The Greatest Name of God: ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib as a cosmic image in Rajab al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār

Abstract

ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/661)—a revered figure in Islamic history as both the first Shiʿi imam and the fourth caliph—serves as a significant image of sacral power in the Persianate world and beyond. ʿAlī's authority underwent a profound reimagining in the early modern era as he emerged as a captivating imperial emblem from the Timurid renaissance to the Safavid revolution, rivalling other prominent figures of political authority such as Chinggis Khan (d. 1227), and becoming a symbol of human perfection for both Sunni and Shiʿi intellectuals alike. ʿAlī transcended his role as a Shiʿi imam to assume the status of a cosmic figure, gradually becoming an ideal symbol for imperial branding. However, there is little scholarly knowledge and appreciation of his changing role in this period. This article examines how al-Ḥāfiẓ Rajab al-Bursī's (d. circa 814/1411) Mashāriq al-anwār, which has remained highly popular throughout the Persianate and Shiʿi world, contributed to the reshaping of ʿAlī's image, portraying him as the quintessential archetype of sacral power and unmatched authoritative feats.

Introduction

In the pivotal Battle of Chaldirān (d. 920/1514), Shah Ismāʿīl (d. 930/1524), the magnetic architect of the Safavid empire, found himself facing the formidable army of Sultan Selīm (d. 926/1520). Confronted with the undeniable numerical advantage of his Ottoman adversary, Shah Ismāʿīl recognised the need for more than just military might to inspire his troops. Indeed, he drew on the sacral power of the first Shiʿi imam ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib to bolster the morale and determination of his soldiers:

Inform Sultan Selīm that although I may not wield the force necessary to subdue your formidable army of ninety thousand, I have mustered these eighteen thousand troops, placing my trust in the unyielding spirit of the conqueror of Khaybar's Gate, the invincible lion of God, who reigns supreme over all, the awe-inspiring marvel, the heir of the Prophet, the imam of the Occident and the Orient, the sovereign of all mankind, the lion of God, the walī of the Almighty, the last Prophet's son-in-law, the radiant sun and moon, the vision of the discerning eye, the foremost among just rulers, the fearless and audacious Ḥaydar, the commander of the believers, ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.¹

The Safavid emperor was not the first world conqueror in the early modern Islamic world to strive for the sacral power of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.² In fact, in harnessing ʿAlī's spiritual authority, the zealous Twelver Shiʿi emperor was following in the footsteps of his Sunni predecessor, Timūr (d. 807/1405), who presided over one of the most formidable empires of the early modern era.³ Muslim Mongol rulers had previously aspired to balance two distinct models of legitimacy rooted in Turco–Mongolian and Perso–Islamic traditions, with Chinggisid authority serving as the linchpin of this emerging political framework—an archetype that post-Ilkhānid dynasties such as Jalāyirids also strived to wield effectively.⁴ However, Timūr's Islamic legacy acquired a notably Shiʿi character when Ulugh Beg erected a cenotaph at Timūr's tomb, symbolising the emperor as the incarnation of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.⁵ Timūr's genealogy, as documented on his mausoleum in Samarqand, alludes to the creation of his ancestor Alan Qo'a from a ray of light—a concept intriguingly akin to the early Shiʿi traditions that centred on the theme of light. As Michal Biran writes:

the divine light which impregnated Alan Qo'a [the mythical ancestor Chinggis Khan] is therefore connected to God's hidden light emanating through Adam via the Prophet Muhammad into the family of ʿAlī, Muhammad's cousin and son-in-law and the founder of Shiʿi Islam, thereby creating a connection between the families of Chinggis Khan, Tamerlane, and the Prophet.⁶

The enduring allure of ʿAlī unquestionably persisted beyond Timūr's era, as is best demonstrated by the discovery of the alleged shrine of ʿAlī at Balkh, now known as Mazār-i Sharīf, during the reign of the Timurid Sultan Ḥusayn Bāyqurā (d. 911/1506). This site, which, during Seljuq Sultan Sanjar's (d. 552/1157–1158) reign, was previously linked to ʿAlī's shrine, drew the attention of the Sufi ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī (d. 871/1492) and his disciple ʿAbd al-Ghafūr Lārī (d. 912/1506). The site remained under the control of Timurid appointees and continued to attract a substantial influx of pilgrims.⁷ It seems that Sultan Ḥusayn promoted the site as an alternative pilgrimage destination, as a substitute for the traditional pilgrimage to Mecca.⁸ From Timūr and his descendants to other ‘avatars of ʿAlī’, such as Sayyid Muḥammad Nūrbakhsh (d. 869/1464), the giver of light, or Muhammad ibn Falāḥ Mushaʿshaʿa (d. 866/1462), the captivating imperial magnetism of ʿAlī was undeniably connected to the manner in which both Shiʿi and Sunni intellectual circles reimagined and reinvented his image in their literary creations during this era.⁹ Premodern and early modern Persian poetry, for instance, abound with poetic reverence for ʿAlī that transcends sectarian affiliations. An example of such devotion can be found in the works of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Jāmī—a Sunni Sufi affiliated with the Naqshbandiyya order, as demonstrated in a poem composed during his sojourn in Iraq:

I pledge myself as your pilgrim, protector of Najaf

My life is dedicated to your sacred shrine.

You are the direction of prayers and the refuge for the needy,

The face of hope turns toward you with longing.

I kiss the threshold of your majestic palace,

In the eyes, tears of apology for our shortcomings flow.

Should the jewel-like tears adorning my eyes, veiling my sight,

Grace the rug of your tomb, it would be an honor so bright.

I find joy in joining the ranks of your sacred shrine's servants,

Aspiring to redeem a life misspent, making amends.

I have turned to you from every corner of the world,

where I shelter and shed tears for the sorrows of time.

I aspire my heart to hear the divine decree:

‘Fear not’, through the gracious stroke of your pen's generosity.

The marvel that no eye has seen a yellow moon,

For your beauty's moon shines golden, like the radiant sun.¹⁰

Jāmī's reverence for ʿAlī is not a singular case in the Sunni intellectual milieu of that era;¹¹ rather, it exemplifies the wider attraction of ʿAlī as an enduring symbol of walāya.¹² While the Muslim ʿAlī and the ‘infidel’ Chinggis might, at first glance, appear to share little common ground, the two of them emerged as figures that appealed to emperors and intellectuals in the premodern and early modern Persianate world, drawing the admiration of both groups.¹³ As Azfar Moin has argued, during this time, ʿAlī is not only revered as a Sufi figure or celestial and cosmic authority, but also depicted as Islam's ultimate warrior in epic narratives such as ʿAlī-nāma (Book of ʿAlī) or Khāwar-nāma (Book of Khāwar).¹⁴ ʿAlī-nāma stands as a compelling exemplar of this epic portrayal of ʿAlī. The able Iranian scholar and book's editor Muḥammad Riḍā Shafīʿī Kadkanī described it as ‘a Shiʿi epic from the 11^th century’ patterned after Ḥakīm Abū al-Qāsim Firdawsī's (d. 416/1020) famous Shāh-nāma (Book of Kings), with 12,000 verses recounting the courageous and heroic characters and attributes of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib.¹⁵

