The themes that have been approached in this portfolio are numerous, and as such, detailing each of them in turn would be a task far beyond the scope of an introductory essay. My aim in this short introduction is to explore some of the most compelling ideas that we have encountered throughout this semester, and that have inspired my responses in this portfolio. Some of these themes have grown to carry a deeply personal and spiritual meaning as we have explored them in depth. For others, I understand them as vital components of particular Islamic subcultures and they have therefore played a vital role in my understanding of Islam as a doctrine that lends itself to an infinite variety of interpretations. It is perhaps this fundamental understanding that Islam does not have any one defined “correct” interpretation that is my greatest take-home from this course. I have grown to be deeply suspicious of any attempt to categorize any view or belief as the correct Islamic stance on a given issue. As I now understand, Islam as a doctrine is a deeply individual and personal experience for the average Muslim, and though there is a pronounced emphasis on the role of communal unity in the faith, the interpretation of the religion must be recognized as the result of personal reflection and inquiry. Through my creative responses, I have aimed to undertake personal reflection on the meanings of these doctrines and have often discovered through the result of artistic endeavor aspects of the beliefs that were not apparent before. As such, the use of art has been for me a vital tool in the exploration of these themes and in the expression of my findings.
1)The Role of the Written Word in Islam
One of the most significant themes that we have explored through the course of the semester is the enormous emphasis that is placed in the Islamic tradition on the importance of literature, textual reference, and scriptural authority, all of which can be broadly classified under the label of the “written word”. Perhaps the greatest source of spiritual authority in Islam is the Quran, and it could be argued that it is from the book itself that Muhammad (pbuh) draws his spiritual significance – he is first and foremost the messenger to whom the scripture was revealed. The Quran however is not restricted to being a written text. As K. Nelson makes clear in the article “The Sound of the Divine in Daily Life”, the greatest exposure that many Muslims will have to the scripture is not through the reading of the text itself but rather through the listening of its recitation in a seemingly infinite number of everyday scenarios. What is interesting, however, is that the importance of the written word in the Islamic tradition extends far beyond the Quran or revealed scripture alone. Perhaps the most distinctive and easily recognized of Islamic art forms, calligraphy, is at its most basic and most rudimentary level a representation of the written word. In exploring the spiritual significance of the calligraphic art form, I discovered the immense symbolism that is concealed in plain sight in this artistic practice. Any Muslim that grows up in a Muslim community grows so accustomed to seeing the characteristic curves of the various calligraphic styles that the verses themselves that are being rendered into works of art fade into the background. In exploring the spiritual theory that lies behind calligraphy I discovered the immense philosophical implications of the craft. In my creative response entitled “Nun wa al-Qalm” I explore these philosophical and spiritual implications by employing the idea that the letters that compose the Arabic script themself are considered primordial. The Islamic creation story featuring Adam and the serpent is not unlike the Judeo-Christian creation myth, however, many Islamic traditions will also feature stories of the primordial time before the existence of the created realm. In these traditions, the letters feature significantly as the rudimentary units of the divine prelapsarian language. According to Abu al-Abbas Ahmed al-Bhuni, “letters arose from the light in the pen that inscribed the Grand Destiny on the Sacred Tablet”. According to another tradition, the angels were created according to the name and numbers of the letters. There is also a custom of personifying the letters themselves and endowing them with agency; one tradition for example holds that the letter Alif prostrated himself to God and was rewarded by being included in His name. Significantly, the Quran states in both Surah Yusuf and Ashura that it has deliberately been revealed as an Arabic text, suggesting that the language itself has a particular importance. When exploring the elevated role that language, particularly in its written form, plays in the spiritual understanding of primordial existence in the Islamic tradition, I could not help but notice the analogy that can be drawn between the existence of the primordial intellect in Islam and the “Om” in Hinduism. It appears that both belief structures cater to the same basic human need to understand the primal origins of man, and more significantly, the origins of the human intellect that define the human experience.
Islamic cultures have developed a keen appreciation for the literary arts, particularly poetry. Different Islamic subcultures have precipitated different poetic forms. In my creative responses I have employed two of these forms: the rubayi structure which I have used to compose a “naat” or ode to the prophet, and the ghazal form which I have used to create a traditional love ballad. As we learnt during our exploration of these poetic forms, the genius of the poets does not necessarily lie in their ability to present novel content but rather their ability to represent the expected content in an unexpected manner, while remaining confined to the literary strictures of each form. There is, I now recognize, something to be said for the pre-Islamic origin of many modern-day poetic forms that are conventionally associated with the Islamic tradition. The ‘hanging-odes’ which were hung on the walls of the ka’ba before the advent of Islam employed poetic forms that subsist today without significant alteration. As such, poetry represents a historical relic that has, over the centuries, been endowed with an Islamic identity but has pre-Islamic origins.
