Hamza Yusuf In the Midst of the Dajjal Part

How the Holy Quran was Compiled

 Sheikh Hamza Yusuf

Men and Women in Islam Part 1

Men and Women in Islam Part 1

Men and Women in Islam Part 2

Men and Women in Islam Part3

Men and Women in Islam Part 4

Men and Women in Islam Part 5

Men and Women in Islam Part 6

Men and Women in Islam Part 7

Slap

One day Mullah Nasruddin was walking on the street, when a total stranger came up to him and slapped him on the back of his neck. 
The Mullah demanded some kind of rectification.
But the man was unapologetic.
He had thought the Mullah was a good friend of his, whom he was accustomed to greeting with such gesture.

'It is not an incidence of great significance,' he said to the Mullah `I thought you were my friend, I shouldn't be paying for such a small mistake.'
Mullah Nasruddin was not convinced.
He was wronged and he had to receive the damages.
Since the discussion was going nowhere, they decided to consult the kadi.
However, unbeknownst to the Mullah, the man and the kadi were friends.

The kadi listened to them both, and although it looked like the Mullah was right, he was still determined to get his friend out of this without having to pay a penalty.

'Mullah is right,' the kadi said, winking to his friend, `you have to pay him a gold coin.'
The friend, reassured with kadi's wink, said that he didn't have a gold coin on him but if they waited a few minutes, he would go and get it.
Kadi allowed him to go fetch the money and Mullah Nasruddin started to wait.
After waiting quite a while, and recalling the familiarity between the kadi and the man, the Mullah figured out that he was tricked and that the man was never going to come back.
He approached the kadi and startled him with a forceful slap on the back of his neck.

`Mullah, what did you do that for?' the kadi said in pain.

`Kadi, I am a little late for my errands, I can't wait any longer. When the man comes back, you take the gold coin!'

Jihad: its significance and understanding in Islam - Sh Habib Ali Al Jifri & Sh Hamza Yusuf

Part I

Part II

Part III

 

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII

Imam Shaf'i's poem

ولما قسـا قلبي وضـاقت مذاهبي
جعلت الرجـاء مني لعفوك سلمــا
تعاظمني ذنبـي فلمـا قرنتــه
بعفوك ربي كان عـفوك أعظمــا
فما زلتَ ذا عفو عن الذنب لم تزل
تـجـود وتعـفو منة وتكرمـــا
فلولاك لـم يصمـد لإبلـيس عابد
فكيف وقد أغوى صفيك أدما
فيا ليت شعــري هل أصير لجنة
أهنـــا؟ وأمـا للسعير فأندما
فإن تنتـقـم مني فلست بآسي
ولو أدخلت روحي بجــرم جهنمـا
فإن تعف عني تعف عـن متمرد
ظلوم غشــوم قاسي القلب مجرما
ويذكر أيام مضت من شبابه
وما كان فيها بالجهالة أجرما
يقيم إذا ما الليل مد ضلامه
على نفسه من شدة الخوف مأتما
يقول حبيبي أنت سؤلي وغايتي
كفى بك للراجين سؤلا و مغنما
الست الذي غذيتني و هديتني
ولازلت منانا علي ومنعما
عسى من له الإحسان يغفر زلتي
ويستر أوزاري وما قد تقدما

When my heart hardened and my ways narrowed
My hope of your forgiveness toward you was my approach
I greatened my sin, yet when i compare it with your forgiveness
My Lord your forgiveness was greater
Yet, you forgive sins and still
Generously and gracefully bestow and forgive
Were it not You, none worshiper withstand against Satan
How and he already has lured Your chosen Adam
Alas! Would i be lead to paradise then I am a fortunate
Or a remorse to hell I am lead
Indeed not despaired if You avenged me
Or into the core of hell You brought my soul
And if you forgive me, a mutinous You forgive...
A wrongful unfair pitiless criminal...
He remembers the past youth days
And what crimes of ignorance were committed
Then, when the dark spread out
Fearfully he mourns himself
Saying my beloved you are my request and wish
Sufficient You are for the hopeful to ask and gain
Were not you who fed me and guided me?!
And still, You give me generously and bless me
May You, Whom my charity to Him, forgive me faults,
Pardon my sins and what came before

Nafisah the Ascetic - Mostafa Al-Badawi

Nafisah the Ascetic
Mostafa Al-Badawi

One of the most frequently visited shrines in Cairo is that of the beloved Sayyidah Nafisah. The mosque containing the tomb stands where her house once stood, in one of the oldest districts of Cairo, not far from the great citadel of Saladin and the Muqaam Hill. The thousands of men, women, and children who flock to visit her grave know, some by experieence, others by hearsay, and many intuitively, that her spiritual influence still remains powerful. One reaches the tomb by walking through the prayer area in the mosque, then down a long corridor, on the walls of which hang pictures of Mecca and Medina; her biography is inscribed on one panel, another panel shows her lineage, and others carry poems in her praise. On entering the corridor, one seldom fails to experience a powerful presence that induces awe, yet at the same time comforts and reassures. Indeed, anyone who sits long enough at the Sayyidah Nafisah Mosque is sure to hear stories of contemporary miraculous events attributed to her. She is a living presence whose impact is undeniable. Sayyidah (Lady) Nafisah was born in Mecca on Wednesday the eleventh of Rabi al-Awwal in the year 145 of the Hijrah, but she grew up in Medina. She was the daughter of Hasan, son of Zayd, son of Imam Hasan l, grandson of the Prophet . Her father was known as al-Hasan al-Anwar, which means “Hasan whose light is most powerful,” and her grandfather was known as Zayd al-Ablaj, which means “Zayd whose light is like that of dawn.” Hasan named his newborn daughter after his sister, Nafisah, who was known for her great sanctity. His sister had married an Umayyad, al-Walid b. Abd al-Malik, who was to become caliph, and who under her influence accomplished great things; made special arrangemments for looking after the poor, the weak, the orphans, and the blind; and prohibited begging. He also expanded and renovated the Prophet’s mosque in Medina. However, he was unacceptably tyrannical in other ways, and she sufffered unbearably in her compassion for the community; she eventually left him and spent the rest of her life in Egypt.

