Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P2.Ch01 I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

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Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part I - Ibn 'Arabi

1 Dream and Reality

II The Absolute in its Absoluteness

III The Self-knowledge of Man

IV Metaphysical Unification and Phenomenal Dispersion

V Metaphysical Perplexity

VI The Shadow of the Absolute

VII The Divine Nam es

VIII Allah and the Lord

IX Ontological Mercy

X The Water of Life

XI The Self-manifestation of the Absolute

XII Permanent Archetypes

XIII Creation

XIV Man as Microcosm

XV The Perfect Man as an Individual

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reflection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

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Ch 1. Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

The book called Tao Tê Ching is now world-famous, and is being

widely read in the West in various translations as one of the most

important basic texts of Oriental Wisdom. It is generally - or

popularly, we should say - thought to be a philosophico-mystical

treatise written by an ancient Chinese sage called Lao-tzu, a senior

contemporary of Confucius. In more scholarly circles no one today

takes such a view.

In fact, since the Ch'ing Dynasty when the question of the author-

ship of the book was first raised in China, 1 it has been discussed by so

many people, it has provoked such an animated controversy not

only in China but in Japan, and even in the West, and so divergent

are the hypotheses which have been put forward, that we are left in

utter darkness as to whether the Tao Tê Ching is a work of an

individual thinker, or even whether a man called Lao-tzu ever

existed in reality. We are no longer in a position to assign a proper

chronological place to the book with full confidence.

For our particular purposes, the problem of authorship and the

authenticity of the work is merely of peripheral importance.

Whether or not there once existed as a historical person a sage

called Lao-tzu in the state of Ch'u, who lived more than one

hundred and sixty years,2 whether or not this sage really wrote the

Tao Tê Ching - these and similar questions, whether answered

affirmatively or negatively, do not affect at all the main contention

of the present work. What is of fondamental importance is the fact

that the thought is there, and that it has a very peculiar inner

structure which, if analyzed and understood in a proper way, will

provide an exceedingly interesting Chinese counterpart to the

'Unity of Existence' (walJ,dah al-wujüd) type of philosophy as rep-

resented by Ibn' Arabï in Islam. ·

Lao-tzu is a legendary, or at the very most, semi-legendary figure, of

whom it is an obvious understatement to say that nothing certain is

known tous. For, even on the assumption that there is an historical

core in his so-called biography, we must admit that the popular

imagination has woven round it such a fantastic tapestry of imposs-

ible events and unbelievable incidents that no one can ever hope to

disentangle the intricate web of legends, myths and focts.[288]

Even the most sober and most dependable of all Chinese his-

torians in ancient times, and the earliest to attempt a description of

Lao-tzu's life and adventures in his Book of History, 3 Ssu Ma Ch'ien

of the Han Dynasty (the beginning of the lst century B.C.), had to

be content with giving a very inconsistent and unsystematic narrative made up of a number of staries stemming from heterogeneous origins.

According to one of those legends, Lao-tzu was a native of the

state of Ch'u.4 He was an official of the royal Treasury of Chou,

when Confucius came to visit him. After the interview, Confucius is

related to have made the following remark to his disciples about

Lao-tzu. 'Birds fly, fishes swim, and animals run -this much 1 know

for certain. Moreover, the runner can be snared, the swimmer can

be hooked, and the flyer can be shot down by the arrow. But what

can we do with a dragon? We cannot even see how he mounts on

winds and clouds and rises to heaven. That Lao-tzu whom 1 met

to-day may probably be compared only to a dragon!'

The story makes Lao-tzu a senior contemporary of Confucius

(551-479 B.C.). This would naturally mean that Lao-tzu was a man

who lived in the 6th century B.C., which cannot possibly be a

historical fact.

Many arguments have been brought forward against the histori-

city of the narrative which we have just quoted. One of them is of

particular importance to us; it is concerned with examining this and

similar narratives philologically and in terms of the historical

development of philosophical thinking in ancient China. 

I shall give

here a typical example of this kind of philological argument.

Sokichi Tsuda in his well-known work, The Thought of the Taoist

School and its Development,5 subjects to a careful philological

examination the peculiar usage of some of the key technical terms in

the Tao Tê Ching, and arrives at the conclusion that the book must

be a product of a period after Mencius (372-289 B.C.). 

This would

imply of course that Lao-tzu - supposing that he did exist as a

historical person - was a man who came after Mencius.

Tsuda chooses as the yardstick of his judgment the expression

jen-i which is found in Chap. XVIII of the Tao Tê Ching,6 and which

is a compound of two words jen and i. These two words, jen

{'humaneness' with particular emphasis on 'benevolence') and i

('righteousness'), properly speaking, do not belong to the vocabul-

ary of Lao-tzu; they are key-terms of Confucianism. As represent-

ing two of the most basic human virtues, they play an exceedingly

important rôle in the ethical thought of Confucius himself.[289] 

But in the mouth of Confucius, they-remain two independent words; they

are not compounded into a semantic unit in the form of jen-i

corresponding almost to a single complex concept. The latter

phenomenon is observed only in post-Confucian times.

Tsuda points out that the thinker who first emphasized the con-

cept of jen-i is Mencius. This fact, together with the fact that in the

above-mentioned passage Lao-tzu uses the terms jen and i in this

compound form, would seem to suggest that the Tao Tê Ching, is a

product of a period in which the Confucian key-term jen-i has

already been firmly established, for the passage in question is most

evidently intended to be a conscious criticism of Confucian ethics.

Lao-tzu, in other words, could use the expression with such an

intention only because he had before his eyes Mencius and his

ethical theory.

Moreover, Tsuda goes on to remark, Mencius vehemently attacks

and denounces everything incompatible with Confucianism, but

nowhere does he show any conscious endeavour to criticize Lao-tzu

or Tao Tê Ching in spite of the fact that the teaching of the latter is

diametrically opposed to his own doctrine; he does not even men-

tion the name Lao-Tzü. This is irrefutable evidence for the thesis

that the Tao Tê Ching belongs to a period posterior to Mencius.

Since, on the other hand, its doctrines are explicitly criticized by

Hsün-tzü ( c. 315-236 B.C.), it cannot be posterior to the latter.

Thus, in conclusion, Tsuda assigns to the Tao Tê Ching a period

between Mencius and Hsün-tzu.

Although there are some problematic points in Tsuda's argument, he is, I think, on the whole right. In fact, there are a number of passages in the Tao Tê Ching which cannot be properly understood unless we place them against the background of a Confucian philosophy standing already on a very firm basis. 

And this, indeed, is the crux of the whole problem, 

at least for those to whom the thought itself of Lao-tzu is the major concern. 

The very famous opening lines of the Tao Tê Ching, for instance, 

in which the real Way and the real Name are mentioned in sharp contrast to an

ordinary 'way' and ordinary 'names' ,7 do not yield their true meaning except when we realize that 

what is meant by this ordinary 'way' is nothing but the proper ethical way of living as understood and taught by the school of Confucius, and that what is referred to by these ordinary 'names' are but the Confucian 'names', i.e., the highest ethical categories stabilized by means of definite 'names', i.e., key-terms.

The Tao Tê Ching contains, furthermore, a number of words and

phrases that are - seemingly at least - derived from various other

sources, like Mo-tzu, Yang Chu, Shang Yang, and even Chuang-

tzu, Shên Tao, and others.[290]  

And there are some scholars who, basing themselves on this observation, 

go farther than Tsuda and assert that the Tao Tê Ching belongs to a period after Chuang-tzu and Shên Tao. 

 Yang Jung Kuo, a contemporary scholar of Peking, to give one example, takes such a position in his History of Thought in Ancient China. 8

Some of these alleged 'references' to thinkers who have traditionally been considered later than Lao-tzu may very well be explained as due to the influence exercised by the Tao Tê Ching itself upon those thinkers who, in writing their books, may have 'borrowed' ideas and expressions from this book. 

Besides, we have to remember that the text of this book as we have it to-day has

evidently passed through a repeated process of editing, re-editing,

and re-arranging in the Han Dynasty. Many of the 'references' may

simply be later additions and interpolations.

Be this as it may, it has to be admitted that the Tao Tê Ching is a controversial work. And at least it is definitely certain that the formation of its thought presupposes the existence of the Confucian school of thought.

Turning now to another aspect of Lao-tzu, which is more important

for the purposes of the present work than chronology, we may begin

by observing that the Biography of Lao-tzu as given by Ssu Ma

Ch'ien in his Book of History makes Lao-tzu a man of Ch'u. 9 Thus

he writes in one passage, 'Lao-tzu was a native of the village Ch'ü

Jên, in Li Hsiang, in the province of K'u, in the state of Ch'u'. In

another passage he states that according to a different tradition,

there was a man called Lao Lai Tzu in the time of Confucius; that he

was a man of Ch'u, and produced fifteen books in which he talked

about the Way. Ssu Ma Ch'ien adds that this man may have been the

same as Lao-tzu.

