Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Thérèse-Anne Druart
1
Joel L. Kraemer, Philosophy in the Renaissance of Islam: Abū Sulaymān al-Sijistānī and His
Circle and Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam: The Cultural Revival During the Buyid Age.
(Leiden, 1986). See also, Thérèse-Anne Druart, “Philosophy in Islam,” in The Cambridge
Companion to Medieval Philosophy, ed. A. S. McGrade (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 97–120.
2
The Holy Qur ān: Arabic Text with English Translation and Commentary by Maulana
Muhammad Ali, new ed. (Ohio, 2002). In fact the Qur ān in the early chapters presents
a fairly positive view of monks, but later chapters are more negative.
3
Cf. Sidney H. Griffith in his introduction to Yahyā ibn Adī, The Reformation of
Morals: A parallel Arabic-English Edition, Translation, and Introduction, Eastern Christian
Texts, 1 (Provo, 2002), pp. xiii–xxviii.
4
This work can be found in Arabic and a French translation as Traité sur la continence
de Yahyā ib Adī, ed. Vincent Mistrih, O.F.M., Studia Orientalia Christiana, Collectanea,
16 (Cairo, 1981). The text is divided into paragraphs with continuous numbering, to
which I refer. The edition is based on two versions of the text; the complete version
is found solely in Ms. 370 of the Copt Orthodox Patriarchate in Cairo, and the
abbreviated version in two Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica Ms Vat. Ar. (Mss) 134 and
115. “Continence” is not a good translation of the title. In his The Works of Yahyā
ibn Adī: An Analytical Inventory (Wiesbaden, 1977), Gerhard Endress describes it as “A
discussion of arguments for and against celibacy,” p. 120. Griffith, in his translation
of The Reformation of Morals, speaks of “the so-called Treatise on Continence” (p. xliv).
I have chosen to render it more literally as the Giving Up of Having Offspring. Griffith is
preparing a translation cum edition for the Eastern Christian Texts Series, cf. “Yahyā
b. Adī’s Colloquy On Sexual Abstinence and the Philosophical Life,” in Arabic Theology, Arabic
Philosophy. From the Many to the One: Essays in Celebration of Richard M. Frank, ed. James E.
Montgomery, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta (Leuven, 2006/7), pp. 299–333.
having offspring they thereby oppose God, become his enemies, and
are odious to Him. Yahyā refutes these arguments, showing that they
are bad syllogisms, based on a false or partially false premise. He then
presents his own arguments in favor of the Christian position. There
follows a letter supposedly written by one of Yahyā’s close Muslim
friends, to a third mutual friend. Its author claims that in this treatise
Yahyā misunderstood some of his views, a claim to which Yahyā replies,
by refuting his arguments, before concluding his own letter with three
questions. The friend answers them in a letter dated Monday, tenth
night of Muharram of the year H353, i.e., 964, only to be refuted
again by Yahyā who, not surprisingly, has the last word.
It is unlikely that this collection of texts constitutes a real correspon-
dence. Quite often, Arabic philosophical treatises are presented in this
manner, as a letter in response to a friend’s question, the apparent
“correspondence” being a rhetorical ploy aimed at making the text
more lively and attractive to its audience. Let us leave this question
aside, however, in order to focus on the arguments.
Though the work openly defends a Christian conception against criti-
cisms from Muslims and contains numerous brief prayers for Yahyā’s
friends, its argumentation is almost exclusively philosophical and its
theological or religious passages likewise manifest heavy philosophical
leanings.
From the outset, Yahyā claims that the four arguments depicting
the renunciation of offspring as an abomination all rest on a flawed
basic premise. They assume that this renunciation is the ultimate end
of Christianity; they view it as a universal requirement, whereas it is
only one of the means to attain Christianity’s true aim. Our author
presents this true aim in philosophic language: it is happiness, described
as focusing on the acquisition of true sciences and divine wisdom.
The expression “divine wisdom” may mean knowledge of God, in a
religious sense, or metaphysics, or both. In fact, Yahyā seems to blend
both meanings and to deliberately shift from one to the other.
Interestingly, we must wait until the final exchange before we find
any allusion to Muhammad and his companions or to Christ and his
apostles. But even here, philosophical analysis remains in the forefront.
For instance, Yahyā’s dear but anonymous Muslim friend asks that we
imagine two young men of good and balanced character, keen intel-
ligence, and excellent health. If, he argues, one of these young men
were to remain celibate and solitary, locked in the pursuit of knowledge,
he would lead an impossible life and, therefore, in fact regress, while
the other, despite the practical needs to care for his wife and children,
would thrive (nn. 91–93). Yahyā’s Muslim friend presents several histori-
cal examples in support of this claim, beginning with philosophers and
ending with prophets. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, he notes, the three
greatest philosophers, each lived in cities, had friends and disciples, and
died leaving an estate, wives, children, and slaves. The prophets did so,
as well. Even Christ—though he was an exception in a sense, which
remains unstated, because of a bad patch in the manuscript—lived for
the most part with his disciples. He did not order them to give up their
house, wives, and children; nor did he prevent them from marrying.
