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1.
The concept of the saviour [mahdaviyat] is a subject about
which our religious community can reflect at length. The idea is
woven into the warp and woof of our people’s religious lives;
whether today, when we claim to have a religious and Islamic state,
or before the revolution, when the state was not religious and the
ulema and religious leaders sat in their own places in strength and
had followers and adherents. In both situations, the presence and
evocation of the Hidden Imam were plainly discernible. The pious
people of our country see religious leaders as the deputies of the
12th Imam and esteem them for this reason. The people
pay a part of their assets and revenues to them each year, and
believe that these funds belong to the Hidden Imam by right. They
believe that a fifth of their assets belongs to a person who is not
observable in society today - but who is really present in the world
– and that his deputies take these funds from the people in his name
and by his command and spend them on causes that have his approval.
[The Mahdi (saviour) or the Hidden Imam is the 12th
Shi’i Imam, who is believed to be in occultation and is to return
one day to establish the reign of justice on earth.]
The Shi’i community has lived with and been enlivened by
this belief for centuries. And the belief continues to be held
firmly today. The rulers of the Islamic state, for their part,
believe this of themselves; they believe that they are sitting in
the 12th Imam’s place, that they are ruling in his name
and that they command the people as his deputies. They base their
entire legitimacy on the legitimacy of the Hidden Imam. They
believe that, just as Shi’is submitted to the Imams when they were
present, so too must they submit to their deputies now and consider
their words to be the words of the Hidden Imam. And, in order to
prove their case, they present arguments based on Islamic
jurisprudence [henceforth fiqh] and religious narratives.
In the light of this presence and influence, studying
the concept of the saviour is an obvious duty for thinkers,
sociologists and theorists of religion. No idea has been as
influential and potent in our society as that of the occultation of
the Imam.
If you look at the political theories of Shi’i jurists [henceforth
faqihs], you will see the question of the occultation very
clearly. After the demise of the 11th Imam, the Shi’is
were afflicted with bewilderment for a time. The theory of the
Imamate told them that there must always be an Imam present in
society and that they basically existed to run society and to guide
people to the right path. Hence, as far as they were concerned, an
Imam who was in occultation was an unknown and undefined notion.
This is why, for about a century, a situation existed in the Shi’i
community that Shi’i historians and historians of Islam have
described as the period of bewilderment. During this period, a new
theory of the Imamate gradually grew in the Shi’i community. The
main substance of this new theory was that there was no need for the
Imam to be physically in the midst of the people; it is enough for
him to keep an eye on them and assist them. This was how the idea
of the Hidden Imam was born. The Hidden Imam is in fact a hidden
guardian [wali] who is with the people and among the people.
He has a real presence in the minds of believers and Shi’is.
Without showing himself to the people, he acts as the mediator of
divine grace. And one day he will appear.
Be that as it may, the idea of the saviour is not unique to Shi’ism
and Islam; it is one of the mysterious concepts and notions of
religions in general. True, the concept of the saviour plays a
fundamental and pivotal role in Shi’i culture, but it is by no means
confined to this creed. In particular, if we view the concept of
the Imamate as the manifestation of divine guardianship, it will be
seen to have a much longer history and record. In general, mystics
consider “wali” to be one of God’s names or attributes;
hence, this divine name has always been present and manifest in the
world. “Nabi” [prophet] is not one of God’s names, but “wali”
is one of God’s names and always has a manifestation in the world.
At times, there have been prophets in the world and, at times, there
have not. But wilayat [guardianship] cannot cease; it is
eternal and historical.
2. Despite the longevity of the concept of the saviour in the
history of religious ideas, the subject of my discussion is
specifically the concept of the saviour in Islam. I must begin by
explaining some of the assumptions and premises of the discussion.
The first point is that I do not intend to deal with the
theological questions pertaining to the notion of the saviour.
Questions such as, “How can anyone live so long?”, “How can an
individual single-handedly bring about tremendous events in the
world?”, “Why does an individual with a global mission of this kind
belong to the Muslims alone?”, etc. do not concern me here. They
are all considered to involve intra-religious debates. My stance in
discussing the concept of the saviour is an extra-religious stance.
