Chase away evil with something good - Part 2 of 2
January 22, 2014
Chase away evil with something good, and you triumph over your enemy in two ways....
The second benefit is this: When the attribute of forgiveness comes forth in you, other people realize they have not been seeing you as you truly are. Then they know that they are the ones to be reproached, not you, and no proof puts adversaries to shame more than that. So by praising and giving thanks to detractors you are administering an antidote to that hatred in them, for while they have shown you your deficiency, you have shown them your perfection.
Those who are loved by Allaah can hardly be defective. Thus, let us praise those who criticize us, so their friends will think, “It is our friends who are at odds with the Sufis, since the Sufis always speak well to our friends.”
(adapted from A.J. Arberry’s translation of Fihi Ma Fihi
by Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi, p. 425 - 426)
***
We continue with the second way to triumph over our true enemy (the ego): forgiveness. The choice of language indicates the fuller context of why Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi presents forgiveness. Note, he doesn’t say “When you forgive others, they realize they have not been seeing you as you truly are.” This statement would fall in line with how many in today’s age view forgiveness: that when someone wrongs me it is up to me if I forgive them. Traditional Islam views this as egotistical and delusional. Yet many have translated and presented Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi’s words regarding forgiveness within this vein, missing important elements that allow forgiveness to reveal who we truly are. There is a reason why he instead states: When the attribute of forgiveness comes forth in you -- understanding this is key to being seen as you truly are.
Let’s explore traditional Islam’s approach to forgiveness utilizing some of the beautiful names of the Beloved. One such name is Al-Maliik, the Absolute Sovereign and Owner of all of creation. From the smallest subatomic particle to the whole expanse of the universe of universes, it all belongs to the Beloved. When we feel “wronged,” what is being wronged? The overwhelming majority of the time, if not always, what is being wronged is an aspect of creation. That aspect can be an item we claim to possess, such as someone stole my car, my money, etc. Other times it can be something in relation to our mind and body: someone disrespected me by doing something “I” regard offensive to my mind or body, or an identity I construct in relation to having a mind and body. If these things are truly ours then, by means of ownership, when they are wronged we are right to consider ourselves as having been wronged. Then the issue of forgiving or not forgiving rests completely with us. But this differs from what traditional Islam holds: that everything belongs to the Beloved, even if certain things are left in our care and trust. Therefore, if anything is wronged, including my person, it is not “I” who is wronged but the Owner of All: Allaah, Al-Maliik.
Let’s use an example to further examine this. A friend lends me his car. While driving around, another driver carelessly hits the car creating significant damage. With the other driver being in the wrong, who should he pay to repair the car: me or my friend? The answer is clearly my friend, since the car belongs to my friend. It’s interesting to note that many spiritual people can apply this principle to things like car accidents, but don’t apply this principle when it comes to the Beloved. Now some, particularly in today’s sue-happy culture, think they’re entitled to compensation for suffering the accident. But in traditional Islam, even my person belongs to the Beloved. Therefore, any and all amends should be made to the Beloved. This is the context in which Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi presents forgiveness.
Now certain scriptures dictate terms for making amends that involve persons who suffer the wrongs -- we tend to view these in the context of punishment. For example, if I killed my neighbor’s sheep, scripture may dictate that in repenting I’m obligated to pay for or replace the sheep and offer some additional compensation for my misdeed. And as much as my neighbor may accept the sheep and compensation, it is understood that this amends is really being made to the Beloved. In fact, the Qur’aan states: “If ye punish, then punish with the like of that wherewith ye were afflicted. But if ye endure patiently, verily it is better for the patient.” (Surah 16, Verse 126, translation by Marmaduke Pickthall) Many Muslims look to the example of the Prophet Muhammad (p.b.u.h.) as a living example of this verse: he rarely (some say never) accepted amends for wrongs he personally suffered. Instead he patiently bore such wrongs knowing that all repentance and amends are due to the Beloved alone. His patience allowed him to be forgiving -- this is distinct from being the one who forgives. To be forgiving, as an attribute, is to surrender to allow the qualities of the Beloved to reflect through you even in the face of suffering wrongs. And patience is a quality of As-Sabuur, The Most Patient.
