Human Haste in Light of the Qur’an
A Qur’anic critique of apocalyptic haste in religious and political life
Introduction
Haste does not necessarily mean walking quickly, finishing one’s words rapidly, or wanting to complete a task faster than others. In life, there are many matters that must be done on time and even with speed, and the Qur’an itself calls us to race ahead in good works. The problem does not begin with speed itself. The knot appears when the human being becomes impatient and wants the result before its time has arrived. Haste means trying to shorten the path through a shortcut without having arranged its prerequisites, or wanting to decide with certainty about a future that has not yet come and about which we do not have knowledge. Sometimes a person, in the fever of reaching a goal he considers sacred, ignores the real consequences of his behavior; and here haste takes on the color of poor judgment.
The Qur’an presents this tendency as one of the deep-rooted weaknesses of the human being:
وَيَدْعُ الْإِنْسَانُ بِالشَّرِّ دُعَاءَهُ بِالْخَيْرِ وَكَانَ الْإِنْسَانُ عَجُولًا
Wa-yad‘u al-insanu bi-sh-sharri du‘a’ahu bi-l-khayr, wa-kana al-insanu ‘ajula.
The human being calls for evil as he calls for good, and the human being is very hasty.
This verse lifts the veil from a reality that repeats again and again in personal, social, and religious life: sometimes the human being imagines something to be pure good, prays to reach it, spends all his ability and cost for it, and may even sacrifice others to reach that goal, while the real result of that desire is nothing but evil. The problem is not that he always knowingly chooses evil. The main problem is that haste takes away his power to see the outcome of the matter and blinds the eye of his insight.
The Qur’an says elsewhere:
خُلِقَ الْإِنْسَانُ مِنْ عَجَلٍ سَأُرِيكُمْ آيَاتِي فَلَا تَسْتَعْجِلُونِ
Khuliqa al-insanu min ‘ajal; sa-urikum ayati fa-la tasta‘jilun.
The human being was created from haste; I will show you My signs, so do not ask Me to hasten.
“Created from haste” is not a material description of the creation of the human being. Rather, it shows how intensely haste-seeking is mixed into him. The human being desires immediate result. He wants the veil of the future to be lifted sooner, the promise to be fulfilled before its appointed time, and the ending of the story to be seen before the path has been traveled. But God answers this desire by saying: I will show you My signs; do not hasten.
One of the most dangerous forms of this tendency is haste for the arrival of an apocalyptic savior, especially when this expectation goes beyond personal hope and becomes a political worldview, a justification for war, an acceptance of corruption, a suspension of responsibility, or a disregard for human rights.
From Personal Haste to Apocalyptic Ideology
The hasty human being quickly tastes the bitterness of his behavior in daily life. At the height of anger he says a word that destroys a valuable relationship forever. To reach a short-term profit, he makes a decision that endangers the future of his family. Before hearing the other side’s words to the end, he judges. To reach the result sooner, he chooses a path whose cost weighs on his shoulders for years.
But when this same moral weakness enters the domain of religion and politics, it no longer cripples only one person. It turns into an ideology. In such an atmosphere, a society is trained to close its eyes to the bitter consequences of the present moment in order to reach that promised end.
In these conditions, fundamental human questions lose their color, and no one asks anymore:
Is this behavior just?
Is an innocent life going to be sacrificed in the middle of this?
Does this policy root corruption more deeply in society?
Does this prayer and appeal make us more responsible and more active, or more withdrawn and powerless?
Are these prophecies truly based on knowledge and the Qur’an, or are they merely a report that has reached us through habit and the repetition of previous generations?
The main questions change. Instead of measuring the rightness or wrongness of an action by the scales of justice, mercy, and righteous action, the human being asks only: “Is this event a sign that the promised end is near?”
From this point onward, everything changes: war crimes are no longer treated as human disasters, but as signs of the end times; the spread of corruption is no longer a social injury, but is introduced as a necessary prelude to the appearance of saviors; the seizure of a land is no longer a question of power and human rights, but is justified as the fulfillment of ancient prophecies. In this view, the real suffering of living human beings becomes part of an unseen drama that supposedly must be performed to the end at any cost.
Here, haste is no longer a simple personal trait. It becomes a destructive apparatus for the destruction of reason and ethics.
