The Power of Kings, ESW 55-67

Muhammad-Taqi is a man respected for his knowledge, and Baha'u'llah tells him that it is incumbent upon him to summon people towards “spiritual characteristics and goodly deeds”. We have seen what religion is supposed to produce, what knowledge is supposed to produce, and what the influence of a religious leader is supposed to produce. Now Baha'u'llah turns towards another group of people with influence, although on a somewhat larger scale.

“We pray God... that He may graciously assist the kings of the earth... to establish the Lesser Peace.”

I have to remind myself what it meant to be a king when Baha'u'llah was writing this. The American and French Revolutions had already challenged the old ideas of monarchy, and the revolutions of 1848 had shaken Europe. The Russian Revolution was only a few decades away. The whole question of political power was up in the air, and yet many of these rulers still exercised a degree of personal authority that is difficult for me to imagine today. Within their own realms, their word could quite literally determine whether someone prospered, suffered imprisonment, or even lived or died.

And Baha'u'llah asks them to limit themselves.

He tells them to convene a gathering, reduce their armaments and agree together upon measures that will ensure peace. In other words, these nearly all-powerful rulers are being asked to surrender some measure of their ability to act entirely as they please and begin acting as members of a larger community. And then there is a little detail I hadn't noticed before. Baha'u'llah says that the kings can send representatives to this gathering, but that it would be “preferable and more fitting” for them to attend themselves. Why?

I have to imagine what it would have been like if they actually did that. Imagine being one of these kings, accustomed to people waiting upon you, your word law, the highest unquestioned authority wherever you went. And now you travel to a gathering where everyone else is a king, too. Nobody there is your subject. You have to sit with them, listen, negotiate, and eventually agree to limits on what you yourself can do. You even have to think about the welfare of people who don't belong to your kingdom. I don't know if this is why Baha'u'llah says it would be “preferable and more fitting” for the kings themselves to attend, but I can imagine what such an experience would do to their understanding of their own power. It feels like an education in the true use of that power.

And if they don't do this, if they don't convene that gathering, the consequences fall upon their people. Baha'u'llah points to the enormous expenditures required for armies and says that they have placed an intolerable burden upon the population. The very military power that demonstrates the strength of the king can impoverish the people he is supposed to protect. His solution, though, is not simply to replace one military power with another, but to limit those armies to what is necessary for internal security. Then He points to the power of justice.

“Justice is a powerful force. It is, above all else, the conqueror of the citadels of the hearts and souls of men, and the revealer of the secrets of the world of being...”

And there are those citadels again. We've already seen Baha'u'llah tell His followers to “Unsheathe the sword of your tongue from the scabbard of utterance, for therewith ye can conquer the citadels of men's hearts.” We've seen weapons converted into instruments of peace, armies composed of wisdom and utterance, and the sword of virtuous character and upright conduct described as sharper than blades of steel. Now, while speaking to kings about reducing their armaments, Baha'u'llah tells us that justice is a “powerful force” capable of conquering those same citadels. Military power looks enormous until Baha'u'llah places another kind of power beside it.

But He doesn't stop there. He moves on to the power of knowledge, and in this case, a specific knowledge which, if applied, would largely, though not entirely, eliminate fear. “Whatever decreaseth fear increaseth courage.” And there is that question of useful knowledge again. Baha'u'llah doesn't merely speak of possessing this knowledge. He talks about what happens when it is applied. It produces something. It changes people. He goes on to say that, should God assist Him, He could explain this knowledge at length and reveal things in the arts and sciences that would “renew the world and the nations”. He even speaks of a word in the Crimson Book which is “capable of fully disclosing that force which is hid in men, nay of redoubling its potency”.

This is an interesting thing to say immediately after talking about the power of kings and armies. The kings possess military power that can impose their will upon nations. Justice possesses the power to conquer hearts. And now Baha'u'llah speaks of knowledge that can reduce fear, increase courage and reveal powers hidden within us. The further we go, the less obvious it becomes what we mean when we call someone powerful.

And that makes the next paragraph even more interesting. Baha'u'llah has just spoken of these extraordinary possibilities, but then says, “This Wronged One hath never had, nor hath He now any desire for leadership.” He isn't offering all of this as a means of gaining a throne. His aim, He says, is to extinguish the fire of hatred and enmity so that “the whole earth may come to be regarded as one country”.

