CHRISTIANITY
AND
ISLAM
BY
C.H. BECKER, PH.D.
PROFESSOR OF ORIENTAL HISTORY IN
THE COLONIAL INSTITUTE OF HAMBURG
TRANSLATED BY
REV. H.J. CHAYTOR, M.A.
HEADMASTER OF PLYMOUTH COLLEGE
1909
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The subject from different points of view: limits of treatment
The nature of the subject: the historical points of connection between
Christianity and Islam
A. Christianity and the rise of Islam:
1. Muhammed and his contemporaries
2. The influence of Christianity upon the development of Muhammed
3. Muhammed's knowledge of Christianity
4. The position of Christians under Muhammedanism
B. The similarity of Christian and Muhammedan metaphysics during the
middle ages:
1. The means and direction by which Christian influence affected
Islam
2. The penetration of daily life by the spirit of religion;
asceticism, contradictions and influences affecting the
development of a clerical class and the theory of
marriage
3. The theory of life in general with reference to the doctrine
of immortality
4. The attitude of religion towards the State, economic life,
society, etc.
5. The permanent importance to Islam of these influences: the
doctrine of duties
6. Ritual
7. Mysticism and the worship of saints
8. Dogma and the development of scholasticism
C. The influence of Islam upon Christianity:
The manner in which this influence operated, and the explanation
of the superiority of Islam
The influence of Muhammedan philosophy
The new world of European Christendom and the modern East
Conclusion. The historical growth of religion
Bibliography
CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM
A comparison of Christianity with Muhammedanism or with any other
religion must be preceded by a statement of the objects with which
such comparison is undertaken, for the possibilities which lie in this
direction are numerous. The missionary, for instance, may consider
that a knowledge of the similarities of these religions would increase
the efficacy of his proselytising work: his purpose would thus be
wholly practical. The ecclesiastically minded Christian, already
convinced of the superiority of his own religion, will be chiefly
anxious to secure scientific proof of the fact: the study of
comparative religion from this point of view was once a popular branch
of apologetics and is by no means out of favour at the present day.
Again, the inquirer whose historical perspective is undisturbed by
ecclesiastical considerations, will approach the subject with somewhat
different interests. He will expect the comparison to provide him with
a clear view of the influence which Christianity has exerted upon
other religions or has itself received from them: or he may hope by
comparing the general development of special religious systems to gain
a clearer insight into the growth of Christianity. Hence the object of
such comparisons is to trace the course of analogous developments and
the interaction of influence and so to increase the knowledge of
religion in general or of our own religion in particular.
A world-religion, such as Christianity, is a highly complex structure
and the evolution of such a system of belief is best understood by
examining a religion to which we have not been bound by a thousand
ties from the earliest days of our lives. If we take an alien religion
as our subject of investigation, we shall not shrink from the
consequences of the historical method: whereas, when we criticise
Christianity, we are often unable to see the falsity of the
pre-suppositions which we necessarily bring to the task of inquiry:
our minds follow the doctrines of Christianity, even as our bodies
perform their functions--in complete unconsciousness. At the same time
we possess a very considerable knowledge of the development of
Christianity, and this we owe largely to the help of analogy.
Especially instructive is the comparison between Christianity and
Buddhism. No less interesting are the discoveries to be attained by an
inquiry into the development of Muhammedanism: here we can see the
growth of tradition proceeding in the full light of historical
criticism. We see the plain man, Muhammed, expressly declaring in the
Qoran that he cannot perform miracles, yet gradually becoming a
miracle worker and indeed the greatest of his class: he professes to
be nothing more than a mortal man: he becomes the chief mediator
between man and God. The scanty memorials of the man become voluminous
biographies of the saint and increase from generation to generation.
Yet more remarkable is the fact that his utterances, his _logia_, if
we may use the term, some few of which are certainly genuine, increase
from year to year and form a large collection which is critically
sifted and expounded. The aspirations of mankind attribute to him such
words of the New Testament and of Greek philosophers as were
especially popular or seemed worthy of Muhammed; the teaching also of
the new ecclesiastical schools was invariably expressed in the form of
proverbial utterances attributed to Muhammed, and these are now
without exception regarded as authentic by the modern Moslem. In this
way opinions often contradictory are covered by Muhummed's authority.
The traditions concerning Jesus offer an analogy. Our Gospels, for
instance, relate the beautiful story of the plucking of the ears of
corn on the Sabbath, with its famous moral application, "The Sabbath
was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." A Christian papyrus
has been discovered which represents Jesus as explaining the sanctity
of the Sabbath from the Judaeo-Christian point of view. "If ye keep
not the Sabbath holy, ye shall not see the Father," is the statement
in an uncanonical Gospel. In early Christian literature, contradictory
sayings of Jesus are also to be found. Doubtless here, as in
Muhammedan tradition, the problem originally was, what is to be my
action in this or that question of practical life: answer is given in
accordance with the religious attitude of the inquirer and Jesus and
Muhammed are made to lend their authority to the teaching. Traditional
literary form is then regarded as historical by later believers.
