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A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook Title: Spirits Rebellious Author: Kahlil Gibran eBook No.: 0500621h.html Edition: 1 Language: English Character set encoding: HTML--Latin-1(ISO-8859-1)--8 bit Date first posted: June 2005 Date most recently updated: June 2005 This eBook was produced by: Stuart kidd Production notes: Original file Courtesy of Kahlil Gibran Online - www.kahlil.org Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular paper edition. Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this file. This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online at http://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html To contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.au
CONTENTS
MADAME ROSE HANIE
THE CRY OF THE GRAVES
KHALIL THE HERETIC
Part One
Miserable is the man who loves a woman and takes her for a wife,
pouring at her feet the sweat of his skin and the blood of his body
and the life of his heart, and placing in her hands the fruit of
his toil and the revenue of hi s diligence; for when he slowly
wakes up, he finds that the heart, which he endeavoured to buy, is
given freely and in sincerity to another man for the enjoyment of
its hidden secrets and deepest love. Miserable is the woman who
arises from the inattentiveness and restlessness of youth and finds
herself in the home of a man showering her with his glittering gold
and precious gifts and according her all the honours and grace of
lavish entertainment but unable to satisfy her soul with the
heavenly wine which God pours from the eyes of a man into the heart
of a woman.
I knew Rashid Bey Namaan since I was a youngster; he was a
Lebanese, born and reared in the City of Beyrouth. Being a member
of an old and rich family which preserved the tradition and glory
of his ancestry, Rashid was fond of citing incidents that dealt
mainly with the nobility of his forefathers. In his routine life he
followed their beliefs and customs which, at that time, prevailed
in the Middle East.
Rashid Bey Namaan was generous and good-hearted, but like many of
the Syrians, looked only at the superficial things instead of
reality. He never hearkened to the dictates of his heart, but
busied himself in obeying the voices of his environment. H e amused
himself with shimmering objects that blinded his eyes and heart to
life’s secrets; his soul was diverted away from an
understanding of the law of nature, and to a temporary
self-gratification. He was one of those men who hastened to confess
their love or disgust to the people, then regretted their
impulsiveness when it was too late for recall. And then shame and
ridicule befell them, instead of pardon or sanction.
These are the characteristics that prompted Rashid Bey Namaan to
marry Rose Hanie far before her soul embraced his soul in the
shadow of the true love that makes union a paradise.
After a few years of absence, I returned to the City of Beyrouth.
As I went to visit Rashid Bey Namaan, I found him pale and thin. On
his face one could see the spectre of bitter disappointment; his
sorrowful eyes bespoke his crushed heart and melancholy soul. I was
curious to find the cause for his miserable plight; however, I did
not hesitate to ask for explanation and said, “What became of
you, Rashid? Where is the radiant smile and the happy countenance
that accompanied you since childhood? H as death taken away from
you a dear friend? Or have the black nights stolen from you the
gold you have amassed during the white days? In the name of
friendship, tell me what is causing this sadness of heart and
weakness of body?”
He looked at me ruefully, as if I had revived to him some secluded
images of beautiful days. With a distressed and faltering voice he
responded, “When a person loses a friend, he consoles himself
with the many other friends about him, and if he loses his gold, he
meditates for a while and casts misfortune from his mind,
especially when he finds himself healthy and still laden with
ambition. But when a man loses the ease of his heart, where can he
find comfort, and with what can he replace it? What mind can master
it? When death strikes close by, you will suffer. But when the day
and the night pass, you will feel the smooth touch of the soft
fingers of Life; then you will smile and rejoice.
“Destiny comes suddenly, bringing concern; she stares at you
with horrible eyes and clutches you at the throat with sharp
fingers and hurls you to the ground and tramples upon you with
ironclad feet; then she laughs and walks away, but later regrets
her actions and asks you through good fortune to forgive her. She
stretches her silky hand and lifts you high and sings to you the
Song of Hope and causes you to lose your cares. She creates in you
a new zest for confidence and ambition. If your lot in life is a
beautiful bird that you love dearly, you gladly feed to him the
seeds of your inner self, and make your heart his cage and your
soul his nest. But while you are affectionately admiring him and
looking upon him with the eyes of love, he escapes from your hands
and flies very high; then he descends and enters into another cage
and never comes back to you. What can you do? Where can you find
patience and condolence? How can you revive your hopes and dreams?
What power can still your turbulent heart?”
Having uttered these words with a choking voice and suffering
spirit, Rashid Bey Namaan stood shaking like a reed between the
north and south wind. He extended his hands as if to grasp
something with his bent fingers and destroy it. His wrinkled face
was livid, his eyes grew larger as he stared a few moments, and it
seemed to him as if he saw a demon appearing from non-existence to
take him away; then he fixed his eyes on mine and his appearance
suddenly changed; his anger was converted into keen suffering and
distress, and he cried out saying, “It is the woman whom I
rescued from between the deathly paws of poverty; I opened my
coffers to her and made her envied by all women for the beautiful
raiment and precious gems and magnificent carriages drawn by
spirited horses; the woman whom my heart has loved and at whose
feet I poured affection; the woman, to whom I was a true friend,
sincere companion and a faithful husband; The woman who betrayed me
and departed me for another man to share with him destitution and
partake his evil bread, kneaded with shame and mixed with disgrace.
The woman I loved; the beautiful bird whom I fed, and to whom I
made my heart a cage and my soul a nest, has escaped from my hands
and entered into another cage; that pure an gel, who resided in the
paradise of my affection and love, now appears to me as a horrible
demon, descended into the darkness to suffer for her sin and cause
me to suffer on earth for her crime.”
He hid his face with his hands as if wanting to protect himself
from himself, and became silent for a moment. Then he sighed and
said, “This is all I can tell you; please do not ask anything
further. Do not make a crying voice of my calamity, but le t it
rather be mute misfortune; perhaps it will grow in silence and
deaden me away so that I may rest at last with peace.”
I rose with tears in my eyes and mercy in my heart, and silently
bade him goodbye; my words had no power to console his wounded
heart, and my knowledge had no torch to illuminate his gloomy
self.
Part Two
A few days thereafter I met Madame Rose Hanie for the first time,
in a poor hovel, surrounded by flowers and trees. She had heard of
me through Rashid Bey Namaan, the man whose heart she had crushed
and stamped upon and left under the terrible hoofs of Life. As I
looked at her beautiful bright eyes, and heard her sincere voice, I
said to myself, “Can this be the sordid woman? Can this clear
face hide an ugly soul and a criminal heart? Is this the unfaithful
wife? Is this the woman of whom I have spoken evil and imagined as
a serpent disguised in the form of a beautiful bird?” Then I
whispered again to myself saying, “Is it this beautiful face
that made Rashid Bey Namaan miserable? Haven’t we heard that
obvious beauty is the cause of many hidden distresses and deep
suffering? Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires the poets, the
same moon that angers the silence of the sea with a terrible
roar?”
As we seated ourselves, Madame Rose Hanie seemed to have heard and
read my thoughts and wanted not to prolong my doubts. She leaned
her beautiful head upon her hands and with a voice sweeter than the
sound of the lyre, she said, “I have never met you, but I
heard the echoes of your thoughts and dreams from the mouths of the
people, and they convinced me that you are merciful and have
understanding for the oppressed woman – the woman whose
heart’s secrets you have discovered and whose affections you
have known. Allow me to reveal to you the full contents of my heart
so you may know that Rose Hanie never was an unfaithful woman.
“I was scarcely eighteen years of age when fate led me to
Rashid Bey Namaan, who was then forty years old. He fell in love
with me, according to what the people say, and took me for a wife
and put me in his magnificent home, placing at my disposal clothes
and precious gems. He exhibited me as a strange rarity at the homes
of his friends and family; he smiled with triumph when he saw his
contemporaries looking at me with surprise and admiration; he
lifted his chin high with pride when he heard the ladies speak of
me with praise and affection. But never could he hear the whispers,
‘Is this the wife of Rashid Bey Namaan, or his adopted
daughter?’ And another one commenting, ‘If he had
married at the proper age, his first born would have been older
than Rose Hanie.’
“All that happened before my life had awakened from the deep
swoon of youth, and before God inflamed my heart with the torch of
love, and before the growth of the seeds of my affections. Yes, all
this transpired during the time when I believed that real happiness
came through beautiful clothes and magnificent mansions. When I
woke up from the slumber of childhood, I felt the flames of sacred
fire burning in my heart, and a spiritual hunger gnawing at my
soul, making it suffer. When I opened my eyes, I found my wings
moving to the right and left, trying to ascend into the spacious
firmament of love, but shivering and dropping under the gusts of
the shackles of laws that bound my body to a man before I knew the
true meaning of that law. I felt all these things and knew that a
woman’s happiness does not come through man’s glory and
honour, nor through his generosity and affection, but through love
that unites both of their hearts and affections, making them one
member of life’s body and one word upon the lips of God. When
Truth showed herself to me, I found myself imprisoned by law in the
mansion of Rashid Bey Namaan, like a thief stealing his bread and
hiding in the dark and friendly corners of the night. I knew that
every hour spent with him was a terrible lie written upon my
forehead with letters of fire before heaven and earth. I could not
give him my love and affection in reward for his generosity and
sincerity. I tried in vain to love him, but love is a power that
makes our hearts, yet our hearts cannot make that power. I prayed
and prayed in the silence of the night before God to create in the
depths of my heart a spiritual attachment that would carry me
closer to the man who had been chosen for me as a companion through
life.
“My prayers were not granted, because Love descends upon our
souls by the will of God and not by the demand or the plea of the
individual. Thus I remained for two years in the home of that man,
envying the birds of the field their freedom while my friends
envied me my painful chains of gold. I was like a woman who is torn
from her only child; like a lamenting heart, existing without
attachment; like an innocent victim of the severity of human law. I
was close to death from spiritual thirst and hunger.
“One dark day, as I looked behind the heavy skies, I saw a
gentle light pouring from the eyes of a man who was walking
forlornly on the path of life; I closed my eyes to that light and
said to myself, ‘Oh, my soul, darkness of the grave is thy
lot, do not be greedy for the light.’ Then I heard a
beautiful melody from heaven that revived my wounded heart with its
purity, but I closed my ears and said, ‘Oh, my soul, the cry
of the abyss is thy lot, do not be greedy for heavenly
songs.’ I closed my eyes again so I could not see, and shut
my ears so I could not hear, but my closed eyes still saw that
gentle light, and my ears still heard that divine sound. I was
frightened for the first time and felt like the beggar who found a
precious jewel near the Emir’s palace and could not pick it
up on account of fear, or leave it because of poverty. I cried
– a cry of a thirsty soul who sees a brook surrounded by wild
beasts, and falls upon the ground waiting and watching
fearfully.”
Then she turned her eyes away from me as if she remembered the past
that made her ashamed to face me, but she continued, “Those
people who go to back to eternity before they taste the sweetness
of real life are unable to understand the meaning of a
woman’s suffering. Especially when she devotes her soul to a
man she loves by the will of God, and her body to another whom she
caresses by the enforcement of earthly law. It is a tragedy written
with the blood of the woman’s blood and tears which the man
reads with ridicule because he cannot understand it; yet, if he
does understand, his laughter will turn into scorn and blasphemy
that act like fire upon her heart. It is a drama enacted by the
black nights upon the stage of a woman’s soul, whose body is
tied up into a man, known to her as husband, ere she perceives
God’s meaning of marriage. She finds her soul hovering about
the man whom she adores by all agencies of pure and true love and
beauty. It is a terrible agony that began with the existence of
weakness in a woman and the commencement of strength in a man. It
will not end unless the days of slavery and superiority of the
strong over the weak are abolished. It is a horrible war between
the corrupt law of humanity and the sacred affections and holy
purpose of the heart. In such a battlefield I was lying yesterday,
but I gathered the remnants of my strength, and unchained my irons
of cowardice, and untied my wings from the swaddles of weakness and
arose into the spacious sky of love and freedom.
“Today I am one with the man I love; he and I sprang out as
one torch from the hand of God before the beginning of the world.
There is no power under the sun that can take my happiness from me,
because it emanated from two embraced spirits, engulfed by
understanding, radiated by Love, and protected by
heaven.”
She looked at me as if she wanted to penetrate my heart with her
eyes in order to discover the impression of her words upon me, and
to hear the echo of her voice from within me; but I remained silent
and she continued. Her voice was full of bitterness of memory and
sweetness of sincerity and freedom when she said, “The people
will tell you that Rose Hanie is an heretic and unfaithful woman
who followed her desires by leaving the man who elated her into him
and made her the elegance of his home. They will tell you that she
is an adulteress and prostitute who destroyed with her filthy hands
the wreath of a sacred marriage and replaced it with a besmirched
union woven of the thorns of hell. She took off the garment of
virtue and put on the cloak of sin and disgrace. They will tell you
more than that, because the ghosts of their fathers are still
living in their bodies. They are like the deserted caves of the
mountains that echo voices whose meanings are not understood. They
neither understand the law of God, nor comprehend the true intent
of veritable religion, nor distinguish between a sinner and an
innocent. They look only at the surface of objects without knowing
their secrets. They pass their verdicts with ignorance, and judge
with blindness, making the criminal and the innocent, the good and
the bad, equal. Woe to those who prosecute and judge the people. .
