A few years ago I had the wonderful bounty of working with a few friends to help organize some of the holy days in our community. While this in itself was not unusual, I learned, in retrospect, that our approach was. And the results? Well, the results still, to this day, amaze me. It obviously left a positive impression on some others, for they are still talking about those celebrations over 10 years later.
What was different? Well, I'm sure it's not going to be news to you, dear Reader, but this method of designing the celebrations was new to me, so I thought I would share it here.
First, after getting permission from our Spiritual Assembly, we began our consultations six months ahead of time. That's right: six months. In one particular case, we were planning the celebrations for Ridvan, and started our planning way back in September. That alone was enough to surprise me. I had always thought that preparing for the holy day celebrations was nothing more than selecting a few quotes, and deciding who was going to bake the cookies. Silly me.
At our first meeting we each brought a few quotes and stories from the Writings about the significance of the holy day. We began with prayers, lots of prayers, and then looked at what the Writings said about Ridvan.
As we read through Baha'u'llah's own Words, and absorbed a bit about the significance that He placed upon that most festive season, our attitude began to change. We all started to feel a deeper appreciation of that time of year. Like most times when I read the Writings, I can't quite explain what happened, but I know that something changed inside me.
We put aside everything we thought we knew, everything we had ever seen about how to celebrate Baha'i holy days, and began with those descriptions. We read them slowly, and I don't mean one word every few seconds. No. We read a passage of two, a few sentences, maybe even an entire paragraph, and then talked about it. After all, how can you read such incredibly potent stuff without talking about how you are moved by it?
We each spoke from our heart, allowing the Words to just wash over us, carry us away, and then, when it felt right, the next person would read a bit more and we would go through it all again.
At some point, usually a few paragraphs in, we would all gravitate toward a particular phrase. The one time that I'm thinking of, the phrase we latched onto was "the divine springtime has come". Another year it was "announce the joyful tidings". I don't think the particular phrase mattered, just that it was something from the Writings.
Now we had our focus, our theme. And it wasn't just a random theme, but a solid theme based on Baha'u'llah's Words.
From there we began to give out assignments, or we would volunteer. My friend Christie always volunteered to decorate the room, and I usually volunteered to do story-telling, and help organize the program. Others would do the food, or the music part of the program, as incorporating music wasn't a strong point of mine.
The most beautiful thing about it all is that whatever we did, there was a continuity throughout the program because we all had the same phrase we were working with. This is what held it all together, what gave a sense of unity to the whole thing.
For the few years that we did this, the celebrations were unlike anything I had ever seen before, or since. While I have seen some more beautiful celebrations, or commemorations, or some that were far more poignant, these ones were each, in their own way, unique. (I just had the great pleasure of attending a garden party celebration of the Master's visit to the West, with costumes from 1912 and all, but that wasn't a holy day. Beautiful and memorable, nonetheless.)
I think I'd like to try organizing a holy day again with this method. I only hope that my Assembly will say "yes" when I ask.
Oh, and I really pray that others will help, too. I know that I could never do it on my own.
* * * * *
I just re-read the above and was reminded of another Ridvan celebration we organized. I can't recall what the unifying phrase was, but it could easily have been "announce the joyful tidings".
We celebrated the 3 holy days of the Ridvan season in the Winnipeg Baha'i Centre, the first, ninth and twelfth days. But on the other days, we took our celebration on the road. We went around Manitoba and celebrated Ridvan with the outlying communities. As the distances involved were sometimes quite far, and the friends were fairly isolated, this was a great opportunity for them to actually celebrate with people from the "big city".
There was something we found in the quotes we were looking at that talked about traveling, and since we had tossed out our preconceptions of what a celebration should look like, going to visit the friends just seemed like a natural thing.
I still recall the joy of those smaller celebrations when there was sometimes only a handful of us.
Given that there are many Baha'is in smaller communities around Vancouver Island, and September is just around the corner, I wonder if we could do something similar for next Ridvan. Hmmm.
Oh, and dear Reader, are there any celebrations that stand out in your mind that others could benefit from? I'd love to hear them. Thanks.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Yet Another Hidden Word (Number 70, Persian)
Have you ever had "vuja de" while reading something? The sense that you have never read anything like it ever before?
I swear I must have read the Hidden Words dozens of times, at least, and yet, when I read this passage the other day not a single phrase out of it sounded even remotely familiar. There have been many times when I've read passages in the Writings that took on a whole new meaning that it was as if I never read them before, but this one seemed completely new to me. Well, except for the first three words.
Aside: I was in a meeting one evening, and we were getting ready to say prayers. We were all talking quietly while waiting for the last few people to come in, and a few of us had already chosen the prayers we wanted to say. One guy looked up and asked the man across from him, "What's that Hidden Word you always read?" The other man looked perplexed and asked, "How does it begin?" Without pause, I piped in, "O Son of..." There was just that moment of precious silence before everyone in the room burst out laughing.
