One post in a social media account opened by his fans shows Fr. Thomas Michel lying on the ground with several stray dogs sitting around him. They are at peace being near him, just as kids in another photo who joyfully give hugs to this man of God. I saw him for the first time more than two decades ago in a symposium in Istanbul dedicated to research on the life and teachings of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (d. 1960), one of the leading Islamic scholars of the twentieth century. Now not surprising at all, he was giving hugs to all that came by, including myself with other youth reading Nursi.

We lost Fr. Michel recently (November 24, 2025). He was 84. A big loss for interfaith dialogue practitioners, Fr. Michel has left behind a legacy of true love on behalf of God, dedication to community work, and promoting dialogue among members of different faith traditions. He never abstained from praising good behavior and charitable work regardless of faith differences. He was so committed to education and dialogue that, despite his age and illness, he continued to work for a school in Thailand, where he passed away. One picture shows him happy as he stood in front of a girls’ dorm still under construction.

Even while suffering from health problems, he continued to deliver academic papers and lectures to the last minute – if the doctors had not disallowed him from travel, he would have flown from Thailand to the United States in September for a conference by Respect Graduate School to honor Fethullah Gülen’s life and service. I remember he had to stay in the US during the lockdown due to Covid. After it was over, he wrote to me he was buying a one-way ticket to Thailand to teach at a school, which he did until his last breath.

Another picture shows a dog on guard where the remains of Fr. Michel is kept. As one enters the premise, one can see an epitaph by Fr. Michel himself, which summarizes his life work: “Helping people understand each other is worth spending a lifetime on.” There are thousands of friends he had over the years from around the world who would firmly testify that Uncle Tom lived such a life.

In this issue, Abdullah Aymaz’s eulogy for Uncle Tom is worth reading.

Scientific positivism assumes history and social events to follow a straight line. In this view, divine revelation and the virtuous life it prescribes are not factored in, for human intellect is accepted as the only source of knowledge. Political, psychological, and sociological factors are seen as the only factors shaping history.

After the Second World War, however, some started questioning this approach, especially as postmodernity started to dominate the public space. Many Muslim intellectuals have also been under the influence of these developments, while many of them have tried to interpret historical events not only through what was recorded, but more so with “wisdom.” Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (d. 1960) was one those. In this article, we will explore Nursi’s wisdom-based commentary about some events that took place among the Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh).

Several conflicts and battles that brought Companions of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, against one another, are some of the most confusing and heartbreaking events in Islamic history. These conflicts resulted in Muslims splitting into camps that continue until today. Upon being asked about the nature of the battles starting in the time of Ali ibn Abi Talib, Nursi does not immediately jump into an analysis of thousands of authentic, weak, and fabricated narrations (15th Letter). He focuses more on the main inferences from all these narrations and analyzes ideas about the emergence of the Battle of the Camel, Siffin, and Karbala.

According to Nursi, the Battle of the Camel between Ali ibn Abi Talib and Talha ibn Ubaydullah, Zubayr ibn Awwam, and Aisha Bint Abu Bakr, was a struggle between “absolute justice” and “relative justice.” When this debate in search of justice was carried on to the field of politics, conflict became inevitable. It is important to note that this demand for justice by the Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) (sahabah) is evidence to the great progress and sensitivity they achieved in human rights at that time. For a fair judgment, it is also necessary to know about the previous lives of these Companions. While Nursi emphasizes that Ali was right, he refrains from historical details, such as Aisha being in Mecca at that time and not experiencing the atmosphere in Medina, or that she had met and agreed with Imam Ali before the Battle of the Camel. Moreover, Nursi describes other reasons cited by historians as nothing more than “excuses,” i.e., not real reasons.

In all his works, Nursi usually tries to address possible questions that may occupy people’s minds. He does the same in this matter (15th Letter) and also explains why Ali was relatively unsuccessful compared to previous caliphs. His explanations here show that he moves beyond historical details pertaining to the particulars of those events and that he focuses more on universal interpretations and lessons that can be learned through them. We understand from Nursi’s explanations that, alongside visible political actors, there are key figures in history who shape the developments with their thoughts and ideas. Ali was a key figure in history from many angles: he was the Prophet’s son-in-law and being cousin at the same time. He stood at the rare, critical place where perfect representation of both religion and politics was embodied in his person. Throughout his time as the caliph, he demonstrated that in the politics-religion relationship, religion is primary and takes higher priority. Politics feed on ideology. Politics is a carrier. If politics lacks value, it turns into brute force and vanity. Indeed, throughout history, great people from Ali’s lineage have succeeded in keeping the middle path in the relationship between religion and politics, thanks to the lessons they learned from this painful event in history. Nursi says that as a result of this incident, Ali and his family gained “a spiritual reign much higher than those of political actors.”

Nursi sees Ali’s confrontation with Muawiya ibn Abu Sufyan at Siffin as the battle of the “caliphate” against the “sultanate.” In other words, during his reign, Ali was following the groundbreaking principles of Islam on human rights and while doing so he took into consideration the Hereafter, for that is where justice will be served in absolute sense. Muawiya, on the other hand, thought that if he could set up the sultanate system, which would pass from father to son, there would be no fights for the throne, and therefore Muslims would be at peace and no blood would be spilled. The difference in their respective approaches to politics was while Ali was in favor of strict adherence to original ruling (azimah), Muawiya preferred an easier option permissible under certain circumstances (ruhsah).

Nursi theorizes that ​​the struggle of Husayn ibn Ali against the Umayyads, which was the beginning of a great break in history, was the “fighting for religion against nationality.” According to Nursi, the Umayyads kept Arab nationalism as a basis for their ideology and prioritized nationalism instead of relying on Islamic bonds. This was damaging in two ways, especially considering the fact that Islam was rapidly expanding to other nations during their reign: First, this policy damaged relationships with other nations. Second, favoritism emerged because of nationalism, and this resulted in a loss of justice. This was completely against the spirit of Islam which has cut through the racism of the Age of Ignorance (Jahiliyyah); in Islam there is no difference between a noble Qurayshi and an Abyssinian slave (See, Muslim, Imara 53-54; Abu Dawud, Adab 111; Ibn Majah, Fitan 7; Ahmad Ibn Hanbal, al-Musnad 2:488). Therefore, Imam Husayn fought for the freedom given to people by religious bonds in the face of the nationalism he saw in Yazid. He fought rightly in his case and eventually died a martyr.

At this point, Nursi raises some questions, which make sense in a context that values divine revelation: If Husayn was on the right side, why did he fail? Why did the divine Destiny and Compassion allow him to be subjected to such a tragic end? Why were Husayn and his family treated so harshly?

The first part of Nursi’s explanations includes socio-psychological analyses. The second part contains interesting metaphysical analyses from the point of view of destiny. According to Nursi, the idea of revenge against the Arab nation, not because of the close followers of Imam Husayn but because of the wounded national prides of other nations that joined him, damaged the pure and bright careers of Husayn and his followers and caused their defeat.

The wisdom behind this disastrous end, from the perspective of destiny, is that Hasan and Husayn became candidates for a spiritual sultanate as they are the grandsons of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). The perfect harmony of politics with religion in this world is unattainable. This disastrous end showed the ugliness of politics to all the descendants of the Prophet (pbuh). Thus, instead of being ordinary governors, they became the friends of God (awliya).

Nursi also reflects on the problem of evil. According to him, there must be a meaningful explanation to the brutal murder of Imam Husayn and his family who were unable to defend themselves. In civilizations in which divine revelation is upheld, human free will is evaluated together with God’s will. The human is free, but this freedom is within the broad universal will of God. As a rule, God is on the side of the righteous. If the opposite happens, there must be another logical answer. Here, Nursi seeks the answer to this problem.

Nursi says that there were four reasons that caused merciless cruelty during the Umayyad reign. 1) Ruthless politics which adopts, “Persons can be sacrificed for the government’s security and the continuation of public order,” as a principle. 2) Cruel racism or nationality – and the Umayyad reign was based on nationality – which adopts the cruel principle of “Everything can be sacrificed for the good of the race or nation.” 3) The historical rivalry between Umayyads and Hashemites continued with some individuals like Yazid, the son of Muawiya, who treated them with merciless cruelty. 4) The Umayyads viewed the people of other nations as slaves, even if they became Muslims. The fact that these non-Arab people joined the side of Husayn hoping to avenge their wounded national pride provoked the Umayyad’s racial urges, which led to the infamous massacre.

Nursi adds that these four reasons are apparent reasons and explains what will become clear when this sad event is taken into consideration from the perspective of destiny, where all the reasons are aligned at once. “Imam Husayn and his relatives were rewarded with a spiritual kingdom so valuable and a spiritual rank so elevated that the suffering they endured at Karbala pales in comparison and would seem to them easy enough to bear. Consider the rank that privates may attain through martyrdom after an hour’s torture, which others obtain only after a decade of effort. If these martyred privates were asked how God treated them, they would answer that they had earned too much in return for too little a cost.”

Fethullah Gülen elaborates further on the subject. He says that the revolution experienced by the Companions of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), thanks to Islam, brought them to the top in terms of human rights and that there was a conflict with societies that did not reach the same level in this regard. As a result, the Companions, who reached an extraordinary point in defending their rights, came into conflict with the communities that were deprived of the same upbringing.

