Alexander D Knysh. Encyclopaedia of the Qur’an. Editor: Jane Dammen McAuliffe. Volume 5, Brill Academic Publishers, 2003.
Early Sufi Attitudes to the Qurʾan
From the outset, the Qurʾan was the principal source of contemplation and inspiration for every serious Muslim ascetic and mystic, whether formally Sufi or not. In fact, many Sufi concepts and terms have their origin in encounters with the qurʾanic text, endowing Sufism with much-needed legitimacy in the eyes of both Sufis and Muslims not directly affiliated with it. Yet, from the very beginning Sufi interpretations of the scripture (as well as Sufi practices, values and beliefs) were challenged by influential representatives of the Sunni and Shiʿi religious establishments, occasionally resulting in persecution of individual mystics. Sufis were accused of overplaying the allegorical aspects of the Qurʾan, claiming privileged, esoteric understanding of its contents and distorting its literal meaning. To demonstrate their faithfulness to the spirit and letter of the revelation advocates of Sufism drew heavily on the qurʾanic verses (q.v.) which, in their view, legitimized their brand of Islamic piety. Such verses usually emphasize the proximity and intimacy between God and his human servants (e.g. Q 2:115, 186; 20:7-8; 58:7). God’s immediate and immanent presence among the faithful is forcefully brought home in Q 50:16, in which he declares himself to be nearer to man than “his jugular vein”. The relationship of closeness and intimacy is occasionally presented in the Qurʾan in terms of mutual love (q.v.) between the maker and his creatures, as, for instance, in Q 5:54 (cf. Q 3:31, 76, 134, 146, 148, 159; 5:93, which also describe different categories of believers deserving of divine affection). Deeming themselves paragons of piety and devotion to God and true “heirs” of his Prophet, representatives of the early [proto-] Sufi movements viewed such verses as referring primarily, if not exclusively, to them. With the emergence of mystical cosmology and metaphysics, which provided justification for the mystical experiences of the Sufis, they put the Qurʾan to new, creative uses. Thus, in the famous “Light Verse” (Q 24:35) God’s persona is cast in the imagery of a sublime, majestic and unfathomable light, which renders it eminently conducive to gnostic elaborations on the theme of light (q.v.) and darkness (q.v.) and the eternal struggle between spirit (q.v.) and matter. According to early Sufi exegetes, God guides whom-soever he wishes with his light but has predilection for a special category of pious, god-fearing individuals who devote themselves completely to worshipping him. In return, God assures them of salvation (q.v.) in the hereafter (Q 2:38, 262, 264; 3:170; etc). As to those “who prefer the present life over the world (q.v.) to come,” “a terrible chastisement” awaits them (Q 14:3; cf. 2:86). From the beginning, Muslim ascetics and mystics identified themselves with God’s “protégés” (awliyaʾ) mentioned in Q 10:62 (cf. Q 8:34; 45:19). With time Sufi exegetes came to portray them as God’s elect “friends” and confidants who are able to intercede on behalf of the ordinary believers and guide them aright. In Sufi lore such “friends of God” were identified with authoritative Sufi masters, both living and deceased. In Q 7:172, which figures prominently in early Sufi discourses, the relations between God and his creatures are placed in a cosmic framework, as a primordial covenant (q.v.; mithaq) between them. During this crucial event the human race presented itself before God in the form of disembodied souls (q.v.) to bear witness to the absolute sovereignty (q.v.) of their lord (q.v.) at his request. Once in possession of sinful and restive bodies, however, most humans have forgotten their promise of faithfulness and devotion to God and therefore have to be constantly reminded of it by divine messengers and prophets. The goal of the true Sufi is to return to the state of pristine devotion and faithfulness of the day of the covenant by minimizing the corruptive drives of his body and his lower soul — one that “commands evil” (ammara bi-l-suʾ, Q 12:53). If successful, the mystic can transform his lower, restive self into a soul “at peace” (al-nafs al-muṭmaʾinna, Q 89:27) that is incapable of disobeying its lord. This can only be achieved through the self-imposed strictures of ascetic life, pious meditation and the remembrance (q.v.) of God (dhikr) as explicitly enjoined in Q 8:45, 18:24 and 33:41. Finally, on the level of personal experience, verses describing the visionary experiences of the prophet Muḥammad (namely, Q 17:1 and Q 53:1-18; see visions) provided a fruitful ground for mystical elaborations and attempts by mystically minded Muslims to, as it were, “recapture the rapture” of the founder of Islam, all the more so because the Qurʾan and the sunna (q.v.) repeatedly enjoin the believers to imitate him meticulously. While all of these verses resonated well with the aspirations of early Muslim ascetics and mystics, there were also those that did not, in that they prescribed moderation in worship, enjoyment of family (q.v.) life and fulfillment of social responsibilities, while at the same time discouraging the “excesses” of Christian-style monasticism (Q 4:3-4, 25-8, 127; 9:31; 57:27). Yet, these passages, as well as numerous injunctions against the renunciation of this world found in the Prophet’s sunna, could be either ignored or allegorized away, especially since some of them were inconclusive or self-contradictory (e.g. Q 5:82, which may be interpreted as praising the Christian monks for their exemplary righteousness). Eventually, however, the weight of scriptural evidence and social pressures forced most adherents of Sufism to steer a middle course, which allowed them to participate in social life and raise families while not compromising their ascetic-mystical vocations. As the body of Sufi lore grew with the passage of time and Sufism became a distinct life-style and a system of rituals, practices and beliefs, there emerged a specific Sufi exegesis aimed at justifying them.
The Rise and Early Development of Sufi Exegesis
The earliest samples of the Sufi exegetical lore were collected by an eminent Sufi master of Nishapur, Abu ʿAbd al-Raḥman al-Sulami (d. 412/1021) in his Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir. This work, which still awaits a critical edition (but cf. Böwering’s ed. of Sulami’s Ziyadat, an appendix to the Ḥaqaʾiq), is practically our only source for the initial stages of mystical exegesis in Islam. Its major representatives, al-Ḥasan al-Basri (d. 110/728), Jaʿfar al-Sadiq (d. 148/765), Sufyan al-Thawri (d. 161/778) and ʿAbdallah b. al-Mubarak (d. 181/797) were not Sufis stricto sensu, since the Baghdad school of Sufism was yet to emerge. Rather, these pious individuals were appropriated by Sufism’s later advocates, who presented them as paragons of Sufi piety avant-la-lettre. While their preoccupation with the spiritual and allegorical aspects of the scripture is impossible to deny, the authenticity of their exegetical logia, which were collected and transmitted by al-Sulami and some of his immediate predecessors more than a century after their death, is far from certain. The problem is particularly severe (and intriguing) in the case of the sixth Shiʿi imam (q.v.), Jaʿfar al-Sadiq. His role as a doyen of primeval mystical exegesis is difficult to prove, especially since his exegetical logia transmitted by al-Sulami are devoid of any of the expected Shiʿi themes. Unless his other tafsir transmitted in Shiʿi circles proves similar or identical to the one assembled by al-Sulami, the matter will remain uncertain (for details see Nwyia, Exégése, and Böwering, Mystical vision). One should not rule out the possibility of Shiʿi elements having been expunged from Jaʿfar’s exegetical logia by Sunni Sufis who transmitted them through separate channels. Alternatively, one may suggest that Sufi and Shiʿi esotericism originated in the same pious circles (Jaʿfar al-Sadiq is frequently quoted in the standard Sufi manual of Abu l-Qasim al-Qushayri; d. 465/1072), whereupon it took on different forms in the Sunni and Shiʿi intellectual environments. The problem of authorship is less severe in the case of such ascetically minded individuals as al-Ḥasan al-Basri, al-Thawri, and Ibn al-Mubarak who were major exponents of Sunni Islam in their age, although their role as the bona fide progenitors of the Sufi tradition is problematic. If authentic, Jaʿfar’s logia are probably the earliest extant expression of the methodological principles of mystical tafsir, which were adopted and elaborated by subsequent generations of Sufi commentators. According to Jaʿfar’s statement cited by al-Sulami at the beginning of his Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir, the Qurʾan has four aspects: ʿibara (a literal or obvious articulation of the meaning of a verse); ishara (its allegorical allusion); laṭaʾif (its subtle and symbolic aspects) and ḥaqaʾiq (its spiritual realities; cf. Böwering, Scriptural “senses”). Each of these levels of meanings has its own addressees, respectively: the ordinary believers (al-ʿawamm), the spiritual elite (al-khawass), God’s intimate friends (al-awliyaʾ) and the prophets (al-anbiyaʾ). On the practical level, Jaʿfar and his Sufi counterparts usually dealt with just two levels of meaning: the outward/exoteric (ẓahir) and the hidden/esoteric (baṭin), thereby subsuming the moral/ethical/legal meanings of a given verse under “literal” and its allegorical/mystical/anagogical subtext under “hidden.” As demonstrated by P. Nwyia, Jaʿfar’s exegetical interests were worlds apart from those of his contemporary Muqatil b. Sulayman (d. 150/767) who pursued a more conventional (albeit imaginative) historical and philological tafsir. For instance, unlike Muqatil, Jaʿfar shows no interest in the historical circumstances surrounding the battle of Badr (q.v.), as presented in the Qurʾan. When the Qurʾan says that “God supported him [Muḥammad] with the legions you [his followers] did not see” (Q 9:40), Jaʿfar interprets the “legions” not as “angels” (as argued by Muqatil and other exoterically minded exegetes) but as spiritual virtues that the mystic acquires in the course of his progress along the path to God (ṭariq), namely, “certitude” (yaqin), “trust in God” (thiqa) and a total “reliance” on him in everything one undertakes (tawakkul). Likewise, the qurʾanic injunction to “purify my [God’s] house (namely, the Kaʿba [q.v.]) for those who shall circumambulate it” (Q 22:26) is interpreted by Jaʿfar as a call upon the individual believer to “purify [his] soul from any association with the disobedient ones and anything other than God”, while the phrase “those who stay in front of it [the Kaʿba]” is glossed as an injunction for the ordinary believers to seek the company of “the [divine] gnostics (ʿarifun), who stand on the carpet of intimacy [with God] and service of him.” The notion of the divinely bestowed “gnosis,” or mystical knowledge (maʿrifa), which characterizes these elect servants of God figures prominently in Jaʿfar’s logia (see e.g. his commentary on Q 7:143, 160; 8:24; 27:34). This was to become a central concept in later Sufi epistemology, where it is usually juxtaposed with both received (traditional) wisdom (naql) and knowledge acquired through rational contemplation (ʿaql). The Qurʾan was, for Jaʿfar and Sufi commentators, a source of and a means towards the true realization (taḥqiq) of God.