All this may very well be a mere legend. And yet it is, in my view,

highly significant that the 'legend' connects the author of the Tao Tê

Ching with the state of Ch'u. This connection of Lao-tzu with the

southern state of Ch'u cannot be a mere coïncidence. For there is

something of the spirit of Ch'u running through the entire book. By

the 'spirit of Ch'u' 1 mean what may properly be called the shamanic

tendency of the mind or shamanic mode of thinking. Ch'u was a

large state lying on the southern periphery of the civilized Middle

Kingdom, a land of wild marches, rivers, forests and mountains, rich

in terms of nature but poor in terms of culture, inhabited by many

people of a non-Chinese origin with variegated, strange customs.

There all kinds of superstitious beliefs in supernatural beings and

spirits were rampant, and shamanic practices thrived. [291]

But this apparently primitive and 'uncivilized' atmosphere could

provide an ideal fostering ground for an extraordinary visionary

power of poetic imagination, as amply attested by the elegies writ-

ten by the greatest shaman-poet the state of Ch'u has ever pro-

duced, Ch'ü Yüan. 10 The same atmosphere could also produce a

very peculiar kind of metaphysical thinking. This is very probable

becausè the shamanic experience of reality is of such a nature that it

can be refined and elaborated into a high level of metaphysical

experience. In any case, the metaphysical depth of Lao-tzu's

thought can, 1 believe, be accounted for to a great extent by relating

it to the shamanic mentality of the ancient Chinese which can be

traced back to the oldest historie times and even beyond, and which

has flourished particularly in the southern part of China throughout

the long history of Chinese culture.

In this respect Henri Maspero11 is,1 think, basically right when he

takes exception to the traditional view that Taoism abruptly started

in the beginning of the fourth century B.C. as a mystical metaphys-

ics with Lao-tzu, was very much developed philosophically by 

Chuang-tzu toward the end of that century and vulgarized to a

considerable degree by Lieh-tzu and thenceforward went on the

way of corruption and degeneration until in the Later Han Dynasty

it was completely transformed into a jumble of superstition, anim-

ism, magic and sorcery. Against such a view, Maspero takes the

position that Taoism was a 'personal' religion - as contrasted with

the agricultural communal type of State religion which has nothing

to do with persona! salvation - going back to immemorial antiquity.

The school of Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu, he main tains, was a particu-

lar branch or se.ction within this wide religious movement, a particu-

lar branch characterized by a marked mystical-philosophical ten-

dency.

These observations would seem to lead us back once again to the

problem of the authorship of Tao Tê Ching and the historicity of

Lao-tzu. Is it at all imaginable that such a metaphysical refinement

of crude mysticism should have been achieved as a result of a

process of natural development, without active participation of

an individual thinker endowed with an unusual philosophical

genius? 1 do not think so. Primitive shamanism in ancient China

would have remained in its original crudity as a phenomenon of

popular religion characterized by ecstatic orgy and frantic 'posses-

sion', if it were not for a tremendous work of elaboration done in the

course of its history by men of unusual genius. Thus, in order to

produce the Elegies of Ch'u the primitive shamanic vision of the

world had to pass through the mind of a Ch'ü Yüan. Likewise, the

same shamanic world-vision could be elevated into the profound

metaphysics of the Way only by an individual philosophical genius.

292 

When we read the Tao Tê Ching with the preceding observation

in mind, we cannot but feel the breath, so to speak, of an extraordi-

nary man pervading the whole volume, the spirit of an unusual

philosopher pulsating throughout the book. With all the possible

later additions and interpolations, which I readily admit, I cannot

agree with the view that the Tao Tê Ching is a work of compilation

consisting of fragments of thought taken from various heterogene-

ous sources. For there is a certain fondamental unity which strikes

us everywhere in the book. And the unity is a persona! one. In fact,

the Tao Tê Ching as a whole is a unique piece of work distinctly

colored by the personality of one unusual man, a shaman-

philosopher. Does he not give us a self-portrait in part XX of the

book?

The multitude of men are blithe and cheerful as though they were

invited to a luxurious banquet, or as though they were going up a high

tower to enjoy the spring scenery.

1 alone remain silent and still, showing no sign of activity. Like a

new-born baby 1 am, that has not yet learnt to smile. Forlorn and

aimless 1 look, as if 1 had no place to return.

All men have more than enough. I alone seem to be vacant and blank.

Mine indeed is the mind of a stupid man! Dull and confused it is! The

vulgar people are all clever and bright, I alone am dark and obtuse.

The vulgar people are all quick and alert, I alone am blunt and tardy.

Like a deep ocean that undulates constantly 1 am, like a wind that

blows never to rest.

All others have some work to do, while 1 alone remain impractical I

and boorish. 1 alone am different from all others because 1 value

being f ed by the Mother .12

Similarly in another passage (LXVII), he says of himself:

Everybody under Heaven says that 11 3 am big, but look stupid. Yea, I

look stupid because I am big. If I were clever 1 would have diminished

long ago.

And again in LXX, we read:

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practise. Yet

no one under Heaven understands them; no one puts them into ·

practice.

My words come out of a profound source, and my actions come out of

a high principle. But people do not understand it. Therefore they do

not understand me.

Those who understand me are rare. That precisely is the proof that 1

am precious. The sage, indeed, wears clothes of coarse cloth, but

carries within precious jade.  

The passages just quoted give a picture of a very original mind, an

image of a man who looks gloomy, stupid and clumsy, standing

aloof from the 'clever' people who spend their time in the petty

pleasures of life. He takes such an attitude because he is conscious

of himself as utterly different from ordinary men. The important

question we have to raise about this is: Whence does this difference

come? The Tao Tê Ching itself and the Chuang-tzu seem to give a

definite answer to this question. The man feels himself different

from others because he is conscious that he alone knows the real

meaning of existence. And this he knows due to his metaphysical

insight which is based on what Chuang-tzu calls tso wang 'sitting in

oblivion', that is, the experience of ecstatic union with the Absolute,

the Way. The man who stands behind the utterances which we have

quoted above is a philosopher-mystic, or a visionary shaman turned

into a philosopher.

It is highly significant for our specific purpose to note that the

spirit of a philosophically developed shamanism pervades the whole

of the Tao Tê Ching. It is, so to speak, a living persona! 'center'

round which are co-ordinated all the basic ideas that we find in the

book, whether the thought concerns the metaphysical structure of

the universe, the nature of man, the art of governing people, or the

practical ideal of life. And such an organic unity cannot be

explained except on the assumption that the book, far from being a

compilation made of fragmentary and disparate pieces of thought

picked up at random from here and there, is in the main the work of

a single author.

In studying a book like the Tao Tê Ching it is more important than

anything else to grasp this persona! unity underlying it as a whole,

and to pinpoint it as the center of co-ordination for all its basic ideas.

For, otherwise, we would not be in a position to penetrate the subtle

structure of the symbolism of the Tao Tê Ching and analyze with

precision the basic ideas of its metaphysics.

Turning from Lao-tzu to Chuang-tzu, we feel ourselves standing on

a far more solid ground. For, although we are no better informed

about his real life and identity, at least we know that we are dealing

with an historical person, who did exist in about the middle of the

fourth century B.C., as a contemporary of Mencius, the great

shaman-poet Ch'ü Yüan of Ch'u to whom reference has been made,

and the brilliant dialectician Hui Shih or Hui-tzu14 with whom he

himself was a good match in the mastery of the art of manipulating

logical concepts.

According to the account given by Ssu Ma Ch'ien in the above-

mentioned Book of History, Chuang-tzu or Chuang Chou15 was a

native of Mêng; 16 he was once an official.at Ch'i-Yüan in Mêng; he

had tremendous erudition, but his doctrine was essentially based on

the teachings of Lao-tzu; and his writing, which counted more than

100,000 words, was for the most part symbolic or allegorical.

It is significant that Mêng, which is mentioned by Ssu Ma Ch'ien

as Chuang-tzu's birthplace, is in present-day Ho Nan and was a

place in the ancient state of Sung.17 1 regard this as significant

because Sung was a country where the descendants of the ancient

Yin 18 people were allowed to live after having been conquered by

the Chou people. 19 There these descendants of the once-illustrious

people, despised by the conquerors as the 'conquered' and con-

stantly threatened and invaded by their neighbors, succeeded in

preserving the religious beliefs and legends of their ancestors. The

significance of this fact with regard to the thesis of the present study

will at once be realized if one but remembers the animistic-

shamanic spirit of Yin culture as manifested in its sacrificial cere-

monies and rites of divination as well as in the myths connected with

this dynasty. The people of Yin were traditionally famous for their

cuit of spirits and worship of the 'God-above'. From of old the

distinction between Yin and Chou was made by such a dictum as:

'Yin worships spirits while Chou places the highest value on human

culture.' 20

Quite independently of the observation of this historical relation

between the Yin Dynasty and the Sung people, Fung Yu Lang in his

History of Chinese Philosophy 21 points out - quite rightly, to my

mind - that the form of Chuang-tzu's thought is close to that of the

Ch'u people. 'We should keep in mind', he writes, 'the fact that the

state of Sung bordered Ch'u, making it quite possible that Chuang-

tzu was influenced on the one hand by Ch'u, and at the same time

was under the influence of the ideas of the Dialecticians. (Hui Shih,

it will be remembered, was a native of Sung.) Thus by using the

dialectics of the latter, he was able to put his soaring thoughts into

order, and formulate a unified philosophical system.'