Then He starts talking about miracles.

At first this can feel like another diversion, but I'm sure it isn't. Baha'u'llah certainly doesn't seem to be saying that miracles are impossible. Elsewhere He recounts how the clergy asked Him to perform one, and He agreed. He told them to choose the miracle themselves, but asked that they first agree in writing that, if He performed it, they would recognise His Cause. They never took Him up on the offer.

Perhaps that helps explain why miracles aren't the point here. A miracle may be an extraordinary demonstration of power, but what does it actually produce? Generally, a miracle can be a distraction. Instead of looking at the teachings, people ooh and aah over what can be seen as a magic trick. How often do people talk about the miracle of the loaves and fishes, while ignoring the incredible teachings in the sermon that preceded it? And so Baha'u'llah keeps directing Muhammad-Taqi back towards the teachings themselves, telling him to consider what has been revealed and to seek the counsel being offered.

But instead of doing this, people are spreading stories about Him. One of them claims that fifty thousand tumans are being sent to Him every year from Persia. Baha'u'llah's response is actually kind of funny. If this were true, He says, then perhaps people should be impressed. Here He is, a prisoner in Akka, with no worldly assistance, and somehow He has managed to establish such power over Persia that an enormous annual revenue is being sent to Him. That would be quite an achievement.

But it isn't true.

The reality is almost the opposite. Baha'u'llah describes the prisoners sometimes being without even the bare necessities, with some reduced to breaking stones for a living. The rumour gives Him wealth and influence. The reality gives Him imprisonment and deprivation. Once again, what power looks like from the outside and where it actually lies seem to be two very different things.

And still He doesn't retaliate. Enemies surround Him. Hatred has been kindled against Him. Accusations are spread about Him. Yet He continues to call people towards what is good, and repeatedly explains that His purpose is not to seize authority but to bring about unity. He has already told Muhammad-Taqi what His followers are to do: show good character, avoid contention, cleanse hearts of hatred, benefit mankind. If we're trying to understand the power Baha'u'llah is exercising, perhaps we need to look at what His influence causes people to do.

Even here, though, He doesn't present these teachings as merely His own programme. He points beyond Himself. What He has proclaimed, He says, comes from God. Once again the question isn't simply whether Muhammad-Taqi believes what other people are saying about Baha'u'llah. He is being asked to look for himself. Look at what Baha'u'llah has actually done. Look at what He has taught. Look at what those teachings produce.

And then the whole question of kingship seems to flip over.

Baha'u'llah began this section by telling the kings what they should do. They should gather together, reduce their armaments, protect their people from the burdens of war and establish peace. But by the time we reach paragraph 67, He tells the king that if he truly understood what was before him, he would regard his sovereignty as “the most contemptible of thy possessions”, abandon it to whoever desired it, and turn towards God.

But He doesn't quite leave it there.

“Neither wouldst thou ever be willing to bear the burden of dominion save for the purpose of helping thy Lord, the Exalted, the Most High.”

The burden of dominion. That's quite a change from where we began. These kings possess a degree of authority that is almost unimaginable to me. They sit at the top of their realms, surrounded by subjects who obey them, commanding armies capable of conquering other nations. Yet Baha'u'llah asks them to limit that power, to sit among their peers, to listen and negotiate, and to use their authority for peace. Along the way He shows us the power of justice, the power of knowledge, the power hidden within people, and the curious limitations of miraculous power. He tells us that He has no desire for leadership, and then finally tells a king that sovereignty itself is among the most contemptible of possessions.

Unless he is willing to carry its burden in service to something greater.

Perhaps that is the final change in how power appears in these paragraphs. Kingship begins as something a person possesses. It ends as a burden he carries.

The Leaves of Paradise, ESW 49-54

We just spent eighteen paragraphs looking at knowledge, and particularly at the difference between knowledge that merely “begins with words and ends with words” and knowledge that actually produces something. Baha'u'llah praises the arts and sciences that “bring forth their fruit”, and after showing us the transformation of the Babis and the teachings that helped bring it about, He concludes by saying that “knowledge is a veritable treasure for man”.

