A Few More Questions

"Free will or pre-destination?"  "What is the meaning of life?"  "Why are we here?"  I always wonder why these questions preoccupy people's minds.

One of my favorites in university was the absurd "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?"  The answer, obviously, is "It depends on the size of the pin."

All right, that was another fairly lame joke, but seriously, why do we spend so much time on these questions?  As Baha'is we have such simple and straightforward answers to these "eternal" questions that they shouldn't bother us at all.

What did you say?  "Where?"

Hmm, well, I'm not sure.  That is an excellent question.  I think, overall, they are found in the context of the Writings.  If you find any specific quotes, please let me know.

For now, let's look at that first question: Free will or pre-destination?

A few years back, when I was at another youth conference (I seem to go to a lot of them now that I'm not a youth anymore), that question came up over lunch.   Now, I was the first speaker after lunch, and a friend of mine had just finished speaking before lunch.  As part of his talk, he rolled up a carpet on the floor to demonstrate some point or another.  So, during lunch, I snuck back into the room and modified it a bit.

After our break, we all went back into the room, and I began my talk by addressing this question, as it was asked by more than a few of the youth.

I began unrolling the carpet, and there, in the middle of the carpet they had just rolled up, was a piece of paper.  It appeared as if by magic, and said, "I am born".

"This carpet," I said, "is the carpet of my life.  Let's see what happens in it."

We continued to unroll it and read the few items that were there, each giving some detail of my life chronologically.  Then, all of a sudden, there were two pieces of paper.  One said "A" and the other "B".  I told them that this represented a crucial juction in my life, and I needed to make a decision.  "Which one should I do?"

They all shouted out "B".

I tossed away "A" and read "B".  It said, "Go to university".

We proceeded through the various papers on this carpet, making choices where needed, until I finally passed away ("Oops.  I died").

I then asked the real question: "Did I have free will in my life?"  They agreed that I did.

"Now, try and imagine this carpet from God's perspective.  God, as you know, is outside or above time.  He sees the entire carpet at once, from before it is created to after it falls to pieces.  He sees the decisions we make 'before' we make them, as we make them, and 'after'.  It is all at once, to Him.  So, did He know the decision we would make before we did?  Of course.  The past, present and future are all the same to Him.  This is what is meant by pre-destination.  It is also why prophecies are able to be made."

Having the carpet there to demonstrate the point made it very easy for them to see it.

This is something I have learned over the years: a physical object makes a point easier to grasp.  The Master often used this technique in His speeches.  Look through "Promulgation of Universal Peace" to see plenty of examples.

Now, the next two questions, "What is the meaning of life?" and "Why are we here?"

I believe that those are actually the same question, and not really meaningful outside the context of life itself.  Isn't the question actually, "What should we be doing with our time while we are here?"

Baha'u'llah says that we were created to "carry forward an ever-advancing civilization".  But what does this mean, and how does it apply to our daily life?

Heh, as if I have an answer to that.  Sheesh.

I don't know the answer to that one, but I can make a guess.

First, I think it implies that civilization is advancing, in the same way that "advancing the process of entry by troops" implies that it is already happening.  Second is that we should contribute to this process, and not be concerned if we feel our contribution is only to the "extent of a grain of mustard seed".  Every contribution helps.

I believe that it is like grains of sand on a beach.  Every grain lends its weight to the overall beach.  Although we may not notice if a single grain is missing, the beach is still that much less without it.

So what this means to me is that we need to work hard on developing our talents, and then put them into action.  If we don't use those talents, then what good are they?   It is like the Ruhi books: there are practices within them that assist us in learning what it is they are trying to teach us.  And these lessons can best be learned within the realm of practice.

It is sort of like Mark Twain, when he said, "The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them".  Similarly, I think it can be said that the good person who does not serve humanity to its benefit has no moral advantage over the one who does not know better.

Hmm.  That doesn't quite sound right, but I think you know what I mean.

Again, why are we here?  To make the world a better place.

To best do this, we need to learn as much as we can about what we wish to try and accomplish, and then set about doing it.

Now I'm reminded of an excerpt from a poem by Hand of the Cause of God, George Townshend:

...I am a soldier in my King's Army; I have given up my will to Him, and my life is His to dispose of as He may please.

I know not what fate Thou designest for me, not what work Thou hast ordained for me, nor will I enquire nor seek to know. The task of the day suffices for me, and all the future is Thine.

Little by little Thou trainest me. Little by little Thou changest weakness to strength, doubt to faith, perplexity to understanding. When I am fit to bear the burden Thou wilt lay it on my shoulders. When I am prepared to take the field Thou wilt assign me a place in Thy army of Light. Now I have no other duty than to equip myself for Thy service.

