ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb’s Encounter with an Unnamed Monk: From History to Legend

ABSTRACT The Ambrosian Library in Milan has preserved thirteen very interesting folios written in an archaic semi-Kūfī Arabic script, describing an encounter between the second caliph of Islam ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb and an unnamed monk. We demonstrate how the anonymous author of this manuscript was familiar with the ṣulḥ agreements, the covenants of the Prophet Muḥammad, and historical and anecdotal accounts of encounters between ʿUmar and ecclesiastical authorities. We postulate that our author composed his narrative on the basis of his own historical imagination from sources that probably belonged to monastic archives to which he had access. The author aimed to deliver a subtle political message, highlighting the archetypal relationship between a Muslim ruler and a Christian subject living under Islam. Two adaptations of our text have been found in Islamic sources, the first in al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī’s Al-zuhd wa- al-raqāʾiq, and the second in Ibn ʿAsākir’s Tārīkh madīnat Dimashq, which we argue reflect a later re-working of the original narrative.


Introduction
This article analyses a manuscript that records a lengthy conversation between the second caliph of Islam ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭ ṭ āb and an unnamed monk, which to the best of our knowledge has never been studied before. We argue that its legendary elements were inspired by historical texts that most probably formed part of monastic archives in the possession of the Greek Orthodox Church in Greater Syria (al-Shām) or St Catherine's Monastery in Sinai. The anonymous author of the short story seems to have consulted these archives to highlight the archetypal relationship between an ideal Muslim ruler and his Christian subjects.
The author's historical imagination appears to have transformed historical material into legend, perhaps in order to give meaning to the political realities he was facing at the time. He therefore had in mind the theme of peaceful co-existence between Muslims and Christians through mutual recognition of their shared spiritual ethos based on ʿUmar's historical encounters with important ecclesiastical authorities. that these writings may have been copied in a Palestinian monastery such as Mār Sābā but eventually made their way to the Monastery of St Catherine in Sinai, where the anthology was bound. 8 Based on these observations, it appears that our short story originated in an Arabic-speaking Greek Orthodox milieu.
The Arabic text, transcribed in conformity with the original, with the separate folios indicated by corresponding page numbers in square brackets for easy reference, can be found in the Appendix. As the text in our possession is not complete, with the introduction missing and the copyist having made a number of mistakes in the Arabic, we had to revert to the variants of this narrative in al-Khaṭ īb al-Baghdādī's (d. 463/ca 1071) Al-zuhd wa-al-raqāʾiq 9 and Ibn ʿAsākir's (d. 571/1176) Tārīkh madīnat Dimashq 10 to make corrections in the footnotes whenever this was appropriate.

Translation
[1] [… If the] tongue realized the sinful acts for which it seeks forgiveness [from Allah], then the tongue would become dry. The world has never seen joy ever since death came to inhabit it. Whenever the world took a companion as a spouse, death instigated a divorce. The world repeatedly endures a divorce because of death, never completing its waiting period. The way the world manages its affairs with humanity is like a serpent; its surface is very soft but poison is at its core. Men of understanding deal cautiously with it. The youth are allured by the world because of their immaturity. How many of its students wished things from it which they never obtained, and how many of them obtained what they longed for but bitterly suffered because of it. O Commander of the Believers! Know that people's accountability [on the Day of Judgement] will be severe. They will carry unbearable suffering as a heavy load. [2] It will be a terrible day for the reprobates, those who were rebellious on earth, governing according to their whims. [Allah says:] 'I will reward the God-conscious for their patience and good deeds. ' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! I try to satisfy myself with little food and drink but I find myself struggling and yearning for more.' The monk said: 'O Commander of the Believers! The destinies of Allah's servants are in His hands; therefore they cannot go against what has already been preordained. This is because their sustenance and their time on earth has already been apportioned, and know, O Commander of the Believers, that if a person is not satisfied with how Allah manages his affairs by rightly apportioning what is due to him, then [3] he should not take it upon himself to manage his own affairs, for Allah is far superior than men in the management of their affairs.' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! O monk! You hit me where it hurts and you have put me in chains.' The monk retorted: 'No Commander of the Believers! I have only advised you and delivered to you the best of admonishments, of which you have now taken heed!' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! When will the servant finally find comfort?' The monk answered: 'When his foot first enters paradise.' ʿUmar inquired: 'O monk! When will the servant taste the 8 Ibid. 9 Al-Baghdādī, Al-zuhd wa-al-raqāʾiq, 94-7. Abū al-Faraj ibn al-Jawzī (597/ca 1201) reported more or less the same narrative as al-Baghdadī on the authority of ʿAbd al-Wāh  id ibn Zayd; see Ibn al-Jawzī, Al-tabs  ira, 195-6; idem, ʿUyūn alh  ikāyāt, 67-9. 10 Ibn ʿAsākir, Tārīkh madīnat Dimashq,vol. 6,11. sweetness of his closeness to Allah?' The monk replied: 'This can only happen when he purifies his mind so that all that remains is Allah.' ʿUmar asked: 'When does the mind become pure?' The monk explained: 'When man abandons his rebelliousness against Allah and willingly embraces obedience.' ʿUmar said: [4] 'When is thought liberated?' The monk answered: 'Thought is liberated when its focus is only on Allah. ' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! When does the world leave a man's heart so that it can be replaced by wisdom in his breast?' The monk [all of a sudden] screamed and as a result became unconscious. This state of unconsciousness continued for a while until he finally came out of it, saying: 'The world will never leave your heart while you are completely consumed by dīnārs and dirhams (al-dīnār wa-al-dirham). You are pleased looking at the accumulation of wealth and you take all unlawful measures to collect it, desiring its companionship.' The monk then pointed to those surrounding ʿUmar, who then said: 'How can I be an ascetic while still partaking in this world?' The monk explained: 'Limit your worldly aspirations, remember death, and persevere in doing good deeds. ' [5] ʿUmar said: 'O monk! What do you wish for?' The monk answered: 'I only wish for mercy from my Lord.' ʿUmar said: 'What do you complain of?' The monk answered: 'I complain of my sins.' ʿUmar then asked him: 'Shall I bring you a physician [for the physical malaise that is a result of your spiritual state]?' The monk answered: 'The physician has already cured me.' ʿUmar enquired: 'What did the physician say to you?' The monk replied: 'The physician 11 told me: "I do as I please."' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! You are indeed a man of great learning!' The monk responded: 'O Commander of the Believers, even this man of great learning has a flaw, for his guilt will be doubled if he disobeys Allah. How honoured then is the man of great learning before Allah when he fears Him and how remote is he from Him when he loses His favour. ' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! I ask you by the Holy Spirit that you tell me the truth about what I will now ask you, and you must not be afraid of telling me the truth. You have imbued me with fear and placed me in a state of confusion, so you must tell me the truth!' The monk said: [6] 'O Commander of the Believers! I have been in this monastery for 30 years and I have never feared a king. Tell me then what is it you wish to ask!' ʿUmar said: 'I have been put in charge of governing the affairs of the people for an appointed term. I now have a responsibility to protect them (ṣ irtu ʿanhum dhābban) and to call them to the right path. Do you then think that on the Day of Judgement, as a result of my rule, I will be held responsible for their actions or be exempt of their sins?' The monk answered: 'O Commander of the Believers! When the Day of Judgement comes, Satan and the Sultan will be companions of one another and both will be dragged to the same place in hellfire.' ʿUmar then screamed and entered into a state of unconsciousness. ʿAlī then screamed: 'O monk! You killed the Commander of the Believers!' The monk asked: 'Who is that speaking?' 'I am ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭ ālib,' was the response. [7] 'No,' said the monk. 'I merely answered the Commander of the Believers' question!' ʿUmar then came out of his unconscious state, saying: 'O monk! No one has ever admonished me like you have!' The monk answered: 'Was this only a verbal chastisement, Commander of the Believers?' 'No, it was like medicine,' said ʿUmar. 'Some spiritual physicians are gentle and tender, while others are aggressive and violent. Give me more, for my sickness has taken full grip of myself and my wounds are still sore. I need more of your medicine; perhaps Allah will benefit me with it.' The monk answered: 'O Commander of the Believers! Know that your sin has not been erased! Your pleasure in this world is not permanent. Death is always after you, whether this be during the day or night, and very soon you will be in the darkness of the grave, in your tight place of burial! You will then see your good and evil deeds!' ʿUmar screamed and once again [8] entered an unconscious state. As he came out of it, he said: 'I ask you in the name of Him who is going to judge people on the Day of Judgement, tell me what will be after the darkness of the grave and the tight burial places?' The monk answered: 'O Commander of the Believers, a greater and more serious matter will be when Allah reprimands you while you read your book and you are asked about all matters, large and small, injustice and greed. Be very certain, O Commander of the Believers that we and you will have to address on the Day of Judgement many issues and face many rulings because of your injustice and greed that will have been inflicted upon us.' ʿUmar said: 'My household (ahlbaytī i.e. my government) and I disassociate ourselves before Allah (nabraʾū ilā Allāh) from whoever wants to commit an injustice against you. So rejoice at glad tidings, O monk! The protected people have a place that is not for the people of other nations (li-ahl al-dhimma manzila laysa hiya li-ahl al-umam) because of their patience in the face of oppression and their perseverance in their prayers. I heard my beloved [i.e. the Prophet Muḥ ammad] say: [9] 'The protected people (ahl aldhimma) suffered [in the past] grave injustice. They suffered many trials but remained patient. Of them are priests and monks. They are the ones who are secured and honoured on the Day of Judgement. Their spiritual light is above all lights. Whoever is unjust to them, I shall be his foe and an advocate against him (man ẓ alamahum fa-anā khaṣ muhu wa-ḥ ajījuhu ʿalā dhālika).' ʿUmar said afterwards: 'O monk! Enlighten me about the mind!' The monk told him: 'Of course. Wretchedness stands at its root and humility is its only branch. Its fruit is patience and perseverance.' ʿUmar said: 'Tell me, do you need anything?' The monk replied: 'O Commander of the Believers, what shall I do with you? There is nothing that I need from someone, who like myself, is none other than a mere mortal. By Allah, I would be ashamed to ask anything of this world from Him who owns it; how then can I ask a portion of it from him who does not own it?' ʿUmar said: 'I am willing to attend to your needs, keep you company, and spend on you.' The monk replied: 'O Commander of the Believers, really, what shall I do [10] with you? I do not need you to take care of me because I have with me the Sustainer who from His bounties provides for an appointed time, and He is the One who takes away men's souls. He does not burden me and so His creation is incapable of granting me sustenance in the same way that He does.' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! Explain to me your state!' The monk answered: 'How is the state of one who wants to travel but is not ready for the journey, having no supplies to take with him? He will dwell in a grave alone, without a companion, and then he will stand before a just Ruler.' He then looked down and started to weep. ʿUmar then said to him: 'O monk! Why are you weeping?' The monk answered: 'I weep because I wasted a day of my life, having not done a single good deed. I am now remembering how little my sustenance is for this long journey, the final destination being either heaven or hell.' ʿUmar said: 'O monk! What does the servant find in solitude?' The monk said: 'If you taste [11] the sweetness of solitude, you yourself will start to miss it because it is the peak of all riches and happiness, and a respite from people's troubles and their evil (wa-rāḥ a fī mudārāt al-nās wa-salāma min fitnatihim).' ʿUmar asked: 'Why did you decide to clothe yourself in wool?' The monk answered: 'This was necessary for the heart to be fully attentive and to restrain the body from sin.' ʿUmar said: 'Why then did you make it black?' The monk replied: 'This is how those who are afflicted with calamities dress.' ʿUmar commented: 'It seems as though you yourself have recently been afflicted with a calamity.' 'Yes,' said the monk, 'and it is a great calamity.' ʿUmar said 'Inform me about it so that I may console you.' The monk responded: 'O Commander of the Believers, what greater calamity is there than one who has accumulated sins to himself?' ʿUmar and ʿAlī both then said: 'Behold monk! The sharpness of your intellect and your speech are very pleasing [to us]. Tell us then, what is a sign of heedlessness in one's relationship with Allah?' The monk answered: 'To be defiant [12] by committing sinful acts while at the same time asking for forgiveness.' ʿUmar said: 'When is the heart secure?' The monk replied: 'When one's conscience is absorbed with the All-Knowing. Allah will then place in his heart a luminous lamp.' ʿUmar said: 'How can you have full knowledge of religion?' The monk responded: 'Through piety and by abandoning greed.' ʿUmar said: 'I am a stranger in this land [i.e. I am unable to undertake this spiritual journey alone]. I do not know the way, so please guide me for I am lost.' The monk said: 'Woe to you! Do you find loneliness when you are with Allah, knowing full well that He is the one who gives company to anyone who is alone? Indeed, He is the Companion of all those who are alone. His favours cannot be counted and His mercy cannot be forgotten.' The monk then pointed to the heavens and said: 'The path is this way.' The monk then closed the door of his cell and composed this poem which he then recited: We have severed harshly all love for you! And we have left you in the hands of those who seek after you Whatever good I see in you, it is no more than a doe for those who yearn after you By my life! You bring me so many troubles, whenever I rid myself of one, you bring me another! ʿUmar said: 'I was very pleased when I heard this poem from him. I then said to him: "May God multiply those like you among us. I wish there were in our midst more people like you! Allah brought us together in brotherhood, and He is the one who is All-Hearing, answering all prayers."' The monk then prayed for ʿUmar from within his cell, making a very sincere supplication. They parted from each other and this was their conversation. All praise be to Allah, Master of the Worlds. May Allah have mercy upon the one who wrote it, the one who reads it, and the one who said 'Amen'!