. .
“In God’s eyes I was unfaithful and an adulteress only
while at the home of Rashid Bey Namaan, because he made me his wife
according to the customs and traditions and by the force of haste,
before heaven had made him mine in conformity with the spiritual
law of Love and Affection. I was a sinner in the eyes of God and
myself when I ate his bread and offered him my body in reward for
his generosity. Now I am pure and clean because the law of Love has
freed me and made me honourable and faithful. I ceased selling my
body for shelter and my days for clothes. Yes, I was an adulteress
and a criminal when the people viewed me as the most honourable and
faithful wife; today I am pure and noble in spirit, but in their
opinion I am polluted, for they judge the soul by the outcome of
the body and measure the spirit by the standard of
matter.”
Then she looked through the window and pointed out with her right
hand toward the city as if she had seen the ghost of corruption and
the shadow of shame among its magnificent buildings. She said
pityingly, “Look at those majestic mansions and sublime
palaces where hypocrisy resides; in those edifices and between
their beautifully decorated walls resides Treason beside Putridity;
under the ceiling painted with melted gold lives Falsehood beside
Pretension. Notice those gorgeous homes that represent happiness,
glory and domination; they are naught but caverns of misery and
distress. They are plastered graves in which Treason of the weak
woman hides behind her kohled eyes and crimsoned lips; in their
corners selfishness exists, and the animality of man through his
gold and silver rules supreme.
“If those high and impregnable buildings scented the door of
hatred, deceit and corruption, they would have cracked and fallen.
The poor villager looks upon those residences with tearful eyes,
but when he finds that the hearts of the occupants are empty of
that pure love that exists in the heart of his wife and fills its
domain, he will smile and go back to his fields
contented.”
And then she took hold of my hand and led me to the side of the
window and said, “Come, I will show you the unveiled secrets
of those people whose path I refused to follow. Look at that palace
with giant columns. IN it lives a rich man who inherited his gold
from his father. After having led a life of filth and putrefaction,
he married a woman about whom he knew nothing except that her
father was one of the Sultan’s dignitaries. As soon as the
wedding trip was over he became disgusted and commenced
associations with women who sell their bodies for pieces of silver.
His wife was left alone in that palace like an empty bottle left by
a drunkard. She cried and suffered for the first time; then she
realized that her tears were more precious than her degenerate
husband. Now she is busying herself in the love and devotion of a
young man upon whom she showers her joyous hours, and into whose
heart she pours her sincere love and affection.
“Let me take you now to that gorgeous home surrounded by
beautiful gardens. It is the home of a man who comes from a noble
family which ruled the country for many generations, but whose
standards, wealth, and prestige have declined due to their
indulgence in mad spending and slothfulness. A few years ago this
man married an ugly but rich woman. After he acquired her fortune,
he ignored her completely and commenced devoting himself to an
attractive young woman. His wife today is devoting her time to
curling her hair, painting her lips and perfuming her body. She
wears the most expensive clothes and hopes that some young man will
smile and come to visit her, but it is all in vain, for she cannot
succeed except in receiving a smile from her ugly self in the
mirror.
“Observe that big manor, encircled with the marble statuary;
it is the home of a beautiful woman who possesses strange
character. When her first husband died, she inherited all his money
and estate; then she selected a man with a weak mind and feeble
body and became his wife to protect herself from the evil tongues,
and to use him as a shield for her abominations. She is now among
her admirers like a bee that sucks the sweetest and most delicious
flowers.
That beautiful home next to it was built by the greatest architect
in the province; it belongs to a greedy and substantial man who
devotes all of his time to amassing gold and grinding the faces of
the poor. He has a wife of supernatural beauty, bodily and
spiritually, but she is like the rest, a victim of early marriage.
Her father committed a crime by giving her away to a man before she
attained understanding age, placing on her neck the heavy yoke of
corrupt marriage. She is thin and pale now, and cannot find an
outlet for her imprisoned affection. She is sinking slowly and
craving for death to free her from the mesh of slavery and deliver
her from a man who spends his life gathering gold and cursing the
hour he married a barren woman who could not bring him a child to
carry on his name and inherit his money.
In that home among the orchards lives an ideal poet; he married an
ignorant woman who ridicules his works because she cannot
understand them, and laughs at his conduct because she cannot
adjust herself to his sublime way of life. That poet found freedom
from despair in his love for a married woman who appreciates his
intelligence and inspires him by kindling in his heart the torch of
affections, and revealing to him the most beautiful and eternal
sayings by means of her charm and beauty.”
Silence prevailed for a few moments, and Madame Hanie seated
herself on a sofa by the window as if her soul were tired of
roaming those quarters. Then she slowly continued, “These are
the residences in which I refused to live; these are the graves in
which I, too, was spiritually buried. These people from whom I have
freed myself are the ones who become attracted by the body and
repelled by the spirit, and who know naught of Love and Beauty. The
only mediator between them and God is God’s pity for their
ignorance of the law of God. I cannot judge, for I was one of them,
but I sympathize with all my heart. I do not hate them, but I hate
their surrender to weakness and falsehood. I have said all these
things to show you the reality of the people from whom I have
escaped against their will. I was trying to explain to you the life
of persons who speak every evil against me because I have lost
their friendship and finally gained my own. I emerged from their
dark dungeon and directed my eyes towards the light where
sincerity, truth and justice prevail. They have exiled me now from
their society and I am pleased, because humanity does not exile
except the one whose noble spirit rebels against despotism and
oppression. He who does not prefer exile to slavery is not free by
any measure of freedom, truth and duty.
“Yesterday I was like a tray containing all kinds of
palatable foods, and Rashid Bey Namaan never approached me unless
he felt a need for that food; yet both of our souls remained far
apart from us like two humble, dignified servants. I have tried to
reconcile myself to what people call misfortune, but my spirit
refused to spend all its life kneeling with me before a horrible
idol erected by the dark ages and called LAW. I kept my chains
until I heard Love calling me and saw my spirit preparing to
embark. Then I broke them and walked out from Rashid Bey
Namaan’s home like a bird freed from his iron cage and
leaving behind me all the gems, clothes and servants. I came to
live with my beloved, for I knew that what I was doing was honest.
Heaven does not want me to weep and suffer. Many times at night I
prayed for dawn to come and when dawn came, I prayed for the day to
be over. God does not want me to lead a miserable life, for He
placed in the depths of my heart a desire for happiness; His glory
rests in the happiness of my heart.
“This is my story and this is my protest before heaven and
earth; this is what I sing and repeat while people are closing
their ears for fear of hearing me and leading their spirits into
rebellion that would crumble the foundation of their quavering
society.
“This is the rough pathway I have carved until I reached the
mountain peak of my happiness. Now if death comes to take me away,
I will be more than willing to offer myself before the Supreme
Throne of Heaven without fear or shame. I am ready for the day of
judgment and my heart is white as the snow. I have obeyed the will
of God in everything I have done and followed the call of my heart
while listening to the angelic voice of heaven. This is my drama
which the people of Beyrouth call ‘A curse upon the lips of
life,’ and ‘An ailment in the body of society.’
But one day love will arouse their hearts like the sun rays that
bring forth the flowers even from contaminated earth. One day the
wayfarers will stop by my grave and greet the earth that enfolds my
body and say, ‘Here lies Rose Hanie who freed herself from
the slavery of decayed human laws in order to comply with
God’s law of pure love. She turned her face toward the sun so
she would not see the shadow of her body amongst the skulls and
thorns.’ ”
The door opened and a man entered. His eyes were shining with magic
rays and upon his lips appeared a wholesome smile. Madame Hanie
rose, took the young man’s arm and introduced him to me, then
gave him my name with flattering words. I knew that he was the one
for whose sake she denied the whole world and violated all earthly
laws and customs.
As we sat down, silence controlled. Each one of us was engrossed in
deep thought. One minute worthy of silence and respect had passed
when I looked at the couple sitting side by side. I saw something I
had never seen before, and realized instantly the meaning of Madame
Hanie’s story. I comprehended the secret of her protest
against the society which persecutes those who rebel against
confining laws and customs before determining the cause for the
rebellion. I saw one heavenly spirit before me, composed of two
beautiful and united persons, in the midst of which stood the god
of Love stretching his wings over them to protect them from evil
tongues. I found a complete understanding emanating from two
smiling faces, illuminated by sincerity and surrounded by virtue.
For the first time in my life I found the phantom of happiness
standing between a man and a woman, cursed by religion and opposed
by the law. I rose and bade them goodbye and left that poor hovel
which Affection had erected as an altar to Love and Understanding.
I walked past the buildings which Madame Hanie pointed out to me.
As I reached the end of these quarters I remembered Rashid Bey
Namaan and meditated his miserable plight and said to myself,
“He is oppressed; will heaven ever listen to him if he
complains about Madame Hanie? Had that woman done wrong when she
left him and followed the freedom of her heart? Or did he commit a
crime by subduing her heart into love? Which of the two is the
oppressed and which is the oppressor? Who is the criminal and who
is the innocent?”
Then I resumed talking to myself after a few moments of deep
thinking. “Many times deception had tempted woman to leave
her husband and follow wealth, because her love for riches and
beautiful raiment blinds her and leads her into shame. Was Madame
Hanie deceitful when she left her rich husband’s palace for a
poor man’s hut? Many times ignorance kills a woman’s
honour and revives her passion; she grows tired and leaves her
husband, prompted by her desires, and follows a man to whom she
lowers herself. Was Madame Hanie an ignorant woman following her
physical desires when she declared publicly her independence and
joined her beloved young man? She could have satisfied herself
secretly while at her husband’s home, for many men were
willing to be the slaves of her beauty and martyrs of her love.
Madame Hanie was a miserable woman. She sought only happiness,
found it, and embraced it. This is the very truth which society
disrespects.” Then I whispered through the ether and inquired
of myself, “Is it permissible for a woman to buy her
happiness with her husband’s misery?” And my soul
added, “Is it lawful for a man to enslave his wife’s
affection when he realizes he will never possess it?”
I continued walking and Madame Hanie’s voice was still
sounding in my ears when I reached the extreme end of the city. The
sun was disappearing and silence ruled the fields and prairies
while the birds commenced singing their evening prayers. I stood
there meditating, and then I sighed and said, “Before the
throne of Freedom, the trees rejoice with the frolicsome breeze and
enjoy the rays of the sun and the beams of the moon. Through the
ears of Freedom these birds whisper and around Freedom they flutter
to the music of the brooks. Throughout the sky of Freedom these
flowers breathe their fragrance and before Freedom’s eyes
they smile when day comes.
“Everything lives on earth according to the law of nature,
and from that law emerges the glory and joy of liberty; but man is
denied this fortune, because he set for the God-given soul a
limited and earthly law of his own. He made for himself strict
rules. Man built a narrow and painful prison in which he secluded
his affections and desires. He dug out a deep grave in which he
buried his heart and its purpose. If an individual, through the
dictates of his soul, declares his withdrawal from society and
violates the law, his fellowmen will say he is a rebel worthy of
exile, or an infamous creature worthy only of execution. Will man
remain a slave of self-confinement until the end of the world? Or
will he be freed by the passing of time and live in the Spirit for
the Spirit? Will man insist upon staring downward and backward at
the earth? Or will he turn his eyes toward the sun so he will not
see the shadow of his body amongst the skulls and
thorns?”
Part One
The Emir walked into the court room and took the central chair
while at his right and left sat the wise men of the country. The
guards, armed with swords and spears, stood in attention, and the
people who came to witness the trial rose and bowed ceremoniously
to the Emir whose eyes emanated a power that revealed horror to
their spirits and fear to their hearts. As the court came to order
and the hour of judgment approached, the Emir raised his hand and
shouted saying, “Bring forth the criminals singly and tell me
what crimes they have committed.” The prison door opened like
the mouth of a ferocious yawning beast. In the obscure corners of
the dungeon one could hear the echo of shackles rattling in unison
with the moaning and lamentations of the prisoners. The spectators
were eager to see the prey of Death emerging from the depths of
that inferno. A few moments later, two soldiers came out leading a
young man with his arms pinioned behind his back. His stern face
bespoke nobility of spirit and strength of the heart. He was halted
in the middle of the court room and the soldiers marched a few
steps to the rear. The Emir stared at him steadily and said,
“What crime has this man, who is proudly and triumphantly
standing before me, committed?” One of the courtmen
responded, “He is a murderer; yesterday he slew one of the
Emir’s officers who was on an important mission in the
surrounding villages; he was still grasping the bloody sword when
he was arrested.” The Emir retorted with anger, “Return
the man to the dark prison and tie him with heavy chains, and at
dawn cut off his head with his own sword and throw his body in the
woods so that the beasts may eat the flesh, and the air may carry
its remindful door into the noses of his family and friends.”
The youth was returned to prison while the people looked upon him
with sorrowful eyes, for he was a young man in the spring of
life.
