[Tariqas] Meeting the Master - a short and true Sufi story

[IrvingK57 at aol.com]

Salaam Alaikum Dear Friends:  
Here is a short and true Sufi tale for your enjoyment.
 

Meeting the Master
 
On the day before summer, I finally met the Master. And though I have  
thought of him often and dreamed of him and talked to him in my mind, even  missed 
him as though we were separated family, I had never actually met him nor  
spoken to him. 
 
     Over the years I have read all his books and  heard many stories about 
him. And for many of those years I had written a Sufi  novel entitled Master of 
the Jinn, a project whose research led me to read many  Sufi texts, and whose 
unfolding became almost like a zekr as I worked on it for  hours each night. 
For much of that time I was fortunate enough to live in a  khaniqah, whose 
library and energy and knowledgeable darvishes helped  enormously. 
 
    Now, I thought, I had created something worthwhile  enough so as to be 
worthy of meeting the Master and being in his company. How  little I knew of the 
Master, or of his loving-kindness.
 
   And so, after ten hours of travel, I arrived in England,  and by chance 
met a fellow darvish who apparently was on the same plane. He saw  my sleeping 
bag and guessed I was going to the same, very crowded khaniqah.  There was to 
be a large gathering of dervishes from all over the world and many  brought 
tents or sleeping bags.  Together we traveled to the khaniqah by  taxi. 
 
     Shortly after we arrived, the Master called  us into his room, as he 
does all dervishes who come from a far distance. We went  into the small bedroom 
of the main house, kissed the threshold, and entered. The  Master was dressed 
in white and sat cross-legged, and we sat on our knees before  him. He greeted 
us warmly, and as he looked at me his face lit up with wide-eyed  surprise 
and joy, as if I were someone he was not expecting but happy to see.  Perhaps it 
was my imagination, but my heart sang. I remembered well the tales of  the 
Master’s glance and attention. 
 
He asked how our trip had been.
 
            “It was  a good trip, one I want to make often, inshallah,” my 
companion said.
 
            “Sufis  are always inshallah (God willing),” the Master replied. 
“There is no need to  say it.” 
 
            We  nodded our heads, and after a few kind words, he smiled and 
said, “Welcome,  then” and waved us out.
 
            As soon  as we were outside, I felt a sharp pain in my left knee, 
as if I had twisted it,  though I could not for the life of me remember how.. 
I limped upstairs to get  some aspirin, and found a darvish there whom I knew 
well. 
 
            “Do you  have another pair of pants with you?” he asked me?
 
            “Only a  pair of sweats. Why?”
 
            “Because  you have a large tear in yours, on the seat.”
 
            I turned  my head to look, and groaned. It was a wide tear.
 
            “Get a  needle and thread from someone and sew it,” he suggested.
 
            “What  the hell is going on?” I thought, taking the aspirin and 
changing into sweat  pants for the time being. 
 
 Once outside, I met a Shaykh I knew walking on the grounds and  greeted him 
happily, kissing his cheeks.  He asked how I was doing.
 
“Well, I’ve been here for half an hour and I’ve already twisted my knee and  
torn my pants,” I said.
 
He chuckled, “Such things are common here.” 
 
I borrowed needle and thread from one of the darvishes and walked to the  
sleeping area to mend the tear.  As I limped along the path, I realized  suddenly 
what a fool I had been. I had walked in with pride, and limped out in  
humility. I had come in arrogance and received torn pants for my folly. 
 
“Thank you, Master!” I cried. 
 
And the words of the great Junayd came to my heart.
 
“I will go a thousand leagues in falsehood, that one step of the journey  may 
be true.”
 

by Irving Karchmar, author of Master of the Jinn: A Sufi Novel.  Copyright 
2005, All rights reserved.  _http://www.masterofthejinn.com_ 
(http://www.masterofthejinn.com/)  


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