SUFISM AND THE‘MODERN’ IN ISLAM

Edited byMARTIN VAN BRUINESSEN ANDJULIA DAY HOWELL

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2WHAT IS A SUFI ORDER? REVISITINGTHE CONCEPT THROUGH A CASE STUDY

OF THE KHALWATIYYA INCONTEMPORARY EGYPT

Rachida Chih

In this chapter I present some reflections on theconcept of the tariqa (‘mystical path’, pl. turuq)and on how a tariqa may be expressed socially withinmodern society. I take one local example, that ofthe Khalwatiyya order in contemporary Egypt, as mypoint of departure. I argue that the primaryconception of the tariqa as an association with ahierarchical structure that exercises a degree of

control over its adepts or followers, as reflectedin the common translation as ‘Sufi order’ or‘brotherhood’, is in need of revision. Such aconceptual framing has been the predominant model ofthe tariqa in studies since the 1950s, andpredictions of its gradual but inevitabledisappearance, made by various historians andanthropologists (Arberry, 1950; Geertz, 1968;Gilsenan, 1971; Trimingham, 1971; Gellner, 1981),were based on the perceived incompatibility of thistype of association with modern society. Theemergence of an educated urban middle class thatembraced ideas of progress, individualism anddemocracy appeared to leave little space for theold-fashioned brotherhoods, which were believed toattract only marginalized segments of society withlittle education, low social status or ongoing ruralconnections.

A growing number of empirical studies have shownthat the claims of such students of modernizingMuslim communities in the 1960s and 1970s concerningthe decline of the turuq are no longer tenable.1 Ithas become increasingly evident that the turuq notonly have persisted but actually functionmeaningfully in modern societies, thereby refutingthe view that Sufism, if not religion in general, isincompatible with modernity. However, the authors ofthese more recent empirical studies have also beenconfronted with the difficulty of developing moreappropriate theoretical frameworks for explainingthe nexus of relations between Sufism and modernity.

A number of obstacles hinder the elaboration of newapproaches in research. One of these has been arigid and homogenous conceptualization of tariqa asa ‘brotherhood’. Yet the social expression of thetariqa has, in the course of its passage throughtime and geographical space, from West and NorthAfrica to India and Southeast Asia, been remarkablyflexible. Its forms have been adapted to differentsocial settings and cultural contexts, and no singlerigid model of social organization can do justice tothese forms. Although it may be true that thevarious turuq existing today share a commonsubstrate of ideas and practices, they nonethelesspresent an immense diversity in forms of socialorganization.

Another problem is that scholars have often shown aclear preference for studying those turuq that havea distinct and clear organizational structure and,if possible, accessible archives (witness thestudies by Gilsenan, 1973 and De Jong, 1978). Theless tangible, more informally structured andperhaps less accessible turuq have received lessscholarly attention. Finally, it should be notedthat many studies have privileged those aspects ofthe ‘path’ that are more immediately perceptible,notably the patterns of formal organization to whichit has given rise, at the expense of the spiritualaspects of the ‘path’ or the more fluid socialpatterns associated with it.

I therefore propose to explore another approach to

the study of the tariqa, focussing on the types ofspiritual affiliation between a master and hisdisciples, the forms of social relations betweenthem, and those between companions of a same ‘path’that these affiliations imply.2 I show that, in thecase of the contemporary Egyptian Khalwatiyya, thetariqa is based first on the person of the spiritualmaster (the shaykh), and more precisely on the ideaof his role as heir of the Prophet andrepresentative (khalifa) of God on earth on theesoteric level, and on the interpersonalrelationships that the shaykh establishes with hisdisciples. In accordance with the social project hemay have formed, the shaykh may have recourse tovarious social networks and intermediaries forexpanding his tariqa. The malleable and elasticstructure of the tariqa allows it to adapt to verydifferent social environments. The longevity of theSufi path – and implicitly its relevance inmodernity – owes most to the fact that the tariqa isan individualized and humanized way of establishinga relationship with the Divine. This approach, Ibelieve, enables us to better understand thereligious culture of the Sufis and the spiritual andsocial implications of their practices in modernEgyptian society. What makes the case of theKhalwatiyya especially interesting is that thisorder has been expanding in urban environments whilemaintaining profound roots in the rural districts ofUpper Egypt. It has been spread by learned shaykhs,often graduates of Al-Azhar, and it attracts

disciples from all social circles.

THE KHALWATIYYA IN EGYPT 23

The Khalwatiyya in Egypt: One path, various branches

In spite of the Turco–Persian origins of theKhalwatiyya, Egypt is now its most important centrein the entire Muslim world. For the past twocenturies the Khalwatiyya has been spreading fromCairo to the Delta and all along the Nile valley. Inthe 1980s the Khalwatiyya was the largest of theofficially recognized paths according to the SupremeCouncil of Sufi Orders (the official body thatmonitors the activities of the turuq in Egypt). Atthat time it had 19 distinct branches or sub-orders.The second and third largest turuq were theAhmadiyya and the Shadhiliyya, with 18 branches each(Luizard, 1990). Although one has to be cautiouswith all statistics concerning the turuq (if onlybecause the Council does not take account of theturuq lacking official validation), this placementindicates that the Khalwatiyya is by no means amarginal phenomenon in Egypt’s spiritual andreligious field. The Khalwatiyya owes its positionto the ties that were established with the religiouselite educated at al-Azhar in the eighteenthcentury. Those ties were crucial to its subsequentdiffusion across the whole country.

The Khalwatiyya first arrived in Egypt in the latefifteenth century but initially remained restrictedto Turkish and Persian circles in Cairo (Chih,

1998). It became an Egyptian order properly speakingwith the initiation into the tariqa of the Egyptianshaykh of al-Azhar, Muhammad b. Salim al-Hifni (d.1767), at the hands of the Syrian-born Mustafa Kamalal-Bakri (d. 1749). Al-Hifni’s biography, writtenduring the master’s lifetime by one of his closestdisciples, gives a clear description of thebeginnings of the Khalwatiyya in Egypt (cf. Chih,2000b). It presents the shaykh as a man of action,engaged in the revitalization and propagation of theSufi path on the ground. Nonetheless al-Hifni leftvery few writings behind, devoting himself entirelyto teaching and above all to the training ofnumerous disciples whom he then dispatched all overthe country to spread the tariqa.