Hastening the Return of Jesus and Sacrificing the Living Human Being
Not all Christians, not all Protestants, and not even all Evangelical Christians hold one political and apocalyptic view. Many Christians have spoken in defense of Palestinians, in opposition to war, and in critique of religious Zionism. The subject of this article is a specific current of Christian Zionism that ties support for the State of Israel to the fulfillment of end-time prophecies.
In part of this current, the return of Jews to Palestine, the expansion of Israeli sovereignty over the claimed land, control over Jerusalem, and in more extreme readings the rebuilding of the ancient Temple, are regarded as necessary stages before the return of Jesus. Such readings are not accepted among all Christians, but they have gained real political and financial influence in some active Evangelical networks. Research and media reports show that some of these currents regard the existence and expansion of Israel as the fulfillment of biblical prophecy and connect it with the return of Christ. Some of them have also supported projects related to Jewish settlement, settlement expansion, and the idea of rebuilding the Temple so that this return of Jesus may be hastened and occur with haste.
This belief reaches the border of danger precisely when the “Palestinian human being” is no longer, in the observer’s eyes, a complete human being with life, home, family, memories, rights, and dignity. In this view, he becomes merely an obstacle before the fulfillment of prophecies. His home is no longer “home”; it is a piece of a “promised land.” His displacement is no longer a painful human crime; it is read as an unavoidable stage on the path of another people’s return. In this intellectual apparatus, even the killing of children can be reduced, amid the noise of that “final battle,” to a secondary and insignificant cost.
In such a logic, the living human being is sacrificed to an unseen report whose truth and timing are not in the hands of its claimants.
The support that some Evangelical organizations and communities give Israel today is also openly expressed in the language of divine commitment and the fulfillment of prophecy, although serious disagreement and critique exist inside that same community. Contemporary reports show that for a number of these currents, support for Israel is not only a political choice, but a religious duty based on prophecy.
The problem is not at all whether a Christian hopes for the return of Jesus or not. The question is whether this hope, in its final effect, makes him more sensitive and compassionate toward the lives of other human beings, or more indifferent and hard-hearted. When someone, under the pretext and hope of the coming of a “prophet of mercy,” remains silent or turns away before the killing, displacement, hunger, and collective punishment of his fellow human beings, a deep and irreparable split has appeared between “the name of the ideal” and “the truth of his behavior.” In reality, he is standing exactly at the point where a sacred goal has become a tool for justifying disaster.
The Qur’an measures this split with a clear criterion:
يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا كُونُوا قَوَّامِينَ لِلَّهِ شُهَدَاءَ بِالْقِسْطِ وَلَا يَجْرِمَنَّكُمْ شَنَآنُ قَوْمٍ عَلَىٰ أَلَّا تَعْدِلُوا اعْدِلُوا هُوَ أَقْرَبُ لِلتَّقْوَىٰ
Ya ayyuha alladhina amanu kunu qawwamina lillahi shuhada’a bi-l-qist, wa-la yajrimannakum shana’anu qawmin ‘ala alla ta‘dilu. I‘dilu; huwa aqrabu li-t-taqwa.
O you who have believed, stand firmly for God, witnesses in justice. Do not let hatred of a people drive you not to be just. Be just; that is nearer to taqwa.
Justice in the Qur’an is not suspended until the arrival of a savior. Even enmity toward a people does not permit their right to be ignored. How, then, can one invalidate the rights of a nation in hope of fulfilling a prophecy? How can one pray for the return of a prophet, while passing beyond the ethical criterion of the prophets themselves?
If the return of Jesus becomes an excuse for the conscience to go silent before oppression, then what is being worshiped is no longer the truth of Jesus’ message, but a political image of him built for the victory of one camp.
The Prayer to Hasten the Appearance and the Transfer of Responsibility to an Absent Savior
On the other side of this phenomenon, in the common Shi‘i culture there are prayers and phrases that openly ask for haste in the appearance of the absent Imam:
اللَّهُمَّ اكْشِفْ هَذِهِ الْغُمَّةَ عَنْ هَذِهِ الْأُمَّةِ بِحُضُورِهِ وَعَجِّلْ لَنَا ظُهُورَهُ
Allahumma ikshif hadhihi al-ghummah ‘an hadhihi al-ummah bi-hudurihi, wa-‘ajjil lana zuhurah.
And:
الْعَجَلَ الْعَجَلَ يَا مَوْلَايَ يَا صَاحِبَ الزَّمَانِ
Al-‘ajal, al-‘ajal, ya mawlaya, ya sahib az-zaman.
Likewise, the famous prayer “Ilahi ‘azuma al-bala’” is recited in the language of asking for an immediate and near relief. Recognized Shi‘i sources identify this prayer as Du‘a al-Faraj and a request for the coming of the Imam of the Age, and its text also speaks of urgent relief.
Here several matters must be distinguished. Praying for the removal of oppression, the end of suffering, the guidance of human beings, and the establishment of justice is not blameworthy in itself. The human being has the right to ask God for an opening, to complain of the present condition, and never to lose hope. But the problem begins exactly where the whole responsibility of reforming the world is tied to the presence of an absent person, and the human being suggests to himself that because he is absent, there is no ability or responsibility for foundational reform of the world.
In such a view, society gradually accepts these messages and repeats them to itself:
- We can never build lasting justice.
- Corruption will, in the end, defeat us.
- Human efforts alone are not sufficient.
- The world must reach a stage of absolute oppression in which no path for survival remains except the intervention of a savior.
- In the end, he will come and complete the work that we have been unable to complete.
This expectation, although outwardly it may create hope for people, can inwardly erode the human being’s trust in his moral responsibility and reforming capacity. In this view, the human being descends from being an actor in history to being its spectator. Instead of asking how the flames of corruption can be reduced, he only asks when the appearance will occur. Instead of analyzing the root causes of political and social failures, he sees them as signs of the nearness of relief. Instead of critiquing power and demanding accountability, he waits for a superhuman power to come one day and untie the hard knots overnight.
This style of expectation is also a very useful tool for governments and religious institutions. In this framework, failures can be written off as trials before the appearance; war can be called a sign of the end times; suppression can be named defense of the camp of truth; and poverty and livelihood crises can be introduced as part of the period of trial. In such an atmosphere, instead of measuring the performance of rulers by the scales of justice and competence, people are invited to endure the present condition and pray for an unclear future.
This text in no way says that every Shi‘i who recites Du‘a al-Faraj supports oppression or is irresponsible. In fact, many Shi‘is connect the concept of waiting with moral readiness and action for justice. The main critique is directed at that intellectual structure which hands the change of the world’s destiny entirely to an absent savior and reduces the role of the human being today to prayer and passive preparation.
The fundamental Qur’anic question remains: why should a human being whom the Qur’an warns against haste in matters of the unseen turn the repetition of “‘ajjal” into a fixed litany of worship?
Perhaps the answer would be that this haste is for goodness and justice. But the Qur’an warns precisely that the human being sometimes seeks evil with the same heat and eagerness with which he seeks good. It must be remembered that naming a desire “good” does not guarantee that its effects and consequences in the real world are good.
What the Qur’an Does Not Say
The Qur’an speaks often about Jesus, his mission, his mother, his signs, the opposition of his enemies, and his place with God. But nowhere does the Qur’an say, in a clear and unambiguous phrase, that Jesus will return to earth at the end of history in order to establish a global government, lead an apocalyptic war, or carry out a specific political program in Palestine.
Some interpreters have connected verses such as Al-Imran 3:55, An-Nisa 4:159, and Az-Zukhruf 43:61 with the return of Jesus, but these readings are the result of interpretation, not the direct explicit statement of the verses. There is a great difference between someone deriving a possibility or a reading from a verse and saying that the Qur’an clearly teaches such a belief.
Regarding the Mahdi as well, the Qur’an does not speak of a person with this name, the Twelfth Imam, Sahib az-Zaman, a long occultation, a final appearance, or the worldwide spread of Shi‘i religion. This doctrinal structure rests on reports, theological traditions, and later historical developments, not on the clear statement of the Qur’an.
A person may believe in the return of Jesus or the appearance of the Mahdi on the basis of his own religious sources. The discussion here is not about forcing people to abandon their belief. The issue is scholarly honesty: a belief that the Qur’an has not explicitly stated should not be attributed to the Qur’an with certainty.
