Three Hermits in a Forest
By Professor Dr Nazeer Ahmed
Concord, CA
The students sat in a semicircle in the courtyard of the mosque after the fajr prayer, waiting for their sheikh. It was a beautiful morning. Pigeons cooed and hopped around the balustrades of the ancient structure. The shimming light of the sun reflected off the wadu (ablution) pond in the middle of the courtyard. At last the sheikh arrived, his spotless, long white jalaba almost touching the ground, his white turban positioned just slightly to the back of his head to reveal his large forehead. He walked in slow, measured steps, his intense bright gaze riveted on the space in front of him, as if he was surveying the space for his next prayer. He greeted the students with a humble “assalamu alaikum” and took his seat on a cushion at the apex of the semicircle, a seat that was always reserved for him.
“Bismillahir Rahman ir Rahim”, began the sheikh. “Knowledge is like the flame in a fireplace. The more you fan the flame, the bigger and brighter it gets. Do not block fresh air from the fire. Without oxygen, the flame will die out. Do not be smug in your knowledge. Learn from whoever has something to teach you. Keep the flame of knowledge glowing with continuous learning.
“There once lived three hermits by a river bank in a forest”, continued the sheikh. Long years of isolation from the outside world had made them smug in their knowledge.
One day they saw a light, far away on a hill on the other side of the river. It was a bright, flickering light, like a beacon for the boats that plied the river. Curious to know where the light came from, the hermits decided to rent a boat, cross the river and trek up the hill to the source of the light.
The men were in a hurry. They wanted to cross the river as fast as they could. However, each hermit had his own idea about how to go about doing it.
“The most important consideration in rowing is the design of the oars”, declared one of the hermits with an assumed air of authority. “We must select the oars with the best design”.
“I respectfully disagree with you, sire”, said the second hermit. “We must choose the right current in the water to minimize drag”.
“My opinion is different,” said the third one. “The direction of the wind is the crucial factor. We must so position the boat that it catches the most favorable wind”.
Each hermit held fast to his position and the arguments got heated. They continued arguing for long hours until nightfall descended on them. They were shrouded in the thick darkness of the forest night and they could see no more.
Realizing that they had missed the daylight, the hermits agreed to get in the boat and row as hard as they could so that they could reach the other shore before midnight.
They put the oars to the water and started to row…one, two, one, two, one two. They rowed and rowed for long hours. Perspiration flowed down from their foreheads and wetted their beards. But hard they as worked, the other shore was nowhere in sight.
At last the darkness of the night lifted and the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon. The exhausted men paused, looked around and realized that the boat had not moved at all from where it was anchored.
They got out of the boat, one by one, to assess what had happened. Each one thought that his scholarly credentials would reveal why the boat had not budged one inch despite the determined efforts of three men of knowledge.
The first hermit examined the oars to make sure they were not defective. The second waded into the river to feel the current. The third held aloft a piece of cloth to sense the direction of the wind.
And so they spent a long time, each one determined to validate his position. At long last, exasperated, they congregated on the shore and took a look at the anchor.
“We forgot to unchain the boat”, exclaimed one of the hermits, as if he had made a startling discovery. The other two checked the anchor and nodded their heads in agreement.
And so it was. The hermits in their isolation had become egotistical. Their egos had put a veil over their reasoning. Drunk with the haughtiness of their ingrown knowledge, they were unable to think outside of their own closed circles.
“O my students,” concluded the sheikh, “Unchain your boat before you row. Seek knowledge with an open mind. A pot must be empty before you pour milk into it. A mirror must be free of dust before it reflects light. A mind must be receptive before it receives knowledge. Clear the space in your heart of all clutter before you welcome the King. Go to knowledge no matter where you find it, be it in the depths of your soul (the first Sirr) or on the horizons, in the far corners of the earth. This is the inner meaning of the Hadith, 'Seek knowledge even if you have to go to China ' ”.
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