Khāwar-nāma holds even greater relevance for our purposes here because it was composed by Ibn Ḥusām Khūsafī (d. 875/1471) during the Timurid era, making it contemporaneous with Rajab al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār. Similarly to ʿAlī-nāma, Khāwar-nāma follows the stylistic tradition of Shāh-nāma, comprising approximately 22,500 verses that narrate a wide range of mythical and epic tales. They include vivid depictions of ʿAlī's victories over not only his enemies, but also serpents, demons, dragons, and talismans, showcasing his prowess and valour in historical and imaginary battles.¹⁶ The rise of ʿAlī as an epic figure during this era was closely intertwined with the flourishing of epic Persian literature, notably evidenced by the multitude of Shāh-nāma manuscripts crafted during the Mongol era. Such widespread popularity prompted Persian historian Ḥamd Allāh Mustawfī (d. circa 744/1344) to study several of these manuscripts meticulously and to produce a critical edition of the work.¹⁷ Notably, works inspired by Shāh-nāma, such as Aḥmad Tabrīzī's Shahanshāh-nāma (d. eighth/fourteenth century), Ḥakīm Zujājī's Humāyūn-nāma (d. seventh/thirteenth century), and Nūrī Azhdarī's Ghāzān-nāma (eighth/fourteenth century), emerged as examples of epic literature during this era.¹⁸

Akin to ʿAlī, Chinggis Khan emerged as an emblem of the archetypal warrior during this era. As Beatrice Forbes Manz has argued, Mongol chroniclers such as ʿAṭāʾ Malik Juwaynī (d. 681/1283) documented not only the victories of the Mongols, but also their devastating and destructive power, portraying them as the agents of divine wrath and compelling their audience to yield to their legendary strength.¹⁹ This tendency is notably pronounced in Juwaynī's narrative concerning Chinggis Khan, who allegedly introduced himself as the scourge of God sent to punish the people of Bukhāra for their grave sins. While it remains uncertain whether he actually uttered these words or they were attributed to him by later historians, the narrative significantly endows the Mongol Khan with an invincible epic triumph that surpassed all rivals.²⁰ Chinggisid legitimacy, which would soon undergo reconceptualisation in the Islamic context, was indeed construed as a universal and absolutist form of sacral kingship that did not have the restrictions imposed by the earlier Sunni and juridical conceptions of political authority.²¹

In this context, while ʿAlī was portrayed as the paramount figure of Islamic spirituality, his epic strength and valour also matched and rivalled those of Chinggis Khan, presenting the first Shiʿi imam as an appealing source of sacral power to a wide range of audiences. As will be discussed in this article, Rajab al-Bursī's narrative of ʿAlī not only delineates his esoteric wisdom, spiritual eminence, and cosmic significance, but also presents him as a formidable warrior of Islam whose power and might subjugated not just humans, but also jinn, angels, and even the fabric of time. Certainly, ʿAlī's allure was both mythic and mystical, as he was revered not only as the lion of God by his devotees, but also as the repository of divine and esoteric knowledge, embodying sacral power and love.

Chinggisid legitimacy and authority underwent a gradual decline, leading to Chinggis's transformation into a symbol of decline and brutality in the modern Islamic world. Hence, Chinggis and his Mongol successors are now widely regarded as mere symbols of terror and calamity in the Islamic world. In contrast, ʿAlī's powerful image reverberated throughout the Persianate world, reaching a renewed peak during the Shiʿi Safavid Dynasty, and it has been preserved up to the present day, with his influence continuing to galvanise, motivate, and inspire millions of people. However, while ʿAlī undeniably has been a potent symbol of both religious and political authority in the premodern and modern periods, our understanding of him beyond the early and formative periods of Islam remains incomplete.²² This article endeavours to shed light on this overlooked historical aspect by examining ʿAlī's portrayal in al-Ḥāfiẓ Rajab al-Bursī's (d. circa 814/1411) Mashāriq anwār al-yaqīn fī maʿrifa amīr al-muʾminīn. This literary piece garnered remarkable popularity during the Safavid reign, with more than 100 manuscript copies found in Iran alone.²³ It gained immense significance to the extent that Shah Sulaymān Ṣafavī (d. 1105/1694) assigned Ḥasan Khaṭīb Qārī Sabzawārī (fl. eleventh/seventeenth century) to translate and annotate it into Persian to make the text accessible to Persian readers, which aligned with the Safavid imperial agenda to bolster its Shiʿi ideological legitimacy.²⁴

While scholars have studied various aspects of this literary work, Mashāriq's core theme, namely the virtues of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, has not been the subject of a dedicated article.²⁵ The text serves as a case study offering insights into how Muslim intellectuals in the premodern and early modern Islamic world envisioned and depicted ʿAlī as a cosmic figure, fuelling the aspirations of Muslim emperors and intellectuals, and inspiring them to dream of ʿAlī's sacral power, love, and knowledge. In other words, the making of ʿAlī as a cosmic figure in the Islamic literature of this period was a building block in the rendering of his imperial image—a legacy that endures, still captivating the hearts and minds of many.²⁶

First, furnishing some context about Rajab al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār is in order. At its core, Mashāriq al-anwār serves as a collection of Hadith. Al-Bursī indeed identifies himself as Rajab al-muḥaddith, or a scholar of Hadith²⁷—a role that aligns perfectly with the overall framework of the book, which encompasses a diverse array of Hadith—many of which trace their origins back to early Shiʿi sources, such as al-Ṣaffār al-Qummī's (d. 290/903) Baṣāʾir al-darajāt,²⁸ Kitāb Sulaym ibn Qays of Sulaym ibn al-Qays al-Hilālī (d. circa 76/695),²⁹ and Ibn Bābawayh's (d. 381/991–992) works,³⁰ as well as later Hadith works such as Kitāb al-ghumma of ʿAlī ibn ʿỊsā al-Irbilī (d. seventh/thirteenth century)³¹ and Manāqib of Muwaffaq ibn Aḥmad Akhṭab Khwārazm (d. 568/1172).³² Al-Bursī, however, went beyond the role of a mere Hadith narrator, as he often provided commentary on the Hadith he cites, infusing them with Sufi and mystical concepts. In essence, al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār is a reflection of the intellectual developments in the premodern and early modern Islamic world, such as the lettrist tradition³³ and the works of Ibn al-ʿArabī (d. 638/1240).³⁴

Al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-awnār is an enigmatic book. It contains scant information about the author's personal life, mentors, and followers, or the historical and political events of his era. The historical accounts concerning the life of al-Bursī are so lacking that some scholars have questioned whether he actually existed.³⁵ Therefore, unlike some of his contemporaries, such as Ibn Turka Iṣfahanī (d. 835/1432) and Sharaf al-Dīn Yazdī (d. 858/1454), who had close connections to the court life and imperial developments of the early modern Islamic world, we find ourselves in a considerably less advantageous position when it comes to al-Bursī's intellectual and political affiliations. While we possess limited information about al-Bursī's own life, we have a much clearer picture of the posthumous impact of his Mashāriq al-anwār. Following a period of relative obscurity for Mashāriq al-anwār, we observe a resurgence of interest in it during the early modern period, particularly in the Safavid era. For example, Taqī al-Dīn Ibrāhīm ibn ʿAlī al-Kafʿamī (d. ninth/fifteenth century) cites our author in his Miṣbāḥ,³⁶ as well as Majmūʿ al-gharāʾib wa-mawḍūʿ al-raghāʾib.³⁷

While al-Bursī received criticism for his alleged extremism (ghuluww), particularly from figures such as Muḥammad Taqī Majlisī (d. 1110/1699)³⁸ and al-Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī (d. 1104/1693),³⁹ many other Safavid intellectuals approvingly incorporated materials from Mashāriq al-anwār. This can be observed in the works of Fakhr al-Dīn ibn Muḥammad ʿAlī Ṭurayḥī (d. circa 1085/1674),⁴⁰ Walī ibn Niʿmat Allāh Raḍawī Ḥāʾirī (d. circa tenth/sixteenth century),⁴¹ Sayyid Hāshim ibn Sulaymān Baḥrānī (d. twelfth/nineteenth century),⁴² Sayyid Niʿmat Allāh Jazāʾirī (d. 1112/1701),⁴³ and ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿĪsā Afandī (d. circa 1140/1727).⁴⁴ Safavid Shah Sulaymān Ṣafavī's decision to sponsor the translation and annotation of this text can be seen as an imperial embrace of its widespread acceptance. Therefore, Rajab al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār swiftly gained recognition as a prominent work in Shiʿi literature during the early modern era in the Persianate world.

