by T.L. James of MarsBlog. Part of our weekly Sufi Wisdom series.
From Shah's Caravan of Dreams comes a different sort of Nasrudin tale:Mulla Nasrudin's father was the highly-respected keeper of a shrine, the burial-place of a great teacher which was a place of pligrimage attracting the credulous and the Seekers After Truth alike.In the usual course of events, Nasrudin could be expected to inherit this position. But soon after his fifteenth year, when he was considered to be a man, he decided to follow the ancient maxim: 'Seek knowledge, even if it be in China.'
'I will not try to prevent you, my son,' said his father. So Nasrudin saddled a donkey and set off on his travels.
He visited the lands of Egypt and Babylon, roamed in the Arabian Desert, struck northward to Iconium, to Bokhara, Samarkand and the Hindu-Kush mountains, consorting with dervishes and always heading towards the farthest East.'Nasrudin was struggling across the mountain ranges in Kashmir after a detour through Little Tibet when, overcome by the rarefied atmosphere and privations, his donkey laid down and died.
Nasrudin was overcome with grief; for this was the only constant companion of his journeyings, which had covered a period of a dozen years or more. Heartbroken, he buried his friend and raised a simple mound over the grave. There he remained in silent meditation; the towering mountains above him, and the rushing torrents below.
Before very long people who were taking the mountain road between India and Central Asia, China and the shrines of Turkestan, observed this lonely figure: alternately weeping at his loss and gazing across the valleys of Kashmir.
'This must indeed be the grave of a holy man,' they said to one another; 'and a man of no mean accomplishments, if his disciple mourns him thus. Why he has been here for many months, and his grief shows no sign of abating.'
Presently a rich man passed, and gave orders for a dome and shrine to be erected on the spot, as a pious act. Other pilgrims terraced the mountainside and planted crops whose produce went to he upkeep of the shrine. The fame of the Silent Mourning Dervish spread until Nasrudin's father came to hear of it. He at once set off on a pilgrimage to the sanctified spot. When he saw Nasrudin he asked him what had happened. Nasrudin told him. The old dervish raised his hands in amazement:
'Know, O my son,' he exclaimed, 'that the shrine where you were brought up and which you abandoned was raised in exactly the same manner, by a similar chain of events, when my own donkey died, over thirty years ago.
Excuse me for being off topic, but what is the point of these stories in general?
I've read many of them, and the comments, and in general I've said nothing because I had nothing to say.
I can see the people posting importing great intelligence and good reading skills into these stories, polishing them till they shine like real gems. I can see the stories are alive with religious self-esteem - consciousness of the cleverness of the author(s).
What I don't see is any adequate foundation for this self-esteem, this sense of being clever in a specially commendable way. There is some comedy, but it's not that great, and it doesn't reach up to heaven or down to earth, nor does it do anything to warn us of the demonic. I see nothing authentically holy here. I don't see the gritty down-home wisdom of the Old Testament or Phah-Hotep or other specimens of that genre. I see no very impressive ideals or values or worthwhile models, like the Jewish focus on justice and the ideal of the righteous man or woman. I see nothing vital on honour and its obligations, a topic that has engaged serious people from many lands. I don't see anything like the sense of tragedy, pride and necessary struggle that you get in Homer or even Camus. I don't see the deep-rooted and fertile reasonableness and moral earnestness of Confucius and his disciples. I don't see the intellectual toughness and willingness to get straight to the main questions that you see with philosophers like Rene Descartes or even the more impressive systematic sages like Mo Tzu.
It just seems like there's this bunch of people convinced that they are the bee's knees and that it's well worth other people's while to study their stories and admire their cleverness. But under a shrine that lacks even any really worthwhile decoration, there seems not to be even an honest donkey.
