This is a rudimentary translation of articles from my book “Two that are One – the story of Omar Rais and the Shadeli Yashruti Zawiya in Acre”. While is far from ideal, it serves a purpose given the significance of the topic and the distinctiveness of the information contained. I have chosen to publish it in its current state, with the hope that a more refined translation will be available in the future.
The story of Omar Rais Part one
Discussing Omar in past tense feels unnatural to me; in my eyes, he’s still very much present, albeit in a different form. A photograph of him rests on my desk, and I find myself conversing with him occasionally, feeling certain that his essence has guided the creation of this book. The pivotal question revolves around the existence of an afterlife, for its affirmation would significantly alter our perspective. Omar was a skeptic about the promise of heaven, firmly believing in seizing life in the present. He colorfully argued, “Don’t expect virgins in heaven; you’re lucky to find even one. If that’s what you’re after, look no further than this world.” However, the concept of an afterlife isn’t necessarily about virgins. Sufis, Omar among them, tend to communicate in allegories rather than straightforward declarations. For them, the afterlife signifies the mystical union between the lover and the beloved, with God. Omar eloquently expressed this as, “I am both the beloved and the lover, two entities merged into one.”
In Sufism, it is believed that upon death, an individual reunites with God. Humans bear witness to God’s deeds in the world, just as God observes human actions. Post-mortem, there are celestial witnesses who speak on the deceased’s behalf, and it is said these witnesses may adopt the visage of the person they testify about. A captivating tale surrounds the Prophet Muhammad’s death, wherein he instructed his followers to place his body upon a camel and await a stranger who would direct them to his final resting place. This came to pass in the city of Medina, where a figure, face obscured by a scarf, guided the camel to its destination. Upon being asked to reveal himself, the cloak was removed, revealing the guide to be none other than the Prophet Muhammad himself, leaving those present in awe.
Omar Rais served on the management committee of the Shadeli Yashruti order in Israel, overseeing the refurbishment and development of the Shadeli Yashruti Zawiyas in Acre and Tarshiha. Omar often remarked that for the adherents of the Shadeli Yashruti order, Acre and Tarshiha were akin to Mecca and Medina, given that the order’s founders are interred in Acre and it originated in Tarshiha. The primary endeavor that engaged Omar for over two decades was the restoration of the Zawiya in Acre. However, for Omar, the Zawiya represented more than just a physical locale; it was a dream and a vision to establish a spiritual hub for the order’s followers, Acre’s inhabitants, and people globally, essentially crafting a slice of paradise on earth.
Omar envisioned the Zawiya in Acre as a venue for diverse activities, including lectures and classes, attracting many visitors in addition to serving as a sacred religious site. He was attuned to and influenced by energies and unseen realms, emphasizing the importance of fostering a sanctified atmosphere within the Zawiya. This environment, he believed, would spiritually energize everyone who entered. Omar often remarked that conventional notions of a spiritual center were like “mixing a pear with an apple.” Hence, he was adamant about implementing his unique approach, which he understood as the wish of the sheikh, deemed the most effective for channeling spiritual energies. This distinctive perspective sometimes made it challenging for others to grasp his intentions.
Omar aspired to transform the Zawiya in Acre into something akin to the “Kaaba of the heart,” not merely in a physical sense but also through a spiritual and energetic dimension, fostering a sense of brotherhood among all individuals. A Sufi tale illustrates this concept, recounting how, during their pilgrimage to Mecca, devotees circled the Kaaba and prostrated before it. In a divine vision, God’s hand lifted the Kaaba from its foundation, revealing to those with “open eyes” that they were, in fact, bowing to one another. This revelation highlighted the belief that the divine resides in humans rather than inanimate objects. Omar’s faith in humanity was profound, embodying this lesson.
For Omar, it was Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti in Jordan who embodied the Kaaba, rather than the Zawiya in Acre. His actions were carried out at the Sheikh’s behest, yet paradoxically, this connection sparked an individual spiritual awakening within him. Omar’s essence was a fusion of the spiritual journey, his bond with the Sheikh, and the refurbishment of the Zawiya. This blend was what made him uniquely captivating. His thought process diverged from the norm, allowing him to perceive beyond conventional boundaries, possibly even transcending time and space.
From 1995 until his passing in 2018, Omar played a pivotal role in the Shadeli Yashruti order’s activities in Israel, particularly in the restoration of the Zawiya in Acre. His efforts encompassed hosting both group and individual visits to the site (open to order members as well as the general public, with a notable emphasis on the Jewish community), managing public relations, engaging in legal disputes over the order’s assets, supporting community projects in Acre. From time to time Omar shared his dreams of traveling to distant places, notably discussing with me his desire to visit the Pamir Mountains in Central Asia. He occasionally pondered his life post-project, imagining a potential new role within the Order, possibly in South America. Yet, it ultimately became evident that Omar’s heart and soul were inextricably linked to Acre.
