From doctrine to experience
Contents
Situated at the heart of the Muslim tradition, Sufism takes up the whole of the principles of Islam in its foundations, with particular emphasis on love, inner divestment and the effacement of the self.
The metaphysical perspective proper to Sufism rests mainly on two notions:
- on the one hand, the necessity of a supreme Reality, at once immanent and transcendent, as the cause and the final end of all creation;
- on the other, the possibility open to man of transforming his habitual perception of the world and recovering the luminous fibre that lies dormant within him.
From the supreme Reality to immediate experience
The supreme Reality is designated in Arabic by the word Allah, which can also be rendered in English as Divinity or even God, provided we do not limit the meaning of these words to an anthropomorphic conception, a conception that was extensively developed in the West. For Allah lies beyond all representation, since He animates everything and infinitely transcends every visible form. The Muslim tradition, however, regards the divine qualities as so many names designating the multiple facets of this Reality.
It is thus that one may speak of the Merciful, the Generous, the All-Powerful, the Most High, the All-Forgiving, so as to characterise the signs of the divine presence in the universe. The divine names also make it possible to link the multiplicity of forms, actions and beings back to the Principle at the origin of all manifestation. Yet for present-day humanity, this link is very often forgotten. The Sufi approach stresses the intelligibility of creation, by reference to that utterance in which God speaks in the first person: “I was a hidden treasure, I yearned to be known, so I created the world.” Creation is therefore not an obstacle to each person’s realisation; on the contrary, it constitutes for man the most immediate sign of the divine ordering.
An anchoring in the world
If creation is thus a source of meditation, it can also become a veil when it is apprehended for itself and no longer as symbol. Man then maintains an attachment to earthly things, which makes him a prisoner of the world and of his own psychic limitations. This risk explains the attitude, observable in all traditions, of ascetics who choose to withdraw from every solicitation so as to protect themselves from whatever might become an object of temptation.
A Sufi story well illustrates the fragility of a seeker of Truth who cuts himself off from his contemporaries: “There were two brothers in quest of the truth. Each chose a path of his own. The first stayed in the town, where he kept a ladies’ shoe shop; the second preferred to withdraw to a nearby mountain to devote himself entirely to meditation. The years passed, and the second brother, having acquired very rare charisms, decided to come down to the town and visit his brother. He was accompanied by a lion he had tamed, and caused general panic when he walked through the streets. His brother received him very warmly and was impressed by the feats his brother could perform. The latter asked for water to be poured into an amphora, and when he turned the vessel upside down, the water did not flow, for he had caused it to freeze. The first brother asked him to mind the shop for an hour while he went to buy ingredients to prepare a good meal. After a few minutes, a customer came into the shop and asked to try on a pair of shoes. The second brother did his best, and when he took the lady’s foot to slip on the shoe, the water was heard to flow from the amphora, and the lion began to roar.”
The Sufi’s spiritual journey consists in gradually taming the emotions and passions that dwell within him, not by lulling them into an illusory slumber through withdrawal from the world, but through an inner pacification that is the fruit of a regular practice of dhikr. He can then perceive the outer world as the projection of his own nature, and the constraints of daily life become the place of his ascesis. The immanence of the supreme Reality is tasted at every instant, in every encounter. Habitual perception is transformed, and the luminous nature of creation is disclosed according to each one’s degree (see “L’enseignement initiatique”).
If the elements of doctrine are necessary for grasping in depth the theoretical foundations of the Sufi path, the seeker is gradually led to detach himself from concepts and bookish references to make room for the concrete aspects of his own presence on earth. At the assemblies held periodically within a tariqa (a Sufi brotherhood), an outside observer might be surprised by the tenor of the conversations that spring up between disciples after the spiritual work: people talk about their jobs, their family life, their health problems, their holiday plans, without feeling the need to evoke all manner of miracles or to quote the poems of some great Sufi saint. For spirituality is no longer lived through the prism of historical references, but in a direct and permanent way, thanks to the influence of the living spiritual guide. These friendly conversations carry as much weight as the spiritual practices proper, for they weave subtle heart-to-heart ties between the disciples.
The exemplarity of conduct
The guide, or master, perfectly accomplished, is the living testimony of the possibility open to each of us of discovering, during our sojourn on earth, our own inner light. In relation to his disciples, he plays the same part as the Prophet did with his companions, for he is the “pole” or the reference of his time. He is the direct heir of the wisdom of the first of the Muslims, and he holds the divine authorisation to communicate this Reality to those predisposed to receive it. “The master is not the one whose words carry you away; he is the one whose presence transforms you,” says a Sufi aphorism, situating the central role occupied by the spiritual guide in the disciple’s inner journey.
Before this vast mystery, the disciple can only praise his Lord for having guided him onto such a path; his gratitude will find expression in the pursuit of exemplary conduct in daily life. He naturally listens to those around him, and has no other will than to serve the One to whom we return. This attitude of openness, sincere humility and availability is the key to a genuine anchoring in the Sufi path. It is the sign of an inner maturity, and makes it possible not to be overwhelmed by the divine favours that pour into the depths of the being. “I have sent you, in the person of the Prophet, a model of nobility of conduct,” states a hadith in which Allah speaks in the first person. The Sufis have no other model of perfection, and according to certain sources, the highest spiritual station is the “station of servanthood”, that is, a permanent inner state corresponding to the total gift of oneself.
The profession of faith of the Muslim religion, or shahada, can be rendered in these terms: “I bear witness that there is no reality but the divine Reality, and that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.” It constitutes the first pillar of Islam. The Sufi recognises himself in it completely, for his whole journey unfolds and coils around this pillar, which is thereby revivified and made actual at every moment. Just as it has been said that Sufism constitutes the heart of Islam, one could say that the Sufi’s experience is the very spirit of the shahada.
