Sun, The

( Ferishtah’s Fancies , 5.) Some one told one of Ferishtah’s pupils that it had been reported that “God once a umed on earth a human shape,” and he desired to know how the strange idea arose. Ferishtah replied that in days of ignorance men took the sun for God. “Let it be considered as the symbol of the Supreme,” said the Dervish. “There must be such an Author of life and light somewhere: let us suppose the sun to be that Author. This ball of fire gives us all we enjoy on earth, and so inspires us with love and praise. If we eat a fig we praise the planter; and so on up to the sun, which gathers to himself all love and praise. The sun is fire, and more beside. Does the force know that it gives us what it does? Must our love go forth to fire? If we must thank it, there must be purpose with the power—a humanity like our own. Power has no need of will or purpose; and no occasion for beneficence when all that is, so is and so must be. As these qualities imply imperfection, let us ‘eject the man, retain the orb,’ and then ‘what remains to love and praise?’ We cannot be expected to thank insentient things. No! man’s soul can only be moved by what is kindred soul: man’s way it receives good; man’s way it must make acknowledgment. If man were an angel, his love and praise, right and fit enough now, would go forth idly. Man’s part is to send love forth, even if it go astray.” “But,” says the objector, “man is bound by man’s conditions, can only judge as good and right what his faculty adjudges such: how can we then accept in this one case falsehood for truth? We lack an union of fire with flesh; but lacking is not gaining: is there any trace of such an union recorded?” Ferishtah replies, “Perhaps there may be; perhaps the greatly yearned-for once befell; perhaps the sun was flesh once.” The pupil demands “An union inconceivable once was fact?” The Dervish replies, “There is something pervading the sun which it does not consume: is it not fitter to stand appalled before a conception unattainable by man’s intelligence?” Firdausí, in the Sháh Námeh, records that Húsheng was the first who brought out fire from stone; and from that circumstance he founded the religion of the fire-worshippers, calling the flame which was produced the light of the Divinity. Húsheng was the second king of the Peshadian dynasty; from his time the fire faith seems to have slept till the appearance of Zerdusht, in the reign of Gushtasp, many centuries afterwards, when Isfendiyár propagated it by the sword. After Húsheng had discovered fire by hurling a stone against a rock, thereby producing a spark, which set light to the herbage, he made an immense fire, and gave a royal entertainment, calling it the Feast of Siddeh. The lyric explains that the divine element of fire is enshrined in the earthly flint when the spark escapes; the relationship is difficult to remember. So God was once incarnate in the form of man; and this some find it as hard to believe.