The Jihadi and the Jinn

A tale of devilry and redemption for those in search of Wisdom and Truth

Introduction

There is little doubt in our minds that the following story may upset some people. But we venture to hope that even they may recognise that it is not intended to court controversy, undermine anyone's faith, nor malign the many sublime teachings to be found in the Koran for which the author has the highest regard. On the contrary, our tale is intended to remind us that a god who punishes his children and exhorts his followers to murder one another in his name is no god, but a demon, no matter whether he be the god of Muslims, Christians, Jews, or any other race or nation.

Every chapter in the Koran begins with the Bismillah, the words of which may be rendered into English as: "In the name of the Compassionate and most Merciful God." Many thinking people ask how these words may be reconciled with the appalling acts of cruelty and hatred which strew the smiling earth with violence and death in the name of the God of Mercy? The answers lie in the dual nature of man which we have discussed in so many of our articles, partly cursed by his lower, animal instincts and partly blessed by the Angel that resides in every one of us, if we will but listen to its compassionate and merciful voice. The subject of this story did not do so until it was too late. But is it ever too late? This and many other questions this tale hopes to answer.

It will be noted that the style of writing varies throughout our story. There is a deliberate Occult reason for this, which will be understood by the discerning reader. In our customary afterword, we briefly discuss the life of the Prophet Mohammed and a few of the occult truths to be found in the Koran.

N A CITY famed for its beauty and culture there is a wide avenue bordered by stately trees, which at this season of the year, are laden with white and pink blossoms which cover the broad pavements with a carpet of loveliness such as only Nature can weave. In the dappled shade beneath that aureate canopy the sun played hide and seek among the tables and chairs that were set out in front of a restaurant. The warm, spring day had brought many people out to enjoy the fine weather and the tables were crowded with diners. There were elderly couples sipping coffee and admiring the view, businessmen and women enjoying a working lunch, boisterous young children with their indulgent parents gently scolding them, and several young lovers who had eyes only for each other. There were white faces, black faces, brown faces and even yellow faces amongst the diners, for this was an international city in which many different peoples mixed freely and joyfully with one another.

At exactly half-past-one on that spring day two young children who had been lost in rapt contemplation of the floral tapestry above their heads sat bolt upright on their chairs. At the same moment, the twittering sparrows, the cooing doves, the singing blackbirds, and all the other birds above their heads, took flight, and ascending like a huge and ominous cloud, wheeled away into the west. Seconds later there was a deafening roar accompanied by a blinding light. The trees were engulfed in flame and smoke. Tables, chairs and bodies were tossed into the air like leaves in a gale. The front of the restaurant blew outwards and vanished in a tornado of broken glass, splintered wood and flying masonry. Without warning, without any preliminary, Death had visited the city, this street, this restaurant and crushed the life and light from the hearts of its citizens.

Sirens wailed. Screams pierced the smoke-laden air, and the carpet of flowers ran with bright rivers of blood. It is said that over 120 men, women and children perished in that holocaust of senseless destruction, and many more were maimed for life, whilst the numbers of grieving relatives could not be counted. But this forms no part of our tale, which, as you will recall from its title, is concerned with the Jihadi and the Jinn. But before we reach that part of our story, we must tell you what happened after the bomb ripped through the restaurant, or what comes later will not make any sense to you.

The two little children who had noticed the birds leaving were still seated at their table with their parents, gazing in bewilderment at one another. "What happened?" asked the boy whose name was Marek. "I heard a huge bang and there was flash of light and yet nothing seems to have changed." He turned enquiringly to his sister. "I saw and heard it too," she answered, and looking up at her father asked: "Didn't you hear the big bang?"

"I heard a noise, Chloe," he replied, patting her head affectionately. "It was probably a car back-firing or perhaps someone is having a party and let off a firework. Nothing to worry about. Eat your fish or it will get cold."

Chloe stared at her parents in bewilderment. They didn't seem the least concerned and went on with their conversation as if nothing had happened. But something very important had happened, of that she was quite sure. For one thing the birds had not returned and there was something subtly different in their surroundings she could not quite understand. The sky seemed changed, as if someone or something had added an additional lustre to it. Marek thought the people looked happier and said so, at which his mother laughed and said the wine here was very good.

