Creative Hermeneutics a Comparative Analysis of Three Islamic Approaches

Creative Hermeneutics: A Comparative Analysis of Three Islamic ApproachesAuthor(s): Peter HeathSource: Arabica, T. 36, Fasc. 2 (Jul., 1989), pp. 173-210Published by: BRILLStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4056795 .Accessed: 19/04/2011 03:02

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CREATIVE HERMENEUTICS: A COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS OF THREE ISLAMIC

APPROACHES*

BY

PETER HEATH

No one knows its interpretation except God (3.7)

THE modern study of Islamic hermeneutics is in its infancy. One reason for this is the field's vastness. It involves dimensions of

almost all the traditional Islamic sciences: Qur'anic commentary, prophetic tradition, jurisprudence, dialectical theology, historiography, the study of Islamic sectarianism, grammar, rhetoric, mysticism, and philosophy. Each of these areas created particular conceptions of textual interpretation, each had its own methodologies, developed over centuries. Each arose and evolved through the efforts of individual participants, within the context of compkx webs of interstitial relationships maintained with other fields of study, in response to the needs of particular intellectual environments, the demands of different historical conditions'.

* An earlier version of this paper was presented at the Washington University Spring, 1987, Humanities seminar. Quotes from the Qur'dn are in italics; numbers in parentheses following them refer to chapter and verse(s). Unless otherwise noted, translations of quotes are mine.

I There are a large number of studies in each of the various fields that touch upon aspects of the methods of textual interpretation, but to my knowledge few studies address the subject directly. Leo Strauss's writings, such as his discussions of al-FHrabi and Maimonides in Persecution and the Art of Writing (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1952) 7-94, and ((Farabi's Plato,)) Essays in MedievalJewish and Islamic Philoso- phy, ed. A. Hyman (New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1977, reprinted from the Louis GinzbergJubilee Volume, 1945) 391-427 are important. L. Massignon and P. Nywia's studies on the development of Sz-fi terminology: Essai sur les origines du lexique technique de la mystiques musulmane, 2nd ed. (Paris: Vrin, 1954); and Exe'gese coranique et langage mystique. Nouvel essai sur le lexique technique des mystiques musulmans (Beirut: Dar el-Machreq, 1970), respectively, provide important source material and analysis. Also important are Mohammad Arkoun's essays, such as those collected in Lectures du Coran, Islam d'hier et d'aujourd'hui (Paris: G. -P. Maissonneuve et Larose, 1982) and Essais sur la penseie islamique (Paris: G.-P. Maisonneuve et Larose, 1973). H. Corbin's works, his section on ta'wil in Avicenna and the Visionary Recital (New York: Pantheon Books, 1960) 28-34, for example, or his ))Introduc-

Arabica, tome XXXVI, 1989

174 P. HEATH

Obviously, adumbrating the fourteen century history of individual Islamic hermeneutic traditions is a task which will require decades of sustained scholarly inquiry. But while engaging in such long-term investigation, it is useful to pursue simultaneously analytic approaches which attempt trans-disciplinary comparison. Such approaches are beneficial for two reasons. First, they allow scholars working in different fields to obtain wider perspectives of the particular methodology they are investigating and thus perceive more clearly how the hermeneutic methods and techniques that concern them are either unique or shared by other traditions. Second, comparative approaches foster the development of analytic scholarly methodologies which both participate in and transcend the internal scrutiny of individual traditions. They invoke the particular diachronic experiences of individual areas to provide material for the broader study of the history of Islamic interpretational methods as a whole. This provides a critical basis for inter-cultural comparison which, in turn, opens the possibility of ultimately establishing a transcultural metahistory of hermeneutics.

The present essay is an attempt to embark upon such comparison. I examine aspects of the hermeneutic methods of three major Islamic thinkers: the historian and Qur'anic commentator, Abuf Jacfar Muhammad ibn Jarir at-Tabari (224/838-310/922); the philosopher, Abui (All Husain ibn Sina (Avicenna, 370/980- 428/1037); and the mystic Abii Bakr Muhammad ibn al-'Arabi (560/1165-638/1240). My concern is less the results of their individual interpretations, however intrinsically or historically

tion)) in Creative Imagination in the Siufism of Ibn 'ArabF (Princeton: Princeton Univer- sity Press, 1969) 3-101, can be illuminating, if handled with care. Much the same may be said, although for different reasons, in regard to John Wansbrough's recent books, Quranic Studies: Sources and Methods of Scriptural Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977) and The Sectarian Milieu: Content and Composition of Islamic Salvation History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978). Useful reviews of Corbin and Wansbrough's approaches are Charles J. Adams and Andrew Rip- pin's contributions to R. C. Martin, ed., Approaches to Islam in Religious Studies (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 1985) 125-63, also 5-1 1. Providing a full bibliography for this topic, however, is, for reasons of space, impractical. Besides the references cited in their relevant places below, the reader may consult standard modern works on these various fields, many of which touch-albeit indirectly-on questions of hermeneutics. Bibliographical references may also be found in respective articles in the old and new editions of the Encyclopedia of Islam [abbr. EI(1) and EI(2)], (1st ed.: Leiden-Leipzig: E. J. Brill-Otto Harrassowitz, 1913-1934; 2nd ed.: Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1960-) and articles listed in Index Islamicus, ed. J. D. Pearson et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958-).

CREATIVE HERMENEUTICS 175

significant they may be, than the nature of the hermeneutic processes or techniques each employs. In order to contextualize the discussion, I have chosen as an initial point of focus the Qur'anic story of Adam's creation. Since I investigate these thinkers' methodologies rather than results, my analysis perforce extends beyond their interpretation of this single story.

I

There are numerous references to God's creation of Adam in the Qur'an. But two quotes serve to provide the story's essential features. First, from <<Surat al-Hijr>>:

Surely We created man of a clay of mud molded,

and the jinn created We before of fire flaming.

And when thy Lord said to the angels, 'See, I am creating a mortal of a clay

of mud molded. When I have shaped him, breathed My spirit in

him, fall you down, bowing before him!' Then the angels bowed themselves

all together, save Iblis; he refused to be among

those bowing. Said He, 'What ails thee, Iblis, that thou art not among those bowing.' Said he, 'I would never bow myself

before a mortal whom Thou has created of a clay

of mud molded.' Said He, Then go thou forth hence;

thou art accursed. Upon thee shall rest the curse, till

the Day of Doom.' (15.26-35)2

And, from ((Surat al-Baqara>>:

And when thy Lord said to the angels, 'I am setting in the earth a viceroy.'

They said, 'What, wilt Thou set therein one who will do corruption there, and shed blood,

while We proclaim Thy praise and call Thee Holy?' He said, 'Assuredly I know

that you know not.'

2 Translation by A. J. Arberry, The Koran Interpreted (New York: The Mac- millan Company, 1955) 1:282-83.

176 P. HEATH

And He taught Adam the names, all of them; then He presented them unto the angels

and said, 'Now tell me the names of these, if you speak truly.'

They said, 'Glory be unto Thee! We know not save what thou hast taught us. Surely Thou are

the All-knowing, the All-wise.' He said, 'Adam, tell them their names.' And when he had told them their names

He said, 'Did I not tell you I know the unseen things of the heavens and earth?

And I know what things you reveal, and what you were hiding.'

And when We said to the angels, 'Bow yourselves to Adam'; so they bowed themselves, save Iblis; he refused,

and waxed proud, and so he became one of the unbelievers. (2.30-34)3

These passages present three themes basic to the Qur'anic conception of God's creation of Adam. God creates him physically molding him from clay and breathing His spirit into him; He endows him with knowledge, instructing him rather than the angels the names of things; and He gives him dominion, appointing him His earthly viceroy (Lalpfa). This last act precipitates a moment of cosmic crisis: the angels dispute God's decree, Iblis (Satan) rejects it outright. In its various renditions of the story, the Qur'an may emphasize one or two of these themes, or present all three; but its understanding of the event remains consistent throughout4.

It is instructive to note the similarities between the Qur'an's por- trayals of Adam's creation with those found in Genesis. In the first Genesis story, God forms him in His image and bestows on him dominion over the earth (Genesis 1:26-27). In the second, He

3 Arberry, Koran Interpreted, 1:33. 4 Other renditions of Adam's creation are: Qur'dn 3.60; 7.12-19; 17.62-66;

20.115-18; 38.72-86; 95.5. Scholars date this version of the story as late Meccan or early Medinese. See Th. Noeldeke, Geschichte des Qorans, 3 vols., 2nd. ed. by F. Schwally et al. (Leipzig, 1909-38) 1 :ix (for the index which cites page numbers where each suira is discussed); Richard Bell, The Qur'dn: Translated with a Critical Re-Arrangement of the Surahs (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1937); and Jalal ad-Din CAbd ar-Rahman as-Suyu-ti, al-'Itqdn ft culum al-Qur'dn, 2 vols. (Cairo: Maktabat Mustafa I-Babi l-Halabi, 1978) 11-53. For other QurPanic treatments of the theme of man's creation, ((from a single soul,)) for example, or ((clay to sperm to clot,)) see Qur'dn 4.2; 22.6; 23.13-15; 30.22; 35.12; 39.7; 40.68; 86.6-8; 96.3. According to the Qur'dn, Iblfs was ajinn. See EI(2) 3:668-9; Fazlur Rahman, Major Themes of the Qur'dn (Minneapolis: Bibliotheca Islamica, 1980) 121-131, 17-19; and Peter J. Awn, Satan's Tragedy and Redemption: Iblfs in Sufi Psychology (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1983) 18-40.


shapes him from clay, blows in him the breath of life, and brings him animals to receive names (2:7, 18-20). The reasons for thematic congruences between Genesis and the Qur'an are doubtlessly of interest to the historian of religion; however, their investigation lies outside the present discussion's purview. More relevant is that despite the two texts' general equivalences, each religious tradition, the Judeao-Christian or Islamic, grants absolute primacy to only one.

Here is an excellent example of the hermeneutic ((Principle of Privilege))5. Each religious tradition assigns a privileged position to one text, regardless of its general thematic equivalence with other versions. The versions may share similar objective meanings, but for their respective faiths they do not have the same contextual significance. The Qur'anic version of Adam's creation may be of historical or intellectual interest for the believingJew or Christian, but it has no religious relevance; the reverse is true for the believing Muslim.

Privileging texts is a social decision. It is society that determines textual hierarchies6. And radical changes in privileging provoke comprehensive hierarchical restructurings. The revelation of the Qur'an, for example, set off a literary as well as religious revolu- tion. For early Muslims, it abrogated and caused the virtual demise of any pre-Islamic Arabian pagan religious texts that may have existed, and it relegated the Torah and the Gospels to positions of marginal importance. Beyond this, the appearance of the Qur'an upset established relationships between religious and literary texts. Poetry suffered a serious loss of prestige. It continued to flourish in the ensuing centuries, but it never again competed directly with religion for general cultural primacy. For pious Muslims, Jewish and Christian religious texts and oral traditions, and pre-Islamic poetry and prose became instead resources, secondary materials to

5 This term may be my own; but the principle itself, essential to the concept of literary canon, is quite obvious. Once one begins to scrutinize them closely, obvious ideas are rarely simple; nevertheless, in spite of the brevity of the description provided here, the general contours of this principle should be clear. See also Wansbrough, Quranic Studies, 100.

6 For a pertinent discussion of the Bible's place in the Western literary tradition, see Northrup Frye, The Secular Scripture. A Study of the Structure of Romance (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976) 20-31.

