March 20, 2014
Once there was a philosopher who became so sick he could not leave his bed, and his illness dragged on a long time. A certain theologian went to visit him.
“What are you seeking?” the theologian asked.
“Health,” said the philosopher.
“Tell me how this health is shaped, so that I may find it for you.”
“It has no shape,” said the philosopher. “It is indescribable.”
“If it is indescribable, then how can you look for it?” the theologian demanded.
“All I know,” answered the philosopher, “is that when health arrives I grow in strength. I become plump, fresh and alive.”
“From illness we learn of health,” said the theologian. “From what is describable we learn of what is indescribable. Now abandon your doubting ways and I will return you to your vital self.”
Though spiritual truth is inscrutable, still we all benefit from it through the embodiment of form. Just as you see the changes brought by the stars, moon and sun turning in the sky, the rain from clouds in due season, summer and winter, and all the transformations of time. You see all these things happen, and know that it is right and in accordance with wisdom. But how does that distant cloud know it is necessary to rain at its appointed time? Or how does this earth, when it receives a seed, know to return it tenfold? Well, Someone does this. Behold that Someone through the embodiment of this world, and find nourishment. Just as you use the body of another person to contact their essence, use the embodiment of this world to touch That reality.
(adapted from A.J. Arberry’s translation of Fihi Ma Fihi
by Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi, p. 72 - 74)
***
How many of us take time to notice our health when we are well? More often we notice the state of our body and mind when we are not well: a pain here, a discomfort there, something doesn’t quite feel right. We are usually able to give more detail to our illnesses when sick and, by comparison, point to qualities of what it would be like to be healthy again. We may even question, in our illnesses, why we are not well, what things we may do to be well again. But when healthy, we usually don’t pay any mind to the quality of being well. And those who do usually do so after having suffered a significant illness.
For the Sufi, few illnesses are worse than forgetting the Beloved. At the core of so many Sufi teachings and practices is the intention of remembering the Beloved. Although this intention is pursued through the mind and body, genuine remembrance of the Beloved goes beyond what actions and thoughts can embrace. So many masters, including Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi, have testified that the state of genuine remembrance is beyond description. How do we realize something beyond description from a place of seeking direction (a set of descriptions) for the body and mind? How do we navigate the illness of our forgetfulness of the Beloved to be restored to the health of genuine (and perhaps unending) remembrance of the Beloved?
To explore these questions, Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi presents the above story of the philosopher and the theologian. First, let’s examine the difference between a philosopher and theologian in Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi’s time. In traditional Islamic society, both the philosopher and theologian would agree with the fundamental premise revealed in the Qur’aan: laa ilaaha illallaah, which can be translated as “There is no deity but Allaah.” As seekers have deepened into the layers of this declaration, some have come to make statements such as: There is no Love but the Beloved, There is no truth but Truth (the Absolute). The Islamic philosopher seeks to realize (“understand”) this declaration through the mind. On this path, the basis of studies rests upon what can be observed and then conceptualized by the mind. If it goes beyond the realm of the mind (what is observable), it is beyond the scope of philosophy. Certainly this includes much of creation but not the Creator Itself, which is beyond observation. Although Sufis note the limitations of this path, many still have great appreciation for philosophy. The path of philosophy can lay a foundation that allows the mind to settle into being open to that which is indescribable.
The theologian goes a step further than the philosopher. The basis of their studies also rests within the realm of the mind by studying various scriptures and spiritual teachings, as well as commentaries of these. But the theologian embraces this mind-based path to open to portents of reality that clearly go beyond what the mind can conceive. The theologian will still look to base the experience of gnosis in studies and practices the mind can embrace, so others may utilize such to hopefully arrive at their own experience of gnosis. Lectures, books, and academic scholarship also hold prominent roles on the theologian path.
It’s interesting to note that this story includes two persons whose approaches are based in the mental realm and, by default, the limitations of the mind. There is another figure who goes beyond the scope of the philosopher and theologian: the saint. The path of the saint is based in the heart and utilizes practices to quiet and restrain the mind (which veils the heart) instead of seeking understanding through the mind. For example, some traditions tell how when Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi met his master Shams al-Tabriz, he was a theologian and embraced their encounter on the mental and physical levels. But Shams, when he revealed his (divine) knowing, touched Jalaal ud-Diin’s (spiritual) heart. In an instant, Jalaal ud-Diin’s mind was humbled to the heart-to-heart transmission of gnosis that occurred, involving no words. From that day forward, Jalaal ud-Diin “retired” his theologian crown to walk with the humble robe of the saint. He embraced more ecstatic practices, meditation, and even begin to twirl (ecstatic spinning dancing) and recite poetry.
Most spiritual seekers, even many who have taken initiation as Sufis, live their journey within the realms of the philosopher and theologian. Even some with exceeding sincerity seek to understand the Beloved in ways the mind can comprehend, although the Beloved is beyond comprehension. (Sometimes Its qualities can reflect upon creation in ways the mind can observe, but the Beloved is more than Its qualities.) Yet the limitations of the philosopher’s and theologian’s ways need not be causes for bondage. The nature of the mind to be restlessly inquisitive can be used to indicate a way beyond the mind.
Just as illness is often more poignant in indicating what is health, the questioning of the mind and its focus on forms can indicate and point to that which is beyond observation and description. “From what is describable we learn of what is indescribable. Now abandon your doubting ways and I will return you to your vital self.” Doubting is an indication of questioning, for when we realize the answer there is no reason to doubt. And questioning indicates that we are within the illness of forgetting the Beloved, for when we rest in the health of genuine remembrance we are beyond all questions. Whatever the question, the Sufis (and other mystics) hold that the ultimate answer is always the Beloved. But this is not an answer we can find with the mind. It is only when the Beloved reveals itself that we are able to “experience” this indescribable gnosis and return to our vital self -- the self that is healthy, that grows in strength, that is fresh and truly alive.
When we question with the mind, are we seeking an answer that provides a temporary comfort. Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi warns about this:
Allaah clearly shows the saint that all things belong
to Allaah. The philosophers may know this, but they
know it by intellectual proof, and proof is not
permanent. The pleasure that comes from proof will
not last. When the memory of the proof passes, its
warmth and thrill pass away as well. ( Fihi p. 85)
But if we use the natural restlessness of the inquisitive mind to seek the ultimate answer -- which it cannot discover -- the mind begins to wear down the veils of its incessant questioning. Zen Buddhism uses koans, contemplation of riddles that have no logical answer, in a similar manner. In this way, the activity (noise) of the mind, which is a barrier to gnosis and divine revelation is diminished. The mind can then become quiet, patient, and receptive to the Beloved. When this is accompanied by sincerity, discipline, and moral restraint (of behavior), it is only a matter of time before the Beloved reveals Itself to us. Without these accompaniments, the mind can run endlessly in ways that increasingly add to the veils of the mind.
If in everything we observe, question, and experience, we “look” for that Invisible Force that is behind it all, we can behold that Someone through the embodiment of this world, and find nourishment. In such nourishment is the health of genuine remembrance of the Beloved. Just as you use the body of another person to contact their essence, [we can] use the embodiment of this world to touch That reality. The ultimate answer. The Beloved.