ʿAlī as a fount of esoteric knowledge

Rajab al-Bursī bore witness to the era of flourishing Persianate culture, which reached its zenith during the Ilkhanid–Timurid era when numerous Sunni and Shiʿi intellectuals were extensively engrossed in occult sciences, particularly lettrism, astrology, and geomancy. Sunni intellectuals of al-Bursī's period, such as Ibn Turka Iṣfahanī, Sharaf al-Dīn Yazdī, and the New Brethren of Purity,⁴⁵ were deeply invested in occult sciences and esoteric knowledge not as mere clandestine incantations to be cast out by the witch-hunts of sociopolitical establishments, but rather as the very cornerstones upon which the grand edifice of imperial ambition was erected—an odyssey to conquer not just lands, but the very cosmos itself. The persona of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib took on a fresh and distinct significance in this era, intriguing both Shiʿi and Sunni intellectuals alike. He was not merely seen as a Sufi and mystical figure, but also as the wellspring from which all esoteric and occult knowledge originated.

The esoteric knowledge of ʿAlī takes centre stage in Mashāriq al-anwār. ʿAlī is portrayed as asserting that his knowledge surpasses the confines of Mount Qāf—a geographical symbol often cited as Earth's remotest point. He lays claim to comprehending the mysteries of all seven heavens and Earth itself, underlining his status as the Greatest Name of God (ism al-aʿẓam), the greatest divine sign (al-āya al-ʿuẓmā), and the most conspicuous miracle (al-muʿjiz al-bāhir).⁴⁶ He goes to the extent of asserting that, like Adam, God taught him His names⁴⁷ and that the Prophet communicated to him what would transpire after his passing, including foreknowledge of the succession crisis, details of the battles he would partake in, and what he would need to do during each of these incidents.⁴⁸ ʿAlī is even said to have had knowledge about the deceased, as illustrated by a story in which he advised his companion Kumayl ibn Ziyād to tread quietly in a cemetery, for the departed souls could sense his footsteps.⁴⁹

While al-Bursī, as an adept lettrist with a fascination for both theoretical and practical dimensions of Arabic letters, was an offshoot of the Shiʿi-Sunni continuum that was forged during the premodern and early modern occult revival of the Persianate world, he indeed reclaimed and reinstated ʿAlid occultism within the Twelver Shiʿi tradition.⁵⁰ ʿAlī is introduced as the ultimate source of lettrism or science of letters (ʿilm al-ḥurūf)—one of the most common forms of occult sciences in the Perso–Islamic world.⁵¹ Al-Bursī writes:

The expanded alif (alif al-mabsūṭ) is the letter bāʾ, which is the first thing that was revelated to the Prophet of God, and the first thing in the scripture of Adam, Noah, and Abraham.⁵² The expansion of alif upholds this letter, which is the secret of invention and lights, and all the secrets of truth pertain to the dot written beneath the letter bāʾ, which is alluded to in the saying of the commander of believers [ʿAlī], ‘I am the dot written beneath the expanded bāʾ’.⁵³

The secret of God is deposited in His books, and the secret of His books is deposited in the Qurʾan, as it is comprehensive and all-encompassing, wherein one can find elaboration for everything. The secret of the Qurʾan is also deposited in its disjointed letters (al-ḥurūf al-muqaṭṭaʿa) at the beginning of all suras, and the knowledge of these letters is in the letter lām in the letter alif, which is the same alif that contains all hidden and apparent secrets, and the knowledge of this lām is an alif within another alif, and its knowledge is in a dot that it contains, and the knowledge of the dot is in genuine knowledge. The secret of the Qurʾan is also in the sura Fātiḥa, and its secret is in its beginning, which is basmala. The secret of the basmala is in its bāʾ, and its secret is in its dot.⁵⁴

According to this account, ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib's esoteric knowledge finds its root in his distinctive dot-like essence, granting him access not only to the secrets of the Qurʾan, but also to those in all other divine books that have been disclosed to humanity across history.⁵⁵ Al-Bursī also depicts ʿAlī as the greatest word (al-kalima al-kubrā), encompassing all other words in the world. He is envisioned as emanating from the divine essence, much like all numbers originate from the number one.⁵⁶ The portrayal of ʿAlī as the repository of lettrist knowledge is further exemplified in a story in which Ibn al-ʿAbbās (d. 68/686) reportedly claimed that, during a single night, from dawn until dusk, ʿAlī explained the secrets of the basmala. However, he was only able to reach the second letter, sīn, before extinguishing the light at dawn, saying: ‘If I wanted, I could load forty camels with my commentary only on the bāʾ of basmala.’⁵⁷ It is also said that ʿAlī possessed knowledge of the magical-mathematical values of the Arabic letters, known as abjad numerals (ḥisāb al-jumal). According to al-Bursī, God granted this knowledge to Muhammad exclusively on the night of his ascension (laylat al-miʿrāj) and he bestowed it upon ʿAlī and his descendants, who are destined to hold this knowledge until the end of the world. This knowledge, as al-Bursī explains, ‘consists of eight words and twenty-eight letters, each containing the names of Muhammad and ʿAlī, both in hidden and apparent forms. Only those acquainted with the mysteries of letters and their corresponding numerical values can unveil them’.⁵⁸

In addition to lettrism, ʿAlī emerges as an alchemic authority par excellence in Mashāriq al-anwār. A story attributed to the housemaid of Fāṭima al-Zahrā (d. 11/632), Fiḍḍa al-Nūbiyya, who is alleged to be a princess of Indian descent, serves as a compelling example in this context. According to our source, Fiḍḍa was initially struck by the simplicity of ʿAlī's household and lifestyle upon joining Fāṭima's entourage. Perhaps due to her lineage as the daughter of an Indian king, Fiḍḍa had knowledge of alchemical processes. One day, she took a piece of copper and skilfully transformed it into the shape of a fish, subsequently transmuting it into gold. Upon ʿAlī's return home, she presented the gold to him, but he told her that, if she had first melted the copper before the transformation, then the resulting gold would have been even more precious. Impressed by the depth of the imam's knowledge, Fiḍḍa ventured to inquire whether he was also knowledgeable in alchemy. The imam, in a gesture towards his son Ḥasan, remarked that even his young child possessed such knowledge and his family was privy to even more profound insights. To illustrate his point, ʿAlī gestured towards the earth, at which moment a camel laden with gold materialised. He instructed Fiḍḍa to place her crafted gold alongside this wealth, which was then added to the concealed treasures of the earth.⁵⁹ In a parallel tale, ʿAlī entrusted a piece of stone to his disciple ʿAmmār al-Yāsir. He instructed his follower to recite the imam's name upon it, causing the stone to transmute into gold, thereby enabling ʿAmmār to settle his debts.⁶⁰

Al-Bursī also portrays ʿAlī's triumph in a battle of wits against astrologers. According to the narrative, as ʿAlī was en route to the Battle of Nahrawān, a Persian peasant who practised astrology cautioned him against joining the battle due to unfavourable astrological omens. Yet, ʿAlī persisted by posing inquiries that left the man unable to answer without consulting his astrolabe. Undeterred, the imam continued to challenge the astrologer's knowledge, such as inquiring whether the astrologer could pinpoint the precise location where the Chinese king had slept the preceding night, or identify the universe that had just perished, the moment when the Sāwa Sea had evaporated and the Khashrama Sea surged, the overthrow of the Roman king by his brother, the ascension of a new king to power in Rome, or even the simultaneous birth of 70,000 universes, each containing an additional 70,000 universes, all transpiring in a single night.⁶¹ Narratives like these, showcasing ʿAlī's unparalleled mastery of lettrism, alchemy, and astrology, strive to present him as the ultimate fount of all occult disciplines, surpassing rival practitioners on their very terrains.

