=Transcriber’s Note:= The author’s transliteration of Arabic words into
English is inconsistent, and often wrong in its usage of the ʾ and ʿ
characters. They have been left as printed (except where such marks were
missing entirely, in which case they have been supplied correctly).
On page 143 غزاّلي was changed to غزّالي.
A Moslem Seeker After God
By S. M. Zwemer, F. R. G. S.
_Mohammed or Christ._ Illustrated.
_Introduction by Rt. Rev. C. H. Stileman, M. A., sometime
Bishop of Persia_
An account of the rapid spread of Islam in all parts of the
globe, the methods employed to obtain proselytes, its immense
press, its strongholds, and suggested means to be adopted to
counteract the evil.
_The Disintegration of Islam._ Illustrated, 12mo, cloth
Dr. Zwemer traces the collapse of Islam as a political power in
Europe, Asia and Africa, as well as the inevitable effect of
the impact of Western civilization.
_Childhood in the Moslem World._ Illustrated, 8vo, cloth
Both in text and illustrations, Dr. Zwemer’s new book covers
much ground hitherto lying untouched in Mohammedan literature.
_Arabia: The Cradle of Islam._ Maps and numerous Illustrations, cloth
“The comprehensive scope of the volume covers a wide range of
interest, scientific and commercial, historical and literary,
sociological, religious.”—_Outlook._
By A. E. and S. M. Zwemer
_Zigzag Journeys in the Camel Country._ Arabia in Picture and Story.
Illustrated, 12mo, cloth
“Dr. and Mrs. Zwemer are charming guides. We commend the book
highly for interest and information.”—_Missionary Review of the
World._
_Topsy-Turvy Land._ Arabia Pictured for Children. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth
“A book of pictures and stories for big children and small
grown-up folk, for all who love Sinbad the Sailor and his
strange country.”—_Boston Globe._
[Illustration: The old ruined Mosque at Tus, Persia, probably dating from
the Eleventh Century.]
[Illustration: The supposed grave of Abu Hamid Al Ghazali at Tus.]
A Moslem Seeker
After God:
Showing Islam at its Best
in
the Life and Teaching of Al-Ghazali
Mystic and Theologian of the
Eleventh Century
By
SAMUEL M. ZWEMER
_Author of “The Disintegration of Islam,” “Childhood
in the Moslem World,” etc._
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK CHICAGO
Fleming H. Revell Company
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
Copyright, 1920, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave.
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street
_To the Faculties and Students of the Theological Seminary, New
Brunswick, N. J. and the College of Missions, Indianapolis, Ind. where
the several chapters of this book were given as lectures 1918-1920_
Introduction
By DR. J. RENDEL HARRIS
Al-Ghazali was a rare combination of scholar and saint, of the orthodox
Moslem and the aberrant Sufi. This work is a real contribution to the
history of religion, and will have a peculiar value which attaches to
Sufism at the present time. On the one hand we have the anthropologists
engaged in the task (and for the most part successfully engaged) of
tracing all religions to a common root, or roots, in the constitution
and the fears of primitive man; on the other hand we have the mystics,
of whom the Sufi is a leading representative, who are occupied in
demonstrating experimentally that all religions which start at the bottom
find their way to the top.
William Penn said something in the same direction when he affirmed that
all good men were of the same religion, and that they would know one
another when the livery was off. But what did he mean by taking the
livery off? The abstinence from rites, ceremonies and the like is a
negative process which certainly would not satisfy the genuine Sufi.
He would say with St. Paul, “Not that we would be unclothed, but rather
clothed upon, that mortality may be swallowed up of life.” That is real
mystic language, and suggests that we shall know one another, not so
much by being denuded of tradition and superstition (however desirable
the process may be in some points of view), as by putting on the robe of
light and sitting down in the heavenly places with Jesus Christ, _and
with any one else whom He calls into His companionship_.
Al-Ghazali tells us in his Confessions that he found the true way of life
in Sufism, that is, in Pantheism, yet he remained an orthodox Moslem,
that is, a Transcendentalist. At the present time, when the effects of
a war of unheard and unequalled severity are still perplexing men, the
Transcendent and the Immanent views of God are alike hard put to it.
Sufism is on its back, Transcendentalism can scarcely keep its feet.
It is a poor time of day for seeing God in all, almost as ill a time
for believing Him to be over all. Where speculation fails, or limps
along with lame feet or with broken wing, there must be some other way
of taking us to God Himself, beyond reason and safer than imagination.
Al-Ghazali found it, when he abandoned his lecture-room and went into the
wilderness. While he still continued to recite the formulas, which affirm
the Unity of God and the authority of His Apostle, he found his way into
the Sufi inner sanctuary, where one understands that
“he who lies,
Folded in favour on the Sultan’s breast,
Needs not a letter nor a messenger.”
The book tells us something about this side of his experience in the
Quest of Life, and when the story is finished we are reminded not to seek
the Living among the dead, but to believe that the same Lord is rich unto
all that call upon Him in truth.