The soldiers returned back again from the prison leading a young
woman of natural and frail beauty. She looked pale and upon her
face appeared the signs of oppression and disappointment. Her eyes
were soaked with tears and her head was bent under the burden of
grief. After eyeing her thoroughly, the Emir exclaimed, “And
this emaciated woman, who is standing before me like the shadow
beside a corpse, what has she done?” One of the soldiers
answered him, saying, “She is an adulteress; last night her
husband discovered her in the arms of another. After her lover
escaped, her husband turned her over to the law.” The Emir
looked at her while she raised her face without expression, and he
ordered, “Take her back to the dark room and stretch her upon
a bed of thorns so she may remember the resting place which she
polluted with her fault; give her vinegar mixed with gall to drink
so she may remember the taste of those sweet kisses. At dawn drag
her naked body outside the city and stone her. Let the wolves enjoy
the tender meat of her body and the worms pierce her bones.”
AS she walked back to the dark cell, the people looked upon her
with sympathy and surprise. They were astonished with the
Emir’s justice and grieved over her fate. The soldiers
reappeared, bringing with them a sad man with shaking knees and
trembling like a tender sapling before the north wind. He looked
powerless, sickly and frightened, and he was miserable and poor.
The Emir stared at him loathfully and inquired, “And this
filthy man, who is like dead amongst the living; what has he
done?” One of the guards returned, “He is a thief who
broke into the monastery and stole the sacred vases which the
priests found under his garment when they arrested him.”
As a hungry eagle who looks at a bird with broken wings, the Emir
looked at him and said, “Take him back to the jail and chain
him, and at dawn drag him into a lofty tree and hang him between
heaven and earth so his sinful hands may perish and the members of
his body may be turned into particles and scattered by the
wind.” As the thief stumbled back into the depths of the
prison, the people commenced whispering one to another saying,
“How dare such a weak and heretic man steal the sacred vases
of the monastery?”
At this time the court adjourned and the Emir walked out
accompanied by all his wise men, guarded by the soldiers, while the
audience scattered and the place became empty except of the moaning
and wailing of the prisoners. All this happened while I was
standing there like a mirror before passing ghosts. I was
meditating the laws, made by man for man, contemplating what the
people call “justice,” and engrossing myself with deep
thoughts of the secrets of life. I tried to understand the meaning
of the universe. I was dumbfounded in finding myself lost like a
horizon that disappears beyond the cloud. As I left the place I
said to myself, “The vegetable feeds upon the elements of the
earth, the sheep eats the vegetable, the wolf preys upon the sheep,
and the bull kills the wolf while the lion devours the bull; yet
Death claims the lion. Is there any power that will overcome Death
and make these brutalities an eternal justice? Is there a force
that can convert all the ugly things into beautiful objects? Is
there any might that can clutch with its hands all the elements of
life and embrace them with joy as the sea joyfully engulfs all the
brooks into its depths? Is there any power that can arrest the
murdered and the murderer, the adulteress and the adulterer, the
robber and the robbed, and bring them to a court loftier and more
supreme than the court of the Emir?”
Part Two
The next day I left the city for the fields where silence reveals
to the soul that which the spirit desires, and where the pure sky
kills the germs of despair, nursed in the city by the narrow
streets and obscured places. When I reached the valley, I saw a
flock of crows and vultures soaring and descending, filling the sky
with cawing, whistling and rustling of the wings. As I proceeded I
saw before me a corpse of a man hanged high in a tree, the body of
a dead naked woman in the midst of a heap of stones, and a carcass
of a youth with his head cut off and soaked with blood mixed with
earth. It was a horrible sight that blinded my eyes with a thick,
dark veil of sorrows. I looked in every direction and saw naught
except the spectre of Death standing by those ghastly remains.
Nothing could be heard except the wailing of non-existence, mingled
with the cawing of crows hovering about the victims of human laws.
Three human beings, who yesterday were in the lap of Life, today
fell as victims to Death because they broke the rules of human
society. When a man kills another man, the people say he is a
murderer, but when the Emir kills him, the Emir is just. When a man
robs a monastery, they say he is a thief, but when the Emir robs
him of his life, the Emir is honourable. When a woman betrays her
husband, they say she is an adulteress, but when the Emir makes her
walk naked in the streets and stones her later, the Emir is noble.
Shedding of blood is forbidden, but who made it lawful for the
Emir? Stealing one’s money is a crime, but taking away
one’s life is a noble act. Betrayal of a husband may be an
ugly deed, but stoning of living souls is a beautiful sight. Shall
we meet evil with evil and say this is the Law? Shall we fight
corruption with greater corruption and say this is the Rule? Shall
we conquer crimes with more crimes and say this is Justice? Had not
the Emir killed an enemy in his past life? Had he not robbed his
weak subjects of money and property? Had he not committed adultery?
Was he infallible when he killed the murderer and hanged the thief
in the tree? Who are those who hanged the thief in the tree? Are
they angels descended from heaven, or men looting and usurping? Who
cut off the murderer’s head? Are they divine prophets, or
soldiers shedding blood wherever they go? Who stoned that
adulteress? Were they virtuous hermits who came from their
monasteries, or humans who loved to commit atrocities with glee,
under the protection of ignorant Law? What is Law? Who saw it
coming with the sun from the depths of heaven? What human saw the
heart of God and found its will or purpose? In what century did the
angels walk among the people and preach to them, saying,
“Forbid the weak from enjoying life, and kill the outlaws
with the sharp edge of the sword, and step upon the sinners with
iron feet?”
As my mind suffered in this fashion, I heard a rustling of feet in
the grass close by. I took heed and saw a young woman coming from
behind the trees; she looked carefully in every direction before
she approached the three carcasses that were there. As she glanced,
she saw the youth’s head that was cut off. She cried
fearfully, knelt, and embraced it with her trembling arms; then she
commenced shedding tears and touching the blood-matted, curly hair
with her soft fingers, crying in a voice that came from the
remnants of a shattered heart. She could bear the sight no longer.
She dragged the body to a ditch and placed the head gently between
the shoulders, covered the entire body with earth, and upon the
grave she planted the sword with which the head of the young man
had been cut off.
As she started to leave, I walked toward her. She trembled when she
saw me, and her eyes were heavy with tears. She sighed and said,
“Turn me over to the Emir if you wish. It is better for me to
die and follow the one who saved my life from the grip of disgrace
than to leave his corpse as food for the ferocious beasts.”
Then I responded, “Fear me not, poor girl, I have lamented
the young man before you did. But tell me, how did he save you from
the grip of disgrace?” She replied with a choking and
fainting voice, “One of the Emir’s officers came to our
farm to collect the tax; when he saw me, he looked upon me as a
wolf looks upon a lamb. He imposed on my father a heavy tax that
even a rich man could not pay. He arrested me as a token to take to
the Emir in ransom for the gold which my father was unable to give.
I begged him to spare me, but he took no heed, for he had no mercy.
Then I cried for help, and this young man, who is dead now, came
for my help and saved me from a living death. The officer attempted
to kill him, but this man took an old sword that was hanging on the
wall of our home and stabbed him. He did not run away like a
criminal, but stood by the dead officer until the law came and took
him into custody.” Having uttered these words which would
make any human heart bleed with sorrow, she turned her face and
walked away.
In a few moments I saw a youth coming and hiding his face with a
cloak. As he approached the corpse of the adulteress, he took off
the garment and placed it upon her naked body. Then he drew a
dagger from under the cloak and dug a pit in which he placed the
dead girl with tenderness and care, and covered her with earth upon
which he poured his tears. When he finished his task, he plucked
some flowers and placed them reverently upon the grave. As he
started to leave, I halted him saying, “What kin are you to
this adulteress? And what prompted you to endanger your life by
coming here to protect her naked body from the ferocious
beasts?”
When he stared at me, his sorrowful eyes bespoke his misery, and he
said, “I am the unfortunate man for whose love she was
stoned; I loved her and she loved me since childhood; we grew
together; Love, whom we served and revered, was the lord of our
hearts. Love joined both of us and embraced our souls. One day I
absented myself from the city, and upon my return I discovered that
her father obliged her to marry a man she did not love. My life
became a perpetual struggle, and all my days were converted into
one long and dark night. I tried to be at peace with my heart, but
my heart would not be still. Finally I went to see her secretly and
my sole purpose was to have a glimpse of her beautiful eyes and
hear the sound of her serene voice. When I reached her house I
found her lonely, lamenting her unfortunate self. I sat by her;
silence was our important conversation and virtue our companion.
One hour of understanding quiet passed, when her husband entered. I
cautioned him to contain himself but he dragged her with both hands
into the street and cried out saying, ‘Come, come and see the
adulteress and her lover!’ All the neighbours rushed about
and later the law came and took her to the Emir, but I was not
touched by the soldiers. The ignorant Law and sodden customs
punished the woman for her father’s fault and pardoned the
man.”
Having thus spoken, the man turned toward the city while I remained
pondering the corpse of the thief hanging in that lofty tree and
moving slightly every time the wind shook the branches, waiting for
someone to bring him down and stretch him upon the bosom of the
earth beside the Defender of Honour and Martyr of Love. An hour
later, a frail and wretched woman appeared, crying. She stood
before the hanged man and prayed reverently. Then she struggled up
into the tree and gnawed with her teeth on the linen rope until it
broke and the dead fell on the ground like a huge wet cloth;
whereupon she came down, dug a grave, and buried the thief by the
side of the other two victims. After covering him with earth, she
took two pieces of wood and fashioned a cross and placed it over
the head. When she turned her face to the city and started to
depart, I stopped her saying, “What incited you to come and
bury this thief?” She looked at me miserably and said,
“He is my faithful husband and merciful companion; he is the
father of my children – five young ones starving to death;
the oldest is eight years of age, and the youngest is still
nursing. My husband was not a thief, but a farmer working in the
monastery’s land, making our living on what little food the
priests and monks gave him when he returned home at eventide. He
had been farming for them since he was young, and when he became
weak, they dismissed him, advising him to go back home and send his
children to take his place as soon as they grew older. He begged
them in the name of Jesus and the angels of heaven to let him stay,
but they took no heed of his plea. They had no mercy on him nor on
his starving children who were helplessly crying for food. He went
to the city seeking employment, but in vain, for the rich did not
employ except the strong and the healthy. Then he sat on the dusty
street stretching his hand toward all who passed, begging and
repeating the sad song of his defeat in life, while suffering from
hunger and humiliation, but the people refused to help him, saying
that lazy people did not deserve alms. On night, hunger gnawed
painfully at our children. especially the youngest, who tried
hopelessly to nurse on my dry breast. My husband’s expression
changed and he left the house under the cover of the night. He
entered the monastery’s bin and carried out a bushel of
wheat. As he emerged, the monks woke up from their slumber and
arrested him after beating him mercilessly. At dawn they brought
him to the Emir and complained that he came to the monastery to
steal the golden vases of the altar. He was placed in prison and
hanged the second day. He was trying to fill the stomachs of his
little hungry one with the wheat he had raised by his own labour,
but the Emir killed him and used his flesh as food to fill the
stomachs of the birds and the beasts.” Having spoken in this
manner, she left me alone in a sorrowful plight and departed.
I stood there before the graves like a speaker suffering
wordlessness while trying to recite a eulogy. I was speechless, but
my falling tears substitute for my words and spoke for my soul. My
spirit rebelled when I attempted to meditate a while, because the
soul is like a flower that folds its petals when dark comes, and
breathes not its fragrance into the phantoms of the night. I felt
as if the earth that enfolded the victims of oppression in that
lonely place were filling my ears with sorrowful tunes of suffering
souls, and inspiring me to talk. I resorted to silence, but if the
people understood what silence reveals to them, they would have
been as close to God as the flowers of the valleys. If the flames
of my sighing soul had touched the trees, they would have moved
from their places and marched like a strong army to fight the Emir
with their branches and tear down the monastery upon the heads of
those priests and monks. I stood there watching, and felt that the
sweet feeling of mercy and the bitterness of sorrow were pouring
from my heart upon the newly dug graves – a grave of a young
man who sacrificed his life in defending a weak maiden, whose life
and honour he had saved from between the paws and teeth of a savage
human; a youth whose head was cut off in reward for his bravery;
and his sword was planted upon his grave by the one he saved, as a
symbol of heroism before the face of the sun that shines upon an
empire laden with stupidity and corruption. A grave of a young
woman whose heart was inflamed with love before her body was taken
by greed, usurped by lust, and stoned by tyranny. . . . She kept
her faith until death; her lover placed flowers upon her grave to
speak through their withering hours of those souls whom Love had
selected and blessed among a people blinded by earthly substance
and muted by ignorance. A grave of a miserable man, weakened by
hard labour in the monastery’s land, who asked for bread to
feed his hungry little ones, and was refused. He resorted to
begging, but the people took no heed. When his soul led him to
restore a small part of the crop which he had raised and gathered,
he was arrested and beaten to death. His poor widow erected a cross
upon his head as a witness in the silence of the night before the
stars of heaven to testify against those priests who converted the
kind teaching of Christ into sharp swords by which they cut the
people’s necks and tore the bodies of the weak.
The sun disappeared behind the horizon as if tiring of the
world’s troubles and loathing the people’s submission.