Examples of this kind might be multiplied, but enough has been said to
show that much and, to some extent, new light may be thrown upon the
development of Christian tradition, by an examination of Muhammedanism
which rose from similar soil but a few centuries later, while its
traditional developments have been much more completely preserved.
Such analogies as these can be found, however, in any of the
world-religions, and we propose to devote our attention more
particularly to the influences which Christianity and Islam exerted
directly upon one another. While Muhammedanism has borrowed from its
hereditary foe, it has also repaid part of the debt. By the very fact
of its historical position Islam was at first indebted to
Christianity; but in the department of Christian philosophy, it has
also exerted its own influence. This influence cannot be compared with
that of Greek or Jewish thought upon Christian speculation: Christian
philosophy, as a metaphysical theory of existence, was however
strongly influenced by Arabian thought before the outset of the
Reformation. On the other hand the influence of Christianity upon
Islam--and also upon Muhammed, though he owed more to Jewish
thought--was so extensive that the coincidence of ideas upon the most
important metaphysical questions is positively amazing.
There is a widespread belief even at the present day that Islam was a
complete novelty and that the religion and culture of the Muhammedan
world were wholly alien to Western medievalism. Such views are
entirely false; during the Middle Ages Muhammedanism and Western
culture were inspired by the same spirit. The fact has been obscured
by the contrast between the two religions whose differences have been
constantly exaggerated and by dissimilarities of language and
nationality. To retrace in full detail the close connection which
unites Christianity and Islam would be the work of years. Within the
scope of the present volume, all that can be done is to explain the
points of contact between Christian and Muhammedan theories of life
and religion. Such is the object of the following pages. We shall
first treat of Muhammed personally, because his rise as a religious
force will explain the possibility of later developments.
This statement also explains the sense in which we shall use the term
Christianity. Muhammedanism has no connection with post-Reformation
Christianity and meets it only in the mission field. Practical
questions there arise which lie beyond the limits of our subject, as
we have already indicated. Our interests are concerned with the
mediaeval Church, when Christianity first imposed its ideas upon
Muhammedanism at the time of its rise in the East, and afterwards
received a material extension of its own horizon through the rapid
progress of its protégé. Our task is to analyse and explain these
special relations between the two systems of thought.
The religion now known as Islam is as near to the preaching of
Muhammed or as remote from it, as modern Catholicism or Protestant
Christianity is at variance or in harmony with the teaching of Jesus.
The simple beliefs of the prophet and his contemporaries are separated
by a long course of development from the complicated religious system
in its unity and diversity which Islam now presents to us. The course
of this development was greatly influenced by Christianity, but
Christian ideas had been operative upon Muhammed's eager intellectual
life at an even earlier date. We must attempt to realise the working
of his mind, if we are to gain a comprehension of the original
position of Islam with regard to Christianity. The task is not so
difficult in Muhammed's case as in that of others who have founded
religious systems: we have records of his philosophical views,
important even though fragmentary, while vivid descriptions of his
experiences have been transmitted to us in his own words, which have
escaped the modifying influence of tradition at second hand. Muhammed
had an indefinite idea of the word of God as known to him from other
religions. He was unable to realise this idea effectively except as an
immediate revelation; hence throughout the Qoran he represents God as
speaking in the first person and himself appears as the interlocutor.
Even direct commands to the congregation are introduced by the
stereotyped "speak"; it was of primary importance that the Qoran
should be regarded as God's word and not as man's. This fact largely
contributed to secure an uncontaminated transmission of the text,
which seems also to have been left by Muhammed himself in definite
form. Its intentional obscurity of expression does not facilitate the
task of the inquirer, but it provides, none the less, considerable
information concerning the religious progress of its author. Here we
are upon firmer ground than when we attempt to describe Muhammed's
outward life, the first half of which is wrapped in obscurity no less
profound than that which veils the youth of the Founder of
Christianity.
