Mysticism As Morality: The Case of Sufism

Journal of Religious Ethics, Inc
Blackwell Publishing Ltd

Mysticism as Morality: The Case of Sufism
Author(s): Paul L. Heck
Source: The Journal of Religious Ethics, Vol. 34, No. 2 (Jun., 2006), pp. 253-286
Published by: Blackwell Publishing Ltd on behalf of Journal of Religious Ethics, Inc
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MYSTICISM AS MORALITY
The Case of Sufism
Paul L. Heck
ABSTRACT
Sufism - spiritual practice, intellectual discipline, literary tradition, and

social institution - has played an integral role in the moral formation of
Muslim society. Its aspiration toward a universal kindness to all creature
beyond the requirements of Islamic law has added a distinctly hypernomi
dimension to the moral vision of Islam, as evidenced in a wide range of
Sufi literature. The universal perspective of Sufism, fully rooted in Islam
revelation, yields a lived (and not just studied) ethics with the potential
to view and embrace all creatures through a single ethical vision, regard
less of religious or other affiliation. This side of Islam, both acknowledgin
and surpassing the outlook of the legal heritage, offers important insig
into understanding the nature of Muslim society as both Islamic and meta
Islamic in religious orientation. Sufism, still significant in today's Islam
world, thus offers important material for locating Islam as part of an i
ternational order with principles and standards that resonate deeply wit
the moral vision of Islam itself.
key words: Islam, morality, mysticism, skepticism, Sufism
THIS ARTICLE CONSIDERS THE MORAL POSSIBILITIES of mystical insight.

Pursuing that topic by examining the case of Sufism is at the same time
an exploration of the nature of Islam. The overall discussion, however,
aims to raise issues of use to contemporary moral reflection. The author
of a recent popular book on ethics, which looks at the failure of people to
act morally despite their moral knowledge, suggests that ethics is neither "strict utility maximization" nor "absolute individual rights," but
rather "a lifelong quest to respond to others with a willingness to forego
brazen self-interest" (Allen 2004, 7). Sufism would wholeheartedly agree
that moral action comes about not simply from knowledge of the outer
life (the moral teachings of Islam as set down in doctrinal creed and legal
ruling) but most fully through the refinement of the inner life whereby
concern for self is no longer paramount. Mysticism, then, has something
to say to the apparent failure of human reason to establish a framework
of common values out of diverse social and legal traditions of morality
(whether secular or religious in orientation); after all, is there anyone

JRE 34.2:253-286. 2006 Journal of Religious Ethics, Inc.
254 Journal of Religious Ethics

who would challenge the virtue of selfless action? At the same time, at
stake in this question is insight into the nature of Islam - a particularly
urgent task these days - as a way to supplement and even correct both
popular and scholarly perception.
That Sufism has a particular moral vision has been suggested in
studies of individual Sufi masters (for example, Bowering 1984; Chittick
1994; Sells 2002; and Huda 2004), and this squares with reflection
on the moral dimensions of mysticism in general (for example, Katz
1983; Barnard and Kripal 2002). This is not the place to ask whether
mystical religiosity is different only in degree or also in kind from
nonmystical religiosity (see Hallamish 1999, 1-16), nor whether different
mystical traditions can be fruitfully compared but rather to survey the
mystical tradition of Islam more broadly, here in the classical period, to
capture recurring conceptions of moral character.1
Sufism has played a pervasive and unparalleled role in shaping

Muslim society (for an overview of Sufism, see Knysh 2000). Its moral
vision, while exhibiting elitist tendencies (Awn 1983), cannot be limited
to higher echelons, whether social or religious (Lewisohn 1999b notes

Suf ism's combination of spiritual elitism and social popularism): works
on ethics from a Sufi point of view continue to be composed for pop-
ular consumption (for example, al-Samarra'I 2000; Fatima 2001). It is

the vast influence of Sufism, continuing today despite rationalist and
fundamentalist challenges (Sirriyeh 1999), that makes it impossible,
when speaking of Islam as a whole, to reduce its moral vision to the
commands and prohibitions of its law (Reinhart 1983). The expansive
networks and institutional organization of Sufism brought its higher
morality, cultivated intensely by its spiritual adepts, to wider circles of
Muslims, mainly through orally communicated instruction from sheikh
to followers, eventually set down in manuals that enjoy wide prestige
and authority in the Islamic world today, for example, the works of
al-Sarraj (d. 378AH/988CE), al-Qushayrl (d. 465/1073), and Abu Najlb
al-Suhrawardl (d. 563/1 168).2
To be sure, Islam contains multiple ethical traditions (Fakhry 1991;
Vadet 1995), with overlap and amalgamation among the various cultural and intellectual strands of the Islamic heritage - philosophical and
courtly no less than legal and mystical. The legal tradition, for its part,
1 Sufism, both intellectual discipline and social institution, offers a multivalent vision
of morality that includes both moral character (khulq, pl. akhldq) and fraternal etiquette
(adab, pl. dddb). Although the two are connected and at times used interchangeably in
the literature, here the focus will be on khulq as moral disposition toward created reality
entirely and not on the behavior (that is, way of life) expected of members of a Sufi group
in their mutual interactions and shared activities.
2 The last one clearly speaks to popular participation in the Sufi way of life (see Malamud
1994).
Mysticism as Morality 255

discourages action based on self-interest,3 but it is worth asking whether
such legally formulated selflessness was meant to be limited to deal-
ings with other Muslims, while dealings with non-Muslims were conceived in terms of the requirements of justice alone? Alongside the legally
protected status awarded to non-Muslims under Islamic rule, the legal

tradition does at times suggest that moral action owed to non-Muslims
is not the same as that owed to fellow Muslims.4 Moreover, Islam as defined by sharT'a balks, in principle, at recognition of other legal systems,
viewed as at odds, wholly or in part, with the divine law of Islam (for
another position see Dallal 1996 and Abou El Fadl 1994). So, one must
turn to societal sources other than law, however important that might
be, when considering the moral qualities of Muslim society, especially
a sociomoral politesse based on humbleness, generosity, and attentive-
ness to others. This is not to suggest that Muslim society - no less or

more than Christian, Jewish, and other religiously informed societies is free of moral dilemma and shortcoming or that Sufism is not liable to
exploitation (Malamud 1996; Hammoudi 1997), nor even that the mystical tradition in Islam can be viewed separately from the legal one (see
below). Rather, again, our goal is to consider the moral sources at play
in the qualities of attentiveness to and service of others observable in,
even hallmarks of, Muslim society, which cannot be fully accounted for
by reference to legal rulings alone.
Islam, broadly speaking, has two concerns: (1) the outer (dhdhir),
namely the commands and prohibitions set down in divine law {sharT'a),
whether specified in the revealed texts (that is, the Qur'an and Sunna,
as word of God and precedent of the Prophet, respectively) or derived by
jurists; and (2) the inner (bdtin), namely the movements of one's soul that
speak to the true reality (haqiqa) beyond outward appearances, which

both encompasses and surpasses the law. The first speaks to criteria of
religio-communal membership as articulated by religio-legal specialists
(faqih, pl. fuqahd' or 'dlim, pl. 'ulamd'), the second to psycho-spiritual
states as discerned by religio-spiritual masters (shaykh, pl. shuyilkh);
the two roles can be and often have been played by a single person. The
aim of the first is worship of God with a moral vision generally limited to norms and customs (that is, a way of life) specific to the Muslim
3 For example, al-Bukhari's canonical collection of prophetic reports (al-Bukhari 1997),
which encourages neighborliness (nos. 102, 115), love (no. 260), mercy (no. 374; even to
animals, nos. 380-386), patiently enduring injury from others (nos. 390-392), and foregoing
revenge for oneself (only revenge on behalf of God is permitted, no. 275).
4 See, again, al-Bukhan 1997: For example, no. 109 which sharply limits who one's
neighbor is and no. 114 which devalues the status of non-Muslims. It is, however, worth
remembering that the aim of the canonical collection of prophetic reports (hadith) was not
to consider the moral implications of God's universal presence amidst His creatures but to
shape a communal identity on the basis of prophetic precedent.

community, while the aim of the second is realization of God with a moral
vision potentially as unlimited as the unbounded presence of God. Those
believed to have reached this mystical awareness have come to be reckoned as Muslim saints, known as allies of God (awliyd' alldh) on account
of their closeness to Him. They have been viewed as agents who afford
access to the divine presence, providing meaning, even if hidden, for the
entire cosmos. As a result, they have been given such titles as "axis of
the age" (qutb al-zamdn) and "perfect human" (al-insdn al-kdmil) who,
clothing themselves with the divine presence as the only true reality,
become heirs, and sometimes rivals, of the prophets (Radtke 1999).
The legal and mystical traditions of Islam - shari'a and sufiyya,

respectively - are not at odds. The latter is generally divided into
intoxicated and sober forms - the first associated with a certain degree
of antinomian behavior; moreover, Sufi masters, such as Sheikh Arslan
(d. middle of 6th/12th century, patron saint of Damascus) in his letter
on divine unity, have criticized legalistic religiosity as an obstacle to

life in God (Geoffroy 2002, 75-78). Still, Sufi adherents, aligning their
practices with qur'anic language and outlook (Massignon 1922; Nwyia