J. R. H.
_Friends’ Settlement, Woodbrooke, England._
Preface
There are a score of lives of Mohammed, the great Arabian Prophet, in
the English language, yet there is no popular biography of the greatest
of all Moslems since his day, Al-Ghazali. Even the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_ gives only scant information. Professor Duncan B. Macdonald
prepared a life of Al-Ghazali with special reference to his religious
experiences and influence in a paper published in the twentieth volume
of “The Journal of the American Oriental Society” (1899), but now out
of print. His scholarly investigations and conclusions, however, deal
with Al-Ghazali’s inner experiences and his philosophy, rather than
with his environment and the events of his life. We acknowledge our
great indebtedness to his paper and to the original Arabic sources on
which it was based, especially the introduction to the Commentary on the
_Ihya_ by Sayyid Murtadha in ten volumes and entitled _Ithaf as-saʿada_.
I have found additional material in Al-Ghazali’s writings and other
books mentioned in the bibliography given in the appendix of this book,
especially the _Tabaqat ash-shafaiʾya_ by As-Subqi, who wrote long before
Murtadha and to whom Macdonald refers, but whose work he did not use.
The study of Al-Ghazali’s life and writings will, more than anything
else, awaken a deeper sympathy for that which is highest and strongest in
the religion of Islam; for the student of his works learns to appreciate
Islam at its best. As Jalal-ud-din says:
“Fools buy false coins because they are like the true.
If in the world no genuine minted coin
Were current, how would forgers pass the false?
Falsehood were nothing unless truth were there,
To make it specious. ’Tis the love of right
Lures men to wrong. Let poison but be mixed
With sugar, they will cram it into their mouths.
Oh, cry not that all creeds are vain! Some scent
Of truth they have, else they would not beguile.”
There is a real sense in which Al-Ghazali may be used as a schoolmaster
to lead Moslems to Christ. His books are full of references to the
teaching of Christ. He was a true seeker after God.
Islam is the prodigal son, the Ishmael, among the non-Christian
religions; this is a fact we may not forget. Now we read in Christ’s
matchless parable of the prodigal how “When he was yet a great way
off his father saw him and ran out to meet him and fell on his neck
and kissed him.” Have missionaries always had this spirit? No one
can read the story of Al-Ghazali’s life, so near and yet so far from
the Kingdom of God, so eager to enter and yet always groping for the
doorway, without fervently wishing that Al-Ghazali could have met a
true ambassador of Christ. Then surely this great champion of the Moslem
faith would have become an apostle of Christianity in his own day and
generation. By striving to understand Al-Ghazali we may at least better
fit ourselves to help those who, like him, are earnest seekers after God
amid the twilight shadows of Islam. His life also has a lesson for us all
in its devout Theism and in its call to the practice of the Presence of
God.
S. M. Z.
_Cairo, Egypt._
Contents
I. THE ELEVENTH CENTURY 19
II. BIRTH AND EDUCATION 51
III. TEACHING, CONVERSION, AND RETIREMENT 81
IV. WANDERINGS, LATER YEARS AND DEATH 111
V. HIS CREED AND CREDULITY 145
VI. HIS WRITINGS 169
VII. HIS ETHICS 195
VIII. AL-GHAZALI AS A MYSTIC 219
IX. JESUS CHRIST IN AL-GHAZALI 255
APPENDIX:
A. Bibliography 295
B. Translations of Al-Ghazali’s Works 297
C. List of Al-Ghazali’s Works 299
D. Comparative Table of Events 303
Illustrations
The old ruined Mosque at Tus, Persia, probably dating
from the Eleventh Century _Frontispiece_
The supposed grave of Abu Hamid Al-Ghazali at Tus ”
_Facing page_
The East Gate, Damascus 54
Interior of the Great Mosque at Damascus. In the center
the _Mihrab_ showing the direction of prayer and to
the right the Great Pulpit 106
The Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem, as seen from the Lutheran
Church 126
Pen-case of Al-Ghazali, made of brass inlaid with silver,
preserved in the Arab Museum, Cairo 172
A facsimile page of the _Ihya_ (Vol. II, page 180, Cairo Ed.).
It gives a diagram of the prayer _kibla_ and the rules to be
observed in facing it correctly 180
Facsimile title page of the last book Al-Ghazali wrote, entitled
“Minhaj Al-ʾAbidin.” On the margin this Cairo edition gives
another of his celebrated works, “Badayat-al-Hadaya” 232
A _Mihrab_ or prayer-niche made of cedar wood and dating from
the Eleventh Century. (Cairo Museum) 242
I
The Eleventh Century
“Between the civilizations of Christendom and Islam there is
a gulf which no human genius, no concourse of events, can
entirely bridge over. The most celebrated Orientals, whether in
war or policy, in literature or learning, are little more than
names for Europeans.”
—_“The Assemblies of Al-Hariri,” by Thomas Chenery._
“With the time came the man. He was Al-Ghazali, the greatest,
certainly the most sympathetic figure in the history of Islam,
and the only teacher of the after generations ever put by a
Muslim on a level with the four great Imams. The equal of
Augustine in philosophical and theological importance. By his
side the Aristotelian philosophers of Islam, Ibn Rushd and
all the rest, seem beggarly compilers and scholiasts. Only
Al-Farabi, and that in virtue of his mysticism, approaches him.
