Eating and Fasting for God in Sufi Tradition

Valerie J. Hoffman

Journal of the American Academy of Religion LXIII/3 (1995) 

 Below passages are selected and paraphrased from Hoffman’s article based on my focus of interest.

The Qur'an says all the food of the Jews and Christians is lawful to the Muslims, as is the food of the Muslims lawful to them (5:5). Gratitude (shukr) to God for His provision is one of the main characteristics of the faithful, while unbelievers are characterized, in the typical Qur'anic literary style of assonance and antithetic parallelism, by ingratitude (kufr).

Feeding a poor person is so meritorious that it can be an expiation for failure to observe the fast of Ramadan or for breaking the taboo on hunting during the pilgrimage (2:184, 5:95).

The Qur'anic preoccupation with food and feeding goes beyond discussions of human sustenance and charity. Images of food and drink appear prominently in descriptions of the Garden of Paradise and of Hellfire. The believers who are rewarded in the Garden eat abundant fruit and are served non-intoxicating drinks (43:73). They drink from rivers of water, rivers of milk that does not go sour, non-intoxicating delicious wine, and clarified honey (47:15). On the other hand, those who conceal God's revealed truth or treat it lightly, trying to derive some financial gain from it, "eat nothing but fire into their bellies" (2:174). The wrongdoers in Hellfire have only filth (69:36) and thorns (88:6) and food that chokes (73:13). They fill their bellies from the tree of Zaqqum, which grows in the bottom of hell and produces fruit like the heads of demons (37:6266). They drink boiling water, which tears apart their bowels.

The overall attitude of Hadïth is that the Muslims should be neither too worldly nor too other-worldly: they should take from both this world and the next. For instance, Ibn al-'Arabi cautions disciples against both satiation and excessive hunger. "Keep your constitution in balance, for if dryness is excessive, it leads to corrupt imaginings and long, delirious ravings" (31). Balance and moderation are key words in this attitude.

Attitudes Toward Food in Sufi Tradition

Sufism began as a pious reaction against the growing worldliness of Muslims in the second half of the seventh century C.E., accompanied by an avoidance of government officials and rich people. It developed into a full-fledged mysticism in the late eighth and early ninth centuries, but the asceticism of the early Sufis remained an integral part of Sufi life.

Fasting: The spiritual benefits of fasting are abundant. One is the humbling effect of hunger. Another benefit is that it produces patience. The other aspect among early Sufis was the cultivation of an attitude of absolute dependence on God to provide for all one's needs, avoiding asking for provision from others or working for a living or worrying about where one's food would come from. Fasting is "a fortress and a paradise" for the "friends of God," who has granted them the method to repel the guile and trickery of Satan as in the lost Paradise (1:303-4).

There are some extreme examples of fasting as demonstrated in al-Maghribï’s words among Sufis: The one devoted to the Lord eats only every forty days, and the one devoted to the Eternal eats only every eighty days." Another Sufi commented, "If the Sufi says after five days (of fasting), Ί am hungry,' then send him to the marketplace to earn something" (Qushayrï 1990: 81-2)— implying that he is unworthy to live the Sufi life.

It is not just the quantity of food, but the type of food that affects spiritual well-being. One of the expected charismata of the saint, or friend of God, was the ability to tame wild animals and be on friendly terms with them. Valerie J. Hoffman cites two anecdotes/advice on avoiding animal-fat which were attributed to Rabia and Ibni Arabi.

Sufism and Food in Modern Egypt

Sufis who dress in colorful rags and live off the charity of others without regular employment may still be seen at the celebrations of saints' days (mevlids), but their lifestyle is not highly regarded even in most Sufi circles. They epitomize the "dervishism" that many Sufis feel has given Sufism a bad name with today's educated middle class. Many Sufi shaykhs, however, neither live off the charity of others nor work for a living.

Hospitality’s Link to Food: Sufis today in Egypt appear to delight in the assurance of their relationship with God, and enjoy this relationship while functioning normally in the world. Hoffman argues that rather than embracing hunger, Egyptian Sufis make the serving of food central to their devotional life. Hospitality has long been a prominent aspect of Sufism since the founding of Sufi retreat centers—as early as the eleventh century—that regularly welcomed traveling Sufis. Today, this custom continues in Egypt where Sufi shaykhs or other individuals establish centers for Sufi devotion, spiritual retreats, and hospitality, called sähas.

In contemporary Egypt, Sufi hospitality and devotion often revolve around the attendance of moulids—saint's day celebrations. Moulids/mevlits celebrate the anniversary of the death of a saint (can be any man, woman or child) who is believed to be close to God. Their tombs become shrines where pilgrims implore the intercession of the saint or, more Islamically proper, implore God by virtue of the baraka of the saint, for a variety of reasons such as healing, help with exams, the redress of wrongs, or simply for favor with God.

Some of the moulids/mevlids, like that of Ahmad al-Badawi in the town of Tanta in the Delta, have become such economic affairs that their religious significance becomes obscured by the secular pursuits.

Although food may be offered by a spiritual superior or by a person of lower spiritual rank to a spiritual superior, the meaning of the offering of food is interpreted according to the larger context. Any food offered at a moulid carries the baraka of the saint in whose name it is offered. When a shaykh offers food, he is offering his own baraka, and blessing is conveyed to the person who eats. When a shaykh/shaykha accepts an invitation to eat at somebody's home, he brings baraka to the house, and honors the host by tasting their food. Hierarchy and submission are expressed not by the mere act of offering food, but by the dispensation and receiving of blessing.

Among the drinks, milk seems to enjoy a special significance Sufism, signifying spiritual adoption if visions or dreams are related to it. 

Hoffman concludes with a balanced statement that in Sufism, eating to satisfy one's appetites leaves one open to Satanic insinuation, but eating for the sake of God can strengthen one for worship.

Wild Women Representations Part III _Agnes Varda

Sans Toit Ni Loi or Vagabond (1985)

 

The name of the main character of Agnes Varda’s Sans Toit Ni Loi  is Mona or Justine (because she changed her name from Justine to Mona, she says). Although the French title's translation is "No Shelter No Law" in non-Francophone countries it was released as Vagabond. I think I have first seen it at a film festival in Istanbul or Ankara but this revisit was glorious. I entirely enjoyed the mastery in it. Mona is 'the vagabond' whose seeming freedom is mostly but briefly envied by others who speak or report to the camera about Mona since the movie is the chronicle of a death foretold. It is a woman’s story via testimonies of others whom she came into contact one way or another. Mona’s indifference and unapologetic attitude can be compared to Joe (the protagonist of Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac) for the audience who are familiar with both.

 

As a young woman wanderer, Mona spreads unease. Through the small talk that most drivers or men who give her daily or hourly cash-in-hand jobs had with her, we learn that Mona quit her job as a secretary and took off on the road to nowhere with her tent on her back, sleeping in fields, on roadsides, deserted houses. We witness some hard times when she most likely sells sex and gets raped too. She remains always defiant, faintly mutinous, uncaring, enigmatic. As she says, “I don’t care – I move on”.

 

The amazing Agnès Varda renders the audience as her observers, and we are (I as for one) led to feel uneasy with our helplessness and detachment from a character whose life has been detailed by the others; yet, whose thoughts remains buried. Mona is a “rahat” woman but doesn’t give the impression that she is comfortable or at ease with herself or with the world except a few occasions.

 

Among the dozens of characters whom she meets on the road, I will remember particularly the two. A stylish academic (Macha Méril) encounters Mona and agrees to drive her around, lets her sleep in the car, buys her good food etc. Her job is to diagnose the sick trees in Southern France and report to her team so that the diseased trees can be logged and cleared (anything symbolic there?). She is disgusted by Mona’s smell but is too polite to ask her to get out of the car, yet, also fascinated by her. Not once we hear Mona thanking her or showing appreciation, not even after she hands Mona groceries and some money before the drop off.

