How the Hodja Saved Allah

Not far from the famous Mosque Bayezid an old Hodja kept a school, and

very skilfully he taught the rising generation the everlasting lesson

from the Book of Books. Such knowledge had he of human nature that by

a glance at his pupil he could at once tell how long it would take him

to learn a quarter of the Koran. He was known over the whole Empire as

the best reciter and imparter of the Sacred Writings of the Prophet.

For many years this Hodja, famed far and wide as the Hodja of Hodjas,

had taught in this little school. The number of times he had recited

the Book with his pupils is beyond counting; and should we attempt to

consider how often he must have corrected them for some misplaced

word, our beards would grow gray in the endeavor.

Swaying to and fro one day as fast as his old age would let him, and

reciting to his pupils the latter part of one of the chapters, Bakara,

divine inspiration opened his inward eye and led him to pause at the

following sentence: "And he that spends his money in the ways of Allah

is likened unto a grain of wheat that brings forth seven sheaves, and

in each sheaf an hundred grains; and Allah giveth twofold unto whom He

pleaseth." As his pupils, one after the other, recited this verse to

him, he wondered why he had overlooked its meaning for so many years.

Fully convinced that anything either given to Allah, or in the way

that He proposes, was an investment that brought a percentage

undreamed of in known commerce, he dismissed his pupils, and putting

his hand into his bosom drew forth from the many folds of his dress a

bag, and proceeded to count his worldly possessions.

Carefully and attentively he counted and then recounted his money, and

found that if invested in the ways of Allah it would bring a return of

no less than one thousand piasters.

"Think of it," said the Hodja to himself, "one thousand piasters! One

thousand piasters! Mashallah! a fortune."

So, having dismissed his school, he sallied forth, his bag of money in

his hand, and began distributing its contents to the needy that he met

in the highways. Ere many hours had passed the whole of his savings

was gone. The Hodja was very happy; for now he was the creditor in

Allah's books for one thousand piasters.

He returned to his house and ate his evening meal of bread and olives,

and was content.

The next day came. The thousand piasters had not yet arrived. He ate

his bread, he imagined he had olives, and was content.

The third day came. The old Hodja had no bread and he had no olives.

He suffered the pangs of hunger. So when the end of the day had come,

and his pupils had departed to their homes, the Hodja, with a full

heart and an empty stomach, walked out of the town, and soon got

beyond the city walls.

There, where no one could hear him, he lamented his sad fate, and the

great calamity that had befallen him in his old age.

What sin had he committed? What great wrong had his ancestors done,

that the wrath of the Almighty had thus fallen on him, when his

earthly course was well-nigh run?

"Ya! Allah! Allah!" he cried, and beat his breast.

As if in answer to his cry, the howl of the dreaded Fakir Dervish came

over across the plain. In those days the Fakir Dervish was a terror in

the land. He knocked at the door, and it was opened. He asked, and

received food. If refused, life often paid the penalty.

The Hodja's lamentations were now greater than ever; for should the

Dervish ask him for food and the Hodja have nothing to give, he would

certainly be killed.

"Allah! Allah! Allah! Guide me now. Protect one of your faithful

followers," cried the frightened Hodja, and he looked around to see if

there was any one to rescue him from his perilous position. But not a

soul was to be seen, and the walls of the city were five miles

distant. Just then the howl of the Dervish again reached his ear, and

in terror he flew, he knew not whither. As luck would have it he came

upon a tree, up which, although stiff from age and weak from want, the

Hodja, with wonderful agility, scrambled and, trembling like a leaf,

awaited his fate.

Nearer and nearer came the howling Dervish, till at last his long hair

could be seen floating in the air, as with rapid strides he preceded

the wind upon his endless journey.

On and on he came, his wild yell sending the blood, from very fear, to

unknown parts of the poor Hodja's body and leaving his face as yellow

as a melon.

To his utter dismay, the Hodja saw the Dervish approach the tree and

sit down under its shade.

Sighing deeply, the Dervish said in a loud voice, "Why have I come

into this world? Why were my forefathers born? Why was anybody born?

Oh, Allah! Oh, Allah! What have you done! Misery! Misery! Nothing but

misery to mankind and everything living. Shall I not be avenged for

all the misery my father and my father's fathers have suffered? I

shall be avenged."

Striking his chest a loud blow, as if to emphasize the decision he had

come to, the Dervish took a small bag that lay by his side, and slowly

proceeded to untie the leather strings that bound it. Bringing forth

from it a small image, he gazed at it a moment and then addressed it

in the following terms:

"You, Job! you bore much; you have written a book in which your

history is recorded; you have earned the reputation of being the most

patient man that ever lived; yet I have read your history and found

that when real affliction oppressed you, you cursed God. You have made

men believe, too, that there is a reward in this life for all the

afflictions they suffer. You have misled mankind. For these sins no

one has ever punished you. Now I will punish you," and taking his

long, curved sword in his hand he cut off the head of the figure.

