Souls On Fire

De Simple Silence.

[modifier] Rabia Of Basra (717-801)

Dear God, whatever You have set aside for me of worldly things, give to those who fear and reject You. Whatever You have prepared for me in the next world, give to Your friends and admirers. For You, my Love, are all I want. — a prayer of Rabia

In the latter part of the twentieth century, the city of Basra, Iraq’s only seaport, has been much in the news, especially during the war with Iraq. But twelve and a half centuries ago, Basra was best known for reasons that had nothing to do with oil wells or air strikes. Basra was a major trading center even then and was famous for its delicious dates, which grew to perfection in the 120 degree temperature.

Among residents of Basra in those days, their city had a claim to fame that was too special, and too personal, to be divulged to visitors except on a one-to-one basis. The city of Basra was said to be the home of the most beautiful woman in the world. Her name was Rabia, and she lived in a brothel. People spoke of Rabia in hushed, reverent voices, and outsiders seldom learned the special secret behind Rabia’s presence in such a place.

The secret was that Rabia was not only the epitome of beauty ; she was the soul of purity and grace. She was, in fact, a saint.

These incredible facts of Rabia’s life were revealed in the twentieth century by Avatar Meher Baba to his close disciples. Rabia was one of Meher Baba’s favorite saints, and one to whom he had a close connection. According to Meher Baba, Rabia achieved God-realization in a later lifetime (in the 19^th century, in fact) as Babajan of Poona, who is featured in a later chapter.

Rabia lived in a very difficult time in history, the century following the life and death of Mohammed the Prophet. Mohammed died in 632 A.D., and a period of turmoil, upheaval and spiritual renewal came to the Arab world. As the star of Islam rose over the Middle East, the ancient religion of Zoroastrianism was on the wane. In Persia, the followers of Zoroaster were being persecuted by the militant Muslims, and many Zoroastrians fled to India and Pakistan, where they established their identity as Parsees. At the same time, mysticism was flowering in the Persian Gulf region and would in time produce the greatest poet-mystics the world has ever known—Attar, Rumi and Hafiz, among others.

As in all periods of spiritual awakening, nature also went on a rampage, bringing earthquakes, drought and plagues. This was the world into which Rabia was born in 717 A.D.

Rabia means « fourth, » and she was the fourth daughter of a poverty-stricken family in Basra, which lies near the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, where, according to Biblical scholars, the Garden of Eden was located. Rabia was still a tiny child when both of her parents died in a famine. The sisters became separated, and Rabia wandered, hungry and homeless, until a peddler seized her and sold her to a slave-trader.

Rabia’s first slave-master was a tyrant who drove her mercilessly. But Rabia, even as a girl, was sustained by remarkable inner strength, and she accepted everything that happened to her as the will of God. Despite the harshness of her life, she radiated serenity and purity.

At the age of twelve, Rabia was returning from the fields with a pitcher of goat’s milk on her head when a ruffian attacked her. Running into a gulley, she fell, spraining her wrist and spilling the milk. Seeing that escape was impossible, she inwardly called out for God’s help and immediately felt His grace flow through her. In the silence of her heart she heard God say that He was always with her and would protect her.

She rose and calmly faced her assailant who, frightened by the strange light in the girl’s eyes, ran away without harming her. When she returned home, her master flew into a rage and beat her for spilling the milk. Shortly after this, he sold her to a merchant.

Her new owner was more considerate than her old one, but he required her to do all the cleaning, cooking and errands for a large household. Her only time to herself was late at night when everyone else was asleep. One morning before dawn, the merchant woke to hear his slave’s voice raised in prayer. Creeping toward the sound, he saw her kneeling in a tiny meditation space she had created. Above her head was a light that illuminated the room. Rabia was saying, « Dear Lord, you know I want to serve only You. Must I serve both You and a man? »

God removes her bonds of slavery

Shaken, the merchant returned to his bed. The next day he gave Rabia her freedom, and she walked into the desert seeking solitude with her Divine Beloved. For a time she lived alone in a cave, communing with God and playing her flute. When she needed food, she emerged to earn money playing her music.

Rabia grew to become a beautiful woman with luminous eyes and finely chiseled features. A brothel keeper who heard her music offered her a position at his establishment, and she accepted. He was sure that her unearthly beauty would attract many men, and in this he was not disappointed. Men, indeed, were always drawn to Rabia, but her only lover was God.

