An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha: A Lecture Series by Mostafa Malekian

Drawing on the words of two Western thinkers, I will make two points. These points are not, of course, their original inventions, but their manner of expression is more interesting. The Danish thinker and mystic Kierkegaard has a classification of human beings known as the “Three Stages of Human Life.” He says that each of us lives in one of these three stages:

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An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha – 1

The Message of Religion: “Lover,” not “Slave”; “Being,” not “Having”

Drawing on the words of two Western thinkers, I will make two points. These points are not, of course, their original inventions, but their manner of expression is more interesting. The Danish thinker and mystic Kierkegaard[1] has a classification of human beings known as the “Three Stages of Human Life.” He says that each of us lives in one of these three stages:

1_ The Aesthetic Stage

2_ The Ethical Stage

3_ The Religious Stage

In the aesthetic stage, a person wants to enjoy every pleasure. A person in this stage is exactly like a bee that wants to taste every flower. They are not willing to forgo any pleasures. Generally, we human beings live in this stage. We all love foods, drinks, and clothing. We love all kinds of garments and dwellings. We seek fame, popularity, and so on. We delight in knowledge, power, and the like. From the lowest of these, such as food and drink, to the pursuit of power, knowledge, beauty, and so forth—these form a vast spectrum. As long as we are in this aesthetic stage, we are not willing to give up any of them. Moreover, when we pursue any one of them, we also seek its various forms. For instance, we both love fame and want to become famous in various ways. And this leads us to a state where distraction constantly dominates us. The characteristic of those who live in this stage is that they truly have scattered states of being, because varieties are boundless. Since we pursue variety, we never feel calm and settled.

There is no place where we can say, “This is our abode; we want to stay here.” As soon as we want to settle in one place, a new variety appears, and this journey continues in the same way; hence, there is no settlement, no tranquility. In this stage, a person is exactly like someone who wants to chase their own shadow and catch it, and you know that one can never catch their shadow. This stage is one in which a person fixes their gaze on external objects. If you pay attention, all the blessings we want to attain and the afflictions we want to flee from are external, objective things; and if there are matters that have a conventional status, we have conferred that status upon them and regard them as having externality. Like leadership, which is a conventional matter, but because we ourselves have conferred it, it has become like an external object for us, and we pursue it. Some of these conventional things have become so objectified for us that we consider other objective matters inferior to them.

Avicenna has a very good discussion in Al-Isharat where he says: You might be surprised how a chess player remains transfixed on the game for hours, and the foods and drinks brought to him do not attract his attention. Someone who is not a chess player does not understand the reason for this, but one who is familiar with the game knows that the chess player feels a pleasure compared to which these other pleasures are nothing. He disregards these pleasures because, in his own view, he has attained a higher pleasure. In any case, in this stage, we seek external things, and since these external objects are numerous, approaching infinity in number, we are constantly running after them.

اما بعضی از این مرحله گذشته‌اند و به مرحله دوم یعنی مرحله اخلاقی رسیده‌اند. در این مرحله التفات انسان از اشیای خارجی می‌برد. تمام هم و غمش مصروف یکی سری اصول می‌شود یک سلسله ضوابط و معاییر اخلاقی. من در تمام طول زندگی باید طوری زندگی کنم که این چند اصل را زیر پا نگذارم (حالا کاری نداریم که این اصول را از کجا کسب می‌کند البته تعبیر کی‌یرکگور این است که انسان در این مرحله به شرطی اخلاقی به حساب می‌آید که این ضوابط را خودش برای خود وضع کند) انسان در این مرحله فقط به این ضوابط توجه دارد و به دیگر امور بی‌توجه است این ضابطه‌ها به چند لحاظ با هم متفاوت هستند:

الف) از نظر منشا که این‌ها را از کجا کسب می‌کنیم گاه خود خواسته‌اند و گاه از دیگری کسب شده است. البته این‌ها که از خود من برخاسته‌اند خیلی متفاوت است با آن‌ها که از دیگری پرسیده‌ام.

ب) از نظر تعداد هرکس به چند اصل معتقد است. «سیجویک» فیلسوف معروف انگلستان می‌گفت: اصلی که من برای خود انتخاب کرده‌ام این است که با دیگران چنان رفتار کنم که دوست می‌دارم با من رفتار کنند. این همان است که از قدیم به آن «قاعده طلایی»[۲] می‌گفتند. کسی مثل برتراندراسل می‌گفت به دو اصل معتقدم یکی این‌که «به هیچ انسانی ظلم نکنم» و دیگر این‌که «هر استعدادی در خود سراغ دارم شکوفا کنم». به هرحال انسان‌هایی که این‌گونه زندگی می‌کنند در مرحله اخلاقی به‌سر می‌برند. این مرحله مرحله کمی نیست. بگذریم از این‌که به عقیده کی‌یرکگور نسبت به مرحله بعد فرومایه است ولی خود این مرحله بسیار ارزشمند است. در این مرحله زندگی دو ویژگی دارد که در مرحله اول نداشت اولاً در مرحله اول آرامش در کار نیست. انسان پیوسته دوان است؛ چیزی بدست می‌آورد چیز دیگر می‌خواهد. و همین‌طور … دایماً بالاتر را می‌خواهد. و تازه این بالاتر خواستن‌ها همه از یک سنخ است. این تشتت افکار که در مرحله اول است در این مرحله دوم مطلقاً نیست. در اینجا به آرامشی می‌رسیم، چرا؟ چون هرچه می‌خواهد در عالم خارج رخ بدهد من هستم و این اصولم. و این اصول هستند که باید محفوظ بمانند. آنچه در عالم خارج رخ می‌دهد با وجود تنوع‌ها و تشتت‌ها مرا متشتت نمی‌کند. پریشانی بسیاربسیار کمتر شده است اگر مدعی نشویم که اصلاً پریشانی نیست. ثانیاً در مرحله اول به اشیای خارجی دلباخته بودیم ولی در مرحله دوم به اصول درونی دلباخته‌ایم.

در این مرحله یک عطف نظری کرده‌ایم از اشیای خارجی به درون خود. این اصول برای فرد چونان ظروف بلورینی هستند که فرد پیوسته مراقب است که به آنها صدمه‌ای نرسد. شما توجه کنید که انسان وقتی یک «پاکت میوه» به دست دارد رفتارش بسیار متفاوت است با وقتی که یک «بلور» در دست دارد. در مورد اول همه کاری می‌کند و توجهی هم به پاکت میوه ندارد ولی وقتی ظرف بلورینی در دست دارد، در تمام حالات و رفتارش متوجه ظرف است که مبادا حرکتی کند که به ظرف خدشه‌ای وارد شود. فرد به همه چیز بی‌اعتنا است چرا؟ چون دلنگران ظرف خود است.

از حضرت علی(ع) می‌پرسیدند شما چگونه به این حالت رسیده‌اید می‌فرمودند: «از ابتدای کودکی دربان دل خود بودم» مواظب بودم که چه کسی می‌آید و چه کسی می‌رود، آن که می‌آید چرا می‌آید و آن که می‌رود چرا می‌رود. این حالت دربانی حالتی است که در این مرحله حتماً انسان باید داشته باشد.

اما مرحله سومی هم در انسان وجود دارد که کی‌یرکگور آنرا «مرحله دینی» می‌نامد. در مرحله دینی ما باز از اصول به عالم خارج بر می‌گردیم منتهی این حالت با حالتی که در مرحله زیباشناختی داشتیم فرق می‌کند. در مرحله اول به همه اشیا دلباخته بودیم و در مرحله دینی به یک شی از اشیا خارجی دل باخته‌ایم. «عشق» دقیقاً ویژگی مرحله دوم است. من بارها گفته‌ام که دین مقدمه اخلاق نیست بلکه اخلاق مقدمه دین است. عقیده من دقیقاً مثل عقیده کانت است. منتهی از جهت دیگری کانت می‌گفت ما دین را برای اخلاق نمی‌خواهیم. اخلاق را برای دین می‌خواهیم. اخلاق مقدمه ورود به دین است و نه برعکس و واقع هم همین است. آدم اول باید اخلاقی شود اگر در اخلاقی شدن، استکمال پیدا کرد آنگاه متدین می‌شود.

Well, at this stage we return once more to external objects. Not to all of them, however, but to one external object; we fall in love with that object. Once we have fallen in love with it, whatever it commands, that is what we do. Our relationship with it is not a “slave and master” relationship, but a “lover and beloved” one. A human being who has not passed through the ethical stage, even if they enter religion, their conception of religion is the conception of slave and master, of servant and lord. But if they enter religion after the ethical stage, their relationship with that being is a lover-and-beloved relationship, and these two connections differ from one another. A servant, of course, does not transgress the command of his master, but why? Because he fears being disciplined. Yet if this same servant falls in love, he also receives commands from his beloved, but this obedience is very different from obedience to his master. These two states of obedience differ in three respects:

Firstly, in the first state, what compels him to obedience is “fear.” But in the second state, it is “love” that commands him.

Secondly, in the first state, if he moves beyond the master’s reach, he will do things contrary to his command. Why? Because all that compelled him to obey was fear. Fear rules only when the master is watching. Now, if the master is not watching somewhere, he will do other things—either things not commanded by him, or, in addition, things that are forbidden by him. But for one who is in love with another, the non-physical presence of the beloved is not an issue at all. Therefore, fleeing from the command never finds meaning. Because obedience is not a burden for the lover that he would want to shirk; it is for the slave that obedience is a “burden.”

Thirdly, in the first state, the slave, even if he does not express it, when he does something for the master, he feels he has placed an “obligation” upon him, that he has, after all, done something for him. But the lover who does something for the beloved not only does not feel he has placed an obligation, but feels obliged himself, and this makes a great difference. The mere fact that he was able to do something for the beloved and that the beloved accepted it is an obligation the beloved places upon the lover, not the other way around. We usually do not pay attention to this matter, and that is why in religion we constantly say we must “discharge our duty.” Duty (taklif) means “hardship.” A hardship has come upon my shoulders that I must, by any means, lift from my shoulders, discharge it.

Now, the fact that Islam says “Do not consider your Islam a favor to me” (it is mentioned in the Quran: O Prophet, tell the people that your becoming Muslim is not a favor you hold over me) points to this notion: do not imagine that God is like a master upon whom you can place an obligation when you do something. This is not the state at all. We are obliged that God has made us the subject of His command. You have seen that some mystics, in interpreting that verse of the Quran, “O you who have believed, decreed upon you is fasting as it was decreed upon those before you that you may become righteous,” say that all the bitterness a person endures during fasting is forgotten solely because of the phrase “O you who have believed.”

The very fact that a human being sees such honor in himself that God has addressed him is a source of pride. Consider a master who has two slaves; when he calls one, the other is happy that no burden has come upon his shoulders. But if two people are in love with one beloved, when the beloved calls one of them, the other becomes upset. Even higher than this, the mystics said that when the beloved even commits cruelty against the lover, the lover is happy even with his cruelty, because it is clear that he takes him into account.

If with others he had an inclination, why then did Layla break my vessel?

The very fact that she has broken my vessel shows that she has a turn of attention toward me. This regard [3] itself is worth any price.

If we return to Kierkegaard's terminology, he says that in the religious stage you fall in love with only one being among external beings, and for this reason, your life not only finds the peace it more or less had in the ethical stage, but also acquires a "sweetness and delight." It is in this third stage that even ethical principles are held for naught. If the beloved's command conflicts with ethical principles, it is of no consequence. A very good example he himself gives, and to which he paid attention throughout his life, is the example of "Abraham and Isaac." He said the story of Abraham and Isaac is the quintessential example of those who, because they live in the religious stage, hold even ethical principles for naught. It is stated in the Torah and the Quran that Abraham told Isaac that he had repeatedly seen in a dream that he was sacrificing him. Isaac, too, was in a state of submission and said, "Do it," or "O my father, do what you are commanded." Do whatever you have been told, O my dear father, O my beloved father. He did not say, "O father" — "Ya abi." His address is precisely accompanied by a tone of compassion and affection.

Kierkegaard says that according to the "ethical stage," Abraham's cutting off the head of an innocent human being is contrary to ethical rules. Outwardly, the cutting off of Isaac's head was an imposition upon both Abraham and Isaac. He had to kill an innocent child, and Isaac, too, had to be killed innocently. But neither in the Torah nor in the Quran is there any mention of these concerns and temptations. Both are in a state of pure submission. Some narrations recount the subtleties and nuances of this story. Among them is that the son did not look into his father's eyes so that he would not be overcome with shame. Because he understood that the father was obeying the command of someone who was his beloved. You see that although a command contrary to ethics is issued, neither of the two even suggests that this command is contrary to ethical principles. Because these two no longer lived in the ethical stage. In the religious stage, the command must not be measured by ethical standards. Because the relationship is one of lover and beloved, but if the relationship were that of a servant and a master, the servant has the right to tell the master that such-and-such command of yours is contrary to ethical principles. (Whether he wants to evade his command or truly believes in ethical principles). But in the relationship of lover and beloved, such talk no longer exists.

Regarding Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq (peace be upon him), it is said that someone asked, "Why do you not rise up?" The Imam replied that they did not have a supporter upon whose help they could rely. That person said, "You have more than a hundred thousand Shi'a in Iraq." His Holiness said, "Which of them are of the kind that if I kindled a fire and told them to enter it, they would go?" Now, what I want to say is this: if His Holiness were to tell us to enter the fire, what would we do? What we would do depends on which stage we are living in. What is our conception of him? The conception of a master or the conception of a beloved?

Kierkegaard said that in this stage, whatever issues from the beloved is the very standard of ethics; it should no longer be compared with ethical standards and obeyed only if it conforms. No, this matter is not even a consideration. Kierkegaard does not treat the issue of Abraham and Isaac as an exceptional and temporary matter. He treats it to show that there have been people who lived in this stage, and if you wish to be religious, you must bring yourself to this stage. Now, if you wish to see this instance of contravening ethical standards in religion, you will see that it is not confined to just one. Pay attention to the disagreement between Moses and the righteous servant. Moses acted precisely according to ethical standards, but that righteous servant (whom we do not know, and commentators have said was Khidr) went beyond Moses, or at least thought beyond Moses in that stage. Moses said there is no reason whatsoever for us to exact retribution before a crime is committed. Killing a person for the crime that he will kill his parents in the future is compatible with no ethical or rational rule. If you kill him, he will not remain to kill anyone. Therefore, you have not even exacted retribution before a crime, but rather exacted retribution without a crime. Reflect on this matter. What justification does this have? Is it anything other than that if the righteous servant is commanded to cut off someone's head, ethical standards no longer apply?

