Introduction
In July 2024, three days before the inauguration of Tariqa
Eliyahu’s new group in Safed, I met with
Professor Paul Fenton in Tiverya to ask
his advice on the mode and format of our group’s Dhikr/Hazkarah meetings. Foremost in our discussion were issues
relating to Judeo-Arabic mantras and, in particular,to a medieval poem that I
had come across “by chance” that very week. *1
It was a short fragment from the pen
of Yehuda Al-Harizi (1165-1225): a song that he intended should be sung to a tune
known as "Ototenu". It made an
instantaneous and strong impact on me from the moment I first saw it: and
once the Safed group had become established, my
intention was to make its first lines the opening dhikr mantra at
our weekly meetings. It has now taken that place of honour in
Tariqa Eliyahu's contemplative practice: one of the three special mantras that form the Wird (litany) used in our group’s public and private practice.
On discovering this poem I experienced
a strong intuitive awareness of what I
imagined the rest of the poem might mean— not
so much in the author’s mind — but to me, as one seeking some
of its potential spiritual messages.
Having no skill in Judeo-Arabic of my own, I
am not able to translate
Al-Harizi’s original poem, but instead, in this essay I have produced a free adaptation from
various English language translation sources. What you
will see here is therefore not an
academic or linguistically sure translation but a commentary.
It is
a mysterious and mystifying text that may be interpreted in
countless ways, as is the case with any skilfully written
poem — but with the help of my friends, I
made several attempts to identify the possible meanings that might emerge
from their differing readings of its Judeo-Arabic otot (characters).
In this process I was assisted enormously in the attempt to remain true to the author (Al-Harizi) by the kind advice of Daniel Marcou*2 ,who sourced a transliteration for me; and by Paul Salahuddin Armstrong*3,who offered guidance on several possible elusive nuances in the Arabic text.
In this essay I will share (i) the Judeo-Arabic
text; (ii) the adaptation in English; and (iii)
my brief line-by-line Hegyon HaLev *4 commentary
on it.
But
first, I will begin with a short account of Yehuda Al Harizi’s life and his significance in
relation to our Tariqa and also to our
group in Safed.
On Yehuda Al-Harizi
Yehuda
Al-Harizi (1165-1225) was born in Toledo (Northern Spain) but moved to Provence
(circa 1215). His Islamic biographer gave his full name as: Yahya Ibn
Suleiman Ibn Shaul Abu Zakharya alHarizi Al–Yehudi. The appelation “Al-Harizi” indicates that his
family was originally from Jerez in Southern Spain. He died in Aleppo in December 1225.
During his time in Provence, he translated numerous Arabic and Judeo-Arabic works into Hebrew—These included HaRambam’s Guide and part of his Commentary on the Mishna. He also translated Al-Hariri’s collection of poems entitled “The Maqamat of Itiel” (maqamat being a term which describes both the stations of the sufi path, and also an Arabic musical/poetic form).
His own most famous work was Sefer
Tahkemoni, whose form was based on that of the Maqamat of Itiel. Sefer Tahkemoni
also records many details of Al Harizi’s extensive journeys
in the Middle East. It is a work
written with great literary skill, following classical Arabic poetic forms
meticulously but with considerable originality and elegance. In countless
passages, it is also remarkably secular
and earthy in tone.
When I first published a draft of this essay in September 2024 I wrote that “It is likely that — en route from Jerusalem to Syria he may also have visited Safed where his popular songs will certainly have been sung.”*5 But I was subsequently informed by Dr. Yosef Stepansky that the visit of Yehuda Al-Harizi to Safed is actually a definite occurrence, and that it took place sometime around 1218.
