Old Age: Consoling Hopes

Old Age: Consoling Hopes

Just as this mystery of mercy is manifest in the young, so too does it extend to the elderly, who, through their weakness and helplessness, come to resemble children.

Through countless experiences, I have become fully convinced that, just as Divine mercy causes nourishment to flow from mothers' breasts to their infants on account of their helplessness, so too does it bestow sustenance upon elderly believers who have regained a state of innocence, in the form of barakah and blessings.

Moreover, the saying of the Prophet (saw) —“If there were no elderly people with bent backs among you, calamities would descend upon you like a flood”— shows that venerable, stooped elderly people are both a source of blessing within a household and a protection against calamity.

Since the weakness and helplessness of old age attract Divine mercy so powerfully; since the Qur’an, in the verses

اِمَّا يَبْلُغَنَّ عِنْدَكَ الْكِبَرَ اَحَدُهُمَآ اَوْ كِلاَهُمَا فَلاَ تَقُلْ لَهُمَا اُفٍّ وَلاَ تَنْهَرْهُمَا وَقُلْ لَهُمَا قَوْلاً كَرِيمًا ۞ وَاخْفِضْ لَهُمَا جَنَاحَ الذُّلِّ مِنَ الرَّحْمَةِ وَقُلْ رَبِّ ارْحَمْهُمَا كَمَا رَبَّيَانِى صَغِيرًا

calls upon us, in a miraculous manner and in five distinct ways, to show respect and compassion towards elderly parents; since Islam teaches us to honour the elderly and treat them with compassion; and since human nature itself calls us to revere them and show them mercy—we who have reached old age receive, in place of the fleeting sensual pleasures of youth, the enduring, genuine spiritual gifts of Divine mercy and human respect, together with the inward joy they bring.

Therefore, we should not wish to exchange our old age for a hundred periods of youth.

Indeed, I assure you that even if the ten years of the Old Said's youth were offered to me in exchange for my old age, I would not surrender a single year of the New Said's old age for them.

Since I am content with my old age, you too should be content with yours.

The Tenth Hope

After my return from captivity, I once again fell under the sway of heedlessness for a year or two in Istanbul.

One day, when the atmosphere of politics had diverted my attention from my own soul and scattered it among the affairs of the outside world, I was sitting on an elevated spot in the Eyup Sultan Cemetery, overlooking the valley. As I gazed across the surroundings of Istanbul, I was suddenly overcome by the feeling that my own world was dying and that my soul was, in some measure, withdrawing from my body.

I wondered, “Could it be the inscriptions on the gravestones in this cemetery that are giving rise to such images in my imagination?” I turned my gaze away from the distant view and looked instead at the cemetery itself. Then the following thought was inspired in my heart: