Question: Oppression is everywhere and exists in almost every form. How should believers respond to oppression when they have to face it?

Oppression, at its most basic form, is a transgression of boundaries and a violation of others’ rights. Killing an ant is oppressive, for nobody is authorized to take an animal’s right to life unjustly. If it is human who is being unjustly treated then it is definitely a form of oppression of a much higher magnitude. As for the oppression committed against a collective group of people, that is an incomparably greater and more horrible misdeed.

Irrespective of its exact nature, believers are seriously warned not to oppress others. Otherwise, it will appear on the Day of Judgment as a manifold darkness that will suffocate and distress the one who oppresses (Bukhari, Mazalim 9; Muslim, Birr 56). Each act of oppression and injustice – be it against animals, people, or even God – will appear before that person as a separate trouble in the Afterlife.

Oppression, according to some insightful scholars, is among one of the obstacles that can prevent a person from embracing faith. While it is an obstruction to having belief in God, it is similarly a significant reason that causes believers to drift out of the realm of faith.

Preventing oppression

Given that oppression is evil to this degree in regard to how other people are treated, it definitely needs to be prevented. According to Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, everyone should try to prevent oppression depending upon their capability, power, and position be it by direct intervention or via verbal objection. In the event that a person cannot resist oppression physically or verbally, it is at least necessary to protest the oppressor in one’s heart (Sahih al-Muslim, Iman 78; Tirmidhi, fitan 11; Abu Dawud, salat 239). Likewise, it is a famous old adage that “(the) one who remains silent before oppression is a mute devil.”

Preventing oppression on a smaller scale is within the capability of individuals, but there are some forms of oppression that can only be prevented by the state. In this contemporary world when justice and democracy have wide – though not perfect – prevalence such oppressions are committed at degrees big enough that even states are not able to tackle them. Preventing those oppressions and successions of atrocities, by which people are swept away in floods of blood, families are shattered, children are orphaned, and spouses are widowed, can only be possible through the hands of certain international establishments and organizations. In this respect, those who remain silent before oppression while they have the power to stop it—be they individuals, a state, or an international establishment—in a way have a share in that oppression by turning a blind eye to it and not taking the preventive action that they could have, and they will be treated accordingly on the Day of Judgment.

As it is very important to take a stance against oppression and to prevent it, determining the correct strategy to follow while not making any mistakes with the method is no less important. People must reckon well from the beginning how they can prevent unfairness, be aware of their capabilities, and also must not exacerbate problems while attempting to prevent oppression. They must not commit evil by thinking that they are doing something good.

Nothing good can come from oppression

It is a gross delusion to think that one can reach any positive goal via oppression and injustice. While it is not possible to obtain any favorable outcome with oppression, it is not possible to reclaim one’s violated rights via oppression either. If people try to move themselves or their societies in a new direction, or try to reclaim the rights that they lost by means of oppression, then this will give way to new acts of oppression, violations of rights, and a shattered system of justice. If these demands are for rights to be upheld and for justice to prevail, then strict adherence to a righteous course is needed from beginning to end. Just as the end should be lawful, so should be the means and ways to that end.

We do not know exactly to what degree we can prevent any oppression and injustice in our time. What matters most is being on the path to setting things right and correcting previous misdeeds. The duties that befall the wayfarers of the righteous path are that they must always be representatives of what is right and truthful, open one’s heart to everyone, and also not respond to oppression and injustice committed in the same wrong way. To put this in the words of the Poet Nabi:

“Do not trouble anyone with oppression
Even if they did oppress you, you do not be unjust to them
Do not arrive at God’s door with complaints
As for those who oppressed you, leave them to the Divine.”

Be like Rumi

In many instances, we quote, with a little bit of boastful considerations, the names of masters such as Jalaluddin Rumi, Yunus Emre, Ahmad Yasawi, or Haji Baktash Wali and bring their tolerance to attention. It is easy to make mention of Rumi, but it is difficult to be like him. At a time when you make mention of Rumi, are you really able to open your arms for all people, even for those who insulted you? When they come upon you, do you seek ways to settle issues in a peaceful manner? Are you able to make those who bear hostility against you share the same peaceful considerations after a while? This is how you become a Rumi in the real sense.

Historians mention the following anecdote about the tolerance of Rumi: One day, a rude bigot accosted him and criticized his statements such as, “one of my feet is in the center of Islam, while the other is among all nations of the world.” He accused Rumi of apostasy, misguiding Muslims, and proceeded to let out an invective against him. Without ever interrupting the man, the venerable master listened to him peacefully with God-granted self-restraint. On seeing that the man stopped talking and had no other words to say, he asked if he was done. When the man replied in the affirmative, Rumi spoke with a soft voice and said, “You are most welcome; my heart is open for you too.”

This is the very point at which words cease. In such a situation, all of the negative feelings within the latter melted away. The grudge and hatred suddenly started pouring down in the form of fireworks of love. While it is possible to treat people with showers of light, why should we shower them with meteors instead?

If you are focused on representing the spirit of Rumi, even if those who show hostility towards you commit oppression and injustice against you for one, two, three, or four times, they will give up such acts after some time on account of not having the same kind of response from you. Now, while there is a way to settle issues with mildness and agreement, why should we engage in other behavior that will only spur ill-feelings and hatred?

One thing that needs to be kept in mind is that we can give up on our personal rights and forgive others for their unfair treatment of us. However, we do not have the authority to forgive on behalf of others when there is an offense against values like faith or country. When such an offense happens, we should make plausible explanations to offenders to show them what they are doing is wrong. If they still insist, we deny their claims with denouncements. If they still persist, then we sue them and claim compensation.

We must always act carefully to remain within the confines of laws and ethics, and we must never make concessions on our fairness when responding in these ways. It is paramount that we must always act humanely but assertively. Even while making certain clarifications, corrections, and denouncements, we always try to give positive messages to the other side and never make concessions from our own character. We voice what we are to say not with whisperings of Satan, but with the voice and breath of the Archangel Gabriel. Oppression and assaults only indicate the character of the offender. This situation should not avert people attached to faith and universal human values to act as becomes their own character.

Is it worth it?

This passing worldly life is neither worth committing oppression against others nor responding to their oppression in the same way. After all, each of us is a traveler in this world. After staying in this guesthouse that we call life, we will pass to the Afterlife in order to be brought to account for what we did here. Is it worth it to promote fighting? Is it worth it at all to cause disunity and dissension? Is it worth it at all to commit oppression and injustice?

