Cultivate Your Garden: Lessons from Voltaire and the Quran
In 1759, at the height of the Enlightenment—when European philosophers preached that reason would perfect humanity and history marched inevitably toward paradise—Voltaire published a novel called Candide to serve as a scathing critique of this naive optimism. In this book, the hero is dragged through every conceivable horror—war, plague, earthquakes, and executions—yet ends not with despair, but with an unexpected answer.
The story culminates in the final chapter, where Candide and his companions find themselves in Turkey, exhausted and disillusioned. Yet, even there, fresh political violence has erupted in Constantinople: two viziers and the mufti strangled, their associates impaled. The city is in chaos.
Walking back to their small farm, they encounter an old Turkish farmer taking the evening air beneath an orange bower. Candide’s companion, Pangloss, ever curious about current events, cannot resist asking: “What was the name of the strangled mufti?”
The farmer answers with calm indifference: “I do not know, and I have never known the name of any mufti, nor of any vizier. Those who meddle in politics die miserable deaths—and they deserve it. I never trouble myself with what is happening in Constantinople; I am content to send there the fruits of the garden that I cultivate.”
He invites them inside. His children serve sherbet, kaimak with candied citron, and Mocha coffee. Afterwards, his daughters perfume the beards of the strangers in an act of warm hospitality.
Astonished, Candide exclaims, “You must have a vast and magnificent estate!”
The farmer replies: “I have only twenty acres. I and my children cultivate them; and our labor keeps us safe from three great evils: weariness, vice, and want.”
Candide reflects deeply on this encounter. This humble farmer, with his twenty acres and his indifference to sultans, is better off than any king. When Pangloss begins to philosophize about all their past suffering, Candide cuts him off:
“All that is well, but let us cultivate our garden.”
In that single phrase, Voltaire captures a profound truth: after all the vanity of politics and the horrors of history, wisdom lies not in trying to rule the world, but in faithfully tending your own soil.
This wisdom—that each soul must cultivate its own righteousness—is also a prominent theme within the Quran. But where Voltaire offers secular philosophy, the Quran speaks with divine authority. And where the farmer’s wisdom brings peace to twenty acres, the Quran’s teachings promise something more: that those who tend the garden of their own soul will find not just security, but joy both in the Hereafter as well as this life.
The question is: in an age that tells us our worth depends on changing the world, can we find the courage to start with ourselves?
You Cannot Guide Others
The Quran strips away any illusion that we can save others. The responsibility of faith is radically individual. No one can carry another’s burden, and no one—not even a prophet—can force guidance upon another soul.
No soul bears the sins of another soul. (35:8)
Even God’s messenger was told:
You cannot guide the ones you love. God is the only One who guides in accordance with His will, and in accordance with His knowledge of those who deserve the guidance. (28:56)
If the messenger, with all his devotion and divine backing, could not compel the heart of even those closest to him, what hope do we have to guide the politicians and elite of this world? The heart of another person lies beyond human reach. Even the deepest love cannot substitute for divine guidance.
The same warning extends to all believers:
O you who believe, you should worry only about your own necks. If the others go astray, they cannot hurt you, as long as you are guided. To God is your ultimate destiny, all of you, then He will inform you of everything you had done. (5:105)
Each person will stand alone before God. Not accountable for the failures of others. Not vindicated by the successes of their community or the leaders thereof. All individuals will be answerable only for their own choices.
All of them will come before Him on the Day of Resurrection as individuals. (19:95)
This is the Quranic parallel to the Turkish farmer’s wisdom. Just as he refused to entangle himself in the fates of viziers and muftis—focusing instead on the fruits of his garden—the Quran calls believers to cultivate their own righteousness. The test of faith is not controlling the world around you. It is tending your own soul with sincerity. Your garden is your own heart and soul. And that is the only soil God has made you responsible for.
The Majority Will Not Believe
The Quran delivers a sobering truth: the crowd is never the standard of faith. The Quran informs us that:
…most people are unappreciative. (2:243)
And that the majority of people will not believe.