Adaptation in Islamic literature
The first and shortest adaptation of this narrative in Islamic literature is in al-Khaṭ īb al-Baghdādī's Al-zuhd wa-al-raqāʾiq and the second and longer one is in Ibn ʿAsākir's Tārīkh madīnat Dimashq. What is most striking is that the conversation that takes place in the recensions of al-Baghdādī and Ibn ʿAsākir is not between ʿUmar and an unnamed monk, but rather between a young spiritual seeker and an unnamed monk.
Though al-Baghdādī and Ibn ʿAsākir both provide chains of transmission for their respective texts, our manuscript has no chain of transmission and is written by an anonymous author. Ibn ʿAsākir records the tale on the authority of al-Sulayṭ ibn Subayʿ, an unknown protagonist from the tribe of Banū ʿĀmir, who begins his account by explaining: I was a trader and most of my trade was at sea. I went to China and met a monk who was following the religion of Jesus son of Mary, peace be upon him. He was a believer and so I called out to him: 'O monk!' and he looked at me from his cell and enquired: 'What do you want?' I asked him: 'Who do you worship?' He said: 'The one who created you and me.' 12 As the encounter takes place in China, the topic of Muslim-Christian relations finds itself outside Islamic territory (dār al-Islām), and the monk al-Sulayṭ meets had presumably not come across the religion of Islam and therefore could not have refused it, making him an acceptable spiritual authority to Muslims. The monk did not reject Islam as a religion; he simply continued to follow the true religion of Jesus the son of Mary and is therefore referred to as 'a believer'.
Al-Baghdādī, on the other hand, records the tale on the authority of another early ascetic called ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd, who is believed to have died around the year 150/ca 767. 13 Abū Nuʿaym (d. 430/ca 1038) provides a lengthy entry on him in his Ḥ ilyat al-awliyāʾ, noting that he had high regard for his asceticism. 14 Though Abū Nuʿaym does not record the conversation ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd had with the monk, he acknowledges, like al-Baghdādī, that it was he rather than al-Sulayṭ who had the spiritual encounter with the unnamed monk. 15 The political dimension associated with our text is clearly missing in both al-Baghdādī's and Ibn ʿAsākir's recensions because they do not mention ʿUmar and ʿAlī, both of whom are well-known political and spiritual leaders in early Islam, and there is no reference to how Muslims should treat the People of the Book.
Though al-Baghdādī's recension does at first glance read as if it is a summary of an early account later recorded by Ibn ʿAsākir, upon closer examination, we realize that this is not the case for there are subtle differences between their texts. To begin with, the sequence of the narrative is not identical in the two accounts. Furthermore, though Ibn ʿAsākir's recension includes many phrases found in our text that are not present in al-Baghdadī's, we also find in al-Baghdādī's recension a passage not found 12 Ibid. 13 Al-Dhahabī, Siyar aʿlām al-nubalāʾ, vol. 6, 180 14 Abū Nu'aym, H  ilyat al-awliyāʾ, vol. 6. 155. in Ibn ʿAsākir, as when ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd asks the monk: 'I said: "What is the greatest thing that the faithful servant gets from solitude?" The monk said: "Respite from people's troubles and their wickedness (al-rāḥ a min mudārāt al-nās wa-alsalāma min sharrihim)."' 16 The monk's response to ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd is echoed in our text in folio 11 [213a], lines 2 and 3.
It therefore appears that none of the three recensions can be classified as a copy or summary of the other, for each of them exhibits independent features. Nevertheless, the similarities between them are so discernable that they all seem to have derived from some original prototype, which was re-worked in various ways. It is difficult to tell which of the three recensions is closest to the original, but if we are to take them at face value, our text is clearly the earliest because it seems to have been written in a cultural milieu where the demarcation line between Islam and Christianity was more fluid.
If the recensions of al-Baghdādī and Ibn ʿAsākir are re-workings of the original prototype, one small clue can be highlighted here to support our premise, at least in making the case that Ibn ʿAsākir's is the most recent of the three. We find that our text contains the phrase 'al-dīnār wa-al-dirham', thereby using archaic terminologyi.e. dīnār and dirhamwhich is found in the Qur'an (Q 3.75; 2.20) and which goes back to the early days of Islam. Al-Baghdādī's recension also uses the word darāhim (plural of dirham) but Ibn ʿAsākir's reverts to the more recent term al-fulūs [i.e. money], which indicates that it is the latest recension of the three.