Muhammed's contemporaries lived amid religious indifference. The
majority of the Arabs were heathen and their religious aspirations
were satisfied by local cults of the Old Semitic character. They may
have preserved the religious institutions of the great South Arabian
civilisation, which was then in a state of decadence; the beginnings
of Islam may also have been influenced by the ideas of this
civilisation, which research is only now revealing to us: but these
points must remain undecided for the time being. South Arabian
civilisation was certainly not confined to the South, nor could an
organised township such as Mecca remain outside its sphere of
influence: but the scanty information which has reached us concerning
the religious life of the Arabs anterior to Islam might also be
explained by supposing them to have followed a similar course of
development. In any case, it is advisable to reserve judgment until
documentary proof can replace ingenious conjecture. The difficulty of
the problem is increased by the fact that Jewish and especially
Christian ideas penetrated from the South and that their influence
cannot be estimated. The important point for us to consider is the
existence of Christianity in Southern Arabia before the Muhammedan
period. Nor was the South its only starting-point: Christian doctrine
came to Arabia from the North, from Syria and Babylonia, and numerous
conversions, for the most part of whole tribes, were made. On the
frontiers also Arabian merchants came into continual contact with
Christianity and foreign merchants of the Christian faith could be
found throughout Arabia. But for the Arabian migration and the
simultaneous foundation of a new Arabian religion, there is no doubt
that the whole peninsula would have been speedily converted to
Christianity.
The chief rival of Christianity was Judaism, which was represented in
Northern as in Southern Arabia by strong colonies of Jews, who made
proselytes, although their strict ritualism was uncongenial to the
Arab temperament which preferred conversion to Christianity (naturally
only as a matter of form). In addition to Jewish, Christian, and Old
Semitic influences, Zoroastrian ideas and customs were also known in
Arabia, as is likely enough in view of the proximity of the Persian
empire.
These various elements aroused in Muhammed's mind a vague idea of
religion. His experience was that of the eighteenth-century
theologians who suddenly observed that Christianity was but one of
many very similar and intelligible religions, and thus inevitably
conceived the idea of a pure and natural religious system fundamental
to all others. Judaism and Christianity were the only religions which
forced themselves upon Muhammed's consciousness and with the general
characteristics of which he was acquainted. He never read any part of
the Old or New Testament: his references to Christianity show that his
knowledge of the Bible was derived from hearsay and that his
informants were not representative of the great religious sects:
Muhammed's account of Jesus and His work, as given in the Qoran, is
based upon the apocryphal accretions which grew round the Christian
doctrine.
When Muhammed proceeded to compare the great religions of the Old and
New Testaments with the superficial pietism of his own compatriots, he
was especially impressed with the seriousness of the Hebrews and
Christians which contrasted strongly with the indifference of the
heathen Arabs. The Arab was familiar with the conception of an
almighty God, and this idea had not been obscured by the worship of
trees, stones, fire and the heavenly bodies: but his reverence for
this God was somewhat impersonal and he felt no instinct to approach
Him, unless he had some hopes or fears to satisfy. The idea of a
reckoning between man and God was alien to the Arab mind. Christian
and Jewish influence became operative upon Muhammed with reference
to this special point. The idea of the day of judgment, when an
account of earthly deeds and misdeeds will be required, when the joys
of Paradise will be opened to the good and the bad will be cast into
the fiery abyss, such was the great idea, which suddenly filled
Muhammed's mind and dispelled the indifference begotten of routine and
stirred his mental powers.
Polytheism was incompatible with the idea of God as a judge supreme
and righteous, but yet merciful. Thus monotheism was indissolubly
connected with Muhammed's first religious impulses, though the dogma
had not assumed the polemical form in which it afterwards confronted
the old Arabian and Christian beliefs. But a mind stirred by religious
emotion only rose to the height of prophetic power after a long course
of development which human knowledge can but dimly surmise.
Christianity and Judaism had their sacred books which the founders of
these religions had produced. In them were the words of God,
transmitted through Moses to the Jews and through Jesus to the
Christians. Jesus and Moses had been God's ambassadors to their
peoples. Who then could bring to the Arabs the glad tidings which
should guide them to the happy fields of Paradise? Among primitive
peoples God is regarded as very near to man. The Arabs had, their
fortune-tellers and augurs who cast lots before God and explained His
will in mysterious rhythmical utterances. Muhammed was at first more
intimately connected with this class of Arab fortune-tellers than is
usually supposed. The best proof of the fact is the vehemence with
which he repudiates all comparison between these fortune-tellers and
himself, even as early Christian apologetics and polemics attacked the
rival cults of the later classical world, which possessed forms of
ritual akin to those observed by Christianity. The existence of a
fortune-telling class among the Arabs shows that Muhammed may well
have been endowed with psychological tendencies which only awaited the
vivifying influence of Judaism and Christianity to emerge as the
prophetic impulse forcing him to stand forth in public and to stir the
people from their indifference: "Be ye converted, for the day of
judgment is at hand: God has declared it unto me, as he declared it
unto Moses and Jesus. I am the apostle of God to you, Arabs. Salvation
is yours only if ye submit to the will of God preached by me." This
act of submission Muhammed calls Islam. Thus at the hour of Islam's
birth, before its founder had proclaimed his ideas, the influence of
Christianity is indisputable. It was this influence which made of the
Arab seer and inspired prophet, the apostle of God.