The Dervish bent forward, took another image and, gazing upon it with

a contemptuous smile, thus addressed it:

"David, David, singer of songs of peace in this world and in the world

to come, I have read your sayings in which you counsel men to lead a

righteous life for the sake of the reward which they are to receive. I

have learned that you have misled your fellow-mortals with your songs

of peace and joy. I have read your history, and I find that you have

committed many sins. For these sins and for misleading your fellowmen

you have never been punished. Now I will punish you," and taking his

sword in his hand he cut off David's head.

Again the Dervish bent forward and brought forth an image which he

addressed as follows:

"You, Solomon, are reputed to have been the wisest man that ever

lived. You had command over the host of the Genii and could control

the legion of the demons. They came at the bidding of your signet

ring, and they trembled at the mysterious names to which you gave

utterance. You understood every living thing. The speech of the beasts

of the field, of the birds of the air, of the insects of the earth,

and of the fishes of the sea, was known unto you. Yet when I read your

history I found that in spite of the vast knowledge that was

vouchsafed unto you, you committed many wrongs and did many foolish

things, which in the end brought misery into the world and destruction

unto your people; and for all these no one has ever punished you. Now

I will punish you," and taking his sword he cut off Solomon's head.

Again the Dervish bent forward and brought forth from the bag another

figure, which he addressed thus:

"Jesus, Jesus, prophet of God, you came into this world to atone, by

giving your blood, for the sins of mankind and to bring unto them a

religion of peace. You founded a church, whose history I have studied,

and I see that it set fathers against their children and brethren

against one another; that it brought strife into the world; that the

lives of men and women and children were sacrificed so that the rivers

ran red with blood unto the seas. Truly you were a great prophet, but

the misery you caused must be avenged. For it no one has yet punished

you. Now I will punish you," and he took his sword and cut off Jesus'

head.

With a sorrowful face the Dervish bent forward and brought forth

another image from the bag.

"Mohammed," he said, "I have slain Job, David, Solomon, and Jesus.

What shall I do with you? After the followers of Jesus had shed much

blood, their religion spread over the world, was acceptable unto man,

and the nations were at peace. Then you came into the world, and you

brought a new religion, and father rose against father, and brother

rose against brother; hatred was sown between your followers and the

followers of Jesus, and again the rivers ran red with blood unto the

seas; and you have not been punished. For this I will punish you. By

the beard of my forefathers, whose blood was made to flow in your

cause, you too must die," and with a blow the head of Mohammed fell to

the ground.

Then the Dervish prostrated himself to the earth, and after a silent

prayer rose and brought forth from the bag the last figure. Reverently

he bowed to it, and then he addressed it as follows:

"Oh, Allah! The Allah of Allahs. There is but one Allah, and thou art

He. I have slain Job, David, Solomon, Jesus, and Mohammed for the

folly that they have brought into the world. Thou, God, art all

powerful. All men are thy children, thou createst them and bringest

them into the world. The thoughts that they think are thy thoughts. If

all these men have brought all this evil into the world, it is thy

fault. Shall I punish them and allow thee to go unhurt? No. I must

punish thee also," and he raised his sword to strike.

As the sword circled in the air the Hodja, secreted in the tree,

forgot the fear in which he stood of the Dervish. In the excitement of

the moment he cried out in a loud tone of voice: "Stop! Stop! He owes

me one thousand piasters."

The Dervish reeled and fell senseless to the ground. The Hodja was

overcome at his own words and trembled with fear, convinced that his

last hour had arrived. The Dervish lay stretched upon his back on the

grass like one dead. At last the Hodja took courage. Breaking a twig

from off the tree, he threw it down upon the Dervish's face, but the

Dervish made no sign. The Hodja took more courage, removed one of his

heavy outer shoes and threw it on the outstretched figure of the

Dervish, but still the Dervish lay motionless. The Hodja carefully

climbed down the tree, gave the body of the Dervish a kick, and

climbed back again, and still the Dervish did not stir. At length the

Hodja descended from the tree and placed his ear to the Dervish's

heart. It did not beat. The Dervish was dead.

"Ah, well," said the Hodja, "at least I shall not starve. I will take

his garments and sell them and buy me some bread."

The Hodja commenced to remove the Dervish's garments. As he took off

his belt he found that it was heavy. He opened it, and saw that it

contained gold. He counted the gold and found that it was exactly one

thousand piasters.

The Hodja turned his face toward Mecca and raising his eyes to heaven

said, "Oh God, you have kept your promise, but," he added, "not before

I saved your life."