 

The second one is a hippy with an MA in Philosophy and his girlfriend. They raise goats and make cheese, and they happen to like Mona who asks for a place to crash for one night. They offer her some land to work and a caravan to live in because earlier, Mona tells the guy that she wants to grow potatoes for future, an almost shockingly simple dream. But they are deeply irritated and disappointed when Mona shows no inclination to get out of bed in the mornings. This man tells Mona that, for all the romantic notions, life on the road, combined with its ruthless poverty, is a kind of living death. I agree and consider the family’s offer as a truly missed opportunity. In fact, that setting seems to be only place where she could combine her readings and daydreaming with gardening. I even thought of Voltaire’s Candide ou l'Optimisme when Mona too was surprised that the guy was once a traveller like herself and studied philosophy. He managed to find a mid-way (as is clearly expressed) and was empathetic with Mona’s ways.

 

Whether Mona is a determined free spirit or just a lost soul is up to the viewer to decide but it is not an easy conclusion to make. Her story's end (or the movie’s beginning, that is, a frozen corpse) is nothing like the attractive hitchhikers in Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (Gus Van Sant, 1993) or In July (Fatih Akın, 2000). Mona is an unusual and memorable one who defies most women representations in movies or in real life for that matter. 

"Wild Women" Representations_ Part II_Roseann Quinn and Maryse Holder

Sisterhood is Complicated

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1975) by Judith Rossner

The novel was inspired by the murder of Roseann Quinn and examines the underside of the seventies sexual liberation movement.  The protagonist, Theresa Dunn, is a young woman who spends her days teaching first grade to a classroom of deaf-mutes and her nights hanging out in singles bars of New York in the 1970s. She is a beloved and dedicated school teacher who loves her job but very anti-marriage and want no children of her own makes, which renders her a complicated woman.

For centuries, women weren't allowed to be complicated: They were ladies or tramps. Of course, that binary doesn’t work for all women on the planet. So what happens when they don’t mind being both and even enjoy it? The sequence of “the good boy at family dinner scene” which raises her parents’ hope for a possible marriage is  followed by the scene at the bar with another and clearly bad boy (Tony) who jokes about the Bible that Theresa finds her in purse (stuck by her mother). The answer is -as long as the movies are made by and for the patriarchal system- their end is not the happiest. Even worse, these products can send signals or messages to the audience that women better not complicate life and roles for their own well being and safety!

Janis Joplin’s poster on the wall is significant at T’s flat where Tony inflicts physical abuse on her and becomes a stalker after a one-night-stand. The bloody end that Theresa faces can be interpreted as a punishment for many conservative viewers but also refreshingly criticized by several other readers from the opposite end of the spectrum.  And hey, what’s with Janis Joplin?

Give Sorrow Words – Maryse Holder’s Letters from Mexico (1979) 

I came across Maryse Holder’s Give Sorrow Words - Letters from Mexico at a giant secondhand book fair in San Francisco in 2014, and picked it out of the hundreds books that I scanned on that wonderful day at Fort Mason. Despite the book’s cheesy Harlequin style cover, its foreword was written by Kate Millett so it was more than enough for me.

Holder’s experiences and adventures with men are expressed in letters in a language that an average reader would call unsettling. Some sections can be said to border pornography and f-words are generously used, which LA Times referred to as intellectual erotica. Without being judgmental, based on the letters, one can call Maryse self-destructive and enigmatic. Her style is compared to Jean Genet and Henry Miller at the time. Like Roseann Quinn/Theresa, Maryse too paid the price of being ‘rahat’. She was murdered in Mexico at the age of 36 in 1977.

For a woman with a degree in literature from Cornell, the seventies sexual liberation movement must have triggered several ideas, probably along with expectations of some sort. However, at some point, Maryse’s anger turned to herself, as hinted by Kate Millett. I do share Millett’s regret that Maryse’s inferiority complex regarding her physical being could have been curable in women’s collectives or consciousness raising groups at the time. To Edith Jones, recipient of Maryse’s letters, Maryse describes her time in Mexico as her "vacation from feminism." Why would anyone need a vacation from feminism, and furthermore why bother with the patriarchy’s radical representatives, the machos of Mexican bars during this so called “vacation”? Millett’s reference of Mary’s self-destruction in regard to Janis Joplin is telling (ix).