Of the 'spirit of Ch'u' we have talked in an earlier passage in

connection with the basic structure of Lao-tzu's thought. Fung Yu

Lang compares the Elegies of Ch'u (Ch'u Tz'u) 22 with the Chuang-

tzu and observes a remarkable resemblance between the two in the

display of 'a richness of imagination and freeness of spirit'. But he

neglects to trace this resemblance down to its shamanic origin, so

that the 'richness of imagination and freeness of spirit' is left unex-

plained. However it may be, we shall refrain from going any further

into the details of this problem at this point, for much more will be

said in the following chapter.

The problem of the relationship between Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu

has been discussed at length by philologists. As we have already

observed the major doctrines of Chuang-tzu have traditionally been

regarded as being based upon the teachings of Lao-tzu. On this

view, Lao-tzu of course was a predecessor of Chuang-tzu in Taoist

philosophy; the main lines of thought had been laid down by the

former, and the latter simply took them over from him and

developed them in his own way into a grand-scale allegorical system

according to the dicta tes of his philosophical and literary ability.

This view seems to be a natural conclusion drawn from the observa-

tion of the following two facts: ( 1) the existence of an undeniable

inner connection between the two in the very structure of their

world-view and their mystical way of thinking; (2) Chuang-tzu

himself often mentioning Lao-tzu as one of the earlier Taoist sages,

and the expressions used being in some places almost the same.

The matter, however, is notas simple as it looks at the first glance.

In fact serious questions have been raised in modern times about

this problem. The Tao Tê Ching itself, to begin with, is nowhere

referred to in the Chuang-tzu, although Lao-tzu, as a legendary

figure, appears in its pages, and his ideas are mentioned. But this

latter fact proves almost nothing conclusively, for we know that

many of the persons who are made to play important rôles in the

Chuang-tzu are simply fictitious. Similarities in language may easily

be explained away as the result either of later interpolations in the

Tao Të Ching itself, or as going back to common sources.

Yang Jung Kuo, to whom reference has been made earlier, may

be mentioned as a representative present-day scholar who not only

doubts Lao-tzu's having been a predecessor of Chuang-tzu, but

goes a step further and completely reverses the chronological order.

In an interesting chapter of his above-mentioned book, History of

Thought in Ancient China,23 he decidedly takes the position that

Chuang-tzu was nota disciple of Lao-tzu; that, on the contrary, the

latter - or, to be more exact, the Tao Të Ching - was nothing other

than a continuation and further development of the Chuang-tzü.

And the way he defends his position is strictly philological; he tries

to prove his position through an examination of some of the key-

concepts common to Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu. And he concludes

that the Tao Tê Ching presupposes the prior existence of the

Chuang-tzü. For instance, the most important of ail key-concepts of

Taoism, tao (Wag) as the cosmic principle of natural growth, or

Nature, is in the Chuang-tzü not yet fully developed in its inner

structure. The concept is already there, he says, but it is as yet a

mere beginning. The Tao Tê Ching takes over this concept at this

precise point and elaborates it into an absolute principle, the abso-

lutely unknowable Source, which is pre-eternal24 and from which

emanate all things. 25 And Yang Jung Kuo thinks that this historical

relation between the two - Chuang-tzü being the initial point and

Lao-tzu representing the culmination - is observable throughout

the whole structure of Taoist philosophy.

This argument, highly interesting though it is, is not conclusive.

For the key-concepts in question allow of an equally justifiable

explanation in terms of a process of development running from

Lao-tzu to Chuang-tzu. As regards the metaphysics of tao, for

instance, we have to keep in mind that Lao-tzu gives only the

result, a definitely established monistic system of archetypal ima-

gery whose center is constituted by the absolu te Absolute, tao, which

develops stage after stage by its own 'natural' creative activity down

to the world of multiplicity. This ontology, as I have pointed out

before, is understandable only on the assumption that it stands on

the basis of an ecstatic or mystical experience of Existence. Lao-tzu,

however, does not disclose this experiential aspect of bis world-view

except through vague, symbolic hints and suggestions. This is the

reason why the Tao Tê Ching tends to produce an impression of

being a philosophical elaboration of something which precedes it.

That 'something which precedes it', however, may not necessarily

be something taken over from others.

Chuang-tzu, on the other band, is interested precisely in this

experiential aspect of Taoist mysticism which Lao-tzu leaves

untouched. He is not mainly concerned with constructing a

metaphysics of a cosmic scale ranging from the ultimate Unknow-

able down to the concrete world of variegated colors and forms. His

chief concern is with the peculiar kind of' experience' itself by which

one penetrates the mystery of Existence. He tries to depict in detail,

sometimes allegorically, sometimes theoretically, the very

psychological or spiritual process through which one becomes more

and more 'illumined' and goes on approaching the real structure of

reality hidden behind the veil of sensible experience.

His attitude is, in comparison with Lao-tzu, epistemological,

rather than metaphysical. And this difference separates these two

thinkers most fundamentally, although they share a common inter-

est in the practical effects that corne out of the supra-sensible

experience of the Way. The same difference may also be formulated

in terms of upward movement and downward movement. Lao-tzu

tries to describe metaphysically how the absolute Absolute

develops naturally into One, and how the One develops into Two,

and the Two into Three, and the Three into 'ten thousand things' .26

It is mainly a description of an ontological - or emanational -

movement downward, though he emphasizes also the importance of

the concept of Return, i.e., the returning process of all things back

to their origin. Chuang-tzu is interested in describing epistemologi-

cally the rising movement of the human mind from the world of

multiplicity and diversity up to the ontological plane where all

distinctions become merged into One.

Because of this particular emphasis on the epistemological aspect

of the experience of the tao, Chuang-tzu does not take the trouble of

developing the concept itself of tao as a philosophical system. 

This is

why bis metaphysics of tao appears imperf ect, or imperfectly

developed. This, however, does not necessarily mean that he rep-

resents chronologically an earlier stage than Lao-tzu. For, as we

have just seen, the difference between them may very well be only

the difference of emphasis.

Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P1.Ch17XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

=====

Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part I - Ibn 'Arabi

1 Dream and Reality

II The Absolute in its Absoluteness

III The Self-knowledge of Man

IV Metaphysical Unification and Phenomenal Dispersion

V Metaphysical Perplexity

VI The Shadow of the Absolute

VII The Divine Nam es

VIII Allah and the Lord

IX Ontological Mercy

X The Water of Life

XI The Self-manifestation of the Absolute

XII Permanent Archetypes

XIII Creation

XIV Man as Microcosm

XV The Perfect Man as an Individual

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reftection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

===

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect

Man

Ibn 'Arabi recognizes in the Perfect Man a particular kind of magi-

cal power. This is hardly to be wondered at, because the Perfect

Man, as a 'knower' ('arif), is by definition a man with an unusually

developed spiritual power. His mind naturally shows an extraordi-

nary activity.

This extraordinary power is known as himmah, meaning a con-

centrated spiritual energy. According to Ibn' Arabi, a 'knower' can,

if he likes, affect any abject by merely concentrating all his spiritual

energy upon it; he can even bring into existence a thing which is not

actually existent. In brief, a 'knower' is able to subjugate anything to

his will. He is endowed with the power of taskhir. 1

The word taskhir reminds us of King Salomon. It is widely known

and accepted in Islam that Salomon was in possession of a super-

natural power by which he could dominate Nature and move it at

will. He could, for instance, cause winds to blow in whatever direc-

tion he wished. He is said to have been able to contrai at will

invisible beings.

According to Ibn 'Arabi, however, Salomon did not exercise his

contrai over Nature by his himmah. In this respect, Salomon

occupies a very special place. It was a special favor of God granted

to him in a peculiar way. For, in order to work miracles, he did not

have to have recourse to the particular concentration of mind

known as himmah. He had only to 'command' ( amr). Whatever was

commanded by him to do anything, moved immediately as it was

commanded. This kind of taskhir is, in the judgment of Ibn' Arabi, a

degree higher than the taskhir by himmah, because the former is a

direct working upon the abject.

The taskhïr which was peculiar to Solomon, which made him superior

to others, and which God had given him as (an essential) part of the

kingship never to be given to anybody after him - this taskhïr was

characterized by its being exercised by his 'command'. God says:

'Thus have We subjugated to him (i.e., Solomon) the wind so that it

might blow by his command (XXI, 81) (That which is really

lii1

11

1

11

1

276 Sufism and Taoism

characteristic of Solomon' s case) is not the simple fact that he could

exercise taskhir. For God says concerning ail of us without any

discrimination: 'And We have subjugated to you ail that are in

heaven and in earth' (XXXI, 20). Thus He speaks of having put

under our control winds, stars, and others. But (in our case) the

taskhir occurs not by our command, but by the Command of God. So

you will find by reflection that what was peculiar to Solomon was (not

the taskhïr itself) but in fact that (the taskhïr) could be exercised by

his own command. In order to do that, he did not need any mental

concentration or himmah; ail he had to do was to 'command'.

