That Sublime Station: Kitab-i-Aqdas, paragraph 1

One of my favorite things to do in life is study the Writings with my wife. Every week now, for the next number of months, we will be sitting in a cafe for a couple of hours while my son is partaking in his junior youth group. Last year we studied The Four Valleys, and just as the group was winding up for the summer, and my weekends were taken over by my booth at the market, we were just finishing it up.

Our question this year was what we wanted to study now. Our decision? The Kitab-i-Aqdas. After all, go big or go home, right?

But before I get into our study, I want to contextualize it a bit for you, dear Reader.

First of all, I have a very treasured memory of this book that I want to share. I can remember so clearly the very first time I ever read it. Of course, like many of us, I had read a number of passages previously, but the whole text was officially released for the first time in English during the Holy Year, 1992 - 1993. And I remember the very day that it came out. I had the incredible bounty of living near the Temple just outside Chicago, and was able to walk over there to the bookstore and get 2 copies that day.

Now at that same time I was working at the US National Centre. And every year, around that time, there was a 24-hour prayer vigil at the Temple for race unity. I had noticed, a few years earlier, that nobody signed up for the wee hours of the morning, so I would sign up from midnight to six am, "yawn prayers", and ask friends to join me. And they did. Every year we would gather in the parking lot with coffee, donuts and cookies, and 2 of us would be in the Temple. One would pray at the podium, while the other would wait until they were ready for a break. Then they'd switch, and the first would come out and get someone else to sit and wait.

But that year, I had just picked up my copy of the Aqdas either that day, or the day before, I can't recall. Either way, when midnight came around, a group of us had gathered in the Temple and I got up and began to read it, for the very first time, out loud, at the podium. We all sat there enraptured. I got about 3/4 the way through it before my friend, Denise, had to take over. That, as far as I'm aware, was the first time that the Kitab-i-Aqdas had been read aloud, in its entirety, in the Temple.

Every time I have read that monumental book since then, I always remember that night, and the friends that were with me, sharing in that beautiful experience.

Ok, so that's the first thing.

The second little bit of context is from my wife. Early on in her Baha'i experience, one of the friends had said something to her about how people had to be Baha'i, or "all their good deeds were worth nothing". As you can imagine, this went against all that she knew of the basic teachings of the Faith. When she asked about it, the friend showed her the first paragraph of this book, as if it were a weapon to somehow defend the superiority of the Baha'i Faith. She was very uncomfortable, but, wisely, didn't argue about it. She came home and we talked about it, and then proceeded to write the Universal House of Justice. Their response was to send us, many months later, One Common Faith. As I said to her at the time, I don't think this great letter was written specifically for us. I think they must have received many such letters, enough to warrant the commission of that document, and that we were just one of many who had written in with similar questions.

Ok. So, with all this as a basic background into our personal history, we dove into the first two paragraphs this morning. Today, I'm only going to share a bit about the first one. Hopefully I'll get to adding more about our little study soon, but I won't promise anything.

Here is paragraph 1 of this incredible book:

The first duty prescribed by God for His servants is the recognition of Him Who is the Dayspring of His Revelation and the Fountain of His laws, Who representeth the Godhead in both the Kingdom of His Cause and the world of creation. Whoso achieveth this duty hath attained unto all good; and whoso is deprived thereof hath gone astray, though he be the author of every righteous deed. It behooveth everyone who reacheth this most sublime station, this summit of transcendent glory, to observe every ordinance of Him Who is the Desire of the world. These twin duties are inseparable. Neither is acceptable without the other. Thus hath it been decreed by Him Who is the Source of Divine inspiration.

As you can imagine, there is much that we found to discuss.

While we talked about all sorts of things, what really left us feeling elated was when we focused on the phrase "this most sublime station".

Our initial thought was that it referred to Baha'u'llah's sublime station, but in the context of the sentence it didn't make sense. After all, only Baha'u'llah can possibly reach that sublime station. Upon re-reading, though, we realized that it obviously is referring to the station of the believer, the one who actually recognizes "Him Who is the Dayspring of His Revelation and the Fountain of His laws, Who representeth the Godhead in both the Kingdom of His Cause and the world of creation".

Of course, from there, we were then wondering why this would be considered the "most sublime station". What does it mean? In fact, what does the word "sublime" mean? Perhaps, we thought, that might shed some light on this. As you probably know, it means "of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe". You mean we can attain a station of such excellence, grandeur, and beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe? Wow.

Oh, but wait a second, inspire admiration or awe in whom? In oneself.

Well that sounds pretty good, awesome, in fact. But what would it look like? We're not really sure, but looking back at the first few sentences, we had to ask ourselves if we really do recognize Baha'u'llah. And honestly, no, we don't. We believe that His station is too grand for us to truly recognize Him. We catch glimpses of His station, faint glimmerings of His grandeur, mere impressions of His true position in creation. Occasionally, rarely, we may get a hint of this, and that is when we feel as if we have been lifted to what we can only describe as a sublime station. It is as if we have been granted access to this, however briefly, and come away feeling a profound sense of gratitude.

Personally, I am reminded of an exercise I did years ago, in which I tried to imagine myself standing next to the Sun. I began by seeing myself standing there and the sun shining brightly in the sky. Of course, as you know, that meant I was quite far from it. And so I began to see the sun getting bigger and bigger, but as long as I was still standing there, in my imagination, I knew that I had to be far, far from the sun. It wasn't until I began to see myself getting smaller and smaller that I realized just how tiny I would have to be, in comparison.

I could easily imagine myself sitting at the table while my wife and I talked. I could even imagine myself, as seen from above, in the village in which we were enjoying our study. When I saw British Columbia from above, though, I could no longer really imagine myself sitting there. I was just too small in relation to the entirety of the province. Now I had to go further out to the whole country, the entire planet. Not a chance. I wasn't even a blip any more. And just how tiny is the earth in comparison to the sun? Okay. We're talking ridiculously small and insignificant, trying to imagine myself next to the sun.

The only way that I could even begin to imagine myself next to the sun was to envision myself as so tiny that I was truly insignificant.

And now, what about Baha'u'llah? When I try to imagine the grandeur and majesty of Baha'u'llah, the reality is I can't. Someone may be reading my ponderings right now, obviously, and they may read them a few years from now. Perhaps. And it is quite possible, though unlikely, that they may still be read a few years after I die, but I doubt it. I can't even imagine that anyone would know my name in a hundred years, with the remote possible exception that my descendants may say, "Oh yeah, Mead and Marielle were the first Baha'is in our family." But even that is unlikely.

Now, how I can even begin to imagine Baha'u'llah? His Cycle is destined to last at least half a million years. This is so far beyond my ability to imagine, how can I begin to think that I may have "recognized" Him?

Of course, not fully recognizing Baha'u'llah is not a bad thing. It is just a reality. I will continue to strive to better recognize Him, and, of course, probably fall far short, but that's ok. It's not about the destination, as they say, but rather about the journey. We believe that when Baha'u'llah says whoever is deprived of truly knowing Him has "gone astray", it doesn't mean that we are hopelessly lost, just that we will take longer to get there. And honestly, that's ok, too. Our job is to try and better know Him, and the closer we get to that "sublime station", well, the better off we are.

And in the end, that journey of recognition is our own. We can neither judge, nor compare that journey to anyone else's.