More from the Sufis
Do you have any idea which poet people are
reading the most these days? Let me tell you. His name is Jallal-ud-Din
Rumi, and believe it or not, he came from that part of the
east which is now called Afghanistan. Rumi's family moved to what
is now Turkey, and there he composed several thousand excellent
poems in Persian.
Here is a translation of one of them:
God made the fake look like the real [this world] and he hid the
Real [Himself] as if it did not exist. He covered the sea, showing
the foam. He hid the wind from our sight but made the dust visible!
This world is an old magician who sells you the moonlight, calling
it "silk."
When you come to your true Self you see that there are no silk
clothes, but instead you have spent your money and your purse
is empty! In this great market of magic [the world] always look
beneath the surface: buy nothing but Truth.
S'adi was another
Mideastern poet. This, not a poem, is his memory from childhood.
I remember that in the days of my childhood I was a religious
boy, earnest in my prayers and devotions. One night I was keeping
vigil (staying awake) with my father, the Holy Book on my lap.
The people around us in the meeting house were sound asleep, and
I said to my father, "None of these sleepers is raising his
head to say his prayers or to hear the word of God. You would
think that they were all dead."
Father replied: "My beloved son, it would be better that
you too were asleep rather than slandering people behind their
backs."
Here are three of his little stories:
A muezzin is one who is appointed to recite the Kor'an
in public. Naturally someone with a melodious voice is usually
chosen for the job. One day a muezzin with a perfectly horrible
voice was doing the reciting. A righteous man passing that way
asked him, "What is your salary?"
"Nothing," said the reciter.
"Why then do you take all this trouble?"
"No trouble," he replied, "I do it for God's sake."
"Then for God's sake, don't do it!"
One day Mullah Nasreddin (a famous Muslim
religious leader) saw a crowd gathered around a pond. A Muslim
priest with a huge turban on his head had fallen into the water
and was calling for help. Evidently he could not swim.
People were leaning over toward him and saying, "Give me
your hand, Revered Sir! Give me your hand." But the priest
didn't pay any attention to them and went on splashing about in
his struggle with the water, and calling for help. Finally Nasreddin
stepped forward
"Let me handle this," he said. He stretched out his
hand toward the priest and shouted at him: "Here! Take my
hand!" The priest grabbed the Mullah's hand and was hoisted
out of the pond. People were very surprised and asked the Mullah
how he had managed to get the priest's cooperation.
"It is very simple," he replied. "I know that this
miser wouldn't give anything to anyone. So instead of saying 'Give
me your hand,' I said 'Take my hand,' and sure enough he
did it."
A Fool, penniless, with no money to
buy even his next meal, became a preacher. One day he climbed
up to the pulpit and asked the congregation if they had any questions
to ask, on religious matters.
"Where is Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) at present?"
someone asked [This was long after Mohammed had died.]
The fool now regretted that he had invited questions, but he had
to give an answer, so he made a "stab in the dark":
"In Heaven," he said.
"Which level?" the questioner wanted to know.
"The fifth," the preacher said without hesitating.
"How can he obtain food for eating, in that unearthly place?"
The Fool couldn't take it any more. "I have been in your
town for over a month and you never wanted to know whether I
had food to eat or how I got it. And now you are worrying about
the Prophet's dinner in Heaven! You people should be ashamed of
your uncaring and heathen ways!"
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