With al-Hifni, we also witness the beginning of theclose association of the Khalwatiyya and the al-Azhar elite. From his time as shaykh, affiliationwith the Khalwatiyya became a major factor, if not anecessary condition, for entering the higherechelons of al-Azhar hierarchy. This quasi-corporateidentity of the Khalwatiyya in its connections withal-Azhar has continued until the present day.

The degree of attention given to proselytization hasvaried over the years, depending on the personalityof the shaykh. Al-Hifni, as said, was very active inthis respect. He allowed the rapid expansion toresult in the emergence and functioning of quasi-independent branches of the tariqa, between which hewas the only intermediary.

Al-Hifni’s successor, Ahmad al-Dardir (d. 1786),also devoted much energy to the propagation of thetariqa. He hailed from Upper Egypt, and hisactivities ensured that this region would become themajor seedbed of the order in Egypt. Al-Dardir wasone of relatively few men with a provincialbackground who succeeded in making a brilliantcareer at al-Azhar. Trained in Maliki jurisprudence(fiqh) in his native town of Bani `Adi, he came tooccupy important positions at al-Azhar, includingthat of shaykh of the riwaq or dormitory forstudents from Upper Egypt, administrator of theirpious foundations (awqaf), and Maliki mufti. Thesefunctions made him the most important person at al-Azhar for any student originating from the Nilevalley, and the vast network of Upper Egyptians atal-Azhar served him well in his efforts to spreadthe tariqa. Most of the branches of the Khalwatiyyain Upper Egypt today go back to the shaykh al-Dardir.

The expansion of the tariqa continued during thefollowing century, and Delanoue’s study ofintellectual life in nineteenth century Egypt showsthat persons affiliated with the Khalwatiyyadominated the religious field (Delanoue, 1982).Until recently it was widely assumed that in thelate nineteenth century a turning point was reachedand that the order suffered a gradual butunstoppable decline in the twentieth century as aresult of, on the one hand, modernization andsecularization and, on the other, the rise of

Salafism and Wahhabism (cf. Trimingham, 1971: Ch.IX).

My field research in Upper Egypt, however, has ledto a different conclusion. The Khalwatiyya continuedits expansion there due to the activities of threeSufis, discussed below, who played influential rolesin the course of the second half of the nineteenthand into the first half of the twentieth century.They are the founders of various new branches of theKhalwatiyya that are presently very active in theregion, both as spiritual movements and as welfareassociations. Frederick De Jong earlier made aninventory of the various Khalwatiyya branches activefurther north, in Middle Egypt (De Jong, 1978). Onehas the impression that these various branchestogether form a fine grid overlying the entire Nilevalley. This raises the question about what sort ofrelations exist between these various branches.

The three Sufis on whom my research has focused wereall Khalwatis, but they represent quite differenttypes of spiritual masters (Chih, 2000a). The first,Ahmad Sharqawi (d. 1899), who was active in Jirja inthe province of Suhaj, surrounded himself with anelite group of scholars based in both Cairo andUpper Egypt. However, he did not aim through histeaching to found an institutionalized tariqa andthe chain of transmission (silsila) to which hebelonged became extinct with the death of his solespiritual heir (khalifa). His influence continues,however, because he wrote several books on Sufism

and doctrine, most of which were published andremain in print. These works give the reader someinsight into the mystical path and its future asunderstood by a learned Sufi in the late nineteenthcentury. The other two Sufis, `Abd al-Jawad al-Dumiand Ahmad al-Tayyib al-Hasani, have not leftwritings behind (or no works of importance, at anyrate), but they devoted themselves throughout theirlives for the spiritual training of disciples andthe propagation of the Sufi path.

Al-Dumi (d. 1943), who hailed from Tahta in theprovince of Suhaj, studied at al-Azhar, and aftercompleting his studies established himself as theimam of a mosque in Sabtiyya, a ward of Cairo with alarge community of migrants from Upper Egypt. Hesoon found himself at the centre of a large group ofAzhar students who were Upper Egyptians likehimself. Being Malikis, the Upper Egyptians studiedat al-Azhar under shaykhs of the Maliki school oflaw, and they lived together in the same riwaq(dormitory) at al- Azhar or around the same mosque.Like al-Hifni, al-Dumi used this regional network tospread his tariqa. Many of his closest disciplesmade their careers in mosques or as teachers,inspectors or directors of the various new Azhar-affiliated institutes that were being established inthe provinces. Thanks to their mobility and theirstrategic location in the system of religiouseducation, these disciples were in a position torecruit numerous further disciples both among thefuture ulama and among the `amma (the common folk)

in Cairo as well as in the provinces.

Ahmad al-Tayyib al-Hasani (d. 1955) represents athird category of shaykh. According to oraltradition, al-Hasani established himself, after hisstudies at al-Azhar, in a village near Luxor, wherehe married the daughter of a man locally consideredas a saint. Al-Hasani then became a peripateticteacher of the basic precepts of Islam and of theSufi path, moving from village to village onhorseback. His reputation as a learned and holy manspread like an oil slick and a steady stream ofdisciples, mostly belonging to the peasantry, cameto visit him. The shaykh built a special structurecalled the saha (literally, ‘court’) to receive allthese visitors. After his death, his son, and laterhis grandson continued his religious and socialactivities: a new sacred lineage was born.

These three Sufis have a number of traits in commonwith other masters of the Khalwatiyya. They wereeducated at al-Azhar and their ideal, reflectingtheir educations and expressed in their writings aswell as their disciplining activities, was to leadpeople towards God through Qur’anic instruction.They refrained from extravagant claims concerningsainthood (walaya), divine grace (baraka) andsupernatural powers (karamat). Even though much oftheir teaching in fact revolved around sainthood,they preferred discussing this indirectly throughreferences to the Qur’an and Sunna. To some extent,perhaps, this was to protect themselves against

criticism from circles that were hostile to Sufismand saint worship, but it was just as much fromconviction and training. The learned Khalwatishaykhs, with all their variety, distinguishthemselves quite clearly by their sobriety from theshaykhs of more popular (folk-oriented) turuq suchas the Ahmadiyya and Burhamiyya. The latter orders,often originating from the Delta, are characterizedby a conception of sainthood that openly gives riseto veneration of the master as the bearer of thebaraka of the founding saint.

