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The Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society

Mi'rāj al-kalimaFrom the Risāla Qushayriyya to the Futūhāt Makkiyya

Michel Chodkiewicz

In the section of the Rūh al-quds which Ibn 'Arabī dedicates to

one of his earliest masters, Abū Ya'qūb Yūsuf b. Yakhlaf al-

Qummī,[1] he states: "I had never at that time seen the Risāla

of al-Qushayrī, nor any similar work, and I was unaware of

what the word tasawwuf signified."[2] He then recounts that

one day Yūsuf al-Qummī, leaving on horseback in the direction

of a mountain situated not far from Seville, arranged to meet

him there with one of his companions. The latter carried with

him a copy of this Risāla, and Ibn 'Arabī again states that he

was as unaware of its contents as he was of its author. Having

met up with their shaykh at the top of the mountain, the two

young people performed the mid-day prayer behind him, in a

mosque which had been constructed in the place. Then,

turning his back to the qibla, [the shaykh] handed me

the Risāla and said to me: "Read!" The reverential

fear which I experienced left me incapable of putting

two words together, and the book fell from my hand.

He then said to my companion: "Read!" The latter

began to read and the shaykh set about giving an

uninterrupted commentary which lasted until the

moment we had carried out the 'asr (afternoon)

prayer.

One date mentioned on two occasions in the Futūhāt in

connection with Yūsuf al-Qummī suggests that Ibn 'Arabī knew

this shaykh in 586/1190. He was thus at that time aged

twenty-six (lunar years). Less than ten years later, the first

works which he writes testify that he has acquired a perfect

mastery of the technical vocabulary of tasawwuf and that he

has become familiar with the great classical texts. In the

Muhādarat al-abrār,[3] admittedly a book written much later,

Ibn 'Arabī gives a list of authors from whom he drew some of

the material in this miscellaneous collection: the Risāla occupies

a prominent place alongside the works of al-Sulamī, Abū

Nu'aym and Ibn al-Jawzī, for example. All the same, it is

seldom referred to in the writings of the Shaykh al-Akbar,[4]

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Denis Gril

Reproduced from theJournal of theMuhyiddin Ibn 'ArabiSociety, Volume 45,2009.

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and generally only when referring to a remark ascribed to one

of the rijāl of the Risāla. In spite of the relative infrequency of

explicit cross-referencing, it nevertheless remains true that Ibn

'Arabī viewed the work of al-Qushayrī as a major reference, as

is confirmed by an attentive study of the Futūhāt Makkiyya.

The structure of the Futūhāt can be considered from several

points of view, which sometimes leads to confusion as to the

exact placing of a quotation mentioned by various former

commentators who had only manuscripts at their disposal. To

begin with, there is a physical division of the work into thirty-

seven volumes (sifr/asfār) in the autograph manuscript, on

which O. Yahia based his edition of the work. Each of these

volumes in turn comprises seven parts, giving a total of 259

juz'/ajzā'. More significant to the structure of this opus magnum

is its division into six sections (fasl/fusūl), each of which has a

title that describes its content. This produces a further division

into 560 chapters (bāb/abwāb),[5] where the number of

chapters in each fasl clearly has a symbolic nature.[6]

It is on the second section – the fasl al-mu'āmalāt – that we

shall concentrate our attention here. Amounting to 115

chapters, this number is explained in a hadīth, quoted by Hakīm

al-Tirmidhī in his famous questionnaire, according to which

"Allāh has 117 characteristics".[7] In his responses to the three

questions which relate to this prophetic saying, Ibn 'Arabī states

first of all that only the prophets can experience the fullness of

‘taste’ (dhawq) of these ‘divine characteristics’, but that the

awliya' nevertheless benefit from participating in these spiritual

pleasures. Then he points out that whereas other rusul, in

varying degrees corresponding to their position within the

hierarchy of Envoys, have access in the best of cases only to

115 of the Divine akhlāq, Muhammad possesses all of them. In

the context of akbarian prophetology, the most likely

explanation of these two parts being reserved exclusively for the

Prophet of Islam is that they constitute a privilege linked to the

two aspects by which his function is distinguished from that of

all other rusul, that is to say, his priority ("I was a prophet

before Adam was between water and clay")[8] and his

conclusive finality, since the Revelation is permanently ‘sealed’

by the coming down of the Qur'an ("there is no prophet after

me").[9] The significance of the number of chapters [10] thus

becomes clear. In their quality as "heirs to earlier

prophets",[11] the Muhammadian awliyā' are entitled to hope

to taste the flavour of 115 of the Divine akhlāq, while passing

through the three stages of ta'alluq (‘adherence’ to the Divine

characteristics), takhalluq (appropriation of these

characteristics) and tahaqquq (their full realisation).[12]

The initial section of the Futūhāt is the fasl al-ma'ārif, and the

Full moon in Cordoba

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purpose of this study of fundamental doctrinal knowledge is

indicated by the very long chapter 73 which concludes it: we

find therein an extremely detailed analysis of the nature,

function, modes and degrees of sainthood.[13] The teaching

dispensed in the preceding chapters has the clear objective of

preparing the disciple to embark upon the path which will lead

him to walāya. Furthermore, he will have to put into practice

the knowledge that he has received. It is this moving into the

experiential stage that the fasl al-mu'āmalāt will be dedicated

to, the latter word having here a very different sense from that

which it normally has in works on fiqh.

