Every inch of
the Mathnawi reveals that
Jalal-al-Din Rumi, the ardent
mystic, was deeply attached to
the Qur'an. In the Mathnawi as a
whole, there are more than two
thousand instances in which the
verses of the Qur'an have been
cited or meanings and words
derived from it. Perhaps only
Abu-Hamid al-Ghazzali's Revival
of the Sciences is comparable in
this respect. This is the most
obvious relationship between the
Qur'an and the Mathnawi, and
there has been a great deal of
research into this.
But the second relationship is
the relationship between the
Prophet and the Qur'an. Rumi
considers the Qur'an to be both
the word of God and the word of
the Prophet. In fact, in many
instances, he goes so far to
suggest that the Prophet is no
more than 'a cover' for God's
action. In other words, God is
both the speaker and the hearer
and the Prophet is like someone
who has been bewitched by
fairies and has had words put
into his mouth. "If this is the
way of fairies and jinni / how
much the more so for the God of
fairies / Although the Qur'an
came from the Prophet's lips /
anyone who says it wasn't said
by God blasphemes / He's slipped
a cover over the sun / In truth,
see it as the word of God"
In other words, the Prophet's
experience of union with God and
the losing of himself during
revelation leaves no distance
between them and the words can
be attributed to either one of
them; just as the lover, Majnun,
because of his union with the
beloved, Leila, was afraid that
if he was injured and bruised,
she, too, would be injured and
bruised. "I fear that as the
surgeon's knife approaches me /
it will suddenly cut into
Leila's skin / Who am I but
Leila? Who is Leila but me? /
We're one spirit in two skins"
More importantly, Rumi believes
that the Qur'an is a depiction
and a mirror of prophets' states
of being or dispositions (not a
depiction of their stories). He
says this much explicitly and
leaves the rest to the
intelligent reader. Is it not
possible to conclude that, as
far as Rumi is concerned, the
Qur'an is also a reflection of
the Prophet of Islam's
dispositions? In other words,
that the Prophet's personality
and his changing
states/dispositions have also
been reflected in the Qur'an? If
there are ups and downs in the
Qur'an's eloquence and
expressiveness (and there is);
if there are expansions and
contractions and repetitions and
variations in the stories that
are told (and there are); if
there is severity and mercy and
gentleness and harshness in the
language of the Qur'an (and
there is), is this not a product
of the Prophet's varying
dispositions? And does this not
open a new door to understanding
the Prophet's 'spirit' and the
truth of revelation and the
(tale?) of the Qur'an? "The
Qur'an is the prophets' states
of being / the pure fish in the
ocean of God / When you approach
the Qur'an of God / you mingle
with the prophets' spirits / If
you read the Qur'an and don't
understand it / cast an eye on
God's friends and prophets"
There can be no doubt that that
contraction and expansion, too,
comes from God, and that fish
are nothing without the sea, and
that therein lies their life,
their food and their medicine.
"Water is everything to fish /
food, drink, garments, medicine
and sleep / Those who sleep may
need sentries to watch over them
/ but of what use are sentries
to fish?"
But the third relationship is
the relationship between the
Qur'an and readers. Rumi offers
many wise points on this,
including the idea that, from
beginning to end, the Qur'an
teaches people the lesson of
'the rejection of causality' and
shows them that causes are
neither here nor there and that
God is everything. Of course,
habit invites us to use causes
but the discerning eye can see
that causes are nothing but 'a
cover': "All of the Qur'an is a
lesson that rejects causality /
from start to finish, the Qur'an
says no to causality"
Another point is that there are
many 'unreasonable' remarks in
the Qur'an and, instead of
interpreting them
hermeneutically on the basis of
reason, we have to interpret our
own being. That is to say, in
the words of past philosophers,
we have to acquire 'a second
nature' in order to understand
them. One such instance is the
Qur'an's reference to the
singing of God's praises by all
trees and inanimate objects.
Rumi takes the Mu'tazilites to
task for twisting the meaning of
this verse away from its
apparent meaning and saying that
trees remind us that we should
sing God's praise: "Given that
trees remind you to sing God's
praise / the chain of events is
like the trees uttering a
reminder to you"
Rumi tells them that they should
change their ears instead so
that "You'll hear inanimate
objects sing the praise of God /
and rid yourselves of the siren
song of interpretation"
More importantly, in keeping
with the ears and eyes that they
acquire, people will understand
the Qur'an's utterances in
different ways. In other words,
Rumi maintains that someone who
has been the addressee of
certain utterances until today
may cease to be their addressee
in the future or vice versa. As
if he realizes that his name is
no longer being called or that
they are saying something
different to him. This is the
meaning of approaching Scripture
and God's word in a personal way
and opening one's entire
personality (not just one's
mind) to it. This point has been
expressed in the most charming
way in the story of Hamzah, the
Prophet's uncle, who used to
wear body armour when he was
young, and, when he was an old
man and had become a Muslim, he
used to go into battle without
armour. They said to him: "When
you were young and strong / you
never went to war without armour
/ Why, now that you're old and
frail / have you turned so
reckless?"
Hamzah said in reply (and it is,
in fact, Rumi who is putting
these word's in Hamzah's mouth):
Then I was the addressee of the
verse that says, God has asked
you not to invite death, but,
today, I am the addressee of the
verse that says, Rush to Me.
Because, then, I thought of
death as the end, whereas today
I see death as the epitome of
life and felicity.