178 P. HEATH

draw upon for understanding the lexical, grammatical, or historical context of the one text that mattered7.

Another consequence of privileging is that it reorients society's perceptions of what other texts mean. When a position of ultimate authority is awarded a text, other texts are understood within the new frame of reference it creates. One reads one part of the Qurldn, for example, within the hermeneutic context of the rest of the book, and then in relation to secondary materials pertinent to its understanding. But to the same degree, all of an Islamic society's other literature, religious or secular, is also comprehended through the medium of Qur'anic intertextual reference. The Qur'dn (or any other text granted a similar position of social privilege) pervasively affects, and at times may even conclusively determine, how other literary works are understood. It also exerts a powerful influence on how texts are thereafter constructed8.

A third consequence of a society's decision to privilege a certain text (and to use it as a primary frame of reference for understanding other texts) is that the balance between the signified and signifier becomes heavily weighted toward the latter. Verbal expression gains an extraordinary degree of ascendancy. Each word becomes a trigger for interpretive processes, stemming from what T. Todorov has termed the ((Principle of Pertinence.>>

Cf. H. A. R. Gibb, Arabic Literature: An Introduction, 2nd. ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963) 41-43. Although this is a general historical statement, it is one I believe to be generally defensible. To test its accuracy one needs only to attempt to determine which poet or literary corpus throughout the succeeding history of Arabic literature could replace the Qur'dn. It is interesting that once the Qur'dn achieved its place of privilege, the literature that it had displaced regained prestige specifically because of its contemporaneity with the Qur'dn, cf. at-Tabari, Tafsfr at-Tabart:JdmiC al-bayan can ta'wll al-Qur'dn, ed. Mahmmud Shakir and Ahmad Shakir (Cairo: Dar al-maCarif, 1964-) 1:9-10, where the author offers as proof of the Qur'dn's inimability the fact that its eloquence overcame that of the greatest Arab poets and orators, in this way implicitly valorizing the literature they pro- duced. Cf. here M. Arkoun's concepts of "le pensable, l'impensable, et l'impense,>> Arkoun, Lectures du Coran, XIIff. and 79. See also below, note 12.

8 A thorough study of the Qur'an's stylistic and structural influence on Arabic literature, investigating questions of intertextuality and the <anxiety of influence,, it provoked would be a fascinating project. For a useful beginning, see A. M. Zubaidi, ((The Impact of the Qur'an and Hadfth on Medieval Arabic Literature,,, in A. F. L. Beeston et al., eds., Arabic Literature to the End of the Umayyad Period, The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983) 322-43.


In order to account for the triggering of the interpretive process, we must assume at the outset that the production and reception of discourse ... obey a very general rule of pertinence, according to which if a discourse exists there must be a reason for it9.

In accordance with this principle, every word or phrase in the Qur'an acquires enormous power for eliciting hermeneutic responses. If, as E. D. Hirsch suggests, texts may be viewed as having a single meaning but many significances, the emphasis that Muslim societies put on the unique verbal appropriateness of the Qur'an does not forestall interpretation; it opens its floodgates. Each word now has as many osignificances>> as interpreters can identify10.

Given the particular nature of the Qur'dn's narrative style and structure, the principle of pertinence is of special importance for understanding its later exegesis. In Mimesis, Eric Auerbach brilliantly contrasts the Odyssey's particularistic, empirical represen- tational techniques with the starkly austere minimalist texture of Genesis". It would be equally revealing to compare the Odyssey or Genesis to the Qur'dn. The latter's rich rhythms and flowing cadences create a style of tremendous connotative and symbolic power. A revelation of God's warnings and guidance, the Qur'dn admonishes and exhorts, cites past and present signs, describes future reckonings. Cast typically as thematic units rather than

9 T. Todorov, Symbolism and Interpretation (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1982) 28. Todorov intends a broad definition for this principle, employing it to cover any textual index-lexical, stylistic, structural, semantic, or contextual- which causes the reader to feel the need to interpret. I concentrate here only on the lexical and stylistic indices this principles includes, cf. Todorov, Symbolism, 28-38.

10 See E. D. Hirsch, Validity in Interpretation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967) 8: ((Meaning is that which is represented by a text; it is what the author meant by his use of a particular sign sequence; it is what the signs represent. Significance, on the other hand, names a relationship between that meaning and a person, or a conception, or a situation, or indeed anything imaginable.)) See also, pp. 140-44. Hirsch's distinction is an idealistic one, and such scholars as Jacques Derrida or Stanley Fish can chip away at it until it seems to collapse. But the principle upon which it is based is, I believe, defensible in general, if not always in particular, and also extremely useful. I am here applying it more strictly than Hirsch himself might argue for, equating meaning with literal sense and significance for any secondary symbolic sense or contextually drawn implication, similar to Todorov's distinction between direct and indirect meaning, cf. Todorov, Symbolism, 11-13.

' Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature. Trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953) 3-23.

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organized diachronical narrative, descriptions of events occur and reoccur; evoked as examples, warnings, reminders; voiced in a rhythmic, compelling, forceful style which Muslims consider inimitable. With its magnificent verbal textures, the Qur'dn creates an hermeneutical arena where literal meaning may be obvious, but symbolic significances demand interpretation12.

One last point is relevant to the historical study of Qur'anic hermeneutics. In contrast to such religious texts as the Torah or the Gospels, the Qur'an relatively quickly attained a finalized state. It was arranged and recorded in written form within two decades of the Muhammad's death (10/632). This prevented its text from undergoing a process of fabulation where external fictional material or motifs could gain entrance. Exegesis, however, began early. The Prophet's companions quickly embarked upon the process of interpretation. The results of this process were to provide the materials used by such later scholarly commentators as Abui Ja'far Muham- mad ibn Jarir at-TabarCi3.

12 This is why, on the one hand, Muhammad's opponents in Mecca accused him of being a poet or soothsayer rather than a prophet (cf. the Qur'dn's reply to these charges: 36.70 and 69.39-53); and why, on the other hand, the Qur'an's style became venerated as being miraculously unique (cf. Qur'an 17.89), the greatest ((proof&) of Muhammad's prophecy, see at-Tabari, Tafsir, 1:5ff. Compare also Arkoun, Lectures du Coran, 1, 27-44 (esp. 32-35), and 70-71. For further discussion and references, see G. von Grunebaum's article ((ICdjaz>) in EI(2) 3:1018-20, which provides relevant bibliography. There are, of course, exceptions to the Qur'dn's non-narrative impetus, such as the Joseph story, Suira 12. For a contrary view of this point, see Wansbrough, Quranic Studies, throughout but especially 1- 52; and on i'jdz, 79-83.

13 I adhere here to the traditional views of both Islamic and western scholarship in regard to the history of the Qur'dn's collection, see Noeldeke, Geschichte, vols. 2 and 3. Against this view, in different ways, see John Wansbrough, Quranic Studies and The Sectarian Milieu, and John Burton, The Collection of the Qur'dn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), esp. 117-189. The standard history of Qur'anic exegesis is still Ignaz Goldziher, Die Richtungen der islamischen Koranauslegung, De Goeje-Stiftung series No. 6 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970). Useful is cAbd al-Halim an-Najar's Arabic translation of this work, Madhhab at-tafsfr al- isldmi (Cairo: Dar al-kutub al-haditha, 1955). Arkoun's Lectures du Coran, esp. 69- 86, is important. Useful for the early period is Nabia Abbott, Studies in Arabic Literary Papyri II: Qur'anic Commentary and Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967) and Wansbrough, Quranic Studies, 119-246. For other recent brief descriptions, see Mahmoud M. Ayoub, The Qur'dn and its Interpreters, vol. 1 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1984) 16-40; Helmut Gatje, The Qur'dn and its Exegesis: Selected Texts with Classical and Modern Muslim Interpretations (Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976) 30-44; Kenneth Cragg, The Mind of the Quran: Chapters in Reflection (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1973) 54-74. For a discussion of the process of fabulation in regard to the Gospels, see Frank Kermode, The Genesis of Secrecy: On the Interpretation of Narrative (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1979) 75-99.


II

At-Tabari treats the Qur"anic rendition of Adam's creation in both his voluminous commentary (tafs&r) and in the first part of his universal history14. These works serve as useful foci for the study of Islamic hermeneutics because both are major achievements in their genres. Enormously influential, to this day they remain monuments in their fields. Although comparison indicates essential methodological similarities, they belong to different genres- exegesis and history-and therefore naturally reveal methodological divergences.

At-Tabari's approach to Qur3anic exegesis is essentially philological. Since the Qur3an had existed in a definitive edition for several centuries, his task did not extend to solving problems of textual discrepancy. It was concentrated, rather, on establishing the text's meaning. This he sought to do by analyzing it-word for word-from three perspectives: grammatical, semantic, and historical. Not every word required analysis on all these levels, but the methodological tools were available. By at-Tabari's day, Arabic grammar was a well-developed science, so the technical mor- phological and syntactical analysis of each word or phrase did not, in general, engender much controversy. Nevertheless, he devotes page after page to the ponderous task of providing the exact vowels for each word in question, noting unusual syntactic features or characteristics, and comparing it with other occurrences of the word, either in the Qur'dn or in pre-Islamic poetry, which is used as a kind of etymological lexicon'5.

14 At-Tabari, Tafsir (see above, note 7); the history is Tarikh ar-rusul wa-l- mulhk, ed. M. J. de Goeje et at., 15 vols. (Leiden, 1879-1901).

15 Cf. the words of one of at-Tabari's students, Abui Muhammad cAbd Allah ibn Ahmad al-Farghani (d. 362/972-3):

He explains in it [the commentary] its [the Qur'dn's] ordinances, its abrogating and abrogated verses, its difficult and unusual expressions, its meanings, the differences of opinion among interpreters and scholars concerning its ordinances and interpretation, and what he himself considers correct, the desinential inflexion of its letters, arguments against those who disbelieve in it, stories and traditions of the Muslim community, [accounts] of the day of resurrection, and other things of the ordinances and wonders it contains; word for word, verse by verse, from its very beginning until its end.

Quoted in Shams ad-Din Muhammad ibn 'All ibn Ahmad ad-Dd'idI (d. 945/1533-34), Tabaqit al-mufassirfn, 2 vols. (Beirut: Dar al-kutub al-Cilmiyya, 1983) 2:114. Compare Paul Nywia's analytic division of Muqatil's exegetic method into lecture litterale, exege'se et histoire, and exegese et imagination. Nywia, Exegese

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This method of linguistic analysis has three purposes. When the grammar involved is indeed complex or difficult, grammatical analysis serves its purported goal. But there is also a rhetorical dimension involved. One can solve most problems of grammar; therefore, devoting great attention to them grounds the exegetic enterprise in an aura of certainty. A reader comes to feel that the commentator knows his job, that his pronouncements may be trusted. And just as grammatical problems can be identified, ana- lyzed, and solved, so (one should believe) can other, potentially more complex and problematic textual difficulties. Finally, the task has an ideological function. Analyzing a text word for word invests it with increased significance. This is as it should be. Since this is the Holy Book, each word is, a priori, essential, deserving as much attention as the commentator or reader is able, in terms of knowledge and energy, to devote to it.

An example of this last characteristic occurs in at-Tabarl's analysis of the second word of the second Qur'anic passage quoted above: And when thy Lord said .... At-Tabari devotes nearly six pages of commentary to this word, when (idh). Not because the word is particularly difficult or rare; the problem is that Abiu cUbaida (d. 209/824-5) had suggested that here it was semantically superfluous. At-Tabarl argues strenuously against this position, seeking to disprove it by citing lines of early poetry where the word could not be removed without causing a change of meaning'6.

