side emre - isamveri.orgisamveri.org/pdfdrg/g00366/2016/2014_emres.pdf · side emre scholars of...

A Preliminary Investigation of Ibn ʿArabi’s Influence Reflected in the

Corpus of İbrahim-i Gulsheni (d.1534) and the Halveti–Gulsheni Order

of Dervishes in Egypt1

Side Emre

Scholars of medieval Islamic mysticism acknowledge Ibn ʿArabi (d.1240) as one of the most influential mystics of the world. His writings, spanning thousands of pages, offer complex layers of discourse whose depth, sophistication, and visionary quali-ties never cease to challenge and inspire his readers. While few debate Ibn ʿArabi’s intellectual impact on Islamic mysticism, only a handful of scholarly works in early modern Ottoman cultural history and Sufism studies discuss his teachings and their impact on mystical traditions in Ottoman realms.2 This

1. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Stephen Hirtenstein and the anonymous Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society (JMIAS) readers for their insightful comments to help improve this article.2. Hamid Algar, ‘Reflections of Ibn ʿ Arabi in Early Naqshbandi Tradition,’

JMIAS, 10 (1991); Mustafa Tahralı, ‘A General Outline of the Influence of Ibn ʿArabi on the Ottoman Era,’ JMIAS, 26 (1999); Victoria Rowe Holbrook, ‘Ibn ʿArabi and Ottoman Dervish Traditions: The Melami Supra-Order’; this article consists of two parts, in JMIAS, 9 (1991) and 12 (1992); Ahmet Yaşar Ocak, Osmanlı Toplumunda Zındıklar ve Mülhidler 15–17, Yüzyıllar (İstanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yayınları, 1998) (Ocak, Zındıklar). For an analysis of Ibn ʿArabi’s intellectual legacy and an examination of Akbarian hagiol-ogy within the context of Niyāzī-i Mısrī’s writings in the 17th century, see Derin Terzioğlu, ‘Sufi and Dissident in the Ottoman Empire: Niyāzī-i Mısrī (1618–1694)’, PhD diss., Harvard University (1999) (Terzioğlu), 218–2, 223, 238, 400–24. Terzioğlu’s textual analysis of Mısrī’s daily journal and eschatological/prophetic teachings depict a strong imprint of the school of Ibn ʿArabi. The author interprets these findings as the most controver-sial aspects of Mısrī’s thought (ibid. 355, 369–71). Unfortunately unlike

68 Side Emre

article seeks to fill that lacuna by introducing and investigating Ibn ʿArabi’s conceptual influence on the literature of İbrahim-i Gulsheni – founder of the Halveti–Gulsheni order of dervishes and the controversial Ottoman saint of Egypt – his order, and the Gulsheniye mystical culture formed in Egypt. One of my aims is to uncover reflections of what I define as the four anchor concepts – waḥdat al-wujūd, waḥdat al-shuhūd, wilāyat, and ʿilm al-ladun3 – attributed to Ibn ʿArabi and the Akbarian school in select examples of the Gulsheniye corpus.4 An interpretive

Mısrī, Gulsheni did not leave a first-person narrative or other writings that directly quoted Ibn ʿArabi. Nor did Gulsheni write commentaries on or apologies of Ibn ʿArabi’s works. Terzioğlu examines the channels through which Akbarian influence entered the Ottoman religio-mystical and intel-lectual world as early as the 13th century. She also analyzes how Ibn ʿAra-bi’s legacy remained vibrant, and at times controversial, in the scholarly and learned circles throughout the 17th century. For discussions of this issue see ibid. 243, 356, 364–9. While she argues that the Ottoman central state dealt harshly with the Gulsheni shaykhs who expounded the teach-ing of waḥdat al-wujūd in the 16th century, she does not provide analysis or information on the members of the Halveti–Gulsheni order in 16th-cen-tury Egypt (ibid. 367).

3. I followed the International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies (IJMES) transliteration system for Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. I used modern Turk-ish orthography where possible. To maintain consistency, I retained Arabic transliterations of Sufi terminology and simplified the transliterations of Ottoman Turkish in the main text and notes. For Ottoman Turkish poetry cited/translated, I kept Ottoman Turkish transliterations; for the Persian poetry, I maintained Persian transliterations.4. The literature investigating terminology attributed to Ibn ʿArabi and

his interpreters is vast. To tackle the complex issue of jargon, I base my study on William C. Chittick’s analysis of jargon and translations of concep-tual references. For waḥdat al-wujūd (oneness of being, unity of existence) see Chittick, ‘Rūmī and waḥdat al-wujūd,’ in Amin Banani et al. (eds.), Poetry and Mysticism in Islam: The Heritage of Rumi (Cambridge: Cam-bridge University Press, 1996), pp. 70–111; ‘Between the Yes and No: Ibn al-ʿArabi on Wujūd and the Innate Capacity,’ in Robert K.C. Forman (ed.), Innate Capacity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 98–100; Chit-tick, Ibn ʿArabi: Heir to the Prophets (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005), pp. 49–51 (Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi); for waḥdat al-shuhūd (the oneness of witnessing) see Chittick, ‘Waḥdat al-Shuhūd,’ in P. Bearman et al. (eds.), Encyclopedia of

69Ibn ʿArabi’s Influence on the Halveti–Gulsheni Order

textual analysis of these concepts constitutes a first step in studying how Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings permeated the Gulsheniye literature intended for audiences versed in advanced termi-nology and for younger Sufi aspirants seeking initiation to the order.5 What I am hoping to achieve is to expand our current knowledge about Ibn ʿ Arabi’s subtle influence on the Gulshenis, representative of Turkish- and Persian-speaking Sufis and ṭuru

˙k6

in the early modern period. This study methodologically con-nects historical and literary interpretations in Sufism studies.7

Islam, 2nd edn. (Brill Online, www.brillonline.nl/ (hereafter EI2)); Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, p. 36; ibid. pp. 36–8 (in separate sections of Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, the discussions of wujūd continues, pp. 40–51); for wilāyat/walāyat and walī (Ar. walīya, to be near, close; walāʾ and walāya, to be a friend of, to have authority; walī, close, neighboring, and awliyāʾ guardian, friend, intercessor, helper; wilāya, sovereign power, and in this context, a friend of God, and by extension a holy man, and a saint of God), see Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, pp. 11–25 and Michel Chodkiewicz, Seal of the Saints: Prophet-hood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn ʿArabi (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1993), pp. 12–15 (Chodkiewicz, Seal); also see n. 76; see Chod-kiewicz, Seal, pp. 60–88 for an analysis of the Muhammadan reality and the heirs of the Prophets; for ʿilm al-ladun (pure divine knowledge from God, the knowledge of the hidden and the secret, and divine inspiration poured into the heart); see Stephen Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier: The Spiritual Life and Thought of Ibn ʿArabi (Oxford, Anqa Publishing; Ash-land, OR., White Cloud Press, 1999), pp. 89–91. My textual analysis of Ibn ʿArabi’s influence on the Gulsheniye literature is interpretive and follows a conceptual thread that connects Gulsheni to the grand master through an examination of four anchor concepts. 5. I do not claim to have reached definitive answers in my research at

this time. It remains beyond the scope of this study to explore the distinc-tiveness of Gulsheni’s reading of Ibn ʿArabi when compared to his contem-poraries who were also influenced by Akbarian mystical theory.

6. Ar. plur. of ṭarīq, path, way that guides a novice toward the reality of God.7. Scholars today pay critical attention to historical contextualization in

their analysis of Sufism-related topics. See Cemal Kafadar, ‘Self and Others: Diary of a Dervish in the Seventeenth Century,’ Studia Islamica 69 (1989), 121–50 and, by the same author, ‘The New Visibility of Sufism in Turkish Studies and Cultural Life,’ in R. Lifchez (ed.), The Dervish Lodge: Architec-ture, Art and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey (Berkeley: University of California

70 Side Emre

Through a case study of select examples from the Gulsheniye corpus, I also hope to contribute to the cross-disciplinary dia-logues between cultural historians and Sufism scholars delin-eating Ibn ʿArabi’s intellectual and spiritual legacy in the early modern Ottoman cultural world.

Gulsheni, a charismatic Sufi master of Anatolian and Aqquyunlu origins, founded one of the most influential sub-branches of the Halvetiye order in the early modern Islamicate lands. Initially known as Shaykh İbrahimiler and later in Egypt as Gulsheniler, the order emerged as a prominent westward off-shoot of the 14th-century Halveti order in Persia, expanding into a network of lodges that by the 16th century had reached from Anatolia and the Balkans to Egypt.8 Well into his long and eventful career, Gulsheni fled Safavid violence in Tabriz to enter a decade-long exile in Anatolia, after which he reached Mamluk Cairo in c.1500–10. Hagiographies depict Gulsheni as confident in his decision to come to Cairo; while his followers disagreed on whether to base their order in Ottoman lands or in Egypt, Gulsheni settled the debate for good: ‘Saying “Rūm is the pasture of the soul and is here, and Egypt is the land of the rose garden and is illuminated”, he set out for Egypt.’9 In fact the impact of Egypt as a sacred haven was immense

Press, 1992), pp. 307–22; Alexander Knysh, ‘“Orthodoxy” and “Heresy” in Medieval Islam: An Essay in Reassessment,’ The Muslim World, vol. 83, no. 1 (1993), 48–67 (Knysh, ‘Orthodoxy’); Derin Terzioğlu, ‘Man in the Image of God in the Image of the Times: Sufi Self-Narratives and the Diary of Niyazi-i Mısri (1618–94),’ Studia Islamica, 94 (2002), 139–65. 8. See John Curry, The Transformation of Muslim Mystical Thought in

the Ottoman Empire: The Rise of the Halveti Order, 1350–1650 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2010) (Curry) for a history of the Halveti order and one of its sub-branches, the Şaʿbāniye, in Ottoman Anatolia. The Gul-sheniye lasted until the later 19th century in Egypt and its sub-branches continued activities in the Ottoman realms after that. 9. Muhyī-yi Gulsheni, Menāk. ıb-i İbrāhīm-i Gulsheni ve Şemleli-Zāde

Aḥmed Efendi Şīve-i Ṭarīk.at-ı Gulsheniye, ed. Tahsin Yazıcı (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 1982) (Muhyi). See p. 313: ‘Rūm merʿā-yi nefsdir ve bundadır ve Mıṣr mesken-i gülşen ve rūşendir deyub Mıṣra ʿazīmet ider.’ See also ibid. pp. 63–4, 314 for an additional discussion on the reasons for settling in Egypt.


on Gulsheni and found coverage in the order’s literature as a recurrent theme. The sentiments depicted in Gulsheni’s Turk-ish poetry, composed after his relocation in Cairo, reveals just how powerful the spiritual and emotional impact of settling in Egypt had been. He had already won a reputation as a popular Sufi master in Anatolia, establishing lodges and spreading the network of dervishes there, as he reminds his audiences in bit-tersweet reflections on his years of exile; but Gulsheni sings the praises of Egypt as his personal holy land, to which he has now brought the prestige of his large following:

Egypt is my home, shelter and residence,For that reason I have made it my lair … The only thing sold in Egypt is the beauty of Joseph

[so I have customers right and left],With customers, I am being inundated … It is the realm of love, the kingdom of affection.My pavilion and orchard are in the gardens of Egypt …10

There he established the Cairo Gulsheniye lodge complex and settled down for life. After the Ottomans conquered the region in 1517, the Cairo lodge remained the order’s main head-quarters, attracting a wide clientele that included members of the Ottoman and ex-Mamluk military establishment. Dervishes residing at the Cairo lodge produced early Gulsheniye mystical literature, while Gulsheni composed works in Anatolian Turk-ish and Persian. Some pieces copied under the supervision of Gulsheni became popular in Egypt and the Ottoman domains. Numerous manuscript versions and redactions of poetry collec-tions scattered in libraries across Turkey and Egypt attest to the breadth of the order’s audiences. Today, the Gulsheniye corpus – verse literature and hagiographical sources – remains a largely untapped source for the historian of early modern Sufism.11

10. Gulsheni, Dīvān, fol. 66; Gulsheni, Dīvān II, fol. 152. For Ottoman Turkish transliterations and explanations of jargon, see Side Emre, ‘İbra-him-i Gulsheni: Itinerant Saint and Cairene Ruler’, PhD diss., University of Chicago (2009) (Emre, ‘Gulsheni’), 164–5. 11. For an analysis of Gulsheniye literature and mystical culture, see

Side Emre, ‘Crafting Piety for Success: Gulsheniye Literature and Culture

72 Side Emre

Before exploring the reflections of the anchor concepts men-tioned above in the Gulsheniye corpus, I shall briefly introduce the order’s literature, its main authorial voice, and the works of Gulsheni.

