Sufism in America The Alami Tariqa of Waterport Ne... - (Pages 51 To 75)

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Chapter 1
develops, until any attachment to the shaykh is recognized as unnecessary

and disappears.
Traversing the Sufi path involves undergoing a powerful process of inner
transformation. The aim of the Sufi is to become fully submitted to God, and
for some this may mean striving to emulate the life of Prophet Muhammad,
while others focus their efforts on “dying” to the self (fanā’) and coming into
spiritual “union” with God (waḥdat al-wujūd). The latter describes total sub-
mission in the sense of a dissolusion of individuality and an actualization of
human perfection and the divine image in which humans were created. After
this point, constraints that bound the individual are released, and, to use a
common analogy of Sufism, the Lover and the Beloved become inseparable.
All doubt regarding the existence of God is replaced with certainty because
the person actually knows it.
The claim of uniting with God can be unsettling for those with differ-
ent understandings of how to approach God and who have concern that it
will inspire ascribing parters to God or be in contrast with tawḥīd.76 Fueling
this concern, some who have undergone the unveiling experience of waḥdat
al-wujūd have made seemingly blasphemous statements. For example, Mansur
al-Hallaj famously said, Ana’ al-Haqq (I am the Truth) (i.e., God). This utter-
ance gave Hallaj the title of “martyr of mystical love” by the Sufis, who realized
that he had removed the false gods in his life and reached awareness of the one-
ness of God.77 However, among the more orthodox Muslims, it was considered
heretical and was one factor among many political and theological factors
which led to his execution in 913 C.E.78 Another example of a Sufi martyr is
Shaykh Bayazid Bastami with his apparent pronouncement, Laysa jubbetu sive
Allah (In my garment there is nothing but God).79 In addition, it is not uncom-
mon for Sufi poets to include references to alcoholic drink, lovemaking, and
other themes considered blasphemous and inappropriate by the religious estab-
lishment to orient their audience toward experiences of divine enlightenment.
As Peter Wilson comments, “It is Sufism (arguably) more than any other brand
of mysticism which has embodied the idea that ‘intoxication’ may take many,
Copyright © 2016. Lexington Books. All rights reserved.
sometimes outlandish and unexpected, forms.”80 These expressions of devotion,

though can be easily misunderstood or taken out of context.
Traveling Sufis have played an important role in spreading Islam across
the world. A common reason individuals embrace Islam through Sufism is
the ease with which Sufis adapt to local cultures and popularize Islam, as
Richard Eaton explores in his study of Sufis in India.81 Traveling shaykhs have
establishing Sufi lodges (khānaqāhs) in Africa, Central and Southeast Asia,
Spain, the Balkans, Egypt, and Iraq, among many other locations.82 In addi-
tion, travel is considered a physical and spiritual challenge for overcoming
one’s nafs, or lower-base ego, and is thus an appropriate means of spiritual
development.
Hazen, Julianne. Sufism in America : The Alami Tariqa of Waterport, New York, Lexington Books, 2016. ProQuest Ebook Central,
http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/claremont/detail.action?docID=4776527.
Created from claremont on 2022-10-10 00:58:48.
Sufism in America 37
SUFISM AND MODERNITY
Many scholars and modernist thinkers, both inside and outside of Islam,
anticipated that the practice of Sufism would cease in time.83 This was
because they considered Sufism to be a remnant of archaic traditions, and its
elements were thought to be inconsistent with the desirable qualities of ratio-
nal, modern individuals.84 In particular, they targeted its portrayal as a way to
pursue esoteric understandings of God and the requirement for adherents to
concede personal judgment, defer to the teacher, and take a vow of secrecy.
As van Bruinessen and Day Howell comment, “These features attributed to
the ṭarīqa have been deemed not only to violate basic religious doctrine, but
to be inappropriate to the personal autonomy proper to the modern subject.”85
Adding to this belief and encouraging the assumption that it was, indeed, in
decline, the influence of Sufism on various levels of societies and its capacity
to adapt was typically disregarded in the literature. A lasting effect of many
Orientalists having been influenced by Islamic reform movements which
were critical of Sufism was that their observations were limited in scope.
They primarily document the “popular” and often unorthodox expressions of
Sufism common to rural areas while neglecting the Sufi tradition of urban,
educated elite. Their writings typically approach Sufism as moribund and
describe its origins, rise, influence, and subsequent decline.86
Although incorrect, this influenced other academics, and it severely stunted
the study of traditional Sufism in contemporary societies. For example, from
his observations in Egypt and the Arab Middle East, A. J. Arberry famously
commented that although the Sufis held “the interest and allegiance of the
ignorant masses, no man of education would care to speak in their favor.”87
This sentiment was reiterated by both Clifford Geertz in his study of Islam in
Java and later by Ernest Gellner, who commented that a more puritan reform-
ist form of Islam was overtaking the mystical and scholarly traditionalism
he termed “maraboutism.”88 This helped to reinforce the idea that Sufism, as
espoused in living ṭarīqas and the writings of Ibn al-Arabi and al-Ghazali, was
becoming extinct, a false opinion which ignored that many Sufis operate in
both domains without appearing to perceive a contradiction.
Recent scholarship has highlighted the contradiction between the assump-
tions in the literature and the reality of the ṭarīqas, which are adapting to
modernity and often gaining members. Numerous examples could be men-
tioned. In Egypt, for instance, although it was surmised that the influence
of ṭarīqas had weakened, Valerie Hoffman found that there were increasing
numbers of ṭarīqas as well as increasing membership within the ṭarīqas.89 She
particularly notes that the ṭarīqas were seeking young, well-educated and
modernist-minded individuals who especially appreciated a sharī‘a-oriented
approach in Sufism. Also, while Sufism was largely ignored in Indonesia
38 Chapter 1
since the 1970s out of a preference for the study of the outer, scripturalist form
of Islamic revival movements, Julia Day Howell has shown how Sufism is
being “enthusiastically pursued” by both men and women in the urban as well
as rural areas.90 She associates this trend with changes made by the ṭarīqas
such as experimenting with new institutional forms attempting to bridge
the traditional expressions of Islam with the modern scripturalism. Other
examples include Fethullah Gulen and Said Nursi’s followings in Turkey,
intellectual groups centered on Sufism that draw individuals from the middle
class including the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society or the Rumi Forum, and the
vast adaptations of Islamic Sufism to include non-Muslims such as observed
at the Dances of Universal Peace.
Sufism has undergone numerous reforms and revivals over the centuries,
often heralded by those within Sufi orders. In her notable work entitled Sufis
and Anti-Sufis, Elizabeth Sirriyeh discusses many of these reform move-
ments.91 Two prominent reformers within Sufism in the 1700s and early
1800s were Shah Wali Ullah of Delhi and Ahmad Ibn Idris of Morocco,
who championed for a reorientation toward sharī‘a and away from the decay
represented in shrine worship, public performances, and superstitious prac-
tices. Other than among the Wahhabi movement, it is uncharacteristic for
reformists to forthrightly reject Sufism because divine intervention through
mystical experiences is a common Islamic belief. Frederick De Jong and
Bernd Radtke present an overview of the controversies spanning six geo-
graphical locations and thirteen centuries in their edited book Mysticism
Contested.92
A phrase which arose from Sufism’s interaction with reformers and
Western colonialism is “neo-Sufism,” and it has been used to delineate
an expression of modern Sufism.93 However, scholars have used this term
inconsistently and with varying meanings. Fazlur Rahman apparently coined
“neo-Sufism” in 1966 to describe changes in Sufism that became prominent
in the late 1800s and early 1900s.94 It was characterized by strong adherence
to the sharī‘a and sunna, rejection of bid’a (innovation) and ecstatic practices,
and had jihadist tendencies. Other times, this term has been used to refer
to a contemporary expression of Sufism which emerged from critiques of
excesses from within and which promotes adherence to sharī‘a.95 Addition-
ally, Day Howell uses “neo-Sufism” to identify a type of Sufi-oriented Islam
which is ethical and devotional, but lacks the institutional tradition of the Sufi
ṭarīqa, and was instigated by, as she describes, “Neo-Modernist liberalism.”96
A further expression is neo-Sufism as a form of Sufism which is accultur-
ated strongly to Western ideals, for example the Sufism espoused by Frithjof
Schuon.97 However, others point out that the characteristics typically ascribed
to neo-Sufis do not accurately describe their origins, actions, or beliefs, and
they recommend employing neo-Sufism cautiously.98
SUFISM IN AMERICA
Until the twentieth century, most Americans were unaware of Sufism except
for a few intellectuals who knew of its occurrence in Muslim settings. Although
the American Transcendentalists had a certain familiarity with Persian mysti-
cal poetry, largely thanks to translations by Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt
Whitman, there was a prevalent disconnect between esoteric and exoteric
Islam.99 Sufi practices were not typically adopted by Americans, nor were Sufi
texts read and integrated into local religious practices, unlike the Buddhist
and Hindu texts.100 When Inayat Khan, an Indian Sufi teacher, traveled across
America promoting Sufism in the early 1900s, it became widely understood as
a spirituality that overarched the main religious traditions and was not strongly
connected to Islam.
This interpretation of Sufism as a Perennialist movement remained domi-
nant for about fifty years until more flexible immigration laws in second half
of the twentieth century allowed a greater number of Muslim Sufis to migrate
to America. Prior to this, Muslim immigrants had not played a large role in
promoting Sufism in America, unlike those in Britain and across Europe. This
is likely because of a tendency among modernist-minded and highly educated
Muslim immigrants to America to look disfavorably upon the popular Sufism
of their homelands.101 When immigration laws relaxed in the 1960s, a greater
number of Muslims who practiced Sufism immigrated to America, including
Sufi shaykhs. They began promoting it in more traditional, Islamic forms,
although many of them adapted Sufism in some ways to the American context,
often including a gradual introduction into the tenets of Islam. A number of
Americans who were initially interested in the more perennial-oriented Sufism
moved toward more Islamic Sufism during this time.102
As a result of these beginnings, the concept of Sufism has been stretched
to describe many variants beside the traditional form of ṭarīqas in America.
In general, Sufi movements tend to be world accommodating of mainstream
American culture since no dramatic changes are usually required, such as
adopting different names or foreign dress codes.103 On the other hand, some
Sufi movements may be distrustful of Western society or espouse millen-
nial philosophies. Those with participants who are ethnically unified, recent
immigrants have often acculturated minimally to the American setting and
continue to uphold the cultures and traditions of their homelands. Still, other
Sufi movements are Traditionalist in the sense that they consider the modern
West to be in crisis as a result of losing touch with tradition, as René Guénon
proposed. Also, they may uphold a Perennial philosophy, considering Sufism
to be a pathway to a primal truth and primordial religion.104
Typically, Sufism attracts Westerners through creative expressions such as
poetry, Sufi stories, music, and dancing. It provides an outlet for those seeking
40 Chapter 1
spiritual fulfilment. Ali Köse, in his study of converts to Islam in Great

