Printed in the Spring 2023 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Sorkhabi, Rasoul, "Moses and the Shepherd: Rumi’s Parable on Two Approaches to God" Quest 111:2, pg 36-37
By Rasoul Sorkhabi
During the last decade of his life, “having fully burned” (in his own words) in the ecstasy of life, love and poetry, Rumi, the thirteenth-century Persian Sufi poet, composed a seven-volume book of parables in verse. He called it Masnavi Maa’navi: “Rhyming Couplets on Spiritual Matters.” In the second volume of this book, Rumi narrates the story of Moses and the shepherd, consisting of 192 lines. I first read this story in my Persian literature book in the 1970s as a young boy growing up in Iran. The story is simple, but its practical understanding takes on a life of its own as one lives long enough to encounter various cultures, faiths, and peoples. Seven centuries after its composition, in our age of globalization, the parable of Moses and the shepherd illuminates more than before the question of how (or perhaps how-less) to approach God. What makes it more significant is that unlike many of the parables in the Masnavi, which Rumi borrowed from other literary sources before him, this story appears to come from the creative imagination of Rumi himself. This story must have had a special significance in his mind.
One day Moses was walking along a country road when he heard a shepherd singing to God: “O God, where are you? Present yourself to me. I want to devote my entire life to you. I will sew shoes for you, comb your hair, wash your clothes, groom you of lice, give you milk to drink, kiss your hands, massage your feet, and at bedtime make your bed.”
Moses was stunned to hear these words. He went over to the shepherd and asked, “Whom are you talking to?” The shepherd answered, “I am singing to the one who created this earth and all the stars above.”
Moses said, “What nonsense! What blasphemy! Shut your mouth at once. Do you think God is your old uncle or your sheep? Shoes and clothes are for humans. Even humans will be offended if you address them improperly: if you call a man by a female name or vice versa, he or she will rebuke you. Don’t talk foolishly. God is not born, nor does he give birth to, as humans do. Shut your mouth before the fire of God’s wrath engulfs the world.”
The shepherd became very sad and departed with a cry. Soon after, a revelation came to Moses from God: “O Moses, what have you done? You separated one of my creatures from me. I have sent you to unite, not to divide. I have given different languages to different peoples. What the shepherd was singing was unpleasant to you, but it was pleasant to me. People address and praise me in various tongues. Their words do not really glorify me, but only purify them. I do not size up the appearance or the words; I look inside and see the heart. The fire of the heart burns thoughts and produces fiery words. O Moses, lovers are not the same as those who merely observe rituals. The religion of lovers is separate from all forms of religion. For lovers, God is religion itself.”
Moses was made restless by this revelation, for it poured a new vision into his heart. He ran after the shepherd and found him. “Good news, my friend,” Moses said. “I have brought you a new teaching: when you are addressing God, let your heart sing; do not limit your words by rules and customs. Your apparent blasphemy coming from your heart is very religion itself, for it carries the light of the heart. Sing to God in whatever words that are sweet to your heart.”
The shepherd looked at Moses with gratitude and said, “Moses, that’s past; I have passed it too. Your scolding made the horse of my soul fly higher—above than the earth and the stars. Now I have reached the speechless depths of my heart.”
In interpreting the story of Moses and the shepherd, Sufis say that when we think about God, there are two approaches: One is tash’bih (“likening”): relating to God through analogue, symbol, and imagery. The other is tan’zih (“aloofness and purity”): dissociating God from any image, symbol, or physical resemblance. These two approaches have been articulated as those of a personal versus impersonal, immanent versus transcendental God. The first path is psychological faith of a person who feels an intimate connection to God through symbols and images. The second path is philosophical faith in an abstract and aloof concept of God. There are valid points and truthfulness in both of these approaches. If God is infinite and omnipresent, then he or she can also be approached through a physical symbol dear and near to our heart. If God is almighty and universal, he or she can also be personal. The infinite always contains finite things as well. The higher envelops the ones below, just as the deep ocean supports all the shallow waters.
Humans need both of these paths to God; personal, through symbols, and transcendent. But as Rumi illustrates, the danger is that the follower of one path may think that other paths are wrong and thus confine God to his or her own lens. Someone whose faith in God is crystallized in a particular symbol or ritual may dismiss other symbols and rituals (or no symbols and no rituals) as invalid.
In Rumi’s story, both Moses, the prophet, and the shepherd, a simple village man, are awakened; they both come to recognize each other’s approach. This realization, this mutual understanding, is possible only if we are sincere and our heart is open, because both the personal God and the impersonal God reside in our heart.
Rasoul Sorkhabi, PhD, is a professor at the University of Utah and director of the Rumi Poetry Club. He has lived in Iran, India, Japan, and the United States. He has published a translation of Rumi’s quatrains, Rumi: The Art of Loving (2012). This article is his fifth contribution to Quest. One of his previous articles, “Garden of Secrets: The Real Rumi,” appeared in the summer 2010 issue.