Chapter 7: The Fire and the Child’s Call to Faith

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Okay, let's unpack this.

Today, we're diving deep into some truly profound wisdom.

We are.

We're looking at Rumi's The Maznavi, Book One.

Yes, an absolute treasure.

It's full of these captivating stories, but they're woven through with timeless spiritual lesson.

Exactly.

So our mission really in this deep dive is to pull out those potent nuggets of knowledge,

explore the richness of Rumi's metaphors, and kind of see how these ancient words can offer surprising clarity, some real insight for your life today.

Yeah, it's not just beautiful poetry, is it?

It really feels like a guide.

A guide to understanding the unseen, you could say.

I think that's a great way to put it.

And what's really fascinating here is how Rumi does it.

Right.

He uses these vivid narratives, these allegorical tales, to get across some really complex spiritual truths.

Simple stories on the surface.

Deceptively simple.

Kings, idols, miracles.

But he transforms them.

It becomes this profound commentary on, well, faith, the self,

the divine order of things.

So as we go through these lines, we're not just looking at what happened in the story.

No, not at all.

We're digging into why it matters.

Connecting those dots, hopefully, to a larger spiritual picture for you.

Okay, so where do we start?

There's a compelling contrast early on, isn't there, about reverence?

Yes, absolutely.

He sets it up right away.

Rumi talks about respecting a holy name, Muhammad's name, also called Ahmad.

And we learn that that group were saved from terror for the good way they behaved.

Their reverence had a tangible effect.

Yeah, and Muhammad's light became their helpful friend.

And it didn't just save them, their offspring flourished, fortune didn't end.

It paints this picture of, like, ongoing blessing.

Protection, prosperity, passed down.

But then Rumi immediately shows us the flip side.

The contrast, yes.

Those who held the name Muhammad in contempt, well, they met shame and suffering so severe.

To serious consequences.

And their faith was tampered with, leading to false, misleading scrolls.

So disrespect led to distortion, to untruth.

And if we connect this to the bigger picture, Rumi's laying down a really foundational principle here.

Which is?

The profound power of reverence, but also alignment with truth.

You know, Ahmad's name is described as a fort that foes can't penetrate.

A fortress.

Exactly.

But it's not just about the syllables of a name, is it?

It's about aligning with the divine essence behind the name.

Rumi suggests the truthful spirit state is an even greater source of protection.

So the inner state is key.

Absolutely.

So for you, listening, this raises a really important question.

What principles or truths do you hold dear?

And how does your reverence for them, your alignment with them, shield you from maybe internal chaos or even external challenges?

It's like building your own spiritual fort.

That's a powerful idea.

And this theme of consequence, it builds, doesn't it?

It definitely does.

The next story reinforces it.

We move to another Jewish king who attempted to destroy the Christians, too.

And Rumi explicitly says he was imitating the former king's bad precedent.

So bad actions create patterns.

Right.

And Rumi states it so clearly.

Those who established evil customs still receive each hour a curse, which makes them ill.

Wow.

Each hour.

That's relentless.

Yeah.

Well, the habits of the good don't fade away.

So actions have this enduring echo, good or bad.

And this really highlights Rumi's understanding of, let's call it cosmic law.

It's not just about human payback.

No, it feels deeper.

It's a deeply ingrained spiritual consequence.

It plays out over time, maybe even generations.

He uses that amazing metaphor.

In parallel veins, different waters pass.

Right.

I remember that.

With sweet water reaching good men in the end.

And this sweet water, he links it to the book we send, Divine Guidance.

So guidance is like pure water flowing to the good.

Precisely.

Rumi's showing that good and evil actions, they set these flows in motion.

And these flows, they continue till the trumpet blast until the very end.

That's quite a thought.

The permanence of our choices.

It is.

The takeaway here is profound.

The choices you make, whether virtuous or harmful, they create these ripples.

They extend, shaping not just your own destiny, perhaps, but the spiritual landscape around you.

It really urges you to reflect on the lasting nature of the paths you forge.

Okay, so from earthly actions and their consequences,

Rumi then shifts our gaze upwards.

Yeah.

Towards the stars.

He does, yeah.

It starts off sounding almost like, you know, conventional astrology.

Right.

He mentions Venus leading to love and what's right, and Mars leading to war and enmity.

Seems straightforward enough.

Standard associations, yeah.

But then, here's where it gets really interesting.

This is the pivot you mentioned.

This is the pivot.

He says, Beyond them, there's another universe where stars don't burn out nor seem ominous.

Another universe.

Describing them as bathed in the light of God, immaculate, pure, divine stars.

Okay, and then there's that line, if for ascendant you have one of these, your soul will burn each infidel you seize.

Now, that sounds pretty intense.