In his own person he took up the life of his time on all its
sides and with it all its problems. He lived through them all
and drew his theology from his experience.”
—_“Muslim Theology, Jurisprudence and
Constitutional Theory,” by D. B. Macdonald._
I
THE ELEVENTH CENTURY
The great characters of history may be compared to mountain peaks that
rise high above the plains and the lower foot-hills and are visible from
great distances because they dominate the landscape. In the historical
study of Islam four names stand out prominently. They are those of
Mohammed himself; of Al-Bokhari, the most celebrated collector of the
Traditions; of Al-Ashʾari, the great dogmatic theologian and the opponent
of rationalism; and of Al-Ghazali, the reformer and mystic. The last
named has left a larger imprint upon the history of Islam than any man
save Mohammed himself. “If there had been a prophet after Mohammed,” said
As-Suyuti, “it would have been Al-Ghazali.”
It is in his life, and more especially in his writings, that I believe
we can see Islam at its best. In trying to escape the dead weight of
Tradition and the formalism of its requirements, Moslems are more and
more finding relief in the way of the mystic. Of all those who have found
a deeper spiritual meaning in the teachings of the Koran and even in the
multitudinous and puerile detail of the Moslem ritual, none can equal
Al-Ghazali. “He was,” says Jamal-ud-Din, “the pivot of existence and the
common pool of refreshing waters for all, the soul of the purest part
of the people of the Faith, and the road for obtaining the satisfaction
of the Merciful.... He became the unique one of his own day and for all
time among the Moslem learned.” “Al-Ghazali,” said another writer, nearly
contemporary, “is an _imam_ by whose name breasts are dilated and souls
revived, in whose literary productions the ink horn exults and the paper
quivers with joy, and at the hearing of whose message voices are hushed
and heads are bowed.”
A celebrated saint, Ahmed As-Sayyed Al-Yamani Az-Zabîdi, also a
contemporary of Al-Ghazali, said, “When I was sitting one day, lo, I
perceived the gates of heaven opened, and a company of blessed angels
descended, having with them a green robe and a precious steed. They stood
by a certain grave and brought forth its tenant and clothed him in the
green robe and set him on the steed and ascended with him from heaven to
heaven, till he passed the seven heavens and rent after them sixty veils,
and I know not whither at last he reached. Then I asked about him, and
was answered, ‘This is the Imam Al-Ghazali.’ That was after his death;
may God Most High have mercy on him!”
Another story is related of him as follows: “In our time there was a man
in Egypt who disliked Al-Ghazali and abused him and slandered him. And he
saw the Prophet (God bless him and give him peace!) in a dream; Abu Bakr
and ʾOmar (may God be well pleased with both of them!) were at his side,
and Al-Ghazali was sitting before him, saying, ‘O Apostle of God, this
man speaks against me!’ Thereupon the Prophet said, ‘Bring the whips!’
So the man was beaten on account of Al-Ghazali. Then the man arose from
sleep, and the marks of the whips remained on his back, and he was wont
to weep and tell the story.”
And should this praise seem oriental and extravagant, we add the words
of Professor Duncan B. Macdonald, who has made a more thorough study of
Al-Ghazali’s life and writings than any other student of Islam:—“What
rigidity of grasp the hand of Islam would have exercised but for
the influence of Al-Ghazali might be hard to tell; he saved it from
scholastic decrepitude, opened before the orthodox Moslem the possibility
of a life hid in God, was persecuted in his life as a heretic, and now
ranks as the greatest doctor of the Moslem Church.”
To understand the importance of Al-Ghazali and of his teaching we must
transport ourselves to the time in which he lived. We cannot understand
a man unless we know his environment. Biography is only a thread in the
vast web of history, in which time is broad as well as long. Al-Ghazali
belongs to the small company of torch bearers in the Dark Ages.
He was born at Tus, in Khorasan, Persia, in the year 1058 A. D., and died
in 1111 A. D. When Al-Ghazali was born Togrul Bey had just taken Bagdad,
Henry IV was Emperor, Nicholas II was Pope, the Norman conquest had just
begun in the west, and Asia Minor was overrun by the Turks in the Near
East. Among Al-Ghazali’s other contemporaries in the west were Hildebrand
the Pope, Abelard, Bernard, Anselm, and Peter the Hermit. About the time
he wrote his greatest work, Godfrey of Bouillon was King of Jerusalem.
Al-Ghazali was struggling with the problem of Islam in its relation to
the human heart thirsting for God, about two hundred years after Al-Kindi
had written his remarkable apology for the Christian faith at the court
of Haroun-ar-Rashîd and two hundred years before Raymond Lull laid down
his life a martyr in North Africa.
The condition of the Moslem world had utterly changed since the days when
Busrah with its rival city Kufa were dominated by the victorious Arabs
of Omar’s Caliphate. The Abbasside Caliphs of the eleventh century were
almost as much the shadows of former power as the Emperors of the East;
they retained little more than their religious supremacy. Togrul Bey, the
grandson of Seljuk, had been confirmed by the powerless Caliph Al-Qaʾim
bi-amr Allah, in all his conquests, loaded with honours, saluted as King
of the East and West, and endowed with the hand of the Caliph’s daughter.
