Ali Topdag*
Recently, a book titled “149 Insights on What the Hizmet Movement Has Experienced” was published by Crab Publishing. The book does more than simply recount events; it invites the reader to understand and interpret them.
Each chapter opens a window into the deeper background of what has happened. As you read, questions begin to surface in your mind: “Were the events really limited to what I saw?”, “Did I truly understand what was happening, or did I only think I did?”, “What lies behind all of this?”, “Are these experiences merely a test, or part of a greater divine plan?”—and gradually, answers begin to take shape.
I would like to focus on the 98th point in the book. It expresses something very fundamental: at the core of the Hizmet Movement, there is both love and reason. In fact, this is not unique to Hizmet; it is also true for faith and for life itself. People are often connected to things not through reason, but through the heart. Even in acts of worship, there are aspects that cannot easily be explained rationally but are carried through love. When love weakens, reason is left on its own—and then people may start to see wrong as right and right as unnecessary. The message here is simple: without love, reason loses its way.
Rumi’s well-known saying reminds us of this balance:
“If you have reason, befriend another reason and consult together; but if you have love, remain alone, for love will burn you sufficiently.”
Reason seeks consultation; love ignites a fire within a person. But when the two are separated, what emerges is either cold calculation or uncontrolled enthusiasm.
This is not only true for a movement or a community—it applies to each of us. A person needs love to move forward, but also needs reason to know where they are going. Love lifts a person up, while reason steadies them. Love sets one on the path; reason keeps one on it. For anyone with an ideal, one without the other remains incomplete.
Consider a parent who deeply loves their child. That love drives sacrifice—sleepless nights, hard work, endless effort. But if reason does not intervene, the parent may give the child everything they want, failing to set boundaries, which ultimately harms the child’s development. On the other hand, imagine a parent guided solely by reason: there are rules and discipline, but no love. In that case, the child grows up, but emotionally hollow. The right approach is to balance love with reason, and reason with love.
The same applies to societies. In a community where love exists, people make sacrifices, endure hardships, and remain committed to what they believe is right. But without reason, the line between right and wrong becomes blurred. We have all seen how initiatives that began with good intentions later led to serious problems. There was sincerity, enthusiasm, and goodwill—but without measure, they burned out like straw fires.
Conversely, when only reason dominates, the spirit of the endeavor eventually disappears. Everything may be correct and well-planned, but actions lose their sincerity, and people act merely out of duty—often expecting something in return.
There is a well-known saying, attributed to many in various forms:
“Reason is a good servant but a bad master.”
I believe it is no coincidence that Western civilization, which has reached the peak of technological production, also struggles with a sense of inner unrest. There is reason, but not enough love; calculation, but a lack of compassion; systems in place, but a weakened spirit.
Now imagine a person or a community driven by love and motivation. At first, it is impressive—there is enthusiasm, commitment, sacrifice. But without balance, this too begins to fade over time. Everything is assumed to be right, questioning weakens, and people may commit mistakes with good intentions. History is full of such examples—movements that began with great excitement but eventually dissolved because they were not filtered through reason.
From what I see, neither love nor reason is sufficient on its own. Love can blind; reason can harden. But when they come together, something else emerges: a more balanced, deeper, more authentic stance. We might call this wisdom—knowing not only what is right, but how and when to act rightly.
When a friend points out a mistake you made, if you respond only with reason, you may become defensive, thinking, “They’re criticizing me.” If you respond only with love, you may feel hurt without understanding why it was said. But if you engage both, you can recognize the intention and evaluate the truth of what was said. In that moment, the experience contributes to your growth.
Within communities, those who represent reason—often the experienced—tend to be more cautious, because they understand the consequences of actions. Those who represent love—often the young—move faster, driven by energy and a sense of possibility. If these two groups fail to understand each other, conflict arises. But if they succeed in complementing one another, a powerful structure emerges. Experience provides direction; youth provides momentum.
That is why asking “Love or reason?” is not particularly meaningful. The real question is whether we can carry both together—preserving love without losing reason, and using reason without harming love. That is the true challenge: maintaining balance.
So I invite you to ask yourself:
Is my reason suppressing my love, or is my love silencing my reason?
If the two can support one another, both the individual and the community will find their path. Because the path is neither what reason alone knows nor what the heart alone feels—it is where the two walk together.
*Ali Tpdag is a writer and commentator at TR724.com.
