FlamingText

Pt 2: A Sufi Tale, adapted

   Sufism is a mystical branch of Islam that concerns itself with direct knowledge of the divine, what might correspond to the term gnosis in Western religious thought. One of their central beliefs is that, because all knowledge transmitted through speech or writing tends to distort at every step of the retelling, the only true way to knowledge of the workings of the universe is through direct contact with the higher spheres of existence. They accomplish this through various ecstatic states, most famously in the spiral dance that gives the whirling dervishes their name.

  It is still practiced in many parts of the Islamic world, although in some areas practitioners must maintain a high degree of secrecy as it is not always tolerated by more doctrinaire branches of Islam. Their distrust of dogma and the contention that a central truth lies at the heart of all religions has not always made them popular with the ruling political factions in certain countries.

This is my interpretation of the Story of Fire as told by Idries Shah in his book Tales of the Dervishes. I am representing it to the best of my capacity and with the sincere hope that in doing so I am not subverting or perverting its original meaning. Also, I changed the only proper name in the whole story for no good reason other than the fact that I liked the way it sounded. No disrespect intended.

Please enjoy the Story of Fire.

  So once there was this guy. Let’s call him Eddie. Eddie was pretty sharp, and so one day he was sitting there thinking about nature and how it works when all of a sudden he got this idea for a way to make fire. And after some trial and error he worked it out and next thing you know, he’d figured out a foolproof method. And you have to understand, this was a huge deal because at that time nobody knew how to do this. Sure, lots of people had seen fire, like when lightning struck and the woods went up in flames, or maybe if they lived near a volcano or something, but nobody could make it for themselves. To them fire was just a terrifying force of nature and something that was best avoided. So when this guy, Eddie, figured out how to make it on his own, it was huge. I would say it was the biggest thing since sliced bread, but people weren’t doing that yet. Still, you get the picture.

  Eddie figured this discovery could be of great use to people so he went traveling around all over hither and yon teaching whoever he came across his methods for making and controlling fire. And these efforts met with mixed results. Some people saw the potential in this new invention and eagerly learned what Eddie had to teach them and so learned how to make fire for themselves. Other people couldn’t get past the fact that fire was really dangerous. They had a saying, back in those days: “Fire bad.” And that’s really just common sense if you think about it. And some people just couldn’t get past that and when they saw what Eddie was doing they chased him right out of town and then breathed a huge sigh of relief when they thought about what a close call they’d just had. And they went right on being cold all the time and eating their food raw just like they'd always done.

  Still Eddie continued going from place to place doing his fire-making demonstrations for anybody who’d listen until one day he came across a tribe of people who were so freaked out by what he was doing that they set upon him and tore him limb from limb, because they assumed that anybody who could summon fire like that must be some kind of demon. And they too breathed a big sigh of relief afterward, happy that they’d managed to kill the demon that had come into their village. None of them ever really thought too hard about how strange it was that, for a demon, he really hadn’t put up a very impressive fight. And they all went right on being cold and eating their food raw too, but now at night when they were all sitting around in the darkness huddled together for warmth they would tell the tale of how once long ago a demon had come to town but luckily their brave forefathers had killed him. It was their favorite story. They told it over and over.

  And so it went with all the different people that Eddie had encountered in his travels, that over generations they all retained the story of the man who’d come to their village long ago, and yet they all told the story in different ways depending what their ancestors had done with the knowledge of fire that Eddie had shown them. In one tribe the secret of fire was reserved for the priests, who used it to live in comfort and unquestioned authority while the people all froze. In a second tribe the people had forgotten how to make fire but, because the story of the of the wise man who had come to them and performed miracles was such an important one to them, they had set up shrines all over the place that contained the instruments for making fire. And every day, three times a day, once each before the hours for morning, noon and evening meals, they would stop what they were doing and bow down to the sacred instruments for fire-making without the foggiest idea what those instruments were used for or what their original meaning was. There was a third tribe of people who all bowed down before statues of Eddie, because he was the source of the divine gift of fire.

  Among a fourth tribe people still told stories about this guy who had somehow summoned fire, but since they had never really gotten the knack for performing this miracle for themselves it had all passed into legend and nobody was sure if it had really happened or if it was a metaphor or a tall tale or what have you. They argued about it a lot as a question of faith but in spite of all their scholarly debate on the subject nobody ever figured out how to make fire on their own.

  And there was a fifth tribe where the people did get the knack for making fire on their own, and they used it to cook their food and heat their houses and smelt metal and all sorts of other things.