Muhammed regarded Judaism and Christianity as religious movements
purely national in character. God in His mercy had announced His will
to different nations through His prophets. As God's word had been
interpreted for the Jews and for the Christians, so there was to be a
special interpretation for the benefit of the Arabs. These
interpretations were naturally identical in manner and differed only
as regards place and time. Muhammed had heard of the Jewish Messiah
and of the Christian Paraclete, whom, however, he failed to identify
with the Holy Ghost and he applied to himself the allusions to one who
should come after Moses and Jesus. Thus in the Qoran 61.6 we read,
"Jesus, the Son of Mary, said: Children of Israel, I am God's apostle
to you. I confirm in your hands the Thora (the law) and I announce the
coming of another apostle after me whose name is Ahmed." Ahmed is the
equivalent of Muhammed. The verse has been variously interpreted and
even rejected as an interpolation: but its authenticity is attested by
its perfect correspondence with what we know of Muhammed's
pretensions.
To trace in detail the development of his attitude towards
Christianity is a more difficult task than to discover the growth of
his views upon Judaism; probably he pursued a similar course in either
case. At first he assumed the identity of the two religions with one
another and with his own doctrine; afterwards he regarded them as
advancing by gradations. Adam, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammed,
these in his opinion were the chief stages in the divine scheme of
salvation. Each was respectively confirmed or abolished by the
revelation which followed it, nor is this theory of Muhammed's shaken
by the fact that each revelation was given to a different nation. He
regards all preceding prophets in the light of his own personality.
They were all sent to people who refused them a hearing at the moment.
Punishment follows and the prophet finds a body of believers
elsewhere. These temporary punishments are confused with the final
Judgment; in fact Muhammed's system was not clearly thought out. The
several prophets were but men, whose earthly careers were necessarily
crowned with triumph: hence the crucifixion of Jesus is a malicious
invention of the Jews, who in reality crucified some other sufferer,
while Jesus entered the divine glory. Thus Muhammed has no idea of the
importance of the Crucifixion to the Christian Church, as is shown by
his treatment of it as a Jewish falsehood. In fact, he develops the
habit of characterising as false any statement in contradiction with
his ideas, and this tendency is especially obvious in his dealings
with Judaism, of which he gained a more intimate knowledge. At first
he would refer sceptics to Christian and Jewish doctrine for
confirmation of his own teaching. The fact that with no knowledge of
the Old or New Testament, he had proclaimed doctrines materially
similar and the fact that these Scriptures referred to himself, were
proofs of his inspired power, let doubters say what they would. A
closer acquaintance with these Scriptures showed him that the
divergencies which he stigmatised as falsifications denoted in reality
vast doctrinal differences.
In order to understand Muhammed's attitude towards Christianity, we
will examine in greater detail his view of this religion, the portions
of it which he accepted or which he rejected as unauthentic. In the
first place he must have regarded the Trinity as repugnant to reason:
he considered the Christian Trinity as consisting of God the Father,
Mary the Mother of God, and Jesus the Son of God. In the Qoran, God
says, "Hast thou, Jesus, said to men, Regard me and my mother as Gods
by the side of God?" Jesus replies, "I will say nothing but the truth.
I have but preached, Pray to God, who is my Lord and your Lord"
(5.116, f). Hence it has been inferred that Muhammed's knowledge of
Christianity was derived from some particular Christian sect, such as
the Tritheists or the Arab female sect of the Collyridians who
worshipped the Virgin Mary with exaggerated reverence and assigned
divine honours to her. It is also possible that we have here a
development of some Gnostic conception which regarded the Holy Ghost
as of feminine gender, as Semites would do;[A] instances of this
change are to be found in the well-known Hymn of the Soul in the Acts
of Thomas, in the Gospel to the Egyptians and elsewhere. I am
inclined, however, to think it more probable that Muhammed had heard
of Mariolatry and of the "mother of God," a title which then was a
highly popular catchword, and that the apotheosis of Jesus was known
to him and also the doctrine of the Trinity by name. Further than this
his knowledge did not extend; although he knows the Holy Ghost and
identifies him with Jesus, none the less his primitive reasoning,
under the influence of many old beliefs, explained the mysterious
triad of the Trinity as husband, wife, and son. This fact is enough to
prove that his theory of Christianity was formed by combining isolated
scraps of information and that he cannot have had any direct
instruction from a Christian knowing the outlines of his faith.
