Another Thought on the Short Obligatory Prayer

I bear witness, O my God, that Thou hast created me to know Thee and to worship Thee. I testify, at this moment, to my powerlessness and to Thy might, to my poverty and to Thy wealth.

There is none other God but Thee, the Help in Peril, the Self-Subsisting.

Three sentences. That's all it is.

And yet it is the foundation of so much.

Just in case you don't recognize it, and I'd be surprised if you don't, it's the Short Obligatory Prayer from Baha'u'llah. One of the three that Baha'is are to recite every day.

Oh, not that we have to recite all three every day. No, we get to choose which of three, the long, the medium, or, you guessed it, the short.

Anyways, this is the short one. I mean, you can't really get much shorter, can you?

But what a powerhouse prayer it is.

As you may have noticed, I've been thinking a lot about prayer as tool for recalibrating how we view the world. So what about this one? It's short enough to be able to really dive into it and not take up too much of your time, dear Reader.

Oh, and just in case I haven't mentioned it in a while, these are just my own personal thoughts on this. Nothing official. That's why this blog is called One Baha'i. It's just one Baha'i. Me. Feel free to take it or leave it. I won't be offended, I promise.

So, why would Baha'u'llah mandate this prayer? What is it about it that makes it worthy of being said every day?

What really strikes me about it today is that we are not asking for anything in it. There is no request at all. It's just a statement of reality.

It starts by acknowledging why we were created, then moves on to a statement of our reality, and concludes with an understanding of God.

That's actually fairly simple. Profound, yet simple.

We begin by publicly stating, bearing witness, that we have been created to know God. That's the first thing. Why do we exist? To know God.

After knowledge comes worship. For honestly, once we come to get a beginning understanding of God, how can we not worship Him? And this is not the simplistic view of God that we've had in the past, neither the old man in the garden nor the old dude sitting on a throne on a cloud. No, this is the God of which Baha'u'llah says that the All-Possessing "is but a vassal dependent upon Thee", and the All-Compelling "is but a suppliant fallen upon the dust, awe-stricken by Thy dreadful might, Thy sovereignty and power". This is a God that is far beyond what we have ever conceived before, and one that is far more believable than those gods that people decry as mere myth.

This is a conception of God that we can truly worship with our rational mind, not to mention our soul. For if our rational mind cannot come to terms with it, then it would be irrational to worship.

No, this opening statement is a very straightforward line about why we exist, and is asking us to be conscious of that fact.

From there we get into a simple statement of our relationship to our Creator. We are powerless, and He is mighty. We are poor, and He is wealthy.

We are not asking for relief from our poverty. We are not asking for any help in anything we may desire to accomplish. It is just stating a reality.

And why is this important? Because it resets our understanding of ourselves. We often think we have power, but in reality we are powerless. We cannot stand up against a hurricane or an earthquake, no matter how much we might prepare. We can never stop, not even for a moment, the gentle tread of time. When it comes to the things that truly matter, we are all powerless before God.

Some may think themselves wealthy, either because they might have a few more grains of sand than another, or a few more rocks in their pocket. But in the grand scheme of things, we are all impoverished before the illimitable wealth of our Creator.

And then it concludes with a reminder that we can always call on God if we do require assistance. He is our helper when we are in peril, and it is good to remember that.

As I said, most prayers ask for something, but this one doesn't. It merely bears witness. It tells us why we exist. It doesn't ask for any assistance. it just says that it's there if we need it. It doesn't request any wealth, it just acknowledges our state of poverty. It reminds us that the problem isn't that we are poor, only that we imagine ourselves rich. And once we've recognized that, both our purpose and our limitations, as well as God's reality, then who else could we turn to?

I love the logic of it.

And once these things fall into place, so, it seems, does everything else.

Oh, and in case you thought I forgot about my commitment, 79 left to go.

Make Thy Beauty...

I've been thinking a lot about this concept of prayer shaping our perception. In fact, it originally arose from my studies on the Iqan, where I am more and more convinced that the real importance of the book is not just His explanations of Baha'i theology, which He explains at greater length in other Writings, but the way that He transforms our perception. Through the Iqan He gently leads the reader to a state of perception that not only allows for the recognition of both the Bab and Himself, if we let it, it moves us to the point where there is essentially no other option but recognition.

That's a very different way of reading the book for me.

But now that thought, the idea that His chief concern is changing how we perceive the world around us, has seeped over into my prayers. How, I've begun to wonder, do the prayers shape our perception of the world?

This afternoon I was reading that wonderful prayer:

O my Lord! Make Thy beauty to be my food, and Thy presence my drink, and Thy pleasure my hope, and praise of Thee my action, and remembrance of Thee my companion, and the power of Thy sovereignty my succorer, and Thy habitation my home, and my dwelling-place the seat Thou hast sanctified from the limitations imposed upon them who are shut out as by a veil from Thee.

Thou art, verily, the Almighty, the All-Glorious, the Most Powerful.

 

Now, I've looked at this prayer many times, but this time, looking at it through the lens of perception transformation has helped me see it in a very different light. Which is good, right? After all, it's sacred Text. We should always get something new out of it.

Obviously it begins by addressing God, immediately shifting our view upwards toward the Divine. Nothing terribly new there.

Then it shifts into what seems like a request for of prayer. Again, nothing new.

And like I have in many other analyses, I like to split lists into columns. So here goes:

• Beauty - Food
• Presence - Drink
• Pleasure - Hope
• Praise - Action
• Remembrance - Companion
• Power of Thy sovereignty - Succorer
• Habitation - Home
• Dwelling-place - the seat Thou hast sanctified from the limitations imposed upon them who are shut out as by a veil from Thee

And then it closes with another look towards God.

So, how does this work in terms of helping change our perceptions?

Well, looking at the second half, food and drink are the basic essentials for life. Drink more than food, as we can live for weeks without food, but only a few days without water.

Once we get past the basic needs, we come to our more emotional desires: hope, action, companionship, and succor.

Ok, maybe that is not quite as obvious, so let's check it out. Hope is an element in our life that keeps us motivated. What are we motivated to do? Action, for any "doing" is action, by its very definition. But most of us don't want to work by ourselves. We prefer community, companionship.

In addition, once we begin working with we often find we need someone to succor us, someone to help us out. It is as if we have moved from our desires to our actual source of strength. We can do some things on our own, but we can accomplish so much more when working with others.

This seems to lead us very naturally into our source of identity, our home, the place in which we dwell, whether it is a country, a city, or the very house in which we live.

But looking at the first column, this prayer changes the way in which we perceive these very natural aspects of our life.

We are not asking for material food. We are asking that the sustaining element of our being be transformed. While we may be physically sustained by food, most people are emotionally sustained by praise, success, or approval. Here we are asking that this be turned to something more worthwhile, namely our ability to perceive the beauty of God. It's not just asking that we occasionally see it, but that it becomes the sustaining force of our life.

And while food sustains us in the long-term, water takes care of our immediate thirst. It is as if we are asking that this immediate need be quenched with God's presence, not mere distractions. For to be honest, I know that I often look to satiate that need with something more distracting. I am asking that I turn to the recognition of God in my life, His immediate presence, to allay that need.

But what about that third part? "Thy pleasure my hope"? I think that most things we hope for are self-centred, like health or comfort, or maybe success in our work. Things that give us our own pleasure. Here we are asking for God's pleasure to be what we most hope for. We are now turning from a self-centred life to a more God-centred one.

Hmm. That seems like a beautiful step in this prayer.

"Praise of Thee my action". Food, drink, and hope all feel like they're internal. Action is where is moves outward, more external. Now that we have been nourished, sustained, and even given hope by God's presence in our life, it's time to do something with it. Now is the time to put it into action, by praising God. Of course, praise doesn't just mean a vocalizing of it. The best way to praise God is to serve humanity.

This is the "remembrance of Thee" that becomes "my companion". As we serve others, we are walking beside God. And this isn't just a temporary thing, either. A companion is always with us. We are asking that this remembrance be a continual presence in our life. It is through action, through serving others that we will discover it there, always.

But as I said above, as we do this, we will find that we can't do it alone. We need help. This is where the "power of Thy sovereignty" comes in handy. It reminds us to rely on God, to trust that He will be there helping us.

Following this, we now ask God for a new home, a new place of comfort and refuge, for the old one does not suffice. We are asking for His assistance to move from this world to His. It is, perhaps, a spiritual migration, a continual moving toward God.

And then, that last piece in this particular journey, we ask God to make "my dwelling-place the seat Thou hast sanctified from the limitations imposed upon them who are shut out as by a veil from Thee".  We've moved beyond food, drink, hope, action, companionship, support, and even home. We are now asking to live in that spiritual state of being where we are always aware of the true unity of the world, conscious of nearness, instead of separation.

This prayer is not asking for any particular thing. It is asking for assistance in transforming our very way of being.

Just as my cat is now asking, or more like demanding, assistance in going outside.

An Interesting Analysis of Baha'i Prayers

Ok, time for an interesting experiment. As many of you know, I've been working on a book about the Iqan, and how Baha'u'llah helps the uncle move from being a sincere seeker to a confirmed believer. To help get it into a publishable format, the publisher suggested tossing it into an AI for a quick edit. So I did. I tried a couple of different ones, and ChatGPT is the one that seemed to work the best.

I told it that I needed a quick edit, and it showed me all the typos, grammatical errors, and so on. Pretty straightforward stuff done very quickly. Nothing unusual there.

