If there’s one thing I learned as a medical trainee who deals daily with death, it’s that humans want to be remembered. We want to survive the tides of the future. We want to survive death. All our lives are devoted to doing something, to leaving a mark on this earth. Too often, however, all we manage to leave is a scar.

As John Green once put it (in his novel, The Fault in Our Stars), we are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic urine, marking everything as mine in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths.

Nowadays, this phenomenon has grown exponentially. Especially in the eyes of the younger generation, being famous is the equivalent of being alive, successful, and happy. And by constantly living on social media, eyes locked on these “superstars” and their viral videos, they convince themselves that this is what life is all about. But it is not. What truly matters is not how many people know you. It is what you are known for by those around you. Spread love and do good, and you won’t need to be a star to shine. Just like Maria.

And this is why I want to tell her story.

Maria was different. She walked lightly upon the earth. Maria knew the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either. People will say it’s sad that she left a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism?

April 14, 2020. Italy.

On this particular Tuesday, I was making the last round on my patients before my 16-hour shift ended. In medicine, we are used to working long and tiring shifts; however, with the novel Coronavirus pandemic in full swing, we had reached new heights. But we were all clenching our teeth and working hard to keep our healthcare system afloat. At the time, the situation was overwhelming in Italy. The sad truth was that, often, we had to make deliberate decisions on who we wanted to save and who we were going to let die because we couldn’t give them proper and timely treatment.

The heaviness of knowing that your decisions may cause the death of someone is agonizingly painful. It’s like an ocean crashing on you, letting you come afloat just to take a quick breath, before pulling you down again. It’s not easy to ignore the pleas of the families to save their loved ones. Truth to be told, it’s depressing, and I don’t think there are words that can properly express the sense of hopelessness that one goes through.

As Virginia Woolf once wrote:

English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache… The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry. And we’re such language-based creatures that to some extent we cannot know what we cannot name. And so we assume it isn’t real. We refer to it with catch-all terms, like crazy or chronic pain, terms that both ostracize and minimize. The term chronic pain captures nothing of the grinding, constant, ceaseless, inescapable hurt. And the term crazy arrives at us with none of the terror and worry you live with. Nor do either of those terms connote the courage people in such pains exemplify.

On the other hand, the pandemic has also restored my faith in humanity and brought to light some amazing stories. For example, the story of Maria. She was an 82-year-old woman who had been admitted to the hospital one week before, in the intensive care unit. On that Tuesday, I was checking on her to see if her condition was improving or not. She shared her room with two other patients. When I came around her bed, she had her eyes slightly open. Her heartbeat and systemic pressure were perfectly normal for a person of her age, even though she had great trouble breathing properly.

“Hey, Dr. Ahmet, how are you doing?” she said, managing a smile.

I smiled back. Typical of Maria: even though she was the one in a hospital bed, she always asked me if I was doing fine first.

“I’m good. Thanks. How about you?”

“I’m doing alright…” Her voice trailed off. “Actually… it’s a bit depressing, to tell you the truth. All these white walls and gloomy faces.”

“For the white walls, I could ask someone to move you to another room. Just tell me which color you prefer. And you are right. We should paint them.”

“Nah, the walls are not a big problem. It’s the gloomy faces that I would like to change…”

I tweaked the valve of the oxygen canister. “You are asking me to do something really difficult,” I said. I was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally. It had been almost a month since we began working non-stop, and at times it seemed all in vain.

“Why?” she sounded surprised, “Being happy is not supposed to be that difficult. You know, dear, I remember the old times, when we used to dance mindlessly and laugh together. I loved it. And dancing really washes away all stress.”

“But you didn’t have to deal with a pandemic,” I said, scribbling her physiological measurements on the clinical report.

Maria laughed. “Ahmet, we had to deal with a deadly war, don’t underestimate the oldsters. But you know what, it isn’t the situation you’re in that should determine your happiness. It’s you. Being positive is a choice.”

“Maria, you could be a motivational speaker.”

“I know. ”

When I was completing my round, I kept thinking about Maria’s words. It was true: happiness came from within. But sometimes it was so hard to find.

Maybe we were not even trying. For my part, I thought it would be careless to be happy among all the pain and affliction. However, Maria’s words made me think that with my depressed mood and dispirited face, I might be one of the causes of that suffering.

I would definitely not be able to fully eliminate it, but I could at least try to alleviate it. I had to. But how? It felt like wandering in a room full of darkness: you know there is a switch somewhere, but the true challenge is finding it.

The next day, I came into her room for the usual check-up routine.

“Don’t I look like a zombie?” she said as soon as I entered the ward, pointing at the tubes that ran from the ventilator to her smiling mouth.

“Not at all,” I answered, glancing briefly at her clinical report. “120/80 mmHg blood pressure, regular heart rate at 75 beats per minute, osmolarity of 295 mOsm/L. You are doing superbly. A few more weeks and you’ll be out of here.”

The smile on Maria’s face faded, washed away by something I couldn’t see. “A few more weeks?”

“Yup. And then you will be able to get back to your children and nieces.”

“Ahmet.” Her voice sounded strangely serious. Usually, Maria was the one who brought laughter to her ward. After all, she was the one who told us to always stay positive. “I have to ask you for a huge favor. ”

“Tell me; I’ll do my best to help you.”

“Look… I’ve been following the news recently…and I know how many hardships you are all enduring.”

“It’s nothing. Really. We do it because it’s what we want to do.”

I meant it.

“I know. I know,” said Maria, crisping her lips in an irritated line. “But I also know that there are too many cases and too few ventilators. You have to choose between who you will save and who you will let die.”

I didn’t answer. My throat felt like a tender patch of heat.

“Well…” continued Maria. “The favor I want to ask you is that you give my ventilator to someone else. Just let me see my children this evening and then I’ll be ready to go. And, oh, don’t tell them about this. Tell them that I couldn’t make it. This will be our little secret.” She winked at me, her big blue eyes glittering.

“But… in a few weeks, you will be out of here,” I protested, pursing my lips and exhaling slowly, to calm myself. “Why are you choosing to die?”

“Oh, my dear. Look… as Steve Jobs put it ‘death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it and that is as it should be because death is the single best invention of life. It’s a life-changing agent; it clears out the old to make way for the new.’ I am old now.” And here she pointed at her wrinkles, smiling again. “And I want to give the gift of life to someone younger than me. I want to give them their second ticket to life, so that they can get to live pursuing their passions and with no regrets. Just as I did. This is my last wish. If you grant me this, I can leave this Earth in peace. And the only thing you have to tell the person who will take this bed is to not be scared of death because it will make you miss your life. You can’t beat the Reaper by living longer. You can only beat it by living well and fully. Do the things you want to do before the Reaper shows up. Because it will be too late then.”

And these were the last words I heard from her.

That evening, after her children went away, she unplugged the ventilator herself, and when I came into the room she was lying on the bed, with a peaceful smile on her face.

*Maria is a pseudonym used for privacy concerns.

My personal sense of unease had been with me for some time, although “unease” is putting it mildly. There had been milestones of relief, little landmarks along the way. These were often books. A man called John Coleman wrote a book called The Quiet Mind. I found the title riveting. Something inside me rose in affirmation, but it was not me that had reacted. No, it was something else—but not me. I once read from a mystic that real prayer is not done by the person. You can make like you are praying, but real prayer is something the prayer does all by itself. With a little grace you might be able to get out of the way. That is the most you can hope for.

As a writer I was doing mental calisthenics. Some of it was good enough to be published. My wife found it reassuring because most writers are not famous for making money. Translation filled some of our wider gaps. Somehow, we got by.

There occurred a telling late-afternoon incident. The kids were not home from school. My wife was still at work. I was deep into a translation. An immense calm arose. I remember the mystic saying that meditation is not something you do; you must get very quiet and “feel how you feel.”

How did I feel? Like I was quietly sunbathing in something sublime. The world had fallen away. My mind dulled into abeyance. I looked up from the keyboard, tentatively, almost afraid of breaking the spell. The quietness was huge, and the room seemed to be a perfect temperature. The air felt unaccountably clean—an intangible feeling, but one definitely felt. I remember a quickly rising sense of isolation and a sudden feeling of worry. I held on, almost gasping like a fish out of water, and then the worry dispersed, I can only express it that way. I realized that it was not only all right to be me; I also had little choice. Something tingled above my heart and below my throat. My chest felt the way you feel when you drink a glass of cold water, and you feel it going down.

I turned to the translation. Something inside prayed—could prayer be hope?—that there would be nothing crass to disturb the spell. I remembered Patrick-Leigh Fermor’s A Time to Keep Silence. The author had entered a monastery to work on a book. He related that first, he was bored to desperation in the monastery, where nothing happened; then, the bubble of boredom broke, and he felt perfectly at ease with his situation. He reported a heightened sensitivity. When he left the monastery, he found driving along a freeway appalling because even the most innocuous advertisement placards along the way were an insult to his sensibility.

My wife arrived home. She looked into the room where I sat like a stunned ox. She said, “Gosh, the house feels nice.”

I knew what she was talking about, of course, but couldn’t explain any part of it. I mumbled something like, “Yeah, the translation went well.” But the house feeling nice was the best thing that I had ever experienced, and I have no idea how it happened.

The children came home, bringing their world with them. I knew that what I had experienced was the way it was meant to be. A vibration inside of me was speaking from beyond my mind. There was no mental conversation. Everything was simply seen. I sat dazed, gently resistant to a now muffled little voice trying belligerently to assert itself. The mystic had related of another voice, the whisper from the soul.

I learned, realized, what great artists give. They offer something that is so special that one’s focus is removed from the self. It was curious that George Ivan Gurdjieff proposed a system of “self-remembering”; I was then convinced that “self-forgetting” was possibly more useful. I believe that if one has the ability, luck, or grace to forget oneself, it could be the first step placed on a spiritual path. Nevertheless, right there would be the realization of all one’s troubles and certainly not instant salvation.

I had the feeling that this is what Mr. Hemingway had—perhaps unconsciously—been seeking as he shaved his sentences down to the bare minimum until a rhythm arose, making reading like counting the beads of a rosary. Laurens van der Post touched upon inner feeling in The Lost World of the Kalahari when relating of tracking an animal over two days to finally make a kill, and a Bushman saying that the women would be rejoicing and heating the cooking pots. “But how will they know about the kill?” van der Post asked. “They will feel it, here,” said the Bushman, tapping his chest.

I feel sad about Mr. Hemingway. I suppose it is the sadness felt at losing a good man, a sadness you should feel when losing anybody. I believe that he acquired the grace of seriousness, and perhaps even a quiet mind, but there was much inside of him that got in the way as he led a riotous life of worldly adventure. Mr. Hemingway dealt with his dilemma in A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. Despair is of the mind, and the mind is a tyrant. The quiet mind is a mind that is modest, in abeyance; it serves and does not lead.

Any writer who would describe with words something beyond words has my sincere best wishes. Of course, there are the atmospheric interludes in one’s life that offer a divine nudge. If any reader has heard the hypnotic call to prayer from a muezzin, floating at dawn over trees at the edge of a jungle, they will know what I mean. The point is that although there may be a sudden crashing rise of birds, the voice itself does not shatter the silence. It really does float hauntingly as a sound ethereal. The call to prayer heard in a city is often more strident but no less enchanting. One is struck by something stealthily all-encompassing, something impossible to ignore, something that lingers in a sudden brittle silence.

            Religion was obviously not to be avoided. There were too many hooks, like “The peace that passes all understanding.” Real understanding must be subservient to peace. The stunned-ox experience has brought a new dimension. I sit, gaze, go empty, and it works. During the night I scribble notes terrifically aware of the danger of laziness. If I don’t write

down this current gem I will not be able to sleep, and it will, of course, be gone in the morning. My wife looks gorgeous with her hair over her eyes as she sleeps. I sigh, resisting distraction.

I wrote about the current influx of refugees into Austria. The winter is coming. They sleep on the earth, wrapped in a blanket. There is frost on the blanket at dawn. They shiver, waiting for the sun. This is Mr. Hemingway’s “real” and “true,” given in a writing style that is no style at all and possibly his attempt at eliminating the self. On the other hand, it does say everything that needs to be said.

Walking in Vienna’s Stadtpark one can see a bronze of Mozart, once going green but now gilded, and listen to an orchestra playing alfresco, releasing swarms of the great man’s melodies into the air. Possibly poetry and prose readings would suffice to almost match such music, but they would have to be sensationally good to even get close to the magic of what Richard Strauss said about Mozart: “I spend three months looking for a theme, Mozart shook them out of his sleeve.”

I once had the privilege of spending time with and interviewing two famous jazz musicians, the bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen (who straightened out my pronunciation of Kierkegaard) and the guitarist Philip Catherine. Both of these musicians knew how to swing with the best. Pedersen had been invited to join the Basie band when he was only seventeen. Catherine had been on the road for ages in Europe, traveling with Chet Baker. Nevertheless, they had their weaknesses, and I was pleased to find that they closely resembled mine.

“So many great songs,” one of us sighed.

“Yes, I have a soft spot for Emily,” I said.

“Mercer and Mandel,” Philip said. “Nice.”

“I had it by Tony Bennett, years ago,” I said.

“I was backing Tony Bennett at a club one night,” Niels said. “The show was being taped and for some reason he was not allowed to record it at that session. Some sort of contract thing. But Tony left the recording mic and went right to the front of the stage and sang Emily to the audience, and they loved it. It’s a beautiful song.”

There was silence. Three middle-aged men sat dreaming about what is manifestly ur-schmaltz. Someone hummed a few notes, quietly. Brows wrinkled, eyes emptied, we each nodded a gentle nod, sagaciously.

“When Joanna Loved Me, is also great by Bennett,” I ventured. I didn’t have the courage to tell them how much I liked Friendly Persuasion, a Pat Boon hit.

It is always revealing to be with people of tremendous talent or sensitivity. I spent some time with Heinrich Harrer, the author of Seven Years in Tibet. We got on well together, possibly because he liked the British. We worked together translating one of his books on mountaineering. One day he asked me, “Lawrence, how can you write about mountaineering when you are not a mountaineer?” I am afraid my answer was somewhat glib, “Heinrich, I do not need to get shot to know that bullets hurt.”

There may, or may not, be a lack of humor to be found among people of talent, but underlying everything is often a seriousness that can be felt because they have found their purpose in life. They are doing what they are supposed to be doing. This makes the seriousness more a matter of quiet, of steadiness. Triviality doesn’t come into it.

            Pity the poor writer. But this writer has been given the grace to be at peace with writing. Vienna, again. It is a city made almost silent by a hush-quiet fall of snow. In the Hotel Sacher café, the waiter approaches so inaudibly his presence is first felt; you then check instinctively for shoes. Outside on the sidewalk, a bunch of Krishna people dance by, their pale pure faces raised to the sky, a hop-shuffle dance from Krishna to Rama, abandonment to an Asian rumba.

I recently read something of Shaker philosophy, which went, “Never make anything unless it is needed and useful, and if it is useful and needed don’t hesitate to make it beautiful.”

Something inside rises to beauty. Then the quiet mind permits appreciation. Excitement doesn’t come into it.

Literature & Languages

Articles

While Fethullah Gulen is revered by many for his authority as a scholar and for his achievements in education and intercultural dialogue, his views on language should earn him equal renown as a philosopher of language. Linguistics offers an analysis of a language’s system – its structure, sounds, grammar, and semantics – but the philosophy of language describes the way language creates meaning. Gulen is anchored in the optimistic tradition of the philosophy of language that establishes the relationship between language, belief, truth, and the meaning of life.

Gulen draws insights on the nature of language from the Qur’an. For Gulen, God has created with a purpose; such is also true of language. He echoes the Qur’an in this sense, in which glad tidings of paradise are given to believers who, “will hear therein neither vain talk nor falsehood” (78:35). In Gulen’s writings there is always a conscious effort to awaken in his audience an awareness of our relationship to God and of our duties towards humanity and the world.

He writes that his concept of “speech” is an effort to expound on the following verse in the Qur’an: “The All-Merciful. He has taught the Qur’an. He has created the human. He has taught him speech” (Rahman 55:1–4). In his book Speech and Power of Expression, Gulen writes, “In creating humankind, the Most Merciful gave us the ability to speak of the human essence, our inner depths, the entire cosmos, and the truth beyond material existence before sending us to the dimension of external existence” (p. 1)

The “Referential paradigm of language” that was an offshoot of Positivism’s exclusive reliance upon rationalism and science looks at language as an empirical object of investigation only and limits meaning to the word-object relation only, reducing reality to mere physical phenomenon that can be quantitatively measured and explained (Medina, 2005:40). However, Gulen writes that language is not only a tool for describing facts and performing vocative functions – it also defines and constitutes our humanity. It “gives voice to our thoughts, it is the rhythm of our feelings, and the excitement of our hearts; it is the interpreter in our communication with God Almighty. Language is a reflection of the Divine Archetype and is the repository of divine knowledge. By virtue of the faculty of language, humankind has been elevated to the rank of vicegerent on this earth” (p. 8).