Our text makes no allusion to the type of Christianity our monk followed. As we do not have the complete text in our hands, there is no way for us to know if the original manuscript had any references to any specific Christology. This is a possibility for Ibn ʿAsākir's recension does have an explicit mention of Jesus in the narrative: The Messiah son of Mary says: The faithful servant will never attain the rank of the truthful or 'the station of those who are near (darajat al-muqarrabīn)', or be known in the Kingdom of Heaven until he leaves his wife a widow without divorcing her, his children orphaned without him dying, and he seeks the abode in which the dogs [i.e. the deprived] live. Then, by following that path, will he be known in the Kingdom of Heaven. 17 The above saying of Jesus is not found in the New Testament and its source is not clear. All we know is that the monk in Ibn ʿAsākir's narrative was a follower of Jesus the son of Mary, implying he followed a Christology very close to that of Islam. Our author is silent about our monk's Christology, but gives us a clue when he states that he was dressed in 'black', which appears to be an allusion to the cassock monks of the Eastern churches wear until this day, suggesting perhaps that he officially belonged to the Greek Orthodox Church.
Ibn ʿAsākir's recension describes seven spiritual stations, the highest of which is 'those who are near'. It cannot therefore be a coincidence that the station described in the saying attributed to Jesus finds an echo in Q 3.45, where God describes him as 'one of those who are near (min al-muqarrabīn)', linking his spiritual station to that of the monks and the Sufis who later came to refer to him as the 'Seal of Spiritual Masters' (khātim al-awliyāʾ).
concerning the human intellect and the relationship between the human self and the absolute.
Our author uses the ascetic imagery associated with ʿUmar to define the latter's religious psyche. We find his portrayal of the second caliph paralleled in a number of biographies of saints, in which ʿUmar occupies a prominent position. For example, Abū Nuʿaym records ʿUmar's ascetic virtues in Ḥ ilyat al-awliyāʾ, describing him as one who renounced the luxuries of this world, 'cutting himself off from those who chose to indulge in luxury and entertainment (mufāriqan li-man ikhtāra al-tanaʿʿum wa-altarfīh)'. 18 Abū Nuʿaym presents numerous images of ʿUmar as a pious acetic who had 'two black lines on the side of his cheeks because of tears' 19 and who, after reciting his daily readings of the Qur'an, 'would choke, cry and fall unconscious, staying in his home until people would visit him because they thought he was ill'. 20 After he was stabbed, ʿUmar lamented that, if he had the choice, he would not have taken the role of caliph, saying: 'I neither wanted reward from this office nor to take responsibility for its heavy load.' 21 Our author holds no animosity towards ʿUmar. On the contrary, not only is ʿUmar acknowledged as Commander of the Believers by both ʿAlī and the monk, but he is also an ascetic, though unlike the monk, is still undergoing a learning process in his spiritual journey. 22

Authorship
The authorship of our text cannot be easily determined. One could speculate that the author was a Christian, but at no point do we find Christological creedal utterances in his vernacular. The closest we get is ʿUmar asking the monk in folio 5 [210a], line 12, to answer his question truthfully by 'the Holy Spirit'. The text makes a brief allusion to the punishment of the grave in folio 7 [211a] lines 12-13, and folio 8 [212b] lines 2-3, which is an Islamic article of faith. He also appears to know that ʿUmar was often dependent on ʿAlī's advice during his caliphate, and the text ends with the very Islamic formula 'wa-al-ḥ amdu li-llāh rabb al-ʿālamīn', suggesting the author was either a Muslim or a Christian who was well acquainted with the religion of Islam.
Whoever wrote this text had to deal with the reality of Islam and he seems to have recognized its validity, though he saw it at as being on a lower spiritual plane than Christianity. Even though the author quotes neither the Bible nor the Qur'an, he sees both traditions as sharing common spiritual truths and he deliberately ignores the specific dogmas of each faith. Perhaps our author had a very particular understanding of Islam whereby he did not see it to be in contradiction to Christianity or his own Christology.
If our author was a Muslim, it seems unthinkable that he would have written this account at a time when the distinction between Islam and Christianity had become firmly established. We may therefore speculate that he would have composed the text at a time when it was considered acceptable for Muslims to ask the People of the Book whenever they were in doubt about religious matters, as in Q 10.94. Such an attitude 18 Abū Nuʿaym,vol. 1,38. 19 Ibid., 51. 20 Ibid. 21 Ibid., 52. 22 For a good discussion of ʿUmar's spiritual prowess, see Hakim, 'ʿUmar b. al-Hattāb'. would have certainly been perceived as heretical in al-Baghdādī's time, particularly when it involves someone as eminent as ʿUmar seeking spiritual advice from a monk. ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd's death was in 150/ca 767 and, if we assume that he was the disseminator of our story's very first prototype, we should presume that his narrative first came into existence during the Umayyad or early ʿAbbāsid period. If so, then al-Baghdadī's version, though attributed to ʿAbd al-Wāḥ id ibn Zayd, would in fact be a reworking of the latter's initial narrative.
Had the author been a Christian, we can assume that, in addition to the monastic archives to which he had access, he may have wanted to incorporate in the figure of ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭ ṭ āb, another Islamic persona whom he admired, namely ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz (d. 101/720). In that context, we may here briefly mention the spiritual advice that a monk had given to ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz: O Commander of the Believers! Be like what the poet said: 'Strip yourself of this world because when you came into it you owned nothing of it!' ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz then left him, repeating to himself, 'Strip yourself of this world because when you came into it you owned nothing of it!' 23 The author of our manuscript, it seems, wanted to emphasize to his audience that an ideal Muslim ruler, such as ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭ ṭ āb and perhaps ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, should accept spiritual guidance from monks. He wanted to remind those in power not only that they should fear God and adopt frugality in their lives, but also that Christianity still had a valid role to play in the caliphate.