So, yes, I did recognize the first three words. But the rest of it? I must have picked up a new edition that just recently included it in there, for I've never read it before.
Oh, sorry. Which one?
Marielle and were talking about it yesterday and she pointed out to me something very interesting about human nature, or at least my own nature. I see myself in her observation, even if nobody else thinks it refers to them. She said that the Hidden Words seem to be easily divided into two groups for most us: those that refer to us, and those that don't.
"O Son of Spirit"? "O Son of Being"? "O Son of Utterance"? "O Son of the Wondrous Vision"? "Sure! Those refer to me. I can see myself in those terms." Every single one of the openings in the Arabic Hidden Words, and most in the Persian? We can, with great joy, see Baha'u'llah referring to us in those lofty and majestic terms.
"O Son of Dust"? "O Fleeting Shadow"? Hey, they're just reminders of our ephemeral state on this earth. Sure, we can say, they refer to us.
"O Essence of Negligence"? Wait a second. "O Ye that are Lying as Dead on the Couch of Heedlessness"? Uhm... "O Ye that are Foolish, Yet Have a Name to be Wise"? Ah. Obviously not me. "O Ye Seeming Fair Yet Inwardly Foul"? Phew. I can breathe a sigh of relief, for these obviously don't refer to me.
Really?
Now it may just be me, and remember, this is nothing official, just my own simple opinion, but I think Baha'u'llah is calling out to each and every one of us. When I look at myself, I mean really look deep inside and examine myself in the light of this Revelation, and ask myself, "Am I negligent? Am I heedless? Foolish? Am I as good a person as some of my friends think, or am I inwardly foul?" I have to admit to myself that every one of these epithets can refer to me. (Well, maybe I'm not the absolute essence of negligence, but I am negligent at times.)
Another aside: I was about to say that I don't have a "name to be wise", but then I remembered Baha'u'llah's phrase, "the eternal meads of celestial wisdom". And so, a word of wisdom to you, dear Reader: Save your children the grief of having a name that is in the Writings. There is no way that we can ever live up to it. (Says the father of a child named "Shoghi".)
Maybe I just better get back to that Hidden Word I was supposed to be writing about.
"O Son of Worldliness"? Who is He referring to? Well, once again, I think He is talking to each of us. At the very least, I know He is talking to me. To be worldly, after all, means to be concerned with this world, as opposed to the spiritual world. I am only striving to overcome this, and here, in this Hidden Word, Baha'u'llah reminds us of the importance of doing that.
Pleasant, He says, is the next world. Glorious it is, if only we will take the time to pass beyond this world in our spirit. And if we desire "holy ecstasy", that is what He is offering us within His teachings. This Faith, His teachings, offer us that promised freedom from pain and death. But we have to be careful, for He doesn't offer us freedom from the pains of this world, but from the turmoil of the spirit. Remember, He extols that "crimson ink that hath been shed in (His) path", and those who drank of the cup of martyrdom often seemed to pass beyond the veil of pain despite their countless sufferings. And any work done in His path is truly a joy.
Yeah, it makes me glad that I actually read this passage this time around. It really is such a good reminder of what is important in this world.
I swear I must have read the Hidden Words dozens of times, at least, and yet, when I read this passage the other day not a single phrase out of it sounded even remotely familiar. There have been many times when I've read passages in the Writings that took on a whole new meaning that it was as if I never read them before, but this one seemed completely new to me. Well, except for the first three words.
Aside: I was in a meeting one evening, and we were getting ready to say prayers. We were all talking quietly while waiting for the last few people to come in, and a few of us had already chosen the prayers we wanted to say. One guy looked up and asked the man across from him, "What's that Hidden Word you always read?" The other man looked perplexed and asked, "How does it begin?" Without pause, I piped in, "O Son of..." There was just that moment of precious silence before everyone in the room burst out laughing.
So, yes, I did recognize the first three words. But the rest of it? I must have picked up a new edition that just recently included it in there, for I've never read it before.
Oh, sorry. Which one?
O SON OF WORLDLINESS!
Pleasant is the realm of being, wert thou to attain thereto; glorious is the domain of eternity, shouldst thou pass beyond the world of mortality; sweet is the holy ecstasy if thou drinkest of the mystic chalice from the hands of the celestial Youth. Shouldst thou attain this station, thou wouldst be freed from destruction and death, from toil and sin.
Marielle and were talking about it yesterday and she pointed out to me something very interesting about human nature, or at least my own nature. I see myself in her observation, even if nobody else thinks it refers to them. She said that the Hidden Words seem to be easily divided into two groups for most us: those that refer to us, and those that don't.
"O Son of Spirit"? "O Son of Being"? "O Son of Utterance"? "O Son of the Wondrous Vision"? "Sure! Those refer to me. I can see myself in those terms." Every single one of the openings in the Arabic Hidden Words, and most in the Persian? We can, with great joy, see Baha'u'llah referring to us in those lofty and majestic terms.