Two years prior to Omar’s death, with the majority of the project nearing completion, the renovations at the Zawiya unexpectedly halted. This pause was preceded by the collapse of a Palm tree, a landmark planted by Sheikh Ali Nur Al-Din Yashruti himself, which had endured for 150 years, becoming a defining feature of the Zawiya’s skyline. Shortly after this event, Omar’s health declined; he was admitted to the hospital for a prolonged series of treatments. Initially, half of his foot was amputated, followed by half of his leg, due to an infection that began in his thumb and spread throughout his body. This seemingly minor infection, triggered by a simple injury to his toe, ultimately led to his demise.
In the Mevlevi order in Turkey, there’s an account of Jalal al-Din Rumi’s – the founder of the order cook, who was once tasked with heating water for the participants of the ‘Sema’ (the Whirling Dervishes ceremony). Facing a shortage of wood for the fire, he resourcefully placed his own toe into the flames. As the ceremony commenced, he was observed standing with the toe of his right foot concealing the burnt toe of his left foot. This act has come to symbolize sacrifice, service, and humility, embodying the virtue of concealing faults. Henceforth, Whirling Dervishes adopt a stance where one toe covers the other before commencing their dance or while performing service.
Omar’s infected toe became a poignant emblem of his dedication and sacrifice. Over the last twenty-two years of his life, he dedicated himself to the Zawiya, foregoing a salary and remaining steadfast in his commitment to the Sheikh and his teachings. While some may argue that his prolonged service contributed to his illness and ultimately his demise, I see it differently: I believe his service actually prolonged his life. Had it not been for his dedication, he might have met an early death similar to his brother Munzer, who passed away suddenly in 2012. Beyond merely extending his life, his service enriched it with purpose and meaning, enabling him to fulfill his destined role in this world.
Karma or Destiny
Acre embodies a profound paradox, blending sanctity with squalor, affection with brutality. Historically, it has been a site of suffering and executions, battlegrounds, and political upheavals. Yet, simultaneously, it has served as a cradle for spiritual movements such as the Shadeli Yashruti order and the Baha’i faith, and a home to influential figures like Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, as well as a destination for notable visitors like Francis of Assisi. As one of the world’s most ancient cities, Acre’s very name echoes the Canaanite belief in the eternal struggle between light and darkness.
In Canaanite mythology, at the outset of human history, a legendary conflict unfolded between the malevolent forces, personified by the deities “Death” and “Yam” who sought to inundate the earth and revert it to primordial chaos, and the benevolent entities represented by “Baal,” “Anat,” and “Ashtoret.” This pivotal confrontation between light and darkness transpired in Acre. During this clash, the deities of good triumphed over evil, declaring a boundary to their advance with the words “So far!” – “Ad Ko!” in Hebrew, from which the name Acre is believed to derive.
The Shadeli Yashruti Order celebrates Acre through soul-stirring Nasheeds, songs of devotion and reverence. An example of such a Nasheed extols, “Acre is the thing you long for, O Lord, all the longing is for her. She received Ali (the founder of the Order), may God grant her a good life.” This suggests that the followers of the Order hold Acre in high esteem, viewing it as a place blessed by their founder’s presence and by divine favor. However, the relationship between the Order and Acre is nuanced, indicating that while the city is deeply cherished, the perception of it by the Order’s adherents is complex and layered, acknowledging both its historical and spiritual significance alongside its challenges.
During a conversation with Omar about the concept of karma, which involves the belief in reincarnation and the idea of returning to this world to amend past misdeeds, it wasn’t clear if Omar fully embraced this notion. However, our discussion shifted towards what might be described as karmic events linked to the Zawiya complex and the imposing citadel tower of Acre above it. In 1868, Bahaullah, the founder of the Baha’i faith, and his family were confined within that tower. A tragic accident occurred a year after their arrival in Acre when his son, Mirza Mahdi, fatally fell from the tower’s roof, precipitating Bahaullah’s release from captivity. Concurrently, Sheikh Ali Nur al-Din Yashruti made his return to Acre with the Sultan’s backing, initiating the construction of the Zawiya compound. His presumed heir was his son, Muhai ad-Din Yashruti, who died prematurely. Subsequently, Ibrahim Yashruti, another son, was called from Tunis to succeed him as the Sheikh’s heir.
