Chanting Ṣalawāt as a Form of Self-Cultivation

Abstract

This article offers a descriptive analysis of a specific form (uṣūl) of prophetic eulogy (ṣalawāt) as vocally performed within Sufi orders such as the Rifāʿiyya, Qādiriyya, and Jarrahiyya of today’s Türkiye. It combines a music–theoretical and music–sociological as well as ritual–theoretical perspective to examine how the structured performance of these chants functions both as a spiritual practice and as a means of social formation. Drawing on this dual perspective, the article analyses the underlying musical structures and elements of the ṣalawāt chant, such as melody, rhythm, harmony, modal frameworks, and dynamics. By examining how these formal aspects shape the aesthetic experience, emotional resonance, and theological significance of the eulogy, the study aims to highlight its performative and affective potential within Sufi devotional practice. Within the ritual framework of Sufi orders (ṭarīqa), this rhythmic and collective performance acts as a practice of tazkiya an-nafs (self-purification), cultivating attentiveness, moral refinement, and communal belonging through synchronized voice, breath, and bodily presence. The repeated invocation of the Prophet Muḥammad, venerated as the perfect human (al-insān al-kāmil), thus becomes a means of fostering inner transformation and spiritual proximity. In this way, ṣalawāt chanting mediates religious meaning not only through text but through embodied experience and performative devotion.

1. Introduction

The spiritual path in Islam, and especially within Sufi traditions, revolves around the transformation of the human self (nafs) into a consciously God-oriented being. As Muhammad Iqbal articulates, “the essence of the self is will”, and the task of religion is to awaken and actualize this latent potential (Iqbal 1977). Far from being a static doctrine, Islam presents the soul (nafs) as a dynamic principle. On the one hand, the soul as a dynamic center of experience is constantly engaged in a process of purification and development. The aim of this purification is to enable the human being to perceive reality more clearly and to recognize the divine within it. On the other hand, this spiritual path does not entail passive submission; rather, it calls for an active and loving remembrance of God. This vision finds its most refined expression in the mystical dimensions of Islam, where inner discipline and self-cultivation (tazkiya an-nafs) are seen as both ethical obligation and spiritual opportunity. In this context, humans see themselves as both rational actors and seekers who are constantly engaged in the dynamic processes of remembering, perceiving, and transforming (Acar and Kaya 2025, p. 31). In the spiritual life of Sufi traditions, the practice of self-cultivation holds a central position. This study focuses on three particular Sufi orders (ṭarīqa, Pl. ṭurūq)—Rifāʿiyya, Qādiriyya, and Jarrahiyya in modern Turkey—to illustrate this point. According to Sufi teachings, the human being is constantly called upon to perceive both the self and the surrounding world in a continuous state of remembrance of God. The aim of this remembrance is to develop an inner attitude whereby life is lived with an awareness of God’s presence. It transforms the mere perception of the external world into an experience of divine guidance. From this perspective, every experience and encounter becomes an opportunity for spiritual growth and maturation (Chittick 2000).

Within the aforementioned ṭarīqas, the practice of singing hymns, religious texts, and devotional poetry has come to occupy a central place within spiritual life. What initially began as a carefully regulated element—often withheld from novices—has gradually evolved into an integral part of mystical training (Behar 2023, p. 60). This development, however, did not unfold without controversy. The emergence of new performative practices—such as singing, chanting, playing music, or samāʿ, an aesthetic–spiritual practice discussed further below—sparked significant debates among Islamic jurists (Schimmel 1995, pp. 254–63). Emerging performative expressions involving music and bodily movement were sometimes interpreted as dance-like and thus subjected to normative scrutiny. Especially during the formative periods of Islamic law, debates emerged concerning the legitimacy of musical practices in religious contexts (Işık 2024, p. 65). These debates often centered on the boundaries of religious propriety, the permissibility of music, and the role of embodied devotion in spiritual life. This rule (limiting musical practice) aimed to prevent musical rapture from being equated with secular dance or play. A particularly noteworthy example is the Mawlawiyya order, which not only served as a space for sacred musical performance but also functioned as a center where the musical forms of the time could be studied and mastered (Schimmel 1995, p. 258). Instrumental instruction was offered, music enthusiasts gathered in its circles, and musicians received training within the lodges. As the Turkish scholar Cem Behar emphasizes, within the Mawlawiyya tradition, music is not merely regarded as a means of worship or as an expression of faith but, in some instances, as a form of worship in its own right. Singing and playing music are therefore seen by many Sufis as a direct affirmation of their belief (Behar 2023, p. 59).

Although these hadiths are of doubtful authenticity, they still found their way into legal discourse. Nevertheless, al-Ghazālīʾs (d. 1111) position marked a decisive turning point in the normative treatment of music—now understood to include instrumental performance and vocal expression (Işık 2016, p. 184). While some scholars, such as al-Ghazālī, argued for a conditional permissibility grounded in the ethical intention and inner disposition of the performer, others regarded music as potentially morally compromising or spiritually distracting (al-Ghazālī 1972, pp. 190–95).1 These tensions reflect broader discursive dynamics between legal normativity and lived devotional experience. In the mentioned Sufi traditions, musical recitation and chanting thus remained contested yet persistently cultivated elements of ritual life, evolving into powerful instruments of spiritual refinement. Despite persistent juristic reservations about music and vocal expression (as noted in legal discourse), a rich devotional aesthetic culture continued to develop. This was especially evident in the aforementioned Sufi orders. Practices such as the chanting of ṣalawāt were not only preserved but increasingly integrated into spiritual discipline and cultivation. The following sections of this article will demonstrate how and why these aesthetic practices endured, showing that despite juristic controversy, they became essential components of devotional life and vehicles of spiritual refinement.

Building on this premise, the article proceeds with a focused examination of ṣalawāt as a paradigmatic case of Sufi chant. Rather than treating it merely as a form of vocal ornamentation, the analysis approaches ṣalawāt as a spiritually charged practice that integrates theological meaning with musical form and ritual structure. The first part outlines the theological significance of the eulogy, while the subsequent sections offer music–theoretical and ritual–theoretical reflections on how this chant operates within the specific devotional frameworks of named ṭarīqas.

