Sufi Tradition

The novice kneels on a sheepskin in the kitchen: three days and nights of sustained stillness while the nervous system undergoes its own transformation. This is the 1001-day requirement of the Mevlevi dervish, and it begins at the fire. The transformation of raw into cooked is the alchemical notation for the soul’s refinement: the somatic practice of remembrance rewriting the autonomic baseline before assigned duties begin.

This is the Mevlevi way: a path where the spinning body becoming the prayer was originally trained at the stove. The kitchen served as the laboratory where souls were processed through sustained healing practice. The cook held authority equal to the sheikh because the cook governed the metabolism of the lodge. "I was raw, I was cooked, I was burned" is not a figure of speech: it is a somatic summary of the path.

Food imagery pervades Sufi poetry because cooking mirrors the somatic path of transformation. The raw ingredient enters the fire and emerges changed : its metabolic structure altered, its digestibility deepened. The rough nafs enters the discipline of practice and emerges refined. Rumi summarised his entire spiritual journey in five words: "I was raw, I was cooked, I was burned."

The hidden sweetness

Rumi wrote about fasting with the joy of one who had discovered a secret.

This is the Sufi understanding of hunger: it is not deprivation but somatic preparation. The empty stomach creates space for something other than food to enter : the autonomic quiet that hunger eventually produces becoming a doorway to awareness that satiation closes. When the body stops digesting, the nervous system shifts its regulatory focus. The soundbox must be empty for the music to resonate.

The great Sufi master Ibn Arabi, writing a century before Rumi, called hunger the third pillar of the Divine Way. He distinguished between voluntary hunger, chosen by seekers who impose fasting upon themselves as metabolic discipline, and involuntary hunger, which arrives naturally in states of spiritual intimacy when the body's serotonin and neuropeptide systems shift toward elevated states that reduce appetite. Both serve somatic progress. When the soul draws close to the Divine, the body's need for food simply decreases. The practitioner forgets to eat because they are being fed by something else.

But Ibn Arabi warned against exces. Extended hunger without guidance leads to delusion : the sympathetic nervous system, chronically under-fuelled, producing anxiety and distorted perception rather than clarity. Fasting must be supervised by a master who knows when enough is enough. Guidance guards the path. The point is not to become an ascetic champion. The point is humility, healing.

The Mevlevi kitchen

In the Mevlevi lodge, the kitchen, the matbah, was the heart of the community. The word matbah in Sufi vocabulary means both the physical space where food is cooked and the inner space where souls are transformed. The two meanings are inseparable.

The head cook, the Asci Dede, held responsibility for both the material and spiritual nutrition of the lodge. He managed expenses and menus. He also oversaw the education of novices in somatic awareness through kitchen work. The chief of the cauldron served as spiritual director. The head dishwasher was also a guide for souls. The hierarchy placed healing development at every station, from the one who chopped vegetables to the one who washed the pots : every body engaged in the practice.

A novice's 1001-day training began with those three days on the sheepskin, then proceeded through the eighteen kitchen positions. Each station taught something somatic: patience at the cutting board as an autonomic practice, sustained interoceptive attention at the fire, humility at the sink. The final test was cleaning the toilets. Humility holds healing power. If the novice could do that work without pride rebelling : without the sympathetic activation of wounded ego : he was ready. He had been cooked.

Meals were eaten in prescribed form. The dervishes sat around the sofra, the dining cloth, in silence : the parasympathetic conditions for full digestion established through communal stillness. Silence enclosed the sofra. Food was served into a shared dish. Before eating, each person touched a finger to salt and tasted it, grounding the nervous system in the present moment through somatic sensation. The spoon was placed face-down toward the left, a position the Mevlevis called "in supplication." No speaking. No looking around. No eating from the portion in front of another. When the meal ended, the bowls were cleaned and the space restored. The entire practice was dhikr, remembrance of God, enacted through the body's healing relationship to food.

Langar: food for all

While the Mevlevis developed elaborate kitchen practice, another Sufi tradition addressed the question of hunger more directly. The Chishti order, spreading through South Asia from the twelfth century onward, established the langar, the free kitchen where anyone could eat regardless of caste, creed, or circumstance.

