Binyamin Abrahamov
Contents
Title page
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Preface
Introduction
THE EARLIER SUFIS
- Al-Muḥāsibī
- Dhū al-Nūn al-Miṣrī
- Abū Yazīd al-Bisṭāmī
- Sahl al-Tustarī
- Abū Saʿīd al-Kharrāz
- Al-Junayd
- Al-Ḥakīm al-Tirmidhī
- Al-Ḥusayn ibn Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj
- Ibn Masarra
- Abū Bakr al-Shiblī
- Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī
THE LATER SUFIS
- Al-Ghazālī
- Ibn Barrajān
- Ibn al-ʿArīf al-Ṣanhājī
- Ibn Qasī
- Abd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī
- Abū Madyan
- Abū al-ʿAbbās al-ʿUraybī
Conclusion
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Bibliography
Copyright and publishing information
Also available from Anqa Publishing
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Introduction
Every scholar of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s thought has been impressed by the wealth of his mystical and philosophical ideas, parables and poems. From the earliest research on Ibn al-ʿArabī’s thought, scholars have tried to trace his sources and to evaluate his originality.1
This is an extremely difficult task not only due to the huge quantity of his writings,2 but also with regards to the complexity of his theories. An analysis of the Greatest Master’s attitude toward the Sufis, both his predecessors and contemporaries, has not yet been accomplished, except for William Chittick’s discussion of three mystics.3 Such a work is needed to enhance our knowledge of the foundations of his thought and answer, at least as an initial step, the question of the measure of his originality.
The present volume examines Ibn al-ʿArabī’s attitude toward the Sufis and assesses the extent of their influence on him. A crucial
point is Ibn al-ʿArabī’s general acceptance or rejection of the Sufis’ views and practices. We do not pretend to be exhaustive, because
the basis of our research is mainly al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam and some of the author’s epistles. We believe that
these writings are representative of his thought and hence appropriate to serve as the basis of our investigation.
We assume that the recurring mention of a name in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s texts testifies to the importance the author ascribes to the indi-
vidual, whether the author learns from this individual or criticizes him.4 However, the possibility of a Sufi or other thinker influencing
Ibn al-ʿArabī without the author explicitly referring to him must not be excluded.5 A note should be made on Ibn al-ʿArabī’s criticism
of individuals and groups. On the one hand, he does not hesitate to censure individuals and groups regarding their approaches, while,
on the other, we discern a mild attitude toward opposing views. For example, he opposes the Ashʿarite theory according to which the
attributes are added to God’s essence. However, he says that his way is not to refute this opposing view, but to clarify it and its
sources, and to ask whether the view has any effect on the success of the Ashʿarite school of thought. The reason for this approach is
the vastness of the Divine (al-ittisāʿ al-ilāhī), or God’s infinite manifestations, among which the Ashʿarite position concerning the
attributes is included.6
One should bear in mind that throughout his life Ibn al-ʿArabī met many hundreds of people, both in the West and the East. He
learned from many of them, especially from the Sufi way of life.7 However, he had contacts not only with Sufis, but also with scholars
from other fields of thought, such as theologians,8 philosophers, grammarians and poets.9 For the present study I concentrate on
those Sufis who seem to me to have had the greatest influence on him.
It is impossible to include a detailed discussion of every Sufi who appears in this work. Hence, I confine my examination to the broad
lines of their teachings, in order to show how their ideas expressed the principal perceptions of Sufism. In other words, the Sufis of the
ninth and tenth centuries, often mentioned in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s writings, introduced the foundations of Sufism. We can generally point
to each individual’s specific contribution to Sufi thought and practice.
Dhū al-Nūn al-Miṣrī (d.860) established the scholarly nature of Sufism. His piety also served as a model of conduct for many Sufis.
