Following Artemis II, we go with another piece on the Moon. Amna Majid writes on one major secret of our satellite, that it has water! It has been confirmed in 2018 that there is frozen water in the Moon’s craters. What was thought impossible before, water on the moon theory was first proposed in 1961 by Kenneth Watson. Majid gives a brief panorama of the past research up until 2025, and projects a possible future where the Moon could be a permanent space station.  

Pope Francis and Fethullah Gülen. Mustafa Cenap Aydin gives a brief account of these two giant men of faith, one the leader of the Catholic world and the other a prominent Muslim scholar, whose lives and missions overlapped in many aspects. Born and died not so far apart from each other, both men have contributed to the promotion of peace, education, and community connections around the world. Through their examples, Aydin shows how one can remain deeply committed to one’s own faith while building genuine bridges with members of other traditions.  

This issue also brings one strong document from the depths of history that helped build a peaceful society from among warring tribes: The Medina Charter. Yetkin Yildirim et al explains how this Charter, considered by many as the first constitution in history, enabled the formation of a single entity from different faith groups and ethnicities, while recognizing their respective cultural and belief traits. The Charter’s message is reinforced by Aaron Y. Ryan who wrote about racism and how it reveals at the societal level in “Racism: Egoism of Societies.” Ryan quotes Nursi for whom racism is an external projection of an enlarged ego and that racist ideologies rise “just as latent diseases emerge when the body’s immune system is weakened.”

In “Anger Is Never Sudden,” Naim Yilmaz draws an analogy between anger and allergic reactions. When we are hit by a car and immediately become furious, there is in fact something that was already growing deep down. Yilmaz says that anger appears instantly, but it is built slowly. In his piece, he offers good advice on how to control anger and guard ourselves from such allergic reactions.

In the movies when somebody dies, assuming that they are a good person, they go to heaven, which is portrayed as somewhere beyond the clouds. Other movies show heaven as beautiful meadows with gorgeous flowers, trees, animals, and lakes. Depending on religious sources and a movie director’s imagination, we see glamorous, luminescent white scenes in heaven. Apart from what a perfect place it is, we have no idea where it might be. Even though we are told about the glamours of Heaven, neither Islamic nor Christian sources tell us much about the location of God’s magnificent creation.

Acknowledging in the first chapter of his The Letters volume that “Only God knows the unseen” (an-Naml 27:65) and “Knowledge is only with God” (al-Mulk 67:26), Said Nursi talks about two Hells, the smaller one and the bigger one. He suggests, some Prophetic traditions (Ajluni, Kashf al-Khafa 1:281; al-Hakim, al-Mustadrak 4:568) report the smaller Hell to be underground, underneath the earth’s crust at the center of the globe, known as the “core.” We know from geological findings that as we head toward the center of the Earth, the temperature increases immensely. It is known that the temperature near the Earth’s center is around 6000 degrees Celsius. Scientists believe that the core of the earth is as hot as the sun. Nursi argues that the Greater Hell to be underneath the Earth’s annual orbit around the Sun, a circle area around the sun, a place for the Great Gathering and Judgment Day. He thinks that when Doomsday comes, like a tiny seed turning into a huge tree, the smaller Hell will be transformed into the bigger one. That is, on Judgment Day, the Earth will cast all its inhabitants into its orbit around the Sun for resurrection. After the Judgment, those who will take their books in their right hands will go to Heaven somewhere above the Earth’s orbit and those who will take their books in their left hands will go to Hell somewhere under the orbit. While offering these ideas, Nursi properly reminds us that the other world is behind a veil of the unseen and it is impossible to see them with the eyes we have in this world.

Although Nursi mentions the place for Hell, he does not refer to a certain place for Heaven. He describes Hell and Heaven as two fruits on the tree of creation, which stretches into infinity. That is to say, they are the two results of the chain of the universe: “They are two pools receiving the flow of two streams, one carrying the wicked and foul while the other carries the good and pure. Paradise is the place where Divine Favor and Mercy manifest themselves, whereas Hell is the place where Divine Wrath and Awe are exhibited.” Both of them serve as an impetus to do good and refrain from bad. The following few verses from the Qur’an paint us a beautiful image of Heaven.

And give good tidings to those who believe and do righteous deeds that they will have gardens [in Paradise] beneath which rivers flow. Whenever they are provided with a provision of fruit there from, they will say, “This is what we were provided with before.” And it is given to them in likeness. And they will have therein purified spouses, and they will abide therein eternally. (al-Baqarah 2:25)

[Other] faces, that Day, will show pleasure. With their effort [they are] satisfied. In an elevated garden, wherein they will hear no unsuitable speech. Within it is a flowing spring. Within it are couches raised high and cups put in place and cushions lined up and carpets spread around. (al-Ghasiyah 88:8-16)

We can also mention a few hadiths telling us about the characteristics of Heaven.

“Abu Huraira reported The Messenger of God (may peace be upon him) as saying that: God the Exalted and Glorious, said: I have prepared for My pious servants which no eye has ever seen, and no ear has ever heard, and no human heart has ever perceived but it is testified by the Book of God. He then recited: ‘No soul knows what comfort has been concealed from them, as a reward for what they did’” (Muslim, Book 40, Number 6780).

“Abu Bakr b. Abdullah b. Qais reported on the authority of his father that the Messenger of God (may peace be upon him) said that in Paradise there would be for a believer a tent of a single hollowed pearl the breadth of which would be sixty miles. It would be meant for a believer and the believers would go around it and none would be able to see the others” (Muslim, Book 40, Number 6804).

“Abu Huraira reported the Messenger of God (may peace be upon him) as saying: Saihan (Oxus), Jaihan (Jaxartes), Euphrates and Nile are all among the rivers of Paradise” (Muslim, Book 40, Number 6807).

We know that God created everything with a purpose including all the stars we see in the sky when the night falls. They say we can see approximately 3,000 stars with the naked eye on a clear night. If we have access to a small telescope, the number of observable stars may increase to 100,000. Moreover, it is estimated there are about 100 billion stars (some estimates say even up to four times more than that) just in our galaxy, the Milky Way. Considering that there are an estimated 100 to 200 billion galaxies visible to us through telescopes like the Hubble Space Telescope and keeping in mind the vast number of stars in our own galaxy, the observable universe could contain over a billion trillion stars. Livio suggests that galaxies might exist in other unobservable and unknown universes, meaning the number of galaxies could be even greater.

We know from the Holy books that God created this world and all that is in it to show His own glory, power, and excellence. But what about the billions of stars in countless galaxies? Apart from their existence, we know nothing about them. We need eyes as big as the Sun to see what they are like. According to Said Nursi, countless stars we are unaware of host angels, jinn, and other spiritual beings invisible to the human eye. Just as fish of various colors and sizes swim in the oceans, vast constellations of stars journey through the universe. Surely, their purpose is to display His unique artistry and to inspire His creation to exalt and glorify Him, Al-Khaliq, the Creator. This is not so astounding when we consider that, according to Prophetic tradition, each raindrop descends from the sky with an angel.

Similar to Islam, Christian sources mention many properties of Heaven such that all things are new, there are no tears or pain, there is perfect peace, there are splendid buildings and vineyards, and fruitful gardens; unfortunately, they do not talk about its location. For example:

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)

“They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.” (Isaiah 65:21)

“The wilderness and the wasteland shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.” (Isaiah 35:1)

The Bible says, “When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained” (Psalm 8:3). This verse may imply that Heaven might consist of the stars and galaxies. Another verse says that the future existence of mankind after resurrection will take place on the present Earth, which will be recreated and renewed to its ideal form(see Revelation 21:1-4; Isaiah 65:17-25; John 14:2, 3).

All this considered, I believe the vast collections of planets and stars in the universe may have another profound purpose—one not explicitly found in either Islamic or Christian teachings. Who knows? Perhaps God intends to turn these heavenly bodies into realms of Heaven for His obedient people and other spiritual beings. It is possible that, based on qualities like loyalty, obedience, righteousness, and goodness, individuals might be granted a heavenly domain proportionate in beauty and size. In other words, prophets and messengers may dwell in grander, more magnificent stars than those reserved for a typical believer, whose prayers and deeds were fewer. To illustrate, Islam’s prophet could be given UY Scuti—the largest known star, with a radius around 1,700 times greater than the sun—as his heavenly abode.

Everything is possible for God, “The Originator of the heavens and the earth. When He decrees a matter, He only says to it, ‘Be’, and it is” (al-Baqarah 2:117). He can easily transform stars into realms of Heaven for His faithful and righteous followers. Finally, the true location of Heaven is beyond our comprehension. While only God knows the true purpose behind the creation of stars, we, as people of faith, can strive to earn the greatest heavenly reward by engaging in prayer, charity, and good deeds. Surely, the existence of all these celestial bodies reflects His power, wisdom, and grace. Ultimately, Heaven may be anywhere, as the Almighty creates His places of manifestation wherever He wills.

References

• https://www.physicsoftheuniverse.com/how-many-stars-are-there.html#:~:text=Therefore%2C%20using%20a%20very%20rough,anywhere%20up%20to%201024.
• https://www.space.com/25303-how-many-galaxies-are-in-the-universe.html
• https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/questions/where-is-heaven
• https://www.space.com/41290-biggest-star.html

Come the day, I, again, through the parents, wanted to get Ayşe’s reaction to Gülen’s death. “Grandpa has passed away,” she “broke” or “shared” the sad news with me. There are lots of questions lying behind all this: What has been the real difference between Erdoğan, Gülen and their followers? If Erdoğan has all along scared his people and the world of “Gülenists,” could there be “Erdoğanists” for the Turks and the universe to be scared of as well? What does Gülen’s death mean on the ground to Turkey and the world? Who was this Gülen that the world should be moved about his death?

Now the African perspective.

Indigenous knowledge has it that “Enyama mbi tew’aluti ” – literally meaning “bad meat takes long to clear from the barbecue stick.” Why? Nobody rushes for it. Similarly, in the world of organized procedures, it is held: “It’s the exception that proves the rule.” Thus, in the practice of Mathematics: “Any number to power zero is equal to one, except zero itself.” In Chemistry, ions with the same charge repel. In music, non-rhyming sounds subject listeners to cacophony. A frontline rebellion in a battle is a war lost in the making. Examples are inexhaustible.