Secondly, I will try to examine the notion of the
saviour from a specific perspective and in the light of a specific
issue. The specific issue is the relationship between this notion
and the subject of religious revival. On this basis, the framework
of my discussion here is the historical context of religious revival
and religious matters, including the saviour.
We know that, in our times, some religious intellectuals
have tried to give a different meaning to the idea of the saviour
and to look at it from another angle. One of these angles was the
one that the late Dr Shariati chose and espoused. His famous speech
“Awaiting: The Religion of Protest” was the marker to his thinking
on this subject. Shariati said that one of the most important
reasons and motivations for a revolution is dissatisfaction with the
status quo. If someone is satisfied with the way things are, they
will not opt for change and revolution. The late Shariati wanted to
present Islam as a revolutionary religion. He therefore used
religious teachings, including Shi’i teachings, to this end.
Shariati believed that awaiting the saviour meant precisely
protesting against the status quo. If you are waiting for a saviour,
it means that you long to see a rescuer and redeemer who will change
the way things are. This rescuer also has the backing and approval
of God, so he cannot go wrong.
As you can see, Shariati’s reading set aside and
absolutely dispensed with all the theological questions about the
saviour’s personality and all the true, half true and false stories
and myths that are told about him. Instead, a single notion is
extracted from it and placed in the service of a revolution. It is
clear that, in studying the concept of the saviour, Shariati is
interested in its practical and functional aspect. However, my
research into this concept can be understood in the framework and
context of religious revival.
3. The work and path of prophets have a particular
feature that essentially distinguishes them from their followers’
work and path. Of course, this difference is inevitable and cannot
be remedied. The difference is that prophets and founders of
religions start at the top and then descend, whereas their followers
have to start at the bottom and gradually work their way upwards.
In other words, prophets and founders of religions first attain the
cause and, then, this cause gives birth to and produces certain
effects. But their followers encounter the effects and try to
attain the cause via these effects. In order to clarify the
distinction I must draw on Mowlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi. He says:
“You are joy, we are laughter / the product of an auspicious joy”.
Joy is the cause and laughter is the effect. Sorrow is the cause
and tears are the effect. A person is filled with joy and elation;
then, he breaks into laughter helplessly and unaffectedly. But
there are times when a person makes himself laugh so that he can
eventually become joyful and elated. He goes to a happy
get-together and sits among gleeful people so that a little bit of
the joy and elation can seep into him. But, in these circumstances,
even if he becomes truly filled with joy, the movement has been from
effect to cause; that is to say, starting from the bottom and
moving upwards. However, becoming joyful and elated and, then,
laughing is to start from the top and move downwards; it is
movement from cause to effect. This holds true of prophets.
Prophets first attained an experience. God, the hidden world and
the truth of this world appeared to them in a mysterious way, and
they suddenly found themselves facing an invasive, boundless truth.
Thereafter, the prophet’s prophetic personality was born. The
encounter was astounding and character shaping. Prophets have
reported that they suddenly found themselves before an incredibly
skillful, penetrating and engulfing teacher. Not only have they been
transformed themselves, but they have felt compelled to share this
light with others. Prophets have undergone this situation to
varying degrees. But the basis, nature and essence has more or less
always been the same.
We cannot penetrate any further into this event. It is merely by
seeing its products and external results that we understand that a
rare occurrence of this kind has happened to some very exceptional
individuals in the course of history. Once this pupil rises to his
feet after the encounter with that skillful teacher and finds
himself transformed, he feels that his previous life has become
impossible. A person’s life is in keeping with their inner state.
When someone is altered essentially, existentially and
intrinsically, their demeanour naturally changes. This changed life
is the product of those experiences that the individual has
undergone. Changed conduct is the result of change in a person’s
psyche. Every prophet or mystic has spent time awake in the dead of
the night. Conduct of this kind has never been dutiful. This is
movement from cause to effect. Hafez says: “Prayer beads and
ascetic’s robes will ne’er inebriate you / pray to the wine master
for perseverance to this end.”
These great men used to go to the wine master first and, once they
had sipped from that jug and become inebriated, then they acquired
an inebriated demeanour. This inebriated demeanour was totally
natural and unaffected. All the words, injunctions and acts that
they presented were a product of their new personality.
