The Pure Quest

In 1844, Mulla Husayn was returning from a successful journey in which he performed an important and delicate task for his master, Siyyid Kazim. When he returned to Karbila, instead of the joy of a successful completion to his mission, he discovered the sorrow of the passing of his teacher.

After everything settled down, with the visitors expressing their sorrow to him, the time with his teacher's family, and so forth, Mulla Husayn gathered the other students together to hear from them his master's last wishes. They all, each in their own way, told him that Siyyid Kazim had said that the Promised One was here, ready to reveal Himself. They should all, they were told, leave their homes and scatter to the winds, search far and wide in their quest for Him. They would need to, they were advised, purge themselves of all earthly desires and dedicate themselves completely to this pursuit. "Nothing", Siyyid Kazim had told them, "short of prayerful endeavour, of purity of motive, of singleness of mind" would succeed in removing the veils between them and Him.

So then why, Mulla Husayn wondered, have you all remained here in Karbila?

And again, one by one, they each and all, in their own individual ways, gave their excuses. "We must remain in this city", one replied, "and guard the vacant seat of our departed chief." "I have to", said another, "take care of the Siyyid's family." On and on the various reasons came, each pretext seeming reasonable, but failing to recognize the importance of this grand mission before them.

Finally, Mulla Husayn had had enough. He left them to their own devices and idle pursuits, and went off to fulfill the dearest wish of his late master.

How often have we seen something similar in our own lives? There is something great that we hope to accomplish, but it is the innumerable little things that get in our way. If only we can keep firmly in our sight the importance of our own mission, perhaps not as great as finding the Bab, but great nonetheless, then we will discover that everything we hope to do will eventually get done. But if we let those small things distract us, we will still find ourselves right back where we started, never having left the Karbila of our starting point.

An Interesting Question

Last weekend I had the wonderful bounty of attending the Alberta Winter School. Not only was it a good reminder that -20 isn't all that bad when it's dry outside, but I learned a lot, too. And even better, my son was there with me. That was just light upon light, as they say.

During one of the sessions, about being relevant, the idea of an elevated conversation was brought up, and how it wasn't just mentioning a virtue, or saying the words "Baha'i" or "Baha'u'llah", wonderful as that is. No. It was pointed out that a far more relevant example would be if you were talking to two people, one of whom was adamantly pro-guns, and the other extremely anti-guns, and recognized that they were both concerned about security. One is more aware of personal security, while the other is more concerned about communal security. When you raise the discussion to this level, then you help bring them together on a real topic where they can discuss the issue at hand, and not just talk past each other based merely on a sound-bite.

Anyways, it was a very interesting discussion, and a few different points were brought up.

But what really interested me was the gentleman who asked how you would bring together two people arguing over both sides of the abortion issue. First, it was pointed out that it's not "pro-choice" and "pro-life", for the division there is actually artificial. Also, those who are generally "pro-life" are actually "pro-birth", as their interest in the life of the child generally seems to end with their birth, if their stance on other issues is at all accurate.

The discussion on that particular issue didn't really come to any conclusion, other than to dive into it and ask them why they each have their particular stance. Asking questions to learn more about why they believe what they do seemed to be the prevalent conclusion.

But this is not what I really wanted to talk about today. No. This was just an intro to my real story.

You see, dear Reader, the day after the Winter School my son and I went to the mall to meet up with a friend and her son. I hadn't seen my friend in over twenty years, and we were both real excited to get together again. Meeting occurred, lunch was eaten, and a good time was had by all, especially since ice cream and bubble tea were involved. But as always happens, our getting together had to come to an end. It was time for her hubby to pick them up.

So we headed over the pick-up point, and discovered we still had about 10 minutes.

What did we do? We walked into an electronics store. Both our sons are sort of geeks. (Don't tell.)

While the two kinder were looking at various thingies, my friend and I were standing around. One of the employees, Jay, came over and asked if we had any questions.