This analysis explores how the performance of ṣalawāt shapes emotional, social, and spiritual experience. Special attention is given to the transitions it marks and to the ways in which repeated vocalization elicits specific affective states and alters consciousness. Moreover, the chant’s role in cultivating embodied attentiveness, communal resonance, and prophetic nearness is investigated through its aesthetic and performative features. In this way, ṣalawāt emerges as a ritualized form of practical theology in which voice, movement, and sacred space converge to produce a dynamic field of ethical and spiritual cultivation.

2. The Prophetic Eulogy

By the late 9th century, various currents within Sufism began to crystallize into distinct traditions. This process of differentiation coincides with what some scholars describe as the “formative” period of Sufism, spanning roughly from 610 to 950 (Renard 2005, p. 4). The subsequent period, from 967 to 1074, marks a phase in which Sufi practices and terminology became increasingly standardized and were systematically documented in manuals authored by established spiritual masters (Knysh 2010, p. 116). Over the course of the following centuries, this development gave rise to organized communities, with the ṭarīqa becoming an established institutional form of spiritual practice from the 12th century onward (Schimmel 1990, p. 167). These orders cultivated collective forms of devotion as well as organized ritual practices that came to be considered essential for the Sufi path, known as sayr as-sulūk, the journey of spiritual transformation. Most of these practices are contemplative in nature and are regarded as inherited spiritual techniques, transmitted across generations and ultimately traced back to the Prophet Muḥammad himself. The veneration of the Prophet occupies a central position within the Sufi tradition. Muhammad is not merely regarded as a historical teacher or transmitter of revelation but as a living spiritual presence whose nearness is continuously sought through meditative and ritual practices (Knysh 2010, pp. 98–101). The Prophet is seen as the perfect human being (al-insān al-kāmil) and spiritual pole (quṭb), whose example guides the path of inner transformation. This understanding forms a crucial point of departure for the interpretation of ṣalawāt as more than a formulaic remembrance. Rather, it becomes a performative invocation that aims to actualize the Prophet’s presence within the spiritual horizon of the practitioner.

This institutionalized form of Sufism, however, emerged only after an earlier formative phase known as zuhd, a term often translated as “asceticism”, though not without conceptual limitations (Andrae 1931, p. 327; Pietruschka 2015, p. 160). During this early period, practitioners emphasized simplicity, austerity, and personal spiritual discipline, seeking an intense inward connection with the divine. Marked by deliberate detachment from worldly comforts and privileges, zuhd was less a formalized system than a lived ethic of renunciation and restraint. The key writings that prefigured institutional Sufism and focused on themes of piety and devotion were known as kutub al-zuhd (books of asceticism or withdrawal) (Baser 2015, pp. 139–41). Yet, the widespread translation of zuhd as “asceticism” often leads to a misconception by drawing implicit parallels with Christian monastic practices. As scholar Leah Kinberg has argued, zuhd should be interpreted within the conceptual framework of Islamic tradition itself, particularly as it is shaped by Qurʾanic anthropology and ethical teachings (Kinberg 1985, pp. 27–28). In this view, zuhd refers not to radical world-denial but to a spiritual discipline of temperance and moderation that is accessible to any believer who aspires to moral excellence. Rather than rejecting material goods outright, early Sufi ethics emphasized a cultivated indifference to their possession or loss. What mattered was not the material object itself but the believer’s inner orientation toward it. The essence of zuhd thus lay in the readiness to entrust both gain and deprivation to the divine will. This posture of surrender and spiritual detachment reflects the mystical virtue of aligning one’s inner life with divine order, and prepared the ethical and spiritual ground from which later Sufi institutions and ritual practices would evolve.

By the mid-12th century, Sufi orders such as the Rifāʿiyya had become more structured. At this stage, communal rhythmic chanting of dhikr, often incorporating melodic eulogies, emerged as a defining feature of institutional Sufi practice. At this historical juncture, chanting began to take on greater liturgical significance, no longer confined to personal devotion but embedded within a collective ritual framework (al Habib 2013, p. 127). Particular attention will be given to the order-specific vocal rendering (uṣūl) of ṣalawāt within named ṭarīqa traditions. Although various eulogical formulas—especially those from the Ottoman–Turkish context—will be briefly referenced, the analysis centers on the melodic and ritualized performance of the Arabic invocation Allāhumma ṣalli ʿalā Sayyidinā Muḥammad.

2.1. Dhikr

While earlier Sufi expressions were shaped by individual meditation, withdrawal, and spiritual solitude, it was with the organizational consolidation of the orders that communal rituals gained prominence (Ohlander 2021, p. 68). Among these practices, dhikr (remembrance of God) occupies a central position, functioning as a contemplative discipline rooted in Qurʾanic injunctions (Qurʾan 2:152; 33:44; 13:28) and frequently performed in devotional assemblies (majlis). The Sufis have taken the verse “Remember your Lord when you forget” as a foundational principle for the practice of dhikr. The phrase “when you forget” has been interpreted in various ways. One interpretation suggests the following: remember when you have forgotten everything other than God; that is, once your mind has been emptied of all that is not the divine, then engage in remembrance (Özgen 2013, p. 219). Within all ṭarīqas, dhikr is considered one of the most powerful spiritual methods for drawing nearer to the divine presence (Chittick 2000, pp. 121, 132). It is not merely the external or verbal repetition of God’s names, praises, or Qurʾanic verses. Rather, it is a multilayered practice that engages the body, mind, and heart.