The langar at the Ajmer shrine, established by Moinuddin Chishti around 1192, has served food continuously for over 800 years. The great cauldrons, one donated by Emperor Akbar, another by his son Jahangir, can cook 4,800 kilograms of food at once. Sweetened rice, pilaf, curry. Anyone who arrives is fed. The langar does not ask who you are or what you believe. It feeds you.

The Nizamuddin Dargah in Delhi has maintained its langar for 700 years. During Ramadan, the dastarkhan, the eating cloth, is spread for both suhur before dawn and iftar at sunset. Thousands come each day. During the rest of the year, twice-daily meals continue. The food is funded by donations, niyaz, from devotees. The feeding is considered the highest form of charity.

This practice influenced the Sikhs, who institutionalised the langar as a central practice. Anyone can visit a Sikh gurdwara and eat for free. The tradition traces directly to Baba Farid, a thirteenth-century Sufi saint of the Chishti order. What began as Sufi hospitality became a model for radical equality at the table.

Barakah: blessing in food

Sufis speak of barakah, a blessing power that flows from God through creation. Barakah is not static. It moves. It can be transmitted through sacred places, through holy people, through food that is blessed : and the receiving body must be in the right autonomic state to absorb it. A body in threat cannot receive barakah any more than it can properly digest food.

The Prophet Muhammad said: "Eat together and do not eat separately, for the blessing is in being together." The barakah multiplies when food is shared because communal eating produces nervous system co-regulation that enables deeper metabolic absorption. The same meal eaten alone provides nutrition. Eaten with others in a state of communal safety and presence, it provides something more : a somatic and spiritual dimension that accumulates through community connection.

To increase barakah in food: say Bismillah before eating, the sacred pause that settles the autonomic system. Express gratitude after, the ritual closing that completes the somatic experience of nourishment. Eat with others whenever possible. Choose food that is halal and tayyib, permissible and pure. Eat from earnings obtained through honest work. Share whatever you have. These practices change not just the spiritual properties of the food but the body's capacity to receive and metabolise what arrives.

Ramadan: the month of transformation

The holy month of Ramadan intensifies all Sufi practices. From dawn to sunset, Muslims neither eat nor drink. The fast is obligatory, one of the five pillars of Islam. But for Sufis, it is also an opportunity for accelerated transformation.

The imam al-Ghazali, the great Sufi theologian, described three levels of fasting. Outer form contains inner fire. The ordinary fast is simply refraining from food, drink, and marital relations, following the external rules. The special fast adds abstention from sins of the eyes, tongue, hands, and all other parts, the fast of the body entire. The elite fast is the fast of the heart, abstaining from worldly concerns and anything that might distance one from God. Every thought counts as eating. At this level, thinking about what one will eat at iftar is itself a breaking of the fast.

The suhur, the pre-dawn meal, is eaten before first light. The Prophet called it blessed, and waking for suhur is itself an act of worship : the body roused from sleep to receive nourishment in the liminal darkness before the fast begins, the nervous system in its most receptive pre-dawn state. The quiet hour before dawn, the solitary preparation, the eating in darkness: this is intimate somatic time with the Divine, the circadian boundary between night-rest and day-practice. The musaharati, the Ramadan drummer, walks through neighborhoods calling people to wake. The tradition traces to Bilal, the first muezzin, who roamed the streets of Medina at night.

The iftar, the meal at sunset, breaks the fast. Traditionally it begins with dates : the natural sugars gently raising blood glucose after the day's metabolic depletion, the body receiving sweetness before any heavier nourishment. Sweetness prepares the system. Traditionally followed by the breaking prayer before the full meal, a practice that allows the digestive system to activate gradually rather than receiving a sudden overwhelming food load. The moment of breaking is sacred: the body receives what it has been denied, and gratitude floods in as the nervous system shifts from fasting's alert clarity into the parasympathetic ease of nourishment. The Prophet said there are two moments of particular joy for the fasting person: when they break their fast, and when they meet their Lord. The iftar is a taste of that meeting.

The science of Sufi fasting

Modern metabolic research confirms what Sufi masters observed through contemplative practice: intermittent fasting restructures the body's regulatory architecture at every level. Fat becomes the fuel. When the body fasts for twelve or more hours, it depletes liver glycogen and enters ketogenic metabolism : producing ketone bodies that the brain uses with particular efficiency, generating the mental clarity that mystics throughout history have described as a feature of extended fasting. This is not coincidence or misattribution. The metabolic chemistry of fasting produces neurological states that support the contemplative work Sufis were doing.

