We just spent eighteen paragraphs looking at knowledge, and particularly at the difference between knowledge that merely “begins with words and ends with words” and knowledge that actually produces something. Baha'u'llah praises the arts and sciences that “bring forth their fruit”, and after showing us the transformation of the Babis and the teachings that helped bring it about, He concludes by saying that “knowledge is a veritable treasure for man”.
Now He turns back to Muhammad-Taqi, a man respected for his knowledge, and tells him what is incumbent upon him: “to summon the people, under all conditions, to whatever will cause them to show forth spiritual characteristics and goodly deeds”. Given that only a short while ago Baha'u'llah reminded him that he had “bidden the people to curse Me, and decreed that the blood of the servants of God be shed”, I have to ask, does asking them to spill blood count?
Then Baha'u'llah quotes “the first leaf of Paradise”. A leaf? Didn't we just read something about leaves? Only a few paragraphs ago He described us as saplings planted by the hand of Loving-kindness in the soil of mercy, watered by the showers of bounty. He then said, “Now is the time for you to put forth your leaves, and yield your fruit.” We already know what the fruit is, because He told us explicitly: “The fruits of the tree of man have ever been and are goodly deeds and a praiseworthy character.” But He never told us what the leaves were. And now, almost immediately afterwards, He begins quoting from the Leaves of Paradise.
The first Leaf begins with the fear of God. I wrote about this many years ago (here is but one example), because the phrase “fear of God” used to bother me. It sounded too much like being afraid of God, which never made much sense to me. Eventually I began thinking of it more as reverential awe. When I'm sitting in a room thinking about myself and the things I have to do, I can seem pretty significant. But expand the view a little. Think about the size of the earth, then the solar system, the galaxy, the universe, and suddenly my place in all of that becomes very different. I can imagine myself in five minutes time, or envision what I might be doing next year. I can even think that someone may stumble across some of my writings five or ten years after I die. But what am I doing today that will make a difference in a hundred years? Or a thousand? Or a hundred billion years? And that is still only a drop compared to God’s eternity. As I wrote back then, “I am so inconsequential, it is not even funny.” And the conclusion I came to was simple: “And so when God sends down a Messenger, I pay attention.”
That seems particularly appropriate here, because Baha'u'llah has been asking Muhammad-Taqi to pay attention almost from the beginning of this Epistle. Give ear. Listen. Ponder. Meditate. Turn towards God. Now He tells him that “the fear of God hath ever been the prime factor in the education of His creatures”, and describes it as “a sure defence and a safe stronghold”. But then He adds something else: shame. “Indeed, there existeth in man a faculty which deterreth him from, and guardeth him against, whatever is unworthy and unseemly, and which is known as his sense of shame.” I've written about this before, too (again, here is a single example), and the simplest way I could think of putting it back then was that guilt is past tense, while shame is future tense. Guilt responds to something I've already done. Shame, in the sense Baha'u'llah seems to be using it here, can stop me before I do it. It “deterreth” and “guardeth”. Then He makes the curious observation that this faculty “is confined to but a few; all have not possessed, and do not possess, it.” Given what Muhammad-Taqi has already done, and what Baha'u'llah has just reminded him of, I can only imagine how those words might sound to him.
Then comes the second Leaf of Paradise, and it continues something we've seen repeatedly throughout these passages. Religion is judged, at least in part, by what it produces. “Religion is, verily, the chief instrument for the establishment of order in the world, and of tranquillity amongst its peoples.” A few paragraphs ago the arts and sciences were praised when they were conducive to “the well-being and tranquility of men”. Earlier still, religion was described as a means for establishing unity and fellowship. Again and again, Baha'u'llah seems to direct us towards the results. If religion is supposed to produce order and tranquillity, what happens when a religious leader uses it to stir up hatred? If religion should help protect people, what happens when it is used as a justification for spilling their blood?
