Being barely enough while overcoming all challenges
Desires pulling me in all directions
The first and the last advice in all of this
I have a job to do

Receiving accolades or battered with hatred
Regardless, I will change it, I will save it
At the 11th hour, never a dull moment
It’s never enough
I have a job to do

Collecting almosts all the way to the top
Running, panting, almost giving up
While grabbing, dragging, shouldering nonstop
And tumbling over the final mark
‘cuz I have a job to do

Any minute now the journey can end
Or everything can be snatched
Yet, I can’t stop here, I can’t rest
My dream, my passion, my love
I have a job to do

And the answer is, this is a man who loved. This is a man who loved Allah with passion and strength. He loved Islam with passion. He loved humans with passion. Not just Muslims. He loved Muslims, but he loved humanity. And that is his secret. That is what allowed someone who came from nothing and left with nothing to change so much.

The question that we must ask ourselves, friend and foe, and it is an important question: What did he leave behind? Did he leave behind a palace with a thousand rooms or a library with a thousand books? Did he leave behind a trail of tears because of injustice and pain? Or a trail of tears because of the love in the hearts of the people, some of whom never met him? Did he leave behind cars and gold and silver and bank accounts? He left with his garment and left nothing else behind, but his legacy and the love in your hearts that he sow.

I have a message from him, if I may be so pretentious. I can hear him say to you: “Hizmet was never about me. It was always about you. Don’t make it about me. I never asked you to make it about me. It’s about you and your power. Your power to love and your power to transform. I was not given a special power. Only, I found my power through the love of Allah. Find your power through the love of Allah and the love of humanity. And you will transform as well.”

He left behind books, institutions, and soft hearts. That’s the only legacy you left behind. All those who doubted, all the cynics, all those who pointed fingers, all those who sowed false narratives: that’s what he left behind. He started his career in a cold, barren window in a mosque in the city of Edirne in Turkey. And he left in a small room in Pennsylvania. That was his first abode in palace, and that was his last abode in palace, and transformed the world in between. Not in the sense of revolution, not in the sense of political ideology, not in the sense of creating tribe and nationalism and flag, but in the sense of sowing love in the hearts that then transformed other hearts, and so the fire of love goes.

I knew him not through him, but through you. I knew he was your family and came to love him. Because, as we say in Christianity, “You shall know them by their fruit.” And I knew him by his fruit. There was not a member of Hizmet I have met other than respect and admiration. Who is the teacher who taught these people?

Intelligence is for everybody. Capabilities for everyone. That’s not what impresses. And there are tons of it here. But what’s unique about this movement is the humility and the dedication and the perseverance and the lack of ego and the love of humanity. That is what made me an admirer of the Hizmet. I sing its praises everywhere. I shall remain an admirer and a friend till the last breath of my life.

Prophet Moses, upon him be peace, expresses this degree of passion that burns endurance to ashes with the desire of union in the words (20:84), I have hastened to You, my Lord, so that You may be well-pleased (with me). He manifests his extraordinary yearning and excitement to meet with his Lord.

There is another kind of passion manifesting itself in the form of distress in figurative love—the love felt by a person for one of the opposite sex—and that arises from the worry that the beloved may be loved by others. Jami‘ expresses such passion as follows:

When one says that he is a lover, this casts me into worry and distress,
for I am afraid that he is in love with my beloved.

Such passion should not be confused with the passion an initiate feels on the way to God. All sorrows and joys felt on this way are because of Him and from Him. For this reason, any pain or sorrow a traveler to God feels is sweet in itself, and the pleasures are as pleasant as the water of Paradise.

When the zeal and yearning felt to meet with the All-Beloved come to an unendurable point, whatever there is in the heart other than the desire for union vanishes. It even happens that love is, to a certain extent, not considered any more, and seekers progress to the following states according to the intensity of their passion:

• All things, each according to its own “wavelength,” begin to tire the seeker; the result is that at times the heart feels a desire for union with Him, while at other times it burns with the yearning to die to meet with Him eternally. The fire is so great that the seeker sees none other than Him.

• Despite corporeality and bodily desires, the seeker begins to be so immersed in profound spiritual life that neither reason nor will-power retain the capacity to control or give direction. As a result, the person cannot help falling into confusion in matters that require the ordinary operations of common sense and discernment:

I did not know myself as I see me now,
I wonder whether He is me or I am Him?

Not only in the performance of duties of worship and obedience to God, but also in worldly affairs the seeker now travels on the horizons of witnessing God’s signs distinctly.

• When the veil between a hero of passion and the All-Beloved is partly lifted so that the way to union shows itself to some degree, the initiate goes into a spiritual state of being seized by a fire from which there is no longer any possibility of rescue or escape. The initiate thinks of nothing more than meeting with the Truly Beloved One. The lover is at the same time as being a lover also a beloved, a willed one at the same time as being one who wills, and one sought for at the same time as one who is seeking.

It can be said that in the state in which he was before he began to receive the Revelation, God’s Messenger experienced the first two kinds of passion mentioned in accordance with his progress along the way particular to him. The following verses that we quote from a long poem of Yazıcızade Mehmed Efendi express this in a chaste language:

Why is it that you stay in such a sorrowful mood?
Why is it that there is sadness in your blessed inner world?
….
Without answering them, he turned back again
to where he stayed and unburdened himself to the Almighty.
….
He said: “My heart is in love and desire; my soul is on fire;
Why are these tears coming from my eyes, O Never-ending All-Ruling?
I have lost my patience, having come to the end of my endurance;
What can I say to my Beloved?
I have no strength to bear all that takes place.
….
Climbing the mountain, he prostrated, putting his face on the earth;
He wept and entreated God, saying: “O One never-ending!”
The angels saw him and pitied him,
and the maidens in Paradise shed their tears:
“O God! Your beloved one has made his upright body doubled over.”

Bilal al-Habashi and many other Companions of the Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, made utterances which expressed their burning desire to meet with their dear ones: “Tomorrow, I will join the friends—Muhammad and his Companions,” is only one example of these.