I mention this point specifically because we ail know that the things of

the world can be affected and influenced by a particular kind

of mental force when the latter happens to be in a heightened state of

concentration. I have witnessed this phenomenon in my own (mysti-

cal) life. Solomon, however, had only to pronounce the word of

command to anything he wanted to control, without there being any

need for himmah and concentration. 2

What kind of thing, then, is this spiritual concentration called him-

mah? It may be most easily understood if we try to conceive it on the

analogy of our ordinary experience of imagination. We can produce

in imagination anything we like, even things that are not existent in

the outside world. Such an imagined abject exists only within our

minds. In a somewhat similar way, a true 'knower' who has attained

to the stage of walayah is able to produce by his concentrated

spiritual power things that are not actually there, with this differ-

ence, however, that he produces the object in the outer world of

reality. This is obviously a kind of 'creation' (khalq). But it should

not be identified or confused with the Divine act of creation.

Anybody can create within his mind by means of his faculty of

imagination things that have no existence except in imagination

itself. This is a matter of common experience. But the 'knower'

creates by himmah things that do have existence outside the place of

the himmah (i.e., outside the mind).

(However, the object thus created by himmah continues to exist)

only as long as the himmah maintains it without being weakened by

the keeping of what it has created. As soon as the concentration

slackens and the mind of the 'knower' becomes distracted from the

keeping of what it has created, the object created disappears. This,

however, does not apply to those special cases in which a 'knower'

has obtained a firm control over ail the Presences ( ontological levels

of Being) so that his mind never loses sight of them ail at the same

time. In fact, the mind of such a man ( even if it loses sight of the

Presences, does not lose sight of ail together); there surely remains at

least one Presence present to his mind. 3

We must recall at this juncture the five Presences of Being to which

reference was made in the first chapter. The Presences are classified

variously. One of the classifications, to give an example of

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 277

classification which is a little different from the one explained in the

first chapter, makes the whole world of Being consist of ( 1) the

Presence of the senses (i.e., the plane of the sensible experience),

(2) the Presence of Images-Exemplars, (3) the Presence of the

Spirits (arwah ), ( 4) the Presence of the Intellects ('uqül), and the

Presence of the Essence. But the way in which the Presences are

classified is not very important in the present context. What is of

primary importance is to know that the world of Being is structured

in terms of levels or planes and that these planes are related to each

other in an organic way. This means that anything that exists in the

plane of sensible experience, for instance, has a corresponding

existence also in the higher planes in a particular form peculiar to

each plane, so that ultimately it goes back to the very Essence of the

Absolute as its ontological ground.

Because of this particular structure of Being, the' knower' can, by

concentrating his entire spiritual energy upon an object on one of

the suprasensible levels, produce the object in a sensible form on

the level of concrete reality. Also by maintaining spiritually the

form of an object on a higher level he can maintain the forms of the

same object on the lower levels of Being.

But this spiritual 'creation' is essentially different from the Divine

Creation in one vital point. When, for example, the 'knower' has

produced by himmah an object in a sensible form, the object thus

'created' on the level of sensible experience continues to subsist on

that level only during the time in which he continues to maintain his

spiritual concentration. The moment his attention becomes less

keen by the effect of drowsiness or by a different idea occurring to

his mind, the object ceases to exist on the level of the senses.

However, Ibn' Arabi adds, in the case of the highest 'knower', his

spiritual power dominating all the basic five planes of Being, there is

always at least one level on which the spiritual concentration is

maintained even if his attention becomes less keen and less intense

on other levels. In such a case, the object 'created' may be preserved

for a long period of time.

By saying this, I have disdosed a secret which the people of God (i.e.,

mystics) have always jealously guarded themselves from revealing

for fear that something might corne to light which would contradict

their daim to the effect that they are the Absolute. (Against this

daim I have disdosed the fact that) the Absolute never becomes

forgetful of anything, white man must necessarily be always forgetful

of this particular thing or that.

Only as long as a man spiritually maintains what he has 'created', is he

in a position to say, 'I am the Creator!' (ana al-f}aqq). However, his

maintaining the 'created' object is entirely different from God's

maintaining. I have just explained the difference.

278 Sufism and Taoism

As long as he becomes forgetful of even one form and its ontological

level, man is to be distinguished from the Absolu te. He is naturally to

be distinguished from the Absolu te even if he main tains all the forms

(of an object on different levels) by maintaining one of the forms on

its proper level of which he happens to be unforgetful, because this is

after alla kind of'implicit' (tacf,ammun) maintaining. God's maintain-

ing what He has created is not like this; He maintains every form

'explicitly' (i.e., He maintains all forms of the thing, each on its

proper level individually).

This is a question which no one, as far as 1 know, has even written in

any book, neither myself nor others. This is the only and the first

book in which (the secret has been disclosed). The present work is in

this sense a unique pearl of the age. Keep this well in mind!

The particular level of Being4 to which the mind of the 'knower' is

kept present, being concentrated on the form (of an object which he

has created on that ontological level), may be compared to the 'Book'

of which God says: 'We have not neglected anything in the Book (of

Decrees)' (VI, 38), so that it comprehends both what has been

actualized and what has not yet been actualized. But what 1 say here

will never be understood except by those who are themselves the

'gathering' principle ( qur' iin). 5

Thus it has been clarified that a man who can gather his himmah in

such a comprehensive way is able to do so because he 'gathers'

together in his consciousness all the levels of Being into a com-

prehensive unity. Such a man stands closest to God, with the only

difference which has just been explained. The difference, in short,

results from the furqan. And precisely because of the furqan he is

essentially distinguished from God.

The important point, however, is that this 'separating' is not an

ordinary furqan. It is the highestfurqan (arfa' furqan) 1 because it is

a furqan after the 'gathering'. In the case of an ordinary man, the

'separating' which he exercises is a pre-fana' phenomenon; he has

not yet had any experience of 'self-annihilation', that is, he has not

yet 'tasted' his essential oneness with the Absolute. The 'separating'

he exercises in such a state is an absolute, unconditional 'separa-

tion'. He is absolutely and unconditionally 'separated' and distin-

guished' from the Absolute.

The 'knower', on the contrary, is a man who has already passed

through the experience of 'self-annihilation' and, consequently,

knows through personal experience his essential oneness with the

Absolu te. He knows it, and yet distinguishes in himself between the

'Divine aspect' (lahüt) and the 'human aspect' (nasüt), i.e., between

the Absolute and the creature. This 'separating' is not a mere

'separating'; it is a 'separating' of a higher order. And this corres-

ponds to what is generally known in Sufi terminology as 'self-

subsistence' (baqa').

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 279

Now, if we consider in the light of this conception the idea of

himmah, we are led to the following understanding of it. The highest

'knower', while he is actually exercising his himmah, is in a certain

sense a 'creator' (khaliq); all the traces of his 'servant-ness' disap-

pear from his consciousness, and he feels 'Lordship' living and

acting in himself. He f eels himself to be a 'Lord', and has the clear

consciousness that everything in the whole world is under his con-

trai. This is the stage of 'gathering' (qur' an). However, this state is

but a temporary and unstable one, because if his mind slackens and

loses its highest intensity of concentration even for a moment, he

becomes immediately conscious of his 'impotence' ('ajz) and is

necessarily faced with his own 'servantness'. And this is the stage of

'separating' (furqan). 8

We must observe also that himmah is, in its practical aspect, a free

disposai of things (taskhir al-ashya'), while in its cognitive aspect it

is an extraordinary power to penetrate the secret of Being which lies

beyond the grasp of Reason. It is significant in this respect that Ibn

'Arabï in a passage of the declares that the true reality

(IJ,aqiqah) of Being can only be known by a 'servant endowed with

himmah'. Himmah consists essentially in that a 'knower' concen-

trates all his spiritual powers upon one single point and projects his

concentrated heart (qalb) toward a certain definite direction. This

act works in two different, but closely related, ways: (1) producing

something or some state of affairs in a place where such a thing or

state of affairs does not sensibly exist, and (2) tearing apart the veil

of Reason and bringing to light the reality lying behind it.

The supernatural power of himmah being as described, the next

question that naturally arises is: Does the 'knower', i.e., the Perfect

Man, work 'miracles' (karamat) as he likes?

According to the usual theory among Sufis, a 'knower' who has

reached the stage of 'saintship' is in a position to perform 'things

that go against the customs' (khawariq-al- 'adat), i.e., 'miracles'.

Such a man is usually represented as a kind of superman who,

projecting his spiritual power to anything and an y body, affects and

changes the abject at will.

Ibn' Arabï does not accept this view. In the Qoran, he argues, 10

we find the Divine words: 'God is He who creates you of weakness'

(XXX, 54). The very root of man's creation is 'weakness' (<J,a'f).

Man is essentially and naturally 'weak' (<J,a'ïf) and 'powerless'

('ajiz). He begins with the weakness of the infant and ends with the

weakness of the old man. Of course, as the Qoran verse itself

admits, 11 the child, as he grows into a man, acquires 'strength'

(quwwah) and becomes conscious of his own strength. But this,

after ail, is a transitory state. Soon he grows old and falls into

11

1

280 Sujism and Taoism

decrepitude. Besides, the 'strength' which he obtains in the inter-

mediary stage is but an 'accidentai strength' (quwwah 'ara<J,iyah).