The gut microbiome changes with fasting. The microbial populations that thrive on continuous feeding die back during fasts, while populations associated with resilience, repair, and anti-inflammatory signalling increase. The gut-brain axis : the vagthe nerve carrying information from microbiome to brain : shifts its signal composition during fasting, producing changes in mood, clarity, and sensitivity that mystics called spiritual progres. The serotonin available to the meditating dervish after several days of Ramadan fasting differs measurably from the serotonin available to the well-fed, unstressed student.

The Ramadan fast's specific timing : dawn to sunset : aligns with circadian biology in ways that continuous intermittent fasting cannot. The body's circadian clock coordinates hormonal, metabolic, and autonomic systems around the light-dark cycle. Fasting during daylight and eating after sunset reverses the optimal circadian window, which favours morning eating for metabolic efficiency. But the spiritual and social architecture of Ramadan compensates: the community gathered at iftar, the suhur eaten in pre-dawn silence, the nightly tarawih prayers create a complete somatic container that the isolated faster cannot replicate. The tradition includes, as all contemplative food traditions do, the communal conditions that make the system practice viable.

The recipes

These dishes come from Sufi kitchens across the Islamic world, from the lodges of Turkey to the shriness of South Asia. They are meant to be shared : the somatic experience of communal eating central to the practice.

Ashure (Noah's Pudding)

2 hours Serves 12-15 Communal

Ashure may be the oldest dessert in the world. According to legend, when Noah's Ark finally came to rest on Mount Ararat, the survivors gathered whatever remained, wheat, barley, chickpeas, dried fruits, nuts, and cooked it all together in grateful celebration. The name derives from ashura, meaning "tenth," the tenth day of Muharram, when the dish is traditionally prepared.

Before Beginning

Ashure is made in large quantities because it must be shared. Tradition requires giving to at least seven neighbors. Prepare the grains and legumes the night before. Then invite people over, or prepare to bring bowls out into the world.

Ingredients

• 200g wheat berries
• 100g chickpeas
• 100g white beans
• 100g rice
• 300g sugar
• 100g dried apricots, diced
• 100g raisins
• 100g dried figs, diced
• Half tsp cinnamon
• Walnuts, pistachios, almonds
• Pomegranate seeds for garnish

Method

1. Soak wheat berries, chickpeas, and white beans overnight in separate bowls.
2. Drain and cook each separately until just tender. The wheat takes longest (about 1 hour). Reserve cooking liquid.
3. In a very large pot, combine the cooked grains and legumes. Add rice and enough reserved cooking liquid to cover generously.
4. Simmer for 30 minutes, stirring often, until rice is cooked and mixture thickens.
5. Add sugar and cinnamon. Stir until dissolved.
6. Add dried fruits. Continue cooking for 10 more minutes.
7. The consistency should be like thick porridge. Add more liquid if needed.
8. Pour into a large serving bowl or individual dishes. Let cool to room temperature.
9. Decorate generously with nuts and pomegranate seeds. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

The Teaching

Ashure is abundance made visible: ten or more ingredients combining into something that transcends any of them alone. It cannot be made in small quantities; it demands sharing. The tradition of giving to neighbors keeps community alive, creates bonds of obligation and gratitude. What you make, you give away. What you give away, you keep forever.

Red Lentil Soup (Mercimek Corbasi)

35 minutes Serves 6 Breaking fast

The Prophet said that lentils increase sympathy and humility. For this reason, lentil soup is traditionally the first course at Sufi gatherings. It is also the classic iftar soup: what breaks the Ramadan fast after dates, warming the stomach gently before the main meal.

Before Beginning

This is fast food in the best sense: quick, nourishing, satisfying. Keep the ingredients on hand. When you need warmth, when you break a fast, when you want to feed someone without fuss, this soup is ready.

