CHAPTER
III
The Word that was Lost
1
'The word that was lost' is a symbolical phrase, a
paradox of the mystics which has existed in the East and among the wise
for ages. Many schools of spiritual or mystical cult have been formed
in order to understand this particular problem, but what happens is
that whoever wishes to solve the problem says very little about it
after he has solved it.
There is an ancient story in the East which tells
that there was a wall of mystery. The tradition was that whenever
anyone tried to climb upon the wall to look at the other side, instead
of coming back he smiled and jumped over and never came back again. So
the people of that country became very curious to know what mystery lay
behind that wall. They thought they would arrange something so as to
pull the person back when he looked at the other side of the wall and
wished to go there. When the next person tried to climb upon the wall,
curious to see what was on the other side, the people who saw him climb
put seven chains on his feet and held him so that he would not go over.
When he looked at the other side he too was delighted with what he saw
and he smiled. Those standing at their side, curious to know what he
had to say, pulled him back, but, to their great disappointment, when
he came back they found that he had lost his speech.
The mystery of the whole life has a great charm.
Every soul is curious about it, but when one wants to explain the
mystery of life words are not adequate. There are many reasons for this
speechlessness, for this silence. The first is that the man who has
seen the other side of the wall finds himself among children when he
returns. To him all the things to which people attach great importance
and value seem nothing. For that person truth and fact are two things;
for everybody else truth and fact are the same.
The followers of different faiths and religions, of
different opinions and ideas dispute and argue and differ from one
another. Do they dispute and differ in the realization of truth? No,
all differences and disputes are caused by the knowledge of various
facts which are different from one another. There are many facts and
one truth. There are many stars and one sun; when the sun has risen the
stars pale. The one before whom the sun has risen, to whom the truth
has manifested for him facts make little difference. The light of
truth, falling upon the facts, makes them disappear.
It is very interesting to observe that there are
many people who are deaf and dumb at the same time. This shows that
deafness and dumbness are connected, and according to a certain point
of view it is the same thing to be deaf and to be dumb. It is just like
two ends of one line: when you look at the ends you may say 'deaf and
dumb'; when you look at the line it is one. In the same way perception
and expression are the two ends of one line. In other words, the
faculty of speaking and the sense of hearing are the same. If one is
lost the other is lost.
The difference between science and mysticism is very
light; the difference is only that one goes so far and the other goes
farther still. Considering the idea of creation from a material point
of view a scientist goes as far as realizing that there are certain
elements which cause the creation, and form it into various objects.
When he goes farther still, he goes as far as atoms, molecules,
electrons, and then he comes to vibrations, and at this end he stands
still. He says that the basis of the whole creation must be movement,
and the finest aspect of movement is called vibration. The mystic is
not much different from the scientist who says that movement is at the
basis of the whole creation. The difference is that the mystics of
ancient times did not put a limit at the end which they called movement
or vibration: they traced the source in the divine Spirit.
According to the point of view of a mystic, what
existed before creation was the perfect Being. Perfect not in the
literal sense of the word, but in the sense of the spirit of the word;
for, in our everyday conversation, the word perfect is used for many
things which are limited, and the spirit of the meaning of perfection
is beyond words. By divine perfection a mystic means the perfection of
beauty, of wisdom, of power, the perfection of love, the perfection of
peace. But at the same time when there are eyes there must be an object
to look at, to admire; that is wherein the purpose of the eyes is
fulfilled. When there are ears there must be a sound to be heard in
order to enjoy its beauty; therein lies the fulfillment of the
existence of the ears. Therefore it was necessary for the perfect
Being, in order to realize His own perfection, to create a limited
perfection of His own Being. This is accomplished by the One being
divided into three aspects, which is really the secret behind the idea
of Trinity: the seer, the seen and the sight.