In an anonymous saying, the simple and transient nature of the world is expressed as follows:

Behold with the eyes of wisdom, this world is but a guesthouse;
Not a single person remains settled, what a strange abode it is.
The share of a king and subject alike, is nothing but a plain shroud.
As for those who fall for it, what else can they be called but mad?

Humankind has oftentimes made use of oppression and hatred in order to solve the problems that we collectively faced. If only we could make use of love and tolerance from now on! If only we were able to open our hearts to everyone so that those who enter therein would never have worries of remaining without a seat. If only we would treat everyone with a deep feeling of respect and reverence, and if only we could read into other’s feelings, their cultural backgrounds, and treat everyone with a serious feeling of empathy! For whatever style of treatment we expect to receive from others, they similarly expect the same from us. If we expect respect, we must show respect. If we expect observance of our rights, we must observe everybody’s rights.

It is necessary to know that the problems in our time have taken a complicated form to such an extent that they cannot be tackled by those with narrow minds and dull thoughts. There is not much that those with radical thoughts, who act out of bigotry in order to pursue arrogant purposes, can do for the sake of conquering people’s hearts and bringing peace to humanity. Particularly with this harsh attitude of theirs, they can never evoke in hearts any love towards their own values. They cannot let others love the Pride of Humanity, peace and blessings be upon him, because they are too captivated by their own worldly, illicit desires.

Therefore, for the sake of solving the problems of humanity, there is a need for people with immense conscience, rich hearts, and profound thought. Just as Rumi brought people together anew with the plausible cures he came up with some 7-8 centuries ago, in the contemporary world when people are so detached from one another, when people cannot agree on anything, and relations are built upon conflict and hostility, the duty that falls to those with faithful hearts is to revive the spirit of Rumi once again. As far as this cannot be done, it will not be possible to put a stop to oppression and hostilities in different parts of the world. This is particularly the case if we consider to what degree world peace is under threat by ambitious tyrants and horrible weapons prepared with vengeful intentions. It will then be best understood how great the responsibility is of the altruistic souls who have dedicated their lives to love and tolerance.

The morning had withheld its sunlight and left only a gray hue to open its doors when the man turned aside to his wife facing him, her Cantu-scented curls waving in his face. The sunlight compliments her already perfect face even though the gray brings gloom to others, but not him. The sounds of breakfast cooking brew an ambience that acts as lenses onto her beauty while her eyes secure her innocence. The appreciation of sunlight comes natural for those who don’t have it, but alternatives are the only option with no availability. As a result, he finds the sunlight captured in her beauty while her eyes take the picture.

“Want some eggs,” she asks, her words softly layered.

“With syrup please,” he replies as his words stick to his mouth.

Her response echoes through the whole house, her laughter bounces off the walls. Her eyes close when she laughs and he wonders what she sees. The sight she sees contains an expression of her love with him at the center of her photograph. In the meanwhile, a whole dictionary was consumed in the process of describing what she feels towards what she sees.

The day passes them by in a swirl of heartfelt emotions. A haze of old music lingers in the house as she takes two steps back while he takes two steps forward.

She asks, “Where did the day go?”                                                                                      

“With you in my arms,” he responds.

“Ha-Ha-Ha,” she says sarcastically.

Her laugh gets softer and softer as he feels the heat escape her body. Her eyes flash red not with pain but with a warning. “Low Battery! Charge Now!” but a recharge isn’t possible, at least not in an electrical sense. With this he holds her memory tightly, tighter than the grip of death itself. He carries her soul in his heart as he steps to the cellar. Her brown hair now twisted with curls, rooted in the insecurities of others. The door creaks open to deliver a gust of contempt for death and a sense of resurrection. Human sized tubes litter the wall. The same face stares back at him at least a dozen times, providing twelve instances of relief. A transaction is made with his heart and mind, and one of the tubes opens. He feels elated but the air still chills around him, and an aura steps out followed by a hand reaching for him.

The morning withholds its sunlight and leaves only the gray to open its doors when the man turns aside to his wife facing him, her strawberry scented hair waving in his face.

We woke at the thud, panicked.

My wife and I had been dozing in bed, squeezing the last seconds of sleep out of our pillows before the inevitable onslaught of little people. It’s something of a delicious defeat when you hear the door creak open and steps on the carpet. You know you’re trading something so precious to you (sleep) for someone so precious, who you just wish would be precious elsewhere. But then they’re all warm and soft and tousle-headed and snuggly and saying things like “daddy, can we have special cereal?” and poking their knees into your side and sitting on your face with a full diaper and sticking cold toes into your armpits.

This morning they didn’t get to do all those precious, horrible things to us because we woke up to the sound of something thwacking against our window. After shaking off the confusion (no, it’s not a child on the roof; they can’t reach the window), I recalled why I knew the sound. It was a bird. And from the sound, a pretty sizable one.

I said as much to my wife, as I tried to open my eyes but managed only a half-squint. She half-muttered sympathy, as if she cared deeply inside but couldn’t get past the early morning fog. I added that since it was a big bird, it probably got away a little dazed, no harm done. I tried to find her to give her a reassuring pat, but I was too drowsy and missed completely. I also couldn’t pry my eyelids open still; they ached a little, as if I hadn’t used them for a week instead of approximately six hours.

I’ve read that birds, reptiles, and some mammals have something called a nictitating membrane, a third eyelid that acts as a translucent shield when they are diving or flying. They can draw it horizontally across each eye to moisten and protect it. For instance, many birds use it when they are regurgitating food for their kids so they don’t get their eyes poked out by little beaks.

I think of things like this when I’m abruptly disturbed from sleep. Things like this, and demonic children’s songs that will not be exorcised for hours.

We turned over and buried ourselves in the blankets for three more minutes before the precious, horrible people came and got us.

Nadia was playing hopscotch out on the sidewalk later in the morning when she found the bird. Robins are always the first birds my children encounter and remember. It was easy for her to name the body she stumbled upon, one story below our window, and quite dead. We had a little flurry of don’t-touch-that’s and daddy-is-it-going-to-be-okay’s, and I managed to deposit it into a small terrarium for them to look at. Animals can die of diseases communicable to humans, but this one died upon impact, and it was still warm. So the kids and I examined it carefully.

