Following a soft negotiation of price with the rickshaw driver, I finally had initiated my way back home from the Time to Help foundation. Next to a quick introduction of our names, the driver asked me where I was from. I smiled at him. It was an easy-to-answer question for the majority of people, but not for me.

I was born in Russia, but my family left the country when I was only two; so I don’t remember much to feel part of it.

Perhaps I could say India, as I had lived my childhood within its peculiar, sweet but dirty, and adaptable environment. I saw clean walls filled with images of deities adjacent to walls filled with human excrement. I made friends who were Hindu, Christian, Muslim, or Jain. My friends taught me the language that is spoken by nearly 1/3 of the world. I also sang the national anthem with pride in every assembly. “Where there is love there is life,” says Mahatma Gandhi. The colors that covered everywhere in the “Holi” celebration were the clear message of love and joy lived by the people of India. I simply had been part of the “Bollywood” of the world. The Bollywood where I lived my childhood, gained my patience from its traffic, and celebrated diversity from its people and culture.

Yet, I could not ignore what was written in my passport and I could not ignore my parents, who raised me with the language and values of Turkey. The majority of the books I read when I was a child were in Turkish. I learned about Turkey by listening to Turkish songs, reading Turkish literature, and on top of all I spent a full month every year in Turkey, which gave me a chance to observe the country with first-hand experience. I have therefore socialized within a modified and extended family. Turkey was not a place where I felt at home to the fullest, however the importance of all these past experiences were revealed following the coup attempt of 2016 since which we no longer could visit what my father used to call our “place of rehabilitation.” Thus, my visits to Turkey temporarily ended.

For a moment, I looked at the driver as he was in the middle of a phone call. The loud African music playing behind me reminded me of the fact that I have been living here in Tanzania for 6 years now. As Turkey was waning from my annual calendar, I thought to myself, “Hakuna Matata.” Tanzania had been where I had built a character and made hundreds of friends in schools, orphanages, on streets, and with rickshaw drivers such as Emmanuel sitting in front of me. The smile on the faces of little orphans when I speak to them and play soccer with them has been part of my favorite experiences in life. The day I tried to dance like those children had placed me into the rhythm of their tradition and culture. I learned the true meaning of benevolence and gratitude as I observed the joyful moments of villagers approaching their water well when it was filled with a pure water supply, or orphans who untie their gift boxes in extreme excitement. I learned that true satisfaction was found through serving others. I learned that life could be sincerely enjoyed only when one would explore himself or herself. Life was, indeed, different in the eyes of each individual. I saw many of those vulnerable people becoming only “happier” than they used to be, while many people in wealth have lots to complain about. This relation had always enhanced my curiosity over psychology. I always felt that I had to understand myself, my existence, and my own sense of being before trying to benefit others. In Tanzania, I developed an ambition; an ambition of living, so that others may live.

I suddenly regained my consciousness as the driver threw a glance at me, still waiting for a response. I looked at him and answered “Natoka Tanzania siku hizi” (I am from Tanzania these days), and watched him, as he was laughing, in satisfaction of making someone happy at least for some part of his day.

In this post-9/11 world, the word “Muslim” conjures up many images and has many connotations. Real knowledge or understanding of Islam and Muslims however, is few and far between.

In her book Surrendering to God, Dr. Tatari starts by expounding on the literal meaning of what it means to be a muslim, which we find is the verbal noun “submitter.” She explains that a person is a submitter (muslim) if and when he or she submits their mind, heart, and actions to the Will of God. From this perspective, the book not only appeals to those who profess a Muslim identity, but to everyone who strive to find answers to their existential questions and submit to their Creator.

The book addresses the basic existential questions that torment us when they remain unanswered. For those who are swept amidst the chores of life and feel they are about to drown without meaning, the book gives them the opportunity to pause and reset.

This book helps bridge the divide between what we know as Islam and what really is Islam. As a Christian, I found the overlap in the principles of Islam, Christianity, and Judaism comforting in an era when there is all too much emphasis on our differences.

Surrendering to God is not a how-to, nor is it an academic text. Instead, it is an occasionally biographical account of one woman’s journey deeper into her religion that manages to address the larger points of what being a follower of Islam means. Tatari is clear in emphasizing that this is her account, and should not be seen as the definitive guide. She also emphasizes that the relationship one fosters with their Creator is a personal one, that “Faith is a personal matter between a believer and her Creator.”