Britain, found that many who joined Sufism reported feeling dissatisfied with
their former religions and wanting to have meaningful interactions with the
Divine.105 Western women, in particular, may be attracted to Sufism as an
alternative to religious traditions historically dominated by men and that have
an institutional aversion of the feminine. The literature also indicates that
joining Sufism can be a way to reject dominant cultural values, since Sufism
and Islam have a counterculture attraction with roots in the 1960 hippie cul-
ture. Another strong draw is the allowance for intellectual spiritual discourse
and artistic expressions.
While Sufism has found wide appeal among Americans, it has not played a
significant role in bringing many to Islam, contrary to its reported role in Europe
as one of the main ways of coming to this religion.106 As Hermansen states,
“The appeal of Sufism to Americans usually occurs before formal acceptance
of Islam, and many persons involved in Sufi movements never come to formally
practice Islam.”107 This is likely because Islam is often considered foreign and
unappealing by Americans whether this is due to negative portrayals in the
media, stereotypes of it being dogmatic and dry, the fear of fanaticism, or lack of
personal interaction with Muslims. The universal spirituality in Sufism, which
is common to Perennialism, has attracted spiritual seekers, many of whom
applied the appealing aspects of Sufism to their individual spiritual searches,
such as Sufi psychology and meditation techniques, and disregarded the less-
appealingt dimensions, particularly its connection to Islam. Interestingly, these
new manifestations resemble the early concept of Sufism by Orientalists. As
Ernst explains, “The essential feature of the definitions of Sufism that appeared
[at the end of the eighteenth century] was the insistence that Sufism had no
intrinsic relation with the faith of Islam” but that it had “more in common . . .
with true Christianity, with Greek philosophy, and with the mystical specula-
tions of the Indian Vedanta.”108 Their misconstruction has become an observed
reality, particularly among the NRMs and New Age movements in America.
Although Sufism is not a significant factor in bringing Americans to Islam,
it does have some impact, as demonstrated by a glance at the biographies and