With eagerness and patience, with hope and gratitude I bend to the task of the hour lest when Thy call to battle comes I be found unready.

This, to me, describes our purpose.  We must allow ourselves to be trained, so that when the duty is laid upon our shoulders, we are found strong enough to bear it.

Does this mean that we are to train until some task is ready for us to do?  No.  Again, I use the Ruhi books asan example.  We are called to do small tasks, the practices, which are part of the training itself, so that we can be ready to do the larger and more difficult tasks.

What are those larger tasks?  We don't know yet.

It's like walking along a dark path with a flashlight shining at your feet.  You only can see the next few steps immiediately in front of you.

For now, I'll continue to study, continue to write and continue to work with the intensive programs of growth in my community.  For, aftel all, Baha'u'llah told us to "be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in".  And what we need now is to further implement the institute process, establish these growth programs, and help establish this divine civilization that Baha'u'llah has come to bring.

The Importance of Obedience

The other day I wrote an article that made me a bit nervous.  I'm not sure why, except that I thought I might be stepping on a few toes.

As you know, this blog is written for Baha'is (but this article and the other one seem to have a wider audience), although anyone is welcome to read and comment on it.  The views I offer are only my own, and in no way meant to be an official representation of the Faith, although I strive to be as true to the Baha'i teachings as I can.  Sometimes I am concerned that I may fail, and then I seek guidance.

That article was one in which I sought guidance.

Just to let you know, not a single word was changed from the original draft, but it's always good to check.

That gave me a bit of confidence, yet I was still nervous for some reason, even after it was posted.

Then I saw an article someone else posted about my original article, and all my concerns vanished.  To read that posting, click here.  Thank you, Catherine, for such a touching reference.  Although I have never met you, I admire the work you are doing in helping show alternatives in the world.  And you summed up my point perfectly.  ("This shuffle of paperwork": I love it)

Normally, I do not actually respond to comments (a leftover from my days writing for newspapers), but the final statement in this article got me thinking: "The rules of the Baha'i do not apply to non-Baha'i, and even if a Baha'i chooses to drink, that choice is personal."

I began to consider the concepts of  laws, obedience and punishment.

While I, as an individual, am not going to interfere with someone else's choices in their life, I do feel it is important to be obedient to what you regard as a standard.  So when someone says that they are a member of a faith path, in my case Baha'i, I will do all I can to assist and encourage them in following the laws of that Faith.

You see, I think it is very important to state that the Baha'i Faith is not a "permissive" religion, in which everything is allowed according the whim of the individual.  There are laws set forth in the Writings and institutions designed to administer those laws.  But the ways and manners in which those institutions work is quite different from anything else I have ever seen.

First and foremost, it is the job of these institutions to administer these laws, and not the role of the individual.  That is such a bounty and a safety, in my opinion.  It is also a relief for all of us: we don't need to be worried if we suspect (or know) that someone is violating a law.  We can just inform the Assembly and leave it with them.  They will act as they see fit, and we may never know what happens from there.  In truth, it is none of our business.

Story time: I am reminded of a dear friend who became a member of the Baha'i community a number of years ago.  She was, as I mentioned in a previous post, living with her boyfriend at the time.  They had just bought a house together, and were not in a position to live apart.  When the Assembly learned of this, they told her that it was quite probable that some members of the community would question (or chastise) her for this.  they said that if anyone said anything to her, she was to thank them for their concern and tell them to talk to the Assembly.  They then advised her to try and move her life into accordance with the laws of the Faith.  This meant to either move towards getting married, or eventually living seperately when it was feasible.

I just love the wisdom shown to her.

You see, the Baha'i Faith, from what I can tell, is not about "right" or "wrong"; it is about growth.  Whenever I introduce to the Ruhi curriculum to friends who are beginning Book 1, I always explain to them that there are no right or wrong answers.  There are only implications of answers.

For example, we all know the question in Book 1 about whether or not it is ok to take a piece of fruit from a neighbour's tree without their permission.  While most people answer 'no', based on the quote from Baha'u'llah in the section, I've had many people who have answered 'yes'.

I don't tell them that they are wrong, even though I happen to disagree with their answer.  I ask them why they believe it is ok.  One person said that it was alright, as long as the neighbour would not be eating the fruit.  If it was "going to go to waste", it was alright.  Again, rather than disagree, I asked if it was then ok to go into their home and take that "extra set of silverware that they are not using".

