Нашата библиотека: "The Death of a Prophet - The End of Muhammad's Life and the Beginnings of Islam" by Stephen J. Shoemaker

 ИЛИЯНА БЕНИНА  НИКОЛА БЕНИН

Divinations: ReReaDing 

Late ancient ReLigion

Series Editors

Daniel Boyarin, virginia Burrus, Derek Krueger

a complete list of books in the series

is available from the publisher.

The Death

of a Prophet

The end of Muhammad’s Life

and the Beginnings of islam

stephen J. shoemaker

University of Pennsylvania Press

PhiladelPhia

copyright © 2012 University of Pennsylvania Press

all rights reserved. except for brief quotations used for

purposes of review or scholarly citation, none of this book

may be reproduced in any form by any means without

written permission from the publisher.

Published by 

University of Pennsylvania Press 

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19104-4112

www.upenn.edu/pennpress

Printed in the United states of america on acid-free paper 

2  4  6  8  10  9  7  5  3  1 

Library of congress cataloging-in-Publication Data 

shoemaker, stephen J., 1968

The death of a prophet : the end of Muhammad’s life and

the beginnings of islam / stephen J. shoemaker. — 1st ed.

p. cm. —  (Divinations : rereading late ancient religion)

includes bibliographical references and index.

isBn 978-0-8122-4356-7 (hardcover : alk. paper)

1.  islam—History. 2.  islam—Historiography. 

3.  Muhammad, Prophet, d. 632.  i. title.

BP55.s46 2002

297.6’35—dc23

2011016426

For Melissa

 

Contents

introduction 

chapter 1. “a Prophet Has appeared, coming with the saracens”:

Muhammad’s Leadership during the conquest of Palestine 

according to seventh- and eighth-century sources

chapter 2. The end of Muhammad’s Life in early islamic Memory: 

The Witness of the Sīra tradition

chapter 3. The Beginnings of islam and the end of Days: 

Muhammad as eschatological Prophet

chapter 4. From Believers to Muslims, from Jerusalem to the Ḥijāz:

confessional identity and sacred geography in early islam

conclusion: Jesus and Muhammad, the apostle and the apostles

notes

Bibliography

index

acknowledgments

1

18

73

118

197

266

279

353

391

407

 

IntroductIon

The publication of Patricia Crone and Michael Cook’s controversial study

Hagarism in 1977 unquestionably marks a watershed in the study of religious

culture in the early medieval Near East, even if its significance has occasion

ally been underestimated by other specialists in this field.1 In particular, this

relatively slim volume highlighted the potential importance of non-Islamic

literature for knowledge of religious (and secular) history in the seventh and

eighth centuries, a so-called dark age for which sources are often sparse and

spotty.2 Perhaps more importantly, however, this study proposed a radical

new model for understanding both the formation of the Islamic tradition

and the general religious landscape of the early medieval Near East. Together

with the contemporary works of John Wansbrough, Hagarism articulated an

innovative reinterpretation of formative Islam as a faith intimately inter

twined with the religious traditions of Mediterranean late antiquity and in

need of extensive study in the context of this religiously complex and inter

cultural milieu.3

There are, it must be admitted, some considerable and undeniable flaws in

Hagarism’s reinterpretation of formative Islam, as even its most sympathetic

readers have often acknowledged. Most significantly, Hagarism has been rightly

criticized for its occasionally uncritical use of non-Islamic sources in recon

structing the origins of Islam.4 Wansbrough, for instance, asks rather pointedly

of Crone and Cook’s reconstruction: “Can a vocabulary of motives be freely

extrapolated from a discrete collection of literary stereotypes composed by alien

and mostly hostile observers, and thereupon employed to describe, even inter

pret, not merely the overt behavior but also the intellectual and spiritual devel

opment of helpless and mostly innocent actors?”5 Undoubtedly, Wansbrough’s

question is intended as rhetorical and meant to impugn the value of non

Islamic sources for understanding earliest Islam. Nonetheless, I think that the

most honest and accurate answer to this question is in fact, possibly. While

such information perhaps cannot be freely extracted from these sources, when

2

IntroductIon

analyzed with some care they may potentially yield historically valuable infor

mation concerning the beginnings of Islam

The imperfections of Hagarism should not lead us to discount completely

the important insights that both this study and its approach have to offer.6

While some scholars have somewhat unfairly dismissed Hagarism and its ap

proach as either hopelessly colonialist or methodologically flawed,7 there is still

much to gain from this seminal book. Wansbrough’s more considered rejection

of Hagarism reflects his concern for the overwhelming and historically distort

ing impact of “salvation history,” that is, theologized, sacred history, on both

the Islamic and non-Islamic sources, and in light of this he essentially commit

ted himself to an historical agnosticism regarding the origins of Islam.8 Yet

such resignation is not our only option. Admittedly, both Wansbrough and

Robert Hoyland after him have correctly noted that non-Muslim sources alone

“cannot provide a complete and coherent account of the history of Early Islam,”

as was essentially proposed in Hagarism.9 But this recognition does not some

how make non-Islamic witnesses to the religious history of the seventh and

eighth centuries any less valuable as a whole than the early Islamic sources, and

on particular points they may possibly report more reliably than the Islamic

tradition, as this study will argue. Almost all the documentary resources for

understanding the formative period of Islam, including even the Qurʾān, are

highly problematic from a religious historian’s viewpoint: these sources are fre

quently overwhelmed and controlled by a master narrative of sacred history, as

well as being influenced by the social, political, and theological concerns of the

particular groups that produced them. But such conditions do not present an

altogether uncommon or impossible circumstance.

There are ways of extracting historically credible data from such “contami

nated” repositories. We must deploy methods capable of identifying different

types of bias and excavating information from these sources, along the lines of

those techniques used to reconstruct the historical Jesus from the highly theol

ogized narratives of the Christian gospels. This endeavor will not yield, to be

sure, history “wie es eigentlich gewesen,” but this was always a hyper-modern

fantasy in any case.10 Instead, we will be able to reconstruct a narrative (or quite

possibly several narratives) of Islamic origins that possesses a degree of proba

bility derived from the particular methodological principles used to assess the

relative reliability of various testimonies concerning the formation of Islam.

Hagarism opened the door to this new approach, and in its wake we must criti

cally assess the strikingly dissimilar descriptions of earliest Islam often found

in the non-Islamic sources of the seventh and eighth centuries and in the more

Introduction

3

traditional Islamic accounts from the later eighth and ninth centuries. While a

great deal of investigation still remains to be done along these lines, the past

two decades have already seen some excellent work in this area, much of it in

spired by the initial insights of Crone and Cook.11

Rather than pursuing one of the many new issues that undoubtedly

await exploration, the present study will return to what was surely one of

Hagarism’s most startling revelations: its identification of widespread reports

from seventh- and eighth-century writers that Muhammad was still alive

and leading the Islamic community as his followers began their invasion of

the Roman Near East. This indication is strikingly at odds with the tradi

tional account of Muhammad’s death before the Near Eastern conquest at

Medina in 632, first recorded in the earliest Islamic biographies of the mid

eighth and ninth centuries. With so many unanswered questions still to pur

sue, one might rightly question the return to an issue raised now already over

thirty years ago. There are, however, several reasons for doing so. In the first

place, Crone and Cook merely note the existence of this discrepancy in the

sources, gathering many of the most significant references together in an

endnote. Instead of carefully evaluating the historical significance of these

witnesses both individually and collectively, they conclude their list of refer

ences with only the remark: “The convergence is impressive.”12 Indeed it is,

but can we say something more than this? Might a critical analysis of the

sources give us some sense of how much historical weight they can bear, both

individually and collectively? Is it possible that, even if Muhammad did not

in fact lead the Islamic conquest of Palestine, this tradition might reveal

something about the nature of formative Islam?

In all fairness, we are presently much better equipped to pose such ques

tions, in large part due to the excellent work of Hoyland, most notably in his

Seeing Islam as Others Saw It. Not only has Hoyland produced an outstand

ing catalogue of the many references to early Islam made in non-Islamic

sources,13 but he takes the project that was begun in Hagarism an important

step forward by proposing a basic methodology for evaluating the signifi

cance of these sources, as well as providing examples of its application. In es

sence, Hoyland proposes that we should ask three basic questions of each

potential witness to assess its historical worth: What is the source of its

observation(s) about early Islam? What is the character of the observation?

