An Evening with the Dervishes

Liz Maziarz

February 19, 2004

There is a three-story building at 265 West Broadway painted white and green. It sits next to the Tribeca Bar and across the street from a large parking lot. At 7:30 on this Thursday night this downtown neighborhood, home to offices and courts, is virtually empty of foot traffic. The building is the Masjid al-Farah, headquarters of the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order. The order traces its spiritual lineage to 17th century Istanbul through "eleven mystic shaykhs," according to its Web site, all the way back to the founder Hazreti Pir Muhammad Nureddin Jerrahi.

Inside the building the air is smoky. The people cooking in the second floor kitchen burned some lamb, and as a result the first floor prayer room is hazy. The room is long and narrow with a high ceiling. The walls are painted white brick, and large Persian carpets cover the floor. The room is cold; no one has turned on the heat yet. Fifteen or so people are scattered around the room. They talk with each other or sit silently.

Aleesia, a dark haired woman who looks to be in her late 40's, sits on the carpet against one white brick wall. "I have not been here in a long time," she says, "I came tonight to reconnect with the energies of the group, and to see the Shaykha." The Shaykh or Shaykha of any given Sufi order is considered the teacher and the guide. People are often drawn to a particular group, Aleesia says, "because they resonate with the energy and the wisdom of a particular leader."

Sufism, Aleesia explains, is rooted in Islamic tradition, though individual Sufis may not consider themselves Muslim. They are more likely, she says, to describe themselves as mystics, lovers, or dervishes. Aleesia became a Sufi in the early 1980's after attending a performance of Sufi music at St. John the Divine. Her main practice is silent meditation. Aleesia rarely feels the need to worship with others, but when she does she comes to the Masjid al-Farah.

A man announces that the Shaykha is running late, and the group will begin the Wird without her. The Wird is a group of chanted prayers that differs in each Sufi order. The people in the room assemble into a circle and begin chanting the names of God and passages from the Qur'an.

As the group finishes the Wird prayers, Shaykha Fariha al-Jerrahi enters the circle. She is a tall, lanky woman with flashing eyes dressed in flowing robes of white and purple. Shaykh Muzaffer, the head of the Order in Istanbul, crowned her Shaykha in 1980.

The Shaykha greets several people in the circle by name. She welcomes guests and newcomers. She asks for tea and food. Silver platters of grapes, bananas and dates pass from hand to hand around the circle. Shaykha Fariha talks for about 30 minutes, and her talk is more loose monologue than sermon. The main point of her talk is that all devotional paths are "wells that lead to the same spring." She exhorts the gathering to follow the path of love, and then she declares that it is time for the Zikr to begin.

The Zikr occurs weekly at the Masjid. It is the main ceremony where Sufis come together and worship. The Zikr is a remembrance of God, and the main practice is to recite the names of God. This can be done silently or ecstatically. Some members of the order are there every Thursday, but many follow their own path, coming only occasionally to share the energy of the group. A woman named Tada drove an hour and a half from her Long Island home to attend tonight's Zikr.

The Zikr begins slowly and prayerfully. Thirty or so people sit on sheepskins arranged in a circle. Men and women sit together. A wide variety of ages and races are represented. A man dims the lights and places a silver incense burner sits in the middle of the circle. Shaykha Fariha welcomes several more people. A man named Conrad, who is wearing a suit, says that he is attending for the first time in almost twenty years. The group welcomes him. A contractor from Brooklyn says that he is renovating some houses upstate that will be used as sacred spaces for retreat. Accompanying him is a friend, a Jew from West Africa, who is attending his first Zikr.

Shaykha Fariha leads the group in a chant for about forty-five minutes. Then people stand and several members clear the sheepskins off the floor. Musicians gather their instruments, singers their songbooks. A circle forms around them, people join hands, and the circle closes. A man named Jamal plays the Oud, a kind of Turkish lute. Two men play drums.

The circle moves with the beat, stepping slowly to the left. Shaykha Fariha moves away from the singers, around the circle, guiding the chant, signaling new words like Hu, Allah, and other names of God. The circle moves, rhythm unbroken. Hands unclasp, move to shoulders, and the circle moves. Voices grow loud, rise up from deep in the heart. The circle moves steadily for at least an hour, as the energy grows more intense.

The circle breaks but the music continues. Shaykha Fariha spins, moving around the room. Several people spin, caught in the momentum. Others stand against the wall, slowly swaying to the beat of the drums. Still others, including Aleesia, sit silently on the floor. Time passes, half an hour perhaps. The music stops. The circle comes together again. The Shaykha blesses the circle and the world.

It is midnight when the final prayers of the Zikr finish and the participants disperse. Some stay for a communal meal, but most head out into the night.

(Updated April 19, 2004)