Dhikr can be performed silently (khafī) or aloud (jahrī), individually or communally (Schimmel 1995, p. 238). Its forms range from silent contemplation to rhythmic recitation accompanied by breath control and bodily movement (Schimmel 1995, p. 247).2 Especially in communal ritual contexts, dhikr often takes the form of repetitive chant, in which specific names of God (asmāʾ al-ḥusnā), central creedal formulas, or invocations are recited. In this process, emphasis is placed not solely on the spoken word but on the entire bodily engagement. Rhythmic breathing, vocal articulation, and coordinated movement are integrated into a comprehensive enactment of spiritual practice. From a ritual–theoretical perspective, dhikr is not only a contemplative exercise but also a ritual act whose efficacy lies precisely in its repetition (Chittick 2000, pp. 63–65). This repetition lends the practice a sense of stability, continuity, and spiritual depth. When the name of God—such as Allāh, Ḥayy, or Hū—is recited, it may serve as a method for gathering attention from the overstimulation of daily life, focusing the mind, and inwardly orienting oneself toward the divine presence. The act of repetition helps interrupt distraction and creates a space for spiritual attentiveness and abiding in the divine. The name of God is thus not merely spoken but remembered with the heart. In this way, dhikr becomes a ritual of divine remembrance that opens up a different mode of perception through presence, rhythm, and embodied engagement. Accordingly, dhikr is more than a form of individual meditation; it constitutes a ritual structure of presence, in which the repeated invocation of a name serves to silence the self and open a space for pure, non-discursive awareness (Chittick 2000, p. 20). This state—described in the Sufi literature as a realm beyond language—cannot be grasped conceptually but must be experienced (Chittick 2000, p. 32). Chanting, singing, or the use of musical instruments are therefore not employed for aesthetic pleasure but as carefully guided means to foster such states of spiritual receptivity (Taji-Farouki 2007, p. 143). As Chittick (2000, p. 29) notes, these practices are strictly regulated and conducted under the supervision of the shaykh, whose responsibility it is to safeguard the inner orientation and spiritual integrity of the dhikr. When bodily movement is integrated with voice, breath (nafas), and the performative act of repetition, the sense of spiritual abiding can be deepened, and the repeated name of God becomes a space of resonance (Chittick 2000, p. 56).

Because it engages the emotions, the repetition of the divine name functions as a contemplative exercise of transformation, aiming to purify one’s thoughts, emotions, and sense of self in the light of divine remembrance (Schimmel 1995, pp. 171–73). The integration of dhikr into structured ritual practices and its musical–rhythmic form reveals that dhikr is a cultivated act of self-recollection, which can be directly linked to the famous maxim of the Prophet, “He who knows himself, knows his Lord” (man ʿarafa nafsahu faqad ʿarafa Rabbahu), a saying that is frequently cited by Sufis as a hadith.

Within this broader liturgical framework, the chanting of ṣalawāt assumes a significant role, especially in dhikr gatherings, where it often serves as the opening invocation and sets the spiritual tone for what follows. The ṣalawāt holds a central place within the ritual practices of the named Sufi orders. It serves as the opening of a ritual or spiritual ceremony, guiding participants into the recitative portion of the devotional act.3 Its central role also points to its embeddedness within the broader system of prescribed recitations known as awrād (Sg. wird), which constitute daily vocal or whispered prayers recited within the framework of the ṭarīqa. If dhikr is understood in the mystical context as an exercise in becoming aware of the presence of God (by presence I mean knowing oneself in connection with God, i.e., submission (taslīm/istislām) (Chittick 2022, p. 49), then it can rightly be regarded as a contemplative practice, precisely because it has the potential to change states of consciousness. Although a full exploration of how dhikr can alter consciousness lies beyond this article’s scope, the practice of wird is aimed precisely at that transformative dimension.

This form of spiritual discipline can be traced directly back to the prophetic tradition. The Prophet Muḥammad himself regularly engaged in specific forms of remembrance at various times throughout the day and night, and he encouraged these devotional habits among his followers (Özgen 2013, pp. 217–18). It is on the basis of this prophetic model that the gradual development of a distinct literary genre emerged, namely the body of texts dedicated to wird and awrād, which have become firmly rooted in Islamic devotional practice.

In particular, within the traditions of the Rifāʿiyya, Qādiriyya, and Jarrahiyya, the collective recitation of these wird texts evolved into an established ritual. As early as the formative period of Sufism, the term wird was used by Sufis to refer to specific Qurʾanic verses that they would recite daily as a means of remembering God (Chittick 2022, p. 68). These verses were seen not only as expressions of divine praise but also as invocations to God in the sense of self-emptying in order to become one with God. In this context, Qurʾanic recitation itself was and is regarded as the supreme form of dhikr, exemplifying the most profound enactment of remembrance of God (Taji-Farouki 2007, pp. 149–50).

In addition to Qurʾanic recitation, the term wird also came to encompass various types of prayers, supplications, and contemplative exercises (Denny 2012). One of the earliest systematic accounts of this practice can be found in the work Qūt al-qulūb (Nourishment of Hearts) by Abū Ṭālib al-Makkī (d. 996). In this seminal text, al-Makkī compiles numerous Qurʾanic verses related to dhikr (remembrance of God), tasbīḥ (glorification), tawba (repentance), and duʿāʾ (supplication), and he assigns them to specific times throughout the day and night (al-Makkī 1992). Moreover, he provides detailed instructions regarding the frequency and manner of their recitation, offering one of the earliest documented examples of the spiritual systematization of these devotional practices (Kara 1995, p. 533; Wensinck n.d.).4

2.2. Ṭarīqa-Specific Chanting of the Ṣalawāt

This prophetic eulogy (or canticle), referred to in Arabic as ṣalāt (singular) or ṣalawāt (plural), is a formulaic invocation of sending blessings upon the Prophet Muḥammad. As a Qurʾanic practice, the recitation of ṣalawāt is directly based on Surah al-Aḥzāb (33:56), which affirms that God and His angels bless the Prophet and calls upon believers to do the same. This verse not only establishes the ritual plausibility of the practice but also classifies it as a divinely initiated act. Scholarly opinions on this Qurʾanic verse vary widely, ranging from the view that it is sufficient to ask the Prophet’s blessing once in a lifetime to the view that the recitation should occur after every mention of his name. Viewed in this light, ṣalawāt expresses reverence and admiration while simultaneously constituting a gesture of participation in a divine practice—an act that embodies prophetic love, spiritual connectedness, and the hope of intercession and closeness (Isik 2015, p. 16).