Now, dear Reader, I must tell you, the friend I met is not a Baha'i, but she sure is conversant with the Faith. And she knows me really well. So when I said that yes I did in fact have a question, she was just waiting to see what I would bring up.

"How would you", I asked Jay, "help bring together in conversation two people who are arguing both sides of the abortion question?"

Jay looked at me a bit curiously, wondering if I was serious or not.

My friend piped in, "You never said the question had to be about electronics."

"Fair enough," he replied, and proceeded to answer the question cogently, coherently, and with a fairly good spiritual insight into the concept of unity. The resultant conversation was pretty awesome. And we learned that the reason he was so good at bringing about unity to differing viewpoints was that he is Hindu and his girlfriend is Muslim. He's had lots of practice.

I often hear people say that it takes time to talk about spiritual ideas, and honestly, I don't know why that would be. When you're given an opening, grab it. Talk about the big issues. Ask the difficult questions. Don't lead with what you believe, because most people don't really care. But when you ask what they believe, or what they would do, then you're off and running. Once they explain their perspective, many will also ask for yours. And you know what? When you ask their opinion first, you often learn a lot.

So I just wanted to share that today. It was a great weekend, and it got me thinking about a difficult issue. The next day when I was innocently asked if I had a question, well, I did. I was still thinking about it.

Now I think I'll make sure that I always have a question on the go.

Oh, and when my son and I walked past the same store the next day, Jay recognized me and remembered the conversation. It had gotten him thinking, too.

Ten Years Ahead

Maybe it's just me, but it seems to me that the Universal House of Justice tends to release compilations and documents and all sorts of wonderful things about ten years before we actually need them.

No. Seriously. Hear me out.

I mean, I realize that my learning curve tends towards the horizontal, but look at it. The compilation on Entry By Troops came out 1994, and when I read it a few weeks later, it was incredible. It was educative, inspiring, visionary, and a whole whack of other awesome adjectives.

Very brief aside: A whole whack? Yeah. Like it whacked me upside the head with all that it pointed out.

Anyways, I read it, studied it, consulted with others about it, and really tried my best to get my head wrapped around a lot of the ideas that were in it. But it wasn't until about 10 years later that it began to be relevant in anything other than a theoretical way.

Tabernacle of Unity? That was released in 2006, and look what happened in 2016. The disparate elements in society became even more schismed, if that's a possible phraseology, than they had been in a very long time. The very desperate need for unity became even more evident than ever.

Over and over again, as I look through recent Baha'i history, this trend of giving us what we need ten years ahead of time just seems to be a real thing and not just my imagination. Whether it's the compilation on the Counsellors, or Women, or Trustworthiness, they all seemed to be there about a decade before it became obvious that we desperately needed to know this stuff. It's like they give us a decade to study before we have to pass the exam.

And so, with each new release, I begin to consult with others, and seriously study what comes out, with an eye to that ten year mark.

So why am I mentioning this? Well, we just received the compilation on the Mashriqu'l-Adhkar back in September of 2017. And while some people call it the compilation on the Temple, I'm not sure that's quite accurate. It's really a lot more than that. It seems to be more about the intimate connection between the Temple and the Baha'i community's service to humanity, this link that joins the concept of both worship and service. And while we all know that it's important, I am wondering what's coming down the line in, oh, about 8 years to which this concept will be pivotal in our communal life. I don't know. I'm really wondering.

And now, just a very short time ago we were given a new compilation of Baha'u'llah's Writings: The Call of the Divine Beloved, a selection of the mystical works of Baha'u'llah.

Interesting.

While we had the eleven valleys, both the Seven Valleys and the Four Valleys, in previous translation, it seems that those translations weren't good enough for our upcoming needs. And the emphasis on the mystical? Well, that just fascinates me.