In the end, after some back and forth questioning in order to better understand their boundaries, they concluded that it was ok to take something as long it was "outside and worth less than $5".

I thanked them and went on to the next question.

"Why," you may ask?  Because they "advanced in their understanding".  They may come to a different conclusion later in their life, but for now, they had advanced, and that is enough.  I do not believe that we are about convincing people of our opinions, but rather we should assist them in coming to an understanding that is more in accord with the Writings.  Note that it is "more in accord", and not exactly in accord.  As long as they have considered the issue, thought deeply about it and advanced in their understanding, I am satisfied that I have done my job as a tutor.

But now let's go back to that Assembly who needs to "correct" the behaviour of an individual.

From what I can tell, there are two types of laws.  The first is the one that only concerns the individual, such as the laws of prayer.  These laws are self-administring, so to speak.  If you don't say your prayers, no one will chastise you (or at least they shoudn't).  Instead, you will probably find yourself short tempered, lacking inspiration in your daily life, and all sorts of other minor unpleasantries.

It is like the child who is warned not to touch the hot stove.  If they do, the loving parent does not take them aside and burn their hand as a punishment; the stove has already done that.  Instead, they treat the wound, shower them with love, and continue to educate them about cause and effect.

The second type of law is one that effects the community at large.  For example, if a Baha'i were to go into a bar and order whiskey, while telling everyone they are Baha'i, this would have a negative impact on people's perceptions of what it means to be a Baha'i.  (That's only a minor example.  I can think of many far worse cases.)

In this case, the Assembly might send someone to talk with them and let them know that drinking alcohol is not allowed for Baha'is.  If they had a drinking problem, they would probably be encouraged to seek help, either with AA or some other like-minded group.  In some cases, they might need to be reminded a number of times.  If, for some reason, things got so bad, they might have to seek permission to impose a punishment, such as not allowing them to vote in a Baha'i election, or contribute to the Baha'i funds.  This decision would rest with the National Assembly, and would be weighed in light of the integrity of the Faith.

You see, although I cannot point my finger to anything exact and specific in the Writings, there are many quotes in the Writings that speak of the Assembly as an encourager.  This Faith, in my own words, is not about "thou shalt not"; it is about growing spiritually, and helping the world grow spiritually.

What that means to me, and what I have seen amply demonstrated, is that the Assembly gently and lovingly guides the friends into obedience through informing them of the Writings, reminding them of how they apply, and, in very rare cases, explaining the implications of these Writings.

So although I completely agree that each person is fully responsible for their own actions, there are times when adminstration of the laws must be done.  And for that, I am so grateful for the wise guidance of the Assemblies.

Thank God I'm not the one who has to do it.

A March for Peace

I was going through some old papers the other day and ran across a few items that intrigued me.  They brought up some old memories, as you can probably tell from recent postings, and reminded me of some experiences I had buried deep in my memory.

One moment I had buried was when I was asked to speak on peace at a "peace" gathering.  Obviously, as you can tell by the quotation marks, it was not what it was billed to be.  Peace is not the word I would use to describe what I saw there.  After the introductory inflamatory talks, which were cheered by the audience, I was asked to speak.  To say that it was a moment of discomfort would be a bit of an understatement.

While I don't actually recall what I said, the gist of it went something like this:  "Are you angry at the injustice  being shown in (fill in the blank)?  (loud cheers of agreement)  Are you angry at (fill in the blank again)?  (more cheers of agreement)  Are you angry at (fill in the blank one more time)?  Do you want to fight (fill in one last time for fun)? (even more cheering)"  All of this was said in a loud rallying type of voice.  The following was said quietly and calmly.  "Well then, you have just taken the first step towards war. Fighting for peace is like (bleep)ing for virginity."

The stunned silence allowed me the opportunity to really speak about peace, and how to develop it from the inside out, while still addressing issues of global injustice.

After that sad experience, I have always looked more carefully into the background of the events at which I am asked to speak.

So why am I telling you all this, dear Reader?

Because, amongst all the papers, I found the following talk, given a few years later at an actual march for peace.  This one was put on by an interfaith group, and I was very happy to be a part of it.  I hope you enjoy this talk:

The teachings of the Enlightened One, the Buddha, are just as profound and just as sacred as the teachings of His Holiness, Jesus, the Christ.  The laws espoused by the Prophet of God, Muhammad, may my life be a sacrifice for Him, are just as pure and just as stainless as the laws given forth by Moses, He Who saw God.  The light that shines from the deeds, acts and manners of the Lord Krishna is the same light that shines from the deeds, acts and manners of the Glory of God, Baha'u'llah.

