February 5, 2014
If you act cruelly, what is the value of a promise?
And when you give poison, what is the value of honey?
If exertion is a good action for the people,
Then what is the value of exertion for me?
(The Quatrains of Rumi, p. 412, translated by
Ibrahim Gamard and Rawan Farhadi)
***
The above quatrain by Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi contains three key issues for the sincere seeker: how you act, what you give, and what standard you live by. Although only four lines, a contextual understanding of this quatrain can be expansive and profound.
Let’s begin with how we act. If you act cruelly, what is the value of a promise? In Jalaal ud-Diin’s day making a promise was akin to taking a vow. In those days, vows were treated with utmost seriousness and not taken to be broken. One of the pillars of traditional Islam is making such a promise. When a person chooses to become a Muslim, one takes shahaadah, which in Arabic means “to witness” or “to testify.” To translate the words of the shahaadah into English: “I affirm (witness or testify) that there is no deity but Allaah, I affirm that Muhammad is Its Messenger.” Don’t let the brevity of these words minimize how this shapes the entire life of one who sincerely lives Islam, surrender to the Absolute.
When Muslims affirm that there is no deity but Allaah, the Absolute, they acknowledge that only the Absolute is the guiding force of one’s life. In ancient days, it was common that Arabs who worshiped idols would bring every significant matter before the idols for consultation. Decisions about occupation, who to marry, who to befriend, if one should make a journey, if one should engage a business deal: these issues and more were presented before the idols in hope that they would give a sign of what to do before acting. The shahaadah sought, in part, to return that dependence of guidance back to the Absolute.
The truest of Muslims, as Muhammad (pbuh) is an example, present every opportunity to act before the Beloved before carrying out any action. Some actions are already approved through scriptures and the examples of prophets and saints (such as prayer, charity, abstinence from evil acts) and do not require consultation. But where there is a lack of clarity, the context of the shahaadah is explicit that one should consult the Beloved before committing any act. This principle of the shahaadah is not exclusive to Islam, but is present in other spiritual traditions too.
For mystics, this takes on a deeper meaning because for most of us, even those who take shahaadah, the guiding force of our actions is often the ego. Many spiritual people do what they think the Beloved wants us to do: an opinion derived by one’s own ego, not the Beloved. And many masters teach that if the basis of one’s actions is the ego, it is only a matter of time before one’s actions reach the abode of cruelty. (Cruelty need not be extreme: Sufi saints would regard causing someone minor harm for unjust reasons as cruel.) Is it a surprise that some of the most cruel actions are committed by “good” people with good but ego-based intentions. And for how many people are the majority of cruel acts they suffer committed not by their enemies or strangers, but by people for whom there is a (sometimes unspoken) promise to be a benefit in one’s life: a spouse, a friend, a relative, a neighbor, a business partner, etc?
Traditional Islam is explicit that we should act with honor and compassion toward others, directives given by the Beloved. Specific verses from the Qur’aan clearly indicate the responsibility Muslims have in how they deal with spouses, family members, friends, neighbors, community members, those they do business with, and more. And in those rare situations where we can’t act with honor and compassion toward others, the Qur’aan often guides us to withdraw from such persons. Most often when we act cruelly toward anything in creation, we are acting based on the ego. Such an approach violates the promise to have the Beloved be the guide of our every action. And what is the value of this treasure of Divine Guidance, if we violate it? A Guidance that reveals Truth, Peace, and Love. If we act cruelly, what value are we showing to the promise (vow) that places us in the prosperity of having our every action guided by the Beloved? Does not cruelty risk the loss of this indescribable treasure?
This same dynamic applies to what we give. Sufis regard surrendering our every act to Divine Guidance to be a greater treasure than anything in this world. It is a treasure available to us all. In fact, many Muslim teachers have reiterated throughout the ages that one of the reasons the shahaadah is repeated in every prayer is to remind us of this great treasure. And for Muslims, the traditional prayer is made at least five times a day. With Divine Guidance comes the Beloved’s Beneficence. When we live in a way that is bestowed with Beneficence we are able to share this with others. A common metaphor for this Beneficence in Sufi poetry is honey because of its natural sweetness and healing properties.
I stress that this Beneficence is available to us all when we live the promise to have our every action guided by the Beloved. Yet, how many humans live in such a way? As stated earlier, the guiding force for most of our actions is the ego. And just as this eventually results in cruel acts, it also results in poisoning what we give to others. Sufis teach there are few poisons more toxic than selfishness, and when we act from the ego there is usually at least a drop of self-interest mixed into our actions. With poison, sometimes all you need is a drop to harm others. So even if our acts have some beneficence, some honey, what is the value of it if it is mixed with a drop of selfishness or self-interest, some poison? If I offered you a glass of the finest honey mixed with a drop of deadly cobra venom, would you drink it? And when you give poison, what is the value of honey?
These principles of having the Beloved guide our every act, and giving forth acts pure of the poison of selfishness are quite obvious when we talk about others’ actions. Who does not want to deal with people who live by these standards, enjoying the benefits of such interaction? But to live in such a way does require some exertion: to restrain our egotistical tendencies to be guided in ways that allow us to be vessels of Beneficence. If we acknowledge such exertion is a good action for the people [others], Then what is the value of exertion for me? Note that Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi personalizes this question, turning the subject from you to me. The idea of living this “exertion” is more welcoming than the reality of living it, because to live this means to face and restrain our own selfish tendencies. But when we do, we will see why Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi presents the question. If we surrender our every action to the guidance of the Beloved, and allow our life to be a honey without poison, we will see that the value of exerting one’s self to good action is not only a standard we should wish upon others but first and foremost upon one’s own self.
For those who have not yet reached this state, consider how different your life would be if every single act you performed was guided by the Beloved. We all are able to live in this way if we surrender to the Absolute, whatever our spiritual path may be. For when the Beloved guides our every action the whole of life is transformed to a life that lives Oneness with the Beloved. Where not a single action, intention, or inclination separates the lover from the endless ocean of Love...
Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi poses the questions? How will you live your answer to these?
