To prove his point, Nursi states three possibilities to explain the existence of things in the universe:

1. Everything is created by causes

2. Everything is created on its own

3. Everything is an outcome of natural laws.

The common theme of these three possibilities is that creation is dependent on some natural rules and causes. Bediuzzaman refutes these possibilities by arguing that these rules and causes are not conscious; thus, they are not aware of other causes or the ultimate purpose. From this, Nursi concludes that natural causes are not true creators but veils—screens behind which the act of creation takes place, while we perceive only laws and outcomes on the surface. This article explores this argument by relating it to contemporary scientific and technological examples.

Mechanisms do not explain agency

One point of discussion in this debate is whether elements in nature operate randomly or follow a certain manual, so to speak. Modern molecular biology give us numerous examples to ponder over this point. For instance, T-cells, a type of immune cells, are able to distinguish whether a cell belongs to the host or not via their highly precise receptors [2]. Such a precise receptor cannot be adequately explained by randomness alone, without a system of built-in rules that guide and stabilize its formation. Similarly, B-cells, which are another type of immune cells, can produce highly accurate antibodies against pathogens in the body. To be able to produce these antibodies, they have gone through a process called hypermutation and selection in which many versions of antibodies with small changes are made and only the most effective ones are retained [3]. Such a process is not random; on the contrary it follows specific selection criteria. Neither B-cells, nor other components involved in B-cell mutation have intelligence or training to conduct these processes on their own. They appear to be following an instruction manual, which has been provided by an authority who knows every detail of these processes.

Some people have the tendency to underestimate such complexity as soon as the mechanism of these systems are demystified through scientific discoveries. Discovering the underlying mechanism of a complex biological process helps us understand the system but does not indicate that the mechanism has the power to conduct the action. In this article, I further discuss this perspective by leveraging the recent advances in Artificial Intelligence (AI) as analogies to clarify the distinction between mechanism and agency.

Why technology makes this easier to see

I use examples from AI and modern computing because they can turn abstract ideas into concrete pictures, even for children, who often find abstraction difficult. For instance, the idea of recording all of our deeds by a Creator is easier to grasp in a world where phones, sensors, and street cameras quietly record what happens around us. Being in multiple places at the same time is also easier to understand via technologies such as virtual reality.

Several examples from computer science and modern technology help us better understand the relationship between mechanisms, rules, and agency in creation—the difference between what executes and what intends. To develop software, we need a programmer—someone with intelligence, power, and intention to write and direct the code. A book cannot exist without a writer, and software cannot exist without a programmer. Similarly, in biology we observe many “books” of information, and information, by its very nature, points beyond itself to an author.

Generative AI makes this contrast especially vivid. With generative AI technologies and methods such as vibe coding, one can now produce working software code using a simple prompt. This shows that parts of writing code can be automated once the underlying structure and rules are already in place. In other words, machines can learn the mechanism of coding, which implies that producing complex software happens automatically. Yet the “autonomy” is borrowed: the AI system is executing mechanisms that someone else designed, trained, and powered. It depends entirely on human-designed architectures, pre-existing data, external energy, and meaningful prompts to function. AI can generate text or code, but it cannot decide why it should do so, nor can it sustain or direct its own existence. We can therefore compare generative AI to a keyboard or a pen—a powerful tool, but still a tool—which requires a “writer” to operate it. Today, the writer (i.e., the user) no longer needs to specify every detail; a short prompt can be sufficient.

Likewise, biological processes—despite their sophistication and apparent autonomy—do not possess agency. They operate according to rules but rules themselves do not create; they are enacted. Therefore, just as intelligent machines require a human creator, life itself points to a Creator beyond the mechanisms that sustain it. As the Qur’an states: “His command is only when He intends a thing that He says to it, ‘Be,’ and it is” (Surah Ya-Sin 36:82).

Randomness, direction, and purpose

Another common argument suggests that random changes, given enough time, can account for the complexity we observe in life. Time certainly amplifies processes—but time alone does not define direction or meaning. Random variation can generate differences, but without a standard for evaluation, there is no sense of progress.

An everyday analogy makes this clear: Randomly rearranging letters indefinitely will not produce a meaningful book unless there is already an understanding of language and meaning. In the same way, biological changes require more than chance—it requires a framework that distinguishes what works from what does not.

This can be illustrated through computer algorithms, too. An algorithm that undergoes random modifications cannot “improve” unless improvement is defined. In AI, this role is played by an optimization or reward function, which could be described as a built-in goal. Even self-learning systems such as AlphaGo require pre-defined goals and evaluation rules. Without knowing what to optimize for, learning would be impossible.

Likewise, natural processes that seem to develop or improve over time presuppose a standard by which “improvement” is measured. Yet these processes do not define their own goals or evaluation criteria. Order, harmony, beauty, and directed complexity therefore point not merely to rules, but to a conscious source that established those rules with intention.

Autonomy still requires sustenance

A further question naturally follows: even if creation has an origin, does it then run on its own? This is the classical debate between a continuously active Creator and a non-intervening God.

The clock analogy is often used to argue for non-intervention: once a clock is wound, it runs independently. Yet this analogy fails upon closer inspection. Even a clock requires continuous energy; without it, the system stops. The universe likewise depends on energy at every moment. Moreover, unlike a clock, natural systems are not fully deterministic. Flexibility, contingency, and openness to change are intrinsic features of reality.

From a technological perspective, even the most autonomous AI systems remain continuously dependent on external inputs. Agentic AI requires power to operate, retraining when conditions change, and intervention when goals or constraints are altered. Apparent autonomy does not remove dependence—it conceals it.

Similarly, natural laws are not independent actors but frameworks through which ongoing sustenance is expressed. Knowing how a system operates does not eliminate the need for the One who sustains its operation. Rather, the consistency of rules can be understood as a veil through which continuous divine power and will are manifested.

Rules as a veil, not a replacement

Seen in this light, natural laws can be understood not as rivals to divine action, but as expressions of consistency in how that action unfolds. Nature, then, is not the author of existence but the script through which existence is written. Rules describe patterns; they do not generate meaning. Mechanisms enable processes; they do not explain purpose.

By reflecting on both nature and technology, we are reminded of a simple but profound insight: understanding the workings of the universe does not diminish the question of its Creator. It deepens it.

References

1. Nursi, Said. Nature: Cause or Effect. NJ: Tughra Books. 2012.

2. Johannes Pettmann, Anna Huhn, Enas Abu Shah, Mikhail A Kutuzov, Daniel B Wilson, Michael L Dustin, Simon J Davis, P Anton van der Merwe, Omer Dushek (2021) The discriminatory power of the T cell receptor eLife 10:e67092.

3. Syeda, M.Z., Hong, T., Huang, C. et al. B cell memory: from generation to reactivation: a multipronged defense wall against pathogens. Cell Death Discov. 10, 117 (2024).

As the famous Sufi poet Jalal al-Din al-Rumi (d. 1273) once said, “Listen with ears of tolerance, see through eyes of compassion, speak with the language of love” [1]. It was Rumi’s mystical falling in love with God that animated his affective poetry. For many a modern-day observer, however, the connotations of such words as “religion” and “God” would seem divisive and sectarian beyond any hope. There are, however, two prominent theologians of our time who demonstrate that religion and inclusivism are not mutually exclusive: the Canadian philosopher and Catholic theologian Bernard Lonergan (1904-1984) and the Turkish Islamic intellectual Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (1873-1960). The two have wielded, and still do, considerable influence upon their respective religious milieus, presenting original and yet faithful interpretations of their respective traditions that are sensitive to the intellectual and spiritual exigencies of modernity. The two showed that their interpretations of religious experience are conducive to peacemaking and interreligious dialogue.

During his lifetime, Nursi several times reached out to Christian leaders, the most important instances being sending his works to Pope Pius XII in 1950 and visiting the Ecumenical Patriarch Athenagoras in Istanbul in 1953 [2]. Further, despite constant state persecution and arbitrary imprisonments, Nursi’s whole life exemplified his innovative and yet deeply Islamic notion of a “spiritual” or “educational” jihad (jihad-i manawi), one that never resorts to violence and opposes not physical, but “spiritual” enemies: ignorance, poverty, and division. Fr. Thomas Michel, who worked in the Vatican as a Head of the Office for relations with Muslims from 1981 to 1994, states, “Along with Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Said Nursi must be seen as one of the Twentieth Century’s great exponents of non-violent resistance” [3].

Lonergan, in turn, is an important Neo-Thomist thinker who was once presented on the cover of Time magazine as “one of the finest philosophic thinkers of the twentieth Century” [4]. He worked out a transcendental theory of intentional interiority that allows him to argue that dialogue is a must not only between empirical science and theology but also between different religions and diverse worldviews. This article will demonstrate how the two thinkers base their idea of interreligious dialogue on their interpretations of the inward dimension of their religious traditions as an “infatuation with beauty” and a “falling in love,” as well as analysing how their interpretations can foster interfaith dialogue.

Nursi’s philosophy of interreligious dialogue

The value that Nursi places on accepting and understanding the culturally “Other” can be better portrayed if we attend to his epistemology. Nursi incessantly underscores that all his treatises (generically called the Risale-i Nur [Epistles of Light]) are inspired by the Qur’an: he almost always cites a verse of the Qur’an at the beginning of key passages and provides, through what follows, an exegesis of the verse [5]. His interpretation of the Qur’an, in turn, insistently reverts his reader’s attention to the observed data of the sensible world in order to reveal how the created entities point beyond themselves to the divine “Wholly Other” – so much so that, for Nursi, the entire universe might be seen as a materialized form of the Qur’an [6]. This radiant inward dimension of being is called Malakutiyyah (“Intellective Realm”), whereas the outward dimension of the physical world, Mulkiyyah (“Material Realm”). Malakutiyyah discloses itself to anyone who personally reflects and deliberates (tafakkar) on the design of the world after the model provided by Nursi’s exegesis and with the intention of “finding” God in everything. Nursi allegorically assimilates this “Intellective Realm” to the transparent frontside of the mirror. Even if very different forms – some apparently ugly and some apparently beautiful – “intrude” on the Mulkiyyah side of the “mirror,” its “Intellective” aspect always remains transparent and beautiful, as it looks to the Creator of all beings [7]. On the Malakutiyyah level, all individual entities of the world – humanity first and foremost – constantly and ubiquitously partake of divine holiness thanks to their being loci of Allah’s reflected “Superb Names” (al-Asma’ al-Husna) mentioned in the Qur’an. Even if God’s essence (Zhatullah) is ineffable, the divine names’ observable activity in the world displays divine artistry for anyone willing to intend God through his or her reflective thought. Such a thought will show that, for instance, philosophy is based on the Superb Name Hakim (All-Wise), medicine on the Name Shafi (Healer), and geometry on the Name Muqaddir (Determiner), and so on. The same goes for human perfections and all levels of human virtues – they are founded on the Superb Names [8].

It is this inward “Qur’anic” outlook that allows Nursi to perceive everything in the world as intelligible and dialogic in the sense that all created entities – different as they might be in appearance – are essentially beautiful divine “mirrors” telling something about God and requiring that their observers appreciate them: “Beauty and fairness desire to see and be seen. Both require the existence of yearning witnesses and bewildered admirers” [9]. This yearning and this admiration show all things as inwardly lovable and allows Nursi to say, “Love is the cause of the universe’s existence and is what binds it; and it is both the light of the universe and its life. Since man is the most comprehensive fruit of the universe, a love that will conquer the universe has been included in his heart, the seed of that fruit” [10].