At first glance, starting with an examination of the table of

contents, one might conclude that the section on the mu'āmalāt

(from chapters 74 to 188 inclusive) deals with the exercise of

virtues. Even if the ‘heroic’ practice of these is not a strict

criterion of sainthood in akbarian teaching, as it is in the

canonisation procedure of the Roman church,[14] it goes

without saying that it is a necessary condition. However, as we

shall see, such an evaluation of the chapters’ contents, without

being wrong as such, remains wholly inadequate. A deeper

inspection is required as soon as we consider the order of the

contents, that is to say, the actual structure of the fasl: it very

quickly becomes clear that this structure is rigorously based on

the Risāla Qushayriyya.[15] After an introduction, which is

basically a brief memorial to the mashāyikh al-tarīq, and a

series of explanations on the meaning of some forty technical

terms used in Sufism,[16] the Risāla is essentially composed of

chapters which are dedicated, as the author says, to an

exposition (sharh) of the ‘stations’ and then the ‘states’ of the

Way.

Let us return now to the list of themes dealt with successively in

the first thirteen chapters of this central part of the Risāla as

summarised in the titles of these chapters: (1) tawba, (2)

mujāhada, (3), khalwa, (4) 'uzla, (5) taqwā, (6) wara', (7)

zuhd, (8) samt, (9) khawf, (10) rajā', (11) huzn, (12) jū', (13)

mukhālafat al-nafs. It is obvious from the titles chosen by Ibn

'Arabī that the order of the subjects at the beginning of the

second section of the Futūhāt is exactly the same. However,

while al-Qushayrī deals with this material in thirteen chapters,

in the corresponding part of Ibn 'Arabī’s fasl al-mu'āmalāt there

are no less than thirty-nine, due to a reduction in the treatment

of each of the subjects handled. Thus, for example, on the

subject of khalwa (retreat), which al-Qushayrī makes the

subject of a single chapter along with the related theme of 'uzla

(seclusion), Ibn 'Arabī devotes six separate chapters: two on

khalwa, two on 'uzla and two on firār, the ‘flight’ towards God,

corollary of the ‘retreat’ from the world. We note a similar

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enrichment of description on the theme of taqwā, which is

considered from various different aspects in four separate

chapters, which are completed by a series of three further

chapters devoted to the principles (usūl) from which the legal

statutes derive, the farā'id (obligatory acts), and lastly the

nawāfil (supererogatory acts). Ibn 'Arabī points out[17] that it

would have been more logical to speak of the usūl al-shar'

before the series of chapters in the first fasl relating to 'ibādāt,

but that in his work the order of the material does not result

from a personal choice. He compares this apparent incoherence

to the disconcerting sequence of verses in the Qur'an, which

would appear to have no connection with each other.[18] This

explanation is not an isolated case: time and time again, Ibn

'Arabī states that his writings have been composed whilst in the

grip of an inspiration that dictates to him not only the contents

but also the ordering.[19] However, one may observe that the

transition from the idea of taqwā to that of sacred Law can be

explained quite well, given that the sharī'a defines the rules of

this ‘reverential piety’, which is one of the meanings of the

word taqwā. As al-Qushayrī puts it, it consists "of protecting

oneself from God’s punishment through obedience to Him [i.e.

His Law]."[20]

The parallel between the structure of the Risāla and the section

on the mu'āmalāt continues without the slightest divergence

from beginning to end. This can be illustrated by means of a

second example, concerning this time the final themes

discussed in this part of the Risāla. The last eight chapters

cover the following subjects: (1) al-khurūj min al-dunyā, (2) al-

ma'rifa, (3) al-mahabba, (4) al-shawq, (5) hifz qulūb al-

mashāyikh, (6) al-samā', (7) al-karāmāt, (8) al-ru'yā. These

themes are taken up again in the same order in the Futūhāt,

but spread over thirteen chapters. In total, the number of

chapters is more than doubled in the work of Ibn 'Arabī, since

the fifty-one chapters of the Risāla correspond to 115 chapters

in the Futūhāt.

However, this is not just a matter of a simple quantitative

development – of an extensive gloss on a concise text – which

in itself would be hardly distinguishable from the usual practice

of commentators. Although the Risāla is cited briefly only once

and in a critical manner in the fasl al-mu'āmalāt,[21] it is quite

likely that it was from al-Qushayrī that Ibn 'Arabī borrowed a

certain number of the verba seniorum that he uses.[22] In

certain cases there is no room for doubt: for example, in the

chapter on ‘certainty’ (al-yaqīn), he mentions, declaring it to be

erroneous, the interpretation of a hadīth by Abū 'Alī al-Daqqāq,

al-Qushayrī’s shaykh and father-in-law. This interpretation

appears in exactly the same form in the bāb al-yaqīn in the

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Risāla.[23] The Risāla, or more specifically, the sayings of the

shaykhs which it gathers together on each theme, are a point

of departure for Ibn 'Arabī. But the fasl al-mu'āmalāt is totally

different to a commentary on al-Qushayrī’s work.

