Sufi literature on the hajj usually seeks to convey a symbolical interpretation of the pilgrimage to the Holy Land.1 Sufi-minded authors, who are inspired by the spirituality of the hajj and the secrets of its rituals, tend to consider the hajj as a metaphorical journey from diversity (kathra) toward unity (waḥda), reflecting the trajectory of the Sufi disciple towards inner purification. Still, for Sufis as for regular pilgrims, the hajj contains an ‘external’, physical component, too, directed at the strengthening and preservation of spiritual bonds and networks along the way.
In this chapter explores the understandings of the external and corporal dimensions of the hajj among Sufi ‘wayfarers’ in the early modern period and discuss their interaction with Sufi networks before and after completing the pilgrimage as part of their spiritual trajectory. Adopting a social perspective we analyse the interrelationships between Sufi and non-Sufi pilgrims during their journey toward the Holy Land and during their residence in the two Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina. We examine the assumption that the pilgrimage expands the pilgrim’s network and acts as a means to disseminate a Sufi worldview. The chapter is divided into three sections. The first section gives a brief overview of the early Sufis’ thoughts concerning the issue of pilgrimage in Islam based on a select number of primary sources; the second section deals with the pilgrimage and its social aspects. Since Sufi written heritage contains rich primary accounts and mystic authors’ opinions about socio-political circumstances, these can be used to ascertain what Sufi pilgrims faced during the hajj and how they responded. The third and final section narrows down the scope and offers a case study of two travel accounts. The first is a Persian travelogue entitled Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn (‘The road of the passionate lovers’), a sample piece of Sufi literature that narrates the pilgrimage in 1549 of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn, who was the founder of the Ḥusaynī ṭarīqa from a Hamadānī branch of the Kubrāwiyya order in the sixteenth century (Khwarazmī 2011); the second is Bulūgh al-marām bi-al-riḥla ilā Bayt Allāh al-ḥarām (‘Fulfilment of the desire for God’s sacred House’), an account in Arabic by ʿAbd al-Majīd al-Zabādī al-Murādī, a Moroccan Sufi, of his hajj in 1745 (al-Murādī n.d.).
1 The Hajj in Sufi Literature
Although Sufis recognize the Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina as the historical and spiritual centers of Islam, mystical approaches to pilgrimage reflect the dichotomy of spiritual understandings and religious/theological understandings of pilgrimage. From a mystical point of view, the observance of superficial aspects of the sharia only is rejected. In her work Mystical dimensions of Islam, Annemarie Schimmel (1975, 106) explains how in Sufi thought mystical training is the only way to obtain the hidden secret of the hajj and other rituals, such as prayer and fasting. The mystic’s duty is to perceive the inner dimension of the pilgrimage as a means to gain nearness to God or the divine Beloved. Thus, the main issue is the relationship between humanity and divinity.
This dichotomy between the spiritual and material aspects of the hajj can be found in scattered narrations and anecdotes in hagiographies such as Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār’s (d. 1220) Tadhkira al-awliyāʾ and ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī’s (d. 1492) Nafaḥāt al-uns. Other Sufi literature about prominent leading figures and Sufi masters are replete with attempts to demonstrate the personal influential and inner aspect of the hajj such as al-Hujwīrī’s (d. 1077) Kashf al-maḥjūb, the works of Rūzbihān Baqlī (d. 1209), Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī’s (d. 1273) Mathnawī, Ibn al-ʿArabī’s (d. 1240) al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, and Shāh Walīullāh’s (d. 1763) Fuyūḍ al-Ḥaramayn.2
In Kashf al-maḥjūb, considered the earliest Sufi treatise in Islamic tradition, ‘superficial’, physical, aspects of the pilgrimage are perceived as a means to understand its deeper and inner meanings. Its author, al-Hujwīrī, expresses eleven veils between man and God in each chapter of his work and he deals with solutions to remove the obstacles he discusses. In his chapter on the hajj, he explains that whoever seeks the truth will find its signs in each step towards Mecca, since the pilgrim’s aim is to obtain contemplation of God (mushāhada). The pilgrimage is:
an act of mortification (mujāhada) for the sake of obtaining contemplation (mushāhada), and mortification does not become the direct cause of contemplation, but is only a means to it. Therefore, inasmuch as a means has no further effect on the reality of things, the true object of pilgrimage is not to visit the Kabah, but to obtain contemplation of God.
al-Hujwīrī 2001, 429
With this in mind, the hajj is divided into the ḥajj al-ghayba (the ‘absent’ or ‘hidden’ pilgrimage) and the ḥajj al-ḥuḍūr (the ‘present’ or ‘visible’ pilgrimage). Regarding the first one, al-Hujwīrī states that whoever passes the stages of pilgrimage and is physically in Mecca but does not see God, is the similar to a person who stays confined to his home without any spiritual improvement. It must be mentioned that this distinction between the visible and inner aspects of the hajj has been expressed in different ways in Sufi literature. In comparison with al-Hujwīrī’s words, ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī (d. 1166) categorized two types of pilgrimage which are ‘the pilgrimage of the sharia and the pilgrimage of the ṭarīqa’ (al-Jīlānī 1971, 45–46), showing that many Sufis considered the hajj first of all a religious duty, which could be seamlessly combined with its spiritual dimension.