According to Millett, most women have hard time to shake off the “guilt” of freedom and turn them into a self-destructive form, killing themselves factually or metaphorically. As a reader, I keep thinking “wow, the notion of sisterhood is indeed complicated.” In “Feminist Sexual Politics and the Heterosexual Predicament”, Lynne Segal describes the book as “gloomily absorbing” and finds it hard to decide whether it was Holder’s notion of feminism or her own predatory view of sex which was the more depressing. Even more dispiriting for Segal is “the fact that many feminists would confidently endorse Maryse Holder’s dual depiction of feminism as anti-heterosexual pleasure and heterosexual pleasure as anti-woman” (77).[i]

Janis Joplin, Theresa (Roseann in real life), and Maryse Holder’s choices to make themselves available to men probably was a way to cover their "unfitness" according to the beauty standards of the times (thus feeling insecure and unwanted). However, because they were smart women, ability to discern between the reasons why daily partners were around at any time took away the spiritual satisfaction. If only they could have tasted the empowerment and the comfort of being supported by other women friends or strangers who are sympathetic and compassionate under any circumstances! Millett laments that the nonjudgmental girlfriend Edith was not considered a potential partner, for instance. Being backed up by women’s solidarity is the cure for patriarchy's damage, and women who are aware of this solidarity and choose to extend it over never would feel weak or lonely. It saves one from sinking into many demoralizing and destructive relationships or moods.

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[i] Lynne Segal (1997). “Feminist Sexual Politics and the Heterosexual Predicament.” In: Segal L. (eds) New Sexual Agendas. Palgrave Macmillan, London.

“Wild Women” Representations_Part I

“Wild Women” Representations and The Costs of Being Untameable by Choice

This essay deals with the concept of “loose women” or in Turkish “serbest/rahat kadınlar” through an analysis of selected female characters’ representations created after the 1970s. Maryse Holder’s book Give Sorrow Words, Judith Rossner’s novel Looking for Mr.Goodbar and Lars von Trier’s film Nymphomaniac provide the context in which the main characters are compared. Normativity of single and free woman’s sexuality is reconstructed on a variety of levels including proposals on changes in daily language. Janis Joplin’s name and image recur as a nymphomaniac and a wild woman both in media and in the selected works for the essay. Despite its complexity, the notion of sisterhood remains an option in its inclusion of “loose women” and of women who are determined to survive in a patriarchal and heterosexual world, dealing with body-image and self-esteem issues.

==

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak /

whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it to break / Macbeth, Act IV, Scene III.

“I always demanded more from the sunset. That is perhaps my only sin.” Joe, the protagonist of Nymphomaniac

Let me begin with an explanation on language: “Serbest” in Turkish means “free” so in most cases it has a positive or neutral connotation except that when it is used in describing a woman or a young girl. If you cannot ever bring yourself to use swear words (bitch or whore,) or the attitudes that are associated with these two words, you may use “serbest”. Examples: “She is raised ‘serbest’, she comes from a ‘serbest’ family”. Although the word’s connotations may vary from one perceiver to the other, it means the following: She hangs out with guys without being monitored, she dresses tank tops, mini-skirts, shorts, maybe uses lots of makeup etc. It is likely that she doesn’t avoid drinking, flirting, or smoking and dancing in public. I suspect that for a conservative family whose women are all covered, the same word is used for another series of actions (which may not at all included in your bag of “serbest”).

            I celebrate essay as a hybrid form with no strict tradition of its own, thus allowing transparency and emotions along with cultivation of ideas and fact-based observations. To use Adorno’s words: “It evokes intellectual freedom” which I immensely value (3).^[i]

Janis Joplin once sang: Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose…

           The other word which is used interchangeably is “rahat” which means comfortable. When it is used to describe a woman, this one is even more mind-blowing. Could you guess that a “rahat” woman in Turkish means “too liberated”? As a child, not knowing this second, negative meaning of “rahat,” I focused on the literal meaning. When I overheard conversations of women in the family or among the neighbors, I carefully recorded the word and decided to put it into use in a naively proud manner as most children do. We didn’t have the imported phrase “free-lance” at the time. I was probably dreaming of an outdoors job where I can hang out in fresh air in a ‘rahat’ manner, and not spend my life inside office walls.

            One day, our primary school teacher asked ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’, I answered “I want to be a ‘rahat’ woman”. She did not laugh. In fact, she called my parents, once this career plan was made public. Then my mother told me that I should consider other future plans, and being a “rahat” woman is not a profession. Furthermore, it is not something that a good girl should aspire. Her tone implied that no further questions were to be asked at the time.

