Erotic Spirituality
Burning Veils: Erotic Spirituality and Gender Fluid Mysticism in Sufi and Cross-Religious Poetics
By Farheen Bhuiyan Nancy
Timeframe: Mirpur Cantonment, Dhaka | 11:19 AM
Abstract
This essay explores the erotic mysticism of Persian Sufi poets such as Jalaluddin Rumi and Hafiz, and compares them with the Christian mystic St. John of the Cross, focusing on how love, longing, and desire are spiritualized and rendered gender-fluid. It examines how Sufi metaphysics dissolves binary distinctions—between lover and Beloved, male and female, self and God—and uses the language of the body to speak of the soul. Through this lens, eroticism is not merely tolerated within mysticism but becomes a sacred passageway to annihilation (fana) and divine union.
I. The Erotic Turn in Spiritual Poetics
Throughout mystical literature, erotic language has served as a conduit to describe what lies beyond language: union with the Divine. Whether in the moans of Hafiz, the yearning sighs of Rumi, or the dark ecstasy of St. John of the Cross, the body's desire becomes the soul's metaphor.
"I am your lover. Come to my side. I will open the gate to your love."
—Rumi
"I entered into unknowing, and there I remained unknowing, transcending all knowledge."
—St. John of the Cross
Here, the erotic is not about physical gratification—it is mystical disintegration, a longing so overwhelming that it breaks the self into fragments of divine light. Desire is thus sanctified, not suppressed.
II. Gender in Sufi Mysticism: A Dissolution, Not Reversal
In classical Persian Sufism, gender roles are not subverted—they are transcended.
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The Beloved, though often addressed in male pronouns (as in poems to Shams), is ontologically androgynous, symbolic of Divine Beauty (Jamal).
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The seeker (salik) is genderless in spirit, though often metaphorically feminized—indicating receptivity, surrender, and longing.
"I am woman in pain for Him, though I am man."
—Attar of Nishapur
This spiritual androgyny aligns with Ibn Arabi’s cosmology, where the Perfect Human (Insan al-Kamil) embodies both male and female principles. In his Bezels of Wisdom, he claims:
"The most complete contemplation of God is through woman."
Thus, femininity becomes theophanic—a mirror reflecting divine beauty, not biological limitation. The erotic, then, is both gendered and beyond gender—a place of transfiguration, not identification.
III. Rumi, Hafiz, and St. John of the Cross: A Comparative Axis
Poet | Tradition | Eroticism | Gendered Symbolism | Goal |
---|---|---|---|---|
Rumi | Sufi Islam | Erotic metaphors (kiss, wine, union) | Shams = male Beloved, but God is beyond gender | Fana (annihilation in God) |
Hafiz | Sufi Islam | Celebratory sensuality and divine intoxication | Wine-bearer is often feminine; ambiguity reigns | Joyful merging with the Beloved |
St. John | Christian Mysticism | Erotic longing, body metaphors ("wound", "kiss", "bed") | Soul as feminine bride of Christ | Union mystica—divine consummation |
All three poets speak erotically but mean mystically. They sanctify the language of sensuality not to dwell in the body but to launch the soul beyond it. For each, the erotic is an ontological invitation—a place where veils fall, dualities dissolve, and the seeker burns.
IV. Burning as a Spiritual Process
In both Hafiz and St. John, burning symbolizes purification through love.
“Love lit a fire in my chest, and anything that wasn't love left."
—Hafiz
“O living flame of love that tenderly wounds my soul!”
—St. John
This wound, this flame, is a spiritual orgasm—a rupture that births silence, stillness, and the unnamable. The mystic is not ashamed of longing. In fact, longing is proof of the divine trace within.
V. Contemporary Resonances and Feminist Reclamations
Today, this intersection of eroticism, mysticism, and gender offers powerful models of resistance and reclamation. Feminist mystics (like Fatima Mernissi, Leila Ahmed, and Luce Irigaray) have noted that mystical language often allows women and other marginalized bodies to subvert hegemonic theology through embodied spirituality.
The “female” mystic need not be literal—she can be a man in surrender, a soul in rapture, a poet in flames. Erotic mysticism gives us a fluid, decolonial language of the sacred—a space where love is not censored, and God is not male.
VI. Conclusion: The Veil Between Love and God
In the works of Rumi, Hafiz, and St. John of the Cross, we encounter not forbidden love, but love as the forbidden door—the trembling gate between the soul and the Real. The erotic becomes epistemic: it teaches, reveals, breaks. It is not contrary to mysticism—it is mysticism, when longing is all that remains and language becomes a flame.
References
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Ibn Arabi (1980). Bezels of Wisdom.
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Rumi (2004). The Essential Rumi, trans. Coleman Barks.
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Hafiz (2002). The Gift, trans. Daniel Ladinsky.
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St. John of the Cross (1991). Dark Night of the Soul.
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Irigaray, Luce (1985). This Sex Which Is Not One.
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Mernissi, Fatima (1991). The Veil and the Male Elite.
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Schimmel, Annemarie (1975). Mystical Dimensions of Islam.
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