According to al-Hujwīrī, to know the true value of the hajj we can refer to an anecdote by Bāyazīd Bisṭāmī (d. 874), known as sulṭān al-ʿārifīn (‘king of the mystics’). Bistāmī says: ‘On my first pilgrimage I saw only the house, the second time, I saw the house and its owner, and the third time I only saw its owner’ (al-Hujwīrī 2001, 427). This passage is the best example of a critical Sufi point of view regarding superficial pilgrimage. Indeed, it turns attention toward the ‘true’ faith instead of visiting the stone building of the Kaʿba since the essence of the hajj performance is the remembrance of God in the heart. A purified heart, which belongs to the true mystic, is described as the true Kaʿba. Ibn al-ʿArabī considers, ‘If the people go around the Kaʿba (ṭawāf), divine incoming thoughts (khawāṭir ilāhiyya) go around the mystic’s heart’ (Ibn al-ʿArabī n.d., 52). This idea is rooted in a hadith in which he Prophet says, ‘The believer’s heart is the throne of the Compassionate’ (qalb al-muʾmin ʿarsh al-Raḥmān) (Majlisī n.d.).3 Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī expresses the idea most clearly in the following verse:
O people who have gone on Hajj where are you, where are you?The Beloved is right here, come forth, come forth4
Thus, religious pretense as a worldly trend is rejected in the concept of the hajj because Sufi thought rejects worldly concerns and is more rooted in the ascetic tendency of early Sufis. The hajj is conceived as an allegory for an ascending esoteric journey (safar) toward the divine beloved that allows for the development of the soul in order to obtain submission to God and ‘annihilation’ of the self. The pilgrimage becomes a key metaphor for a movement from diversity (kathra) toward unity (waḥda), as pilgrims on the hajj must pass through different stages. Furthermore, the hajj is a metaphor for the return journey of man to God after death according to Dhū al-Nūn al-Miṣrī (d. 861):
For [Dhū al-Nūn, ns], pilgrimage to Mecca is associated with the Muslim’s journey to heaven after his death. To mention hajj as a divine call, Dhū al-Nūn put the performance of hajj to a complex undertaking along the course of a human soul to return to Divine origin. In short, Dhū al-Nūn formulated the mystical significances of hajj as sorts of vision of the spiritual states in the world to come (mushāhadāt aḥwāl al-ākhira). He put further the shared benefits of hajj, i.e. to increase certainty about the witness of Hereafter, about the existence of spirit, leisure (rāḥa), yearning to God, the need for intimacy within heart, tranquility to God, taking a lesson from the rituals, and to halt (wuqūf) on the mystical state of gnosis.
Syarifuddin 2017, 785
While conducting the hajj, a visit to the Prophet’s shrine is also valued, along with the Islamic concept of jihad. The Persian Sufi Abū Najīb Suhrawardī (d. 1168) narrated a hadith in which three groups are considered travellers of God: ḥājjīs (those who have completed the pilgrimage to Mecca), ghāzīs (warriors) and ʿumra kunandihs (those who undertake ʿumra) (Suhrawardī 1984, 28). In this way, introducing Sufi figures who fulfil all of the above-mentioned roles is very interesting particularly in Sufi biographies (tadhkira). For instance, Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār (d. 1220) in Tadhkirat al-ʾawliyāʾ introduced ʿAbd Allāh Mubārak as a great shaykh who performed the hajj in one year, participated in a jihad in another year and did business in the next year, and all Muslims benefited from his trade (Aṭṭār 2007, 184). This story shows how Sufis were engaged in both worldly and otherworldly matters.
A further point to be considered is how the difference between outward and inward aspects of the hajj indicates a distinction between two groups of pilgrims: the elite (khawāṣṣ) and the common people (ʿawāmm) (Abrahamov 2018, 16). In many Sufi texts a distinction is made between the common believers, who have just to follow their obligations, and the privileged few who are able to develop mystical insights and reach inner purification. ʿAyn al-Quḍāt Hamadānī (d. 1131), for instance, believes that most pilgrims perform the ‘visible’ pilgrimage (ḥajj-e ṣūrat) while a minority performs the ‘true’ pilgrimage (ḥajj-e ḥaqīqat) (Hamadānī 1991, 57). Thus, only the minority perceives the profound meaning of the ritual. For the common believers, the ritual must be performed according to the rules to develop the soul and obtain nearness to God.
Because the long journey to Mecca was out of reach for most Sufis and filled with hardships and obstacles, Sufi poets liked to compare the journey to the path of lovers to obtain their beloved (Masud 2002, 13). Hence, Sufi literature benefited from the concept of divine love and described each stage of the hajj in subtle and poetic terms. From this perspective,
the iḥrām is the expression of a clear contract with God through an obvious intention. Changing one’s ordinary clothes before the iḥrām represents exorcizing bad traits and transgressions, and the iḥrām embodies a sign of the values of forbearance (ṣabr) and neediness (faqr). Running between al-Ṣafā and al-Marwa is a symbolic race with mysteries between the pure revelation of God’s Majesty and His subtle Beauty.
Abrahamov 2018, 22
2 The Pilgrimage and Its Social Aspects
The social dimension of the hajj in terms of establishing and reconfirming Sufi networks and the social practices that pilgrims engage in, have been the topic of both general and more specific studies.6 There are many associated questions such as: how can a Sufi pilgrimage be understood as a social activity? How can the hajj be perceived as a communal ritual in Sufism and not only as a personal spiritual issue for individual salvation? To answer such questions, we have to look at the social practices in Sufi discourse which can be related to the hajj, such as the rituals in preparation to the journey toward the Holy Land; the rituals during the journey toward Mecca; and the sojourn in places where Sufis may meet leading figures, visit the tombs of great masters, and meeting masters in order to ask them to write amulets in order to pass through stages successfully.
The first point with regard to the social dimension of the hajj is the combining of the hajj with the concept of secular travel (safar) in many Sufi texts.7 The relation between the hajj and the concept of travelling has been observed on two levels. From the outset, four allegorical and internal journeys (al-asfār al-arbaʿa)8 which are analogous to the ‘subjective’ or ‘inner’ voyage (seyr-e anfusi), and the ‘external’ aspect of the hajj as an ‘objective’ voyage (seyr-e āfāqi) must be highlighted. For Sufis, the hajj has two sides to which ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Qushayrī (d. 1074) refers in his al-Risāla al-Qushayriyya:
Know that travelling is in two divisions. The first way of travelling is by the body which transfers from one place to another place. The second way of travelling is by the heart, which turns from one attribute [of God, ns] to another. Thousands travel but few travel by the heart.
al-Qushayrī 2009, 488
Secondly, considering the concept of travel and the hajj together explains the undeniable physical interaction with non-Sufi pilgrims. Many masters collected the Sufi wayfarers and organized and managed caravans which can be seen as a significant social activity. Al-Ḥallāj’s (d. 922) caravan can be referred to as an example, since he was accompanied by four hundred disciples during his second pilgrimage (Aṭṭār 2007, 512).9 Being a member of a Sufi master’s caravan demonstrates strong affinities with the master’s way of thinking and it gave fellow travelers a chance to observe rituals according to the leader’s interpretation of Islam. In addition, travelling in a master’s caravan protected fellow travelers from brigands and marauders and strengthened the sense of unity among the disciples.
