A very important principle to uphold is to view everything in a positive light, as long as it does not contradict the spirit of faith. It is also essential to evaluate such efforts fairly and, wherever possible, express appreciation and support. Even in cases where events could be interpreted negatively, one should strive uncover reasonable explanations and draw out constructive meaning.

When faced with unpleasant attitudes or behaviors, it is often wiser to respond with patience and tolerance. Minor issues need not be magnified, nor differences turned into sources of conflict. Rather than rekindling old disputes or creating new ones, choosing calm over confrontation helps open the door to understanding. Such an approach—refraining from hostility and leaning instead toward empathy—can lay the foundation for reconciliation and mutual respect across social divides. In societies marked by deep scars from long-standing resentments and hostilities, nurturing love and goodwill becomes an essential endeavor. And for those who hope to cultivate a culture of compassion and tolerance, the task often begins with seeking new paths forward.

Thanks be to God, the fruits of such efforts begin to appear even in a short time. Problems that cannot be resolved through force or fury slowly start to unravel through love. People who once feel pressured or coerced into submission no longer reject invitations to meet on common ground. Even the rusted locks on hearts that harshness can never open begin to yield to gentleness.

After all, human beings—created in the best of forms and inherently drawn to perfection—cannot remain indifferent to sincere acts of goodness. Throughout history and even today, efforts rooted in love and tolerance have always been worthy and noble pursuits in the eyes of humanity.

Who could possibly take offense at those who follow the path of Mawlana Jalal al-Din Rumi, Haci Bektas Veli, Ahmed Yesevi, or Yunus Emre—figures who open their hearts to all, with no distinction between Muslim or non-Muslim, embracing others simply because they are human? To embrace everyone purely on the basis of shared humanity, to open one’s heart without discrimination, to demonstrate that the essence of existence is rooted in love, to affirm that the religion is for compassion—what harm could there possibly be in any of this?

If these values were considered noble and praiseworthy in the past—as they continue to be seen today—why, then, do some people now feel uneasy or disturbed by them?

There are those who hold Rumi in the highest esteem, who constantly quote Yunus Emre, who speak admiringly of Yesevi, and who take pride in the legacy of Haci Bektas. Yet strangely, when individuals today embody that same spirit and strive to keep it alive across the globe, they are met with accusations and stigmatization. Why? Because the issue is not what is being done—it’s who is doing it.

Since the figures of the past are no longer a threat, there’s no risk in praising them. But when it comes to contemporaries—people who are alive and active today—the standards begin to shift. No matter how admirable the actions may be, if they are carried out by those with a different worldview, that’s when anxieties and paranoia take over.

Those who echo the ideals voiced by Rumi, Yesevi, or Yunus—those who strive to cultivate an atmosphere of love and tolerance in society—are suddenly viewed as dangerous or subversive. Certain vested interests fear that such spiritually grounded individuals may gradually gain influence; that the moral weight, sincerity, and public resonance they carry might place those in power in a morally uncomfortable position; and that, in time, these same power holders may feel compelled—by circumstance rather than coercion—to sit down and engage in genuine dialogue with them.

Had these paranoid minds lived during the time of Rumi, they would have tried to silence him—or even exile him. And if Rumi were alive today, gathering around him a growing circle of admirers, and if people began responding to his call with sincerity—he too would be labeled a threat. Plans would be drawn up in dark corners on how to silence his voice.

Those same malicious voices who now hurl slanders and insults at anyone they label an opponent would no doubt have said similar things about Ahmed Yesevi. They would scheme to undermine the influence of Yunus Emre, who draws people through the love and warmth he spreads. They would brand Haci Bektas Veli a “traitor” and throw him into prison.

Why? Because they cannot tolerate the presence of a will beyond their own, or any form of influence, moral authority, or persuasive appeal that does not stem from their own sphere of control. Sadly, the militaristic mindset of past eras continues today—under new names and disguises—still crushing anyone who refuses to toe their line or follow their roadmap.

In the face of such irrationality and inconsistency, it is only natural for one’s inner strength to be shaken at times. In moments like these, questions may arise about whether the efforts being made—or the dedication shown by those walking a similar path—are truly right and meaningful.

In such moments, a person may find themselves asking, “Am I doing something wrong? Why is there such strong opposition to these efforts?”

Yet, in truth, nothing is amiss. What is being carried out today reflects—almost down to the smallest detail—the very path that Rumi once walked. Today’s Rumis—souls devoted to the Divine, sincere and selfless in their service—continue along that same line, conveying that same message to humanity in a renewed form.

Yet some people refuse to consider the beauty of what is being done. Instead, they focus entirely on who is doing it. Because in their minds, they have already placed these individuals in a box—passed judgment on them, labeled them as “the other,” and branded them as “bad.”

As a result, any good deed carried out by such individuals is automatically deemed bad—not because of the deed itself, but because of who performed it. The reasoning becomes painfully shallow: “If they are the ones doing it, then it must be wrong.”

Even if they were to guide people toward paradise, shield them from the fire, awaken faith in their hearts, help the seeds of eternal bliss bloom within their souls, and bring peace and contentment to the world—they would still be condemned. Their actions would still be misjudged, and they would still be declared guilty.

Because, from the very beginning, the decision had already been made: “We see these people as the other, and so whatever they do must be wrong.” That, in truth, is the heart of the matter.

None of this should discourage anyone or diminish one’s inner strength. On the contrary, good efforts must continue—and even grow—by being multiplied. Those engaged in such work understand their own path and responsibilities, and it is not for anyone to dictate their course. But this much can be said: in times like these, panic is never the right response.

Panic is merely a reflection of the opposing side—their state of mind, their anxieties, their fears. Those who lash out are often the ones most gripped by insecurity. For this reason, what is needed is not panic, but steady, thoughtful resolve. When people devote themselves to serving others—whether ten thousand go out into the world this year to share compassion and inspiration with those in need, and perhaps one hundred thousand do so the next—the true goal is to let such goodness grow. Service, when multiplied, becomes a force that expands naturally and powerfully, reaching more hearts and transforming more lives. In places where hostility is met with walls and offensives, the most powerful response is to take steps inspired by love, dialogue, human embrace, and positive action—steps so sincere and unexpected that negativity cannot reach them. By the time adversaries attempt to catch up, all they encounter is the dust left behind by those advancing through goodwill.

In such moments, it becomes far more difficult for opposition to interfere with or obstruct what is being accomplished. Their efforts collapse under the weight of their own paranoia; they flail within the whirlpool of panic they themselves have created and stumble when confronted with the beauty being brought into existence.

As hearts are drawn toward sincerity and as the reasonableness of compassionate work gathers people together, those who are unsettled by such light—like souls who shrink from brightness—may, in time, become consumed by their own hatred.

Yet it is essential to remember that the aim is never to provoke, enrage, or harm anyone. A spirit rooted in mercy does not respond to curses, seek revenge, or wish misfortune upon others. Even if someone, overwhelmed by paranoia or resentment, were to fall into personal ruin, there is no joy to be found in such an outcome.

There was a moment in my own life that revealed just how easily the heart can be tested. Someone who had caused great harm and acted with deep hostility spoke in such a way that, for an instant, a harsh thought arose within me—a fleeting wish for divine punishment in response to the injustice being endured. At first glance, such a reaction might seem understandable. Throughout history, even revered spiritual figures like Muhammad Bahauddin Naqshband, Imam Ghazali, and Bediuzzaman Said Nursi sometimes sought relief by appealing to divine justice when faced with persistent cruelty or oppression. But for me, the thought was only momentary. As soon as I paused to reflect, my eyes filled with tears. I found myself saying, “No, my Lord—how could I wish punishment upon anyone, even those who act with hostility or seek to discredit sincere efforts with slander and falsehood? Such a wish is too heavy to utter. If You choose to act, let it be through guidance. Let their encounter be not with ruin, but with truth, clarity, and transformation.”

