Chapter 20: The Scribe, the Deaf Man, and the Fall of Angels

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Welcome to the Deep Dive, your shortcut to being well informed.

Glad to be diving in.

Today we're embarking on a really fascinating journey.

We're going into the profound world of Rumi's Maznavi, Book One.

And this isn't just, you know, ancient poetry.

It's like a mirror, isn't it?

Reflecting these universal human things.

Absolutely.

It shines a light on those tricky pitfalls of the ego and points towards where real wisdom actually comes from.

Right.

So what's our mission today with this Deep Dive?

Well, the goal is really to pull out those core spiritual lessons Rumi weaves into his verses.

We want to highlight his amazing poetic language, you know, the symbols, the metaphors, all that richness.

And connects back to us, right, to now.

Exactly.

Connect these timeless truths right to your personal understanding, your life today.

It's surprising how these old verses can be, well, a shortcut to really knowing ourselves better.

Okay.

And we're using Rumi's own words.

Yeah.

Straight from the Maznavi Book One excerpts.

That's the plan.

Let Rumi guide us.

All right, then get ready.

Let's unpack this.

Let's do it.

So Rumi starts us off pretty directly with this foundational idea that real healing, real guidance,

it overcomes from outside ourselves.

Yeah, from an external source.

Something beyond just us.

He puts it beautifully.

The guide puts on your wound a salve to heal.

Not you, but that guide's ray has soothed the pain.

Powerful.

It really makes you stop and think, doesn't it?

Yeah.

Where do my moments of clarity or healing, where do they actually come from?

It's a critical question because it immediately challenges that tendency we all have towards self -reliance, maybe even pride.

And he gives an example right away, doesn't he?

He does.

A really vivid cautionary one.

The story of the prophet's scribe.

Ah, yes.

The one who was writing down the revelations.

That's him.

Yeah.

So he's literally getting this ray of revelation shining his way, a glimpse of divine wisdom.

But here's the twist.

He starts thinking it's his wisdom.

Exactly.

He convinces himself the truths God's messenger likes to impart I now hold in the depths of my own heart.

He mistakes the reflection for the source.

Oh dear.

And what happened?

What were the consequences of that mistake?

Well, it wasn't good.

That pride, it led him to lose his faith entirely.

He actually became an enemy of the prophet.

Wow.

And faced a tragic end.

Rumi uses it to show how inner pride, even when you're seemingly so close to the divine, can just lead to absolute ruin.

So it's a warning.

A stark one.

The prophet apparently told him, you're dark.

How can you be light's source as well?

If you were a sweet fountain that's divine, you wouldn't have produced such filthy brine.

That image.

Sweet fountain versus filthy brine.

It says it all about the interstate, doesn't it?

What comes out reveals what's inside.

Precisely.

And Rumi expands on this.

He talks about reputation becoming a huge weight.

Yeah.

Finding that out once it's too late.

Right.

And how unbelief and pride block the path.

He calls them an inner shackle, a hidden chain.

Those are harder to break than physical chains, aren't they?

Much harder.

Because they're invisible, often even to ourselves.

And that's the core lesson here, maybe.

Rumi warns that the pain from your being, from these inner flaws, this pride, is way more intense, lasts longer than external hurts, like wasp stings.

So external wounds heal, but the internal ones,

they fester if we don't deal with them.

Exactly.

Which is why looking inward, that introspection, it's tough.

Often painful, but just absolutely vital.

Okay, so if our flaws cause the deepest pain,

and our wisdom isn't really ours to begin with, Rumi takes this even further.

He does.

He really wants us to grapple with this idea that everything, our abilities, our strengths, maybe even our existence, and while it's lent, it's borrowed.

This is where it gets really interesting, I think.

This idea of being dependent.

It is.

He uses these wonderful allegories, like the neighboring house.

Tell us about that one.

He says, inside, a house may look so warm and bright, the neighboring house, though, has bestowed this light.

So the warmth, the brightness you feel inside, it might just be a reflection from somewhere else.

That's the idea.

It's borrowed light, borrowed warmth.

Which naturally leads to the question, why are we so tempted to claim it as our own?

The ego, I suppose.

Wanting to feel self -sufficient.

That seems to be Rumi's point.

Then there's the iron and fire analogy.

Right.

Iron's not red.

In fire, though, red it turns.

Due to the heat of flames in which it burns.

So the iron seems strong, brilliant, red hot.

But only because of the fire it's in.

