Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500-1800 (46 page)

Nābulusī defends this bold claim by showing that several of the companions of the Prophet were handsome, beardless youths. For instance, Mu‘ādh ibn Jabal is reported to have converted at the age of eighteen, and was twenty-one when the Prophet died. He was said to be “tall, and of lovely hair, and big eyes, and bright white teeth.” Nevertheless, uncontroversial traditions related that the Prophet once said to him, “I love you
(innī la-uhibbuka),
Mu‘ādh,” and that Mu‘ādh replied, “nd I love you,” whereupon the Prophet gave him instructions on what to say at the conclusion of a prayer.
218
Similarly uncontroversial traditions related that Zayd ibn al-Hārithah, who at the age of eight was bought and freed from slavery by Muhammad, was ”the love of the Prophet of God
(hibb Rasūl Allah).”
Zayd’s son Usāmah, who was nineteen when the Prophet died, was—again according to uncontroversial traditions—“the love, son of the love
(al-hibb ibn al-hibb).”
219
According to one tradition, the Prophet had also said: “He who loves God, let him love Usāmah ibn Zayd.”
220
The Prophet thus “oved” several young male companions, and enjoined his followers to “ove” them too. Anyone who finds fault with loving a handsome beardless youth is therefore finding fault with behavior that can be attributed to the Prophet and that was endorsed in his sayings—and this is incompatible with being a believing Muslim. Similarly, the jurists who proclaim that it is not permissible to look at a beardless boy are prohibiting something that it is reasonably certain that the Prophet did, which again is incompatible with being a Muslim.
221
Of course, the love in question was devoid of lust. However, this does not invalidate the major point that Nābulusī was interested in making, namely that those who ”look at handsome countenances and like to see beauty in created forms
(yanzurūna ilā al-wujūh al-hisān wa-yuhibbūna ru’yat
al-famāl fī
al-suwar)”
are in the right.
222
Nābulusī was committed to the idea that the “handsome countenances” which reveal divine beauty could be both women and beardless youths. However, in
Ghāyat al-matlūb
he was especially eager to show that it is permissible, indeed recommendable, to look at and love handsome male youths. He repeatedly made use of the same argument that Burton encountered in the late nineteenth century, namely that looking at boys is more often devoid of lust, and hence less problematic, than looking at the opposite sex.
223
Furthermore, the elements of religious tradition which Nābulusī adduced in support of mystical aestheticism are especially relevant to the love of boys. Nābulusī traced the ancestry of the mystical contemplation of beauty back to the Qur’anic passages (2:34,7 : 11, 17: 61, 18: 50, 20: 116) which describe how God ordered the angels to “bow” or “prostrate” themselves before Adam, and how Satan alone refused to do so, appealing to the baseness of the material from which the first human was created. The relevance of this incident to Nābulusī becomes clear when he, on the basis of several traditions, asserted that Adam was created as a beardless youth.
224
In his view, the angels prostrating themselves before Adam are the archetype of the mystics contemplating the beauty of beardless youths, while Satan’s refusal to bow before what he considered a creature made of clay is the archetype of those antimystical scholars who insist that all there is to see in a handsome youth is his tempting flesh:
You blamer who in ignorance blamed me for loving that precious boy!
What do we care for the ignorant, seeking us out with baseless words and a vile mind!
In beauty and masculinity there is a secret unknown except to the sanctified ...
If you equate the handsome and the ugly amongst people, your reasoning is fallacious.
You were told: “Bow yourself to Adam”; you were not told: ”Bow yourself to Satan.”
225
 
Nābulusī also appealed to a widely accepted saying of the Prophet Muhammad according to which the angel Gabriel often appeared to him in the form of Dihyah al-Kalbī, a very handsome man from Mecca.
226
The examples adduced by Nābulusīof the Platonic, mystical love that he defends also tend to reveal a preponderance in favor of the love of youths: the love of Muhammad for Zayd ibn al-Hārithah, and Zayd’s son Usāmah; Ibn al-Fārid’s love for the young butcher; and the love of the great Persian poet and mystic Jalāl al-Dīn al-Rūmī(d. 1273) for his student and successor, Husām al-Dīn Çelebī, to whom he devoted his great
Mathnawī
.
227
It is tempting to relate the focus on the contemplation of beauty in male youths to Nābulusī’s personal history. He was said to have been especially fond of one of his students, Muhammad al-Dikdikjī (d. 1719), who was thirty years his junior. The Damascene mystic Mustafāal-Bakrī (d. 1749), who was a student of both, described Nābulusī’s feelings in terms that imply a strong emotional attachment: “He adopted him from his youth, since he was enraptured and captivated by his love
(tabannāhu fī al-sibā lammā hāma fī sabbibi wa sabā).”
The Damascene biographer Muhammad Khalīl al-Murādī (d. 1791) also noted that Nābulusī “loved” Muhammad al-Dikdikjī “intensely”
(kāna shadīd al-mahabbah lahu).
228
The following love poem by Nābulusī may well have been elicited by his feelings for his beloved student:
My heart is tossed high and low by a yearning that knows no bounds!
Woe! Woe unto me from the languid glance of one so young and delicate!
He’s a radiant moon if he appears; a succulent branch if he sways.
He looks with a gazelle’s eyes, but fills my heart with fear and trembling.
 
