Rumi's Masnavi, part 8: Echoes of celestial music

Moment to moment, new in form that ravishing idol appears steals the heart and disappears … He spent a term on earth, came down as Jesus from the sky, spread joy returned again, reciting glory Once he came as Noah, drowned the world in prayer, embarked the Ark Once he came as Abraham, the Friend emerging from the heart of fire turning all the flames to flowers Once as Joseph, lumen of the world, sent his coat from Egypt, giving sight as light coursed through the eyes of Jacob He came to shepherd, with white hand, made his staff slough off wooden skin, assume snakeform; held back foam waves … It was him, I swear to God, who came and went from age to age – the final time in Arab form, came in possession of the earth He it was, in truth, who said In a voice from God: "I am the Truth" From the gallows hung not Hallaj – as you wrongly thought – but him This moment he is hid, seek him if you can see with inner eye That's how all these words came to be – …. He was Tabriz, also the sun of meaning, in gardens of light In mystery's ferment he appeared and became manifest in love This poem was composed by a disciple of Rumi, attempting to speak in his voice; until about 40 years ago, it was thought to be by Rumi himself, and was frequently included in his collection of lyrical poems, the Divan of Shams . It was even sung by the popular Persian singer, Giti, in the 1970s (as Bot-e ayyar ). Though the words do not come from Rumi himself, the impression it gives of his prophetology is not far off, and it nicely represents the mystical transformation that Shams of Tabriz helped him to achieve, following in the tradition of the Sufis. Rumi did not come to mysticism primarily through visionary experiences. He relates a prescient dream he had in one ghazal and tells a symbolic visionary encounter experienced by a certain Daquqi (who is otherwise unknown to history and may well be a foil for Rumi himself), who sees an apparition of seven candles which then merge and metamorphose into men and trees, and converse, though others cannot see them (Masnavi 3: 1924ff). Many of Rumi's lyrical ghazals express an almost psychedelic perceptivity that makes his imagery so distinctive and attractive ("Light would soak the world entire / as once it did on Sinai's Mount / if I reveal the ecstasy / of my heart's fabliaux ... from ghazal 2789). But Rumi's mysticism was informed by the Qur'an and praxis in the Sufi tradition , as well as a penetrating vision into the pre-prismatic realm. He quotes from the Qur'an or alludes to its verses thousands of times, for which reason the Masnavi came to be known as the Qur'an in Persian tongue. Rumi has an avuncular homiletic way of teaching without preaching overmuch, and a penchant for expressing things in a most pleasing manner with metaphor and allegory and humour, all in an engaging verse. He does not necessarily tie things up nicely (the Masnavi itself is clearly unfinished, trailing off at the end of Book Six with its final story still incomplete). He explains theology (questions like free well and predestination, for example) and ethics, and mystical truths in a way informed by his erudition, yet that was palatable and easy enough for the uninitiated to understand. He teaches us a mode of insight: Tend within to opening of your heart / or stand accuse: " Do you not see? " We began this series wondering whether Rumi's surging fame in the west, based on English versions of his poems made popular by people who do not read them in the original, represents something spiritually original and authentic. Does Rumi have anything profound to say to us in the modern world about spirituality, the mystical path, the ecumenical nature of truth? That is for each reader to judge, in the encounter with the text. He has won the admiration of Hegel, Martin Buber, Gurdjieff, Dag Hammarskjold, Erich Fromm, among others. Some have called him the world's greatest representative of mysticism and mystical poetry. And he certainly had something to say about looking beyond the linguistic, national and religious borders that divide us to the mystical realm in which separateness and distinction melt away. A man gave four companions one dirham The first said "I will get angur with it." The second, who was Arab, answered "No! I want 'inab , and not angur , you rogue!" The third, a Turk, in Turkish chimed: "It's mine! I do not want your 'inab , but üzüm ." A Greek, the fourth, called out: "To all of this nonsense put a stop! It's estâfil we want!" Ignorant of the secret of these names they all fell from discord into wrangling Long on ignorance, of understanding shorn, each punched in knuckleheadedness, the others If a precious polyglot were present, a master of mysteries, he'd bring them peace Then he would have said: "I can fulfill all four of your desires with one dirham If you entrust me wholly with your hearts your one dirham will work for all of you Four foes, united, can become as one The words of each of you bring trouble, strife My words will bring the four of you accord So you be quiet, then: " Hold ye your tongues " Let me become your tongue in conversation. Masnavi 2: 3681-82 The Masnavi opens with the famous lament of the reed flute , cut from its source in the reed bed. It seems fitting to close this series on Rumi's work, then, with this thought: We all were parts of Adam at one time In paradise we all have heard these tunes Though clay and water fill us up with doubts We still remember something of those songs Masnavi 736-7