Here is the principle of pertinence at work. Every word in the text has meaning, because it must have meaning. This is not a conclusion of exegesis, but rather its assumption. And the more privileged and prestigious the text, the more important each word. With a text such as the divinely revealed Qur'dn, it would be unthinkable that even a simple adverbial particle not be there as the result of a cosmic decree.

coranique, 35-68. I shall address aspects of Nywia's third category later in this paper. Arkoun discusses this and points out the ahistoricity and closure of this approach, Lectures du Coran, Xff. See also Wansbrough's analytic structure, Quranic Studies, 119-246. Investigating the nature of such traditional exegetical ter- minological distinctions such as that between tafsir and ta'wtl, or tafstr bi-l-ma'tur, tafszr bi-l-"ilm, or tafszr bi-r-raDy would require broadening the scope of our present inquiry beyond the conspectus of this paper. For other examples of the emphasis on grammatical analysis in Qur'anic commentary, see K. Cragg, The Mind of the Qur'dn, 62-69.

16 At-Tabari, TafsFr, 1:439-444.


As mentioned above, one effect of at-Tabari's emphasis on grammatical analysis is that it imbues his enterprise with a feeling of scientific certainty. This is to its advantage; certitude is less easy to attain when he turns to dimensions of semantic and historical analysis. Yet here again at-Tabari strives to dispel any sense of ambiguity or uncertainty by grounding his task in an air of methodicalness, empiricism, and thoroughness. For each word or phrase examined, he enumerates all possible meanings, cites sources supporting one possibility over another, and then indicates the interpretation he favors.

A concrete example or two will clarify the parameters of the process. The second line of the above-cited quote from ((Surat al- Baqara,>> is I am setting in the earth a viceroy"7. In Arabic the first words, I am setting are innfjacilun. Inna means 'I' or 'Indeed I'; jdCilufj, explains at-Tabar1, has several possible meanings here. Some commentators believe that it means 'making' or 'doing' (fdcilun); here at-Tabarl cites a chain of authorities who trace this interpretation to al-Hasan al-Basri (d. 110/728). Others believe that it means 'creating' (hdliq un). But the correct interpretation, according to at-Tabarl, is a third possible meaning: 'appointing a viceroy or vice-regent (mustahlifun ... halfatan)lB8.

Now that at-Tabarl has defined the meaning of jdcilun by tying it to halafa, he must clarify the latter word's meaning. This he sets about to do. He begins by offering his own (implicit) interpretation. Using the most common meaning of halafa's verbal root halaf (to follow, come after, take the place of) and its appearance in Qur'dn 10.14 as reference points, he defines the word as 'replacer' or 'successor'. Hence, says at-Tabari, the greatest ruler is termed halafa because he takes the place of the previous ruler. He then uses this interpretation to refute a commentator who had defined halafa as 'inhabitant' (sdkin), 'builder' (camir). But now at-Tabari must address the question of whom, in fact, Adam succeeded, since their were no humans living on the earth before him. Interpreters (ahl at- ta'wi7) have disagreed over this. Some claim that the jinn inhabited the earth before man, and it is they who Adam and his kind are replacing. Several versions of why God created humans as suc- cessors to the jinn are then related. Others believe Adam is replac-

I See above, p. 165. 18 At-Tabari, Tafszr, 1:447-48, including editors' note 3, p. 447.

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ing the angels, or both angels and jinn, created on the third and fourth days of creation, respectively. Another interpretation is that the word 'replacer' or 'successor' refers to Adam's children, who replace and succeed him and each other, generation after generation. Now that at-Tabari has provided testimony for the replacer/successor dimension of the word's meaning, he must also draw in the connotation, implicitly established in his initial definition, of ruler, viceroy, vice-regent, that is, the idea that Adam stands in God's place on earth as a just ruler. This he proceeds to do with another by introducing, discussing, and analyzing another series of exegetic traditions"9.

The particulars of at-Tabarl's discussion are of less interest to us than his method. He examines different possibilities, cites their sources, and compares the interpretations or extrapolations they provide. This last step leads him from the purely lexical to the historical plane of analysis. By this term ((historical,)) I intend here citations of different versions of events-such as the question of who inhabited the earth before Adam and in what circumstances. On this level at-Tabari introduces different narratives, citing his sources, when possible. Introducing such narratives may solve hermeneutical problems, or may create new ones. These, in turn, require providing, comparing, and interpreting further source material. At each step's completion, the commentator endorses one version, explicitly or implicitly.

Several aspects of this hermeneutic method, as described briefly above, deserve attention. One is the question of implicit selection20. At-Tabari obviously draws on a deep reservoir of prior exegesis. Enormous as his own commentary is (30 parts, usually printed in 15 volumes in the complete Biilaq-based versions), it is doubtful that he records all interpretations current in his time. What then are the criteria on which he bases his selection of materials? This subject requires careful and thorough study, but one can offer ten- tative preliminary suggestions. Scholarly soundness is one. Mate- rial of popular nature-entertaining but obviously far-fetched was probably excluded, as was material coming from disreputable

19 Ibid., 1:449-53. 20 Cf. K. Cragg, The Mind of the Qur'dn, 71-74, where he discusses a modern

commentator, Bint ash-Shati, having to undergo a similar process of selection in regard to pre-modern commentaries.


narrators2". Theological acceptability is another obvious criterion. Interpretations too deeply offensive to at-Tabari's own theological stance would be excluded. Again, the details of at-Tabari's particular case are less relevant than the fact that commentators create borders between material they are willing or unwilling to include in their works.

Another significant aspect of at-Tabari's method is his habit of citing sources. This early became standard practice in the Islamic religious science, coming about because of real historical necessity. Many prophetic traditions were being forged22. On the other hand, citation of sources also serves a rhetorical function; it imbues the project with an air of scientific objectivity and veracity, similar to that which the grammatical level of analysis described above serves.

More interesting is a third aspect of at-Tabarl's method: its hermeneutic pluralism. Although the commentator doubtlessly excludes certain materials, those included are set forth as potentially equally plausible. This is significant. At-Tabari obviously has pre-judgements: distinct ideas regarding which interpretations he will espouse; he did, after all, found a school offiqh. And it is rare that he does not endorse one interpretation, if only implicitly, in the course of his analyses of materials. On the other hand, he rarely explicitly discounts alternatives. This would be difficult to do; the traditions and accounts he cites, after all, stem from the prophets' companions and later respected religious authorities, such as Hasan al-Basr1. They are therefore privileged in much the same way, if on a lower level, as the Qurldn. Hence, while at-Tabari certainly intends to emphasize his preferred personal interpretations, often pursuing them in remarkably persistent and subtle fashions, he cannot explicitly urge his readers to reject other possibilities. In- terestingly, he does not usually even argue for his choices. His main support for the selections he makes is the air of good sense, sound judgement, and scholarly authority that pervade his enterprise.

The pluralistic view of the text that results is one of this hermeneutic's most attractive dimensions. Here is interpretation working against itself even as it tries to fulfill itself. Instead of emerging from at-Tabari's commentary with an understanding of

21 Such as the popular preachers, or qussas, see EI(2) 4:733-35 for description and relevant bibliography.

22 See <Hadfth,, EI(2) 3:23-28.

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the Qur'dn's one true literal meaning-to which one should thereafter cling-readers undergo instead a thorough exegetical education in its possible significances. As with every education, this one is circumscribed; materials have been previously selected and censored. And like every good teacher, at-Tabari makes known his opinions about the materials that remain. But he does not censure opposing views.

What remains is an exercise in humanism. A priori, the text has only one meaning, it is the word of God. But mainstream religious scholars and traditionalists (for at-Tabarl typifies the mainstream approach here) refuse to determine it. Instead coexisting interpretations are left in suspension. The ultimate choice is left to the individual reader23.

This same tension between hermeneutical determinateness and indeterminateness also typifies at-Tabar-l's historiographical method24. Once again different versions of events are provided,

23 For a survey and discussion of the use of the term humanism in the pre-modern Islamic context, see J. L. Kraemer, ,Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam: A Preliminary Survey,)) Journal of the American Oriental Society 104, 1 (1984) 135-164. It is dangerous, I think, to equate humanism with hellenism, a position Kraemer seems desirous of avoiding but then apparently falls back into with such statements as: <(The cosmopolitan atmosphere breathed by learned circles in the Renaissance of Islam was inspired by the impact of the ancient classical legacy-by the ecumenical power of antiquity.>((148). Here he goes against the more perceptive insight of Franz Rosenthal, which he himself earlier cites and with which he claims to agree: ((Rosenthal avows that the 'role of knowledge (cilm) as the driving force in religion and, thereby, in all human life' was essential to the development of the Graeco-Arabic translation activity.>>(144). Rosenthal's point here, that the humanism of the translation and philosophy movements may be viewed as resulting from the cilm-driven humanism of the practitioners of the religious sciences and adab, is, I believe, useful, at least as an initial theoretical perspective for further inquiry; for it seems arguable that the intellectual forces driving the humanistic engine of pre-modern Islamic civilization were culujm ad-din (eventually including mysticism), adab, and falsafa, in that order. The philo-hellenism of nine- teenth and twentieth century scholars, especially those emerging from the German orientalist tradition, must be understood within the context of an intellectual environment permeated with a passionately idealistic and romantic view of the ancient Greeks. Cf., inter alia, Schiller, H6lderlin, Hegel, Nietzsche, Heidegger.

24 Pre-modern Muslim historiography is, considering its historical importance and intrinsic interest, a much understudied field. H. A. R. Gibb's article < Ta'rzkh(( in EI(1), Supplement, 233-45, reprinted in H. A. R. Gibb, Studies on the Civilization of Islam, (Boston: Beacon Press, 1962), 108-137; Franz Rosenthal, A History of Muslim Historiography (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968) and B. Lewis and P. Holt, eds., Historians of the Middle East (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962) are still basic surveys. See also Nabia Abbott, Studies in Arabic Literary Papyri I: Historical Texts (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957). More recent works are J.


each supported by chains of transmitters. Once again, although preferred readings are indicated, alternative possibilities are not explicitly excluded. But differences in general approach arise as well. In his commentary at-Tabari adopts a static philological approach. In his history the guiding impulse is temporal narrative. In the commentary at-Tabari follows the thread of the Qur)dn's text virtually, as we have seen, word for word, beginning with the Qur)dn's first word, ending with its last. The history, however, begins with creation and continues to his own day. In the commentary each word of the Qur)dn is pertinent; here at-Tabari cites only those relevant to his historical narrative.

The narrative impulse dominant in at-Tabari's historiographical writings must of course be viewed in perspective. Few modern readers would term his rendition of historical events dynamic or fast-paced. Genesis takes less than a page to recount the story of creation of the world until man. At-Tabari takes almost fifty pages, offering different accounts citing chains of transmitters, endorsing certain views without conclusively rejecting alternatives25. Still, his approach here is different. Grammatical or semantic levels of discourse are rarely referred to; history has priority. The narrative is structured to answer the question <what happened,>> rather than <(what does it mean.o

Readers of the history still receive a large dose of Qur'anic commentary; for context and narrative thread are set by the Qur)dn's text. When at-Tabari comes to the story of Adam's creation, for example, he approaches the story from the Qur'anic perspective. He cites lines from S"Surat al-Baqara>> and other relevant passages. But this being a historical text, he must contextualize these passages, make them diachronically coherent, fill in the gaps. This requires interpretation. To do this convincingly, at-Tabari relies on his scientific method-producing alternative versions, citing sources. But he also moves in a different direction: he particularizes the text. Here is an example, cited on the authority of <<certain companions of the Prophet.>>

Wansbrough, &ectarian Milieu, esp. 1-49; CAbd al-IAziz Dfiri, The Rise of Historical Writing among the Arabs, ed. & trans. L. I. Conrad (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983); and Claude Cahen, oL'Historiographie arabe: des origines au Vile s. H.,>, Arabica 33,2 (1986) 133-198. Cahen discusses at-Tabari pp. 146-49.