"O Son of Dust"? "O Fleeting Shadow"? Hey, they're just reminders of our ephemeral state on this earth. Sure, we can say, they refer to us.
"O Essence of Negligence"? Wait a second. "O Ye that are Lying as Dead on the Couch of Heedlessness"? Uhm... "O Ye that are Foolish, Yet Have a Name to be Wise"? Ah. Obviously not me. "O Ye Seeming Fair Yet Inwardly Foul"? Phew. I can breathe a sigh of relief, for these obviously don't refer to me.
Really?
Now it may just be me, and remember, this is nothing official, just my own simple opinion, but I think Baha'u'llah is calling out to each and every one of us. When I look at myself, I mean really look deep inside and examine myself in the light of this Revelation, and ask myself, "Am I negligent? Am I heedless? Foolish? Am I as good a person as some of my friends think, or am I inwardly foul?" I have to admit to myself that every one of these epithets can refer to me. (Well, maybe I'm not the absolute essence of negligence, but I am negligent at times.)
Another aside: I was about to say that I don't have a "name to be wise", but then I remembered Baha'u'llah's phrase, "the eternal meads of celestial wisdom". And so, a word of wisdom to you, dear Reader: Save your children the grief of having a name that is in the Writings. There is no way that we can ever live up to it. (Says the father of a child named "Shoghi".)
Maybe I just better get back to that Hidden Word I was supposed to be writing about.
"O Son of Worldliness"? Who is He referring to? Well, once again, I think He is talking to each of us. At the very least, I know He is talking to me. To be worldly, after all, means to be concerned with this world, as opposed to the spiritual world. I am only striving to overcome this, and here, in this Hidden Word, Baha'u'llah reminds us of the importance of doing that.
Pleasant, He says, is the next world. Glorious it is, if only we will take the time to pass beyond this world in our spirit. And if we desire "holy ecstasy", that is what He is offering us within His teachings. This Faith, His teachings, offer us that promised freedom from pain and death. But we have to be careful, for He doesn't offer us freedom from the pains of this world, but from the turmoil of the spirit. Remember, He extols that "crimson ink that hath been shed in (His) path", and those who drank of the cup of martyrdom often seemed to pass beyond the veil of pain despite their countless sufferings. And any work done in His path is truly a joy.
Yeah, it makes me glad that I actually read this passage this time around. It really is such a good reminder of what is important in this world.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Another Hidden Word (Number 18, Persian)
Here is another Hidden Word that I just don't quite understand. I mean, I understand some of the basic meanings of it, but I always feel like I'm missing something fairly obvious.
Personally, I've always thought that Baha'u'llah was addressing the Concourse on High, but that doesn't really make a lot of sense to me, upon reflection.
No. I think He is addressing us, again. Remember, heaven is described as nearness to God, so if we recognize the Messenger of God for today, and are near Him, could there be any higher paradise?
I guess I may have to reassess my vision of myself once more. (Hey, my Mother-in-Law already calls me an Apostle, for some reason that I'll never understand, so maybe I better begin to think a bit... well, better of myself. If not, I may hear from her.)
So, working on the presumption that He is addressing me (and you, too, dear Reader, of which I have no doubt), then I have to ask, who am I to proclaim all this to? Who are the "children of assurance"? As I can't find that phrase anywhere else in the Writings, I'm sort of left on my own for that one.
I guess it refers to those who are absolutely certain about the "Day of Resurrection" and the "End Times". Muhammad refers quite a bit to them and there is a lot of importance placed on them in the Writings. After all, why would we bother proclaiming to someone about this new garden appearing if they don't believe that it can happen in the first place.
It sort of reminds me of the Tablet of Ahmad, where He is "proclaiming to the sincere ones the glad tidings of the nearness of God". It seems as if He is alluding to the idea that you can't be a sincere Muslim if you don't believe in the Return. Of course, I also don't understand how you can be a "sincere" Christian if you don't believe in His return, either, but who am I to judge?
And just what is it that we are proclaiming? A new garden. We are announcing that there is a new Faith, with new guidance from God. Once again, God has touched humanity with a new Message and all the angels on high are singing its praises.
The "denizens of the realm on high and the immortal dwellers of the exalted paradise" are all jumping for joy. Baha'u'llah tells us that if we strive, then we can join that exalted company, too. Presumably when we die, and enter into that next realm, we will be called to account for our deeds. And if those deeds are worthy, if we have made sincere efforts at trying to help usher in that long promised "Kingdom of God on earth", then we, too, will dwell in that "exalted paradise".
But there is one more thing that catches my attention. Not only are to strive to become a member of that marvelous group, we are also to strive to "unravel the mysteries of love" from the "wind-flowers" that grow in that new garden, and "learn the secret of divine and consummate wisdom from its eternal fruits".
