The Virgin Birth

“How would you try to convince an agnostic about the truth of the Virgin Birth?”

My initial response was “Why would I want to?” In fact, I responded with that famous quote from Baha’u’llah, “Be anxiously concerned with the needs and exigencies of the age in which ye live.” Whenever I am asked to dwell on these abstract issues of faith, the issues that are really a matter of personal belief, I am reminded of that quote. It was initially written in response to a number of such questions, and when the person lovingly said that his questions were not answered, Baha’u’llah pointed out that this statement was His answer. If you read the second letter in The Tabernacle of Unity you will see what I mean.

But it’s a serious question, the one about “Why would I want to?” After all, when we spend so much time and energy on an issue, we really need to ask ourselves why. I’ve thought about this quite a bit in the past few days, as the one who asked me wrote back trying to get a more solid answer about parthenogenesis, the nature of miracles, and so forth.

Then, last night, I did what I usually do when faced with such questions. I asked my son for his input.

Here, I am going to attempt to capture some of the salient thoughts we shared back and forth. And you, dear Reader, have had the bounty of seeing his responses grow and develop over the years, so you already know how insightful his answers can be.

To start, let’s look at the initial question itself, that of the Virgin Birth. Baha’u’llah says that it is true, so there is that. But if one does not accept Baha’u’llah’s word as truth, so what? What good does that do? It’s in the Bible, the Qur’an, and the Baha’i Writings, but they don’t take any of those as fact, so we cannot fall back on that argument.

How about science, then? Parthenogenesis is a thing. It happens in nature. We have seen it in insects, birds, and even in mice. So we know it is possible.

Ok, but so what? It’s scientifically possible, but not re-creatable, and certainly not provable in the past.

The real question here is what difference does it make in our life today. Some have said it is the foundation of their belief in Jesus. Ok, but I would argue that this puts one’s faith on a shaky foundation. After all, as ‘Abdu’l-Baha said so well, “miracles cannot be a conclusive proof, for even if they are valid proofs for those who were present, they fail to convince those who were not.”

Beyond this, Baha’u’llah Himself said, in Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, “We entreat Our loved ones not to... allow references to what they have regarded as miracles and prodigies to debase Our rank and station, or to mar the purity and sanctity of Our name.” To me, this implies that our focus should not be on what we think of as miracles, but rather on the teachings, for these are what will bring about a new world and a new civilization. It is the teachings of Jesus that transformed the world, not His lineage. By shifting the focus to the miracles, we often forget the teachings.

Another question that it raises, as implied by the initial quote from Baha’u’llah about needs and exigencies, is does it change how we treat our neighbour? Does our belief, or lack thereof, in the Virgin Birth, or any other miracle, affect our treatment of others? Does it somehow affect the society-building power of the Faith? If so, please tell me how, because I don’t see it.

Moreso, does someone else’s belief, or lack, affect how you treat them? Does their stance on that point somehow alter the way the Faith goes about building this new civilization?

When I was reading the Kitab-i-Iqan, that seminal work of Baha’u’llah’s in which He carries the Uncle of the Bab from not recognizing his Nephew to being a confirmed believer, there was a simple quote early in the book that caught my attention. In the course of His argument, Baha’u’llah is briefly talking about the Messengers of God the Uncle already recognizes. He refers to them in a simple manner and quietly shows what they all have in common. For example, when He refers to Noah, He never mentions the Flood. He talks of Noah’s sufferings, instead, for that is what is common between them all. But then, in middle of that paragraph, He says, “Finally, as stated in books and traditions, there remained with Him only forty or seventy-two of His followers.” “Forty or seventy-two”? Why doesn’t He state which one it was? Surely He knew, right? But then, as I asked myself these questions, I realized that it doesn’t matter. It literally makes no difference whatsoever. But some people firmly believe one, and some firmly believe the other, depending on their “books and traditions”. If He stated one or the other as correct, He’d be putting a barrier between the others and His truth. Baha’u’llah very simply sidesteps the whole issue by acknowledging that both are “stated in books and traditions”.