The three Khalwati shaykhs, in spite of having gonethrough the same process of initiation anddisciplining, had quite different approaches totheir roles as teachers, leading to different modesof mobilization of disciples and different patternsof interaction with society. One chose to transmithis message to a small circle of educated followers,a khassa (elite), whereas the other two wished toreach out to the masses, the `amma – al-Dumi at thenational level and al-Hasani at the local level. Theteaching of these three resulted in not two butthree new branches of the Khalwatiyya. Eachdistinguishes itself from other branches by addingthe name of the founder of the branch to that of themother tariqa. The teaching of Shaykh Ahmad al-Tayyib al-Hasani thus gave rise to the emergence ofthe Khalwatiyya Hasaniyya and that of Shaykh `Abdal-Jawad al-Dumi to two distinct new branches, theKhalwatiyya Dumiyya and the Khalwatiyya DumiyyaRamliyya. The silsila of Shaykh Sharqawi, as noted

above, is extinct so there is no branch named afterhim.

We speak of branches here, implying that they issuedfrom the same trunk, but properly speaking thesebifurcations do not constitute new paths. They sharethe same spiritual heritage and it is only in socialappearance that they differ from, and areindependent of, one another. A single tariqa maythus exist in a variety of social forms one besidethe other, which makes it different from themonastic orders of Christian Europe. Most, if notall, turuq have at most times shown this tendencytowards segmentation and the emergence of autonomoussubdivisions. The Egyptian Khalwatiyya is, from thepoint of view of social organization, not a single,unitary, hierarchical organization with a pyramidalstructure. It has constantly divided itself into newsegments and this is precisely what has helped it topropagate and extend itself all over the country,into various geographical and social environments.The Khalwatiyya is not a network either; itsbranches have no connections with one another and ineach of them the pivot of the path is the shaykh.Each of the branches however can be considered as anetwork in the sense that it consists of allindividuals who interact with the shaykh and witheach other.

Affiliation with the Tariqa

Just as the common translations of tariqa as ‘order’or ‘brotherhood’ may carry unwarranted connotations,

the terms ‘adept’ or ‘member’ do not adequatelyrepresent the forms of spiritual affiliation orinitiatory attachment to a tariqa. In the EgyptianKhalwatiyya, one does not become a member or adeptof a tariqa but one attaches oneself to a master,who transmits the teachings that he has himselfreceived from another master, following aninitiatory chain of transmission (silsila) that goesback to the Prophet. Each branch has its ownsilsila, and the only ritual detail thatdistinguishes the branches from each other is theprayer invoking the spirits of the masters of thepath (al-tawassul bi-rijal al-tariqa) at the end ofthe dhikr session. This minor difference is quitesignificant, however, as the following incidentillustrates. At the end of the dhikr session held bya group of disciples of the Khalwatiyya Dumiyya in atown in the province of Qina, a disciple from adistant town asked the person who acted as theleader in the absence of the master whether he wouldbe allowed to attend the weekly meetings held by theKhalwatiyya Dumiyya Ramliyya in his hometown. Thelatter refused, saying, ‘Those people (i.e. theKhalwatiyya Dumiyya Ramliyya) belong to one mashrab(initiatory tradition going back to the Prophet) andwe to another; they have their own madad (invocationof assistance, protection) or tawassul (prayer forintercession by the masters of the path) and weanother’.

In the Khalwatiyya, there are also different degreesof attachment to a master. One can be the murid

(disciple, pl. muridin) of a shaykh or simply hismuhibb (devotee, pl. muhibbin). At the moment ofaffiliation, a murid, a person who commits himselfto the mystical path, concludes a pact (`ahd) withhis shaykh and submits himself to the master by anoath of allegiance (bay`a). The term `ahd can alsomean ‘contract’, and the term bay`a carries theconnotation of an agreement between buyer andseller, as Denis Gril has explained (Gril, 1996:92). The murid thus submits himself to the shaykhand through him to the Prophet and to God. Theshaykh commits himself in exchange to guiding thedisciple on the path but also to protecting,supporting and helping him. As we see below, for thedisciple the shaykh is a wali (‘friend of God’,saint), meaning a person protected by God, as wellas a protector, a patron and a client.

For the vast majority of the muridin, affiliationwith the tariqa remains restricted to their recitingits litanies and prayers (wird, pl. awrad),participating in the congregational dhikr sessions,and regularly visiting the shaykh. Only those whoshare the life of the shaykh for many years may befurther initiated into the spiritual secrets of thepath and may become the master’s khalifa. The latterare very few: Shaykh Sharqawi had only one khalifa,Shaykh al-Dumi three; and Shaykh al-Tayyibtransmitted the path to a single person, his ownson. These khalifa had a lifelong and intimateattachment to the shaykh. The suhba (companionship)of Shaykh Muhammad al-Tahir with his master `Abd al-

Jawwad al-Dumi lasted for more than 20 years. AsShaykh Muhammad al- Tahir testified himself, thislong friendship was of great influence in theformation of his own religious, spiritual and moralpersonality. He explained during an interview withme, ‘I was constantly together with my shaykh,whether in Cairo or when travelling; I was with himduring the dhikr sessions and in the classes andinterviews that he gave. Through this suhba, theshaykh transmitted his knowledge in Qur’anicexegesis and Sufism’. After the shaykh’s death,Muhammad al-Tahir renewed the pact of allegiance(`ahd) with the Shaykh al-Ramli, whom he was tosucceed as the shaykh of the Khalwatiyya DumiyyaRamliyya.