In fact, Krishna, Moses, Zoroaster, Buddha, Jesus, Muhammad, Baha'u'llah: I would make no distinction between any of Them.

Now, if you just felt a slight bit of discomfort when I likened the Founder of your Faith to the Fouder of another, you may wish to ask yourself why you are here.

The march towards eventual world peace requires far more than a few hours walk.  It needs more than outlawing germ warfare, prohibiting poison gas or banning nuclear weapons.  It demands more than imposing economic or political sanctions.  It requires a change in the conditions and attitudes of each and every one of us.

There are many causes of war: racism, subjugation of women, the increasing gap between the extremes of wealth and poverty, to name just a few.  But one of the most visible is still religious intolerance.

So long as we feel that slight tremor when confronted with someone else's faith, we have taken that first step from peace to war.

We must understand that religions are not parallel lines; they are bound to meet.  They are all the result of our ardent search for truth and our constant endeavour to live in peace with the world around us.

The Founders of all these beautiful teachings have given us the same light.

They all teach the Golden Rule, the honouring of parents, the need for prayer, and They all have raised up great civilizations.

Muhammad tells us in the Holy Quran (17:110), "By whichsoever Name ye will, invoke Him.  He hath most excellent names."  Again, in Surih 42, verse 15, "I believe in all the scriptures that God has revealed."

The Buddha teaches, in the Dhammapada, "Hatred does not cease by hatred at any time: hatred ceases by love.  This is the eternal law."

When we realize that this march upon which we are about to embark is but a metaphor for the march which we are all taking towards God, then we will see that we are all marching in the same direction.  We may not all follow the exact same path, treading in the same footsteps, but our goal is identical.

Even the candles we light today: the flame will symbolize different things for each of us.  They will have a world of meanings for each person.  But today, we all light the light of peace and burn away the veils of prejudice.

When we step towards the chasm seperating us from another's ideas and beliefs, and we no longer feel that vertigo when looking into the unknown; when we understand that someone else's faith is just as sacred to them as ours is to ourself; when we show them the respect we wish to be shown, then we will have made a great stride towards world peace.

Then this march will continue in our hearts, and not end with our feet.

Of course, you know, despite anything else I may do in my life, the line that I bleeped at the other rally will probably be the one quoted in my obituary.

The Visitor

A few years ago we had a visitor in our neighbourhood.

My friend and I had heard about him, had heard that he was coming.  We were told where he would be, when he would arrive and even what he looked like.  In fact, we even knew that he was here and that, if we but looked, we would see him.  We knew that we would recognize him when we saw him.  We knew he was different from anything we had previously seen and that his coming was a very rare event, indeed.

It was all we had talked about for a little while, but now that he was here we realized that we hadn't even bothered to go out and look at him.

His name was "Hale-Bopp" and he was a comet, the most dramatic comet to visit our solar system in well over a century.

One evenging, shortly after his arrival, my friend and I were walking outside, talking, and decided to look for him.  We turned the corner and, partway up the sky, streaking across the firmament with a tail as long as my finger when held at arms length, there he was: our short-term visitor.  We both stood there, transfixed, unable to move or even speak.  We had never seen anything remotely like this, nor expected anything quite so marvelous.  All that we had heard paled in comparison to the reality.

We were on a brightly lit street, lights shining like the noonday sun, and still he stood out like a beacon.  People were walking past us, oblivious of this miracle that hung high in the sky before us.  We stopped someone and said, "Look!  This is incredible."  And he glanced at it and shrugged, continuing on his way.

My friend and I went out most every night after that, and even during the days when it was still visible during the daylight hours, just to stare.  Hale-Bopp stayed in our galactic neighbourhood for a few weeks and all we are left with now is a few photos and a number of stories, such as this one.

A few weeks after that, I was walking on a bridge, thinking, staring at the water rushing below my feet.  We have been told that all physical existence was created for our spiritual edification, and that everything can be seen as a metaphor for a spiritual truth.  This means, to me, that we can look at anything around us and glean a spiritual truth from it.

One friend had asked me how a mouse, a computer mouse, was a metaphor for a spiritual truth.  My response, after talking about it with some friends, was that we are all like icons on a computer screen (and give me a break, it's too cheesy to talk about "the computer screen of life"), and the Messenger of God was like the cursor.  He goes around clicking on things, telling the world what to do, in control of it all.  We look at Him and say, "Wow!  You're a cursor.  You're special."  He replies, "No.  That's not my reality.  My reality is that I'm a mouse."  As icons on the screen, this is beyond our comprehension.  But now, from our vantage point here in this world, we recognize the mouse.  And beyond that, we know that the mouse does not move on its own, but rather is guided by the Hand of God.