When I look back at a lot of the teaching materials from, say, the 1950s, there was a great emphasis on the social principals, and not a lot on the mystical side of it. In fact, there seemed to be a bit of a prejudice in much of the literature of the time from the generic Baha'i population that sort of pooh poohed anything that wasn't scientific, sort of saying it smacked of superstition. Oh, and this was not a universal. There were definitely some pretty radical things out there in the Baha'i publication world, but this is more of a general overall feeling. And this whole phase of really pushing away anything that might be superstition lasted for quite some time, prayer being a very notable exception to this rule.

But today, with the extreme rise in those who are not interested in religion at all, over 25% of the population here in Canada, according to recent surveys, and the greater divide between those who support science versus those who are seemingly against science, I am wondering why this recent book. I mean, it seems fairly obvious, in a sort of theoretical way, that we need to embrace the overlap between the scientific and the mystical, but I suspect there is far more than that.

I have to wonder what it is.

So this year, from now to the end of the Fast, I will be reading, studying, consulting with friends, and otherwise exploring this new volume, trying to wrap both my head and my heart around these incredibly beautiful teachings.

Already this morning, while reading it through for the first time over coffee, I found myself drifting off in meditative contemplation, thoroughly enchanted by the beauty of the poetry and the sublimity of the ideas. Even a few people around me asked about what I was reading, which doesn't happen all that often.

So, dear Reader, I would really appreciate any thoughts you have on specific sections, passages you feel particularly attracted to, any aspect of this slender volume that you care to share. I feel that we are all at the very beginning of a thrilling new direction for this wonderful Faith of ours, carefully directed by the Universal House of Justice.

And I, for one, am very curious just why it is that they are giving us, at this particular time, so much more stuff about both the Mashriqu'l-Adhkar and the mystical side of the teachings.

Oh, and if you can show how Gems of Divine Mysteries fits into this concept, I'd love to hear it. I mean, that brilliant work was first published in English in 2002, and as you know, it is kind of the Missing Link between the Book of Certitude and the Seven Valleys, so it seems as if they were easing us into this mystical stuff, but I'm sure there's more.

Maybe if I actually finished my coffee this morning, it would make more sense to me.

Third Time's the Charm

Oh no. It's Thursday already, and I'm leaving for Edmonton tomorrow morning for the weekend, and I haven't come up with a story for this week. What to do?

I know. I'll grab the nearest book about the Bab, Hour of Dawn, flip to a random page and see what comes up.

Ok.

Ready?

Siyyid Yahya, and his first meetings with the Bab.

Hmmm.

Well, Siyyid Yahya was a very famous and influential Mulla in Iran in the 1840s. The Shah had such faith and trust in him that when the news of the Bab began to spread, it was Siyyid Yahya that the Shah sent to investigate the claims. Three interviews were arranged.

At the first one, after courteous greetings, he spoke for two hours asking the Bab about the most difficult and obscure teachings in Islam he could think of. The Bab listened to this entire discourse very calmly, and then, when the Siyyid had finished, replied. Siyyid Yahya was astonished at the simple and clear answers the Bab gave. He was overcome by a sense of shame, feeling his own lowliness before the Bab. He, who had been the centre of attention for so long, now only felt his own mis-placed sense of pride and presumption.

During the second interview, he had prepared a list of further questions he wished to ask, but upon attaining the presence of the Bab, he discovered that his mind was a complete blank. Bewildered, he found that all he could do was ask some trivial and minor questions. But then he was even more astonished to discover that the Bab was answering, with the same clarity and simplicity, those same questions he had actually wanted to ask.

Vowing to approach the Bab with a more appropriate attitude for the third interview, he decided to ask only a single question. He wanted to know if the Bab would reveal a commentary on the Surih of Kawthar, but he decided to ask this only in his heart. He would not voice the question aloud.

As soon as he entered the room for that third interview, he found himself seized with a great sense of fear. He who had faced the Shah many times without the least trace of concern was now so shaken at the presence of this young Siyyidi merchant, the Bab, that he found himself swaying on his feet.

