The Limits of Rationalism
“To translate man back into nature, to become master over the many vain and overly enthusiastic interpretations and connotations that have so far been scrawled and painted over that eternal basic text of homo natura; to see to it that the human being henceforth stands before human beings as even today, hardened in the discipline of science, he stands before the rest of nature, with intrepid Oedipus eyes and sealed Odysseus ears, deaf to the siren songs of old metaphysical bird catchers who have been piping at him all too long, ‘you are more, you are higher, you are of a different origin’—that may be a strange and insane task, but it is a task—who would deny that?”
—Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil (Jenseits von Gut und Böse) 1886.
Nietzsche’s challenge to metaphysics is one of radical disenchantment. He demands that we strip away every illusion of transcendence, every idealistic projection, and see the world as it is—unadorned, unmediated, and wholly material. Truth, in this framework, is the province of rational inquiry and scientific discipline, not spiritual revelation or mystical insight. The metaphysical bird-catchers he scorns are those who offer transcendent narratives, whispering to humanity that it is more than mere matter and motion. To Nietzsche, Oedipus’ eyes represent uncompromising vision—the courage to see without the comforting veil of faith. Odysseus’ ears, sealed against the Sirens, symbolize the refusal to be seduced by metaphysical consolations. He urges us to perceive reality with pure intellect, untainted by mystical longing. Yet, from a Sufi perspective, this is not an act of enlightenment—it is an act of veiling (hijab). It is not a triumph of intellect but a failure of perception. The Sufi would argue that Nietzsche’s demand to “translate man back into nature” is not merely mistaken but misguided, not because it denies divine reality outright, but because it presupposes that illumination itself is a deception—when, in truth, it is the highest order of reality.
Nietzsche’s Error: The Mind as a Barrier to the Heart
Nietzsche dismisses metaphysics as an invention of humankind’s imagination, a net spun by priests and philosophers to catch our thoughts. But as Sufi teachings make clear, the mind cannot grasp reality alone. The Qur’an declares:
لَقَدْ خَلَقْنَا ٱلْإِنسَـٰنَ فِىٓ أَحْسَنِ تَقْوِيمٍۢ
“Verily, We created man in the best of stature.” (Qur’an 95:4)
This is no mere poet, but ontology: man is not simply a part such as another of nature, but nature’s secret, its custodian, its divine reflection. Material vision can capture the visible world; but only an unveiled heart can comprehend the unseen (ghayb). If only reason alone sufficed, then there would have been no need for revelation. Nietzsche, however, demands Oedipus’ sight — a purely rational way of seeing, one that denies the existence of the invisible. But in a twist of irony that Nietzsche himself would appreciate, Oedipus’ journey to the truth ends in myopia. ¹ِ Likewise, the deaf ears of Odysseus, who closes them before the Sirens, become a synecdoche for Nietzschean deafness to divine truth. What Nietzsche perceives as resistance to illusion the Sufi identifies as self-inflicted ignorance.
The “eyes of Oedipus” represent the phantasy of complete knowledge—the fallacious assumption that reason can explain all when in fact it is precisely the certainty of material knowledge that prevents us from seeing higher truths. “Odysseus’ ears” signify the rejection of divine wisdom — for to deny revelation as illusion is to inhibit the very calling to truth. Sufism, in contrast, instructs that genuine vision is not with the eyes, but the heart (basira); genuine hearing is not with the ears, but divine remembrance (dhikr). Where unchecked reason darkens perception, reason tamed by divine light illuminates truth. ²
The Illusion of Strength: Rebellion vs. Submission
Nietzsche exalts rebellion—casting off divine significance as an act of intellectual defiance. He regards submission to transcendence as weakness, while elevating power as the ultimate measure of truth. Yet Sufism sees the opposite duty—not a descent into instinct, but an ascent into divine awareness. Where Nietzsche rebels, the Sufi surrenders. But true submission (Islam) is not weakness—it is strength. For the greatest warrior is not the one who conquers the world, but the one who conquers himself (nafs al-ammara).³ As the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said:
“We have returned from the lesser jihad to the greater jihad—the battle against the self.”⁴
Nietzsche calls for man to stand alone, but the Sufi knows that man is never alone—for the Divine Presence (hudhur) is ever near.⁵
The Prison of Pure Reason
To Nietzsche, faith is a shackle, but to Sufism, reason — once dislocated from divine light — is the actual jail. He wails: “Escape the metaphysical illusion!” But what sort of freedom is this? If reason were sufficient, then why does it not provide meaning? Why does the intellect, despite its many inquiries, remain restless, never at rest? Sufism teaches that non-transcendence is not liberation, but the recognition of divine reality. Man does not exist for purposelessness—he exists as ascent (mi ‘raj), where each step is an unveiling (tajalli).
So the Sufi offers Nietzsche this challenge:
“Come, thou imprisoning-fetters
Are a thin afternoon, the bars obscure wider truths.
Imagine you loosen your grip on ‘nature alone’
— an open heart reveals subtler realities.” ⁶
Not to abandon reason, but to control it, to make it, not the master, but sacrificial lamb of a higher wisdom. Where Nietzsche only see man, Sufi see the Divine in all. Intellect limits the extent of reality. Love sets its possibilities. And when reason fails, love alone finds the path forward. The mystic doesn’t argue ad infinitum — he steps into the silence where answers are known. “Be still,” says the Sufi, “and listen.” For the world, where Nietzsche shows a veil, the Sufi sees a door. And beyond that door, the Infinite.
Footnotes & Citations
¹ Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1966), §34.
² Ibn Arabi, Fusus al-Hikam, trans. R.W.J. Austin (Lahore: Suhail Academy, 1980), 72.
³ Al-Ghazali, The Alchemy of Happiness, trans. Claud Field (London: Maktaba al-Falah, 2003), 104.
⁴ Sahih al-Bukhari, 2810.
⁵ Rumi, Masnavi, trans. Jawid Mojaddedi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 143.
⁶ Inspired by themes in Rumi’s Masnavi and Ibn Arabi’s Fusus al-Hikam*.