Thirdly, debates on etiquette while on the journey and residence at home (ādāb-e safar va ḥaẓar), and on companionship and fellowship (ādāb-e hamneshini va ṣoḥbat), expose the social dimension of Sufi hajj rites. Many authors shared their thoughts on communication and interactions with others after a discussion about the hajj because the hajj developed strong bonds of friendship and companionship (Arabic: ṣuḥba, Persian: ṣoḥbat) with masters and other people. For instance, in his al-Lumaʿ fī al-taṣawwuf, Abū Naṣr al-Sarrāj writes a chapter immediately following one concerning the hajj, discussing ‘etiquette of the paupers behavior with each other and the laws for the journey and residence at home’ (ādāb-e raftār-e fogharā bā ham va aḥkām-e safar va ḥaẓar) then he talks about hamneshini and ṣoḥbat.10 These topics are about the rules of ascetic practices, rules for sitting, sleeping, mystical dancing (samāʿ), as well as the disciple-master relationship.11
The fourth issue to understand Sufi concerns regarding social relationships in the broader cultural context is the etiquette that Sufi pilgrims must observe in the Holy Land. Residence in Mecca was very important for all ‘wayfarers’ and prominent masters because it extended their network widely and supported the spread of their mystical teachings. Being in the center of the Islamic world paved the way to not only interact with Sufi pilgrims but also with the rulers, leading scholars, religious leaders, well-known masters of the time, disciples, and common people. At this point, the narrated meetings in Sufi hagiographies (tadhkiras) can be mentioned. For instance, al-Fuḍayl ibn ʿIyāḍ (d. 803) met Abū Ḥanīfa (d. 767) in Mecca and they discussed various theological topics. Also, he was surrounded by many pupils who asked for his advice on the path (Aṭṭār 2007, 78) One of the famous mystics who benefited from al-Fuḍayl b. ʿIyāḍ’s companionship was Ibrahīm Adham (d. c. 782) who met many other masters in Mecca such as Safyān al-Thawrī (d. 778), and Abū Yūsuf Ghasūlī (Jāmī 1996, 41). Moreover, travelling toward the Holy Land and staying in Mecca12 for a long time were seen as attempts to revisit the Prophet’s religiosity and imitate his morality. The aim was to increase one’s faith and receive divine inspiration, seeking to obtain a clear vision at the most sacred site of Islam (Abrahamov 2018, 18). What is important in the present chapter is the social effect of the spiritual achievements that a stay in Mecca or a departure from the city offered. For instance, Shāh Walī Allāh, as he narrates in Fuyūḍ al-Ḥaramayn, a book about his spiritual experiences in the Holy Places in 1731, had a vision whilst in Mecca in which he could connect with the Prophet’s spirituality and was appointed by him as the ‘preserver of time’ (qāʾim al-zamān). What gave credibility and legitimacy to his authority were his physical presence in Mecca, his visiting the Kaʿba and establishing a spiritual relationship with the Prophet there. Consequently, he became an important and influential figure who led the Muslim community toward a revival of Islam in the eighteenth century (Rizvi 1983, vol. 2:253).
Fifthly, one of the mystical rituals is visiting the tombs of great masters (ziyāra) which is an inevitable duty to be performed before the hajj has even started. In thus paying reverence to deceased masters, who are called ʾawliyāʾ (friends of God, singular walī), the pilgrimage was blessed because wayfarers benefited from proximity to the holiness of the place in order to connect themselves to the religious authority of that walī, swearing allegiance to him and revisiting his teachings. It was an opportunity to perform collective rituals like majles-e dhekr (Arabic: majlis al-dhikr: a session for the recollection of God) and entrancing dances (samāʿ). What must be considered is that visiting the shrines was different from the pilgrimage to Mecca and its social consequence was also different since it was within reach for common people who lacked the financial means to travel to the Holy Land. Without the obligation to observe certain rituals and temporal limitations, ziyāra was more informal and was performed at several holy shrines in a broad geographic area which covered various local cultures. In comparison with the hajj, the etiquettes of ziyāra were not standardized. They were in compliance with local culture and varied from one ṭarīqa to another. It can be argued that the etiquettes of ziyāra were more flexible towards the culture and the different ways of thinking of visitors (Valdinoci 2008, 213).13 In this way, ziyāra became an alternative for those who could not travel to the Holy Land,14 not in the least since they would also encounter caravans of pilgrims at the shrines and at lodges. Pilgrims were considered to be intermediaries between God and the believers, and meeting them was a way to find spiritual release from concerns of everyday life and solutions for personal problems.15
Shrines functioned as communication centres between pilgrims and other travelers from different Muslim regions, bridges between far-flung religious places, which through the hajj were connected to the centre of Islam in Mecca. The result of such interaction must be considered as a means to unite disparate understandings of Islam which had educational and proselytizing consequences. However, ziyāra and the veneration of graves also caused clashes among Muslims, since it was labeled as an inadmissible innovation by strict adherents to the sharia because the practices of Sufis at shrines were marked by music, singing and dancing that evoked ecstasy. Therefore, the strict adherents of the sharia viewed the increasing popularity of ziyāra, that became more common than traveling to Mecca, as a danger for orthodox religiosity (Werbner 2013, 63).
