Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam

1. Awbahi, “Risala-yi musafaha,” 475.The text in question does not include the name of the author, but the editor argues convincingly that it is Awbahi on the basis of very strong contextual evidence. Awbahi’s formulation regarding the handshake reflects the combination of two different strands connected to transmission of hadith that seem to have been current in Central Asia in the later medieval period. The notion of long-lived companions ratifying statements ascribed to Muhammad originated early in Islamic history and remained relevant through the centuries (cf. G. H. A. Juynboll, “Muʿammar,” s.v. EI²). Acquiring salvation through shaking Muhammad’s hand was a popular idea in North Africa from the fifteenth century onward as well. The only scholar to have investigated the theme suggests that it was an extension of a hadith from the canonical collection of Tirmidhi where Muhammad guarantees salvation for someone who sees the person who had seen him (cf. Katz, Dreams, Sufism, and Sainthood, 224–31). A systematic excavation of hadith literature to trace the text cited by Awbahi is beyond the scope of my present interest. Apart from the short work on handshakes, Awbahi is best known in history as the possible author of a dictionary of Persian poetic terms (cf. Awbahi, Farhang-i tuhfat al-ahbab). For arguments against Awbahi’s authorship of this work see Sadiqi, “Aya Farhang-i tuhfat al-ahbab az Hafiz-i Awbahi ast?”

2. For a useful discussion of the significance of paying attention to the interlacing of various measures of time in historiography see Koselleck, “Time and History.” For Islamic contexts, this theme has received some attention with a focus on Arabic sources (Azmeh, Times of History). I hope to expand my brief comment on the question of time here in forthcoming work.

3. For a lucid account of historiographic debates on these issues see Clark, History, Theory, Text.

4. Nawshahi, “Du risala dar isnad-i musafaha,” 477–79.

5. For literature pertaining to the deployment of this idea in early Islamic history see C. Gilliot, “Tabakat,” s.v. EI².

6. We have one textual witness to Awbahi exercising his intercessory prerogative. In his dictionary of poets, Nisari writes that he shook hands with Awbahi at the latter’s deathbed, when he gave him his work on handshakes and advised him to memorize it (Nisari, Muzakkir-i ahbab, 180).

7. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 62–63. The text cites 830/1426–27 as the year of the meeting, which surely represents a scribal error since ʿAli Hamadani died in 1385 and the author of the text in question is himself said to have died in 797/1394–95.

8. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 353b–356a. There is some confusion in the dates here since, if he was twenty-two in 713 AH, ʿAli Hamadani would have been an improbable ninety-five at the time of his death in 786.

9. Nawshahi, “Du risala dar isnad-i musafaha,” 477–79.

10. Palaspush, “Risala-yi musafaha,” 482.

11. Ibn al-Karbalaʾi, Rawzat al-jinan va jannat al-janan, 2:170–72. Aside from Jaʿfar Badakhshi’s Khulasat al-manaqib, all Kubravi sources I have mentioned belong to the Zahabi branch of the Kubraviya that goes back to the prominent master Sayyid ʿAbdallah Barzishabadi (d. 1468).

12. Cf. Arjomand, “From the Editor.”

13. Some studies on other Persianate contexts that are in part comparable to my perspective include: Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur; Lawrence, Notes from a Distant Flute; Le Gall, Culture of Sufism; Suvorova, Muslim Saints of South Asia; Wolper, Cities and Saints.

14. For a perceptive discussion of the modern creation of “Sufism” as a discrete aspect of Islamic societies see Ernst, Shambhala Guide to Sufism, 1–25.

15. The prescriptive nature of tasawwuf within Sufi usage is evident from the fact that all definitions of it in major early Arabic sources revolve around the following three issues: tasawwuf represents cultivating an ascetic lifestyle combined with yearning for God; it connotes conducting oneself with proper manners (adab)—including elements such as humility, patience, generosity, etc.—in the course of all one’s social interactions with respect to those who are above or below one in spiritual attainment; and it indicates acquiring intuitive knowledge, which cannot be learned from books, and progress along stations that draw one closer to God (cf. ʿAjam, ed., Mawsuʿat mustalahat, 177–84). These are all recommendations for behavior rather than neutral descriptions of a mode of life.

16. My use of the term Sufism is relatable to what Jonathan Z. Smith has advocated about religion in general. He argues that religion “is not a native term; it is a term created by scholars for their intellectual purposes and therefore is theirs to define. It is a second-order, generic concept that plays the same role in establishing a disciplinary horizon that a concept such as ‘language’ plays in linguistics or ‘culture’ plays in anthropology. There can be no disciplined study of religion without such a horizon” (Relating Religion, 193–94).

17. Cf. http://www.ibnarabisociety.org/. For Rumi’s place in contemporary Western culture see Lewis, Rumi Past and Present.

18. For a recent example, see Ishaan Tharoor, “Can Sufism Defuse Terrorism?” Time, July 22, 2009. For some detailed studies of these issues, see Dressler, Geaves, and Klinkhammer, Sufis in Western Society.

19. Cf. Masuzawa, Invention of World Religions, 197–206; De Jong and Radtke, Islamic Mysticism Contested.

20. Trimingham’s Sufi Orders in Islam continues to be the standard source to refer to these Islamic institutions despite its considerable tendency toward essentialism and excessive schematization. In this book, I avoid the term order because of the Christian baggage it brings and hope that some of what I am suggesting about the way these networks functioned will supplant Trimingham’s representations.

21. For overviews of this political environment with attention to religious and cultural issues see Bernardini, Mémoire et propagande à l’epoque timouride; Manz, Power, Politics, and Religion in Timurid Iran; Subtelny, Timurids in Transition; Jackson and Lockhart, Cambridge History of Iran.

22. For a number of different Sufi definitions of the awliyaʾ and walaya (Persian: valayat) in classical Arabic sources, see ʿAjam, Mawsuʿat mustalahat, 1051–59.

23. See, particularly: Radtke, Concept of Sainthood in Early Sufism; Chodkiewicz, Seal of the Saints; Cornell, The Realm of the Saint, and McGregor, Sanctity and Mysticism in Medieval Egypt.

24. For recent surveys of the study of embodiment see Lock and Furquhar, eds., Beyond the Body Proper, and Latimer and Schillmeier, Un/knowing Bodies.

25. For a recent illuminating exploration of how these issues have figured in philosophical and literary discourses, see Heller-Roazen, Inner Touch.

26. For a more extended treatment of my views on how the body matters in Islamic studies, see Bashir, “Body.”

27. For an exploration of this theme see Stern, “Dystopian Anxieties Versus Utopian Ideals.”

28. Turner, “The Body in Western Society,” 17.

29. Langer, Merleau-Ponty’s “Phenomenology of Perception,” 32. My understanding of Merleau-Ponty’s view of the body is guided by Langer’s commentary and Kelly, “Merleau-Ponty on the Body.” For useful critiques of Merleau-Ponty see Leder, “Flesh and Blood”; Shusterman, “The Silent, Limping Body of Philosophy”; and Butler, “Sexual Ideology and Phenomenological Description.”

30. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenology of Perception, 88–102. See also Heller-Roazen, Inner Touch, 253–70.

31. Langer, Merleau-Ponty’ s “Phenomenology of Perception,”34.

32. In his own somewhat more abstruse formulation, Bourdieu equates habitus to “systems of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures … objectively adapted to their goals without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary to attain them and, being all this, collectively orchestrated without being the product of the orchestrating action of a conductor” (Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 72).