1970), view the mystical path (al-tanqa) that leads to a realization of
true reality (al-haqiqa) as beginning in and based upon the revealed
law (al-sharT'a, a point emphasized by Ahmad al-Sirhindi, d. 1034/1624,
major figure of the Naqshbandi group; see J.G.J. Ter Haar 1992, 47-57);
revealed law, then, even if not the final end of religion for Sufism, can
never be marginalized since it constitutes the unique starting point for
knowledge of divine truth (understood as fulfillment of the purpose of
the law). Revelation, God's communication that initiates the venture of
Islam, is viewed by religio-legal specialists as divine command (amr)

and by religio-spiritual adepts as divine communion (wisdl), making
of Sufism not an antinomian force by which the dictates of the law are
supplanted by the passions of the heart as moral guide but rather a

hypernomian force for surpassing, without abandoning, legal rulings
for the sake of a loving kindness toward all creatures (see Cooperson
2000, 159, for early Sufi caution toward those who would abandon
law for mysticism). Mysticism, then, has something more to offer than
simple repudiation of normative convention (cf. Woods 2002, 177, on the
difference between mystical and political antinomianism in medieval

Christianity), as suggested by Ibn Arab! (d. 638/1234), towering figure
of mystical philosophy, in a letter on the universal purview of moral
character in the Sufi sense ('umum makdrim al-akhldq):
Kindly moral character (husn al-akhldq) is obligatory ... for the Prophet
(God's peace and blessing upon him) said, "Indeed I have been sent to
bring to fulfillment noble traits of character." . . . and since it is impossible

[by human effort] to be of a noble character that pleases all creatures . . . God
introduced Himself into companionship with His servants (adkhala alldh

nafsahu ma'a 'ibadihi fi suhba)
ble morality only by the companionship of

God and avoid what displeases Him, whethe
ers (ild l-ghayr), for conduct toward other
that please God. So, undertake a noble morality only with God
Muslims [lit. believers] and non-Muslims [lit.

protection] benefit by those who are attentive
alldh). God has a claim on every Muslim in thei
tures, without exception, from every class of
plant, mineral and inanimate creature, wheth
1997,57-58].
Such words, of course, can never be shorn of a social context in

which Islam was understood to prevail socially, religiously, and politically. They do, however, indicate a moral dynamic that is not limited to
command and prohibition but extends kindness to all things apart from
considerations of communal identity or even physical nature. Abu Najlb
al-Suhrawardi, whose manual did much to popularize Sufi wisdom, spells
this out in a long list of moral qualities that Sufism engenders,5 saying
that anyone with a Sufi affiliation (and, again, his work speaks to popular participation in the Sufi way of life) should aspire to a moral level
that minimally holds to "abandoning [one's right] to requital (mukdfa'a),
mercy to those who treat one unjustly, and supplication (du'd, to God)
on their behalf" (Abu Najlb al-Suhrawardi 1977, 19). Such qualities
of forbearance and generosity as expounded in Sufi manuals were not
merely ideals but were to be implemented in daily life by followers of the
Sufi way.6 Without wanting to idealize Sufism, we will in what follows
consider how the mystical experience to which it aspires can lend itself to
5 It should be noted, again, that al-Suhrawardi's list of the moral expectations of
Sufism are not delineated in - even if they are not opposed by - the legal tradition (Abu
Najlb al-Suhrawardi 1977, 19): "Forbearance, humility, counsel-giving, compassion, toleration, concord, kindness, savoir-faire (muddrdt), altruism, service, intimacy (ulfa), joyfulness (bashdsha), generosity, chivalry (futuwa), self-sacrifice (badhl al-jdh), virility
(muruwa), love (mawadda), goodness (Jud), affection (tawaddud), forgiveness, clemency,
open-handedness (sakhd'), loyalty, modesty, niceness (talattuf), gladness (bishr), cheerfulness (taldqa), tranquility (sakma), dignity, supplication and praise of God, good opinion [of
others], self-deprecation, dignifying (tawqir) the [Sufi] brethren and honoring (tabjil) the
[Sufi] masters, mercifulness (tarahhum) towards [both] small and great, thinking small
what one gives and great what one receives."
6 See Walbridge 1999, 331, who in the following words summarizes the ethical vision of
Sufism as referenced in the encyclopedia of Qutb al-Dln al-ShirazI (d. 710/1311): "Moreover,
the seeker should not be content with obeying the Law but should go on to satisfy the
requirements of justice - the spirit of the Law - and the virtues of generosity connected
with each point of Law. Therefore, a merchant mystic must arrange his contracts to be
legally valid under all the schools of the Law, must strive to practice his business in such a
way as not to do to another what he would not want done to himself - by not overrating his
merchandise, for example - and must practice generosity in his trade, by granting better
terms to the poor than the rich and by being lenient in payment terms."

an other-centered morality that extends to all creatures, who are viewed
equally in relation to the true reality of the divine presence, as Rumi (d.
672/1273), towering figure of mystical poetry, puts it:
He (God) brought the saints onto the earth, in order that He might
make them a mercy to (all) created beings
the particular mercy [that is, limited in some w

(rahmat-e kulli) belongs to the hero (the perfect
translated edition 101].
What, then, are the implications of the Sufi emphasis on inner life?7
The moral vision of Sufism will be considered by exploring (1) its aim
and practice, (2) its specific conception of religious knowledge, and (3)
the popularization of its moral vision in anecdotes and tales. We will
conclude with remarks on the socio-moral relevance of Sufism today.
1. Moral Aims and Practices of Sufism
Sufism in principle aims (1) to bridle the evil inclinations of one's sou
by waging jihad against its baser elements, the via purgativa, and (2) to
examine the movements of the soul, to determine which communicate
a concern for self and which a concern for God. Renunciation (zuhd),
particularly of self-interest, while a necessary preparation, is not enough
since even the ascetic might take pride in his or her sincerely performed
action. Sincerity, the wolf in sheep's clothing for Sufism, can actually lead
to an exaltation of the self out of an arrogant disdain for others whose
religious deeds may appear to be performed hypocritically - that is, only
in outward form.8 Sufis have thus long realized that there can be no "I"
at all if action is to have any moral worth; ascetical self-renunciation

must finally yield to God's possession of the soul, which is (1) initiated
7 For the rise and formation of Sufism, as movement and religious science, see Knysh
2000. It is worth spelling out here that Sufism draws heavily upon the Qur'an, source o
all Muslim religiosity: it is God's spirit that is in the human being (Q 15:29; 38:7) and His
signs that are manifest in creation (45:3) and human beings (41:53) as the noblest of Hi
creatures (17:70). Life in God as the final end is attained only via a struggle (hence, th
inner jihad) to live entirely oriented to the way of God (22:78). The preexistential covenan
made between humans in God, sealed by humankind's recognition of God's lordship (7:172)
makes humans disposed to seek God as final end in all things (2:115), His face being th
only enduring reality (28:88). The human being, created weak (4:27), is in need of prophetic
guidance to remember his true nature, and the soul must be prepared for this by recallin
God at all times (3:41, 4:103, and 76:25); the soul comes to abandon its evilly inclined state
(12:53) by reproach (75:2, understood by Sufism as self-renunciation), moving to a state referred to as the contented soul (89:27-28) - in which it is satisfied with God alone and
ambitious of nothing save His cause.

8 This is not to confuse Sufism with a contemporary religiosity that limits itself to
intellectual belief without concrete adherence to religio-moral norms. There are, of course,
forms of "new age" Sufism, especially in the West, that cultivate Sufi sensibilities through
ceremony and meditation with little or no interest in the legal tradition of Islam.

through perpetual recitation (dhikr) of God's names and other litanies,
and (2) perfected by progressively more advanced spiritual states and

stations. The process climaxes in annihilation {fand') in God wherein one
does not die physically but spiritually, with survival (baqd') now not the
affair of oneself but the divine presence, God, as singular reality remaining in the inner chambers of the soul.9 At this point, God alone is agent of
one's action, which is understood as true monotheism (that is, not merely
that there is one God but that there is nothing else but God), and it is this
state that grants a moral worth to one's action as devoid of self-interest.
Annihilation in God as singular reality is not to claim an illusory

character for the world. Being is not an illusion but a means whereby all
creation and especially humans might manifest God,10 who, according to
Sufi lore, longs to be known as the hidden jewel of existence.11 Against
the not infrequent claim that the mystical outlook, considering the normal view of the world to be an illusion, inevitably ends in apathy, Sufi
tradition insists that moral indifference is not an option (nor suicide).
This is because for Sufism mystical awareness of God necessarily leads
not to disjuncture between divine object of mystical contemplation and
worldly reality but to a witnessing of God in all things simply by virtue
of the fact that for the Sufi adept there is nothing else.12 The world is
9 This is not to suggest a single way of imagining the mystical path in the history of
Sufism. For the mystical path without ascetical preparation, see, for example, Lawrence
1983 (on the musical dimensions of Sufism, see Lewisohn 1997).
10 Although considered foreign to "orthodox" Islam, this idea is justified by the statement, found in the canonical collections of prophetic reports, that the human is created in
the image of God (surat alldh). See al-Bukhari 1999, "Kitab al-Isti'dhan," ch. 1, no. 6227:
"God created Adam in his image
11 It should be emphasized that the notion of God m
especially in human beings, was not at all marginal

hadith qudsi (that is, a hadith wherein the Prophe
preserved by al-Bukhari 1999, "Kitab al-Riqaq," ch.
reported from God, Who said: 'I will fight those who
And the most beloved thing to Me by which My su
to Me is [doing] what I have enjoined [that is, legal ob
continue to draw close to me by supererogatory act
become their hearing by which they hear, their sigh
which they strike, their legs by which they walk. If th
it, and if they seek My protection, I will protect th
who speaks of recitation (dhikr) of the names of God
(al-Ghazali 1964, 46-60), summing up the topic in th
which Sufi adepts refer to as annihilation (fand'). This
beginning is dhikr on the tongue, then an affected dh
of the heart, then the possession [of the heart] by
the obliteration of dhikr." In the end, then, one is le
the variegated sound of God's speech manifest in a