The sixth point is also related to Sufi social institutions. Along with shrines, madrasas (religious schools) and Sufi hospices (khānqāhs) should be recognized as active cultural and social centres.16 They were places in which pilgrims stayed and rested. They provided the opportunity for travelers to become acquainted with local Sufi traditions since Sufi khānqāhs were full of disciples from different classes, ranging from common people to traders, notables, and soldiers. Sufi travelers and masters participated in rituals of the khānqāhs such as dhikrs, or they were asked to hold majlis gatherings based on their own methods. For example, Jāmī reports that Muḥammad b. al-Faẓl al-Balkhī (d. 931) held a majlis in a khānqāh in Nishapur on the way to Mecca (Jāmī 1996, 89). The opportunity to meet the masters gave travelling Sufis the chance to converse with them and to receive blessings and to be strengthened on the path of God. Therefore, the value of these places for the exchange of mystical experiences and knowledge is significant. The result of meeting other active Sufi orders significantly shaped the social performance of mystical worldviews since they shared their missions and ways of thought with each other. These meetings with the shaykhs and their vicegerents extended the circles of followers because they encouraged many disciples to join a specific ṭarīqa (Stauth and Schielke 2008).17 For instance, after staying in Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī’s (d. c. 1234) khānqāh in Baghdad, Shaykh Bahāʾ al-Dīn Zakariyā Mūlatānī (d. 1262) was initiated in his ṭarīqa and became his disciple (Jāmī 1996, 319).
Finally, arguably the most important practice in Sufi tradition offering the means to gain spiritual benefits from social interactions was the practice of ‘service’ (Arabic: khidma, Persian: khedmat). It was believed that service to people (khidma bi khalq) is a devotional service to God (khidma bi Allah). A Sufi pilgrim who travels as a member of a caravan performs the ziyāra and stayed in a madrasa or a khānqāh, has the opportunity to perform khidma by providing a place of rest for others, offering sustenance, cleaning their shoes and clothes, and feeding their horses. In fact, repentance (tawba), purification from sins, and forbearance (ṣabr), are all inner changes, which lead the one serving to remove discriminations and help him to understand the notion of equality. Like an ethical act, the pilgrim performs khidma and has contact with others regardless of whether he is a master, disciple, rich, poor, male or female. Although this practice was not related only to the hajj pilgrimage, there are many anecdotes in Sufi literature about how great masters rendered khidma while traveling to Mecca. Jāmī demonstrates the significance of khidma by quoting a sentence from Abū al-Ḥusayn b. Jahẓam who believed visiting Sufi masters and serving them was an important duty on the path (Jāmī 1996, 185), with the ultimate aim to spread peace and harmony among Sufis and all members of the umma (Muslim community) who come together to complete their pilgrimage. This is illustrated by some verses by Rūmī:
Rūmī 2009, vol. 2:1044Ḥajj commands us to circumambulate the apparent Kaʿba—in order to soothe someone through it—[If] you do circumambulate barefoot the Kaʿba one thousand times,Ḥajj will not accept it if you hurt the feelings of someone.
As is noted in Rūmī’s poem, khidma is respect for others’ rights because it suppresses pride and selfishness, fosters communication, and increases intimacy between wayfarers on the path of the hajj.
After focusing on different elements in the social lives of pilgrims, the remainder of the chapter scrutinizes two selected pieces of Sufi literature in order to provide a comparative understanding of similarities and differences between two groups of Sufis with various cultural backgrounds from two parts of the Islamic world.
3 Social Features of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s Pilgrimage
Among several written Persian texts Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn (‘The road of passionate lovers’) can be mentioned in particular as illustrating the social aspects of the hajj (Khwarazmī 2011). Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn contains an account of the journey to Mecca in 1549 of Shaykh Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn Khwarazmī (d. 1551), the founder of the Ḥusayniyya ṭarīqa, a branch of Kubrāwiyya.18 The work was composed between 1561–1565 by Sharīf al-Dīn Ḥusayn Khwarazmī, who was Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s son and disciple. Along with Miftāḥ al-ṭālibīn written by Maḥmūd Ghajduwānī, it is the main source informing us about Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s teachings as a great master in Khwarazm, Bukhara and Damascus (Khwarazmī 2011, 12). The social and geographical area of Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn’s influence could be assessed since its audience were Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s disciples from Transoxiana, specifically Samarqand, Tashkent, Ḥiṣār, Khatlān and Badakhshān (Khwarazmī 2011, 14).19 The work is organized in fifteen chapters, among which the ninth through the twelfth chapters are about the hajj and include a travelogue.
Analysing the text from the perspective of social practices shows that the author, Sharīf al-Dīn Ḥusayn, was personally engaged in the social affairs of Sufi pilgrims since he was appointed as a caravan leader by Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn (Khwarazmī 2011, 18).20 The members of the caravan were from different social classes and what united them was their being Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s followers. Moreover, the caravan had a multicultural composition since Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s disciples joined him from different areas, and many well-known Sufi and non-Sufi figures joined the caravan as the journey proceeded. Indeed, diverse levels of religiosity among fellow travelers is another social aspect of this caravan that provided Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn with a chance to collect and guide a large number of wayfarers and initiate them to his ṭarīqa (Khwarazmī 2011, 50). Their journey toward the Holy Land started with the traditional visits to tombs in Samarqand and Bukhara such as the grave of Sayf al-Dīn Bākharzī (d. 1261), and two well-known Sufis of the Yasawiyya ṭarīqa, Ḥakīm Ātā (d. 1186) and Sayyid Ātā (lived in thirteenth and fourteenth centuries).21 There were also gatherings in khānqāh-e Fatḥ-ābādi, which created a connection between their living master’s teachings and his deceased mystic elders (Khwarazmī 2011, 28). Moreover, these meetings confirmed social relationships and the exchange of Khurāsānī, Turkistanī and particularly Kubrāwī ways of thinking. At the same time, they prepared pilgrims spiritually for the journey to Mecca and Medina (ibid., 19).22
The information contained in Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn about the Sunni predominance of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s caravan allows us to analyse the religious tenor of their activities with regard to political conflicts between Shiʿi Safawids and Sunni Ottomans. It should be pointed out that the Safawids suppressed Sunnis and imposed their adherence to Shīʿī practices in Iran, encouraging, for instance, an alternative pilgrimage to Karbala and the shrines of Shiʿi Imāms instead of Mecca (Bhardwaj 1998, 80). The caravan route went exclusively through Sunni territory and that demonstrates how interactions between Sunni Sufis legitimized Sunni rulers’ power in the conflict between two communities of Islam. Among those rulers who visited Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn, the name of the Shaybanid leader ʿUbaydullāh Khān Ghāzī, the ruler of Samarqand and Khwarazm, must be mentioned. He played a key role in the struggles with the Safawids (Khwarazmī 2011, 18). ʿUbaydullāh Khān Ghāzī, along with all his court and aristocrats, welcomed the shaykh and his caravan and solicited their spiritual blessing, so as to obtain the influence of a reputable leading master’s support in their political operations.
