The Americanization of Sufism

There are two aspects to this post, the first (as usual) a bit on the cynical side, the other a different perspective.

I've written on the Americanization of Rumi in several other posts. This is when Rumi is ripped from his Islamic context and promoted as the poet of love which thus sanitizes him and leaves open his poetry to any version of love we bring to it.

One of my favorite movies is Baraka. However, as I've gotten a little older and a little wiser and realize that every movie (and song and book and news report, etc.) is selling a point of view, I have seen through much of the propaganda of this film as well. If you're interested you can read some earlier posts on the subject.

There is a scene in Baraka featuring the whirling dervishes (the Melevi Order of Sufism founded by the followers of Rumi) so familiar to many a student of religion. It's a beautiful scene:

However, in reality, here is what it looks like:

Notice the folks in the background.

I have an old VHS tape of mystical Iran and it shows another side of Sufism, this one of dervishes in Kurdistan.

It's a powerful scene but certainly isn't one that your average Western tourist gets to see.  Don't see this one in too many Sufi/Rumi books.  This too is mild compared to some of the deeper aspects of their tradition:

This is not a critique in any way, shape or form of those participants in the ritual. I cannot speak for them nor can I judge their frame of mind and depth of experience. That isn't the point of the post.

My wife was moved by the intensity of the participants in the second video shown above.  She appreciated the cultural difference.

Not that I don't (which is why I have the tape in the first place) but there is something destructive in the "prettification" of everything (video one) that is somehow 'other' to traditional American culture. Too often beauty is shallow.

However, rather than appreciating the differences, there is a tendency to ignore those things we don't like (video two and three) and mix it into a homogeneous soup that offends no one. Too often those things that offend are demonized.

Religion without offense is neutered (and I need to work on my cynicism...).

European scholars and "mystical" Islam...

I've really been reading deeply into Henry Corbin's works now for a number of years.  I find his views of mystical Islam as found in Shi'ite/Isma'ili "gnosis" very curious and very spiritually enlightening.

I've read the works of many other scholars who fall under the Traditionalist/Perennilaist banner, the majority of whom are of European descent.  Some became Muslims, usually in an attenuated version, others did not but found their work to enrich their own spiritual life (usually, in some fashion or other, Christian).

I recently stumbled across a recent book called Pathways to an Inner Islam by Patrick Laude which focuses on Massignon, Corbin, Guenon and Schuon, names which should all be familiar to anyone dealing with a more "mystical" Islam.

While the book is dense and difficult in places, especially if unfamiliar with the works of the authors, it draws out some essentials necessary to putting the authors' understanding of Islam in proper perspective.  Of all the authors focused on it is Corbin with whom I am most familiar.  I've read some Schuon and Guenon but very little Massignon, though he's on the list.

There was a little nugget, however, that gave me that 'aha!' moment about Corbin's works.  Lately I've been feeling that, in many ways, the Christianity in much of the modern church often falls in line with the alternate Christianity he points out ultimately manifested in the particular form of Shi'ite mysticism found in Isma'ilism. 

In the modern church (i.e. in charismatic/Pentecostal circles) the "Trinity" is paid lip service but the deeper theological underpinnings are often missing and "Jesus is God" is all that is taken from it.  You may find various books on spelling out the Trinity but usually it comes down to quotes from the Bible and maybe even the Church Fathers (often out of context) as if proof texts mean something in and of themselves.  Such is the nature of the worship of the book post scientific revolution.

But this has led to a distorted or disregarded view of what Jesus means in light of the Trinity.  The Incarnation is watered down and the "God Man" starts to sound like some kind of superhero.  In this, I understand Corbin's desire though, I admit, most of my nourishment on the Trinity came through reading Orthodox theology. 

According to Laude, Corbin considered himself a "Protestant" or "Evangelical" Christian.  I'm not quite sure what this means exactly but if you read Corbin's works you realize that he is not your traditional Christian.  He gravitates to a more "personalized" Christianity which he, in this case, found in his studies of Islam.  His view tends to be that the trajectory from the Christian gnosis that was shunned by the institutional church did not disappear but ultimately manifested in Shi'ite/Isma'ili mysticism. 

The "True Prophet" is not the human prophet, as such, but is that particular essence that seeks his "place of repose".  It is this essence that is understood in the saying attributed to Muhammad: "I was a Prophet while Adam was between water and clay."  In many ways, this bears a striking parallel to Jesus' statement that "Before Abraham was, I am." While traditionally understood to refer to his pre-existence, it can also be understand that the "I" is paralle to the idea of the "True Prophet" which found his place of repose in the person of Jesus.