25 At-Tabari, Ta'rfkh, First Series, 1:29-78.

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When the time came that God, may He be gloried and exalted, wished to blow the spirit into Adam, He said to the angel, ((When I have blown my spirit in him, bow down before him!>> Then He blew in him the spirit. When the spirit entered Adam's head, he sneezed. The angels said ((Say: Praise be to God!,> So Adam said, ((Praise be to God!> Then God, may He be gloried and exalted, said ((Your Lord has forgiven you.). When the spirit entered Adam's two eyes, he looked at the fruits of Paradise. When it entered his (bodily) cavity, he became hungry. He jumped up before the spirit reached his two feet, hastening to the fruits of Paradise... This is when He said: Man was created of haste (21.37)26.

One may speculate that this tradition arose in order to clarify the Qur'anic verse Man was created of haste. But by the time at-Tabari records it (without endorsing it, by the way), it is clear that the narrative has assumed a life of its own. This must occur for it to attain some degree of narrative coherence. One cannot write historical narrative consisting of fragmented references-even if these do stem from a divine source! In order to guide the reader from temporal point A to Z, the historian must provide a connecting line. At-Tabari drew upon the immense exegetic and historiographical traditions which had accrued by his time in order to obtain the narrative materials necessary for this task.

Narrative impulse and the drive towards particularistic detail combine to make at-Tabari's rendition of the story of Adam's creation diachronically coherent; events are set together in sequence, details necessary (or considered necessary) to the narrative are inserted. It is of interest to note that these two tendencies gain even more impetus in popular literature. Popular versions of prophets' tales are even more detailed and elaborate. Here is the same sequence of events as related in al-Kisadi' s The Tales of the Prophets.

God bade the spirit to be immersed in all the lights, then He commanded it to enter Adam's body with praise and without haste. The spirit, seeing a very narrow entrance and narrow apertures, said, ((O Lord, how can I enter?))

It was told, ((Enter reluctantly and exit reluctantly.)) So the spirit entered from the cranium into the eyes. Adam then opened his eyes and looked at his clay body. He could not speak, but he saw inscribed on the pavilion of the Throne:

THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD MUHAMMAD IS THE APOSTLE OF GOD IN TRUTH.

Then the spirit reached his ears, and he could hear the angels adoring God round about him. Then the spirit began to turn in his head and brain, while the angels gazed upon him, waiting to be commanded to prostrate themselves. Iblis, however, kept his opposition secret in his heart.

26 At-Tabari, Ta'rfkh, First Series, 1:91.


God had informed the angels before creating Adam, as He hath said: And remember when thy Lord said unto the angels, Verily I am about to create man out of dried clay, of black mud, wrought into shape; when, therefore, I shall have completely formed him, and shall have breathed of my spirit into him; do yefall down and worship him (15.28-29).

Then the spirit reached Adam's nose and he sneezed. The sneeze opened the blocked passages, and Adam said, ((Praise be to God Who Is Now and Ever Shall Be.)) This was the first thing spoken by Adam.

Then the Majestic One called to him, saying, ((Thy Lord has compassion upon thee, 0 Adam. From this I created thee, and my mercy is everlasting for thee and thine offspring so long as they say as thou has said.))

Ibn Abbas said: Nothing irritates Iblis more than the words, Bless you, when someone sneezes.

Then the spirit moved through Adam's body until it reached his legs. And Adam became flesh, blood, bones, veins, nerves, and bowels, except his feet, which remained clay. He tried to stand but was unable, which is the meaning of His Words: Man is created of precipitation [haste] (21.37).

When the spirit reached the legs and feet, Adam stood up erect. It is said that the spirit took five hundred years to permeate throughout Adam's body and that it was on Friday at sunset that is was completed27.

Notice how much more detailed and dramatized this popular version is. Characters are developing, each with their own emo- tions, reactions, and viewpoint. Details are superabundant. Par- ticularized diachronic movement drives narrative action. From one perspective, the difference between this narrative and at-Tabari's historiographical account is simply a matter of degree; the narrative techniques employed are largely the same. But the width of the gap separating the two approaches should not be overlooked. At-Tabari is writing serious history; al-Kisd'i popular fiction. At-Tabarl maintains sophisticated control over his materials, holding firmly in check the narrative forces he employs.

In summation, at-Tabarl's two works present a mixture of currents. Each, in its own way, interprets the Qur'dn. But they do so circumspectly. Materials not admitted fall completely outside the range of discussion; they become irrelevant. Interpretations that are admitted, however, coexist; equipoised between determinateness and indeterminateness; contextualized and made respec- table by the author's respective critical methodologies, philology

27 Muhammad ibn CAbd Allah al-Kisdl', The Tales of the Prophets of al-Kisazi, trans. W. M. Thackston, Jr., Library of Classical Arabic Literature 2 (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1978) 20-21.

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and historiography. At-Tabari interpretes the Qur'an by pre- senting and enumerating its acceptable significances. Within this delimitation, and even after at-Tabarl makes his own preferences known, readers remain free to make their own choices.

A century and a half after at-Tabarl's death, another great religious scholar, Abii Hamid al-Gazali (d. 505/1111), remarked that the work of theologians is useful in that it sets and defends the limits of the faith. He referred to dialectical theologians (al- mutakallimun), but his remark is also pertinent for our understanding of at-Tabari' s practices28. He maintains the ascribed hierarchy between his primary text and those used as secondary resources. The superior truthfulness of the Qur'dn is never questioned. This makes his hermeneutic activity a magic circle. Those who accept its conditions-belief in the privileged position of the Qur)dn-enter and reap the fruits of centuries of interpretive labor. Those who do not, fall outside. They then have three choices. They can ignore the text, allegorize it, or transcend it. It is to the investigation of these latter two possibilities to which we now turn.

III

In his Micraj-nama (Book of the Prophet's Ascension) Ibn Sina states the following:

Faith consists of two parts: real and metaphorical, the core and the husk. Prophets have real faith, the core, for they are the bearers of the core and the truth. Ordinary people bear the husk, the form. Their faith is sensible, not intelligible29.

28 Abui Hamid Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Gazdli, al-Munqid min ad-daldi (Cairo: Maktabat al-Jundi [al-Gindi], n.d.) 14-16; English trans. R. J. McCar- thy, Freedom and Fulfillment, Library of Classical Arabic Literature 4 (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1980) 68-69. Cf. Arkoun, Lectures du Coran, X-XII, 46 n. 7, 48-50, and 74.

29 Ibn Sind, Micrdj-nama, facsimile edition by Mahdi Bayani (Tehran: Anjuman-i duistdaran-i kitab, 1952) 14r. This work has long been attributed to Ibn Sina (cf Katib Chelebi [laji Khallfa], Kasf az-znunzn can asma' al-kutub wa-l- funuin, eds. Sh. Yaltkaya and R. Bilge, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (Istanbul: Devlet Kitaplari, 1971) 1:892. But the attribution has been disputed: see G. C. Anawati, Essai de bibliographie Avicennienne (Cairo: Al-Maaref, 1950) 321-22; and Yahya Mahdavi, Bibliographie d'Ibn Sina (Tehran: Danishgah-i Tahran, 1954) 297-98. See also H. Corbin, Avicenna and the Visionary Recital, 83, 165-78. The text's stylistic clumsiness speaks against its being composed by the philosopher; but this might be explained by his wrestling with early modern Persian's lexical inadequacies in regard to the writing of philosophical texts, especially if he wrote it before his Ddnish-ndma-z


This statement typifies the hermeneutic approach of the great medieval Muslim philosophers. It contends that religion's truth is expressed hierarchically, since men themselves have various levels of intellectual capability. Ibn Rusd espouses the same idea in his Fasl al-maqdl (Decisive Treatise):

Since we, the Muslim community, hold that this divine religion of ours is true, and that it is the religion which incites and summons us to the happiness that consists of the knowledge of God, Mighty and Majestic, and of His creation, that (end) is appointed for every Muslim by the method of assent which his temperament and nature require. For the natures of men are on different levels with respect to (their paths to) assent. One of them comes to assent through demonstration; another comes to assent through dialectical arguments just as firmly as the demonstrative man through demonstration, since his nature does not contain any greater capacity; while another comes to assent through rhetorical arguments, again just as firmly as the demonstrative man through demonstrative arguments.

Thus since this divine religion of ours has summoned people by these three methods, assent to it has extended to everyone, except him who stubbornly denies it.. 30.

In his treatise, Ibn Rusd attempts to prove the fundamental con- cord of religion and philosophy. His argument is as follows. The results of demonstrative proofs are true, the tenets of Islam are true, therefore there can be no contradiction between philosophy and religion. ((For Truth does not oppose truth>>31. Philosophers comprehend demonstrative proofs and do not need other modes of assent. But prophets bring religion to all men and must therefore make it understandable to all classes of minds. Ibn Sina espouses the same idea.

It is the condition of prophets that every intelligible that they perceive, they arrange it as a sensible and put into speech, so that the

cAldld. The psychological doctrines invoked, the phraseology of many of descriptions (compare the astrological details of Muhammad's ascent through the spheres with those found in IHayy ibn Yaq;zan, for instance), as well as external textual evidence all lead me to believe that the work is Ibn Sina's. I am in the process of preparing an English translation of the text. There I will provide more completely the evidence upon which my opinion is based.

30 Abu 1-Walid ibn Rusd (Averroes), Kitabjfasl al-maqal wa taqrfr ma- bain as-s'arica wa-l-hikma min al-ittisdl (The Decisive Treatise, Determining What the Connection is Between Religion and Philosophy), ed. Muhammad cImara (Cairo: Dar al- Macarif, 1972) 30-31. English translation quoted from George E. Hourani, Aver- roes. On the Harmony of Religion and Philosophy, E. J. W. Gibb Memorial Series (Lon- don: Luzac & Co., 1961) 49.

3' Ibid., 31-32; trans. 50.

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community can follow it. They comprehend it as an intelligible, but make it sensible and concrete for the community. They thus increase (its usefulness) as threats and promises and promote correct beliefs, so that its provisions can be perfect, and so that the basis and code of religious law and the foundation of religious devotion not be dissolved and disordered.

The intention of the prophet is that (the message) not remain con- cealed. When it reaches an intellectual, he perceives it with his intellect. He knows that the words are all symbols, permeated with intelligibles. When it reaches an ignorant person, however, he looks at the external speech. His heart is content with non-intelligible concrete forms and sensibles. He is enveloped by his imagination and does not pass beyond the doorway of estimation. He asks, un- knowing, and listens, uncomprehending. Praise be to God, for indeed most of them do not know! (31.25)32

Revelation thus has two basic levels, intelligible truth and sensible symbol or metaphor. Due to the weakness of their intellects, ordinary people are unable to apprehend intellectual truths; they only understand the metaphoric or symbolic dimension of revelation. But philosophers, being able to perceive intelligibles, can apprehend revelation's true essence. One may conclude, therefore, that since philosophers truly understand prophetic revelation, it is they who are most qualified to interpret scripture for the rest of the community.

