The four friends who censured one another
July 24, 2014
Four friends went to the mosque to say their prayers. Each one duly pronounced the Takbir (which begins the prayer), and was saying his prayers with great devotion. As they prayed, the Mu’azzin (the person responsible to make the call to prayer) happened to come in. One of the friends immediately called out, “O Mu’azzin, have you yet called to prayer? It is time to do so.” Then the second friend said to the first, “Ah! you have spoken words unconnected with your worship, and therefore, according to the Hadith, you have spoiled your prayers.” Thereupon the third friend scolded the second, saying, “O simpleton, why do you rebuke him? Rather rebuke yourself.” Last of all, the fourth friend said, “Allaah be praised that I have not fallen into the same ditch as my three companions.”
(adapted from Masnavi i Ma’navi: Teachings of Rumi,
translated by E.H. Whinfield, M.A., p. 146 - 147)
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Prayer is one of the five Pillars of Islam. Some limit it to just the five daily prayers, but a more expansive look reveals a deeper wealth in the art of prayer. When one takes the shahaadah, the first Pillar of Islam, implicit in this vow of affirmation is a commitment to an ethical code of behavior. In this vein, the shahaadah becomes the foundation upon which one fulfills the other four pillars: what deepens the embrace of the other pillars is the moral restraint of the ego that allows the Beloved to draw us toward It. Remember, there is no compulsion of any kind in Islam, so extremely rare it is for the Beloved to draw one toward It against a person’s freewill. But genuine surrender of the ego to a moral code serves as an invitation to the Beloved to draw one near...
It is on the basis of the shahaadah that a Muslim willingly embraces the obligation of performing the prescribed five daily prayers. Such embrace is encouraged by the communal nature of Islam: in traditional Islamic societies all social life ceases when it’s time to pray so the community of Muslims may gather to make their prayers together. As the Mu’azzin makes the call announcing that it is time to pray, Muslims shift their focus from worldly affairs to prayer. When this is embraced collectively it becomes less of a burden and more of a celebratory duty.
The five times of prayer are set, in part, to promote a continued remembrance of the Beloved throughout the day. In traditional Islamic societies, the calendar day begins at sunset, so the first prayer is made shortly thereafter to set the tone for the day. When dusk has faded into the dark of night, another prayer is made before most of the community retires for the night. The next prayer is performed at dawn, before the sun rises, just before people embark upon their work of the day. People then tend to their social duties (work, service, caring for children, elders, etc.) until mid-day, the next time for prayer. Then some take rest in the heat of the day or return to their duties until the mid-afternoon prayer. Following that, time is often dedicated to family and community matters until sunset, beginning the next day in prayer.
Within such an approach, there is never too much time spent in the waking hours before engaging in prayer. And one of the intentions of prayer is to turn one’s attention wholeheartedly to the Beloved. In realizing this purpose, some expand this pillar beyond the five obligatory prayers to include additional prayers as well as meditation, chanting, singing and dancing geared toward zikrullaah, remembrance of the Beloved.
As one moves beyond the mental level of prayer, to be brought through quietude of a concentrated mind to the heart, one realizes prayer to be a refuge of devotion in this world. It is said the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, was constantly in prayer, sometimes praying until his feet and ankles swelled. It is said, and I’m paraphrasing, that in prayer he found himself within the hands of Allaah. The lover finding peace and bliss resting within the hands of its Beloved. He also described prayer as the mi’raaj of the faithful, in which one was ascends beyond the heavens to the Beloved.
Within such devotion, we are brought beyond the duality of right and wrong to the beauty of Oneness. Yet the conditioned mind can turn us from Oneness back to the mundane realm of duality, which brings us to the story. Note that Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi states that each friend was saying his prayers with great devotion. Then one of the friends noticed the Mu’azzin who had not made the call to prayer, and this pulls the friend out of prayer. This judgement is made by the unrestrained ego. He may be correct in his assessment of the Mu’azzin’s error, but in being right he is blind to the greater error of being pulled from prayer’s devotion. And this is done in a more subtle manner than obvious error: the spiritual ego (which is right) is more delusive than the veils of evil but just as entrapping.