It is crucial to note that, in al-Bursī's view, ʿAlī's mastery in all forms of knowledge is ultimately rooted in his connection with the heavenly preserved tablet (al-lawḥ al-maḥfūẓ), which is mentioned in the Qurʾan.⁶² Al-Bursī states that there is no concealed knowledge between God and the Prophet. This principle remains consistent for God and ʿAlī because ʿAlī, along with the Prophet, was the very first being created by God. This is why ‘whatever God unveiled from the world of the unseen (ghayb) and inscribed on the preserved tablet is inherently known to both the Prophet and the walī’.⁶³ According to al-Bursī, the creation of the preserved tablet would serve little purpose if its contents were inaccessible, yet it is also not open to the general public. Instead, awareness of its contents is reserved for those who belong to the prophetic lineage (āl Muḥammad).⁶⁴

Al-Bursī presents an innovative narrative to underscore that ʿAlī possessed direct access to the preserved tablet and his knowledge unquestionably emanated from this sacred source.⁶⁵ Our author posits that this relation can be understood in three distinct ways. First, tablets are repositories of inscribed words and lines; thus, in this sense, ʿAlī possessed knowledge of these written divine words. Second, al-Bursī explains that the Arabic term preserved (maḥfūẓ) adheres to the linguistic pattern of mafʿūl, which is a passive participle. However, ʿAlī stands as a clear imam (al-imām al-mubīn) and the Arabic term mubīn conforms to the linguistic pattern of faʿīl, which represents an active participle. Al-Bursī concludes that the latter is linguistically considered more dignified than the former, implying that ʿAlī surpassed even the preserved tablet.⁶⁶ Third, ʿAlī is the absolute walī, denoting that his guardianship encompassed everything (muḥīt bi-l-kull). Consequently, every entity, including even the preserved tablet, falls within the scope of his knowledge, and he possessed an awareness of the intricacies of those entities.⁶⁷

Al-Bursī acknowledges that these narratives may not resonate with those who question their authenticity and view them as exaggerations or historical fabrications. To establish the plausibility of these narratives, he leverages the prevailing interest in occult sciences during his own time. He describes an instance in which he observed an exoteric scholar (rajul min ahl al-fatwā) dismissing the notion that ʿAlī could possess knowledge of the unseen (ʿilm al-ghayb), as such knowledge can be attributed solely to God. Notably, this same individual, as our author recounts, turned to geomancers and astrologers to glean insights into his future affairs. Al-Bursī conveys his astonishment at the absurdity of accepting the teachings of magicians (ghawl al-kuhhān) while simultaneously dismissing the words of an infallible imam.⁶⁸ This highlights the widespread fascination with occult sciences in the premodern and early modern periods, extending beyond Sufis and occultists to even jurists, and providing fertile ground for al-Bursī's endeavour to portray ʿAlī as an unparalleled master of occult sciences and esoteric knowledge.

From the sword to the supernatural: ʿAlī's mythic and mystique feats

Tales of the extraordinary power of ʿAlī, portraying his abilities that transform him into a supernatural persona, are abundant in Mashāriq al-anwār. Comparable to his occult and esoteric qualities, this aspect of the text significantly contributes to the formation of an iconic image of ʿAlī—one radiating charismatic power and an alluring mystique, rendering him an enticing conduit to cosmic authority. For instance, ʿAlī is depicted as possessing the ability to communicate with jinn and even exerting control over them. In a story attributed to Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (d. 148/765), a notable episode unfolds during one of ʿAlī's sermons in Kufa. During this event, a serpent disrupted the assembly with its roars, but ʿAlī urged people to allow the creature to approach him. The serpent slowly advanced, kissed his foot, emitted three resounding roars, and then departed. ʿAlī told the crowd that the serpent was, in fact, a jinn whose offspring had been killed at the hands of an individual named Jābin ibn Sabīʿ, a member of the Helpers (anṣār), without any repercussions. ʿAlī interceded on behalf of Jābin, seeking forgiveness for his actions. At this point in the narrative, a man in the gathering confessed to being the person who had killed a viper in the vicinity of the assembly. He complained that the serpent's roars had plagued him for seven nights, which is why he had taken refuge in the mosque. ʿAlī finally advised him to return to the exact location at which he had encountered the viper and sacrifice a camel, as this act would dispel the disruptive presence of the jinn.⁶⁹

In another account, it is said that, when a jinn was present in the Prophet's company, the entry of ʿAlī onto the scene triggered a remarkable transformation in the jinn's demeanour, leading him to diminish in stature until he resembled a sparrow. The jinn beseeched the Prophet for protection, harking back to when he had attempted to submerge Noah's ark, endangering the lives of all aboard. However, it was ʿAlī who interceded with decisive force, delivering a single potent blow that severed the jinn's hand.⁷⁰ In one account, it is recounted that ʿAlī had the remarkable ability to spot a camel carrying a corpse, foreseeing its arrival in Najaf three days in advance and accurately predicting the precise moment at which his companions would also see it.⁷¹

Similarly, a number of other tales depict the sacral, mythic, and cosmic power of ʿAlī, which sets him apart from others. The following story about the battle of Khaybar sheds light on this aspect of ʿAlī's depiction in Mashāriq al-anwār. As the story goes, one day, Gabriel explained the wonders of ʿAlī's power to the Prophet:

When God commanded me to destroy the people of Lūṭ, I elevated their seven cities from the lowest seventh earth to the highest seventh earth using only a single feather from my wings. I kept them in that position, and I could even clearly hear the sound of their roosters and the laughter of their children, maintaining it until the divine decree arrived at dawn. However, when he [ʿAlī] delivered the powerful Hāshimī blow that day, God commanded me to hold back his sword, preventing the earth from splitting and sparing the cow that carries the world from a similar fate. Such an event would have plunged all of creation into chaos. Indeed, the force of ʿAlī's blow surpassed the challenge of lifting the seven cities of the people of Lūṭ, even with the assistance of angels Israfil and Michael in holding back his mighty hand.⁷²

