There’s a mythological story which
speaks to the reality of, and certainty of death.
Years before Gabriel spoke to the
Virgin Mary, or Moses rolled back the Red Sea, a powerful king named Zaidan
ruled and reigned in a faraway land. The king was proud of his country and his
people, and though he fiercely rendered justice to whom justice was due, he was
also known as a man of rich compassion.
And as you might expect, the good
king’s palace and its adjoining grounds were populated by a multitude of loyal
servants. And as you might also well imagine, the ruler of this great land
enjoyed the services of a few selected stewards whom had proved their loyalty,
and who had ministered to his daily needs over the course of decades.
One servant, in particular, a man
named Abdul, had from time immemorial fulfilled a brief, but (at least from the
king’s point of view) necessary task. Outside of that singular, daily task, he
was “given the run” of the palace, and little else was expected of him.
Oddly enough, when the waning shadows
on the sun dial registered the 6th hour of the afternoon, all
activity in the inner sanctum of the palace ceased, the king mounted his
throne, and a nearby eunuch slammed a mallet on a great silver cymbal. Three
times. And as the last echoes of the great gong ceased to reverberate, a great
door in the back of the massive room opened, and Abdul appeared, attired in
blue and crimson, and marched down the long aisle which separated him from the
ornate throne.
The king’s servants, male and female,
lined each side of the aisle; soldiers on his right. Handmaids on his left; as
Abdul navigated the fifty feet which separated him from the monarch whom he had
grown to love and respect.
Pt. 2
Having reached the foot of the great
throne, Abdul stopped, slammed his arms against his side, drew his left foot
against his right, silently cleared his throat, and shouted the words,
“Remember, oh king…one day you must
die!”
Having uttered those eight fateful
words, he executed a military about face movement, and retraced his steps down
the aisle, and out the main door of the inner sanctum.
And with this, the king stood and made
his way out a side door, and into his adjoining study. As the door closed
behind him, the assembled soldiers and handmaidens drifted back from whence
they’d come; Abdul’s poignant message having impacted not only their beneficent
ruler, but they, themselves.
“Remember, oh king…one day you must
die!”
Abdul might as well have shouted,
“Remember, Hakeem, Remember
Ayishah…one day you must die.”
The message simply never got old. It
was simply too ‘there there.’ And if the king was hyper-sensitive to the
message, Abdul the more so. It seemed to keep him and them focused on the
gravity of life, and the priorities, good, better and best, which surrounded
life.
And, dear readers, as I previously
inferred, having completed his dreary daily task, Abdul marched himself out of
the ornate throne room, and retreated to the servant’s quarters.
Having fulfilled his appointed daily
task for several years, the time came when Abdul began to feel a bit
unfulfilled. And one morning, after breakfast, he approached the king’s
viceroy, and requested an audience with his beloved master.
Pt. 3
Abdul lost no time in explaining
himself, and the viceroy lost no time in approving his request to meet with the
king.
And as quickly as his wish was granted,
Abdul was escorted into the king’s bedroom; (for he often had breakfast in bed).
His monarch smiled, and greeted his favorite servant with,
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of
your company so early in the day, my dear friend?”
Abdul cleared his throat, and spoke.
“Oh king, as important as I count my
daily task, I sense the need of something more, an additional role to take my
mind away from this dread, and dreary subject with which you have invested me;
(but which both you and I believe is so crucial to your life and kingdom”).
To which the king replied,
“Abdul, you have been a faithful
servant and a true friend to me. But if you feel you need some added task, I
will allow it. You know my aged servant, Mohammed, just recently stepped down
as my Steward of Royal Food Stuffs. I had been planning to procure a younger
man to assume his place. But since this role only requires two days each week
in which he mounted his camel, visited the local market, and ordered the
necessary foods and wines, I will allow you to assume this additional role.”
And though any outward change in a
solemn countenance in the king’s presence was considered disrespectful, Abdul
could not contain himself, and a great smile lit up his face.
But since the king sometimes dispensed
with formalities, and since he was alone with his dear friend, he could not
help but emit a resounding laugh; which seemed to rise up from the depths of
his belly.
