“Home.” It’s a word that is thrown so lightly around in our daily conversations yet always carries weight regardless of the circumstance. It’ll be the end of my text message to my mother letting her know that we have dinner ready. It’ll be at the beginning of my groans on the days when work has kept my eyes heavy in the morning. It’ll swish around in my father’s mouth when he talks about a home I’ve only known through blazed childhood memories and the home he can never seem to forget. To me, home could be the library I lived across the street from growing up in Ellicott City, where I spent hours in the cubby with the window looking over the budding garden and reading Junie B. Jones. I had only realized this visiting for the first time a decade later and tracing everything with my fingers all over again, seeing little kids with piles of books similar to mine a decade ago. It’s complicated when the first home means something different for everyone in an immediate family. It’s a small edge of the feats we decided to take on immigrating to America from Turkey before I had gained consciousness of myself or anything around me, and when both my parents only kept small flip phones.

We started making our new home, in a place with rent that costed a mere 250 dollars and groceries from food stamps. As far as my memory goes back, my parents have constantly been learning and teaching. I can remember students reading red books stamped with gold shiny letters intently lined up on our couches, later myself learning the great works of Said Nursi. I remember endless debates that were heftier than the accumulating heap of laughing sunflower seed shells on the coffee table. Our unfortunately pale-colored couches framed exquisite masterpieces from the artistry of spilling cold tea. The soggy tea leaves became weathered with contemplation and companionship. Sohbets [1] that charted unimaginable webs of thought with dew drops of loving jokes laced in between. I could’ve sworn my mother’s brilliance was fueled half by black tea that perhaps ran slightly over brewed, and the other half by the love she felt for her sister on the other end of the table.

After long nights of banter, my mother taught Pre-Algebra to a classroom of kids with most of them dawning ankle monitors under their sweatpants. They called home the part of Baltimore that was blockaded from the rest of the world, their struggles were hard to even discuss amongst my parents. She hugged those bright students so dearly when the world had shunned them in the corners of redlined [2] Cherry Hill. In spite of these burdens, I witnessed people immensely close to their souls and their faith. One of her student’s mother tightly grasped her hand in prayer. I dawdled in conversation and laughs in the laps of students who lost family members to gang violence yet had pure reciprocation for a stranger. Unconditional reciprocation can be difficult to find and demands truly compassionate and amiable character, especially in the hyper-individualized atmosphere we find ourselves in today. We have much to learn from each other in tactical knowledge and what we can foster in our souls. 

Gradually, I began learning as well. I mapped out my lines in Geometry the way I imagine my mother has done in the classroom, how I danced between the lines! My learning was almost constant from Geometry class to reading endless books after school to Saturday school. I spent the mornings of my Saturday’s learning about religion, how Abu Bakr (may God be pleased with him) protected the Prophet (peace be upon him) from snakes in the Cave of Thawr. I was in the car ride home from Saturday school when our conception of home had changed permanently and suddenly. The way in which under later realization was ultimately inevitable but at the time felt world bending.

In the backseat of our car, I was under the fog of the summer heat when I heard “BREAKING: Soldiers block off Istanbul bridges. Turkish military attempting coup.” which somehow bubbled through my post-schooling fatigue. What followed only felt like a blur and slowly boiled up to our new understanding of our “home country,” always in my introduction to strangers when they ask where I am from. Turkey is only lived through two summers growing up yet is stitched between my whole American experience. Only a myth that I have longed for and remember in hazy fragments of my young eyes. It is not a place I know by any means no matter how much I stacked books of Turkish history from the library on my bedroom floor or trace my village on Google maps. Somehow this home mapped out every facet of my experience. I spent college years on and off Twitter watching the fate of my country twist and turn. Street interviews of people calling us terrorists and myself using google translate to fully understand their sentiments. Between studies of Sociology and the American Civil Rights movement, I meticulously translated court documents. I became an interpreter in conferences with lawyers for young people who never imagined becoming a refugee. My lifelong friends are people who may never see their parents again but taught me all the new lingo and fixed my pronunciation. They memorialized their home in snapshots showing me the lives that they left behind. I found myself surrounded by people who knew my home country better than I ever could have, and others who were classmates that didn’t even know what language my home country housed, and yet still felt desire to mock my identity. I’ve spent my youth proving I’m not a terrorist to them and my third grade English teacher and half of my own people.

The corruption festering in my home country by my own people is what deeply wounded many of us the most. Nevertheless, we built our own havens, homes to countless brothers and sisters. We held our sisters who broke down over relatives rotting in jail cells in the same buildings we learned how to place our tongue in the right ways for reading Qur’an. Our ribs became tight with laughter in late hours after tarawih in the same place we held bake sales to send help back to our country. The buildings change, we are told to not ever go back to grandma’s village over the phone, and we go to new places to continue our toil. I felt frustration when classmates talked so dearly of their grandmother’s house realizing they are not clouded with a mystical dream when trying to reminisce of the same.

Yet I began to let go of this subtly hummed yearning that has plagued me and accept love where it finds itself in different stemmed and split paths. This is only through realizing people as close as your neighbors are piecing together these branches of pathways over years of displacement from family and attempting to map out belonging. We hold each other in the pain of this journey, eventually realizing we have found it within each other. Belief houses many pillars of love and perhaps we need to be reminded that the souls we connect ourselves with transcend anything tangible such as land, or even time. Surely, land is critical. The dilemma of which land is mine has burdened me for years. Those students in Baltimore have their lives altered immensely due to their redlined land. Generations are loved for centuries over land. Blood is tragically spilled over land. Standing for your land can mean seeking justice for your people which is absolutely necessary. In circumstances of injustice, know that you are never alone. You might be forced to carry your home in your blood and your heart. Love may not be able to reach us in our “home country” and home may not be hammered shut there.

For those of us who never lived in the same place for longer than two years. For those us of who will never know our home country more than the legends and history we read in books. For those of us who have been called slurs by people in the melting pot you were born in: Home is in you and me. Home is tucked under the heaps of sunflower seed shells as they are smiling because they were breathed into conversations of love. Home is in the undevoted passion of learning and teaching and repeating under unimaginable circumstances. Home is my sister fixing my hijab before prayer. Home is my mother gardening in the way her mother taught her. Home is in the salam from the person you haven’t seen in years but know you are always welcome in their embrace. Home is the teacher that made you feel seen when classmates mocked who you were. Home is in the houses of people who have their whole family trapped in Turkey but remind you their door is always open. No matter how much they tried to strip us from our home, or no matter how much they have deformed our homes into a succumbing cavity, our glaring feat is that we have found it within each other. So, they will curse us and the buildings and those we cherish, and we will love beyond it all.

Notes

• Sohbet in Turkish (originally sohbah in Arabic) means companionship, informal conversations mainly on matters of belief and religion.
• Redlining is known as the structural restriction of resources and services from a community in a discriminatory manner, and has historically heavily impacted predominantly lower income and African-American communities in the United States.

In Xanadu: A Quest, William Dalrymple’s first book, is a work that amassed critical acclaim from the likes of Sir Alex Guinness (“The delightful, and funny, surprise mystery tour of the year”), and the doyen of modern travel literature Patrick Leigh Fermor (“…a most gifted book touched by the spirits of Kinglake, Robert Byron and Evelyn Waugh”), which must have made the twenty-two-year-old author’s head spin. It is by turns a very funny book. He changed his female traveling companion halfway but still managed to produce a work loaded with history and knowledge acquired when the author set off in the footsteps of Marco Polo from Jerusalem to the fabled city court of Kubla Khan in China. But those were early days and William Dalrymple has now become the chronicler of all things pertaining to the subcontinent of India, with doorstopper books to match. His Nine Lives is a personal favorite and amounts to research beyond the call of duty in which the writer sets off in search of the sacred in modern India. Again, marvelous writing as the author attaches himself to some of the adventurers within the life of the soul who have devoted their lives to extremes.