The next stage of the development of Sufi exegesis, or, as Nwyia aptly calls it, une lecture introspective du Coran, is associated with a fairly large cohort of individuals who lived in the third/ninth-early fourth/tenth centuries. Their Sufi credentials, a few exceptions apart (e.g. al-Ḥakim al-Tirmidhi, fl. third/ninth cent.), do not raise any serious doubts. At least one of them, Aḥmad b. Aṭa (d. 309/922), and possibly also Dhu l-Nun al-Misri (d. 246/861) were involved in the transmission of Jaʿfar’s exegetical logia, which they amplified with their own elaborations. The others — namely Sahl al-Tustari (d. 283/896), Abu Sa id al-Kharraz (d. 286/899), Abu l-Ḥusayn al Nuri (d. 295/907), Abu l-Qasim al-Junayd (d. 298/910), Abu Bakr al-Wasiṭi (d. 320/932) and Abu Bakr al-Shibli (d. 334/946) — were frequently cited in Sufi literature as authoritative sources of exegetical logia and, in the case of al-Tustari, Ibn Aṭa and al-Wasiṭi, also as authors of full-fledged qurʾanic commentaries (Böwering, Sufi hermeneutics; id., Mystical vision).
The Centrality of the Quran to Sufi Piety
The methods of Qurʾan interpretation characteristic of early Sufi masters were examined by Nwyia (Jaʿfar al-Sadiq, Shaqiq al-Balkhi, Ibn Aṭa, and al-Nuri) and Böwering (al-Tustari, al-Sulami, and al-Daylami). They should be viewed against the background of the practices, life-style, values and beliefs current among the members of the early Sufi movement. On the practical level, the recitation of the Qurʾan (q.v.) was an indispensable part of quotidian Sufi life. Thus, Ibn Aṭa is said to have recited the entire text of the Qurʾan on a daily basis and thrice a day during the month of Ramaḍan (q.v.), which along with other rituals and super-erogatory prayers left him only two hours of sleep; Sahl al-Tustari (d. 283/896) learned the entire Qurʾan by heart when he was six or seven years old and kept reciting it throughout the rest of his life; Malik b. Dinar (d. 131/748) “was, ‘chewing’ it for [the first] twenty years [of his life] only to take pleasure in its recitation (tilawa) for the next twenty years” (Sarraj, Kitab al-Lumaʿ, 43); Ibn Khafif (d. 371/981) recited Q 112:1 ten thousand times during just one prayer and occasionally recited the entire text of the Qurʾan in the course of one prayer, which took him an entire day and a good part of the night, etc.
In most cases, esoteric interpretations of the Qurʾan by the above-mentioned Sufis were the fruits of many years of incessant recitation in an attempt to grasp and “extract” its hidden meaning (istinbaṭ). This term, which is derived from Q 4:83, became the hallmark of Sufi methods of Qurʾan interpretation. Alerted to the presence of a hidden meaning in a given verse by its subtle “allusion” (ishara), the Sufi felt obligated to “extract” it by means of istinbaṭ. This process is limited to those individuals who have fully engrossed themselves in the “sea” of the divine revelation after having purified their souls of any worldly attachments. Commenting on Q 4:83, al-ḥallaj (d. 309/922) stated that a Sufi’s ability to exercise istinbaṭ corresponds to “the measure of his piety, inwardly and outwardly, and the perfection of his gnosis (maʿrifa), which is the most glorious station of faith” (q.v.; ajall maqamat al-iman; Sulami, ḥaqaʾiq, i, 157). The close link between one’s ability to practice istinbaṭ and one’s strict compliance with the precepts of the divine law is brought forth by Abu Nasr al-Sarraj (d. 378/988), a renowned collector and disseminator of early Sufi lore. In his words, “extractions” (mustanbaṭat) are available only to those who “act in accord with the book (q.v.) of God, outwardly and inwardly, and follow the messenger of God, outwardly and inwardly.” In return, God makes them “heirs to the knowledge of subtle allusion (aIlm al-ishara)” and “unveils to the hearts of his elect [servants] carefully guarded meanings (maʿani madhkhura), spiritual subtleties (laṭaʾif) and well-kept secrets” (asrar makhzuna; Sarraj, Kitab al-Lumaʿ, 105).
In the case of the early Sufi exegete Sahl al-Tustari, we find a deeply personal and experiential relationship of the Sufi to the Qurʾan, which evolves within the framework of an oral recitation and reception of the divine word. On hearing or reciting a verse that resonates with the mystic’s spiritual state he may occasionally find himself gripped by an intense ecstasy and even lose consciousness. According to Böwering (Mystical, 136), al-Tustari’s commentary can be seen as a product of such experiential encounters “between the qurʾanic keynotes and the mystical matrix of [the mystic’s] world of ideas.” Inspired by a certain verse, al-Tustari spontaneously endeavored to communicate to his disciples his deeply personal and experiential understanding of it, which often had very little to do with its literal meaning. To sum up,
The Sufis … read the Qurʾan as the word of God, and what they seek there is not the word as such (which may even become a veil between them and God), but a God who makes himself accessible [to his wor-shippers] by means of this word (Nwyia, Trois oeuvres, 29).
The themes of the first Sufi commentaries on the Qurʾan are diverse and rather difficult to summarize. They usually deal with mystical cosmology, eschatology and the challenges faced by the human soul on its way to God. After professing their allegiance to their divine sovereign on the day of the primordial covenant (Q 7:172) human beings have found themselves plunged into a world of false values, temptations and illusions designed to test the integrity of their pact with God. God created good and evil and arbitrarily imposed his command (amr) on his human servants in order to distinguish the blessed from the evildoers. Within the former category he designated a special class of believers whom he endowed with an intuitive, revelatory knowledge of himself and his creatures (maʿrifa), leaving the rest of humankind to be content with the “externals” of religious faith and practice. These elect “friends of God” (awliyaʾ Allah) carry divine light in their hearts and thus can be seen as embodiments of his immanent and guiding presence amidst humankind. By imitating the friends of God (who, in turn, imitate the godly ways of his Prophet) ordinary believers can hope to escape the allure and temptations of mundane existence and to achieve salvation in the hereafter. Attaining the status of God’s friend and gnostic is not automatic, however, and requires painstaking efforts on the part of the aspirant (murid) as well as God’s continual assistance. The seeker’s greatest challenge is the corruptive influences of his vile body and the base soul (nafs), which acts as a constant temptress and an ally of Iblis. Its machinations can only be overcome by constant remembrance of God (dhikr), including the recitation of God’s word and remembrance of his “most beautiful names.” This goal can only be achieved by the elect few who traverse the entire length of the path to God in order to enter into his presence. In this state they become completely oblivious of the corrupt world around them, taking God as their sole focus and raison dʾêtre. By any standard, since its inception Sufi exegesis was thoroughly elitist and esoteric. Its practitioners implicitly and, on occasion, explicitly dismissed the concerns of mainstream Qurʾan interpreters (legal, historical, philological and theological) as inadequate and even misguided inasmuch as they focused on the Qurʾan’s “husks,” while ignoring its all-important spiritual “kernel.” The Sufis regarded themselves as the sole custodians of that kernel and sought to protect it from outsiders by using subtle allusions and recondite terminology.