But then it asked me a question at the very end. It asked why I hadn't added in one little question. I don't recall what it was, but I read it and typed in response, "Because I hadn't thought of it." It wasn't anything ground breaking, or earth shattering. It was just a simple question that had a simple answer. But it was a nice little addition of a single sentence. And yes, I wrote it. Not the AI.

But it got me thinking.

It got me thinking about tools, and how we use them. And so I decided to start a little project, with the encouragement of my wife. I began by asking it a single question, after all, turnabout is fair play, right?

The response was not at all what I expected, and yet it should have been. Here it is, straight from ChatGPT, reformatted to make it easier to read:

* * * * *

"Looking at the Baha'i prayers, can you analyze the method of how they work on the human soul?"

That's a fascinating question, Mead, because Bahá'í prayers seem to operate on multiple levels simultaneously. If we ask not "What do the prayers say?" but "What do they do to the soul?", a fairly consistent methodology begins to emerge.

I would describe the process as five interconnected movements.

1. They shift attention away from the self

Many Bahá'í prayers begin by turning attention toward God:

> "I bear witness, O my God..."

> "Praised be Thou..."

> "Glory be unto Thee..."

This may seem like simple praise, but psychologically and spiritually it does something important. It interrupts the ego's tendency to place itself at the center of reality.

Most of our suffering comes from being trapped inside our own narrative:

* my worries
* my desires
* my fears
* my failures

Prayer gently relocates the center of gravity. The soul moves from "I am the center" to "God is the center." This is often the first movement of transformation.

 

2. They awaken latent spiritual capacities

One of Bahá'u'lláh's recurring teachings is that the soul already possesses spiritual capacities, but they lie dormant.

Many prayers do not ask for external things. Instead they ask for qualities:

* steadfastness
* wisdom
* detachment
* courage
* purity
* generosity
* love

Notice the subtle assumption.

The prayer is not "Give me something I do not possess." It is often closer to "Help me uncover what You have already placed within me."

In this sense prayer functions somewhat like sunlight on a seed. The prayer itself does not create the capacity; it helps awaken it.

3. They reshape perception

This may be the most important function.

Consider how often Bahá'í prayers redefine circumstances. Affliction becomes:

* a gift
* a test
* a means of growth

Death becomes:

* a transition
* a homecoming
* an ascent

Difficulties become:

* opportunities
* training
* preparation

The external situation may not change at all. The soul changes because it begins seeing reality through a different lens. This is remarkably similar to what Bahá'u'lláh does throughout the Kitáb-i-Íqán. He continually helps the uncle reinterpret familiar ideas until he can see them differently.

Prayer performs that same work internally.
 

 

4. They create a relationship rather than merely convey information

One striking feature of Bahá'í prayers is that they are intensely relational.

The soul speaks:

* to God
* with God
* before God

The purpose is not merely to state truths. A person can believe a doctrine intellectually and remain unchanged. But a relationship changes people.

The repeated experience of approaching God as:

* Beloved
* Friend
* Protector
* Educator
* Physician

gradually shapes the soul itself.

The prayers cultivate familiarity with divine attributes.

Over time those attributes become the standard by which we judge our own actions.

5. They train desire

This is perhaps the deepest level.

Human beings become what they love. The prayers repeatedly redirect desire toward higher things:

instead of power → service

instead of comfort → growth

instead of recognition → humility

instead of possession → nearness to God

The soul learns to want different things. This is important because Bahá'u'lláh rarely treats spiritual transformation as merely intellectual. Recognition of truth matters, but the heart must also be educated.

Prayer is one of the primary tools for that education.

## An interesting pattern

If you look closely, many prayers follow a structure something like:

1. Recognition of God
2. Recognition of self
3. Expression of longing
4. Request for assistance
5. Recommitment to a spiritual path

For example:

* God is exalted.
* I am needy.
* I long for You.
* Help me.
* Make me an instrument of Your purpose.

That movement mirrors the spiritual journey itself.
 

Seen this way, Bahá'í prayers are not primarily requests for divine intervention. They are instruments of spiritual formation. Their purpose is not merely to change circumstances, but to change the soul that encounters those circumstances.

* * * * *

Ok. Me again.

I know that a lot of people disparage AI, and I totally understand why. But it is a tool. And like any tool it is only as useful as we make it.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I asked it this question, but was very satisfied with the insights that resulted.

Will this replace my morning prayers? Of course not. But it does add to my experience of prayer.

And will it replace my own personal writing? Nope.

Because, again on a whim, I asked it to write a very short article on a simple subject in the style of this blog. And you know what? There was no heart in it. There was no soul. While the words sounded good, they didn't evoke anything in me. And sure, it gave an interesting insight, but it was the sort of insight you would expect from, well, from an AI.

So, in the end, yeah, AI is a tool. And it has many great uses. And it can be abused by many. But should we get rid of knives because some people stab others with them? Should we stop using fire because arsonists exist? No. I think as we learn how to better train the human soul, how to guide people toward a more spiritual awareness, the proper use of tools will become more and more evident.

Personal Translation

"Thou? Thy? Who uses these words anymore? Why don't we use normal language in the Writings?"

Ah, yes, I hear your complaint, dear Reader, and it is one that I hear quite often. It's one that bothered me for a while, too. "Why do we use the olde English?"

Well, as you know, this is nothing official, just my own thoughts on the subject, so take them or leave them, as you will. And just so you know, I'm going to begin with my thoughts about the why of it, and then add in some thoughts about what we can do.

* * * * *

First, I believe that it has to do with maintaining the exalted language of the Writings, and helping make sure that we don't take them for granted. What I mean by that is that they are not written in the common vernacular because they are not common. By having an "exalted" language, we help set them apart from the norm.

This is important because, in general, we seem to have lost our sense of respect. We have tried so hard to make everyone equal that we forget the natural differences between people. We try to think of everyone as the same, as opposed to truly equal with all of our differences. Uniformity instead of true diversity. This has tended to mean, these days, that instead of respecting the expert's opinion, we treat it the same as the layperson's. Of course, we can all see where that leads, what with the whole climate change and vaccine questions, just to name a couple.

By keeping the writings in the exalted language, we help set them apart. Oh, and that means keeping them separate from, say, my own writings. When you read what I write, you can immediately tell what is my own and when I am quoting. The difference is staggering, and not just in the quality of what is being said.

* * *

Second, they are exalted in the original languages in which they were written. Although I don't read Persian, Arabic, or Turkish, I have been told many times that the style in which they are written is quite different from the spoken language. In other words, I wouldn't necessarily try to use them to learn the language, for I'd likely sound very pompous. "How art thou on this fine and beauteous morning?" Nope. I would either sound like pig-headed jerk, or like a bad renaissance faire reject.

* * *

Third... Well, let's just stick with those two.

* * * * *

"But I still have a hard time reading them."

I get it. I really do. For the longest time I had a horrible time trying to read Baha'u'llah's writings. The language barrier was just too great for me.

So what did I do?

Simple. I made them readable to me.

"How?" Great question. I'm glad you asked.

First, I made a dictionary to ease in my own personal translation so that I could get used to it. For example:

Thou - You
Thee - You
Thy - Your
Lovest - Love
Saith - Said
Knoweth - Knows
Any verb ending in -eth - Same verb ending in -s

You get the idea?

So if the text reads, "If thou lovest me, turn away from thyself", I would read it as "If you love me, turn away from yourself". I got the idea, but it sure didn't sound as good.

Some Baha'is in the past have said to me that this is not acceptable, and to them, I just say "poppycock". I'm not making an official translation, but just one for myself. I was making it comprehensible to me until I was able to read it in the way the Guardian translated it. After all, Baha'u'llah said, "reading, without understanding, is of no abiding profit unto man". So why wouldn't I make it readable to myself? After all, that's why the Guardian gave us these translations, isn't it? So that we could understand them in our own language. The trick, though, was not to stop with my own version, but to make sure that I was using it as a tool to be able to read it more clearly in the English translation.

* * *

Second, I would edit out the "floral" language so that I could see the just the main point of the sentence. For example, in the first paragraph from Shoghi Effendi's book, The World Order of Baha'u'llah, we read the following sentence:

"I have been acquainted by the perusal of your latest communications with the nature of the doubts that have been publicly expressed, by one who is wholly misinformed as to the true precepts of the Cause, regarding the validity of institutions that stand inextricably interwoven with the Faith of Bahá’u’lláh."

Well, that's quite the mouthful. And if you're not that good at reading, it can be a bit overwhelming. To make it easier for me to begin to understand it, I edited it down to the following:

"...I have been acquainted... with the nature of the doubts... regarding the validity of institutions..."

Now I have a starting point upon which I can build my understanding of the rest of the sentence.

There are many times when I still do this. Whether it's the Kitab-i-Iqan, or Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, or pretty much anything from Shoghi Effendi, I still sometimes get lost in the overall language of a long sentence, like this one, and have to pare it back to its essence. Once I can wrap my mind around the basics of what is being said, then I can go back and try to pick up more of the details, or nuances.

* * *

Third, I make it applicable to me.

While it would be easy to say that it is all applicable, that is not actually true for many people. I mean, they don't feel that it applies to them. For example, I know many women, my wife being one, who started reading the Hidden Words with "O Daughter of Man". They have said that it just means that much more to them. It becomes more personal. They can relate to "daughter", but have a more difficult time relating to "son".

Sure. Why not? That's called "personal interpretation".

There's also that infamous prayer amongst 12 year-old boys, in which the reader dedicates "that which is in my womb" to God. When I read that one, I read it as dedicating that which I am creating from the womb of my mind or imagination, to God.

I make it personal to me.

