D Gershon Lewental
I am a cultural historian of the Middle East, focusing on how societies use religion, memory, and conflict to define and maintain their identities. I teach Middle Eastern history in the Department of International & Area Studies at the University of Oklahoma since 2012 and have taught Islamic history in the Department of Middle Eastern and Islamic Studies at Shalem College in Jerusalem, Israel. I earned my AB (magna cum laude) from Cornell University and my doctorate in Middle Eastern history from Brandeis University. My dissertation, on the Battle of al-Qādisiyyah during the Arab-Islamic conquest of Iran and the changing perceptions of the engagement through time, received the Foundation of Iranian Studies Best Dissertation Award and the Brandeis University Glatzer Dissertation Prize. My fields of specialisation include early Islamic history and historiography, Iranian history, the Bahaʾi faith, and Israeli society.
Supervisors: Avigdor Levy, David Powers, and Norman Stillman
Address: 729 Elm Street,
Hester Hall 314
Norman, Oklahoma 73019
USA
Supervisors: Avigdor Levy, David Powers, and Norman Stillman
Address: 729 Elm Street,
Hester Hall 314
Norman, Oklahoma 73019
USA
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Muslim historians adopted and adapted Biblical patterns to recast the battles of the Futūḥ as both re-enactments of Biblical episodes and fulfilments of Biblical prophecies. The Israelite conquests provided a thematic and kerygmatic narrative precedent—particularly, the Battle of Jericho, which appears as the foil for a number of Muslim victories. A particularly salient analogy occurs in the conquest of Ḥimṣ —whose city walls collapsed following the Muslim army’s pronouncement of the takbīr. Parallels can be drawn between other Biblical battles and Muslim victories, such as the Israelite ruse during the successful conquest of Ai, which augurs that of the Muslims at Jalūlāʾ.
Such intertextuality suggests that Muslim writers engaged in a dialogue with earlier texts and their language provides a key to understanding how these parallels were intended to be read. Speeches by caliphs, generals, and envoys emphasising the divinely-ordained nature of the mission often directly echo the words of God to the Children of Israel on the eve of their conquest of Canaan. Thus, much as Qurʾān imagines the ummah as a ‘new and improved’ salvific community, the Futūḥ narratives recast the Arab-Muslim warriors as entering a Seventh-Century Promised Land. However, for historians removed from the heroïc age by a few centuries, the subsequent course of Islamic history—punctured by assassinations, civil wars, and impious rulers—represented yet another tragic cycle of human history. Their presentation of the Arab-Islamic conquests thus used Biblical paradigms to foreshadow the coming fall from glory. The accounts of the conquests became markers, signalling the departure from the idealised shell of early Islam into the profane world, the peaking of the ‘Golden Age’ of the early Islamic community, whose rending would commence shortly with the first Fitnah, and the continuity of Islamic history and the Muslim community with the prior cycles of Jewish and Christian history, with the hope that redemption might come again.
Yet the exaggerated descriptions demonstrate the third stage in the Derafsh’s transformation. These stories served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, they underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about the Muslim leaders’ insistence upon the equitable distribution of the flag—even at a cost of destroying the priceless object—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of such spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these accounts as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of the Derafsh tore it loose from its historical moorings, transforming it into a symbol of pre-Islamic Iranian empire. But having entered into the realm of Islam, the banner took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. On the one hand, its description as an item of incomparable worth seized during the vanquishing of the Sāsānian Empire reinforced the message of the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran. Yet, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed the now-symbolic object, adding it to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity. In modern times, Iranian nationalists have resurrected the Derafsh-e kāveyān as an emblem of pre-Islamic Iran , in a conscious rejection of Iran’s Islamic identity.
The exaggerated descriptions of these objects served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, reports of these treasures underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about Muslim fighters who failed to appreciate the worth of these items and about Muslim leaders’ insistence upon their equitable distribution—even at a cost of destroying the priceless objects—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of these spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these stories as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of these objects tore them loose from their historical moorings, transforming them into symbols of empire, patterned after remembered and imagined glories of Sāsānian Iran. But having entered into the realm of Islam, these precious items took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. Although these items represented ostensibly the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed these now-symbolic objects, adding them to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity.
The exaggerated descriptions of these objects served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, reports of these treasures underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about Muslim fighters who failed to appreciate the worth of these items and about Muslim leaders’ insistence upon their equitable distribution—even at a cost of destroying the priceless objects—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of these spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these stories as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of these objects tore them loose from their historical moorings, transforming them into symbols of empire, patterned after remembered and imagined glories of Sāsānian Iran. But having entered into the realm of Islam, these precious items took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. The description of the richness of the loot seized during the vanquishing of the Sāsānian Empire reinforced the message of the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran. Yet, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed these now-symbolic objects, adding them to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity.