Some Muslim scholars were enraged by the Sufi claim to a privileged knowledge of the scripture and denounced Sufi exegesis as fanciful, arbitrary and not supported by the authority of the Prophet and his Companions. Thus, a renowned Qurʾan commentator, Ali b. Muḥammad al-Waḥidi (d. 468/1076), not only refused to accord al-Sulami’s exegetical summa the status of tafsir but even proclaimed it an expression of outright “unbelief”. Similar negative opinions of that work were voiced by Ibn al-Jawzi (d. 597/1201), Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328) and al-Dhahabi (d. 748/1348), who declared it to be a collection of “distortion and heresy” (q.v.; taḥrif wa-qarmaṭa) reminiscent of Ismaili exegesis (taḥwilat al-baṭiniyya). Yet, despite such criticism al-Sulami’s voluminous work, which contains more than twelve thousand glosses on some three thousand qurʾanic passages, gained wide popularity among Sufis of various stripes. As was the case with Jaʿfar, Ibn ʿAṭa and al-Tustari, al-Sulami did not include in his compendium any conventional exegetical material, be it legal, philological or historical (Böwering, Sufi hermeneutics). His position is clearly stated in the introduction to his magnum opus:
Upon discovering that — among the practitioners of exoteric sciences (ʿulum ẓawahir) [who] have compiled [numerous] works pertaining to [beneficial] virtues (fawaʾid) of the Qurʾan, such as methods of its recitation (qiraʿat), its [historical] commentaries (tafsir), its difficulties (mushkilat, its legal rulings (aḥkam), its vocalization (iʿrab), its lexicological aspects (lugha), its summation and detailed explanation (mujmal wa-mufasal), its abrogating and abrogated verses (nasikh wa-mansukh), and so on — no one has cared to collect the understanding of its discourse (khiṭab) in accordance with the language of the people of the true reality (ahl al-ḥaqiqa). .. I have asked God’s blessing to bring together some of it.
All told, al-Sulami’s exegetical methods and goals are similar to those of about a hundred of his authorities, who lived in the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries and whose foremost representatives have already been discussed. To quote the major Western expert on this work,
The Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir is the crowning event of a long creative period of Sufi terminology and ideology, developing in close relationship with its Koranic foundation and yet breaking through to a continuous process of inspired revelation by the methodological means of allusion (Böwering, Sufi hermeneutics, 265).
The Growth and Maturity of Sufi Exegetical Tradition (From the Fifth/Eleventh to the Seventh/Thirteenth Centuries)
Al-Sulami’s monumental work, which played the same role in Sufi tafsir as al-Ṭabari’s (d. 310/923) Jamiʿ al-bayan in traditional exegesis, laid the foundations for the subsequent evolution of this genre of Sufi literature. With time there emerged several distinct trends within the body of Sufi exegetical literature, which reflected the growing internal complexity of the Sufi movement in the period leading up to the fall of the Baghdad caliphate in 656/1258. One such trend can be described as “moderate” or “shariʿa -oriented.” It is represented by such Sufi luminaries as al-Qushayri (d. 465/1074), Abu Ḥamid al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111) and Abu Ḥafs ʿUmar al-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234).
Abu l-Qasim al-Qushayri of Nishapur is famous first and foremost as the author of the popular tract al-Risala [al-Qushayriyya] fiʿilm al-tasawwuf which combines elements of Sufi biography with those of a Sufi manual. Like the Risala, al-Qushayri’s qurʾanic commentary Laṭaʾif al-isharat pursues a clear apologetic agenda: the defense of the teachings, values and practices of “moderate,” Junayd-style Sufism and the demonstration of its full compliance with the major precepts of Ashʿari theology. Written in 410/1019, this exegetical work consistently draws a parallel between the gradual progress from the literal to the subtlest meanings (laṭaʾif) of the qurʾanic text and the stages of the Sufi’s spiritual and experiential journey to God. The success of this exegetical progress, as well as of the Sufi journey, depends on the wayfarer’s ability to combine the performance of pious works and feats of spirit with sound doctrinal premises. Giving preference to one over the other will result in failure. Even when this delicate balance is successfully struck, one still needs divine assistance in unraveling the subtleties of the divine revelation, which is equally true of the Sufi seeker’s striving toward God. Hence the notion of a privileged, esoteric knowledge of both God and this word that God grants only to his most intimate, elect “friends,” the awliyaʾ. This idea is stated clearly in the introduction to Laṭaʾif alisharat:
[God] has honored the elect (asfiyaʾ) among his servants by [granting them] the understanding of his subtle secrets (q.v.; laṭaʾif asrarihi) and his lights so that they can see the elusive allusions and hidden signs (q.v.) contained therein [in the Qurʾan]. He has shown their innermost souls hidden things so that by the emanations of the unseen which he has imparted solely to them they can become aware of that which has been concealed from all others. Then they have started to speak according to their degrees [of attainment] and capabilities, and God — praise be to him — inspired in them things by which he has honored them. So, they now speak on behalf of him, inform about the subtle truths that he has imparted to them, and point to him … (Laṭaʾif, i, 53).
The exegete’s progress toward the innermost meaning of the scripture is described by al-Qushayri as a movement from the intellect (q.v.) to the heart, then to the spirit (al-ruḥ), then to the innermost secret (al-sirr) and, finally, to the secret of secrets (sirr al-sirr) of the Qurʾan. Al-Qushayri’s approach to the Qurʾan is marked by his meticulous attention to every detail of the qurʾanic word, from an entire verse to a single letter found in it. Typical in this regard is his interpretation of the basmala (q.v.), in which each letter of this phrase is endowed with a symbolic meaning: the baʾ stands for God’s gentleness (birr) toward his friends (awliyaʾ); the sin for the secret he shares with his elect (asfiyaʾ); and the mim for his bestowal of grace (minna) upon those who have attained intimacy with him (ahl wilayatihi). In an attempt to achieve comprehensiveness al-Qushayri marshals several alternative interpretations of the basmala, e.g. one in which the baʾ alludes to God’s freedom (baraʾa) from any fault; the sin to the absence of any defect in him (salamatuhu minʿayb); and the mim to the majesty of his attributes (Laṭaʾif, i, 56).
While such speculations are not unique to al-Qushayri and can be found in exegetical works contemporary to his, both Sufi and non-Sufi alike, there is one feature that sets Laṭaʾif al-isharat apart from them. For al-Qushayri, the basmala is not a simple repetition of the same set of meanings, for the divine word allows no repetition. Rather, the meaning of the basmala may change depending on the major themes contained in the suras (q.v.) that it precedes. Thus, in discussing the symbolism of the letters of the basmala preceding q 7, al-Qushayri implicitly links them to the themes of submission (islam), humility and reverence requisite of the true believer as opposed to the rebellious behavior of Iblis and his host (e.g. Q 7:11-15, 31-3, 35-6, 39-40, etc.) by arguing that the letter baʾ is of a small stature in writing and the dot [underneath it], which distinguishes it from other [letters] is single and, to boot, small to the extreme. Moreover, it [the dot] is positioned underneath the letter, [all of which] alludes to modesty and humility in all respects (Laṭaʾif, i, 211-12).
Likewise, the presence of the sukun (absence of a vowel) over the letter sin following the “humble” and “submissive” baʾ alludes to its silent acceptance of the divine decree and complete contentment with it. Finally, the letter mim points to “his [God’s] bestowal of grace [upon you] (minnatuhu), if he so pleases, then to your agreement (muwafaqatuka) with his decree and your satisfaction with it, even though he may not bestow anything [upon you] (ibid.).
Al-Qushayri’s interpretation of the basmala of Q 15 (Surat al-Ḥijr) is quite different. The omission of the alif in the basmala of that sura without any rationally justifiable reason, either grammatically or morphologically, according to al-Qushayri, symbolizes God’s arbitrary “raising” of Adam (despite his “base” nature) and his subsequent “humiliation” of the angels (despite their elevated status), as described in the main body of the sura. In a similar vein, the omission of the basmala in Q 9 is interpreted by al-Qushayri in the following manner:
God — praise be to him — has stripped (jarrada) this sura of the basmala, so that it be known that he can endow (yakhus) whomever and whatever he wants with whatever he wants. [In the same way,] he can single out whomever he wants with whatever he wants. His creation has no cause, his actions have neither a purpose nor a goal (Laṭaʾif, iii, 5).
This, of course, is an Ashʿari stance formulated in implicit opposition to that of the Muʿtazilis who advocated the underlying rationality and purposefulness of divine actions. Thus, as mentioned, in al-Qushayri’s commentary, Sufi symbolism and the Ashʿari dogma go hand in hand and are deployed to support each other.