Now He turns back to Muhammad-Taqi, a man respected for his knowledge, and tells him what is incumbent upon him: “to summon the people, under all conditions, to whatever will cause them to show forth spiritual characteristics and goodly deeds”. Given that only a short while ago Baha'u'llah reminded him that he had “bidden the people to curse Me, and decreed that the blood of the servants of God be shed”, I have to ask, does asking them to spill blood count?

Then Baha'u'llah quotes “the first leaf of Paradise”. A leaf? Didn't we just read something about leaves? Only a few paragraphs ago He described us as saplings planted by the hand of Loving-kindness in the soil of mercy, watered by the showers of bounty. He then said, “Now is the time for you to put forth your leaves, and yield your fruit.” We already know what the fruit is, because He told us explicitly: “The fruits of the tree of man have ever been and are goodly deeds and a praiseworthy character.” But He never told us what the leaves were. And now, almost immediately afterwards, He begins quoting from the Leaves of Paradise.

The first Leaf begins with the fear of God. I wrote about this many years ago (here is but one example), because the phrase “fear of God” used to bother me. It sounded too much like being afraid of God, which never made much sense to me. Eventually I began thinking of it more as reverential awe. When I'm sitting in a room thinking about myself and the things I have to do, I can seem pretty significant. But expand the view a little. Think about the size of the earth, then the solar system, the galaxy, the universe, and suddenly my place in all of that becomes very different. I can imagine myself in five minutes time, or envision what I might be doing next year. I can even think that someone may stumble across some of my writings five or ten years after I die. But what am I doing today that will make a difference in a hundred years? Or a thousand? Or a hundred billion years? And that is still only a drop compared to God’s eternity. As I wrote back then, “I am so inconsequential, it is not even funny.” And the conclusion I came to was simple: “And so when God sends down a Messenger, I pay attention.”

That seems particularly appropriate here, because Baha'u'llah has been asking Muhammad-Taqi to pay attention almost from the beginning of this Epistle. Give ear. Listen. Ponder. Meditate. Turn towards God. Now He tells him that “the fear of God hath ever been the prime factor in the education of His creatures”, and describes it as “a sure defence and a safe stronghold”. But then He adds something else: shame. “Indeed, there existeth in man a faculty which deterreth him from, and guardeth him against, whatever is unworthy and unseemly, and which is known as his sense of shame.” I've written about this before, too (again, here is a single example), and the simplest way I could think of putting it back then was that guilt is past tense, while shame is future tense. Guilt responds to something I've already done. Shame, in the sense Baha'u'llah seems to be using it here, can stop me before I do it. It “deterreth” and “guardeth”. Then He makes the curious observation that this faculty “is confined to but a few; all have not possessed, and do not possess, it.” Given what Muhammad-Taqi has already done, and what Baha'u'llah has just reminded him of, I can only imagine how those words might sound to him.

Then comes the second Leaf of Paradise, and it continues something we've seen repeatedly throughout these passages. Religion is judged, at least in part, by what it produces. “Religion is, verily, the chief instrument for the establishment of order in the world, and of tranquillity amongst its peoples.” A few paragraphs ago the arts and sciences were praised when they were conducive to “the well-being and tranquility of men”. Earlier still, religion was described as a means for establishing unity and fellowship. Again and again, Baha'u'llah seems to direct us towards the results. If religion is supposed to produce order and tranquillity, what happens when a religious leader uses it to stir up hatred? If religion should help protect people, what happens when it is used as a justification for spilling their blood?

Then Baha'u'llah says, “It is Our hope that thou wilt hear with attentive ears the things We have mentioned unto thee, that perchance thou mayest turn men away from the things they possess to the things that God possesseth.” There are the ears again, but I find myself wondering about that last phrase. What does God possess? Everything, surely. He is, after all, the All-Possessing. So what exactly is Baha'u'llah asking Muhammad-Taqi to turn people towards? I don't know that I want to answer that too quickly, but look at what surrounds the statement: fear of God, shame, religion, justice, equity, mercy, wisdom, loving-kindness, good character and upright conduct. These are very different possessions from reputation, rank, authority, wealth or even learning. Muhammad-Taqi possesses knowledge, or at least is regarded as someone who does. He possesses authority and influence. Yet Baha'u'llah began this Epistle by describing God as the All-Powerful, the All-Knowing and the All-Wise. Whatever Muhammad-Taqi thinks he possesses, how does it compare with what God possesses? His knowledge against the All-Knowing? His power against the All-Powerful? His wisdom against the All-Wise?