He was the first to formulate the theory of gnosis (maʿrifa), that is, knowledge which comes to the Sufi from the divine source, and
differentiated this kind of knowledge from knowledge (ʿilm) acquired by the human being through his own efforts. He also taught the
Sufis the doctrines of annihilation (fanāʾ) and perdurance (baqāʾ) in God and the unique attributes of God’s beauty (jamāl) and
God’s majesty (jalāl), which are among the attributes of God’s self-manifestation.10
The Sufis used the theme of Muhammad’s ascension to heaven (miʿrāj) as a motif of the Sufi gradually coming close to God. Thus,
al-Bisṭāmī (d.874) discusses the miʿrāj in mystical terms. He also talks about the destruction of human selfishness with the ulti-
mate aim of becoming united with God. He was so overwhelmed by God’s presence that once he fainted after uttering the call for
prayer and at other times expressed ecstatic phrases (shaṭaḥāt), such as ‘Praise be to Me, how great is My Majesty’, and paradoxical
sayings. No doubt he may be considered a sound representative of intoxicated Sufism.11
The Sufi who, to the best of our knowledge, discussed psychological matters as part of spiritual training is al-Muḥāsibī (d.857). He
was so nicknamed because he analysed the nature of the human soul and the ways to achieve one’s purity. Opposing extreme asceti-
cism, such as complete reliance on God (tawakkul) to the point of refusing to earn a livelihood, he preferred inward piety. In addition,
his writings delved into the essence of the intellect and he was acquainted with Muʿtazilite doctrines and terms. His doctrines influ-
enced al-Ghazālī.12
It is very interesting that three Sufis – Abū Saʿīd al-Kharrāz (d.899), Sahl al-Tustarī (d.896), and al-Ḥakīm al-Tirmidhī (d. between
905 and 910) – wrote about the phenomenon of the walāya (friendship of or proximity to God, or sainthood) during more or less the
same period. Annemarie Schimmel explains this as a wish to systematize mystical thought.13 However, it seems to me that this ap-
proach owes its existence to the Sufis’ awareness that prophethood should be explained in spiritual terms which are relevant to the Sufi
way, and to their growing conviction that they share certain traits with the prophets.
Sahl al-Tustarī wrote a commentary on the Quran which explains each verse according to a fourfold meaning. He is also characterized
by his emphasis on the importance of repentance (tawba) and the function of letters in the Sufi way, which supposedly influenced Ibn
Masarra (d.931).14 Sahl’s disciple, Ibn Sālim (d.909), is the eponym of the Sālimiyya school to which Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī (d.996), a
mystic and theologian who composed a comprehensive manual of Sufism, belonged.15 Sahl was a faithful representative of the Baṣra
school of Sufism. This school was characterized by conservatism and asceticism, while the Baghdad school of Sufism was more
speculative. Sahl believed that recollection of God (dhikr Allāh) enables the Sufi to relive the experience of the primordial covenant with
God mentioned in Quran 7:172. According to his belief, God is pure light from which derives the luminous essence of Muhammad, the
perfect archetype of the worshipper of God, who existed before creation.16
Al-Ḥakīm (‘the philosopher’) al-Tirmidhī is so called because he introduced Hellenistic philosophical ideas into Islamic mysticism.
Like Sahl, he also wrote a commentary on the Quran, in which he tried to find the esoteric meaning of the Sacred Text. But his fame, no
doubt, derives from his doctrine of sainthood as is developed in his book Sīrat al-awliyāʾ (The Way of the Saints). Also, he described
God as the only true entity; however, he believed that the human being can attain God through a gradual mystical process of ascension
which corresponds to the Sufi stations.17
Schimmel writes the following appraisal of al-Junayd (d.910): ‘The undisputed master of the Sufis of Baghdad was Abū’l-Qāsim al-
Junayd, who is considered the pivot in the history of early Sufism. The representatives of divergent mystical schools and modes of
thought could refer to him as their master, so that the initiation chains of later Sufi orders almost invariably go back to him.’18 Al-
Junayd represents sober Sufism, contrary to the intoxicated Sufism of al-Bisṭāmī, al-Ḥallāj (d.922) and others.19 He held al-
Muḥāsibī’s psychological perceptions in high esteem and regarded Sufism as a way leading to purity and mental struggle. He elabo-
rated on the primordial covenant mentioned by Sahl: according to him, the aim of the Sufi’s way is to find the origin of humanity in
God, that is, to attain the state of the primordial covenant of human beings with God, as attested in Quran 7:172 in which all human be-
ings witnessed the existence of their God before they were created. This state embodies the highest perception of God’s oneness,
which means the separation of the eternal from what is created in time.20
One of the most debated issues in Sufism was how to express Sufi mysteries and experiences. In al-Junayd’s view, the best way was
by speaking through allusions (ishārāt), so that people who were not qualified to deal with esoteric matters would not discuss them
and cause damage to the Sufis by distorting their teachings. This approach coincides with al-Junayd’s sober Sufism and contradicts the
intoxicated Sufism of figures such as al-Ḥallāj, which sometimes expressed itself by manifest and bold sayings.21 Had al-Ḥallāj, who