Al-Qushayri’s interest in the symbolism of letters comes to the fore in his discussions of the “mysterious letters” (q.v.) that appear at the beginning of some qurʾanic chapters. Typical in this respect is his exegesis of the combination alif lam mim that precedes q 2. Upon stating that the alif stands for Allah, the lam for laṭaʾif (the subtle realities; also one of the epithets of God, laṭif) and the mim for majid (the glorious) and malik (the king), he proceeds to argue that
The alif is singled out from among the other letters by the fact that it is not connected to any letter in writing, while all but a few letters are connected to it. May the servant of God upon considering this feature become aware of the need of all creatures for him [God], with him being self-sufficient and independent of anything (Laṭaʾif, i, 41).
Furthermore, the alifʾs singularity is evident from the fact that all other letters have a concrete site of articulation in the human speech (q.v.) apparatus, while it has none. In the same way, God cannot be associated with (yuḍaf ila) any particular location or site. Finally, “The faithful servant of God is like the alif in its not being connected to any letter, in its constant uprightness and its standing posture before him” (ibid.).
As one may expect of a Sufi master, al-Qushayri showed little interest in the historical and legal aspects of the qurʾanic text. For him, they serve as windows onto the spiritual and mystical ideas and values characteristic of Sufi piety. Thus, in discussing the spoils of war (ghanima) mentioned in Q 8:41 al-Qushayri argues:
Jihad (q.v.) can be of two types: the external one [waged] against the infidels and the internal one [waged] against [one’s] soul and Satan. In the same way as the lesser jihad involves [the seizure of] spoils of war after victory, the greater jihad too has the spoils of war of its own, which involves taking possession of his soul by the servant of God after it has been held by his two enemies — [his] passions and Satan (Laṭaʾif, ii, 321).
A similar parallel is drawn between ordinary fasting (q.v.) which involves abstention from food, drink and sex and the spiritual abstention of the Sufi from the allure of this world and from seeking the approval of its inhabitants. In a similar vein, al-Qushayri likens the juridical notion of abrogation (naskh) to the initial strict observance of the divine law by the Sufi novice, which is supplanted, or “abrogated,” when he reaches the stage at which God himself becomes the guardian of his heart. In al-Qushayri’s commentary all ritual duties sanctioned by the Qurʾan are endowed with a deeper spiritual significance: the standing of pilgrims on the plain of ʿArafat (q.v.) is compared to the “standing” of human hearts in the presence of the divine names and attributes. Despite its overall “moderate” nature, the Laṭaʾif al-isharat is not devoid of the monistic and visionary elements that characterize what is usually described as the more “bold” and “esoteric” trend in Sufi qurʾanic commentary. This aspect of al-Qushayri’s exegesis comes to the fore in his interpretation of Q 7:143, in which Moses (q.v.) comes to God at an appointed time (li-miqatina) and requests that God appear to him, only to be humbled by the sight of a mountain crumbling to dust, when God shows himself to it. According to al-Qushayri,
Moses came to God as [only] those passionately longing and madly in love could. Moses came without Moses. Moses came, yet nothing of Moses was left to Moses. Thousands of men have traversed great distances, yet no one remembers them, while that Moses made [only] a few steps and [school] children will be reciting until the day of judgment: “when Moses came …” (Laṭaʾif, ii, 259).
Despite such “ecstatic” passages, al-Qushayri’s book can still be considered a typical sample of “moderate” Sufi exegesis because of its author’s overriding desire to achieve a delicate balance between the mystical imagination and the respect for the letter of the revelation or, in Sufi parlance, between the shariʿa and the ḥaqiqa. One should point out that al-Qushayri is also the author of a conventional historical-philological and legal tafsir entitled al-Taysir fi l-tafsir, which is said to have been written before 410/1019. This is an eloquent testimony to his dual credentials as both a Sufi and a conventional scholar (ʿalim).
Another example of “moderate” Sufi tafsir is al-Kashf wa-l-bayanʿan tafsir al-Qurʾan by Abu Isḥaq Aḥmad b. Muḥammad al-Thaʿlabi (d. 427/1035). Drawing heavily on Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir, al-Thaʿlabi augmented the Sufi exegetical logia assembled by al-Sulami with conventional exegetical materials derived from ḥadith as well as detailed discussions of the philological aspects and legal implications of the qurʾanic text (Saleh, Formation). Al-Thaʿlabi’s work formed the foundation of the famous commentary Maʿalim al-tanzil fi tafsir al-Qurʾan by Abu Muḥammad al-ḥusayn al-Baghawi (hence its better known title — Tafsir al-Baghawi). He was born in 438/1046 in the village of Bagh or Baghshur located between Herat and Marw al-Rudh and distinguished himself primarily as a Shafii jurist and muḥaddith, whose thematically arranged collection of prophetic reports titled Maḥabiḥ al-sunna became a standard work of its genre. Although al-Baghawi was not considered a full-fledged Sufi, he led an ascetic and pious way of life and avoided any contact with ruling authorities. His tafsir is marked by his meticulous concern for the exegetical materials going back to the Prophet and his Companions (al-tafsir bi-l-maʿthur) and his desire to elucidate all possible aspects of the qurʾanic text. In seeking to achieve comprehensiveness he availed himself of diverse sources: from the leading Arab grammarians to the Shiʿi imams and legal scholars. His Sufi authorities include Ibrahim b. Adham (d. 160/777), Fuḍayl b. Iyaḍ (d. 188/803), al-Tustari and al-Junayd (d. 298/910), whose ideas had probably reached him via al-Sulami’s Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir and al-Thaʿlabi’s al-Kashf wa-l-bayan. Al-Baghawi’s use of this material was probably dictated by his drive to highlight all possible interpretations of the sacred text without privileging any one of them. Since by his age Sufism had established itself as a legitimate and praiseworthy strain of Islamic piety he felt obligated to mention Sufi views of the revelation, avoiding, however, their more controversial aspects. Thus, his inclusion of Sufi exegesis did not necessarily reflect his own spiritual and intellectual priorities — a trend that we observe in many later exegetical works.
A typical representative of this trend in the later period is ʿAbu l-ḥasan Ali b. Muḥammad al-Shiḥi al-Baghdadi, better known as “al-Khazin” (d. 741/1341), whose Lubab al-taʾwil fi maʿani al-tanzil is an abridged rendition of al-Baghawi’s Maʿalim al-tanzil. As with al-Baghawi, Sufi exegesis is just one of the aspects of the qurʾanic text that preoccupy al-Khazin who explicitly states this in the introduction to his commentary. His other concerns include the rules of recitation, material transmitted by the Prophet and his Companions (tafsir bi-l-maʿthur), legal implications (al-aḥkam al-fiqhiyya), the “occasions of revelation,” curious and unusual stories of past prophets and generations (q.v.; al-qisas al-ghariba wa-akhbar al-maḍin al-ʿajiba). Therefore, the reason why this tafsir is sometimes classified as Sufi (e.g. Ayazi, Mufassirun, 598-602; al-Baghawi’s tafsir, on the other hand, is not identified as such, ibid., 644-9) remains unclear. In any event, it is certainly indicative of the trend toward comprehensiveness that gradually led to the blurring of the borderline between “Sufi” and “non-Sufi” exegesis and the inclusion of Sufi exegesis in conventional commentaries, both Sunni and Shiʿi.
On the other hand, we observe the opposite tendency in approaching the Qurʾan, when renowned Sufi masters produce quite conventional exegetical works that are practically devoid of any Sufi elements. Nughbat al-bayan fi tafsir al-Qurʾan by the influential Sufi scholar and statesman under the caliph al-Qadir, Abu ḥafs Umar al-Suhrawardi (d. 632/1234), which is occasionally classified under the rubric of “moderate” Sufi exegesis (e.g Böwering, Sufi hermeneutics, 257), is a case in point. This work, which remains in manuscript (see Düzenli, Şihabuddin), is characterized by a Western scholar as “a very standard, non-mystical commentary” that is “firmly situated in the type of philological and situational exegesis represented in the standard Sunnicommentaries and exegetical tradition upon which al-Suhrawardi was drawing” (Ohlander, Abu Ḥafs). Indeed, even a cursory glance at the first dozen pages of its manuscript demonstrates an almost complete lack of any recognizable Sufi motifs and methods. Moreover, the author explicitly states in the introduction that he has chosen to “stick to the basics” of the tafsir genre and to abstain from composing a sophisticated and recondite esoteric commentary (an ubriza min sawaniḥ al-ghuyub ma yarwiʿaṭash al-qulub) because of lack of time (fol. 2).
