M6:1281 — چند دزدی حرف مردان خدا / تا فروشی و ستانی مرحبا

Translation: How long will you steal the words of men of God, So that you may sell them and receive applause?

Meaning: This verse chastises spiritual imposters who appropriate the teachings of divine figures to gain personal credibility and adulation, devoid of any genuine inner truth.

In this verse, Mowlana shifts his address from the hapless old woman, whom Satan reproaches, directly to the false claimants of insight and gnosis. These are individuals who outwardly adorn themselves to gain favor among people, yet inwardly possess no share of truth. Mowlana likens these “empty-handed” people to those who are inwardly satanic, just as he states elsewhere, "Since there are many Satans in human form, one should not give one's hand to every hand."

"Stealing the words of men of God" refers to the appropriation of the sayings and insights of great religious and mystical figures, not to quench one's own thirsty soul, but for mercenary exchange and to receive "marhabā" (applause) from others. This theft is a larceny from the realm of meaning, whose price is worldly pride and adulation. Mowlana here articulates the crucial distinction between rang-i barbaste (borrowed color) and rang-i raste (innate color). Rang-i barbaste refers to something taken as a loan from outside and attached to a person; applying rouge to the face to appear rosy is a clear example. Rang-i raste, however, is a color that emanates from the depths of one's soul, reflecting an inherent freshness and youthfulness. A person who is inwardly fresh and vibrant exudes their own color, rather than having it externally imposed. Mowlana further elucidates this point with the analogy, "a tied-on branch did not become a real ʿarjun (bent branch)." A branch tied to a tree from the outside will never take the place of its real branch and become an authentic ʿarjun (the old, bent palm branch mentioned in Quran, Surah Ya-Sin: "And the moon, We have ordained for it phases until it returns like the old curved date-stalk"). This illustrates that borrowed things do not become part of one's essence.

These claimants must remember that, "Eventually, when the cloak of death descends upon you, these borrowings will fall away from your face." In that final moment, when death settles upon a person like a garment, all these borrowed and attached elements will fall away. The only thing that remains with us, becoming "part of our soul" (juzw-i jān), is not worldly possessions, which stay as we depart, but the "love of possessions" (ḥubb-i māl) that accompanies us. Not children, who remain behind, but the "love of children" that has settled in the soul. The virtues ingrained in a person's soul through good deeds are our true capital; all else is "borrowed" (barbaste), not truly ours, and will be among the inheritances left behind.

Mowlana reminds us that a day of "hasty departure" (khīzkhīzān-i raḥīl) will arrive, and all "arts of disputation" (funūn-i qīl-o qāl) will vanish. In that "world of silence" (ʿālam-i khāmūshī), where there is no opportunity for boasting and no audience for it, woe to him who possesses no inner intimacy (uns) with himself. Woe to him who finds no inner garden for solace in his soul, who sees himself alone in a parched and burning desert. Mowlana speaks with deep sorrow of these "prattlers, babblers, and word-mongers" who have filled the market of faith, selling their worthless wares and misrepresenting themselves. He warns us that instead of such self-promotion and pretense of knowledge and piety, we should "polish the chest for a day or two / and make that mirror your own book." The chest must be polished and white as snow, so that truths may be reflected in it, rather than being cluttered with the disputes of books. This call to introspection and self-purification is the key to escaping the trap of such spiritual thefts.

Key takeaways

• Borrowed spirituality and outward pretensions are worthless, ultimately crumbling away.
• Only what genuinely emanates from within and becomes part of the soul is lasting and true, not what is stolen and artificially attached from outside.
• Death acts as the arbiter, separating truth from pretense; only inner intimacy (uns) accumulated within remains with us.
• In the "world of silence" after death, our sole true capital is inner purity and intrinsic companionship, not external disputations.