It was larger than any bird I’d seen this close. The wings were tucked in beside its impossibly light body. Many of its bones were hollow, for ease of flight. The neck was at a weird angle, a wrong angle. The death in front of me was at a wrong angle. It always has been, but it just felt much more wrong suddenly, because it was also in front of my children. Blood speckled its beak, a dark decoration above the warm red tinges on its chest.

I realized that it was a young one, probably a teenager in robin years. Its feathers were perfect, straight and sleek, pinions just slightly larger and smaller on each side, forming beautiful strong wings. And the roses on the sides under the wings were just barely forming up into a speckled breast. It was about the size of an adult but without the experience, which is why it probably hit our window.

One eye was slightly open and looking like black jelly, like it would spill out of the socket as liquid if you tipped the bird over slightly. The other eye was closed. This teenage robin had eyelashes on the under-lid. It had whiskers. Its feet were curled and delicate.

It was too beautiful. It was too sad.

Nadia was watching me. She told me she was sorry that it died because she could see the sadness in my eyes; but I wasn’t really mourning after the bird. We touched its wings, feeling its perfect form beneath our fingers: the surreal softness, the preciousness of a young fleeting life snuffed out. Not a sparrow falls but that He sees it. God saw this.

Woodpeckers will close their nictitating membrane, then tighten it a millisecond before they hit the tree so that their eyeballs don’t fall out on impact. Perhaps we need similar shields.

Only a few days earlier we had discovered a young robin hopping around the pine tree down in the yard. We took pictures. The kids enjoyed watching it hop around. There was a hawk above, circling around, and I like to think we saved that little robin’s life. There was a little one then, alive and bouncing, and then a bigger one, dead and stiff.

God saw this.

What is it about seeing that is comforting? Wouldn’t catching the sparrow be more comforting? Wouldn’t solving the problem, ending the great horror – death – wouldn’t this be a more lasting comfort? You see me, God. You see my children. But if you were to let them fall…

Sharks close their third eyelid when they attack. This way they can see their victims without getting blood in their eyes.

Kai got out of the house when he was only one year old. We noticed when it was too quiet. He had slipped out the screen door moments after I arrived home from work, and neither Linnea nor I had seen him. I locked the door. It was five minutes before we noticed he was gone, and in those five minutes he was down the outer stairs of the apartment building and toddling along the street.

The terror in my heart: I was running down the sidewalk in my dress slacks, socks, and undershirt, desperately looking for my son, expecting to see him lying in the street, expecting to be one of those parents we pray for, expecting to live with the knowledge that we didn’t see him, we didn’t see him, and then it was too late to see him…

He liked stairs, so he had kept to the house side of the sidewalk, and a kind and observant couple had pulled over and were with him four houses down when I ran up. The man was on the phone with the police, and I heard him say, “Oh never mind, it’s okay. The father’s here.” I thanked them, breathless, and held my son, and held him walking back, and held him up the stairs, and held him for another hour until he didn’t want to be held anymore, promising him I would see him, always, I would see him.

God saw this. How can I say it differently, to ease the pain? God sees… me?

If we mourn this way, how must God mourn at all He sees, at all the flickering lights snuffed out, the bruised reeds broken, the sheep silent before the shearer? Death is nothing new to Him, and in fact, He knows it as an old friend, an old foe, better than us all.

Today, this day, my children are alive and real, perfect in form and surreally soft. They are the preciousness of young life, fleeting, and my God sees them. Lest you think me morbid, think on why this is precious, why as a parent, as a child, as a human I am determined to cherish this thing we call life, why I must defend it for those I love, why death is such an aberration and a destiny and a defeated foe. The thought of death is morbid, maybe, but so is the thought of life without the thought of death. For now, we need both. And God sees us, in both.

God sees us.

Peregrine falcons see too, because as they dive at over 200 miles per hour, they blink their nictitating membranes repeatedly to clear away the debris and clean each eye.

In the midst of holding onto my family’s break-neck life, I find that I am unable to bring myself to accept such a thing as death, and yet… I know that it’s what I must do, for we will all encounter it, sooner or later. This dark thing I wish to dismiss by forgetting, or fighting, or examining on the operating table of a small terrarium: Death will come for us all.  I know, in my spirit, it is good – a gift given so that our difficult, fallen lives will not last forever, but it will never lose its dread, even when it has lost its sting. And perhaps I will embrace it as a friend when more years have passed beneath my feet, or perhaps I will embrace my Savior, and He will carry me through it into the place where it cannot enter.

And my heart holds its breath for all the times I must try to prepare my children for that moment – the one I feel certain I will never be fully prepared for, the one that God sees. I know I am actually only trying to prepare myself. I know it is not up to me, and I wish I could take more comfort in that. Perhaps someday I will. Every day is another reminder that I am not in control, and death is the great Out-of-My-Control.

But I know this. Each day that I walk in the sight of God, He will train my eyes, and my sight can be strengthened by seeing life and knowing it itself is but a shadow of the life to come.

Nadia, my little avian maven, knows that birds need nests. So she settles herself in a patch of fragrant clover and picks flowers as a pillow for the bird. She is kneeling in her pink flowered dress, a lily ringed with gingham, examining the ground and plucking appropriate stems carefully, precisely, preparing for burial. Perhaps, preparing for flight.

And I blink back a tear.

The Fountain was being published in German as Die Fontäne, in Russian as Noviye Grani, in Arabic as Hira, and in Turkish as Sızıntı for quite many years, and now two major languages—Spanish and French-spoken by large populations of the world are coming into scope (Both magazines were released a year ago; Revista Cascada started online, it is now available in print).

Ebru started off this year with a remarkable gala followed by a symposium early February in Dakar, Senegal. Honored by the Prime Minister Abdoul Mbaye, the gala featured several ministers, academics, and community leaders, not only from Senegal but all over from thirty countries, who came to witness yet another initiative inspired by Fethullah Gülen. Most of the participants were already familiar with this name either through successful schools that are run in partnership with Turkish entrepreneurs and educators or through dialogue activities by foundations like ATSA, (Atlantique Turquie-Sénégal Association Pour le Dialogue Culturelle Entre Les Civilisations) which was one of the organizers of the event. This was not the first time Senegal met the Hizmet / Gülen Movement; Yavuz Selim Colleges have been open in this country since 1997 with a well-deserved reputation for academic excellence. We congratulate Ebru for this great start, and hope Revista Cascada will soon carry the banner to the expansive territories of Cervantes.