In Africa we also say: “Alikukumanya niwe akwita” – meaning “it is he who knows you who kills you.” In the biblical Paradise of Eden narrative, the target of the Snake must have been Adam. But to reach him, Eve was the most promising and appropriate tool. She knew him very well and he knew her well as well. When it came to a money trap module to betray Jesus, his disciple, Judas Iscariot, who was the treasurer, was the best choice. After being paid the fee, he assured them: “The one I kiss….”

In the most immediate Turkish history, circumstances crossed the paths of President-to-be Erdoğan and the Muslim cleric and scholar Fethullah Gülen on the promise of a more democratic country and freedoms based on universal standardsWhat could make them part ways unto the grave of one of them and even beyond? Why did Erdoğan go to the extent of demonizing the life ofGülen, when the whole world was mourning the death of a living saint rather than someone who had lived a “dishonorable life and like a demon in human form,” according to Erdoğan? Who was this Gülen that he should be at the base of the controversy in Turkey when humanity ceases to be a factor in the affairs of those in political power? Why should a political leader, and considered believer in one God, for that matter, be inhuman? He jails babies with their Gülen-linked mothers and conducts strip searches on the country’s daughters, mothers and grandmothers?

Here one has to go further, if not dig farther or both. A dip into the Turkish history reveals stories of scholars who stood firmly against oppression until Gülen appears on the stage. These noble individuals go beyond time, becoming travelers who foresee the future, much like Fethullah Gülen has. It’s as if Gülen stood on the watchtower of history, envisioning the future and leaving his notes. His vision heralded a renaissance after a period of darkness, testing both the loyalty of friends and the mercy of foes.

Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal, a disciple of Imam al-Shafi’i, contributed a lot to the expansion of the territories where Muslims ruled. He was tortured and imprisoned for over two years for rejecting the idea, imposed by Abbasid caliphs al-Ma’mun, al-Mu’tasim, and al-Wathiq, that the Quran was created. He continued to pursue knowledge even in prison. Imam Abu Hanifa was imprisoned and tortured for refusing an offer to be a judge for the Abbasid caliph al-Mansur. Relentless pressure notwithstanding, he never bowed to the caliphates of the Umayyads or Abbasids. He died from poisoning. Imam al-Ghazali was also subjected to pressure from the authorities, who ordered his books burned. For criticizing a ruler of the Kara-Khanid dynasty, Imam Sarakhsi was thrown into a well in Özkent, from where he dictated his famous work, al-Mabsut. Ibn Taymiyyah was persecuted for his views, repeatedly imprisoned, and died in captivity, completely dispossessed.

In modern times, Fethullah Gülen walked this same path. After the July 15th 2016 “cooked coup,” which he condemned and denied any connection, he declared: “If they were to pass a death sentence, I would go smiling to the noose, but I would never apologize to an oppressor, even if they killed me fifty times over.” This statement underscores his resolve in pursuing truth and justice. Gülen’s words reflect the breadth and depth of his vision for humanity. In his work The Messenger of Humanity, he wrote: “Humanity can only draw closer through love, tolerance, and dialogue.”

Gülen consistently advocated for dialogue between the Abrahamic faiths and once brought together leaders of major religions around the same table in Istanbul. He believed that “those who are confident in their beliefs respect others’ faiths. One’s own values are best understood by recognizing others’. Everyone’s faith belongs to them, and no one can impose their beliefs on others.” Gülen reminded us of the shared values of humanity, saying: “Differences among people exist not to divide us but to complete each other.” This perspective is more essential today than ever.

The schools inspired by Gülen’s vision across the world embodied his dream that “Knowledge should flow from Turkey to the world.” These institutions have fostered bonds between diverse cultures and planted seeds of peace and fraternity. His legacy is not just in his written works or founded institutions, but in the indelible mark he left on the conscience of humanity—a bright path for generations to follow.

To come to grips with Gülen’s life, one has to read Said Nursi (1877-1960) a lot. Typical of his life of sincerity, Said Nursi, who is also known as Bediüzzaman – the miracle of time – examined the political life of his day, critically subjecting it to his moral weights and measures standards, leaving the rest of the world countries to find their individual morals index slots. Said Nursi, as a child, was conceived in the womb of the Ottoman Empire to which he was consequently born and on whose milk he subsequently breastfed. Only a few years senior to the founder of the Republic of Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881-1938), he went through an experience that must have had a bearing on his way of life as a great thinker, author and what I can dare call “genuine Muslim.”

He was around when his age mate Mustafa got the Kemal nickname – meaning “the perfect one.” He saw Kemal and his supporters establish a new Turkish government and capital at Ankara. He witnessed the national assembly abolishing the Ottoman sultanate and Greek forces being driven out, opening doors to the Republic of Turkey to come into formal existence. He bore witness to Kemal assuming the presidency and turning tables on everything, including traditional Islamic religious schools and courts. The president grew more reserved, solitary and remote, moved into the Sultan’s Palace in body and spirit, leading a luxurious life until his death.

To this, Africa indigenous knowledge has many observations. Among them: “You can make a monkey put on a golden ring but that can’t kill its habit of stealing maize from people’s farms. You can boil water to any temperature, but it will never forget its origins (coldness). You can expose an elephant to urban life, but you cannot prevent it from littering streets”.

Gülen never met Said Nursi. He only met his disciples. He understood his mission and took it upon himself to put it into practice. And, like him, he did not harbor political ambitions. Dr. Jon Pahl summarizes the situation rightly in his book on Gülen and the life of Hizmet when he says: “… to focus on events in Turkey in recent years, and Fethullah Gülen’s role as cause, effect, villain, hero, winner or loser would be to reduce the meaning and significance of his life to something like wax; ephemeral relations with a paltry kind of power…”

Said Nursi had all along said it categorically that the real enemies of the Turkish (in fact any) people are none other than ignorance, poverty and disunity. Gülen took it upon himself that the solution revolved on the axis of molding a cohesive and disciplined community through education, mass media and financial networks targeting the establishment of a new power balance of justice, love, respect and equality among people. For which, an environment had to be built whereby one has to see all others as God sees them with the eyes of mercy and compassion. People must be revived; not killed. Today, however, about a quarter of the Turkish people have come to a stage where they wish it were possible for them to live somewhere else rather than under the Erdoğan regime.

Said Nursi warned: “Moral laws are absolute. They are not relative. Effort spent on spicing our actions in the interest of our desires points in the wrong direction. This is why we substitute legal and illegal, right and wrong with attributes. And a State is created along these lines.” In the Seedbed of the Light, Fourth Treatise, Third Part of the Spark, he said: “Happiness and real pleasure lies in forsaking everything, including existence for His (God’s) sake. A drop of water has the same nature as an ocean (both are water) and a river (both are from clouds).

“Whatever is suffered for God is good. It is sweet even if apparently bitter, for it makes you taste the pleasure of supplicating and praying to Him. Every speech unconcerned with Him is idle talk.” Giving us a sort of cardinal self-observation point, he said: “Human beings are usually susceptible to shedding positive knowledge as they go down the learning lane. Instead, we pick and treasure meaningless and sometimes wrong convictions, which eventually lead us astray.”

This was with Gülen until his last breath, enabling him to leave behind a legacy not of material wealth but many shelves filled with the books he authored. His simple lifestyle demonstrates the transitory nature of worldly riches, elevating the significance of spiritual values and the blossoming hopes. I have read his works and works about him by others and reviewed some of them. Following his passing, Tushar Gandhi, the grandson of Mahatma Gandhi, could not have put it better when he expressed his sorrow on social media, saying, “Another voice of peace has fallen silent. A great loss for humanity.”

All said, Gülen was more than the son of Turkey. He belonged to the whole world. From the African perspective, Gülen was “mithili ya zawadi ya sauti ya Mungu iliyozimika” – the symbol of God’s voice gift which has suddenly gone silent.

Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, the great sage of the twentieth century, divides his life into three distinct phases: Old Said, New Said, and Third Said. In his 40s, Old Said undergoes a profound spiritual transformation while actively seeking solutions to the challenges faced by believers in society, thus becoming New Said. New Said, deeply influenced by the truths of faith, becomes primarily focused on matters of faith. In his final decade, Third Said dedicates himself to preparing for the journey beyond this life [1].

Bediuzzaman shares an imaginary event that played a pivotal role in his transformation into New Said. Although not a dream in the traditional sense, the images he witnessed in this dream-like state, or vision, held significant spiritual insights. However, he describes this experience as an “imaginary event” to avoid stirring jealousy in others.

Bediuzzaman states, “O world-adoring one charmed by the worldly life and ignorant of the meaning of your nature as the perfect pattern of creation!” [2].

Humanity’s failure to recognize that they are intricately woven with Divine Names, Attributes, and Qualities often leads them to become infatuated with the material world, essentially worshipping it. The absence of this sensation results in heedlessness. With the light of faith, individuals can recognize the presence of the Creator, Owner, and Lord of everything, including themselves. When they search, they discover what they are seeking.

He initiates the description of his transformation with the following words:

“I found myself a traveler going on a long journey. My lord who set me making this journey gradually gave me some of the sixty gold coins He had allotted to me. This went on for some time, and after a while I arrived at an inn that provided some entertainment. In one night I spent ten gold coins on gambling and entertainment, and in pursuit of fame. The next morning, I had no money left. Nor could I do trade and buy provisions I would need at my destination. All I had left was pain, sorrow, and regret left by sins and illicit pleasures. While I was in this wretched state, a man suddenly appeared and said to me: ‘You have lost all you had and deserve to be punished. Moreover, you will go on to your destination with no money’” [3].

The events narrated by Bediuzzaman are symbolic, reflecting his self-examination and the lessons learned from the imaginary sins he distanced himself from in real life.

Recognizing the squandering of one’s resources is painful, and facing bankruptcy is sorrowful. Being unprepared for the journey and failing to see oneself as a traveler are also distressing aspects of this realization.

The word “suddenly,” emphasized in the text, highlights the necessity of experiencing unexpected events to prompt awakening and change.