In this sense, Gulen argues that language not only reveals and expresses the Divine and the Transcendental; it can also establish a relation between the Creator and the created. Gulen writes, “It is through speech that human beings have become the addressee of God and it is thanks to this faculty that they can address Him” (p. 1).

This constructive and creative view of language is a counter to the extreme form of postmodern philosophy of language that presents a pessimistic view of language, denies the divine origin of language, and reduces language to empty signs and elusive images – turns it into chimeras unanchored in any reality or purpose or meaning. This reductive view of language that looks at texts as auto-referential only turns language into a closed system of self-referring signs that endlessly defer meaning. The result is nihilism, solipsism, and the coarsening of the values that define our humanity. Virtues like duty, love, sacrifice, and the idea of the sacred are dismissed as mere linguistic projections.

Gulen, on the other hand, presents an optimistic view of language and writes, “By means of the faculty of speech bestowed in our nature, the facility has been afforded for humans to express and interpret everything at their discretion… Speech is an instrument by way of which truth is acknowledged as the highest reality and all beings become a musical instrument as if in a symphony, thereby removing the veil over things, enabling them to express themselves” (p. 2).

The “Luciferan thrust” of Postmodernism dismisses the ideals of beauty, sacredness, duty, sacrifice, the truth of the heart, and virtue as mere flattering words that mask and hide selfish motives. Freud dismissed the idea of the sacred as “infantile fantasy,” the hangover of the primitive mind, and Karl Marx described religion as the opiate for the masses. The result is a shuddering collapse of all the values that define our humanity, reducing the universe to a “Wasteland,” a “Flatland” inhabited by alienated, depressed “hollow men” who can “connect nothing with nothing.”

But Gulen does not look at beautiful language as mere simulacrum, as empty of meaning. In his account, language is “one of the most precious of gifts” from God, and words are underpinned by ideas and values. Language can inculcate moral values. There is a relationship between language, belief, meaning, and understanding. Language nourishes our aspirations, which arise from “our distinctive foundational essence”; language lends a wing “to our ideals” and takes “their feet off the ground to the heavens”; lifting us to “the upper reaches of a spiritual ascension and preparing for us thrones in realms beyond the material world.” Gulen repeatedly highlights the higher spiritual function of language. He says, “Responding to our desire for eternity, speech enriches our feelings in an indescribable manner and gives our souls a depth that cannot be bound by the dimensions of corporeality” (p. 7-8).

The reductive and degrading views of human nature put forth by the pseudo prophets of modernity, who define the essence of humanity in terms of libido, monetary profit, or class struggle, cannot explain how good literature stirs the soul and uplifts the heart. According to Gulen, literature that wells from, and voices what is in, our hearts will always remind us of the Divinity that was breathed into human beings and forms the quintessence of humanity. The constructive use of language is like “a strong gust” of wind that lifts people up “in the sky where kites wander,” “and they enjoy the freedom and ease of a bird taking wing in the spacious sky…they experience constant transformations and perceive the magnificence of transcendent life through the colorful dimensions of speech…” (p. 6).

Gulen cites the Holy Qur’an as an excellent example of the zenith of language that has an immense depth of meaning, and whose “voice is heard beyond ramparts and echoes in even the most obstinate and bigoted of hearts. There is such dazzling magic in the presentation of its themes that it is impossible not to be impressed upon hearing it.”

According to Gulen, language that embeds lofty ideals and noble goals “is as expansive as the skies, as full of vigor as the earth, as lustrous as silk, and as comforting as a mother’s embrace. It articulates to us the glory of our faith, the riches of our society, the purity and integrity of our fellow companions, the struggle of our ancestors, and our values that make us unique. Good speech that originates directly from, and voices what is in, our hearts will always remind us of our Divine origin. To the extent of the sacredness of its color, wealth, and goals, good speech will echo in our hearts like celestial voices providing us with proofs of its origin” (p. 8).

Western literary theory and Positivist epistemology support each other in looking at literature as auto-referential; they view literature as self-reflexive and not referring to any meaning outside it. It is parasitic and, in the words of the French poet Valery, it is like a dance that leads nowhere.

On the other hand, Gulen establishes a relationship between literature and axiology. He says that literature not only describes and creates beauty, it also tells us about our relationship to life and the purpose of life. He rejects the concept of Art for the sake of Art, which is exclusively concerned with creating elegance of form only.

Equally emphatic is his rejection of naturalism in literature that, in the name of realism, puts the emphasis on the sordid, mean, and brutal aspects of life. He advises that literary people should “put their language skills and artistic talents at the service of the right, good, and beautiful, instead of hurting the souls of the masses…by describing what is corrupt, or contaminating people’s pure thoughts with dirty images, and condemning them to the slavery of materialism with descriptions of carnal desires” (p. 15-16).

Gulen exhorts artists to take the prophets and writers of Sufi literature as role models, because all of them have, “acted in cooperation and are united in building prosperous cities from speech, weaving lace from the silken threads of language, and stringing exquisite necklaces with the jewels of words” (p. 5).

Language is an instrument given exclusively to humankind. It has tremendous power and can perform diverse and contradictory functions. In this context, Gulen quotes a hadith that says that a believer must guard his speech because it can be equally used as a remedy and as a weapon. The range of its power can extend in opposite directions: it can revive and kill, establish peace and start war, disclose and hide, liberate and imprison, construct and destroy, exaggerate and downplay. It is therefore necessary to keep watch that one’s language is not misused. When the use of language is yoked to an agenda of self-aggrandisement, or the acquisition of power or monetary profit, it is severed from its divine purpose of pursuing Truth and serving humanity. It degenerates into the rhetoric of hatred and misrepresentation, and generated suspicion, deception, competition and aggression. It becomes an instrument of manipulation and exploitation. Gulen emphasises that we need to use language in a constructive way. He argues for promoting interfaith and intercultural dialogue, because language has tremendous power to make people understand others and to change their perception. It can persuade people to work for peace. It is, in the words of Gulen, “the sword of humankind,” and, “wherever the flag of speech waves, the most powerful armies are defeated and scattered. In the arenas in which speech shouts out, the sounds of cannon balls become like the buzzing of bees. From behind the battlements on which the banner of speech has been raised, the sound of its drums are heard. In the precincts where its march reverberates, kings shake in their boots” (p. 2).

Good speech influences people to make the best of their potential, removes misunderstandings and false consciousness, helps them expand tolerance and promote cooperation, encourages collaboration, and establishes peace. Gulen expresses the educative value of language in these words, “foxes take their leave of deception, and lions are terrified, seeking shelter in their dens.” No “combatant has ever possessed a weapon mightier than speech” (p. 5).

Cognitive linguistics postulates that language is inseparable from thought, and Gulen writes, “Speech is the key that opens the locks on the doors of the treasury of thought” (p. 2). As the famous linguist Wittgenstein said, “My world ends where my language ends.” In Gulen’s view, since language is intertwined with thought, it should be developed and enriched to empower a nation intellectually and morally. He notes and cautions that nations which do not think and speak become dependent on others: “Societies which do not think and speak will find others speak and think on their behalf” (p. 18). Imported views estrange us from our own rich heritage. It is of supreme importance for a nation to be respectful towards the history of its language.

However, language has to go beyond historical value and respond positively to every positive new development. For, as Gulen says, “reaching out to the future at full speed requires catching up with industrialization, global commerce, and technological warehouses.” If language and thought, both living phenomena, do not evolve with the times, they will become stagnant, as solidified as rock, and will lose their soul. Nations that can manage to develop their language and make it accommodating, while at the same time staying faithful to the roots of it, are the most dynamic in thought and influence.

Language can serve both genealogical and teleological functions. As a symbol making activity, language not only embodies, but also preserves, all of our core values and cognitive and intellectual reserves. It also renews our link with our origins and traditional heritage. With its new developments and transformations, language looks to the future – just as our heritage of wisdom, ethics, and ideals can give direction to future, too.

Gulen compares the teleological function of language to a “golden-winged turtledove released by our hopes to the future” (p. 8). The core values of every society are embedded in the symbols of its language. Gulen argues, “Language is not only a means of speech and thought; it is a bridge with the significant function of bringing the wealth of the past to our day and conveying today’s heritage and our new compositions to the future” (p. 17).