34. Spiegel, “History, Historicism,” 77–78.

36. Cf. de Certeau, Writing of History.

37. For a perspective that does presume that all stories about Islamic saintly figures across time periods and geographical contexts can be treated together, see Renard, Friends of God, and Renard, ed., Tales of God’s Friends. I find this approach analytically and historically untenable and see it as being too closely tied to the promotion of particular Islamic perspectives to allow for an adequately critical assessment of materials.

38. Persianate Sufi hagiography was written in two forms: collections of short notices containing pithy lessons, such as Farid ad-Din ʿAttar’s classic Tazkirat al-awliyaʾ and ʿAbd ar-Rahman Jami’s Nafahat al-uns; and works devoted to individuals or lineages that provide extensive biographical details. This book is based primarily on the significant number of texts of the second variety produced during the period 1300–1500. For earlier Persian works of this variety see Ibn al-Munavvar, Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness; Moayyad and Lewis, The Colossal Elephant and His Spiritual Feats; Mahmud b. Usman, Vita des Scheich Abu Ishaq al-Kazaruni; Arberry, “The Biography of Shaikh Abu Ishaq al-Kazaruni.”

39. I should acknowledge that many sources I am utilizing remain to be treated carefully as parts of particular textual lineages and that some of my contextual comments may need revision as specialized scholarly works are published in the coming years. I hope that my thematic treatments in this book will prove useful for such efforts by highlighting the works’ potential as sources for Islamic history.

40. For recent treatments of these questions see Grabar, Mostly Miniatures; and Roxburgh, The Persian Album. The paintings I cite belong to Timurid, Turkoman, and Safavid styles. In my analyses, I focus on the paintings’ representational content alone with citations to studies that situate them with respect to historical and formalistic concerns.

41. In this context see Renard, Friends of God; Amri, Les saints en islam; and Kugle, Sufis and Saints’ Bodies. These studies contain much valuable information and analysis, with the more or less explicit aim of promoting the cause of Sufis in comparison with other Islamic groups.

1. The division of the cosmos into interior and exterior aspects is neither unique to Islam nor limited to Sufism within Islam (cf. Hannegraf, Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism). Besides Sufism, Shiʿism in its Twelver, Ismaʿili, and Ghulat forms represents the other prominent Islamic tradition rooted in the apparent/hidden difference. Sufism and Shiʿism have a lot in common and a kind of rapproachment between them occurred in precisely the period that is the main focus of this book. Shiʿism is distinguished from Sufism by a genealogical claim that vests knowledge of the interior world as well as religious and political authority in certain lines of descent from Muhammad. For the overlap between Sufism and Shiʿism in Persianate societies, see Babayan, Mystics, Monarchs, and Messiahs, and Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions.

2. Anvar, Risala-yi suʾal va javab, in Kulliyat-i Qasim-i Anvar, 390.

3. Cf. Abul Fadl Mohsin Ebrahim, “Biology as the Creation and Stages of Life,” s.v. EQ.

4. Musallam, “The Human Embryo in Arabic Scientific and Religious Thought,” 37. The acceptance of this idea meant rejecting Aristotle’s theory that only male semen causes conception and that the female contribution to the embryo is limited to “passive” menstrual blood.

6. For the significance of this work in Islamic medical history see Gul A. Russell, “Ebn Elyas, Mansur b. Mohammad,” s.v. EIr, and Newman, “Tasrih-i Mansuri.”

7. For Lahiji, see Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions, 173–75. The Gulshan-i raz itself has been translated into English (Shabistari, The Garden of Mystery).

8. Lahiji, Mafatih al-iʿjaz, 207-9. This description is very close to what Basim Musallam describes from the work of the Hanbalite scholar Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350) (Musallam, “The Human Embryo in Arabic Scientific and Religious Thought,” 40–41).

9. Lahiji, Mafatih al-iʿjaz, 210.

10. For a general description of the history and ideology of the Hurufi sect, see Bashir, Fazlallah Astarabadi and the Hurufis.

11. Anonymous, Risala, 102b-104a. This work is a summary of Fazlallah Astarabadi’s ideas, found in different forms in works such as Javidannama, ʿArshnama, etc.

12. Hurufi comparison between reading the body and the Quran hinges also on wordplay characteristic of the movement. The word jild means both skin and the cover or binding of a book, following from the fact that such bindings were usually made of leather.

13. It is interesting to note that, in contrast with human reproduction, which requires two parents, two major Sufi hagiographical works relate the idea that Iblis, the devil, generates offspring through intercourse with itself. Iblis is depicted as having a penis on one thigh and a vagina on the other, which copulate to bring forth more members of the species that go out and corrupt the world (Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 156; Safi, Rashahat, 1:290).

14. Parsa, Fasl al-khitab, 358–59. Parsa’s wide-ranging erudition in the Islamic sciences is evident from the surviving information about his library: Muminov and Ziyadov, “L’horizon intellectuel d’un érudit”; Dodkhudoeva, “La bibliothèque de Khwâja Mohammad Pârsâ.”

15. For an extended discussion of these issues see Lahiji, Mafatih al-iʿjaz, 404–12.

16. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat va misbah al-ʿinayat, 93. A similar description of the spirit’s imprisonment in the body is given in an influential Sufi guidebook by Najm ad-Din Razi Daya (d. 1256–67) that was a standard textbook for Sufi training during the later medieval period (Daya, Mirsad, 111–25, and, The Path of God’s Bondsmen, 132–48).

17. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 152.

18. Hamadani, “Risala-yi darvishiyya,” 490.

20. Safi, Rashahat, 2:484.

21. Cf. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 215–16. For background on the concept of the imaginal world and its later elaborations in Islamic thought, see Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions, 117–19; Rahman, “Dream, Imagination, and ʿAlam al-mithal”; and Corbin, Alone with the Alone: Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ʿArabi.

22. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 162–63.

23. Cf. Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God, 353.

24. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 174.

25. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 26b–27b. For the provenance of this work, see De-Weese, An “Uvaysi” Sufi in Timurid Mawarannahr, 14–20.

26. For the details of Nurbakhsh’s ideas on this issue and their repercussions in the historical context, see Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions, 97–102.

27. Mushaʿshaʿ’s theories about the body as a veil derive from views earlier expressed in Shiʿi sects known as the Exaggerators (Ghulat). For references to such notions, see Bashir, “The Imam’s Return.”

28. In addition to Nurbakhsh and the Mushaʿshaʿ, the ideology of the Ahl-i Haqq sect that took concrete shape in this period in Iran contains full-fledged belief in metempsychosis, according to which each spirit can have up to seventy-two different corporeal manifestations. For a review of literature on this sect see Bashir, “Between Mysticism and Messianism,” 60–73.

29. The term nafs is also often translated as “soul,” a usage that is better suited to discussions on Islamic philosophical discourses. See, for example, Druart, “The Human Soul’s Individuation”; Black, “Psychology.”

30. For an array of Sufi statements on nafs, see ʿAjam, Mawsuʿat mustalahat, 969–89. For variant understanding ofnafs in Islamic thought more generally see I. R. Netton, “Nafs,” s.v. EI.