The untimely deaths of Mirza Mahdi and Muhai ad-Din Yashruti carry a sense of karmic purpose, similar to how Omar’s demise at the relatively young age of 60 may appear. Viewed externally, his death resonates as a karmic completion, signifying the departure of a profound soul from the earthly realm after achieving its destined role. By the end of his life, Omar had reached several significant achievements: he had built a family, having married and raised children, and had significantly contributed to the refurbishment of the distinguished Zawiya complex in Acre, ensuring its future impact. His efforts in restoring the Shadeli Yashruti order’s Zawiya in Tarshiha, reclaiming the order’s assets in Acre and throughout Israel, among others, stand as testament to his dedication. Furthermore, Omar impacted the lives of countless individuals through engagements, and his support for various causes, organizations, and people—both overtly and discreetly—cemented his status as a respected and influential public figure.
Omar’s accomplishments spanned multiple domains, from biochemistry to philosophy, showcasing his multifaceted talent. He played a pivotal role in expanding and nurturing the business interests of his extended family, becoming a cornerstone of both its commercial and its social-political endeavors. A worldly figure, Omar traveled extensively, lived abroad, and immersed himself in a broad spectrum of knowledge and experiences that few have the opportunity to encounter. However, the most transformative moment of his life occurred upon meeting the Sheikh, an encounter that steered him onto a spiritual journey he devotedly followed for many years.
Often in life, we find ourselves searching for what is absent, seldom reflecting on our accomplishments. There’s a saying that the last to realize it’s in water is the goldfish, and Omar was much like that goldfish. In the upcoming chapter, we will shift our focus to celebrate the milestones in Omar’s life. This perspective is one of gratitude, recognizing the blessings, valuing the experiences Omar encountered, and appreciating his existence in this world, especially his journey along the Sufi path.
Childhood in Acre
The Rais family relocated from Gaza to Acre in the 1930s. Omar’s great-grandfather, a prosperous merchant conducting trade with Lebanon and Syria, passed away when he was quite young. Consequently, Omar’s grandfather was raised by his aunt. Seeking to escape an arranged marriage to a woman he did not favor, he moved to Acre at the age of 20, and Omar was named in his honor. The Rais family continues to be held in high esteem in Gaza to this day, with members of the family having served as mayor and as the director of the Education Bureau.
Upon arriving in Acre, Omar’s grandfather immersed himself in commerce, a path his son Shukri Rais—Omar’s father—would also follow, further advancing the family enterprise and becoming a distinguished merchant. Shukri Rais married Laika Kurdi, who hailed from a Kurdish Turkish lineage. Omar’s maternal grandfather originated from Karabaker in Turkey, while his grandmother was from Izmir. The grandfather served as a land steward for the Turks before becoming an officer in the British police. They owned a palace near Mizra. Thus, the union of Omar’s parents symbolized a significant alliance between the scions of local aristocracy and the descendants of the Ottoman administrative elite.
Omar entered the world in 1959, becoming the first son after an elder sister and another sister who passed away at four months old. His birth was a joyous occasion for his grandfather, who marked the event by sharing sweets with all of Acre’s inhabitants. A year later, Khader was born, followed by Ahsan three years after, Munzer eight years subsequently, and finally, the youngest sister, Hoda, arrived twelve years after Munzer.
Omar was known for his calm and gentle nature. Legend has it that as an infant, he slept through the night, never once disturbing his parents’ rest. Though he might have awakened on his own, he kept it to himself. Omar was a tender-hearted boy. While his brother Khader pursued athletics, becoming an Israeli boxing champion, Omar dwelled in realms of spirituality and literature. His passion was for reading; he would immerse himself in books, later sharing the tales and knowledge he gleaned with his mother, often in the post-lunch hours. He spoke of Andalusia and far-off places with such fervor that time seemed to warp around them, with two hours feeling mere minutes in the grip of Omar’s vivid storytelling and zeal.
The Rais family lived collectively in a house reminiscent of a kibbutz setup, encompassing grandparents, uncles, parents, and children under one roof. The siblings shared a single room, while the parents had another, leaving little room for solitude. The children were each other’s keepers, fostering strong bonds among themselves. The family was introspective, valuing time spent at home working over attending social gatherings. Omar, as a child, was notably independent; his mother recalls he rarely sought companionship or material things.
Religiosity in the traditional sense was not a hallmark of the Rais family. Their devotion was expressed through acts of generosity and leading ethical lives. Post-independence war, they were a family of high social and economic standing in the Arab community of Acre. Their ventures included a burgeoning wedding dress business, a successful clothing store, and eventually, they expanded into operating a paint factory.