When the Qur’an wants to speak of the Resurrection, the Reckoning, rising again, Paradise, and Hell, it does not speak silently or ambiguously. If expectation of an apocalyptic savior were a determining principle in human faith and responsibility, the natural question is why a Book that introduces itself as clarification and guidance did not state it clearly.
Hastening the Unseen and the Inability to Bear Time
The Qur’an repeatedly mentions those who demanded that punishment or the Hour happen quickly. They treated delay as a sign that the promise was false and asked the Prophet to make what he warned them about occur sooner.
يَسْتَعْجِلُ بِهَا الَّذِينَ لَا يُؤْمِنُونَ بِهَا
Yasta‘jilu biha alladhina la yu’minuna biha.
Those who do not believe in it ask for it to be hastened.
Their seeking of haste was not only a verbal request. This behavior showed that they did not have a sound relation with time, knowledge, and outcome. They asked in mockery and haste for something whose reality, if they had seen it, they would never have sought.
The Qur’an says:
وَلَوْ يُعَجِّلُ اللَّهُ لِلنَّاسِ الشَّرَّ اسْتِعْجَالَهُمْ بِالْخَيْرِ لَقُضِيَ إِلَيْهِمْ أَجَلُهُمْ
Wa-law yu‘ajjilu Allahu li-n-nasi ash-sharra isti‘jalahum bi-l-khayri la-qudiya ilayhim ajaluhum.
If God hastened evil for people as they seek to hasten good, their term would have been completed for them.
This verse does not only show God’s mercy in delaying evil. It also reveals the limitation of human understanding. The human being does not always know whether what he desires is finally good or evil. Sometimes delay itself is mercy. Sometimes the fact that a prayer is not fulfilled immediately is the protection of the human being from an outcome he does not yet have the ability to see.
Haste for the return of Jesus or the appearance of the Mahdi must also be measured by this same criterion. Does the human being know exactly what form the fulfillment of what he seeks will take? Does he know whether the prophecies that have reached him are true? Does he know whether the wars, killings, and collapses presented as signs of appearance are part of God’s will? Or has he merely repeated a historical story so often that he no longer sees the boundary between faith and assumption?
Attributing a detailed program to the unseen without knowledge is itself a Qur’anic problem:
وَلَا تَقْفُ مَا لَيْسَ لَكَ بِهِ عِلْمٌ
Wa-la taqfu ma laysa laka bihi ‘ilm.
Do not follow that of which you have no knowledge.
The human being has no right to turn his assumption into God’s certain plan and then sacrifice the rights of living human beings on that basis.
Moses’ Haste and the Insufficiency of Good Intention
One of the important examples of the root ‘a-j-l in the Qur’an is Moses’ statement:
قَالَ هُمْ أُولَاءِ عَلَىٰ أَثَرِي وَعَجِلْتُ إِلَيْكَ رَبِّ لِتَرْضَىٰ
Qala hum ula’i ‘ala athari wa-‘ajiltu ilayka Rabbi li-tarda.
He said: They are close upon my tracks, and I hastened to You, my Lord, so that You may be pleased.
Moses states that his motive is the pleasure of the Lord. His intention is pure. But afterward it becomes clear that his people, in his absence, had fallen into trial.
From this verse one should not conclude that every haste is sin, or that Moses is condemned because of his longing. The point is more delicate: good intention does not make the human being needless of measuring consequences. A person may hasten for the pleasure of God, while still not having seen all the consequences of his decision.
This principle is very important in critiquing apocalypticism. A follower of Christian Zionism may say: my intention is the return of Christ. One who awaits the Mahdi may say: my intention is the establishment of justice. But the ethical question does not end with the declaration of intention.
Does this expectation help justice today?
Does it make the human being more responsible?
Does it make the suffering of others seem small?
Does it present oppression as a prelude to good?
Does it exempt political power from accountability?
Good intention cannot automatically purify an evil result.
The Calf Is Not a Lexical Symbol of Haste, but the Story Is about the Inability to Wait
The word ‘ijl, in one of its uses in the story of the Children of Israel (Al-Baqarah 2:51), means calf. Even so, the structure of this story allows a conceptual reflection: Moses was away from his people for a period of time, and they could not bear the absence of the guide and the difficulty of waiting. They turned toward something that had physical presence, visible, tangible, and sounding: a deity that could be touched and stood before. Divine guidance required loyalty, memory of covenant, and trust; but the calf gave an immediate and sensory answer to their endless anxiety.