The Fountain features in this issue contributors from India, Pakistan, Turkey, Italy, and United States. Mohammad Aleem from India reviews Fethullah Gülen’s masterpiece “The Messenger of God: Muhammad.” Aleem, who also translated the book into Hindi, praises the work as follows: “Any person who enjoys reading would not be able to keep himself or herself unmoved if he or she gets the chance to go through such an emphasis made in this book encouraging readers to try their best to emulate the Prophet in every possible way and guide them to become a human as God has envisaged for them so that they can understand the intricacies of this world and the next.”

Seema Arif from Pakistan takes us on a thoughtful journey into the challenges of the present conditions of life. She questions on what modernism and post-modernism have brought into our lives when she says, “In search of the “theory of everything,” we have almost forgotten all good and great theories and ideas about everything, leading us to skepticism and unbelief.”

Rev. Dr. Pachomius Okogie from Italy presents a wonderful metaphor of the “horizon” as an endless opportunity for liberation: “Because the horizon has power to liberate us from the present, the immediate, the obvious. … With the horizon, there are no closed doors, no human being is a finished project, no done deal, no finished once-and-for-all discussions, no insurmountable barriers. The horizon’s open field stretches into infinity.”

Finally, Katharine Branning from USA sets on our table a delicious and beautifully garnished salad from the wise server of a local deli she frequents for lunch. In this thoughtful memoir from an ordinary working day in New York, you will find a feast of wisdom, as healthy a nourishment for the heart as a freshly mixed green salad.

No matter how fast or how far a person runs, the horizon will always be beyond them. This being the case, the real distance and depth of the horizon is inside a person, it is in their mind and perception…

A race I will always remember

Not too long ago, when I was still a little boy, I found myself running from my father’s village to my mother’s, and from my mother’s to another and to another, in the hope of catching up with something that was neither a ball, some other toy, nor a bird, but rather the point, the line where the sky seemed to touch the earth. We call it the “horizon.” That line, that “place,” first presented itself to me hiding right behind the trees to the left of my father’s house. I started out that day walking rather leisurely because the distance between me and the horizon seemed so short. When I observed that the sky had moved, or rather seemed to have moved further away, I hastened my steps. Then I noticed that the sky moved further and further away. Well, being determined to reach the place where the sky certainly touched the ground, I kept walking faster and faster until I found myself running.

I ran for quite a while until I realized that “there”, where the sky and the earth met, was still further away, that it would take me more time and effort than I had thought. I went back—I had to go back—to my father’s village, back to my usual village life because I saw that perhaps much more was involved, that maybe much more effort was called for in order to achieve what I desired, namely, to get to the point where I could touch the sky, where I could climb the sky. I went back to the ordinary, the normal life and experience of the village and of my people. But I did not tell anyone, I did not discuss the experience with anyone, even though I did not stop and could not stop thinking about it. I thought to myself that perhaps a week, a month, maybe a year would suffice for me to reach the place where the sky and the earth embraced. I was absolutely certain that right there in front of me, over there, not too far away, the sky touched the ground. And I thought that perhaps all I needed to do was keep walking, keep running, and keep racing forward, without stopping, without interruptions, without distractions in order to get to where the sky kissed the ground.

Today, thirty-five years later, I have realized that I was not wrong. I was right. The sky did touch the ground. It touches the ground all the time. You may ask “but where and how?” The sky touches the ground in our perception. Look across from your window into the distance. What do you see? Or, go outside and look in the distance. What do you see? The sky is right there, over there, touching the ground, the road, the houses, the trees, the mountains, the sea, and remaining there. But keep in mind that this is all happening in our perception. In perception, things are the way they appear, the way they seem. No rigorous, critical thinking is involved. And this happens so many times, and in fact is happening now; it happens every time that we are not thinking deeply, with attention and effort. It happens every time we fail to allow other perspectives, other possibilities and other possible interpretations to emerge.

The sky touches the earth, embraces and kisses the ground, right there in a fixed position, as long as you do not move. Once you move, it moves. And when you run after it, it too runs, not towards you though, but rather away from you. If you stand still, it stands still. If you stay where you are, it remains where it is. If you move even an inch, it will move. It will never allow you to catch up with it, to touch it; it will never allow you to possess it, to tame it; it will never allow you to take possession of it. And yet, it is always there, “putting everything into perspective.” By that I mean the horizon enables us to see, for without horizon one cannot see much of anything. Think about it! Everything presents itself in horizon. Everything dwells in the horizon, everything is within the confines of the horizon, and depends more or less on this phenomenon. And if I may borrow an expression from Saint Paul’s speech at the Areopagus (Acts 17:28) and be at liberty to use it as I see fit in this context (just as some scholars say he himself was at liberty to do with the same expression from the writing of Epimenides of Knossos (6th Century B.C.)), one can say that “that in which we live and move and have our being” is the horizon.

Standing still, remaining in one fixed position is not in the nature of the horizon. Its every stop (or what appears to be its end, its boundary) is temporary and transitory, like a pilgrim’s stop on a journey whose destination is still far away. It keeps moving, and it invites us to keep moving too, keep working, keep meeting people, keep exploring, keep digging, keep sowing, keep cultivating, keep harvesting, keep looking, keep reading, keep writing, keep thinking, keep talking, keep wondering.

We hear, not infrequently, the expression, “on the horizon/in the horizon.” What does it mean? It means in view, in the possible future, in sight. That which is in or on the horizon appears close, and seems to be approaching; it is as if it’s right there among the things that one hopes to do soon, as something squarely within one’s reach, among the things that one’s abilities can handle. What is in the horizon, then, is something that appears “present” and seems quite achievable.

What is a horizon? And what does it do?

