We ran out of regular coffee, hence drinking instant this morning (Pampa brand from Mexico). The smell of this brand takes me back to Haifa, where I went on Pilgrimage a year ago. The B&B we stayed in had an electric kettle and kept us well-stocked with packages of instant coffee. On mornings where we had to get moving before the cafe downstairs opened, that was my wake-up.
View of the cafe from our balcony, November 22, 2010.
There are now many worthy biographies of Bahá'u'lláh available to both the casual and serious student. Choosing from among them can be difficult; thankfully, there is enough diversity of perspective, and a rich enough body of source material, that one is enriched by reading several of them. Dr. David Ruhe's Robe of Light: The Persian Years of Supreme Prophet, Baha'u'lllah hones in on Mírzá Husayn Alí's life before He became the "Supreme Manifestation" — as a youth, and particularly as one of the foremost Bábís. That he does so in a relatively objective and scientific manner gives his work an additional refreshing lens through which to gaze on the life and teachings of Bahá'u'lláh.
Letter to Congresswoman McCollum, and Senators Franken and Klobuchar:
The recent harrowing arrest of faculty and administrators of the Baha'i Institute for Higher Education in Iran has once again highlighted the subtle and extreme actions in which the current Iranian government is willing to engage in order to suppress the free expression of worship by the Baha'is of Iran.
This world is sadly riven with manifest injustice, often in the form of a government's abuse of its own people. Our most potent weapon against injustice is truth, in speech and deed. In a free land, who can deny that the treatment of the Iranian Baha'is -- unable to administer their affairs, to attend the official schools, to gather in communal worship of that same God to whom most of the world's peoples turn in prayer -- is unjust and unworthy of any nation?
When I became a Bahá'í in the 90s, perhaps the second deliberate change I made (prayer being the first) was to act with greater respect and appreciation towards my parents. I have long remembered that there was a particular passage that prompted this change; the "Bahá'í Faith" quote service on Facebook has brought that long-sought quotation back to me today:
A particular comment in Louis Gregory's biography struck me as illustrating the combination of personal responsibility and material detachment in Reinhold Niebuhr famous 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."
It was about three years ago, while attending a conference at Green Acre Bahá'í School in Eliot, Maine, that I had the bounty of making a sunrise pilgrimage to the burial site of Louis Gregory, Hand of the Cause of Bahá'u'lláh. At the time I knew little about him — that he was an early African-American adherent of the Bahá'í Faith, a fantastic and tireless teacher, well-loved by 'Abdu'l-Bahá, and thanks to the Master’s encouragement, one-half of perhaps the first black/white Bahá'í marriage in the U.S.
A friend asked about the need for the concept of "fear of God" in the Baháí Faith. Can one be a Baháí without it? More generally, do Baháís accept that there can be compassion and altruism without this "fear"? I found the simple answer today: no (read on for the references). But as with so many concepts, it seems important to dig into the words, exploring their literal and symbolic meaning both inclusive of and apart from our pre-conceived notions.
While it was unfortunate that we were not able to see the Shrine of the Báb in all its golden-domed grandeur (covered over during on-going rehab), we had the bounty of being only the third pilgrim group to visit the restored Ridván Garden outside of 'Akká. The Bahá'í World News Service has an excellent article, from October 2010, on the restoration work and the history of the garden: Holy place restoration sheds light on region's heritage.
It is indeed a beautiful and calming place, and one can well imagine the relief of leaving the horrid conditions of the city to spend a few hours in joyful company on the island. This entire complex is filled with trees and plants descended from those brought across the deserts by pilgrims from Persia (as mentioned somewhere in The Chosen Highway), particularly cypress, pomegranate, and various citrus fruits (the tangerines were ripe and wonderful!). The peace and tranquility in this site, which is only a few hundred yards from apartment buildings, could easily send one into a rapturous state.
A friend recently told me about this passage from the collection of Bahá'u'lláh's writings called Prayers and Meditations. In Facebook conversation I've been talking about my limited and impersonal understanding of "God". This passage might seem a bit paradoxical to that viewpoint, at first glance. The paradox is because of my inability to precisely describe the nuance of a belief that lies somewhere between the poles of atheism and personal theism, without recourse to philosophical language (the best "school of thought" to describe my own core belief has always been panentheism).
In responding to a friend about the nature of the "god concept" in the Bahá'í Faith, I began to collect a number of passages and add a few comments as to why I chose them. And then I found this hitherto unknown (to me) statement from 'Abdu'l-Bahá. It could not be more plain, and completely justifies what a fellow Bahá'í once said to an atheistically-inclined friend: "I don't believe in the same God you don't believe in."