websites of prominent American converts to Islam. Among these well-known
individuals are: Hamza Yusuf, Umar Faruq Abd-Allah, Nuh Keller, Vincent
Daniel Moore, ‘Abdullah Noorudeen Durkee, and Aisha Bewley.109 Sufism
continues to play a role in their lives as scholars, authors, and leaders in their
communities.
A Historical Glimpse
Researcher Gisela Webb identified three waves of Sufism in America.110
Although these phases of Sufi activity are identifiable, they are intertwined
and have vague borders with actors who contributed significantly to more
than one wave. In this discussion, a number of notable figures are highlighted
for their contributions to spreading Sufism throughout the West, but there are
many more that could not be included due to space considerations.111
According to Webb, the first wave of Sufism in America occurred in the
early 1900s and was marked by increased interest among Westerners in
Eastern knowledge and, likewise, a desire on behalf of Eastern teachers to
bring renewed spiritual awareness to the West.112 The first Western “Sufi” to
become known was Isabelle Eberhardt, an audacious Swiss woman who trav-
eled though Algeria in the late 1800s and early 1900s and published popular
and romantic accounts of her experiences in the French newspapers.113 She
was known for dressing in men’s clothing, smoking hashish, and for her
romantic endeavors. She referred to herself as a Sufi, giving Westerners quite
an unorthodox perception of Sufism.
George Gurdjieff, an enigmatic figure of Greek-Armenian descent, is
another who played an important pioneering role in kindling interest in eso-
teric and theosophical Sufism in the West.114 After coming into contact with
Sufism during travels through the Middle East and Central Asia, he traveled
to major cities in Europe and America, including Paris, London, and New
York, and gave performances with Mevlevi-inspired dance and music. Gurd-
jieff became quite well known among intellectual circles in both Europe and
the United States.
Most recognized for his role in establishing Sufism in America as a univer-
sal spirituality during the early 1900s is Inayat Khan, an Indian mystic and
musician.115 Having studied under a Hindu teacher as well as a Muslim Sufi
shaykh of the Chishti Ṭarīqa (Nizami branch), Khan was uniquely prepared to
teach to the diverse American population. However, he considered Americans
unprepared to achieve mystical self-realization through traditional Islamic
Sufism. Therefore, in an attempt to share the message of Sufism in a method
which was better adapted to the Western mind, Khan emphasized the spiritual
essence of Truth in all religions and separated Sufism from its historical and
traditional place in Islam.116 He toured the continent between 1910 and 1927,
hosting lectures and workshops on Sufism as a universal path to spiritual
transformation and self-realization.
Among noteworthy Europeans involved in Sufism at this time was René
Guénon, philosopher and founder of the French journal La Gnose (Gnosis),
who was initiated into Sufism by Swedish painter Ivan Aguéli (d. 1917),
shaykh of the Shadhili Ṭarīqa.117 Differing from Gurdjieff and Khan’s inter-
pretation of Sufism, Guénon is famous for establishing the philosophy of
Traditionalism, which is centered on the concept of a primordial religious
tradition (Perennialism) that has since been lost to humanity. It was thought
that Western civilization was declining and would continue to do so unless
42 Chapter 1
Western individuals reconnected with the primal truths found in Eastern tradi-
tions. The Sufi path was identified as being a valuable way of reaching these
ancient wisdoms.118 At this time, there was a burgeoning interest in Europe
in the writings of Ibn al-Arabi, and Guénon introduced many Westerners to
Sufism through his publications. Although he adopted the practice of Islam
and believed Sufism could only be authentically practiced in this religious
context, he continued to uphold the unity of all religions and did not consider
Islam to be superior or that he had converted.119
Most famously, Guénon’s writings influenced Swiss francophone Frithjof
Schuon, who traveled to Algeria in 1932 and, notably, was initiated as a
shaykh.120 Following this, he founded a Swiss branch of the Alawi Ṭarīqa
that was barely known to outsiders because of its secrecy. This ṭarīqa became
established in France, England, and America, particularly among the intel-
lectual elite. Schuon espoused Traditionalism and over time distanced his
order from Islam.121 Later, this order underwent further changes, which will
be mentioned below.
The second wave of Sufism found fertile ground in the American counter-
culture of the 1960s and 1970s.122 Having identified the cause of disharmony
and racism as a spiritual sickness that the established religious culture had
neglected to correct and had even encouraged, those involved in the counter-
culture movement were willing to experiment with a variety of alternatives.
Interest in mysticism was rekindled, academic departments of comparative
religious studies began emerging, and traditions were often blended together
during this time of experimentation and renewed interest in Eastern knowl-
edge. Both perennial-oriented Sufism and traditional, Islamic Sufism, in
addition to numerous Sufi-inspired movements and organizations emerged
during this wave.
The perennial-oriented Sufism and Sufi-inspired movements flourished
among those who were seeking traditional and Eastern wisdoms but had
little regard for their historical or traditional foundations. For example, the
American Sufi dancing movement was inspired by American Sufi Samuel
Lewis (d. 1971), who was associated with Inayat Khan’s Sufi order.123
Although the dances are reportedly based on traditional practices, its contem-
porary form resembles folk dancing and incorporates meditative chants from
Hinduism, Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
Another example involves Frithjof Schuon, who moved to America in the
1970s and established a center in Bloomington, Indiana.124 Following sev-
eral visions of the Virgin Mary in which he reportedly received teachings,
he changed his order from the Alawi to the Maryami. Schuon’s approach
to Sufism was Traditionalist and had anti-modern elements. He mingled
Islam with Hinduism, Buddhism, and Native American traditions. This order
gained legitimacy when Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Iranian-American professor
of Islamic philosophy at George Washington University, joined and later

succeeded Schuon. Other notable scholars associated with this order include
Martin Lings, Titus Burckhardt, Victor Danner, and William Stoddart.125
Idries Shah played an important role in spreading Sufism as a perennial-
oriented philosophy during the second wave. Born in England of Afghani and
Scottish descent, he was also influenced by the writings of Gurdjieff.126 Idries
Shah was a prolific writer and his works include tales of Sufi Eastern wisdom
and parables which are tailored to a Western audience, using terminology that
does not associate Sufism with Islam.127 His deputy in America was psychol-
ogy professor Robert Ornstein, who merged Sufi concepts with psychology.128
Cultivating consciousness and psychological approaches to personal healing
and spiritual growth, particularly humanistic and transpersonal psychology,
increased in popularity in parallel to the perennial-oriented Sufi movements
during this era.129 This was especially the case in the San Francisco Bay area in
California. Sufi spiritualities inspired holistic therapeutic techniques as well as
were used alongside them, including Jungian psychology, transpersonal psy-
chologies (i.e., Ken Wilbur, Robert Ornstein, etc.), and ‘soul’ (nafs) psycholo-
gies (i.e., James Hillman and Thomas Moore). Adapting to the culture of the
time, Inayat Khan’s son Vilayat Khan rejuvenated the Sufi Order during the
1960s by incorporating holistic healing, New Age spirituality, and humanistic
sciences.130
In addition, a number of traditional forms of Sufism were brought to
America during this second wave. With more relaxed immigration laws
instigated in 1965, an increased number of shaykhs and Muslim immigrants
brought Islamic Sufism to America. These shaykhs were “more committed to
stressing the continuity of Sufism with Islam” than those who came to Amer-
ica during the first wave.131 It was during this time that Shaykh Asaf arrived in
North America from the former Yugoslavia. Many others could be mentioned
in addition to the following Sufi teachers. Shaykh Muzaffer Ozak (d. 1986),
from Istanbul, Turkey, brought the Khalwati-Jerrahi Ṭarīqa to America.132 Its
main location is in the New York City area where Tosun Bayrak and Shaykh
Nur Hixon (d. 1995) have been representatives, although there are several
other locations including in the San Francisco Bay area and Spring Valley,
New York Javad Nurbakhsh, an Iranian professor of psychiatry, established
the Nimatullahi Ṭarīqa in San Francisco, California. Bawa Muhaiyaddeen (d.
1986), a Sinhalese shaykh of the Qadiri Ṭarīqa, came to America upon the
request of a university student and founded a Sufi community in Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania.133
One of the most widespread and well-known Sufi orders in America is the
Naqshbandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa, headed by Shaykh Hisham Kabbani, successor
of the much beloved late Shaykh Nazim al-Kibrisi (d. 2014). A number of
Americans and Europeans have been initiated into the order since the late
44 Chapter 1
1970s, and it has active centers in San Francisco, California; Chicago, Illinois;
and Montreal, Canada. Shaykh Hisham settled in America in the early 1990s,
which places him in the next wave.
The third wave of Sufism in America is recognized by action taken by the
Sufi movements regarding issues of existence beyond the first generation and
also by increased involvement in political and international arenas. It often
involves an element of ethnicity as ṭarīqas become established in America
and American-born leaders are initiated. Continuing the discussion on the
Naqshbandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa, Shaykh Hisham’s transition to California in
1991 indicates that there was a need to establish leadership in America for
the local murīds. His presence has helped to increase the ṭarīqa’s membership
and hopefully will assure smooth succession. In addition, Shaykh Hisham has
worked hard to become a guiding presence among the Muslims and has con-
nected with national political figures. He has assisted in establishing several
organizations affiliated to the ṭarīqa that have educational, gender, and politi-
cal orientations including the Islamic Supreme Council of America, Kamilat
Muslim Women’s Organization, and the As-Sunnah Foundation of America.
In 1999, he met with President Clinton and the U.S. State Department to dis-
cuss the influence of extremist forms of Islam in American mosques.
Diverse Manifestations of Sufism in America