Let the whole world hear this: this must be the state of the heart. One should not wish for anyone to perish in paranoia, anger, restlessness, or inner suffering. Such thoughts have no place in a heart that seeks what is right.

Our sole prayer is this: that God may grant all people fairness and sound judgment. May He allow them to see the truth as it is, in accordance with its full value and dignity. Rather than spending their time in bitterness, stubbornness, and exclusion, may they embrace the good that is being done and allow it to find a place in their hearts.

This path has always been carried by a generous spirit. Whenever someone offers even a small act of kindness, that goodness is cherished and uplifted. The aim is simple: to win hearts and to seek God’s pleasure by helping build a world shaped by peace and harmony. There is no other agenda. Those who manufacture conflict as though it were real only reveal themselves as the true source of unrest.

The great spiritual figures of the past—Rumi, Yesevi, and others—left behind a legacy of expansive love for humanity. Anyone who strives to follow their example will feel their heart drawn toward compassion rather than hostility. Hatred, vengeance, and rage belong to another way of being—one that leads only to division and sorrow. The commitment here is different: never to see another person as “the other,” and even when seen that way by others, to keep one’s arms open.

Even if someone were to approach with hostility or harm in hand, the response must remain: “Come, dear friend—there is still a place for you in my heart.”

May God grant the strength to remain firm upon this path and the ability to carry these good efforts forward in ever-growing measure. Amen.

Sometimes we find God sends among us some of His servants as a blessing. The mere presence of such servants suffices to instill peace and trust, opening a door of hope in our souls. They are guardians of heart who teach goodness by being the way they are. Thomas Michel was one of those guardians. He was a man of wisdom which he derived from the depths of the Christian tradition and a man of elegance that embodied the conscience of all humanity.

I extend my condolences and prayers of patience to his family, friends, those who had the opportunity to meet him, and especially to the volunteers of the Hizmet Movement who feel his loss deeply.

Condolences to us all.

Meeting Fr. Michel for the first time brought an immediate sense of comfort. He taught not by speaking, but by listening. He approached not by authority, but by understanding. This is how he earned a special place in the hearts of all who crossed paths with him.

“What humanity needs most today is a climate of love,” our teacher Fethullah Gülen said many, many times. Thomas Michel was nourished in such a climate, and he carried it with him across the world as one of its architects. Those who sat with him would recognize his state of acquiescence when he listened; his careful choice of words not to hurt anyone’s heart; his deep respect for those from different faith traditions – all of these were manifestations of his sincere connection to God.

In his latest message from Chiang Rai, Thailand, he taught us another lesson with the humblest of words: “Like Muslims, we Christians are not afraid of death because we know we are returning to the God who loves us.”

What a submission – simple yet truthful and touching. It was not words of farewell, but an expression of the inner peace that comes with walking toward God; a peace that gave voice not to the carnal soul, but to his loving heart.

In a spirit of fidelity, Fr. Michel wrote the following in the same message: “I appreciate and am grateful for the many wonderful people that God has allowed me to know in Hizmet.” This was also a crystal-clear testimony to the dialogue he pursued with us, the Hizmet community. He loved us, understood us, and welcomed us with a big embrace. We loved him back. We saw in him the purity of a servant of God seeking his Lord and the Lord’s good pleasure.

Our dear friend Thomas Michel left behind an indelible mark in the heart of the Hizmet community. That mark is not only from his academic research, books, and conferences, but the result of a smile, a compliment, or comforting a heart that were to last a lifetime. He did not only voice his support to interfaith dialogue but made it his natural state of being. His talks were not only informative but urged his audience to think over what it meant to be human.

We learned from his example that differences can lead not to conflict but richness, that diversions can transform not to polarizations but to bridges of love. Thomas Michel reminded us that the Truth spoke to every person with a different language, that what really mattered was to listen to that language with respect. Once, he said the following:

“Faith is when a person can feel the love he or she has for God in the hearts of others.” This love was the yeast that made him who he was.

While there is now a void left in his absence, there is also a legacy that must be upheld: to carry on the subtle and challenging journey of dialogue without interruption, and to continue that journey with love, respect, and a humble heart.

May God help us to carry forward what we have learned from him: kindness, calmness, and humane warmth.

Today, we are seeing off a real friend, a representative of the community of love, a true architect of dialogue. But we also know that every good seed that falls to the earth grows. The seeds Fr. Michel sowed will continue to grow.

May his spirit be blessed.

Sarah waited while sitting near the window with her legs pulled toward her chest. The church bell rang in the distance, and the sky outside was growing darker. That morning, her mother had departed wearing a scarf over her head and carrying a basket.

“If I’m not back before night,” her mom whispered, “take the small bag under the bed and wait for Marie.”

That was her only response.

There was silence in the streets as the sun went down. Sarah stood up and took out the small cloth bag from beneath the bed. It had a small loaf of bread, some cents, and a folded piece of paper with the name “Claire” written on it that she didn’t recognize.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

It was the bread vendor down the street, Marie. She mustered a grin despite her anxious face.

“Come, little one. We have to go now.”

They only moved at night as they made their way through side streets and alleys. Sarah’s hand remained in Marie’s hand. They stayed in basements, barns, and even a church cellar at one point.

Sarah was given warm soup by an elderly man at one stop. A little girl once surrendered her shoes.

Their eyes all had the same silent expression. Kind yet exhausted. “Why are you helping me?” Sarah asked once.

Marie looked away. “Because someone helped me once. That’s all.”

They arrived at a little farm close to the woodland one evening. Pierre, a man, was standing there. He had potatoes and hay in a wooden wagon.

Under the hay, Sarah lay flat after climbing onto the cart. Pretending to be merely a traveler, Marie and Pierre sat up front.

Sarah held her breath as they went by the German checkpoint. Boots on gravel, she could hear the soldiers conversing. Pierre simply chuckled and waved when one of them yelled something.

The cart then continued to roll.

They stood near a row of trees that evening.

“Just past these woods is Switzerland,” Pierre said. “You’ll crawl under the fence. Someone will meet you.”

Marie knelt next to Sarah. “You’re brave. Braver than you think.”

Sarah remained silent. She was too afraid. She did, however, nod.

Her heart thumping, she dashed through the trees. There was moisture on the grass. Her nose stung from the cold air. She fell to her knees and crawled upon seeing the fence.

She was pulled up and held tightly by a woman wearing a coat on the opposite side.

“You made it,” she said.

At the end of the war, Sarah remained in Switzerland. She didn’t see her mother again. She had no idea what had happened to Pierre or Marie.

Despite growing up and moving far away, she lit a tiny candle on her windowsill on the same night each year.

For Marie. For Pierre. For those who offered assistance when it wasn’t required.

I first encountered his teachings more than two decades ago, and they have profoundly shaped who I am. His words offered a path to a higher purpose—one that values compassion, humility, and responsibility toward others, rooted in deep faith in God. Through his teachings, I came to see humanity as a shared journey, where our greatest fulfillment comes from lifting each other up for the sake of God. His lessons taught me that true goodness lies in kindness, understanding, and a life devoted to making a difference in the world. It is these teachings that inspired me to become a teacher and now a contributing editor of his works in English.

My first meeting with Hocaefendi is a memory I will always hold dear. I shared with him how deeply his teachings had moved me, expressing how they had touched my life in ways words could hardly convey. He responded with warmth and humility, saying that my visit brought him joy and that he wanted to share a small gift with his “bacım”—a Turkish term of endearment meaning “dear sister.” As I prepared to leave, he handed me a scarf, his personal tasbih (prayer beads), and a small bottle of fragrance oil. These simple yet meaningful gifts reflected the essence of his teachings: that true beauty lies in small acts of kindness and in the connections nurtured through love and sincerity.

