In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
As-salāmu ʿalaykum wa raḥmatullāhi taʿālā wa barakātuh. Wa ʿalaykum as-salām wa raḥmatullāhi taʿālā wa barakātuh. Al-ḥamdu lillāhi Rabb al-ʿālamīn waṣ-ṣalātu waṣ-salāmu ʿalā sayyidinā wa nabiyyinā Muḥammadin wa ʿalā ālihi wa ṣaḥbihi ajmaʿīn.
Worldly Knowledge and the Knowledge of the Hereafter
If we say that there is ʿUlūm ad-dunyā, which everyone accepts, and that there is ʿUlūm al-ākhirah, which everyone also accepts, then how do the two compare? If ʿUlūm ad-dunyā is on one side and ʿUlūm al-ākhirah is on the other, what is the percentage of worldly knowledge in relation to the knowledge of the Hereafter? ʿUlūm ad-dunyā is limited, while ʿUlūm al-ākhirah has no limit. The more deeply you dive into it, the more you find, and it never ends. Worldly knowledge comes to an end. People are happy to discover theories, galaxies, and new things in the skies and the universe, and all of that may be correct, but it remains connected to dunyā and is therefore limited. When you turn instead to ʿUlūm al-ākhirah, page after page opens before you. From the knowledge Allah gave to Awliyāʾullāh, you do not know where to begin or where to end. Each word opens another dimension, and each meaning leads to something further.
So I said that today I would speak from a ṣuḥbah of Grandshaykh that took place in Dagestan, in Central Asia. But as I went back a few pages, I found something else that was also important. So we have to choose: do we want to speak about ʿulūm ad-dunyā or about ʿulūm al-ākhirah? Surely everyone will say that they want something from ʿulūm al-ākhirah. Knowledge of dunyā is like seeing someone who is well dressed, speaks nicely, and appears outwardly in good condition, while inwardly he may be completely burdened with illness and difficulty. You only see the outer form; the inner reality remains hidden.
That is why today there is such a rush. In earlier times, there was a gold rush in this country; now there is a rush for knowledge. People run after the kind of knowledge that makes the outward form look beautiful, while inwardly many problems remain unresolved. The Prophetﷺ brought the message of Islam not only to organize the outer structure of life, but also to guide the inner reality. When we leave aside great dimensions such as Iḥsān and Īmān, and take only the outward framework, we miss the deeper treasure. Gold is precious, but there is also a rush for diamonds. A small diamond may be worth more than many kilograms of gold. In the same way, subtle spiritual wisdom may be more valuable than large amounts of outward information. That is why studying the tricks of the self is so important, because the ego may place a person under responsibilities he is unable to carry.
Divine Decree, the Soul, and the Body
إِنَّا كُلَّ شَيْءٍ خَلَقْنَاهُ بِقَدَرٍ
Innā kulla shayʾin khalaqnāhu bi-qadar.
Indeed, We created everything with measure. (Surat al-Qamar, 54:49)
Before that, Grandshaykh, may Allah bless his soul, says that Allah subḥānahu wa taʿālā, by kun fayakūn, assigned angels to carry galaxies, universes, and stars in their places. Some stars move, others remain still, and many are carried or held by angels according to Allah's will. In the same way, the body, the soul, and human desires are moved by angels according to Allah's command. Nothing moves without Allah's will. Someone may say that this is a difficult discussion from the science of kalām, but we can still say simply that everything moves by Allah's will. A person in a boat or an airplane has no control over the greater direction of that vessel, yet inside it he still has a limited will: he can move, speak, eat, and act. So too in life. The greater command belongs to Allah, while the human being acts only within the small space granted to him. That is why this dunyā has been given as a field of limited will, while the major decree always remains with Allah ﷻ. Everything has been measured, from the smallest to the greatest, and birth and death remain outside human control. We move only within the boat; we do not command the sea.
At every moment there is birth and death within the human being. The body is constantly renewing itself: cells die and new cells are created, and each cell contains astonishing systems of defense, response, and order. In that sense, the body is always passing through cycles of birth and death. The soul, however, is different. When a person passes one obstacle and purifies one area of the self, Allah opens another dimension for him. The soul is always capable of ascending, while the body is gradually descending until it can no longer bear the burden of life and death arrives. The body weakens, but the soul does not die. Its reality remains connected to the Divine Presence and to the Day of Promises. We were there, and in a reality beyond our physical perception, we remain connected to that origin.
The Diamond Rush and the Guidance of Awliyāʾ
So Allah gave that kind of diamond rush to Awliyāʾullāh, while the golden rush belongs to the ʿUlamāʾ al-ummah. If you want gold, you run after the scholars of the community; if you want diamonds, you go after the friends of Allah. They are alive in Allah's presence and are provided there. The ordinary person may not know how to open to that reality, because the soul's deeper perception remains veiled. But when that opening begins through good manners and through maqām al-iḥsān, one starts to understand that the body may be dead while the soul remains alive. What is truly alive connects with what is truly alive, and this is part of the secret of the path.
