Let Those Who Know Tell Those Who Don't

One day the people of Aksehir asked Nasreddin Hodja to give a sermon on Friday. The Hodja forgot to prepare. On Friday, when he stepped up to the pulpit, he did not know what to say. He thought for a moment, then asked the congregation:

"O congregation, do you know what I am going to tell you?"

"No, Hodja, we don't," said the congregation. "If you don't know, how can I tell you something you don't know?" said the Hodja, and he stepped down from the pulpit and went home.

The next Friday the Hodja climbed into the pulpit again and asked again: "Do you know what I am going to tell you?" The congregation remembered the week before, so this time they said, "Yes, Hodja, we know!" "If you know, there's no need for me to tell you again," said the Hodja, and again he stepped down from the pulpit.

The congregation talked it over: "This time we'll catch him. Half of us will say 'we know', and half of us will say 'we don't'." On the third Friday, when the Hodja climbed into the pulpit and asked again, "Do you know what I am going to tell you?", half the congregation shouted "We know!" and the other half shouted "We don't!"

The Hodja smiled: "Very well. Then let those who know tell those who don't!" And once again he stepped down from the pulpit.

This time, instead of getting cross, the congregation began to laugh. And then those who knew really did begin to tell those who did not: some talked about helping neighbours, some about caring for orphans, some about being truthful. That day there was such a lovely conversation in the mosque courtyard that everyone went home having learned something.

That evening his wife asked the Hodja: "Husband, didn't you give a sermon today either?" The Hodja laughed: "Wife, today I gave the best sermon of all. Everyone taught each other. Knowledge ends when it comes out of one mouth, but it grows when everyone tells everyone else."