I won’t be there this week. Which means the session happens without me, and I want it to happen — not as a gap in the course but as something you do together that we then bring into the room when we’re back.
Here is what I’ve been thinking about, and what I want you to think about too.
We have been reading a book that is saturated with the vocabulary of light and vision. Nur — divine light. Hidaya — guidance, which is always described as light. The beatific vision — ru’yat allah — promised as the highest reward of paradise. The qalb, the heart, which replaces the physical eye because the physical eye cannot see god. Kashf — mystical unveiling. Ishraq — illumination, the dawning light of divine knowledge. Kufr — disbelief, whose arabic root means to cover, to conceal, to make dark. Islamic theology reaches for light and sight almost compulsively when it needs to describe the sacred. So does christian theology. So does buddhist. So does hindu. The halo appears around every sacred figure in every tradition that makes images of the sacred. Enlightenment is a light-word in every language that has the concept.
And yet.
I want you to think about what the body is actually doing in the practices we have been reading about. Salat: the eyes are cast downward toward the place of prostration. During prostration itself, they look at the nose. The gaze during prayer is regulated, directed at the floor — not at anything sacred, not at the source of light the theology is always reaching toward. Dhikr: rhythmic collective repetition, often with eyes closed or unfocused. The goal is wajd — a state of ecstatic finding — and the visual field is typically reduced or eliminated to get there. Quran recitation: the quran is primarily a sonic text. It was revealed as sound, transmitted as sound, memorised as sound. The written quran is but a record of a recitation, not the primary form. Fasting: the systematic withdrawal of taste for an entire month. Hajj: the body walking, running, pressing through crowds, touching stone, drinking water. The call to prayer: heard before anything is seen.
Something is going on there. The theology and the vocabulary say sight. The body does something else.
Before we next meet, I want you to do three things.
First. Take the list I just gave you — of practices where the body is not primarily seeing — and try to add to it from the book. Where else in Stjernholm’s account is the body doing something non-visual that the language around it reaches for visual metaphor anyway? Try to think of other spiritual practices beyond islam as well.
Second. Here is a verse. Read it in at least two of these translations.
Arabic: اَللّٰهُ نُوْرُ السَّمٰوٰتِ وَالْاَرْضِ ۗ مَثَلُ نُوْرِهٖ كَمِشْكٰوةٍ فِيْهَا مِصْبَاحٌ ۗ اَلْمِصْبَاحُ فِيْ زُجَاجَةٍ ۗ اَلزُّجَاجَةُ كَاَنَّهَا كَوْكَبٌ دُرِّيٌّ يُّوْقَدُ مِنْ شَجَرَةٍ مُّبٰرَكَةٍ زَيْتُوْنَةٍ لَّا شَرْقِيَّةٍ وَّلَا غَرْبِيَّةٍ يَّكَادُ زَيْتُهَا يُضِيْۤءُ وَلَوْ لَمْ تَمْسَسْهُ نَارٌ ۗ نُوْرٌ عَلٰى نُوْرٍ
Arberry (1955): God is the Light of the heavens and the earth; the likeness of His Light is as a niche wherein is a lamp — the lamp in a glass, the glass as it were a glittering star — kindled from a Blessed Tree, an olive that is neither of the East nor of the West whose oil wellnigh would shine, even if no fire touched it; Light upon Light.
Asad (1980): God is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The parable of His light is, as it were, that of a niche containing a lamp; the lamp is enclosed in glass, the glass shining like a radiant star: a lamp lit from a blessed tree — an olive-tree that is neither of the east nor of the west — the oil whereof would well-nigh give light of itself even though fire had not touched it: light upon light.
Paret (1962): Gott ist das Licht der Himmel und der Erde. Sein Licht ist — man kann es vergleichen — wie eine Nische, in der sich eine Lampe befindet. Die Lampe ist in einem Glas. Das Glas ist, als wäre es ein funkelnder Stern. Sie wird angezündet von einem gesegneten Baum, einem Ölbaum, der weder östlich noch westlich ist. Sein Öl würde von selbst leuchten, auch wenn kein Feuer es berührt hätte. Licht über Licht.
Bobzin (2010): Gott ist das Licht der Himmel und der Erde. Das Gleichnis seines Lichtes ist das einer Nische, in der eine Lampe ist. Die Lampe ist in einem Glas. Das Glas ist gleichsam ein strahlender Stern. Sie wird angezündet von einem gesegneten Baum, einem Ölbaum, weder östlich noch westlich. Sein Öl würde fast leuchten, auch wenn kein Feuer es berührte. Licht auf Licht.
Notice what changes across the translations. Arberry says “the likeness of His Light.” Asad says “the parable.” Paret adds “man kann es vergleichen” — one can compare it — a hedge that is not in the Arabic at all. Bobzin uses “Gleichnis” — parable, allegory, narrative distance. The arabic says god IS light, directly, without qualification. Then it immediately builds a comparison. The translators pull back from the directness in different ways.
The question I want you to sit with: the verse identifies god directly as light, then immediately constructs an elaborate visual apparatus to approach that identification — niche, lamp, glass, oil, tree, fire. The oil burns without fire. The tree is neither east nor west. These are impossible objects. Why does the verse build its comparison from things that cannot exist?
Third. Pay attention this week to how often sight and light appear in ordinary speech — not religious contexts, just everyday conversation — when someone means they understand something, or don’t. Write down five or six phrases you actually hear or use. Don’t go looking for them. Just notice.
Bring your thoughts on all three to the next session. We will start there before we move on to touch.
One question to carry with you: when you say something like “I see what you mean” — are you seeing anything?
Nur der Text ist unter der Lizenz Creative Commons Namensnennung 4.0 International nutzbar. Alle anderen Elemente (Abbildungen, importierte Anhänge) sind „Alle Rechte vorbehalten“, sofern nicht anders angegeben.
OpenEdition schlägt Ihnen vor, diesen Beitrag wie folgt zu zitieren:
Victoria Mummelthei (26. Mai 2026). sensing: sight — a task for before we next meet. Keine Disziplin – No Discipline. Abgerufen am 12. Juni 2026 von https://doi.org/10.58079/169ue