According to the observations of scholar Olav Hammer Westerners tend to
be highly individualistic, in search of quick returns, and generally “coddled,”
which impacts their religious preferences.134 For Sufism to survive in this
highly competitive religious environment, it has been adapted to the cultural
context in various degrees. As a result, Sufism in America refers to an assort-
ment of movements which represent a much more expansive view of relating
to the Divine than strictly through the Islamic tradition.
Scholars have suggested various typologies to make sense of the conglom-
eration of movements which refer to themselves as Sufism. However, diffi-
culty arises because of several factors. Firstly, the dynamic nature of a living
esoteric tradition defies fixed definitions. Labeling a community inadvertently
makes it seem as though in a timeless and changeless existence and does not
acknowledge natural developments and changes. Time is a central factor for
movements which engage in a process of acculturation. For example, while
conversion to Islam is now required of the Alami murīds, during the very
early stage of establishing the Alami Ṭarīqa in North America, the outward
form of Islam was downplayed, and the focus was on the inner meanings of
service and submission. Secondly, since categorization often involves evalu-
ations based on certain criteria, it often inadvertently reflects personal values
and emotions, and this can have residual impacts on scholarship and the
identity of the movements. The third complexity has to do with hermeneutics.

Clarity is sometimes difficult to achieve with typologies since words have
preestablished meanings and sometimes divergent connotations for different
individuals. Regardless of these potential deficiencies, typologies are often
useful because they offer simplified ways to look at complex phenomenon.
One method of classification of Sufism in America is to organize the
movements based on their ṭarīqa affiliations. This method establishes Islamic
legitimacy through links to succession of the silsila and is instructive by
chronicling the historical and traditional foundation. However, it does not
fit well with Sufi movements which are not associated with the customary
Muslim ṭarīqas, and it conveys minimal information about time-relative
practices and beliefs. Also, the clarity of this method is confused by devel-
opments which result from the interaction and merging of various ṭarīqas
and the acculturation with cultural particularities. Hermansen demonstrates
these complexities in her study of hybrid identity formations among the Sufi
movements.135 In her article, she documents thirteen major ṭarīqa lineages and
thirty-four Sufi movements in America and several in Canada. Regardless of
the disadvantages of this approach, it is favored in many instances.
An alternative method for categorizing Sufi movements is to organize them
according to their religious orientation and internal features. Hermansen cre-
ated a garden metaphor that distinguishes Sufi movements based on their
orientation to Islam and level of acculturation while including an underlying
ethnic element.136 The typology consists of: (1) hybrids, (2) perennials, and
(3) transplants. These names match the defining characteristics of their hor-
ticultural counterparts. Hybrids refer to Sufi movements which are oriented
toward Islam, but have accommodated to certain aspects of the Western
culture. These Sufi orders combine Islamic spirituality with esoteric teaching
examples that are familiar to Americans. The Alami Ṭarīqa and the Naqsh-
bandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa are two examples. Due to the affiliation with Islam,
these movements are typically led by Muslim immigrants, especially when
becoming established in the Western setting, and often consist of a mixture
of immigrant and non-immigrant members.

The second category is perennials, which emphasize the universal spiri-
tuality that transcends Islam. Hermansen encountered criticism concerning
this category because of the hermeneutic association with the Perennialist
philosophy as espoused by René Guénon and later Frithjof Schuon. However,
she clarified in her article “Hybrid Identity Formations in Muslim America:
The Case of American Sufi Movements” that this category was intended to
include both those who welcome any religious tradition as a valid spiritual
path and those who mingle elements from various religious traditions based
on a universal spiritual connection to the one source of Truth.137 Membership
tends to be mostly non-immigrant Westerners. An example is the Golden
46 Chapter 1
Sufi Center, formed in California by Vaughan-Lee based on the teachings of

Irina Tweedie, whose Sufi teacher was a practicing Hindu in the Naqshbandi-
Mujaddidi Ṭarīqa.138
The third category, transplants, refers to small groups of ethnic Muslim
immigrants who practice the traditional Sufism of their homelands and have
chosen not to adapt a great deal to the new context. These Sufi communities
resist accommodation to American culture. An example could be the Bektashi
Ṭarīqa, established in 1953 in Detroit, Michigan. This community has strong
links to the Albanian population at Lake Prespa in Macedonia. Frances Trix
discusses some of the difficulties encountered by this community, including
the tendency to view individuals of non-Albanian origin as threatening, par-
ticularly in reference to marriage.139 They struggle against the deterioration of
their culture and traditions. This category is limited in applicability because
of the natural process of acculturation over time to the local setting, and it is
unclear at which point a transplant movement becomes a hybrid.
An alternative typology is proposed by Alan Godlas, associate professor of
religion at the University of Georgia, on his website on “Sufism, Sufis, and
Sufi Orders.”140 Similarly to Hermansen, he considers religious orientation
to be important and notes various levels of dedication to Islam. In contrast,
though, he disregards ethnicity and instead includes a category for non-tra-
ditional Sufi movements which are based on an element of Sufism. As listed
on Godlas’ website, the categories include: (1) Islamic Sufi Orders of the
West, (2) Quasi-Islamic Sufi Organizations or Orders, (3) Non-Islamic Sufi
Organizations or Orders, and (4) Organizations or Schools Related to Sufism
or Sufi Orders. This classification brings to attention groups which draw their
inspiration from an aspect of Sufism, but are not Sufi orders. Two examples
are the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabi Society, formed to promote the writings of Ibn
‘Arabi,141 and the Naqshbandi Foundation for Islamic Education (NFIE),142
which unites academics with practicing Sufis. One difficulty with this typol-
ogy is, as Dickson found during his study of shaykhs in America, these cat-
egories hide the complexity and nuances of Sufism, for example, traditional
views among otherwise considered non-Islamic organization and progressive

and universalist ideas among those otherwise considered traditional orders.143
Another critique of this typology is its limited temporal dimension. As dis-
cussed previously, orientation to Islam can increase or decrease over time.
Sufi movements which began as “Quasi-Islamic Sufi organizations” may be
changing toward “Islamic Sufi Orders,” as the Alami Ṭarīqa did in the late
1970s, but this is not easily demonstrated using this typology.
Sharing elements from both Godlas and Hermansen’s categories while add-
ing another aspect, Ron Geaves presents a typology drawn from his research
in Britain.144 Uniquely, Geaves includes a category for Muslims who are not
formal members of a ṭarīqa or Sufi organization. His typology consists of:
1. Muslims who have an inclination toward the Ahle as-Sunnat wa Jamaat,

but are not murīds in a ṭarīqa. This accounts for numerous Muslims, espe-
cially those in ethnic communities, who hold moderate, spiritual beliefs
and may consult a shaykh periodically, but are not involved in the institu-
tional form of Sufism. It represents a cultural practice of Sufism.
2. Mostly ethnically homogenous ṭarīqas which adhere to sharī‘a law
3. Ethnically diverse ṭarīqas which adhere to sharī‘a law
4. “Universal Sufism” which does not require adherence to sharī‘a law.
Reflecting the qualities of Sufism in the United Kingdom, Geaves’ typology

