The Angel of Death
Solomon, the wise prophet, held daily audiences during which he listened
to his subjects’ complaints and tried to address their problems. One
morning, as he was listening to one person after another, a distraught man
hurled himself into the great court. Solomon noticed how distressed the man
was and beckoned him forward. Grateful for being invited to the front of the
queue, the man fell to his knees before the great benefactor.
“What seems to be causing you such anguish, my dear fellow?” asked
Solomon compassionately.
“The Angel of Death, my lord! I saw him a minute ago as I was crossing
the street. He glared at me with such disdain that my heart nearly stopped!”
“We all know that Azrael takes his orders only from God and never
wavers in his duties,” asserted the great prophet. “Now tell me, what would
you have me do?”
“I beg of you, my life’s in your hands. Please tell the wind to carry me to
India, where I’ll be safe from the Angel’s harm.”
Promptly Solomon ordered the East Wind to carry the nearly paralyzed
man to India and lay him down wherever he chose. He then duly returned to
his other subjects’ unattended affairs.
The following day when he returned to court, Solomon caught a glimpse
of the Angel of Death among the crowd. He motioned the Angel to approach
and asked him: “Why do you frighten people with that wrathful look, to the
point that they abandon their livelihood and forsake their homes and family?
What had that poor man done yesterday to deserve your crushing glare?”
Azrael was surprised. “My lord, I didn’t look at him wrathfully at all! In
fact, I was astonished to see him!” he said. “God had commanded me to take
his pitiful life today in India, and I couldn’t imagine, even if he had a million
wings, how was he to get there on time. I was startled and gazed at him with
surprise, not anger!”
When you look at everything in life with the eyes of want and greed,
what do you hope to escape? Yourself? God? Is that possible?
Spitting at Imam Ali
In the early years of Islam in the Arab lands, the newly converted Moslems
waged many wars with others who did not yet believe in Islam, people
widely known as infidels. In one war, Ali, the prophet’s son-in-law, who was
a very competent warrior, came face to face with another capable soldier. Ali
succeeded in bringing his opponent to his knees in a short, sharp fight and
raised his sword to take the man’s life. The proud soldier believed that his end
was imminent, and all he could think to do was take one last spiteful action: he
spat at Ali, right in the face. Ali immediately withdrew his sword and stepped
back, sparing the man’s life.
The subdued warrior was stunned; he had expected the worst and now
was perplexed that he was still alive. He needed an explanation; he needed to
know why Ali had taken pity on him. Before Ali could walk away from their
encounter, the warrior called out to him: “Ali, you had drawn your sword to
finish me off but changed your mind. What made you drop your weapon?
What did you see in me when we fought that made you lose interest and spare
my life? You had the upper hand; you’d won the fight. What else was more
important than finishing me off? What suppressed your anger at that instant?”
“I only fight for God,” responded Ali. “I’m God’s servant; I’m not in the
business of saving my own skin. I’m God’s unbeatable lion, not a whimsical
warrior of passion! Not words but actions speak for my belief. The sword
might be in my hand, but it is God who strikes. Just like the wind that cannot
move a mountain, I too shall not move other than by God’s will.
“Anger makes most kings lose their heads, but anger is my obedient slave!
It’s indeed my patience that has freed me from the yoke of anger. My sword
does not kill; instead, it bestows life! You spat at me, and thus raised an issue
that did not directly involve God; and I never fight for any reason other than
God. Your spitting aroused my ego and thus sparked off my anger. Had I used
my sword, I would have been fighting half for God and half for my ego! That’s
why I thought it best to withdraw my sword.”
Ali then turned to walk away, without looking back.
Jesus and the Skeleton
J esus often traveled from place to place, and various people tended to
accompany him for parts of his journey. On one occasion, as he was leav¬
ing a small village, a young man began to follow him. Not long after they had
set out, the young man spotted the bones of some anonymous creature in a
ditch. His curiosity was raised, and, believing that he had discovered an aban¬
doned human skeleton, he started to poke the bones with his stick.
“Are you not the greatest prophet on the face of the earth?” he asked
Jesus. “Then you must know the secret of bringing back the dead!”