Similar conversations were taking place among the other diners, none of whom had the slightest idea that anything out of the ordinary had occurred, except for one or two, like Marek and Chloe, who, like many children, often see further and deeper than adults can. It was Chloe who first noticed that some people were disappearing; really disappearing. One second they were there and then they were not. They didn't get up and walk away, they simply vanished, which was very odd as we're sure you will agree. When this happened to their parents the children became quite alarmed but before they could say anything, a tall lady approached them from the door of the restaurant and taking their hands in hers, drew them to their feet. She was so very lovely and smiled so sweetly that all their fears evaporated in an instant.

"You have died, my little ones," she said softly in a musical voice, "and there is nothing to fear. Hold onto my hands and you will soon be with your parents again." The light around the children grew in intensity and they felt themselves rising rapidly through it, until, all at once they found themselves in a wooded park, more beautiful than any they had ever seen before. And there, sitting on a wooden bench beneath the foliage of a magnificent oak tree, were their parents, looking much younger than they did on earth, entwined in each other's arms. "Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Chloe. "It's true, we really are dead, and this must be heaven!"

"This is not heaven," said the Lady, who now shone so brightly she resembled an angel rather than a mortal woman, "but only the precincts of it."

There we must leave the children, though one of them still has an important part to play in our little drama as we shall see later on. But before then, it is time to discover what befell the Jihadi after the explosion.

No sooner had he exploded his bomb than the misguided martyr felt himself tumbling head over heels in pitch blackness. There was not the smallest glimmer of light to illuminate the shapeless void that surrounded him on all sides, nor any foothold for his feet. Over and over he rolled, frozen with terror, not knowing where he was, what he was, or even if he was. His torment seemed to last forever, until without warning, he was violently precipitated upon a sharp rock, naked and bleeding from multiple wounds. Gasping with pain he scrambled to his feet and looked about him. What he saw was very different to the paradise he had been promised by those who had given him the bomb. This desolate spot couldn't possibly be Jannah. Here were no gardens of perpetual bliss, buildings made of gold and silver, adorned with precious stones, rivers of milk and wine, and certainly no young and full-breasted maidens, virgin or otherwise! No, the place to which the soul of the Jihadi had descended was very unpleasant indeed, as we shall see

As he strove to collect his scattered wits a monstrous shape approached from the north. It resembled nothing so much as the horrible Ifrits his mother had threatened him with as a child. It looked like a travesty of a human being with cloven hooves and a long, sinewy tail which swept the ground behind it. Two baleful red eyes regarded him from beneath the brows of a goat-like face. One taloned hand beckoned him as it bared its fangs in an enormous grin. "Welcome!" it snarled in a thunderous voice which struck terror into the Jihadi's heart and turned his blood to ice. "Mercy!" he cried and fell to his knees. "Have mercy upon me! I am a true believer who by some terrible mischance has lost his way."

"Mercy?" laughed the Jinn sardonically. "You ask me, a demon, for mercy? I can see we're going to have a lot of fun with you, my poor, deluded shahid! My Master will decide whether you're a 'true believer' and HE isn't easily deceived! As for the vapid excuse of having 'lost your way', it seems to me you've only just found it. How do you like the cosy home you've made for yourself? Take a good look around, you're going to be here for a very long time."

The sky was the colour of rusty iron in which hung a sickly moon whose meagre rays illuminated the few stunted trees and diseased vegetation which dotted the desolate, rocky landscape with its baleful light. Here and there, flames erupted from stagnant pools of reeking sulphur, whilst the very air was laden with flying cinders and choking dust. This must be Jahannam, thought the Jihadi, and I am now truly dead. As if he could read the Muslim's mind (which he could), the Jinn replied: "Of course you're dead, you simpleton! Do you imagine you can strap 50 pounds of semtex to your miserable body and suffer nothing worse than having all your clothes burned off you? Here, put something on, we do have some standards of decency even in hell." The Jinn threw a tattered cloak to the bewildered Jihadi which he hastily bound around himself.

"D-dead?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"As a doornail," replied the Jinn breezily.
"H‒hell. This is Jahannam?"
"I'm afraid so, my meretricious martyr. Or rather, the outer courts of it. You're not nearly wicked enough to be worthy of our more refined accommodations. They are reserved for the strong-in-evil whereas you are only a very minor little sinner."
"How can I be a sinner?" asked the Jihadi. "I am a true believer devoted to Jihad. I only did what the Imam told me to! He promised me I would be rewarded for ridding the world of the filthy infidels."
You'll be 'rewarded', all right," cackled the Jinn derisively. "My master has something very special lined up for self-righteous sinners like you." So saying, the demon grabbed the unfortunate Jihadi by the scruff of his neck and dragged him kicking and sobbing toward the gaping mouth of a cave from which emerged the most piteous cries, shrieks and groans it is possible to imagine.

