenomenal forms, or ‘essences’, are nothing but the
internal modifications under which the absolute Reality reveals itself in the
empirical dimension of human experience. Such a vision of Reality and the
experience of Being, according to him, are obtainable as an actual experience
only by a mode of cognition called by him by various terms, such as kashf (unveiling), shuhūd
(witnessing), dhawq (tasting) etc. He who obtains
such a vision of Reality in its double aspects is called ‘a man of two eyes’.
He is a man who with his one eye ‘sees’ the divine Unity, while with his other
eye he ‘sees’ the Multiplicity, i.e., the world of phenomenal things or
essences. Simultaneously he ‘witnesses’ that these two are ultimately one and
the same thing, i.e., the phenomenal forms are the self-determinations of the
Reality which flows or runs through all of them. This metaphysical view of
Reality is unlike the Peripatetic view which is akin to the level of popular
thinking or common-sense view of Reality according to which the Absolute
Reality is separated from the phenomenal forms which are viewed as determined
essences separated from the Reality.
1. This work is in manuscript
form and not yet published.
1. This ḥadīth is found in many versions.
The closest to that mentioned here is Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ, Kitāb
al-Tawḥīd, p. 532.
1. Cf. Toshihiko Izutsu’s
analysis of the metaphysics of Being in his Concept and
Reality of Existence (Tokyo, 1971) pp. 35–55, in which he discusses
briefly but substantially Āmulī’s metaphysics of Being among others.
2. Ibn ʿArabī, Muḥyī al-Dīn, al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyyah (Beirut, n.d.) vol. 3, p.
290. The last word of these verses in Āmulī’s text reads shakl
(form) whereas in al-Futūḥāt it reads fiʿl (act). The latter seems to
make more sense in the context of Ibn ʿArabī’s metaphysics of being, so we
have replaced ‘form’ by ‘act’.
1. What he intends here is that
Being has various forms of Its self-unfolding. This is a metaphysical system of
Ibn ʿArabī
by which Āmulī and other metaphysicians of Islam were influenced according to
which the same Reality is given a number of degrees or stages in accordance
with the various degrees of its Self-unfolding or Self-manifestation. Izutsu,
pp. 48–55.
1. Ibn ʿArabī, Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, ed. ʿAfīfī (Beirut, 1946), p. 79,
translated into English by R. W. J. Austin as The Bezels of
Wisdom (Lahore, 1999), p. 88.
2. This famous saying is
attributed to ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib; cf. Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, Discourses of Rūmī, trans. A. J. Arberry (London, 1975), p.
40, whereas some other classical Sufi texts such as al-Sarrāj, Abū Naṣr’s Kitāb
al-Lumaʿ, ed. R. A. Nicholson (Gibb Memorial Series, no. 22. Leiden,
1914) p. 70, Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī’s Quṭb al-qulūb, (Cairo, 1381/1961) vol. 2,
p. 205, attribute it to ʿĀmir ibn ʿAbd Qays, one of the eight early
Muslim ascetics.
3. Op.cit.,
p. 62; trans. Austin, p. 65.
1. Ibid., p. 66; trans. Austin,
p. 69.
2. Āmulī has mentioned these
verses in his Jāmiʿ al-asrār, 161, with his metaphysical
commentary which is not different from his commentary mentioned here. These
verses are attributed to Ibn ʿArabī according to O. A. Yahya; for
reference, Kitāb Jāmiʿ al-asrār, 806.
1. This is a well-known Shiʿi ḥadīth known as ḥadīth ʿalawī which has been the subject
of many commentaries by Shiʿi and Sunni gnostics. Cf. J.
Āshtiyānī’s introduction to the commentary on this ḥadīth by ʿAbd Allāh Zunūzī, Anwār-i jaliyyah, ed. with introduction by J. Āshtiyānī
(Tehran, 1976). This is yet another commentary on this ḥadīth by Āmulī, which is based on
the metaphysics of Being (wujūd). Its essential
unification and phenomenal dispersion can be understood by the supporting
evidence in the form of Qurʾānic verses, sayings of the Prophet,
sayings of the Shiʿi Imams, and remarks of the Sufi masters (mashāyikh).
1. Cf. op.cit., p. 441, note 1.
2. al-Ḥusayn ibn Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj, the famous Sufi who
was executed in 309/922. The indication here is to his ecstatic saying: ‘I am
the Reality’ (ana’l-ḥaqq) famous among the Sufis.
1. Ibn ʿArabī, Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, 79. The Bezels of Wisdom, 88.
1. The dominant idea in this
section is Āmulī’s concept of practical spirituality, that is, the three levels
of Divine Revelation shariʿah, ṭariqah, ḥaqiqah. He maintains that the Divine
Revelation constitutes the above three levels, like a walnut which contains the
outer shell, the kernel and the oil.
2. This is a famous ḥadīth attributed to the Prophet
which alludes to the ‘eye of certainty’ (ʿayn
al-yaqīn)
possessed by Ḥāritha ibn Malik al-Anṣārī who had the knowledge of ‘seeing’
the hidden things of Paradise and its inhabitants, etc. It is recorded by
Kulaynī in Uṣul al-kāfī, (Beirut, 1401/1980) vol. 2,
p. 54, and also by al-Suyūṭī, in Jāmiʿ al-aḥādith, ed. A. ʿAbd al-Jawād, and A. Aḥmad Ṣiqar (Damascus, n.d), vol. 7,
pp. 62, 339.
1. It should be noted that Ḥaydar Āmulī does not
interpret sharīʿah as only the legal code of
Islam but the totality of the Divine Message. This view was also maintained by
early Muslim thinkers, cf. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, ‘Islamic Law: Sharīʿah and Sharʿ’, in On
Understanding Islam (New York, 1981), pp. 87–110.
1. Cf. Uṣul al-kāfī, by Kulaynī, vol. 1, Kitāb al-ʿAql wa’l-jahl, no.1.
2. Cf. Aḥādīth-i
mathnawī,
by Badiʿ al-Zamān Furūzānfar (Tehran, 1955), no. 342.
3. The essential unity of
diverse revealed religions has been maintained by many Muslim metaphysicians
and mystics, cf. Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī (Ismaili thinker, d.c.
322/933–934), Aʿlām
al-nubuwwah, ed. with introduction by Ṣalāh al-Ṣāwī and Ghulāmrīḍā Aʿwānī, English preface by S. H. Nasr
(Tehran, 1977); and our article, ‘Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī on the Essential Unity
of Religions’, in Beacon of Knowledge: Essays in Honor of
Seyyed Hossein Nasr, ed. M. H. Faghfoory (Louisville, 2003), pp.
269–287; William C. Chittick, Imaginal Worlds: Ibn al-ʿArabī and
the Problem of Religious Diversity (Albany, 1994), part III, pp. 123–176.
Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī
ʿAlī ibn Muḥammad ibn Afḍal al-Dīn Muḥammad Turkah Khujandī, called Ṣāʾin al-Dīn, and usually known as Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī, marks a turning-point in the history
of Islamic thought as far as integrating various schools of Islamic thought and
preparing the ground for the appearance of Mullā Ṣadrā’s al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah (the transcendent
theosophy/philosophy) is concerned. Ṣāʾin al-Dīn was born in Isfahan in 764/1362–63 into a famous family of
scholars who were of Turkman origin and hailed originally from Khujand. He
received his earliest education in Isfahan and was a young man when Tamerlane
conquered the city and killed many of its inhabitants. Ṣāʾin al-Dīn and other
members of his family were exiled to Samarqand. For the next fifteen years he
studied and travelled in various regions including the Hijaz, Syria and Egypt
and was in Iraq when Tamerlane died. He then returned to Isfahan but his life
was entangled with the political upheavals of his day. He was imprisoned for a
time but also met favour with some of Tamerlane’s descendants, eventually
becoming chief judge (qāḍi) of Yazd. He also travelled extensively in various parts of Persia and
especially Khurāsān. He was even tried in Herat by his opponents because of his
esoteric writings. It was in Herat that he died in 835/1432 or 836/1433.
Many have discussed the
question of whether Ibn Turkah was Sunni or Shiʿi. There is no doubt that he was made a
judge among Sunni Muslims by rulers who were Ḥanafī, but also that he showed great love
and respect for the Family of the Prophet (ahl al-bayt).
It is not, therefore, possible to answer this question with certainty. But
there is no doubt that he was deeply drawn to Sufism and was an authority of
the Ḥurūfī
School, founded in its nascent form by Mughīrah in Iraq in the early Islamic
centuries, and based on the esoteric significance and symbolism of the letters
and words of the Qurʾān, similar to the Kabbalah in Judaism. Ibn Turkah also had much
influence on later Ḥurūfīs whose concern for the symbolism of letters and the science of jafr was shared by certain schools of Sufism, Twelver Shiʿism and Ismailism. In one
of his treatises on the significance of the cleaving of the
moon (shaqq al-qamar), he mentions the views of seven
schools of thought, that is, the jurisprudents, the Peripatetics, the Illuminationists,
the Sufis, the followers of Ibn ʿArabī, the Ḥurūfīs and Shiʿi scholars. He then seeks to interpret these views within a grand
synthesis.
More particularly, Ibn
Turkah was well versed in kalām, both Sunni and Shiʿi, philosophy, both
Peripatetic and Illuminationist, and various schools of Sufism especially the ʿirfān of the school of Ibn ʿArabī. He is remembered in later Islamic history not so much for his ḥurūfī views, but for the synthesis he sought to achieve between the various
schools of philosophy, ʿirfān and kalām, preparing the ground perhaps more than any other
single figure for Mīr Dāmād and, especially, Mullā Ṣadrā.
If we count his writings
individually, there are over fifty-five works in Arabic and Persian that we
know to have been authored by Ibn Turkah. They deal with philosophy, ʿirfān, esoteric commentary upon the Qurʾān and ḥadīth, the science of letters, the symbolic science of numbers, and general
religious and theological subjects. There are also a number of commentaries by
him upon important works of Sufism including poetry and prose by such masters
as Ibn al-Fāriḍ, ʿIraqī, Shabistarī and Ibn ʿArabī. In the latter category Ibn Turkah’s extensive commentary upon
the Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam is of particular
importance, covering the whole of the original text. Most of these works have
as yet to be printed and made available to the general public.
Among Ibn Turkah’s writings
by far the most famous and popular is the Tamhīd al-qawāʿid (Establishing the Principles) which has remained among the four or
five most often used texts for the teaching of ʿirfān over the centuries in Persia. Many commentaries have been written upon
it, the latest being a major work by the contemporary master of falsafah and ʿirfān in Qum, Jawād
Āmulī. This work of Ibn Turkah is a commentary upon a treatise entitled Qawāʿid al-tawḥīd (Principles of Unity) written by one of Ṣāʾin al-Dīn’s ancestors, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Iṣfahānī, who was first a Peripatetic philosopher but then turned to
Sufism. Abū Ḥāmid is the author of some other known works including al-Ḥikmah al-mūnīʿah (Precious Wisdom), al-Ḥikmah
al-rāshidiyyah (Guiding Wisdom) and a Persian
commentary upon Ibn al-Fāriḍ’s famous poem rhyming in tāʾ, al-Tāʾiyyah. The Qawāʿid al-tawḥīd is a masterly treatise on the doctrines of gnosis centred on the
principle of Unity. It served as the basis for a commentary by Ṣāʾin al-Dīn that was soon
recognized as one of the best works explaining ʿirfān by a master who was also deeply versed in theology and philosophy.
For a long time the
correctly-edited text Tamhīd al-qawāʿid was not available although it has been commented upon by such Qajar
masters as Āqā Muḥammad Riḍā Qumshaʾī and his student, Mīrzā Maḥmūd Qummī. During the first half of the fourteenth/twentieth century
one of the outstanding masters of ʿirfān of the day, Mīrzā
Aḥmad
Āshtiyānī, who was also a saintly figure, corrected the text in his own hand. It was this text that served as the basis for
the edition that Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Āshtiyānī published in 1976 and which has
served for the translation that follows. In a sense this text contains in
itself two centuries of the history of ʿirfān in Persia.
The influence of Ibn Turkah,
and especially his Tamhīd al-qawāʿid, on later centuries was very notable. Mullā Ṣadrā, and through him his students, were
deeply influenced by Ibn Turkah as were a number of major figures of the Qajar
period. Today the work continues to be taught in many circles in Persia and the
teachings of Ibn Turkah continue to be influential in Persia as part and parcel
of the living tradition of ʿirfān.
In this chapter a section of
Ibn Turkah’s Tamhīd al-qawāʿid (Establishing the Principles) has been included. This important, but
outside Persia still unappreciated philosopher, begins the treatise by
attempting to elucidate the laws of tawḥīd (unity) and offers a classification of the different ways of knowing,
e.g. reasoning, reflecting, inspiration, etc. Ibn Turkah, applying Plato’s
doctrine of participation to existence argues that existence participates in
both meaning and concepts and continues by discussing different types of
intelligibles, the necessity of existence and its relation to existents.
S. H. Nasr
Tamhīd al-qawāʿid
Translated for this volume by Joseph
Lumbard based upon two semi-critical editions of Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī, Kitāb Tamhīd al-qawāʾid fi sharḥ qawāʿid
al-tawḥīd, ed. Jalāl al-Dīn
Āshtiyānī (Qum, 1381 Sh./2002); ed. Ḥasanzādih Āmulī (Qum, 1381 Sh./2002).1
Praise be to God who made the places
obscured by the shadows of His magnificence, loci in which are disclosed the
lights of His beauty, differentiating what is undifferentiated among the
inherent properties (aḥkām);2 who made the forms of His Self-disclosures (tajalliyāt)3
places in which the suns of realities arise, completing what is universal among
the blessings. So they became, for both His servants who receive His
loving-kindness and for those opposed to Him who are distant from Him, the loci
wherein the stars of the Gnostic sciences (maʿārif) arise and in which the foremost gifts (ʿawārif) set,4 granting the desires that the tongue of preparedness5
expresses.
Glory be to Him for a
non-manifest whose hiddenness has no cause other than the extremeness of
manifestation through the illuminations of His tribunes and what the
manifestation of lights, through coverings, necessitates from among the flashes
of luminiscences. Magnificent is His task (shaʾn),6 which is manifest without a cause7 for its becoming
manifest, and without its being (kawn) penetrating
into the non-manifest aspects of His veils and the
duskiness of darkness that follows necessarily upon it.
A non-manifest which is hardly hidden,
And a manifest which is
hardly apparent.1
Prayers and blessings
upon Muḥammad,
the locus from which every good is dispersed, that which opens every opening
and seals every closing. He is the radiant light that is not corrupted by the
blemishes of shadows and the obfuscations of clouds.
Do not cast the shadow of otherness in his sun,
For it is sun, it is shadow,
it is shade.
Prayers and blessings
also upon his family and companions, the niche that comprises every variagation
and the lamp that gathers every shadow.
To proceed: As for the issue of attesting
to unity (tawḥīd) according to what
the witnessers verify and following what the verifiers2 witness from the
highest unveiling and from clear viewing (ʿiyān), it—the moment at which those with intellects perceive—is among that
to which the torchbearers of proofs and demonstrations3 do not lead, except
those whom God supports with a light from Him, whom He grants success with His
guidance to it, from among those who attain the two degrees of intellectual
demonstration and sapiential witnessing, those who succeed on the paths of
exalted knowledge and sound unveiling, whom God has delivered from the
constrictions of rhetorical and demonstrative introductory matters to the
realms of the unveiling inrushes (al-wāridah al-kashfiyyah)
and the proclamations of observation through the beauty of following the
prophets—God’s blessings and peace upon them all. The prophets are the
connections to the subtle bonds of realities (raqāʾiq al-ḥaqāʾiq),1
from the entity of gathering (ʿayn al-jamʿ)2 to the locus of differentiation, and
intermediaries for the descent of realities from the heaven of holiness to the
station of descending, especially he among them who consoles—a fair example3—the first of them in existence and
rank, the last of them sent in time, Muḥammad; he who is the ultimate objective of objectives, whose exalted
traditions are the spring of perfections and the source of happiness—the best
of blessings and most beautiful greetings upon him and his family.
Thus you see that when his
noble people try to verify the realities of tawḥīd they reconcile the intellectual demonstration and the transmitted
scriptures to an extent which could not be greater, as they obliterate the
ambiguities of some of the philosophers who fail to make what sound vision
bestows upon them coincide with what descends upon them from the pure text.4
Likewise, in the rest of the real sciences and the Gnostic certainties they
have clarified the places where they err and displayed the matters upon which
they stumble through that by which the place of obscurity is made clear and the
small star is distinguished from the sun. All of that is a ray from
intelligence encompassing a pitch-dark night.
Our time5 has born witness to
its utmost perfection.6 The family tree of its advance has ripened and the time for harvesting
its fruits has arrived, and the mask has been removed from seclusions of its
virgins with what illuminates the pages of its days from the traces found in
the heavenly descended books and the exalted unveiling gospels. By my life! You
will find that what the great ones only attained to after years of training
their souls with severe exhausting exercises by day and night has become a
conversational tidbit for the elite and the masses. That the
dissemination of which was divulged through the spilling of the blood of great
men has become as well-known as the afternoon sun.
To summarize, what is not
possible for one who seeks perfection is to traverse the stages of his journey
without removing the two sandals.1 Nor can anyone turn round its axis
except by folding in both feet—rather, by stripping off the two powers. Its
secrets are heard from their straps and the abundance of its intricacies are
gleaned from the subtle bonds (raqāʾiq) of their warp and weft by gleaning the intangibles of its realities
from the nets of their perceiving. So with the two faculties of sense-intuition
(wahm)2 and intellect (ʿaql) and the ordering of what they perceive through the auspices of these
moments and times, the person of understanding arrives at it and stumbles upon
it. He arrives at the most magnificent of certainties and stumbles upon the
first of all that is self-evident.
How much is all that appears in the two fields,
While the sign and affair
are clearer than fire upon a minaret.
What was desired by the
ancient sages (ḥukamāʾ)—who are from the group of the pure, the prophets and saints—according
to revelation, and Hermes, called Idris [in the language of revelation], and
Pythagoras, called Seth, and the Divine Plato—was none but this. But the later
ones among the companions of the First Teacher (Aristotle)—I mean the
peripatetics—when they limited the path of examination and the seeking of true
wisdom to sheer proof and mere research, the veils of dark ambiguities formed
from the rules of disputation upon which they established their methodologies
prevented them from realizing that which is the truth in that magnificent
affair.3 Those among them who claim the benefit of verification or delineation
make one wonder. They only come with the addition of obstacles and criticism.
Then through the process of gradual deterioration their writings become a
collection of darknesses, one upon the other. So, none but a few escaped from
their desolation: ‘And God did not oppress them, but they oppressed themselves’
(16:38).
As for the treatise composed
by my master and grandfather, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī, who is known as ‘Turkah’, it includes certain demonstrations
and the luminous proofs regarding the origin of tawḥīd in conformity with what the verifiers claim.
The author has done his utmost to obliterate these doubts with the subtleties
of his clarification and taken great pains to tame these damages with the power
of his exposition (tibyān), to the extent that no
spoiling blemish regarding what is true among these certainties will remain for
one with the slightest training in intellectual matters. But due to the depth
of his penetration into sapiential matters (ḥikamiyyāt) and the extent of his involvement with the sciences of demonstration,
the understanding of most of those who infer (al-mustafīdīn)
are cut off from the goals of his noble objectives, and the perceptions of the
rest who seek guidance are barred from the springs of his august lessons. So
during my sessions with some of those among the sincere brothers who share in
investigation, I tried to remove the mask of brevity from the faces of the
secluded maidens of these expressions with the clearest explanation (bayān) and to spread its exalted benefits and fulfil its
wonts, alluding to most of the principles of the people of unveiling (ahl al-kashf) and the sources of their rulings, indicating
the complications of these researches and the universality of their objectives,
preserving the terms and expressions which circulate among them, attentive to
what is considered appropriate among their technical terms and metaphors,
cautious of understanding the opposite of what is sought. This led to striking
upon examination of iniquity, and after its completion was named The Book Facilitating Explanation of the Treatise: The Laws of
Tawḥīd.
[The author of The Laws of Tawḥīd], Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī, said ‘Praise be to His vicegerent and blessings upon His
Prophet Muḥammad and his family. Verily, establishing the problem of tawḥīd in the manner of the
gnostics (al-ʿārifūn) the manner, to
which the verifiers allude, is among the most recondite problems to which the
thoughts of the speculative remonstrating scholars do not reach. Nor do the
minds of the eminent researchers among the speculators perceive it.’
I say: know that the context
in which this treatise is here begun comprises the issue of what necessarily
comes first as regards writing and composing and also includes what indicates
the objectives of this treatise, summarizing what is required for teaching and
appraising (tafhīm). That is because the discussion
is based upon two issues.
First: The affirmation of
the oneness and necessity of Absolute Existence and the limitation of what
merits praise among the universal attributes in it (existence). His saying:
‘Praise to His vicegerent’ is an allusion to that.
Second: The affirmation that
the Absolute Reality, although all existents are loci for its manifestation, in
all of its degrees it is a oneness, the whole of which is only manifest in the
real human species, who verify the aforementioned degrees through tasting and
witnessing. Among them is one who is distinguished as the loci of manifestation
and reflection [of the Divine qualities] by virtue of sealing and
completion—peace and blessings upon him and his family. His saying ‘Blessings
upon him’ is an allusion to that.
Then
his saying, ‘… in the manner of the gnostics’ is an allusion to the later Muḥammadan saints—may God be
content with them—who openly divulge it and disclose it by composing and
reciting poetry and prose, who demonstrate is affirmation through reason and
revelation for those who are perceptive. And his saying, ‘the manner to which
the verifiers allude’ is an allusion to those who came before, such as the
prophets—the Mercy of God upon them—and their pupils, the saints among the
Hermeticists and the ancient philosophers (al-ḥukamāʾ
al-qudamāʾ) who do not aim for it in the majority of their expressions except in
a manner of hinting and intimation, following in every era what the perceptions
of its people dictate, descending to the level of their understanding, and only
indicating it through an intimation in which there is a form of covering and
concealing, so that all of their words are universally beneficial for both the
elite and the commons.
His saying, ‘the speculative
remonstrating scholars’ is likely intended to the theologians, just as his
saying, ‘the eminent researchers’ is directed toward a group among the
peripatetic philosophers.