31. Kashani, Lataʾif al-iʿlam fi isharat ahl al-ilham, 568–69.

32. For a substantiation of this theme in Persianate Sufism during the period before the centuries that concern me, see Ballanfat, “Théorie des organes spirituels chez Yûsuf Hamadânî.”

33. Anvar, Risala-yi suʾal va javab,388–89.

34. Daya, Mirsad, 189–90, and The Path of God’s Bondsmen, 203.

35. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 183.

36. Bukhari, Maslak al-ʿarifin, 103a–b. For the significance of this work, see Paul, “Maslak al-ʿarifin.”

37. Daya, Mirsad, 192–93, and The Path of God’s Bondsmen, 205–6.

38. Ibid., 195–98; ibid., 208–10.

39. Such mappings of the body do appear in manuals dealing with poetic usages of the body. See, for example, the translation of Sharaf ad-Din b. Muhammad Rami’s Anis al-ʿushshaq in Huart, Anîs el-ʿochchâq.

40. For the ideology behind this substitution see Bashir, Fazlallah Astarabadi, 69–73. The correspondence between the lam-alif and the human form figures in aspects of Islamic figurative art as well (cf. Grabar, Mediation of Ornament, 86–89).

41. Ishaq, Risala. Bektashi Sufis in the Ottoman Empire who were influenced by the Hurufis from the sixteenth century onward used these ideas to develop a form of figural art in which human bodies were constructed out of the letters of the names of important religious beings such as God, Muhammad, ʿAli, Hasan, and Husayn. For examples of such figures, see Zarcone, Secret et sociétés secrètes en Islam; Atalay, Bektashilik ve Edebiyati.

42. Mourad, La Physiognomonie arabe, 60–61. For general discussions of Islamic ideas about physiognomy, see the introduction to this work and, more recently, Hoyland, “Physiognomy in Islam.”

43. Mourad, La Physiognomonie arabe, 6–7.

44. Parsa, Risala-yi qudsiyya, 20.

45. Nurbakhsh, Kitab-i insan-nama, 8a, 11b–12a. For six other manuscripts of this work see Bashir, “Between Mysticism and Messianism,” 261.

46. Nurbakhsh, Kitab-i insan-nama, 9a–11a.

48. Ibid., 23b–25a.

49. For greater context for understanding this painting see Milstein, “Sufi Elements in Late Fifteenth-Century Herat Painting,” 366.

1. Corporeal management as mandated by law has been the subject of a number of recent studies. Particularly useful examples include Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger”; Katz, Body of Text; and Maghen, Virtues of the Flesh.

2. Among Persianate Sufi groups, Naqshbandis are well known for emphasizing their commitment to the shariʿa in their internal rhetoric. My reading of the material does not mark them as being different from most others in this respect and my choice here has to do with the strength of the material to illustrate the point alone.

3. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 325.

4. For the relationship between Naqshband, Parsa, and other masters who formed part of this prominent Sufi circle see Paul, Doctrine and Organization.

5. Parsa, Fasl al-khitab, 305.

6. Ibid., 309–10. A similar explanation for the relationship between the intellect and the shariʿa is given also in Jaʿfar Badakhshi’s hagiography of ʿAli Hamadani. Here the shaykh is supposed to have said that the intellect is like food and shariʿa is like medicine; both are necessary for people to stay alive and get to their religious destinations (Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 109). The editor’s note states this formulation can be traced to works by Muhammad Ghazzali and Ibn al-ʿArabi.

7. Bukhari, Maslak al-ʿarifin, 73b.

8. Ibid., 13b–14a.

10. Charkhi, Kitab-i maqamat va slisila-yi Khwaja Naqshband, 146a.

11. For reviews of legal literature on ablutions see Katz, “The Study of Islamic Ritual”; and Maghen, “Much Ado About Wuduʾ.”

12. Charkhi, Kitab-i maqamat va slisila-yi Khwaja Naqshband, 150b–152a. Such a recommendation is obviously quite problematic in the case of women, since menstruation and bleeding following parturition are involuntary processes. Charkhi clearly presumes the standard reader to be male, for whom the full bath is necessary only after ejaculation.

13. Ibid., 154a–155a.

14. Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 457.

15. Ardabili, Safvat as-safa, 975–76.

16. Safi, Rashahat, 1:355–56.

17. The great Sufi theoretician Ibn al-ʿArabi is an important exception to this statement. For his extended explanations of the various Islamic rituals, see his own at-Tanazzulat al-Mawsiliyya, and Chodkiewicz, An Ocean Without Shore, 109–115.

18. Ishaq, Risala, 76a.

19. Bukhari, Maslak al-ʿarifin, 30b.

20. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 10b–11a.

21. For issues pertaining to the use of asceticism as a category in the study of religions see Clark, “The Ascetic Impulse in Religious Life” and Flood, Ascetic Self.

22. For a full consideration of the manuscript that contains this painting, see Soucek, “The New York Public Library Makhzan al-asrar.”

23. For further contextualization of this image, see Soudavar, Arts of the Persian Courts, 97. For the possible iconographic significance of the doorway in this painting, see the discussion of figure 1.2 in chapter 1.

24. The phenomenological basis for the relationship between pain and religious endeavors is discussed in Glucklich, Sacred Pain. For other treatments of this theme in Sufi literature see Feuillebois-Pierunek, “La maîtrise du corps”; and Ferhat, “Le saint et son corps.”

25. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 49.

26. See, for example, Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 106.

27. Safi, Rashahat, 2:400, 407; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 112.

28. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 8–11. Balyani’s inclination toward severe austerity is also reflected in a letter to a disciple attributed to him that recommends absolute abjection in front of the master and complete denial of all pleasures and pastimes other than the Sufi path (cf. Balyani, “Maktub-i Amin ad-Din Kazaruni beh Darvish ʿAli Hajji Rashid,” in Muhaddis, Twenty Philosophical-Mystical Texts in Persian and Arabic, 121–24).

29. Vaʿiz, Maqsad al-iqbal-i sultaniyya, 48.

30. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 41; Niʿmatullahi, Risala, 165; Vaʿizi, Risala da siyar-i Hazrat Shah NiʿmatullahVali, 284.

31. Niʿmatullahi, Risala, 159. A similar ability to maintain the state of ritual purity is reported for Amir Kulal’s son ʿUmar as well (Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 54b).

32. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 29.

34. This master is also reputed to have practiced severe asceticism during his stay in Mecca while performing the hajj (cf. ibid., 45–46).

35. Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends.

36. This painting is dated to the middle of the sixteenth century. However, it is based on earlier prototypes, including one attributed to Bihzad, circa 1480–85 (cf. Bahari, Bihzad, 56).

37. For a recent assessment of the sources available for understanding antinomian Sufi groups in the Persianate sphere that includes numerous samples, see Kadkani, Qalandariyya dar tarikh.

38. Farsi, Manaqib-i Jamal ad-Din Savi, 31, 43, 48–50.

40. For more detailed evaluations of antinomian Sufism along this vein, see Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends; Watenpaugh, “Deviant Dervishes”; and Ewing, Arguing Sainthood.

41. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 195–96.