Laude contrasts view of Massignon that Islam is lacking and incomplete to that of Corbin who shares a different view:

"While the incompleteness of the Prophet is reflected, according to Massignon, in the incompleteness of Islam, this incompleteness - or rather the incompleteness of prophethood as such, does not result, for Corbin, in any sense of lack in the spiritual economy of Islam taken as a whole.  For Henry Corbin, the incompleteness of prophethood is confined to the domain of Sunni Islam, but brought to a resolution in the context of Shi'ism." (p. 76)

While Massignon certainly respects Islam and owes a great deal of his spiritual certitude to the study of it, ultimately he finds it lacking in light of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity and Christianity's essence of love.  For Corbin, however, there is no such judgment of Islam as a whole.

Much like Corbin takes issue with the institutional Christian church, so too does he take issue with the Sunni "institutional" encapsulation of Islam.  Corbin sought spiritual freedom and could not find it within traditional Christianity and, through his study of an Islam outside of the "institution" he sought to free up the spirituality found in Islam and, by so doing, freeing himself from the fetters of a "confined" Christianity.

Another quote from the book explains this in some detail:

"What had to be 'imported' by Massignon into Islam through the mediation, or rather the substitution, of a Christic, if not Christian, apotropaism, beside the Prophetic mission...was to be found by Corbin in a Shi'ite imamology that completes the prophetology...without...implying...a...deficiency of the Islamic tradition itself...nor narrowing the scope of the Prophet himself..." (p. 86)

The apotropaism (I had to look it up...) is a sort of ritual or magical charm to ward of evil.  Interesting choice of words.

The point of this, and the reason for my continued interested, is that Christians (and, perhaps, Muslims) today are seeking similar things.  Tired of the confines of dogma and the drudgery of theological minutiae, people want something personal, unmediated, unfiltered and untainted.  God, no chaser.

While there is certainly no substitute for reading the actual works of the authors, Laude has shown himself to be an excellent guide to their backgrounds.  I look forwad to digging further into the book.  May be one for the shelves.

Baraka: The Other Soundtrack

This was originally posted at another blog of mine that was recently deleted by Google.

The film Baraka is easily in my top five films. My journey (though a bit longwinded) of discovery with it, if you’re interested, can be found here.

The novelty and naïveté has worn off but this film always take me back to that original burst of spiritual awareness that burst forth that year.

Anyhow, if you’ve watched the film and listened to the soundtrack you’ll notice immediately that the soundtrack is sorely lacking.

These are songs not included on the soundtrack and extended versions of some of the tracks from the soundtrack.

Add these songs to the soundtrack and you’re close to the soundtrack as it’s meant to be. You can find a straight audio rip of the DVD here.

The only thing not included here, and unavailable outside of the tidbits found on the soundtrack, would be the score by Michael Stearns (with an uncredited appearance by Lisa Gerrard during the scoring of one of the film scenes).

The Blu-Ray is available and it is, hands down, one of the best - if not the best - Blu Ray discs I've ever seen.  I've seen this on the big screen (though I can't say it was in its original 70mm format or not...was kind of stoned at the time...) and have seen it on video and DVD.  But the Blu-Ray...don't wait and don't settle for a bootleg from the web.
Part1//Part2

Seattle 1994 Baraka and the World of Illusion

I am listening to the soundtrack for the film Baraka as ripped from the DVD (seems this is heading for obsolence as the Blu-Ray is said to be astonishing...).

In 1994 I was living in Seattle, having found myself there after several months on the road after quitting a "real" job and hitting the road (fueled by confusion, madness and drug use...). It was quite an experience.

One of the memorable moments in the drug-fueled period of my life was the opportunity to see the film Baraka in all it glory on the big screen. I doubt it was in the original 70 mm Todd-AO format though it may have been. All I know is that I was stoned when I went to see it and was mesmerized. In the midst of a spiritual crisis/catharis, the subject matter of the film was right on point. It was where I was at the time; it was also where I wanted to be. I sat in a stupor for about an hour and a half as I asborbed the images and sounds of the film. If you've never see it, you must see it at least once.

One of the pivotal moments, at the height of my buzz no less, was a scene in a trash dump in India where people are rummaging through the trash while Dead Can Dance's "Host of Seraphim" is playing. I was frozen in time. Never had I been so moved during a film; never had I felt a song so powerfully. It was, for that moment, transcendent. Even now as I listen to the song, it takes me there, a perfect memory capsule of a moment frozen in song.

