The Kashf al-mahjúb: The oldest Persian treatise on Súfiism

Dervishes who choose to reside, and not to travel, are bound to observe the following rules of discipline. When a traveller comes to them, they must meet him joyfully and receive him with respect and treat him like an honoured guest and freely set before him whatever food they have, modelling their behaviour upon that of Abraham. They must not inquire whence he has come or whither he is going or what is his name, but must deem that he has come from God and is going to God and that his name is “servant of God”; then they must see whether he desires to be alone or in company: if he prefers to be alone, they must give him an empty room, and if he prefers company, they must consort with him unceremoniously in a friendly and sociable manner. When he lays his head on his pillow at night the resident dervish ought to offer to wash his feet, but if the traveller should not allow him to do this and should say that he is not accustomed to it, the resident must not insist, for fear of causing him annoyance. Next day, he must offer him a bath and take him to the cleanest bath available and save his clothes from (becoming dirty in) the latrines of the bath, and not permit a strange attendant to wait upon him, but wait upon him zealously in order to make him clean of all stains, and scrape (bikhárad) his back and rub his knees and the soles of his feet and his hands: more than this he is not obliged to do.

And if the resident dervish has sufficient means, he should provide a new garment for his guest; otherwise, he need not trouble himself, but he should clean his guest’s clothes so that he may put them on when he comes out of the bath. If the traveller remains two or three days, he should be invited to visit any spiritual director or Imám who may be in the town, but he must not be compelled to pay such visits against his inclination, because those who seek God are not always masters of their own feelings; e.g., Ibráhím Khawwáṣ on one occasion refused to accompany Khiḍr, who desired his society, for he was unwilling that his feelings should be engaged by anyone except God. Certainly it is not right that a resident dervish should take a traveller to salute worldly men or to attend their entertainments, sick-beds, and funerals; and if a resident hopes to make travellers an instrument of mendicancy (álat-i gadá´í) and conduct them from house to house, it would be better for him to refrain from serving them instead of subjecting them to humiliation. Among all the troubles and inconveniences that I have suffered when travelling none was worse than to be carried off time after time by ignorant servants and impudent dervishes of this sort and conducted from the house of such and such a Khwája to the house of such and such a Dihqán, while, though apparently complaisant, I felt a great dislike to go with them. I then vowed that, if ever I became resident, I would not behave towards travellers with this impropriety.

Nothing derived from associating with ill-mannered persons is more useful than the lesson that you must endure their disagreeable behaviour and must not imitate it. On the other hand, if a travelling dervish becomes at his ease (munbasiṭ) with a resident and stays for some time and makes a worldly demand, the resident is bound immediately to give him what he wants; but if the traveller is an impostor and low-minded, the resident must not act meanly in order to comply with his impossible requirements, for this is not the way of those who are devoted to God. What business has a dervish to associate with devotees if he needs worldly things? Let him go to the market and buy and sell, or let him be a soldier at the sultan’s court. It is related that, while Junayd and his pupils were sitting occupied in some ascetic discipline, a travelling dervish came in. They exerted themselves to entertain him and placed food before him. He said: “I want such and such a thing besides this.” Junayd said to him: “You must go to the bazaar, for you are a man of the market, not of the mosque and the cell.” Once I set out from Damascus with two dervishes to visit Ibn al-Mu`allá,[171] who was living in the country near Ramla. On the way we arranged that each of us should think of the matter concerning which we were in doubt, in order that that venerable director might tell us our secret thoughts and solve our difficulties. I said to myself: “I will desire of him the poems and intimate supplications (munáját) of Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr (al-Ḥalláj).”

One of my companions said, “I will desire him to pray that my disease of the spleen (ṭiḥál) may become better;” and the other said, “I will wish for sweetmeat of different colours” (ḥalwá-yi ṣábúní). As soon as we arrived, Ibn al-Mu`allá commanded that a manuscript of the poems and supplications of Ḥusayn should be presented to me, and laid his hand on the belly of the invalid so that his illness was assuaged, and said to the other dervish: “Parti-coloured sweetmeat is eaten by soldiers (`awánán); you are dressed as a saint, and the dress of a saint does not accord with the appetite of a soldier. Choose one or the other.”