But when prophets entrust their religion to their followers, the
situation changes. As I said, this change is inevitable and no one
can remedy it. For the Prophet, things would begin from causes and
then arrive at effects. But when he imparted his teachings to people
and, for example, told them that they should perform their prayers,
fast, not drink wine, not overeat, to rise in the dead of the night,
etc., it was so that people would have those spiritual experiences,
understand the truths of the other world and ascend the ladder of
closeness to God. The Prophet first attained certain states of
being and, after attaining those states of being, these injunctions
issued forth from him. But he called on his followers to carry out
these injunctions in the hope that they could attain those states.
In other words, we step onto the ladder of effects in the hope that,
one day, we can reach that cause.
Religions began from the kernel for prophets and the outer shell was
laced around the kernel. But when the religions reached their
followers, they began from the outer shell and tried to pierce the
shell in the hope of reaching the kernel. And in most cases they
never did reach it. This is what religion’s shell, which is
mentioned so often by mystics, means. From the start, religion’s
shell was meant to protect the kernel. It basically had a
protective role. But when the kernel was forgotten and the shell
became the principal thing, even the shell lost its value.
4. As I have said elsewhere, there are three types of religiosity:
utilitarian-pragmatic religiosity, gnostic religiosity and
experiential religiosity. Each of these types of religiosity has
its own particular approach to and interpretation of religious
matters, such that when we step beyond the realm of pragmatic or
utilitarian religiosity, our definition and interpretation of
religion changes. For example, in dealing with Ashura [10th
day of the month of Muharram on which Imam Hussein’s was martyred],
Shi’is’ mythical, mystery-ridden utilitarian religiosity was of the
view that Imam Hussein was an otherworldly being and that the events
in Karbala occurred on the orders of hidden forces. On Ashura, when
people lifted stones off the ground, they would find fresh blood
underneath and angels came to Imam Hussein’s aid. And anyone who
weeps over Imam Hussein, is bound for heaven. And so on and so
forth.
All of this placed Imam Hussein in a halo of mysteries and
otherworldly and mythical forces, which is extremely attractive to
the myth-loving type of believer. Our fathers and mothers wept
over this Imam Hussein for centuries, saw him surrounded by a halo
of mysteries and envied God’s affection for him.
But utilitarian religiosity’s approach to Imam Hussein gradually
gave way to gnostic religiosity’s way of thinking. In the present
age and century, religious thinkers and intellectuals have gradually
set aside that former approach to Imam Hussein’s uprising and have
turned to the gnostic interpretation. Inevitably, new questions
also arose: Who was Imam Hussein and what caused his opposition to
the Umayyads? Why did he not make peace with them? Why did he not
make peace with Yazid as his brother had done with Mu’awiyah? Why
did he enter into war? Why did he go to the desert of Karbala? Why
did he not accept their proposals? What preceded this act? What
were its consequences? What did it mean politically? What was Imam
Hussein’s motive? And so on.
In the gnostic interpretation of Imam Hussein’s uprising, there is
absolutely no mention of where the angels were and what the jinn
did. Instead, there is a totally historical interpretation of a
political act and it is analysed and examined. This process has
continued since the time of Ibn Khaldun in the 14th
century to our day, when Shi’is have engaged in historical-political
analyses of that uprising.
As to experiential religiosity’s way of dealing with Imam Hussein’s
uprising, we can see it in Mowlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi’s approach.
Rumi considered Imam Hussein’s act to be a pure act of devotion and
love. In Rumi’s reading, Imam Hussein was someone who broke through
the cage of the body to achieve the flight of the soul. Far from
seeing Imam Hussein’s fate as a cause for mourning, he believed it
was pure felicity and joy; far from being a misfortune, it was
salvation itself. This was why he called on the followers and
devotees of Imam Hussein to look at this event and see how a sultan
and a king had escaped captivity and attained the heaven of
freedom. What Rumi is saying is: Look at this act of love and
participate in it with him.
5. The subject of the saviour has also been approached in three
different ways by the three types of religiosity. That is to say,
this idea, too, has been dealt with in a utilitarian, mystery-ridden
way; in a gnostic way; and in an experiential way. The
mystery-ridden, utilitarian approach – whether otherworldly or
this-worldly – is the one that is still in force in our society
today. In this approach, the mythical aspects of the concept of the
saviour are preserved and, in the context of analysis or
explanation, the concept is always viewed in terms of its celestial
aspect and everything gains its meaning in this celestial light.