While very grounded, Surrendering to God frequently makes reference to beautiful passages that illustrate the beauty the author finds in her devotion. One example is when she states: “In Islam, human beings are not deemed to be intrinsically evil. We have the potential to be higher than angels or lower than animals.”

Dr. Tatari makes an important point that religion and science are not incompatible, and that questioning one’s religion is not a sin: “I have learned that this natural … questioning is a gift of God to find Him and that in numerous Qur’anic verses He urges us to question everything.” This is important because all too often to express curiosity, to question, and yes, to occasionally doubt is seen as the currency of the faithless or the “doubters” when in reality it is often the means of getting closer to God.

This book opens a fresh and insightful window into Islam as a practical lifestyle and way of life. Although it deals with theoretical concepts, it is wholly practical. It sheds light on Islam as a religion that is lived rather than just read.

While perhaps intended for Muslims (or muslims, as I have learned from the book that there is a distinction), this book makes great reading for those early on in their relationship with Islam, and for those who are just generally curious about Islam and what it means to be a muslim.

Surrendering to God is a thought-provoking read, no matter what one’s background is. This book will be inspiring to anyone who is trying to grow closer to God and reflect on what is truly important in life.

Dr. Rayna Flye is Research and Evaluation Specialist at Beaverton School District in Oregon.

Original Article: Morewedge C.K. et al., Science 330, 1530 (2010).

If you’ve had a chance to visit the Fatih district in Istanbul, then you have probably seen the famous mosque called “As If I Ate” (Sanki Yedim Camii). The history of the mosque is at least as interesting as its name: Kececi Hayrettin Efendi, who lived in Istanbul in the eighteenth century, led a frugal life and used to save the money he could have used for pleasures like good food. Each time he went into a restaurant, he self-suggested “as if I ate” and assumed himself full. Years go by, and one day Kececi Hayrettin Efendi decides to count the money he saved this way. Surprisingly, he realized that he had saved enough money to build a mosque. Research conducted by Carnegie Mellon University behavioral scientists has shown that Kececi Hayrettin Efendi’s “as if I ate” approach might also be a useful way to curb one’s appetite. During the study, a group of volunteers was asked to imagine eating lots of sweets repetitively before eating as many M&Ms as they like, while a second group was asked to imagine inserting coins into a laundry machine. It turned out that the group that imagined eating sweets ended up eating significantly fewer M&Ms compared to the second group. The researchers performed the same experiment with variety of foods and showed that individuals who continually imagined eating a food many times actually ate less of the imagined food than did individuals who imagined eating that food fewer times, imagined eating a different food, or did not imagine eating any food, showing the effectiveness of the “as if I ate” approach.

2- The Brain Confirms: Learning to read knows no age limit

Original article: Dehaene S. et al., Science 330, 1359 (2010).

In this age of science and technology, education affects everyone drastically. Besides getting a better job or a higher social status, knowing how to read has important beneficial impacts on brain functions. In a new study, cognitive neuroscientists identified active regions of the brain in the event of reading. Three groups (illiterate, literate who learned reading at adulthood and literate who learned at childhood) were compared for their brain activities using functional magnetic resonance imaging. The study has not only helped to illustrate the complex neural circuitry of the brain, but has also demonstrated superior brain functions in literate groups, such as responses to visual and spoken stimuli. The real surprise of the study was that people who learned reading in their adulthood had similar brain activities compared to those who learned reading in their childhood. This suggests that literacy can impact the brain at any age. It has always been assumed that the brain becomes less flexible in aging people. Pointing out these new findings, Brian Wandell, a neuroscientist at Stanford University, emphasizes the ability of the brain to adapt and change upon acquiring the ability to read. He says, “Showing that this area is responsive to learning throughout life is a real contribution.”

3- Culturomics: Measuring culture through books

Original article: Michel J.B. et al., Science 331, 176 (2011).