And what is the subject of the observation? The first question rather straight

forwardly asks us to consider the reliability of each author’s source: Was he

himself an eyewitness to what he reports? Did she hear it from those who

4

IntroductIon

were eyewitnesses? Or is it merely hearsay or gossip?14 Clearly there is a de

scending scale of reliability as one moves down this list. In addition, Hoy

land suggests that we consider the nature of the observation itself: does the

source report a “simple observation of fact,” or does the information in ques

tion serve some sort of apologetic agenda or “totalizing explanation”?15 “Simple

observations,” Hoyland suggests, will likely have a much higher degree of

historical veracity. Somewhat related to this is the third principle, which

questions the nature of the matter that the non-Islamic source describes: Is it

something that an outsider would likely have accurate knowledge of? That is,

does the statement reflect something that would be readily observable by a

non-Muslim, or even better, is it something that would have directly affected

non-Muslims? In such cases, the witness of non-Muslim writers is more

likely to transmit reliable information. When the same writers comment on

aspects of Islamic belief and intra-communal life, however, we must adopt a

more skeptical approach to their reports.16

These are sound principles for assessing the relative worth of the various

non-Islamic witnesses to the earliest history of Islam, to which I would add

one further: the criterion of multiple, independent attestation, one of the

oldest and most fundamental principles of modern biblical criticism and par

ticularly important for studies of the historical Jesus.17 As biblical scholars

have long recognized, a higher degree of historical probability inheres in ob

servations attested by several independent sources, since this pattern makes

it highly unlikely that a particular writer has invented a given report. When

a particular tradition from the non-Islamic sources meets all of these criteria,

there is a significant probability that such a report reflects genuine informa

tion about the formative period of Islam. While it cannot be said with any

certainty that these witnesses disclose what really happened, such reports

present high-quality information that derives from the period in question.

Nevertheless, despite their exceptional value, these testimonies should not

simply be taken at face value, and they need to be compared critically with

related traditions from the earliest Islamic sources.

When there is sharp disagreement with the canonical narratives of Is

lamic origins, as is the case with the circumstances of Muhammad’s death,

one must also subject the relevant Islamic sources to a similar scrutiny, in

order to determine if the difference reflects the influence of later theological,

political, literary, or other interests within the Islamic tradition. This process

will involve bringing the full toolkit of historical criticism to bear on the tra

ditions of the Qurʾān and the earliest narratives of Islamic origins, including

Introduction

5

elements of form criticism, tradition criticism, Tendenz criticism, and, when

ever possible, source criticism and redaction criticism. Likewise, in such cir

cumstances it will be important to look for any anomalies within the Islamic

tradition that might corroborate the reports of the non-Islamic sources. Here

the criterion of embarrassment or dissimilarity (that is, dissimilarity from the

later tradition) is particularly valuable. According to this cornerstone of his

torical Jesus studies, material sharply at odds with the received tradition is

unlikely to have been invented by the later community; such divergences

from established belief and practice are instead likely remnants of an older

formation, preserved in spite of their deviance on account of their antiquity.18

When a number of witnesses converge to reveal the same discordant theme,

there is a high probability that this material reflects a particularly early tradi

tion that has been effaced from the canonical sources. Moreover, if evidence

from the non-Islamic sources exhibits coherence with such anomalies in the

early Islamic sources, then there is an even greater likelihood that this repre

sents a primitive aspect of the Islamic faith that was either altered or aban

doned by the later tradition.

Hoyland has recently questioned the value of this criterion of dissimilarity

or embarrassment for the reconstruction of early Islam, characterizing such

reasoning as “highly dubious.”19 As evidence against the value of this principle,

Hoyland refers to John Burton’s explanation of the Satanic Verses episode from

Muhammad’s early biographies: while scholars have overwhelmingly looked to

this embarrassing moment from Muhammad’s career as almost certainly genu

ine, since “it is unthinkable that the story could have been invented by Mus

lims,”20 Burton suggests that the story was indeed invented to show “that

Qurʾanic verses could be divinely withdrawn without verbal replacement.”21

Nevertheless, Burton’s rather complicated argument has not gained much trac

tion, and his proposal that the entire story was invented simply to provide jus

tification for a particular form of Qurʾānic abrogation is not very persuasive

and certainly does not afford sufficient grounds for abolishing this core princi

ple of historical and textual analysis.22 Hoyland further remarks that the rea

soning behind this criterion “implies that our modern views on what is

favourable or not coincide with those of early Muslims.” Yet Burton’s alterna

tive merely replaces this modern viewpoint with the arcane world of early

Qurʾānic exegesis, and one must admit that it is certainly no less problematic to

view the origins of Islam through the lens of the medieval Islamic tradition and

its interpretive categories. In this regard, Gerald Hawting’s analysis of the Sa

tanic Verses tradition offers a far more compelling interpretation than Burton’s,

6

IntroductIon

while also preserving the value of the criterion of dissimilarity.23 Arguing on

the basis of the Qurʾān, Hawting persuasively identifies angelic intercession

rather than idolatry as the main issue here, establishing a credible context for

this episode within the religious milieu reflected in the Qurʾān. Likewise,

Hawting makes equally clear the improbability that the story is a later fabrica

tion based on the Qurʾān, as well as explaining its suppression in many sources

as a result of the Islamic tradition’s association of Muhammad’s opponents

with polytheism and idolatry.24

 Admittedly, Hoyland’s caution that one must be careful about assum

ing that modern ideas of tension or contradiction within the Islamic tradi

tion coincide with those of early Muslims is an important point. Such

concerns certainly warrant constant and careful consideration, but they need

not paralyze historical analysis: reconstruction of the past always involves

viewing its events through the lens of the present, no matter which methods

or criteria the historian applies.25 No (post)modern historian can escape the

limitations of her social and intellectual context, and as salubrious as Hoy

land’s warning is to historians in general, it seems there is no alternative

“view from nowhere” that does not bring contemporary concerns and per

spectives to the analysis of the past. If we are to abandon the toolkit of mod

ern historical study simply because of its own historical contingencies, then

we presumably must resign ourselves either to a radical historical agnosticism

or to the indigenous critique of the Islamic tradition itself. Moreover, the ap

plication of this criterion of historical analysis is not simply a matter of judg

ing a tradition “either false or authentic,” as Hoyland somewhat incorrectly

draws the dichotomy in his critique, but instead this method affords princi

ples for identifying a probability that certain material is unlikely to have

originated in specific historical circumstances. In the case of traditions that

are strongly divergent from the beliefs and practices of second- and third

century Islam or its canonical memory of origins, one must admit that these

are less likely to have been invented by the later community than traditions

undergirding the classical Islam of the ʿAbbāsid era. While Hoyland’s im

plicit critique of modern historiography’s claim to divide truth from fiction

is welcome, his rejection of this method of analysis for its failure to yield such

objective results is not fully persuasive.

On the basis of these methodological principles, the present study will

argue that the witness of certain non-Islamic sources that Muhammad sur

vived to lead the invasion of Palestine preserves what is quite possibly a genuine

early Islamic tradition, despite the fact that several recent articles would suggest

Introduction

7

otherwise. For instance, Hoyland, who generally advocates the value of non

Islamic sources for reconstructing early Islamic history, has somewhat surpris

ingly taken the opposing view. In his study of Muhammad’s life as reported in

Christian writings, Hoyland initially notes the clear witness of these sources to

Muhammad’s sustained vitality but then rather strangely concludes that these

sources are collectively mistaken in their notice of a later date for Muhammad’s

death. Without much explanation at all, he declares the accuracy of the tradi

tional Islamic sources on this matter, despite the fact that his own criteria could

seem to favor the reliability of the Christian sources in this case.26 To my

knowledge the only other study to address the relationship between the various

Christian accounts of the Arab conquests and the Islamic biographies of

Muhammad specifically and in any detail is an article entitled “La ‘Sira’ du

Prophète Mahomet et les conquêtes des arabes dans le Proche-Orient d’après

les sources syriaques,” an article published in the proceedings from a confer

ence on the life of Muhammad some thirty years ago. Unfortunately, its au

thor, Bertold Spuler, not only disregards some of the most important sources,

but he rather astonishingly asserts the fundamental harmony of all the sources

and completely overlooks their differences concerning Muhammad’s involve

ment in the Palestinian campaign.27 Finally, we may add to this a report in the

popular media that Crone and Cook have allegedly “backed away from” their

earlier views concerning the date of Muhammad’s death as expressed in

Hagarism, although I have not yet found any evidence of such a retraction in

print.28 In fact, to the contrary, Cook has maintained the significance of the

non-Islamic sources on this point, writing in the same year as the article in

question that “non-Muslim sources written in the following decades [after 632]

give only very scrappy information and are subject to problems of their own.