Now, as an adult woman, I ask myself how I should be responding if a 6-year-old girl tells me that she wants to be a “rahat” woman in the future because the word sounds so sympathetic. The opposite of rahat is rahatsız (1. uncomfortable, 2. ill) in Turkish. If someone is “rahatsız” you feel sorry for him/her regardless of gender.  

            Constructing an anti-mainstream language in any culture is challenging. Even when one dares the attempt, her audience is used to and is using the old language and thus cannot help contrasting, and measuring the acceptibility of the new language accordingly. As a consequence, what one may promote as novel or revolutionary is likely to get ‘lost in translation’ (yes, in the very same language) or understood by only a few. I realized however that whenever ‘serbest’ women’s stories are materialized for mainstream consumption, a happy end for them is rare. I don’t think it is a coincidence that ‘serbest’ woman is singled out, marginalized, and punished in a heterosexual system so that women in general and women’s sexuality in particular can be monitored. Can it be due to a concern of not creating bad role models by any chance, and thus better not to empathize with ‘wild women’ of any kind? Or is it because art is imitating life?

            I like to politicize and appropriate the term ‘wild women’ and change it into “untamed women” in a positive sense. It is my hope -utopic as it may sound- that both words gradually turn into compliments when used for women because these words are the opposite of imprisoned and uncomfortable as mentioned earlier.

            Most women in the modern world are not even aware of the matriarchal societies such as the one in  Bijagos Islands of West Africa.^[ii] Thus, their gender roles range from feeling like a loser to feeling guilty about assertiveness or leaving a relationship. We need to remember  how limited our vision of the world can be due to our socialization and the five senses that we are bound to in experiencing the world. There are always alternatives: One needs to be bold and have a Plan B.

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[i] Theodor W. Adorno, “The Essay as Form.” Notes to Literature. Trans. Sherry Weber Nicholsen. New York: Columbia UP, 1991. 3-4. 

[ii] See Leyla Assaf Tengroth's documentaries: “Our God is a Woman” and “Women’s Island”.

Field Work_Gaziantep Notes

After a smooth flight from Istanbul to Gaziantep, I took the shuttle to the city center, then a taxi whose driver was very grumpy to say the least, and boldly criticized the president and the sinking economy. After checking in to a room on the 4th floor, I looked out of the window to the piles of gray concrete buildings without any patch of green in sight. I felt cold, and realized that the A/C in the room was not working so I called to report the problem and went down to wait for Zizi. She moved to Gaziantep for work after a short episode in Istanbul and her detailed story can be found in Syrian Women Refugees. In January, she turned 40. 

Zizi was a bit late to the hotel but cheerful to see me after two years. In the back seat, her 11 year-old daughter Selin scanned me with her large and curious light blue eyes. I already knew a lot about her due to writing her mother’s life story for my book, but she probably didn’t know that. She could easily pass as a Scandinavian girl with her platinum blond hair and pale skin yet her Syrian ID and Turkish residency permit belie this impression quickly. She is only allowed to live in Gaziantep and needs permission to travel across cities even within Turkey. 

Selin has almost no recollection of Syria and speaks fluent Turkish. Her mother enjoys our quick bonding, and I know she is very proud of her two daughters. First, we go to a cafe that is run by Turks and Syrians. We can skip small talk since Zizi shared a lot with me already even after the book was out. There was a time she cut our communication off and today, she tells me why: “You reminded me of things that I was trying hard to forget. We Syrians want to begin a new life but it is almost impossible. I’ve been attending a therapy group in Istanbul, organized and funded by the Swedish Consulate, and it’s doing me good.” She shows me a picture of a Nordic-looking woman whose face radiates “like an angel,” in her words. I took her name since I may need her advice on vicarious trauma, a common issue experienced by hearing accounts of traumatic experiences.