The Greek term “metanoia” signifies a shift in mindset or paradigm, a transformation of the heart, and a spiritual change into a new state [4]. During such a spiritual transformation, the methods used to shed light on one’s blind spots, refine one’s perception, and guide one’s reasoning heart frequently involve startling and bewildering changes or hardships.

Bediuzzaman continues, “‘But if you use your mind, the door of repentance is not closed. When you gradually receive the remaining fifteen gold coins, keep half in reserve and use it to buy what you will need at your destination.’ My soul did not agree, so the man said: ‘Save a third of them then.’ Still my soul balked. The man insisted: ‘Then a quarter.’ I saw that my soul could not abandon its addictions, so the man turned away indignantly and disappeared” [5].

Someone with sound judgment experiences remorse, recognizing their mistakes as a sign of wisdom. The greatest fault lies in not acknowledging one’s own faults. Failing to rectify mistakes when the opportunity arises only results in self-inflicted damage. The ego that indulges in its desires disregards well-intentioned advice and forfeits the chance for mercy.

With a sound heart, one can acknowledge their errors and learn from them. Those who refuse to learn from their mistakes are destined to repeat them. Understanding that the past cannot be changed does not negate the importance of regret; it signifies the humility of a healthy heart.

In Christopher Nolan’s film Inception, the protagonist, Cobb [6], grapples with painful memories of his wife and seeks to alter them. The song Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien by Édith Piaf, featured in the film, hints that Cobb cannot confront the truth, and returns home without sincere regret [7].

“At once, I found myself on a high-speed train travelling through a tunnel. I was alarmed, but there was no escape. To my surprise, I saw very attractive flowers and tasty-looking fruits alongside the track, hanging out from the sides of the tunnel. I foolishly tried to pick some of them. But all around them were thorns that, due to the train’s speed, tore at my hands and made them bleed. They cost me very much” [8].

Indulging in unlawful and transient pleasures while realizing their fleeting nature brings both pain and parting. What is consumed fails to satisfy, what is abandoned holds no value, and what extinguishes does not bring gratification. Encountering endings and separations wounds the heart.

Things perceived by the eye but difficult for the mind to comprehend are often tests. Wisdom, fortified by reason and experience, considers the consequences of choices and the fate of desires. It guides one towards making sensible decisions, avoiding risks where the potential loss outweighs any gain. A sound conscience gently whispers, “Is it worth it?”

“Suddenly an attendant came and said: ‘Give me five cents and I’ll give you as many flowers and fruits as you want. With your hands all cut up, you are losing a hundred instead of five cents. Besides, there is a punishment for picking them without permission’” [9].

The price of lawful pleasures is light and sufficient for enjoyment. Staying within limits brings contentment. True satisfaction arises from recognizing the blessings and the benevolence of The All-Generous. The All-Merciful satisfies our souls, The All-Wise our intellects, and The All-Compassionate our hearts.

“Depressed by this condition, I looked out the window to see when the tunnel would end. But there was no end in sight. The tunnel’s walls had many openings into which passengers were being thrown. Suddenly I caught sight of an opening just opposite me with a gravestone on either side. When I peered out, I made out my name, ‘Said,’ written in capital letters on a gravestone. I gave a cry of bewilderment and repentance” [10].

Life in this world resembles a tunnel, and humanity rides a speeding time train with a new carriage added each year. There is no escape, and the only exit leads to one’s own grave. Sometimes, the grave looms in the distance, while other times, it’s very close.

One who encounters the journey’s end without adequate preparation experiences profound sorrow and astonishment. “A cry of bewilderment and repentance” reflects the genuine shock of a person who has awakened.

Preparing for death stands as one of life’s most crucial objectives. Filmmaker Andrey Tarkovsky also underscores that art’s purpose is to ready individuals for death, unveiling the deepest recesses of their inner selves [11].

“Unexpectedly, I heard the voice of the man who had advised me at the inn, asking: ‘Have you come to your senses?’ I replied: ‘Yes, but I’ve been left powerless, and there is nothing I can do.’ He told me to repent and trust in God, to which I replied that I did” [12].

When faced with the consequences, reason regains its foothold. Individuals inevitably confront the severe repercussions of their desires and choices, at times testing the limits of their endurance. Even if the conscience has not transgressed beyond redemption, there is still hope.

Helplessness invokes Divine mercy. The advisor, the person who provides guidance with wisdom, compassion, and sincerity for the individual’s well-being, may not reappear but calls from a distance. Offering a second chance, he proposes two actions in two words: repentance and trust. The fortunate interlocutor, making a wise choice and sparing himself the murmurs of his ego, declares, “I did,” meaning both actions. Death becomes the catalyst for awakening.

“Then I woke up and I found myself transformed into the New Said; the Old Said had gone away” [13].

Repentance from the depths of the heart cleanses one’s past, while trust purifies one’s future. The mind, with its ability to traverse time, often preoccupies individuals with past regrets and future anxieties, disconnecting them from the present moment. A person with sound judgment, realizing the extended journey and the opportunity at hand, embraces repentance and trust, concentrating on the central point that intersects with eternity and conceals profound secrets, constantly renewing themselves. One who glimpses the journey’s end is no longer the same as before.

Knowledge alone cannot renew a person; true transformation requires confronting reality. Just as angels thrive on light, knowledge finds its manifestation in actions as meanings are assimilated. Satisfying one’s soul requires grasping the significance of life’s experiences, not merely the words themselves.

Viewing oneself as a traveler fosters awareness and preparation. Our journey, originating in the Realm of Spirits and continuing through the mother’s womb, persists in this world. It encompasses childhood, youth, old age, the transition from the confines of the body to the Intermediate Realm, and the return to a new body through resurrection. The journey toward a life where death is conquered endures, marked by the relinquishment of everything, including life itself. When the time comes, individuals realize that what must be returned is an entrusted gift.

Now is the time to invest in “moments” without sudden departures. As Bediuzzaman expresses, “A guest has to consider the journey” [14].

Notes

1. Bediüzzaman Said Nursî, Sözler, İstanbul: Şahdamar Yayınları, 2010, s. 346; Bediüzzaman Said Nursî, Şuâlar, İstanbul: Şahdamar Yayınları, 2010, s. 518.
2. Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, The Words, New Jersey: The Light, 2013, p. 341.
3. Ibid.
4. Peter M. Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organization, New York: Currency Doubleday, 1990, p. 13.
5. Nursi, Ibid, p. 341.
6. “Cobb” phonetically resembles words in languages like Sanskrit, Hindi, and Urdu that mean “sleep.” For instance, the Persian word “hab” means sleep.
7. Jason T. Eberl ve George A. Dunn (ed.), The Philosophy of Christopher Nolan, London: Lexington Books, 2017, p. 134.
8. Nursi, Ibid, p. 342.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. Andrey Tarkovski, Mühürlenmiş Zaman, Ter. Füsun Ant, İstanbul: Agora Kitaplığı, 2008, p. 32.
12. Nursi, Ibid, p. 342.
13. Ibid.
14. Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, The Gleams, New Jersey: Tughra Books, 2013, p. 331.

“Ideology is the marriage of the truth with the apocryphal whereas wisdom is the distinction of the former from the others,” (1) says Cemil Meriç, a prominent Turkish intellectual figure, philosopher, and influencer of twentieth century Turkey. Wisdom is the property of West and East together; it’s the private garden of all humanity, a shared ocean of advancement for the sons and daughters of Adam. The profound knowledge leading to wisdom is a bowl which is uniting rather than segregating, a line drawn to encompass, not to dissect. A short glimpse across the flipped pages of history is enough to come across a handful of people who lived as light-houses, illuminating the way to wisdom, despite using various languages and separate tools.

The tradition of storytelling

Stories are as old as humanity. They are vessels across the ocean of wisdom. Storytelling was used by Buddha in his Jatakas, Rumi in the Masnawi, Bidpai in Kalilah and Dimnah. Many children of the West prefer to embrace novels. (2) On the other hand, old wise masters of the East used allegories and parables. They preferred to describe an elephant as a water spout (trunk) (3), a fan (ear) (4), a pillar (leg) (5), or a throne (back) (6). They knew understanding an elephant’s entire being would be beyond the limits of comprehension for a majority of people. Whence Prophet Muhammad had been asked about the content of the scrolls sent down to Abraham, peace be upon both, he replied, “It was full of parables” (7).

Bidpai (from Sanskrit Vidya-pati, meaning chief scholar) was a wise man of India. He lived in the 3^rd century BC,[i] and he decided to correct the oppression and wrongdoings of a young Indian Emperor of his time, Dabshalim by teaching him wisdom he collected from the ancient times (8). Though the main sources of the stories are not known to us, they were still being told a millennium later. In 570 AD, the ruler of Persia, Khosroes Noushirawan, after having received the information of that book, sent Barzouyeh, court physician, on a mission to India to translate the book into Persian (more precisely into Pahlavi, i.e. Middle Persian). These stories were translated into Arabic two centuries later, and into Hebrew from Arabic – and possibly from its Sanskrit originals (9). And this lineage of translations gave fruit to more than two hundred versions of the book in about fifty different languages.

Said Nursi

Said Nursi is another man of wisdom, one of recent history. Being born into life in an Eastern Anatolian village in 1877, until he passed in 1960, he lived through the collapse of an empire and the rebuilding of a country as a republic. He experienced the reigns of constitutional monarchy, oppression, military coups, and democracy. He dedicated his life to the survival of religious and ethical connections, in contrast to many of his contemporaries. During the last half of his life, he focused on extolling the virtues of education and belief to the extent that he did not bother at all about the developments of the World War II, which was basically destroying the world.

Nursi diagnosed society’s problems as falling under three categories: ignorance, poverty and dissension. His Risale-i Nur (the Collection of Epistles of Light) was a cure to these ills. He authored this collection of several thousand pages under the harsh conditions of captivity, exile, imprisonment, and surveillance.

Before writing his Risale, Said Nursi preached his wisdom to the villagers living around him, in the desolate places of Anatolia. He used the same method as Bidpai, i.e. via parables and allegories. Skimming through his primary epistles in “the Short Words” is sufficient enough to catch a glimpse of the profound wisdom woven through his stories.