When traveling merchants heard that the world’s most beautiful woman was to be found in a Basra brothel, they were naturally intrigued. Often, they could not rest until they saw the woman. Whether they went merely to see her, or with the intention of buying her favors, the result was always much the same. They were so struck by her pure countenance and inner glow that they fell at her feet, sobbing, or they left in confusion and shame. Many came for the sole purpose of feasting their eyes on her and listening to her stories about God and God’s love. Often they left transformed.

Working in a brothel for the glory of God

Meher Baba told a beautiful story of Rabia’s life in the brothel, and how she touched men’s lives through her beauty and purity. Baba’s close disciple Eruch Jessawala related the story as follows :

In the days of Rabia, it so happens that a young man from Shiraz, in Iran, comes to Basra on business. He is interested in seeing all the sights, so he asks everyone he meets about the special features of the city. They tell him of their gardens, their groves of date palms, and their fountains.

« Yes, yes, » he replies, « I have been to many places and I have seen such things. But is there anything really special, or unique, about this place? »

After a pause, his informant says, « Yes, there is. »

« What is it? »

« The most beautiful woman on earth. »

The young man laughs. « There are many beautiful women in Iran, too. »

« But not like this one. »

Still grinning, the visitor shrugs and departs. Later he puts the same question to the manager of a store. The shopkeeper thinks for a moment and then nods his head.

« Yes, » he replies. « There is a very special person here. A lady. You have never heard of her. She is called Rabia of Basra. »

« Oh, is that so? Who is this Rabia of Basra, and what is so special about her? »

« She is one whose beauty surpasses all beauty. »

« Is that a fact? Well, where would I go to see this beautiful Rabia? »

« She lives in a brothel. »

« Ha! » The visitor rolls his eyes. « I’ve heard that story before. In Iran we have prostitutes, too. »

« Oh, but this woman is different. »

« That’s what they all say! » Laughing, the young man goes on his way. But wherever he goes and asks questions, he hears the name « Rabia. » He is not interested in finding a prostitute, but he is intrigued because there is never a trace of vulgarity in the remarks about the lovely woman. Yet the whole city seems awed by her beauty. Finally he decides he must see her. He goes to the brothel, where he is greeted by a matron, who asks him what he wants.

He replies that he is a traveler from Iran, and he wants to see Rabia of Basra.

« Oh, I see. Are you prepared to pay the fee? »

« Yes, yes. I’ll pay the fee. I have money. »

« The fee is exorbitant. »

« I don’t mind. Whatever it costs. »

He pays the fee and she takes him to a comfortable suite, where he takes a seat. He sees no one. After a while he walks about the room and notices, in a side room, a figure knelt in prayer. Her beauty takes his breath away. How could such a lovely, obviously spiritual lady be living in such a place as this? It would surely be a sin, he thinks, to touch her in a carnal way. At the same time, he is excited by her nearness and her overpowering presence, and he cannot take his eyes off her.

Finally she rises from her prayers and greets him with a gentle smile, and he feels an aching in his heart. Her voice is like music as she says, « I am sorry to keep you waiting. You must be hungry. » She claps her hands, and her attendants come. « Bring our special feast for this gentleman. He is our guest tonight. Would you like a glass of wine? What kind of beverage do you prefer? »

« Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anything, » he says. He thinks : It is good that she is not too absorbed in prayer. She offers me food and drink…and she certainly is as beautiful as they say!

During the lavish meal, he opens up his heart and tells her all about himself. She listens carefully to his stories of his life and travels. As he talks, he drinks in her beauty. She asks him about his visit to Basra, and if he has seen all the sights.

He smiles. « Yes, and everywhere I went I was told of your beauty. That’s why I’m here. I had to see you for myself. »

« I’m glad you came. But after all, what is this beauty that people talk about? It is all a passing show. I will grow old and have wrinkles, just as you will. »

And then she speaks of the love and beauty of God, and how God’s beauty never fades but only grows and increases. « The goal of life is to love God and become His own, » she says. The young man is enchanted by her lilting voice and her soulful eyes, and he hangs on every word as she talks on until the early hours of the morning. By that time, he is her devoted slave, and he has forgotten that he had harbored lustful desires for her.

With tears in his eyes he thanks her for the most wonderful evening he had ever spent. « If I can ever do anything for you, dear Rabia, » he said, « please tell me. »

She smiles. « I have one request. »

« Just ask. Anything I have is yours. My wealth. Anything you wish. »

« Just one little thing is all I ask. Never tell anyone what you have heard here. Allow the people to come to me. This beauty is only a trap set for them. God has put me here for His purposes. Promise me you will never tell. »

« Oh, I see! » he says. « That is the secret of this place. The whole city celebrates your beauty. Yet nobody told me the secret behind it. »

She nods. « I extract the promise from everyone who comes. My beauty is my strength to fight in the cause of the Lord. »

Her followers increase

The time came when Rabia’s devotees built her a retreat on a hillside, and she left the brothel. With each passing year, the number of her followers increased.