A horizon is inseparable from a living, perceiving human being who is in the open or in the frontier of the open. There are no horizons in closed spaces, closed places. The distance between a living human being and the line where the sky and the earth meet is very wide. It is infinite. It is far, far away. You can only measure it with your eyes, your mind and your soul. You can figure out how long it is only to the extent that your eyes, your mind and your soul can go. An application of any other measuring device will only frustrate you because the moment you start going after it to measure it, it will recede. But the truth is that what you are actually seeing of the horizon is only a small part of it. The bigger part is on the other side of the horizon. Every horizon has at least two parts: a front and a back. The front of the horizon consists of the part you are seeing, and its back consists of the part hidden from you because of the hills and mountains, the earth, the road, the trees, the sea. In fact, the line where the sky seems to touch the earth is really only a perceived curve or a perceived point of contact, but the horizon really goes far and farther away, without end: it stretches into infinity.

All the things we are seeing are in fact standing in the way of the horizon. Similarly, all the things we are thinking right now, all our thoughts and ideas, everything that is presently on our minds can be an obstacle to a deeper and fuller understanding and appreciation of the horizon. We have to let go of all of these things in order to begin to have an idea of the depth and richness of the horizon.

For now, let us focus on the part of the horizon that is visible to us. It is a world, the world that we live in or would like to live in. Normally, it consists of people, people of different religions and/or of no religion at all, people of different languages and cultures, different experiences, different states and walks of life, different situations and aspirations, people driven by different desires, values and visions, people of very deep opinions, inspirations, beliefs and deep convictions other than our own, people heading in a thousand and one directions. This world, this visible side of the horizon also includes animals of many different types and habitats, which eat different kinds of food and have different spans of life. It also includes many different trees, bushes and flowers, and different types of grasses, etc. Mountains and hills and valleys too, rivers and big oceans, streams and creeks, are all part of this side of the horizon. Small and big houses, low and high buildings, shelters and palaces, mud houses and ghettoes are all part of this side of the horizon that we are seeing. But we do not actually see everything that we know is out there, that is all around us, that is over there in front of us…

How do we even know that there is anything out there, that other people are out there? A long walk, travels, meeting people, doing business with people, education, etc. confirm that there are other people out there, other lifestyles, other ways of thinking, other ways of doing things, other attractions, other things that people consider as very precious and worth dying for. We read about these things, have actually met and seen them with our own eyes, have lived with people of different orientations and values, have had some great opportunities to exchange ideas with them. But neither our reading and studying nor our investigative and explorative eyes can exhaust the visible side of the horizon because even the visible side has its own invisible aspects and invisible faces. Let us take for example persons, situations and objects.

From time to time, a person whom I have known for many years, not only surprises me, but also seems to be a surprise to herself/himself whenever s/he says something or does something I could never have thought or imagined her or him doing. And people of this nature are not uncommon.

How about situations? They are similar. Even the most familiar situations often have aspects that are new and different, which we can see if and when we look with more attention and care. And the moment we become used to these, even newer different aspects of the same situation emerge. The same goes for things such as books, clocks, chairs, doors, and so on. A book often presents us with information that we did not see the first time we read it. And if you read it again, you will again see something you missed the second time you read it. If you wish, you can read it again and again, and you will see something new every time. The book will never fail to make you see something new and/or think something new.

Can a chair or a door do something similar? That is, can a chair or a door make you see something new or think something new every time you encounter them? Let us see. A chair, unlike a book, seems to have no generative power. It seems mute and sterile. But can a chair speak and make us think? The answer is yes, it can speak and make us think. No one would disagree that the chair of Pontius Pilate, the chair of a Court Judge, the chair of Saint Peter, and so forth do have a powerful message. Although these chairs I have cited are special, every chair can say something to us and really make us think. For example, chairs for children and for adults make us think different thoughts, which by the way, make us give children appropriate chairs and to adults what is suitable for them. If we did not think differently of these chairs, chances are we would give adults the chairs meant for children and vice-versa, or give the same kind of chairs to everybody, children and adults alike, seriously compromising comfort. And some chairs would even fall apart (that is, if children’s chairs are given to heavy people like me to sit on).

Doors too make us think. For example, the Door of No Return in Goree Island in Dakar, Senegal, and the Door of Hope in Johannesburg, South Africa, makes every visitor think. But again, although these specific references are special, every door, including those that may seem unimposing and insignificant, can really make us think. Every door has a message.

The bottom line is that even the most visible side of the horizon can have aspects that may not be totally obvious and immediately accessible. Therefore, the visible, that which seems completely clear can still make us think because it often has layers, folds, dimensions, messages that lie beneath its surface. There are always other meanings, other messages behind the obvious. And the moment we finish harvesting one message, the moment we finish reading one meaning, the horizon presents us another one, and yet another, and so on and so forth. Inexhaustible indeed, this horizon can constantly give new meaning, hope, color, shape, style, texture, depth, taste and strength to our lives for endless joy and delight, even under very difficult circumstances. Why? Because the horizon has power to liberate us from the present, the immediate, the obvious. As it draws back, so to speak, that is, when we attempt to respond to its invitation into the open, when we dare to go after it, go with it into the deep, when we allow ourselves to move with it and flow with it, then it can open new doors, generate new ideas, launch new beginnings, reveal inroads, illuminate new bridges, disclose exits, uncover new faces, make terrains of other possibilities visible, make cooperation and collaboration possible, make teamwork possible, bring along other solutions, other fertile soils. With the horizon, there are no closed doors, no human being is a finished project, no done deal, no finished once-and-for-all discussions, no insurmountable barriers. The horizon’s open field stretches into infinity.

All of this is but an invitation to read between the lines, i.e., “to resist simplistic interpretations that dogmatically ascribe fixed significations to [things]” (G. Weiss, Refiguring the Ordinary, Indiana University, Bloomington, 2008, p.58).

It is about the need to go on researching other possible meanings and interpretations of a text, to go on searching for other possible answers to certain problems, to appreciate the expanding limits, and to devote more time and energy to the lifelong project of exploration of self and of the world (and of God) (see P. Okogie’s “Horizon: the birthing world” in the Journal of Horizons of Horizons, Vol. 1, no. 1, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, 2012, p.10).

Rev. Dr. Okogie is Assistant Professor of Philosophy and Bioethics, University of Saint Anselm, Rome, Italy.

Expansion can be dealt with in two categories: Our relationship with the created, and our relationship with the Creator.

With respect to our relationship with the created, expansion means that we are careful of our connection with God and the Truth; that we live in our communities as one of its inhabitants, being open with and showing respect to everyone; and that we treat people according to their level of understanding.