Music

After being made aware of World Music, we have been given a novel approach to Orientalism   through what has been termed “fusion.” Jan Garbarek is a Norwegian jazz musician who has felt an attraction to the music of the Orient. He is a saxophonist of great ability, an ability that that has enabled him to transcend common musical performance for he is able to assimilate the themes and rhythms of the East without seemingly imposing the conventions of the West. Any reader wishing to experience Garbarek’s music is advised to purchase the CD Madar, which has been released on the excellent German ECM label. Given that all musical appreciation is subjective, your correspondent suggests that this is currently the most exciting music on the planet. Grabarek plays tenor- and soprano saxophones on this recording, with Anouar Brahem from Tunis on the lute-like oud, supported admirably by the scintillating tabla of Ustad Shaukat Hussein from India. It is perfectly apparent that despite pessimistic and obviously conflicting academic views, East will meet West as sure as there exists any attraction between the sexes, and above all between musicians. Which medium could bring it about better than music, for some the highest of the arts?

For the general record-purchasing public the music of Asia more or less began with George Harrison who learned to play the sitar (“I started 15 years too late,” he said), and sang My Sweet Lord, his emotionally charged yearn for transcendence, with a brief intro on the instrument that beguiled everyone. The book that documents, in a fascinating way, all of the Asian music that revolutionized and widened the West’s appreciation of it is The Dawn of Indian Music in the West by Peter Lavezzoli, with an introduction by the master, Ravi Shankar. The author, himself a musician, tells of the violin virtuoso Yehudi Menuhin’s impassioned support of Indian classical music as early as 1955. Lavezzoli’s relentless research is a magnificent tribute and includes some fascinating and extensive in-depth interviews with classical, jazz and rock musicians who had willingly succumbed to the art of the raga. The interviews reveal that the rock musicians of the 1950s and ’60s were endowed with sensibilities that went beyond the norm and showed that they were not always interested in musical excitement based on a series of riffs and little else. David Crosby, who went on be a part of the successful Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young band, and Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, were both intelligent men who were at home with John Coltrane’s jazz and were also intrigued with the intricacies of Indian classical music. The sarod drone, the sitar’s first notes – like tin-foil blossoms cascading down – tinkles seductively to your ears. Then comes the pervasive backwash of delicate, reverberating sound the way an artist gives the foundation to a picture, followed by the pulsating ever-present sheets of sound. John Coltrane would have felt perfectly at home. The tabla player waits, resisting any urge to intrude until, there it is, the sudden opening, the sudden right moment, and with a decisive whack he was a part of it all. His insistent accents, punctuations, and singing taps made everything perfect. The sarod, the sitar and the tabla become instrumental friends. They literally hit a groove.

Lavezzoli’s book is a kaleidoscopic, dense appraisal for anyone with any interest in music of what can only be termed spiritual inspiration. This has to be the definitive work.

The Orientalists

Kristian Davies has produced a book of unsurpassed beauty. The Orientalists – Western Artists in Arabia, The Sahara, Persia & India is utterly irresistible. Published in 2005 and sold at an unbelievably reasonable $70, one will now need to consider spending around $200 for the cheapest on the market, then think in terms of $2,000 for a pristine copy. For anyone wishing to own great books, the outlay is worth it. There are 300 pages of text, and color plates in which to drench your eyes. We are not excused the debate around the theme that has raged for a while.

Orientalism has become the catchword for all that could be seen as negative. It is again, addressed here, that one finds the debate about blame apportioned to the West in respect of attitudes against all that is by definition “other.” On the one hand Mr. Davies rightly defends his position by presenting great works of art that are reason enough in themselves to make pointless all intellectual contention. One sides with Mr. Davies because – what the heck – who gives two figs for politics when one is confronted with such unsurpassed beauty? To be fair, however, one also reads something rather damning in The Brown Sahib (revisited) by Varindra Tarzie Vittachi in which he quotes from Lord Macaulay in 1835: “We must at present do our best to form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern, a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and in intellect.” The West has looked down on the East, but then humans apparently need something or someone to look down on for reasons best known to their own inner worlds. The argument that an excess of Oriental color and physical voluptuousness is not without reason, however, and one can be startled by what appears to be an exaggeration of physical prowess or physical beauty. Then something otherwise commonplace is seen. The tiles portrayed, quite rightly, in many Oriental pictures are here at a level of gorgeousness beyond comparison. The carpets are sublime, and the camels magnificently haughty. Kristian Davies has given us a dream made apparent with additional essays on Arthur Rimbaud, Jean-Louis Burckhardt, Sir Richard F. Burton, Jean-Léon Gérôme, JamesTissot and Jane Digby el-Mezrab. The color plates, which dazzle and delight are by such painters as Gustav Bauernfeind, and the American James Fairman, together with the British painter David Roberts, Eugène Delacroix, and many, many more.

In the “footnotes of Ibn Battuta”

Tim Mackintosh-Smith gives us Travels with a Tangerine: A Journey in the Footnotes of Ibn Battutah. The title may suggest a less than adept juggler, but a Tangerine meant here is a person from Tangiers. Mr. M-S (he abbreviates his hero throughout to IB) has a way with words and once underway is hardly stoppable when his pen doth riotous flow. His knowledge of all things Oriental will astonish, he is mind-bogglingly informed about God and the world and, of course, Ibn Battuta. Book two within his IB trilogy is The Hall of a Thousand Pillars, and it is here that M-S, faithfully follows IB’s journeys in India, which started in 1332. Book three is Landfalls: On the Edge of Islam from Zanzibar to the Alhambra. There is a free-for-all exposition of IB’s Islamic acquaintances and, again, M-S shows the depth of his own reading and research on the ground (try foot-slogging around India and you will know what that means). This is premier-league travel writing, which also makes Tim Mackintosh-Smith an Orientalist of note.

Istanbul

There have been many books written about the city of Constantine, but probably the most famous in modern times is Strolling Through Istanbul by Hilary Sumner-Boyd and John Freely. These two American expatriate academics produced a book, first published in 1972, that the Times of London reviewed as “the best travel guide to Istanbul.” This book is exhaustive in detail and is meant for people who will be obliged to walk the walk and have little breath remaining to talk. Chapter for chapter, day by day, each city landmark is given an itinerary, with maps, that will appeal to visitors who will definitely wish to go beyond the Grand Bazaar (your correspondent remembers it before the Coca-Cola machines), although it is also described, of course. The Haghia Sophia is given elucidation, as is Topkapi, and an endless series of museums, monuments, palaces, bazaars, markets, mosques, streets and alleys, schools of religion and, quite obviously, the ubiquitous public baths. History is writ large and architecture larger still. One of the wonders is the Şehzade mosque, also known as the Prince’s Palace, which was created by Süleyman the Magnificent to commemorate his son who died at the age of only 22. Determination and well-worn-in shoes are called for because the book urges one to go forth and inspect a further Süleyman edifice, the Süleymaniye mosque complex, considered by the authors to be the most important Ottoman building in Istanbul. The book continues to be a fascinating read and there is little, if anything, of the history of the city that has been left out. This book is highly recommended as a proper guide for visitors with both physical and intellectual stamina that will probably not inform one of a good restaurant, but will get you deeply immersed in the history of one of the world’s most fascinating cities.