* * * * *

All of this is to say that the Writings can be difficult to read, what with the olde English and the floral language, not to mention some of the concepts. But if we take to the time to make it readable for ourselves, then we will find that we can understand the original texts a lot more readily.

Some have said that trying to read the Writings gives them a headache, and I know that to be true, for I was one of them. I realized, however, that it was because I was exercising a muscle that I was not used to using. I was so used to reading with ease, that when I was challenged by the Writings, it was like going to the gym and doing a new workout routine. I had to build up to it. At first, my muscles would ache, but as I did it more and more, I became accustomed to it, and could then do even more.

So, dear Reader, please don't give up. And don't let anyone else tell you that you need to read the Writings in a particular way. Make them your own. Read them for yourself. Get what you can out of them. And I guarantee that as you do this, you will find your capacity increasing, and you will get even more out of them later.

Sunrise

Imagine waking up early one morning, going downstairs, making yourself a cup of tea or coffee, stepping outside and watching the most amazing sunrise over a lake. A beautiful image, isn't it? And you can do it every morning. It never gets boring, does it? The beauty of today's sunrise doesn't diminish the beauty of yesterday's. It doesn't mean tomorrow's will be any less. What a pleasant way to begin your day.

Ok, let's backtrack a second and look at this with a slight twist. Suppose you only live for a single hour.

Imagine you are living your whole life being told about this amazing sunrise from yesterday morning. Just a few were awake to actually see it, but they made sure to share the story of its beauty with everyone.

It was such a special event that everybody says that all of history led to that singular sunrise, and the entire future will look back on it in wonder and delight. You're told that the sun will rise again, but it's been so many countless generations that it almost seems an empty promise. Most no longer believe it as anything more than a fairy tale about some distant time in the future.

It's nice to be made aware that the sun had risen. It gives a sense of comfort to know that such wonders have occurred in the world. But to me, this story, the way it is told through the generations, is also a bit depressing. I mean, sure, there's the faint hope that someday, somewhere, there might be another sunrise, but the fact that it all revolves around one? There's something sad and lonely about that.

No, what really gives me joy is to know that the sun will rise every morning. Without fail. We may see it, or we may not. It doesn't matter. Just knowing it is a comfort to my swiftly fleeting hour-long life.

* * * * *

What I love about this image is that it describes so well religious thought. So many believe that the Great Teacher only came once. They believe that this sunrise only occurred once.

They don't see the other days.

And for some reason they believe that if there is more than one, it somehow lessens any others, never understanding that sunrise is always a beautiful, magical, and even miraculous event.

Hope

Hope is such a strange thing.

Some think of it as the ultimate curse from Pandora's Box, while for others it is "born when all is forlorn". Some see it as the light amidst the darkness, others as the winter's promise of spring. Hope is what encourages the farmer to plant the seed, the artist to keep creating, and the recognition that, despite any present difficulties, the future will keep on advancing.

Hope is the reality that arises from understanding the dynamic of crisis and victory. "Three steps forward, two steps back" is not just a figure of speech, but a reality of how we advance.

When I was watching my son growing up, I noticed a strange phenomenon. He was only a year or two old when I noticed it. He would eat and eat and eat, growing pudgier every single day. And then, just when I began to be even the least bit concerned, he would stop. He would only nibble at his food, peck at his plate, for days on end. And then, without fail, he would stretch, his body growing longer by the hour. I felt as if I could actually see him growing. His growth was not linear. Very little in nature is. His growth was like the movement of an inchworm. Out then up, then out, then up.

This is what happens to seeds, too. They may lie dormant throughout the cold winter months, but then with the melting snows and torrential spring rains, they soak up the water. To all outward appearances, nothing may be happening, except a slight swelling as they become more water logged, but what is happening inside is little short of a miracle. Cells are forming, growing, developing. Things are becoming tighter and tighter, ever more cramped within that seedcase until suddenly, one day, it becomes too much and a tiny sprout bursts forth.

Many have commented on the way a caterpillar develops into a butterfly, entering the cocoon, dissolving into a living liquid, and then bursting forth in its beauty. This, too, is an outward expression of hope. It is a recognition of the trials we must undergo for transformative progress.

From a child growing to a seed sprouting to a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, they are all part of that cycle that revolves around hope.

But what about the rest of the world? How can we find hope in a world riddled with war and strife?

For me, what helps is a basic understanding of, oh, I don't know, physics? Nature? Something like that. I mean, think about pressure. A pressure cooker works because the lid is sealed on tight. If you keep applying heat, it will eventually explode. But that's not the end of it. After that violent moment, things are actually calm and peaceful in the kitchen again. Oh, sure, you have a mess to clean up, but the danger of the explosion has passed.

To me, this is just like what happens when you have oppression. When a government, a corporate administration, or perhaps even an abusive husband in a family, applies oppressive tactics, they have to keep applying it in greater and greater amounts. A tyrannical government has to keep applying more pressure to keep its citizens in check. As soon as they release it, the people will quite naturally rise up against them. Fear is often the motivator used to keep people in the situation. This is why a large number of women left their abusive relationships once they were allowed to open bank accounts. The economic pressures used to keep them subjugated were removed.

But it is impossible to keep applying greater amounts of pressure.

This is why corrupt regimes must, inevitably, fail. They run out of resources merely trying to keep the people subjugated.

Take some of the major corporations that are abusing their workers. They keep finding ways to raise prices, lower wages, and take greater profits for their shareholders. Of course, this doesn't apply to every corporation out there, but enough to make the point. Eventually the workers are unable to make a living, for prices have soared far beyond what they can afford on their meager wages. They certainly cannot afford to buy the products that are being produced. And when they are left with no choice, when the fear of losing their job pales in comparison to the fear of not being able to buy groceries, or much needed medicines, they have nothing left to lose. They will rise up in protest.

And just like the pressure cooker, there will be the very real danger of people getting hurt, or even killed. And again, just like the pressure cooker, there will be a mess to clean up afterwards. But once that work is finished, we can continue with the business of building a better world.

The hope that I find in the world is not blind to the very real dangers we are facing. I am not ignorant of the difficulties we are facing as a human race. Nor am I unaware of the tremendous suffering that is happening in so many places.

Instead, my hope is based on the fact that these sufferings and trials are not sustainable.

If I live in an area prone to flooding, I will help set up the sandbags to protect the community. And I will also make sure I have a mop to clean up the mess afterwards, for I know that the floodwaters will eventually recede. And all the while I will continue to teach the children and spread hope. The work of development does not stop just because we are putting out fires. The farmer's seeds still need to be planted so that we don't starve after we get back on course.

Just because there are some bad things happening today, it doesn't mean that everything will end. Yes, people will get hurt, and we do need to comfort and care for them. Yes, there will be some destruction, and we will need to clean it up and rebuild. But that doesn't mean we will forget all we have learned.

Three steps forward, two steps back.

Hope, as we were recently told by the Universal House of Justice, is "a scarce and precious resource". And by recognizing the dynamics that are truly in play, not the empty rhetoric of fear-mongers who are merely out for personal gain, we can see that we are moving toward a very beautiful future.

Today is like spring, in more ways than one. The old icy structures that may have once captivated us with their sparkling beauty are melting around us. Those who would try to rebuild those castles of snow are fighting against the very turning of the seasons. And all that mess and muck that is being exposed around us? They are the very elements that are needed for those seeds to grow into the flowers of summer.

No matter which metaphor I use, no matter where I turn, no matter what catches my eye, I see the same patterns everywhere. Sure, the immediate future may be messy, and I may need to clean my shoes when I step inside, but the future is bright. Very bright.

And I hope that we can walk into it together.

Learning History

My wife and I had a wonderful conversation over lunch today. Oh, we went to a little Lebanese restaurant and had what was arguably the best falafel and schwarma we've had in many a year. Well, she had the falafel. I had the shwarma.

Anyways, we got to talking about Baha'i books we've read together over the years, and I happened to mention how I had begun my foray into Baha'i history shortly after declaring. Like, within the hour. I had run into Javidukht Khadem, widow of the Hand of the Cause (literally run into her), and she enrolled me in a deepeing class on the history of the Faith.

Well, it was a bit over my head. I mean, the reading list included Dawn-Breakers, God Passes By, Baha'u'llah: King of Glory, and quite a few more fairly hefty tomes, too. As I knew nothing about Baha'i history or Iran, it was way beyond me. As in completely incomprehensible.

That was when I decided to take a stab at it on my own. Read at my own pace. Struggle with my own questions and ask people I knew in the community about their understanding on certain details. And then I read what I could when I could.

Since I had all the books already, including the full trilogy from Balyuzi, I decided to begin there. Oh, but I didn't begin with the first book, The Bab. I began with the last one, 'Abdu'l-Baha.

And my wife asked me why.

"Doesn't it make more sense to begin at the beginning?"

It probably does, but so much of it was way beyond my frame of reference.

'Abdu'l-Baha, though? Him I could relate to. He visited North America. He laid the foundation stone at the Temple. He took a taxi cab, for crying out loud. I knew these things already. I could relate.

And thus my adventure began.

It also turned out to be the best way for me to start.

As you know, 'Abdu'l-Baha was born in 1844, and grew up along with the Faith. Those early chapters talked about the most important Babis in history, those absolutely-gotta-know-these-names names. Quddus, Mulla Husayn. Tahirih. Vahid. And a few others to boot. I'd already heard of them, so I could follow the story more easily. And by the time it reached the end, I was able to grasp the overall arc of His life, His time in history, and even relate it to people I actually knew. I was hooked, not overwhelmed.