Gülen also points out the positive aspects caused by those factious events. Just like when you scratch a tree, it alerts and renews itself, these events protected the religion and ensured the systematization of all Islamic sciences. Experiencing these unpleasant events, following the geographical expansion that came at a speed not seen in the history of humanity, taught an incredible lesson in terms of protecting religion by systematizing the Islamic sciences and highlighting the sensitive place of politics, which is the most difficult field of the representation of religion in human life (See, Zihin Harmanı, pp. 154-161; Bahar Neşidesi, pp. 252-260.)

Historical events can be analyzed from many different angles. In this matter, Nursi’s approach teaches us two things: First, it is not easy to find the truth among thousands of narrations in historical events where great conflicts took place. The second is that we should try to see the hidden wisdom behind the events. Unbiased historians can achieve the first, at least to a degree, but being successful at both the first and the second with regards to the Islamic history depends on multiple factors. These factors include knowing the isnad system—which is crucial in the transmission of historical narrations that play an important role in the preservation of religion—looking into the matter comprehensively and with priority to canonical decrees and sound reports, and trying to explore the possible wisdom that lies behind the events as suggested by the Qur’an.

References

• Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, The Risale-i Nur Collection, The Letters (Epistles on Islamic Thought, Belief, and Life), Translated by Huseyin Akarsu, The Light Inc., New Jersey 2007.
• Hilmi Ziya Ülken, Uyanış Devirlerinde Tercümenin Rolü, Türkiye İş Bankası Kültür Yayınları, İstanbul 2020.
• Fethullah Gülen, Zihin Harmanı, Nil Publications, Istanbul 2011; Bahar Neşidesi, pp. 252-260, Sureyya Publications, 2017.

“Ideology is the marriage of the truth with the apocryphal whereas wisdom is the distinction of the former from the others,” (1) says Cemil Meriç, a prominent Turkish intellectual figure, philosopher, and influencer of twentieth century Turkey. Wisdom is the property of West and East together; it’s the private garden of all humanity, a shared ocean of advancement for the sons and daughters of Adam. The profound knowledge leading to wisdom is a bowl which is uniting rather than segregating, a line drawn to encompass, not to dissect. A short glimpse across the flipped pages of history is enough to come across a handful of people who lived as light-houses, illuminating the way to wisdom, despite using various languages and separate tools.

The tradition of storytelling

Stories are as old as humanity. They are vessels across the ocean of wisdom. Storytelling was used by Buddha in his Jatakas, Rumi in the Masnawi, Bidpai in Kalilah and Dimnah. Many children of the West prefer to embrace novels. (2) On the other hand, old wise masters of the East used allegories and parables. They preferred to describe an elephant as a water spout (trunk) (3), a fan (ear) (4), a pillar (leg) (5), or a throne (back) (6). They knew understanding an elephant’s entire being would be beyond the limits of comprehension for a majority of people. Whence Prophet Muhammad had been asked about the content of the scrolls sent down to Abraham, peace be upon both, he replied, “It was full of parables” (7).

Bidpai (from Sanskrit Vidya-pati, meaning chief scholar) was a wise man of India. He lived in the 3^rd century BC,[i] and he decided to correct the oppression and wrongdoings of a young Indian Emperor of his time, Dabshalim by teaching him wisdom he collected from the ancient times (8). Though the main sources of the stories are not known to us, they were still being told a millennium later. In 570 AD, the ruler of Persia, Khosroes Noushirawan, after having received the information of that book, sent Barzouyeh, court physician, on a mission to India to translate the book into Persian (more precisely into Pahlavi, i.e. Middle Persian). These stories were translated into Arabic two centuries later, and into Hebrew from Arabic – and possibly from its Sanskrit originals (9). And this lineage of translations gave fruit to more than two hundred versions of the book in about fifty different languages.

Said Nursi

Said Nursi is another man of wisdom, one of recent history. Being born into life in an Eastern Anatolian village in 1877, until he passed in 1960, he lived through the collapse of an empire and the rebuilding of a country as a republic. He experienced the reigns of constitutional monarchy, oppression, military coups, and democracy. He dedicated his life to the survival of religious and ethical connections, in contrast to many of his contemporaries. During the last half of his life, he focused on extolling the virtues of education and belief to the extent that he did not bother at all about the developments of the World War II, which was basically destroying the world.

Nursi diagnosed society’s problems as falling under three categories: ignorance, poverty and dissension. His Risale-i Nur (the Collection of Epistles of Light) was a cure to these ills. He authored this collection of several thousand pages under the harsh conditions of captivity, exile, imprisonment, and surveillance.

Before writing his Risale, Said Nursi preached his wisdom to the villagers living around him, in the desolate places of Anatolia. He used the same method as Bidpai, i.e. via parables and allegories. Skimming through his primary epistles in “the Short Words” is sufficient enough to catch a glimpse of the profound wisdom woven through his stories.

I want to focus on one of Said Nursi’s parables. It is from the first treatise of the collection, “Nur’un İlk Kapısı” (the First Gate of the Light). The second lesson is reiterated in his masterpiece as “Mesnevi-i Nuriye” (the Seedbed of Light), and later in “Eighth Word” in a slightly different and more detailed form. It is the story of a desert-dweller jumping into a well when threatened by a lion (10).

The story

A person (actually Nursi talks about two brothers in order to compare positive and negative responses to the mystery of the universe) finds himself in a desolate wilderness. He suddenly hears a terrifying sound and sees that a great lion is about to attack him. While he is fleeing, he comes across a waterless well sixty yards deep, and in his fear jumps into it. After falling halfway down the well, his hands meet a tree growing out of the wall. He clings to it. He soon sees two animals gnawing through the tree’s two roots. Then he looks up and sees the lion waiting, and when he looks down with frustration he sees a dragon, its mouth as big as the mouth of the well. Then he looks back at the tree and notices with surprise that even though it is a fig-tree, it is bearing the fruits of thousands of trees, including some looking fancy and delicious but ultimately intoxicating and poisonous.

The responses of the two brothers bifurcates in Nursi’s narration. The good brother, whose good morals give him good thoughts, and good thoughts showing him the good side of everything, goes ahead with the realization of these strange happenings being connected to someone. He concludes that behind everything are the commands of a hidden ruler, who is watching him and testing him. His fear turns into wonder, and that wonder gives the fruit of love towards that hidden hand, leading him to cry out: “O ruler of this place! I have happened upon you and I take refuge with you. I am your servant and I want to please you. I am searching for you.” After he makes this supplication, the walls of the well suddenly part, and a door opens onto a wonderful, pleasant, quiet garden. Indeed, the dragon’s mouth transforms into the door, and both it and the lion take on the forms of two servants, inviting him to enter. The lion even becomes a docile horse for him to ride.

Wisdom of the story

Even while listening to the story for the first time, one can match most of the allegorical details mentioned in the story with real life counterparts. A short reference is provided as Table 1.

Table 1. Correspondence between the metaphors used in the parable and the truths behind them.

Beyond these, it’s astonishing to realize how perfectly the story simplifies the very essential concerns of each concious individual, such as the purpose of this life, reaching the Creator beyond the veil of creation, the reality of death, the compliance of destiny with the responsibility of actions, and so forth. The story also sets forth answers to the three basic questions asked by all humanity:

“Where are you coming from?”

“What is your destination?”

“What is your task in this world?” (11, 12)

Search for the source of wisdom

The First Station

The clever son of Russian Tsardom, Leo Tolstoy, welcomed me with his deep contemplations on life, death, and religion in the preface of his book, A Confession. Tolstoy was mentioning the “story of wisdom,” but from the perspective of bad-mannered brother:

There is an Eastern fable, told long ago, of a traveler overtaken on a plain by an enraged beast. Escaping from the beast he gets into a dry well, but sees at the bottom of the well a dragon that has opened its jaws to swallow him. And the unfortunate man, not daring to climb out lest he should be destroyed by the enraged beast, and not daring to leap to the bottom of the well lest he should be eaten by the dragon, seizes a twig growing in a crack in the well and clings to it. His hands are growing weaker and he feels he will soon have to resign himself to the destruction that awaits him above or below, but still he clings on. Then he sees that two mice, a black one and a white one, go regularly round and round the stem of the twig to which he is clinging and gnaw at it. And soon the twig itself will snap and he will fall into the dragon’s jaws. The traveler sees this and knows that he will inevitably perish; but while still hanging he looks around, sees some drops of honey on the leaves of the twig, reaches them with his tongue and licks them (13).

Before journeying towards the next station, the following is how Tolstoy transcribes the story into his case:

So I too clung to the twig of life, knowing that the dragon of death was inevitably awaiting me, ready to tear me to pieces; and I could not understand why I had fallen into such torment. I tried to lick the honey which formerly consoled me, but the honey no longer gave me pleasure, and the white and black mice of day and night gnawed at the branch by which I hung. I saw the dragon clearly and the honey no longer tasted sweet. I only saw the inescapable dragon and the mice, and I could not tear my gaze from them. And this is not a fable but the real unanswerable truth intelligible to all.

While following Tolstoy within his profound yet gloomy commentary on the standing of human “self,” Nursi’s voice has shaken my mind again, answering the stated, unanswerable truth, as follows:

Death is not terrifying as it appears to be superficially… for believers, death is to be discharged from the burdensome duties of life. And for them it is a rest from worship, which is the instruction and training in the arena of trial of this world. It is also a means of their rejoining friends and relatives, ninety-nine out of a hundred of whom have already departed for the next world. And it is a means of entering their true homeland and eternal abodes of happiness. It is also an invitation to the gardens of Paradise from the dungeon of this world. And it is the time to receive their wage from the munificence of the Most Compassionate Creator in return for service rendered to Him… Yes, for the people of belief, death is the door to Divine mercy, while for the people of misguidance, it is the pit of everlasting darkness (14).