It weaves together praise, heartfelt supplication, and tender reverence. As such, it constitutes a deeply anchored religious expression, situated not only within personal devotional acts but also within the collective spiritual practices of the community. The term ṣalāt (plural ṣalawāt), derived from the verb ṣallā, carries a wide range of meanings, including prayer, grace, praise, glorification, and exaltation (Mertoğlu 2009, p. 23). It is frequently used as a liturgical and laudatory formula dedicated specifically to the Prophet Muḥammad in Arabic. The ṣalawāt expresses both reverence and admiration, as well as a heartfelt desire for prophetic intercession, protection, and love. It is a eulogy in the sense of a prayer or hymn of asking for divine blessings for the Prophet Muḥammad, and simultaneously a way of recalling his presence, invoking his nearness, and beseeching his support, mercy, and testimony on the Day of Judgment. The relationship with the Prophet is shaped through this eulogy in a sensuous, aesthetic form of vocal performance. However, invoking the name of the Prophet is more than a gesture of veneration. Within Islamic spirituality, the Prophet Muḥammad is regarded as al-insān al-kāmil, the perfect human being (Nasafī 1962). Seen in this light, the repeated vocalization of the ṣalawāt unites ritual remembrance with a deeper spiritual alignment. As it is stated in the context of Islamic mysticism, “Devotional acts such as invoking blessings upon him are thus not merely expressions of reverence but acts of ethical and spiritual alignment” (Allawi 2022, p. 214). Speaking and chanting the ṣalawāt, therefore, establishes a relational space in which veneration of the Prophet becomes intertwined with the striving for moral perfection.

The chanting of the daily litanies (awrād) and devotional formulas (adhkār, plural of dhikr) in the respective orders often follows a fixed rhythm, is embedded in a temporal structure, and is oriented toward repetition. Among these, the ṣalawāt, the invocations of blessings upon the Prophet Muḥammad, hold a particularly constitutive role. The recitation of the ṣalawāt is already anchored in the Qurʾan. In Sūrah Āl-Imrān (3:31), believers are called to follow the Prophet as a sign of their love for God. This verse not only affirms the theological foundation of the practice but also elevates the Prophet as the source and model of beloved religiosity, placing him—especially within the context of dhikr—at the devotional center alongside the divine. Within Ottoman mosque culture, it became a common liturgical convention for the preacher or imām to open a (Friday) sermon (khuṭba) or a waʿz (preaching) after thanking God (ḥamdala) with a loud and verbal invocation that prompts the community to collectively recite blessings upon the Prophet (Akdoğan 2003, p. 346). This often takes place through verbal formulaic initiations such as ʿalā Rasūlinā ṣalawāt or ʿalā Rasūlinā Muḥammad, which mark the transition into the laudatory invocation. One of the shortest and most widely used answers (eulogy) is Allāhumma ṣalli ʿalā sayyidinā Muḥammad—“O Allah, send Your blessings and peace upon our master Muḥammad.”

In certain Ottoman–Turkish orders, additional initiations are inserted into the recitation, such as “Ism-i Pāk Ḥaḍrat-i Muḥammad Muṣṭafā ra ṣalawāt,” “Cism-i Pāk,” or “Rūḥ-i Pāk.” These additions underscore the spiritual richness of the ṣalawāt and draw attention to specific aspects of the Prophet’s being. İsm-i Pāk (literally “pure name”) highlights the purity and sublimity of his name. Cism-i Pāk (literally “pure body”) refers to the exceptional blessedness and sanctity of his physical existence. Rūḥ-i Pāk (literally “pure soul” or “pure spirit”) emphasizes the immaculate nature of the Prophet’s spirit, which in Islamic theology is regarded as free from any defect. They are not initiations in the formal sense of the term but rather poetic and reverent invocations that are recited within the framework of praise or supplication. Often, these formulas are rhythmically structured and sometimes aligned with modal patterns, thereby deepening their affective and spiritual resonance within the ritual.

Beyond formal mosque or tekke (tr. Sufi lodge) settings, a vibrant culture of Prophet-praise developed over the centuries. Many individuals recite ṣalawāt privately as a daily practice, especially on Fridays (considered auspicious in Islamic tradition).

There are various forms of eulogy, which, as previously mentioned, differ in length, melodic intonation, and musical maqām, and have been composed and transmitted in diverse historical and cultural contexts. In addition to the Qurʾanic injunction to repeatedly send blessings upon the Prophet, the Prophet Muḥammad himself encouraged this practice in several ḥadīths (Muslim 2003, Salāt, 405). Motivated by these exhortations, as well as from the awareness that the path to God leads through the Prophet, believers have integrated the frequent invocation of blessings upon him into their religious responsibilities. In this sense, the ṣalāt creates a unifying bond between God, the Prophet, and the believers. It may be recited either aloud or quietly (in one’s heart), individually at any time or collectively during various religious gatherings.

The vocal articulation of the eulogy, particularly in the setting of a mosque, is most often performed individually, softly or in a murmuring tone, without shared rhythm or coordination. This stands in contrast to the practice in tekkes, where the recitation assumes a collective, rhythmically structured, and melodically unified form of invocation (Zamhari 2010, p. 49). The ṣalawāt is chanted in a deliberately slow tempo, with a deep vocal resonance, and takes on the character of a ritual chant. Unlike the individualized practice found in mosques or among believers, this form of collective vocalization follows a defined musical mode and a uniform tonal register.

Building on this, questions arise about the spiritual and performative significance of this specific musical structure and vocalization, particularly when considered alongside the participants’ synchronous physical engagement and collective repetition of the formula. Particularly noteworthy is the ritual bowing (rukuʿ), which is performed in exact synchrony with the utterance of the Prophet’s name and is rhythmically and physically integrated with the vocal performance, forming a harmonious unity between voice, movement, and devotional intention.

The primary focus is on the initiation of a ṭarīqa-specific chanted ṣalawāt, which is recited immediately after the verbal initiation in an audible manner by an authorized individual, typically the shaykh (spiritual master) or a person appointed by him. Following this initiation, all those present recite the ṣalawāt collectively, in unison and on the same tonal pitch. Although the verbal formulation of the ṣalawāt is often consistent across different contexts, its musical realization can vary significantly, particularly with regard to intonation, vocal quality, and, in some instances, the integration of specific maqāmāt.