Now, fifteen years later and a bit more worldly wise, I have found that many of the images in the film are based in settings that would be considered the tourist variety and the film itself is structured to "sell" a point. Though profound and moving it is now fairly obvious. Perhaps maturity and experience has shattered the illusion but it doesn't take away from the original experience for which this was a pivotal moment. This is a risk as we age, that we condemn and become cynical about those things that profoundly altered our worldview. But this film educated me and was instrumental in my desire to see the world in context.

One of the scenes which freaked me out at first was early in the film when a group of men, all seated, perform some kind of a dance in the jungle, all led by an older "shamanic" figure, eyes glazed over in a hypnotic trance, arms in unison as the bodies sway back and forth to the rhythm of the chant. A striking visual.

Years later I would learn that this is a staged performance called Kecak, or Ramayana Monkey Chant, a musical drama performed in Bali that celebrates an ancient Sanskrit epic. While it has its roots in sanghyang, a trance-inducing exorcism dance, it has become a "Westernized" version of the original.

A German painter and musician, Walter Spies, became interested in it during the 1930s and transformed it into a performance piece. Spies worked with Wayan Limbak, a Balinese dancer, and Limbak popularized the dance by traveling throughout the world with Balinese performance groups. These travels helped to make the Kecak known throughout the world.

This transformation is an example of what James Clifford describes as part of the "modern art-culture system" in which, "the West or the central power adopts, transforms, and consumes non-Western or peripheral cultural elements, while making 'art' which was once embedded in the culture as a while, into a separate entity."

Here is a more telling photo:

Sounds familiar...

Americanization

To what extent is education exploitation? Too cynical? Is my desire to keep such cultural elements confined to their historical roots a sign of the same "spirit" of Westernization, an elitist version of creating an exotic "other" for voyeuristic purpose?

Speaking of exploitation, tourism and Sufism, this all reminds me of an article from Hakim Bey, one of my favorite anarchist writers, about Overcoming Tourism...

This film was my first exposure to the music of Dead Can Dance and I would, over time, absorb anything related to their music, discovering many artists on the legendary 4AD label. Even today, it is still some of my favorite music.

However, much of this had to do with the mystique I created around their music. I envisioned some mysterious, mystical, exotic group whose music was angelic, ethereal, transcendent. That wasn't the case but the music of Lisa Gerrard, vocalist for Dead Can Dance, is truly amazing. She is perhaps most known for her work in the film score for Gladiator. Like much of my early spirituality, I chose to believe in a myth of my own making, a self-idealized projection that led to living in a world of illusion I created.

Time, age and maturity can often dampen the original joy of an event but this film changed my worldview and instilled a deeper desire for exploring the religious life. With music from around the world buoyed by a score from Michael Stearn (a favorite of Hearts of Space), it's a gem. The music is incredible though I think the weed enhanced the music to an extent I haven't experienced since.

Actually, the last time I watched the film itself I was tripping on LSD and in one of the early scenes of a mountain, I saw the face of Jesus being molded, melting, out of the mountains, a liquid face morphing and changing but still clearly Jesus.

I don't expect you to see Jesus there but I did, plain as could be. It was a charcoal etched vision of him in Fritz Eichenberg or Gustav Dore style (no halo, though) but it was unmistakable. I wanted to stay in that moment forever. Sadly, the crew I was with wanted to trip to something else and ejected the video.

A soundbyte from this film can be found in Jonathan Lisle's incredible Original OS.0_2 mix on John Digweed's Bedrock label and if you watch closely you'll see stills of the film in The Matrix Reloaded when Neo speaks with The Architect.

It's amazing the things that frame our worldview. Because this film so impacted my life (and, obviously, the lives of others) it has become a way of framing my perception of the world and is thus instantly recognizable when placed in various cultural media, a signpost, common ground among a larger tribe, all on the same journey, like product placement (is that irony or cynicism?).

The CD version of the film was too short and left out a lot of the subtle musical gems from the film as was the case with both Koyaanisqatsi and Powaqqatsi. Certainly these will be on Blu-Ray soon. What a peculiar twist having paid $75 for a used VHS version of this movie off of ebay after it was pulled from the shelves of Blockbuster when it went out of print. I can't help but think that there is something ugly and sinister about the material product of media proliferation.

It looks as if an "upgrade" to the soundtrack to Koyaanisqatsi is forthcoming as well.

My wife and I saw Koyaanisqatsi performed live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with Philip Glass leading his orchestra as part of an effort to fund the finishing touches on the third piece of the trilogy, Naqoyqatsi (or, as my wife calls it, quite prophetically, Not Quite Qatsi). Having heard this live with the film playing on a movie screen in the background was comparable to my viewing of Baraka, though I was sober this time.