The Second Station

While skimming through Arabic translation of the book by Abdullah ibn Muqaffa from Barzouyeh’s original Persian, I came across Barzouyeh’s own version of the “story of wisdom.” His version, which was written thirteen centuries before, was just parallel to Tolstoy’s. It was an allegory of his own search for truth, with the details only slightly altered:

…I therefore compared the human race to a man who, flying from a furious elephant, goes down into a well. He suspends himself from two branches which are at the brim of it whilst his feet rest upon something projecting out of its sides, which prove to be the heads of four serpents appearing out of their holes. At the bottom, he discovers a dragon… (15)

After underlining small yet clear differences between Barzouyeh’s version and Tolstoy’s – including the introduction of four serpents and a furious elephant – we can leave the second station.

The Third Station

After being translated into Greek in the 11^th century and into Latin in the 13^th by a Christian, John of Capua, the book appeared in Europe in several languages close to the end of 15^th century, right after the invention of printing. The rendering of John of Capua’s Latin manuscript into Italian by Anton-Francesco Doni fostered the first English translation of the book by Sir Thomas North, in 1568. The title of North’s translation was, Fables of Bidpai: The Morall Philosophie of Doni (16).

Swung back to 16^th century from ibn Muqaffa’s Arabic text, 750 AD, a surprise was waiting for me at the third station. While skimming through North’s English translation, I came across the “story of wisdom” in the middle of the book – except this one was apparently not in the Arabic manuscript, save Barzouyeh’s preface, as already mentioned above.

Jane Stevenson writes in her piece in the University of Toronto Quarterly on the manuscript’s translation adventure, that Doni’s Italian version – compiled of forty-one tales, thirty-four of which are from the Persian manuscript – as a rehashed version. These thirty-four stories are also shared between Bidpai’s narrations and Barzouyeh’s (17).

Most probably, the courtesy of our “story of wisdom” is given to Barzouyeh due to the preface text appearing in the Arabic version. Yet interestingly, “the story of wisdom” in North’s English translation appears more similar to Tolstoy and Nursi’s narrations, as it mentions neither a furious elephant nor four serpents. It most resembles Nursi’s story, where the traveler comes into a large plain after passing through thick and large woods. Differently in North’s version, there are four lions attacking rather than a single one.

The following quote from Thomas North’s lesson is significant to exhibit how the core of the “death – lion allegory” is lost through the influence of his contemporary culture: “The foure Lions the foure elements, which feeke ftill to deuour man” (18). This also gives us a hint about the case of Barzouyeh’s addition of four serpents. Barzouyeh was saying, “…the four serpents are the four humors in the human body which being disturbed in their mutual action become many deadly poisons…” Medieval medicine believed four faculties in the human body caused illnesses in their mutual discord. Noticeably, both of these allegories, missing in Nursi’s text, have been proven wrong/mythical via modern knowledge of science and medicine.

Comparison of differences

The only demanding explanation of the significant differences between Barzouyeh’s story and the Medieval European translations would be thinking of a second Hebrew manuscript which parented John of Capua’s Latin manuscript. Otherwise assuming the Latin version being translated from Joel’s 12^th century Hebrew narration of ibn Muqaffa text, would leave the source of the differences in the “story of wisdom” in dark. That second version of 8^th century AD text, in Hebrew, was likely compiled under an Abbasid Caliph, as argued by some scholars, and should have been directly translated from Sanskrit originals.

Turkish newspaper columnist and author, Abdullah Aymaz, in a conversation with a Buddhist scholar, Venerable Bup-Hyun,[ii] throws light onto the issue:

… I narrated him the story told by Said Nursi in the Eighth Word and later asked: ‘Does that story exist in your religious texts?’ He replied, ‘Yes it does, but instead of a lion we have an elephant and also the dragon has four heads. We too have black and white mice and in place of fruits we have a poisonous honey. You can also find it in Jatakas, told by Buddha (19).

If we come to the last main difference between the four versions of the story, the existence of honey inside the well, we see that both Barzouyeh and North are talking about a beehive whereas Tolstoy is mentioning some drops of honey on the leaves of the twig. In contrast to these, Nursi does not mention honey in the story. Rather he talks about numerous types of fruits coming out of fig tree’s branch, some of which are poisonous though they look sweet. Nursi’s analogy leads to nourishing pearls of wisdom such as:

1. “Dissolute, forbidden pleasures of youth are like poisonous honey.” (20).
2. “As pleasure’s disappearance causes pain, pain’s disappearance causes pleasure” (21).
3. “Man’s accountability requires opening the door to the reason and not removing the power of choice” (22).
4. “This world’s adornments are meant to rouse our appetite. As they are temporary and give pain upon separation, they are here only to instruct in wisdom, to arouse gratitude, and to encourage us to seek the permanent originals of which they are copies” (23).

Approaching the source as the last station

Although it is hard to historically detect the origin of the “story of wisdom,” and we’re not able to trace it beyond Barzouyeh, it is evident from the previous discussion that the very source of the story is not himself. A reasonable scenario would be accepting the story existing in the original compilation of Pañchatantra, in Sanskrit, and in the Jataka stories of Buddha.

Moreover, the inner-consistency of the story and the perfection of allegories give the fragrance of a heavenly wisdom rather than a carnal production. Maybe that is why Nursi summarized the Eighth Word as, “… interpreting an important mystery of the verses on the essence of this world, the essence of the human, and in humanity the meaning of religion, via a beautiful and luminary parable which has its original in the Scriptures of Abraham…” (24).

The Story of Wisdom and the Qur’an

It’s worthwhile to mention several tips from the book called “al-Hakim,” which literally means “full of wisdom.”

The scriptures sent to Prophet Abraham are mentioned in the Qur’an at only one place, the ending verses of the Chapter of A’la (the High): “This is surely contained in the former Scrolls: The Scrolls of Abraham and Moses” (25).

Preceding verses have a comparison of two people coming up with opposite responses to the advice of the Messenger: the mindful one who stands in awe of the Lord, and the wicked one remaining aloof from God (26). Later on, the punishment due to the latter’s heedlessness is described: “He will neither die therein (to be saved from punishment) nor live” (27). This description is consistent to the case of the man holding the twig inside the well.

The Qur’an’s narrative compares the situation of two persons, which is in line with Nursi’s double-winged narration. Said Nursi emphasizes that the twig which the man holds is a “fig tree.” The Qur’an says, at the beginning of the Chapter of Tin (the Fig): “By the fig and the olive, And Mount Sinai, And this secure City” (28). Some prominent scholars of Tafsir, interpreting these verses, believe that “the fig” refers to Damascus, thus to the mission of Abraham (29); the olives refer to Jerusalem, thus to Jesus; Mount Sinai refers to Egypt, thus to Moses; and “this secure City” to Mecca, thus to Prophet Muhammad (blessings be upon them all) (30).

Notes

1. Şahiner, N. 2007. Cemil Meriç’le Nur Sohbetleri, Izmir: Isik Publications, p. 106 (in Turkish).
2. Ibid. pp. 93-95.
3. Jainism and Buddhism. Udana 68-69: Parable of the Blind Men and the Elephant.
4. Hughes, Marilynn. 2005. The Voice of Prophets, Volume 2, Morrisville, NC, pp. 590-91.
5. Al-Ghazzali. 1933. Ihya’ `Ulum ad-Din, Volume 4, Cairo, p. 6. (in Arabic).
6. Jalalu’ddin Rumi. 1930. The Mathnawi. Edited with critical notes, translation, and commentary by Reynold A. Nicholson, Volume 4, Book 3, London, vv. I259-68.
7. Suyuti. Durr al-Mansur, Volume 6, p. 341. Hakim. Mustadrak, Volume 2, p. 425. (in Arabic).
8. Bidpai. 1885. Kalilah and Dimnah, or, The Fables of Bidpai. Translated by I.G.N. Keith Falconer, Cambridge University Press.
9. Bidpai. 1819. Kalila and Dimna. Translated by Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull, London: Oxford Press, pp. 32-46.
10. Nursi, Said. 2005. The Words, 8th Word, NJ: The Light, Inc.
11. Nursi. 2005, 10th Word, Introduction, Second Sign, 19th Word, Third Droplet.
12. Nursi. 2006. The Letters, 19th Letter, First Addendum, NJ: The Light, Inc.
13. Tolstoy, Leo. 2010. A Confession and Other Religious Writings, Translated by N.H. Dole, L. Maude, Digireads.com Publishing, pp. 13-14.
14. Nursi. 2006. 1st Letter, Second Question.
15. Bidpai. 1819. p. 81.
16. Doni, Anton Francesco. 2003. The Moral Philosophy of Doni: Known as The Fables of Bidpai. Translated by Thomas North, edited by John Anthony Butler, Carmine Di Biase, Canada: Dovehouse Editions.
17. Stevenson, Jane. 2004. “The Moral Philosophy of Doni, popularly known as the Fables of Bidpai,” University of Toronto Quarterly, Volume 74, Number 1, Winter 2004/2005, pp. 404-405.
18. North, Thomas. 1568. The Morall Philosophie of Doni, London: Ballantyne Press, p. 63.
19. Aymaz, Abdullah. “Güneş doğana kadar yediyüz secde”, July, 18, 2005, Zaman Newspaper (in Turkish).
20. Nursi. 2005. Thirteenth Word, Second Station.
21. Nursi. 2005. Tenth Word, Fourth Truth.
22. Nursi. 2005. Thirty First Word, Addendum.
23. Nursi. 2005. Tenth Word.
24. Nursi, Fihrist Risalesi, Sekizinci Söz, İstanbul: Envar Publications (in Ottoman Turkish).
25. Qur’an, 87/18-19.
26. Qur’an, 87/10-11.
27. Qur’an, 87/13.
28. Qur’an, 95/1-3.
29. İslamoğlu, Mustafa. Tefsirul Kur’an Te’vil ul Furkan, Tîn Sûresi (in Turkish).
30. Imam Qurtubi, Tafsir Qurtubi, Chapter 95.