Published in 2016 by the American University in Cairo Press, and edited by the Turkish novelist and essayist Kaya Genç, An Istanbul Anthology – Travel Writing through the Centuries comprises a selection of vignettes by famous men and women of letters. Mark Twain remains true to character with his sardonic wit, while André Gide and Gustav Flaubert are dismissive to an extreme. Ernest Hemingway is positively lyrical (“…the Golden Horn with its minarets rising out of it slim and clean towards the sun…”), and also included are brief extracts from the writings of Hans Christian Anderson, Herman Melville, and many more. Lady Hester Stanhope tells of her experiences in the Cağaloğlu hamam, after which she awakens hungry and refreshed. Gérard de Nerval describes a Dervish lodge at Pera. Théophile Gautier offers a knowledgeable introduction to Ramadan in the city. Twenty-four writers are here, some with more than one piece included. This delightful little book contains a number of beautiful illustrations of seemingly antique vintage.

Jerusalem

One of my favorite books is by the now demised but still celebrated author, Amos Oz. In his revealing In the Land of Israel the writer undertook a tour of the Holy Land in the 1980s to interview Jews and Arabs of all kinds. This amounts to worldly wisdom strictly according to the status quo. Amos Oz, however, was a peacenik and he included an interview with an elderly person who was quoted as saying, “This land belongs to nobody but God, when both the Arabs and the Israelis realize that there will be peace.” What is most evident is the view from the ground, of the ordinary people of all political or religious persuasions. We read of the internal worlds of those inhabiting a land in conflict. Israel exists in a state of cause and effect. In an interview that your correspondent had with the now demised Teddy Kollek, the mayor of Jerusalem for 28 years, he said, “I don’t think Jerusalem is worth the loss of a single life.” Amos Oz’s interviews end for the most part in expressions of bitter resolve or a sheer sense of helplessness. Above all else this book is as good as it gets when one wishes to become acquainted with the turmoil that is prevalent in the land of Israel. The writing is superb, pithy, factual, and embarrassingly honest.

And so to bed, and what better read than The Middle East Bedside Book to help one end the day with a contented smile or two. Edited by Tahir Shah, we find a selection of proverbs by Abdesalam Tunisi, who suggests that “too many captains sink the ship,” which obviously rings a culinary bell. There are extracts from The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan (sic) as well as A Thousand and One Nights. Among The Saying from the Prophet Mohammed is one example that will give pause for thought at the end of Ramadan: “How many who fast who know nothing of fasting except its thirst, and how many pray who know nothing of prayer but its sleeplessness.” Quite understandably Tahir has included some of the writings by his famous father, Idries Shah, who contributes a bantering essay about British expats in Bahrain. The writer on all things pertaining to Sufism actually offers less spiritual wisdom but all the more of his Travel Notes, which can be fully enjoyed in his book Destination Mecca. There are stories galore, each under their own title, such as Chivalry and Teachers, Customs and Social Habits, Rituals and Human Nature, Eating Customs among the Turks and Arabs (including several recipes), Wisdom and Honor, most of which are taken from early manuscripts. Under “behavior” we read from Ibn Amru: the Prophet said “The most beloved of mine among you is whoever has the best manners.” Suffice it to say, this book is a gem.

Addendum

A force to be reckoned with is Alfred Guillaume’s The Life of Muhammad – a translation of Ibn Ishaq’s Sirat Rasul Allah. First published in Pakistan by the Oxford University Press in 1955, and now available in an edition of 1983, Guillaume’s work amounts to more than 800 pages of small print, which covers just about every aspect of the Prophet’s life. This work amounts to detail to the ultimate degree and should be on any serious Muslim’s bookshelf.

• The Orientalists – Part 1

The human condition is one with many challenges and blessings, concurrent and successive. To believers, both hardship and abundance are a matter of perspective, at least in most occasions; everything we face is a test on the path to our perfection. Poverty and wealth are two of these tests – while the former comes in the guise of hardship and deficiency, the latter is cloaked in material abundance and outward comfort.

Wealth does not guarantee peace in one’s heart, in this life or in the hereafter, for it usually comes with a heavy bill – compromising one’s time and health, responsibilities to family and the larger community, a self-struggle between fully claiming the wealth or attributing it to God’s grace, and the question of how to best use this abundance.

Poverty, on the other hand, is not an easier challenge, as one is required to keep his or her patience in the face of hunger and lack of sufficient means for a life of self-sustainable dignity. Despite these difficulties, however, poverty comes with much less to be accountable for.

The story goes that one day, the famous Sultan Harun Rashid asked Bahl al-Dana, a Sufi mystic of his time, what would happen on the Day of Judgment. Bahl told him to order his servants to set a metal sheet with fire under it. After it became really hot, Bahl jumped on it barefoot and said, “I ate cheese and bread, wore a robe and underwear,” and then immediately jumped off.

“Now, it’s your turn,” he told the Sultan, who then had already realized that wealth in this world was quite a responsibility to answer for in the hereafter.

This conference aims to explore what the three Abrahamic religions have to teach us with regard to this human condition from a wide spectrum of themes, including philanthropy, globalization, gender, business, ethics, and mysticism. The Fountain is proud to be a contributor to this event, which we wholeheartedly believe reflects the worldview we strive to emphasize in our pages: a meaningful understanding of this life drawing on faith and reason.

We are grateful to Peace Islands Institute for making The Fountain a part of this event. We wish you an enjoyable stay in Istanbul and a successful conference.

Hakan Yeşilova
Editor
The Fountain

The Fountain organized a three-day conference in Istanbul featuring scholars and academics from diverse disciplines to convene and discuss some philosophical themes The Fountain covers. Aspiring to be a platform for peaceful exchange of ideas, invigorating discussions on the big questions of life, and to generate more of those questions, The Fountain invited 12 international speakers and a dozen intellectuals from within Turkey to participate in this conference. The Fountain, now distributed and read worldwide, has its origins in Turkey which started as an offshoot of global initiatives by renowned Turkish scholar Fethullah Gülen and the Hizmet Movement that grew out of his inspiring ideas.

The themes that were covered in this conference were as follows:

• Fethullah Gülen and The Fountain Worldview
• Cross-cultural Dialogue, Media, Pluralism, Spirituality
• Scientific Thought, Faith, and Philosophy

Sarahsi’s commentary on this incident is quite thoughtful: “The judge must pay extreme attention to this matter because of the following saying of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him: ‘The noble one should not be hopeful for your favor, nor should the weaker despair of your unfair treatment.’ If the noble one is positioned in the front, he or she may raise hopes for the judge’s favoring them, which will dishearten the weaker who will be concerned of a possible injustice incurred on them.” (Sarahsi 1983, 61)

Let us consider this incident. An ordinary citizen, who happens to be a Christian, complains and files a case against the Muslim President of the country without any concern of the consequences. The Chief Justice of the fantastic Abbasid Empire is Imam Abu Yusuf, the great jurist of the Hanafi school of thought, second only to Imam Azam. He hears both parties without being able to bring them to the same level of seating, for he is too shy to ask the Caliph to rise up from where he is and stand next to the plaintiff. This would normally be perceived as a minor, even insignificant lapse; but the judge never forgets this for his entire life, and considers it his most grievous error. In fact, it so grieves him, it is the one lapse he asks God to forgive him for. On the other hand, Sarahsi’s comment is also worth analysis, as he does not deem this incident an insignificant one, but takes a very meticulous approach when he says, “The judge must pay extreme attention to this matter.” We should also keep in mind that this incident is not narrated in a fictional work of stories or legends, but in one of the fundamental sources of Hanafi jurisprudence, and this makes the incident even more significant and makes it sufficient to reflect, singlehandedly, Islam’s very accommodating and tolerant policy towards non-Muslims.

Forbearance, or tolerance, is kindheartedness without expecting anything in return, and it is more comprehensive than a mere word or slogan in Islamic terminology. It is an injunction in the religion, as it is firmly established by Divine revelation and explained by the Prophet. This duty upon believers has taken a material form in the Age of Happiness, during the reign of the Rightly Guided Caliphs, and throughout fourteen centuries of Islamic civilization. It is a product of the eternal and universal faith of Islam.