I want to focus on one of Said Nursi’s parables. It is from the first treatise of the collection, “Nur’un İlk Kapısı” (the First Gate of the Light). The second lesson is reiterated in his masterpiece as “Mesnevi-i Nuriye” (the Seedbed of Light), and later in “Eighth Word” in a slightly different and more detailed form. It is the story of a desert-dweller jumping into a well when threatened by a lion (10).

The story

A person (actually Nursi talks about two brothers in order to compare positive and negative responses to the mystery of the universe) finds himself in a desolate wilderness. He suddenly hears a terrifying sound and sees that a great lion is about to attack him. While he is fleeing, he comes across a waterless well sixty yards deep, and in his fear jumps into it. After falling halfway down the well, his hands meet a tree growing out of the wall. He clings to it. He soon sees two animals gnawing through the tree’s two roots. Then he looks up and sees the lion waiting, and when he looks down with frustration he sees a dragon, its mouth as big as the mouth of the well. Then he looks back at the tree and notices with surprise that even though it is a fig-tree, it is bearing the fruits of thousands of trees, including some looking fancy and delicious but ultimately intoxicating and poisonous.

The responses of the two brothers bifurcates in Nursi’s narration. The good brother, whose good morals give him good thoughts, and good thoughts showing him the good side of everything, goes ahead with the realization of these strange happenings being connected to someone. He concludes that behind everything are the commands of a hidden ruler, who is watching him and testing him. His fear turns into wonder, and that wonder gives the fruit of love towards that hidden hand, leading him to cry out: “O ruler of this place! I have happened upon you and I take refuge with you. I am your servant and I want to please you. I am searching for you.” After he makes this supplication, the walls of the well suddenly part, and a door opens onto a wonderful, pleasant, quiet garden. Indeed, the dragon’s mouth transforms into the door, and both it and the lion take on the forms of two servants, inviting him to enter. The lion even becomes a docile horse for him to ride.

Wisdom of the story

Even while listening to the story for the first time, one can match most of the allegorical details mentioned in the story with real life counterparts. A short reference is provided as Table 1.

Table 1. Correspondence between the metaphors used in the parable and the truths behind them.

Beyond these, it’s astonishing to realize how perfectly the story simplifies the very essential concerns of each concious individual, such as the purpose of this life, reaching the Creator beyond the veil of creation, the reality of death, the compliance of destiny with the responsibility of actions, and so forth. The story also sets forth answers to the three basic questions asked by all humanity:

“Where are you coming from?”

“What is your destination?”

“What is your task in this world?” (11, 12)

Search for the source of wisdom

The First Station

The clever son of Russian Tsardom, Leo Tolstoy, welcomed me with his deep contemplations on life, death, and religion in the preface of his book, A Confession. Tolstoy was mentioning the “story of wisdom,” but from the perspective of bad-mannered brother:

There is an Eastern fable, told long ago, of a traveler overtaken on a plain by an enraged beast. Escaping from the beast he gets into a dry well, but sees at the bottom of the well a dragon that has opened its jaws to swallow him. And the unfortunate man, not daring to climb out lest he should be destroyed by the enraged beast, and not daring to leap to the bottom of the well lest he should be eaten by the dragon, seizes a twig growing in a crack in the well and clings to it. His hands are growing weaker and he feels he will soon have to resign himself to the destruction that awaits him above or below, but still he clings on. Then he sees that two mice, a black one and a white one, go regularly round and round the stem of the twig to which he is clinging and gnaw at it. And soon the twig itself will snap and he will fall into the dragon’s jaws. The traveler sees this and knows that he will inevitably perish; but while still hanging he looks around, sees some drops of honey on the leaves of the twig, reaches them with his tongue and licks them (13).

Before journeying towards the next station, the following is how Tolstoy transcribes the story into his case:

So I too clung to the twig of life, knowing that the dragon of death was inevitably awaiting me, ready to tear me to pieces; and I could not understand why I had fallen into such torment. I tried to lick the honey which formerly consoled me, but the honey no longer gave me pleasure, and the white and black mice of day and night gnawed at the branch by which I hung. I saw the dragon clearly and the honey no longer tasted sweet. I only saw the inescapable dragon and the mice, and I could not tear my gaze from them. And this is not a fable but the real unanswerable truth intelligible to all.

While following Tolstoy within his profound yet gloomy commentary on the standing of human “self,” Nursi’s voice has shaken my mind again, answering the stated, unanswerable truth, as follows:

Death is not terrifying as it appears to be superficially… for believers, death is to be discharged from the burdensome duties of life. And for them it is a rest from worship, which is the instruction and training in the arena of trial of this world. It is also a means of their rejoining friends and relatives, ninety-nine out of a hundred of whom have already departed for the next world. And it is a means of entering their true homeland and eternal abodes of happiness. It is also an invitation to the gardens of Paradise from the dungeon of this world. And it is the time to receive their wage from the munificence of the Most Compassionate Creator in return for service rendered to Him… Yes, for the people of belief, death is the door to Divine mercy, while for the people of misguidance, it is the pit of everlasting darkness (14).

The Second Station

While skimming through Arabic translation of the book by Abdullah ibn Muqaffa from Barzouyeh’s original Persian, I came across Barzouyeh’s own version of the “story of wisdom.” His version, which was written thirteen centuries before, was just parallel to Tolstoy’s. It was an allegory of his own search for truth, with the details only slightly altered:

…I therefore compared the human race to a man who, flying from a furious elephant, goes down into a well. He suspends himself from two branches which are at the brim of it whilst his feet rest upon something projecting out of its sides, which prove to be the heads of four serpents appearing out of their holes. At the bottom, he discovers a dragon… (15)

After underlining small yet clear differences between Barzouyeh’s version and Tolstoy’s – including the introduction of four serpents and a furious elephant – we can leave the second station.

The Third Station

After being translated into Greek in the 11^th century and into Latin in the 13^th by a Christian, John of Capua, the book appeared in Europe in several languages close to the end of 15^th century, right after the invention of printing. The rendering of John of Capua’s Latin manuscript into Italian by Anton-Francesco Doni fostered the first English translation of the book by Sir Thomas North, in 1568. The title of North’s translation was, Fables of Bidpai: The Morall Philosophie of Doni (16).

Swung back to 16^th century from ibn Muqaffa’s Arabic text, 750 AD, a surprise was waiting for me at the third station. While skimming through North’s English translation, I came across the “story of wisdom” in the middle of the book – except this one was apparently not in the Arabic manuscript, save Barzouyeh’s preface, as already mentioned above.

Jane Stevenson writes in her piece in the University of Toronto Quarterly on the manuscript’s translation adventure, that Doni’s Italian version – compiled of forty-one tales, thirty-four of which are from the Persian manuscript – as a rehashed version. These thirty-four stories are also shared between Bidpai’s narrations and Barzouyeh’s (17).

Most probably, the courtesy of our “story of wisdom” is given to Barzouyeh due to the preface text appearing in the Arabic version. Yet interestingly, “the story of wisdom” in North’s English translation appears more similar to Tolstoy and Nursi’s narrations, as it mentions neither a furious elephant nor four serpents. It most resembles Nursi’s story, where the traveler comes into a large plain after passing through thick and large woods. Differently in North’s version, there are four lions attacking rather than a single one.

The following quote from Thomas North’s lesson is significant to exhibit how the core of the “death – lion allegory” is lost through the influence of his contemporary culture: “The foure Lions the foure elements, which feeke ftill to deuour man” (18). This also gives us a hint about the case of Barzouyeh’s addition of four serpents. Barzouyeh was saying, “…the four serpents are the four humors in the human body which being disturbed in their mutual action become many deadly poisons…” Medieval medicine believed four faculties in the human body caused illnesses in their mutual discord. Noticeably, both of these allegories, missing in Nursi’s text, have been proven wrong/mythical via modern knowledge of science and medicine.

Comparison of differences

The only demanding explanation of the significant differences between Barzouyeh’s story and the Medieval European translations would be thinking of a second Hebrew manuscript which parented John of Capua’s Latin manuscript. Otherwise assuming the Latin version being translated from Joel’s 12^th century Hebrew narration of ibn Muqaffa text, would leave the source of the differences in the “story of wisdom” in dark. That second version of 8^th century AD text, in Hebrew, was likely compiled under an Abbasid Caliph, as argued by some scholars, and should have been directly translated from Sanskrit originals.

Turkish newspaper columnist and author, Abdullah Aymaz, in a conversation with a Buddhist scholar, Venerable Bup-Hyun,[ii] throws light onto the issue:

… I narrated him the story told by Said Nursi in the Eighth Word and later asked: ‘Does that story exist in your religious texts?’ He replied, ‘Yes it does, but instead of a lion we have an elephant and also the dragon has four heads. We too have black and white mice and in place of fruits we have a poisonous honey. You can also find it in Jatakas, told by Buddha (19).

If we come to the last main difference between the four versions of the story, the existence of honey inside the well, we see that both Barzouyeh and North are talking about a beehive whereas Tolstoy is mentioning some drops of honey on the leaves of the twig. In contrast to these, Nursi does not mention honey in the story. Rather he talks about numerous types of fruits coming out of fig tree’s branch, some of which are poisonous though they look sweet. Nursi’s analogy leads to nourishing pearls of wisdom such as:

1. “Dissolute, forbidden pleasures of youth are like poisonous honey.” (20).
2. “As pleasure’s disappearance causes pain, pain’s disappearance causes pleasure” (21).
3. “Man’s accountability requires opening the door to the reason and not removing the power of choice” (22).
4. “This world’s adornments are meant to rouse our appetite. As they are temporary and give pain upon separation, they are here only to instruct in wisdom, to arouse gratitude, and to encourage us to seek the permanent originals of which they are copies” (23).

Approaching the source as the last station

Although it is hard to historically detect the origin of the “story of wisdom,” and we’re not able to trace it beyond Barzouyeh, it is evident from the previous discussion that the very source of the story is not himself. A reasonable scenario would be accepting the story existing in the original compilation of Pañchatantra, in Sanskrit, and in the Jataka stories of Buddha.

Moreover, the inner-consistency of the story and the perfection of allegories give the fragrance of a heavenly wisdom rather than a carnal production. Maybe that is why Nursi summarized the Eighth Word as, “… interpreting an important mystery of the verses on the essence of this world, the essence of the human, and in humanity the meaning of religion, via a beautiful and luminary parable which has its original in the Scriptures of Abraham…” (24).