Moreover, this accidentai strength is not something which he pro-

duces in himself, but is a result of God's 'putting'. In reality, he

shows strength only because he happens to be at that stage a locus of

theophany in which God manifests Himself under the Name

'Powerful' ( qawiy).

What is by essence strong is the Absolute alone; man is strong

only by accident. Ordinary men do not know this. Only the true

'knower' knows that the strength (including himmah) which he feels

in himself is not his own but God's.

And since he is conscious of this, the 'knower' knows also that it is

not right for him to try to exercise at will the power of himmah. Thus

he confides its exercise to the real owner of that power, and puts

himself in the original state of the 'absolute powerlessness' ('ajz

mutfaq).

Someone may say: 'What prevents (the highest 'knower') from exer-

cising his himmah that has a positive power to affect things? Since

such a power does exist even in those mystics who merely follow the

Apostles, the Apostles must be more appropriate to possess it'.

To this 1 will answer: 'You are certainly right. But you do not know

another important point. A true "knowledge" does not allow him-

mah to be freely exercised. And the higher the knowledge, the less

possibility there is for a free exercise of himmah'.

And this for two reasons. One is that such a man fully realizes his

state of 'servant-ness' and that he is always conscious of the original

ground of his own creation (which is the above-mentioned 'weak-

ness'). The other is the oneness of the subject who exercises himmah

and the object upon which it is exercised (for both are essentially and

ultimately the Absolute, nothing else), so that he does not know upon

whom to project his himmah. This prevents him from exercising

himmah. 12

Tuen Ibn' Arabi says 13 that another reason for which the 'knower'

refrains from working 'miracles' in the world is the knowledge

about the absolute determining power of the permanent

archetypes, which we have discussed in detail in an earlier chapter.

Suppose there is in the presence of the 'knower' a man who

disobeys the commands of the Apostle and thereby disobeys God.

Why does the 'knower' not exercise his himmah upon this man so

that he might be brought back to the right road? It is because

everything, every event in the world is in accordance with what has

been eternally determined in the form of an or

archetypes. The 'knower' knows that this ontological determination

can never be changed. In the eyes of a man who has penetrated into

the depth of the structure of Being, everything follows the track

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 281

fixed by the very nature of Being, and nothing can deviate from it. In

the light of this knowledge, even a man disobedient to God is

walking along the God-determined way. And it is not in the power

of an Apostle to bring such a man back to the 'right road', because

the man is already on the 'right road'.

A certain Sufi of the highest rank once said to Mas ter 'Abd al-

Razzâq: Go and ask Master Abü Madyan, after salutations, 'O Abü

Madyan, why is it that nothing is impossible tous, while everything is

impossible to you? And yet here we are, aspiring to your spiritual

stage, while you do not care for our spiritual stage. Why?' 14

In fact, the situation was exactly like that (i.e., Abü Madyan really

showed signs of'powerlessness') in spite of the fact that Abü Madyan

had, beside this state (i.e. the state of 'powerlessness'), the other state

(i.e., that of free disposai of things by means of himmah).

We (i.e., Ibn' Arabi himself) are even more complete as regards the

state of 'weakness' and 'powerlessness'. But ( even though Abü

Madyan did not show so much of 'weakness' as we do) the afore-

mentioned Sufi of the highest rank said to him what he said. (How

much more should we be worthy of such a remark, if the same Sufi

were to criticize us.) In any event, however, Abü Madyan's case

clearly exemplifies that kind of thing (i.e., the showing of 'weakness'

because of a deep knowledge of the truth).15

Ibn 'Arabi goes on to argue that even this state of 'weakness' or

refraining from exercising himmah should not properly be taken as

a willful act on the part of the 'knower'. The true 'knower' puts

himself entirely in the hands of God; if He commands him to

exercise his himmah he does, if He forbids him to do so he refrains

from it, and if God Himself gives him a choice between the two he

chooses refraining from the exercise of himmah.

Abu al-Su'üd (Ibn al-Shibl) once said to his followers: Verily God

gave me the power of the free disposai of things fifteen years ago. But

I have refrained from exercising that power for the sake of courtesy

(tazarrufan) toward God.

This saying implies too much bold familiarity ( toward God). I myself

do not refrain from exercising himmah for the sake of courtesy,

because such an attitude would imply a willful choice on my part. No.

I refrain from it because of the perfection of knowledge. The true

knowledge of the matter does not require refraining from the exer-

cise of himmah by way of willful choice. Whenever a 'knower' does

exercise his himmah in this world, he does soin obedience to a Divine

Command; that is to say, he does so because he is constrained to do

so, not by way of willful choice. 16

The position of an Apostle regarding this problem of 'refraining' is

somewhat more delicate than that of a Saint.17 Properly speaking

the fonction itself of' apostleship' requires his exercising himmah in

282 Sufism and Taoism

order that his being an Apostle be made clear to the people. For

only when he is accepted as such by the community, is he able to

spread the true religion of God. The Saint perse has nothing to do

with such a mission.

And yet, even the Apostle (Mul)ammad) did not try to show

prophetic 'miracles' (mu'jizat). For one thing, he refrained from

exercising his himmah because of his compassion for the people. He

did not go to extremes in ma nif esting the conclusive evidence of his

'apostleship' because it would have brought destruction to them. He

spared them by not showing them too strong evidences of his

'apostleship'. Besides this, Mul)ammad had another reason shared

by all true Saints for refraining from working miracles; namely, his

knowledge that a 'miracle' can never change the eternally fixed

course of events. Whether a man becomes a Muslim or not is

determined by his archetype; it is not something which can easily be·

changed by the Apostle accomplishing before his eyes a 'miracle'.

Thus even the most perfect of all Apostles (akmal al-rusul),

Mul)ammad, did not exercise himmah. There was actually a practi-

cal need for showing 'miracles', and he was unquestionably

endowed with such a power. And yet he did not exercise his spiritual

power in that way. For, being the highest 'knower', he knew better

than anybody else that 'miracles' were, in truth, .ineffective.

The most ideal state of the Perfect Man is a spiritual tranquility and

quietude of an unfathomable depth. He is a quiet man content with

a passivity in which he confides himself and every thing else to God's

disposai. The Perfect Man is a man who, having in himself a tre-

mendous spiritual power and being adorned with the highest know-

ledge of Being, gives the impression of a deep cairn ocean. He is

such because he is the most perf ect image, in a concrete individual

form, of the cosmic Perfect Man who comprehends and actualizes

all the Names and Attributes of the Absolute.

Notes

1. Taskhir literally means 'forcing somebody to compulsory service, controlling

something at will'. In discussing the problem of the 'compulsory' force of the

permanent archetypes we have already corne across the word taskhir in the form of a

'mutual taskhir' between the Absolute and the world.

2. Fu.!i., p. 199/158.

3. Fu$., p. 90/88-89.

4. Again Ibn' Arabï goes back to the case in which the' knower' main tains spiritually

all the forms of an object on all the levels of Being by actually concentrating on one of

the levels.

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 283

5. Fu.!i ., p. 91189-90.

6. On the difference between 'gathering' (qur'àn) and 'separating' (fu.rqàn) see

above, Chapter II.

7. Fu.!i., p. 91190.

8. Cf. Fu.!i., p. 92/90.

9. Fu.!i., p. 148/121.

10. Fu.!i., p. 156/127.

11. The verse reads: 'God is He who creates you of weakness, then puts (ja'ala) after

weakness strength (quwwah), then again puts weakness after strength.'

12. Fu.!i., p. 157/127-128.

13. Fu.!i., pp. 157-158/128.

14. It means: We can freely accomplish 'miracles', but you apparently cannot. And

yet we want to attain to your spiritual stage, while you do not show any sign of being

desirous of attaining to our spiritual stage.

15. Fu.!i., p. 158/129.

16. Fu.!i., p. 159/129-130.

17. ibid.

Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P1.Ch16XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

=====

Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part I - Ibn 'Arabi

1 Dream and Reality

II The Absolute in its Absoluteness

III The Self-knowledge of Man

IV Metaphysical Unification and Phenomenal Dispersion

V Metaphysical Perplexity

VI The Shadow of the Absolute

VII The Divine Nam es

VIII Allah and the Lord

IX Ontological Mercy

X The Water of Life

XI The Self-manifestation of the Absolute

XII Permanent Archetypes

XIII Creation

XIV Man as Microcosm

XV The Perfect Man as an Individual

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reftection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

===

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

The preceding chapter has revealed that the moment we begin to

consider Man on the individual level, we are faced with the exist-

ence of several degrees among men. We have seen also that the

highest of ail human degrees is 'saintship' ( waliiyah). The Saint

( waliy) is the highest 'knower' of God, and consequently (in terms

of the world-view of Ibn' Arabï) of the essential structure of Being.

Otherwise expressed, the Saint is the Perfect Man par excellence.

The central topic of this chapter will be the concept of 'saintship' .1

We may begin by remarking that, in Ibn' Arabï's understanding, the

concept of Saint comprises both Prophet (nabiy) and Apostle

(rasül). Briefly stated, the Saint is the widest concept comprising

Prophet and Apostle; next is the concept of Prophet which com-

prises that of Apostle; and the Apostle is the narrowest of ail. As

al-Qâshânï says, 'every Apostle is a Prophet, and every Prophet is a

Saint', but not vice versa.