Creation Is in Pairs
وَخَلَقْنَاكُمْ أَزْوَاجًا
Wa khalaqnākum azwājan.
And We created you in pairs. (Surat an-Naba, 78:8)
مَرَجَ الْبَحْرَيْنِ يَلْتَقِيَانِ
Maraja al-baḥrayni yaltaqiyān.
He released the two seas, meeting side by side. (Surat ar-Rahman, 55:19)
That is why Allah says in the Holy Qur'an that He created creation in pairs. This leads to many meanings. One of them is that human beings must live with taqwā and recognize that Allah created them from one origin and then brought forth their counterpart. Another meaning appears in the example of the seas: salty water and sweet water meet side by side. Allah subḥānahu wa taʿālā can cause sweet water to emerge even from within the sea, and in that image there is a lesson. In a vast and salty environment, a sweet current may appear and sustain life. Likewise, within a large community, Allah may send one guiding person whose sweetness can purify and guide others. If a person is too full of pride and harshness, he cannot easily remain with that sweetness. The work of the guide is to reduce the salt gradually and introduce sweetness with wisdom. That is why Awliyāʾ Allāh give sweetness carefully, while the ʿulamāʾ al-ummah also give sweetness, though often mixed with the conditions and limitations of ordinary people.
So we stand between these two ways: the way of the Awliyāʾ, which is complete sweetness, and the way of the ʿulamāʾ al-ummah, which also contains sweetness but in a different form. Through the mashāyikh, a person may be called by a heavenly name known in Paradise, and that is a great honor. Such matters do not come by personal effort alone; they come through permission, through the Prophet ﷺ, and through the chain of transmission. In the same way, Khilāfah cannot be granted without permission, and the Golden Chain of the Naqshbandiyya Ṭarīqah is one such transmitted trust, just as other chains exist in other ṭuruq. If a person is honored with such a name or trust, it belongs to the realities by which he will be known on the Day of Judgment. Through the intercession granted by Allah to the Prophet, and through the permission given to Awliyāʾ Allāh to intercede for their followers, salvation in the Ākhirah becomes a reality of mercy rather than a merely abstract idea.
The Story of a Khalīfah
That story shows us how important adab is in the Ṭarīqah. Sayyidinā Muḥammad Zāhid al-Bukhārī was one of the great shaykhs of the Golden Chain, and in his time he had a Khalīfah. To understand this story, we must understand how difficult and delicate the path is. A diamond rush is not like a gold rush: diamonds are found deep underground, after immense pressure and time, while gold may be found nearer the surface. In the same way, these teachings are like diamonds. They must be kept before our eyes as a warning against pride, takabbur, ghurūr, and kibr. A person cannot say, “I am different from others; I am better.” A title alone means nothing, and such a title cannot truly remain with one who is filled with arrogance.
That Khalīfah was deeply dedicated to his shaykh and to the Ṭarīqah. He had reached a level at which he could hear the reply of “balā” from the Day of Promises, when Allah asked, أَلَسْتُ بِرَبِّكُمْ Alastu bi-Rabbikum? “Am I not your Lord?”[1] and the souls answered, “Yes.”
That Khalīfah had also been granted the six realities in the heart. Yet these six powers are only the beginning of the ladder, not its summit. They are among the lower grades of diamond in relation to Awliyāʾullāh: precious, but not yet pure. At that level, a person may enter states of trance and utter shaṭaḥāt—words spoken under overpowering spiritual attraction, without full control. The more perfect ones, the Kummal, have passed beyond that station into steadiness and precision, so that no contradiction or imbalance appears in their speech. Grandshaykh, may Allah bless his soul, spoke like a fountain of knowledge through ʿilm, not through uncontrolled utterance. Mawlānā Shaykh Nāẓim also, especially in his later years, shifted his emphasis toward teaching the ego and the work of self-purification.
So when this Khalīfah entered into a trance associated with the six powers, Grandshaykh explained that even this level was not easy to reach. At that time, in the history of Khatm al-Khawājagān, none of the other Khalīfahs had reached that station. Many representatives existed, but representation did not mean direct reception in the same way from the Prophet to the shaykh and from the shaykh to the murīd. A representative might help with Dhikrullāh, offer naṣīḥah, and listen to people's concerns, but such a person did not carry Maqām al-Irshād. We say this only in gratitude to Allah ﷻ, never to belittle anyone. We are at the threshold, at the level of everyone's shoes, and one word can redirect a person completely.
