Al-Shaykh al-Akbar, ‘The Greatest Master’ Muhyiddin Ibn al-ʿArabi (1165-1240) was born in Murcia, Andalusia in modern day Spain. The period during which he lived has been – somewhat problematically – described as one of Convivencia, or peaceful co-existence, between Muslims, Christians and Jews.
Ibn al-ʿArabi’s Andalusia was not an idyllic paradise without problems. Nevertheless, it was a creative tension between contending theological, spiritual and intellectual trends that I believe catalysed Ibn al-ʿArabi’s expansive and unique vision, one that remains pertinent and necessary for many of our current spiritual, intellectual and cultural crises.
James Morris states that “paraphrasing Whitehead’s famous remark about Plato … one could say that the history of Islamic thought subsequent to Ibn al-ʿArabi (at least down to the 18th century and the radically new encounter with the modern West) might largely be construed as a series of footnotes to his work.”1
In trying to explain the significance of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s contributions, it is important to highlight that the Greatest Master did not invent much in the way of new terminology, concepts or ideas. Rather, his brilliance is in his creative methodology and epistemology that allowed for an entirely new reading and appreciation of the Quran, Hadith and central Islamic texts as well as his intellectual milieu.
Claude Levi-Strauss’ description of the bricoleur as someone who ‘works with a limited set of tools to create something entirely new’ is an apt description of Ibn al-ʿArabi. His bricolage of Islamic thought, described by Morris as ‘mystical theosophy’ (mysticism, theology and philosophy), belies the vision of more than a philosopher or theologian, but rather a saint-artist.
The Epistemology of Ibn al-‘Arabi
Herein lies Ibn al-ʿArabi’s twofold importance for contemporary Muslims. It is not only the content of the Greatest Master’s works that merits a deep study and appreciation, but perhaps more importantly his epistemology and the methodology through which he gleaned new meanings from both the sacred Muslim texts and the world around him.
First, it is important to note that in the history of Islamic thought, very few thinkers are as prolific as Ibn al-ʿArabi, with the most conservative efforts estimating the number of his works at over 250 full-length monographs. One of these, his magnum opus al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, (The Meccan Openings), spans over 560 chapters and 6400 pages.
In his introduction to Sufi Path of Knowledge, William Chittick emphasizes that this voluminous work is neither a philosophical treatise with neatly categorized chapters nor a chaotic stream of consciousness.2 Rather, there is an organic movement that tethers the subtle threads of each page and chapter, much like intersecting galaxies that miraculously embrace yet never collide.
In turn, Chittick states that given what we know about the process of writing this work, whereby Ibn al-ʿArabi received its various excerpts as fragments of inspiration during three decades of travel, the author of Sufi Path of Knowledge concludes that “one must admit that this work was divinely inspired.”3 Ibn al-ʿArabi himself would describe this divine inspiration as standing at an “ocean without a shore and a shore without an ocean.”4
Deciphering the meaning of this expression opens the way to understanding the importance of Ibn al-ʿArabi for the present day and age. By ‘ocean’ and ‘shore’ here Ibn al-ʿArabi intends the bāṭin (inward) and ẓāhir (outward) dimensions of the Quran. The Greatest Master is paying homage in this perspective to the hadith of the Prophet ﷺ: “Every verse of the Quran has an outward, inward, ḥadd [definition] and maṭlaʿ [overlook]”.5
But Ibn al-ʿArabi’s vision of the Quran is not limited to the recited scripture. As is prevalent among many Muslim saints, the Greatest Master regards God’s revelation to be of three types: al-kitāb al-maṣṭūr (the lined book- such as the Quran), al-kitāb al-marqūm (the ciphered book – which is the human being) and al-kitāb al-manẓūr (the witnessed book – which is the cosmos).
An allusion to this harmony between the three scriptures can be found in the Quran: “We will surely show them our signs in the horizons and in their own selves until it is apparent to them that huwa (it [the Quran]/ he [the Prophet ﷺ]/ He [God] )is the truth” (41:53). The term āyah, which means both ‘verse’ of the recited scripture and visible ‘sign’ in the witnessed scripture also linguistically performs this harmony.
Ibn al-ʿArabi takes this correlation to its utmost lengths and depths. Just as the recited scripture contains verses and words, so is each human being also a kalimatullah (word of God). Moreover, just as each word in the Quran has an outward and inward meaning, so does the human being also have an outward body and inward spirit. Our bodies are the form and metaphor, while our spirits are the meaning beyond language.
Ibn al-ʿArabi’s mastery of Arabic also allows him to creatively weave new metaphysical narratives based on the etymological relationships between Quranic terms. He takes the correlation between the recited and human scriptures to a deep frontier of embodiment: the ẓāhir (outward) alludes to the ẓahr (back) of the human being while the bāṭin (inward) signifies the baṭn (stomach). In turn, the bāṭin meanings of scripture – both recited and human – is the vessel of spiritual sustenance that grants the strength to carry the burdens of the ẓāhir.
In another linguistic turn, Ibn al-ʿArabi places the name of the recited scripture, quran, alongside its other description as furqan, which means ‘criterion’. However, the Greatest Master prefers to stand at the shore and linger at the literal root of furqan, farq (separation). In this case, quran should have a meaning that contrasts more directly with this idea of separation, as opposed to how the term is usually translated, ‘recitation’.
Instead, Ibn al-ʿArabi creatively tethers the term quran to the root qarana (to bring together). Therefore, the recited scripture can both be viewed from the perspectives of farq (separation) into distinct verses or chapters and iqtirān (togetherness), as a singular meaning from God. Likewise, the human being is singular in his entity yet at the same time consisting of different organs, parts and dimensions.