We are not only to do our best to spread this message, which is mostly of benefit to others, but also to do our best to understand it, which is of tremendous benefit to ourselves. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Both are of benefit to both, but come on. You know what I mean.)
Oh, and I was wondering, as I read this: what is a wind-flower? It is an anemone.
Aside: A friend of mine once gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, consisting of ferns and anemones. It was really great, but I had to ask, "With fronds like these, who needs anemones?"
Anemones are really quite amazing flowers. They come in all sorts of types and colours. Their variety is staggering. And in folk-lore, they symbolize both anticipation and a sense of having been forsaken. Both meanings sure seem to speak of the Messengers of God, to me at least.
In the Kitab-i-Iqan, Baha'u'llah also refers to "the anemones of the garden of love", so there is a consistency about referring to them in the context of love.
But regardless of the meaning of flowers, this is still a beautiful quote, and not only tells us what our job is, and who we should be serving, it also tells us what we can get out of doing it.
"Solaced", He says, "are the eyes of them that enter and abide" in this garden.
And as Abdu'l-Baha is reported to have said, "At the gate of the garden, some stand and look within, but do not care to enter. Others step inside, behold its beauty, but do not penetrate far. Still others encircle this garden, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers; and having enjoyed its full beauty, pass out again by the same gate. But there are always some who enter, and becoming intoxicated with the splendor of what they behold, remain for life to tend the garden."
Reading this again, I feel that I have definitely gotten more out of this Hidden Word by writing about it, but I'm still absolutely certain that there is even more in there.
O YE DWELLERS IN THE HIGHEST PARADISE!You may recall that in the last post, about Hidden Word number 66, I said Baha'u'llah only address us human-types. Well, here I seem to be mistaken. Are we really the "dwellers in the highest paradise"? Personally, I don't feel it, but what do I know. Maybe we are. Maybe I am, if only I would learn to see myself that way.
Proclaim unto the children of assurance that within the realms of holiness, nigh unto the celestial paradise, a new garden hath appeared, round which circle the denizens of the realm on high and the immortal dwellers of the exalted paradise. Strive, then, that ye may attain that station, that ye may unravel the mysteries of love from its wind-flowers and learn the secret of divine and consummate wisdom from its eternal fruits. Solaced are the eyes of them that enter and abide therein!
Personally, I've always thought that Baha'u'llah was addressing the Concourse on High, but that doesn't really make a lot of sense to me, upon reflection.
No. I think He is addressing us, again. Remember, heaven is described as nearness to God, so if we recognize the Messenger of God for today, and are near Him, could there be any higher paradise?
I guess I may have to reassess my vision of myself once more. (Hey, my Mother-in-Law already calls me an Apostle, for some reason that I'll never understand, so maybe I better begin to think a bit... well, better of myself. If not, I may hear from her.)
So, working on the presumption that He is addressing me (and you, too, dear Reader, of which I have no doubt), then I have to ask, who am I to proclaim all this to? Who are the "children of assurance"? As I can't find that phrase anywhere else in the Writings, I'm sort of left on my own for that one.
I guess it refers to those who are absolutely certain about the "Day of Resurrection" and the "End Times". Muhammad refers quite a bit to them and there is a lot of importance placed on them in the Writings. After all, why would we bother proclaiming to someone about this new garden appearing if they don't believe that it can happen in the first place.
It sort of reminds me of the Tablet of Ahmad, where He is "proclaiming to the sincere ones the glad tidings of the nearness of God". It seems as if He is alluding to the idea that you can't be a sincere Muslim if you don't believe in the Return. Of course, I also don't understand how you can be a "sincere" Christian if you don't believe in His return, either, but who am I to judge?
And just what is it that we are proclaiming? A new garden. We are announcing that there is a new Faith, with new guidance from God. Once again, God has touched humanity with a new Message and all the angels on high are singing its praises.
The "denizens of the realm on high and the immortal dwellers of the exalted paradise" are all jumping for joy. Baha'u'llah tells us that if we strive, then we can join that exalted company, too. Presumably when we die, and enter into that next realm, we will be called to account for our deeds. And if those deeds are worthy, if we have made sincere efforts at trying to help usher in that long promised "Kingdom of God on earth", then we, too, will dwell in that "exalted paradise".
But there is one more thing that catches my attention. Not only are to strive to become a member of that marvelous group, we are also to strive to "unravel the mysteries of love" from the "wind-flowers" that grow in that new garden, and "learn the secret of divine and consummate wisdom from its eternal fruits".
We are not only to do our best to spread this message, which is mostly of benefit to others, but also to do our best to understand it, which is of tremendous benefit to ourselves. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Both are of benefit to both, but come on. You know what I mean.)
Oh, and I was wondering, as I read this: what is a wind-flower? It is an anemone.
Aside: A friend of mine once gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, consisting of ferns and anemones. It was really great, but I had to ask, "With fronds like these, who needs anemones?"