In short, the resident is not obliged to pay attention to the travelling dervish unless the latter’s attention is paid entirely to God. If he is devoted to his own interests, it is impossible that another should help him to gratify his selfishness, for dervishes are guides (ráhbarán), not brigands (ráhburán), to each other. So long as anyone perseveres in a selfish demand, his friend ought to resist it, but when he renounces it, then his friend ought to satisfy it. In the Traditions of the Apostle it is related that he made a brotherhood between Salmán (al-Fárisí) and Abú Dharr Ghifárí, both of whom were leading men among the People of the Veranda (ahl-i ṣuffa) and eminent spiritualists. One day, when Salmán came to visit Abú Dharr at his house, Abú Dharr’s wife complained to him that her husband neither ate by day nor slept by night. Salmán told her to fetch some food, and said to Abú Dharr: “O brother, I desire thee to eat, since this fasting is not incumbent on thee.” Abú Dharr complied. And at night Salmán said: “O brother, I beg thee to sleep: thy body and thy wife have a claim upon thee, as well as thy Lord.” Next day Abú Dharr went to the Apostle, who said: “I say the same thing as Salmán said yesterday: verily, thy body has a claim upon thee.” Inasmuch as Abú Dharr had renounced his selfish pleasures, Salmán persuaded him to gratify them. Whatever you do on this principle is sound and impregnable. Once, in the territories of `Iráq, I was restlessly occupied (tápákí míkardam) in seeking wealth and squandering it, and I had run largely into debt.

Everyone who wanted anything turned to me, and I was troubled and at a loss to know how I could accomplish their desires. An eminent person wrote to me as follows: “Beware lest you distract your mind from God by satisfying the wishes of those whose minds are engrossed in vanity. If you find anyone whose mind is nobler than your own, you may justly distract your mind in order to give peace to his. Otherwise, do not distract yourself, since God is sufficient for His servants.” These words brought me instant relief.

When a dervish chooses to travel, not to reside, he ought to observe the following rules. In the first place, he must travel for God’s sake, not for pleasure, and as he journeys outwardly, so he should flee inwardly from his sensual affections; and he must always keep himself in a state of purity and not neglect his devotions; and his object in travelling must be either pilgrimage or war (against infidels) or to see a (holy) site or to derive instruction or to seek knowledge or to visit a venerable person, a Shaykh, or the tomb of a saint; otherwise his journey will be faulty. And he cannot do without a patched frock and a prayer-rug and a bucket and a rope and a pair of shoes (kafsh) or clogs (na`layn) and a staff: the patched frock to cover his nakedness, the prayer-rug to pray on, the bucket to cleanse himself with, and the staff to protect him from attacks and for other purposes. Before stepping on the prayer-rug he must put on his shoes or clogs in a state of purity. If anyone carries other articles, for the sake of keeping the Sunna (Apostolic custom), such as a comb and nail-scissors and a needle and a little box of antimony (mukḥula), he does right. If, however, anyone provides himself with more utensils than those which have been mentioned, we have to consider in what station he is: if he is a novice every article will be a shackle and a stumbling-block and a veil to him, and will afford him the means of showing self-conceit, but if he is a firmly grounded adept he may carry all these articles and more. I heard the following story from Shaykh Abú Muslim Fáris b.

Ghálib al-Fárisí. “One day (he said) I paid a visit to Shaykh Abú Sa`íd b. Abi ´l-Khayr Faḍlalláh b. Muḥammad. I found him sleeping on a couch with four cushions (takhtí chahár-bálish), one of his legs thrown across the other; and he was dressed in fine Egyptian linen (diqqí Miṣrí). My garment was so dirty that it resembled leather, and my body was emaciated by austerities. On looking at Abú Sa`íd a feeling of scepticism overcame me. I said to myself: ‘He is a dervish, and so am I, yet he is in all this luxury and I in this sore tribulation.’ He immediately divined my thoughts and was aware of my vainglory. ‘O Abú Muslim,’ said he, ‘in what díwán have you read that a self-conceited man is a dervish? Since I see God in all things, God sets me on a throne, and since you see yourself in everything, God keeps you in affliction: my lot is contemplation, while yours is mortification. These are two stations on the Way to God, but God is far aloof from them both, and a dervish is dead to all stations and free from all states.’ On hearing these words my senses forsook me, and the whole world grew dark in my eyes. When I came to myself I repented, and he accepted my repentance. Then I said: ‘O Shaykh, give me leave to depart, for I cannot bear the sight of thee.’ He answered, ‘O Abú Muslim, you speak the truth;’ then he quoted this verse:—

