M6:3906 — چون به درد دیگران درمان بدی / درد مهمان تو آمد تن زدی

Translation: Since you were a remedy for the pains of others, When pain became your guest, you drew back (held silent). Meaning: This verse criticizes hypocrisy and inaction, pointing out that one who readily offers solutions to others' problems often falters or retreats when faced with their own.

This verse, without a doubt, falls within the ambit of Mowlana's sharp and profound rebukes aimed at scholars who fail to act on their knowledge and preachers who do not heed their own admonitions. It is a critique of those whose tongues are fluent in counsel, yet whose hearts remain devoid of corresponding action. Mowlana, with exquisite clarity and directness, addresses these moral teachers, asking: 'O tongue, who was a counsel to all / When it was your turn, why did you hold back?' This implies remaining silent and abstaining from speaking or acting when it comes to one's own self-correction. This is precisely the meaning of 'tan zadan'—to draw back or evade responsibility.

I see this as the very critical error against which the Holy Quran warns us: 'Great is hatred in the sight of God that you say what you do not do.' It is utterly displeasing to God to witness one proclaim something that one does not practice. This failure to act upon knowledge darkens the heart and leads one to hypocrisy. A word that does not originate from the heart will never, by necessity, settle in the heart of the listener and prove effective. Just as Mowlana laments:

Since you were a remedy for the pains of others, When pain became your guest, you drew back (held silent).

You have been a physician for the pains of others, always having a cure for every ailment and a solution for every problem. Yet, when it came to your own pain, you fell silent and abstained from healing yourself. This is the peril that befalls people of letters and eloquence; they grow old untangling the knots of others' problems, while their own remain unaddressed. Let us recall that 'The essence of all sciences is this / That you know who I am on the Day of Judgment.' If, with all this knowledge, we are to lose ourselves and not become more fully ourselves, then what was the purpose of all this learning?

This verse is a deep critique of fruitless 'weaving' (bāfāndegī), a term I borrowed from my late esteemed mentor, Dr. Sayyed Jafar Shahidi. He used this idiom to describe certain philosophical and mystical ideas by great thinkers like Ibn al-ʿArabi, which, though seemingly constructing a dazzling and magnificent world of words, are ultimately hollow. Mowlana, with a similar critical stance, says: 'What you wove intelligently for fifty years / From that fabric, make a cloak for yourself to wear.' Meaning, you spent your entire life weaving words and theories; now, what is the product of this weaving? Has it provided a garment to cover your own pains? Has it led you to self-knowledge? Or have you merely lost yourself in the clamor of advising others and boasting of wisdom? This echoes the common proverb: 'You grazed so much, where is your fat?' Mowlana implies that the outcome of all these theoretical debates and efforts should ultimately lead to the individual's self-improvement and the resolution of their own pains; otherwise, all such endeavors will end in loss. This verse, ultimately, is a call to honesty with oneself and to accountability for the knowledge we have acquired.

Key takeaways

• The verse critiques hypocrisy and disingenuity in the practice of knowledge and ethics.
• One must address and heal their own pains sincerely before attempting to remedy others'.
• Remaining silent or inactive when facing personal challenges is the failing of unheeding scholars and preachers.
• Only words spoken from the heart, practiced by the speaker, can truly resonate with the listener's heart.
• The ultimate goal of all knowledge and thought is self-knowledge and self-improvement, not mere theoretical 'weaving'.