42. For a general review of zikr as a Sufi practice see: Ernst, Shambhala Guide to Sufism, 81–119; Netton, Sufi Ritual.

43. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 145; Charkhi, Kitab-i maqamat va slisila-yi Khwaja Naqshband, 156b. The historical picture of Khwajagani-Naqshbandi positions on zikr is quite complex and the product of gradual evolution involving much internal debate and contestation. The silent zikr eventually became the most prevalent practice, based on the example of Naqshband himself. However, for earlier advocacy of silent zikr among the Khwajagan, see Bukhari, Maslak al-ʿarifin, 47a. Naqshband’s perspective on zikr and other matters of Sufi practice is traceable to the early Sufi movement called the Malamatiyya or the “Path of Blame,” whose members shunned public affirmation of their religious vocation and sometimes sought active condemnation from society to prove that they had given up care for the material world. For Naqshband’s possible indebtedness to this perspective see Algar, “Éléments de provenance Malamati.” For the practice of vocal zikr among branches of the Khwajagan not deriving from Naqshband see DeWeese, “The Legitimation of Baha’ ad-Din Naqshband.”

44. Safi, Rashahat, 1:43–44.

45. Ibid., 1:129. For the translation of a later, and somewhat different, description of the Naqshbandi zikr that is clearer about its referents to human physiology, see Netton, Sufi Ritual, 80.

46. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 22a–b.

47. Ibid., 103b–104a.

48. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 146. As reported in a later work, Naqshband’s concern with numbers in this instance pertained both to keeping track of the times one did the zikr and the number of times the formula was repeated in a single breath (Safi, Rashahat, 1:48).

49. Safi, Rashahat, 1:87.

50. Ibid., 1:164; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 202.

51. Safi, Rashahat, 1:328–29.

52. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 42–43. A later hagiography devoted to Hamadani gives the story differently: the author states that Hamadani first had the dream about Muhammad and then saw his teacher performing the zikr when he went to him seeking an interpretation. The eventual result is the same in both versions in that Hamadani ends up as a disciple of Mazdaqani (Badakhshi, Manqabat a-javahir, 349a–350a). It is worth noting that evidence from Hamadani’s own works is divided on whether he preferred the silent or the vocal zikr. One work advocates the silent zikr (“Risala-yi zikriyya,” 540), while the Risala dar bayan-i adab-i mubtadi va taliban-i hazrat-i samadi gives the practice as in Badakhshi’s description (MS. Add. 1684, British Library, London, 202a). These varying opinions were a point of discussion among later generations of Hamadani’s lineage (cf. Badakhshi, Manqabat a-javahir, 397a, 423b).

53. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 101. For citations for other versions of the Kubravi zikr, see Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions, 140.

54. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 197.

56. H. T. Norris, “The Mirʾat al-talibin,” plate 2 (facsimile). My translation of the text differs from that given by Norris (62–63).

57. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 46–48.

58. Hamadani, “Risala-yi zikriyya,” 542. The notion of competition between the senses is a theme represented in imaginary dialogues between them as well. See, for example, Tabrizi, “Munazara-yi samʿ va basr.” Here, hearing and sight, and the bodily organs that enable them, describe themselves as whole bodies with their own organs that get deployed to do their tasks.

59. For general surveys of samaʾ as a Sufi practice see Lewisohn, “The Sacred Music of Islam”; Fritz Meier, “The Dervish Dance: An Attempt at an Overview,” in Essays in Islamic Piety and Mysticism, 23–48; Gribetz, “The Samaʿ Controversy”; During, Musique et mystique; and Molé, “La danse extatique en Islam.” For a crititque of the use of music and dance in religious practice, see Michot, Musique et danse selon Ibn Taymiyya.

60. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 643–45. Similar vigorous dance is described as the practice of Shaykh Ahmad Bashiri (Farghanaʾi, Hasht Hadiqa, 67b–68a).

61. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 650.

62. Abarquhi, Samaʿ dar khanqah, 299–300, in Hiravi, ed., Andar ghazal-i khvish nihan khvaham gashtan. Hiravi’s volume contains a combination of twentysix small treatises or excerpts from larger works in Persian on the topic of samaʿ.

63. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 53.

1. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 72. These verses are reported in a later text without attribution (Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 85a).

2. For a summary of this theme in Sufi literature, see Feuillebois-Pierunek, “Maîtres, disciples et compagnons.”

3. Kashani, Misbah al-hidaya va miftah al-kifaya, 153–59. This work is a Persian adaptation of Shihab ad-Din Suhrawardi’s famous Arabic guidebook for Sufis entitled ʿAwarif al-maʿarif. For an extensive description of the duties incumbent upon masters, see also Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 68–72, 75–82.

4. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 28.

5. Safi, Rashahat, 2:391–92. For a treatment of the common hagiographic theme of the refusal to play see Hagen, “‘He never took the Path of Pastime and Play.’”

6. Safi, Rashahat, 2:409–10.

7. Khabushani, “Adab-i darvishi,” 112–13. Following this statement, the author goes on to describe in detail the etiquette for performing solitary retreats. For an extended description of such rules, see also Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 72–75, 82–90.

8. Safi, Rashahat, 2:449–50.

9. For another depiction of an ordered group surrounding a master see figure 5.4. For further description and color reproductions of the painting shown in figure 3.3, see Bahari, Bihzad, 60; Soudavar, Art of the Persian Courts, 100; Barry, Figurative Art in Medieval Islam, 188–89.

10. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 240.

11. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 89.

12. Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 27a–b.

13. Cf. Hujwiri, Revelation of the Mystery, 212–16.

14. For a discussion of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s understanding of the hierarchy that was very influential in the Persianate sphere, see Chodkiewicz, The Seal of the Saints.

15. Hagiographic sources usually refer to their subjects as the poles of their times without placing them in a diachronic sequence spanning Islamic history. A rare exception (which, in any case, falls outside the time period that concerns me in this book) is the hagiography of Shaykh Nur ad-Din Basir (d. 1249), whose author calls his subject the fourteenth pole in history and provides the names of the preceding thirteen (cf. Abu l-Hasan b. Khwaja Sayf ad-Din, Maqamat-i Shaykh Nur ad-Din Basir).

16. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 68.

18. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 7.

19. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 221.

20. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 441a. Khizr and Elias were sometimes considered interchangeable figures (cf. John Renard, “Khadir/Khidr,” and Roberto Tottoli, “Elijah,” s.v. EQ).

21. For a narrative mapping of various lineages and sublineages in Central Asia during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries see Schwarz, “Unser Weg schließt tausend Wege ein.”

22. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 80.

23. While Naqshbandi sources do acknowledge Amir Kulal as Naqshband’s master, it is clear from the Maqamat-i Amir Kulal that Kulal’s hereditary successors did not see him as the chief successor. The Amir Kulal version of the continuation of the chain represents Naqshband as a rather self-indulgent disciple (Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 24a–25b, 33b).

24. Safi, Rashahat, 2:390.

26. Nurbakhsh, Risalat al-huda, 109.

27. It is noteworthy that Amin ad-Din Balyani’s hagiographer was also the translator, from Arabic, of the hagiography of Balyani’s lineal forbear Abu Ishaq Kazaruni (d. 1035), who is regarded as the first Sufi master to organize his followers into a Sufi community. As such, it is likely that the hagiographer’s detailed description of initiation reflects a heightened concern for formal rituals of the type in this particular community (cf. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Vita des Scheich Abu Ishaq al-Kazaruni).

28. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 22–24.

29. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 190–91.