This kind of approach generates certain rites and rituals in
practice, and the manifestation of these rites and rituals can still
be seen in the beliefs of the bulk of the people. Although some of
the observable manifestations have declined, others still exist.
In my opinion, the Hojjatieh Society is a manifestation of the
mythical interpretation of the concept of the saviour and the 12th
Imam. Their presentation of this subject centred wholly around the
mystery-ridden interpretation of the saviour and the occultation.
Even faqihs’ approach to the subject of the saviour and the
Imam’s occultation can be viewed as that same kind of utilitarian,
mystery-ridden and mythical interpretation. People who consider
themselves the deputies of the 12th Imam, interfere in
the affairs of Shi’is in his name and believe that they have certain
prerogatives consider themselves to have these rights in view of the
fact that they are his deputies. It would be appropriate for me to
point out here that, if the mysteries and myths are removed from the
sphere of religion, religion would turn into a human, rational,
secular and this-worldly school of thought, and ultimately lose its
celestial aspect for its devotees. Hence, this element will never
cease to be. At the same time, clerics are basically considered to
be the protectors and guardians of the mythical elements of
religion. In general, when believers turn to clerics, they do not
expect to hear gnostic or experiential explanations; in the main,
they expect to hear about the mystery-ridden and mythical aspects of
religion. Moreover, no religion can be wholly reduced to its
non-mythical elements. Every part of religion, whether it is
ethics, theology or even fiqh, is mystery-ridden to some
degree and cannot be made absolutely conventional and demystified.
Of course, by myths, I do not mean nonsense, superstition or fairy
tales; what I mean is precisely those parts of religion that cannot
be completely understood, unravelled or proved by analytical or
empirical reason.
At any rate, belief in the supernatural factor is one of the pillars
of religious thought. It may even be the case that the
distinguishing feature between religion and human schools of thought
is that, in religious thought, belief in facets beyond sensory ones
is assumed and the existence of non-sensory layers and levels, which
are mystery-ridden, is definite and certain. Of course, identifying
which mysteries and myths in the realm of religion are true and
correct and which are superstitions is another matter which falls
under first order knowledge and I do not intend to discuss this now.
With the arrival of modern times and Iranian society’s entry into
the modern age, changes came about in our society’s religious and
intellectual climate, including interest in the
scientific-historical view of religion and religious teachings. In
this way, the gnostic interpretation and approach replaced the
mystery-ridden, utilitarian approach. It goes without saying that
the concept of the saviour also came under scrutiny from the gnostic
standpoint. To this end, in explaining the idea of the saviour,
Shi’is do not rely only on religious narratives and accounts; they
try instead to render this idea pleasing and acceptable to reason;
to extract a political and social message from it; and to turn it
into a concept that has a resonance for human beings today.
As I said earlier, Shariati’s efforts at reinterpreting the concept
of the saviour is a prominent example of the gnostic approach to
religious subjects. Shariati tried to present a cohesive analysis
that was in keeping with his own intellectual framework and modern
wisdom. He was of the view that the latent message of the idea of
the saviour is that we must always protest against the status quo.
This was in fact an alternative version of the theory – propounded
by faqihs - that, during the time of the occultation, the
state constitutes usurped power. However, Shariati increased the
revolutionary implications of the theory. Faqihs saw others
as usurpers but they did not take any action themselves. But, on
Shariati’s reading, having decided that others are usurpers, it
becomes necessary for us to depose them. Hence, it is possible to
extract the message of “revolution” from the concept of the saviour.
In effect, what Shariati did was to carry out a kind of social and
religious pathology, because one of the ills that Shi’i society had
become afflicted with was inaction. The general belief was that
believers’ problems and difficulties would be resolved with the
appearance of that spiritual redeemer; a belief that led to
passivity. In order to address this affliction, some reformers used
the gnostic approach to present a reason-pleasing reading of the
idea of waiting for the saviour. In gnostic religiosity, there is
absolutely no engagement with mythical issues and historical,
theological details; more than anything, the aim is to present the
concept in a modern, rational and fruitful guise that bears a
message for human beings today.