But what about this comet?  What spiritual truth could we glean from it?

And again, I thought of a Messenger of God.

The comet, in its love for the sun, comes rushing from light-years away, streaking forth to circumambulate it.  Not for a moment does it deviate in its course.

We here on Earth are condemned, if you will, to spend fully half our life in darkness, turned away from the sun, just by virtue of the nature of our creation here upon the face of this planet.  No matter our love for the light, we must, by the very laws of nature which bind us, turn away from it every evening.  It is no fault of ours, just a fact of our existence.  In fact, we must turn away from the light for our health, as recent sleep studies have shown.

But this comet is different.  It so loves the sun that never for a single moment does it turns its tail towards the it.  It is always, constantly, unwaveringly facing the sun.  never deviating.  Never turning away.  Never wavering.

It is, by its very nature, different from us.

As the Bab says, "The substance wherewith God hath created Me is not the clay out of which others have been formed".

This visitor was just like the Messenger of God, streaking across the firmament of the world of the spirit, changing the way we view the world around us, undeviating in His guidance, always turned towards God, different by His very nature.

Atoms and Apples

All existence is a metaphor for a spiritual truth.

I'm not sure where I learned that, but it seems to be true.

'Abdu'l-Baha, for example, speaks of achieving "the power of understanding" and coming "to know the inner realities of the universe", as well as going on to uncovering "the signs and mysteries of God".

There are many examples of this in the Writings of all Faiths, in which they speak of learning spiritual truths from the world around us.

So, if everything in existence can teach us a spiritual truth, then that means that we can find a truth in everything.  Seems redundant, doesn't it?  But have we tried it?  I used to play a game with myself while walking down the street, in which I would look at an object and try to find a spiritual truth within it.

A teacup was easy.  All you need to do is look at Zen and you will quickly come across the idea of yourself as a teacup.  "Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"


Some objects were more difficult, and I will share some of them later.

One that gave me a particularly difficult time, but was very rewarding, was an atom.

How is an atom a metaphor for a spiritual truth?

I've always been interested in the sciences, and have read quite a bit about atomic theory, sub-atomic particles, and similar things, so I had a bit of an education about an atom already.  This is what came to mind:

Picture an apple.  Its colour.  Its shape.  Its texture, scent and taste.  Imagine the skin, the seeds, and the drop of its juice that, as you bite into it, sprays forth.

Now think about the atoms that make it up.  How small are they?  Can we even begin to imagine them?  Think, for just a moment, how many atoms there must be within that apple.  Millions?  Billions?  Can we even contemplate how many?

Now try and picture that apple the size of the planet Earth.  Seriously.  Look down at the ground, or out your window, and visualize how big that apple must be if it were the size of Earth.  The whole planet.  From horizon to horizon, everything is just the surface skin of that apple.

If the apple were that big, each atom within that apple would be the size of a cherry, and everything you see would be made up of those cherry-sized atoms.  Your computer, the desk, the chair, every brick in your home, all the trees outside: everything made up of cherries.  Just imagine how many cherries that would be.  An entire earth-sized apple made up of cherries.

Now take a single one of those atoms.  Stretch the imagination again and picute that atom, no longer cherry-sized, but rather the size of an island, adrift in the sea.  Imagine this island, our cherry-sized atom, a full kilometer across.  There at the centre, in the middle of our now-island-sized atom, lies a pebble.  And way off by the edge, near the shore, lies a single grain of sand.  And rather than an island, there is nothing, save this pebble and this grain.

That is an atom.

That effectively describes how little matter there is in an atom.  Proportionately, a pebble and a grain of sand, over the distance of a kilometer.

At this point, it is very easy to understand the person who commits suicide.  Consider for a moment, what difference would it make if you removed a single cherry from this earth-sized apple?  Virtually none whatsoever.

If we were to imagine this cherry as a metaphor for ourselves, the problem meaninglessness comes into the fore, and suicide becomes a realistic option.  So how do we address this?

Let's shift back to that island again.  Did you know that the grain-of-sand-sized electron cannot be said to exist in and of itself?  In physics, it exists only as a probability.  We can define its movement, or its location, but not both.  We can either say, "It exists here", but admit we don't know where it's moving, or we can say "It is moving at this speed", but admit that we don't know where it is.  We can say where it might be, but never that it is.  One scientist described the atom as pat of butter smeared on a piece of toast.  The thickness of the butter described the percentage chance it had of being in that location.  Tricky that.  I won't even pretend to really understand what all that means.