Language is an important tool for humankind in our efforts to better understand the cosmos and events both holistically and analytically. The relationship between language and thought comprises cognitive and intellectual reflections on existence and events, transforming these reflections into sources of information, and becoming productive while forming links between the cosmos and our knowledge. The future prospects of a nation are very much dependent on evaluating these relationships. Language is one of the fundamental dynamics in the composition of a culture. We should not cast everything that is old into oblivion, nor turn our face to the past and close our doors to what is new. Let us embrace the past with the utmost sincerity and at the same time salute the coming days with their open, new developments and transformations.

I will conclude with summing up Gulen’s message – Let us use language as a bridge between different cultures and religions to establish peace. Let us use language as a beacon house to illuminate minds and souls, and as a bond to bring people together on the basis of shared human values: compassion, tolerance, harmony, and peace.

References

• Gulen, M. Fethullah. 2010. Speech and Power of Expression: On Language, Esthetics, and Belief, NJ: Tughra Books.
• Medina, Jose. 2005. Language: Key Concepts in Philosophy, Continuum.

All health issues are best understood and treated with a combination of biological, psychological, and social factors rather than with purely biological means. This context entails thoughts, emotions, behaviors, social factors, and environment, all of which play significant roles in human functioning and overall health. Therefore, it is important to gather input from all aspects of an individuals’ life to get better insight into depression.

Many people use the word “depression” to explain the feeling of sorrow, but depression is much more than just sadness. Sadness is a normal reaction to life’s struggles, setbacks, and disappointments. However, depressed people don’t feel sad—they may feel lifeless, empty, apathetic, and hopeless. Depression starts with just a feeling and then manifests in physical behaviors. The feeling of helplessness, hopelessness, and worthlessness are intense and unrelenting. An unwanted complication of depression is suicide, which in fact has a higher rate than homicides in the US (1).

Hopelessness is the main indicator leading to suicide, a trapped pattern of thinking where individuals believe things will never get better. The deep despair and hopelessness that accompanies depression can make suicide seem like the only way to escape from the overwhelming circumstances. Therefore, suicidal thoughts must be considered as a cry for help and dealt with accordingly.

Psychosocial context appears to be the commonly associated culprit that may predispose people to depression instead of genetic predisposition and other secondary etiologic factors. Depression in the psychosocial context is related to a person’s perception of daily events. A specific event in a person’s life can trigger the beginning of a vicious cycle. Examples could include: changes in occupation, loss of a loved one, etc.

Modesty

In addition to hopelessness, avarice can lead to depression because it contributes to dissatisfaction, disappointment, and loss of sincerity. Sometimes, the lack of material goods can make a person happier than having them. Jealously chasing material things that others have can lead a person into depression. For example, the ancient philosopher Plato was wise but not wealthy; despite his lack of money he was content with his life. One day, as he was passing by a spring, he noticed a boy drinking water with his hands. The average person, having witnessed this, would give the child a cup, but Plato asked himself if the cup is even needed. If you focus on what you do not have, you will always be disappointed. Actually focusing on what you need in the present time can decrease the damage one incurs from his or her problems. The child was thirsty and he only needed water, so the cup was unnecessary.

If a person is only concerned with his or her own situation and not noticing the condition of those around them, it can turn trivial problems into mountains. By comparing one’s own problems with greater problems of others, the person can get a more accurate perspective. Though a person’s burden may appear unbearable, God has created each person with the ability to handle these burdens. It is recommended to keep hope by exercising patience and concerning yourself with the present condition rather than bringing problems up from the past or worrying about the future. The patience given to human beings is sufficient to all types of difficulties, unless used inappropriately to obsess about what already happened in the past or to worry about distant future.

Never lose hope

As shown in Table Figure 1, The American Psychiatric Association (APA) has established the universal criteria for health professionals to diagnose depression. According to The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders IV (DSM IV) criteria, physicians diagnose an individual as having depression, which is further classified as minor or major in terms of the severity of the symptoms (2).

Hopelessness deserves special concern because it often triggers the other symptoms which may eventually lead to inertia.

Belief and prayer have found to be extremely helpful in combatting hopelessness by keeping hopes high. This can help to prevent serious depression or even suicide, for even in the most difficult times, belief can allow a person to stand firm with the conviction that even a single leaf would not drop without God’s knowledge. The Qur’an states: “Say (God gives you hope): ‘O My servants who have been wasteful (of their God-given opportunities and faculties) against (the good of) their own souls! Do not despair of God’s Mercy. Surely God forgives all sins. He is indeed the All-Forgiving, the All-Compassionate’” (The Qur’an 39.53).

The Bible echoes a similar tone when it says, “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us (Psalm 103, 8-12).

What does the literature say about belief?

A survey revealed the fact that 82% of Americans believe that prayer can cure serious illness, 73% believe that praying for others can cure illness, and 64% want their physicians to pray with them. Health professionals – especially doctors and nurses – should be aware of the spiritual needs of their patients, should be familiar with literature on the effectiveness of prayer, and should integrate it into their comprehensive care plans (3).

From the biological perspective, as shown in Figure 2, symptoms and signs of depression shown in Figure 1 occur as a result of the change in the level of neurotransmitters – namely serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine. Today, pharmacological interventions to heal depression are mainly provided by drugs. These regulate the levels of the neurotransmitters. There aren’t many scientific studies focusing on depressing and religion, however McCullough’s review of literature clearly states that “People with high levels of general religious involvement, organizational religious involvement, religious salience, and intrinsic religious motivation are at reduced risk for depressive symptoms and depressive disorders” (4).

In conclusion, depression may arise from the lack of staying active. In order to keep away from the negative thoughts which serve as a starting point for depression’s vicious circle, praying and seeking help from the All-Knowing, All-Wise serves as a shelter from the negative feelings of temporary worldly troubles. Praying may provide a protection against negative thoughts that may arise from an external or internal source, eventually leading to a distortion of healthy thinking.

Subjective healing and improvement in health after praying, psychological therapy, and family and social support may stimulate some neurotransmitters, though this needs to be further clarified by comprehensive studies (5). However, even simple words may have an impact on the mood of any individual. Hearing a compliment may cause a smile, or receiving a phone call giving a bad news might cause sadness. How could sincerely pouring one’s heart out to the All-Knowing not reverberate from His eternal source into the body, even if the circumstances appear overwhelming?

Mucteba Muezzinoglu is a freelance currently living in Illinois, US.

Nate Emru is a Mental Health Counselor in Indianapolis, Indiana, US.

References

1. Further information is available at http://www.sprc.org/basics/about-suicide. Reached in April 25.
2. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). American Psychiatric Association provides a common language and standard criteria for the classification of mental disorders.
3. Ameling A. 2000. “Prayer: an ancient healing practice becomes new again.” Holist Nurs Pract. Apr;14(3):40-8.
4. McCullough ME, Larson DB. 1999. “Religion and depression: a review of the literature.” Twin Res. Jun;2(2):126-36.
5. National Institute of Mental Health. What medications are used to treat depression? Reached from the website. http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/mental-health-medications/complete-index.shtml#pub5

In his The Death of Criticism, Terry Eagleton spoke of the rude shock a clerk in his office might experience if she stumbled upon the thought that her boss is actually paid, and paid very well for that matter, for just reading poetry and prose. If she realises this, and perhaps begins to make noise about it, the authorities might again realise that, indeed, they might be wasting money on a venture that has no purpose. If they were to realise this, it would mean the death of criticism.

Terry Eagleton chose this anecdote to show how people might view literary education as an exercise in futility because, as Edward Said demonstrated in his Orientalism, literature or the cultural realm, and its expertise, seem institutionally divorced from their real connection with power (see Said, 2003: 2-3). In fact, what Said wanted to say was that literary education should be taken very seriously, because it contained things needed to build a man or woman for social change. In other words, as earlier mentioned in the abstract, texts contain macro and micro types of information; if these are properly harnessed and transformed, they have the capacity to change our world.

We derive an extraordinary amount of information from texts – information about politics and history, sociology and psychology. A great deal of information is available in texts, but it also demands transformation into knowledge. It is at this stage that information transformed to knowledge becomes power. This power that the individual – that is, the scholar of literature – possesses is actually a cognitive state he has attained that makes it possible for him or her to become a better person or a bad person. This state must, however, be made concrete and practical through the application of the knowledge gained, which has actually made him or her powerful.