The travelling dervish must always observe the custom of the Apostle, and when he comes to the house of a resident he should enter his presence respectfully and greet him; and he should first take off the shoe on his left foot, as the Apostle did; and when he puts his shoes on, he should first put on the shoe belonging to his right foot; and he should wash his right foot before his left; and he should perform two bowings of the head by way of salutation (in prayer) and then occupy himself with attending to the (religious) duties incumbent on dervishes. He must not in any case interfere with the residents, or behave immoderately towards anyone, or talk of the hardships which he may have suffered in travelling, or discourse on theology, or tell anecdotes, or recite traditions in company, for all this is a sign of self-conceit. He must be patient when he is vexed by fools and must tolerate their irksomeness for God’s sake, for in patience there are many blessings. If residents or their servants bid him go with them to salute or visit the townspeople, he must acquiesce if he can, but in his heart he ought to dislike paying such marks of respect to worldlings, although he should excuse the behaviour of his brethren who act thus. He must take care not to trouble them by making any unreasonable demand, and he must not drag them to the court of high officials with the purpose of seeking an idle pleasure for himself.

Travelling, as well as resident, dervishes must always, in companionship, endeavour to please God, and must have a good belief in each other, and not speak ill of any comrade face to face with him or behind his back, because true mystics in regarding the act see the Agent, and inasmuch as every human being, of whatever description he may be—faulty or faultless, veiled or illuminated—belongs to God and is His creature, to quarrel with a human act is to quarrel with the Divine Agent.

Men cannot dispense with nourishment, but moral virtue requires that they should not eat or drink in excess. Sháfi`í says: “He who thinks about that which goes into his belly is worth only that which comes out of it.” Nothing is more hurtful to a novice in Ṣúfiism than eating too much. I have read in the Anecdotes that Abú Yazíd was asked why he praised hunger so highly. He answered: “Because if Pharaoh had been hungry he would not have said, ‘I am your Supreme Lord,’ and if Qárún (Korah) had been hungry he would not have been rebellious.” Tha`laba[172] was praised by all so long as he was hungry, but when he ate his fill he displayed hypocrisy. Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) said: “In my judgment, a belly full of wine is better than one full of lawful food.” On being asked the reason of this he said: “When a man’s belly is filled with wine, his intellect is stupefied and the flame of lust is quenched, and people are secure from his hand and tongue; but when his belly is filled with lawful food he desires foolishness, and his lust waxes great and his lower soul rises to seek her pleasures.” The Shaykhs have said, describing the Ṣúfís: “They eat like sick men, and sleep like shipwrecked men, and speak like one whose children have died.”

It is an obligatory rule that they should not eat alone, but should unselfishly share their food with one another; and when seated at table they should not be silent, and should begin by saying “In God’s name”; and they should not put anything down or lift anything up in such a way as to offend their comrades, and they should dip the first mouthful in salt, and should deal fairly by their friends. Sahl b. `Abdalláh (al-Tustarí) was asked about the meaning of the verse: “Verily God enjoins justice and beneficence” (Kor. xvi, 92). He replied: “Justice consists in dealing fairly with one’s friend in regard to a morsel of food, and beneficence consists in deeming him to have a better claim to that morsel than yourself.” My Shaykh used to say: “I am astonished at the impostor who declares that he has renounced the world, and is anxious about a morsel of food.” Furthermore, the Ṣúfí should eat with his right hand and should look only at his own morsel, and while eating he should not drink unless he is extremely thirsty, and if he drinks he should drink only as much as will moisten his liver. He should not eat large mouthfuls, and should chew his food well and not make haste; otherwise he will be acting contrary to the custom of the Apostle, and will probably suffer from indigestion (tukhama). When he has finished eating, he should give praise to God and wash his hands.