Anemones are really quite amazing flowers. They come in all sorts of types and colours. Their variety is staggering. And in folk-lore, they symbolize both anticipation and a sense of having been forsaken. Both meanings sure seem to speak of the Messengers of God, to me at least.
In the Kitab-i-Iqan, Baha'u'llah also refers to "the anemones of the garden of love", so there is a consistency about referring to them in the context of love.
But regardless of the meaning of flowers, this is still a beautiful quote, and not only tells us what our job is, and who we should be serving, it also tells us what we can get out of doing it.
"Solaced", He says, "are the eyes of them that enter and abide" in this garden.
And as Abdu'l-Baha is reported to have said, "At the gate of the garden, some stand and look within, but do not care to enter. Others step inside, behold its beauty, but do not penetrate far. Still others encircle this garden, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers; and having enjoyed its full beauty, pass out again by the same gate. But there are always some who enter, and becoming intoxicated with the splendor of what they behold, remain for life to tend the garden."
Reading this again, I feel that I have definitely gotten more out of this Hidden Word by writing about it, but I'm still absolutely certain that there is even more in there.
A Hidden Word (Number 66)
You know, I've spent a lot of time lately writing about all sorts of things that are bouncing around in my head, but I haven't spent a lot of time looking at the Writings here. Time to fix that. I think it's time that I get back to what I really wanted to write about when I first started this blog: the Faith.
I was reading through the Hidden Words the other day and ran across one of those pieces that just confused the bejeebies out me when I was investigating. Still does, actually.
To start, who is He addressing? The "children of the divine and invisible essence"? I can only presume that this refers to all of us. After all, He does say that we are created noble, and speaks at length about our spiritual creation. So that's fairly easy. I'm certain He is referring to all of us.
Alright. That last paragraph sounded like I didn't really know that. Of course I did. I mean, as far as I can tell, Baha'u'llah only addressed us human-type people. But let's get back to that phrase for a moment: When you hear the phrase "child of the divine and invisible essence", do you really think of yourself? Can you actually picture yourself as a "child of the divine and invisible essence"? I don't know about you, but that sure doesn't sound like my image of myself.
It seems to me that this is yet another one of those moments in which Baha'u'llah is asking us to reconceptualize how we envision ourselves, not to mention others. If we were to truly see ourselves as a child of that "divine and invisible essence", wouldn't we act a bit differently than we usually do? And if we saw each other as those "children of the divine and invisible essence", wouldn't we generally treat each other a bit better than we do? I won't even go into the whole idea of how we would begin to really see ourselves as siblings if we recognize that we are all children of the same "divine and invisible" etcetera etcetera. (Come on, how many times do you want me to type that?)
But what about the next phrase? We will be hindered from loving Him? Ok. That just confuses me, so I might as well start where I usually do: with the definition of a word.
"Hindered" means to either delay or stop something from happening. As I don't think He means that we will never be able to love God, I can only presume He means the delaying aspect of the word. Or perhaps that we shall never be able to love God as much as we would like. Our hearts are just too small to be able to truly love God as He deserves.
But there may be another aspect to that, too: peer pressure.
In this world, where the "vitality of men's belief in God is dying out in every land", it is getting harder and harder to be able to believe in God. There are so many people who feel that it is archaic, or somehow non-scientific, to recognize God. There is this growing sense of feeling that it is somehow wrong to believe, without recognizing that what is really happening is that we are growing into a more mature understanding of our Creator and of creation.
On the other hand, there is also this growing pocket of fanaticism in various religious groups around the world. More and more are not only becoming increasingly judgemental, they are also threatening to inflict, or actually perpetuating, serious injury upon those believe differently. This not only has the effect of dividing people according to bizarre lines of belief, it also has the sense of ostracizing those of more moderate beliefs.
All of this becomes a hindrance in our ability to openly talk about God. Many become "perturbed as they make mention of Me".
Here in the West, we are told that the two things we should not openly talk about are religion and politics. Now, I can understand the latter, but the former? Just joking. Anything that causes people to speak angrily against each other is right out, but if we approach others with respect and love, we should be able to share our thoughts and views quite openly.
This is but one way in which we can become perturbed when we mention God.
Another way is when we feel unworthy or ashamed of mentioning Him.
Aside: I remember, and have told before, the story of the member of the Universal House of Justice who was weeping because he felt he hadn't been able to do enough to serve the Cause. That is the type of "shame" I am speaking of here.
In the end, though, we know that God is too big for minds to grasp. Whatever we think God is, He is infinitely bigger. And anyone who says that they understand God has, as Baha'u'llah says, "testified to his own ignorance".
So even though I have a few meager thoughts about this Hidden Word, it still really is beyond me.
I was reading through the Hidden Words the other day and ran across one of those pieces that just confused the bejeebies out me when I was investigating. Still does, actually.
O CHILDREN OF THE DIVINE AND INVISIBLE ESSENCE!
Ye shall be hindered from loving Me and souls shall be perturbed as they make mention of Me. For minds cannot grasp Me nor hearts contain Me.