One point of interest is that they suggest that Muhammad was still alive when

the Muslim expansion outside Arabia began.”29 Even more recently, Crone has

similarly written that these sources “convey the impression that he was actually

leading the invasions. Mohammad’s death is normally placed in 632, but the

possibility that it should be placed two or three years later cannot be completely

excluded.”30

In light of the rather negative assessment that this report of Muham

mad’s vitality during the Palestinian invasion has received in recent publica

tions, it seems necessary to revisit the question of Muhammad’s death, not

so much with the goal of determining when he really died, but with an eye

toward whether these non-Islamic sources may in fact preserve an early tradi

tion that was subsequently revised as Islam’s self-image and self-understanding

8

IntroductIon

were transformed. This book seeks to determine if Muhammad’s leadership

during the invasion of Palestine is something that might have comported

with the beliefs of the earliest Muslims, insofar as they can be known, and,

likewise, if are there reasons to suspect that there might have been cause to

re-remember the end of his life differently at a later point. The larger purpose

of this investigation thus lies not in the possibility of adjusting the date of

Muhammad’s death by a few years. Instead, this difference in the early

sources affords an important opening through which to explore the nature

of primitive Islam more broadly. Likewise, this study aims to demonstrate

the potential value of non-Islamic sources for reconstructing the history of

formative Islam, when these sources are used in a methodologically critical

manner and in conjunction with, rather than isolation from, Islamic sources.

While others have already made similar demonstrations, including Lawrence

Conrad and Hoyland in particular,31 in view of the generally negative recep

tion of Hagarism and its approach within Islamic studies as a whole, it would

appear that this point bears repeating.

A related goal of the study is to work toward narrowing the divide that ex

ists between the study of religion and culture in Mediterranean late antiquity

and the investigation of Islamic origins, an objective that it shares with much

recent scholarship on late antiquity and early Islam.32 In both its methods and

its conclusions, this monograph presents a case for interpreting the beginnings

of Islam more within the context of the broader late ancient world, rather than

according to the more traditional view of Islam’s formation in the relative isola

tion of the Ḥijāz. By interpreting the rise of Islam in continuity with, rather

than separation from, the world of Mediterranean late antiquity, we are sure to

gain new perspectives on both.33 Moreover, this study aims to demonstrate the

value of studying Islamic origins using the same methods and perspectives that

have long been utilized in the investigation of early Christianity and early Ju

daism. The hermeneutics of suspicion have profoundly affected the modern

study of formative Christianity and Judaism, but this skeptical approach has

yet to significantly affect the comparatively more sanguine attitudes often dis

played by scholars of early Islam. Accordingly this book is aimed not only at

scholars of early Islam but also at scholars of the New Testament and early

Christianity. It is hoped that by attempting to bridge the disciplines of Chris

tian and Islamic origins methodologically this study might generate further

comparative discussion among experts in both fields.

This investigation thus will adopt the more skeptical approach to the

sources that is characteristic of the historical-critical study of early Christianity

Introduction

9

and the historical figure of Jesus. It expects of early Islamic traditions that they

meet the same rigorous criteria that scholars of formative Christianity have ap

plied in judging the historicity of traditions contained in early Christian litera

ture. Although this study will treat traditional narratives of Islamic origins

with a great deal of suspicion, this will not exceed the skepticism that scholars

of religious history bring to bear on similar narratives of Christian origins. It is

very important to stress this methodological consistency, particularly in light

of the fact that the sīra traditions and their historicity have lately become a sen

sitive issue in contemporary Islam. While the medieval Islamic tradition was

itself rather circumspect regarding the historical authenticity of these tradi

tions, in more recent years, largely in response to the historical-critical study of

these traditions in the West, the sīra traditions have become in the Islamic

world “almost a holy writ, whose reliability was accepted almost without ask

ing questions.”34 The result is a deep and widening gap between Western and

Islamic interpretation of both the sīra traditions and the ḥadīth more generally:

the methodological skepticism that guides much modern scholarship on these

topics is often rejected out of hand by traditional Islamic scholarship and occa

sionally seen as an attack on Islam itself.

This divide between modern secular and traditional Islamic scholarship

over the historical reliability of the sīra and ḥadīth presents an important

context for understanding both the nature and intensions of this investiga

tion into early Islamic history. This study and the methods that it employs

are in no way aimed at casting doubt on the religious truth of the Islamic

tradition. Instead, this book explores a particular aspect of formative Islam

from a point of view outside the Islamic tradition, with explicit commit

ments to the principles of modern, secular historical criticism and the herme

neutics of suspicion rather than fidelity to the traditions and values of the

Islamic faith. When approached from this secular perspective, with its spe

cific concerns and commitments, the formative period of Islam will rather

obviously look quite different than it does from within the umma. It is im

portant to recognize, however, that both perspectives on Islamic origins are

certainly valid, and within their own contexts and communities they are

rightly understood to disclose truth. One approach interprets early Islam

from the outside, confessing the skepticism of the secular academy, while the

other presents a sacred history of formative Islam, a narrative that both

shapes and is shaped by the Islamic faith and its community.

Neither perspective then can claim to represent an unbiased account of

Islamic origins that somehow is obvious to any objective observer: both

10

IntroductIon

understandings are fully intelligible only within the particular interpretive

communities that produce them. Moreover, one perspective does not necessar

ily invalidate the other, and the conclusions of traditional Islamic and modern

secular scholarship can both rightly claim to be valid within their own cultural

and intellectual contexts. In fact, it is quite possible for an individual to ap

proach a particular issue simultaneously from both a secular point of view and

a confessional one, as numerous Western scholars have demonstrated.35 What

must be conceded on all sides, however, is that truth depends on the context of

an interpretive community, be it religious or secular, and there is no objective

truth that will appear as such to every individual and in every cultural context.

This approach then does not negate the truth of Islamic accounts of formative

Islam: they are in fact true for those whose worldview has been and continues

to be shaped most fundamentally by the Islamic tradition. Likewise, those out

side the Islamic faith community will not necessarily find Islam’s representa

tion of its own early history to be true in the same way that Muslims do.36 In

similar fashion, however, secular knowledge must also recognize the situated

ness of its own truth claims: it may only claim to be objective perhaps in the

somewhat limited sense that it approaches Islam, for instance, from the outside

and thus as an object of study.37

Finally, if some readers may perhaps think it entirely implausible that

the Islamic tradition has incorrectly preserved something as significant as

the time and place of its founder’s death, a quick glance at formative Christi

anity is instructive. Undoubtedly many scholars of early Islam will want to

persist in maintaining the accuracy of the traditional Islamic accounts of

Muhammad’s death and burial, regarding the deviant reports considered in

this study as simply misinformed errors coming from those outside of the Is

lamic community. Yet it is not at all clear why the traditional Islamic narra

tives of Muhammad’s death should warrant such implicit confidence,

particularly in the face of this alternative early tradition. The simple fact that

the Islamic accounts were produced by insiders in no way guarantees the ac

curacy of their information, any more so than one would presume that the

Christian gospels accurately record the life and death of Jesus on the basis of

their production by insiders. Indeed, to the contrary, it is for this very reason

that New Testament scholars are generally suspicious of the gospel accounts,

seeking to test them whenever possible by quality evidence drawn from ex

ternal sources. This sharp contrast with the study of early Islam is seen quite

clearly in F. E. Peters’s recent comparative study, Jesus and Muhammad,

where the discussion of Jesus begins with evidence from the “pagan” and

Introduction

11

Jewish sources, while evidence from non-Islamic sources for the beginnings

of Islam is rather strangely ignored.38

The earliest extant gospels were written between forty and seventy years

after the death of Jesus, based in part on earlier literary sources that had begun

to form perhaps some twenty years after his death, a considerably smaller inter

val than the time elapsed between Muhammad’s death and his earliest biogra

phies. Yet despite the fact that Jesus’ biography took written form more quickly

than did Muhammad’s, the gospels have significant disagreements in chronol

ogy, including perhaps most famously the differences between the synoptic and

Johannine gospels regarding the length of Jesus’ ministry. Likewise, the date of

Jesus’ death, for instance, can only be known approximately: 28–33 ce.39 Yet

perhaps more comparable with the tradition of Muhammad’s death in Medina

are actually the accounts of Jesus’ birth. These reveal that only half a century

after Jesus’ death, the early Christians had created a historically improbable

tradition of his birth in Bethlehem to serve the needs of Christian salvation

history.40 Still more apt is the comparison of Islam’s apostle with early Chris

tian traditions about its apostles. Take, for example, the apostle Peter, whose

death and burial are located in Rome by multiple, independent reports written

just over a century after the fact: there is even an early tomb identified as the

site of this burial. Yet there is considerable debate as to whether Peter was ever

even in Rome, and the most recent analysis argues rather persuasively that in

fact he was not.41 Likewise, traditions from the second century identify Ephe

sus as the apostle John’s final resting place, some of which are allegedly based

on oral transmission spanning only two generations. Yet the strong consensus

of New Testament scholarship rejects the accuracy of these reports.42 If then

early Christian traditions concerning Jesus and the apostles could be subject to

such manipulation over the course of just a century or even less, how much

more so might one expect to find similar developments in the early Islamic bi

ographies of Muhammad, whose contents are widely regarded as highly styl

ized and untrustworthy.

