Dr. William was a well-known public figure, celebrated for his contributions to world peace and for his speeches emphasizing the doctrine of Tawhid. After his last press statement at the foundation, he had planned to return to the hospital and resume surgery, but he quickly realized that dark forces were not idle, and that new schemes were already in motion. He began meeting with Muslim and Christian religious leaders to prevent an impending provocation.

No one truly knew whether he was Muslim or Christian. To those who asked, he simply said he was a believer walking in the path of the Exalted Messiah. For Christians, that made him one of their own. For Muslims, following the Prophet Isa—known as the Messiah—meant he belonged among them. According to the Qur’an, even prophets of the earliest civilizations such as Noah described themselves as “Muslim” or “believer,” showing that the term originally denoted adherence to pure monotheism. Many, therefore, regarded William as Muslim.

Those enlightened by divine revelation, and gifted with wisdom and discernment, did not bother themselves with labeling William’s faith. His heart was illuminated by scripture—what more mattered?

He arrived at the mosque in Berlin’s most densely Muslim neighborhood. He would give a brief address, then hand the pulpit over to its rightful steward, Imam Eyup.

“My beloved brothers and sisters,” he began.

“Before coming here, I had several patients scheduled for surgery. I had to make a choice: either come here and try to neutralize the negative energy gathering over our heads, or sit back and watch it spread. During the pandemic, we learned something the hard way: if you don’t intervene early—if you don’t enforce quarantine when necessary—once the virus spreads, stopping it becomes almost impossible. In the same way, we must prevent the magnetic waves of racism and hatred from spreading through our environment.”

Seeing the puzzled looks in the crowd, William decided to go deeper.

“Our phones, radios, televisions all function through electromagnetic waves. And for these waves to function, they rely on towers and networks. Some researchers claim that right above our heads there is a zone—an ‘aura,’ if you will—something like a biological dish that receives these waves. It draws in surrounding energy, and whichever frequency dominates the environment becomes dominant in us.”

“Just as every radio operates on a different frequency, and we tune a receiver to catch a specific station, so too are we tuned. If our surroundings fill with anger, hatred, revenge, or war, this biological dish absorbs that negativity. Then, even the mildest, most gentle people begin to reflect it in their choices and their behavior. That is precisely what terrorists want: to flood the atmosphere with negative energy so that societies become receptive to it. Even if a person doesn’t ‘die’ from it, they at least catch the psychological equivalent of a cold.”

“For example, right after the September 11 attacks, researchers used instruments to measure changes in the Earth’s magnetic energy and field. They found a clear shift. The explanation was simple: billions of people, from East to West, North to South, experienced the same emotional shock—grief, anxiety, and fear. They transmitted these feelings into the world through their biological receivers, creating a negative synergy. And that synergy altered the planet’s magnetic field.”

A question naturally arises: “So what? Why should it matter if the Earth’s magnetic field shifts?”

According to the divine teachings—different in language, identical in meaning—if injustice or oppression occurs anywhere on the planet, everyone should react to it. We might explain this through the responsibility of giving account in the life after death. But that explanation is incomplete. As I mentioned earlier, the negative waves generated by such injustice affect even those living far from the place where it happened.

And not only political or religious injustices: domestic violence, economic inequality, bullying, cruelty toward animals—countless forms of oppression accumulate within this corridor of negative energy that flows through the air. Ultimately, depending on a person's biological and psychological vulnerability, this can manifest as headaches, idiopathic pain, autoimmune diseases (where the immune system mistakes its own cells for enemies), Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and even cancer.

Cancer patients might ask their doctors:
“What happened to our healthy cells that they suddenly turned cancerous?”
Hypertension patients might ask:
“We’ve always eaten salty foods—why is our blood pressure rising now?”
Diabetics might wonder why their bodies no longer produce enough insulin, or why the hormone no longer works.

In the end, this much is clear: medicine identifies the outward cause of illness and tries to treat it. But it cannot explain why the cause appeared in the first place.

Biophysics experts tell us that human cells are made of atoms, atoms of subatomic particles, and ultimately, photons—particles of energy. The same experts suggest that the reason each cell receives just the right amount of oxygen and nutrients is an invisible communication, a hidden bond between cells. And at this point, they propose that communication between photons happens through electromagnetic waves. Negative waves entering the system disrupt this mechanism.

William took a sip of water from the glass on the table, pausing to catch his breath, then continued:

“I am a brain surgeon, and I can tell you this: what we know about the brain and neurons is a single drop compared to the ocean of what we do not know. Quantum physics, especially, seems to hold the codes of the universe. How is it that neurons—identical in biological structure—can perform specialized tasks like vision, hearing, memory? Many researchers now argue that the answer lies in bio-quantum physics, intimately connected to what I’ve just described. I won’t weary you with who conducted which studies or when; that detail would only drown you in unnecessary information,” William said, before delivering his final point.

“Whether it is a terrorist hijacking a plane in America, bullets fired in Palestine, a bomb detonated in Berlin, or a woman murdered in Istanbul—whenever a person suffers injustice, she believes that others do not care because of her religion, gender, race, or socioeconomic status. And so, she accepts the world as a battlefield. If she feels as though she is drowning in a polluted world, the negative energy generated by her sorrow will affect any other individual under the same dome we call the atmosphere.

For this reason, we should not think only of earning paradise after death, but of building a peaceful world before it. The mindset cannot be, ‘tragedy burns only where it falls,’ but rather, ‘every fire burns me as well.’ To dispel the negative energy hovering over Berlin these past days, we must—today, as soon as we leave this mosque—knock on the door of our Christian or Jewish neighbor with sweets in one hand and flowers in the other. If not that, then at least make a sincere post on social media expressing our sorrow for the loss of a Christian brother or sister.”

William left with the same greeting Muslims use: “Peace be upon you.”
Imam Eyüp could see in his congregation’s eyes that William’s clear message had extinguished the fire that agitators sought to ignite. Rather than continue on the topic of brotherhood, he chose to address another spiritual illness of the age. He began reciting verses, one after another:

“Among the people of Medina are those who have mastered hypocrisy. You do not know them, but We know them. We will punish them twice—once in this world, once in the grave—and then they will be returned to a far greater punishment.” (9:101)

“Indeed, those who desire that obscenity and corruption spread among the believers will face a painful punishment in this world and the next.” (24:19)

“We will surely make them taste a nearer punishment—before the greater punishment—so that they might return (from their defiance).” (32:21)

As William had tried to explain scientifically, in this age where all values are overturned, we are all—more or less—exposed to spiritual ailments carried by the same foul wind. Under its influence, we become worldly: more impatient, more addicted to instant pleasures, more inclined toward comfort. We want to be like the people on social media—wealthy, relaxed, healthy, perfectly posed.

As a truth of our earthly trial, every person faces hardships and calamities of different degrees. One may fall ill, or someone they love may suffer. A sudden accident may leave them crippled. They may end up in prison, rightly or wrongly. They may desperately want a child yet never have one. They may go bankrupt. Or, more broadly, they may be trapped for half a century in a war that confines them, driven from their homeland, forced to live as a refugee in search of a safer place.

Anyone with faith, when crushed by such burdens, turns to God for relief—and that is the right thing to do. But when one does not recover, when the war does not end, when returning home remains a dream, when release from prison never comes, hope begins to fade.

Imam Eyüp lifted his index finger and pointed to the word “Allah” written on the wall, capturing the congregation’s attention.

“This,” he said, “is the crossroads where paths diverge. A person’s state and their choices present two roads ahead. On one road, the person recognizes their incapacity, understands that the world has turned its back on them, and so clings even more tightly to Allah. Their suffering becomes the very thing that elevates them—vertically, heavenward.