The meeting, in 1549, between Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn and the Ottoman Sultan Sulaymān (d. 1566), the most important political figure whom he met, can be understood in a similar way. When Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn arrived in Istanbul with three hundred companions, he was welcomed by many notables (sādāt) and religious scholars (Khwarazmī 2011, 46). Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn usually avoided visiting royal families and kings, and it was a tradition in the Ottoman Empire that the emperor did not visit persons outside his court, but after Sultan Sulaymān (r. 1520–1566) had sent his representatives to express his apologies and invite him to the court. He convinced Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn and his disciples to accept his invitation for a meeting at the court by referring to a hadith of the Prophet expressing that he did not refuse any invitations (ibid., 48). The event coincided with the traditional public audience of the emperor wherein he saluted all people, from elites to paupers, but on that day the people were more excited by the presence of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn. In addition, a private meeting with the Ottoman emperor was arranged, who was impressed by Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn and said: ‘I had heard about many good men and I had met many [of them, ns]; But I have not seen and I have not heard [of someone, ns] like you’ (ibid., 46–49).
The strong bond between the Ḥusayniyya ṭarīqa and the Ottomans was further developed after Bayazīd, the son of Sultan Sulaymān, joined Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s order. According to traditions in the Ottoman Empire, the prince had a private conversation with the shaykh, but after a while it was declared that all were invited to join the meeting because the prince had been initiated into the Ḥusayniyya (ibid., 53).
The next point regarding Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s pilgrimage is that it provided the opportunity to meet leading spiritual figures on the way to the Holy Land, for instance, Mīr Lājawardī, a master in the Khwājagān order (ibid., 59). These meetings with religious scholars and Sufis are important to comprehend his social activities. Among the pious men he met, the name should be mentioned of Dervish Bahrām, who devoted himself to the Ḥusayniyya ṭarīqa.23 Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn benefited from the interaction with masters and Sufis in khānqāhs as a way to expand networks in addition to exchanging spiritual practices. For instance, after visiting Rūmī’s tomb in Konya, he and his disciples participated in a majlis according to the Mawlawiyya rules, namely, a mixture of reading the Qurʾan, remembrance of God (dhikr), prayer, commemorating earlier Sufis, reading passages from the Mathnawī, and music and dancing. The majlis was held for three days and Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn and his companions experienced wajd or a state of ecstasy from samāʾ (ibid., 55). Additionally, Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s stays in khānqāhs and madrasas allowed him to connect with a large number of common people and novice Sufis from all classes and walks of life, some of whom could not carry out the pilgrimage. They participated in his sessions for the remembrance of God and he taught them the formulas of the dhikr.
The last point of interest from a social perspective is the building of a khānqāh for accommodating Ḥusaynī Sufis in Mecca which shows that Mecca was a center where various ways of thinking and cultural differences met (ibid., 23). For Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn, new khānqāhs in different areas functioned as instruments for spreading his teachings and offered support to his adherents. After his pilgrimage, he settled in Damascus with the aim to represent the Ḥusayniyya as an active ṭarīqa in a city that was regarded a holy site among Sufis and was known for Ibn al-ʿArabī’s grave and many shrines of other famous Sufis. He was buried in Damascus.24
Our discussion of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s pilgrimage shows how the hajj served Sufi ṭarīqas to build and uphold networks which connected often remote parts of the Muslim world with the center of the faith in the Hijaz. These networks not only facilitated the hajj journey for all kinds of pilgrims, but also supported the ṭarīqas themselves, because they were able to strengthen their political significance, recruit new followers on the route and revitalize their spiritual activities through exchange with other ṭarīqas and their infrastructural and symbolic connection with the Holy Places. In the next section we will explore how, in a somewhat later period, these mechanisms were relevant for a Sufi from the Maghrib, which, like Central Asia, was relatively far away from the central Muslim lands.
4 A Moroccan Sufi and His Journey to Mecca: ʿAbd al-Majīd al-Zabādī al-Murādī (1745)
In early modern Morocco, the boundaries between religious scholarship, Sufism and popular practices were not very strict. A respectable scholar would have at least some knowledge of the sciences of the ‘invisible’ (ghayb), while prominent Sufis would stress their adherence to the Mālikī school of legal orthodoxy. Whatever brotherhood they belonged to, when on pilgrimage to Mecca they would without explication combine the obligatory rites of the hajj with visits to graves of pious saints and fellow Sufis on the way. The element connecting the two was a fundamental spirituality and ethical consciousness, which could be expressed in various forms. This spirituality had a strong social component, which embedded Sufism in society in general and in regional and trans-regional Sufi networks more in particular. As a rule, before departing for the hajj, Sufis would make a tour around the lodges (zāwiyas) of their order in the region, thereby strengthening the bonds between the brothers and acquiring the permission and baraka from fellow-Sufis and spiritual masters. On the way, some would visit as many saintly graves as they could, while others would restrict their ziyāras to the main figures and most convenient sanctuaries. The most important aim was the wish to strengthen the scholarly and spiritual networks in the different regions, both within the ṭarīqa and between different branches of scholarship and spiritual practice.
To illustrate how these aspects of spirituality and the hajj were combined by Sufi pilgrims in the Maghrib in the eighteenth century, we will here briefly discuss the interesting travelogue written by the scholar and Shādhilī Sufi ʿAbd al-Majīd al-Zabādī al-Murādī, usually called al-Zabādī, of his journey to Mecca in 1745. After explaining the ‘rules for travelling’ (ādāb al-safar), in the opening pages of his travelogue, and after stressing the necessity of ‘patience’ (ṣabr), since ‘travelling is suffering’ (al-Murādī n.d., 12), al-Zabādī proceeds to relate his trajectory from Fes to Tripoli, mentioning the various graves he visited on the way to obtain baraka from the pious saints who have ‘knowledge of God’ (ʿārif bi-Allāh),25 and exchanging information about various Sufi practices, prayers and litanies. Most of the saints are not well known and sometimes even the author cannot remember their names (ibid., 16–19, 21, 26, 29). The most significant visit is the one in Tripoli to the zāwiya of the great shaykh Sīdī Aḥmad al-Zarrūq al-Burnusī (d. 899), where al-Zabādī spends the night. Al-Burnusī, he explains, was one of the main shaykhs of the Shādhilī order, who wrote about the rules of the ṭarīqa which were still of fundamental importance in his day. Al-Zabādī adds a list of al-Burnusī’s teachers and shaykhs (ibid., 42–44).