[Footnote A: The word for "Spirit" is of the feminine gender in the
Semitic languages.]
Muhammed must also have denied the divinity of Christ: this is an
obvious result of the course of mental development which we have
described and of his characteristically Semitic theory of the nature
of God. To him, God is one, never begetting and never begotten.
Denying the divinity of Jesus, Muhammed naturally denies the
redemption through the Cross and also the fact of the Crucifixion.
Yet, strangely enough he accepted the miraculous birth; nor did he
hesitate to provide this purely human Jesus with all miraculous
attributes; these were a proof of his divine commission, and
marvellous details of this nature aroused the interest of his hearers.
Mary the sister of Ahron--an obvious confusion with the Old Testament
Miriam--had been devoted to the service of God by her mother's vow, and
lives in the temple under the guardianship of Zacharias, to whom a
later heir is born in answer to his prayers, namely John, the
forerunner of the Holy Ghost. The birth is announced to Mary and she
brings forth Jesus under a palm-tree, near which is a running spring
and by the dates of which she is fed. On her return home she is
received with reproaches by her family but merely points in reply to
the new-born babe, who suddenly speaks from his cradle, asserting that
he is the prophet of God. Afterwards Jesus performs all kinds of
miracles, forms birds out of clay and makes them fly, heals the blind
and lepers, raises the dead, etc., and even brings down from heaven a
table ready spread. The Jews will not believe him, but the youth
follow him. He is not killed, but translated to God. Christians are
not agreed upon the manner of his death and the Jews have invented the
story of the Crucifixion.
Muhammed's knowledge of Christianity thus consists of certain isolated
details, partly apocryphal, partly canonical, together with a hazy
idea of the fundamental dogmas. Thus the influence of Christianity
upon him was entirely indirect. The Muhammedan movement at its outset
was influenced not by the real Christianity of the time but by a
Christianity which Muhammed criticised in certain details and forced
into harmony with his preconceived ideas. His imagination was
profoundly impressed by the existence of Christianity as a revealed
religion with a founder of its own. Certain features of Christianity
and of Judaism, prayer, purification, solemn festivals, scriptures,
prophets and so forth were regarded by him as essential to any
religious community, because they happened to belong both to Judaism
and to Christianity. He therefore adopted or wished to adopt these
institutions.
During the period of his life at Medina, Muhammed abandoned his
original idea of preaching the doctrines which Moses and Jesus had
proclaimed. This new development was the outcome of a struggle with
Judaism following upon an unsuccessful attempt at compromise. In point
of fact Judaism and Christianity were as widely different from one
another as they were from his own teaching and he was more than ever
inclined to regard as his special forerunner, Abraham, who had
preceded both Moses and Jesus, and was revered by both religions as
the man of God. He then brought Abraham into connection with the
ancient Meccan Ka'ba worship: the Ka'ba or die was a sacred stone
edifice, in one corner of which the "black stone" had been built in:
this stone was an object of reverence to the ancient Arabs, as it
still is to the Muhammedans. Thus Islam gradually assumed the form of
an Arab religion, developing universalist tendencies in the ultimate
course of events. Muhammed, therefore, as he was the last in the ranks
of the prophets, must also be the greatest. He epitomised all prophecy
and Islam superseded every revealed religion of earlier date.
Muhammed's original view that earlier religions had been founded by
God's will and through divine revelation, led both him and his
successors to make an important concession: adherents of other
religions were not compelled to adopt Islam. They were allowed to
observe their own faith unhindered, if they surrendered without
fighting, and were even protected against their enemies, in return for
which they had to pay tribute to their Muslim masters; this was levied
as a kind of poll-tax. Thus we read in the Qoran (ix. 29) that "those
who possess Scriptures," i.e. the Jews and Christians, who did not
accept Islam were to be attacked until they paid the _gizja_ or
tribute. Thus the object of a religious war upon the Christians is not
expressed by the cry "Death or Islam"; such attacks were intended
merely to extort an acknowledgment of Muhammedan supremacy, not to
abolish freedom of religious observance. It would be incorrect for the
most part to regard the warrior bands which started from Arabia as
inspired by religious enthusiasm or to attribute to them the
fanaticism which was first aroused by the crusades and in an even
greater degree by the later Turkish wars. The Muhammedan fanatics of
the wars of conquest, whose reputation was famous among later
generations, felt but a very scanty interest in religion and
occasionally displayed an ignorance of its fundamental tenets which we
can hardly exaggerate. The fact is fully consistent with the impulses
to which the Arab migrations were due. These impulses were economic
and the new religion was nothing more than a party cry of unifying
power, though there is no reason to suppose that it was not a real
moral force in the life of Muhammed and his immediate contemporaries.