"Mercy, MERCY!" cried the terrified martyr. "Have mercy on a faithful follower of the Prophet."
"Ask your victims for mercy, not me!"
"But they were infidels, Kafirs. . ." said the Jihadi hesitantly, for he was no longer sure what an infidel actually was or Jihad either. Had he been mistaken? Did Jihad mean something quite different? Had he sinned? If he hadn't why was he here in this dreadful place? Who to tell him?"
"You can knock those ideas on the head straightaway, my lad," snarled the demon. "There's no room for reformed sinners in hell."
Releasing his grip, he gave the Jihadi a violent kick which propelled him into the cave.

"This isn't fair," wailed the Jihadi. "I don't belong in hell."
"If I had a golden dinar for every worthless sinner who's told me that, I'd be richer than Solomon. If you didn't belong here you wouldn't be here. You'd be in the other place along with the 120 souls you slaughtered. Well, some of them anyway, as there were a good few sinners among them."
"120?" asked the Jihadi.
"136," to be accurate," replied the demon, "There were sixteen Muslims among your victims who are now dying of their wounds. Would you like to see them? Their deaths will be deliciously gruesome and exceedingly painful!" He rubbed his two scaly paws together in fiendish anticipation.
"No."
"Not so squeamish earlier, were you?"
"That was before I ended up——"
"——In hell," finished the Jinn gleefully. "Of course, it's heaven for us. Never more so than when we get our red-hot tongs on someone weak in evil like you. But we'll soon improve you. By the time we're done you'll be ready to do some serious mischief up above. One of your victims was a fanatical Wahabi Imam whose very promising career your pathetic little sacrifice cut short. My Master is not too pleased about the loss of one of his best servants. Still, you can take his place next time."

"N‒next time?" asked the Jihadi falteringly.
"You don't think souls stay here forever do you?"
"That's what I was taught."
"Dear me," said the Jinn, "you really are a gullible simpleton, aren't you? You'll be sent back upstairs like all the other lukewarm sinners who haven't got the guts to do anything really evil. But not until we've had our fun with you first."
"I don't understand."
The demon's mouth widened in a gargantuan grin which nearly split it's face apart in uncontrolled mirth. "Praise Iblis for the blindness and stupidity of you self-righteous fanatics! Our servants on earth murder, maim, plot, betray, corrupt, despoil and ravage with never a twinge of regret or remorse, convinced they are fulfilling the will of Allah, whereas in reality they are only marionettes dancing to the tunes we compose down here in honour of our Master. HE is the true god, not your prater of pious platitudes and promises of unlimited virgins and oceans of wine for the faithful after death. My Master rewards his servants on earth, not in some wishy-washy hereafter."

"How dare you blaspheme the name of Allah!" shouted the Jihadi.
"I rather think you're the one blaspheming," replied the demon, giving him a playful (but excruciatingly painful) kick with his hooves. "Otherwise you wouldn't have ended up in our cosy domain. It's MY Master who sends his servants to earth to twist the words in your 'holy' books. Turning 'merciful' into cruelty and 'compassion' into indifference was one of his master-strokes which have netted us a rich harvest of pious hypocrites, mealy-mouthed mullahs and fanatical despots over the centuries."
The Jihadi groaned and sobbed into his hands. "May Allah forgive me! Oh how can I have been so very mistaken!"
"Save your tears for your victims," said the Jinn. "The exquisite pain you are about to experience will elevate you to the very pinnacle of holy martyrdom; then you'll have something to cry about. Now come along and take your medicine like a man. I promise you it'll really hurt and last a very, VERY long time!" Chuckling at his little joke, the Jinn dragged the reluctant Jihadi deeper into the cave which widened out into a huge arena from which the shrieks and screams were coming.

Hieronymus Bosch — Hell — tempera on canvas, ca. 1505

The scene that now confronted the Muslim martyr was worse than anything he had ever read about in the Koran. On every side a host of malignant demons were engaged in inflicting the most horrible tortures on their victims. Some were tied to burning stakes, others impaled on spikes, yet others stretched out on racks, their joints cracking as the demons wrenched their limbs apart. In one corner, a demon was gleefully extracting the teeth from the mouth of a Mullah with red-hot pincers, while his accomplice flayed the skin from his back with an enormous cheese-grater. In another area of the vast cavern several dog-faced demons were leisurely lowering a group of politicians into vats of boiling oil. Although hell is not the proper place for the ladies, several beautiful women writhed in agony in a snake-infested pit while the demons cut choice bits of flesh from their naked bodies and ate them. The Jihadi thought that only death could release these poor wretches from the terrible cruelties inflicted upon them, but they did not die for they were already dead. He shuddered as the Jinn dragged him to the centre of the cavern. There, on great, golden throne decorated with skulls sat a huge demon from whose misshapen shoulders an enormous pair of bat-like wings extended above his scaly arms. Tongues of fire danced in a diadem around his massive, goat-faced head, from which one solitary eye regarded him with fiendish cunning and malignity.