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘Most of
them claim that certainty regarding it [tawḥīd] indicates consolidation of a bad temperament in the objects of the
soul faculties [resulting] from deviation of the sound corporeal matters and
the black bile overpowering the primary noble organs, since certainty in the
baselessness (buṭlān) of all intellectual, sensorial, primal, and natural properties
follows the performance of onerous endeavours and practices that arise from the
whispers of the imagination (al-khayāl) not possible
for anyone except through the appearance of that initial cause (al-sabab al-ḥādīth) and testing it
against what we have mentioned regarding the unseemly illness.’
I say: Know that it is the
custom of the author—as is known from the examination of the rest of his
books—to first determine, upon establishing the areas of investigation, the
argument of the adversary, according to what it demonstrates about him with the
firmest examination, and to strive to establish its rules (qawāʿid) and erect its intricacies as much as possible. Then he undertakes to
examine the sources of its doubts and ambiguities and determine the components
of its obscurities. So he wanted to follow his customary practice in this
treatise. Therefore, he began it with that by which the adversary could
demonstrate the depravity (fasād) of their path for
reaching the unveiling they seek and their gnostic sapiential sciences—named
the path of purification and withdrawal (takhliyah).
That is because he is here in the position of conveying the perspective
regarding the path of demonstration, so he must introduce it in accordance with
the rest of the researches and sayings.
His clarification is that
certainty in the realness of this issue [tawḥīd] indicates that the temperaments (amzijah)
of the soul faculties, upon which perceivings depend, has deviated from its
origin, rather bad temperament (mizāj) has been
consolidated within them, and that which requires treatment persists. If it is
not treated then when one is completely certain of it, the root cause and the
path by which one arrives at that certainty is the
defectiveness (ikhtilāl) of the perceiving faculties.
And there is no doubt that every path which is an expression of the
defectiveness of the perceiving faculties is but a path to ignorance and
deficiency, to say nothing of its reaching the sciences of certainty and the
real perfections.
Were you to say, ‘How is it
possible to demonstrate through certain knowledge—which is from the soul
qualities—despite the deviation of the objects of the soul-faculties’
temperaments—which are from the body qualities?’
We say that it is from
demonstration through the affirmation of what is caused by verification of the
cause—now known as proof (burhān) by the people of
speculation (ahl al-naẓr).
The clarification of
causality is apparent, for the defectiveness of the objects of the soul
faculties—I mean the organs for the mental thought instruments which are for
the insight (al-baṣīrah) that discerns and judges things as they are through the parts of the
eye and the stages of the faculty of vision—is the cause of the defectiveness
of the perceptions of these objects, just as the defectiveness of a part of the
eye necessitates defectiveness of its perceptions. That is because each
perceiving that is through the intermediation of one of the bodily instruments
is no doubt through the judgment of a hidden subtle bond (raqīqah
khafiyyah)1 and the intermediary of an adjoining correlation (munāsabah)2
between the nature of that instrument and the mode of perceiving. If not, then
what other instrument would be suited for it?
Then it is necessary that
the deviation of the temperament of this instrument from its balanced reality
require the baselessness of the judgment of something when that thing is absent.
Thus, due to its remoteness from the correlation (munāsabah)3
there occurs defectiveness and corruption in the perceiving. So whenever the
temperament deviates, the perceptions necessarily deviate from their true sound
origin (aṣlihā al-qawīm) and their
straight way, especially when that deviation is consolidated and persistent.
Let it not be said that this
only occurs if the issue is one of the forms and partial meanings that the soul
perceives through the intermediary of the bodily faculties and the instruments
pertaining to matter. If they are from the universals that the soul
intelligizes without the intermediation of anything from the instruments, then
how could this demonstration be complete?
That is because we say, by
way of concession that this issue [tawḥīd] is among the universals, we do not concede that all universals are
only intelligized by the soul without the intermediation of the instruments.
For among the universals are those things that it intelligizes through the
instruments by extracting them from the particularities and deleting the
distinctive characteristics; and it is called a universality after
multiplicity. And if we conceded that—but we do concede that this demonstration
applies only to the soul’s perceiving this matter—rather, it is only through
consideration of what is required by the raising of what is witnessed and what
is first. Therefore, he demonstrated this by saying, ‘since certainty in the
futility of all intellectual [sensual, primal, and natural properties]…’ The
explanation of that is that certainty in the baselessness of the issue of tawḥīd is certainty in the
baselessness of all kinds of certainties from what is intellectually proven,
what is analogous to that, the sensible [properties] derived from direct
witnessing, the primal [properties] which are what pertains to immediate
awareness (wijdān). And that, according to their
claim that the judgment of the mutual distinction of the quiddities (māhiyyāt) and the mutual difference of the entifications (taʿayyunāt)—in accordance
with that follows necessarily from these introductory matters—negates the
judging of this issue when raised to (rāfiʿah ilā) the judgments of separation and distinction.
Then the appearance of the
marks of illness—when preceded by engaging in their causes—requires sound
intuition (ḥads) and a mind directed
to the level of that unseemly illness [to treat it]. Therefore, he preceded
that demonstration by saying, ‘follows the performance of onerous endeavours
and practices’, which is an expression for sleeplessness and hunger, the two
detachers that are necessary for the black bile to rule over the fundamental
noble mental organs that are the support for the rest of the intellectual
perceiving and the fundamental origin for the form1 that determines the
reality pertaining to the human species.
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘But the
affair is quite different from what they suppose, rather it is the opposite of
what they imagine.’
I say: That is because what
they demonstrated regarding tawḥīd, which is based upon the bad temperaments of the objects of the soul
faculties, is only an indication of the healthiness of these temperaments and
their soundness. For the perceiving of the perceptive faculties and the sensory
organs, when it follows the thing itself and their judgement of things as they
are, simply indicates the soundness of the temperaments of the faculties’
objects. Because the issuing of actions from the objects is free of deficiency
it is only an indication of their healthiness. So the matter is as it is in the
aforementioned demonstration: ‘… quite different from what they suppose, rather
it is the opposite of what they imagine.’ Since what they claim to be the
indication of the bad temperament of the object of the percvings of those who
are fully certain of this issue (i.e. tawḥīd) is in fact the indication of the consolidation of the bad temperament
of the objects of the perceiving of those who have failed to attain the degree
of certitude.
That is because every
faculty and foundation—be it natural, animal or of the soul—when it fulfils the
objective particular to it, then falls short of it, this objective, in
following from it, is only that at the level of a bad temperament which is
accidental to it and deviates from its origin (aṣl). For were that temperament and its nature left free of obstacles, it
would be drawn to its completeness, then its objective would follow upon it.
And there is no doubt that the objective of the perceiving soul faculties is
only to perceive things as they are. So when this objective falls short of it
that is due to the level of bad temperament. It is thus apparent that the
matter of bad temperament arising is the opposite of what they imagine.
Were you to say: ‘The claim
that the issue of tawḥīd is as mentioned from all the perceivings which are of things as they
are and that the intended objective of the soul faculties is the first issue
and the subject of debate, then how is the demonstration regarding it sound
according to their way?’
We would say: These matters
are presented in accord with the subject at hand in order to prove them
according to the position appropriate to it in the course of writing what is
customary for them in affirming matters pertaining to speculation.
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘I wanted to
write a treatise in which I clarify reality of the way (madhhab)
of the gnostics and the falsity of those who cast lies and accusations [against
them]. I further wanted this treatise to contain the quintessence of what has
come to me through inspiration (ḥads) regarding this
affair, and to comprise the cream of cream of what I have concluded by
reflecting upon this issue. We decided to establish this affair in the way of the
speculative [philosophers] and to follow the way of debate with the accusers,
and to affirm it with strong arguments by which to refute the accusation of the
deniers and intensify the desire of the seekers.
‘O God, place us among the
victorious who are saved, not among the lost who are rejected. O brothers of
attaining (taḥṣīl), race to attaining
the real perfection and the everlasting subsistence before the inevitable
annihilation and the everlasting extinction overcomes you. Hasten in your lives
before natural death hastens you on. Seek aid from Him in all affairs and rely
upon Him if you are believers.’
I say: Know that it is the
habit of the author to support all the realities pertaining to taste and
unveiling upon intuition in accordance with the method of the people of
speculation, despite disparities in expressions (ʿibārāt). For them there is no equivalent to thought (fikr)
other than intuition, as will be verified later. The remainder of what is
mentioned here is clear.
Then
he addresses the exhortation to ‘the brothers of attaining’, that is those
among the people of speculation who have insight due to the proximity of their
preparedness to avail themselves of the sapiential gnostic sciences and their
receptivity to the effusion of the real perfections by advancing from imaginal
forms and partial sensations to intellectual meanings (al-maʿānī
al-ʿaqliyyah) and universal
gnosis (al-maʿārif al-kuliyyah), and
being free from the noose of established customs which lead one to mistake the
rulings pertaining to illusional particularities for universal realities, based
upon the intellect and its receptivity to speculations and allusions in the
place of receiving certainties and intelligibles. But due to their inability to
attain real perfection—because of their confining the species of perfection to
the summoning of partial conventions that are inscribed in the bodily
instruments and the corporeal faculties enfolded within their objects—upon the
extinction of the elemental configuration,1 that development
does not fully benefit them. And their seeking to have real perfection follow
immediately upon eternal subsistence in the text is an allusion to this.
Concerning the Participation of Existence
in both Meaning2 and Notion3
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘Know that existence is
comprised entirely of particular existences, not according to the expression,
but according to the meaning (maʿnā), as we have made clear in our other books.’
I say: Insofar as the
reality of existence is self-evident in what-ness (halliyyah)
and in what-is-itness (māhiyyah),4
as has been clarified previously, it begins in its ruling properties (aḥkām) and precedes
participation because it is closer to the ruling
properties as regards the reality and as regards the point to which all other
properties and issues sought in this treaties, such as existence and oneness,
return.
So although the evidentness
of the reality necessitates the evidentness of its participation, nonetheless,
the author has here reported in various insightful manners, all of which
increase one’s insight, that the concept of existence is known immediately. If
it does not participate among all existents, the absence of everything entirely
would not be made necessary of its being absent from the entirety. Rather that
is false, because we know necessarily that everything that does not have the
notion of being immediately known is completely negated.
It should not be said that
what is clarified in the rest of his books is only the participation of the
meaning (maʿnā) of existence
according to the technical vocabulary of the Peripatetics, because his
discussion with the Peripatetics in these books is according to their methods.
Therefore that clarification (bayān) does not
necessitate the participation of existence in accordance with the meaning which
concerns us here when we clarify the difference between the two meanings,
according to the two technical usages.
We say that what the author
is claiming regarding the two meanings of existence is none other than the real
[meaning] which the seekers of truth (muḥaqqiqūn) claim, not the conceptual [meaning], as is the opinion of some later
[philosophers]. After the clarification of the decrepitude and defectiveness
that this opinion comprises and apprising [one] of the destruction of
principles and the absence of order that results there from, it has been
affirmed, in other than what is found in his book, that the meaning of
existence with which we are dealing is the real meaning. That is made clear in
those matters which the one who reflects does not hesitate to recognize if he
comes upon the principles of their craft and knows them, with certainty and
resolute verification of what is true, from plunging into that deep research,
as he says in his book al-Iʿtimād (The Reliance) after completing the replies to what the Master of
Illumination [Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī] and others posed regarding the
conceptuality of existence (iʿtibāriyyat
al-wujūd).
If you know this, then we
say: If what this eminent author intended by what he mentioned is that the
verification in the entities (aʿyān) has no verification in the entities added to itself then it is true,
but that does not require that it itself be a conceptual thing. But if by that
he intended that its reality is only necessitated by something among the
conceptual notions (al-mafhūm al-iʿtibārī), and from the joining of the two affairs there results a conceptual
thing, we are not opposed to that. But that does not require that existence
itself be a conceptual thing. If by that he intended the self-same verification
from the intelligible concepts (al-iʿtibārāt
al-ʿaqliyyah), then it is
clear that this is not so, because each one of the quiddities existing in an
entity is a verification and an entified verification itself would be among
those things which are real, because there is no doubt that that through which
the real thing abides and by which it is verified must be real. And if the two
are the same quiddity, then that verification is either the very quiddities
themselves or a part of them due to its participating among them all. So it is
not simply a conceptual thing.
Furthermore, if entified
existence does not have a reality in the entities, then the quiddities realized
in the entities would be realized, in their entity, in the mind. Then the
realizing in the mind would be better suited to be conceptual and there would
be no opposition between mental and external quiddities, except through
conceptualization (iʿtibār), and if existence were sheer intelligible meanings that would require
either the negation of things being instaured [with existence] or that
quiddities be instaured [with existence]. In addition, when we realize
verification in entities, it is impossible that that verification not be
verified in the entities. So it is verified in the entities.
It might be said: ‘Were that
sound, then it would be sound to say that it is impossible for the existence of
an occurrence non-existent at present to exist, for it would exist and would
not be non-existent at present.’
We say: We do not submit to
the futility of what you have concluded, since existence does not admit
non-existence, just as it (non-existence) does not admit existence. Rather,
what admits non-existence is the quiddity. But it only becomes non-existent
through the cessation of its association with existence. The truth is that just
as external existence (al-wujūd al-ʿaynī) is immediately apparent, so too, its verification in entities is
known immediately. But doubt regarding things like this may arise, not because
of obscurity and inscrutability, but because of the intensity of clarity and
disclosure.
Know that if the intelligent
one who is aware of the principles of the craft (philosophy) encompasses all
the subjects that I have presented here, then perhaps the truth of this matter
will shine upon him. As for the explanation of the claim regarding what is
witnessed through strong intuition (al-ḥads al-qawiy) and clear proof, that is in our book entitled The Invincible Wisdom (al-Ḥikmah al-munīʿah). He also mentioned in a section of The Guiding Wisdom (al-Ḥikmah al-rashīdiyyah):
‘So if you make entified existence like the rest of the negations and additions,
then we will make all of the remaining notions follow their course, rather they
are more properly put among the tribe of conceptual things (al-iʿtibārāt).1 Then we make existence itself a real source for all that is other than
it among the entities.’2
Regarding another issue from
The Guiding Wisdom, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘There is no doubt that the qualification of the
quiddities by entified existence in the entities requires that existence occur
in those entities, in opposition to that reality of
which is this existence itself or its necessary concomitant. Perhaps the pure1
have doubts regarding this matter, not due to its hidden-ness and abstruseness,
rather because of the intensity of its manifestation….’ These were his words.
Upon the removal of the mask
from these faces from which the lights of verification arise one has no doubts
that what shines upon him regarding the meaning (maʿnā) of existence is distinct from the opinions of the later philosophers,
especially among the Peripatetics among them.
It should not be said: ‘How
is that, when we have seen him follow in their tracks in the clarification of
their objectives and the ordering of their proofs? Then he began declaring some
false and following others.’
That only occurs with the
coordination of technical vocabulary and the agreement between the two customs.
Because we claim that his illumination is in accord with what the onlooker
attains to after condescending to participate in their customary discourse,
following the principles of their craft2 and improving upon
it and verifying it to the greatest possible extent, then sifting what is
indispensable from the various types of deficiency and derangement, supported
by demonstrations around which the blemishes of illusions do not circle. Among
those things by which the investigation is distinguished from the clothes of
systematization is that the controversy regarding this [outer] form is confined
to expression only and that the meaning (maʿnā) which the philosophers claim to consider is what the author has
clarified as being real in the aforementioned ways. So that what they claim is
real among the quiddities, he claims is real through relations and concepts. So
they do not specify the word ‘existence’, in all of its degrees and divisions,
as being from one of the two existences [entified or conceptual] and apply it
universally to existences as being entified. They are far removed from what the
verifiers maintain regarding generality (ʿumūm) and particularity (khuṣūṣ) in accordance with what
I have indicated in the introduction.3 As for what the author claims according
to what is known from the scrutiny of his words, existence is particular only
without being general.4 When this is established, then his discussion with them is through, as is his deducing in accord with them. Because what is
established for the general is no doubt established for the particular.
Regarding the Necessity of Existence1
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī said: ‘It is clear that its reality,
insofar as it is itself, does not admit non-existence into its own essence, due
to the impossibility of any two opposites being qualified by the other, and the
impossibility of a nature being transformed into another nature. And when
non-existence is impossible in its essence, it [itself] is necessary in its
essence.’
I say: After the affirmation
of participation of the meaning (maʿnā) of existence, he commences with the clarification of its necessity,
which is one of the objectives [of philosophy]. The affirmation of that is that
the reality of existence, insofar as it is it [self], does not admit
non-existence in its essence. This results in the reality of existence being
necessary in its essence. As for the greater, it is apparent. As for the lesser,
that is because if the reality of existence admits non-existence in its essence
then it is possible for it to be qualified by it, and if it is possible for it
to be qualified by it then it is not necessary that it be impossible. But the
latter is false, as it is deemed necessary that it be inconceivable. That is
because what is qualified would then not be in need of remaining in its reality
upon its being qualified by non-existence from the start. And if it were
remaining [in that state] it would be necessary that one of the two contraries
be qualified by the other. If it did not remain [in that state] the
transformation of the nature of existence into the nature of on-existence would
be necessary, and both of these are clearly impossible.
This is what suffices the
author for the affirmation of the necessity of existence, since a little
suffices one who is perspicacious and much does not suffice the ignoramus. But
it is possible to affirm it in many ways. We will undertake some of them as
enlightenment for those who reflectively observe (al-nāẓirīn) and to arouse the desire of the insightful among them.
First: Absolute Existence is
a simple uncaused existent. All that which is like this, is necessary in its
essence. As for its being existent, that is because if it were non-existent it
would be necessary that something be qualified by its contrary, and what is
qualified abides through its qualifier, and something does not abide with what
negates it. As for its being simple, that is because if its components are
existent, existence would then have to precede itself. If they were
non-existent, its non-existence would be necessary. As for its being uncaused,
that is because if it were not so it would be necessary for a thing to precede
itself, as necessarily follows from the fact that the existence of the cause
must precede what is caused. As for a clarification that
all that for which these properties are established is necessary in itself,
that is evident.
Second: If it were not
necessary, it would be possible or impossible, following necessarily from the
classification of notions (mafhūmāt) under the three
categories, [possible, impossible and necessary]. The first [category] is
inconceivable since the possible thing does not admit both existence and
non-existence in its essence, and something does not admit both itself and its
contradiction. The second [category] is also inconceivable, since what is
impossible is non-existent and existence is existent, as has previously been
explained, and because its impossibility requires the negation of existences,
as follows necessarily from the necessity of the qualification of the
particular by that by which the absolute general (al-ʿāmm
al-muṭlaq) is qualified. Some
of the later [philosophers] have undertaken to reply to this. Among them are
those who chose the second alternative and made the meaning of the
qualification of something by existence that if it occurs to the mind it is
qualified by existence. Just as external things are qualified by necessity and
possibility, although neither has external ipseity, so too, existence would
have no external ipseity. For that they rely solely upon the explanation of the
eminent Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī (d. 672/1274) that it is among the secondary intelligibles;1
and you have learned what defects lie in this. Alas for this eminent one, was
he not content with the particulars of the issues to the exclusion what was
transmitted from the great masters of unveiling and the prominent guiding
Imams, because it is among the convincing [arguments]. How did he convince
himself regarding this important issue with transmission from some of the
eminent reflectors, clinging to what he acquired from sheer conjecture and
being content with it.
Among them there are also
those who choose the first alternative, exaggerating what it implies to the
extent that if absolute existence took on non-conditionality (lā bi-sharṭ shayʾ)—I mean the universal nature—it would not be a single thing, but
multiple things, since absolute existence verifies the existence of the
necessary and the possibilities.2 So some of absolute existence would be
necessary and of some it would be a particular
possibility. It is not hidden to anyone who has the least experience with their
ways that this multiplicity is only conceived for what this nature verifies
among individual things. And as for the very reality of that notion which is
the universal nature, it has no multiplicity and no plurality.
Third: Existence is
existent, as has been previously demonstrated.1 If it were not
necessary, it would be possible, for its cause is inevitably existent, so it is
either itself of a division among its divisions. [But] all of these require
that something precede itself.
They have sometimes also
responded to this by claiming that its cause is but a division among its
divisions, and that something to the fact that the cause must be preceded by
existence and that the impossible precedence in each of their estimations is
absurd. Sometimes they have replied that absolute existence is not a single
thing such that it would have a single cause. Rather the necessary is an
absolute existent and all of the possibilities are an absolute existent, so the
cause of every absolute existent is another absolute existent, until one
arrives at an absolute existent with no mover beyond it.
You know the deficiencies in
this. I have only related the account of their argument in order that the
sagacious one may be aware that so long as the intellect is in its sound mode (fi ṭarzihi al-salīm), free
of conventional judgements and customary considerations, the clarifications of
proofs will not benefit it, nor will theoretical demonstration bring it to
certainty. So what is going on with these eminent [philosophers]? Despite their
plunging into the affair of disputation and the great extent to which they
follow the path of researching and theorizing, you see them failing to rely
upon the clear truth, in spite of their proofs pursuing this course; and they
ride the mount of possibility and guessing.
Fourth: Existence is
existent, its existence is itself and all that is such is necessary in its
essence. As for its being existent, that is in what has preceded. As for its
existence being itself, that is because if not for that, it would either be a
part of it or outside of it. The first leads to existence being composed [of
parts], and the falsity of this has been explained. The second necessitates the
implausible chain of infinite regression.
Fifth: The existent is a
thing which has existence; and is what has existence too general to be the
entity of existence or other than it, in opposition to the nature of existence?
So the thing is confirmed in itself because what cannot be eliminated from the
essence does not influence what is outside of it—and that for which existence
is affirmed without the intermediary of another thing, that is necessary.
1. Major discrepancies between
the editions will be noted in the footnotes.
2. The aḥkām or ‘ruling properties’ refer
to the determining principles through which all manifestations of the created
order or cosmos come into existence. This process of manifestation is referred
to as the differentiating of what is undifferentiated because the ruling
properties are differentiated in the cosmos but are manifest in an
undifferentiated mode in the highest of the heavenly spheres.
3. From the perspective of Ibn
Turkah, following from the teachings of Ibn ʿArabī, all existent things are Self-disclosures
of the Divine Itself, Who manifests Himself in the world, but still remains
utterly beyond it. See William Chittick, The Self-Disclosure
of God (Albany, NY, 1998).
4. Āshtiyānī’s footnote
explains: ‘That is rising in relation to the receivers of loving-kindness and
setting in relation to the people of opposition’ (p. 161).
5. The idea of preparedness is
closely related to that of self-disclosure. The extent to which anything
receives God’s self-disclosure is pre-determined by its ‘preparedness’. This
pertains to one’s knowledge of God, but moreover, to one’s ontological status.