I am indebted to my friend and colleague Su'ād al-Hakīm,

whose work is a remarkable analysis of the vocabulary of Ibn

'Arabī, for the expression mi'rāj al-kalima (‘the ascension of the

word’) which I have used in the title for this article.[24] This

powerful image seems to me to be most appropriate for

describing the way the Shaykh al-Akbar proceeds in the second

section of the Futūhāt, and more generally, for clarifying in all

his works the nature of the relationship which he has with the

technical vocabulary of tasawwuf. Heir to an already well-

established tradition, Ibn 'Arabī was not unaware of his debt

towards it. He speaks not only of his own masters with

reverence and gratitude (in the Rūh al-quds and the Durra

fākhira, in particular) but also of illustrious deceased Sufis,

whose hagiographer he himself sometimes is, as in the case of

Dhū’l-Nūn al-Misrī.[25] On some occasions he pays favourable

and just tributes to such men as al-Tustarī, al-Tirmidhī, al-

Niffarī and Ibn Barrajān. That he should sometimes voice

reservations over someone’s behaviour or words is not

surprising: in the third century Hegira the great shuyūkh of

Baghdad or Khurasān used to make critical remarks about each

other, which expressed legitimate differences in points of view

and were not simply to be taken literally. We know that Ibn

'Arabī voices some criticisms regarding al-Hallāj on various

occasions (in the Futūhāt, in the Tajalliyāt and in the Risālat al-

intisār) – something that Massignon never forgave him for. But

the severity of these judgements does not stop him from

frequently quoting his verses,[26] nor from stressing that we

are indebted to him for two technical terms (tūl and 'ard) which

belong to the "science of letters", i.e. to the "christic science"

(al-'ilm al-'īsawī), the role of which is fundamental in his

eyes.[27]

From this rich language of spiritual experience handed down to

him by earlier generations, Ibn 'Arabī validates the accepted

meanings that are a matter of Sufi discourse, clarifying them on

a good many points. He does not leave it there, however. As

one can see, especially in the fasl al-mu'āmalāt, his constant

concern is, as it were, to add to the "words of the tribe" and,

through this mi'rāj al-kalima, to elicit ever higher meanings

from them. From the domain of virtuous practices and ascetic–

mystical disciplines, to which he applied himself from the very

beginning, the traditional vocabulary is thus driven by degrees

so as to bring out the metaphysical truths of which he is

implicitly the bearer, and which establishes his work in the

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practice of Sufism. This ‘semantic ascension’ often takes on a

very paradoxical form and helps to explain the many warnings

in the literature of the brotherhood against the unwise

circulation of Ibn 'Arabī’s works – not to mention the sweeping

condemnations emanating from certain fuqahā'.[28] A rapid

analysis of certain chapters from the second fasl of the Futūhāt,

which as we have seen bears a strict structural relationship to

the Risāla Qushayriyya, allows us to see the akbarian method in

operation and to evaluate its effects on the understanding of

the technical language of the men of the Way.

The contents page of the fasl provides evidence of an important

aspect of this method: in thirty-four cases, the chapter dealing

with one of the ‘stations’ (maqāmāt) in al-Qushayrī’s work is

followed by another chapter dealing with the ‘abandonment’

(tark) of this station.[29] Far from representing a blameworthy

attitude, we shall see that this abandonment must be

interpreted each time as a moving beyond the preceding

maqām, a purification aimed at liberating the sālik from what

remains of duality in the station which he has attained. It is

thus that the wahdat al-wujūd, which constitutes the keystone

of this complex architecture, is envisaged in itself or in its

doctrinal consequences.

With regard to khalwa, Ibn 'Arabī briefly mentions the common

meaning of this term, ‘solitary retreat in a cell’;[30] it is its

foundation in divinis which he wishes to teach to his disciple.

Quoting the hadīth "God was and there was no thing with Him",

he sees the principle of khalwa in this primordial emptiness (al-

khalā'): whether he be physically secluded in a cell or not, the

person ‘in retreat’ is truly only someone whose heart is empty

of everything which is other than God. But this maqām remains

imperfect since it still assumes the illusion of separation

(God/other than God). It must therefore be ‘abandoned’: "When

man sees only God in everything, khalwa is impossible." The

two chapters on ‘flight’ (al-firār),[31] which as we have said

are without equivalent in the Risāla, are completely consistent

with what went before. In the first place Ibn 'Arabī makes a

scripturally justified distinction between al-firār min – flight

defined by that from which one flees, as in the case of Moses

(Q. 26:21), and al-firār ilā – flight defined by that towards

which one flees, as in the case of Muhammad (Q. 51:50). If the

former has the intention of self-preservation, the latter has the

goal of losing oneself in God. But "where to flee, when there is

nothing but God? ... All that you see is God!" The Shaykh al-

Akbar concludes that if God ordains all believers to flee to Him

(in verse 51:50 – fa firrū ilā Llāh), it is only because they have

not yet reached this contemplation of His universal presence.

For the one who achieves it, flight – whether ‘from’ or ‘towards’

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– is in fact a station that is gone beyond.

Most of the remarks cited by al-Qushayrī[32] on ‘humility’ (al-

khushū'), as is generally the case in his work, have a

descriptive or prescriptive character in keeping with the

practical purpose of the Risāla: Abū Yazīd says a man is humble

"when he sees neither a state nor a station for himself, and

when he cannot find among mankind anyone who is worse than

himself." Also quoted by al-Qushayrī, for Junayd humility is "the

abasement of your heart before the One who knows the

mysteries". As for Ibn 'Arabī, he shows that real humility always

comes about through a theophany (tajallī). However, "when the

servant is veiled from himself by his Lord" (mahjūb 'an dhātihi

bi-rabbihi), he necessarily ‘abandons’ the maqām al-khushū',

for he is absent from himself and the tajallī only meets with a

mirror which reflects it back to its source. So, "for one who is

revealed to Himself, how could he experience humility?" Since

he is not unaware that what has just been explained only

concerns exceptional beings, the author of the Futūhāt quickly

adds, "To abandon humility is blameworthy for the one who

does not possess this spiritual state; and if he abandons it, he

will be expelled (matrūd)."

If tawakkul, the "confident handing over to God" or "trust in

God", is unanimously recognised as one of the fundamental

rules of the Way, debates on this frequently focus on a practical

problem: should the Sufi earn his living by practising a trade or

profession, thus remaining prisoner to secondary causes (al-

wuqūf ma'a al-asbāb), or should he abstain from this, waiting

for God alone to provide his subsistence?[33] There are

numerous examples in hagiographical literature of saintly

people who set out across deserts without supplying themselves

with provisions. But tawakkul can also serve as a pious pretext

for abusive begging. The most commonly accepted position is

the one expressed by Sahl al-Tustarī, as quoted by al-

Qushayrī: "Tawakkul was the state (hāl) of the Prophet, but

kasb (acquisition by recourse to secondary causes) was his

sunna." Ibn 'Arabī is not unaware of these debates, and the

point of view which he expresses on various occasions in his

writings, corresponds to that of al-Tustarī.[34] The tawakkul as

prescribed by Revelation consists of not seeking support other

than in God in all circumstances without being affected by any

turmoil if one notices the absence of the secondary causes on

which the soul has a habit of relying. This is a matter of interior

disposition, not of an impossible "departure from secondary

causes", for God acts in them (and not by them: fī’l-asbāb lā

bi’l-asbāb): they are the veils behind which He is

concealed.[35] But the lawful tawakkul (mashrū') is not the

tawakkul haqīqī, which only really belongs to one who is devoid

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of being (al-ma'dūm fī hāl 'adamihi). The "confident handing

over to God" by the 'abd means that he entrusts God with

looking after his affairs. It is therefore once again the

expression of one’s own will. Since God has arranged

everything according to His Wisdom, there is nothing further

that the creature should need to seek as support, given that he

has received from God everything that comes to him.[36]

On the subject of ‘gratitude’ (al-shukr), al-Qushayrī relates a

remark by al-Shīblī that it consists of "seeing the Benefactor,

not His beneficence".[37] This definition coincides with that

given by Ibn 'Arabī on shukr 'ilmī, ‘knowing gratitude’, which he

distinguishes from that which is manifested in words or deeds

(the French word ‘reconnaissance’ [i.e. gratefulness by

recognition] would undoubtedly be the most appropriate

translation of the Arabic expression). Clearly, this has nothing

to do with a theoretical knowledge, but is a knowledge based on

evidence: whatever might be the apparent agent, the benefit

must be seen as coming from God. Here again, however, a

duality remains which betrays the imperfection of this maqām,

however elevated it might be. It must, then, be given up in

order to attain to tark al-shukr, which consists in seeing God as

being at the same time both al-shākir and al-mashkūr, the

‘grateful’ and the one to whom all gratitude is addressed.

"Nothing is repeated within existence because of the Divine

infinity", Ibn 'Arabī states at the beginning of the chapter on the

"Abandonment of Certainty" (tark al-yaqīn).[38] This is why

what the theologians say on the subject of accidents, that they

only last for one instant at a time, is also true of substances. If

that is the case, then in the absence of stable objects to which

it can be applied, on what can certainty be based? As a

consequence, the men of God renounce all efforts to acquire it,

and only accept it when it is bestowed on them. Total

submission to the Divine will excludes rest and stability.

Seeking certainty is a presumptuous attempt to limit the

inexhaustible new creation of God. The word hayra – the

‘stupefaction’ or wonderment, the dizziness which is produced

by the dazzling procession of theophanies, where no two are the

same, is not mentioned here. But certainty is best epitomised

by one who has gone beyond it. As the author writes several

pages further on, "the perfect one (al-kāmil) is he in whom

hayra is the greatest".[39]

Many Quranic verses advise believers to have patience (al-

sabr) and give as models the examples of Abraham and his

son, of Jacob, of Job, or of the Prophet of Islam. Al-Qushayrī

records one definition among others, given by Ruwaym:

"Patience is giving up complaint".[40] Ibn 'Arabī does not quote

this remark, but without saying so, it is obviously this that he is

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correcting and completing when he declares: "Patience does not

consist of abstaining from complaining to God so that He may

ease the affliction or distance; it consists of abstaining from

complaining to other than God." Complaining to God is not a

transgression of the obligation of patience, for if God afflicts His

servants it is precisely so that they may address their

complaints to Him. The Quranic example mentioned in support

of this view is that of Job who, in his unhappiness, calls to God

(Q. 21:83), and of whom God nonetheless says: Innā

wajadnāhu sābiran ("Indeed We found him patient", Q. 38:44).

This theme is developed more fully in chapter 19 of the Fusūs

al-hikam. In complete contrast to the tone of most classical

texts on sabr, having made this point, the Shaykh al-Akbar

celebrates with jubilation the Divine rahma:

Rejoice, oh servants of God, in the universality and the

immensity of the Mercy which extends over all creatures, albeit

after a delay! For when this low world disappears, the affliction

of whoever is afflicted will disappear with it, and through that

even patience itself will disappear.