Omar embodied his family’s ethos of benevolence and compassion from an early age. His mother recounts a childhood instance when, upon receiving pocket money, Omar promptly gave it to a distant relative living at the end of their street. In adulthood, during a visit to Amman with a friend, they encountered a beggar at a crossroads seeking alms in the name of God. After his friend dismissed the beggar, Omar sought him out, apologized, and handed him 20 dinars. To his friend’s exclamation of disbelief, Omar retorted, emphasizing the sanctity of the request made in God’s name.
Until ninth grade, Omar’s academic performance was unremarkable, not particularly standing out in school. However, a transformative shift occurred in ninth grade, propelling him to excel in various subjects, notably mathematics, which attracted many of his female classmates to seek his tutoring. Furthermore, from tenth grade onward, Omar became active in organizing trips and activities, became known for his guitar skills, and developed a particular affinity for Beatles songs.
Upon completing his high school education, Omar pursued a degree in petrochemical engineering at Be’er Sheva University, where he distinguished himself academically. He then secured employment at the Petrotrum factories located near Acre. Omar quickly ascended to the position of chief engineer, overseeing other engineers and numerous workers. Known for his considerate nature, he would ensure that all his team members had eaten before he took his lunch and never left his shift until all tasks were completed. Despite his success in this role, Omar harbored aspirations of autonomy and entrepreneurial ventures.
In pursuit of this dream, he and his brother Munzer embarked on a venture to produce methanol for car body workshops in Yarka. Omar was responsible for assembling the machinery and developing the production formulas, while Munzer handled the sales. However, the business struggled to find its footing, and the brothers faced significant challenges. Compounded by the early loss of his father—a figure to whom Omar was deeply attached—the cumulative stress led Omar into a personal crisis. As a consequence, he made the decision to step back from his current engagements and spend a few years abroad, seeking respite and perspective.
During this period, Omar’s brother Khader began engaging in local politics with the Labor Party and even secured a seat on the Acre City Council. Omar, who supported his brother’s political endeavors, became well-regarded by Eli de Castro, the mayor of Acre. The mayor frequently chose him to lead various municipal delegations around the world. It was after one such delegation to Austria that Omar decided to stay there, marking the beginning of a six-year residence abroad from 1984 to 1989.
This phase in Austria represents a less documented chapter in Omar’s life. According to his sister, it was likely during these years that Omar’s interest in spirituality and philosophy deepened. Upon concluding his time abroad in the seventh year, Omar returned home, diving back into the expanding family business.
During the nineties, Acre experienced significant growth and development, with the Rais family playing a pivotal role in the city’s progress. Omar, leveraging his expertise in petrochemistry, suggested constructing a factory to manufacture paints that would rival Tambur, and this vision was realized. The family united behind this endeavor, erecting a sizable two-story factory in the village of Mahar, covering 3,600 meters and providing employment for approximately a hundred people. Omar took charge of producing the materials and color compounds, a duty he maintained even amidst his commitments at Zawiya. After concluding his work at Zawiya, he would visit the factory to prepare the materials for the following day. It was only in 2017 that the family’s business ceased its paint production activities, transitioning to focus solely on marketing and distribution.
According to his sister, during that period, Omar was refining his personal philosophy. He engaged in deep thought, and once he arrived at a conclusion, it was difficult to debate with him. His extensive knowledge and his skill in imparting that knowledge convincingly to others were notable. He played a supportive role in his brother’s electoral campaign and made a significant impact on people. Additionally, he assisted his mother with the management of the bridal shop, accompanying her on several trips to Cyprus to purchase wedding dresses for their store. They were warmly welcomed wherever they went, and he was universally adored. His mother recounted how he always looked after her, exhibiting patience when necessary. For instance, she recalled a time she spent seven hours in a beauty salon for a treatment; Omar waited without a word of complaint, patient as ever.
The fateful meeting
In 1995, Omar was instrumental in arranging a delegation from Acre to Amman to meet with Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti and members of the Shadeli Yashruti order, as well as possibly other notable individuals, including members of the royal family. This event represented the first delegation dispatched by the Acre municipality after the Israel-Jordan peace accords were concluded in the Arava. Though Hatem Saravan, who personally knew the Sheikh, officially headed the delegation, Omar was the driving force behind the organization of the trip, working in close collaboration with Mayor Eli de Castro, who was eager to initiate the delegation. Omar’s brother Khader, who served on the city council, was also part of this delegation.