This leads straight back to justice and equity, and then to an image we've already seen: shepherds and wolves. Earlier we saw the false shepherd who was really a wolf preying upon the flock. Here the followers of Baha'u'llah are told, “Ye are the shepherds of mankind; liberate ye your flocks from the wolves of evil passions and desires”. This time the wolves aren't people. They're our own evil passions and desires. It would be very easy for a religious community to imagine itself as the flock and everyone opposing it as the wolves, but that's not what Baha'u'llah says. The danger is something that can arise within us, and once again He points to the fear of God as a protection against it.

And then another weapon appears: “The sword of a virtuous character and upright conduct is sharper than blades of steel.” By this point there is quite a collection of transformed weapons in the Epistle. We've seen weapons converted into instruments of peace, the sword of the tongue drawn from the scabbard of utterance, and armies composed of wisdom, utterance, good character and praiseworthy deeds. Now the sword sharper than steel is virtuous character and upright conduct. This follows beautifully from what Baha'u'llah has just said about knowledge. Knowledge that begins with words and ends with words isn't enough. The knowledge He praises bears fruit, and here it becomes character and conduct powerful enough to be compared to a sword. And, as if we haven't heard enough about the voice already, the passage continues with “The voice of the true Faith calleth aloud...”

Then we come to the third Leaf of Paradise: “O son of man! If thine eyes be turned towards mercy, forsake the things that profit thee, and cleave unto that which will profit mankind. And if thine eyes be turned towards justice, choose thou for thy neighbor that which thou choosest for thyself.” There seems to be an expanding field of vision here. The first Leaf begins within the person, with the fear of God and the sense of shame. The second moves outward to religion, order, tranquillity and the responsibilities of leadership. Now the third asks us to move beyond what profits ourselves towards what profits mankind, and to choose for our neighbour what we would choose for ourselves. Religious authority can so easily be used to protect our own status, our own community, our own understanding of the truth. But Baha'u'llah keeps widening the horizon. The purpose of religion isn't the triumph of one faction. It is unity and fellowship. Justice isn't merely for people we approve of. It is necessary for the tranquillity of nations. Mercy asks us to turn away from what profits ourselves and towards what profits mankind.

And then all this language about listening reaches an extraordinary conclusion. “Were the world of the spirit to be wholly converted into the sense of hearing, it could then claim to be worthy to hearken unto the Voice that calleth from the Supreme Horizon...” The entire world of spirit transformed into the sense of hearing. At the beginning of the Epistle, Muhammad-Taqi was told, “Give ear.” Since then Baha'u'llah has returned again and again to listening. Give ear to His voice. Hear with attentive ears. Listen to the loved ones of God. And now even the whole world of spirit, if transformed into the faculty of hearing, would only then be worthy to listen to this Voice.

Which brings me back to the first Leaf and the fear of God. When I tried to understand that phrase years ago, I ended up thinking about scale. The universe is so vast, time is so immense, and I am so tiny within it all. And so when God sends down a Messenger, I pay attention. Muhammad-Taqi is a learned man, a respected man and a powerful man. People listen to him. Perhaps Baha'u'llah is suggesting that one of the first responsibilities of a religious leader is to learn how to listen.

The Fruits of Knowledge, ESW 31-48

“This Day, O Shaykh, hath never been, nor is it now, the Day whereon man-made arts and sciences can be regarded as a true standard for men...”

I feel like I've seen this before. Ah, yes! Way back in paragraph 2 of the Iqan, a book I've been studying with a friend for over twenty years, and which led to the question at the heart of this study of this book. Part of what I'm looking at here is the contrast between how Baha'u'llah reaches out near the beginning of His ministry to a sincere seeker in the Iqan, and how He reaches out near the end of His ministry to an avowed enemy of the Faith. And here, once again, I find myself looking back in the Iqan.