Source: Zaytuna.Org

Purchase: Seasons Vol. 4, No. 1 | Autumn 2007

Who are the rightly Guided Scholars

Eid al-Fitr 08 Khutbah (sermon) by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf

The Four Imams: Their lives, works and their Schools of Thought

The Four Imams: Their lives, works and their Schools of Thought
A book by Muhammad Abu Zahra

This book is a compilation of four books which deal with the lives and works of the four imams who founded the four great canonical schools of thought of Islamic fiqh. The book was originally written in Arabic by the great Egyptian scholar and theologian Muhammad Abu Zahra and is presented in English for the first time. In this book, there is a comprehensive, in depth analysis of the four Sunni madhabs and their founders, giving details of their biography and the methods they used in reaching their legal conclusions. This is particularly important important in the world today when many thousands of Muslims find themselves in a situation where there is not enough knowledge and therefore, no traditional allegiance to a particular madhab. As a result of this ignorance, there is also a great deal of futile disagreements amongst the Muslims. This work therefore has been long overdue in the English language and will be a milestone in bridging the gap amongst the Muslims and uniting them. It makes a stimulating and enriching read for all who are interested in deepening their knowledge of Islam.

        Brief Biographies of the Four Imams

Imam Malik - the first of the four great imams and founder of the Maliki school of thought. He lived his whole life in Madina where much of the Quran was revealed and most of the legal practices of Islam established. He spent his life studying, recording and clarifying the legal parameters and precedents which was passed down to him by the first two generations of Muslims who were the direct inheritors of the perfected form of Islam left by the Prophet (saw). This book not only gives the biographical details of the Imam's life but also puts it in its historical context and most importantly, shows us the methods he used in reaching his legal conclusions which played a vital part in preserving exactly the legacy of the pure Divine Guidance left by the Prophet and his Companions.

Imam Al Shafi - founder of the Shafi'i school of thought. He was remarkable in that he resolved the differences of opinion that arose in the still evolving Muslim community and brought them together in the most outstanding legal system in the whole history of mankind. This book looks at his life and traces the development of his thought. It talks of his teachers and his followers and shows how the system he devised grew out of the intellectual and political currents of his time. It also gives an in-depth historical analysis of the various movements and sects which formed the background to the Islamic world in which he lived.

Imam Abu Hanifa - died in 150 AH/767CE. He met the companions of the Prophet (saw) and is counted amongst the Tabi'un (followers). He is renowned for his piercing intellect as faqih, his scrupulousness, integrity of character and his resoluteness in the face of oppression. His school is historically associated with the rule in India and is the most widely followed school of thought. This makes his study particularly important for the English speaking readers since it gives them an in-depth appreciation of the school followed by the majority of the Muslims in the world.

Imam Ahmad Abn Hambal - chronologically the last of the four imams and lived just after the first three generations of exemplary Muslims, thus confronting a slightly different situation from that faced by his three predecessors. This necessitated a fresh approach to the legal issues arising out of the situation of the rapidly expanding urban development and imperial government which had started to engulf much of the Muslim community. The book shows how Imam Ahmad through his incredible personal integrity and scrupulous adherence to sound tradition was able to chart a course through a story period in which he lived. His example provided his followers with the legal bases of what later became the Hanbali madhab.

Following a Madhab - Hamza Yusuf explains Shaykh Murabtal Haaj's fatwa

Creed Of Imam Al Tahawi

Islamic spirituality - the forgotten revolution

Islamic spirituality - the forgotten revolution
By Shaykh Abdul-Hakim Murad  

The poverty of fanaticism

 

'Blood is no argument', as Shakespeare observed. Sadly, Muslim ranks are today swollen with those who disagree. The World Trade Centre, yesterday's symbol of global finance, has today become a monument to the failure of global Islam to control those who believe that the West can be bullied into changing its wayward ways towards the East. There is no real excuse to hand. It is simply not enough to clamour, as many have done, about 'chickens coming home to roost', and to protest that Washington's acquiescence in Israeli policies of ethnic cleansing is the inevitable generator of such hate. It is of course true - as Shabbir Akhtar has noted - that powerlessness can corrupt as insistently as does power. But to comprehend is not to sanction or even to empathize. To take innocent life to achieve a goal is the hallmark of the most extreme secular utilitarian ethic, and stands at the opposite pole of the absolute moral constraints required by religion.

 

There was a time, not long ago, when the 'ultras' were few, forming only a tiny wart on the face of the worldwide attempt to revivify Islam. Sadly, we can no longer enjoy the luxury of ignoring them. The extreme has broadened, and the middle ground, giving way, is everywhere dislocated and confused. And this enfeeblement of the middle ground, was what was enjoined by the Prophetic example, is in turn accelerated by the opprobrium which the extremists bring not simply upon themselves, but upon committed Muslims everywhere. For here, as elsewhere, the preferences of the media work firmly against us. David Koresh could broadcast his fringe Biblical message from Ranch Apocalypse without the image of Christianity, or even its Adventist wing, being in any way besmirched. But when a fringe Islamic group bombs Swedish tourists in Cairo, the muck is instantly spread over 'militant Muslims' everywhere.

 

If these things go on, the Islamic movement will cease to form an authentic summons to cultural and spiritual renewal, and will exist as little more than a splintered array of maniacal factions. The prospect of such an appalling and humiliating end to the story of a religion which once surpassed all others in its capacity for tolerating debate and dissent is now a real possibility. The entire experience of Islamic work over the past fifteen years has been one of increasing radicalization, driven by the perceived failure of the traditional Islamic institutions and the older Muslim movements to lead the Muslim peoples into the worthy but so far chimerical promised land of the 'Islamic State.'