Of course, Nursi’s constant focus on his “Qur’anic lenses” might invoke – in some people’s minds – a sense of absolutism and inability to learn from the culturally Other. To ward off such a possibility, Nursi bases his idea of beings as “mirrors of God” on two aspects. First, in the same way as the darkness serves as a foil for the beauty of light to manifest, the impotence of human beings – their weaknesses, shortcomings, and mistakes – serve as a foil for the power of the All-Powerful, All-Subsistent and Perfect One to manifest His Names all the more intensively. So, Nursi warns that the believer is to use the reflective thought to see how the Superb Names self-manifest through things and through his or her own being, not in things or in his or her being, lest he or she come to deify or absolutize his or her personality, culture, or nationality [11]. Secondly, human beings are only mirrors to the Names, not the authentic possessors thereof [12]. (That is to say, humans, thanks to their self-awareness and if they are not self-conceited, are able to compare their activity/attributes with those of the Transcendent and come to appreciate the latter’s awe-inspiring beauty, i.e. come to know God. Someone who has built a physical house and self-identifies as a “builder,” for instance, can profoundly admire the One who has built the magnificent Universe.) Our “mirror-like” nature, however, manifests the Superb Names only in an incomplete manner; for Nursi, we “possess” them in a metaphorical, partial, and temporary manner. This, in turn, means that our “mirror-like” natures are inherently open to learn from the manifestations of the Superb Names within other cultures and religions.

This being the case, for Nursi, no animosity can make serious inroads in the minds of those who can contemplate the Real in this vein. Even if someone does not accept the Real as such, this “someone” remains His mirror, epiphany, and masterpiece, which means that he or she is to be ontologically appreciated, not violated against. However, in Nursi’s view, one is able to realize this sense of appreciation of the world only if one purifies one’s sense of self – which he calls “I-ness” (anā) – from any egocentrism. If anā looks at one’s selfhood with an attitude that is self-indicative rather than God-indicative, the entirety of the reflections of the Names come to be attributed to the human person’s ego, thereby giving rise to spiritual ignorance and intolerance [13].

Lonergan’s philosophy of interreligious dialogue

The very heart of Lonergan’s take on interreligious dialogue rests in what he calls “GEM” (“Generalized Empirical Method”): it provides a basis not only for any interdisciplinary cooperation, but for interreligious dialogue as well. It presupposes that, at least theoretically, the disinterested desire to know and wonder – which is pertinent to all humans as long as they are humans and not only scientists, historians of religion, or theologians – drives all humans to be attentive to data, intelligent in understanding, reasonable in judgments, and responsible in decisions [14]. Lonergan’s system proposes that the very structure of the interlocutors’ intentional consciousness leads them to seek what is authentic and true in the ways of the religious Other and to anticipate the possibility of “integrated understanding” between various religious traditions. Further, the interlocutors should see any differences, obvious as they are at first glance, as “genetic,” i.e., reconcilable, rather than “dialectic,” i.e., irreconcilable. Any point-blank refusal of the interlocutors to see the existence of at least some important similarities with the Other, signals, for Lonergan, an unauthenticity of their own thinking due to its affliction with one or several biases [15]. That is, the powerful drive of the interlocutors’ disinterested desire to wonder in an unrestricted manner might be frustrated by one or several of the following four biases. The first one is dramatic bias, that is, the existence of psychic aberrations or underdevelopment within the interlocutors caused by their “psychic wounds.” The second one is egoistic bias, i.e., one’s self-centeredness that refuses to allow for even a minimal degree of self-abnegation necessary to consider the common good. The third one is collective bias that “favors what is best for the group at the expense of others outside the group.” The fourth one is general bias that disregards questions that do not seem to be of immediate practical importance [16].

Further, Lonergan asserts that, if one self-transcends by remaining not only attentive, not only intelligent, not only reasonable, but also responsible (he calls these levels of intentionality as the “four transcendentals”), one comes to be well-positioned to reach the fullness of one’s ontological, axiological, and epistemological horizons by mystically falling “in love with God” in an immediate and unrestricted manner [17]. This love operates within the parameters of one’s intentional interiority, and yet it comes as a free gift of God’s grace that brings about the most genuine state of one’s relation to God, namely a “dynamic state of being in love in an unrestricted manner” [18]. This unmediated experience of God’s love is transcultural as far as its inner nature goes; from the standpoint of different cultural contexts and historical periods, it is mediated differently through different religious and cultural expressions, practices, and traditions [19]. Lonergan calls this experience as the “infrastructure” or “inner word” which ensues upon the Holy Spirit “flooding one’s heart,” and it becomes a hermeneutical toolkit for one’s authentic response to the challenges of interreligious dialogue [20].

Even if this mystical state of “being-in-love” is transcultural, for Lonergan, the Christian claim that religion is being in love with God in an unrestricted manner, renders Christianity unique. Lonergan insists that the “outer word” of the Christian tradition is more than just a religious experience objectified: it was given as revelation, coming from Jesus Christ [21]. That is, for Lonergan, “infrastructure” that informs the very spirit of religious faith, presupposes its mediation and objectification vis-à-vis the world through the “superstructure” of language and beliefs, meanings and values, scripture and sacraments, and community and culture. For him, however, Christian doctrine is this “superstructure” par excellence, and its unique appropriateness cannot be transcended by any universal mystical experience [22]. In other words, for Lonergan, the authoritativeness and structure of this outer word is such that it can be conceived as the most direct mediation of immediacy and becomes, if properly appropriated, “second immediacy” [23].

Differences-in-Similarities

As follows from the abovementioned, the positions of the two thinkers can be broadly identified as “inclusivism.” While they acknowledge that God’s salvific activity can unfold everywhere in the world in an overt or covert manner, they make it clear that, wherever it unfolds, it does so as either the ubiquitous operation of the Qur’anic “Superb Names” (Nursi) or the Christian notion of “love of God flooding our hearts” (Lonergan). Both seem to have realized that most people are never totally detached from their tradition and that any God-talk is bound to be “confessional” – but not necessarily “confessionalist.” Naturally, one starts interreligious dialogue based on the minimal “non-negotiable,” premises of one’s religion.

At first glance, Lonergan’s clear distinction between the “inner word” as pertaining to the “unmediated experience of the mystery of love” and the “outer word” as this love’s mediated expression, allows him to see a somewhat deeper unity behind the differences. For him, the gift of God’s love justifies dialogue with “all Christians, with non-Christians, and even with atheists who may love God in their hearts while not knowing him with their heads” [24]. For Nursi, in contrast, aggressive atheism is evil to be wrestled with by the “Qur’anic sword of persuasion”; it is irreconcilable with genuine civilization. Indeed, he sees an atheistic civilization a contradiction in terms, for genuine civilization is possible only if humans recognize the transcendent meaning of their lives and thus gain in virtue [25].

Yet, the importance of the mystical love of God as the inner telos behind all events is the common point in which the dialectics of their difference might be resolved. Nursi’s overall accent on one’s affective appreciation of the beauty of the world as reflective of the divine beauty, allows one to contextualize his apparently incoherent lack of charity toward atheistically minded people. It might hark back to such facts as his identification of the penetration of atheistic assertions and materialistic ideologies as the root problem facing the Muslim world at the start of the 20^th century or his lack of travel to Europe at the time of peace (he spent 2 years in Russia but only as a prisoner-of-war) [26]. The inner structure of Nursi’s theology makes it incumbent upon his followers – under normal social and political conditions – to pursue meaningful dialogue even with non-religious or atheistic people. Another possibility to reconcile Nursi’s position with that of Lonergan’s is to address the meaning of the word “atheism.” If it denotes, as John Paul II said, “not knowing the true nature of created reality but absolutizing it, and therefore ‘idolizing’ it,” [27] then Lonergan’s discourse on biases would rather concur with Nursi’s strictures on atheism.

Conclusion

As Ian Markham, a Nursi scholar and Episcopal priest says, in order for any interfaith encounter to be meaningful, one has to know, understand, and love one’s own tradition, for one will “find it easy to recognize in others the same depth of commitment and affection” [28]. Indeed, two music enthusiasts (say, one involved in jazz, the other in choral) “can relate much more effectively to each other than with the musical amateur who cannot read music” [29]. One’s discovery of the common “inner dimensions” within different faith-traditions, is greatly facilitated when one first fathoms the profundity of one’s own one. Nursi and Lonergan are deeply in love with their traditions and yet contemplate, through the inner mystical dimensions of their traditions, the beauty of other ways. Even if the “inner dimensions” of the two religions are remarkably transparent and transcultural, there should be some place that can determine the legitimacy (or lack thereof) of insights emerging from one’s encounter with the Other. There is an inward spirit behind any outward form; in order to penetrate to the spirit, however, one first needs the form. One can argue that it is this aspect of both thinkers’ ideas that makes them so appealing to their respective religious milieus today. If Ian Markham says that Nursi’s “Qur’anic” approach could, in principle, be “affirmed by any traditional Muslim,”[30] arguably the same statement can be made about Lonergan, too: his “inner word” can be seen as nothing but a harmonious development of the current position of Catholic church regarding the “seeds of the Word” present and active in different religions.

References

1. Mahmoud Masaeli and Rico Sneller, “Introduction,” in Responses of Mysticism to Religious Terrorism: Sufism and Beyond, ed. Mahmoud Masaeli & Rico Sneller (Oud-Turnhout: Gompel&Svacina, 2020), 8.
2. Thomas Michel, “Muslim-Christian Dialogue and Cooperation in the Thought of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi,” in Said Nursi’s Views on Muslim-Christian Understanding, ed. Shukran Vahide (Istanbul: Soz Basim Yayin, 2005), 36.
3. Thomas Michel, “Dialogue of Ideas between the Thought of Pope John Paul II and the Risale-I Nur,” in Globalization, Ethics, and Islam, ed. Ian Markham and Ibrahim Ozdemir, (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 44.
4. Gerard Whelan, “The Continuing Significance of Bernard Lonergan,” Thinking Faith, https://www.thinkingfaith.org/articles/20080923_1.htm (accessed August 24, 2021).
5. Ian Markham, An Introduction to Said Nursi: Life, Thought and Writings (Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2011), 18.
6. Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, Sualar [Rays], (Istanbul: Soz Basim Yayin, 2003), 200.
7. Said Nursi, Signs of Miraculousness (Istanbul: Sozler Publications, 2004), 72, in Colin Turner, The Qur’an Revealed: A Critical Analysis of Said Nursi’s Epistles of Light (Berlin: GerlachPress, 2013), 91.
8. Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, The Words: On the Nature and Purposes of Man, Life, and All Things, trans. Sukran Vahide (Istanbul: Sozler Publications, 2008), 655.
9. Nursi, Words, 80.
10. Nursi, Words, 367.
11. Farid al-Ansari, Miftāḥ al-Nūr fī Mafāhīm Rasā’il al-Nūr (Miknas: Jami‘at al-Sulṭān al-Mawlā Ismā‘īl, Kindle Edition), 117-118.
12. Al-Ansari, Miftāḥ, 115.
13. Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, Al-Mathnawi Al-Nuri: Seedbed of the Light, trans. Huseyin Akarsu (New Jercey: Light, 2007), 376.
14. Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology, ed. Robert M. Doran and John D. Dadosky (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017), 101-2.
15. John Dadosky, The Structure of Religious Knowing: Encountering the Sacred in Eliade and Lonergan (New York: State University of New York Press, 2004), 35, 38.
16. Bernard Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992, 214-5, 242-253.
17. Lonergan, 2017, 105.
18. Dadosky, 2004, 30.
19. Joseph Flanagan, “Lonergan’s New Context for Theology,” Revista Portuguesa de Filosofia 63, (2007), 211 (193-215).
20. Dadosky, 2004, 32.
21. Ibid.
22. William Johnston, The Inner Eye of Love (New York: Harper and Row Publishers, Inc., 1978), 65, in Nancy C. Ring, Doctrine within the Dialectic of Subjectivity and Objectivity: A Critical Study of the Positions of Paul Tillich and Bernard Lonergan, (San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1991), 145-6. Dadosky, 144.
23. Ring, 1991, 147.
24. Lonergan, 2017, 261.
25. Markham, “Secular or Religious Foundations,” in Globalization, Ethics, and Islam, ed. Ian Markham and Ibrahim Ozdemir, (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 72.
26. Patrice C. Brodeur, “The Ethics of Dediuzzaman Said Nursi’s Dialogue with the West in Light of His Concept of ‘Europe,’” in Globalization, Ethics, and Islam, 89.
27. John Paul II, “General Audience,” Vatican.Va, Wednesday 14 April 1999, accessed Dec. 9, 2021, https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/1999/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_14041999.html
28. Markham, Ian. Engaging with Bediuzzaman Said Nursi. New York: Routledge, 2016. p. 138.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid. p. 63.