In the next reign, that of Al-Muqtadi, the Seljuk Turks captured
Jerusalem.
“About the year 1000,” says Nöldeke,[1] “Islam was in a very bad way. The
Abbasside Caliphate had long ceased to be of any importance, the power
of the Arabs had long ago been broken. There was a multitude of Islamite
States, great and small; but even the most powerful of these, that of the
Fatimids, was very far from being able to give solidity to the whole,
especially as it was Shiʾite.... These nomads (the Turks) caused dreadful
devastation, trampled to the ground the flourishing civilization of
vast territories, and contributed almost nothing to the culture of the
human race; but they mightily strengthened the religion of Mohammed. The
rude Turks took up with zeal the faith which was just within reach of
their intellectual powers, and they became its true, often fanatical,
champions against the outside world. They founded the powerful empire of
the Seljuks, and conquered new regions for Islam in the northwest. After
the downfall of the Seljuk empire they still continued to be the ruling
people in all its older portions. Had not the warlike character of Islam
been revived by the Turks, the Crusaders perhaps might have had some
prospect of more enduring success.”
Togrul Bey was invested with the title of Sultan in the royal city of
Nishapur, A. D. 1038. According to Gibbon, he was the “father of his
soldiers and of his people. By a firm and equal administration Persia was
relieved from the evils of anarchy; and the same hands which had been
imbrued in blood became the guardians of justice and the public peace.
The more rustic, perhaps the wisest, portion of the Turkmans continued
to dwell in the tents of their ancestors; and, from the Oxus to the
Euphrates, these military colonies were protected and propagated by their
native princes. But the Turks of the court and city were refined by
business and softened by pleasure: they imitated the dress, language, and
manners of Persia; and the royal palaces of Nishapur and Rei displayed
the order and magnificence of a great monarchy. The most deserving of the
Arabians and Persians were promoted to the honours of the state; and the
whole body of the Turkish nation embraced with fervour and sincerity the
religion of Mahomet.”[2]
The first of the great Seljuk Sultans was conspicuous by his zeal for
the Moslem faith. He spent much time in prayer, and in every city which
he conquered built new mosques. By force of arms he delivered the Caliph
of Bagdad at the head of an irresistible force and taught the people of
Mosul and Bagdad the lesson of obedience. Rescued from his enemies, the
alliance between the Caliph and the Sultan was cemented by the marriage
of Togrul’s sister with the successor of the Prophet. In 1063 Togrul
died and his nephew Alp Arslan succeeded him. His name, therefore, was
pronounced after that of the Caliph in public prayer by all the Moslems
of the Near East.
The character of his rule Gibbon gives us in a sentence: “The myriads of
Turkish horse overspread a frontier of 600 miles from Taurus to Erzeroum,
and the blood of 136,000 Christians was a grateful sacrifice to the
Arabian prophet.” The “valiant lion,” for that is the significance of
his name, displayed at once the fierceness and generosity of a typical
Oriental ruler. Christians suffered dreadful persecution. Enemies were
assassinated; but the learned, the rich, and the favoured were lavishly
rewarded. Arslan was a valiant warrior of the faith and as eager for the
battlefield as those whom Moore describes:—
“One of that saintly murderous brood
To carnage and the Koran given,
Who think through unbeliever’s blood
Lies their directest path to heaven.
One who will pause and kneel unshod
In the warm blood his hand hath poured
To mutter o’er some text of God
Engraven on his reeking sword.”
Armenia was laid waste in the cruelest manner when the capital was taken
on June 6, 1064. We are told that “human blood flowed in torrents, and
so great was the carnage, that the streets were literally choked up with
dead bodies; and the waters of the river were reddened from the quantity
of bloody corpses.” The wealthy inhabitants were tortured, the churches
pillaged, and the priests flayed alive. Al-Ghazali was then six years old.
In 1072 Alp Arslan was assassinated. His eldest son, Malek Shah,
succeeded him. He extended the conquests of his father beyond the Oxus
as far as Bokhara and Samarkand, until his name was inserted on the
coins and in the prayers of the Tartar kingdom on the borders of China.
“From the Chinese frontiers, he stretched his immediate jurisdiction or
feudatory sway to the west and south, as far as the mountains of Georgia,
the neighbourhood of Constantinople, the holy city of Jerusalem, and the
spicy groves of Arabia Felix. Instead of resigning himself to the luxury
of the harem, the shepherd king, both in peace and war, was in action in
the field.”
Nizam Al-Mulk was his vizier, and it is largely due to his influence that
the study of science and literature revived to such a remarkable degree.
The calendar was reformed, schools and colleges erected, and the learned
competed with each other for the favour of royalty. For thirty years
Nizam Al-Mulk was honoured by the Caliph as the very oracle of religion
and science. But at the age of ninety-three, the venerable statesman, to
whom, as we shall see later, Al-Ghazali owed so much, was dismissed by
his master, accused by his enemies, and murdered by a fanatic. The last
words of Nizam attested his innocence, and the remainder of Malek’s life
was short and inglorious.