30. Ibid., 193–95.

31. In a later hagiography, Hamadani is himself shown to receive these three instruments from Muhammad in a dream while he is visiting Medina. When he wakes up, he finds himself in possession of the items (Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 416b).

32. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 88–91; Parsa, Risala-yi qudsiyya, 8–9. For a detailed discussion of the many ways in which Naqshband and other Central Asian Sufi masters are legitimized in hagiographical narratives, see DeWeese, “The Legitimation of Bahaʾ ad-Din Naqshband.”

33. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 3b–4b.

34. For the details of Muhammad’s night journey and its status as a model for later Muslims, see Colby, Narrating Muhammad’s Night Journey; and Gruber and Colby, The Prophet’s Ascension.

35. For more detailed discussions of the Uvaysi element in the story of Ahmad Bashiri and other related figures, see DeWeese, An“Uvaysi” Sufi in Timurid Mawarannahr; and Bashir, “Muhammad in Sufi Eyes.”

36. Cf. Gerhard Böwering, “Baqaʾ wa fanaʾ,” s.v. EIr.

37. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 95. For another extensive example of corporeal transformation through initiatory experiences see, Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 12–18. For an attempt to understand the general functions of vision in hagiographical narratives see Bashir, “Narrating Sight.”

38. To see particular details of internal contestation in a text devoted to this issue, see DeWeese, “Khojagani Origins and the Critique of Sufism.”

39. Ahrar has been the subject of studies concerned with the considerable sociopolitical and economic influence he wielded for much of his life. For details, see works by Jürgen Paul and Jo-Ann Gross listed in the bibliography as well as ʿArif Nawshahi’s introduction to his editions in Ahval va sukhanan-i Khwaja ʿUbaydullah Ahrar.

40. Safi, Rashahat, 1:203.

41. Stories showing competition are present in other sources on the life of Ahrar as well, although the authors of these works are not as systematic as Safi in creating the image of the master’s early life.

42. Safi, Rashahat, 2:418.

43. Ibid., 2:421; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 237.

44. Safi, Rashahat, 2:426–27; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 253–54.

45. Safi, Rashahat, 2:425.

46. For summary assessments of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s reception in later centuries, see William Chittick, “Ebn al-ʿArabi,” s.v. EIr; Morris, “Ibn al-ʿArabi and His Interpretors”; and Knysh, Ibn ʿArabi in the Later Islamic Tradition. Knysh’s work is limited to the discussion of Ibn al-ʿArabi solely in Arabic-speaking Islamic societies.

47. Bakharzi, Maqamat-i Jami, 95. For reports on ʿAbd ar-Rahman Jami’s defense of Ibn al-ʿArabi in this work, see also Bakharzi, Maqamat-i Jami, 90–93, 254.

48. Fairly extensive secondary scholarship is now available on Ibn al-ʿArabi’s place in the thought of these and other Persianate authors. The eminent historian of Sufism Najib Mayil-i Hiravi has indicated his intention of publishing an assessment of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s place in Persianate Sufism under the title Ibn-i ʿArabi dar Iran va sharq-i jahan-i Islam. As far as I am aware, the book has not yet appeared (cf. Hiravi, In bargha-yi pir, xxxi, note 1).

49. Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 38a.

50. Isfizari, Rawzat al-jannat fi awsaf madinat Herat, 207.

51. Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 494–95.

52. Safi, Rashahat, 1:179–80; Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 175–76; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 107–8.

53. This reports relates directly to the question of “oneness of being,” reflecting the difference of opinion regarding the extent to which God and the created world, including humanity, share in the same being. Khwafi’s work Manhaj arrashad is a detailed refutation of Ibn al-ʿArabi and those whom he considered his antecedents and followers (for an edition of this work with extensive notes see Hiravi, In bargha-yi pir, 485–579). For explorations of oneness of being with reference to the development of Persianate Sufism see: Lahiji, Mafatih al-iʿjāz, 460–63; Chittick, “Wahdat al-wujud in Islamic Thought,” and “Sadr al-Din Qunawi on Oneness of Being.”

54. Safi, Rashahat, 2:427–28.

55. For a reproduction in color, see Bahari, Bihzad, 94. Bihzad’s significance as a cultural figure is discussed in Lentz, “Changing Worlds: Bihzad and the New Painting”; and Sadri, Kamal ad-Din Bihzad: Majmuʿa-yi maqalat-i hamayish-i bayn al-milali.

56. Bahari, Bihzad, 36–38. Zayn ad-Din Vasifi’s Badayiʿ al-vaqayiʿ, an extensive work on the cultural life of Herat under Navaʾi’s patronage, contains an episode where Bihzad is said to have brought the vizier a portrait of him, set in a garden, with him leaning on a staff. For reflections of cultural life among the Timurid elite, see Lentz and Lowry, Timur and the Princely Vision; Golombek and Subtelny, Timurid Art and Culture; Thackston, A Century of Princes.

1. For summaries of Sufi understandings of love for God, see Ernst, “The Stages of Love in Early Persian Sufism”; Abrahamov, Divine Love in Islamic Mysticism; Daylami, A Treatise on Mystical Love. For the question of love in Islamic literature in general, see Bell, Love Theory in Later Hanbalite Islam; and Chabel, Encyclopédie de l’amour en Islam.

2. What I am suggesting here regarding Sufis naturally applies to poets as historical actors as well. My comment is, therefore, limited to poetry as a genre and is not meant to suggest that poets simply reproduced their paradigms without active engagement with their historical contexts.

3. There is extensive literature now available describing the characteristics and ethos of medieval Persian poetry. The most useful examples, which provide in-depth analysis in addition to surveying major figures, are Meisami, Persian Court Poetry; Losesnsky, Welcoming Fighani; de Bruijn, Persian Sufi Poetry; Feuillebois-Pierunek, A la croisée des voies célestes; Tourage, Rumi and the Hermeneutics of Eroticism.

4. An immense amount of Persian poetry was produced in the period being considered in this book. An assessment of the literary qualities of the work of the many major and minor poets is beyond the scope of my topic, and the few examples highlighted represent figures well known both as poets and Sufis. For a summary description of the poetic scene that includes references to other studies see Subtelny, “A Taste for the Intricate.”

5. Jaghataʾi, Divan-i Hilali Jaghataʾi ba Shah-o-darvish va Sifat al-ʿashiqin-i u, 284. For Hilali’s significance as a poet and a cultural figure in Herat during the late Timurid and early Safavid eras, see Michele Bernardini, “Helali, Astarabadi Jagata’i, Mawlana Badr al-Din,” s.v. EIr.

6. For more details of the internal mechanics of the relationship between desire and love see chapter 5.

7. Qasim-i Anvar, Kulliyat-i Qasim-i Anvar, 104–5.

8. The fullest and most elaborate discussions of properties associated with love that I have tried to summarize here are found in allegorical narratives. For examples in Persian from the period that concerns me, see the discussion of Husn-o-ʿishq in chapter 5 as well as Abivardi, “Kitab-i anis al-ʿashiqin.”

9. Samarqandi, Tazkirat ash-shuʿaraʾ, 350.

10. For the details of the manuscript that contains this painting see Robinson and Gray, Persian Art of the Book, 11–12.

11. For the transformation of the Safavids from a Sufi lineage to a dynasty see Aubin, “L’avènement des Safavides reconsidéré.” Religious aspects of the transformation as they pertain to corporeality are discussed in Bashir, “Shah Ismaʿil and the Qizilbash.”