According to the American Humanist Association, nowadays the word “humanism” is popularly understood to imply “some progressive philosophy of life that, without theism or other supernatural beliefs, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment” (American Humanist Association). Rarely, if ever, is religion associated with the ideals of humanism. It is even more so in the case of Islam, which after the attacks on September 11 came to be closely associated with “terrorism,” “intolerance,” and “dogmatism” within the modern mind. Most people seem to remain in the dark about the insightful, life-affirming, and broad-minded philosophies developed by modern Islamic thinkers and adopted by millions of Muslims all over the world.

One such thinker is Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (1877-1960), who wrote thousands of pages of Qur’anic commentary collected under the title of the Risale-i Nur (“The Epistles of Light”). The commentary has become the foundation of a number of Turkish-led modern Islamic movements (Mattson 2013, 249). Nursi’s profound exposition of the Qur’an allows him to speak about a unique and positive vision of humanity embedded in the inward dimensions of Islamic scripture. His worldview tends to be all-inclusive, philosophically profound, and featuring the life-affirming concept of “humanity.” While being erected upon Nursi’s firm religious weltanschauung, his philosophy welcomed cultural diversity and highlighted tolerance and forgiveness as sine qua non for the success of any modern Islamic discourse. Hence this paper’s importance: it will highlight the ideas of Nursi that deal with the notion of “humanity” and will thereby show an authentically Islamic vision of humanity. I will explore Nursi’s concept of humanity by showing the way he bases his understanding upon his Qur’anic interpretation. As Nursi scholar Hakan Coruh argues, the exegetical approach of Nursi is rather difficult to classify: while Nursi himself defines his tafsīr as “spiritual” (tafsīr-i ma‘nawī), it is in fact a synthesis of the traditional kalām (speculative theology) and tafsīr, or, in Coruh’s parlance, a kalāmized Qur’anic exegesis (Coruh 2015, 11).

Purposes of Human Life

Bediuzzaman’s understanding of man draws heavily from the Qur’an. The main question that he tries to address is that of the origins and purposes of human life. The answer, he thinks, is provided in chapter 55, verses 1-4: “The Most Compassionate. He has taught the Qur’an. He created humanity. He taught them speech” (Nursi 1994, 23). Indeed, according to Nursi, the Universe—and humans as a part thereof—came to exist through the manifestation of God’s attributes and names, everything therein owing its existence and vitality to Allah. For example, we can see in all animate things His Names “the Ever-Living One” (al-Ḥayy) and “the Giver of Life” (al-Muḥyi); in the universe’s mind-boggling degree of majestic balance, one can contemplate His Name “the Just” (al-‘Adl). Thus, in the Islamic worldview, Allah is not something conflated with the Universe or defined by natural laws; being the sole creator of all and manifesting His names everywhere, He, nonetheless, stands beyond and above Creation: as Nursi says, the Qur’an does not terminate the stable realities of things (Risale-i Nur Enstitusu). In Bediuzzaman’s own analogy, when one stands on the bank of a spring, he can see the sun reflected on the surface of the bubbles of water passing beneath. The “tiny suns” disappear after a short while, as the bubbles burst. The real sun remains intact, of course. This shows that the sun in no way belongs to the bubbles themselves, being everlasting and independent from the existence of the tiny bubbles (Nursi 2008, 296). The same goes for creatures: through their being alive they allude to the Divine and the life of the Divine; through their deaths they disclose His Permanence (al-qayyūmiyyah).

According to the Qur’an, any kind of knowledge—even that which angels are granted, or that which humans acquire because of their own intellectual pursuits—is a Divine gift. As the Qur’an tells us, “They [i.e. angels] said: ‘Glory be to You! We do have no knowledge save what You have taught us. Verily, You are the All-Knowing, All-Wise’” (Q 2:32). Indeed, it was Adam’s ability to grasp the abstract realities of things through naming them that astonished the angels, distinguishing him from the rest of Creation and entitling him to become God’s viceroy on Earth. For Nursi, the divine origin of the Qur’an renders it an unfailing criterion enabling one to distinguish between authentic and inauthentic knowledge (Nursi 1994, 23). Nursi defines the Qur’an as the embodiment of truth. In the book Ishārāt al-I‘jāz fī Maẓann al-Ijāz (“The Indications of Inimitability in the Loci of Apparent Terseness”), the fifth part of his Qur’anic commentary Risale-i Nur (“Epistles of Light”), Nursi defines the Qur’an as follows:

It is the pre-eternal translator of the great book of the universe; the discloser of the treasures of the divine names concealed in the pages of the earth and the heavens; the key to the truths hidden beneath the lines of events; the treasury of the Most Merciful’s favors and of the pre-eternal addresses, which issue forth from the World of the Unseen beyond the veil of this Manifest World; the sun, foundation, and plan of the spiritual world of Islam, and the map of the worlds of the hereafter. (al-Ansari, 253)

Thus, for him, the real source of the most authentic knowledge is the Qur’anic principles themselves, which “confirm each other in respect of humans’ feelings and intellect, blending them in a Qur’anic combination” (Muhsin 2004, 404). Indeed, according to Nursi, humans can hardly balance out the three aspects of their inner nature, namely their powers of appetite, anger and reasoning (Unal 2007, 51). For the purpose of the Divine test, humans were left unrestrained as far as their use of these inward powers is concerned. For instance, humans are seldom successful at getting the power of their anger to revolve around their courage (which is a combination of anger with reasoning), or in keeping their appetite in check with the principles of chastity (which is a combination of appetite with reasoning). Indeed, our intellect does not always ply the pathway of wisdom (i.e. our understanding of our limits), and justice (as the sum total of all virtues) is yet to be fully maintained in our social life. However, without obtaining this balance, humanity’s happiness is well-nigh impossible. Thus, according to Nursi, only the universal, unfailing intellect of God can cater to our quest for happiness by sending us Divine Revelation (Unal 1998, 24).

Divine Names

Nursi is sure to show that the spiritual viceregency (al-khilāfah al-ma‘nawiyyah) was granted to humanity because of their ability to mirror Divine names and attributes: “Man is a well-composed ode of wisdom proclaiming the manifestations of the Sacred Divine Names, and a seed-like self-evident miracle of Divine power containing all the members of an eternal tree (Nursi 2008, 329).” However, this means that the Divine attribute of “Mutakabbir” (supremely proud) is also reflected in humans, transforming into their self-identity and, sometimes, into outright egotism. Hence the Qur’an says, “We offered the Trust to the Heavens and the Earth and the mountains, and they declined to bear its burden and got afraid thereof. However, humans picked it up” (Q 33:72). Ironically, even if humans oftentimes behave as if they were omnipotent, their direct power is confined to the distance of their arms’ length, for everything further stands out of their immediate command. In fact, physically speaking, the human body is quite helpless compared to other animals. Human knowledge always remains partial in comparison with Allah’s: “O humankind, you are the poor [in relation] to Allah” (Q 35:15). Humankind’s possession of anything is always limited, while their needs are unlimited. One’s mind, thanks to its consciousness of the past and future times, can reduce one to the level of a most wretched animal, for it can arouse in one an insatiable anxiety as to how one can meet one’s unlimited needs. According to Nursi, humans’ duty is to deploy their intellect within the guidelines provided by the universal intellect of the Revelation. They must take recourse to the power of God as an intercessor for their helplessness and resort to His boundless knowledge as a remedy for their ignorance (Unal 2007, 51). Thus, humans’ ontological poverty may become a source of their good qualities. Jealousy might transition into one’s emulating or competing with others with the pure intention of doing good, and one’s ambition can turn into one’s persistence in being virtuous (Unal 2007, 61).

According to Nursi, everything in the Heavens and the Earth serves humans. Humans, however, serve nothing of creaturely order, as their sole existential aim is to serve God, as stipulated in the Qur’an: “I (Allah) did not create the jinns and humans except that they should worship Me,” (Q 51:56) and, “It is He Who created for you all that is on earth” (Q 2:29) (Unal 1994, 4). That is to say, humans act as the ruling kings of nature; thanks to their ability to manage things and manipulate them in a way that benefits them, humans are radically different from animals.

Humans are seen by Nursi as the fruit of the tree of the Universe (al-Ansari, 106). Had any fruit of any tree become sentient and prostrated itself to its Creator, it would have performed an all-embracing type of worship on behalf of the entire tree. Therefore, the fruit is the ultimate goal of the tree and the natural outcome of the tree’s life. In the same vein, humans, being the most perfect creatures in the world, are the latter’s fruit and final goal. As a fruit of a tree bears the whole plan of the tree’s life, the fruit of the universe, that is, humans, are a miniature index and quintessence of everything that the universe contains. To put it differently, humans are microcosms, and the universe is a “macrohuman” (Unal 1998, 4). All chemical and physical elements, indeed, life in all its manifestations—animalistic, vegetative, angelic, or diabolic—is present within humans in the same way it is present in the universe. On this point, Scheler was of the same opinion: humans, he thought, bear within themselves the essence of the whole universe (Unal 1998, 4).

Mirror

According to his Qur’anic anthropology, a unique feature Nursi confers on humans is the notion that we are “mirrors of God.” This conclusion proceeds from the following two aspects:

• In the same way that darkness serves as a foil for the beauty of light, the impotence of humans—their weakness, shortcomings, and mistakes—serve as a foil for the power of the All-Powerful, All-Subsistent, and Perfect One to manifest (al-Ansari, 117, 118).
• Being a mirror of the perfect names of Allah and not the authentic possessor thereof, humans fail to manifest the Divine names and attributes in full. Their partial manifestation within humans is rather meant to highlight the existence of the corresponding names and attributes of Allah, ones that are all-embracing and universal (al-Ansari, 115).

Thus, humans’ lofty attributes serve the mission of being measurement units of the corresponding lofty attributes of the Divine. To put it differently, humanity’s partial and incomplete ability to comprehend the names and attributes of Allah gives it some idea about the unlimited, absolute nature of those names and attributes by the power of contrast. Also, even as far as their physical appearance is concerned, humans are beautiful mirrors of the Divine names and attributes (for instance, their faces are the proof of the inimitable and beautiful creative act) (al-Ansari, 115).  

   Even if humans have the nominal ability to create and manage, Nursi maintains, it is Allah who remains the real creator of everything and its sole manager. Verily, if other creatures “bow” in their servitude to humans, they do so only because Allah meant them to do so and because this “bowing” is their own, unique way of worshipping Allah. This is reflected in the Qur’anic verse “And to Allah prostrates all those within the heavens and the earth, willingly or by compulsion, as do their shadows in the mornings and in the evenings” (Q 13:15).

