I don’t know if there is such a person in your lodge. But if there is, I leave it in your hands to inform him about the destiny that awaits him. If you and I can play even a minute role in helping two rivers meet and flow into the ocean of Divine Love as one single watercourse, if we can help two good friends of God to meet, I will count myself blessed.
There is, however, one thing you need to take into consideration. Rumi might be an influential man adored and respected by many, but that doesn’t mean he does not have critics. He does. Furthermore, such a flowing-together might generate discontent and opposition and cause rivalries beyond our comprehension. His fondness of his companion might also cause problems in his family and inner circle. The person who is openly loved by someone who is admired by so many people is bound to draw the envy, if not the hatred, of others.
All of this might put the companion of Rumi in unpredictable danger. In other words, my brother, the person you send to Konya might never make it back. Therefore, before reaching a decision as to how to reveal this letter to Rumi’s companion, I ask you to give the matter considerable thought.
I am sorry to put you in a difficult position, but as we both know, God never burdens us with more than we can bear. I look forward to your answer and trust that whatever the outcome, you will take the right steps in the right direction.
May the light of faith never cease to shine upon you and your dervishes,
Master Seyyid Burhaneddin
Shams
BAGHDAD, DECEMBER 18, 1243
Beyond dangling icicles and snow-covered roads, a messenger appeared in the distance. He said he came from Kayseri, and caused a stir among the dervishes, who knew visitors to be scarcer than sweet summer grapes at this time of the year. A messenger with a message urgent enough to be carried through snowstorms could only mean one of two things: Either something terrible had happened or something important was about to happen.
The arrival of the messenger set tongues wagging in the dervish lodge, as everyone was curious about the content of the letter handed to the master. But, shrouded in a cloak of mystery, he gave no hints whatsoever. Stolid and ruminant, and zealously guarded, for days he bore the expression of a man struggling with his conscience, finding it hard to reach the right decision.
During that time it wasn’t sheer curiosity that prompted me to closely observe Baba Zaman. Deep inside, I sensed that the letter concerned me personally, although in what way I could not tell. I spent many evenings in the praying room reciting the ninety-nine names of God for guidance. Each time one name stood out: al-Jabbar—the One in whose dominion nothing happens except that which He has willed.
In the following days, while everyone in the lodge was making wild speculations, I spent my time alone in the garden, observing Mother Nature now cuddled under a heavy blanket of snow. Finally one day we heard the copper bell in the kitchen ring repeatedly, calling us all for an urgent meeting. Upon entering the main room in the khaneqah, I found everyone present there, novices and senior dervishes alike, sitting in a wide circle. And in the middle of the circle was the master, his lips neatly pursed, his eyes hazy.
After clearing his throat, he said, “Bismillah, you must be wondering why I summoned you here today. It is about this letter I received. It doesn’t matter where it came from. Suffice it to say that it drew my attention to a subject of great consequence.”
Baba Zaman paused briefly and stared out the window. He looked fatigued, thin, and pale, as if he had aged considerably during these past days. But when he continued to speak, an unexpected determination filled his voice.
“There lives an erudite scholar in a city not far away. He is good with words, but not so with metaphors, for he is no poet. He is loved, respected, and admired by thousands, but he himself is not a lover. Because of reasons far beyond me and you, someone from our lodge might have to go to meet him and be his comrade.”
My heart tightened in my chest. I exhaled slowly, very slowly. I couldn’t help remembering one of the rules. Loneliness and solitude are two different things. When you are lonely, it is easy to delude yourself into believing that you are on the right path. Solitude is better for us, as it means being alone without feeling lonely. But eventually it is best to find a person, the person who will be your mirror. Remember, only in another person’s heart can you truly see yourself and the presence of God within you.
The master continued. “I am here to ask if any one of you would like to volunteer for this spiritual journey. I could just as well have appointed someone, but this is not a task that could be performed out of duty. For it can be done only out of love and in the name of love.”