More importantly, just as the language of the recited scripture must be learned and understood, its grammar digested and rhetoric appreciated, so does Ibn al-ʿArabi also behoove us to decipher the grammar and rhetoric of the human and cosmic scriptures. Indeed, the Greatest Master is not unique in this perspective, for this is an ancient vision that traces its origins to the Greeks: the mirroring between the universe as macrocosm and human being as microcosm is reiterated by a narration attributed to either the Prophet ﷺ or Imam Ali b. Abi Talib: “The sickness and cure are within you. You assume yourself to be something small, while the greater universe is enfolded within.”6
And so, just as the recited revelation must be regarded as sacred, the same should be granted to the full spectrum of human experiences and story of the universe. But this approach requires a central metaphysical foundation that is present in Ibn al-ʿArabi’s vision yet wholly absent from modern Islamic theology: ʿālam al-khayāl (the realm of imagination).
The Realm of Imagination
As is the case with Ibn al-ʿArabi’s entire metaphysics, his approach to the realm of imagination is thoroughly Quranic. He relies on the well-known verse: “He merged the two seas, they meet. Between them is a barzakh [liminal barrier], they do not transgress” (55:19-20) The Greatest Master regards the two bodies of water mentioned in this verse, fresh and salty, as allusions to the malakūt (spiritual) and nāsūt (physical) realms respectively.
In turn, the barzakh or liminal interstice between the fresh water of the spirit and salty water of the body is ʿālam al-khayāl (the realm of imagination). Ibn al-ʿArabi describes this intermediary abode as one where “spirits are embodied, and bodies are spiritualized.”7 Spirits are non-dimensional beings while our physical bodies are dense. Neither of them can manifest in the realm of the other. For this reason, the barzakh is the impartial interstice where they can communicate.
The neglect of this realm from our religious education, due to the influence of Averroesian Aristotelianism that served as the foundation of contemporary Western philosophy and which has in turned permeated our modern approach to Islamic theology, has led to countless problems, not only in spiritual education but also cultural growth and integration.
Ibn al-ʿArabi emphasizes that ʿālam al-khayāl is not only an independent metaphysical realm, but also has a mirror inside the human being, known as the ‘imaginative faculty’. This is unsurprising since the human being is a microcosmic mirror of the universe. While the former abode is called al-khayāl al-muṭlaq al-munfaṣil (the absolute disjointed imagination), its mirror in the human being is known as al-khayāl al-muqayyad al-muṭṭaṣil (the limited connected imagination).
When human beings dream or receive creative inspiration, our imaginative faculty tethers itself to its cosmic mirror and a tangible spiritual communication takes place. So emphatic is Ibn al-ʿArabi about the sacredness of human imagination that he states in the Meccan Openings: “Every human being with an imagination, when they imagine, their gaze extends into the Divine Imagination.”8
Notice that he does not limit such visions to Muslims or even believers. Rather, the creative act itself can only be of divine origin. Again, Ibn al-ʿArabi roots himself here in the Quran, where it is stated that “God creates you and what you do” (37:96). Individual human art and its collective convergence as ‘culture’ emerges in this Akbarian vision as a matrix of humanity’s sacred longing for meaning.
Modernity and Cultural Isolation
As we trace our steps from Ibn al-ʿArabi’s time to ours, and then back again to our recent past to decipher the causes of our current situation, we come to realise that the omission of sacred imagination from our education and discourse is but the tip of the iceberg. Rather, it is the wholesale neglect of the metaphysics like that of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s that has led to an identity crisis among our youth and a deep sense of cultural isolation both within the Western Muslim community as well as between us and other religious denominations.
It is important to realise that culture, as a coming together of individual sparks of creative inspiration, is a collective creative expression of a society’s metaphysics. To quote T.S. Eliot, culture is an instance of “the intersection of timeless with time … an occupation for a saint.”9 If we were to analyze the greatest cultural epochs of our age, such as Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter, the DC or Marvel Universes, we would find subtle acts of rendering a sacred tradition in a modern clothing.
Joseph Campbell, who mentored George Lucas and inspired the Star Wars universe, speaks in the Power of Myth about the inevitable hero’s journey that each of us must take. Ibn al-ʿArabi reiterates this almost 8 centuries prior by emphasising that every seeker to God must experience a spiritual miʿrāj (ascension), in their own inner microcosm.
Ibn al-ʿArabi calls us to more than just a revival of metaphysics or new readings of the Quran. Rather, he forces us to question our entire epistemology that has been assaulted and colonised by modernist and imperialist agendas. However, he calls us to this act of liberation not to dismiss our contemporary culture, but to appreciate its sacred glimpses with an ancient vision of expansive universalism, yet one that is rooted in tradition.
To quote another Sacred Footsteps article, Does the Muslim World Need an ‘Islamic Reformation’?– we may now conclude, with a certain creative license from Ibn al-ʿArabi, that the Greatest Master has in mind and heart the truest sense of reformation: to re-form or clothe the summit of Islamic spirituality in a siren song with a new form or dress that still speaks from the peak, but in a contemporary tongue. He is neither interested in raising hell nor lowering heaven, but rather to help us perceive the sacred within the mundane and taste the presence of God in the messiness of everyday life.
For, as He says: “And He is with you wherever you are” (57:4)
Footnotes
- James Morris, Ibn ʿArabi and His Interpreters Part II: Influences and Interpretations. ↩︎
- William Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, x-xv. ↩︎
- Ibid. ↩︎
- Ibn al-‘Arabi, The Fabulous Gryphon ↩︎
- Narrated by Abdullah b. Mas’ud and found in Tabarani. ↩︎
- Diwan of Imam Ali b. Abi Talib. ↩︎
- Ibn Al-Arabi, The Meccan Openings II, 311. ↩︎
- Ibid III, 47. ↩︎
- T.S. Eliot, The Dry Salvages. ↩︎