Dialogue

Another central feature of Nursi is the openness of his philosophy toward dialogue with alternative religious worldviews, especially with that of Christianity. As Ian Markham, a scholar of Nursi’s work, points out, “…Said Nursi is properly labelled an ‘inclusivist.’ He is committed to the truth of Islam… Yet he acknowledges that other traditions have a partial insight into the truth” (Markham 2004, 18). The value that Bediuzzaman placed on dialogue can be understood if we attend to his account of creation. For him everything in the world is intelligible and dialogic, as all entities—different as they might be in appearance—are essentially beautiful mirrors of God requiring that observers appreciate them. As Nursi says in his magnum opus, The Words: “Beauty and fairness desire to see and be seen. Both of these require the existence of yearning witnesses and bewildered admirers” (Nursi 2008, 80). During his lifetime, he several times reached out to Christian leaders, the most important instances being his sending his works to Pope Pius XII in 1950 and the visit that he paid to the Ecumenical Patriarch Athenagoras in Istanbul in 1953. His intention was to invite Muslims and Christians to cooperate against their common existential enemy, atheism (Michel 2005a, 36). According to Nursi, the verse Q 5:51 that calls Muslims “not to take the Jews and the Christians for your friends” is only applicable when the Jews and the Christians demonstrate qualities of disbelief and impiety—and not when they are pious followers of their religion. He also points out that the aforementioned verse should be interpreted within the more general context of Islamic Law. The very fact that Islamic law allows Muslim men to marry Jewish and Christian women suggests for Nursi that, if this profound relationship is allowed, so is friendship between the communities. Most naturally, the spouses will reciprocate love and compassion and will become intimate friends (Michel 2005b, 37). Nursi also found another reason to entertain dialogic relations with Christianity. That is, a Prophetic tradition predicts that, when the end of time will draw close, God-mindful Christians will swell the ranks of Muslims to fight their common adversary—atheism (Michel 2005b, 20). Indeed, the ideological opposition envisaged by Nursi is not against Christianity. Rather, it is against those elements of Western civilization that are alien to the spirit of what he believed to be true Christianity and that are focused on the anthropocentrism of Greco-Roman philosophical thought, which absolutized the human person and marginalized God (Michel 2005a, 29).

All in all, Nursi’s approach to humanity is informed by his unique interpretation of the Qur’an. Well-trained in the ways of modern philosophy and steeped in his own Islamic tradition, he spoke about some sort of theocentric humanism, in which one’s devotion to God necessitates one’s unconditional love for human beings as God’s best creatures to mirror His names and attributes. His is unique Qur’anic philosophy which endeavors to capture the very essence of being while remaining informed by the Qur’anic outlook. According to Nursi, those steeped in philosophy alone “consciously walk along dead end streets or through such labyrinths wherein finding the way becomes increasingly difficult” (Unal 2007, 66). In his sight, philosophy unaided by revelatory truths is too vague, convoluted, and idiosyncratic. As for his Qur’anic approach, it flaunts realism and objectivity. Based on centuries-old Islamic tradition, it proffers criteria that can be easily practiced. Finally, based on its notion of humans as the best pattern of God’s creation, the Scripture-based philosophy of Nursi envisages open-mindedness to other worldviews and is intrinsically inclusive—something that should be celebrated in our divided contemporary world.

References

• al-Ansari, Farid. Miftāḥ al-Nūr fī Mafāhīm Rasā’il al-Nūr (Miknas: Jami‘at al-Sulṭān al-Mawlā Ismā‘īl), 253, Kindle.
• “Are You Humanist?” American Humanist Association, http:///americanhumanist .org (accessed on Nov 19, 2019).
• Coruh, Hakan. “Bediuzzaman Said Nursi and his understanding of exegesis in his Risale-i-Nur,” (PhD diss., Australian Catholic University, 2015), 11, ACU Research Bank.
• Markham, Ian. “Truth and Toleration: The Said Nursi Achievement,” in Bringing Faith, Meaning & Peace to Life in a Multicultural World: The Risale-i Nur Approach (Istanbul: Nesil, 2004), 18.
• Ingrid Mattson, The Story of the Qur’an: Its History and Place in Muslim Life, (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 249.
• Michel, Thomas. “Muslim-Christian Dialogue and Cooperation in the Thought of Bediuzzaman Said Nursi,” in Said Nursi’s Views on Muslim-Christian Understanding, ed. Shukran Vahide (Istanbul: Soz Basim Yayin, 2005a), 36.
• Michel, Thomas. “Nursi’s View of Tolerance, Engagement with the Other, and the Future of Dialogue,” in Said Nursi’s Views on Muslim-Christian Understanding, ed. Shukran Vahide (Istanbul: Soz Basim Yayin, 2005b), 20.
• Muhsin, “‘Abd al-Hamid. The Theory of Knowledge in the Qur’an according to the Risale-i Nur,” in A Contemporary Approach to Understanding the Qur’an. The Example of the Risale-i Nur, ed. Abdullah Varlik (Istanbul: Sozler Publications, 2004), 404.
• Nursi, Bediuzzaman Said. The Words: On the Nature and Purposes of Man, Life, and All Things, (Istanbul: Sozler Publications) 2008, 296.
• Nursi, Bediuzzaman Said. “Ishārāt al-I‘jāz fī Maẓann al-Ijāz,” in Kulliyat Rasa’il al-Nur 5, trans. Ihsan Qasim al-Salih (Beirut: Nur, 1994), 23.
• Risale-i Nur Enstitusu, “’Her Sey O’ Mudur, Yoksa ‘Her Sey O’ndan’ Midir?” Sorularla Said Nursi, http://www.sorularlasaidnursi.com/her-sey-o-mudur-yoksa-her-sey-ondan-midir (accessed on Nov 19, 2019).
• Unal, Ali. Islamic Perspectives on Science: Knowledge and Responsibility (New Jersey: Light), 2007, 51.
• Unal, Ali. “Kant, Scheler and Bediuzzaman on Man,” Fountain Magazine 24, no. 4 (October-December 1998), https://fountainmagazine.com/1998/issue-24-october-december-1998/kant-scheler-and-bediuzzaman-on-man (accessed on Nov 17, 2019).

Kalam Cosmological Arguments of Huduth and Imkan in light of Modern Scientific Discoveries

Humankind has grappled with the questions surrounding God, life, and creation for as long as we can remember (Gülen 2006, 3-4). Historically, philosophers and theologians have sought to produce systematic and rigorous arguments to rationally prove the existence of the Divine through the means of logical deduction (Gök 2018, 10). One such argument that has been synthesized is that of the kalam (the Islamic theology), a cosmological argument which has provided a historical and modern basis for those seeking to validate the existence of God (Gök 2018, 10-13). This argument has come under particular examination in contemporary circles where modern scientific discoveries are seen to both challenge, and support, the existence of God and hence establish a valid basis upon which to argue either case. This essay will thus seek to discuss the validity of the kalam cosmological argument, and its subsets, in relation to two modern scientific discoveries: the Big Bang theory, and the concept of virtual particles.

The kalam cosmological argument consists of two subset arguments: the huduth (cosmological) argument and the imkan (contingency) argument (Craig & Moreland 2009, 101-102). Historically, notable Muslim theologians, such as Imam Al-Ghazali, utilized this argument as a testament to the proof of God’s existence (Copan & Craig 2017, 5-7). Within the modern Western philosophical and theological context, this theory has been refined by the works of William Lane Craig (Waters 2015). Regarding the huduth (cosmological) argument, Craig summarised the premise of the argument as follows: the universe either had, or did not have, a beginning; if the universe had a beginning then it was either caused or not caused; if there was a cause then this was because of an external and powerful being (Doko 2018). As can be inferred, the argument is based on a question of origins, causality, and in regard to the two preceding arguments, validating that the cause of the universe is external.

In assessing the validity of the huduth argument, the Big Bang theory can be utilized. In modern science, the Big Bang theory has been established as the leading paradigm for the origins of the universe (Paulson et al, 2015). The theory purports that the universe, and all that is contained within it, had a singular starting point whereby from this singularity, the universe has been inflating for what has been calculated as 13.8 billion years (Gonzalo 2008, 207-240). The first premise of the huduth argument is one of origins. The Big Bang postulates that the universe was derived from a singular starting point, with the key being that it indeed had a starting point. Scientists have been able to calculate the age of the universe through utilising data obtained through calculation and observation (Paulson et al, 2-3). In knowing that the universe has an age, and therefore a beginning, one can thus logically deduce that it must have had a point of origin. This complies with the first component of the huduth argument in that the universe indeed must have had a “beginning,” thus validating the first premise.

The Big Bang theory also complies with the second premise of causality. It is accepted by scientists and philosophers alike that in order for an effect to manifest itself within the natural world, there must be a cause to bring about the effect (Rabins 2013, 6-25). Upon accepting the first premise that the universe had a beginning, the universe itself must, therefore, be the manifestation or effect of a preceding cause. Though models such as Stephen Hawking’s “no-boundary-proposal” have been theorized to provide contradictory explanations for the causation of the universe, these have been later disproven by physicists (Wolchover 2019). In this regard, the notion that the universe came into existence without a cause is not logical, thus validating the second premise of the huduth argument.

The last premise argues that once it is accepted that the universe has a cause then this cause must be an external, all-powerful being. Studies into the observed universe are based largely on natural laws and observations that are measurable (Paulson et al, 2-3). Any cause beyond these natural laws of the known universe would thus be “unnatural” and potentially Divine (Ergi 2015). Though the multiverse theory has been proposed as an alternative to a transcendent, external being, the fact still remains that there logically must have been a first universe with an external cause that would then cause the proceeding universes that follow. As such, the third premise of the huduth argument proves itself to be valid, thus validating the argument as a whole.

In addition to the Big Bang, the theory of virtual particles can be used to attest to the validity of the huduth argument. Virtual particles are quantum fluctuations that shift between observed existence and non-existence (Daywitt 2009, 27-28). Historically thought to be empty and full of “nothing,” the vacuum of space has been theorised to contain these finite particles [16]. Through calculation, virtual particles come into existence with a measurable beginning and not out of what appears to be nothing (Jaeger 2009, 144). Physicists have conceived that the particles themselves are in fact not independent, rather that they rely on other quantum interactions and certain laws of physics in order to manifest (Falkenburg 2007, 258-260). In this regard, they have a beginning point of origin. As such, they can be seen to comply with the first premise of the huduth argument. Though virtual particles do appear to come in-and-out of existence there are a number of causal factors that must provide the right conditions for their appearance such as the vacuum-like conditions of interstellar space, the interactions of surrounding “real” particles as well as the mass of these “real” particles (Falkenburg 2007, 58). It is thus perceivable that the particles are caused by several factors and do not come into existence out of non-existence without a cause which adheres to the second premise. The third premise of the huduth argument points to an external cause or creator. As was argued above, virtual particles have a cause and this cause is external to themselves. They cannot create themselves from nothingness and manifest due to the interactions of the real particles around them, which give rise to conditions that are conducive to their appearance. As such, this complies with the logic of the third premise of the huduth argument, as virtual particles require external causes in order to come into existence. Thus, the validity of the huduth argument holds firm when applied to this concept.  

The example of the Big Bang Theory and the concept of virtual particles can also be used when assessing the validity of the imkan (contingency) argument. This argument posits that everything that exists is either necessary or contingent (Ergi, 9). When classified as contingent, it is postulated that something can either exist or not exist, and that if it does exist then this existence is dependent upon factors that are external to it (Gülen 2006, 3-4). The idea that creations within the known universe are contingent is logical, as it can be deemed that nothing exists without a cause (Doko 3-4). In this regard, it is possible to say that contingent items within the universe, including the universe itself, are dependent upon that which is “necessary” and outside of themselves (Yaran 2003, 181-187). The Big Bang Theory provides a solid basis on which to assess the validity of the imkan argument. Everything within the universe originated from that moment, thus the universe is perceivable as having temporal existence (Walles 2016). In being a temporal entity, it is thus contingent on a cause that is external to itself. It would seem illogical that time, space, energy, and matter created themselves as they are contingent elements devoid of consciousness and reliant on physical laws hence would not have been able to exist beyond the Big Bang prior to it occurring. As such, the universe, being contingent and unable to necessitate its own existence, must have been created by a necessary agent. Though this necessary agent has been speculated to be a preceding universe, such as in the multiverse theory, this would propel reality into an infinite regress, a chain of causes contingent on the one before it, a notion deemed to be implausible (Yaran, 181-183). Accordingly, these multiverses would also have to be temporal in disposition and hence the same issue of an eventual point of origin manifests. The logical conclusion is thus that the necessary agent must exist beyond what is known, namely a transcendent being that is beyond temporality and materiality, and thus the logic of the imkan argument is valid.