So note that when there is a discussion of rational or religious good and evil, these are on one horizon. But on a higher horizon, we must have a loving state toward God, and therefore, all of God's commands and prohibitions are obeyed, without question. Then, if you enter the religious stage without having passed through the ethical stage, your conception of God is the conception of a master. Your conception of God will become that of the Beloved only on the condition that you have passed through the ethical stage, so that "He loves them and they love Him"—God is both lover and beloved, and we too are both lover and beloved.

The gist of my speech in this part is that: first, we must enter religion through the channel of ethics. There is no alternative. Second, if we do not enter religion through ethics, then we understand religion in a more or less distorted sense. We create for ourselves a very bloated lord from God and consider our own state to be that of a servant.

I must mention a point here, which is that you see the terms 'abd (servant) and mawla (master) in the Quran, and this expression is also in the narrations. This is for two reasons: 1) In any case, one must pass through the ethical stage to enter the religious stage. If some have not passed through this stage, naturally the terms 'abd and mawla must be used regarding them. 2) One must never conflate the state of the "agent"[4] with the state of the "witness"[5]. If you film the obediences of a lover, from this film one can derive interpretations of servant and master. Because you do not know what is going on in his heart, you only see the obediences, and since this is so, these obediences, from your perspective as the witness of the story, the observer of it, are interpreted in two ways: one can have a loving interpretation of it, and also an interpretation of the servant-master relationship. Because love is an "inner" matter and obedience is an "outer" matter. Obedience never yields a single interpretation. When we look at others, we see their obediences. But these obediences can be out of "fear" or out of "affection". This relates to the innermost heart of the obedient one. Now, you might give a servant-master interpretation of that obedience, whereas the relationship is a loving one, or vice versa, and this is a problem we have in all the human sciences (social sciences). Without referring to the inner state of the agent, one cannot derive a correct interpretation from the physics and appearance of the act. For this reason, we sometimes suppose someone is behaving devoutly, while they are a lover, and vice versa. This point is seen abundantly in the supplications of Imam Ali (AS) himself; the Imam himself says in the Supplication of Kumayl that what makes me anxious is not Hell at all, but only separation from You. "Habni sabartu 'ala 'adhabik, fa-kayfa asbiru 'ala firaqik". Suppose, my God, that I have endured Your punishment (it is a supposition, for God's punishment is not endurable; this is the speech of a lover), how can I endure separation from You? The talk is not of Heaven and Hell at all. If one goes to Heaven but God is not there, it is Hell.

So note that the speech we were making does not contradict the fact that we sometimes see the terms 'abd and mawla in the Quran and narrations, for two reasons: first, human beings are at different stages, and God, or human beings at different stages, speaks differently; and second, the state of the witness or the agent must not be confused.

Another point I must make is that the 'abd and mawla discussed in jurisprudence is a different story. In the principles of jurisprudence, the conception of the human-God relationship is constantly that of servant and master. Of course, this deals with legal matters, and legal matters are social matters, and for this reason, in the station of legislation and lawgiving, we must analogize God with social masters and servants. This is correct in its own place and has nothing to do with our discussion.

We borrow another point from the renowned German-born American psychoanalyst and psychologist, Erich Fromm (1900). Erich Fromm has a book called To Have or to Be?. He makes a point in this book, and repeatedly in his other works, that we must determine once and for all whether we are the sum of our beings or the sum of our havings. We ordinary people say, I have this, I have that. We constantly predicate ourselves with attributes that belong to the category of possessions. I have such-and-such, I have so-and-so. The sum of my possessions is greater than yours, and so on. But Erich Fromm said we must realize that we are the sum of our beings, not the sum of our possessions! These havings are not limited to what the merchant-minded and those who view everything in a businesslike manner talk about. When you and I rely on our memorized knowledge, we are again paying attention to our havings. Our knowledge is also among our possessions. It is on this basis that we compare individuals. But an important point is that in the act of judgment, one cannot rely on possessions. There is no doubt that when you want to buy books, you go to someone who has newer and better books. When you want to buy your necessities, you go to someone who has better goods. But can we judge people based on their havings in the same way? This is important. Today, our judgments are entirely based on possessions. However, sometimes a person with a low intellectual level limits having to a house, a car, etc., while another values power, and yet another considers knowledge important. But as I have said many times, what makes a chain bad is that it prevents us from moving, not the material of the chain. The chain-ness of the chain, and the badness of the chain, lies in its preventing our action, not its substance. What difference does it make if our feet are bound in copper chains, silver chains, or golden chains?

Unfortunately, we (those of us who are supposedly ahead of others) have contented ourselves with changing the material of the chain. We say some people pursue money, or fame, etc., but we pursue knowledge. Knowledge is also a chain, albeit a golden one. We must work to free our feet. We constantly count on our havings, and these havings are all chains. Why? Because whenever you have something, you set out to preserve it, and when you must constantly watch over it, who is dearer, the guardian or the guarded? The guarded is always dearer than the guardian, because it is clear that we have consented to something dearer than ourselves, we have accepted that our house, our knowledge, etc., be dearer than us.

Erich Fromm said, let us judge our judgments in a way that religions approve of. Religions say, give importance to beings, not havings. And when we are to give importance to beings, not havings, that means we should not even give importance to our own knowledge. See "what you are," not "what you have"; what state you are in, not what things you have. Now, pay attention: if we want to consider this issue, we must incline solely toward "ethics" [6], and the meaning of this is that we must exit from the "science of jurisprudence (fiqh)" and "theology (kalam)" and enter into "ethics." "Jurisprudence," in reality, gives us external dos and don'ts, and "theology" inculcates beliefs in us. But both external dos and don'ts and beliefs are both employed to make us possess "specific moral traits." In "theology," we are told God exists, God is just, God is merciful... Heaven, Hell, the Resurrection, etc., exist (from the category of is and is not). In "jurisprudence," we are told: such-and-such an act is obligatory, or forbidden, etc. (external dos and don'ts, meaning things manifested in our external limbs and organs). Note that all the is and is nots that exist in "theology" and all the external dos and don'ts are all employed in the service of a third matter, and do you know what that third matter is? When we say matters are either from the category of is and is nots, or from the category of dos and don'ts (by rational division), and we also make another rational division that dos and don'ts are themselves of two kinds: internal dos and don'ts and external dos and don'ts. Since this is a rational division, the number of categories does not exceed these three:

1_ Is and Is Not = Theology (Kalam)

2_ External Ought and Ought Not = Jurisprudence (Fiqh)

3_ Internal Ought and Ought Not = Ethics (Akhlaq)

Thus, within the domain of any religion we have no more than three principal sciences: theology, jurisprudence, and ethics. But the question is, which of these is primary? Both theology and jurisprudence are in the service of ethics. When theology tells us that God, the Resurrection, and so on exist, and jurisprudence tells us not to lie, and so forth, both are instilled in us so that we may acquire a particular moral character, so that our inner being may be transformed, so that we may attain a new state within. Ethics alone deals with our “being.” It is in ethics that we become a “new being.” When we emerge from ethics, we are constantly encountering new things, and we must always seek to become a new being, not merely to acquire things we previously lacked. If religion gives our life a particular “direction,” or, in other words, gives my life and yours “another meaning,” or, in a third formulation, makes us a “new being,” then its task with regard to us has been fulfilled. But if religion merely endows us with new possessions, then we are not truly religious. We have merely regarded religion as a legal system intended to safeguard our interests. But if religion gives us direction, gives our life meaning, then we are religious in the true sense. I recommend that friends pay attention to these categories of having and being. This is not, of course, something Erich Fromm said for the first time; he systematized the idea. If you study this book of his (To Have or To Be?) and his other works, you will see that, spiritually speaking, we are far beneath the level of people like him. We envy the state of those who make no claims to revelation, yet surpass us nonetheless. In order to experience what one might call today a psychological shock at how low we have fallen, and for this matter to become intellectually clear, be sure to study the books of Kierkegaard and Erich Fromm in these two respects.

[1] He lived in the nineteenth century and is the founder of the school of existentialism. He himself was a mystic in the true sense of the word and possessed an extraordinary fear of God, and it was this that caused him to pass away very young (at the age of 43). [2] The golden rule [3] Looking out of the corner of one’s eye [4] Agent [5] Spectator [6] In a different sense from what we have said so far.

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An Existential Approach to Nahj al-Balagha – 2

Be Pious and Act with Benevolence!

(From one of his sermons, peace be upon him. It is narrated that a companion of the Commander of the Faithful, named Hammam…) It is narrated that one of the companions of the Commander of the Faithful, named Hammam, who was a devout man, one day said to him: “Describe the God-fearing to me as though I were seeing them. Speak to me in a vivid, lively, and clear manner.” The Imam paused, showing a kind of heaviness and reluctance. (Some have suggested reasons for this heaviness, but in truth the reason is not clear.) Then he gave a brief answer, as if to excuse himself from a detailed reply. He said: “Fear God and act with benevolence.” He mentioned two characteristics: first, be pious toward God, and second, act with benevolence—do good deeds. If you notice, the first characteristic pertains to the inner dimension of the human being, and the second to the outer dimension. The Imam wished to say: be pious within and act with benevolence without. In other words, for an action to be valuable, it must possess both “goodness of the act itself” (husn fi‘li) and “goodness of the agent” (husn fa‘ili). With the word “piety” (taqwa), the Imam points to the goodness of the agent, and with the word “benevolence” (ihsan), to the goodness of the act itself. Our scholars have also said that if a deed is to be beloved by the Exalted Essence, it must possess two kinds of goodness: 1) goodness of the act itself, and 2) goodness of the agent. Goodness of the act itself means the action falls into the category of obligatory acts, recommended acts, or permissible acts. In that case, the act itself is intrinsically good. Acts that are disliked or forbidden lack goodness of the act itself. Goodness of the agent pertains to the doer of the act; that is, in addition to the act possessing goodness in itself, the individual must also have a correct intention. The outward, physical form of the act is not sufficient for its acceptance; what matters is the intention that lies behind the act. As the Noble Prophet (peace be upon him) said: “How many a one recites the Qur’an while the Qur’an curses him!” Reciting the Qur’an possesses goodness of the act itself, but it is not certain that it always possesses goodness of the agent as well. It may well be that a person undertakes this act for ungodly purposes. The Imam then refers to a verse of the Qur’an which states: “God is with those who are pious and who act with benevolence.”

But Hammam was not satisfied with this answer and insisted so much that he made the Imam swear an oath to continue his speech. At this point, the Imam relented and, after praising and extolling[1] God and sending blessings[2] upon the Prophet, said: God Almighty created creatures, but when He created them, two attributes characterized God Almighty: first, that He was independent of the creatures’ obedience, and second, that He was secure from their disobedience. (Sin is called disobedience and rebellion because sin is rebellion against God’s command. But sin, merely by being sin, is not an act of disobedience and rebellion; rather, it is in the sinner’s relationship with God that sin becomes sin; otherwise, in that very sin, the individual has practiced a kind of obedience, albeit to the soul that commands to evil.)

The reason the Imam says this sentence is to convey that if he advises you toward God-consciousness, it is not to create servants for God out of you. If all of you were to sin, no dust would settle upon the skirt of His majesty, and if all of you were to obey, it would bring God no benefit. I say these things so you know that the benefit of it returns to yourselves, not to God. This point, of course, has been very, very much emphasized by our mystics. They constantly drew attention to God’s self-sufficiency. Now that the Quran says, “It shall have what it has earned, and against it shall be what it has merited,” why should I not bring benefit to myself, and why should I bring harm to myself? If we grasp this, it will be very effective in traversing the path of obedience. But as long as there is even a slight doubt about this matter in a person’s mind, they will not succeed.

Indeed, God Almighty emphasizes in the Quran that not only does God derive no benefit or harm, but the prophets also derive no benefit. “And there came from the farthest part of the city a man running. He said, ‘O my people, follow the messengers. Follow those who ask no reward of you, and who are [rightly] guided…’” From the farthest reaches of the city, a man came running and said to his people: Obey these messengers, for in them are those two qualities you seek in any guide. The two qualities that compel us to listen wholeheartedly to the words of a counselor are, first, awareness—meaning he himself is not lost on the path; rather, with complete clarity, he sees the path he recommends to me. He possesses full expertise and speaks from insight. But this is not enough. There must be a second quality, and that is “benevolence.” This second quality must also be fully established. But what constitutes benevolence? First, one must desire the benefit of the other party, and second, one must not desire one’s own benefit. With these two features, benevolence is complete. Now, that man also reminded his people of these two qualities and said that these prophets possess both qualities: they ask no reward from you in return for the guidance to which they call you (benevolence), and furthermore, they themselves are guided (awareness). This point appears numerous times in the Quran. This sentence is repeated for almost every prophet among the twenty-six prophets named in the Quran.

Therefore, God Almighty Himself is, a fortiori, “independent of their obedience and secure from their disobedience.” Why is God independent of obedience and secure from disobedience? He says: Because one who disobeys Him cannot harm Him, and one who obeys Him cannot benefit Him. He is beyond being benefited or harmed.