Anti-Christian fanaticism there was therefore none. Even in early
years Muhammedans never refused to worship in the same buildings as
Christians. The various insulting regulations which tradition
represents Christians as forced to endure were directed not so much
against the adherents of another faith as against the barely tolerated
inhabitants of a subjugated state. It is true that the distinction is
often difficult to observe, as religion and nationality were one and
the same thing to Muhammedans. In any case religious animosity was a
very subordinate phenomenon. It was a gradual development and seems to
me to have made a spasmodic beginning in the first century under the
influence of ideas adopted from Christianity. It may seem paradoxical
to assert that it was Christian influence which first stirred Islam to
religious animosity and armed it with the sword against Christianity,
but the hypothesis becomes highly probable when we have realised the
indifferentism of the Muhammedan conquerors.
We shall constantly see hereafter how much they owed in every
department of intellectual life to the teaching of the races which
they subjugated. Their attitude towards other beliefs was never so
intolerant as was that of Christendom at that period. Christianity may
well have been the teaching influence in this department of life as in
others. Moreover at all times and especially in the first century the
position of Christians has been very tolerable, even though the
Muslims regarded them as an inferior class, Christians were able to
rise to the highest offices of state, even to the post of vizier,
without any compulsion to renounce their faith. Even during the period
of the crusades when the religious opposition was greatly intensified,
again through Christian policy, Christian officials cannot have been
uncommon: otherwise Muslim theorists would never have uttered their
constant invectives against the employment of Christians in
administrative duties. Naturally zealots appeared at all times on the
Muhammedan as well as on the Christian side and occasionally isolated
acts of oppression took place: these were, however, exceptional. So
late as the eleventh century, church funeral processions were able to
pass through the streets of Bagdad with all the emblems of
Christianity and disturbances were recorded by the chroniclers as
exceptional. In Egypt, Christian festivals were also regarded to some
extent as holidays by the Muhammedan population. We have but to
imagine these conditions reversed in a Christian kingdom of the early
middle ages and the probability of my theory will become obvious.
The Christians of the East, who had broken for the most part with the
orthodox Church, also regarded Islam as a lesser evil than the
Byzantine established Church. Moreover Islam, as being both a
political and ecclesiastical organisation, regarded the Christian
church as a state within a state and permitted it to preserve its own
juridical and at first its own governmental rights. Application was
made to the bishops when anything was required from the community and
the churches were used as taxation offices. This was all in the
interests of the clergy who thus found their traditional claims
realised. These relations were naturally modified in the course of
centuries; the crusades, the Turkish wars and the great expansion of
Europe widened the breach between Christianity and Islam, while as the
East was gradually brought under ecclesiastical influence, the
contrast grew deeper: the theory, however, that the Muhammedan
conquerors and their successors were inspired by a fanatical hatred of
Christianity is a fiction invented by Christians.
We have now to examine this early development of Islam in somewhat
greater detail: indeed, to secure a more general appreciation of this
point is the object of the present work.
The relationship of the Qoran to Christianity has been already noted:
it was a book which preached rather than taught and enounced isolated
laws but no connected system. Islam was a clear and simple war-cry
betokening merely a recognition of Arab supremacy, of the unity of God
and of Muhammed's prophetic mission. But in a few centuries Islam
became a complex religious structure, a confusion of Greek philosophy
and Roman law, accurately regulating every department of human life
from the deepest problems of morality to the daily use of the
toothpick, and the fashions of dress and hair. This change from the
simplicity of the founder's religious teaching to a system of
practical morality often wholly divergent from primitive doctrine, is
a transformation which all the great religions of the world have
undergone. Religious founders have succeeded in rousing the sense of
true religion in the human heart. Religious systems result from the
interaction of this impulse with pre-existing capacities for
civilisation. The highest attainments of human life are dependent upon
circumstances of time and place, and environment often exerts a more
powerful influence than creative power. The teaching of Jesus was
almost overpowered by the Graeco-Oriental culture of later Hellenism.
Dissensions persist even now because millions of people are unable to
distinguish pure religion from the forms of expression belonging to an
extinct civilisation. Islam went through a similar course of
development and assumed the spiritual panoply which was ready to hand.
Here, as elsewhere, this defence was a necessity during the period of
struggle, but became a crushing burden during the peace which followed
victory, for the reason that it was regarded as inseparable from the
wearer of it. From this point of view the analogy with Christianity
will appear extremely striking, but it is something more than an
analogy: the Oriental Hellenism of antiquity was to Christianity that
which the Christian Oriental Hellenism of a few centuries later was to
Islam.
