In the choked streets of Tehran and across the windswept plains of Iran, a profound and terrible inversion is taking place. A regime, cloaked in the mantle of divine authority, points a bloody finger at its own people and declares them “mohareb”—enemies of God. This is the most sacred accusation, a verdict that carries with it not just imprisonment, but the sanction of death. It is a claim uttered from pulpits and broadcast on state television, a divine fatwa against those who dare to demand bread, dignity, and freedom.
But let us strip away the gilded rhetoric and examine this charge in the cold light of truth. Who is the true enemy of God? Is it the young woman who pulls a compulsory hijab from her head, not in defiance of the divine, but in defiance of the earthly men who have weaponised it to control her? Is it the father who weeps for a child killed by a sniper’s bullet, his grief a prayer more honest than any uttered by a cleric in the service of a tyrant? Is it the student who writes of liberty on a wall, knowing the midnight knock may follow?
Or is the enemy of God the one who hoards the nation’s wealth while children go to bed hungry? Is it the one who builds prisons to house the poets and the thinkers, those who bear the very spark of divine creativity? Is it the one who orders his security forces to open fire on unarmed crowds, staining the sacred earth with the blood of the faithful? The halls of power in Tehran echo not with true prayer, but with the whisper of corruption and the clinking of ill-gotten gains.
Too often, history has been a somber library, filled with the tomes of such hypocrisy. Evil has always craved the legitimacy of the divine. From the Inquisition to the witch trials, from the Crusades to the modern caliphates of terror, we have seen men with hearts full of darkness masquerade as agents of light. They take the pure, life-affirming tenets of faith—compassion, justice, humility—and warp them into instruments of oppression. They become whitewashed sepulchers, beautiful and pious on the outside, but filled on the inside with the bones of their victims.
The Iranian regime is a chilling new chapter in this old, grim book. They are the ultimate hypocrites. They pervert a faith that champions the poor and the orphan into a system that enriches the powerful and crushes the vulnerable. They use the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, to legitimise merciless and uncompassionate acts. They have committed the ultimate blasphemy: they have placed themselves in the seat of God, claiming the right to judge and to kill.
The people protesting in the streets are not enemies of God. They are His most potent witnesses in a world darkened by tyranny. Their cries are not heretical; they are the purest form of prayer, a desperate plea for the justice that any true God would demand. Their courage is a testament to a faith far more profound than the rote obsequiousness demanded by the state. They carry no weapons but their conviction; their only armour is the righteousness of their cause.
The true enemies of God are those who murder in His name, who impoverish His people, and who silence the voices He gifted with speech. They are the tyrants who build their thrones on the graves of the innocent. The Iranian people, in their brave and heartbreaking struggle are fighting not against God, but for the very soul of what it means to be human—a spark of the divine itself. Their chant is the truest hymn, a song of life in the face of a death-obsessed regime, a prayer that history will answer with freedom.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 