Pt. 4
And while, Abdul continued to march down the
aisle of the throne room, and shouted the words he’d shouted so many times
before, he assumed the secondary role as the Steward of Royal Food Stuffs, and
made his way to the market on a bi-weekly basis.
A few weeks had passed since the
faithful Abdul had assumed his added duty, and as he was leisurely strolling through
the marketplace, and as he had begun to dicker with a local merchant for three
bushels of dates, and ten kilos of olives, he happened to cast his eyes to the
left, and what he saw caused an involuntary shudder to run up his spine.
Death Incarnate
What, (or perhaps the word is ‘Who’)
greeted his eyes was none other than the Death Angel; (whom, as it fell
together, was, apparently invisible to everyone, but Abdul).
The hideous creature was robed in
black, (but contrary to our modern caricature, he held no scythe or sickle in
his hand). As Abdul looked up at the magnificent being, (for he stood head and
shoulders taller than the steward, and he was built like a proverbial bull) his
black and threatening eyes caused the hair to rise on his arms.
For all his daily proclamations, Adul
had never encountered the subject of his exclamations. Death. He immediately
forgot about the dates and olives, and for that matter gave no thought to his
mode of transportation; the camel which stood three paces away. But rather, he
turned and ran as quickly as his feet could carry him away from the market, and
into the desert. A full hour elapsed before he slowed, and began to walk.
Another hour passed before he noticed the spire of the king’s palace, and he
strode wearily through its main gate.
Pt. 5
Abdul lost no time in approaching the
king, nor did he seek permission to do so; another breach in royal etiquette.
But there was simply no time for etiquette.
He found the king just outside his
royal harem; as he stood interviewing another potential concubine.
Falling down before him, Abdul
exclaimed,
“Oh king, forgive my insolence; just
this once. But allow me to make my plea. As I was in the marketplace today, and
busy with the culinary affairs of my master, I saw something almost
unspeakable. I saw the darkest, most evil creature you can possibly imagine. I
saw the Death Angel. And dear friend (may I call you, ‘friend’) his gaze was
absolutely penetrating, and great fear permeated the recesses of my soul!”
(and)
“Oh king, I gave no thought to the
royal camel, but found my way out of the dark Angel’s presence, and crossed the
desert on foot. Dear king, if I have pleased you, if I have done those things,
and more that has been expected of me, loan me your best camel, and allow me to
flee to the City of Samarra!”
As Abdul looked up from his place on
the floor, he noticed something he had never seen throughout the multiplied
years he’d served the king. A tear ran down the royal cheek, and anger suddenly
registered on his countenance.
“My friend, of course you may borrow
my prize camel. Lose no time! Make haste! Do not delay!”
And with this, Abdul kissed the king’s
feet, rose from the floor, and made good his escape.
Afterward:
Needless to say, the king was incensed,
and immediately ordered a garrison of soldiers to accompany him to the city in
search of the interloper.
Arriving at the marketplace, the king
cast his eyes among the hundred or so booths and stands which greeted him.
Suddenly, he spotted the horrible creature; lingering near the place where his
faithful servant encountered him.
Accompanied by his soldiers, he
approached the dark gruesome beast, and exclaimed,
“Oh Death, my faithful servant, Abdul,
was here just six hours hence, and he told me he saw you, as I see you with my
own eyes now. And my faithful steward and friend, Abdul, claimed you glared at
him, and threatened him with your gruesome countenance! Please give an account
of yourself.”
To which the dark Angel of Death bared
his yellow fangs, but spoke, it seemed, rather softly.
“Oh good king, I did not threaten your
servant. I was only surprised to see him here. For you see, I have an appointment
with him tonight
…in the City of Samarra.”
*for those folks who are familiar with old myths and legends, you may have noticed that I carefully blended two ancient mid-eastern myths into one story.
(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 79. By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending.
If you wish to copy, save or share, please include the credit line, above
*for those folks who are familiar with old myths and legends, you may have noticed that I carefully blended two ancient mid-eastern myths into one story.
(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 79. By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending.
If you wish to copy, save or share, please include the credit line, above
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