The Tale of the Wise King

The tale of that wise and aware king who decreed that whoever took up his ministry would, after one year, be dismissed: one of his hands would be cut off and thrown away, and whoever caught the severed hand would receive the office of minister. I have heard that in ancient times there was a king, both learned and wise. A seeker of justice, a spreader of fairness, a man of reason who cared for his people. He was so skilled in ordering the kingdom that his judgment steered the ship of state through the storms of sorrow. His sound management gave this command: he laid down a law in the foundation of his realm. That whoever took up the ministry would, after one year, be removed from his post. When he reached the end of his first year, the king's order came to sever his hand. Do not say this is an ugly thing. What did he steal, that they should cut off his hand? Surely some wisdom lay hidden in this; the deeds of kings are never without the rule of reason. Though this is beyond the grasp of ordinary minds, the book of secrets is not a beginner's copybook. Yet I will let you taste a hint, and unfold for you a subtle meaning fit for you. Since this king cares so deeply for his people, only a minister like himself is worthy of him. He keeps seeking order for the kingdom; he keeps walking the path of justice and fairness. He does not want a self-serving minister, one drunk on the wine of power. So when, by hypocrisy, some stranger to trust finds his way for a moment into the sanctuary of the realm, how could a just king be careless of him? God forbid he make a thief a governor. Yet for one year he grants him a reprieve; for the sake of a test, he gives him a seat of honor. When that demon sees that he has gained rank, that he has found a path to the throne of power, a thief who has become a watchman, a reckless wolf who has become a shepherd, then, after the reprieve of the testing year, that king says: 'Strike off all his fingers.' He is a highwayman and a thief; make him handless. Make him a lesson for the drunken thieves. What is theft? To carry off the people's goods, or to deck yourself with false glory through deceit? Glory befits the people of truth; it is not for the self-loving fool. Honor belongs to God: look in the Quran. It belongs also to the Prophet and the faithful. That thief is no less than a thief of wealth; whoever claims false honor is a robber, a highwayman. This ministry, for him, is only for rank and riches, only to satisfy his anger and lust. How does this honor suit the unworthy? No one but God's friend deserves leadership. Since he claimed it falsely for himself, he is a thieving robber, and his sentence is to have his hand cut from his body. On the road of love of power, this cheat has cut off his spiritual hand from any true deed. He has a hand, but it has fallen idle; it moves, but for the stranger, not for the friend. He has eyes, but they do not see; he has ears, but he hears nothing. And likewise all the limbs of his body have risen up to serve the stranger. Who is this stranger? It is the highwayman self; union with it means cutting yourself off from God. Since he set himself apart from God, his spiritual hand was severed from God. And just as his spiritual hand is severed, it is fitting that his physical hand be cut from his body. For God's sake, for God's sake, do not ruin yourself; do not make the face of your heart ugly and barren. How long will you keep saying, 'Look, I am the minister! Look, I am the deputy of that pole and elder!' The just king sits in ambush; he has girded on the sword of justice. When the span of your life comes to its end, the order to cut off your hand will be issued. What is the cutting of the hand? It is the secret of subduing desire; his blade is the sword that cuts pleasures and cravings. You cut yourself off from him: woe to your state! The sparks of separation will burn your wings. Enough of this breath, for the hour of dawn has come; the time of secrets has arrived, so pass beyond this moment. Though this is only a little from our harvest, and barely one in a hundred of the king's hidden meanings, we are not permitted more than this, though nothing is hidden from the people of the heart. So I will lay a few veils over his face, and turn my swift horse back toward the story, so that, behind the veil, the king's secret stays protected, and the hand of the unworthy is kept short of it. For now, listen to the song of the night bird, who has come into melody and rapture.