[i]. By his original name, Vishna Sarma is believed to have lived in the Kashmir area about 200 BC and compiled different fables and stories, some dating back to the 13^th century BC, into a single book under the name of “Pañchatantra (Five Principles).”

[ii]   Professor at Dongbang Buddhist University, Director of the Korean Buddhist Order Association

Many western readers are unfamiliar with Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, an Islamic scholar who wrote mostly in the first half of the twentieth century. Those few who are familiar with Nursi – who know that he was routinely persecuted by the nascent government of the Turkish republic or that he inspired hundreds of students – are likely unfamiliar with his writings and ideas. His Qur’anic commentary, the Risale-i Nur, is more than 6000 pages long, and his readers have generally been reserved to their own reading circles.

Thankfully, there is a (relatively) new collection of essays out. Titled God, Man, and Mortality: The Perspective of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, the book serves as a convenient jumping off point for Western readers who know little or nothing about Nursi’s ideas.

As is natural in a collection about a thinker as complex and voluminous as Nursi, the essays themselves vary in tone, style, approach, and – yes – quality. The first essay in the collection, by Bilal Kuşpınar, is not one of the most scholarly or incisive pieces, but it serves as a good introduction to Nursi’s ideas and the Risale. It summarizes Nursi’s views on human conscience, which is foundational knowledge for the rest of the essays in the collection: “Nursi believes that ‘the conscience is a kind of metaphysical entity or spiritual faculty inherent in every human being.’” Later, Kuşpınar writes, “Nursi intends to show that man, by virtue of his conscience, can establish communion with the world of the Unseen, provided that the conscience remains unadulterated and uninfluenced.”

Most of the essays in God, Man, and Mortality can be broken down into two broad categories: those that are more scholarly; and those that are more informal and concerned with the application of Nursi’s ideas in everyday life.

Of the former, the standout is “Man as Vicegerent of the Earth: How New Is Said Nursi’s Intepretation?” by Şükran Vahide. Vahide explores how Nursi viewed man’s role in the Universe, as outlined by the Qur’an:

Similarly to other beings, man is thus an official with duties; it is only by virtue of the wealth of his faculties and the comprehensiveness of his disposition that he has been made vicegerent of the earth, and the obligations and functions that it entails have been made incumbent on him.

Vahide does an impressive job of placing Nursi within the proper historical and intellectual context. She illuminates where Nursi’s thinking was drawn from historical sources and where it diverged. To wit:

As was noted above, the present author has not found to date any other commentator who links the teaching of the [divine] names and the vicegerency with the miracles of the Prophets and mankind’s civilizational progress. The whole ethos of this interpretation, based on such notions as civilization, science, and material progress, is clearly modernist and has its roots in nineteenth-century European thought.

Vahide examines Nursi’s place within classical and modernist Islamic thought, but perhaps most fascinating is her study of Nursi’s place within Sufi thought. The movement Nursi inspired has always been difficult to define, but many have thoughtlessly labeled him and his students Sufis. Nursi himself disagreed with this assessment: “Nursi was adamant that he was not involved in Sufism … indeed, he argued that Sufism was inappropriate for the modern age since it was ill-equipped to reply to the intellectual assaults of materialism.”

Among the other more “scholarly” essays Kerim Balcı’s piece, “Agents of Human Spirituality: Dominical Subtle Faculties of Man According to Said Nursi” is another deeply researched text that draws on classical Islamic thinkers to assess Nursi’s ideas. Balcı explores humanity’s Ten Subtle Faculties, as enumerated by Nursi in his Risale. Balcı digs into not just the Sufi roots of Nursi’s ideas, but also their roots in Greek and even Hindu sciences and philosophies. It’s the most complex essay in a collection of thoughtful, complicated pieces.

Zeki Sarıtoprak’s “Nursi on the Problem of Theodicy” is a fascinating examination of the question of evil. Can evil be reconciled with “the Most Just God”? Once again, the author studies Nursi’s ideas alongside those of his historical peers. It’s a fascinating essay about a question that has vexed philosophers and thinkers for millennia. As Sarıtoprak shows, the question is less troubling for Sunni Islamic thinkers than it has been for Westerners. Nursi himself said, “In everything, even in the things that appear as the ugliest, there is an aspect of real beauty.” Echoing this, Sarıtoprak writes, “There is an overwhelming concept of justice in this world, but in the Islamic understanding this world and the other world complement each other. So, if something is not finished in this world it does not mean that there is no justice.”

From among the second category of articles, two were most intriguing. Mahsheed Ansari writes about Millennials’ (or Generation Y’s) struggle with mortality and faith. In his estimation, Millennials (of which this reviewer is one), “are often characterized as being ‘demanding, impatient and bad at communicating’ – a generation of ‘individuals’ who are mostly self-driven.” As she later writes, they are defined by “‘individualism’ that pervades contemporary Western culture.”

Ansari’s essay is equal parts fascinating and infuriating. She’s not wrong that many Westerners live an “excessively material lifestyle” or that traditional religious faith is on the decline. She makes the valid point that materialist philosophy has left many people feeling adrift and without meaning. This sense of meaninglessness has also resulted in higher incidences of self-harm, suicide, and drug abuse.

What one may call a broad generalization in Ansari’s essay is that for her many Westerners “now deal more with machinery and technology than with humans,” which is true. But it’s also true that there are humans behind every piece of machinery and technology we use. More often than not, people are using their cell phones or computers to connect with other people. They may be an imperfect medium, but the communities and bonds they build are real.

Another generalization in this essay is about Millennials. When looking at consumption and voting habits, it is baby boomers, not Millennials, who are excessively individualistic and materialistic. Part of Millennials sense of despair is at having to live in a world that has been desiccated by Boomers’ selfish rates of consumption.

Ansari obviously has a dog in this fight, though: she believes people are afraid of dying and, without faith in God, will never find meaning. As she writes, a person “wants, seeks, and yearns

for eternity, but the reality of his mortality and the inevitability of death bring pain and no fulfillment to his essence and core.” The answer, Ansari posits, drawing on Nursi, “is a firm belief in the ‘Eternal Existent Being.’” Augmenting this argument with statistics – say, lower rates of suicide and substance abuse in religious communities – could have been very useful. But it’s an argument delivered in good faith, and it’s certainly true that many Millennials are searching for the greater sense of community and selflessness that faith and religious communities provide.

In “Sincerity and Wisdom in the Fully Human Person: Ikhlas in the Risale-i Nur,” Father Thomas Michel outlines Nursi’s Nine Rules for Conduct among believers in the same community. These rules were intended to eliminate rivalry and jealousy, which Nursi had observed in his own students. As Michel writes, “Nursi’s point is that differing points of view need not cause division, factions, and enmity within the community.”

Michel writes in an engaging, personal tone. He extends Nursi’s rules to the Christian community and also to dialogue between Christians and Muslims. Knowing Michel to be an all-embracing person of peace, it’s only logical to extend these rules of conduct to people of other faith traditions, too. In such troubled times, one would hope that people of faith understand the need for unity with all people of good conscience, assuming their decency is genuinely held. A person need not believe in Christ or follow Muhammad’s example to live by Prophetic values. Conversely, there is plenty of evidence in today’s world of people who claim faith in God – faith that is, in many cases, sincerely held – who disgrace the good name of Christians and Muslims the world over.

Michel ends by quoting James: “But the wisdom from above is first of all pure, then peaceable, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” The challenge for believers – and non-believers – in today’s world is to go beyond identities and instead form bonds based on shared goals and sincerity. Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, and Atheists alike are concerned about the environment, about justice, and about violence. They should be able to work with each other to solve these problems. In fact, they must.

God, Man, and Mortality is the kind of essay collection that poses intractable questions. In the writings of Said Nursi, the book’s authors seek to answer some of the most vexing problems facing the contemporary world. And though they do not always find the answers, in Nursi’s timeless wisdom, they often finds the beginnings of the answers – the roots from which a healthy tree might someday grow. They’ve done a great service by introducing Western audiences to Nursi’s ideas in an accessible, well-researched collection.

Buy This Book

God, Man, and Mortality: The Perspective of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi
Edited by Hasan Horkuc
9781597843294
pp. 208
Tughra Books

Many atheists suggest that if God exists, there should not be evil, since God, by definition, is omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent. Therefore, atheists conclude that the existence of evil actually refutes the theists’ argument for the existence of a benevolent God.

But is it a legitimate point to make?

Albert Camus and Bediuzzaman Said Nursi are two thinkers of the same era, one representing the Western atheist viewpoint and one representing the Eastern Islamic viewpoint. They present two very different versions of how humankind should understand the problem of evil and suffering.