Using textual and archival sources from Bahāʾī, British, and Israeli records and in multiple languages, especially documentation from the Israeli State Archives, I contend that a study of the Bahāʾī community in Mandatory Palestine and the State of Israel, focusing on the rise and fall of its community from 1917 to 1957, would shed new light on the history of the community, the heretofore neglected relations between Jews and Bahāʾīs in the Mandatory era, the situation of the Bahāʾī community in the 1948 War (including the connexions of Bahāʾī renegades to the Palestinian Arab national movement), and the attitude of the young State of Israel towards one of its smallest minority communities, as well as the first diplomatic contacts between Israel and Iran, which revolved around the status of Iranian nationals in the Bahāʾī community .
Ultimately, through a careful examination of these various themes, I argue that both Bahāʾīs and the Yishuv/Israeli leadership have engaged in similar quests for recognition and legitimacy, which I propose are mutual and complementary. Moreover, I make a case for the adoption of such an interdisciplinary approach, which produces results with meaningful implications for those studying Bahāʾī and religious history, Zionism, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and other topics. The fact that the Bahāʾī community in Israel lies unobserved at the nexus of so many prominent fields of scholastic inquiry bolsters my contention that scholars of Israel and of the Bahāʾī faith have much to benefit from sharing in each other’s primary sources and scholarship.
The commander of the Arab-Muslim army at al-Qādisiyyah was Saʿd b. Abī Waqqāṣ, one of Muḥammad’s closest Companions and one of the ‘ten promised paradise’. Yet, in a curious and wholly extraordinary situation, Saʿd never set foot on the battle-field, allegedly due to a humiliating and debilitating illness. Instead, the historical sources focus their attentions on a minor poet-warrior named Abū Miḥjan, whose awe-inspiring acts of bravery in combat restored the confidence of his fellow fighters. Nevertheless, Abū Miḥjan himself was a controversial figure—a drunkard and a coward who pursued a debaucherous life of bacchanalia and chasing women. The utterly unorthodox nature of these two individuals—discerned through a close and careful reading of the texts—stands in stark contrast to their ‘official’ biographies and the efforts by later historians to whitewash the past. Indeed, what emerges is a rare opportunity for the modern historian to observe remarkably-human portraits of these early Muslims.
Furthermore, a broader look at the narrative can identify these and other figures in the historical annals according to mythical archetypes—here, Saʿd is the Hero and Abū Miḥjan is the Trickster. Ultimately, I suggest that the texts represent a partially-developed prose epic, which failed to coalesce into a proper epic due to the very literate nature of early Islamic civilisation. While the emphasis on written Arabic accounts may have forestalled the emergence of an Arab-Islamic epic, the half-historical and half-literary nature of the sources tells us much about the processes of creating and constructing narratives in the first centuries of Islamic society and the identity and self-conception of those fashioning its formative texts.
Muslim historians adopted and adapted Biblical patterns to recast the battles of the Futūḥ as both re-enactments of Biblical episodes and fulfilments of Biblical prophecies. The Israelite conquests provided a thematic and kerygmatic narrative precedent—particularly, the Battle of Jericho, which appears as the foil for a number of Muslim victories. A particularly salient analogy occurs in the conquest of Ḥimṣ —whose city walls collapsed following the Muslim army’s pronouncement of the takbīr. Parallels can be drawn between other Biblical battles and Muslim victories, such as the Israelite ruse during the successful conquest of Ai, which augurs that of the Muslims at Jalūlāʾ.
Such intertextuality suggests that Muslim writers engaged in a dialogue with earlier texts and their language provides a key to understanding how these parallels were intended to be read. Speeches by caliphs, generals, and envoys emphasising the divinely-ordained nature of the mission often directly echo the words of God to the Children of Israel on the eve of their conquest of Canaan. Thus, much as Qurʾān imagines the ummah as a ‘new and improved’ salvific community, the Futūḥ narratives recast the Arab-Muslim warriors as entering a Seventh-Century Promised Land. However, for historians removed from the heroïc age by a few centuries, the subsequent course of Islamic history—punctured by assassinations, civil wars, and impious rulers—represented yet another tragic cycle of human history. Their presentation of the Arab-Islamic conquests thus used Biblical paradigms to foreshadow the coming fall from glory. The accounts of the conquests became markers, signalling the departure from the idealised shell of early Islam into the profane world, the peaking of the ‘Golden Age’ of the early Islamic community, whose rending would commence shortly with the first Fitnah, and the continuity of Islamic history and the Muslim community with the prior cycles of Jewish and Christian history, with the hope that redemption might come again.