From Cairo, al-Zabādī travels to Mecca over land with the Egyptian caravan, on the way reading the famous Burda and Hamziyya, two poetic eulogies of the Prophet composed by al-Būṣīrī (1213–1294) (ibid., 26, 76). He dons the iḥrām costume in Juḥfa, near Rābigh, and buys adequate sandals, pronouncing the talbiyya and the niyya, or intention to perform the hajj. The first view of the Kaʿba is a highly emotional moment: his ‘mind is bewildered’, his heart ‘reaches out to him’, and ‘peace descends on his soul’. This is, of course, a typical spiritual interpretation of the event, which is accompanied by references to Qurʾanic verses. Al-Zabādī kisses the Black Stone more than once, and not only with his mouth, because ‘that would not be sufficient to heal the ailing pilgrim’, again a spiritual allusion (ibid., 85). The sight of the Kaʿba fills him with humility (khushūʿ and khuḍūʿ), two topical terms for the emotions fitting the occasion. After completing the various obligatory rituals of the hajj and the ʿumra, he visits the many monuments related to the family of the Prophet and other historical figures. He does not refrain from mentioning the abuses and fighting among the pilgrims when the Kaʿba is opened for the public for one day. He adds that there is a separate day reserved for women (ibid., 105–106).
During his stay in Mecca, al-Zabādī meets several fellow-Sufis. He befriends a shaykh from Shinqīṭ (Mauretania) and a shaykh from Morocco who, in front of the Kaʿba, recites for him the great litany (al-ḥizb al-kabīr) of al-Shādhilī and asks for a written ‘diploma’ (ijāza), while al-Zabādī ‘takes’ from some members of the Nāṣirī order their particular prayer (wird) for which he acquires an ijāza. Another student, who had received a special hadith from him through a straight line of transmission from the Prophet (al-musalsal bi al-awwaliyya; the hadith ‘al-Raḥma’), presents him with some frankincense in front of the Kaʿba, thereby endowing it with special baraka. In Medina, al-Zabādī prays in the rawḍa in the Prophet’s Mosque, only one pillar separating him from the chamber of the Prophet’s grave (ḥujra). He visits the cemetery al-Baqīʿ and the tomb of Ḥamza in Uḥud, the site of a famous battle in the early years of Islam. He also socializes with other pilgrims, attending dhikrs and haḍras where the Burda and the Ḥamziyya are recited, two significant devotional texts in praise of the Prophet. His efforts to communicate with some Persians fail, because they are unable to understand him (ibid., 131, 142–143).
It is on his return journey to Morocco, and especially in Cairo, that al-Zabādī seriously delves into the Sufi-scenes. Here, he attends the dhikrs and ḥalqas (prayer meetings) of the Rifāʿiyya order, which is known for its ecstatic rituals, to evoke a state of ‘shared ecstacy’ (tawājud) through singing, and a state of ‘unconsciousness’ (ghaybūba) through dancing, to such an extent that they are able to ‘hold snakes, descend into blazing ovens and ride lions’ (ibid., 172, 181). He also participates in a ḥalqa of the Khalwatiyya order, known for their strict rules and relentless discipline. Finally, al-Zabādī visits the tomb of the great Sufi master Aḥmad al-Badawī in Tanta, where he witnesses a ḥaḍra and learns the precise formulas that are uttered by the Sufis to attain a state of trance (ibid., 285).
Al-Zabādī’s account of his encounters in Egypt shows that the various levels of religiosity are seamlessly combined in his spiritual practice. He visits not only the well-known Sufi orders, but also the graves of the great legal scholar al-Shāfiʿī, and the mausoleum of Sayyida Nafīsa, a descendant of the Prophet, which was a center of popular piety (ibid., 199–206). He visits a respected Azharī scholar of Mālikī law and hadith, next to a Sufi shaykh known for his knowledge of litanies, dhikrs, and chains of transmission of Sufi initiation, for instance, through handshakes, ṣuḥba, the transmission of dhikrs or the handing over of the khirqa, or Sufi robe (ibid., 247). He does not eschew meeting an eccentric shaykh who, during a teaching session, suddenly lets out a huge cry and falls down unconscious. People start shouting and weeping, while others faint or are struck dumb. When the shaykh regains consciousness, he begins to abuse the women present with obscene language, until finally he and his disciples retire to his room to have a frugal meal (ibid., 305–307).
After his return home, al-Zabādī will certainly have felt greatly enriched by his experiences while exploring the Sufi communities during his journey. He made full use of the hidden and less hidden opportunities which the sacred geography and its networks had to offer to strengthen and reshape his personal form of religiosity. He visited important and less important landmarks which were centres of local practices and spirituality, emphasizing that his journey was a spiritual trajectory, linking him to the rich heritage of Sufism, collecting baraka and ijāzas, and learning new ritual practices. His account also stresses the essential importance of legal scholarship, through his discussions with scholars and references to legal doctrines. This culminates in his discussion of the permissibility of smoking tobacco, which he explicitly rejects. Here, too, legal scholarship and Sufism converge, since not only legal arguments are referred to, but also a shaykh who says that anyone who has rendered himself impure by smoking, should not be allowed to recite the Dalāʾil al-khayrāt, the famous eulogy of the Prophet by the Moroccan Sufi Muḥammad al-Jazūlī (d. 1465), which was particularly popular among Sufis (ibid., 263).