ʿAlī is also introduced as having universal compassion for his followers. For instance, in one narrative, he conveyed to his follower Ramīla, who was suffering from illness, that when any Shiʿa falls ill, the imams share in their suffering; when Shiʿas experience sorrow, the imams share in their sorrow; and when they supplicate for anything, the imams also supplicate on their behalf, for the imams stand by their followers no matter where they may be in the world.⁷³ It is also mentioned that ʿAlī is believed to be present during a person's final moments in the world⁷⁴ and he possessed the ability to see the deceased: ‘O Aṣbagh! I can discern the souls of every believing man and woman beyond this barrier. If your vision were unveiled as mine, you would witness them enlightening people from luminous pulpits.’⁷⁵ Mashāriq al-anwār also presents narratives to demonstrate that ʿAlī's wonders go beyond the Muslim community, representing him as an icon of universal power and love. In one story, it is said that a certain monk assured ʿAlī's father Abū Ṭālib that he would become a father to a son who would become ‘the master of all people of his time (sayyid ahl zamānihi)’ and ‘the greatest nomos (nāmūs al-akbar)’.⁷⁶ ʿAlī is also depicted as having known the secrets of the scripture of Noah and Abraham, the Bible, and the Torah upon birth,⁷⁷ and in one instance deciphered the secrets of a church's bells for a monk.⁷⁸ Indeed, it is said that ʿAlī is mentioned in previous divine books. In a Hadith attributed to the Prophet, it is stated: ‘O ʿAlī! You and your followers have been mentioned in the Torah since before the inception of anything good, and the same holds true for the Bible, which extols your Shiʿas for our benefit.’⁷⁹ The sacral power and love associated with ʿAlī and other members of the prophetic family (ahl al-bayt) are believed to transcend not just other religious traditions, but also human boundaries, acquiring cosmic dimensions. The following Hadith are pertinent to this point:

It is narrated from Abū ʿAbd Allāh [al-Ṣādiq] that ‘God created a belt made of green beryl’. When asked, ‘What is this belt?’ he replied, ‘It is a veil (ḥijāb). God possesses seventy thousand worlds beyond this veil, far surpassing the number of jinn and humans. They all love us and condemn those who oppose us’.

It is also narrated by Jābir ibn ʿAbd Allāh, who heard from Abū Jaʿfar [al-Bāqir] that ‘there are forty suns beyond this sun, each separated by forty years. In these places, no one is even aware that God created Adam or Satan. However, God constantly reveals to them our love and animosity towards our enemies’.⁸⁰

These Hadith universalise love for the prophetic family by ascribing it to all inhabitants in the thousands of worlds across the cosmos. There are many such narratives in Mashāriq al-anwār, each shedding light on different aspects of ʿAlī's sacral and cosmic power across time and space. Al-Bursī's depiction of ʿAlī's sacral power and wondrous feats undeniably constituted a vital element in the widespread embrace of ʿAlī as a cosmic emblem. Through his sacral power and deeds, ʿAlī emerges as more than just a spiritual guide; he is also introduced as a symbol of cosmic significance.

ʿAlī is the Greatest Name of God

In Islamic tradition, the divine names, often referred to as the Most Beautiful Names of God (asmāʾ Allāh al-ḥusnāʾ), bear immense significance⁸¹ and this tradition finds its roots in the Qurʾan: ‘The Most Beautiful Names belong to God: use them to call on Him, and keep away from those who abuse them—they will be requited for what they do.’⁸² Various Muslim scholars have explained different facets of these names,⁸³ yet they gained renewed importance in premodern and early modern Islamic intellectual history, notably through the works of Ibn al-ʿArabī, in which divine names assume a central cosmological role.⁸⁴ Al-Bursī was certainly engaged in these intellectual currents. He wrote a work called Lumʿat al-kāshif, which, while non-extant, was about the practical utilisation of divine names and their potential influence in the daily practices of devout believers.⁸⁵ Al-Bursī's theory regarding divine names holds special significance in his evaluation of ʿAlī's status in Mashāriq al-anwār. He views prophets as manifestations (maẓāhir) of divine names, which ultimately can all be traced back to the divine name Allāh. He also maintains that all prophets and messengers can be traced back to seven figures: Adam, Idrīs, Abraham, Joseph, Moses, Aaron, and Jesus, whose final point of reference (marjaʿ) is none other than Muhammad.⁸⁶ Al-Bursī writes:

Adam is the manifestation (maẓhar) of the divine name the Speaker (nāṭiq), and he carries the full influence of the Creator (khāliq). Adam's dwelling is the heaven of the moon, which is the house of dignity. It is where the most comprehensive and good words find their home. Idrīs is the manifestation of the divine name the Alive (ḥayy), and his dwelling is the heaven of the sun, the wellspring of vitality for both animal and plant life. It is from this heaven that the secrets of minerals and vegetation emanate. Abraham is the manifestation of the divine name the Generous (jawād), and he carries the full influence of the Lord (rabb). Abraham's dwelling is the heaven of Saturn, which is the initial source of nourishment. Joseph is the manifestation of the divine name the Willing (murīd), he carries the influence of the Beautiful (jamīl), and his dwelling is the heaven of Venus. Moses is the manifestation of the divine name the Powerful (qādir), he carries the influence of the divine names the Potent (qawī) and the Intense (shadīd), and his dwelling is the heaven of Mars. Aaron is the manifestation of the divine name the All-Knowing (ʿalīm), he carries the influence of both the Commander (āmir) and the Rejector (nāhī), and his dwelling is in the heaven of Jupiter. Jesus is the manifestation of the divine name the Impartial (muqsiṭ), and he carries the influence of the Wise (ḥakīm). This is why he possessed the remarkable ability to heal the blind, cure lepers, and revive the deceased, and his dwelling is in the heaven of Mercury. Yet, all these heavens, names, and numbers ultimately converge in Muhammad, who is the manifestation of the comprehensive divine name, and his heaven is at a distance of two bow lengths or nearer.⁸⁷ He is the compendium of all secrets, the manifestation of all lights, and the comprehensive locus of all words.⁸⁸

The seven divine names that al-Bursī identifies as corresponding with the seven prophets are indeed the seven names that are commonly known as the leaders of all divine names (aʾimmat al-asmāʾ) in the Akbarian tradition, exerting control over the world and its affairs.⁸⁹ Amongst the divine names, he dedicates special attention to the Greatest Name of God (ism al-aʿẓam), which in Islamic spirituality and magic is traditionally perceived to be the most potent name of God.⁹⁰ This name also acquires a strong lettrist dimension in al-Bursī's works. For example, he explains that the letters comprising this divine name equate to a numerical value of 72. These letters further correspond to the number 264 and this sacred name can manifest itself in the letters themselves or their corresponding numerical values.⁹¹ It seems that alif-lām-mīm, one of the disjointed letters that commence various suras in the Qurʾan,⁹² bears a distinctive significance from al-Bursī's perspective. He asserts that its letters, both individually and collectively, encompass the Greatest Name of God.⁹³ This preference may stem from the numerical value of these letters, which is 71—the value closest to 72 when compared with other disjointed letters in the Qurʾan. Hence, it serves as the most suitable lettrist-numerical Qurʾanic device to encapsulate the Greatest Name of God. Rajab al-Bursī's interest in the number 72 may be rooted in early Shiʿi Hadith literature, specifically in narratives detailing the letters of the Greatest Name of God. For example, the following Hadith attributed to Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq is relevant in this context:

The Greatest Name of God comprises seventy-three letters, yet ʿĀṣaf possessed knowledge of just a letter from this divine name. When he pronounced it, the earth cleaved open from his location to the throne of the Queen of Sheba, allowing him to retrieve the throne with his hand, and the earth reverted to its original state, all transpiring in the blink of an eye. However, we hold knowledge of seventy-two letters of the Greatest Name of God, and a single letter has been reserved by God Himself, concealed within His own knowledge of the unseen (ʿilm al-ghayb).⁹⁴

Al-Bursī builds on such narratives by asserting that preceding prophets had access to merely two of these 72 letters. In contrast, Shiʿi imams possess the remaining 70 letters in addition to the initial two. This is the key to their ability to exert influence in the world and possess knowledge of the unseen.⁹⁵ The link between ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and the Greatest Name of God is particularly significant, as al-Bursī depicts the first Shiʿi imam not merely as a manifestation of a certain divine name, but as the Greatest Name of God:

