In his simple poem, Yunus Emre, a 13th-century Turkish poet, invites us to the realm of knowledge. This is a criticism of external knowledge as it has been despised in Sufism since the earliest times. As long as learning does not lead to self-knowledge or transformation of the “self,” what worth does it have? Sufis were focused on practice rather than knowledge and claimed that their practices would eventually help them attain knowledge, turning their practices, such as solitude, hunger, remembrance, etc., into an epistemological method.
Farid-ud Din Attar, in his grand “Tadhkirat-ul-Awliya,” tells us stories that shatter the common view on knowledge. Islam has witnessed countless fervent theological discussions and Sufis, as a part of their renunciation of this world, rejected to participate in them because, for them, the practice was way more important than loading the mind with unnecessary nuances. For instance, Attar narrates to us a saying by Muhammad bin Wasi, a Muslim renunciant:
“When asked about the divine decree and predestination, he answered: ‘On the day of Judgement, Allah will not ask you what the divine law and predestination is. He will ask you what you have done in your life.'"
It is not that Wasi was ignorant of the knowledge about destiny; he chose a way of acting rather than talking. So instead of learning every little detail about predestination and the views of scholars, he focused on keeping his heart pure and performing the acts required to be a decent Muslim.
Attar gives another striking example of the significance of a sincere heart over straight knowledge:
“It is related that Hasan Basri visited Habib al-Ajami while he was performing the evening prayer. He heard that al-Ajami pronounced 'praise' as a 'phrase' and thought to himself: ‘It’s not right to pray behind him’ and left. That night, God reprimanded him in his dream: ‘That prayer was to be the seal on your lifetime of prayers, but correct expression held you back from sound intention. There is a big difference between making the tongue right and making the heart right.’”
Islam requires believers to attain at least minimum knowledge to perform their religious duties. However, letters do not always bring with them their meaning. That is why Sufis prioritized concepts like meaning, sincerity and purity over scripts, memory or books. As one al-Ajami, who learned a great deal from Hasan Basri, told him, “I make my heart white while you make paper black,” meaning that Hasan was occupied with sciences while he was busy purifying his heart. Upon hearing that, Hasan confessed that others profited from his knowledge while he did not himself. However, we know that he is just being modest; his intention is clear: Knowledge should lead to action, as in the case of al-Ajami, and that action should lead to more knowledge.
If reading, learning or even teaching does not ensure knowledge, what does? A Sufi’s answer to this is very simple: Act! In the history of Sufism, when studied as a systematical science, it will be clearly seen that their method has turned the common learning process upside down. Ordinarily, a person first learns something and then acts accordingly. On the other hand, Sufis support the idea that if you work sincerely, Allah will teach you and Allah is the best teacher. So, every act of them becomes a way of learning. When they starve themselves, they claim that they learn the nature of created beings; how dependent and poor they actually are, or they get to know the Divine Name “Samad,” meaning “Eternal Refuge,” and how Allah needs no one while everything needs Allah. When they are alone in a cell, just praying and focusing on the dhikr of Allah, they get a higher knowledge directly from Allah. A prominent Sufi once said: “You attain your knowledge from the dead. We take our knowledge from the Living who does not die,” referring to Allah.
It is narrated that some Sufis threw away their books or left them behind before setting on the Path. Unless performed, what good is knowledge? And they believed that they could not increase their understanding by just education; they found the solution in acting: Rejecting worldly pleasures and devotion to religious practices! No wonder why most of the first Sufis were travelers; that is how they achieved complete isolation and intimacy with Allah. Practices such as hunger, solitude, constant dhikr, and prayer would help them collect all their attention on “self” and how to purify it, as well as on Allah and how to know Allah. Theirs is the way of erasing everything in sight and mind that gets in the way between them and divine knowledge.
On the other hand, however, focused on work to attain knowledge, they never underestimated the concept of divine grace. Because it is never in a person’s hands to get such knowledge, it is Allah’s grace to bestow upon them this knowledge as a blessing to their endeavors. On this lonely path, Sufis sought to be alone with the Alone. They tested their bodily limits by keeping them from food, sleep, or company; in return, they got knowledge. It is like they were rewarded with wisdom by clearing their bodies and minds from distractions. Sufis realized that divine knowledge, just like a divine revelation, is not bound to reading and learning but instead to a pure heart and constant remembrance of Allah.