What we can say, with certainty, is that it interacts with the nucleus, the other electrons, and even the other atoms around it.  Its existence may not be tangible, but its energy is shared.

Its interactions with the other elements around it, those do exist.  Although the atom is almost completely made up of empty space, it appears to be solid.

Why?  More to the point, how?

After all, how easy is it to hit a pebble with a grain of sand by throwing it half-a-kilometer?  If that is all that is within the atom, why doesn't your hand fall through the desk?  Why am I able to clap my hands together? 

The answer?  Simple.  The atom appears solid because of its interactions with those around it.

Thus it is with humans, too.

Our existence, in and of itself, is negligible.  Not even worthy of mention.  Made up of almost complete non-existence.  As Baha'u'llah famously said, "when I consider my own self, lo, I find it coarser than clay!"


As I wrote to my wife, shortly after we were married:

...What gives us our seeming solidity is our relationship with others.

Now picture the tree that gave fruit to the apple.

We can define it roots, or leaves, bark or branches.  We can pick any part we wish and give it definition, but by doing so we have lost the essence of the tree.

Although we can take pieces of the tree and use them in a metaphor, like the Blessed Beauty's statement to "Regard thou faith as a tree," a tree does not exist on its own.  Not only does it not exist on its own, it cannot exist on its own.

We can talk about the roots, but without the earth from which the roots draw forth nourishment, they are a useless appendage that have no meaning.  Beyond that, they cannot even draw forth the water if it weren't for the fungi that grow on their edges, nor for that matter could the fungi survive if it weren't for the roots.

The thousands of apples that fruit forth from the tree would appear to be useless, and perhaps even confusing, if seen from the light that only a few will produce a tree.  But when we think of the nourishment that is generated throughout the forest by the fruit, by feeding the birds, or the insects, or enriching the soil, then we can see why the fruit is given.

It is only in relation to the entire forest, no, to the entire planet, that the sensibility and purpose of a tree can be seen.

And once again, I think of myself.

And you.

And I thank you.

For giving me relation, someone with whom I can worthily interact, with whom I can exist, and through whom my life can make a semblance of sense and purpose.

As the particles that make up the atom have no existence on their own, our own existence is, too, negligible without those with whom we share it.

And as the fruit of the tree makes no sense when taken out of the full context of the forest, so too do our fruits make little sense when taken solely on their own.

Our relationship is love, the first fruit of which was our friendship.   That friendship grew into the tree of our union, producing the fruit of our marriage, and more.  And it's not that I have no other relationships than you, it's just that yours is the most important.

And now, dear Reader, I thank you, too.

Thank you for making my life richer, more meaningful, and more solid, by giving me a stronger relation with the world around me.  Thank you for helping this tree grow, watered with love and given the light of prayers.

And all this from a simple atom.

The "Gay Marriage" Issue

OK.  This is to show that I am not afraid of tackling the "big issues".  But also, I must remind you, dear Reader, that this is only my own opinion, and is not in any way trying to be an authoritative perspective.  I do, as usual, draw upon the Baha'i Writings, but make no claims to being "correct".

The reason I am addressing this topic is because it was a question.  The question itself was, "How do you feel about gay marriages?"

This is a very interesting question, and what I'd like to address is the complexity of the question itself, because that often seems to be overlooked.

In our society, and here I am speaking about Canada in particular, there are actually two marriages in one, both using the same term.  One is the legal institution of marriage, along with its ramifications, such as the impact on taxes and insurance.  The other is the religious marriage, conducted through the institutions of the faith involved.  This topic gets confusing for many of us because the same word is used to describe both.

In regards to the first issue, that of the legal definition of marriage, I am not concerned one way or the other.  We can call it a marriage, or a legal union, or anything else the law decides.  This is purely up to the lawmakers, and in some cases the voters, who decide on the law.  The legal benefits that come with this are, again, up to the lawmakers, and I support them in whichever way they decide.

Here I have to add an aside.  I believe that it is very important to support the government in all its decisions.  This is also true for decisions of the institutions of the Faith.

Why should we support the decisions?  I believe the Master said it best:  Though one of the parties may be in the right and they disagree that will be the cause of a thousand wrongs, but if they agree and both parties are in the wrong, as it is in unity the truth will be revealed and the wrong made right.


So, to me, it doesn't really matter whether a decision is good or bad, I will support it.  After all, I may disagree with it, but that doesn't mean I am right.  Or I may agree with it, and it may be a very bad decision.  But through the support of all involved, we will soon learn if it is a bad decision.

