Forty Rules of Love(82)

The fourth merchant broke into a smile and said loudly, “Look at them! All three have messed up. Thank God I’m not one of the misguided.”

After telling this story, Shams stood facing the classroom and asked, “So what do you think? Which of the merchants’ prayers, in your opinion, were invalid?”

There was a brief stirring in the classroom as we discussed the answer among ourselves. Finally someone at the back said, “The second, the third, and the fourth merchants’ prayers were void. But the first merchant is innocent, because all he wanted was to consult the muezzin.”

“Yes, but he shouldn’t have abandoned his prayer like that,” Irshad interposed. “It is obvious that all the merchants were wrong, except the fourth one, who was just talking to himself.”

I averted my gaze, disagreeing with both answers but determined to keep my mouth shut. I had a feeling my views might not be welcome.

But no sooner had this thought crossed my mind than Shams of Tabriz pointed at me and asked, “And you over there! What do you think?”

I swallowed hard before I could find my voice. “If these merchants made a mistake, it is not because they spoke during prayer,” I said, “but because instead of minding their own business and connecting with God, they were more interested in what was going on around them. However, if we pass judgment on them, I am afraid we’ll be making the same crucial mistake.”

“So what is your answer?” Sheikh Yassin asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“My answer is, all four merchants have erred for a similar reason, and yet none of them can be said to be in the wrong, because at the end of the day, it is not up to us to judge them.”

Shams of Tabriz took a step toward me and looked at me with such affection and kindness that I felt like a little boy savoring the unconditional love of a parent. He asked my name, and when I told him, he remarked, “Your friend Husam here has a Sufi heart.”

I blushed up to my ears when I heard this. There was no doubt I would be scolded by Sheikh Yassin after the class and mocked and ridiculed by my friends. But all my worries quickly evaporated. I sat straight and smiled at Shams. He gave me a wink in return and, still smiling, continued to explain.

“The Sufi says, ‘I should mind my inner encounter with God rather than judging other people.’ An orthodox scholar, however, is always on the lookout for the mistakes of others. But don’t forget, students, most of the time he who complains about others is himself at fault.”

“Stop confusing the minds of my students!” Sheikh Yassin broke in. “As scholars we cannot afford to be disinterested in what others are doing. People ask us many questions and expect to be answered duly, so that they can live their religion fully and properly. They ask us if their ablutions need to be redone should their noses bleed or if it is okay to fast while traveling and so on. The Shafi, Hanefi, Hanbali, and Maliki teachings differ from one another when it comes to these matters. Each school of law has its own set of meticulous answers that must be studied and learned.”

“That’s good, but don’t get so attached to nominal distinctions.” Shams sighed. “The logos of God is complete. Don’t reach for details at the expense of the whole.”

“Details?” Sheikh Yassin echoed incredulously. “Believers take rules seriously. And we scholars guide them in their endeavor.”

“Keep guiding—that is, as long as you don’t forget that your guidance is limited and there is no word above the word of God,” Shams said, and then he added, “But try not to preach to those who have attained enlightenment. They derive a different pleasure in the verses of the Qur’an and so do not require the guidance of a sheikh.”

Upon hearing this, Sheikh Yassin got so furious that his withered cheeks flushed waves of crimson and his Adam’s apple jutted out sharply. “There is nothing temporary in the guidance we provide,” he said. “The sharia constitutes the rules and regulations that every Muslim should consult from cradle to grave.”

“The sharia is only a boat that sails in the ocean of Truth. The true seeker of God will sooner or later abandon the vessel and plunge into the sea.”

“So that sharks might eat him up,” Sheikh Yassin retorted, chuckling. “That’s what happens to the one who refuses to be guided.”

A few students joined in the chuckle, but the rest of us sat quietly, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The class was coming to an end, and I couldn’t see how this conversation could conclude on a positive note.

Shams of Tabriz must have felt the same gloom, for he looked pensive now, almost forlorn. He closed his eyes as if suddenly tired of so much talk, a move so subtle as to be almost imperceptible.