There He tells the uncle of the Bab that we must “cease to regard the words and deeds of mortal men as a standard for the true understanding and recognition of God and His Prophets”. Here He tells Muhammad-Taqi that “man-made arts and sciences” cannot be regarded as a true standard for men.

But this isn't a dismissal of the arts and sciences. Baha'u'llah immediately praises those which are “productive of good results, and bring forth their fruit, and are conducive to the well-being and tranquility of men”. That's remarkably similar to what He has just said about religion. Justice and equity should lead to “the well-being of the world and the protection of the nations”, while religion itself should lead to unity and fellowship. Whether He is speaking of religion or science, He keeps directing our attention towards what it produces, its effectiveness and effect.

And then all sorts of familiar language begins appearing again. Muhammad-Taqi is told to “give ear to My voice”, which will turn him towards “the ocean of wisdom and of utterance” and allow him to perceive the “sweet savors” of God's loving-kindness. The voice, the ear, wisdom and utterance, loving-kindness. We've been following all of these through the Epistle, and now Baha'u'llah says that, “in this connection”, He is going to recount some events from the past.

He begins with the attempted assassination of the Shah. He doesn't shy away from it or try to minimise what happened. He calls it an “evil deed”. But He also points out that He had nothing to do with it, and that His innocence had been established by the tribunals. And yet He was arrested anyway, taken on foot and in chains, bareheaded and barefoot, towards the dungeon in Tihran.

Amidst all of this, Baha'u'llah mentions that a brutal man riding beside Him on horseback snatched off His hat. It's such an odd little detail. There are chains, executioners, imprisonment and the possibility of death, and He tells us about a man taking His hat. But perhaps that's part of what makes the account feel so immediate. History remembers the imprisonment. The Person walking down that road remembers the man who reached over and snatched off His hat.

And once again I find myself thinking of the Iqan. When Baha'u'llah recounts the stories of the previous Manifestations there, He doesn't merely give us historical examples. He somehow puts us there with Them. We watch Noah being mocked, Abraham cast into the fire, Moses accused of murder, Jesus rejected, Muhammad persecuted. Here He does something similar with His own story. We walk beside Him through the streets, barefoot and chained, and eventually descend with Him into the Siyah-Chal.

It is there that He begins to meditate on the Babis themselves. He knows their nobility, their intelligence and their high-mindedness, and yet He looks at “the deeds which their hands had wrought” and wonders how such people could have committed such an outrageous act. Again, there is a difference between what people appear capable of and the fruit they actually produce.

And so He resolves to undertake “the task of regenerating this people”. Regenerating stands out here after everything we've just seen about transformation. Poison became honey. Tribulation became crystal water. We were offered the image of water becoming wine. Now the transformation is no longer merely metaphorical. Baha'u'llah is talking about transforming people.

Almost in response to that decision, He is promised victory: “We shall render Thee victorious by Thyself and by Thy Pen.” God will raise up people whose hearts have been revived through His Name. And then, after Baha'u'llah's release and exile to Iraq, we begin to see that promise fulfilled. His verses are sent throughout the world, and through “wise counsels and loving admonitions” He exhorts the people not to engage in sedition, quarrels, disputes and conflict. The result is another transformation: “waywardness and folly were changed into piety and understanding, and weapons converted into instruments of peace.”

Then Baha'u'llah takes us back into the Siyah-Chal and describes something that happened during those rare moments when He was able to sleep. “I felt as if something flowed from the crown of My head over My breast, even as a mighty torrent that precipitateth itself upon the earth from the summit of a lofty mountain.” I keep trying to picture that movement. Something flows from the crown of His head over His breast like a torrent rushing down a mountain. His entire body is affected, for He says that “every limb of My body would, as a result, be set afire”. And then His tongue begins to recite.

Given that the Manifestations of God are always conscious of Their station, I don't read this as Baha'u'llah suddenly learning Who He is. To me it reads as if the knowledge of His Revelation has somehow moved from His head to His heart. And from there, it is expressed in action through His whole being, until finally it emerges through His tongue, once again focusing us on the effect it produces.