 

If this final catastrophe is to be averted, the mainstream will have to regain the initiative. But for this to happen, it must begin by confessing that the radical critique of moderation has its force. The Islamic movement has so far been remarkably unsuccessful. We must ask ourselves how it is that a man like Nasser, a butcher, a failed soldier and a cynical demagogue, could have taken over a country as pivotal as Egypt, despite the vacuity of his beliefs, while the Muslim Brotherhood, with its pullulating millions of members, should have failed, and failed continuously, for six decades. The radical accusation of a failure in methodology cannot fail to strike home in such a context of dismal and prolonged inadequacy.

 

It is in this context - startlingly, perhaps, but inescapably - that we must present our case for the revival of the spiritual life within Islam. If it is ever to prosper, the 'Islamic revival' must be made to see that it is in crisis, and that its mental resources are proving insufficient to meet contemporary needs. The response to this must be grounded in an act of collective muhasaba, of self-examination, in terms that transcend the ideologised neo-Islam of the revivalists, and return to a more classical and indigenously Muslim dialectic.

 

Symptomatic of the disease is the fact that among all the explanations offered for the crisis of the Islamic movement, the only authentically Muslim interpretation, namely, that God should not be lending it His support, is conspicuously absent. It is true that we frequently hear the Quranic verse which states that "God does not change the condition of a people until they change the condition of their own selves." [1] But never, it seems, is this principle intelligently grasped. It is assumed that the sacred text is here doing no more than to enjoin individual moral reform as a precondition for collective societal success. Nothing could be more hazardous, however, than to measure such moral reform against the yardstick of the fiqh without giving concern to whether the virtues gained have been acquired through conformity (a relatively simple task), or proceed spontaneously from a genuine realignment of the soul. The verse is speaking of a spiritual change, specifically, a transformation of the nafs of the believers - not a moral one. And as the Blessed Prophet never tired of reminding us, there is little value in outward conformity to the rules unless this conformity is mirrored and engendered by an authentically righteous disposition of the heart. 'No-one shall enter the Garden by his works,' as he expressed it. Meanwhile, the profoundly judgemental and works - oriented tenor of modern revivalist Islam (we must shun the problematic buzz-word 'fundamentalism'), fixated on visible manifestations of morality, has failed to address the underlying question of what revelation is for. For it is theological nonsense to suggest that God's final concern is with our ability to conform to a complex set of rules. His concern is rather that we should be restored, through our labours and His grace, to that state of purity and equilibrium with which we were born. The rules are a vital means to that end, and are facilitated by it. But they do not take its place.

To make this point, the Holy Quran deploys a striking metaphor. In Sura Ibrahim, verses 24 to 26, we read:

Have you not seen how God coineth a likeness: a goodly word like a goodly tree, the root whereof is set firm, its branch in the heaven? It bringeth forth its fruit at every time, by the leave of its Lord. Thus doth God coin likenesses for men, that perhaps they may reflect. And the likeness of an evil word is that of an evil tree that hath been torn up by the root from upon the earth, possessed of no stability.

According to the scholars of tafsir (exegesis), the reference here is to the 'words' (kalima) of faith and unfaith. The former is illustrated as a natural growth, whose florescence of moral and intellectual achievement is nourished by firm roots, which in turn denote the basis of faith: the quality of the proofs one has received, and the certainty and sound awareness of God which alone signify that one is firmly grounded in the reality of existence. The fruits thus yielded - the palpable benefits of the religious life - are permanent ('at every time'), and are not man's own accomplishment, for they only come 'by the leave of its Lord'. Thus is the sound life of faith. The contrast is then drawn with the only alternative: kufr, which is not grounded in reality but in illusion, and is hence 'possessed of no stability'.[2]

 

This passage, reminiscent of some of the binary categorisations of human types presented early on in Surat al-Baqara, precisely encapsulates the relationship between faith and works, the hierarchy which exists between them, and the sustainable balance between nourishment and fructition, between taking and giving, which true faith must maintain.

 

It is against this criterion that we must judge the quality of contemporary 'activist' styles of faith. Is the young 'ultra', with his intense rage which can sometimes render him liable to nervous disorders, and his fixation on a relatively narrow range of issues and concerns, really firmly rooted, and fruitful, in the sense described by this Quranic image?

 

Let me point to the answer with an example drawn from my own experience.

I used to know, quite well, a leader of the radical 'Islamic' group, the Jama'at Islamiya, at the Egyptian university of Assiut. His name was Hamdi. He grew a luxuriant beard, was constantly scrubbing his teeth with his miswak, and spent his time preaching hatred of the Coptic Christians, a number of whom were actually attacked and beaten up as a result of his khutbas. He had hundreds of followers; in fact, Assiut today remains a citadel of hardline, Wahhabi-style activism.

The moral of the story is that some five years after this acquaintance, providence again brought me face to face with Shaikh Hamdi. This time, chancing to see him on a Cairo street, I almost failed to recognise him. The beard was gone. He was in trousers and a sweater. More astonishing still was that he was walking with a young Western girl who turned out to be an Australian, whom, as he sheepishly explained to me, he was intending to marry. I talked to him, and it became clear that he was no longer even a minimally observant Muslim, no longer prayed, and that his ambition in life was to leave Egypt, live in Australia, and make money. What was extraordinary was that his experiences in Islamic activism had made no impression on him - he was once again the same distracted, ordinary Egyptian youth he had been before his conversion to 'radical Islam'.

This phenomenon, which we might label 'salafi burnout', is a recognised feature of many modern Muslim cultures. An initial enthusiasm, gained usually in one's early twenties, loses steam some seven to ten years later. Prison and torture - the frequent lot of the Islamic radical - may serve to prolong commitment, but ultimately, a majority of these neo-Muslims relapse, seemingly no better or worse for their experience in the cult-like universe of the salafi mindset.

 

This ephemeral of extremist activism should be as suspicious as its content. Authentic Muslim faith is simply not supposed to be this fragile; as the Qur'an says, its root is meant to be 'set firm'. One has to conclude that of the two trees depicted in the Quranic image, salafi extremism resembles the second rather than the first. After all, the Sahaba were not known for a transient commitment: their devotion and piety remained incomparably pure until they died.