  Centuries passed, and then one day a wise man and a band of his disciples began a journey through the lands that Eddie had long ago traversed when he was giving his fire-making seminars. After several stops along the way where they carefully observed the local customs and practices, the disciples noticed that all the stories these people told related in one way or another to making fire. And they said to their mentor “Well, now this is just crazy! All they’re talking about is making fire! They might as well be worshipping sliced bread! We’ve got to reform these people.”

  And their mentor said “Alright, since you’re so keen on bringing knowledge to these poor benighted souls, let’s start our journey again from the beginning and see what happens. By the time we reach the end, those of you who survive will have a better understanding of the real problems involved in such an undertaking and how to approach them.”

  And at that the disciples said “What do you mean, ‘those of us who survive’?” but it was too late, the mentor had spoken and so they all retraced their steps and went back to the beginning of their route.

  The first stop on their journey they were received graciously by the tribesmen, who invited them to one of their religious ceremonies. They all went to the ceremony and sure enough, the priests were there doing their mystical dances, jumping up and down and chanting and calling out to the heavens and then finally at the end they “summoned” fire and the crowd went completely nuts.

  After witnessing this, the master asked his disciples if any of them had anything to say, and one of them immediately piped up with “You bet I’ve got something to say! These people are being bamboozled! Those charlatans have all got them convinced that they’ve got God’s personal phone number just because they know how to rub two sticks together. We’ve got to tell these people the Truth!”

And the master said, “I can think of two or three reasons right off the top of my head why that may not be such a great idea, but if you’re really committed, go ahead, provided you do so at your own risk.”

  And so the idealistic young acolyte stepped up and addressed the crowd and the tribal chiefs and the priests who were all still gathered and said to them “I too can produce fire, which you believe to be a special manifestation of divine power. If I can perform this miracle, will you admit that your beliefs have been in error for lo these many years?”

Immediately upon hearing this, the priests summoned some guards who dragged him away and that was the last anybody ever heard from him. The rest of the band made some hasty goodbyes and took their leave of that place.

They all had to agree afterwards that it had not gone well.

  Next they all came to the place where the people prayed to the shrines filled with fire-making tools. One of the braver disciples, who also happened to be a very fast runner, asked his master’s permission to go and try to reason with the people in this tribe. The master told him “Absolutely. Knock yourself out.”

  So the disciple approached the people and began talking to them, although he was careful to keep a clear path for himself to the exit in case things started to take an ugly turn.

“I beg your permission to speak to you as reasonable people,” he began, balancing on the balls of his feet as if poised to take off sprinting at a moment’s notice. “What you are worshipping is simply the means of doing something, not even the thing itself. The whole usefulness of the process is lost to you.”

And the people there replied “Say what?”

The disciple bravely continued. “If you allow me, I can show you the truth that lies beneath your rituals, and I think you’ll find the knowledge you gain from it to be exceedingly useful.”

  Now these people were more reasonable than the first tribe had been, as evidenced by the fact that they didn’t kill this newcomer as soon as those words were out of his mouth, but even so they took umbrage.

  One of the oldest and most respected among them stepped up and said “Now look here. You are strangers and we’ve shown you hospitality because that is our custom. But even so, you are way out of line. Where do you get off criticizing our beliefs? Didn’t you notice that we pray to the sacred instruments three times a day? Three times! Every day! Didn’t that clue you in that we take our religion seriously in these parts?”

“Well, I…” said the acolyte.

“You come in here with your ‘fire this’ and your ‘worshipping the means’ that, and the fact is you don’t know the first thing about us or our traditions,” he continued, “and yet you would presume to tell us all about the true meaning behind our rituals? How dare you?”

“It’s just that I….” Stammered the acolyte.

“Maybe you’d best be on your way.”

And with that they took their leave of that place as well.

  Before long they came to the place where the people worshipped the image of Eddie. In front of each and every house was a statue of Eddie, except over time the sculptors had made some enhancements, so that the Eddie in their depictions had broader shoulders and a much more prominent jaw than the original ever had. And the people bowed down to the statues and laid garlands at their feet and asked them for advice in all kinds of matters.

Seeing this the disciples, who along the way had begun to learn a thing or two about tact, tried to broach the subject of faith with the most learned members of the priesthood.

  “Now look, let’s be clear on one thing,” said the third disciple, who had volunteered for this task, “Nobody’s knocking Eddie. Eddie was obviously not only one very sharp cookie, but also a truly generous guy for devoting his life to bringing the gift of fire to a bunch of people he didn’t even know, most of whom didn’t understand or appreciate what he was trying to do for them.”