At first glance, saviorism today may appear to move in the exact opposite direction of calf-worship, because its subject is a being in the future and absent, not a present and tangible statue. But psychologically, the two may have a similar function. Here too, instead of bearing ambiguity, accepting responsibility, and traveling the difficult path of reform, the human being builds a certain and calming image of the future. This image assures him that someone will come, crush the enemies, end the disagreements, and repair all at once a world that we have been unable to reform.
In the first story, the human being of the Children of Israel grew tired of waiting and made a deity with material presence. In the second story, contemporary human beings grow tired of responsibility and make a savior for the future. In both cases, the difficult path of covenant, awareness, and righteous action is replaced with a ready-made answer.
The Angels Asked; Iblis Rebelled
When God spoke of placing a khalifah on earth, the angels asked:
أَتَجْعَلُ فِيهَا مَنْ يُفْسِدُ فِيهَا وَيَسْفِكُ الدِّمَاءَ
A-taj‘alu fiha man yufsidu fiha wa-yasfiku ad-dima’?
Will You place in it one who will cause corruption in it and shed blood?
This statement of the angels should not be equated with the behavior of Iblis. The angels asked, and after what they did not know was made clear, they submitted. Iblis, however, rebelled out of arrogance and said:
أَنَا خَيْرٌ مِنْهُ
Ana khayrun minhu.
I am better than him.
The angels’ question pointed to one of the real capacities of the human being. The human being can cause corruption and shed blood. History has proven this possibility many times. But God’s answer was:
إِنِّي أَعْلَمُ مَا لَا تَعْلَمُونَ
Inni a‘lamu ma la ta‘lamun.
I know what you do not know.
This answer shows that the truth of the human being is not exhausted by his capacity for corruption. The human being also has the capacity for knowledge, recognition, repentance, creation, justice, reform, and responsibility. His selection for vicegerency is not an unconditional approval of all human behavior; it is trust in his possibility of growth and responsibility.
For further study on this subject, refer to the article The Garden of Eden as a Place of Growth.
Apocalyptic suggestion becomes aligned with satanic logic when it strips this capacity from the human being. This does not mean that every believer in a savior is satanic in character. Rather, it means that an idea can, in practice, produce the same result that satanic whispering wants: the human being loses trust in himself, abandons responsibility, and believes that he is not qualified to reform the earth.
The whisper does not always say, “Commit oppression.” Sometimes it speaks more softly:
You cannot reform the world.
Corruption is inevitable.
Your effort is useless.
Let everything become worse.
Someone else will come.
Your only duty is to wait.
This whisper is very dangerous because it is offered in the language of hope and prayer, while it suggests escape from moral responsibility and makes the human being feel incapable of choosing the path of his own future.
Must the World Be Filled with Injustice?
One of the most common themes in savior narratives is that after the earth has been filled with oppression and injustice, it will be filled with justice and equity through the appearance of the savior. Although this image appears outwardly to be only a report about the future, in the public mind it can have a very dangerous consequence: “oppression” can become a sign that rescue is near.
In this state, when the human being sees corruption, he experiences a kind of double feeling. On one hand, he knows it is evil; on the other hand, he sees it as confirmation of the prophecies and as news of the nearness of the appearance. In such a view, the worse conditions become, the more his apocalyptic hope catches fire.
This logic can place the struggle against corruption in a terrifying inner contradiction. If the filling of the world with oppression is the prerequisite and prelude to the appearance, then is the attempt to reduce oppression actually delaying the appearance? And if moral collapse is treated as a sign of rescue, then is the one who takes a step toward reform, knowingly or unknowingly, moving against the unseen plan? Here this worldview, instead of becoming a motive for reform, becomes an obstacle to responsible action.
The Qur’an does not give corruption such a positive role:
وَاللَّهُ لَا يُحِبُّ الْفَسَادَ
Wa-Allahu la yuhibbu al-fasad.
And God does not love corruption.
And:
وَلَا تَبْغِ الْفَسَادَ فِي الْأَرْضِ إِنَّ اللَّهَ لَا يُحِبُّ الْمُفْسِدِينَ
Wa-la tabghi al-fasada fi al-ard; inna Allaha la yuhibbu al-mufsidin.