 

What attracts young Muslims to this type of ephemeral but ferocious activism? One does not have to subscribe to determinist social theories to realise the importance of the almost universal condition of insecurity which Muslim societies are now experiencing. The Islamic world is passing through a most devastating period of transition. A history of economic and scientific change which in Europe took five hundred years, is, in the Muslim world, being squeezed into a couple of generations. For instance, only thirty-five years ago the capital of Saudi Arabia was a cluster of mud huts, as it had been for thousands of years. Today's Riyadh is a hi-tech mega city of glass towers, Coke machines, and gliding Cadillacs. This is an extreme case, but to some extent the dislocations of modernity are common to every Muslim society, excepting, perhaps, a handful of the most remote tribal peoples.

 

Such a transition period, with its centrifugal forces which allow nothing to remain constant, makes human beings very insecure. They look around for something to hold onto, that will give them an identity. In our case, that something is usually Islam. And because they are being propelled into it by this psychic sense of insecurity, rather than by the more normal processes of conversion and faith, they lack some of the natural religious virtues, which are acquired by contact with a continuous tradition, and can never be learnt from a book.

 

One easily visualises how this works. A young Arab, part of an oversized family, competing for scarce jobs, unable to marry because he is poor, perhaps a migrant to a rapidly expanding city, feels like a man lost in a desert without signposts. One morning he picks up a copy of Sayyid Qutb from a newsstand, and is 'born-again' on the spot. This is what he needed: instant certainty, a framework in which to interpret the landscape before him, to resolve the problems and tensions of his life, and, even more deliciously, a way of feeling superior and in control. He joins a group, and, anxious to retain his newfound certainty, accepts the usual proposition that all the other groups are mistaken.

 

This, of course, is not how Muslim religious conversion is supposed to work. It is meant to be a process of intellectual maturation, triggered by the presence of a very holy person or place. Tawba, in its traditional form, yields an outlook of joy, contentment, and a deep affection for others. The modern type of tawba, however, born of insecurity, often makes Muslims narrow, intolerant, and exclusivist. Even more noticeably, it produces people whose faith is, despite its apparent intensity, liable to vanish as suddenly as it came. Deprived of real nourishment, the activist's soul can only grow hungry and emaciated, until at last it dies.

 

The activism within

 

How should we respond to this disorder? We must begin by remembering what Islam is for. As we noted earlier, our din is not, ultimately, a manual of rules which, when meticulously followed, becomes a passport to paradise. Instead, it is a package of social, intellectual and spiritual technology whose purpose is to cleanse the human heart. In the Qur'an, the Lord says that on the Day of Judgement, nothing will be of any use to us, except a sound heart (qalbun salim). [3] And in a famous hadith, the Prophet, upon whom be blessings and peace, says that

"Verily in the body there is a piece of flesh. If it is sound, the body is all sound. If it is corrupt, the body is all corrupt. Verily, it is the heart."

Mindful of this commandment, under which all the other commandments of Islam are subsumed, and which alone gives them meaning, the Islamic scholars have worked out a science, an ilm (science), of analysing the 'states' of the heart, and the methods of bringing it into this condition of soundness. In the fullness of time, this science acquired the name tasawwuf, in English 'Sufism' - a traditional label for what we might nowadays more intelligibly call 'Islamic psychology.'

At this point, many hackles are raised and well-rehearsed objections voiced. It is vital to understand that mainstream Sufism is not, and never has been, a doctrinal system, or a school of thought - a madhhab. It is, instead, a set of insights and practices which operate within the various Islamic madhhabs; in other words, it is not a madhhab, it is an ilm. And like most of the other Islamic ulum, it was not known by name, or in its later developed form, in the age of the Prophet (upon him be blessings and peace) or his Companions. This does not make it less legitimate. There are many Islamic sciences which only took shape many years after the Prophetic age: usul al-fiqh, for instance, or the innumerable technical disciplines of hadith.

 

Now this, of course, leads us into the often misunderstood area of sunna and bid'a, two notions which are wielded as blunt instruments by many contemporary activists, but which are often grossly misunderstood. The classic Orientalist thesis is of course that Islam, as an 'arid Semitic religion', failed to incorporate mechanisms for its own development, and that it petrified upon the death of its founder. This, however, is a nonsense rooted in the ethnic determinism of the nineteenth century historians who had shaped the views of the early Orientalist synthesizers (Muir, Le Bon, Renan, Caetani). Islam, as the religion designed for the end of time, has in fact proved itself eminently adaptable to the rapidly changing conditions which characterise this final and most 'entropic' stage of history.

 

What is a bid'a, according to the classical definitions of Islamic law? We all know the famous hadith:

Beware of matters newly begun, for every matter newly begun is innovation, every innovation is misguidance, and every misguidance is in Hell. [4]

Does this mean that everything introduced into Islam that was not known to the first generation of Muslims is to be rejected? The classical ulema do not accept such a literalistic interpretation.

Let us take a definition from Imam al-Shafi'i, an authority universally accepted in Sunni Islam. Imam al-Shafi'i writes:

There are two kinds of introduced matters (muhdathat). One is that which contradicts a text of the Qur'an, or the Sunna, or a report from the early Muslims (athar), or the consensus (ijma') of the Muslims: this is an 'innovation of misguidance' (bid'at dalala). The second kind is that which is in itself good and entails no contradiction of any of these authorities: this is a 'non-reprehensible innovation' (bid'a ghayr madhmuma). [5]

This basic distinction between acceptable and unacceptable forms of bid'a is recognised by the overwhelming majority of classical ulema. Among some, for instance al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam (one of the half-dozen or so great mujtahids of Islamic history), innovations fall under the five axiological headings of the Shari'a: the obligatory (wajib), the recommended (mandub), the permissible (mubah), the offensive (makruh), and the forbidden (haram).[6]

Under the category of 'obligatory innovation', Ibn Abd al-Salam gives the following examples: recording the Qur'an and the laws of Islam in writing at a time when it was feared that they would be lost, studying Arabic grammar in order to resolve controversies over the Qur'an, and developing philosophical theology (kalam) to refute the claims of the Mu'tazilites.