This principle is similarly seen within the example of virtual particles. These particles are observed to come in-an-out of existence within the vacuum of space (Jaeger, 144). However, this activity is contingent upon necessary conditions, such as the existence of the vacuum itself, quantum interactions based upon the uncertainty principle, as well as surrounding real particles (Greene, 424-425). If any of the aforementioned factors were not present then the existence of virtual particle would only be a probable outcome and not a necessary outcome, similar to that of the universe, in a way that these particles do not necessitate their own existence and are dependent on an external and necessary cause. In this regard, the concept of virtual particles demonstrates the validity in the logic of the imkan argument thus demonstrating the validity of the kalam cosmological argument.

The success of whether an argument is logically valid can be assessed based on the plausibility of the premise presented by the argument (Doko, 4). As is evident, the kalam cosmological argument has been examined with a discussion of its two subset arguments. These arguments have been contrasted against the two scientific discoveries of the Big Bang Theory as well as the concept of virtual particles. Evidently, by its very nature, the kalam cosmological argument is based on sound deductive logic where both its branches contain premises that reach their respective conclusions using logic and rationality. As such, the kalam cosmological argument proves itself to be valid and this has been exemplified by superimposing the matrix of this argument onto real, modern-day scientific discoveries.

REFERENCES

• Copan, Paul and Craig, William Lane. The Kalam Cosmological Argument: Philosophical Arguments for the Finitude of the Past. New York: Bloomsbury, 2017. https://books.google.com.au/books?id=LtI2DwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=The+Kalam+Cosmological+Argument:+Philosophical+Arguments+for+the+Finitude+of+the+Past&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjuxfDOt5fpAhU4lEsFHePeBNIQ6AEIKDAA#v=onepage&q&f=false
• Craig, William Lane and Moreland, James Porter. The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology. West Sussex: Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 2009. https://www.difa3iat.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/William_Lane_Craig__J._P._Moreland_The_BlackwellBookZZ.org_.pdf
• Daywitt, William. “The Source of the Quantum Vacuum.” Progress in Physics 2, 1 (2009): 27-28, http://www.ptep-online.com/.
• Doko, Enis. “Kalam Cosmological Argument and the Modern Science.” Kader 16, 1 (2018): 3, doi: 10.18317/kaderdergi.417640.
• Ergi, Omer Atilla. 2015. Is it Possible to Conclusively Prove the Existence of God? Melbourne: Centre for Islamic Studies and Civilization Charles Stuart University
• Falkenburg, Birgitte. Particle Metaphysics: A Critical Account of Subatomic Reality. Berlin: Springer, 2007.https://books.google.com.au/books?id=EbOz5I9RNrYC&printsec=frontcover&dq=Particle+Metaphysics:+A+Critical+Account+of+Subatomic+Reality&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj7lt3f8JbpAhWKc30KHbIcDNwQ6AEIKDAA#v=onepage&q&f=false
• Gok, Hakan. Atheism or Theism? The Perspective of Said Nursi. Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock, 2018.
• Gonzalo, Julio. The intelligible universe: an overview of the last thirteen billion years. Singapore: World Scientific Publishing Co., 2008. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/csuau/reader.action?docID=1193384&ppg=222
• Greene, Brian. The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory Surrey: Vintage, 2000.
• Gulen, Fethullah. The Essentials of the Islamic Faith. Sommerset, New Jersey: The Light Inc., 2006.
• Jaeger, Gregg. “Are Virtual Particles Less Real?. ” Entropy 21, 2 (2009): 144, doi: 10.3390/e2102014.
• Paulson, Steve., Albert, David., Holt, Jim and Turok, Neil. “The origins of the universe: why there is something rather than nothing?,” Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 13611, 1 (December 2015): 2-17, doi: 10.1111/nyas.12859.
• Rabins, Peter. The Why of Things: Causality in Science, Medicine and Life. New York: Columbia University Press, 2013. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/csuau/reader.action?docID=1103422
• Walles, Mathew. “The Existence of God- According to Muslim Theologians and Thinkers.” Fountain Magazine, 1 May, 2016. https://fountainmagazine.com/2016/issue-111-may-june-2016/the-existence-of-god-according-to-muslim-theologians-and-thinker
• Waters, Benjamin Victor. “Toward a new kalam cosmological argument.” Cogent Arts and Humanities 2, 1 (2015): 2, doi: 10.1080/23311983.2015.1062461.
• Wolchover, Natalie. “Physicists Debate Hawking’s Idea That the Universe Had No Beginning.” Quantamagazine, Jun 6, 2019. https://www.quantamagazine.org/physicists-debate-hawkings-idea-that-the-universe-had-no-beginning-20190606/.
• Yaran, Cafer S. Islamic Thought on the Existence of God. Washington: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, 2003. https://fountainmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/IIA-16-Contents-4f8.pdf

Hizmet’s activities can be classified into four categories: business associations, interfaith/intercultural dialogue activities, education,[1] and relief work.[2] Its interfaith/intercultural dialogue activities provide safe zones where peoples of different backgrounds can come together and engage in friendly conversations in a peaceful atmosphere. Such meetings create constructive relationships and social capital.

The movement’s educational and relief work also engender dialogue, although indirectly. They have often helped communities who have historically had strained relationships come together under the tree of knowledge.

Hizmet pioneered dialogue activities in Turkey in the 1980s. This allowed different communities to search for solutions to common problems. When the movement spread worldwide in the 1990s, its dialogue activities reached beyond just the Turkish context and encompassed all major faiths and cultures.

With the growth of militant extremism dominating the international discourse about Muslims, Hizmet became a major moderate voice, condemning extremism and embodying Islam’s peaceful face.[3] It presents an alternative vision for Muslims, in stark contrast with the reactionary political Islamist movements. Hizmet encourages Muslims to peacefully but actively engage in all walks of life and with all types of people.

Fethullah Gülen, the key figure whose ideas have inspired the movement, “regards dialogue as an activity of forming a bond between two or more parties.” He also “specifies the humanitarian approach to dialogue, which manifests itself with tolerance and various tolerance-based concepts such as love, compassion, forgiveness, and humility” (Kim 2015, 35).

Kim has also called Gülen’s approach to dialogue “dialogic Sufism,” a reactivation of the Turkish Sufi tradition, one that has been specifically adapted for the contemporary world. “Dialogic Sufism opposes a dialectical approach to humanity which assumes an opposing and conflicting relationship between self and others,” Kim wrote (2015, 36). He adds that this approach is in contrast with the reactionary nature of political Islam: “Instead, it [Hizmet] interacts with any challenging condition and context to build a dialogical bridge between the past and the present, the East and the West, rationalism/materialism and spiritualism, and between different civilizations, religions and cultures, obliterating difference and distinctions between ‘[the] self and others’” (Kim 2015, 37).

Gülen has traced the idea of dialogue back to basic Islamic themes. Accordingly, he takes the “basmala,” the beginning of almost every chapter of the Qur’an, as a point of departure. The basmala is a recitation of God’s attributes, “the Compassionate and the Merciful.” According to Gülen, the recurrence of this phrase in the Qur’an is an indication “God wanted to teach Muslims, among other things, to be compassionate and merciful in their relations with their fellow human beings, and with nature” (Saritoprak and Griffith 2005, 333).

Furthermore, Gülen has been inspired by the writings of Ahmed Faruqi Sirhindi (1564-1624), an Indian Sufi, who introduced the concept of loving friendship (khillah) and that each believer is to cultivate a spiritual friendship with all those who profess the faith of Abraham, both Muslims or non-Muslims (Saritoprak and Griffith 2005). Referring to love in the Sufi tradition, Gülen emphasizes one of the “beautiful names” of God, “al-Wadud,” or the Beloved One, and asserts that Muslims are expected to reflect this attribute in their lives by being a people of love. Gülen has found the roots of these themes in the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad, quoting the hadith, “Whoever is humble, God exalts him; whoever is haughty, God humiliates him” (Saritoprak and Griffith 2005, 334). To Gülen, this idea is the heart of Islamic ethics. It is also the basis for interreligious dialogue, and he sees dialogue as the natural result of the practice of Islamic ethics. Humility leads to peace through dialogue, not violence through conflict.

According to Gülen, the Qur’anic verse 3:64, revealed in the ninth year of the Hijra (629 CE), represents one of the greatest ecumenical calls of Prophet Muhammad’s time and clearly indicates that Muslims are expected to treat People of the Book with respect and tolerance (Webb 2015; Saritoprak and Griffith 2005):

Tell them: ‘O people of the Book, let us come to an agreement on that which is common between us, that we worship no one but God, and make none his compeer, and that none of us take any others for Lord apart from God.’ If they turn away, you tell them: ‘Bear witness that we submit to Him’ (Al-Imran 3:64).

According to Esposito and Yılmaz (2010, 162), Gülen’s teachings are based on Turkish Islamic tradition inspired by Sufi figures like the poet and theologian Rumi (1207-1273) and the Ottoman Empire’s religious tolerance, as exemplified in the Empire’s community self-governance (also known as the millet system). In this respect, Saritoprak and Griffith (2005, 330) assert, “[t]he Ottoman Empire presented a great example of the Islamic understanding of tolerance towards non-Muslim subjects, in particular, the People of the Book. In our contemporary world, the issue has become even more relevant because of a tremendous need for interfaith dialogue and understanding.”

They argue that Gülen’s interfaith approach, in turn, is rooted in three Islamic principles: “a history of revelation and prophecy, the commonalities among faiths, and the Qur’an’s explicit sanction of interfaith dialogue” (Esposito and Yılmaz 2010, 162). The following paragraphs will present details of each of these, tracing them in Gülen’s writings.

First, Gülen’s commitment to interfaith dialogue emanates from his inclusive and singular approach to religion, in which Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, particularly – and even the non-Abrahamic religions of Hinduism and Buddhism – accept the same theistic source.[4]

Accordingly, a spiral understanding of history and religion in Gülen’s thought generates this approach, in which the universal principle of God’s existence is reaffirmed by messengers and revelations. “The divine revelation and prophecy establish both an axis for religious unity and a framework for religious diversity” (Esposito and Yılmaz 2010, 163). Since the Qur’an declares in verse 40:78 that God sent many prophets and the hadith tradition specifies their number as 124,000 messengers, Gülen is able to argue that the universality of religion is reflected by any religion, to a varying degree, and that all major religions are based on the shared divine revelation (Esposito and Yılmaz 2010).

Supporting his inclusive approach to religion and interfaith dialogue, Gülen draws parallels between the similarity of different religious teachings (Esposito and Yılmaz 2010). In this regard, he states that religions pursue the same universal goals. He also reiterates their shared source and emphasizes the commonality in generally accepted values across different religions, indicating the divine presence in all religions[5]:

The goal of dialogue among world religions is not simply to destroy scientific materialism and the destructive materialistic worldview; rather, the very nature of religion demands this dialogue. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and even Hinduism and other world religions accept the same source for themselves, and, including Buddhism, pursue the same goal. As a Muslim, I accept all Prophets and Books sent to different peoples throughout history, and regard belief in them as an essential principle of being Muslim. A Muslim is a true follower of Abraham, Moses, David, Jesus, and all other Prophets. Not believing in one Prophet or Book means that one is not a Muslim. Thus we acknowledge the oneness and basic unity of religion, which is a symphony of God’s blessings and mercy, and the universality of belief in religion. So, religion is a system of belief embracing all races and all beliefs, a road bringing everyone together in brotherhood.