Thesis

The ability of the scholar or critic of literature to become a mediator in Conflict Resolution is only one aspect of his or her method of making his knowledge practical. He or she may decide to apply his or her knowledge, for it has become a source of power for him or her in fighting against oppression and injustice. He or she may decide to go into party politics and seek elected office as a way to improve the lives of others. Or, he or she may even begin to apply words to paper – that is, to become a writer. The fact of a writer being a person who is making his or her knowledge practical or functional lies in the fact that, first of all, he or she has a reason for wanting to write –what the Marxist critics would call authorial intention in writing: if the writer is not trying to reform a morbid psyche, he or she might intend to teach or raise issues about a condition that he or she thinks needs to change. They could even inspire a revolution. They might decide to report events as well as ensure that people become informed, because it is in being informed about something that makes change become inevitable.

Today, Nigerians are faced with the challenges of insecurity occasioned by religious extremism that borders on terrorism. This extremism is based on the misappropriation of scriptural injunctions. They are used – through a medley of religious, political, and ethnic reasons – to justify the actions of extremists.

The chaotic state of Nigeria’s present could be compared to the situation of Victorian England, where the progress made in science and technology brought man to the brink of apostasy. The fact that science could not verify the existence of God led many to trust solely in the proven capacity of the human mind. The German philologist and philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche boldly declared, in his fictional work Thus Spoke Zoroaster or Also Sprach Zarathustra, that “God was dead … that He died in his pity with humanity” (see Nietzsche as translated by Hollingdale,1975: 114). The Godlessness of the age, as well as the doubt cast upon the divine authority of the Church, led Mathew Arnold to propose in his Literature and Dogma (2002) the need for Literature to take the place of religion (see Arnold). This he thought was possible because in his Culture and Anarchy (2004), his social criticism and his own way of defining Humanism, literature is the carrier of culture. His humanism consists of getting rid of ignorance, narrow-mindedness, and prejudice; it is defined by a continuous quest for the ideal. Therefore, in his Literature and Dogma (2002), he argues that sacred texts should be read as literature because values and morals are derived from them, and as such, they contained things to make us better people. In other words, people should read sacred texts whether or not the existence of God is verifiable or not, because reading them will eventually make them men of culture, or people who have overcome their ignorance, prejudice, narrow-mindedness and continually pursue the ideal of perfection.

By implication, therefore, literature must rescue religious bigots. As George Gordon, the early Professor of English Literature said, “England is sick and … English Literature must save it. The Churches (as I understand) having failed, and social remedies being slow, English literature now has a triple function: still, I suppose to delight and instruct us, but also, and above all, to save our souls and heal the state.” Rephrased one may say: Nigeria is sick and literature must save it. Our religions have faltered, and social remedies have been slow; thus literature must now not only delight us, but also instruct us, heal the state, and save our souls.

Recently, the Federal Government of Nigeria had shown interest in getting to the root causes of religious extremism among Muslims in Nigeria. The Almajiri factor has been identified as one of the causes of religious extremism in Nigeria. Somehow, they have decided that the high rate of poverty and ignorance among some individuals or Almajiris in the North, whose condition was precipitated by certain perceptions and beliefs, caused the frustration that led to this cataclysmic turn of events in Nigeria. The federal government is thinking of rehabilitating these individuals through education. Now the question is: what type of education do these people need? What type of culture will the education teach them? Education liberates the mind – especially good education in the humanities. Vocational education will no doubt teach them practical skills, which could help them in creating employment for themselves; however, for their ignorance to be conquered, for their minds to be liberated, for them to become truly free and genuine human beings, who will harness the potentialities of their mental faculties, and who will make their knowledge functional and applicable, they need the type of education that will make them become men and women of culture. They should be exposed to the transformational effect of knowledge. Their education should be such that occurred in the Renaissance and Reformation in Europe (see Johnson, 2001:44), where literary humanism and a method of careful approach to textual issues evolved. Like a humanist, they should be encouraged to look at things objectively, to value the power of reason without necessarily rejecting the Godhead, to question the origins, authenticity, and credentials of texts – even sacred texts – to practice rational Islamism and see whether it is possible to evolve Islamic humanism, which has taken root in countries like Turkey, where the great Islamic scholar, Fethullah Gϋlen has emerged as a force for love and peace(see Gϋlen, 2010:31). They should be bombarded with literary texts of various shades, simplified if need be, so as to promote sympathy and camaraderie among them; literature should be made to train them in the habits of pluralistic thought and feeling, persuading them to acknowledge that more than their viewpoint exists…(see Eagleton, 2008:22).

Ile, Onyebuchi James is the Head of the Department of English Language and Literature, Nigerian Turkish Nile University.

References

• Arnold, Matthew. 2004. Culture and Anarchy. London: Neeland Media.
• ——. 2002. Literature and Dogma. London: Fredonia Books.
• Eagleton, Terry. 2008. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.
• Gϋlen, M. Fethullah. 2010. Speech and Power of Expression: On Language, Esthetics, and Belief. (translated by Korkut Altay) New Jersey: Tughra Books.
• Johnson, Paul. 2001. The Renaissance. London: Phoenix Press.
• Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1975. Thus Spoke Zarathustra (translated by Hollingdale, R.J.) Middlesex: Penguin Books Ltd.
• Said, Edward. Orientalism. London: Penguin Books, 2003.

Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Polkinghorne are our guests in Matter & Beyond this issue. Professor Tucker from Yale University correlates the spiritual crisis we face in modern times with the ecological crisis on the Earth. Tucker says we are obsessed with economic growth and this preoccupation is creating a number of different types of alienation, sadness, even addictions, because the emptiness of modern consumer life is suffocating the human soul. Polkinghorne, a Fellow of the Royal Society and the former President of Queens’ College, Cambridge, says that science does not tell us the whole story. For him science “needs supplementation by other forms of insight.” Further, he emphasizes how valuable we humans are when he says, “Obviously on the scale of the universe, we are very tiny creatures, and we inhabit a planet that is just a speck of dust, really in the great universe, but we are greater than all the stars because we know them and ourselves, and they know nothing.”

Each day new innovations in science and technology are introduced into our lives. It is often debatable whether scientific research is conducted for the sake of science to fulfill a human need, or if it is manipulated in a way to boost a consumerist economy by shoveling new products onto the market every day. Still, there are interesting findings and discoveries we can learn from the mass media and journals, which will inspire us each time with an appreciation of the glorious harmony found in the universe. Aiming to be a source of inspiration for those readers who seek knowledge through perceiving this harmony, The Fountain is launching Science Square, a new section which will feature a brief account of some of the most interesting scientific news, compiled from recently released papers and reviews. Proceed to the department and see how running barefoot is less damaging than running with shoes, see how pure water can remain liquid at temperatures down to –40 C, how cancer-causing DNA mutations are deciphered, and how scientists are inspired by the spider web.

Moving on from that relation, I would like to open a small window onto the meaning of literature as I understand it. However, I must first beg that my readers pardon my humble statements on a subject that is in fact beyond my ability, and that they judge this essay not on how it stands, but for the good intentions with which it was written. I should confess that just as I and people like me with narrow horizons cannot judge matters even in our own field properly, so too is it very difficult for us to express other matters very clearly, even when we may have judged them correctly. And I think this is generally true of all who tackle this topic. For instance, after Imam Shafii had personally corrected his book Kitab al-Umm, and afterwards still others had repeatedly corrected it, he found that certain points still bothered him. He raised his hands to God and admitted that no book can be faultless, except for divine revelations.

Even the enchanting states inspired by the most magnificent pieces of writing, the greatest works of art, the most eloquent words, and the most dazzling conceptions which are not based on divine speech and are not illumined with the shining of His light have a completely relative beauty. And even if they hold any value in terms of being a reflection or an echo of the beauties He possesses, they can hold absolutely no individual value of their own.

Nevertheless, this reality should never dishearten us or paralyze our determination to work. We should always think, speak, plan, try to realize what we have planned, and while doing all this, we should never forget that we can occasionally make mistakes, that very often we can fall into error. This is natural; as soon as we recognize them, we will correct them, try to compensate for our shortcomings and stick to seeking the best possible alternative. Our decisions may not always be accurate, but we will try to fulfill what divine wisdom requires of us by implementing our human capacity for understanding and judgment (ijtihad).

So these humble contemplations must be seen in the same way. Speech was born with humanity, developed with humanity, and it constitutes a very significant depth of being human. So speech reached its contemporary level of maturity through history after having been repeatedly distilled through countless filters of thought and fashioned by masters of words, and then became what we now call literature. In this respect, it can be argued that the present moment of literature is brighter than its past, thus it can also be said that so too its future will be brighter than the present, or at least it should be so. As Said Nursi explains, human beings will eventually turn completely toward knowledge (ilm) so that they will derive their power from knowledge. As a result the ultimate say will pass into the hands of knowledge. At the stage when knowledge shows such a level of development, the command of language and eloquence, reaching its peak, will outweigh all other values. Possibly, in such a period, in order to make others accept their ideas, people will use language as a weapon, try to penetrate hearts through their facility with language and conquer souls with the charm of literature.

