Bishr the Barefoot: Ordinariness of the sacred
Islamic art decorations by the mausoleum of renowned medieval Iranian poet and mystic Farid ud-Din Attar in his hometown of Neyshabur, Razavi Khorasan province, Iran, Aug. 19, 2014. (Getty Images Photo)

Ascetic Bishr al-Hafi's unwavering reverence for the sacred, whether found in a simple piece of paper or the entire Earth, reflects the profound spiritual awareness of Sufism



"Sacred" denotes a higher or divine place while naturally casting off the profane.

When Allah ordered Moses to take off his shoes, it was in a sacred valley, and he was there to encounter Allah. There are two elements that can make a place sacred: It is sacred in itself, willed by God, or an attribution of divinity has been given to it. In the Quran, Allah informs us, "Allah is who spread the earth for you, and made in it paths for you." In this respect, no land can be attributed as profane as all land is divine as long as we see it as the most perfect manifestation of the divine.

Moses was ordered to take off his shoes either because it was a sacred land in itself or because he was about to meet Allah. Both ways, he was barefoot, touching and feeling the earth beneath him. It was a sign of respect; he observed "the sacred" like a slave to Allah, abandoning his power and returning it to its real owner.

When Bishr al-Hafi took his shoes off, he observed a similar experience. A ninth-century Sufi, al-Hafi was a phenomenal figure with extraordinary traits. He was blessed with high spiritual degrees after he showed great respect toward a piece of paper on which was written the name of Allah. Farid ud-Din Attar, or Attar of Nishapur, tells us the story of his illumination: "When he saw a piece of paper that had fallen on the road and on it was written, 'In the name of God, the Merciful and Compassionate,' he immediately bought a fine fragrance and anointed it. And afterward, he put it in a place of great honor."

A piece of paper is no longer a piece of paper when it carries the beautiful name of Allah. Even though al-Hafi had not been a devotee before, he respected it, leading to his salvation. Just as he anointed the paper, he was anointed with divine grace.

He was praised by Allah for his behavior through a dream and that was the cornerstone of his life. He never wore shoes on his feet again. That is why he was called Hafi, meaning "the barefoot." When he was asked why he never wore shoes, he said:

"The day I made my peace, I was barefoot. Now I am ashamed to wear shoes again. Moreover, the Real Most High states, 'I have made the earth your carpet.' It is not good manners to walk on kings’ carpets with your shoes on."

For al-Hafi, all land was sacred, so he was scrupulous wherever he was as he was aware that there was not a profane place per se; the earth as a whole was blessed as it was the manifestation of the divine. On the other hand, Sufis are known for their consciousness as they spend their lives on the path of learning and devotion. Theirs is the state where they sit with, talk to and contemplate Allah. This mindfulness requires constant respect, both spiritually and physically. That is why some Sufis are reported to never lie down, even for sleeping. They keep a respectful posture, thinking that Allah is observing them because they take no break in contemplating.

This state of mind gives "the sacred" its due, but it is more dignified in generalizing the sacred. For instance, Mecca is the most sacred place for Muslims, and it is incumbent upon them to go there if they have the means. But medieval Iranian poet and mystic Farid ud-Din Attar tells us an interesting story regarding it. When someone consulted al-Hafi about whether he should go on the pilgrimage with the money he lawfully earned, al-Hafi told him not to do it as it would be like going sightseeing. And he said it would be better if he spent the money for the poor or for an orphan as the comfort they would feel in their hearts was nobler than a hundred pilgrimages. Bishr the Barefoot, who does not take any place for granted, advises a man not to visit the holy land. Why would he reduce this practice of great importance to sightseeing?

This reminds us of the story of Bayazid Bastami, who was one of the greatest Sufis. It is reported that he left Bastam to look for his Lord. On the road, someone asked him why he was traveling; he replied: To find Allah. However, the man asked him this question that made him speechless: "Isn’t Allah in Bastam?"

If Allah is all-present, they find Allah everywhere a person turns. And wherever they find Allah, that place is sacred. It might be a sacred valley to step on for Moses, but it was also sacred as he was about to encounter Allah. And al-Hafi was constantly in the remembrance of Allah, so wherever he went was sacred as he carried the sacred within. His understanding of the sacred lies in its ordinariness. In fact, he defied the ordinariness by attributing sacredness to every inch of the earth as it was "spread by Allah." Revering a piece of paper culminates in such high discernment of reverence, which shows how meticulously Sufis lived and built a more delicate system of their own.