But what then is the experiential approach? I consider it
imperative to explain something by way of a preface to this question
in order to shed light on the foundations of the experiential
approach. The concept of the saviour is a kind of a philosophy of
religious history. We can have a religious or a non-religious view
of history. The religious view of history in fact interprets
history as if everything comes from the hidden world and returns to
the hidden world. The design, planning and supervision of all its
events are undertaken by God and nothing occurs without plan or
purpose. In effect, the entire course of history is like a scroll
that is gradually being unravelled. Religious history is a history
that is only examined because and to the extent that God is
manifested within it and other historical issues remain entirely
outside the sphere of research and investigation. The bulk of our
history books written before the modern age of historiography have
this quality. Stretching from Tabari’s History to Nasekh
al-Tavarikh, this can be seen plainly and clearly. In these
books, history begins with a prophet, viz. Adam, and, thereafter,
too, it is always prophets who are the heroes and masters of
historical events. Each historical era begins with the appearance
of a prophet. That is to say, historical eras are defined by the
appearance of prophets. Hence, on this interpretation, history is
the history of prophets and a celestial history. History is of
interest because it is in the hands of God, totally under His power
and a manifestation of his involvement in affairs. This is exactly
the type of historiography that was set aside by Ibn Khaldun, who
introduced a different type of historiography.
In the religious view of history, history has a beginning and a
conclusion. Nothing in it is left to accident. In fact, the
divergence between will and accident is the exact divergence between
the religious and the non-religious views of history. In the
non-religious view, people have come into this world by accident.
No one had drawn up a plan for the birth and creation of human
beings. No one was waiting for them. This is why, in the
non-religious view, history may lead anywhere. The end of history
depends on the way human beings behave, how they think and what they
want. Nothing is determined. Whereas in religious history, the
beginning and end and the dynamism of history are the product of a
specific will. This specific will is the will of God.
In the light of these two types of historiography, the idea of the
saviour can be seen as a kind of religious view of history. I am of
the opinion that any attempt to explain this question with the aid
of non-religious historical concepts is condemned to failure. This
religious view of history cannot be reduced to a non-religious view
of history. A phenomenon cannot be taken out of its context and
still be expected to be effectual and resonant. The concept of the
saviour makes sense within a specific system and world-view;
outside this aggregate, it loses its meaning, vitality and force.
Hence, the experiential view of or approach to the question of the
occultation and the saviour intends not to rob this concept of its
mystery, but purely and simply to explain what it means. The
experiential view explains that all the religious indications
suggest that the idea of the saviour is firmly linked to the notion
of religious revival; and the revival of experiential
religion at that.
In all religions, the figure that is introduced as the saviour is
not a political leader, a scholar, a historian, a faqih and
so on. It is a celestial figure, a “man divine”. A friend [wali]
of God. This is a shared feature that exists in religions’ promises
and it is enough to show that there is something supernatural and
mystery-laden about the concept of the saviour. This divine and
prophet-like figure must do something prophet-like. Prophets were
first and foremost prophets. The things that you see in their lives
that are of the nature of governance, politics, economics, etc. were
incidental. Put more simply (and of course this simpler version may
on occasion distort the meaning), these kinds of activities were
imposed on prophets. That is to say, these activities were external
to them. First and foremost, prophets addressed people’s hearts and
souls. They neither brought a new rationality for people nor
constructed new livelihoods for them. Of course, as a consequence
of prophets’ actions, the level of knowledge and the livelihoods of
people were transformed, but, inherently, prophets neither willed
nor did this.
The Prophet of Islam, the history of whose life is clearer and
better documented than that of any other prophet, primarily sought
to introduce a new focal point and pivot into people’s lives. The
level of people’s earnings was absolutely not altered by the
prophet’s call. The level of people’s learning did not alter
either. The prophet did not challenge the scientific and
philosophic theories of his time, because he had essentially not
been sent to this end. In fact, these matters have been left to the
people. What prophets did was to lend meaning to people’s lives.