Upon reaching Zawiya in Amman, the delegation aimed to meet the Sheikh. Omar had expected to meet a traditionally dressed figure with a beard and headscarf but was instead met by a clean-shaven man in Western clothes. This encounter struck a chord with Omar, making him feel a deep connection with the man who seemed so familiar. Omar felt a love in his heart he never experienced before.
The delegation was invited to dinner at Zawiya, where there was a large table around which all the people were seated. The Sheikh divided the places and Omar did not have a seat, and he got stressed, thought to himself: “What does he think, that I am a little boy?” When they were all seated, the Sheikh said to him: “You come sit here next to me”, and from then on it all started. The Sheikh asked Omar to serve the other people and so it was, from the very first meeting between them Omar became a sort of “dervish” who serves the house, this was his Zawiya (turn), he became the Sheikh’s disciple and later also his representative in various matters in the country. After a few months he took upon himself the oath of allegiance to the order, the Mubayaah, from the hands of the Sheikh.
Before his encounter with the Sheikh, Omar had primarily drawn spiritual sustenance from books. However, the Sufis believe that “books are only alive for those already awakened, while the Sheikh brings life to the disciple.” With Omar’s initiation as a disciple, a beam of living spirituality broke through the darkness enveloping his world.
Following this pivotal meeting, Omar and the Sheikh in Jordan developed a deep and ongoing connection within the Tariqa, with Omar frequently traveling to Amman (often accompanied by one of his brothers) to carry out the tasks and follow the guidance of Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti. Omar’s profound love for the Sheikh transformed his life completely. He abandoned his previous engagements, relinquished his plans, and veered off the anticipated path of his life’s journey, embarking on a new, unfamiliar, and possibly daunting direction.
Prior to his encounter with the Sheikh, Omar had little interest in Sufism, despite having heard of it. In preparation for his significant journey to Amman, he did some reading on the subject. However, upon meeting the Sheikh, Omar experienced an immediate, profound connection, feeling an inexplicable draw and love towards him. He was unable to rationalize this sensation but found it impossible to dismiss his emotions. The first words spoken to him by the Sheikh were, “I have been waiting for you for a long time,” which effectively broke down any barriers of reservation Omar might have had. According to Omar’s wife, Faten Rais, it was actually the Sheikh’s wife who conveyed to Omar that “the Sheikh has been waiting for him for a long time,” with an additional caution to “be careful.” It’s possible that both expressed this sentiment. Regardless, it served as a powerful opening to Omar’s spiritual journey.
The early Sufi mystic Al-Bastami once reflected on his spiritual journey, acknowledging four misconceptions he held at the outset: he believed he remembered God, knew God, loved God, and sought God. However, upon reaching a deeper understanding, he realized that it was God who first remembered him, knew him, loved him, and sought him out, prompting Al-Bastami to seek God in return.
In a similar revelation, it becomes clear that the Sheikh was not the one waiting for Omar; rather, it was Omar who had been unconsciously waiting for the Sheikh. This awaited encounter served as the catalyst for Omar’s awakening and profoundly transformed his life.
Following Omar’s pivotal meeting with Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti, he diverged from his previous life’s trajectory to embark on a spiritual path as a murid (disciple) of the Sheikh. Omar chose to relinquish his business pursuits and academic studies, dedicating himself instead to serving the order and embracing the Sufi practices. In Sufism, a center of spiritual learning is known as a Zawiya, a term that translates to “angle,” symbolizing a change in the direction of flow. This meeting with the Sheikh represented Omar’s “angle,” signifying a transformative shift in his life’s direction. This shift was facilitated by Omar’s openness to his emotions, despite his inability to fully comprehend them.
The great Sufi Sheikhs emphasize that acceptance, modesty, and surrender constitute the foundational qualities of the Sufi journey. This form of surrender isn’t about humiliation; it’s a surrender that embodies acceptance and fulfillment, encapsulating the essence of ‘Islam’. Omar’s surrender to the Sheikh illustrates this principle, raising the question of whether such a spiritual commitment is accessible to everyone. Is the path of spirituality reserved for a select few, for individuals of exceptional virtue, or for those who possess the Aqeedah (the correct belief), as some suggest? This inquiry probes the inclusivity of the spiritual quest and whether it’s a universal possibility or a calling for a distinct few.