The Qur’an raised the columns of forbearance upon the Islamic foundations of life, universe, and mankind. Oneness is an attribute to God, and God alone; whereas all of creation is a manifestation of multiplicity, diversity, and differences. The basis of Islamic tolerance is that justice is obligatory. The Qur’anic description of God is “the Lord of the worlds,” the Lord of all mankind (Fatiha 1:1). As a result of this rationale, Islam embraces all the heritages of prophethood sent to all nations.

The Qur’an confirms the truthful acts of those who followed past prophets, corrects their faults or introduces new commandments (Maidah 5:48; Al Imran 3:3-4; A’raf 7:157-158).

Tolerant and just conduct towards non-Muslims was not only observed in the early days of Islam, but also in the following centuries. The Ottomans, from their onset in the late thirteenth century, particularly stand out for their political character. They prioritized avoiding internal conflicts with other principalities in Asia minor, and focused more on expanding westward to annex Byzantine towns. Their engagements with the non-Muslim people of these towns were never solely based on warfare and military power; instead, they cultivated relations based on fair treatment and tolerance. This diplomacy of fairness and forbearance paved the way for Orhan Bey (d. 1362) to have the gates of Bursa opened to him in peace in 1326 (Neşri 1983, 67; Akgündüz 1999, 430; Ihsanoğlu 1999, 422).

There is an overwhelming consensus among historians that the Ottomans were able to expand their territories in Asia Minor and the Balkans not only through military means but also through many social and ethical factors. Otherwise it is impossible to hold so many different ethnicities, with different faiths and languages, united (Eryılmaz 1990, 24). Sultan Mehmed II’s declaration on non-Muslims following the conquest of Istanbul is exemplary in terms of religious liberties, as he recognized the people’s freedom to worship in their own tradition; to conduct ceremonies as they did before; to travel freely; that their properties, shops, groves, farms, families, servants, and slaves were inviolable; that there was going to be no forced conversion to Islam; that their boys would not be conscripted; that they could choose their own community leaders; and that they would not be forced to work without compensation (Akgündüz 1999, 430; Ihsanoğlu 1999, 422-3).

The Ottoman policy on non-Muslims was mostly inspired from a judgment derived from a saying of the Prophet: “They (non-Muslims) have the same rights as we Muslims do; they are liable to the same duties as we Muslims are” (lahum ma lana wa alayhim ma alayna).

These rights and liberties the Ottomans recognized for the non-Muslim community become even more meaningful when compared with the situation in Europe during the same period of history. Bernard Lewis was visiting Turkey in the 1990s. In an interview for TRT (Turkish national network), the reporter asked him to comment on why, in the sixteenth through nineteenth centuries, there is almost no record of Turkish travelers in Europe, whereas there were quite a number of European travelers who travelled across the Ottoman territories. I am summarizing Lewis’ answer as follows: “In those centuries there was no obstacle for Europeans to travel in the Ottoman land, for the Ottoman government was a state of rule and law. Europeans could visit the country on a visa (musta’man), travel, and follow up on their business freely. The travelers were of different religions, but they could freely gather with their co-believers or the locals who spoke their own language and hold services in their places of worship. They did not feel homesick or alienated. On the other hand, however, a Muslim could no way dare to visit a European country in those centuries without forsaking his life. Fanaticism was at its peak in Europe.”

The Ottomans had almost no competition in championing the freedom of religious belief and practice as a cornerstone of social order. The Ottomans also had non-Muslim groups represented in the parliament as ministers and at other senior levels; there were sometimes almost as many as fifty non-Muslim members of parliament, especially in the nineteenth century.

A more recent event was when Assyrian Christians, in the city of Mardin, had to confront the Ottoman state in 1915. Following the internal conflicts between Muslims and Armenians during World War I, in which the Tashnak and Hinchak groups of Armenians massacred Turkish villages, the Union and Progress government of the Ottoman state passed a decision to send all Armenian citizens – with the exception of those residing in Istanbul – into exile. Despite the fact that Assyrian Christians were not involved in any of those incidents, state officers in Mardin wanted to send them into exile too, simply because they were also Christians. In the chaotic environment of war, murder and violence followed this decision, and Assyrians from Midyat armed themselves and gathered in the village of Aynverd (Gulgozu). They did not obey calls to concede their weapons, for they did not trust the state’s army. Shaikh Fethullah Hamidi, of the Mardin region, announced a religious ruling that it would not be lawful according to Islam to harm Assyrians, and that their lives, properties, and honor were inviolable. He further communicated with state officers and, after three months of persistent efforts, secured a warrant of safety for the Assyrians. Assyrians never forgot his selfless stance and hard work, and as a sign of appreciation, they hang his picture next to their patriarch in the Mardin Deyruzzaferan Patriarchate.

Inspired by these ideas, Fethullah Gülen, one of Time Magazine’s “100 Most Influential People in 2013,” and the Hizmet Movement, which has developed around this thought and guidance, are trying to reflect the same spirit of dialogue among different nations, religions, and cultures around the world. Born out of Turkey, this movement is now active in around 140 countries. Their outreach extends to all walks of life, regardless of differences, and their achievements raise our hopes that the world can once more experience a time of tolerance and coexistence, at least to the same degree, if not higher, as in the historical examples described in this article.

Dr. Yildirim is a professor of Qur’anic exegesis in the School of Divinity, Fatih University, Istanbul.

References

• Akgündüz, Ahmet, Said Öztürk. 1999. Bilinmeyen Osmanlı, Istanbul: Osmanlı Araştırmaları Vakfı Yayınları.
• Eryılmaz, Bilal. 1990. Osmanlı Devletinde Gayrimüslim Tebaanın Yönetimi, Istanbul: Risale Yayınları.
• Gibbons, Herbert Adams. 1998. Osmanlı imparatorluğunun Kuruluşu, Translated by R. Hulusi (Özdem), Istanbul: 21.Yüzyıl Yay.
• Hamidi, Muhammed Sadık. 2002. Mardini Es-Seyyid Eş-Şeyh Hamid Evlad ve Torunları, Istanbul,.
• Ihsanoğlu, Ekmeleddin. 1999. Osmanlı Devleti Tarihi I-II, Istanbul: Zaman Gazetesi Yayınları.
• Serahsî, Şemsu’l-eimme. 1983. el-Mebsut, Istanbul: Çağrı Yayınevi.

September 21, 2012, Friday – Four Seasons Hotel, Beşiktaş, Istanbul

A year ago, Norway would be listed among the few top countries unlikely for violence in the world; until July 22, 2011, when Anders Breivik bombed the government buildings and killed 77 people and injured at least 150, all of them his fellow citizens. Breivik said he committed these attacks on the grounds of saving Europe from immigrant Muslims.

This act of violence that was “worst-of-the-worst” marked a threshold for a new era in which the entire world has painfully grasped the fact that no country and nation is immune from terrorism. Norway, however, was different in responding to it; immediately after these attacks Norwegian officials visited Muslim groups and mosques and emphasized their call for an even more inclusive democracy and human dignity.

This panel aims not to delve into the investigation of the massacre but to commemorate this spirit of inclusiveness as depicted by Norwegian officials. We aim to bring to attention in this example the universal values of human dignity, reconciliation, understanding, role of democracy and faith for global peace. Turkey is an interesting setting for this panel per a variety of opportunities and challenges in terms of ongoing terrorism in this country for several decades, Turkey’s EU accession process as a growing democracy in the region, and also as a country where religion and secularism seem to have developed a unique form of coexistence.

Everywhere I look, I see citizens polluting, communities mistreating and nations exploiting the earth.

I watch them as they misuse and abuse this sacred place, as if it was theirs.

What they fail to remember is that this earth is the same earth the first man and woman called home. It is the same earth countless prophets, saints, and scholars called home. It is the same earth my Ottoman ancestors called home. It is the same earth my country’s natives, the Aboriginal people, called home.