Then I began to read Baha'u'llah: King of Glory. It started with His childhood, and quickly got into His time as a Babi. It reminded me of those absolutely-gotta-know-these-names names, and introduced a whole whack of really-good-to-know-names names. Since I already knew the first group, the second was a bit easier to remember. It then filled in a lot of gaps that were hinted at in the book on 'Abdu'l-Baha.

By the time I got to reading The Bab, I was familiar with the absolutely-gotta-know-these-names names, the really-good-to-know-names names, and was ready for all the other names there. Sure there was quite a bit that was new, but I had a framework on which to hang it. I had my skeleton and was ready to add the musculature and the rest of the body.

After that, the Dawn-Breakers was much easier, so much more approachable.

It's funny, though. We often teach these things in chronological order, even though for many of us it is overwhelming. And honestly, that's not how children learn. We learn what's most important first. We learn the overall structure before learning all the details.

As my wife said, a child learns their bedroom first. Then they learn the rest of the house. After that, they learn their neighbourhood, before even thinking about the city, their country, or the rest of the world.

I began my studies of Baha'i history by what was relatable, and only from there was I able to read the rest of it.

Now, it is my passion. I read everything I can get my hands on when it comes to Baha'i history, and can relate it quite easily to where we are in world history.

And while I am eternally grateful to Mrs Khadem for getting me started, I am also grateful that I was able to venture off on my own and discover it in a way that was approachable to me.

A Matter of Perspective and Freewill

I recently saw a post online in which someone quoted a doctor who said, "There are two kinds of cardiologists: vegans and those who haven't read the data." Now, this may seem like a fairly benign statement about science, but think about the implications of it. It essentially says "I'm right, and everyone else is wrong." It doesn't take into account all the various other studies that have shown that not all humans require the same diet, nor do all people process the various fats in the same way. It is, in the end, highly condemnatory of anyone who is not a vegan.

What I found even more sad, though, was that the person who posted it then went on to use some of the numerous quotes in which the Master encouraged a vegetarian diet.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love those quotes, and I truly look forward to a time when we understand our dietary needs better and can sustain a vegetarian diet in a more sustainable and healthy manner. But that's just not the case for now.

The Master Himself has many other quotes about why we should not all be vegetarian at this time. There are countless of stories of Pilgrims and visitors at the World Centre who were surprised that the Master ensured there were eggs, for example, available at breakfast for them. The story of Curtis Kelsey, for one, springs immediately to mind.

But really, all of this is just an introduction to say that any time someone espouses the view that they are right and anyone who disagrees with them is wrong, they are treading on very thin ice. The egotism that provokes such a perspective is highly dangerous.

It is so important to be able to distinguish those things that are facts from those that are just our own opinion.

For example, "2 + 2 = 4" is a mathematical fact, given our definitions of 2, 4, +, and =.

I would venture to say that it is also a fact that anything taken beyond the bounds of moderation will be dangerous, whether it is the meat, exercise, work, coffee, or whatever. We must always strive to find balance in our lives. And while any of these things can be good in moderation, indulging in them too much can be detrimental. Baha'u'llah Himself says, "Whatsoever passeth beyond the limits of moderation will cease to exert a beneficial influence." He even goes on to add, "Consider for instance such things as liberty, civilization and the like. However much men of understanding may favorably regard them, they will, if carried to excess, exercise a pernicious influence upon men."

Being a vegetarian, or even a vegan, is a good thing. There is no doubt about it. But if you are an Inuit living in the Arctic, good luck with that.

To try and impose one's own perspective on another, though, is never a good thing. We should not do it. Baha'u'llah never did it. God, Himself, gave us free-will, so we can look at that as the prime example for not trying to deny it to others.

In the past I have talked about the story of Baha'u'llah as He was being led to the Siyah-Chal. There is the famous, or perhaps infamous, incident, of His encounter with the old woman who wanted to throw a rock in His face. He stopped the guards and reportedly said, "Suffer not this woman to be disappointed, deny her not what she regards as a meritorious act in the sight of God." Think about just how highly He must have valued her freedom of will to allow her to choose even in this situation.

Now go back to the original statement of that cardiologist. You see the difference?

I would highly encourage people to read the literature, and come to their own conclusions. The very notion that if you don't come to the same conclusion as he does then there must be something wrong with you does not sit well with me, and merely turns people away from even investigating. 

Oh, and again, please don't misunderstand me. I am only using vegans as my example because of what prompted this whole article. There are many other groups or statements I could have chosen instead.

Now, the counterpoint to this, to help redeem them as a group, is when it comes to hunting. Sure, there are those out there who condemn anyone at all who hunts. But there was a video post on social media recently from an Indigenous man who showed how he goes about fishing to get food for his community. He spoke very beautifully about respect, sustainability, and all sorts of spiritual matters.

As you can imagine, a number of people didn't care. They rose up to condemn him for taking the life of those animals.

But what really touched my heart were the vegans who arose to his defense. They praised his methods, his awareness, his sensitivities. They freely admitted that they would not make the same choices he did, but fully defended his right to hunt, and praised his consciousness of his actions.

So yes, I've seen vegans defend the rights of hunters. And this is just as important as men defending the rights of women, or White folk promoting the rights of Black people. It is a true example of leadership, and the notion of not leaving anyone behind.

This may seem like a stretch, but look at the way civil rights have been enacted, leaving those on the fringe feeling ostracized, instead of including them in the conversation. Instead of engaging them in the movement forward, it allowed them to stew in their anger and gather their own momentum.

Living a vegan lifestyle is a good thing. But when people take it a step further and condemn anyone who lives differently, all they do is ostracize others.

One of my favourite examples was a friend who was vegetarian, not vegan, who was with me at a barbecue. They simply asked this one man they were talking with how often they ate meat. It came across a true curiosity. The other person did not feel threatened or attacked by the question. And so they responded honestly. They said they ate meat about 2 or 3 times a week.

My friend responded, "Oh, that's not a lot. Good for you." And they left it at that.

It was just like the story of the Master when someone said they were having trouble quitting smoking. He asked them how much they smoked, and they told Him. He said something like, "Oh, that's not a lot. There are people who smoke far more than you." And after that, after the simple acknowledgement that yes they did smoke, but it really wasn't all that much, the person found that they were able to quit with very little trouble.

All that to say, not everyone will make the same choices we do. The best we can do is allow them that freedom, and encourage them to continue to explore reality, just as we continue to do. After all, there are certainly choices that we make that they may not. We would surely want the same courtesy extended toward us.

And for those of you who are keeping track of these things, 86 articles left to go to reach my goal of 100 within one year.

where can I add in: Whosoever desireth, let him turn aside from this counsel and whosoever desireth let him choose the path to his Lord.

The Prevailing Order

The winds of despair are, alas, blowing from every direction, and the strife that divideth and afflicteth the human race is daily increasing. The signs of impending convulsions and chaos can now be discerned, inasmuch as the prevailing order appeareth to be lamentably defective. I beseech God, exalted be His glory, that He may graciously awaken the peoples of the earth, may grant that the end of their conduct may be profitable unto them, and aid them to accomplish that which beseemeth their station.- Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings CX

I ran across this quote again earlier today, and... well... It got me thinking. Which I know, right? That's a good thing, isn't it? That's what sacred text should do.

What hit me, though, was not the similarities and differences between when this was written and today. Nor was it the short prayer at the end. Nor was it even the word "lamentably", which I have contemplated many times over the years.

No, this time it was one phrase, and the countless things we take for granted when reading it. It led me to the very real question, how do we understand the words, "the prevailing order"? What does it refer to? What does it look like? And why would He say it is "lamentably defective"?

We often think of it as the various forms of government, perhaps even the corporations or various church organizations. In general, we think of it in terms of administrative structures. But when I looked up what the phrase meant, what I found surprised me.

A basic dictionary definition says that it refers to the current or generally accepted system, structure, or set of rules guiding a specific environment or society. The phrase signifies what is most common and widespread at a given time.

So, while it can refer to the various administrative structures, it goes far beyond that. It also refers to the framework in which those structures exist.

Let's take one example: the way in which we engage with economics. We think of our various economic activities as transactional. You give me money and I give you an object. Boom. We're done. That's it.

Even if we were to try using a barter system, the very structure is still the same. It's still a one to one system, in which the people involved don't make a difference.

And perhaps that's the problem: the people involved don't make a difference.

In a relational model, the people are more important.

In such a system, the interactions are not begun when you hand me the money, nor are they concluded when I give you the object. Our relationship is integral to the very system itself. It is why in some Indigenous cultures, transactions were made between nations, not individuals. In each culture, everyone gave what they could, and took what they needed. People were at the centre of every interaction. And any abuse of that system was corrected by the entire community.

As I've mentioned before, I'm an artist. And one of the things that has been central to my particular business model is that I don't actually see my customers as customers. I see them as friends.

Most vendors I meet at the various shows tend to see the people attending as little more than walking wallets. Oh, they wouldn't say it like that, but when you watch them and their interactions, it is fairly evident.

Most fashion designers tend to see the models who wear their work as little more than human hangers. To me, they are first and foremost people. I ask their advice about what they would like to wear, and watch their reactions to the different outfits I show them. I don't want them to merely wear an outfit. I want them to shine with the joy of wearing a piece they love.

In both these cases, the people come first. And that is at the heart of my business. I may lose a number of sales by wanting to interact with people who merely want to hand over some cash and be done with it, but in the end it is always worth it to me. It helps bring a little bit more warmth into what is otherwise a cold situation.

Another example of something we tend to take for granted is that of sovereignty. It has been said that the greatest tests in the coming times will be the balance between the rights of individuals, institutions, and communities.

