I once found a unique looking book in a second hand bookstore which was in a church in a remote part of Devon. The book was called, ‘Tales from Afghanistan’. Along the way, the main character hears many stories. This is one of them:
The first question dealt with the fact that since only the Teacher knew what would benefit the learner how could anyone ask a constructive question at all? The student might have to wait perhaps even years until circumstances were such that the teacher could help him towards illumination. what did the Haji have to say about that?
The answer was in the form of a tale which was first recited and then interpreted by one of the people present so that that the understanding could be shared and then become common property.
This was the tale:
Nusruddin was one day passing a house where a feast was in progress. When he tried to enter he was turned back.
The doorkeeper kept saying that he had to have a letter from the local judge if he wanted to take part in the meal.
Realising that this might take too long and that, in any case, he might not get it, he hurried to the nearby bazaar.
There he obtained a paper and an envelope.
He put the paper into the envelope and addressed it to the master of the feast
When he showed it to the doorkeeper he was at once admitted. The host, seeing the name on the envelope and above it written “From the judge” placed it respectfully to one side while he personally attended to the needs of Nasruddin.
He gave him sweet sherbet, piled on his plate Pilau Rice and called the attendants to fan the portly mullah.
Only after an hour or so when the mullah was almost bursting with food did the grandee turn to the letter. Opening the envelope he said, “Respected mullah, the Judge seems to have made mistake. There is nothing written on this paper.”
“Oh that’s right,” answered Nasruddin, “If I had gone through all the motions of applying for a letter from the Judge I would have missed the meal.”
Asked, by signal, to interpret this, one of the people present explained:
In a similar way, the teacher instructs us. He does not wait until something in us is ready to accept what he says, because this will enable the refractory self to prevent him doing any good to us. Just as the mullah was greedy for food, so the teacher is obliged to teach, and while he may appear to be forcing himself upon us by what he says, and how he says it, in reality he is helping us.
I asked “but in the tale the mullah is devious and greedy; is this a respectable way of putting the whole question?”
The man smiled “I can see that you have been under the influence of the theologian and hypocrite, who claims that he has teaching and also that everything is good which only seems good. In fact the world is so arranged that many things which annoy people are the best thing for them. Remember in the eyes of the ignorant and the stupid good things can appear bad. So in portraying the mullah as devious and greedy, we are in fact enabling you to look at the truth as seen by those who are themselves warped.
Now someone asked about the limitations of materials used in higher teaching. “If we listen to people who may have little real knowledge but can bring us teachings which they have only heard or read, is this not itself better than nothing? Can good words ever be bad for us?”
The Haji recited this anecdote in answer:
Once upon a time the mullah was invited to a meal where among other things he was served with baked sesame seeds in oil and honey. He was delighted with these and as he was leaving he asked his host, “How do you grow these wonderful seeds?”
The other man replied, “Oh it is quite easy. Providing you start with the right seeds, all you have to do is sow them in the usual way.”
Nursruddin went away and the next day he bought some fried seeds in the bazaar and planted them in his garden.
Nothing came up, much to the amusement of all around him he had informed. Time and again however the mullah insisted that they were in the ground and were bound to sprout.
Months later, when visiting the same man again, Nasruddin learned that he should’ve taken fresh, not cooked, seeds.
“It is typical of some people” he grumbled, “to hold back part of the secret …”
(Louis Palmer listening to a lecture by a scholar in Afghanistan. From Adventures in Afghanistan by Louis Palmer)