Such adjustments to a religious tradition’s memory of its early history

are in fact not at all unusual and need not be judged as either deceptive or

the product of some insidious conspiracy (as some scholars of early Islam

have wanted to insist). To the contrary, it is quite common to find that a reli

gious community has revised certain important aspects of its formative his

tory to comport with its most cherished theological principles, as the

Christian Nativity traditions bear witness. Often such revisions serve to ex

tend and intensify the interpretive power and cohesion of a religion’s core

12

IntroductIon

narrative by incorporating various important religious symbols and practices

into the story of its origins. The early Christian gospel writers, like Muham

mad’s early biographers presumably, simply were not interested in writing an

objective description of past events in the fashion that modern history val

ues. Their narratives urgently seek to communicate the truth about Jesus

Christ and the meaning of his life, death, and resurrection: to expect a dis

passionate inventory of events would be both anachronistic and absurd.

Moreover, the pious fictions of early Christian literature would be wrongly

condemned as frauds or deceptions: to the contrary, they undoubtedly were

efforts to proclaim the truth, as seen by the authors and their communities,

with perfect clarity.43 One would only expect that similar impulses and de

velopments are to be found in the nascent Islamic tradition, and as I will

argue, the early Islamic traditions of the end of Muhammad’s life (much like

the Christian Nativity traditions) appear to have adapted the arc of his biogra

phy to fit the needs of early Islamic identity and salvation history nearly a cen

tury after his death. Consequently, our knowledge of exactly when

Muhammad died is not nearly as certain as much previous scholarship has as

sumed, and it seems we must accordingly adjust our historical estimate for the

end of his life to sometime more approximately within the period 632–35 ce.

The first chapter of this study examines the various sources from the sev

enth and eighth centuries that attest to Muhammad’s survival and leadership

at the time of the initial assault on the Roman Near East, circa 634–65. Al

though later sources, particularly from the Christian tradition, continue to

repeat this tradition, this chapter focuses on witnesses from the first century

and a half after Muhammad’s death. Sources from this period hold special

value as potential bearers of early traditions that may subsequently have been

displaced once the canonical narratives of Islamic origins came to be estab

lished during the later eighth century.44 At that time, Ibn Isḥāq’s officially

sanctioned biography of Muhammad, as well as the teachings of other con

temporary Medinan traditionists, began to be widely known. From this

point onward, the life of Muhammad as remembered by Muslims and non

Muslims alike was largely governed by the contents of these canonical biog

raphies. Early evidence of their influence outside of the Islamic tradition can

be seen already in the early ninth-century Chronicle of Theophanes, which,

owing to direct influence from Islamic sources, is the first non-Islamic source

to “correctly” relate Muhammad’s decease prior to the invasion of Palestine.

The fact that later Christian sources, and in particular the Western Christian

accounts of Muhammad’s death surveyed by Etan Kohlberg, should largely

Introduction

13

adhere to the traditional Islamic chronology is merely testimony to the as

cendency and authority of these canonical biographies within the Islamic

tradition of the second and later centuries.45

Eleven different sources from this period, including even one from the Is

lamic tradition itself, indicate Muhammad’s continued survival at the begin

nings of Near Eastern conquests. Each of these documents is first evaluated

individually to assess the quality of its testimony. Then, the chapter considers

the collective value of these reports, reaching the conclusion that they convinc

ingly bear witness to an early tradition that Muhammad was still alive and

leading the Islamic community as his followers invaded Roman Syria and Pal

estine. This tradition, it would appear, reached each of the various religious

communities of the early Islamic empire by the beginning of the second cen

tury ah, and it is not contradicted by the more traditional chronology of Mu

hammad’s decease until after the composition of Ibn Isḥāq’s influential

biography of Muhammad around 750 ce. As such, this divergent tradition re

garding the end of Muhammad’s life merits serious historical consideration.

The following chapter turns to the traditional Islamic account of Mu

hammad’s death and burial, focusing especially on Ibn Isḥāq’s biography, the

earliest surviving Islamic narrative of Muhammad’s life and the beginnings

of Islam. Here the details of Muhammad’s sudden illness, his demise, and

his interment as recorded in this collection are first described and then com

pared with other early biographical sources, in order to determine which tra

ditions might possibly derive from earlier authorities. The results of this

endeavor, however, prove rather meager, and most of the material concerning

Muhammad’s death and burial in Ibn Isḥāq’s biography cannot be assigned

to any earlier figure. While a limited number of traditions can be attributed

to Ibn Isḥāq’s teacher, al-Zuhrī (d. 742 ce), these reveal only Muhammad’s

sudden illness and death in an urban context, surrounded by his wives and

in the vicinity of a place of prayer where his followers regularly gathered to

worship. The location of Muhammad’s death and burial in Medina and the

chronology of these events relative to the Near Eastern conquests, however,

cannot be ascribed with any assurance to al-Zuhrī. Ibn Isḥāq’s biography re

mains the earliest witness to these traditions, and while one certainly cannot

entirely exclude the possibility that he had received this information from al

Zuhrī or some other early authority, there is no evidence for this hypothesis.

This chapter continues to consider the issue of chronology within the

early biographies of Muhammad more generally, observing that modern

scholarship judges the traditional chronology of Muhammad’s life to be

14

IntroductIon

among the most artificial and unreliable elements of these narratives, appar

ently devised by his biographers only near the end of the first Islamic cen

tury. Moreover, a handful of sources from the early Islamic tradition indicate

either a period of seven or thirteen years for Muhammad’s Medinan period

(instead of ten years) or a date for the hijra of 624/25 (instead of 621/22): these

variants reveal a significant pattern consistent with the possible revision of

an earlier tradition of Muhammad’s death in order to place these events prior

to the invasion of Palestine. Finally, Chapter 2 examines several anomalous

reports from Ibn Isḥāq’s biography that could suggest traces of an older tra

dition associating Muhammad with the assault on Palestine. On the whole,

these features of Muhammad’s earliest biographies invite a possibility that

the traditional memory of Muhammad’s death in the Ḥijāz prior to the in

vasion of the Near East is a relatively recent development.

Nevertheless such significant revisions to the ending of Muhammad’s

life in early Islamic memory would seem to require some sort of substantial

catalyst. Several broad literary tendencies of the early biographical traditions

could seem to favor these changes, including particularly the strong influ

ence of certain biblical typologies on the structure of the narrative. Never

theless, while these tendencies may have contributed to such a reconfiguration

of Muhammad’s biography, they do not in themselves seem sufficient to have

generated this change. The second half of this monograph accordingly iden

tifies evidence of significant ideological shifts in early Islamic eschatology,

confessional identity, and sacred geography that profoundly transformed the

nature of Muhammad’s original religious movement. These dramatic

changes not only provide a context that can account for the existence of an

early tradition associating Muhammad with the invasion of Palestine, but they

also present circumstances that would explain a need to sever his connection

with the Near Eastern conquest and instead to memorialize the death of Is

lam’s founding prophet in the Ḥijāz.

Chapter 3 argues that Muhammad was an eschatological prophet who to

gether with his earliest followers expected to witness the imminent end of the

world in the divine judgment of the Hour, seemingly within his own lifetime.

Much twentieth-century scholarship, particularly in English, has sought to

minimize this aspect of earliest Islam, identifying Muhammad instead as a

social-reforming prophet of ethical monotheism. But the evidence of the

Qurʾān and certain early apocalyptic (or more precisely, eschatological) ḥadīth

clearly show that Muhammad and the early members of his religious move

ment believed that they would soon see the end of history.46 Moreover, it seems

Introduction

15

rather likely that the eschatological fervor shared by Muhammad and his earli

est followers was a driving force behind the Islamic conquest of the Near East:

their anticipation of the Hour was, it would appear, closely linked with the res

toration of Abraham’s descendants to the Promised Land. Yet when Muham

mad died before the eschaton’s arrival and the Hour continued to be delayed,

the early Muslims had to radically reorient their religious vision. The Hour was

thus increasingly deferred into the distant future, and in less than a century

Islam swiftly transformed itself from a religion expecting the end of the world

to a religion that aimed to rule the world. In the course of such a profound

transition, one would imagine that more than just the eschatological timetable

was revised, and as the fourth chapter demonstrates, there were related changes

in the nature of the early Islamic community’s confessional boundaries and the

location of its sacred geography.

The final chapter looks first at the seemingly nonsectarian nature of the

early Islamic community.47 Numerous signs point to the existence of a primi

tive, inter-confessional “community of the Believers” that welcomed Jews

and apparently even Christians to full membership, so long as they sub

scribed to a simple profession of faith in “God and the last day.” Muhammad

does not appear to have been understood at this stage as a prophet of unique

stature but was viewed instead as an eschatological herald who had been sent

to warn the descendants of Abraham before the final judgment of the Hour.

Unsurprisingly, the eschatological hopes of these early Believers looked to Je

rusalem and Palestine, the Promised Land of their common inheritance, as

the sacred landscape within which God would soon realize the climax of his

tory. Although Muhammad’s religious movement may perhaps have origi

nated somewhere in the Ḥijāz, it seems clear that the western coast of Arabia

was not originally its holy land. Jerusalem, and not Mecca and Medina, ap

pears to have stood at the center of early Islam’s sacred map, which is only to

be expected if Islam began, as seems likely, as an eschatological faith

grounded in a shared Abrahamic identity. Only as Islam progressively trans

formed itself over the course of the seventh century from an inter-confes

sional Abrahamic eschatological movement into the distinctively Arab faith

of an empire defined by Muhammad’s unique prophetic message did its sa

cred geography change accordingly. During this period, the Ḥijāzī cities of

Mecca and Medina gradually emerged at the center of a new sacred geogra

phy more suited to the sectarian, Arabian faith of classical Islam. This strug

gle to redefine the Islamic holy land reached its climax in the events of the

Second Civil War, a conflict that seems to have been partly grounded in

16

IntroductIon

competing ideas of sacred geography and whose outcome appears to have

largely settled the matter in favor of the Ḥijāz.

These changing circumstances can persuasively explain the existence of

an early tradition of Muhammad’s leadership during his followers’ invasion

of Palestine as well as its eventual replacement. One would expect that a reli

gious movement driven by an urgent eschatology focused on Jerusalem,

which earliest Islam appears to have been, would have originally wanted to

remember its founding prophet as leading the faithful into the Promised

Land to meet the Final Judgment. Even if Muhammad never actually made

it to the Holy Land, one can well imagine that his early followers would have

come to remember their early history as such. Yet once the focus of Islamic de

votion turned to Mecca and Medina, a new memory of Muhammad’s quietus

would be required, one that joined the fulfillment of his career to the newly

consecrated landscape of the Ḥijāz: just such an account one finds in the ca

nonical Islamic narratives of Muhammad’s death.

The similarity of this hypothesis to the solution proposed by the authors of

Hagarism certainly should not be missed. As the eschatological hopes of the

early Believers went unfulfilled, Jerusalem and the Holy Land lost much of

their significance, eventually to be replaced by the sacred cities of Mecca and

Medina. Consequently, Crone and Cook conclude that “the Prophet was dis

engaged from the original Palestinian venture by a chronological revision

whereby he died two years before the invasion began.”48 While certain other

facets of Hagarism’s reconstruction of Islamic origins may now seem somewhat

dubious, such as its proposal concerning an early Islamic messianism, the iden

tification of earliest Islam as an eschatological movement focused on Jerusalem

and the Holy Land remains persuasive and has been validated by much subse

quent research. As this study argues, the reports indicating Muhammad’s lead

ership during the Near Eastern conquests first identified by Hagarism most

likely reflect an early Islamic tradition that was eventually abandoned: the in

formation is attested by a wide range of high-quality sources, and the tradition’s

early acceptance as well as its eventual rejection both comport with certain

major changes in the development of primitive Islam.

Finally, while some scholars of Islam might protest that such an ap

proach merely perpetuates the sins of earlier Orientalist scholarship, I would

argue that such accusations are neither very helpful nor warranted. To be

sure, the manner in which we choose to represent other cultures, and partic

ularly those cultures that have been victims of Western colonization and ag

gression, demands serious and constant reflection.49 Out of such concerns,

Introduction

17

many scholars from both the Islamic world and the West have proposed that

the academic study of Islam must accordingly respect Islamic truth claims

regarding Islam’s most authoritative traditions, the Qurʾān and the Sunna,

and refrain from subjecting them to historical criticism. To do otherwise,

some would maintain, is to commit what essentially amounts to an act of in

tellectual colonialism.50 Although I deeply sympathize with the concerns

that give rise to this position, it simply does not present an adequate solution

in my view, at least not from the vantage of the academic discipline of reli

gious studies.51 Insofar as the approach taken in this study merely applies

methods and perspectives of analysis to formative Islam that have now for

well over a century been utilized in the study of Jewish and Christian ori

gins, one must recognize just how “othering” it is to insist that Islam—and

it alone—should be shielded from similar study. One thereby runs the risk

of presenting the Islamic tradition in comparison as something fragile and

pristine, whose unique perspective is somehow harmed by the application of

modern criticism. Thus, while the broader political context identified by Ed

ward Said as well as many others certainly cannot be simply ignored, I would

argue that it is at the same time essential, for both intellectual and pedagogi

cal reasons, to conduct investigations into the earliest history of Islam, as

Chase Robinson recommends, “committed to the idea that the history made

by Muslims is comparable to that 

made by non-Muslims.”52

Част от погребално шествие, което вероятно някога е украсявало параклис в гробница / Part of a funerary procession that probably once decorated a tomb chapel

 ИЛИЯНА БЕНИНА  НИКОЛА БЕНИН

Част от погребално шествие, което вероятно някога е украсявало параклис в гробница. Мъжът отпред носи букет папирус, докато мъжът отзад държи два канопа, съдържащи вътрешните органи на починалия. 18-та или 19-та династия. Изложено в музея Имхотеп в Саккара. Музеен номер SQ.CU.ST.208.

Part of a funerary procession that probably once decorated a tomb chapel. The man is front carries a bunch of papyrus flower, while the man behind holds two canopic jars holding the internal organs of the deceased. 18th or 19th dynasty. On display in the Imhotep Museum at Saqqara. Museum number SQ.CU.ST.208.

Слънцето над Саккара не просто грееше; то изгаряше времето, превръщайки вековете в фина, златиста прах, която скърцаше между зъбите на живите. В онази каменна тишина, скрита зад стените на днешния музей „Имхотеп“, под инвентарен номер SQ.CU.ST.208, почиваше един фрагмент от вечността — откъртена плът от гробничен параклис, вкаменена вяра от епохата на Осемнадесетата династия.

Мъжът отпред вървеше с приведена глава, а в ръцете му свежият букет от папируси беше замръзнал в варовика преди повече от три хиляди години. Стеблата бяха изсечени с онази педантична, почти хирургическа прецизност, която французинът от XIX век би разпознал като фанатизъм, а средновековният монах — като свещена геометрична лудост. Папирусът — символ на новото раждане, на праисторическото блато, от което боговете бяха изваяли света — все още излъчваше тихия улас на нилските тини.

Точно зад него, на крачка разстояние в това безкрайно дефиле на скърбящите, крачеше вторият носач. Ръцете му стискаха здраво два канопа. В тези глинени съдове не почиваха просто изсъхнали органи; там бяха затворени страстите, греховете, жлъчката и коварството на един мъртъв жрец. Чодът на историята — тази неумолима машина за мелене на човешки суети — бе превърнал белите дробове и черния дроб в мистерия, защитена от четирите сина на Хор.

Двамата мъже не гледаха един към друг. В техните профили нямаше страх, а само сурова, геометрична служба на Празнотата. Те пренасяха анатомията на един живот към вечния съд на Озирис. Зад тях сякаш все още се чуваше глухият тътNormal на погребалните песни, смесен с вика на платените плакачки.

Някъде в сенките на параклиса, преди длетото на времето да строши релефа и да го превърне в музеен експонат, майсторът-каменоделец бе оставил следа от своята собствена душа. Той знаеше, че папирусът ще изсъхне, а съдовете ще се счупят, но камъкът — камъкът ще надживее дори боговете, които го извънземват. Днес, под студената светлина на музейната витрина, тези две фигури продължават своя марш — не към смъртта, а към онази неумолима вечност, където всяка човешка суета най-накрая намира своя неподвижен номер.