Jesus ignored his comment, but the man persisted: “Please, great prophet,
teach me how to give life to these useless bones, so that I too can say that I’ve
accomplished a worthy deed.”
Jesus was annoyed and continued to ignore the young imbecile, but the
man wouldn’t relent and repeated his request again and again. Jesus was begin¬
ning to lose patience, and, sure enough, he eventually snapped: “Be quiet, this
is no task for a fool! This work requires a soul purer than rainwater, a self
more sentient than angels. You must live many holy lives before you can even
be considered a candidate for such a job. Let’s just imagine for argument’s
sake that you found a suitable staff, but where now is Moses to achieve the
miracle?” Jesus tried his best to make the simpleton grasp the importance of
the issue.
“All right, since you think that I’m not good enough to know the secret
prayer, then you do it. You give these bones life!” he repeated unrelentingly.
Utterly puzzled, Jesus wondered why this apparently ego-ridden man was
so bent on bringing these dead, forsaken bones back to life. He turned to God,
imploring Him to divulge the reason for this challenge, and soon he heard a
voice in his head:
“The piteous always drive themselves into a rueful state. They plant seeds
but sow thorns. And those who sow thorns have no place in the divine Gar¬
den. In their hands, every rose will become a thorn. If they fall in love, their
beloved will turn into a venomous snake, for their spirit is dark and nasty.
Their talent is in creating poison, unlike the true alchemist, who turns every¬
thing into precious gold!”
Quite curious by now, Jesus decided to fulfill the young man’s demand,
hoping to discover the purpose of this predicament that he found himself
in as well as ridding himself of the fellows exasperating company. Thus, he
uttered the prayer to raise the dead and blew it onto the shattered bones.
Unbeknown to Jesus and the young half-wit, the bones were not those
of a man but of a fierce black lion. In no time, the lion, raised from the dead,
snapped the young man’s head off, broke his arms and legs, and shredded his
body. Standing a few paces away, Jesus witnessed the attack in awe. Cautiously,
he approached the lion: “Why did you tear this poor man apart? He just made
me give you back your life!”
“I decimated his body because he had made you angry, O great prophet!”
said the lion obediently.
“Then why don’t you eat his flesh?” inquired Jesus.
“It’s not my fate today to be nourished by his body!” replied the grateful
lion, who then turned around and walked toward the distance.
A Thief at Hand
In the middle of the night, a man heard footsteps in his home and quickly
got out of bed to investigate. Sure enough, in his sitting room there stood a
thief, his hands filled with valuable objects. Taking fright, the burglar dropped
everything he had gathered and jumped out the window onto the street, while
the owner of the house gave chase. The owner, who was young and a fast runner,
scurried after the thief for a few blocks in the darkness until the thief could run
no more. The owner grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and was about to
drag him to the police station when he heard someone calling out to him.
“Come quickly, come and see the signs left by the thief who’s ravaged
your home!” screamed the unknown voice.
“What a kind and concerned citizen,” thought the owner. “What if there’s a
second thief in my home who might hurt my wife and children? That damage can
never be undone! What good would it do me if I tie up this man but lose the true
culprit? If I don’t listen to this stranger, I might regret it for a long time to come.”
The owner quickly let go of the thief he had caught and rushed back
home. Outside the house walls, in the dark, there stood the thief’s partner
waiting for the owner to come back.
“Thank you,” gasped the owner when he saw the second thief. “You’ve
done me a great service! Tell me, why were you calling me?”
“Let me show you the footprints of the thief; the bastard has run away in
that direction,” he said, pointing to his right. “If you chase him right away you
might still be able to catch him.”
“You idiot! What on earth are you talking about? I already had caught
him! You tricked me into letting him go. I had the truth in my grip and you are
now suggesting that I look for signs!”
“I’m well aware of the truth,” said the second thief, feigning innocence.
“I’m only trying to show you the signs of the truth!”
“You’re certainly either a burglar yourself or a total ignoramus! No, I’m
certain that in fact you are a thief and know exactly what the other chap was
up to. My enemy was in my hands and you made me set him free, and now
you’re blabbering about the truth!"
Sometimes, the truth is much too obvious; people erroneously search for
its signs while the real thing is staring them right in the face.
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