The reality of knowledge and speech manifested only concisely in Adam and it reached its most brilliant form with the Final Prophet, yielded its awaited fruit, and became fully realized in the Qur’an. Now, if the world is going to last any longer, in the years ahead, while knowledge reaches its peak, language too will rise to the rank of the interpreter of knowledge in almost all circles, accompanied by the most powerful of orators and richest of speeches voicing the truth.

The power of expression, which is always nourished and develops in the bosom of need and necessity, will flourish in this environment for one last time, make its voice heard as powerfully as it can. If you will, you could also say this will be the reliving of the Age of the Qur’an in its most mature state, an Age of the Qur’an where love of truth and love of knowledge, where zeal to understand and passion to explain, where human values and their appreciation will live alongside one another. Incidentally, I would like to underline one point: future architects of thought and masters of language should do whatever they can to protect and honor the power of expression, for it has fallen into the incapable hands of people like us. They should untie its tongue, so that it can voice our own world of thoughts. Otherwise, it is obvious that we will keep on hearing the cawing of crows where we expect to hear the singing of nightingales; we will not be able to be free of the distress of thorns on the way to roses.

The power of speech and refinement of eloquence have always developed, found its proper consistency, and come to maturity in the realm of literature and under the tutelage of literary thought. However, it is also very important what we understand-or we are supposed to understand-when literary thought or literature is mentioned.

Human beings have always expressed their feelings, thoughts, and the inspirations of their heart through cinema, theatre, and symbolic painting, along with oral or written literature. When the subject extends beyond spoken or written language, naturally gesture, facial expression, sounds and other means replace words and sentences. Even so, they have never been able to truly substitute for speech and writing. The most reliable way for a people to preserve their literature and make it flourish in its own framework and fertile ground is to put it into a written form. This turns it into a common source to which individuals may refer to at any time. It allows it to become as widely accessible as possible, paving the way for it to become the national style of an entire society, the nation’s shared property. It thus becomes a field of exposition for future generations, an exhibition ground of verbal excellence, and a trust to the common conscience, guarded by national memory and perpetuating its own origin.

In this respect, we have always sought literature in the magical world of written or spoken words and always realized our acquaintance and encounters with it among the pages of books and magazines. Whatever style is adopted in recounting a given subject – whether the work produced is approached with an artistic concern or expressed in a plain style, whether a small, select audience is targeted or large crowds are addressed – when literature is mentioned, what comes first to mind is the written word.

It does not make any difference whether the subject of a piece of literature is religion, an idea, philosophy, or doctrine; literature is one of the most important ways that humans can transfer the accumulation of knowledge they have gained through history from one generation to another. Through it they can sense all the depths and richness of yesterday in the present. They see the past and present as two dimensions of reality, and savor the future in its relative depth.

Furthermore, believers should firstly be faithful to their heritage and refer to it frequently, as much as they embrace universal human values. They should emphasize the essence of their common conscience and take it as an essential constituent. They should use this heritage as the canvas for the embroidery in which they depict their literary feelings and understanding of art, so that they do not destroy the spirit of their own literature, and are not constrained solely to foreign borrowings. If they use their own sources and weave their own cultural values on their own loom, there does not seem to be an obstacle to their progress, and they can walk to universality carrying the interpretations of their own time.

Believers should place the main sources of belief, cultural heritage and memory of universal values, in the center of their lives. Thus after having secured themselves from deviation, believers should strive to establish connections with the outside world; remaining indifferent to others’ values restricts what is normally broad and universal, is an obstruction to growth, causing agony for the living, and falling from the degree of being envied to a state of envying others; the condition of Third-world countries today presents so many living examples of that.

These countries always go through a period of standstill in their literature, sometimes due to customs, sometimes because of the influence of local understandings, and sometimes due to a fear of self-alienation-which can be empathized to a certain extent. Approaching literature liberally to a large degree ceased due to excessive reactions; some very important sources of inspiration were dried up, and efforts to enrich literature were perceived as fantasy and subsequently dismissed. Moreover, the field of literature was further narrowed at certain times by favoring a region or dialect at the expense of other varieties of the language; the branches with potential to develop were cut off and the roots were removed by prohibiting the field of literature from being ploughed. Thus, in such countries, the development of a language that may have been more representative of the wider society was prevented, and instead a dialect on the margins has been preferred over others, and as a result their literature was reduced to the voice of a small minority rather than becoming a respectable representative of literature in the world. This can also be called surrendering to oblivion.

In fact, what becomes dormant, stops growing, and what is not open to developing withers. Whatever is static then topples over. And that which does not give fruit dies. This is not limited to literature; it is true for almost every subject, from religion to thought, from art to philosophy.

Nevertheless, literature does not simply mean playing on words with written or spoken language skills and producing phrases people will like; it means making the art of expression lovable with the dimensions of eloquence and clarity. It is the water and air of feeding, adorning, and enriching daily language with the cleanest, purest, most lovable, and lasting material, and it is a treasure which increases with use.

A writer of verse or prose who pens his or her thoughts with literary considerations always relies upon a purpose and overtone; using a rich vocabulary, harmonious statements, and a grand style, writers activate words, long and short, aiming for excellence of expression. While moving toward this aim, writers place all the words or sentences they have picked and fitted in their places in such a way that they all sound out like notes serving to support the general theme of the tune they play. As these sounds and notes voice their intended ideal, they continue to play in the background, reflecting the author’s mode of thinking, general tendencies and mood.

In a lyric verse, produced by a master of expression the words, feel as if they are filled with that person’s excitement. The words, sentences, or lines, springing from a literary heart kindled with epic feelings, ring in our ears like the march of a glorious army. All the words in a masterfully written drama resonate in the depths of our soul and almost bring to life the story therein. A literary person is able to think very differently and reach different judgments; writers always pursue quality and strive to leave future generations a legacy they will gladly inherit and respect.

Actually, like literary language, daily language also has its own kind of beauty, ease, allure, and naturalness that entices pure pleasure. However, literary language is poetic, musical, and constructs a pleasing whole in harmony with the meanings it holds. It is superior in linguistic utilization, taste, and refinement in the way that demonstrates coherence within the text as a whole and cohesion between words and sentences. Let alone feeling and savoring these, it is sometimes very difficult for people who lack the aptitude to even understand them.

All that notwithstanding, it is not correct to regard literary style as the language of an upper class or an aristocratic group. On the contrary, even if they cannot penetrate as far as the secondary meanings and connotations suggested by the composition, people of every level should somehow be able to understand, and they should be able to benefit from that source, even if only in a limited way. Thus, in time they will be elevated to a level where they can express their feelings and thoughts more comfortably and gain greater language skills through the expansion of their knowledge. In the meantime, they will consolidate what they already know of language, enrich it by making suitable contributions as far as they can, and add new depths to their horizons of thought.

No matter at what level, the language almost all of us speak today, which has quietly settled in our memories through generations, is to a great extent the fruit of master poets’ and writers’ concerted efforts that have been adopted by our souls. With the sensitivity of a goldsmith, these masters of expression presented us with the beautiful jewels of expression and necklaces of words that they prepared; thanks to their legacy, we express ourselves through this rich resource to the best of our abilities. Even though not everybody understands the magnificent works they produced and the aesthetic depth in the spirit of those works, all of us have always appreciated them and felt eager for more. For such a level of appreciation one does not need to know the writer’s artistic anxiety, power to construct, mental strain, success in planning, nor his or her true value to the extent a skilful goldsmith knows the precious stones.

People have always held the literary artists in high regard, certainly with exceptions. They have applauded these people’s efforts, appreciated their labor, and frequently expressed this appreciation by imitating them. Then what falls to literary people is that they put their language skills and artistic talents at the service of the right, good, and beautiful, instead of hurting the souls of the masses-who can be regarded as their apprentices-by describing what is corrupt, or contaminating people’s pure thoughts with dirty images, and condemning them to the slavery of materialism with descriptions of carnal desires. According to Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, people of letters need to have high morals and act within the universal codes of conduct prescribed in divine scriptures. He also reminds us of the divine source where the “power of expression” originates from and advises us to duly respect this capacity, which is regarded as an important depth of our humanity.