6. The use of the word task is
derived from the Qurʾānic verse, ‘Every day He is upon a task’ (55:29). As Sachiko
Murata explains: ‘These ‘tasks’ of God are the things or realities or entities
considered as specific activities of the ‘Reality of realities’—God inasmuch as
he embraces all realities and entities without exception…. In the broadest
sense ‘tasks’ designate everything in God that gives rise to the multiple
things of the universe.’ Chinese Gleams of Sufi Light
(Albany, NY, 2000), p. 120.
7. Here I have followed the
Āshtiyānī edition which reads ‘lā ʿillata’ (p. 162). The Āmulī edition
reads ‘li ahlihī’ (to His people) (p. 6).
1. This appears as verse in the
Āmulī edition (p. 6) and as prose in the Āshtiyānī edition (p. 162).
2. Muḥaqqiqūn (verifiers) is a term taken
from early Sufi texts. Ibn ʿArabī identifies the verifiers as
those who have attained to unveiling (kashf) and are
able to see things as they are in themselves (kamā hiya).
He did not often refer to himself and those of his ilk as Sufis, but preferred
the term muḥaqiqqūn: ‘I mean by “our companions”
those who possess hearts, witnessings and unveilings, not the worshippers or
ascetics, and not all Sufis, save those among them who are the people of truths
and verification (taḥqīq).’ al-Futūḥāt
al-Makiyyah, n.e. (Cairo, 1911; repr. Beirut, n.d.), vol. 1, p. 261.
3. i.e. Theologians and
philosophers.
1. The raqāʾiq (sing. raqīqah)
are the subtle forms of existence that connect different levels of existence.
They are ‘ladders’ by which forms in the lower world are connected to their
likenesses (mithāl) in the higher worlds. To perceive
them is to see things as they are, for one sees the manner in which things are
connected to their higher origins. For a further explanation of raqāʾiq see William Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge (Albany, NY, 1989), p. 406, n.6.
2. The ‘entity of gathering’ (ʿayn al-jamʿ) refers to the first stage
of God’s Self-disclosure, which is identical to the last stage of return to
Him. The first stage is represented by the name Allāh,
which is the ‘gathering name’ (al-ism al-jāmiʿ) in which all other divine
names and created realities are ‘gathered’. In the Divine Essence all things
are present in a completely undifferentiated mode of existence prior to their
deployment in the lower levels of manifestation and differentiation. The level
of gathering is the first level that is discernibly different.
3. ‘A fair example’ (uswatun ḥasanatun) is a term appearing three
times in the Qurʾān: 33:21, 60:4 and 60:6. In the second and third instances
it refers to ‘Abraham and those with him’ (60:4). But in Islamic texts it is
almost always used in reference to 33:21 which refers to the Prophet Muḥammad: ‘There is for you in
the Messenger of God a fair example for those who hope for God and the last day
and remember God much.’
4. i.e. the Noble Qurʾān.
5. Ḥasanzādih Āmulī observes that the
meaning of ‘our time’ is the Islamic era as a whole, not the time of Ibn Turkah
himself (p. 9, n. 3).
6. i.e. The combination of
intellectual demonstrations and transmitted scriptures.
1. The sandals here
representing the life of this world and the next. The reference is taken from
Qurʾān
20:2, when God tells Moses to remove his sandals because he is ‘in the Holy
Valley (al-wādī al-muqaddas)’.
2. Wahm
(sense-intuition) refers to the third of four modes of perceiving: ḥiss (sense-perception), khayāl (imagination), wahm and ʿaql (intellect). Ḥiss perceives particular things
in the outside world through the sense organs, khayāl
perceives particulars internally, wahm perceives
universals in the form of particulars, and ʿaql perceives universals
themselves. So here Ibn Turkah is referring to the two modes of perceiving
universals.
3. i.e. The questions of tawḥīd.
1. In place of ‘hidden subtle
bond’ Āshtiyānī’s edition reads ‘through the subtle bond of reality’ (raqīqat-i ḥaqīqatin) (p. 201).
2. Munāsabah
(correlation) is sometimes synonymous with raqīqah
(subtle bond). That appears to be the case here. See Ibn ʿArabī, al-Futūḥāt
al-Makiyyah, vol. 3, p. 260.
3. In Islamic metaphysics taʿayyun (entification) refers to the
manifestation (ẓuhūr) of a thing as a Self-disclosure (tajallī) of the Divine. Entification is simply that by
which one thing is differentiated from another and thus fully its own self or
entity. The term seems to have been coined by Ibn ʿArabī and then made a technical
philosophical term by his foremost disciple, Ṣadr al-Dīn Qūnawī (d. 1274). The
entifications are the different levels of manifestation or ‘Self-disclosure’
that make up the created order from the first self-determination of the Divine
Essence (the Essence itself being beyond entification) to the pebbles on the
sea shore.
1. Here the term ‘form’ (ṣūrah) is used in the
philosophical sense wherein it denoted the eternal reality of a thing, or the
‘intelligible reality’ of a thing that can be perceived by the actualized human
intellect.
1. A ‘configuration’ (nashʾah) refers to a world (ʿālam) or one of the various
cosmic realms. Here ʿthe elemental configurationʾ refers to the lowest world, that of
the four elements.
2. The word maʿnā is here translated as
‘meaning’, but its meaning is far more nuanced. As William Chittick writes: ‘It
designates not abstract, mental notions, or ideas in the modern sense, but
rather concrete, spiritual realities that exist independently of the mental
faculties in the realm of the First Intellect. The term is used more or less
synonymously with reality (ḥaqīqah), quiddity (māhiyyah), and fixed entity (ʿayn thābit). It is thus a synonym for
form (ṣūrah) in the philosophical sense, but not
in the Sufi sense. In philosophical usage … form is contrasted with matter (māddah). The forms are the maʿqūlāt, the ‘intelligibles’ or
eternal realities that come to be known when the intellect is actualized. In
the Sufi usage, meaning is a thing’s reality with God or the First Intellect,
whereas form is the thing’s outward appearance. Thus ‘meanings’ in the Sufi
sense are the same as ‘forms’ in the philosophical sense’. Mullā Ṣadrā, The
Elixir of the Gnostics, translated, introduced and annotated by William
Chittick (Provo, UT, 2003), p. 101, n. 15.
3. This section heading is not
part of the original text, but is added by Āshtiyānī (p. 205). I have followed
him in this because it marks a natural break within the original text.
4. We have translated māhiyyah throughout as ‘quiddity’, but have here translated
in the literal sense as ‘what-is-it-ness’ to bring out the correlation with ‘halliyyah’ or ‘whatness’, a rarely used Arabic word
deriving from the interrogative particle ‘hal’ which
has no direct translation in English, but turns a statement of fact into a
question when placed at the beginning of an Arabic sentence.
1. The Āmulī reads iʿtibāriyyāt (p. 53). Iʿtibārāt is printed in the Āshtiyānī
edition, though iʿtibāriyyāt is noted as an alternative
(p. 207).
2. Both Āshtiyānī and Āmulī
agree that this is a citation from The Guiding Wisdom, but do not give an exact
citation. The work appears to be unavailable at present.
1. Text reads azkiyā’ (those who are pure), though adhkiyā’
(those who are intelligent) may be the proper reading.
2. Both editions read ‘ṣaḥibihim’ (their companions) but note
that ṣināʿatihim is in an alternative
manuscript. I have chosen the alternative.
3. Āshtiyānī notes: ‘For the
existence of things in the manner of the real oneness which is the level of
unicity (al-aḥadiyyah) is existence according to
the verifier, not the philosopher. And its existence in the manner of
multiplicity and the heedlessness (ghaflah) of
oneness is existence according to the philosopher, not the verifier. So the
point of agreement is the existence of things through external existences which
pertain to themselves.’
4. Āshtiyānī notes: ‘In
accordance with the claim that the quiddities are modes of existences; for all
that is existence according to the philosopher is existence according to the
verifier, not the opposite.’
This sentence in the text is very poorly edited and makes
little sense in the printed edition. This is the closest approximation I could
make.
1. This heading does not appear
to part of the original text, though it does appear in both critical editions.
Āmulī adds ‘and this is the second issue’ to the heading (p. 55).
1. Secondary intelligibles are
notions which have no corresponding existent in the external world. They are
divided into logical secondary intelligibles and philosophical secondary
intelligibles. The latter is what the author is here addressing. For
philosophical secondary intelligibles the occurrence is in the mind, but the
qualification is derived from a real existent. Ibn Turkah is arguing against
those who believe that existence is merely a philosophical secondary
intelligible, because quiddity precedes existence ontologically and existence
is therefore a notion derived from quiddity.
2. For later Islamic
philosophers, existents are of three different kinds: negatively conditioned (bi-sharṭ lā shayʾ), non-conditioned (lā bi-sharṭ shayʾ), and conditioned by
something (bi-sharṭ shayʾ). Absolute Existence must be
negatively conditioned is a second stage of existence which is intermediate
between absolute existence and relative, conditioned existence. This
intermediate stage is referred to as ‘unfolded existence’ wherein the absolute existence
begins the process of unfolding itself in different delineated manifestations,
but is still absolute existence. Ibn Turkah is here criticizing those who
misunderstand the level of unfolded existence, seeing it as a form of existence
which is conditioned by something and thereby posing multiplicity in the
absolute itself. For a fuller explanation see Toshiko Izutsu, The Fundamental Structure of Sabzawarī’s Metaphysics,
chapter 7, ‘The structure of the Reality of Existence.’
1. i.e. from the argument that
if it were non-existent it would need to be qualified by something through
opposition to it and the thing qualified abides with the qualification and
something does not abide with its negation.
Maḥmūd Shabistarī and Shams al-Dīn
Lāhījī
The commentary of Lāhījī upon the Gulshan-i rāz
of Maḥmūd
Shabistarī is one of the most important texts of philosophical Sufism in the
Persian language while the Gulshan-i rāz (The Secret
Garden of Divine Mystery) itself is a supreme masterpiece of Persian Sufi
poetry. In introducing this section an account must be given, needless to say,
of both Shabistarī and Lāhījī. The Gulshan-i rāz was
written in a period of a few days by Maḥmūd Shabistarī in response to a number of questions sent to him by the
Khurāsānī Sufi master Amīr Ḥusayn Hirawī, who was a khalīfah of the
celebrated Suhrawardiyyah Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Zakariyyāʾ of Multan. The Gulshan-i rāz, consisting of
about a thousand verses, soon became extremely famous and has remained to this
day one of the most widely read and oft-quoted of Sufi poems because it
combines heavenly-inspired beauty with remarkable clarity and simplicity while
discussing the most important elements of ʿirfān. Yet, despite the exceptional fame of this work, little is known about
the life of its author.
What we know about Saʿd al-Dīn Maḥmūd ibn Amīn al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Karīm Shabistarī
is that he was born in a town near Tabriz by the name of Shabistar. He studied
in that area, and travelled in various Islamic countries such as Egypt, Arabia
and Anatolia. He underwent Sufi training with at least two known masters of
Azarbaijan, Shaykh Amīn al-Dīn and Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn. He was famous as both a Sufi and a
religious scholar and died in Shabistar where his tomb is to be found to this
day. It is believed that he was born in 687/1288 and, according to most
scholars of later centuries, died in 720/1320–1321 at the age of thirty-three.
Some recent scholars, basing themselves mostly on a work by Ḥāfiẓ Ḥusayn Karbalāʾī Tabrīzī entitled Rawḍāt al-jinān (The Garden
of Paradise), one of the earliest works to mention Shabistarī, believe,
however, that the poet died some twenty years later in 740/1339–1340.
Shabistarī also wrote a few other works, among the most important being Ḥaqq
al-yaqīn (The Truth of Certainty) and Mirʾāt al-muḥaqqiqīn (Mirror of the Verifiers).
It is
known that Shabistarī was a Sunni in madhhab and an
Ashʿarite
in kalām. But above all else he was a Sufi deeply
influenced by the teachings of the School of Ibn ʿArabī. Much of the Gulshan-i
rāz is pure metaphysics in Persian poetic form, sometimes one or two
lines summarizing a whole treatise of the Shaykh al-Akbar. In his Saʿādat-nāmah (The Treatise
on Happiness), Maḥmūd Shabistarī writes that he studied the Futūḥāt and the Fuṣūṣ of Ibn ʿArabī thoroughly, but
that despite this deep attraction to his works and command of his teachings,
felt a certain unease when reading them. His master explained to him that this
unease came from a dark element of his own soul but reflected in Ibn ʿArabī’s writings. In any
case along with ʿIrāqī, Shams al-Dīn Lāhījī and Jāmī, Shabistarī is the greatest Sufi
poet of the Persian language associated with the gnosis and philosophical
Sufism of the School of Ibn ʿArabī. As for his Gulshan-i rāz, it is a
unique work of the Persian language in combining poetry of celestial
inspiration with the lucid exposition of the most profound metaphysical teachings.
Precisely because of its
clarity and its synthesizing nature, the Gulshan-i rāz
became the subject of numerous commentaries over the ages, from those of Kamāl
al-Dīn Ḥusayn
Ardibīlī, Shāh Dāʿī ilaʾLlāh, Niẓām al-Dīn Maḥmūd Ḥusaynī and Qādī Mīr Ḥusayn Yazdī, to the Mishwāq (Incitement to
Yearning) of Mullā Muḥsin Fayḍ Kāshānī, which is a commentary on a number of symbols used in the Gulshan, to Muḥammad Iqbāl’s ‘new’ Gulshan-i rāz. Besides
Iqbāl, other commentators were formally Sufis belonging to various schools of taṣawwuf, but one can also
count an Ismaili commentator among them.
The most important
commentary is, however, that of Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Yaḥyā Lāhījī entitled Mafātīḥ al-iʿjāz fī
sharḥ gulshan-i rāz (Keys of
Wonder in the Commentary upon the Gulshan-i rāz)
written in 877/1473. This long work of over 800 pages in its current edition is
based entirely on Ibn ʿArabian terminology and provides a complete cycle of ʿirfān written in clear Persian and embellished with poems of many other
Sufis especially Rūmī and Maghribī. It is certainly among the most complete and
thorough texts of philosophical Sufism in the Persian language.
Little is known about the
life of Lāhījī except that he was the foremost khalīfah
of the famous Sufi master Sayyid Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh and belonged to the Nūrbakhshiyyah Order. He entered
the order in 849/1445 and served his master for sixteen years. It is also known
that he enjoyed great fame as a major Sufi master during his own lifetime, died
in Shiraz in 912/1506–1507 and is buried in that city near the Shāh Dāʿī Gate. He was visited by
such famous philosophers as Dawānī, Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr Dashtakī and Qāḍī Maybudī, all of whom
held him in utmost respect. It is said that Lāhījī always wore black and that
when Shah Ismāʿīl visited him and asked why he did so, Lāhījī announced that he was in
mourning throughout the year for the death of Imam Ḥusayn. There was, however, a more esoteric
reason. In his commentary Lāhījī speaks of the meaning of black light which Shabistarī mentions and identifies with the state of
realization of Reality beyond all manifestation and differentiation. It is said
that Lāhījī identified himself with that station and therefore wore black.
Besides this commentary,
Lāhījī composed a mathnawī entitled Asrār al-shuhūd (Mysteries of Contemplation) and a dīwān of poetry in which he used the pen-name Asīrī. But
his most important work is without doubt the commentary upon the Gulshan-i rāz, a selection of which appears below.
S. H. Nasr
COMMENTARY ON THE SECRET GARDEN OF
DIVINE MYSTERY
Sharḥ gulshan-i rāz
Translated for this volume by Mohammad H.
Faghfoory from Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Lāhījī Gīlānī, Sharḥ
gulshan-i rāz, ed. with an introduction by ʿAlī Qulī Maḥmudī Bakhtyārī (Tehran,
1381 Sh./2002), pp. 69–104.
It is generally held among the seekers of
truth that the first obligation of those obedient to God who reach the age of
adolescence is knowledge of God (maʿrifat
Allāh), which is the foundation of all realized
knowledge and religious beliefs. In relation to this, the obligation of all the
mandatory rites and religious duties becomes secondary. With regard to the
particulars, the paths to acquire Divine knowledge are countless, [for it has
been said that] the roads toward God are as numerous as the number of God’s
creatures. In respect to the universals, however, there are two ways toward
this end. One is through rational arguments (istidlāl),
and the second through intuition and unveiling (kashf),
as has been discussed previously.
The way of rational argument
is to seek proof of the Creator from the created. The way of unveiling is for
the created to remove the veils of [Divine] beauty. Both of these paths rely on
the intellect and contemplation, for intellection and contemplation are ways of
journeying from the manifest to the non-manifest, from the form to the meaning.
Therefore, the contemplative man first questions his own intellect and says, ‘I
am perplexed with regard to my own intellect’. One of the first difficulties
that arises is that I am bewildered about the nature of my own intellect and
cannot properly comprehend what is called ‘intellection’ in the terminology of
the seekers of truth. He [Shabistarī] states that knowing the nature of
intellection is an obligation because it is necessary for the knowledge of God.
Poem:
Knowledge is the foundation
of knowing God,
It is like the sight for the
eye of the heart.
On the path of knowing God,
you will never be on the right course,
Until you know yourself
well.
Since real knowledge of
God, that is to say becoming connected to the Real Origin, is attainable only
through a vertical journey toward Him, and because the dominance of the
contingent rules of multiplicities prevent seeing the beauty of the One
Necessary Being, [Shabistarī] alludes to the special journey upon which
knowledge of God depends.
Poem:
You asked, ‘Tell me what is
intellection?
For I have remained
perplexed about its meaning’.
Since you asked this
question repeatedly [I shall answer] so that the eager
Seeker is encouraged and
devotes his total attention to the answer.
[Shabistarī] says:
Intellection is a journey
from falsehood to Truth.
It is to see in the
particular the Absolute Universal.
Falsehood stands in
opposition to the truth. Truth is of two categories: the real (ḥaqīqī) and that which is relational to it (iḍāfī), and so is false. The Real Truth is the Being of the One Absolute
Being who stands opposite to non-existence. Therefore, the real false is
non-existence, ‘Be aware that all things except God are false’.
Relative falsehood is that
which is real only in relation to something lower than itself. For example,
honey is useful and real only in relation to moist and cold natures, and
harmful and false in relation to hot and dry natures. The skin of melon and
rice and the straw of wheat are false in relation to man because they are not
edible, but they are real and useful in relation to animals, and so forth.
The relatively real and
relatively false are both categories of the real Truth, for they are under the
category of existence and not outside of it. By the true and false of this
group we mean ‘real true’ and ‘real false’. The meaning of this poem is that
intellection, according to this group, is the wayfarer’s journey toward
unveiling multiplicities and entifications, which are in reality non-existence
in relation to the Truth, that is to say, in relation to the Absolute Unity of
Being which is the Real Truth. This journey consists of the wayfarer reaching
the station of the annihilation in God (fanāʾ
fi’Llāh), and the disappearance of all particles of
engendered things in the rays of the light of the unity of His Essence like a
drop in the ocean.
Poem:
Travel on this path in such
a mannerthat duality disappears.
And if duality still
remains,
It will begin to disappear
As you proceed on the path.
You shall not become Him,
but if you try,
You will reach a station
where your ‘I-ness’ will disappear.
The second stanza of
the [previous] poem, which asserts, ‘It is to see in the particulars the
Absolute Universal’, is an allusion to [attaining] utmost perfection in knowing God (maʿrifah), which is finding subsistence in God (baqāʾ
bi’Llāh). There is no station above this station.
There are differences among stations of those who have reached union [with
God], because often entification and individuation prevent witnessing true
Unity. He says that in the terminology of the people of the path [i.e. Sufis],
intellection, which is the means of acquiring God’s knowledge, refers to the
path on which the wayfarer finds that his own individuality and all other
individualities are immersed in the ocean of Divine Unity. After annihilation
and return to his original nothingness, he [a Sufi] would find subsistence in
God (baqāʾ bi’Llāh). Hence he will
see all visible and invisible things and those phenomena which are the locus of
the manifestation of a single Truth that is manifested in different forms and
in different places. He would see the single Truth manifested in all contingent
things.
Poem:
For the sake of those who
have discernment,
The One God made the six
directions
The locus of manifestation
of His signs of power.
That is why the Noble Being
told us,
‘Wherever you turn, there is
His Face.’
If I drink water in a
pitcher to quench my thirst,
I am witnessing the Truth
hidden in the water.
With discernment and a
truth-seeking eye, the wayfarer will become free of the pain of otherness (ghayriyyah) and see the Absolute Truth in every single
entity that is in fact part of the totality of Truth. If one looks with
discernment [one will realize that] all entifications are the very same
Absolute which is entified. In reality, entification is a contingent being that
has not been actualized in the external world, and other than the Absolute
Being there is no reality. This station is the utmost degree of witnessing by
those who have attained perfection.
Since he [the Shaykh] has
presented the description of intellection in the terminology of the people of
vision and witness, he also alludes to the way of the people of opinion and
rational argument and says: ‘And to Allah belongs the East and the West, so
wherever to turn you shall see Allah’s Countenance. Verily Allah is
All-Encompassing and All-Knowing’ (Qurʾān 2:115). Philosophers who have reflected on this,
have confirmed it.
A philosopher (ḥakīm) is a person who knows through rational argument and acts on the basis
of that knowledge. According to truth-seeking people, one is not called a
philosopher (ḥakīm) merely on the
basis of one’s knowledge of things. [The meaning of the poem is that] the wise
who have contemplated and commentated on the meaning of intellection, have
defined it as follows:
Poem:
When a hypothesis appears in
one’s heart,
First it is called
recollection.
It means whenever a
form from among forms appears in the soul, it finds its way to the heart. According
to the definition of people it is the rational soul that differentiates among
meanings. Before discussing the notion of intellectual conception, by which we
mean knowledge, there is a form that appears first in the mind called
recollection (tadhakkur). When a philosopher wants to
prove an unknown through rational argument and reason, he must first gather
desired principles and precepts so that he can demonstrate the known principles
from the unknown. Therefore, whenever he conceptualizes the preliminary
information that he knows [whether its principles are known or unknown] he is
recollecting or being reminded (tadhakkur). This is
because he had forgotten [the truth] and now he has remembered it, for there is
a thirst to know the unknown. That is to say, understanding that which is known
and perceived in general terms has to reach the heart, but because of physical
impurities and obstacles one forgets what he has perceived but may remember
with full concentration and removal of obstacles. Those things become known
because of the removal of the obstacles. As some philosophers have stated,
although in the beginning he knew the principles of things, he had forgotten
them because he did not pay attention to them. When he pays attention to
remembering them, he is thus reminded of them. [However], merely remembering
those principles is not enough to learn them. Further consideration and
contemplation are needed.