"My Master," said the Jinn by way of introduction. They joined a throng of demons around the throne who were prodding and pushing a sorry assortment of terrified men and women toward the monstrosity who glared down at them.
"We call this triage," explained the Jinn with a sardonic grin. "Though the 'diagnosis' is always the same: deliciously inventive torture followed by the 'second death'. Or, if they are really lucky, a swift descent into the lower regions of my Master's dominions, from which there is no return."
"Next!" boomed the rasping voice of the great demon.
"If it please your august Magnificentness, this mullah stoned a woman to death for sleeping with her gardener," said the Jinn.
"Tear out his fingernails—slowly," commanded the demon.
"This one betrayed his country to the enemy for gold."
"Into the sulphur lakes with him."
"This pretty maiden poisoned her husband."
"Pour boiling oil down her throat and then knock out all her teeth with red-hot hammers."
"And this pious wretch," said the Jinn, pushing the Jihadi forward, "is a suicide bomber who took the lives of 120 of his fellow humans."
"Is that all? Tear out his entrails and then skin him alive."
"No, there's more, your Highness," said the Jinn with undisguised glee. "He now regrets his crime and begs Allah to forgive him."

The assembled demons nearly split their sides with laughter at this unaccustomed joke. You see, there is no humour in hell except on the very rare occasions when some especially pious and contrite sinner arrives. The Jihadi was quite right when he thought that he didn't belong in hell. His sin, though extreme in the eyes of men, was not prompted by real wickedness, but by misguided zeal, twisted ideologies and the tongues of evil-speaking men. The Jinn knew this, as did his Master, for the demons can read the hearts of men as well as angels. Which is why the great demon, who was not Iblis, but one of his Ministers, now erupted in uncontrollable rage as fire belched from his snarling maws.
"What!" he roared. "You lily-livered scabrous turncoat! You spineless popinjay, how dare you repent of the mission WE entrusted you with on earth! Would'st spurn the honour bestowed upon your worthless self when we—WE at whose command tyrants rise and fall, epidemics are unleashed across the earth, and millions perish at the merest flutter of our mighty wings—when WE cast our unwinking eye upon you—you ignorant, weak-in-evil ingrate!"

"O may Allah save me!" sobbed the Jihadi as he struggled to free himself from the Jinn who held him in an iron embrace.
"Would'st add blasphemy to your other sins?" roared the great demon. "Come, kiss my bloody hooves and swear fealty to my Majesty and we may—we may be merciful and grant you a chance to redeem yourself."
"Never," cried the Jihadi. "A belated light has entered my soul and I see clearly where once I saw only darkness and the lies of men. Never again shall I raise a hand against my brothers and sisters or take the life of any creature in blind anger and hatred. I have sinned greatly. Yet I believe with all my soul in the justice of Allah, the Compassionate and Merciful! There is no God but Him! I give my soul into His hands and may he have mercy upon it!"

"Liar!" shouted the great demon. "Blasphemer! There is no god but Iblis and I—I AM his Servant! Tie him to the stake and let us see whether our genial warmth may yet sharpen his befuddled wits."

The demons obeyed and soon the hungry flames leaped up around the Jihadi. Slowly, he sank down into the fire while the demons howled with mad laughter and capered about on their crooked legs in a paroxysm of unholy joy. Then, without warning, a dazzling beam of brilliant white light broke through the roof of the cavern and scattered the demons, who, shrieking in terror, fled in all directions. Only the great demon and the Jinn stood their ground as a shape of unimaginable glory materialised next to the Jihadi who suddenly stood bolt upright again in amazement. He had died the 'second death'. The spirit loosed his bonds which fell to the floor, releasing his dead body, which sank to the ground and disappeared from sight. The spirit clasped the soul of the Jihadi in its arms and together they soared upwards into the light.