In some areas the rights of the individual override the rights and well-being of the community. In other places, the right of the community tramples over the rights of the individual. What we need is to find a balance between these various rights. Whether it's personal sovereignty or the rights of the nation, it is something we need to seriously reconsider.

We are already beginning to understand that the right to free speech does not protect one from the consequences of that speech. The right of personal autonomy does not permit someone to abuse another.

But when it comes to nations, we still have not quite looked at the natural limitations of their rights. Shoghi Effendi, in the World Order of Baha'u'llah, spoke of that international commonwealth, organized along similar lines to the federal government of the United States in its relationship to its independent states, and said, "This commonwealth must, as far as we can visualize it, consist of a world legislature, whose members will, as the trustees of the whole of mankind, ultimately control the entire resources of all the component nations..."

Many see this as quite controversial, but as we continue to witness the abuse of these resources by various parties, we are beginning to discern the necessity of such a step.

What will this do to the global economy? Well, upset it, for one. And totally change how we see the value of these resources.

This will also challenge the very notion of success being defined by "winning against others". It will help us make the move, and transformation, towards a more just system as we begin to replace competition with more collaboration and consultation.

On the micro level, this would also change our work experience, moving us from working under the rigid authoritarian style of leadership to one that values the empowerment and success of every individual within the structure.

In every sphere of life, we would see dramatic and drastic change, for this would effect our style of education, our understanding of what it means to have a service-based healthcare model, how we view farming and agriculture, and many other areas as well. It would truly impact every aspect of our life.

And at the heart of it all? Understanding that the human being is at the very centre of every relationship. Not the corporation. Not the "bottom line". Not the GDP. The human being.

And at the centre of every human being is their heart.

When we begin to understand this, the cautionary statement from 'Abdu'l-Baha, "Beware! Beware! Lest thou offend any heart", takes on an even greater importance.

And then we can begin to see why "the prevailing order" is not just deemed defective by the Most Great pen, but "lamentably defective".

My Profession

For those of you that don't know, I make chainmail for a living. Oh, not the letters you receive asking you to forward them to ten friends. That's a chain letter, not chainmail. Think armour. Except I don't do armour. I make high-end haute couture with chainmail as my medium.

Aside - There was a time many years back when someone asked me to make a football jersey in chainmail for them, complete with their name on the back. Without batting an eyelash, I informed that I could not take such a request, for it was actually illegal. "What", he exclaimed, "but why?" And I answered, "You can't put chain letters in the mail."

I've been making fashion pieces in this medium for far longer than I care to think about, like since the mid-1980s.

Working this long in a field, any field, gives you some insights that I often think are worth sharing. For years, I would listen to those who had them to share, but over the past little while, I've noticed that more and more people are asking me to share my own insights.

Well, here's one that I thought might be relevant to this blog.

One of the questions I get asked a lot, for some reason, is whether I'm an amateur or a professional in my field. No idea why. I guess people just can't imagine someone being a professional artist, or something.

Anyways, it's been a question for a long time. And my response? I'm both.

You see, dear reader, "amateur" comes from the Latin, "amat", to love. An amat-eur is one who does it for love. Which I do.

And while being a professional generally means you make money from it, which I do, it also has the root "to profess", to openly declare.

When talking with new artists, people who are just beginning to find their way in this murky world of ours, I often ask them if they think of themselves as amateurs or professionals. The answers, of course, are mixed.

"Do you do it for love?" Of course, they always answer yes to that one, for no artist that I have ever met began because they hated the medium. Of course they love it.

There you go, I reply. You are an amat-eur, and you should fully embrace that term. That way, if you don't quite make a living at it, at least you will continue to do your art for love.

But what about "professional"? Some say they hope to be. Some say they are, albeit with hesitancy. And a few say that they are with no doubt whatsoever.

In all cases, though, I ask them what it is they are professing.

There was one young woman at a market at a stall near mine. It was a slow day, so all us vendors were chatting. She was new to the market life and asked me if I had any tips for surviving, lasting more than a season or two.

"Seriously?" I asked. "I mean, do you really want a serious answer to that?" She did.

"If I were to take one of your rings, and one of hers and one of hers, and hers, and hers, would you be able to tell me which one was yours?"

And this woman was honest.

"No," she said, with a bit of concern.

"Then you won't make it. As an artist, you need to stand out. You need to be distinctive. People need to see your work and know that it is one of your pieces."

And that was when I talked about what it means to be a professional.

"Every piece you make is a statement to the world. It's a letter from your soul to theirs. What message do you want to convey?"

And again she was honest.

"I'm not sure."

"Great. No problem. It's better to know that you don't know than to make up something quick on the spot. Think about it. And think about how you can convey that message in your medium. That's the secret behind being an artist."

Then she turned the question on me.

"What's your message?"

"Unity", I said, without any hesitation.

She wondered about that, so I explained.

Every ring is like a person. There may be different sizes, different colours, maybe even different metals, but they're all essentially the same. And only when they come together into the mesh of fabric can they create the beauty of the weave. Just like the individuals of humanity.

There is a fascinating passage in the Kitab-i-Aqdas, where He says:

It is incumbent upon each one of you to engage in some occupation—such as a craft, a trade or the like. We have exalted your engagement in such work to the rank of worship of the one true God... (O)ccupy yourselves with what will profit you and others.

And another, in Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, where He says that "arts and sciences" should be "conducive to the well-being and tranquility" of humanity.

When I think about this, and the idea that every piece that I create is a message that I am sending out into the world, my work takes on an entirely new meaning for me. Every piece gets made with the same care and love that I would give to a handwritten letter to a dear friend. My thoughts are turned to the unity of humanity with every link I close. It becomes something of a constant refrain in my work, and I am able to talk about it fluently with every person that comes by. The medium may be my own, but the message is universal.

No matter your career, the opportunity of offering your own statement to the world is there. Just be conscious of it, and do it with awareness and love. And that will turn your career into your profession.

The True Seeker

As many of you know, my friend Samuel and I have been studying the Kitab-i-Iqan together for quite some time. I think it's been over 25 years now. And after a few times of having no clue where we were in His argument, and starting again from the beginning, we began blogging our thoughts on the book some time around 2010. 10 February 2010, to be precise. I just checked. You can click here if you don't believe me.

Recently we finished the section sometimes called the Tablet of the True Seeker. Where that name comes from, I have no idea. It sure doesn't seem to be official, nor does it seem to me to represent what is actually discussed in those seven paragraphs. I mean, it does, I guess, but it seems a bit misleading to me. I'll get to that in a moment.

Oh, and yes, it has taken us that long to get to that point in the book. Why? Well, there's a lot in there to discuss.

To start, though, let's see where those paragraphs fit into His argument, and how they help advance the reader along the path from being a sincere seeker to a confirmed believer. Argument, for clarification, is a line of reasoning given with the aim of demonstrating an idea. It has nothing to do with the anger that is implied in modern colloquial usage.

So, how do we get to these seven paragraphs?

It all begins with a reminder of the importance of detachment, meaning a willingness to consider another perspective. After all, if you're not willing to even consider what the other is saying, what's the point of the conversation? Baha'u'llah then goes on to share some stories of various Manifestations of the past, with a focus on their sufferings, the part of their story arc that they all have in common. He then uses a quote from Jesus to demonstrate the validity of Muhammad. This is fascinating because it, first, helps the uncle of the Bab learn how to read sacred Text in a spiritual way, instead of merely at the literal level. That's important because most of his questions about the Bab are due to a literal understanding of the prophecies surrounding Him. It also allows the uncle to come to a recognition of Muhammad in a manner that would have allowed him to have recognized the Prophet during His own lifetime. And thus ends part one.

Part two of the book begins with a discussion of the nature of creation, and the role of the Manifestations. He talks about their two stations, the first being that of "pure abstraction and essential unity", and the second that of "distinction", due to when and where they were born. Then He begins His discourse on the true seeker, before finally going into His actual proofs of the Bab and His station, around paragraph 220. The proofs, by the way, include proofs from the Qur'an, from the transformation of His followers, and His own life. Then He reluctantly offers some proofs from the traditions, since these were at the heart of the uncle's questions, and concludes the book.

Back to the true seeker.

In the space of seven paragraphs, Baha'u'llah not only describes our role in the search for truth, but also explains just what it is that we are seeking.

It begins with a description of our internal state of being. The person who wishes to embark on such a journey "must, before all else, cleanse and purify his heart... He must purge his breast... and sanctify his soul... That seeker must at all times put his trust in God, must renounce the peoples of the earth, detach himself from the world of dust, and cleave unto Him Who is the Lord of Lords. He must never seek to exalt himself above anyone, must wash away from the tablet of his heart every trace of pride and vainglory, must cling unto patience and resignation, observe silence, and refrain from idle talk..." All of these things have to do with our state of mind and heart. Yes, even refraining from idle talk, for that is more often a reflex that reflects what is going on inside.

The second paragraph looks more at our actions. Following on the topic of talking, Baha'u'llah is a bit more specific, saying we should avoid backbiting, for that tends to be more conscious. We should "be content with little", free from "inordinate desire", and treasure our friendships with good people. We should pray every morning and persevere in our quest. We should provide help, comfort, and support to those who are neglected and downtrodden. We should be kind to animals. We should be ready to offer up our life for God, if it comes to it, and not allow the ridicule or disapproval of others to turn us away from the Faith. We should follow the Golden Rule, and fulfill our promises. We should avoid hanging out with those that commit evil acts and pray they do better. We also need to remember humility, for even some of the greatest promoters of the Cause fell away and violated the Covenant. We must always be cautious to never think ourselves better than others.