was al-Junayd’s disciple, not divulged his views and mystical experiences, he very probably would not have been executed. Al-Ḥallāj’s
central theme in his sermons and prayers was the love for God. He claimed to have reached perfect union with God. Instead of per-
forming the Pilgrimage, he advocated the performance of other commandments, such as feeding orphans and poor people. Such
teachings, in addition to his involvement in politics, contributed to his alienation from Islamic orthodox circles.22
Another important Sufi of the ninth and tenth centuries is Abū Bakr al-Shiblī (d.946), al-Ḥallāj’s friend, who was a high-ranking gov-
ernment official before his conversion to Sufism. Al-Junayd admired him, while other Sufis claimed that he did not properly interpret
the notion of God’s oneness, which was one of his favourite themes along with love for God. His ideas were frequently expressed in
paradoxes.23
Like al-Sarrāj (d.988), author of Kitāb al-Lumaʿ fī’l-taṣawwuf (The Book of the Essentials of Sufism) and al-Kalābādhī (d.990), author
of Kitāb al-Taʿarruf li-madhhab ahl al-taṣawwuf (The Book of Acquaintance with the Sufis’ School), Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī wrote a manual
on Sufism entitled Qūt al-qulūb (The Nourishment of the Hearts).24 This book can be characterized as a blend of Islamic law and mysti-
cism. Abū Ṭālib claims that Sufi teachings and ethics represent the ideas and customs of Muhammad and his Companions, which
were transmitted by al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (d.728) and preserved by the Sufis. In this respect, we can safely say that al-Makkī is the link be-
tween the earlier Sufis and al-Ghazālī (d.1111), who also contributed much to the synthesis between Islamic law and mysticism.25 Al-
Makkī also influenced ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī (d.1166), the author of Kitāb al-Ghunya li-ṭālibī ṭarīq al-ḥaqq (That Which is Sufficient
for the Seekers of the True Path), who became the most popular saint in the Islamic world.26
However, the difference between al-Ghazālī and the earlier Sufis, including al-Makkī, is the former’s philosophical mysticism, which,
for example, discusses love for God in terms of intellectual reasoning27 and states that syllogism is the basis of all the mystical
tenets.28 Al-Ghazālī exerted some influence on Ibn Barrajān (d.1141), who was nicknamed ‘the al-Ghazālī of al-Andalus’.
This short survey of the earlier Sufis dealt with in the present work, along with mentions of some later Sufis, introduce the central fea-
tures of Sufism. These characteristics can be described by sets of opposing approaches: intoxication and sobriety, manifestation and
concealment, conservatism and revolutionism, practice (ethics) and thought, extremism (for example in asceticism) and
moderation,29 seclusion and involvement in society.30 Having been acquainted with all these Sufis, Ibn al-ʿArabī was well aware of
these traits, embracing some and rejecting others.
The question of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s originality seems at first glance very simple and easy to answer. Many scholars who know his writ-
ings would immediately state that he was undoubtedly an original thinker whose thought exceeds the boundaries not only of orthodox
Islam but also of Sufism.31 However, my point of departure is different and I do not take his originality for granted. I will examine his
approach in each of the essential foundations of his thought in order to evaluate his originality and its extent.
Regarding the question of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s originality, Affifi makes the following observation:
It is practically impossible to say that any particular philosophy or mysticism is the source of Ibnul ʿArabī’s whole system. Ibnul
ʿArabī had a foot in every camp, so to speak, and derived his material from every conceivable source. His system is eclectic in the
highest degree, but we can easily find the germs from which many parts of this system seem to have developed, in the writings of
older philosophies, Ṣūfīs, and scholastic theologians. He borrowed ideas from Islamic as well as non-Islamic sources, orthodox as
well as heterodox.32
The question of originality is not only about whether similar ideas are found in earlier and later sources, but also concerns the struc-
ture, arrangement and development of these ideas. M. Chodkiewicz uncovers an instance of pure originality in his proof that there is a
connection in terms of content between the waystations (manāzil) and the arrangement of the sūras in the Quran; each waystation
represents the beginning of a sūra, and the Sufi disciple (murīd) goes through 114 (the number of the sūras in the Quran) waystations
from the last sūra to the first.33 The arrangement of the waystations in such a way is unprecedented in earlier Sufism.
We shall see that Ibn al-ʿArabī has various ways of tackling his predecessors’ views. Sometimes he puts forward an earlier notion as
corroboration of his own thought; at other times he polemicizes against scholars, before finally accepting their view with some
modifications.34 Also, he does not hesitate to reject ideas introduced by famous Sufis. In my discussion, I show not only the influ-
ences exerted on Ibn al-ʿArabī, but also his attitude toward earlier authorities.
The present work is divided into two main parts:
1. Earlier scholars, finishing with al-Ghazālī.
2. Later scholars beginning with al-Ghazālī and ending with Ibn al-ʿArabī’s contemporaries, some of whom were his followers and
colleagues.