(فقسم بینهم …) After creation, God divided the livelihoods[3] of the people among them and granted every creature a position in the world. The point this sentence refers to appears in several places in the Quran; it is presented most completely in Surah Az-Zukhruf, verses 31 to 35. The verse begins by posing an objection. The deniers of the Prophet had an argument, saying: if a message truly comes from the heavens, why was it not revealed to one of the nobles of Mecca and Medina, to one of the notables (the eye-catching ones)? The Quran says: do they think they should decide who receives God's mercy? God's mercy must be distributed by God Himself. The Giver must also be the Distributor. He has given knowledge to one, and wealth, fame, popularity, and beauty to others, and all of these are of the category of mercy. Well, one blessing is the blessing of "prophethood," and I give it to whom I will. The Quran says: "Nahnu qasamna baynahum ma'ishatahum fi al-hayat al-dunya"—It is We who distribute their livelihood. The Imam's phrase is similar to this expression. Then the Quran says it is We who raise some above others in degrees. Why? "Liyattakhidha ba'duhum ba'dan sukhriyyan"—so that some may employ others. An important discussion is raised here, though this is not the place to delve into it. However, to clarify the matter, I will draw attention to three points to make it understandable:

Point 1. The statement "We raise some of them above others in degrees" is not absolute. That is, it does not say that We give some people more knowledge, and also more beauty, power, etc., and give other people less in all these respects. Rather, We give some more knowledge and some less knowledge. In return, to the one We have given less knowledge, We give more beauty, and to the one We have given more knowledge, We give less beauty, and so on. If I am inferior to you in one or some respects, in return, I am superior to you in other respects, and you are the same.

Point 2. If this were not the case, social life would be impossible at all. It is precisely because of these aspects of "superiority" and "inferiority" that social life is possible. In reality, society does not consist solely of servants or solely of masters. Every human being is both a servant and a master, and this is the pivot of social life. If we were only servants or only masters, if one group were to be only servants and another group only masters, social life would never have been established to endure. A need must bind you and me together; if this need does not exist, you and I will not adhere to one another. Why? Because self-love[4] is so strong in the human being that unless a more compelling matter intervenes, you and I will not form a social bond. If it were just us and self-love, we would want everything for ourselves. That is why God Almighty created something else within us, namely that none of us is self-sufficient, and there is no alternative but to draw close to one another to fulfill our needs, since we cannot live alone.

Point 3. That elevation in degrees is "existential" (takwini), not "legislative" (tashri'i). Therefore, this elevation in degrees is in no way a license for exploitation or oppression, and this is very important. If you have looked at the cultural history of the West, or at least if you have seen Marx's books, one of the things that drove him toward an anti-religious tendency was that priests were truly and seriously saying: since God has created everyone differently, let these differences continue. That is, let the rich continue to exploit the poor. One of these priests wrote an article opposing a bill whose content entailed removing or at least reducing the class gap. In it, he said: we want to oppose God's work. God Himself willed that we be different, and for this, he brought forth specious arguments. Then Marx says: look, these are the clerics. These are the ones who favor exploitation.

Some also interpreted these verses in this same manner and did not consider them defensible. However, these verses address existential (takwīnī) needs; they have nothing to do with legislative (tashrīʿī) needs. These verses say that in the realm of creation, We have created you in such a way that these needs remain established. But people like that priest want to exploit this. Exploitations of what God has given someone existentially are no longer related to that creation itself. If someone uses the beauty, power, etc., that God has given them for domination, oppression, etc., it has nothing to do with that God-given blessing. What causes oppression, injustice, and inequity is not the existential differences themselves; rather, it is the exploitation of those differences that causes oppression. These exploitations lie in the area of 'legislation' (tashrīʿ).

[1] Note that there are differences in meaning between ḥamd (praise), madḥ (commendation), shukr (thanks), and thanāʾ (eulogy) in the Arabic language, although they are on the same horizon. I will discuss this difference elsewhere when the occasion arises. [2] Ṣalawāt: acclamation. Salām (peace), durūd (blessings); ṣalawāt is a prayer for good, and salām signifies gratitude and appreciation. [3] Maʿīshat in Arabic, being a mīmī infinitive, means ʿaysh, i.e., living, but in addition, it also means the necessities of life. [4] Psychological egoism.

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An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha – 3

Flying with These Very Small Wings

One of the shortcomings of our mystical and even religious literature is that it always depicts a very ideal and delightful state for us, but it does not tell us how we can reach that state. Saadi said: 'I am in love with the whole world, for the whole world is from Him.' Well, the question is, what must one do to reach this state? How can one love the whole world? They do not say this, and this causes us to remain in deprivation and despair. This shortcoming is remedied when we also write a 'mystical psychology' and 'mystical behaviorology' for our mystical texts, so that we have shown the way. The result of counsel is showing the stages and degrees of traversing the path, but without mystical psychology and behaviorology, only delight, longing, and passion are created, but it yields no result because, in truth, our feet are bound.

Look, among the books that sold very well after the revolution were the books of 'Dr. Castaneda,' in which he presented the teachings of 'Don Juan.' The fact that these books were among the bestsellers could have multiple factors. But the most important factor, in my opinion, is that they do not only contain delightful images; rather, they say that if you want to reach where I have reached, you must do the things I say, step by step. These books come with mystical psychology and behaviorology, and this is important in the spiritual journey (sayr wa sulūk).

Note that reaching very valuable degrees is through actions that seem very insignificant. We must take these small steps. These very small steps slowly, slowly make a person fly spiritually. One can never reach lofty stations with large, sudden steps. Imam Ali (AS) says: sometimes you see spirituality rushing upon you; this rush is indebted to those slow steps.

The second point is that our conception is that for a person to become spiritual, a revolution must occur within them, and this happens suddenly. We are waiting for something to happen, to see a dream, etc., and then that spiritual revolution occurs within us.

جز انسان‌های بسیار بسیار نادر از این راه نتوانسته‌اند بروند که آنهم به توضیح احتیاج دارد. پس این امور همه وقت «تدریجی الوصول» است. دفعی بودن انقلاب روحی هم در فلسفه و هم در تجربه کردن، قابل توجیه نیست. از این نظر، بیان داستان‌هایی مثل داستان فضیل بن عیاض که در تاریخ به‌ندرت مثل او را داریم، برای مردم بدآموزی دارد. چرا؟ چون آن‌وقت ما هم می‌گوییم ما که از فضیل بدتر نیستیم، پس ما هم منتظر آن لحظه می‌مانیم و معمولاً آن لحظه رخ نمی‌دهد. هیچ‌وقت به خود نگویید که من «از فردا انسان خوبی می‌شوم» که اگر اینطور بگویید هیچ‌وقت خوب نمی‌شوید بلکه بگویید «من فردا باید انسان خوب‌تری شوم». آنکه روزی ۵۰ نخ سیگار می‌کشد نباید بگوید از فردا لب به سیگار نخواهم زد، باید بگوید فردا ۴۹ نخ سیگار می‌کشم. این رمز موفقیت اوست. به‌همین جهت که بعضی دنبال انقلاب دفعی هستند، توصیه‌های نهج‌البلاغه به نظرشان پیش‌پاافتاده می‌آید. اما همین لطایف و ظرایف است که ما را به متقین می‌رساند. ببینید ابوذر در مورد «ابوذر شدنش» می‌گوید من به اموال فقرا تجاوز نمی‌کردم، دروغ هم نمی‌گفتم، تنهایی را هم دوست می‌داشتم. همین نکات ریز است که منشاء انقلاب‌های بزرگ روحی است.

اگر دوستان با کتب عرفا و کتاب‌های اخلاقی بعضی از اخلاقیون، مثل کتاب‌های اخلاقی رواقیون آشنایی داشته باشند یا اگر با بعضی متون مقدس بعضی ادیان دیگر – مثل هندو و بودایی – سروکار داشته باشید، مثلاً اگر با کتاب‌های «اوپانیشادها» و «ذمه پده» سروکار داشته باشید، یک توهم به ذهن شما می‌آید و آن اینکه چرا دل‌انگیزی و شکوهی که این متون دارند، در قرآن و روایات وجود ندارد؟ اینکه حضرت علی می‌فرماید تواضع داشته باشید، اقتصاد و میانه‌روی، عدالت و … این‌ها کجا و مطالب بلندی که عین‌القضاه یا مولانا می‌گفت کجا؟

توجه کنید که هیچ‌کس نمی‌‌تواند گام خیلی بزرگ بردارد، گام بزرگ چیزی جز گام‌های کوچک نیست. همین گام‌های کوچکند که گام بزرگ را نتیجه می‌دهند. یکی از اشکالاتی که به بسیاری از عرفا وارد است، این است که به ما منظره‌های بسیار جالب نشان می‌دهند، اما نمی‌گویند که به این‌ها چگونه می‌توان رسید. باید هم وضع مطلوب را نشان دهند و هم بگویند چگونه می‌توان از وضع موجود و نامطلوب خود می‌توان به وضع مطلوب و ناموجود رسید.[۲] در زمینه علوم اجتماعی هم همین‌طور است. مگر کم کسانی بوده‌اند که مدینه فاضله و اتوپیا ترسیم کرده‌اند؟ اما چرا شکست خورده‌اند؟ چون در راه نشان دادن عاجز بوده‌اند. حالا این مساله در زمینه مسائل اخلاقی به طریق اولی موجود است. شما کتاب‌های نامه‌های عین‌القضاه همدانی یا دیوان شمس را مطالعه کنید، محال است در برابر آنچه این‌ها تصویر می‌کنند حالت تأثر از وضع خود پیدا نکنید و در شما نوعی طلب و اشتیاق حاصل نشود. اما اگر از آن‌ها بپرسید «چگونه؟» می‌بینید هیچ توصیه‌ای ندارند. حال، اینکه در قرآن و روایات به جزئیات پرداخته‌اند به‌خاطر این است که خواسته‌اند راه رسیدن از وضع نامطلوب موجود را به وضع مطلوب ناموجود بیان کنند. بنابراین نباید با کتاب‌های عرفانی و … مقایسه شوند. چون آنکه راه را می‌نمایاند، خدمت بیشتری می‌کند از آنکه فقط باغ خرم را نشان می‌دهد و ما را در شعف و طلب باقی می‌گذارد.

«فالمتقون فیها اهل الفضائل» چه فضایلی؟

«منطقهم الصواب»؛ سخنشان صواب است البته می‌دانید سخن صدق با سخن صواب فرق دارد. هر سخن صدقی صواب نیست، البته هر سخن صوابی، صدق است. اگر سخن راست است، باید به‌جا هم باشد و چنین سخنی مجموعاً سخن صواب است. نکته: سخن صواب پنج ویژگی دارد:

1_ در سخن صواب هیچ دروغی راه ندارد.

2_ در سخن صواب هرچه گفته می‌شود راست است (مطابق با واقع)

3_ همه حقیقت گفته می‌شود، نه بعضی از حقیقت که بعضی از حقیقت را گفتن بدتر از دروغ است؛ چون دروغ زود یا دیر معلوم می‌شود اما این نه. (اینکه بگویم من شاگرد فلان‌کس بوده‌ام، راست است اما باید یگویم «و هنوز هم شاگرد او هستم». چون در حالت اول چه‌بسا توهم شود که دیگر نیازی به تعلیم ندارم و چه‌بسا از استاد خود تقدم هم جسته‌ام). این کل حقیقت‌گفتن است که خیلی مورد اهمیت است و گرنه آن‌ها که دروغ می‌گویند، ناشیانه عمل می‌کنند، چون دروغ دیر یا زود معلوم می‌شود[۳]

4. A correct word must be spoken only at the time of necessity (timeliness of speech) and to the extent of necessity. I earnestly submit that nothing darkens the human spirit as much as loquacity; nothing plunges the human spirit into darkness as much as loquacity. Imam Ali (AS) says somewhere in Nahj al-Balagha: “Speak as little as you can, for he who speaks excessively errs in proportion to his excess of speech, and he who errs much increases in heedlessness, and he whose heedlessness increases, his modesty diminishes, and he whose modesty diminishes, God will admit him into Hell.”

The mystics tell us that the principle is not speaking; speaking is the exception. We usually think the opposite. We suppose that the one who outpaces others in speaking is more learned. But the one who has better understood the value of silence is wiser. Even the Prophet, whose speech was nothing but guidance, nonetheless said: “When I speak, my heart gathers rust,” even though there was no error or falsehood in his speech, and it was for this reason that he said: “I seek forgiveness from God seventy times a day for my speaking.” This shows that the very act of speaking, even if timely and measured, brings darkness; let alone when these words contain a thousand psychological impurities and satanic desires. Therefore, I recommend that you be most miserly in this regard. One of the great ones says: “I am amazed at those who are miserly in every respect, yet are the most generous of all in speech.” Of course, there is no doubt that, despite what we have just said, when the occasion for speaking arises, it must be expressed to the extent necessary. Indeed, if one does not speak at the time of necessity, that itself is a sin that devalues any silence.

5. A correct word should not invite anyone to me, but rather should cause an invitation to “the Other.” Pay attention to why the Imam says of himself: “I am the Supreme Sign of God.” We must all be a Sign of God. “Ayah” means “signboard,” meaning “mark” and “indicator.” Unfortunately, we are not signboards. Because a signboard says: look at me, but do not see me; rather, see the road by means of me. In other words, do not look at me, but look with me. Whoever looks at the signboard and stares at it has, in fact, defeated the purpose. One benefits from a signboard who does not stare at it; he glances at the signboard and grasps what he must grasp. He looks at the road with the signboard. So one must look at the road. The fact that the Imam said “I am the signboard of God” means I invite no one to myself. But our words usually attract others to “us,” and not to “the Truth” or to “duty.” When we speak, we feel a deficiency in our own self; we speak to attract attention. But as that great mystic said, “Speak so that you may hide yourselves,” and this is the property of being a signboard. Whenever the Imam says something about himself, he immediately alerts us that he said this so that you may know that from here, one can reach somewhere else.

“Their clothing is moderation [4]”; they wear moderate clothing. (We assume the ordinary meaning of clothing.) Wearing moderate clothing has numerous benefits. Moderate clothing means it is neither below the average level of the people nor above it, and very, very many effects follow from it. I recommend that you never dress above or below the average level of the people, and do not approve of it. Do not approve of your own honor and the humiliation of others, and on the other hand, do not approve of your own humiliation and the arrogance of others; the former is a harm that follows from dressing above the average, and the latter from dressing below the average. These are two major harms of dressing above and below the average; I will mention the other harms.

Islam wants us to be neither like the superiors nor like the inferiors, but rather like the people. Khalil ibn Ahmad said: “O God, make me, in Your sight, among the best (highest) of people, and in the sight of the people, like the people, and in my own sight, among the lowest (most base) of people.” O God, I want three states: I want that whenever You look at me, You see me as better than all servants, and whenever I look at myself, I see myself as lower than all, and whenever people look at me, they see me as neither lower nor higher. This is a very, very important prayer, and it is a significant matter to know that we have three observers in life: God, myself, and other human beings, and it is good for these three observers to have three different perspectives. One must journey in these three directions.