The noble Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings, was sincere and frank with those around him, and avoided ceremony or formality. He spoke according to his listeners’ level of understanding, and sometimes made wise and meaningful jokes. Although he suffered inwardly from the unbelief, injustice, and sins he witnessed, and was anxious about everyone’s end and afterlife, he always smiled and behaved pleasantly. As said in al-Minhaj: “A heart is like a mirror: too much and too frequent solemnity may cause it to steam up, and the only way to remove that steam is to tell pleasant jokes.”

With respect to our relationship with God Almighty, expansion signifies the simultaneous experiencing of fear and hope in our souls. Being states of the soul, fear and hope are usually found in those who have just started to advance on the path to God. Expansion, on the other hand, is a state of those with knowledge of God and, moreover, is a dimension of the heart’s life. The state resembling the expansion of those still striving to reach this level of expansion is an exhilaration coming from knowledge of God. This may lead them to become relaxed in their relationship with God, and thus lose their self-control and self-possession.

Expansion appears when a traveler on the path of God is completely freed from carnal desire and passion, and becomes a bright “mirror” to reflect God’s Names and Attributes. This station, whether called the Station of Combination (where the traveler experiences God’s Existence and Unity) or Annihilation (where the traveler’s annihilation of self causes forgetfulness of self when in the throes of ecstatic love of God and perception of God’s Existence and Unity), is a mysterious point where the traveler directs himself or herself according to the Divine inspirations received and assumes “colors” unknown to everybody else. It is impossible for such people to conceal their expansion, while it is insolent of those who have not attained it to talk about it. How aptly Rumi expresses it:

If the king’s courtier behaves in an affected manner to attract the king’s attention, you must not attempt to do so, for you do not have the document (to justify your doing so). O one who cannot be freed from the restrictions of this transient life, how can you know what (the stations of) annihilation, drunkenness, and expansion mean?

Indeed, servants of the body cannot be aware of the states of the spirit. It is impossible for those imprisoned in the body to be aware of spirituality. We should ask those souls who have burned and been “roasted” many times in the fire of the love of God about the pains of a heart that has been cleft open, and their expansion and contraction.

O God! Endear belief to us and make it appealing to our hearts, and make unbelief, transgression, and rebellion hateful to us; and include us among those with right conduct and sound thinking. And bestow blessings and peace on our Master Muhammad and his Companions, all of them.

It is springtime, and soon I will expand and open up to see the bright face of the sun. Sunlight is a source of my food and the service I do. The more sunrays that hit my surface, the faster I grow, and will generate a great need of life on Earth: oxygen. To the unappreciative eye, I am just a leaf, but the complexity of my reactions are still a great puzzle to scientists who work in large institutions trying to understand the processes going on inside me. It takes them many years to fully comprehend a single step in the process of oxygen generation that takes place within me.

Although I am very simple, thin, and fragile, I have been charged with a great service. During the entire summer, I endure the heat of the sun without drying up or wilting. This is because I am constantly fed with a flow of water and minerals from my branch, which was soaked up from the tree’s roots embedded deep in the Earth. This constant flow of water enables me to keep upright, sturdy, and open. Most of the water is evaporated through my thin surface, but a small part of it is broken up to provide you with the oxygen that you need to survive. Although this sounds very simple, it requires a great deal of energy. This energy is provided to me through the sun and the sugars that are made in me during this process.

When no water falls from the clouds, I suffer. I cannot keep upright to provide you with the oxygen that you need. When it is too hot and there is no rain, I suffer again. Were it not for the babies, the old, and the weak among you, I would dry out completely. When human beings oppress each other, I suffer, because under these conditions water does not fall to Earth despite the clouds in the sky. These clouds also block the sunshine that I need to serve you with oxygen.

Right now it is autumn in many places and although I did not dry up in the hot months of the summer, I am now ordered to wither and fall. My color changes from green to yellow, orange, red, and finally brown. As I drop to the ground, people step on me. I get crushed and grinded to pieces as I return back to Earth. The matter used to create me mixes with the soil, until next spring, when I will be high up on the branch looking at you one more time, reminding you of a new beginning after death.

Given that the entire creation bears witness to all this, here I pray:

O King of Kings, whose signs of Lordship we perceive from the collars around our necks! Make us feel and understand our servitude to You fully and execute Your decree on those who make use of Your blessings a means of getting wild and straying into evil ways.

All those endless range of shades and hues of the realm of divine mercy and blessings which are present in human consciousness quiescently and which flow into the heart with heavenly joys on different wavelengths, even before getting into the Heavens-all these endless variety of shades and hues are from the divine grace and favor which are incommensurable with any quality or quantity. Were it not for divine favor and liking for us, what difference would there be between us and the flesh in the butcher shop? He not only livens up the earth with the fluffy clouds, rain falling down to the earth in drops, running rivers, and effervescent seas, but also enlivens our inner world and faculties, opening them into eternity through the inspirations, breezes, and springtides of divine grace.

It is He who has created the soil mixed with rocks and has filled the earth with infinitesimal creatures, turning all the corners of the world into heavenly gardens. It is He who introduces the human being, which He has created with flesh, blood, and bones, to the angels and other celestial beings and has them strive as if in a race toward good works. It is He who has paved the ways from the passageways-which can also spread out to the cesspools-to Paradise and from the seventh heaven to the observation of the divine “countenance” and has shown how coal can turn into diamonds.

O King of Mercy, who restores life to the rocks and soil and with His grace brings those whose spirit is also open to devilry into the realm of angels-furnish us with endowments beyond our capacity and improve us in our endowments! Either show those who are ignorant of You, with souls as black as coal, how to turn into diamond-like souls or condemn them to punishment!

If the pulses of the faithful quicken with hope now, if their hearts beat with the excitement of future bliss, and their minds are enraptured with the beauties of the otherworld, this is because of the divine breezes we feel in our conscience and due to God’s making us aware of the divine presence at every stage. From Him is the light of the heavens and the earth; the openings to the treasuries of both this and the other world are not even like a keyhole to the door of His Kingdom. In comparison with the real worth and virtue in God’s sight, the world that we constantly run after, filled with fancies, has not as much value as even the wing of a fly before God. Even a particle of this world-which is in fact futile in its entirety, but which gains a manifest value in accordance with Divine principles-becomes great enough to pave the way to eternal bliss.

