A very important principle to uphold is to view everything in a positive light, as long as it does not contradict the spirit of faith. It is also essential to evaluate such efforts fairly and, wherever possible, express appreciation and support. Even in cases where events could be interpreted negatively, one should strive uncover reasonable explanations and draw out constructive meaning.

When faced with unpleasant attitudes or behaviors, it is often wiser to respond with patience and tolerance. Minor issues need not be magnified, nor differences turned into sources of conflict. Rather than rekindling old disputes or creating new ones, choosing calm over confrontation helps open the door to understanding. Such an approach—refraining from hostility and leaning instead toward empathy—can lay the foundation for reconciliation and mutual respect across social divides. In societies marked by deep scars from long-standing resentments and hostilities, nurturing love and goodwill becomes an essential endeavor. And for those who hope to cultivate a culture of compassion and tolerance, the task often begins with seeking new paths forward.

Thanks be to God, the fruits of such efforts begin to appear even in a short time. Problems that cannot be resolved through force or fury slowly start to unravel through love. People who once feel pressured or coerced into submission no longer reject invitations to meet on common ground. Even the rusted locks on hearts that harshness can never open begin to yield to gentleness.

After all, human beings—created in the best of forms and inherently drawn to perfection—cannot remain indifferent to sincere acts of goodness. Throughout history and even today, efforts rooted in love and tolerance have always been worthy and noble pursuits in the eyes of humanity.

Who could possibly take offense at those who follow the path of Mawlana Jalal al-Din Rumi, Haci Bektas Veli, Ahmed Yesevi, or Yunus Emre—figures who open their hearts to all, with no distinction between Muslim or non-Muslim, embracing others simply because they are human? To embrace everyone purely on the basis of shared humanity, to open one’s heart without discrimination, to demonstrate that the essence of existence is rooted in love, to affirm that the religion is for compassion—what harm could there possibly be in any of this?

If these values were considered noble and praiseworthy in the past—as they continue to be seen today—why, then, do some people now feel uneasy or disturbed by them?

There are those who hold Rumi in the highest esteem, who constantly quote Yunus Emre, who speak admiringly of Yesevi, and who take pride in the legacy of Haci Bektas. Yet strangely, when individuals today embody that same spirit and strive to keep it alive across the globe, they are met with accusations and stigmatization. Why? Because the issue is not what is being done—it’s who is doing it.

Since the figures of the past are no longer a threat, there’s no risk in praising them. But when it comes to contemporaries—people who are alive and active today—the standards begin to shift. No matter how admirable the actions may be, if they are carried out by those with a different worldview, that’s when anxieties and paranoia take over.

Those who echo the ideals voiced by Rumi, Yesevi, or Yunus—those who strive to cultivate an atmosphere of love and tolerance in society—are suddenly viewed as dangerous or subversive. Certain vested interests fear that such spiritually grounded individuals may gradually gain influence; that the moral weight, sincerity, and public resonance they carry might place those in power in a morally uncomfortable position; and that, in time, these same power holders may feel compelled—by circumstance rather than coercion—to sit down and engage in genuine dialogue with them.

Had these paranoid minds lived during the time of Rumi, they would have tried to silence him—or even exile him. And if Rumi were alive today, gathering around him a growing circle of admirers, and if people began responding to his call with sincerity—he too would be labeled a threat. Plans would be drawn up in dark corners on how to silence his voice.

Those same malicious voices who now hurl slanders and insults at anyone they label an opponent would no doubt have said similar things about Ahmed Yesevi. They would scheme to undermine the influence of Yunus Emre, who draws people through the love and warmth he spreads. They would brand Haci Bektas Veli a “traitor” and throw him into prison.

Why? Because they cannot tolerate the presence of a will beyond their own, or any form of influence, moral authority, or persuasive appeal that does not stem from their own sphere of control. Sadly, the militaristic mindset of past eras continues today—under new names and disguises—still crushing anyone who refuses to toe their line or follow their roadmap.

In the face of such irrationality and inconsistency, it is only natural for one’s inner strength to be shaken at times. In moments like these, questions may arise about whether the efforts being made—or the dedication shown by those walking a similar path—are truly right and meaningful.

In such moments, a person may find themselves asking, “Am I doing something wrong? Why is there such strong opposition to these efforts?”

Yet, in truth, nothing is amiss. What is being carried out today reflects—almost down to the smallest detail—the very path that Rumi once walked. Today’s Rumis—souls devoted to the Divine, sincere and selfless in their service—continue along that same line, conveying that same message to humanity in a renewed form.

Yet some people refuse to consider the beauty of what is being done. Instead, they focus entirely on who is doing it. Because in their minds, they have already placed these individuals in a box—passed judgment on them, labeled them as “the other,” and branded them as “bad.”