Now, the reason they say “be like the people among the people” is that if they see me as above them, they will humble themselves before me, and if they see me as beneath them, they will act arrogantly toward me and humiliate me. Whereas humility should be before God, and no servant should be humiliated. So why, even if we are wealthy, should we not dress above the average, and why should we not dress below the average? If I wear clothes that are below the average of the people, by dressing in rags, the people—and especially those I encounter in the streets and alleys—will look down on me. This is the first effect of my ragged clothing: that you look down on me. Do not say that this is an incorrect view that people form of me upon seeing my clothes. They should not judge in this way. Yes, they should not, but this view exists. From a religious perspective, I should not form a negative opinion of someone based on their clothing; this is true, but do human beings, in all ages, times, and places, do this or not? Let me give another example: if I see that you frequent a gathering that is not of good repute, from a legal (shar‘ī) standpoint, I have no right to consider you a dissolute person and so on, because it has been said, “Avoid much suspicion.” This is correct, but on the other hand, it has been said, “Avoid situations that invite suspicion.” Avoid places where, by going there, a good judgment will not be made about you. So both of these statements are true. I have been told not to judge badly, and you have been told not to do things that would cause you to be accused. Do not do things that are usually subject to people’s suspicion. The correspondence of this example with our own discussion is that, on the one hand, we should not judge people by their clothes, but people usually do this, and since this is the case, we have no right to dress below the average. (Provided, of course, that it is within our financial means). This is the first harm; one cannot say, “I will preserve my dignity inwardly.” The dignity that must be preserved inwardly is the dignity you must hold for yourself, and much dignity is realized in social relations between individuals. The consequences that follow from this contemptuous attitude of the people are that people do not pay attention to my words, they do not value my judgments. They do not care about my likes and dislikes. My existence and non-existence become almost equal, if I do not say that sometimes my existence becomes a nuisance to them. In Islam, it is said that a believer must both hold himself in dignity inwardly and must not humiliate himself before others outwardly. To this extent, it has even been said that one should not joke excessively. One of the reasons for not attaching importance to joking excessively is that when a person jokes too much, people no longer take him seriously. This kind of loss of dignity is not permissible in Islam. For this reason, the jurists and other mystics disapproved of the practices of the Malāmatiyya Sufis. They would say, “Anything that makes me appear contemptible in the eyes of others causes self-conceit (‘ujb) to vanish within me.” Hence, they would engage in any such act, and since self-conceit is the greatest spiritual illness, they would say, “We resort to any cure.” The jurists would say, “Yes, self-conceit must be eliminated, but when you eliminate self-conceit in this way, you also lose something else, and that is dignity. Self-conceit must be eliminated in another way.” Someone said to Imam Ja‘far al-Ṣādiq (peace be upon him), “Why have you worn fine clothes?” The Imam opened the collar of his garment and showed that underneath it he was wearing a coarse garment, and said, “I have worn this for myself so that I do not become soft and indolent, but I have worn that for the people so that my dignity is preserved.”

Now, why should we not dress above the average? This has very, very undesirable effects, especially when we consider the livelihood aspects of the matter. Firstly, we have fueled the situation where others feel humiliated before him, and he feels self-conceit before them. Why should we give others the opportunity to be humiliated by us? Wearing fine, aristocratic clothing causes a) the ground for self-regard to arise within us, and b) others to see themselves as abased before us. That is, my self-conceit and the humiliation of others.

Another reason that must be mentioned for this meaning is that when we wear luxurious clothes, others who cannot afford such clothes become distressed by their own situation. If we cannot bring material well-being to people, let us at least bring them psychological well-being. They would say to Imam Ali (AS), 'You, who with this way of life cannot help all the poor escape poverty, and in this manner poverty will not be eradicated, why do you clothe your own children in garments of a middling standard, when it is within your financial means to dress them in better clothes?' The Imam would reply: 'Yes, it is within my means, but if a wife says to her husband,

The final point that can be made in this regard is that in life you are always in competition with others. The Quran, too, has accepted the competitive nature of the stage of life: “So race to all that is good.” But let your competition be in good things. Competition in luxury has diverted competition into another corridor and channel. They have not said, “Do not be ambitious”; they have said, “Channel your ambition in the right direction.” Because human beings are ambitious by nature, when you see someone wearing sumptuous clothing, you say, “I must compete in this direction,” and when competitions fall into this channel, where does this cycle lead? It is like when, in a clamor, I speak loudly so that my voice reaches you; well, others, so that their voices may be heard, speak even louder, and so it continues. Now, since we are competitive by nature, why should we compete in a direction that has neither an end nor a victor or champion? Whether we apparently win or lose, we have lost. Why do we not compete in humility (inner humility, where we truly do not consider ourselves superior to you, not flattering humility, which is a kind of arrogance)? Why do we not compete in spiritual matters, from which we all may benefit? As philosophers say, the world is a realm of conflict. In the world, one thing cannot belong to two people; but in spiritual matters, one thing can belong to all of us at the same time. However, in material matters, your outwardly luxurious life is unbearable for others; they strive to surpass you, then you strive to surpass them, and so on… and where do we end up? We only come to our senses when death has already come for us.

Now, these points that exist regarding clothing, we repeat in all matters. Khalil ibn Ahmad would constantly say: “O God, make it so that whenever You look upon me, You see me as the best of Your servants (competition in good deeds and spiritual matters), and whenever I look upon myself, I see myself as the worst of Your servants, and whenever people look upon me, they see me as one like themselves.” If these three observers see us in this way, life becomes desirable. Regarding the first observer (God), we become the best of His servants when we compete in spiritual matters, and regarding the second observer (ourselves), we must truly see ourselves as less than others. Because we are not aware of the inner state of others, but we are aware of our own inner state. The garden we see within ourselves contains withering and blights. So we should strongly assume that the garden within others is more flourishing than the garden within you. This causes us to truly see ourselves as less than others. To truly consider ourselves lower than others, because we see our own lowliness. As that mystic said, one should not even see the murderer of a saint of God as lower than oneself, because it is by no means certain what ups and downs he will traverse until the time of death and what path you will traverse. There is no evil of which it can be said that it will remain evil until the end of life, and there is no good of which it can be said that it will remain good until the end of life; there is no guarantee in any direction. This is why Jacob said to his sons: “And do not die except while you are Muslims,” and he did not say, “Have faith,” because there is no guarantee that we will be Muslims at the time of death. And when is the time of death? It is unknown. Therefore, we must always keep ourselves in a state of submission.

Regarding the third observer (people), there are the same discussions I mentioned. So you see how significant this advice, which seems small and trivial, is. The same statement applies to humility as well.

«و مشیهم التواضع»؛ if you take «مشی» in its literal sense, the phrase means «they walk humbly,» and if you take it in its figurative sense, it means «their conduct is humble.» Humility, of course, differs from belittling oneself before others. Sometimes we belittle ourselves before others in order to obtain something that is in their possession. But this is, in fact, abasement, not humility. Inwardly, I am a Pharaoh, but because I have encountered a greater Pharaoh, I act humbly—and most of our humility is flattery. Inwardly, we are wolves; however, every wolf abases itself before a stronger wolf. We do not want, as Hobbes says, for man to be a wolf to man; we want man to be a friend to man. Imam Ali (peace be upon him) recommended humility and was himself humble. He was the same person who said: «If a mountain were to love me, it would crumble.» He held himself in such high esteem, yet he constantly displayed behavior that made it clear he truly considered himself lowly. Although he deemed himself honorable in his own place, for a servant of God is only lowly before God. His companions said that he constantly smiled at us, but his awe prevented us from daring to speak. Of Imam Sajjad, it has been said that he was so modest that he kept his eyes perpetually fixed on the ground, yet others also kept their eyes on the ground out of reverence for him. It was his majesty that created a sense of sanctity. This creating of sanctity differs from when a person creates it for himself. For example, someone says, 'Since I am a professor, I must sit in the front row of the gathering.' Creating sanctity has two ways: one is that your character, whether others want it or not, creates a sense of sanctity for you. And the other is that you yourself seek to create a sense of sanctity for yourself through certain actions, and this is harmful.

[1]. Faculty of Theology, University of Tehran, 1990–91 [2] On these matters you can consult the book Dhammapada (The Path of Truth). This book is one of the sacred texts of the East (China, India, Japan, etc.). In this book, beautiful states are depicted in such a way that the disciple feels their sweetness in the soul. However, it only shows us a lush garden but does not state the way to reach it. [3] Question: Is this the same as toriya (dissimulation)? Professor: One can have a jurisprudential assessment of toriya and an ethical assessment. One must never equate what is found in jurisprudence with what is found in ethics. If you establish a religious-legal justification for toriya, it only indicates that toriya does not cause you to be punished, but in ethics we want something more than merely avoiding punishment and receiving reward. When Imam Ali (AS) said: 'I am not so fearful of going to Hell as I am of being distant from You,' it means that human beings should know that nearness to God is something beyond not going to Hell. It is possible for someone not to go to Hell yet not have attained nearness to God. What we seek in ethics is to become a more complete human being; we do not want to merely do everything according to jurisprudential standards. Can someone act according to jurisprudential standards their whole life, yet be in the lowest depths of Hell? Is it not possible for someone to pray and pay khums out of hypocrisy for a lifetime... and gain no benefit at all? I have often said that the one who tramples over you and me, harms people here and there... in order to reach the first row of prayer, has in fact sacrificed ethics for jurisprudence. The one who, in the words of a Western mystic, says 'Bring me my prayer book so I can pray,' has uttered a contradictory statement (though it contains no logical contradiction). What benefit does he derive from this prayer? There are statements that contain no logical contradiction, but in practice they are entirely contradictory. We are not concerned here with the tricks and techniques that have been prescribed to make the outward aspect of our lives jurisprudentially correct. Our concern is to leave the world more complete than when we entered it. Of course, a necessary condition for being most complete is also living jurisprudentially, but it is not a sufficient condition. (Living jurisprudentially means living as the jurists recommend.) I have often said that jurisprudential Islam and jurisprudential unbelief are not necessarily salvific or damning. Is jurisprudential Islam attained by anything other than the two testimonies of faith (shahadatayn)? But is it also complete from a spiritual perspective? Jurisprudential Islam does not guarantee your salvation, and on the other hand, jurisprudential unbelief is not necessarily damning either. Jurisprudential Islam and unbelief are only good for the social order of Muslims, but perdition and salvation lie elsewhere. I like to be this way myself, and I also recommend to you: 'Never approach spiritual matters with a merchant's mentality.' One who approaches with a merchant's mentality understands nothing of spirituality except a manual of practical laws (Tawzih al-Masa'il). Pay attention to what the Imam tells you to do and not to do; these are not five jurisprudential issues; the Imam speaks above jurisprudence. Have you ever seen, amidst all this fervent ardor and lamentation, him say once: 'Why don't you perform the ritual ablution (ghusl) properly?' In all this description of the God-fearing (muttaqin), which part is a jurisprudential ruling? A jurisprudential ruling is far below what a human being needs, though of course it is itself needed, but our entire need does not lie within it. [4]. Economy (iqtisad) in its original Arabic sense means 'moderation.' Luqman told his son: 'Waqtasid fi mashyik' (Be moderate in your walking). Walk the middle path. Economy at that time was what we today call 'moderation' (i'tidal). [5]. Note that the average standard of living during the time of Imam Ali (AS) was very low. From the time of Mu'awiya, the average standard rose due to the conquests that took place and the spoils they brought. [6]. I recommend you see the play 'Faust' by Goethe. It depicts well how a person sometimes sells their soul to gain the world in return.

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An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha – 4

Everything Arises from Within You

'Ghaddu absarahum 'amma harrama Allahu 'alayhim' They lower their eyes from what God has forbidden them. Note that 'ghadd al-basar' (lowering the gaze) is different from 'closing the eyes.' The Qur'an also says to practice 'ghadd al-basar.' Ghadd means to turn the eye from a direction that is forbidden to another direction. Usually, it is asked that we have a downcast eye, and this means ghadd, not closing the eyes.

I should mention a point about looking. The reason it is said do not look at a non-mahram is not because we harm the non-mahram. No, rather, we harm ourselves. The same applies to hijab. Some think that when they observe hijab, they are doing a service to others. But this is not the case. The one who dresses appropriately does a service to themselves. In the same way, the one who does not look at a non-mahram does not do a service to the non-mahram; they only do a service to themselves. If we suffer loss or gain benefit, it is from our own side and our own actions. We must pay great attention to this point: if we do what we ought to do and are constantly concerned with what we are doing to ourselves, others can do us no harm, and the wonder is that we pay no attention at all to the harms we inflict upon ourselves. We feel no pain whatsoever, we suffer no distress, and we constantly harbor the illusion that others are harming us. In other words, benefits and harms come from the realm of our voluntary actions, not from what is beyond our control. This is what the mystics of all schools, and our mystics too, reinforce: that you benefit and suffer loss solely and exclusively from your own voluntary actions, and nothing else. That is, no benefit or loss comes to you from your involuntary actions or the voluntary actions of others. These neither bring us down nor raise us up.

Therefore, when His Holiness says: 'They lower their eyes from what God has forbidden them,' they are precisely doing a favor to themselves, not to others. Now, note that (I am not concerned with the jurisprudential discussion) what is forbidden is casting a lustful look. Mere 'looking' is not forbidden. Sometimes I do not look, but, as the Quran says, there is a disease in my heart, and I covet the non-mahram through speech. If there is no coveting involved, then neither looking, nor speaking, nor listening is forbidden. But if coveting enters the picture, even if there is no looking, it is forbidden. The fact that we are watchful of what passes through our hearts—this is the work of ethics and has nothing to do with jurisprudence, because it says do not look with suspicion. This has been said because of its 'suspicion,' not because of its 'being a look.' Furthermore, it has been said do not listen with suspicion either, and this pertains to the heart.