Poem:
When you recollect something
during contemplation,
In common usage it is called
taking heed (ʿibrat).
The above lines state that when one comes
across the principles one seeks, one should think about the quality of the
known and the unknown. If what one seeks is conceptual (taṣawwurī), how should its universal or particular aspects, or genus (jins) and specific differentia (faṣl), be arranged and prioritized so that it can lead toward knowing that
which is sought? And if the unknown is a conceptual judgment (taṣdīq), how should the
hierarchical order of the two initial concepts be in the general (iqtirānī) and exceptional (istithnāʾī) analogy to lead toward the desired result?
As for the second part of the poem,
it tells us that the philosophical term for the concept that was just
mentioned, according to his interpretation, is ʿibrat, which derives from ʿubūr, meaning
‘transition’. That is why bridges built over rivers and passages are called maʿbar, which means ‘the
place of transition’, because people use them to pass from one point to
another. At this point a philosopher has gone past conceptualizing preliminary
precepts, and in a special way has attained that which he was seeking. That is
why it is called ʿibrat, because
conceptualizing precepts in such a manner leads to the desired results, as he
said:
Poem:
A hypothesis upon which one
reflects
Is called intellection by
the people of reason.
When conceptualization is
accompanied by contemplation, as described,
By the people of intellect
who are masters of rational discourse, and know things according to the laws of
intellect,
This is called intellection
(tafakkur).
Now Shabistarī
describes intellection according to the definition of the people of intellect
and says:
Poem:
Through hierarchical order
of known hypotheses,
The unknown is proved and
becomes known.
Since intellect is
defined as the hierarchical order (tartīb) of known
principles that lead to the discovery of the unknown, know that the view of the
people of knowledge is that meditation and intellection require finding the
unknown through that which is known. Undoubtedly, it is not possible to find
every unknown just through every known, and therefore it is necessary to find
each unknown through the known that corresponds to it. In addition, there is no
doubt that acquiring a particular unknown from what is known is not possible in
every sense that one may desire; rather, it requires a particular order (tartīb) of those known things, which are contingent on
whether they are in relation to a concept (taṣawwur) or a judgment (taṣdīq), as was mentioned previously.
The known consist of those
known subjects that are the basis (mabādī) of the
objective that is sought. From that particular hierarchical order, the proof of
the unknown becomes known, in other words, the proof of the unknown objective
becomes known. For example, the reality of a human being is an unknown
hypothesis composed of two parts, that of an animal and a rational faculty, in
a special hierarchical order that prioritizes the universal over the
particular. The creation of the world, a conceptual unknown, is composed of the
concept of a changing world and the concept of a created universal that
undergoes change. This is how the particular hierarchical order, that is the
priority of the major premise over minor premise, and the necessity of the
minor and the universality of major and the like are understood, that is to say,
how the conclusion becomes known and proved.
Know that a conceptual
hypotheses (majhūl-i taṣawwurī) is derived from a concept and a conceptual judgment (majhūl-i taṣdīqī) is derived from
concepts. However, no one has presented an explanation why taṣawwur cannot be derived from taṣdīq and vice-versa. Therefore, it is possible that it could also happen.
Here, his statement that the proof of the unknown becomes known could be an
allusion to the fact that it could be possible for it to happen. Although proving
a concept among the seekers of truth is defined as knowledge based upon a
hypothetical subject that is predicated upon the relationship between the two,
among the possessors of intuition, in fact, taṣdīq is taken to denote its literal meaning, not a logical concept. Since
during the formation of the unknown concepts, the known concepts must be
prioritized and their hierarchies determined, the two must meet in the middle
so that they would lead to the proof of the concept that is desired. As he said:
Poem:
The major premise is like a
father,
Followed by the minor
premise, which is like a mother.
O brother! Know that the
result is like a child.
In predicative
propositions, the minor and major premises and in conditional propositions (qaḍāyā-yi sharṭiyyah), the two premises that are technically one after the other, are like
a man (father) and a woman (mother) who marry each other, and a child is born
out of their marriage. Shabistarī expressed this in philosophical terminology
and said that the details of such a disposition need to observe certain rules:
Poem:
But such an order in its
details,
Is in need of following
certain rules.
The above discourse
advocates contemplation in the style of philosophers, and says that the way
people of intellect obtain knowledge requires them to ascertain the rules.
These rules are universal and correspond to all their particulars and
components in order to be applicable to them. Here, by ‘rule’ we mean the
science of logic whose rules are universal and explain the order of existents
of the known in a manner that would lead to the discovery of the hypothetical
or conceptual unknown. However, attaining real certainty, which is peace of
heart and liberation from the anxiety of doubt, is not possible except through
witnessing and examining that which corresponds to ʿayn al-yaqīn and ḥaqq al-yaqīn (The Truth
of Certainty). As he said:
Poem:
If all those efforts are not
accompanied by God’s help,
Indeed it would be nothing
but sheer emulation.
If
the special order and the rules of logic, argumentation, and proofs are not
accompanied by Divine Guidance, which includes also spiritual preparedness and
inner purity, and if the heart is not illuminated by Divine Light, nothing will
be accomplished except pure imitation and repetition.
Poem:
That imitating man is like a
handicapped person;
Although he possesses reason
and sound argument,
The depth of his argument
and form of presentation
Distance him from
discernment and sound judgment.
Since multiplicity and
unity are contradictory, it is hardly possible for man to attain Divine
knowledge by merely relying on the hierarchical order of premises (muqaddamāt). As he points out:
The road is long and tedious, abandon that.
Like Moses cast thy staff
aside for a while.
Philosophers and
theologians unanimously agree that understanding the reality of things by way
of rational argumentation and reason alone is most difficult. Acquiring
knowledge of God’s Attributes and Essence is impossible, as it has been said:
‘The reality of God’s Attributes and Essence is hidden from the understanding
of reason.’ Whenever we perceive a conceptual judgment (taṣdīqī) and seek to understand it in the most perfect manner, our mind must
be directed toward that which it knows so that it can pass from one object of
knowledge to another in an undifferentiated manner until it can find its
desired object of knowledge. Our mind already knows those knowables as
principles (mabādī), but the mind must put the
principles in a special order that leads it toward the unknown which it is
looking for. Obviously that special order requires paying attention to that
which is sought, detaching the mind from ties and attachments and directing the
mind toward the intelligibles (maʿqūlāt).
In spite of all this, that
which is related to the [Divine] Essence must be appropriately differentiated
from that which is concerned with Attributes. Otherwise, truths will remain
hidden. That is why he [Shabistarī] said: ‘That journey is long and tedious,
abandon it.’ For after endless troubles, the ultimate result is that
understanding the reality of things can only be attained through attributes and
characteristics of things. Acquiring Divine knowledge, exalted is He, is a
spiritual journey to His immanent, negative Attributes, and this kind of
knowledge (maʿrifah) will not be free
of doubts and can be understood through illusive imaginations. Gaining perfect
knowledge about things is thus impossible by this method. Acquiring true
knowledge will not be possible except through purification and illumination of
the heart. Purification is contingent upon the negation
of all that is other than God, for as long as a pungent substance is not
cleansed from the heart with the water of invocation, the inscription of real ṭawhīd will not be engraved upon it. The way of reason that is based on
proving something on the basis of logical demonstration (burhān)
is the opposite of the way of purification. For a man of discursive
orientation, reason is the explanation and elaboration of the reasoned, whereas
for the gnostic, reason is a veil for the reasoned. Therefore, the more reasons
one presents, the more hidden the object of inquiry becomes. Indeed the utmost
perfection of ṭawhīd is negation of
otherness, as it has been said: ‘The perfect form of ṭawhīd is negation of attributes from it.’ That which is a rational
argumentation for a scholar is intuitively demonstrated for a gnostic (ʿārif); that which is the veil of the Face of the
Veiled is the mirror of the beauty of the Beloved held before the people of
vision and discovery.
Poem:
The perfection of the man on
the path of certainty is that
He will see God in whatever
he sees.
As for the second part of the poem
which says, ‘Like Moses cast thy staff aside for a while’, the staff represents
rational argumentation (istidlālī). The
correspondence between these two is very obvious, for just as the blind man
relies on his staff to walk, those whose hearts are not illuminated with the
‘staff ’ of unveiling, and cannot see true unity with a spiritual eye, walk on
the path of gnosis (maʿrifah) with the help of the ‘staff ’ of rational argumentation.
Poem:
The abode of our intellect
and reflection is the realm of [Divine] Attributes.
Divine Essence is far
superior to knowledge and gnosis.
His Light is enough to be
the guide of the caravan,
Nobody who follows the Truth
will ever get lost.
One should know the command
and creation only from God,
[Do you know anyone] who
came to know of God through this or that person?
In other words, as long
as Moses was saying, ‘The Lord of Heaven and Earth’, the Pharaoh did not
believe him and kept saying, ‘Verily your prophet whom God sent to you is mad.’
When [God] commanded [Moses] to ‘cast away thy staff ’, the light of unity
appeared from behind the veil of that which was visible and destroyed all the
illusions and imaginary realities that the Pharaoh had accumulated, for ‘It
swallowed up whatever they [sorcerers] had brought forth’ (Qurʾān 7:117). Therefore, the
seeker of God must totally abandon the way of rational argument and pay
attention to the Real Originator. With the guidance of a perfect spiritual
guide he must purify his heart from the dust of
strangers so that the beauty of the True Beloved will be shown in that mirror.
Whatever other people have heard will then become visible to him.
Poem:
Because it was made possible
for me to see [the Face of the Beloved],
Today, I am not a hostage to
the Day of Judgment.
Dhaʿlab Yamānī once asked His
Holiness Ḥaẓrat ʿAlī, ‘Did you see your Lord?’ ʿAlī replied, ‘Would I worship that which I do not see?’ and added, ‘I
saw Him, then I recognized Him, then I worshipped Him. I would not worship a
lord which I do not see.’ As the Qurʾān says: ‘Whoever hopes to meet his Lord, he must do righteous deeds
and must worship his Lord and not assign a partner unto his Lord’ (Qurʾān 18:110).
Poem:
I [am the one] who can see
the Beauty of the Friend eye to eye,
I do not need any
description of His Face.
The eye that is weak in its
sight,
Is blind during the day like
a bat.
Since the path that
leads to the Friend is the path of lovers who are the people of purity, and
because these people go toward the path of Divine Unity through unveiling and
witnessing, he [Shabistarī] said:
Poem:
Come to the abode of peace
where suddenly,
A bush will tell you ‘Verily
I am God.’
In the above poem, the
abode of peace consists of purifying the heart in a manner that makes it worthy
of God’s theophany, for witnessing the Beauty of the Possessor of Majesty is
not possible through the aforementioned path. The bush is the reality of
humanity that is the locus of the manifestation of Divine Attributes and
Essence. This meaning is taken from the verse of the Qurʾān where God says: ‘When
[Moses] reached [the bush] he was called from the right side of the valley in
the blessed field from the bush: O Moses verily I am God, the Lord of this
world and the next.’
In other words, from the
abode of peace that is the goal of the path of purification of the heart and
adornment of the soul comes Divine emanation and opening, especially for the
people of witness and unveiling. In the blessed field, where the realm of the
Perfect Man lies, one seeks what one seeks. In the world of multiplicities
there is no realm more blessed than that where a special bush alludes to its own perfection, which is the reality of the bush, and says
to Moses, ‘verily I am the nurturer of the people of this world and the next.’
Poem:
I[ness] and we[ness] are the
veils of the path,
When we [ness] disappears,
we are not ‘we’.
In this poem the Shaykh
calls the aspiring wayfarer on the path and advises him to follow the path of
purification and cleanse the mirror of the heart from the dust of strangers so
that by virtue of the dominance of the theophany of the One, and unity of the
symbol and the symbolized, with the ear of his heart he will hear the call of ‘Verily I am Allāh’ and with the truth-seeing eye he will
see and know himself and God.
When a gnostic reaches the
utmost degree of witnessing and unveiling of [the truth] without the
disturbance of illusions by impurities, he sees in all things the Beauty of the
Unity of the Absolute One, as he said:
Poem:
For the truth-seeking man
for whom unity is in witnessing,
The first glance is to the
light of Being.
A seeker of truth is
that Perfect Man for whom the reality of things have been disclosed and
revealed as they are. This station is only attainable for the person who has
reached the station of Divine Witnessing and who, with the eye of vision, has
seen that the reality of all things is, in fact, the Truth. Other than the One
Absolute Being no other being exists. The existence of other things is nothing
more than pure attribution.
Poem:
The eye that sees the Truth
cannot see anything other than the Truth,
The falsity lies only in the
eyes of those without vision.
What is meant by unity
(waḥdah) is Unity of the
Truth as it is manifested by Itself in the realm of multiplicities, for it has
illuminated the created order with the light of existence. It is the witnessing
of the vision of the Truth by the Truth. In other words, the Perfect Man has
traversed the illusive stations of multiplicities of forms and meanings and has
reached the station of witnessing Divine Unity (tawḥīd) with the truth-seeing eye, and he who possesses the eye of the Truth
sees the Truth in all forms of existing things. Since he sees himself and all
created things as subsisting in God, inevitably ‘otherness’ and ‘duality’ are
removed from his sight. Therefore, whatever he sees is seen by the Truth and
known by the Truth. In seeing all things he first sees the light of the Being
of the Absolute One. He who witnesses in this way is like a person who has two
pairs of eyes by which he sees God manifested and the created world as
non-manifested. Creation for him is the mirror of the Truth in which the Truth
is manifested and creation veiled, as the mirror itself is hidden by the face.
Poem:
In the theophany of that
Essence,
Existence manifested Itself
to my eye.
So whatever I see, I see in
His vision.
Poem:
Whatever I look at, I see
Thy Face.
That is because only Thou
comest before my sight.
In some manuscripts the
first part
of the poem ‘The seeker of truth for whom Unity is in witnessing’ is recorded
as ‘The seeker of Truth who has witnessed Divine Unity’. In this case it means
that the seeker of Truth is the one who has attained divine knowledge through
witnessing and unveiling, and not by way of reason and rational argumentation.
This is because for a gnostic, the Truth consists of the Absolute Being. The
Shaykh [Shabistarī] considers the Absolute Being and Truth as synonymous. He
says:
The heart that witnessed the light and purity of Divine Knowledge,
In whatever he saw, he saw
God first.
This indicates that the
one who grasps the reality of things in the creation of human beings, which is
the essence of the forms of engendered things, possesses a heart that is
illuminated with purity and the light of knowledge (maʿrifah). The heart is the locus of the manifestation of the Divine Station (shaʾn) and the essence of
human beings. As Maghribī said:
You are that Treasure which became hidden
From the sight of the two
worlds in the ruins of the heart.
A gnostic is a person
whom Divine Presence has elevated to the station of witnessing His Attributes
and Essence. This station comes by way of attaining certain states and through
the unveiling [of Truth], which descends upon such a person not merely by
virtue of his knowledge, for it has been said that knowledge is like an eye for
such a person and maʿrifah is the state of being a gnostic. A heart that is adorned with this
perfection sees God first in whatever he sees. This is the station of dhu’l-ʿaynayn, that is to say,
where one possesses two [a pair of] eyes. As was mentioned before, [such a
person] sees God as manifest and creation as non-manifest. The most visible
thing in creation is God, who is the Truth, because He is manifest by Himself
whereas other things are manifested through Him. Do you not see that, for
example, if an object is seen from a far distance, its existence is perceived
first? However, sometimes it happens that because the distance is too far, it
is not clear whether it is an object, or a bear, or something else. But under
all circumstances it is perceived by the reality of its existence. Otherwise it
does not exist, because other than that form everything is non-existent. That
is why the seeker of truth says, ‘God is perceived and creation is
intelligible’.
Poem:
Thy Face is manifest in the
universe but is hidden in essence.
If It is hidden, then what
is manifest in the universe?
The universe has become the
locus of manifestation of Thy Goodness and Beauty,
O my Beloved, tell me where
the locus of manifestation and the soul of the Universe is?
In the previous poem,
[the Shaykh] says that the first glance is upon the light of Being. In the
above poem he adds, ‘Whatever he saw, he first saw God in it’. To clarify,
according to this group who seeks the Truth, God is the One Being that is
manifested in a [specific] form in each place. Since the witnessing of the
people of vision varies according to their dispositions in different times, in
his description of Divine Names each person has informed us from another
station. One says, ‘I saw nothing unless I saw God before it’.
Poem:
By God, in whatever we set
our sight,
We did not see other than
God.
We explained this
station before. Another person says, ‘I saw nothing unless I saw God after it’.
Since Reality is hidden and veiled by certain accidents and entifications, the
seeker first sees the veil and then witnesses the Truth.
Poem:
Beyond this veil I have a
Beloved,
The beauty of Her face is
worthy of being veiled.
The whole universe is like a
curtain filled by many forms,
And all things are designed
over that curtain.
This veil separated me from
Thee,
This is what a veil does by
nature.
No! No! There is never
separation between us,
Never would this veil
separate Thee from me.
The person who
possesses this station is called ‘possessor of intellect’ and sees creation as
manifest and God as non-manifest and hidden. For him God is the mirror of
creation, and like the hiding of the Absolute in the relative, the mirror
itself appears hidden in that station. This station is the opposite of the previous
one (Possessor of Eye) which we described. Another person said, ‘I saw nothing
unless I saw God in it’. Similar to the contingent archetypal entities that are
reflected in their manifestations, the cup and the bowl are realities in which
wine has been contained.
Poem:
Are these bowls that are
illuminated with wine,
Or suns that are covered by
clouds?
Poem:
From the purity of the wine
and the subtlety of the cup,
The colour of the wine
became mixed and transformed.
As though all is cup, and
wine is not,
Or all is wine, and cup is
not.
Still somebody else
utters, ‘I saw nothing unless I saw God with it’. For according to the law of
union, the symbol and the symbolized, and the lover and the Beloved, do not
possess existence outside of each other, although the intellect makes such a
distinction between the two and regards the reality of each one as independent
and different from the other.
Poem:
If you can differentiate the
lover from the Beloved,
You shall see with certainty
that—
The king and the beggar are
companions of each other.
The one who reaches
this station is called ‘the possessor of intellect and eye’ and sees God in
creation and creation in God, and by witnessing one, he is not veiled from the
other. Rather, from one perspective he sees the One Being as God, and from
another as a created world. By seeing the multiplicity of the locus of
manifestation, he is not veiled from witnessing the One.
Poem:
This universe is—
But the scene of theophany
of the Friend’s Countenance.
What
is the manifestation of the universe, but all is He?
Although in appearance the
universe is the locus of His manifestation,
If you look with
discernment,
Both the symbol and the
symbolized is He.
In reality, there is no
existent other than the Beloved,
Reflection of everything
else is your illusive imagination.
The Friend Himself is the
mirror of His Face,
In the reflection of the
mirror where is any other than the Friend?
Since for the people of
vision attaining that which is sought through intellection is contingent upon
detachment of the mind from inhibiting preoccupations, the Shaykh asserts:
Proper intellection is based on detachment,
And the Light of Divine
providence.
Those people who reach
what they seek through reason and rational argumentation believe that reasoning
has a special kind of hierarchical order. It necessitates contemplating that
which is sought and detaching the mind from intelligibles so that the desired
result is achieved. For the people of the ṭarīqah (spiritual journey), who are the people of spiritual unveiling and
witnessing, intellection, which consists of journeying toward God, (sayr ila’Llāh), journeying in God (sayr
fi’Llāh), and journeying with God (sayr bi’Llāh),
is contingent upon detachment from the outward (tajrīd-i ẓāhir) and keeping the inward alone with God (tafrīd-i bāṭin). In other words, intellection among the people of the ṭarīqah is the abandonment of preoccupation with wealth, property, position
and ambition in the realm of the manifest world. It is abandoning and detaching
oneself and turning away from all that distracts one from remembrance of the
Friend.1
Know that the Necessary
Being is the One whose Being is necessitated by His Essence. Possible being is
that whose existence is not necessitated by its essence. In order for possible
being to exist it is in need of another thing that is its cause for existence.
For philosophers, possible being (caused) by the Necessary Being is a
possibility. That is why he [Shabistarī] said: ‘They try to prove the Necessary
Being by means of contingent being.’
Since in this approach
rationalist philosophers equate existence and non-existence in regards to the
essence of the contingent [beings], they treat them as equals. Neither side of
this equation has preference over the other except by means of its opposite.
For a theologian, the reason for contingent beings is that the Cause wanted a
created order. Contingent beings are made to exist by a Cause through emanation
(ṣudūr) from non-existence to existence. That
is how creation came to be. Some believe that the reason for contingency is the
need to have created beings with specific conditions and orientations. In other
words, philosophers and perhaps followers of reason have argued from the
existence of the contingent to prove the existence of the Necessary Being in an
absolute way. They say that the contingent being, precisely because of its
contingency and createdness, is in need of a cause (creator). If that creator
is a Necessary Being it proves their argument. If it is another contingent
being, then again precisely because of its contingency it is in need of another
cause, which in relation to it would be Necessary Being. So here rationalists
become perplexed. Now, if this contingent being is the same as the first one,
because rationalists try to prove the Necessary Being through contingent being,
they will fall into the trap of a vicious circular argument (dawr). If it is a different one that leads to the Necessary
Being or to infinite possibilities, they shall fall into the trap of infinite
regression (tasalsul). Therefore, since they try to
prove the Necessary Being through contingent beings, they become perplexed in
knowing the Essence of the Necessary Being. What is caused becomes the effect
of the Cause and the essence and attributes are all the effects [of the Cause].
Inevitably, there must be something of the Cause in the effect, and
consequently, in the preliminary principles of reasoning one must include what
results from them. Since the essence of contingent beings for rationalist
philosophers is in every aspect different from the Essence of the Necessary
Being, the Cause could not contain anything of the effect. For as long as
something does not exist in a person, it inevitably follows that he cannot
imagine that thing or convey it to someone else, and that is why he becomes
perplexed and lost.
Poem:
This long distance will
become very short for you,
If you are present in His
Sacred Presence.
What your soul is seeking is
just before you,
Look at it, and do not be
afraid of it.
For fear would push you
further from Him,
The Friend should not be
associated with other than the Friend.
If there is no inherent
connection between a cause and its effect, as rationalist philosophers believe,
then intellectual arguments cannot provide the perfect knowledge that would
lead to the knowledge of certainty. That is why the Shaykh said:
Sometimes they are trapped in a vicious circle of circular arguments (dawr).