 

Category two is 'recommended innovation'. Under this heading the ulema list such activities as building madrasas, writing books on beneficial Islamic subjects, and in-depth studies of Arabic linguistics.

 

Category three is 'permissible', or 'neutral innovation', including worldly activities such as sifting flour, and constructing houses in various styles not known in Medina.

 

Category four is the 'reprehensible innovation'. This includes such misdemeanours as overdecorating mosques or the Qur'an.

 

Category five is the 'forbidden innovation'. This includes unlawful taxes, giving judgeships to those unqualified to hold them, and sectarian beliefs and practices that explicitly contravene the known principles of the Qur'an and the Sunna.

 

The above classification of bid'a types is normal in classical Shari'a literature, being accepted by the four schools of orthodox fiqh. There have been only two significant exceptions to this understanding in the history of Islamic thought: the Zahiri school as articulated by Ibn Hazm, and one wing of the Hanbali madhhab, represented by Ibn Taymiya, who goes against the classical ijma' on this issue, and claims that all forms of innovation, good or bad, are un-Islamic.

Why is it, then, that so many Muslims now believe that innovation in any form is unacceptable in Islam? One factor has already been touched on: the mental complexes thrown up by insecurity, which incline people to find comfort in absolutist and literalist interpretations. Another lies in the influence of the well-financed neo-Hanbali madhhab called Wahhabism, whose leaders are famous for their rejection of all possibility of development.

In any case, armed with this more sophisticated and classical awareness of Islam's ability to acknowledge and assimilate novelty, we can understand how Muslim civilisation was able so quickly to produce novel academic disciplines to deal with new problems as these arose.

Islamic psychology is characteristic of the new ulum which, although present in latent and implicit form in the Quran, were first systematized in Islamic culture during the early Abbasid period. Given the importance that the Quran attaches to obtaining a 'sound heart', we are not surprised to find that the influence of Islamic psychology has been massive and all-pervasive. In the formative first four centuries of Islam, the time when the great works of tafsir, hadith, grammar, and so forth were laid down, the ulema also applied their minds to this problem of al-qalb al-salim. This was first visible when, following the example of the Tabi'in, many of the early ascetics, such as Sufyan ibn Uyayna, Sufyan al-Thawri, and Abdallah ibn al-Mubarak, had focussed their concerns explicitly on the art of purifying the heart. The methods they recommended were frequent fasting and night prayer, periodic retreats, and a preoccupation with murabata: service as volunteer fighters in the border castles of Asia Minor.

 

This type of pietist orientation was not in the least systematic during this period. It was a loose category embracing all Muslims who sought salvation through the Prophetic virtues of renunciation, sincerity, and deep devotion to the revelation. These men and women were variously referred to as al-bakka'un: 'the weepers', because of their fear of the Day of Judgement, or as zuhhad, ascetics, or ubbad, 'unceasing worshippers'.

 

By the third century, however, we start to find writings which can be understood as belonging to a distinct devotional school. The increasing luxury and materialism of Abbasid urban society spurred many Muslims to campaign for a restoration of the simplicity of the Prophetic age. Purity of heart, compassion for others, and a constant recollection of God were the defining features of this trend. We find references to the method of muhasaba: self-examination to detect impurities of intention. Also stressed was riyada: self-discipline.

 

By this time, too, the main outlines of Quranic psychology had been worked out. The human creature, it was realised, was made up of four constituent parts: the body (jism), the mind (aql), the spirit (ruh), and the self (nafs). The first two need little comment. Less familiar (at least to people of a modern education) are the third and fourth categories.

The spirit is the ruh, that underlying essence of the human individual which survives death. It is hard to comprehend rationally, being in part of Divine inspiration, as the Quran says:

"And they ask you about the spirit; say, the spirit is of the command of my Lord. And you have been given of knowledge only a little."[7]

According to the early Islamic psychologists, the ruh is a non-material reality which pervades the entire human body, but is centred on the heart, the qalb. It represents that part of man which is not of this world, and which connects him with his Creator, and which, if he is fortunate, enables him to see God in the next world. When we are born, this ruh is intact and pure. As we are initiated into the distractions of the world, however, it is covered over with the 'rust' (ran) of which the Quran speaks. This rust is made up of two things: sin and distraction. When, through the process of self-discipline, these are banished, so that the worshipper is preserved from sin and is focussing entirely on the immediate presence and reality of God, the rust is dissolved, and the ruh once again is free. The heart is sound; and salvation, and closeness to God, are achieved.

This sounds simple enough. However, the early Muslims taught that such precious things come only at an appropriate price. Cleaning up the Augean stables of the heart is a most excruciating challenge. Outward conformity to the rules of religion is simple enough; but it is only the first step. Much more demanding is the policy known as mujahada: the daily combat against the lower self, the nafs. As the Quran says:

'As for him that fears the standing before his Lord, and forbids his nafs its desires, for him, Heaven shall be his place of resort.'[8]

Hence the Sufi commandment:

'Slaughter your ego with the knives of mujahada.' [9]

Once the nafs is controlled, then the heart is clear, and the virtues proceed from it easily and naturally.

Because its objective is nothing less than salvation, this vital Islamic science has been consistently expounded by the great scholars of classical Islam. While today there are many Muslims, influenced by either Wahhabi or Orientalist agendas, who believe that Sufism has always led a somewhat marginal existence in Islam, the reality is that the overwhelming majority of the classical scholars were actively involved in Sufism.

The early Shafi'i scholars of Khurasan: al-Hakim al-Nisaburi, Ibn Furak, al-Qushayri and al-Bayhaqi, were all Sufis who formed links in the richest academic tradition of Abbasid Islam, which culminated in the achievement of Imam Hujjat al-Islam al-Ghazali. Ghazali himself, author of some three hundred books, including the definitive rebuttals of Arab philosophy and the Ismailis, three large textbooks of Shafi'i fiqh, the best-known tract of usul al-fiqh, two works on logic, and several theological treatises, also left us with the classic statement of orthodox Sufism: the Ihya Ulum al-Din, a book of which Imam Nawawi remarked:

"Were the books of Islam all to be lost, excepting only the Ihya', it would suffice to replace them all." [10]

Imam Nawawi himself wrote two books which record his debt to Sufism, one called the Bustan al-Arifin ('Garden of the Gnostics', and another called the al-Maqasid (recently published in English translation, Sunna Books, Evanston Il. trans. Nuh Ha Mim Keller).