has a strong focus on ethnicity and traditional ṭarīqas. It does not elaborate
on Sufi movements that are not ṭarīqas and the variations among those which
do not follow sharī‘a.
From Hermansen, Godlas, and Geaves’ typologies, it is apparent that Sufi
movements in the West vary regarding four components: (1) orientation to
Islam, (2) ethnic composition, (3) acculturation to the Western setting, and
(4) organizational components. Their religious orientations could be overtly
guided by Islam, they could include elements from other religions, or they
may not consider the Qur’an and sunna to be important. The membership var-
ies from ethnically heterogeneous to mostly homogeneous. Also, Sufi move-
ments have acculturated at different levels to the Western setting, with some
preferring to retain as much of their traditional customs as possible and others
dramatically altering to fit the environment. The organizational components
also vary with some being traditional ṭarīqas, others being New Age move-
ments or associations, and still others having no institutional form beyond a
fluid cultural practice of certain elements of Sufism. There are many degrees
within these four elements, and flexibility within this allows for changes over
time.
Characteristics of Sufism in America

Regardless of the cultural interactions and sharing of ideas which take place
and inevitable shared elements between Sufism in Western settings, there are
features of Sufism in America which make it distinct from Sufism in the Euro-
pean environment. While Sufism in Western countries exists on a continuum
between the traditional, Islamic institution of ṭarīqas and universal expres-
sions of Sufi spirituality, it appears that there are a greater number of non-
traditional variations of Sufism in America than in Europe. Employing the
language of Hermansen, there are more hybrid and perennial Sufi movements
in America than transplants. In contrast, in Britain, there are more transplant
Sufi ṭarīqas and fewer which creatively merge Sufism with Western culture,
other than those that separate it from Islam. This is observable in British
48 Chapter 1
Professor Ron Geaves’s typology, which groups all of the non-Islamic Sufi
movements into one category while elaborating on Islamic Sufism in rela-
tion to ethnicity in three other categories. This can be compared to American
Professor Godlas’ typology, which presents three categories of non-Islamic
or partially Islamic Sufi movements and only one Islamic. Further research
could explore whether the focus on ethnicity among British Sufi communities
and orientation to Islam among American Sufi communities is indicative of
broad differences between Sufism in Britain and America.
Notably, Hermansen discusses two areas in which she observes Sufism
participating in the intersection of Muslim and American cultures.145 These
include the “sphere of translation,” and the “sphere of institutions.” It is in
these areas of influence that Sufism blend with aspects of Western culture to
create something which may be considered uniquely American.
The sphere of translation includes, for example, intellectual endeavors,
arts, music, performances, conferences, publishing, psychology, holistic
healing, and recitations of the Qur’an.146 Hermansen found that the Islamic
Sufi movements usually publish translations and commentaries on traditional
texts, whereas the perennial-oriented Sufis tend to produce inspirational
teaching stories, quest novels, and books on psychology, particularly psycho-
logical approaches to personal growth and healing.147 It is within this sphere
of influence that holistic healing and perennial psychology are found.
The sphere of translation not only refers to texts, but also other expressions
of Sufism that have been adapted to the new setting. For example, Ameri-
cans, it has been suggested, are particularly fond of public performances,
which influences Sufism in America to be different from the more “sober”
Sufism typically found in Europe.148 Sufi and American identities have been
integrated particularly through creative expressions such as music and dance.
Daniel Sonneborn, in his study of dhikr performances at the Sami Mahal Sufi
Center in California, concludes that the music is distinctively American while
remaining true to the essential elements of Islamic Sufism.149 The perfor-
mances of the Dances of Universal Peace,150 provides another example of this
meeting point. This movement was inspired by American Sufi teacher Samuel
Lewis of the Chishti Ṭarīqa. An additional illustration in this sphere would
be Coleman Barks’ public and dramaticized recitations of his translations of
Rumi’s thirteenth-century Sufi poetry.
In addition to “translations,” the second area of intersection of Sufism and
Americanism, according to Hermansen, is the “sphere of institutions.”151 In
an attempt to create sacred space in America, Sufis have established numer-
ous centers across the continent including mosques, tekiyas, and places called
maqāms that have been dedicated to a Sufi shaykh or wali (saint, friend of
God) and are considered to contain the baraka (spiritual blessings) of that
person even if he or she never visited it. An example is the building at the
Haqqani Da’wa Center in Michigan, which is dedicated to Shaykh Abdullah

al-Faizi al-Daghestani, Shaykh Nazim’s teacher. The practice of establishing
tomb shrines for pilgrimage is also present in America, such as the grave
of Samuel Lewis in New Mexico and the mazār of Bawa Muhaiyadeen
in Pennsylvania. While reverence for shrines remains, expecially among
those from South Asian and Middle Eastern cultures, Westerlund notes that
Western culture has tempered this type of devotion as well as the practice of
spiritual healings, both of which resemble superstitious practices for many
Americans.152
An issue of much debate for Sufis in America is the acceptable level of
acculturation. How much can or should Sufism be integrated with aspects of
the Western setting? This involves considerations regarding authenticity and
brings into question the extent to which the movements in America should
retain or adopt traditions common to Sufi movements in Islamic cultures.
Many in America argue that blending into Western society makes the Sufi
movement more authentic than taking on foreign cultural mannerisms.
There is also pressure that religious converts may experience to change
the less-accepted features of their new religions. In particular, the involve-
ment of women has been an issue of debate. While women are often par-
ticipants in ṭarīqas in the East, opportunities for distinguished leadership are
typically limited unless it is within a women-only Sufi circle. In America,
normative Islamic and Middle Eastern cultural concepts of gender roles are
being challenged. Interestingly, Dickson found that most of the Sufi teach-
ers he interviewed in America were surprised by his question concerning
“women’s capacity to act as spiritual guides,”153 and all, without exception,
confirmed that men and women have the same “spiritual aptitude.”154 Many
of the shaykhs in their studies affirmed that in their communities there is no
distinction made between men and women. Two examples of female shaykhs
among the American Sufi movements include: Shaykha Fariha Fatima of the
Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order in New York City, who was initiated by Shaykh
Muzaffer Ozak in 1980,155 and Rabia Martin, who was made the head of the
Sufi Movement in America by Inayat Khan in 1912, but was not universally
accepted by as the leader by members outside of the United States.156 Dur-
ing Dickson’s interview with Kabir Helminski of the Threshold Society, the
shaykh commented they allow women in their community to call the adhan
and sometimes lead the congregational prayers, based on their interpretations
of Islamic sources permitting this behavior, although they maintain a certain
level of gender separation during both prayer and dhikr.157
In addition, a significant number of Sufi movements in America are struc-
tured differently than traditional Sufi ṭarīqas. Customarily, murīds gather
around a shaykh for spiritual guidance with the structure resembling a trian-
gle. In this analogy, the shaykh is at the top, representing Prophet Muhammad
50 Chapter 1
through the silsila, followed by the murīds who are most dedicated and clos-
est to him, moving to those who are less involved, then those who are muhibs,
or “lovers” of Sufism but who are not murīds, and on to other associates with
undefined relations to the shaykh.158 In the traditional Ottoman cultural style,
complete reverence is expected of murīds to the shaykh, who is called Baba,
or father, and there are strict rules governing the behavior of the murīds. Sufi
orders that diverge from this model usually have differing ranks or increas-
ing responsibilities of members and offer some type of personal instruction
including guidance with practices, but there can be significant differences
from the traditional form of leadership, with some resembling a democratic
organization. However, this varies depending on the type of movement, lead-
ership style, and size of the membership.
An example is found among the Khalwati-Jerrahi Order of the late Shaykh
Muzaffer Ozak, which has developed branches with distinct cultural adapta-
tions. While the branch of the Halveti-Jerrahi Order of Dervishes mostly
upholds the traditional form of leadership, the Nur Ashki branch led by
Fariha Friedrich and Lex Hixon (Nur al-Jerrahi) made changes regarding the
teacher-student relationship, most noticeably by treating murīds more like
companions than children of the shaykh.159 This shift has not reduced the
importance of the shaykh, but allows for discussions, questions, and other
interactions that would be considered culturally inappropriate in the strict-
est traditional form of the teacher-student relationship. Friedrich and Hixon
consider these changes to be in line with what Shaykh Muzaffer started in
his adaptations to the American context, where critical thinking and deeper
questioning are encouraged as part of the culture.160
Also, participation in Sufi seminars, conferences, and retreats is considered
by Hermansen to be a distinct quality of Sufism in America.161 For example,
the International Association of Sufism holds an annual Sufi symposium, now
on its twenty-second year, which it advertises on its website as a “weekend
of unity and self discovery . . . bringing together delegates from Sufi Orders
of many cultures and backgrounds.”162 Those interested in retreats may con-
sider the “Inayati Silent Retreat with Pir Zia Inayat-Khan and Friends,” held
September 2016 in New York, which is open for anyone to attend.163 Also,
Coleman Barks, a popular American translator of Rumi’s poetry, is known
for his performances of recitations with musical accompaniment, such as the
event sponsored by the University of Georgia in June 2016.164 This demon-
strates some of the ways Sufi movements have adapted to the Western seeker
and American environment.
Since the attacks of September 2001, Sufis have been put in the awkward
position in the West of being referred to as the “good” Muslims as opposed
to the abstract concept of “bad” Muslims. This is typically a politically
motivated statement that disempowers an already marginalized religious
community. As Omid Safi expressed, it places Sufis in the unfair situation of