This Mercy, which he affirms here just as he affirms it

throughout his work, will be extended even to those who are

condemned to dwell in Gehenna. However guilty people may be,

the Divine patience is without limit, for God is al-sabūr, the

Supremely Patient.[41] The ‘abandonment’ of patience – which

should be understood as the most perfect degree of patience –

is thus in opposition to the common notion of sabr. To be

stoical in the face of ordeal is to pretend to stand up to the

power of God (al-qahr al-ilāhī). On the contrary, perfection for

the servant is to acknowledge his utter impotence and poverty

('ajzuhu wa-faqruhu).

Two of the most significant chapters in the section on

mu'āmalāt are those which correspond to the one that al-

Qushayrī dedicates to 'ubūdiyya.[42] The titles which Ibn 'Arabī

gives to these chapters deserve attention: the first is "On the

maqām of 'ubūda", and the second "On the maqām of the

Abandonment of 'ubūdiyya". Although the Shaykh al-Akbar

sometimes uses these words interchangeably,[43] in his

doctrine – and especially here – they have very distinct

meanings, and it is this which allows us to understand the

unusual modification of vocabulary in these successive titles. In

fact, in order to shed light on this problem three terms from the

same root should be considered: 'ibāda, 'ubūdiyya, and 'ubūda.

Citing al-Daqqāq, al-Qushayrī mentions them at the beginning

of his explanation, but confines himself to putting them

respectively in connection with, on the one hand, the ternary of

"the common believers" ('āmma), "the elite", and "the elite of

the elite"; and on the other, with the degrees of certainty ('ilm,

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'ayn, haqq). In order to render these three terms equally by

words of the same family, I have suggested translating them as

‘service’, ‘servanthood’ and ‘servitude’.[44] According to Ibn

'Arabī, servitude ('ubūda) is the ontological status of the

creature. The servant, 'abd, possesses nothing, not even

himself. He has no being which can be his own. Even the name

'abd does not belong to him.[45] This status is thus

irrevocable, which is why it cannot be ‘abandoned’. Ibn 'Arabī

says that servanthood, 'ubūdiyya, is the "relationship to

'ubūda", it derives from it: it is actually the condition to which

the 'abd is dedicated because of his status; and service, 'ibāda,

represents the totality of duties which are implied in this servile

condition. "The station of 'ubūdiyya is the station of abasement

and indigence", a definition which stems from that given in a

famous dialogue during which Abū Yazīd al-Bistāmī asks of God:

"With what can I approach You?", "With that which does not

belong to Me"; "But, Lord, what does not belong to You?",

"Abasement and indigence."[46] No one but the Prophet has

realised more perfectly this condition of servanthood, and it is

this to which the creature must submit so as to be in

conformity with his original status in this world. And that is why

the Prophet is not designated by any other word than 'abd in

the verse (Q. 17:1) that relates to the glorious episode of the

"night journey".[47]

The end of chapter 130 announces the principal idea of the

following chapter; the maqām of 'ubūda, servitude, in contrast

to the maqām of 'ubūdiyya, excludes all relationship with God

or with anything else: it is absolute poverty, complete

nakedness. By virtue of his dependence, the creature cannot

subsist in the absence of all relationship, and so disappears, so

that there is nothing other than God manifesting in the 'abd.

"Fa huwa 'abdun lā 'abdun." The one in whom individuality is

completely extinguished in 'ubūda ‘abandons’ 'ubūdiyya, for he

realises that the possibilities (al-mumkināt) have never left

their nothingness, that they have "never smelt the perfume of

existence",[48] that they are nothing but the places of

manifestation of the only Manifest One, for "God alone

possesses Being". In other words, 'ubūdiyya vanishes for the

one who ‘returns’ (for his leaving was only illusory) to the state

which he was in in the thubūt: present to God but unknowing of

himself.[49] The 'ubūda is re-absorption into the principial

Unity: 'ubūdiyya loses all raison d’être when this re-absorption

takes place or, rather, when the 'abd discovers that he has

never left the Unity. The theme of wahdat al-wujūd is mainly

developed in the next part of this chapter, where Ibn 'Arabī

resorts to a symbolism which is dear to him, the procession of

numbers starting from one,[50] and relies on scriptural

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references (Q. 15:85; 8:17) which he frequently uses when he

treats this subject. As with everything which we have

mentioned during the course of this brief study, these pages

merit a detailed analysis. But it is not our intention here to

understand the depth and breadth of the doctrinal teaching that

the Shaykh al-Akbar set down in this section of the Futūhāt: he

himself restricted himself to indicating how this change of

register operates, giving these classical terms significations

which can sometimes appear as a paradoxical reversal of

traditional meanings.

From this point of view, the systematic coupling of

maqām/abandonment of maqām is especially worthy of

attention. Let us cite one final example: that of ‘uprightness’

(istiqāma). According to the masters’ explanations as

transmitted by al-Qushayrī,[51] this consists of training the

passionate soul, of pruning the heart, of giving up attachment

to habits, of acting as if each moment was that of the

Resurrection. In short, this involves applying oneself to

straightening out all that is twisted. For Ibn 'Arabī each thing

possesses the rectitude that is appropriate to its nature: "the

uprightness of a bow consists of its curvature". Consequently,

he is not afraid to say that Adam’s disobedience to the Divine

order was part of his uprightness, that is, he was in conformity

with the purpose of his creation: felix culpa since without the

fall to which this led, he would not have been able to exercise

here on earth the khilāfa, for the sake of which he came into

existence. To abandon all effort which strives to establish

rectitude is, for the 'ārif, the very sign of uprightness, and is

evidence that he is "with God in every state".[52] For him,

there is no deviation (i'wijāj) in the universe: everything is

straight.