On the relation between the three concepts, there is a consider-

ably long passage in the Fu$Ü$ 2 in which Ibn 'Arabï develops his

thought. The argument is very entangled and somewhat confusing,

but the gist of it may be clarified in the following way.

The first point to note concerning the concept of Saint is that

waliy is properly a Divine Name. The fact that waliy is one of the

Names of God implies that it is an aspect of the Absolute. In this

respect, the Saint is radically different from the Prophet and the

Apostle because the words nabiy and rasül are not Divine Names;

they are peculiar to human beings. 'Waliy is a Name of God', as Ibn

'Arabi says, 'but God has neither called Himself nabiy nor rasül,

while He has named Himself waliy and has made it one of His own

Names' .3

Thus waliy is a Divine Name. But even a man, when his know-

ledge of God attains to its highest point, becomes entitled to be

called by the same name; he is a waliy. However, the human waliy

himself, being so keenly conscious of his 'servant-ness' ('ubüd-

ïyah) does not like to make the name publicly his own. For he knows

1111

1 !'

111

1

264 Sufem and Taoism

that the word waliy properly belongs to God alone, and that when a

human being becomes a waliy he is supposed to have transcended

his position of 'servant-ness' and have put himself in the position of

Lordship (rubübïyah ). But, whether he likes it or not, it does

sometimes happen that a mystic transcends his position of

'servant-ness'. This occurs by a mystic being completely drowned in

the Absolute and losing the consciousness of his own

'servant-ness' .4

lt is to be remarked that, since waliy is a name common to God

and Man, the walayah never ceases to exist. As God exists everlast-

ingly, the 'saintship' will exist forever. As long as there remains in

the world even a single man of the highest spiritual power who

attains to the rank of 'saintship' - and, in fact, such a man will

certainly exist in every age -the 'saintship' itself will be kept intact.

In contrast to this, the prophethood and apostleship are histori-

cally conditioned, and can, therefore, be intermittent or even disap-

pear completely. 5 As a matter of fact, we know that the chain of

prophethood has historically corne to an end at Mu])ammad, the last

of all authentic Prophets. After Mu])ammad, there does not exist

any longer a Prophet, who is at the same time a Law-giver

(musharri'). After Mu])ammad we have only what Ibn' Arabi calls

'general prophethood' (nubuwwah 'ammah ), i.e., prophethood

without institution of Law, which is nothing other than 'saintship'.

Only this name (i.e., waliy) remains forever among mankind, not

only in the present world but also in the Hereafter. As for the names

which are peculiar to Man to the exclusion of God (i.e., Prophet and

Apostle), they cease to exist with the cessation of prophethood and

apostleship. God, however, has shown special mercy upon his ser-

vants and has allowed to subsist among them 'general prophethood'

which is not accompanied by institution of Law. 6

This passage makes it clear that, in the conception of Ibn 'Arabi,

institution of Law (tashri') constitutes one of the characteristics of

the Prophet. From this particular point of view, he divides the

Prophets into two kinds: (1) those who institute Law (nabiy

musharri') and (2) those whose prophetic activity is done within a

given Law (nabiy musharra' la-hu). The first category is represented

by men like Moses, Jesus, and Mu])ammad, each one of whom

instituted a particular Law by a Divine Command. The second

category is exemplified by those who, like the successive Prophets in

Israel, live and fulfil their prophetic mission within the boundaries

of a given Law instituted by Moses.

Since, as we have seen, the Saint is the widest concept in terms of

extension and is the most basic one at that, there can be no Prophet,

no Apostle unless the' saintship' is first established. The Prophet is a

""'

Apostle, Prophet, and Saint 265

Saint who adds to his 'saintship' one more distinguishing mark;

namely, a particular knowledge of things unknown and unseen.

And the Apostle is a Saint who adds to his 'saintship' and 'prophet-

hood' one more characteristic; namely being conscious of the mis-

sion and capacity of conveying Divine messages to the people who

follow him.

From this we leam that the first requirement for a man to be a

Perfect Man is to be in the rank of a waliy, and that waliiyah is the

mostfundamental and most general attribute of all types of Perfect

Man. What, then, does walayah mean?

Waliiyah implies, first and foremost, a perfect knowledge of the

ultimate truth conceming the Absolute, the world, and the relation

between the Absolute and the world. 7 A man who has attained to

the rank of 'saintship' has a clear consciousness that he is a self-

manifestation of the Absolute, and that, as such, he is essentially

one with the Absolute, and, indeed, ultimately is the Absolute itself.

He is also conscious of the fact that, on the analogy of the inner

structure of himself, all the phenomenal Many are self-

manifestations of the Absolute and are, in the sense, one with the

Absolute. This precisely is the consciousness of the ultimate and

essential 'oneness of Being' (wa}Jdah al-wujüd).

This consciousness of the 'oneness of Being' he obtains only by

being 'annihilated' and completely immersed in the Absolute.

Through the experience of'self-annihilation' he transforms himself,

so to speak, into the 'inside' of the Absolute, and from there sees the

reality of all things by 'immediate tasting'. The concept of 'self-

annihilation' (fana') in this sense plays an exceedingly important

role in the theory of waliiyah. The 'self-annihilation' is, in fact, the

first item in the essential attributes of the Saint.

Ibn 'Arabi distinguishes three stages in 'self-annihilation' .8 The

first is the annihilation of the attributes. This stage is called by Ibn

'Arabi takhalluq. lt means that the mystic has all his human attri-

butes 'annihilated' and in their place 'assumes as his own' (takhal-

luq) the Divine Attributes. lt is, as Bali Efendi tersely describes it,9

'annihilating his attributes in the Attributes of the Absolute'. The

second stage is called tal)aqquq. It means that the mystic has his

essence (dhat) 'annihilated' and realizes (tal)aqquq) in himself his

being one with the Absolute. Bali Efendi 10 describes it as 'annihilat-

ing his essence in the Essence of the Absolute'. The third and the

last stage is called ta'alluq. The word ta'alluq, meaning literally 'firm

adherence', indicates that the man in this state remains firmly

attached to the essential property of walâyah so that he is never

separated from it no matter what he may do in the world of empiri-

cal existence. The state of ta'alluq corresponds to what is more

266 Sufism and Taoism

usually known as the state of 'self-subsistence' (baqâ') which cornes

after the state of fanâ'. In this spiritual state, the mystic regains his

self which he has once annihilated, but he regains it not in himself

but in the very midst of the Divine Essence. In his fully illumined

consciousness, there is no longer any trace of his old persona! ego.

He is only conscious that after having lost his life he now subsists in

the Divine Essence, and that, therefore, it is, in reality, not he who

exists but the Absolute itself. Whatever he does, it is not he but God

who does it. Bali Efendi describes it as 'annihilating his actions in

the actions of the Absolu te'. 11

'Saintship' cornes into existence only on the basis of the experi-

ence of 'self-annihilation' here depicted. And wide indeed is the

consciousness of the Saint who has passed through such an experi-

ence. For he witnesses the astonishing scene of all things merging

into the limitless ocean of Divine Life, and he is conscious that all

this is actually taking place in himself. At the very height of this

spiritual state, the consciousness of the Saint is identical with the

Divine Consciousness which has not yet begun to become split into

an infinity of 'determillations' (ta'ayynnât). 12 Such a man is the

highest 'knower'. And such a man naturally falls into deep silence

(suküt), 13 because the content of the deepest knowledge is ineffable.

Such is the existential ground on which stands 'saintship'. And on

this basis stands 'prophethood' with an additional property, and on

'prophethood' stands 'apostleship' with a further addition. The

Prophet and the Apostle are closely tied to the present world; their

fonctions concern the life in this world, for institution of Law always

aims at regulating the worldly life with a view to letting people

obtain the everlasting happiness in the next world. 'Saintship', on

the contrary, has no such essential relation to the present world.

Thus 'prophethood' and 'apostleship' can disappear from their

subjects, but the quality or title of 'saintship' never leaves its sub-

ject. Those from whom the titles of 'prophethood' and 'apostleship'

disappear become immediately Saints without any qualifications.

And sin ce, in the Hereafter, there can be no institution of Law,

everybody who is in the present world a Prophet or Apostle will

continue to exist in the next world in the rank of 'saintship' .14

As we have just remarked, the Prophet is a Saint with the addition

of a different qualification (i.e., the rank of 'saintship' plus the rank

of 'prophethood'), and the Apostle is a Prophet with the addition of

a further qualification (i.e., the rank of 'saintship' plus the rank of

'prophethood' plus the rank of 'apostleship'). So the Prophet uni tes

in one person two ranks, and the Apostle unîtes in himself three

different ranks. There are thus three different ranks recognized:

'saintship', 'prophethood' and 'apostleship'. The question is natur-

i •.

