The Holy Man

(A traditional Sufi story, as retold in The Magic of Metaphor).

A holy man was walking by the river considering the nature of true holiness. He was a precise man, who kept to the letter of the holy law, and considered it his holy duty to notice those frailties he detected in himself and others. He studied and prayed very hard so that he should become as perfect as possible.

As he walked by the river, reciting his prayers, he heard floating across the river from afar the holiest of the prayers of his order. The prayer, as was the custom, was repeated over and over again in order to induce a holy trance in the reciter.

But the prayer disturbed the holy man. Whoever was saying these prayers had failed to learn them correctly. The syllables of the first words of the prayer were in the wrong order. The holy man knew that a prerequisite for attaining bliss in the next life was an intention towards perfection in this life. And clearly the getting wrong of an important prayer was going to be a hindrance to the pilgrim across the river in his quest to achieve Paradise.

At this opportunity to do "good work" by correcting this misguided worshipper, the holy man rented a rowing boat and set out across the river to find the man who was mangling such holy and beautiful words.

As he was paddling across the lapping wavelets and negotiating the currents, his mind wandered to a curious phenomenon of holiness that he himself had never had the opportunity to witness. He considered that one would have to reach a very high level of holiness indeed to achieve the art of walking across water. Perhaps, if he was able to perfect himself a little more, and achieve greater saintliness through acts similar to the one that he was even now engaging in, to wit the important and necessary correction of a misguided sinner who hadn't taken sufficient trouble to learn his prayers properly, he himself might one day reach the level of sanctity sufficient to traverse the waves on foot.

And another thing. It was surely the duty of all right minded people to give advice and corrective feedback to those who erred. Just as it was their duty to accept the advice and feedback with humility and without justification.

The mangled opening to the prayer broke through once again into his consciousness, disturbing his meditations on holiness and its higher manifestations. The sound was coming from an island in the river. He drew up to a small jetty, moored the boat, and walked up a short gravel path. Inside a small and simple cave he was much surprised to find another holy man of his order praying.

"Brother," said the perspiring rower, "I have taken the trouble to row all the way across this river to draw your attention to the fact that you are mis-saying your prayers. You are saying, 'Yee moo yen zaa' and you ought to be saying 'Yen moo zaa yee'."

"Thank you," said the hermit. "I feared that might be the case and am most grateful to you for the trouble to which you have put yourself. Would you care to repeat the correct form once again so that I might follow the more enlightened path?"

The holy man offered once again the correct version and then returned to his boat. As he paddled back across the river he reflected on the nature of good works and the duty of the moral man to restore true order to a misguided world. Acts of saintliness such as this were the signs and symbols that one was indeed on the true path to holiness and Paradise.

He was much surprised to be disturbed in his meditations on holiness by a voice calling to him.

"Wait a moment please, good sir," came the voice across the waves.

Looking up, the holy man saw the hermit walking rapidly across the waves towards him. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you again, but I'm afraid my memory is short and I am not the quickest of learners. Did you say it was 'Yen zaa moo yee' or 'Yen moo zaa yee'?"

"Yen moo zaa yee'," echoed the holy man numbly.

"Thank you so much. May your good deed be richly rewarded."

And so saying, the hermit turned and walked lightly back across the water.