In a time marked by division and misunderstanding, his message of compassion, mutual respect, and service to humanity offers a unifying vision. His emphasis on education, ethical responsibility, and interfaith dialogue underscores that positive change begins within each individual and extends outward. Hodjaefendi’s teachings encourage a life of uplifting others, bridging divides, and fostering peace. One of my favorite quotes of his, from a collection of his speeches and articles in the book, So That Others May Live, reads, “Let us no longer consider ourselves to be a drop destined to dry and vanish. Instead, let us unite as one cascading river, flowing towards the sea of eternity. We all are human: Our genes contain the trace of Adam, and our essence shares the truth of Ahmad.” For communities worldwide, his approach to faith as a vehicle for social harmony and justice serves as a beacon, reminding us that true progress lies in empathy and collaboration. His legacy continues to inspire individuals and institutions to prioritize humanity over differences, building a future rooted in understanding, compassion, and shared purpose.

Fethullah Gülen’s enduring influence on the youth around the world fills me with immense hope for the future. Seeing a generation inspired by his teachings, committed to lives of compassion, integrity, and service, reassures me that his vision will live on. These young individuals are not only equipped to excel personally but also carry a deep sense of responsibility to make the world a better place. Through their actions, they embody the values Hocaefendi championed, working toward a more just, peaceful, and unified world. Knowing that his legacy of compassion and understanding will be carried forward by countless young hearts reminds me that, even in challenging times, a brighter future is possible.

Now, with Hocaefendi’s departure from this temporary world, it falls to us to carry his message forward—to lift the banner he held high and continue the work he inspired in countless lives. His passing does not mark an end but rather a new beginning for all those he touched, a reminder that his teachings are timeless and that his vision lives on in us. The path he illuminated—a life of compassion, service, and unity—is one we must now walk ourselves, ensuring that his legacy endures in the hearts and actions of future generations. It is our turn to nurture the seeds he planted and to bring his ideals into a world in need of hope, understanding, and kindness.

There is so much more to say, but I end here with a couplet from a poem by Rumi that perhaps describes how we should feel at this moment: “Do not weep for my departure, I am not leaving, I am arriving at eternal love…”

Being trouble-free is the biggest trouble of all. I’d rather wish people felt so troubled for others that their hearts felt burning in embers, rather than being trouble-free. Troubled as to why people are in so miserable condition because they do not believe, because they choose to stray from the straight path, because they are so rude and aggressive.

This does not mean believers should artificially subject themselves to different conditions of suffering. On the contrary, we are referring here to the suffering of a believer’s heart which stems from strength of faith, immensity of spirit, and magnanimity of conscience; a heart that is open to the entirety of humanity. The suffering I am mentioning is not one caused by worldly losses and distress; it is a suffering that comes out of a life lived in the shade of the heart and immensity of the spirit.

It is not possible to have such suffering by merely saying “let me be a suffering person now…” This is not a goal one should choose to reach only for its sake. On the contrary, it depends on having belief and occurs as a natural result of faith. It is related to grasping the significance of what the next world means for us. A person who has a strong connection with God and has attained certainty of faith cherishes such compassion for the entire creation that even seeing an ant fall into water and struggling to survive will tug at such a person’s heartstrings. In response to an insect crushed under his foot, the person feels pain as if it were himself being crushed. If a true believer’s feeling of compassion is so developed even towards animals, imagine how much grief such a person would feel for people being thrown to Hell.

This level of compassion is very difficult for those with weak faith, whose connection with God is virtually a thin line and who do not have much to do with a proper religious life. Can such people not be saved? They can be saved of course; God can take anybody to Paradise, even those whose faith is only by imitation, who does not feel concerned for others. This is another thing. But what we are talking about here is being a perfected universal human (insan al-kamil), attaining true faith by verification, and the fact that this is the actual way to feel due suffering. In short, a concern in this sense is an outcome of having wholehearted faith in God; it is the result of a sincere stance.

Sometimes suffering may come as a sort of pleasure for people of a certain level of spiritual progress; the person takes spiritual delight from that very suffering. However, a believer’s course of life should not depend on taking such delight. Nursi mentions the concepts of spiritual journeying in the following order: faith in God; knowledge of God; love for God; and spiritual delight. At first glance to this order, one can be misled as if spiritual delight is the ultimate target. However, even if a spiritual journeyer feels a spiritual delight with their outward and inward senses after a certain level of progress, the person should not seek to feel such delight through their worship or suffering. We need to act with the consciousness that faith, worship, knowledge of God, and loving Him are God’s rights over us and a duty on our part. Therefore, we should never make these conditional to any material or spiritual gain since this might mean daring to take an attitude of claiming rights against God. This is a sensitive issue that calls for much care. What made the Prophet’s Companions endeavor on God’s path in a tireless fashion was this very concern and suffering of theirs. It was their consideration of glorifying the name of God. Since Abu Ayyub al-Ansari knew that having no suffering and concern is a type of death in one sense, he had traveled as far as the vicinity of Istanbul despite his old age. Others as well got themselves tied to their horses and set forth thus because they did not know anything more important than letting God’s name be heard all over the world. This was what they had learned from the Messenger of God. They wished to continue until the end of their lives the understanding and philosophy they had inherited from him. They understood very well that the hardships, troubles, and suffering they would forbear on this path would return to them very differently as great rewards. They believed so soundly and grasped the truth of the matter so quickly. They had sound insight to the truth underlying the message of the Qur’an and the Prophet’s Tradition. They spent a lifetime with love and yearning for God, with a heart open to the realms beyond.

We also read the Qur’an, reflect on books, and we listen to sermons. However, we are not able to reach their level of these pioneers in any way. Had they seen our libraries, they would probably find it ridiculous and say, “Why do you need so much grandiloquence for knowing God?” They had very sound belief. Thanks to that sound belief, they had overcome matters you could not settle by means of referring to heaps of books. It is not possible to find in any other era of world history such a community of people who progressed from sheer ignorance to such a scholarly level and profound spiritual knowledge. After taking their place behind the Pride of Humanity, they found their true identity, they sensed their own truth, and they read their own selves correctly. With regard to knowledge of and love for God, they made a dramatic progress. They saw the realms beyond clearly and did their best in order to attain those wonders and to let other people attain them. Since we are not able to live even one tenth of the life they led, we cannot feel the same concern, suffering, and spiritual delight they did.

Unfortunately, we have much of empty talk and attitude of a know-it-all. We are matchless at paying lip service; there is no one we cannot persuade with demagogy. However, most of the time we are telling about ourselves. Had the Companions of the Prophet seen our situation, they would be surprised at our extensive talk and wonder why we engaged in so much useless talk. They would probably put it simply as, “God is sufficient; all the rest are transient” and astonish at our situation. If we are to compare our situation to theirs we can say that we are the unfortunate people of the lowest level and they were the distinguished people of the highest level.

I have much hope in Divine mercy and live with the hope that even a person like myself will enter Paradise. Given that I cherish such a hope about myself, I easily think the same way about others and say, “According to the nature of people’s deeds, Paradise has eight different gates; if we cannot enter from one maybe we can enter from another.” However, I am not quite sure whether they take us there with our present condition.