In a
passage from chapter 46 of Al Harizi’s Tahkemoni, we read:
“I passed by Safed, and there I discovered the chosen one of God: Tzadok HaTzadik, the Rosh Yeshiva Gaon Yaakov” *6 Remarkably, and again ¨coincidentally¨, Dr. Stepansky had
himself discovered an inscription in
Gush Halav (Jish) in the Safed
countryside that bore what might be the name of that very same person.*7
In September, I was aware of the deep
connections between Al Harizi and the
writings of the Rambam, but was
delighted to discover a paper by Professor Fenton*8 ( only last week) in which I read that Yehuda
had also passed through Alexandria
and Fostat in 1215-1216. From that paper, I was most excited to discover that Yehuda Al Harizi was actually a guest in the Maimuni’s own home
there and had close contact with R.Abraham ben HaRambam. I had been totally unaware of this when I first stumbled across the Ototenu
Song of Al Harizi.
Though highly critical of certain
superficially motivated Jewish-Sufi mystics in Fostat, his documented and
ardent support of the work of Rabbenu Abraham himself must surely
indicate his approval of the true
Jewish-Sufi hasidim he will have
encountered in Fostat, and
one wonders if the Sufic tenor of
his Ototenu poem may have been
the result of
experience with the Jewish-Sufis there.
In various other poems from the
pen of Al Harizi that are quoted
and discussed by Professor Fenton, Al
Harizi praised the leadership of Rabbenu Abraham ben HaRambam and
described him as being “young in
years but great in knowledge”. Comparing the
Rambam to his son Rabbenu Abraham, Al Harizi writes:
“One light subsided, but another
emerged. When the one vanished, the other appeared ...The Lord embellished the
community of Fustat through him, And He graced it with his agreeable works. He
built within it beauty, whose foundation will never collapse, And whose banner will
never be overturned” *9
May
our Tariqa rejoice that by reciting the “Ototenu” mantra
from Yehuda Al Harizi we are also making
a connection with someone who had not only been in Safed, but who also
knew Rabbenu Abraham personally.
oooOooo
THE SONG OF Al HARIZI
“He, He, I have no one except Him, and I have [....] His hope. Lord of the House,do what Thou wishest, I have come.... They say “who is He?”, But we have hidden it; the Truth, may His names be blessed.Today my reward will come to you,like this He will give you your book to read.” *10
At our meeting in Tiverya, Professor Fenton
suggested that the missing words in the second line (in parenthesis above) should
be “hoped for”, which would
give the reading “And I have hoped for His hope”. In view of his singular expertise and experience in the field it is
extremely likely that this is the
correct textual reading.
Nevertheless, in this commentary, and with great poetic licence, I elected to read “hope” as “expectation” and re-imagined the original text to suggest that the phrase describes the casting-away of theological ‘presuppositions’ once the gnostic Truth of Divine Reality has been revealed. But this is merely my own novel chidush and it does not negate the pshat (as it were) in any way.
Here then is my own English adaptation:
Oh He! Oh He! — I have none but He, With all expectations discarded.
O Master of the House—I come before You. Do with me whatever You wish
They ask ‘Who is this “He”?’—but only He can
say.
For He alone is The Truth—The One whose Names are Holy.
Today, may your efforts be rewarded—like
this:
He will give you your very own book to read.
Oh He! Oh He! — I Have none but He
*
Yehuda Al-Harizi was writing
in Arabic. He was Jewish, and yet his song begins with a line that
is startlingly reminiscent of Islamic-Sufi dhikr:
יא הוא יא הוא מא לי אלא הוא
Ya Huwa! Ya Huwa! ma li illa Huwa
Oh He! Oh He!
I have none but He.
This is
our opening dhikr mantra in Safed—recited scores of times; often
to a simple chanted melody; sometimes with breathing exercises and movement;
sometimes with the “saw dhikr”
enunciation of the Mamluk and
Ottoman Rifa’i Sufis who were so active
in our city; sometimes fading
into silent repetitions. *11
In a
recent essay on this website outlining
some similarities and differences
between Islamic-Sufi Dhikr and Jewish-Sufi Dhikr,*12 I
noted the significance of the Divine
Name “He”, both in Sufism and in classical Jewish contemplative practice. In both
Hebrew and in Arabic, this word is spelled “Hu” though in Arabic it also takes on the form Huwa/Hua.
As a single word (Huwa!), in combination with the name “Allah”, (Allah
Huwa!), or in the form “Oh He!” (ya
Huwa!) it has always been a
favourite dhikr mantra in
Islamic-Sufi circles.