“He was not a ‘sharp cookie.’ “ Answered the priests. “He was a God.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, the reason he was so special is because he brought fire, you see, and the reason fire is special…”

“The reason he was special,” replied the priests, “is because he was a God.”

“And the reason fire is special,” continued the exasperated disciple, “ is because it is useful. And if you’ll permit me to demonstrate using these simple tools, I will show you how…”

  “Stranger,” said the chief priest, his expression grave and his voice icy, “your speech and ways are foreign to us. You are clearly not a priest or even an acolyte of our faith, and yet you profess to tell us that you know more about our God than we do, we who have devoted our lives to following him and knowing his ways. This is the most rank heresy.” And his expression never wavered and his eyes never moved from the third disciple all the while he was saying these things.

“Maybe we’d best be going.” Said the third disciple.

At the fourth stop they decided to split up and report back what they had found. When they had all gone into the settlement and returned to check in, the master asked each of them in turn to tell the company what they had encountered.

“Well, they’re all very familiar with the stories of the man who made fire, although for some reason here they all call him Ramón,” said one of their number.

“I noticed that too. Ramón!” said another.

  “But,” the first one continued, “it’s all just legends now. Most people don’t seem to believe that it really happened. The only people I could get to believe me seemed to be people who were more or less lunatics, and I’m certain they would have been ready to believe I could lay a golden egg if I told them so. I have my doubts if any of those believers I talked to could have managed to make fire even if I showed them how.”

"I had a similar experience,” another disciple chimed in, “except some of the lunatics who believed me seemed like they probably would have been able to master it if I’d showed them how.”

“And why didn’t you?” asked the master, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  “I questioned their motives. I started to wonder what the effect might be if only a few crazy people possessed the secret. One fellow I talked to seemed real excited about learning the method for making fire, and when I asked him what he planned to do with this precious gift, he just said something about how he’d ‘make them all pay, that’s what’ and then started rocking back and forth on his haunches and chuckling to himself. I could hear him chuckling all the way down the street as I was leaving. For all I know, he’s still chuckling right now.”

“And were your experiences similar?” the master asked another of his pupils.

  “Indeed no, master.” The student replied. “I managed to talk to one of the foremost religious sages of this area, who seemed sane enough in his way. He informed me that the mystery of the making of fire was the axis around which their entire faith spun. For the fact that proof of the matter was unobtainable demanded faith, and therefore to even seek to settle the question one way or the other would eat away at the very foundations of belief, which rests on faith and not on doubt. For it is only the doubter who demands proof. “

"Listening to him was giving me a headache so I left.”

“And what of you?” the master inquired of the last of his pupils.

“They heard me saying I could make fire and ran me out of town, calling me a huckster and a 'snake oil salesman,' whatever that means.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” Said the master, the faintest of smiles crossing his lips.

  So they continued on their journey, encountering many more tribes along the way, the descendents of the same people who had been visited by Eddie centuries before, each with their own interpretation of the meaning of the story of his fateful visit. At one point they came across a tribe of people whose beliefs all centered around a ritual reenactment of the slaying of the Fire Demon. They all agreed to skip that stop.

At last they came to a thriving little town. It showed all the signs of prosperity and civilization, so it was with some hopefulness that one of their number went forth to inquire about the native customs regarding fire.

On a bustling city street, the disciple approached a passing stranger, and called out to him “Tell me, good sir, what do you know of the teachings of the Making of Fire?”

And the stranger turned, pulled out a Zippo lighter, lit up a smoke, and said “Come again?”

So afterwards the company all had to agree that they had nothing to teach these people.

Then the master gathered all of his disciples into a circle and told them:

“I hope you’ve all learned something here. It’s not enough to know a thing. You’ve got to know how to teach. The main difficulty is that people don’t want to be taught. So first you’ve got to teach them how to learn. And before that you’ve got to teach them that there’s something to be learned.”

“Oh sure, people will tell you that they’re ready to learn, they'll swear up and down that they want to learn, but when you get right down to it what they really want is to be taught things that confirm what they already think they know. Which is exactly the same as not wanting to learn anything at all.”

“So it’s a tricky business.” He concluded. “Only when you know these things can you devise a way to teach. Otherwise you can have all the knowledge in the world and you may as well be telling it to a wall.”

Posted by flamingbanjo at April 17, 2006 10:27 PM