If two or three or more persons belonging to a community of dervishes go to a dinner and eat something without informing their brethren, according to some Shaykhs this is unlawful and constitutes a breach of companionship, but some hold it to be allowable when a number of persons act thus in union with each other, and some allow it in the case of a single person, on the ground that he is not obliged to deal fairly when he is alone but when he is in company; consequently, being alone, he is relieved of the obligations of companionship and is not responsible for his act. Now, the most important principle in this matter is that the invitation of a dervish should not be refused, and that the invitation of a rich man should not be accepted. Dervishes ought not to go to the houses of rich men or beg anything of them: such conduct is demoralizing for Ṣúfís, because worldlings are not on confidential terms (maḥram) with the dervish. Much wealth, however, does not make a man “rich” (dunyá-dár), nor does little wealth make him “poor”. No one who acknowledges that poverty is better than riches is “rich”, even though he be a king; and anyone who disbelieves in poverty is “rich”, even though he be reduced to want. When a dervish attends a party he should not constrain himself either to eat or not to eat, but should behave in accordance with his feelings at the time (bar ḥukm-i waqt). If the host is a congenial person (maḥram), it is right that a married man (muta´ahhil) should condone a fault; and if the host is uncongenial, it is not allowable to go to his house.

God hath said: “And the servants of the Merciful are they who walk on the earth meekly” (Kor. xxv, 64). The seeker of God, as he walks, should know at each step he makes whether that step is against God or of God: if it is against God, he must ask for pardon, and if it is of God, he must persevere in it, that it may be increased. One day Dáwud Ṭá´í had taken some medicine. They said to him: “Go into the court of this house for a little while, in order that the good result of the medicine may become apparent.” He replied: “I am ashamed that on the Day of Judgment God should ask me why I made a few steps for my own selfish pleasure. God Almighty hath said: ‘And their feet shall bear witness of that which they used to commit’“ (Kor. xxxvi, 65). Therefore the dervish should walk circumspectly, with his head bowed in meditation (muráqabat), and not look in any direction but in front. If any person meets him on the way, he must not draw himself back from him for the sake of saving his dress, for all Moslems are clean, and their clothes too; such an act is mere conceit and self-ostentation. If, however, the person who meets him is an unbeliever, or manifestly filthy, he may turn from him unobtrusively. And when he walks with a number of people, he must not attempt to go in front of them, since that is an excess of pride; nor must he attempt to go behind them, since that is an excess of humility, and humility of which one is conscious is essentially pride.

He must keep his clogs and shoes as clean as he can by day in order that God, through the blessings thereof, may keep his clothes (clean) by night. And when one or more dervishes are with anyone, he should not stop on the way (to talk) with any person, nor should he tell that person to wait for him. He should walk quietly and should not hurry, else his walk will resemble that of the covetous; nor should he walk slowly, for then his walk will resemble that of the proud; and he should take steps of the full length (gám-i tamám nihad). In fine, the walk of the seeker of God should always be of such a description that if anyone should ask him whither he is going he should be able to answer decisively: ”Verily, I am going to my Lord: He will direct me” (Kor. xxxvii, 97). Otherwise his walking is a curse to him, because right steps (khaṭawát) proceed from right thoughts (khaṭarát): accordingly if a man’s thoughts are concentrated on God, his feet will follow his thoughts. It is related that Abú Yazíd said: “The inconsiderate walk (rawish-i bé muráqabat) of a dervish is a sign that he is heedless (of God), because all that exists is attained in two steps: one step away from self-interest and the other step firmly planted on the commandments of God.” The walk of the seeker is a sign that he is traversing a certain distance, and since proximity to God is not a matter of distance, what can the seeker do but cut off his feet in the abode of rest?