Albert Camus and The Plague

Camus chose to express some of his philosophical views in his novels. His 1947 novel La Peste, translated into English as The Plague, is where he exercises his position on the problem of evil. The Plague depicts the emergence of a natural evil, i.e. the bubonic plague brought by rats, in a French-Algerian town of Oran (Wahran in today’s Algeria). Camus might have been inspired either by the 1849 Algerian cholera epidemic, a natural evil that claimed many lives, or by the moral evil of the Nazi invasion of France, which inflicted millions of deaths and immeasurable suffering.[1]

Among many characters in The Plague, two became most prominent in terms of expressing Camus’ philosophical position. Like David Hume’s characterizations of Philo, Demea, and Cleanthes who represent different philosophical points of view, Camus exercises atheistic and theistic arguments through the mouths of a 35-year-old Dr. Bernard Rieux and of the relatively older Father Paneloux. The narrator of the story, an atheist moralist, who, as the reader discovers only at the end of the book, is Dr. Rieux, represents Camus’ own point of view. Father Paneloux, a Jesuit priest, expresses the theist viewpoints of a Christian through his sermons and his conversations with Dr. Rieux.

Camus tells a two-front war against the plague epidemic in Oran. The rational front, in the light of research, science, and technology, is led by Dr. Rieux, who struggles to stop the spread of the disease by means of testing new vaccines. At the same time, the ecclesiastical authorities of the town take the metaphysical approach of urging citizens to common prayer. In the first month of the plague, Father Paneloux is invited to give a speech in the town cathedral. He opens his speech with an accusation. He says, “My brethren, a calamity has befallen you; my brethren, you have deserved it!”[2] and he continues with a passage from Exodus. He says, “The first time that this tribulation appeared in history, it was to strike down the enemies of God. Pharaoh opposed the designs of the Eternal and the plague brought him to his knees. Since the beginning of history, the scourge of God has brought down the proud and the blind beneath His feet. Think on this and fall to your knees.”[3]

To Father Paneloux, the plague, or any evil for that matter, was sent upon people who deviated from the path of God in order to alert or punish them. He insists that the people of Oran deserve this heavenly punishment, as did the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the Pharaoh. The plague, to Paneloux, was God’s flail with which He beats the people of Oran in order to scatter the blood and human misery “in a sowing that would make way for a harvest of truth.”[4]

Paneloux, in conclusion, suggests to the citizens of Oran that they should offer the heavens the only word that a Christian should offer, which is the word of love. Then, he believes, God would do the rest.[5]

After Father Paneloux’s sermon Monsieur Othon, the town’s magistrate, tells Dr. Rieux that the father’s analysis was “absolutely irrefutable.” However, Camus exposes his existentialist position in the later pages where Dr. Rieux and Jean Tarrou have a conversation in Rieux’s home where he stays with his mother, Mme Rieux, who came to stay with him after his wife was taken away to a sanatorium.

As the novel progresses, Camus brings up the sufferings of innocent children due to the plague. Jacques Othon, the son of Monsieur Othon, contracts the disease. Despite Dr. Castel’s attempts to save his life with the new anti-plague serum, Jacques dies after a lengthy, painful suffering.

Dr. Rieux and Father Paneloux meet again outside the hospital where the young Jacques has just died. Paneloux suggests that although the suffering and the death of an innocent child is outrageous and beyond the understanding of humankind, one should love what one does not understand. To which Dr. Rieux replies, “No, Father. I have a different notion of love; and to the day I die I shall refuse to love this creation in which children are tortured.”

Father Paneloux stays with young Jacques during his last hour and says prayers to God to spare him. Despite all the efforts of Dr. Rieux, Dr. Castel, and the medical staff, as well as Father Paneloux’s prayers, the boy dies. This, Father Paneloux finds, is completely unjustifiable, yet has to be accepted since God willed so.

From this point onward, Camus portrays Paneloux as a priest who starts having doubts since the suffering of innocent children could not be explained by any religious arguments.

In Father Paneloux’s second sermon, there is a calmer priest as opposed to a stern one. He uses the pronoun “we” as opposed to “you.” Deeply affected by the suffering and the consequent death of a child, Father Paneloux speaks to the less crowded church with a less enthusiastic audience. He says:

My brethren, the love of God is a difficult one. It assumes a total abandonment of oneself and contempt for one’s person. But it alone can wipe away the suffering and death of children, it alone makes them necessary because it is impossible to understand such things, so we have no alternative except to desire them. This is the hard lesson that I wanted to share with you. This is the faith — cruel in the eyes of man, decisive in the eyes of God — which we must try to reach. We must try to make ourselves equal to this awful image. On this peak, everything will be confounded and made equal, and the truth will break forth from apparent injustice. This is why, in many churches in the South of France, plague victims have slept for centuries beneath the stones in the choir and priests speak above their tombs; the spirit that they proclaim rises out of these heaps of ashes even though children are among those who go to make them.[6]

Towards the end of The Plague, Camus depicts the contractions of the disease by Father Paneloux and Jean Tarrou. Paneloux accepts the will of God and refuses to fight the disease and dies whilst holding on to the remnants of his faith. Dr. Rieux records Paneloux’s case as a “doubtful case” since it did not clearly resemble that of the plague. Meanwhile Tarrou puts up a great heroic fight against the plague only to fail.

Said Nursi and the Risale-i Nur (Epistles of Light)

In the Risale-i Nur,[7] the collection of Nursi’s writings, Nursi builds his philosophy on the basis of the existence of God as creator and sustainer of life and the universe. The clear distinction between the theists’ concept of God and Nursi’s is that Nursi believes in a God who is not only omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent but also The Just (al-‘Adil), The Punisher (al-Qahhar), All-Wise (al-Hakim), and The Forceful (al-Jabbar). Therefore, Nursi argues that any apparent evil or suffering do not necessarily contradict the existence of a benevolent God. A situation in which evil and suffering exist might actually show the need of God’s qualities as The Just (al-‘Adil), The Punisher (al-Qahhar), and All-Wise (al-Hakim) for the situation to be eventually resolved.

Although Nursi’s position on evil and suffering initially resembles the one presented by Father Paneloux, one can observe substantial differences. It is true that Nursi considers evil and suffering as part of a Divine warning to wrong-doing people and advises people to take refuge in supplication,[8] but he also elaborates on why the existence of evil and suffering is not necessarily a proof of the non-existence of God.

According to Nursi, man has no right to complain either about the natural evils or about the moral evils which might inflict sufferings upon him. Nursi explains his position with a three-point argument.

The first point Nursi makes is that man is the artistic creation of God, hence God retains all rights to act freely upon his creation. In an analogy, Nursi likens man to a model upon whom an artistic tailor practices his art of making garments. Nursi explains that the artist who pays the model has a natural right to ask him to sit down, stand up, turn around, and so on and so forth. The model has no right to complain to his employer about his or her discomfort. In The Flashes, Nursi writes:

… Just as the name of Healer makes it necessary that illness should exist, so too the name of Provider requires that hunger should exist. And so on. The Lord of All Dominion has disposal over His dominion as He wishes.[9]

Therefore, to Nursi, the body and life are the property of the Creator temporarily lent to man. Man ought to be grateful for being given this gift, rather than complain about the aspects of it.

Nursi also implies that certain attributes of God require the existence of negative conditions to reveal His positive attributes. For instance, the name of God the Healer requires illness, and the name God the Sustainer requires hunger, and so on.[10]

The second point that Nursi highlights is the argument that evil and suffering are intended to purify and improve life. Nursi claims that the lack of ills and evils is actually more negative for life than their presence. For instance, if there were no diseases, which is what Camus implies an ideal life should be, there would have been no betterment of life in general. In other words, mankind has been working for disease prevention for centuries, and in return, hygiene, sanitation, and living conditions have been improved significantly. If open, rank sewers had not caused diseases, man would not have had to use his ingenuity and exert himself to build the modern sewage systems we all enjoy today; instead, we would still be living in extreme filth, unworthy of the human condition. Nursi remarks:

It is by means of disasters and sicknesses that life is refined, perfected, strengthened and advanced; that it yields results, attains perfection and fulfills its own purpose. Life led monotonously on the couch of ease and comfort resembles not so much the pure good that is being, as the pure evil that is non-being; it tends in fact in that direction.[11]

The third point Nursi makes is the argument that the brief life in this world is but a preparation for an infinite life in the hereafter. Therefore, it involves ills, evils, sufferings, and tribulations in order to test man to see how he reacts to them. His reactions will earn him an eternal reward or punishment. For this reason, man is meant to show strength and patience to endure the calamities thrown at him. Nursi writes:

This worldly realm is the field of testing, the abode of service. It is not the place of pleasure, reward, and requital. Considering, then, that it is the abode of service and place of worship, sicknesses and misfortunes – as long as they do not affect belief and are patiently endured – conform fully to service and worship, and even strengthen it. Since they make each hour’s worship equivalent to that of a day, one should offer thanks instead of complaining.[12]

Expounding around the thesis that not every apparent evil is necessarily evil in itself, Nursi further explains that evil is needed to appreciate pleasure. He explains that the cessation of pleasure is a pain in itself and reciprocally the cessation of pain is a great pleasure.[13]

In conclusion, Nursi contends that there is no contradiction between the existence of God and the existence of evil. Nursi argues that God is not only all-loving, all-caring, and all-compassionate, as the classical Christian perception would have it, but possesses many more attributes than these. Nursi asserts that evil is needed to reveal God’s other attributes such as The Sustainer (al-Razzaq), The Giver of Health (al-Shafi), etc.

Unlike Camus, who tries to resolve the problem of evil only within the framework of our brief earthly life, Nursi seeks solutions from beyond death. To Nursi, the physical life of man ends with his death, but the life of his spirit continues after death. Therefore, no suffering in this life will go unaccounted for. The sufferings are either counted as a punishment to clear an individual from his sins or the token given to him to earn a higher reward in the hereafter.

