M6:3899 — نوبت ما شد چه خیره‌سر شدیم / چون زنان زشت در چادر شدیم

Translation: When our turn came, why did we become so obstinate? / Like ugly women, we hid ourselves in veils. Meaning: This verse admonishes preachers and scholars: when it is their turn to embody their own teachings, they stubbornly refuse, concealing their lack of practice behind their words, much like plain women hide their faces.

Mowlana, in this verse, addresses with strong reproof those scholars who preach but do not practice, and those preachers who fail to preach to themselves. I have repeatedly emphasized that Mowlana consistently detests hypocrisy and duplicity in the Masnavi; wherever he detects a trace of these traits, he swiftly unleashes the sword of his tongue. Here, he likens this group to ugly women who completely conceal themselves in a chādor (veil) to hide their imperfections, whereas beautiful women might occasionally reveal a glimpse of their charm. This simile is a bitter metaphor for concealing inner weaknesses and moral flaws behind a veil of words and empty theorizing.

Mowlana extends this address, directing it towards the listener and even towards himself: "O heart, that warmed everyone, / Warm yourself, and be ashamed of yourself." Or, "O tongue, that advised everyone, / Your turn has come, why do you fall silent?" This self-interrogation indicates that Mowlana's critique is not merely directed at others, but is an invitation to self-knowledge and self-reflection. This point is further illustrated by the anecdote of Sultan Mahmud and the thieves. There, Sultan Mahmud, disguised, tells the thieves that his skill is to "shake his beard" and free many lives, implying that one must demonstrate one's true ability and skill at the moment of action, rather than merely speaking about it. "Shake your beard" means: now it is your turn; reveal your art, do not conceal it.

This notion of 'weaving' (bāfandegi) often reminds me of the late Dr. Seyyed Ja'far Shahidi, who would label the grand but ultimately fruitless theories of some philosophers and mystics as 'weaving.' Mowlana, too, critiques such unproductive 'weaving' here. He says: "What you have woven thoughtfully for fifty years, / From that fabric, make a wide cloak for yourself." Meaning, you have spent so much of your life theorizing and discoursing, but what fruit has this 'fabric' yielded for you personally? Have you been able to sew a garment for yourself from this 'fabric'? This echoes the common proverb: "You grazed so much, where's your fat?" What is the practical outcome of all this knowledge and rhetoric? If you have not benefited yourself, if you have lost yourself in the process, what value does it hold?

Mowlana's central message in these verses is the profound link between knowledge and practice, culminating in self-knowledge. "The essence of all knowledge is this: / That you know who I am on Judgment Day." If you know all sciences and guide others, but do not know yourself and lose your own way, you have truly lost everything. This verse is an invitation to shed the veil of pretense and enter the arena of action and self-improvement.

Key takeaways

• Mowlana criticizes hypocritical preachers who conceal their inner weaknesses with words.
• The simile of "ugly women in veils" signifies hiding one's lack of practice and hypocrisy.
• When it's time for action, one must display true skill and insight, not merely speak of it.
• Theoretical and philosophical 'weaving' is fruitless if it doesn't lead to practical action and self-improvement.
• The essence of all knowledge is self-knowledge; one must not lose oneself in the clamor of advising others.