A team of researchers from Harvard University and Google Books Team opened a new quantitative venue for social sciences which they named “Culturomics.” They used a gigantic data set, which was generated by digitizing over 15 million books (published between 1800 and 2008, ~12% of books ever published) in English, French, Spanish, German, Russian, Chinese, and Hebrew. The dataset includes over 500 billion words, and by using a new online tool (http://ngrams.googlelabs.com/) one can easily find out how many times a word was used throughout the last two centuries. The study elegantly demonstrates how human kind has changed in the twentieth century. For example, technological advances in the twentieth century became part of the culture almost three times faster than it used to be in the nineteenth century. On average, people became famous and lost their fame two times faster than in the nineteenth century, and the authors claim that the trend for becoming famous and losing fame will be even faster in the future, at which time “everyone will be famous for 7.5 minutes” on average. The researchers also spotted censorship in Nazi Germany by comparing books published in German and English by comparing the popularity of famous Jewish scientists and authors. It is yet too early to assume that this new approach will entirely change the way social scientists approach their problems, but it will certainly provide an unprecedented perspective into the humanities.

4- The search for extra dimensions is not pseudo-science after all

Original article: Bin-Nun A.Y. et al., Physical Review D 82, 064009 (2010).

The plausibility of co-existing dimensions beyond our 4 dimensional space (3 spatial + 1 time dimension) is nothing new. The attempt to reconcile quantum mechanics and general relativity led to the development of string theory in the late ’60s. M-Theory is a special extension of the superstring theory which predicts that there are 11 dimensions. It is posited that all elementary sub-atomic particles such as electrons and quarks are not 0-dimensional objects, but rather 1-dimensional vibrating “lines” or “strings.” These strings curl in specific patterns to form the subatomic particles, which then combine via nuclear forces to make up atoms and matter as we know it. Although the mathematical basis has long been established for string theory, it has hitherto not been tested due to the lack of observational signatures. A recent study suggests that it may be possible to observe the effects of extra dimensions after all by using supermassive black holes. Black holes, due to their immensely concentrated gravity, curve the space around them. This curvature affects even the light that passes through them. A star directly behind such a black hole may be observed as a warped or brightened astronomical source. It may even be possible to create so called “Einstein rings,” where the background star appears as a ring of light instead. The recent study argues that, if extra dimensions are not as tightly packed, the light that passes through curved space-time may exhibit anomalies which, in principle, can be detectable with very sensitive telescopes.

Walking into patients’ rooms during random visits always demands courage, self-esteem, and a positive outlook, together with a strong sense of spirituality. But chaplains learn early on to overcome a fear of rejection when they initiate a visit, enter a hospital room and experience a patient who opens their heart in a slow but sincere manner.

Some people think it is about religion. But I found that people accept or reject a chaplain’s visit for a variety of reasons. Religion often never enters the conversation. Chaplains are, in most cases, expected to leave that part to the patients. We just carry them wherever they want to go. Sometimes people respond that they are “Okay that way,” which I interpreted as having their own way of meeting their spiritual or emotional needs. For many, loneliness was one of the main reasons to accept, and anger, the main reason to reject a visit from a chaplain.

In the emergency room, when doctors put forth their greatest efforts to save a patient’s life, death is oh so near. How this death, which we always imagine as being a million miles away from us, so close at that moment? I reflect; “Am I in the same room with the angel of death at this very moment?” The reality of death removes all blocks between the chaplain and the patient; it brings us back to our humanness and our primordial state in front of God.

I encounter lonely, elderly men. These were once tough men, brave men; men who fought in our country’s wars. They were hard workers, often at menial jobs done sacrificially to provide for their families. Most never knew how to express their emotions. Many of them, shattered by the horrors from fighting in wars and suffering family tragedies, needed to be heard. It is a privilege to be the one listening to their stories and moved by a compassion that was never before experienced.

It is not often that any of us witness older men shedding tears. In the privacy of our visit, they voiced their doubt, fear and anger. “No one should ever have to see what I saw, what I was involved in. God – where was God then?” My heart would be crying out to God, “How do I respond? What do I say?” They were asking difficult questions that deserved more than a glib reply. I did not possess the words or the compassion in my own strength. I needed to increasingly rely on God in my encounters. I too wondered “why” and felt their fear and frustration. I listened. I know “God works all things for the good for those who love him” (Romans 8:28). Yet, meeting these men and women, voicing their prayers and concerns to God with them, I grieved.