The Arabic language had become dominant everywhere. Its vocabulary had
leavened the whole lump of languages in the Near East. Every race with
which the Arabs came in contact was more or less Arabized. “The extent
of this influence,” says Chenery,[3] “may be perceived by comparing the
Persian of Firdausi with that of Saʾdi. The language of the former,
who flourished in the early part of our eleventh century, is tolerably
pure, while the Gulistan, which was produced some two hundred and fifty
years later, is in some places little more than a piecing together of
Arabic words with a cement of the original tongue. It is to be noticed,
also, that the latter author introduces continually Arabic verses, as
the highest ornaments of his work, and assumes that his readers are
acquainted with this classic and sacred tongue.”
Trade routes extended everywhere. There was intercourse with India and
China on the east, as well as with the Spice Islands, so called, of
Malaysia. Caravans carried trade across the whole of Central Asia and
Northern Arabia to the emporiums of the West. Spain had intercourse with
Persia. Al-Hariri praises Busrah “as the spot where the ship and the
camel meet, the sea fish and the lizard, the camel-leader and the sailor,
the fisher and the tiller.” In other words it was the port and emporium
for all the lands watered by the Euphrates and Tigris. The same was true
of Alexandria for the West.
We have evidences that an extensive trade was carried on between Arabia
and China in walrus and ivory. An extensive work exists written in
Chinese in the twelfth century on trade with the Arabs of which a recent
translation has been published at Petrograd. More remarkable still is the
fact that in Scandinavia thousands of Kufic coins have been found, nearly
all of which date from the eleventh century. This would indicate that
even this remote part of Europe was in touch with the Near East.[4]
Judging from literature and history, it was a time of looseness of morals
and of divorce between religion and ethics, even more startling than
in the world of Islam to-day. There were those who wrote commentaries
on the marvels of the Koran, like Al-Harawi, yet did not scruple to
indulge in private wine-drinking and carousals and loose conversation.
The place of wine, women, and song, not only in popular literature and
poetry, but even in the table talk of theologians and philosophers is
clear evidence. Huart remarks in regard to the celebrated “Book of the
Monasteries,” which is an anthology of the convents of the Near East:
“We must not forget that, when Moslems went to Christian cloisters,
it was not to seek devotional impulses, but simply for the sake of an
opportunity of drinking wine, the use of which was forbidden in the
Mohammedan towns. The poets, out of gratitude, sang the praises of the
blessed spots where they had enjoyed the delights of intoxication.” Those
who dared to preach and write against this public immorality had to
suffer the consequences; and because hypocrites were in power reformers
were not heeded.
We read of Ibn Hamdun (1101-1167), that when he openly attacked the
evils which he saw around him in Bagdad, he was dismissed from his
public office as secretary of state, cast into prison, and left to die.
Punishments were cruel. Amputations for theft, in accordance with the
Koran legislation, were matters of such every-day occurrence that the
maimed man was always a suspect. We read of Al-Zamakhshari, that one of
his feet had been frost-bitten during a winter storm, necessitating an
amputation, and so he went about with a wooden leg, but he also carried
about with him a written testimony of witnesses to prove that he had been
maimed by accident, and not in punishment for a crime.
Al-Baihaki, the chronicler of the court at Bagdad, shows us that the
zeal for the faith was often accompanied by a reckless disregard for
the law of Islam as regards the use of fermented liquor. Not only the
soldiers and their officers had drunken brawls, but the Sultan Masʾud
used to enjoy regular bouts in which he frequently saw his fellow topers
“under the table.” Here is a scene represented as having taken place at
Ghazni, the capital of Khorasan province. “Fifty goblets and flagons of
wine were brought from the pavilion into the garden, and the cups began
to go round. ‘Fair measure,’ said the amir, ‘and equal cups—let us drink
fair.’ They grew merry and the minstrels sang. One of the courtiers had
finished five tankards—each held nearly a pint of wine—but the sixth
confused him, the seventh bereft him of his senses, and at the eighth he
was consigned to his servants. The doctor was carried off at his fifth
cup; Khalil Dawud managed ten, Siyabiruz nine, and then they were taken
home; everybody rolled or was rolled away, till only the Sultan and the
Khwaja Abd-ar-Razzak remained. The Khwaja finished eighteen goblets and
then rose, saying, ‘If your slave has any more he will lose both his
wits and his respect for your Majesty.’ Masʾud went on alone, and after
he had drunk twenty-seven full cups, he too arose, called for water and
prayer-carpet, washed, and recited the belated noon and sunset prayers
together as soberly as if he had not tasted a drop; then mounted his
elephant and rode to the palace.”[5]
Masʾud was put to death in 1040. His sons and descendants for more than
a century ruled this part of the Moslem world. But Ghazni fell from the
proud position of the capital of a kingdom to a mere dependency of the
Empire of Malek Shah.