To start, who is He addressing? The "children of the divine and invisible essence"? I can only presume that this refers to all of us. After all, He does say that we are created noble, and speaks at length about our spiritual creation. So that's fairly easy. I'm certain He is referring to all of us.
Alright. That last paragraph sounded like I didn't really know that. Of course I did. I mean, as far as I can tell, Baha'u'llah only addressed us human-type people. But let's get back to that phrase for a moment: When you hear the phrase "child of the divine and invisible essence", do you really think of yourself? Can you actually picture yourself as a "child of the divine and invisible essence"? I don't know about you, but that sure doesn't sound like my image of myself.
It seems to me that this is yet another one of those moments in which Baha'u'llah is asking us to reconceptualize how we envision ourselves, not to mention others. If we were to truly see ourselves as a child of that "divine and invisible essence", wouldn't we act a bit differently than we usually do? And if we saw each other as those "children of the divine and invisible essence", wouldn't we generally treat each other a bit better than we do? I won't even go into the whole idea of how we would begin to really see ourselves as siblings if we recognize that we are all children of the same "divine and invisible" etcetera etcetera. (Come on, how many times do you want me to type that?)
But what about the next phrase? We will be hindered from loving Him? Ok. That just confuses me, so I might as well start where I usually do: with the definition of a word.
"Hindered" means to either delay or stop something from happening. As I don't think He means that we will never be able to love God, I can only presume He means the delaying aspect of the word. Or perhaps that we shall never be able to love God as much as we would like. Our hearts are just too small to be able to truly love God as He deserves.
But there may be another aspect to that, too: peer pressure.
In this world, where the "vitality of men's belief in God is dying out in every land", it is getting harder and harder to be able to believe in God. There are so many people who feel that it is archaic, or somehow non-scientific, to recognize God. There is this growing sense of feeling that it is somehow wrong to believe, without recognizing that what is really happening is that we are growing into a more mature understanding of our Creator and of creation.
On the other hand, there is also this growing pocket of fanaticism in various religious groups around the world. More and more are not only becoming increasingly judgemental, they are also threatening to inflict, or actually perpetuating, serious injury upon those believe differently. This not only has the effect of dividing people according to bizarre lines of belief, it also has the sense of ostracizing those of more moderate beliefs.
All of this becomes a hindrance in our ability to openly talk about God. Many become "perturbed as they make mention of Me".
Here in the West, we are told that the two things we should not openly talk about are religion and politics. Now, I can understand the latter, but the former? Just joking. Anything that causes people to speak angrily against each other is right out, but if we approach others with respect and love, we should be able to share our thoughts and views quite openly.
This is but one way in which we can become perturbed when we mention God.
Another way is when we feel unworthy or ashamed of mentioning Him.
Aside: I remember, and have told before, the story of the member of the Universal House of Justice who was weeping because he felt he hadn't been able to do enough to serve the Cause. That is the type of "shame" I am speaking of here.
In the end, though, we know that God is too big for minds to grasp. Whatever we think God is, He is infinitely bigger. And anyone who says that they understand God has, as Baha'u'llah says, "testified to his own ignorance".
So even though I have a few meager thoughts about this Hidden Word, it still really is beyond me.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Pride and Humility
There are certain moments in human history that resonate far beyond their due. The sinking of the Titanic in 1912, the attack on Pearl Harbour in 1941, the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963 and the attacks on the World Trade Centre in 2001 are but a few examples that come to mind. It's not that these events are not significant, nor tragic, but just that they seem to reverberate within our social psyche far beyond what we would expect.
Looking at the Titanic, it is certainly easy to understand why. The ship was supposed to be, in a sense, man's triumph over nature. People felt we had finally built a boat that could not be sunk. We, as a people, were so confident in this that the captain, himself, is reputed to have said, "Even God cannot sink this ship." It was, in short, a boast that spoke of our confidence in our human abilities, while overlooking our dependency upon our Creator.
As Abdu'l-Baha said, "God has endowed man with intelligence so that he may safeguard and protect himself. Therefore, he must provide and surround himself with all that scientific skill can produce. He must be deliberate, thoughtful and thorough in his purposes, build the best ship and provide the most experienced captain; yet, withal, let him rely upon God and consider God as the one Keeper."
While the disaster of the Titanic, in hindsight, was the result of shoddy workmanship, underplanning, and other such human faults, it was still a stark reminder that we are never as far beyond nature as we may like. And even though the number of people killed, just over 1500, was not all that large in terms of disasters in history, it was the psychological impact upon humanity that has made it the epic disaster that it was.
Another example of this type of psychological trauma was 9-11. Again, in terms of human lives lost, while numerous and very tragic, it wasn't all that large a number. More people were dying daily due to starvation and lack of clean drinking water. But it was the effect of the attacks that made it so grievous.