Other times they become
prisoners of infinite regression (tasalsul).
Dawr, or circuitous argument, means basing an argument on something upon
which there is no stopping. Tasalsul, or infinite
regression, is when a contingent being causes another
existence that is its effect, and supports that effect by another cause that is
the effect of the first cause and so on ad infinitum. In such an argument,
since the possibility of the equality of existence and non-existence is
present, in order for one to have preference over the other, the contingent
needs a cause. If the cause is the Necessary Being, the argument of the
advocate is proved, and if the cause is contingent, the possibility exists that
the very same contingent cause is the first hypothesis. If another contingent
being is the first cause, the argument becomes circular. However, if the first
possibility is contingent upon the second possibility, and the second on the
first, then it becomes circular regression. This is the problem with circular
arguments and infinite regressions. Regardless of what they postulate regarding
the cause, the argument becomes circular.
Poem:
Circulatory argument is
false, and infinite regression impossible.
Therefore, He is the
Beginning, and the final destination is the Friend.
Since the necessity of
infinite regression is required for the hierarchy of the existing infinite
affairs, the Shaykh said:
When the intellect contemplated His Being,
Its feet became entangled in
infinite regression;
That is to say, when
the intellect of the [rationalist] philosopher reflects on existence or that
which exists in the external world where one possibility is contingent on
another, and another upon another and the like to infinity, infinite regression
wraps itself around the feet of the philosopher. In accordance with the dictum,
‘And your Lord ordained that you do not worship anyone except Him’ (Qurʾān, 17:24) he inevitably
comes to believe that there is only one Necessary Being, for otherwise one of
these two false things, that is, circulatory argument or infinite regression,
becomes necessary. Therefore, it becomes clear [for rationalists] that there
must be one Necessary Being. However, true knowledge (maʿrifah) of reality is not attained by the rationalist because such knowledge
is not acquired through demonstrations and proofs, but by negating that which
is other than Him. The more philosophers try to prove Necessary Being, the more
distant they become from Divine Unity.
Whoever wants to know God
through existent beings is ignorant of the Truth, and whoever tries to know
things through Him is a gnostic (ʿārif). When the Prophet
(Peace be Upon Him) was asked, ‘How did you come to know God?’ He said, ‘I came
to know all things through God.’
O man of excessive claims,
free yourself of knowledge,
Abandon your self so that
Divine Mercy will descend upon you.
Intelligence is the antidote
of failure and need,
Abandon intelligence and be
content with simplicity.
1. Several pages of the text
have been omitted due to the repetition of the content.
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī
ʿAbd al-Raḥmān, later known as Jāmī, was born in 817/1414 in the village of
Kharjird near Jām, a city in the eastern province of Khurāsān. He lived in Jām
until he was about fourteen and then moved to Herat. His mother’s family had
immigrated from Isfahan to Khurāsān while his father, Niẓām al-Dīn Aḥmad Dashtī, was a
prominent member of his community with close connection to the Sufi masters in
the region. We know little of his family life except that, apparently in his
late forties, he married the granddaughter of his Sufi master, Saʿd al-Dīn Kāshgharī, and
had four children. Three of them died, however, affecting him profoundly. The
child who did survive, Ḍiyāʾ al-Dīn, was so special to Jāmī that he composed two books of a
didactic nature for him, Bahāristān (The Book of
Spring) and al-Fawāʾid al-ḍiyāʾiyyah (Benefits of Luminosity). It was after the birth of this son that
Jāmī’s sadness lifted and he composed Nafaḥāt
al-uns min ḥaḍarāt al-quds (Breaths of
Intimacy from the Realms of the Sacred).
Among the Sufi masters in
whose circles Jāmī was raised were Bahāʾ al-Dīn ʿUmar Abardihī, Fakhr al-Dīn Luristānī and the grand master of the
Naqshbandiyyah Sufi order, Khwājah Muḥammad Pārsā. It may have been these early contacts that account for
Jāmī’s later interest in the Naqshbandiyyah which he joined.
Jāmī, who later on also came
to be known as ʿImād al-Dīn (pillar of faith) and Nūr al-Dīn (light of faith), studied
Arabic grammar with his father until he was about fourteen when the family
moved to Herat in today’s Afghanistan. It was there that, despite his youth, he
studied with some of the masters of his time such as Mawlānā Junayd Uṣūlī, with whom he read
the Miftāḥ al-ʿulūm of Sakkākī and Muṭawwal of Taftāzānī with
its commentary. He also studied with Muḥammad Jājarmī and Khwājah ʿAlī Samarqandī who was the distinguished pupil of Mīr Sayyid Sharīf
Jurjānī. Following the completion of his religious studies with the
above-mentioned teachers, Jāmī, who was now in his early twenties, went to
Samarqand. There he met with Qāḍīzādah Rūmī with whom he studied mathematics and astronomy. Jāmī’s
genius was immediately recognized by Rūmī.
Jāmī,
who may have experienced a failed love, had a dream in which a Sufi master by
the name of Saʿd al-Dīn Kāshgharī from Herat addressed his earthly love and his
difficulties. He decided to return to Herat where he spent time with Kāshgharī
who became his Sufi teacher, and under Kāshgharī’s supervision he practised
austere forms of asceticism. A few years after the death of Kāshgharī in
860/1455, Jāmī met ʿUbayd Allāh Aḥrār, another Sufi master from the Naqshbandī order who became more of a
spiritual companion for him. It was Shaykh Aḥrār who instructed Jāmī to abandon research
and scholarship and devote himself entirely to practical wisdom and the
purification of his soul. While Jāmī resided and taught in Herat, he travelled
to Samarqand frequently to meet with the Sufi masters of the Naqshbandī order.
It was during these years
that Jāmī wrote some of his most important works on philosophical Sufism, such
as Naqd al-nuṣūṣ fī sharḥ naqsh al-fuṣūṣ (Critique of Texts on
the Commentary of the Impact of [Ibn ʿArabi’s] Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam). Jāmī was also well versed in the Sufi literary genre and profoundly
influenced by Rūmī’s Sufi poetry, while being fully immersed in the philosophical
gnosis of the School of Ibn ʿArabī. In fact, it appears that after 876/1471, he became increasingly
influenced by Ibn ʿArabī and his vast corpus of writings. His work Ashiʿʿat
al-lamaʿāt (The Flashes of
Light), his commentary upon the Lamaʿāt of Fakhr al-Dīn ʿIrāqī and his own Lawāʾiḥ (Gleams) are clear
indications of his preoccupation with the teachings of the Andalusian master.
Following the invasion of
Herat by Sultan Ḥusayn Mīrzā, who had heard of Jāmī’s rank as a scholar, Jāmī was invited
to stay at the court where he received the attention and prominence he had
deserved. Jāmī decided to make his pilgrimage to Mecca with a large number of
companions. His journey, which took him through Nayshapūr, Sabzawār, Basṭām, Hamadān and Iraq, is
significant in that during this journey he met with a number of learned
scholars and Shiʿi gnostics, especially in Baghdad. While in Hamadān, Jāmī was given
royal treatment by Manūchihr Shah, and later when he was in Baghdad he wrote
the Lawāʾiḥ and dedicated it to the king. Jāmī, who had encountered much hostility
from various Shiʿi communities in Baghdad and Najaf, returned to Tabriz where he met
with Sayyid Aḥmad Lālih, a scholar of Ibn ʿArabī. Despite the insistence of Uzun Ḥasan, the Amir of Tabriz, that Jāmī stay
there permanently, he did not agree and returned to Khurāsān. Jāmī’s status as
a courtier, however, increased when Amīr ʿAlīshīr Nawāʾī, the chamberlain, became his devotee and
was initiated into the Naqshbandī Sufi order by him.
In 884/1479, Jāmī went to
Samarqand for the third time to see Khwājah ʿUbayd Allāh Aḥrār. There the two men discussed Ibn ʿArabī’s al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah (Meccan
Revelations). It was following his return to Herat that Jāmī produced a number
of major works beginning with his collection of poems Fātiḥat
al-shabāb (The Beginning of Youth), his second
collection of poems Wāsiṭat al-ʿiqd (The Focal Point of Union), Shawāhid al-nubuwwah
(Witnesses to Prophecy) and a poetic rendition of Salāmān wa Absāl which he dedicated to Sultan Āq-quyunlū.
In the next two years, his poetic and intellectual genius brought to fruition
such major works as Ashiʿʿat al-lamaʿāt (The Flashes of Light), Arbaʿīn (The Forty) and Tuḥfat al-aḥrār (Deliverance from Perplexity). In 886/1481, the Ottoman sultan Bāyazīd
II invited Jāmī to visit him. Jāmī initially accepted but on his arrival in
Hamadān he heard that plague had spread in the area and returned home. He
composed al-Durrah al-fākhirah (The Precious Pearl),
a comparative work on the ideas of theologians, philosophers and Sufis,
regarding the meaning of existence and its related subjects, and dedicated it
to the sultan.
Jāmī, who from 887/1482 to
the end of his life remained in Herat, devoted himself to teaching and managing
the affairs of Langar-khānah Nurā, a Sufi centre. Most of Jāmī’s mystical
poetry was written in the later period of his life. Two years after he
completed his last work of poetry, ironically titled Khātimat
al-ḥayāt (The End of Life),
he died on a Friday during the month of Muḥarram 898/1492. It needs to be mentioned
that besides being a major authority on gnosis and philosophical Sufism, Jāmī
is considered to be one of the greatest poets of the Persian language with many
famous lyrical poems and romances.
In this chapter we have
included a section of Jāmī’s al-Durrah al-fākhirah
(The Precious Pearl). Jāmī himself describes this work in the introduction
saying:
This is a treatise dealing with the verification of the doctrine of the
Sufis, the theologians and the early philosophers, and with the establishment
of their beliefs concerning the existence of the Necessary Being in Himself,
the realities of His Names and Attributes, the manner in which multiplicity
emanates from His Unity without any impairment to the perfection of His
sanctity and glory, and other subsequent inquiries prompted by thought and
reason.
In treating these
topics, Jāmī touches on a variety of other related subjects such as causality,
and unity and multiplicity, and makes frequent references to major thinkers and
schools. This treatise is important not only because of the nature of the philosophical
arguments it presents, but also from a historical perspective.
M. Aminrazavi
al-Durrah al-fākhirah
Reprinted from Jāmī, al-Durrah
al-fākhirah, together with his glosses and the commentary of ʿAbd al-Ghafūr Lārī, tr.
Nicholas Heer as The Precious Pearl (Albany, NY,
1979), pp. 33–72.
In the Name of God, the Merciful, the
Compassionate
1. Praise be to God, Who became manifest (tajallā) through His Essence (bi-dhātihi)
to His Essence (li-dhātihi), so that the
manifestations (majālī) of His Essence and of His
Attributes became individuated (taʿayyana) in His inner knowledge, the effects (āthār)
of these manifestations being then reflected upon His outward aspect (ẓāhir) from within (al-bāṭin), such that unity (al-waḥdah) became multiplicity (kathrah), as you see
and behold. May God’s blessing and peace be upon him through whom this
multiplicity reverted to its original unity, and upon his family and
companions, who have inherited of this virtue a large portion.
2. To
Proceed, this is a treatise dealing with the verification of the
doctrines of the Sufis, the theologians, and the early philosophers, and with
the establishment of their beliefs concerning the existence of the Necessary
Existent in Himself (al-wājib li-dhātihi), the
realities (ḥaqāʾiq)1 of His names and
attributes, the manner in which multiplicity emanates from His unity without
any impairment (naqṣ) to the perfection of His sanctity and
glory, and other subsequent inquiries (mabāḥith) prompted by thought (al-fikr) and reason (al-naẓar). It is hoped that
God will permit every unbiased seeker to benefit from this treatise and that He
will protect it from every unthinking bigot, for He is sufficient for me and an
excellent guardian.
3. Preface.
Know that there is in existence a necessary existent (wājib),
for otherwise that which exists (al-mawjūd) would be
restricted to contingent being (al-mumkin), and
consequently nothing would exist at all. This is because contingent being, even
though multiple (mutaʿaddid), is not self-sufficient (lā yastaqill) with
respect to its existence, as is obvious, nor with respect to bringing another
into existence, since the stage of bringing-into-existence (martabat
al-ījād) is consequent to that of existence.2 Thus, if there is
neither existence nor bringing-into-existence, there can be nothing that
exists, either through itself or through another. Thus the existence of the
Necessary Existent (al-wājib) is proven.
4.
The apparent position (madhhab) of both Shaykh Abu’l-Ḥasan al-Ashʿarī1 and Shaykh Abu’l-Ḥusayn al-Baṣrī2 of the Muʿtazilites is that the
existence of the Necessary Existent (al-wājib) indeed
the existence of everything, is identical with its essence (dhāt)
both in the mind (dhihnan) and externally (khārijan). This implies that existence is common (ishtirāk) to proper existences (al-wujūdāt
al-khāṣṣah)3 in name only (lafẓan) rather than in
meaning (maʿnan), and this is
obviously false, because, as has been explained elsewhere in works dealing with
this subject, belief concerning [the existence of] something in an absolute
sense endures even though belief as to its particular characteristic (khuṣūṣiyyah) ceases, and
because [existence] is subject to division in meaning (al-taqsīm
al-maʿnawī).4
Some people, therefore, did not interpret their position literally, but claimed
that what they meant by identity (al-ʿayniyyah) was indistinguishability in the external world, that is, that there
is not in the external world something which is the quiddity (al-māhiyyah) and something else subsisting in it (qāʾim bihā) externally
which is existence, as one who follows their proofs understands.
5. The majority of the
theologians (jumhūr al-mutakallimīn) took the
position that existence is a single concept (mafhūm wāḥid) common to all existences, and that this single concept becomes
multiple and is divided into portions (ḥiṣṣah) through its
attribution to things (al-ashyāʾ), as, for example, the
whiteness of this snow [as distinguished from the whiteness of] that snow. The
existences of things are these portions, and these portions along with that
concept (al-mafhūm) intrinsic to them (al-dākhil fīhā) are external (khārijah)
to the essences of things and only mentally superadded to them (zāʾidah ʿalayhā) in the view of
their verifiers (muḥaqqiqīhim),5 and both mentally and externally in the view of others.
6. The gist (ḥāṣil) of the position of the philosophers6 is that existence is
a single concept common to all [proper] existences. These [proper] existences,
however, are dissimilar realities which are multiple in themselves not merely
through the accident of attribution (ʿāriḍ al-iḍāfah), for in that case
they would be similar to each other (mutamāthilah)
and agree in reality, though not through specific
differences (al-fuṣūl), for in that case Absolute Existence (al-wujūd
al-muṭlaq) would be their
genus (jins). On the contrary, existence is an
accident concomitant with them (ʿāriḍ lāzim lahā) like the
light of the sun and the light of a lamp. Although both the sun and lamp differ
in reality (al-ḥaqīqah) and in concomitants (al-lawāzim), they,
nevertheless, have in common the accident of light. Similar to this are the
whiteness of snow and the whiteness of ivory, or quantity and quality, which
have in common accidentality (al-ʿaraḍiyyah), or even substance and accident, which have contingency (al-imkān) and existence in common. However, since each
[proper] existence does not have its own name, as is the case with the
divisions of contingent being (aqsām al-mumkin) or
the divisions of accident (aqsām al-ʿaraḍ), it was imagined that
the multiplicity (takaththur) of existences and their
division into portions was due entirely to their attribution to the quiddities
which are their substrata, like the whiteness of this snow and [the whiteness]
of that, or the light of this lamp and [the light] of that. Such, however, is
not the case. On the contrary, they are different and dissimilar realities
subsumed under this concept which inheres [in them] but is external to them.
When one considers that this concept becomes multiple and is divided into
portions through its attribution to quiddities, then [one realizes] that these portions
also are external to those existences with dissimilar realities (al-wujūdāt al-mukhtalifat al-ḥaqāʾiq).
7. Three things are thus
[involved]: the concept of existence (mafhūm al-wujūd),
its portions individuated through its attribution to quiddities, and the proper
existences with dissimilar realities (al-wujūdāt al-khāṣṣah
al-mukhtalifat al-ḥaqāʾiq). The concept of
existence is essential (dhātī) and intrinsic to (dākhil fī) its portions, but both are external to (khārij ʿan) proper existences.
Proper existence is identical with the essence in the case of the Necessary
Existent (al-wājib), but superadded (zāʾid) and external (khārij) in the case of everything else.
8. Ramification.
If you have understood this, we say further:1 Just as it is
possible for this general concept (al-mafhūm al-ʿāmm) to be superadded to Necessary Existence (al-Wujūd
al-Wājib) and to contingent proper existences, on the assumption that
the latter are dissimilar realities, it is also possible for it to be
superadded to a single absolute and existent reality (ḥaqīqah
wāḥidah muṭlaqah mawjūdah) which is the reality of Necessary Existence (ḥaqīqat
al-Wūjud al-Wājib) as is the position taken by the
Sufis who hold the doctrine of the unity of existence (waḥdat
al-wujūd). This superadded concept would then be a
mental entity (amr iʿtibārī)2 existing only in the intellect (al-ʿaql), and its substratum
(maʿrūḍ) would be an external and real existent (mawjūd ḥaqīqī
khārijī) which is the reality of existence.
9. Furthermore,1
that existence is predicated by analogy (al-tashkīk al-wāqiʿ fīhi) does not indicate that it is an accident with respect to its
singulars (afrād), for no proof has been adduced to
show that it is impossible for quiddities and essential attributes (al-dhātiyyāt) to differ by analogousness (bi’l-tashkīk).2 The strongest argument they have
mentioned is that if a quiddity or an essential attribute differs in its
particulars (al-juzʾiyyāt), then neither the quiddity nor the essential attribute is one. This
[argument], however, is refuted (manqūḍ)3 by the case of the accident. Also, a difference in completeness or
incompleteness in the same quiddity, such as a cubit or two cubits of measure
does not imply a difference in the quiddity itself.
10. Al-Shaykh Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qūnawī said
in his al-Risālah al-hādiyah:1 If a reality differs
‘by being more powerful (aqwā), prior (aqdam), stronger (ashadd), or
superior (awlā) in something, all of that is due, in
the opinion of the verifier (al-muḥaqqiq), to its manifestation (al-ẓuhūr) rather than to any multiplicity (taʿaddud) occurring in the reality [itself] which is becoming manifest. [This
is so] regardless of whether that reality is one of knowledge, of [real]
existence, or of something else. There is, thus, a recipient (qābil) predisposed for the manifestation (ẓuhūr) of the reality such that the reality is more complete in its
manifestation in one recipient than it is in its manifestation in another, even
though the reality [itself] is one in all [recipients]. The inequality (al-mufāḍalah) and dissimilarity
(al-tafāwut) occurs between its manifestations in
accordance with the command causing its manifestation (al-amr
al-muẓhir) and requiring an
individuation2 in some other matter. There is, thus, no multiplicity (taʿaddud) in the reality as
such, nor is there any division (tajziyah) or partition
(tabʿīḍ). What has been said to the effect that if
light and knowledge necessitated [respectively] the cessation of
night-blindness (al-ʿashā) and the existence of something known, then every light and knowledge
would do the same, is true, as long as one does not mean by this that there is
any difference in the reality.’
11. Moreover, the basis (mustanad) of the position taken by the Sufis is mystical
revelation and insight (al-kashf wa’l-aʿyān) rather than reason and demonstration (al-naẓar
wa’l-burhān). For indeed, since they have turned
towards God in complete spiritual nudity (al-taʿriyah
al-kāmilah) by wholly emptying their hearts of all
worldly attachments (al-taʿalluqāt al-kawniyyah) and the rules of rational thought (al-qawānīn al-ʿilmiyyah), and by unifying the will (tawaḥḥud
al-ʿazīmah), persisting in
concentration (dawām al-jamʿiyyah), and preserving along this path without slackening, interruption of
thought (taqsīm khāṭir) or dissolution of will (tashattut al-ʿazīmah), God has granted to them a revealing light (nūr
kāshif) to show them things as they really are.1 This light appears
within at the appearance of a level beyond the level of the intellect (ṭawr
warāʾ ṭawr al-ʿaql). Do not think the existence of that improbable, for beyond the
intellect are many levels whose number is hardly known except by God.
12. The relation of the
intellect to this light is the same as the relation of the estimation (al-wahm) to the intellect. And just as it is possible for
the intellect to judge something to be true which cannot be apprehended by the
estimation, such as the existence of a being (mawjūd),
for example, which is neither within the world nor outside it,2
so also can that revealing light judge to be true certain things which cannot
be apprehended by the intellect, such as the existence of an all-encompassing
and absolute reality (ḥaqīqah muṭlaqah muḥīṭah) unlimited by any determination (taqayyud)
and unrestricted by any individuation (taʿayyun), although the existence of such a reality is not [a proposition] of
this sort, for many of the philosophers and theologians have taken the position
that natural universals (al-kullī al-ṭabīʿī)3 exist in the external world. Moreover, all those who have undertaken to prove the impossibility [of this proposition]
have used premises which are not free from suspicion of being defective. The
intention here, however, is merely to eliminate from this position (al-masʾalah) any logical
impossibility along with the usual reasons for thinking it improbable, not to
establish it with proofs and demonstrations. Indeed, those who have studied
this proposition, either to verify or support it or to invalidate or impair it,
have been able to produce only insufficient proofs and demonstrations of it or
to point out uncertainties (shukūk) and raise weak
and unfounded objections (shubah) against it.
13. One of the proofs for
the impossibility of the [external] existence of natural universals is that
given by al-Muḥaqqiq al-Ṭūsī in his Risālah written in answer to the
questions asked him by al-Shaykh Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qūnawī.1 He argues that ‘a concrete thing (al-shayʾ al-ʿaynī) does not subsist
in (lā yaqaʿ ʿalā) numerous things,
because if it were in each of those things, it would not be one concrete thing
(shayʾ bi-ʿaynihi) but rather
[many] things. Alternatively, if it were in the whole [of them] insofar as
[they are] a whole (min ḥaythu huwa kull), the whole constituting in this respect a single thing, then it would
not subsist in [numerous] things. If, on the other hand, it were in the whole
in the sense of being divided among its units (āḥād), then there would be in each unit only a part of that thing. Thus, if
it is neither in the units nor in the whole, it does not subsist in them.’