Слънцето над Саккара не просто изгаряше пустинята; то разяждаше самото време, превръщайки вековете в златиста прах, която скърцаше между зъбите на малкото дръзнали да пристъпят в некропола. В хладната, полутъмна тишина на музея „Имхотеп“, зад стъклената преграда, лежеше фрагментът с номер SQ.CU.ST.208 — парче варовик, откъртено от плътта на гробничен параклис от епохата на Новото царство. То не беше просто камък. Беше анатомичен дисект на древния египетски дух.

Свещената материя и растителният символ

Насочил поглед към вечността, първият мъж пристъпваше с приведена глава — позиция не толкова на скръб, колкото на строго определен ритуален етикет. В ръцете му свежият букет от папирус бе замръзнал във варовика преди три хиляди години. Стеблата бяха изсечени с онази геометрична прецизност, в която един математик би видял божествена пропорция, а един романист — фанатичен триумф на човешкото длето над преходността.

• Папирусът: Символ на зеления праисторически хълм Бенбен, изплувал от първичния океан Нун. Той носеше обещанието за възкресение, сочната жизненост на Нил, пренесена в сухата прегръдка на пустинята.

• Фигурата: Дрехите му — фино надиплена ленена престилка — показваха майсторство на майстора-каменоделец, успял да придаде лекота на тежкия камък.

Канопите и анатомията на вечността

Непосредствено зад него, с отмерена крачка, следваше вторият носач. Мускулите на ръцете му бяха обтегнати под тежестта на два канопа. Тези съдове не съдържаха просто изсъхнали тъкани; те пазеха страстите, черния дроб, белите дробове и суетата на починалия благородник.

„Защото какво е човешкият живот, ако не кратка комбинация от органи, които накрая се разпределят в четири съда, за да бъдат съдени от боговете?“

Всеки каноп беше поверен на един от четирите сина на Хор, пазителите на вътрешностите. Каменоделецът бе уловили момент на строга дефилация: мъжът не пренасяше просто глинени съдове, а самата биологична памет на мъртвия, прочистена от смъртната развала чрез солите на натрона.

Социалната драма зад релефа

В този фрагмент няма случайни линии. Всяко вдлъбване на длетото разкрива сложната социална иерархия на 18-та или 19-та династия. Процесията е режисиран спектъкъл, където всеки участник изпълнява роля в грандиозния механизъм на преминаването:

• Майсторът: Анонимен скулптор от Аменхотеп или Рамзесовата епоха, работил при светлината на маслена лампа, за да сътвори изкуство, което никога не е било предназначено за очите на живите.

• Починалият: Собственикът на гробницата, чието име може да е изтрито, но чиято суета бе подсигурила вечен антураж от носачи.

Днес, изваден от мрака на Саккара и поставен под каталожния номер SQ.CU.ST.208, релефът е мълчалив свидетел. Мъжът с папируса и мъжът с канопите продължават своя марш — не към гроба, а към безкрайния съд на човешката история.

Слънцето над пустинята Саккара не просто осветяваше пясъците; то изгаряше самата плът на времето, превръщайки вековете в фина, златиста прах, която скърцаше между зъбите на дръзналите да пристъпят в некропола. В онази каменна тишина, скрита зад стъклото на музей „Имхотеп“ под студен каталожен номер SQ.CU.ST.208, почива един фрагмент от вечността — откъртена плът от гробничен параклис, вкаменена вяра от епохата на Осемнадесетата или Деветнадесетата династия.

Това не е просто релеф. Това е дисекция на древноегипетската душа, уловена в момента, когато светското битие предаде своите ключове на безкрая.

I. Първият носач: Растителният символ и космогонията на нилските тини

Насочил поглед строго напред, първият мъж пристъпва с приведена глава — позиция не толкова на пречупена скръб, колкото на строг, скован от хилядолетния канон ритуален етикет. В ръцете му свежият букет от папирус е замръзнал във варовика. Стеблата са изсечени с онази геометрична прецизност, в която един математик би видял божествена пропорция, а един романист — фанатичен триумф на длетото над преходността.

• Космогоничният съд: Папирусът в ръцете му не е просто украса. Той е ботаническият аналог на първичния хълм Бенбен, изплувал от мрачния океан Нун в зората на сътворението. Носейки го към гроба, мъжът пренася самото обещание за ново раждане — зелен и сочен контраст спрямо мъртвата сухота на пустинята.

• Анатомия на драперията: Надиплената му ленена престилка е изваяна с пплисета, които сякаш все още трептят от лекия полъх на пустинния вятър. Майсторът е придал на камъка илюзия за копринена лекота, скривайки суровия варовик под фината тъкан на светското благородство.

II. Вторият носач: Канопите и дисекцията на плътта

Точно зад него, на една крачка разстояние в това безкрайно дефиле на скърбящите, крачи вторият носач. Ръцете му са обтегнати под тежестта на два канопа — глинените и каменни съдове, превърнати в сейфове за най-уязвимата част от човешкото същество.

„Защото какво е човешкият живот, ако не кратка и трепетна комбинация от органи, които накрая биват разпределени в четири вази, за да очакват теглилката на Анубис?“

В тези съдове не почиват просто изсъхналиъ тъкани; там са затворени страстите, черният дроб, белите дробове, жлъчката и коварството на един мъртъв благородник. Чрез процеса на мумификация, биологичната анатомия е била прочистена с натрон и баластни масла, за да бъде поверена на пазителите — четирите сина на Хор:

Канопен съд	Пазител (Син на Хор)	Закрилящ орган	Символика
Имсети	Човешка глава	Черен дроб	Страстите и емоциите
Хапи	Глава на павиан	Бели дробове	Дъхът на живота и въздухът
Дуамутеф	Глава на чакал	Стомах	Смилането на земната суета
Кебехсенуеф	Глава на сокол	Черва	Траекторията на телесната плът

Носачът стиска тези съдове с почти религиозно сътресение. Той не пренася пепел; той държи в ръцете си физическата памет на починалия, почистена от разпад и подготвена за вечния съд пред Озирис.

III. Скритата драма на каменоделеца и вечният музей

В този фрагмент няма нито една случайна линия. Всяко вдлъбване на длетото разкрива драматичната иерархия на Новото царство (ок. 1550 – 1186 г. пр. Хр.) — епоха на невиждан разкош, белязана от царуването на Тутмос III, Аменхотеп III и Рамзес Велики.

• Анонимният майстор: Скулпторът, работил при едва мъждукащата светлина на маслена лампа в задушната гробница, е сътворил съвършенство, което никога не е било предназначено за очите на живите. Неговото изкуство е било адресирано единствено към боговете и сенките.

• Иронията на историята: Векове по-късно, покривът на параклиса се е срутил, стените са били разграбени, а името на самия починал благородник вероятно е изтрито от вятъра.

Останал е само този откъслек. Днес, под изкуственото осветление на витрината с номер SQ.CU.ST.208, мъжът с папируса и мъжът с канопите продължават своя мълчалив марш. Те вече не крачат към подземното царство Дуат, а към самата безкрайност на човешката памет, където всяка суета най-накрая намира своя неподвижен, вкаменен номер.

Bakenmut Papyrus: Book of the Dead of an Unnamed Scribe / Папирус Бакенмут: Книга на мъртвите на неназован писар

 ИЛИЯНА БЕНИНА   НИКОЛА БЕНИН

Bakenmut Papyrus: Book of the Dead of an Unnamed Scribe

New Kingdom, 19th Dynasty, c. 1292–1189 B.C.

From Thebes, Egypt. Purchased from Rev. Chauncey Murch, 1890

British Museum. EA 10478,1

This vividly painted fragment comes from a Book of the Dead scroll dating from 19th Dynasty. The scene depicts a male scribe, identified by his title “Scribe of the House of the King”, offering incense and homage to the enthroned god Osiris, who is flanked by Isis. Behind the scribe stands a female figure bearing ritual objects, possibly his wife.

The identity of the deceased remains uncertain. The original name was deliberately painted over in antiquity, a practice often undertaken when funerary papyri were reused or acquired by later individuals. The surviving name, Bakenmut, a feminine name meaning “Servant of Mut”, may belong to the woman depicted behind the male (likely his wife), or to a later owner who claimed the scroll.