Most significantly for our Jewish Tariqa, the single word “HU” (הוא) itself is also regarded as a Divine Name in the Talmud (Shabbat 104a). Fortuitously, the Arabic exclamation “Ya!” resonates within Judaism—because the hebrew word “Yah” is also a Biblical Divine Name.
Perhaps
the phrase “I have none
but He” might seem somewhat forlorn
if one were to read it as an expression of mere spiritual poverty and
asceticism—as if the hasid were simply describing
his laudable lack of possessions and attachments. But I would suggest that it should
be read as “I worship only He” with the
sense of: I will not have or permit myself any belief or reliance on any other uncreated or
created being: putting my trust and
faith in G-d alone.
Thus the poem begins with a passionate and loving declaration of monotheistic faith— The hasid of the song will accept no intermediary or duality and declares that he will not waver from that tenet. ‘ADN Hu haElohim bashamayim v’al ha aretz mitachat ein od.’*13
With all expectations discarded.
(I have hoped ..with ..His Hope )
*
The
truly devoted one is completely focused on the
Divine Presence. All attachment to things material and physical has been cast away. Every
preconception, and attempted description of G-d has become meaningless, and
every hope, desire,presupposition, or
plan for personal attainment has been surrendered— subsumed into the
overpowering intuitive gnosis that G-d is All.
There is no other. There is
nothing but G-d.
This awareness is the goal of all Jewish-Sufi mystical systems. The tachlit towards which we all travel that few can approach but all of us seek—The endlessly-distant spiritual horizon that is usually only encountered in flashes and glimpses in this world, the sight of which encourages us to “die before we die”.*14
Professor Fenton had suggested that this
phrase might read: “I have hoped for his hope”. Adjusting this slightly
to read “I have hoped with His Hope”” we
might comment:
The hopes and
expectations that we may have are themselves generated by Divine input.
Thus “our hope” is actually “His Hope” and one
might then recast the line to
read: “I have hoped with His Hope”.
Any
expectations we might have of intimacy with G-d, and any expectations we may have of
making progress, are dependent upon His
Gift. If He had not placed the desire
for intimacy and union with Him inside
one’s soul, no such desire would exist.
This is the dynamic of the hadith
an-nawafil, for G-d becomes the hasid’s ‘hearing with which he shall hear, and
the sight with which he shall see’.
Master of the
House, I come before You
Do with me whatever you wish.
*
The
Arabic word for lord or master that is used here is “rabb”. In Sufism, the “rabb” is the
root cause of a thing. G-d is the
only Cause—the only true Lord and Sovereign: both of the house which is the receptive soul of the salik (seeker) and
of
the “house” which is our earthly
dwelling. That “house” also signifies His entire Creation: for there are worlds and beings of His making
which we are simply not equipped to
perceive or comprehend. He is “Melech,Yachid,
El, Hei HaOlamim” *15: the Ruler of all worlds—the
Seen and Unseen/concealed (עָלוּם)
If the “Rabb” is the Murshid (the guiding leader of
a Tariqa) then this stich describes the
reliance of a Murid (disciple/student) on the guidance of his or her spiritual
director: whether that Murshid is a living Saint or an Uwaysi person,
figure, or archetype. *17
Ultimately it becomes clear that in reality, there
is only
One True Murshid — G-d Himself.
The Sufic understanding of this
takes into account the notion that the
devotee’s own soul is the maqom,
the “locus” (as it were) of the educational process referred to here.
If the
hasid is truly reliant on G-d alone and makes no request for spiritual gifts,
leaving any concern about his/her status on any scale of enlightenment behind, then he/she will have grasped something of the importance of equanimity as presented in R.