«و وقفوا اسماعهم علی العلم النافع لهم» they have devoted, dedicated their ears to knowledge that is beneficial to them. That is, firstly, if a discourse does not add to their prior knowledge, they do not listen to it; they do not listen to idle and useless talk, and secondly, they listen to knowledge that is beneficial. In Islam, knowledge is never sacred for its own sake; rather, it is sacred because of the benefits that accrue from it. In Islam, it is said that knowledge can be beneficial and it can be harmful. Knowledge in itself is neutral, and the consequences that follow from it must be taken into account. Thus, beneficial knowledge is knowledge from which worldly benefit or otherworldly benefit ensues. Of course, some have held that knowledge is sacred by virtue of its uncovering reality, regardless of its benefit or harm. In the supplication after the noon prayer, it is stated that we seek refuge in God from knowledge that brings harm. The question is: how can knowledge, in the sense of uncovering reality, be harmful? It can be harmful in two cases: 1. When neither worldly benefit nor otherworldly benefit follows from that knowledge. It solves no worldly or otherworldly problem. This type of harm pertains to the knowledge itself. 2. When knowledge is harmful, not from the side of the knowledge itself, but from the side of the learner. From the side of the vessel into which the knowledge is to be poured. But we have different capacities (the story of Salman and Abu Dharr). It is not the case that if knowledge is beneficial for one person, it is beneficial for others as well. If knowledge is to bring benefit, one must see to whom it brings benefit and to whom it does not. The mystics used to say that we must have two kinds of instruction: one kind of exoteric instruction, which can be universal and accessible to the public, and one kind of esoteric instruction, which requires an intimate confidant. Therefore, knowledge can be harmful from this aspect, if it is not placed in its proper vessel. In my view, one of the weaknesses of modern Western culture is that it sees all human beings as identical. They say that if something is worth saying, it must be said to everyone, and if it is not worth saying, it should not be said to anyone. This humanistic view does not attend to the differences in people's states; it sees everyone as cut from the same cloth. But from a religious perspective, this is not so. Imam Sajjad (peace be upon him) used to say that I carefully select individuals and speak to them according to their capacity. Now, there is a difference between these two harms. The first harm is for the learner to know, and the second harm is for the teacher to understand[۱].

«نزلت انفسهم فی البلاء کاللتی نزلت فی الرخاء» The souls of the pious are in tribulation as others are in ease. Just as ordinary people find comfort in ease, they find tranquility in hardship. For us, tranquility depends on our comfort; if we are comfortable, we become tranquil, but the God-fearing, whether in tribulation or in ease, do not lose their serenity and dignity [2]. Even if they are outwardly unsettled, have lost their job, are afflicted with troubles, and so on… they do not lose the stillness and tranquility of the heart. One of the most important elements of Stoic ethics is precisely this: the recommendation to ensure that your tranquility is not tied to your comfort. Sever this connection. That is, what passes in your heart should not depend on what passes upon your body. One of the scholars of exceedingly profound insight and advanced in mysticism was the late Sheikh Mohammad Hossein Gharavi Esfahani (the teacher of Allameh Tabatabai in philosophy and principles of jurisprudence). Few have reached such a degree of perfection in insight and practice. His father was a merchant, in a sense international, and immensely wealthy. After his father's death, all the wealth came to him; he spent it all on his own pursuit of knowledge and on students, giving it all away to others. Two scenes have been recounted about him: one is that one day, as he was walking, a precious rosary he held in his hand slipped and fell. They say he did not even turn back to look at it. It was as if he felt ashamed to stoop down and pick it up from the ground. The other scene was when he had bought onions and was carrying them home; suddenly, the cloth in which the onions were tied came undone and the onions scattered. He stooped down and gathered the onions! Someone who had witnessed both scenes asked him: What was your state at that time and at this time? He swore by Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (peace be upon him) that his state at that time and this time did not differ by an atom. That is, I have not made my inner tranquility dependent on outer comfort. Attaining this state, which is truly commendable, is very difficult. A very, very complete example of this can be seen in Imam Khomeini. I have not seen anyone like him upon whom external affairs had absolutely no effect on his inner peace. The Imam only thought that if I have fulfilled my duty, I am at peace. Whatever happens outwardly, let it happen; and if I have not fulfilled it, I am unsettled, and again, whatever happens outwardly is unimportant. If you reach the point where the only thing that should bring you tranquility or take it away is the fulfillment of duty or the failure to fulfill it. If you have acted, be utterly at peace, even if 'from the catapult of the firmament, stones of strife rain down.' The outside world neither gives me tranquility nor takes it away. External circumstances do not bring inner sweetness and joy. Know this: whoever possesses worldly blessings, others derive more pleasure from them; exactly the opposite of spiritual blessings, from which the person himself benefits. This is a very, very important point: pay attention to which gives pleasure to you yourself and which gives pleasure to others. If it is worldly, you do not derive the pleasure from it that others do; and if it is spiritual, others do not derive the pleasure from it that you do. We must one day reach the point where we sever our connection with reality, and this means not being affected by reality. But because we are in pursuit of duty, we affect reality. So our tranquility should not depend on external matters; it should depend on the fulfillment of duty.

«و لولا الاجل الذی کتب لهم لم‌تستقر ارواحهم فی اجسادهم طرفه عین شوقاً الی الثواب و خوفاً من العقاب» Only death keeps them here; were it not for the compulsion that death imposes, their souls would not remain in their bodies for the blink of an eye. Were it not for the inevitability decreed by the appointed term, they would not stay in this world for a moment. Why? For two reasons: one is that the rewards make them yearn to depart, and the other is that the punishments arouse great fear in them. Fear of punishment would make them give up the ghost from sheer terror, and on the other hand, longing for reward would leave no desire to remain in the world. Imam Ali (peace be upon him) says elsewhere: I enjoin you to five things, for which it would be worthwhile to wear out the soles of your feet against the flanks of camels all your life. If you spend your entire life traveling to attain these five things, it is worth it. Now note that the emphasis being made is by someone in whom neither ignorance, nor greed, nor ill intent has any way. Surely, beneath his emphasis lie subtleties that cannot be obtained through ordinary means. (The emphasis in the sentences is great):

۱. Let none of you attach his heart to any being except God Almighty. Place your hope in no being; be hopeless toward all, for that which is not enduring does not merit attachment.

۲. Let none of you fear anything but his own sin. The fear of God mentioned in the Qur’an is not, in truth, fear of God; it is fear of God’s justice, which is, in reality, fear of our own sinfulness. What brings us to utter ruin is our sin. God is not a terrifying being. God is a being to whom we attach our hearts and whom we love.

۳. If you are asked something you do not know, feel no shame in saying, “I do not know.” Imam Ali (AS) says: Whoever forgets “I do not know” heads toward his own slaughterhouse.

۴. And as soon as you realize you do not know something, do not be ashamed to ask.

۵. Be steadfast, for patience in life is like the head to the body. Just as there is no good in a body without a head, so too is there no benefit in faith without patience. So, exercise forbearance in all matters.

What concerns us here are the first and second parts of this counsel. These individuals place their hope only in God and fear only their own sin. The God-fearing, in the Qur’anic expression, have no “heaviness toward the earth”; they are not stuck to the ground; they do not weigh heavily upon the earth. They are like a leaf that rises with the slightest breeze, not like a heavy weight that even a storm cannot move. There have been people whom a single sentence would shake. Hammam himself was one such person. He, too, was like a light leaf upon which the breeze of the Imam’s words blew and lifted him from the ground.

Imam Sajjad says, “O God, I seek refuge in You from a dry eye.” A tearless eye belongs to one who weighs heavily upon the earth; nothing lifts him. Imam Ali (AS) would say to his companions, “Why are you like this? Why are you not like the companions of the Prophet? They were such that when the Prophet spoke, tears would stream from their eyes, and if you saw them from behind, you would only see their shoulders shaking from the intensity of their weeping.” Now, this absence of “heaviness toward the earth” has signs, one of which is that those characterized by this trait are, as the saying goes, ready to weep at any moment, and were it not for the risk of hypocrisy, they would weep constantly. Weeping arises from a tenderness of spirit and from seeing sin as immense.

“The Creator is magnified in their souls, so what is other than Him appears small in their eyes.” Because God has become great in their souls, all other matters appear small in their eyes.

A point: It is not the case that every attribute belonging to material things also belongs to immaterial things. Among the differences between material and immaterial things, two major ones are of particular interest to our discussion. First, in material things, it is impossible for object A to be near object B, but object B not to be near object A; this is impossible. Yet we have seen that God Almighty is the nearest being to us—“We are nearer to him than his jugular vein”—but you and I are far from Him. Elsewhere in the Qur’an, God says, “Indeed, God comes between a man and his heart,” meaning you are closer to God than to your own heart. Now, you might ask, how is it possible that God is so near to us, yet we are so far from Him? Even the Prophet says, “We have not known You as You truly deserve to be known.” How is such a thing possible? This is because the relation that exists between two material things is different from the relation that exists between two immaterial things, or between an immaterial thing and a material thing. In such cases, this is possible. Second, another difference between material and immaterial things is that material things, if they are small, are small, and if they are large, they are large. One cannot say of this book, for instance, that it is sometimes small and sometimes large. Material things cannot possess contradictory attributes, but this is not the case with immaterial matters. God is small in one person’s view, great in another’s, greater in yet another’s, and greatest in another’s. One cannot say that God possesses a greatness that everyone perceives, and that He is neither greater nor smaller than that. God has a particular greatness and majesty in every heart.

He says: God has become magnified in the souls of the God-wary, for each of us perceives according to the capacity of our own being. He then says that because this is so, everything else appears small in their eyes. We cannot constantly disparage the world to those under our tutelage. By doing this, the world does not become insignificant in their sight. If you want the world to become insignificant, you must show them something greater than the world. If your child has taken your pen, no matter how much you tell them to give it back, they will not; rather, they will grip it even tighter in their hand. You must show them something more beautiful; then you no longer need to say 'give it back'—their hand will involuntarily loosen, and the pen will be released. But we constantly say the world is bad, and the person we are addressing is like that child clutching the world in their fist; they will not simply let go. You must show them something better than the world. The Imam first says: 'The Creator is magnified…' and then says: '…so other things are diminished'; the result of God's magnification in their sight is the belittling of other things in their eyes. As long as the world is sweet on the palate of our soul, we will not relinquish it.

From this perspective, the method of the mystics is superior to the method of the jurists. Mystics first show you and me a more beautiful garden, and this then causes us, without any formalities or procedures, to release what we have been clinging to tightly. But the jurists say you must first pray, fast, and so on, and then enter the garden. The jurists want to dig a channel from the outside inward, but one must dig a channel from the inside outward. One cannot draw an individual toward spirituality through outward rites and practices. First, a love for God must be cultivated in the hearts of others; one must first show gardens greener than the world, and then the individual themselves will ask how to perform the best fast. There is then no need to inculcate anything from the outside. It is like the difference between a spring that gushes from within and our pouring water into a well ourselves and saying, 'Come and draw it.' We must bring about something that gushes forth from within human beings. What we do from the outside is of no benefit or profit to anyone. As long as God's favor and disfavor are not magnified in our sight, we remain preoccupied with people's favor and disfavor; fame, wealth, and material prestige loom large in our eyes. We are like children; if we understand the value of God's favor and disfavor, we will relinquish people's favor and disfavor. This point is also very important in education and upbringing.

'They are with regard to Paradise as if they have seen it and are enjoying its bliss, and with regard to Hell as if they have seen it and are suffering its torment.' This point is extremely important, and if you take just this one message from the Imam, it is sufficient. The point is this: 'The Hereafter is nothing but the inner reality of this world.' The descriptions of the Hereafter are, in truth, the very essence of this world. The Imam says: The God-wary do not regard Paradise as something that will occur in the future. They find Paradise right now and benefit from its blessings, and the same applies to Hell. If you grasp just this, you have received the message of all religions and mystical schools. That is, realize that 'Paradise is nothing but the embodiment of your own soul, and Hell is nothing but the embodiment of your own soul.' Paradise and Hell are not places to which you and I will be taken in the future. Mystical schools constantly say: 'Seek from yourself whatever you desire, for you are that,' there is nothing outside of you; do not imagine that joy and sorrow exist elsewhere. Joy and sorrow arise from within your own self; if you lack joy, no one can give it to you. Rumi said: Consider an animal with a thorn in its foot; instead of seeing where the thorn has lodged and pulling it out, it constantly stamps its foot on the ground, driving the thorn deeper. Now, if we are joyful or sorrowful, we must see what from within has made us joyful or sorrowful. But we constantly turn to external causes and factors. If we are joyful within, no external matter can make us sorrowful. The secret behind the Quranic verse, 'Indeed, the friends of God—no fear will there be concerning them, nor will they grieve,' is precisely that the friends of God are joyful within. We must constantly watch over our inner state. Imam Ja'far al-Sadiq (peace be upon him) said something to this effect: If you had a pearl in your hand and everyone said it was a walnut, would you become sorrowful? Conversely, if you had a walnut and everyone said you had a pearl, would you become joyful? No, because you yourself know what you hold in your hand. Now, we have a walnut within and we go to those who will tell us we have a pearl, imagining that this will bring us joy. But this is a mistake. If we were to express this in religious language, we would say: The Hereafter is nothing but the inner reality of this world.

The late Allameh Tabatabai, in his commentary on the verse “They know an outward aspect of the life of this world, but they, of the Hereafter, are heedless,” presents an argument whose gist is that two contrasts are established in this verse: 1. knowing and not knowing (yaʿlamūn and ghāfilūn) 2. an outward aspect of the life of this world and the Hereafter; meaning the Hereafter is the inward dimension of this world. For He says: they understand the outward aspect of the world but do not know the Hereafter. The attributes they mention for the Hereafter also prove its being the inward dimension of the world. For instance, they say that a scholar without practice [3] in the Resurrection will be such that he sheds light around him but is dark within. Well, this very description applies to this world. There are many scholars from whose knowledge others find their way, but they themselves do not find the way; they themselves are in darkness, yet they radiate light to others. One of the descriptions of the Resurrection is that everyone is concerned only with himself. With this description, if the Hereafter is the inward dimension of this world, it becomes clear that we are exactly the same in this world. That is, know that no one is thinking of you. I have said many times that God has applied a glaze to the life of this world. Precisely what God has done with the world is like what we do with the wall of an old house when we wallpaper it so that it will sell. This glaze of worldly life must not deceive us. It has been applied so that one can live in the world. At the same time, we have been asked to look at its inward dimension; just once, tear a bit of this glaze and wallpaper and look at the inward reality of this wall and see how extensive the ruin is. One of the glazes of this life is that we imagine someone is thinking of us; no, everyone is thinking of himself. If they have said the Hereafter is like this, it means the inward dimension of the world is like this, except that you are dealing with the outward aspect of the world.

