Premium ContentClick on Premium Content on the Featured navigation bar for information.
The 13th-century Persian mystic Rumi is probably best known in the West for his poetry.
His voluminous verse — with its ecumenical call for peace, love and tolerance — has become a mainstay on the New York Times best-seller list. Even Madonna is a fan.
The Whirling Dervishes of Rumi, in town Wednesday for a performance at the Rose Theater, are among the mystic's most devoted followers. Their vertiginous twirling turns Rumi's verse into action: They constantly turn toward the truth and in the process achieve a state of spiritual ecstasy. Their appearance, sponsored by the Niagara Foundation of Nebraska, was part of a Midwest tour.
According to legend, Rumi chanced by a goldsmith shop one day and began whirling to the rhythm of the hammers. What began as a spontaneous swirl has now become part of an elaborate ritual. That centuries-old ceremony was played out beautifully at the Rose.
The ritual was divided into two parts. Rumi believed passionately in the use of music to reach God. So the first half of the ceremony featured a sextet of musicians making an urgent call to the creator.
It began with a few sparkling notes plucked on a kanun — a zither-like instrument with 72 strings — followed by a vocalist intoning a plaintive chant. His verse unfolded in a seemingly endless series of wailing melismas, which ended only when a ney (a kind of flute) took over the vocalist's lament.
The mood changed abruptly when the kanun and a lute entered the scene, adding a colorful and virtuosic quality to the music. A musician playing the kudüm — a small double kettledrum — then added a driving pulse to the performance. The first half ended with a tintinnabulation of music, song and chant some 40 minutes after it began.
The second half of the ceremony was more solemn, mystical and, yes, even magical.
The six musicians, now donning black cloaks and tan conical hats, marched slowly to the back of the stage. They were followed by six similarly dressed dervishes, who walked in procession and kneeled stage left.
After an extended chant and a long, fluttering improvisation on the ney, the dervishes stood. The time for the sema — the ritual dance to attain ecstasy — was about to begin.
First, the dancers moved several times around the stage at a glacial pace. Their direction was always counterclockwise.
Five of the dervishes then discarded the black cloaks to reveal long, flowing white skirts. They bowed to the sixth dervish — the leader, or shaikh — and the whirling began.
The dervishes started with their arms crossed and their hands on their shoulders. As they turned, their arms stretched out, right palm up, left down. The spinning over time gained speed but remained remarkably fluid, even graceful. How the dervishes were able to maintain their whirl without blacking out from dizziness defies explanation. Certainly, the experience of watching them was hypnotic.
The performance ended with the dervishes walking offstage in silence. Applause was discouraged because this was a religious ceremony, not a show. True enough, but then who needs applause when you've achieved divine ecstasy?
Contact the writer:
444-1076, john.pitcher@owh.com
Copyright ©2012 Omaha World-Herald®. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, displayed or redistributed for any purpose without permission from the Omaha World-Herald.