Our survey of “moderate” Sufi exegesis would be incomplete without mentioning Persian tafsirs by Abu l-Faḍl Rashid al-Din Aḥmad al-Maybudi (d. 530/1135) and Abu Nasr Aḥmad al-Darwajiki (d. 549/1154). The former is based on the exegetical work of the renowned ḥanbali mystic ʿAbdallah al-Ansari l-Harawi (d. 481/1089), as the author explicitly states in the introduction. It is no wonder that it is sometimes referred to as Tafsir khawaja ʿAbdallah al-Ansari, but the title given to it by the author is Kashf al-asrar wa-ʿuddat al-abrar. Born of a family renowned for its learning and piety in a town of Maybud (the province of Yazd in Iran), al-Maybudi combined the traditional education of a ʿShafii jurist and muḥaddith with a propensity to mysticism and an ascetic life-style. Like the other “moderate” Sufi commentaries discussed above, al-Maybudi’s Kashf al-asrar combines conventional historical, philological and legal exegesis with Sufi isharat and laṭaʾif. The former is usually expressed in Arabic and the latter in Persian, thereby setting a precedent to be followed by many Persophone Sufi authors in Iran and India. The commentator describes his method as consisting of three “stages” (nawba). The first involves a translation of selected verses from Arabic into Persian; the second provides a conventional historical, philological and legal commentary; while the third deals with the mystical aspects of the revelation. The latter relies heavily on al-Ansari’s mystical commentary, which in turn is based on al-Sulami’s Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir and its Sufi authorities such as Abu Yazid al-Bisṭami (d. 234/848 or 261/875), al-Junayd, al-Tustari, and al-Shibli (d. 334/946), etc. As befits a “moderate” commentator, al-Maybudi avoids Sufi interpretations that conflict with the literal meaning of the qurʾanic text. His treatment of the controversial issues of anthropomorphic features of God, the provenance of good and evil, and divine predetermination of all events is that of an Ashʿari theologian.
Little is known about the other Persian tafsir of that age by al-Darwajiki, nicknamed the “ascetic” (zahid), beyond a cursory mention of his work, which remains unpublished. Even the exact title of his tafsir remains debated, although it is often referred to as Tafsir al-zahid. The author’s sobriquet indicates his propensity for an ascetic life-style; however, in the absence of an available text of this work its exact character is impossible to determine.
A totally different vision of the qurʾanic revelation was presented by the celebrated Sunni theologian and jurist Abu Ḥamid al-Ghazali, whose famous tract Jawahir al-Qurʾan can hardly be defined as exegetical in the conventional sense of the word. Nevertheless, its emphasis on the numerous layers of meaning embedded in qurʾanic chapters and verses and the idea that the most elusive and subtle of them constitute the exclusive domain of Sufi gnostics gives it a distinctive Sufi flavor. In this work al-Ghazali undertakes a classification of several types of qurʾanic verses according to their contents. In so doing he establishes a hierarchy of verses by likening them to various types of precious stones, pearls and rare substances. Thus, the knowledge (maʿrifa) of God is symbolized by red sulfur (the precious substance which according to medieval alchemy could transform base metals into gold), while the knowledge of God’s essence, attributes and works is likened to three types of corundum. Below this sublime knowledge lies what al-Ghazali describes as “the definition of the path advancing to God,” namely the verses of the Qurʾan that elucidate the major stages of the believer’s progress to God. This progress is couched by al-Ghazali in a typical Sufi imagery of “polishing” the mirror of the heart and soul and actualizing the divine nature (lahut) inherent in every human being. AlGhazali likens this category of qurʾanic verses to “shining pearls.” The third category contains verses dealing with man’s condition at the time of his final encounter with God, namely, resurrection (q.v.), reckoning, the reward and the punishment, the beatific vision of God in the afterlife, etc. According to al-Ghazali, this category, which he dubs “green emerald,” comprises “a third part of the verses and suras of the Qurʾan.” The fourth group includes numerous verses describing “the conditions of those who have traversed [the path to God] and those who have denied him and deviated from his path,” namely, various prophetic and angelic figures and other mythological individuals mentioned in the Qurʾan. In al-Ghazali’s view, their goal is to arouse fear and give warning to the believers and to make them consider carefully their own condition visà-vis God. He compares these verses to grey ambergris and fresh and blooming aloe-wood. The fifth group of verses deals with “the arguments of the infidels against the truth and clear explanation of their humiliation by obvious proofs.” According to al-Ghazali these verses contain the greatest antidote (al-tiryaq al-akbar). The sixth category of verses deals with the stages of man’s journey to God and the management of its “vehicle,” the human body, by supplying it with lawful means of sustenance (q.v.) and procreation. All this presupposes the wayfarer’s interaction with other human beings and their institutions, the rules of which, according to al-Ghazali, are stipulated in the verses belonging to the sixth category. Al-Ghazali likens it to the “strongest musk.”
Upon establishing this hierarchy of qurʾanic verses, al-Ghazali proceeds to classify the “outward” and “inward” sciences associated with the Qurʾan. To the former belong (a) the science of its recitation which is represented by Qurʾan readers and reciters; (b) the knowledge of its language and grammar which is handled by philologists and grammarians; and (c) the science of “outward exegesis” (al-tafsir al-ẓahir) which its practitioners, those scholars whose focus rests on the Qurʾan’s “external shell” (al-sadaf), mistakenly consider the consummate knowledge available to human beings. While al-Ghazali recognizes the necessity of these “outward” sciences and their practitioners, he dismisses their claims to represent the ultimate knowledge about the Qurʾan. He attributes this honor to the “sciences of the kernels of the Qurʾan” (ʿulum al-lubab), which are subdivided into two levels: the lower and the higher. The former, in turn, is subdivided into three groups: (a) the knowledge of the stories of the qurʾanic prophets, which is preserved and transmitted by story-tellers, preachers and ḥadith-transmitters; (b) the knowledge of God’s arguments against his deniers, which gave rise to theology (al-kalam) and its practitioners (the mutakallimun); and (c) the knowledge of the legal injunctions of the Qurʾan, which is represented by the jurists (fuqahaʾ). The latter, according to al-Ghazali, are more important than the other religious specialists because the need for them is “more universal.” The upper level of the sciences that branched off of the Qurʾan includes the knowledge of God and of the world to come, followed by the knowledge of the “straight path and of the manner of traversing it.”
Having established the hierarchy of sciences that have grown out of the Qurʾan, al-Ghazali lays out his exegetical method, which hinges on the notion of the allegorical and symbolic nature of the revelation:
Know that everything which you are likely to understand is presented to you in such a way that, if in sleep you were studying the Protected Tablet (al-lawḥ al-maḥfuẓ) with your soul, it would be related to you through a suitable symbol which needs interpretation (Eng. trans. in Ghazali, Jewels, 52).
Hence, “The interpretation of the Qurʾan (taʾwil),” according to al-Ghazali, “occupies the place of the interpretation of dreams” (taʾbir; ibid.) and the exegete’s task is to “comprehend the hidden connection between the visible world and the invisible” (Ghazali, Jewels, 53) or unseen in the same way as the interpreter of dreams strives to make sense out of somebody’s dream or vision. This idea is brought home in the following program-matic statement:
Understand that so long as you are in this-worldly life you are asleep, and your waking-up will occur only after death, at which time you become fit to see the clear truth face to face. Before that time it is impossible for you to know the realities except when they are molded in the form of imaginative symbols (Ghazali, Jewels, 54).
The only way to gain the knowledge of the true reality of God and his creation is, according to al-Ghazali, through the renunciation of this world and righteousness. Those who seek “the vanities of this world, eating what is unlawful and following [their] carnal desires” are barred from the understanding of the qurʾanic message. Their corrupt and sinful nature makes them see nothing in the Qurʾan but contradiction and incongruence. Hence, the perception of the qurʾanic allegories and symbols by different people correspond to their level of spiritual purity and intellectual attainment. In commenting on the special virtue of Q 1 (Surat al-Fatiḥa, “The Opening”), which many exegetes consider to be the key to paradise (q.v.), al-Ghazali argues that a worldly individual imagines the qurʾanic paradise to be a place where he will satisfy his desire for food, drink and sex, while the perfected Sufi gnostic sees it as a site of refined spiritual pleasures and “pays no heed to the paradise of the fools.”
Apart from the Fatiḥa, al-Ghazali singles out the following verses for a special discussion: Q 2:255, “The Throne Verse”, Q 112 (Surat al-Ikhlas, “Purity of Faith”), Q 36 (Surat Ya Sin), whereupon he declares the Fatiḥa to be “the best of all suras” and the “Throne Verse” to be “the chief of all verses.” In the subsequent narrative he enumerates 763 “jewel verses” and 741 “pearl verses.” Al-Ghazali never directly addresses the issue of how and why some divine statements can be better than others, although he profusely quotes prophetic reports that assert the special virtues of certain verses and suras.