GulSHENIyE lITERATuRE, ITS RECEPTION By SCHOlARS, MuHyI’S CONNECTION TO IBN ʿARABI,

AND THE THEMES OF GulSHENI’S PERSIAN vERSE-BOOk, THE maʿnevī

The order’s literature presents a dynamic repository of diverse inspirations in the 16th century. As has been argued else-where, the Gulsheniye corpus, and the mystical culture formed alongside it, was a product of its changing socio-political envi-ronment, not a replica of the doctrines and teachings of the order’s founder.12 Therefore, we cannot attribute a timeless core or unchanging stock of literary inspirations to the Gul-sheniye œuvre. Gulsheni’s inspirations included late medieval Anatolian frontier literary lore and the blueprint provided by his mentor, Ruşeni.13 In addition, poems of celebrated mystic poets such as Jalal al-Din Rumi (d.1273), Farid al-din ʿAttar (d.1221 or 1229), and Ibn al-Farid (d.1235) were also cited and referred to. under the leadership of its founder, the order com-bined the doctrines of other Sufi orders and mystical traditions, such as the Mevleviye. Prolific Gulsheni dervish authors had an immense influence in the composition and dissemination of this literature.

Perhaps the most famous representative of the Gulsheniye literature known today is Dervish Muhyi (or Muhyi Çelebi), who was born in 1528 in Edirne (formerly Adrianople). Muhyi’s grandfather, Ebu Talib, lived during the rule of the Aqquyunlu Sultan uzun Hasan, and died in the violence that marked Shah

in the Sixteenth Century,’ Journal of Sufi Studies, 1, no. 1 (2012): 31–75, (Emre, ‘Crafting Piety’). For an analysis of Gulsheni’s hagiographers, see ibid. 35–9. The main hagio-biographical source for Gulsheni’s life is Muhyi’s Menāk. ıb-i İbrāhīm-i Gulsheni. 12. Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 39–43, 71–5. 13. For a brief biography of Ruşeni, see ibid. 33, n. 5.


Ismaʿil’s conquest of the Aqquyunlu realms in the 1500s. The rise of the Safavids prompted Ebu Talib’s son, Fethullah Efendi, to take refuge in the Ottoman realms. Settling down in Edirne, Fethullah soon joined scholars and Sufis in a social network stretching from Edirne to Cairo and Istanbul. One of his sons, Muhyi began his madrasa education in Edirne and eventually left for Istanbul to continue his studies at the Ṣaḥn-i Semān14 in the mid- to late-1540s. In Istanbul, Muhyi attended the lectures of renowned scholars, while also establishing connections with many shaykhs. Indeed, early in his mystical career Muhyi fol-lowed the paths of the Naskhis, Ahraris, and kubrevis in turn, before affiliating himself permanently with the Gulsheniye and pledging submission to Gulsheni’s son and successor, Ahmed-i Hˬıyali in Cairo in 1553, marking the beginning of his tenure as the türbedār of the Cairo lodge. The Cairo years constitute the mature years of Muhyi as a dervish-author and a time when many of his works were completed.15

Muhyi’s hagiography of İbrahim-i Gulsheni is recognized today as the definitive biography of the order’s founder. In this text, Muhyi coined the term Fuṣūṣī to describe himself and other Gulshenis who defended Ibn ʿArabi’s Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam. While the term refers to a select and elite membership to the Akbarian school of thought from Muhyi’s perspective, it was a pejorative term according to the enemies of the Gulshenis, as we will see in the next section.

Indeed, Muhyi’s intellectual entanglement with Ibn ʿArabi, which began when he was a teenager, continued throughout his adult years and repeatedly surfaced in his writings. For instance, his Kitab-i nefhatü’l-eshār (Breaths of Enchantments), a treatise of 2353 verses written when the author was sixty years old (1588–89), includes Muhyi’s mystical experiences, the

14. Ṣaḥn-i Semān (Medāris-i Thamāniyye), the eight madrasas (col-leges) founded by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II as part of the ancillaries to the Fātiḥ Mosque, the whole forming a külliyye (complex) completed in 1471. 15. See my forthcoming article, ‘On the Cusp of Divine Truths and the

Everlasting Quest for Knowledge: The Intellectual World of Muhyi-i Gulsh-eni (d.c.1606)’ (to be submitted to the Journal of Sufi Studies).

74 Side Emre

mysticism of Ibn ʿArabi, his interpretations of waḥdat al-wujūd, and other mystical concepts inspired by Ibn ʿArabi. Ibn ʿArabi’s legacy in the mystical culture of the Gulsheniye order was a complex one, which dervish authors, such as Muhyi, addressed in creative ways throughout the 16th century.16

While the Gulsheniye was not the only order that referred to and adapted the teachings of Ibn ʿ Arabi, it remains the only one whose founder was summoned to Istanbul for interrogation on charges of heresy because of literature that had allusions to Ibn ʿArabi.17 In fact, the main points of reference in the fatwās of

16. Mecmu’ā-yi Muhyi, Cairo Dar al-Qutub, Bab al-Khalq, fols. 1b–23b. 17. See Eric Geoffroy, Le Soufisme en Égypte et en Syrie sous les derniers

Mamelouks et les premiers Ottomans (Damascus: IFEAD, 1995), pp. 243–9 and 252–9 for the author’s argument about the instrumental roles of Turk-ish and Persian Sufi orders in spreading the teachings of Ibn ʿ Arabi in Mam-luk and Ottoman Egypt. On Sultan Süleyman’s grand vizier İbrahim Pasha’s (d.1536) decision to scrutinize the Maʿnevī and the events surrounding the decision, see Muhyi, pp. 401–10. For a full analysis of Gulsheni’s inter-rogation in Istanbul see Emre, Power Brokers and Pious Entrepreneurs: A Political History of the Halveti–Gulsheni Order of Dervishes in Egypt and the Ottoman Empire, c.1440–1650 (currently under review with a university press), Chap. 9, sections titled ‘İbrahim Pasha at Sultan Süleyman’s court after 1525 and Gulsheni’s summoning to İstanbul’ and ‘The conquest of İstanbul: Dynamics of Gulsheni’s various interrogations.’ I did not encoun-ter evidence in Arabic sources whether Egyptian learned elites disciplined Gulsheni because of his affinity with and proliferation of the teachings of Ibn ʿArabi. Reactions against and efforts to discipline the Gulshenis regard-ing this issue originate mainly from the complaints of the members of the Ottoman learned hierarchy. Two important examples that post-date Gulsh-eni in this context are Mevlana Muhyiddin Arabzade and Mevlana Shaykh Mehmed bin Ilyas Çivizade. In both cases, records of the judges’ denials and condemnation of Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings and their attempts to pun-ish the Gulshenis, as they were assumed to have been affiliated with the Akbarian school of thought, go hand in hand. See Muṣṭafā ʿĀlī Gelibolulu, Künhü’l-Ahˬbār. Dördüncü Rükn, Osmanlı Tarihi. C.I. Tıpkıbasım (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 2009), Künhü’l-Ahbâr, fols. 382a, 372b. (This facsimile is based on the Türk Tarih Kurumu KTP Y/546.) Also see Muhyi, pp. 381–4 about the conflict of Shaykh Karamani with the chief jurisconsult Ebussuud Efendi because of the former’s defense of the concept of the unity of being.


chief jurisconsult kemal Paşazade on the maʿnevī, Gulsheni’s Persian verse-book, and on Ibn ʿArabi constitutes significant markers of Ottoman ruling and religious elite views on concepts in circulation at the time about Ibn ʿArabi’s influence in mysti-cal discourse, how Sufis situated themselves in society vis-à-vis the scholars, how they incorporated the concepts of the grand master in their own teachings, and the scope of their reach over matters traditionally addressed by the religious elites.18

Thus, Muhyi is relieved to note in this hagiography of Gulsh-eni that kemal Paşazade, after an initial review of the maʿnevī, decided that the work’s contents were not intended for ahl-i ṣūrat – people who rely on the manifest or what is outwardly visible to the eye. Those people, kemal Paşazade added, can-not comprehend the maʿnevī’s intrinsic value and signs which revolved around themes including select commentary of the Quranic sūras and the Hadith, as well as the discovery of the hidden meanings of Prophet Muhammad’s words. Since the maʿnevī contained the sublime secrets of the divine, it was only to be expected that the ahl-i ilāhī should be trusted in their understanding and it was essential that their spirituality and knowledge should be consulted to decipher the maʿnevī’s hid-den meanings.19 As we will see, the contents of the maʿnevī were heavily influenced by the mystical concepts attributed to Ibn ʿArabi and the Akbarian school of thought.

The Gulsheniye literary output and its dervishes, begin-ning with Gulsheni himself in c.1528, were investigated and

18. Hüseyin Atay, ‘ʿİlmi bir tenkit örneği olarak İbn Kemal Paşa’nın Muhyiddin b. Arabi Hakkında Fetvası,’ in Şeyhülislam İbn Kemal Sempozyumu, Tebliğler ve Tartışmalar (Ankara: Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı Yayınları, 1986), pp. 267–8; for the text of the fatwā, see Mahmut Kaya, ‘Ibn-i Kemal’in Düşünce Tarihimizdeki Yeri ve Varlık Anlayışı,’ Türk Tarihinde ve Türk Kültüründe Tokat Sempozyumu, 2–6 Temmuz 1986 (Tokat, Turkey: Tokat Valil-iği Şeyhülislam Ibn Kemal Araştırma Merkezi, 1987), 598–9 (Kaya). For an analysis of Kemal Paşazade’s reception of Ibn ʿArabi’s hagiology, see Tim Winter, ‘Ibn Kemāl (d.940/1534) on Ibn ʿArabī’s Hagiology’ in Ayman Shi-hadeh (ed.), Sufism and Theology (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007), pp. 137–57.19. Muhyi, pp. 421–2.

76 Side Emre

interrogated by the members of the Ottoman ʿulemā, includ-ing chief jurisconsults such as kemal Paşazade (d.1534) and Ebussuud Efendi (d.1573).20 As far as the information in Muhyi and the opinions of the jurists indicate, Gulsheni’s ideas were not regarded as threatening or damaging enough by the mem-bers of the Ottoman learned hierarchy to disrupt the order of the realm or directly challenge the political legitimacy of the house of Osman.21 I think that this was the main reason why he did not suffer official persecution. However, based on my analy-sis of hagiographies and histories, I cannot claim that Ottoman audiences unanimously agreed that Gulsheni’s ideas, literature, and the Gulsheniye mystical culture fit in with the Ottoman Sunni attitudes of the day – despite the favorable opinion of Ebussuud Efendi to that effect (‘Ol aziz ehl-i Sünnet i’tikadı üzere idi.’)22 The controversies surrounding the Gulshenis throughout the 16th and 17th centuries prove otherwise. Gulsheni’s writ-ings and the Gulsheniye rituals were under close scrunity, crit-icism, and at times, under attack both in Cairo and Istanbul by different audiences – Ottoman and Egyptian – while he was alive and after his death.23

20. For a detailed account of the rivalry and bad blood between Gulsheni Shaykh Karamani and Ebussuud Efendi, see Muhyi, pp. 379, 381–4. For the decision of Kemāl Paşazade regarding the Maʿnevī, see Muhyi, pp. 421–2. For Ebusuud’s favorable opinion on Gulsheni see Ocak, Zındıklar, pp. 360–1; as cited in Ocak from Şeyhülislām Ebussuud Efendi Fetvaları ışığında 16, asır Türk hayatı, Mehmet Ertuğrul Düzdağ (İstanbul: Enderun Kitabevi, 1972), pp. 192–6 (Düzdağ, Ebussuud). For Ebussuud Efendi, see J. Schacht, ‘ʿAbu’l-Suʿūd Muḥammad b. Muḥyi ’l-Dīn Muḥ. b. al-ʿImād Muṣṭafā al-ʿImādī’ in EI2. For Kemal Paşazade, see V.L. Ménage, ‘Kemāl Pasha-Zāde’ in EI2. For the vendetta of Çivizade Efendi against the Gulshenis and his denunciation of Ibn ʿArabi, see Künhü’l-Ahbâr, fol. 372b. 21. See Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 68–71. This theme is expanded in Emre,

Power Brokers, Chap. 6.22. Düzdağ, Ebussuud.23. For a deeper analysis of this issue, see Emre, Power Brokers, Chap.