Presenting God as the focal point of the meaning of human life and
its true pivot was the essence of prophets’ mission. “My prayer, my
ritual sacrifice, my living, my dying – all belongs to God, the Lord
of all Being.” (Al-An’am, 162) The Prophet’s key message has been
expressed in this moving verse. Prophets’ most important task is to
identify and introduce that ultimate truth which lies at the
spiritual focal point of this world.
Of course, the message of prophets was addressed to people’s hearts
and souls. But a transformation in people’s soul and inner identity
will inevitably lead to a transformation of their collective
demeanour and outer life. As Allama Iqbal put it: “Once it
penetrates the soul, the soul is transformed / once the soul is
transformed, the world is transformed.”
On this same basis, the person who is to appear at the end of the
history will do something prophet-like. What he will do is neither
of the nature of what politicians do, nor what faqihs do, nor
poets, nor scholars. These people are all dear and esteemed in
their own right, but the Prophet and the saviour act on a different
level and plane. They move different levers and leave more extensive
traces in the different dimensions of people’s lives. The main aim
of the one who will come at the end of time is to realize, define
and reform human beings’ relationship with God. Prophets were very
successful in fulfilling this aim. But if this relationship starts
to weaken, if veils of forgetfulness start to dim believers’ eyes,
if people gradually turn away from the direction of guidance and if
the flame that was lit in people’s hearts starts to die, a divine
figure is needed to make it blaze again.
The history of religions points to the assumption that, in their
historical context, religions decline and lose their initial power,
majesty, impact and influence. This is exactly where the need for
the revival of religion stems from. Religious reform movements
essentially come into being to address this problem. The dynasty of
religious revivalists, starting from Seyyed Jamal to the present
day, were solicitous about this: to present an authentic,
mystery-ridden and, at the same time, rational definition of
religion in a “demystified” world. Of course, the direction
followed by the revivalist efforts of our religious reformers have
generally and mainly been from effect to cause. Not only people who
have been keen to revive religious law and fiqh, but also
those who have sought an ethical revival of religion, those who have
pursued a knowledge-based revival, and those who have harboured
dreams of a revolution and an ideological revival of religion have
all moved from effects towards causes in the process of their
revivalist work. But what the Prophet did and what the one who is
to come at the end of time will do is to start at the top and from
the causes, and to show that, first, in the modern world and in the
heart of modern life, authentic religious experience and powerful
contact with the other world is possible. Secondly, to allow others
to share and participate in his spiritual experience. Prophets did
not start from the injunctions of canon law, nor even from ethical
injunctions; instead, they would create a blazing focal point of
religious experience and warm their followers around it. Rumi
explains: “Within them there is ferment vast / a trace suffices to
inebriate anyone close at hand.”
A vast ferment existed within prophets such that anyone who was in
their company would feel it and experience it.
Rumi says that people once asked the Prophet when the day of
upheaval [doomsday] would be: “They’d ask him about the day of
upheaval / saying, How long is it from your rise to the
resurrection? / Be silent! he would reply / Why ask upheaval to tell
you when upheaval will be?”
He told them that he was ferment and upheaval himself; why do you
ask me when the day of upheaval will be? Do not imagine that this
was meant metaphorically. It is the truth. The Prophet was saying,
I have created upheaval. Look at yourselves and see how when you
come close to me and my breath touches you, you turn into someone
else and, when you turn into someone else, your morality and conduct
change. This is movement from the top.
Prophets passed away. Thereafter, their followers had no
alternative but to occupy themselves with the effects and to base
their conduct on these in the hope that they could reach the
causes. But one day these effects will have become so hollow and
ineffective that another person of the same fibre as prophets must
come to re-ignite the movement from the cause and from the top; to
create an upheaval that will light a new blaze in hearts and souls,
so that the flames will show that religiosity is possible in the
modern world. Then, the believers who have had new life infused
into them will rebuild their conduct and morality anew.
When there were prophets, by virtue of their novel personalities,
they exuded a new morality and conduct. Today, we stand before the
traces of what they exuded; traces which can no longer suffice and
grow dimmer with every passing day. The promised redeemer is
someone who will revive the attainment of faith from above. Today,
we need a person who can teach us that religiosity is possible in
the modern world and this person is not a faqih, he is not a
theologian, he is of the same fibre as saints. With the warmth that
such a person generates around him, he can both draw others into the
glow and teach them morality and conduct. Modern religiosity will
be born in the light of the appearance of this new wali.