At that moment the evening began to weave a delicate veil from the
sinews of silence and spread it upon Nature’s body. I
stretched my hand toward the graves, pointing at their symbols,
lifted my eyes toward heaven and cried out, “Oh, Bravery,
this is your sword, buried now in the earth! Oh, Love, these are
your flowers, scorched by fire! Oh, Lord Jesus, this is Thy cross,
submerged in the obscurity of the night!”
Part One
Sheik Abbas was looked upon as a prince by the people of a solitary
village in North Lebanon. His mansion stood in the midst of those
poor villagers’ huts like a healthy giant amidst the sickly
dwarfs. He lived amid luxury while they pursued an existence of
penury. They obeyed him and bowed reverently before him as he spoke
to them. It seemed as though the power of mind had appointed him
its official interpreter and spokesman. His anger would make them
tremble and scatter like autumn leaves before a strong wind. If he
were to slap one’s face, it would be heresy on the
individual’s part to move or lift his head or make any
attempt to discover why the blow had come. If he smiled at a man,
the villagers would consider the person thus honoured as the most
fortunate. The people’s fear and surrender to Sheik Abbas
were not due to weakness; however, their poverty and need of him
had brought about this state of continual humiliation. Even the
huts they lived in and the fields they cultivated were owned by
Sheik Abbas who had inherited them from his ancestors.
The farming of the land and the sowing of the seeds and the
gathering of wheat were all done under the supervision of the Sheik
who, in reward for their toil, compensated them with a small
portion of the crop which barely kept them from falling as victims
of gnawing starvation.
Often many of them were in need of bread before the crop was
reaped, and they came to Sheik Abbas and asked him with pouring
tears to advance them a few piastres or a bushel of wheat and the
Sheik gladly granted their request for he knew that they would pay
their debts doubly when harvest time came. Thus those people
remained obligated all their lives, left a legacy of debts to their
children and were submissive to their master whose anger they had
always feared and whose friendship and good will they had
constantly but unsuccessfully endeavoured to win.
Part Two
Winter came and brought heavy snow and strong winds; the valleys
and the fields became empty of all things except leafless trees
which stood as spectres of death above the lifeless plains.
Having stored the products of the land in the Sheik’s bins
and filled his vases with the wine of the vineyards, the villagers
retreated to their huts to spend a portion of their lives idling by
the fireside and commemorating the glory of the past ages and
relating to one another the tales of weary days and long
nights.
The old year had just breathed its last into the grey sky. The
night had arrived during which the New Year would be crowned and
placed upon the throne of the Universe. The snow began to fall
heavily and the whistling winds were racing from the lofty
mountains down to the abyss and blowing the snow into heaps to be
stored away in the valleys.
The trees were shaking under the heavy storms and the fields and
knolls were covered with a white floor upon which Death was writing
vague lines and effacing them. The mists stood as partitions
between the scattered villages by the sides of the valleys. The
lights that flickered through the windows of those wretched huts
disappeared behind the thick veil of Nature’s wrath.
Fear penetrated the fellahin’s hearts and the animals stood
by their mangers in the sheds, while the dogs were hiding in the
corners. One could hear the voices of the screaming winds and
thundering of the storms resounding from the depths of the valleys.
It seemed as if Nature were enraged by the passing of the old year
and trying to wrest revenge from those peaceful souls by fighting
with weapons of cold and frost.
That night under the raging sky, a young man was attempting to walk
the winding trail that connected Deir Kizhaya with Sheik
Abbas’ village. The youth’s limbs were numbed with
cold, while pain and hunger usurped him of his strength. The black
raiment he wore was bleached with the falling snow, as if he were
shrouded in death before the hour of his death had come. He was
struggling against the wind. His progress was difficult, and he
took but a few steps forward with each effort. He called for help
and then stood silent, shivering in the cold night. He had slim
hope, withering between great despair and deep sorrow. He was like
a bird with a broken wing, who fell in a stream whose whirlpools
carried him down to the depths.
The young man continued walking and falling until his blood stopped
circulating and he collapsed. He uttered a terrible sound . . . the
voice of a soul who encountered the hollow face of Death . . . a
voice of dying youth, weakened by man and trapped by nature . . . a
voice of the love of existence in the space of nothingness.
Part Three
On the north side of that village, in the midst of the wind-torn
fields, stood the solitary home of a woman named Rachel, and her
daughter Miriam who had not then attained the age of eighteen.
Rachel was the widow of Samaan Ramy, who was found slain six years
earlier, but the law of man did not find the murderer.
Like the rest of the Lebanese widows, Rachel sustained life through
long, hard work. During the harvest season, she would look for ears
of corn left behind by others in the field, and in Autumn she
gathered the remnants of some forgotten fruits in the gardens. In
Winter she spun wool and made raiment for which she received a few
piastres or a bushel of grain. Miriam, her daughter, was a
beautiful girl who shared with her mother the burden of toil.
That bitter night the two women were sitting by the fireplace whose
warmth was weakened by the frost and whose firebrands were buried
beneath the ashes. By their side was a flickering lamp that sent
its yellow, dimmed rays into the heart of darkness like a prayer
that sends phantoms of hope into the hearts of the sorrowful.
Midnight had come and they were listening to the wailing winds
outside. Every now and then Miriam would get up, open the small
transom and look toward the obscured sky, and then she would return
to her chair worried and frightened by the raging elements.
Suddenly Miriam started, as if she had awakened from a swoon of
deep slumber. She looked anxiously toward her mother and said,
“Did you hear that, Mother? Did you hear a voice calling for
help?” The mother listened a moment and said, “I hear
nothing but the crying wind, my daughter.” Then Miriam
exclaimed, “I heard a voice deeper than the thundering heaven
and more sorrowful than the wailing of the tempest.”
Having uttered these words. she stood up and opened the door and
listened for a moment. Then she said, “I hear it again,
Mother!” Rachel hurried toward the frail door and after a
moment’s hesitation she said, “And I hear it, too. Let
us go and see.”
She wrapped herself with a long robe, opened the door and walked
out cautiously, while Miriam stood at the door, the wind blowing
her long hair.
Having forced her way a short distance through the snow, Rachel
stopped and shouted out, “Who is calling . . . where are
you?” There was no answer; then she repeated the same words
again and again, but she heard naught except thunder. Then she
courageously advanced forward, looking in every direction. She had
walked for some time, when she found some deep footprints upon the
snow; she followed them fearfully and in a few moments found a
human body lying before her on the snow, like a patch on a white
dress. As she approached him and leaned his head over her knees,
she felt his pulse that bespoke his slowing heart beats and his
slim chance in life. She turned her face toward the hut and called,
“Come, Miriam, come and help me, I have found him!”
Miriam rushed out and followed her mother’s footprints, while
shivering with cold and trembling with fear. As she reached the
place and saw the youth lying motionless, she cried with an aching
voice. The mother put her hands under his armpits, calmed Miriam
and said, “Fear not, for he is still living; hold the lower
edge of his cloak and let us carry him home.”
Confronted with the strong wind and heavy snow, the two women
carried the youth and started toward the hut. As they reached the
little haven, they laid him down by the fireplace. Rachel commenced
rubbing his numbed hands and Miriam drying his hair with the end of
her dress. The youth began to move after a few minutes. His eyelids
quivered and he took a deep sigh – a sigh that brought the
hope of his safety into the hearts of the merciful women. They
removed his shoes and took off his black robe. Miriam looked at her
mother and said, “Observe his raiment, Mother; these clothes
are worn by the monks.” After feeding the fire with a bundle
of dry sticks, Rachel looked at her daughter with perplexity and
said, “The monks do not leave their convent on such a
terrible night.” And Miriam inquired, “But he has no
hair on his face; the monks wear beards.” The mother gazed at
him with eyes full of mercy and maternal love; then she turned to
her daughter and said, “It makes no difference whether he is
a monk or a criminal; dry his feet well, my daughter.” Rachel
opened a closet, took from it a jar of wine and poured some in an
earthenware bowl. Miriam held his head while the mother gave him
some of it to stimulate his heart. As he sipped the wine he opened
his eyes for the first time and gave his rescuers a sorrowful look
mingled with tears of gratitude – the look of a human who
felt the smooth touch of life after having been gripped in the
sharp claws of death – a look of great hope after hope had
died. Then he bent his head, and his lips trembled when he uttered
the words, “May God bless both of you.” Rachel placed
her hand upon his shoulder and said, “Be calm, brother. Do
not tire yourself with talking until you gain strength.” And
Miriam added, “Rest your head on this pillow, brother, and we
will place you closer to the fire.” Rachel refilled the bowl
with wine and gave it to him. She looked at her daughter and said,
“Hang his robe by the fire so it will dry.” Having
executed her mother’s command, she returned and commenced
looking at him mercifully, as if she wanted to help him by pouring
into his heart all the warmth of her soul. Rachel brought two
loaves of bread with some preserves and dry fruits; she sat by him
and began to feed him small morsels, as a mother feeds her little
child. At this time he felt stronger and sat up on the hearth mat
while the red flames of fire reflected upon his sad face. His eyes
brightened and he shook his head slowly, saying, “Mercy and
cruelty are both wrestling in the human heart like the mad elements
in the sky of this terrible night, but mercy shall overcome cruelty
because it is divine, and the terror alone, of this night, shall
pass away when daylight comes.” Silence prevailed for a
minute and then he added with a whispering voice, “A human
hand drove me into desperation and a human hand rescued me; how
severe man is, and how merciful man is!” And Rachel inquired,
“How ventured you, brother, to leave the convent on such a
terrible night, when even the beasts do not venture
forth?”
The youth shut his eyes as if he wanted to restore his tears back
into the depths of his heart, whence they came, and he said,
“The animals have their caves, and the birds of the sky their
nests, but the son of man has not place to rest his head.”
Rachel retorted, “That is what Jesus said about
himself.” And the young man resumed, “This is the
answer for every man who wants to follow the Spirit and the Truth
in this age of falsehood, hypocrisy and corruption.”
After a few moments of contemplation, Rachel said, “But there
are many comfortable rooms in the convent, and the coffers are full
of gold, and all kinds of provisions. The sheds of the convent are
stocked with fat calves and sheep; what made you leave such haven
in this deathly night?” The youth sighed deeply and said,
“I left that place because I hated it.” And Rachel
rejoined, “A monk in a convent is like a soldier in the
battlefield who is required to obey the orders of his leader
regardless of their nature. I heard that a man could not become a
monk unless he did away with his will, his thoughts, his desires,
and all that pertains to the mind. But a good priest does not ask
his monks to do unreasonable things. How could the head priest of
Deir Kizhaya ask you to give up your life to the storms and
snow?” And he remarked, “In the opinion of the head
priest, a man cannot become a monk unless he is blind and ignorant,
senseless and dumb. I left the convent because I am a sensible man
who can see, feel, and hear.”
Miriam and Rachel stared at him as if they had found in his face a
hidden secret; after a moment of meditation the mother said,
“Will a man who sees and hears go out on a night that blinds
the eyes and deafens the ears?” And the youth sated quietly,
“I was expelled from the convent.”
“Expelled!” exclaimed Rachel; and Miriam repeated the
same word in unison with her mother.
He lifted his head, regretting his words, for he was afraid lest
their love and sympathy be converted into hatred and disrespect;
but when he looked at them and found the rays of mercy still
emanating from their eyes, and their bodies vibrating with anxiety
to learn further, his voice choked and he continued, “Yes, I
was expelled form the convent because I could not dig my grave with
my own hands, and my heart grew weary of lying and pilfering. I was
expelled form the convent because my soul refused to enjoy the
bounty of a people who surrendered themselves to ignorance. I was
driven away because I could not find rest in the comfortable rooms,
built with the money of the poor fellahin. My stomach could not
hold bread baked with the tears of the orphans. My lips could not
utter prayers sold for gold and food by the heads to the simple and
faithful people. I was expelled from the convent like a filthy
leper because I was repeating to the monks the rules that qualified
them to their present position.”
Silence prevailed while Rachel and Miriam were contemplating his
words and gazing at him, when they asked, “Are your father
and mother living?” And he responded, “I have no father
or mother now a place that is my home.” Rachel drew a deep
sigh and Miriam turned her face toward the wall to hide hr merciful
and loving tears.
As a withering flower is brought back to life by dew drops that
dawn pours into its begging petals, so the youth’s anxious
heart was enlivened by his benefactor’s affection and
kindness. He looked at them as a soldier looks upon his liberators
who rescue him from the grip of the enemy, and he resumed, “I
lost my parents before I reached the age of seven. The village
priest took me to Deir Kizhaya and left me at the disposal of the
monks who were happy to take me in and put me in charge of the cows
and sheep, which I led each day to the pasture. When I attained the
age of fifteen, they put on me this black robe and led me into the
altar whereupon the head priest addressed me saying, ‘Swear
by the name of God and all saints, and make a vow to live a
virtuous life of poverty and obedience.’ I repeated the words
before I realized their significance or comprehended his own
interpretation of poverty, virtue and obedience.
“My name was Khalil, and since that time the monks addressed
me as Brother Mobarak, but they never did treat me as a brother.