14. Al-Mawlā al-ʿAllāmah Shams al-Dīn
al-Fanārī answered him in his commentary on Miftāḥ
al-ghayb.2 Choosing the first alternative (al-shiqq al-awwal)3 [for refutation] he
said: ‘The meaning of the realization (taḥaqquq) of a universal reality (al-ḥaqīqah
al-kulliyah) in its individuals (afrād) is its realization at one time qualified by this determination
(al-taʿayyun) and at another by
that individuation. This does not necessitate its being many things, just as
the transformation (taḥawwul) of a single individual into different (mukhtalifah)
or even completely distinct (mutabāyinah)1
states does not necessitate its being [many] individuals.’ He then said:
‘Should you say: How can what is one in essence (al-wāḥid
bi’l-dhāt) be described by contrary qualities (al-awṣāf al-mutaḍāddah) like easternness and westernness, or knowledge or ignorance, and so
forth? I should answer: You think this improbable because you make universals
analogous to particulars and the invisible world (al-ghāʾib) analogous to the visible world (al-shāhid).
There is no proof for the impossibility of this with respect to universals.’
15. Another [proof] is that
of Mawlā Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī,2 which states that numerous realities such as genus, difference, and
species, are all realized in one singular (fard). If
they existed [externally], however, predication between them would be
impossible because of the impossibility of predication between multiple
[external] existents (mawjūdāt mutaʿaddidah).
16. ʿAllāmah Fanārī3
answered him saying that ‘it is possible for numerous related realities (ḥaqāʾiq
mutanāsibah) to exist through a single existence
which includes them as such, just as fatherhood subsists in the sum total of
the parts of the father as a whole.’ The lack of multiple existences (ʿadam al-wujūdāt
al-mutaʿaddidah) does not imply
the lack of existence absolutely. Indeed they explicitly state that the
creation (jaʿl) of the genus, the
difference, and the species is one.4
17. As for the proofs for
the existence of natural universals in general, they are not such as to be
useful [in proving] this thesis (al-maṭlūb) to the point of certainty but only to the point of probability,
although they are mentioned in the well-known works [dealing with this subject]
together with the objections raised against them. We have, therefore, avoided
taking up these proofs and shall concern ourselves only with what serves to
prove this thesis itself.
18. We say, therefore, that
there is no doubt that the Source of Existents (Mabdaʾ al-mawjūdāt) exists, and that his source can be either the reality of existence (ḥaqīqat al-wujūd) or
something else. It cannot, however, be something else, since everything except
existence is in need of another, namely existence, in order to exist, and to be
in need is inconsistent with necessary existence (al-wujūb).
Therefore, this source must be the reality of existence. Moreover, if it is
absolute (muṭlaq), then the thesis (al-maṭlūb) is proven. If, on
the other hand, it is individuated (mutaʿayyin), then it is impossible for its individuation to be intrinsic to it (dākhil fīhi), for otherwise the Necessary Existent is a
simple entity which is existence, and that its individuation is an attribute
inhering [in it].
19. Should you ask: Why is
it not possible for its individuation to be identical with it? I should answer:
If by individuation you mean that through which it is individuated, then it is
possible for it to be identical with it. However, this does not harm our
position, because if that through which it is individuated is its essence, then
it cannot in itself be individuated, otherwise an endless chain would result.
On the other hand, if what is meant is the individuation (al-tashakhkhuṣ) itself, then this
cannot be identical with its essence, because it is one of the second
intelligibles (al-maʿqūlāt al-thāniyah),1 to which nothing corresponds in the external world.
20. It is evident to anyone
familiar with the doctrines promulgated in their books that what is related of
their revelations (mukāshafāt) and visions (mushāhadāt) attests only to the affirmation of the
existence of an absolute essence (dhāt muṭlaqah) encompassing the intellectual and concrete planes (al-marātib al-ʿaqliyyah wa’l-ʿayniyyah) and expanding over both mental and external existents, but having no
individuation which prevents it from appearing in other individuations whether
divine or created. Thus, it is not impossible to affirm of it an individuation
which is consistent with (yujāmiʿ) all individuations and
is not inconsistent with (lā yunāfī) any of them,
which is identical with its essence and not superadded to it either in the mind
or externally, and which the intellect, should it conceive of it in a certain
individuation, would be unable to imagine as being common (mushtarak)
to many in the same way that universals are common to their particulars, but
would be able to conceive of as being transformed into or as appearing in
numerous forms (al-ṣuwar al-kathīrah) and infinite manifestations (al-maẓāhir
al-ghayr al-mutanāhiyah), both cognitively and
concretely (ʿilman wa-ʿaynan) and in the invisible world as well as the visible (ghayban wa-shahādatan), in accordance with various
relations (al-nisab al-mukhtalifah) and different
aspects (al-iʿtibārāt al-mutaghāyirah).2
21.
Consider this by analogy with the rational soul (al-nafs
al-nāṭiqah), which pervades
the parts of the body and their external senses and internal faculties (quwāhā al-bāṭinah); or even better (bal) by analogy with the perfectional rational soul (al-nafs al-nāṭiqah al-kamāliyyah),
which, if realized (taḥaqqaqat) as a manifestation of the comprehensive Name (maẓhariyyat
al-ism al-jāmiʿ),1 is spiritualized (kān al-tarawḥunna)2 of some of its concomitant realities (ḥaqāʾiqihā
al-lāzimah) and appears in numerous forms without
determination (taqayyud) or limitation (inḥiṣār), all of which can be
predicated of it and of each other because of the unity of its individual
essence (ʿayn) just as it becomes
many because of the variation of its forms.
22. For this reason it was
said of Idrīs that he was Ilyās sent to Baalbek,3 not in the sense
that his individual essence (al-ʿayn) shed the Idrīsid form (al-ṣūrat
al-idrīsiyyah) and put on the Ilyāsid form, since
this would be a profession of metempsychosis (al-tanāsukh),
but rather in the sense that the ipseity (huwiyyah)4
of Idrīs, while subsisting in his individual existence (inniyyah)5
and form (ṣūrah) in the fourth heaven, nevertheless appeared and became
individuated (taʿayyanat) in the individual existence of Ilyās, who remains to this time. Thus
the ipseity of Idrīs with respect to his individual essence (al-ʿayn) and reality (al-ḥaqīqah) is one, but with
respect to formal individuation (al-taʿayyun
al-ṣūrī) is two. In like
manner Jibraʾīl, Mīkāʾīl, and ʿIzrāʾīl appear at one and the same time in 100,000 places in different
forms, all of which subsist in them.
23. Similar to this are the
spirits of the perfect (arwāḥ
al-kummal). For example, it is related of Qaḍīb al-Bān al-Mawṣilī1 that he was seen at
one and the same time in numerous gatherings, in each of which he was occupied
with a different matter. And since the estimations (awhām)
of those immersed in time and place could not understand this account, they
received it with opposition and resistance and judged it false and erroneous.
Those, on the other hand, who had been granted success in escaping from this
predicament (al-maḍīq), seeing him exalted above time and place, realized that the relation
of all times and places to him was one and the same; and they thus believed it
possible for him to appear in every time and every place, for any matter he
wished, and in any form he desired.
24. Analogy.
If a single particular form (ṣūrah wāḥidah juzʾiyyah) is impressed (inṭabaʿat) in many mirrors which differ with respect to being large or small,
long or short, flat, convex or concave, and so forth, then there can be no
doubt that this form multiplies (yatakaththar) in
accordance with the multiplicity of the mirrors, and that its impressions
differ in accordance with the differences in the mirrors. Furthermore, this
multiplicity [of impressions] does not impair the unity of the [original] form,
nor does the appearance [of the form] in any one of these mirrors preclude it
from appearing in the others. The True One (al-Wāḥid al-Ḥaqq), ‘and God’s is the loftiest likeness’,2 is thus analogous to
the many mirrors with their differing predispositions (istiʿdādāt). God appears in each and every individual essence (ʿayn) in accordance with that essence, without any multiplicity (takaththur) or change (taghayyur)
occurring in His holy Essence. Moreover, His appearing in accordance with the
characteristics (aḥkām) of any one of these individual essences does not prevent Him from
appearing also in accordance with the characteristics of the others, as you
have learned from the foregoing analogy.
25. On
His Unity (waḥdah). Inasmuch as the Necessary Existent (al-Wājib),
in the opinion of the majority of theologians, is a reality (ḥaqīqah) existing through a proper existence, they all found it necessary, in
order to prove His unicity (waḥdāniyyah) and deny a partner to Him, to make use of proofs and demonstrations,
which they have provided in their works. The Sufis who profess the unity of
existence (waḥdat al-wujūd), however,
since it was evident to them that the reality of the Necessary Existent (ḥaqīqat
al- Wājib) is absolute existence (al-wujūd al-muṭlaq), did not find it
necessary to put forward a proof for the assertion of His unity and the denial
of a partner to Him. In fact, it is impossible to imagine in Him any duality (ithnayniyyah) and multiplicity (taʿaddud) without considering individuation (taʿayyun) and determination (taqayyud) to be in Him
also. For everything multiple, whether seen, imagined or apprehended, is either
an existent (al-mawjūd) or attributive existence (al-wujūd al-iḍāfī)1
not absolute [existence] (al-muṭlaq), since its opposite is non-existence (al-ʿadam), which is nothing.2
26. Furthermore, the True
Existence (al-Wujūd al-Ḥaqq) possesses a unity (waḥdah) which is not superadded to His Essence, but is rather His being
considered as He is in Himself (min ḥaythu
huwa huwa), for when considered in this way (bi-hādhā’l-iʿtibār) His unity is not
an attribute (naʿt) of the One (al-Wāḥid), but is rather identical with Him. This is what the verifiers (al-muḥaqqiqīn) mean by
essential oneness (al-aḥadiyyah al-dhātiyyah), from which are derived the unity (al-waḥdah) and the multiplicity (al-kathrah) which are
familiar to all (al-jumhūr), namely numerical unity
and multiplicity. Moreover, if it is considered as being devoid of all aspects
(al-iʿtibārāt), it is called
oneness (aḥadiyyah), but if considered
as being qualified by them, it is called singleness (wāḥidiyyah).3
27. On
His Attributes in General. The Ashʿarites took the position4
that God has eternal and existent attributes superadded to His Essence. He is,
thus, knowing through knowledge, powerful through power, willing through will,
and so forth. The philosophers, on the other hand, took the position that His
Attributes are identical with His Essence, not in the sense that there is an essence
which has an attribute and that the two are in reality united, but rather in
the sense that what results from (yatarattab ʿalā) His essence is what [in other cases] results from an essence and
attribute together. For example, your own essence is not sufficient to reveal
things to you but requires for this the attribute of knowledge which subsists
in you. God’s Essence is altogether different, for, in order that things be
revealed and made apparent in Him, God does not need an attribute subsisting in
Him. Indeed, all concepts (al-mafhūmāt) are revealed
to Him through His essence, so that, in this respect, His Essence is the
reality of knowledge. It is the same in the case of His
power, for His Essence is effective (muʾaththirah) in itself rather than through an attribute superadded to it, as in
the case of our own essences. Thus, in this respect, His Essence is power, and
consequently His Essence and Attributes are in reality united, although they
differ from each other with respect to aspect (al-iʿtibār) and concept (al-mafhūm).
28. As for the Sufis, they
took the position that God’s Attributes were identical with His Essence with
respect to existence (bi-ḥasab al-wujūd) but other than it with respect to intellection (al-taʿaqqul). Shaykh [Muḥyī al-Dīn ibn ʿArabī] said: ‘Some denied His Attributes, although the intuition (dhawq) of the prophets and saints testifies to the
contrary; others affirmed them and judged them to be completely different from
His Essence. This is complete unbelief and pure polytheism.
29. Someone, may God
sanctify his soul, said:1 ‘Whoever affirms [God’s] Essence but
does not affirm [His] Attributes is an ignorant innovator (mubtadiʿ), and whoever affirms
Attributes which are entirely different from [His] Essence is an unbelieving
dualist (thanawī kāfir) as well as ignorant.’ He also
said: ‘Our essences are imperfect (nāqiṣah) and are only perfected by attributes, God’s Essence, however, is
perfect (kāmilah) and in no way is in need of
anything, for everything which is in need of something in any way is imperfect,
and imperfection does not befit the Necessary Existent. His Essence is
sufficient for everything and with respect to everything. It is, thus,
knowledge with respect to objects of knowledge (al-maʿlūmāt), power with respect to objects of will (al-murādāt).
It is one and has no duality (ithnayniyyah) in it
whatsoever.’
30. On
His Knowledge. All are in agreement in affirming His knowledge except a
small and insignificant group of early philosophers. Since the theologians
affirmed attributes superadded to His Essence, they found no difficulty with
respect to the connection (taʿalluq) of His knowledge with things outside His Essence by means of forms (ṣuwar) corresponding to those things and superadded to Him.
31. Since the philosophers,
on the other hand, did not affirm the Attributes, their doctrine was confused
on this question. The gist (ḥāṣil) of what Shaykh [Ibn
Sīnā] said in al-Ishārāt2 was: ‘Since the
First (al-Awwal) apprehends (ʿaqala) His essence by means of His Essence and because His Essence is the
cause (ʿillah) of multiplicity (al-kathrah),
it follows that He apprehends multiplicity because of His apprehension of His
Essence by means of His Essence. Thus, his apprehension of multiplicity is a
concomitant (lāzim) effected by Him (maʿlūl lahu), and the forms
of multiplicity, which are the objects of His apprehension (maʿqūlāt), are also His effects (maʿlūlāt) and His concomitants ranked in the order of effects and therefore
posterior to (mutaʾakhkhirah ‘an) the reality of His Essence as an effect is posterior to its cause.
His Essence is not constituted (mutaqawwimah) by them
or by anything else. It is one, and the multiplicity of
concomitants (al-lawāzim) and effects (al-maʿlūlāt) is not
inconsistent with the unity of their cause (ʿillah), of which they are the concomitants, regardless of whether these
concomitants are established (mutaqarrirah) in the
cause itself or distinct (mubāyinah) from it.
Therefore, the establishment (taqarrur) of caused
multiplicity (al-kathrah al-maʿlūlah) in the Essence of the Self-Subsistent One, who is prior to them with
respect to causality (al-ʿilliyyah) and existence, does not necessitate His being multiple. The gist of
this is that the Necessary Existent is one, and His unity does not cease on
account of the multiplicity of the forms established in Him.’
32. To this the learned
commentator [Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī]1 objected: ‘There is no doubt that to acknowledge the establishment of
concomitants of the First in His Essence is to acknowledge that a single thing
can be both an agent (fāʿil) and a recipient (qābil) at the same time,
that the First is qualified by Attributes that are neither relative (iḍāfiyyah) nor negative (salbiyyah), that He is a substratum (maḥall) for His multiple and contingent effects, may He be high exalted above
that, that His first effect is not distinct (mubāyin)
from His Essence, and that He does not bring into existence (lā yūjid) anything which is distinct from Him through His
own Essence anything but rather through the mediacy (tawassuṭ) of entities subsisting
in Him, as well as other [propositions] which contradict the apparent positions
(madhāhib) of the philosophers. In fact, the early
philosophers who denied God’s knowledge, as well as Plato, who affirmed the
self-subsistence of intelligible forms (al-ṣuwar
al-maʿqūlah), and the
Peripatetics, who affirmed the union of knower (al-ʿāqil) and known (al-maʿqūl), took these absurd positions only in order to avoid committing
themselves to such ideas as these.’
33. He then indicated what
he himself believed the truth to be, saying:2 ‘Just as an
apprehender in perceiving his own essence through his essence does not require
a form other than the form of his own essence through which he is what he is,
so also in perceiving that which emanates from his essence he does not need any
form other than the form of the emanation through which the emanation is what
it is. Consider your own case when you apprehend something by means of a form
which you have imagined or brought to mind. This form does not emanate
absolutely from you alone, but rather with a certain participation of something
else. Nevertheless, you do not apprehend that thing through the form, but
rather, just as you apprehend that thing through the form, so also do you
apprehend the form itself through the same form without there being any
doubling of forms within you. Indeed, the only things that double are your
[mental] considerations (iʿtibārāt) connected with your essence and that form only, or by way of
superimposition (al-tarakkub). If such is your
situation (ḥāl) with respect to what
emanates from you with the participation of something besides yourself, what,
then, do you think of the situation of an apprehender (al-ʿāqil) with respect to what emanates solely from his own essence without the
intervention (mudākhalah) of anything else?’
34. ‘Do not think that a
condition for your apprehending this form is your being a substratum (maḥall) for it, for you
apprehend your own essence, although you are not a substratum for it. Your
being a substratum for that form is merely a condition for the occurrence (ḥuṣūl) of that form to you, and the occurrence is, in turn, a condition for
your apprehending the form. Therefore, if the form occurs to you in any way
other than by inhering (al-ḥulūl) in you, then the apprehension (al-taʿaqqul) also occurs without inhering in you. It is well known that the
occurrence [of the form] of a thing to its agent (fāʿil), insofar as it occurs to something other than itself, is not inferior
to its occurrence to its recipient (qābil).
Therefore, the essential effects (al-maʿlūlāt
al-dhātiyyah) of the Apprehender and Agent through
His Essence (al-ʿāqil al-fāʿil
li-dhātihi) occur to Him without inhering in Him,
and He apprehends them without their being inherent in Him.’
35. ‘Having presented the
foregoing I proceed as follows: You have learned that the First apprehends His
Essence without there being any difference (taghāyur),
with respect to existence (fī’l-wujūd), between His
Essence and His apprehension of His essence, except as conceived in the minds
of those considering [this] (fī iʿtībār
al-muʿtabirīn). Moreover, you
have concluded (ḥakamta) that His
apprehension of His Essence is the cause (ʿillah) of His apprehension of the first effect (al-maʿlūl
al-awwal). Therefore, if you have concluded that
the two causes, namely, His Essence and His apprehension of His Essence, are
one thing with respect to existence without there being any difference between
them, you can conclude that the two effects also, namely, the first effect and
the First’s apprehension of it, are, with respect to existence, one thing
without there being any difference between them which would require one of them
to be distinct (mubāyin) from the First and the other
to be established (muqarrar) in Him. Therefore, just
as you concluded that the difference between the two causes was purely mental (iʿtibārī), you can
conclude that the difference between the two effects is also mental. The
existence of the first effect is thus identical with the First’s apprehension
of it without there being any need for a newly effused form (ṣūrah
mustafāḍah mustaʾnafah) to subsist in the Essence of the First, may He be exalted above
that.’
36. ‘Furthermore, since the
intellectual substances (al-jawāhir al-ʿaqliyyah) apprehend those things which are not effects of theirs through the
occurrence of the forms of those things in them, and since they also apprehend
the Necessarily Existent First (al-Awwal al- Wājib),
and because nothing exists which is not an effect of the Necessarily Existent
First, all the forms of both universal and particular beings, exactly as they
are in existence (ʿalā mā ʿalayhi’l-wujūd), occur in them. The Necessarily Existent First apprehends these
[intellectual] substances, together with these forms, not through other forms
but rather through those identical substances and forms.
In this way [He apprehends] existence exactly as it is (al-wujūd
ʿalā mā huwa ʿalayhi). Thus, ‘not an
atom’s weight escapes Him’1 nor must any of the aforementioned
impossibilities be resorted to.’ End of quotation from Ṭūsī.
37. One of the commentators
on the Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam2 raised against him
the objection that because those intellectual substances are contingent (mumkinah), they are therefore originated (ḥādithah) and preceded by essential non-existence (al-ʿadam
al-dhātī), as well as known to the Truth (al-Ḥaqq) before their
existence. How, then, can the First’s knowledge (ʿilm) of them be identical with their existence? Furthermore, [such a position]
nullifies divine providence (al-ʿināyah), which is explained by the philosophers as [God’s] active and eternal
knowledge (al-ʿilm al-azalī al-fiʿlī) connected with universals in a universal manner (kullīyan)
and with particulars in a universal manner also and which is prior to the
existence of things. Moreover, it also implies that His Essence, with respect
to the most noble of His Attributes, is in need of that which is other than He
and emanates from Him. The truth is that one who is fair-minded will realize
that He who created (abdaʿa) things and brought them out of non-existence into existence, whether
that non-existence was temporal (zamānī) or not, knew
both the realities of those things and their concomitant mental and external
forms (ṣuwaruha al-lāzimah lahā al-dhihniyyah wa’l-khārijiyyah) before He brought them into existence. Otherwise, it would have been
impossible to give them existence. Thus, knowledge of them is not the same as
their existence. Moreover, the doctrine that it is impossible for His Essence
and His knowledge, which is identical with His essence, to be a substratum (maḥall) for multiple
entities is valid only if they are distinct from Him, as in the opinion of
those veiled from the truth (al-maḥjūbīn ʿan al-ḥaqq). If, on the other hand, they are identical with Him with respect to
existence (al-wujūd) and reality (al-ḥaqīqah), but different from Him with respect to determination (al-taqayyud) and individuation (al-taʿayyun), then it is not impossible [for Him to be a substratum]. In reality,
however, He is neither subsistent (ḥāll) nor is He a
substratum (maḥall), but is, rather, a single thing appearing sometimes with the quality
of being a substratum (al-maḥalliyyah) and at other times with the quality of being subsistent (al-ḥālliyyah).
38. Further
Substantiation. If the First knows His Essence through His Essence, He
is, considering that He knows and is known, both a knower (ʿālim) and something known (maʿlūm), and, insofar as He knows His Essence through His Essence and not
through a form superadded to Him, He is knowledge (ʿilm). Three things are thus involved which are indistinguishable from each
other except as considered in the mind (bi-ḥasab
al-iʿtibār). If His Essence
is considered (uʿtubira) as being a cause (sabab) for His appearing
to Himself, then luminosity (al-nūriyyah) attaches to Him. If He is considered as being a giver of existence (wājid) to the object of His knowledge (maʿlūm) and not a depriver of it (ghayr fāqid lahū),
as being present with it (shāhid iyyāhū) and not
being absent from it (ghayr ghāʾib ʿanhū), then the relation (nisbah) of existence (al-wujūd), of presence (al-shuhūd),
of giving existence (al-wājidiyyah), of receiving
existence (al-mawjūdiyyah), of being present (al-shāhidiyyah), and of being the object of presence (al-mashhūdiyyah) is determined.1
39. There is no doubt that
His knowledge of His Essence and of these considerations (al-iʿtibārāt), which are His Attributes, does not require a form superadded to Him.