The concept of the saviour and its relationship to the revival of
religion can only be explained in this way. The meaning of this
theory is that the authentic revival of religion in our disturbed
times must take place through the repetition and renewal of the
experience of prophets; that is to say, we must arrive at the
effects again by starting at the causes.
Most of our reformers began their work from the effects. They had
no choice, because as ordinary, average human beings, we have no
alternative but to follow this course and to begin from the bottom
rung of the ladder. This method has its own particular ills,
shortcomings and limitations, and this is unavoidable. And if we
view things through the eyes of the founders of religions, all these
paths fall short of taking us to the desired, final destination.
The promised redeemer, who is to put to rights the gone--wrong
situation, is someone who will take the course that was followed by
prophets. He will have a prophet-like personality. In order to
reform religion, he will neither take the path of reforming
religious laws and fiqh, nor the path of reforming rites and
morality, nor the path of tampering with outer layers and effects.
He will start at the top, not from the bottom. But this can only be
done by someone who has experienced the focal point and kernel of
religion for himself. This person is a “wali”. He is a
believer who will appear in the modern age and, with his appearance,
demonstrate how one can be a believer in modern times. All other
revivalists want to remain believers and to show others how to be
believers by relying on religion’s outer layers and shell. These
efforts are all laudable, but the idea of the saviour promises us
that, with the appearance of a wali, people can benefit from
profound religious experiences once again.
The theory of the saviour claims that temporary, passing,
incomplete, piecemeal, short-term revivals will not make the world
religious; this demystified world would remain demystified and its
overwhelming tenor would continue to be a non-religious tenor. This
world will only shed its skin and change when a first rate religious
figure, of the calibre of prophets, appears. He has religious
experience and, based on this experience, he builds a new world.
New religious regulations, ethics and fiqh will be written.
Layers will be laced around the religious experience and people will
find themselves facing a newly-born religious world. The darkness
that has cast a shadow over the world and is the product of the
occultation of truth and justice will start to recede in the light
of this wali’s radiant personality. Then, we will once again
see a world in which being a believer is natural and religious
people will no longer feel out of place. The saviour will help
reform religion by creating a kernel, not by repairing the shell.
This is the nature of the relationship between the saviour and
religious revival.
It seems evident that, in order bring about a religious revival in
modern world, more than striving for a theoretical, theological,
jurisprudential, ethical, scholarly or revolutionary revival of
religion, religious reformers and well-wishers must strive for an
elemental and spiritual revival of religion. This mode of revival
in the modern world is a historical imperative. Relying on the
effects, secondary principles and outer layers of religion and
trying to revive them will draw us into the vortex of “Islam of
identity” and open the way to modern fundamentalism.
Fundamentalism means relying on the Islam of identity instead of the
Islam of truth; relying on an element that gives a person a
this-worldly identity and draws a line between them and others;
trying to define oneself through the existence of others who are
unlike oneself. But these kinds of boundaries do not exist in the
Islam of truth. Identities are always at war but truths can
coexist, communicate and concur. When truths arrive on the scene,
they always adjust a person’s personality and demeanour, but
identities come onto the scene without corresponding to any truth
and they only flaunt themselves with antagonism or even with a
deliberate quest for enemies.
If we
seek to revive religion in the modern world we have to answer this
question: How is it possible to “live” religiously in the world
today? Faqihs reply: Fiqh can be so updated as to
bring it into harmony with modern life. Ethicists are of the view
that ethics can be codified in such a way as to make an ethical
religious life possible in the world today. But the
saviour-oriented religious perspective holds that only through the
appearance of the righteous walis of God is a religious life
possible in the modern age. This wilayat will define human
conduct and morality anew and, consequently, lead to an authentic
revival of fiqh, theology, ethics and religious teachings.
The religious reading of history and the concept of the saviour
considers the appearance of the saviour to be a great religious
venture; not a political or theological venture. The appearance of
the saviour is a great historical venture of the same fabric as the
venture of prophets.
Translated from the Persian by Nilou Mobasser
*
Published under the title “Mahdaviyat va Ehya-ye Din” in the
now-banned journal Aftab, No. 12, Jan-Feb 2002.
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