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The following story found on the internet is informing my current practice.
---THE YEZIDI ORIGIN MYTH
"Once upon a time, A Yezidi shepherd was bringing his flock home to the mountain cave where he lived. Suddenly the sky was torn asunder by a blinding flash of lightning whilst, almost simultaneously, there followed such a roar of thunder as would have deafened a giant. The shepherd flung himself down upon the bare rock, and hiding his face, prayed to the great Power of Life and Death that he might be spared. Then, looking up, he saw an Angel standing in the middle of the Heavens with an enormous spear in his hand. There followed another terrifying clap of thunder, and something was hurled from the sky down onto the crags below. A great gust of wind arose and swept over the mountain tops. The valley shook. Then all was quiet again. Gradually recovering from his great shock the shepherd rose from the ground and looked around. He saw that a huge cedar had been struck by the lightning and was lying across a deep ravine. On the further bank lay a beautiful peacock badly hurt but still alive. The shepherd crawled across the fallen tree trunk and took the dying bird in his arms. After washing its wounds in a nearby stream, he carried it into the cave which was his home. Without any thought of sleep he tended it throughout the long night.
When the morning came the peacock had completely recovered and spoke to the shepherd in a human voice, saying: 'Be not afraid, man, you were kind to me in my misfortune, so I will reward you and all your descendants. I am the Spirit of Evil thrown out of heaven by my twin, the Spirit of Good. But I am not conquered. On earth, as in Heaven, I shall continue the struggle. Amongst men I shall spread sorrow and instill my poison in their hearts so that the great conflict will be implanted within them. Teach your descendants to accept Evil as you have accepted me. Be compassionate towards evil both in yourselves and in others. Delight me with songs. Placate me with prayers. Tend me as you have tended me last night.' So saying, the Angel Peacock, Melek Taus as we call him, spread his wings and flew away over the inaccessible mountain-tops.
That is why we Yezidi, the descendants of that compassionate shepherd, sing hymns to appease and glorify the Spirit of Evil to this very day. Our hymns are scorned by the rest of the world. Both Christians and Muslims alike hate and persecute us. They call us 'Muraddun' - Infidels and Devil-Worshippers. Our priests, Qawasls, travel secretly and do not wear priestly robes. They carry with them, hidden away from Muslim and Christian eyes, the effigy of a peacock. When we pray, we do not turn towards Mecca like the Muslims but towards the Polar Star, the immovable source of light in darkness, the point of the axis round which the whole universe resolves. We honor Wednesday as our day of rest, not Friday like the Muslims, nor Sunday like the Christians. A quarter of all we earn we give to the poor. Churches we have none, for if we built them they would be at once destryed by either Muslims or Christians. But we are not angry. We do not hate our persecutors because our religion bids us to be tolerant."---
It is the idea of being tolerant and compassionate towards that which is considered evil, which i find the most moving, its not an immediately accessible idea to the way i was educated. The acceptence of evil and even the care of those whom maybe considered evil is a truly powerful idea, it reminds me of the story my father told me about an ex alcoholic Christian women who visits prisons talking with the inmates, with the knowledge in her heart as she expressed it to him that none of them are sinners.
A broad belief that evil is an inherant component of gods creation. Thats a startling idea, without much social acceptence. People usually apply the word evil as a justification to then commit all sorts of destructive and evil acts to that which they have removed the sacred nature from, or more commonly use as a scapegoat to deal with there own evil that dwells within them. |
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