The one who feels the greatest passion is also the Prophet, the master of all creatures, upon him be peace and blessings. At a time when the world offered itself to him with all its pomp and splendor, as the greatest of all creation, as one who had completed his duty and had come to the point where he could express his yearning for union with the Truly Beloved One, he said, “O my God! (Now it is time to go) to the Highest Friend!” and turned with all his being to the Absolutely Beloved One with the desire of fulfilling what was required of him by the rank of being beloved by Him. He put a full stop to the lines of ascent and descent by proving that he uniquely enjoyed the rank of being His beloved one. He was no longer Muhammad but was transformed into being Ahmad, and fully perceived that whatever he had and accomplished was all from God.

On him and his Family be the most perfect of blessings to the fullness of the heavens and the earth.

In order to shed light on this matter, I would like to reference a part of the movie The Truman Show. In this movie, a man’s life is continuously recorded and broadcast worldwide as a TV show. From babyhood on, his life is completely planned, and many of his major life events are designed by the makers of the show. However, all of this is unbeknownst to the main character, Truman. As he grows into his elementary school years, he develops a passion for exploring the world. But this would mean that he would have to leave the movie set, which by now covers a huge area and is deliberately surrounded by water, giving the impression that Truman is living on an island. So, in order to avoid his departure from the movie set and in order not to violate his freedom of choice at the same time, the moviemakers do two things. First, a set-up is made in which Truman’s father drowns in the sea when he and Truman were caught in a storm while sailing. Thus, a negative psychological association is used in order to keep Truman away from the sea. In Truman’s later years, the show’s architects assign a geography teacher who consistently curtails Truman’s passion for exploration. Anytime he expresses interest in exploring a place, his teacher tells him that it has already been done. The plan of the show’s makers works; Truman buries his passion for exploration deep into his heart.

Before returning to our topic, I would also like to mention the main idea of a TEDx talk by Nate Staniforth. Nate is a performing magician from Iowa City, and he visits kids, some of them as young as kindergarteners, for a purpose he believes in: helping people experience awe. At the end of his talk, his advice to the audience is that when you see a trick, instead of quickly going on-line and learning how it is done, take your time and experience the awe for a while. If you don’t, learning the reality behind the trick is going to instantly destroy the feelings of awe and amazement. This is similar to someone telling you a joke, and in the middle of it, another person who already knows the joke revealing the punch line, which ruins all the entertainment.

People are created with different levels of interest in math and science. For a small minority, these subjects are inherently attractive, but for quite a lot of people, they are no more than a school obligation. But these views can change. Sometimes, students develop at different paces, and after a few years of showing no interest, they start to have a passion for math or science. And sooner or later, when they have that passion, suddenly, the life stories of different scientists electrify their imagination. The path leading to an innovation or a theory energizes the blood in their veins. When they get to the moment at which the long-sought explanation is revealed, they feel as if they themselves have found it. And when they are presented with an experiment that includes new and surprising concepts, they imagine themselves at the outset of a great journey. Symphonies start playing their most exhilarating notes in their minds.

Then what happens? Well, we don’t allow them time to experience this feeling of awe and amazement for long. Before they have the opportunity to use their imagination and intellect, we present them with an explanation and a mathematical formula that has been experimentally verified. And in doing this, the language of instruction involves authoritative phrases like, “this phenomenon is known as…,” “the governing equation is…,” “the explanation for the rate of change is controlled by…” For some of the students, these explanations seem more complicated than the phenomena themselves. For others, they mean that there is an explanation as to how something seemingly magical is happening. The more we stress explanations, the stronger the impression that “everything is known, and you can’t touch this.”

For many of them, the story ends here, which means by enriching science education and growing the list of explanations, we are actually channeling students away from science towards the things they can experiment and explore with: smart phones, computer games, etc.

However, this is not the whole story, because there are students, despite being few in number, who still enjoy learning these explanations. Although the original awe loses its strength upon learning the explanation, the existence of an answer, and humanity’s ability to discover it, bring a new kind of awe. This is good, but what is the difference between these people who enjoy learning the explanations and those who don’t?

I am going to use a metaphor to solve this puzzle. When we look upon the night sky, we see only points of light. However, today we know that some of these lights are actually galaxies, containing billions of stars. And we also know that there are other points of light that are invisible to the unaided human eye. How do we know this? We have telescopes that enhance our vision. They work as follows: the larger the mirror of the telescope, the higher the resolution (i.e., the zoom-in capability). With larger telescopes, we can see into galaxies that, from afar, seem like dots in the sky. Also, in order to see some distant bodies, telescopes need a very long exposure time to collect sufficient light from them. These two factors – a larger eye and a longer wait time – determine how deeply we can see into the universe.

Looking back to the issue of science education through these two factors, most students either don’t have a wide enough intellectual perspective to grasp the beauties that are hidden in the big picture or they don’t have enough patience to work on finding the phenomena that are invisible at first glance. But these deficiencies are not just on the student’s side. It is also possible that the teachers themselves cannot see the big picture and the accompanying awe, which leaves the students helpless. Lastly, the curriculums may not be giving enough time for the students to digest the new material and feel the joy of discovery.

In his article, A Rationale for Fiction, which appeared in the 49th issue of The Fountain, Firat Kocol talks about classifying knowledge into two categories: transferable and nontransferable. For example, basic addition would be transferable, but feelings of surprise would be nontransferable. In real life, there is a varying mix of these two types of knowledge. In any event, Kocol claims that nontransferable knowledge can only be evoked in the audience through fiction, be it in the form of art, story, or music.

When we think in terms of science education, it is not difficult to see that all of our efforts are aimed at the transferable aspects of science. The nontransferable side of it, such as the feeling of awe, is ignored. Instead, the feelings of awe and amazement are considered as the job of the entertainment industry, powered by audio-visual technologies. After all, feelings are not scientific, anyway (or so the logic goes!). Hence, as science education has ignored the human soul, the human soul has started ignoring science.

Perhaps it is like Truman’s psychological aversion to sea travel: when we see the feeling of awe drown in a sea of information, we turn away from it, and that information cannot become a part of us. But again: why awe? Why is this feeling of awe and amazement so important for us? Why, when it is absent, do we disconnect ourselves from a subject?