Do not seek corruption in the earth, for God does not love the corrupters.
What God does not love can never become a practical goal or a desirable prelude for a believer. The human being is not commanded to make the world more ruined for the appearance of a savior, or to passively endure oppression in order for a prophecy to be completed. No faith obligates the human being to light the fire of war or to turn away from oppression anywhere on this earth, because justice and truth are not dependent on the ruin and destruction of the world; they gain meaning in responsibility and standing against decay.
His duty is reform:
إِنْ أُرِيدُ إِلَّا الْإِصْلَاحَ مَا اسْتَطَعْتُ
In uridu illa al-islaha ma istata‘tu.
I desire nothing except reform as much as I am able.
This verse defines the human being’s responsibility according to his ability. The human being is not required to save the whole world alone, but he is not permitted to abandon possible reform under the pretext that he is unable to achieve complete reform.
Love of the Immediate in Religious Clothing
The Qur’an says:
كَلَّا بَلْ تُحِبُّونَ الْعَاجِلَةَ
وَتَذَرُونَ الْآخِرَةَ
Kalla bal tuhibbuna al-‘ajilah, wa-tadharuna al-akhirah.
No. Rather, you love the immediate, and you leave the Hereafter.
Usually, al-‘ajilah is translated as the worldly life, because this world is the present and near thing. But its core meaning can draw our attention to a deeper sickness: the human being prefers the near result over the distant outcome.
This immediate result is not always money, desire, or power. It may take a religious form.
The human being wants to see a heavenly event during his own lifetime.
He wants his generation to be the chosen generation of the end times.
He wants the truth of his religious group to be proven through an extraordinary event.
He wants his enemies to be defeated in the final battle.
He wants the world to be suddenly transformed without traveling the long path of training, justice, dialogue, education, reforming law, and building healthy institutions.
This too is a kind of love of the immediate: wanting an instant and theatrical victory instead of slow and difficult reform.
Righteous action usually does not carry apocalyptic excitement. Teaching a child, defending an oppressed prisoner, reforming a law, helping a poor family, reducing religious hatred, standing against corruption in an office, treating a patient, and reconciling two people are not grand and heavenly scenes.
But these very actions reform the earth.
The hasty human being becomes tired of this process. Instead of planting, he wants the ready harvest to descend from heaven.
The Qur’an Does Not Leave the Human Being Waiting for Change
One of the clearest principles of the Qur’an is this:
إِنَّ اللَّهَ لَا يُغَيِّرُ مَا بِقَوْمٍ حَتَّىٰ يُغَيِّرُوا مَا بِأَنْفُسِهِمْ
Inna Allaha la yughayyiru ma bi-qawmin hatta yughayyiru ma bi-anfusihim.
God does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves.
This verse does not promise that if a people wait long enough, a person from the unseen will come and change their condition. Outer change is tied to inner change within the people. This change is not only feeling and intention; it is change in awareness, ethics, relationships, habits, structures, and behaviors.
The Qur’an also says:
وَأَنْ لَيْسَ لِلْإِنْسَانِ إِلَّا مَا سَعَىٰ
Wa-an laysa li-l-insani illa ma sa‘a.
And that the human being has nothing except what he strives for.
The human being cannot desire the fruit of justice while handing the striving for it to a future savior. He cannot want peace while producing hatred. He cannot seek just government while turning away from the tyranny near him. He cannot pray for the appearance of a reformer while fleeing from reforming himself and society.
God’s help in the Qur’an is real, but it does not replace human action. God’s support takes meaning on the path of effort and steadfastness, not in the suspension of responsibility.
Speed in Goodness, Not Haste for Collapse
The Qur’an does not blame every kind of speed:
فَاسْتَبِقُوا الْخَيْرَاتِ
Fa-stabiqu al-khayrat.
So race one another in good things.
There is an important difference between racing ahead in goodness and hastening the occurrence of an unseen report.
In racing ahead in goodness, the human being acts himself. He feeds the hungry, helps the oppressed, establishes justice, learns knowledge, builds peace, and reduces corruption.
In apocalyptic haste, the human being seeks the result from outside. He waits for someone else to come, break the structures, defeat the enemies, and establish justice in his place.
The first increases responsibility; the second may transfer it.
The first brings the human being into the field; the second may turn him into a spectator.