3. The Identity-Shaping Dimension of Chanted Ṣalawāt

In times of uncertainty, rituals offer orientation and a sense of meaning. From a ritual–theoretical perspective, they also embody and transmit shared values that structure and stabilize human life (Han 2023, pp. 9–11). Alongside the contemporary philosopher Byung-Chul Han, Émile Durkheim had also emphasized in his seminal work The Elementary Forms of Religious Life the foundational role of ritual in creating social cohesion—a role that continues to inform contemporary understandings of religious practice (Durkheim 1995). According to both, rituals not only create order but also produce a strong sense of belonging (Han 2023, p. 9; Durkheim 1995, pp. 504, 536). In this light, one may ask how the collective chanting of ṣalawāt unfolds a stabilizing and community-forming power, as it synchronizes voice, breath, and bodily movement, and how the shared rhythm fosters belonging, emotional attunement, and spiritual cohesion among participants.

Within the ṭarīqa, the convergence of embodied practices and musical structure generates a distinctive habitus that reflects the tradition and ethos of the respective Sufi order. Ṣalawāt are often performed either fully or in part within specific melodic modes (maqāmāt) or according to characteristic rhythmic and melodic patterns. Similar to Qurʾan recitation, the vocal performance does not merely follow the textual content but also adheres to its musical dimension. This orientation toward musical substance allows for the emergence of deep emotional resonances, which are shaped by specific tonalities and techniques of intonation. The rhythmic recitation of the prophetic eulogy, which inherently includes a physical component, thus functions as a marker of spiritual and communal identity. Music is an auditory art form that unfolds over time, and its rhythm influences the physical movements of those present, often inducing a state of resonance with one another (Trost et al. 2017, pp. 96–110). The phenomenon of body–sound synchronization in collective practice has been demonstrated to engender a sense of performance that extends beyond the mere execution of movements. The integration of body and sound has been observed to evoke a profound sense of unity, often manifesting as a physical merging with the group. This phenomenon can further reinforce the collective sense of unity and belonging within the group. Participants may perceive that their fellow practitioners are experiencing similar emotions and spiritual sensations through the shared soundscape. This perceived mutual resonance serves to reinforce the notion of participating in a shared spiritual experience, although this cannot be determined with certainty.

In this context, the English musicologist and sociologist Tia DeNora expands the perspective in her influential work Music as a Technology of the Self (DeNora 2000, p. 24). She demonstrates that music is not merely passively consumed but rather serves as an active medium through which individuals shape their identity and influence social situations. According to DeNora, music is a resource that individuals actively use in various contexts in order to process memories, emotions, and dimensions of self-understanding. Her analysis addresses not only the affective impact of music but also the symbolic meanings associated with different musical forms. With her concept of “music as it comes to be implicated in the construction of the self as an aesthetic agent” (ibid., p. 46), she articulates how music is integrally involved in the cultivation of the self, positioning the individual as an aesthetic and reflexive agent within the framework of everyday life. In relation to the practice of eulogic chanting, it becomes evident how this form of rhythmic vocalization not only evokes but also shapes memories and emotions. The chanted ṣalawāt stands as an expression form of veneration while at the same time unfolding a space for inner reflection, affective mobilization, and spiritual deepening (Van der Merwe and Habron 2015). The process of singing or chanting together may stimulate emotions and cognition, initiate hermeneutical dynamics, and unfold across bodily, spatial, and spiritual dimensions—especially in combination with particular bodily movements, but it remains subjective (Kaiser 2017, pp. 73–74). The act of singing together might enable a symbolic form of connection all together with the Prophet. It creates a shared space in which breathing together, listening attentively, and attuning to one another give rise to a particular quality of communication and relationship-building. While the effects of such sonic practices cannot be universally determined—given the deeply personal and biographically shaped nature of musical perception, especially in relation to early auditory and religious experiences—they nonetheless open a potential for resonance, presence, and embodied relationality (Metzner and Busch 2015, pp. 193–95).

Whilst the recitation of ṣalawāt is often portrayed as a spiritually uplifting and transformative act, it is important to acknowledge the full spectrum of (emotional) experiences associated with this practice. In lived religious contexts, ritual chanting is not always purely soothing or harmonious. Fatigue, emotional distance, or even inner resistance can arise with prolonged or repeated performances. Furthermore, the pressure to conform or participate in collective situations can lead to moments of hypocrisy or social coercion, in which the outward act of chanting masks inner dissonance or ambivalence. These dimensions do not diminish the spiritual significance of ṣalawāt, but they require a more nuanced understanding—one that considers the complex interplay of intention, embodiment, and community dynamics. At this point, it becomes evident that empirical fieldwork is necessary. Only a differentiated consideration of this ambivalence enables a greater engagement with the ritual and a deeper appreciation of its transformative possibilities, precisely because it takes into account the reality of human variability and vulnerability.

Beyond the communal function of chanting the ṣalawāt, a deeper dimension emerges—the cultural power of auditory memory through repetition. Ritualized forms of chanting, such as the collectively spoken or chanted ṣalawāt, do not merely serve to preserve religious tradition; rather, they actualize it in a sensuous and embodied manner. As recent scholarship in the field of aesthetic religious studies has noted, “Ritual repetition is not simply a means of preserving memory, but a mode of embodiment through which memory becomes sensually present” (Pārsānasab 2011, p. 162). In this context, sound becomes a medium of embodied remembrance, an acoustic form of presence through which spiritual meaning is not only transmitted but becomes experientially accessible in the very act of ritual performance. The repeated praise of the Prophet Muḥammad not only brings him to the forefront of the participants’ awareness but renders his symbolic proximity perceptible, audible, and tangible through the shared act of vocal invocation. Thus, the ṣalawāt transforms from a formulaic phrase into a mode of spiritual presence in which memory, sound, and body are deeply interwoven. Within this framework, the voice itself acquires a distinct theological significance. It is not merely a vehicle for transmitting semantic content but becomes a medium of making presence felt. The voice not only carries meaning, it creates presence. This insight articulates how, especially in the rhythmically structured and consciously modulated recitation of the ṣalawāt, the voice does more than name or praise—it evokes nearness. It calls forth a spiritual presence that transcends the spoken word. In the context of dhikr, the Prophet Muḥammad is not only remembered but is invoked as a sonically experienced figure of spiritual relationship, made present through voice and sound.