There is a great difference of opinion among the Shaykhs on this subject. Some hold that it is not permissible for a novice to sleep except when he is overpowered by slumber, for the Apostle said: “Sleep is the brother of Death,” and inasmuch as life is a benefit conferred by God, whereas death is an affliction, the former must be more excellent than the latter. And it is related that Shiblí said: “God looked upon me and said, ‘He who sleeps is heedless, and he who is heedless is veiled.’” Others, again, hold that a novice may sleep at will and even constrain himself to sleep after having performed the Divine commands, for the Apostle said: “The Pen does not record (evil actions) against the sleeper until he awakes, or against the boy until he reaches puberty, or against the madman until he recovers his wits.” When a man is asleep, people are secure from his mischief and he is deprived of his personal volition and his lower soul is prevented from gaining its desires and the Recording Angels cease to write; his tongue makes no false assertion and speaks no evil of the absent, and his will places no hope in conceit and ostentation; “he does not possess for himself either bane or boon or death or life or resurrection.” Hence Ibn `Abbás says: “Nothing is more grievous to Iblís than a sinner’s sleep; whenever the sinner sleeps, Iblís says, ‘When will he wake and rise up that he may disobey God?’” This was a point of controversy between Junayd and `Alí b. Sahl al-Iṣfahání.

The latter wrote to Junayd a very fine epistle, which I have heard, to the effect that sleep is heedlessness and rest is a turning away from God: the lover must not sleep or rest by day or by night, otherwise he will lose the object of his desire and will forget himself and his state and will fail to attain to God, as God said to David, “O David, he who pretends to love Me and sleeps when night covers him is a liar.” Junayd said in his reply to that letter: “Our wakefulness consists in our acts of devotion to God, whereas our sleep is God’s act towards us: that which proceeds from God to us without our will is more perfect than that which proceeds from us to God with our will. Sleep is a gift which God bestows on those who love Him.” This question depends on the doctrine of sobriety and intoxication, which has been fully discussed above. It is remarkable that Junayd, who was himself a “sober” man, here supports intoxication. Seemingly, he was enraptured at the time when he wrote and his temporary state may have expressed itself by his tongue; or, again, it may be that the opposite is the case and that sleep is actually sobriety, while wakefulness is actually intoxication, because sleep is an attribute of humanity, and a man is “sober” so long as he is in the shadow of his attributes: wakefulness, on the other hand, is an attribute of God, and when a man transcends his own attribute he is enraptured.

I have met with a number of Shaykhs who agree with Junayd in preferring sleep to wakefulness, because the visions of the saints and of most of the apostles occurred during sleep. And the Apostle said: “Verily, God takes pride in the servant who sleeps while he prostrates himself in prayer; and He says to His angels, ‘Behold My servant, whose spirit is in the abode of secret conversation (najwá) while his body is on the carpet of worship.’” The Apostle also said: “Whoever sleeps in a state of purification, his spirit is permitted to circumambulate the Throne and prostrate itself before God.” I have read in the Anecdotes that Sháh Shujá` of Kirmán kept awake for forty years. One night he fell asleep and saw God, and afterwards he used always to sleep in hope of seeing the same vision. This is the meaning of the verse of Qays of the Banú `Ámir[173]—

Other Shaykhs whom I have seen agree with `Alí b. Sahl in preferring wakefulness to sleep, because the apostles received their revelations and the saints their miracles while they were awake. One of the Shaykhs says: “If there were any good in sleep there would be sleep in Paradise,” i.e., if sleep were the cause of love and proximity to God, it would follow that there must be sleep in Paradise, which is the dwelling-place of proximity; since neither sleep nor any veil is in Paradise, we know that sleep is a veil. Those who are fond of subtleties (arbáb-i láṭá´if) say that when Adam fell asleep in Paradise Eve came forth from his left side, and Eve was the source of all his afflictions. They say also that when Abraham told Ishmael that he had been ordered in a dream to sacrifice him, Ishmael replied: “This is the punishment due to one who sleeps and forgets his beloved. If you had not fallen asleep you would not have been commanded to sacrifice your son.” It is related that Shiblí every night used to place in front of him a bowl of salt water and a needle for applying collyrium, and whenever he was about to fall asleep he would dip the needle in the salt water and draw it along his eyelids. I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, have met with a spiritual director who used to sleep after finishing the performance of his obligatory acts of devotion; and I have seen Shaykh Aḥmad Samarqandí, who was living at Bukhárá: during forty years he had never slept at night, but he used to sleep a little in the daytime. This question turns on the view taken of life and death.