commands and prohibitions of the divinely spoken la
12 This raises the difficult but not irresolvable prob
counted a manifestation of the singular reality of Go

not illusion but a mirror in which divine reality is reflected. There is
something out there, a reflection of God if not God himself, and it is
this divinely endowed existence to which the Sufi seeks to orient his or
her life. It is therefore possible to speak of Sufism not as an introverted
mysticism wherein one is detached from all observable reality but as
extroverted, definable as (Stace 1960, 17) "a perception of the world as
transfigured and unified in one ultimate being." For Sufism, being is
monistic but there remains an epistemic duality between God as divine
reality and human as created subject, which makes of one's annihilation
in God not an end, since it implies self-centered gratification (even if
spiritual), the antithesis of Sufism but rather a means to a transfigured
perception of the world (khalvat dar anjuman, "retreat in the world,"
according to a Persian slogan of the Naqshbandi group - that is, being
in but not of the world), as epitomized in one Sufi manual (al-Qushayri
2001, 158): "Moral character is being close to the people but a stranger
to their affairs."
This transfigured perception of reality and its moral implications

are neatly summed up in the work of a 6th/12th-century mystic from
Andalusia, Ibn al-Arif (d. 536/1141). For him, both the legal duties of
sharfa and the spiritual stations of sufiyya are worthless unless informed by a complete orientation toward God (al-nazar ild lldh) at every
moment, regardless of activity or circumstance. It is in that sense that
one's will is no longer operative but God's (Ibn al-'Arif 1980),13 making
it possible to conclude that immoral action is simply not an option in

principle for the Sufi adept.14 The mystic in the case of Islam must be
other-centered in order to be God-centered, since the only other option
is being even marginally self-centered, a state which militates at an essential level against the Sufi goal of being God-centered.15 The necessarily other-oriented outlook of the mystical life is suggested by Abu Hafs
al-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234, nephew of Abu Najib and consolidator of

the Suhrawardi group initiated by his uncle), who says "Whoever claims
possession of something, his altruistic preference is not sound, since he
13 As Lanzetta says in her study of Julian of Norwich and Teresa of Avila (Lanzetta
2005), ". . .the intention of contemplative ethics is to transform or deconstruct traditional
views of human behavior in order to bring the divine vision into the human sphere: amor
mundi."
14 See Jones 1993, 193: "The enlightened have internalized a set of factual beliefs which
permits no self-centered option to occur - they cannot commit an immoral act, that is,
an act overwhelmingly self-regarding rather than other-regarding." See also Katz 1983,
193: "There is even a special moral texture to this postmystical-event morality: it has a
special quality of selflessness. Now in harmony with God's will it is fully 'other-directed'
and unconcerned with self. It is described by Teresa and others in ways reminiscent of the
Mahayana description of the bodhisattva."
15 It is common Sufi wisdom that orientation (tawajjuh) toward God alone is only possible through a complete detachment (inqitd') from oneself and all its concerns, including
not merely the worldly but even the religious and spiritual!

considers his self to be more entitled to the thing by possessing it. However, altruistic preference is the mark of those who consider all things to
belong to God" (Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 250).

Its starting point in the examination and assessment of the inner
attitudes with which one performs religious and other actions, Sufism
can serve as a decimating critique of greed. Are our actions, including
religious ones, prompted by a desire for gain in some shape or form?
Good actions, if performed for self-interest (for example, generosity for

the sake of fame), become morally dubious. In his letter on divine unity,
Sheikh Arslan (see above), criticizes religiosity oriented to law as one of
self-interest (that is, seeking to gain a reward by performing God's commands), praising instead religiosity oriented to love as one of selflessness. The question is not one of religious duty but motive in performing
it. In short, Sufism was fundamentally concerned with the greed unwittingly valorized by a religion of reward and punishment. Epitomizing
this is the popular story of the early female mystic Rabi'a al- Adawiyya
(d. 185/801), who reportedly went about with a bucket of water in one
hand, to douse the fires of hell, and a torch in the other, to burn the
gardens of paradise, so that people would love only God without concern
for recompense due them for performing their religious duties. Similarly,
the Persian mystical poet Attar (d. early 7th/13th) speaks of the promise
of heaven and threat of hell as forms of bribery, a distraction that keeps
believers from pursuing God alone (Attar 1984, 157). He depicts God
saying to David:
Should be creation's all-consuming care;

Though hell were not his fear nor heaven hi
The Lord should wholly occupy man's soul.
But if the sun did not light up the day,
They would not think of Me, nor ever prayTheir prayers know nothing of love's selfles
Not love inspires them but mere lust of gain
True prayer seeks God alone; its motives st
Deep in the center of a contrite heart.
Tell them to turn from all that is not Me;
To worship none but God continuously [Atta
135, 159-60, 175-76].
Sufism's concern for the reduction of r

change is not limited to spiritual goals bu
the domain of morality. The possibility t
tion for the sake of oneself, however up
may appear, casts suspicion on its mor
Athens argues that greed in the hearts o

strife (Balot 2001), and a key goal of Suf

might be called in psychological terms afflictive emotions or in spiritual
terms impurities of the heart, such as greed (hasad, sl prominent theme
in Sufi manuals), that pose obstacles to selfless moral action. The self
or self-regarding orientation as source of both individual and communal
disharmony is to be eliminated, to cut the cycle of pride and vengeance
and all other human vices that concern for self can engender. For Sufism,
all of this requires a circumspect attitude toward religion itself, and it
has been Sufism's refusal to limit religiosity to either action defined by
law (isldm) or belief defined by creed (Tmdn) that creates the possibility
of a morality of kindness (ihsdn) regardless of anticipated gain or loss.16
As Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi puts it in his famous manual on Sufism:

"When the light of [mystical] certainty touches the innermost parts of
the people close to God [that is, Sufis] and takes root there, the heart is
composed in all areas. The heart is partly composed with submission to
the law (isldm), partly with adherence to the creed (imdn), and entirely
by the light of kindness (ihsdnf (Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 235).17
2. The Sufi Understanding of Religious Knowledge

The way moral decisions are made thus depends in part on how one
locates true knowledge: a rational morality, legal morality, scriptural
morality are each shaped by differing conceptions of the source of true
knowledge. This is no less true for mystical morality. What does it mean
16 It should be remembered that these three aspects of religion as viewed by Sufism
are variously conceptualized in the Qur'an. For example, Q 2:178: "For the one forgiven by
his brother, follow customary behavior (al-ma'ruf) with him and treat him with kindness
(ihsdn)."
17 It was even claimed that those who limited religion to the outer life (that is, legally
observable action and theologically defensible belief) actually deviated from true religion, as stated in the introduction to an anonymous manual on Sufism from the 4th/10th
century (Radtke 1991, 1-12). The celebrated litterateur (with Sufi leanings), al-Tawhidl
(d. 414/1023), lost no chance at poking fun of the theologians of his day, whose attempt to
define God resulted in nothing but doubts and divisions, making their theological practice
tantamount to a transgression of the inviolability of religious experience (al-Tawhidl 1988,
vol. 3, 17-18). The above quote from Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi is preceded by the following
(Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 235): "Sufis give satisfaction to their [carnal] souls with suffering and struggle until [their souls] become responsive to moral refinement. How many
a soul responds to actions {a'mal - that is, religious actions prescribed by law) but turn
from moral qualities (akhldq)? The souls of servants {'ibad, a term used for those subject to
the law) are responsive to [legally prescribed] actions [since they expect a reward for performing them] but turn from moral qualities [that is, a moral status beyond the law] . The
souls of ascetics are responsive to certain moral qualities apart from others. And the souls
of Sufis are responsive to all noble moral qualities .... As for servants ('ibdd, as opposed
to the allies of God, awliyd' alldh - that is, the Sufis), they respond to [legally prescribed
actions] because they travel by the light of isldm [that is, the law] . Ascetics respond to some
moral qualities because they travel by the light of Tmdn [that is, belief defined by creedal
orthodoxy] . And Sufis, the people of closeness [that is, to God] , travel by the light of ihsdn
(kindness)."

to say that true religiosity is interior, that is, beyond "objective" norms
determined by reason or law or scripture? Again, we are not suggesting a
religiosity of disembodied mind. Sufism has been an embodied religiosity
(hence, its keen appreciation of morals) but one oriented to the inner life
no less than the outer. This raises important questions about knowledge
used for moral decision making. We cannot detail here Sufi conceptions
of knowledge but it is necessary to touch upon them for the sake of understanding more fully the Sufi moral vision that is at once potentially
universally and still specifically religious.
Sufism has been charged, as much of religiously informed morality in
Islam, with theodicy (Awn 1983), a just morality in the mind of God that
may or may not be comprehensible to humans - in other words, a phenomenon of cult potentially useful to the whims of religious and political
tyranny. Certainly all religions struggle with the sometimes contradic-
tory claims of revelation and reason but such dismissal overlooks the
Sufi insistence on mind Caql) as human organ designed for reception
of divine address. As a result, although its purpose is to engage godly
speech and not worldly ways, mind still remains mind as cognitive link
between the speech of God and its reasonable articulation in the world.18
By seeking a religiosity that goes beyond, even if not transgressing, the
law, Sufism opened the door to a sphere in which the human mind, illuminated by divine revelation, was licensed to discern what was best in a
given set of historical circumstances: the insight (basira) of the divinely
illuminated mind (a grace-nature amalgam) became agent of moral decision making - described by Rumi as "faith-filled mind" ('aql-e imam, a
Persian coupling of two Arabic terms):
Nature desires revenge on its adversary./ Mind is like an iron chain on the
carnal soul./ It comes, preventing it, restraining it./ Mind is like a policeinspector of good and bad./ The faith-filled mind {'aql-e imdnT) is like a
just police-inspector,/ the guardian and magistrate of the city of the heart
(shahr-e del) [Rumi 1940, 4: 721, translated edition 382].
The Sufi rendition of the story of the mind's journey to God extends
across the classical period of Islam, including such names as al-Muhasibi
(d. 243/857), Abu 1-Hasan al-'Amiri (d. 381/992), Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi
(d. 414/1023), and al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111), culminating in many ways

in the work of Ibn Arab! (d. 638/1240, see Chittick 1994), which will
not be treated here. The significance of this story lies in its offering a
corrective to existing scholarly analysis of Sufi morality and, perhaps
more importantly, insight into the way mysticism functions within and
18 Legally minded religious scholars, it should be said, did permit room for the ratiocinative workings of the human mind, but within the sphere of jurisprudence and not, in
principle, as arbiter of right and wrong. Other forms of Muslim religiosity, Mu'tazili and
Shl'I, did recognize mind as arbiter of good and bad, but not without heavy criticism.