The words are the traditional Islamic prayer are prescribed with spaces for the one praying to include selected portions of the Qu’raan. When one is immersed in such prayer, there is no space within the prayer to judge others. In fact, the Qu’raan repeats frequently that only the Beloved is the Best of Judges, and in only limited situations should humans act as judges: such as applying a situation and a person’s actions (not the person) to the standards of divine law. When we judge, we not only assume a responsibility of the Beloved, but judgment turns us from the devotion of prayer (and other spiritual practices). It is in the devotion of prayer that we move beyond the routine of words and postures, beyond the level of the mind and body, but deeper toward the heart where we are brought near to the Beloved. It is our duty to guard our prayers from our ego through restraint -- for example, acknowledging the judging thought but then returning one’s concentration to performing the prayer. When we do so the Beloved not only protects our prayers, but the treasures realized through prayer.
When we genuinely realize the preciousness of devotion, we will be careful to not allow the judging mind to pull us from anything that turns us toward the heart. Yet resting in this devotion doesn’t stop the mind from pulling us away from devotion’s treasures. We are wise to protect our devotion by restraining the mind from judging at all times, not just when making prayers. Whenever we judge, we place and empower impressions in the mind that one of the mind’s tasks is to judge. Once such an impression is in the mind, the mind often lacks the discretion of when to do or not do it. So if you judge in one situation, there’s nothing in the mind that will stop it from judging in any other situation, including during prayer. If we wish to not pollute our prayer with judgements, we would be wise to refrain from all judgement. This doesn’t mean being blind to the errors of others, as will be addressed, but it does mean not calling out the errors of others.
As the story continues, the contagiousness of judging is made evident. From the first friend’s judgement springs the second friend’s judgment: “Ah! you have spoken words unconnected with your worship, and therefore, according to the Hadith, you have spoiled your prayers.” This is certainly one of the teachings of Muhammad (p.b.u.h.), but in reminding the first friend of this, is not the second friend committing the same error? How often when we bring attention to the errors of others do we do so in a way that is also wrong? And are oblivious to our wrong because we're so concerned with being right? The second friend’s judgment becomes an invitation to the third friend’s judgment, as he interrupts his prayer to say: “O simpleton, why do you rebuke him? Rather rebuke yourself.”
So easy it is to see and call attention to the errors of others while being blind to and failing to prevent one’s own errors. Given the communal nature of Islam, the contagiousness of wrong is treated as a great danger. The error of the second friend is an outgrowth of the error of the first friend; and the error of the third friend follows the error of the second friend. If the previous friend refrains from committing his error, this may be sufficient to prevent the following friend from committing his. In the same manner, if the first friend remained in the space of devotion, this may have been sufficient for all the friends to do so.
But, as stated earlier, we are not called to be blind to the errors of others. The words of the fourth friend acknowledge the errors of his friends when he says: “Allaah be praised that I have not fallen into the same ditch as my three companions.” Instead of calling out their errors, the fourth friend acknowledges them and turns to the Beloved. If when witnessing others’ errors, we turn our attention to the Beloved, we will find it easier to not only refrain from committing those errors but also from calling them out. In this way, we are not turned away from the Beloved, even if brought back to the level of the mind; from a mind whose attention is turned toward the Beloved, one can more easily be drawn back to the depth of devotion.
Prayer and other spiritual practices of devotion and remembrance of the Beloved are such treasures when we are drawn into the depth of these. In such depths we are turned toward and brought near to the heart, in which the Beloved dwells. We would be wise to protect ourselves from judging others and other mental (ego-based) activities that turn us from the Beloved. But such protection is not established only when we are engaged in these practices; any time we see the mind pulled in a way that turns our attention from the Beloved, this is a lingering danger. In these instances we can turn our attention to the Beloved. Such “mere” turning of attention is sufficient to protect the treasures of devotion, of remembrance, of being brought near to the Beloved.