Those who prefer death to life must prefer sleep to waking, while those who prefer life to death must prefer waking to sleep. Merit belongs, not to the man who forces himself to keep awake, but to the man who is kept awake. The Apostle, whom God chose and whom He raised to the highest rank, did not force himself either to sleep or to wake. God commanded him, saying: “Rise and pray during the night, except a small part: half thereof or less” (Kor. lxxiii, 2-3). Similarly, merit does not belong to the man who forces himself to sleep, but only to the man who is put to sleep. The Men of the Cave did not constrain themselves to sleep or to wake, but God threw slumber upon them and nourished them without their will. When a man attains to such a degree that his will no longer exists, and his hand is withdrawn from everything, and his thoughts are averted from all except God, it matters not whether he is asleep or awake: in either case he is full of honour. Now, as regards the sleep of the novice, he ought to deem that his first sleep is his last, and repent of his sins and satisfy all who have a claim against him; and he ought to perform a comely purification and sleep on his right side, facing the qibla; and having set his worldly affairs in order, he ought to give thanks for the blessing of Islam, and make a vow that if he should wake again he will not return to sin. One who has set his affairs in order while he is awake has no fear of sleep or of death.

A well-known story is told of a certain spiritual director, that he used to visit an Imám who was engrossed in maintaining his dignity and was a prey to self-conceit, and that he used to say to him: “O So-and-so, you must die.” This offended the Imám, for “why (he said) should this beggar be always repeating these words to me?” One day he answered: “I will begin to-morrow.” Next day when the spiritual director came in the Imám said to him: “O So-and-so, you must die.” He put down his prayer-rug and spread it out, and laid his head on it and exclaimed, “I am dead,” and immediately yielded up his soul. The Imám took warning, and perceived that this spiritual director had been bidding him prepare for death, as he himself had done. My Shaykh used to enjoin his disciples not to sleep unless overpowered by slumber, and when they had once awaked not to fall asleep again, since a second sleep is unlawful and unprofitable to those who seek God.

God hath commanded His servants to speak well, e.g. to acknowledge His lordship and to praise Him and to call mankind to His court. Speech is a great blessing conferred on Man by God, and thereby is Man distinguished from all other things. Some interpreters of the text, “We have honoured the sons of Adam” (Kor. xvii, 72), explain it as meaning “by the gift of speech”. Nevertheless, in speech there are also great evils, for the Apostle said: “The worst that I fear for my people is the tongue.” In short, speech is like wine: it intoxicates the mind, and those who begin to have a taste for it cannot abstain from it. Accordingly, the Ṣúfís, knowing that speech is harmful, never spoke except when it was necessary, i.e. they considered the beginning and end of their discourse; if the whole was for God’s sake, they spoke; otherwise they kept silence, because they firmly believed that God knows our secret thoughts (cf. Kor. xliii, 80). The Apostle said: “He who keeps silence is saved.” In silence there are many advantages and spiritual favours (futúḥ), and in speech there are many evils. Some Shaykhs have preferred silence to speech, while others have set speech above silence. Among the former is Junayd, who said: “Expressions are wholly pretensions, and where realities are established pretensions are idle.” Sometimes it is excusable not to speak although one has the will to do so, i.e. fear becomes an excuse for not speaking in spite of one’s having the will and the power to speak; and refusal to speak of God does not impair the essence of gnosis.

But at no time is a man excused for mere pretension devoid of reality, which is the principle of hypocrites. Pretension without reality is hypocrisy, and reality without pretension is sincerity, because “he who is grounded in eloquence needs no tongue to communicate with his Lord”. Expressions only serve to inform another than God, for God Himself requires no explanation of our circumstances, and others than God are not worth so much that we should occupy ourselves with them. This is corroborated by the saying of Junayd, “He who knows God is dumb,” for in actual vision (`iyán) exposition (bayán) is a veil. It is related that Shiblí rose up in Junayd’s meeting-place and cried aloud, “O my object of desire!” and pointed to God. Junayd said: “O Abú Bakr, if God is the object of your desire, why do you point to Him, who is independent of this? And if the object of your desire is another, God knows what you say: why do you speak falsely?” Shiblí asked God to pardon him for having uttered those words.