The Bab rose and took him gently by the hand, saying, "Seek from Me whatever is your heart's desire. I will readily reveal it to you."

Siyyid Yahya could not reply.

The Bab smiled and said, "Were I to reveal for you the commentary on the Surih of Kawthar, would you acknowledge that My words are born of the Spirit of God? Would you recognize that My utterance can in no wise be associated with sorcery or magic?"

At this, Siyyid Yahya began to weep. "O our Lord," he quoted from the Qur'an, "with ourselves have we dealt unjustly; if Thou forgive us not, and have not pity on us, we shall surely be of those who perish."

It was then that the Bab called for His pen-case and began to reveal that commentary.

Siyyid Yahya has left us a beautiful description of that time, describing the majesty of the Bab's presence, and the power of His words. But I'm not going to quote it here.

No. What interests me is what we can learn from this.

So often we find ourselves with some knowledge, and feeling a sense of pride on our little bit of learning. I see this over and over again when people are discussing various issues of which they may have a little bit of knowledge, but refusing to admit that someone with years, or even decades, of experience may know more. We often see this when people are discussing hot topics like vaccines or gun control, or even climate change. Someone may read a headline, or research an issue for a few minutes on Google, and suddenly be filled with the ego to claim themselves some sort of expert on the subject.

But really, if we want to learn, we need to accept a recognized authority on the subject. And we need to be humble enough to approach those without that recognized authority in such a manner that we are willing to listen to them, and judge whether or not their argument makes sense.

Siyyid Yahya was a recognized authority. The Bab was not. And Siyyid Yahya's true character emerged not when he questioned the Bab on obscure and minor details, but when he was willing to actually listen to what the Bab really had to say.

Today, we need to be willing to offer that same courtesy, for that's really what it is, to those with whom we disagree, for who knows? They may be right.

But that also doesn't mean just blindly accepting what they say. Siyyid Yahya questioned the Bab first. He tested to see if the Bab really knew what He was talking about. And then, with great humility, he accepted the Bab's superior knowledge and wisdom.

Why, though, was he filled with fear during that third interview? Possibly because he felt that he had not been humble enough during the first two interviews.

And that, dear Reader, is what really stands out to me. I pray that I do not approach any conversation with such haughtiness that I feel that reason for fear later on.

Whew. I'm so glad that book was nearby.

See you next week, dear Friends.

What are You Doing?

It is very interesting to me that when I think of the stories of the early believers, the Babis, I often forget to include Baha'u'llah in that category. He was, however, a Babi. And many of the stories about Him from that time are, as we would expect, just filled with incredible spiritual lessons for today.

One story that struck me when I first heard it was of a time shortly after He received the message of the Bab. He was traveling through Nur, His home province, when He came upon a young dervish by the side of the road, preparing his meal.

Baha'u'llah approached and asked him what he was doing.

"I am engaged in eating God," he replied. "I am cooking God and am burning Him."

This simple and straightforward reply delighted Baha'u'llah, Who began to speak with the youth. In a short time and with great tender affection, Baha'u'llah helped him understand a higher vision of God. The young dervish left behind his cooking utensils and followed Baha'u''llah, chanting prayers and songs of praise to the One who had brought him a new understanding.

"Thou art the Day-Star of guidance," he sang. "Thou are the Light of Truth. Unveil Thyself to men, O Revealer of the Truth."

There is something about that story that always amuses me. Perhaps it is the dervish's original understanding of God being in everything, and therefore he was eating God. I mean, sure, it's not a very good understanding of the nature of God, and Baha'u'llah gives him a better understanding of the true nature of God, but still. He was, in a sense, correct, from his point of view, and wasn't afraid to share this.

I was thinking of this story one day, on my way to a coffee shop. I was heading there to make some of my jewelry, knowing that when I do my work in public, I often meet people who come up and ask me what I'm doing. When you make chainmail fashion designs and jewelry for a living, you get into all sorts of amazing conversations.

