“…This is a reminder for those who remember.” (Surah Hud 114)

In his last encounter with the youth, he watched as they left and said, “I lived my whole life for them, never for myself…” These words, perhaps the simplest summary of his life, offer a glimpse into the vastness of his heart. As he lived, so he walked toward the horizon of his soul. He lived for others and urged them to live for others, setting an example of boundless compassion.

In his youth, he was the first abi, a teacher who cherished his students, connecting with them in a way beyond words—a language rooted in his very state of being. He would arrive at their homes at the hour of tahajjud (the nightly prayer), quietly rolling up his sleeves to clean if he found their homes untidy. Teaching eight hours each day, he spent his evenings in gatherings, and even later, he welcomed students to his modest shelter, a guiding compass for their hearts. His presence was so gentle that the students, unaware of his own need for rest, would stay with him through the night. He, too, never asked for rest, never turned them away, always ready to listen and offer counsel.

One wonders: When did he sleep? When did he eat? When did he ever take time for himself, as so many do in our modern age—seeking “me time” to indulge personal desires without higher purpose? His life was a tapestry of dedication—a soldier in waiting, never a moment sacrificed to pursuits that served only the self. He chose not to focus on his own interests or leisure, but rather lived always ready and wholly devoted to serving God through Hizmet. Though I never had the chance to live close to him, and if we add up our meetings, they would not amount to a single day, I always feel his presence in my life through his legacy. I know this truth as surely as if I had witnessed it all. For only a life so intricately woven with purpose could give rise to the Hizmet Movement—thousands of students, hundreds of thousands of records, over eighty books, and countless volunteers inspired to serve.

He did not merely preach; he embodied his teachings. His life was an outpouring of light that spilled from pulpits into hearts. This light bore the essence of countless nights filled with tears and yearning, countless days of tireless action, and endless joy in worship woven like fine threads into each moment.

How does a heart become entirely consumed with divine longing? What is it to live as an insan-ı kâmil (a perfected human being)? In him, we saw a life that overflowed with the wine of divine love—a heart ignited with an intense desire to meet God, a love for the Prophet that blazed brightly. From his fervor, he cast embers into our hearts; in the flame of his spirit, we found our purpose.

With his passing, a sun has set on our earthly days, and our hearts, too, have been severed from the ties of this world. This is not just a longing for his presence but a nameless void, a space that aches with a sense of loss. Yet, a part of us finds peace in knowing his passing from this world was his şeb-i arus, his reunion with the Beloved.

And now—we are no longer who we once were. What could be more transformative for a Hizmet devotee than this profound loss? What else could cultivate in our hearts a detachment from the world’s fleeting charms, urging us toward a purpose beyond worldly allure? This break within us must yield a rose garden, blooming in his honor. We cannot remain unchanged; we must strive harder, run faster, as he would have wanted.

The weight he carried alone now rests on our shoulders; his mantle passed to us. Each act of service is our tribute, our humble offering to his legacy. This burden we bear, counting the days until we, too, might meet him again. We, like soldiers, ask, “When will we be discharged?”

The nightingale has flown from the cage of the body. And would he not, once free, alight upon the wings of his lover’s heart? With delicate wings, he soars, spreading fragrance across the heavens.

He is with us still, closer now, unfettered by the limitations of flesh. As close as a greeting, he lives on in our hearts and in each act of service we perform. May love be with you always, Hocaefendim, my dear teacher.

Whatever the conditions may be, a believer should not go out of the frame of good manners, civility, and decency, for others ascribe all of their actions to faith. Thus, even in the face of the most grave situations or unyielding cases, believers should not swerve from their direction. Examining the life of the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, we see that he never changed his manners, even at times when he was challenged by Abu Jahl, the man who did all possible evil to oppose the Prophet.

There is occasionally a bitter tone in some of the Qur’anic passages as far as unbelief and unbelievers are concerned. However, we should clarify here that this harsh style is for devious thoughts and ideas, not for individuals. The Qur’anic message does not position any individual as an opponent just because of who they are. It is profane thoughts and views of denial – which are not unique to certain individuals but which have always existed and will continue to exist – that the Qur’an deals with rather harshly. This is a lesson believers should learn from the Qur’an in their engagement with others.

This is an attitude to be adopted not among people only, but among states, too. Let us reify the concept by an example from the Qur’an. God’s message to Moses, peace be upon him, concerning his encounter with the Pharaoh was, “but speak to him with gentle words, so that he might reflect and be mindful or feel some awe (of me, and behave with humility)” (Ta Ha 20:44). Speaking with gentle words and softly, even if it is the Pharaoh you are going to deal with – the Pharaoh who afflicted you and your nation with all possible oppression and violence. Another remarkable point here is that the Qur’an binds reflection and God-consciousness to “gentle words.” By a reverse conceptualization, we could induce the meaning that “in case you advance towards him in virulence, he shall neither reflect nor stand in awe.” So, benignity and tolerance are indispensable articles to communicate a message, whoever the addressee is.

That is, a believer always has to stand in the climate of a gentle attitude, gentle state, gentle heart, gentle conscience, and gentle words, so that they can serve others with true guidance. Otherwise, all the states and attitudes of those who have not been softened, melted, and molded in this Prophetic spirit will be artificial and theatrical. Such insincere people may smile for a while, but they will expose their teeth and present their genuine nature when their tails are stepped upon. Indeed, for how long could a firefly deceive astronomers that it is a star?

In the light of these criteria, it is also possible to read the descent of the Messiah on earth in the latter times with a message of being “without a hand to those who beat you, without a speech to those who curse you, and no hearts for those who break hearts,” even if some may consider this out of balance.

The example of Bediuzzaman, the sufferer of the age, is unique. Even towards those who had been his most merciless, inhumane torturers he managed to communicate the truths of faith and was never offended. Indeed, have believers not exerted every single effort to shine the inspirations of their souls to those who dug ditches and pushed them in?¹

Communicating with someone, or spreading a message, is impossible by raving or clamoring, violence or anger. Maybe violence was once a method or tool; but time has invalidated it. Today, the principle of persuasion is, and will be, dominant ever after. Today’s devotees of love should reach the level framed above, and should make abundant practices about that.

As as pointed out above, in the latter times, the Messiah will surely descend on earth in order to fulfill that significant mission, even, say, if he is in the remotest corner of the Hereafter. But this descent is dependent upon the meaning and spirit within your representative, collective body. Yes, he will descend to be the mold for that meaning. If that spirit is missing, I think, his corporeal descent will not mean anything. To conclude, we should know that a resurrection in the latter times will be realized by the reviving breaths of the heroes of love who represent gentle states, gentle attitudes, gentle hearts, and gentle words.

1- See 85:4 in the Qur’an for the short passage on tyrants who dug ditches of fire and killed believers.