We have no right to revile any other people. Everybody must question their own condition: “How many times in my life I prostrated myself at night and cried for the troubles of other believers for an hour? Am I making any efforts for the sake of letting people meet faith?” Everybody can practice such self-questioning and weigh the degree of their share from true humanity. I am not making any exaggerations. Perfection of a person’s faith is to the degree of their compassion to the creation. The degree of a person’s profundity at this type of determination, resolution, endeavor, excitement, and letting people know the Messenger of God correctly reflects the profundity of their being human. When saintly people with deep insight look at you, they evaluate you from this perspective. No matter how you present yourself, no matter what achievements you make, and no matter how many schools you open, the actual factor that determines your true worth is your faith and your relationship with God, as well as your resulting feelings of compassion, suffering, concern, and caring excitements about the creation. The Qur’an relates the suffering of God’s Messenger about his people as, “Yet, it may be that you will torment yourself to death with grief, following after them, if they do not believe in this Message” (Kahf 18:6). Likewise, the noble Prophet stated that (the weight of responsibility expressed by) chapter Hud made his hair turn gray (Tirmidhi, Tafsiru’s Surah, 56 (6). Considering the dramatic flourishing that occurred during the Time of Bliss, the underlying reason was first of all the Messenger of God and then his Companions in his footsteps, with their due concern, suffering, and correct practice of the faith.

It is for this reason that a person’s degree of relation with God, of faith, knowledge of God, and enthusiasm for conveying lofty truths to humanity is the determining factor for the degree of the impact and flourishing that person will effect. Ultimately, the matter relates to having perfected faith, complete sincerity, pure certainty of belief, depth of knowledge and love of God, and having genuine enthusiasm. If you can be deepened in these aspects, the waves you will effect will be in the same scale and reach four corners of the world.

The Example of the First Circle around the Prophet and Those Who Followed Them

(continuing from the previous issue)

Zayn al-Abidin (659-713), the son of Prophet Muhammad’s grandson Husayn, was a deeply spiritual person who voiced his woeful sighs, hoping to gain God’s forgiveness and mercy. The following is some of his pearl-like prayers:

“O God, I am not the first person that has spent his life in rebellion and then turned to you with a sincere feeling of remorse. I have touched the doorknob of Your door of Mercy, and thus expected Your mercy, compassion, and grace; so many others bowed their heads before that door and none of them returned empty-handed.”

“O my most exalted Lord! I have come to Your sublime presence without any provisions; You are such a magnanimous Bestower; please respond to my prayers and implorations, and do not let me down in my hopes and expectations!”

These sighs and pleas resonate with those made by the people within the “blessed circle,” the group of Companions and family members of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) that knew him personally and were able to directly experience his radiance and spirituality. Thus, they offer these compositions of prayer from their heart to those whose hearts gave in to heedlessness and are astray from the course that they are supposed to take. Their goal with these heart-piercing prayers is to try and make the souls of those stranded on the path – like myself – feel what they felt. With lyrics from “the blessed circle,” and the tune from this angelic soul of Zayn al-Abidin who burned with a love of God, they express their opening up to God in the mode of adhan – call to prayer – and attempt to come to grips with their soul through prayers such as:

How can sleeping heedlessly be becoming for the humble servant,
while the All-Beneficent calls out with compassion at nights
(Ibrahim Haqqi)

Such prayers resonate with the heartstrings of those who understand and – if they are not in complete spiritual death – rise and come running with the hopes of getting closer to the Almighty. May God enable us, too, to be awakened with those sincere invocations and come to our senses!

Zayn al-Abidin does not suffice only with opening up to God, and thus wishes to turn to Him in every way that he can spiritually. To be of guidance to those coming from behind in how to face oneself for sincere repentance, he places his head down at the door of Divine beneficence and mercy, and this time offers a different prayer:

“My God! My wrongdoings and sins – as if he were someone who ever committed sin (FG) – enshroud my soul with despicableness. I have become separate from You and I am clad in misery. Sins have utterly darkened my heart – what a profound self-supervision it is! (FG). I am at Your door, my head bowing on the doorstep of compassion; O the solely worshiped and besought one! Please do accept this beseeching and repentance of mine! Once more, I have turned to Your most exalted court. With my head humbly bowed down, I obediently stand in Your Supreme presence and wait for a decree of my forgiveness. If you expel this servant of Yours from Your door, whom can I turn to; whom can I seek refuge with?! O Almighty Lord who forgives even the greatest sin and dresses up injured hearts in disorientation. I wish from You to forgive my shameful wrongs and regard them as null, and to screen all of my sins. In the realms beyond, do not deprive me either, of Your graces to those whom You love and of that refreshing climate of Your favors, bounty, and beneficence!”

By presenting one more different picture of imploration with these words, he attempts to drink from the fountains of forgiveness, repentance, and sincere penitence. In direct proportion with their vast horizons of spiritual knowledge, they grieve so deeply that it would be easy to mistake them for sinners. Even though we may not be aware, such sighs are in fact prayers of glorification and actually belong to the horizons of those closest to God; they are a call to prayer to warn the ignorant ones. No matter what a person of that level of spirituality says, I think that that monumental personage actually did not even socialize with evil temptations even in his dream. On the other hand, he still kept praying and asking for forgiveness, which was an outcome of his exceptionally close position before God; this is a lesson and serves as spiritual counsel for us.

“I am at Your doorstep,” says he constantly and keeps petitioning to God with his head humbly bowed down:

“O my exalted God! Do not ever let me be separated from You and fall into sin. Do not allow me to drift into rebellion, which is like an all-consuming sea. Save this servant of Yours from drifting to things to incur Your displeasure! Here I complain to You about my distressing carnal soul which makes me run after never ending worldly ambitions; my carnal soul that keeps whining against troubles and misfortunes, which credits itself for every good thing and is always inclined to futility. Inflicted with heedlessness and oblivion, my carnal soul makes me ever prone to sins, and tempts me to delay my repentance to You until ‘tomorrow’ with each passing day.”

I do not know what this pure and innocent soul, who already rests on the horizons of contentment with God, means by his “carnal soul”? He goes even further seeking refuge against Satan and whirlpools of fancies:

“O God! I complain to You about this dead heart of mine, captivated by various evil whisperings and hardened with rust, and which forgot the meaning of being in fear and awe of God…

Can those among us who has been in oblivion of tears and shudders of the heart now for centuries, those who have reduced faith to outward rituals, those who are described in the Qur’an as “donkeys loaded with books” (Jumu’ah 62:5), those who are not aware of what they are carrying, can they make sense of these prayers?

He still does not suffice with this and turns to the horizons of awe and reverence of God, and to the essential elements of human perfection and virtue in the shade of the truth “the beginning of wisdom is awe of God.” He groans, as if voicing the following lines of the poet Mehmed Akif, and once more he humbly bends before the Truth:

What gives loftiness to character is neither wisdom nor the conscience,
It is a fear of God that evokes the feeling of virtue in us
If fear of the Almighty in hearts were to disappear,

Wisdom or the conscience would not have any influence anymore
Life would fall to an animal level; no, even lower than animals! (M. Akif)

This is the thinking of Zayn al-Abidin and with such thoughts he inspires others to become true humans. He expresses these feelings through prayers of fear and reverence before God. Beyond the peaks of consciousness of being seen by Him, he groans like a reed flute as if they are brought before God and have a vigilant attitude. Here are a few bunches of fear and awe from him in different patterns and hues of hope:

“O my exalted God, the eternal sovereign of mercy and compassion! Are You to throw this loyal servant of Yours who turned to You into the fire of being without You? Are You to deprive me of Your forgiveness and not pardon this helpless one whose misdeeds can only be purified by Your immense seas of mercy? No, a hundred thousand times no, of course! You never let down in disappointment those who turned to Your divine court.”

As if he remained breathless here, he groans like a heart resonating with the strike of a plectrum of awe:

“If only I could know that You included my name in the book of fortunate ones and honored me with Your closeness! If I only knew this, so that my eyes and heart too would light up with joy. O God! Do not shut Your gates of Mercy against those who know You and believe in You even only to some extent! As I hope and believe, please do not let down the hearts You have revived by letting them feel Your exalted existence into the misery of being without You—You never did so—and thus do not let us down into the fires of separation and Hell! My God! Save me, Your servant from Your displeasure and due sufferings!”

One can feel his deep concerns in the following words:

“Save me from the torment of Hell on that toughest day when good and evil will be distinguished, when people will be at their wits’ end, when souls engaged in good acts will be enraptured with the rejoice of closeness to God, when unfortunate ones who misspent their lives will shake with the grief of remoteness, and when nobody will be subjected to the slightest degree of injustice.”

With the feelings of an utterly sinful one Zayn al-Abidin sets about most heartfelt implorations. With the awareness that “two fears and two assurances” do not coexist, he passes from one petitioning to another. He constantly implores God with his open hands at the door of His Mercy and teaches those who are believers on the outside, but not in the inside, and those who are deprived of awe and reverence of God.

Read the previous article: Facing Oneself

We begin with a piece about spiritual revival and what it means for a person to devote their life “so others may live.” Compassion serves as the foundation for this cause from which a love of humanity can spring forth from. The heart becomes hard in the absence of compassion and is often much less concerned with the sufferings of others.

Tushar Gandhi, Mohandas Gandhi’s great-grandson, honors his great-grandfather on his 150th birth anniversary in a thoughtful piece about his leadership style and continued emphasis on nonviolence. Mohandas Gandhi always encouraged compassion, tolerance, and love among his followers and their approach towards the oppressive British Raj. It could be argued that Gandhi’s approach could have been significantly different had he centered his movement around violence, anger, and ignorance instead of the Satyagraha movement of nonviolence and compassion.

Research by the late Japanese scientist Dr. Masaru Emoto has shown that positive or negative speech, emotions, thoughts, and energy can change the very molecular structure of Earth’s most important liquid: water. It was shown that compassionate speech caused water to form beautiful crystal, whereas hateful speech formed black, broken, and chaotic messes. The implications of this research are phenomenal considering water is the very essence of all life on our planet.

A call to action from Maisie Bennett draws attention to the fires that are still raging in the Amazon Rainforest, destroying the very lungs of our Earth that are integral for sustaining our shared ecosystem. Apathy and greed have taken hold and have seduced people into destroying our planet’s pristine natural beauty in order to claim more land for our own. We, as an international community, must bring forth our compassion and address this critical environmental crisis once and for all.

April Estes, a heroic mother and cancer survivor, shares her story in her piece “Praise the Lord, I’m Bald.” What she has been through is a reminder that challenges that come with cancer are not only about fighting it; “the real battle” is “learning to live again.” Raising awareness in this respect is important, for healing from cancer is not only a biological cure, but one that also needs psychological, social, and economic support in its aftermath.

The feeling of pity is the quiver of a person’s heartstrings and spirit, a quiver that resonates from a sincere sense of compassion deep in one’s soul. Feeling pity, as it were, can be found in all living beings and is a manifestation of many Divine names of compassion[1]; yet, it is actually a Divine grace special to humanity with its distinctive profundities. It is by this extraordinary gift (if a person is not completely distanced from humane qualities) that a person begins to suffer in the spirit and mind before a harrowing scene. Proportional to their sensitivity, such individuals are immersed in grief and sighs.

Feelings of compassion and pity are indispensably found in all living beings, primarily in humankind and especially in parents. People try to eliminate whatever triggers this emotion, even if it means risking and sacrificing one’s own life or standing against fires without considering what pity might cost. When feeling pity, one completely erases from the heart the feeling and thought of living. A hen attacks a cat or dog for the sake of protecting her young; a rabbit ventures death against wolves and hyenas; cattle defy lions or tigers with their horns. And human beings in particular, if they have not lost this magnanimous feeling and inner profundity, will virtually burn from within in the face of scenes that trigger pity; they will dare jumping into fires and walk against death without hesitation when feeling deep pity.                                                                                                                                    

Feelings of compassion and pity are directly proportional to the flourishing of the person’s heart. In lofty souls, it goes beyond every frame and reaches to the horizons of those closest to God. They react to selfish considerations expressed as, “an ember burns the very spot it falls on” (those who really suffer are only the first persons involved); instead they say, “no matter where it falls, that fire burns me up from within!” Thus, they run to extinguish the fire, shouting warnings and holding extinguishers of humane compassion.

In great personages, and more so in prominent ones among them, this feeling is so deep and sincere that they feel agonized on seeing those who suffer. With such an outburst and stupor of compassion, they do not see or feel themselves anymore; thus, they keep saying, like Nursi once did once: “Given that I see the faith of my people saved, I even accede to burning in the flames of Hell. For, as my body smolders in fire, my heart will transform into a rose garden.” They voice their feelings with notes that remind of the noble Prophet who returned down to the world after his journey up to the heavens (Mi’raj) for the sake of eternal bliss for humanity, and they even consider throwing themselves in the fire to burn instead of those victims. Their feelings of compassion and pity are of a nature to make angels envious and of a quality to serve as an invitation to rays of Divine beneficence to come from beyond.

With a resolution that can only be surpassed by that of a Prophet, they keep running for help night and day, offering prescriptions of all kinds to extinguish the fires of pity. Moaning with a melody of most heartfelt compassion, they say, “here I am.” They knock on every door they reach with laments to wake up those inside, and then they leave only to turn back a few more times. They leave as they turn over the duty to wake to the morning breeze. They do not feel sick and tired of their visits, of meeting insult and disrespect, because their road is that of the Prophets which averts people from Hell and takes them closer to Paradise and beyond; and they are well aware of the requirements of this path.

The source of inspiration for those distinguished servants was the conscientious magnanimity of the Master of the Prophets. He had ascended to the heavens to meet with the Divine; then, he had gone to the furthest boundary[2] and approached the Divine, as close as two bow lengths. A day of the former and a moment of the latter are more pleasurable than thousands of years in the world. He had the opportunity to stay up there, but he bid a temporary farewell to Paradise and returned to this realm of tribulation for the sake of saving others from falling to the lowest of the low and directing them to the highest horizons. He did it with a feeling of compassion and sense of deep pity special to him, for those who drifted towards Hell. He did it to let others also feel what he felt and allow them to enjoy what he had seen and to present brightness to unfortunate ones in pitiable condition who go through deformations of the heart and spirit.

With such a degree of altruism, while he was giving his loftiest character and mission their due, he was showing the ways to save people from the dark end unbelief is bound for, together with directing them to the ascent leading up to what faith promises. Actually, as that matchless person saw poor souls who had not completely lost their human quality but were struggling in a whirlpool of unbelief and misguidance, he writhed under their situation with a perpetual feeling of compassion and pity; and with that immense spirit of altruism he was blessed with, he would lament for them and immediately call everybody to his radiant course. These sighs and moans had even moved dwellers of heavens. The following counsel of moderation implied compliment while also reminding him of the frame of his duty: “Yet, it may be that you (O Muhammad) will torment yourself to death with grief, following after them, if they do not believe in this Message,” (Kahf 18:6). Thus, some water of relief was poured on his blazing heart.

Along with similar moderation and counsel, many other elucidating verses of the Qur’an also made emphasis to his noble character in this respect and gave a lesson of self-possession to those who took that course. They understood him, received their lesson, and contributed with their voices to that heavenly voice with a consideration of being a vanguard on the way to Paradise. The souls oriented to the lofty circle that followed his footsteps at every issue also showed the same attitude of beneficence and compassion; they kept sighing by adding new ones to his ballads of pity.

After them, neither did such moans cease nor the feeling of pity in hearts disappear. New compositions with melodies of the realms beyond were presented to those who staggered on; they were given glad tidings of a possibly blissful future. In the face of those who were taken by currents of unbelief and deviation and were drifting toward the destined fires, everybody was called to help: “Come, fetch water, hurry up! There is fire!” They cried to put off that inevitable end. As the glad tidings voiced a different aspect of compassion, the warnings aimed to stop the flowing towards Hell. They had belief in God and the Prophet; they saw their thoughts and actions as the necessity of being truly human—which can be in the sense of feeling pity, compassion, or purity of heart—and thus they acted without expecting anything in return. The theme and meaning is from God; the lyrics—as an outcome of their playing the part that falls to their freewill—are from the blessed Prophets and particularly the final one; and the composition is from those in the lofty circle and from the distinguished servants who are overjoyed with beholding the realms beyond the mundane world.