This hermeneutic approach was shared by all of the greatest Islamic philosophers: al-Farabi, Ibn Sina, Ibn Tufayl, and,Ibn Rusd33. Its most striking characteristic is its subversive quality. It enables its practitioners not only to interpret, but even (if they so wish) to deny scripture's literal meaning. Since only philosophers

32 Ibn Sind, Mi'rdj-nafma, 17v-18r. 33 See, for example, Abui Nasr Muhammad ibn Muhammad al-Firabi, as-

Siyasa al-madaniyya (The Political Regime), ed. F. M. Najar (Beirut: Imprimerie Catholique, 1964) 85-87; Abiu Bakr Muhammad ibn Tufayl, .Hayy ibn Yaq.zan, ed. Ahmad Amin (Cairo: Dar al-MaCdrif, n.d.) 126-30; also Michael E. Marmura, <The Islamic Philosophers' Conception of Islam,> Islam's Understanding of Itself, eds. R. G. Hovanisian and S. Vyronis, Jr., Eighth Giorgio Levi Della Vida Bien- nial Conference (Malibu: Undena Publications, 1981) 88-102, esp. 97ff. Even such an avowed skeptic of ((esoteric)) readings of Islamic philosophers as Oliver Leaman accepts this point, cf. An Introduction to Medieval Islamic Philosophy (Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985) 182-201, esp. 186-87. Contra Leaman, see Charles E. Butterworth, (On Scholarship and Scholarly Conventions,-Journal of the American Oriental Society 106/4 (1986) 725-32.


perceive intelligibles, only they can determine what parts of revelation are true and what parts symbolic. In this way essential points of Qur'anic doctrine, bodily resurrection, for instance, or the temporal creation of the world, could be decreed only metaphorical in intent and allegorized away34.

Here the Qur'dn has lost its position of textual privilege. <Truth does not oppose Truth)); but all philosophical demonstrations are true, while only one semantic dimension of the Qur'dn is- according to this hermeneutic approach. Philosophy and religion may both be true; but philosophy is consistently so, while religion only intermittently so. And only philosophers know when this truth is present. A telling example of this viewpoint occurs in AbM Nasr al-FarTbh's (d. 339/950), as-Siydsa al-madaniyya (The Political Regime). Al-Farabi begins this treatise by reviewing the classes of existents. The first of these is the Neoplatonic (<First Cause.)) After he describes the 'First' al-Farabi remarks that He is: ((He who should be considered to be God>> (emphasis mine). Notice here how the word <(God>> has become a gloss, a metaphorical expression for the

Neoplatonic ((One))35. Reversals of textual priorities are always interesting historical

phenomena. But they are by no means unusual. Homer was read allegorically by the Stoics, the Old Testament by Christian theologians such as St. Paul or St. Augustine. Both the Old and New Testaments have suffered allegorization by positivist scientific thinkers in the West since the 17th century. One point of difference between these instances and that of medieval Islamic philosophers

34 Al-Gaza.li criticizes the philosophers for doing this in Tahdfut al-faldsifa (Incoherence of the Philosophers), ed. S. Dunya (Cairo: Dar al-Ma'arif, 1961) 283-84. Translation, S. A. Kamali, Tahafut al-Falasifah (Lahore: Pakistan Philosophical Congress, 1958) 235-6. For Ibn Rushd's reply, see his Tahafut at- tahdfut (Incoherence of the Incoherence), ed. S. Dunya, 2 vols. (Cairo: Dar al- Ma'arif, 1969) 2:864-72. Translation, S. Van Den Bergh, Averroes's Tahafut Al- Tahafut, 2 vols., Gibb Memorial, New Series 19 (London: Luzac and Company, 1954) 359-62. Al-Gazall, of course, does not reject the principle of ta'wll; just its use in regard to religious doctrines which are <<so plain that there is no room left for interpretation., But he does understand the implications of what the philosophers are up to: <What remains is that one might consider such texts [in this case the Qur'dn] to be fraudulent-i.e. suggesting something untrue with a view to people's well-being. But that is beneath the dignity and the sanctity which characterize prophecy.,) Kemali trans., 236. (A dialectical argument, one might note.)

35 Al-Fr-abi, as-Siydsa al-madaniyya, 31.

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is that the latter's hermeneutic approach remained a minority opinion. The great majority of Muslims, even among the intellectual elite, contested and, in the end, rejected this reversal of privileging.

Their being a minority made philosophers such as Ibn Sina circumspect in interpreting religious texts. In the beginning of his Mi'rdj-nama, he notes that he had long wanted to explain the story of Muhammad's heavenly ascent, but had <<been wary because of the danger.>> It is perhaps surprising that he recorded his interpretations to the extent he did36.

It is not the contest between faith and reason, religion and philosophy, that I wish to examine here. But it is necessary to understand these philosophers' theoretical position on this question, and to be aware that they essentially were in agreement concerning it. What is of interest here is the extent to which this theoretical position does or does not hold up during the actual practice of textual interpretation.

Let us pursue this point by examining a specific example. In the first Qur'anic version of God's creation of Adam, God blows His breath or spirit (rtih) into Adam. The word rtih appears in the Qur)dn in three other contexts: (1) associated with God's creative command, Say: the Spirit is from the command of my Lord! (17.85); (2) mentioned as appearing with the angels on the Day of Judgment, A day the Spirit and the angels stand up in a row (78.38); and (3) in connection with prophecy-specifically with Jesus, We gave Jesus the son of Mary clear. proofs and supported him with the Holy Spirit (2.87)-but also in general, He casts the Spirit by His command on whomsoever of His servants He wishes (40.15). It is in this last context that Ibn Sina adopts the concept of Spirit, or more specifically the Holy Spirit, rdh al-qudus. According to him, whoever attains the highest level of intellectual perfection becomes a sanctified soul (nafs muqaddas), a prophet37.

36 Ibn Sina, Mirdj-nd`ma, 1v. On the other hand, one senses in him, as well as in many other philosophers, and followers of other religious or intellectual trends-mystics, Isma'lli theorists, advocates of hermeticism, magic, and alchemy-a fondness for what might be termed the <rhetoric of mystery.)) The constant evocation of estoteric (batini) dimensions of texts is, on one level, merely a rhetorical device; and mysteries are always more alluring if their investigation implies peril.

3J Ibn Sina, Avicenna 's De Anima (Arabic Text): Being the Psychological Part of Kitab al-Shifad, ed. F. Rahman (London: Oxford University Press, 1959) 248-50; Ibn Sina, as'-Sifd: al-Ildhiyydt, ed. I. Madkour et al., 2 vols. (Cairo: Organisme General des Imprimeries Gouvernementales, 1960) 2:442; Ibn Sind, Kitib an-Najdt (Beirut: Dar al-afaq al-jadida, 1985) 205-6; Ahwdl an-nafs, ed. A. F. al-Ahwani (Cairo: CIsa I-Babi 1-Halabi, 1952) 139-40, 168-71.


Al-Farabi refers to the Qur)anic term ((Holy Spirit>> in the above- mentioned as-Siyasa al-madaniyya, associating it with the Neoplatonic ((Active Intellect.>> But he expresses this equivalence in his customarily circumspect and precise fashion: the Active Intellect is ((that which should be considered as the Holy Spirit>> (emphasis mine)38. He states this in the course of his description of the Active Intellect; equating it with the religious term ((Holy Spirit>> is thus part of this description, as if to imply that if forced to employ religious terminology, this is the appropriate term for the philosopher to adopt.

The situation is different with Ibn Sina. Although he uses the term qudus (sanctity) or muqaddas (sanctified) consistently throughout his writings to describe the prophetic soul, he generally does not gloss the term. He explains it, but does not indicate why he uses a term evocative of rzih al-qudus (Holy Spirit), with its religious con- notations, instead of a more standard philosophical term, such as Active Intellect39. There is, however, one work where he does discuss the concept ((Holy Spirit>> in some detail. It is the above- mentioned Mi'rdj-nama, written in the last decade or so of his life. Since this work is devoted to religious exegesis, it is useful to examine it here.

The Mi'rdj-nama, as stated above, is an explanation of the story of the Prophet Muhammad's' ascension to heaven. The work falls into two parts. In the first, Ibn Sina presents an introductory description of this theory of the human soul; in the second, he uses this theory as a basis for allegorizing the story of Muhammad's ascension.

Ibn Sina's version of the story begins with the angel Gabriel descending on an half-asleep Muhammad in Mecca: ((Suddenly Gabriel descended in his own form with such beauty, splendor, and majesty that the house was alit.>> This means (says Ibn Sina) that the faculty of the Holy Spirit (quwwat-i riih-i qudsi) in the form of the Divine Command (amr) united with me.>> Notice that what descends is not the Holy Spirit itself, but its faculty40.

38 al-FarTbi, as-Siyasa al-madaniyya, 32. 39 See above, note 37; also A. M. Goichon, Lexique de la langue philosophique d'Ibn

Sina (Avicenne) (Paris: Desclee de Brouwer, 1938) 144-45. 40 Ibn Simn, MiCrdj-nama, 24r. As Corbin says, <<It is still too early to write the

extensive book that a philosophy of the Angel Holy Spirit... would demand.>> (Cor- bin, Avicenna and the Visionary Recital, 78). Nor does he help matters by vaguely

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Gabriel tells Muhammad to stop slumbering, i.e. to stop being satisfied with the world of counterfeit representations, and to arise with him. Muhammad then sees Buraq, who, according to Ibn Sind, represents the Active Intellect (caql-ifaccdl9, the most common (ghlalib-tar) of the Holy Faculties. (<Previously his help had come through intelligibles in the world of generation and corruption. He is one of the celestial intelligences. He is a High King, the bestower of help to souls, at any time he is with whomever is suitable))41.

Gabriel helps Muhammad tame the mount, Buraq, then the three set off to Jerusalem. There Muhammad is offered three refreshments: wine, water, and honey, and is instructed to choose the honey (which represents the rational soul). He then goes into the mosque to pray (the mosque represents the rational and spiritual world) where he encounter angels and other prophets and talks with them. He climbs a ladder of gold to heaven where a door opens to admit Gabriel and him. There he sees Ishmael, on the sphere of the moon. He then ascends to the other spheres. Ishmael is the only prophet mentioned in Ibn Sind's version of the heavenly journey. As he does in IHayy ibn Yaq.dn, Ibn Sina portrays the spheres' natures in astrological terms42. At the sphere of Mercury, Muhammad encounters an angel half-fire, half-snow; Venus is a beautiful and good angel, very luminous; the Sun is a statesman- like angel seated on a throne of light; Mars has a dark and ominous aspect, he rules over a region of fire and torture (hell); Jupiter is a wise angel on a chair of light who spends his time praising and sanctifying the Lord; Saturn is reddish and inauspicious, the souls who reach him are rare, but those who do are not ill-favored but rather of a rare excellence. Thereafter, Muhammad and Gabriel

discussing the concept as found in the works of half a dozen other authors (77ff.). He is, however, on the right track. In the Micrdj-nana, Ibn Sind himself does not always achieve (or intend?) analytic precision. His general intent is that Buraq represents the Active Intelligence; Gabriel, that aspect (emanation) of the Holy Spirit that descends upon prophets in order to reveal religious legislation (s'ar); and the Holy Spirit, associated in this treatise with the Archangel Michael and the Divine Command (amr), the heavenly source of this legislation. The Holy Spirit is <<the intermediary (wasita) between the Necessary Existent and the First Intelligence,, (Micrdj-nama, 13v.). For the divine Command (amr), see EI(2) 1:449- 50; also J. M. S. Baljon, <<The 'Amr of God' in the Qur'dn>, Acta Orientalia 23 (1958) 7-18.