Among the Malikis, too, Sufism was popular. Al-Sawi, al-Dardir, al-Laqqani and Abd al-Wahhab al-Baghdadi were all exponents of Sufism. The Maliki jurist of Cairo, Abd al-Wahhab al-Sha'rani defines Sufism as follows:

'The path of the Sufis is built on the Quran and the Sunna, and is based on living according to the morals of the prophets and the purified ones. It may not be blamed, unless it violates an explicit statement from the Quran, sunna, or ijma. If it does not contravene any of these sources, then no pretext remains for condemning it, except one's own low opinion of others, or interpreting what they do as ostentation, which is unlawful. No-one denies the states of the Sufis except someone ignorant of the way they are.'[11]

For Hanbali Sufism one has to look no further than the revered figures of Abdallah Ansari, Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, Ibn al-Jawzi, and Ibn Rajab.

 

In fact, virtually all the great luminaries of medieval Islam: al-Suyuti, Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani, al-Ayni, Ibn Khaldun, al-Subki, Ibn Hajar al-Haytami; tafsir writers like Baydawi, al-Sawi, Abu'l-Su'ud, al-Baghawi, and Ibn Kathir[12] ; aqida writers such as Taftazani, al-Nasafi, al-Razi: all wrote in support of Sufism. Many, indeed, composed independent works of Sufi inspiration. The ulema of the great dynasties of Islamic history, including the Ottomans and the Moghuls, were deeply infused with the Sufi outlook, regarding it as one of the most central and indispensable of Islamic sciences.

 

Further confirmation of the Islamic legitimacy of Sufism is supplied by the enthusiasm of its exponents for carrying Islam beyond the boundaries of the Islamic world. The Islamization process in India, Black Africa, and South-East Asia was carried out largely at the hands of wandering Sufi teachers. Likewise, the Islamic obligation of jihad has been borne with especial zeal by the Sufi orders. All the great nineteenth century jihadists: Uthman dan Fodio (Hausaland), al-Sanousi (Libya), Abd al-Qadir al-Jaza'iri (Algeria), Imam Shamil (Daghestan) and the leaders of the Padre Rebellion (Sumatra) were active practitioners of Sufism, writing extensively on it while on their campaigns. Nothing is further from reality, in fact, than the claim that Sufism represents a quietist and non-militant form of Islam.

 

With all this, we confront a paradox. Why is it, if Sufism has been so respected a part of Muslim intellectual and political life throughout our history, that there are, nowadays, angry voices raised against it? There are two fundamental reasons here.

Firstly, there is again the pervasive influence of Orientalist scholarship, which, at least before 1922 when Massignon wrote his Essai sur les origines de la lexique technique, was of the opinion that something so fertile and profound as Sufism could never have grown from the essentially 'barren and legalistic' soil of Islam. Orientalist works translated into Muslim languages were influential upon key Muslim modernists - such as Muhammad Abduh in his later writings - who began to question the centrality, or even the legitimacy, of Sufi discourse in Islam.

Secondly, there is the emergence of the Wahhabi da'wa. When Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab, some two hundred years ago, teamed up with the Saudi tribe and attacked the neighbouring clans, he was doing so under the sign of an essentially neo-Kharijite version of Islam. Although he invoked Ibn Taymiya, he had reservations even about him. For Ibn Taymiya himself, although critical of the excesses of certain Sufi groups, had been committed to a branch of mainstream Sufism. This is clear, for instance, in Ibn Taymiya's work Sharh Futuh al-Ghayb, a commentary on some technical points in the Revelations of the Unseen, a key work by the sixth-century saint of Baghdad, Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani. Throughout the work Ibn Taymiya shows himself to be a loyal disciple of al-Jilani, whom he always refers to as shaykhuna ('our teacher'). This Qadiri affiliation is confirmed in the later literature of the Qadiri tariqa, which records Ibn Taymiya as a key link in the silsila, the chain of transmission of Qadiri teachings.[13]

 

Ibn Abd al-Wahhab, however, went far beyond this. Raised in the wastelands of Najd in Central Arabia, he had little access to mainstream Muslim scholarship. In fact, when his da'wa appeared and became notorious, the scholars and muftis of the day applied to it the famous Hadith of Najd:

Ibn Umar reported the Prophet (upon whom be blessings and peace) as saying: "Oh God, bless us in our Syria; O God, bless us in our Yemen." Those present said: "And in our Najd, O Messenger of God!" but he said, "O God, bless us in our Syria; O God, bless us in our Yemen." Those present said, "And in our Najd, O Messenger of God!". Ibn Umar said that he thought that he said on the third occasion: "Earthquakes and dissensions (fitna) are there, and there shall arise the horn of the devil."[14]

And it is significant that almost uniquely among the lands of Islam, Najd has never produced scholars of any repute.

 

The Najd-based da'wa of the Wahhabis, however, began to be heard more loudly following the explosion of Saudi oil wealth. Many, even most, Islamic publishing houses in Cairo and Beirut are now subsidised by Wahhabi organisations, which prevent them from publishing traditional works on Sufism, and remove passages in other works considered unacceptable to Wahhabist doctrine.

The neo-Kharijite nature of Wahhabism makes it intolerant of all other forms of Islamic expression. However, because it has no coherent fiqh of its own - it rejects the orthodox madhhabs - and has only the most basic and primitively anthropomorphic aqida, it has a fluid, amoebalike tendency to produce divisions and subdivisions among those who profess it. No longer are the Islamic groups essentially united by a consistent madhhab and the Ash'ari [or Maturidi] aqida. Instead, they are all trying to derive the shari'a and the aqida from the Quran and the Sunna by themselves. The result is the appalling state of division and conflict which disfigures the modern salafi condition.