6 entitled: ‘Heresy, Religious Innovation, and Law in Egypt, c.1522–25.’ I argue that Gulsheni’s position as an alleged mülḥid and innovator was defined from different perspectives by different audiences and remained a fluid concept in Ottoman-ruled Egypt. Unlike contemporaries who were


The 1528 event, which resulted with the above-mentioned opinion by kemal Paşazade, represents the first instance in which Muhyi defends Gulsheni’s maʿnevī, against accusations of heresy in the Ottoman court of Sultan Süleyman.24 The ebbs and flows of the order’s relations with the Ottoman religious establishment reflect, on one level, the fluctuating attitudes towards both the mysticism of Ibn ʿArabi – venerated as the patron saint of the Ottomans during the reigns of Sultan Selim (d.1520) and Sultan Süleyman (d.1566) – and towards adapta-tions of concepts attributed to him as the Ottoman state pro-gressed towards a well-articulated confessional Sunni identity during the second half of Süleyman’s rule.25

In this larger framework, it is interesting to note that the jargon and contents of Muhyi’s rendering of kemal Paşazade’s opinion on the maʿnevī draws parallels with the earlier text of kemal Paşazade’s fatwā on Ibn ʿArabi, which helped rein-force the position of the shakyh al-akbar in the early modern

accused of similar acts, he was not tried in a formal court. And yet accu-sations against the Gulshenis continued to accumulate after his death. In their accusations, Gulsheni’s adversaries – Ottoman, Mamlūk, and Ara-bic-speaking Egyptian audiences – accused him of being a rafızī (Shiʿi her-etic), a mülḥid (pantheist), and a potential defector to Shah Ismaʿil.24. Muhyi, pp. 432–4. 25. See Jane Clark, ‘Early Best-sellers in the Akbarian Tradition,’ JMIAS,

33 (2003): 13–15 for the influence of Ibn ʿArabi in Ottoman lands (espe-cially n. 52); for an analysis of the meanings of speculation in mystical tra-ditions, see Marshall G.S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization, vol. 2 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), pp. 230–4; for a detailed historical analysis of heresy, Ottoman religious ideology, and heretical Sufi orders, see Ocak, Zındıklar, especially pp. 119–31; for an analysis of Ottoman religious ideology in the age of Sul-tan Süleyman, see Emre, ‘Gulsheni’, 292–312; see Denis Gril, ‘The Enigma of the Shajara al-nuʿmāniyya fī’l-dawla al-ʿUthmāniyya, attributed to Ibn ʿArabī,’ in Benjamin Lellouch and Stéphane Yerasimos (eds.), Les Traditions Apocalyptiques au Tournant de la Chute de Constantinople, Actes de la Table ronde d’Istanbul, 13–14 avril 1996 (Paris: l’Institut français d’études ana-toliennes Georges-Dumézil, Harmattan; Istanbul, 2000), p. 135. See also a note in an English translation of the same piece available online at www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/shajaranumaniyya.html#note9.

http://www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/shajaranumaniyya.html

http://www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/shajaranumaniyya.html

78 Side Emre

Ottoman cultural world. kemal Paşazade, as a follower of the Akbarian school of thought, says that:

Ibn ʿArabi was the qutb of the knowers (Ar. ʿārif) and the imām of the ones who believe in the unity of God (Ar. muwaḥḥid). He was a perfect mujtahid as well as a virtuous and supreme teacher/guide. His magnificent deeds and his numerous students were accepted by the virtuous ones and the learned. Those who antagonize him and those who stubbornly insist in their positions to discredit him can be considered as having gone astray. It is because of this reason that the sultan should punish those and convince them to give up their wayward ways [against Ibn ʿArabi.] The sultan is obliged to order that which is good and eliminate the bad. Ibn ʿArabi has many works. Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam and al-Futūḥāt al-makkiyya are among them. Some issues in these works are manifest and can be understood as their meanings and sense are clear: these are in agreement with the divine orders and the law brought by Prophet Muhammad. However, some other issues are hard to understand and to comprehend for those who are knowledgeable only in the realm of the ẓāhir. These issues can only be understood by those who are immersed in the bāṭin and kashf. For those who lack the insight to understand that which is being sought to convey, it is best to keep silent. As God orders: ‘Do not chase that which you do not understand or know. Without doubt, the ear, the eye, and the heart, all of these become responsible from that thing.’26

While the accusations of heresy and religious innovation including allusions and reflections of Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings constituted a stigma that Muhyi felt called to explain through-out his career, the order’s literature hardly needed any other apologetic commentary. In fact, the Gulsheniye’s diverse lit-erary production spanned several centuries and reflected the socio-cultural and psychological make-up of both its founder and its dervishes. This literature gave evidence of inclusive and flexible boundaries of meşreb and neşe, manners and conduct in rituals and litanies, as well as an open-minded attitude vis-à-vis the practices of other Sufi paths.27 Some works, such as the

26. The text of the fatwā is in Kaya, 598–9; the translation is mine. 27. Süleyman Uludağ, Tasavvuf Terimleri Sözlüğü (İstanbul: Marifet


Anatolian Turkish dīwān collections and especially the Persian verse-book maʿnevī gained wide audiences and helped dissemi-nate the teachings of Ibn ʿArabi voiced through the Gulsheniye neşe.

The maʿnevī’s status as a ‘special book’ is an oft-repeated theme in the hagiographies.28 What were some of the char-acteristics that make a book sui generis in its author’s vision? Gulsheni is not elusive on this topic. To capture his readers’ attention, he evokes sensory metaphors and imagery to com-municate the uniqueness of the maʿnevī: he says that the lan-guage of the maʿnevī is sweet. With such sweetness, it reveals coveted knowledge to a select few. The willing abdāls will become ecstatic with the pleasure of reading it, imbibing the revelation of the maʿnevī’s wine as though tasting from a heav-enly river.29 In the maʿnevī, Gulsheni further replicates a strong message with a promise in the form of a written text for the Sufi aspirant – one that brings both controversy and increased popularity to the order.

Throughout the prologue and the main text, Gulsheni con-tinues to explain the maʿnevī’s unique status. He emphasizes that the maʿnevī’s symbols and imagery remain hidden from the glances of the ordinary eye and, as privileged knowledge, its secrets can only be unlocked when read with the eye of the

Yayınları, 1992), pp. 362, 407 (Uludağ). I define meşreb as one’s innate nature, a way of being and living, an inclination towards a particular man-ner of speech, conduct, and behavior. Each meşreb is comprised of idiosyn-cratic characteristics and gives the person a subjective perception of the world, the cosmos, and human beings. Meşreb complements neşe (ibid. p. 407) in meaning and can be translated as spiritual pleasure, distinctive culture, and humor. I refer to meşreb and neşe in the Gulsheniye order’s literature as representative of a dervish’s idiosyncratic nature, his being, psychological and cultural make-up, humor, manners and conduct, out-look on life, perception of the Sufi path, and his everyday existence in connection with the journey on the path to perfection. 28. Muhyi, pp. 300–2; see, for example, Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 378v,

line 37: ‘Der sitāyish-i rū Maʿnevī ki tābesh-i ʿālam żiyā ez vujūd-i zerrest’, ‘Regarding the praise of Maʿnevī which had emanated from the essence of the particle of the illuminosity from the realm of light.’

29. Maʿnevī HE272, prologue, fol. 3r.

80 Side Emre

heart. The light sealed in the layers of the maʿnevī is as lumi-nous as the knowledge of the divine in the world.30 Gulsheni establishes the maʿnevī’s verses as privileged knowledge by lik-ening its verses to God’s revelation: ‘maʿnevī comes from the inspiration of God. Because of the eternity of God’s revelation, maʿnevī is infinite. Its words are like God’s revelations.’31 Gul-sheni says that those who desire the treasure of meaning (Pers. javhar-i maʿnā) seek it in the maʿnevī. The willing Sufi aspirant, in this scenario, dives deep into the sea of maʿnevī. He looks for the pearl of apparently small value, and this pearl will unexpect-edly enrich the heart of the seeker.32 Gulsheni also stresses the importance of connecting the Sufi aspirant with a master well versed in exploring the world of maʿnā.33 Almost all of these themes adapted Ibn ʿArabi’s thought for the audiences that the Gulsheniye sought to recruit. Gulsheni did not exclusively address the urgency of attaining divine knowledge. Two core concepts – the indispensable mission of saints and the eternal quest for the meaning of truth, both of which are discussed in the section Wilāyat and ʿilm al-ladun below – connect Gulsheni to Ibn ʿArabi and also constitute a central place in the maʿnevī.34

Gulsheni tells his readers that the composition style of the maʿnevī is as novel as its content. Its rhyme and meter are like a pearl necklace, pure and clear.35 The maʿnevī’s pearl is the

30. Maʿnevī HE272, prologue, fol. 1r. 31. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 381v, line 38: ‘Maʿnevī comes from the inspi-

ration of God. Because of the eternity of God’s revelation, Maʿnevī is infinite. Its words came from God’s revelation.’32. Ibid. line 6. 33. Maʿnā: sense, meaning signification, virtue, spirituality. For the

intricate allegory of the chess game, the path of the novice and the responsibilities of the spiritual master, see Gulsheni, Persian Dīvān. İstanbul Süleymaniye Library, Fatih 3866. This manuscript was copied by Hamza bin Abdullah, 931/1525. (Dīvān, F3866), fols. 499v–504v. 34. The Maʿnevī is comprised of over 40,000 verses. My analysis

focuses on a select body of sections and themes in them that reflect Ibn ʿArabi’s influence. 35. Ibid. fol. 383r, lines 1–18. Here Gulsheni also says that he com-

pleted the Maʿnevī in the month of Receb in 922/August 1516; he adds that it took a full year to finish.


chosen one from the sea of the heart; the verses that house it are the treasure of the city of the heart. The rhyme of the maʿnevī’s verses is the city of maʿnā. The maʿnevī’s ramz (symbol, hid-den sign), just like a muʿammā (riddle, mystery), contains sym-bols and insinuations.36 In further explaining how this puzzle came into being, Gulsheni addresses the novice: ‘young one, the maʿnevī’s verses, which are like pieces looking like a whole, contain an extensive culture. The verses are the part and the whole. The maʿnevī came into being from the confluence and divergence of the part and the whole. Its ṣūrat (form, manner) and maʿnā, likewise came into being from this.’37 According to Gulsheni, the very meaning of the maʿnevī (that which relates to the signification of words) is that which remains true, real, absolute, and spiritual in the universe. Its essence emerges from maʿnā.38 While the maʿnevī, with its thematic allusions to Ibn ʿArabi, remained such a uniquely positioned text within the Gulsheniye literature, the order’s dervishes also produced other texts to secure the legacy of their founder and form a niche for the Halveti–Gulshenis in Egypt and the wider Ottoman realms.

Within that corpus, Muhyi’s menāḳıb-i İbrahim-i Gulsheni is one of the main sources for the life and career of İbrahim-i Gul-sheni.39 While Muhyi’s narrative is a fascinating read, a brief word of caution regarding its nature and limitations are in order. Hagiographies often reflect the ‘realities’ and ‘mentalities’ of a different era than the ones they claim to be about. For instance,

36. Ibid. fol. 379r, line 15. 37. Ibid. line 16:

Chūn sevād-i ʿaẓamest ey fetāNaẓm-i beyt-i Maʿnevī juz kull numā Jemʿ ū farḳ-i juz u kull nisbet be hem Ṣūret ū maʿnī-yiʾ naẓmesh kerde żamm

38. Ibid. fol.1 5v, line 43. 39. For the most recent scholarship on Muhyi, see Mustafa Koç,

‘Osmanlı’da Esperanto, İlk Yapma Dil Balaybelen, İlk Yapma Dilin Kurucusu Muhyî-i Gülşenî’, Osmanli IX (Ankara, 1999): 463–7; and by the same author, Bâleybelen Muhyî-i Gülşenî: İlk yapma dil (İstanbul: Klasik, 2005) (Koç, Bâleybelen). Koç successfully decoded Muhyi’s artificial language and dictionary (Kavâid-i Bâlibîlen).

82 Side Emre

while Muhyi’s menāḳıb is supposed to be exclusively about Gul-sheni’s life and career, it also serves as a literary medium to include segments of a first-person autobiographical narrative on Muhyi. As such, there is extensive detail on Muhyi’s ‘now’ along-side the events preserved in recent, or distant, memory about his primary subject, Gulsheni. Accordingly, in Muhyi’s hagiog-raphy, not only do we find a composite uber-text of history of events as old as a hundred years, but we also witness a rich array of human experiences in the world inhabited by Muhyi. That is why the authorial choices of hagiographers often reveal subtle, sometimes obvious, political tones, ambivalence on the ruling dynasties and people they are commenting on, and viewpoints that do not surface in other texts, such as chronicles.40 We can, for instance, find a direct correlation between the heresy accusa-tions made against the Gulshenis during Muhyi’s lifetime with his focus on the same theme surfacing during the lifetime of his subject matter – hence the detailed account on the Fuṣūṣīs in Aqquyunlu Persia in the menāḳıb. The complexities regarding how to approach hagiographies and a Sufi order’s literary pro-duction do not end here.

literary scholarship tends to categorize the Gulsheniye cor-pus as urban-based tekke (dervish lodge) literature within a ‘Sunni Sufi’ genre dedicated chiefly to disseminating religious ideas. While an analysis of the development of tekke literature beginning with its roots in the poetry of Ahmad yesevi (d.1166) and yunus Emre (d.1320) – emphasized as the founders of tekke poetry for Anatolian Turks – is informative for understand-ing the context behind the formation of the genre, it must be underlined that literary genre distinctions, inspirations, and

40. In order to verify hagiographical data, I cross-reference their infor-mation with other sources – such as inshā collections, biographical dictio-naries, verse-literature, and chronicles – that belong to the time period of the subject matter. For instance, Muhyi’s comments on al-Bidlīsī (d.1520) and his interactions with Gulsheni can be verified by al-Bidlīsī’s writings penned in early 16th century. See the poem on fols. 8b–9a in Divan-i Qadi ʿIsa va Najm al-Din Masʿud (Muallim Cevdet O. 121, Ankara Atatürk Kita-plığı) and compare the poem with the one in Muhyi, pp. 81–2. I would like to thank Christopher Markiewicz for sharing the manuscript citation.