contributes specifically to Islam in contrast to its role in other religious
traditions. By making of the divinely illuminated mind a regulatory

agent, if not source, of morality, Sufism effectively rescues Islam from be-
ing a cult, permitting a dialogue to take place between revealed and nonrevealed knowledge, between wisdom found in legal precedent and that
attained by philosophical reflection. This is, again, not to claim Sufism
as the only locus in Islam of such a dialogue but rather to emphasize it
as a very significant one with implications for Islam today.19
The need to construct a framework accounting for both divine address
and the mind's reception of it (see al-MaqdisI 1899, 2:74-132) found one
response in The Dignity of Mind and its Identity (al-Muhasibi 1986),

where the claim is made that mind, by which one is able to draw distinctions between benefit and harm, is not reducible to the senses (19)
but is also responsive to divine communique {bay an). All humans have
mind (23) and thus the potential to grasp God by comprehending His
revelation (24-25), making it necessary to clear the mind of all obstacles
(that is, the results of self-attachment) to its proper hearing (27-28), so
as to pave the way to an exclusive occupation with God alone by which
divine illumination is possible (30). In contrast to the juristic limitation
of mind to the role of confirming one's obligation to follow the law, alMuhasibi demonstrates that mind, led by its own nature to obedience to
God, retains its faculty of discerning moral goods beyond law - humility,
rejection of hatred, forbearance, and kindness (34-35) - as a consequence
of realizing that the only thing worth occupying oneself with is God. The
mystical state, activated by the mind's grasp of God's word, is sustained
by frequent remembrance and magnification of God's presence in the
human heart, which in the end produces an awareness of God without
restriction, as if one is eyewitness to God (36). One's life, while remaining normal in appearance (37), is radically different in attitude: "Once
grasping all that about one's Lord, poverty becomes preferable to wealth,
humility to honor, one's station in life to [the pursuit of] power in it" (42).
This affiliation of human mind and divine communique was made

without resort to a Neoplatonic framework. That came roughly a century
late with the philosopher al-'Amirl and the litterateur al-Tawhidi. Important to note is this historical precedent of Neoplatonic ideas in the service
of SunnI Islam, making al-Ghazali's Neoplatonic inclinations a century

later entirely uncontroversial (despite extraordinary scholarly resistance
to that possibility). Greek thought, as it made its way into the purview of
Islam as early as the 2nd/8th century, was adopted for different purposes.
Isma'ili theology made use of it to explain a hierarchy of existents, at the
19 See Soroush 2000, 150: "The arguments concerning the primacy of religious law,
however, presuppose the dependency of human rationality on prophetic instruction and
thus the paralysis of the collective reason in dealing with worldly facts and values."

top of which stood the Isma'ih imam as divine mediator whose authority
surpassed that of the law (see Walker 1974). The Brethren of Purity, a
4th/10th century group with Gnostic leanings, used Neoplatonic ideas
to affirm the transitory character of the sensory world (including legal
rulings applicable to it) and the permanent character of the intellectual
world (see Baffioni 1998; Netton 1980). There were still others, scholars
with mystical leanings, who used a Neoplatonic body/soul-sense/intellect
duality to defend the supremacy of a decidedly Sunni vision of law in all
its details - hence, the close intellectual association in Islam between the
mystical outlook and the legal tradition.
One example of that is al-'Amiri,20 who turned to Neoplatonic notions
to demonstrate that intellectual virtues animating the life of the mind
were only fully operable when activated by a light beyond the world of
the senses; divine communication, then, exists to enlighten the mind and
disclose to it the details of the moral life which it could not possibly attain with certainty by its own efforts (for the details of his argument,
see Heck 2006). The crux of his argument, spelled out in The Scope of
Eternity (al-'Amiri 1988), rests on the interconnection he makes between
the practice of religious duties and the refinement of intellectual virtues.
Discipline in the ways of traditional religiosity thus becomes the vehicle
for metaphysical enlightenment. This, however, is a two-way street: the
cultivation of logic leads to the refinement of the soul and recognition
that the norms of the religious community are the most effective means
by which to elevate it beyond the impurities of its worldly ways and

attachments. Religion, not mind alone, offers the blueprint for the metaphysically elevated human; this journey, however, ends in illuminating
the human mind by a light beyond the sensible world, a light by which
the human being is worthy to be called God's delegate on earth and to

carry out His will for the prosperity of the lower world and the beauty of
the upper one. The Announcement of the Merits of Islam (al-'Amiri 1967),
companion piece to the above-mentioned work, completes the philosophical defense of traditional religion by arguing that the religion best suited
to elevate the human mind is, in point of fact, Islam.
A similar argument is advanced in The Book of Delight and Convivi-
ality (al-Tawhldi 2002), where the claim is made that the metaphysical
dimension of existence (al-sakma al-ildhiyya) is available to humans
through the cultivation of the light of the mind (nilr al-'aql) and other
intellectual virtues; doing so, works to replace human nature with an angelic one (172). The language is highly reminiscent of Sufism, even if it
is not explicitly mentioned. In other words, human relation to the divine
20 It should be noted that al-'Amiri, although heavily imbued with Neoplatonic thinking,
was also highly proficient in Aristotelian categories of thinking as transmitted by the

Alexandrian school of late antiquity.

is understood mystically, as with al-'Amin, but is articulated philosophically (Neoplatonically), in contrast to al-Muhasibi: only those who free
themselves from their earthly nature can access divine reality, but this
is only realizable by fully living the way communicated by the prophets.
Partly circular, this argument echoes in other places (for example, 2325), where al-Tawhldi decries the decline of religion in his day, implicitly
referring to Sufism in his praise of those known for intimate communion
when with God and beautiful conduct when with His creatures, including mercy, clemency, and forgiveness. These are the ones, al-Tawhldi concludes in echo of al-'Amirl, worthy to be called delegates of God (khulafa'
alldh) on earth.
In short, figures such as al-'Amiri and al-Tawhldi represented an

emerging tendency to explain traditional religiosity in highly philosophical terms, the upshot of which was a metaphysics that dovetailed closely
with mystical currents in Islam. This culminated in the work of alGhazali who saw in Sufi experience a way out of doubts about religious
knowledge that the increasingly pluralistic character of cosmopolitan Is-
lam had worked to engender (see Matilal 1985). Observable across his
oeuvre (see Heck n.d.) is a concern to show that revelation resonates with
and does not militate against the human mind that receives it. Certainly,
there are conditions for such resonance but the moral payoff in the end
for al-Ghazali, in line with al-'Amirf s philosophizing and Rumf s poeticizing, is the faith-filled mind whereby moral truth is never reducible to
either religious tradition or human ratiocination alone: both must work
together to avoid tyranny.21
In the case of al-Ghazali, religio-moral action as prescribed by the legal tradition assists the human heart to surrender to something beyond
itself and thus free itself from its potentially afflictive inclinations. Once
such faith-filled clarity is achieved, however, first principles of morality as conveyed by Greek philosophy can come into play in determining
good and bad- principles which al-Ghazali equates in his Revivification
of the Religious Sciences with the moral character of Muhammad who
had been sent to fulfill the moral life (al-Ghazall 1995, 8): since it is only
by goodness that one can approach the presence of God (11), anyone who
improves your moral character improves your Sufism, making the infidel
21 See Fakhry 1991: ". . .he [al-Ghazali] is emphatic that it is through the conjunction
of reason and revelation {al-'aql wa-l-shar') that the moral perfection of 'moderation' is
achieved. Note also that an important predecessor to al-Ghazali, the legal scholar with
Sufi inclinations, al-Raghib al-Isfahanl (fl. 5th/llth century) emphasized both philosophy
and law, stressing the preeminence of reason (179) in moral decision-making. See ibid., 181:
". . .[al- Isfahan!] observes that some theologians have contended that justice and injustice
can only be known through revelation, whereas others have asserted that they can be
known through reason prior to revelation
and revelation . . . coalesce in the knowledge of eternal tr

with good character preferable company to the ill-natured believer (14).
Only Muhammad, of course, attained perfection of moral equilibrium:
The fundamental noble traits of character are therefore these four virtues,
namely wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice; and all other traits constitute branches of these things. A perfectly just equilibrium in these four
has been attained by no one but the Messenger of God (God's peace and
blessing upon him), while others are of divergent degrees of closeness to
them. Thus one is close to God the Exalted in proportion to his closeness
to the Messenger of God (God's peace and blessing upon him). Those who
combine within themselves all of these traits are worthy to be powerful
rulers among humans whom all creatures obey and follow in their deeds
[22].
The goal, he continues in language reminiscent of Aristotle's