It is the work of the biologist to explain in detail
the gradual development of the creation. But the outline that the
mystics of all ages have made is that first was the creation of the
mineral kingdom, then that of the vegetable, then that of the animal
kingdom, and then that of man; and that through all this process of
development there has been a certain purpose that has led the creation
on to the fulfillment of a certain object. But when one studies the
whole process - the mineral, the vegetable, the animal kingdom and then
man - the seer finds something which was missing and which then appears
as the development goes on further. And what is it that was missing? It
is expression and perception, and it is this which the mystics have
pointed out in their symbolical expression: 'the word that was lost'.
What made them say that the word was lost, was that
in the beginning the word was there; there was movement, vibration, and
there was the consciousness of the perfect Being. The rocks were not
made - even from a scientific point of view - before vibrations
manifested. First there was vibration, and then followed the rocks. The
difference between the mystical and the scientific point of view is
this, that the scientist says that from the rock intelligence developed
by a gradual process, and the mystic says: 'No, the rock was only a
grade of intelligence; intelligence was first, and the rock came later'.
The whole process of manifestation suggests that it
is working towards some object, and that object is one and the same.
Yes, there are two points of view to look at it. One may say: 'A
mountain will some day turn into a volcano', or: 'A tree will some day
bear fruits, and therein the object of its being is fulfilled'. But
then there is another point of view which is perhaps more perfect: that
the stone and tree and animal and man all are working towards one
object, and that the whole process of the creation is working towards
it. And what is that purpose towards which every aspect of this
creation is working? What is it that the silent mountains are waiting
for in the wilderness? What is it that the woods, the trees, are
silently waiting for? What moment? What object? What is it that all the
animals are seeking and searching after - besides their food? And what
is it that is giving importance to man's every activity, and after the
fulfillment of each activity draws him on to another? It is one object,
but covered under many forms. It is the search after that word, the
word that was lost. The further the creation develops, the greater is
the longing to hear this word.
As there is a gradual process from the mineral to
the human kingdom, so is there also a gradual process from a certain
state of human evolution to a state of human perfection. What is it
that gives man the inclination to hear a word of admiration, a word of
praise that satisfies him? What is it that pleases him in hearing the
voice, the word of his friend? What is it that charms him in music, in
poetry, and gives him joy? It is the same word that was lost appearing
in different forms.
Creation - I mean the material creation - in its
beginning seems to be deaf and dumb. Who feels that pain of realizing
himself to be deaf and dumb? It is that spirit of perfection which once
was perfect in perception and expression. The explanation of the soul
which the great poet Jelal-ud-Din Rumi gives in the Mathnavi expresses
this idea in a poetic form. He says: 'The soul is as a bird in a cage,
deprived of that freedom and that joy which it was accustomed to
experience'. This also explains the main tragedy of life. Although
every man, every soul suffers pain to a certain degree, and every soul
will describe the cause of that pain differently, yet behind the
various causes there is one cause, and that cause is the captivity of
the soul. In other words: that the word was lost.
Souls at different stages of evolution wish to
search after this word that was lost, in the form in which they are
accustomed to search. Ways have been made to search for this word which
have become right ways and wrong ways, sins and virtues. It is
therefore that the wise are tolerant to all, for they see that every
soul has his own way to follow, his own purpose to accomplish. But in
the accomplishment of all these purposes is the one purpose, and that
is the finding of the word that was lost. No soul, however, will obtain
satisfaction unless he touches that perfection which is spoken of in
the Bible: 'Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect'. This
means that the Spirit of God itself has gone through different phases
to realize that perfection which has limited the perfection of God's
own Being, but which is intelligible. Therein lies the satisfaction.
Now one may ask: 'What explanation can be given of
this perfection? What is it? What experience is it?' This perfection is
what words can never explain, except by saying that the eyes of the
soul become open, and that from all sides that word which was lost
comes to the ears of this soul. The poets of the East have pictured it
in a beautiful imagery in the stories like that of Rama and Sita. They
have explained the joy of this perfection as a lover who, having lost
his beloved, has found her again. No imagery can better explain this
idea than this picture of a man who has lost his soul, and has found it
again.