This deliberate overwriting, though practical in intent, reflects the profound Ancient Egyptian conviction that to be named was to be granted eternal life. Even when appropriating the image or legacy of another, it was believed that inscribing one’s own name ensured survival in the afterlife. Such acts of usurpation were not limited to private individuals; even pharaohs, most notably Ramesses II, frequently re-carved their names over those of earlier kings on statues and monuments, asserting both spiritual and political dominion across time.

Папирус Бакенмут: Книга на мъртвите на неназован писар Ново царство, 19-та династия, ок. 1292–1189 г. пр.н.е. От Тива, Египет. Закупен от преподобния Чонси Мърч, 1890 г. Британски музей. EA 10478,1 ▫ Този ярко изрисуван фрагмент произлиза от свитък от Книгата на мъртвите, датиращ от 19-та династия. Сцената изобразява мъжки писар, идентифициран с титлата си „Писар на дома на царя“, който предлага тамян и почит на трона на бога Озирис, който е обграден от Изида. Зад писаря стои женска фигура, носеща ритуални предмети, вероятно съпругата му. Самоличността на починалия остава неясна. Първоначалното име е било умишлено замазано с боя в древността, практика, често прилагана, когато погребални папируси са били използвани повторно или придобивани от по-късни хора. Запазеното име, Бакенмут, женско име, което означава „Слуга на Мут“, може да принадлежи на жената, изобразена зад мъжа (вероятно неговата съпруга), или на по-късен собственик, който е заявил правото си върху свитъка. Това умишлено презаписване, макар и с практично намерение, отразява дълбокото убеждение на древните египтяни, че да бъдеш кръстен означава да ти бъде дарен вечен живот. Дори когато човек си присвоява образа или наследството на друг, се е смятало, че изписването на собственото име гарантира оцеляване в отвъдния живот. Подобни актове на узурпация не са били ограничени само до частни лица; дори фараоните, най-вече Рамзес II, често са преиздавали имената си върху тези на по-ранни царе върху статуи и паметници, утвърждавайки както духовно, така и политическо господство във времето.

ПРОЛОГ: СЛОВОТО И ПАЛИНПСЕСТЪТ

В Египет нищо не умира напълно, освен онова, чието име е заличено.

Тънката четка от папирусово стъбло се колебаеше над още влажния пергамент. Денят над Тива пригасяше своите златни оттенъци, превръщайки Нил в разтопено олово. В сенките на Дома на царя, където мирисът на прясно мастило се смесваше с дима от лоените свещи, един писар извършваше престъпление срещу вечността. Или може би не престъпление, а просто акт на оцеляване.

Свитъкът бе от най-фин, светъл папирус — изтъкан от сърцевината на делтата, гладък като слонова кост. Върху него, изписани с наситен лапис лазули, египетско червено и въглен, стоеха боговете. Озирис — зеленолик, обвит в мумификационни повиви, седеше на своя трон на съдбата, а зад него крилата си разпростираше Изида. Пред тях стоеше мъжка фигура с грациозно извити ръце, подаваща кадилница към Владетеля на отвъдното.

Но в малкото правоъгълно поле, очертано за името на починалия, черният пигмент бе все още мокър. Четката бе минала върху старите йероглифи, заличавайки ги с плътен, тъмен слой.

Името на първия писар — онзи, за когото бе изрисуван този папирус — изчезваше завинаги.

ЧАСТ I: СЕНКАТА НА ОЗИРИС

Папирусът бе изработен по времето на великите строежи в Тива, когато царството на XIX династия бе на върха на своята мощ. Първият му притежател бе благородник: „Писар на дома на царя“. Той бе платил тридесет сребърни дебена за този свитък — състояние, с което един селянин можеше да купи десет вола. Всяка магия, всеки хич и всяко заклинание в него бяха подбрани така, че да го преведат невредим през дванадесетте порти на подземния свят Дуат.

Но смъртта е лош търговец, а времето — още по-лош наемник.

Когато чумата премина през източния квартал на Тива, семейството на първия писар бе заличено за една пълна луна. Гробницата остана отворена, незапечатана, а свитъкът, предназначен за пътуването му към полетата Иару, така и не бе поставен до саркофага. Той остана в сандъците на писарската работилница — сираче от папирус, чакащо нов стопанин.

— Името е душата, Бакенмут — тихо каза старият майстор на свитъци, докато държеше лампеното масло до стената. — Без име ти си само сянка в мрака. Но ако името ти е написано тук, пред лицето на Озирис, дори демоните на портала няма да смеят да те спрат.

Бакенмут — жената, чието име носеше значенето „Слуга на Мут“ — стоеше в сянката зад мъжа си. Тя бе облечена в прозрачна ленена рокля, каквито носеха благородните жени при жертвоприношения. В ръцете си стискаше ритуални предмети: систрум, чийто бронзов звук прогонваше злите духове, и съд с чисто масло от лилия.

Тя погледна към замазаната зона върху свитъка. Под черната боя все още личаха едва забележими контури на древните знаци — сякаш духът на предишния собственик се съпротивляваше на своето заличено битие.

— Не е ли грях да вземеш чуждата молитва? — попита тя с пресъхнало гърло.

Старият писар се изсмя тихо. Смехът му бе като шумолене на изсъхнали папирусови листове.

— Грях? Погледни напред, женище! Отиди в Карнак. Погледни колонадата на Великия Рамзес. Той изтри имената на баща си Сети и на прадедите си от дузина статуи, за да издълбае своя собствен картуш върху техните гърди! Ако самият фараон узурпира камъка, за да бъде вечен, защо един слуга на Мут да не узурпира папируса? Боговете не четат историята. Те четат само това, което е написано в момента на съда.

ЧАСТ II: ПАЛИТРАТА НА ВЕЧНОСТТА

Бакенмут се приближи до масата. Върху нея бяха подредени минералите на Египет:

• Стрит азурит — за небесната мантия на Изида;

• Малахитов прах — за кожата на Озирис, символ на новото покълване;

• Охра от пустинните скали — за плътта на мъжа, отправящ тамян;

• Сажди от храмовите кадилници — за името. За пренаписването.

Писарят потопи четката в черното мастило. С един плавен, научен от десетилетия жест, той започна да изписва йероглифите на нейното име върху изсъхналата черна боя.

       𓅓 (М)     𓏏 (Т)    𓅆 (Мут - Богинята Майка)
        |          |          |
   +----+----------+----------+----+
   |  С Л У Г А   Н А   М У Т  | ->  Б А К Е Н М У Т
   +-------------------------------+

Докато йероглифите се появяваха един след друг, Бакенмут почувства особена хладина по кожата си. В съзнанието ѝ се появи образът на мъжа, изобразен на папируса — онзи царски писар с изправена стойка, който държеше кадилницата с формата на ръката на Хор. Сега той вече не бе непознат мъртвец от миналото. Той бе нейният съпруг, нейният спътник в отвъдното, а тя — фигурата, която стоеше плътно зад него, носеща вечните дарове.

Свитъкът бе превъплътен. Текстът бе узурпиран, но магическото му предназначение бе възобновено.

ЧАСТ III: ПЪТУВАНЕТО КЪМ СВЕТЛИНАТА

Векове по-късно, когато пирамидите вече щяха да са изгубили своята гладка обвивка, а храмовете на Тива щяха да потънат в пясъците, този свитък щеше да бъде открит в сухото чакълесто гробно поле на Западна Тива.

Под микроскопите на бъдещите изследователи, тъмният пигмент в правоъгълното поле за името щеше да разкрие своята тайна: слоевете боя, положени един върху друг. Единият — заличаващ миналото; другият — даващ нов живот.

Бакенмут бе постигнала своето. Тя бе придобила свитъка, бе заявила правото си върху молитвите и бе влязла в царството на Озирис под закрилата на Изида.

Защото в Египет истината не бе това, което е било, а онова, което остава изписано върху папируса. И докато името Бакенмут можеше да бъде прочетено, слугинята на богинята Мут продължаваше да принася своето масло от лилия пред трона на вечността.

ЧАСТ IV: ОНТОЛОГИЯ НА ПАЛИНПСЕСТА И ФИЛОСОФИЯ НА УЗУРПАЦИЯТА

(Вдъхновено от структурата на Умберто Еко, психологическата дисекция на Стендал и социално-икономическата епичност на Балзак)

I. Семиотичният триъгълник на папирус EA 10478,1

Всеки документ от епохата на XIX династия е трислоен механизъм. Той съдържа текст, изображение (виниетка) и материална история. Когато разглеждаме свитъка Бакенмут, ние не просто четем книга за мъртвите; ние четем палимпсест — пространствен и времеви възел, в който са се сблъскали три отделни човешки воли.