Furthermore, Nursi contends that, if diseases were only to strike bad people to punish them, everyone would believe in the existence of God, which would defy the purpose of the life completely.

In short, Camus and Nursi differ dramatically on their perception of evil. The former seeks to justify the compatibility of evil with God only within the boundaries of the visible universe and concludes that real evil exists, so God does not. The latter, however, attempts to justify the existence of evil and God in a much larger context, i.e. the earthly life and life after death, and concludes that there is no contradiction between the existence of God and the existence of evil, and that, on the contrary, they require and complete each other.

[1] In “Layers of meanings in La Peste,” Margaret E Gray writes that The Plague is an allegory to Nazi invasion of France. See Edward J. Hughes, The Cambridge Companion to Camus, NY, Cambridge University Press, 2007, pp. 165-77.

[2] Camus, Albert, Robin Buss (translator), and Tony Judt (editor). 2001. The Plague, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, p. 73.

[3] Ibid. 74.

[4] Ibid. 75.

[5] Ibid. 75.

[6] Ibid. 176.

[7] The Risale-i Nur (The Epistles of Light) is the name Said Nursi gave to the collection of his writings. It consists of around twenty pieces of books and is about 6000 pages. The main four books are The Words (Sözler), The Letters (Mektubat), The Flashes (Lem’alar), and The Rays (Șualar).

[8] In The Flashes, Nursi writes: “Drawing on the verse (Qur’an, 21:83), we should say in our supplication, ‘O my Lord and Sustainer! Indeed, harm has afflicted me, and You are the Most Merciful of the Merciful.’” See, Nursi, Kaynaklı, İndeksli Risale-I Nur Külliyatı 1, Sözler, Mektubat, Lem’alar, Şualar, p. 580.

[9] Ibid. p. 581.

[10] Nursi defends his theism based on the Divine Names of God which require certain conditions to manifest.  

[11] Nursi, Kaynaklı, İndeksli Risale-I Nur Külliyatı 1, Sözler, Mektubat, Lem’alar, Şualar, p. 581.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid. p. 583.

Muslim theologians who have been compelled to respond to such claims have also offered a number of philosophical and rational arguments to prove the existence of God. This paper aims to explore the arguments for the existence of God put forward by some of these Muslim theologians. Islamic Scholars such as Nursi (d. 1960), Al-Kindi (d. 870), Gulen (2000), and others have provided sound arguments based on theological, philosophical, and scientific reasoning that consists of comprehensive and valid premises, which taken together make a strong case for the existence of God.

The cosmological argument is one of the primary arguments of the kalam theology, which states that the initial point is existence, and thus the universe must have an origin. One of the original developments of the cosmological argument in Islamic tradition was formed by Al-Kindi (d. 870), who was one of the earliest Islamic philosophers to initiate an argument for the existence of God based upon purely empirical grounds (Nasr 1964). His main contribution is the cosmological argument (dalil al-huduth) for the existence of God, in his “On First Philosophy” (Nasr 1964). He provided four different variations of this theory, all of which state that a cause must be required.

Al-Kindi contends that the creation had a beginning in time and that the universe cannot bring itself into existence; thus, diversity in the universe must be caused by an external agent and the origin of variety within the universe indicates a creator. Ultimately, this creator is God (Ozalp, 2014, Slide 29). The cosmological argument had been rejected by some philosophers, because the notion of causality upon which it rests its foundations has been open to doubt since the commencement of Kalam (Fakhry, 1957). Al-Ghazali (d. 1111) however, rejected these doubts, on the basis that the requirement of this foundation is only a perception (Ghazali, 1997).

Taking this viewpoint into consideration, it is necessary to note that others still regard the cosmological argument highly, and it is still used by Muslim and western theologians today. In response to the claims about the universe being infinite in time, modern scholars use the following argument: if the universe was infinite in the past, there would be no such thing as the present. In other words, if there was no beginning in time, we would have never arrived at the present. This means that both time and space had a beginning and therefore need a (creative) cause. According to the cosmological argument, this cause is none other than God.

The default argument is another important argument for the existence of God, and it was first advanced by Nursi. He offered four possibilities for existence to come into being. He then claimed that if the first three are proven to be false and refuted through valid arguments, God’s existence will be proven by default. He argued that since creation exists; that every single being comes into existence in a necessary and great manner; and that all beings are finite and not eternal, they were either:

• Created by ordinary causes or formed through causes;
• Formed of their own power;
• Created by nature;
• Created by God.

According to Nursi (1995), human justification cannot find any other explanation apart from these four possibilities. Nursi then refuted the first three claims by using logical arguments.

In regards to the first three possibilities, Nursi’s refutations are based on the argument that causes do not possess intelligence. For example: the availability of ingredients are not enough to make a cake, hence a chef is required. If the universe was to occur by itself, then atoms and particles (which are the ingredients of the universe) require infinite knowledge to create something by themselves.

The following analogy may also shed some light onto the argument: If an architect is not accepted as the designer of a building, then each brick must possess complete knowledge of architecture. Furthermore, nature cannot cause the universe to come into being because nature, itself is a work of art; therefore, nature itself cannot be the artist. Nature is a set of laws, therefore it cannot be the lawgiver. Since the initial three theories are impossible, by default, God’s existence is proven. (Ozalp 2014, slide 20).

Nursi also provided another analogy in regards to the existence of God: a commander of an army can achieve many accomplishments by commanding a large quantity of soldiers. However, if the soldiers were required to perform these duties themselves, without guidance, it would result in disarray and have chaotic consequences. Similarly, assigning all astronomical occurrences to God develops a simple methodology to comprehend that God, Who through controlling astronomical circulations and orbits, and displaying art in the course of certain phases, proves there is Divine wisdom displayed in the universe. There is one Commander of the universe, and undoubtedly, that is God Almighty (Nursi 2001).

Nursi also explained the fact that God is the eternal one, without beginning or end. Non-existence is insubstantial to Him, for He does not require anything to exist, owing to the fact that life begins in His Essence. Without a creator, it is impossible for life to originate by itself, hence the only plausible and logical reasoning would be to accept a creator that has power over all things (Nursi 1993).

As we shift to a contemporary Muslim theologian, we first look at the idea of “Occam’s Razor,” a popular philosophical idea, which states that, “The simplest answer is usually right” (Clark, 2007). Supported by Occam’s Razor, Gulen appears to have a straightforward approach in regards to the existence of God. He argues that the existence of God is too obvious to require any arguments (Gulen 2000).

Gulen (2000) contends that it is impossible to prove the non-existence of God. In relation to creation, Gulen (2000) argues that anything can exist, at any time or at any place, and in any form. Therefore, everything is contingent, meaning it is possible that things can exist or not exist. As Gulen (2000) contends, things that are isolated are able to receive different qualities. The reality is that living and non-living things are provided with particular chosen forms; therefore, these chosen forms that exist require one who determined them to exist. Nothing can dictate how something will come into existence, except an infinite power behind all things, and possessing infinite will and knowledge over all things – and that power is God. Furthermore, Gulen argues that everything changes and thus everything has a beginning and an end. Therefore, whatever had a beginning requires something that has no beginning. Moreover, since physical agents cannot originate themselves, and since infinite regression is not possible, reason states that a creator is necessary, and this necessary creator is God Almighty.

Gulen (2001) also responds to the question of “Who created God?”, put forward by those who make a counter-argument to the causation argument for God. He (2001) states that the causation argument is not valid for God because if this criteria is applied to God, there will then be a never ending chain of creators. This is also elaborated on by Ergi (2013), who offers an analogy of a train and its carriages, and asks: what pulls the last carriage? The answer is the one in front, and then the one in front again; however, when arriving at the locomotive, it is utterly nonsensical to repeat the same question again, since the locomotive is self-powered and does not require an external power. Thus, the same question cannot be asked when reaching God in the chain of creation of matter. Taking this into consideration, this argument unequivocally proves the existence of God, since it would be logical to accept one creator who has no beginning than to enter into the impossible argument of infinite regress.

Can the life be self-originated? Is life a process that uncoiled corresponding with laws that could be comprehended by mankind? Natural laws do not have a real existence. Natural laws and causes draw the inference from the connections of events seen in the universe. This being the case, as they are dependent upon exterior components, they are not self-existent. Furthermore the universe is contingent.

As Gulen (2000) argues, two types of existence are reality: there are those things that exist necessarily and those existing on a conditional level. Those that exist incontrovertibly, exist only by a perquisite of their individual characteristics and attributes. Thus, nothing in it must exist, since it is not necessary for it to exist. Anything whose existence is conditional and contingent is not infinite. For that reason, life cannot be self-originated, because someone has to have preference over its non-existence or its possible existence. Anything that begins, will definitely end, so the idea of eternal creation is deemed to be false. Everything is dependent on something, so when tracing this chain as far back as possible, it is beyond reasonable to accept the fact that it is God who has no beginning and is the creator of all things. Taking these irrefutable arguments into deep contemplation and examination, it is logical and plausible to accept the fact that God is the only reasonable explanation for the origin of the universe and all of existence.

Through the thoughts and explanations of rational arguments regarding the proofs of God’s existence, it is evident that Muslim theologians have aspired to provide a sturdy and forceful structure to Islamic theology. After deep reflection, thought, and consideration surrounding the arguments that were provided by Muslim theologians, in this respect, it is clear that the evidence put forth unambiguously demonstrates that God exists and is the creator of all things. It is useful to ponder over analogies and to exercise scientific and rational reasoning as these scholars have put forward, so that we can have a better understanding of our existence.