But I could almost see this earth diminish before my eyes. My heart aches with uncertainty of what lies ahead.

What have we left to offer the future generations? What have we done? What have we become?

Divine cleanliness

Everything God created in this world and beyond has perfect order and balance, for He is the Most Powerful and All Wise. So it cannot be He who is responsible for the world’s current state of affairs.

This earth is like a hotel, a guesthouse which is continually filled and emptied by the living and dead. Despite this constant entry and exit, this guesthouse remains totally pure and clean. There is nothing unnecessary, nothing exists without having any benefit or purpose, and not a random piece is put out of place.

If it was not for this remarkable cleaning, in a short amount of time, thousands of animal and plant species would have been suffocated on the face of the earth.

God’s orderliness is everywhere the eye reaches.

Carnivorous animal species clean the seas by gathering up the corpses of other sea-creatures that die every day by the millions, preventing the sea from becoming polluted.

Ants collect the corpses of tiny creatures and small particles and fragments of bounty, preserving them from waste and uselessness.

Flies clean away poisonous substances and microbes which breed diseases that are invisible to the naked human eye, thus preventing the spread of many contagious diseases.

His command is obeyed everywhere by everything, from eyelids cleaning the eye and flies brushing their wings.

Therefore, there is magnificence and harmony in every creation in every corner of the world. With varieties of beauty spread in a myriad of colors and forms, it is so splendid that imaginations are pushed to the limit when trying to imagine anything more beautiful.

It is such a pity that this wonderful world, which God has bestowed upon humans to observe and study free of charge, is no longer given any more care than is given to a heap of junk.

“How deplorably and awkwardly we have treated plains and residential places, which we have changed into deserts and heaps of ruin. How deplorably and gracelessly we have treated seas and rivers, which we have polluted. Again, how deplorably and awkwardly we have treated air and water, and fields, forests, and gardens, which we have made unfavorable to any life. Truly, by changing this Paradise-like world to a hell, how deplorably and awkwardly we have treated ourselves!”

In our eagerness to “progress” and “develop,” we have lost sight of the finite and delicate nature of our world and of humanity’s place in it. So it is when humans improve the condition of this world whose order they have destroyed and polluted, and restore it to its prior balance and beauty, only then will they be able to live a healthier and happier lifestyle.

Guardians of the Earth

The origins of global environmental problems lie in humankind’s deliberate rejection of the physical laws governing environmental management and a persistent disobedience to God’s spiritual laws.

“And do good as God has done good to you. And desire not corruption in the land. Indeed, God does not like corruptors.” (Quran 28:77)

The Quran and the teachings of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, contain instructions to assist humanity in preserving its environment. In the Quran God declares, “It is He who has appointed you viceroys (guardians) in the earth” (6:165). Through this verse it becomes evident that humans have a special place in God’s scheme. They are more than friends of the Earth; they are its guardians.

Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, lived up to this verse best as a guardian of the earth. He was an “environmental pioneer” who lived with the philosophy that there is a fundamental link and interdependency between all natural elements and that if humans abuse one element, the natural world as a whole will suffer the direct consequences.

For instance, the Prophet pointed out the many benefits in planting trees which he said will last until the Day of Judgment. He said, “If the Hour is imminent and anyone of you has a palm shoot to plant in his hand and is able to plant it before the Hour strikes, then he should do so and he will be rewarded for that action.”

Furthermore, the Prophet recommended and warned that shaded spots where people could rest and spaces under fruit trees should not be dirtied. He also emphasized that there should be no spitting on roads and places of worship, and objects that could injure people should be removed from the roads and put to one side. All of these principles are essential for every person to implement in ensuring a healthy environment and in respect to protecting and keeping the environment clean.

The Quran also emphasizes not harming other living creatures on earth. God declares, “And there is no creature on or within the earth or a bird that flies with its wings except that they are nations (communities) like you.” (6:38)

Recent statistics show that over 60,000 animal species have gone extinct, over 4 million hectares of forests are lost, around 1.8 billion liters of water are used up, and around 10 million tons of toxic chemicals are released into our environment by industries each year. These are massive amounts of waste and destruction that humans have brought upon themselves.

The environmental devastation encapsulating this planet is thus a direct result of these physical laws being broken. These statistics illustrate the results of our law-breaking catching up with us.

The Ottomans: Sultans of Sympathy

The Ottoman era was a period during which an extreme emphasis was placed on the regulation and protection of the environment, such that had legally enforceable consequences. This meant that there was zero tolerance towards any misuse of the environment.

It is possible to see the value, importance, and respect given to the environment by the Islamic world during fifteenth century through the will of the great Ottoman Sultan Mehmet, Fatih the Conqueror. The will reads:

“I, the conqueror of Istanbul, humble servant Fatih Sultan Mehmet, donate 136 shops which I personally and rightfully own in Taslik suburb of Istanbul with the following conditions:

I have assigned two persons for every street in Istanbul to be paid from the profit earned from these shops. These persons are to walk along these streets at specific times of the day with a bucket in their hands which contains limestone and coal powder. They are to conceal any spit found on the streets with these powders and be paid 20 akçe (Ottoman currency) per day.

Furthermore, I have assigned 10 surgeons, 10 doctors, and 3 nurses. They are to walk through the streets of Istanbul on certain days of each month, knock on each and every door and find out whether there are any sick people in that household. If there are, they are to treat them. If this is not possible at the time, they are to be transferred to Darülaceze (nursing homes/hospitals) and be treated there.

Additionally, the families of the soldiers who are fallen martyrs and the poor people of Istanbul are to be fed in the soup kitchen which I have built. However, those who are not able to personally come and eat there or collect their food will be provided with alternative service. Their food is to be sent to their homes in concealed containers after sunset without it being seen by others.”

Another royal document regarding environmental care comes from sixteenth century Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent titled Nisan-i Hümayun. Some important points to note in this document include:

“All homes, shops, and their surroundings are to be kept clean or to get cleaned. Those in charge should identify citizens who litter and get those who are responsible to clean their own litter.

Owners of oxcarts should not disturb local residents by leaving their animals near houses or courtyards. They are to collect and dispose of the dung from their animals to appropriate places outside of the city. People are to be prevented from throwing the carcasses of horses, sheep, etc. onto the streets. Those who refuse to comply with this rule are to be punished publicly.

Used water containing detergent and soap are not to be thrown out onto the streets. No individual has the right to prevent these rules from being implemented and will closely be monitored by law enforcement agencies.”

It is clearly evident that in royal documents like those mentioned above, the leaders took necessary precautions and showed sensitivity towards the implementation of the matters regarding the protection of spiritual and physical wellbeing of the people and the cleanliness of public places.

Animal rights are a contemporary issue that came to public attention only quite recently. Unfortunately, in today’s society, many governments are still struggling with human rights issues, let alone dealing with animal rights.

Ottoman sultans implemented legal measures on the protection and the treatment of animals. In doing so, the care and proper treatment of animals were bound by legal measures and are not left to the individuals’ own judgment.

The Ottoman Empire was known for its vakýf, or foundations, which were first set up to meet the needs of certain groups of people within society but later became an integral part of the Ottoman lifestyle. The most interesting of these vakýf were those dedicated to animals. These foundations were places where generous people would donate certain amounts of money to bakeries and butchers so that they could provide bread and meat for street animals.

Moreover, the sultans did not just stop at providing food for animals, they also made sure that if these animals fell ill, there were specialized hospitals for them to be treated in and looked after.

Ricaut, a British clerk who worked at the British embassy in Istanbul during the Ottoman period (d. 1700) said how impressed he was by the respect and value the Ottoman people had given animals and the importance they had shown towards their nutrition and protection.

“There were not only people, but also cats and dogs that ate from the soup kitchens. In some cities buildings were made for cats, foundations were established for their nutrition, and expenses were paid for the allocation of servants to meet the needs of these animals.”