Regardless of how their adherents implement their faith in their daily lives, such generally accepted values as love, respect, tolerance, forgiveness, mercy, human rights, peace, brotherhood, and freedom [are] exalted by religion. Most of them are accorded the highest precedence in the messages brought by Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad, as well as in the messages of Buddha and even Zarathustra, Lao-Tzu, Confucius, and the Hindu prophets.

Lastly, Gülen believes in the Qur’an’s universal call for dialogue, though it primarily targets the Abrahamic religions and forms the first pillar of interfaith dialogue (Esposito and Yılmaz 2010). Verse 3:64 from the Qur’an is one example that Gülen quotes[6]: “O People of the Book, come to a word common between us and you, that we worship none but God, and associate none as partner with Him, and that none of us take others for Lords, apart from God.”

Gülen also emphasizes verses 2:3 and 2:4, which require Muslims to believe in scriptures that were sent to previous prophets as well as the Prophet of Islam (“…who believe in what is sent to you and what was sent before you”)[7]. Accordingly, by establishing the belief in earlier prophets and revelations, Islam lays out the foundation for interfaith dialogue. Further, based on verse 29:46, “And discuss you not with the People of the Book, except with means better (than mere disputation),” Gülen contends that the Qur’an bases that dialogue on finding common points rather than disputing others’ religious beliefs.[8] Yücel (2013), quoting Seker, asserts that “Gülen’s dialogue work is not un-Islamic or something new to Islam, but is rather based on the spirit of the Medina Charter, an agreement drawn up between the Muslims and non-Muslims (Jews and pagans) in Medina that granted rights and respect towards non-Muslims.” Seker adds that Gülen also draws from the spirit of the final sermon of Prophet Muhammad (Yücel 2013, 204).

According to Webb (2015), for Gülen, being human is sufficient enough to earn respect. Webb (2015, 16), in this respect, points to Gülen’s use of the hadith to justify his universalistic principle:

[The Prophet] one day stood up as a Jewish funeral was passing by. One of the Companions at his side said, ‘O Messenger of God, that’s a Jew.’ Without any change in attitude or alteration of the lines on his face, the Prince of Prophets gave this answer: ‘But he is a human being!’

In this respect, by pointing to enlarging the circle of Hizmet from the Abrahamic faiths to include religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sikhism on the basis of human-brotherhood, Erol (2012) asserts, “the Gülen movement is eager to create further bonds just because they are human beings regardless of their faith, colour, language, culture or ethnic background. It is simply implementing the aforementioned famous saying of Yunus Emre: ‘We love the created because of the Creator.’”[9]

According to Kim (2015, 39), “[i]n Gülen’s diagnosis, most of the problems that contemporary human beings face result from the loss of true humanism, which causes and appears with widespread hatred and enmity,” and “Gülen is convinced that the only way to disentangle the real and critical danger to human beings is to revitalize humanism by means of love and tolerance.” Hizmet means “service to humanity,” and based on Gülen’s philosophy, “the real path of Sufis is to seek their spiritual progress in the happiness of others by living for others. This exemplifies what hizmet is” (Kim 2015, 38). Similarly, Al-Mabuk (2015, 29) contends that in Gülen’s thought, “forgiveness holds the promise to transform hostility, resentment and hatred into peace, love and harmony among individuals and societies.”

Yücel (2013), on the other hand, links Gülen’s dialogue efforts to Said Nursi (1877-1960), an influential Ottoman-Kurdish Islamic scholar and activist. Gülen is an ardent follower of Nursi, who initiated the idea of dialogue in his Damascus sermon in 1911[10]: “Said Nursi proposed dialogue and collaboration between Muslims and Christians before a congregation of over 10,000 Muslims, including 100 prominent religious scholars, in the Umayyad Mosque, Damascus” (Yücel 2013, 197). Nursi believed in this cooperation against materialism, which he saw as the source of the international aggression of his time; to him, greed, driven by materialism, causes the major conflicts that lead to destruction on a worldwide scale. Nursi suggested that Muslims and Christians should cooperate against common threats, including poverty, ignorance, and enmity between peoples. According to Valkenburg (2015, 53), “[i]t can be found in Nursi’s Damascus sermon and in some parts of his Risale-i Nur as well, where Nursi showed that negative approaches to people of other religions in the Qur’an usually apply to specific situations only, whilst the more positive evaluations of others have a more universal value. Something similar can be said about the quotation about loving good deeds and detesting bad deeds, since in the same Damascus sermon from 1911, Said Nursi stated that ‘the thing most worthy of love is love, and that most deserving of enmity is enmity.’”

According to Yücel (2013, 200), “Gülen has two aims for interfaith and intercultural dialogue. Firstly, he seeks a world in which civilisations do not clash. Secondly, he pictures a world where religious, cultural and linguistic differences are not denied or repressed, but rather expressed freely in the form of a civilisation of love. He dreams of a world without conflict and enmity. In such a world, people avoid hurting or annoying each other.”

References

• Al-Mabuk, Radhi H. 2015. “Fethullah Gülen’s Perspectives on Forgiveness.” Hizmet Studies Review. 2(2): 21-31.
• Barton, Greg. 2014. “How Hizmet Works: Islam, Dialogue and the Gülen Movement in Australia.” Hizmet Studies Review. 1(1): 9-25.
• Kim, Heon C. 2015. “Sufism and Dialogue in the Hizmet Movement.” Hizmet Studies Review. 2(2): 33-49.
• Saritoprak, Zeki, and Sidney Griffith. 2005. “Fethullah Gülen and the People of the Book: A Voice from Turkey for Interfaith Dialogue.” The Muslim World. 95(3): 329–40.
• Webb, M. O. 2015. “Fethullah Gülen’s Use of Philosophical and Scriptural Resources for Tolerance.” Hizmet Studies Review. 2(2): 9-18.
• Yilmaz I and Esposito JL. 2010. Islam and Peacebuilding: Gülen Movement Initiatives. New York: Blue Dome Press.
• Yücel, S. 2013. “Muslim-Christian Dialogue: Nostra Aetate and Fethullah Gülen’s Philosophy of Dialogue.” Australian e-Journal of Theology, 20(3).

[1] http://gulenschools.org/

[2] http://embracerelief.org/

[3] http://rumiforum.org/gulen-condem-isis-new-york-times-washington-post/

[4] http://en.fgulen.com/questions-and-answers/599-what-is-the-role-of-prophethood-and-of-prophets

(Accessed July 5, 2015).

[5] http://en.fgulen.com/about-fethullah-gulen/251-fethullah-gulens-speeches-and-interviews-on-interfaith-dialogue/1334-introduction

(Accessed July 5, 2015).

[6] http://en.fgulen.com/reflections-on-the-quran/4286-al-imran-3-64

(Accessed July 5, 2015).

[7] http://en.fgulen.com/conference-papers/peaceful-coexistence/2486-sacred-scriptures-and-interfaith-dialogue

(Accessed July 5, 2015).

[8] http://en.fgulen.com/conference-papers/peaceful-coexistence/2512-gulens-paradigm-on-peaceful-coexistence-theoretical-insights-and-some-practical-perspectives

(Accessed July 5, 2015).

[9] http://www.fethullahgulenforum.org/articles/32/the-contribution-fethullah-gulen-on-christian-muslim-relations

[10] http://www.saidnur.com/foreign/en/risaleler/sermon1.htm

Multiple factors shape thought, but communication is especially heavy-handed. Communication not only restructures the contents of the mind,; it re-configures the brain’s very neurological patterns (Rotman 2008: 51-52). Brian Rotman explains four ways people communicate selfhood: self-pointing, a spoken “I,” an alphabetically written “I,” and “self-enunciation within contemporary media” (Rotman 2008: xxxiii). The written “I” is the only disembodied method, but this separation subliminally trickles beneath conscious awareness. Writing has been a major component of communicating theological concepts because writing has been the easiest form of mass communication for centuries. Theologians 1,000 years ago probably did not ponder the disembodiment of writing any more than landing spaceships on the moon. Television – which mediates communication through bodies – was not on their radar. But contemporary theologians have options. Gunther Kress is clear that, “The former constellation of medium of book and mode of writing is giving way… to the new constellation of medium of screen and mode of image” (Kress 2003: 9). These moving constellations have forced a fundamental shift in the way social brains engage thought. Theology that fails to take this into account will find itself hopelessly outmoded and no longer equipped to engage the study of God in fresh situations.

This article addresses the cognitive and neurological effects stemming from shifts in “culturally mediated systems of external memory” (Rotman 52) – such as writing and images – and how theological communication could expand in response. Writing reinforces left-brain, systematic, and linear thought (Armstrong 1995: 115). Images, on the other hand, encourage more right-brain, intuitive, and spatial reasoning. It would be simplistic to hold that writing is only mediated through the right hemisphere and images only through the left, but communicative modes create lateral biases. Theological minds emerge, – not only from the “linear, logical, detail-oriented left hemisphere”, – but from embodied, whole brains. The first section of this paper shows writing’s left-brain bias. The second section turns a corner by examining emotion as altered body states and how this leads to a right-brain bias. Visual mediums are the most direct way to communicate right-brain thoughts, so the last step is to show how visual mediums could add a holistic, embodied element to theology.

WRITING AND A DISEMBODIED, LEFT-BRAIN BIAS

Writing forces neurons to march in line with time (Kress 2003: 2). The left hemisphere attributes meaning to words and strings those words together to form sentences, paragraphs, and full discourses (Hogue 2003: 87). In a sentence, one… word… follows… another, so the brain follows a preset “reading path” (Kress 2003: 3). A dog bit Karen means something entirely different than Karen bit a dog. Reading paths necessitate choices about which words make the most sense in which temporal order (Kress 2003: 3), so writing creates “the subliminal appeal of reducing wholes to constituent parts” (Jahandarie 1999: 57-58). It entrenches linear (temporal) neurological patterns through the repetitive, reductive decision-making (Jahandarie 1999: 54).

This leads to what could be called: alphabetic reasoning. Daniel Siegel explains that the left hemisphere is responsible for “more slowly acting, linear, sequentially active, temporal (time-dependent) processes. Verbal meanings of words… are a primary mode of processing for the left side” (Siegel 2001: 179). The left-brain deals in “monosemantic ‘packets’… which are then processed in a slower, linear mode” (Siegel 179). Writing strengthens linear thought patterns in the left hemisphere. Siegel holds that, “Repeated activation of specific neuronal pathways reinforces the strength of connections between groups of neurons” (p. 194), so neurons fire in similar patterns in the future (p. 24). The brain functions like a malleable muscle, but writing only exercises the left-brain. The brain is sculpted like a bodybuilder who only lifts with one arm. That arm ripples, but the other atrophies. Plastic makes perfect.

The “linear, logical,” and “linguistically-based” left-hemisphere (p. 161) evaluates the contents of written words through syllogistic reasoning (p. 197), prejudicing the brain to evaluate their contents through the brain’s semantic operator. The semantic operator deals with “propositional representations – symbols of external or internal facts that can be… assessed as ‘true’ or ‘false’” (p. 35 [emphasis mine]). In alphabetic reasoning, ideas are filtered into categories of: right or wrong, – fact or fiction. Then, alphabetic reasoning reinforces the brain’s quest for causation through sequencing. Reading paths communicate meaning through cause-effect relationships, so the ensuing left-brain thought patterns in the semantic operator create a syllogistic lens. Wholes are eliminated in the effort to snap details into linear, cause-effect relationships. Meaning is confined to these necessary but limited ways of processing information.