The eleventh century was a period when the nations of Western Europe
were beginning to crystallize both as regards their governments and
civilization. Their influence was felt at home and abroad, although
the masses were still in the depths of barbarism. Among the clergy and
nobility something of order and civilization, and social development
had appeared, but we are told by one writer that it was a striking
characteristic of the time to find side by side with barbarian violence
and disorder, and the constant display of the most brutal passions,
a strong religious feeling. This feeling often took the form of
superstition and fanaticism, the performance of meritorious works,
especially a pilgrimage to the holy sepulcher. Thousands risked their
life and health, and spent all their fortune to reach the holy city, with
the same devotion and sacrifice which we still witness among the ardent
Russian pilgrims of to-day.
When Asia Minor and Syria were conquered by the Turks this access to
Jerusalem was cut off. In 1076 (Al-Ghazali was then eighteen years
old) they massacred three thousand of these Christian people and their
subsequent rule was relentless in its tyranny. We read that “the
venerable Patriarch was dragged by the hair along the streets, and cast
into a dungeon; the clergy of every sect were insulted; and the unhappy
pilgrims were made to suffer every indignity and abuse.”
This treatment of Christian pilgrims produced a storm of indignation and
anger throughout the West. Peter the Hermit himself visited Jerusalem
and returned to Europe to arouse the nations. The result was the first
Crusade, in which Pope Urban II coöperated. Three hundred thousand
half-armed, half-naked peasants forced their way across Europe along the
Rhine and the Danube. Only one-third of their number reached the shores
of Asia. There they were utterly destroyed and only a pyramid of bones
remained to tell of their fate.
The Crusade under Godfrey of Bouillon was a well-appointed military
expedition embracing the flower of Europe. There are said to have been
mustered in the plains of Bithynia one hundred thousand horsemen in
full armour and six hundred thousand footmen. These numbers may be
exaggerated, and pestilence and famine thinned their ranks, but in less
than three years they had attained the great object of their expedition.
In 1097 they laid siege to Nicea and captured it. They advanced against
Antioch and after seven weary months laid siege to the city. In 1099
they advanced on Jerusalem and after a siege of forty days the holy city
surrendered. “The merciless Franks did not fail to inflict a terrible
vengeance for their own sufferings and the indignities which had been
heaped upon their religion and their race. The Jews were burned in their
synagogues; and seventy thousand Moslems were put to the sword. For three
days the city was given up to indiscriminate pillage and massacre, until
a pestilence was bred by the putrefaction of the slain.”
Soon Godfrey and his successors extended their dominions until only four
cities, Aleppo, Damascus, Hamath, and Hums remained in the possession of
the Moslems in Syria. Everywhere the followers of the Prophet were filled
with grief and shame and with a great longing to wipe away the disgrace
which had fallen on their religion.
“In the year 492 A. H.,” says Muir,[6] “consternation was spread
throughout the land by the capture of Jerusalem, and cruel treatment of
its inhabitants. Preachers went about proclaiming the sad story, kindling
revenge, and rousing men to recover from infidel hands the Mosque of
Omar, and scene of the Prophet’s heavenly flight. But whatever the
success elsewhere, the mission failed in the East, which was occupied
with its own troubles, and moreover cared little for the Holy Land,
dominated as it then was by the Fatimide faith. Crowds of exiles, driven
for refuge to Bagdad, and joined there by the populace, cried out for
war against the Franks. But neither Sultan nor Caliph had ears to hear.
For two Fridays the insurgents, with this cry, stormed the Great Mosque,
broke the pulpit and throne of the Caliph in pieces, and shouted down the
service; but that was all. No army went.”
Among Moslems themselves religious rancour abounded. At present the four
orthodox sects worship together and live in peace as neighbours, but in
those days there were frequent and hot disputes between the rival schools
and much controversial literature arose, so that the hatred between the
sects was deep and bitter. The Persian historian, Mirkhond, has recorded
a fact which shows how implacable the feeling had become towards the
close of the Caliphate. When the Mongols of Genghiz Khan appeared before
the city of Rei, they found it divided into two factions—the one composed
of Shafiʾites, the other of Hanifites. The former at once entered into
secret negotiations undertaking to deliver up the city at night, on
condition that the Mongols massacred the members of the other sect. The
Mongols, never reluctant to shed blood, gladly accepted these proposals,
and being admitted into the city, slaughtered the Hanifites without mercy.
It was in this atmosphere of mutual hatred, of war and bloodshed, that
Al-Ghazali spent the last years of his life. We may excuse in him much of
what would otherwise seem intolerant and hateful, when we remember how
the passion of war blinds human judgment and makes it impossible to see
any virtue in the invader.
We must not forget that Al-Ghazali came into close touch with Oriental
Christians from his boyhood.[7] Christianity was established in Persia
at the time of the Moslem conquest, and the Nestorian Church withstood
its terrific impact when Zoroastrianism was almost destroyed. The coming
of the Arabs meant to the Christians only a change of masters. The
Nestorians became the _rayah_, “people of protection,” of the Caliphs.
They did not immediately sink into their present deplorable condition.
They still conducted foreign missions and during the entire Abbasside
period remained a very important factor of civilization in the East.
