Old Age: Consoling Hopes

The Sixteenth Hope

Once, in my old age, after serving a one-year sentence in Eskişehir Prison, I was exiled to Kastamonu, where I was kept at the police station for two or three months. One can readily imagine how much someone like me must have suffered under such circumstances—a recluse who finds even meeting his devoted friends burdensome and cannot bear the slightest change in his clothing.

While I was in this state of despair, Divine assistance suddenly came to my aid. The police commissioner and the officers at the station became devoted friends of mine. They never compelled me to wear a hat. On the contrary, as though they were my attendants, they allowed me to walk about the outskirts of the town whenever I wished.

Afterwards, I took up residence in the Madrasa an-Nūriyya of Kastamonu, opposite the police station, and began writing the Risale-i Nur. Heroic students of the Risale-i Nur, such as Feyzi, Emin, Hilmi, Sadık, Nazif, and Salahaddin, faithfully came to the madrasa to copy and distribute its treatises. They afforded me an experience of scholarly companionship even more splendid than the precious discussions I had enjoyed with my former students in my youth.

The details of this Sixteenth Hope are recorded in the letters I sent from Kastamonu, which were included in The Kastamonu Letters; in the short letters I secretly sent to my brothers there from Denizli Prison; and in The Treatise of the Denizli Defence. These writings clearly illustrate the truth of this Sixteenth Hope. For further details, we refer you to those letters and to my defence, contenting ourselves here with only a brief indication.

I had concealed the confidential and important treatises—particularly those concerning the Sufyān and the karāmāt of the Risale-i Nur—beneath coal and firewood, intending that they should be published only after my death, or after the authorities had learned the truth and come to their senses.

While I rested secure in this hope, detectives and the deputy public prosecutor suddenly raided my residence. They discovered those confidential and weighty treatises beneath the firewood and, despite my frail health, sent me to Isparta Prison.

While I was deeply distressed by the suffering and grave harm inflicted upon the Risale-i Nur, Divine assistance hastened to our aid. The authorities began reading those hidden and weighty treatises—which the government itself was, in fact, in urgent need of—with great interest and attention. Great government buildings were almost transformed into madrasas of the Risale-i Nur. Although the officials had initially approached the works with the intention of criticising them, they gradually came to appreciate them.

Moreover, in Denizli, without our knowledge, many officials and private individuals read the printed edition of The Supreme Sign, and their īmān was strengthened through it. All this caused us almost entirely to forget the hardships of our imprisonment.

Later, they transferred us to Denizli Prison, where they placed me in complete isolation in a stuffy, damp, and cold cell. Burdened by old age and illness, tormented by the suffering my innocent friends were enduring on my account, and distressed by the interruption of the activities of the Risale-i Nur and the confiscation of its treatises, I was in a state of profound anguish.