THEOLOGY AND LEFT-BRAIN BIAS

As writing has become increasingly more accessible in punctuated bursts over the past few millennia, theologians have become more and more linear and syllogistic in thought. But neurons fire in strikingly complex and highly plastic patterns (Bennett and Hacker 2008: 137). Linear rules for systematic theology are only engrained through repetition. The dark side of alphabetic reasoning is that it can produce theologians who tend to exercise linearity while alternative methods atrophy. Recall that the semantic operator can only qualify concepts as right or wrong. Linear patterns do not leave cognitive space for multiple details to be processed simultaneously. In the study of God, this cognitive capacity is absolutely necessary.

So far, I have examined several important consequences of alphabetic writing: it is inherently linear; in committing to using particular words in particular sequences it automatically eliminates other options; it coerces thought into cause-effect analysis, and it externalizes, or disembodies, thought. Of these consequences, the disembodied nature of theological writing is the most problematic.

EMOTION AS ALTERED BODY STATES

Emotions are physiological changes in a person’s body. These are mediated through combinations of gestures, postures, and behaviors (Damasio 2003: 63). External images – or stimuli – are mediated to the brain through the senses, and internal body and brain states refract the external world (Damasio 195). Marshall McLuhan writes, “The use of any medium or extension of hu/man/ity alters the patterns of interdependence among people, as it alters the ratios among our senses” (Jahandarie 51). The higher cognitive processes involved in developing theological concepts are pushed and pulled by the body’s constant emoting (Siegel 143).

The signals passing in and out of bodies generate emotion, so change signals can make emotions contagious (Siegel 143, 50). Siegel explains that, “Complex neural/bodily aspects of emotional processes are not easily translated into words. Nonverbal expressions, including those of the face, tone of voice and gestures, can transfer information about internal states more fully to the outside world than words can do” (Siegel 150). When it comes to altering the emotions correlated with belief – belief that can override higher cognitive functions – bodily gesture trumps writing.

Because this emotional processing is primarily non-conscious, people do not qualify intuition as true or false by sequencing details into rational arguments. For example, anger is typified by “dilated pupils, widened orbital area, raised eyebrows, furrowed brow, and pursed lips” (Siegel 128). The brain absorbs all of these signals at once when someone unexpectedly sees this:

Through non-conscious processing, faces can change emotions and minds in a flash.

Intuition of other people’s emotions occurs within the Mirror Neuron System (MNS). This system draws most heavily from facial expressions (Siegel 290), and it tells the viewer’s brain to respond to the viewed face in kind (Siegel 129). The MNS non-consciously indicates: whatever is happening in that person is also happening in me. This is why people constantly imitate the “motor acts, postures, and gaze of their co-citizens” (Kanwisher and Duncan 2004: 463-64). When people talk, their body language loops without their awareness as emotions harmonize. Yawning becomes contagious. When the MNS causes altered body states and facial expressions, people influence each other’s emotional-cognitive looping, and thought itself is steered.

There is scientific evidence that the entire body is engaged in understanding and remembering. James McGaugh demonstrated that the Vagus nerve – which connects the brain stem to the stomach – directly unites visceral and emotional experience with mental processing. McGaugh presented subjects with two stories containing similar amounts of data. One story had high emotional content and the other had low emotional content. People with functioning Vagus nerves recalled more data from the stories with high emotional content than from the stories with low emotional content. People with damaged Vagus nerves had identical recall from both stories. This suggests that certain types of thought are crippled by the absence of full-bodied emotion. Siegel explains that, “conceptual representations are nonverbal. They form the fundamental building blocks of our thoughts, beliefs, intentions, and aspects of our explicit memories” (Damasio 167). Written theological method is often left wanting embodied communication to close the cognitive loop.

EMBODIED COMMUNICATION AND RIGHT-BRAIN BIAS

The body’s indicators of emotion – somatic markers¬ – interface with the right hemisphere more than the left (Damasio 144, 82). The right-brain simultaneously correlates multiple details rather than sequencing them in cause-effect relationships. Siegel describes how the right-brain deals with nonverbal communications through “fast-acting, parallel (simultaneously active), holistic processes” (Damasio 179). This means that the right-brain is the default processor of metaphor and paradox. Imagistic representations in the mind do not force choice, categorization, or analysis. They exist simultaneously without being truncated by “top-down” processing as emotions ebb and flow (Siegel 165).

Kress calls this type of right-brain embodied thought “spatial reasoning,” and he places it in opposition to the “temporal reasoning” sublimated by alphabetic thought (Kress 45). Spatial reasoning portrays multiple details simultaneously, so spatial reasoning is correlational rather than sequential. This opens up possibilities for theologians by beginning with building blocks of thought before they are sequenced into categories of justified and true, fact or fiction.

The right-brain is functionally nonverbal, so its contents have to be externalized in “non-word-based ways, such as drawing a picture or pointing to a pictorial set of options” (Siegel 327). Alternative mediums, such as video and visual art, could generate entirely new forms of theological thought.

MEDIA’S ROLE IN SPATIAL REASONING

Video and visual art are viable possibilities for developing a right-brain, spatial reasoning into theological method. Jahandarie poetically explains, “Electric media are extensions of our central nervous systems and thus put us in touch with the totality of experience” (Jahandarie 99). Jahandarie overstates his case; – for example, video does not communicate through odors, for example, – but his intended meaning is helpful. New technologies make it possible to create right-brain mass communication. The MNS is 80-85% as effective at influencing emotion through video as it is in person (Kanwisher and Duncan 469), so gestures captured on video have a startlingly high ability to steer the emotional side of the cognitive loop. Emotions can be altered and details can be expressed simultaneously if theologians were to use a wider set of cognitive and communicative tools.

Rotman explains that people listen, “not to speech sounds as such… but to the movements of the body causing them; we focus on what happens between the sounds, to the dynamics of their preparatory phases, pauses, holds, accelerations, fallings away, and completions” (Rotman 23). Through the MNS, we get hunches, – not only about what another person is thinking, – but how the person is thinking and feeling. The dynamics of gesture in film add an intuitive, interpretive element to its communicative ability. In split-brain studies, the left-brain cannot even register facial expressions or emotional states (Rotman 151). While the left-brain might be incredible at reading and writing books, it is inept at spatial reasoning. Siegel writes that the left-brain’s “monosemantic ‘packets’” operate through neurological patterns and processes “quite distinct from the analogic representations seen, for example, in an artist’s painting or in a photograph,” so “the right hemisphere more fully ‘sees the world for what it is,’ whereas the left hemisphere must reduce the world much more into mentally defined, often socially constructed chunks of information” (Rotman 179). The right-brain’s holism and simultaneity could be invaluable to theologians, but it is too often dampened by the limitations of past technologies.

WHEN THEOLOGY IS EMBODIED

Siegel mentions the “theory of nonlinear dynamics of complex systems” in regard to personhood (Siegel 7). The firing of every synapse in every thought exponentially complexifies what it means to be human. Perhaps God is not only linear, either. Images are not filtered through the linear critiques applied to writing because they function differently in the brain. This does not make imagistic, spatial reasoning irrational. It makes spatial reasoning non-rational, and theologians desperately need non-rational ways to discuss a nonlinear God. Spatial mediums are not able to comprehensively encapsulate God’s personhood any more than writing, but they could generate new perspectives to better triangulate theological depth in conjunction with it.

In the syllogistic line that runs from rational to irrational, the concept of a trinity is inherently problematic. The semantic operator only deals with logical, sequential coherence, so the multiple, simultaneously existing details involved in conceptualizing the trinity do not get cognitive space. In this case, it might be advantageous to take a right-brain, imagistic approach to theology.

Depictions allow for multiple details to coexist without sequence. Images can be worth far more than 1,000 words. Imagistic reasoning allows space for entire persons to subject themselves to concepts. The “events and actions” lost in writing’s “principles and concepts” could be filled out through images (Jahandarie 17). Instead of only understanding theology in terms of right and wrong, the theologian could also trust a Vagus nerve when it communicates that an image or gesture is good or bad. The details could remain simultaneous in the right-brain without being sorted, and persons could experience theologies to a fuller degree in addition to critically evaluating them.

CONCLUSION

As neurological patterns become more spatial and less linear, theologians have the opportunity to construct new theological paradigms by diversifying their communicative tools. Creating theology through imagistic mediums would be bounded by its own “epistemological commitments,” (Kress 57) though. Critical thought is a crucial element in theological conversations, for example. This suggests that – when used in isolation – either alphabetic or imagistic methods are reductionistic. Theology has to be alphabetic, linear, and critical to be constructive, but it also needs to be imagistic, embodied, and holistic to avoid reductionistic sequencing of nonlinear concepts. The multiple natures of cognition cannot be mixed or separated. Language and experience, left-brain and right-brain thinking, knowledge and belief, are locked into cognitive loops (Eichenbaum and Bodkin 179), and it is impossible to have a one-sided loop.

The advent of new mediums makes the creation of an embodied theological method – complete with shifting neurological patterns – a mandatory opportunity. The next step is to synthesize multimodal theologies with alphabetic reasoning. A critically holistic methodology would emerge as gestalt. Full-blown theological paradigms could materialize if both hemispheres were used in conjunction. However progressive, however gestalt, and however critically holistic theological method becomes, it can never be comprehensive or complete. Theologians must do theology at all times. When necessary, they should use words.

Jonathan Camery-Hoggatt is a freelance writer in Seattle. He has MA in divinity from Princeton Theological Seminary.

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Gulen is deeply and unequivocally Islamic. The first three chapters of the book, by the editors and Mohammed Abu-Nimer, introduce his approach to peacebuilding. They analyze his ideas through various modern lenses as within a tradition from Rumi, Al Ghazali, and Said Nursi, while also showing that the specific approaches he takes to peacebuilding arise from a thorough reading of the contemporary globalized world. Because these approaches are predicated on faith, the initiatives are heuristic. The movement into a caring engagement with the world is a movement of faith, marked by openness to discovery and so by an expectation of change. The object is not simply to change others, but to be changed with others, and so to move into and discover more of the just and caring social condition desired by Allah.

Part 2 takes a closer look at Gulen’s reading of the globalized world and his deliberate transgression of the kinds of borders which are a product of modernism and fail to meet human realities or to orient us to global perspectives. In a fascinating essay, Klas Grinell brings Gulen’s thinking into association with wider, postmodern debates. Borders, he points out, are associated with fixed identities which do not accord with our realities “in the multi-layered present” (68). Accordingly, crossing the border into the territory of the “other” perhaps does not characterize Gulen’s aspiration because it seems to accept existing stereotypes and fails to leave room for the large areas of overlapping territory. Grinell changes the metaphor, seeing Gulen rather as on the border in the sense proposed by the Argentinian Mignolo:

Border thinking . . . is thinking and knowledge produced from the borders of colonial modernity, knowledge that recognizes the colonizing aspects of what has been seen as true knowledge in mainstream modernity, and uses local resources to confront and alter that knowledge in order to know the particularities of life lived in that setting better. (75)

Irina Vainovski-Mihai pursues some of the implications of dialogue, which requires an open awareness of the other. She concludes that “the dialogical approach may transform the experience of the other into an experience of the self” (96). As Karina Korostelina suggests, though, that self embodies the creative tension in a dual identity, between “one component connected to a religious identity and another component that reflects membership in a secular nation” (104). The borders involved are different and shifting, finding resolution in a much more sophisticated and tolerant sense of the self. That, taken with Gulen’s view of globalization outlined by Richard Penaskovic as more than economic and ideological, as referring “to connectivity and interdependence in all areas of life: cultural, ecological, economic, political, religious, social, and technological” (126), makes hostility manifestly problematic and is conducive to peace.