The Eskici Cafe was huge,  lively with young men and women, and next to a kindergarten. Smoking bothered me a lot but since Zizi herself was a smoker, I didn’t say anything. It was also a shisha (water-pipe) place and restaurant. Over our coffee chat during which Selin intervened from time to time, Zizi mentioned her new job, how she could no longer suppress the urge to go back to NGO work, and this time, it involved more direct interaction with real people. Then she asked me whether I’ve heard of the movie “for Sama” and I said yes. I even shared that the trailer triggered something in me, and caught me off guard only a few days ago so I decided to postpone watching the documentary. “well…” she says, “the director is a very good friend of mine,” and shows me the pictures taken when she drove them to the airport for their flight to London last month, where Waad and her family now live, and that is where they flew to Hollywood for the Oscar Ceremony as “for Sama” was among the Best Documentary nominees. Zizi was proud with her friend, and told me how modest Waad remains, and sees the whole thing as an ‘opportunity’ to create more awareness with what has been going on in Syria.

Then, Zizi showed me the dress that Waad wore for the Oscars, a sharp and elegant political statement. As Zizi translated the Arabic script on the dress into English for me, her large green-blue eyes got teary but she was able to hold them. We simultaneously glanced at Selin who seemed oblivious to our conversation, fully immersed in her smartphone. Syrian children are used to their parents talking about ‘the situation’, and switching from a massacre story to the kind of crepe or waffle to choose on the menu (as we did!) in multiple languages. Syria is a vague motherland (‘vatan’ is a shared word in Turkish and Arabic) and Turkey is the concrete one that they go to school and socialize. Selin gives a big hug to the Turkish manager of the cafe who greets her by name, and they joke back and forth in Turkish. I order coffee with cardamom (kahwat al-hail) and because of my bad pronunciation it sounds like ‘coffee with hell’! Selin looks very confused, we all begin to laugh, and I can already tell that it will become an insider joke in coming years.

Another Revisit: Pelle The Conqueror (Highly Recommended)

Some films age beautifully like some women do. Pelle The Conqueror is one of them. I vaguely remember seeing it in a movie theater as a teenager and still carry a good feeling about it, but nothing else.  Now with this revisit after 30+ years, I wouldn’t hesitate to call it a masterwork (of Swedish director, Billie August) and I wish I could see it on a larger screen as I did in the past. It received the Best Foreign Language Film in 1989, and that probably explains why and how it made it all way to the Istanbul theaters.

The film is an adaptation of Martin Andersen Nexø’s novel. The main character Oscar nominee Max von Sydow who played the all-talk-little-action old father named Lasse died this spring. The little boy is played by Pelle Hvenegaard who continued with acting career if you google. In the movie, he is dreaming of living in America one day from the small Danish island where he lives under horrible poor conditions like most refugees today. The son and the father uproot themselves from their native Sweden at the turn of the 20th century in hopes of finding better work and save some money on the Danish island of Bornholm (so they are not refugees). I know it is hard to imagine this today that there had been quite some  waves of immigration and hardcore exploitation as a result within the Nordic countries before they became the most developed and built the best welfare system in the world. Even to challenge one’s stereotypes and make some sad temporal and special comparisons of poor Swedish immigrants, the movie is worth seeing.

The workers are paid near-slave wages to work on a farm by a very brutal boss with an owner that is driving his wife insane with his adulterous actions. As is the case with most child protagonists, Pelle acts as voyeur to many heated acts of lechery and genuine love; and witnesses the worst the human beings can do to each other. Despite the high number of characters to explore after the movie is over, Pelle the Conqueror always brings us back to the father-son dynamic, a constant source of compassion and deep disappointment.  In fact, I cannot think of any other movie which captures a series of disappointments with fathers that most boys experience and cannot express as a child so movingly and successfully. I feel there is something so universal that will touch many male viewers’ hearts and they won’t even be able to tell why. Pelle slowly turns to more forceful personalities on the farm whom he can look up to including one worker who speaks out against harsh treatment and low wages (but he pays the price for it).  I couldn’t help but constantly think of refugees today except that the faces in the movie are all pale and get very red, and hair color is blond or red.

It is a two-and-a-half-hour work, just so know and plan ahead. I post this recommendation particularly to the younger generation so that they can practice some attention-focusing and also appreciate the beauty of epic movies.

PS: If you like this movie, I also recommend Antonia’s Line and Babette. 

Fun fact: Berkeley’s BAMPFA's beautiful second floor café is named after the movie Babette.