                  [ СЕМИОТИЧНА СТРУКТУРА НА СВИТЪКА EA 10478,1 ]
                                         |
       +---------------------------------+---------------------------------+
       |                                 |                                 |
[ ПЪРВОНАЧАЛЕН АВТОР ]         [ МАТЕРИАЛЕН ЗАЛИЧАТЕЛ ]            [ КРАЕН СОБСТВЕНИК ]
• Неизвестен царски писар     • Слой от черна/тъмна боя           • Бакенмут („Слуга на Мут“)
• Купил свитъка при преживе    • Умишлена онтологична смърт       • Тебански жрец / жрица
• Първично сакрализиран        • Изтриване на първичната Ка       • Нова легитимация пред Дуат

Папирусният фрагмент представя сложна семиотична игра:

1. Изображението (Иконичен знак): Изписва мъжки писар — носещ гръмката титла „Писар на дома на царя“ (Sš n pr-nsw) — изправен пред трона на Озирис, зад когото крилата си разпростира Изида. Зад писаря стои жена с ритуални предмети. Изображението е останало непокътнато. Визията за мъж и жена, принасящи тамян, е съвършена и не се нуждае от прерисуване.

2. Текстът (Символен знак): Калиграфски издържаното писмо съдържа заклинания за преминаване през отвъдното.

3. Заличаването (Индексален знак): Тъмното багрило, положено върху пространството за името, е най-драматичната част. В древноегипетската концепция за съществуването, човек се състои от Рен (Име), Ка (Двойник/Душа), Ба (Проявление), Ах (Светлинно тяло) и Шеут (Сянка). Да замажеш Рен означава да умъртвиш първоначалния притежател за втори път.

II. Драматургия на придобиването: Сделката в Долапа на Тива

(В стила на Оноре дьо Балзак)

За да разберем как един папирус с такова качество променя собственика си, трябва да надникнем в икономическия механизъм на XIX династия. По това време в Западна Тива — в селището на майсторите Деир ел-Медина и около храмовите комплекси на Мединет Абу — съществува процъфтяващ черен пазар за погребални стоки.

Годината е приблизително 1230 г. пр.н.е. Наводнението на Нил е било слабо, пшеницата е поскъпнала трикратно, а разходите за погребение на един висш чиновник са невъобразими.

Скриван в продължение на години в сандъци от сикоморово дърво, свитъкът с първоначалната виниетка лежи непотребен. Неговият поръчител — онзи първичен Писар на дома на царя — е изпаднал в немилост или е починал внезапно по време на инспекция в Нубия, без роднините му да платят остатъка от сребърните дебени на некрополните калиграфи.

В работилницата на Тебанския некропол влезе Бакенмут. В обществената хиерархия на Тива името Бакенмут — „Слуга на богинята Мут“ — се носи от просветени мъже от жреческата каста на Амон и Мут в Карнак.

Очите на Бакенмут бързо преценяват качеството на папируса. Багрилата са великолепни:

• Червената охра е внесена от Асуан.

• Синята фрита (Египетско синьо) върху роклята на Изида е разстроена до идеален микрон.

• Черният туш е от най-фините сажди на храмовите кадилници.

— Свитъкът е прекрасен — казва той с хладен, пресметлив тон, присъщ на човек, свикнал да управлява храмови имоти. — Но той не е мой. Името върху него принадлежи на мъртвец, чиито деца вече няма да платят и един хамбар ечемик.

— Един замах с четката, господарю — отговаря майсторът-писар, чиито пръсти са вечно пожълтели от сок на папирус и аурипигмент. — Един замах с плътно черно мастило и името му спира да съществува. Озирис не гледа папируса с очите на съдия по имотите. Озирис чета онова име, което е написано върху боядисаното. Всичко останало — титлата „Писар на дома на царя“, молитвените фигури, благословията на Изида — става твое.

Бакенмут извади от гънките на ленения си пояс тежка торба с медни пръстени (утен). Това не бе просто покупка на пергамент; това бе инвестиция в метафизична сигурност.

III. Психология на узурпацията: Фараонът и Скрибата

(В стила на Стендал)

Има нещо дълбоко стендаловско в амбицията да припознаеш чуждия паметник като свой собствен. За човека от древния свят узурпацията не е акт на вандализъм, а активно право на по-силния духовен субект.

В същата тази 19-та династия великият Рамзес II превръща това изкуство в държавна политика. Влизайки в Луксор или Карнак, той вижда величествените гранитни колони и колиси на Аменхотеп III или Сенусрет III. Какво прави Той? Той не ги разрушава. Той просто нарежда на каменоделците да издълбаят по-дълбоко неговите собствени картуши (Усермаатра Сетепенра) върху старите имена.

Защо? Защото в съзнанието на Рамзес, както и в съзнанието на Бакенмут, енергията на паметника остава същата, но векторът на нейното действие се пренасочва.

                ПРИНЦИП НА ОНТОЛОГИЧНАТА УЗУРПАЦИЯ
 
 [ ВАРИАНТ А: Фараонски мащаб ]
 Рамзес II  --->  Заличава картуш на Аменхотеп III  --->  Присвоява статуята
 
 [ ВАРИАНТ Б: Частен/Жречески мащаб (Папирус EA 10478,1) ]
 Бакенмут   --->  Замазва името на царския писар     --->  Присвоява свитъка

Бакенмут гледаше как калиграфът потапя четката в тъмния пигмент. С няколко решителни движения първоначалното име — името на мъжа, когото папирусът бе изобразявал в продължение на години — бе скрито под тънък, но непроницаем слой боя.

„Сега той е никой,“ мислеше си Бакенмут. „Сянка без име. Аз му давам моето име, а той ми дава своята форма. Пред Озирис аз ще бъда онзи, който стои с издигната кадилница. Моята съпруга ще стои зад мен с онези ритуални предмети. Ние купуваме не просто хартия; ние купуваме чуждата вечност и я превръщаме в наша.“

В този момент нямаше вина. Имаше само горделивото усещане за надмощие над времето.

IV. Археология на пренаписването: От Тива до Лондон

(В стила на Умберто Еко)

Историята на свитъка EA 10478,1 не спира в моментa, в който Бакенмут е положен в своята гробница край Фиванските хълмове. Тя продължава през вековете като криминален роман на текстологията.

През 1890 г. преподобният Чонси Мърч — американски мисионер и страстен събирач на антики — купува този папирус в Луксор. По това време никой не подозира какво се крие под слоя замазване. За колекционерите от XIX век това е просто „ярко изрисувана Книга на мъртвите“.

Но под лупите и съвременните спектрални анализи на Британския музей тайната излиза наяве:

====================================================================================
 РЕКОНСТРУКЦИЯ НА ТЕКСТОВИЯ СЛОЙ НА ПАПИРУС EA 10478,1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 СЛОЙ 1 (Оригинален):  Йероглифи на неидентифицирания „Писар на дома на царя“.
 СЛОЙ 2 (Сепиен/Черен): Слоят боя, нанесен умишлено в древността за замазване.
 СЛОЙ 3 (Нов повторен): Име „Бакенмут“ (Servant of Mut) – нанесен отгоре.
====================================================================================

Филолозите откриват, че името Бакенмут е напълно типично за тебанското жречество от късната 19-та и 20-та династия. Но въпросът остава отворен и до днес:

• Дали Бакенмут е самият мъж, който е платил за замазването и е пренаписал името си отгоре?

• Или Бакенмут е била съпругата, изобразена зад него, която след смъртта на мъжа си е преиздала целия свитък на свое име, за да си осигури самостоятелен път през Дуат?

Този замазан слой боя е най-честният паметник на древноегипетската вяра. Той показва, че вечността не е даденост, а битка. Тя е борба за мастило, борба за камък, борба за това чие име ще остане прочетено, когато слънчевият диск на Ра залезе зад Либийските планини.

ЕПИЛОГ: ГЛАСЪТ НА ПАЛИМПСЕСТА

Днес, под стъклената витрина в Лондон, папирусът EA 10478,1 мълчи на няколко езика едновременно.

Зеленоликият Озирис все така приема молитвата. Изида все така разпростира крилата си, пазейки трона. Титлата „Писар на дома на царя“ все така напомня за високия ранг на първоначалния поръчител.

Но в малката рамка на името, там където боята е малко по-плътна и по-тъмна, Бакенмут продължава своя вечен диалог с безименния сянка-предшественик. Един от тях е дарил формата, другият е дал името. И в този синтез на узурпация и вяра, Книгата на мъртвите постига своята крайна цел: да направи така, че смъртта никога да няма последната дума.