 
By God! By God! Have mercy upon me, 0 wispy shape!
Yearning has melted me, and undone the knot of patience.
What is the fault of my heart that it should be ever in flames?
 
All you people! Is there no one to help me?
Is fire the deserved lot of he who fancies
(yahwā)
Muhammad?
229
The only time that Nābulusī was known to have cried over a deceased was, according to a great-grandchild, when Dikdikjīdied.
230
It would undoubtedly be facile to classify Nābulusīas a “homosexual”—he was married and had children, and was eager to distinguish the mystical love he defended from illicit lust, let alone sodomy. Yet, one may suppose that Nābulusī conceived of the relationship with his student as an instance of the same type as the love of Ibn al-Fārid for the butcher boy, and that he would have empathized with Mulla Sadrā’s contention—mentioned in the previous chapter—that God had instilled in adult men a sensibility to youthful male beauty so that they would educate and care for youths.
Abd al-Rahman al-‘Aydarust
(1722-1778)
 
‘Abd al-Rahmān ibn Mustafā al-‘Aydarūsī was born in the Yemen, and traveled to India in his youth with his father.
231
He spent most of his adult life moving between the towns of Mecca, Medina, and Ta‘if in western Arabia, and the city of Cairo in Egypt, where he died. He was initiated into the ‘Aydarūsī and Naqshbandī mystical orders, and became widely recognized as a prominent mystical poet and thinker. While in Cairo, he was lionized by prominent Egyptian scholars such as the Rectors of the Azhar college ‘Abdallah al-Shabrāwī (d. 1758) and Muhammad al-Hafnī (d. 1767).
232
He was also the mystical master of Muhammad Murtadā al-Zabīdī(d. 1791), famous for his commentaries on the Arabic dictionary
(Qāmās)
of al-Fayrūzabādī (d. 14-15) and the
Ihyā’ ‘ulūmal-dīn
of AbūHāmid al-Ghazālī.
‘Aydarūsī’s poetry often evokes the theme of the mystical contemplation of beauty:
May God guard your beautiful visage! You marvelous form! You medicine for the ill!
You prevail over all those of lovely splendor; you enthrall everyone with your dark-lashed eye ...
I do not want anything from you except to catch a glimpse of the unbounded in that smooth cheek.
You who ask about our passionate love—our love for beauty is of this kind.
233
 
Another example is the following:
Revive the spirit with cups of wine, and pour it to us and to our noble companions.
And laud in verse those of loveliness, who are garbed with that most precious beauty.
And perceive the unbounded in the shapely young, and in every gazelle of dark-red lips.
234
 
The reference to wine may again raise the issue of the extent to which such verses should be taken literally. One may presume that ‘Aydarūsī, a widely respected religious notable, is not literally asking for wine. If, however, we are to understand the wine
(rāh)
symbolically, as commentators of mystical poetry typically did, then it may seem natural to ask why one should not understand “the shapely young” and “every gazelle of dark-red lips” in the same way. However, the analogy between “wine” and “gazelle” is not perfect. Mystical theoreticians did not claim that drinking wine was permissible, nor did they assign any experiential value to the drinking of wine. However, at least some influential mystical theoreticians did claim that contemplating human beauty was permissible, and that such contemplation could afford valuable mystical insight. One of those mystics was ʿAydarūsīhimself. In a work recording some of his poetic exchanges with contemporaries, he cited a poem sent to him from a Meccan belletrist named Badr al-Dīn ibn ʿUmar Khūj. In this poem, Badr al-Dīn excuses himself for not having written for some time, and complains that he has been suffering from fervent love for a beautiful but recalcitrant beloved. In reply, Aydarūsi wrote:
If you want the cure which is both distant and near, immerse yourself in love both secretly and openly.
And let your soul be lowly in love, and say: My lowliness in love has raised me.
And die in love—you will live happy and strengthened, and say: My death in love has revived me ...
Were it not for my absorption in the unreal, I would not on consideration be called “Man.”
235
Neither would I be dead in the lovers’ quarter, nor would He who is living make me forget the dead ...
 