41 Ibid., 26r-26v. 42 Ibn Sina, Risilat .Hayy ibn Yaqzdn, ed. by A. F. Mehren in Traites mysti-

ques... d'Avicenne, 4 fasc. (Leiden, 1889-99) 1:10-13; English trans. H. Corbin, Avicenna and the Visionary Recital, 143-45.


come to the region of the zodiac. There they meet the ((spiritual angels)) (firishtigan-i rhgdni), who live in a world of luminosity and brightness residing in fixed oratories worshipping and praising God. They then ascend to the great sphere (falak-i a'zam) which is the domain of the sidrat al-muntahd, the Lotus Tree of the Far- Distance, where they encounter human souls that have attained the utmost purity, knowledge, and grace (this is the ninth heaven). These angelic beings have completely transcended the physical world; they never look down, only aloft43.

Muhammad then reaches a boundless sea. From the sea a brook emerges. At the head of the brook is an angel pouring water from the sea to the brook. The sea, explains Ibn Sind, is the First Intelligence, while the stream is the First Soul. Beneath the sea Muhammad sees an immense valley, without beginning or end. This valley represents Absolute Existence, which can only be perceived by a perfect intellect. In the valley, Muhammad sees an angel (<of complete augustness, majesty, and beauty.)> He approaches the angel and asks him his name. The angel replies: (I am Michael, the greatest of the angels. Whatever is difficult, ask of me! Whatever you desire, seek of me; for I shall reveal to you all that you desire (to know)>>44. Muhammad gazes at the angel and finds the First Command (amr-i awwal). This angel represents the Holy Spirit (riih al-qudus). After he has communed with the Holy Spirit, that is, with the pure Command (amr-i pdk), the unadulterated Word (kalima-i mahid), and observed existents in their individuality, Muhammad requests to perceive God in his unity, pure of body, substance, accidents or any other physically or mentally imaginable attributes. Then, after communing with the One, Muhammad returns to the house in which he was sleeping45.

It is clear that Ibn Sina's main intent in treating this story is to allegorize it into philosophical terms. Philosophers will thus be helped to perceive the story's true (<core)), while the masses will be left with its literal ((husk>) (which is all they are presumably understand anyway). And Ibn Sina does indeed fulfill his task, as far as it goes. He faithfully and industriously finds philosophical analogues for each event or description in the story.

43 Ibn SIna, Mi'rdj-nama, 31r-38v. 44 Ibid., 40v. 45 Ibid., 40v-46v. Compare Corbin, Avicenna and the Visi'onary Recital, 171-77.

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But what is pertinent is what transpires in the process. In the course of allegorizing the story, Ibn Sina becomes entangled in its literal husk-perhaps more than he himself would admit. The mi'raj story has never been a set narrative. It is based on a few references in the Qur'an and a relatively small body of prophetic traditions (Iadith)46. Commentators took this material and wove larger narrative units, engaging in much the same operation that we saw at-Tabari undertake in his history. The resulting versions very according to each commentator's perspectives. Ibn Sina, therefore, is not allegorizing a text standard in all its details. The story's outlines are clear, but its details fluid47.

This is important to remember when we examine Ibn Sina's version of the story. For it is indeed that, his version. He follows general outlines set by tradition, but he does not refrain from invention. This is clear when he describes the angels residing in each of the heavenly spheres. His text here has an astrological dimension absent from any other version of the story I have ever seen. The same is true for his description of Muhammad's meeting with the archangel Michael, the reference to a brook from which an angel pours water, the boundless sea, and the valley beneath it. These details only exist in Ibn Sina's version of the story.

One may argue that Ibn Sina creates details to accommodate the cosmological designs of his philosophical beliefs. This is undeniably the case. Yet in the process he exceeds the limits of his self-assigned task. He crosses the border between allegorizing a given text and creating an allegory, between perceiving abstract concepts in material images and creating material images in which to garb abstract ideas. In sum, Ibn Sina is creating new religious cosmology. What, one wonders, in the end becomes more real for him: the abstract epistemological principle that lies behind the idea of the Holy

46 See Qur'dn, 17.1, also 81.19-25 and 53.1-12. Also, <Mi'radj,>> EI(1), 3:505- 08; and ibid., ((Isra',)) 2:553-554. Helpful is Annemarie Schimmel, And Muhammad is His Messenger: The Veneration of the Prophet in Islamic Piety (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1985) 159-175, which cites additional, more recent bibliography.

47 A good idea of the general state of the micrdj story during Ibn Sina's time may be had from Abu I-Qasim 'Abd al-Karim ibn Hawazin al-Qusayrl's, Kitdb al- miCra-j, ed. A. H. cAbd al-Qadir (Cairo: Dar al-kutub al-haditha, 1964). Al- Qusayri (d. 465/1074), who lived in Iran a generation after Ibn Sind, brings together various accounts of the mi'crdj current in his day and presents an overview on the different ways it was interpreted.


Spirit, the Qur'anic phrase with which he associates this principle, or the materialized figure of the archangel Michael in which he clothes the Qur'anic phrase? To a limited extent (and I do not wish to press this point too far), it seems to me that here Ibn Sina is religiosizing (if I may create this term) philosophy to the same degree that he is philosophizing religion. Put another way, he momentarily stands above both traditions. The end result may only be his own interpretation, open to rejection by both philosophers and religious scholars. Yet at this particular point, Ibn Sina stands outside, above both traditions. He adopts what he wants or needs fromn each to create his own symbols.

It is clear from the passages first quoted that Ibn Sind had attained an intellectual position external to revelation's plain meaning. There he talks of revelation's two levels: the exoteric level of concrete material images and the esoteric level of intelligible principles. There is, however, evidence that at least in the latter part of his life Ibn Sina viewed the philosophical tradition within which he worked from much the same perspective. In a famous introduction to a late work entitled Mantiq al-mas`riqiyyzn, (The Logic of the Orientals), Ibn Sina complains of the rigidity of thought and ser- vilely imitative attitude of contemporary philosophers, those who followed the Greek Peripatetic tradition. Since they were the only ones engaged in philosophy at the time, he is reluctant to break ranks. He is willing, he says, to ignore minor areas of disagree- ment, voicing his real opinions only when he has strongly disagreed. He ends by saying:

We compiled this book to show it only to ourselves, I mean those who hold the same position as ourselves. As for the common people who pursue the subject, we have given them the Kitab as'-Sifd' (The Book of the Healing). This is sufficient for them, beyond their need48.

Considering that the SifJd is Ibn Sina's philosophical magnum opus, the result of a life-time of philosophical inquiry, this is a remarkable statement. For here Ibn Sina dismisses the book, saying he wrote it for <<the common people))-among the philosophers!

48 Ibn Sind, Mantiq al-masriqiyyin (Cairo: al-Maktaba as-salafiyya, 1910) 3. This interpretation accords with the philosopher's well-known ,mystical turn,> as exhibited in the last part of al-fdradt wa-t-tanbihdt. Ibn Sind, I believe, was never a Sufi in the strict meaning of the term. But he was quite willing to explore analogues that seemed to accord with his own intellectual and spiritual intuitions.

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Ibn Sina clearly works principally in the philosophical tradition of his time. There are signs, however, that he took this tradition as seriously as he did religion. This is, I think, very seriously indeed, but not-ultimately-definitively so. There are indications that in the latter part of his career, Ibn Sina struggled to transcend both traditions. Striving to view them from his own individually creative vantage-point, he sought an hermeneutic position from which he could treat them equally. From such a perspective, religion and philosophy both contain truths cloaked in symbols; both have exoteric levels addressed to the masses and esoteric meanings intended for the few; both serve, therefore, as equally useful resources from which individual thinkers may draw on in order to explicate their intuitions and beliefs. The hermeneutic position to which Ibn Sina aspired, Ibn al-'Arabi attained.

IV

Ibn al-CArabi's work, Fuisu al-hikam (The Bezels of Wisdom), presents in microcosm the mystic's speculative doctrines49. The book is organized around Ibn al-cArabl's prophetology. Each of its thirty-seven chapters is devoted to ((The Wisdom of (x) in the Word of (y),)> i.e. a specific concept in relation to a specific prophet: Abraham, Ishmael, Joseph, Jacob, Enoch, Solomon, Jesus, and so on. The book's last chapter treats <The Wisdom of Singularity in the Word of Muhammad.>> It first, naturally enough, discusses <The Wisdom of Divinity in the Word of Adam.)>

Ibn al-cArabl's mystical theories are both detailed and complex. His hermeneutic method, however, shares certain points of similarity with that of Ibn Sina, as described above. Ibn al-cArabi also holds to the hermeneutic principle that texts have exoteric and esoteric levels of meaning50. But he differs from the philosopher in

49 Muhyi d-Din Abu- Bakr Muhammad ibn al-'ArabT, Fusus al-hikam, ed. Abfu I-cIld) Afifl (Cairo: Dar al-ihya) al-kutub al-'arabiyya, 1946). English trans. R. W. J. Austin, The Bezels of Wisdom, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1980).

50 As with exegetical technical terms (see above, note 15), it is not possible to examine in detail the history of the concepts .zahir (exoteric, explicit) and batin

(esoteric, implicit). Suffice to say that their use, whether for rhetorical (see above, note 36) or hermeneutical purposes, is an assumption of interpretation rather than a result. See (inter alia, the sources are numerous) Cragg, Mind of the Qur'dn, 38-53 and 163-181; Wansbrough, Quranic Studies, 151ff. and 242-46; Nywia, Exigese coranique (throughout); and Gerhard Bowering, The Mystical Vision of Existence in Classical Islam: The Qur'dnic Hermeneutics of the $djfr Sahl At-Tustarz (d. 283/896) (Berlin, New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1980) 135-42.


two points: (1) the details of his theories and (2) his staunch refusal to restrict hermeneutic primacy to only one level of the text. It is not our task to investigate the first point here, but the latter requires attention.

One of the most controversial chapters in the Fusuys is that titled <(The Wisdom of Exaltation in the Word of Noah>>51. H-ere Ibn al- cArabi examines the relationship between divine immanence and transcendence, concentrating his discussion on Qur'dn 71, ((Surat Nzib4 (Noah). In this sura, Noah calls upon his people to turn away from their evil idolatrous ways and worship the One True God. Ibn al-cArabl contends that here Noah exemplifies the transcendentalist conception of God. Noah's people, on the other hand, have only an immanent understanding of Him; they worship graven idols. Ibn al-cArabl's main point here is that by emphasizing God's transcendence in his preaching, Noah frames his message in a way that denies the equally valid principle of God's immanence. As a result, his people neither understand nor accept what he is trying to tell them.

Had Noah combined the two aspects in summoning his people, they would have responded to his call. He appealed to their outer and inner understanding saying, Ask your Lord to shield you (from your sins), for He is Forgiving [71.10]. Then he said, I summoned them by night (inwardly) and by day (outwardly), but my summons only made them more averse (outer) [71.5-6]. He states that his people turned a deaf ear to his summons only because they knew (innately) the proper way for them (maintaining God's immanence is many forms) to respond to his summons (made from the standpoint of unity and transcendence). Those who know God understand the allusion Noah makes in respect of (what he knows to be the real state of) his people in that, by blaming them he praises them, since he knows the reason for their not responding (positively) to his summons; the reason being that his summons was made in a spirit of discrimination (seeking to oppose transcendence to immanence). The whole truth is a conjunction ... not a discrimination52.

