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Pir Zias kommentar:
It is an important point in spiritual chivalry to look out for those needing help and to be of service without strings attached. Serving the needy—gharib meaning the poor, the outcast, the needy—is fundamental to the Sufi path. Nawaz means to support, nourish, care for. Gharib Nawaz is the friend of the friendless, the friend of the outcast. There is no greater title. Nothing is more important.
At the khanqah of Shaykh Nizam al-Din Awliya in Delhi, any gifts that were received were distributed to people in need, usually by the end of the same day. One night the Shaykh tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Going down to the kitchen and opening the cupboard he found a bag of rice. He instructed that it be distributed forthwith so that he could sleep with peace of mind.
A farmer came to the khanqah, traveling a very long way after his crops had failed in a drought, hoping that the Shaykh might help him. When he arrived, he was told that nothing had come in that day and so there was nothing to give to him. Shaykh Nizam al-Din expressed his love and sympathy but had nothing to give him but the sandals from his own feet, which been given to him by his murshid, Shaykh Farid al-Din Ganj-i Shakar, who had in turn received them from his murshid, Shaykh Qutb al-Din Mas‘ud Bakhtiyar Kaki. Disappointed, the farmer took the sandals and began to make the long journey back home. On the way he found himself in a caravanserai watching as another caravan came along from the opposite direction. One of those traveling in that caravan was Amir Khusraw, whom Shaykh Nizam al-Din fondly called “Turk Allah” because of his Turkish background. When he saw the farmer he said that he noticed he was coming from Delhi and asked if he had seen the great Shaykh Nizam al-Din. The farmer told him that he had implored for help but that all that was given to him was a pair of used sandals. Khusraw’s eyes lit up when he saw them. He said, “Give me those sandals and take this,” thrusting into the hands of the astonished farmer the large personal fortune he happened to be carrying with him. Then Khusraw triumphantly put the sandals on his head and walked to Delhi. When Shaykh Nizam al-Din saw him approaching, he asked “How much did you pay for those sandals, Turk Allah?” Khusraw answered, “Everything I own.” The Shaykh replied, “You got a good bargain!”
One aspect of a pledge is that it can overcome hesitations that otherwise prevent us from getting involved. For instance, we might feel that we have to keep our distance from the needy for fear of falling into need ourselves. We can easily sympathize from afar, but we fear the “contamination” of misfortune. The pledge to extend help willingly reminds us to recognize the fragility of a human condition. Fortunes rise and fall, and no one is immune to the vicissitudes of fate. We are all in this together, sharing in the life of an indivisibly single world. The notion that we have a greater right to comfort and security than others is a questionable proposition. Ultimately, our personal happiness is contingent on the happiness of the whole. By serving others, we serve ourselves. Psychological studies have shown that those who dedicate time to social service are the happiest people in the world. True happiness is synonymous with sympathy and service.
In sharing these teachings we give voice to an ideal that we all know and share, and in undertaking a pledge of this kind together we make the ideal more living. To hear and respond to a need is to humbly seek to uplift the one who is in need toward a new hope. It requires balance and wisdom not to succumb to hopelessness and despair when we open our ears to the cry of humanity. We can each only do our own little part, and leave the results to the One.