At this critical moment in our history, the umma has only one realistic hope for survival, and that is to restore the 'middle way', defined by that sophisticated classical consensus which was worked out over painful centuries of debate and scholarship. That consensus alone has the demonstrable ability to provide a basis for unity. But it can only be retrieved when we improve the state of our hearts, and fill them with the Islamic virtues of affection, respect, tolerance and reconciliation. This inner reform, which is the traditional competence of Sufism, is a precondition for the restoration of unity in the Islamic movement. The alternative is likely to be continued, and agonising, failure.

 

NOTES

1. Sura 13:11.
2. For a further analysis of this passage, see Habib Ahmad Mashhur al-Haddad, Key to the Garden (Quilliam Press, London 1990 CE), 78-81.
3. Sura 26:89. The archetype is Abrahamic: see Sura 37:84.
4. This hadith is in fact an instance of takhsis al-amm: a frequent procedure of usul al-fiqh by which an apparently unqualified statement is qualified to avoid the contradiction of another necessary principle. See Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri, Reliance of the Traveller, tr. Nuh Ha Mim Keller (Abu Dhabi, 1991 CE), 907-8 for some further examples.
5. Ibn Asakir, Tabyin Kadhib al-Muftari (Damascus, 1347), 97.
6. Cited in Muhammad al-Jurdani, al-Jawahir al-lu'lu'iyya fi sharh al-Arba'in al-Nawawiya (Damascus, 1328), 220-1.
7. 17:85.
8. 79:40.
9. al-Qushayri, al-Risala (Cairo, n.d.), I, 393.
10. al-Zabidi, Ithaf al-sada al-muttaqin (Cairo, 1311), I, 27.
11. Sha'rani, al-Tabaqat al-Kubra (Cairo, 1374), I, 4.
12. It is true that Ibn Kathir in his Bidaya is critical of some later Sufis. Nonetheless, in his Mawlid, which he asked his pupils to recite on the occasion of the Blessed Prophet's birthday each year, he makes his personal debt to a conservative and sober Sufism quite clear.
13. See G. Makdisi's article 'Ibn Taymiyya: A Sufi of the Qadiriya Order' in the American Journal of Arabic Studies, 1973.
14. Narrated by Bukhari. The translation is from J. Robson, Mishkat al-Masabih (Lahore, 1970), II, 1380.

Ikhtilaf - (differences) among the Madhhabs in Islam Differences of Opinion are a Mercy

Ikhtilaf - (differences) among the Madhhabs in Islam
Differences of Opinion are a Mercy
By Dr. G. Fouad Haddad

1. Al-Hafiz al-Bayhaqi in his book "al-Madkhal" and al-Zarkashi in his "Tadhkirah fi al-ahadith al-mushtaharah" relate: Imam al-Qasim ibn Muhammad ibn Abi Bakr al-Siddiq said: "The differences among the Companions of Muhammad (s) are a mercy for Allah's servants. Al-Hafiz al-`Iraqi the teacher of Ibn Hajar al-`Asqalani said: "This is a saying of al-Qasim ibn Muhammad who said: 'The difference of opinion among the Companions of Muhammad (s) is a mercy.

2. Al-Hafiz Ibn al-Athir in the introduction to his "Jami` al-usul fi ahadith al-rasul" relates the above saying from Imam Malik according to al-Hafiz Ibn al-Mulaqqin in his "Tuhfat al-muhtaj ila adillat al-Minhaj" and Ibn al-Subki in his "Tabaqat al-Shafi`iyya."

3. Bayhaqi and Zarkashi also said: Qutada said: "'Umar ibn `Abd al-`Aziz used to say: 'It would not please me more if the Companions of Muhammad (s) did not differ among them, because had they not differed there would be no leeway (for us).'"

4. Bayhaqi also relates in "al-Madkhal" and Zarkashi in the "Tadhkira": Al-Layth ibn Sa`d said on the authority of Yahya ibn Sa`id: "the people of knowledge are the people of flexibility (tawsi`a). Those who give fatwas never cease to differ, and so this one permits something while that one forbids it, without one finding fault with the other when he knows of his position."

5. Al-Hafiz al-Sakhawi said in his "Maqasid al-hasana" p. 49 #39 after quoting the above: "I have read the following written in my shaykh's (al-Hafiz ibn Hajar) handwriting: 'The hadith of Layth is a reference to a very famous hadith of the Prophet (s), cited by Ibn al-Hajib in the "Mukhtasar" in the section on qiyas (analogy), which says: "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy for people" (ikhtilafu ummati rahmatun li al-nas). There is a lot of questioning about its authenticity, and many of the imams of learning have claimed that it has no basis (la asla lahu). However, al-Khattabi mentions it in the context of a digression in "Gharib al-hadith" . . . and what he says concerning the tracing of the hadith is not free from imperfection, but he makes it known that it does have a basis in his opinion.'"

6. Al-`Iraqi mentions all of the above (1-5) in his "Mughni `an haml al-asfar" and says: "What is meant by "the Community" in this saying is those competent for practicing legal reasoning (al-mujtahidun) in the branches of the law, wherein reasoning is permissible."
NOTE: What `Iraqi meant by saying "the branches wherein reasoning is permissible" is that difference is not allowed in matters of doctrine, since there is agreement that there is only one truth in the essentials of belief and anyone, whether a mujtahid or otherwise, who takes a different view automatically renounces Islam. (Shawkani, "Irshad al-Fuhul" p. 259 as quoted in Kamali, "Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence" p. 383.) Al-Albani in his attack on the hadith "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy" ignores this distinction and even adduces the verse: "If it had been from other than Allah they would have found therein much discrepancy" (4:82) in order to prove that differences can never be a mercy in any case but are always a curse. Al-Albani's point is directed entirely against those who are content to follow a madhhab. The only scholar he quotes in support of his position is Ibn Hazm al-Zahiri, whose mistake he adopts without mentioning it was denounced by Nawawi. ("Silsila da`ifa" 1:76 #57)

7. Ibn Hazm said in "al-Ihkam fi usul al-ahkam" (5:64): "The saying "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy" is the most perverse saying possible, because if difference were mercy, agreement would be anger, and it is impossible for a Muslim to say this, because there can only be either agreement, or difference, and there can only be either mercy, or anger." However, Imam Nawawi said in his Commentary on "Sahih Muslim": "If something (i.e. agreement) is a mercy it is not necessary for its opposite to be the opposite of mercy. No-one makes this binding, and no-one even says this except an ignoramus or one who affects ignorance. Allah the Exalted said: "And of His mercy He has made night for you so that you would rest in it," and He has named night a mercy: it does not necessarily ensue from this that the day is a punishment."