Abraham’s Kifaya. In the
following Kifaya extract we read
words which could almost have been written by Al Harizi as a commentary on
his own Ototenu poem:
“The person who delivers his concerns... to God... divests himself of all
hope and seeking, so that it is all the
same to him whether he achieves
the object or its opposite. He is satisfied with whatever God decrees and does” *17
And
“David
said, If I find favour in God’s eyes, He
will restore me and show
me His love and
His Temple, But if He says ‘I do
not want
you’ I am prepared. He may do with me as is
fit in His eyes.” *18
oooOooo
In my September draft of this essay,and using various shades of meaning suggested to
me by Paul Armstrong, I re-interpreted
the phrase ואנא
קד גית פי
מא מואה אצנא מא
שית to
read: “Guide us safely on the
Path – To arrive at the place
that You shall choose”. If one makes use of
this somewhat fanciful reading: I might
offer the following personal commentary:
“O Master of the
House—Guide us safely on the Path
To arrive at the
place that You shall choose.”
What is the
Path? The Path
spoken of is the Sufi “Way”, the “Suluk al-Khass” (the special and elite
path) described by Rabbenu Abraham ben HaRambam in the Kifaya— and the House referred to is the particular Sufi
Order/Tariqa to which a salik (seeker) belongs. Each Sufi Order is a “beit”— like a family unit. Each with its own characteristics,customs, and even
mission.
And what is “the
place He should choose”? Perhaps
it is a reference to the Third Temple of
each individual’s Heart, and it is the Maqam (station) and Hal (state) which
G-d has predestined for each
disciple.
Though sufic tradition states that one’s effort may enable one to rise from one maqam to another—
in truth, as the poem has already insisted: all progress is dependent on G-d’s will, for He will be gracious
to whomsoever He will be
gracious.*19
If the
“House” referred to is the “Eidah” of a Tariqa meeting for prayer, then we ask the Mighty One to guard—
as the apple of the eye— those who declare His Unity, asking that He guide his
congregation as they are engaged in hazkarah. (Na gibor dorshei
yehudcha kavavat shomreim, Yachid geih l’amcha pnei zochrei kedushatecha)*20
But however we interpret Yehuda al Harizi’s
words, this section in the poem
expresses the utmost submission to the
Divine will, without any thought
of reward or punishment.
In this expectant act of prayer,one simply
stands before the Divine Throne in receptive contemplation
and declares: ‘Hineini’: ‘Here I am, at your service’ in the manner of a humble servant or an obedient
soldier.
It is
this standing to attention in humble service that we attempt to generate
in our weekly meetings in Safed.
The very same expectant waiting on G-d was at the core of Kuntres Maarat HaLev (2005). When I wrote it, I was unaware that, in so many places in that book, I was describing classic Sufi concepts and practice. The sefer presents a simple method of receptive contemplative prayer. Simple in its content that is—but far from simple in its execution because it involves an extreme quieting of the restless mind over long periods of repeated and patient practice. The sefer does not give any detailed instructions, answers to questions from puzzled aspirants, or descriptions of what might ensue during such periods of receptive contemplation: as its aim was to impress upon the practitioner the importance of relying on G-d Alone: the only True Teacher.
In Kuntres Maarat Ha'Lev (2005) I
suggested the following practice:
“In a room where you are not seen or heard,
find a
spot where you are not likely to bump into anything.
Stand straight with your arms relaxed at your
side.
Close your eyes and keep them closed
After a few moments of vocal or mental prayer
Ask G-d to permit you to draw near and enter
into His Presence
When you feel ready and with eyes still closed
Slowly take three steps back,
Wait a moment,
Then very slowly take three steps forward
(through earthquake,wind and fire)
to draw near and to come into His Presence.
Then say:
LORD,
if there is something You would say to me,
Or
something that You would show me,
Or
something that you want me to do
HINEINI
[I AM HERE AT
YOUR SERVICE]
After which you should stand in profoundly
attentive silence
For as long as you feel you are being asked to.
[Retiring
with deep respect in three steps as before.]
The
aim of this method is to ‘create a space’ that can be filled with the
awareness/ immanence/ inspiration of the Divine. Consequently when one has
silenced the activity of the mind (as far as possible) and declared ¨HINEINI¨ one needs to be totally silent and free of verbal or
representational thoughts for the inspiration to enter.