Our author was certainly conversant with both Islam and Christianity, suggesting that he had rich archival material at his disposal. The friendly relationship he depicts between ʿUmar and 'Alī, with the latter acknowledging the second caliph as Commander of the Believers, implies that he was living in a Sunni milieu. Our author's knowledge of the monastic life suggests that he was associated with the Orthodox monks and the early Sufi ascetics. Had our author embraced an early form of Sufism that reflected his own religious experience and orientation, particularly if he had converted to Islam from Christianity, then he may have considered Jesus's new covenant as having been perfected by that of Muḥ ammad, whom he acknowledged as the 'Seal of the Prophets' (khātim al-anbiyāʾ). We may therefore speculate that our author was either an Orthodox Christian who accepted Islam as a valid religion, or an early convert from Christianity who desired to preserve the monastic tradition within the fold of Islam in continuation with his old tradition.

Identifying the monastic archives
This section of the article will attempt to identify the monastic archives to which our author had access and which he used when composing his short story. As we shall demonstrate, it appears that he had at his disposal copies of covenants ascribed to the Prophet Muḥ ammad and to ʿUmar that were in the custody of the Greek Orthodox Church. As a discussion of the authenticity and textual accuracy of these documents has been dealt with elsewhere, it is not our concern here. 24 Needless to say, the ṣ ulḥ agreements issued during the caliphate of ʿUmar to the Christians of Syria, Lebanon, Jordan and Palestine most probably reproduced some of the vernacular that the Prophet employed in his official decrees. 25 Additionally, the author probably had in mind historical encounters between ʿUmar and well-known ecclesiastical authorities such as Sophronius Patriarch of Jerusalem (d. 638 CE). All of these clues indicate that the author had probably been a keeper of manuscripts in an important monastery at some point in his life.

The covenants of the Prophet and of ʿUmar
The covenants of the Prophet Muḥ ammad and of ʿUmar have always been an integral part of monastic tradition. Though they were regarded as forgeries by Louis Cheikho 26 and Addai Scher, 27 these church leaders did nevertheless note that they were aware of copies of the covenants in the archives of various churches and monasteries, all bearing a great deal of similarity between them. Their charge of forgery, however, has never been made by the Greek Orthodox Church, which to this day attests to the authenticity of the Prophet's 'Covenant with the Monks of Mount Sinai', which is said to have been written down by ʿAlī.
Nektarios Pelopidēs the Cretan (d. 1676 CE), who was Archbishop of Sinai in 1661 and then Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem from 1661 to 1669, defended the historicity of the Sinai Covenant in his Epitomē tēs Hierokosmikēs Historias, or 'Compendium of Sacro-Secular History', which he wrote between the years 1651 and 1661. 28 The Prophet's 'Covenant with the Christians of Najrān', said to have been written down by Muʿāwiya, which was discovered in 265/878-879, 29 is first recorded in the Chronicle of Seert. 30 It appears to have been accepted as historical by the Assyrian Church of the East and the Syriac Orthodox Church, 31 with copies of it having made their way into the archives of the Greek Orthodox Church. 32 It appears that at least one covenant of the Prophet and another of ʿUmar were known to our anonymous author, and that he also had a general awareness of the ṣ ulḥ agreements and some of the encounters between early Muslims and the ecclesiastical authorities of their time. This is evident from the way ʿUmar tells the monk in folio 6 [211b], lines 4-5, that he has a responsibility to protect his subjects, employing the phrase 'ṣ irtu ʿanhum dhābban'. The word 'dhābban' and its variants is repeatedly used in the Prophet's covenants with the monks of Mount Sinai and with the Christians of Najrān, where he uses phrases such as: 'I protect them [of all harm] (wa-adhubb ʿanhum)'; 33 'the Muslims are to protect them (wa-an yakūn al-muslimūn dhubbāban 24 For a detailed discussion of the authenticity of the covenants, see Zein and El-Wakil ʿanhum)'; 34 and if a Christian seeks protection from a Muslim, it is obligatory for the Muslim 'to protect him (wa-al-dhabb ʿanhu) '. 35 Similarly to the covenants, our manuscript employs the word 'sulṭ ān' before it gained official status during the Seljuk, Ghaznavid and Ottoman periods. The Prophet's 'Covenant with the Christians of Najrān', like the 'Covenant with the Monks of Mount Sinai', states that whoever breaks the covenant will become 'subject to the divine curse, regardless of whether he be a sulṭ ān or an ordinary Muslim'. 36 Later the Prophet explains: 'Travellers, foreigners and visitors who are not resident in the land are not liable to pay the kharāj or the jizya except for those who have inherited land over which the sulṭ ān has a monetary right.' 37 Interestingly, the word 'sulṭ ān' is also used in the letter of David, the Metropolitan of Damascus, which we find in our anthology. 38 However, the key passage in the narrative, which leaves little doubt that the author was inspired by a covenant of the Prophet, is found in folio 8 [212b], line 10, to folio 9 [212a], line 5. On folio 8 [212b], lines 11-12: ʿUmar explains that he and his household, which in this context is to be understood as his government, 'disassociate ourselves before Allah (nabraʾū ilā Allāh) from whoever wants to commit an injustice against you'. This concept of disassociation (barāʾa) is taken from a covenant of the Prophet, and we find in that regard the 'Najrān Covenant' stating that whoever violates it will become 'free of the protection of Allah and His messenger ( fa-qad barīʾa min dhimmat Allāh wa-dhimmat rasūlihi)'. 39 ʿUmar then tells the monk on folio 8 [212b], lines 12-14, that the 'the protected people have a station that the people of the [other] nations do not have (li-ahl al-dhimma manzila laysa hiya li-ahl al-umam)'. Interestingly, this expression is found in the Prophet's 'Covenant with the Jews of Khaybar and Maqnā', where he literally states: 'you shall not go down to the station [i.e. past custom] of the protected people (wa-lā tanzilūn manzilat ahl al-dhimma)'. Our author is unlikely to have been familiar with a phrase found in a Jewish document and so we may assume that it was perhaps used in one of the covenants attributed to ʿUmar of which our author was aware, or that it derived from one of the original ṣ ulḥ agreements issued by one of his generals.