Like al-Qushayri and earlier exegetes, al-Ghazali is convinced that the depth of one’s understanding of the Qurʾan is directly linked to one’s level of spiritual purity, righteousness and intellectual progress. It is no wonder that in his ranking of exegetes the highest rank is unequivocally accorded to the accomplished Sufi gnostic (ʿarif). To him and only to him is disclosed the greatest secret of being. This is stated clearly in al-Ghazali’s Mishkat al-anwar — an esoteric reflection on the epistemic and ontological implications of the “Light Verse” (Q 24:35):
The gnostics ascend from the foothill of metaphor (q.v.; al-majaz) to the way-station of the true reality (al-ḥaqiqa). When they complete their ascension, they see directly that there is nothing in existence except God most high (Ghazali, Mishkat, 58).
Therefore, for the gnostics, the qurʾanic phrase “Everything perishes save his face” (Q 28:88) is an expression of the existential truth, according to which “everything except God, if considered from the viewpoint of its essence, is but a pure nonexistence (ʿadam maḥḍ),” God being the only reality of the entire universe (Mishkat, 58). This bold idea prefigures the monistic speculations of Ibn al-ʿArabi and his followers, who also were to make extensive use of esoteric exegesis in order to showcase their monistic vision of the world.
The Blossoming of Ecstatic/Esoteric Exegesis
The works of Persian Sufis Abu Thabit Muḥammad al-Daylami (d. 593/1197) and Ruzbihan Baqli (d. 606/1209) constitute a distinct trend in Sufi exegetical literature that is characterized by “intense visions and powerful ecstasies interpreted in terms of a qurʾanically based metaphysics” (Ernst, Ruzbihan, ix). The prevalence of such elements in the exegetical works of these two writers prompted Böwering (Sufi hermeneutics, 257) to describe them as being more “esoteric” than their “moderate” counterparts discussed above. Al-Daylami, a little known, if original and prolific author, wrote a mystical commentary entitled Tasdiq al-maʿarif (it is also occasionally referred to as Futuḥ al-raḥman fi isharat al-Qurʾan). It creatively combines early Sufi exegetical dicta borrowed from al-Sulami’s Ḥaqaʾiq al-tafsir — they constitute about half of al-Daylami’s work — with the author’s own elaborations. Surprisingly, al-Daylami never mentions al-Qushayri’s Laṭaʾif al-isharat, which was composed some one hundred years before his own. As already mentioned, al-Daylami’s own texts reflect his overwhelming preoccupation with “the visionary world of the mystic,” which “is seen as totally real and fully identical with the spiritual world of the invisible realm” (ibid., 270). In the absence of an edited and published text of this commentary — which seems to exist in a unique manuscript — one cannot provide a detailed analysis of its content. According to Böwering who discovered the manuscript in a Turkish archive, it is “a continuous yet eclectic commentary on selected koranic verses from all suras presented in sequence” which “consists of two parallel levels of interpretative glosses on koranic phrases, specimens of Sufi sayings, and items of the author’s own explanation.” His work foreshadowed “ideas that emerged in the Kobrawi school” [of Sufism] (Böwering, Deylami), whose exegetical production will be discussed below.
Somewhat better known is the commentary of al-Daylami’s younger contemporary Ruzbihan [al-]Baqli al-Shirazi (d. 606/1209) entitled ʿAraʾis al-bayan fi Ḥaqaʾiq al-Qurʾan. This massive exegetical opus reflects Ruzbihan’s overriding propensity for visions, dreams, powerful ecstasies and ecstatic utterances that “earned him the sobriquet ‘Doctor Ecstaticus’ (shaykh-i shaṭṭaḥ)” (Ernst, Ruzbihan). Like al-Daylami’s Tasdiq al-maʿarif, ʿAraʾis albayan was written in Arabic and consists almost equally of earlier exegetical material — mostly borrowed from al-Sulami — and of the author’s own glosses. In contrast to al-Daylami, Ruzbihan also availed himself of the materials borrowed from al-Qushayri’s Laṭaʾif al-isharat. Ruzbihan’s uses of the Qurʾan in both his commentary and other works, however, are much bolder than those of the Sufi exegetes already described. Not only does he constantly invoke the sacred text in describing his spiritual encounters with and visions of God, but he also claims to have symbolically eaten it. Thus in his Kashf al-asrar, “Unveiling of secrets,” he provides the following description of his visionary experiences:
When I passed through the atmosphere of eternity (q.v.), I stopped at the door of power. I saw all the prophets present there; I saw Moses with the Torah (q.v.) in his hand, Jesus (q.v.) with the Gospel (q.v.) in his hand, David (q.v.) with the Psalms (q.v.), and Muḥammad with the Qurʾan in his hand. Moses gave me the Torah to eat, Jesus gave me the Gospel to eat, David gave me the Psalms to eat and Muḥammad gave me the Qurʾan to eat. Adam gave me the most beautiful names [of God] and the Greatest Name to drink. I learned what I learned of the elect divine sciences for which God singles out his prophets and saints (Ernst, Ruzbihan, 51).
One can hardly be any bolder than this. According to Ernst, this dream is deemed to symbolize Ruzbihan’s “complete internalization” of the inspiration of these scriptures. The Qurʾan and its imagery figure prominently in the Sufi’s ecstatic visions. Thus he compares his condition in the presence of God with that of Zulaykha in the presence of Joseph (q.v.; Q 12:22-32), as described in the following passage:
He wined me with the wine (q.v.) of intimacy and nearness. Then he left and I saw him as the mirror of creation wherever I faced, and that was his saying, “Wheresoever you turn, there is the face of God” (Q 2:109 [sic]). Then he spoke to me after increasing my longing for him … and [I] said to myself: “I want to see his beauty without interruption.” He said: “Remember the condition of Zulaykha and Joseph …” (Ernst, Ruzbihan, 42).
Ruzbihan also draws a bold comparison between himself and Adam and has God say the following:
I have chosen my servant Ruzbihan for eternal happiness, sainthood (wilaya), and bounty …. He is my vicegerent (khalifa) in this world and all worlds; I love whosoever loves him and hate whosoever hates him …, for I am “one who acts when he wishes” (Q 107:11 [sic]; Ernst, Ruzbihan, 48).
This feeling of mutual love, intimacy and [com]passion between God and his mystical lover is the hallmark of Ruzbihan’s entire mystical legacy. According to Ernst, the very title of Ruzbihan’s commentary — ʿAraʾis al-bayan, “The brides of explanation” — “invokes the unveiling of the bride in a loving encounter as the model of initiation into the esoteric knowledge of God” (Ernst, Ruzbihan, 71). One can argue that Ruzbihan’s visionary and ecstatic experiences are virtually permeated by qurʾanic language and imagery. As with early Sufi masters, the Qurʾan serves Ruzbihan as a means of transforming himself and, eventually, achieving the ultimate intimacy with and knowledge of God.
Ibn Al-ʿArabi and the Kubrawi Tradition
According to Böwering’s classification (Sufi hermeneutics, 257), the subsequent stage in the development of Sufi exegesis was dominated by its two major strains: Muḥyi l-Din Ibn al-ʿArabi (d. 638/1240) and his followers (mostly in the Muslim east) and Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 618/1221) and the Kubrawi school of Sufism.
One can say that Ibn al-ʿArabi’s long-lasting influence on the subsequent Sufi tradition springs from his role as an intellectual bridge between eastern and western strains of Sufism. While Sufi ideas initially spread westwards — from Sahl al-Tustari and the Baghdadi school to Ibn Masarra al-Jabali (d. 319/931) and his Andalusi and Maghribi successors — by the sixth/twelfth century western Sufism acquired a distinctive character and was represented by such versatile and original thinkers as Ibn Barrajan (d. 536/1141), Ibn al-ʿArif (d. 536/1141), Ibn Qasi (d. 546/1151), Abu Madyan (d. 594/1197) and Ibn al-ʿArabi, to name but a few (Gril, ‘La lecture’, 521-2). Of these Ibn Barrajan deserves special notice as the author of at least one, and possibly two, Sufi commentaries that seem to have had a profound influence on Ibn al-ʿArabi and his numerous followers in the Muslim east.
As with earlier Sufi exegetes, Ibn Barrajan envisioned the realization of the qurʾanic message by the mystic as his progressive immersion into its mysteries, which eventually results in what the Andalusi master called “the paramount reading” (al-tilawa l-ʿulya) of the Qurʾan. In the process, the very personality of the mystic is transformed by this encounter with the divine word as he passes from its literal message (ʿibra; iʿtibar) to its underlying, “crossed over to” truth (al-maʿbur ilayhi) and from a physical perception (basar) of the sacred text to an interior, intuitive grasp of its inner reality (Gril, ‘La lecture’, 516). In other words, in the process of “remembering” (dhikr) and contemplating the Qurʾan the mystic develops a deep and genuine insight that allows him to realize its true meaning and implications. As a result, he is eventually transformed into the “universal servant” (al-ʿʿabd al-kulli), whose recitation of the sacred text is twice as effective as the recitation of the ordinary believer or the “partial servant” (al-ʿʿabd al-juzʾi).