12. For a history of this text, including the production of the modern edition I am utilizing, see Mazzaoui, “A ‘New’ Edition of Safvat al-safa.”

13. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 80.

17. Ibid., 109. Wearing felt indicates Safi ad-Din’s adoption of an ascetic lifestyle.

18. Ibid., 113. It is tempting to interpret the incidence of wet dreams during the journey in modern psychoanalytic terms as an indication of Safi ad-Din’s latent sexual desire for the master. In the context of the original narrative, however, it is clearly an aspect of the emptying of the disciple’s body, on par with the negation of his senses prior to his arrival at the master’s door.

20. Safi, Rashahat, 2:428–30, 2:577; Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 187–88.

21. Safi and Samarqandi also state that a different Naqshbandi shaykh by the name of Husam ad-Din Parsa Balkhi attempted to convince Ahrar to take an oath with him while he was on the way to see Charkhi. Ahrar declined this invitation since he had already made up his mind to meet Charkhi (Safi, Rashahat, 1:166; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 244).

22. The three hagiographies differ on the point at which Ahrar eventually becomes Yaʿqub’s disciple. Safi and Samarqandi give the more detailed version reproduced above (Safi, Rashahat, 2:430, Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 126–27), while Nishapuri states only that Ahrar was repulsed when Yaʿqub extended his hand and then took it when the shaykh said that Naqshband had said that his hand was like that of the earlier master (Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 188). Nishapuri thus highlights the significance of the chain rather than the individual master.

23. Karaki, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 512–13. The idea that the master has to be able to make himself into a beloved is repeated in the same work in a different context (537).

24. Ibid., 513. For a similar sentiment in another hagiography devoted to Ahrar, see Safi, Rashahat, 2:466.

25. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 379.

26. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 76.

27. The only manuscript of the work available to me gives no date of composition or copying. However, the last event the author mentions with a specific time component occurred eighteen lunar years after the death of his own shaykh in 1487. This means that the work was composed in 1504–1505 at the earliest (Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 169a).

28. The subject of this hagiography is a relatively little known master from the fifteenth century. His chain of affiliation goes through Saʿd ad-Din Kashghari, Nizam ad-Din Khamush, and ʿAlaʾ ad-Din ʿAttar (d. 1400) to Naqshband himself. In Naqshbandi history this line represents a minor tradition compared to the much more influential chain represented by Khwaja Ahrar and Yaʿqub Charkhi. For other sources on this master’s life see Tosun, Bahâeddin Nakşbend, 141–42, 236.

29. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 23a–b.

30. Ibid., 78a–79a. The “copy” mentioned in the last part refers to the physical body made from the mold of the species.

31. Masters’ power to make their disciples long for them uncontrollably is reflected in other stories related in this hagiography as well (cf. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 24b–25a, 27b–28a).

32. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 244.

33. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 119.

34. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 127b–128b.

35. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 177–78.

36. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 74.

38. Lowry and Nemazee, A Jeweler’s Eye, 144–55. This image is based on a motif quite popular in painting from the fifteenth century. The basic story here is substantially the same as the one being depicted in figures 2.1 and 6.1.

39. For details of the manuscript that contains this image see Martin, Les miniatures de Behzad, plate 9.

40. One work advocates this strategic deployment of love directly as a part of the etiquette of a master (Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 81).

41. This point is discussed more extensively in chapters 6 and 7.

42. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 132.

43. Ibid., 135. Another text relates a similar story where a master is unable to get warm no matter how much anyone tries because the extreme cold being experienced by a person traveling through a rough terrain is transferred to his body (Safi, Rashahat, 1:193).

44. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 100–101. The same idea of one person acting as mirror for another is described also in Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 50a; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 156.

45. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 222–23.

46. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 25–26; Niʿmatullahi, Risala, 141.

47. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 264.

48. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 43b.

49. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 22; Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 30–33.

50. Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 58–59.

51. For the rivalry between Nurbakhsh and Barzishabadi and its representation in hagiographical sources, see Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions, 45–54.

52. Nurbakhsh, Risalat al-huda, 130.

53. For general information about this work and its author see Shiro Ando, “Gazorgahi, Mir Kamal al-Din Husayn,” s.v. EIr.

54. For the details of this particular manuscript, see Richard, Splendeurs persanes, 197. For this work’s remarkable run as a subject for illustrated manuscripts in the sixteenth century, see Uluç, Turkman Governors, Shiraz Artisans, and Ottoman Collectors, 183–223.

55. Gazurgahi, Majalis al-ʿushshaq, 148–50.

1. For references to explications of these terms in classical Arabic Sufi sources, see ʿAjam, Mawsuʿat mustalahat, 867–68, 876–88. For a summary of these views in the original literature I am reviewing, see Samarqandi, Silsilat alʿarifin, 63–65.

2. For a recent set of sophisticated methodological discussions in this arena within Islamic studies, see Babayan and Najmabadi, Islamicate Sexualities.

3. For recent studies that discuss homoerotic desire in Islamic contexts, see Ze’evi, Producing Desire; Sprachman, “Le beau garçon san merci”; Andrews and Kalpaklı, Age of Beloveds; and El-Rouayheb, Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World.

4. Cf. Ingrid Mattson, “Law: Family Law, 7th–Late 18th Centuries,” EWIC(Brill Online, September 17, 2009, http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=ewic COM-0113).

5. Hamadani, “Risala-yi zikriyya,” 531–32.

6. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 68b.

7. For the texts of both the narrative poem and the prose summary, along with French translations, see Fattahi, Coeur et Beauté ou Le livre des amoureux. For the author’s background and the work’s enduring influence in later centuries see Tahsin Yazıcı, “Fattahi-Nisaburi, Mohammad Yahya Sibak,” s.v. EIr.

8. For details of this manuscript, see Titley, Miniatures from Persian Manuscripts, 41 (no. 104).

9. For a detailed assessment of this theme in a more recent period, see Najmabadi, Women with Mustaches and Men Without Beards. My assessment of love and desire in Sufi narratives agrees with the comment of one reviewer of this book who suggests that Najmabadi’s overall concern with showing the transition to modernity makes her minimize the thoroughly hierarchical nature of the premodern discourse (cf. Norma Claire Moruzzi, “Review,” IJMES39 [2007], 128–30).

10. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 155a–b.

11. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 352a–b.

12. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 148b–149a.

13. Safi, Rashahat, 1:339–40.

14. Ibid., 1:205. It is, of course, possible to read more into this story than the desire of touching hands. I leave the matter at the actual textual representation in order to convey the inhibitions reflected in the discourse.

15. For the incident involving Hurufis, see the various historians cited in detail in Saʿid Nafisi’s introduction in Kulliyat-i Qasim-i Anvar, 5–48.

16. Safi, Rashahat, 2:417.

17. Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 591–91.

18. Safi, Rashahat, 2:420–21. For another comment in this work relating to the deficiencies of Qasim’s followers, see 2:487.

19. Ibid., 2:453. The idea of using young men as muses has a long history in Persianate literatures, although it is inadequately explored as a research area. For a collection that brings together a number of sources but has a tendentious and condemnatory attitude, see Shamisa, Shahidbazi dar adabiyyat-i Farsi.

20. Safi, Rashahat, 2:555–56.

21. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 70.