This blessed ember was so heartfelt to make the earth and the heavens whirl like dervishes, and its impact was forceful. Those who heard the melody, which sounded as if blown from the Trumpet of Israfil[1], were invigorated in accordance with the horizons of their comprehension, and, after some continuation, there would come a time when they also contributed to it with the sound of their own hearts. In time, this would turn to a tune of resurrection that resonated in ears. A time would come when those on the road, whose condition and feelings in terms of human values lagged much behind, also joined this feeling of compassion and pity. This humble author of yours remembers how he once wept for half-an-hour out of compassion and feeling of pity after the death of a bee – it was unthinkable for such a person not to wail on seeing intertwined problems causing different vicious circles of deformation in the world of humanity. By taking these into consideration, this humble servant also wished to join that sacred symphony and said, “I feel pity!” He sang ballads of pity for pitiable ones and offered moans for the waking of those who stumble their way on. With this, he expressed his pity for those who walk in the swamps of unbelief without a purpose and ideal, in spite of the blessed course of the Prophets.

“The universe is a great book of God all around,
whichever letter you try, you will find that its meaning points to God.”
(Recaizade)

I feel pity for those who have been blind all their lives and fail to study this book of the universe and what lies behind it. I feel pity for those who disregard the Hereafter and eternal life by falling for the outward beauty of this world and its deceptive magnificence and pomp. I feel pity for those who live blind and deaf to the eternal life in favor of transient sovereignty and ostentation. I feel pity for the slaves of an inferiority complex and who despise their past in slums and now boast of moving from one villa to another. I feel pity for those out of their mind to the degree of preferring this ephemeral and perishable worldly life over Paradise and Divine Beauty. I feel pity for the thickly heedless, who fell so low as to be bought off for the sake of this short-lived worldly life and fantasies of status, rank, money, and luxury. I feel pity for the dead at soul, the unfortunate ones who spend their time laughing and consuming vain entertainment in spite of the present violations of our dignity and honor. I feel pity for the mute devils who do not speak against intertwined destructions and irreparable collapses. I feel pity for those who eat, drink, and lie lazily, unaware of being no different than beasts in God’s sight. I feel pity for those in outward human form, unaware of the blessing of “the best stature” that the human is and what being one requires from us. I feel pity for those who came forward by saying “rights and justice!” like the Prophets did, but ended up as henchmen of the Pharaoh. I feel pity for those who treat human values like a cheap commodity, at a time when lying is so popular, betrayal is seen as a necessity, and rights are only entrusted to God. I feel pity for the hypocrites who make up religious legitimacy to deceive and slander in their attempt to pass these off as “battle tactics.” I feel pity for the so-called religious scholars who let their dignity be trampled under feet with sycophancy for the sake of a cursed appreciation or a dirty medal. I feel pity for the unfortunate “sold” ones who give rulings in return for a few banknotes.

I feel pity for those who go astray with light hearted statements like “let them steal…” I feel pity for the chameleons who vilify believers to obtain a short-lived worldly rank. I feel pity for those notorious ones oblivious to truth and who declare lies to be true and truths to be lies for fear of losing their lawful or unlawful benefits and titles. I pity those worshippers of worldliness who turn a blind eye to atrocities not even committed by crusaders. I pity those hypocrites who use their pen for besmirching people and call this vice a “war strategy.”

And I also pity myself for I was overcome by my good opinion of others and failed to tell about these atrocities to the masses. I pity myself for mistaking everybody as a friend by disregarding the truth I expressed in this poem:

“The heart always keeps seeking a true friend
but sometimes one who appears a friend turns out to be a hypocrite!”

I feel deep pain within and sigh for having failed to recognize and having fallen for the faith of a couple of hypocrites. I feel remorse and pains in my bosom for failing to keep up this principle: “Have good opinion of others, but be cautious, too.”

I try to find consolation by saying that, “we should view the past and misfortunes from a perspective of Divine decrees,” but I still feel pangs of conscience for failing to take a stance in line with the Quranic teachings against what happened and thus feel to be in a pitiable condition. Although waves and rays of oppression and malice struck my horizons of thought in a very early phase, I accuse myself for having failed to take shelter in Divine protection in utter confidence in Him and feel agonized with pains.

How I wish that it would have been possible to detect hypocrisy when they spoke of rights and justice and gave pompous lip service to respecting believers while things were shifting towards a disaster like Karbala[2]; then innocent people wouldn’t be martyred and bloodshed wouldn’t amount to streams. But it is too late; oppression and malice have reached a level to incur Divine wrath. What falls to us after this point is to say, “goodness is what God has decreed,” by taking shelter in serenity from God (sakina), self-possession (tamkin), reliance on (tawakkul) and submission to (taslim) Him, commitment (tawfidh) and utter confidence (siqa) in Him, and then expect for extra graces from the Almighty concerning those completely astray; and this should be the very attitude indispensably expected from a believer.

Footnotes

[1] Like ar-Rahman, ar-Rahim, al-Hannan, al-Mannan

[2] Lote Tree (Sidrat al-Muntaha)

Notes

[1] Israfil: the angel to give start for the apocalypse.

[2] The heart-rending incident where the Prophet’s grandchildren and their company were brutally murdered.

For Muslims, Jesus is one of the five elite prophets, and he will come again at the end of time to bring peace. Although Muslims and Christians have a very similar idea of Jesus as far as his birth, general personality, and second coming are concerned, there are major differences in the way each religion treats Jesus. Muslims do not hold Jesus as the son of God. For Muslims, he is a messenger from God, and beloved of God. Despite the differences, given his importance to both traditions, Jesus is and should be a figure that Muslims and Christians can rally around and use as a foundation for dialogue and peace.

To understand Islam’s Jesus, the first thing one should know is that belief in Jesus is one of the major principles of faith in Islam. Belief in all prophets and messengers of God is one of the six articles of faith in Islam. Therefore, when a Muslim utters the statement of faith – “there is no deity but God and Muhammad is the Messenger of God” – from his or her heart, indirectly they are saying that Jesus, like all other prophets and messengers, is a messenger of God.

Muslims believe that there were 124,000 prophets who came before the Prophet of Islam. Not just anyone can be a prophet or a messenger of God: only people of extraordinary character can be one. Muslim theologians have developed five attributes that a prophet of God must possess: trustworthiness, truthfulness, innocence, the ability to convey God’s message, and intelligence. Anyone who lacks one of these principles cannot be accepted as a prophet or a messenger of God. These attributes are indeed attributes that can be said about almost any Christian understanding of Jesus.

There are five prophets who tower above the others. Jesus is one of these prophets, along with Abraham, Moses, Noah, and Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon them all. These five are known collectively as the ul al-‘azm:the possessors of steadfastness. Islam views Jesus, and all prophets before him, as well as their faithful followers, as muslims, with a small m. The word muslim in Arabic literally means those who have submitted themselves to the will of God. Since there are no capital letters in Arabic, the term muslim encompasses both muslims and Muslims.

Despite Muslims not believing Jesus is the incarnation of God, there are many aspects of Islam’s Jesus that Christians can recognize. In fact, there are far more shared qualities than there are differences. For instance, Islam’s Jesus was a miracle worker, most famously speaking from his cradle to defend his mother, Mary, over charges of adultery and licentiousness. The Qur’an states that when Mary gave birth to Jesus and brought him to her people, they asked her, “From where did you get your baby?” They wondered how she could have a baby without getting married. Mary pointed at the baby, and Jesus spoke, saying, “I am the servant of God. He has given me the Book [the Gospel] and He has appointed me to be a Prophet” (19:30).