confessional identity markers between members of different Sufi orders were not categorized for the Islamicate medieval and early modern periods. The identification of Sufi orders such as Ruşeniye or Gulsheniye – important sub-branches of the Hal-veti order that had originated in 14th-century Persia – as part of a larger ‘Turkish cultural heritage’ needs reconsideration.41 Gulsheni, known originally as Shaykh İbrahim, strongly iden-tified with the political cause of the Aqquyunlu Confederation in Persia. While he was of Turcoman and possibly kurdish ori-gins, he did not refer to himself with either designation in his poetry. Gulsheni’s cultural roots lay deep in Anatolia and Persia. He composed poetry primarily in Anatolian Turkish and Per-sian, and there exists only one known copy of an Arabic dīwān collection attributed to him. In his Turkish verse poetry, we fre-quently see references to Egypt, a safe haven he praised and where he settled down in c.1510.42 While Gulsheni describes

41. Gönül Tekin refers to the literary productions of Sufi orders such as Kadiriye, Halvetiye, and Mevleviye as urban-center-based tekke litera-ture and considers them to be in a distinct category from dīvān and folk literature. She argues that tekke poetry, as representative of Turkish folk literature, adopted elements from both dīvān and folk literature, while its religious and philosophical views differed from both. Tekke literature also remained distinct from ʿaşık literature throughout the 12th and 13th centuries. She characterizes 14th- and 15th-century tekke poetry as reli-gious literature with a component of music and song, designed to spread views of Sufi orders exclusively in Islamic Anatolia. She situates the poetry of Ruşeni, which, for her, exemplifies dry and didactic tekke literature, under ‘Sunni Sufi poetry’ and as distinct from ‘Malami-Hamzavi’ and ‘ʿAlawi-Baktashi (Qizilbash)’ poetry. Tekin also lists Gulsheni’s poetry under this ‘Sunni Sufi’ genre, to which Ruşeni belongs. The discussion whether Gulshenis were Sunni or Twelver Shiʿi is a problematic issue which I discuss elsewhere (Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 8). Gönül A. Tekin in Islamic Spirituality: Manifestations, vol. 20 of World Spirituality: An Encyclopedic History of the Religious Quest, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997), pp. 350–61.42. For a discussion of Gulsheni’s choice of Egypt over Ottoman-ruled

Anatolia, see Emre, Power Brokers, Chaps. 1 and 2. I argue that pro-Sufi attitudes held by the Mamluks of Egypt played a part in the decision to settle in Egypt, as well as the history of Alaeddin, brother of Gulsheni’s spiritual mentor, Ruşeni, with the Ottomans: Alaeddin-i Halveti (who, like

84 Side Emre

himself as an ʿajamī, a non-Arabic speaker and from Persia, his literary inspirations and the content of the order’s literature were diverse, expressing a flexible and expansive inspirational and devotional palette composed mostly in the vernacular.43

An initial textual analysis of select sections in a number of major works attributed to Gulsheni – the Turkish, Persian, and Arabic dīwān collections and the Persian verse-book maʿnevī – reveals Ibn ʿArabi’s influence. When I say influence, I do not mean that we can find direct textual references from Ibn ʿArabi’s works used verbatim in the Gulsheniye literature. How-ever, we do see adaptations of concepts from the body of liter-ature attributed to Ibn ʿArabi and his school of thought in the order’s literary production. Interpretations and adaptations of Ibn ʿArabi’s philosophy and teachings helped to form Gulsh-eniye mystical culture and to lay the foundation for the order’s legacy in the Ottoman realms. While this finding does not mean that Ibn ʿArabi was the only inspiration for the order’s literature – Gulsheni’s muses were indeed numerous – it empha-sizes Ibn ʿArabi’s hitherto unrecognized significance. This claim may come as no surprise to Sufism scholars well versed in Ibn ʿArabi’s widespread impact on the Islamicate intellectual and spiritual topography: Michel Chodkiewicz, for instance, calls this phenomenon ‘the diffusion of Ibn ʿ Arabi’s doctrine.’44 How-ever, Ibn ʿArabi’s influence on the Gulsheniye order’s literature,

Ruşeni, was also one of Yahya Şirvani’s prominent deputies) had a falling out with the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II and was asked to leave Istanbul. He left for the rival Karamanid dynasty. Unlike his brother, Ruşeni did not go back to Anatolia or his hometown Aydın after he got his investiture from Şirvani. I think that Gulsheni followed in his master’s footsteps and decided to stay clear of the Ottoman orbit for as long as he could. The close meşreb affinity Gulsheni shared with Ruşeni suggests that the ecstatic Shaykh İbrahimis, similar to the experiences of Alaeddin-i Halveti, would not have been welcome in Ottoman lands. 43. See Emre, ‘Crafting Piety.’44. Michel Chodkiewicz, ‘The Diffusion of Ibn ʿArabi’s Doctrine,’ JMIAS,

9 (1991): 36–57 (Chodkiewicz, ‘Diffusion’). I consulted the online ver-sion: www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/diffusion.html; see also Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, pp. 1–9.

http://www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/diffusion.html


and in the context of early modern Ottoman Sufism, remain unstudied today despite the founder’s reputation as a Fuṣūṣī – a devoted follower, defender, and interpreter of Ibn ʿArabi’s Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam in late 15th-century Aqquyunlu Persia.45

DEFENDING IBN ʿARABI: ORIGINS OF A SPIRITuAl INFluENCE IN GulSHENIyE CulTuRE

Gulsheni belonged to an eclectic and far-flung group of Turkish- and Persian-speaking Sufi masters within the Halvetiye order, who were initiated into and educated in the mysticism of Ibn ʿArabi. Gulsheni defended Ibn ʿArabi against some members of the Aqquyunlu religious hierarchy and adapted his concepts for his own literary works, as did various successors to other Halveti sub-branches in the 16th and 17th centuries.46

45. For a concise analysis of Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikam and its commentaries, see Chittick, ‘The School of Ibn ʿArabi,’ in History of Islamic Philosophy (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 515–21. In the hagiographical and biographical dictionary entries I examined, I was not able to trace the Fuṣūṣī designa-tion beyond the Ruşeni and Gulsheni communities and networks, which included Muhyi as the only 16th-century Fuṣūṣī. None of Gulsheni’s suc-cessors between 1534 and 1615 were referred to as Fuṣūṣīs. Outside of the Gulsheniye orbit, I have not encountered particular references to other individuals from the Ottoman learned hierarchy designated definitively as Fuṣūṣīs. 46. Chodkiewicz underlines that the Halvetiye and its different

branches were influenced by Ibn ʿArabi; Chodkiewicz, ‘Diffusion.’ For an account of a 15th-century Halveti shaykh teaching the works of Ibn ʿArabi, see Curry, p. 53; also see Curry, pp. 145–6 and especially n. 107 on how Ibn ʿArabi’s cosmological teachings and theories on sainthood were sim-plified by Şaʿbāniye Sufis (in this specific case, by Ömer Fuʾādī) for their provincial audiences in 17th-century Ottoman realms. For other reflections of Ibn ʿArabi in the literary works of Fuʾādī, see Curry, p. 254. For insight into the futility of seeking direct textual comparisons between Ibn ʿArabi’s works and Fuʾādī’s, see Curry, pp. 259–60. I agree with Curry that the main aim of Fuʾādī had been to spread the order’s teachings, expand its membership, and most importantly to confront the anti-Sufi movements of the time by educating the Muslim communities in the provinces about their local Sufi institutions and saints. Gulsheni’s position differed, depending inevitably on the context in which he lived in and the times,

86 Side Emre

The roots of Ibn ʿArabi’s influence ran deep in Gulsheni’s early formation as a young Sufi progressing on the spiritual path in c.1460, though we lack conclusive information as to when exactly Gulsheni first encountered his teachings. Hagi-ographical evidence juxtaposes Gulsheni’s initiation into the Halveti–Ruşeni path with his first exposure to Ibn ʿArabi. His spiritual mentor, Dede Ömer Ruşeni of Aydın, Anatolia (d.1487) – the founder of the Halveti–Ruşeni Sufi order in Aqquyunlu Azerbaijan and Persia) – was influenced by Ibn ʿArabi and edu-cated his disciples in Ibn ʿArabi’s thinking. References in Muhyi detail how the master and disciple ran into trouble by defend-ing the Fuṣūṣ:47

It has been told that Shaykh Gulsheni related the following while he was in a gathering in Egypt, praising the Fuṣūṣ: ‘At the time of Dede [Ruşeni], the mollās of karabagh repudiated Shaykh Muhyi al-din ʿArabi may God be pleased with him and burned his Fuṣūṣ wherever they found it and further attacked the Dede.’ As such it was told, after the Dede passed away, the honorable shaykh [hereafter Gulsheni] was passing the winter in karabagh with [Aqquyunlu] Sultan yaqub. That very same winter Gulsheni engaged in numerous disputes and discussions with the scholars and virtuous ones who arrived from various provinces. He [Gulsh-eni] had the intention to settle, for good, the obscure and difficult points and issues found in the Fuṣūṣ one by one during discus-sion(s) in each and every gathering, [since he wanted to have] as many such points repeated from the books of Shaykh Muhyi al-din ʿArabi. After several repetitive sessions, during which the difficult and complex passages of the Fuṣūṣ were discussed, it became clear that their meaning was comprehended only by a few. After numerous gatherings Gulsheni said: ‘you denied Shaykh al-Akbar’s Fuṣūṣ and burned it at your homes. On what evidence did you commit this dishonest act? Choose four mollās from among yourselves, and let us discuss without animosity to find out the truth about which one of us is correct.’ That winter,

from that of other Halveti sub-branch successors in the late 16th and 17th centuries, such as Fuʾādī.47. References are numerous. See Muhyi, pp. 88–92, 129, 180–1, 212–

14.


every single scholar under yaqub’s rule came [to karabagh] to dis-cuss and hold debates on this matter. After initial inquiries that lasted several days and nights, Gulsheni persevered. Four schol-ars chose four learned ones and began examining the Fuṣūṣ with Gulsheni. They opened up every suspicious passage and observed that Gulsheni had discussed it previously. Gulsheni responded [to their inquiries] in a correct and polished manner, explaining [the issues] with reference to the sacred law and exalted jurisprudence. They were said to have been satisfied. Consequently, those who eventually became [Gulsheni’s] novices were many. Saying they were comforted, these men surrendered to Gulsheni, repented, and joined the order; some of them were given the ritual forty-day seclusion [ḫalvete koyub] …48

This episode, one of several in which Muhyi details the con-troversies surrounding the Fuṣūṣ and the Fuṣūṣīs, also shows Gulsheni’s efforts to explain suspect passages in the Fuṣūṣ within the parameters of Islamic law and jurisprudence in order to eradicate accusations of kufr (unbelief). In fact, most of the controversy surrounding the Fuṣūṣ arose from the numerous Quranic āyāt referenced and interpreted in the text. According to Muhyi, during one confrontation Ruşeni, probably intimi-dated by his interlocutors, had said that he was not an advo-cate of the grand master but did value his writings. In another episode, Ruşeni confronted the learned ones who attempted to burn the book, saying that it would be a great mistake to do so since there were so many āyāt in the Fuṣūṣ. Ruşeni’s audiences must have interpreted this explanation itself as pure blasphemy. How could someone insinuate that burning the Fuṣūṣ would be like burning the Quran? As a result of this confrontation, Ruşeni was charged and taken to the Aqquyunlu capital Tabriz for investigation.49 The details of Ruşeni’s interrogation res-onate with the summoning of Gulsheni, years later, to Istan-bul on similar charges based on the controversial passages in his maʿnevī, which also included interpretations of numerous chapters of the Quran and the Hadith.