Yet the exaggerated descriptions demonstrate the third stage in the Derafsh’s transformation. These stories served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, they underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about the Muslim leaders’ insistence upon the equitable distribution of the flag—even at a cost of destroying the priceless object—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of such spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these accounts as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of the Derafsh tore it loose from its historical moorings, transforming it into a symbol of pre-Islamic Iranian empire. But having entered into the realm of Islam, the banner took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. On the one hand, its description as an item of incomparable worth seized during the vanquishing of the Sāsānian Empire reinforced the message of the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran. Yet, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed the now-symbolic object, adding it to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity. In modern times, Iranian nationalists have resurrected the Derafsh-e kāveyān as an emblem of pre-Islamic Iran , in a conscious rejection of Iran’s Islamic identity.
The exaggerated descriptions of these objects served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, reports of these treasures underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about Muslim fighters who failed to appreciate the worth of these items and about Muslim leaders’ insistence upon their equitable distribution—even at a cost of destroying the priceless objects—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of these spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these stories as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of these objects tore them loose from their historical moorings, transforming them into symbols of empire, patterned after remembered and imagined glories of Sāsānian Iran. But having entered into the realm of Islam, these precious items took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. Although these items represented ostensibly the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed these now-symbolic objects, adding them to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity.
The exaggerated descriptions of these objects served multiple purposes in early Islamic society. Beyond their entertainment purpose for early oral story-tellers, reports of these treasures underscored the ‘embarrassment of riches’ in Sāsānian society and the profound corruption of non-Muslim rule. Accompanying tales about Muslim fighters who failed to appreciate the worth of these items and about Muslim leaders’ insistence upon their equitable distribution—even at a cost of destroying the priceless objects—established the purity of Muslim aims. In this manner, the accounts of these spoils justified the conquest of Iran to both Muslims and non-Muslims in early Islamic society. Later historians may have also sought to use these stories as a subtle critique of their own worldly patrons. Finally, reports of the division of the booty seized by Muslim warriors served as a legal precedent for later Islamic scholars.
Ultimately, the hyperbolic nature of the accounts of these objects tore them loose from their historical moorings, transforming them into symbols of empire, patterned after remembered and imagined glories of Sāsānian Iran. But having entered into the realm of Islam, these precious items took on—somewhat ironically—an ephemeral nature. The description of the richness of the loot seized during the vanquishing of the Sāsānian Empire reinforced the message of the legitimacy of Islam and dissoluteness of pre-Islamic Iran. Yet, paradoxically, as Persian-speaking provinces of the Islamic world began to assert autonomy beginning in the Ninth Century, new Muslim Iranians reclaimed these now-symbolic objects, adding them to their cultural arsenal in their efforts to forge an Islamic Iranian identity.
Using textual and archival sources from Bahāʾī, British, and Israeli records and in multiple languages, especially documentation from the Israeli State Archives, I contend that a study of the Bahāʾī community in Mandatory Palestine and the State of Israel, focusing on the rise and fall of its community from 1917 to 1957, would shed new light on the history of the community, the heretofore neglected relations between Jews and Bahāʾīs in the Mandatory era, the situation of the Bahāʾī community in the 1948 War (including the connexions of Bahāʾī renegades to the Palestinian Arab national movement), and the attitude of the young State of Israel towards one of its smallest minority communities, as well as the first diplomatic contacts between Israel and Iran, which revolved around the status of Iranian nationals in the Bahāʾī community .
Ultimately, through a careful examination of these various themes, I argue that both Bahāʾīs and the Yishuv/Israeli leadership have engaged in similar quests for recognition and legitimacy, which I propose are mutual and complementary. Moreover, I make a case for the adoption of such an interdisciplinary approach, which produces results with meaningful implications for those studying Bahāʾī and religious history, Zionism, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and other topics. The fact that the Bahāʾī community in Israel lies unobserved at the nexus of so many prominent fields of scholastic inquiry bolsters my contention that scholars of Israel and of the Bahāʾī faith have much to benefit from sharing in each other’s primary sources and scholarship.