Most people, no matter what you do, will not believe. (12:103)
Faith has always been the path of the few, not the many. Even among those who claim belief, sincerity is rare:
The majority of those who believe in God do not do so without committing idol worship. (12:106)
This demolishes the illusion that numbers equal truth. Popularity does not sanctify. Being part of a community—even a believing one—offers no guarantee of salvation. The Quran goes further: it shows that even those closest to revelation betray it again and again.
Consider the Children of Israel. God rescued them from Pharaoh’s tyranny, parting the sea itself for their escape. Yet they faltered at every turn: doubting Moses, demanding to see God directly, worshiping the golden calf while Moses was on the mountain, complaining about manna while longing for Egypt’s luxuries. Being delivered did not make them faithful. Being chosen did not secure their hearts.
Or look at Joseph’s brothers—sons of the prophet Jacob himself. Envy drove them to plot their own brother’s murder. They cast him into a well and deceived their father with a bloodied shirt. If treachery could grow in a prophet’s own household, what hope is there that the majority will remain sincere?
The pattern is unmistakable: the majority cannot be trusted to embody righteousness. Numbers do not sanctify. Tradition does not secure sincerity. Community is no proof of truth. The Quran insists that faith is an individual covenant with God, not a collective inheritance.
This is why the Quran warns that even self-proclaimed believers fall into hypocrisy. The lesson is inescapable: faith cannot be outsourced to the majority. It must be cultivated—like a garden—in each soul.
Why Not Utopia?
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: this world was never meant to be utopia for all of mankind.
Had your Lord willed, all the people would have been one congregation (of believers). But they will always dispute (the truth). Only those blessed with mercy from your Lord (will not dispute the truth). This is why He created them. The judgment of your Lord has already been issued: “I will fill Hell with jinns and humans, all together.” (11:118–119)
The purpose of this world is for us to see the decisions we make that will determine our abode in the Hereafter.
The One who created death and life for the purpose of distinguishing those among you who would do better. He is the Almighty, the Forgiving. (67:2)
The Quran is blunt that most people will not take this life seriously.
Do you think that most of them hear, or understand? They are just like animals; no, they are far worse. (25:44)
God admits those who believe and lead a righteous life into gardens with flowing streams. As for those who disbelieve, they live and eat like the animals eat, then end up in the hellfire. (47:12)
This world is not the destination. It is the proving ground—designed for trial, for exposure, for the separation of sincere hearts from hypocritical ones. Utopia is reserved for the next life, for “gardens beneath which rivers flow,” not for this temporary stage.
This worldly life is no more than vanity and play, while the abode of the Hereafter is the real life, if they only knew. (29:64)
History confirms this design. Nations rise and fall in endless cycles that end in disbelief.
Have they not seen how many generations before them we have annihilated? We established them on earth more than we did for you, and we showered them with blessings, generously, and we provided them with flowing streams. We then annihilated them because of their sins, and we substituted another generation in their place. (6:6)
No empire, no ideology, not even a community that has the Quran in its own language is immune from decline. Utopia on earth is not promised. Struggle on earth is.
The Quran’s insistence that “most people will not believe” is not a bug in the system—it’s a feature. The room for disagreement, the space where people can choose sincerity or hypocrisy: this is intentional architecture. A flawless utopia would leave no arena for the heart to reveal itself, no test to separate those who truly submit from those who merely perform.
…God thus puts you to the test to bring out your true convictions, and to test what is in your hearts. God is fully aware of the innermost thoughts. (3:154)
The hard truth is liberating: the Quran was never meant to create heaven on earth for all of humanity. It was meant to prepare the faithful minority for heaven beyond earth. This world is the field for labor, not the harvest. The garden of sincerity must be cultivated here—and the fruits will be gathered in the Hereafter.
The Personal Nature of Quranic Commands
If the Quran is not designed to create utopia for all humanity, what then is the purpose of its commands? The answer is unmistakable: while the Quran addresses peoples and nations, its injunctions take root at the level of the individual. It calls each soul to reflect, reform, and embody righteousness in daily life.