Literary styles of expression are different than other styles. For example, in scientific writing or speech it is essential to have a sound pattern of reasoning, a systematic thought, well-versed statements, and no mental, logical, and emotional gaps should be left unfilled. Oratory style emphasizes proofs and arguments, maintaining interest and enthusiasm, making occasional repetitions, supporting the narration with paraphrases when necessary, using colorful expression, and enlivening the speech by inspirational shifts without detracting from the main axis. On the other hand, literary style requires a variety of linguistic arts, such as vividness of expression, accuracy of language, beauty of presentation, richness of imagination, the utilization of metaphors, parables, idioms, figures of speech, and allusions-as long as it does not reach the point of excess. Because excess will spoil-as in everything else-the naturalness of language and muddy the heavenly spring of expression, people of sound taste will mostly find it strange. As Said Nursi also expressed, the wording should be as ornate as the nature of the meaning allows. Form should follow content, and while it is being crafted, permission for literary license should be requested from the meaning in order to avoid excess. The brightness and resplendence of style should be given proper due, but the aim and intended meaning should never be neglected. The imagination should be given room to maneuver, but not at the cost of the Truth.

There are books that I have always kept within arm’s reach on my desk-books that I have enjoyed rereading over and over again, and from which I draw the strength, joy and peace of the heart. Many of the selections from the Mathnawi-the magnum opus of Rumi, the world-famous Sufi master and poetic genius-included in Tales from Rumi, were the first of his stories that I read in Turkish many years ago. Going back as far as I can remember, I was aware that I was reading stories from the celebrated Rumi, who lived and died centuries ago in the Seljuk Turks’ capital of Konya in the heart of Anatolia. Yet, I had no idea then that I was in touch with “world literature.”

I never thought that I was not reading the Mathnawi stories in their original language; instead, I read them in an abridged version in modern Turkish-a book that greatly broadened my perception of the world. I do not think that any of my peers had the language skills to read the original Persian, or even Ottoman Turkish, versions of the Mathnawi. Indeed, many of the world’s literary masterpieces are not read or offered in their original language, and except for a small subset of world literature, most works are unknown outside of their culture. Moreover, when they are translated and read beyond the author’s environment, they require so much local knowledge to be understood that they lose their flavor.

However, Rumi is one of the rare literary figures whose works have circulated beyond their culture of origin, either in translation or in their original language. Now, there are a substantial number of his works that are available in many languages. The Tughra Books has recently published Tales from Rumi, a selection of Rumi’s stories from the Mathnawi, which have been adapted for young readers. This collection of accessible and abridged tales makes the Mathnawi available in an attractive 130-page hardcover book in the English language. The range of stories is admirably broad; each tale in this collection-from “The Rabbit and the Lion” to “The Teacher’s Fear”-has a fascinating, action-packed plot and ends with a moral that reinforces the message. It is most likely that readers will come away with a burning desire to read more of Rumi. Its intended audience includes readers interested in exciting tales and in world literature, especially younger readers, who wish to eliminate barriers and to broaden their perspectives.

Recently, there has been a growing global perspective and the increased awareness of the need to expose children and teenagers to world literature and to broaden their understanding of the larger world. In this age of globalization, while acknowledging the cultural perspectives of Rumi’s stories, young readers will become better aware of the commonalities that exist across the boundaries of various cultures. The stories in Tales from Rumi are selected from among numerous stories in the Mathnawi, adapted and edited by Professor Ali Fuat Bilkan, and translated into English by Jeanette Squires Okur. The stories will provide an enjoyable avenue to this great work of world literature and will offer a truly global perspective for this age group as well.

I would like to especially point out the potential benefits of incorporating this world classic into a secondary education curriculum. Other than recommending it for a list of suggested reading at secondary education institutions, I think that this collection of selected and abridged translations of stories from Rumi’s world classic could also be successfully used in school character education programs, which focus on personal, social, and global dimensions. The classroom study of Tales from Rumi-in an explanatory manner, respectful of cultural and linguistic diversity-will offer teenage students excellent opportunities to discover similarities in values across geography, culture, and time. Rumi’s tales have a variety of vivid human or animal characters portrayed with all the character, wit, and failings of humans. The spectacular and amusing illustrations and snapshots throughout the book are also moving and meditative-bringing the tales to life.

Native and nonnative English readers can understand the virtues and vices of characters in the tales and draw important lessons by making use of their reasoning skills and their appreciation of the book’s enlightening and comprehensible morals. Indeed, there is always more to be found in all the tales when they are read and reread, told and retold, visited and revisited, and mediated upon. In this manner, the tales’ messages may reveal themselves variously at different stages of human development. The tales could provide younger readers with the key to a better understanding of the elements of a good character and provide them with an understanding of the universal traits of respect, modesty, generosity, and the need to learn from mistakes-wisdom that have been revered by the generations of the past and acknowledged by those in the present.

Tales from Rumi is surely a marvelous introduction to one of the best books of the world literature for the youth audience, readers who do not wish to be myopic but want to see more of the world and cross borders they have not yet crossed.

Huseyin Bingul is a staff editor of The Fountain.

Current trends in language studies

Of the various functions of language one is its meaning making, knowledge producing activity. Various theories of language and discourses produce different kinds of knowledge, meaning, reality and truth-claims. Over the last four decades much academic discussion dealing with language has started out with its value-laden entwinement with ideology. Language’s ambiguous nature, culture-specific character, indeterminacy of meaning and the ways in which it shapes and controls our perceptions of the world, have been studied in the social and political context. Consequently, there has been proliferation of such diverse disciplines as psycholinguistics, socio-linguistics, and post-colonial studies. Research in language use has tended to focus on its power to shape our perceptions of the world within hierarchical structures of power which are both formulated and upheld by language. Language has been studied as social capital, an instrument for establishing cultural hegemony, a form of manipulation and conquest, a discourse of power embedded in ideology in the context of education, interpersonal and mass communication, business, propaganda, advertisements, natural sciences and translation studies.

The truth-claim of the designative tradition in the philosophy of language, based as it is on nominalism and naturalism, limits meaning to word-object relation only, and reduces reality to mere physical phenomena that can be quantitatively measured and explained. This exclusive, separatist, Cartesian focus on mirroring objective reality ends in scientific materialism and determinism, which leaves no room for the noblest reaches of spiritual life. On the other hand, if the twin emphasis on how discourse is both constituted by and constitutes the socio-cultural world and the notion that discourse is invested in and contributes to the (re)production of power relations in society, ends in cultural materialism, likewise the poststructuralist marginalizing of external reality, exaggerated one-sided emphasis on hermetically closed system of textuality, regression and deference of meaning results in nihilism.

Breaking free from linguistic reductionism

If it is to have a future, the philosophy of language has to break free from cultural narcissism, solipsism, and linguistic reductionism. It has to make a connection between the fullness of life and language. The idea of reality needs to be extended to make room for the complexity of full human experience-the Transcendental and the temporal and spatial, the Eternal and the historical, the spiritual and the physical, the sacred and the secular. Regrettably research in language studies has not been carried over into the domain of mystical discourse. The absence of an adequate study of the need, nature, function, effect and context of language in leaping up to Transcendence, neglect of the study of the relationship between language and faith in mystical discourse in various theories of meaning and reality is symptomatic of a deep problem in our current views of our cognition of reality. The difficulty is not a matter of mere oversight. The problem is far more distressing, for it concerns our entire orientation towards these issues, which is based on a set of presuppositions that deny God, spirituality, mysticism, and sacredness a central role in the constitution of reality. The paradigms of positivism and empiricism are still regarded as organizing forms which exclude transcendence and subjective mystical experience as integral parts of the fullness of life.

Despite the fact that since the 1970s the study of mysticism has completely transformed, it has yet to draw the attention of linguists, literary critics and philosophers of language. Far from being regarded as sentimentalism and deviation from religion or abnormal behavior it has come to be recognized as an account of sublime spiritual experience. The labors of religions psychologists, like the work of William James (1982) disentangled it from psycho-physical accidents and no responsible student now identifies mysticism with confusion of thought. The philosophical and theological landscape with its increasing emphasis on Transcendence, respect for the idea of the sacred, growing recognition of the distinctness, independence and need of the spiritual order and a revival of the creaturely sense, strongly contrast with the temper of the nineteenth-century thought. The metaphysical claims of mystics are now recognized as truth-claims. The warm welcome given to Rudolf Otto’s The Idea of the Holy (1926) has been followed by renewed interest in the sacred. Yet in spite of the adjustments required by such a shift in philosophical outlook, language theorists have yet to enrich their insights by gleaning from the field of mysticism. Wittgenstein’s catalogue of “language games” includes prayer but it does not move beyond formal prayer to private prayer, munajat, “a prayer of intimate conversation between God and man during which words of love and affection are exchanged and consolation is found for the afflicted heart.” The linguist’s inquiry does not address issues of the meaningfulness, force and effect of language constructs in the mystical discourse and context. This constitutes a very large gap in scholarship on language.