8. Al-Khattabi said in "Gharib al-hadith": "Difference of opinion in religion is of three kinds: - In affirming the Creator and His Oneness: to deny it is kufr (disbelief); - In His attributes and will: to deny them is innovation; - In the different rulings of the branches of the law (ahkam al-furu`): Allah has made them mercy and generosity for the scholars, and that is the meaning of the hadith: "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy." Al-Jarrahi cited it in "Kashf al-khafa" 1:64 #153.

9. Al-Hafiz al-Suyuti says in his short treatise "Jazil al-mawahib fi ikhtilaf al-madhahib" (The Abundant Grants Concerning the Differences Among the Schools): "The hadith "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy for people" has many benefits among which are the fact that the Prophet (s) foretold of the differences that would arise after his time among the madhahib in the branches of the law, and this is one of his miracles because it is a foretelling of things unseen. Another benefit is his approval of these differences and his confirmation of them because he characterizes them as a mercy. Another benefit is that the legally responsible person can choose to follow whichever he likes among them." After citing the saying of `Umar ibn `Abd al-`Aziz already quoted (#3 above), Suyuti says: "This indicates that what is meant is their differences in the rulings in the branches of the law."

10. The muhaddith al-Samhudi relates al-Hafiz Ibn al-Salah's discussion of Imam Malik's saying concerning difference of opinion among the Companions: "Among them is the one that is wrong and the one that is right: therefore you must exercise ijtihad." Samhudi said: "Plainly, it refers to differences in legal rulings (ahkam). Ibn al-Salah said: "This is different from what Layth said concerning the flexibility allowed for the Community, since this applies exclusively to the mujtahid as he said: "you must exercise ijtihad," because the mujtahid's competence makes him legally responsible (mukallaf) to exercise ijtihad and there is no flexibility allowed for him over the matter of their difference. The flexibility applies exclusively to the unqualified follower (muqallid). The people meant in the saying: "Difference of opinion in my Community is a mercy for people" are those unqualified followers. As for the import of Malik's saying "Among the Companions is the one that is wrong and the one that is right," it is meant only as an answer to those who say that the mujtahid is able to follow the Companions. It is not meant for others.""

11. The author of "al-Fiqh al-Akbar" (attributed to Imam Abu Hanifa) said: "Difference of opinion in the Community is a token of divine mercy."
12. Ibn Qudama al-Hanbali said in "Al-`Aqa'id": "The difference in opinion in the Community is a mercy, and their agreement is a proof."

Discussion
The decision of `Umar whereby he gave precedence to `Ubayy ibn Ka`b's ijtihad over the ijtihad of `Abdullah ibn Mas`ud on the validity of praying in a single garment is not a proof that `Abdullah was wrong, rather it is a proof that `Umar exercised his own ijtihad and authority as the Greater Imam in settling the question. He overruled, not invalidated, and if Ibn Mas`ud held his position from the Prophet (s) he cannot change it even after `Umar's ruling. This is true of every true mujtahid at any time: he is obligated to follow the result of his own ijtihad even if it should differ with that of every other mujtahid of the past and present, unless he becomes convinced that he was mistaken in his previous ijtihad.

According to all the scholars it is incumbent upon the leader of the Muslims to be a mujtahid and it is his responsibility in such cases to settle the question for the sake of the people of his time, and that is the proper context of Imam Malik's injuction: "Exercise ijtihad." It is addressed to the mufti who must establish what is correct in clearcut fashion, not to the muqallid (follower) who is only interested in "a way to follow" (= madhhab) without having to verify its proofs and inferences. However, another mufti may reach another conclusion and be followed, and is not bound by that of the first, nor are those who take their fatwa from him, and no-one finds fault with the other, as Al-Layth ibn Sa`d stated.

A clear proof that the fatwa of the leader overrules but does not invalidate the opinion of the Companions even if it directly contradicts it, is the fact that when `Umar ibn al-Khattab proposed to have all the hadith collected and written down he consulted the Companions and they unanimously agreed to his proposal; later he disapproved of it and ordered that everyone who had written a collection burn it. Yet `Umar ibn `Abd al-`Aziz later ordered that hadith be collected and written. Al-Hafiz al-Baghdadi relates it in his "Taqyid al-`ilm" 49, 52-53, 105-106, and Ibn Sa`d in his "Tabaqat" 3(1):206, 8:353.

Those who think they are mujtahid but in reality are unqualified, when faced by the followers of madhahib, cover up their ignorance with the flashy claim: "We follow Qur'an and Sunna, not madhahib." When it is pointed out to them that to follow a madhhab is to follow Qur'an and Sunna through true ijtihad, they become upset: "How can the four madhhabs differ and be right at the same time? I have heard that only one may be right, and the others wrong." The answer is that one certainly follows only the ruling that he believes is right, but he can never fanatically invalidate the following of other rulings by other madhahib, because they, also, are based on sound principles of ijtihad. At this they rebel and begin numbering the mistakes of the mujtahids: "Imam Malik was right in this, but he was wrong in that; Imam Shafi`i was right in this, but he was wrong in that . . . " This is what they say, and what they hide in their heart is worse because it includes even the Companions. This we will never accept. But when they are rebuked for this blatant disrespect they make it known that they have been wronged and "They are arrogant in their sin" (2:206). This is nothing else than the legacy of the Wahhabi/Salafi movement.

Blessings and Peace on the Prophet, his Family, and His Companions. May Allah be well pleased with the Four Mujtahid Imams, and all the scholars who feared Allah truly.