Aside done, for now.

Where was I?   Oh yes, the government making a law.

As far as the law goes, I am happy one way or the other.  Whatever they decide is the legal definition, and benefits, of what they call 'marriage', I support it.

Now, what about the religious institution of marriage?

That is a different matter entirely.

If someone is a follower of a faith path, regardless of which one it is, I firmly believe that they should be obedient to its laws and institutions.  If they adamantly disagree with it, then they should ask themselves why they are following it.

That being said, if a religion supports gay marriages, fine.  If not, fine.  I'm not certain why it is an issue.  If someone really disagrees with their faith's stance on an issue, change your mind or change your faith.

If it leads to persecution, however, one way or the other, then there is a concern.

I have seen too many friends of mine, who are homosexual, persecuted because someone else believes that being gay is wrong.  On the other hand, I have seen some other friends of mine who are ridiculed or abused by gay people because their faith disagrees with homosexuality, even if they themselves never said a word about it.  Which side is right?  As long as they are trying to impose their beliefs upon others, both are wrong.

This is one of the things I love about the Baha'i Faith: its laws are for Baha'is.

Although I strongly dislike alcohol, and even forbid it in my home, I will not condemn someone else for drinking.  They are not welcome in my home when they are drunk, nor are they allowed to have a drink in my home, but that is my personal decision.  If I am at their home for dinner, and they offer me a glass of wine, I will thank them for the kind offer and turn it down.  I would never for a moment think that they are wrong for having a drink.  It is, after all, their decision.

If two people wish to have a homosexual union, and their faith permits it, there is nothing that I would say against it.

The real issue here, as far as I am concerned, is what it means to be a follower of a faith.  The key word there is 'follower', as opposed to 'leader'.  If you truly believe that the faith you follow is from God and divinely inspired, how can you question it?  If you do, then doesn't that mean that you think you know more than God?  Hmm.  I think I see a problem there.

Of course, there are some faiths that allow for discussion on these issues, and the laws change with the times.  In that case, there is a clear forum for this discussion, and that is wonderful.

Oh, and questioning to better understand is also always a good thing.

But if you believe that you have to be a member of a particular faith, and you want everyone else to conform to your own understanding, then it could lead to trouble.

But that's just my opinion.  Who knows, I may be wrong.

Neighbourhoods

I love my neighbours.  I really do.  Although, at times, like earlier today, when I'm trying to write and the doorbell is ringing off the hook (oops, a mixed metaphor), they can be a bit trying.  But still, I do love them.

This has gotten me thinking these days about the importance of neighbourhoods and neighbours.  As you know, there has been a wonderful move within the Faith during this Plan to focus more and more on both.  The learning has shown that when you work closest to where you live, you tend to be most effective.

Of course, this does not override the need for pioneers, or the importance of pioneering.  It is, quite possibly, more important to be a bit less effective in an area that needs you more.  In fact, the rewards and benefits for pioneering are nothing to be sneered at.  The Guardian went on at length about the extreme need for Pioneers during the Ten-Year World Crusade, and even went so far as to name the first pioneers in an area as Knights of Baha'u'llah.

Also, when pioneering, you still have to live somewhere, and can teach in that neighbourhood, so it still works.

But I don't feel like writing about pioneers today.  Today my thoughts are in my own neighbourhood.

And for some reason, I'm also thinking about the Letters of the Living.

It occurred to me the other day that the Bab sent His Letters back to their home areas to teach.  In the Dawn-Breakers, it says, "To each He assigned his own native province as the field of his labours."

As I read the stories from all over the world about the successes in teaching, it seems to me that we all really are like those "heroes of God", bringing the first light of Dawn to the waiting masses.  And those masses are our neighbours.  So there really is something to be said about the importance of teaching in your home area.  Even the Bab, right at the beginning, used that technique.

As I look over the guidance from the World Centre, the guidance seems so simple and clear: Get to know your neighbours.  When you do, see which core activities will naturally fit best into your neighbourhood.  Begin them to the limit of your resources, and see how they develop.  While you're at it, don't forget to talk directly about Baha'u'llah and Who He is.

I remember some very dear friends who, a few years ago, decided to go to every door in their neighbourhood to invite people to their children's class.  They made the invitation to everyone who answered their doors and, in the end, had a few children attend.

At a Feast in which they shared this "radical" method of getting children to attend, their efforts were dismissed by some of the friends as not suitable for most of us.  One person even said, "Well, it's easy for some people to go door-to-door."  They didn't understand the pain and difficulty faced by these two dear souls who were terrified to try this.  But, fortunately, these two angels of Baha were not daunted.  They kept at it.