Take it out of the fire.

And it goes back to being just iron.

Cold, dark iron.

Wow.

So our brilliance, our strength,

might just be temporary states lent to us.

That's what he suggests, like the window and sun, too.

How does that one go?

A window may fill up your house with light.

That's not the light source, though.

Adjust your sight.

The window brings the light in, sure.

But it isn't the light.

The sun is.

Exactly.

And Rumi adds this kicker.

The doors and walls might boast, I am the source.

But the sun replies, basically, just wait till I set.

Then you'll see the truth.

Oof.

When the external source goes, the illusion just collapses.

That's dark.

It really is.

It strips away that illusion of self -sufficiency and it keeps going.

Plants in summer.

Oh, yeah.

They think they're green and beautiful all by themselves.

But summer answers?

Listen, everyone.

Just take a look in autumn when I'm done.

Our vitality depends on the season of grace, you could say.

It's humbling.

Deeply humbling.

And maybe the most powerful one is the body and spirit.

Ah, yes.

The body shows off its handsome face, right?

But the spirit, the source of life, hearing, speech, sight, essentially shouts back, hey, cesspool, you only last a day or two thanks to my light.

And when the spirit leaves.

The body decays, becomes food for worms.

Its beauty turns into a foul smell.

It shows the utter dependence of the physical on the spiritual and ultimately on the divine source behind it all.

It just dismantles any idea of inherent self -worth based on our own power, which makes it Rooney's command crystal clear, doesn't it?

It does.

Give thanks.

Don't raise your nose in arrogance.

Shun self -conceit.

Don't live in ignorance.

So the question for you listening right now is,

when things go well, when you feel strong or insightful,

are you recognizing the source?

Are you giving thanks?

Or maybe just maybe is your nose creeping up a little.

Hmm.

It's a constant check -in we need to do.

And Rooney doesn't just leave it at individual psychology.

He looks at history, even angels.

Right.

He critiques those logical philosophers.

Yeah.

The ones who doubt things they can't empirically prove, like moaning pillars or demons.

He contrasts their infidelity and vile corruption with the Sufi mystics.

The ones who pursue direct experience.

Exactly.

Those who clearly heard the unseen.

His point seems to be that relying only on rational thought can actually blind you to deeper realities.

So you can be trapped in a kind of intellectual pride, even if you think you have true belief.

Precisely.

It's another inner shackle.

And he hammers this home with more cautionary tales, really powerful ones.

Like Satan.

Like Satan, who apparently led saints for millennia, but then fought with Adam out of pride and was disgraced like dung that's thrown aside, all because of pride.

And wasn't there another figure?

Bollam.

Yes, Bollam, son of Bauer, revered like the Jesus of his age, could supposedly heal the sick.

But he fought with Moses out of self -conceit and met a similarly grim fate.

Rooney says they were essentially hanged in the public square as to warn off the rest.

Wow.

The lesson is blunt.

Very.

When you keep in your bounds, to God, your dear, don't overstep the mark.

Is that quite clear?

Know your place.

Practice humility.

And this applies even to beings we might think are beyond pride, like angels.

Apparently so.

He tells the story of Harut and Marut, two angels who fell from grace.

What was their issue?

They became self -satisfied.

They looked down at humanity, saw the sin and depravity and basically waved their fists and anger at mankind, feeling superior, all while being totally blind to their own shortcomings.

But hang on, their purity, their closeness to God, that wasn't something they achieved, was it?

Exactly.

That was the whole point of God's rebuke to them.

It was profound.

He told them, essentially,

your chastity, your immaculateness, that's my gift, my affection showing through you.

It's not yours.

So consider me and not yourself the source.

Back to the core message.

Always back to the core message.

Don't fall for the devil's trick of self -importance.

He uses metaphors here, too, like the axe.

The axe chopping strong branches but sparing flimsy leaves.

Right.

And the wind uprooting mighty trees but just making the grass look nicer.

Divine power can crush rigid pride, but it nurtures humility, flexibility.

That pattern of self -deception, though.

Being blind to our own stuff while judging others.

Rumi brings that down to earth, doesn't he, with that story?

Oh, the deaf man visiting his sick neighbor.

Yes, it's brilliant and uncomfortably relatable sometimes.

Totally.

So the deaf man, he can't really hear, so he decides beforehand how the whole conversation will go.

He does.

He maps it all out in his head based on pure assumption.

I'll ask how he is.