How can it be otherwise? He is the Greatest Name, whose influence resonates throughout the universe—a sovereign capable of intervening in the affairs of all other beings. He stands as the First and the Last, the Apparent and the Hidden. He is the first among lights, and resides in the last cycle of creation, encompassing both the hidden secrets and the apparent impacts. As the supreme lord, he demands our following, serving as the conduit through which the divine word is spoken and the origin from which His affairs, both apparent and hidden, come to be.⁹⁶

ʿAlī, as the Greatest Name of God, rises above all previous prophets, ranking higher than nearly every prophet except the Prophet Muhammad, whose divine light mirrors that of ʿAlī. In the Akbarian tradition, walāya surpasses prophethood (nubuwwa), but prophets maintain a higher status than awliyāʾ, which contrasts with the classical Sufi perspective from which prophethood was considered superior to walāya.⁹⁷ This Akbarian narrative certainly influenced various later Shiʿi writers. A useful case in point is Sayyid Ḥaydar Āmulī (circa 787/1385), who arguably offered the first systematic response to Ibn al-ʿArabī's works in the Shiʿi tradition. Ḥaydar Āmulī was rather critical of certain ontological positions of Ibn al-ʿArabī,⁹⁸ but he generally remained loyal to this Akbarian framework of walāya. In short, he asserted that, while walāya is the highest spiritual rank in Islam, awliyāʾ are not necessarily higher in rank.⁹⁹

The idea of walāya in al-Bursī's work also needs to be understood as a corollary to the Akbarian model of thought that revolutionised walāya as not merely on a par with prophethood, but indeed surpassing it, elevating it to a status higher than prophethood itself. In other words, the placing of walāya as a central tenet of Shiʿism in al-Bursī's work is a natural offshoot of the Sunni-Shiʿi cosmopolis.¹⁰⁰ However, al-Bursī asserts that ʿAlī, as a walī and as the Greatest Name of God, occupies a position that is even superior to that of all preceding prophets, which further radicalises the Akbarian theory of walāya.¹⁰¹

ʿAlī as the arbiter for Heaven and Hell

According to Rajab al-Bursī, mere adherence to Islam does not assure entry into Heaven; instead, it is through ʿAlī ibn Ṭālib that this privilege is bestowed. That is why an extensive array of attributes is presented for ʿAlī in Mashāriq al-anwār, all strategically aimed at illustrating his authority to decide who gains entry into Heaven and who is destined for Hell. For example, he is introduced as the distinguisher between truth and falsehood (al-fārūq bayn al-ḥaqq wa-l-bāṭil)¹⁰² and as the firmest bond (ʿurwat al-wuthqā).¹⁰³ ʿAlī is likened to Noah's ark (safīnat al-Nūḥ), which can save whoever mounts it, and loving him is counted as one of the five pillars of Islam, alongside obligatory praying, almsgiving, fasting, and Hajj.¹⁰⁴ Likewise, ʿAlī is presented as a standard (ʿalam) between humanity and the Divine, whereby those who acknowledge it become believers and attain entry into Heaven, while those who disregard it turn into disbelievers and remain barred from Heaven's gates.¹⁰⁵ Redemption through following ʿAlī is said to have been established prior to the Creation, when God addressed all beings with ‘Am I not your Lord? and they replied, “Yes”’.¹⁰⁶ Drawing on a prophetic Hadith, al-Bursī explains that God then queried the assembly regarding the prophethood of Muhammad, which garnered widespread agreement. In contrast, the imamate of ʿAlī encountered denial from those except a select few who were referred to as ‘the people of the right hand (aṣḥāb al-yamīn)’, constituting a ‘minority within a minority (aqall al-aqall)’.¹⁰⁷ ʿAlī is also introduced as the distributor (qassām) of one's placement in Heaven and Hell:

This is confirmed by what Abū Ḥamza al-Thumālī narrated in the book of al-Amālī from Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad, who stated that the Prophet had said, ‘When the resurrection occurs, God will grant you, ʿAlī, a radiant calf and a glowing crown. The crown will have four ornaments, each proclaiming the oneness of God, Muhammad as His Prophet, and ʿAlī as His chosen guardian. At that moment, the throne of honor will be readied for you, and the keys to both heaven and hell will be entrusted to your care. Subsequently, people from all ages, from the earliest to the last, will gather in a single location. Your devoted followers (shīʿa) will find entry into heaven, while your adversaries will be consigned to hell. This is because you hold the authority to apportion heaven and hell and will serve as God's trustee on that day.¹⁰⁸

ʿAlī is thus prophesied to receive a radiant calf and a crown, symbolising his authority over the keys to Heaven and Hell. The concept of walāya also holds a pivotal significance in al-Bursī's examination of the redeemed and the perished, and he frequently employs it interchangeably with the notion of maḥabba (love). The following narrative sheds light on his view of walāya and its relevance to the redeemed and the perished:

A sacred hadith states that, ‘The walāya of ʿAlī is my fortress; whoever enters it shall find refuge from my hell’. Therefore, protection from hell is solely dependent on embodying ʿAlī's walāya, as recognizing it requires affirming prophethood and monotheism… Those who embody walāya for ʿAlī are the safeguarded believers, while those who do not belong to this category are perishing hypocrites, and this status remains unalterable’.¹⁰⁹

In essence, the tally of good deeds remains incomplete without love for ʿAlī. That is why al-Bursī narrates numerous Hadith to the effect that, no matter how pious and righteous one becomes, they will never be able to enter Heaven so long as they do not embody walāya for ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, since he is the scale (mīzān) according to which the righteous will enter Heaven and the wicked will enter Hell:

The Glorious God states, ‘We will set up scales of justice for the Day of Resurrection’.¹¹⁰ Ibn al-ʿAbbās stated: The scales refer to the prophets and awliyāʾ. For any scale to function, it requires two pans, a fulcrum, and witnesses. Thus, the first pan reads ‘there is no god but God’, the fulcrum bears the inscription ‘Muhammad is His Prophet’, and the second pan reads ‘ʿAlī is his walī’ pan. The following verse alludes to this matter: ‘He has raised up the sky. He has set the scale’.¹¹¹ A scholar further elucidates this verse, equating the sky to the Prophet of God and the scale to ʿAlī. People's actions are measured based on the degree of their love for him. His speech: ‘Weigh with justice and do not fall short in the scale’,¹¹² means that you should not wrong ʿAlī as there is no scale to measure the deeds of those who are ignorant about his rights.