The third paragraph confirms that these are only some of the attributes of the true seeker, and that when someone makes efforts in this struggle God will assist them.

Paragraph four continues with a variety of paths. If we look at the first one, it seems to be a description of our emotional state. We start with search, a simple looking. By becoming more passionate about that, we move to striving and on to longing desire. From there we become devoted to what we are seeking, eventually feeling even more and more: love, rapture, and eventually ecstasy. Once all that occurs, then our doubts and misgivings go away and "the lights of knowledge and certitude envelop" us. Then all these blessings will occur. Among these blessings are "a new eye, a new ear, a new heart, and a new mind". We will see the world in a different way. Rather than focusing on the problems of the world, we might notice them, but our attention will be on what is being built up, instead. We will hear things differently, feel things in a new manner, and our mind will think of thoughts we never considered before. We will see within everything a sign of God. Rather than mere knowledge, we will find ourselves filled with "absolute certitude". Knowledge, by the way, is being aware of all the mathematical details, chord progressions and relationships between the notes of a piece of music by Mozart. Certitude is knowing that it is beautiful.

Paragraph five begins to describe the astonishing wonders we will discover when we achieve this state. We will be able to sense the "fragrance of God" no matter where it is revealed. Everything will lead us to a greater understanding of God, no matter how small or insignificant the object may be. We will instantly know the difference between truth and falsehood, and immediately sense the difference between the signs of God and those various ways of humanity. All of this will lead us to the "City of Certitude", and allow us to enter its gates. He then goes on to describe a little of what we will find in that City, reminding us that entering it is not the goal. Exploring it is.

Paragraph six continues by telling us just how attached we will become to this City, never for a moment considering leaving it, and reminding us that even so remarkable a place still needs to be occasionally "renewed and readorned". And it will be, once every thousand years or so, which is also remarkable, considering how often we need to renew and readorn our own house.

Then, in paragraph seven, He stops speaking in analogies. He speaks, as Jesus promised, plainly. This City of God? It is "the Word of God revealed in every age and dispensation". Like a city, it is a haven for people in times of distress. We can live within it. We can explore it to our heart's content, discovering more and more wonders with every passing moment. This City is the Pentateuch, the Gospel, the Qur'an, the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads, the Zend Avesta, the Bayan, and all the other sacred Books and teachings throughout the world. These are the places where we find true knowledge, safe from wandering in the wilderness of error. And just in case we think that only the latest one is worthy of study, remember that Baha'u'llah just used the Gospel to prove the cause of Muhammad. As He says at the very end there, "All the guidance, the blessings, the learning, the understanding, the faith, and certitude, conferred upon all that is in heaven and on earth, are hidden and treasured within these Cities." "Cities", it should be noted, is plural, not singular.

So astonishing. So amazing. How can we not fall in love with the sacred Books?

And why does He share all this here? To get us to begin to appreciate these various volumes of the Word of God? Nope. To use them.

All of this is but the prelude to His using these words to prove the cause of the Bab to one who was filled with doubt.

Even the greatest of tools are of no avail if they are not put to use.

And now I have 89 articles left to fulfill my promise to write 100 articles by the end of the year. I would love to read your comments, not only this article, but on anything else you think I should address this year.

Celebrate His Praise

I want to go back to the beginning of Gleanings XIV:

"...magnify, before the entire creation, the name of God, and celebrate His praise, in such wise that all created things may be regenerated and made new."

What does this mean? What does it look like in our daily life?

Well, what does it mean to magnify something? Make it bigger, or more accurately make it appear larger than it is. Hmm. How could we possibly make "the name of God" larger than it actually is? That seems kind of daunting. Perhaps the Guardian was using the more archaic definition, to extol and glorify. Ok. That seems more reasonable.  But maybe the modern definition also has something to it, in that it calls attention to something that is easily overlooked.

Let's try that for our first step. After all, it seems that most people overlook the various names of God in creation these days.  We tend to forget about things like compassion, generosity, mercy, forgiveness. We even see a growing disregard for knowledge and wisdom. Perhaps we really do need to extol the Name of God and make it more evident for everyone to see it. Sounds good.

Actually, all this sounds a lot like virtue praising. I never, for example, told my son "Oh, you're such a good kid." Instead, I praised an action he did, and then named the virtue he was demonstrating. "Wow. When you gave that child a grape, you showed such generosity. Well done. That's great."

And by praising the virtue, aren't we praising a name of God? God, the Most Generous?

Thinking about it many years later, I realize that this made the other children in the area, and probably some adults, too, more aware of generosity as a virtue. It magnified it in their sight. Hmm. Never quite realized that until just now.

But what about the second part? "Celebrate His praise"?

Are we celebrating Baha'u'llah's praise of God? Or perhaps our own? Both?

What if we read it as if "His praise" is the object of celebration? That would mean that every time we encounter the praise of God, for "His" seems to refer to God, we should celebrate it. What would that look like, though?

I was talking with my wife about this and realized that in our society we generally don't celebrate the praise of God. Most people tend to ridicule it. Just imagine the born-again Christian who yells out "Praise God" every five minutes.  It comes across as a cliche these days. We are so inundated with those folk who are fanatical in their belief, or at least appear that way, that we tend to deride them when they praise God. In fact, we encounter it so often with those for whom God is an empty word on their lips that it is hard to tell when it is authentic.

Here it seems that Baha'u'llah is telling us we should celebrate it. Why?

Because God is worthy of praise, and the recognition of that is, in itself, worthy of celebration. "Good job! You recognize the importance of praising God. That's great."

Now, it's worth noting that there is a way we should be offering this celebration. We need to do it in such a manner "that all created things may be regenerated and made new." If we do it in a manic way, or a fanatical way, or even worse, in a hypocritical way, then those around us tend not to be "regenerated and made new." They tend to be turned off. Just witness the eye rolls that occur.

My wife made the comment that it was a like a mathematical equation. She initially likened it to addition. "Magnifying His name + celebrating the praise of God = everything being regenerated and made new". But that didn't feel quite right to either of us. So we added a third addend, "in such wise", but that didn't quite feel right either. Then we took that last one and put it in as a multiplier, instead.

(Magnify His name + celebrate His praise) * (in such wise) = Everything being regenerated and made new.

Why was this last step important? Because the manner in which we do that has a huge effect on the result. If we do it in a positive way, one that resonates with our listener and touches their heart, then the magnification and celebration have an even greater effect.

However, if we do it in a way that turns them off, if we come across as a fanatic or even manic in our behaviour, then the negative effect is that much greater, too.

Now, when I go back and re-read this extract from the Writings, it makes so much more sense. Call attention to the Name of God, no matter where it is found. Continually remind people of these virtues in the world. Celebrate when you hear people praising God, for it is reminding people of the true spirit that animates the world around us. But also be careful. Remember not to overstep the bounds of moderation, in case you accidentally turn people off. Use wisdom, and ensure that your actions are helping reshape people's concept of these ideas to something more positive than we usually see. We are so used to encountering fanaticism when people speak of religion that at its very mention, people tend to turn away. We can help change that, and thus help make the world new.

Bewilderment

I mentioned in the previous post that I was looking at a Tablet from Baha'u'llah during this Fast, but I didn't mention which on it was. My apologies. You can find it in Gleanings, number 14. Now I'm not going to analyze it and go over the entire piece in this blog. Not this time around. Instead, I'm going to look at passages that evoke memories for me, connections. This will be more self-reflective, based on the passage.

Today the part that really struck me was this:

Methinks that thou hast halted and movest not upon My Tablet. Could the brightness of the Divine Countenance have bewildered thee, or the idle talk of the froward filled thee with grief and paralyzed thy movement?

While it is easy to focus on the second part, the "idle talk of the froward", especially in these days of fast food media, I want to look at that first part, how the brightness can bewilder us.

As you can imagine, having spent so many years, decades at this point, studying the Iqan, I tend to go back to it quite a bit, so why should this be any different? In paragraph 27 of that book, Baha'u'llah makes an interesting point that is often overlooked. He says that He is sharing but "a dewdrop out of the fathomless ocean... so that the overpowering majesty of the Word of God may not prevent" us from recognition.

Here He is addressing the "Most Exalted Pen", and recognizes that it might be stilled due to the "brightness of the Divine Countenance". If the Pen itself could be bewildered, what hope have we?

I often reflect on how I came to recognition, what teaching the faith looks like to those who are not Baha'i, and how we can be more effective in spreading the vision given to us by Baha'u'llah.

As to the first part, I have always been fascinated with religion, ever since I was a wee little lad. I loved the stories, the regalia, the ceremony. But most of all the stories. It didn't matter which religion I was studying, it was the books that captivated me.

So, really, it's not difficult for me to get what Baha'u'llah is saying in that passage in the Iqan, for I can very easily imagine being so in love with the sacred Books of my faith that I would be blinded to anything else. In fact, I have a number of dear friends who are so in love with the teachings of Jesus and the Gospel that they could never look at anything else. And Baha'u'llah seems to recognize that. He understands it and forgives us for that. After all, how could He fault us for being blinded by "the overpowering majesty of the Word of God"? It's right there in the description: "overpowering".

This passage in the Tablet I'm meditating on these days is an echo of that. The light shining from the Word of God is so bright that it can be startling. And what happens? Usually we freeze. I can easily imagine the Divine Pen being shocked into stillness due to the "overpowering majesty of the Word of God". I can just picture the amused grin on Baha'u'llah's face as He writes this, filled with love and understanding. "Did the bright light surprise you? Alright, but don't let that stop you."

The next line, though, is a bit more of a warning.