Ingredients

• 200g red lentils
• 1 onion, diced
• 1 carrot, diced
• 1 potato, diced
• 2 tbsp butter (divided)
• 1 tbsp tomato paste
• 6 cups vegetable stock
• 1 tsp cumin
• Salt and pepper
• 1 tsp dried mint
• 1 tsp Aleppo pepper or paprika
• Lemon wedges for serving

Method

1. Rinse lentils until water runs clear.
2. Melt 1 tbsp butter in a large pot. Add onion and cook until soft, about 5 minutes.
3. Add tomato paste. Stir for one minute.
4. Add lentils, carrot, potato, stock, and cumin. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.
5. Cook for 20-25 minutes until lentils and vegetables are completely soft.
6. Blend until smooth. Season with salt and pepper.
7. In a small pan, melt remaining butter. Add dried mint and Aleppo pepper. Let sizzle briefly.
8. Ladle soup into bowls. Drizzle with the spiced butter. Serve with lemon wedges.

The Teaching

Lentil soup is humility in a bowl. The ingredients cost little. The preparation is simple. Yet it nourishes completely. This is the Sufi way: not complexity but depth, not expense but care. The spiced butter at the end transforms everything, a reminder that attention to small details creates large effects.

Ramazan Pidesi

2 hours Makes 2 loaves Ramadan special

This bread appears only during Ramadan. Bakeries make it in the hours before iftar so that it arrives at the table still warm. The distinctive woven pattern on top, the generous sesame and nigella seeds, the soft interior and golden crust: all signal that this is special bread for a special time.

Before Beginning

Time this so the bread comes out just before you need it. Ramazan pidesi is best warm. The first bite after a day of fasting should be this: soft, fragrant, still holding the heat of the oven.

Ingredients

• 500g bread flour
• 7g instant yeast
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 300ml warm water
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 egg yolk for glazing
• Sesame seeds
• Nigella seeds (kalonji)

Method

1. Combine flour, yeast, sugar, and salt. Add warm water and olive oil. Mix to form a dough.
2. Knead for 8-10 minutes until smooth and elastic.
3. Cover and let rise for 1 hour until doubled.
4. Divide dough in half. Shape each piece into a round disk about 25cm across and 2cm thick.
5. Using the fingers, press a woven or diamond pattern into the surface, leaving the edges plain.
6. Place on baking sheets. Cover and let rise for 30 minutes.
7. Preheat oven to 220C (425F).
8. Brush tops with beaten egg yolk. Sprinkle generously with sesame and nigella seeds.
9. Bake for 15-18 minutes until deep golden.
10. Serve warm, torn by hand.

The Teaching

Ramazan pidesi teaches that some things belong to their time. The bread is special because it is not always available. Scarcity creates meaning. The month of fasting creates the context in which this bread becomes sacred, not just food but symbol, not just sustenance but sacrament.

The teaching

What does the Sufi tradition offer the Terra Form§ practitioner?

First: the understanding that the kitchen is a somatic practice space : not a place apart from spiritual work but its very location. The Mevlevis discovered that chopping vegetables can be dhikr, that washing dishes can be dhikr, that every motion can become somatic remembrance. There is no separation between the mundane and the sacred. The autonomic awareness you bring to meditation, you bring to the cutting board. The stove is the altar.

Second: the power of structured hunger. Hunger hollows, then heals. The hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness : the metabolic and autonomic shift that fasting produces, creating the conditions for awareness that satiation forecloses. The music that can only sound in the empty instrument. The Hunger Teacher is central to Sufi practice because hunger creates the somatic space in which something other than food can enter. The fast is not punishment. The fast is healing preparation.

Third: the ethic of sharing as autonomic medicine. Barakah multiplies when food is given away because the act of giving releases the nervous system from the contracted, self-protective state of scarcity into the expansive, regulated state of abundance. The langar tradition shows what radical hospitality looks like: everyone fed, no questions asked, no nervous system status-checking required. The ashure must be shared with seven neighbors. The meal eaten alone nourishes the body. The meal shared nourishes the nervous system and the soul.

Fourth: the somatic transformation through fire. Rumi's summary : raw, cooked, burned : applies to the nervous system as much as to food. Something enters the practice defended and reactive. Fire finds the defended. The discipline applies metabolic and somatic heat. What emerges has been changed at the level of the body's regulatory architecture. This is the promise: you are not stuck in the present autonomic pattern. The fire awaits. Healing transformation is possible.

The pot is on the fire. The ingredients wait. Are you ready to be cooked?