From what I can tell, there were two different things that happened that day that caused this. The first was that it shattered the belief that the United States, or North America, was invulnerable to attack on domestic soil. The other was that it made a strong statement on the fragility of the economic situation of the world.
In terms of the first, there were only a few other times that attacks occurred on US soil, against the US itself. While the War of 1812 and the Mexican-American War come to mind, as well as Pearl Harbour, 9-11 was far more "at home" for most of us. There was no escaping it. It happened right there, in a big city, today. It was not fast on the heels of the Revolutionary War, in some distant outpost, or a remote island that wasn't even an actual state yet. This was more immediate.
Shortly after those attacks that launched the "war on terrorism", people all over the States were watching the skies with a bit of fear or trepidation. I remember getting off the train in Chicago a few months later and watching as people, myself included, glanced up at the Sears Tower, obviously checking to see if any unscheduled planes were heading towards it. And this just speaks of the physical attack on the Towers.
In terms of the psychological effect, I look at what the World Trade Centre signified for many of my generation. It was symbol of the unassailable wealth of the country, of the very ideology of the country. It was as a result of the attacks of that day that the US launched its so-called war on terror, the war that undermined the wealth of that great nation.
As a Baha'i I was well aware of the statements in the Writings about how this seeming supremacy would not last, and I often wondered what would precipitate the collapse of the system, but it wasn't until that morning, watching the videos of those planes colliding and the buildings falling, that I began to see how it would inevitably happen.
Both of these incidents, the Titanic and 9-11, remind me of the story of the Tower of Babel. They all are firmly embedded in the psyche of our people, and they all tell of the effects of forgetting our humility, a word which has the same root as the very word "human".
"Pride not yourselves in your glory," says Baha'u'llah, "and be not ashamed of abasement." He also reminds us that "Humility exalteth man to the heaven of glory and power, whilst pride abaseth him to the depths of wretchedness and degradation."
But not all events that are firmly fixed in the collective memory of humanity are of a negative nature. You only need to ask those who were alive at the time where they were when the first people walked on the moon to realize it.
Looking at the Titanic, it is certainly easy to understand why. The ship was supposed to be, in a sense, man's triumph over nature. People felt we had finally built a boat that could not be sunk. We, as a people, were so confident in this that the captain, himself, is reputed to have said, "Even God cannot sink this ship." It was, in short, a boast that spoke of our confidence in our human abilities, while overlooking our dependency upon our Creator.
As Abdu'l-Baha said, "God has endowed man with intelligence so that he may safeguard and protect himself. Therefore, he must provide and surround himself with all that scientific skill can produce. He must be deliberate, thoughtful and thorough in his purposes, build the best ship and provide the most experienced captain; yet, withal, let him rely upon God and consider God as the one Keeper."
While the disaster of the Titanic, in hindsight, was the result of shoddy workmanship, underplanning, and other such human faults, it was still a stark reminder that we are never as far beyond nature as we may like. And even though the number of people killed, just over 1500, was not all that large in terms of disasters in history, it was the psychological impact upon humanity that has made it the epic disaster that it was.
Another example of this type of psychological trauma was 9-11. Again, in terms of human lives lost, while numerous and very tragic, it wasn't all that large a number. More people were dying daily due to starvation and lack of clean drinking water. But it was the effect of the attacks that made it so grievous.
From what I can tell, there were two different things that happened that day that caused this. The first was that it shattered the belief that the United States, or North America, was invulnerable to attack on domestic soil. The other was that it made a strong statement on the fragility of the economic situation of the world.
In terms of the first, there were only a few other times that attacks occurred on US soil, against the US itself. While the War of 1812 and the Mexican-American War come to mind, as well as Pearl Harbour, 9-11 was far more "at home" for most of us. There was no escaping it. It happened right there, in a big city, today. It was not fast on the heels of the Revolutionary War, in some distant outpost, or a remote island that wasn't even an actual state yet. This was more immediate.
Shortly after those attacks that launched the "war on terrorism", people all over the States were watching the skies with a bit of fear or trepidation. I remember getting off the train in Chicago a few months later and watching as people, myself included, glanced up at the Sears Tower, obviously checking to see if any unscheduled planes were heading towards it. And this just speaks of the physical attack on the Towers.
In terms of the psychological effect, I look at what the World Trade Centre signified for many of my generation. It was symbol of the unassailable wealth of the country, of the very ideology of the country. It was as a result of the attacks of that day that the US launched its so-called war on terror, the war that undermined the wealth of that great nation.
As a Baha'i I was well aware of the statements in the Writings about how this seeming supremacy would not last, and I often wondered what would precipitate the collapse of the system, but it wasn't until that morning, watching the videos of those planes colliding and the buildings falling, that I began to see how it would inevitably happen.
Both of these incidents, the Titanic and 9-11, remind me of the story of the Tower of Babel. They all are firmly embedded in the psyche of our people, and they all tell of the effects of forgetting our humility, a word which has the same root as the very word "human".
