Sultan Adanir
Raised in the house of Prophet Muhammad, Hasan al-Basri was narrated to have been nursed by the Prophet’s very old wife, Umm Salamah. In Sufi tradition, milk is the symbol of knowledge as it was interpreted like that by the Prophet Muhammad, who himself is reported to have chosen milk over wine on the night of Ascension, Miraj. No wonder Attar, on his Tadhkirat-ul-Awliya, fixates on the nurture of Hasan as he thinks that the countless blessings that the Real Most High manifested on him were all the result of these few drops of milk.
Hasan had unparalleled knowledge; he met many of the companions of the Prophet and reported hadiths from them. There are many reports about his knowledge, practices and spiritual states. Reading Attar, however, one cannot help but notice one particular feature about him: Fear. Fear (khawf) is acknowledged as a spiritual station in Sufism and on the opposite of it stands hope (raja?). Sufis believe that the balance between these two stations is the right way: One should always be fearful of Allah, judgment day or going astray, while he should also be hopeful for the grace of Allah, forgiveness and amendment. Even though hope is indispensable, fear is more prevalent among the pious, which we witness in the case of Hasan al-Basri.
Looking up to the companions of the Prophet, Hasan strived to resemble them in action and spirit. That is why he criticized his contemporaries, saying they resembled their predecessors only on the outside. He said to his friends, “Your faces and beards were similar; however if you had laid their eyes on the companions of the Prophet, you would think of them as lunatics. And if they had seen you, they would not have called you Muslims.” In his expression, we sense a kind of nostalgia intertwined with bitterness.
He belonged to the second generation of Muslims, but he was already uncomfortable with the general situation of the Muslims. His fear must have come from this dilemma: His examples were such great characters that he was afraid he would never attain their states and his contemporaries were engaged in such worldly affairs that he was scared to go astray with them. When asked about Islam and Muslims, he replied: “Today, Islam is in the books, and Muslims are under the earth” – for him, time had fulfilled its term. He wrote in a letter saying, “Assume that the day has come when the last person is to die. Farewell.” It seems he was living as it was the last day of the world, which is the reason and result of his fear.
This kind of fear comes only from a deep awareness of time. Sufis coined a phrase to express this awareness: Ibn al-Waqt, meaning “The Son of Time.” It means being present at the moment, doing the best of all possibilities in that given time. (There is a higher degree of this concept which is Abu al-Waqt’s “The Father of Time,” which implies the state in which a person is in control of time as contrary to the state in which he is controlled by it, the examples of which we can find in Sufi texts.) “The son of time” is a brilliant concept encompassing fear and hope. Both of these emotions or stations, as Sufis call them, are about either the past or the future. However, these are just empty assumptions if they do not change the course of the present. When a person becomes the son of time, he acts by what time requires him to do. Being stuck in the past or setting an eye on the future brings nothing but remorse and unease.
How can a person become a son of time? The Sufi Path, thorny and arduous, has many stations for the wayfarer. Attar’s masterpiece, “The Conference of the Birds,” tells us about this Sufi journey through the birds crossing seven valleys.
One bird articulates the feeling:
“This valley’s endless; dangers lie ahead;
The first time that we rest, I’ll drop down dead.”
And yet, Sufis did and still do set on the journey. Thinking about the temporariness of life and believing in eternity inevitably push devotees like Hasan to be fastidious about their lives. Fear comes from living in this world so deeply rooted that no one wants to leave, and yet no one can escape the certain farewell. Therefore, one must be hopeful for the afterworld. This is just an impetus, pushing a devotee to the path. Along the journey, the devotee experiences a waving of fear and hope among many other spiritual states. However, in each wave, the nature of the state transforms and takes on a new meaning.
It is reported that Hasan used to cry a lot. When he sat down by himself, he looked like a prisoner waiting for his death sentence to be executed. However, only on his deathbed, he smiled. He felt fear all his life and was spared from what he feared. His fear kept him from wasting his limited time on earth and doing wrong. He was not afraid of death as once he told a friend: “You are afraid of death because of the things you must leave behind. If you sent them ahead, you would have nothing to fear.” He feared that he would unknowingly commit a sin or become a hypocrite or a heretic. That is why all his endeavors were focused on being aware. This awareness spreads through his understanding of time, his feeling of fear and hope, his each and every act. Such a high consciousness answers the question of who the son of time is.
Courtesy: Dailysabah