One night that Khalīfah was outside his home very late. This is where Awliyāʾullāh caught him. Though he had reached the level of the six powers, he was walking in the streets without permission. Awliyāʾullāh seek permission for everything; they do not act haphazardly. If permission is given, they go, and if not, they refrain. As he walked, he passed by a tavern—a coffeehouse or bar—where people were gathered drinking wine. If one of us were to pass by such a place, we might say, “al-ḥamdu lillāh,” praising Allah for having kept us away from that state. From the perspective of Sharīʿah, such a statement appears sound, but the scale of Ṭarīqah is more delicate. In heavenly knowledge, every word is weighed with exactness, and nothing remains hidden. A shaykh may be far away in outward distance, yet still hear and know.
What did he say at that moment? He said, “al-ḥamdu lillāh.” Yet this phrase is also the opening of the Holy Qur'an: “praise belongs to Allah“ and Allah teaches His servants how to praise Him. Even the root of the blessed name Muḥammad ﷺ comes from حمد “the praise” along with names such as Maḥmūd. So at the level of Sharīʿah one may say al-ḥamdu lillāh, but at the level of Ṭarīqah one must be careful that hidden inside the praise is not the thought, “I am better than them.” In effect, he was saying, “Al-ḥamdu lillāh, I am not like them.” Correct action would have been that instead of remaining outside in judgment, he should have entered and drawn them toward Islam, because the presence of a Walī brings mercy to a place. Those who sit with people obedient to Allah may be forgiven through that company, as indicated in the holy ḥadīth. A single glance from such a one might have turned them from a road leading to punishment toward a road leading to mercy.
Awliyāʾullāh are granted powers by Allah, but in that moment he was in a trance and failed to act as he should have. Because of that hidden thought of superiority, he fell. He was a Khalīfah, a Walī, yet he was being tested. These are Grandshaykh's notes, and I am not speaking about any particular person; I am speaking about myself and all of us. Because he saw himself as better than the others, he became spiritually junub. In the eyes of Awliyāʾ, he lost his purity. He saw those people not only as lower than himself, but as inferior, and so Allah reversed the state: he became impure, while repentance and purification came to them. That is why we ask Allah to save us from moments of heedlessness.
This was anāniyyah in Ṭarīqah—selfhood and self-regard—and from that selfishness the door of shahwat al-ḥarām was opened. Corrupt desire spread through him until he felt it throughout his whole being, even to the intensity of the force of fifty men. Then he was made to see a woman in Bukhara. What appeared before him was the form of a married woman, but in reality Iblīs had altered the appearance and entered into the matter. The Khalīfah fell into sin with her, and Grandshaykh said this story became well known in Central Asia as a warning.
All of this began because he said, in effect, “I am better than them.” A Khalīfah cannot say that; he must see the murīds as better than himself. Mawlānā Shaykh Nāẓim, may Allah bless his soul, always taught us this adab: never raise your head and claim superiority. Rather, one must see one's own mistakes as greater, admit one's weakness, and seek Allah's forgiveness. But when a person becomes proud of titles—shaykh, teacher, doctor, engineer—arrogance begins to consume him. This Khalīfah fell into complete impurity and then disappeared. Twenty days passed, according to Grandshaykh, and he no longer came to Khatm al-Khawājagān or to the gatherings where he used to give naṣīḥah in cities and villages.
People began asking, “Where is our Khalīfah?” Yet one who has received khilāfah through his shaykh from the Prophet cannot simply throw it away or say, “I give it up.” That is not humility; it is abandoning the trust. So when people searched for him, they found him at home. He was not physically ill, but the light that had once shone from him was cut off. There was no longer light in his speech, nothing left to draw them, and they said to him, “You have extinguished your light from us and left us in darkness. Please come back.”
He told the ʿUlamāʾ and those who came to him, “Leave me alone. I do not want to see you.” His state worsened further. He fell into another impurity; his body rose and fell, his skin darkened, his body swelled, and then he died.
This bring back another incident I once saw in a video from one Gulf country: a woman had died, and after they washed her and prepared her for burial, no one could lift her. The more people they brought, the heavier she became. Though she may have weighed only sixty or seventy kilos, they could not carry her from the house. Finally they contacted Dār al-Fatwā regarding this matter, and a scholar told them, “Read Sūrat Yā-Sīn.” They objected, asking how they could read Yā-Sīn over someone already deceased [which was against their beliefs], but he insisted. When they recited it, they were suddenly able to lift her and place her in the grave. Later it was said that her body had turned black and her face had taken on an animal-like appearance, though only her son saw this. After Sūrat Yā-Sīn was recited, her appearance returned to normal. Forty days later the son told the shaykh what he had seen. Such stories remind us that with Awliyāʾullāh and with sacred recitation, we do not know what hidden realities are being addressed.