Those who put speech above silence argue that we are commanded by God to set forth our circumstances, for the pretension subsists in the reality, and vice versâ. If a man continues for a thousand years to know God in his heart and soul, but has not confessed that he knows God, he is virtually an infidel unless his silence has been due to compulsion. God has bidden all believers give Him thanks and praise and rehearse His bounties, and He has promised to answer the prayers of those who invoke Him. One of the Shaykhs has said that whoever does not declare his spiritual state is without any spiritual state, since the state proclaims itself.

I have read in the Anecdotes that one day when Abú Bakr Shiblí was walking in the Karkh quarter of Baghdád he heard an impostor saying: “Silence is better than speech.” Shiblí replied: “Thy silence is better than thy speech, but my speech is better than my silence, because thy speech is vanity and thy silence is an idle jest, whereas my silence is modesty and my speech is knowledge.” I, `Alí b. `Uthmán al-Jullábí, declare that there are two kinds of speech and two kinds of silence: speech is either real or unreal, and silence is either fruition or forgetfulness. If one speaks truth, his speech is better than his silence, but if one speaks falsehood, his silence is better than his speech. “He who speaks hits the mark or misses it, but he who is made to speak is preserved from transgression.” Thus Iblís said, “I am better than he” (Kor. xxxviii, 77), but Adam was made to say, “O Lord, we have done wrong unto ourselves” (Kor. vii, 22). The missionaries (dá`iyán) of this sect are permitted or compelled to speak, and shame or helplessness strikes them dumb: “he whose silence is shame, his speech is life.” Their speech is the result of vision, and speech without vision appears to them despicable. They prefer silence to speech so long as they are with themselves, but when they are beside themselves their words are written on the hearts of men. Hence that spiritual director said: “He whose silence to God is gold, his speech to another than God is gilt.”

The seeker of God, who is absorbed in servantship, must be silent, in order that the adept, who proclaims Lordship, may speak, and by his utterances may captivate the hearts of his disciples. The rule in speaking is not to speak unless bidden, and then only of the thing that is bidden; and the rule in silence is not to be ignorant or satisfied with ignorance or forgetful. The disciple must not interrupt the speech of spiritual directors, or let his personal judgment intrude therein, or use far-fetched expressions in answering them. He must never tell a lie, or speak ill of the absent, or offend any Moslem with that tongue which has made the profession of faith and acknowledged the unity of God. He must not address dervishes by their bare names or speak to them until they ask a question. It behoves the dervish, when he is silent, not to be silent in falsehood, and when he speaks, to speak only the truth. This principle has many derivatives and innumerable refinements, but I will not pursue the subject, lest my book should become too long.

God hath said: “They ask not men with importunity” (Kor. ii, 274). Any one of them who asks should not be repulsed, for God said to the Apostle: “Do not drive away the beggar” (Kor. xciii, 10). As far as possible they should beg of God only, for begging involves turning away from God to another, and when a man turns away from God there is danger that God may leave him in that predicament. I have read that a certain worldling said to Rábi`a `Adawiyya[174]: “O Rábi`a, ask something of me that I may procure what you wish.” “O sir,” she replied, “I am ashamed to ask anything of the Creator of the world; how, then, should I not be ashamed to ask anything of a fellow-creature?” It is related that in the time of Abú Muslim, the head of the (`Abbásid) propaganda, an innocent dervish was seized on suspicion of theft, and was imprisoned at Chahár Ṭáq.[175] On the same night Abú Muslim dreamed that the Apostle came to him and said: “God has sent me to tell you that one of His friends is in your prison. Arise and set him free.” Abú Muslim leapt from his bed, and ran with bare head and feet to the prison gate, and gave orders to release the dervish, and begged his pardon and bade him ask a boon. “O prince,” he replied, “one whose Master rouses Abú Muslim at midnight, and sends him to deliver a poor dervish from affliction—how should that one ask a boon of others?” Abú Muslim began to weep, and the dervish went on his way. Some, however, hold that a dervish may beg of his fellow-creatures, since God says: “They ask not men with importunity,” i.e. they may ask but not importune.