In general his contemporaries are mentioned in his writings mainly in the context of Sufi ethics and practice, whereas the earlier schol-
ars appear as those who express mystical and philosophical ideas.35 I have focused my attention on Sufis who appear in Ibn al-
ʿArabī’s writings several times, and those recognized as eminent Sufis. After analysing the material in this order, I conclude with the
question of whether Ibn al-ʿArabī was an original thinker. To the extent that the evidence points to an affirmative answer, I shall try to
assess the measure of his originality and the issues in which he distinguished himself as an exceptional Sufi figure.
The present work will not enter into the influence of great streams of thought such as Neoplatonism on Ibn al-ʿArabī, or the influ-
ence of particular philosophers,36 for these issues have been discussed by Affifi, who finds that Ibn al-ʿArabī’s Neoplatonism goes
back to the Epistles of the Brethren of Purity (Rasāʾil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʾ), and by other scholars.37
1. MP, pp. 174–94.
2. Osman Yahia counts 700 books, treatises and collections of poetry, but only some 95 are extant. For details see J. Clark and S.
Hirtenstein, ‘Establishing Ibn ʿArabī’s Heritage’, JMIAS, 52 (2012), pp. 1–32.
3. SDG, pp. 371–86. Affifi’s treatment of the Sufis in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s writings is rather brief and does not teach us much about the lat-
ter’s attitude toward them. Also his examination of Ibn Masarra’s role in the development of the Greatest Master’s thought should be
revised in the light of Addas’ research, which will be referred to in the present work. C.W. Ernst’s article, ‘The man without attributes:
Ibn Arabī’s interpretation of Abu Yazid al-Bistami’, JMIAS, 13 (1993), pp. 1–18, examines a number of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s interpretations of
the sayings of Abu Yazid but lacks an overall view of Abu Yazid’s impact on Ibn al-ʿArabī. See the section on Abū Yazīd al-Bisṭāmī
below.
4. Ibn al-ʿArabī’s self-confidence was so great that he did not hesitate to criticize even his outstanding teachers. Sufis, p. 3.
5. See the case of al-Ghazālī.
6. Fut.I:309f.; FM.I:204, ll.16–27; SPK, p. 96.
7. Ibn al-ʿArabī held that there is no fault in learning from many teachers. He acknowledged that he had three hundred teachers.
Quest, p. 67.
8. B. Abrahamov, ‘Ibn al-ʿArabī on divine love’, in S. Klein-Braslavy, B. Abrahamov and J. Sadan (eds.), Tribute to Michael, pp. 7–36.
9. Quest, pp. 93–103.
10. Dimensions, pp. 42–4; A. Knysh, Islamic Mysticism, pp. 40f.
11. Dimensions, pp. 47–9.
12. Ibid. pp. 54f.; Knysh, Mysticism, pp. 43–6.
13. Dimensions, p. 55; Knysh, Mysticism, p. 58.
14. Michael Ebstein and Sara Sviri question the authenticity of Risālat al-Ḥurūf which is attributed to Sahl.
15. Dimensions, pp. 55f.; Knysh, Mysticism, p. 84.
16. Ibid. p. 86.
17. Dimensions, pp. 56f.; Knysh, Mysticism, pp. 105–8. B. Radtke, Drei Schriften des Theosophen von Tirmidh.
18. Dimensions, p. 57.
19. Ibid. p. 58; Knysh, Mysticism, p. 53.
20. Dimensions, p. 58; Knysh, Mysticism, p. 55.
21. Dimensions, p. 59; Knysh, Mysticism, pp. 53f.
22. Dimensions, pp. 62–74; Knysh, Mysticism, pp. 72–82.
23. Dimensions, pp. 77–80.
24. Ibid. pp. 84f.
25. Knysh, Mysticism, pp. 120f.
26. Ibid. pp. 180–2.
27. Abrahamov, ‘Divine Love’, Chap. II.
28. Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyāʾ ʿulūm al-dīn, al-Maktaba al-Tijāriyya al-Kubrā, Vol. IV, Kitāb al-tafakkur.
29. The border between moderate and extreme Sufism is not always clear. Knysh, Mysticism, p. 311, n.156; p. 313, n.173.
30. This last set of contraries can also be examples of extreme and moderate asceticism.
31. T. Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism, pp. 2f.
32. MP, p. 174.
33. M. Chodkiewicz, ‘The Futūḥāt Makkiyya and its commentators: some unresolved enigmas’, in L. Lewisohn (ed.), The Heritage of
Sufism, Vol. II, pp. 226–8.
