Toward a Contemporary Ihya’ of Sufism

Hujjat al-Islam Imam Al-Ghazali writes in his intellectual autobiography:

“God Most High cured me of that sickness. My soul regained its health and equilibrium and once again I accepted the self-evident data of reason and relied on them with safety and certainty. But that was not achieved by constructing a proof or putting together an argument. On the contrary, it was the effect of a light which God Most High cast into my breast. And that light is the key to most knowledge. Therefore, whoever thinks that the unveiling of truth depends on precisely formulated proofs has indeed straitened the broad mercy of God.”¹

Upon perusing Ghazali’s Munqidh, I resonated with certain stages of doubt and introspection he traversed, evoking recollections of similar inquiries and phases in my own life, as I grew up in the southeastern part of Bangladesh. The Imam articulates that during his pursuit of certainty through a challenging path, he exhibited unwavering determination and fortitude, ultimately leading his heart into illumination. While acknowledging the immeasurable sophistication, sincerity, beauty, and divine blessings inherent in the Imam’s journey, I humbly acknowledge parallels in my own odyssey. Much like the esteemed scholar, my trajectory involved navigating through diverse intellectual landscapes, encompassing modern technocratic orientations to Islamic theological discourse and philosophical considerations, culminating in an embrace of Sufi thought. It is imperative to recognize that such spiritual journeys are inherently intricate and lack the linear progression often depicted in written narratives.

As we navigate the currents of our “postmodern” age, it becomes increasingly evident that the spiritual landscape is evolving. The era of modernity is characterized philosophically by “the loss of certainty and the realization that certainty can never be established, once and for all.”² The timeless wisdom of Islam, while profound and comprehensive, faces the challenge of addressing the nuanced needs of contemporary souls, marked by their emotional upheavals under the rubble of spiritual crisis. As the British author Ahmed Paul Keeler states, “Modern humans have conquered the whole world but lost themselves,”³ which has manifested in modern warfare, destruction of the sanctity of human lives by oppressive regimes, environmental degradation by big corporations, horrifying biotechnological interventions on living beings, rapid growth of solitude and mental illnesses, human children born without natural caregivers, unchecked proliferation of artificial intelligence without much consideration to consciousness and psychospirituality, denial of rationality by poststructuralist relativists, growing wealth disparity, and many more.

In Bengal, a region where I spent much of my life and one that is rich in religio-cultural and historical lineages, the call for a tajdid (renewal) or in Ghazali’s language, ihya’ (revival) of Sufism resonates deeply. The essence of Sufism, with its emphasis on the intimate experience between the seeker and the Divine, has the potential to fill the void of uncertainty left by a disconnect between traditional religious discourse and the yearnings of the human spirit, as it did for Ghazali and many others on their path to God, the Truth (al-Haqq).

It is in no way a denial or downplay of the current status quo in the region, namely the tradition of Deobandi islah (reform) which breathed new life into Sufism for the needs of its own time; however, we find ourselves at a juncture where a revitalization is essential.⁴ Our call for revival aligns with the legacy of renewal seen in Deoband, acknowledging it as a continuum of the historical tradition of scholarly revival and reform within Islam as well as accommodating the more indigenous spiritual paths of Bengal such as Furfura, Fultoli, and Sarsina, all of which draw from almost a thousand years of Suhrawardi, Chishti, Qadiri, Shattari, and Naqshbandi heritage of the land. Deoband, cognizant of religious innovations in the face of colonization of spiritual and intellectual domains, confined esoteric Sufi secrets and teachings within its inner circle, emphasizing generic spiritual purification for the masses. The time has arrived to return to the classical meaning of chilla (forty-day retreat) and to open for everyone the doors that have long been closed behind which the elites gather to see God (mushahada).

The dynamics of postmodernity and the ascendancy of literalist interpretive trends that are trying to radicalize the religion underscore the urgency of this revival where spiritual education is systematically mandated, the objectives of religious institutions are realigned, and an ethical call to action is proliferated. Our spiritual legacy, encapsulated in the ruh (spirit) that God has breathed into us, beckons for an approach that transcends the rigid confines of legal injunctions and resonates with the depths of our beings. Let us join hands to foster an Iḥyā’ al-Tasawwuf that not only safeguards the spiritual heritage of Bengal but also addresses the contemporary needs of our hearts and souls. Together, we can embark on a journey of self-discovery and illumination, reviving the profound teachings that lie at the heart of Sufism, which in turn has the ability to offer us emancipation in all other facets of life.