One of her disciples was Hasan of Basra, who would also be recognized as a Sufi saint. Once Hasan was chided by a friend for being the disciple of a woman. Hasan shrugged and replied : « Would you believe that I spent an entire day and night with the beautiful Rabia, speaking of the Way and the Truth, and never once did it cross my mind that Rabia was a woman and I was a man? »

In the twelfth century, four hundred years after Rabia, the famous poet Attar wrote a book called Memoirs of the Saints, which is the oldest known Persian book about saints. To Attar we are indebted for many of the stories about Rabia.

Attar tells of a pilgrimage Rabia made to Mecca with only a donkey for company. While crossing the Arabian desert, the donkey collapsed and expired. Rabia removed her belongings from the animal’s back and then knelt to pray. « Beloved God, » she said, « You are calling me to You, but You have let my donkey die. I am alone in the wilderness. Tell me what You wish me to do. » The donkey stirred and slowly got to its feet. Rabia repacked her things on the animal’s back and continued on her way. As she neared Mecca, she saw a black cubical building coming to meet her. It was the sacred Kaaba, the Muslim holy of holies and the mystical center of the world of Islam. The Kaaba is believed to contain the famous black stone that the angel Gabriel is said to have given to Abraham.

Watching the Kaaba approach, Rabia said, « I am not interested in the house of the Lord. It is the Lord I want. » Instantly the Kaaba retreated and disappeared.

She has no interest in money or marriage

During her long lifetime, Rabia had many suitors. A wealthy trader from Baghdad begged for her hand, offering to match her weight with gold and jewels. In answer to his letter of proposal, she wrote : « It does not please me that you would be my slave or would lavish your riches on me. I do not want to be distracted from God for a single moment. »

To another suitor, she said, « My existence is in God, and I belong to Him alone. The marriage contract must be sought from Him, not from me. »

Rabia accepted all pain and suffering as gifts from God. Once, while she was taking a stroll with one of her followers, her hand was tom by a thornbush and began to bleed, but she ignored it.

« Don’t you feel the pain? » her companion asked.

« My concern, » said Rabia, « is to accommodate myself to God’s will. I am content with His plan for my life and my day, and I thank Him for each of His gifts, large and small, painful or pleasurable. »

Once when she was ill with a high fever, a visitor suggested she ask God to bring the fever down. « Surely God will take this suffering away if you will ask Him. »

Rabia smiled. « Who do you think has given me this suffering? Is it not God? »

« Well… yes. »

« Should I ask God to change His plans…to do something contrary to His will? » She shook her head. « It is not good to presume that the Beloved does not know what is best for my soul. »

Even after Rabia became widely known and was surrounded by disciples and other seekers, she never lost her simplicity or her total reliance on God. Once, when she had fasted for weeks, her servant, while preparing a meal, realized she had no onion. « May I go borrow an onion? » the servant asked.

« Many years ago, » Rabia said, « I promised God I would never ask for anything except His presence. I can do very well without the onion. »

A moment later, a bird passing over dropped an onion at Rabia’s feet.

Attar tells of a time when Rabia was sitting by the Tigris River when her disciple Hasan approached. To impress his teacher, Hasan threw his prayer rug onto the surface of the water and leapt onto it, using his occult power to keep the rug afloat. « Join me, Rabia, » he said. « God will keep us afloat. »

Rabia shook her head sadly. « Oh, Hasan, is it necessary to make a show of the power God has given you? » Tossing her own prayer rug into the air, and rising to kneel on it high above his head, she said, « Come up here, Hasan, where people can see us. » Hasan looked away, ashamed.