Omar often remarked that “every Prophet has qualities, but not everyone who possesses qualities is a Prophet.” This suggests a belief in predestination regarding who is bestowed with divine grace and who isn’t, implying that it’s a matter of fate. He believed that everyone has their own unique journey and relationship with the divine, acknowledging that while we all carry a spark of divinity within us, not everyone is meant to walk the spiritual path. Omar emphasized that it’s not our place to decide who is or isn’t destined for this journey. When questioned whether the path was meant for all humanity, his response was “not necessarily,” highlighting the challenges and complexities of the Sufi way by expressing a personal longing for the simplicity of his life before embarking on the path, saying, “I wish I wasn’t Sufi, it’s not an easy road. My life was much simpler before.”
In my view, which is a bit different to that of Omar. Everyone is entitled to connect with the Sacred, to fulfill their purpose in the world—a purpose for which the soul arrives here, a journey inherently meant for every individual. Thus, each person has the capability to enact a transformative shift or pivot (Zawiya) in their life towards a spiritual path, suggesting that everyone is, in essence, destined to adopt the “Sufi” way.
Omar’s transformation was profound, yet isn’t it true that we all are in anticipation of a positive shift in our lives, hoping for someone who has “been waiting for us for a long time,” perhaps a rescuer in shining armor? There have been moments in my life when I’ve longed for a place that seems to have been awaiting my arrival, yet somehow I either overlook or cannot reach it. I sense they are waiting, but I forget or fail to recall, and am left with a nagging worry that I’m missing out, disappointing others. And what if these feelings are more than just dreams?
During my initial visit to Zawiya in Tarshiha, Omar guided me to the southwest room. Somehow, I instantly recognized it as the Sheikh’s room. There was an unmistakable sense of presence within those walls, possibly due to the significance the Order’s members place on it. It felt as though something there was awaiting me, perhaps a fragment of the Sheikh’s spirit. Assuming he truly is the axis of time, as his followers assert, then his essence isn’t confined by time, space, sect, religion, or nationality.
The anticipation of the Messiah is a fundamental aspect of Jewish belief, where the collective wait has spanned centuries. However, what if it’s the Messiah who is actually waiting for us? Perhaps he is ever-present, yet unnoticed and unseen by us. Instead of expecting a figure on a white donkey, might the Messiah manifest as a subtle presence among us?
My understanding suggests that a person’s Zawiya—the pivotal change in life’s direction—entails shifting from a reliance on concepts and metrics tied to the physical realm to adopting a set that’s harder to articulate with ordinary language, as they pertain to the intangible. This transition poses the question: How do we navigate this turn from a conventional, three-dimensional level of consciousness to a transcendent state beyond time and space, thereby connecting with the Sacred?
Omar’s transformative experience upon meeting Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti is revealing. Following this pivotal encounter, those close to Omar noticed profound changes in him: he became more patient, more forgiving, and his perspectives shifted dramatically. It was as if he had undergone a metaphorical death and rebirth, with the Sheikh’s impact on him being profound yet ineffable. Omar’s emotional response when discussing the Sheikh, tears filling his eyes even in the final weeks of his life, underscores the depth of their bond. His sister Huda recalls a particular instance highlighting this spiritual connection: she shared a dream with Omar, wherein she felt an electric sensation during a hand contact with the Sheikh. Omar interpreted this experience as “Hadrah” – a term signifying a deep spiritual connection with the essence of the Sheikh.
Following his profound spiritual pivot, or Zawiya, Omar dedicated his remaining years to the restoration and rejuvenation of the physical Zawiya of the Shadeli Yashruti order in Acre. For Omar, the significance of this endeavor extended beyond mere architectural revival; it encompassed the myriad activities and interactions that unfolded within and around these spaces. He was deeply attuned to the energies of the Zawiya, attributing them to the sacred presence of the Holy Sheikhs interred there, as well as to the spiritual resonance and influence established by Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti.
Omar firmly believed in the potential to establish a space in Acre that could profoundly impact everyone who visited—members of the Order, Acre residents, and guests from across the country and globe—serving as a pivotal moment in their lives. He recognized that constructing a physical venue alone was insufficient; it was essential to foster events, conversations, community engagement, gatherings, and dialogues, including interactions with the Jewish community. Omar, in collaboration with Hatem Harouf and other members of the order, aspired to create a haven in Acre inspired by Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti and dedicated to realizing his vision. However, Omar was convinced that achieving this goal required him to draw nearer to his own truth, which would in turn provide the necessary guidance and inspiration on how to develop this place.
We all live in anticipation of positive events, nurturing the hope that somewhere, someone has long been awaiting our arrival. We yearn to believe in something transformative, something we can wholeheartedly embrace and follow. Omar underwent such a transformative experience (his conversion) and was driven by a desire to share this profound change with others.