Unlike the muridin (the disciples), the muhibbin(the devotees) are not connected to the shaykhthough an initiatory link but through a link ofmahabba, love. The muhibbin have not passed throughan initiation to the formulas of the wird because,in their own words, they do not feel capable ofmaking the personal effort that the path demands, orthey are simply not ready to make the effort. (Thisdoes not mean, however, that they might not join inreciting the wird during collective rituals.) Theaffiliation to a tariqa is perceived as a veryserious act that implies a change in behaviour, forthe pact with the shaykh is considered to be a pactconcluded with God. The new disciple is expected tolead henceforth a life in accordance with all thatGod has commanded and to refrain from all He has

forbidden. One person strongly attached to aKhalwati shaykh in Karnak near Luxor claims herefuses formal affiliation out of fear he mightstray from the straight path and thereby betray thecommitment made in the `ahd. A trader in the well-known Cairo market, the Khan al-Khalili, declaredhimself to be a muhibb of Shaykh al-Tayyib, whom hemet on the occasion of a mawlid of Husayn, thegrandson of the Prophet, which was held in hisneighbourhood. Before this encounter, he neverprayed or fasted; it was the shaykh, he explained tome in interview, who had set him on the right path.He had prayed regularly and fasted during Ramadanover the subsequent three years, but he still didnot feel up to taking initiation. For suchdisciples, the shaykh represents a model ofperfection that they are incapable of ever attainingthemselves. The efforts demanded from a practisingmurid are also beyond them; the constraints ofmodern life make it even harder to reach such adegree of proximity to God. The muhibbin expect,however, that their weakness will be forgivenbecause of their attachment to and love of theawliya (pl. of wali).

Neither muhibbin nor muridin see their attachment asbeing first and foremost to a tariqa. The terms theyuse to describe themselves and their relationshipwith the shaykh are quite significant: they do notspeak of themselves as Khalwati but as the children(abna, awlad) of the shaykh, or as his companions(ashab). This practice is not unique for the

Khalwatiyya either. At the saints’ day celebrations(mawlid) that are at the core of popularreligiosity, various turuq erect their own tentswith flags and banners, and the writing on thebanner typically identifies the groups as thechildren or companions of such and such a shaykh,from this or that village, adding only at the endthe name of the tariqa. When one asks Sufis whatdistinguishes them from those who are not Sufis, onereceives answers such as ‘love of the shaykh’(mahabba li-l-shaykh), ‘attachment to the shaykh’(mulazamat al-shaykh), or ‘putting oneself at theshaykh’s service’ (khidmat al-shaykh). Thisrelationship is what the classical Sufi manuals callsuhba, ‘companionship’, and it is modelled on thereciprocal affective relationship between theProphet and his companions. In referring tospiritual fatherhood, to the proximitycharacterizing the relationship of master anddisciple, and to intercession and guidance, as wellas in invoking rules of proper behaviour and respecttowards the master, people are ultimately referringto the example of the Prophet.3

An influential model of Muslim society contrasts theIslam of the saints with the scripturalist Islam ofthe ulama (the jurists). Sufi Islam is cast ashierarchical and the Islam of the ulama as moreegalitarian (Gellner, 1969, 1981). The type ofauthority exercised by a saint allegedly demandsunquestioning allegiance and submission, which wouldexplain why it is supposed to be incompatible with

modernity and particularly with the primacy of theindividual in modern societies. Such a model ignoresthe reciprocal dimension present in the bay`a (asexplained above) and the agency inherent in thechoice of the pious followers. Religious authorityin Islam has in fact always been fluid andfluctuating and has frequently been questioned(Gaborieau and Zeghal, 2004). In the domain ofsainthood, it has usually been the vox populi thathas prevailed (Goldziher 1880).

But what are the criteria for recognizing theauthority of a shaykh, and what is the basis of hislegitimacy in the eyes of the community? A study ofthe connections between Sufism and sainthood wouldexceed the limits of the present chapter, but onemight state briefly that the authority of a shaykhamounts to the application of the various modalitiesof walaya and/or wilaya, concepts translated as‘sainthood’. Important recent studies on the subjecthave noted that in the Qur’an the term walaya refersto proximity but also to command (Chodkiewicz, 1986;Cornell, 1998). For the Sufis, this walaya is theresult of access to an esoteric and inspiredknowledge of God: the shaykh is an `arif bi-llah,one who has knowledge derived from God. Thisknowledge confers on him a form of spiritualauthority that may eventually be converted intosocial authority. Esoterically, the shaykh may beinvested with functions similar to those of thekhalifa, God’s representative an earth. He is anheir to the Prophet, whose behaviour he emulates.

His proximity to God allows him to intercede onbehalf of those who place themselves under hisprotection and come to their support. This is whatEgyptians refer to by the term frequently uttered inthe presence of a living saint or to call upon thespirit of a deceased saint: madad, ‘assistance,protection’. A shaykh’s disciples offer himallegiance in exchange for his madad. It is inrecognition of this reciprocity that the social tiesbetween the disciples and their shaykh and betweencompanions on the path take their shape. There is,however, a wide variety of social arrangements inwhich this reciprocal relationship between masterand disciples can be expressed. Within each branchof the tariqa, the forms of affiliation with theshaykh and the ties between disciples vary accordingto social environment and personality of the master.The following section illustrates this variety bycomparing the functioning of Khalwatiyya branches ina rural and an urban setting.

The Social Setting: Shaykh al-Tayyib and his saha

In his village near Luxor, Shaykh Muhammad MuhammadAhmad al-Tayyib is a popular and influentialpersonality. From his saha (court), he overseesvarious matters concerning the village and itssurroundings. He belongs to the social class oflocal notables, but he is much more than that; he isa shaykh, like his father before him and like hisgrandfather, the first to spread the tariqaKhalwatiyya in the village. Certain anthropologists

have analyzed the hereditary transmission of thebaraka (blessing) as amounting to the routinizationof charisma, as theorized by Max Weber. Theauthority of the shaykh is, in this view, explainedin terms of his management of symbolic capital,which he may turn into material capital, to beredistributed among his faithful followers. There issome confirmation for this view in the fact thatShaykh Muhammad M. Ahmad al-Tayyib’s saha, which wasoriginally constructed to respond to the needs ofthe tariqa, now responds to the needs of the entirevillage community. It is here that the shaykh feedsthe people, arbitrates in conflicts, receivesgovernment officials, and listens to the complaintsof the inhabitants.