I'm not unwilling to acknowledge extraordinary and radical virtue that's inseparable from a peculiar religion and culture that may seem alien. On the contrary, the assumption that it works like that is a fundamental part of my thinking on moral, religious and civilisation/cultural issues, and it's one of the reasons why I think hero-worship and shrines at places where great virtue has been demonstrated should have places above (good, useful) lists of generalities like "justice, fortitude, temperance and prudence".
I'm saying: in this case, where's the beef?
Also, I strongly disagree that "all shrines are a hoax". (On the contrary, it seems to me that holy sites and the dead deserve much, much more reverence than we are accustomed to afford them.) "You too," implicit in the title of the post, doesn't cut it.
And I am happy to argue that one (on the authenticity of some shrines), if challenged, as long as the discussion is on instances I know something about. I can't argue without a concrete context, because some shrines are indeed hoaxes. This may be a case in point.
PS: If these stories are great poetry in the original, then I retract my remark about the lack of decoration. Pretty rhymes, chantability etc. have value in themselves, like good dance steps.
What I am is what I am.
Are you what you are - or what?
I'm not aware of too many things,
I know what I know if you know what I mean.
Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks.
Religion is a light in the fog.
I'm not aware of too many things,
I know what I know if you know what I mean.
Pop song magic - even if you don't agree.
Oh, David... I love Mulla Nasrudin-- I don't really know how to say this, but I'll try.
One thing I always get from the Mulla's tales, is a sense of self-deprecation, the ability to not take one's self too seriously, and the other is the ability to instruct with humor. Sufi folktales are like the ethnic wisdom of Anunzi the sub-saharan spider, or Coyote of Native American mythos.
You are supposed to be charmed by the deceptively simple story, and when you actually begin to analyse it, it explodes in your head as a sort of epiphany, a trojan horse puzzle for enlightenment.
I guess something close might be the parables of the New Testament, but the appeal to humor is not there. But the parables are also deceptively simple stories that are supposed to deliver a profound lesson. :)
A very enjoyable tale, as always.
Where's the beef? Well, David... like Armstrong said, if you need to ask what jazz is, then I can't tell you :-) .
David Blue,
Excellent. Your lengthy and well written challenge shows you have more promise as a student of the Sufi that those who are passively dismissive or fawning in their fetishism of a “kewl, hip” faith. Hold that attitude and spirit and keep reading and questioning. As jinnderela indicated, the “mind road” will exhaust itself and you will attain a sublime insight or two.
[Is this a maddening answer? Yes, and it is meant to be. Consider that you wrote your challenge not because you were convinced that the Sufi stories were without value, but because you admitted the possibility that they had some. Hold that thought. Give it a few years. There are yet paths to wisdom outside our common experience.]
David, the title "All Shrines Are A Hoax" comes from Shah's intro to the story (actually titled "The Shrine") in the book Caravan of Dreams. The tale is a dramatization of the motto, which Shah says is used by dervishes to ridicule themselves and weed out unsuitable candidates. If you are familiar with the Church of the Subgenius, this ridicule has some similarity of purpose to the practice of killing "Bob".
To my eye, the motto and the tale are meant to remind one that a "shrine" may not in truth represent what the worshippers who attend it believe it does. As the Sufis warn against ossified rituals and the like -- practices which have long since lost their original meaning and efficacy but are continued out of habit -- the "shrine" can be taken to mean whole schools of thought and practice. Like the donkey they once served their purpose, but their time having passed, their ritualized continuance is a hindrance to attaining true awareness rather than a vehicle to carry one towards it. Similarly, it can be read as a warning against idolatry, that is, the worship of the form rather than the substance.
Sufi tales can typically be interpreted on many levels. For instance, on a more superficial level, the story is a warning against buying into ideas or beliefs whose origins and underpinnings one doesn't fully understand. Jinnderella's comparison to a Trojan Horse is apt, as it is typically the humor or the superficial lesson which sneaks in the deeper lesson.
On the other hand, some of the greatest and most-deserved shrines are to those who have served well and been loved the most.
No matter how long their ears are.