Aboriginals: The Key to Land Management

Until quite recently the human race, whether in small self-governing native communities or vast empires, functioned instinctively within natural, unwritten boundaries. When these old civilizations died, the forest and natural environment just grew over them. They left no rubbish, pollutants, or waste.

Similarly, Aboriginal tribes of Australia moved around their land for tracking shifts in the availability of important resources. Their respect for the native flora and fauna meant using techniques to ensure their survival.

They actively managed their land through prescribed burning regimes handed down from their ancestors. Aboriginal people burnt to hunt, to promote new grass, to make their land easier to travel through, to clear their land of spiritual pollution left after a death, to create firebreaks for later in the dry season, and for a variety of other reasons whose sole aim was to “bring the land alive again.”

They also had such deep respect for the animals on their land that, for instance, they would slaughter a kangaroo to eat only if the total number of kangaroos in a specific area had reached a certain amount. So until then, they could not touch the kangaroos even if it meant staying hungry and finding something else to eat. Their overall respect for the plants and animals of their land is one that was extremely sacred, one they felt liable to take care of and pass on in good condition to the generations to come.

Conclusion

Today, however, man has much more to offer the world, intellectually and technologically, when compared to the past. Despite having the upper hand in areas such as science and technology, the environment is still struggling and suffering. Who has control over whom? Why is it that tribes, clans, and empires in the past with little advancements had more control over the environment, and today with all the technological breakthroughs, people are still struggling?

Sadly, the harmony that the Prophet promoted between man and his environment has been lost. As we face the effects of chemical pollution caused by industrial wastes, visual pollution caused by rubbish dumping; noise pollution caused by unnecessary sounds, and thought pollution caused by pointless and disorganized overflow of information, it is perhaps time for the world community as a whole, regardless of faith or background, to look into Prophet’s teachings and address the current environmental crisis wisely.

The fundamental solution to these crises lies in humankind respecting the physical laws and embracing the spiritual laws designed by God.

Only then can there be true health, happiness, and healing.

Notes

• Nursi, Bediuzzaman Said. 2008. The Gleams, NJ: Tughra Books, p. 429.
• Gulen, Fethullah. 1996. “The Nature We Have Destroyed,” The Fountain, No. 15.
• Hadith Musnad.
• Bukhari Volume 1, Book 8, Number 406.
• Muslim Book 004, Number 1126.
• Worldometers, “World Statistics updated in real time,” http://www.worldometers.info/, Accessed 1 June 2009.
• Özdemir, Ibrahim. “Osmanlý Toplumunda Çevre Anlayisi” Türkler, edt. H.C. Güzel and K. Çiçek, Ankara: Yeni Turkiye Yayýnlarý, c. 10. http://www.ibrahimozdemir.com/Makaleler/Osmanl%C4%B1ToplumundaCevre.pdf, Accessed 21 May 2009.
• Northern Land Council: Caring for the country, “Land Management” http://www.nlc.org.au/html/care_fire.html, Accessed 1 June 2009.

As one of Turkish national arts, ebru is carried out by transferring onto special paper a design which is formed by scattering dye on dense water. It is argued that the root of the word “ebru” is from “ebr” (cloud-like), “ab-rû” (water surface) in Persian, or “ebre” (moiréd) in Chagatai. Owing to its moiréd appearance, it is called “marmor papier,” “papier marbre,” or “marbled paper” in European languages, and “waraqu’l-mujazza” in Arabic.

The art of Ebru, which is believed to have origins in Bukhara (a city in Uzbekistan, Central Asia) in the eighth or ninth century, reached Anatolia and Istanbul via Iran along the Great Silk Road. Ebru, like other book arts, continued to develop in Istanbul, reached maturity in the sixteenth century, and experienced its brightest period of time in the seventeenth century. The Ebru that was produced in that period in Istanbul was enough to meet the demand from Europeans.

The oldest example of Ebru ever known is in Istanbul University Library. It is estimated that it was made before 1519. Another piece of Ebru, which is believed to have been made in 1539, is kept in Topkapý Palace, in Istanbul. It is impossible to know much about early Ebru artists, (except those from the last period of the Ottomans) because there was no tradition of adding the artist’s signature to the work in that period. sebek Mehmet Efendi, Hatip Mehmet Efendi, seyh Sadýk Efendi, Nafiz Efendi and Hezarfen Ethem Efendi were famous Ebru artists who lived in the Ottoman period. Names such as Necmettin Okyay, Sami Okyay, Sacit Okyay, Abdülkadir Kadri Efendi and Mustafa Düzgünman were famous Ebru artists who lived in the early Republican period. Today, in Turkey, where the art of Ebru is becoming even more popular, there are a lot of contemporary Ebru artists.

Early Ebru artists produced almost all the equipment that they used. The materials which are used are paper, kitre (a gum-like substance made of cow’s gall), a table, naphtha, an awl set, combs, dyes, and brushes. The dye that is used in Ebru is water-proof. In traditional Ebru, soil pigments are used. The pigments are crushed on a marble base with a hand-carved stone called a “destezeng.” They are then put in a bowl, and mixed with water and gall. The mixture is left to stand for some time so that it reaches the right consistency. The period of waiting may be from several weeks to several years according to the type and quality of the dye. Owing to the difficulty of its preparation, this technique has almost been completely replaced with using readymade products.

Ebru is categorized according to the design and the motif used. By manipulating the dye on the surface of the water, different styles of Ebru can be made such as “the tide,” “the shawl,” “the striped,” “bülbülyuvasý,” (drawing spirals from outside to inside) “Hatip,” (drawing concentric circles with drops of colors) and “flowery.” Battal Ebru is made without manipulating the dye and transferred to the paper directly.

To judge the beauty of a piece of Ebru, three points should be taken into consideration. These are hav (the nap), the nimbus (hale), and the design. The nap is the height of the dye on the surface of the water. It feels velvet-like when it is touched with the fingers. The best nap can only be obtained with a soil dye. The nimbus is a white, glimmering circle around every drop of dye. It is achieved with the gall which is added to the dye. The design is the general appearance of the Ebru. It is composed of color distribution, coherence, form, and the location and size of motifs.

In the contemporary world, different schools of Ebru can be distinguished. The Turkish art of Ebru is one of these styles or schools. Hundreds of Ebru artists perform Ebru in their own way.

Today, most Ebru artists practice it as an independent art. In addition, Ebru is also used with miniature, calligraphy, tezhip, and other arts such as painting. The production of Ebru for book binding has declined in recent years.

There are different arguments about the relation between traditional and modern Ebru. While some artists are more sensitive about carrying on the traditional school, others are freer about the use of equipment and technique. It is useless to argue on which is better. There are already hundreds of Ebru artists around the world who deal with Ebru in the way they want. Whether the work is admired or not depends on art lovers. It is probable that a technique or a school which does not attract any attention today will be demanded more in the future.

There are too few Ebru artists who have received education and license to teach from the early masters. For that reason, the condition that every Ebru teacher should have a teaching license may restrict the art and artists. It can be understood whether one is really an Ebru artist or not, through one’s works, not just by looking at a person’s certificate. On the other hand, it would be beneficial if expert trainers could come together and determine some criteria.

The art of Ebru in today’s world has been experiencing a period of revival. Both in Turkey and in the rest of the world, there is increasing interest in Ebru. In tandem with the fact that many Ebru artists have been trained, there have arisen new techniques and schools.