Awe is a reverential feeling we have when faced with something unpredictable. The unknown relationship between the start and the end bewilders our minds. In other words, awe is the attraction of the unknown, not that of the known. Therefore, a body of knowledge that appears to have an answer for all the questions in the mind of the student has no relation to awe! This is even truer if that body of knowledge claims to be unique, and shuts the door of unpredictability.

This is contrary to the image of science in our minds, isn’t it? Why should a complete and consistent theory of everything be repulsive to the human mind, when that mind that has been working on that puzzle for thousands of years?

Luckily, a mathematician from the early 20th century stumbled upon something similar, and his answer, known as Gödel’s incompleteness theorem, perplexed the community of mathematicians. Taking this theory as basis, we can say that it is impossible for a body of knowledge to have a complete and consistent explanation for everything. In other words, science cannot achieve what it wants to ultimately achieve. It’s logical that this failure would trickle down to science education, too.

But how can students feel this fallacy when they are not even capable of understanding it? The answer lies in the nontransferable aspect of the taught material. Just like you don’t need to know the molecular content of a food in order to feel that it is rotten, the inhibition of awe is enough for a student’s mind to disregard a body of knowledge because it feels off.

Just like the existence of light in the outer world and the existence of eyes in our bodies necessitate each other, the existence of incompleteness and inconsistencies in the outer world necessitate the feeling of awe. The feeling of awe wants the door of unpredictability open.

This can lead to only one conclusion: that we must reincorporate awe into our science education, teaching students to feel amazement when faced with extraordinary, or even ordinary, events. If we don’t do this, the status of math and the sciences will continue to deteriorate among newer generations.

Science in the Islamic world flourished between the eighth and the eleventh century CE. If there had been a Nobel Prize in that period, on most occasions it would have gone to a Muslim scientist, but the situation is quite different today. Why did scientific discovery decline in the Muslim world? What should Muslims do to regain the excellence in science that they once had? What are the current prospects in this respect in the Islamic world? To find answers to these questions, we talked to Ahmed Zewail about his own fascinating journey to the Nobel Prize and his views about science in the Islamic world.

About Professor Ahmed Zewail

Professor Zewail completed his undergraduate education the University of Alexandria, Egypt, and his doctorate at the University of Pennsylvania. His honors include more than a hundred prizes, awards, orders of merit, and orders of state from around the world. Professor Zewail was awarded the 1999 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for his pioneering developments in the field of femtoscience, making it possible to observe the movement of the individual atoms in a femtosecond, that is, a millionth of a billionth of a second.

Professor Zewail is also renowned for his public lectures and writings on science and technology, education and world affairs, and for his tireless efforts to help the have-nots. In his recent biography Voyage through Time-Walks of Life to the Nobel Prize, he relates his life and work up to his receipt of the Nobel Prize, and he suggests a concrete course of action for the world of the have-nots and a new vision of world order.

In one of your recent commentaries in the Independent newspaper, you quote a beautiful verse from the Qur’an “Indeed! God will not change the good condition of the people as long as they do not change their state of goodness themselves” (Rad 13:11). Why did you quote this verse?

If you look at the height of Muslim achievement, Muslims were then acting individually as good Muslims, meaning that they read the Qur’an and they thought of the good things they were supposed to do, for example, to acquire knowledge. As you know, the first word that was revealed of the Qur’an was “read” and this respect for learning is repeated everywhere to the point that scientists of magnitude are almost put on the level of prophets in many ways in the Qur’an. So the Muslims of the early days recognized the importance of acquiring knowledge, but frankly, nowadays because of the deterioration that has taken place among the Muslims, we have become so possessed by the idea of conspiracy theories that we like to blame other people for our decline.

There is no doubt in my mind that there are many external forces that have contributed to our decline, but the truth of the matter is that it falls to us to do better. I am proud to see any Muslim, young or old, achieving at the highest level. In every case I see, I realize that these people did not let external things stop them and they have gone on to achieve. So I can summarize the reasons for our general decline, and I’m taking it verbatim from the Qur’an, as being our own problem.

In your book, you say, “The Sidi Ibrahim al-Desuqi mosque was very important in my life because it defined my early childhood. I used to go to the mosque to study… In Islam, the mosque is not just for prayer, but it is also for scholarship” (p. 15). Do you think this remains true?

Unfortunately, in recent years the mosque has been used by people who are not enlightened about Islam to propagate their point of view, not Islam’s point of view, so a political component has grown in it. It’s a lack of enlightenment on these people’s part. Growing up in Egypt, I remember Al-Azhar as being one of the centers of enlightenment of the world. Now, I didn’t reach Al-Azhar but on the other hand, even in my own town there was a mosque where we used to go and see the Imam, and the main thing he would try to tell us as young boys was that “you’ve got to achieve in knowledge; you’ve got to be the best doctor or the best engineer.” We used to study in the mosque. It was marvelous. I mean, we would meet as young people in the mosque-of course, we would pray-but then after we had prayed, we would all sit down and look at our school books and our study notes, and so it was a center of gravity. In fact, in my book I say that the mosque was the center of gravity for the whole town.

In a number of places in the book you talk about the importance of “having a passion” to achieve something. Have we, as Muslims, lost our passion for science and scholarship? If so, how can we reignite this in the younger generations?

I don’t think we have lost our passion, no. Especially since the Nobel Prize, I have spoken all over the Muslim world from Cairo to Malaysia, from Istanbul to Lebanon, and thousands of people come to my lectures. What I have found is that young people are hungry to achieve-they have that passion for achievement. The problem, unfortunately, is that they are not in the right system to make them realize their potential. So, I always say that the biggest asset right now in the Muslim world is actually its human capital. If this is used in the right way and we rebuild the old centers of excellence to attract the best minds, I believe that the Muslim world can undergo a huge transition. There are political issues, and a lot of political problems, but I don’t think that the problem with the Muslim world is lack of economic resources or lack of human capital. We have both types of resources.

Some people argue that religion and science cannot coexist. What is your take on this issue?

Some of the best minds in the world are religious people. So the claim that in order to be a rational scientist, by definition, you must not believe in a religion is a bit naïve. It seems to me also that it is quite strongly dogmatic. Religion is very important for people for a variety of reasons and I don’t see a conflict between the two.