“But there is another road. And that road divides into many smaller paths.

“The worst of them is this: when a person, unable to escape hardship, begins to blame Allah. When resentment festers so deeply that it becomes denial, and they declare, ‘There is no Allah—if He existed, He would not allow this injustice!’ Such people exist, though they are few. It is our deepest wish that no one dies in that state—for otherwise…”

The congregation knew Imam Eyüp would never openly declare anyone condemned. They understood well what the unspoken end of that sentence meant.

“But there is another path,” he said. “Its end does not necessarily descend into the same dark abyss as the previous one—but walking it is like treading the edge of a precipice whose one side is shadowed by that abyss.”

“When a person fails to see relief, or any development that might gladden the faithful, they respond to their disappointment in a different way. Because they possess a strong belief in Allah, they do not deny Him, nor do they speak in defiance. Yet they come to believe that Allah does not intervene in human affairs, that He Himself does not step outside the laws He established until the Day of Judgment.”

“There is a rule we all see in this world: the strong always win, even if they are unjust and cruel. And so, those who walk this path do not necessarily refuse prayer, but they do not pray with the fervor and reliance a believer should possess. They are not troubled by their lack of supplication, nor do they feel sorrow or remorse over it.”

“If we consider certain verses regarding the oppressors in the Qur’an, we understand that Allah abides by His own laws. For example: ‘Had a word not gone forth beforehand from your Lord, judgment would indeed have been passed between them’ (41:45). Similar verses indicate that Allah grants oppressors a term—an appointed time—before retribution.”

“Interpreting this as applying only to those who deny Allah until death would be incomplete. These verses imply that many forms of injustice—racism, tyranny, the Pharaoh-like domination of the weak, the manufacturing of fear—are also given time, and that punishment is not inflicted immediately in response to each transgression.”

“As the verses that head my sermon indicate, oppressors can be punished not only after death, but also before. Though not always, it can happen. That punishment may come by the sword of a brave soul, or by an illness caused by a virus or bacterium acting as Allah’s appointed agent. It may come suddenly, through shifts in politics, society, or the economy that turn against the oppressor.”

“To avoid misunderstanding, let me say again: this punishment may come years later—or it may be deferred until after death.”

“For example, according to the divine promise, an angel will not descend from the heavens and strike down the oppressor in full view of everyone. If that were to happen, people would stand with the truth not out of conviction, but out of coercion. Such a world would leave no room for the trial of life.”

“To believe that Allah never intervenes in the affairs of the oppressor during this world, and never restrains oppression, contradicts the very foundation of the doctrine of tawhid. By that reasoning, prayer would be pointless. No matter how desperately a person pleaded, nothing would change. And that stands in stark opposition to the essence of servanthood—recognizing one’s helplessness and turning to Allah.”

“There is, of course, no decree that every oppressor must be punished in this life. It may be that some receive their recompense only after the Day of Judgment. Yet every individual must ask themselves: Is the other truly an oppressor in the full sense of the word? And am I truly a victim without fault? When I desire that someone I deem oppressive be neutralized, do I desire it sincerely for Allah’s sake, or for my own ego and vengeance? These questions must be examined.”

“We must never forget the principle inherent in tawhid: ‘No one is indispensable; all are equal; the righteous are always strong, and the unjust are always weak.’ Nor should we forget another principle: if a wrongdoer is of the same faith as us, we still may not defend them because of that bond. If we do, we become indistinguishable from those we criticize, and in the process, we tarnish the faith we claim to represent. And then, how could we possibly invite others to it?”

“I would like to remind us of something relevant to our discussion: wars, suffering, oppression, and division have always existed. History books celebrate battles—this army triumphed, that city was conquered—but they rarely speak of the immense anguish behind those victories. Even the victorious side leaves behind thousands of dead, children made orphans, families torn apart. History records political developments in a few sentences, yet behind those lines lie executions, disappearances, and tragedies untold. Wives grew old waiting for husbands who never returned. Children grew up without fathers. What I mean is this: in every era, sincere believers have endured countless injustices that history never bothered to record. And as the verse says, they cried out, ‘When will the help of Allah come?’”

