Repentance and the Return to God: Tawba in Early Sufism Atif Khalil Albany: SUNY Press, 2018. 272 pages. If one does not repent, God will whet his sword. —Psalm 7:12 Repent … otherwise iniquity will be your ruin. —Ezekiel 18:30 Come, let us return to the Lord; for it is He who has torn, and He will heal us; He has struck down, and He will bind us up. —Hosea 6:1 He is gracious to those who turn in repentance to His law. —II Esdras 9:11 A tradition found in the Ṣaḥīḥ of Muslim (d. 875) states that the Prophet Muḥammad told his companions, “O people, turn to God in tawba. Verily, I engage in tawba with Him one hundred times a day.” Many similar reports are scattered throughout the ḥadīth corpus, with one pertinent tradition even stating that the Prophet went so far as to christen himself the nabī al-tawba, that is, the “prophet of tawba.” Of course, this spiritual concept plays no less an important role in the Qurʾān, with the word’s root t-w-b ap- pearing in the scripture eighty-seven times over sixty-nine verses. In light of all this, it is rather strange that no full monograph dealing with tawba has ever been published prior to the work being reviewed here. Thankfully, Atif Khalil’s remarkable Repentance and the Return to God: Tawba in Early Sufism—a meticulously researched study that is as profound and poignant in its insights as it is scrupulous and rigorous in its scholarship—goes a long way in filling this conspicuous “scholarly lacuna” (2) in Islamic studies. Khalil’s work focuses on “early Sufism,” here referring loosely to the period from the eighth through eleventh centuries. The book is divided into two main parts, with the former (comprising the first two chapters of the book) offering an analysis of the semantic field of tawba in view of how the word has traditionally been interpreted in the Islamic tradition. In 77 chapter 1—titled “Is Tawba ‘Repentance’?”—the author provides a masterly discussion on the legitimacy of rendering the Arabic term by that word which is most “commonly accepted as its equivalent” in English (13). Al- though this preliminary survey is primarily a lexicological study—one that analyzes “the meaning of tawba on the basis of a survey of the classical lex- icons” (23) and other relevant pre-modern sources, including the works of Khalīl b. ʿAyn (d. 776–791), Ibn Durayd (d. 933), Ibn ʿAbbād (d. 995), Ibn Fāris (d. 1004), al-Jawharī (d. 1007), al-Rāghib al-Iṣfahānī (d. 1060), Ibn Sīda (d. 1065), al-Zamakhsharī (d. 1144), al-Ṣaghānī (d. 1261), Ibn Manẓūr (d. 1311), al-Fayyūmī (d. 1368), al-Fīrūzābādī (d. 1413), and al-Zabīdī (d. 1790)—it is greatly enriched by Khalil’s method of approaching the titular matter from myriad points of view (including the theological and philo- sophical) prior to reaching a final position on the issue (6). In the second chapter, Khalil offers a rigorous study of the use of “taw- ba” specifically in the Qurʾān. It makes perfect sense to include such a sur- vey before the more specialized chapters, as “many of the issues brought up for discussion by the early Sufis had strong scriptural precedents” (6), with their discussions on tawba in particular being firmly grounded in the Qurʾān (cf. 23). A major analytical tool employed by Khalil in this chapter is the sprachliche Weltanschauungslehre technique developed by the Ger- man linguist Johann Leo Weisgerber and used most famously by the great Toshihiko Izutsu in his own studies of Islam’s sacred text. Consequently, this chapter strives to define the semantic field of the Qurʾānic use of tawba by way of “an internal analysis of the text” (23) in an Izutsian manner, all with the final aim of mapping “out the ethical and ontological worldview” (25) within which the concept of tawba operates in the scripture. To be more precise, Khalil explores the Qurʾānic understanding of tawba not in- dependently but, rather, in an open discourse with various related concepts such as iṣlāḥ (“rectification,” 27-31) and istighfār (“seeking forgiveness,” 31- 37), all the while providing painstakingly detailed analyses of the lexicolog- ical nuances of the Arabic roots from which we derive all these words and the ideas they entail. Thus, we are presented with insightful mini-studies of the roots gh-f-r (31-37), ʿ-f-w (41-42), ṣ-f-ḥ (42-44), r-d-d (47), ḍ-l-l (47), ẓ-l-m (47-48), n-d-m (49-51), r-j-ʿ (51-52), n-w-b (52-54), and a-w-b (54-56), along with overviews of the various tawba-related concepts to which they give rise. Impressive as all this is, perhaps the most notable thing about the second chapter is the skillful manner in which Khalil surveys the nature of what Book Reviews 78 The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 36:3 he calls “divine tawba” (see 32, 35-36, 44-46, 56, etc.), which is the type of tawba the Qurʾān attributes to God no less than thirty-four times—in fact, in more than a third of the total scriptural references to the word. Khalil’s thoughtful analysis of this type of tawba alone constitutes reason enough to purchase his book. By the end of chapter 2, Khalil explicates the close connection between human tawba and iṣlāḥ, the intimate connection between divine tawba and divine mercy, and how the concept of istighfār unites human and divine tawba. At the same time, the author also provides valuable remarks on the issues scholars face when translating certain words in the usual manner (see 57, where he discusses the problems with interpreting the notion of divine tawba as “forgiveness”, and 21 for the “relative adequacy” of interpreting human tawba as “repentance”). Lastly, it should be noted that Khalil’s use of the Izutsian analytical method in this chapter does not prevent him from referring to various classical and modern exegetes—including al-Ṭabarī (d. 923), Ibn al-Jawzī (d. 1201), al-Rāzī (d. 1210), al-Qurṭubī (d. 1273), al- Bayḍāwī (d. 1286), Ibn Kathīr (d. 1373), al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505), and Abdullah Yusuf Ali (d. 1953)—when he feels they may provide valuable insight to the discussion at hand. In this way, his study never operates in a vacuum devoid of references to the rich tradition of tafsīr. The second part of the book consists of five chapters dealing with early Sufi approaches to the idea of tawba. Chapter 3 surveys the different ways in which early ascetics and Sufis embodied the idea of tawba as a type of “interior conversion”—one through which the previously nominal or sinful believer was made fit to begin his or her path towards wilāya. Although Khalil explores this idea of “interior conversion” by way of surveying some of the most famous early Sufi tawba-narratives—such as those of Ibrāhīm b. Adham (d. 777-78) and al-Fuḍayl b. ʿIyāḍ (d. 803)—it is important to note that his objective in doing so is expressly not “to scrutinize or determine the veracity of these conversion narratives, which from a purely histori- cal perspective remain suspect, but to observe instead how the narratives were presented in the tradition” (8). In other words, his essential aim in this chapter is to “highlight the various ways through which the Sufi tradi- tion depicted the life-altering tawba and conversion experiences of some its most important early figures” (8). Although the classical lexical authorities often included the general concept of conversion within the semantic field of tawba (see 15 and 61), the author here deals specifically with the notion of converting to a deeper life in the faith (61). 79 The third chapter—rich in references to both early and late Sufi au- thors (including, among others, al-Sulamī [d. 1021], Abū Nuʿaym al-Iṣ- fahānī [d. 1037], al-Hujwīrī [d. 1071], al-Qushayrī [d. 1074], ʿAṭṭār [1220], Ibn ʿAṭāʾ Allāh [d. 1309], Jāmī [d. 1492], and al-Shaʿrānī [d. 1565])—ana- lyzes the notion of “interior conversion” by way of classifying the numerous hagiographic examples of this branch of tawba according to type. Thus, Khalil touches upon “interior conversions” brought upon through: (1) “an external admonition or word of kindness” (67-70), (2) “an internal admo- nition” (70), (3) “an act of compassion toward another” (70-72), (4) “an act of pious devotion to God” (72-73), and, finally, (5) “a miraculous call from on high or through a supernatural experience” (74). On these five types of hagiographic “interior conversions,” Khalil remarks: “The five categories should not be seen as water tight. In many instances, more than one of the factors is clearly at work in inducing the interior conversion” (75). The primary aim of this chapter—which is to present a useful, if not rigorous- ly binding, “taxonomy of tawba types in early Sufism” (75)—is realized in lucid fashion. Chapter 4—titled “The States, Stations, and Early Sufi Apothegma- ta”—is divided into two parts. The first of these further explores the idea of “tawba as a life-transforming alteration” (8) with reference to the Sufi con- ceptions of spiritual ascension or progression on the path, as these notions are embodied in the ideas of “the states (aḥwāl) and stations (maqāmāt)” (8) of the wayfarer. This first part is followed by a concise analysis of the role proverbs and wisdom sayings (ḥikam) “played in the transmission of early Sufi ideas, as well as what they reveal to us about early notions of taw- ba” (8). It is important to note that Khalil always begins his discussions of particular Sufi ideas with references to relevant Qurʾānic passages. Thus, we find him opening his analyses of both maqāmāt and manāzil by examining the Qurʾānic verses in which these and similar terms appear, despite their usage in the scripture often differing significantly from the standardized interpretations they would come to acquire in Sufi literature. On account of this “scripture-heavy” method of analysis, Khalil manages to demon- strate his substantial grasp of Arabic, with a good example of his linguis- tic-cum-analytic skills appearing where he provides a fine study of the Sufi concept of ḥāl (which does not appear in the Qurʾān) and the scriptural use of the verb ḥāla (79). In chapter 5, Khalil explores tawba in the thought of four key figures from the early period, namely al-Tustarī (d. 896), al-Kharrāz (d. 899), Ju- Book Reviews 80 The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences 36:3 nayd (d. 910), and al-Wāsiṭī (d. 936). Al-Kharrāz was chosen on account of the importance of his Kitāb al-ṣidq to tawba-related thought; Junayd due to the “central role he played in the theoretical formation of the early tradition” (despite us possessing “very few of his sayings on repentance,” 9); al-Tustarī by virtue of “the central place he assigned tawba in the spiritual life” (9); and al-Wāsiṭī because “his ideas of repentance represent the most theoret- ically sophisticated views of the subject from the early period with respect to the metaphysics of tawba” (9). Khalil subdivides this chapter into four parts, with each section focusing on one of the four Sufis and, in particular, on the specific aspect of tawba especially prevalent in that Sufi’s thought. Thus, the section on al-Kharrāz (97-100) deals with “the requirements of tawba” (97); that on Sahl (100-106) with “the obligatory nature of tawba” (100); that on Junayd (106-115) with tawba “as the forgetting of one’s sins” (106); and, finally, that on al-Wāsiṭī (115-119) with “tawba from the claim to act” (115). Khalil’s fundamental aim in this chapter—which is to “to get a deeper sense of the nature of the discussions and debates regarding tawba that were taking place in early Sufism” (119-120)—is well achieved, with his survey laying a suitable foundation for the last few chapters of the book. The sixth and seventh chapters deal, respectively, with the ways in which al-Hārith al-Muḥāsibī (d. 857) and Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī (d. 996) understood the idea of tawba. According to Khalil, the former’s most im- portant contribution to the Sufi tradition was the crucial “role he played in developing a science of moral psychology” (9), which in turn influenced his understanding of tawba (see 125-126). His thought—characterized by a practical Sufism “concerned not so much with mystical experiences” (9)— is given an independent chapter on account of his works offering a “rela- tively comprehensive treatment of tawba in the early period” (9). During the course of his study, the author dismisses the view of those academics who assert that al-Muḥāsibī was merely a “moralizing theologian” (125)—a view that reflects, according to Khalil, “an ignorance of the nature and scope of medieval Sufi literature” (125), which, he points out, was often more concerned with discussing practical, ethical, and moral virtues than describing ecstatic and mystical experiences. In response to those scholars who “de-Sufify” al-Muḥāsibī, Khalil argues that the contemplative can, in fact, be called a bona fide Sufi. Although he devotes only a few pages to this specific issue, one can actually read the entire sixth chapter as an implicit af- firmation of al-Muḥāsibī’s place within the Sufi tradition. One thing Khalil does not touch upon in this chapter is the extent to which later Ashʿarite 81 theologians (who often revered al-Muḥāsibī on account of his early use of kalām) were influenced by his work on tawba in particular. Both this issue and the matter of whether the Ḥanbalites ever found his writings on tawba useful—despite Ibn Ḥanbal’s (d. 855) seeming dismissal of him—are two interesting questions that warrant further research by scholars. The seventh and penultimate chapter (if we count the conclusion) offers an analysis of tawba in the thought of that man whom the staunch Ḥanbalite ḥadīth master al-Dhahabī (d. 1348) extolled as a “leader, ascetic, and gnos- tic, the shaykh of the Sufis” (145), namely Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī. According to Khalil, the thirty-second chapter of al-Makkī’s Qūt al-qulūb “represents the longest single sustained treatment of repentance, written from a Sufi per- spective, currently available to us from the first four centuries of Islam” (146). Khalil makes the perceptive assertion that the work may even be described as “something of a tafsīr in a different key” due to how deeply the Qurʾān is “in- terwoven” into the text. While he agrees with Alexander Knysh that the Qūt al-qulūb “simply brims with long-winded quotations” (148), Khalil suggests reasons for why the work’s structure makes perfect sense in the context of the era in which al-Makkī penned it. As both al-Muḥāsibī and al-Makkī have similar ways of focusing on the “practical concerns” and “moral psychology” of the spiritual path, there is considerable topical overlap between chapters six and seven. Even so, the seventh chapter never feels repetitive, as Khalil brings out the nuances and subtleties in al-Makkī’s thought (e.g., at 166-167, where he provides an insightful comparison between al-Makkī’s fourfold tāʾibūn classification system and al-Muḥāsibī’s threefold schema of the believers). The two chapters are all the richer for their dynamic engagement with Sufi works penned both before and after the main authors under consideration. Khalil’s book on “early Sufism” is, then, a study of roots—of intellec- tual seeds that would later sprout into trees of astonishing splendor and diversity a few centuries later. Tawba has always been a foundation stone of Islamic spirituality, yet our academic libraries were lacking a single solid English work on the matter. As such, we owe the author a deep debt of gratitude—not only for publishing the first monograph on the matter, but also for ensuring that this first work embodies all that is best about scholar- ship. Repentance and the Return to God: Tawba in Early Sufism represents a major service to Sufi studies. Imad Jafar MA student, Islamic Societies and Cultures School of Oriental and African Studies, London, UK Book Reviews