The profundity of thought, sublimity of emotion and esthetic beauty of the works of Muslim mystics has gained international attention and respect by virtue of their translation into different languages and the commentaries on them-Massignon’s French volume on Mansur al-Hallaj (1922), Chittick (2000), Nicholson (1964, 1970, 1989), Arberry (1956, 1979) and Schimmel’s works (1975, 2003) in English on Muslim mystics in general and in particular on Al-Hujwiri and Maulana Rumi, Margaret Smith on Muhasibi (1935), and Rabia (1994), Schimmel’s German volume on the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) (1981). Maulana Rumi has emerged as the most widely read poet in the United States because of the accessibility of translations of his work into English.

Rationale

Why Sufi poetry? The devastation caused by the two world wars, for the first time shook the Western world into realizing a two-fold need .The first was of “a deeper understanding and appreciation of other peoples and their civilizations, especially their moral and spiritual achievements.” The second need arose from the strong call for “a new vision of the Universe, a clearer insight into the fundamentals of ethics and religion.” What should be the criteria for living a decent life? Can the nations be brought together? Is there a God of love or simply a blind, mechanical, impersonal force behind the chance collocation of atoms? What is the nature of the relationship between man and God? Can man reach out to Him or does He remain inaccessible? This quest led men and women to dig out what the mystics, the greatest minds of East and West, who by common consent are accepted as the people of God, have thought and said about the truth of God.

This was, according to Arberry, one of the main objectives behind a series of translations of Sufi (Islamic mystical) literature and commentaries on them, showing the background against which this kind of literature arose and developed. The translator of Sufi literature emerged in the role of the guide who shows the way to treasures. Arberry (1956) wrote, “Mankind is hungry, but the feast is there, though it is locked up and hidden away.” The aim of translations was to put that feast within reach, so that, like “the Heroes of Homer, we may stretch out our hands to the good cheer laid before us.”

Unfortunately this aim has not yet been realized. Since 9/11 nations have drifted even further away from each other. Misunderstanding, misrepresenting and misrepresented, seething with the consuming passion of mistrust and hatred, the world today is once again standing on the brink of disaster. We behave in this wasteland like hollow men who eschew eye contact with each other, who can connect nothing with nothing, and talk only about the clash of civilizations. We need to open our eyes to the beauty of the emotion of love shared by all the religions and traditions of mysticism. No doubt, the great religions differ in fundamentals, but the essence is the same, and that is compassion and it is that which brings the great religions together on a strong spiritual footing.

The transformative spirit and power of Sufi poetry was later voiced once more by a Western scholar, Karen Armstrong, who viewed her access to the Holy Qur’an and Sufi literature through translations as a “very liberating experience.” She discovered expansion, pluralism and compassion in Islam. Since then it has been her jihad, as she puts it, to enlighten her people in the West about the true spirit of Islam and dispel misunderstandings, prejudices, and negative stereotyping of Muslims.

Another motive which should precipitate translation of Sufi poetry is the need to fill the gap in scholarship on language. Language has a complex character. It can perform diverse and contradictory functions. Like the two-faced Roman God Janus, language has an ambivalent character; it can equally disclose and hide, construct and destroy, inspire and demoralize, liberate and imprison, clarify and distort, heal and hurt. Sufi literature brings forth the paradox of the inadequacy of words to express and convey the mystical experience and insight, and on the other hand the meaning, power and need of words. Sufis always say that their experience is ineffable, yet they couch their feelings and experiences in words and express them with great conviction, force and eloquence .If the spiritual experience and the vision are unutterable and beyond expression and words are inherently incapable of expressing something which is beyond the comprehension of intellect (because words are the tools of intellect to conceptualize) then these questions are immediately raised:

1. What is the nature of language in Sufi poetry?
2. What does a Sufi describe?
3. How do the words function?
4. What is the purpose of this functioning?

First, Sufi poetry is highly metaphorical in nature. The illogical logic in Sufi poetry addresses the “ontological” status of metaphor in relation to how things actually are: the unreality of the phenomenal world and the way it should be “seen as something else.”

Second, Sufi literature reveals and describes the most profound spiritual truths disclosing the esoteric aspect of Islam, as the very titles of many Sufi treatises demonstrate. Kashf-Al-Mahjub, the oldest Persian treatise of tasawwuf (Sufism), written by Ali Bin Uthman Al-Hujwiri, means the “Unveiling of the Veiled,” and in his own words it is “an explanation of mystical sayings, and an uplifting of the veil of mortality.” Long before Derrida used the word “translator” for a writer, Sufi writers saw themselves in the role of translators, who transfer, reconstitute and interpret divine truths from the transcendental domain to the context of this physical world.

This makes us move on to the function that language performs in Sufi literature. Sufi poetry displays the close relation between language, belief, understanding and truth. Sufi poetry by its very nature engages us in a dialogue with the Transcendental. Not only does it initiate the move to relate, it then becomes the means of consolidating and strengthening the bond, and expanding understanding of the nature of relationship.

Here language becomes a way of showing the way to harmony and peace that passes understanding. Words do not strain, slip and crack here. They are meaningful, not illusory nor simulacra. They create meaning: meaning is not endless regression here. Language in Sufi poetry is not “a prison house” outside which no reality lives. Functioning as a therapy, Sufi poetry sprouts hope and shows possibilities of breaking through impasse, becoming a source of strength and inspiration. It reanimates and “brings dead hearts to life.”

Sufi poetry has constitutive value; it constitutes who we are, how we should think and live. It sets the parameters of our life by pressing upon us the ideal of love and compassion. Making us see beyond the mere referential value of word-object relationship, it offers a dynamic and creative view of language.

Thus, Sufi poetry develops an optimistic relationship between humankind and language. Just as mystical experience is liberating, likewise language is seen as a liberating force, expanding and promoting human well being, rather than being constrictive as Derrida, the philosopher of language, claims it to be.

Integrating the sacred with the secular

Research in the translation of Sufi literature becomes a way of reintegrating “the sacred with the secular” in today’s disenchanted world. The way language in Sufi literature creates and extends meaning and reality is nowadays ignored because of the Post-structuralist emphasis on culture, ideology and indeterminacy of meaning in language. But the significance of language as a “meaning-making” activity, a way of knowing and understanding Transcendence, a means of creating a bridge across diverse religions and cultures validates such comparative studies. Truth may be at stake. A researcher and a scholar like the translators, critics, historians, journalists and professors of literature can break or make a writer on his/her own terms. Research acquires the power of Plato’s pharmakon, both “poison” and “remedy.” The power invested in the researcher to change texts and so change the world should be increasingly recognized.

The researcher may intervene in the interpretation of text for different reasons and use research to serve various functions. If an interpretation is yoked to a political or national agenda it may manipulate language to construct meaning not intended by the original text. In this way research ceases to be a means of knowing the truth. It becomes manipulation, subsuming the original meaning into its own hegemonizing voice. In generating erroneous perceptions of a work and the doctrine it is embedded in biased or erroneous interpretation assists in promoting negative stereotypes. Inauthentic and distorted versions of Sufi literature were instrumental in re-presenting Islamic mysticism as a form of Bacchanalian ecstasy. Research can thus do more harm than good by repressing, distorting or containing the original meaning.

In its positive aspect, by being faithful to the original meaning of the text, research can promote good will through intercultural dialogue, expand understanding about other religions and literatures, and promote peaceful coexistence. The aim should be to deepen understanding and expand awareness about the complexity of the web of language use in making Sufi poetry.

Aalia Sohail Khan is an associate professor of English in the National University of Modern Languages, Islamabad.

References

• Arberry A.J. Muslim Saints and Mystics. Trans. Tadhkirat-al-Auliya by Farid al-Din Attar. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966.
• Medina, Jose. Language: Key Concept in Philosophy. London: MPG Books Limited. 2000.
• Schimmel, Annemarie. As Through a Veil: Mystical Poetry in Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985.
• Underhill, Evelyn, Mysticism: A study in the nature and development of Man’s spiritual consciousness. New York: Meridian Books, 1960.