Our author is clearly aware of how the Prophet held the monks in high regard in his covenants, and ʿUmar is thus quoting him in folio 9 [212a], lines 2-4, as saying that they 'are secured and honoured on the Day of Judgement. Their spiritual light is above all lights.' He then informs the monk in lines 4-5 that the Prophet had told him that 'Whoever is unjust to them, I shall be his foe and an advocate against him (man ẓ alamahum fa-anā khaṣ muhu wa-ḥ ajījuhu ʿalā dhālika).' A very similar expression can be found 33  at the end of MS 695, which is the earliest long recension of the 'Sinai Covenant' in the Monastery of St Catherine: If anyone from among all the Muslims and believers oppresses a dhimmī and breaks and violates the covenant, I shall be his foe on the Day of Judgement (wa-man ẓ alam dhimmī wa-naqaḍ ā al-ʿahd wa-qaṣ ahu kuntu khaṣ mahu yawm al-qiyāma). 40 A similar statement can be found in covenants issued by the Prophet to Jewish and Magian communities. 41 As the word 'ḥ ajījuhu' only appears in Jewish covenants, we may once again assume that our author had at his disposal a copy of a covenant of ʿUmar or a ṣ ulḥ agreement that included this word in one of its clauses.
As the Greek Orthodox were the predominant group with whom the early Muslims had to deal during the early conquests, and with copies of covenants having been preserved to this day in their archives, we may assume that our author had access to one of these rich archival collections.

Historical and anecdotal accounts of ʿUmar's encounters with monks
Muslim and non-Muslim sources report a number of positive encounters between ʿUmar and various monks. Anecdotal accounts of these interactions would have been known to our author, such as the historic meeting between ʿUmar and Sophronius. As Daniel Sahas notes, 'No source takes Sophronius away from the city; they all bring ʿUmar to the city. He camped at the Mount of Olives, and that is where he met the Patriarch.' 42 The details of their meeting were recorded by Theophilus of Edessa (d. 785 CE) 43 and Eutychius Patriarch of Alexandria (d. 940 CE). 44 Not only is the encounter reported as having been cordial, but Sahas importantly observes. the mutual acknowledgement and use of each other's official title which describes the most essential manifestation of authority and quality of leadership (ẓ uhūr) in each community. ʿUmar knew that he was dealing with a Patriarch, and Sophronius with a 'Commander of the Faithful' (amīr al-muʾminīn), a title which had been assumed first by ʿUmar. 45 Furthermore, Sahas explains that it is in the context of their encounter that it was 'the handing of an akhtnamē, or covenant of rights, to Sophronius by ʿUmar that sealed the agreement between the two leaders', 46 in what was an important turning point in the history of Jerusalem, influencing later reports of what happened during their meeting in the Holy City.
Though we have argued that our anonymous writer in all probability had access to Greek Orthodox archives, he may also have had in his library accounts of other friendly encounters between ʿUmar and various ecclesiastical authorities. For example, the Life of the Jacobite monk Gabriel of Qartmin (d. 648 CE) also records an affable meeting between the two men when ʿUmar granted him a covenant of protection: This lord Gabriel went to the ruler [aḥ īd shūlṭ ānā] of the sons of Hagar, who was ʿUmar bar Khaṭ ṭ āb, in the city of Gezirta. He [ʿUmar] received him with great joy, and after a few days the blessed man petitioned this ruler and received his signature to the statutes and laws, orders and prohibitions, judgments and precepts pertaining to the Christians, to churches and monasteries, and to priests and deacons that they do not give the poll tax, and to monks that they be freed from any tax [madattā]. Also that the wooden gong should not be banned and that they might chant hymns before the bier when it comes out from the house to be buried, together with many [other] customs. This governor [shallīṭ ā] was pleased at the coming to him of the blessed man and this holy one returned to the monastery with great joy. 47 A more detailed account of the encounter and the contents of the original covenant were brought to light by F.N. Nau, who translated folios 99-102 of MS 375, a Syriac manuscript kept at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, and which has the following concluding remarks: [The covenant ended with:] And whoever does them harm will be cursed: He will be subject to judgement and punishment in this world, and in the hereafter he will suffer in hellfire and bear a great ordeal. This is because he violated our commands and the commands of the Prophet of God Muḥ ammad.
After that St Gabriel took the covenant bearing these commands and returned overjoyed to his monastery, praying for ʿUmar. He thanked God who made him find mercy next to him. Praise be to God who exalts those of His servants who honour His name! To Him be glory, honour and adoration, now and forever, throughout the centuries! Amen. 48 The prayers that our unnamed monk and St Gabriel offered for ʿUmar are not isolated motifs. After ʿAmr ibn al-ʿĀṣ entered Alexandria and issued a covenant of protection to the Coptic Patriarch Benjamin, he asked him to 'pray for me, that I may go to the west and to Pentapolis, and take possession of them', 49 after which 'the holy Benjamin prayed for ʿAmr'. 50 The spiritual and material welfare of the Muslims is thus intrinsically linked to their kind treatment of Christians, which if they fail to extend, would result in their incurring the wrath of God. The motif of a friendly encounter between ʿUmar and a monk, coupled with the issuance of a writ of protection, does exist in Muslim sources. Ibn ʿAsākir relays on the authority of Zayd ibn Aslam, from his father Aslam the freed slave of ʿUmar, this most curious hagiographical account of ʿUmar's meeting with another unnamed monk during the pre-Islamic period: I went out with thirty people from Quraysh to conduct some business in Greater Syria (al-Shām) during the period of ignorance (al-jāhiliyya). When we departed from Makka, I remembered that I had forgotten to finish some pending task, so I told my companions that I would join them later. I finished my business in Makka, and by Allah, when I reached one of the markets in Syria, I encountered a Roman officer (baṭ rīq). He took me 47 Hoyland, Seeing Islam, 123. Also see Gabriel of Qartmin, Life, XII, 72. 48  by the neck, and though I tried to free myself from his grip, I was not able to. He then took me inside a church where there was a heap of dirt. He then gave me a shovel, an axe and a bucket, and he said to me: 'Remove this dirt from here!' I began pondering what I should do until he returned at midday. He was wearing a transparent silk garment through which I could see his whole body. He said to me: 'I see that you have not done what I asked you to do.' He then punched me with his fist in the middle of my head. I became very angry, so I took the shovel and hit him on the forehead with it until parts of his brain spurted out. I then took his body and buried him under the dirt. I walked out not knowing where to go and I started wandering for the remainder of the day and into the night. When morning came, I found myself outside a monastery and so I decided to take some rest by its shade.
