Most adults will remember the childhood experience of turning around in place until becoming so dizzy it was necessary to stop. Frequently grown-ups would intervene so we would not faint or fall.
Most probably, there was nothing spiritual about that experience. However, it is just possible that, as children, we wanted obscurely to get some sense of a heightened consciousness. Without knowing what we were doing, we may have been trying to trans-port ourselves into a different world.
That’s what happens with the whirling dervishes, members of an ancient order of Sufis who dance ritually as an act of worship. For the first time in my life, I saw a group do this dance before a hushed and respectful audience. Beforehand, we were instructed not to applaud at the end because this was not a performance but rather a sacred event.
The ritual may go back to the beginning of Islam in the seventh century. However, the whirling dervishes are associated with the great Muslim poet and mystic Rumi who lived from 1207 to 1273. He is closely identified with one of the Sufi orders, the name being derived from either the Arabic word for wool or the Greek word for wisdom.
Before the ceremony, some twenty-five figures emerged on stage, all of them robed in black, wearing tall cone-shaped grain-colored felt hats, and some of them carry-ing musical instruments. After taking their places, a dozen or so came forward and shed their black robes, revealing long white skirts and blouses of the same color and material.
As the plaintive music began, the dancers started to whirl. They turned in place, over and over for what seemed to me a half-hour. To the dervishes it probably seemed timeless, thanks to their altered state of consciousness. The very name “dervish,” a Persian word meaning “threshold” suggests what the experience means.
Ideally, the whirling brings the dancers to the very edge of enlightenment. They enter into a kind of trance in which spirit is revealed as the deepest reality. They may have been repeating all the while the basic words of the Islamic faith, “There is no God but God” further defining the dance as an act of worship.
To be frank, I found myself as a mere spectator brought close to sleep. The inten-sity of watching men repeat the same motions over and over was too much for me to bear. Were I more familiar with the Sufi tradition, presumably it would have been easier to enter into the inner experience of the dervishes.
Nonetheless, the spectacle had great style and beauty. Especially notable was the doffing of the outer garments revealing the white ones beneath. The change was symbol-ic: the dark clothes represents the world and its evils, while the white shows the blessed condition of people united to God.
I talked about the dervishes with a scholar, Nur Yalman , Professor of Social Anthropology at Harvard who was also in attendance. Thoroughly familiar with the rite and its history, Prof. Yalman described the experience as “beautiful.” To him, the dance represents “the rising up of the human spirit to a space between man and God.”
He sees special meaning in the hand gestures made by the dancers. “When they open up their right hand, they receive blessings from God; when they open their left, they pass on the blessings to people on earth.”
The total effect on people who witness the dance is precious. “The emphasis on love is valuable,” says Prof. Yalman, “and brings people together.”
Incidentally, the whirling dervishes were present in connection with an unusual exhibit in Harvard’s Sackler Museum. Called “Letters in Gold,” this exhibition displays calligraphy from the Ottoman empire. Calligraphy (beautiful writing) holds a vital place in Islamic art and worship and has been called “music for the eyes.”
Among the connections between the calligraphy and the dance is the following fact. The reed from which comes the flute-like instrument used in the dance is the same reed from which the “Kalem” or reed pen used in calligraphy.
Much of the writing reproduces chapters from the Qur’an, the holy book of the Is-lamic faith. It is revered as the word of God received by the prophet Mohammed in the seventh century.
Though I myself brought precious little previous knowledge to this display, the artistry behind the beautiful writing and the depth of spiritual feeling stirred my soul.
Richard Griffin