Wisdom cannot be called truth. Wisdom is a form in
which the souls who have realized have tried to perceive the word in
life, or to interpret it to themselves. It is this wisdom which is
called in the Greek language sophia, and in Persian Sufi. Wisdom is the
interpretation of life made by someone whose point of view has become
different by looking at life in the sunlight. By Sufi message is meant
the message of wisdom. It is more a point of view than any teaching or
dogma or theory. One arrives at this point of view not only by study,
but by association with those who have that particular point of view.
Besides, by diving deep into life one comes to the realization of truth
and for diving deep into life there is a way or a process. It is
possible that either with some difficulty or with ease one may find a
place one is looking for in a town. One may look for it in different
directions, and at last find it. But by asking one who knows one can
find it sooner. The Sufi Movement therefore gives the facility of
studying, of coming into contact with those who have the same point of
view, and of knowing the ways through which one comes to the
realizations that are necessary on the path.
The idea of the word that was lost belongs to the
inner cult and the secret teaching of all ages. Very few at present
know, or at least seem to know, the meaning of it. There is not much
difference in belief between the mystic and the materialist, but there
is very much difference in their ideal. For instance, a materialist who
seeks for the source of the whole creation comes to the same conclusion
as the mystic: that there is only one source of the life of variety.
And both mystic and materialist come at the end of their path to the
same thing:
truth.
It is chiefly in their ideal that they differ. The
materialist thinks that all the consciousness and intelligence that one
sees in man is the natural development of life. The mystic says that
this consciousness or intelligence is the same as the unlimited
consciousness or intelligence which is put into different channels, and
that from this intelligence that existed in the beginning all
manifestation has come. Picturing the unlimited consciousness or
intelligence as the ocean, the consciousness or intelligence of man is
like a drop. Thus the materialist sees the intelligence of man as the
natural development of humanity, while the mystic sees it as the divine
essence, as one, as the source of all things.
In the belief of the mystic it is not only man who
is seeking for something; plants, animals, even rocks and mountains,
are all looking for something. Man who analyses life, distinguishes one
object as a thing, another entity as a being. In this way he divides
life into so many aspects, so many things, but in reality life is one.
Therefore he sees intelligence only in living beings. Although
intelligence is especially developed in man, there is mind also in
animals, in plants, in trees; each mind is a particle of the unlimited
intelligence. Often an animal thinks more than a man; one can only say
that the animal is not as much developed as man. According to the
mystic, mind exists also in plants and trees; in rocks and mountains
mind is hidden somewhere. Mind is working imperceptibly in all things,
in things that man only recognizes as objects.
Comparison between two minds shows that there is a
vast difference between them, but it is difficult to define it. Some
persons may have experienced in life how plants often respond to
influences, especially to the human beings around them, how they often
wither in a home where there is distress, disturbance, or disharmony,
and how they often live longer where there is harmony. When their
owners understand plants they become responsive to love, harmony and
sympathy; often plants feel the absence of these qualities. The
condition of a person's mind can be seen in its effect on the plants in
his surroundings.
The human being is so much absorbed in his own
affairs that he sees no further than he can see. Generally mankind is
too unaware of the condition of others; often man does not even know
the condition of those who are near and dear to him. If it were not so,
some nations could not be happy and comfortable while people in other
countries are starving and dying by millions. Man is unaware of the
secret of his own being. What he needs is to interest himself in the
life of beings in another phase of evolution, before he can come to the
fundamental basis, the consciousness of his own being.
If you have ever been far away in the forests or the
mountains, far away from all population, you will know that there
comes, consciously or unconsciously, a feeling of romance. The wind
that repeats the sound coming from the trees, the rocks, the murmur of
water running - all tell you that they are wanting to get back
something that has been lost. This feeling comes to human beings even
during the pleasures of everyday life, for then there is a joy that
opens up something in them, and then comes this yearning, and this
yearning one feels on every side, in the wilderness, in the forest.