I could claim that I did not want to go just because of my fear of flying, but I must confess that when I was first offered to join a trip to Turkey, I was filled with trepidation. The source of my misgivings was actually a stereotype I was harboring-I thought of the Turks as an unbeatable and ferocious military power. While growing up in Boston as a second-generation Lebanese, I heard stories about the “old country” all my life. As one story goes, it was the “Turks” who caused my maternal grandfather to leave his beloved Mount Lebanon and immigrate to America. That was in 1913, when it was common for Turkish soldiers to swoop down on villages in Syria, round up the young men, and consign them to distant shores to quash uprisings against the Ottoman Empire. None of them ever returned. So, at the age of twenty-two, having no heart to shoot anyone and dodging the violence he found so odious, my grandfather headed for America. On my father’s side of the family, I had an uncle called “Turk.” Family folklore had it that Uncle Turk earned his lifelong sobriquet because of the mayhem he committed on the football field at Colby College about sixty years ago. Another thing that made a lasting impression on me was a popular song that came out in the 1950s:

So take me back to Constantinople

No, you can’t go back to Constantinople

Been a long time gone, Constantinople

Why did Constantinople get the works?

That’s nobody’s business but the Turks

This song reinforced the image I had of the Turks-that their military prowess was something people wrote songs about.

My interest in Turkish politics was piqued more recently when concerns were raised about the strength and resolve of its secular government. I decided that on my trip I would try to learn more about the situation, in particular, the relationship between secularism, religion, and the headscarf.

The first time I studied Islamic history was at Harvard in a postgraduate course. I remembered the lesson on Constantinople, the brightest jewel in the crown of the Byzantine Empire. Its conquest had eluded the Muslim emirs for seven centuries, until it fell at the hands of the Ottoman Sultans, renowned for their military expertise.

Ironically, I was drawn to the military museum in Istanbul, and it was an amazing experience because the walls seemed to reverberate with the pride of past accomplishments. What fascinated me was the detailed story of the conquest of Constantinople and the life-size figures on display. There was the conqueror, Mehmet, sitting straight and tall on a white stallion, and beside him, standing with a cane was an old man with a long white beard-Mehmet’s spiritual advisor Aksemseddin. In 1453, the conquest had rocked the world. Mehmet was just twenty-one years old at the time. At Harvard, I had never learned anything about Mehmet having a spiritual advisor, although I had asked my professor many times, without ever receiving a satisfactory answer, what the role of religion was in the Ottoman Empire, especially for the Turks.

In the twenty-first century, the role of religion is the subject of much debate. In Turkey, a great deal of discussion has arisen over the law that forbids women from wearing a headscarf on government property (such as the military museum) or at government-run universities. The law is based on Turkey’s eighty-year history of maintaining the separation of church and state. For a foreigner like myself, it was strange to witness college girls who would stand outside the university gates to take the headscarf off before entering (or risk being thrown out of school), and then stand outside the gates to put it back on when they were leaving.

Although I cannot speak with any authority on the political situation in Turkey, I had first-hand experience with the law. Driving into the museum parking lot, a young man in a military uniform stopped our car, lowered his head, and leaned into the window. Pointing to me in the back seat, he said in Turkish, “That headscarf has to come off!” My gracious Turkish hosts had fully prepared me for this moment. However, it struck me for the first time that Turkey was facing an enormous challenge: to reconcile secularism and religious freedom; something we take for granted in America.

Secularists might say that to speak of religious freedom in Turkey is to be totally nave, but as a student of Turkish history, I am not that nave. I understand the threat to secular society presented by the radical Islamists, but who are the “radical Islamists” in Turkey? Surely, not every religious person wants to overthrow the government? To find clarification on the matter, the news stories I had read were totally inadequate. So, after being introduced to some career-minded college girls who wore the headscarf, I decided to ask them informally for their political and religious views.

Of Turkish history, I knew that in the past few decades there has been a movement among the younger generations to embrace Islam and more young women now wear the headscarf. As sociologists know, with most social movements, whatever has been repressed eventually rises up in society. The religious revival in Turkey could be a response to the secularizing reforms, but there are global factors to consider as well.

I asked the college girls what kind of state they hoped for. Their answer was unequivocal and unanimous. They did not want to live in a society where they had no freedom or equal rights. They vehemently rejected the fundamentalism, that is, the kind of tribal mentality that creates a society bereft of the basic values of Islam, such as peace, justice, compassion, and equality for all human beings; and places greater value on violence, oppression, and punishment. They railed against associating Islam with rigid ideologies and tyrants. The college girls I surveyed indicated no desire for a state religion. They wanted to participate and contribute to a modern society where everyone was free to work and practice their religion.

I understand that some sections in Muslim societies are unable or unwilling to modernize their societies, but such things take time. I discovered that Turkey is really at the vanguard of modernity in the Muslim world, and that Turkish scholars have already conceived of a true representation of Islam. I was introduced to the writings of one of the contemporary Turkish religious thinkers, Fethullah Gulen, who has described the essence of religious practice in these words: “Loving and respecting humanity merely because they are human is an expression of love and respect for the Almighty Creator.” Whether secular or religious, I could think of no better ethos for Muslims to follow.

On my last day in Istanbul, I stood on a hill overlooking the Bosphorus. The chilly winds and watery vistas reminded me of San Francisco Bay. In my view too was the bridge that connects two continents, Europe and Asia. In this and in other indescribable ways, Turkey combined the best of both worlds, where humanistic values and modern Islamic thought can coexist. To me, it felt natural to stand astride the two worlds, to inhabit both, or perhaps neither.

Mary Lahaj has a master’s degree from the Hartford Seminary in Islamic Studies and Christian/Muslim Relations. She is currently the first Muslim woman chaplain at Brigham & Women’s Hospital in their residency program and also works as the Muslim Advisor for the Groton School. In 2005, she received the Promoting Peace Through Dialogue Award, awarded to her by the Boston Dialogue Foundation.

Notes

1. In fact in Turkey the state controls the practice of Islam through the Religious Affairs Directorate. For example, all imams are obliged to read the same sermon (khutba) at Friday prayer, the sermon being provided by the directorate. (Ed.)

Galib’s master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) is viewed as one of the most distinguished works of Turkish Literature. It is known for its perfect presentations of symbols and characters with which he tells the story of a dervish who strives to attain a state of perfection after passing difficult tests and obstacles.

Sheikh Galib, who was also known as Galib Dede, is considered to be the last of the great classical Ottoman poets. Born in Istanbul in 1757, when the Ottoman Empire was at its height, he is one of the most important figures in the Sufi tradition. His father was a government official with some connection to the Mevlevi Sufi order, the order of “whirling dervishes” founded by Rumi. He compiled his first divan (book of poetry) at twenty-four years of age, and at twenty-six he finished his master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) in less than six months. Hüsn ü Ask is a divan of his poetry and a poetic allegory which is seen as one of the best books of classical Ottoman poetry. Galib went to Rumi’s town of Konya to finish his period of seclusion (çile)¹ so that he would become a sheikh of the Mevlevi order, but he returned to Istanbul at his father’s insistence. Seclusion is an important stage in the Sufi path (tasawwuf), during which a dervish purifies his body from human desires and matures his soul spiritually. Galib completed his seclusion and spiritual education in the Galata house of the Mevlevis in Istanbul in three years, and became a Dede (Master) of the house. He was appointed as Sheikh of the Galata house of the Mevlevis during the time of Sultan Selim III and became a very close friend of the Sultan.