Sufi Food Practice in Contemporary America

When Sufism arrived in America in the early twentieth century, it brought not only mystical poetry and whirling dervishes but practical food wisdom: iftar feasts breaking Ramadan fasts, communal cooking as spiritual practice, and the principle that feeding others is feeding the Divine. Three American organisations demonstrate how Sufi food traditions adapt to Western context while preserving contemplative essence.

The Abode of the Message: Universal Sufism and Communal Meals

The Abode of the Message, established in 1975 in the Catskill Mountains of New York, follows the Universal Sufism teachings of Hazrat Inayat Khan, who brought Sufism to the West in 1910. Inayat Khan taught that Sufism transcends particular religion; it is the mystic heart beating within all spiritual paths. The Abode embodies this universalism, welcoming practitioners from all backgrounds to experience Sufi contemplative practice.¹

Food at the Abode reflects this universal approach. Meals incorporate Middle Eastern, South Asian, and Western cuisiness, recognising that Sufism has flourished in Turkey, Persia, India, and now America. The community gathers three times daily for communal vegetarian meals, preceded by silence and gratitude. During Ramadan, the Abode hosts iftar dinners open to the public, breaking fast together after sunset in traditional Islamic manner.²

The Abode teaches that communal eating is spiritual practice. The cook meditates while preparing food. Servers offer dishes as sacred service. Diners receive meals as blessing. This transforms ordinary dining into what Sufis call zikr, remembrance of the Divine through every action. The kitchen becomes dergah (Sufi gathering place), the meal becomes sohbet (spiritual conversation through presence).

Zaytuna College: Prophetic Eating and Islamic Tradition

Zaytuna College, founded in 2009 in Berkeley, California, is America's first accredited Muslim liberal arts college. While not explicitly Sufi, Zaytuna's founders, Hamza Yusuf, Zaid Shakir, and Hatem Bazian, integrate Sufi wisdom into Islamic education, teaching that outer law (sharia) must be accompanied by inner transformation (tariqa, the Sufi path).³

Zaytuna's food programme emphasises Prophetic eating practices (Sunnah), the eating habits of Muhammad that Sufis study as embodied somatic wisdom. These include: eating with the right hand, beginning meals with bismillah ("in God's name") : the sacred pause that activates the parasympathetic system before the first bite : eating from what is nearest on the shared plate, not filling the stomach to capacity (allowing the body to signal satiation naturally), and expressing gratitude after meals. Each practice shapes the body. What might appear as mere etiquette becomes contemplative technology: practices that regulate the nervous system, support digestion, and cultivate the body's presence in the meal.⁴

The college serves halal meals following Islamic dietary law, but the emphasis is not on prohibition (what you cannot eat) but on consciousness (eating with awareness of food's source and preparation). Zaytuna teaches that halal is not just about avoiding pork and alcohol; it asks whether food was obtained ethically, whether farmworkers were treated justly, whether the earth was honoured in production.

Faculty members teach that Islamic fasting practices : Ramadan's month-long dawn-to-sunset fast, voluntary Monday/Thursday fasts, the three "white days" each lunar month : are autonomic and metabolic training protocols. The body learns it can function without constant feeding, its regulatory architecture becoming more flexible rather than rigidly dependent on frequent meals. Hunger becomes a teacher of somatic resilience rather than an emergency to be immediately resolved. When iftar arrives, the dates and water taste like paradise because the fast has prepared the nervous system to receive nourishment with full presence.⁵

Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi Order: Dervish Kitchen Traditions in New York

The Nur Ashki Jerrahi Order, established in New York City in the 1980s, preserves Turkish Sufi dervish traditions in American urban context. The order follows the Halveti-Jerrahi tariqa (Sufi path), maintaining practices that go back centuries to Ottoman Istanbul, including the sacred role of food in dervish life.⁶

In Turkish dervish lodges (tekke), the kitchen was sacred space. The head cook (aşçıbaşı) held status equal to the sheikh's deputies. Cooking was zikr (remembrance), stirring was meditation, serving was worship. The Nur Ashki Jerrahi order maintains these practices in their Manhattan gathering space, preparing communal meals for zikr circles and teaching that cooking is path to God.⁷

After Thursday evening zikr ceremonies, where dervishes chant Allah's names in circle, building ecstatic somatic energy through rhythmic vocalisation and movement, the community shares simple Turkish meal: soup, bread, perhaps pilaf or vegetables. The meal grounds the energy raised in zikr, returning participants from ecstatic states to ordinary consciousness through embodied somatic sharing : the digestive rhythm of eating completing what the ritual's sympathetic activation began, restoring autonomic balance. Food becomes technology for integration, bringing mystical experience into the healing of everyday life.