When the Quran commands one to observe the Contact Prayer (Salat) to remember our Creator, it is not merely drafting rules for collective ritual—it is calling you to stand before God, humbly oriented toward Him. When it commands giving the Obligatory Charity (Zakat), it is not designing an economic system alone—it is urging you to loosen your grip on wealth and remember that provision belongs to God. When it commands honesty, chastity, patience, gratitude, and humility, these are not abstract policies. They are living virtues meant to be cultivated in your daily choices.
Even when the Quran addresses matters of justice—fair trade, truthful testimony, protection of the weak—the commands fall on individual shoulders. You must not cheat. You must speak truth. You must not exploit. Communities are only as sincere as the hearts that compose them, which is why the Quran’s appeal is so direct: “O you who believe.”
This explains why the Quran constantly returns to the heart as the true battlefield:
That is the day when neither money, nor children, can help. Only those who come to God with their whole heart (will be saved). (26:88–89)
No king’s decree, no collective identity, no inherited tradition can substitute for individual integrity before God.
The Quran commands reflection again and again:
Why do they not reflect on themselves? (30:8)
This is a scripture that we sent down to you, that is sacred – perhaps they reflect on its verses. Those who possess intelligence will take heed. (38:29)
The believer is not called to outsource responsibility to leaders, scholars, or the majority, but to look inward, measure themselves by God’s word, and act.
In the end, the Quran is not a constitution for utopia but a curriculum for the soul. Its commands are meant first and foremost to be lived out personally—in worship, in character, in daily conduct. Only when individuals are sincere does a community have light.
But Isn’t This Defeatism?
Some will hear “cultivate your garden” as permission to ignore injustice. As an excuse for apathy dressed up as spirituality. As a retreat from the world’s problems into comfortable piety.
That reading is exactly wrong.
Submission does not mean indifference. The Quran consistently commands believers to advocate righteousness and forbid evil (3:104, 9:71). This includes striving to do good deeds and helping others.
Who would lend God a loan of righteousness, to have it repaid to them multiplied manifold? God is the One who provides and withholds, and to Him you will be returned. (2:245)
However, it is critical to note that this responsibility is personal, first lived out in one’s own integrity and example.
Consider Abraham’s prayer:
Let the example I set for the future generations be a good one. (26:84)
His mission was not to reform empires or engineer social transformation. It was to live so faithfully that his life itself would become a beacon. Influence through embodiment, not coercion.
Or listen to Shuaib:
“O my people, what if I have solid proof from my Lord; what if He has provided me with a great blessing? It is not my wish to commit what I enjoin you from. I only wish to correct as many wrongs as I can. My guidance depends totally on God; I have put my trust in Him. To Him I have totally submitted.” (11:88)
Here is the perfect balance: do what you can, correct what is in your reach, but never imagine you control the outcome.
This is the wisdom captured in the Serenity Prayer:
“God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.”
For submitters, this prayer echoes the Quranic posture exactly.
We act, but without illusion. We contribute where we can, but we do not measure our worth by visible results. We lead by living righteously—by embodying honesty, generosity, and humility in our own dealings. When you make time for the Contact Prayer (Salat) instead of scrolling. When you resist gossip about a colleague. When you give to the poor without broadcasting it. When you speak truth even when lies would profit you. This is how we influence society: not by pretending we can engineer its destiny, but by planting seeds of integrity wherever God has placed us.
The righteous are not responsible for the utterances of those people, but it may help to remind them; perhaps they may be saved. (6:69)
The lesson is twofold: we act, but without illusion. Our responsibility is to try our best in the sphere entrusted to us, and then to accept with serenity whatever outcome God decrees. We cultivate our gardens not as an escape from the world, but as the truest way of serving it.
And to recite the Quran. Whoever is guided is guided for his own good, and if they go astray, then say, “I am simply a warner.” (27:92)
The Reward: Paradise in This Life
The Quran is clear that this world will never be utopia for all humanity. But it also teaches something extraordinary: for those who believe and live righteously, God grants a foretaste of paradise even here—a peace and joy that no worldly turmoil can touch. The Quran informs us that God does not punish arbitrarily.
