FIFTH CHAPTER · EIGHTH SECTION · Eighth Article
Eighth Article
The Ghawth al-Aʿẓam, the sublime shaykh Ismāʿīl Tillovī Faqīrullāh (may Allah have mercy on him),
concerning a thousandth part of the extraordinary unveilings (kashf) and saintly wonders (karāma) that issued from him spontaneously, without his will or knowledge.
O dear one! It should be known that when my late uncle Shaykh ʿAlī went to Tillo and saw my noble father, ʿUthmān Efendi, and I was honored to behold the blessed face of the Shaykh, one night he saw in a dream that the sky was filled with white sparrows, all of which swooped down upon the people. Those coming toward me were driven away by my father. However, one sparrow [359/b] found an opportunity and nestled under my right armpit. In the morning, when I told this to my father, he saw a sign of plague (taʿūn) under my armpit and was greatly distressed by this.
I lay unaware of everything for five days; on the sixth day, I opened my eyes and saw my noble father weeping. The Shaykh had come to my bedside. Like al-Khiḍr, he came to my aid, raised his hand and supplicated (dua) for my healing. At that very moment, my soul found life, my body found healing, and my qalb (the heart) found serenity. When he wiped his blessed hands over his face, he looked at my father with joy and gave him this glad tidings: “When Ibrāhīm’s affair was finished, Allah the Exalted revived him anew.”
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our second year with him is as follows: On one winter day, my father performed the ʿaṣr prayer with the Shaykh and was about to come to our room with me. There was a large pile of oak embers in the room’s hearth. The Shaykh, the mine of mercy, showed compassion to this servant of his and said, “Let Molla Ibrāhīm not be cold; bring embers to his cell.” In obedience to his command for the sake of Allah’s pleasure, my noble father went to the hearth, spread the hem of his cloak on the ground, and plunged both hands into the fire. But the Shaykh, seeing this, signaled to him to use an iron pan. I saw my father withdraw his hands and hem from the fire and take the embers with an iron pan.
When he came to the cell and was alone with me, it was time to resolve the perplexity that occupied my mind. I said to my father, “Does your hand not burn when you plunge it into the fire like that?”
He said, “My whole body was burned by the fire of ice five years before you were born.”
I said, “May that coldness, God willing, be inherited from father to son.”
He was pleased by this and likened the bodies of common people to an empty, dry clay jug placed over fire, and the bodies of the elect (khawāṣṣ) to a jug filled with frozen water.
I asked again, “Then why were you commanded to take the fire with an iron pan?”
He replied, “The Shaykh knew you were present there. To display acts that the people are incapable of is tantamount to selling oneself to the public. Therefore, to disregard this concealment in the presence of the Shaykh would be a breach of etiquette. Indeed, we have been instructed and signaled to cover and conceal extraordinary acts.”
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our third year is as follows: During the grape harvest in autumn, the governor of Van came with about a thousand soldiers and a cannon to the fortress (Kale) located four hours northeast of the Shaykh’s village, to besiege it against the Bey of Shirvān. On the fifth day of the siege, the Shaykh wrote him a letter: “Have mercy on the poor of the ummah of Muḥammad. Take your soldiers and leave before the vineyards are plundered. You may punish that rebellious bey at another time and in another way.” This blessed letter reached him at mid-morning. Alas, that pasha did not heed the true advice and made a grave mistake by not departing at once.
He insisted on taking the fortress, saying, “I have come by the sultan’s decree,” and continued firing the cannon. At that moment, the cannonball struck the fortress, split in two, and returned, killing the commander’s horse. Then a black cloud surrounded the army, and for about two hours, large hailstones fell, bringing their affairs [360/a] to an end. The horses and other pack animals scattered, and while their owners searched for them, floods from the mountains swept away all their tents.
At that time, the pasha came to his senses, mounted a horse, and with eight infantrymen, only after the ʿaṣr prayer, hastened to our room. He went with my late father to see the Shaykh, stood before him in awe, drenched in sweat. The Shaykh did not show him any favor but rebuked him, saying, “O oppressor, do you not fear the Lord of the Throne?”
That guest, trembling as if seized by fever, began to repent and seek forgiveness, and at my father’s signal, left the room. Then he came to our room, wiped his sweat, and was overwhelmed by the Shaykh’s awe. He swore, “I was a friend of the mighty Sultan Ahmed. Until today, I have never seen anyone as awe-inspiring as this noble Shaykh.” That night, he stayed awake with my late father and departed at dawn.
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our fourth year is as follows: In the autumn, we had spread about three hundred kile (a measure) of bulgur on the roofs of the houses. It was the twelfth night of the Hijrī month, and the moon was full. As the time for the night prayer (ʿishāʾ) on Friday evening approached, I ascended the minaret to call the adhān. I saw that clouds had covered the eastern side of our village. The men and women were hastily gathering their provisions from the roofs to protect them from the coming rain. After calling the adhān, I hurried to help gather our bulgur, only to find that the Shaykh’s children, grandchildren, and servants had gathered at the mosque’s door. I told them that people in the upper neighborhood were hurriedly gathering their provisions because rain was coming. They replied, “We were also gathering our provisions, but our Master forbade us. He told us, ‘Leave the bulgur and the rain. Go to the mosque and honor the night of Friday.’” Thereafter, we all went to the mosque’s portico and performed the night prayer in the open air.
At the end of the prayer, we raised our heads and saw that the clouds had parted and the moon had come toward the qibla. There was not a trace of cloud above the village, but black clouds surrounded it. Such a heavy rain fell that floods flowed from the surrounding villages. Allah the Exalted granted light to the people of the Shaykh’s village and honored His noble servant.
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our fifth year is as follows: On a summer Friday night, while my noble father was sitting in meditation (murāqaba), I lay down and slept. In my dream, I saw that more than a thousand cavalry and infantry soldiers had come to the threshing floor. They dismounted and all gathered in the square. Some of them appeared as shaykhs, others wore the garb of scholars. They were about twice the height of ordinary men. They left their ornaments and horses at the threshing floor and lined up in rows before the Shaykh’s door.
As I was watching this magnificent crowd, someone standing to the right of the room’s door immediately bent down and took me into his arms. Smiling, he embraced and kissed me, then handed me to the one on his left. That one also took me, kissed me with affection, and passed me to the one on his left. This continued until the eighth soul, who, after embracing and kissing me with affection, gently and mercifully set me down on the ground—since the room’s door was immediately to his left. At that moment, I found the door open and entered. I saw that eight venerable elders had entered the Shaykh’s cell. [360/b] That noble one, who would not rise for anyone in the world of forms, stood up for their sake, shook hands and embraced each one. While I was in awe of this scene, I awoke, and the delight of this dream added life to my soul.
I joyfully recounted this dream to my compassionate father, who was sitting on the prayer rug. It turned out that he, awake and with spiritual insight, knew the meaning of this dream. This vision had come to him as a spiritual reality, and he had witnessed what transpired and heard the words spoken in that assembly. My late father cautioned me, “Although this dream concerns matters of the unseen for you, do not mention anywhere that it was revealed to your father, for to disclose this is considered blameworthy among the spiritual beings.”
When morning came and the Friday prayer was performed, and it was between the two prayers, I was standing at the door when I saw a gray-bearded sayyid on a gray horse coming from Siirt. I had not seen him until he dismounted and kissed my hand. Yet he recognized me and knew the door of the lodge. When he sent me inside with his gift to seek permission to visit the harem, the doors were opened for him. He entered with me, greeted the Shaykh, and the blessed one replied, “And peace be upon you and the mercy of Allah, welcome.”
He was told to sit, and the Shaykh’s first words were, “O Sayyid Ḥamza, we had many guests this Friday night.” At these gracious and kind words, Sayyid Ḥamza was astonished. After sitting and weeping for a while, he kissed the Shaykh’s prayer rug and came with me to our room.
He told my late father what had happened and said, “I am Sayyid Ḥamza from the notables of Siirt. I have reached this age and never before seen this village. I had not been granted the opportunity to visit this Shaykh until this night, when I mingled with about five hundred radiant horsemen and five hundred tall, saintly infantrymen near Siirt. That night, I joined them and came to visit this noble one. I knew the way to this village because I saw it in a dream.
When the saintly soldiers reached the threshing floor, they all dismounted and entered the courtyard of the lodge. They lined up in rows facing the doors. In turn, they all entered the Shaykh’s cell to visit him. My turn came with the infantry. At the right of the cell door, I saw this child in the arms of the saint who was standing guard, being passed from one to another. When the last saint, standing by the door, set him down, he entered the lodge through the open door. Just as I was about to enter, I awoke, and my heart was filled with the sweetness of iman (faith).