Before the emergence of theories proposed by disbelievers, it was unnecessary to even engage in proving God’s existence. Obstacles like these theories are still being debated over, but via irrefutable analogies, scientific and rational reasoning, the existence of God is evident.

REFERENCES

• Clark, J. (2004). How Occam’s Razor Works. Retrieved from: http://science.howstuffworks.com/innovation/scientific-experiments/occams-razor.htm
• Ergi, O. 2013. Can a bridge build itself: essays on belief and moral values. [S.l.]: Ipg-Academic.
• Fakhry, M. (1957). The Classical Islamic Arguments for the Existence of God. The Muslim World, 47, 2.
• Ghazzālī, ., & Marmura, M. E. (1997). The incoherence of the philosophers =: Tahāfut al-falāsifah: a parallel English-Arabic text. Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press.
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With this realization, skepticism has the potential to become an inconvenience and, at its most extreme, a debilitating disorder of mammoth proportions. An example of the inconvenience of skepticism might look like this: Imagine you are looking to buy a new car from a car dealer you are unfamiliar with. The cars he sells all look to be in great condition, and the man himself seems honest enough. However, because of your skeptical nature you are not entirely sure about the quality of these cars and you ultimately decide not to buy one. Because of this, you end up missing an opportunity to own a great new car at an affordable price due to unwarranted suspicion, stemming from an overly skeptical worldview.

What does it mean to be “overly” skeptical? There are times when skepticism is warranted and even necessary. If you were to notice some odd or shifty behavior from the car salesman, for example, you would be prudent and wise to take a second to doubt the quality of the vehicles he is selling. However, problems arise when you are skeptical in the absence of any evidence to suggest that what you perceive is not in reality what one thinks it is. Is there a remedy for the soul who is afflicted with constant doubt about the world and the intentions of those in it? Is there a cure for the mind that is never satisfied with its ignorance, and wishes to know the truth and reality behind all events in the universe?

Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, a twentieth-century Islamic scholar, answers in the Risale-i Nur with an affirmative “yes,” and says that having an idea of God in one’s life is sufficient to address the concerns of skepticism.

Born in 1877, in an Anatolian village in the city of Bitlis, Bediuzzaman Said Nursi lived through one of the most tumultuous periods in Turkish history, witnessing the end of the Ottoman Empire and the birth of the secular Turkish republic under Mustafa Kemal Ataturk.

Nursi’s own life was equally tumultuous. Under the young republic’s Kemalist ideology, Nursi was routinely held by police, unjustly tried in court, and forced to live in states of exile. Despite these hardships, Nursi never deviated from his message of faith and peace, and managed to compile his incredibly influential Risale-i Nur collection.

What does Bediuzzaman Said Nursi have to say about skepticism? We should first look at Nursi’s attitude towards modern science. Said Nursi emphasized contemporary scientific achievements, and used religious and scientific terminologies together. This indicates that he supported and accepted the positive and metaphysical sciences. One of his fundamental ideas was how religious and modern scientific knowledge should complement and support each other, rather than come into conflict. In the following quote, we’ll see the importance he places on both sciences, and how skepticism is a result of a lack of the religious sciences:

“The light of the conscience is the religious sciences (ulum-u diniye). The light of the mind is the modern sciences (funun-u medeniye). Combining both manifests the truth. The student’s skills develop further with these two (sciences). When they are separated, the former breeds superstition and the latter breeds corruption and skepticism” (from Munazarat, in ibid., 2:1956).

To further the study, we will examine what Said Nursi says about the relationship between man and God. Nursi writes that belief, knowledge, and worship of God are the ultimate purpose of existence, and that these are our innate and original duties. Therefore, belief in God is the highest aim of creation. According to Nursi, because of these facts, which complement each other, human beings can only find true happiness and serenity through belief. This idea of finding inner peace through belief in God is a very important component of the Risale, and although Said Nursi does not speak to skepticism directly, this idea can address skeptical concerns about knowledge and the world. More specifically, it is when a person puts their full trust in God that he or she can stop worrying about their burdens in this world.

Said Nursi writes about putting one’s trust in God in the part of the Risale-i Nur known as The Words. He explains this concept in the Twenty-third Word, in the Third Point. Nursi writes that belief in God is both light and power, in that those who have true belief can be relieved from the pressure of events. Since they entrust their burdens to God’s Absolute Power, they travel through the world without fear and misery. Nursi writes that belief consists of affirming Divine Unity, which requires submitting to God. Submitting fully to God requires relying on Him, which will yield happiness in this world.

Nursi cautions that relying on God in this manner does not mean that one should ignore the relationship between cause and effect, but rather one should view cause and effect as veils covering Divine Power’s hand. For example, in order to earn a high score on a final exam for school, we shouldn’t only sit back and pray to God, but we should also study for the exam. He writes that observing the laws of cause and effect is actually a type of worship through seeking to comply with Divine Will. However, this kind of desire and seeking of results is not enough for us to get what we want. According to Nursi, we should understand that, with the right belief, the result we want can only be expected from God, because He is the sole producer of effects.

Said Nursi further explains this concept by use of an allegorical argument. The parable goes as follows: once, two people boarded a ship, each carrying heavy loads on their backs. One man immediately put his burden on the deck of the ship after boarding and sat on it to keep it safe. The other man refused to lay down his cargo, even after being told to do so. He feared that it might get lost, and felt that he was strong enough to carry it himself. His friend told him that the ship was stronger and could hold it better, and also that by holding onto his burden, his strength would eventually fail him. Additionally, if the captain of the ship would see him, he might think he was ungrateful or insane to be carrying that burden by himself. And so he was convinced to lay down his burden and he found relief at last. Said Nursi writes that putting trust in God delivers one from being fearful of things in life, similar to how the men in the boat put down their burdens and stopped worrying about them.

What does any of this have to do with skepticism? Let us recall the problems associated with living a life of skepticism. When a person has an unhealthy amount of skepticism, he or she can no longer be sure about things that should otherwise not concern them. This type of skepticism is like a kind of paranoia, a type of phobia. We saw earlier that Said Nursi views this sort of skepticism as a result of a lack of the religious sciences. By extension, this means that a lack of trust in a Benevolent and Wise God can be responsible for this skepticism. Completely trusting in God first requires one to believe that God has Absolute Power over cause and effect. If one believes that God controls cause and effect completely, and if one believes that everything God wills is for the best purpose and wisest reason, then one has no reason to worry about the things one cannot know for certain, because those matters are entrusted to God’s control.

Said Nursi also writes in the Twenty-Fifth Word, Second Station, about evil thoughts and involuntary suggestions that may come to people. He first quotes a verse from the Qur’an:

“O Lord, I take refuge in You from the evil suggestions of the satans, and I take refuge in You, O my Lord, lest they attend me” (23:97-98).

Nursi has this to say about involuntary evil thoughts: the person who is afflicted with these thoughts and fancies is in an unfortunate state. The more one thinks about them, the more they grow. If one ignores them, they will shrink away; but if one exaggerates them, they will loom large in one’s life. If one fears them, they will make one sick; but if one does not fear them, they will become hidden.

This approach is relevant with regards to skeptical worries. One can observe that the only people who tend to worry about whether we can ever have knowledge with 100 certainty are philosophers. Most people are free of this type of worry. Most people, for example, wouldn’t think to question whether they are awake or asleep at this moment in time. If we see a tomato, we shouldn’t worry about the fact that we cannot see every aspect of the tomato at once; this shouldn’t lead us to question whether what we see is in fact a tomato. Nursi’s advice to philosophers is that we should stop worrying about the 0.01 of knowledge we can never obtain, and instead put our full trust in God, Who has Absolute Knowledge, Wisdom, and control over the world. If God wills it, the tomato will turn out to be a tomato, and if not, it is not the end of the world. Nursi would probably also say not to worry about whether the car salesman is trying to rip you off. If it so happens that you bought a lemon, you should remember that God willed it to happen for a reason you may not yet understand.

On a final note, I can share a related story. About a year ago, I was playing paintball with some friends. We were at a park in the woods. The field was very large, and I went into a thick patch of brush and was quickly lost. After stumbling around for a bit, I emerged in a wide open area, and right in front of me I saw a strange sight: I had somehow ended up behind what I thought was the enemy team. I slowly crept forward, waiting until I was in a prime position to attack. I finally stopped, but I hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation I heard the whistle blow to end the match. I was dismayed at such a wasted opportunity. However, as I sulked back to my team, I soon realized that I had come perilously close to making a massive fool of myself. It turns out that I had bumbled onto an entirely different match with different teams. How differently I viewed the situation after just a few moments! In place of despair, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me.

While it’s true that if I had taken the time to question my surroundings I might not have almost made myself look silly, in this case I would say there was a good reason for skepticism, which was the fact that I had gotten lost. If we have no reason to be skeptical about something we shouldn’t try to create reasons to be skeptical. This was the moment in my life where I clearly saw with my own eyes that sometimes things can happen that we may be upset about and appear to be bad for us, but in the long run they may actually turn out to be good. Because of this we should not worry too much about the outcomes of things out of our control, because they are all ultimately in God’s control.

The question of the possibility of absolute justice is vast and needs to be explored from various angles. However, space constraints dictate that we subject this topic to no more than a general overview. Focusing on the absolute nature of justice in Nursian thought may help to sharpen our understanding of existing theories of justice at the very least; it may even force us to rethink our prejudices and give us greater understanding of the concept of justice itself.