Jewish
mystics have understood that this is extremely difficult to do and have most often advised the
practitioner to distract the brain with
word permutations or the recitation of repetitive mantras or the visualisation
of letters. These can all help, but I want to stress that my intention is that
one should (at least) strive to empty the mind of any
distracting thought in totally silent attentiveness for as long as is
possible.
Having said this, I will share the following.
I have found that it can help to reach
this ‘vacated silence’ if one mentally repeats the phrase “You not me”
or simply “You”, or perhaps “Ad-nai” (as one breathes in) and “Ani”
or “Hu” (as one breathes out) with closed eyes—and with intense visual
focus on what appears in the ‘darkness’.
More than this I should not say. You must follow your own
instinct/inspiration not mine.”*21
In the same little book, I wrote the following warning to the contemplative practitioner:
G-d speaks to all of us through the Torah She-bi’chtav (Written Torah) and the Torah She-ba’al Peh (Oral Torah). He also speaks to us in our own prayers and in our own private study and meditation. When we read the scriptures with pauses for meditation or when we meditate in silent prayer, we are hoping to access the Torah of the Heart.We know how and when we are called to action as a nation and as individuals through the words of the written and oral Torah—but we each receive that Torah according to our own abilities and character, and for this reason we also need to receive and digest those ‘words’ personally, in the Cave of the Heart, alone with our G-d.This Torah of the Heart is rarely accessed, but it really ought to be—for how else can we begin to hear the Voice which goes out daily from Sinai in our own times?Is anyone listening? Truly listening?What I have suggested is extremely simple: During private prayer, ask G-d to speak to you and then wait in humble silence to let Him respond. It is possible that you may only be able to hold your attention on listening out for Him to ‘speak’ for a minute or so before you lose concentration. But it is also possible (sometimes after years of making this effort) that you may find yourself standing there waiting for many minutes— or even hours—and cannot account for the time passing. But believe me, the Voice of Sinai is calling—if only we would listen. Our effort to do so may often seem to fail but we are commanded in the Sh’ma we recite daily to at least try. And try again.”*22
oooOooo
They ask ‘Who is this “He”?’— but only He can say.
For He alone is The Truth— The One whose Names are Holy.
*
Philosophical enquiry,Theological
speculation,verbose argumentation, and the
endless accumulation of other
people’s views and theories may help us to approach the true knowledge of
G-d— but they can also hinder our progress if they become all-consuming
distractions in themselves.
It is true that philosophical reflection, when
undertaken in solitude, can well be
the forerunner of mystical
enlightenment—but in the Sufic
understanding of these matters, only
the intuitive knowledge (dhawq) that emerges from actual time
spent alone with G-d can
come anywhere near that true
gnosis, and even then it is pure foolishness to think we can ever
understand or know G-d in Himself, for none knows G-d but G-d.
“He is the Knower, He is the Subject of
Knowledge, and He is the Knowledge itself, for All is One.” *23
The “Holy Names” referred to in the song are not magical charms or theurgic tools to be manipulated by
humans. Such a concept would be anathema
to Al Harizi, whose devotion to the
Rambam’s thought in this area was
total.
Maybe those Names are some kind of code to hide (or reveal) His
Presence, but even if they are: They are a code with only One Codebreaker and
they are His business not ours. So many
would-be mekubalim stray down
the winding path that such magical
and superstitious speculation spreads
before them and few come
out of the thicket they are lost in with any of the pure simplicity that is the goal of the Sufi Path.
The “Names” are often seen to be G-d’s Attributes,
for we can only sense His presence through what we perceive to be His actions— but,
once again— we must remember our organs
of perception are totally inadequate for we can never see Him and live.*24
We can only
imagine and suppose, and maybe
it is best if, out of a
profound sense of Awe, we do not even try.
Our human
lifespan is short and it seems to me
to be such a waste of time and
energy to entertain the notion that we can accumulate and manipulate
information (whether it be of an academic-literary or of a theurgical-magical kind) in an attempt to somehow pin-down
The Incomprehensible One we worship.
Nevertheless, by attempting to contemplate these attributes we can perhaps
feel/sense something of His activity in our world—usually retroactively
in retrospective contemplation, but
sometimes in a dramatic theophany from the
Eternal Present.