However important these elements may be, the main significance of al-Zabādī’s account lies in the way he explores and reveals how Sufi networks were interlinked in a kind of social substratum, which integrated not only forms of religiosity and piety, but also communities connected through ritual practices and common visions of religion. These networks were strengthened through encounters, visits and participation, but especially through the communication of texts, practices and chains of transmission, and the exchange of ijāzas, baraka, initiations, and shared ecstatic experiences. This reinforcement of Sufi networks is of course enhanced by the account itself, which not only reveals the existence of these networks, but also provides new information about practices, texts and people. It shows how in this phase of globalization, marked by intensified interaction between the different regions of the Muslim world, the practice of the hajj made possible the encounter and entanglement of different trends in Sufism, originating in Morocco, Egypt and Asia, such as the Khalwatiyya, Shādhiliyya, Naqshbandiyya, Rifāʿiyya, Badawiyya, Nāṣiriyya, Malāmatiyya, Qādiriyya and Aydarūsiyya, all referred to by al-Zabādī.26
A final interesting aspect of al-Zabādī’s account is the way in which it emphasizes the physical and emotional dimensions of the hajj and spiritual practices, instead of focusing on the legal and ritual aspects only. Although his account of his stay in Mecca and the actual hajj is rather formal and framed in quotations, formulas to express his exaltation, we find remarks that betray his personal emotions. One remark epitomizes how for al-Zabādī experience and ritual prescriptions are integrated:
ʿUlāmāʾ and pious saints can be found in all places, but the Kaʿba is only here, so I preferred to stay in the Grand Mosque. Still, God will take care that the baraka of the saints will not pass by me.
al-Murādī n.d., 96
Clearly, al-Zabādī does not share the more common Sufi suspicion of the Kaʿba as a material site representing the Divine, which obscures true insight in His reality; he is confident that the various religious domains will converge in his person through God’s grace.
5 Conclusion
Our discussion of two Sufi travelogues has shown that the main social achievement of the hajj among Sufis was communication which was helpful to spread the message of an individual ṭarīqa to other Muslims. The hajj served to distinguish the pious identity of Sufi leaders, who were considered elites in the spiritual sense, and who were separated from common pilgrims, who were adherents to juridical understandings of the pilgrimage or who initially focused on superficial, physical, aspects of religious laws. Although the aims of the hajj can be understood as an ascetic performance, involving the purification of the soul, the acquisition of higher knowledge, and the procurement of divine blessings, visitation to Islamic religious centres allows for the following: fellowship with shaykhs and their disciples, and being in contact with representatives of a ṭarīqa in a different part of the Islamic world. This all contributed to revisiting teachings and preserving Islamic spirituality.
Comparative analysis of the hajj accounts of Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn and al-Zabādī’s journeys shows, first, that the practices directed at social communication described by Kamal al-Dīn Ḥusayn in the sixteenth century, were common, too, among Moroccan Sufis of the eighteenth century. It seems that these practices had a clear and important function in stabilizing Sufi networks and preserving textual and ritual traditions. The visiting of graves and living fellow-Sufis, the exchange of information and texts, the confirmation of chains of initiation and teaching, the evocation of spiritual experiences through shared sessions, and the introduction to methods and practices from other Muslim lands all show how the basic strategies of the Sufi orders resisted historical transformations to a certain extent. They also show how the hajj was an essential mechanism to combine travelling with religious purposes as an integrated spiritual undertaking which represented a lifeline for the various Sufi communities. Finally, it shows how legal and spiritual components were combined in the concept and practice of the hajj, on the one hand by endowing it with a deep spiritual significance, which almost rendered the physical hajj redundant, or, on the other hand, by using the framework of legal obligations to construct specific forms of spirituality and religious experience. It seems that al-Zabādī effortlessly combines these different components of religiosity in his role as a devout pilgrim.
If we compare the two travelogues, it is remarkable how persistent the function of the hajj has been for the stabilization and vitality of Sufi networks throughout the Muslim world. It also shows how, ultimately, the Holy Places served as a center where these networks met. In Mecca and Medina, Moroccan Sufis encountered fellow Sufis from Asia and could observe each other’s practices, although linguistic difficulties often prevented direct communication. Exchanges also took place during the journey, either fostering the spread of tariqas or enriching practices by new shared experiences. The two travelogues show that these functions were preserved and even further developed during the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, a period which witnessed increasing interaction between the diverse parts of the Muslim world. This interaction is especially illustrated by Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s visit to the Ottoman Sultan, which established not only religious, but also political channels of communication.
The main part of this chapter was written by Neda Saghaee; the sections on al-Zabādī were added by Richard van Leeuwen.
Other titles include: al-Ḥakīm al-Tirmidhī (d. c. 905–910), al-Ḥajj wa asrāruhu; Abū Naṣr al-Sarrāj (d. 988), al-Lumaʿ fī al-taṣawwuf; Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī (d. 996), Qūt al-qulūb.
See Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s translation in Nasr 2019.
Rūmī 2009, vol. 1:235. This verse is Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s translation in Nasr 2019.
See the discussion in Sulamī 2001.
Many scholars try to disclose different aspects of the hajj. For instance, Coleman and Eade focused on the cultural, social and economic sides of pilgrimages in their work. See Coleman and Eade 2004, 6. They believe that ‘pilgrims’ own models of pilgrimage’ are under the influence of common religious and cultural atmosphere in the society (ibid., 17). Pilgrimage can be seen as involving ‘(…) the institutionalization (or even domestication) of mobility in physical, metaphorical and/or ideological terms’ (ibid.), cited in Valdinoci (2008, 207).
For the pre-modern context, travel accounts (Arabic: riḥla; Persian: safarnāma) routinely include the hajj, ʿumra, and ziyāra (the visitation of holy places) as part of the itinerary. Travel or journeying in the pursuit of knowledge (riḥla fī ṭalab al-ʿilm) is a central commandment in Islam, as in the hadith attributed to the Prophet Muhammad: ‘Seek knowledge even in China.’ Travel took on different forms, from travel in the pursuit of knowledge to performing the pilgrimage to Mecca and visiting holy sites. See Meri 2017. One of the pre-modern literatures is Ḥajj Sayyāḥ’s travel account that is a mirror of religious and political circumstances of the time. See Lubis 2019, 63–87.