Given the limitations of space, I aim to focus on the question of injustice in the creation of different environments for the testing of different people. In other words, is God just when he creates Leo Nikolayevich in Siberia and Rashid in Mecca, Saudi Arabia, in the same age at the same time, and holds them responsible for their actions? Say if one is born from Muslim father and mother into the Islamic environment whereas the other might have never heard of Islam and been in touch with the aforementioned environment? We can do vice-versa and apply the same theory for Christianity and other religions. Can such a God be just in any sense of justice? To this end, I will deal chiefly with the issue of absolute justice as it pertains to the issue of free will. I believe the theories that I put forward could be applicable irrespective of faith and religious differences. Of course, the issue of salvation is an even bigger issue and it is out of the subject at hand here.

Before we continue, I would like to emphasize that our focus is neither meta-ethical, nor epistemic. I am not concerned here with the question of the ontological basis of justice, nor with how we can know what is just.

Justice functions in different spheres. While seemingly obvious, this is an important point because how the absolute nature of justice is perceived may differ according to the particular sphere in which justice functions. This perception differs in accordance with whether we are talking about God’s absolute justice towards His creatures, the absolute justice reflected in human beings, or about the relative justice of man towards his fellow beings and other creatures that he shares the universe with. As Nursi states, the purpose of human existence is to manifest God’s Names and exhibit their marvels before the eyes of creatures. In this paper, we take justice as the reflection of the Divine name of Just (al-Adl) as it appears to us in free-will-related justice and we will try to understand how this is reflected in Nursi’s writings.

It is important to take into account Nursi’s terminology, in particular his categorization of the Divine names and attributes into the Glorious (Jalali), the Amiable (Jamali), and the Absolute (Kamali). Under the umbrella of the first, there is the name Compassionate (Rahman), which Nursi connects particularly to this world, where it manifests itself in its most perfect form as distributive justice; under the umbrella of the latter, there is the name Merciful (Rahim), which Nursi connects primarily to the hereafter, where it manifests itself in its most perfect form as retributive justice. Under the umbrella of the third category, there is the name Just (Adl), which Nursi connects to both worlds, where it manifests itself in its most perfect form as absolute justice.

First, I shall present an outline of my conclusions regarding free-will-related justice; we shall then see what these conclusions teach us about the unjust appearance of different environments designed for competition (imtihan). Justice is one of the key concepts in Nursi’s discourse. He states that the fundamental aims of the Quran are fourfold: divine unity (tawhid), prophethood (nubuwwa), the resurrection of the dead (hashr), and justice (adala).

Before I go any further, I would once again like to express my gratitude to the Smilansky’s article on which most of the following of this article is based. It has given me great inspiration and ideas. I have simply adapted some of his examples and arguments and applied my arguments and conclusions of the Nursian approach to them.

Mimar Sinan example

Let’s look at an example given by Similansky and adapt it here. Imagine two men who wish to be a great architect like Mimar Sinan (d. 1588), the famous chief architect of the Ottomans. One of them is from a small provincial town While he has had both the time and training to develop his architectural talents, they have never been more than mediocre. The other man is from a well-known rich family. He has, on the other hand, acquired all the great skills and qualities to turn out to be a great architect. In fact with a rich family and great chain of ancestry, he seems to have all the qualities to become famous, if not more.

These men go to Istanbul and are confronted with the wonderful arts of Mimar Sinan and are overcome with envy and a sense of injustice. The classical argument might be that there is a sense in which the differences between these men and Sinan seem unfair and unjust. Neither men are responsible for this difference, nor have they consented to it: it is an arbitrary, brute fact, not following from any ethical decision-making process. Our men feel unfortunate and the state they are in is hardly their fault, so how can we say that it is not unfair and unjust? They have not created beautiful buildings and monuments like Sinan and thus do not deserve the latter’s acclaim; therefore, may one not argue that our man does deserve to be as famous as Sinan?

There seem to be a number of options open to us in our evaluation of this issue in the classical philosophical approaches to justice. Firstly, we can discount the whole matter as not one of justice, since no human agency is responsible for the man’s comparative lack of talent or fame. According to this option, injustice occurs only when one agent has wronged another and – the issue of Divine decree apart – no one has wronged our men. So, this position blames the Divine for this seemingly unjust situation.

Another way of understanding this would be to say that the situation is neither just, nor unjust. It is not just that our men lack the fame of Sinan (they do not deserve not to; it is sheer luck, after all), but neither is it an injustice. There is simply a “limbo.”

Similarly much can happen to people that is not a result of their free choice and, hence, is not within their control and cannot be just in terms of the core conception. People who become severely ill through no fault of their own, are laid off after years of work in a massive company work-force reductions, or lose close relatives in car accidents are only a few among many possible examples.

Bediuzzaman’s cup example

Nursi offers a different solution here: God has designed life and anything related to it with a precise and just measure. As an analogy, let’s think that every individual is given a special cup, and he/she is asked to fill it. That everyone’s cups come in different sizes signifies that everyone’s test is different. It’s possible one has a small Turkish tea cup and the other has a British coffee cup and the other has an American extra large size coke cup. The test is designed with varying components, like coming from different families, in different countries, with different backgrounds and means. However, all these do not make the test or competition for salvation unjust. Since, the sizes of cups are specially designed for every individual, so that one’s effort to fill his cup would not differ from another’s effort to fill his/her different sized cup.

From the point of view of absolute justice, everyone will be tested according to their particularly designed circumstance, with some fundamental choices being same – like that of submission. Nobody, one way or another, chooses to be born either in an Islamic environment or, say, in an Inuit environment. Therefore, there is no inequality and injustice. When Nursi uses Sadi Taftazani’s definition of “iman” – or belief – he quotes, “belief is a light revealed into someone’s heart after that person’s – be it he or she – use of free will.” Wherever or whatever one was born into, depending on the size of their cups, one has to make a conscious choice of submission and use their free will, like in the story of Hay Bin Yakzan, who was on an island isolated from everything. Questioning starts from the outer world in nature; whereas in the case of a Sufi, let’s say Abd al Qadir Gilani, questioning starts from the inner world. They both need to question and act, contest and challenge, in accordance with their predesigned, mysterious competition, but eventually they will be held responsible in accordance with their cup sizes and use of free will.

Nursi believes that that all virtues and perfections are products of coming into existence and that the basis of all rebellion, calamities, and defects are of non-existence. As a result, existence is pure good, while non-existence is pure evil:

Existence is entirely good, for it generates every beauty and perfection; non-existence [which absorbs every good like black holes] is purely evil, for all sin and misfortune originate in it. Given this, whatever contains a hint of non-existence contains an element of evil. So, life, the most brilliant light of existence, becomes stronger as it is confronted with different circumstances. It is purified and perfected through contradictory events and happenings, and produces the desired results by assuming different qualities. Thus it testifies to the impresses of Names of the Giver of life. It is because of this subtle reality that living creatures pass through many states and experience pains, tribulations and hardship, through which the lights of existence are continuously renewed in their lives, and the darkness of non-existence draws distant and their lives are purified. In quality and as conditions, idleness, inertia, and monotony are aspects of nonexistence. Monotony reduces even the greatest pleasure to nothing.

[S]ince life displays the impresses of God’s All-Beautiful Names, everything occurring in it is beautiful. Consider this: A very rich and infinitely skilled clothes designer uses an ordinary model to display his works of art in return for wages. He requires the model to dress in a jeweled and artistically fashioned garment that illustrates his work’s art and his invaluable wealth. He continues to modify the garment while the model wears it. Does the model have any right to say: “Your orders to bow and stand up are causing me trouble. Your cutting and shortening of this garment, which makes me more beautiful, spoils my beauty.” Can the model accuse the designer of treating him unkindly and unfairly?

Similarly, in order to display the impresses of His All-Beautiful Names, the Maker of Majesty, the peerless All-Originating, alters within numerous circumstances the garment of existence He clothes on living creatures, bejeweled with senses, reason, intellect, and heart. Circumstances that appear to be calamitous and painful are actually rays of Divine Mercy within gleams of Wisdom and contain subtle beauties. They show the acts and impresses of the Divine All-Beautiful Names. (Twenty-Sixth Word, p. 490-1)

It is in this regard he even goes further and Nursi discuses, from the point of view of Divine Justice or adalet-i mahza, that one cannot harm his own self and body; they have been bestowed on you by God. He also goes even further to explain that you cannot abuse or misuse animals, plants, or anything else that maintains life; we neither own, nor control them. We can only use and control as little as is necessary to maintain our lives. Furthermore, we will be held responsible and questioned about the things and animals we use, abuse or misuse.

Conclusion

We see that in classical philosophical terms, things could be both just and unjust. However, in reality, nothing can be both just and unjust. It is simply that things which appear unjust to us are in reality just from the point of view of Divine decree and Justice. Philosophically, it is quite acceptable that something can be both just and unjust. However, the implications of this for our explication of the Nursian perspective are that as a believer, of course, Nursi would deny that some things can be both just and unjust: it is as meaningless as saying that something can be both black and white at the same time. However, working from Nursi’s cup analogy, we can talk about apparent or relative justice/injustice, which can exist at the same time as absolute justice. In actual fact, whatever happens is, ultimately, a manifestation of pure or absolute justice, although — and particularly in the retributive sense — it often appears as the opposite.

References

1. Nursi, Bediuzzaman Said. 2010. The Words, NJ: Tughra Books.