In this way, the signs (otot)that
He sends become our own (ototeinu).
By being attentive to the traces of His activity—to the
angels He sends in the form of
people, events, and texts— and the hints, and clues that they bear: we may yet learn to approach Him, both as His servants and as His
betrothed in devekut. We can but ‘hope with His
hope’ that this might be
possible.
For the mediaeval Egyptian Hasidim, the
aim of all their devotions was the attainment (wusul) of
contemplative intimacy with G-d.
The ultimate purpose of Sufi khalwah (solitary retreat) and dhikr(the remembrance
of G-d) is the attainment of a shiviti consciousness whereby the sufi keeps the “Name” of G-d ever in mind.
For R. Abraham ben HaRambam, the
hasid’s internal retreat —namely khalwah al
batina/hitbodedut (a term signifying silent contemplative concentration) was almost synonymous
with dhikr—the recollection of G-d’s Presence
in the soul. What
is more, R. Abraham believed that khalwah
al batina was more than just
the final step on the Path of the Jewish Sufi maqamat—it
was gnosis (wusul) itself, and
its highest expression was the gift of
prophecy.*25
In the Kifaya
he declares:
Hitbodedut/internal retreat (khalwah al batina)
is the clearing of the heart and
the mind [one’s rational
and imaginative faculties] of everything except Him,exalted be He, after
which the heart and mind are filled
with Him. This is achieved once the physical senses,or most of them, are subdued and when one withdraws from impulses and worldly
matters.*26
Some
members of the tariqa might
disagree with me, but it seems to
me that we should not become overly entangled in the details of any “science of the letters” or manipulations of the alphabetical Names—but that our focus should
be on uncluttering both the mind
and heart from ratiocination and mental chattering to allow Him to (as
it were)
get a word in edgeways. Our task is to clear the pool not fill it with debris.
Today, may your efforts be rewarded—like this:
He will give you your very own book to read.
*
The efforts we make
are all we can offer Him, even when we know that He cannot be
bribed or cajolled into granting us intimacy or clear
vision/audition: He may remove any ruah
ha kodesh or semi-prophetic insight
we thought we may have attained; He may
remove any actual sense of intimacy with the Divine
that we think we were blessed with. We may have to live on the vague
memory of such tangible awarenesses.
Yet we pray that something of our devotion—and something
of the efforts made in His service—may yet lead to the receipt of
His grace by all of us.
And
what is the reward spoken of in the poem’s concluding
line?
Perhaps
it is the
realisation that one’s own life-story is
a kind of Holy Scripture, a
re-enactment of the spiritual journey of
our Patriarchs but expressed in a unique
form within the heart and
mind of each individual.
This is an aspect of the Torah of
the Heart wherein each soul
recognises that it is being addressed personally by the Divine
Voice in terms specially
pre-destined to act as the guide
for each differentiated human being.
For us in Tariqa Eliyahu: perhaps it is
to show us that our silent
contemplation is ultimately our book
without words.
Perhaps
that book is the method of “hakhanah
ve-qedushah” spoken of by R. Abraham He-Hasid (d.circa 1223): namely, the process of
sanctification by which we prepare to
receive that Torah of the Heart anew in our own day.*27
And just as at Sinai, each one of us receives that
Torah individually and personally
according to each one’s decreed station
and state on the spiritual ladder.
It is
a scripture and a sefer that can only be
read by the individual who
receives it, though we may be permitted
to add the occasional letter or
word of our own.
If we listen
with all our might to what we read in that personalised and interior Book—and
if we guard and practice attentiveness to His Unity: He may
yet grant us the infused and intimate encounter
with the Divine that every Jewish-Sufi craves.
Whether we are engaged in recollection in external solitude or
whether we are practicing contemplative
concentration in a congregational
setting: Our silent contemplations are
our Tariqa’s specific Path and task.
It is not about us. Not about any focus on our personal progress or the nature of our individual awakening or awareness. It is simply surrendering to Him in unconditional love by being profoundly attentive.