There comes a feeling of longing, of deep yearning of the heart, the
searching for something that has been lost. When we look at the beings
living around us we see the same thing. For instance, look at the birds
and contemplate their restless flight, the ceaseless roaming of animals
in the forest. The first thought that might come is that they are
searching for food, but he who has a deeper insight into nature will
certainly feel their restlessness, their searching for that which is
lost.
There is the same tendency in human beings, although
the human being has much interest in life through his various
occupations and moods. He finds a thousand and one excuses for his
restlessness, for his depression, and illusion is so much developed in
man that a reason always comes at his command. There is always someone
who will say to a poor man: 'It is sad for you that you are not rich',
or someone comes and says: 'You look depressed; I know there is so much
sorrow, that is the reason'. But reason is always at man's command and
is applied outwardly, so man cannot find the real reason which is
within. That reason is suppressed beneath all the reasoning, and man
seeks - more than the animal kingdom does - to get back something that
has been lost. Nowadays life never gives man a moment in which to be
quiet, to ponder upon the true cause of his constant unhappiness. Also
it keeps him in an illusion; always looking outwardly he can never find
the cause outside himself. It is as if he were looking for the moon on
the earth!
Now you may ask: 'What has man lost?' The answer is:
God himself, that perfect intelligence that is in every being, that
intelligence that the Vedanta calls light. In the Qur'an it is said
that God is light, which means that the light of God is immanent in the
world of names and forms, in all that exists in this world of variety.
In this world of variety different forms of activity are producing
different results. Yet man in this life of illusion has the same
intelligence, the perfection of which he can realize in that state of
consciousness where he is aware of his own perfection.
The religions, the mystics, the philosophers of all
ages have given the key to this secret, and that is what the Sufi
message is bringing back to humanity. Christ has said it so
beautifully: 'Be ye perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect'. The
yearning of every soul is for the realization of that perfection; that
is the longing, consciously or unconsciously, of every thing, of every
being in this world. There is something in the whole creation which is
like an alarm-clock set for a certain time to make a sound, so that one
may awaken. That clock sounds through all the activity of evolution,
and when a certain point of evolution is touched man is awakened by the
alarm: that is the word that was lost. It has its echo in the longing.
Now you may ask: 'How can one listen, how can one
find that word?' That word rises from one's own heart, re-echoing in
everything in this universe. If it does not rise from one's own heart
it cannot be heard in the outer world. You may ask: 'What is the sign?
What makes it rise? Who can hear it?' The answer is: as soon as this
word rises in your own heart, you touch God, you touch perfection, and
then you begin to understand the divine tongue, and the secret that was
closed for so long seems to be revealed.
Ancient stories, stories in the Bible, tell of men
speaking with trees, with running water, of sounds coming from the
rock. A man without patience will not stop to listen, he hurries on. He
is ready to laugh at such things, but there is nothing surprising or
impossible in it. This world which is around us sounds continually; the
word re-echoes in all things. Only man must be aware of his privilege,
of this underlying oneness of all life. The whole treasure of the
universe is in the understanding of the mystical idea. This lack of
religion of today, this increasing materialism - what is its cause? It
is caused by the lack of knowledge of religion; it is the spirit of
religion that is lost.
Mankind cannot all be turned one way. Form does not
matter; form is nothing without spirit. What is needed is the
understanding of each other's faith, respect for each other's ideal,
regard for that which is dear to our fellow-men and other creatures.
The attempt to make the whole world believers of one faith would be -
if it could succeed - as if all men had the same face. It would become
a very uninteresting world.
The work that the Sufi message has therefore to
accomplish is to bring forward this idea of the mystics that it is the
spirit, not the form, that matters; that one should understand the
belief of others, and come to the realization of the word that was
lost, which is the seeking of every soul; that one should reflect that
picture of oneness in order to hear again the word that was lost, to
hear it sounding in one's own heart.