About His speech, ‘It is God who has sent down the scripture with truth and the scale’.¹¹³ It is narrated that the scripture is the Qurʾan and the scale is walāya. ʿAlī ibn Ibrāhīm [al-Qummī] stated that the scripture is ʿAlī and the scale is also ʿAlī. The absence of walāya for ʿAlī results in an incomplete religious commitment, and certainty remains beyond reach for such individuals. That is because walāya is the scale for the servants in the hereafter.¹¹⁴

In this spirit, not only is love for ʿAlī required for the good deeds to be counted in the hereafter, but it also indeed transforms the nature of one's actions. Al-Bursī similarly states that there are three groups of people in the hereafter: believers (muʾmin), infidels (kāfir), and hypocrites (munāfiq). There is no scale for the last two groups, so their good deeds cannot be counted, and it is as if they have no good deeds on their record. However, believers have a different story and, due to their love for ʿAlī, their bad deeds are transformed into good deeds, hence granting them warranted access to Heaven.¹¹⁵ Thus, while one can become Muslim, in order to become a believer (muʾmin), and hence redeemed, one should embody love for ʿAlī.¹¹⁶ This love can save his followers from the dreads of the hereafter:

Ibn al-ʿAbbās reports the following from the Messenger of God: ‘There will be overwhelming fear on the Day of Resurrection. Those who wish to escape its fears and distress should embrace the love for my walī, legatee (waṣī), caliph, and companion of my bounteous pool, ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib. He turns away those who oppose him from this pool and pours from it for his awliyāʾ. Those who do not drink from it shall endure eternal thirst, while those who drink will be forever satiated. The love for ʿAlī serves as a distinguishing mark between belief and hypocrisy. Those who embody love for him possess belief, whereas those who oppose him are hypocrites. ʿAlī's lovers stride the Straight Path with swiftness akin to a flash of lightning, thus gaining entry to heaven without undergoing any reckoning.’¹¹⁷

This Hadith conveys that embracing love for ʿAlī is the key to alleviating fears on the Day of Resurrection and ensuring swift entry into Heaven without undergoing any reckoning. By offering a diverse collection of Hadith and interpretations of Qurʾanic verses, al-Bursī illuminates a crucial element of his Imamology, which revolves around the cultivation and nurturing of walāya for ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib as the ultimate and definitive arbiter of one's destiny between Heaven and Hell. This profound love and devotion, especially directed towards ʿAlī, serve as the decisive criteria distinguishing those who find redemption in Heaven from those consigned to damnation in Hell. Premodern and early modern Persianate Sunnism was, in fact, centred on ʿAlidism or Sunni Ahl Baytism as its Shiʿi counterparts and, in numerous instances, it was virtually indistinguishable from Shiʿi devotional practices.¹¹⁸ This can explain why, while al-Bursī's narrative about enemies of ʿAlī is harsh and unapologetic, it is not transformed into an anti-Sunni polemic. In other words, al-Bursī's attack on ʿAlī's enemies should not be seen as an anti-Sunni polemic, but rather as a devotional veneration of ʿAlī beyond sectarian divisions.

Almost divine: ʿAlī vs. God

Al-Bursī has been commonly accused of propagating ideas about Shiʿi imams that eliminate the border between the Shiʿi imams and God, hence falling into the trap of extremism (ghuluww).¹¹⁹ However, al-Bursī did not think of his ideas as having anything in common with those of extremists and he engaged in extensive criticism of extremist ideas across Mashāriq al-anwār.¹²⁰ ʿAlī indeed possesses qualities and attributes in Mashāriq al-anwār that approach the divine, but they are not divine. Al-Bursī's examination of light traditions, aimed at explaining the unique cosmic status of ʿAlī and the Prophet, holds relevance in this context.¹²¹ In various instances, al-Bursī recounts Hadith that elevate ʿAlī from a mere human status to a cosmic figure shaped and moulded by divine light. This concept is demonstrated in the following prophetic traditions:

The first thing God created was my light. From it, he extracted the light of ʿAlī, and, instead of descending, we traveled in light until God brought us to the veil of greatness after eighty thousand years. He then formed all people from our light, making us His creations (ṣanāyiʿ Allāh), and others are created after us and for our sake.¹²²

Muḥammad ibn Sinān narrated from Ibn al-ʿAbbās that, ‘We were in the company of the Messenger of God, peace be upon him, when ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib arrived. The Prophet then greeted him, saying, “Greeting to he who had been created forty thousand years before his father, Adam.” We asked, “O Prophet, so the son existed before his father?” He replied, “Yes, God created ʿAlī and me from the same light (nūr wāḥid) before the creation of Adam in the aforementioned time. Then, He split it in half, and created all things from my light and ʿAlī's light. He then placed us on the right side of the throne. He praised us, the angels also praised us, He glorified us, the angels glorified us, He extolled us, the angels also extolled us. That is why everyone who praises and extols God has learned it from ʿAlī's and my teachings”'.¹²³

This passage showcases ʿAlī's transformation from a mere human into a cosmic figure shaped by divine light, predating the creation of Adam. It also emphasises the transcendent nature of ʿAlī, positioning him alongside the Prophet in the cosmic order. Even the marriage of ʿAlī with Fāṭima is described as a marriage of light with light (al-nūr bi-l-nūr).¹²⁴ It is also recounted that there exist two lights for ʿAlī—one upon Earth and another in the heavens—with the purpose of ensuring the redemption of all creation.¹²⁵ Indeed, al-Bursī states that ʿAlī is a divine light (nūr ilāhī) whose belonging to the body is accidental (ʿāriḍī), as he is primarily a light that illuminates the Occident and the Orient.¹²⁶ However, none of these traditions is meant to deliver ʿAlī's divinity. The equilibrium between the cosmic elevation of ʿAlī and his separation from God is evident in al-Bursī's commentary on the following Qurʾanic verse: ‘God is the light of the heavens and earth.’¹²⁷ According to him, the term ‘God’ (Allāh) represents the divine essence in this verse, while the subsequent word ‘light’ (nūr), which emanates from this essence, refers to the Muhammadan realm (al-ḥaḍra al-Muḥammadiyya) and signifies the light of Muhammad and ʿAlī: ‘They are the veils for the divine realm, and they are its deputies, and gates, and the treasurers of the secret of lordship.’¹²⁸ The light of God, as described here, is clearly separate from God's essence, which is exclusively God's and the wellspring from which the light of ʿAlī and Muhammad emanates.

ʿAlī represents the eternal divine light that has endured across the annals of history, yet he is not divinity itself; instead, he serves as the intermediary veil that distinguishes God from all else. Al-Bursī indeed often clarifies that Shiʿi imams are servants of God and, although God's attributes and actions can be ascribed to them, God's essence is the exclusive domain of God and cannot be attributed to anyone else but Him.¹²⁹ Numerous Hadith in al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār, including the sermon of Glory (iftikhār) or Two Gulfs (taṭanjayn), which some interpreted as having elements of extremism (ghuluww), indeed need to be understood within this framework.¹³⁰ These sermons or Hadith frequently adhere to a consistent structure that shall be characterised as ‘a pronoun-centric style’ in which ʿAlī often employs the I/we narrative format to assert an array of mythic, cosmic, and godlike attributes that distinguish him from humanity. A typical example of these pronoun-centric Hadith is from a conversation between ʿAlī and two of his followers, Jundab al-Azdī and Salmān al-Fārsī, in which we read:

On this matter what Salmān and Abū Dhar narrated from the commander of believers is relevant. He stated, ‘The burden of the misdeeds of those whose outward actions (ẓāhir) manifest my walāya more than their inner qualities (bāṭin) is lighter. O Salmān! The faith of believers remains incomplete until they comprehend my luminous nature. Once they recognise me in this manner, they truly become believers. God tests their hearts with faith, expands their chests to embrace Islam, and endows them with profound knowledge of His religion. Those who falter are sceptics and heretics. O Salmān and Jundab! Knowing my luminous nature is akin to knowing God, and knowing Him is akin to knowing me. It represents the essence of pure religion, as the Glorious God also affirms: “Though all they are ordered to do is worship God alone, sincerely devoting their religion to Him.” This signifies sincerity (ikhlāṣ). His statement: “People of true faith” acknowledges the prophethood of Muhammad and true faith (al-dīn al-ḥanīf). His utterance “keep up the prayer” also affirms my walāya. Those who embody walāya for me are as if they have kept the practice of praying in the world, the most challenging of endeavors. “And pay the prescribed alm” is the acknowledgment of imams, and “for that is the veracious religion” signifies that it is the veracious religion of God.¹³¹ The Qurʾan attests that the veracious religion is monotheism through sincerity and acknowledging prophethood and walāya. Those who possess these qualities embody the true essence of religion.¹³²

O Salmān and Jundab! Muhammad was the speaker, and I am the silent one, for in every era there must be both a silent and a speaking one. Muhammad is the possessor of all, while I am the possessor of the assembly. Muhammad serves as the warner, and I am the guide. He is the possessor of heaven, and I am the possessor of the return. Muhammad is the possessor of the pond, while I am the possessor of the standard. He holds the keys [to the unseen], and I am the possessor of both heaven and hell. Muhammad is the possessor of revelation, and I am the possessor of inspiration. He is the possessor of reasons, whereas I am the possessor of miracles. Muhammad is the seal of prophets, and I am the seal of legatees. He is the possessor of the calling, and I am the possessor of the sword and might. Muhammad is a noble Prophet, while I am the Straight Path. He is a gentle and compassionate person, and I am the most exalted and the most supreme (al-ʿalī al-ʿaẓīm).