The third part of the book examines Gulen’s theology of dialogue in comparative perspective. Turan Kayaoglu’s informative essay traces the overlapping theologies of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Pope John-Paul II and Fethullah Gulen – theologies which place interfaith dialogue in the context of the core concerns of each faith. The theological leadership of these three major figures “validates, accommodates, and humanizes the ‘other’ in order to open up religious space for interfaith activities and to establish religious grounds to complement humanity’s quest for peace, tolerance, and care for God’s creation” (166). Zeki Saritoprak shows the continuity between Gulen and Ibn Khaldun, the fourteenth century Muslim sociologist, who emphasizes asabiyya or a non-racist, non-nationalist “group solidarity” around key transformative values. Forgiveness, love and compassion are values at the heart of all major religions and are essential to our full humanity. However, in the heat of social tension, they tend to provoke persecution which has to be faced with a patience that involves being true to the self one has discovered through faith. Despite the legal and spiritual persecution and exile Gulen has faced, he concludes “We are going to respect our character… As a believer, I promise that I will never shun any person, and I will not persecute those who have transgressed against me” (184). Approaching the topic from another angle, Douglas Pratt examines the historical “baggage” in Muslim-Jewish-Christian relations and some of the ways in which Gulen seeks to surmount it. I would have welcomed more attention to the persistent discursive patterns that mark that history. However, central to the notion of dialogue is acceptance that the supreme greatness of God cannot be captured in words and that truth blossoms and its implications become clear in an ongoing process of awed interpretation. For People of the Book, “The ‘book’ is ever a text requiring interpretive understanding and application” (203). Felicitously, the final chapter in this section has a strong emphasis on the hermeneutic. David B Capes places the thinking of the American Baptist, A J Conyers in dialogue with Gulen. Conyers critiques “the modern, secular doctrine of tolerance” in attempting to reclaim “the practice of Christian tolerance based upon humility, hospitality and . . . the incarnation” (207). At the same time, he explicitly recognizes the affinities between Christians and those of other faiths, including specifically “the Sufi mystics of Islam,” in this practice (not doctrine) of tolerance (209). Capes concludes with the observation that while Gulen is specific about forgiveness, there seems to be no explicit discussion of it in Conyers. Of course, Gulen’s “the road to forgiveness passes through the act of forgiving” (221) is strikingly resonant with “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” in the Lord’s Prayer. Capes concludes that the difference in the contexts in which the two theologians worked accounts for this apparent gap, implicitly emphasizing the need to interpret contextually.

Part four looks at the practice arising from this rich understanding of Islam. The five sets of initiatives discussed are a sample of the hundreds of innovative Gulen Movement ventures undertaken worldwide. All are undertaken by volunteers who seek to serve in lands or regions faced with conflict and very difficult social adjustment. In Gulen’s words, “Holy people” carry the “new atmosphere, new understandings and dialogue” around the world, creating “islands of peace for stability and harmony” (181). What is most remarkable to me is the humility and rigor with which the volunteers “read” the local situation to determine how best to engage with it.

Modern Cambodia, recovering from more than two decades of traumatic instability, is a striking example. The situation of the minority Cham Muslim group, impoverished, hostile to public education as assimilatory, with religious education usually separated from life needs, and a high level of illiteracy in Khmer, complicates recovery. Philipp Bruckmayr shows Gulen Movement participants supporting Cambodian NGOs which promote “the acquisition of secular knowledge” within the context of faith, and offer practical support to the Chams (234f). The emphasis on “common values rather than differences” is reflected in translation of seminal works on Islam and in cooperation and dialogue with Buddhists (235). More characteristically Gulenian is the Zaman International School of Phnom Penh, which offers excellent secular schooling within a spiritually sensitive context, and has no assimilationist motives (245).

Jonathan Lacey discusses the Turkish Irish Educational and Cultural Society, a Gulenian group in a country with a tiny, fragmented and fractious Islamic minority. It emphasizes dialogue, supports conferences, and shows hospitality in annual iftar dinners during Ramadan, but most strikingly its members accept full, responsible citizenship: “[T]hey have no intention of assimilating, but instead intend to integrate” (263). It is a vital distinction.

The importance of civil society is emphasized by Mehmet Kalyoncu. He looks at the ways in which Turks, Kurds, Arabs and Assyrian Christians have been mobilized by the Gulen Movement in Mardin “to cooperate in tackling their common problems” (275). The Gulenian school there is also a community focus, and helps build civil society organizations. The focus shifts to initiatives in Kenya and the Philippines, again based on schools which bring together the children of parties in conflict, and provide a platform for addressing local needs.

The role of the Gulen Movement in predominantly Muslim South East Asian societies where there is strong sectarianism and a divisive politicization of religion is explored by Mohamed Nawab bin Mohamed Osman. The fact that the volunteers are driven by a sense of duty to serve in places in great need underlines the appropriateness of the Turkish name of the Movement: hizmet or “service to humanity.” The service in Singapore and Indonesia involves dialogue and education with a strong emphasis on honoring and using local customs, as in the Halalbihalal ceremony in Indonesia to bring conflicted groups together in an atmosphere of trust and hospitality.

The final essay by Harun Akyol puts the Movement’s credentials to the acid test in the multiple conflict zone of northern Iraq. Fifteen successful schools and a university have been established to provide a base for thinking and interacting differently.

This book, bringing together key papers from three conferences, offers refreshingly varied, critically nuanced views of Gulen’s thinking and shows the profound impact hizmet has had on particular individuals and societies.

Review by Stanley Ridge

Stanley Ridge is Emeritus Professor of English and retired Pro-Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Western Cape, South Africa.

The Fountain: There are many types of philosophies as well as many traditions in the history of philosophy. Scholars for instance distinguish “ancient philosophy” from “modern philosophy.” So how do you locate “Islamic Philosophy?”

Oliver Leaman (O. L.): Trying to define Islamic philosophy is very tendentious, but then definitions as a whole are a problematic area in philosophy. In my view, Islamic philosophy is not necessarily done by Muslims, nor does it have to deal with religious issues. It is that style of philosophy that developed in the Islamic world roughly around the time of al-Kindi which persists today in what is now the Islamic world and indeed further afield.

The Fountain: If it is a separate tradition, what are its characteristics?

O. L.: I don’t think it has any characteristics that have remained the same over time. For example, today in the Arab world there is a protracted debate by philosophers on the nature of Arab civilization, its links with Islam, and how it relates to other civilizations. That is not a debate that existed in the early centuries of Islamic philosophy at all, but reflects the relatively recent experience of colonialism, the modern concept of the state, contemporary political events and so on. Philosophy like everything else has its fashions, and Islamic philosophy rolls with the times, which is why it still survives.

The Fountain: How do you view the relationship between Islamic philosophy and Islamic theology?

O. L.: Many of the issues that have been discussed by Islamic philosophers are religious, and also relate to the theology of a particular faith, i.e. Islam. It is not always easy to know how to distinguish between philosophy and theology, since both are abstract and conceptual investigations into complex issues. Some of the early thinkers like al-Farabi and Ibn Rushd drew a sharp distinction between philosophy and theology, arguing that philosophy is demonstrative and starts from principles that are themselves provable as true, while religion merely starts with beliefs that are accepted, but need not be true. Even if they are right, though, they agreed that the argument forms followed by both are the same, so a sharp distinction between Islamic philosophy and theology is not likely to be very helpful.

The Fountain: As compared to systematic philosophers such as Aristotle, Descartes, Kant on the one hand, and non-systematic ones such as Nietzsche and Wittgenstein on the other hand, how do you evaluate al-Ghazzali’s position?

O. L.: Al-Ghazali is just as systematic as any other major thinker, albeit one has to take him in relation to each stage of his life and thought, since he changed radically from one time to another. The same could be said of Kant, of course, who had a critical and a pre-critical period, and indeed some have argued a post-critical period also.

The Fountain: Did he engage in a philosophical activity in the “Inconsistencies of Philosophers?”

O. L.: I would classify the Tahafut al-falasifa as philosophical, like most of his works. It not only deals with philosophical topics but attacks them philosophically. Had he been operating theologically only he might have pointed to the beliefs of the philosophers and classified them variously as kufr and bid`a, and so condemned them on religious grounds, but in fact he does not limit himself to this at all, he mentions the theological objections to the philosophical principles and then seeks to refute the latter using the methods of those with whom he is arguing. If that is not philosophy then I don’t know what is.

N.M.: Did Islamic thought influence the Western thought?

O.L.: There is evidence of Islamic philosophy influencing Western thought in the medieval period. We know that the works of Ibn Sina and Ibn Rushd were translated into Latin and played a significant role in France and Italy, for instance, significant enough for Ibn Rushd’s views to be banned in 1270 and 1277 by Bishop Tempier at the University of Paris. Ibn Rushd was interpreted as arguing that philosophy and religion are contrary to each other, but nonetheless are both true, and so we have to accept them both, albeit as valid for different areas of our lives. Philosophy is for us as rational thinkers, and religion for us as social and emotional beings. This hardly presents a very flattering view of the role of religion, and it did not go down well with the Church. The popularity of Ibn Rushd for many centuries gives credence to the idea that he played a significant role in fostering the development of secularism in Europe.

The Fountain: Is the tradition of Islamic thought alive today? Can we mention theologically or philosophically mature works in this area?

O. L.: I started off responding to the question of what is happening in the area today, and then had to stop since the list of books and thinkers was getting so long. In my view, the most fruitful work today takes place in Iran, where ishraqi philosophy is being combined in productive ways with analytical philosophy to produce a highly original form of thought. Persians have always been predominant in Islamic philosophy; when the subject went into a decline in the rest of the Islamic world it continued to be part of the curriculum in Iran, and there is a very long and indeed unbroken tradition in Iran of philosophical work.

The Fountain: How do you evaluate oriental studies so far? Do they represent the Western interest in Islamic thought?

O. L.: I don’t think Western philosophers are interested in Islamic philosophy, with a few exceptions. The kalam cosmological argument is important in analytical philosophy of religion, and as its name suggests, it comes from Islamic philosophy. Some of the major thinkers in the mashsha’i tradition like Averroes (Ibn Rushd) and Avicenna (Ibn Sina) are known by those interested in medieval philosophy, but otherwise not.

It is not clear to me that we should divide up philosophy into different regions of the world, since those regions constantly work on each other and produce a common philosophical climate. For example, the Christian and Jewish world became in the Middle Ages fascinated with Islamic philosophy, but Islamic philosophy itself earlier on enthusiastically studied and incorporated Greek philosophy.

The Fountain: Let’s talk about the interaction between the Western and Islamic thought. Can Islamic thought bring new perspectives to contemporary Western thought and in what sense can Western thought may be useful for people who try to revive Islamic thought?

O. L.: What is western thought? Ibn Rushd, Ibn Bajja, and Ibn Tufayl, some of the major Islamic philosophers, lived in Spain, which seems quite far west to me. St. Augustine lived in North Africa; does that mean he was an African philosopher? What we call Western philosophy has produced interesting work which other philosophers should study, in just the same way that those in the West should know about more than just their tradition of thought, if there is such a thing.

The Fountain: The University of Kentucky is organizing an international graduate student conference in September this year. You are the coordinator of this conference. Is this conference unique in the US? What was your motivation and target in organizing such a rare and original conference?

O. L.: We wanted to organize a graduate conference on Islamic philosophy because there are a lot of people in the world working in this area, but often they do not come into contact with each other. In the United States in particular graduate students might be working in the area in a department where they are the only person with that interest, and it would be good if people could come together, share views and maintain contact with those in the same field afterwards.

The Fountain: What is your current research about?

O. L.: My current work is on the notion of whether there is a Qur’anic logic and if there is, what is it? The Qur’an constantly calls on its hearers and readers to reflect, ponder, consider what the Book says, and the suggestion is that we are supposed to understand rationally the arguments in the text. I am interested in how those arguments are structured and how far they can be regarded as valid arguments at all.

The University of Kentucky is organizing a conference on contemporary issues in Islamic philosophy and theology. All graduate students, and those of equivalent status, are eligible to present papers at the conference. For further inquiries please visit http://www.uky.edu/AS/Philosophy/events.htm