2 – Pre-Destination and Divine Decree
The notion of predestination or destiny is perhaps one of the most complex concepts of the Islamic faith, and indeed of any religious doctrine in which it features. It would be wrong for me to claim that it is a concept that I have been able to gain a complete understanding of over the course of the semester, but I can claim with confidence that I now much better appreciate the full complexity and intricacy of the principles at play. The core questions that come to mind when grappling with the concept of predestination are as follows: If my actions are pre-determined, why am I held accountable for them? If God already knew that I would have to suffer in Hell for my sins, why did he create me in the first place? If my actions are already written into the “sacred tablet”, do I really have free will? Perhaps my greatest understanding of these concepts came from a study of the story of Hussain’s martyrdom and its prominence in the Shiite tradition. In reading Sir Lewis Pelly’s play adaptation of the Battle of Karbala, perhaps the most striking element of Hussain’s characterization was his apparent desire for martyrdom, and the ensuing spiritual reward associated with it. When the leader of the jinn, Jaffar, approaches Hussain and offers to obliterate the opposing army to allow Hussain and his family to leave the battleground unharmed, Hussain refuses him. Hussain’s choice is significant because it demonstrates that while God may know, through his omniscient nature, what Hussain would choose, God himself did not make the decision for him. Rather, Hussain was presented with the opportunity to escape his death, and made the informed choice of going onto the battlefield. Thus, God’s prior knowledge and decree of Hussain’s martyrdom did not interfere with Hussain’s ability to make his choice. This essential nuance of the concept of predestination was something that I hoped to explore in my interpretation of the taziya through dance. The choreography of the dance, especially in regards to the movements of Hussain, was created keeping in mind the complexity of his decision to take on the battle with Shimar. His decision was deliberate and conscious but also the result of a greater spiritual pull that drew him towards his purpose.
3 – The Relationship Between Man and Allah
In the later part of the course when we engaged more specifically with Sufi ideologies and the foundational concepts of Islamic mysticism, I developed an appreciation of the relationship between God and human beings that was entirely novel to my understanding of the faith. In my response entitled ‘Ana al-Haq’, I hope to explore the notion that God as an entity is not external to the human consciousness but rather that he is an inherent part of the human being. This notion has important existentialist implications, because it changes our understanding of the human purpose from the duty to worship to the duty to find reunion with the divine entity. The idea is immensely appealing on a basic human level while at the same time bearing a uniquely Islamic philosophy. The idea that life itself is a testing ground for the hereafter is core to the Islamic tradition; Sufi doctrine interprets the same belief with the modification that success in the “test” results in the reunification with the divine and attainment of the state of wajd, or perpetual ecstasy. As Muhammad Iqbal highlights in his Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa, the position of the human being in relation to God is a very particular one. Humans are depicted as being higher than the angels, they are superior creations and therefore the angels are commanded to bow down before Adam in the Islamic creation myth. What exactly makes human beings superior is vital: it is the fact that Adam was taught the names of all things, and as such shared the knowledge of God. What is particularly intriguing about this aspect of the Islamic tradition is that it makes knowledge itself a divine and sacred attribute, capable of elevating one creature over another. As human beings have been endowed with knowledge and the capacity of rational thought, they are granted the status of “ashraf-al-makhluqat”, or the “highest of creation”. For the Sufi tradition, this elevated position is also a consequence of the primordial relationship of love that was established between human beings (the created) and God (the creator). Though the human being has been separated from his beloved (i.e God) by being sent down to the terrestrial world, he still enjoys the privilege of addressing his complaint directly to God, much as a lover would address their beloved.
Over the course of the semester, we also developed an understanding of what is understood by the notion of “knowledge”. There is an important distinction to be recognized between “ilm” and “ma’rafa”, though the nuance that distinguishes them is lost in translation. Whereas the former deals more with a textbook understanding of the faith associated with “Aql” (rationality) and the ritualistic elements of Islam, the latter is acquired through experience of the faith over the course of the Sufi’s lifetime and cannot be taught or learnt. The Sufi apprentice thus acquires ‘ilm’ through his readings and study and then is granted Ma’rafa through the course of his lifetime. Ultimately, knowledge of the divine reality is what guides the Sufi on his path towards reunification. It is hard to ignore, given the role of knowledge as a guide to the spiritual path, the imagery of the story of Miraj in which Gibreel acts as Muhammad’s guide to the heavens, showing him the way to the presence of God. Rational thought however can only carry Muhammad so far, and ultimately Gibreel (a representation of the ‘Aql’) must leave Muhammad to his faith and love of God which allows him to have communion with Him.