What will God gain from punishing you, if you became appreciative and believed? God is Appreciative, Omniscient. (4:147)
The believer’s covenant is simple: gratitude and faithfulness. In return, God shields them from the punishments that engulf others.
This promise appears again with even greater force: “Absolutely, God’s allies have nothing to fear, nor will they grieve. They are those who believe and lead a righteous life. For them, joy and happiness in this world, as well as in the Hereafter. This is God’s unchangeable law. Such is the greatest triumph. (10:62–64)
Notice: this is called God’s unchangeable law. Not a hope. Not a metaphor. A guarantee that those who align their lives with Him will taste peace here and now, not only in eternity.
The Bible echoes this truth in Psalm 91:
1 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” 3 Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. 4 He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. 5 You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, 6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. 7 A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. 8 You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. 9 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,” and you make the Most High your dwelling, 10 no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. 11 For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; 12 they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. 13 You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent. 14 “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. 15 He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. 16 With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.”
The faithful are pictured as dwelling under God’s wings, shielded from chaos, protected in ways invisible but unbreakable.
This does not mean a life without trials. It means trials will not master the believer. As God told His servants:
Do not be saddened by their utterances. All power belongs to God. He is the Hearer, the Omniscient. (10:65)
You may face arrows, plagues, or scorn, but your refuge is unshakable.
This is why cultivating your garden is not resignation—it is trust in action. To live in gratitude and faith is to carry a pocket of paradise wherever you go: in your home, in your work, in your worship. To find refuge while the world rages. To know joy while the majority stumbles. To walk with the assurance that the Most High is your fortress.
God promises those among you who believe and lead a righteous life, that He will make them sovereigns on earth, as He did for those before them, and will establish for them the religion He has chosen for them, and will substitute peace and security for them in place of fear. (24:55)
If we cultivate the garden of our soul. God will make paradise bloom within it.
Surely, those who believe, those who are Jewish, the Christians, and the converts; anyone who (1) believes in GOD, and (2) believes in the Last Day, and (3) leads a righteous life, will receive their recompense from their Lord. They have nothing to fear, nor will they grieve. (2:62 & 5:69)
Conclusion: Cultivating the Garden of the Soul
Voltaire ended Candide with the wisdom of a Turkish farmer who ignored palace intrigues and found peace in cultivating his own land. The Quran delivers the same lesson with divine authority: we are not tasked with remaking the world into utopia, for this world was never meant to be paradise. We are tasked with tending the soil of our own lives, guarding our integrity, and meeting God with a sound heart.
But this is not apathy. The Quran commands us to advocate righteousness and forbid evil, to live as examples of honesty, gratitude, and sincerity. Abraham prayed, “Let the example I set for the future generations be a good one” (26:84). Shuaib declared, “I only wish to correct as many wrongs as I can. My guidance depends totally on God” (11:88).
The responsibility of the believer is to act faithfully within the sphere God has entrusted them—family, work, community—while recognizing that the outcome lies with Him alone. We change what we can. We accept what we cannot. We trust God to know the difference.
And in this striving, there is reward even now. “God’s allies have nothing to fear, nor will they grieve… for them, joy and happiness in this world, as well as in the Hereafter. This is God’s unchangeable law” (10:62–64). To believe and live righteously is to walk in refuge, to find joy no matter the turbulence of history. As Psalm 91 declares, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”
This is the promise: not freedom from trials, but freedom from fear.
The balance is the essence of submission. We act where we can. We trust God with what we cannot. And we know that in both, His protection is sure. We cultivate our gardens—the soil of our hearts and the sphere of our lives—while entrusting the harvest to God.
Voltaire gave the last word to a Muslim farmer: “We must cultivate our garden.”
The Quran gives the last word to each of us: Cultivate the garden of your soul, do your part with integrity, and walk in the peace of knowing that God will make paradise begin even here, and complete it forever in the life to come.
O people, enlightenment has come to you herein from your Lord, and healing for anything that troubles your hearts, and guidance, and mercy for the believers. (10:57)
