The Tale of Wheat and Barley: A Sufi Parable

A renowned scholar once visited the great Sufi Master Bahaudin Naqshband. Filled with curiosity and admiration, he asked:

“Through your character, teachings, and clear capacity for goodness, you are recognized as the Master of the Age by both your followers and the public. Was it always this way for you?”

Bahaudin replied calmly, “No, it was not always this way.”

The scholar continued:
“The early Sufis were often misunderstood. They were seen as imitators, ridiculed by scholars, and feared by those in authority. Some of the greatest Sufi teachers were dismissed by the learned as undesirable or untrustworthy. Yet, if they contributed to the knowledge and practice of the Way, were they not obviously Adepts?”

Bahaudin answered, “Some are evidently Adepts; others appear to be nothing at all.”

The scholar pressed further, “Where, then, lies the essence of a true dervish?”

“It lies in their reality,” Bahaudin explained, “not in their outward appearance.”

“Do such people not have qualities by which they can be recognized and assessed?” the scholar asked.

Bahaudin shared a parable in response:
“Let me tell you the story of wheat and barley. Once, people planted wheat in their fields. They became accustomed to its growth and lived on bread made from its flour. But there came a time when the land needed to be planted with barley instead.

“When the barley sprouted, literalists—like many scholars—cried out, ‘This is not wheat!’

“‘True,’ said the barley growers, ‘but it is a cereal, and it is cereals we need to survive.’

 

 

“Yet, the literalists called them charlatans. Many times, when barley was cultivated, the uproar was so loud and persuasive that the barley growers were driven away. Without barley, people had no flour to eat and starved, yet they believed, misled by their literal-minded advisors, that avoiding barley was for the best.”

The scholar pondered this and asked, “Then what we call ‘Sufism’ is like the cereal in your story? In truth, we have been calling ‘wheat’ or ‘barley’ by their names, not realizing they are simply manifestations of something deeper: cereals.”

“Yes,” said Bahaudin.

The scholar continued, “Wouldn’t it be better if people were taught about the essence of ‘cereals’ instead of focusing on ‘wheat’ or ‘barley’?”

Bahaudin replied, “It would be better if it could be done. But most people, for their own survival and the well-being of others, still need to work for the crop—whether wheat or barley—so they may eat. Only a few truly understand the essence of cereals. These are the Guides, the ones who know the deeper truths.

“When a man realizes that people may starve, his duty is to provide whatever food he can. Those who are not in the fields working towards this goal often spend their time theorizing about grain, but they lack the right to do so because they have neither tasted it nor contributed to its production.”

The scholar reflected on this and said, “It seems wrong to ask people to do things when they don’t fully understand why they should do them.”

Bahaudin responded, “It is far worse to spend so much time explaining that a tree is about to fall, that by the time you’ve finished your explanation, your audience has already been crushed beneath it.”

Reflection on the Story

This profound Sufi tale illustrates that the essence of wisdom lies beyond surface labels and appearances. It teaches us to look deeper and appreciate the fundamental truths that sustain life and spiritual growth. In a world filled with literalists and distractions, it is the work of the Guides to ensure that people have the nourishment—physical and spiritual—they need to thrive.

Whether you call it wheat, barley, or Sufism, the underlying essence remains the same. It is this essence that nourishes and sustains us on the journey of life.