O Salman! The Almighty God stated, “He sends the spirit with His teachings to whichever of His servants He will”.¹³³ This spirit is not bestowed upon anyone except those to whom command and measure are granted. I breathe life into the lifeless, I possess knowledge of all that resides in the heavens and the earth, I am the clear book. O Salmān! Muhammad established the proof, but I stand as the proof of God (ḥujjat al-ḥaqq) over all creation. Through me, the spirit ascends to the heavens. I carried Noah in his ark, I am the possessor of Yonah in the belly of the whale, I guided Moses through the parted sea, annihilated ancient civilisations, and bestowed knowledge upon prophets and legatees. I am the concluding remark, and with me, the prophethood of Muhammad reached its culmination. I made creeks and seas flow, caused springs to gush forth from the earth, and turned away the world's distractions. I am the punishment on the day of darkness, Khiḍr the teacher of Moses, the teacher of David and Solomon, I am the possessor of two horns. I am the one who dispels its danger with the aid of the Almighty and Majestic God, and I conquered its vast lands, I am the punishment on the day of darkness. I beckon all from distant realms, I am the beast of the earth, just as the Prophet proclaimed, “O ʿAlī! You possess two horns, [which refers to the world] and you hold dominion over both corners of the world as well as the hereafter”. O Salmān! Our departed remain eternally alive even after their passing, our murdered are never truly extinguished, our absent are never truly absent, we are not born from maternal wombs, and none can be likened to us! I spoke through the tongue of Jesus while he was yet in his cradle. I am Noah, I am Abraham, I am the possessor of the female camel (nāqa), I am the possessor of tremors and earthquakes. I am the preserved tablet from which all knowledge is derived; I can assume any form as God wills. Whoever beholds these indeed beholds me, and whoever perceives me, indeed perceives them. In reality, we are the eternal, unchanging light of God'.¹³⁴

This Hadith is known as ‘knowing the luminous nature of imam (maʿrifat al-imām bi-l-nūrāniyya)’ and it exemplifies the concept of inner knowledge (maʿrifa) concerning ʿAlī. It demonstrates that this knowledge not only forms the basis of faith or īmān, but also crucially distinguishes Islam from disbelief, asserting walāya for ʿAlī as equivalent to monotheism.¹³⁵ While al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-awnār stands as one of the earliest sources containing this Hadith, it exerted its influence later in the Safavid and Qajar eras. Shaykh Aḥmad Aḥsāʾī (d. 1241/1826), Muḥammad Bāqir Majlisī (d. 1111/1699–1700), Muḥsin Fayḍ Kāshānī (d. 1090/1679), Qāḍī Saʿīd Qummī (d. circa 1107/1696), Quṭb al-Dīn Nayrīzī (d. 1173/1795), and Mullā Hādī Sabzawārī (d. 1289/1873) have incorporated this Hadith into their works, contributing to its prominence in the early modern and modern eras.¹³⁶

One encounters plentiful instances of such pronoun-centric Hadith and sermons across Mashāriq al-anwār and they communicate the same basic message despite being of different lengths. These texts, resplendent with entrancing literary eloquence, serve as the manifestos of ʿAlī's sanctified authority and sacral power. ʿAlī emerges as a triumphant figure in them, vanquishing his adversaries and transcending the boundaries of mortality. He assumes the mantle of a universal sovereign, reigning not only over earthly realms from east to west, but also over the vast expanse of the cosmos and the very fabric of time. His dominion, universal and everlasting, extends across all lands, both imaginary and real, and all times, past and future; at times, his dominion is marked by awe-inspiring dread yet, at others, it is imbued with boundless mercy and compassion. ʿAlī's knowledge of both the past and the future stands as unquestionable and he is presented as the exclusive means to humanity's salvation and redemption. The aesthetic allure of these passages, along with the artful repetition of pronouns, serve as potent instruments for articulating ʿAlī's sacral authority. He is positioned not as a deity, but as the sacred isthmus between God and time/space—the ultimate source of authority that unites the above and below and the past and future.

Concluding remarks

As Azfar Moin has demonstrated, ʿAlī's resurgence during the early modern period was, on the one hand, influenced by the Sunni Sufi tradition, which revered him as a mystical and cosmic figure. On the other hand, his renewed prominence also stemmed from the accounts in epic narratives, such as those in ʿAlī-nāma (Book of ʿAlī), Khāwar-nāma (Book of Khāwar), and Kitāb Jāmāsp (Book of Jāmāsp), which depict him as the preeminent warrior of Islam.¹³⁷ Rajab al-Bursī's portrayal of ʿAlī was certainly a significant component within this larger context of the emergence of ʿAlī as a pivotal figure during this period, resonating with both Shiʿas and Sunnis alike. As noted, al-Bursī's Mashāriq al-anwār includes numerous Hadith depicting ʿAlī not only as an esoteric, mystical, and cosmic figure, but also as profoundly mythical and epic. These narratives collectively portray him as the foundation of esoteric knowledge, as the arbiter of Heaven and Hell, and, though not divine, as the supreme name of God, showcasing mythic and mystic characteristics. In essence, the Hadith in Mashāriq al-anwār do not contain the typical legal, ethical, or social matters commonly seen in many Hadith works. Instead, Mashāriq al-anwār narrates devotional, esoteric, and epic stories about ʿAlī that can explain the widespread reception and adoption of this work in the Shiʿi world.¹³⁸

Al-Bursī's depiction of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, with its esoteric, mystical, and mythical aspects, has been discarded and branded as ‘superstitious’, ‘gullible’, and ‘extreme’,¹³⁹ serving as a symbol of decay and intellectual delusion that marred post-Golden Age Islamic intellectual history, in which the philosophy and rational thinking of luminaries such as al-Fārābī (d. 339/950) and Ibn Sīnā (d. 428/1037) were supplanted by the bewildering ‘irrationalities’ of Sufis, occultists, and ‘pseudo-scientists’.¹⁴⁰ However, it is imperative to note the intricate historical context in which al-Bursī's portrayal of ʿAlī and his sacral power emerged. It was an era in which rulers, empires, and intellectuals tirelessly sought the acquisition of sacral power, not as mere intellectual amusement or frivolous musings on absurdities, but as pragmatic instruments to construct empires vying for universal dominion.¹⁴¹ Al-Bursī's portrayal of ʿAlī was thus not an extreme and isolated work, but it did indeed mark a pivotal moment in the Sunni-Shiʿi continuum, effectively disseminating ʿAlī's sacral power and love to a broad spectrum of readers.