Later, when they reflected on their efforts, they realized that most of their neighbours were elderly, or at least had children who were already grown up.  My friends commented that it seemed like a lot of effort for little return.  Oh, they were glad they did it, and felt they learned a lot, but were raising an excellent question.

One thing they learned was this: by only offering children's classes, they missed a great opportunity to begin a devotional gathering and invite people to that.  They agreed in retrospect that their neighbourhood would have been better served with this other core activity (which has been on-going for a few years as of this writing).

Now when they go out to invite their neighbours, they talk with them first and get to know them.  After a few minutes (it really doesn't take all that long to get to know someone) they are more aware of which core activity would suit the needs of their new friend.

Hey!  Wait a second.  Doesn't the Guardian allude to this in The Advent of Divine Justice?

Having on his own initiative, and undaunted by any hindrances with which either friend or foe may, unwittingly or deliberately, obstruct his path, resolved to arise and respond to the call of teaching, let him carefully consider every avenue of approach which he might utilize in his personal attempts to capture the attention, maintain the interest, and deepen the faith, of those whom he seeks to bring into the fold of his Faith. Let him survey the possibilities which the particular circumstances in which he lives offer him, evaluate their advantages, and proceed intelligently and systematically to utilize them for the achievement of the object he has in mind.


Wow!  He even addressed the "hindrances" that the friends may inadvertantly put in our way.

So, by simply knocking on the door, they were "capturing the attention".  The conversation, in which they were getting to know their neighbours, was a form of "maintaining the interest".  By listening closely to them, hearing their concerns and then considering which core activity was best suited to their interests, they were "carefully considering every avenue of approach" and "surveying the possibilities" of the different core activities, while at the same time "evaluating their advantages".  Then they "proceeded intelligently and systematically" to invite them to a core activity suited to their particular needs.  They were "deepening the faith" of their neighbours.

Hmm.  It seems like a plan is afoot.

And come to think of it, just a few pages earlier, there is this stirring passage:


Those who participate in such a campaign... must... thoroughly familiarize themselves with the various aspects of the history and teachings of their Faith. In their efforts to achieve this purpose they must study for themselves, conscientiously and painstakingly, the literature of their Faith, delve into its teachings, assimilate its laws and principles, ponder its admonitions, tenets and purposes, commit to memory certain of its exhortations and prayers, master the essentials of its administration, and keep abreast of its current affairs and latest developments... They must devote special attention to the investigation of those institutions and circumstances that are directly connected with the origin and birth of their Faith, with the station claimed by its Forerunner, and with the laws revealed by its Author.


Having acquired, in their essentials, these prerequisites of success in the teaching field, they must, whenever they contemplate undertaking any specific mission in... endeavor, whenever feasible, to acquire a certain proficiency in the languages spoken by the inhabitants... and a knowledge of their customs, habits, and outlook.

Why do I hear echoes of Anna's presentation in this first paragraph?  And the need to know our neighbours, echoed in the second?

But this all leads to my real question, one that has been asked by so many friends: What is a neighbourhood?

I tried using my macro-micro approach by looking at the definition of a cluster: Among the factors that determine the boundaries of a cluster are culture, language, patterns of transport, infrastructure, and the social and economic life of the inhabitants.


But really, that seemed too complicated for my simple mind.  So, instead, I watched my own neighbourhood.  How did I know where its boundaries ended?

Come to think of it, how did I know the boundaries of a nieghbourhood in another cluster I visited?

Simple.  I watched the children.

Today, I think of a neighbourhood as a place where the children will walk.

And then, when I want to begin teaching, I see where they hang out.  Chances are that the parents will be there, too.

The children are usually interested in joining the group (I don't often refer to them as classes, for that gives the impression of a sit-down thing in which you have to learn at a desk), and the parents love the idea of the morality described when I speak of these groups.  They often want to attend and make sure it's all ok, which gives me the greater opportunity of speaking with them directly about the Source of these classes.  They are then interested in groups for their young teens (which we confuse them by calling them junior youth, as if anyone other than a Baha'i knows what that means yet), and study circles for themselves.  Oh, and someone eventually asks for a devotional gathering, usually one of the children.  It's so beautiful.  Before you know it, your neighbourhood has been transformed.

And the next thing you know, there are a dozen kids in the park playing Dawn-Breakers and fighting over who gets to be Mulla Husayn and who is Quddus.

Ah well, some things never change.