Nicomachean Ethics, is not to root out bad qualities that fail to submit
to legal injunctions but to restore their balance and moderation, which
is the middle point between excess and defect (al-Ghazall 1995, 27-28).
It is not violation of the law that is a problem, although that is assumed
but "the extreme of any matter which is reprehensible." There are two
ways to restore moral equilibrium:
One is through divine grace and completeness of human identity (kamdl
al-fitra), whereby a human is born and created with a sound mind and a
kind character and is preserved from the appetitive and irascible faculties,
which are in that person moderate and submissive to mind and law. Thus
does one become learned without instruction and disciplined without undergoing discipline, as Jesus the son of Mary and John the son of Zachariah
and all the other prophets
ties through spiritual struggle and exercise

qualities is to cut the love of the world away
therein the love of God the Exalted, so that o
as meeting God. Such a person will expend w
lead to God. Anyone whose heart inclines to
is afflicted by a disease in proportion to this inclination
beyond all doubt that good morals may be acqu

by imitating right away the actions which res
that they may ultimately become part of one'
wonders of the relation between heart and bod
body: the effect of every attribute which appe
to the members, so that they move in conform
performed by the members has an effect whi
heart [33-35].
In short, performing actions in conformity to the will of God produces

an inner freedom of heart, a self-detachment, which in turn permits a
greater desire to imitate the life of the Prophet as the one figure who,

as closest to God, embodied His will for creation. What we have with
al-Ghazall's oeuvre is essentially a greatly expanded and much more
explicitly Sufi reformulation of al-'Amiri's metaphysical argument: religious action as prescribed by the revealed law paves the way for mystical
detachment, and revelation, as grasped by the mind, guides one to a godly
character, reflected in one's love of God, which, however, is to be regulated, if necessary, by recourse to Aristotelian equilibrium. It should thus
not surprise us that so much of al-Ghazali's work - above all his magnum
opus, The Revivification of the Religious Sciences - aims to broaden the
moral scope of Islam as defined by the law through a coordination of the
inner dimensions of morality with the outer ones. Mystical at its core,
his argument begins with confidence in the mind's ability to choose godliness and to bridge the gap between divine potency and human agency,
defining epistemic subject - not legal or theological objectivity - as the
domain in which religious (that is, religio-moral) knowledge was to be

finally realized.
3. Popularization of the Moral Vision of Sufism

Such sophisticated reflection on the human appropriation of moral
knowledge was popularized and spread through (1) Sufi manuals, which
made great use of anecdotal stories and adages to convey moral wisdom,
and (2) legendary tales incorporated into Sufi hagiographical literature
and poetry.
It is first worth noting that the compilers of Sufi manuals were entirely aware of the different ranks of religiosity in Islam and emphasized that Sufism, in light of its attention to the inner life (al-bdtin),
surpassed the legal and theological views limiting religiosity to the

outer life (al-dhdhir), with corresponding moral implications.22 Al-Sarraj
(d. 387/988) claimed that religious action and knowledge are wanting if
unaccompanied by sincerity and that most religious specialists, while

able to recognize the truths of religion, fail to experience them, since
theirs is a religiosity limited to the outer life, whereas only the Sufi,
whose inner motivations have been examined and purified, can assume
the moral character of the prophet Muhammad. Sufis, then, were themselves aware that the mystical experience adds something to conventional
morality. In the passage from al-Sarraj (quoted below), particularly noteworthy is the connection made between Islamic revelation, which informs
the life of Sufi adepts via their particular liturgical practice (in Arabic,
22 For example, a Sufi manual compiled by Yahya Bakharzi (d. 776/1336), speaks of
three levels of ethics (Waley 1999, 305), in order of rank: the exoteric pursued by worldly
minded people, the religious pursued by the ascetically minded, and the esoteric pursued
by the mystically minded.

dhikr or sama') and the superior noble qualities that result from this
intimate communion with word of God as exemplified in the life of His
prophet. In other words, the Sufi way (tariqa) enables a ritual identification with and embodiment (or assumption) of moral knowledge (the
virtues of the Prophet) believed not only to embrace but also to go beyond the rules and regulations of the law and, indeed, to be based upon
privileged (that is, experiential) access to the knowledge of God:
. . . from among the classes of the people of knowledge the Sufis enjoy a
distinct place for their active response to the recited verses of the book
of God the Exalted and narrated reports of [the life of] the messenger of
God (God's peace and blessing upon him) . . . that summon to noble moral
qualities (makdrim al-akhldq) and encourage [aspiration to] the heights

of mystical states and virtuous action, informing us of the high stations
and elevated positions occupied by a specific group of the believers [that is,
the Sufis] . . . and that is the ethical behavior of the messenger (God's peace
and blessing upon him) and one of his moral qualities, as he [the Prophet]
said: "It is God who has given me an ethical formation and perfected my
conduct." As God said to the Prophet (Q 68:4): "Indeed you are of great
moral character." That is found in the writings of the religious scholars
and jurists but they do not understand it, nor is it something they can
derive, as they do in the other religious sciences. Apart from Sufis, none
from among those who possess knowledge and concern themselves with just
rectitude (qist ) share in [understanding] that [statement by God] , except to
acknowledge it and believe it to be true [that is, since these moral qualities
of the prophet are metalegal and metatheological and therefore outside
the scope of the exoterically definable) . . . such as the divine realities of
repentance (haqd'iq al-tawba) . . . intricacies of piety . . . [mystical] ranks of
those who have placed their trust entirely [in God] , stations of those who are
satisfied [with God alone], degrees of patience, and, similarly. . .concern

[that is, for the consequences and not only definable status of one's actions] ,
humbleness [before God], fear and hope [which together indicate a constant
awareness of God] , longing [for God] , contemplation [of God's presence] ,
placing oneself [in God's hands] , and [inner] tranquility, mystical certainty,
and contentment [al-Sarraj, 1914, 13-14].
What comes across most strongly in the Sufi manuals is the consensus that the morality of Islam culminates in kindness (ihsdn) toward
others, regardless of outward status, rank or association, resulting in

an altruistic attitude toward other creatures, even one's enemies, without, however, a resulting transgression of legal and theological commitments.23 Allusion to the distinction between the morality of the outer life
23 This is not to suggest an unreasoned or haphazard kindness. See al-Qushayri 2001,
96: "The greedy have anger towards those without offense and avarice for that which they
do not possess. Take care not to wish for affection from those who envy you, for they will
not accept your kindness."

(justice) and that of the inner life (kindness) is made in what is perhaps
the most widely respected manual of Sufism, composed by al-Qushayrl
(d. 465/1073) who, in commenting on Q 31:20, says:
The outer aims to straighten moral character [that is, a moral range limited
to the prevention of behavior at odds with the law] . The inner aims to purify
moral character [that is, a moral range not limited to the prevention of
antinomian behavior and productive of a good not circumscribed by law]
[al-Qushayri 2001, 159].
The result of this interiorly based morality is summarized in another
widely popular manual (Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 245): "Getting
along with all folk, children, neighbors, friends, all people entirely, constitutes the moral character of Sufism, for by enduring insult and injury, the
essence of the soul is made manifest." In illustration of self-detachment
and the moral fruit it can bear (and also to aggrandize the hagiographical stature of his sheikh), the following anecdotal story is narrated by
the same manual:
I was with our sheikh [Abu 1-NajIb-that is, his uncle] on his journey to
Damascus when one of the villagers sent food to him in the presence of the
Crusader captives who were in chains. The table was set and the captives
were to wait until he finished but he said to a servant: "Fetch the captives
so that they might sit at the table with the Sufi brethren." He brought
them and seated them at the table in a single row. The sheikh got up from
his rug [a sign of his spiritual authority], walked over to them and sat with
them as if one among them. He ate and they ate, and it was made manifest
to us on his face the humility before God that was at work within him, the
contrition and detachment from pride over them on account of his faith,
knowledge, and action [Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 241].
Even at this time this type of thinking was widely known. Long before
Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi set pen to paper, Sufism had already specified a term to designate this other-centered kindness: altruistic preference {Tthdr), as described in an anonymous manual on Sufism from the
4th/10th century:
As for the moral qualities of the Sufis: kindly, soft-spoken, peaceable, of
cheerful countenance and joyful appearance, loving the poor and showing an altruistic preference for them, even if they [that is, the Sufis] are
in great difficulty and privation, as God the Mighty and Majestic said
(Q 59:9): "They prefer others over themselves even if privation is their

lot." Altruistic preference {Tthdr) constitutes one of the moral qualities
of the messenger of God (God's peace and blessing upon him), the mem-
bers of his family and his companions (may God be pleased with them
all). They devoted themselves to his character, since he (God's peace and
blessing upon him) was the best of people in moral character, as God the
Mighty and Majestic said [to Muhammad, Q 68:4]: "Indeed you are of great

character." And Sufis imitate the Prophet (God's peace and blessing upon
him) in everything, even his character, for it is said that Sufism is kindness. There are signs of the moral character that belongs to Sufis, as he
(God's peace and blessing upon him) said: "Man truly outstrips by his kindness the rank of those who fast and pray [that is, other-centered kindness
has a moral status superior to action prescribed by law]." Those who fast
and pray do so only for themselves [that is, to assure their own standing before God]. Kindness extends beyond that to the other (ild l-ghayr),
for it is by it [that is, other-centered kindness] that the believer is made
to rejoice and the heart of every Muslim is gladdened. It is said that the
end of Sufism is kindness: By kindness, the infidel comes to desire Islam,
the ignorant are swayed from their ignorance, God comes to be beloved by
His creatures, charity and [social] harmony are achieved, and all good is
realized . . . [Radtke 1991, 44-45].
To be sure, the poor mentioned in the above passage may refer not to all
needy creatures but to other members of one's Sufi group, who are often
designated poor ifaqir) for their renunciation of all save God. In a certain
sense, the other-centered morality of Sufism is primarily meant for one's
Sufi confreres, in whose companionship one learns kindness and comes
to embody it. It is here that one sees the overlap between moral character
and communal etiquette in Sufism. Life within a Sufi group is explicitly
described in terms of companionship (suhba) and service (khidma); this,
however, has moral ramifications beyond the parameters of the Sufi confraternity. That is, surrender to the way of the Sufi group to which one be-
longs, including the demands of companioning and serving its members