What do you think about The Fountain, especially from the perspective of promoting the coexistence of science and religion?

Let me tell you why I like The Fountain and, as you know, I subscribe to it. I thank you for introducing me to it. The reason I like The Fountain is that it tends to explain things with reason and in a rational way, but it doesn’t stop the writers utilizing excerpts from the Qur’an that support their argument. But I need the rationality. It seems to me that the fact that the magazine uses this approach and respects the values of reason and knowledge and science will make it more effective.

Do you see the success of people like yourself and Abdus Salam as exceptional individual cases, or as early signs of a revival in the Islamic world?

Not early signs of revival, I always say that I’ve been fortunate to gain two things from my early childhood and my adulthood. First, I’m very proud of the value system that I was given by my family and the way I grew up as a Muslim in Egypt. I did not grow up in a system where I got into drugs and violence; I had never seen a gun before I left Egypt. The values that I acquired from my family were extremely important and gave me confidence for what I have achieved in my life. But besides that and importantly, I did get a good education in Egypt up to the level of university. What America has given me is a system of appreciation and opportunity, and that is what we are lacking in the Muslim world. If I had stayed in Egypt, I would not have been able to do what I have done because of this lack of opportunity and appreciation for achievement.

Let me give you another example; part of the Muslim world is very poor, but there is a big part of it that is very rich. The very rich part has not invested in the human capital. On the other hand, on a recent trip to Malaysia, I met Dr. Mahathir Mohammed, the former prime minister. Now, Malaysia is a country 60% of whose population is Muslim. It is possible to see the results of the experiment that has been carried out in Malaysia. Malaysia has made a transition-its GDP is much higher than most Muslim countries, and they are moving into the developed world-and this has been done in a country with a 60% Muslim population. What they did was to invest in education. Dr. Mohammed told me that, in order to make the transition from an almost underdeveloped economy depending on tin and rubber into one producing micro-electronics and the like, they invested as much as 20% of the GDP in education. So I think the formula is very, very clear in terms of what you can get out of this.

In one of your recent newspaper articles, you mention that one of the primary goals of education in the Muslim world should be “to promote critical thinking.” What do you mean by critical thinking?

Young people are very confused right now; they don’t know what is wrong and what is right. What I mean by critical thinking is that we all have been given the gift of the mind to think, so we should educate the people to think about what’s morally right and what’s morally wrong, but let them also think about, for example, science. There is nothing wrong with studying different points of view about what’s going on in the universe. If you are a good Muslim, it’s up to you-you have the garden of knowledge and you choose what you think. But to intimidate people and say things like “You cannot do this, don’t do that, don’t read about this…” that’s not critical thinking! That’s not what we need.

The Prophet would not allow that forbidding attitude today in my opinion because he was progressive in his thinking; his is a message of peace and critical thinking. In the twenty-first century now, people are thinking about having colonies on the moon, people are thinking about dissecting genes and opening up a whole new world of treatment for molecular diseases, people are thinking about watching atoms on the femtosecond timescale. And we as Muslims need to keep up with this.

You say in the book, “We should not divide the world into ‘us’ and ‘them’ and must not allow for the creation of barriers through slogans such as the ‘clash of civilizations’ or the ‘conflict of religions’-we need dialogue not conflict or clashes!” What do you think is the best way of achieving this dialogue?

Let me say, and perhaps I am putting this too strongly, that I think there is ignorance on both sides. There is a large proportion of the population in the Muslim world that I feel is not informed; they are not sophisticated enough to speak to the mind of the west. On the other hand, in the west they have neglected to learn about the Muslim world for a long time and treat it as if there must necessarily be a conflict with Muslims. With this kind of attitude on both sides, we can never get into dialogue.

You know, when I first came to the United States, they used to call the Japanese “the Japs” and the Chinese “the Red Chinese” and so on. Nowadays, because there has been a dialogue and we are starting to understand different cultures, there are Chinese and Japanese restaurants all over the country. China has McDonalds… But we have not done this as far as the Muslim world is concerned. For example, what do they know here in the US about Turkish culture? It could be a start to take the story of the Ottoman Empire and let them learn about the baklava and Turkish hospitality. The same thing is true for the Arabs. We have not done a good job, and on their side I must say they have neglected for a long time to develop any knowledge of the Muslim world or to understand faith or the strong feelings of the Muslims about their faith.

On the individual level, both sides need to be exposed to each other more, and here exchange programs and all kinds of education centers can help. But I tend to put more blame on the Muslim world because we have not taken the initiative to communicate about ourselves as much as the rest of the world does.

You live in California with your wife and two children. How do you keep the balance of work and family life and other personal issues?

I have been fortunate in this because my wife’s father is a professor and she has seen what it means for somebody to work hard, so she knows. She has said many times that my first love is my work. However, having said that, I think my children will say that I am a caring father. I try to balance things. For example, I always spend Sundays with my children; even if I’m staying home reading, they are around me. I see them, I go with them to soccer games, and so on. If you don’t, if you take it to the extreme and you claim that your work is everything, then you have weakened a whole corner of your life, and I don’t believe you will have the strength to do many other things in life.

What is it that keeps you so motivated even after getting a Nobel Prize? Does your background as a Muslim play a role in this?

I think it is a composite of things. First of all, God created me with a passion for whatever I do. If I read a book, I have the passion to finish it. The other thing is my background, as you said. When I came to the United States, I was challenged. As I mention in my book, there were political barriers, there were cultural barriers and scientific barriers. So I was challenged to show that somebody with my background, someone who is a Muslim and grew up with mosques and everything like that can achieve something.

Nowadays, I also try to go beyond the Nobel Prize, and I ask myself if I can help people and if I can help science in general. Perhaps also because of my upbringing and the mosque, I have faith. So I think it’s that kind of faith in life, in the universe, in myself, and in God, of course-all of this makes me who I am.

Nuh Gedik is an Assistant Professor of Physics at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Before moving to MIT, he worked as a postdoctoral scholar at Caltech in the research group of Prof. Ahmed Zewail.