The mystics have ascertained that the human being is alone in the world. Yes, if we compare him with God, he is not alone, but rather separated and has become aware of this dual state. Know that the more awareness you gain of this point, the more successful you have been on the mystical path. I have said many times that one of the differences between the mystical conception and the conception of modern existentialism (the new philosophy of existence) is that existentialism considers the human being alone. But the mystical conception says: yes, in comparison with other human beings he is alone, but if you compare him with God and assess his connection with God, there is no loneliness; there is separation. That is, I have someone but have fallen distant from Him. This distantness must be remedied. Now, if you acquire the inward-seeing eye for the world, you will feel that everyone seeks his own benefit in the world; so you too should pursue your own benefit.

The second point is that you should not trample the truth for the sake of friend or foe. If you realize that no one has ever brought you any benefit and, therefore, you are indebted to no one, you will not trample the truth. Why should we trample the truth for the sake of our group, our faction, or our clique? I imagine that I receive some benefit from people, so for the sake of people’s approval or disapproval I practice usury, take bribes, overcharge, and so on. The Quran says that when you turn away from God, you are like a piece of meat that has fallen from the sky and every bird tears a piece from it with its beak. By the time this meat reaches the ground, in reality no meat remains; all of it has become prey to the beaks of birds along the way. A human being who turns away from God, others tear pieces from him with their beaks, but he does not perceive it. Through shortchanging, slander, backbiting, and so on, we are losing parts of our own existence [4]. One aspect of the Hereafter being the inward dimension of the world is precisely this: that we know we are alone.

In describing the Hereafter, they have said that even your own hands and feet will testify against you. This means your hands and feet are other than you. You and I consider our hands and feet to be “ourselves.” We imagine our face is our “self,” whereas even in this world these things are against us. I am very surprised by those who alienate things from their “self” and attend to what is not their self. That is, you are ruining your capital in order to cultivate what is not “you.” The mystics strove to understand what constitutes your “self,” and then they would say: consider only the benefit of this “self.” Of course, here you must note this point: the one who brings benefit to the “other” is, in reality, bringing benefit to the “self.” We are not saying do not benefit others, but if your sole intention is to benefit others, pay attention to two points:

1_ When you intend to serve “others,” know that you are serving your “self.”

2_ Since you are serving the “self,” do not expect a reward from others. Even the Prophet is told, first, know that any service you render to others is in reality a service to yourself: “It shall have what it has earned, and against it shall be what it has incurred.” And second, do not suppose that this service you render to others depends on you. No, it depends on others. When a teacher teaches, that is, he places at their disposal what others can make use of. Whether they make use of what he has said or not is uncertain; that depends on those others themselves. So, in reality, the Prophet has not benefited you either; it is you yourselves who, by accepting his service, have served yourselves. Thus, the one who has made use of guidance has in reality served himself, and the one who has not made use of guidance has again harmed himself. So, because the teacher intends service, he has in reality cultivated himself through this very intention, but others may or may not become cultivated.

Rumi used to say the world is like the city of Baghdad—which is proverbial for a city where blessings are abundant and is considered the “mother of cities.” He said thousands of people disembark from ships into this city, but the coppersmiths head to the coppersmiths’ market, the goldsmiths go after gold, and so on… but a donkey goes after a melon rind that has fallen in an alley near the port and busies its head with it. Well, is it Baghdad’s fault that it goes after the melon rind? God is the “Baghdad” of the world; God is everything. But it is I who have contented myself with the melon rind; some have delighted themselves with schools, or copper, or gold, or… Now, since God is the Baghdad of the world, godly human beings are also the Baghdad of the world, meaning they offer themselves. But it depends on us what we receive from this offered Baghdad. In Rumi’s expression, who said: “O Joseph of fair renown, how gracefully you walk upon our roof,” God is our “Joseph of fair renown” who constantly walks upon our roof. It depends on us whether we invite him into our house; who enters our house and who does not depends on us. The Prophet, too, is “a mercy to the worlds” just like God Himself, but what of it when you and I do not make use of him? Note that when a teacher enters a classroom, one says his knowledge is good, another says his delivery was good, another says…, and yet another says, for instance, his hair was such-and-such! The teacher himself did not say to look at my knowledge, or my delivery, or my hair. The teacher has offered himself with the intention of service, and because this is so, he has gained his own profit. But whether you gain profit or not is your own concern. All those who are godly are more or less “Baghdad-like”; everything is found in them. This is why some people looked at the Prophet and, as the Quran says, said: What sort of messenger is this who eats food and walks in the markets? That was all they saw of the Prophet.

Now, on this basis, we say that “self-sacrifice” (īthār) is not “self-sacrifice” in its inner reality. Of course, when I need something and I give it to another, I have practiced self-sacrifice. But when my “material self” deals with your “material self” and a comparison is made, I have taken from my “material self” and given to your “material self.” But if the “spiritual self” comes into play, in truth I have strengthened my own “self.” The spiritual profit of self-sacrifice is for my own self. In Surah al-Insan, where God recounts the story of Imam Ali and his family and praises it, He says: When they gave, they would say: We desire no reward or thanks from you. Well, if we consider their “material self,” yes, they sacrificed their “material self,” they practiced self-sacrifice. But the reason they desire no recompense or thanks is that they would say: We fear a day of resurrection when we will be asked, why did you not do it? So, they are again considering their own profit. But which self? The “spiritual self,” not the material self. It is possible not to practice self-sacrifice, but we do not want to suffer a spiritual decline. Therefore, when this is the case, self-sacrifice is no longer “other-preference” but “self-preference.”

So, when the “selves” are these very lower selves, self-sacrifice finds meaning. But if the self is the higher self, even the Prophet seeks his own profit, because it is only through guidance and fulfilling duty that he draws near to God.

So when we say that if we look at the inner reality of the world, we are all alone, it does not mean that a father does not help his son, or a daughter her mother, and so on—he does help, but inwardly everyone pursues their own benefit. So you too, pursue your own benefit. But pay attention to who this “you” is, so that you understand what your benefit consists in.

Our mistake is that we have mistaken the “self.” Rumi said: There was a man who worked and traded for a long time to become wealthy, so that he could then go and build a palace on the land he had bought. After five, six years, and so on, he went and with the money he had earned through hardship, he built a palace. On the day he wanted to move into that palace, he realized he had mistakenly built the house on someone else’s land! Rumi said: There are two adjacent plots of land, one is the “land of the body” and the other the “land of the soul.” We have spent a lifetime striving to develop the “land of the body”:

Do not build a house on another’s ground, / Do your own work, do not a stranger’s work be found.

Who is the stranger? Your earthly body, / For whose sake is your sorrow and anxiety.

As long as you feed the body fat and sweet, / You will not find the soul’s essence replete.

We have mistaken the body and the soul for one another. Because they are truly adjacent and are mistaken for each other. We spend a lifetime striving to develop the body, and when we die, we see it is the real time for relocation; we see that we have developed the adjacent plot and left our own land in ruins.

Now, an objection might come to mind: on the one hand, you say everyone thinks of themselves, everyone is alone, and then you command us to think of ourselves. If we already think of ourselves, why command us to do so? We all do think of ourselves, but sometimes we mistake this self; we take the “bodily self” for the “soul-self” or psyche. The one who lies also thinks of himself, and the one who tells the truth also thinks of himself, but these two “selves” are different. We must think of our spiritual self. That is why the mystics said: recognize “yourselves,” distinguish the “true self” from the “false self” so that you may recognize the interests of the true self. For if you recognize them, you will spend a lifetime in the service of your own self, and at the same time, you will constantly be serving others. These do not contradict each other. I ask: Was Imam [Khomeini] not constantly thinking of service? But for what? For nearness to God. Even though he was thinking of himself, he served everyone. What creates incompatibility between me and others, and causes me to trample others if I pursue my own self, is when what is meant by “me” is the “material me.” But if you pursue the “true me,” you will trample no one.

Someone like Imam Ali, who said: I will speak nothing but the truth, I will act with nothing but justice, was thinking of his “higher self” but served everyone. The question raised in legal discussions—whether the individual has primacy or society, and whether the individual should be sacrificed for others or others for the individual—only applies and finds meaning in the case of the “lower self.” But if the “true self” is meant, this discussion does not arise at all. In fact, it is precisely through the channel of serving others that one can elevate oneself. But this does not mean that others necessarily benefit from your service. This is why the Quran says: O Prophet, “Indeed, you do not guide whom you love,” you cannot guide the one you love. You only provide the ground; their benefiting from it is up to them.

The upshot of the discussion is that, in comparison with other human beings, I am alone, but in comparison with God, I am not alone; I am only separated. For God is the only being who does not seek His own benefit, but rather seeks your benefit. So with Him, we do not feel loneliness; we feel separation.

The Friend is closer to me than myself, / And stranger still, that I am far from Him.

And this is precisely the feeling of separation. The entire message of religions and mystics is that—in the mystical expression—“everything arises from within you,” and in the religious expression, “the Hereafter is the inner reality of this world.” Note that external things cannot make a person happy or sad; one must delve into oneself. We imagine that the one who has wealth or power and so on is happy, but these external things cannot bring sorrow or joy. If I am happy within, no one can make me sad, and vice versa. I would like you to undertake this exploration within yourselves and also discuss it with others.

There are people who, in our view, ought to be the happiest of all, yet they are the most miserable. This is also one of the proofs that the afterlife is the inward reality of this very world. Those who turn away from God are miserable right here. We imagine that in the hereafter they will go to hell, and the believers will go to heaven in the hereafter, and so on… But one who is a believer is joyful right here, is in paradise right here, and one who turns away from God is joyless right here. However, the masks usually do not allow us to tell others of the sorrow within, and they suppose we are joyful. But if these masks were removed, it would become clear that the one who is not with God, the more affluent they become, the more joyless they become. The secret is that whoever has not tasted something says, “If I were to taste it, what pleasure I would experience.” But these people have tasted everything and have seen that it is not what they wanted. Because they supposed they would take pleasure in external things. For this reason, it is said: “Behold, the friends of God—no fear shall be upon them, nor shall they grieve.” Of course, the friends of God have another kind of sorrow, and the Imam also says: “Their hearts are sorrowful.” Is the inner being of the perfect human entirely joy, or entirely sorrow? Or has it gathered the most intense sorrows with the most intense joys? Or does it comprehend neither joy nor sorrow?

[1] See: Ghazali’s Ihya’ ‘Ulum al-Din – on beneficial and harmful knowledge. [2] Waqar: stillness of the heart and tranquility of the soul. [3] Take “action” in its broad sense. [4] This point is well depicted in Ernest Hemingway’s story “The Old Man and the Sea.” We are exactly like that old man who had caught a gigantic fish and was struggling with all difficulties, happy in the thought that when I reach the shore, I will have a fish weighing a ton. But he did not realize that his enemies were not only those sharks that surface and openly fight him; some sharks beneath the water were eating his fish piece by piece. So when he reached the shore and pulled the rope, he saw only a skeleton of the fish remained. Now, we too suppose we are pulling something along with us and do not realize that we are losing it bit by bit.

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An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha – 5