It does sound intense, you're right, and it raises that crucial question.

Is he talking about literal destruction of other people?

Or is there something else going on, a deeper meaning?

Exactly, and I think Rumi is absolutely moving beyond conventional astrology here.

This is a higher spiritual astronomy.

These other heavens, these stars, they symbolize direct divine influence, uncorrupted by earthly limitations.

Right.

So, the burning of the infidel, it's not about attacking others, it's about inner purification within you.

Ah, okay.

Burning away falsehood.

Yes.

Falsehood, ego, everything inside you that isn't aligned with truth, it's a transformative fire, not a destructive one aimed outwards.

That makes a lot more sense in context.

Doesn't it?

And Rumi emphasizes, God lets his radiance fall, but the lucky lift their skirts to catch it all.

You have to be ready to receive it.

You do, and he adds, whoever lacked a skirt acquired through love could not catch any radiance from above.

So, love is the key, the prerequisite.

Love is the essential prerequisite.

It's what opens you up, makes you receptive to that divine light, allows that inner purification to happen.

Wow.

And he uses colors too, right?

To explain this inner state.

He does, it's another brilliant metaphor.

The ox has, on the outside, colored skin.

Colors and humans are found deep within.

Inside us.

Deep inside.

Bright colors from the vat of purity,

and ugly ones from brooks of cruelty.

And crucially, the coloring by God is rated first.

So, our inner color, our state,

determines what we receive.

Precisely.

Your inner state, which you cultivate through purity,

or unfortunately, cruelty, determines your capacity to perceive and absorb that divine radiance.

So, the question for you becomes, what inner colors are you cultivating?

Are you positioning yourself through love to really receive this higher influence?

That really shifts the focus inward.

Okay, so then the story,

it takes a really dark turn, doesn't it?

With the king in the fire.

It does.

It becomes very literal, very external again for a moment.

The Jewish king sets up this literal fire pit and an idol next to it, and the demand is brutal.

Bow down before this to be free, or else you'll burn in fire eternally.

It's the ultimate test of faith, isn't it?

A terrifying ultimatum.

Absolutely.

But Rumi, he doesn't just leave it there.

He immediately peels back that external layer.

That's his genius.

He instantly deconstructs it.

He reveals the depper spiritual truth, stating the king was not dealing with his own self -savile abuse.

Ah, so the external act came from an internal problem.

Exactly.

And an idol forms what he let it produce.

The idol wasn't the real problem.

Rumi makes it crystal clear.

Idols are sparks your flint -like self sends out.

Wow.

Ourself sends them out.

Yes.

The real idol, the one he calls the mother of all idols, is your dragon self, the ego, the lower self, the carnal soul.

The enemy within.

That's it.

And he delivers that stark, maybe uncomfortable truth to break an idol is an easy task.

Relatively speaking.

Right.

But to smash yourself is hard.

You need to ask.

He's saying, isn't it obvious the internal battle is the real battle?

It completely flips the script.

From fighting external tyranny to confronting the tyrant within.

It's challenging, certainly, but also incredibly liberating if you grasp it.

And this connects to other things he mentions, like the pharaohs.

Directly.

When he talks about pharaohs with their followers being drowned, he's not just talking about ancient Egypt.

It's a recurring pattern.

It's a continuous, ongoing struggle against tyranny.

Not just outside us, but inside each of us.

The ego is that internal pharaoh.

It's the source of our own self -imposed chains, our own inner oppression.

So the call to action is?

Rumi urges you.

Cling to the prophet and his god.

Take pride.

Your body's ignorant.

Cast it aside.

It's this powerful call for liberation from the ego's grip, which he sees as the root of all that external idol -making and cruelty.

Okay, so back to the fire.

The king forces the issue.

He does.

In a horrific moment.

He throws a woman's child into the flames, expecting her faith to finally break.

It's just unimaginable.

It is.

But then the miracle happens.

The child speaks.

From inside the fire.

Astonishing.

Saying,

stop, for I'm not dead.

I haven't died.

I'm happy.

Join me here.

It only looks like fire, so have no fear.

I mean, just imagine hearing that.

And then the fire just blinds you to what's really there.

God's mercy, which has come out of thin air.

So the fire isn't fire.

It's mercy.

That's the incredible reversal.

The child speaks from the flames, not about pain, but about happiness, about serenity.

Rumi is completely inverting our perception of reality.

And the child invites them in, right?

Come and see water that's like fire.

It's true.

A world of fire, which seems like water, too.

Playing with those opposites.

And even recalls Abraham's well -hidden mysteries.

How Abraham found jasmine and tall cypress trees in the fire he was thrown into.

It's a complete redefinition of reality itself.