Rumi is one such personality. Despite the vast amount of time that separates his life from ours, Rumi continues to hear and to listen to us, to share our feelings, to present solutions to our problems in a voice that is without equal. Despite the fact that he lived some centuries ago, he remains absolutely alive among and with us today. He is a man of light-one who receives his light from the spirit of the Master of Humanity (Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him), distributing this light in a variety of manners to just about everywhere. He was chosen to be one of the world’s saints and to be pure of heart; a blessed one whose words are outstanding among those of the heroes of love and passion. He was and continues to function as Israfil; blowing life into dead spirits. He did and continues to provide the water of life to the barren hearts of many; a spiritual irrigation. He was and continues to provide light for the travelers on their paths. He was and continues to be the perfect heir of the Prophet.

Jalaladdin al-Rumi, a man of God, hastened toward God on his own spiritual journey; but in addition to this he evoked similar journeys in countless others-journeys marked by an eager striving toward God. He was a balanced man of ecstasy who sprang alive with love and excitement; he did this to such an extent that he inspired in others these significant feelings; he continues to do so. In addition to his passion for God, along with his knowledge and love of Him, Rumi is further renowned as a hero in terms of both his respect and fear of God. He was and continues to be one who beckons; whose powerful voice invites everyone to the truth and the ultimate blessed reality. Rumi was an inclusive master whose joy was a direct consequence of His joy, whose love and passion were the result of His special favors to Rumi. His life provides real evidence of the Truth. At the same time as he spoke to those of his own times in an effective manner, Rumi was even more influential in that he made his voice and breath, which reflected the voice and breath of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, continue to be heard for centuries after. He spoke with such an enchanting voice that he was able to guide not only his blessed contemporaries, but also people of our time, centuries removed from his physical existence. God bestowed upon him this important duty. For this purpose, God blessed him with impeccable inner and outer qualities so that he would prove successful in this undertaking. His heart was full of the Divine light. As such, his essence is marked by his wisdom, which shines like a light reflected through a precious gem. His inner-most self was enveloped with Divine mysteries. His inner eyes were enlightened by this special light.

On this horizon, Jalaladdin al-Rumi represents the North Star, the heart of the circle of guidance for his time. He embodies the characteristics of the lamp of sainthood, taking its light from that of the truth of the Prophet. Many of God’s blessed creatures are instinctively attracted to light; Rumi’s light has attracted hundreds of thousands spiritual butterflies; they are drawn to the light. He represents a guide for humanity’s quest for the perfection of human qualities. Rumi was a careful exegete of the truths presented in the Qur’an. A fluent interpreter of love and zeal for Prophet Muhammad, Rumi was able to use a mysterious language to guide others to a love of God. Those who enter his sphere are able to reach an ultimate sense or feeling in the presence of God. Those who examine the Qur’an by his guideposts underwent changes (and continue to undergo changes) similar to those witnessed by the people who lived in the era of the Prophet himself, peace and blessings be upon him. When the verses of the Qur’an were interpreted by Rumi’s closest associates, all hearts benefited from the illumination provided by his wisdom; it was as if all of heaven’s mysteries were opened by his wholehearted recitation of that one word-God.

Rumi’s love for God was a fiery one, with a constant moaning and longing for the mysteries of God. He experienced a love and passion both in his solitary asceticism and his activities in the community. It was in his solitariness that he became most open to the truest union with God, and it was in such cases of separation from all things except God that he became like a ball of fire. And while such a sense of burning would prove difficult for many to bear, Rumi never showed any signs of discontent. Rather, such a burning was considered a requirement for passion, and refraining from complaint was seen to be in the tradition of loyalty. For Rumi, those who profess a love of God must necessarily accompany their statement of “I love” with a sense of furious burning-this is the price one must willingly pay for being close or in union with God. Additionally, one must engage in behavior that is to a large extent ascetic, such as moderated eating, drinking, sleeping, and a constant awareness and orientation toward God in one’s speech, and one must inevitably experience bewilderment when endowed with God’s bounties.

Rumi cannot understand how a lover can sleep in an immoderate way, as it takes away from the time that can be shared with the Beloved. For him, excessive sleep is offensive to the Beloved. As God instructed David, saying, “O David, those who indulge in sleep without contemplating Me and then claim to be in love are liars” so too did Rumi state; “When the darkness falls, lovers become intense.” Rumi continually recommended this not only in words, but also in his actions.

The following quotation from his Divan al-Kabir best represents several droplets from the ocean of his feelings and excitement, erupting like a volcano:

I am like Majnun(1) in my poor heart, which is without limbs, because I have no strength to contest the love of God. Every day and night I continue in my efforts to free myself from the bounds of the chain of love; a chain which keeps me imprisoned. When the dream of the Beloved begins I find myself in blood. Because I am not fully conscious, I am afraid in that I may paint Him with the blood of my heart. In fact, You, O Beloved, must ask the fairies; they know how I have burned through the night. Everyone has gone to sleep. But I, the one who has given his heart to You, do not know sleep like them. Throughout the night, my eyes look at the sky, counting the stars. His love so profoundly took my sleep that I do not really believe it will ever come back.

If the spirit of the anthology of Rumi’s poems, which are the essence of love, passion, divine presence, and excitement, were to be extracted, what would exude are the cries of love, longing, and hope. Throughout his life Rumi expressed love, and in turn, he believed he was beloved because of this. Accordingly, he spoke of his love and relationship with Him. When he did so, he was not alone-he took along with him many blessed individuals who were his audience. He thought that his offering, cup by cup, the drinks presented to him on the heavenly table to others who were in his circle of light to be a sign of loyalty.

Thus, the following quotation represents the ambiguous chanting that is reflected in his heavenly travels:

The Buraq(2) of love has taken my mind as well as my heart, do not ask me where. I have reached such a realm that there is no moon, nor day. I have reached a world where the world is no longer the world.

This spiritual journey of Rumi was an ascension in the shadow of the Ascension of the Prophet, which is described by Suleyman Celebi (the author of the Turkish Mevlid-recited in the commemoration of the birth of the Prophet) in these words: “There was no space, no Earth, and no heavens.” What his soul heard and watched was a special reflection of His courtesy, which cannot be seen by the eyes, cannot be heard by the ears, and cannot be comprehended by one’s mind or thought. Such reflections are not attainable by all. Rumi spiritually ascended and saw, tasted, and knew all that was possible for a mortal being. Those who do not see cannot know. Those who do not taste cannot feel. Those who are capable of feeling in this manner generally do not divulge the secrets that they have attained. And those who do reveal these secrets often find them to be above the level of the comprehension of most people. As the famous Turkish poet Seyh Galib said, “The Beloved’s candle has such a wonderful light, its light does not fit into the lamp glass of Heaven.”

The love, relationship, and warmth toward all creation as expressed by Rumi is a projection of a deeply-rooted divine love. Rumi, whose nature was intoxicated by the cup of love, embraced all of creation with a projection of that love. He was involved in a dialogue with every creature, and all of these were a result of nothing but his deep love of God and his relationship with the Beloved.

I believe that these disordered and somewhat confused explanations are far from adequate to describe Rumi. This disorder is an inevitable result of my search for a relationship with him. A droplet cannot describe the ocean, nor can an atom describe the Sun. Even so, since his light falls once again on this Earth, I would like to say, within a few sentences, some words about Jalaladdin al-Rumi.

Rumi was born in the city of Balkh in 1207, at a time when all of Asia was suffering from social, political, and military problems. His father, Muhammad Bahauddin al-Siddiqi, was part of the tenth generation of the descendants of Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, the first caliph of Islam. According to Tahir al-Mawlawi, Rumi”s mother was also from the descendants of the Prophet. He was the blessed fruit of a hallowed family tree. Being known as the Sultan al-Ulama (the Leader of Scholars), his father was a man of truth and an heir of the Prophet. Like many friends of God, he was persecuted and eventually compelled to migrate. Accordingly, he left the land of Kharzam, where he was born, and underwent a lengthy journey that encompassed various destinations. First, he and his family visited the Holy Land, the cities of Makka and Madina. From here, he traveled and remained for some time in Damascus, where he met many pious persons, such as Ibn Arabi, and exchanged spiritual enlightenment with them. Accompanying his father, the young Rumi, six or seven years in age, witnessed these and other events; his inquisitive senses enabled him to experience all of these with remarkable clarity. The young Rumi was able to understand his environment even at such a tender age and he was able to penetrate into the secret world of Ibn Arabi. As an endowment of his presence with Ibn Arabi, the child received kindness and favors. Despite the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their migration and the many difficulties that accompanied them, the family”s journey provided them with a variety of favors and inspiration. Like Abraham, Moses, and the Prophet of Islam, may God”s blessings be upon all of them, Rumi was able to continuously find these blessings and favors. Welcoming what fate gave him, he became a receiver of numerous bounties provided by God. The journey took this blessed family to the city of Erzincan, and later to that of Karaman. It was during his time in the latter city that Rumi studied, for a short period, in the Halaveye School. In addition to this school, he studied Islamic Sciences in several religious schools in Damascus and Aleppo. After graduating, he returned to the city of Konya, which he considered his hometown and a place of special regard. It was there that he married Gevher Hatun, the daughter of Shamsaddin Samarqandi. After some time Rumi”s father, Sultan al-Ulama, died, returning to God. Under the supervision of Burhanneddin al-Tirmidhi, Rumi began his long spiritual journey. After several years, at the suggestion of Ruknuddin Zarqubi, Rumi met with Shams al-Tabrizi who was then on a visit to Konya. It was through his meeting with Shams that he furthered his spiritual journey and eventually developed into the person who is now known the world over for his spiritual depth. What has been mentioned so far, in fact, represents an attempt to open a few small windows on the life of an exceptional personality in this creation, whose capacity is open to the lofty world. This is also an attempt to present the life of an important representative of the Muhammadi spirit (i.e., the practice of the Sunna)—displaying several snapshots of a man determined to dedicate his existence to the world of the afterlife. It is not my intention to stir the waters that comprise the lives of such remarkable and pure personalities with debates and questions that ultimately will only agitate and obscure. However, one must wonder whether Rumi opened the horizon of Shams or whether Shams took Rumi to the world of the unseen. Who took whom to the realty of realities—the peak of love and joy? Who directed whom to the real Besought and the real Beloved? Answering these questions is beyond the capacity of most ordinary people. One can say, at least, the following: During this period of time, two skillful and acute spirits came together, like two oceans merging into one another. By sharing the Divine bounties and gifts received from their Lord, they both reached peaks that most people would not be able to reach easily on their own accord. Through their spiritual cooperation, they established camps on the peaks of knowledge, love, compassion, and joy for God. As much as they enlightened those of their own age, they also influenced all centuries to follow; an effect that is still present today. The spring of sweet water which they represent continues to nourish the thirsty. They have been continuously remembered over the centuries for their beautiful contributions to countless lives. Here it is important to note that Rumi was informed by numerous sources in the flow of ideas, including his father, the great master of scholars. During his journey, he seemed to leave many of his contemporaries behind—his love and compassion flowed like the waters of the world”s oceans; so much so that while continuing to live physically among humans, he managed to become ever closer to God. It seems he never elevated himself above others except through his writings, both during his life and after his entering the life of eternity; he provides a star of guidance that echoes the spiritual life of the Prophet of Islam. Accordingly, he is among the few people who have exerted a great influence through both space and time. Rumi, the Master, was not a pupil, a dervish, a representative, or master as is known amongst traditional Sufis. He developed a new method that was colored with revivalism and personal independent reasoning by taking the Qur’an, the Sunna, and Islamic piety as his points of reference. With a new voice and breath, he successfully brought both those of his generation and those of times to follow to a new divine table. As far as his relationship with God is concerned, he was a man of love and passion. As for those who turn to him for the sake of God, he represents a compassionate bearer of God”s divine cup of love. Yes, as the rains of mercy fall forth from the clouds of the sky, if the collections of his poems were to be wrung out, God”s love and the love of His Messenger would gush forth in showers. His Mathnawi, exuberant with his spirit, a book which is in part didactic and was put in the form of a book by his disciple Husameddin Celebi, represents his largest, most monumental treatise. While it stems from his involvement with the floods of a high level love and passion, it was presented in smaller waves so that their essence might be understood by a larger part of humanity who did not share the same capacity. His other work, Divan al-Kabir, is both informed by and presented in this higher level of love and passion and better represents his own abilities. In the Mathnawi, feelings and thoughts are put in such a way that they do not confuse our intelligence and in such a style that it does not surpass our understanding. As for the Divan al-Kabir, everything is like an erupting volcano. Its meaning is not easily understood by most. A careful investigation will show that this great book of Rumi”s thought will explain such concepts as baqa billah maallah (to live by God with God) and fana fillah (annihilation in God) in the context of a larger understanding of the world of the unseen. Those who are capable of realizing this excitement in Rumi”s Divan will find themselves in extreme bewilderment before a flood of love and ecstasy that is comparable to an erupting volcano. In these poems of the master, which are not easily accessible for most people, the limits of reason are surpassed, the meanings of the poems are elevated above the norms for humanity, and the eternal nature of the unseen world shadows the ephemeral colors and forms of what one encounters in their physical being. Jalaladdin al-Rumi was nourished by the fruit of numerous sources of ideas, including religious seminaries, Sufi lodges, and Sufi hermitages associated with strict Sufi asceticism. Rumi attained an understanding of the Ultimate Reality. He cultivated the heavenly through his own methods. Eventually, he became a central star, the North Star, in the sky which houses sainthood. He was like a bright moon that rotates on its own axis. He was a hero who reached the places where he should have reached and stopped where he should have stopped. He read carefully what he saw and evaluated well what he felt. He never displayed or participated in any improper behavior during his journey to God. Even though the numbers were vast, Rumi never lost any of the bountiful gifts he received from the world of the unseen, not even to the weight of an atom. Like many of his predecessors, he voiced these divine bounties through his poetry in an impressive manner. He often voiced his love and excitement in seemingly magic words which resembled the finest of precious gems. Within the vagueness of the poetry, he mastered the art of explaining his ambiguous statements in ways that opened their meaning to friends, but remained obscured to outsiders. These statements which were at times both clear and ambiguous are the voice and breath of his own horizon—he was not acquainted with other pens or the wells of ink which supplied them. Although one can find a few foreign words or works falsely attributed to him, Rumi”s anthology represents a warmth, the music of his own heart, a music which brings all who hear it under its influence with a captivating control. Rumi possessed a very delicate disposition, often appearing more compassionate than a mother to her child. In short, he was an exceptional personality, particularly in his projection of the spirit of God”s Messenger in his own time. This is illustrated in his collected works, including Mathnawi, Divan al-Kabir, some collected letters associated with familial relations, and his special behavior with friends. Those who witnessed this were greatly excited to see the perfect heir of the Prophet and would say with great humility and respect, —This is a grace from God. He gives it to whom He wants— (al-Maida, 5:54). Rumi was a man of genuine sincerity and loyalty. He lived by what he felt in his heart as long as it did not contradict the teachings and laws of religion. While making his faith the focus of his life, while showing the others the way of life, while blowing into the ney, while dancing like a butterfly, his heart was burning with love and longing; it had always ached and moaned like the monotone ney. Those who were not aching could not understand him. Those who were rude and tactless could not feel what he felt. He said, —I want a heart which is split, part by part, because of the pain of separation from God, so that I might explain my longing and complaint to it.— Saying this, he searched for friends who had similar longings and complaints.

Footnotes

1. Majnun is a legendary personality of love found in Islamic literature 2 Buraq is the name of the mount which carried Prophet Muhammad during his Ascension

Regardless of the modern mockery of these foolish lovers, one can find a deeper meaning in some of these stories. The mystic interpretation of Leyla and Mejnun, a well-known seventh-century Arab love tale, brings a different shade to the unforgettable theme: love. This story is quite original. As usual, they fall in love, are separated by their families, and continue to love each other. There is even a happy ending. The originality comes from the Sufi (mystical) interpretation of this love, a love that transforms love for a person into love for the Divine.

Many interpretations and versions of this story have come from Arab, Persian, and Turkish poets. The Turkish poet Fuzuli writes: Leyla and Qays (later called Mejnun) meet in childhood at school. As they grow up, their love becomes obvious. Leyla’s father forbids her to attend school and see Qays, for their obvious love is a very inconvenient situation in Bedouin culture. Leyla’s father rejects Qays when the latter’s father seeks permission for his son to marry Leyla. Overcome by grief, Qays goes mad. Nicknamed Mejnun (the obsessed, mad one), he leaves home and roams the desert.

His father takes him on a pilgrimage to the Kabah, hoping for a cure. Mejnun does not pray for a cure, but for his love to so increase that he will mention his beloved until the end of time:

Wherever in the world Thou findest pain,
To that sweet pain my aching heart enchain,
And banish from me every show of sense,
And closely bind me to a love intense,
For Leyla let me burn in fiercest fire,
That Thou in her I see is my desire.(1)

His wish was granted, and his love grew. He returned to the desert, leaving his family and worldly pleasure. Sympathizers brought him food and clothes; others scolded his uncontrollable passion. He was considered a madman and unfit for this world. Surely there were other women he could marry. What was this burning desire that only ceased in the cold desert night’s caress? People said:

This flame which is the reboiling
of the affections cometh from fire of
youth. When youth departeth from man
that boil of fire cooleth down.(2)

 Mejnun replied:

I am His majesty the Emperor of Love.
I have not been ashamed of lust.
became immune to the lechery provoked by
terrestrial flatterings by means of a bath of purity.
I have freed myself from the impurity of my lust.
I have destroyed the market of the passions.(3)

Mejnun’s love was neither worldly nor the passion of youthful excitement; rather, it was something far deeper-an existing emotion waiting for a spark. Kindled by Leyla, this love was now out of control:

Love for thee cannot be removed from the heart;
this mystery cannot ever be revealed to anyone.
This mystery came into my body with my mother’s milk
and it will go out again with my soul.
I feed on love; if love dies, I die too.
My nature hath been brought up on love;
my destiny must only be love.(4)

This great ability to love was not to perish in lifelong separation, but rather to flourish, for it was placed in him for a reason: Mejnun’s love was also seen as a preparation for Divine love. Earthly beauty is like a curtain which hides Divine beauty, whose brilliance could not be borne by the human eye. By practising earthly love, man prepares himself for the divine. According to the Persian mystic Aynulqudat, executed at Hamadan in 1132, Providence wanted Mejnun to practise with the love of Leyla in order to dedicate him later to Divine Love, as if he were a steed destined for a king and first ridden by others until he was tamed and trained.(5)

In that vast empty desert, Mejnun thinks only of love’s meaning and why it was given to humanity. He scorns people, unworthy of true love:

Love which is not eternal
is a toy of youthful lechery.
Love is that which doth not diminish,
which goeth back not one step
as long as it lasteth.
This love is not amusing fantasy
destined to disappear for ever.(6)

Love is a mystery. Many have said what it is not or should not be, but it is harder to say what it is, for its source is unknown. Sufis are those who try to understand the source of love. Gulen illuminates this mystery of love:

Ashq (passion or intense, ecstatic love), which the spirit feels without the intervention of free will, cannot be controlled by the person so affected, for its real source is God, Who loves Himself in a way special to His Sacred Essence and is essentially different from the love felt by the created for the created or the Creator. This sacred, essential love of God for Himself, including His Attributes and Names, is the reason why he created the world. It is also this love that manifests itself in human beings as love of God, as the most essential center of humanity’s relationship with God.(7)

Mejnun lost himself in Leyla and no longer existed as Mejnun. Roaming the desert, a realm as vast as the human heart and mind, he reflected on life, love, and separation. He found meaning in his grief:

I treated my passion for Leyla with Leyla as a drunkard treats himself with wine.(8)

This deep, mysterious love was a frequent topic in mystic circles. Mejnun was given as an example to Sufis who desired to feel true love. Sibli (1861-1945) proclaimed in a sermon: O people! This Mejnun of the Banu Amir! If one should ask him about Layla (Leyla) he would say: I am Layla!’ He for Layla (spiritual) would abstain himself from Layla (physical) in order to remain forever in her presence. This made him abstract from every idea except Layla, and he saw everything only for Layla. On another occasion Sibli said: Like Mejnun of the Banu Amir who when he beheld the wild animals said: Layla’ and when he beheld the mountains said: Layla’ and when he beheld men said: Layla.’ In fact when he was asked his name and how he was, he replied: Layla’.(9)

Here, one sees that Mejnun’s love for Leyla has been transformed into another kind of love. It has grown higher and rooted deeper than any worldly love could:

Whoever am I? And what is my name?
How do they recognize me
if not as thy shadow?
I reckon myself as nothing,
for I come from nothing and remain nothing.

The greatest barrier to true love is the self (ego). To be one with the beloved, the lover must sacrifice himself or herself. In most fairy tales, this sacrifice is symbolized by a hero facing a fire-breathing dragon or performing a dangerous task for the beloved. The hero risks his or her life to please or reach the beloved. Defeating one’s ego is just as difficult. Once people acquire control over the ego (passions), they may continue on the path toward true love. Mejnun reached the level of understanding, which Sufis call the state of knowing God. The Sufi understanding of true love is based on the Islamic tradition: [God said:] I was a hidden treasure. I willed to be known.

According to Stoddart: God can only be known, however, when the human ego, which instinctively regards itself as a self-sufficient centre”a kind of divinity’ in addition to the Divinity”is extinguished before the infinitude of God, in accordance with the words: There is no divinity but God.’ This does not mean that the immortal essence of the soul has to be annihilated; what must be dissolved is that mental morass, compounded of ego-determined passions and imaginings, the constant tendency of which is to restrict consciousness to the level of ephemeral appearances. When this veil’ of selfishness is lifted from the Spirit which is hidden underneath”the Spirit which sees through to the essences of things”then for the first time things are seen as they really are. God is seen in His all-embracing Presence, and the creature as a pure possibility contained in the Divine Being.(10)

Desert dwellers accepted Mejnun, and he roamed with deer and wild birds. He no longer looked or acted like a normal human being. According to one version, once he came upon a deer caught in a hunter’s trap. He released it, saying that he did so only because it reminded him of Leyla. The deer is loved for it reminds one of the beloved’s attributes, just as all beauty in the world is loved because it reflects the All Beautiful One. Mejnun felt sympathy for the deer because he could see Leyla’s image in it. The deer carried signs that reminded him of Leyla. Everything around him, all that was material and created, had no significance in its own right. They could not be loved if that urge to love was not planted in Mejnun’s heart.

One day Leyla comes across Mejnun in the desert. She bursts into tears and offers him her love. In one version, Mejnun’s gives a short and stunning answer, when she says: It is I, Leyla! He looks at her blankly and asks: Who is Leyla? This is the peak of the story.

Mejnun, named so after his heart-breaking experience of being without Leyla, has now reached a higher level of love and can no longer recognize the one who he once thought he could not live without:

To talk of being I or being you is out of place here.
In our faith there is no Duality.
Here I am. The other is but a beautiful portrait.
Here you are. The other is dust.(11)

In Nizami’s version, this stunning last meeting shows Mejnun’s condition as an ascetic:

Since the love for thee is fixed in me,
what is the use of thy image?
Since the love for thee appeared,
it is well that thy face should disappear.(12)

According to one reading, he had repeated Leyla so much that the words came out as Mevla (Creator). The joyous love felt by Sufis is fed constantly by the beloved’s brilliant reflections, which they witness night and day. They see life in another way, and those who do not see what they see surely may consider them mejnun.

Let us complete our words with the words of this wise, madman:

What use to me is a mortal Leyla?
I need a Leyla who will stay alive.
Behold, you see why I have broken with the world saying: Leyla, Leyla!
I shall break with Leyla too,
and then only the Lord remains.(13)

Footnotes

1. Sofi Huri (trans.), Leyla and Mecnun by Fuzuli (London: Gresham Press, 1970), 191.
2. Ibid., 68.
3. Ibid
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., 62.
6. Ibid., 68.
7. Gulen, M. Fethullah, Key Concepts in the Practice of Sufism (Virginia: The Fountain, 2000).
8. Huri, Leyla and Mecnun, 55.
9. Ibid., 61.
10. William Stoddart, Sufism (New York: Paragon, 1986), 45.
11. Huri, Leyla and Mecnun, 72.
12. Ibid., 71.
13. Ibid., 63.