Apostle, Prophet, and Saint 267

ally raised as to which of them·is higher than which. With regard to

this question, the most problematic point, according to Ibn 'Arabï,

concerns the position of 'saintship'. Against those sufis who regard

'saintship' qua 'saintship' as higher than 'prophethood' and

'apostleship', he emphatically states that it is only when these two or

three ranks co-exist in one person that we can rightly regard his

'saintship' as higher than his 'prophethood' and 'apostleship'.

(When one and the same person unites in him these two or three

qualifications) the man in the capacity of a 'knower' or Saint is more

complete and more perfect than himself in the capacity of an Apostle

or in that of a man who has instituted a Divine Law (i.e., Prophet).

So whenever you hear a man belonging to the 'people of God' saying

- or whenever such a saying is conveyed to you through somebody

else - that 'saintship' is higher than 'prophethood', you must under-

stand him to mean what 1 have just remarked.

Likewise, when such a man declares that the Saint stands above the

Prophet and the Apostle, he is simply talking about one and the same

person. In fact, the Apostle qua Saint is more complete (and perfect)

than himself qua Prophet and Apostle. It is not the case, however,

that a Saint (i.e., a different person who happens to be a Saint) who

follows ( another person who happens to be a Prophet or Apostle in

the community) is higher than the Prophet or Apostle. 15

The last sentence of this passage points out the fact that in case the

three qualifications (Saint, Prophet, and Apostle) do not concern

one and the same person but three different persons, there is a

respect in which the Saint must necessarily follow and be subordi-

nate to the Prophet or Apostle. And this because the Apostle

possesses a knowledge of the particular Law (i.e., 'exterior know-

ledge' 'ilm zàhir) with which he has been sent to his community,

while the Saint has no such knowledge. In what concerns the regula-

tions of the Law, the latter must follow the Apostle of his age.

But there is also a certain respect in which the Saint is superior to

the Apostle. For the Saint not only possesses a complete knowledge

about God and the reality of things ('interior knowledge', 'ilm

bàtin) but also is conscious of the fact that he has that knowledge.

But neither the Apostle nor the Prophet is conscious of it, although

they, too, do possess the same knowledge.

From the fact that 'apostleship' is based on three different con-

stituents there naturally follows that there are differences among

the Apostles regarding their degrees. This is the conception of the

'difference in degrees among the Apostles' (tafâ<J,ul al-rusul).

All Apostles, in terms of their 'saintship', are equal and stand on

the same level, but in actuality they must necessarily differ one from

the other because of their intimate relations with the concrete

11111

1

268 Sufism and Taoism

situations of the age and country in which they live. And the same is

true of the Prophet. The nature and rank of an Apostle is decisively

affected by the conditions, material and spiritual, determining the

situation of the nation of which he happens to be the Apostle.

Likewise, the rank of a Prophet is gravely affected by the amount of

knowledge he actually has.

Know that the Apostles qua Apostles - not qua Saints or 'knowers' -

stand in different degrees, each according to the state of his commun-

ity. For the a mou nt of his knowledge concerning his own apostolic

mission is exactly measured to what his community needs, no more,

no less. And since communities differ from each other in terms

of relative superiority, the Apostles also are higher and lower in

terms of the knowledge of their mission in exact accordance with the

difference that exists among the nations. And to this refers the saying

of God: 'Those Apostles, We have made some of them superior to

others'. (II, 253)

Likewise, (the Prophets) diff er in rank among themselves in accor-

dance with their individual capacities with regard to their persona!

knowledges and judgments. 'And to this refers the saying of God:

And We have made some of the Prophets superior to others'. (XVII,

55)16

In the preceding chapter we have seen that the Perfect Man on the

cosmic level is the 'vicegerent' of God. The same is true also of the

Perfect Man on the individual level. Here on the level of individual

persans, the idea of the Perfect Man is embodied by Saint, Prophet,

and Apostle. These three are the 'vicegerents' (khulafa') of God

because they are the most perfect and most complete loci of

theophany on the earth. 11 They are concrete manifestations of the

'Reality of Mub.ammad' (al-}Jaqiqah al-mu}Jammadiyah) which we

have discussed in the previous chapter. 18

The term khalifah meaning 'vicegerent' is a little ambiguous,

because we ordinarily use it to designate the political head of the

Muslim community, the Caliph. 19 In view of this fact, Ibn 'Arabï

strictly distinguishes between two kinds of khalifah: (1) the 'vice-

gerent of God' (khalifah Allah, or khalifah 'an Allah) and (2) the

'vicegerent (or successor) of the Apostle' (khalifah al-rasül, or

khalifah 'an al-rasül). The 'vicegerent' in the sense of the Perfect

Man (1) is totally different from the Caliph, the historical and

political head of the Muslim community, who assumes the same

name khalifah (2).

God has His 'vicegerents' on the earth; they are the Apostles. As for

the Caliphs we know today, they are ('vicegerents' or 'successors') of

the Apostles, not of God, because a Caliph governs (the community)

strictly according to the dicta tes of the Law of an apostolic origin, and

never goes beyond it. 20

Apostle, Prophet, and Saint 269

There are, however, exceptional cases in which a Caliph, i.e., a

'vicegerent' succeeding the Apostle, is in touch with the very source

from which the latter has drawn his knowledge, and govems the

community according to the inner Law which he receives direct

from God. Such a man is outwardly a khalifah of the Apostle, but

inwardly is a khalifah of God.

Su ch a man is outwardly a follower (muttabi', namely, of the Apostle)

in the sense that he conforms himself (to the Law) in governing the

community: Jesus, for example, when he will corne down to the earth

and govern the world. 21 Another example is the Prophet Mul)am-

mad. And to this refers the saying of God: 'These are the men whom

God has given guidance. So follow their guidance' (VI, 90). A man of

this sort is, in virtue of the way in which he derives (his knowledge)

and of which he is conscious, both 'specially privileged'

and 'conforming' (muwafiq). 22 In this respect he is somewhat in the

same position as the Prophet (Mul)ammad) who, confirming as he did

the Law of the Apostles who had preceded him, confirmed it in his

own name, so that we, his followers, actually follow him (accepting

the Law) as his own, and not as a Law established by some of his

predecessors. In like manner, the 'vicegerent of God' obtains (his

knowledge) from exactly the sa me source as the Apostle.

Such a man is called, in mystic terminology, 'the vicegerent of God',

but, in ordinary (non-mystic) terminology, 'the vicegerent of the

Apostle of God'.

This is the reason why the Apostle of God (Mul)ammad) died with-

out explicitly designating anyone as his khalïfah. He acted in this way

because he knew that among the believers there would appear some-

one who would receive 'vicegerency' directly from his Lord and

thereby become a 'vicegerent of God', while conforming himself

perfectly to the given Law ( established by the Apostle).

One of the key-terms of Ibn 'Arabï' s theory of walayah is the' Seal'

(khatam), meaning the ultimate and final unit of a series. 1 should

like to close this chapter by a brief consideration of this concept,

although the problems it raises mostly go far beyond the scope of

the present book which aims at elucidating the ontological structure of

Ibn' Arabï's world-view.

The term khàtam appears in two phrases: ( 1) the Seal of the

Prophets (khàtam al-anbiyà') or Seal of the Apostles (khàtam al-

rusul), and (2) the Seal of the Saints (khàtam al-awliyà'). In conformity

with the commonly-accepted usage in Islam, the first phrase 'Seal of

the Prophets' designates the Prophet Mub.ammad himself. The phrase

in itself has nothing original aboutit; it is an expression often used in

accordance with the common belief in Islam that the Prophet

Mub.ammad represents historically the last ring of a long chain of

Prophets, there being absolutely no possibility of an authentic Prophet

appearing after him.

270 Sufism and Taoism

By the second phrase: 'the seal of the Saints', which is naturally more

problematic, Ibn 'Arabi means most probably himself, at least as long

as the present world lasts,23 although he does not say so explicitly in the

As Affifi points out,24 Ibn 'Arabi, besides hinting at the idea in

man y places of his writings by ambiguous expressions as, for example,

'the Seal of the Mul)ammadan saintship ( waliiyah mulJ,ammadiyah) is a

man of noble Arab birth, living in our own time' etc., declares in one

passage of the FutulJ,iit al-Makkiyyah: '1 am the Seal of the saintship, no

doubt, (the Seal of) the heritage of the Hashimite (Mul)ammad) and

the Messiah'.

But whether or not Ibn' Arabï really means by the Seal himself,

the problem is merely of a peripheral significance to us. For the

specific purposes of the present work, what is important is the

concept of Seal itself.

The problem turns round the ultimate source of the highest know-

ledge peculiar to the class of the highest 'knowers'.

This (highest) knowledge properly belongs only to the Seal of the

Apostles and the Seal of the Saints. No one of the Prophets and

Apostles obtains this knowledge except from the sacred niche of the

Last Apostle,25 and no one of the Saints obtains it except from the

niche of the Last Saint. 26

The last sentence might suggest the wrong idea that Ibn 'Arabï is

speaking here of two different 'niches'. In truth, however, there is

only one ultimate 'niche' from which ail obtain the highest know-

ledge. For, as al-Qâshânï says,27 if ail the Apostles obtain it from the

Seal of the Apostles, the latter obtains it from his own innermost

'niche', in the very capacity of the Seal of the Saints,28 so that all the

Apostles and the Saints ultimately obtain their Light from the Seal

of the Saints.