However, nothing would be more contrary to the teaching of

Ibn 'Arabī than to think that, on the basis of these provocative

assertions, he judges the via purgativa, which is so much

emphasised by the Sufis quoted in the Risāla, to be somehow

superfluous. As he writes in the Futūhāt and elsewhere, the

rigorous disciplines that he insists on from the murīd are exactly

the same as those prescribed by the saints to whom al-

Qushayrī refers as authorities. But the Shaykh al-Akbar detects

an implicit Pelagianism which threatens to generate an

awareness of efforts being accomplished. Asceticism, which is

intended to get rid of the ego, can end up strengthening it. All

stations are a trap, and risk becoming a prison.

A station is nothing other than the habitus of a virtue. But, as

all traditional definitions – including those of Ibn 'Arabī – state,

it is an acquired (muktasab) habitus.[53] To abandon a maqām

is not to abandon the exercise of the virtue with which it is

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associated. The ‘abandonment’ refers to that which is produced

when the Divine Grace substitutes for the acquired habitus an

innate habitus, which escorts the being home to its primordial

'ubūda. Thus "God is the hearing with which he hears, the sight

with which he sees, the hand with which he takes, the foot with

which he walks."[54] "Indeed Truth has come and falsehood

has passed away" (Wa-qad jā'a ’l-haqqu wa-zahaqa ’l-bātil, Q.

17:81): the tark al-maqām is therefore, when all is said and

done, nothing other than the abandonment of an illusion.[55]

Translated by Judy Kearns

Notes

* This paper was first published in French in Reason and

Inspiration in Islam, ed. Todd Lawson (London and New York,

I.B. Taurus/Ismaili Institute, 2005), pp. 248–261.

Notes

1 Rūh al-quds fī muhāsabat al-nafs (Damascus, 1964), pp. 49–

50. Regarding this shaykh, who is mentioned several times in

other parts of the Rūh al-quds (pp. 55, 61, 75, 78, 84), see

also Futūhāt (Būlāq, 1329/1911), I. 616 and II. 683.

2 On the first stages of the spiritual life of Ibn 'Arabī, see the

article by G. Elmore, "New Evidence on the Conversion of Ibn

'Arabī to Sufism", Arabica 45 (1988), pp. 50–72, and the

clarification by C. Addas, "La conversion d’Ibn 'Arabī: certitudes

et conjectures", 'Ayn al-hayat 4 (1998), pp. 33–64.

3 Muhādarat al-abrār wa-musāmarāt al-akhyār (Beirut, 1968),

p. 11. According to information that we received in 1987, an

autograph manuscript of this work, from Malatya and dated AH

612, was currently in the possession of a Tunisian university.

We would also point out that in spite of interpolations into the

text by later copyists, there is absolutely no doubt, contrary to

Brockelmann’s thesis, about the attribution of this book to Ibn

'Arabī.

4 See, for example, Fut. I. 221, 527, 605; II. 117, 245; Kitāb

nasab al-khirqa, ms. Esad Ef. 1507, fol. 98a.

5 To these 560 chapters must be added the long initial khutba,

the fihris (in which the chapter titles do not always coincide with

those which appear at the head of the abwāb) and the

muqaddima, all together representing 47 pages of the AH 1329

edition (corresponding to pp. 41–214 of O. Yahia’s edition).

6 This symbolic nature is evident in the case of the 4th fasl, that

of the manāzil, where the number (114) is that of the suras of

the Qur'an, the first manzil corresponding to Sura 114, the

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second to Sura 113, and so on until the manzil of the Fātiha

(for further details, see our An Ocean without shore, Albany,

1993, chap. 3). It is also evident in the 5th fasl (al-munāzalāt),

where the number of chapters (78) is the same as that of the

occurrences of the hurūf nūrāniyya in the Qur'an, taking into

account the repetitions, as well as in the 6th (al-maqāmāt)

which adds up to 99 chapters, being the number of the

traditional list of the Divine Names. Chapters 2 to 73 of the first

fasl (al-ma'ārif) correspond to the 72 darajāt al-basmala

according to the jazm saghīr, while chapter 1, in which is

described the visionary meeting which engenders the whole of

the work, should really be considered as a prologue, and not

part of the fasl. We will return to the significance of the 115

chapters of the 2nd fasl (al-mu'āmalāt). As for the 3rd (al-

ahwāl), which is made up of 81 chapters, it appears to be

related to the 78 shu'ab al-īmān, although we cannot explain

for certain the addition of three supplementary chapters. As

regards the number of fusūl, we may recall that the number six

(like the letter wāw whose numerical value it represents) is a

symbol of the insān kāmil (see for example, Fut. III. 142).

Furthermore, a correspondence seems likely between these six

sections and six of the asmā' al-dhāt, the seventh of these

Names corresponding to the first chapter, which constitutes in a

way the matrix of the Futūhāt. The mention of the Ka'ba in this

first chapter (I.50), of the seven ritual circumambulations and

the seven sifāt, would merit from this point of view a long

commentary which would then allow us to better understand

why the Futūhāt are ‘Makkiyya’. See Ocean without shore, pp.

28–29 and 96–99. Finally, we may point out that 560 – the

year of Ibn 'Arabī’s birth – is also the number of words in the

Sura al-fath, whose relationship with the notion of Futūhāt

seems to us self-evident.