The place to which the spirit had conducted the soul of the Jihadi was illuminated by a radiant, kindly light which glittered like precious gems on the trees and flowers which dotted the landscape. In the distance could be seen rushing waterfalls descending from flowery hills sounding forth the joyful melody of nature; their laughing cadences reflected in the rainbow mists that hung upon the dancing waters. Nearby, a stately swan glided silently across a silvery pool, whilst all around rang forth the song of birds and the happy chatter of the insects going about their mysterious errands.

Tuco Amalfi — Fields of Peace — acrylic on canvas, 2010

"Dost remember me, Omar?" the spirit asked. "Thou dids't love me long ago, as I loved thee with all mine heart. As I love thee still and always shall."
"Alesha?" asked Omar.
"I was Alesha once," replied the radiant maiden thoughtfully. "But my true name is Daima as yours is Arfaan. For these are our true selves, now separated for a space from the shadows which clothed them on earth. We have borne many names and worn many shapes in the lands whither Allah has seen fit to place us. Just now I was Chloe whose child body you slew in your temporary madness. I heard thy soul cry out to me in the midst of its torment and prayed to Allah to save thee. And lo, a mighty voice, like the sound of many rushing waters mingled with the solemn tones of silvery bells spoke to me in my grief, saying 'go my daughter and rescue thy beloved and fear not, for the gates of hell itself cannot prevail against the Power of Real Love, before which even the greatest of the gods must bow their heads in impotence.' Thus did the voice speak to me. Then did I seem to pass through many regions, some bewilderingly strange, some oddly familiar, until I entered a thick, choking darkness peopled with shapes of unimaginable horror. But I did not falter even then, for the voice that had spoken to me was like a living robe of light before which the demons fled in terror. Thus did I come to thee, my Beloved, in that dreadful place whither thy erring steps had led thee."

Bitter tears welled up in Arfaan's eyes at the remembrance of what he had done. "Never, O never again shall I shed the life's blood of a single one of my brothers and sisters to appease the hatred and base ambition of the lowly sons of Man! O how great was the malice of my ignorance which led me to add to the bottomless ocean of woe and tears that strew the suffering earth with misery through my senseless act of unholy war! O never more! How often did thy loving voice warn me of the perilous path my foolish feet had entered. Yet always the fierce fire that burned in the bowels of the shape I wore did drown thy sweet counsel in raging accents of hatred and revenge. Alas! That I ever hearkened to the speech of evil men, who with devilish sophistry do distort with lies the holy truths the Prophet received from the angels of Heaven. For I see clearly now that Jihad is not what men think it is in their blindness. To slay the guilty doth not release them from their wickedness. Neither doth the slaughter of the innocent bring them one step closer to Allah. Jihad doth not consist in violence, but in waging war against the ignorance that blinds the eyes of men and leads them to murder one another in the name of Him whose name they are not worthy to speak!"

Trembling with rapturous emotion, his heart overflowing with mercy and compassion, did Arfaan pour out his love for all mankind. A wave of joy and bliss engulfed him as he clasped Daima to his bosom, who lifted her face to his and answered him thus: "The voice did tell me when I prayed for thee; did proclaim in words as strong as lightning, in accents grave but merciful: 'Every soul shall possess in goodness that goodness which it sought on earth. Every soul shall receive the darkness to which it clung in life. Every soul shall ascend to Me who truly willeth to ascend to Me. I have given it wings, but if it clip those wings, who is in fault? Neither in the highest heaven, nor in the earth, nor in the lowest hell, can the soul escape the consequences of its acts. It cannot be forgiven by angels or redeemed by the prayers of men in priestly garb. Sacrifice cannot atone for its sins, nor offerings remove the stains upon it. It must purify itself."

Arfaan sighed and bowed his head. "I know this my Beloved. Just as I now know that earthly life is a dream within a dream, peopled by shadows such as Omar, the Jihadi who I was. And though it take a thousand lifetimes in which I must wade through an ocean of bitter tears, I will undo the evil I have done and so become worthy to dwell with thee in Paradise. If Allah wills! O if Allah wills, as surely He must, the Compassionate and Merciful, who so longs to gather His lost and erring children into His loving arms."

Coda

So ends our tale. A true tale; true today, and yesterday and all tomorrows, though it be clothed in the habiliments of fiction. For the truths of Heaven are the fictions of earth and therefore few there are who comprehend them. Nor are such tales confined to space and time, for the sins of men do not vary very much at any time, nor do their virtues ever change. The greatest of these is Love for all that lives and breathes. Whatever your beliefs may be, we pray that Mercy may ever dwell in the chambers of your heart and Compassion guide your deeds, so that perchance you may never need to learn the bitter lessons Omar the Jihadi taught Arfaan.