One possible explanation for this phenomenon lies in the synchronization of body and sound. The performative dimension on the level of action might enhance the sonic dimension: crossing the arms over the chest or placing the right hand over the heart are examples of bodily gestures that, when performed in conjunction with the vocal recitation, acquire ritual significance. Especially the collective and synchronized execution of these practices intensifies the communal experience. The physical performativity thus reinforces the identity-forming impact of the ritual. By integrating the semantic dimension of the ṣalāt, emotional responses may be triggered through the invocation or recollection of the Prophet Muḥammad. Even though no universally valid or direct causal relationship between music and emotional responses can be assumed, the vocal invocation of the Prophet is capable of eliciting a wide range of sentiments. These may include deep reverence and awe, as well as longing for his intercession, protection, and affection. At the same time, feelings such as humility, modesty, and the awareness of one’s own shortcomings and fragility can be awakened (Egermann and Kreutz 2018, p. 617).

Such an experience contributes to the formation of collective identity and offers emotional security to participants, as it produces a symbolic demarcation while simultaneously nurturing a deep bond within the community (Laack 2011, pp. 524–29). The shared musical experience and communal singing not only evoke a sense of unity but the act of producing and receiving sound together also imparts a feeling of safety to the participants (Kaiser 2017, p. 414). This occurs through the symbolic and rhythmic delineation between in-group and out-group (Gugutzer 2002) in this context, between members of a given ritual tradition and adherents of other Sufi lineages (tekke traditions).5 This differentiation initiates a process of collective identity formation, the subjective significance of which becomes all the more profound when it is felt rather than merely understood. At the same time, music functions as a secondary mode of “language” that deepens the believing comprehension of the Prophet’s reality and intensifies emotional attachment to him. It serves as a medium for the testimony of faith in the Prophet. Thus, the symbolic meaning of singing lies in its capacity to strengthen identity and a sense of belonging within the spiritual community. Through rhythmic movement, consciously regulated breathing, and synchronized vocalization within the group, bodily experiences are generated that heighten the perception of communal solidarity and collective identity.

A slow and elongated articulation, accompanied by a deep vocal tone, as is customary in the recitation of the ṣalawāt discussed here, can intensify its emotional effect. Conversely, one’s inner emotional state can shape the sound and modulation of the voice. When words are drawn out, the reciter feels a vibration within their body. Deep and resonant tones exert a stabilizing, calming, and grounding influence on both body and mind. At the same time, the collective and synchronized chanting fosters a sense of order and ritual structure within the dhikr practice. The repeated use of this vocal mode not only contributes to the preservation of the ṭarīqa tradition but also serves as a means of communal self-affirmation. Through this embodied and sensory practice, the identity of the community is not only strengthened internally but also rendered audible, visible, and tangible to the outside world.

4. Connecting Singing Performance with Character Cultivation

In this context, the renowned philosopher al-Fārābī (872–950) addresses in his seminal work Kitāb al-Mūsīqī al-Kabīr (Grand Book of Music) the question of how music influences the human soul and the role it plays in cultivating virtue and harmony. The development and refinement of good character traits, according to this perspective, do not occur through theoretical reflection alone, nor through isolated learning. Rather, they unfold in direct interpersonal encounter, within the social fabric of human life, in and through action itself. In such social contexts, ethical values and virtues are not only intellectually considered but also embodied and enacted. Al-Fārābī argues that music can have a positive influence on the moral character of a person. From this viewpoint, he regards music as an aesthetic medium capable of shaping and refining character. He maintains that certain melodies and rhythmic structures can evoke specific emotional and spiritual states of the soul, which explains their profound effect on human emotion. This, in turn, can contribute to ethical formation and the cultivation of inner balance and equanimity (al-Fārābī 1967).

This view reflects a broader philosophical and anthropological understanding within the Islamic intellectual tradition. Ethical cultivation, therefore, was seen as a multidimensional process that could involve aesthetic experiences, sensory perception, and embodied practices (Işık 2022, pp. 244, 249). In this regard, many classical Muslim thinkers—including Abū Bakr ar-Rāzī (865–925), who was known above all as a physician and philosopher—were deeply engaged with the question of how imbalances of the soul, which could manifest in both physiological and psychological symptoms, might be treated or harmonized not only through medicine but also through music, singing, and the therapeutic use of sound and water (Gökpınar 2023, pp. 2–3). In the intersection of musical practice, spiritual cultivation, and philosophical theory, music was understood as a science (ʿilm al-mūsīqī) belonging to the mathematical disciplines, but with clear links to medicine and psychology—a view reinforced by thinkers such as Ibn Sīnā and the Ikhwān aṣ-Ṣafāʾ (Granot and Shair 2019, p. 588). Moreover, as Yasemin Gökpınar demonstrates, al-Fārābī was not only a theorist in the abstract sense but also someone who considered the instruments and musical modes (maqāmāt) of his time in order to illustrate how specific tonal intervals could affect emotional and moral states (Gökpınar 2023, p. 4). In sum, the ethical significance of music in Islamic philosophical thought was not merely a metaphor but part of an integrated view of human flourishing—one in which musical experience, bodily perception, emotional life, and moral character stood in dynamic and reciprocal relation. Owing to the lack of empirical field studies, it is methodologically problematic to draw definitive conclusions about the concrete effects of ṣalawāt chanting (especially in a specific tekke setting). Nevertheless, from a ritual–theoretical perspective, one can explore the affective and embodied dynamics that such practices may activate. Nevertheless, from a ritual–theoretical perspective, one can explore the affective and embodied dynamics that such practices may activate. Through rhythmic repetition and aesthetic patterning, ṣalawāt produces a spiritual and ethical orientation in which the Prophet is rendered acoustically present. This sonic evocation gives rise to a symbolic and deeply subjective encounter: the Prophet Muḥammad becomes an acoustic mirror in which the self perceives itself anew, illuminated by his presence. In this deeply subjective encounter, the central question of tazkiya arises: “Who am I, and how am I in the presence of the Prophet?” This becomes a matter of inner examination.

Consequently, an emotional and spiritual bond unfolds between the believer and the Prophet—intensified by the belief that invoking his name symbolically evokes the presence of his soul at the site of remembrance. The vocalized praise, embodied in the voice and accompanied by rhythmic movement and inward orientation, enables the person who chants to enter into a different perception of the self. The auditory experience has the capacity to influence the atmosphere, while concomitantly affecting a transformation in one’s inner disposition and mode of perception (Knysh 2010, pp. 305–10). This symbolic proximity can bring moral shortcomings and unresolved inner states to awareness—states from which one seeks purification. The physical act of bowing may reinforce these sensations, deepening one’s awareness of imperfection and the distance from the prophetic ideal, while simultaneously functioning as a silent promise of ethical striving and inner refinement.