34. See the chapter on Sahl al-Tustarī below.
35. See, for example, Abū al-ʿAbbās al-Sabtī (d.1205) who appears as a preacher of charity, and Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyya (d.801) who
regards devotion to God as an element which overwhelms any other principle of religion. SDG, pp. 371–6. M. Takeshita rightly con-
cludes that the Greatest Master owes much to the early Sufis. M. Takeshita, Ibn ʿArabī’s Theory of the Perfect Man and its Place in the
History of Islamic Thought, p. 170.
36. Among the philosophers he only admires Ibn Rushd (SPK, p. 384, n.13) and the divine Plato (Aflāṭūn al-ilāhī) who, according to
Ibn al-ʿArabī, experienced revelation. Our author says that philosophy (ḥikma) is truly the science of prophecy, and the philosophers
are really those who know God (al-ḥukamāʾ hum ʿalā al-ḥaqīqa al-ʿulamāʾ bi-Allāh). However, the philosophers and all the
people of speculation erred, because they learned their metaphysics not from God, but from their intellect. Fut.IV:227f.
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Conclusion
We have dealt with eighteen figures, eleven of whom are earlier Sufis (i.e. pre-eleventh century), and the rest are later. The topics treat-
ed by them constitute the core of the Greatest Master’s mystical philosophy and Sufi practice. What is significant in our discussion is
not only the influence exerted by some Sufis on Ibn al-ʿArabī, but also his attitude toward them, which is disclosed in his criticism
and rejection of their views, acceptance of their thoughts whether fully or partially, and admiration for their practices and faculties. His
disputes with some of them, even in dreams, show his profound absorption in the world of his predecessors, as if he believes all of
them are in some way alive and hence available for discussion with him. Thus, the views and the practices of the Sufis were for Ibn al-
ʿArabī a living tradition which could be moulded by him – but also by other Sufis. As we have seen in the section on Ibn Qasī, our au-
thor invites others to add information to his book. Thus, what concerns him is the truth, which, in his view, is attained through revelation.
Generally, the material discussed shows that the earlier Sufis dealt with mystical theoretical ideas and hence affected Ibn al-ʿArabī’s
thought more than the later figures, whose teachings revolve mainly around Sufi practices. Some of the Shaykh’s basic ideas appear in
the teachings of his predecessors. We shall now summarize the data examined to draw conclusions both about Ibn al-ʿArabī’s attitude toward these eighteen Sufis and the measure of their influence on him.
Two of the Shaykh’s most important ideas appear in al-Kharrāz’s teachings. These are God’s transcendence,1 which is expressed
through the dictum that only God knows God, and God’s joining of contraries. Whereas in the teachings of the earlier Sufis God’s tran-
scendence remains a statement, in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s writings it is a part of the doctrine of the One and the many. According to this doc-
trine, the Essence of God is unknown; only His names and attributes are known. Furthermore, God is the only real entity, in contradis-
tinction to other entities which are but manifestations of his names and attributes. Al-Bisṭāmī stresses the seeming existence of the
cosmos in general, and the human being in particular, a thesis which becomes a central theme in the doctrine of our author. God gov-
erns the cosmos and even human acts are the subject of God’s will.2
In his Sufi Metaphysics and Quranic Prophets, Ron Nettler states that ‘the issue of the One and the many, unity and diversity, may be
seen as the bedrock of Ibn ʿArabī’s Sufi metaphysics.’3 However, behind the notion of the One and the many there is a very signif-
icant principle which underlies the whole system of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s thought. Truth, in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s view, derives not from one as-
pect, but rather from the combination of several aspects, which can be sometimes contradictory. For example, the truth is God’s being,
which is both transcendent and immanent, although these are two opposing elements. This notion of the joining of contraries in one
entity goes back to the earlier Sufis. As we have seen, al-Bisṭāmī expresses the idea that leaving servitude to God requires distance
from Him, while coming close to Him, which connotes emulation of His attributes, means nearness to Him. Thus, when God says to
al-Bisṭāmī ‘Leave yourself and come’, He creates the paradox of being near and at the same time distant from God. The notion of
joining contraries is further developed by Dhū al-Nūn al-Miṣrī, who sees this phenomenon not only in God and the world to come,
but also in this world. Al-Kharrāz goes even further stating that God is both Manifest and Hidden. As we have seen, similar ideas are
introduced by al-Junayd and al-Tirmidhī. And for a later Sufi, Rūzbihān Baqlī (d.1209), the starting point ‘is the affirmation of both tran-
scendence and immanence of God at the same time’.4 This principle involves not only opposite aspects, but also different aspects.
Thus, the superiority of prophets can be classified in keeping with divergent aspects (as for Ibn Qasī).