Publisher's Note: updated 21 August 2017

This story and the afterword to it were written well before the terrorist attacks of March, May and June 2017 in London and Manchester which left many people dead and many more severely injured. Since we published this article, many more terrorist attacks have taken place throughout Europe and in other parts of the world, and we have little doubt they will continue to cause immense suffering, distress and perplexity. For these reasons many thinking people are seeking answers and solutions in ever greater 'security' measures, 'tougher' legislation and so-called 'deradicalization'. But one cannot legislate against hatred or deradicalize fanaticism. One can only combat these evils through an understanding of the Laws of Occult Science and the individual application of them, as we explained in our article on HOW PEACE LEADS TO WAR. We recommend all our readers study this article, for the causes and remedies of the scourge of terrorism which strews this sorely-trouble earth with death and suffering.

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Mohammed and his teachings

A brief review of the life and teachings of the Prophet

Over the years several readers have asked us why we have omitted to discuss Islam. The simple answer is lack of time. We aim to remedy this omission in this afterword, as well as satisfy those readers who have asked us whether the Koran contains any occult truths. But space forbids us from saying as much as we would like about the Prophet and his teachings, which cannot be covered in a short article. However, we may write at greater length about this important subject in future, but this is not a promise! Meanwhile, we hope that this short summary will be of interest and instruction to all our readers, regardless of their religious beliefs, or lack of any.

The first thing we would say is that no system of real Occult Science can be called complete if the religion of Islam is not mentioned. It is not our intention to write a biography of the Prophet, for there are many such, one of the most readable being that of Washington Irving. Whether they are correct is open to question, for we must be careful when reading such biographies to make due allowance for the authors' prejudices and the exaggerations of the oriental mind. That Mohammed was one of the great Messengers we do not doubt, but whether his Message was clearly understood, then or now, is another matter.

Like many Messengers, Mohammed was very reluctant to take up the work assigned to him, for deep within the mind of all such persons lies concealed the knowledge that much of what they teach will be mutilated by their followers, as we point out in so many of our articles. The mind of the true Teacher is a delicate instrument that can accept the precepts from on High and is capable of understanding the inspiration he receives. But can he always put it into words that everyone else will understand? No! This is impossible, for the masses are not so delicately constructed and lack the capacity to attune with the Divine Truths that come like a blessing from the Realms above, as we learnt in our tale of the Jihadi and the Jinn.

So it is not surprising that when Mohammed first began his Mission, he was ridiculed by many, and even attacked for the views he espoused, especially by those in powerful positions, who feared that the new teachings would undermine their worldly authority and influence, and this indeed came to pass, so that the Teacher had to flee from his native town in fear of his life.

Mohammed was illiterate, and this was a cause for pride with him when once he began to teach the often very elevated verses of the Koran. It proved, said he, that these words were truly inspired by a higher being, for how else could he—an uneducated man—utter such divine sayings? There is a great deal of truth in this, for we know how it is told that Mohammed refused over and over again the orders of the great Angel that came to him in the silence, and there is one most impressive account of how, when facing the Angel, who was angry with him on account of his refusal to go forth on his Mission, Mohammed turned away and looked in a different direction, so as not to face the Angel in his wrath. But wherever he looked, there was the Angel, seated upon a throne in the sky, and he was visible north and west, south and east, and at every point of the compass, staring with blazing eyes at the reluctant Messenger, and at last compelling him to obey.

Like many sensitive and highly strung persons, Mohammed was in need of occasional retreats into the silence, and for this purpose he often retired to a cave on Mount Hira, where he dwelt for a spell in solitude. This practice he kept up during the rest of his life, for it restored to him mental and spiritual balance, strength, and all that was needed for inspiration. He said once, referring to the paltry 'business of life' as it is lived in crowded communities: "Almost the best lot for a true believer is to pasture a flock of sheep on the mountain peaks, thus escaping with his faith far from the world's cares."

Mohammed tried to formulate a true form of worship, based upon sensible living, upon mercy, upon kind deeds and goodness, upon freedom, upon adoration of God's works and love for the Creator. A religion of tolerance especially, a religion based upon inspiration and law, and wisdom, upon a belief in a future life in a better place, which reward must be earned as the misguided Jihadi in our story learned too late to prevent his dreadful crime.