The Story of Wisdom and the Qur’an

It’s worthwhile to mention several tips from the book called “al-Hakim,” which literally means “full of wisdom.”

The scriptures sent to Prophet Abraham are mentioned in the Qur’an at only one place, the ending verses of the Chapter of A’la (the High): “This is surely contained in the former Scrolls: The Scrolls of Abraham and Moses” (25).

Preceding verses have a comparison of two people coming up with opposite responses to the advice of the Messenger: the mindful one who stands in awe of the Lord, and the wicked one remaining aloof from God (26). Later on, the punishment due to the latter’s heedlessness is described: “He will neither die therein (to be saved from punishment) nor live” (27). This description is consistent to the case of the man holding the twig inside the well.

The Qur’an’s narrative compares the situation of two persons, which is in line with Nursi’s double-winged narration. Said Nursi emphasizes that the twig which the man holds is a “fig tree.” The Qur’an says, at the beginning of the Chapter of Tin (the Fig): “By the fig and the olive, And Mount Sinai, And this secure City” (28). Some prominent scholars of Tafsir, interpreting these verses, believe that “the fig” refers to Damascus, thus to the mission of Abraham (29); the olives refer to Jerusalem, thus to Jesus; Mount Sinai refers to Egypt, thus to Moses; and “this secure City” to Mecca, thus to Prophet Muhammad (blessings be upon them all) (30).

Notes

1. Şahiner, N. 2007. Cemil Meriç’le Nur Sohbetleri, Izmir: Isik Publications, p. 106 (in Turkish).
2. Ibid. pp. 93-95.
3. Jainism and Buddhism. Udana 68-69: Parable of the Blind Men and the Elephant.
4. Hughes, Marilynn. 2005. The Voice of Prophets, Volume 2, Morrisville, NC, pp. 590-91.
5. Al-Ghazzali. 1933. Ihya’ `Ulum ad-Din, Volume 4, Cairo, p. 6. (in Arabic).
6. Jalalu’ddin Rumi. 1930. The Mathnawi. Edited with critical notes, translation, and commentary by Reynold A. Nicholson, Volume 4, Book 3, London, vv. I259-68.
7. Suyuti. Durr al-Mansur, Volume 6, p. 341. Hakim. Mustadrak, Volume 2, p. 425. (in Arabic).
8. Bidpai. 1885. Kalilah and Dimnah, or, The Fables of Bidpai. Translated by I.G.N. Keith Falconer, Cambridge University Press.
9. Bidpai. 1819. Kalila and Dimna. Translated by Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull, London: Oxford Press, pp. 32-46.
10. Nursi, Said. 2005. The Words, 8th Word, NJ: The Light, Inc.
11. Nursi. 2005, 10th Word, Introduction, Second Sign, 19th Word, Third Droplet.
12. Nursi. 2006. The Letters, 19th Letter, First Addendum, NJ: The Light, Inc.
13. Tolstoy, Leo. 2010. A Confession and Other Religious Writings, Translated by N.H. Dole, L. Maude, Digireads.com Publishing, pp. 13-14.
14. Nursi. 2006. 1st Letter, Second Question.
15. Bidpai. 1819. p. 81.
16. Doni, Anton Francesco. 2003. The Moral Philosophy of Doni: Known as The Fables of Bidpai. Translated by Thomas North, edited by John Anthony Butler, Carmine Di Biase, Canada: Dovehouse Editions.
17. Stevenson, Jane. 2004. “The Moral Philosophy of Doni, popularly known as the Fables of Bidpai,” University of Toronto Quarterly, Volume 74, Number 1, Winter 2004/2005, pp. 404-405.
18. North, Thomas. 1568. The Morall Philosophie of Doni, London: Ballantyne Press, p. 63.
19. Aymaz, Abdullah. “Güneş doğana kadar yediyüz secde”, July, 18, 2005, Zaman Newspaper (in Turkish).
20. Nursi. 2005. Thirteenth Word, Second Station.
21. Nursi. 2005. Tenth Word, Fourth Truth.
22. Nursi. 2005. Thirty First Word, Addendum.
23. Nursi. 2005. Tenth Word.
24. Nursi, Fihrist Risalesi, Sekizinci Söz, İstanbul: Envar Publications (in Ottoman Turkish).
25. Qur’an, 87/18-19.
26. Qur’an, 87/10-11.
27. Qur’an, 87/13.
28. Qur’an, 95/1-3.
29. İslamoğlu, Mustafa. Tefsirul Kur’an Te’vil ul Furkan, Tîn Sûresi (in Turkish).
30. Imam Qurtubi, Tafsir Qurtubi, Chapter 95.

[i]. By his original name, Vishna Sarma is believed to have lived in the Kashmir area about 200 BC and compiled different fables and stories, some dating back to the 13^th century BC, into a single book under the name of “Pañchatantra (Five Principles).”

[ii]   Professor at Dongbang Buddhist University, Director of the Korean Buddhist Order Association

Many atheists suggest that if God exists, there should not be evil, since God, by definition, is omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent. Therefore, atheists conclude that the existence of evil actually refutes the theists’ argument for the existence of a benevolent God.

But is it a legitimate point to make?

Albert Camus and Bediuzzaman Said Nursi are two thinkers of the same era, one representing the Western atheist viewpoint and one representing the Eastern Islamic viewpoint. They present two very different versions of how humankind should understand the problem of evil and suffering.

Albert Camus and The Plague

Camus chose to express some of his philosophical views in his novels. His 1947 novel La Peste, translated into English as The Plague, is where he exercises his position on the problem of evil. The Plague depicts the emergence of a natural evil, i.e. the bubonic plague brought by rats, in a French-Algerian town of Oran (Wahran in today’s Algeria). Camus might have been inspired either by the 1849 Algerian cholera epidemic, a natural evil that claimed many lives, or by the moral evil of the Nazi invasion of France, which inflicted millions of deaths and immeasurable suffering.[1]

Among many characters in The Plague, two became most prominent in terms of expressing Camus’ philosophical position. Like David Hume’s characterizations of Philo, Demea, and Cleanthes who represent different philosophical points of view, Camus exercises atheistic and theistic arguments through the mouths of a 35-year-old Dr. Bernard Rieux and of the relatively older Father Paneloux. The narrator of the story, an atheist moralist, who, as the reader discovers only at the end of the book, is Dr. Rieux, represents Camus’ own point of view. Father Paneloux, a Jesuit priest, expresses the theist viewpoints of a Christian through his sermons and his conversations with Dr. Rieux.

Camus tells a two-front war against the plague epidemic in Oran. The rational front, in the light of research, science, and technology, is led by Dr. Rieux, who struggles to stop the spread of the disease by means of testing new vaccines. At the same time, the ecclesiastical authorities of the town take the metaphysical approach of urging citizens to common prayer. In the first month of the plague, Father Paneloux is invited to give a speech in the town cathedral. He opens his speech with an accusation. He says, “My brethren, a calamity has befallen you; my brethren, you have deserved it!”[2] and he continues with a passage from Exodus. He says, “The first time that this tribulation appeared in history, it was to strike down the enemies of God. Pharaoh opposed the designs of the Eternal and the plague brought him to his knees. Since the beginning of history, the scourge of God has brought down the proud and the blind beneath His feet. Think on this and fall to your knees.”[3]

To Father Paneloux, the plague, or any evil for that matter, was sent upon people who deviated from the path of God in order to alert or punish them. He insists that the people of Oran deserve this heavenly punishment, as did the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the Pharaoh. The plague, to Paneloux, was God’s flail with which He beats the people of Oran in order to scatter the blood and human misery “in a sowing that would make way for a harvest of truth.”[4]

Paneloux, in conclusion, suggests to the citizens of Oran that they should offer the heavens the only word that a Christian should offer, which is the word of love. Then, he believes, God would do the rest.[5]

After Father Paneloux’s sermon Monsieur Othon, the town’s magistrate, tells Dr. Rieux that the father’s analysis was “absolutely irrefutable.” However, Camus exposes his existentialist position in the later pages where Dr. Rieux and Jean Tarrou have a conversation in Rieux’s home where he stays with his mother, Mme Rieux, who came to stay with him after his wife was taken away to a sanatorium.

As the novel progresses, Camus brings up the sufferings of innocent children due to the plague. Jacques Othon, the son of Monsieur Othon, contracts the disease. Despite Dr. Castel’s attempts to save his life with the new anti-plague serum, Jacques dies after a lengthy, painful suffering.

Dr. Rieux and Father Paneloux meet again outside the hospital where the young Jacques has just died. Paneloux suggests that although the suffering and the death of an innocent child is outrageous and beyond the understanding of humankind, one should love what one does not understand. To which Dr. Rieux replies, “No, Father. I have a different notion of love; and to the day I die I shall refuse to love this creation in which children are tortured.”

Father Paneloux stays with young Jacques during his last hour and says prayers to God to spare him. Despite all the efforts of Dr. Rieux, Dr. Castel, and the medical staff, as well as Father Paneloux’s prayers, the boy dies. This, Father Paneloux finds, is completely unjustifiable, yet has to be accepted since God willed so.

From this point onward, Camus portrays Paneloux as a priest who starts having doubts since the suffering of innocent children could not be explained by any religious arguments.

In Father Paneloux’s second sermon, there is a calmer priest as opposed to a stern one. He uses the pronoun “we” as opposed to “you.” Deeply affected by the suffering and the consequent death of a child, Father Paneloux speaks to the less crowded church with a less enthusiastic audience. He says:

My brethren, the love of God is a difficult one. It assumes a total abandonment of oneself and contempt for one’s person. But it alone can wipe away the suffering and death of children, it alone makes them necessary because it is impossible to understand such things, so we have no alternative except to desire them. This is the hard lesson that I wanted to share with you. This is the faith — cruel in the eyes of man, decisive in the eyes of God — which we must try to reach. We must try to make ourselves equal to this awful image. On this peak, everything will be confounded and made equal, and the truth will break forth from apparent injustice. This is why, in many churches in the South of France, plague victims have slept for centuries beneath the stones in the choir and priests speak above their tombs; the spirit that they proclaim rises out of these heaps of ashes even though children are among those who go to make them.[6]

Towards the end of The Plague, Camus depicts the contractions of the disease by Father Paneloux and Jean Tarrou. Paneloux accepts the will of God and refuses to fight the disease and dies whilst holding on to the remnants of his faith. Dr. Rieux records Paneloux’s case as a “doubtful case” since it did not clearly resemble that of the plague. Meanwhile Tarrou puts up a great heroic fight against the plague only to fail.

