ed cleric。 He made up for the modesty of his
intellect with the power of his tongue； God bless it。 Each Friday； he so
animated his congregation； so moved them to tears that some would cry until
they fainted or dried up and withered away。 Don’t get me wrong； unlike other
clerics with the gift of preaching； he himself didn’t weep。 On the contrary；
while everyone else cried； he intensified his oration without a blink as if to
chastise the congregation。 In all probability； the gardeners； royal pages； halva
makers； riffraff and clerics like himself became his lackeys because they
enjoyed the tongue lashing。 Well； this man was no dog after all； no sir； he was
a human being—to be human is to err—and before those enthralled crowds；
he lost himself when he saw that intimidating throngs of people was as
pleasurable as bringing them to tears。 When he understood that there was
much more bread to be made in this new venture； he went over the top and
had the nerve to say the following：
“The sole reason for rising prices； plague and military defeat lies in our
forgetting the Islam of the time of our Glorious Prophet and falling sway to
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falsehoods。 Was the Prophet’s birth epic read in memory of the dead back
then？ Was the fortieth…day ceremony performed； where sweets like halva and
fried dough are offered to honor the dead？ When Muhammad lived； was the
Glorious Koran recited melodically； like a song？ Were the prayers called
haughtily and pompously to show how close one’s Arabic was to an Arab’s？
W