We must now attempt to realise the nature of this event so important
in the history of the world. A nomadic people, recently united, not
devoid of culture, but with a very limited range of ideas, suddenly
gains supremacy over a wide and populous district with an ancient
civilisation. These nomads are as yet hardly conscious of their
political unity and the individualism of the several tribes composing
it is still a disruptive force: yet they can secure domination over
countries such as Egypt and Babylonia, with complex constitutional
systems, where climatic conditions, the nature of the soil and
centuries of work have combined to develop an intricate administrative
system, which newcomers could not be expected to understand, much less
to recreate or to remodel. Yet the theory has long been held that the
Arabs entirely reorganised the constitutions of these countries.
Excessive importance has been attached to the statements of Arab
authors, who naturally regarded Islam as the beginning of all things.
In every detail of practical life they regarded the prophet and his
contemporaries as their ruling ideal, and therefore naturally assumed
that the constitutional practices of the prophet were his own
invention. The organisation of the conquering race with its tribal
subordination was certainly purely Arab in origin. In fact the
conquerors seemed so unable to adapt themselves to the conditions with
which they met, that foreigners who joined their ranks were admitted
to the Muhammedan confederacy only as clients of the various Arab
tribes. This was, however, a mere question of outward form: the
internal organisation continued unchanged, as it was bound to continue
unless chaos were to be the consequence. In fact, pre-existing
administrative regulations were so far retained that the old customs
duties on the former frontiers were levied as before, though they
represented an institution wholly alien to the spirit of the
Muhammedan empire. Those Muhammedan authors, who describe the
administrative organisation, recognise only the taxes which Islam
regarded as lawful and characterise others as malpractices which had
crept in at a later date. It is remarkable that these so-called
subsequent malpractices correspond with Byzantine and Persian usage
before the conquest: but tradition will not admit the fact that these
remained unchanged. The same fact is obvious when we consider the
progress of civilisation in general. In every case the Arabs merely
develop the social and economic achievements of the conquered races to
further issues. Such progress could indeed only be modified by a
general upheaval of existing conditions and no such movement ever took
place. The Germanic tribes destroyed the civilisations with which they
met; they adopted many of the institutions of Christian antiquity, but
found them an impediment to the development of their own genius. The
Arabs simply continued to develop the civilisation of post-classical
antiquity, with which they had come in contact.
This procedure may seem entirely natural in the department of economic
life, but by no means inevitable where intellectual progress is
concerned. Yet a similar course was followed in either case, as may be
proved by dispassionate examination. Islam was a rising force, a faith
rather of experience than of theory or dogma, when it raised its
claims against Christianity, which represented all pre-existing
intellectual culture. A settlement of these claims was necessary and
the military triumphs are but the prelude to a great accommodation of
intellectual interests. In this Christianity played the chief part,
though Judaism is also represented: I am inclined, however, to think
that Jewish ideas as they are expressed in the Qoran were often
transmitted through the medium of Christianity. There is no doubt that
in Medina Muhammed was under direct Jewish influence of extraordinary
power. Even at that time Jewish ideas may have been in circulation,
not only in the Qoran but also in oral tradition, which afterwards
became stereotyped: at the same time Muhammed's utterances against the
Jews eventually became so strong during the Medina period, for
political reasons, that I can hardly imagine the traditions in their
final form to have been adopted directly from the Jews. The case of
Jewish converts is a different matter. But in Christianity also much
Jewish wisdom was to be found at that time and it is well known that
even the Eastern churches regarded numerous precepts of the Old
Testament, including those that dealt with ritual, as binding upon
them. In any case the spirit of Judaism is present, either directly or
working through Christianity, as an influence wherever Islam
accommodated itself to the new intellectual and spiritual life which
it had encountered. It was a compromise which affected the most
trivial details of life, and in these matters religious scrupulosity
was carried to a ridiculous point: here we may see the outcome of that
Judaism which, as has been said, was then a definite element in
Eastern Christianity. Together with Jewish, Greek and classical ideas
were also naturally operative, while Persian and other ancient
Oriental conceptions were transmitted to Islam by Christianity: these
instances I have collectively termed Christian because Christianity
then represented the whole of later classical intellectualism, which
influenced Islam for the most part through Christianity.