The fourth relationship is the
status that the Mathnawi has in
Rumi's eyes. He explicitly and
without mincing his words
suggests that his book is
comparable to the Qur'an, and he
sees similarities between the
Qur'an and the Mathnawi both in
terms of their effect and in
terms of their (longevity?). For
example, in response to critics
and detractors, who used to say
that there was nothing of great
philosophical or mystical value
in the Mathnawi and that it
consisted of nothing but stories
that 'children could
understand', Rumi replied that
the exact same charge could be
levelled at the Qur'an. He
recalled that the Qur'an had
been described by some as
consisting of 'ancient legends'
which spoke of nothing but
"Joseph and his wavy locks / Or
Yaqub's love for Zulaykha". But,
Rumi added, the Qur'an had
endured and the sneering had
passed away. "O ignorant people!
/ you who considered the Qur'an
fictitious / Depicting it as a
fairy tale / you sowed the seeds
of blasphemy / Where have you
gone to now? / you've turned
into fairy tales"
And, by analogy, he suggests
that the Mathnawi, too, will
endure and will not be harmed by
detractors' sneers. Rumi even
resorts to discourteous language
here in response to the cynics
and, in keeping with the Qur'an,
which likened deniers to donkeys
fleeing from a lion, Rumi says:
"You bark like rabid dogs / you
deny the Qur'an's truth / this
lion is not one that you can
escape / there's no escaping the
curse of God"
Rumi also attributes the
composition of the Mathnawi to
some kind of 'divine
inspiration' and 'supernatural
events', as if the poetry
descended onto his heart and
tongue in circumstances in which
he was not himself: "At every
moment, I long to be silent / At
every moment, I try to repent /
but, again and again, it makes
me speak / one hundred times, it
brings me to speech / You,
within, who want me to speak /
please assist me or stop
requesting it"
Even more strange and
spectacular than this is Rumi's
explicit assertion in the book's
introduction that the Mathnawi
is 'the greater jurisprudence
(fiqh) and the more brilliant
divine law (shar')', which, like
the Qur'an, can both guide and
misguide; which cannot be
grasped but by the hands of the
pure; and which was sent down by
God and no falsity could find
its way therein. And, in Vol. 6,
Rumi says that, in much the same
way as the Prophet had said of
the Qur'an, some of the
Mathnawi's contents served to
guide and some served to
misguide.
And the fifth and final
relationship is the Mathnawi's
position in Islamic culture as a
whole. If we see the Qur'an as
the Book of Awe, then the
Mathnawi is the Book of Joy. The
language of the Qur'an is, more
than anything, the language of
fear and, when love is
occasionally mentioned, it is
not expanded on at great length.
And the believers are those who,
when they hear the names of the
damned, their hearts tremble.
And the Qur'an is a book that -
had it been revealed to a
mountain - the fear of God would
have ripped the mountain
asunder. Although this fear is a
kind of 'lover's mortification',
the mortification has the upper
hand over the love, and the fear
outpaces the affection. But the
Mathnawi is the '(market stall?)
of union' and this is a union
that is born of love: "Bravo to
love that so masterfully unites
a hundred thousand droplets /
just as the potter unites grains
of dust to form a jug"
This love, which is the
Mathnawi's key word and its
midwife, brings both joy and
unity; it both transforms an
ogre into an angel and brings an
end to sorrow; it both
(surpasses divine law?) and
lends courage to the lover; it
grants not just generosity but
also loquacity; not just
munificence but also joy; not
just good temper but also
success; it both kills and
brings to life; it kills both
greed and envy. And, in a word,
it is God's regent on earth. Or,
as he goes so far as to say in
the Diwan-e Shams, this love is
identical to God. "Last night I
was aflame, my love saw me and
said: / Don't shout, don't fuss,
say nothing! / On the road to
spirit, there appeared a
soul-like moon / how sweet is
the journey to spirit, say
nothing! / I said, tell me what
this is, I must know or go
insane / Be as you like, came
the reply, but say nothing! / I
said, Is this the face of an
angel or a human? / 'Tis neither
angel nor human, say nothing! /
I said, O spirit, have a
fatherly heart, is that not a
description of God? / It is,
came the reply, but for your
father's sake, say nothing!"
It was not for nothing that, in
the history of Islamic culture,
ascetic and fearful Sufism
preceded the Sufism of love, and
that Abu-Hamid al-Ghazzali
stepped into the arena of
culture before Rumi did. It was
only by passing through fear and
asceticism that Rumi arrived at
love. Perhaps it can truthfully
and dramatically be claimed that
the Mathnawi rescued a
(condensed and wronged?) truth
from (neglect and abstraction?),
and so breathed life into it and
made it so corpulent as to make
the resulting product life- and
faith-giving in its own right.
The Qur'an was the truth of
love. Rumi placed the Mathnawi's
Book of Love beside the Qur'an's
Book of Awe, and he offered the
lover's joy in contrast to the
ascetic's sorrow. And he gave
the single-winged bird of
religion the gift of a second
wing, so that it could fly more
evenly and more joyfully. His
religion was the religion of
love, which was distinct from
all other religions. He replaced
servitude with ardency, for, to
him, the Beloved was beguiling
as well as mysterious. And he
elevated munificence above
religious law. "For munificence
is to give without any cause /
religion never speaks of the
need for sacrifice / Being in
love is neither mastery nor
servitude / you demand no reward
for being in love / The religion
of love is distinct from any
other religion / it is the
religion of the lovers of God"
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