Returning to the ground, Rabia said, « What you did, Hasan, a fish can do. And what I did, a bird can do. The real work of lovers of God is far beyond such games of yogis and fakirs. Let us devote ourselves to the real work. »

As Rabia grew older, she slept less and less, and she spent most of each night in prayer on the flat roof of her house. « My Lord, » she would say, « the stars are shining and the eyes of kings and beggars are closed. All the people have shut their doors, and every lover is with his beloved. And here I am, my Beloved, alone with You. »

Rabia lived to the age of eighty-four, then passed away quietly in the presence of a large group of followers. Before she died, she embraced each one, and then, in her sweet and still-vibrant voice, she said a final prayer :

« Beloved God, if I worship You from fear of hell, burn me in hell. If I worship You from hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise. But if I worship You for Your own sake, then do not withhold Yourself from me. »

[modifier] Francis Of Assisi

One of Francis's favorite places was the chapel of St. Damian, which stood atop a hill with a panoramic view of the Umbrian landscape. Seldom visited by Assisians, the chapel had fallen into ruins. One day, while Francis sat in the sanctuary, praying for guidance, a wood carving depicting Jesus Christ hanging on the cross seemed to come alive, and Francis's heart was filled with light and bliss. Crying with joy, he said, "Help me do Your will, Lord. Let Your will be known to me." And Jesus said, speaking from the cross, "Francis, repair my church."

Francis, of course, in his utter simplicity and humility, could never have dreamed that the Christ was assigning him the task of repairing and restoring the Catholic Church — of saving Christianity from ruin. He assumed, quite naturally, that his job was to repair the chapel of St. Damian, which he promptly set out to do.

By this time, his life at home had become almost unbearable, so he decided to live at the chapel while doing the repairs. He went home to gather his possessions and took a quantity of cloth from his father's stocks. He rode to the market at Foligno, where he sold everything, including his horse, and walked back to St. Damian with a purse full of money, with which he intended to buy nails and hammers and saws and building materials.

A few days later his father, boiling with rage, came looking for him. Francis hid in the forest, staying there for weeks, fasting and praying for guidance. When he finally came out, determined to face his father, his clothes hung on his body and his sunken eyes peered from a gaunt face surrounded by unkempt hair and a scraggly beard. As he stumbled through the city gate and up the narrow lanes of Assisi, a group of children shouted, "Pazzo, Pazzo!" [Madman! Madman!] Others took up the call, and a crowd was watching when Pietro Bernardone came outside his house to see what was causing the commotion.

When Pietro saw that his own son was the cause of the scorn and laughter, his fury knew no bounds. Seizing Francis bodily, he dragged him into the house, where he cursed and vilified him for hours, and then tied him up and locked him in a closet. "You will stay there until you learn respect and humility," he thundered, "and until I decide whether to flog you in the public streets or throw you to the wolves!"

Several days later, when Pietro left the house for a business trip, Pica unlocked the closet and fed her hungry son. (For this she was beaten by her enraged husband when he returned.) After eating a good meal for the first time in weeks, Francis gave his loving mother a long and tearful embrace, then bade her farewell and returned to his work at St. Damian.

Again his father came looking for him, but this time somewhat softened after venting his spleen on his unfortunate wife. Finding Francis in the chapel, Pietro tried to reason with him. "Don't you realize you have humiliated your papa in the eyes of all the city? Me — Pietro Bernardone, the most respected merchant in Assisi! The whole city is making jokes about my son, the pazzo. You have dragged the family name through the mud, and you do not even say you are sorry."

"If you remember, Papa," Francis said, "I left home in a peaceful manner, and you reacted with violence. I have done nothing to be sorry for."

Pietro tore his hair in frustration. "You really are a pazzo! How can you behave like this — after all I have done for you! I have given you everything you could have wished, and you repay me by taking cloth from my house and selling it." He glared. "All for your worthless beggar friends... yes?"

"The money is there on the window sill," said Francis. "I was going to use it to rebuild this chapel."

Pietro seized the money and put it in his pocket. "This place is not worth repairing. Assisi has enough chapels. Nobody ever comes here but tramps and robbers" — his voice broke — "and my pazzo son. Listen to your father, Francesco. I give you one more chance. Come home and behave like a true son of Pietro Bernardone. I will forgive and forget. Agreed?"

Francis shook his head firmly. "No, Papa. I am staying here until I finish rebuilding this chapel."

"You will not stay here! I will not permit you to live here, so close to Assisi, bearing the great name of Bernardone and behaving like an idiot. From this moment you are not my son. I disown you. I forbid you to live in this district — a constant reminder of the disgrace you have brought on my house." He threw out his chest and shook his fist. "I command you to leave this place, and this region, and never show your face in Assisi again."

"You are no longer my father, so you cannot give me orders," said Francis softly. "I take my orders from my Father in Heaven."

"I'll show you who can give orders!" Pietro roared. "I'll have you jailed, you thieving little pazzo, if you are not gone from this district by tomorrow morning!"