Life without drugs and addictions. Being grateful. No regrets. Enjoying the now. To live without illusion. It really is possible.

WALSTIB...

Conference of the Books

Another Saturday night and I'm at work on the overnight shift. It's not as bad as it may seem (after all, look what I'm doing...).

I've been reading Conference of the Books: The Search for Beauty in Islam Khaled M. Abou Fadl. It is a remarkable book. One of the things that drew me to Islam originally was...

I suppose I should digress for a moment. Islam? What does that have to do with anything? Let me backtrack.

In 1996 I was baptized in a Pentecostal Church, the speaking in tongues thing, water baptism, Jesus' name, King James only, the works. How, you might ask? Me, Mr. Noncommittal, don't wish to join anything, don't believe anything, don't participate in anything? I'd say a woman but that isn't the whole picture. It was a woman (now my wife) who I was with that got me to attend church. I was drawn not so much to the beliefs but the commitment to the beliefs. So over the course of many months I found myself fascinated, drawn in originally by the choir and charismatic worship (a far cry from the staid tradition of my Presbyterian upbringing). I wanted to know just what it was that made them sing like that.

I was also drawn to the intellectual spirit of the pastor of the church. I had always figured you had to leave your intellect at the door of the church in order to be a Christian. He helped me to realize that this wasn't so. I got interested in the Bible, picked up a Strong's Concordance and began searching the scriptures.

Acts 2:38 is perhaps the pivotal text in any church that believes in baptism in Jesus' name. This church was no different. So, one Saturday evening, while my girlfriend at the time was not in the picture, I was with a friend and realized I had no Bible to my name. I asked to borrow hers. Upon entering my apartment that evening I flipped it open, as is my ritual, and pointed to Acts 2:38.

So the next morning, in church, by myself, with no support around, what was the text for the message? Acts 2:38. I decided right then and there to be baptized. That was it. No deeper thought than that. So at altar call I rushed forward (apparently before the message was actually over). After some questioning of, I suppose, my sincerity, I was led to the back where I changed into baptism clothes and was ushered into the baptismal pool. After the confession/profession of faith, I was dunked, full immersion, and came out of the water mumbling. Witnesses say I spoke in tongues. It sounded like babble to me. I was now a member (had I not spoke in tongues my membership probably would have been questionable).

So here I was. My girlfriend and her family (a long line of ministers) were thrilled. I was freaked out. What had I done? The trials really began. I began searching the scriptures more and more in depth and realized, over time, that I did not agree with what was being taught. So I began to question. And question. And question. The party was over.

Since no one I knew would have been willing or able to discuss my deep seeded questions, I found an online community at edepot.com. It seems to be primarily a Daoism page now, and a pretty decent one at that, but in 1996 it had a debate forum that was jumping. I still have the printouts from some of these discussions.

I came in with an attitude, like a know-it-all who had it all figured out and was trying to prop myself up as someone who would get deep. Didn't take long for me to realize I was shallow and knew little. Within a week or so I encountered a challenge I was unprepared for. Having harbored doubts about the doctrine I was being taught (Oneness Pentecostalism) I tried to show off my intellectual acumen in breaking down the truth. With one question I was brought to my knees and the doubts I harbored were exposed. One question.

Luke 10:25. The words of Jesus. Eternal life? Love God, love neighbor. Period. That was it plain and simple.

My doubts surfaced. The Oneness doctrine preached from the pulpit frequently referenced the shortcomings of the Trinity doctrine. I discovered that the Oneness doctrine was lacking. I now believed neither one. And I had no intention of becoming a Unitarian or any other label for that matter. All the denominations annoy the mess out of me, reminders of the schismatic nature of any organization.

It turned out that the individual who had been questioning me was a Christian who had converted to Islam. Islam? For as much as I had dabbled in other religions, I knew nothing about Islam. The more I spoke about how I viewed Christian doctrine, the more she said I sounded like a Muslim.

I reasoned and argued and debated and tried all kinds of sophistry but the reality of the matter was that my belief was not Trinitarian, not "Christian", but is really that there is One God (much of this has to do with my epiphany at Yosemite Falls about the oneness of being, Wahdat-ul-Wujud). Not three-in-one, not three manifestations of one essence, etc., all those things Christians argued about for hundreds of years (and still argue about).

The more she questioned and challenged, the more I realized I was in trouble. And so began my inquiry into Islam. Within a few months I would be performing salat in a mosque in Washington D.C., a transformative moment in not only my spiritual path but in my life as a whole.