Neither does His knowledge of the quiddities (māhiyyāt)
of things or their ipseities (huwiyyāt), for their
quiddities and ipseities are nothing but His transcendent essence (al-dhāt al-mutaʿāliyah) clothed in these
aforementioned considerations whose intellections are derived one from another
(al-muntashiʾat al-taʿaqqul baʿḍuhā ʿan baʿḍ), collectively and
individually (jamʿan wa-furādā) in either a universal or a particular manner (ʿalā
wajh kullī aw juzʾī). Thus, in knowing
them He does not need a superadded form (ṣūrah zāʾidah), and consequently there is neither act (fiʿl) nor receptivity (qabūl), nor subsistent (ḥāll) nor substratum (maḥall). Moreover, He has no need, with respect to any of His perfections,
for what is other than He and emanates from Him. High may He be exalted above
what the evildoers say!
40. That
His Knowledge of His Essence is the Source (manshaʾ) of
His Knowledge of all Other Things. The philosophers said: the First
knows things by reason of His knowledge of His Essence. This is because He
knows His Essence, which is the origin (mabdaʾ) of the particulars of a
thing (tafāṣīl al-ashyāʾ). He thus possesses a simple entity (amr basīṭ), which is the origin of His knowledge of the particulars of things,
and this is His knowledge of His Essence. This is because knowledge of the
cause entails knowledge of its effects regardless of whether these effects
occur through an intermediary (wāsiṭah) or not. Thus, His knowledge of His Essence, which is the essential
cause (ʿillah dhātiyyah) of the first effect (al-maʿlūl al-aw-wal), includes
knowledge of the first effect. Then the combination [of the two] is a proximate
cause (ʿillah qarībah) of the second effect (al-maʿlūl al-thānī), so that
knowledge of it is entailed also, and so on to the last effect. Thus, His
knowledge of His Essence includes the knowledge of all existents as a whole (ijmālan). Moreover, if what is in His knowledge is
particularized (fuṣṣila), these existents then become differentiated from each other and
particularized (mufaṣṣalah). His knowledge is thus like a simple entity (amr
basīṭ) which is the origin (mabdaʾ) of the particulars of
numerous things (tafāṣīl umūr mutaʿaddidah), and just as His Essence is the origin of the characteristics (khuṣūṣiyyāt) of things and
their particulars (tafāṣīl), so is His knowledge of His Essence the origin of His cognitions (al-ʿulūm) of things and
their particulars. This is analogous to what has been said to the effect that
knowledge of a quiddity includes the knowledge of its parts (ajzāʾ) as a whole (ijmālan), and that such
knowledge is the origin of its particulars.
41. Do not let it escape you
that this doctrine implies His knowledge of particulars (al-juzʾiyyāt) as particulars, for particulars are caused by Him just as are
universals, and He must, therefore, know them also. Although the philosophers
are known for having claimed that He has no knowledge of particulars as
particulars, since this would imply change (al-taghayyur)
in His real Attributes (ṣifātihā al-ḥaqīqiyyah), one of the more recent philosophers (baʿḍ
al-muta’akhkhirīn) has disclaimed this, saying:1
‘The denial that His knowledge is connected with particulars is something that
has been ascribed to the philosophers by those who do not understand their
doctrine. How can they deny that His knowledge is connected with particulars
when these emanate from Him, and when, in their opinion, He apprehends His
Essence, and when their position is that knowledge of the cause necessitates
knowledge of the effect? Indeed, having denied His being in space, they made
the relation of all places to Him a single identical relation (nisbah wāḥidah mutasāwiyah), and
having denied His being in time, they also made the relation to Him of all
times, past, future, and present, a single relation. They maintained that just
as one who knows places, although he is not himself spatial (makānī), knows, nevertheless, Zayd’s position with respect
to ʿAmr’s,
how each of them can be pointed out with respect to the other, and what the
distance between them is, and so forth with respect to all substances of the
universe (dhawāt al-ʿālam) and just as he does not relate any of these things to himself because
he is not spatial (makānī), so also does one who
knows times, if he is not himself temporal (zamānī)
know at what time Zayd is born and at what time ʿAmr, how much time separates them, and so
forth with respect to all events tied to [particular] times. He does not relate
any of them to a [particular] time which is [then] present to him, and
therefore, does not say: This has passed, this has not yet happened, and this
exists now. Rather, all things which are in time are present to him and equally
related to him, although he knows their relationship to each other as well as
the priority of some of them to the others.’
42. ‘Although this
[doctrine] was established among them, and they determined upon it,
nevertheless the estimations (awhām) of those
immersed in space and time were unable to understand it, and some of them
consequently judged God to be spatial, and they point to a place proper to Him.
Others judged Him to be temporal and say that this has passed Him and that that
has not yet happened to Him. They therefore attribute to those who deny this of
Him the doctrine that He does not have knowledge of temporal particulars (al-juzʾiyyāt al-zamāniyyah),
although such is not the case.’
43. The Sufis, may God
sanctify their souls, say that inasmuch as the Truth (al-ḥaqq) necessitated (iqtaḍāʾ) everything either
through His Essence or through one or more conditions (shurūṭ), everything is
therefore one of His concomitants or a concomitant of one of His concomitants,
and so forth. Consequently, the Creator (al-Ṣāniʿ), who is not distracted
from anything by anything, the Kindly One and the Well-Informed (al-Laṭīf al-Khabīr), who lacks
no perfection, inevitably knows His Essence as well as the concomitant of His
Essence and the concomitant of His concomitant, both collectively and
individually (jamʿan wa-furādā), as a whole and in particular (ijmālan wa-tafṣīlan) to an infinite degree. They also say1 that the Truth, because
of His essential absoluteness (iṭlāqihi
al-dhātī) possesses essential coextension (al-maʿiyyah al-dhātiyyah)2
with every existent thing, and that his being present (ḥuḍūr) with things is His knowledge of them, so that not an atom’s weight
escapes His knowledge on earth or in the heavens.
44. The gist of this is that
He knows things in two ways. One of these is through the chain of succession
[of causes and effects] (silsilat al-tartīb) in a
manner close to that of the philosophers. The other is through his oneness (aḥadiyyah), which
encompasses all things. It is obvious, of course, that His knowledge of things
by the second way is preceded by His knowledge of them by the first way, for
the first is absentational knowledge (ʿilm ghaybī) of them
prior to their existence, and the second is presentational knowledge (ʿilm
shuhūdī) of them during their existence. In
reality, however, there are not two knowledges, but rather there attaches to
the first knowledge through (bi-wāsiṭah) the existence of its connection (mutaʿalliq), that is, the thing known (al-maʿlūm), a relation (nisbah) in consideration of
which we call that knowledge presence (shuhūd) and
attendance (ḥuḍūr). It is not that
another knowledge has originated. Should you say that this implies that His
knowledge by the second way is limited to presently existing things (al-mawjūdāt al-ḥāliyyah), I should answer yes, but all existents in relation to Him are
present, since [all] times are the same in relation to Him as well as present (ḥāḍirah) with Him, as has just been mentioned in the quotation from one of the
verifiers (baʿḍ al-muḥaqqiqīn).1
45. On
His Will (al-irādah). Both the theologians and the philosophers agreed
in asserting the doctrine that He is willing (murīd),
although there was great difference as to what was meant by His will. In the
view of the theologians from among the people of the approved way (ahl al-sunnah) His will is an eternal Attribute (ṣifah
qadīmah) superadded (zāʾidah) to His Essence, as is the case with the rest of His real Attributes (al-ṣifāt al-ḥaqīqiyyah). In the opinion of the philosophers, however, it is His knowledge of
the most perfect order (al-niẓām
al-akmal), which they call providence (ʿināyah). Ibn Sīnā said: ‘Providence is the First’s all-encompassing knowledge
of everything and of how everything should be, so as to be in the best order (aḥsan al-niẓām). Thus, the First’s knowledge of the correct manner (kayfiyyat al-ṣawāb) for the
arrangement of the existence of the whole (tartīb wujūd
al-kull) is the fountainhead (manbaʿ) for the effusion (fayaḍān) of good (al-khayr) over the whole, without there arising any
intention (qaṣd) or desire (ṭalab) on the part of the True First (al-Awwal al-Ḥaqq).2
46. In clarification of the
two positions we can say that it is obvious that our mere knowledge of what can
possibly emanate from us is not sufficient for its occurrence. On the contrary,
we experience within ourselves a certain psychical state (ḥālah
nafsāniyyah) following upon our knowledge of what
it would contain of benefit (al-maṣlaḥah). We then need to move the members [of the body] by means of the force
(al-qūwwah) distributed in our muscles. It is our
essence (dhāt), then, that is the agent (al-fāʿil), and our muscular
force that is the power (al-qudrah). Moreover, the
conceiving (taṣawwur) of that thing [which is to emanate] is [our] awareness (al-shuʿūr) of the object of
that power (al-maqdūr), and the knowledge of the benefit
[to be derived] is [our] knowledge of the goal (al-ghāyah).
The psychical state called inclination (al-mayalān)
is what follows upon [our] desire (al-shawq) which,
in turn, stems from [our] knowledge of the goal. These are all entities
distinct from each other, and each one has a role (madkhal)
in the emanation of that thing.
47. Those theologians who
deny that His acts are motivated by purposes (aghrāḍ) affirm to Him an
Essence and a power (qudrah) superadded to His
Essence, as well as knowledge of the object of that power (al-maqdūr)
and of the benefit [to be found] in it, also superadded to His Essence, and
will (irādah). They ascribe a role in
bringing-into-existence (al-ījād) to all of these
with the exception of the knowledge of the benefit, for
it is a purpose and goal not a final cause (ʿillah ghāʾiyyah).
48. The philosophers, on the
other hand, affirmed of Him an Essence and a knowledge of things which is
identical with His Essence. They make His Essence and His knowledge together
sufficient for bringing-into-existence (al-ījād),
because His knowledge is identical with both His power and His will and is
consequently sufficient for emanation (al-ṣudūr). He does not posses a state similar to the psychical inclination (al-mayalān al-nafsānī) which humans possess. What in our
case emanates from the essence together with its attributes emanates from Him
through the Essence alone. This is the meaning of the union (ittiḥād) of Attributes with
Essence. The emanation of an act from Him is not like its emanation from us,
nor is it like its emanation from such things as fire and the sun which have no
awareness of what emanates from them.
1. Ḥaqīqah is the term used for a
quiddity (māhiyyah) which has external existence. See
al-Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-māhiyyah;
Aḥmadnagarī,
Dastūr al-ʿulamāʾ, III, 192, under al-māhiyyah, and III, 283, under al-maʿnā.
2. For this premise, see, for
example, Jurjānī, Sharḥ al-mawāqif, II, 140–141. Jāmī’s
argument here appears to be taken from Sharḥ
al-mawāqif,
VIII, 12.
1. See Fuat Sezgin, Geschichte des arabsichen, 602. Schriftums,
I, 602.
2. See Sezgin, Geschicte, I, 627.
3. al-Wujūdāt
al-khāṣṣah are the existence of particular
individual things. See Amélie Marie Goichon, Lexique de la
langue philosophique d’Ibn Sīnā, 419; and Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ,
al-Ilāhiyyāt, 31.
4. That is, it can be divided,
for example, into necessary and contingent existence and the latter can be
further divided into substantial and accidental existence. See Aḥamadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamāʾ, I, 333, under al-taqsīm. For this and other arguments that existence is
common in meaning to proper existences, see Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-maqāṣid, I, 46; and Jurjānī, Sharḥ al-mawāqif, II, 112–127.
5. The muḥaqqiq is the scholar who
establishes a thesis by using proofs (dalāʾil). See Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-taḥqīq; al-Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamā’, III, 228, under al-muḥaqqiq; al-Tahānawī, Kashshshāf, 336, under al-taḥqīq.
6. This paragraph is derived
almost entirely from Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-maqāṣid, I, 53–54.
1. This paragraph is identical
with paragraph 10 of Jāmī’s Risālah fī’l-wujūd. See
‘Jāmī’s ‘Treatise on Existence’, in Parviz Morewedge, ed., Islamic
Philosophical Theology (Albany, NY, 1979), pp. 223–256.
2. That is, an entity that
exists only in the mind of the person considering it and during the time he is
considering it. See Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-amr
al-iʿtibārī; Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr
al-ʿulamā’, I, 187, under al-amr
al-iʿtibārī, and III, 193, under al-māhiyyah; al-Tahānawī, Kashshāf,
p. 72, under al-umūr al-iʿtibāriyyah. Izutzu and Mohaghegh in
their edition of Hādī Sabziwārī’s Sharḥ ghurar
al-farāʾid translate iʿtibārī as mentally posited. See pp.
65–66, 71 of Izutsu’s English introduction, ‘The Fundamental Structure of
Sabzawāri’s Metaphysics’.
1. This paragraph is apparently derived from Qūshjī, Sharḥ al-tajrīd, 10; and Jurjānī, Ḥāshiyat
sharḥ al-tajrīd, fols. 17a–17b.
2. Concepts which differ in their particulars with respect to
superiority (awlawiyyah) or lack of it, priority (taqaddum) or posteriority (taʾahkhur), or strength (shiddah) or weakness (ḍaʿf) were said to be predicated
analogically (biʾl-tashkīk) or their particulars rather
than univocally. See Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, Taḥrīr
al-qawāʿid al-manṭiqiyyah, I, 210–213; and Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-tashkīk.
It was commonly argued that since essential concepts did not differ in their
particulars, only accidental concepts could be predicated analogically. See Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
203; and Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, al-Muḥākamāt, 281.
3. According to works on the art of disputation (ādāb al-baḥth) such as Ījī’s Ādāb al-baḥth, Ṭāshkubrāzādah’s Ādāb
al-baḥth wa’l-munāẓarah, and Sāchuqlīzādah’s al-Risālah al-waladiyyah, objection to a thesis may take
one of the following three forms:
1. Manʿ, or denial (also called naqḍ tafṣīlī, or particular refutation),
in which the objector denies one of the premises in the defender’s proof of his
thesis.
2. Muʿāraḍah, or opposition, in which the
objector offers a proof for a proposition incompatible with the defender’s
thesis.
3. Naqḍ, or refutation (also known
as naqḍ ijmālī, or general refutation), in
which the objector finds fault with the proof as a whole. He does this by
showing either 1) that its conclusion leads to an impossibility, such as a
circle or an endless chain, or 2) that the same proof can be used to
demonstrate a proposition known to be false.
The present case is an example of this second type of naqḍ. The defender has argued as follows:
All quiddities (essential attributes) are one.
No things which differ in their particulars are one.
Therefore, no things which differ in their particular are
quiddities (essential attributes).
The objector can apply this same proof to accidents and argue
as follows:
All accidents are one.
No things which differ in their particulars are one.
Therefore, no things which differ in their particulars are
accidents.
This conclusion contradicts what is known about accidents,
namely, that they do, in fact, differ in their particulars. Consequently one of
the premises of the proof must be false. Since the truth of the major premise
is admitted by both defender and objector, the minor premise, namely that no
things which differ in their particulars are one, must be false. Since the
defender’s proof also contains this premise, his proof is thereby shown to be
defective.
In his al-Risālah al-waladiyyah,
125–127, Sāchuqlīzādah gives a similar example of this type of naqḍ. The defender, a philosopher, gives
the following proof for the eternity of the world:
All things that are effects of an eternal being are eternal.
The world is an effect of an eternal being.
Therefore, the world is eternal.
The objector, applying the same proof to daily events, then
argues:
All things that are effects of an eternal being are eternal.
Daily events are effects of an eternal being.
Therefore, daily events are eternal.
This conclusion is obviously false, and, since the truth of
the minor premise is not in dispute, the major premise, which is the same in
both proofs, must be false.
1. See MS Wetzstein II 1806,
fol. 57b; MS Vat Arab. 1453, fol. 38a–38b. Al-Risālah
al-hādiyah was written in answer to the Risālah
of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī which in turn was written in
answer to the questions put to Ṭūsī by Qūnawī in his Risālat al-mufṣiḥah. The passage quoted here is
in answer to Ṭūsī’s argument that since existence is predicated
analogically rather than univocally it cannot be a single reality but is, on
the contrary, many different realities. Concepts which are also predicated
analogically, according to Ṭūsī, are light and knowledge. If
light were a single reality, all types of light would be equally brilliant and
would cause the cessation of night blindness. In fact, however, only sunlight
is brilliant enough to do this. Likewise if knowledge were a single reality,
human and divine knowledge would be the same, and human knowledge would cause
the existence of the thing known just as God’s knowledge does. See Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Risālat,
MS Wetzstein II 1806, fol. 36a–36b; MS Warner Or. 1133, fols. 26a–27a; MS Vat.
Arab. 1453, fol. 17a–17b.
2. All the manuscripts of al-Durrah al-fākhirah as well as the two manuscripts
available of al-Risālah al-hādiyah read taʿayyunuhu, whereas taʿayyunuhā, with hā
referring to the feminine ḥaqīqah, would be expected.
1. The preceding part of this
paragraph has been summarized from pages 21 and 34 of Qūnawī’s I ʿjāz al-bayān. The remaining sentences of
the paragraph are quoted from ʿAyn al-Quḍāt al-Hamadānī, Zubdat
al-ḥaqāʾiq, 26–27.
2. On the false judgments of
the estimation, see Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ, al-Manṭiq,
al-Burhān,
64–65; also Jurjānī, Sharḥ
al-mawāqif,
II, 41–42; Kātibī, al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah, 28 of
Arabic text, 35 of translation; and Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, Taḥrīr
al-qawāʿid al-manṭiqiyyah, II, 248–249.
Judgments of the estimation (al-wahmiyyāt)
made, however, with respect to sensibles (al-maḥsūsāt) were considered to be true
and were sometimes included among the premises on which demonstration was
based. See Jurjānī, Sharḥ
al-mawāqif,
II, 41–42; and Taftāzānī, Sharḥ
al-risālah al-shamsiyyah, 185.
3. The natural universal (al-kullī al-ṭabīʿī) was usually defined as the
nature (al-ṭabīʿah) or quiddity (al-māhiyyah) as it is in itself (min ḥaythu hiya
hiya),
absolute and unconditioned by anything (lā bi-sharṭ shayʾ), whether universality,
particularity, existence, non-existence, or anything else. It was distinguished
from two other universals, the mental universal (al-kullī
al-ʿaqlī), which is the nature insofar as it
is a universal, that is, the nature conditioned by universality (bi-sharṭ lā-shayʾ), and the logical universal
(al-kullī al-manṭiqī), which is the concept of
universality itself. See Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ, al-Manṭiq,
al-Madkhal,
65–72; al-Kātibī, al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah, 6 of the
Arabic text, 11 of the English translation; Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, Taḥrīr
al-qawāʿid al-manṭiqiyyah, I, 289–292; and Lawāmiʿ al-asrār, 53–54.
In general the position of the philosophers was that natural
universals existed externally, whereas that of the theologians was that they
existed only in the mind. For the position of the philosophers, see Ibn Sīnā, al-Shifāʾ, al-Ilāhiyyāt, 202–212; Sufis, Sharḥ al-ishārāt, 192–193; al-Kātibī, al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah, 6 of the Arabic text, 11 of the
English translation; al-Urmawī, Maṭāliʿ al-anwār, 53. For that of the
theologians, see Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, Risālah taḥqīq
al-kulliyyāt; and lawāmiʿ al-asrār, 53–56; Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-risālah al-shamsiyyah, 46–47; and Jurjānī, Ḥāshiyah ʿalā sharḥ al-maṭāliʿ, 134–138. A summary of the
objections which can be raised against the position of the philosophers on this
question is given in Kāshif al-Ghiṭāʾ, Naqd al-ārāʾ al-manṭiqiyyah, 195–207.
1. This is the Risālat written in answer to the questions contained in
al-Qūnawī’s al-Risālah al-mufṣiḥah. See MS Wetzstein II 1806,
fol. 39a–39b; MS Warner Or. 1133. fols. 30b–31a; and MS Vat. Arab. 1453, fol.
20a.
2. See al-Fanārī, Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 35.
3. That is, if the universal
subsisted in each one of a number of things, it would not be one concrete thing
but many things.
1. Two universals are said to
be mutabāyin if neither of them is true of what the
other is true of. For example, no horse is a human and no human is a horse.
They are said to be mutasāwī (coextensive) if each is
true of what the other is true of. For example, every human is rational and
every rational being is human. Finally one universal can be more general (ʿāmm) or more specific (akhaṣṣ) than the other. For example, all
humans are animals but not all animals are humans. See Kātibī, al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah, 6 of the Arabic text, 11 of the
English translation; Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī, Taḥrīr
al-qawāʿid al-manṭiqiyyah, I, 294–298; al-Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamā’, I, 270, under al-tabāyun, I, 291, under al-tasāwī.
2. Jāmī is still quoting here
from al-Fanārī’s Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 35. For Rāzī’s arguments
against the existence of natural universals, see his Lawāmiʿ al-asrār, 54–56; and his Risālat taḥqīq al-kulliyyāt, MS Warner Or. 958 (21),
especially fols. 68b-69a.
3. See his Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 35.
4. That is, that the genus and
the difference are created through the creation of the individual of the
species and not through separate creations. All three therefore exist through
the one existence of the individual. In commenting on this sentence Muḥammad Maʿṣūm refers to Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī’s Tajrīd
al-ʿaqāʾid and the commentaries on it.
See al-Farīdah al-nādirah, fol. 66b; as well as Ḥillī, Kashf
al-murād, 45; and al-Qūshjī, Sharḥ al-tajrīd, 108.
1. Second intelligibles or
second intentions are universals which can only be predicated of other
universals as they exist in the mind. First intelligibles, on the other hand,
are universals which can be predicated of individuals existing outside the
mind. For example, the universal concept human is a first intelligible which
can be predicated of each individual human existing in the external world. The
universal concept species, however, can only be predicated of other universal
concepts, such as human, as they exist in the mind. It is therefore a second
intelligible with no individuals existing outside the mind. See Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamāʾ, III, 290, under al-maʿqūlāt al-thāniyah; and Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-maqāṣid, I, 56.
2. According to Jāmī, God’s
Names and Attributes are relations (nisab), aspects (iʿtibārāt), or attributions (iḍāfāt) connecting His Essence with the
objects of His knowledge, will, power, etc. See paras. 28, 29 (and 39) and
glosses 22 (and 33) as well as Larī’s commentary on para. 28.
1. al-Ism
al-jāmiʿ, also known as al-ism al-aʿẓam, is a term for the Name Allāh, since this name is said to comprehend all of God’s
Names and Attributes. See Sharḥ al-durrah
al-fākhirah, fol. 105a; Ḥusaynābādī, al-Risālah al-qudsiyyah,
fol. 102b; Kāshānī, Iṣṭilāḥāt, 89, under al-ism al-aʿẓam; and Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-ism
al-aʿẓam.