And once again I hear an echo of Muhammad. Earlier Baha'u'llah described Himself asleep when the breezes of the All-Glorious were wafted over Him, which reminded me of Muhammad and the command to “Recite!” Now Baha'u'llah describes this torrent flowing over Him and says, “At such moments My tongue recited what no man could bear to hear.”

What were those unbearable words?

Baha'u'llah gives us some of them over the next several paragraphs. Be honest and pious. Be pure and fear God. Proclaim the Faith through wisdom and utterance, good character and praiseworthy deeds. Don't revile anyone, and don't worry if they revile you. Don't shed blood. Don't wage war. Don't spread disorder. Don't take what belongs to someone else. Make mention of God, praise Him and serve Him. Help His Cause through praiseworthy deeds and upright character.

I have to admit, those aren't quite the unbearable words I was expecting.

And in this particular Epistle, some of them must land rather heavily. Only a few paragraphs ago Baha'u'llah reminded Muhammad-Taqi that he had decreed “that the blood of the servants of God be shed”. Now he reads, “Beware lest ye shed the blood of any one.”

Instead of the sword of steel, Baha'u'llah gives us something else: “Unsheathe the sword of your tongue from the scabbard of utterance, for therewith ye can conquer the citadels of men's hearts.” Even the language of warfare is transformed. He speaks of waging war “with the armies of wisdom and utterance, and of a goodly character and praiseworthy deeds”. Only a short while earlier we saw weapons converted into instruments of peace. Now the weapons and armies themselves have become wisdom, utterance, character and deeds.

Perhaps this is what regenerating a people looks like.

And then we come to another tree. “Ye are the saplings which the hand of Loving-kindness hath planted in the soil of mercy, and which the showers of bounty have made to flourish.” What rich imagery. Loving-kindness is the hand that plants us, mercy is the soil in which we're planted, and bounty is the rain that allows us to grow. All of the conditions are provided for the tree, but the tree still has something to do: “Now is the time for you to put forth your leaves, and yield your fruit.”

And what is that fruit? Baha'u'llah tells us: “The fruits of the tree of man have ever been and are goodly deeds and a praiseworthy character.”

That takes me all the way back to the beginning of this section. The arts and sciences that Baha'u'llah praises are those that “bring forth their fruit”. Now we are the trees, and our fruit is goodly deeds and a praiseworthy character. And then He adds, “Withhold not these fruits from the heedless.”

There's “withhold” again. Muhammad-Taqi was just told not to withhold himself from the Choice Wine. Now the believers are told not to withhold their fruit from others. We receive something and then, perhaps, are expected to produce something from it that can be offered in turn.

Baha'u'llah even brings water back into the picture, telling His followers to cleanse the hearts of people from animosity and hatred “with the waters of your forbearance and loving-kindness”. And when He asks how the Cause is to be helped, the answer is remarkably consistent with everything we've been reading: “The hosts which are to render this Cause victorious are the hosts of praiseworthy deeds and an upright character.”

And then, after all of this, we return to the arts and sciences.

“Arts, crafts and sciences uplift the world of being, and are conducive to its exaltation.” Knowledge is described as wings to our life and a ladder for our ascent, and Baha'u'llah speaks highly of scientists and craftsmen. So He was never dismissing knowledge when He began this section. He was asking us to consider what sort of knowledge is worthy of the name, and what it produces.

“In truth, knowledge is a veritable treasure for man, and a source of glory, of bounty, of joy, of exaltation, of cheer and gladness unto him.”

That sounds different to me now than it would have eighteen paragraphs ago. Baha'u'llah began with arts and sciences that are “productive of good results” and “bring forth their fruit”. He then took us into the Siyah-Chal, showed us His decision to regenerate a people, showed us the transformation that followed, and gave us the teachings through which that transformation occurred. Again and again those teachings return to wisdom, utterance, character and deeds.

Perhaps that is one of the ways we can recognise the treasure of true knowledge.

Look at its fruit.

Water into Wine, ESW 28-30

We have spent quite a bit of time looking at the standard Baha'u'llah has established for religious leadership. Religion is supposed to further unity and fellowship. Justice and equity should lead to “the well-being of the world and the protection of the nations”. If we believe we possess a truth someone else doesn't recognise, we are to offer it with kindness and goodwill. And then Baha'u'llah showed us the false shepherd, the one who looks like a shepherd but is really a wolf preying upon the flock.

Now He turns directly to Muhammad-Taqi.

“O Shaykh! We have learned that thou hast turned away from Us, and protested against Us, in such wise that thou hast bidden the people to curse Me, and decreed that the blood of the servants of God be shed.”

There it is.

I think this would have read very differently to me if Baha'u'llah had said it twenty paragraphs earlier. But He didn't. He first spent all that time establishing what religion is supposed to do, and what a religious leader should look like. Only now does He tell Muhammad-Taqi what he has done. He has told people to curse Baha'u'llah and decreed that blood should be shed.

It's difficult not to think of the wolf.

But what really surprises me is Baha'u'llah's response. He doesn't threaten Muhammad-Taqi in return. Instead He quotes someone who willingly accepts the judgement that his blood should be spilled, and then says, “Whatever befalleth in the path of God is the beloved of the soul and the desire of the heart.”

Then the images begin.

“Deadly poison in His path is pure honey, and every tribulation a draught of crystal water.”

Poison becomes honey. Tribulation becomes crystal water. Adversity becomes “a morning dew upon His green pasture, and a wick for His lamp which lighteth earth and heaven.”

These aren't merely images of endurance. Baha'u'llah isn't saying that poison is unpleasant but we should put up with it, or that tribulation is difficult but we can get through it. The thing itself seems to be transformed. Poison becomes honey. Tribulation becomes water. Adversity becomes dew, nourishing the pasture, and a wick through which light can shine.

And that makes the contrast with the previous section even more interesting.

We just read of those who are like “clear but bitter water”, outwardly appearing crystal pure until tested by the Divine Assayer. Now, only a few lines later, Baha'u'llah speaks of tribulation as “a draught of crystal water”.

In the one case, something that appears pure is actually bitter. In the other, something that appears bitter, persecution and tribulation, becomes pure water. Perhaps appearance and reality are still very much with us.

Then Baha'u'llah tells Muhammad-Taqi to turn towards God and gives him another prayer. Once again we find the same movement we saw earlier in the Epistle. Turn. Speak. Listen.

“Aid me, O my Lord, to set myself towards Thee, and to hearken unto the voice of Thy loved ones...”

There's the ear again.

Then we encounter these loved ones who are those “whom the powers of the earth have failed to weaken, and the dominion of the nations has been powerless to withhold from Thee”.

Muhammad-Taqi is a man of considerable earthly power, and Baha'u'llah has just reminded him of one of the ways he used it. He ordered people to curse Baha'u'llah and decreed that blood should be spilled. Yet now the prayer placed before him asks for help in listening to people whom earthly power cannot weaken.

You can hurt them. You can even kill them. But apparently that doesn't mean you have power over them.

Then we come to paragraph 30.

“O Shaykh! Verily I say, the seal of the Choice Wine hath, in the name of Him Who is the Self-Subsisting, been broken; withhold not thyself therefrom.”

We've just had crystal water, and now we have wine.

I can't help but be reminded of Jesus at the wedding in Cana. There He takes ordinary water and turns it into wine. It is His first miracle in the Gospel of John, the first of the signs through which He begins to reveal Who He is. And here Baha'u'llah has just offered Muhammad-Taqi crystal water and now offers him the Choice Wine.

What a wonderful image of the transformative power of the Manifestation. Water is already good. It is pure. It gives life. But the Manifestation transforms it into something more.

And perhaps that is precisely what Muhammad-Taqi is being offered.

Baha'u'llah isn't merely asking him to stop persecuting people. That would certainly be an improvement, but perhaps the invitation goes much further than that. He has been asked to listen, to detach himself, to become just and fair-minded, to use his voice to quench hatred, and to consider what religion is actually for. Now the seal has been broken and he is invited to drink.

“Withhold not thyself therefrom.”

That wording catches me. Baha'u'llah doesn't say that the wine is being withheld from Muhammad-Taqi. Quite the opposite. The seal has already been broken.

If he remains thirsty, he is the one withholding himself.

Then Baha'u'llah repeats something we have already seen: “This Wronged One speaketh wholly for the sake of God; thou too shouldst, likewise, for the sake of God, meditate upon those things that have been sent down and manifested.”