However, as explained above, the shaykh is a wali,who needs to be engaged as a party to a bay`a inorder to fulfil the role expected of him. Hisdesignation as a shaykh by a master or not isirrelevant as long as he has not also beendesignated as such by his community, which shows itsrecognition by renewing the pact of allegiance, thustransferring loyalty from the deceased master to thenew shaykh. The three shaykhs of the al-Tayyibfamily have acquired this public recognition due toqualities that were, in the eyes of their followers,different in each case but that made them allnonetheless true holders of walaya. Familybackground, relations with the state and the supportof local networks played crucial parts in thepresent shaykh Muhammad M. Ahmad al-Tayyib’s rise to

religious authority; but for his followers these arethe external signs of his election by God.

Shaykh Muhammad al-Tayyib (d. 1988) received fromhis father, Shaykh Ahmad al-Tayyib, a proper writtenijaza (authorization), which made him bothgenealogically and spiritually his khalifa.Everybody in the region remembers this strongpersonality, who was so different from his father.The latter was, in the memory of the old people ofthe village, a warm and genial personality, close tothe people, accepting their hospitality and happilysharing their meals on his never-ending toursthrough the district to spread the Word. The son,shaykh Muhammad, was a very different type of Sufi.His presence would inspire awe and fear, even whenhe would be sitting, in the way of all spiritualmasters, in the circle of his disciples. Hisbehaviour and his physical appearance reinforcedthis impression. He never spent the night away fromhis saha, always returning home from his visits onthe same day, and he refused the food and gifts thatwere offered to him.

Only one person, his daughter Kulthum, was allowedto prepare his single, sober daily meal, consistingmostly of vegetables and some meat cooked withoutsalt or spices. He drank no tea, coffee, or anyother drink, apart from a glass of aniseed tea inthe evening. Towards the end of his life he reducedhis intake of food to a few spoonfuls of milk. Hisskin became so delicate that he had to cover his

hand with a shawl so that his numerous visitorscould touch him. He spent long periods of retreat ina cell that was connected with the mosque of thesaha by a small door and which he left only toperform his prayers. His physical appearance addedto the fascination: he was entirely dressed inwhite, from his shoes to the scarf that covered hishead. Following the example of the Prophet, he usedperfume and he wound his turban so that a loose tailwould hang down on his neck. People say that heinspired a mixture of respect and fear (hayba,rahba) so that they would lower their eyes in hispresence. ‘When I found myself in the presence ofthe shaykh’, one disciple remembered to me, ‘I wasovercome by a feeling of fear, as if I hadunwittingly done something wrong’.

Anthropologists and sociologists have analyzedsainthood in terms of the ways in which the shaykhconstructs his charisma through his self-representation (e.g., Gilsenan, 1973; Elboudrari,1985; Touati, 1989). Even where succession to theposition of shaykh generally follows the line offamily descent, being the son or other descendant ofthe founding master is not sufficient either forselection by the shaykh or for the chosendescendant’s acceptance by others as a legitimatesuccessor. The successor also has to be acknowledgedby the people as one who has inherited hispredecessor’s knowledge and spiritual stature.Austerity, self-denial and humility are recognizedas external signs of sainthood; these traits may

help the successor to gain recognition of his statusas the new shaykh. To his faithful followers, ShaykhMuhammad al-Tayyib was a saintly person of greatmajesty who had devoted his life, which was markedby extreme self-denial, entirely to God. He inspireda reverential fear in his followers but at the sametime a profound love. His body was, as some say,‘pure and luminous as those of the saints’ for hewas himself one of the Friends of God.

The present shaykh, Muhammad Muhammad Ahmad al-Tayyib al-Hasani, is Shaykh Muhammad’s eldest son.One could hardly imagine a greater difference fromhis father, who was likewise very different from thegrandfather. The grandson has a round face and doesnot hide his corpulence, showing that he appreciatesa good meal. He dresses according to the localcustom. He is a friendly and genial man who loves agood joke, especially at the expense of others, andhe enjoys pulling your leg in public. He is,finally, a man of action, `amal, rather than a manof knowledge, `ilm. He has, it is true, studied atal-Azhar, but not up to a high level – unlike hisbrother Ahmad, who holds a doctorate in Islamicphilosophy from that institution’s Faculty ofTheology (usul al-din). However, in spite of thismild and good-natured appearance he inspires fearand respect like his father, for he is a man ofpower who reigns in his saha with an iron fist.

It has to be said that the times have changed:administering the saha he inherited from his father

has become a heavy task. There are many saha inUpper Egypt, both small ones that are closed andreserved for a narrow circle of disciples, and largeones that are open to all visitors. All depends onthe social and economic as well as the therapeuticroles played by the shaykh concerned. The presentsaha probably resembles only in a few respects thesaha that the grandfather had built to house hisfamily and receive his disciples. The family hasexpanded but even more so has the number ofdisciples, which increased as the population of thevillage and the wider region increased and as theshaykh came to play a more important role insociety. The original structure of sun-baked claybricks has been replaced by one of concrete andcement. Since the 1970s, the saha has had its ownmosque, and in the 1990s it also received a minaret.Rooms have had to be added to provide lodging forvisitors coming from afar, and a large kitchen wasbuilt to prepare dozens, or even hundreds, of mealsserved after the weekly dhikr sessions following theFriday prayer and at the larger celebrations of thereligious holidays. The saha is always open; anypasser-by can enter it to pray, meditate and passthe night if he wishes, or simply to take a rest,seated on a bench in the courtyard, in the shadow ofthe trees, in the calm and quiet atmosphere of thisholy place. A servant will offer the visitor tea,and even a meal.