In relation to this, I am reminded of the closing words of the
chapter on khalwah (Retreat) in the Kifaya of Rabbenu Abraham Maimuni:
“Outward retreat is part of the journey, while inward retreat begins as a journey but ends as a destination. And the last one is equal to all the rest” *28
oooOooo
-May our humble but passionate
efforts be rewarded by the All-Merciful.
-May we be blessed to be granted some measure of nearness to G-d in
this life, before we die.
-May our Tariqa wake up the sleepers who are called to walk the Suluk
al-Khass that leads to prophecy.
Amen, Amen, v’Amen
אהרון-נחמן בן אברהם
(Nachman Davies)
Safed
December 23 2024
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FOOTNOTES
*1 MS. T.-S. H 10/18 (TS Box H 10.18, 2, recto, ll. 6, 9–10) in: S. M. Stern Some Unpublished Poems by al-Harizi in The Jewish Quarterly Review Vol. 50, No. 4 (Apr., 1960), pp. 346-364 University of Pennsylvania Press.
*2 Daniel Marcou is a long-standing and devoted member of Tariqa Eliyahu HaNabi and a student of Jewish-Sufi texts and practice, especially as presented in the Maqala al-Hawdiyya of R. Obadyah ben Abraham Maimuni.
*3 Paul Salahuddin Armstrong is the Muslim chaplain for Birmingham University in the U.K. A respected cleric and scholar, he has a deep Sufi experience as a leader within the Nasqshbandi tradition. His interfaith work in the UK and in Indonesia is well-known and much appreciated, as is his support of Tariqa Eliyahu.
*4 . Hegyon Ha Lev is the
term I use for Lectio Divina: usually an immediate intuitive
response or a new insight that arises from taking a pause to contemplate the meaning of
each phrase. All done with the
conscious intention of being open to
inspiration. Thus I view it as a kind of training in prophetic skill. On
this, see the latter part of the essay
at:
https://jewishcontemplatives.blogspot.com/2021/05/the-torah-of-heart-shavuot-2021.html
*5 We know for certain that Al-Harizi’s fragmentary poem “Ya Huwa” was a song rather than just a poem because the manuscript itself specifies that it was to be sung to a “well-known” tune called “Ototenu”.
In a footnote to a
passing mention of this, R.
Russ-Fishbane writes:
“See the manuscript, TS Box H 10.18, l. 5. It
is worth noting that the only use of the word ototenu in the Bible is in Ps.
74:9: “We no longer see our signs; a prophet is no longer among us...” One
wonders whether there is a connection between the title and theme of the poem
and songs of longing for prophetic restoration among the pietists.” (from
page 125 in his “Judaism,Sufism,and the Pietists
of Mediaeval Egypt”)
..................
We might also identify a connection between the Al Harizi poem and Psalm 25. Whilst reciting the Elul selichot last night —and immediately after writing this essay’s first draft— I noticed that this psalm contains mentions of “hope” and being “guided on a path”. Even more remarkably it contains the following verses which reflect the themes of the Al-Harizi poem: “The secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him, and His covenant is to let them know”.(verse 14) and “He will guide him on the road that he chooses”. (verse 12).
*6 Yehuda Al-Harizi, Tahkemoni, from https://torahdownloads.com/assets/attachments/05zion1.pdf
*7 Stepansky Y. 1999. The ‘Yeshivat Geon Yaakov’ Inscription from Gush Halav: An Archaeological Find That Sheds Light on Medieval Galilean Jewry. Cathedra 93:67-80
*8 Fenton P. “An Andalusi Poet in the Land of the Pharaohs:Judah al-Ḥarīzī’s Account of His Visit to the Jewish Communities of Egypt (circa 1216)” in: Israel in Egypt: The Land of Egypt as Concept and Reality for Jews in Antiquity and the Early Medieval Period (Leiden: Brill, 2020), pp. 566-594
*9 Yehuda Al Harizi, Kitāb al-Durar, 106–8, ll. 221–233 (Arabic; ET, 77*) translated by Professor Fenton
*10 S. M. Stern Some Unpublished Poems by al-Harizi
*11 On Dhikr and breathing: In common with many Eastern systems of contemplative prayer, and also (possibly) because of direct yogic influence, most Sufi orders stress the importance of breathing techniques and/or movement in their Dhikr. Some orders practice totally silent mantra recitation with virtually no movement at all, and others favour mantra practices that are entirely vocal and physical.