‘Aydarūsī then appended some prose to his letter, urging the belletrist to “add the end to the beginning ... for love for the unreal is the bridge to the Truth
(al- ‘ishq al-majāzī qantaratu al-haqīqah).”
236
The same work by ‘Aydarūsī providesevidence that he at some stages in his life conceived a passion for at least one attractive person. For instance, he wrote that he once, while in a garden in Ta‘if, composed a short acrostic extolling “one of those of splendid appearance
(ba’d dhawī al-tal‘ātalbahiyyah).”
The first letter of each verse reveals the name Jamal, which is presumably the (male) name of the person extolled.
237
He further related that the above-mentioned Badr al-Dīn ibn ‘Umar Khūj then composed a couplet assuring ʿAydarūsīthatthose of beauty ought to be at his service, since he was a descendant of the Prophet and since all worldly beauty is derived from the Light of Muhammad.
238
The belletrist then added some lines in prose which ‘Aydarūsī decided not to cite ”out of reverence for God
(tawādu ʿan
li-al-Haqq).
239
In the same work, ‘Aydarūsī also reproduced a poetic exchange between him and an unnamed “beloved,” and adds at the end of it:
You who comes across the preceding verses: To think well of one’s fellows is appropriate to the trusted and steadfast, so think well of both parties and God will recompense you twice ... and I had initially decided not to include them in this book, but one of my friends deemed it appropriate, and appealed to the two lines of poetry attributed to the great scholar, author of
al-Tanbih
on Shāf‘īlaw, Abū Isḥāq al-Shīrāzī [d. 1083], may God be pleased with him:
I love young women without transgressing the law, and adore the cup without wine.
And my love is not for anything shameful, but I saw that love is the habit of the noble.
240
 
 
There are no analogous reasons to believe that ‘Aydarūsī ever drank wine.
The practice and underlying theory of what I have called “mystical aestheticism” was highly controversial. To many Islamic religious scholars, the idea that only God truly exists, and that the created world is but a manifestation of His attributes, was plain pantheism

ayniyyah)
or “incarnationism” (
ḥulūl
or
ittiḥād
). Throughout the Mamluk era (1250—15I7), controversies had erupted concerning the orthodoxy of Ibn ‘Arabī and Ibn al-Fārid. Among their more prominent opponents were scholars such as Ibn Taymiyyah (d. 1328), Ismā‘īl ibn al-Muqri’ (d. 1434), and Ibrāhīm al-Biqā‘ī (d. 1480).
241
By the early sixteenth century, the controversy seems to have abated somewhat. Authoritative scholars such as the Egyptians Jalal al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505) and Zakariyya al-Anṣārī (d. 1520), and the Ottoman Grand Mufti Kamāl Pashazade (d. 1534) expressed themselves, with varying degrees of caution, in favor of the two mystics.
242
As one of his first acts after conquering Syria and Egypt, the Ottoman Sultan Salīm I (r. 1512-20) paid homage to the tomb of Ibn ‘Arabī in Damascus, and ordered a mosque built at the site.
243
Hostility to Ibn ‘Arabī continued to be espoused by a few figures, such as Muhammad ibn Ismā‘īl al-Amīr in Yemen (d. 1768) and Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhāb (d. 1792) in central Arabia, and as the Wahhābī and Salafī movements inspired by these figures gained strength in the nineteenth century, such negative evaluations came to the fore again.
244
However, the dominant tendency amongst Sunnī Muslim scholars within the Ottoman Empire from 1500 to 1800 seems to have been to follow the more positive evaluations of Suyūṭī, Anṣārī, or Kamāl Pāshāzāde.
245
Yet, as has been remarked by Michael Winter, the evaluation was more in favor of the persons than their ideas. The attitude expressed by Suyūṭī and Anṣāīr was that the mystics in question were saints whose inspired words should not be judged by those who were strangers to their experiences and terminology. Indeed, Suyūṭī declared that reading the books of Ibn ‘Arabī was not permissible, even while he vigorously defended the mystic against the charge of heresy. The idea of the “unity of existence” continued to be the source of widespread anxiety. Nābulusī’s writings were often very polemical, which by itself suggests that the views he expressed were controversial. He seems to have been aware that mystical aestheticism was a particularly sensitive issue. In his commentary on the
Dīwān
of Ibn al-Farid, he referred to the
ignorant and heedless censurers who despise the people of God [i.e., the Sufis] and rebuke them, and accuse them of indecencies and ignominies of which they are innocent, especially if they are acquainted with whom they love from among the forms of divine manifestations and appearances.
246
 

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