Four internal journeys (al-asfār al-arbaʿa) are: ‘from creation to the Truth’ (min al-khalq ilā al-Ḥaqq); ‘in Truth with the Truth’ (fī al-Ḥaqq bi al-Ḥaqq); ‘from the Truth to creation with the Truth’ (min al-Ḥaqq ila al-khalq bi al-Ḥaqq); ‘with the Truth in creation’ (fī al-khalq bi al-Ḥaqq). The discussion among mystics about these journeys can be traced in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s Risāla al-asfār ʿan natāʾij al-asfār as well as ʿAfīf al-Dīn Tilmisānī’s (d. 1291) commentary on the Manāzil al-sāʾirīn of Khwājah ʿAbd Allāh Anṣārī (d. 1088).
See Aṭṭār 2017, 513 in which it is narrated four thousand people accompany him in his pilgrimage.
See al-Sarrāj 1914. It was believed that prophetic spirituality can only be conveyed chest to chest. See Renard 2009, s.v. ‘companionship’.
Regarding ādāb-e safar and stories of mystical travel see Najm al-Dīn Kubrā’s (d. 1220) Ādāb al-ṣūfiyya and Ṣayf al-Dīn Bākharzī’s (d. 1269) al-Taṣfiyya fī aḥwāl al-mutaṣawwifa which are about the appropriate manner of personal conduct along the journey. In addition, fellow travelers, who are companions of a master in the hajj, could attain spiritual achievement through the mediatory role of their shaykh. They could obtain ‘annihilation in the master’ (fanāʾ fī al-shaykh) who himself had become annihilated in God (fanā’ fī Allāh). Regarding the term fanāʾ see Renard 2009, s.v. ‘annihilation’.
Although some Sufi pilgrims performed the hajj only once in their lifetime, many Sufis made pilgrimage to Mecca several times in order to be blessed by the effect of the hajj. Jāmī’s work, Nafaḥāt al-uns, introduces many masters based on their performed pilgrimage. This sort of identification analyses the significance of pilgrimage for getting a reputation and gives criteria to assess their influential piety in ascetic Islamic lives. To illustrate Jami’s method, some cases can be referred to: ʿAlī b. Muwaffaq al-Baghdādī who performed the hajj seventy-seven times (see Jāmī 1996, 83), Shaykh Aḥmad Naṣr went twenty times (ibid., 195), ʿAlī b. Shuʿayb al-Saqqā fifty-five times (ibid., 83) and Abū Shuʿayb Mughannaʿ Miṣrī, a disciple of Abū Sa ʿīd Kharrāz, seventy times (ibid., 64). The stay in Mecca was called mujāwara (literary means nearness) and some key figures who chose to be a mujāwir in Mecca can be referred here: Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj (d. 922), who stayed in Mecca for one year after his first pilgrimage (see Schimmel 1975, 66), al-Ghazālī (d. 1111), who chose a very ascetic life in Mecca, Abū Sa ʿīd Kharrāz (Jāmī 1996, 61), Abū ʿUthmān al-Maghribī (ibid., 70), and Abū ʿAmr al-Zujājī (ibid., 114).
Regarding Sufi shrine pilgrimage, see Ernst 1994, 43–68.
The alternative pilgrimage has been named little hajj or the second hajj. For instance, performing pilgrimage three times to the shrine of Ahmet Yasawi, which was called ‘the second Mecca’ among the Kazakhs, was equal to a pilgrimage to Mecca (Ebadi 2016, 71).
For instance, shrines are very popular in India for a large number of people who call them dargāh and believe that these places are an ‘interface between the human world and God.’ See Bashir 2000, 302. Furthermore, Sufi orders value the practice of ziyāra since, for instance, Naqshbandīs in India believe that this practice grants spirituality to wayfarers. See Schimmel 1975, 175.
Khānqāhs were located near tombs of prominent spiritual figures and mosques.
Trimingham observes that in Indonesia, too, the pilgrimage was a means through which Sufism was spread (Trimingham 1971, 130).
Muṭribī al-Samarqandī mentions that he was a disciple of Shaykh Ḥājjī Aḥmad Khabūshānī who was a pupil of Shaykh Shāh who was a disciple of Shaykh Rashīd who was a disciple of Amīr ʿAbdullāh Yazdash Ābādī who was a disciple of Amīr ʿAlī Hamadānī. Thus, his ṭarīqa traces back to ʿAlā al-Dawla Simnānī (d. 1336), a well-known Kubrāwī master, and from Najm al-Dīn Kubrā to Najīb Suhrawardī, Aḥmad Ghazālī. See Muṭribī al-Samarqandī, Tadhkirat al-Shuʿarā (1382 Sh./2003), 650–652, cited in Jaʿfariyān’s Introduction of “Jādat al-ʿāshiqīn” (Khwarazmī 2011, 13).
Rashnu-zāda, s.v. ‘Kamal al-Dīn Khwarazmī,’ cited in Khwarazmī 2011, 14.
See also Khwarazmī’s narration 34.
Aḥmad Yasawī (d. 1166), founder of Yasawiyya. See Khwarazmī 2011, 36. Sayyid Ātā was the founder of Ātāʾiyya branch of Yasawiyya. See DeWeese 2011.
The members of the caravan were invited to join the caravan by their master’s letters (Khwarazmī 2011, 33).
Dervish Bahrām was a sincere devotee to Sufi teachings who led an ascetic life. He became intoxicated under Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusayn’s influence. See Khwarazmī 2011, 35. Another example, when the shaykh and his caravan departed from Istanbul to Damascus, an ascetic called Muṣṭafā who had met many well-known masters but had not devoted himself to their spirituality, came to swear allegiance to Kamāl al-Dīn Ḥusain because he had finally found his true spiritual guide, or the perfect man, in the shaykh. See ibid., 50.
He built a khānqāh for Ḥusaynī Sufi in Aleppo before his death. See Khwarazmī 2011, 25.
This refers to esoteric knowledge, as opposed to legal scholarship.
al-Murādī n.d., 115, 116, 172, 174, 182, 183, 184, 236, 279, 285, 307, 309, 314.
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