Omar grasped that for genuine spiritual engagement to occur within the Zawiya, beyond mere physical construction and activities, it was imperative to first make room for the spiritual dimensions within himself. This involved practicing the Order’s rituals, connecting with nature, and doing the Zikr. Additionally, it required creating an open external space where spiritual events could manifest, and signals from the outside could reveal themselves. Indeed, around the Zawiya, there were instances that appeared truly miraculous, at times drawing skepticism and resistance from people. Yet, Omar did not let these challenges deter him, maintaining his focus on his vision of the place.
Essentially, Omar aimed to replicate the transformative spiritual experience of his own turning point—his encounter with Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti—within the confines of the Zawiya he helped develop in Acre. He envisioned that visitors, through their openness and engagement with the space, might undergo a similar profound experience. Omar endeavored to establish a truly Sacred space, embodying all that the term implies, in the belief that he was thereby executing the Sheikh’s wishes. From the moment Omar joined the Order, his fate became inextricably linked to the Zawiya in Acre project. This connection was not only in a physical sense, through his leadership in the site’s renovation, but also in more spiritual and abstract ways.
I hope that through learning about Omar’s journey and visiting the Zawiya he played a pivotal role in restoring, you, the readers, might also experience a glimpse of the profound transformation he underwent, and perhaps be inspired to explore your own spiritual path. While Sufis may believe that spiritual energy does not transmit through books, I think, deep down, Omar might have also questioned this belief. Books have the power to facilitate life’s processing, aid in the completion of internal journeys, and teach us the value of solitude with our thoughts and emotions, making us comfortable in that solitude. They have the potential to transform individuals. Through a compelling book, the essence of one person can touch another. At times, reading a book feels akin to encountering a friend.
Through reading a book, you can briefly connect with the author or the individual whose story is being shared. Omar forged many friendships through the books he read and the ideas he pondered upon. I trust that as you read this book, you will come to know him, enjoy his company, and perhaps even develop a friendship with him.
The woman and the children with him
Faten Rais was born in 1971 to a family from Jerusalem that later relocated to Jordan. Her father hailed from the Dajani family, owning a residence in Wadi Joz, while her mother belonged to the Husseini family. Both lineages were prominent within Palestinian aristocracy. Faten’s grandmother, affectionately known as Shukran, was deeply involved in the Shadeli Yeshruti order, having been a disciple of Sheikha Siti Fatma, who served as the Mukadem (representative) of the order in Jerusalem. Shukran instilled a devotion to Sufism in her daughters and granddaughters, including Faten. Thus, from a tender age, Faten began frequenting the Zawiya in Amman and became a part of a close-knit circle of women associated with Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti’s wife. Together, they engaged in weekly study sessions, lessons, and discussions on various texts.
While still in her youth, Faten underwent the Mubayaah, the formal initiation ceremony into the order, wherein the believer pledges allegiance to the order and its Sheikh or representative, typically by holding their hand. As she matured, Faten pursued a career as an English teacher and had no intentions of marrying.
In 1996, Omar embarked on a two-day visit to the Zawiya in Jordan alongside his brother Khader and several others to discuss the renovation plans. Although Omar had not yet been formally appointed to the order’s executive committee, he was already actively involved. Upon their arrival, the Sheikh’s wife extended an invitation to Faten, her sister, and mother for a meeting followed by lunch. This encounter marked Faten’s first introduction to Omar, and she later revealed that the meeting seemed prearranged. The following day, they were formally introduced, and the Sheikh’s wife informed Faten that Omar would be her future husband, a message similarly conveyed to Omar by the Sheikh himself.
Faten was initially both shoked and elated by the news, and they were given time to discuss their feelings privately. When the Sheikh’s wife inquired about Faten’s impression of Omar, she promptly expressed her agreement. The events unfolded swiftly thereafter. Within a month, Omar and his family traveled to Jordan, where they became engaged in November 1996. Just a month later, Faten and her family journeyed to Acre to become engaged. Their union was formalized in May 1997 through marriage.
While their marriage began as an arranged union, over time, Omar and Faten’s bond grew stronger, evolving from mutual respect and appreciation to genuine love. With the arrival of their daughters, Sirin and Rina, Omar felt a profound sense of family and belonging. As young children, Omar would often bring them to the Zawiya, fostering a connection to their spiritual heritage from an early age. Rina’s earliest memory of the Zawiya involved Omar lifting her up so she could touch the roof. On one occasion, during Christmas festivities, Omar arranged for the choir from the Terra Santa school to perform at the Zawiya, where Rina, then a fourth-grade student, participated. Curious about their family’s spiritual practices, Rina once asked Omar if they were Sufis, to which he responded that he was “in the process.”
