M6:1759 — گفت شو من نفقه چاره می‌کنم / گرچه عورم دست و پایی می‌زنم

Translation: Said the husband, "Go, I will manage the sustenance _Though I am naked, I exert myself with hands and feet." Meaning: This verse is spoken by a poor husband responding to his wife's complaints about their indigence, asserting that despite his nakedness and poverty, he is striving to provide. Rumi uses this as an allegory to illustrate the preference for enduring minor worldly hardships to avoid the greater suffering of separation from the Divine.

This verse is uttered within an allegorical tale about a wife complaining of poverty to her dervish husband. The husband, despite admitting to his destitution and his 'nakedness,' assures her that he is 'struggling with hands and feet' to provide sustenance. This, however, is merely a prelude to a far grander lesson in the Masnavi. Rumi employs this parable of marital hardship in bygone eras to bridge to the arduous journey of the spiritual seeker and the suffering they must endure on their path.

The wife protests by showing her coarse, dirty garment, asking if such attire is fitting. The dervish husband's response is the crux of the matter: 'Is this (coarse garment) worse, or divorce itself? Is this more undesirable for you, or separation?' This comparison highlights the choice between a lesser hardship (inappropriate clothing, poverty) and a greater, more devastating one (separation, divorce). Through this device, Rumi teaches us the wisdom of embracing minor pains to avert more profound sufferings.

He then elevates this analogy to the realm of mystical striving, addressing the 'complaining seeker': 'Indeed, abandoning desires and passions is bitter, but this bitterness is preferable to being distant from God (baʿd-i Ḥaqq).' Similarly, if jihad and fasting are 'hard and harsh,' they are still better than estrangement from the 'Tester,' meaning God. All the hardships we endure on the path of faith and devotion – from giving charity and struggling against the self to jihad and fasting – are akin to that coarse garment, to be borne so that we may not succumb to the lethal separation from the Divine. This resonates with the idea that 'the prey is near, yet you shoot far'; pains are messengers that guide us to 'self-knowledge' and, ultimately, to 'attainment and certitude,' rather than being ends in themselves.

Rumi elevates this concept to its spiritual zenith, asking: 'When would suffering remain, the moment the Lord of Grace (Dhul-Minan) says to you, 'How are you, my suffering one?'' This implies that a single compassionate word from the Beloved can wipe away all sorrows and injustices. This is the very 'glance' that Hafez suggests 'makes up for a hundred injustices.' Even if this explicit inquiry from the Eternal Beloved does not reach us directly – for we lack the 'fahm va fan' (understanding and skill) to perceive it – the very 'delight in inquiry' that arises in the seeker's heart is itself God's way of asking after us. The lover's heart is never unaware of the Beloved, even if the Beloved, to guard against 'shame and repute,' sends a secret, confidential message. This message never fails to reach the heart; the true Beloved never abandons His lover, even if His presence is veiled.

Key takeaways

• Enduring minor hardships to avert greater ones is a fundamental principle in spiritual discipline.
• Separation from God (baʿd-i Ḥaqq) is the bitterest and most devastating suffering, incomparable to any other worldly pain.
• God is the 'Tester' (Mumtaḥin), and sufferings are the crucible for purifying the soul and a means for self-knowledge.
• Divine compassion, even in a simple inquiry like 'How are you, my suffering one?', can erase all bitterness and wounds of the soul.
• Even if our perception of overt divine inquiry is incomplete, the 'delight in inquiry' within us is itself a manifestation of divine attention.
• The true Beloved is never unaware of the lover, even if the message is hidden or indirect.