They ate the most palatable foods and drank the finest wine, while
I lived on dry vegetables and water, mixed with tears. They
slumbered in soft beds while I slept on a stone slab in a dark and
cold room by the shed. Oftentimes I asked myself, ‘When will
my heart stop craving for the food they eat and the wine they eat?
When will I cease to tremble with fear before my superiors?’
But all my hopes were in vain, for I was kept in the same state;
and in addition to caring for the cattle, I was obliged to move
heavy stones on my shoulders and to dig pits and ditches. I
sustained life on a few morsels of bread given to me in reward for
my toil. I knew of no other place to which I might go, and the
clergymen at the convent had caused me to abhor everything they
were doing. They had poisoned my mind until I commenced to think
that the whole world was an ocean of sorrows and miseries and that
the convent was the only port of salvation. But when I discovered
the source of their food and gold, I was happy that I did not share
it.”
Khalil straightened himself and looked about with wonder, as if he
had found something beautiful standing before him in that wretched
hut. Rachel and Miriam remained silent and he proceeded,
“God, who took my father and exiled me as an orphan to the
convent, did not want me to spend all my life walking blindly
toward a dangerous jungle; nor did He wish me to be a miserable
slave for the rest of my life. God opened my eyes and ears and
showed me the bright light and made me hear Truth when Truth was
talking.”
Rachel thought aloud, “Is there any light, other than the
sun, that shines over all the people? Are human beings capable of
understanding the Truth?” Khalil returned, “The true
light is that which emanates from within man, and reveals the
secrets of the heart to the soul, making it happy and contented
with life. Truth is like the stars; it does not appear except from
behind obscurity of the night. Truth is like all beautiful things
in the world; it does not disclose its desirability except to those
who first feel the influence of falsehood. Truth is a deep kindness
that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with
the people the same happiness.”
Rachel rejoined, “Many are those who live according to their
goodness, and many are those who believe that compassion to others
is the shadow of the law of God to man; but still, they do not
rejoice in life, for they remain miserable until death.”
Khalil replied, “Vain are the beliefs and teachings that make
man miserable, and false is the goodness that leads him into sorrow
and despair, for it is man’s purpose to be happy on this
earth and lead the way to felicity and preach its gospel wherever
he goes. He who does not see the kingdom of heaven in this life
will never see it in the coming life. We came not into this life by
exile, but we came as innocent creatures of God, to learn how to
worship the holy and eternal spirit and seek the hidden secrets
within ourselves from the beauty of life. This is the truth which I
have learned from the teachings of the Nazarene. This is the light
that came from within me and showed me the dark corners of the
convent that threatened my life. This is the deep secret which the
beautiful valleys and fields revealed to me when I was hungry,
sitting lonely and weeping under the shadow of the trees.
“This is the religion as the convent should impart it; as God
wished it; as Jesus taught it. One day, as my soul became
intoxicated with the heavenly intoxication of Truth’s beauty,
I stood bravely before the monks who were gathering in the garden,
and criticized their wrong deeds saying, ‘Why do you spend
your days here and enjoy the bounty of the poor, whose bread you
eat was made with the sweat of their bodies and the tears of their
hearts? Why are you living in the shadow of parasitism, segregating
yourselves from the people who are in need of knowledge? Why are
you depriving the country your help? Jesus has sent you as lambs
amongst the wolves; what has made you as wolves amongst the lambs?
Why are you fleeing from mankind and from God who created you? If
you are better than the people who walk in the procession of life,
you should go to them and better their lives; but if you think they
are better than you, you should desire to learn from them. How do
you take an oath and vow to live in poverty, then forget what you
have said and live in luxury? How do you swear an obedience to God
and then revolt against all that religion means? How do you adopt
virtue as your rule when your hearts are full of lusts? You pretend
that you are killing your bodies, but in fact you are killing your
souls. You feign to abhor the earthly things, but your hearts are
swollen with greed. You have the people believe in you as religious
teachers; truly speaking you are like busy cattle who divert
themselves from knowledge by grazing in a green and beautiful
pasture. Let us restore to the needy the vast land of the convent
and give back to them the silver and gold we took from them. Let us
disperse from our aloofness and serve the weak who made us strong,
and cleanse the country in which we live. Let us teach this
miserable nation to smile and rejoice with heaven’s bounty
and glory of life and freedom.
“The people’s tears are more beautiful and God-joined
than the ease and tranquillity to which you have accustomed
yourselves in this place. The sympathy that touches the
neighbour’s heart is more supreme than the hidden virtue in
the unseen corners of the convent. A word of compassion to the weak
criminal or prostitute is nobler than the long prayer which we
repeat emptily every day in the temple.’ ”
At this time Khalil took a deep breath. Then he lifted his eyes
toward Rachel and Miriam saying, “I was saying all of these
things to the monks and they were listening with an air of
perplexity, as if they could not believe that a young man would
dare stand before them and utter such bold words. When I finished,
one of the monks approached me and angrily said to me, ‘How
dare you talk in such fashion in our presence?’ And another
one came laughing and added, ‘Did you learn all this from the
cows and pigs you tended in the fields?’ And a third one
stood up and threatened me saying, ‘You shall be punished,
heretic!’ Then they dispersed as though running away from a
leper. Some of them complained to the head priest who summoned me
before him at eventide. The monks took delight in anticipation of
my suffering, and there was glee on their faces when I was ordered
to be scourged and put into prison for forty days and nights. They
lad me into the dark cell where I spent the time lying on that
grave without seeing the light. I could not tell the end of the
night from the beginning of the day, and could feel nothing but
crawling insects and the earth under me. I could hear naught save
the tramping of their feet when my morsel of bread and dish of
water mixed with vinegar were brought to me at great intervals.
“When I came out of the prison I was weak and frail, and the
monks believed that they had cured me of thinking and that they had
killed my soul’s desire. They thought that hunger and thirst
had choked the kindness which God placed in my heart. In my forty
days of solitude I endeavoured to find a method by which I could
help these monks to see the light and hear the true song of life,
but all of my ponderings were in vain, for the thick veil which the
long ages had woven around their eyes could not be torn away in a
short time; and the mortar with which ignorance had cemented their
ears was hardened and could not be removed by the touch of soft
fingers.”
Silence prevailed for a moment, and then Miriam looked at her
mother as if asking permission to speak. She said, “You must
have talked to the monks again, if they selected this terrible
night in which to banish you from the convent. They should learn to
be kind even to their enemies.”
Khalil returned, “This evening, as the thunder storms and
warring elements raged in the sky, I withdrew myself from the monks
who were crouching about the fire, telling tales and humorous
stories. When they saw me alone they commenced to place their wit
at my expense. I was reading my Gospel and contemplating the
beautiful sayings of Jesus that made me forget for the time the
enraged nature and belligerent elements of the sky, when they
approached me with a new spirit of ridicule. I ignored them by
occupying myself and looking through the window, but they became
furious because my silence dried the laughter of their hearts and
the taunting of their lips. One of them said, ‘What are you
reading, Great Reformer?’ In response to his inquiry, I
opened my book and read aloud the following passage, ‘But
when he saw many of the Pharisees and Saducees come to his baptism,
he said unto them, ‘O generation of vipers, who hath warned
you to flee from the wrath to come? Bring forth therefore fruits
for repentance; And think not to say within yourselves, ‘We
have Abraham to our father;’ for I say unto you, that God is
able of these stones to raise the children unto Abraham. And now
also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees; therefore every
tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast
into the fire.’
“As I read to them these words of John the Baptist, the monks
became silent as if an invisible hand strangled their spirits, but
they took false courage and commenced laughing. One of them said,
‘We have read these words many times, and we are not in need
of a cow grazier to repeat them to us.”
“I protested, ‘If you had read these words and
comprehended their meaning, these poor villagers would not have
frozen or starved to death.’ When I said this, one of the
monks slapped my face as if I had spoken evil of the priests;
another kicked me and a third took the book from me and a fourth
one called the head priest who hurried to the scene shaking with
anger. He cried out, ‘Arrest this rebel and drag him from
this sacred place, and let the storm’s fury teach him
obedience. Take him away and let nature do unto him the will of
God, and then wash your hands of the poisonous germs of heresy
infesting his raiment. If he should return pleading for
forgiveness, do not open the door for him, for the viper will not
become a dove if placed in a cage, nor will the briar bear figs if
planted in the vineyards.’
“In accordance with the command, I was dragged out by the
laughing monks. Before they locked the door behind me, I heard one
saying, ‘Yesterday you were king of cows and pigs, and today
you are dethroned, Oh Great Reformer; go now and be the king of
wolves and teach them how to live in their lairs.’
”
Khalil sighed deeply, then turned his face and looked toward the
flaming fire. With a sweet and loving voice, and with a pained
countenance he said, “Thus was I expelled from the convent,
and thus did the monks deliver me over to the hands of Death. I
fought through the night blindly; the heavy wind was tearing my
robe and the piling snow was trapping me feet and pulling me down
until I fell, crying desperately for help. I felt that no one heard
me except Death, but a power which is all knowledge and mercy had
heard my cry. That power did not want me to die before I had
learned what is left of life’s secrets. That power sent you
both to me to save my life from the depth of the abyss and
non-existence.”
Rachel and Miriam felt as if their spirits understood the mystery
of his soul, and they became his partners in feeling and
understanding. Notwithstanding her will, Rachel stretched forth and
touched his hand gently while tears coursed down from her eyes, and
she said, “He who has been chosen by heaven as a defender of
Truth will not perish by heaven’s own storms and snow.”
And Miriam added, “The storms and snow may kill the flowers,
but cannot deaden the seeds, for the snow keeps them warm from the
killing frost.”
Khalil’s face brightened upon hearing those words of
encouragement, and he said, “If you do not look upon me as a
rebel and an heretic as the monks did, the persecution which I have
sustained in the convent is the symbol of an oppressed nation that
has not yet attained knowledge; and this night in which I was on
the verge of death is like a revolution that precedes full justice.
And from a sensitive woman’s heart springs the happiness of
mankind, and from the kindness of her noble spirit comes
mankind’s affection.”
He closed his eyes and leaned down on the pillow; the two women did
not bother him with further conversation for they knew that the
weariness cause by long exposure had allured and captured his eyes.
Khalil slept like a lost child who had finally found safety in his
mother’s arms.
Rachel and her daughter slowly walked to their bed and sat there
watching him as if they had found in his trouble-torn face an
attraction bringing their souls and hearts closer to him. And the
mother whispered, saying, “There is a strange power in his
closed eyes that speaks in silence and stimulates the soul’s
desires.”
And Miriam rejoined, “His hands, Mother, are like those of
Christ in the Church.” The mother replied, “His face
possesses at the same time a woman’s tenderness and a
man’s boldness.”
And the wings of slumber carried the two women’s spirits into
the world of dream, and the fire went down and turned into ashes,
while the light of the oil lamp dimmed gradually and disappeared.
The fierce tempest continued its roar, and the obscured sky spread
layers of snow, and the strong wind scattered them to the right and
the left.
Part Four
Five days passed, and the sky was still heavy with snow, burying
the mountains and prairies relentlessly. Khalil made three attempts
to resume his journey toward the plains, but Rachel restrained him
each time, saying, “Do not give up your life to the blind
elements, brother; remain here, for the bread that suffices two
will also feed three, and the fire will still be burning after your
departure as it was before your arrival. We are poor, brother, but
like the rest of the people, we live our lives before the face of
the sun and mankind, and God gives us our daily bread.”
And Miriam was begging him with her kind glances, and pleading with
her deep sighs, for since he entered the hut she felt the presence
of a divine power in her soul sending forth life and light into her
heart and awakening new affection in the Holy of Holies of her
spirit. For the first time she experienced the feeling which made
her heart like a white rose that sips the dew drops from the dawn
and breathes its fragrance into the endless firmament.
There is no affection purer and more soothing to the spirit than
the one hidden in the heart of a maiden who awakens suddenly and
fills her own spirit with heavenly music that makes her days like
poets’ dreams and her nights prophetic. There is no secret in
the mystery of life stronger and more beautiful than that
attachment which converts the silence of a virgin’s spirit
into a perpetual awareness that makes a person forget the past, for
it kindles fiercely in the heart the sweet and overwhelming hope of
the coming future.