In sum, our author incorporates the early foundations of the idea of observing a notion from several perspectives, and of joining con-
traries, whether at the same time or in different times. However, note that we cannot know definitely what or who Ibn al-ʿArabī’s exact
inspiration was for looking at one thing from different angles. In the section on al-Ghazālī we point out the possibility of the Ghazalian
impact,5 but earlier sources are not to be excluded. Still, we can state with certainty that this notion is not original in the Akbarian
thought.
Although Ibn al-ʿArabī knew the notion of the first matter from which the world was created from the philosophers, the terms he
uses in this context are important because they are not philosophical in origin. He points out that ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and al-Tustarī ex-
press this idea and use the term habāʾ (dust) as the primordial matter. According to the Greatest Master, the procedure responsible
for the creation of the world is God’s uttering the word kun (Be!). Al-Ḥallāj expresses this idea and adds that, since the human being
assimilates God’s attributes, he too can use this word for the purpose of creation. Ibn al-ʿArabī also adopts the notion that the
process of production resembles marriage from al-Ḥallāj. Using the word kun as a device of creation shows the power of letters in this
process. Ibn al-ʿArabī shares this view with al-Tirmidhī.
Sometimes we have the impression that his predecessors’ views stimulated our author to develop a complex doctrine based on them.
A case in point is the doctrine of the Perfect Human Being, which applies to the essence or spirit of Muhammad. This essence contains
all the ingredients of the cosmos, both spiritual and material. In al-Tustarī’s writings the heart of Muhammad serves as the source of
revelation to all human beings and of the mystical union with God. Ibn al-ʿArabī possibly adopted the idea of the eternal existence of
Muhammad’s heart to create the doctrine of the eternal existence of the spirit of Muhammad.
One of al-Tustarī’s doctrines developed later by Ibn Barrajān is the principle of al-ʿadl (literally: justice), which al-Tustarī defines
as al-ḥaqq al-makhlūq bihi al-samawāt wa’l-arḍ, the principle through which God created the heavens and the earth. As we have
seen, whereas al-Tustarī and Ibn Barrajān regard al-ʿadl as principle or order, Ibn al-ʿArabī turns this term into an entity, the logos,
which is the first created being. Here again, our author takes a notion from an earlier mystic and changes its meaning.
In his writing, the Greatest Master uses Quranic verses and traditions skillfully; however, generally they appear as corroboration, al-
though he tries to create the impression that his ideas come directly from the true interpretation of the Quran. He accepts al-
Bisṭāmī’s and Abū Madyan’s conviction that knowledge gained through personal mystical unveiling is better than knowledge trans-
mitted by people. This notion coincides with his idea that even analogy (qiyās) is legitimized through the revelation of the Prophet.6
The relationship between the content of revelation and of religion seems to be a lesson that Ibn al-ʿArabī learned from al-Junayd.
Al-Junayd, the representative of moderate Sufism in the ninth century, states that ‘our knowledge is bound by the Quran and the
Sunna’, which literally means that every piece of knowledge gained by unveiling must be weighed up against these two sources in order
to receive legitimacy. Our author adopts this dictum, indeed, to the extent that he broadens its scope to include all that the prophets
have stated. Furthermore, Ibn al-ʿArabī also adds reason as a protector of religion which in turn protects truth. Truth is the most
important value in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s eyes, but it cannot be attained without reason and religion. Extending religious teachings to include
Jewish and Christian sources, the Greatest Master increases the possibilities of true revelations.
One of the significant themes of Sufi practice is the performance of miracles, called karāmāt (literally: favours) in the context of
God’s saints. Al-Bisṭāmī refers negatively to physical miracles performed by the saints stating that they do not prove human superi-
ority. Probably continuing al-Bisṭāmī’s thread of thought, Ibn al-ʿArabī differentiates between physical and spiritual miracles and
prefers the latter to the former, which he claims belong to the common people. As we have seen, the miracles al-Bisṭāmī and the
Shaykh favour do not occur in the body of the saint, but through him or for his sake;7 in this manner, they are not strictly speaking
physical miracles, such as walking on water or floating on air. This posited superiority of spiritual miracles does not mean that the
saints did not possess the faculty to perform physical miracles. For example, Dhū al-Nūn and al-Bisṭāmī were associated with such
miracles, but as Ibn al-ʿArabī says in relation to Ibn al-ʿArīf, the highest value is ascribed to the saint’s knowledge of God and his
Sufi behaviour.