As musicological research has shown, “the body, through breath and movement, becomes a vessel of expression. Singing or reciting religious formulas transforms emotional states and connects the singer, through physical and vocal alignment, with the sacred” (Van der Merwe and Habron 2015, pp. 55–56). In this interplay of body, voice, and spirituality, a performative space emerges in which the sacred is not only recalled cognitively but approached in a bodily and sensory way.

On a semantic level, initiatory Ottoman attributes, mentioned above, such as ism-i pāk (pure name), cism-i pāk (pure body), and rūḥ-i pāk (pure spirit) underscore the multifaceted veneration of the Prophet and the holistic nature of this liturgical relationship. At the same time, these affirmative designations invite the believer to a heightened form of self-examination, as the Prophet’s attributes serve as ethical reference points. Thus, the connection with the Prophet becomes a site of introspection, transformation, and moral striving.

At this point, it is helpful to draw attention to the distinction between hearing and listening. In the context of spiritual music and Sufi practice, this differentiation is of central importance. It points to two fundamentally different modes of perception. Hearing can be understood as a passive, often unintentional physiological process, whereas listening (samāʿ) (Işık 2024, p. 63)6 refers to an active, attentive, and intentional engagement that seeks meaning, receptivity, and inward participation. This distinction becomes particularly relevant in the ritual chanting of the ṣalawāt. Here, listening becomes a spiritual act that transcends mere acoustic perception. The repetitive performance of the ṣalawāt within the ritual setting is not only musically and performatively significant, but it also invites an inner presence. This is a form of concentrated, compassionate listening that opens the realm of the sacred. The sonic environment of spiritual music cannot be reduced to mere hearing in the sense of registering sound. Rather, it calls for a listening that is affectively engaged, a resonant, inwardly attuned attention that goes beyond passive reception. Such attentive listening cultivates a specific mode of spiritual presence, in which aesthetic experience, contemplative awareness, and emotional resonance become intertwined. As William Chittick notes, the heart (qalb) is not only the seat of ethical discernment but the organ of divine reception—it “sees” God not through reason alone but through dhawq, a kind of spiritual tasting (Chittick 1989, pp. 261–62). Within this framework, sound is not neutral or merely emotional; it acts directly upon the heart, stirring remembrance and enabling the soul to receive subtle forms of meaning that exceed rational grasp.

The aforementioned discrepancy is made manifest in the context of ritualized practice, whereby the ṣalawāt calls for devotion through two distinct channels: firstly, through the vocal articulation of the individual, and secondly, through a responsive listening to the chanting of the community within the tekke. The act of mindful listening enables the chanters to participate in a dialogical act, one in which praise and inner response meet. This ritualized form of listening may be understood as an expression of spiritual attentiveness. It is not analytical in nature but devotional, and in this devotion lies the possibility of incorporation and transformation.

Viewed through the lens of ritual theory, the ṭarīqa-specific chanting of the ṣalawāt reveals itself as a practice of inner formation—an embodied pedagogy of the self. Through repetition, discipline, and sonic structure, it establishes a rhythm that gradually aligns the self with a transcendent pattern—one that is not guided by individual will alone but carried by the ritual order and the spiritual orientation it conveys (Zamhari 2010, p. 52). Within this process, the Sufi master plays a central role in ascertaining the correctness of the practice, ensuring that the vocal, bodily, and spiritual dimensions remain attuned to the tradition. In this sense, chanting becomes more than vocal expression; it functions as a subtle medium of ethical and emotional refinement.

The musical dimension of ṣalawāt evokes a bodily and affective knowledge that precedes conceptual articulation. This pre-reflective understanding, as Bubmann (2022, pp. 29–31) notes, unfolds through the body itself—through breath, resonance, and tone. The invocation of the Prophet thus becomes a space of affective self-discovery: the voice that praises also listens, resonates, and transforms.

What emerges is a form of spiritual listening that does not merely recall the sacred but enables an ethical reorientation through the aesthetic medium of sound. In this perspective, ṣalawāt chanting becomes an art of living—an ongoing exercise in attunement to the self, to others, and ultimately to the divine. It is a spiritual discipline in which voice, rhythm, and remembrance interweave to form a path of inward refinement.

5. The Spiritual Power of the Sounding Voice

Embedded in a ritual framework, the chanting of ṣalawāt unfolds, as already mentioned, as a practice of inner transformation. It is not only an act of mindfulness but also a pedagogical process—a form of self-cultivation through sound. Repetition, as Zamhari (2010, pp. 52–53) notes, is central to this dynamic: it preserves memory while promoting discipline, attention, and spiritual alignment. Through rhythmic regularity and vocal synchronicity, the self resonates with a structure that transcends individual intention, thus enabling a gradual refinement of perception and disposition.

Listening plays a crucial role in this process. To perform the song precisely and reverently, participants must attune themselves not only to the musical structure but also to each other. This relational listening fosters empathy, patience, and mindfulness. The awareness that each voice is dependent on the others fosters a sense of mutual trust and consideration. Thus, the collective act of sound becomes a space in which affective and moral capacities are cultivated in and through sound.

In this light, the voice must be understood as more than just a carrier of melody or lyrics—it becomes the embodied site of spiritual expression. As Fatih Koca notes, it is the place where “spiritual intention becomes audibly and emotionally anchored” (Koca 2023, p. 9). Its sound, breath, and resonance express sincerity, vulnerability, and alignment with the divine (Ernst 1997, p. 180). Singing the ṣalawāt is thus both a declaration of veneration to the Prophet and a sonic act of self-alignment. It creates presence—emotionally, spiritually, and ontologically.

The emotional depth of this practice cannot be fully captured through theological language alone. Research in music psychology demonstrates how certain musical parameters—such as tempo, pitch, volume, and harmonic structure—evoke emotional responses that are somatically inscribed (Bernatzky and Kreutz 2015, pp. 31–34). These affective dynamics operate below the level of reflection, resonating with internal states, amplifying or modulating them. In religious chanting, slow tempi and consonant tonal structures are frequently associated with calm, humility, and reverence, whereas dissonances or abrupt shifts can trigger alertness, arousal, or even cathartic release (Kaiser 2017, p. 150; Gao et al. 2017, pp. 1–3).

