It is a privilege from Allah to offer this essay in memory of Fethullah Gülen, concerning one of the critical subjects of his teaching, preaching and scholarship over the years: education as the foundation for becoming fully human and fulfilling one’s proper place within civil society in an otherwise increasingly fractured world.

There are many models of education extant. They variously focus on the professional operation of schools, or curriculum planning, or methods of pedagogy. Others are directed to more immediate student-related needs and goals, and take labels like behaviorist, cognitivist, or humanistic models of teaching and learning. But one ancient model, today frequently neglected—though found across Jewish, Christian and Islamic societies, is education as formation of conscience.

What is conscience? It is an internalized manner of being, attendant upon the embodied virtues of purity and prosperity (as understood in their classical usage: embodied as internalized personhood of the soul; purity as undefiled/unmixed; and prosperity as moving towards hope), and so is well-formed. As noted by Thomas Merton, a mature and prudent conscience gives one an accurate account of motives, intentions and acts, while an immature conscience “is not its own master. It is merely the delegate of the conscience of another” person or group or party or social class or nation or race, parroting the decisions of others (No Man is an Island, pp.27-28). Echoing this concern about immature consciences—especially amongst the young—is Fethullah Gülen’s observation that “new generations are [to be] raised up in the integrity of both heart and mind. But the youth of our time have been born into inauspicious bosoms of neglect. They find themselves in the midst of ruthless leaders, deadly ideologues, and debilitating media” (So That Others May Live, p.125). Their consciences are not properly formed and hence cannot truly be free.

What is freedom of conscience? It is the freedom imparted that permits one to choose to serve without seeking reward or recompense; to spend and be spent for all (the hope of prosperity and purity redoubled in the pure self-forgetfulness of embodied giving) in recognition of and profound thanksgiving to, the One who enables, looking for nothing in return. It provides the foundation for excellence in leadership and is the essence of an internal peace that is neither self-referential nor subject to external constraints or circumstances. This peace can never be taken away. As evidenced in the narratives that focus our attention on the enduring constancy and patience of Job (Ayyub), those whom God sets free are free indeed.

How is this truly free, well-formed conscience to be realized? Education. But not just any form or manner of education will suffice. A prime example is the classical formation of educated citizens, achieved through the trivium and quadrivium curriculum—the seven classical liberal arts—comprising grammar, logic, and rhetoric (representing the acquisition of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom), alongside arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy (reflecting the relationships of number, space, and time). They are called the “liberal” arts because they are “freeing” and form the foundation of freedom; they are “arts” because they encompass more than techniques or methods, embodying critical content that must be internalized. They are “seven” to signify completeness—the fulfillment of the foundational education for citizenship, to which other studies, disciplines, skills, techniques, and professions may be added. In this approach to learning, teaching, and mentoring, what is knowable and verifiable in the Book of the Universe is enabled by the Creator.

Schools established and served by those influenced through the example and teachings of Fethullah Gülen, or Hizmet Schools, seek to provide just this sort of education for formation of conscience, at all levels. Whether the schools are for elementary, secondary or college and university level students, instruction covers the classical liberal arts. The humanities and sciences (social and physical, theoretical and experimental) are diligently presented and absorbed. Likewise, religion is purposefully not a subject of the curriculum: how to live as a member of a pluralistic civil society is modeled by staff through genuinely attentive love, conveying academic excellence as a joyful experience shared amongst students and teachers, alike. What specifically one is to believe and practice—what religion to choose and rites to observe, if any—is left to the developing freedom of the student under the guidance of parents and guardians. We have here real education for citizens, not propaganda for sentimentality. That these schools also are ever mindful to reach underprivileged students in order to help lead them into civic life from which they would otherwise be estranged is highly commendable. The schools can pursue this outreach just because of their being supported so generously by increasing numbers of business leaders and entrepreneurs of faith in many countries, who understand that the opportunity to support educational institutions like these is itself an expression of freedom of conscience: willingness to spend and be spent for all, in self-forgetfulness, looking for nothing in return.

An insightful exploration of this form of education is displayed in the 2014 documentary film Love is a Verb, produced and directed by Terry Spencer Hesser. It demonstrates how love is indeed what one does rather than simply what one feels; what one is willing to sacrifice for the sake of the other; not sentimental wishing that things were otherwise. And that includes what one is willing to commit to for the sake of educating the next generation. As Gülen observes: “If we succeed in adorning the minds of the youth with the sciences of their time and instilling in their hearts the divine virtues, if we can teach them to view the future through the prism of history, our efforts will not have been in vain. Instead, we will reap much in return: every penny spent on education of the youth will return to us as the wealth of cultured souls” (So That Others May Live, p.130).

Political community should itself commend and aim to support such selfless economic activity as a matter of sustainable peace in civil society. As noted by Pope Francis in a recent exhortation: “The worship of the golden calf has returned in a new and ruthless guise in the idolatry of money and the dictatorship of an impersonal economy lacking a truly human purpose” (Evangelii Gaudium, Nov 2013, 55). Only by rejecting “an economy of exclusion and inequality” (paragraph 53), such as evidenced by direct financial and operational support of educational institutions, and of students through scholarships, through selfless volunteering of time, talent and treasure, will inclusion across social groups increase in civil society, along with equality between persons in political community. Such is one fulfillment of the Jewish call to engage in tikkun olam, repairing the world. This is the tapestry of well-formed consciences and sustainable peacemaking that is finally the hallmark of Gülen’s interfaith dialogue initiatives. This is the hope-filled legacy bequeathed through Fethullah Gülen and Hizmet educational institutions around the world.