In some basic notions expressed by our author, the clear impact of the theosophical thinker al-Tirmidhī can be seen. The doctrine of
the walāya was developed by Ibn al-ʿArabī based on al-Tirmidhī’s ideas. As we have observed, the difference between awliyāʾ ḥaqq
Allāh and awliyāʾ Allāh was embodied in the life of the Greatest Master. Furthermore, when Ibn al-ʿArabī gives preference to aban-
doning the stations,8 because they are inferior to being close to God, he is following in the footsteps of al-Tirmidhī, who elevates those
whom God chooses as His saints while placing those who undertake legal commands and Sufi practice at a lower level. As did al-
Tirmidhī, Ibn al-ʿArabī regarded himself as the Seal of the Saints, and we may assume that this lofty self-estimation was one of the
reasons why the Shaykh al-Akbar felt free to criticize certain Sufis. The very fact that Ibn al-ʿArabī applied himself to the task of an-
swering al-Tirmidhī’s questions proves that the former revered the latter.
Much of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s writing is devoted to Sufi practice, stories, states, etc. Stations such as abstinence (zuhd) and scrupu-
lousness (waraʿ) are associated with significant Sufis such as al-Bisṭāmī, Dhū al-Nūn and Abū Madyan. However, as noted through-
out, the earlier Sufis play the more major role in the formulation of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s philosophical mysticism, while the later ones
served mainly as models of Sufi behaviour and ethics.
Even if the Sufis whom Ibn al-ʿArabī chose to put forward possessed flawless moral traits and outstanding Sufi behaviour, or signif-
icant mystical and philosophical ideas, he did not hesitate to criticize them whenever he felt it appropriate.9 The most salient criterion
for this criticism is the view that Sufi practice, like performing the stations, is not the highest value required of the Sufi. Hence, for
example, among the Sufis al-Muḥāsibī is not reckoned worthy of the highest standing. However, even Sufis who experienced revela-
tions are censured if their received communications are too brief to convey to them the complete knowledge they need (see the case of
al-Tustarī). And of the Sufi Ibn Barrajān, who preferred science to revelation in his divination, nothing further need be said.
Sometimes Ibn al-ʿArabī’s disapproval of a Sufi’s idea is expressed within a vision. This is the case with Dhū al-Nūn, when he ad-
mits that he had made an error when saying that God’s characterization runs contrary to that which one imagines or thinks, which
means that God is absolutely transcendent. When meeting al-Kharrāz in a vision, the Shaykh taught him that God’s unity is an objective
value; as a result, the former was ashamed, probably because he was not aware of this true idea. At other times, Ibn al-ʿArabī merely
comments on the teachings of his predecessors, stressing the difference between his thought and theirs (see Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī).
Our author also takes to task the style of the Sufi Abū Madyan, finding it insufficient, and reprimands the unruly utterances of al-Jīlānī
that prove his presumptuousness.
Another characteristic of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s attitude toward the Sufis is his occasional indecision in cases where he expresses a different
or opposing opinion (see Ibn Qasī). Probably in such cases he had not received revelation by which he could affirm his conviction on a
chosen theme. However, in other cases where our author is firmly convinced of his viewpoint, he expresses it clearly and without hesi-
tation, as in the discussion of intoxication and sobriety ascribed to al-Ḥallāj and al-Shiblī, respectively. Sometimes the Greatest Master
tries to moderate boldness discerned in a Sufi’s sayings (al-Bisṭāmī). All these approaches to Sufi practice and thought show us that
the Shaykh relates to the Sufis in keeping with his own principles, as clearly expressed in his writings. He also classifies the Sufis ac-
cording to clear criteria, such as those who follow in the footsteps of Muhammad or other prophets and those who do not (see
al-Jīlānī).10
Ibn al-ʿArabī’s notion that one should empty one’s mind of all thoughts in order to receive revelation probably goes back to al-
Junayd. This idea serves Ibn al-ʿArabī as a point of departure when refuting al-Ghazālī who taught, according to our author, that one
should know the sciences before delving into an attempt to receive unveiling.
The spiritualization of the formal rites of Islam begins with al-Shiblī, continues with al-Ghazālī and culminates in the works of Ibn al-
ʿArabī. Like his predecessors, Ibn al-ʿArabī does not reject the value of formal rites, but stresses the important role of the spiritual
meanings of these rites. It is so important that the Shaykh accepts Ibn al-ʿArīf’s statement that the truth resides within the esoteric
realm. One cannot state with certainty the source of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s chapter on the mysteries of the Ḥajj; however, he is obviously not
the first to express the spiritual value of this commandment.