Ibn Barrajan’s exegesis displays the following characteristic features that set it apart from the mainstream interpretative tradition (whose elements are duly represented in his work): (1) the insistence that dhikr should serve as the means of achieving a total and undivided concentration on the sacred text; (2) the continual awareness of the subtle correspondences between the phenomena and entities of the universe and the “signs” embedded in the scripture; (3) the affirmation that the heart of the “universal servant” is capable of encompassing the totality of existence in the same way as it is contained in the Preserved Tablet; and (4) the notion that the divine word constitutes the supreme reality of human nature, which makes it possible to erase the boundary that separates the creature from its creator and thereby achieve a cognitive and experiential union between them (ibid., 520-1). Finally, Ibn Barrajan restricts this superior realization of the divine word to a small group of divinely elected individuals, whom he identifies as “the veracious ones” (siddiqun). His bold ideas were elaborated upon and brought to fruition in the legacy of Ibn al-ʿArabi and his school.
Ibn al-ʿArabi’s uses of the Qurʾan are rich and variegated. He claims to have composed a multi-volume commentary on the Qurʾan entitled al-Jamiʿ wa-l-tafsil fi asrar maʿani l-tanzil, which seems to have been lost. On the other hand, his entire work, including his major masterpieces — Fusus al-ḥikam and al-Futuḥat al-makkiyya — may be seen as a giant running commentary on the foundational texts of Islam, the Qurʾan and the sunna of the Prophet. His overall approach to the Qurʾan must be considered in the general context of his thought which is characterized by the belief that the true realities of God and the universe are concealed from ordinary human beings behind a distorting veil of images and appearances. These true realities, however, can be rendered accessible to the elect few through a spiritual awakening and special intellectual insight or “unveiling” (kashf) bestowed upon them by God. Ibn al-ʿArabi calls the possessors of this insight “the people of the true reality” (ahl al-ḥaqiqa), or “divine gnostics” (ʿarifun). They and only they can decipher the true meaning of the symbols that constitute both the qurʾanic text and the entities and phenomena of the empirical universe, which are likened by Ibn al-ʿArabi to a giant book. For him, both the Qurʾan and the universe are but “books” of God — assemblages of symbols and images behind which lie the ultimate realities of existence that, in the final account, take their origin in and are somehow identical to the divine reality (al-ḥaqq). The deciphering of these symbols and images becomes possible through God’s revelatory manifestations (tajalli) to his elect “friends” and through their ability to perceive their hidden meaning by means of their imaginative faculties.
Since Ibn al-ʿArabi considered himself to be the greatest ʿarif of his age (and possibly of all times) and the spiritual “pole” (al-quṭb) of the universe, he saw no reason to legitimize his understanding of the meaning of the scripture or — as he put it, of its “spirit” (ruḥ) — by reference to any prior exegetical authority or tradition. In his opinion, he is absolved of such a justification because his “epistemic source” is nothing other than divine inspiration (Nettler, Sufi metaphysics, 29). This attitude is evident from his poetic commentaries on selected qurʾanic suras included in his poetic collection (Diwan, 136-79). Here Ibn al-ʿArabi offers an exegesis aimed at bringing out the “spiritual quintessence” (ruḥ) of these suras. In so doing, he deliberately relegates his role to that of a simple transmitter of the outpourings of divinely induced insights that are dictated to him in the “mystical moment” (warid al-waqt) in which he happens to find himself. He is adamant that he has added nothing to what he has received from this divine source of inspiration (Bachmann, Un commentaire, 503). His use of poetry — an art associated with pre-Islamic paganism — and his occasional imitation of the meter and rhythm of qurʾanic chapters no doubt raised many scholarly eyebrows, both during his lifetime and after his death. So did his radical departure from the conventions of traditional exegesis. Thus in elucidating the “spirit” of the Fatiḥa Ibn al-ʿArabi boldly and somewhat incongruously refers to God as “a light not like any other light” — a clear allusion to the Light Verse (ayat al-nur, Q 24:35) — then proceeds to discuss its implications, which have little to do with the sura that he is supposedly discussing (Bachmann, Un commentaire, 505).
His claim to be a simple mouthpiece of the divine inspirer absolves him, however, of the necessity to justify his exegetical method or to follow any conventional logic. This inspirational exegesis, according to Ibn al-ʿArabi, assures absolute certainty in interpretation of the divine word and overrules all alternative understandings of it. Ibn al-ʿArabi also revisits Q 24:35 in many passages of his magnum opus, al-Futuḥat al-makkiyya. Here his interpretation of this verse reveals three distinct levels of understanding of its meaning: the metaphysical and cosmological, the analogical (built around the implicit correspondences between the universe and the human individual) and the existential-experiential based on the notion — so dear to Ibn al-ʿArabi — of the underlying unity (and union) of God, humankind and the universe (Gril, Le commentaire, 180). In Fusus al-ḥikam — Ibn al-ʿArabi’s controversial meditation on the phenomenon of prophethood and its major representatives — his uses of the qurʾanic text are particularly bold and challenging (the same is true of his uses of the sunna). The Qurʾan radically and dramatically reinterpreted by the Sufi master serves as a showcase for his monistic metaphysics. Moreover, for Ibn al-ʿArabi his monistic vision of God, humankind and the universe constitutes the very truth and ultimate meaning of the qurʾanic revelation (Nettler, Sufi metaphysics, 13-14). In the Fusus, the traditional exegetical lore associated with the prophets and other individuals mentioned in the qurʾanic text is inextricably intertwined with “an extremely abstruse ‘Sufi metaphysics,’” which for Ibn al-ʿArabi presumably reflected its inner, essential, truth (ibid., 14). This kind of exegesis is so distinctive and unique that it “may be considered an Islamic religious genre in its own right” that can be dubbed” Sufi metaphysical story-telling” (ibid.).
As an example of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s exegetical method, one can cite his audacious rendition of the story of Aaron (q.v.), Moses and the golden calf (Q 7:148-55 and Q 20:85-94). Here — contrary to the literal meaning of the qurʾanic narrative — Aaron and the worshippers of the golden calf are portrayed as being wiser than Moses’ who misguidedly scolds them for lapsing into idolatry. Unlike Moses’ they realize that God can be worshipped in every object, for every object, including the golden calf, is but “a site of divine self-manifestation” (baʿḍ al-majali l-ilahiyya; Fusus, 192; Nettler, Sufi metaphysics, 53). In this interpretation, the original qurʾanic condemnation of idolatry is completely inverted: the idolaters become “gnostics,” who
know the full truth concerning idolatry, but are honor-bound not to disclose this truth, even to the prophets, the apostles and their heirs, for these all have their divinely-appointed roles in curbing idolatry and promoting the worship of God in their time and their situation (Nettler, Sufi metaphysics, 67).
The ultimate truth, however, is that God is immanent to all things and can be worshipped everywhere. Here, and throughout the Fusus, Ibn al-ʿArabi’s unitive, monistic vision of God and the world is presented within the framework of qurʾanic narratives (q.v.) pertaining to the vicissitudes of the prophetic missions of the past. For him, however, this is not his personal vision but the true and unadulterated meaning of the divine word (ibid., 94).
The major themes of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s legacy were explored and elucidated by his foremost disciple, Sadr al-Din al-Qunawi (d. 673/1274), the author of numerous influential works on theoretical Sufism. His major exegetical work, Ijaz al-bayan fi taʾwil al-Qurʾan, is a lengthy disquisition on the metaphysical, epistemological and psychological implications of the first sura of the Qurʾan based on the assumption that it constitutes the very gist of the revelation. The author’s indebtedness to Ibn al-ʿArabi is obvious from the outset, when he states that
God made the primeval macrocosm (al-ʿalam al-kabir) — from the viewpoint of its [outward] form — a book carrying the images of the divine names … and he [God] made the perfect man — who is but a microcosm (al-ʿalam al-saghir) — an intermediate book from the viewpoint of [its] form, which combines in itself the presence of the names and the presence of the named [i.e. God]. He also revealed the great Qurʾan as a guidance to the human being — who is fashioned in his image — in order to explain the hidden aspect of his way, the secret of his sura and of his rank (Qunawi, al-Tafsir, 98).
Al-Qunawi identifies five levels and realms of existence and their correspondence to the five layers of meaning of the divine word. For the exegete, this task of identification is much more important than the minutia of conventional tafsir with which he claims to have deliberately dispensed (ibid., 103). Al-Qunawi’s emphasis on the hierarchies of the divine names and their ontological counterparts (realms of existence) constitutes probably the most distinguishing feature of this highly technical and recondite mystical commentary, which came to characterize the intellectual legacy of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s school of thought as a whole.