Sirin recalls that Omar had a morning ritual of meditation. Each day, he would quietly sit for about half an hour to an hour before starting his day, usually by the sea, with Rosh Hanikra being a favored spot. During these moments, he preferred solitude and deep reflection, remaining undisturbed. On Saturdays, he would take the girls on nature outings, often to Goren Park, and occasionally involved them in gatherings across the country or ceremonies at the Zawiya. When Sirin turned eight, Omar took her to meet the Sheikh in Jordan, explaining the concept of “Hadrah,” a method to connect with the presence of Muhammad’s light through the Sheikh, an experience that left a profound impact on her. Both Sirin and Rina note that Omar seldom shared his problems, always maintaining an outward appearance of calm, but they could intuitively sense his emotional state.
During their literature exam preparations, Omar engaged his daughters in analyzing poems, using this as a platform to impart teachings about Sufism, particularly focusing on the concept of “Hadrah Muhammadiya,” the presence of Muhammad’s light through the Sheikh. Omar often emphasized that this love is the driving force behind the existence of the world. For instance, he interpreted “The Coffee Reader,” a poem by Abdel Halim Hafez, as a Sufi poem. In this interpretation, the love depicted in the poem for a woman symbolizes the love for God, where the intensity of love brings about challenges. He explained that the poet’s statement, “You will be destroyed if you do not reach her, you will not exist,” can be viewed positively as the dissolution of the ego.
Omar had a deep appreciation for poetry and often spoke of Ibn al-Farid, the renowned Sufi poet from Egypt (1181-1235), revered as the greatest mystical poet in the Arab world. Ibn al-Farid’s poems, particularly his works “The Song of the Sufi Way” and “The Poem of the Wine,” are still recited during ceremonies in the Shadeli Yashruti order, reflecting his focus on themes of love and ecstatic intoxication akin to wine.
Ensuring his daughters received a quality education was paramount for Omar, and he took pride in their accomplishments. In the final years of his life, he devoted much of his time to his family, finding solace, love, and support within the walls of his home. His wife noted a significant transformation during this period, describing him as a changed man, enriched by the peace and security found in familial bonds.
Matawali of the executive committee
Omar held the role of Matawali, responsible for managing the properties of the Shadeli Yashruti order in Israel. Prior to him, Dr. Mahmoud Abbasi (1935-), a prominent figure in Arab culture in Israel, served in this position. During Abassi’s tenure, the order primarily focused on internal activities, with the main center of operation being an old building in Acre that housed the holy tombs.
Omar’s journey with the order commenced in 1995 when he started visiting the Zawiya in Acre. Initially, he accompanied Ahmed Abu Al Hawa, an engineer from Jordan with a residence in Jerusalem, to the Zawiya. Al Hawa later authored a book, partly philosophical, about the Tariqa. According to Hatem Harouf, Al Hawa was a spiritually attuned individual who engaged in meaningful conversations with Omar.
In 1996, Omar orchestrated the visit of Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti to Acre in honor of the centenary commemorating the passing of Sheikh Ali Nur Al-Din Yashruti. This event marked an unprecedented occasion for Acre, drawing visitors from around the world eager to meet the Sheikh. Omar’s mother, Laika Rais, hosted a grand feast at their family home, attended by numerous dignitaries. The sheer volume of guests overflowed onto the sidewalk outside, as there was insufficient space indoors. Despite the anticipation, no one commenced the meal until the arrival of the Sheikh, who graciously invited them to begin. “It was Omar who orchestrated everything,” his mother proudly recalls.
In 1997, Omar ascended to the executive committee of the order, subsequently assuming the roles of Matawali and overseeing the reconstruction of the Zawiya. By 2000, Sheikh Ahmed Yashruti appointed Salah Harouf as the new Mukadem for Acre, reinforcing support for Omar’s endeavors. Hatem, Salah’s son, swiftly forged a friendship with Omar, eventually transitioning into his assistant and trusted aide over time.
Hatem recounts Omar’s initial entrance into the Zawiya alongside his brother Ahsan. As they recited the Wazīfa, Hatem sensed a profound depth in Omar—an individual not easily confined or understood. Omar’s inquiries and natural curiosity captivated him, establishing a deep rapport between them. Hatem felt a sense of familiarity with Omar, as if they had known each other in another time and place—a sentiment often embraced by Sufis, grounded in the belief of pre-birth soul connections under divine sovereignty. Deep in his heart, Hatem recognized Omar’s potential to significantly contribute to the Zawiya.