7 Khatm al-awliyā', ed. O. Yahia (Beirut, 1960), p. 210; B.

Radtke, Drei Schriften des Theosophen von Tirmīd (Beirut,

1992), pp. 22–23. This hadīth is quoted again by al-Tirmidhī, p.

411 (O. Yahia edn), p. 99 (Radtke edn). For Ibn 'Arabī’s

responses, see Fut. II. 72–74 (questions 48, 49 and 50).

8 This hadīth, of highly disputed authenticity, especially by Ibn

Taymiyya, is frequently quoted by Ibn 'Arabī: see, inter alia,

Fut. I. 134, 143, 243; III. 22, 141, 456.

9 Bukhārī, Fadā'il ashāb al-nabī, p. 9; Ibn Māja, Muqaddima, p.

11, etc. For an exhaustive analysis of the scriptural gifts related

to this final character, see Y. Friedmann, Prophecy Continuous

(Berkeley, CA, 1989), chap. 2.

10 The autograph manuscript of the second redaction of the

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Futūhāt allows us to verify that this second section only

contains 115 chapters and not 116 as indicated in the table of

contents at the beginning of the work (I. 17), and also

confirmed by O. Yahia in his edition (vol. 1, p. 30; vol. 13, p.

53).

11 On the notion of wirātha and its importance in the hagiology

of Ibn 'Arabī, see our Seal of Saints (Paris, 1986), chap. 5.

12 On these three aspects, to which Ibn 'Arabī often refers, see

especially Fut. I. 363, 373; II. 39; III. 126.

13 On chapter 73 of the Futūhāt see our remarks in Ocean

without shore (p. 46 ff.) and our article "Les Malāmiyya dans la

doctrine d’Ibn 'Arabī", in N. Clayer, A. Popovic and Th. Zarcone

(eds.), Melāmis-Bayrāmis (Istanbul, 1998).

14 Since Pope Urban VIII (1642), it is indeed this "heroism of

the [theological and cardinal] virtues" (and not mystical graces)

which are taken into account in the process of canonisation, the

1983 code of canonical right restricting the introduction of

certain new methodologies in the super vita et virtutibus

positions (with recourse to human sciences).

15 We refer here to the edition of the Risāla published in Cairo

in 1957. Up until now there are no other translations into French

of this fundamental work. The German translation by R.

Gramlich, Das Sendschreiben al-Qusayrīs über das Sufitum was

published in Wiesbaden in 1989. In English there is a partial

translation by B.R. von Schlegell entitled Principles of Sufism

(Berkeley, CA, 1992), and a full translation by A.D. Knysh

entitled al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism (Reading, 2007).

16 The Risāla concludes with a chapter of ‘advice’ intended for

the murīd. The outline of this chapter is clearly the inspiration

on which a short treatise by Ibn 'Arabī is constructed, entitled

the Kitāb al-amr al-muhkam al-marbūt, written in Konya in

602/1205–1206.

17 Fut. II. 163.

18 The example given in this passage is that of verses Q.

2:235–241 where the injunction to perform the prayer

conflicts/intercedes with the instructions related to marriage,

divorce, and the reading of provisions within a will.

19 See Fut. I. 59, 152; III. 101, 334, 456; IV. 62, 74.

20 Risāla, p. 52; see also Knysh, p. 125.

21 In chapter 150, on ghayra (II. 245).

22 This is likely since these sayings of the shaykhs are also

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found in other works that Ibn 'Arabī is said to have read, such

as the Hilya of Abū Nu'aym, on which he wrote a summary, as

he indicates in the Fihris and the Ijāza.

23 Risāla, p. 84 (Knysh, p. 195); Fut. II. 204.

24 In a brief but evocative essay published in Beirut in 1991

under the title Ibn 'Arabī wa-mawlid lugha jadīda, S. al-Hakīm

describes concisely the parallel between the structure of the

Fasl al-mu'āmalāt and that of the Risāla (see p. 53), but

without making a detailed comparison between the two texts.

As the title of her book suggests, her primary intention was to

examine the considerable developments given by Ibn 'Arabī to

the traditional vocabulary of Sufism by creating terms or

expressions, a list of which is given at the end (numbering

some one hundred pages). Dr 'Abd al-Wahhāb Amīn Ahmad’s

work, al-Mughāmarat al-lughawiyya fi’l-Futūhāt al-Makkiyya

(Cairo, 1995) – seemingly unaware of the most recent works,

especially those of S. al-Hakīm – is quite disappointing.

25 We are indebted to Roger Deladrière for an elegant and

erudite translation of this work (al-Kawākib al-durriyya), for

which there is no critical edition as yet: La Vie merveilleuse de

Dhū’l-Nūn l’Egyptien (Paris, 1988). But Ibn 'Arabī is equally the

author of a work on Abū Yazīd and another on Hallāj (nos. 461

and 651 respectively in O. Yahia’s classification), manuscript

copies of which have not yet been found.

26 See for example, Fut. I. 364; II. 337, 361; III. 104, 117;

IV. 194.

27 Fut. I. 169, 176; IV. 332, etc. See also Diwan (Beirut,

1996), p. 299 where Ibn 'Arabī speaks of Hallāj as his ‘brother’

in the knowledge of the secrets of the letters.

28 For the real meaning of these condemnations, see our "Le

Procès posthume d’al-'Arabī", in Islamic Mysticism Contested

(Leiden, 1999), based on a paper given at a symposium on

Sufism and Its Opponents, held in Utrecht in 1995.