It is worth reiterating that Ibn al-ʿArabī had no qualms in adopting terms from the Sufis and integrating them into his own doctrinal
framework. Such terms include, for example, the prostration of the heart (sujūd al-qalb) coined by al-Tustarī, and al-Tirmidhī’s God as
the Owner of the Kingdom. These terms play a significant role in our author’s teachings.
We have dealt with two significant themes: Ibn al-ʿArabī’s attitude toward the Sufis and the notions he acquired from them. His
attitude toward their ideas and practices vacillates between acceptance and rejection, and he sometimes emphasizes his superior posi-
tion even in dreams and visions. As for the second theme, we have seen that the Greatest Master gained much knowledge from his ear-
lier and later predecessors. While his lessons from the earlier Sufis focused on doctrines and philosophical mysticism,11 his knowl-
edge of Sufi practices came mostly from the later Sufis.
Was Ibn al-ʿArabī an original thinker, notwithstanding the numerous notions he acquired from the Sufis? One should be cautious in
answering this question, so we limit our reply by laying down two criteria for assessing his originality:
The measure of fundamental ideas gained from others
Some of the most fundamental ideas in Ibn al-ʿArabī’s doctrine are not his. However, the idea that the cosmos is the manifestation of
God and the mutual reflection of God in the human being and the human being in God,12 and most of its ramifications, is his alone.
His theory in the Fuṣūṣ that each prophet represents an idea prevalent in the cosmos is also unprecedented. And, uniquely, even
when our author adopts a theory of an earlier thinker or school of theology, he alters it to coincide with his own theory. The Ashʿarite
theory of God’s continuous creation of the cosmos becomes a part of Ibn al-ʿArabī’s theory of God’s manifestations which are always
in a process of becoming. That a certain fact can be gauged from different angles is already found in early Sufism, but the idea that all
the aspects combine to create truth is Ibn al-ʿArabī’s original contribution. For example, the truth about God is that He is both tran-
scendent and immanent.
Attention should also be paid to the Shaykh’s sophisticated interpretation of the Quran, which is not always based on allusions, but
also on rational and plain analysis of the text. When dealing with a Quranic story, the whole Quran contributes to its interpretation and
supports the author’s ideas.13
The way of dealing with the ideas that have been handed down
In most of the ideas gained from others, we observe that the Greatest Master embellishes them with a great deal of complexity and
elaboration. The classification of the saints is not something novel in the period before Ibn al-ʿArabī; however, his classification is
more complex and detailed than others. Early ideas are interwoven into our author’s innovative ideas, so that what remained in an
embryonic state in the first generation was developed to become a part of an all-embracing conception. The very fact that he formed a
complete theory connecting God with the cosmos is a great novelty of Ibn al-ʿArabī.
It is common knowledge that all original thinkers begin by learning from others, but their originality lies in the combining of older
ideas to create new ideas. My hope is that I have succeeded in proving that Ibn al-ʿArabī was indeed an original thinker, in terms of
his own ideas, his interweaving of the ideas of others into his own system, and the unique way in which he did so.
1. See the sections on al-Bisṭāmī and Ibn al-ʿArīf.
2. See the sections on al-Tirmidhī and Abū Madyān. Later Islamic authors, such as the historian Ibn Khaldūn (d.1406), thought of the
Sufi literature of the ninth and tenth centuries in idealistic terms and contrasted it with later Sufism which was stamped in their view by
monism, and hence deviation from the true religion. A. Knysh, Ibn ʿArabī in the Later Islamic Tradition, pp. 196, 198. It seems that
these authors did not know exactly the views of the early Sufis.
3. R.L. Nettler, Sufi Metaphysics and Quranic Prophets, p. 7.
4. M. Takeshita, Ibn ʿArabī’s Theory of the Perfect Man and its Place in the History of Islamic Thought, p. 24.
5. See also al-Ghazālī, The Niche of Lights, annotated translation of Affifi’s edition by D. Buchman, p. 24 of the Arabic text.
6. B. Abrahamov, ‘Ibn al-ʿArabī’s theory of knowledge’, JMIAS, 42 (2007), II, pp. 17ff.
7. See the case of al-ʿUraybī.
8. See my ‘Abandoning the station (tark al-maqām), as reflecting Ibn al-ʿArabī’s principle of relativity’, JMIAS, 47 (2010), pp. 23–46.
9. Fut.IV:346; FM.II:601, l.33 – 602, l.1.
10. See the classification of the people of God (ahl Allāh) in Chapter 25 of the Futūḥāt.
11. Takeshita, Perfect Man, p. 170.
12. Fuṣūṣ al-ḥikam, pp. 61f.
13. For example, see the chapter (3) on Nūḥ (Noah) in the Fuṣūṣ.