The more I consider this simple evasion of a potentially contentious issue, the more wisdom I see in it.

The number of Noah’s followers is so completely irrelevant to anything today that we should not waste any time even considering it. Your belief of one of those numbers over another has no effect whatsoever on my relationship with you, or at least it shouldn’t. And if it does, why? If we believe differently on this point, does it mean that either of us is less compassionate? Does it mean that either of us is any less worthy of respect? Could it possibly mean that the prayers of either of us are any less important than that of anyone else on the face of this planet?

To me, this is how I see the issue of the Virgin Birth. I do not think I have ever said to anyone, my wife included, whether or not I believe this particular point. I have repeated what I have read in the Bible. I have pointed out to others what Baha’u’llah and ‘Abdu’l-Baha say about it. But I don’t think I have ever conclusively told anyone “This is what I believe about it”, for I think it is a personal issue and has no bearing at all on anything else.

Now, given all that, why on earth would I want to even consider trying to convince anyone else one way or another? Their belief in it is their own, and I will accept it as is. If it helps them appreciate Jesus more, great. Now let’s focus on His teachings.

One last point to consider.

If I found a bit of gold in an area, I would continue to look around for some more. The best place to find gold is in a gold mine. But if someone said someplace was a gold mine, and I found no gold there, I would question it.

Modern society has done a lot to demonstrate the complete irrelevance of religion. So much of what passes for religion has no bearing on our daily life, like the issue of the Virgin Birth. It has gotten to the point where the countless arguments about religion have become a source of ridicule. “How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”

We have successfully managed to forget that these ancient Books have taught so many such great wisdom and morality throughout the ages. These ridiculous arguments have overshadowed all else that many are convinced that there is no gold in these mines, so to speak.

My job, I believe, is to remind people of the great learning to be found in these texts. And I’ll tell you, pointing to these irrelevancies defeats that purpose.

Rather than trying to convince someone of some obscure point of theology, an interpretation of a single word in the sacred books, a point that in my mind falls squarely under the category of “beginning with words and ending with words”, I would far rather direct their attention to the countless gems of wisdom that lie within the Writings. I would prefer to spend my time talking with them about the issues that will help build a new and more vibrant civilization. It is of far greater importance to me to explore the teachings about human behaviour and the needs of society.

By directing their attention to the powerful teachings of the Faith that can impact the direction of our society, perhaps they will help me uncover aspects of the teachings I had never seen. And maybe, just maybe, we will both come to appreciate the Writings a bit more.

A Matter of Perspective

"But what about Heaven and Hell?"

The question was was a good one. Most of us, when we hear people talk of heaven and hell, think of places. Heaven we may see as a delightful place amongst the clouds, while hell would be a fiery pit of torture beneath the ground. Some may think of heaven as a beautiful field with brightly coloured flowers, animals playing and perhaps a sweet water river flowing gently throughout. Hell would be a desolate desert with people dying of thirst and vultures flying overhead. Many think of heaven peopled with winged angels, adorned with halos and harps. Hell would be filled with devilish red demons with tails, pitchforks, and maybe a banjo. Well, maybe not a banjo, but I think it's a distinct possibility.

For most of us, the imagery we have of heaven and hell is often inspired by popular culture handed down from Medieval Christianity, built from concepts dating back to earlier days of desert tribes, filtered through European Renaissance paintings, and on and on. This vision of both heaven and hell as two distinct and dichotomous places influences so much in our society, whether or not we are consciously aware of it. The very concept of salvation versus damnation has set the stage for our "right and wrong" way of viewing things.

The Baha'i Writings, on the other hand, are not as clear cut. First, neither are viewed as a place. They are seen more as a matter of perspective. "But the paradise and hell of existence", says 'Abdu'l-Baha, "are found in all the worlds of God, whether in this world or in the spiritual heavenly worlds." Shoghi Effendi more simply states "Heaven and hell are conditions within our own beings."