The Seriousness of Life and Unfulfillable Wishes

One of the themes emphasized by Ali (a.s.) and also needed by the people of this time, which we are in dire need of, is the discussion of "taking life seriously." That is, life must be taken seriously. The Imam (a.s.), in a letter he wrote to Imam Hasan (a.s.) after the first Battle of Siffin [1], states: I am now on the threshold of departure; since this is so, I must withdraw from people, sit in seclusion, and attend to myself, take account of myself. But because I consider you a part of myself, indeed my whole self—"I found you a part of me, indeed I found you my whole self"—I attend to you as well. Early in the letter, he says: I have had abundant experiences and many matters have passed over me. Among these points, the point that must take precedence is that everything that has passed over me in life has led me to this: "one must be serious in life." "So it has led me to a seriousness in which there is no play." Life cannot be taken as a game. Elsewhere, in describing Abu Dharr, he says: In life, he was like a "valley serpent" and a "thicket lion," and these expressions, in the Arabic language, indicate seriousness in life. That is, Abu Dharr took everything seriously. Other instances also appear in Nahj al-Balagha. The Imam himself was also like this in life. Now, what does taking life seriously mean? And why must life be taken seriously? If you are faced with a system governed by ironclad, steely laws, you too must be serious. The seriousness of the system compels us not to take it lightly. The more seriously we regard a matter, the more seriously we act in response to it. The fact that we exercise caution and wariness toward certain things goes back precisely to this point, and this point is no small matter. The system of existence is an entirely serious system. Therefore, we must be serious in response to it. Some Points on the Seriousness of the System of Existence First point: We are dealing with an alert (seeing and hearing) and conscious being (the universe). We are not faced with a blind, deaf, and unconscious being. Why? Because this being acts with great precision in showing reactions. The universe displays great sensitivity toward our behaviors, judges them, and reacts with that judgment. The religious person understands this point based on religious texts, and the non-religious person understands it based on their experiences. We read in the Quran: "Whoever does an atom's weight of evil shall see it." You are dealing with a serious and precise system. Do not think you can do something and it will be forgotten. Every action we take, every stance we adopt, every character trait we cultivate within ourselves, and so on, will have a corresponding reaction in the universe. In this verse, the term "reaction" is not even used; rather, for greater emphasis, it says you will see "it itself." However, while it says "shall see it" here, in some instances it says "shall see its recompense"; neither is meant in a literal sense such that a contradiction arises between them. If "shall see it" is used here, it is to emphasize that the law of action and reaction is so dominant that it is as if it is simply "action and action," and not "action and reaction." The second point is that the reaction to every action is directed at the agent and none other. If you have done good or evil, expect only yourself to see good or evil in return. There is no shield for me against the reaction. This is why it is said in the Quran: "For it is what it has earned, and against it is what it has acquired." Whatever a person does, if it is evil, it is for their own self, and if it is good, it is for their own self. The reaction returns to the agent; it is not to be redirected to another. It is also stated in the Quran: "You have come to Us alone, just as We created you the first time." You will return to Us one by one, just as you were created one by one. It is only you and whatever you have done. You will not return to Us with retinue and entourage so that some reactions might be diverted toward them. We did not first create you with father, mother, child, spouse, band, group, faction, etc., so that you would return to Us with them. We created you individually, and individually you will return to Us. Do that which you can answer for by yourself. "Imam Fakhr al-Din al-Razi" says: If the entire Quran were to be lost, this single sentence would be enough to make human beings tremble, that God, in describing the Resurrection, said: You will come to Me one by one. If you look at the verses concerning the Resurrection, it is a day when a person will flee from their father, mother, brother, spouse, children, and clan [2], even though these are the supporters of a person in this worldly life. On the Resurrection, I will flee from all those who gave me refuge in the life of this world. Why? Because on that day, everyone will be so preoccupied with themselves that they cannot attend to another. Our "loneliness" on the Resurrection means precisely this. Our loneliness on the Resurrection is caused by two factors: one is that friends will become enemies on the Resurrection.دیگر اینکه، آنقدر به خود می‌پردازم، آنقدر مورد سوال قرار می‌گیرم که نمی‌توانم سوال‌های شما را جواب دهم. آنقدر دلمشغول جواب دادن به سوال‌های خودم هستم که دیگر نمی‌توانم سوال‌های برادر و خواهر و … را هم پاسخ دهم. این مطلب به کرات در قرآن آمده است. اصلاً هرجا «خطر» هست، این خاصیت را در پی دارد که از نظر فیزیکی، باعث گرد آمدن می‌شود. اما از نظر روانی، باعث تنهایی. در مواقع غیر‌خطر یعنی امنیت، نه آن گردآمدن فیزیکی است و نه آن تنهایی روانی. در هنگام خطر فرد فقط به خود می‌پردازد. هرچه خطر بیشتر شود این پرداختن به خود و در نتیجه، تنهایی بیشتر می‌شود. در قیامت هر دو خاصیت خطر کاملاً وجود دارد. قیامت «ازدحام تنهایان» است. به همین جهت قرآن در باب قیامت از سویی می‌فرماید: «لقد جئتمونا فراداً» و از سویی دیگر، لفظ «حشر» (گرد هم آمدن) را به کار می‌برد. ترس آنقدر عظیم است که حتی حیوانات هم گرد هم می‌آیند «اذا الوحوش حشرت». حال، شما اگر این «ازدحام تنهایان» را به این نکته که «قیامت چیزی جز باطن دنیا نیست» جمع کنید، نتیجه خواهید گرفت که در دنیا هم اگر به حاق واقع پی ببرید می‌بینید «ما در کنار هم به سر می‌بریم اما تنهاییم». کسی در کنار ما نیست که عکس‌العمل کارهایمان متوجه به‌سوی او شود. در فرهنگ‌های شرقی این نکته به این صورت آمده است که «هر انسانی به تنهایی با کل جهان مواجه است». بنابراین در کنار دیگران زیستن توهم (مایا) است. ما واقعاً تنهاییم. اینکه کسانی در کنار ما هستند توهم است. نکته سوم: در باب جدی بودن جهان این است که جبران کم کاری‌ها یا بد کاری‌های گذشته فقط با کار، آن هم با کار خوب امکان‌پذیر است. برای تخفیف عکس‌العمل، احساس ندامت و حسرت و نالیدن کارساز نیست. این‌ها نشانگر جدی نگرفتن نظام هستی است. گویی می‌شود سر نظام را کلاه گذاشت! مثل اینکه در درسی مردود شوی آن وقت نزد معلم چاپلوسی کنید یا زاری کنید یا … در حالیکه، اول چیزی که معلم می‌فهمد این است که شما درس را جدی نگرفته‌اید و او را انسان جدی نمی‌دانید. دراین نظام کم‌کاری تنها و تنها با پرکاری و بدکاری تنها و تنها با خوب‌کاری جبران می‌شود. حضرت علی(ع) می‌فرمایند: «اگر کوهی مرا دوست دارد از هم می‌پاشد» چرا؟ چون اگر مرا دوست دارد، می خواهد مانند من زندگی کند و چون چنین زندگی کند از هم می‌پاشد مانند من زندگی کردن هیچ راهی جز مانند من عمل کردن ندارد. به تعبیری راه «میانبر» وجود ندارد. در زندگی باید اهل طی طریق بود. نکته چهارم: زندگی پرورنده خوبی‌هاست، نظام جهان خوبی‌ها را می‌پرورد. نظام جهان نسبت به بدی‌ها و خوبی‌ها حالت سلبی و ایجابی دارد. یک ذره از بدی‌ها را نمی‌گذارد فراموش شود. عکس‌العمل آن حتماً خواهد رسید. اما در مورد خوبی‌ها هم نمی‌گذارد فراموش شود و هم خوبی‌ها را می‌پروراند، آن را رشد می‌دهد. در مزرعه جهان تخم بدی از بین نمی‌رود به همان مقدار که افشانده شده باقی می‌ماند. اما تخم خوبی رشد هم می‌کند. این است که قرآن می‌گوید: به کار خوب ده برابر یا هفتاد برابر یا هفتصد برابر پاداش داده می‌شود. بنابراین، موضع جهان نسبت به خوبی‌ها موضع رشد‌دهندگی است. نکته پنجم: در زندگی اگر به هرگونه یادماندنی دل ببندیم، اشتباه کرده‌ایم. قدمای ما می‌گفتند به مال و جمال و فرزند و … دل نبندید، چون از دست می‌رود. فقط نام نیک هست که می‌ماند. فروغ فرخزاد هم می‌گفت که: «تنها صداست که می‌ماند». اما دین و تعمق عمیق عرفانی به شما می‌گوید که به این هم دل نبندید که این هم نمی‌ماند. از شش هزار سال پیش تا کنون حافظه تاریخ فقط نام چند تن (مثل کنفسیوس، لائودسه، بودا) را در یاد نگاه داشته. اما آیا فقط همین سه تن نیک بوده‌اند؟ آیا پس از چندین قرن این سه تن هم فراموش نمی‌شوند؟ جدی بودن زندگی به این معنا یعنی هرچیزی غیر از موافقت با نظام جهان به تعبیر دینی، موافق با اراده و مشیت الهی کار کردن، اوامر و نواهی الهی را اجرا کردن فراموش می‌شود. به چیز دیگری دل نبندید. جدی بودن نظام هستی به ما الزام می‌کند که جدی باشیم. قرآن در موارد فراوان می‌فرماید که: «ما اهل لهو و لعب نیستیم». این دو معنای انشائی و اخباری دارد: ۱) معنای اخباری: در نظام خلقت بازی و سرگرمی راه پیدا نمی‌کند. قوانین آن پولادین است. ما با کسی شوخی نداریم. مو را از ماست می‌کشیم. ۲) معنای انشائی: اگر ما اهل لهو و لعب نیستیم و اگر شما باید تشبه به ما پیدا کنید، در نتیجه، شما نباید اهل لهو و لعب باشید. با این بیان، جدی بودن یعنی چه؟ چگونه باید جدی بود؟ برای تقریب مطلب می‌پرسم، تنبلی چیست؟ ما معمولاً تنبلی را – که بد می‌دانیم – به‌معنای «بی‌تحرکی فیزیکی» می‌گیریم ونشاط را به معنای «‌تحرک بدنی». اما اگر تنبلی به این معنا باشد نمی‌توان به طور کلی بد دانست. بلکه، تنبلی به معنای «فراموش کردن هدف» اعم از کوتاه مدت یا دراز مدت است. یعنی من نسبت به هر هدفی که در تظر دارم اگر دچار فراموشی شوم، دچار تنبلی شده‌ام. این تنبلی دو پیامد دارد: ۱) کم کار کردن (در جهت هدف) ۲) کار در جهت مخالف هدف کردن (بد کار کردن) کسی که دچار تنبلی می‌شود ممکن است دچار یکی از این دو یا هر دو شود. حال اگر کسی هدفش حل یک مشکل ریاضی یا فلسفی یا منطقی باشد، اگر صبح تا شب هم دراز بکشد، در نهایت نشاط است با اینکه در ظاهر به نظر می‌آید تنبلی می‌کند. از آن طرف، همین آدم اگر از صبح تا شب به کار خرید و فروش و … پرداخت، چون هدف را فراموش کرده، در حالت تنبلی به‌سر می‌برده است. اینکه گفته می‌شود زندگی را به‌جد بگیرید، جدی باشید یعنی «هدف را فراموش نکنید» و این را از فیزیک زندگی فرد نمی‌توان فهمید. «ناظران» نمی‌توانند بفهمندکه فرد زندگی را به‌جد گرفته یا در حال تنبلی است. فقط «عامل» از آن آگاه است چون ۱) فقط او می‌داند هدفش چیست. ۲) فقط او می‌داند هدف چه قسم فعا‌لیتی را اقتضا می‌کند. ۳) فقط او می‌داند آیا به مقتضای هدفش فعالیت می‌کند یا نه. پیامبران، عرفا و عالمان اخلاق جدی‌ترین انسان‌ها هستند. یکی از عرفا می‌گوید زندگی آنقدر جدی است که اگر ناگهان در لحظه‌ای، کسی از شما بپرسد، به چه فکر می‌کنی، دقیقاً باید بتوانید بگویید. البته ما باید به این امر توجه کنیم که صحنه‌های مختلف زندگی اقتضا‌ئات مختلفی دارد. کسی که واقعاً در زندگی خود جدی است ممکن است در جایی اقتضای جدی بودنش به این باشد که کاملاً بازیگوشی و شوخ و شنگی نشان دهد. اینطور نیست که جدی گرفتن زندگی را بتوان در چهره‌ی طرف احساس کرد. پیامبر(ص) با بچه‌ها در کوچه بازی می‌کردند خود ایشان می‌فرمودند که «آنقدر با بچه‌ها بازی می‌کنم تا خود بچه‌ها خسته شوند من آن‌ها را وسط بازی تا رغبت به بازی دارند رهایشان نمی‌کنم». اگر من و شما به دیده ظاهر به این مساله بنگریم ممکن است بگوییم ایشان در زندگی خود جدی نیستند. اما اینطور نیست گاهی هست که شخص چون می‌خواهد زندگی را به‌جد بگیرد در اوضاع و احوال متعددی که پیش می‌آید عکس‌العمل‌های متفاوت در پیش می‌گیرد. در جایی بسیار سنگ‌دلی نشان می‌دهد و در جایی بسیار رقت قلب دارد، جایی بسیار قاطع است و در جایی بسیار نرم است، در جایی بسیار