Said Nursi and the Risale-i Nur (Epistles of Light)

In the Risale-i Nur,[7] the collection of Nursi’s writings, Nursi builds his philosophy on the basis of the existence of God as creator and sustainer of life and the universe. The clear distinction between the theists’ concept of God and Nursi’s is that Nursi believes in a God who is not only omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent but also The Just (al-‘Adil), The Punisher (al-Qahhar), All-Wise (al-Hakim), and The Forceful (al-Jabbar). Therefore, Nursi argues that any apparent evil or suffering do not necessarily contradict the existence of a benevolent God. A situation in which evil and suffering exist might actually show the need of God’s qualities as The Just (al-‘Adil), The Punisher (al-Qahhar), and All-Wise (al-Hakim) for the situation to be eventually resolved.

Although Nursi’s position on evil and suffering initially resembles the one presented by Father Paneloux, one can observe substantial differences. It is true that Nursi considers evil and suffering as part of a Divine warning to wrong-doing people and advises people to take refuge in supplication,[8] but he also elaborates on why the existence of evil and suffering is not necessarily a proof of the non-existence of God.

According to Nursi, man has no right to complain either about the natural evils or about the moral evils which might inflict sufferings upon him. Nursi explains his position with a three-point argument.

The first point Nursi makes is that man is the artistic creation of God, hence God retains all rights to act freely upon his creation. In an analogy, Nursi likens man to a model upon whom an artistic tailor practices his art of making garments. Nursi explains that the artist who pays the model has a natural right to ask him to sit down, stand up, turn around, and so on and so forth. The model has no right to complain to his employer about his or her discomfort. In The Flashes, Nursi writes:

… Just as the name of Healer makes it necessary that illness should exist, so too the name of Provider requires that hunger should exist. And so on. The Lord of All Dominion has disposal over His dominion as He wishes.[9]

Therefore, to Nursi, the body and life are the property of the Creator temporarily lent to man. Man ought to be grateful for being given this gift, rather than complain about the aspects of it.

Nursi also implies that certain attributes of God require the existence of negative conditions to reveal His positive attributes. For instance, the name of God the Healer requires illness, and the name God the Sustainer requires hunger, and so on.[10]

The second point that Nursi highlights is the argument that evil and suffering are intended to purify and improve life. Nursi claims that the lack of ills and evils is actually more negative for life than their presence. For instance, if there were no diseases, which is what Camus implies an ideal life should be, there would have been no betterment of life in general. In other words, mankind has been working for disease prevention for centuries, and in return, hygiene, sanitation, and living conditions have been improved significantly. If open, rank sewers had not caused diseases, man would not have had to use his ingenuity and exert himself to build the modern sewage systems we all enjoy today; instead, we would still be living in extreme filth, unworthy of the human condition. Nursi remarks:

It is by means of disasters and sicknesses that life is refined, perfected, strengthened and advanced; that it yields results, attains perfection and fulfills its own purpose. Life led monotonously on the couch of ease and comfort resembles not so much the pure good that is being, as the pure evil that is non-being; it tends in fact in that direction.[11]

The third point Nursi makes is the argument that the brief life in this world is but a preparation for an infinite life in the hereafter. Therefore, it involves ills, evils, sufferings, and tribulations in order to test man to see how he reacts to them. His reactions will earn him an eternal reward or punishment. For this reason, man is meant to show strength and patience to endure the calamities thrown at him. Nursi writes:

This worldly realm is the field of testing, the abode of service. It is not the place of pleasure, reward, and requital. Considering, then, that it is the abode of service and place of worship, sicknesses and misfortunes – as long as they do not affect belief and are patiently endured – conform fully to service and worship, and even strengthen it. Since they make each hour’s worship equivalent to that of a day, one should offer thanks instead of complaining.[12]

Expounding around the thesis that not every apparent evil is necessarily evil in itself, Nursi further explains that evil is needed to appreciate pleasure. He explains that the cessation of pleasure is a pain in itself and reciprocally the cessation of pain is a great pleasure.[13]

In conclusion, Nursi contends that there is no contradiction between the existence of God and the existence of evil. Nursi argues that God is not only all-loving, all-caring, and all-compassionate, as the classical Christian perception would have it, but possesses many more attributes than these. Nursi asserts that evil is needed to reveal God’s other attributes such as The Sustainer (al-Razzaq), The Giver of Health (al-Shafi), etc.

Unlike Camus, who tries to resolve the problem of evil only within the framework of our brief earthly life, Nursi seeks solutions from beyond death. To Nursi, the physical life of man ends with his death, but the life of his spirit continues after death. Therefore, no suffering in this life will go unaccounted for. The sufferings are either counted as a punishment to clear an individual from his sins or the token given to him to earn a higher reward in the hereafter.

Furthermore, Nursi contends that, if diseases were only to strike bad people to punish them, everyone would believe in the existence of God, which would defy the purpose of the life completely.

In short, Camus and Nursi differ dramatically on their perception of evil. The former seeks to justify the compatibility of evil with God only within the boundaries of the visible universe and concludes that real evil exists, so God does not. The latter, however, attempts to justify the existence of evil and God in a much larger context, i.e. the earthly life and life after death, and concludes that there is no contradiction between the existence of God and the existence of evil, and that, on the contrary, they require and complete each other.

[1] In “Layers of meanings in La Peste,” Margaret E Gray writes that The Plague is an allegory to Nazi invasion of France. See Edward J. Hughes, The Cambridge Companion to Camus, NY, Cambridge University Press, 2007, pp. 165-77.

[2] Camus, Albert, Robin Buss (translator), and Tony Judt (editor). 2001. The Plague, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, p. 73.

[3] Ibid. 74.

[4] Ibid. 75.

[5] Ibid. 75.

[6] Ibid. 176.

[7] The Risale-i Nur (The Epistles of Light) is the name Said Nursi gave to the collection of his writings. It consists of around twenty pieces of books and is about 6000 pages. The main four books are The Words (Sözler), The Letters (Mektubat), The Flashes (Lem’alar), and The Rays (Șualar).

[8] In The Flashes, Nursi writes: “Drawing on the verse (Qur’an, 21:83), we should say in our supplication, ‘O my Lord and Sustainer! Indeed, harm has afflicted me, and You are the Most Merciful of the Merciful.’” See, Nursi, Kaynaklı, İndeksli Risale-I Nur Külliyatı 1, Sözler, Mektubat, Lem’alar, Şualar, p. 580.

[9] Ibid. p. 581.

[10] Nursi defends his theism based on the Divine Names of God which require certain conditions to manifest.  

[11] Nursi, Kaynaklı, İndeksli Risale-I Nur Külliyatı 1, Sözler, Mektubat, Lem’alar, Şualar, p. 581.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid. p. 583.

Life, illness, and death are basic human conditions. But at the same time, it is a very individual decision which specific meaning you ascribe to these elements. These meanings also affect the behavior patterns of our life and its consequences. Ascriptions of meaning can – considered without any judgment – be of religious, nationalist, pluralist, and atheistic nature, or be supported from the symbiosis of several ways of thinking.

In the training of health care professionals and in public lectures, the author of this article noticed that illness has a very negative image: the color which stands for physical and mental discomfort is a deep black, while shiny white is the color of health. Consequently, modern medicine therapies have been developed that do not necessarily try to diagnose the causes of diseases, but most of all combat the declared enemy. For this purpose, high-dose drugs, radiation and other weapons are out in the field, according to the motto: attack is the best defense.

The doctors make every effort to win the battle, but there is a risk that the emotional state of the ill person falls into despair – because it is taught to him that his new physical condition is an unnatural, undesirable condition. Thus, a melancholy forms, which reduces the quality of life dramatically. The patient regards the illness as invincible.

In the following, I will present some perspectives that renowned scholar Said Nursi (d. 1960) demonstrated decades ago. They are still powerful today. In my opinion, they harbor the potential to raise the quality of life not only of the ill, but also of healthy people.

In his treatise “The Twenty-fifth Gleam: 25 Remedies for the Sick”¹ Said Nursi throws 25 views (Turkish: Deva² ) on the phenomenon of illness. His outlook could assist in transforming the negative picture of illness into a positive one.

What makes a shift in perspective so important?

Anyone who prepares himself while he or she is a healthy person, if they later catch a more serious illness, will benefit from this text. Nursi’s thoughts on the meaning of illness and potential remedies can play an important role in preparation. Those who internalize his message can help prevent the emotional fall into depression and may instead hope for a cure.

Said Nursi’s first view presents its readers with the understanding that illness should not be seen as a problem that brings bitterness into life, but that you can also draw strength out of it. There may, as said before, be different ascriptions of meaning to human life, but ultimately all people agree that life is something precious and offers a variety of opportunities. The direction of our lives depends on which use we make of these opportunities.

Those who consider illness as something negative will experience every illness as a curse. Such an attitude has a negative impact on the patient and their environment and turns them very pessimistic. They might castigate themselves, and ask questions like: “Why is it me of all people who has ​​this disease?” In extreme cases, this can lead the patient to become delusional and withdraw from society. A shift in perspective, however, can release positive energy and let sorrow and pain melt away.

Those who recognize the opportunities offered by life and appreciate the efforts and labors of everyday life as something positive will concede that even diseases have a meaningful function – for themselves and humanity as a whole.

Nursi says that ill people perceive time differently, which enables them to observe their environment from a more passive perspective. This passivity is supposed to tear modern, urbanized people from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and move them to a pause. It decelerates the lives of those affected and leads them to horizons healthy people find difficulty to access.