I know this is heavy material, but it came to be said. Each time I tried to turn the page, I was brought back to this lesson. Then Muḥammad Zāhid sent a murīd with a message to his wife, instructing her to tell the visitor to wait, saying that the shaykh had gone out but would return. He then entered his room, locked the door, and remained there in seclusion so that outwardly it appeared as if he were absent. In that state, the rūḥāniyyah of the Messenger appeared. The Prophet ﷺ is ḥāḍir and nāẓir for Awliyāʾullāh; they may see him and speak with him. Just as Imām al-Bukhārī would seek guidance through istikhārah before placing a ḥadīth or arranging a chapter, so too these great ones receive direction. The Prophet ﷺ appeared and said to Muḥammad Zāhid, “You are responsible. You are his shaykh, and you are responsible. I entrusted you with the secret of that chain, so you must save him, cleanse him, and purify him.”
Grandshaykh said that Muḥammad Zāhid possessed the power and knowledge to deal with such a matter, but he never spoke of these things openly. No murīd knows the full authority a shaykh may be given to purify his followers, even after death. Feeling the full weight of responsibility, Muḥammad Zāhid then went to the masjid and Maqām of Sayyidinā Shāh Naqshband. Since he came after him in the chain, he turned there in humility, made sajda, and in that state saw Sayyidinā Shāh Naqshband in a vision. He was told, “Raise your head from sajda. You are responsible, because you clothed him with those six powers without my authority.” In the Naqshbandī Ṭarīqah, Khilāfah is not given casually. Such amānāt must pass through their proper witnessing and permission. Then came the inspired message: “If Shāh Naqshband forgives him, I forgive him.” So Muḥammad Zāhid al-Bukhārī went into sajda again and asked for complete forgiveness.
In that sajda he heard an inspiration in his heart: “Yā ʿabdī, stand up! I have forgiven him. More than that, I have clothed him with īmān and happiness, and I am sending him to Paradise.” Why did this opening come? Because in his first sajda he had said, “Yā Rabbī, either take me with him to Hellfire or forgive him. I will not leave him.” He offered himself to save his murīd. If Allah had decreed that both should enter Hellfire, no one could oppose that judgment, yet he still said, “If he goes, I go with him. I will not leave him.” This is the reality of Awliyāʾullāh. On the Day when everyone flees from brother, sister, father, mother, and child, Muḥammad Zāhid was saying, “Take me with him.” So Allah saved the murīd. This is why the title of the discourse is true: the shaykh will sacrifice himself to save the murīd.
So look at Awliyāʾullāh. What do you think Mawlānā Shaykh Nāẓim did throughout his life for his murīds? What openings of spiritual happiness did he give them—things they may only fully witness in the grave? How much did Grandshaykh, may Allah bless his soul, pour out like a fountain of knowledge, reward, and ḥasanāt, clothing his murīds without their knowing it? This is why Shaykh Sharafuddīn, when asked to carry the responsibility of Khilāfah, said he would not accept unless he received from the Prophet ﷺ the promise that anyone who sat with him would be raised to his level. These are Awliyāʾullāh.
After Muḥammad Zāhid received that heavenly guarantee, he returned home as though nothing had happened. He told no one what had occurred in his sajda, because Awliyāʾ do not boast of what they do. Later, when people informed him of the murīd's death, he asked one of them to make duʿāʾ while he only said Āmīn, still hiding himself. Then he told them, “In shāʾ Allāh, he will be in happiness,” and the body returned to its normal state. May Allah bless us. Sayyidinā ʿAlī (r) teaches that books and lessons may fill the world, yet the heart can still remain sick. If the heart remains sick, what benefit do books alone provide? A person needs a guide who can help change the heart and cure it of pride and arrogance.
There is more that could be said, but we will stop here. May Allah forgive us and forgive me for the heaviness of this discourse. It is heavy, but it is not from me. It is meant to show what Awliyāʾullāh may do for their murīds, and it should increase our love for them and keep us remembering them always—especially those great sultans of Awliyāʾ from whom we have taken.
Wa min Allāhi t-tawfīq bi-ḥurmat al-Fātiḥah.
May Allah sanctify the secret of Grandshaykh Shaykh ʿAbdullāh al-Fāʾiz ad-Dāghistānī and Mawlānā Shaykh Nāẓim al-Ḥaqqānī, Sulṭān al-Awliyāʾ. May Allah bring all the murīds together, unite them, and let them work together for the good and benefit of the murīds and of the world in general. You do not know how Awliyāʾullāh can reach east and west.
Wa bi-ḥurmat al-Ḥabīb wa bi-ḥurmat al-Fātiḥah.
Al-Fātiḥah.
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[1] Surat al-Aʿrāf (7:172)