1. How the Hodja Saved Allah
Not far from the famous Mosque Bayezid an old Hodja kept a school, and taught his students lessons from the Book of Books. He had such good understanding 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 teacher 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
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 he paused 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 gives double to whom He pleases.” 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 given to Allah was an investment that brought great rewards, he dismissed his pupils, and putting his hand into his bag proceeded to count his money.
Carefully 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! Oh my God ! A fortune.”
So, having dismissed his class, he went out, his bag of money in his hand, and began distributing its contents to the needy that he met in the highways. Before 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 grieved over 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 fury of the Almighty had fallen on him?
“Ah! Allah! Allah!” he cried, and beat his chest.
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, the penalty was often death.
The Hodja’s cries 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 away. Just then the howl of the Dervish again reached his ear, and in terror he tried to flee. As luck would have it he came upon a tree, up which, although stiff from age and weak from hunger, 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, and with rapid strides he headed for the very tree the Hodja was in.
On and on he came, his wild yell sending his blood cold and leaving his face as pale as a sheet.
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. Taking out 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 advise 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 took out 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 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 spoke. You understood every living thing. The speech of the animals 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 given to you, you committed many wrongs and did many foolish things, which in the end brought misery into the world and destruction to 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 took 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 brother 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 took 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 to 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 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 you are He. I have slain Job, David, Solomon, Jesus, and Mohammed for the foolishness that they have brought into the world. You, God, are all powerful. All men are your children, you created them and brought them into the world. The thoughts that they think are your thoughts. If all these men have brought all this evil into the world, it is your fault. Shall I punish them and allow you to go unhurt? No. I must punish you also,” and he raised his sword to strike.
As the sword circled in the air the Hodja, hidden 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 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 on the Dervish’s face, but the Dervish made no sign. The Hodja took more courage, removed one of his 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 myself 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 raised his eyes to heaven said, “Oh God, you have kept your promise, but,” he added, “not before I saved your life.”