The Lebanese woman distinguishes herself from the woman of other
nations by her simplicity. The manner in which she is trained
restricts her progress educationally, and stands as a hindrance to
her future. Yet for this reason, she finds herself inquiring of
herself as to the inclination and mystery of her heart. The
Lebanese young woman is like a spring that comes out from the heart
of the earth and follows its course through the winding
depressions, but since it cannot find an outlet to the sea, it
turns into a calm lake that reflects upon its growing surface the
glittering stars and the shining moon. Khalil felt the vibration of
Miriam’s heart twining steadily about his soul, and he knew
that the divine torch that illuminated his heart had also touched
her heart. He rejoiced for the first time, like a parched brook
greeting the rain, but he blamed himself for his haste, believing
that this spiritual understanding would pass like a cloud when he
departed from the village. He often spoke to himself saying,
“What is this mystery that plays so great a part in our
lives? What is this Law that drives us into a rough road and stops
us just before we reach the mountain top, smiling and glorying,
then suddenly we are cast to the depths of the valley, weeping and
suffering? What is this life that embraces us like a lover one day,
and fights us like an enemy the second day? Was I not persecuted
yesterday? Did I not survive hunger and thirst and suffering and
mockery for the sake of the Truth which heaven had awakened in my
heart? Did I not tell the monks that happiness through Truth is the
will and the purpose of God in man? Then what is this fear? And why
do I close my eyes to the light that emanates from that young
woman’s eyes? I am expelled and she is poor, but is it on
bread only that man can live? Are we not, between famine and
plenty, like trees between winter and summer? But what would Rachel
say if she knew that my heart and her daughter’s heart came
to an understanding in silence, and approached close to each other
and neared the circle of the Supreme Light? What would she say if
she discovered that the young man whose life she saved longed to
gaze upon her daughter? What would the simple villagers say if they
knew that a young man, reared in the convent, came to their village
by necessity and expulsion, and desired to live near a beautiful
maiden? Will they listen to me if I tell them that he who leaves
the convent to live amongst them is like a bird that flies from the
bruising walls of the cage to the light of freedom? What will Sheik
Abbas say if he hears my story? What will the priest of the village
do if he learns of the cause of my expulsion?”
Khalil was talking to himself in this fashion while sitting by the
fireplace, meditating the flames, symbol of his love; and Miriam
was stealing a glance now and then at his face and reading his
dreams through his eyes, and hearing the echo of his thoughts, and
feeling the touch of his love, even though no word was uttered.
One night, as he stood by the small transom that faced the valleys
where the trees and rocks were shrouded with white coverings,
Miriam came and stood by him, looking at the sky. As their eyes
turned and met, he drew a deep sigh and shut his eyes as if his
soul were sailing in the spacious sky looking for a word. He found
no word necessary, for the silence spoke for them. Miriam ventured,
“Where will you go when the snow meets the stream and the
paths are dry?” His eyes opened, looking beyond the horizon,
and he explained, “I shall follow the path to wherever my
destiny and my mission for truth shall take me.” Miriam
sighed sadly and offered, “Why will you not remain here and
live close to us? Is it that you are obliged to go
elsewhere?” He was moved by her kindness and sweet words, but
protested, “The villagers here will not accept an expelled
monk as their neighbour, and will not permit him to breathe the air
they breathe because they believe that the enemy of the convent is
an infidel, cursed by God and His saints.” Miriam resorted to
silence, for the Truth that pained her prevented further talk. Then
Khalil turned aside and explained, “Miriam, these villagers
are taught by those in authority to hate everyone who thinks
freely; they are trained to remain afar from those whose minds soar
aloft; God does not like to be worshipped by an ignorant man who
imitates someone else; if I remained in this village and asked the
people to worship as they please, they would say that I am an
infidel disobeying the authority that was given to the priest by
God. If I asked them to listen and hear the voices of their hearts
and do according to the will of the spirit within, they would say I
am an evil man who wants them to do away with the clergy that God
placed between heaven and earth.” Khalil looked straight into
Miriam’s eyes, and with a voice that bespoke the sound of
silver strings said, “But, Miriam, there is a magic power in
this village that possesses me and engulfs my soul; a power so
divine that it causes me to forget my pain. In this village I met
Death to his very face, and in this place my soul embraced
God’s spirit. In this village there is a beautiful flower
grown over the lifeless grass; its beauty attracts my heart and it
fragrance fills its domain. Shall I leave this important flower and
go out preaching the ideas that caused my expulsion from the
convent, or shall I remain by the side of that flower and dig a
grave and bury my thoughts and truths among its neighbouring
thorns? What shall I do, Miriam?” Upon hearing these words,
she shivered like a lily before the frolicsome breeze of the dawn.
Her heart glowed through her eyes when she faltered, “We are
both in the hands of a mysterious ad merciful power. Let it do its
will.”
At that moment the two hearts joined and thereafter both spirits
were one burning torch illuminating their lives.
Part Five
Since the beginning of the creation and up to our present time,
certain clans, rich by inheritance, in co-operation with the
clergy, had appointed themselves the administrators of the people.
It is an old, gaping wound in the heart of society that cannot be
removed except by intense removal of ignorance.
The man who acquires his wealth by inheritance builds his mansion
with the weak poor’s money. The clergyman erects his temple
upon the graves and bones of the devoted worshippers. The prince
grasps the fellah’s arms while the priest empties his pocket;
the ruler looks upon the sons of the fields with frowning face, and
the bishop consoles them with his smile, and between the frown of
the tiger and the smile of the wolf the flock is perished; the
ruler claims himself as king of the law, and the priest as the
representative of God, and between these two, the bodies are
destroyed and the souls wither into nothing.
In Lebanon, that mountain rich in sunlight and poor in knowledge,
the noble and the priest joined hands to exploit the farmer who
ploughed the land and reaped the crop in order to protect himself
from the sword of the ruler and the curse of the priest. The rich
man in Lebanon stood proudly by his palace and shouted at the
multitudes saying, “The Sultan had appointed me as your
lord.” And the priest stands before the altar saying,
“God has delegated me as an executive of your souls.”
But the Lebanese resorted to silence, for the dead could not
talk.
Sheik Abbas had friendship in his heart for the clergymen, because
they were his allies in choking the people’s knowledge and
reviving the spirit of stern obedience among his workers.
That evening, when Khalil and Miriam were approaching the throne of
Love, and Rachel was looking upon them with the eyes of affection,
Father Elias informed Sheik Abbas that the head priest had expelled
a rebellious young man from the convent and that he had taken
refuge at the house of Rachel, the widow of Samaan Ramy. And the
priest was not satisfied with the little information he gave the
Sheik, but commented, “The demon they chased out of the
convent cannot become an angel in this village, and the fig tree
which is hewn and cast into the fire, does not bear fruit while
burning. If we wish to clean this village of the filth of this
beast, we must drive him away as the monks did.” And the
Sheik answered, “Are you certain that the young man will be a
bad influence upon our people? Is it not better for us to keep him
and make him a worker in our vineyards? We are in need of strong
men.”
The priest’s face showed his disagreement. Combing his beard
with his fingers, he said shrewdly, “If he were fit to work,
he would not have been expelled from the convent. A student who
works in the convent, and who happened to spend last night at my
house, informed me that this young man had violated the rules of
the head priest by preaching danger-ridden ideas among the monks,
and he quoted him as saying, ‘Restore the fields and the
vineyards and the silver of the convent to the poor and scatter it
in all directions; and help the people who are in need of
knowledge; by thus doing, you will please your Father in
Heaven.’ ”
On hearing these words, Sheik Abbas leaped to his feet, and like a
tiger making ready to strike the victim, he walked to the door and
called to the servants, ordering them to report immediately. Three
men entered, and the Sheik commanded, “In the house of
Rachel, the widow of Samaan Ramy, there is a young man wearing a
monk’s raiment. Tie him and bring him here. If that woman
objects to his arrest, drag her out by her braided hair over the
snow and bring her with him, for he who helps evil is evil
himself.” The men bowed obediently and hurried to
Rachel’s home while the priest and the Sheik discussed the
type of punishment to be awarded to Khalil and Rachel.
Part Six
The day was over and the night had come spreading its shadow over
those wretched huts, heavily laden with snow. The stars finally
appeared in the sky, like hopes in the coming eternity after the
suffering of death’s agony. The doors and windows were closed
and the lamps were lighted. The fellahin sat by the fireside,
warming their bodies. Rachel, Miriam and Khalil were seated at a
rough wooden table eating their evening meal when there was a knock
at the door and three men entered. Rachel and Miriam were
frightened, but Khalil remained calm, as if he awaited the coming
of those men. One of the Sheik’s servants walked toward
Khalil, laid his hand upon his shoulder and asked, “Are you
the one who was expelled from the convent?” And Khalil
responded, “Yes, I am the one, what do you want?” The
man replied, “We are ordered to arrest you and take you with
us to Sheik Abbas’ home, and if you object we shall drag you
out like a butchered sheep over the snow.”
Rachel turned pale as she exclaimed, “What crime has he
committed, and why do you want to tie him and drag him out?”
The two women pleaded with tearful voices, saying, “He is one
individual in the hands of three and it is cowardly of you to make
him suffer.” The men became enraged and shouted, “Is
there any woman in this village who opposes the Sheik’s
order?” And he drew forth a rope and started to tie
Khalil’s hands. Khalil lifted his head proudly, and a
sorrowful smile appeared on his lips when he said, “I feel
sorry for you men, because you are a strong and blind instrument in
the hands of a man who oppresses the weak with the strength of your
arms. You are slaves of ignorance. Yesterday I was a man like you,
but tomorrow you shall be free in mind as I am now. Between us
there is a deep precipice that chokes my calling voice and hides my
reality from you, and you cannot hear or see. Here I am, tie my
hands and do as you please.” The three men were moved by his
talk and it seemed that his voice had awakened in them a new
spirit, but the voice of Sheik Abbas still rang in their minds,
warning them to complete the mission. They bound his hands and led
him out silently with a heavy conscience. Rachel and Miriam
followed them to the Sheik’s home, like the daughters of
Jerusalem who followed Christ to Mount Calvary.
Part Seven
Regardless of its import, news travels swiftly among the fellahin
in the small villages, because their absence from the realm of
society makes them anxious and busy in discussing the happenings of
their limited environs. In winter, when the fields are slumbering
under the quilts of snow, and when human life is taking refuge and
warming itself by the fireside, the villagers become most inclined
to learn of current news in order to occupy themselves.
It was not long after Khalil was arrested, when the story spread
like a contagious disease amongst the villagers. They left their
huts and hurried like an army from every direction into the home of
Sheik Abbas. When Khalil’s feet stepped into the
Sheik’s home, the residence was crowded with men, women and
children who were endeavouring for a glance at the infidel who was
expelled from the convent. They were also anxious to see Rachel and
her daughter, who had helped Khalil in spreading the hellish
disease if heresy in the pure sky of their village.
The Sheik took the seat of judgment and beside him sat Father
Elias, while the throng was gazing at the pinioned youth who stood
bravely before them. Rachel and Miriam were standing behind Khalil
and trembling with fear. But what could fear do to the heart of a
woman who found Truth and followed him? What could the scorn of the
crowd do to the soul of a maiden who had been awakened by Love?
Sheik Abbas looked at the young man, and with a thundering voice he
interrogated him saying, “What is your name, man?”
“Khalil is my name,” answered the youth. The Sheik
returned, “Who are your father and mother and relatives, and
where were you born?” Khalil turned toward the fellahin, who
looked upon him with hateful eyes, and said, “The oppressed
poor are my clan and my relatives, and this vast country is my
birthplace.”
Sheik Abbas, with an air of ridicule, said, “Those people
whom you claim as kin demand that you be punished, and the country
you assert as your birthplace objects to your being a member of its
people.” Khalil replied, “The ignorant nations arrest
their good men and turn them into their despots; and a country,
ruled by a tyrant, persecutes those who try to free the people from
the yoke of slavery. But will a good son leave his mother if she is
ill? Will a merciful man deny his brother who is miserable? Those
poor men who arrested me and brought me here today are the same
ones who surrendered their lives to you yesterday. And this vast
earth that disapproves my existence is the one that does not yawn
and swallow the greedy despots.”
The Sheik uttered a loud laugh, as if wanting to depress the young
man’s spirit and prevent him from influencing the audience.
He turned to Khalil and said impressively, “You cattle
grazier, do you think that we will show more mercy than did the
monks, who expelled you from the convent? Do you think that we feel
pity for a dangerous agitator?” Khalil responded, “It
is true that I was a cattle grazier, but I am glad that I was not a
butcher. I led my herds to the rich pastures and never grazed them
on arid land. I led my animals to pure springs and kept them from
contaminated marshes. At eventide I brought them safely to their
shed and never left them in the valleys as prey for the wolves.
Thus I have treated the animals; and if you had pursued my course
and treated human beings as I treated my flock, these poor people
would not live in wretched huts and suffer the pangs of poverty,
while you are living like Nero in this gorgeous mansion.”
The Sheik’s forehead glittered with drops of perspiration,
and his smirk turned into anger, but he tried to show only calm by
pretending that he did not heed Khalil’s talk, and he
expostulated, pointing at Khalil with his finger, “You are a
heretic, and we shall not listen to your ridiculous talk; we
summoned you to be tried as a criminal, and you realize that you
are in the presence of the Lord off this village who is empowered
to represent his Excellency Emir Ameen Shehab. You are standing
before Father Elias, the representative of the Holy Church whose
teachings you have opposed. Now, defend yourself, or kneel down
before these people and we will pardon you and make you a cattle
grazier, as you were in the convent.” Khalil calmly returned,
“A criminal is not to be tried by another criminal, as an
atheist will not defend himself before sinners.” And Khalil
looked at the audience and spoke to them saying, “My
brethren, the man whom you call the Lord of your fields, and to
whom you have yielded thus long, has brought me to be tried before
you in this edifice which he built upon the graves of your
forefathers. And the man who became a pastor of your church through
your faith, has come to judge me and help to humiliate me and
increase my sufferings. You have hurried to this place from every
direction to see me suffer and hear me plead for mercy. You have
left your huts in order to witness your pinioned son and brother.
