#16 in a series on the life of William Borden, the millionaire missionary who died en route to China's Gansu Province, adapted from his biography (BordenofYale.com, January 1, 2024).
In a letter dated February 17, 1913, Borden briefly “explained what a zikr is”:
. . . a repetition of the Muslim creed by Dervishes, until they are exhausted. Tomorrow is the Prophet’s birthday, so we expect to see plenty of them, as they go on all night.
And again on February 20, 1913, he goes into more fascinating detail:
I mentioned in a recent letter that we were going to see some zikrs at the celebration of the Prophet’s birthday. This we did on Monday night, and it certainly was interesting, though I fear I shall not be able to describe it at all adequately.
A large piece of level ground had been taken and tents erected in a great square, an entrance being left at one side. Each of the tents was assigned to a Dervish order, or some department of the Government. The tents themselves were very attractive, made of Oriental tapestries in rich red hues, and lighted with glass chandeliers, each of which had a dozen or more big candles. The effect was very brilliant. The floor in the center of each tent was occupied by the Dervishes, who stood or sat in a circle, or if there were many of them in two long rows facing one another.
They all repeat more or less the same things—the name of Allah, the Muslim Creed, the opening sura of the Koran, or the ninety-nine beautiful names of God—but the accompanying motions differ. Some sit and move their heads, first to one side, then to the other and down on the chest, swaying their bodies at the same time, back and forth. Others stand, bending from the waist in rhythmic motions. This was what the Merganiyeh Order were doing as they repeated:
“La illaha il Allah,
Muhammed rasul Allah.”
At first they would bend slowly, then gradually increase the pace till they were all going full speed, the leader keeping time by clapping his hands or coming in with a solo refrain in the marvelous way of intoning these fellows have. One could not watch them without feeling the grip of the thing, although knowing it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to induce a state of ecstasy or auto-hypnosis. . .
One man Mr. Swan pointed out to us is known as “the Protestant Dervish.” He preached repentance from sin, very much like a Protestant minister, though, of course, without any mention of Christ as the atonement and the One who delivers from the power of sin.
He had quite an audience, which he managed much as an evangelist would at home—getting responses from them and letting them ask questions, first of all telling them good stories to get them in a favorable mood. Dr. Zwemer calls him “The Billy Sunday of Islam!”
The next night, Tuesday, was the climax of the celebrations. . . . The Dervishes all paraded through the city, chanting and dancing, each Order making a company with its Sheikh riding on horseback. I followed them a long way, and saw them as they came into the grounds at Abbasiyeh. . .
In the evening there was an immense crowd, chiefly to see the fireworks—“an invention of the evil one” that Mohammed certainly never supposed would come to be connected with his birthday. The crowds hurrying through the streets, the brilliant lights and all the excitement, reminded me very much of the festival of Juggernaut in Madras (India).
In yet another letter, dated March 1, 1913, Borden continued sharing his “zikr hunting” adventures:
Thursday night we had an interesting trip with Mr. Swan into the back streets of Cairo. The zikr we were going to see had been changed, we found, to another night, but just before reaching the place we came into a cemetery and heard the chanting of another zikr coming from a little old house off to one side. The star-lit night, the graves and their surroundings, all made a wonderful setting for the weird intonation we could hear so distinctly, even at a distance.
Mr. Swan talked with the men at the place we went to, telling them of Him who is the Way. The same Arabic word is used in the Bible for “way” as these Dervishes apply to themselves, in the sense of sect or order. It was really quite remarkable how they listened and seemed to take it all in.
It was a time of a good deal of excitement in the city, on account of the Prophet’s birthday and subsequent festivities. The Dervish dances were in full swing, attracting great crowds day and night. For Cairo, as Borden was learning, was a center of the secret organization known as the Dervishes, with its thirty-two mystic orders, “the very warp and woof of the Muslim religion.”
It was not only as a student, however, but also as a missionary that Borden went “zikr-hunting” as he called it. His companion was often a young German missionary named Straub, who was with him at the Study Center.
The following letter has an interest all its own, describing as it does the last night of Borden’s active service:
His zeal made me ashamed of myself. He always had his pockets full of khutbas, and lost no opportunity of distributing them. . . .
He was greatly interested in getting acquainted with the national life and the doings of the Dervishes. For this purpose we went to Islamic festivals where zikrs were taking place, each wearing a red fez so as not to attract attention.
The last time we went together was on Thursday in Passion Week (March 20). It was the anniversary of the saint Abul Ela in Bulak. . . .
What crowds of people were there to be seen – people of all classes and ages, men and women, people who were well and people who were sick! As these occasions partake of the character of national holidays, all sorts of amusements were going on. The illumination was truly fairylike.
As our chief interest was in the various zikrs, we were drawn to one tent from which the sound of chanting reached us – “Allah, Allah!”
For a long time we stood, side by side, watching the strange motions of the men who were swinging forward and backward in strict rhythm, shouting their “Allah, Allah.” The tempo of these motions grew quicker and quicker; “Allah, Allah” sounded hoarser and hoarser, until finally nothing but heavy breathing could be heard. Several of the Dervishes fell unconscious to the ground.
We noticed one man close beside us worked up to the highest pitch, and saw foam gushing from his mouth. We, too, felt the excitement, and were full of pity for these poor, deluded people, whose way of worship was so unworthy. . .
About midnight we started, arm in arm, for home, and had scarcely seated ourselves in the trolley when Mr. Borden took his remaining khutbas and handed them to those nearest to him.