Nursi’s second view goes to the role of prayer which he defines in two forms: positive and negative prayers. He refers to prayers like ritual worship, fasting, supplication, and other forms of remembrance as “positive” (müspet) prayers. “Negative” (menfi) prayer on the other hand is attaining awareness and knowledge of one’s own vulnerability and mortality – which is more likely to arise in moments of illness rather than any other time – as a result of which one turns to God in praise of His ultimate power and infinity. Nursi signifies these positive and negative prayers as the second remedy.

The insight into our own transience, which is the third remedy, allows the ill person to recall their past mistakes, many of which might have been forgotten, and allows them to reconcile with themselves and their fellow humans. According to Nursi, this allows a person to realize they are not as perfect and as infallible as they thought. Illness makes people honest: honest with themselves and with others. The confession of the own fallibility is tantamount to an admission of human weakness and mortality.

Viewed from this perspective, the question arises as to whether illness itself is a cure for mankind. It conveys us new views and leads us to reconsider our previous positions. The ill person becomes an observer, and he finally has time to start thinking. As said by Nursi, he realizes that mankind may be considered the crown of creation. But man’s frailty, his aging, and also the health problems of other people make him realize that life on earth is not all there is – a realization that opens his eyes and takes him out of the darkness into the light. Becoming aware of one’s mortality takes away any thoughtlessness. It causes a person to shed laziness and reflect on their obligations.

If the patient manages to do so, they will feel gratitude and be patient, not least in dealing with physical ailments. This gratitude and patience is what Nursi refers to as the fourth remedy. For Nursi, the body is not the property of man, but rather a loan, which he may not dispose of freely. Suffering is to be endured, since it can do some good, too. Nursi characterizes it as a kind of bonus, which God the ultimate owner of our body grants to us, and we should not protest against it.

Chronic diseases or disabilities, which are seen very negatively in today’s society, can be reinterpreted positively in this way because, as Nursi asserts, they bring a gain in knowledge compared that we cannot achieve when healthy. As a result of their illness, they understand new things that healthy people cannot, just as blind, deaf, or dumb people perceive their environment differently, and sometimes more sharply, than people without physical limitations.

Each person strives for well-being, mercy, and forgiveness, and every sorrow and misfortune also harbors rays of mercy in it. From behind the veil of the illness many quite pleasant insights can emerge. A new consciousness arises, and thus many people gain the courage to take risks and reposition oneself in life.

This maturity Nursi describes as the fifth remedy and it can be observed especially in young ill people. Because of their illness, and in contrast to their peers, they have to cope with issues that seem to contradict their youth. They do not fall into the typical noise of youth and are relieved of thoughtlessness and of the pressures of everyday life.

From this point of view, health, for some people, can be even a calamity that can make their heads spin and blind, and lets them lose sight of the fact that their life does not last forever.

Conclusion

Even these first 5 of 25 views on the subject of illness show that not everything, which is interpreted as negative, is actually negative. A shift in perspective can often work wonders.

Nevertheless, such a shift in perspective appears quite disconcerting initially in our modern society in which health equals to a gift and illness to a disaster. If we have considered diseases as the enemy for so long, why should we suddenly welcome disease? A notion that a disease may also enrich the patient and their friends and family is a useful approach. Surely, the thought that positive thinking can influence the illness (coping), and even contribute to the healing process, is quite common. However, the angle shift described by Said Nursi goes much further. And in my eyes, there is no doubt that it is able to significantly improve the quality of a patient’s life and environment.

Illness allows ill persons to pull out from everyday life, at least for some time. Thereby, it gives them new insights and opens doors that probably would have remained closed if they had stayed healthy. Illness allows a refocusing of which we can benefit from as individuals and communities.

Erdogan Karakaya is pursuing a master’s degree in history in Heidelberg, Germany.

Footnotes

1. Nursi, Said. 2009. 25 Remedies for the Sick, the Twenty-fifth Gleam, NJ: Tughra Books.
2. Deva in Turkish actually means cure, resort, and solution. In this article it is also understood as view or view angle.

The numerous movements of the past 150 years, characterized almost without exception as ‘Islamic movements’, have had little if anything to do with the resurgence of religious faith as such. Most of these have actually been political movements, with leaders whose underlying goal has been to solve a specific problem: the problem of the perceived backwardness of the Muslim peoples and their subservience, politically and culturally, to the West.

While none of the groups that operate within the definitional matrix of ‘Islamic movements’ can claim to be identifiable primarily as a faith movement, various individuals have appeared sporadically with the avowed aim of fostering renewal of belief – often to the extent of dedicating their whole life’s work to that aim – and around some of these individuals, movements of considerable size and import have accreted. The Turkish Muslim scholar Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (1877/8–1960) is one such individual.

Progenitor of the ‘service of belief and the Qur’an’ movement, Nursi is arguably the most influential, if woefully under-researched, Muslim thinker of the twentieth century. While the ‘service of belief and the Qur’an’ movement, a faith-based movement consisting of millions of followers worldwide, does not – strictly speaking – fulfill the definitional criteria of a New Religious Movement, it stands out from other contemporary Muslim religious and ideological groupings not only for its uncompromising focus on the renewal of individual rather than collective faith, but also for its eschewal of any kind of religiously-legitimized violence or militancy for the sake of politico-ideological ends.

Although often stereotyped as the pioneer of reform of an Islam declining under the pressures inflicted on it by the Kemalist secularization policy of the Turkish state, almost half a century after his death, Nursi continues to defy any attempts to locate him precisely within the generally accepted milieu of ‘Muslim scholars’. While his magnum opus, the Risale-i Nur, is for all intents and purposes a commentary on the Qur’an, it is not a work of exegesis in the technical sense of the word, although he was clearly an accomplished exegete. And while Nursi was well-versed in the principles of scholastic theology (kalām), devoting the lion’s share of the Risale to what he claims are rational proofs for the unity (tawhīd) of God, it is not a work of traditional theology either.

In fact, on one level, the Risale is as resistant to compartmentalization as the Qur’an itself, which it claims to mirror and to elucidate. And if, as Nursi often asserts, the aim of the Qur’an is to guide man to belief, then the teachings of the Risale should be seen as consonant with that aim.

The three supreme matters in the worlds of humanity and Islam are belief, the Shari’a, and life. Since the truths of belief are the greatest of these, the Risale-i Nur’s select and loyal students avoid politics with abhorrence so that they should not be made the tool to other currents and subject to other forces, and those diamond-like Qur’anic truths not reduced to fragments of glass in the view of those who sell or exploit religion for the world, and so that they can carry out to the letter the duty of saving belief, the greatest duty.

Part of Nursi’s appeal lay in his uncompromising belief that it is belief (īmān) which must be renewed and protected, and that all other endeavors must be approached with the primacy of belief in mind: the fact that, unlike many of the popular Muslim thinkers of his own epoch, he repudiated the dubious art of politics – and, more importantly, the dubious art of politicking that is buttressed by religion – earned him respect and conferred on him a sense of authenticity that would perhaps be found wanting in so many other Muslim thinkers. Another part of his appeal lay in his shrewd interpretation of the forces ranged against him. For Nursi, unlike many of the Muslim scholars, leaders and ideologues who came later, realized that if there is a conflict between Islam – or belief – and modernity, it is not a conflict fought over issues of government or technology, over science or democracy. As Nursi’s own evaluation of the problems facing the Muslim world shows, the conflict is ultimately over transcendence, with the post-Enlightenment experiment claiming a centrality in the universe’s affairs for man that Islam, with its emphasis on the dependence of man on God, cannot countenance. Man is faced with a choice: belief in the sovereignty of God or belief in the sovereignty of man, with all that such a choice entails. For Nursi, the way to salvation consists solely in choosing the Other over the self, and it is in the dynamics of this choice that the key to an understanding of Nursi’s take on spirituality and man’s place in the cosmos may be found.

Renewal and reform, then, do play a central role in the Nursian Weltanschauung, but, unlike so many of his coevals, it is the renewal of belief and the reform of the individual that constitute his primary and overriding concern. In this respect, he is one of few Muslim thinkers in the twentieth century who has little if anything to say about the socio-economic or political externalia of Muslim life. Over the past century and a half in general, and the last twenty-five years in particular, ‘Islam is a complete way of life’ has been the mantra of choice for the vast majority of Muslim movements. As a corollary, emphasis has been largely on the ‘implementation’ of Islam at the socio-political level, with debate and discussion focusing mainly on issues such as Islamic law, Islamic education and the concept of the Islamic state. As such, the lion’s share of Muslim movements can be said to adopt an ‘externalist’ approach to the Islamic revelation, seeing in the strict adherence of Muslims to the shari‘a – and, where necessary, the imposition of such adherence through legislative means – the key to the formation of the ideal Muslim society. For the ‘externalists,’ reform has come to mean chiefly the reform of society, the underlying aspiration of which must be to return to the ‘golden age’ of Islam typified – for the externalists at least – by the community-state of Medina during the lifetime of the Prophet. These ‘dreams of Medina’, and the concomitant desire to share – or, even, impose – those dreams on others, are responsible in part for the current Western perception of Islam as more political ideology than divinely-revealed religion. The relative merits and demerits of ‘Islamism’ or ‘political Islam’ as terms by which to describe this over-politicized approach to Islam need not occupy us here. Suffice to say that in the last analysis, this approach rests on the fulcrum that is the return of ‘Islamic rule’, the transformation of the Muslim world into an umma analogous to the community-state of Medina and, wittingly or otherwise, the reduction of the Islamic revelation to the single issue of governance. While Islam made political and transformed into ideology is a relatively recent phenomenon, the ‘externalist’ approach to Islam which informs it is almost as old as Islam itself. However, whereas for the likes of ‘non-externalists’ such as Ghazali in the twelfth century and Mulla Sadra in the seventeenth it was the nomocentrism of the externalist scholars and the over-emphasis on fiqh (jurisprudence) which constituted the greatest obstacles to the health of the Muslim community, for the Ghazalis and Sadras of today – of whom Nursi is undoubtedly one – it is the over-politicization of religion which is the danger.