It seems that the communication of these ideas to Muhammedanism was
impeded by the necessity of translating them not only into a kindred
language, but into one of wholly different linguistic structure. For
Muhammedanism the difficulty was lessened by the fact that it had
learned Christianity in Syria and Persia through the Semitic dialect
known as Aramaic, by which Greek and Persian culture had been
transmitted to the Arabs before the rise of Islam. In this case, as in
many others, the history of language runs on parallel lines with the
history of civilisation. The necessities of increasing civilisation
had introduced many Aramaic words to the Arabic vocabulary before
Muhammed's day: these importations increased considerably when the
Arabs entered a wider and more complex civilisation and were
especially considerable where intellectual culture was concerned. Even
Greek terms made their way into Arabic through Aramaic. This natural
dependency of Arabic upon Aramaic, which in turn was connected with
Greek as the rival Christian vernacular in these regions, is alone
sufficient evidence that Christianity exerted a direct influence upon
Muhammedanism. Moreover, as we have seen, the Qoran itself regarded
Christians as being in possession of divine wisdom, and some reference
both to Christianity and to Judaism was necessary to explain the many
unintelligible passages of the Qoran. Allusions were made to texts and
statements in the Thora and the Gospels, and God was represented as
constantly appealing to earlier revelations of Himself. Thus it was
only natural that interpreters should study these scriptures and ask
counsel of their possessors. Of primary importance was the fact that
both Christians and Jews, and the former in particular, accepted
Muhammedanism by thousands, and formed a new intellectual class of
ability infinitely superior to that of the original Muslims and able
to attract the best elements of the Arab nationality to their
teaching. It was as impossible for these apostate Christians to
abandon their old habits of thought as it was hopeless to expect any
sudden change in the economic conditions under which they lived.
Christian theories of God and the world naturally assumed a Muhammedan
colouring and thus the great process of accommodating Christianity to
Muhammedanism was achieved. The Christian contribution to this end was
made partly directly and partly by teaching, and in the intellectual
as well as in the economic sphere the ultimate ideal was inevitably
dictated by the superior culture of Christianity. The Muhammedans were
thus obliged to accept Christian hypotheses on theological points and
the fundaments of Christian and Muhammedan culture thus become
identical.
I use the term hypotheses, for the reason that the final determination
of the points at issue was by no means identical, wherever the Qoran
definitely contradicted Christian views of morality or social laws.
But in these cases also, Christian ideas were able to impose
themselves upon tradition and to issue in practice, even when opposed
by the actual text of the Qoran. They did not always pass unquestioned
and even on trivial points were obliged to encounter some resistance.
The theory of the Sunday was accepted, but that day was not chosen and
Friday was preferred: meetings for worship were held in imitation of
Christian practice, but attempts to sanctify the day and to proclaim
it a day of rest were forbidden: except for the performance of divine
service, Friday was an ordinary week-day. When, however, the Qoran was
in any sort of harmony with Christianity, the Christian ideas of the
age were textually accepted in any further development of the
question. The fact is obvious, not only as regards details, but also
in the general theory of man's position upon earth.
* * * * *
Muhammed, the preacher of repentance, had become a temporal prince in
Medina; his civil and political administration was ecclesiastical in
character, an inevitable result of his position as the apostle of God,
whose congregation was at the same time a state. This theory of the
state led later theorists unconsciously to follow the lead of
Christianity, which regarded the church as supreme in every department
of life, and so induced Muhammedanism to adopt views of life and
social order which are now styled mediaeval. The theological
development of this system is to be attributed chiefly to groups of
pious thinkers in Medina: they were excluded from political life when
the capital was transferred from Medina to Damascus and were left in
peace to elaborate their theory of the Muhammedan divine polity. The
influence of these groups was paramount: but of almost equal
importance was the influence of the proselytes in the conquered lands
who were Christians for the most part and for that reason far above
their Arab contemporaries in respect of intellectual training and
culture. We find that the details of jurisprudence, dogma, and
mysticism can only be explained by reference to Christian stimulus,
nor is it any exaggeration to ascribe the further development of
Muhammed's views to the influence of thinkers who regarded the
religious polity of Islam as the realisation of an ideal which
Christianity had hitherto vainly striven to attain. This ideal was the
supremacy of religion over life and all its activities, over the state
and the individual alike. But it was a religion primarily concerned
with the next world, where alone real worth was to be found. Earthly
life was a pilgrimage to be performed and earthly intentions had no
place with heavenly. The joy of life which the ancient world had
known, art, music and culture, all were rejected or valued only as
aids to religion. Human action was judged with reference only to its
appraisement in the life to come. That ascetic spirit was paramount,
which had enchained the Christian world, that renunciation of secular
affairs which explains the peculiar methods by which mediaeval views
of life found expression.
Asceticism did not disturb the course of life as a whole. It might
condemn but it could not suppress the natural impulse of man to
propagate his race: it might hamper economic forces, but it could not
destroy them. It eventually led to a compromise in every department of
life, but for centuries it retained its domination over men's minds
and to some material extent over their actions.