The friend makes the same argument for just kings, such as Alexan-
der the Great, as well as for Muhammad and his companions, who
also died living estates, wives, and children. These latter two examples
also served as governors of a nation subject to human or divine laws,
within which philosophic ends and activities were allowed to flourish
(nn. 94–97). We should take note here of Muhammad’s inclusion in a
treatment of just kings.
Especially striking in Yahyā’s reply to the foregoing is the pride of
place he gives to philosophers over the prophets and even Christ. Fol-
lowing a long-standing tradition confusing Socrates and Diogenes,5 he
denies that Socrates led an ordinary life, claiming instead that he lived
in solitude in a cistern. Yahyā casts the fact of Socrates’ marriage in
utilitarian terms; it was merely a means for Socrates to restrain his
temper through regular exercises in toleration of his wife’s crustiness
(nn. 125–26). Similarly, Yahyā argues, the other philosophers and just
kings who married and produced offspring did so for one of the six
valid reasons, each of which fosters closeness to God and thereby shows
that procreation may be virtuous in some circumstances. Stated suc-
cinctly, he lists these reasons as follows. One may, in procreating, aim at
the birth of 1. a prophet; 2. a just king; 3. a pious priest; 4. a learned
scholar; or 5. one may procreate as cure for diseases stemming from
lack of sexual activity, or finally 6. as prevention of those same diseases
which, if contracted, would inhibit true scholarship (n. 59). According
5
The philosopher-physician al-Rāzī (ca. 864–925 or 932, the Latin Alrazes) deals
with this same tradition in his Philosophic Life, in which Socrates has been said to
have lived in a jar in the desert: Arabic in Abi Bakr Mohammadi Filii Zachariae Raghensis
(Razis), Opera Philosophica Fragmentaque Quae Supersunt, ed. Paul Kraus (Cairo, 1939), p. 99;
English translation in “The Book of the Philosophic Life,” by al-Rāzī, trans. Charles
E. Butterworth, Interpretation, (20/3) (1993), 227.
the Christian life leads to the highest scholarship rather than to union
with God or holiness. This conception of happiness allows him to
argue that renouncing procreation is an excellent means for such an
aim, but that this means is not suited for all. There are those who find
this renunciation fairly easy and enjoy the freedom it offers them to
consecrate more time to scholarship. These need simply to take proper
care of their health (n. 104), through a simple and sound diet (n. 120).
In such a case, the celibate life offers fewer distractions. But for some
people complete sexual abstinence would lead to illness, which in turn
would adversely affect their life of scholarship. Thus, he argues, should
the celibate life represent more of a hindrance than a help to scholarly
life, it would be better to marry. Celibacy, in short, is not the best path
for every Christian. Marriage and procreation are seen as virtues when
offspring are desired for one of Yahyā’s six reasons listed earlier, i.e.,
aiming at the procreation of prophets, just kings, pious priests, and
excellent scholars, or at the cure or prevention of diseases caused by
a lack of a sex life.
The potential for marriage to impinge the scholarly life is an old
and pervasive theme in philosophy. Abelard presents the same kind of
arguments, for instance, in his Historia Calamitatum, when he describes
Heloise’s efforts to convince him not to marry her. Let us recall here
that Yahyā himself was married; he had at least one son, and was a
busy and respected scholar who earned his family’s livelihood as a
scribe and translator. If Yahyā wrote this treatise at the request of his
church, the hierarchy made a smart move in entrusting the defense of
monastic celibacy to an active and respected married man. His argu-
ments had a particular force since, as a husband, father, and respected
scholar, no self-serving motive would prompt him to praise the virtues
of celibate life. He also comments, while referring to scholars leading
an ordinary life, that private means allow one to buy useful books and
to study with great masters. His own profession put him in contact with
many books and scholars.
In his argument, Yahyā must also counter one of the fears Muslims
harbor about celibacy, namely that it could lead to the extinction of
the human species. He does so on several fronts. First, recalling that
for some people marriage is preferable to celibacy as a context for the
pursuit of happiness and scholarship, he claims that some people will
always reproduce themselves. Furthermore, human sperm will always
have the capacity to produce people with “procreative” leanings, thereby
further assuring the perpetuity of the species. Though his argument
6
The Reformation of Morals, p. xlv.
I think that Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates were the most excellent in terms
of making choices, the most perfect in conduct, and more successful than
any of the other practitioners of philosophy and religion7 (n. 96).
Griffith suggests that Yahyā follows “the Ancient Christian penchant for
equating monasticism with the practice of the philosophy of Christ.”
This may well be true, but, as Yahyā’s Muslim audience was generally
unaware of this penchant in Christianity and of its meaning, we may
well suspect that his arguments left them with a peculiar conception
of celibacy and monasticism.
7
The Reformation of Morals. Ibid.