and especially its master, cultivates in Sufi associates and adepts alike an
altruistic preference for others in general, as epitomized in yet another
Sufi manual: "One is to prefer others over oneself with an altruism the
grace of which is [meant] for others" (al-Kalabadhi [d. 380/990] 2001, 62).
Significant, then, is the moral formation one undergoes in the fraternal
life of a Sufi group, where the behavior expected of its members works
to foster self-detachment, an important criterion, as discussed above, for
leading a life animated not by one's own worldly affairs and concerns but
by God and God alone: this close connection between self-detachment and
the mystical life is underlined in a saying attributed to a proto-Sufi, alFudayl b. 'Iyad (d. 187/803), who, when asked about humility, responded:
"Deferring to divine truth (or the divine reality), being led by it, accepting it from those who speak it and from those from whom you hear it Whoever gives a value to himself has no portion in humility" (Abu Hafs
al-Suhrawardl 1973, 240).
Certainly, this surrender to a Sufi group and its ways is open to

abuse - not to mention spiritual cronyism but it is fair to say that the
close bonding, aesthetic sensibility, and mutual love nurtured within a
Sufi group fosters a Sufi awareness of the human being primarily as

object of divine friendship and not divine command, of religiosity primarily as relation and not simply norm. It is this contribution of the
mystical life, specifically in its communal form, that nurtures a deeper
embodiment not only of conventional morality as defined by the religious heritage (that is, the outer) but also of the unconventional (hypernomian) morality disclosed by the true reality of divine presence (that
is, the inner).
Such themes predominate in what is considered to be the most important manual on Sufism, al-Qushayrf s (d. 465/1073) Letter on the Science
of Sufism (part of the curriculum, for example, at al-Azhar in Cairo

and immensely popular in general). Consisting of anecdotal stories and
pithy sayings attributed to an array of pious figures of early Islam, alQushayri's work is significant for its demonstration of the orthodoxy of
Sufism.24 The author's introductory remarks claim that the goal of the
work is correcting the antinomian tendencies that have come to be associated with Sufi groups and the disdain with which they have come to
view religious duties prescribed by the divine law. It was a time of great
religious ferment in Islam in general (as one could say about today), a
ferment caused in no small part by doubts about the value of specifically
Islamic norms and customs vis-a-vis those of other religious traditions
(see Heck 2006), and this was no less historically true in the case of
Sufism.25
This manual proceeds along the various stages and stations of the
Sufi way toward a goal of negating distinction between believer and God
(intifd' al-mubdyana; al-Qushayri 2001, 217), a state closely linked to an
attitude of affection toward others (widdd), even to the point of blinding
one to their faults (194).26 True freedom (sarih al-hurriyya 139) - that
24 For insightful analysis of Sufi manuals composed during the 5th-6th/llth-12th centuries, see Mojaddedi 2001.
25 See al-Maqdisi 1899, vol. 5, 148, on Sufism as he observed it in the 4th/10th century:
"To sum up their affair: They do not aspire to a known way [of worship] nor a comprehensible creed because their religious professions involves interior movements and images
(yadinuna bi-l-khawdtir wa-l-makhd'U), and they shift from one opinion to another. Among
them are those who believe in divine incarnation (hulill). I heard one of them claim that
He [that is, God] dwelt amidst the sides of beardless youth. Among them are those who
believe in libertinism and disregard [of religious duties] (al-ibdha wa-l-ihmdl) and are not
moved by the censure of those who reprimand them. Among them are those who believe in
absolution i'udhr), which means that infidels (kuffdr) are absolved of their infidelity and
refusal to believe since [truth] has not been made manifest to them but remains hidden
from them. Among them are those who say that God does not punish anyone and does not
concern Himself with His creation [but for their prayer, see Q 25:77 - that is, He is interested not in punishing them but in responding to their prayer]. Among them are those
who completely deny the divine attributes and are committed to pure heresy. They pursue
eating, drinking, listening to music, and the whims of the carnal soul."
26 See Waley 1999, 305, who notes the emphasis in Bakharzi's manual of Sufism that
". . .[a] virtue essential to the Sufi seeker is that of speaking only well of people."

is, freedom from the worldly ambitions of the carnal soul - engenders
not only a profound sense of contentment or conviction (qand'a) but also
humility (tawddu') toward all as the fruit of a love (mahabba) of God
exclusive of oneself.27 Self-detachment, again, demands the absence of
self-concern, which is maintainable only by putting others first in an
attitude of service: "Those who see a value in themselves have not fully
tasted the service of freedom" (90). These words are most likely meant to
signify service within the Sufi group and especially obedience in service
to the directives of its sheikh but the idea of detachment from all but
God (185) does have moral consequences of universal proportion: "If the
servant [of God] has entirely mastered the state of kindness but harms
one of his chickens, he cannot be ranked among those who are kind"28
(157).
Indeed, even those guilty of the cardinal sin in Islam - polytheism are to be viewed with such a merciful attitude, as exemplified in a statement attributed to the Prophet, who, when asked to implore God to attack the polytheists, said: "I have been sent as a mercy not a torment"
(160). This universal kindness, which should not be taken as religious
relativism,29 was considered to be closely connected to the Sufi conception of humility as anecdotally described in a report related elsewhere:
"Whoever knows the hidden depths of his soul does not covet prestige
and honor and travels the path of humility. He does not quarrel with
those who criticize him and is grateful to God for those who commend
him
ing all whom you encounter as better than y

1973, 240).
One can note two dimensions to the universal character of Sufi moral-
ity as propounded by al-Qushayri: one is ascetical detachment, especially

self-detachment since the self is the greatest barrier between believer
and God (al-Qushayri 2001, 93); and the other is affection or love. The
27 There has been a debate in Sufism over the idea of God loving humans as they did
Him. Some, including al-Qushayri, felt it was going too far to attribute to God a love for
humans of the kind humans have for Him, since it would violate His transcendence (see
Abrahamov 2003, 33-34).
28 See Waley 1999, 306, who summarizes the moral vision of Bakharzi's manual of Sufism in the following terms: "Humility, good fellowship, hospitality and service to all kinds
of people are essentials according to Yahya Bakharzl." Such virtues are modeled in the behavior of the great Sufi masters, as Waley notes in quoting directly from Bakharzi's manual
(ibid., 306): "Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 618/1221, eponymous founder of the Kubrawiyya confraternity), God's greetings upon him, used to put out a tray upon which he would collect
the clothes of travelers (or guests: musdfirdn), and would wash them with his own blessed
hands."
29 See, for example, al-Ghorab 1993, who argues that Ibn 'Arabi, while promoting a
Sufism that saw all creation (and even non-Muslim forms of belief) as witnessing the
existence of God as singular reality, was clear in maintaining that such a view of existence
was possible only through Islam.
self is emptied of its worldliness only to be filled by a revealed grace

disclosed in the recited verses of the Qur'an (echoes of which resounds in
litanies specific to Sufi liturgy) and exemplified in the life of the Prophet
(whose spiritually elevated status is also a focus of Sufi liturgy).30 The
first, ascetical self-detachment, results in indifference to all things, an
attitude where rock and gold are viewed without distinction (140), and
in a complete satisfaction with what one has (99; see further ibid., 90
where this satisfaction is identified as freedom). This indifference to all
things, engendered by the ego-soul's annihilation, becomes - upon the

self s revivification by revelation - an affection for all regardless of status or association, "when one finds no difference in eating with friend or
infidel" (46). In other words, abandonment of self does not lead to moral
apathy or withdrawal from society but constitutes the condition for a
truly moral relation with others without interest in personal comfort or
gain or demand for reciprocation.
The demand for reciprocation, which stands at the heart of justice (including, one could argue, the desire for revenge), is transcended by the
Sufism described by al-Qushayri. It is not only a question of universal

affection but also patient reception of the suffering inflicted by others -
a willingness to overlook insult and injury: "Kindness is patiently responding to reprehensible behavior with kind behavior" (al-Qushayri
2001, 159). It is in that sense that Sufism becomes an agent for absorbing evil and thereby eliminating it from the cycle of retribution and
reciprocation, as illustrated by al-Qushayri in a story about a Muslim
tailor and his Zoroastrian client who would pay his bills with counterfeit
dirham:
The tailor would take it [without remark] . One day, when he had business
away from his shop, the Zoroastrian came and paid counterfeit dirham to
his assistant, who would not accept it; and so the Zoroastrian paid sound
dirham. When the tailor returned, he said to his assistant: "Where is the
shirt of the Zoroastrian?" When the assistant told him what had happened,
he said: "What evil you have done. He has been treating me like that for
some time, and I've borne it patiently, casting the counterfeit money in a
well, lest another be harmed by it" [159].
Such wisdom - "The mark of kindliness is putting a stop to trouble by

putting up with it" - is the fruit of a self whose worldly interests have
been abandoned as illusion: "The Sufi is he who judges his blood licit [that
is, to be taken with impunity] and his possessions to be plundered without
[the need to ask] permission"31 (al-Qushayri 2001, 157). In other words,
30 Mystical experience can, of course, be attained without ascetical preparation.
01 See Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 250: The Sufis are those who see their blood shed
with impunity and their possessions to be ownerless [lit. licit for all to take] ...