O Mighty King who brings-through His Existence-all existence out of non-existence, who endows a drop of water with the immensity of the sea, and who grants an atom the power to be the sun! Every thing and being, from the animate to inanimate, from human to animals, from the faithful to the nonbeliever, from the conscious to the unconscious, and from the fortunate to the unfortunate, subsist under Your banner-may this divine banner always fly above us and may we continue to live in the shade of Your light which emanates from Your existence! Were it not for Your special Will and turning towards them, nothing would have come into existence, humanity would not exist, faith would be unattainable, Your existence would be imperceptible, and those fortunate souls upon whom You have bestowed an endless depth of thought with faith would not excel themselves.

You are the source for all the sparkling and fading lights. We come into the world, grow up, and die, whereas You are the Necessarily Existent One beyond any time or space. You call hundreds of thousands into being at every moment, You manifest Your existence through them, You remind us of Your will and knowledge by the divine wisdom in their creation. You draw attention to Your perpetuity by evolving and transforming everything, whispering the secrets that lie behind things and events to those who are on the way to God, and talk confidentially about the glamour of the road. Your Name is the dearest thing in our conscience-may it reside in our heart constantly! Your Essence is the one and only source of light for our spirits. Our hearts, which have been seeking for an eternity on each and every horizon-as if they are programmed for an awareness of eternity-shout out the infinitude of Your Mercy. The earth cringes in servility and submissiveness to Your command and has been on a blessed journey since the very first day it was created: The heights and mounts stand in awe of You, showing their readiness for Your commands. The rivers bow down onto the ground, rapturous with the flood of Your light, flowing with vivacity and calling out Your beautiful name, the All-Living. Gardens and orchards, and birds and chicks are in a cheerful rush everywhere so that they can observe the beauty of the manifestation of Your “face.” The snow and the ice, and hail and storms accompany the composition of Your majesty and grandeur. The spring and the fall, and the night and the day make constant mention of You in their diverse languages, as they change colors, turning green, yellow, white, and black.

It is blindness not to have knowledge of You despite seeing all this, and it is ingratitude not to adore You in servitude while being blessed with Your favors in all places, at all times. It is our duty, as Your servants, to remember You all the time, and it is a need of our spirit to flee to You at every moment in every situation. What is left for us other than displaying our displeasure and taking a stand against those who deny Your mercy. It is the voice of conscience and the very requirement of being a loyal servant at Your door to not mention those people who do not mention You.

O the eternal King, even the dust of Whose doorway is kohl powder to apply in a fine line around our eyes! We are constantly on this journey since the day we achieved-or we supposed we achieved-an awareness of being on Your way, laying our head on Your doorstep. We enthuse our hearts through Your guidance and persevere to be Your guests. Your unceasing favors-which are reference to Your blessings for the future as well-give so much vitality to our hopes that we become distanced to everything and everybody, turning to You only with expectations that cannot fit even into our dreams. With the shackles of Your Messenger on our ankles and the collars from the divine will round our necks, we are zealous, determined, and bound by our oath to not let a stranger touch even one strand of hair on our head.

If we are like much-loved doves in Your private garden, then bless us with an unending breath and a tongue that never tires out in our requital for our existence and everything You have given us! We become enthusiastic only if You enthuse us and experience feelings that only You make us feel. We accept all that which is not from the Divine abode as senseless prattle and seek refuge in You from the tongue that does not mention You.

If all this is nothing but spelling out our state and situation to You, then loose any knot from our tongue, elevate our speech in the shade of Your speech, give our hearts steadfastness, and deepen and bolster our breaths with divine breaths. We cannot have anything if You do not give it to us; we can never drop a word if You do not cause us to speak. How can these poor wings of ours be capable of reaching the horizon of Your pleasure? How can this poor heart open up to the secrets of the treasury of the knowledge of You? How can this poor tongue be adequate to praise You? We are doubled up and ashamed of our withering conduct and grating talk, but at the same time we are relieved from worry due to our turning to Your immense lenience and mercy. Our sins are of the same magnitude as the revolt of those who have been sunk into the earth and our aloofness is within the borders of Your wrath; however, Your forgiveness is so immense that it will exterminate all wrongdoings and faults, and Your proximity is nearer to us than our jugular vein. Admit us not in accordance with our rebellion, but rather in accordance with Your forgiveness; treat us not with our remoteness, but with the warmth of proximity. Make us feel Your being with us, comfort our weak hearts, and foster our spirits with Your favors.

The ways ahead are difficult and steep: many evil spirits are waiting guardedly at every corner for an ostensible motive to attack, always wheeling out words of retrogression, backwardness, theocracy, and fundamentalism in their denunciatory language, holding every means and power in their hands, and a great many intrigues in their mind. O God, if we are against faith, knowledge, science, or progression in any way-as some claim-save us then from going in this wrong direction! If we are not good enough for this, take us then to Yourself and open the ways to those who are pious, refined, erudite, and progressive! If those who claim us to be as such are, however, in the wrong, then favor those among them whose spirits are open to faith and salvation with Your guidance; destroy the unity of those who obstinately persist in their deviance and who continually engage in evil! Bring their schemes to nothing and let them fall into their own traps! Leave them with unalleviated misery and sorrow! Safeguard the loyal servants of Your door and all the believers from the outrages, derision, scorn, and schemes of such evil minded, extremely wicked, and demonic people!

Open heart surgery is performed after putting the patient to sleep under a general anesthetic. The chest is then opened by the surgeon, and the heart is temporarily bypassed or deactivated for the duration of surgery (although in some new techniques like beating heart surgery or minimal invasion heart surgery, the operation is possible without deactivation of the heart) During this period the functions of the heart are performed by an artificial lung mechanism called the heart-lung machine (cardiopulmonary bypass machine). Performing surgery on a working heart cases where there is no facility for beating heart surgery would be like trying to repair the engine of a car while it is in motion. This is why it is necessary to temporarily prevent the functions of the heart during the operation, which requires great care and accuracy.