2. al-Tarawḥun is apparently derived from rūḥānī. In Sharḥ al-durrah
al-fākhirah, al-tarawḥun is defined as sanctification
and shedding or casting off [of bodily attributes] (al-taqaddus
wa’l-insilākh). See fol. 105a. See also Dozy, Supplément,
I, 568, under rawḥana. Jāmī also uses this term in
his commentary on the 22nd faṣṣ of Ibn ʿArabī’s Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam. See his Sharḥ fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, II, 266.
3. Idrīs and Ilyās are each
mentioned twice in the Qurʾān without, however, being identified
with each other. See Qurʾān 19:56 and 21:85 for Idrīs and 6:
85 and 37:123–130 for Ilyās. For their identity with each other and other
pertinent information, see A. J. Wensinck, ‘Idrīs’ and ‘Ilyās’ in Gibb, Shorter Encyclopedia of Islam, 158–159, 164–165; as well as
Ṭabarī,
Jāmiʿ al-bayān, VII, 172; XVI, 72; XVII,
58, XXIII, 60; and Ibn ʿArabī, Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, I, 181; II, 257.
4. Huwiyyah,
which has been translated here as ipseity, is commonly defined as the
particular reality (al-ḥaqīqah
al-juzʾiyyah) or particular quiddity (al-māhiyyah al-juzʾiyyah), that is, the individuated
quiddity as opposed to the universal quiddity. The word is sometimes used,
however, to mean existence. See Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-māhiyyah;
Aḥmadnagarī¸
Dastūr al-ʿulamā’, III, 283, under al-maʿnā, and III, 478, under al-huwiyyah. For the origin of the word, see Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 112–113.
5. Inniyyah
(anniyyah, āniyyah) is translated here as individual existence in
accordance with the definition given by Kāshānī in his Iṣṭilāḥāt al-ṣūfiyyah, 91. Almost identical
definitions are given by Jurjānī, al-Taʿrīfāt, under al-āniyyah,
and Aḥmadnagarī, Dastūr al-ʿulamā’, I, 197. Much has been
written on the origin and meaning of this term. See, for example, Simon van den
Bergh, ‘Annīyah’ in The Encyclopedia of Islam, New
Edition, I, 513–514; Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 61, Kitāb
al-Alfāẓ, 45; Soheil M. Afnan, Philosophical
Lexicon, 12–13; Goichon, Lexique, 9–12;
Richard M. Frank, ‘The Origin of the Arabic Philosophical Term Annīyah’, in Cahiers de Byrsa 6
(1956): 181–201; and Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny, ‘Anniyya-Anitas’ in Mélanges offerts à Étienne Gilson (Paris-Toronto 1959),
59–91.
1. An associate of ʿAbd al-Qādir Jīlānī, he died
in 570 ah. See Jāmī, Nafaḥāt al-uns, 524–525 of Tehran edition;
al-Tādhifī, Qalāʾid
al-jawāhir,
pp. 118–120; al-Munāwī, al-Kawākib al-durriyyah, fol.
207a–207b; and particularly al-Nabhānī, Jāmiʿ karāmāt
al-awliyāʾ, II, 23–31, which reproduces the fatwā
of al-Suyūṭī entitled al-Munjalī fī taṭawwur
al-walī
(Brockelmann, Geschicte, II, 201, Supplement, II,
188, 195) on the question of whether a walī can be in
two places at once.
2. Qurʾān, 16:60. The translation of
this as well as the other Qurʾānic citations appearing in the texts
is based on that of Mohammed Marmaduke Pickthall in The
Meaning of the Glorious Koran (New York, 1953).
1. That is, existence
attributed to quiddities. According to Fanārī, al-wujūd al-iḍāfī is another way of expressing
the concept of al-mawjūdiyyah, or being existent. See
his Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 53.
2. This last sentence is quoted
from Fanārī, Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 121.
3. For further clarification of
the distinction between aḥadiyyah and wāḥidiyyah, see al-Tahānawī, Kashshāf, 1463, under al-aḥadiyyah, and 1467, under al-wāḥidiyyah; Reynold A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic Mysticism, 94–97; Jāmī, Lawāʾiḥ, Flash XVII, 16 of English
translation, fols. 11a–11b of Persian text; Qayṣarī, Maṭlaʿ khuṣūṣ al-kilam, 11.
4. For the source of this
paragraph, see Jurjānī, Sharḥ
al-mawāqif,
VIII, 44–45, 47.
1. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt al-Hamadānī in his Zubdat al-ḥaqāʾiq, 40, 42.
2. The quotation, which extends
through para. 36, is actually from Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Sharḥ
al-ishārāt, namaṭ 7, 329–331.
1. See Ṭūsī, Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
329.
2. See Ṭūsī, Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
330–331.
1. Qurʾān 34:3.
2. Dāwūd ibn Maḥmūd al-Qayṣarī. See his Maṭlaʿ khuṣūṣ al-kilam, 16–17, quotations from
which constitute most of this paragraph.
1. The meaning of the last half
of this paragraph is not clear to me, and I have consequently resorted to a
completely literal translation of it. Muḥammad Maʿṣūm in his commentary on al-Durrah al-fākhirah entitled al-Farīdah
al-nādirah, fol. 142a, interprets al-nūriyyah
(luminosity) to mean ʿilm (knowledge) and al-shāhidiyyah
to mean al-ʿālimiyyah (being a knower) and al-maʿlūmiyyah (being an object of
knowledge) respectively. If such is the case the last half of this paragraph
can be interpreted as follows:
If God’s Essence is the cause of His self-knowledge, that is,
if He knows His Essence through His essence directly rather than through a
superadded form, then He can be said to be knowledge or luminosity (al-nūriyyah). If he is further considered as being the
cause of His own existence, that is, as being a giver of existence to His
Essence which is also the object of His knowledge, and as being present to His
Essence, that is, being a knower of His Essence, then He can be said to have
six aspects: existence (wujūd), being a giver of
existence (wājidiyyah), being a recipient of
existence (mawjūdiyyah), knowledge (shuhūd), being a knower (shāhidiyyah),
and being an object of knowledge (mashhūdiyyah).
1. Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī in his Risālah
to Ṣadr
al-Dīn al-Qūnawī, MS Warner Or. 1133, fol. 33a–33b; Wetzstein II 1806, fol.
41a–41b; MS Vat. Arab. 1453, fols. 21b–22a. The quotation extends to the end of
para. 42.
1. This last sentence is quoted
from al-Fanārī, Miṣbāḥ al-uns, 60. See also Qurʾān 10:61, and 34:3.
2. The literal meaning of maʿiyyah is ‘witness’. According to Ḥusaynābādī in his commentary,
al-Risālah al-qudsiyyah, fol. 112b, God’s coextension
is not like the coextension of substances and accidents but, on the contrary,
like that of the soul with the body.
1. That is, the quotation from Ṭūsī found in paragraphs 41
and 42.
2. Jāmī’s source for the first
part of this paragraph is Taftāzānī, Sharḥ al-maqāṣid, II, 69. The rest of the
paragraph including the quotation from Ibn Sīnā is derived from Jurjānī, Sharḥ al-mawāqif, VIII, 81. The original
source of the quotation from Ibn Sīnā is his al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt, Part 3, namaṭ 7, 729–730.
Abbreviations
EI2 |
The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New edition |
EIR |
Encyclopaedia Iranica |
JRAS |
Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society |
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ʿAbd Allāh ibn Abbās here
Abharī, Athīr al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here
Abraham here, here, here, here, here, here
Abrahamic religions here
Abū ʿAbd Allāh Ḥamūyah ibn ʿUthmān here
Abū Bakr here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Abū Hurayrah here
Abū Saʿīd here
Adam here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Aḥrār, ʿUbayd Allāh here
Aḥsāʾī, Ibn Abī Jumhūr here, here–here, here–here
Akhlāq-i jalālī, of Dawānī here, here, here, here–here
Alamūt here
Aleppo here, here, here, here, here
ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, first Shiʿi Imam here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
al-ʿAllāf, Abu’l-Hudhayl here, here
Āmidī, Shaykh ʿAbd al-Wāḥid here
Āmul here
Āmulī, Sayyid Ḥaydar here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here
Anatolia here, here, here, here, here, here
Anaxagoras here–here
Anaximander here, here
Anaximenes here, here
Andalusia here
Ankara here
Arabs here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Aristotelian [ism] here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Aristotle here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Arselaus here
al-Ashʿarī, Abu’l-Ḥasan here, here, here, here
Ashʿarism, Ashʿarites here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Āshtiyānī, Mīrzā Aḥmad here
Āshtiyānī, Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn here, here, here, here
astrology here, here, here, here
astronomy here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Athales here
Athens, Athenians here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Averroes see
Ibn Rushd
Avicenna see
Ibn Sīnā
Avicennan here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Awjabī, ʿAlī here
Ayyūbī, Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn (Saladin) here
Azarbaijan here
Bābā Afḍal see Kāshānī, Afḍal al-Dīn
Bābā Ṭāhir ʿUryān here
Babylon here, here
Baghdad here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Bahman (archangel) here, here, here, here
Bahman, King here
Bahmanyār ibn Marzbān here
Baḥrayn here
al-Baṣrī, Abu’l-Ḥusayn here, here, here, here
Basṭāmī, Bāyazīd here, here
Bāwandid here
Bāyazīd II here
Bible here, here
Brahmins here
Byzantium here
Corbin,
Henry here, here, here
cosmology here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Crusades here
Dabīrān-i Kātibī see Qazwīnī, Dabīrān-i Kātibī
Dāmād, Farīd al-Dīn here
Damascus here, here, here
Dānish-Pazhūh, M. T. here
Dashtakī, Ghiyāth al-Dīn Manṣūr here, here, here, here
Dashtakī, Ṣadr al-Dīn here, here
David here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Dawānī, Jalāl al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here
Democritus here
Dhahabiyyah here
al-Durrah al-fākhirah, of Jāmī here, here, here–here
Durrat al-tāj, of Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī here, here, here, here, here–here
Egypt
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Empedocles here, here, here, here–here, here
Ephesus here
Epicurus here, here
epistemology here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
ethics here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Euclid here, here–here, here, here
Fāḍil-i Hirawī here
Fāḍil-i Tūnī here
Fakhr al-Muḥaqqiqīn here
Fārābī, Abū Naṣr here, here, here, here, here
Farghānī, Saʿd al-Dīn here
Fārs here, here, here
al-Fārsī, Kamāl al-Dīn here
al-Fārsī, Ẓahīr al-Dīn here
Fasāʾī, Kamāl al-Dīn here
Firdawsī, Abu’l Qāsim here, here, here
Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, of Ibn ʿArabī here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikmah, attributed to Fārābī here, here
al-Futūḥāt
al-Makkiyyah, of Ibn ʿArabī here, here, here, here, here, here
geometry
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Ghazzālī, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here–here, here, here, here
Ghazzālī, Aḥmad here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here
Gīlān here
gnosticism (ʿirfān), gnosis here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Greece, Greeks here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Guarded Tablet here, here
Gulshan-i rāz, of Shabistarī here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim
ḥadīth here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Ḥāfiẓ, Shams al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here
al-Ḥallāj, Manṣūr here, here, here
Hamadān here, here, here, here, here
Hamadānī, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here
Hamadānī, Yūsuf here
Ḥamūyah, Saʿd al-Dīn here
Ḥasan-Zādah Āmulī, Ḥasan here
Hayākil al-nūr, of Suhrawardī here, here, here, here
Heraclitus here
Herat here, here, here, here
Hermeticism here, here, here
al-ḥikmah
al-mutaʿāliyah (transcendent theosophy) here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Ḥikmat al-ʿayn, of Kātibī-yi Qazwīnī here, here, here, here, here, here–here
Ḥikmat
al-ishrāq,
of Suhrawardī here, here, here, here here, here, here–here, here–here
Ḥillī, ʿAllāmah Jamāl al-Dīn here, here, here
Homer, here
Hülagü here, here, here
Ḥurūfīs here, here, here
Iblīs
here,
here
Ibn ʿArabī, Muḥyī al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Ibn Athīr here
Ibn al-Bizrī Jazarī here
Ibn al-Haytham here
Ibn Jawzī Ḥanbalī here
Ibn Kammūnah here, here, here
Ibn Khallakān here
Ibn Masarrah here
Ibn Rushd (Averroes) here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Ibn Sīnā, Abū ʿAlī al- Ḥusayn ibn ʿAbd Allāh (Avicenna) here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Ibn Taymiyyah here
Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī, Ṣāʾin al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here
Ibrāhīmī Dīnānī, Ghulām-Ḥusayn here
Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm
al-dīn,
of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here, here, here, here
Ījī, ʿAḍud al-Dīn here, here, here, here
Īlkhānids here, here
India, Indians here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
al-Iqtiṣād fiʾl-iʿtiqād, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here–here
Iraq here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
ʿIrāqī, Fakhr al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here
Isfahan here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, see also
School of Isfahan
Isfandiyār here
ishrāqī
philosophy see School of Illumination
Ismailis, Ismailism here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Jāmī,
ʿAbd
al-Raḥmān here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here
Jāmiʿ al-asrār, of Āmulī here, here, here, here, here–here
Jerusalem here
Jesus here, here, here, here, here, here, here
al-Jīlī, ʿAbd al-Karīm here
Junayd here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Jurjānī, Mīr Sayyid Sharīf here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Juwaynī, Imām al-Ḥaramayn Abu’l Ma‘alī here, here
Kāshān
here,
here
Kāshānī, Afḍal al-Dīn (Bābā Afḍal) here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here
Kaysari here
Khafrī, Shams al-Dīn here, here
Khayyām, ʿUmār here, here, here, here, here
Khomeini, Ayatollah here
Khunjī, Afḍal al-Dīn here
Khurāsān here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Khwājah-Zādah, Muṣliḥ al-Dīn ibn Yūsuf here
Khwārazmī, Tāj al-Dīn here
Kīmīyā-yi saʿādat, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here
Kirmānī, Awḥad al-Dīn here, here
Kitāb al-Ishārāt
wa’l-tanbīhāt, of Ibn Sīnā here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim, here, here, here
Kitāb al-Mujlī mirʾāt al-munjī, of Aḥsāʾī here, here, here, here–here
Kitāb al-Tajrīd, of Ṭūsī here, here, here
Konya here, here
Kubrā, Najm al-Dīn here, here, here, here
Kubrawiyyah here
Lāhījī,
Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad here, here, here–here, here–here
Lawāʾiḥ, of Jāmī here, here, here, here
logic here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Lucifer, or Iblīs here
Luqmān here, here
Mafātīḥ al-iʿjāz fī sharḥ gulshan-i rāz, of Lāhījī here, here–here
Maḥakk al-naẓar, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here, here
Maimonides here
Malik Ẓāhir here
Mamlūks here
Manichaeism here
Marāghah here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
mashshāʾī
philosophy see Peripatetic philosophy
mathematics, mathematicians here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here; arithmetic here, here, here, here, here, here; geometry here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Mathnawī, of Rūmī here
Mawlawiyyah here
Maybudī, Amīr Ḥusayn here, here, here–here, here–here
Māzandarān here, here
Māzāndarānī, ʿAlī ibn here
Mazdean here, here
Mecca (Makkah) here, here, here, here, here
medicine here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Medina (Madīnah) here
Metantes here
metaphysics here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Miftāḥ al-ghayb, of Qūnawī
here
Miletus here, here
Mīr Dāmād, Muḥammad Bāqir here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Mishkāt al-anwār, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here, here, here, here–here
al-Miṣrī, Dhu’l-Nūn here, here, here
al-Miṣrī, Quṭb al-Dīn here
Miʿyār al-ʿilm, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here, here
Mongols here, here, here, here, here
Moses here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Muḥammad, the Prophet here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Muḥammad ibn Makkī (al-Shahīd
al-aw-wal) here
al-Mūjaz al-kabīr, of Ibn Sīnā here–here, here
Mullā Ṣadrā (Ṣadr al-Dīn Shīrazī) here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
al-Munqidh min al-ḍalāl, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here
Muṣannafāt, of Afḍal al-Dīn Kāshānī here, here, here–here
al-Muṭāraḥāṭ, of Suhrawardī here, here–here
Muʿtazilism, Muʿtazilites here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Nahj al-balāghah, of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib here
Najaf here, here
al-Najāt, of Ibn Sīnā here, here
Naqshbandī Order here, here
Nasafī, ʿAzīz al-Dīn here
Naṣīr al-Dīn Muḥtashim here
Nāṣir Khusraw here
Nayshāpūr here, here, here
Neoplatonism here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Niẓām al-Mulk here
Niẓāmī here
Niẓāmiyyah here, here, here, here
Niʿmatullāhiyyah here
Nūr Bakhsh, Sayyid Muḥammad here
al-Nuṣūṣ, of Qūnawī here, here, here, here–here
Nuzhat al-arwāḥ wa rawḍat al-afrāḥ, of Shahrazūrī here, here, here, here–here
Oriental
philosophy here, here
Ottomans, Ottoman Turkey here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Parmenides
here
Peripatetic philosophy, Peripatetics here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Persian (language) here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Persians here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Philharmainus here
philosophical Sufism here–here, here–here, here, here–here, here–here, here–here, here–here
philosophy (falsafah),
philosophers (falāsifah, faylasūf)
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here–here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here–here, here, here, here, here, here, see also
Peripatetic philosophy, philosophical Sufism, School of Illumination, School of Isfahan, School of Khurāsān, School of Shiraz
physics here, here, here, here
Plato, Platonism here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Porphyry here, here
politics here, here, here
psychology here, here, here, here, here, here
Ptolomy here
Pythagoras here, here–here, here, here, here, here
Qājār
dynasty here, here
Qazwīn here, here
Qazwīnī, Dabīrān-i Kātibī here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here
Qiṣṣat al-ghurbah al-gharbiyyah, of Suhrawardī here–here
al-Qisṭās
al-mustaqīm, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here
Quhistān here
Qūnawī, Ṣadr al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here
Qurʾān here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here–here passim,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Rāwandī,
Quṭb
al-Dīn here
Rayy here
Rāzī, Aḥmad here
Rāzī, Fakhr al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Rāzī, Quṭb al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here
Rāzī, Najm al-Dīn here
Risālah andar qismat-i mawjūdāt, of Ṭūsī here, here, here–here
al-Risālah fī ḥaqīqat al-ʿishq, of Suhrawardī here
al-Risālah fī maʿrifat al-wujūd, of Āmulī here
al-Risālah al-hādiyah, of Qūnawī here
al-Risālah al-mufṣiḥah, of Qūnawī
here
al-Risālah al-shāfiʿiyyah, of Ṭūsī here
al-Risālah al-shamsiyyah, of Kātibī here, here
al-Risālat al-laduniyyah, of Abū Ḥāmid Ghazzālī here, here, here, here–here
Rome here, here
Rūmī, Jalāl al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Rūmī, Qāḍīzādah here, here
Rūzbihān Kabīr, Shaykh here
Sabziwārī,
Ḥājjī
Mullā Hādī here, here, here
Saʿdī here, here, here
Safavids here, here, here, here, here, here
Ṣafī ʿAlī Shāhiyyah here
Sajjādī, Sayyid Jaʿfar here
Salāmān and Absāl here, here, here–here, here
Saliba, George here
Samarqand here, here, here
Sanāʾī Ghaznawī here, here
Sāwajī, Ibn Salhān here
Sawāniḥ al-ʿushshāq, of Aḥmad Ghazzālī here, here, here, here–here, here
School of Azarbaijan here
School of Illumination here–here passim,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
School of Isfahan here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
School of Khurāsān here, here, here
School of Shiraz here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Shabistarī, Shaykh Maḥmūd here, here, here, here–here, here–here passim
al-Shādhilī, Abu’l-Ḥasan here
Shāfiʿī School here, here, here, here, here, here
Shahrastānī, Muḥammad ʿAbd al- Karīm here, here
Shahrazūrī, Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here
al-Shajarah al-ilāhiyyah, of Shahrazūrī here, here
Sharḥ hayākil
al-nūr,
of Dawānī here, here, here, here–here
Sharḥ hidāyat
al- ḥikmah, of Maybudī here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here
Sharḥ
al-ishārāt,
of Ṭūsī
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here
al-Shifāʾ, of Ibn Sīnā here, here, here, here, here–here
Shiraz here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Shīrāzī, Bābā Rukn al-Dīn here
Shīrāzī, Quṭb al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Shīrāzī, Ṣadr al- Dīn see
Mullā Ṣadrā
Simnānī, ʿAlaʾ al-Dawlah here, here
Sivas here
Socrates here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here
Solomon here, here, here, here
Sprenger, Aloys here
Stoics here
Sufism, Sufis here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here passim,
see also philosophical Sufism
Suhrawardī, ʿAbd Allāh here
Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here passim,
here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Suhrawardiyyah here, here
Sultan Āq-quyunlū here
Sultan Ḥusayn Mīrzā here
Sultan Maḥmūd of Ghazna here
Sunnism here
Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn here, here
Syria here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Tabriz
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Taʿdīl al-miʿyār fī tanzīl al-afkār, of Abharī here–here
Taftazānī, Saʿd al-Dīn here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Tahāfut al-falāsifah, of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad Ghazzālī here, here, here
tahāfut literature here
Taʿliqāt ʿalā sharḥ ḥikmat al-ishrāq, of Mullā Ṣadrā here, here, here, here–here
Tamerlane here
Tamhīdāt, of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī here, here, here, here, here, here–here
Tamhīd al-qawāʿid, of Ibn Turkah Iṣfahānī here, here, here, here–here
al- Taṣawwur
wa’l-taṣdīq, of Quṭb al-Dīn Rāzī here, here, here, here–here
Thales here–here, here
theology (kalām),
theologians (mutakallimūn) here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here
Thomas, St here
Tirmidhī, Ḥakīm here
Torah here, here
Ṭūs here
Ṭūsī, ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn here
Ṭūsī, Naṣīr al-Dīn here–here passim,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here,
here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here
Twelver Shiʿism here, here, here, here, here
ʿUmar Khaṭṭāb here
Urmawī, Sirāj al-Dīn here
Varāmīn
here
Vohu-Manah see
Bahman
Walbridge,
John here
Yazd here, here
Yūnus, Kamāl al-Dīn here
Zanjān
here,
here,
here
Zarpata here
Ziai, Hossein here, here
Zoroastrianism here, here
Published in 2012 by I.B.Tauris & Co Ltd
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Copyright
© Islamic Publications Ltd, 2012
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ISBN
978 1 84885 749 0
eISBN
978 0 85773 342 9
A
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