Another reason for not personalizing the wrongs of others is this: the Beloved is Al-Waali, the sole Governor and Manager of all creation. Nothing happens without the Beloved willing or allowing it to be. And if the Beloved does not will or allow it to be, nothing can make it happen. Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi writes:
He said, "This at least is notorious to all humans,
That the world obeys the command of Allaah.
Not a leaf falls from a tree
Without the decree and command of that Lord of lords;
Not a morsel goes from the mouth down the throat
Till Allaah says to it, 'Go down.'
(adapted from E.H. Whinfield, M.A.’s translation of
Masnavi i Ma’navi: Teachings of Rumi, p. 199)
So if something unfortunate happens, despite what causes appear on the relative plane, the ultimate cause lays with the Beloved. And sometimes for reasons our minds cannot comprehend. Sometimes, because of the stubbornness of our ego, we only come to learn certain lessons or be purified of certain ego-based traits through unfortunate experiences.
Once a wrong has been committed, traditional Islam presents a clear path to forgiveness. First is to repent, which is an admission of the wrong. This is important because often when we are on the causal side of a wrong we seek to ignore or hide it. This tendency toward secrecy is often a slippery slope to deceit and lying. To prevent this slide, open admission is advised. In fact, in earlier times people would sometimes go to the town center to confess aloud one’s wrongs as part of the process of forgiveness. As much as admission of wrong is often done to the wronged parties, for the spiritual, the real intent of such is to face one’s own act. Even confessing to the Beloved is not really for the Beloved who is Al-Khabiir, the All-Knowing with knowledge of the most obvious to the most secret. But when we admit our imperfections, we make ourselves available to the sculpting perfection of Al-Qudduus, the most Pure and Perfect. In such Perfection, the Beloved is Al-Ghafuur, the most Forgiving, and Al-Ghaffaar, who accepts repentance and forgives.
Repentance means not only admitting the wrong, but also making amends for the damage caused and then committing to proceed with truth so that we, to the best of our ability, don’t commit such a wrong again. When such a wrong is caused by carelessness, this may mean being more careful as we proceed through life. But even with unintentional wrongs, proceeding with truth may mean deepening one’s surrender so that we become more open to being guided by Al-Haqq (Truth and Reality), Al-Basiir (the All-Seeing), Al-‘Aliim (the All-Knowing). When we surrender to be guided by these, how can we go wrong?
So when Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi states “When the attribute of forgiveness comes forth in you,” this is a call to surrender so that these most beautiful qualities of the Beloved may shine through and upon us. It calls for surrendering the ego and its assertions (such as feeling wronged), to be guided and illuminated by these wondrous, unending divine qualities. Then instead of projecting the shadows of the ego to be seen, the light of Al-Nuur (the Divine Light) shines upon you, effortlessly revealing who you truly are. When this Light shines upon us, it is usually an indication we are fulfilling the purpose of creation – - which traditional Islam holds as surrendering to be a servant of the Beloved. Then even if others commit evil toward you it becomes obvious by that Divine Light that they are the ones to be reproached, not you, and no proof puts adversaries to shame more than that. That Divine Light is an antidote to that hatred in them, for while they have shown you your deficiency, you have shown them your perfection. In this line is a promise that when we surrender to have the even the seeds of the ego removed from us, we will no longer attract experiences in which others reflect these “deficiencies” to us. Instead, if we find ourselves in the company of others it will be those who reflect the perfection of surrender upon us reflecting our perfection of surrender: to rest in the guidance of Light upon Light.
But as great and powerful as Divine Light is, the shadow of exerting our ego is sufficient to veil this Light. If we hold ourselves as being wronged, that is an exertion of the ego. Such shadows lack the clarity of light. Instead, if we surrender to the call of forgiveness, and be forgiving by surrendering to allow the qualities of the Beloved to shine through and upon us, we will triumph over our true enemy: the unrestrained ego. With this victory, even a loss on the relative plane becomes rewarding. And perhaps, just as importantly, being forgiving toward others prevents us from being hypocrites when we are in need of forgiveness from the Beloved.