So there I was, walking, thinking of this story, when I decided to change my usual answer to the question of what I'm doing.

I got my coffee, and took a seat by a large window. Well, actually I got a mocha, with lots of whipped cream. Mmmmm.

I took out my work board, and began to work, linking my rings together, one at a time. And this man comes up to me, looks at my board, and says, "What are you doing?"

"I'm worshiping God."

"Nice What are you making?"

And this led to me explaining my work, and him joining me for coffee (mocha), and having a very nice conversation. He asked me all sorts of questions about my work, and eventually asked me about my original response. I talked with him about the idea of work done in the spirit of service to humanity being worship, how I use my work to engage people in spiritual conversations.

It was a very interesting conversation that went into many unusual directions.

Finally, after a way too long, I realized that I had no idea what he did for a living.

"Oh, I'm a priest."

And that, dear Reader, led to a very good friendship, quite a bit of interfaith service, and even a few talks in his church.

Testing, Testing...

We love to test people.

There seems to be something in the human makeup that just loves to put things and people to the test, to see whether or not they will satisfy our own criteria, whatever that may be. One of my favorite passages in the book Illusions is when the author is told to see if there is a God, or if the universe is somehow responding to him. He decides to test it by asking for a blue feather. "If there is a God", he seems to say, "then let Him put a blue feather in my path." Shortly after that a truck drives by with a blue feather for its logo. He argues "That doesn't count", but the main character, who told him to try this, says, "But it's a blue feather. You didn't specify that it had to be an actual feather from a real bird."

For some reason, this stuck with me, and I see that sort of "argument" all the time. "Well sure, but that answer doesn't really count." And instead of accepting the answer, recognizing that not all answers come as we may expect, they go on, in this unending loop, to continue to test and try God, or whatever.

A similar thing happened to the Bab. Many people wanted to test or try Him. One example is the man who said that he thought that if the Bab was a true Manifestation, He would look at him. And as soon as he thought that, the Bab did. Then there were those who decided to keep a question hidden to see if the Bab would answer it. Time and again the Bab "passed" these tests, and many became Babis just because of that. Others, however, tested Him but not declare their faith.

One example is the prince who was the governor of Urumiyyih. Now, to be fair, he wasn't really testing to see if the Bab was a Manifestation, he was only testing His courage. But still.

This Prince knew that the Bab was going to go to the public baths while He was staying in that city. And so, being "generous", he offered to let the Bab ride one of his horses to the bath. Now this particular horse was wild and dangerous. Nobody had yet been able to tame it or ride it. In fact, even trying to get on this horse could be a dangerous thing.

The Prince's groom was concerned, and warned the Bab not to ride it. The Bab, however, merely told him, "Fear not. Do as you have been bidden and commit Us to the care of the Almighty." This, of course, was His standard reply. Don't worry about Me, He would always say. I'm in God's hands.

And so the Bab walked through the crowded square, in full view of the throngs who knew of the Prince's plans and wanted to see what would happen. As He approached the horse, He took hold of the bridle and gently caressed it. The horse, to everyone's surprise, stood perfectly still as the Bab mounted him. He then took the Bab calmly to the baths, while the Prince walked beside them.

The crowd of people ran towards Him in order to kiss both the horse and the stirrups, and had to be held back. Later, they also charged the baths to carry away the precious bathwater that this Holy Man had used. And on the way back, the Prince, himself, again walked on foot beside the Bab's horse. Clearly, the Bab had passed this test.

Today, I read this story and think about it, and realize how superficial our meager "tests" can be. It is as the Bab said to Mulla Husayn on the night of His declaration. "It is for God to test His servants, and not for His servants to judge Him in accordance with their deficient standards." The real test, to me, is not about whether or not the Bab, or Baha'u'llah, or God, or Whoever, can satisfy our perplexities, but rather how we respond when They do.