پرحرف و در جایی کم‌حرف. من دایماً گفته‌ام که به سوال «پرحرفی بهتر است یا کم‌حرفی؟» نمی‌توان یک پاسخ داد. اگر به تعبیر فلاسفه اخلاق وظیفه «فی بادی‌النظر» و در «نگاه نخستین» را در نظر بگیرید یعنی اگر اوضاع و احوالی که می‌خواهید در آن سخن بگویید اوضاع و احوالی را که می‌خواهید در آن سکوت کنید دقیقاً مساوی باشد البته در اوضاع و احوال مساوی، سکوت بر سخن گفتن رجحان دارد. اما در اوضاع و احوال واقعی و زندگی، یعنی آن اوضاع و احوالی را که بالفعل در آن قرار می‌گیرید در نظر بگیرید دیگر نمی‌شود گفت سکوت بهتر است یا سخن گفتن، زیرا در جایی سکوت بهتر است و درجایی سخن گفتن بهتر است. در جایی سخن فراوان گفتن بهتر است و در جایی سخن کم گفتن بهتر است. پس هیچ امر خاصی دال بر جدی گرفتن زندگی نیست. کسانی که زندگی را جدی می‌گیرند فکر نکنید فیزیک زندگی واحدی برای آنان قابل پیش‌بینی همیشگی است که بگویم همه وقت شادند یا همه وقت ناشادند. به‌تعبیری کسی که زندگی را جدی می‌گیرد به نظر من پیش‌بینی‌ناپذیرترین زندگی را دارند. آنکه زندگی‌اش کاملاً پیش‌بینی‌پذیر است خیلی خودش را رها کرده و طبق موج رفتار می‌کند. زندگی چنین فردی را می‌شود کاملاً پیش‌بینی کرد مثلاً می‌توان گفت که او در فلان جلسه فلان کار را خواهد کرد یا در مقابل فلان مشکل فلان عکس‌العمل را نشان می‌دهد. اما کسانی که زندگی را جدی می‌گیرند واقعاً پیش‌بینی‌پذیری در زندگی‌اشان امکان ندارد. من می‌خواهم خیلی روی این نکته تاکید کنم. شما نباید انتظار داشته باشید مردان خدا زندگی‌اشان قابل پیش‌بینی باشد. بلکه اتفاقاً هرچه انسان به یک مقصد بیشتر سر بسپرد، زندگی‌اش پیش‌بینی‌ناپذیرتر می‌شود. ما درواقع کسانی را موفق‌تر می‌دانیم که زندگی‌اشان پیش‌بینی‌پذیر است و کسانی که عکس‌العمل‌های نامتوقع و نامنتظر نشان می‌دهند به‌نظرمان می‌آید که این‌ها سامان روحی ندارند. اتفاقاً هرچه سامان روحی ما بیشتر می‌شود پیش‌بینی‌پذیری زندگی ما کمتر می‌شود. یکی از صحابه حضرت علی(ع) نقل می‌کند که در اوج جنگ صفین حضرت به من اشاره کردند که خیلی تشنه هستم و آب طلبیدند. او می‌گوید من برای ایشان آبی آوردم و همین‌که آب را نوشیدند، فرمودند: عسل کوفه در این آب کرده‌ای؟ من و شما این را نمی‌توانیم توجیه کنیم. می‌گوییم اگر به فکر این وضعی هستیم که پیش آمده در بحبوهه جنگ چگونه حتی از این غفلت نمی‌کنی که عسل در آب کرده‌اند و آن هم، «عسل کوفه» است نه جای دیگر. باز در کتاب پیکار صفین – که به فارسی هم ترجمه شده و کتاب خوبی است – یک صحابی از امام علی(ع) نقل می‌کند که ایشان در بحبوهه جنگ از من غذا و خوردنی خواستند من برای ایشان غذا آوردم تا نگاه ایشان به آن ظرف ترک برداشته افتاد، فرمودند: در کاسه ترک خورده غذا خوردن مکروه است. اگر ظرف دیگری دارید ظرف این غذا را عوض کنید. ما اصلاً این‌ها را فهم نمی‌کنیم که چگونه حضرت در آن بحبوهه جنگ التفات به این مسائل پیدا می‌کنند. ما به نظرمان می‌آید که انسان جدی در هنگام جنگ فقط به فکر جنگ است و به هیچ چیز دیگری فکر نمی‌کند. بحث «جدی گرفتن زندگی» را در موضعی دیگر از نهج‌البلاغه پی‌ می‌گیریم. حضرت در خطبه ۱۳۲ نهج‌البلاغه به جد گرفتن زندگی را با تاکید بیشتری بیان می‌کند و بعد هم یک مقدار به جدی گرفتن زندگی را تفسیر می‌کنند. می‌فرمایند: «قسم به خدا زندگی جدی است»؛ «زندگی بازی نیست» در این باب گفتم که مقتضای به جد گرفتن زندگی این است که همیشه ظاهر زنگی انسان به‌یکسان نیست. یعنی کسانی که واقعاً زندگی را به‌جد می‌گیرند یعنی هدف و یا اهدافی در کنار هم در نظر گرفته‌اند و می‌خواهند به آن اهداف برسند خود این که این اهداف یا هدف را ثابت نگه می‌دارند خودش باعث می‌شود که شغل ثابتی ندارد؛ موضع ثابتی ندارند منتهی اینکه می‌گویم شغل واحد، موضع واحد مقتضای هدف واحد نیست این معنایش دو نکته است: نکته اول: گمان نباید کرد که اگر ما زندگی را جدی بگیریم و یک هدف ثابت را در پیش بگیریم، این معنایش این باشد که لزوماً شغل و حرفه خاص و یا مشی خاص در پیش بگیریم. البته، معنایش ضرورتاً خلاف این هم نیست. یعنی نمی‌خواهم بگویم که اصلاً کسی دارای هدف واحد است هیچگونه ثبات ظاهری نشان نمی‌دهد ولی از آن طرف انتظار نداشته باشید کسی که در زندگی‌اش هدف واحد دارد در تمام جهات زندگی‌اش ثبات نشان دهد. چیزی که ادعا می‌شود این است که معمولاًً کسی که بخواهد چیزی را حفظ بکند باید برای حفظ آن در اوضاع و احوال مختلف مانور بدهد و این مانور دادن یعنی شغل عوض کردن، جا عوض کردن یعنی شان عوض کردن مثلاً حضرت علی(ع) یک وقت کشاورزی می‌کرد، یه وقت حاکم بودند، یه وقت خانه‌نشینی می‌کردند. خود ایشان در نهج‌البلاغه می‌گویند کسانی گمان می‌کنند اینکه من برای خلافتم دست به شمشیر نمی‌برم، برای این است که از کشته شدن و مرگ می‌ترسم و می‌گویند من وقتی نوجوان بودم از مرگ نمی‌ترسیدم چه برسد به الآن. منتهی هروقت، می‌بینم خدا از من چه می‌خواهد. و این نکته مهمی است، ما انسان‌های معمولی غالباً در یک حرفه و موضع خاصی هستیم مثلاً کم می‌بینید یک پزشکی سخنرانی هم بکند. ما معمولاً امروزه تنها وحدتی که در بین ما وجود دارد وحدت شغل است و این وحدت نقطه قوت ما نیست. نقطه ضعف است. ما نمی‌توانیم به تعبیر قرآنی «کل یوم هو فی شان» که درباره خدا آمده است باشیم و این نشان‌دهنده نقطه ضعف ماست. اینکه ما نمی‌توانیم کارهای مختلف انجام دهیم کسی گمان می‌کند که به خاطر این است که ما هدف واحد پیدا کرده‌ایم. اتفاقاً اینکه انسان هدف واحدی پیدا می‌کند نفس این هدف واحد پیدا کردن باعث می‌شود که در یک پوسته‌ای نگنجد و مشی و موضع واحدی نداشته باشد. ائمه ما واقعاً اینطور نبودند. مردان خدا اینطور نیستند. نکته دوم: اینکه می‌گوییم: وحدتی در کار نیست این، در ظاهر است. در پشت این بی‌وحدتی‌ها، وحدتی هست. منتهی این وحدت به این معنا نیست که ما باید لزوماً یک هدف داشته باشیم. می‌شود چند هدف داشت و این چند هدف در طول هم باشند و با هم سازگار باشند. و بر این، اشکالی نیست. اشکال وقتی است که چند هدف داشته باشم که در طول هم نباشند و با هم ناسازگار باشند. ما در این جهان آمده‌ایم تا سر به آستان یک هدف و یا یک سلسله اهداف در طول هم بگذاریم. مردان بزرگ هم اینطور بودند اگرچه این باعث می‌شده است که زندگی‌اشان خیلی متغیر باشد. آرزوها بحث دیگر در باب آرزوهاست. نکته‌ای که حضرت علی(ع) خیلی به آن اشاره می‌کند این است که «انسان‌ها کشته آرزوهای خود می‌شوند» آرزوها قاتلان انسان‌ها هستند. به همین خاطر توصیه می‌کنند: «آرزوکش باشید» حضرت علی(ع) در نامه به امام حسن(ع) می‌فرمایند: «تو کسی هستی که در آرزوی چیزی هستی که به دست آمدنی نیست.» توجه داشته باشید که نگفتند پسر من در آرزوی چیزی هست که به آن نمی‌رسد. چون در این صورت معنایش چه بسا این بود که ممکن است دیگری به آن برسد اما پسر من نمی‌رسد. حضرت می‌خواهند بگویند شما در آرزوی چیزی هستید که دست‌یافتنی نیست. یعنی هیچ‌کس به آن نمی‌رسد. ایشان در جای دیگر می‌گویند: «یقیناً بدان که هرگز به آرزوهای خودت نخواهی رسید.» باز می‌گویند: «من شما را برحذر می‌دارم که بر آرزوهای خودتان اتکاء کنید. انسان‌ها درواقع حرمان و محرومیت می‌کشند و به آرزوها دست نمی‌یابند.» و این نکته بسیار با اهمیتی است. نمی‌توان انکار کرد ما به‌دنبال چیزهایی می‌رویم که به دست آمدنی نیست. من می‌خواهم بعضی از این چیزها را بگویم: ۱) نخستین چیز این است که شما هیچ وقت به آرزوی بی‌گناهی نمی‌رسید، هیچ‌وقت آرزوی عصمت در سرتان نپرورانید. کسانی که آرزوی بی‌گناهی و عصمت دارند نه تنها آن را به دست نمی‌آورند بلکه باعث می‌شوند که در گناه‌کاری صددرصد فرو روند. مکانیسمش به این صورت است: کسی آرزو می‌کند که دیگر گناه نکند؛ یعنی از فردا دست از گناه بکشد. اما چنین چیزی امکان‌پذیر نیست چون کسی‌که مدت مدیدی گناه‌کار بوده است به سرعت نمی‌تواند دست از گناه بردارد؛ لذا فردای آن روز با شکست مواجه می‌شود. دوباره تصمیم می‌گیرد که در روز دیگری دست از گناه بردارد و باز هم با شکست مواجه می‌شود و همین‌طور تصمیم می‌گیرد که از ماه آینده و از سال آینده دست از گناه بردارد و فاصله‌های زمانی را بیشتر می‌کند اما در تمام این موارد شکست می‌خورد چون چیزی را می‌خواهد که به دست نمی‌آید. در این صورت پس از مدتی شکست، قدرت تصمیم‌گیری بر ترک گناه را از دست می‌دهد. کم‌کم دیگر چنین تصمیم از او صادر نمی‌شود. در نتیجه تسلیم گناه می‌شود. می‌توان راه دیگری اتخاذ کرد. به جای این‌که بگویم من می‌خواهم بدون گناه بشوم، این هدف را در نظر بگیرم – که من می‌خواهم هر روز از روز پیش کمتر گناه کنم. این تصمیم قابل تحقق و قابل عمل کردن است. مثال می‌زنم: اگر کسی که تصمیم به ترک سیگار گرفته بگوید از فردا به طور کلی می‌خواهم سیگار را ترک کنم. چنین کسی تا آخر عمرش سیگاری خواهد ماند. ولی می‌تواند هر روز تعداد سیگار کشیدن را کم کند. پس نخستین آرزو، آرزوی عصمت است و این آرزو، انسان‌کش است. خود حضرت علی(ع) وقتی که زندگی خودشان را برای ما ترسیم می‌کند، برای این‌که ما آرزو نکنیم مثل ایشان زندگی کنیم، می‌گویند: البته شما انسان‌ها زندگی‌ای مثل زندگی من نمی‌توانید داشته باشید و در آرزوی آن نباشید. بلکه، فقط می‌توانید در راه من باشید، در طریق صلاح و خوبی می‌توانید بکوشید. ۲) آرزوی دیگر، آرزوی محبوبیت داشتن است. چنین آرزویی نداشته باشید که چنان زندگی کنید که در نظر همه محبوب باشید و همه شما را دوست بدارند. این، به دست نمی‌آید. حضرت علی(ع) در شب آخر عمرشان به فرزندانشان فرمودند رضای مردم به‌دست آمدنی نیست. بنابراین، به‌دنبال این آرزو نباشید. این آرزو ما را به چند گناه عظیم می‌کشاند: گناه اول، این است که انسان طالب خدایی کردن می‌شود. آن چیزی که همه انسان‌ها باید در طلبش باشند خداست و همه باید به سوی خدا در سیر و حرکت باشند. حالا اگر من بخواهم طوری زندگی کنم که همه نگاه‌ها متوجه من شود، در واقع من خدایی کرده‌ام. یعنی آنچه را که از آن خداست برای خود خواسته‌ام. به تعبیر دیگری، به خدا گفته می‌شود تو مقصد هر سالک هستی، ولی من می‌خواهم مقصد هر سالکی باشم. در حدیث آمده: «الکبریاء ردایی». کبریایی ردایی است که اختصاص به من دارد. همه باید در پیش من تواضع بورزند، به من دل ببندند. به تعبیری ما انسان‌ها دقیقاً نسبت به یکدیگر باید حالت «تابلوی کنار جاده» را داشته باشیم. هر تابلویی می‌گوید به من نگاه کنید ولی از طریق این نگاه کردن از وضع جاده باخبر شوید و به راه خودتان ادامه دهید. به تعبیر دیگر «با من بنگرید ولی به من ننگرید». هرکس به خود تابلو خیره شود به دست خودش، خودش را از بین برده است. ما نسبت به یکدیگر باید مثل تابلو باشیم. یعنی به یکدیگر نگاه بکنیم. البته، اگر کسی به من نگاه کند من او را به خودم نخوانم بلکه از طریق خودم راه به خدا رسیدن را به او بنمایانم. نباید کسی را به خودم دعوت کنم و بگویم شماها باید به من بگروید باید به مردم بگویم به من نگاه نکنند بلکه با من نگاه کنند. یا با در نظر کردن در من راه خود را بیابید. پس من باید تابلویی باشم که خدا را نشان دهم و این معنایش این است که هیچ‌وقت نباید به من نظر استقلالی داشت و نباید انتظار داشت که شما شیفته من شوید. کسانی که محبوبیت‌طلب هستند گویا می‌خواهند همه انسان‌ها به آن‌ها نظر استقلالی داشته باشند؛ یعنی نظری که باید به خدا داشته باشند، به او داشته باشند. ممکن است بگویید اینکه تقصیر من نیست که به من نظر استقلالی می‌کنند. دیگران نباید به من نظر استقلالی داشته باشند. ولی درواقع چنین نیست، یعنی ناشی از خطای مریدها نیست بلکه ناشی از خطای مرادها ست. یعنی مرادها چنان با دیگران مواجه می‌شوند که به آنها القا می‌کنند که به او نظر استقلالی داشته باشند. وقتی ابراهیم فرزند پیامبر(ص) از دنیا می‌رود، در آن روز کسوفی رخ می‌دهد و مردم می‌گویند این کسوف به‌خاطر مرگ فرزند پیامبر است. یعنی جهان طبیعت نوعی همدلی و همدردی با پیامبر کرده است. پیامبر از این تلقی مردم عصبانی شده، به مسجد می‌روند و می‌گویند: «ای مردم هرگز گمان نکنید کسوف به خاطر مرگ فرزند من است». و این امر خیلی مهمی است. با توجه به اوضاع و احوال فرهنگی و اجتماعی آن زمان که استعداد پذیرش اینگونه مطالب را داشت، پیامبر چنین برخوردی می‌کنند. و این، معنایش این است که من شما را به خودم دعوت نمی‌کنم و نمی‌خواهم شما شیفته من شوید. فقط و فقط می‌خواهم شما به خدا برسید. این شیوه را به‌کار گرفتن یعنی دست برداشتن از محبوبیت‌طلبی. بنابراین، نخستین خطا در محبوبیت‌طلبی این است که گویا نوعی ربوبیت‌طلبی را می‌خواهند و محبوبیت‌طلبی در نهایت، یعنی ربوبیت‌طلبی.

[۱]  See Nahj al-Balagha, Letter 31. Apparently, this letter has not been abridged; Sayyid Razi has cited it in its entirety.

[۲]  Surah 80, Verse 34

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Mostafa Malekian, An Existentialist Approach to Nahj al-Balagha

Allameh Research Journal, First Period, Fall 2001 - Issue 1 (114 pages - from 277 to 390)

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Date: Year 1990

Number of Pages: 113

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