A Sufi Imam at Chabad House

Readers of Russian literature may be familiar with Tolstoy’s *Hadji Murat*. The novella masterfully portrays one of the leaders of the Caucasian resistance against the expanding Tsarist Empire. This imperial push into the Caucasus sparked a religious fervor that culminated in the establishment of the Caucasian Imamate—a short-lived political entity led, as its name suggests, by Imams with deep ties to Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam.

The 19th-century Caucasian Sufi movement was built on the foundation of Muridism. The term *Murid* (مُرِيد) is best translated as "disciple" or "follower." A Murid was the student of a *Murshid* (مُرْشِد), the spiritual guide who led him along the Sufi path toward the Truth. While many of the dozens of Sufi orders espouse tolerant values—and are occasionally persecuted by Muslim orthodoxy for it—the context here was quite different.

A dancing Sufi.

In the West, the most famous order is likely the Mevlevi of Konya, Turkey. Founded by the renowned Persian poet Rumi, they are known for their whirling dervishes. But in the Caucasus of the mid-1800s, we aren't talking about peaceful dancers; these were dervishes armed to the teeth, determined to expel the Russian Empire from their rugged, fertile soil. Our acquaintance Hadji Murat was the Murid of the third leader in this line of Imams: Shamil.

A crushing Sufi. Imam Shamil. Source: russiasperiphery.blogs.wm.edu

Imam Shamil, a native of Dagestan, waged a relentless guerrilla war against Tsarist forces in what became known as the "Caucasian War." It was a brutal conflict that claimed countless lives on both sides—though, it should be noted, the Russians started it.

Finally, in the summer of 1859, Shamil was captured and taken to Moscow. In 1869, he was eventually permitted to go into exile in the holy city of Mecca, where he spent his final days. The North Caucasus had been conquered.

So, what does this have to do with Chabad? Among Chabad Hasidim, there is a famous melody (*niggun*) attributed to Shamil. Legend has it he composed it while languishing in a Russian prison, where it was overheard by a Jew who recognized it as a profound expression of the soul’s longing for its true home.

Here is the story as it is told in Hasidic tradition:

Eventually, the Russians devised a scheme: they made peace with the tribes and promised their chief—Shamil—various concessions. But once the tribes were disarmed, the Russians captured Shamil and exiled him deep into the Russian interior.

In exile, he would often reminisce about the high mountains where he was once as free as an eagle, unburdened by prison walls, the confines of a town, or the shackles of civilization. Stirred by a deep, soulful longing for those peaks, he would play this melody—a song that begins with yearning and ends with hope.

When a Jew heard this melody, he translated it into his own spiritual "alphabet," applying it to the soul’s descent into the physical body:

Before descending into the body, the soul was hewn from beneath the Throne of Glory—and even that is considered a descent, for the soul’s essence is rooted even higher, in the Almighty Himself. The source from which it was hewn is the "high mountains"—the Patriarchs, the Sefirot of *Chesed*, *Gevurah*, and *Tiferet* of the world of *Atzilut*, reaching back to the divine attributes that preceded the *Tzimtzum* (the primordial contraction). In that state, the soul was entirely free, subject to no earthly ruler.

*Torat Menachem: Address of Simchat Torah, 5719 (1958). > 171*

Despite scouring the web, I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly how the connection between the captive Imam and the Hasidic *niggun* was first forged, or identify its primary historical source.

Shamil's Niggun: