THE FLASHES

The Tenth Flash

“Mustafa Çavuş, with whom did you speak today? I saw you with soiled hands, while the district governor was behind you.”

He replied: “Alas! The village headman gave me such a message and said, ‘Tell the scribe.’ I did not know what lay behind it.”

That same day he had brought nearly a litre of lamp oil to the mosque. Then something happened that had never happened before. The door had been left open, a young goat entered, and a grown man came to clean the droppings the goat had left near my prayer rug. Thinking that the lamp oil in the jug was water, and imagining that he was cleaning, he sprinkled the lamp oil throughout the mosque. Remarkably, he did not notice its smell.

It was as though that mosque was saying to Mustafa Çavuş, through the language of its state:

“We have no need of your lamp oil. Because of the fault you committed, I have not accepted your lamp oil.”

Thus the smell was not made apparent to that man, so that this sign might be given. Even within that same week, despite all his efforts, he could not arrive in time for the congregation on Friday night and for several important prayers. Then, after sincere remorse and seeking forgiveness, he regained his original purity.

The Second and Third Mustafas: These are Mustafa from Kuleönü, a valuable, hardworking, and important student of mine, and his very loyal and self-sacrificing friend Hāfiz Mustafa (may Allah have mercy on him).

After the Eid, I had sent word that, for the time being, they should not come, lest the worldly people cause us difficulty and bring slackness to the service of the Qur’an. I had said: “Let them not come for now. And if they do come, let them come one by one.”

Nevertheless, one night they came as three men together. They intended to leave before dawn if the weather was suitable. In a way that had never happened before, both Mustafa Çavuş, Süleyman Efendi, I myself, and they all failed to think of an obvious precaution; it was as though it had been made forgotten to us. Each of us left it to the other, and we acted without caution.

They left before dawn. Such a fierce storm battered them continuously for two hours that I became anxious they would not escape from it. Until then, no such storm had occurred that winter, and I had never felt such pity for anyone.

Afterward, I intended to send Süleyman after them as a consequence of his lack of caution, in order to learn whether they were safe and well. But Mustafa Çavuş said: “If he goes, he too will remain there. I must go after him to search for them. And after me, Abdullah Çavuş will also have to come.”

Thereupon we said, “Tawakkalnā alā Allah,” and waited.