Besides the weekly distribution of food after thedhikr, more substantial food distributions take

place in the khidma organized by the shaykh on theoccasion of major religious festivals.4 He organizessuch khidma at the time of the two great annualmawalid of Cairo, the festivals in honour of theProphet’s grandchildren sayyida Zaynab and sayyidal-Husayn, and during the mawlid of the al-Tayyibshaykhs in Upper Egypt. The organization of thesefestivities obviously requires considerablefinancial resources. The shaykh also providessustenance to the needy. Whereas the state has beenfailing as a provider of social security and ofredistribution, the shaykh has stepped in andassumed these functions. This helps to explain whythe saha has been so successful.

It proved impossible to measure the economic flowsthat make the saha the centre of redistribution.Like every Sufi establishment, the saha no doubtowes much to alms and to private gifts. Whatever mayhave been the forms of material accumulation andenrichment of the al-Tayyib family, in the eyes oftheir followers the present shaykh is a rich manbecause he is pious; this manna is the fruit of hisbaraka, the sign of God’s beneficence towards him.The shaykh’s walaya is revealed, made visible,through these daily actions of his for the well-being of his community. Generosity is one aspect ofsainthood: the shaykh gives to the faithful withoutkeeping anything for himself. He is said to ‘servethe people [for free]’ (yakhdam al-nas), i.e. toserve them for the love of God. The wali is at thesame time also a man of power, and this quality is

also recognized in Shaykh al-Tayyib, who acts as themediator and arbiter of conflicts in his village.

The saha of Shaykh al-Tayyib receives a continuousstream of visitors, some of them people from thevillage or its surroundings, others from nearbytowns or more distant cities such as Aswan, andincluding not only Muslims but also Christians; notonly adult men but also women and youths. Some cometo request his intercession with local authorities,others to ask his advice, moral support or materialassistance. Women come to seek his protectionagainst a violent husband or father; young peopleseek his blessing before undertaking a voyage,investing money or contracting a marriage. But it isespecially to seek his help in arbitration thatpeople come to see the shaykh. His father andgrandfather already functioned as arbiters andmediators in the feuds that for a long time causedmuch bloodshed in the region. The feuds have notdisappeared, but the present shaykh is especiallyactive in resolving conflicts between spouses,brothers, cousins and neighbours – conflicts thatare often about land or questions of inheritance. Inarbitration he presides over a council consisting ofthe important personalities of the village, namedthe majlis al-`arab. His intercession is made moreeffective due to his connections with the localauthorities.

The shaykh is also a political notable, even thoughhe would not describe himself as such. He holds

local power as a result of his political connectionswith the government, due to which he can interveneeffectively on behalf of the community. He is amember of the ruling party, the NDP (NationalDemocratic Party). Government officials often haverecourse to him for taking care of problems in thevillage, and he regularly obliges them, assisted byhis council of local notables. His authority and theprestige of his family increased even further whenhis learned brother, the said doctor Ahmad, wasappointed as the mufti of the Republic by theEgyptian President himself and later was promoted tothe position of president of al-Azhar university.For his followers, these relations of the shaykhwith the holders of political power are not at allin contradiction with his status as a saint. Theyare perceived as recognition of his authority and asa form of allegiance of the powerful of this worldto his spiritual leadership. They are seen as proofthat the invisible power of the saint is superior toworldly power.

Once the followers have recognized the presence ofwalaya in the shaykh, they establish a relationshipof allegiance with him that sociologically takes theform of a patron-client relationship. The shaykhprotects the interests of the village and inexchange the people show him their recognition andallegiance. This is not very different from the waysainthood functioned in early Christendom. Studentsof the history and anthropology of Sufism may learnmuch from the methodological advances made by

historians of sainthood in Christianity, among whichespecially Peter Brown’s work on Late Antiquity(1982) has become a major reference. The relationsof patronage that we have noted in the Egyptiancase, where the shaykh takes care of the needs ofthe community, are inherent in the very concept ofwalaya: proximity to God implies patronage. AsMichel Chodkiewicz has noted, the Sufi concept ofwalaya corresponds with the Roman term amicitia,which likewise, as Brown has shown, denotessimultaneously friendship, protection and power:‘The saint was the patronus, the protector with whomit was desirable to enter into a clientrelationship’ (Brown, 1982: 15).

The people of the village experience theirrelationship with the shaykh as one of exchange andmutual benefits, which they exploit themselves. Theshaykh is arbiter and intermediary at the same time:he intercedes with God, through the intermediary ofthe Prophet, on behalf of individuals and heintercedes with the state on behalf of thecommunity. He represents in this sense the idealpatron as defined by Peter Brown:

« He is a man who would use his power to smooth overthe thorny issues of village life. He would provide– and help distribute – the all- important watersupply of the village. He would arrange thecancelling of debts. He could settle disputes amongthe villagers on the spot, and so save them the longtrek to the local town to conduct their

litigations ». (Brown, 1982: 117)

The walaya of a saint, here in Upper Egypt, has aclear territorial dimension, which reminds us of thedual meaning of the pair of homonyms walaya andwilaya – the former primarily referring to proximityto God, the latter to territory and authority.Against this background it is understandable thatthe ties to Shaykh al-Tayyib were complemented byties of family, regional, or ethnic identity. Theaffiliations with the shaykh have a collectiveaspect and are often (though not always) hereditary.

This contrasts with the state of affairs in the twoother branches of the Khalwatiyya discussed below.These have established themselves primarily in theurban environment, thanks to networks ofinstitutions of religious studies and later ofmosques. They are not localized turuq linked to aspecific territory (whether a village, an urbanneighbourhood or a town). From Cairo they havespread everywhere in the cities of Upper Egypt,where they have built some new kinds of socialsettings for their gatherings. Because the shaykhresides in Cairo, the primary social ties in theseUpper Egyptian branches are those between brotherson the path rather than between master and disciple.Adherence to the tariqa is a matter of personalchoice rather than heredity.

Another Social Setting: The rawda

Shaykh `Abd al-Jawad al-Dumi preferred the spiritual

transmission from master to disciple over that byinheritance. During his lifetime he issued ijazas(certificates of permission to provide guidance) tothree of his disciples, who became his khalifa afterhis death. When a shaykh opts for transmitting hispath to more than one disciple, he cannot logicallychoose a single successor among them. As a result,schisms are almost inevitable; these make up much ofthe vitality of a tariqa.

After the death of Shaykh al-Dumi, the majority ofhis followers elected his eldest disciple andkhalifa, Shaykh al-Ramli, as the new spiritualmaster of the tariqa. Shaykh Sulayman, who also hadan ijaza from Shaykh al-Dumi defected from thetariqa, accompanied by another group of followers.They considered that Shaykh al-Ramli was notsufficiently learned to become their new shaykh.Shaykh Ramli was but a modest employee of therailways, whereas Shaykh Sulayman had a diploma fromal-Azhar. The group around Shaykh Sulayman grew intoa new branch, which took the name of KhalwatiyyaDumiyya, and the group led by Shaykh al-Ramli tookthe name of Khalwatiyya Dumiyya Ramliyya.

These two branches are completely independent of oneanother at present. Even when they celebrate themawlid of their common master, `Abd al-Jawad al-Dumi, they do so separately. Shaykh al-Ramli liesburied beside his master al-Dumi in the graveyard ofImam Shafi`i, south of the City of the Dead in Cairo(the Qarafa). But when Shaykh Sulayman died in 1959,

his followers built a luxurious mausoleum for him inthe graveyard of al-Basatin, further north. In spiteof this evident break, however, both shaykhs andtheir khalifa in turn have followed Shaykh al-Dumi’sways of organizing their tariqa and functioning insociety.

The various activities of these two branches takeplace in a number of different settings: in privateapartments, often in mosques, and especially in therawda, an institution specific to these branches.The rawda (literally ‘garden’) is in fact a ratherlarge building, usually consisting of a simple hallfor gatherings but in some cases a building ofseveral floors with a social and cultural centreattached. The first rawda was established by Shaykhal-Dumi as a meeting and gathering place for hisdisciples in Cairo but especially for those who cameto visit him from Upper Egypt. Then the members ofthe Khalwatiyya Dumiyya, whose shaykh resides inCairo, built a rawda in the capital (the one of al-Basatin) and established other rawda in most bigcities of Upper Egypt. As for the rawda of theKhalwatiyya Dumiyya Ramliyya, they are all locatedin Upper Egypt where its successive shaykhs havelived. A biography of shaykh al-Dumi records adisciple’s memories of the founding of the rawda:

The shaykh held dhikr sessions on all Sunday andThursday evenings, following the class and theevening prayer (`isha). Some people came from veryfar away to take part in the dhikr, and when they

had no relatives in Cairo, they were lodged in therawda that their shaykh put at their disposal.(Tahir and Mahmud, 1961: 179)

Unlike the saha in the Upper Egyptian context, therawda is not open to the general public; it isreserved for the disciples. It is here thatdisciples who are passing through can spend thenight, as does the master himself during his visits.Only rarely will a disciple stay in a rawdapermanently, although such cases do occur. One suchlong-time resident whom I encountered was Ibrahim, astudent at al-Azhar. Ibrahim came from a village inthe district of al-Maragha and he was initiated intothe Khalwatiyya Dumiyya by Husayn Mu`awad, thepresent shaykh of the tariqa. Upon arrival in Cairo,he first found a place to stay in the rawda of al-Basatin, in the Qarafa, and later moved on to thatof Giza. He stayed in both places free of charge.

In the course of the 1970s, the number of suchrawdas in Cairo and the cities of the Nile valleyincreased rapidly, due to the propagation of anetwork of associations for carrying out thereligious and social activities of both branches ofthe tariqa. These associations collected voluntarycontributions (tabarru`at) for the construction ofsocial and educational centres run by the tariqa.These complexes usually comprised a mosque andsometimes a Qur’an school, but also a clinic andsometimes even a hospital. The rawdas are oftenattached to these complexes.

The rawda is an essentially urban institution. Thesize and splendour of the rawda depend of course onthe importance of the tariqa in the town. Most rawdaare of modest size. The rawda in the town of Suhajmay serve as an example of an average one. Itconsists basically of a single large room, with lotsof carpets and cushions on the floor and portraitsof the shaykhs of the tariqa as the only ornamentson the wall. On one side, there is a bedroom, a tinykitchen and a bathroom. One of the largest rawda isthat in the town of Jirja – a five-story building onthe Corniche, built in the 1980s. On each floorthere are rooms with two or three beds, intended fordisciples who are passing through. A better-appointed bedroom, with attached bathroom andtoilet, is reserved for the shaykh’s use during hisstays in the town. This rawda also has a prayer halland a modest library. The construction of such arawda may take many years and demand considerablefunds. Rooms and facilities may be added when fundsbecome available.Another exceptional rawda, with amore specialized function, is the one that wasestablished in the garden around the mausoleum ofShaykh Sulayman to provide lodgings to disciples andfollowers who come from afar to visit the shaykh’sgrave or to take part in his mawlid, which iscelebrated every year on the first Friday of themonth Muharram. For the rest of the year, the rawdaserves as a holiday retreat for the shaykh and hisfamily; it is located at a quiet and airy site inthe foothills of the Muqattam cliffs. This rawda has

several floors. On the ground floor are the kitchensand on the first floor are two salons, the smallerof which is reserved for women and also holds theshaykh’s personal library. The upper floors haverooms for guests, and on top there is a terrace.

The rawda was from the beginning conceived as theplace for the brothers of the path to experiencecompanionship among themselves, companionship(suhba) being one of the pillars of the pathaccording to all classical Sufi manuals. This iswhere they meet after the collective dhikr session.Seated in a circle and sipping tea, sometimes servedwith sweets, they discuss or follow lessons. Theserawda are run by the oldest and closest disciples ofthe master, all of them Azharis and usually retiredmen, who have both enough free time and sufficientreligious knowledge to organize the majlis (thedhikr session), to lead the prayer, and sometimes toinitiate new disciples. It is these meetings in therawda that keep the ties between brothers on thepath intact. Associating in the rawda alsocontributes an internal cohesion to the group thatcompensates for the absence of the shaykh most ofthe time. The emphasis in the rawda is oncompanionship and brotherhood. In this context,suhba refers not only to the attachment to theshaykh but also to the sense of unity amongcompanions at the rawda as brothers on the path (cf.Gril, 1986: 43). The disciples feel united by theircommon loyalty and love for the shaykh and byextension for the Prophet and all saints This common

sentiment exemplifies the convivial and fraternalnature of Sufism.