It is known that Mohammed gave way to cruelty, or rather he permitted cruel things to be done in revenge for other people's cruelties; and there he failed. But who shall blame him? Mohammed fought against the worship of idols and false deities. The idea that something of the essential good was lacking in his people was intolerable to the Prophet. They lived in rank superstition, feared fetishes and adored stone gods. Their thinking mind, when they thought at all, was ridden by spirits, jinns and demons, but the supreme reality was unknown to them, and as the Prophet saw it, this meant the death of their souls, and he was right, of course, as our tale shows.

In order to find Truth and Light, Mohammed spent more and more time in the desert. He had visions and dreams, some so terrible that he awoke covered with sweat, and his wife Khadija, if she were present at such a time, had to calm and soothe him. Then he would remain silent and evade all her questionings, or speak in words she could not understand. At last he feared that he was becoming mad, and possessed by an evil spirit, for his mind was filled with poetry and the music of transcendent words and phrases. And she tried to reassure him saying:

"Oh, my dear husband, are you not known as the sincere and trustworthy man, and how can you believe that God would permit you to be deceived in any way? Are you not a sober, pious, charitable and hospitable man? Have you not respected your parents, fed the hungry, clothed the naked, helped the traveller and protected the weak? It is impossible that you should be the sport of lying demons and malicious jinns." Thus she, the dear wife of his heart tried to comfort him in his torment. For his first wife was much older than he, but he loved her and was true to her as long as she lived and protected him to the best of her ability.

But Mohammed asked in turn: "But who can be this Being who seeks me out again and again? Who is he, who has not told me his name and from whom I cannot escape? And again he was seized with anguish, and he trembled and grew red and pale in turn. "There he is again, he is coming!!" He said this when he was wide awake and not dreaming any more. And the stranger, the fierce Angel, was there. And Mohammed, like a little child, concealed himself under Khadija's cloak, to shut out the dreaded vision, like a baby at its mother's breast.

And she covered him with her veil and let down her hair, and seated him upon her knees, embracing him closely, hiding him against her very flesh under her clothing and her black hair. And then the vision disappeared, and he was calm again. And Khadija said: "In that case he is not a lewd jinn, for he respects a woman's chastity. It can only be an angel of God."

How very human all this sounds, and how true. If you, who are reading these words, have ever beheld such strange visitors from the Realms of Light you will know just what Mohammed saw and how he felt, especially as he was a man without any previous occult training. So it is no wonder that he feared greatly and needed comfort at such times, until he became used to the phenomena and had accepted the great and dire task that was placed upon his unwilling shoulders.

And then, one day, the Angel appeared to him once more in the cave at Mount Hira. And in his hand he held a piece of silk upon which there was writing.
"Read," said the Angel.
"I cannot read," replied Mohammed.
"Read," repeated the Angel.
"I cannot," said Mohammed.
"Read," said the Angel for the third time.
"What shall I read?" asked Mohammed.
"Read," was the renewed command.
And Mohammed, in a sudden blaze of illumination read:
'Read, in the name of thy Lord, who hath created all things;
Who hath created man of congealed blood.
Read, by thy most beneficent Lord who taught the use of the pen;
Who teacheth man that which he knoweth not'.
(Koran, surah 96: 1-5)

Mohammed repeated the words written upon the silk, and though illiterate, he understood the message, which was from a book filled with divine secrets. And the Angel confirmed that he had read aright. In this way did he receive the teachings of the Koran and begin his Mission to preach the Word of God. At last the Arabs, like the Jews and the Christians, were to have a book of their own, a sacred text to recite liturgically, and a supernatural law to guide them in the Path of Salvation.

The Prophet's piety, veracity, justice, liberality, clemency, humility and abstinence were well known and all the Islamic writers refer to these in the most generous terms. His charity was so great that he had seldom any money for his own use, or that of his family and on no occasion did he partake of any of the plunder that was the fruit of the many battles waged by his followers in later years. The Islamic scholar Al Bukhari said: "God offered him the keys of the treasures of the earth, but he would not accept them."

Is this a man of low morality, worldly ambition and violence, as some now allege? No! Such a man could never have succeeded in the work Mohammed did, and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of his intentions. He is described by his contemporaries as a man of piercing wit and excellent judgment; a person of few words, with a cheerful temper, pleasant and familiar in conversation, kind to his friends, condescending to his inferiors, and did not suffer fools gladly. Such was the man, what of the Koran?

As in the Indian holy books, each chapter of the Koran is prefixed by a devout declaration, called the Bismillah, which we mentioned in our introduction to our tale of the Jihadi and the Jinn. The word OM has the same purpose in India. The Jews, for the same reason, used the form: "In the name of the Lord." It is probable that Mohammed really took this formula from the writings of the Magi, who began their chapters with the words: "In the name of the most merciful, just God."