the Sufi's lack of regard for himself and all that is worldly allows him
to transform a potential curse into an actual blessing, as suggested in a
story illustrating the moral character of Qays b. 'Asim al-Minqari: "Once,
when sitting in his house, a female servant passed with a hot skewer,
which dropped from her hand and fell on one of his sons, who died. She
was bewildered but he said: 'Do not be afraid. You are free for the sake
[lit. face] of God the Exalted"' (157). The manumission in response to the
unintended death of his son is meant not only to underscore mystical
detachment but to suggest the moral possibilities at hand when bad
things happen. In other words, the manumission represents not merely
a legal act which frees the servant from the bondage of physical slavery
but also an act of absolution, which both guarantees a more lenient legal
ruling for her unintended act of homicide and, more significantly, orients
her toward God as source of all life:32 mystical insight resulting in moral
fruit.
The moral vision of Sufism was further elaborated in hagiographical

tales, a model for imitation by both Sufi disciples and a more general
audience. In the first of two examples to be given here, it is narrated
(al-Munawwar 1992, 216-18) that one of the pioneers of institutional
Sufism, Abu Sa'id b. Abi 1-Khayr (d. 449/1049), was confronted one day
by an arrogant ascetic who judged the Sufi parties of Abu Sa'id and
his disciples to be a mockery of true religion. This ascetic, however, was
unaware of the many years of austerity that had preceded Abu Sa'id's
entry into the mystical life, the joys of which he now witnessed in song
and dance and communal friendship as well as prayer. The ascetic sought
to humble Abu Sa'id by challenging him to a 40-day fast. The ascetic

fasted according to accepted norms, which allows a certain amount of
daily food but Abu Sa'id abstained from food entirely, and yet - as the
fast proceeded - looked more and more fit and rotund, sang and danced
joyfully with his disciples and commanded them to feast in his sight. The
ascetic became so enfeebled that he could no longer rise to perform even
the prescribed prayers (to say nothing of supererogatory ones), which
built upon three characteristics: devotion to poverty and neediness; realizing sacrifice and
altruistic preference; and abandonment of resistance and choice."
32 For a story of Sufi indifference even to death of children, see Rumi 1940, vol. 3, 471-72
(trans. 101-02). Such a story is not to suggest a callous or uncaring attitude on the part of
Sufis toward their children, but a deeper awareness that all things, including children, are
part of a singular divine reality, regardless of physical death, which, for the mystic, is not a
separation - in the words of the Sufi sheikh to his wife (trans. 102): "Whether they are all
dead or living, when are they absent and hid from the eye of the heart?/ Inasmuch as I see
them distinct before me, for what reason should I rend my face as thou doest?/ Although
they are outside of Time's revolution, they are with me and playing around me./ Weeping
is caused by severance or by parting; I am united with my dear ones and embracing them./
(Other) people see them (their dear ones) in sleep; I see them plainly in (my) waking state."

Abu Sa'id continued to perform in accordance with the law. Finally, the
ascetic admitted defeat and confessed his arrogance.
The story does not end there. Abu Sa'id declared that since he had
agreed to the ascetic's challenge (fasting for 40 days with permission
to use the toilet), the ascetic must now agree to his: eating for 40 days
without permission to use the toilet. Needless to say, Abu Sa'id consumed
all sorts of savory food for 40 days without using the toilet, and the
ascetic - quickly unable to endure the test - renounced his former ways
and placed himself at the service of the Sufi master.
Hagiographical agenda notwithstanding, the point is clear: the reformulation of moral judgment via mystical awareness, which, as presented here in literary form, refuses to hold in disdain or even rebuke
the arrogant ascetic - the possible outcome if the story were limited to
the fasting contest. Rather, the mystical awareness made manifest in

the life of Abu Sa'id works to transform the ascetic's heart by a playful
inversion of accepted attitudes about religion, epitomized in the eating
contest. The ascetic acquired only arrogance from his asceticism, a sign
of attachment to his own sincerity (again, the wolf in sheep's clothing
for Sufism), whereas Abu Sa'id, the mystical comedian, heals the arrogance of the ascetic by helping him to see a truth beyond the law,
namely humble service of others who manifest that divine truth. Rebuk-
ing the other for his or her moral waywardness or lack of sociomoral
politesse is the goal of ordinary moral standards (what one should or
should not do according to recognized sociolegal norms), while inner
transformation of the wayward is the goal of extraordinary morality -
what is beyond "should" and "should not" for the sake of a relation
that can endure all and thus becomes itself the mechanism of moral
conversion. The Sufi is not merely a servant i'abd) to the commands

and prohibitions (awdmir wa-nawdhi, that is, fard'id) of God, but also
an ally (wall) in communion with God through a relation animated by
a spirituality of supererogatory prayer (nawdfil) beyond what the law
prescribes.
A second example comes from the pen of Attar and speaks of antino-
mian action in the service of moral truth, namely the fostering of harmo-
nious relations beyond the demands of a legally defined justice (Attar

1984, 57-75). In his widely popular mystical epic, The Conference of the
Birds, Attar tells the tale of a piety-minded sheikh residing in Mecca

and depicted as the leading religious scholar of his day and master of
the law and all the religious sciences. Religious sincerity circumscribed
by the normative tradition, however, does not leave him satisfied. He is
troubled by a dream in which he sees himself in Constantinople bowing
to a Christian idol. Unable to rid himself of this dream, he sets off for the
Byzantine capital, where he encounters a Christian girl with a beauty

as blinding as the sun.33 His outward commitment to Islam is no match
and he converts to Christianity and becomes a devoted disciple of this
Christian girl.
The poet attributes this transformation to love - that is, a sincere devotion to the dictates of the heart rather than those of the law. Despite
the best efforts of his disciples to bring their sheikh to his senses, he asks
them whether sincere blasphemy is not preferable to insincere piety; and
with such rhetoric he sets out to renounce all for a round-the-clock vigil at
the girl's door. The girl, disdainful of the old sheikh, mocks his sincerity
by commanding him to perform four acts: burn the Qur'an, drink wine,
deny his faith, and prostrate before idols. He agrees to it, even if antinomian, for the sake of his newly found sincerity, as the poet says: "She
alone/ lived in his heart, all other thoughts had flown" (65). Thus does he
mistakenly replace one attachment for another, attachment to law (the
outer) with attachment to love (the inner). The girl continues to spurn
him and order him to work as her swineherd for a year, leading the poet
to comment: "This reverend sheikh kept swine - but who does not/ keep
something swinish in nature's plot?/ Do not imagine only he could fall;/
This hidden danger lurks within us all,/ rearing its bestial head when
we begin/ to tread salvation's path - if you think sin/ has no place in your
nature, you can stay/ content at home; you are excused the Way" (68).
The critique of sincerity is thus aimed at both nomian and antinomian behavior claiming to be sincerely undertaken. The Christian girl
represents the god of the antinomian, who awards a paramount status to
union with divine lover while disregarding the reality of the world. The
warning is clear, a warning with relevance today when religion continues
to be used to conceal or explain away moral transgression on the part of
political and religious leaders. Sufism, then, has two sides: intoxicated
union with beloved, and sober return to created reality. While the intoxicated side can see antinomian behavior as an end in itself, the sober
side recognizes such behavior as merely temporary and only useful as a
foil against which to draw out the hypernomian possibilities of Sufism
in which moral action beyond justice - again, a loving kindness - is the
33 A reference to the light of God experienced as intoxicating union rather than a sober
engagement with created reality (see below). The intoxication of the mystical union rapture - is ultimately judged self-indulgent and spiritually immature. This state is understood by al-Ghazali as a deceptive veil, which keeps one from true mysticism (see alGhazali 1998, 52). In other words, those in a state of rapture lose control of both sense
(hiss) and mind Caql), the very things necessary for the moral life as established by God
and heard and discerned by human beings. Those who remain in rapture submit not to
God and His ways but to the whims of their own spiritual pleasure, failing to see that the
final goal is not mystical rapture but orientation to God regardless of circumstances or the
state of one's soul.
result, not moral transgression. The goal is not rebellion against the
tradition but its reformulation in light of a higher moral vision.
The truth of the matter comes out when the sheikh's disciples despair
of saving him and return to Mecca to consult with a close companion of the
sheikh, most likely a reference to God. This companion accuses them of
abandoning the sheikh, their friend: "Fair-weather friends who run when
great men fall./ He put on Christian garments - so should you; / He took
their faith - what else had you to do?/ This was no friendship, to forsake
your friend, to promise your support and at the end/ abandon him - this
was sheer treachery./ Friend follows friend to hell and blasphemy./ When
sorrows come, a man's true friends are found" (70). The startling message
here is that the moral good is based exclusively on neither law nor love.
The good cannot be limited to doing the good, however defined but is
fundamentally a matter of living with others, such that one is willing to
endure all, even the evil others can sometimes beget, for the sake of a
relation of commitment to the other. Moral truth lies fundamentally in
a sustained relation with others no less than with God.
Confessing their error, the sheikh's disciples undertake acts of penance

to atone for their sinfulness. They too, no less than their sheikh, had been
guilty of self-commitment, remaining tied to the tug of the carnal soul
that blocks the manifestation of the divine reality within. The poet is
thus making the point that the anxieties we have about our existence
cannot be adequately resolved in a misdirected mysticism by which one
allegedly conquers such anxieties by claiming a mystical knowledge that
goes beyond recognized sociomoral norms and justifies the subjection of
others to one's own needs and inclinations. Rather, as 'Attar suggests,

mysticism can play a role in putting a stop to the perturbations that
these anxieties bring about in the soul by advancing the more accurate
recognition that there is actually nothing at the core of one's heart to
be perturbed, a recognition brought about and borne out by an altruistic orientation of oneself to others rather than self. And so, the acts of
penance performed by the sheikh's disciples have their effect, for upon
returning to their sheikh, they find in their midst "the Prophet, lovely
as the moon,/ whose face, Truth's shadow, was the sun at noon" (71).
It is thus the Prophet, again, who acts as gateway to true relation

with God. One may not be able to gaze directly into the divine light
of the sun - that is, intoxicated union with God and a resultant moral
blindness - but can look at its revealed reflection in the moon. It is in
encountering the Prophet - who for Sufis lives on after his death in a
transformed existence accessible to the faithful (see Meier 1999) - that
one's heart is kindled with a desire to be, like him, close to God and
the moral embodiment of His word.34 It is the Prophet who as locus of
34 It is often said in Sufi works that the Qur'an constitutes the Prophet's moral qualities
(see, for example, Waley 1999, 305 and Abu Najlb al-Suhrawardl 1977, 19).