Stopping the heart

During this procedure the patient is connected to the machine, thin pipes called cannulae are inserted into the main veins which lead to the heart, and thus the blood which goes to the heart is directed into the heart-lung pump, fed with oxygen, and then redirected into the body. Preventing the function of the heart is not a very difficult process. When the heart-lung machine is activated and the blood is cooled and redirected into the blood vessels, the body temperature is reduced to below 30°C, and this lowers the heart rate and assists the heart to stop functioning. The actual stopping of the heart is performed by feeding a serum containing a concentrated solution of potassium ions into the coronary artery, which feeds the heart muscle. Potassium ions are normally found in the human body but in a fixed proportion; potassium is an electrolyte which, if increased, causes a defect in the heart’s rhythm and can lead to ceasing of the heart function. Feeding the coronary artery rapidly with a rich potassium solution causes the heart to stop within a few seconds and allows the surgeon to perform the operation on a non-functioning, motionless heart.

The heart should not be stopped from functioning for a long period, even if the heart-lung pump is performing the function of the heart successfully. Under normal conditions the pump cannot perform the whole duty of the actual heart and lungs. When the body temperature is reduced, there is a reduction of functioning in many organs of the body to such an extent that they almost stop working, especially the brain. This means that every organ freezes and if the patient’s pulse were taken within this period, they would be assessed as dead.

Restarting the heart

To restart the heart following the operation a reversal of the procedure performed at the beginning of surgery is necessary; the temperature of the body is increased to 36.5–37°C again with the help of the heart-lung pump, and at the same time the amount of potassium in the blood is reduced to a normal level. This is usually executed by ensuring the normal function of the kidneys which discard the potassium from the body. This is when the function of the heart is monitored closely because there is a reversal in the process of inducing low body temperature and the excess of potassium which caused the heart to stop. In other words, the barrier which stopped the flowing river is removed; therefore, according to the laws of physics, the trapped fluid should flow again at great speed, and although following surgery the majority of hearts do begin to function again when these procedures are performed, there is unfortunately no actual guarantee. There may be certain complications or even causes which we have not yet discovered, in which case an electric shock of 10–20 joules is delivered directly to the heart muscle to encourage it to function normally. If this is unsuccessful, medication such as adrenalin, which induces the functioning of the heart, is given to the patient. If, following these repeated procedures, there is no effect, and, regardless of all the effort, the heart does not function, then everything is performed again from the beginning, including the operation. But there is always the possibility that the desired result may not be achieved. Human beings always face the prospect of death in daily life, and although there is a very slim chance of death, with such a big operation there is always the possibility.

The result

We are normally totally unaware of the rhythmic incidents, a combination of great harmony, occurring within our bodies. Even breathing, a necessity for every living creature to stay alive, is not an action which we activate and continue of our own will. Sight, hearing, hunger and senses are acts of nature over which we have little direct will or power. Nevertheless, they are all events which we can only describe as divine miracles and what a great blessing it is that none of these complex functions of our bodies have been left to us humans.

The day that my daughter and I were headed to the airport, my new Turkish friend, Abdurrahman, who has been visiting our church for the last two years as a gesture of peace and global tolerance, asked me about the word “tolerance.”

It had come to his attention that tolerance can mean something negative. “I want more than to have someone simply tolerate me!” a colleague told him.

The conversation stuck with me on my flight to Istanbul and for the next couple of days. Then somewhere near the ancient cities of Lystra, Derbe and Iconium, my thoughts took shape and I wrote this essay entitled “Tolerance.”

“What is tolerance?” It is not all good. At its basest level – Level 1 – it is putting up with another, sitting on clenched fist. It is not trust. It is not friendship. It is a truce. “If I let you be, will you let me be?” And this is what we call tolerance.

Sometimes, and these times are beautiful, tolerance reaches a second level – Level 2 – it is talking. It may not seem like tolerance. Sometimes it is loud. Sometimes it is awkward. Sometimes it is offensive. It is like learning how to dance, but it is growth.

“This is who I am. This is what I believe! This is what I eat! This is how I dress and worship!”

We learn a little about each other. And this is tolerance.

Quietness sets in, and then, almost as if on its own, tolerance grows – Level 3. It is listening. Trust has begun to replace suspicion. Question marks replace exclamation points. “Tell me about yourself: What is your family like? Your faith? Your home?”

Jaws relax. Hands open and sometimes are even clasped together rather than clenched. Smiles replace suspicion, and we learn. Most people see this as tolerance, but there are more stages, more beautiful, relational transformations.

As stone silence gives way to talking and talking yields to listening … as hands go from being clenched to opened to clasped, another level of tolerance emerges: Level 4. It is respect.

There is an appreciation for the other. You are just as much a person as I. Your family has fears and hopes even as mine does. You cry and laugh and worry and pray as I do. The balance has shifted to where we see eye to eye without condescension. This is tolerance.

Respect is a beautiful stage in the process of tolerance. As it grows and stories are shared, we reach another level of tolerance, almost by accident – Level 5 – it is our story. Somehow as I told you my story and you told me your story, we were writing our story. We shared watermelon on the rooftop. We sang songs in the night air. Remember, we started singing separately, but ended singing together.

Our story. Our memories. Community. Tolerance.

It has come so far, this concept of tolerance, from truce to trust, from respect to relationships, from sharing stories to shaping stories. And yet there is more: Level 6. It is friendship. Solidarity. I now like you and you like me. I think of you when you are absent. I smile when I see you, and you smile, too. Handshakes have given way to embraces; nods are replaced by pats on the back and the mussing of hair. Reunions are arranged, future contacts desired.

I am no longer curious; I care. I truly care for you my friend, for your family, for your country. And this is tolerance.

Seven is the perfect number. There are seven days of the week, seven seals in Revelation, and there are seven levels to tolerance. Level 7? It is love.

Walls are removed, suspicions are relaxed, reservations are repealed. Eyes sparkle with delight rather than peering for inconsistencies and flaws. Your pain causes me to hurt. Your joy causes me to laugh. Your pleasure brings me delight. Hands are held, not just shaken. Souls embrace as well as arms. We are brothers, sisters, siblings. We are certain that God loves us and that God expects us to love each other, and we are elated to comply.

Tolerance has been made complete in love and perfect love casts out all fear.

“What is tolerance?” I was once asked.

It is truce: Sitting on clenched fist.

It is talking: Claiming my rights, my story.

It is listening: Being open to your story.

It is respect: Clasping hands together in trust.

It is one story: Creating shared moments.

It is friendship: Genuine caring.

It is love: Expressing complete, mature, perfect love.

It is God’s desire for our world. It is our world’s only hope and it is my desire. Tolerance.

Originally published at www.theeagle.com. The Bryan-College Station Eagle.