The first builds the path with good; the second sometimes justifies the evil of the path by the good of the ending.
Whoever truly wants the coming of justice must race others in justice, not in counting the signs of collapse.
The Final Criterion: What Does This Belief Make of the Human Being?
To evaluate an apocalyptic belief, the only question is not which reports support it. The more important question is what this belief makes of the human being in practice.
Does it make him more sensitive before oppression, or does it treat oppression as part of an unseen plan?
Does it move him toward righteous action, or does it transfer duty to the future?
Does it teach him humility, or give him the feeling that he knows God’s hidden program?
Does it strengthen the sanctity of human life, or does it make victims into the cost of fulfilling prophecy?
Does it make power accountable, or does it present government as the representative and preparer of the appearance?
Does it call the human being to reform himself and society, or does it tell him that the world will become so corrupt that his effort is useless?
A belief must also be known by its fruit. If a religious belief leads to cruelty, escape from responsibility, sanctification of war, and indifference to the oppressed, it cannot be exempted from critique simply because it carries a sacred name.
Righteous action in the Qur’an is not only an action that has a religious appearance. Salih is that which brings about salah: it reduces corruption, makes life healthier, restores trust, strengthens justice, and helps peace and human security.
If expectation of a savior makes the human being more righteous, then he must be more just, more compassionate, more responsible, and more courageous today. But if this same expectation draws him toward enduring oppression, justifying war, religious hostility, and abandoning responsibility, its sacred name cannot hide the bitter truth of its result.
Conclusion
Haste is not only the weakness of someone who decides before thinking. Haste can appear in the clothing of religion, enter prayer, make its way into a political system, and sacrifice human lives to an unseen report.
In one part of Christian Zionism, the return of Jesus is tied to Israel’s control over the land of Palestine, the gathering of Jews, and sometimes the rebuilding of the Temple. When this belief causes occupation, displacement, and the killing of Palestinians to be ignored, it is no longer a harmless personal belief. Here evil is sought in the name of good, and the living human being is sacrificed to the promised end.
In common Mahdism as well, the language of hastening the appearance can lift the responsibility of reforming the world from the shoulders of the human being and transfer it to an absent Imam. When corruption becomes a sign of appearance, crisis becomes a prelude to relief, and human incapacity becomes the principle of history, society becomes accustomed to waiting instead of reform. Prayer takes the place of action, and an unseen future becomes a cover for present failures and injustices.
Neither the return of Jesus with the common apocalyptic scenario nor the appearance of the Mahdi with its well-known details is explicitly stated in the Qur’an. These beliefs are the products of later interpretations and reports, and they should not be equated with the clear text of the Qur’an.
The Qur’an knows the human being as a creature who can cause corruption and shed blood, but it does not limit his truth to this dark capacity. God has made him capable of knowledge, choice, responsibility, and reform. The angels’ question was met with the answer, “I know what you do not know.” It was Iblis who, out of arrogance, refused the dignity and qualification of the human being.
Every suggestion that tells the human being that he is unable to reform, that history is inevitably heading toward complete corruption, and that only an external savior can rescue the world, weakens the human being’s trust in the responsibility that God has placed upon him.
The Qur’an does not tell the human being to wait for collapse.
It does not tell him to hasten toward a final war.
It does not tell him to endure oppression until the savior arrives.
It does not tell him to make the life of the oppressed the cost of fulfilling prophecy.
On the contrary, the logic and teachings of the Qur’an say:
Be just, even regarding a people with whom you have enmity.
Race ahead in good works.
The human being has nothing except the fruit of his striving.
God does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves.
Qur’anic rescue is not born from abandoning responsibility. God can help, open a path, and provide what the human being cannot provide, but He has not turned the human being into a creature without duty.
If someone wants global peace, he must build peace today.
If he wants justice, he must be just today.
If he loves a prophet like Jesus, he must defend the oppressed human being today.
If he awaits a reformer, he must himself be a reformer to the extent of his ability today.
And if he hopes in God’s help, this hope must move him toward action, not toward watching disaster.
The shortest form of this critique is this:
Saviorism turns from religious hope into anti-Qur’anic haste when it transfers human responsibility to the future, presents oppression as a prelude to rescue, and replaces today’s righteous action with expectation of an unseen event.