They were permitted to restore their Churches, but not to build new
ones; they were forbidden to bear arms or ride a horse, save in case
of necessity, and they even then had to dismount on meeting a Moslem;
they were subject to the usual poll-tax. Yet the Nestorians were the
most powerful non-Moslem community while the Caliphs reigned at Bagdad
(750-1258), and had a higher tradition of civilization than their
masters. They were used at court as physicians, scribes, and secretaries,
and thus gained great influence, having much freedom in canonical
matters, elected Patriarchs, etc. The Arab scholarship which came to
Spain, and was a great factor in mediæval learning, begins in great part
with the Nestorians of Bagdad. They handed on to their Arab masters the
Greek culture which was inherited in Syriac translations. So we find
the Caliphs treating them as chief of the Christian communities, and at
times civil authority over all Christians had been given to the Nestorian
Patriarch.
Early in the eleventh century Al-Biruni, a Moslem writer from Khiva,
mentions the Nestorians as the most civilized of the Christian
communities under the Caliph. He says that there are three sects of
Christians—Melchites, Nestorians and Jacobites. “The most numerous
of them are the Melchites and Nestorians; because Greece and the
adjacent countries are all inhabited by Melchites, whilst the majority
of the inhabitants of Syria, Irak and Mesopotamia and Khorasan are
Nestorians.”[8]
Al-Ghazali spent his first twenty years in Khorasan. Did he ever become
acquainted with Christianity through perusal of the Gospel? We know that
Arabic, if not Persian, translations existed at this period; and not only
are there many references to Christ and His teaching in Al-Ghazali’s
works, but there are some very few passages accurate enough to be called
quotations. He himself states as we shall see later: “I have read in the
Gospel.”
That there were translations of the Bible into Arabic to which Al-Ghazali
may have had access is probable. Dr. Kilgour tells of Arabic Gospel
manuscripts of the ninth century and of translations of the Old Testament
and portions of the New made in the Fayyoum before 942 A. D. “To the
tenth century belong versions of some books of the Old Testament from
Syriac, others from the LXX., and from the Coptic; and some fresh
translations of the Pentateuch, using the Samaritan text as well as the
Massoretic.”[9]
Diglot manuscripts in Syriac and Arabic are quite numerous. The
manuscript of the four Gospels, of which a few leaves are now in the
British Museum, is a good specimen of such a diglot. It was brought by
Tischendorf from the Syrian Convent of St. Mary Deipara in the Nitrian
Desert. In the early part of the eleventh century an Arabic scholar
made a version of Tatian’s Diatessaron, that early Syriac Harmony of
the Gospels which helped the Christian Church to realize the main facts
concerning our Saviour. A version of the Psalms was prepared in the
middle of the same century for use in the Church services of the papal or
Melchite Greeks. This was translated from the Greek Psalter, and, from
the place where it was first printed, became known afterwards as the
Aleppo Psalter.[10] It remains an interesting question whether Al-Ghazali
in his travels, or while still in Khorasan, ever examined the New
Testament.
We are told that the Jews translated their law into Persian by 827 A. D.
It is, therefore, hard to acquit the Christians of Persia of negligence.
Their bishops found time to write learned treatises in Persian and
Arabic, and even to translate Aristotle, but not to give Moslems the
Scriptures. Yet Al-Kindi and others like him, many of whose names and
writings are lost, were not afraid to give their testimony even at the
court of the Caliphs. “The Church,” says W. T. Whiteley,[11] “had not
failed to exercise an influence on Islam around it, while Christians
might not, on peril of death, seek to win converts direct, a command
occasionally violated with honour and success, yet all the development of
Islam at Damascus and Bagdad was in a Christian atmosphere.”
The Christianity of that period was, however, not the religion of Christ
in its purity nor after the example of His love and toleration. Mutual
hatred and suspicion prevented real intercourse of those who, as devout
Christians and devout Moslems, were both seeking God. The Moslem was
feared and the Christian despised. The followers of Jesus were the
enemies of Allah in the eyes of Moslems.
How Christians were regarded at this time we may learn from the books of
canon law of this period, and that immediately following upon it. They
were considered _infidels_ in the Moslem sense of the word, and were
protected only by the payment of a poll tax, which gave them certain
rights as subjects. The most distinguished jurist of the Shafiʾite
sect, An-Nawawi, who taught at Damascus in 1267, lays down the law[12]
as follows: “An infidel who has to pay his poll tax should be treated
by the tax collector with disdain; the collector remaining seated and
the infidel standing before him, the head bent and the body bowed. The
infidel should personally place the money in the balance, while the
collector holds him by the beard and strikes him upon both cheeks.
Infidels should be forbidden to have houses higher than those of their
Moslem neighbours, or even to have them as high; a rule, however, that
does not apply to the infidels who inhabit a separate quarter. An infidel
subject of our Sovereign may not ride a horse; but a donkey or a mule
is permitted him, whatever may be its value. He must use an _ikaf_, and
wooden spurs, those of iron being forbidden him, as well as a saddle.
He must go to the side of the road to let a Moslem pass. He must not
be treated as a person of importance, nor given the first place at a
gathering. He should be distinguished by a suit of coloured cloth and
a girdle outside his clothes. If he enters a bathing house where there
are Moslems, or if he undresses anywhere else in their presence, the
infidel should wear round his neck an iron or leaden necklace, or some
other mark of servitude.[13] He is forbidden to offend Moslems, either by
making them hear his false doctrines, or by speaking aloud of Esdras or
of the Messiah, or by ostentatiously drinking wine or eating pork. And
infidels are forbidden to sound the bells of their churches or of their
synagogues, or celebrate ostentatiously their sacrilegious rites.”[14]
“The history of Christian communities,” says Margoliouth,[15] “under
Moslem rule cannot be adequately written; the members of those
communities had no opportunity of describing their condition safely, and
the Moslems naturally devote little space to their concerns. Generally
speaking, they seem to have been regarded as certain old Greek and Roman
sages regarded women: as a necessary annoyance. Owing to their being
unarmed their prosperity was always hazardous; and though it is true that
this was the case with all the subjects of a despotic state under an
irresponsible ruler, the non-Moslem population was at the mercy of the
mob as well as of the sovereign; they were likely scapegoats whenever
there was distress, and even in the best governed countries periods of
distress frequently arose.”
There are darker shades in the treatment of Christians and in the moral
condition of this period over which one might well draw the veil,
but some of the chapters of Ghazali’s _Ihya_ reflect such terrible
conditions as Margoliouth describes: “A form of passion which is nameless
would appear at one time to have been as familiar among Moslems as of
old among Hellenes. Christian lads seem often to have been the unhappy
objects of this passion. A story is told us by the biographer Yakut of a
young monk of Edessa or Urfah who had the misfortune to attract the fancy
of one Saʾad the copyist. The visits and attentions of this Moslem became
so offensive that the monks had to put a stop to them. Thereupon this
personage pined away, and was finally found dead outside the monastery
wall. The Moslem population declared that the monks had killed him,
and the governor proposed to execute and burn the young monk who had
occasioned the disaster, and scourge his colleagues. They finally got off
by paying a sum of 100,000 dirhems.”
Not only among Moslems, however, but among Christians as well, morals
were at a low ebb in the eleventh century. One of the annalists of the
Roman Church says it was an iron age barren of all goodness, a leaden age
abounding in all wickedness. “Christ was then, as it appears, in a very
deep sleep, when the ship was covered with waves; and what seemed worse,
when the Lord was thus asleep, there were no disciples, who by their
cries might awaken him, being themselves all fast asleep.”
Enemies of the Papacy have perhaps exaggerated the vices and crimes
of the popes in this and the preceding century; but the Church, on the
testimony of its own writers, was immersed in profaneness, sensuality,
and lewdness. When Otho I, Emperor of Germany, came to Rome, he
introduced moral reforms by the power of the sword, but according
to Milner,[16] “The effect of Otho’s regulations was that the popes
exchanged the vices of the rake and the debauchee for those of the
ambitious politician and the hypocrite; and gradually recovered, by a
prudent conduct, the domineering ascendency, which had been lost by
vicious excesses. But this did not begin to take place till the latter
end of the eleventh century.”
Missionary effort in this century was confined to work in Hungary, the
unevangelized portions of Denmark, Poland, and Prussia. Adam of Bremen,
who wrote in 1080, says: “Look at the very ferocious nation of the
Danes. For a long time they have been accustomed, in the praises of
God, to resound Alleluia. Look at that piratical people. They are now
content with the fruits of their own country. Look at that horrid region,
formerly altogether inaccessible on account of idolatry; they now eagerly
admit the preachers of the word.”
The Prussians continued pagans in a great measure throughout this
century. We read that eighteen missionaries sent out to labour among them
were massacred. They seemed to have been among the last of the European
nations to submit to the yoke of Christ.
The noblest figure of the century in the West, in the annals of
Christendom, was undoubtedly that of Anselm. He was born about the
time of Al-Ghazali, and died in 1109. His life in many respects is a
parallel to that of his contemporary. Both were theologians and both
were mystics, seeking rest for their souls in withdrawing from the world
and its allurements. Both were apologists for the Faith and opponents
of infidelity and philosophy. Both exerted an immense influence by
their writings as well as through teaching; and if Al-Ghazali sought
the revival of religious life in Islam through his _Ihya_, Anselm gave
employment to his active mind in writing his celebrated treatise “_Cur
Deus Homo?_” Both of them refuted philosophers in their effort to
establish the Faith.
It is interesting to note in this connection that Anselm’s famous book
is now used in Arabic translation by missionaries to Moslems, and that
Al-Ghazali’s “Confessions” have been put into the hands of the English
reader as a testimony of his sincerity and devotion.
Both Anselm and Al-Ghazali lived and wrote under a deep consciousness of
the world to come, the terrors of the judgment day, and the doom of the
wicked. This also was characteristic of the times.
To understand the time in which Al-Ghazali lived we must also remember
that it was one of great literary activity under the Abbasside Caliphs of
Bagdad and the Seljuk sultans. We have seen how rulers rewarded literary
genius, established schools, and furthered education on religious lines.
Arabic literature affords a galaxy of names during the latter half of the
eleventh century in almost every department of Moslem learning.