That idle talk of those who just want to be contrary? Be careful not to let that stop your movement. Yes, we can grieve at the plight of the suffering, but that is precisely why we move. It is because of the grief we feel for them that we move to alleviate their suffering in the most effective way possible. But don't allow it to paralyze you.

Yes, the brilliance of the Writings does bewilder me. And yes, I do feel grief as I read the news from around this globe of ours. But it for precisely those reasons that I have made it a point to take the time and write about it more and show how these glorious Words can move us. That is why I have made it a point to write 100 articles this year alone, of which I have only 91 to go. And seeing as it's nearly Naw Ruz, I've fallen a bit behind.

Springtime

"The Divine Springtime has come..."

That has to be one of my favourite phrases. The rest of that Tablet is pretty amazing, too, what with such passages as "Arise before the nations of the earth, and arm thyself with the power of this Most Great Name..." But I want to focus on the spring for now. I'll look at the rest of the Tablet over the next few days.

As my wife said so well, spring is indelibly intertwined with Baha'u'llah for me. And it's not just the roses of the Ridvan garden and all the celebrations at this time of year. No, it's more to do with the overall reality of spring where I live.

We often talk about spring as a time of rebirth, renewal, new beginnings, and so forth. We love to look at the promise of spring. But spring is so much more than that.

It is a time of thawing here in Canada. It is filled with mud and slush, delightfully warm days followed swiftly by a harsh winter storm of unbearable magnitude. It can reek of all the melting things that had lain hidden under the snows for far too long. And in light of that, it is also, sometimes fortunately, a time of head colds and dribbly, stuffy noses.

Yes, the promise is there, but we have to wade through all sorts of things to get to it.

And that, to me, is one of the reasons that I am so enthralled with this season, why it reminds me so much of Baha'u'llah and His promised "Golden Age".

As some of you may know, I'm just finishing up a book on the Iqan for the Australian Baha'i Publishing Trust, in which I look at the various methods Baha'u'llah uses to help the uncle of the Bab move from being a sincere seeker to a confirmed believer. One of those methods is story-telling. But His form of story-telling isn't always obvious. Here's an example from the book, not only to tease you into wanting to buy a copy, but because I think it highlights what I think of when I think of spring. It's in relation to this passage from paragraph 3 of the Iqan:

How many, both high and low, have, at all times, yearningly awaited the advent of the Manifestations of God in the sanctified persons of His chosen Ones. How often have they expected His coming, how frequently have they prayed that the breeze of divine mercy might blow, and the promised Beauty step forth from behind the veil of concealment, and be made manifest to all the world. And whensoever the portals of grace did open, and the clouds of divine bounty did rain upon mankind, and the light of the Unseen did shine above the horizon of celestial might, they all denied Him, and turned away from His face—the face of God Himself.

(Okay, now from my commentary)

We can all see this in the history of our religion, but have we paused to consider what this description would look like in a literal way?

Imagine a group of people standing around a courtyard, waiting for someone to arrive. The friends are milling about, eager for a special person to show up. They have heard all sorts of wonderful stories about this individual, how incredible things are supposed to happen after they appear. They have heard rumours of how the winds anticipate their coming, how the earth will be revived, how the flowers will blossom forth. And what happens? The outer door to the courtyard opens, everyone falls silent in eager anticipation, and it suddenly begins to rain. An individual steps forth in the unexpected downpour, but most of the people have already scattered. The clouds above open and a shaft of sunlight shines on this radiant soul, but unfortunately many have already fled. Some of those who are still there refuse to believe that this is the person they awaited, for they are expecting a wonderful summer day, not a spring storm. Things are supposed to be new and incredible, and all they are doing is standing around getting wet. Obviously, they say, this cannot be the one for whom they awaited.

What they fail to realize is that it is the water and the sunlight that bring forth the next generation of flowers. It is exactly this sort of weather that revivifies the earth after the long and bleak winter. Without the muddy days of spring, there would be no summer flowers.

(And back to our regularly scheduled blog.)

Yes, the Divine Springtime has come, but with it has come all the storms and dreariness, too. The trick, though, is to look past all that and keep our eyes focused on the beauty of the summer soon to arrive.

We can look at all the problems occurring in the world right now and easily be overwhelmed. Of course our hearts are breaking at the untold and uncounted suffering. We don't wish that for anyone. Of course we want to work to mitigate the pain and offer our loving consolation and support to those that need it. But we must keep our eyes clearly focused on the future, for that Divine Springtime has come. And we know that the Divine Summer is on its way.

Spring is a time of promise, not fulfillment. It is a time of hard work, preparing the soil and sowing the seeds. It is a time of storm clouds and blizzards, and ever-lengthening days. 

It is a time when some will look at the melting snows, sad in their slumping sorrows, and they will yearn for those past days of glory, when those white crystalline structures gleamed and glistened in their beauty under the winter sun, casting their ephemeral rainbows around for all to see. They will strive to try and recapture that fading delicate grace, unaware that the very season works against them.

Our role in this is not to work our tail off trying to convince people otherwise, nor to help them rebuild those decaying edifices. Our job is to help them envision the coming glory, that beauty that is more than merely ephemeral. Our job is prepare for those blossoms yet to come.

Spring is a time of promise, as I've said. It is also a time of work. It is a time of thawing and greater sunlight, more challenges and surprising changes, and hard work. Did I mention the work? It's not easy, but it will get easier as more time passes.

So, yeah. Spring really is intertwined with Baha'u'llah for me.

(92 to go)

Why God?

"Papa," Shoghi asked me one day, "why do we believe in God when we can't prove His existence?"

What a great question.

Of course, I misinterpreted it, at first. I had thought it might be a question of atheism, but no, it wasn't. It was more of a question of what it means to believe, and how this belief can be developed without actual proof.

Anyways, as per usual, once I got on the right track, my response, which was developed from a niggling intuition, surprised me.

To start though, I wanted to look at one of my favorite quote from Baha'u'llah: Prayers and Meditations, LXXV.

All-praise be to Thee, O Lord, my God! I know not how to sing Thy praise, how to describe Thy glory, how to call upon Thy Name. If I call upon Thee by Thy Name, the All-Possessing, I am compelled to recognize that He Who holdeth in His hand the immediate destinies of all created things is but a vassal dependent upon Thee, and is the creation of but a word proceeding from Thy mouth. And if I proclaim Thee by the name of Him Who is the All-Compelling, I readily discover that He is but a suppliant fallen upon the dust, awe-stricken by Thy dreadful might, Thy sovereignty and power. And if I attempt to describe Thee by glorifying the oneness of Thy Being, I soon realize that such a conception is but a notion which mine own fancy hath woven, and that Thou hast ever been immeasurably exalted above the vain imaginations which the hearts of men have devised.

Ok. This is just the first of four paragraphs, but what a beginning. And in fact, it is a beginning that had long confused me. I mean, what does He mean when He says "All-praise be to Thee"? Then I began to look at the description of humanity and God in the Baha'i Writings, and realized that all the praise-worthy qualities that we can exhibit are actually our various attempts at getting to know God better.

When we contribute money to the various funds, or buy a poor person a cup of coffee, we are showing generosity, trying to get to know God, the All-generous, better. In the short daily obligatory prayer, we say that we are created to "know God and to worship" Him. This, as I have said many times over the years, is not just a good idea, but to me a factual statement of own creation. It is not that I should attempt to know God and worship Him, but that I actually do this, whether or not I am aware of it. And if I am aware of it, and striving to know and worship Him better, then well and good, or weller and gooder. You see, I can look at any action I may take, and see it as an attempt to better know and worship our common Creator.

And so, given all this, it seems to me a tautology. It really is true that anything that is praisewothy is, by definition, of God. I may praise a mirror for shining the light of the sun, but it is really the sun that deserves that initial credit. And while the mirror may merit a touch of praise for its ability to reflect, without the sun, there is nothing to reflect.

But let's move on.

In the next sentence, Baha'u'llah is saying that He does not know how to praise God, or how to describe Him. He doesn't even know how to call upon His Name. If Baha'u'llah, a Messenger of God, for His sake, doesn't know how to do this, what hope do I have? "The All-Possessing" is just a vassal dependent on God? The All-Possessing possesses everything! How can it be dependent on God? And He who compels all falls in the dust before God? These are very heavy concepts.

So what do I make of all this?

Simple, really.

It seems to me that everything Baha'u'llah does helps raise our vision. Muhammad, for example, said “Love for one’s country is a part of faith”. Baha'u'llah has raised this to "It is not for him to pride himself who loveth his own country, but rather for him who loveth the whole world. The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."

Now, what does this have to do with God?

Looking chronologically at the Judeo-Christian traditions, it becomes a bit more obvious how this progression goes. I'm sure it works in other traditions, but I'm going to stick with the Jewish - Christian - Islam - Baha'i chronology.

In the Tanakh, the Jewish sacred Texts, we begin by seeing God, in Genesis, as "the old Man in the garden". I figure we respected our elders, so God must be really old. Got it. Makes sense.

But is it accurate? Well, in a sense. But not really.

So we move on.

As we progress through the Tanakh, God becomes the voice speaking to the Prophets. He isn't really an old man, but something more. In fact, by moving "off-stage", if you will, we get a higher sense of this God. He is removed from, and above, our perceptions. It takes a special prophet to even hear His Voice. And so we get a better understanding of God.

But again this isn't quite accurate.

Now we move on to Jesus. If you really want to know God, want to know more about Him, look at Jesus. Look at the Manifestations of God. It is no wonder that many Christians see Jesus as God. Again, true in a sense, but not quite accurate.