48. Muhyi, pp. 180–1. 49. Ibid. pp. 88–9.

88 Side Emre

Modern scholarship on medieval Islamic socio-religious his-tory focuses on the fluidity in perceptions of concepts such as orthodoxy, heterodoxy, heresy, and unbelief.50 To prove the point, experts today concentrate on medieval interpretations of Ibn ʿArabi’s writings, textually analysing his mystical doctrines in a historical context to depict how divided his heritage had become in the collective memory of the confessionally Mus-lim communities. The episodes such as the ones related above, in fact, reveal how inconsistently the 15th-century Aqquyunlu religious establishment defined kufr. As hagiographical evi-dence relates, there was no consensus among the learned ones, Sufis, and members of the court regarding the validity of the accusations against the Fuṣūṣ and its interpreters or teachers. We learn from Muhyi that the Aqquyunlu sultans uzun Hasan and yaqub did not give much credit to the actions of the anti-Fuṣūṣ camps, although they were interested in listening to and participating in discussions and debates surrounding the Fuṣūṣ. However, the accusations of heresy and blasphemy against Ibn ʿArabi’s doctrines remained a burning issue and part of his leg-acy, as did the dilemma of whether he had been a saint or a her-etic. Ibn ʿArabi’s reception in the medieval and early modern Islamicate lands presents us with a wide spectrum of divided readership, attesting to his impact on Islamic mysticism and philosophy.51

It is within this context that we should evaluate Muhyi’s extensive coverage of Gulsheni’s and Ruşeni’s debates with the

50. For an overview see Terzioğlu, 357–64. Also, see Ahmed El Shamsy, ‘The Social Construction of Orthodoxy,’ in Tim Stewart (ed.), The Cam-bridge Companion to Classical Islamic Theology (Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008); Devin Stewart, Islamic Legal Orthodoxy: Twelver Shiite Responses to the Sunni Legal System (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1998).51. Knysh, ‘Orthodoxy,’ 48–53, and by the same author, ‘Ibn ʿArabi

in the Later Islamic Tradition,’ in Stephen Hirtenstein and Michael Tiernan (eds.), Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi: A Commemorative Volume (Shaftesbury, Dor-set: Element, 1993), pp. 307–27; for the historical background on the reception of Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings in the Ottoman context see Terzioğlu, 364–9.


conservative ʿulamā (Ar. plur. of ʿālim, religious scholars, doc-tors of Islamic law and theology) of karabagh in Aqquyunlu Persia, some of whom took part in the public and private burnings of the Fuṣūṣ. Muhyi’s preoccupation with this debate illuminates how the subsequent generations of Gulsheniye der-vishes evaluated the early importance and formative power of Ibn ʿArabi in Gulsheni’s piety as it was inherited from Ruşeni.52 His discussion also allows Muhyi to contextualize his own trou-bles with Ottoman religious scholars as he was coming of age in a different time and place, but still preoccupied with the esoteric dimensions of Ibn ʿArabi’s writings and defending the Gulsheniye from accusations of heresy, blasphemy, and bidʿa (innovation). According to hagiographical evidence, the dan-gerous and heretical designation of Fuṣūṣī attached solely to the members of the Gulsheniye, some of whom suffered accu-sations, persecution, and corporal punishment because they promoted and defended supposedly heretical and controver-sial ideas attributed, at times, to Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings. While exactly what constituted heresy, blasphemy, and innovation remained blurred in the 16th-century Ottoman context, crit-ics nevertheless saw Shaykh İbrahimiler as wayward and hereti-cal mystics who had strayed from the path of Sunna and the Quran.53 Muhyi relates several episodes in which Gulsheni was actively accused of pantheism in Ottoman-ruled Egypt during the tenure of ex-Mamluk Hayr Bey – the region’s first governor after the 1517 conquest:

[The Arab judges] went to Hayr Bey and persevered with the beys [saying] that we have witnesses [who can testify] that he [Gulsheni] said that being is one and whatever the universe has, I [Gulsheni] embody it. Surely he has to be executed.54

52. Muhyi, pp. 180–1. 53. Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 55–6, especially n. 79. 54. Muhyi, p. 369: ‘Hayır Beye varub ve beyler ile ikdām ider ki bizim

şāhīdlerimiz vardır ki vücūd vāhīddir ve her ne ‘alemde varsa bende mevcūddur dimişdir, elbette ḳatl olmak gerekdir deyu ikdām iderler.’

90 Side Emre

As I noted earlier, it was because of characterizations such as these, and many others we can trace in other sources, as well as the discomfort provoked among Ottoman ruling elite circles in Istanbul by Gulsheni’s immense popularity with the local military in Egypt, that Gulsheniye literary production and dervishes, beginning with Gulsheni himself in c.1528, were all investigated and interrogated by well-known members of the Ottoman ʿulemā.

Waḥdat al-Wujūd And Waḥdat al-Shuhūd In THE Sīmurgh POEM, THE maʿnevī, AND OTHER

POETRy COllECTIONS

Having explored the controversies surrounding the Fuṣūṣīs, I will now examine how the Gulsheniye literature adapted the anchor concepts of waḥdat al-wujūd and waḥdat al-shuhūd in the Sīmurgh poem. This anonymous Sīmurgh poem precedes the maʿnevī’s Arabic prose prologue and has not been stud-ied before. The poem’s interpretation of these two concepts lays out Gulsheni’s motives for writing a work of such mag-nitude, shedding light on how he incorporated the teachings of Ibn ʿArabi into his verses, and communicating Gulsheni’s special function and superior position in the hierarchy of the friends of God (Ar. wilāya, sainthood) and ʿilm al-ladun (divine know ledge).

With etymological origins in the Avesta (the ancient scrip-tures of Zoroastrianism), the mythical bird Sīmurgh frequently surfaces in Islamic literature. In Firdawsi’s Shāh-nāma, it appears as the protector of Zal and of his son Rustam, and Arabic nar-ratives of pre-Islamic Persia use the Sīmurgh and the ʿanqāʾ interchangeably and similarly. Stated very simply, the allegory of ʿAttar’s manṭiq al-ṭayr describes the quest of thirty birds (Pers. sī murg-, the wayfarers, Sufi aspirants) for their king, al-ʿanqāʾ or Sīmurgh, God. ʿAttar’s famous Persian narrative poem immerses the reader in an epic quest for Sīmurgh, which is the endless search for the creator; the birds realize that the moment they reach their destination they will become of one essence of God


and suffer annihilation (fanāʾ).55 The Sīmurgh poem introduces the reader to Gulsheni’s oft-repeated themes: caution against ahl al-taqlīd (imitators) and trust towards ahl al-taḥqīq and an assertion of the indivisible unity of God, tawḥīd. 56

The term ahl al-taḥqīq in Sufi jargon refers to, among other interpretations, those who live the direct experience of God.57 In a recent study that contextualizes the meaning of the term al-taḥqīq over time, Eric Geoffroy notes that Islamic philoso-phers like the Brethren of Purity, Avicenna, and Ibn Tufayl ref-erenced it in connection with the wisdom of human beings.58 Emphasizing that the term did not surface in the parsimonious discourse of the early Sufi literature, he notes that al-Junayd’s reference to al-taḥqīq was a precursor to the term’s later usage by Ibn ʿArabi. Defining al-taḥqīq as ‘realization of the real,’ he contrasts taḥqīq with taqlīd and establishes the term’s connec-tion to wujūd.59 He says that al-taḥqīq means ‘“to realize the Real” (taḥqīq al-ḥaqq) in oneself’ and that it leads a priori ‘“to realize the Real” at each moment.’60 Additional scholarship also discussed the usage and scope of the term in the writings of Sharaf al-Din ʿAli yazdi (d.1454), the Timurid historian and intellectual, and within the context of the 15th-century Timurid

55. See C. Pellat, ‘ʿAnḳāʾ,’ and F.C. de Blois, ‘Sīmurgh’ in EI2. Also see Alexander Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short History (Leiden: Brill, 2012), p. 154 (Knysh, Islamic Mysticism). The use of Sīmurgh/ʿAnqāʾ was a com-mon feature in Ottoman mystical literature and especially among the Sufis who were Akbarians. I would like to thank Stephen Hirtenstein for the comment. See Stephen Hirtenstein, ‘Malatyan Soil, Akbarian Fruit: From Ibn ʿArabi to Niyazi Misri,’ JMIAS, 51 (2012): 111, 115. He emphasizes that the ʿAnqāʾ is a classic Akbarian theme (ibid. 115–16).56. Ahl-i taqlīd: imitators or those who follow Islamic dogma exclu-

sively by way of adhering to or imitating the established authorities; ahl-i taḥqīq: enlightened ones who could verify their beliefs not only through reason and established dogma but also through spiritual insight. 57. N. Calder, ‘Taḳlīd’ in EI2. 58. Eric Geoffroy, ‘Spiritual Realization (al-taḥqīq) through daily awak-

ening,’ JMIAS, 53 (2013): 37–47. 59. Ibid. 40, 41. 60. Ibid. 46.

92 Side Emre

intellectual history.61 According to İlker Evrim Binbaş, yazdi refrains from suggesting that the ahl al-taḥqīq was a distinctive social or intellectual group, but instead says that they were the ones who believed in the unity of opposites and that ‘the finest perfection of any quality depends on its being able to embrace its opposite.’62 In addition to that, they were the ones who believed in the influence of celestial bodies and the status of the Quranic muqaṭṭaʿāt (disconnected letters found at the beginning of twenty-nine sūras of the Quran) as a way of disentangling the secrets of being in this world.63 Finally, Binbaş (in close con-nection with Melvin-koushki’s recent analysis)64 says that the occult philosopher of early Timurid Iran Saʾin al-Din Turka Isfahani (1369–1432), the leader of a circle of thinkers based in Isfahan and yazd, refers to the ahl al-taḥqīq in a hierarchy of intellectual groups he formulated: ‘The muḥaqqiqān (or the ahl-i taḥqīq), the abrār, and the akhyār. These three groups are mainly defined by the three eminent Sufis (mutaṣawwifān) that they fol-low, Ibn ʿArabi (d.638/1240), Najm al-Din kubra (d.618/1221), and Shihab al-Din Suhravardi (d.587/1191) respectively.’ Binbaş explains that these groups depicted three hierarchical levels of human perfection (kamāl-i insānī) with the ahl al-taḥqīq – refer-ring to followers of Ibn ʿArabi – representing the highest level of human perfection. This hierarchy also exhibited the level of their ability to understand the hidden (bāṭin) aspects of religion. According to Binbaş, Turka says that the hidden aspects were included in the signs of Islamic law, but only the ahl al-taḥqīq had the ability to grasp them.65

While there is almost a century separating the worlds of

61. İlker Evrim Binbaş, ‘Sharaf al-Dīn ʿ Alī Yazdī, c.770s–858 / c.1370s–1454: Prophecy, Politics, and Historiography in the Late Medieval Islamic History,’ PhD diss., University of Chicago (2009), 92–5 (Binbaş). 62. Ibid. 94. 63. Binbaş, 95. 64. Matthew S. Melvin-Koushki, ‘The Quest for a Universal Science: The

Occult Philosophy of Saʾin al-Din Turka Isfahani (1369–1432) and Intellec-tual Millenarianism in Early Timurid Iran,’ PhD diss., Yale University (2012) (Melvin-Koushki).65. Binbaş, 131–2.


Ibn Turka and yazdi in medieval Timurid Iran and the Cairene Halveti–Gulshenis in the 16th century – with their Persian Aqquyunlu origins – I think that the Gulshenis knew of their works and, in particular, their synthesis of Ibn ʿArabi’s theoreti-cal mysticism in their particular areas of focus. As such, I do not think that the usage of the term ahl al-taḥqīq was coincidental in the Sīmurgh poem. Ibn ʿArabi’s mystical concepts and teach-ings, including those discussed in this study, and those system-atized by his disciples and later members of the Akbarian school of thought (such as unity of being, sainthood, prophethood, the perfect man etc.), all of which constitute binding and ele-mental links between the prolific intellectual output we observe in the medieval Islamicate Persian and Arabic literary and mys-tical heritage, as exemplified by Ibn Turka and yazdi, and the ongoing quest for a unified mystical language that incorporates and adapts earlier teachings and trends by dervish authors of early modern Sufi orders such as the Halveti–Gulshenis.

The Sīmurgh poem is a good example of this suggestion. Here the Sīmurgh and the ʿanqāʾ appear concurrently and, in a sense, as mirror images of one another. The poem begins as an emphatic response to those who doubt the mission of the İbrahimis (the followers of Shaykh İbrahim) as wayfarers striving to unite with the divine in the consuming circular journey of death and birth.66 The poet underlines the possibility of a dual-ity in the wayfarer’s heart by referring to both the Sīmurgh and the ʿanqāʾ as lure and snare, while also depicting the wayfarer’s quest in life as the infinite and consistent struggle of the self to reach the blissful love of the divine. To succeed in the quest, the

66. The theme of cautioning and advising the novice about those who refuse to hear the news (also referred to as the deniers) is repeated in other verse literature as well. See Dīvān, F3866, fol. 499v, line 1: ‘My son, the ear of the donkey is indeed long, but it cannot hear this news. With an open ear, hear the flowing of understanding.’ The didactic aspect also comes out in other verses of the Persian Dīvān, which give the disciple precise instructions as to how he should think, feel, and behave. The proper edu-cation of the novice formed a central theme in the Gulsheniye corpus, and nearly all of Gulsheni’s extant works contain references to the guidance and education of the young Sufi aspirant. See Dīvān, F3866, fols. 499v–504r.

94 Side Emre

wayfarer must pursue his goal with single-hearted fervor. Explor-ing the moment of the unveiling (Ar. kashf), the poet empha-sizes how illumination emerges from nothingness – paralleling the yazdian interpretation of ‘belief in the unity of opposites’:

Come hear the news from us who experienced God’s truthDo not be parted from the truth because of suspicionThose who are the enemies of our practiceEven if they are of the flock of Muhammad, are still hereticsIn my heart’s Qāf67 nests the ʿAnqāʾOne like Sīmurgh sits in the nest of ʿAnqāʾIf it was Qāf or my heart I do not knowAn ʿAnqāʾ-like one shows me a strange dreamIn my heart’s Qāf whoever holds swayThat becomes Sīmurgh in the eyes of the way,

divine wisdomIn its depth, my soul is as the ʿAnqāʾ,For you have made it a veiled secretMy heart is as mighty as the QāfBecause you have made it like the ʿAnqāʾSīmurgh left the nest, hiding from wisdom’s eyeAnd yet the ʿAnqāʾ is my very own being for it is IIt showed itself from the Qāf of nothingness( … )My illumination emerged from nothingnessIf you wish to know what the ʿAnqāʾ islike the mighty Sīmurgh, sitting atop QāfSeek all three parts of the divine secrets, the wisdom from

the heartAs the nest does not hold two of the beloved oneslikewise that ʿAnqāʾ did not nest upon the QāfThe method of her nesting is yet hiddenSīmurgh pursues her preyShe is the lure and the snareThat ʿAnqāʾ, her very name, is the lureyet the Sīmurgh by her is the snare

67. As the mountain range surrounding the terrestrial world, Qāf is known as the solitary abode of the Sīmurgh (ʿAnqāʾ). In poetry, Qāf also may mean ‘mountain of wisdom’ or ‘mountain of contentment’.


