The Forty Rules of Love: a novel of Rumi

“Each and every reader comprehends the Holy Qur’an on a different level in tandem with the depth
of his understanding. There are four levels of insight. The first level is the outer meaning and it is the
one that the majority of the people are content with. Next is the Batm—the inner level. Third, there is
the inner of the inner. And the fourth level is so deep it cannot be put into words and is therefore
bound to remain indescribable.”
With glinting eyes Shams continued. “Scholars who focus on the sharia know the outer meaning. Sufis
know the inner meaning. Saints know the inner of the inner. And as for the fourth level, that is known only
by prophets and those closest to God.”
“Are you telling me that an ordinary Sufi has a deeper grasp of the Qur’an than a sharia scholar?” the
judge asked as he tapped his fingers on the bowl.
A subtle, sardonic smile curved the dervish’s mouth, but he didn’t answer.
“Be careful, my friend,” the judge said. “There is a thin line between where you stand and sheer
blasphemy.”
If there was a threat in these words, the dervish seemed not to have noticed it. “What exactly is ‘sheer
blasphemy’?” he asked, and then with a sharp intake of breath he added, “Allow me to tell you a story.”
And here is what he told us:
One day Moses was walking in the mountains on his own when he saw a shepherd in the distance.
The man was on his knees with his hands spread out to the sky, praying. Moses was delighted. But
when he got closer, he was equally stunned to hear the shepherd’s prayer.
“Oh, my beloved God, I love Thee more than Thou can know. I will do anything for Thee, just say
the word. Even if Thou asked me to slaughter the fattest sheep in my flock in Thy name, I would do so
without hesitation. Thou would roast it and put its tail fat in Thy rice to make it more tasty.”
Moses inched toward the shepherd, listening attentively.
“Afterward I would wash Thy feet and clean Thine ears and pick Thy lice for Thee. That is how

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much I love Thee.”
Having heard enough, Moses interrupted the shepherd, yelling, “Stop, you ignorant man! What do
you think you are doing? Do you think God eats rice? Do you think God has feet for you to wash? This
is not prayer. It is sheer blasphemy.”
Dazed and ashamed, the shepherd apologized repeatedly and promised to pray as decent people did.
Moses taught him several prayers that afternoon. Then he went on his way, utterly pleased with
himself.
But that night Moses heard a voice. It was God’s.
“Oh, Moses, what have you done? You scolded that poor shepherd and failed to realize how dear he
was to Me. He might not be saying the right things in the right way, but he was sincere. His heart was
pure and his intentions good. I was pleased with him. His words might have been blasphemy to your
ears, but to Me they were sweet blasphemy.”
Moses immediately understood his mistake. The next day, early in the morning, he went back to the
mountains to see the shepherd. He found him praying again, except this time he was praying in the way
he had been instructed. In his determination to get the prayer right, he was stammering, bereft of the
excitement and passion of his earlier prayer. Regretting what he had done to him, Moses patted the
shepherd’s back and said: “My friend, I was wrong. Please forgive me. Keep praying in your own way.
That is more precious in God’s eyes.”
The shepherd was astonished to hear this, but even deeper was his relief. Nevertheless, he did not
want to go back to his old prayers. Neither did he abide by the formal prayers that Moses had taught
him. He had now found a new way of communicating with God. Though satisfied and blessed in his
naïve devotion, he was now past that stage—beyond his sweet blasphemy.
“So you see, don’t judge the way other people connect to God,” concluded Shams. “To each his own
way and his own prayer. God does not take us at our word. He looks deep into our hearts. It is not the
ceremonies or rituals that make a difference, but whether our hearts are sufficiently pure or not.”
I checked the judge’s face. I could see beneath his mask of absolute confidence and composure that he
was clearly annoyed. Yet at the same time, being the astute man that he was, he had detected a tricky
situation. If he reacted to Shams’s story, he would have to take the next step and punish him for his
insolence, in which case things would get serious and everybody would hear that a simple dervish had
dared to confront the high judge. It was therefore better for him to pretend there was nothing to be upset
about and leave it there.
Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky a dozen shades of crimson, punctuated now and again by
dark gray clouds. In a little while, the judge rose to his feet, saying he had some important business to
attend to. After giving me a slight nod and Shams of Tabriz a cold stare, he strode off. His men followed
wordlessly.
“I am afraid the judge didn’t like you much,” I said when everyone had left.
Shams of Tabriz brushed his hair from his face, smiling. “Oh, that is quite all right. I am used to people
not liking me much.”
I couldn’t help feeling excited. I had been the master of this lodge long enough to know that it was not
often such a visitor came.
“Tell me, dervish,” I said, “what brings someone like you to Baghdad?”
I was eager to hear his answer but also strangely fearful of it.

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