A man from the monastery came out and said to me: 'O servant of Allah! What are you doing sitting here?' I told him: 'I have lost my companions!' He responded: 'You have gone off track! You also look afraid! Come in for some food and to take a rest!' I entered and he brought me food and drink. He was also kind to me. He then looked at me from top to bottom as though he was examining me. He then said: 'Hearken my words! The People of the Book know that no one on earth is more knowledgeable about scripture [i.e. prophecy] than me. Your description fits that of the one who will expel us from this monastery and defeat the inhabitants of this city.' I replied to him: 'O man! You are getting carried away!' He then asked me: 'What is your name?' I responded: 'ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭ ṭ āb.' He said: 'By Allah! Undoubtedly! It is you who are going to be our lord! Write then a [guarantee of security] for my monastery and its belongings.' I responded: 'You have done me a great favour. Do not spoil it now [by making it conditional]!' The monk said: 'Write for me on a leather parchment a guarantee of security (kitāban). There is no harm in this. If indeed you will become our lord, then you will have fulfilled our desire. If you are not destined to rule over us, then there is no harm in you issuing that guarantee of security anyway.' I then said to him: 'Bring me [the leather parchment].' I then wrote on it and sealed it. He then gave me some money, new clothes and his jenny with its saddle and bridle. The monk said: 'Listen to me carefully now.' I said: 'Carry on.' He explained: 'Ride on this jenny for it belongs to a great monk. Whenever you pass by a monastery, its people will come out to feed her and give her water. When you reach your destination, let her go and she will return to whence she came.' I then rode on the jenny and whenever I came across a monastery, its people came out to feed her and give her water, until I finally came across my companions who were returning to the Ḥ ijāz. I then gave her a sign that I no longer needed her, and so she returned to the monastery.
When ʿUmar reached Greater Syria (al-Shām) during his caliphate, that same monk who was now abbot of the Monastery of Lentils (dayr al-ʿadas) 51 came to him with the guarantee of security (al-kitāb). When 'Umar saw him he was surprised. The abbot then said to him: 'Now you must fulfil your promise!' ʿUmar responded: 'It is now no longer an obligation on myself or even on my father. You now have an obligation to all Muslims.' ʿUmar was narrating the whole story to us, from the beginning until the end, after which he said: 'Will you provide hospitality to the Muslims who are passing by, guide them on the roads, and take care of their sick if they come to you? If you do, then we will abide by that [guarantee of security].' The abbot said: 'I will do that, O Commander of the Believers.' ʿUmar then agreed to abide by its conditions. 52 The Roman officer, representing the political establishment, stands in stark contrast to the monk, who embodies the religious establishment, and this is evident in their respective treatments of ʿUmar. The implicit message could be that ʿUmar was opposed to the Roman political elite during his caliphate, but not to the religious establishment.
Though the details of our story and Ibn ʿAsākir's account are certainly legendary, they nevertheless have in common reports of cordial dealings with monks along with direct or indirect references to the covenants, meaning that they were most probably influenced by a historical reality. Our story and Ibn ʿAsākir's account should therefore be viewed as fictionalized anecdotes based on historical encounters now turned legendary.

The archetypal relationship between a Muslim ruler and a Christian subject
The author of our text was clearly writing with the background of the covenants and the archetypal relationship between the ideal Muslim ruler and loyal Christian subject in mind. The conversation between ʿUmar and the unnamed monk was composed in the genre of the master-disciple relationship, reflecting deep emotional involvement between the two men. The account alludes to the monk's seniority and wisdom, for he tells ʿUmar: 'I have been in this monastery for 30 years.' The highly theatrical recollection, which results in the monk fainting once and ʿUmar twice after him, depicts not only their mutual trust and respect, but also the close spiritual bond that unites them. After all, both ʿUmar and the monk had been brought 'together in brotherhood' by God.
It is clear that, when our story was composed, Muslim rule over Christian lands had now become firmly established and a relationship that would sustain permanent co-existence had to be forged. Implicitly, the author was reminding Muslims that it was their duty to preserve the dignity of the People of the Book, ensure the continuity of their religion, and protect them from all harm until the end of time.
The motif of mutual recognition is present with the monk acknowledging ʿUmar as Commander of the Believers and he in turn honouring the monk's standing by always respectfully addressing him as 'ya rāhib [O monk!]'. In addition to the covenants and historical narratives of ʿUmar's encounters with monks such as Sophronius and Gabriel of Qartmin, our author may also have had at his disposal an early version of the 'Legend of Sergius Baḥ īra', which also describes the archetypal relationship between Muslim rulers and Christian subjects. The master-disciple relationship between Baḥ īra and the Prophet is intrinsically linked to the covenants: Then he [Muḥ ammad] said to me: 'If I succeed in this matter, O blessed monk, you can desire anything you like from me and I will fulfill all your needs and wishes in the world.' And I [Baḥ īra] said to him: 'I do not want anything from you from this world, neither little nor great, nor do I have any wishes except that you care for the situation of the Christians during the days of your rule, as well as the rule of your people, because they are feeble. They have been commanded to be very humble and patient. Amongst them are poor monks who have renounced this world and detest its fine and pleasurable things. They have resigned from it and have fled to the desert and the wilderness and have secluded themselves in search of their Creator. So prevent them from being harmed, troubled, molested or attacked by any of your people, and command them that no kharāj or jizya be taken from them, because they have rejected this world and they care neither for women nor for children, nor for money. They do not seek any of this at all. And I also desire from you that you order them that none of the Christians be oppressed or wronged. If you take care of this, I expect that God will lengthen your rule and make your power last. 53 The Prophet then says to Baḥ īra: It is my duty to order my people not to take the jizya or kharāj from monks, to respect them and to fulfill their needs and to care for their circumstances. And I will demand from them, with regard to all the Christians, that they do not to act unjustly towards them, and that their ceremonies will not be changed, and that their churches will be built, and that their heads will be raised, and that they will be advanced and treated justly. And whoever is unjust to one of them I shall be his foe on the Day of the Judgment (wa-man ẓ alama aḥ adan minhum kuntu khaṣ mahu yawm al-qiyāma). 54 The Prophet's promise then took the form of a covenant with Baḥ īra, who later recalled how he obtained 'a treaty from him, as well as promises of his care throughout the days of his rule'. 55 Some members of the religious establishment at the time of the early conquests seem to have accepted the coming of the Muslims as a pre-ordained act of God, an attitude that is found in the earliest testimonies about the emergence of Islam. The Catholicos Isho'yahb III (d. ca. 39/659) of the Assyrian Church of the East noted 'how God has given control over the world' 56 to the Arab Muslims, and John Bar Penkāyē (writing in 67/687) explains how their coming was a 'divine deed'. 57 Although our author may have shared the same attitude about the early conquests, and regarded them as a punishment from God for the sins of Christians, he may also, like Nektarios Pelopidēs many centuries later, have seen in them an element of deliverance through the issuing of the covenants.