Then Baha'u'llah says, “It is Our hope that thou wilt hear with attentive ears the things We have mentioned unto thee, that perchance thou mayest turn men away from the things they possess to the things that God possesseth.” There are the ears again, but I find myself wondering about that last phrase. What does God possess? Everything, surely. He is, after all, the All-Possessing. So what exactly is Baha'u'llah asking Muhammad-Taqi to turn people towards? I don't know that I want to answer that too quickly, but look at what surrounds the statement: fear of God, shame, religion, justice, equity, mercy, wisdom, loving-kindness, good character and upright conduct. These are very different possessions from reputation, rank, authority, wealth or even learning. Muhammad-Taqi possesses knowledge, or at least is regarded as someone who does. He possesses authority and influence. Yet Baha'u'llah began this Epistle by describing God as the All-Powerful, the All-Knowing and the All-Wise. Whatever Muhammad-Taqi thinks he possesses, how does it compare with what God possesses? His knowledge against the All-Knowing? His power against the All-Powerful? His wisdom against the All-Wise?
This leads straight back to justice and equity, and then to an image we've already seen: shepherds and wolves. Earlier we saw the false shepherd who was really a wolf preying upon the flock. Here the followers of Baha'u'llah are told, “Ye are the shepherds of mankind; liberate ye your flocks from the wolves of evil passions and desires”. This time the wolves aren't people. They're our own evil passions and desires. It would be very easy for a religious community to imagine itself as the flock and everyone opposing it as the wolves, but that's not what Baha'u'llah says. The danger is something that can arise within us, and once again He points to the fear of God as a protection against it.
And then another weapon appears: “The sword of a virtuous character and upright conduct is sharper than blades of steel.” By this point there is quite a collection of transformed weapons in the Epistle. We've seen weapons converted into instruments of peace, the sword of the tongue drawn from the scabbard of utterance, and armies composed of wisdom, utterance, good character and praiseworthy deeds. Now the sword sharper than steel is virtuous character and upright conduct. This follows beautifully from what Baha'u'llah has just said about knowledge. Knowledge that begins with words and ends with words isn't enough. The knowledge He praises bears fruit, and here it becomes character and conduct powerful enough to be compared to a sword. And, as if we haven't heard enough about the voice already, the passage continues with “The voice of the true Faith calleth aloud...”
Then we come to the third Leaf of Paradise: “O son of man! If thine eyes be turned towards mercy, forsake the things that profit thee, and cleave unto that which will profit mankind. And if thine eyes be turned towards justice, choose thou for thy neighbor that which thou choosest for thyself.” There seems to be an expanding field of vision here. The first Leaf begins within the person, with the fear of God and the sense of shame. The second moves outward to religion, order, tranquillity and the responsibilities of leadership. Now the third asks us to move beyond what profits ourselves towards what profits mankind, and to choose for our neighbour what we would choose for ourselves. Religious authority can so easily be used to protect our own status, our own community, our own understanding of the truth. But Baha'u'llah keeps widening the horizon. The purpose of religion isn't the triumph of one faction. It is unity and fellowship. Justice isn't merely for people we approve of. It is necessary for the tranquillity of nations. Mercy asks us to turn away from what profits ourselves and towards what profits mankind.
And then all this language about listening reaches an extraordinary conclusion. “Were the world of the spirit to be wholly converted into the sense of hearing, it could then claim to be worthy to hearken unto the Voice that calleth from the Supreme Horizon...” The entire world of spirit transformed into the sense of hearing. At the beginning of the Epistle, Muhammad-Taqi was told, “Give ear.” Since then Baha'u'llah has returned again and again to listening. Give ear to His voice. Hear with attentive ears. Listen to the loved ones of God. And now even the whole world of spirit, if transformed into the faculty of hearing, would only then be worthy to listen to this Voice.
Which brings me back to the first Leaf and the fear of God. When I tried to understand that phrase years ago, I ended up thinking about scale. The universe is so vast, time is so immense, and I am so tiny within it all. And so when God sends down a Messenger, I pay attention. Muhammad-Taqi is a learned man, a respected man and a powerful man. People listen to him. Perhaps Baha'u'llah is suggesting that one of the first responsibilities of a religious leader is to learn how to listen.
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