29 Here we only consider the cases where the term

‘abandonment’ is used in the title. But the same procedure is

obvious in the cases where this word does not appear: the

station of ‘silence’ (al-samt) is thus followed by that of ‘speech’,

that of ‘poverty’ (faqr) is followed by that of ‘wealth’, that of

wakefulness (sahar) by that of ‘sleep’, etc.

30 Fut., chaps. 78–79; al Qushayrī, Risāla, pp. 50–52 (Knysh,

pp. 122–125).

31 Fut., chaps. 82–83. On the theme of firār see also Fut. IV.

156, 183.

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32 Fut., chaps. 110–111; Risāla, pp. 68–71 (Knysh, pp. 161–

167).

33 See for example the 'Awārif al-ma'ārif d’al-Suhrawardī,

chaps. 19–20.

34 Tustarī is cited several times in the long chapter of the

Risāla dedicated to tawakkul (pp. 75–80; Knysh, pp. 178–188).

For Ibn 'Arabī’s position, see Fut. IV. 153–4, as well as chaps.

118–119 of the Fasl al-mu'āmalāt.

35 On the impossibility of khurūj 'an al-asbāb, Fut. III. 72,

249.

36 Undoubtedly it is in this way that a phrase cited by

Kalābādhī from Hallāj must be interpreted – but attributed in

vague terms to "one of the great masters" – according to which

haqīqat al-tawakkul tark al-tawakkul (Kitāb al-ta'arruf, Cairo,

1960, p. 101).

37 Risāla, pp. 80–82 (Knysh, p. 190); Fut., chaps. 120–121.

38 Risāla, pp. 82–84 (Knysh, pp. 193–196); Fut., chaps. 122–

123. The affirmation of the unrepeatable nature of things,

linked to the notion of ‘perpetual creation’ and therefore always

new (khalq jadīd) is frequent in Ibn 'Arabī’s work. See for

example Fut. I. 735; III. 127, 159; Fusūs al-hikam (Beirut,

1946), p. 202.

39 Fut. II. 212. On hayra, also a recurrent theme, see for

example chap. 50 (I. 270 ff.); Fusūs, pp. 72–73. The notion of

"epectasy" in Christian mystical theology corresponds quite well

to that of hayra, where it is very controversial. See the article

s.v. in Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 4, col. 785–88.

40 Risāla, pp. 84–88 (Knysh, pp. 196–202); Fut., chaps. 124–

125. In chap. 124, Ibn 'Arabī quotes on the subject of Shīblī, an

anecdote recorded by al-Qushayrī, p. 85 (Knysh, p. 200).

41 On the name al-sabūr see Fut. IV. 317. Various

explanations, which we cannot go into here, would be necessary

to account for the final inclusion of ahl al-nār in rahma. See on

this subject Fut. III. 164, 207, 550; Fut. I. 93–94, among other

passages where Ibn 'Arabī deals with the universality of Mercy.

42 Risāla, pp. 90–92 (Knysh, 210–213); Fut., chaps. 130–131.

43 The distinction between 'ubūda and 'ubūdiyya, although

perceptible, is rarely taken into account in a rigorous way with

Arabic authors (see Lisān al-arāb, vol. 3, p. 271). We may note

that in the ms. of the first redaction of the Futūhāt (subsequent

to Ibn 'Arabī, the first one having been lost) we find 'ubūdiyya

rather than 'ubūda in the title of chap. 130.

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44 Ocean without shore, p. 122 ff.

45 Fut. II. 350.

46 With reference to this dialogue Ibn 'Arabī explains that there

is a secret which he cannot disclose. We assume that this is an

allusion to the fact that, speaking metaphysically, there is

nothing which does not belong to God, including therein

whatever the Divine Perfection appears to exclude – an idea

expressed particularly in the introductory poem of chap. 127

which relies on scriptural facts (e.g. Q. 73:23) or on the hadīth

qudsī, parallel to Matt. 25, 41–45, where God says: "I was sick

and you did not visit Me" (on this hadīth, see Fut. II. 407; III.

304; IV. 451).

47 This reference to the verse of the Sura al-isrā is also made

by Abū 'Alī al-Daqqāq in a remark quoted by al-Qushayrī.

48 This image is not used here but it is frequently found in the

writings of the Shaykh al-Akbar and his disciples. See for

example Fusūs, p. 76 (where wujūd should be read for mawjūd,

unlike Afīfī’s reading).

49 On this ‘return’, see Fut. II. 672 ("The nobility of man is to

return in his existence to his state of non-existence") and III.

539.

50 Fut. III. 494; Kitāb al-alif (Hyderabad, 1948); Fusūs, pp.

77–78.

51. Risāla, pp. 94–95 (Knysh, pp. 217–220); Fut.

52 The same ideas are developed in Chap. 10 of the Fusūs,

with the same Quranic references (especially Q. 11:56).

53 Fut. II. 385.

54 These words are borrowed from a hadīth qudsī which Ibn

'Arabī has included in his Mishkāt al-anwār and which he

mentions on many occasions in most of his works. In

consistency with the akbarian doctrine, we are very conscious

of giving the innate habitus a much stronger meaning here than

that which is usually employed in the language of Christian

mystical theology.

55 The interpretation by Ibn 'Arabī of the aforementioned

hadīth emphasises that when "God is the hearing, the sight, the

hand, the foot" of the servant, nothing has happened in fact

except for an unveiling (kashf) to this latter of what always was

and always will be (Fut. I. 406).

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