Ibn al-cArabi contrasts Noah's practice of adopting the inap- propriate mode of address to Muhammad's practice.

Muhammad (unlike Noah) did not summon his people by night and by day, but by night during the day (as inner summons implicit in the outer one), and by day during the night (the outer truth being implicit in the inner)53.

Ibn al-cArabl here discusses the relationship between transcendence and immanence. But his position on this subject-

51 Ibn al-Arabi, Fusu-s, 68-74; Austin, Bezels, 71-81. 52 Ibid., 70; trans. Austin, Bezels, 75. 53 Ibid., 71; trans. Austin, Bezels, 76-77.

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that both are aspects of the same Unity, seen from different perspectives, and that both are necessary to fully understand God-is equally applicable to his theory of hermeneutics. He agrees with the philosophers that revelation has exoteric and esoteric levels of meaning. But according to him both are essential.

It is known that when the Scriptures speak of the Reality [God] they speak in a way that yields to the generality of men the immediately apparent meaning. The elite, on the other hand, understand all the meanings inherent in that utterance, in whatever terms it is expressed. The Truth is that the Reality [God] is manifest in every created being and in every concept, while He is (at the same time) hidden from all understanding...54

Ibn al-'Arabi, thus, affirms the validity of both inner and outer levels of meaning. This position enables him to accept all of religion's external ordinances and texts literally; at the same time it allows him to interpret them as he sees fit. And his interpretations, although consistent with his general theory, are rarely what a traditionalist such as at-Tabari would have immediately understood from the text. Let us examine briefly part of Ibn al-'Arabl's interpretation of the story of Adam's creation. The first few pages of his first chapter, devoted to Adam, are in fact a running commentary on the Qur)dnic passages we first quoted. Why did God create Adam? Ibn al-CArabi's explanation is as follows:

The Reality [God] wanted to see the essences of His Most Beautiful Names or, to put it another way, to see His own Essence, in an all-inclusive object encompassing the whole (divine) Command, which, qualified by existence, would reveal to Him His own mystery...

Thus the (divine) Command required (by its very nature) the reflective characteristic of the mirror of the Cosmos, and Adam was the very principle of reflection for that mirror and the spirit of that form55.

Ibn al-'Arabi continues to interpret. He explains the significance of Adam's <<vice-regency,o his relationship to the angels, why their protests against his creation had no foundation, and so on. What he says makes perfect sense within the particular context of his theories. More important for our purposes is that he expounds his theories on the basis of completely accepting the meaning of the text he is interpreting. Not every Muslim would accept his interpretation, but none could accuse him of rejecting revelation's literal sense. In fact, in his magnum opus, al-Futuhdt al-Makkiyya (The Mec- can Disclosures) Ibn al-'Arab! (in the course of other things) inter-

54 Ibid., 68; trans. Austin, Bezels, 73. 55 Ibid., 48-49; trans. Austin, Bezels, 50-51.


prets his way through all of the standard theological dogma of his day. He has a comprehensive, inclusive view of reality. Therefore, there is a place for every religious text or tenet that a literalist might deem essential. An appropriate significance can be found everything. All that is required is interpretation56.

V

The preceding discussion has aimed at adumbrating three stances toward a privileged text. In the Islamic context, each stance, and the hermeneutic strategies it provokes, may be associated with specific schools or intellectual traditions: Qur'anic commentary, prophetic tradition, theology, philosophy, sectarian advocacy, mysticism. But it would be erroneous to impose such associations absolutely; to a certain extent practice stemming from each may occur in any school or tradition. Authors must be examined carefully on an individual basis in order to ascertain which stance (or combination of stances) each adopts.

In the first stance, the interpreter accepts the privileged status of the text and consciously relegates interpretation to a lower position. The latter's subservient position is never questioned. In the second, the interpreter rejects, implicitly or explicitly, the privileged nature of the text and attempts to displace it by reading it in terms of other texts or modes of discourse granted higher privilege. In the third, texts (or modes of discourse) are accepted as equal, varied but con- gruent expressions of the truth. Here the hermeneutic of one discourse confirms the other; the other, the one.

The hermeneutical goals-and, to some extent, methods-of each stance can be logically predicted. The first tries to elucidate

56 See Ibn al-CArabl, al-Futiiiht al-Makkiyya, 4 vols. (Beirut: Dar Sadir, n.d. [Builaq version]). See also Toshihiko Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts, rev. ed. (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1983). Part I. (devoted to Ibn al-'Arabi), 8-22, for the chapter on Noah, 48-67, but also throughout; A. E. Afifi, The Mystical Philosophy of Muhyid Din IbnulArabi, repr. of 1st ed. (Lahore: Sh. Muhammad, Ashraf, 1964); H. Cor- bin's book, cited in note 1; and Nasr Hamid Abu Zaid, Falsafat at-ta'wfl. Dirdsa ft ta)wFI al-Qur'dn cinda Mukyi d-Dfn ibn cArabf (Beirut: Dar al-wahda, 1983) esp. 195-231. For a useful review of recent works on Ibn al-cArabi, see James W. Morris, <.Ibn cArabji and His Interpreters,> 2 parts in 3 sections, Journal of the American Oriental Society 106,3 (1986) 539-51: 106,4 (1986) 733-56; and 107,1 (1987) 101-19. See also Morris's new annotated translation of Chapter 367 of the Futzihdt, <<The Spiritual Ascension: Ibn cArabi and the MiCr4j: Part I,, JAOS 107,4 (1987) 629-52; Part II, JAOS 108,1 (1988) 63-77.

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the literal meaning of the prime text; the second, to subvert it; the third, to substantiate it. Less predictable, however, are the actual results that emerge from each process57.

At-Tabari's reverence for the privileged status of the Qur'dn (or, in regard to his history, historical reality) prevents him from approaching its text unmediated. His philological methodology provides one axis of mediation. He never confronts the Qur'dn's words directly; he addresses them secondarily, by analyzing their grammar, semantics, or history. Another essential mediational conduit is his strategy of secondary exegesis. He does not expound his personal beliefs directly. Instead, he studies the Qur'an's meaning by critically examining profuse masses- of communal tradition inherited from respected predecessors. Quoting numerous exegetic options in regard to any part-even single words-of the Qur'dn, permits at-Tabar1 to suggest an enormous range of potentially valid interpretation without encumbering himself with personal respon- sibility for exegesis with which he disagrees but, because of its authoritative origins, does not wish to reject; simultaneously, it provides him with corroborative support for interpretations he espouses-all without requiring him to approach the Qur'dn's text directly. Perusal of his tafstr (or history) leads the student of hermeneutics to the initially surprising conclusion that the hermeneutic that most respects a text determines it least.

The massive size and elaborate detail of at-Tabari's tafsir and history attest to his intense commitment to the privileged ontological status of both the Qur'an and history (in regard to the latter: the assumption of being able to ascertain the objective reality of the past). For him, the two do not represent the truth, they embody it. A seeker of truth finds it here-on the cosmic or human plane. The task of ascertaining it is all the more urgent when the intellectual environment of one's age is permeated with diversely imperfect or fraudulently distorted representations. At-Tabari therefore polishes off the tools of his trade-grammar, semantics,

57 I do not maintain that because each method has logical consequences, practitioners always accept, adopt, or are even consciously aware of them. Humans, after all, are rarely a logical species; one of the fascinating aspects of the study of hermeneutic is encountering instances where practitioners ignore, mitigate or even contravene the logical parameters of their methodology. For purposes of explication, however, it is useful to push the assumptions of each hermeneutical stance to its logical limits.


history, the methodology of critical analysis of inherited religious and historical traditions-and sets to work. Once at work, however, he is too sensitive and intelligent a scholar to force either the Qur'dn or historical reality into the straitjacket of literalism, to submit it to a univocal determination of the truth. Such a process would, para- doxically, destroy the privileged status of the very realms of discourse whose innate veracity he assumes. Determining a single literal meaning for history or the Qur'dn displaces each. In such circumstances, one no longer needs the original text(s); truth resides in secondary interpretation. Such a conclusion could only have hor- rified at-Tabari, as indeed the intensity of his disputes with contemporary Hanbalites suggests. Simply put, for him the truth value of each realm of discourse was too great for it to be expressed simply or literally58. At-Tabarl's dilemma, therefore, was not unlike that of contemporary mystics: how does one explicate truths which are by nature ineffable. The mystics resorted to metaphor, paradox, symbolism, poetry, and, as a last resort, technical terminology; at- Tabari, to scholarly methodology and explicit examination of as many sources as method and practicality permitted. If one cannot arrive at the exact truth, one can at least surround it. This, at- Tabari precedes to do.

Ibn Sina's hermeneutic leads to a different quandry. Initially, his strategy seems clear enough, even though it entails a particular type of duplicity. Reading text(s) from the perspective of an external,

58 Al-Gazali points out that even literalists must resort to interpretation at times:

Unbelief needs not necessarily be affirmed of interpreters [al-mu'awwilfn] so long as they continue to adhere to the law of interpretation as we shall point it out. How could it be necessary to affirm unbelief because of interpretation when there is not a group of the people of Islam save that is compelled to use it?

The man most remote from interpretation [ta 'wFl] was Ahmad ibn Hanbal-God's mercy be upon him! And the most bizarre of interpretations and that farthest removed from reality (al-haqiqa) is that you make the thing said a trope (majdzan: figure of speech) or a metaphor (isticdra), this being mental existence and analogical existence. But even the Hanbalite is compelled to it and professes it.

Al-Gazall proceeds to give three examples where Ahmad ibn Hanbal resorted to such interpretation. Even literalists must interpret; indeed, at-Tabarl might argue that by refusing to do so they are losing the text, not saving it. Al-Gazali, Faisal at-tafriqa bain al-Isldm wa-l-Zandaqa, in al-Qusuir al-cawdlf min rasa'il al-Imam al- Gazdli, ed. Muhammad M. Abu- l-Ila, part 1, (Cairo: Maktabat al-Jundi (al- Gindi], n.d.) 135-36. Translation from R. J. McCarthy, Freedom and Fulfillment, 155.

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more privileged mode of discourse, the interpreter uses the latter as an hermeneutic key to unlock the doors of the former's dimension of hidden meaning. (In Ibn S-in&'s case, religious texts are apprehended through the hermeneutic prism of philosophy, but the principle is a general one.)59 The inner meaning thus disclosed becomes the original text's ((real)> meaning, privileged (for the interpreter) in regard to literal meaning. This implies, however, that literal meaning, now allegorized, is true only in some secondary way. Its relation to truth is no longer direct but rather-at best- indirect. The logical implications of this are clear. Using hermeneutic ((keys?> to read texts allegorically creates two levels of meaning, but it intimates the fictionality of one. If only those learned in philosophical truths understand the ((real>) meaning of the Qur'dn, what remains for those unendowed with philosophical knowledge or acumen: the Qur'dn's ((less true,>> (less real,?> ((secondarily real>> meanings? And how many gradations of ((lesser? semantic realities are required before truth becomes fiction? For its practitioners, (as modern western history, at least, suggests) the theory of double-truth is less a substantive philosophical position than a temporary rhetorical strategy60.

59 Saint Augustine interprets the Christian scriptures on the basis of ideals of virtue:

If a locution is admonitory, condemning either vice or crime or commen- ding either utility or beneficence, it is not figurative. But if it seems to com- mend either vice or beneficence, it is figurative.