What are we to make of this? How can two such extremes be merely a matter of our own perspective? And how can this concept affect our life?

Let's begin with a simple set of examples.

If I wanted to describe heaven, I would probably say a place of joy and peace, where I learn more about the world around me, somewhere where I have a meaningful job to do and I strive to accomplish it with tremendous enthusiasm. And the more I sit here and try to write more about it, the more I realize that I really am describing my own feelings, rather than a place itself.

So how about if I try to visualize an actual location? What would be a truly amazing place for me, a veritable heaven on earth? Well, to be honest, a bookstore, or maybe a library, in which I could sit and read to my heart's content. There would be people around, too, with whom I could talk about what we are all reading. Oh, and with a free coffee bar. That would probably be asking too much, though, wouldn't it? Well, it is my heaven, after all, so free lattes. But in the end, it would not just be sitting and reading. I would find that a bit boring. No, I would need to be reading about things that I could put into action to help make the world a better place, and then be able to go out and actually do it. That would be heaven, to me.

Now imagine if I was stuck in a sports arena, watching sports all day, served nothing but hot dogs and beer. Well, I'd probably be given soda pop, instead. But no, I'm describing my own hell. I'd be served warm beer. And it wouldn't even be the good ale I enjoyed before I was a Baha'i and living in Europe. It would be American beer. Warm American beer, and hot dogs with ketchup. I'm from Chicago originally, so hot dogs with ketchup is already a horrible concept. Oh, this would truly be hell for me.

But I can easily imagine some of my friends for whom this would be reversed. The bookstore would be a boring hell, while they would love to be in that stadium.

All of a sudden we can easily see how one person's heaven could be another person's hell.

Now, imagine if your life revolved around food, and all of a sudden you lost your sense of taste. Or if you spent all your time accumulating stuff, and then found that you had nothing. Just imagine if you spent your whole life collecting a pristine set of, I don't know, Spiderman comics. And then, all of a sudden, this prized collection was suddenly dispersed to the winds. It's easy to see how the loss of what you treasured would be a form of hell.

You see how we can now make sense of this notion that heaven and hell are more due to our own perspective, right? But again, how does this impact our daily life?

Let's be clear that we do not take our body with us when we die. That's a starting point for me, a given. But let's also be clear that we are still conscious, aware of our surroundings, of our sense of self. Some may call it a soul, or our spirit. I'm not concerned either way, but just that it impacts what comes next.

We no longer have a sense of taste, for we no longer have a body with which to taste things. We have the memory of taste, but that's likely as satisfying a being diabetic and having to content oneself with the aroma in a wonderful bakery. Hell? Yup.

Can we relish in our collection of stuff? Nope.

But what if our greatest treasure was the expression on someone's face as they succeeded in accomplishing a difficult task? What if our most prized possession was working with someone in coming to a deeper understanding of a difficult topic? What if our greatest joy was found in the accomplishments of others?

These are things that we can appreciate in the next world, without need for a body.

When we begin to find the deep soul-felt solace in contemplative prayer and meditation, when we learn to treasure those hard won accomplishments of others, it feels to me as if we are training ourselves for our life in the next world.

But when we dedicate our life to those fleeting things of this world, it is as if we are spending our time striving to move backwards, back into the womb of our earthly existence.

Everything in our spiritual life seems to be encouraging us to move forwards, to learn to appreciate those things to come, and detach from those things we must necessarily leave behind.

So yes, heaven and hell do seem to be a matter of perspective, and yes, we can train ourselves to be prepared for that world to come. We can train ourselves to find that perspective that will allow us to see what comes next as an anticipated heaven.

And if I do happen to find myself in that stadium, perhaps I will learn to appreciate the struggle of competition on the field, and relish in the hard-won victory of the winning team.

But I'll still give a hard pass on the hot dogs and beer, thanks.