You have come to see the prey trembling between the paws of a
ferocious beast. You came here tonight to view an infidel standing
before the judges. I am the criminal and I am the heretic who has
been expelled from the convent. The tempest brought me into your
village. Listen to my protest, and do not be merciful, but be just,
for mercy is bestowed upon the guilty criminal, while justice is
all that an innocent man requires.
“I select you now as my jury, because the will of the people
is the will of God. Awaken your hearts and listen carefully and
then prosecute me according to the dictates of your conscience. You
have been told that I am an infidel, but you have not been informed
of what crime or sin I have committed. You have seen me tied like a
thief, but you have not heard about my offences, for wrongdoings
are not revealed in this court, while punishment comes out like
thunder. My crime, dear fellowmen, is my understanding of your
plight, for I felt the weight of the irons which have been placed
upon your necks. My sin is my heartfelt sorrows for your women; it
is my sympathy for your children who suck life from your breast
mixed with the shadow of death. I am one of you, and my forefathers
lived in these valleys and died under the same yolk which is
bending your heads now. I believe in God who listens to the call of
your suffering souls, and I believe in the Book that makes all of
us brothers before the face of heaven. I believe in the teachings
that make us all equal, and that render us unpinioned upon this
earth, the steeping place of the careful feet of God.
“As I was grazing my cows at the convent, and contemplating
the sorrowful condition you tolerate, I heard a desperate cry
coming from your miserable homes – a cry of oppressed souls
– a cry of broken hearts which are locked in your bodies as
slaves to the lord of these fields. As I looked, I found me in the
convent and you in the fields, and I saw you as a flock of lambs
following a wolf to the lair; and as I stopped in the middle of the
road to aid the lambs, I cried for help and the wolf snapped me
with his sharp teeth.
“I have sustained imprisonment, thirst, and hunger for the
sake of Truth that hurts only the body. I have undergone suffering
beyond endurance because I turned your sad sighs into a crying
voice that rang and echoed in every corner of the convent. I never
felt fear, and my heart never tired, for your painful cry was
injecting a new strength into me every day, and my heart was
healthy. You may ask yourself now saying, ‘When did we ever
cry for help, and who dares open his lips?’ But I say unto
you, your souls are crying every day, and pleading for help every
night, but you cannot hear them, for the dying man cannot hear his
own heart rattling, while those who are standing by his bedside can
surely hear. The slaughtered bird, in spite of his will, dances
painfully and unknowingly, but those who witness the dance know
what caused it. In what hour of the day do you sigh painfully? Is
it in the morning, when love of existence cries at you and tears
the veil of slumber off your eyes and leads you like slaves into
the fields? Is it at noon, when you wish to sit under a tree to
protect yourself from the burning sun? Or at eventide, when you
return home hungry, wishing for sustaining food instead of a meagre
morsel and impure water? Or at night when fatigue throws you upon
your rough bed, and as soon as slumber closes your eyes, you sit up
with open eyes, fearing that the Sheik’s voice is ringing in
your ears?
“In what season of the year do you not lament yourselves? Is
it in Spring, when nature puts on her beautiful dress and you go to
meet her with tattered raiment? Or in Summer, when you harvest the
wheat and gather the sheaves of corn and fill the shelves of your
master with the crop, and when the reckoning comes you receive
naught but hay and tare? Is it in Autumn, when you pick the fruits
and carry the grapes into the wine-press, and in reward for your
toil you receive a jar of vinegar and a bushel of acorns? Or in
Winter, when you are confined to your huts laden with snow, do you
sit by the fire and tremble when the enraged sky urges you to
escape from your weak minds?
“This is the life of the poor; this is the perpetual cry I
hear. This is what makes my spirit revolt against the oppressors
and despise their conduct. When I asked the monks to have mercy
upon you, they thought that I was an atheist, and expulsion was my
lot. Today I came here to share this miserable life with you, and
to mix my tears with yours. Here I am now, in the grip of your
worst enemy. Do you realize that this land you are working like
slaves was taken from your fathers when the law was written on the
sharp edge of the sword? The monks deceived your ancestors and took
all their fields and vineyards when the religious rules were
written on the lips of the priests. Which man or woman is not
influenced by the lord of the fields to do according to the will of
the priests? God said, ‘With the sweat of thy brow, thou
shall eat thy bread.’ But Sheik Abbas is eating his bread
baked in the years of your lives and drinking his wine mixed with
your tears. Did God distinguish this man from the rest of you while
in his mother’s womb? Or is it your sin that made you his
property? Jesus said, ‘Gratis you have taken and gratis you
shall give. . . . Do not possess gold, nor silver, neither
copper.’ Then what teachings allow the clergymen to sell
their prayers for pieces of gold and silver? In the silence of the
night you pray saying, ‘Give us today our daily bread.’
God has given you this land from which to draw your daily bread,
but what authority has He given the monks to take his land and this
bread away from you?
“You curse Judas because he sold his Master for a few pieces
of silver, but you bless those who sell Him every day. Judas
repented and hanged himself for his wrongdoing, but these priests
walk proudly, dressed with beautiful robes, resplendent with
shining crosses hanging over their chest. You teach your children
to love Christ and at the same time you instruct them to obey those
who oppose His teachings and violate His law.
“The apostles of Christ were stoned to death in order to
revive in you the Holy Spirit, but the monks and the priests are
killing that spirit in you so they may live on your pitiful bounty.
What persuades you to live such a life in this universe, full of
misery and oppression? What prompts you to kneel before that
horrible idol which has been erected upon the bones of your
fathers? What treasure are you reserving for your posterity?
“Your souls are in the grip of the priests, and your bodies
are in the closing jaws of the rulers. What thing in life can you
point at and say ‘this is mine!’ My fellowmen, do you
know the priest you fear? He is a traitor who uses the Gospel as a
threat to ransom your money. . . a hypocrite wearing a cross and
using it as a sword to cut your veins. . . a wolf disguised in
lambskin. . . a glutton who respects the tables more than the
altars. . . a gold-hungry creature who follows the Denar to the
farthest land. . . a cheat pilfering from widows and orphans. He is
a queer being, with an eagle’s beak, a tiger’s
clutches, a hyena’s teeth and a viper’s clothes. Take
the Book away from him and tear his raiment off and pluck his beard
and do whatever you wish unto him; then place in his hand one
Denar, and he will forgive you smilingly.
“Slap his face and spit on him and step on his neck; then
invite him to sit at your board. He will immediately forget and
untie his belt and gladly fill his stomach with your food.
“Curse him and ridicule him; then send him a jar of wine or a
basket of fruit. He will forgive you your sins. When he sees a
woman, he turns his face, saying, ‘Go from me, Oh, daughter
of Babylon.’ Then he whispers to himself saying,
‘Marriage is better than coveting.’ He sees the young
men and women walking in the procession of Love, and he lifts his
eyes toward heaven and says, ‘Vanity of vanities, all is
vanity.’ And in his solitude he talks to himself saying,
‘May the laws and traditions that deny me the joys of life,
be abolished.’
“He preaches to the people saying, ‘Judge not, lest ye
be judged.’ But he judges all those who abhor his deeds and
sends them to hell before Death separates them from this life.
“When he talks he lifts his head toward heaven, but at the
same time, his thoughts are crawling like snakes through your
pockets.
“He addresses you as beloved children, but his heart is empty
of paternal love, and his lips never smile at a child, nor does he
carry an infant between his arms.
“He tells you, while shaking his head, ‘Let us keep
away from earthly things, for life passes like a cloud.’ But
if you look thoroughly at him, you will find that he is gripping on
to life, lamenting the passing of yesterday, condemning the speed
of today, and waiting fearfully for tomorrow.
“He asks you for charity when he has plenty to give; if you
grant his request, he will bless you publicly, and if you refuse
him, he will curse you secretly.
“In the temple he asks you to help the needy, and about his
house the needy are begging for bread, but he cannot see or
hear.
“He sells his prayers, and he who does not buy is an infidel,
excommunicated from Paradise.
“This is the creature of whom you are afraid. This is the
monk who sucks your blood. This is the priest who makes the sign of
the Cross with the right hand, and clutches your throat with the
left hand.
“This is the pastor whom you appoint as your servant, but he
appoints himself as your master.
“This is the shadow that embraces your souls from birth until
death.
“This is the man who came to judge me tonight because my
spirit revolted against the enemies of Jesus the Nazarene Who loved
all and called us brothers, and Who died on the Cross for
us.”
Khalil felt that there was understanding in the villagers’
hearts; his voice brightened and he resumed his discourse saying,
“Brethren, you know that Sheik Abbas has been appointed as
Master of this village by Emir Shehab, the Sultan’s
representative and Governor of the Province, but I ask you if
anyone has seen that power appoint the Sultan as the god of this
country. That Power, my fellowmen, cannot be seen, nor can you hear
it talk, but you can feel its existence in the depths of your
hearts. It is that Power which you worship and pray for every day
saying, ‘Our Father which art in heaven.’ Yes, your
Father Who is in heaven is the one Who appoints Kings and princes,
for He is powerful and above all. But do you think that your
Father, Who loved you and showed you the right path through His
prophets, desires for you to be oppressed? Do you believe that God,
Who brings forth the rain from heaven, and the wheat from the
hidden seeds in the heart of the earth, desires for you to be
hungry in order that but one man will enjoy His bounty? Do you
believe that the Eternal Spirit Who reveals to you the wife’s
love, the children’s pity and the neighbour’s mercy,
would have upon you a tyrant to enslave you through your life? Do
you believe that the Eternal Law that made life beautiful, would
send you a man to deny you of that happiness and lead you into the
dark dungeon of painful Death? Do you believe that your physical
strength, provided you by nature, belongs beyond your body to the
rich?
“You cannot believe in all these things, because if you do
you will be denying the justice of God who made us all equal, and
the light of Truth that shines upon all people of the earth. What
makes you struggle against yourselves, heart against body, and help
those who enslave you while God has created you free on this
earth?
“Are you doing yourselves justice when you lift your eyes
towards Almighty God and call him Father, and then turn around, bow
your heads before a man, and call him Master?
“Are you contented, as sons of God, with being slaves of man?
Did not Christ call you brethren? Yet Sheik Abbas calls you
servants. Did not Jesus make you free in Truth and Spirit? Yet the
Emir made you slaves of shame and corruption. Did not Christ exalt
you to heaven? Then why are you descending to hell? Did He not
enlighten your hearts? Then why are you hiding your souls in
darkness? God has placed a glowing torch in your hearts that glows
in knowledge and beauty, and seeks the secrets of the days and
nights; it is a sin to extinguish that torch and bury it in ashes.
God has created your spirits with wings to fly in the spacious
firmament of Love and Freedom; it is pitiful that you cut your
wings with your own hands and suffer your spirits to crawl like
insects upon the earth.”
Sheik Abbas observed in dismay the attentiveness of the villagers,
and attempted to interrupt, but Khalil, inspired, continued,
“God has sown in your hearts the seeds of Happiness; it is a
crime that you dig those seeds out and throw them wilfully on the
rocks so the wind will scatter them and the birds will pick them.
God has given you children to rear, to teach them the truth and
fill their hearts with the most precious things of existence. He
wants you to bequeath upon them the joy of Life and the bounty of
Life; why are they now strangers to their place of birth and cold
creatures before the face of the Sun? A father who makes his son a
slave is the father who gives his child a stone when he asks for
bread. Have you not seen the birds of the sky training their young
ones to fly? Why, then, do you teach your children to drag the
shackles of slavery? Have you not seen the flowers of the valleys
deposit their seeds in the sun-heated earth? Then why do you commit
your children to the cold darkness?”
Silence prevailed for a moment, and it seemed as if Khalil’s
mind were crowded with pain. But now with a low and compelling
voice he continued, “The words which I utter tonight are the
same expressions that caused my expulsion from the convent. If the
lord of your fields and the pastor of your church were to prey upon
me and kill me tonight, I will die happy and in peace because I
have fulfilled my mission and revealed to you the Truth which
demons consider a crime. I have now completed the will of the
Almighty God.”
There had been a magic message in Khalil’s voice that forced
the villagers’ interest. The women were moved by the
sweetness of peace, and their eyes were rich with tears.
Sheik Abbas and Father Elias were shaking with anger. As Khalil
finished, he walked a few steps and stopped near Rachel and Miriam.
Silence dominated the courtroom, and it seemed as if Khalil’s
spirit hovered in that vast hall and diverted the souls of the
multitude from fearing Sheik Abbas and Father Elias, who sat
trembling in annoyance and guilt.
The Sheik stood suddenly and his face was pale. He looked toward
the men who were standing about him as he said, “What has
become of you, dogs? have your hearts been poisoned? Has you blood
stopped running and weakened you so that you cannot leap upon this
criminal and cut him to pieces? What awful thing has he done to
you?” Having finished reprimanding the men, he raised a sword
and started toward the fettered youth.
The Sheik trembled visibly and the sword fell from his hand. He
addressed the man saying, “Will a weak servant oppose his
Master and benefactor?” And the man responded, “The
faithful servant does not share his Master in the committing of
crimes; this young man has spoken naught but the truth.”