The Qur’an instructs Muslims to love all prophets without distinction; however, for many Muslims, there is a special love for Jesus. This is perhaps because, according to Muslims, Jesus spoke both in the Qur’an and in the Gospel about the coming of the Prophet of Islam. In the Gospel of John, Jesus said, “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever” (14:16). This Advocate, according to some Muslim theologians, is the Prophet of Islam. In the Qur’an, Jesus said, “O children of Israel! Surely I am the Messenger of God to you, confirming the Torah [that was revealed] before me and giving the good tidings of a Messenger who will come after me, whose name is Ahmad” (60:6). Ahmad comes from the same root as Muhammad, and it is understood that it is another name for the Prophet of Islam.

It is important to look more deeply at what is written in the Qur’an about Jesus. In the Qur’an, Jesus is mainly characterized by his message, which centers on worshipping the One God (5:116–17). Jesus is mentioned in more than ninety verses of the Qur’an. The Qur’anic Jesus is a receiver of Divine scripture. God revealed to him a special message, Injil, the Islamic name for the Gospel (3:48, 5:46-7, 19:30, 57:27). The Qur’an refers to the Gospel as a source of guidance, light, and admonition for God-fearing people (5:46-7). Jesus made certain things, which were forbidden to Israelites, lawful (3:50). Jesus called upon the people to submit themselves to the will of God. Because of this, the Qur’an praises the disciples of Jesus (3:52, 61:14). Therefore, Muslims revere the followers and disciples of Jesus for their struggle in the way of God and their support for Jesus.

The Hadith or the sayings of the Prophet are the second most important source for Islamic theology, and one can also find many references to Jesus in the Hadith. Citing all of these references is beyond the scope of this essay, but I want to look closely at one example. A reliable hadith in al-Bukhari’s al-Sahih states that the Prophet saw a dream in which he was circumambulating the Ka’ba, Islam’s holy shrine in Mecca, and while doing so he saw Jesus doing the same. He saw Jesus as very clean, with combed hair.

“In my dream while I was circumambulating the Ka’ba, I saw a man of brown color, the best one can see among brown-colored human beings. His hair was so long that it fell between his shoulders, among the best hairs one can see. He had combed his hair and it was as if water was dripping from his head, and he was on the shoulders of two men circumambulating the Ka’ba. I asked, ‘Who is this?’ They replied, ‘This is Jesus, the son of Mary.’”

Given the importance of cleanliness in Islam, the fact that Jesus is described in this way is significant. It reinforces that Muslims should strive to fulfill his message of peace and serenity, a message proclaimed by the Prophet of Islam.

In the Hadith, there are also around 100 sayings about Jesus’ descent from Heaven, which is analogous to the “Second Coming” in Christian tradition. According to Islamic theology, Jesus will come as a messianic figure with an eschatological role that includes bringing justice and reviving religion. Muslims understand his coming as a promise of change in the course of history and as the onset of the establishment of justice. Jesus, a symbol of goodness, will defeat the Antichrist, a symbol of oppression and evil. This is such an important part of Islam that manuals of Islamic theology refers to the descent of Jesus and his defeat of the Antichrist as a statement of belief.

Because of this theological principle, both classical and modern Muslims have elaborated on the concept. In my book Islam’s Jesus, I dedicated two long chapters to this element of Jesus’s role in Islamic theology. Islam does not just accept the idea of fatalistically waiting for the coming of Jesus; individuals must strive to make the world a peaceful place. It must be said though that while the persona of Jesus is as an essential part of Islamic theology, given the many direct references to him and his message in the Qur’an, when it comes to his descent, the case is different. The descent of Jesus is not mentioned in the Qur’an per se. However, there are some verses that are considered hints at his descent. For example, 43:61 indicates that Jesus is the Sign of the Hour. Although some commentators interpreted this verse by saying that his miraculous birth, not his descent as the sign of the final Hour, most commentators see this as referring to his descent prior to the Hour.

Like theologians, Muslim mystics also have spoken about Jesus and his message. Sufis like Ibn al-Arabi, Rumi, and al-Sharani, have much to say about Jesus and his role in the Islamic tradition. Once again there are too many examples to discuss; to suffice, I will just mention one from Rumi. In a verse of poetry, Rumi wrote about the power of Jesus’ breath – not the physicality of that breath, but the power hidden in it that raises the dead. Rumi likened a human being to the breath of Jesus. The physical aspect of that breath is weak, but there is a very strong inner aspect of both the breath and the human being. He wrote:

“Man is like the rod of Moses; Man is like the breath of Jesus.”

On another occasion, Rumi compared the nature of Jesus to that of angels:

“Jesus and Idris [Enoch] ascended to heaven, since they were of the same race as angels.” (For more information on this, see my book, Islam’s Jesus, pp. 129-130.)

In conclusion, the essences of the teaching of Jesus are love, peace, and compassion. One should remember that all verses of the Qur’an begin with, “In the name of the Most-Compassionate, Most-Merciful.” It is this call to mercy and compassion that can bring together members of all faiths, and particularly members of the Abrahamic faiths. As I argue in my book, the members of the Abrahamic family constitute more than one half of humanity; if they can come together in peace and love, they will go a long way to securing a safe, peaceful future for the world.

Today, humanity needs this message of love, hope, and peace, more than ever. It can be argued that when the Prophet said that Jesus will come as a just ruler, he emphasized the importance of justice and peace on earth. If the trend toward dialogue and cooperation leads to justice and peace in our world, it will mean the fulfillment of the messages of both Muhammad and Jesus, peace and blessings be upon both of them.

The Dalai Lama says it this way, “Compassion is the radicalness of our time.” From his perspective, compassion is a radical action because it is an act of imitation of our God who is the All Compassionate One. It is a radical action because it challenges our culture that is so often filled with violence and hatred to embrace a better way, a way that nurtures peace and brotherhood rather than division and discord.

Mr. Gulen and the Dalai Lama are talking about the same thing using different sets of images. I would propose that there is no one image that can capture all that compassion means. Compassion is at the essence of all authentic religions and it is the goal of the human behavior of all those who call themselves religious. When we go to the dictionaries, we find that even there the radicalness of compassion is distinctive. The words “empathy and sympathy” (i.e., to enter into the experience of the other) are psychological words. These are qualities one would expect from a good therapist or a close friend. Compassion is much more than empathy or sympathy. Compassion belongs to divine; it is something that people nourished from the divine do.

The word “compassion” comes from two Latin words, “Cum” and “Patior,” meaning to “suffer with.” In other words, it is to actually share in the suffering of others; to walk with them into their pain. Frederick Buechner creatively captures the essence of compassion:

“Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you, too.”

Buechner’s words are a marvelous description of what is meant by unconditional love. Only God loves unconditionally; we imitate Him and try to love as best we can. As we grow more deeply into pure love, the more our love evolves into compassion, the highest form of love.

Karen Armstrong, the renowned scholar of religion, in her wonderful work, The History of God, wrote that it is in the mystical traditions where all of the major religions find common ground. The mystical path is one that leads us into the arms of a loving God who then commands us to bring this gift to others. The classic doctrine of the three ways offers a paradigm for the spiritual journey.

The Purgative way is the beginning of the journey. God calls us to abandon sin and tendencies towards evil. We then gradually grow into the Illuminative way. The word itself implies a movement out of the darkness into the beauty of the light. It is the path towards enlightenment that leads eventually to the Unitive way. The ultimate goal of the journey is reunion with God. The test of the authenticity of our relationship with God is the charity of our lives. Reunion with God that is real and true leads to solidarity with other people, especially the poor and the suffering through the gift of compassion. The three major Abrahamic religions, the “Religions of the Book,” converge in their emphasis on the centrality of charity and compassion. Although we could include other religious traditions that would be in agreement, I will limit myself in this article to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

In the Jewish tradition, God is called the “Father of Compassion.” Thus “Rahamana,” or the Compassionate, becomes the usual designation for His revealed word. Sorrow, pity, and the desire to help the other in their helplessness are qualities that are ascribed both to God and humans in the Torah. The Rabbis speak of the “thirteen attributes of compassion.”