And this is where Rumi's profound use of paradox just shines.

It's central to his teaching.

The fire that should destroy.

Is actually a manifestation of God's mercy.

It's incredible.

And the child explains it beautifully, using the metaphor of wombs to describe spiritual growth.

Oh yeah, tell us about that.

The child says, when you gave birth to me, I saw my tomb.

Meaning the world seemed limiting after the womb.

But now that world seems like a womb to me.

For in this fire, I've found serenity.

So the fire is a new womb.

A higher stage.

Exactly.

The key insight is that this apparent fire, this thing that looks like annihilation, represents a bigger, brighter stage.

It's a world without a trace of death.

Where all atoms here have Jesus' pure breath.

A world that's dead in form, but lives in essence.

For you listening, this could be the ultimate aha moment.

What appears to be a threat, a trial, an ending in your life, could actually be a doorway.

A doorway to a higher state of being.

A profound serenity found right inside the perceived danger.

If you have the faith to see it that way.

If you have the faith and the love, the call to enter the flames like moths which burn their wings.

That sounds like destruction again.

It sounds like it, but it's a metaphor for self -annihilation.

In the sense of surrendering the ego completely.

Letting go of the self to merge with the divine will.

Not physical death, but death of the ego.

Precisely.

And that path, that surrender, leads to good fortune blossoming here, like endless springs.

And look at the crowd's response in the story.

They jump in.

They dived through love.

They didn't drag their feet.

It wasn't logic.

It wasn't fear that held them back.

It was love and the selfless faith that transformed the fire from a threat into a path to peace, to ultimate freedom.

Incredible story.

But what about the king?

Does he learn anything?

Well, there are consequences for him too, but perhaps not the transformation we might hope for initially.

The one who mocked the prophet's name.

Rumi says his smirk got fixed on his face.

Yes, a very public, very humiliating physical manifestation of his inner state.

And he does eventually beg for pardon, right?

He says to Muhammad, Prophet, pardon me, you have such grace and no truths mystery.

I made fun then because I was a fool.

He does.

It shows Rumi's illustration of divine consequence, but also, importantly, the power of humility.

Even for someone like him.

So there's still hope, even after mocking.

Rumi suggests so.

He notes that God sometimes makes men feel inclined to mock the pure, just to reveal their own immaturity.

But crucially, God also hides men's faults when they avoid blaming others and turn inwards.

So humility is the starting point for help.

That's the profound insight here.

When God should wish to help, he first decrees that we must humbly beg him on our knees.

Humility opens the door.

And then comes this beautiful, beautiful promise about tears.

Your tears will end with laughter, can't you tell?

How blessed are those who know the secret well?

Wherever tears are wept, God's mercy is shown.

Tears bring mercy.

Sincere tears, yes.

Tears of repentance, tears of longing, tears of compassion.

It's a message of hope and transformation through sincerity.

And he gives us an image for that, doesn't he?

The water wheel.

A wonderful, actionable image for you.

Be like the water wheel.

Weep endlessly so that your soul can grow its greenery.

Weep to grow.

Exactly.

It's not about wallowing in sadness.

It's about those tears of sincere devotion, of compassion for others.

They aren't weakness.

They are the wellspring for your spiritual growth.

They nurture your soul like water nurtures a garden.

That's beautiful.

Isn't it?

So Rumi's advice is clear.

To gain God's mercy, first you must have mercy first if tears are what you seek.

To gain God's mercy, pity all the week.

It ties it all together.

Humility, compassion, tears, and divine mercy.

A clear path.

So the king sees the miracle.

He sees the people dive into the fire.

He must be completely bewildered.

Utterly bewildered.

He can't square with the laws of nature as he understands them.

So he confronts the fire itself.

He asks it, what's going on?

Are you not meant to burn?

What happened to your special quality?

He's demanding an explanation from the element.

And the fire answers.

It does.

And its retort is incredibly powerful.

It really illuminates Rumi's whole view of creation.

What does it say?

The fire says, I've not changed, idolater.

Come in and feel my heat, you murderer.

My nature and my essence stay the same.

As God's own sword, I slash when he takes aim.

Whoa.

So the fire is still fire, but it's acting under orders.

Precisely.

It speaks to the absolute sovereignty of God over all his creation.

The fire clarifies his loyalty.

It uses that analogy of a Turkman's dogs, who fawn and whimper before the master's guests, but roar like lions at strangers.

The fire's nature hasn't changed.

Its obedience to God's command is what allows it to transcend its usual function for the believers.

So all elements are obedient.

That's the core insight.

They are all under a higher will.

This raises that crucial question about cause and effect, doesn't it?

How so?

Well, Rumi teaches that earth, water, wind, and fire, his faithful slaves alive with him, to us seem dead as graves.