Arguably the most important common denominator among Islamic/Islamist groups and leaders of the past fifty to one hundred years has been the tendency to favour the use of force to change ‘religiously suspect’ regimes in the Muslim world and bring about Islamic revolutions. And it is precisely on this point where one sees a fundamental difference between Nursi and his contemporaries. For not only is Nursi distinguished by his staunch opposition to any kind of uprising or revolution in the name of Islam, but also he stands on account of his aversion to politics in general, and the politicization of Islam in particular. Nowhere is Nursi’s ideological departure from the majority of his contemporaries delineated more sharply than on the highly contentious issue of jihād. As emphasized above, for Nursi, the way to salvation consists solely in choosing the Other over the self, and it is in the dynamics of this choice that the key to an understanding of Nursi’s take on spirituality and jihād may be found.

There are many for whom it is clear that humanity is in a precarious position. We are told on a daily basis that we live under the threat of pollution, global warming, terrorism, famine and a thousand and one different ills. Our time is, we are told, a time of global crisis. Yet few are able to fathom the real cause of this crisis. It is not that we do not understand the problems around us. Our crisis – the crisis of modernity – is that we do not understand ourselves. Indeed, postmodern thought – if such a thing exists and is not really just another name for the confused ideas of late modernity – nurtures a scepticism in which the very possibility of understanding anything is called into question.

Most people, Nursi claims, have been reduced to hardship and misery by the demands and dictates of modern times. Man’s innate nobility has also been marred, he says, as the gradual divorce from religious values has opened the floodgates of ‘dissipation’, encouraging dissolute living and the ‘appetites of the flesh.’

Socio-economic inequalities are also the hallmark of this modern civilization, Nursi adds, with the Western attitude being “So long as I am full, what is it to me that others die of hunger?” and “You work so that I can live in ease and comfort’. By allowing the rift between the classes to widen, the West has engendered so much strife and sedition that it is on the brink of bringing humanity to its knees, giving rise to the struggle between capital and labor – itself the precursor of two World Wars and bloodshed and disorder on a hitherto unknown scale.

One could go on, but surely the point has been made: it was impossible for Said Nursi to approve of a civilization in which the negative aspects outweighed the positive so decisively. For Nursi, the only way forward for man is to embrace a civilizational form which brings true happiness and prosperity – and if not for all, then at least for the majority.

Human beings are faced with a choice: belief in the sovereignty of God or belief in the sovereignty of man, with all that such a choice entails. For Nursi, the way to salvation consists solely in choosing the Other over the self, and it is in the dynamics of this choice that the key to an understanding of Nursi’s take on the ‘true civilization’ may be found.

For Said Nursi, for man to be truly human, he must establish for himself not an Islamic state, but an Islamic state of mind. If, in secular shorthand, ‘civilization’ is the highest thing towards which man as a social being can aspire, let us see how Said Nursi redefines the term to make it truly meaningful for limited, impotent man, giving it the ability to ‘confront the awesome silence of the grave’ in a way that no other civilization is able. Comparing Western civilization with the ideational entity known as Islamic civilization, he locates the source of the former in human artfulness (daha) and that of the latter in Divine guidance (huda). These sources, he holds, impact in very different ways on society in general and the individual in particular.

Artfulness, writes Nursi, functions in the mind and confuses the heart. It looks to the material and to the corporeal, considering the body and the evil-commanding soul, which it seeks to nurture. It develops the potentialities of the nafs while making of the ruh a servant or slave. In its love of this world, which is the only world it recognizes, it turns man into a satan, worshipping deaf nature and, in its blindness, drawing a veil of ingratitude over the face of the earth. It sees the bounties before it as ownerless booty, which it usurps like a common thief.

Guidance, on the other hand, works in the heart and lights up the spirit. It develops man’s potentialities and spiritual capacities and, in so doing, illuminates nature. It makes of the soul and the body and in so doing produces happiness in this world and the next. It sees Divine art everywhere, and the wisdom and power of God in all things. It worships Allah, the possessor of art and power. It is both seeing and hearing, and as it benefits from Divine bounties, it scatters the light of thankfulness all around it.

In Nursian terms, then, to be truly civilized, man must be truly human, and to be truly human, his goal is not the kind of khilafa that engenders power but the kind of khilafa which engenders worship – namely the nurturing of each individual soul into its true state as khalifat Allah fi al-ard, vicegerent on Earth. This, for Nursi, marks the true civilization to which man should aspire.

Dr. Colin Turner from Durham University, UK, is the co-author of Said Nursi, 2009, Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies and IB Tauris, London, New York.

I was approached by The Fountain editorial board to write something on the issue of parents and family, on the occasion of Mother’s Day. Family relations and respect for parents and elders are considered among the universal values of humanity. In this modern day, the importance is ever more evident. Almost all religious traditions share in these values – one need not look far to find Judeo-Christian or Islamic references to this. The Judeo-Christian tradition posits this value among its Ten Commandments and there are many Qur’anic and Hadith references to this in the Islamic tradition. It is interesting to see in all of these addresses that Nursi uses general terms to refer to all humans, not only Muslims. In many cases, this mimics the Qur’anic method.

Nursi frames his discussion of honoring one’s parents by making use of a Qur’anic verse, which is as follows:

Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him and to be kind to your parents. If either of them or both reach old age with you, do not say to them “Fie,” nor rebuke them, but say to them kind words. And lower to them the wing of humility out of mercy and say: “Lord, have mercy on them, as they took care of me when I was a child.” Your Lord knows best what is in your hearts. If you are righteous, He is All-Forgiving to those who repent. (17:23-25)

Nursi is most concerned with those who are heedless in their observance of this duty – those who house their parents or other relatives reluctantly or without honoring them. He writes:

“O you, who are unaware of the filial responsibility towards parents, in whose house is an old parent, or a helpless, invalid relative or brother-in-religion unable to make a living! Heed the verses quoted above and see how they insist in five different ways on the affection to be shown to parents!”1

He continues:

“Of course, paternal affection for children is one of the sublime realities of worldly life and, in turn, filial gratitude to them is a most urgent and heavy duty to be performed. Parents sacrifice their lives lovingly for their children, and if this is so, what falls to a child who has not lost his humanity and transformed into a monster of ingratitude, is to show sincere respect for them, to serve them willingly, and to try to gain their approval.

“With regard to filial respect and service, uncles and aunts are like parents.”2

Nursi emphasizes one of the problems which modern humanity faces; the busy, fast-paced lifestyle and the financial burdens involved in maintaining a modern standard of living. In response to those who justify their reluctance to care for elderly relatives based on these terms, Nursi contends:

“O you, who are immersed in earning your livelihood! Know that your disabled relative whom you regard as unbearable in your house is, in fact, the means of blessing and abundance. Never complain that you can scarcely make a living (that your means of subsistence are strained), for were it not for the blessing and abundance bestowed on you, you would have to face even more difficulties in making your living. This is an undeniable reality, which I could prove to you except that I would like to keep this letter brief. Believe me, I swear by God that this is an established reality to which even my satan and evil-commanding self have yielded.”3

Nursi compares the caring of elderly relatives to that of young children in the following:

Indeed, as is witnessed by the whole of existence, when the Generous, Majestic Creator, Who is infinitely merciful, compassionate, gracious and munificent, sends children to the world, He sends them together with their sustenance which He abundantly provides through the breasts of mothers. In the same way, He sends in the form of blessing and unseen, immaterial abundance, the sustenance of the old, who are like children and even more worthy and needy of compassion than children. He does not load their sustenance onto mean, greedy people.”4

Following this quote, Nursi refers to two Qur’anic verses, which are, respectively:

Surely, God is the All- Provider, the Mighty One, the Strong. (51:58)
How many a beast does not bear its provision, yet God provides for it and for you. He is All-Hearing, All-Knowing. (29:60)

According to Nursi, not only do humans receive their sustenance through God’s grace, but animals do as well. He writes:

“So, not only the sustenance of old relatives, but also that of pets, like cats, which are created as friends to human beings, and usually live on food from human beings, is, again, sent in the form of blessing. I have personally observed this:

“Some years ago, my daily ration consisted of half a loaf of bread. Since the loaf was very small, I barely managed with it, until four cats became my everyday guests. No sooner did they begin sharing my bread, than the same ration was always enough for all of us.

“I witnessed this so often that it convinced me that I benefited from the blessing coming through the cats. I openly declared that I was rather indebted to them, and not they to me.”5

Nursi addresses all humans in general terms, writing:

“O man, a human being is the most esteemed, noble and most worthy of respect among creatures; among human beings, the believers are the most perfect. Among the believers, the helpless, old people are those who are the most worthy and needy of respect and compassion. Among the old, the relatives deserve affection, love and service more than the others, and among the relatives, parents are the most truthful confidants and most intimate companions. Now, O man, if an animal becomes the means of blessing and abundance when it stays as a guest in a person’s house, then you can conclude how invaluable a means of blessing and mercy parents are in a house and, additionally, as stated in the hadith ‘But for the old bent double, calamities would be pouring down upon you,’ what an important means for the removal of calamities they are.”6

In the following excerpt, Nursi makes a fitting comparison to the prospect of one becoming an elder in need of compassion and service oneself. He cites a statement from Islamic culture that holds that “punishment is based on the nature of one’s actions.” Thus, if one does not offer respect to his or her parents, then one’s children will, in turn, not respect or provide service in the future. By extension, if one wants the compassion of the Most Merciful, one need be merciful to those entrusted to one’s household and care. It is interesting that Nursi notes that whatever one lives for, either worldly desires or the afterlife, such compassion and service are requisites for attaining any future goals.

In further writings on the sick and infirm, Nursi speaks of those who care for these patients. He says:

“Indeed, there is significant reward for believers for looking after the sick. Enquiring after their health and visiting the sick – on condition it does not tax them – is Sunna and also atonement for sins. There is an Hadith which says, ‘Receive the prayers of the sick, for their prayers are acceptable.’”

Especially when the sick are relations, in particular parents, looking after them is important worship, yielding significant reward. To please a sick person’s heart and console him or her, is comparable to significant alms-giving. Fortunate is the person who pleases the easily touched hearts of their father and mother at the time of illness, and receives their prayer.7

Footnotes

1 Nursi, S., The Letters, Kaynak A.S., Izmir, 1997 Twenty-first Letter, p. 53.

2 ibid., 53-54. 3 ibid., 54. 4 ibid. 5 ibid., 55. 6 ibid.

7 Nursi, S., The Flashes Collection, Sozler Publications, Istanbul, 2000, Seventeenth Remedy, p. 278.