being “asked to line up in the politically quietist camp, so that they can be
validated” by non-Muslim Westerners.165 The other side of the coin is to be
grouped with Muslim terrorists, being guilty by association with Islam. This
over simplified association does not solve the underlying issues of unrest
between the West and Islam.
Against popular belief, Sufis are not passive participants in society. They
have historically been active in politics, often serving as advisors to emper-
ors and being involved in popular struggles against tyrannical and colonial
powers. As Paul Heck offers, “It is best to speak of the politics of Sufism
in terms of engaged distance—engaged with society but in principle distant
from worldly power” (italics in original).166 For example, a number of ṭarīqas
were instrumental in opposing imperial and colonial powers in the nine-
teenth century with their extensive networking, spiritual training, and fight-
ing including against the Russians in the North Caucasus167 and the French
in North Africa.168 Also, the Bektashi Ṭarīqa was associated with the elite
Janissaries of the Ottoman military for centuries.169 Additionally, Sufis may
engage with politics through participation in humanitarian activities, educa-
tional programs, and interfaith gatherings, often acting as ethical guides in
the midst of society.
The actions of the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa provide an example of
Sufis taking a stand regarding Sufism and its position within Islam. There
are several organizations associated with this ṭarīqa including the As-Sunnah
Foundation of America (ASFA) and the more visible Islamic Supreme Coun-
cil of America (ISCA). The former strives to unite the Muslims in America
through education and by making original sources of Islamic knowledge
from the various schools of fiqh (jurisprudence) available and accessible. The
latter organization, which is more controversial, presents itself as a resource
for Muslims in America to help develop moral excellence, advance correct
knowledge about Islamic beliefs and practices based on original Islamic
sources, and provide “practical solutions” and assist with issues that arise
from living in this secular, Western society.170 According to the ISCA mission
statement on its website, it also aims to work with non-Muslim individuals
and organizations to “present Islam as a religion of moderation, tolerance,
peace and justice” and further the connection with Judaism and Christianity.
In other words, the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa has attempted to position
itself as a legitimate source representing moderate Islam in America. This
position was demonstrated when Shaykh Hisham made the statement to
the U.S. State Department in 1999 concerning the apparent overwhelming
spread of extremist Islam among eighty percent of Muslims in America. This
statement offended a number of Muslims and Muslim organizations includ-
ing those which also claimed to represent moderate Islam, such as Islamic
52 Chapter 1
Society of North America (ISNA), and inadvertently created additional dif-

ficulty between Sufis and other Muslims in America.
Furthermore, the equation of Sufism with “good” and Islam with “evil”
serves to conceptually separate Sufis from Islam, and it assumes incorrectly
that the beliefs and practices of Sufis innately differ from other Muslims. This
is not the case except among those movements which have been inspired by
Sufism and identify themselves as Sufi but do not espouse Islam. These move-
ments are not part of traditional Sufism, but must be understood as a newer
development.
From his research on the Sufis in New York City following September 11,
2001, Markus Dressler offers three “ideal-typical Sufi-Muslim responses” to
the American environment: (1) criticism and seclusion, (2) active involve-
ment within society while maintaining a distinct identity through religious
and cultural aspects, and (3) merging Sufi-Muslim and American identi-
ties to create an “American Islam.”171 The first response is typified by the
Naqshbandi-Haqqani Ṭarīqa community in Manhattan headed by Shaykh
Abdul Kerim, a Turkish-Cypriot and reportedly a khalīfa (representative) of
the late Shaykh Nazim. Shaykh Abdul Kerim considers American society to
be overwhelmed with dangers for the Muslim and urges his ethnically diverse
community not to get involved in it more than what is necessary. Belief that
the world is ending soon provides support for this seclusion from society, in
preference for spending time improving the self. The second response is to
have patriotism for both America and for an original homeland, and to retain
a connection to the homeland through cultural activities and language. This
is demonstrated by the Murīd Sufi Movement, started by Shaykh Amadou
Bamba of Senegal, which is active in American society and proudly displays
American and Senegalese flags both in daily life and during cultural events.
The third ideal-typical response by Muslim Sufis in America is blend-
ing the Islamic and American identities. This is exemplified by the Alami
Ṭarīqa, which embodies the concept of American Islam by consisting mostly
of American citizens who live according to sharī‘a law. While holding mil-
lenarian beliefs that the Last Days are approaching, Shaykh Asaf encourages
his community to be active in the world and to help alleviate the suffering of
others. Another example of blending the American and Sufi identity is Imam
Feisal Abdul Rauf of the Shadhili-Qadiri Ṭarīqa, who is the leader behind
the proposed Park51 community project near Ground Zero. He and his wife,
Daisy Khan, actively support a joint American-Muslim identity and promote
the concept that “core Islamic values overlap with core American values.”172
Imam Rauf encourages the development of a healthy American Muslim iden-
tity that is “fully Islamic, fully American, and fully committed to the values
of the Abrahamic ethic.”173
CONCLUSIONS
In light of globalization, the American constitutional right to religious free-