Sīmurgh pursues herself like othersAs the lucky hunter who hunts othersSīmurgh also pursues herself.68

While the Sīmurgh poem, through a cross-textual interplay in ʿAttar’s allegory as read in manṭiq al-ṭayr, represents the eter-nity of the one creator, the indivisibility and the unity of the opposites, adaptations of tawḥīd and wujūd, the echoes of Ibn ʿArabi come to the fore in the Arabic prologue to the maʿnevī as well. Here Gulsheni refers to Ruşeni as the saint of God who had reached ultimate communion with the eternal.69 Since Gul-sheni inherited Ruşeni’s spiritual legacy, Gulsheni’s introverted musings on his own personal spiritual experiences and the par-ticular emotions he felt during the various stages of his journey towards divinity concentrate on the oneness and unity of God, as well as the circularity of all existence.70 Gulsheni portrays the simultaneous birth and death of all creation as reflections of the infinity and unity of God’s existence:

All creation is to be annihilated like me, your loving servant,

The beloved slave knew instantly that all existence belongs to the everlasting being.

[The everlasting being] Became the part and the whole without changing into the part and the whole,

[The everlasting being] knew about the unification, without separating, from the whole.71

68. The Maʿnevī, İstanbul Süleymaniye Library, Halet Efendi 272. The poem precedes the prologue. All of the translations from Ottoman Turkish, Persian, and Arabic are mine.

69. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 1v, lines 17–25. The prologue, like the Sīmurgh poem, was only included in the Halet Efendi manuscript. 70. The examples are numerous: see Dīvān, TY890 fol. 131v, fol. 141r,

fol. 186b, fol. 213v; Dīvān, AE379, fol. 22v, fol. 33r, fol. 73r, fol. 75r, fol. 52r. 71. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 381v, verse 28:

Kullu sheyin ḥālik [un] ān bende-i vadūdDāned āndem chebūved ez-bāḳi vujūd Juz u kull bī juz u kull gerdīde ū Vaṣl-i khod bī faṣl ez kull dide ū

96 Side Emre

At the beginning of the maʿnevī, Gulsheni stresses that ordi-nary human beings cannot perceive the hidden layers of mean-ing of God’s will, wisdom, and knowledge, thus reinforcing both the exclusive nature of knowledge and the necessity that the wise should be privy to it. Gulsheni emphasizes his excel-lent pedigree, his spiritual descent from Ruşeni, and his contin-uation of the saint’s legacy through his own involvement with complex mystical concepts. Relying heavily on abstractions and metaphors in his other poetry collections, Gulsheni reveals the supreme oneness and perfection of God, and focuses on the circularity in all creation in his Persian dīvān collection. God possesses the part (Ar. juzʾ) and the whole (Ar. kull), as well as what is apparent to the eye (Ar. ẓāhir) and what remains hidden (Ar. bāṭin): ‘The part and the whole, from the apparent and the hidden, are complete; with the absoluteness of His bonding, so are His signs [complete].’72 The interplay between the exoteric and esoteric perspectives of divine love also occurs as a sub-text throughout Gulsheni’s poetry.73 In another verse, he says that the manifestations of the part and the whole both emanate from the one God – as the creator, God gives meaning to the whole of creation.74

As seen in one of the longer poems attributed to the order,75 wujūd is depicted as one essence comprised of many stations (Ar. maqāmāt) – an interpretation rooted in Ibn ʿ Arabi’s thinking and cosmology.76 In the opening verses of one of his Anatolian

72. Dīvān, F3866, fol. 498r, lines 10, 11, 14. 73. See the ‘Ġazeliyāt–Mesnevī’ section, HE272: fol. 388r, line 8, and

fol. 388v, lines 9–16, in addition to the der-kenār pieces. 74. Dīvān, F3866, fol. 498r, line 13. 75. Anon., Çobannāme, İstanbul Süleymaniye Library, Uşşaki Tekkesi

26, fol. 133r, line 13, fol. 133v, lines 1–3. 76. Uludağ, pp. 570–2. For an analysis and commentary of different sta-

tions of vücūd in Ibn ʿArabi, see Ahmed Avni Konuk, Fusûsu’l-Hikem Tercüme ve Şerhi; hazırlayanlar, Mustafa Tahralı, Selçuk Eraydın, v. 1 (İstanbul: Mar-mara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Yayıları, 1999), pp. 4–8, 43–7 (Konuk): ‘Vücud’un lisanımızdaki mukabili ‘varlık’ ve lisan-ı Fariside ‘heşti’dir. Mana-yı lugavisi ‘matlubu bulmak’dır.’ For an analysis of la-taʿayyün, mertebe-i vah-det, and mertebe-i ahadiyyet, see ibid. pp. 10–13. Also see Chittick, Ibn


Turkish dīvān collections, Gulsheni focuses on the first station of wujūd, the initial taʿayyun level, waḥdat, eventually passing on to how God’s existence as a secret treasure, the divine mys-tery, became manifest at the moment of unification, the way-farer’s self-annihilation, as we have witnessed in the Sīmurgh poem earlier on:

The eye of permanence (ʿayne’l-bekā) is being manifested from love,

Those who see the source of your veil of concealmentmerge with non-manifestation (lā-taʿayyun).77

… . From the language of omniscience, He said, ‘Be!’making apparent the divine mystery,With one order, in six directions, creating the lands and

the sky.78

… . loving your secret treasure (genj-i maḥfī) with the absolute

unifying love of the creator,It is you showing, in one instance, without a veil, unity

(waḥdat) with yourself.… .

ʿArabi, pp. 36–44 for a detailed analysis of wujūd. I refer to Konuk’s 4-vol. translation and commentary of the Fuṣūṣ, and Chittick, ‘Ibn ʿArabi’s Own Summary of the Fuṣūṣ: The Imprint of the Bezels of Wisdom’ in Sophia Perennis: The Bulletin of the Imperial Iranian Academy of Philosophy 1, no. 2 (1976) (Chittick, ‘Fuṣuṣ’ 2). NB: this translation first appeared in Sophia Perennis (Tehran), vol. 1, no. 2 (Autumn 1975) and vol. 2, no. 1 (Spring 1976); it was reprinted in the JMIAS, 1 (1982). It may not be reproduced without the permission of the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society. 77. Uludağ, pp. 505–6. I thank my anonymous reader for the helpful

comment and correction on lā-taʿayyun: ‘La taʿayyun means non-manifes-tation, i.e. the state of the ghayb prior to any kind of thought of manifest-ing (about which one can say nothing apart from the fact that it must be like this); then there is al-taʿayyun al-awwal, in which He reveals Himself to Himself (self-vision); and then al-taʿayyun al-thani, in which His possi-bilities of manifestation demand expression (vision as other). The ahadiyya refers to la taʿayyun, wahidiyya to al-taʿayyun al-awwal, which are actually two sides of the same coin.’ 78. See Chittick, ‘Fuṣūṣ’ 1, 121.

98 Side Emre

Admiring the divine wisdom (ʿakl-i kul) not knowing the essence of being (kuhn-i wujūd),

The soul of all creation (nefs-i kül) does not know why He bestows characteristics to the essence.79

… . The part (cuz) and the whole (kul) do not exist according to

youyou, the one essence of pureness,yet without you, the part and the whole are naughtperpetual with nothing but merging with the divine (wujūd).80

Wilāyat And ʿilm al-ladun: ON THE PATH TO AkBARIAN HuMAN PERFECTION IN THE maʿnevī

In this final section, I want to focus on two Akbarian themes in the maʿnevī: sainthood and God-given divine knowledge. While the verses examined in the Persian and Turkish dīvān collections celebrated waḥdat al-wujūd, the maʿnevī proposed Gulsheni as the walī of God and the inheritor of Ruşeni’s saintly legacy in Egypt.81 This introduction of Gulsheni’s sainthood in the maʿnevī seldom recurs in the Gulsheniye corpus I have examined so far,82 and it is a theme that reveals Ibn ʿArabi’s influence on the selected corpus of Gulsheni.83 The maʿnevī’s

79. Uludağ, pp. 405–6. 80. İstanbul Millet Library, Ali Emiri Collection no. 379 (77 fols.) (Dīvān,

AE379). Dīvān, AE379, fols. 1v, 2r. 81. All of the references in the paragraphs which follow are from the

prologue referenced as: Maʿnevī HE272, prologue. Since this section lacks pagination, I numbered the folios as follows: Maʿnevī HE272, prologue, and fols. 1r–3r. 82. Gulsheniye literary production is extensive. Given the scope of this

article, I excluded analysis of some of Gulsheni’s works such as Kenzü’l- Cevāhir, Pendnāme, and Çobannāme. 83. I am aware of the limitations of translating vilāyet as sainthood –

especially when Ibn ʿArabi’s conceptualization of velī as friend of God is considered. Instead I adapt Melvin-Koushki’s interpretation of ‘sanctified power’ to wilāyat/walāyat and add sainthood, rulership, or friendship with God depending on the context of the term and its usage within the Gulsh-eniye corpus (Melvin-Koushki, 31–2).


prologue and parts of its main text explicate wilāyat and ʿilm al-ladun side-by-side and shed light on the specific messages Gulsheni intended for his audiences.

Throughout the prologue, Gulsheni repeatedly asserts Ruşeni’s role in forming his own knowledge and piety. Much like the eternal illumination of the sun, the light of initiation was first diffused by the influence of Ruşeni, and to such a degree that his fame spread to the Arabs and the Persians. Ruşeni also won the love of the Turks and the Daylamis, all of whom rushed to join his order and serve him. Ruşeni, with the most beautiful words, invited God into the hearts of his disciples, and being near him, they achieved a superior morality. Gulsheni praises the perfect qualities of Ruşeni as a human being, saying that his pīr had been the walī of God. After Ruşeni’s death, Gulsheni received an inheritance as Ruşeni’s sole deputy and successor: he had become the saint of God.

In the very first sentences of the prologue, Gulsheni empha-sizes his position as the learned one by explaining how God has blessed him with knowledge (Ar. ʿilm; in this context the spontaneous knowledge of God) without his first suspecting it – just as it had been communicated to the prophets. He says that God has inspired him with the wisdom of the unseen (Ar. ḥikmat) just as God had given revelations to the prophets. While he believes in what cannot be perceived by the naked eye (Ar. ghayb), such as the hidden meanings in certain chapters of the Quran, God has now unveiled these meanings for him, granting him ʿilm as a sacred heritage so that he might reveal their truths.84

84. The references are numerous. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 378r, line 5: ‘The explanation of “If the sea had been ink to reveal the words of my Lord’” (Q.18:109) (‘Der beyān-ı qull lau kana al-baḥri midādan al-kalimān rabbi’llāhī’) (I thank Stephen Hirtenstein for the reference); and fol. 378v, line 30: regarding the Quranic verse ‘My path is the straight one, follow it!’ (Q.6:153) (‘Der beyān wa anna hādā ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīman fe attabiuʿhu al-ayāt’); fol. 377r, line 5: ‘Regarding the prophetic tradition: “Prophets are, in relation to their communities, just like a nourishing stream of spiri-tuality.”’ (‘Der beyān-ı anki anbiyā āb-i Maʿnevīyest nisbat be ummat ḫod’) – here ‘stream’ equates the importance of the Maʿnevī as a spiritual text