Saint Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, trans. D. W. Robertson, Jr. (Indianapolis: The Library of Liberal Arts, 1951) Book 3, Part 16, p. 93; see also 3:10, pp. 87-88. Quoted in Todorov, Symbolism, 98. Augustine suggests that in such cases one <may take examples from those things that are manifest to illuminate those things which are obscure,>; but he perhaps deemphasizes the fact that the interpreter has much to say about which things are determined <<manifest>> or <<obscure,>> Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 2:9, p. 42. Todorov's distinction between paradigmatic and syntagmatic interpretational triggers is useful here. He would characterize Ibn Sin-a's (or Augustine's) hermeneutic strategy as paradigmatic (interpretation triggered by criteria external to the text, i.e. philosophical doctrine) and at-Tabari's as essentially syntagmatic (triggered from within the text), see Todorov, Symbolism, 30-32 and 101.

60 I must emphasize here that I am discussing the practitioners of this hermeneutics, in this case the philosophers themselves, not, as one might put it, their recipients, the general public. In other words, I am addressing the epistemological rather than the political dimension of this question. Philosophers such as Ibn Rusd may sincerely feel that there are legitimate levels of assent to the truths of revelation, but there is little doubt concerning the level to which he grants privileged status. Lower levels of assent might suffice for others, only demonstration suffices for him. Similarly, in Ibn Sina's epistle, Hayy ibn Yaqzan


But this is not Ibn Sind's quandry; his is more serious, if less immediately obvious. It stems from the premise of duplicity that lies at the heart of the hermeneutic he invokes. Esoteric meaning cannot stand alone. The attainment of truth is contingent upon the existence of essentially redundant but nevertheless necessary exoteric meaning. Truth must always be un-veiled, re-vealed, disclosed. One may always stop, of course, and award one or more texts positions of ultimate privilege. At-Tabar1 does this with the Qur'dn; one might argue that Ibn Rusd, with his many commentaries, does it with the Aristotelian corpus. But what if what one privileges is truth itself? Modern scientists seek truth from empirical investigation of external nature; a pre-modern philosopher such as Ibn Sina seeks it from texts. But for a brilliantly inquiring mind, unveiling or unlocking esoteric meaning from exoteric texts is an unending process. Once texts-the Qur'dn or the miCrdj story-are interpreted, reworked, subverted, and displaced, the inadequacy of the outcome is perceived. And so the process must begin again; new exoteric texts are required as bases from which the seeker attempts once again to scale the summit of truth.

It appears to me (and this is a suggestion, requiring further investigation) that towards the end of his life, Ibn Sina was struggling with this self-inflicted hermeneutical dilemma. The attempt led him in two directions. The first was the self-creation of exoteric texts requiring esoteric readings: his allegorical narratives, Risdlat at-tayr, Iayy ibn Yaqza`n, Absdl and Salma-n. This also explains his interest in allegorizing the story of the Prophet's milraj, a narrative with no set text, requiring, at least in part, literary creation. It also accounts for his fascination with mythic or symbolic images, such as rdh al- qudus, emanating from religious tradition. An alternative direction,

recognizes that the rational soul naturally has two companions, the lesser faculties of the soul, but he nevertheless calls upon it to stop associating with them. Ibn Tufayl's Hayy ibn Yaqzan accepts (sddaqa) the religion that Absal explained to him, but he also <<pitied mankind and hoped that it might be through him that they would be saved. He was eager to go to these men to reveal and explain the Truth> (emphasis mine). Ultimately, Hjayy gives up on mankind, realizing them to be ((stupid, inadequate, and weak willed.,, But he himself does not remain on their level; with his disciple Absal, he abandons the community of men to apprehend the Truth unhindered. Others cling to revelation, he does not. In al-FarTbh's terms, Hayy is not content with mere representation (muhdkd) of the truth, he wants direct intellectual apprehension (tasawwur). Ibn Tufayl, IHayy ibn Yaq-zan, 126-26; trans. 161- 62. The question for the espousers of tasawwur then becomes, what is the real truth value, in regard to themselves, of muhdkd? See also above, note 34.

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and one which evidence suggests increasingly intrigued Ibn Sind, was to use the Peripatetic philosophical tradition within which he worked, including his own contributions to it, as exoteric texts and work to disclose their <<inner>> meaning. In other words, to suggest, allude to, insinuate the existence of an enticingly alluring and mysterious-but understandably never revealed or elaborated- level of <inner>> philosophical meaning (Hikma masriqzjyya61).

Ironically, both strategies leave Ibn Sina trapped by the hermeneutic he espouses. The conceptual dichotomy upon which it is based presumes a duplicity (in the literal sense) of meanings. True meaning always lies beneath the surface. But once the surface is removed, the assumption of dichotomy remains; the hermeneutical process is reactive; it requires exoteric meaning. Therefore, a new surface level must be created, either as self- created allegorical narrative or from previously hidden, but now exposed, inner meanings of prior texts. One is reminded of the

61 Plato struggles with the same dilemma, see his remarks, for example, in ((Let- ter VII>>:

For everything that exists there are three classes of objects through which knowledge about it must come; the knowledge itself is a fourth, and we must put as a fifth entity the actual object of knowledge which is true reality. We have then, first, a name, second, a description, third, an image, and fourth, a knowledge of the object....

... if...'a man does not somehow or other get hold of the first four, he will never gain a complete understanding of the fifth. Furthermore these four [names, descriptions, bodily forms, concepts] do as much to illustrate the particular quality of any object as they do to illustrate its essential reality because of the inadequacy of language. Hence no intelligent man will ever be so bold as to put into language those things which his reason has con- templated, especially not into a form that is unalterable-which must be the case with what is expressed in written symbols.

... For this reason no serious man will ever think of writing about serious realities for the general public so as to make them a prey to envy and perplex- ity. In a word, it is an inevitable conclusion from this that when anyone sees anywhere the written work of anyone, whether that of a lawgiver in his laws or whatever it may be in some other form, the subject treated cannot have been his most serious concern-that is, if he were a serious man. His most serious interests have their abode somewhere in the noblest region of the field of his activity. If, however, he really was seriously concerned with these matters and put them in writing, 'then surely' not the gods, but mortals 'have utterly blasted his wits.' [Iliad 7.360, 12.234].

This from a philosopher whose collected writings run to almost two thousand pages! See The Collected Dialogues of Plato, Including the Letters, ed. E. Hamilton and H. Cairns, Bollingen Series 71 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1961) 1590-91 (My thanks to Tomis Kapitan for drawing my attention to this passage.)


image of the snake eating its own tail. In this hermeneutic, as the tail is consumed, the head becomes the tail62.

This point becomes clearer when one compares Ibn Sind's hermeneutic with that of Ibn al-cArab1. It is not by chance that I discuss the latter's method last-and least. For he is a writer whose intellectual (or, as he would say, spiritual) outlook combines an essentially simple-if breathtakingly radical-central insight with profuse, variegated, elaborately detailed, and at times frankly perplexing exposition.

Ibn al-cArabI9s central insight is the unity of being; exposition consists of exploring and explaining this insight's implications. Like Ibn Sina, he cannot do this in a vacuum; he too needs exoteric levels of texts. He adopts-and adapts-the intellectual materials of his historical environment to serve as a prism through which to for- mulate his innately inexpressible spiritual insights. But unlike Ibn Sina, Ibn al-cArabl's hermeneutic stance, based on the conviction of existential unicity, does not privilege particular texts or discourses (or, implicitly, particular historical, social, or religious conventions or semiologies). Existence has no hierarchy, only relationships. The whole contains parts, but each part implies, requires, and contains the whole. The world-view that ensues is mythopoetic; it is a <<world of total metaphor, in which everything is potentially [Ibn al-cArabi would say essentially] identical with everything else, as though it were all [Ibn al-cArabi: is all] inside a single body)>63. It is not by chance that Sucad al-Hakim's monumental dictionary of Ibn al-cArabi's terminology contains no entry for ta'wdl, for the mystic's entire corpus is ta'wil. In the introduction to the Fusui-, he states that, <I have not set forth here anything except what was set before me, not have I written in this book aught but what was revealed to me.>) As Paul Nywia puts it,

62 In E. D. Hirsch's terms, significance becomes meaning; but once this happens a new level of significance must be found; meaning, once literal and explicit is <<dead.>> Alternatively, one can presume the same dichotomy of meaning, but quash the inner rather than the outer one. This path ultimately leads to scientific positivism and the reaction of the post-modern nihilism of Nietzsche and Heidegger. For elaboration on this point, see Allan Megill, Prophets of Extremity: Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Derrida (Berkeley, Los Angelos: University of California Press, 1985). Relevant hcre as well is Charles Adam's essay, ((The Hermeneutics of Henry Cor- bin,,, in R. C. Martin, ed., Approaches to Islam, 129-50 (see note 1 for full citation).

63 Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism (New York: Atheneum, 1970 [originally, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956]) 136.

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for the mystic, 1experience-not texts-is the principe hermeneutique64. From Ibn al-cArab-l's perspective ((interpretation [like hell-fire] neither spares nor leaves>>; all texts, indeed all phenomena, are simultaneously the subject and object of ta'wil, mu awwil and mu'awwal, interpreter and interpreted65.

Having attempted to sketch the principles of three hermeneutic stances at work in pre-modern Islamic intellectual life, as well as indicated briefly some of their results, I must end with the caveat of the <(Principle of Particularism.>) This principle states that abstract theoretical paradigms are of general use only; once one applies them to specific cases, they must be accommodated to the particular circumstances of each case. This accommodation transpires on three levels: historical influences, pertaining to the specific age and milieu each author inhabits; individual influences, stemming from each individual writer's temperament, experiences, and environment; and hermeneutic influences, arising from the interpretational process itself. The first two levels are axiomatic; every critic or historian allows (or should allow) for them automatically. The third is frequently overlooked but nonetheless important. Inter- pretation is not an isolated individual act; nor, as Nasr Abui Zaid points out, is it the unilateral action of an active agent on a passive text66. Interpretation is a dialectically creative process. What emerges is often very different than what enters. This becomes important from a theoretical perspective when textual particularities which to an external observer appear of minor or idiosyncratic importance spark the interest and imagination of an individual interpreter. It is not unusual that such seemingly particularistic sparks give birth to new intellectual currents.

Washington University

64 To be sure, Ibn al-CArabi is careful to add: <<Nor yet am I a prophet or an apostle.>> Ibn al-'Arabi, Fusus, 48; trans. Austin, Bezels, 46. Also, Su'ad al-Hakim,

al-Mu5jam as-sufiyya. al-HIikma Ji hudiid al-kalima (Beirut: Dandara, 1981); Paul Nywia, Exegese coranique, 67-68, 109ff; also Bowering, Mystical Vision of Existence, 135-37.

65 <At-ta'wdl ldyubql wa-ld yadharu,,, Muhyl-d-din ibn 'Arabi [or perhaps CAbd ar-Razzaq al-Qs'dni], Tafszr al-Qurdn al-karim, ed. Mustafa Ghalib, 2 vols. (Beirut: Dar al-Andalus, 1981) 1:5. See Qur'dn, 74.28. Also cited in Ayoub, The Qur'dn and its Interpreters, 6.

66 Nasr Hamid Abu- Zaid, Falsafat at-ta'wil, 6 (but also throughout the book). Also involved here, of course, is the hermeneutic stance, background, and per- sonality of the external analyst, for as the phenomenologists have so cogently pointed out, the so-called <.objectivity>> of scholarly analysis is only another level of subjective interpretation.

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Creative Hermeneutics a Comparative Analysis of Three Islamic Approaches