Pietro filed a complaint, seeking to have Francis expelled from the region. Francis sent word to the court that, as a servant of God, he was not under the jurisdiction of civil authorities. The magistrates referred the case to the church tribunal, which ordered a hearing. It was a cause celebre in Assisi, and the cathedral was jammed.

After Pietro Bernardone had stated his case, the bishop turned to Francis. "I have heard no evidence, my son, to convince me that you should be banished from this diocese. On the other hand, your father has threatened to disinherit you. Under the circumstances, would it not be best to return all property in your possession that rightfully belongs to your father?"

Francis nodded. Stepping outside the room for a moment, he returned stark naked, holding his clothes in a neat roll which he presented to the bishop, along with his few remaining coins. Livid with rage, Pietro Bernardone seized the items and left the room while Francis put on an old mantle and boots offered by the bishop's gardener. Leaving the cathedral and the city, he ascended the slopes of Mount Subasio.

It was April and the mountain seemed to swell with the joy of new growth and new life. Trees were budding and the forest pulsed with the songs of birds. Squirrels and chipmunks probed for food in the soft earth left by the melting snow. Intoxicated by the fragrance of spring, Francis laughed and sang and thanked God for His many blessings. While singing at the top of his voice, he came upon a band of ruffians, who ripped off his mantle and boots and threw him into a snowdrift. Now bruised and cold, he continued on his way, thanking the Lord for allowing him to suffer for the glory of God.

At the Benedictine monastery he offered to work for food and clothes, but his offer was refused. In the trash outside the monastery he found an old discarded shirt, which he put on. He walked to the house of a friend in the village of Gubbio, where he received clothes and shelter and food for a few days. At his next stop, a leper hospital, he was accepted with warmth and love, so he remained there for a time, helping to feed and bathe the patients, entertaining them with his songs and speaking to them of God. Inspired and rejuvenated, he walked back to St. Damian and set about to rebuild the sanctuary.

From time to time he went to Assisi to beg for building materials. First he would sing hymns in the town square to draw a crowd. Then he would speak of his plans to restore St. Damian and solicit their help. "Give me one stone and you will have a reward," he said. "Give me two stones and you will receive a double reward." Many of the people thought he was mad, but others were moved by his sincerity and gave him stones and other supplies, which he accepted gratefully and hauled on his back to the chapel.

It wasn't long before all of Assisi was accustomed to the gentle and shabby hermit who walked the streets or begged food at the kitchens. His presence was a source of constant embarrassment to his father, who would flush with anger and curse his son whenever their paths crossed.

After completing the restoration of St. Damian, Francis set about to repair other abandoned chapels in the area. The second one was on the site of an ancient temple that, according to local legend, had been there since before the birth of Christ. In the fourth century, four pilgrims returning from the Holy Land settled there and built a church. Later St. Benedict acquired the property and named it Portiuncula (Little Portion). His monks built a monastery that was used by the Benedictine Order for more than six hundred years. Before Francis came along, the Benedictines had abandoned the site as indefensible against the threat of invading Saracens and moved to the Benedictine fortress on Mount Subasio.

Francis loved the spiritual atmosphere of the Portiuncula. While laying stone and mixing mortar, he meditated on the untold generations of seekers who had lived and prayed there before him. Their love for God permeated the entire place and was a constant source of inspiration for him. He hoped for nothing more than to spend the rest of his life there in solitude and prayer.

A priest from the Benedictine monastery came to Portiuncula from time to time to say mass. Such occasions always filled Francis with great joy. One day while the priest was saying mass, Francis received a very special gift from God. It seemed to him that the priest became the living Christ, who was speaking directly to Francis. "Wherever ye go, preach, saying, 'The Kingdom of God is at hand,'" he intoned. "Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither silver nor gold nor brass in your purse, neither scrip nor two coats, nor shoes nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his meat."

That very day, Francis discarded his staff, writing paper, purse, and sandals, and made a decision to observe to the letter the precepts given to him from the Gospels. Each morning he walked barefoot to Assisi and preached a sermon in the streets. At first few people listened, but as time passed more and more came to hear his message about the peace and joy of following in the footsteps of Christ.

It is interesting to consider that Francis may have been the first Christian evangelist in the modern sense of the word. Before Francis came along, priests did not really communicate, in the true sense of the word. They lectured, harangued, and displayed their learning and piety. In public, they spoke only in Latin, a language that few ordinary people knew, and they gave stilted, pedantic monologues. Francis was the first to speak in the language of the people — as Christ had done.

William M. Stephens. © 1998 by Oceanic Press