The Deobandi reform of Sufism had to tackle the onslaught of colonialism executed by the British and its knowledge-manipulating apparatus, modernity, preached by the likes of Syed Ahmed Khan. In doing so, figures like Ashraf Ali Thanwi restricted a lot of Sufi practices, even though he deemed them generally permissible or matters of valid difference. One such matter was the discontinuation of music concerts known as mehfil-e-sama (duff and rattle) in Chishti khanqahs, regarding which he states: “Protect yourself as much as you can, but don’t object if you witness someone else involving in these concerts as long as they follow the rules and manners and don’t harm anybody else or yourself.”⁵

However, he recognized the differences of opinion among scholars in order to defend this age-old Chishti practice against criticism. He responded to someone by saying, “I don’t engage, but I also don’t refuse,” citing Khwaja Baha al-Din (1318–1389), the founder of the Naqshbandiyya. “And while Thana Naqhsbandi (1728–1801) did not reject it, he simply left out this practice.”⁶

This renewal (tajdid) and reform (islah) had to do with the loss of Muslim power to the colonial non-Islamic interventionists from whom the tradition was to be preserved, taking the approach of caution and reservation, while it was also necessary not to associate Islam with problematic practices with the rise of modern rational minds. The focus was shifted from popular Sufi practices that were once prevalent among the masses without the essence of their ultimate goal of gnosis (ma’rifa) to engaging the masses (‘amm) in the most basic Sufi practices and reserving the more complex ideas of tasawwuf and related practices only for the ‘alim and those few (khass) ‘aqil who can closely traverse the spiritual path with the ‘alim.

One such practice was the qiyam during mawlid ﷺ. According to Tayyib Qasmi:

“In the issue of Qiyam during Mawlid, Hadhrat Thanwi’s stance was that of permissibility in the beginning. There was leniency in such matters, but when research changed, a stricter approach was adopted. In the view of Hadhrat Imdadullah al-Makki, who is the Grand Shaykh of the entire clan of Deoband, because we are all initiated in his chain of spiritual transmission (silsila), there is also leniency. But the practice of Deoband is to prefer the stance of jurists in accordance with what they explicitly derive from the Qur’an and Sunnah. In reality, the practice of standing up during Mawlid is a [type of] trance behavior (Harkat-i Wajdi), and trance behavior is credible only when it is accompanied by an underlying state of ecstasy (Hal). If it’s performed as a custom [rasm] or to imitate others [Naqqali], then it can’t be called trance behavior (Harkat i-Wajd). The summary is that if someone actually witnesses the Prophet’s spiritual reality [ruhaniyyah] and stands up in respect, then this becomes an issue of Tariqat, and every associate of that Tariqat present [in the gathering] should [then] stand up; otherwise, a state of spiritual contraction [Qabd] would overcome them. So, in reality, this issue doesn’t even come under the jurisdiction of Shariah but is conditioned on Dhawq (tasting) and Wajd (rapture) and employed as treatment by [certain] orders, and [therefore] shouldn’t be dragged under the headings of permissible and impermissible. If someone is experiencing a spiritual state, neither we condemn such a person, nor should you. But if a sober person starts following such a custom, it will be considered an imitation devoid of taste.”⁷

This method proved to be successful in its time, as Thanwi emerged as the quintessential mujaddid (renewer) of the century. However, the appeal of rational modernity has been decaying for a long time, and what has been emerging for the last half century is anti-rational literalism and postmodern relativism. The first camp posits some obvious problem of misunderstanding the nature of the Qur’an, human nature, and its capacity to have spiritual experiences and rational conclusions. Whereas the second group denies rationality at a meta level; in their minds, everything is subjective to individual or, at best, communal desires, diminishing the role of any universals other than the absoluteness of relativism. What is common in both camps is their fallacy with regards to understanding the nature of human and divine reality, manifesting in the misapprehension of rationality but, more importantly, of the essence of divinity, the spiritual nature of humans, and their longing for God. In my non-expert, tiny, humble opinion, with the advent of modernity’s technologies, such as the democratization of knowledge, there needs to be an introduction of the science of gnosis among everyone, which could not be the case for Thanwi or the 14th century AH tajdid (renewal).

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Works Cited:

1. Al-Ghazali, Deliverance from Error, 1999, p. 57 [↩]
2. Delanty, G. (2007). “Modernity.” In G. Ritzer (Ed.), The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology. [↩]
3. Blogging Theology. (2023, November 2). Rethinking Islam & the West: A Narrative for the Age of Crises with Ahmed Paul Keeler. YouTube. [↩]
4. Ingram, B. (2009). “Sufis, scholars and scapegoats: Rashid Ahmad Gangohi (d. 1905) and the Deobandi critique of Sufism.” Muslim World, 99(3), 478–501. [↩]
5. Thanwi, Rights Due to Music. [↩]
6. Thanwi, Malfuzat, vol. 3, p. 188. [↩]
7. Thanwi, A. A. Malfuzat, vol. 7, pp. 387–8. [↩]