"Pride not yourselves in your glory," says Baha'u'llah, "and be not ashamed of abasement." He also reminds us that "Humility exalteth man to the heaven of glory and power, whilst pride abaseth him to the depths of wretchedness and degradation."
But not all events that are firmly fixed in the collective memory of humanity are of a negative nature. You only need to ask those who were alive at the time where they were when the first people walked on the moon to realize it.
Appreciating the Moment
Well, here is the third of the articles that goes in the paper this week. I may write another one for them, but I'll probably just write a bit more here, instead.
http://communities.canada.com/victoriatimescolonist/blogs/spirituallyspeaking/archive/2011/08/22/appreciating-the-moment.aspx
http://communities.canada.com/victoriatimescolonist/blogs/spirituallyspeaking/archive/2011/08/22/appreciating-the-moment.aspx
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Training
It's pretty warm out there today. Of course, the fact that I was wearing a suit didn't help matters.
What was that? Why was I wearing a suit? Oh, sorry. I was at a celebration of the Master's visit to North America, and had the pleasure of doing a bit of story-telling, as well as a bit of music.
And that, dear Reader, is what I wanted to mention today.
While I was there, I had a wonderful little experience that really reminded me of the power of our intuition.
My job, so to speak, was to play a bit of music with my wife and a friend of ours (Taylor), and to mingle with people and tell them stories of the Master's visit. While I would love to go on and on about all the conversations I had, there is one that really stands out. Well, two, but only one that would interest you.
While I was walking around, I had a copy of The Promulgation of Universal Peace
in my hands, and a man came up to me to ask about it.
"Is this", he politely enquired, "the Baha'i Bible?"
"Uhm", I said so eloquently. I mean, I wasn't really sure what to say.
"Not really?" He could see my confusion about how to answer.
"Yeah, not really."
"Oh," he said, realizing why it was hard for me to respond, "it's only one of many."
"Exactly", I said, grateful at his quick explanation.
We talked for a little bit, and I found myself impelled to tell him the story of the revelation of the Kitab-i-Iqan. I talked about how it was revealed in a mere three days, and that Baha'u'llah had written for more than 40 years. He was visibly impressed.
I then asked him if I could read a very short paragraph to him out of the book I was holding. I said that I felt moved to read it to him. Although I didn't say anything, I blame it on that wily concourse on high. He graciously agreed, and I read the following:
He, along with the others who were listening to our conversation, was very moved by this, and read it again himself. He completely agreed with it, and talked about profound this understanding was. In fact, he went on for a few minutes about how wonderful this quote was.
Then he went on his way to talk to some others.
Only after he left did I learn that he was the Archbishop for Victoria.
What was that? Why was I wearing a suit? Oh, sorry. I was at a celebration of the Master's visit to North America, and had the pleasure of doing a bit of story-telling, as well as a bit of music.
And that, dear Reader, is what I wanted to mention today.
While I was there, I had a wonderful little experience that really reminded me of the power of our intuition.
My job, so to speak, was to play a bit of music with my wife and a friend of ours (Taylor), and to mingle with people and tell them stories of the Master's visit. While I would love to go on and on about all the conversations I had, there is one that really stands out. Well, two, but only one that would interest you.
While I was walking around, I had a copy of The Promulgation of Universal Peace
in my hands, and a man came up to me to ask about it."Is this", he politely enquired, "the Baha'i Bible?"
"Uhm", I said so eloquently. I mean, I wasn't really sure what to say.
"Not really?" He could see my confusion about how to answer.
"Yeah, not really."
"Oh," he said, realizing why it was hard for me to respond, "it's only one of many."
"Exactly", I said, grateful at his quick explanation.
We talked for a little bit, and I found myself impelled to tell him the story of the revelation of the Kitab-i-Iqan. I talked about how it was revealed in a mere three days, and that Baha'u'llah had written for more than 40 years. He was visibly impressed.
I then asked him if I could read a very short paragraph to him out of the book I was holding. I said that I felt moved to read it to him. Although I didn't say anything, I blame it on that wily concourse on high. He graciously agreed, and I read the following:
"(Baha'u'llah) suffered innumerable ordeals and calamities, but during His lifetime He trained in all regions many souls who were peerless. The purpose of the appearance of the Manifestations of God is the training of the people. That is the only result of Their mission, the real outcome. The outcome of the whole life of Jesus was the training of eleven disciples and two women. Why did He suffer troubles, ordeals and calamities? For the training of these few followers. That was the result of His life. The product of the life of Christ was not the churches but the illumined souls of those who believed in Him. Afterward, they spread His teachings."
He, along with the others who were listening to our conversation, was very moved by this, and read it again himself. He completely agreed with it, and talked about profound this understanding was. In fact, he went on for a few minutes about how wonderful this quote was.
Then he went on his way to talk to some others.
Only after he left did I learn that he was the Archbishop for Victoria.
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