The order teaches traditional Turkish Sufi food practices: ashure (Noah's pudding) made during Muharram from whatever ingredients are available, symbolizing abundance from scarcity; lokma (fried dough balls) distributed as charity offering; and the practice of cooking extra food to share with neighbors, embodying the principle that blessing multiplies through generosity.⁸

From Persia to New York: The Living Transmission

These American Sufi organisations demonstrate that the food wisdom Rumi wrote about in thirteenth-century Konya remains viable in twenty-first-century America. The specific forms change: Turkish lokma becomes American potluck, Persian iftar becomes Berkeley dinner. But the principles endure: food as blessing, hunger as teacher, feeding others as worship, communal meal as sacred gathering.

The organizations preserve what makes Sufi food practice distinctive: the emphasis on spiritual state during preparation (cooking while in zikr), the use of fasting to cultivate presence, and the principle that feeding others is feeding God. Whether Universal Sufism at the Abode, Islamic tradition at Zaytuna, or Turkish dervish practice with Nur Ashki Jerrahi, the teaching remains: the kitchen is path, hunger is doorway, and the empty stomach contains hidden sweetness.

Enter the kitchen. Enter the transformation. Enter the hidden sweetness.

The Seven Teachers in Sufi Practice

How each Teacher manifests in this tradition of hidden sweetness.

Sources and Further Reading

Classical Sufi Texts

• Rumi, Jalaluddin. "The Masnavi." Translated by Jawid Mojaddedi. Oxford World's Classics, 2004-2017.
• Ibn Arabi. "Futuhat al-Makkiyya" (The Meccan Revelations). Partial translations various.
• al-Ghazali. "Ihya Ulum al-Din" (Revival of Religious Sciences). c. 1100 CE.
• Attar, Farid ud-Din. "The Conference of the Birds." Translated by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis. Penguin Classics, 1984.

Contemporary American Sufi Communities

• [1] Inayat Khan, Hazrat. "The Sufi Message of Hazrat Inayat Khan." International Headquarters of the Sufi Movement, 1960-1967.
• [2] The Abode of the Message. "Programs and Teachings: Universal Sufism in the West." Abode of the Message, accessed 2026. theabode.org
• [3] Hanson, Hamza Yusuf. "Purification of the Heart: Signs, Symptoms and Cures of the Spiritual Diseases of the Heart." Starlatch Press, 2004.
• [4] Zaytuna College. "Islamic Studies Curriculum: Prophetic Example in Daily Life." Zaytuna College, accessed 2026. zaytuna.edu
• [5] Shakir, Zaid. "Treatise for the Seekers of Guidance." Zaytuna Institute, 2007. [Fasting as spiritual practice]
• [6] Jerrahi Order of America. "The Halveti-Jerrahi Order: History and Practice." Jerrahi Order, accessed 2026.
• [7] Nur Ashki Jerrahi Community. "Dervish Kitchen Practices and Sacred Service." New York Dergah, 2015.
• [8] Özgen, Mustafa. "Turkish Sufi Food Traditions: From Ottoman Tekke to American Dergah." Journal of Sufi Studies 4:1 (2015): 45-67.

Sufi Food & Kitchen Wisdom

• Halici, Nevin. "Sufi Cuisine." Saqi Books, 2005.
• Eren, Neşet. "The Art of Turkish Cooking." Hippocrene Books, 1993. [Includes Sufi kitchen traditions]
• Schimmel, Annemarie. "Mystical Dimensions of Islam." University of North Carolina Press, 1975.

Ramadan & Islamic Fasting

• al-Ghazali. "The Mysteries of Fasting." Translated by Kojiro Nakamura. In "Inner Dimensions of Islamic Worship." Islamic Foundation, 1983.
• Kabbani, Shaykh Muhammad Hisham. "Classical Islam and the Naqshbandi Sufi Tradition." Islamic Supreme Council of America, 2003.