“For this reason, we must pray for the best outcome, while preparing ourselves for the worst. In the Qur’an, the chapter of al-Masad (Tebbet) speaks of Abu Lahab and the curse against him. Some narrations indicate that seven years passed between the revelation of that verse and the fulfillment of that curse. Allah answered the plea of the Prophet—His beloved, whom He addressed as ‘My beloved’—after seven years, granting the oppressor a respite. Thus, we cannot know when or how Allah will answer our prayers.”

As Imam Eyüp was concluding his sermon, he made sure not to omit one final warning.

“I emphasize this clearly: do not label those who believe that Allah does not punish oppressors in this world as deists. Rather, we may call them believers walking at the edge of a cliff.”

“To group them with those who say, ‘I believe in no prophets, or only some of them,’ or who deny any distinction between lawful and unlawful, would be a grave injustice. In time, as they witness events that restore their joy, they will recover from their spiritual malaise. This group of believers often says, ‘For years, we have awaited that powerful and just order that will rule the earth before the Final Hour. Yet contrary to our hope, matters only seem to worsen.’”

“They should ask themselves a question: Look at the Middle Eastern lands where you expect this promised just order to emerge. You tell me—do the qualities of the people there match the qualities of believers described in the Qur’an? Are crime rates decreasing, or multiplying? Why is it that prisons are closing in Europe, while new ones are being built in Muslim regions? Do the streets not swarm with drug dealers? Are the dominant values in society love, honesty, and justice—or the traits of sabotage and decay? And in the homes of those who bear the title mu’min, meaning ‘people of safety and trust,’ are their doors left open?”

“From the verses we understand that unless people incline toward goodness, the Creator does not change their condition. Yet, in response to sincere prayer, Allah may still grant competent and just leaders, even if society does not itself incline toward virtue, and through them bring peace to a region. Moreover, the justice, love, tolerance, and solidarity humanity longs for today may very well come as a wind from the West. The hospitality of the people of this continent—welcoming us with smiles, seeing us as part of themselves, granting us equal citizenship without regard to language, faith, or color—can be interpreted as early signs of a storm of goodness waiting to break.”

As the congregation listened, they found themselves both agreeing with Imam Eyüp and wrestling with an uneasy thought:

“How strange. Previous imams would proclaim, ‘We are Muslims, they are infidels; the earth belongs to us. The sun of Islam is rising, it is about to dawn.’ Yet, when we looked at Muslim lands, nothing suggested such a sunrise—still, we wanted to believe it. And now this imam is saying that perhaps the fulfillment of that hope will come from this very continent.”

While most of them reflected like this, one among them, Raşit, clenched his teeth so hard they nearly cracked, seething with anger toward the imam and William. In his mind, he hurled every insult and curse he could conjure. He raised his hand, ready to shout:

“You filthy infidel! How can a Muslim seek hope in a land of unbelievers? How can you praise them and bury us in shame? You are a heretic!”

But before the words left his mouth, a memory surfaced—words spoken years ago, before he came to Europe, by the leader of an organization he had met with in the middle of the ocean:

“We are giving you a new mission. You will go to Europe as a refugee. No, you will not be a bomber. You will live as a citizen among them and obey their laws. During that time, you will have no contact with us. Years will pass, and then a task will be assigned to you. How you will receive that task and from whom is written here. Read it, and burn it.”

When Raşit read what was written on the paper that day, his first reaction was a stuttered protest:

“H-h-how am I supposed to take orders from someone named in this document?”

The leader had grinned as he replied:

“We have more agents than you or I could ever know.”

Remembering those words now, Raşit chose silence—the silence of an alligator waiting for its prey. With effort, he managed to smother the volcano inside him