The central doctrine of the Koran is the unity of God, and Mohammed said that the chief aim of his Mission was to restore this truth. For which reason there never was, nor could be, more than one true religion. And he was right, for as we explain in many of our articles, there is only one religion possible, but that is neither the Christian, the Jewish, the Hindu, the Arab, the Chinese, or any other religion now known. The only possible religion is Occult Science, and this is actually more a great Philosophy than a religion, for, as we said earlier, true religion is of the heart, not of words, and it can only be experienced and lived.

Muslims believe that two guardians accompany every man, to observe and write down his actions, being changed every day, and are therefore called 'al Moakkibat', or the angels who continually 'succeed' one another. If we substitute the Higher and lower selves for these angels, this teaching is not so very wrong. There is also a devil, who Mohammed named Iblis, who was once one of the Angels nearest to God's presence, but he fell, says the Koran, because he refused to pay homage to Adam at the command of God. These and many similar teachings in the book can all be traced back to the tenets of Judaism, which also found their way into the Bible.

The division of Islam into several often antagonistic sects began immediately after the death of the Prophet, and will probably continue so long as there are any Muslims left on earth—if only two! These sects and their quarrels do not concern us at all, for the reasons we gave before, namely: that when a great Teacher dies, his followers, being deprived of his personal rulings on all points, will make a mess of it all in the end. This is why the Prophet constructed the Koran, trying in vain to cover all imaginable contingencies, which is not possible for one man to do. So let us turn to the Koran itself to see what we may discover within it.

The first sentence reads: "Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the most merciful, the king of the day of judgement. Thee do we worship, and of thee do we beg assistance. Direct us in the right way." This is true wisdom and true religion of the right sort and we agree with every word of it.

There are twenty-nine chapters in the Koran which begin with certain letters of the alphabet, some with a single one, others with more. These letters are believed to conceal several profound mysteries, the understanding of which has not been communicated to any mortal, except the Prophet himself. There may be a great deal of truth in this, for similar alphabetical ciphers can be found in the Bible and other sacred texts which are keys to the hidden meaning in such writings for those who have been instructed in their use.

Chapter 2 is headed by the letters A.L.M., and what these mean no one can tell either, so let us see what comes next. "Distribute alms out of what we have bestowed." A cynic might exclaim "Ha, the Prophet is after our golden shekels!" But they would be very wrong. For what we have here is a concealed reference to spiritual alms; the giving of good advice in the light of God's Wisdom, so far as we can perceive it; brotherly love and goodwill; sympathy with those who are in difficulty, and not averting our eyes when we behold sorrow, as some do in their callous egotism, but stretching out a helping hand, even if it is at some cost to ourselves. Those who heed this wise advice of the Prophet shall prosper.

"As for the unbelievers," the Chapter continues, "it will be equal to them whether thou admonish them, or do not admonish them; they will not believe. God hath sealed up their hearts and their hearing; a dimness covereth their sight, and they shall suffer a grievous punishment." The Jihadi learned the truth of this when he found himself in hell. As he also learnt that God does not 'punish' anyone, but sends them forth into incarnation after incarnation, so that they too shall learn the great Lesson in the end and turn away from the ways of the world and its beguiling illusions.

One of the things Mohammed taught was predestination; a very sore point indeed when Occult Science teaches us that man has free will, and makes his own destiny. We part from Mohammed in regard to this doctrine for it is untrue in every way and we discuss some of the reasons why in the afterword to the tenth of our Astral Conversations.

Occult Science teaches that we are placed in certain conditions at birth, good, bad or indifferent, and that we use these conditions, each in our own way, and either make a mess of it all or a success. And that is all there is to it. But unless we are indeed very highly evolved, and true Masters in every sense of the word, we have no free will in regard to where and when and why we return to earth again at any time. This is the only thing that is arranged for us; all the rest is for ourselves and our free will. Work this out for yourself if you wish, for we have said all there is to be said about it.

We hope that the few examples we have given you from the Koran will enable you to come to a decision about its value and truth. Read the rest by yourself, and read between the lines, never forgetting that it was composed to teach the learned as well as the unlearned, then and now. The Koran, like all other holy books, including the Bible, has had the same fate among the different classes of men among whom it has been disseminated. It has been the cause of the Highest inspiration to some and the lowest superstition and criminality among others, as we see only too clearly today, when the Prophet's words are twisted to support the ideologies of fanatics and further their evil designs.

occult mysteries