100 Side Emre

This specific knowledge of the sacred and the hidden is called ʿilm al-ladun – one of the central concepts in Gulsheni’s Sufi teachings. In the Arabic dīwān Gulsheni says that ʿilm al-ladun, like the revelation heard in its full extent, was the source of wisdom.85 In the prologue to the maʿnevī, Gulsheni similarly states that ʿilm al-ladun was the knowledge of the hid-den treasure and the secret behind God’s truth and indication (Ar. maʿnā)86 in the world of beings. It comprises the knowl-edge of witnessing (Ar. ʿilm al-shuhūd) and seeing in the world of the unseen and the hidden (Ar. ghayb).87 The possessor of ʿilm al-ladun has acquired the core knowledge inherently pres-ent in God. Gulsheni then compares this type of knowledge to the luminance of the sun and the stars. Only one who has experienced annihilation in the divine (fanāʾ fi’llāh) can claim this knowledge. The holder of ʿilm al-ladun can also be called a saint of God, walī: ‘ʿilm al-ladun cannot be known without the prophets and the saints.’88 According to Gulsheni, God

with that of life-giving water; the work is thus nourishment to its readers, and a similar relationship between prophet and community is sketched. For a parallel analysis of Ibn ʿArabi’s mission to interpret the Quran, see Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, pp. 124–6.85. Only one copy of Gulsheni’s Arabic Dīwān is known. I found this

manuscript in Ankara Üniversitesi Dil Tarih ve Coğrafya Fakültesi Manu-script Library. It was given a new registration number (no. 57546) (Dīvān, AUL57546). The quotation is from Dīvān, AUL57546, fol. 4.86. Maʿnā in Arabic has numerous meanings: it may mean the thing

intended or proposed to oneself; an object, an indication, a signification, a meaning of a word; or an expression, dream; or vision, an abstraction, truth, reality. Here I translate it as truth and indication, and not as mystical knowing. 87. Maʿnevī HE272, prologue, fol. 2v. See Chittick, ‘Fuṣūṣ’ 1, 124. 88. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 19v, line 30: (‘Manbaʿ-i ʿilm-i ladun kanz-i

vujūd; Juz nabī u juz valī hargiz nabūd; Kon bayān ez-men ladun sirrat numā; Avval ākhir ey valīyullāh bamā’). Manbaʿ-i ʿilm-i ladun kenz-i vujūd = the source of divine knowledge, the treasure of being /Juz nabī u juz valī hargiz nabūd = [was apparent] partially in prophets and partially in saints, never non-existent / Kon bayān ez-men ladun sirrat numā = mani-fest from me divinely inspired knowledge, reveal your secret / Avval ākhir ey valīyullāh bamā = to us, from the beginning to the end, o saint of God.


confirms the prophets as conveyors of His will and proof of the existence of the divine:

God showed His illuminated face to the prophets, so that their invitations would be like God’s invitation

In this way, His light is manifested like the sunThe word disappears when maʿnā is explained,Those who are invited to explore the meaning of maʿnā,

should listen to my advice … The hidden (ghayb) is being revealed to me like it had been

to the prophetsAs I learned a few things from the unseen, like prophets, I

witnessed the unseen.89

Islamic mystical tradition commonly accepts a walī as a Mus-lim saint who acts as God’s deputy, representative, or vicegerent, and who also has the authority to guard and protect people. In Ibn ʿArabi’s formulation, however, the functions of the awli-yāʾ vis-à-vis the prophets and apostles, who also act as God’s messengers and representatives, involves a great deal of nuance and complexity.90 Determining the proper hierarchy of saints, prophets and apostles posed a complex task, undertaken and repeatedly elaborated by Ibn ʿArabi and his contemporaneous and modern-day commentators and interpreters.91 The hierar-chy that determines the degrees among men, and the status of

89. Ibid. fol. 373r. Chittick, ‘Fuṣuṣ’ 1, 105: Ibn ʿArabi in ‘The Quintes-sence of the Wisdom of in- and ex-spiration in the Logos of Seth’ explains the first of the ontological levels taʿayyun – a determination that encom-passes all determinations as well as the comprehensive unity (aḥadiyyat al-jamʿ). 90. Vincent J. Cornell, Realm of the Saint: Power and Authority in Moroc-

can Sufism (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998), pp. xvii–xxi. 91. The secondary literature is extensive on this particular issue; see for

instance Toshihiko Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1983), pp. 263–74 (Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism); Chodkiewicz, Seal, pp. 54–5; Claude Addas, Quest for the Red Sulphur: The Life of Ibn ʿArabi (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1993), pp. 76–81. Chodkiewicz refers to ten chapters in Ibn ʿ Arabi’s Futūḥāt that deal with this complex hierarchy; see Chodkiewicz, Seal, pp. 55–9.

102 Side Emre

one man on the individual level, constitutes one of the key con-cepts in Ibn ʿArabi’s philosophy. According to Izutsu, Ibn ʿArabi says that a saint holds the superior rank. A saint is an expert in and knower of (Ar. ʿārif) God’s truth, and is the Perfect Man (Ar. al-insān al-kāmil). As such, he is the viceregent of God on earth.

The Perfect Man in turn embodies saint, prophet, and mes-senger all in one person, and is the manifestation of Prophet Muhammad’s reality in the world, the axis of all poles (Ar. quṭb al-aqṭāb), and the leading saint of all saints in his time in the world.92 In the maʿnevī’s prologue, Gulsheni initially attributes these qualities to his pīr: he portrays Ruşeni as the shaykh al-mashāyikh (the shaykh of all shaykhs), the vicegerent (Ar. khalīfa) of God, the true imām (leader, prophet, successor to Prophet Muhammad, also a lieutenant of which there are two at any given time; a leader and pole of mystical saints of God on earth), the protector of people, and the saint of God. Gulsheni uses Ibn ʿArabi’s system of ranking to exalt Ruşeni as a saint, meaning that he holds one of the superior places in the celestial hierarchy. Gulsheni then ranks himself, by virtue of his role as Ruşeni’s successor, as a saint of God. In the section of the maʿnevī titled ‘Regarding the unison of the prophets and saints of God in one color,’ Gulsheni’s own views on the hierarchy of saints and prophets echo Ibn ʿArabi’s exposition:

Prophets and saints are the part and the whole, [apart from] the messengers

From one image and one attribute, they are the part and the whole.

Without an attribute, they [prophets and messengers] are from the same saint,

In this manner, the language of maʿrifat was completed.From the very beginning prophets and saints had been

[made of] the one same unique substance,And from that appears unity.93

92. For an analysis of the Perfect Man, refer to William C. Chittick, Ima-ginal Worlds: Ibn al-ʿArabi and the Problem of Religious Diversity (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), pp. 31–5.

93. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 376r, lines 14–15: line 14: ‘Der beyān-i ittiḥād-i


Emphasizing the veracity of the prophet’s words on the one-ness of the community of believers, Gulsheni asks how some-one who habitually practiced ignorance and stupidity could perceive the unity of the maʿnevī.94 In fact, the state of the spiritual (maʿneviyya) is the second dwelling (Ar. manāzil) of saints, according to Ibn ʿArabi’s response to Tirmidhī. These spiritual dwellings are linked to four types of knowledge. The first is ʿilm al-ladun; the second is ʿilm al-nūr, the knowledge of light; the third is ʿilm al-jamʿ wa’l-tafriqa, the knowledge of union and separation; the fourth is ʿilm al-kitāba al-ilāhiyya, the know ledge of the divine scripture. Chodkiewicz mentions ʿilm al-ladunī with reference to the Quran, and says that this type of knowledge of the divine is attributed to khiḍr.95 In the context of the Gulsheniye, khiḍr occupies an important place as well. He had initiated Ruşeni, Gulsheni’s spiritual master, in the city of Aydın in Anatolia, telling him to go and seek yahya Shirwani, the founder of the Halvetiye order in Persia and Azerbaijan. The entire episode is narrated at length in two hagiographical sources, providing us with an intriguing story of Halveti initia-tion. Ruşeni saw khiḍr shortly after his arduous forty-day retreat (Ar. arbaʿīn), during which he continuously repeated the word ‘khiḍr’ following a specific dhikr pattern.96 Ruşeni’s encoun-ter with khiḍr depicts a seamless transition from the ecstatic love he felt for a male student, khiḍr Balī, as their relationship created a scandal in town. When Ruşeni met with khiḍr, the latter informed him that finally Ruşeni’s metaphoric love for khiḍr Balī, his beloved student, had transformed itself to love of the divine. According to the hagiographical evidence, Ruşeni accepted khiḍr’s guidance to seek yahya Şirvani and received his baraka (blessing, divine gift) from him without question.97

anbīyāʾ va avlīyāʾ der yek rengī: Anbīyāʾ va avlīyāʾ juz kull-i rasul; Chūn yekend va yek ṣifat ez juz u kull’; line 15: ‘Yek bodend ez yek valī bī yek ṣifat; Ki ez an shod kullī lisān-i maʿrifet; Avval ākhir-i anbīyāʾ va avlīyā; Hemchu nafsī-yi vāḥid ez vāḥdat numā.’ 94. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 376r, line 20. 95. Chodkiewicz, Seal, p. 53. 96. For Halveti remembrance practices, see Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 44–5. 97. Yahya Şirvani of Bakü, who was Ruşeni’s master, was regarded as

104 Side Emre

This blessing consisted of khiḍr’s spitting into Ruşeni’s mouth, thereby giving him kashf (unveiling of divine knowledge) and karāmat (miracle worked through an agency of a saint, sanctity) opening the eye of his heart.98 While I did not locate any direct references to khiḍr in the select sections of the maʿnevī, in his Turkish dīwān collections Gulsheni evokes khiḍr specifically through references to several sūras and a Hadith that alludes to the Moses story.99

Ibn ʿArabi’s commentators examine the role of khiḍr in the spiritual guidance of Moses. In his interpretation and com-mentary of Ibn ʿArabi’s Fuṣūṣ, Ḳūnawī says that the meeting of Moses and khiḍr benefited the prophet, since it was during that dialogue that Moses learned that the ʿilm given to him was lim-ited in nature and that there was a hidden, more complex kind of knowledge of which he had been unaware. Ḳūnawī regards Moses as superior to most of the prophets.100

the pīr-i sānī (the second master) of the Halvetiye order. See Knysh, Islamic Mysticism, pp. 264–5; Curry, pp. 55–9. For a detailed vitae of Ruşeni, see Hacı Ali Efendi, Tuḥfetü’l- Mücahidīn ve Behcetü’l-Ẕakirīn, no.2293, İstanbul Nuruosmaniye Manuscript Library, fols. 584v–587v (Tuḥfet); for Ruşeni’s encounter with Khiḍr, see fols. 585v–585r. Hacı Ali relies on the infor-mation given by Cemaleddin Mahmut Hulvi, Lemezāt, Halet Efendi, no. 281, İstanbul Süleymaniye Manuscript Library, fols. 244–6 (Lemezāt). For a printed version of Hulvi, see Mehmet Serhan Tayşi, Lemezât-ı Hulviyye ez Lemezât-ı Ulviyye (Büyük Velilerin Tatlı Halleri) by Mahmud Cemaleddin el-Hulvī (İstanbul: Marmara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Yayınları, 1993). For the same story regarding Khiḍr, see Hulvi, p. 513. 98. Tuḥfet, fols. 585v–585r; see Curry, pp. 60–1 for an analysis of the

same episode. 99. Dīvān, TY890, fol. 219r and Dīvān, AE379, fol. 36r; see Q.7:143

with reference to ‘lan tarānī’; see Q.3:7 and Q.13:39 with reference to ‘Ümmü’l-kitāb’; see Al-Fātiḥa (Q.1) and Q.15:87 with reference to ‘sebʿan mine’l-mesānī’. Also note an allusion to the ʿAnqāʾ. 100. Ahmed Avni Konuk, Fusûsu’l-Hikem Tercüme ve Şerhi, Mustafa Tah-

ralı, Şelcuk Eraydın, v. 4, (İstanbul: Marmara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Yayıları, 1999), pp. 217–310. See also Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism, pp. 224–5. I am citing the most important section in Konuk’s extended Musa Fassı 2, Şerh, pp. 270–7. The translations are mine. Here Konuk interprets the central theme of the Moses narrative: ‘Let it be known that knowledge is of two kinds. The first one pertains to God; the other one, to people. The


Does the Perfect Man surface in Gulsheni’s poetry? I have not traced any direct references to an explicitly articulated Perfect Man. However, in a section titled ‘Regarding the secret on the light of God manifesting itself by way of fire to Moses,’ Gul-sheni gives his own interpretation of perfection with numer-ous references to the Prophet Abraham. According to Gulsheni, God’s manifestation takes place in the lighted likeness of fire.101 Therefore the seeker sees the fire of divine love in the form of one attribute where God’s appearance is luminous.102 While omitting Moses in this section, Gulsheni says that Abraham marks a higher symbol of human perfection. In seeking the wisdom locked in Abraham’s person, Gulsheni refers to him as the father of all prophets. Abraham represents a core con-nection, a deep and intimate unification with God, a rapturous and ecstatic love in which the lover, in the pureness and good-ness of his heart, fully merges with the beloved. As Gulsheni reveals, God’s manifestation affirmed Abraham’s identity, and Abraham’s identity confirmed God’s presence. Gulsheni then

knowledge that is related to God is called ʿilm-i baṭin, esoteric knowledge, which is also alternately called ʿilm-i ledüni. Those who know this type of knowledge are not appointed to deliver information or communicate to people. Rather they are obliged to hide and cover it. And this knowledge does not belong to the special virtues of prophethood and apostleship but to virtues of sainthood. The knowledge that is related to people is called ʿilm-i ẓahirī, the knowledge of the obvious, visible, and seen. It is also called the knowledge of the canonical Islamic laws and prophethood. This knowledge is particular to prophets and apostles, and they are responsible for communicating it to people. Now, prophets and apostles having two sides, the one which is visible to the naked eye is called prophethood, while their secret and hidden or esoteric side is called sainthood. When a revelation takes place, their exoteric and manifest side hides and protects their esoteric side. And because of this reason, the knowledge of the secret of happenstance, God’s decree on one’s fate and destiny, both of which are ʿilm-i ledüni, remain veiled.’ 101. This resonates closely with ‘The Wisdom of Eminence in the Word

of Moses’; see R.W.J. Austin, Ibn al-ʿArabi: The Bezels of Wisdom (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), pp. 250–66, especially p. 266.

102. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 8r, lines 14–15; fol. 8v, lines 1–10; fol. 9r, lines 1–24.

106 Side Emre

explains the station of Abraham, and more specifically how Abraham came to be known as the intimate friend of God (khalīl allāh) through his submission and surrender to God’s will.103 He says that the seeker who entirely abandons himself in the pres-ence of God reaches the station of Abraham. In the Gulsheniye mystical tradition, the symbolism of Abraham reflects not only God’s manifestation in the perfect person of Abraham, but also marks Abraham’s exceptional status as the first Muslim.104

In uncovering the path to achieving divine knowledge and prophetic inheritance, following the thought of Ibn ʿArabi, Gulsheni says that those who are privy to ʿilm al-ladun become, without any doubt, the inheritors of the wisdom residing in the prophets. The knowledge that one achieves with ʿilm al-ladun is the genuine knowledge of God. Only those who follow in the footsteps of the prophets acquire that special knowledge. And only those who have God as their instructor are called Gnos-tics, who achieve divine knowledge without intermediaries. In seeing himself as part of this heritage, which he reflects in his select poetry – especially in the maʿnevī – Gulsheni not only introduces his own sainthood but also praises his qualities as a gnostic, thus justifying his new and important socio-religious status in Egypt. In carving a specific niche for himself and his order as political power passed from the Mamluks to the Otto-mans, Gulsheni stood out among his Halveti peers. His pop-ularity among the Ottoman military was unmatched and at times caused friction with the ruling elite circles in Istanbul, as contemporaneous sources relate.105

CONCluSION

As this article has argued, in creating a distinctive culture for his order, Gulsheni was influenced by the Akbarian school of

103. Ibid. fol. 8v, lines 1–10. For a parallel understanding of Abraham, see Austin, Bezels, pp. 90–5; also see Chodkiewicz, Seal, pp. 129–30. 104. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 9r, line 1 and the section following it (lines

1–17). 105. Emre, ‘Gulsheni,’ 252–62.


thought, and in particular by concepts such as waḥdat al-wujūd, waḥdat al-shuhūd, wilāya, and ʿilm al-ladun. In some of the Gul-sheniye poetry examined here, this influence was direct. In other selections it remained complex and elusive, and requires an interpretive analysis. In the Gulsheniye literature, the theme of deniers conveys the most straightforward and repeated mes-sage for the Sufi aspirant, and emphasizes that if one is not an unbeliever (Ar. munkir), then one should recognize the hypo-crite (Ar. munāfiq). As those who deny the prophets and saints will become deaf and blind, the false and idle (Ar. bāṭil) ear, which is deaf to God’s invitation, is an enemy to the Prophet.106 Interestingly, the seekers of the knowledge of philosophy (Ar. ʿilm al-falsafa) also fall under a similar designation in Gulsheni’s verses.107 Deniers were ignorant people, whose scope of refuta-tion included God’s unity, divine knowledge and wisdom, the unison and sanctity of the prophets and saints, the quest for human perfection, God-given knowledge of the sacred and the hidden, and the wisdom of Gnostics – all themes that Ibn ʿ Arabi dealt with in depth.

The Akbarian intellectual and spiritual inspiration permeated the literature of the Halveti–Gulsheni order during Gulsheni’s lifetime and after his death, the fruits of which were revealed through myriad genres within the order’s literary output. As Muhyi detailed, initially this powerful inspiration surfaced with the defense of the Fuṣūṣ in Aqquyunlu Persia and eventually resulted in the order’s controversial reputation in the Ottoman realms following Gulsheni’s interrogation at Sultan Süleyman’s court with accusations directed against the maʿnevī and its hereti-cal content that linked the Gulshenis to the Akbarian school.

106. Maʿnevī HE272, fol. 9v, lines 31–47. The section is titled ‘Der beyān-i anki kāfir an ra māder Maʿnevī havīyest.’ There are numerous refer-ences to this theme in the dīvān collections as well. 107. The references are numerous. For example, see ibid., fol. 376r,

lines 24–5 and fol. 376v, lines 1–11; Dīvān, AE379, fols. 16r, 22v, 55r. The deniers and doubters are a recurrent theme in Rūmī’s poetry as well. See, as cited in William C. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge: Ibn al-ʿArabī’s Metaphysics of Imagination (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), pp. 111–13.

108 Side Emre

Parallel to kemal Paşazade’s efforts to mediate the Fuṣūṣī heritage (which, if left to interpretation by the ignorant had potential to threaten the state’s political status quo, sultanic legitimacy, and harm the functioning of the religious hier-archy), Gulsheni’s message in the maʿnevī resonates with a complementary urgency to reconcile the bāṭin with the ẓāhir through a genuine understanding and acceptance of veneration of saints.

I have laid out how the maʿnevī (alongside other works attributed to Gulsheni) carries the heavy imprint of Akbarian mysticism and theosophy exemplified with the four anchor concepts of waḥdat al-wujūd, waḥdat al-shuhūd, wilāyat, and ʿilm al-ladun. Muhyi’s consistent efforts to defend Ibn ʿArabi, and the Akbarian intellectual legacy as it surfaced in the order’s lit-erature and in the teachings of its dervishes, further demon-strate how deeply embedded Akbarian mystical theory was in the order’s corpus. Ibn ʿArabi’s teachings were a significant component that defined the Gulsheniye culture. unlike Muhyi, Gulsheni, as founder of the Cairene Halveti–Gulshenis, did not systematically rethink and produce creative commentaries on Akbarian concepts: we do not have Gulsheni’s commentary on the Fuṣūṣ, for instance. However, we do have ample evidence on how Gulsheni, as a popular representative of the Persian and Anatolian tekke literature, incorporated the cumulative know-ledge of the Akbarian school of thought in his mystical writings. In the maʿnevī, he interpreted hadith and select Quranic verses under Akbarian influence. Gulsheni, after all, was a charismatic Sufi master, belonging to the school of Ibn ʿArabi, and helped promote and popularize the Akbarian culture within his order’s particular brand in Egypt and the Ottoman realms – a legacy that future generations of dervishes, such as Muhyi, contin-ued to contribute to by explicating and defending Ibn ʿArabi’s inheritance at a time when Sufi rituals, practices, teachings, and literature were under scrutiny by members of the Ottoman reli-gious hierarchy.

On a final note, within the wider Ottoman–Akbarian con-text, I believe that Muhyi’s writings are important in order to understand where the Gulshenis stood with respect to Akbarian


teachings and culture. He was the only Gulsheni dervish who devoted a number of treatises to Ibn ʿArabi and his legacy in the 16th century.108 By his designation, Muhyi became a Fuṣūṣī at age sixteen, while attending the classes of Sinanüddin yusuf el-Hatib, known as Sinan Efendi (d.1574–75), in Adrianople. Engrossed by Ibn ʿArabi, Muhyi consulted the commentaries of Dāwūd b. Maḥmūd al-Qaysarī (d.1350) on Ibn ʿArabi’s thought as he continued borrowing the grand master’s books from the Ibrahim Pasha Mosque. During those years, Muhyi also penned Silsiletü’l-aşk, a short treatise that includes an interpretation of waḥdat al-wujūd.109 Perhaps one of the most intriguing stories depicting Muhyi’s early devotion to Ibn ʿArabi can be found in the Reşehât.

This story illustrates how Muhyi navigated criticism against Ibn ʿArabi as a teenager and how he framed the grand master’s legacy within the context of the Gulsheniye mystical culture for audiences in Istanbul and Egypt as a dervish many years later.110 The episode describes Muhyi’s first meeting with the famed military judge of Rumelia, Muhyi al-din Shaykh Muham-mad, known as koca Çivizade Efendi (d.1547) in 1545.

The imām at the Üçşerefeli Mosque, who happened to be koca Çivizade and who had the reputation of being hostile to Sufis and tasawwuf, approached Muhyi following afternoon prayers at the mosque, to inquire about two commentaries of Ibn ʿArabi sitting beside the boy on the platform. After discov-ering the content of the books and Muhyi’s eager interest in mysticism, Çivizade warned him against succumbing to such errors. unaware that he was talking to Çivizade himself, Muhyi responded boldly that his piety, supplication, soundness in judgment, fasting, and advancement on the path to reach God

108. See Muhyi’s Reşehât, İstanbul, Yapı Kredi, Sermet Çifter Research Library, Y265, fol. 1b (Muhyi, Reşehât). This statement may change with new discoveries of Gulsheni’s lost writings or writings of other Gulsheniye dervishes which have not yet surfaced.

109. Mecmuʾā-yi Muhyi, Cairo Dar al-Qutub, Bab al-Khalq, fols. 206b– 208b. 110. See Koç, Bâleybelen, pp. 10–12 and the Reşehât, fols. 244a–248a.

This story does not surface in Muhyi’s hagiography of Gulsheni.

110 Side Emre

improved whenever he read the grand master’s books. Çivizade declared that such occupations were fallacious and corrupted one’s soul; Muhyi ought to busy himself with books on jurisprudence, since all the great ʿulamā criticized Ibn ʿArabi. Acknowledging the criticism of the ʿ ulamā, Muhyi declared him-self baffled by the kazasker (chief judge of the army) Çivizade’s fatwā against Ibn ʿArabi and his followers. Muhyi added that surely Çivizade must have been learned in the ʿilm al-kalam, ḥikmat, and tasawwuf, and that with the fatwā, he in fact tried to protect the grand master from those in error regarding his teachings! The discussion veered to Ibn ʿArabi’s position as a mujtahid, and to the dream in which Ibn ʿ Arabi claimed Prophet Muhammad had told him to communicate the contents of the Fuṣūṣ to his fellow men. Muhyi said that Ibn ʿArabi had ful-filled that duty with the authority of a ‘friend of God’ who had heard the Prophet personally.111 Furious, Çivizade stressed that Ibn ʿArabi’s words amounted to extreme error, contrary to the Shariʿa.

The conversation ended with Muhyi questioning Çivizade’s line of argument and emphasizing kemal Paşazade’s favor-able prior fatwā on Ibn ʿArabi. After realizing that he had been talking to Çivizade all along, Muhyi left the mosque ashamed and frightened. He was summoned to meet with him the next day. When they met, Muhyi assured Çivizade that he would certainly follow the righteous path of Sunna. No further men-tion of the teachings of Ibn ʿArabi or Muhyi’s deep commit-ment to the grand master appears in their conversations.

While modern scholars researching medieval Islamic socio- religious history highlight the fluidity of concepts such as orthodoxy, heterodoxy, heresy, and unbelief,112 dervish authors like Muhyi grappled with difficult texts such as the Fuṣūṣ and

111. Muhyi is referring to how Muhammad and Ibn ʿArabi had been connected historically by the revelatio continuata through the Shiʿi imāms and phenomenologically by the mundo imaginalis (ʿālam al-mithāl), the world of spiritual being from which emanated the vision in which Ibn ʿArabi claimed to have received the Fuṣūṣ from the Prophet himself during his stay in Damascus in 1230.112. For an overview, see Terzioğlu, 357–64.


the teachings of Ibn ʿArabi through reasoning that assumed rel-atively less rigid boundaries between traditionalist views and more flexible understandings of the Quran, Sunna, and com-plex mystical concepts. Episodes such as Muhyi’s debate with Çivizade and his later reactions against Shaykh karamani’s exe-cution reveal how divided Ibn ʿArabi’s heritage had become in the collective memory of the learned and of the religious establishment in the Ottoman realms. As Muhyi’s analysis indi-cates, scholars, Sufis, and elites disagreed on the validity of the accusations against the Fuṣūṣ and its interpreters or teachers. Muhyi’s own engagement with this debate illuminates how the subsequent generations of Gulsheniye dervishes evaluated the importance of Ibn ʿArabi in Gulsheni’s piety.

Muhyi’s discussion also contextualizes his own troubles with scholars as he came of age in a different time and place – intrigued by the esoteric dimensions of Ibn ʿArabi’s writings and later defending the Gulsheniye shaykhs from accusations of heresy, blasphemy, and bidʿa. Exactly what constituted heresy, blasphemy, and innovation remained blurred in the 16th-cen-tury Ottoman context, yet some critics nevertheless saw Shaykh İbrahimiler as wayward and heretical mystics who had strayed from the path of Sunna and the Quran.113 Prolific and trilingual writings of dervish authors such as Muhyi, as members of diverse Sufi networks who tackled controversial mystical con-cepts, pave the way for a more nuanced understanding of their milieu and guide us to new insights on the developing cultural traditions and society of the early modern Ottoman Empire.

113. Emre, ‘Crafting Piety,’ 55–6, especially n. 79.

side emre - isamveri.orgisamveri.org/pdfdrg/g00366/2016/2014_emres.pdf · side emre scholars of...

Documents