In ʿAbd al-Razzaq Kamal al-Din al-Qashani (d. 730/1329), a native of the Iranian province of Jibal, we find another scholar fully committed to Ibn al-ʿArabi’s spiritual and intellectual legacy, while remaining an original mystical thinker in his own right. Not only did al-Qashani distinguish himself as an advocate of his great predecessor but also as an effective disseminator of the latter’s mystical teaching which by that time had come to be known as “the doctrine of the unity/oneness of being/existence” (waḥdat al-wujud). As a promoter of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s ideas, his main achievement lies in his ability to strip them of their original ambiguity, and open-endedness and to present them in a lucid and accessible form to anyone who cared to learn them. Al-Qashani excelled in this task to such an extent that his popular mystical commentary, originally titled Taʾwil al-Qurʾan, was for several centuries considered by many to be a work of Ibn al-ʿArabi himself. In fact, its latest edition, which appeared in Beirut in 1968, was entitled Tafsir al-Qurʾan al-karim lil-shaykh al-akbar … IbnʿArabi. A systematic and clear-headed thinker, al-Qashani provides a detailed self-reflective exposition of his exegetical method in the introduction to his commentary. Citing a famous prophetic ḥadith according to which each qurʾanic verse has two aspects — the “outward” (ẓahr) and the “inward” (baṭn) — al-Qashani identifies the understanding of the former as tafsir and of the latter as taʾwil (Qashani, Taʾwil, i, 4). His own interpretation is consistently identified as taʾwil throughout the rest of his work. This indicates that by his time the rigid tafsir/taʿwil dichotomy, which does not seem to have existed in the earlier periods — both al-Ṭabari and al-Bayḍawi (d. prob. 716/1316) had no compunctions about applying the word taʾwil to their conventional commentaries — had become widespread, at least in some Sufi circles (cf. however, Shah Wali Allah, who defined taʾwil as a regular historical and contextual commentary; Baljon, Religion and thought, 141). In a revealing passage from the introduction to his Taʾwil al-Qashani describes his personal relationship with the qurʾanic revelation which, in a sense, epitomizes the Sufi stance vis-à-vis the divine word:
For a long time I made the recitation (tilawa) of the Qurʾan my habit and custom and meditated on its meaning with the [full] strength of my faith. Yet, despite my assiduousness at reciting passages from it (al-awrad), my chest was constrained, my soul troubled and my heart remained closed to it. However, my lord did not divert me from this recitation until I had grown accustomed and habituated to it and begun to taste the sweetness of its cup and its drink. It was then that I felt invigorated, my breast opened up, my conscience expanded, my heart was at ease, and my innermost self liberated … by these revelations. Then there appeared to me from behind the veil the meanings of every verse such that my tongue was incapable of describing, no capacity able to determine and count, and no power could resist unveiling and disclosure” (Taʾwil, i, 4).
Unlike the authors of “moderate” Sufi commentaries discussed above, al-Qashani consciously ignores those passages of the Qurʾan that, in his view, are not susceptible to esoteric interpretation (kull ma la yaqbalu al-taʾwilʿindi aw la yaḥtaju ilayhi). With more than five centuries of Sufi exegesis behind him, al-Qashani no longer feels obligated to pay tribute to the trivia of conventional tafsir and focuses only on those aspects of the sacred text that resonate with his esoteric vision of the world. Even some favorite “Sufi” verses such as Q 7:172 and Q 85:22 are passed over in silence, perhaps because al-Qashani feels that their interpretative potential has been exhausted by his predecessors (Lory, Commentaires, 31). Addressed to his fellow Sufis, “the people of [supersensory] unveiling” (ahl al-kashf), al-Qashani’s exegesis brims with classical Sufi terminology and themes borrowed from Ibn al-ʿArabi’s monistic ideas and imagery. In many cases, this terminology is not explained, presupposing its prior knowledge by the reader (ibid., 30). Al-Qashani is completely at home in dealing with all major levels of exegesis established by his predecessors: the monistic metaphysics with its tripartite division of being into the empirical realm (ʿalam alshahada), the intermediate realm of divine power (al-jabarut) and the purely spiritual realm of divine sovereignty (al-malakut); the parallelism and correspondence between the universe (the macrocosm) and its human counterpart (the microcosm); the major stages and spiritual states of the mystic’s progress to God; the symbolism of the letters of the Arabic alphabet; numerology (q.v.); etc. As a typical example of his method one may his cite his glosses on Q 17:1:
“Glory be to him, who carried his servant,” that is — [who] purified him from material attributes and deficiencies associated with [his] creation by means of the tongue of the spiritual state of disengagement [from the created world] (al-tajarrud) and perfection at the station of [absolute] servanthood … — “by night” — that is, in the darkness of bodily coverings and natural attachments, for the ascension and rise cannot occur except by means of a body — “from the holy mosque” — that is, from the station of the heart that is protected from the circumambulation of the polytheism of carnal drives … (Taʾwil, i, 705).
In this passage and throughout, the correspondences between qurʾanic images and Sufi psychology, epistemology and ontology are clearly and firmly established, leaving little room for the ambiguity of reference and referent and a general opacity of meaning that characterize the works of Ibn al-ʿArabi. One can thus conclude that in al-Qashani’s commentary the esoteric exegesis of the previous centuries receives a succinct, systematic — perhaps overly-systematic — and lucid articulation. The exegetical method derived from Ibn al-ʿArabi and his predecessors has become stabilized. Its subsequent rearticulation by such later Sufis as Badr al-Din Simawi (d. 820/1420), Ismail Ḥaqqi (d. 1137/1725), Shah Wali Allah (d. 1176/1762), and Ibn Ajiba (d. 1224/1809) — to name but a few — evinces a remarkable continuity that may be construed by some as a lack of originality. In the case of the last two authors, mystical exegesis is offered alongside other types of commentary, of which Ibn Ajiba, for example, cites as many as eleven in his al-Baḥr al-madid (i, 129-31). His tafsir demonstrates his equal facility with both esoteric and exoteric commentary, without privileging either one of them (Michon, Le soufi, 88-9).
While the tradition of Qurʾan interpretation associated with the central Asian Sufi master Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 618/1221) and his followers Najm al-Din Daya [al-] Razi (d. 654/1256) and Ala al-Dawla Simnani (d. 736/1336) is often treated as a separate school of Sufi exegesis (e.g. Böwering, Sufi hermeneutics, 257), this perception has more to do with two different spiritual and intellectual lineages than with differences in their approaches to the Qurʾan. Unlike the Sufi commentaries discussed above, we are dealing here with what amounts to a collective exegetical work that was started by Kubra, continued by Daya [al-]Razi and completed by Simnani, although “it is possible that there are two different continuations to Kubra’s commentary, one by Simnani and the other by Daya” (Elias, Throne carrier, 205). “It is also conceivable that Daya revised Kubra’s commentary” (ibid.). In any event, this commentary remains unpublished and our knowledge of its contents is derived from a recent Western study of Simnani’s oeuvre by Jamal Elias (ibid., 107-10).
As with earlier Sufi exegetes, Simnani spoke of “four levels of meaning [of the Qurʾan] corresponding to four levels of existence” (ibid., 108). Its exoteric dimension corresponds to the realm of “humanity” (nasut); its esoteric dimension to the realm of divine sovereignty (malakut); its limit (ḥadd) relates to the realm of divine omnipotence (jabarut); and its point of ascent, or anagoge (maṭlaʿ/muṭṭalaʿ) corresponds to the realm of divinity (lahut, ibid., 108). These realms, in turn, correspond to four levels of the human understanding of the Qurʾan — that of the ordinary believer (muslim), who relies upon his faculty of hearing; that of the faithful one (Muʾmin), who relies on divine inspiration; that of the righteous one (muḥsin), who should not disclose what he understands except with divine permission (idhn); and, finally, the [direct] witness (shahid) whose understanding is so sublime that he should refrain from disclosing it to anyone for fear of confusion and sedition (ibid.). God’s purpose in sending his revelation is to cleanse the hearts and souls of human beings from mundane distractions and thereby lead them to salvation. To this end, he has supplied them with special faculties or “subtle centers” (laṭaʾif) that orient them toward God and, eventually, lead the elect few of them to “a complete revelation of the true nature of reality” (ibid., 85).
Finally, mention should be made of the exegesis that combines esoteric exegesis and mystical metaphysics with Shiʿi theology. Here one thinks primarily of the exegetical works by Ḥaydar-i Amuli (d. after 787/1385) — who consistently sought to integrate Ibn al-ʿArabi’s ideas and exegetical methods into the Shiʿi intellectual universe — and Mulla Sadra (d. 1050/1640) and his school, including what appears to be an extremely rare, if not unique, example of a mystical commentary written by a female scholar from Iran named Nusrat bt. Muḥammad Amin, better known as Banu-yi Isfahani (d. 1403/1982; Ayazi, Mufassirun, 310-15, 629-33; amuli, Jamiʿ al-asrar; Mulla Sadra, Asrar al-ayat; Amin, Tafsir-i makhzan).
This survey does not discuss the development of Sufi exegesis in modern times, which in Western scholarship remains largely a terra incognita. For some representative works of this genre see Ayazi, Mufassirun, 833.