The commander of the Arab-Muslim army at al-Qādisiyyah was Saʿd b. Abī Waqqāṣ, one of Muḥammad’s closest Companions and one of the ‘ten promised paradise’. Yet, in a curious and wholly extraordinary situation, Saʿd never set foot on the battle-field, allegedly due to a humiliating and debilitating illness. Instead, the historical sources focus their attentions on a minor poet-warrior named Abū Miḥjan, whose awe-inspiring acts of bravery in combat restored the confidence of his fellow fighters. Nevertheless, Abū Miḥjan himself was a controversial figure—a drunkard and a coward who pursued a debaucherous life of bacchanalia and chasing women. The utterly unorthodox nature of these two individuals—discerned through a close and careful reading of the texts—stands in stark contrast to their ‘official’ biographies and the efforts by later historians to whitewash the past. Indeed, what emerges is a rare opportunity for the modern historian to observe remarkably-human portraits of these early Muslims.
Furthermore, a broader look at the narrative can identify these and other figures in the historical annals according to mythical archetypes—here, Saʿd is the Hero and Abū Miḥjan is the Trickster. Ultimately, I suggest that the texts represent a partially-developed prose epic, which failed to coalesce into a proper epic due to the very literate nature of early Islamic civilisation. While the emphasis on written Arabic accounts may have forestalled the emergence of an Arab-Islamic epic, the half-historical and half-literary nature of the sources tells us much about the processes of creating and constructing narratives in the first centuries of Islamic society and the identity and self-conception of those fashioning its formative texts.
The commander of the Arab-Muslim army at al-Qādisiyyah was Saʿd b. Abī Waqqāṣ, one of Muḥammad’s closest Companions and one of the ‘ten promised paradise’. Yet, in a curious and wholly extraordinary situation, Saʿd never set foot on the battle-field, allegedly due to a humiliating and debilitating illness. Instead, the historical sources focus their attentions on a minor poet-warrior named Abū Miḥjan, whose awe-inspiring acts of bravery in combat restored the confidence of his fellow fighters. Nevertheless, Abū Miḥjan himself was a controversial figure—a drunkard and a coward who pursued a debaucherous life of bacchanalia and chasing women. The utterly unorthodox nature of these two individuals—discerned through a close and careful reading of the texts—stands in stark contrast to their ‘official’ biographies and the efforts by later historians to whitewash the past. Indeed, what emerges is a rare opportunity for the modern historian to observe remarkably-human portraits of these early Muslims.
Furthermore, a broader look at the narrative can identify these and other figures in the historical annals according to mythical archetypes—here, Saʿd is the Hero and Abū Miḥjan is the Trickster. Ultimately, I suggest that the texts represent a partially-developed prose epic, which failed to coalesce into a proper epic due to the very literate nature of early Islamic civilisation. While the emphasis on written Arabic accounts may have forestalled the emergence of an Arab-Islamic epic, the half-historical and half-literary nature of the sources tells us much about the processes of creating and constructing narratives in the first centuries of Islamic society and the identity and self-conception of those fashioning its formative texts.
A scion of a leading Sāsānian family, Rostam served as the power behind the throne in the empire’s last years. Unsurprisingly, the recording of his death involved great embellishment and little can be determined about the actual circumstances of the incident. Arabic accounts depict his end in a humiliating manner, combining ominous symbolism and humourous elements to convey a didactic message about the overturning of the existing order through the rise of Islam. By contrast, the Shāh-nāmeh recasts Rostam’s death in a heroïc light; killed not by an anonymous fighter, he falls in single combat with the Arab commander in a personification of the clash between the imperial Sāsānian order and the nascent Islamic movement. Furthermore, it attributes his demise not to the direct actions of his opponent but to the appearance of a dust storm, underscoring the theme that fate decreed the fall of the Sāsānians and fortune no longer smiled upon the land of Iran.
A careful examination of the narratives of early Islamic history teaches us much about the mindset of those living in the first centuries following the momentous events of the Seventh Century. By removing the layers of literary embellishment and moralistic exegesis, we can understand better the impact of the death of this Sāsānian dynast. In addition, by comparing the narrative traditions, we can uncover valuable testimony regarding the early development of what might later be described as an Islamic Iranian identity.
Portugal in 1520 and died in Istanbul in 1603. A wealthy and influential Jewish statesman
and diplomat, he worked to stymie Spain at the height of its power by engineering an alliance between England and the Ottoman Empire.
This dissertation was honoured with the Foundation of Iranian Studies Best Dissertation Award in November 2012 and Brandeis University’s Nahum & Anne Glatzer Endowed Dissertation Prize in May 2012.