22. For a detailed examination of the relationship implied between women’s voices and sexuality in a different Islamic context, see Malti-Douglas, Woman’s Body, Woman’s Word.

23. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 61. For another case like this, see Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 242.

24. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 184–85.

25. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 282.

26. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 643–44.

27. Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 312. Of course, the fact that this woman is old puts her in a different category for the purposes of male-female interactions than would be the case for a young woman.

28. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 92.

29. Parsa, Risala-yi qudsiyya, 120. The “bird coming out of an egg” reference here echoes Parsa’s general explanation of the significance of shariʿa discussed in chapter 2 on the basis of his work Fasl al-khitab (309–10).

30. Safi, Rashahat, 1:91–92; Karaki, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 522. Along with other slight differences in the way the story is given in the two texts, Karaki gives the name of the master in question as Amir Kulal Vashi.

31. Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 28a–29b. Sufi masters’ miraculous ability to protect people from afar, as in this case, is discussed in chapter 7.

32. The theme of male religious authority figures acting as mothers is a notable feature of Christian hagiography as well in certain periods. For details, see Bynum, Jesus as Mother.

33. Ishaq, Khwabnama, 20a–22a.

34. Ishaq, Mahramnama,32, 33, 39.

35. Sources for Kalimatallah’s life are discussed in Mihrabi, Kalimatallah Hiya al-ʿUlya.

36. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 35b–37a.

38. Ibid., 24a, 34a, 65b.

41. Safi, Rashahat, 2:372.

42. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 93b-94a.

44. Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 166; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 187–88.

45 Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 65.

46. For a comparative perspective on this theme from Sufism in a different region, see Marín, “Images des femmes dans les sources hagiographiques maghrébines.”

47. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 170–71. It is noteworthy that both Shaykh Safi and Shaykh Ahmad Bashiri are shown married to women named Fatima, hinting at a relationship to the Prophet through marriage.

48. Safi, Rashahat, 1:163. The fourth daughter is said to have died before Naqshband himself. This information is provided in a marginal note in a manuscript of the Rashahat. For other sources on this issue see Tosun, Bahaeddin Nakşbend, 112.

49. Safi, Rashahat, 2:603–4.

50. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 46.

51. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 68a–b.

52. Ibid., 69b–70a.

53. As far as I am aware, only one such group of Sufi women finds mention in premodern Islamic sources. The so-called Sisters of Anatolia are said to have been a corporate social group parallel to the male guild called the Brothers. For historical evidence regarding this group, see Bayram, Bâciyân-i Rum. For literature pertaining to women’s authoritative roles in another Islamic context, see Pemberton, Women Mystics and Sufi Shrines in India.

54. Safi, Rashahat, 2:374; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 114–15.

1. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 56b.

3. I use the term economy here with some trepidation given its particular connotation as a concept used to explain patterns in the economic organization of modern states. As such, to call the types of work one sees as being interconnected in Sufi hagiographic texts an economy is necessarily an approximation for the sake of convenience. To do so is heuristically valuable, nevertheless, because it allows us to see how, in this context, various types of work were exchanged on the basis of values imagined through the fact of their interdependency.

4. The literature on miracles in religious understandings is too huge to describe here in summary fashion. For some scholarship outside Islamic studies that parallels what I am attempting, see Kee, Miracle in the Early Christian World; Mullin, Miracles and the Modern Religious Imagination; Aigle, Miracle et Karama.

5. For summary information regarding the discussion of prophetic miracles in Islamic thought, see Denis Gril, “Miracles,” s.v. EQ. A dense theological exploration of the theme can be found in Baqillani, Miracle and Magic. For a recent exploration of various facets of the development of Muhammad’s life story as a religious exercise, see Brockopp, ed., Cambridge Companion to Muhammad.

6. For more details regarding the types of miracles one can encounter in Sufi texts, see Renard, Friends of God; Gramlich, Die Wunder der Freunde Gottes; Badran, Adabiyyat al-karama as-sufiyya;Ford, “Constructing Sanctity.”

7. A partial exception to this statement is to be found in the opinion that when it comes to heavenly journeys called miʿraj, only the one attributed to Muhammad is to be seen as having been with the body. Such miraculous journeys attributed to Sufi masters are said to be in the spirit alone. This opinion is reported in one hagiographic text with citation to a work entitled al-Minhaj fi l-miʿraj by the early Sufi author Abu l-Qasim Qushayri (cf. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 84–85).

8. Jami, Nafahat al-uns, 22.

9. For explorations of this theme based on Islamic materials, see Benkheira, Islam et interdits alimentaires; van Gelder, God’s Banquet. Bynum’s Holy Feast and Holy Fast is the classic work to explore this issue in a religious context.

10. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 3a-b; Safi, Rashahat, 1:75.

11. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 7b.

12. Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 2a.

13. Safi, Rashahat, 2:391.

14. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 35b–36a.

15. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 65a, 89a.

16. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 9. Asceticism is discussed in greater detail in chapter 2.

19. Safi, Rashahat, 1:346–47. The author attributes this view to a certain Yemeni master named Shaykh ʿAbd al-Kabir and speculates that this meant that he was one among the Abdal, a major station in the ever-existing hierarchy of God’s friends. The Abdal’s rejection of meat is attributed here to the fact they were responsible for channeling life to all living beings.

20. Farsi, Manaqib-i Jamal ad-Din Savi, 53–54.

21. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 22b.

22. Ibid., 28a. The term halal in this context means food acquired through just means rather than simply meat killed according to Islamic legal prescriptions. The two meanings of halal (and haram or forbidden food or acts) are often invoked intermingled in Islamic literatures.

25. Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 124.

26. Vaʿizi, Risala dar siyar-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 303.

27. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 185–86.

28. Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 31b–32a.

31. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 244–45.

32. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 57. A jigarband is the combination of heart, liver, and lungs of the body of an animal.

33. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 30a–31a.

34. Niʿmatullahi, Risala, 165.

35. For a listing of Ahrar’s properties, which were sources of agricultural produce that satisfied countless people, see Safi, Rashahat, 2:404–5.

36. Safi, Rashahat, 2:399–401; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 205.

37. Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 211.

38. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 91.

39. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 5.

40. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 25a–b. The presence of Amir Kulal and Naqshband in each other’s hagiographies makes for interesting comparison. Their lineages are interlaced, but by the time the texts were produced the two were anchoring figures in rival collateral lines within the Khwajagani tree. Consequently, the mention of one in a work dedicated to the other carries a begrudging tone.

42. Ibid., 45a–b. The case of Mary is invoked in theoretical Sufi literature as well in order to prove that individuals other than prophets can perform miracles (cf. Parsa, Fasl al-khitab, 384). The woman who speaks in this story was the mother of Kalan Khatun, the daughter of Amir Hamza discussed at the end of chapter 5.

43. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 117–18. In a similar instance reported in the Rashahat, the ever-living prophet Khizr refused to eat a piece of bread on the grounds that the person who had leavened the dough for it had not been in a state of ritual purity (1:65). The necessity of ritual purity on the part of a cook is indicated from Shaykh Bashiri as well (Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 66b–67a).

44. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 125. For a brief but illustrative work that lays out the proper etiquette while consuming food see ʿAla ad-Dawla Simnani, “Adab-i sufra,” in Musannafat-i Farsi, 7–12. For a description of the etiquette of eating in the Persianate sphere see also Mahmud b. Muhammad, Adab al-muzifin va zad al-akilin.

45. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 172–74.

47. Safi, Rashahat, 2:541; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 280.

48. Ibid., 2:559. For Qushchi, see Fazlur Rahman and David Pingree, “ʿAli Qusji (Qusju),” s.v. EIr. Ahrar’s antipathy toward Qushchi probably reflects the fact that the latter was a dedicated partisan of the physical sciences versus Ahrar’s claim of possessing hidden truths acquired through Sufi methodologies.

49. Safi, Rashahat, 2:643–44; Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 280.

50. Safi, Rashahat, 2:403–404.

51. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 143–44.

52. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 63b.

53. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 344–45.

54. Ibid., 347–78.

55. Ibid., 350–53.

56. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 385b–390a. The king is not identified in this text, but in later works where this story is cited he is taken to be Timur (cf. DeWeese, “Sayyid ʿAli Hamadani”).

57. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 391a–b.

58. Ibid., 378a–382b.

59. For details of the manuscript where this painting occurs, see Robinson, Persian Paintings in the John Rylands Library, 22, 94; the same theme occurs in figures 2.1 and 4.3.

1. Cf. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 74.

2. For a perceptive consideration of the process of transition from oral to written narratives, see DeWeese, “Ahmad Yasavi and the Dog-Men.”

3. Bukhari, Maslak al-ʿarifin, 45a–b.

4. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 52a.

5. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 146.

6. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 43a.

7. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 254–55.

8. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 24b.

9. Safi, Rashahat, 1:183–84, Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 249.

10. Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 89–90.

11. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 57.

12. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 86a–b.

13. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 101. The text goes on to describe what ʿUmar did to alleviate other ailments and hardships such as the burden of loans.

14. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 12b–13a.

15. For some examples, see Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 306, 318; Anonymous, Malfuz-i Hazrat Zayn ad-Din Taybadi, 46b–47a, 51a–52a; Bukhari, Anis attalibin, 169, 179–80; Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 409b; Kirmani, Tazkira dar manaqib-i Hazrat Shah Niʿmatullah Vali, 121–22; Niʿmatullahi, Risala, 153, 168; Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 56a, 78a–79b, 90a.

16. For further details regarding this image, see Lowry and Nemazee, A Jeweler’s Eye, 160–61. For the popular theme of Sufi masters’ riding tigers, see van Bruinessen, “Haji Bektash, Sultan Sahak.”

17. Cf. Urunbaev and Gross, Letters of Khwaja ʿUbayd Allah Ahrar. For Ahrar’s political role, see Paul, Die politische und soziale Bedeutung, and Gross, “Khoja Ahrar.”

18. A full consideration of Sufi masters’ role in the political setup of Persianate societies in this period is beyond the scope of this book. Such a treatment would require expanding the base of sources to the many dynastic and regional historical narratives composed in the period, which is a task I aim to take up in the future. For existing studies in the arena that deal with relationships between particular masters and rulers, see studies on Khwaja Ahrar previously mentioned in this chapter, and Bashir, Messianic Hopes and Mystical Visions; Paul, Doctrine and Organization; Potter, “The Kart Dynasty of Herat.”

19. Mahmud b. ʿUsman, Miftah al-hidayat, 47. This story is followed by the case of a man whose clothes become disheveled while sleeping, and the master comes and tucks them up correctly to keep his body properly covered from other eyes. On this theme see also Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 162–63.

20. Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 49.

21. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 198–99.

22. Ibid., 164–66.

23. Shihab ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 29b–30a.

24. Ibid., 19b–20a.

25. Ibid., 9b–10a. For other instances of the theme that involve Amir Kulal’s successor Amir Hamza see Shams ad-Din, Maqamat-i Amir Kulal, 48a–50a.

26. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 364b–365b. For an evaluation of ʿAli Hamadani’s long-term legacy, see Elias, “A Second ʿAli.”

27. Badakhshi, Manqabat al-javahir, 434a–435a.

28. Parsa, Risala-yi qudsiyya, 17–18.

29. Bukhari, Anis at-talibin, 177–78.

30. Ibid., 188–89.

31. Ibid., 226–27.

33. Farghanaʾi, Hasht hadiqa, 18b.

34. For explicit evocation of this theme, see the discussion of ascetic practices and first meetings between masters and disciples in chapters 3 and 4 respectively. The notion of a second birth or resurrection after dying to worldly concerns could be connected to Jesus in particular as a prophet. This is articulated directly in one source that equates the Sufi desire for a living death with the death and resurrection of Jesus (Safi, Rashahat, 2:384–85).

35. For useful encapsulations of various perspectives on this issue, see Hallam, Hockey, and Howarth, Beyond the Body. For an extensive exploration of this theme using Islamic materials, see Halevi, Muhammad’s Grave.

36. Kurani, Rawzat as-salikin, 159a–b. The public mourning of women has a long history as a debated practice in Islamic societies (cf. Halevi, Muhammad’s Grave, 114–42).

37. Vaʿiz, Maqsad al-iqbal-i sultaniyya, 71.

38. The painting is attributed to the great master Bihzad (cf. Bahari, Bihzad, 86–89; Lukens-Swietochowski, “The Historical Background”).

39. Ardabili, Safvat as-safaʾ, 970–71.

40. Ibid., 977–78.

41. Ibid., 973–75.

42. Ibid., 983–87.

43. Nishapuri, Malfuzat-i Ahrar, 323–24.

44. Shaykh, Khavariq-i ʿadat-i Ahrar, 633–34.

45. Safi, Rashahat, 2:655–58. Isfizari describes the scene at ʿAbd ar-Rahman Jami’s death in quite similar terms (Rawzat al-jannat fi awsaf madinat Herat, 237).

46. In addition to his own work, Mawlana Shaykh is cited as the instigator behind Burhan ad-Din Samarqandi’s hagiography devoted to Ahrar (Samarqandi, Silsilat al-ʿarifin, 54).

47. For other extended accounts relating to masters’ deaths see: Badakhshi, Khulasat al-manaqib, 279–88; Murshidi, Maʿdan ad-durar, 103–24.

48. Subtelny’s recent account of the shrine provides an overview and references to earlier discussions (Timurids in Transition, 208–12). The site’s architectural history is discussed in Golombek, “Mazar-i Sharif.”

49. Cf. Lari, Takmilat nafahat al-uns. This work formed the second part of Lari’s commentary on the Nafahat that he wrote following a request by Jami’s son.

50. Lari, Tarikhcha-yi Mazar-i Sharif, 20–31.

53. Cf. Subtelny, Timurids in Transition, 212–14. For an extensive exploration of the theme of gardens see also Subtelny, Le Monde est un jardin.

54. One can get a good sense for the density of funerary structures in a single city (Herat) by reading through a guidebook for shrines such as Vaʿiz, Maqsad al-iqbal-i sultaniyya, and Allen, Timurid Herat. For helpful scholarship in this regard that includes coverage of social issues in addition to formalistic architectural concerns, see Golombek, The Timurid Shrine at Gazur Gah; Golombek and Wilber, The Timurid Architecture of Iran and Turan; Rizvi, Safavid Dynastic Shrine; DeWeese, “Sacred Places and ‘Public’ Narratives,” and “Dog Saints and Dog Shrines in Kubravi Tradition”; Claus-Peter Haase, “Shrines of Saints and Dynastic Mausolea.”