A life-threatening illness grants a saint’s wisdom to the most vulgar person. Not an automatic or an easy transition, but it cultivates the soul gradually, inch by inch. Since the time Albert learned about his cancer, he has been seeing through a different lens; “All my accomplishments, my goals and ambitions meant nothing for me in seconds when I learned that I had cancer.” Lost is the pleasure of health, and the reality of life and death are finally under daylight. The sick person has the longest time in the world to reflect on this.

Anxious and distressed, an old lady complains that the young do not understand the suffering that old age brings. “Why does God, whom we know as merciful and compassionate, let us suffer?” is a common question among the sick. Some patients are angry with God. Their inner struggle covers up the beauty behind the illness. Yet, it is not ours to correct anything too fast. Their feelings are precious. Acceptance of God’s will can eventually follow the anguish, uneasiness and questioning in the beginning of illness.

To say that life sometimes hurts and is often unfair is an understatement. And it does not satisfy the “why” questions. Facing what is a major fear of all people, the loss of all we hold dear – abilities, youth, dreams, beauty, wealth, pride, fame, life itself – we can only listen.

They see with the eye of certainty and I come to understand with them, that our bodies are prone to separation and death; and the pleasures of this world do not continue. This warning is very bitter and painful at first, yet then it becomes beautiful. We should remember that we are mortal; we have a duty in life and we should prepare well for the next life. It is said that a good friend is harsh but honest. So is illness, it seems.

Sometimes being around patients’ sadness, fear and hopelessness day after day is depressing. But the most draining encounters are with the ones who have turned completely away from God. I honestly grieved for those, who in their times of terrible tragedy, seemed to feel no need for God.

Amidst the dark thoughts, I hear a patient reminding me that life is not only about sickness, but it is a reflection of God’s beautiful Names in miscellaneous ways. I happen to see only the sad part of patients’ life stories, as a chaplain, but that is not all. “Just as, through hunger, you learn of His Name, the All-Providing, so too through your illness, you come to know His Name, the All-Healing.” Thoughtful as he is, Jack says: “I might have cancer now, but I appreciate life in general; there is so much that I am thankful for. Just one big thing that I learned from my sickness: I never thought that I took life for granted. But now, I understand that I did.”

Arthur Frank, a former cancer patient and the author of At the Will of the Body, says there is a problem with the view that physical recovery is the ideal ending of illnesses. He asks “if recovery is taken to be the ideal, how is it possible to find value in the experience of an illness that either lingers on as chronic or ends in death?” Along the way of a health problem, there is the opportunity for spiritual transformation and renewal. This renewal, as a result of physical illness, is the ideal. Either an illness ends with death or not, but one should be aware that there is more than pain that one can receive from illness. From Job we learn, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” (Job 2:10).

I feel that this man who became poor-looking and weak in the hands of his illness was one of the fortunate ones, as he benefited from this gift of his serious illness. While some of his fellows become neglectful and forget God Almighty through the calamity of good health, this man’s long talk was only about God’s beautiful Names. His illness is good health while for some of his peers good health is a sickness.

Listening to patients is the most valuable gift that one can offer them. Asking questions to make patients talk is one major task of a chaplain, and preaching is not a way to reach out to them without truly understanding their problems. Who would care to listen to any advice without given the right of being heard? As I listen to the words of wisdom pour out of this very old man, he reprimands me and says “You’re the one who should be preaching to me, but here I am preaching to you.” Yet I smile at these words of comfort about God’s love and our need for Him. And I remember the verse: “Those who say when afflicted by calamity: “To God do we belong and to Him is our return” (Qur’an, 2:156).

Lucinda Miller is ordained in the Free Methodist denomination and is now serving as a hospice chaplain. Gulsum Kucuksari is in the process of completing her PhD in Islamic Studies at the University of Arizona.

Notes

1. Said Nursi. The Gleams, Twenty-Fifth Gleam, NJ: The Light, Inc., 2008, p. 292.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid. p. 293.

Where oaks once grew.

Power plants displace our cornfields

On that lovely land.

The breeze roughly sidles and bends

Over the purling brooks,

And all the mockingbirds hush

As the day droops.

Wailing moans heard everywhere

By countless orphans of the east,

Longing for a lofty peace,

Never knowing what fate conceives.

Neither chilly blizzards

Nor scorching sun,

Can lay a trap under its debris.

For those who learned too late, perhaps,

How to defy the pull of the sand.