a sufi story,..zekr

I then led her to a quiet corner, to sit and repeat her zekr until the Master appeared. This is the time ofmohasebeh, the balancing of accounts. As it is written in the Koran:“And verily, whether you manifest what is within you or keep it hidden, God will call you to account for it.” Thus we struggle to eliminate the selfish and petty deceits of the ego from our thoughts and deeds, and to balance God’s gifts with our service. After ten or fifteen minutes the Master came down and joined us. All stood as he seated himself on the sheepskin rug, and then sat at his command. He indicated that Rebecca should sit at his right hand, the Professor and Captain Simach next to her, and I on his left. Ali and Rami sat to my left. When all were seated and settled, tea was immediately served to him. He sipped it out of courtesy, and then began to speak: “O darvish!” he said, his piercing glance encompassing all within the circle. “When God created mankind, all of them claimed to love Him, so He created the pleasures of the world, and nine-tenths of them immediately deserted Him, and there remained but one-tenth. Then God created the glory of paradise, and nine-tenths again deserted Him, and only one-tenth of the tenth remained. And then He imposed upon those that were left one particle of affliction, and nine-tenths of these also fled from Him.” The Master paused to light his pipe, sighing with the exhalation of the smoke. “Such is the lot of humanity,” he said, “torn between pleasure, hope, and despair. Yet those that remained, that tenth of a tenth of a tenth, are the Elect. They did not desire the world, nor seek after paradise, nor flee from suffering. It was God alone they desired, and though there is imposed on them such suffering and terror that even the mountains tremble, they do not abandon their love and devotion. They are indeed God’s servants and true lovers.” Many tears answered his words, and he went on: “To follow the path of Love is indeed to be a servant, to Him and to your fellow creatures, so they may also find their way. Thus came the word of God’s Mercy into the heart of Dhu’l-Nun the Egyptian, as it was related long ago. “And God said unto him: ‘If there come to you one sick through separation from Me, heal him, or a fugitive from Me, seek him out, or afraid of Me, then reassure him, or wishing union with Me, then show him favor, or seeking to approach Me, encourage him, or despairing of My grace, help him, or hoping for My loving-kindness, give him good news, or with right thoughts of Me, then welcome him, or seeking to know My attributes, guide him. And if one who is injured asks help of you, give it to him, but if he is doing evil in despite of loving-kindness, then remonstrate him, or if he is forgetful of it, then remind him, and if he goes astray, search for him. For you have I predestined for My work, and you have I appointed for My service.” The words filled our hearts to bursting, and burn in my memory even now. Never had I heard such power in the Master, nor his voice so moving. Many cried Allah! Allah! and wept openly in supplication and gratitude. Professor Freeman held his daughter as she wept, and his own eyes were brimmed with tears. Captain Simach, though, was the greatest surprise. His face and arms were lifted skyward, as if he were beseeching heaven, and he seemed to be speaking though no sound uttered from his moving lips; and his face was contorted as if he were in great pain. The Master leaned past Rebecca and Professor Freeman and touched the young man’s shoulder. His hands immediately fell back into his lap, and he bowed his head and was still. Even as I wondered at this, the Master raised his right hand and the cries and weeping subsided. He called for music, and this night Ali’s ney was joined by Rami’s tar, and many others held dafs. One of the older dervishes even brought out an ancient tombeck, a small barrel-like drum made of mulberry wood and goatskin, which is held under the arm. The ney began to sing it’s longing, and the strings of the tar softly twined its hope around each phrase. Soon the rhythm of thedafs became faster, and voices were raised to the beat of many clapping hands. They sang one of the Master’s poems:Hear, O darvish, the song of Lovethe unending tale of the heart.God whispers “Be!” and infinitytakes eternal flight.Love commands the darkness to depart,and the world to arise in light.Mountains, seas and stars bear witness,The east wind cries out on the wing.La Illaha illa Allah,O Sufi, the universe sings.Forgive the clumsy rhyme of my translation; the original is more elegant by far. What is lost, however, may be heard in the drums and clapping hands and every voice raised in the driving harmony, repeating the shahada, the bearing of witness, that La Illaha illa Allah: There is no God, but God. Ney and tar were stilled as the rhythm of drums and hands and voices went on and on, until the very walls shook with it, and every heart beat to it, and each cell of the body sang in joy and remembrance and longing:La Illaha illa Allah! La Illaha illa Allah! Ten minutes went by, twenty, thirty, until throats were raw and hands were swollen, and tears mingled with the blood of the heart. At last, the Master raised his hand and the drums abruptly stopped on the last beat. The shouts died slowly away, but many wept and their sobs mingled with the moans of those who had been overcome and were being revived. In the first instant of silence the Master calmly lit his pipe and began to speak.“Why do you weep and tremble so?” he asked. “For what reason do you moan and sigh?” “Allah!” many shouted. “Indeed!” the Master replied. “God alone is the ultimate source of the heart’s joy and sorrow, both the pain and the cure. The soul remembers this as a drop remembers the sea, and so longs the more for that Ultimate Union. All you will learn on the path is but a reflection of that truth, for all true knowledge is remembrance. Thus we polish the heart with tears, that it may reflect only the light of His mercy and compassion."