At first, Galib attempted to combine a government career with the interior life of a Sufi, but he eventually turned his focus wholeheartedly to the spiritual life. By this time, he was already famous for his poetry, which was admired even by Sultan Selim III, who was a patron of poets and the sultan at that time. Sheikh Galib deeply affected the sultan spiritually, trained many students and passed away at the age of forty-three in 1799. His tomb is in a place called Hamusan (“Place of silence”) in the Galata house of the Mevlevis in Istanbul.²

The spiritual adventure of a soul: Hüsn ü Ask

Classical Turkish poetry is full of images and symbols which scholars discuss in terms of their function in symbolic meaning, whereas they agree on their lexical meaning. The range of symbols, which are often repeated, has been widened and enriched for centuries. They enrich the content of the poetry by making the words denser and wider in terms of meaning, and they are also seen as an indicator of superiority, originality and privilege while evaluating the poets’ literary skills. The poet aims to say much in few words, a simple but powerful approach that makes the poetry mysterious and something in which readers find their own images and thoughts.³

Galib’s poetry was at a peak in terms of richness of imagination and this has made him a role model for many later poets who emulate his poetic style. His master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) is viewed as one of the most distinguished works of Turkish literature. It is known for its perfect presentations of symbols and characters with which he tells the story of a dervish who strives to attain a state of perfection after passing difficult tests and obstacles. Hüsn ü Ask is a quest by a man for his interior life. The man is searching for himself in this quest, and while reflecting his interior life, it also shows the soul of the man. Sheikh Galib says that he took the idea from Rumi’s Mesnevi, claiming that Mesnevi is something that belongs to all humanity, not just Rumi. Hüsn (Beauty) and Ask (Love), who are the main characters of the story, are two people born on the same day in a tribe in the desert. According to the story, Hüsn is very beautiful, she shines like the moon, and she represents all beauty. Ask is very brave, honest, and handsome, and he represents all the love and effort that is directed toward beauty. It is as if Hüsn and Ask are tailored for each other, but Ask has many tests and obstacles to pass in order to prove his capacity to deserve Hüsn.⁴

The obstacles and tests represent the suffering (çile) of the dervish, or our deeds in life that will lead us to the afterlife. Hüsn represents God, all that is most beautiful and most gracious and which represents all beauty in life and the hereafter. Ask stands for the man who desires beauty, who above all seeks it in his soul and in his consciousness. This is true because God created humans for Himself, so that humans always seek eternity and eternal love, whether knowingly or unknowingly. According to Sufism (tasawwuf), a person cannot be satisfied in his or her soul until he or she finds the reason behind his or her creation; thus people always seek this ultimate reason. The Qur’an also expresses this as

Be aware that it is in the remembrance of God, and whole-hearted devotion to God, that hearts find rest and contentment. (Rad 13:28)⁵

During the journey, Hüsn has to face many different tests and is required to pass all of them fully in the given time. Galib describes this: “It is not easy to get Hüsn, you have to pay a great deal. You have to find the required chemical first. This chemical is only found in the realm of the heart and, it is something that transforms anything into gold. You will find dragons with a thousand heads in this realm of the heart. If you pass the dragons, your way will lead you to the sea of fire. On the shore of the sea of fire, you will see a ship made of wax. You have to pass over the sea of fire with that ship made of wax. If you pass over the sea, a witch of many evils will be waiting for you on the other side. Your way will lead you to a desert in which lions, giants and many wild animals are waiting for you. Creatures that sound like thunderstorms will jump on you. There will always be fire in this desert. If you pass through the desert, you can arrive in the homeland of the heart. Find the chemical over there and come back by the same way. What you call life is too short, like the blink of an eye. If you want to get Hüsn, you have to be very quick.”⁶

The obstacles mostly represent the devil and the carnal self (nafs) that are the two main enemies of humans, according to the Islamic faith. If one fails one of the tests, one cannot reach or will be delayed in reaching Hüsn. Hüsn has a teacher named Gayret (Endeavor), and he will be with Hüsn during this adventure. Sheikh Galib says he came to the world to write Hüsn ü Ask and ends his story by giving some advice. Humans, he says, cannot reach anything beautiful without binding it with love and passion. Sometimes, you will face huge problems, and you will feel like you are walking in a desert of fire, and sometimes you will fall into wells of sorrow, but you will be rescued from these wells by grabbing the rope that represents the Qur’an and faith in God (Al Imran 3:103). We should always have endeavor and hope. We might have obstacles, traps and tests in front of us and sometimes we might fail. But we should never give up and we should continue our journey with passion and hope. The chemical that converts anything to gold is affection; once you find it you will see everything differently.

A life devoted to the faith

Since according to tasawwuf, true love is love for the sake of God, Who is the source of all beauty and to Whom is due all worship and love, Sheikh Galib’s works display rich examples and meanings that reflect his love of God. The phrases are usually not directed to the creator directly, but the true meaning is hidden in the symbols. For example, he writes,

Love is a lamp of God, I am its moth;
love is a shackle, my heart is its crazy captive.
…
The Beloved’s candle has such a wonderful light,
its light does not fit into the lamp glass of Heaven.

According to the poet, “having God’s everlasting pleasure for a person is an everlasting treasure that is more valuable than anything else.” It is this understanding which forms the basis for a dervish’s deeds, and it is what makes a dervish’s life understandable. The dervish only wants God’s pleasure and love, and he conducts himself in such a way as to earn it. It is not important for him to be rich, powerful, or handsome, or so on, because these are not the tools that take him to divine love.

Sheikh Galib’s poem in praise of the Prophet is accepted as one of the best ever written and shows his devotion and dedication to him. It was indeed a tradition for the poets of classical Ottoman literature to write poems called “naat” dedicated to the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. In his poem, Galib begins by describing the Prophet’s features and by praising his personality, and at the end asks for his intercession for the afterlife.

O Master, you are the sultan of all prophets, king of all the honored.
O Master, you are the eternal cure for the desperate and helpless.
O Master, you are the most valuable person in the abode of God.
Master, you are the most praised and most beloved.
O Master , you are given as a mercy to us by God.⁷

In this noble eulogy of the Prophet, there are also some descriptions of the Prophet’s great friends, the places whose names the Prophet often mentioned and the Day of Judgment, on which everybody will seek help and mercy. The poet humbly asks for the Prophet’s help, not just for himself but everybody who has faith. This reflects the hope that as much as you remember, praise Prophet Muhammad and send greetings to him, the more likely he will pray for God’s mercy upon you on the Day of Judgment.

Conclusion

Tasawwuf and its effects constitute very important elements of Classical Ottoman Poetry. Drawing on the rich vocabulary and symbolism tasawwuf enables poets to convey a great many additional layers of meaning, as well as the visible lexical meanings in the lines they compose. Sheikh Galib claims that a human being is born with a given love that is from past eternity and that is divine love. Love is something that already exists in the soul and heart; it does not merely appear at a late phase. Therefore, love is not an ending but it is a beginning. Galib does not follow a path where the story goes from love of the human to divine love; in fact, he talks directly about divine love. If a person frees himself or herself from the shackles and chains of human love and finds divine love, he or she will be able to pass over the sea of fire in a ship made of wax, able to defeat giants, witches, demons and exceed all his or her limitations.

Ahmet D. Bahadir is a post-doctoral researcher with a special interest in Ottoman literature.

Notes

1. Denoting abandonment of all worldly pleasures and delights, çile is used to express an initiate’s spending at least forty days in strict austerity and self-discipline in the name of spiritual training. During this period initiates keep to the absolute bare minimum in meeting such bodily needs as eating, drinking, sleeping, and speaking, and spend most of their time in worshiping, mentioning God, thinking and self-supervision. They spend the period of çile either in a silent corner of a dervish lodge or in a quiet room in their homes.
2. Ayvazoglu, B., Kugunun Son Sarkisi, Kapi Press, Istanbul: 2006.
3. Capan, P., “On Seyh Galib’s Image of Fire,” University of Muðla, Faculty of Arts and Sciences, Department of Turkish Language and Literature, Muðla: 2005.
4. Holbrook, V. R., Beauty and Love (“Hüsn ü Ask”), Mla Texts and Translations, 2006.
5. Unal, Ali, The Qur’an: An Annotated Interpretation in Modern English, The Light, Inc, NJ: 2008, p. 505.
6. Holbrook, 2006.
7. Pala, I., Divan of Sheikh Galib, Kapi Press, Istanbul: 2005.