However, current research also emphasizes that there is no simple causal relationship between musical structures and emotional reactions. Rather, emotional responses to music emerge from a dynamic interaction between listener characteristics (e.g., personality traits or spiritual disposition), contextual factors (such as solitary versus collective listening), and musical features (such as acoustic properties or compositional structure) (Egermann and Kreutz 2018, p. 617). The recent literature describes multiple mechanisms—ranging from physiological arousal to associative and empathetic processes—that mediate between sound, setting, and subjective emotions (Zentner and Eerola 2010; Kreutz 2002). These findings suggest that religious music, including the chanting of ṣalawāt, can have profound emotional and bodily effects, which vary according to context and person. Such insights may provide a foundational framework for future interdisciplinary approaches in music therapy and ritual studies.

Ethnomusicological research further highlights the cultural encoding of musical forms. In Sufi traditions, maqāmāt are not merely tonal systems but affective templates that aim to evoke distinct emotional dispositions—such as longing (ḥanīn), awe (khushuʿ), or love (maḥabba) (Baily 2012). These modes function as archetypal soundscapes, shaping not only individual emotion but collective spiritual atmospheres (Bachmaier-Ekşi 2017).

In ritualized, collective contexts, such as the ṭarīqa-specific chanting of ṣalawāt, the emotional and spiritual resonance of music becomes a stabilizing force. It fosters coherence of feeling, opens pathways of reflection, and reorients the self toward a transcendent source of meaning. Here, sound becomes an art of living—a continuous practice of ethical refinement, relational awareness, and devotion. Thus, singing the ṣalawāt becomes a bridge between body and spirit: it enables the singer to reconnect with their physicality through breath, posture, tone, and resonance—grounding spiritual intention in embodied sensation. In doing so, the practice fosters bodily presence, physiological coherence, and a heightened sense of living within and through the ritual act (Neus 2017, p. 23).

Although this article emphasizes the spiritual and ethical potential of ritualized sound, one limitation must be acknowledged. The gendered dimension—specifically, the role of the female voice in dhikr contexts—remains underexplored. Although collective singing often aims to overcome personal differences—to blend individual timbres into a single body of sound—the question remains as to the extent to which this sonic indifference can also be reflected in practical dhikr settings.

6. Concluding Reflections

The present article has demonstrated that the musical element in Sufi practice is far more than an acoustic embellishment. It must be recognized as a central medium of spiritual and ethical cultivation. Indeed, the rhythmically structured performance of the ṣalawāt emerges as a spiritually condensed form of action that transcends semantic and liturgical functions. Sound does not merely accompany meaning—it enacts it. Theologically, this ritual repetition renders religious content not only cognitively accessible but bodily tangible. Singing becomes a medium of embodied memory and presence, allowing spiritual significance to be sensually encountered, e.g., spiritual awareness or devotional feeling, and renewed.

As a musical expression of prophetic love, the ṣalawāt functions both as actus pietatis and actus transformationis. It is a devotional utterance that simultaneously honors the Prophet and transforms the one who voices it. Within the framework of Islamic theological anthropology (in which humans are called to tazkiya an-nafs), such repeated, embodied practices assume particular significance (Chittick 2000, p. 50). The manifestation of a spiritual order is facilitated through rhythmic vocalization, which engenders a dual effect: the external structuring of sound and the internal reorientation of the self. The voice becomes a vessel of remembrance and a site of manifestation. In religious sound theory, the voice is not merely expressive but generative—it creates atmosphere and nearness.

In the context of collective recitation, the Prophet is not merely commemorated; rather, he is brought into a state of symbolic and experiential presence. His virtues are made audible and emotionally resonant in those who speak, chant, or sing his name. Especially in dhikr gatherings, this practice becomes a communal event in which the fusion of sound, movement, and voice creates a spiritual resonance. This resonance enables participants to feel connected to a reality greater than themselves. The ṣalawāt thus becomes a liturgically enacted theology, conveyed through lived, experiential knowing that shapes and transforms the listener. This highlights an essential aesthetic insight: to hear religion is to experience it differently from reading it. The process of understanding religious meaning involves a cognitive, affective, and physical dimension, with the understanding being formed through auditory perception. The repeated chanting of the ṣalawāt, often within rhythmic frameworks (uṣūl), grounds the practitioner in both a sensory and a spiritual reality. What emerges is a pedagogy of the self—an aesthetic training of attentiveness, patience, and inner alignment. Indeed, the ethical dimension lies not in doctrinal instruction but in the cultivation of ethical dispositions through listening, silence, and breath.

Furthermore, the sonic form—intonation, rhythm, and maqām—plays a decisive role in shaping spiritual affect. The ṣalawāt is not merely recited; rather, it is articulated in such a manner as to evoke feelings of humility, profound veneration, and yearning. These emotions are not the result of intellectual reflection alone but arise through the affective texture of sound. In this light, religious sound becomes the very medium through which the divine is not merely interpreted; it is encountered in a sensorial and spiritual manner.

One important aspect beyond the scope of this study is the role of gender. While the discussion has focused on the communal resonance of the sung voice, it deliberately set aside questions of gender and voice. In practice, in many ṭarīqa settings, the blending of voices in dhikr has been observed to transcend personal markers such as gender. Nevertheless, the question of who may lead such vocal rituals remains highly contested. There is a long history of women’s participation in many dimensions of Sufi life. Nevertheless, the notion of a female dhikr leader raises significant questions about authority, tradition, and gender dynamics within Sufi tekkes. As Abbas (2002, p. 1) has pointed out, the field of ethnographic inquiry has historically paid limited attention to the ritual lives of Sufi communities where both genders participate, with particular neglect of women’s roles in such contexts. This imbalance has persisted. Recent studies continue to focus predominantly on male experiences, thereby leaving the dynamics of female participation and spiritual authority in Sufi rituals largely unexamined (Abbas 2002, p. 1). These tensions indicate the necessity for further research into the manner in which spiritual leadership is practiced, legitimized, and experienced across gendered boundaries.