Thus, after this dream, today, after performing the Friday prayer, I mounted my horse and set out on the road I saw in my dream. Without asking anyone, I found this village and lodge and recognized you all. I came to the Shaykh’s presence to recount this dream. From this day on, I wish to be his murīd (aspirant, disciple) and love him. Yet, before I could recount what had happened, he informed me, saying, “O Sayyid Ḥamza, we had many guests this Friday night.”
“When he said this, I was astonished. Subḥānallāh, how could this man know my name and who I am? How could what I saw in my dream be manifest to him?”
To Sayyid Ḥamza’s astonishment, our late father replied, “The very dream you saw, my son also saw. But what the common people see as a dream, the elect among the awliyāʾ (friends of God) attain by direct witnessing. For Allah the Exalted bestows a special favor upon every servant.”
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our sixth year [361/a] is as follows: On a spring day at mid-morning, a mad bey came with about thirty men to visit my noble shaykh. He entered the lodge’s door without hesitation, stood, smiled, and greeted the Shaykh with joy. Without any awe, he said to the noble one, “My beautiful soul! I wondered where I might find you, and here you are. How could I have stayed away? For Allah’s sake, please stand up so I may see your stature. Then I will gladly sacrifice this sweet soul of mine for you.” Upon these words, the sultan of generosity immediately stood up. The mad bey fell at the Shaykh’s feet and was overcome.
The Shaykh signaled to his men and said, “Take this guest emir to his room and cover him well. Let him sleep for a while so he may recover his senses.”
That madman, who had not slept for sixty days, slept for six hours under six quilts. When his sleep reached six hours, they called me from the harem section of the lodge. When I arrived, I saw that our noble mother had brought a plate of dried, large, red grapes. The Shaykh turned the dried grapes with his blessed hand, recited over them, and blew upon them. He commanded this servant, “Go, sit by the head of the sleeping guest. When he wakes, give him whatever he asks for. Take it to him at once.”
When I arrived, he awoke and said, “I want the red grapes that were in the Shaykh’s hand.” I immediately informed the Shaykh, took the plate of grapes, and brought it to the guest. Upon seeing the grapes, he immediately took them from my hand, filled his mouth, chewed and ate them well. When the grapes were finished, he stood up, performed ablution, and was healed.
That madman, who had not prayed for sixty days, began to pray so fervently that he spent the night with my late father, reviving the night in worship. At the time of the ḍuḥā prayer, he was about to leave and came to bid farewell to the Shaykh. However, he did not dare enter the room, his heart filled with awe for the noble one. Out of respect, he did not even dare look inside, but stood at the threshold, kissed the doorstep of the lodge with joy, and set out on his way. For his senses had returned, and he now knew who the one he had called “my beautiful soul” the previous day truly was.
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our seventh year is as follows: In the summer, an old man named Shaykh ʿAlī Efendi of Ṣihrānī came with fifty-two murīds (aspirants, disciples)—without a pilgrimage leader—from the Kaʿba and met the Shaykh at the time of the ḍuḥā prayer.
He neither greeted nor spoke nor shook hands. He immediately approached and sat in the Shaykh’s presence with etiquette, lowered his head in silence, and remained thus until the ẓuhr prayer. After performing the prayer, he again took his leave without greeting or speaking and came to our room. Again, without greeting or speaking, he sat cross-legged in silence with my late father in meditation (murāqaba) until the ʿaṣr prayer. My late father showed great respect and served him with honor.
At sunset, when the old man sat at the table to break his fast, he took either a single bite or a taste of each dish. That night, he again sat in silence in our room, remaining alone with my late father in the moonlight. Surely, they immersed themselves in the ocean of unveiling (mukāshafa) until morning. At dawn, the venerable guest went to see the Shaykh, sat silently for a while, and when he rose, the Shaykh stood up to pray for him.
After the supplication, he kissed the Shaykh’s blessed hand and, walking backward, left his presence. Out of respect for the Shaykh’s standing up for him, we all kissed the old man’s hand. We mounted him on his horse and escorted him with honor to the edge of the threshing floor. After bidding us farewell, he set out with his murīd disciples. When we returned from seeing him off, I said to my father, “What kind of guest is this, that he received more honor and respect than anyone else?”
He replied, “This guest cannot be compared to the others. He is perfect and a man of heart among the elect of the awliyāʾ (friends of God). His spiritual state (ḥāl) is close to that of our Master, who is the most select of the select. He is a person capable of spiritual advancement.”
For he said, “For a long time, I have traveled and wandered the world. I have seen many settlements, villages, and towns. For fifty years, I have visited the living awliyāʾ of the age. I have seen, in the spiritual assembly, saints unknown to the people outwardly. I have seen that this noble one is closer to Allah, possesses generosity, and is among the spiritual poles. Now I have seen that the blessed body of this noble one burns with the fire of love. For when I came to his lodge and saw his blessed face, I saw my heart manifestly with my own eyes. Thus, my fifty-year journey has ended, and I have attained my desire.”
I said to my late father, “When did this guest, who never spoke, say such effective and beautiful words?”
He replied, “We conversed with the light that shines when our hearts meet face to face. He has spoken many other words of wisdom as well.”
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our eighth year is as follows: There was a devoted friend of the Shaykh among the people of a village three hours away in a valley. In his vineyard grew a type of black grape called misbak, which ripened twenty days earlier than the grapes in other vineyards. When the grapes began to ripen, this loyal friend had made it a custom every year to bring the first basket of grapes as a gift to the Shaykh. However, that year, he came a week later than usual.
Because of his delay, he apologized to the source of generosity, saying, “My Shaykh, please excuse me. As usual, while bringing the first grapes from our vineyard to you, my friend the village shepherd came across my path. It so happened that he knew I was coming to you. He said, ‘Let us rest by this stream for an hour and converse. For the sake of your parents, give us two bunches of grapes to eat.’ I made many excuses not to accept his request, but he insisted greatly. In the end, I had to give in. (Our conversation lasted long, and he ate) up to half of the grapes in the basket. Then he turned to me reproachfully and said, ‘God has given you wealth, but not sense. Is it wise to neglect your own children and give your property, with such effort, to those who are not worthy?
Being a shaykh is not so easy; it is a difficult task. How do you know he lacks grapes?
My dear, heed my words and give the remaining grapes to this poor man, so the reward may reach your parents’ souls.’ Saying this, he took all the remaining grapes. I took the empty basket and turned back. As I was halfway up the slope from the stream, I heard cries of ‘Help! Help!’ Looking down, I saw the shepherd’s own dog had pinned him down, its fangs [362/a] at his throat. I rushed to rescue the shepherd from his dog. But later, he became rabid and met his fate. I informed the villagers and procured some medicines, and after a while, he recovered. However, this kept me from my service for a week.
The Shaykh accepted his friend’s excuse and prayed for him, saying, ‘May Allah grant you goodness and blessings. Whoever’s work is for Allah’s sake, his helper is only Allah.’
One of the saintly wonders (karāma) that occurred in our ninth year is as follows: An old man named ʿAbbās, a relative of the Shaykh, came to his presence. I saw that his mouth was twisted up to his left ear. The skin on the left side of his face was so wrinkled between his lip and ear that it was indistinguishable, while the skin on the right side was stretched tight and shiny like a drum left in the sun. He could speak, but his words were unintelligible.
When our Shaykh, the source of mercy, saw his condition, he wept in sorrow and wiped his face with his blessed hand. Then he raised his hands and supplicated Allah. After reciting al-Fātiḥa, the distortion of his mouth was corrected and returned completely to its former state. Then the man spoke, saying, ‘O Shaykh, forgive me, for I have wronged you. Last night, I spoke ill of you in your absence. When I fell asleep, I was struck by an unseen blow that left my mouth in this state.’ After saying this, he prostrated in repentance.
The possessor of divine wisdom, the great one, forgave this grave error, saying, ‘As for your wrong against us, we have made it lawful for you, and may Allah grant you hudā (guidance). Beware of backbiting anyone, for a believer’s backbiting of his brother is categorically forbidden by clear proofs. And beware of backbiting us, for the owner of this weak servant is Allah, “the All-Powerful, the Avenger of the guilty” (See: Āl ʿImrān 3:4).’
The tenth of the Shaykh’s reported saintly wonders (karāma) is as follows: One day, a pious, learned, and legally knowledgeable ḥāfiẓ from a village an hour away from his place of worship came to debate the Shaykh. He first said, ‘O Shaykh, why do you not come to the mosque?’