As a result, any good deed carried out by such individuals is automatically deemed bad—not because of the deed itself, but because of who performed it. The reasoning becomes painfully shallow: “If they are the ones doing it, then it must be wrong.”

Even if they were to guide people toward paradise, shield them from the fire, awaken faith in their hearts, help the seeds of eternal bliss bloom within their souls, and bring peace and contentment to the world—they would still be condemned. Their actions would still be misjudged, and they would still be declared guilty.

Because, from the very beginning, the decision had already been made: “We see these people as the other, and so whatever they do must be wrong.” That, in truth, is the heart of the matter.

None of this should discourage anyone or diminish one’s inner strength. On the contrary, good efforts must continue—and even grow—by being multiplied. Those engaged in such work understand their own path and responsibilities, and it is not for anyone to dictate their course. But this much can be said: in times like these, panic is never the right response.

Panic is merely a reflection of the opposing side—their state of mind, their anxieties, their fears. Those who lash out are often the ones most gripped by insecurity. For this reason, what is needed is not panic, but steady, thoughtful resolve. When people devote themselves to serving others—whether ten thousand go out into the world this year to share compassion and inspiration with those in need, and perhaps one hundred thousand do so the next—the true goal is to let such goodness grow. Service, when multiplied, becomes a force that expands naturally and powerfully, reaching more hearts and transforming more lives. In places where hostility is met with walls and offensives, the most powerful response is to take steps inspired by love, dialogue, human embrace, and positive action—steps so sincere and unexpected that negativity cannot reach them. By the time adversaries attempt to catch up, all they encounter is the dust left behind by those advancing through goodwill.

In such moments, it becomes far more difficult for opposition to interfere with or obstruct what is being accomplished. Their efforts collapse under the weight of their own paranoia; they flail within the whirlpool of panic they themselves have created and stumble when confronted with the beauty being brought into existence.

As hearts are drawn toward sincerity and as the reasonableness of compassionate work gathers people together, those who are unsettled by such light—like souls who shrink from brightness—may, in time, become consumed by their own hatred.

Yet it is essential to remember that the aim is never to provoke, enrage, or harm anyone. A spirit rooted in mercy does not respond to curses, seek revenge, or wish misfortune upon others. Even if someone, overwhelmed by paranoia or resentment, were to fall into personal ruin, there is no joy to be found in such an outcome.

There was a moment in my own life that revealed just how easily the heart can be tested. Someone who had caused great harm and acted with deep hostility spoke in such a way that, for an instant, a harsh thought arose within me—a fleeting wish for divine punishment in response to the injustice being endured. At first glance, such a reaction might seem understandable. Throughout history, even revered spiritual figures like Muhammad Bahauddin Naqshband, Imam Ghazali, and Bediuzzaman Said Nursi sometimes sought relief by appealing to divine justice when faced with persistent cruelty or oppression. But for me, the thought was only momentary. As soon as I paused to reflect, my eyes filled with tears. I found myself saying, “No, my Lord—how could I wish punishment upon anyone, even those who act with hostility or seek to discredit sincere efforts with slander and falsehood? Such a wish is too heavy to utter. If You choose to act, let it be through guidance. Let their encounter be not with ruin, but with truth, clarity, and transformation.”

Let the whole world hear this: this must be the state of the heart. One should not wish for anyone to perish in paranoia, anger, restlessness, or inner suffering. Such thoughts have no place in a heart that seeks what is right.

Our sole prayer is this: that God may grant all people fairness and sound judgment. May He allow them to see the truth as it is, in accordance with its full value and dignity. Rather than spending their time in bitterness, stubbornness, and exclusion, may they embrace the good that is being done and allow it to find a place in their hearts.

This path has always been carried by a generous spirit. Whenever someone offers even a small act of kindness, that goodness is cherished and uplifted. The aim is simple: to win hearts and to seek God’s pleasure by helping build a world shaped by peace and harmony. There is no other agenda. Those who manufacture conflict as though it were real only reveal themselves as the true source of unrest.

The great spiritual figures of the past—Rumi, Yesevi, and others—left behind a legacy of expansive love for humanity. Anyone who strives to follow their example will feel their heart drawn toward compassion rather than hostility. Hatred, vengeance, and rage belong to another way of being—one that leads only to division and sorrow. The commitment here is different: never to see another person as “the other,” and even when seen that way by others, to keep one’s arms open.

Even if someone were to approach with hostility or harm in hand, the response must remain: “Come, dear friend—there is still a place for you in my heart.”

May God grant the strength to remain firm upon this path and the ability to carry these good efforts forward in ever-growing measure. Amen.