Another man stepped forward and assured, “This man is
innocent and is worthy of honour and respect.” And a woman
raised her voice saying, “He did not swear at God or curse
any saint; why do you call him heretic?” And Rachel asked,
“What is his crime?” The Sheik shouted, “You are
rebellious, you miserable widow; have you forgotten the fate of
your husband who turned rebel six years ago?” Upon hearing
these impulsive words, Rachel shivered with painful anger, for she
had found the murderer of her husband. She choked her tears and
looked upon the throng and cried out, “Here is the criminal
you have been trying for six years to find; you hear him now
confessing his guilt. He is the killer who has been hiding his
crime. Look at him and read his face; study him well and observe
his fright; he shivers like the last leaf on winter’s tree.
God has shown you that the Master whom you have always feared is a
murderous criminal. He caused me to be a widow amongst these women,
and my daughter an orphan amidst these children.”
Rachel’s utterance fell like thunder upon the Sheik’s
head, and the uproar of men and exaltation of women fell like
firebrands upon him.
The priest assisted the Sheik to his seat. Then he called the
servants and ordered them saying, “Arrest this woman who has
falsely accused your Master of killing her husband; drag her and
this young man into a dark prison, and any who oppose you will be
criminals, excommunicated as he was from the Holy Church.”
The servants gave no heed to his command, but remained motionless
staring at Khalil who was still bound with rope. Rachel stood at
his right and Miriam at his left like a pair of wings ready to soar
aloft into the spacious sky of Freedom.
His beard shaking with anger, Father Elias said, “Are you
denying your Master for the sake of an infidel criminal and a
shameless adulteress?” And the oldest one of the servants
answered him saying, “We have served Sheik Abbas long for
bread and shelter, but we have never been his slaves.” Having
thus spoken, the servant took off his cloak and turban and threw
them before the Sheik and added, “I shall no longer require
this raiment, nor do I wish my soul to suffer in the narrow house
of a criminal.” And all the servants did likewise and joined
the crowd whose faces radiated with joy, symbol of Freedom and
Truth. Father Elias finally saw that his authority had declined,
and left the place cursing the hour that brought Khalil to the
village. A strong man strode to Khalil and untied his hands, looked
at Sheik Abbas who fell like a corpse upon his seat, and boldly
addressed him saying, “This fettered youth, whom you have
brought here tonight to be tried as a criminal, has lifted our
depressed spirits and enlightened our hearts with Truth and
Knowledge. And this poor widow whom Father Elias referred to as a
false accuser has revealed to us the crime you committed six years
past. We came here tonight to witness the trial of an innocent
youth and a noble soul. Now, heaven has opened our eyes and has
shown us your atrocity; we shall leave you and ignore you and allow
heaven to do its will.”
Many voices were raised in that hall, and one could hear a certain
man saying, “Let us leave this ill-famed residence for our
homes.” And another one remarking, “Let us follow this
young man to Rachel’s home and listen to his wise sayings and
consoling wisdom.” And a third one saying, “Let us seek
his advice, for he knows our needs.” And a fourth one calling
out, “If we are seeking justice, let us complain to the Emir
and tell him of Abbas’ crime.” And many were saying,
“Let us petition the Emir to appoint Khalil as our Master and
ruler, and tell the Bishop that Father Elias was a partner in these
crimes.” While the voices were rising and falling upon the
Sheik’s ears like sharp arrows, Khalil lifted his hands and
calmed the villagers saying, “My brethren, do not seek haste,
but rather listen and meditate. I ask you, in the name of my love
and friendship for you, not to go to the Emir, for you will not
find justice. Remember that a ferocious beast does not snap another
one like him, neither should you go to the Bishop, for he knows
well that the house cloven amid itself shall be ruined. Do not ask
the Emir to appoint me as the Sheik in this village, for the
faithful servant does not like to be an aid to the evil Master. If
I deserve your kindness and love, let me live amongst you and share
with you the happiness and sorrows of Life. Let me join hands and
work with you at home and in the fields, for if I could not make
myself one of you, I would be a hypocrite who does not live
according to his sermon. And now, as the axe is laid unto the root
of the tree, let us leave Sheik Abbas alone in the courtroom of his
conscience and before the Supreme Court of God whose sun shines
upon the innocent and the criminal.”
Having thus spoken, he left the place, and the multitude followed
him as if there were a divine power in him that attracted their
hearts. The Sheik remained alone with the terrible silence, like a
destroyed tower, suffering his defeat quietly like a surrendering
commander. When the multitude reached the church yard and the moon
was just showing from behind the cloud, Khalil looked at them with
the eyes of love like a good shepherd watching over his herd. He
was moved with sympathy upon these villagers who symbolized an
oppressed nation; and he stood like a prophet who saw all the
nations of the East walking in those valleys and dragging empty
souls and heavy hearts.
He raised both hands toward heaven and said, “From the bottom
of these depths we call thee, Oh, Liberty. Give heed to us! From
behind the darkness we raise our hands to thee, Oh, Liberty. Look
upon us! Upon the snow, we worship before thee, Oh, Liberty. Have
mercy on us! Before thy great throne we stand, hanging on our
bodies the blood-stained garments of our forefathers, covering our
heads with the dust of the graves mixed with their remains,
carrying the swords that stabbed their hearts, lifting the spears
that pierced their bodies, dragging the chains that slowed their
feet, uttering the cry that wounded their throats, lamenting and
repeating the song of our failure that echoed throughout the
prison, and repeating the prayers that came from the depths of our
fathers’ hearts. Listen to us, Oh, Liberty, and hear us. From
the Nile to the Euphrates comes the wailing of the suffering souls,
in unison with the cry of the abyss; and from the end of the East
to the mountains of Lebanon, hands are stretched to you, trembling
with the presence of Death. From the shores of the sea to the end
of the desert, tear-flooded eyes look beseechingly toward you.
Come, Oh Liberty, and save us.
“In the wretched huts standing in the shadow of poverty and
oppression, they beat at their bosoms, soliciting thy mercy; watch
us, Oh Liberty, and have mercy on us. In the pathways and in the
houses miserable youth calls thee; in the churches and the mosques,
the forgotten Book turns to thee; in the courts and in the palaces
the neglected Law appeals to thee. Have mercy on us, Oh Liberty,
and save us. In our narrow streets the merchant sells his days in
order to make tribute to the exploiting thieves of the West, and
none would give him advice. In the barren fields the fellah tills
the soil and sows the seeds of his heart and nourishes them with
his tears, but he reaps naught except thorns, and none would teach
him the true path. In our arid plains the Bedouin roams barefoot
and hungry, but none would have mercy upon him; speak, Oh Liberty,
and teach us! Our sick lambs are grazing upon the grassless
prairie, our calves are gnawing on the roots of the trees, and our
horses are feeding on dry plants. Come, Oh Liberty, and help us. We
have been living in darkness since the beginning, and like
prisoners they take us from one prison to another, while time
ridicules our plight. When will dawn come? Until when shall we bear
the scorn of the ages? Many a stone have we been dragging, and many
a yoke has been placed upon our necks. Until when shall we bear
this human outrage? The Egyptian slavery, the Babylon exile, the
tyranny of Persia, the despotism of the Romans, and the greed of
Europe . . . all these things have we suffered. Where are we going
now, and when shall we reach the sublime end of the rough roadway?
From the clutches of Pharaoh to the paws of Nebuchadnezzar, to the
iron hands of Alexander, to the swords of Herod, to the talons of
Nero, and the sharp teeth of Demon . . . into whose hands are we
now to fall, and when will Death come and take us, so we may rest
at last?
“With the strength of our arms we lifted the columns of the
temple, and upon our backs we carried the mortar to build the great
walls and the impregnable pyramids for the sake of glory. Until
when shall we continue building such magnificent palaces and living
in wretched huts? Until when shall we continue filling the bins of
the rich with provisions, while sustaining weak life on dry
morsels? Until when shall we continue weaving silk and wool for our
lords and masters while we wear naught except tattered
swaddles?
“Through their wickedness we were divided amongst ourselves;
and the better to keep their thrones and be at ease, they armed the
Druze to fight the Arab, and stirred up the Shiite to attack the
Sunnite, and encouraged the Kurdish to butcher the Bedouin, and
cheered the Mohammedan to dispute with the Christian. Until when
shall a brother continue killing his own brother upon his
mother’s bosom? Until when shall the Cross be kept apart from
the Crescent before the eyes of God? Oh Liberty, hear us, and speak
in behalf of but one individual, for a great fire is started with a
small spark. Oh Liberty, awaken but one heart with the rustling of
thy wings, for from one cloud alone comes the lightning which
illuminates the pits of the valleys and the tops of the mountains.
Disperse with thy power these black clouds and descend like thunder
and destroy the thrones that were built upon the bones and skulls
of our ancestors.”
“Hear us, Oh Liberty; Bring mercy, Oh Daughter of Athens;
Rescue us, Oh Sister of Rome; Advise us, Oh Companion of Moses;
Help us, Oh Beloved of Mohammed ; Teach us, Oh Bride of Jesus;
Strengthen our hearts so we may live; Or harden our enemies so we
may perish And live in peace eternally.”
As Khalil was pouring forth his sentiment before heaven, the
villagers were gazing at him in reverence, and their love was
springing forth in unison with the song of his voice until they
felt that he became part of their hearts. After a short silence,
Khalil brought his eyes upon the multitude and quietly said,
“Night has brought us to the house of Sheik Abbas in order to
realize the daylight; oppression has arrested us before the cold
Space, so we may understand one another and gather like chicks
under the wings of the Eternal Spirit. Now let us go to our homes
and sleep until we meet again tomorrow.”
Having thus spoken, he walked away, following Rachel and Miriam to
their poor hovel. The throng departed and each went to his home,
contemplating what he had seen and heard this memorable night. They
felt that a burning torch of a new spirit had scoured their inner
selves and led them into the right path. In an hour all the lamps
were extinguished and Silence engulfed the whole village while
Slumber carried the fellahin’s souls into the world of strong
dreams; but Sheik Abbas found no sleep all night, as he watched the
phantoms of darkness and the horrible ghosts of his crimes in
procession.
Two months had already passed and Khalil was still preaching and
pouring his sentiments in the villagers’ hearts, reminding
them of their usurped rights and showing them the greed and
oppression of the rulers and the monks. They listened to him with
care for he was a source of pleasure; his words fell upon their
hearts like rain upon thirsty land. In their solitude, they
repeated Khalil’s sayings as they did their daily prayers.
Father Elias commenced fawning upon them to regain their
friendship; he became docile since the villagers found out that he
was the Sheik’s ally in crime, and the fellahin ignored
him.
Sheik Abbas had a nervous suffering, and walked through his mansion
like a caged tiger. He issued commands to his servants, but no one
answered except the echo of his voice inside the marble walls. He
shouted at his men, but no one came to his aid except his poor wife
who suffered the pang of his cruelty as much as the villagers did.
When Lent came and Heaven announced the coming of Spring, the days
of the Sheik expired with the passing of Winter. He died after a
long agony, and his soul was carried away on the carpet of his
deeds to stand naked and shivering before that high Throne whose
existence we feel, but cannot see. The fellahin heard various tales
about the manner of Sheik Abbas’ death; some of them related
that the Sheik died insane, while others insisted that
disappointment and despair drove him to death by his own hand. But
the women who went to offer their sympathies to his wife reported
that he died from fear, because the ghost of Samaan Ramy hunted him
and drove him every midnight out to the place where Rachel’s
husband was found slain six years before.
The month of Nisan proclaimed to the villagers the love secrets of
Khalil and Miriam. They rejoiced the good tidings which assured
them that Khalil would thereby remain in their village. As the news
reached all the inhabitants of the huts, they congratulated one
another upon Khalil’s becoming their beloved neighbour.
When harvest time came, the fellahin went to the fields and
gathered the sheaves of corn and bundles of wheat to the threshing
floor. Sheik Abbas was not there to take the crop and have it
carried to his bins. Each fellah harvested his own crop; the
villagers’ huts were filled with good wine and corn; their
vessels were replenished with good wine and oil. Khalil shared with
them their toils and happiness; he helped them in gathering the
crop, pressing the grapes and picking the fruits. He never
distinguished himself from any one of them except by his excess of
love and ambition. Since that year and up to our present time, each
fellah in that village commenced to reap with joy the crop which he
sowed with toil and labour. The land which the fellahin tilled and
the vineyards they cultivated became their own property.
Now, half a century has passed since this incident, and the
Lebanese have awakened.
On his way to the Holy Cedars of Lebanon, a traveller’s
attention is caught by the beauty of that village, standing like a
bride at the side of the valley. The wretched huts are now
comfortable and happy homes surrounded by fertile fields and
blooming orchards. If you ask any one of the residents about Sheik
Abbas’ history, he will answer you, pointing with his finger
to a heap of demolished stones and destroyed walls saying,
“This is the Sheik’s palace, and this is the history of
his life.” And if you inquire about Khalil, he will raise his
hand toward heaven saying, “There resides our beloved Khalil,
whose life’s history was written by God with glittering
letters upon the pages of our hearts, and they cannot be effaced by
the ages.”
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