I have deliberately refrained from insisting on a single mode of breathing or postural practice in Tariqa Eliyahu dhikr meetings. Partly because I want each member to have a free and flexible choice in this area, but also because I think that focus on technique and breathing patterns belong to lower stages of contemplative development. My recommendation is that we begin meetings with around fifteen minutes of unison vocal recitation and then around forty five minutes of totally silent mental dhikr, during which a Tariqa member is free to continue mantra medition silently— or any form of mental prayer that (they feel) suits both their temperament and their maqam (stage) in spiritual development.
This attitude underlines my belief that our regular Tariqa meetings should have a distinctly sober character—Our Dhikr focusses on receptive contact with G-d and too much concern with movement and articulation of the physical body can actually become a false goal or an obstacle and a source of distraction on the Path. Nevertheless: we also envisaged occasional Sema meetings where music, movement, and dance can take a much more prominent role (in deference to the practices of the B’nei Nevi’im), but these would require larger numbers than we have at present. It is conceivable that the Tariqa might (one day) sometimes engage in congregational circle dance practice and a greatly extended preliminary-chanting practice: but it would be my hope that it would always be followed by a static and silent period of receptive prayer, for that is the “Special Path” (Suluk al-Khass) of our Tariqa, and it is our mission to promote it.
*12 see the essay “Dhikr:
The Remembrance of G-d” at
https://jewishsufis.blogspot.com/2024/08/dhikr-remembrance-of-g-d.html
*13 “The L-RD He is Elo-im, in the heaven’s above and
the earth below,there is no other” (from the
Aleinu prayer)
*14 “mutu qabla an tamutu” (a reference to the sufic concept of fana. The phrase is thought by some to be a hadith of the Prophet Muhammad.)
*15 “King, Only One, G-d, Life of all
the Worlds” (from the
first and last blessing of pesukei
dzimra)
*16 UWAYSI: The term Uwaysi refers to a sufi whose
initiation or practice is derived from a teacher who they have never met but
who has influenced them profoundly. The
teacher may be a living or
deceased Saint, or a book, or some form
of direct Divine inspiration with or without
an intermediary.
*17 Abraham Maimuni: Kifaya trans Wincelberg.Y, The Guide to Serving G-d, Feldheim, Jerusalem,2008 p 313
*18 Abraham Maimuni: Kifaya trans Wincelberg.Y, The Guide to
Serving G-d, p 317
*19 Shemot 33:19
*20 Ana B’koach ... A principal prayer used in the Tariqa Eliyahu Wird/Litany
during Dhikr. Its supposed author was the first-second century Tanna, Nehunya ben
HaKanah It was originally written in
Safed, but we sing it to a tune by R.
Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev.
*21 Davies Nachman: The Cave of
the Heart- Kuntres Maarat HaLev
(2005) page 50
*22 Davies Nachman: The Cave of the Heart- Kuntres Maarat HaLev p 25
*23 Ha Rambam: Yesode HaTorah 2:10 (also
quoted by Abraham Abul’Afiya in Ms.Munich
folio 26b where he refers to G-d
as Sekhel,Maskil, and Muskal.
*24 Shemot 33:20
*25 Abraham Maimuni: Kifaya trans. S.
Rosenblatt; The High Ways to Perfection of Abraham Maimonides, vol.
II, (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1938). page 382
*26 Abraham Maimuni: Kifaya trans.
S. Rosenblatt page 38
*27 On the “hakhanah ve-qedushah” at Sinai see https://jewishsufis.blogspot.com/2024/05/the-communal-khalwa-hitbodedut-of-sinai.html
*28 Abraham
Maimuni: Kifaya trans Wincelberg.Y,
The Guide to Serving G-d, p531