He'll say, all right, I'll ask what he ate.

He'll say bean soup.

I'll say to health.

Then ask about the doctor.

And of course, it goes completely off the rails.

Hilariously and tragically wrong, he asks, how are you?

The poor sick guy groans almost dead.

And the deaf man sticking to his script.

Chirps.

The Lord be praised.

The sick man is just furious.

Then what have you had, sick man?

A poisonous drink?

Deaf man.

To health.

Oh no, it gets worse.

It does.

Which doctor's coming?

Sick man at his wits end.

The angel of death, so just go away.

And the deaf man's response.

Beaming, probably.

Rejoice, save the day.

He leaves feeling great about himself.

Thank God I came, he thinks.

While the sick guy is probably thinking that man's my worst enemy.

Exactly.

He thinks he did a righteous act, but it was pure performance based on zero actual understanding.

He was deaf, literally and metaphorically.

So what's the sharpest point Rumi wants us to take from this disastrous visit?

What's the challenge here?

Rumi drives it home.

The deaf man's temporal reasoning's powers are unfit for revelation, which is infinite.

His inner ear has still not heard.

So even doing something that looks like a good deed, like visiting the sick.

If it comes from that place of self -satisfaction, of assumption, of not truly listening, Rumi says it's just sin in disguise.

Wow.

That's a high bar.

Yeah.

It means really examining our motives, our presence.

Are we truly listening?

Yeah.

Or just playing out our own script?

In every interaction, really.

Spiritually, personally.

Are we projecting or are we receiving?

And that brings us back to logic, doesn't it?

The limits of logic.

Yeah.

Rumi links relying solely on analogy and logic straight back to Satan.

Remember his argument?

Fire is better than clay, so I'm better than Adam.

Sounds logical on the surface.

But it completely missed the deeper spiritual reality.

God's response was basically, okay, if that's your logic, then kinship between you and Adam is severed.

Spiritual connection isn't about earthly materials or flawed human reasoning.

He gives examples, right?

Like kids who turned out differently from their parents.

Exactly.

But Y 'all's son found faith despite his opposing father.

Noah's son tragically went astray despite having a prophet for a father.

It's about the heart, not the bloodline or the logic.

So logic has its place, but it's not the final word, which leads to that Kebla analogy.

Calculating the direction for prayer at night versus seeing the Kaaba itself during the day.

Okay.

So what does that mean for us trying to understand things?

Well, at night, when the truth is hidden,

you need calculations, reasoning, inference.

That's useful.

That's necessary.

But when the Kaaba, the direct truth, is right there in front of you in daylight to keep doing the calculations, that's foolish.

It means you're not looking at what's actually there.

You're trusting your map instead of the territory right in front of you.

Relying on logic when direct insight is available is like closing your eyes.

You got it.

And his final metaphor drives this home,

the bird's song.

Learning the language versus understanding the meaning.

Precisely.

Just learning the bird's tongue, the external form of a message, like the prophet scribe did by writing the words down.

That doesn't mean you get the actual aim, the love, the spirit behind it.

And the scribe, like the deaf man, thought he understood the bird, but he was blinded by pride.

And ended up in death's well of suffering because he missed the essence.

He had the form, but not the spirit.

Which brings us to Rumi's final, very direct warning.

It feels like a summation.

It really does.

Have mercy on bad people's wickedness and curse instead your own self -centeredness.

Turn the focus inward.

The real battle isn't out there.

It's in here.

That seems to be the constant refrain in Rumi's wisdom, doesn't it?

As we've seen today, the core lesson is just.

It's about identifying and shedding those layers.

Pride, self -deception, the illusion of self -sufficiency, all the stuff that clouds our vision and disconnects us from the true source.

The source of real wisdom, real grace.

Yeah.

It demands constant vigilance, you know?

And deep humility.

Recognizing that what we think are our strengths are our best qualities.

They're often gifts.

Barred light.

So as we wrap up this deep dive, maybe the question for you listening is to reflect on your own borrowed states.

What strengths, what insights are you maybe taking full credit for?

Good question.

And what hidden chains, those inner assumptions that pride might be holding you back,

preventing you from really seeing or hearing or connecting.

What stands out most to you from all this?

Lots to ponder there.

Definitely.

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

It's been a pleasure.

We really hope it sparked something and encourage you to seek that deeper understanding maybe not just from books, but from your own inner ear and looking to the true source.

Well said.

Until next time, keep diving deep.