As to the relative superiority between the Seal of the Apostles

and the Seal of the Saints, Ibn' Arabi gives his view as follows: 29

It is true that the Seal of the Saints follows externally what the Seal of

the Apostles has established, namely, the Sacred Law. This, how-

ever, does not minimize in any way the spiritual rank of the Seal of

the Saints. Nor does this contradict what I have said above ( concern-

ing ail Apostles obtaining their esoteric knowledge from the 'niche'

of the Seal of the Saints). For (it simply means that) the Seal of the

Saints is in a certain respect lower in rank (than the Seal of the

Apostles) but is higher in another respect.

This interpretation is confirmed by what actually took place in our

religion, namely, by the fact, (for instance) that 'Umar proved to be

superior (to Mul)ammad) in his decision about the right treatment of

the prisoners of Badr and also regarding the fertilization of the

date-palm. A 'perfect' man need not be superior to others in every

Apostle, Prophet, and Saint 271

matter and in every respect. What the (spiritual persans) consider

important is superiority in terms of knowledge about God. That only

is the central point. As for worldly affairs, they are of no importance

at all in the minds (of spiritual persons).

In connection with the problem of the relation between the Seal

of the Saints and the Seal of the Apostles, Ibn 'Arabï refers to a

famous Tradition in which Mul;lammad compares himself to the one

last brick that finishes and completes an entire wall. Then he corre-

lates this Tradition with a vision he had at Mecca in the year 599

A.H.

In this vision Ibn' Arabï saw the Ka' bah, the House of God. The

Ka' bah was built of gold and silver brick ('sil ver brick' being a

symbol of the Prophet, and 'gold brick' of the Saint). The wall of the

Ka' bah as he saw it still lacked two final pieces of brick, one gold and

another silver. Ibn 'Arabï, in the dream, keenly felt that the two

missing bricks were no other than himself. And the construction of

the Ka'bah was brought to completion when he filled the place of

these two bricks.

The Prophet (Mul)ammad) once compared the 'prophethood' to a

wall made of brick which was complete except in one place which was

to be filled by a piece of brick. Mul)ammad himself was that brick.

The important point is that he saw, as he says (in this Tradition), only

one single piece of brick still missing.

As for the Seal of the Saints, he would surely have visions of a similar

nature; he would surely see what the Prophet symbolized by a wall.

(The only difference would, however, be that) he would see in the

wall two bricks still missing, the entire wall being built of gold and

silver bricks. And he would notice that the two bricks that were

lacking in the wall were one gold and the other sil ver. Further, he

would surely see in the vision himself just fit to be put into the place of

these two bricks. Thus he would see that what was meant by the two

bricks completing the wall was no other than the Seal of the Saints.

The reason why he must necessarily see himself as two bricks is as

follows. He is, externally, a follower of the Law established by the

Seal of the Apostles. This fact was (symbolized in the vision by) the

place for the silver brick. But this is only the 'external' side of the Seal

of the Saints, concerning as it does only the legal regulations about

which he simply follows the Seal of the Apostles. But, on the other

hand, in his innermost heart, he obtains directly from God that very

thing in which externally he is a simple follower (of the Seal of the

Apostles).

All this because he sees the state of affairs as it really is. So he cannot

but see the matter in this way. And in this capacity he corresponds,

internally, to the place for the gold brick, for he obtains his know-

ledge from the same source from which the angel (Gabriel) obtains

that which he conveys to the Apostle.

272 Sufism and Taoism

If you have understood what 1 have here indicated metaphorically

you have obtained an extremely valuable knowledge about everything.

Thus every Prophet, (in the long historical chain of 'prophethood')

beginning with Adam and ending with the last Prophet, invariably

obtained his (prophetic Light) from the 'niche' of the Sea! of the

Prophets, although the corporeal existence of the latter was posterior

to others. This because MuJ:rnmmad, in his Reality ,30 was existent

(from eternity). To this refer his words (in a Tradition): 'I was a

Prophet even while Adam was still between water and clay' .31

On the implication of this passage al-Qâshâni makes an interesting

remark. 32 Ibn 'Arabi' s description might be taken to imply the

superiority of the Seal of the Saints to the Prophet Mubammad,

because the position of the latter is symbolized only by one brick,

whereas that of the Seal of the Saints is symbolized by two bricks,

one of silver as the sign of his 'external' subordination to Mubam-

mad, and the other of brilliant gold as the sign of his own Light.

Against this understanding al-Qâshâni warns the reader and points

out that, according to the Tradition in question, the Ka'bah had

lacked one single piece of brick, and that when Mubammad filled

the place the building was completed. This means, he says, that

Mubammad was de facto the Seal of the Saints. Except that

Mubammad himself appeared only as a Prophet-Apostle, and did

what he did only in that capacity, not in the capacity of a Saint. He

did not, in other words, manifest the form of waliiyah.

The vision which Ibn 'Arabi saw in Mecca was formed in the

world of Imagination on the basis of this historical fact. Mubammad

was de facto the Seal of the Saints, but since he did not manifest

himself as such, there still remained the necessity for another persan

to appear as a historical phenomenon in the capacity of the Seal of

the Saints. Otherwise expressed, the 'saintships', with Mubammad,

remained to the last 'interior'. This 'interior', i.e., hidden, 'saintship'

has corne to light only with the appearance of the Seal of the Saints.

Regarding the difference between the Seal of the Saints and the

rest of the Saints, Ibn' Arabi remarks that in the former the 'saint-

ship' is something essential while in the latter it is something that

must be 'acquired' first. And this is the reason why ( according to

al-Qâshâni) 33 the 'saintship' of the former is called 'solar saintship'

(waliiyah shamsiyah) while that of the latter is called 'lunar saint-

ship' ( waliiyah qamariyah).

Notes

1. In this book I use provisionally the words 'saint' and 'saintship' as the English

equivalents of waliy and walâyah respectively. Whether the meaning of the Arabie

word waliy is covered by the English word 'saint' is another question.

Apostle, Prophet, and Saint 273

2. Fu$., pp. 160-169/135-136.

3. Fu$., p. 168/135. See for example the Qoran (II, 257) where we read: 'God is the

waliy (close, protecting Friend) of those who believe'.

4. Fu$., p. 167/135.

5. Cf. also FU$., p. 34/62.

6. FU$., p. 167/135.

7. The concrete content of such a knowledge is precisely what we have analytically

discussed throughout the preceding pages.

8. FU$., pp. 168-169/136.

9. p. 168.

10. ibid.

11. p. 169.

12. FU$., p. 89/88.

13. FU$., p. 34/62.

14. FuL p. 169/136.

15. Fu$., p. 168/135-136.

16. Fu$., p. 162/132.

17. Fu$., p.259/207.

18. Cf. Chapter XIV, (IV).

19. The English word Caliph is itself nothing but an Anglicized form of khalïfah.

20. Fu$., p. 204/162-163.

21. The reference is to the eschatological figure of Jesus. According to the Muslim

belief, Jesus will descend from Heaven once again at the end of the present world,

and will govern the world by the Sacred Law of Islam. In that state, Jesus will be

formally a 'vicegerent' of Mul)ammad, while deriving his knowledge from the same

source from which Mul)ammad received his Law. Jesus will be, in that state, the Seal

of the Saints.

22. 'Specially privileged', because he is conscious of the fact that he has received

directly from Godan inner Law by which he governs the community, but 'conform-

ing', at the same time, because outwardly he owes his Law to his predecessors.

23. 1 say 'at least as long as the present world lasts' because, as we saw above (cf.

note 21), at the very end of the present world, in the eschatological situation, Jesus

will corne down to the earth and assume the function of the Seal of the Saints. This

latter is called the 'general saintship' (walâyah 'âmmah) as distinguished from the

274 Suftsm and Taoism

'Mul)ammadan saintship' (waliiyah mulJ,ammadïyah). Regarding this distinction, see

the relevant passages quoted from the Futû/:tiit by Dr Osman Yahya in his edition of

al-Tirmidhï: Khatm al-Awliyii, Beyrouth, 1965, p. 161, Footnote 53.

24. Philosophy, pp. 100-101.

25. 'Niche' (miskhiit) symbolizes the Divine Light in the deepest core of the saintly

heart; the Divine Light is nothing other than the 'Reality of Mul)ammad'.

26. p. 34/62.

27. p. 34.

28. We have observed above that by the 'Sea! of the Saints' Ibn 'Arabi means

himself. But here al-Qâshâni seems to be saying that the Sea! of the Apostles, i.e.,

Mul)ammad, was also the Sea! of the Saints. This, however, is nota contradiction. As

we noticed before in discussing the 'Reality of Mul)ammad', in the consciousness of

Ibn 'Arabi, 'Mul)ammad' is not only a historical individual person but a cosmic

principle of creation, and the two aspects seem to be constantly present in bis mind

when he speaks about 'Mul)ammad'.

29. pp. 34-35/62-63.

30. Reference to the above-mentioned 'Reality of Mul)ammad'.

31. p. 35/63.

32. p. 36.

33. ibid.