The archetypal relationship in which the ideal and just Muslim caliph is represented by ʿUmar, and the monk represents the loyal Christian subject who has been granted freedom to practise his religion in return for accepting Muslim rule, is all part of a recurring literary motif that the author had in mind. The theme of justice is thus apparent in the divine messages that are grasped by ʿUmar and the monk after their respective spiritual experiences. The monk's spiritual ecstasy was triggered after 'Umar asked him, 'When does the world leave a man's heart so that it can be replaced by wisdom in his breast?' After returning from his unconscious state, the monk tells ʿUmar: 'The world will never leave your heart while you are completely consumed by dīnārs and dirhams. You are pleased looking at the acquisition of wealth and you take all unlawful measures to collect it.' The monk then says to ʿUmar: 'O Commander of the Believers! When the Day of Judgment comes, Satan and the sulṭ ān will be companions of one another and both will be dragged to the same place in hellfire.' This stark warning had such an impact on ʿUmar that, when he experienced his first spiritual ecstasy, he said to the monk: 'No one has ever admonished me like you have!' When the monk reminds ʿUmar of death, it propels him into his second spiritual ecstasy, where he makes an allusion to the punishment of the grave, asking the monk, 'What will be after the darkness of the grave and the tight burial places?' 53 Roggema, Legend of Sergius Bah  īrā, 454-7. Translation slightly edited by the authors. 54 Ibid., 456-7. Barbara Roggema's translation has been edited in El-Wakil, '"Whoever Harms a Dhimmī"', 7. 55 Roggema, Legend of Sergius Bah  īrā, 527. 56 Penn,When Christians First Met Muslims,35. 57 Ibid., 88.
The difference between their spiritual experiences is quite telling. The monk, as the master, returns from his unconscious state to advise the second caliph, demonstrating his concern for others, while ʿUmar, in contrast, returns from his spiritual states to focus on himself, his troubles and his conduct as ruler. The spiritual experiences that they have are therefore very different, and it appears that our author wanted to emphasize the heavy load ʿUmar had to carry as ruler and the extent of his accountability on the Day of Judgment if he were ever to act unjustly.
The archetypal relationship in our narrative could therefore provide us with a new perspective on how the author viewed the covenants. Being on a high spiritual level, the monk does not need favours from the political ruler of his day, telling 'Umar: 'I have never feared a king.' The monk emphasizes that a true believer should only rely on God for his protection and, rather than seeking protection from another human being, the monk brings to ʿUmar's attention the theological notion of divine providence from folio 9 [212a], line 8, to folio 10 [213b] line 4.
ʿUmar indicates that he is ready to meet all of the monk's needs when he asks him: 'Do you need anything?' and when he says: 'I am willing to attend to your needs, keep you company, and spend on you', just as he was willing to meet all of Gabriel of Qartmin's requirements when he said to him: 'Ask whatever you want.' 58 This motif echoes the Prophet's willingness to meet all of Baḥ īra's demands when he informs him that he is ready to 'fulfil all your needs and wishes in the world'. Although the monk makes it clear to ʿUmar that he does not need anything from him because it is God who will ultimately protect him and all Christians, the covenants, ṣ ulḥ agreements and guarantees of security may, in the author's mind, have been the instruments that would lead to that realization.
By leading ʿUmar into his two spiritual ecstasies, the monk makes him 'confess' his policy as ruler and, in effect, to renew the Prophet's covenant with the Christians before his 'new' spiritual master. ʿUmar, and by extension all Muslim rulers after him, are duty bound before God to keep this commitment. This subtle political declaration is summarized by ʿUmar when he stresses that Christians now living under Islam will never have to face persecution again. ʿUmar's concern of potentially failing as a just ruler consisted in breaching the covenants that Muslims were religiously bound to honour, and which would have grave spiritual consequences if ever they were violated.

Conclusion
Of the three texts we have identified that follow the genre of master-disciple relationship, our narrative appears to be the earliest. It is a historical legend having most likely been written by someone who had at one point been a keeper of manuscripts in a monastery in Syria or Palestine, or in St Catherine's Monastery. To what extent his archival material was historically accurate is of course subject to debate. Needless to say, our anonymous author was inspired by accounts of ʿUmar's asceticism, his encounters with Christian monks, ṣ ulḥ agreements issued during his caliphate, and the covenants of the Prophet. The essence of the archetypal relationship between the ideal Muslim ruler and a Christian subject, which was documented in the Prophet's encounter with Baḥ īra, was once again 58 Nau, 'Un colloque ', 278. recorded in the narrative of ʿUmar and the unnamed monk. Our author's motive was most probably to attempt to establish the parameters for co-existence between Christians and Muslims, perhaps at a time when the rights of the People of the Book were slowly becoming compromised in his day, prompting him to write a narrative that would deliver a subtle political message.

Disclosure Statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Funding
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