“The Lord! The Lord! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding kindness and faithfulness” (Exodus 34: 60). The attribute of compassion will sometimes necessitate doing even more than the law requires. Compassion is a trait indigenous to the Jewish people:

“The children of our father Abraham…are merciful people who have mercy upon all” (Abadim 9:8).

“If someone is cruel and does not show mercy, there are sufficient grounds to doubt his image” (Babylonian Talmud, Betzah 32b).

Compassion as a manifestation of the “imitatio Dei” (The Imitation of God) is the goal of one’s spiritual life in Judaism.

Asked for a summary of the Jewish religion “while standing on one leg” in the most concise terms, Hillel stated: “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellows. That is the whole Torah. The rest is the explanation: go and learn.” (Babylonian Talmud, tractate Shabbat 31a).

This, of course, is grounded in the great Schema of Israel: “Hear, O Israel, You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart, soul, and strength” (Deuteronomy 6:4-9). This text is coupled with what we later read in Leviticus: “And love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:9-18). This is the message of the prophets throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, always calling the people back to the covenant by hearing the cry of the poor through the ears of compassion.

The tradition of compassion in the Hebrew Scriptures deepened in the New Testament in the teachings of Jesus. Compassion is made concrete in the Christian dispensation in the traditional works of mercy, both corporal and spiritual. Corporal mercy includes feeding the hungry; giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked; housing the homeless; visiting the sick and imprisoned; ransoming captives; and burying the dead. Spiritual mercy involves instructing the ignorant; counseling the doubter; admonishing sinners; being patient; forgiving offenses willingly; comforting the afflicted; and praying for the living and the dead. The very nature of a religion that is based on the incarnation logically demands concrete actions and acts of charity in the world.

The New Testament emphasizes “Agape” as the highest form of love. The Greek word “Agape” implies love in the highest degree. In contrast to eros (emotional/sexual love) or philea (friendship), agape is the total giving of the self to the other in absolute freedom as pure gift. St. Paul in his letters often makes reference to this being the manner in which we describe God. He refers to God as the “Father of Compassion” and the “God of all Comfort”:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-7).

Jesus models the way in which we should do this by opening his arms on the cross as the sign of the fullness of compassionate love. He challenges us now to offer this same gift to others. He assures his listeners in the Sermon on the Mount that, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” In the Parable of the Good Samaritan he holds up to his followers the ideal of compassionate conduct. True Christian compassion should extend to all, even to the extent of loving one’s enemies. The two Great Commandments of love of God and love of neighbor in the New Testament unite the two loves, i.e. by loving the other, we love God.

The revelation to the Prophet Muhammad brings the Judeo-Christian value of compassion into the heart of Islam. In the Muslim tradition, foremost among God’s attributes are mercy and compassion, or in the canonical language of Arabic, “Rahman” and “Rahim.” Each of the 114 chapters of the Qur’an, with one exception, begins with the verse, “In the name of Allah the Compassionate, the Merciful.” A good Muslim is to commence each day, each prayer and each significant action by invoking God the Merciful and Compassionate One.

At the heart of Muslim belief is the principle of “tawhid” or oneness. This oneness, or unity, has been described as that which dominates the mind in Islam, while the heart is intrinsically linked to the concept of compassion:

“My Mercy encompasses all things” (Qur’an 7:156).

“My mercy takes precedence over my anger.”

Islam sees the sentiments of love and compassion as expressions of the interconnected oneness of all human beings, reflecting the oneness and unity of God.

The Sufi mystics often come back to this core theme in the Qur’an. Jalal al-Din Rumi, born in modern day Afghanistan, in 1207 AD, is arguably the best known Sufi writer in the West. Rumi stipulates that while love is of the essence in Sufism, it is something that has to be experienced to be understood. “Love cannot be contained within our speaking or listening. Love is an ocean whose depths cannot be plumbed… Love cannot be found in erudition and science, books and pages… the kernel of Love is a mystery that cannot be divulged” (Diwan-i Shams-i Tabrizi).

Rumi, like the mystics in other traditions, internalizes and integrates the sacred teachings of his religious tradition. He powerfully articulates the spirit of the Qur’an that stresses that righteousness is not in precise observance of the rituals but in acts of compassion and kindness. It says that the litmus test for true belief and genuine worship is that should lead to compassionate living:

“It is not righteousness that you turn your faces to the East or the West, but truly righteous is he who believes in Allah and the Last Day and the angels and the Book and the Prophets, and spends his money for love of Him, on the kindred and the orphans and the needy and the wayfarer and those who ask for charity, and for ransoming the captives; and who observes prayer and pays the alms; and those who fulfill their promise when they have made one, and the patient in poverty and afflictions and the steadfast in time of war; it is these who have proved truthful and it is these who are God-fearing. “(Qur’an 2:178)

Let us return now to the radicalness of compassion that brings the symphony of God’s music into our world. I would suggest that in the twenty-first century, in a post 9/11 world, compassion is the anecdote to the violence and hatred that seems to permeate our world. Cardinal Walter Kasper recently wrote a book entitled Mercy. The book is a thorough analysis of the word “Compassion” and he equates it with the word “Mercy.” He opines that mercy fuels the agenda and outcome of true compassion. He proposes that we need to create a culture of mercy. He says the challenge that we face is that, “Mercy is a difficult word for many today. Often those who know how to assert themselves and to get their way make a bigger impression than those who are merciful… therefore, as a first step, we have to expend some effort to disclose anew the original and thoroughly strong sense of this word” (p. 21).

We are blessed because God has sent two messengers of mercy into our world at this time when we need so desperately to rediscover the importance of mercy for the sake of peace and harmony in a world on the brink of destruction.

The first messenger is Jorge Mario Bergolio, now known as Pope Francis. He is already being acclaimed as the “Pope of Mercy.” He has announced a Jubilee Year of Mercy to begin on December 8, 2015 and conclude on November 20, 2016. He is calling the whole Church throughout the world to embrace mercy and compassion as its mission. He challenges us in this way:

“We need constantly to contemplate the mystery of mercy. It is a wellspring of joy, serenity, and peace. … God comes to meet us through Mercy. It is the fundamental law that dwells in the heart of every person who looks sincerely into the eyes of his brothers and sisters on the path of life. Mercy: the bridge that connects God and man, opening our hearts to the hope of being loved forever despite our sinfulness.” (p. 1, Misericordiae Vultus)

The second messenger and champion of mercy and compassion is Fethullah Gulen. His spiritual and mystical texts are filled with teachings about mercy, love, and compassion. One of my favorites is where he uses examples from nature to describe the meaning of mercy and compassion.

“Now look at the bee that visits thousands of flowers and the silkworm that confines itself to its cocoon. How many hardships they endure to join in this symphony of compassion! How can we not acknowledge what these self-sacrificial creatures suffer in order to feed us honey and clothe us with silk? Have you considered what a hero of compassion the chicken is when she sacrifices herself to save her young from a fox? Or the wolf that offers the food she finds to her young, forgetting her own hunger?

“In nature everything bears witness to compassion and radiates compassion. The universe performed a symphony of compassion: Different voices and tunes merge in rhythm so perfectly that only an all-encompassing mercy could be directing this mysterious music” (A Fethullah Gulen Reader, pp. 87-88).

Pope Francis and Fethullah Gulen are living the radical message of compassion and bringing music into our world. They are showing us by word and example the way of creating a culture of mercy. May we follow their example and join the Symphony of Compassion!