dom has given rise to a pluralistic religious environment. Regardless of the
forces of secularization, religion remains important to a large number of
Americans, although they are increasingly involved in religious and spiritual
alternatives to the mainstream traditions and using technology in unprec-
edented ways. Sufism is present and expanding in modern America as an
alternative option, contrary to the earlier assumptions of many scholars that
Sufism was moribund.
Sufism entered into America in two main waves, the first of which occurred
in the early 1900s while being propagated as a universal spirituality from the
East. The second took place in connection to the counterculture of the 1960s
and 1970s, when a greater number of Sufis from Muslim countries immi-
grated to the United States and there was heightened interest in alternative
religions among Americans. Presently, Sufism has entered into a third phase
which involves establishing firm roots in the American setting and increased
political activism.
Sufism has become manifested in very diverse ways, challenging the
traditional concept of it as Islamic mysticism. While some Sufi movements
conform closely to Sufi ṭarīqas found in Muslim countries, others resemble
the New Age phenomena and lack an Islamic foundation. They tend to dif-
fer regarding four elements: (1) orientation to Islam, (2) ethnic composition,
(3) acculturation to the Western setting, and (4) organizational components.
These differences reflect the negotiation of religion and personal identities in
modern times in relation to both Islam and the West.
Although Sufism in America inevitably shares characteristics with Sufism
in other Western settings, it is distinct from Sufism elsewhere regarding a
number of issues. Noticeably, the variations in its acculturation are substan-
tial, particularly in religious orientation and organizational features. Also,
Americanized qualities of Sufism are most clearly identified in the two areas
of “translation” and “institutions.” The former includes publications, public

performances, and artistic expressions, while the latter refers to the creation
of sacred spaces such as mosques, tekiyas, tomb shrines, and maqāms. Sufi
movements in America are also testing appropriate levels of acculturation
regarding gender roles and leadership, as detected in a tendency among
some Sufis to have more than one shaykh, attend conferences where several
shaykhs are speakers, and sometimes have women as Sufi leaders. The Sufis
in America are vibrant, diverse, and eclectic. They are actively navigating
their identities in relation to both Islam and the West. This diversity is the
modern expression of Sufism in the United States.
54 Chapter 1
NOTES
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71. William C. Chittick, “The Divine Roots of Human Love,” The Muhyiddin Ibn
‘Arabi Society, accessed August 12, 2016, http://www.ibnarabisociety.org/articles/
divinerootsoflove.html.
72. Personal communication with Shaykh Asaf, January 23, 2011.
73. Badi’ al-Zaman Furuzanfar, Aḥadīth-I mathnawi (Hadith Sayings in the Mas-
navi) no. 42 (Tehran: Chapkhan-i Danishgah, 1334/1956), 18–19.
74. Fadiman and Frager, Essential Sufism, 5.
75. Jean-Louis Michon, “The Spiritual Practices of Sufism,” in Islamic Spiritual-
ity: Foundations, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr (New York: Crossroad Publishing Com-
pany, 1987), 272.
76. William Chittick, Sufism: A Short Introduction (Oxford: Oneworld, 2000), 16.
77. Michael Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism (New York: Paulist Press, 1996),
22–23.
78. Farid al-Din Attar, Muslim Saints and Mystics, trans. A. J. Arberry (Boston:
Routledge, 1976), 264.
79. Din Attar, Muslim Saints and Mystics, 264.
80. Peter Wilson, “The Strange Fate of Sufism,” 201.
81. Richard Eaton, “Sufis as Warriors,” in Sufism: Critical Concepts in Islamic
Studies, 2, ed. Lloyd Ridgeon (London: Routledge, 2008).
82. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam. Nehemia Levtzion, ed., Conversion
to Islam (London: Holmes and Meier, 1979).
83. Martin Van Bruinessen and Julia Day Howell, eds. Sufism and the ‘Modern’
in Islam (London: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd.), 7.
84. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism, 199–202.
85. Van Bruinessen and Day Howell, Sufism and the ‘Modern’ in Islam, 7.
86. See Arberry’s Sufism and Baldick’s, Mystical Islam.
87. Arberry, Sufism, 122.
88. Clifford Geertz, The Religion of Java (Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press, 1960).
Ernest Gellner, Muslim Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).
89. Valerie J. Hoffman, Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt (Columbia,
SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1995).
90. Julia Day Howell, “Sufism and the Indonesian Islamic Revival,” Journal of
Asian Studies, 60, no. 3 (2001): 702–03, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2700107.
91. Elizabeth Sirriyeh, Sufis and Anti-Sufis: The Defence, Rethinking and Rejec-
tion of Sufism in the Modern World (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press, 1999).
92. Frederick De Jong and Bernd Radtke, eds., Mysticism Contested: Thirteen
Cenuries of Controversies and Polenics (Leiden: Brill, 1999).
93. The term “neo-Sufism” was in existence in the time of Ahmed Sirhindi (d.
1624), an Islamic scholar and reformer from the Punjab.
58 Chapter 1
94. Fazlur Rahman, Islam (Garden City, NY: Doubleday-Anchor, 1966).

95. Itzchak Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya: Orthodoxy and Activism in a World-
wide Sufi Tradition (New York: Routledge, 2007).
96. Day Howell, “Sufism and the Indonesian Islamic Revival,” 712.
97. Olav Hammer, “Sufism for Westerners,” in Sufism in Europe and North
America, ed. David Westerlund (London: Routledge Curzon, 2004), 139.
98. R. S. O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke, “Neo-Sufism Reconsidered,” in Sufism:
Critical Concepts in Islamic Studies, ed. Lloyd Ridgeon, 2 (London: Routledge,
2008).
99. For an excellent discussion on the influence of Sufism on American literary
circles in the ninenteenth century, see Mehdi Aminrazavi, Sufism and American Liter-
ary Masters (Albany: SUNY Press, 2014).
100. Hammer, “Sufism for Westerners,” 129.
101. Marcia Hermansen, “What’s American About American Sufi Movements,”
in Sufism in Europe and North America, ed. David Westerlund (London: Routledge
Curzon, 2004), 42.
102. Gisela Webb, “Third-Wave Sufism in America and the Bawa Muhaiyaddeen
Fellowship,” in Sufism in the West, ed. J. Malik and J. Hinnells (London: Routledge,
2006), 89.
103. Hermansen, “Hybrid Identity Formations in Muslim America.”
104. Mark Sedgwick, Against the Modern World: Traditionalism and the secret
intellectual history of the twentieth century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004),
21–23.
105. Ali Köse, Conversion to Islam: A Study of Native British Converts (London:
Kegan Paul International, 1996), 147.
106. Smith, Islam in America, 69. Yasin Dutton, “Conversion to Islam: The
Qur’anic Paradigm,” in Religious Conversion: Contemporary Practices and Contro-
versies, ed. C. Lamb and M. Bryant (London: Cassell, 1999), 163.
108. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism, 9.
109. For examples, see ‘Abdullah Noorudeen Durkee’s book Embracing Islam:
Some Extracts from The Book of Exile and an Account of Time Spent in the Interzone
(Keene, VA: Green Mountain School, 1992) and Nuh Ha Mim Keller’s essay “From
an American Catholic to One of the Leading Contemporary Scholars of Islam,” http://
www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/nuh/bmuslim.htm, accessed August 8, 2016.