That ocean of courtesy replied, ‘O ḥāfiẓ, this lodge was built with the intention of being a mosque, and here, as in mosques, we consider it reprehensible to speak worldly words.’
He asked again, ‘Why do you not seek the reward of praying in congregation?’
He replied again with a gentle and sweet manner, ‘At all five times, I perform the obligatory prayers in congregation with my children and friends.’
He asked again, ‘Why do you not respond to the muḥammadan adhān?’
He replied again with kindness, ‘The minaret of this mosque is but a stone the size of a brick, and we call the adhān on it at all five times and respond to it. For the Friday prayers, we go to the mosque.’
He asked again, ‘You cannot attain the reward of a large congregation.’
He replied again with a smile, ‘If it were not for the incident of the well, which prevents me from going out, I would consider it a blessing and a bounty to join the large congregation, as in former times. I have an excuse; perhaps Allah the Exalted will not deprive me of that reward. For “the intention of the believer is better than his deed,” as is reported in the tradition [190].’
Thus, the ḥāfiẓ, not knowing his place, received his answer and left. That night, he went home and slept, and in the morning, found that he had completely forgotten the Qur’an and his knowledge of jurisprudence. The second night, he forgot how to perform ablution and prayer. The third night, he lost his sight and was left in darkness. On the fourth day, bewildered, he took two or three men with him, mounted his horse, and hastened to the Shaykh’s door.
When the Shaykh, the source of mercy, saw that the ḥāfiẓ was blind, he wept in sorrow and prayed for him. When he wiped his blessed hand over his eyes [362/b], his sight returned and the darkness left him. The ḥāfiẓ, embarrassed, apologized.
The Shaykh, the source of mercy, did not reproach him but praised him instead: ‘You spoke the truth, in fact. You spoke rightly, enjoined good, your efforts are praiseworthy, and your zeal is blessed,’ thus consoling and comforting him.
The ḥāfiẓ, repenting of his actions, spent that night in our room. When he awoke in the morning, he had been restored to his former state and found that he remembered everything he had forgotten. Thus, he was delighted and content, praised and thanked Allah the Exalted, prayed for the Shaykh, and wiped his face and eyes on the threshold of the lodge. Then he returned to his village on foot.
Although Faqīrullāh, being a mine of uprightness, attained the station of succession (khilāfa) as the source of many more saintly wonders (karāma), the wonders enumerated above have sufficed to conquer the hearts of the people of love. For the murīd (aspirant, disciple) who is annihilated in the love of his shaykh attains the Muḥammadan light and reaches the station of fanāʾ fī’Llāh (annihilation in Allah).
Verse
1-The one annihilated in poverty (faqr) says: I am the Jam (gathering) of the world. The Emir says: I am the shepherd-slave of that Jam.
2-The poor one says: I am the shining sun in the world. The Sultan says: I am the hidden shadow of that sun.
3-The Sultan says: In this age, I rule over land and sea. The poor one says: I am the king of the eternal realm.
4-The Sultan says: I am accepted among all people. The poor one says: I am the sultan of hearts, my sweet soul.
5-The poor one says: I am freed from the world’s affliction. The Sultan says: I am the target of the arrows of tribulation.
6-The poor one says: Death is honey and sugar to me. The Sultan says: I am truly afraid of death.
7-The poor one says: What account will I have on the Day of Judgment? The Emir and the True One say: I am in doubts with that sorrow.
In contemporary Turkish
1—He who is annihilated in faqr says: I am the Jam (gathering) of the world. The Emir says: I am the shepherd-slave of that Jam.
2—The poor one says: I am the shining sun in the world. The Sultan says: I am the hidden shadow of that sun.
3—The Sultan says: In this age, I rule over land and sea. The poor one says: I am the king of the eternal realm.
4—The Sultan says: I am accepted among all people. The poor one says: I am the sultan of hearts, my sweet soul.
5—The poor one says: I have shed the world’s affliction. The Sultan says: I am the target of the arrows of tribulation.
6—The poor one says: To me, death is honey and sugar. The Sultan says: I am truly afraid of death.
7—The poor one says: What account will I have on the Day of Judgment? The Emir and the True One say: I am in doubts with that sorrow.