revelation removes, or more accurately mediates, the barrier between
humanity and God, as the poet has him say: "I have loosed the chain/
which bound your sheikh - your prayer is answered, go./ Thick clouds
of dust have been allowed to blow/ between his sight and Truth - these
clouds have gone;/ 1 did not leave him to endure alone" (71).
The disciples thereupon meet their sheikh, now cured of his error but
ashamed of his action. His disciples, however, wonder at the good that can
come from evil: "That out of darkness you've been safely led;/ God who
can turn the day to darkest night/ can turn back sin to pure repentant
light./ He kindles a repentant spark, the flame/ burns all our sins and
all sin's burning shame" (73). Forgiveness by God is here depicted as the
essential element of self-knowledge, and this experience of forgiveness
is productive of further hypernomian good whereby forgiveness of one's
enemy - not self-righteous conquest of him or self-glorifying martyrdom
at his hands - becomes the mystically appropriate means of dealing with
the source of one's shame. In this case, the divine forgiveness that had
been bestowed upon the sheikh is extended to the Christian girl. In a

dream in which she is reproached for her wily ways and exhorted to
model her life after that of the sheikh, her erstwhile victim, she awakens
with a new desire to live a life no longer spent destroying but befriending
the other.
She too repents and seeks forgiveness. The sheikh, listening now to
neither law nor love exclusively but the dynamic of divine friendship,
goes forth, to the dismay of his disciples, to comfort her. His ability to
embrace the source of his shame with kindness demonstrates that his
love for her had not been false; it is now, however, seen as it is truly meant
to be, not a focus of self-gratifying intoxication but other-centered service:
"She woke, and seeing tears like rain in spring/ knew he'd kept faith
through everything" (74). She beseeches him to teach her the mysteries
of Islam and, upon hearing them, is so overwhelmed by the beauty and
majesty of God that she gives up the ghost out of an intensely felt desire
to be with the divine companion. The tale ends with a precis of its main
point: "Whoever knows love's path is soon aware/ that stories such as this
are far from rare./ All things are possible, and you may meet/ despair,
forgiveness, certainty, deceit./ The Self ignores the secrets of the Way, /the
Mysteries no mortal speech can say./ Assurance whispers in the heart's

dark core, / Not in the muddied Self- a bitter war/ must wage between
these two. Turn now and mourn/ that your existence is so torn" (75).
4. Conclusions
What import does all of this have for today? First, it is importan
to recognize that Sufism has played an integral role in the moral li
of Muslim society as a hypernomian force, seeking ethical meaning
shari'a beyond a simple implementation of its legal rulings. Sufism

then, both supplement and challenge to a religiosity reduced to revealed
texts, religio-moral knowledge which is useless if not embodied beyond
texts in the inner workings of the human soul: the divinely illuminated
mind. That is, a religio-spiritual awareness that seeks to come to express
more fully the truth of reality to which God is present.
For this reason, the Sufi point of view has the potential to make significant contributions to reflection on Islam today as part of an international order with principles and standards that constitute an important
reference point for the legal and ethical teachings of Islam itself. This is
nothing new. While guilty at times of excessive concern for their own institutional interests, Sufi groups have functioned fruitfully as agents of
"civil society" in Muslim majority countries, in the face of both authoritar-
ian states with secularizing ideologies and fundamentalist movements

that wish to reduce the moral vision of the nation to scriptural and legal
formulae. Sufism is playing this role, however imperfectly, in places as
diverse as Senegal (Villalon 1995) and Syria (Pinto n.d.). Should it surprise us that the first democratically elected leader of Indonesia, 'Abd
al-Rahman Wahid, was a Muslim leader with Sufi origins? Or that the
Islamic party now in power in Turkey, a strong advocate of EU membership, has links to the teachings of the Naqshbandi group? Or that Sufi
groups in Sudan, Iran, and Pakistan, while far from incorruptible, have
offered a soundly Islamic alternative to the Islamism in power in those
countries.35
If one can refer to the Islamist ascendancy of the last century as a reformation, then Sufism holds the key to a counterreformation in Islam.
This is not to suggest that the Sufism of the past will return. The Muslim community, including its Sufi members, have decided that the Sufism
of today will be decidedly modern in its outlook, shorn in large part of
the hierarchical rigidity and spectacular thaumaturgy by which it was
known in the past, while still, however, preserving its spiritual view of
the world. A modern Sufism, as it is emerging, is technologically practical and even economically savvy but also very attentive in its instruction to the inner life, to the refinement of the soul. Moreover, true to its
own tradition (and in response to the fundamentalist challenge), modern
Sufism maintains its affection for Islamic law. The two have always gone
together.
And yet, the Sufi view of revealed law, as we have seen, does not hold
the implementation of its detailed rulings as the final good but is willing
to look beyond it to a larger reality to which it points, divine to be sure
but also human, that is, the address of God understood by the human
35 For the political role played by Sufism, see P.L. Heck (ed.), Sufism and Politics,
forthcoming as an issue of Princeton Papers. Interdisciplinary Journal of Middle Eastern
Studies.

mind. It is in that sense that Sufism gives to Islam a means of embracing
a godly universality, human and cosmic, without threatening the communal framework of Islam. All religions today (and, for that matter,
secularly defined traditions) face the question of being with others without surrendering their own identity-shaping principles and particularities. Sufism is a very significant Muslim way of coordinating a universal
vision of moral life with a particular one, an apparent contradiction with
potentially enormous implications for interaction and dialogue between
the law of Islam and the law of all nations.
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Mysticism As Morality: The Case of Sufism

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Journal of Religious Ethics, Inc

Blackwell Publishing Ltd

Sufism - spiritual practice, intellectual discipline, literary tradition, and

key words: Islam, morality, mysticism, skepticism, Sufism

THIS ARTICLE CONSIDERS THE MORAL POSSIBILITIES of mystical insight.

(whether secular or religious in orientation); after all, is there anyone

254 Journal of Religious Ethics

That Sufism has a particular moral vision has been suggested in

studies of individual Sufi masters (for example, Bowering 1984; Chittick

Sufism has played a pervasive and unparalleled role in shaping

to higher echelons, whether social or religious (Lewisohn 1999b notes

ular consumption (for example, al-Samarra'I 2000; Fatima 2001). It is

Mysticism as Morality 255

protected status awarded to non-Muslims under Islamic rule, the legal

ness to others. This is not to suggest that Muslim society - no less or

speak to the true reality (haqiqa) beyond outward appearances, which

256 Journal of Religious Ethics

The legal and mystical traditions of Islam - shari'a and sufiyya,

on divine unity, have criticized legalistic religiosity as an obstacle to

practices with qur'anic language and outlook (Massignon 1922; Nwyia

Islam, is viewed by religio-legal specialists as divine command (amr)

supplanted by the passions of the heart as moral guide but rather a

difference between mystical and political antinomianism in medieval

bring to fulfillment noble traits of character." . . . and since it is impossible

Mysticism as Morality 257

ble morality only by the companionship of

Muslims [lit. believers] and non-Muslims [lit.

Such words, of course, can never be shorn of a social context in

258 Journal of Religious Ethics

the particular mercy [that is, limited in some w

at all if action is to have any moral worth; ascetical self-renunciation

ambitious of nothing save His cause.

Mysticism as Morality 259

and (2) perfected by progressively more advanced spiritual states and

Annihilation in God as singular reality is not to claim an illusory

11 It should be emphasized that the notion of God m

especially in human beings, was not at all marginal

the variegated sound of God's speech manifest in a

260 Journal of Religious Ethics

This transfigured perception of reality and its moral implications

it possible to conclude that immoral action is simply not an option in

al-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234, nephew of Abu Najib and consolidator of

Mysticism as Morality 261

belong to God" (Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi 1973, 250).

Good actions, if performed for self-interest (for example, generosity for

Should be creation's all-consuming care;

Sufism's concern for the reduction of r

may appear, casts suspicion on its mor

Athens argues that greed in the hearts o

262 Journal of Religious Ethics

As Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi puts it in his famous manual on Sufism:

2. The Sufi Understanding of Religious Knowledge

Mysticism as Morality 263

(d. 414/1023), and al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111), culminating in many ways

264 Journal of Religious Ethics

traditions. By making of the divinely illuminated mind a regulatory

response in The Dignity of Mind and its Identity (al-Muhasibi 1986),

This affiliation of human mind and divine communique was made

of SunnI Islam, making al-Ghazali's Neoplatonic inclinations a century

Mysticism as Morality 265

by which to elevate it beyond the impurities of its worldly ways and

the human being is worthy to be called God's delegate on earth and to

was also highly proficient in Aristotelian categories of thinking as transmitted by the