110. Webb, “Third-Wave Sufism,” 87.
111. For a more detailed exploration of the beginnings of Sufism in the West, I
recommend William R. Dickson’s book, Living Sufism in North America, 55–80.
113. Mark Sedgwick, “Western Sufism and Traditionalism,” Den gamle nyre-
ligiøsitet, Vestens glemte kulturarv (Old New Religiousness: The West’s forgotten
cultural heritage), ed. Mette Buchardt and Pia Böwadt (Copenhagen: Anis, 2003),
accessed August 15, 2016, http://www.traditionalists.org/write/WSuf.htm.
114. David Westerlund, ed., Sufism in Europe and North America (London: Rout-
ledge Curzon, 2004), 20.
115. Dickson, Living Sufism in North America, 74–79.

116. Other significant changes were also implemented based on Western culture,
such as a democratic system of leadership. Inayat Khan found that his students in the
West were unprepared for the traditional murīd-shaykh relationship. Karin Jironet,
Sufi Mysticism into the West: Life and Leadership of Hazrat Inayat Khan’s Brothers
1927–1967 (Leuven, Belgium: Peeters, 2009).
117. Westerlund, Sufism in Europe and North America, 21
118. Hammer, “Sufism for Westerners,” 132
119. Dickson, Living Sufism in North America, 72.
120. Sedgwick, “Western Sufism and Traditionalism.”
121. Sedgwick, “Western Sufism and Traditionalism.”
124. Hammer, “Sufism for Westerners,” 132–33.
126. Westerlund, Sufism in Europe and North America, 21.
128. Hermansen, “What’s American About American Sufi Movements,” 53.
131. Webb, “Third-Wave Sufism,” 70–71.
134. Hammer, “Sufism for Westerners,” 127.
136. Marcia Hermansen, “In the Garden of American Sufi Movements: Hybrids
and Perennials,” in New Trends and Developments in the World of Islam, ed. Peter
Clarke (London: Luzac Oriental, 1998).
138. Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee, “Neither of the East nor of the West: The Journey
of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya from India to America,” accessed February 28,
2011, http://www.goldensufi.org/article_eastwest.html.
139. France Trix, “Bektashi Tekke and the Sunni Mosque of Albanian Muslims in
America,” in Muslim Communities in North America, ed. Y. Y. Haddad and J. I. Smith
(Albany: State Universtiy of New York Press, 1994).

140. “Sufism—Sufis—Sufi Orders,” accessed July 20, 2016, http://www.uga.edu/
islam/sufismwest.html.
141. “Ibn Arabi Society,” accessed August 29, 2010, http://www.ibnarabisociety.
org/.
142. “Naqshbandiya Foundation for Islamic Education,” accessed August 29,
2016, http://www.nfie.com/welcome/index.asp.
144. Geaves, The Sufis of Britain: An Exploration of Muslim Identity, 72.
145. Hermansen, “Hybrid Identity Formations in Muslim America,” 178.
60 Chapter 1

149. Sonneborn, Music and Meaning.
150. See http://www.dancesofuniversalpeacena.org/, accessed July 15, 2010.
152. Westerlund, Sufism in Europe and North America, 34.
155. “Shaykha Fatima Fariha al-Jerrahi,” accessed August 20, 2016, http://nurash-
kijerrahi.org/lineage/fariha-fatima/.
156. Hermansen, “In the Garden of American Sufi Movements,” 64.
158. Ron Geaves provides an alternative diagram of the spheres of relations
between the shaykh and Ahle as-Sunnat wa Jamaat in his book The Sufis of Britain:
An Exploration of Muslim Identity, 76.
162. “Sufism Symposium,” International Association of Sufism, accessed August
20, 2016, https://ias.org/programs/sufismsymposium/.
163. “Inayati Order,” accessed August 20, 2016, http://inayatiorder.org/.
164. Fleming Smith, “Athens Poet Coleman Barks to Give Reading for Poetry
Series,” Online Athens, June 14, 2016, accessed August 20, 2016, http://onlineathens.
com/mobile/2016–06–14/athens-poet-coleman-barks-give-reading-poetry-series.
165. Omid Safi, “Good Sufi, Bad Muslims,” Sightings, The Marin Marty Center
for the Advanced Study of Religion, last modified January 27, 2011, accessed May 6,
2011, http://divinity.uchicago.edu/martycenter/publications/sightings/archive_2011/
0127.shtml.
166. Paul L. Heck, “The Politics of Sufism: Is there One?” in Sufism Today, ed.
Catharina Raudvere and Leif Stenberg (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009).
167. See Galina M. Yemelianova, “Sufism and Politics in the North Caucasus,”
Nationalities Papers 29, no. 4 (2001), doi.10.1080/00905990120102138.
168. Fait Muedini, “Sufism and Anti-Colonial Violent Resistance Movements:
The Qadiriyya and Sanussi Orders in Algeria and Libya,” Open Theology 1, no. 1
(2015), doi: 10.1515/opth-2015–0003.

169. Rahman, Islam, 2nd edition, 151.
170. See http://www.islamicsupremecouncil.org/home/about-us.html.
171. Markus Dressler, “Pluralism and Authenticity: Sufi Paths in Post-9/11 New
York,” in Sufis in Western Society, ed. Ron Geaves, Markus Dressler, Gritt Klinkham-
mer (London: Routledge, 2009), 80–81.
172. Feisal Abdul Rauf, What’s Right with Islam Is What’s Right with America
(New York: HarperOne, 2004), 1.
173. Rauf, What’s Right with Islam Is What’s Right with America, 260.

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36

develops, until any attachment to the shaykh is recognized as unnecessary

sometimes outlandish and unexpected, forms.”80 These expressions of devotion,

SUFISM AND MODERNITY

spiritual fulfilment. Ali Köse, in his study of converts to Islam in Great

it does have some impact, as demonstrated by a glance at the biographies and

of Islamic philosophy at George Washington University, joined and later

Diverse Manifestations of Sufism in America

identity of the movements. The third complexity has to do with hermeneutics.

of immigrant and non-immigrant members.

Sufi Center, formed in California by Vaughan-Lee based on the teachings of

views among otherwise considered non-Islamic organization and progressive

1. Muslims who have an inclination toward the Ahle as-Sunnat wa Jamaat,

Reflecting the qualities of Sufism in the United Kingdom, Geaves’ typology

Characteristics of Sufism in America

Haqqani Da’wa Center in Michigan, which is dedicated to Shaykh Abdullah

community. As Omid Safi expressed, it places Sufis in the unfair situation of

Society of North America (ISNA), and inadvertently created additional dif-

In light of globalization, the American constitutional right to religious free-

of “translation” and “institutions.” The former includes publications, public

23. Celia A. Genn, “The Development of a Modern Western Sufism,” in Sufism

45. Umar F. Abd-Allah, A Muslim in Victorian America: The Life of Alexander

versity of North Carolina Press, 1975), 10–11.

68. S. Sh. Kh. Hussaini, “Abu Abd-Al-Rahman Solami,” in Encyclopædia

94. Fazlur Rahman, Islam (Garden City, NY: Doubleday-Anchor, 1966).

www.masud.co.uk/ISLAM/nuh/bmuslim.htm, accessed August 8, 2016.

115. Dickson, Living Sufism in North America, 74–79.

(Albany: State Universtiy of New York Press, 1994).

147. Hermansen, “Hybrid Identity Formations in Muslim America,” 178.

(2015), doi: 10.1515/opth-2015–0003.

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