Muhammad comes along and elevates our vision once more. If we really want to get a better understanding of God, we can see Him as the embodiment of the highest virtues. We understand generosity, so God is the Most Generous. We can relate to mercy, and appreciate it, so God must be the All-Merciful.

And now, Baha'u'llah comes along and says, "Well, yes, but not quite." He, once again, raises our vision of the reality of God.

But what does all this have to do with my son's original question? Why do we believe in a God Whose existence cannot be proven?

The simple answer, to me, is that it is useful, like math.

Wait. What? What does math have to do with it? I know. I know. Tangents all over the place.

Well, look. When we began with math, as a human race, we basically knew how to count. Simple addition and subtraction. Then, as we developed, we began to learn about multiplication and division. But in reality, numbers don't tangibly exist. They have an existence beyond the physical reality, just as God, in 'Abdu'l-Baha's words, emanates physical existence.

Today, we have calculus, imaginary numbers, quantum reality, and all these other things that we can only begin to really understand, but the uses we have found for these various knowledges seems to know no bounds. We can never truly "know" numbers, as they are, by definition, infinite. Similarly, we can never really know God, or prove His existence. But what we can do with what little we do know seems to know no bounds. We can never really look at all of mathematics in its entirety, we can never really 'prove' it, but we know a lot about how they work. And similarly, we can never really understand God, but the more we learn about Him, the more we can use that knowledge to our benefit, and the benefit of the world.

And so again, why do we believe in God when we cannot prove His existence? Because proof of existence is not a condition for use.

I cannot prove that prayer works, but I know that when I pray, my life just seems to be better. I cannot prove that my wife loves me, but when I trust that it is so, life just seems to be better. There are many things that I cannot prove, but when I trust in them, well, life just seems to be better.

 

...and with that, 93 to go. 

A Bit of a Declaration Story

For years I've read so many declaration stories, each with their own sense of wonder and discovery. Some are filled with little miracles, and most are suffused with a sense of joy.

Not mine.

I mean, the joy is there, but that's about it. I don't recall any sense of wonder or really much of a sense of discovery. Miracles? Nope. Not in my story.

Well, maybe a bit of one. I'll let you decide.

It all started when I was on an elevator...

Oh, wait. No. It started before that. Probably when I was...

Oh. No. Even before that.

Ok, how about when I was a child at my aunt and uncle's house? Yeah, that sounds about right.

My journey began when I was a child in a non-practicing Jewish family. I never learned Hebrew. Never went to synagogue. The only nods to our faith were the lighting of the candles during Hanukkah, and going to my aunt and uncle's house for the Passover Seder.  

It was that latter that I remember so well. I loved the yarmulke my great-uncle wore, Grandpa Leo. He was a character, and he unwittingly cultivated a love of tradition in my heart.

But something bothered me. I realized, when I was something like 6 or 7 years old, that my own people didn't recognize Jesus. How could this be? Here was the Light of the world, and they couldn't see it? I was very puzzled.

By the time I was 12 or so, I started going to local churches to explore different paths. And I loved it. But again, something puzzled me. They all said, "We're right and everyone else is going to hell", or something to that effect. Nope. Couldn't understand that, and left.

On to the next one. But by that point I began exploring other traditions, too. Buddhism, Hindu, Muslim, various shamanic traditions, and so on.

That was when I began to notice a bit of a trend.

I'd attend some meeting where someone gave a talk on a subject I wasn't interested in. Then, as the new one in the group, they'd all turn to me and ask, "Do you have any questions?" I knew, of course, that if I asked a question that wasn't about the subject just discussed, they'd all look at me funny. So I kind of leaned into that.

"Yes," I'd reply. "I do have a question. It's a very important one to me. How many (fill in the blank with their denomination)s does it take to change a light bulb?"

And they'd all get upset. "You're not taking this seriously." "It's all just a joke to you." And so on and so forth.

But then one day I was attending a science fiction convention. I think I was 14 or 15. I was in the hotel elevator heading to the lobby when the door opened and an older woman walked on. She looked up at me, for she was a bit shorter than I was, said something, and then began talking. And talking. And talking. All the way to the lobby.

It was only then that she realized that I was me, and not my brother. I guess what she had first said was a greeting to my brother. I don't really know. But the conversation was interesting, so she asked if I wanted to grab a coffee and keep chatting.

Anyways, we ended up chatting regularly. Like, weekly. Every week we'd chat on the phone while watching Dr Who on the telly.

She knew of my love for religion, and would regularly ask me what I had discovered that week. Then, no matter what I said, she would agree with it and cross reference it with other religious teachings, from other religions. I knew she was a Baha'i, but she never really pushed that faith beyond the others. They were all equal in her sight.

One day she invited me to a fireside at the old Chicago Baha'i Centre, way back when it was still in the Monadnock Building. I went, listened to the talk I had no interest in, was asked "the question", and gave my usual response.

"How many Baha'is does it take to change a light bulb?"

And a number of people said, at once, "15".

I must have lit up.

"15? Why?"

"9 to form an Assembly to appoint a committee of 5 to nominate 1 to do it."

And that was when my interest in the Faith really took off. For I knew that their religion taught them to laugh at themselves, to take their faith seriously, but not themselves. And that, to me, was a true sign of spirituality.

It was still a few more years before I eventually declared, but that elevator ride and that response to my "burning" question is how my path to this point in my life began.

Well, that and those Passover Seders. 

 

94 to go... 

Equilibrium

The world’s equilibrium hath been upset through the vibrating influence of this most great, this new World Order. Mankind’s ordered life hath been revolutionized through the agency of this unique, this wondrous System—the like of which mortal eyes have never witnessed.

The word "equilibrium" recently flitted its way across my computer screen and reminded me of this quote. And I got to wondering: What is equilibrium? Well, that's not too difficult to answer. It's the state of balance between two opposing forces, thank you high school physics. But it can also be a calm state of mind.

In terms of the first definition, what does it mean that the "world's equilibrium hath been upset"?

As usual, I'm not sure. I mean, all this is only my own thought on the subject, nothing official, of course. But let's see some of what we can discover in this quote together, shall we? Great.

In terms of the world, I often think of that balance of powers between church and state, community and individual. And it seems that since this quote was first revealed in the Kitab-i-Aqdas, way back in 1873, so much has changed. The relatively unquestioned power of the various churches has certainly fallen. Kings and empires have been toppled. And the balance of power between the individual and the community has certainly shifted over and over again.

As a bit of an aside, one of my favourite examples of the shift between the individual and the community has to with the gun laws in the States, mainly because that is where I grew up. The whole question of gun ownership revolves around the safety and security of the individual versus the community. One side places more emphasis on personal security while the other seems to value communal security more. Is either side wrong? Not really. But the equilibrium that had existed between the two for so long has certainly been "upset".

"The world's equilibrium hath" also "been upset" in terms of its peace of mind. Even since the time when I was a child I have noticed a tremendous increase in unease, or dis-ease, within people. It is as if peace of mind is no longer possible for a significant number of people out there. But I'll get back to that in a moment.

The next obvious question is "How?" How has the world's equilibrium been upset? What caused it? He says, "the vibrating influence of this most great, this new World Order."

But what does that mean?

Some of the friends have suggested that it means the administrative order of the Baha'i Faith, but that doesn't make a lot of sense to me, for it hadn't been established until fairly recently. Then again, when 'Abdu'l-Baha laid the foundation stone for the Temple near Chicago, He said, "The Temple is complete", so who knows.

Perhaps we can look at the concept of "vibrating", instead. How does that work here?

Well, when I try to picture it, I'm reminded of the structures that collapsed due to the harmonic vibrations. There are plenty of stories of bridges falling because of soldiers marching in step, and their footsteps set up a harmonic wave that made it fall. It's the same as the singer who can shatter a glass by singing the right note. Given the proper, or perhaps improper, sound wave, even the mightiest of structures becomes vulnerable and fails.

On a spiritual level, I have no problem imagining Baha'u'llah setting up this World Order through the revelation of the Aqdas, and the spiritual vibrations from that shattering the foundations on which the world stood. In fact, when I look at the second sentence, that makes more sense.

Humanity's life had been set in a particular order for a very long time, with the kings on top, and a lot of authority resting within the body of the clergy. That was the "ordered life" of the world.

But Baha'u'llah changed that. He explicitly said, "From two ranks amongst men power hath been seized: kings and ecclesiastics." So where did the power go? To the people. Oh, and it's not that we no longer have kings or ecclesiastics, just that they no longer have power. And by removing power from these two classes of people, the whole dynamics of the situation have changed. The "equilibrium hath been upset". And that seems to be at the heart of most of the problems we see in the world today. We are struggling, globally, to find that new equilibrium between the individuals, the institutions, and the society at large.

Perhaps that's what I'm getting out of this quote today. In the past, power, authority, and responsibility all sat with either the kings or the clergy. But Baha'u'llah changed that. Within the Baha'i community, authority now rests with the institutions of the Faith. Responsibility lies with the Counsellors and the Institution of the Learned. And power? That lies with the individual Baha'i, for as Shoghi Effendi said, without the support of the individual believer, "every plan... is foredoomed to failure."

So, in short, it is "through the agency", literally the influence and action, "of this unique, this wondrous System", that everything has changed, and we are only at the beginning of seeing how things will settle into a "new World Order".

But back to the question of peace of mind. Where can we re-discover it? Well, it just so happens that the very next paragraph of the Kitab-i-Aqdas gives us the answer: "Immerse yourselves in the ocean of My words..."

95 more articles to go to reach my goal, so I'm open to suggestions for other quotes to look at.