We see them as inanimate, predictable forces.

But they're not.

Not entirely.

They are alive with God.

And he explains that the causes we perceive, like fire burning or wind blowing, they're merely instruments.

Instruments of a prior one, a higher cause.

So the immediate cause isn't the real cause.

Exactly.

Like the spark from iron and stone it travels out by God's command alone.

You are encouraged, you listening, to look beyond the immediate apparent causes.

To see the divine hand guiding all these phenomena we think of just natural.

And Rumi gives lots of examples of this, right?

Miracles, basically.

Vivid examples, yes, to drive the point home.

The wind, knowing exactly who to target among the men of As for the Prophet Hud.

Shaben the shepherd's simple line drawn on the ground, protecting his sheep from wolves, a spiritual boundary.

Abraham, feeling no alarm from Nimrod's fire.

The truly faithful being immune.

They can't be burnt by fires of lust.

Internal fires, too?

Internal fires, too.

The Red Sea parting for Moses but drowning his enemy.

The earth swallowing Korah.

Jesus' breath making clay birds fly.

Moses' divine light making Mount Sinai dance.

Wow, okay.

So all these demonstrate.

They all demonstrate that what we call natural laws are actually subservient to the divine will.

For you, this means that true faith, true alignment with that higher cause, can potentially transcend what seems physically impossible.

It's a profound call to shift your perspective from seeing only physical limitations to recognizing spiritual possibilities.

Despite witnessing all this, the king,

he hasn't changed.

Sadly, no.

Rumi says he did not, but mock and then deny what they all taught.

He even locks up his advisors who are starting to believe.

He doubles down on his denial.

He does.

But then, the final act,

the undeniable act of cosmic justice.

What happens?

A fire soared 40 feet above, and then it formed a ring and burned all of his men.

His own instrument of terror turns on his followers.

And Rumi adds that final note.

That crucial note.

Their origin was fire right from the start, back to their source they now had to depart.

It's a full circle, a return to their origin.

It perfectly reinforces Rumi's idea that particles track their universal source.

Everything is drawn back to where it came from.

Everything returns.

Everything.

Even hell, which he represents here as Huia, is described like a mother seeks her child.

There's this inherent undeniable pull towards wholeness, towards the source.

Like water going back to the ocean.

Exactly.

Water extracted by the wind returns as raindrops.

Souls return from this world's prison to places known alone by God.

So this whole deep dive, it really culminates in this idea of attraction back to the source.

I think so.

That this attraction's pull is from the source of all things spiritual.

That the part pines for the whole you'll always find.

The part wanting to rejoin the whole.

Yes.

And Rumi uses that wonderful analogy, kind of strange at first.

Water and bread with us you can't compare.

But once they're eaten, turn to flesh in there.

How did that relate?

It shows how even things that seem completely different, incompatible, even like bread and flesh, can become one.

They transform and unify in their ultimate purpose.

In their journey back to or integration with the source.

For you this means there's this fundamental yearning deep within your soul.

A yearning to return.

To return to its divine source.

And this whole journey of life with its trials and transformations is part of that process of unification.

Wow.

What a journey we've taken just in these passages.

It really is incredible wisdom.

So just to recap this deep dive.

We've journeyed through Rumi's Miznavi.

We've explored the immense power of reverence.

That relentless cycle of cosmic justice.

The good and bad echoes.

Right, the profound influence of that divine light, those immaculate stars.

And maybe the biggest challenge, conquering the self, that inner idol.

The dragon self.

Exactly.

We've seen fire literally transform into mercy.

And we've understood how our tears, our sincere tears, can actually water the soul's greenery, help us grow.

It's truly timeless wisdom, isn't it?

Not just poetic beauty, but really practical spiritual insight for navigating life.

Absolutely.

And maybe this raises one final important question for you to ponder as we wrap up.

Okay.

Rumi, through all these verses we've looked at, he consistently encourages us, encourages you, to look beyond the literal surface of things.

To question assumptions.

Yes, and to perceive that hidden hand of the divine at work in everything.

So,

if what appears to be a threat or a fire in your own life could actually be a manifestation of God's mercy in disguise.

Like for the child in the flames.

Exactly.

Then what fires might you be avoiding right now?

What challenges might you be running from that could, if faced with love and faith, actually lead to your bigger, brighter stage?

Your true serenity.

That's a powerful thought to leave people with.

What fires might actually be mercy?

Something to reflect on.

Well, thank you so much for joining us on this deep dive into Rumi's incredible wisdom today.

The pleasure, as always.

Keep exploring, keep questioning those assumptions, and keep seeking those profound insights that connect you to the heart of what truly matters in your life.

Until next time, keep diving deep.