The rawda have other important social functions:they provide a meeting point for non-resident urbanfollowers and help to integrate new urban migrantsinto the urban environment. The recent massivemigration from the countryside to the cities and theemergence of proletarian urban classes haveinfluenced the ways in which the turuq areintegrated into society. The turuq traditionallydepended strongly on kinship, tribal relations, andlocal and regional ties for recruitment andcohesion. All of these traditional forms of socialorganization have been profoundly affected by therural exodus, although they have not entirelydisappeared. The Khalwatiyya Dumiyya and theKhalwatiyya Dumiyya Ramliyya reproduce in Cairo andthe cities of the Nile valley local and regionalsolidarities that are still very strong. The rawdamake it possible to maintain ties of solidarityamong the disciples who are rural migrants to theurban environment. In Cairo, new migrants, who areoften quite young, find a new family with theirshaykh and with their brothers on the Path.

Conclusions

The debates on Sufism and modern society in Egypthave been and remain dominated by Michael Gilsenan’sstudy of an urban branch of the Shadhiliyya and Fredde Jong’s study on the institutionalization of theturuq by the state. Gilsenan attributed the survival

of the turuq in modern urban society to a Weberianrationalization of its forms of organization and itspractices. De Jong attributed the changingorganization of the turuq in Egypt primarily to therole of the state.5 Official support and a certaindegree of modern organization no doubt played a partin the development and the religious and socialintegration of the turuq into modern Egyptiansociety, but these have not been decisive ordominant factors. It is true that the connectionsbetween the holders of political power and the Sufishaykhs have a long history and are well establishedin Egypt. At least since Ottoman times, the statehas made efforts to intervene in the functioning ofthe turuq. Towards the end of the nineteenthcentury, the government established a Sufi council,which had the task of overseeing and administeringthe social world of mysticism (De Jong, 1978). Inthe 1980s, some 70 turuq were registered by thiscouncil, but at least as many if not more had to dowithout its stamp of recognition.

The branches of the Khalwatiyya examined in thischapter have always refused official registration.Their shaykhs are not public personalities like theshaykhs studied by previous researchers.6 They donot take part in the conferences and publicdiscussions of religious questions that areorganized by the state, nor are they present at theofficial openings of religious ceremonies, and theydo not have seats on the Sufi council. Like manyAzharis, they have experienced as traumatic events

both the reforms of al- Azhar carried out underNasser in the 1960s, and the transformation of itsulama into civil servants. Many men of religion (andthis includes many Sufis) feel in their hearts astrong wish to free themselves from control by thestate (cf. Zeghal, 1996).

The shaykhs of the Khalwatiyya did not need thestate to have their authority recognized; it existsoutside the state. Their authority has to do withexoteric knowledge, acquired at al-Azhar, and with aspiritual transmission that makes them guides inthis world and in the hereafter. It is true thatfrom the moment a tariqa takes form as a social bodyit cannot completely escape interference by thestate. However, it is not as easy for the state toreform the turuq as it was to reform al-Azhar;neither their ideology nor their social orinstitutional form is susceptible to suchintervention. The common approach therefore has beento establish patron–client networks with theshaykhs. Sufi shaykhs have themselves also engagedin a reciprocal strategy of seeking patronage frombureaucrats and politicians. The social microcosmstudied here illustrates a situation that isprevalent in the entire country: the state exertsadministrative power, but moral authority isexercised by informal leaders who are accepted bythe government but not directly controlled by it.

It is not possible to fully separate analysis of thetariqa as a spiritual path and as a pattern of

social relationships. The turuq represent only oneaspect and only one vector of a religious culturethat has been forged in Islam in the course of thecenturies. This culture revolves around sainthood.The saints follow models that have been transmittedto them in the course of their initiation andeducation, and all emphasize some particularattribute or quality of the Prophet.7 Each shaykh orsaint represents a spiritual profile. The profile ofthe Khalwati shaykh is that of a Sufi attached tothe principles of the Sunna, who is engaged in aform of social activism adapted to his environment.For his disciples he is himself a model to emulate,and if the shaykh’s example is too difficult toimitate, the disciple may at least seek dailycontact and proximity to him. Communication with theshaykh, the love felt for him, and the serviceswillingly rendered to him are also forms ofspiritual realization. This personal relationtransforms the disciple, and the transformationaffects his relations with his companions on thepath, with his family, and with his entire universe.

Acknowledgement

I thank Malika Zeghal for her incisive andilluminating comments on an earlier version of thisarticle.

NOTES

. 1  In France, scholars affiliated with the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales have, from the 1980s, published a series of edited volumes on the history and present situation of the tariqa in the modern world: Popovic and Veinstein (1986, 1996); Gaborieau, Popovic and Zarcone (1990).

. 2  This approach was developed in my book-length study of Egyptian tariqa, Chih (2000a).

. 3  In an insightful study of the ‘prophetic model’ of the spiritual master, Denis Gril (2002) has analyzed the references in the Qur’an and hadith on which Sufis base their conception of the spiritual master. This article echoes an earlier statement by Michel Chodkiewicz (1996).

. 4  Among contemporary Egyptian Sufis, the term khidma refers tothe place (a tent, an apartment, or even just the corridor of a house) where the members of a tariqa or the adherents of a saint perform their dhikr and serve tea and food duringa mawlid.

. 5  Gilsenan (1973); De Jong (1983) and Luizard (1991) largely follow the analysis of De Jong.

. 6  Besides the studies of Gilsenan and De Jong mentioned above,there are three relevant studies by Pierre-Jean Luizard (1990, 1991, 1992).

. 7  For a typology of models of sainthood in medieval Morocco, see the conclusions of the subtle study by Cornell (1998).

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