There is that question of motive again. For the sake of God.

And even after everything Muhammad-Taqi has done, even after commanding others to curse Baha'u'llah and decreeing that blood be shed, the invitation is still there. The wine has not been taken away from him. Baha'u'llah does not say he has forfeited his chance to drink it. Instead, He exemplifies “Thy Name, the All-Merciful, [which] sufficeth to banish and blot out every trace of sinfulness from the world.”

The seal is broken. The wine is available. “Withhold not thyself therefrom.”

What Lies Beneath, ESW 23-27

At the end of the last section, Baha'u'llah explained what He meant by the “divines” of Persia. They are those who “outwardly attire themselves with the raiment of knowledge, but who inwardly are deprived therefrom”.

Outwardly and inwardly.

Baha'u'llah immediately follows this with a series of passages from the Hidden Words. The first begins, “O ye that are foolish, yet have a name to be wise! Wherefore do ye wear the guise of shepherds, when inwardly ye have become wolves, intent upon My flock?”

Well, that's not subtle.

Baha'u'llah has just said the purpose of religion is to foster “the well-being of the world and the protection of the nations”. It should lead to unity and fellowship. The person who possesses truth should offer it with kindness and goodwill. These are the standards Baha'u'llah has just established. And now we have a shepherd who eats the sheep.

The next image is in the same vein, if a little less violent.

“Ye are even as a spring, which is outwardly clear and pure, but inwardly is of such bitterness that no one can taste thereof.”

Outwardly and inwardly. But this time you can't tell what's wrong with the spring just by looking at it. It looks clear. It looks pure. Until you taste it.

That seems particularly appropriate when Baha'u'llah is talking about people who outwardly possess the “raiment of knowledge”. Someone can look learned. They can have the position, the education, the clothing, the vocabulary, all the outward signs that tell us this is someone worth listening to. But what happens when you actually drink from the spring? What happens when you reflect on their words?

Perhaps this takes us back to something we just saw. If we want to know whether religious leadership is serving its proper purpose, look at what it produces. The appearance of the spring isn't the test. The water is.

Then comes another Hidden Word:

“O essence of desire! At many a dawn have I turned from the realms of the Placeless unto thine abode, and found thee on the bed of ease busied with others than Me.”

Busied. Didn't we just see that word? Just a few paragraphs earlier Baha'u'llah spoke of people who “have busied themselves with the things they possess”, while remaining unaware of “the things God possesseth”. And now God comes looking for this person and finds him busied with something other than Him.

I have to wonder what that means to Muhammad-Taqi. After all, he was a religious scholar. I would imagine he was pretty busy with religion. But are being busy with religion and being occupied with God the same thing? Not necessarily.

That's a little uncomfortable.

I can spend all day studying the Writings, writing about them, talking about them, doing things that appear to be connected with God, and still have to ask myself what I'm actually occupied with. The activity itself doesn't answer the question.

And then the next Hidden Word stopped me.

“O bond slave of the world! Many a dawn hath the breeze of My loving-kindness wafted over thee and found thee upon the bed of heedlessness fast asleep.”

Wait a minute.

Didn't we just see someone else asleep when a breeze came?

Baha'u'llah just described the beginning of His own Revelation. “I was but a man like others, asleep upon My couch, when lo, the breezes of the All-Glorious were wafted over Me, and taught Me the knowledge of all that hath been.”

Now we have another person asleep, and another breeze passing over him. But the results couldn't be more different.

Baha'u'llah is asleep upon His couch when the breezes come, and He awakens to His Revelation. His voice is raised between earth and heaven. Here the “bond slave of the world” is asleep upon the “bed of heedlessness”, the breeze of God's loving-kindness passes over him, and he remains asleep.

The contrast is striking, especially when Baha'u'llah has spent so much of this Epistle talking about listening. “Give ear.” The ear was created to hear the Divine Voice. Muhammad-Taqi has been told to ponder, to recite, to listen to the meaning of the words. Perhaps the breeze can pass over us and we can still sleep through it.

And then we have the counterpoint.

“Those divines, however, who are truly adorned with the ornament of knowledge and of a goodly character are, verily, as a head to the body of the world, and as eyes to the nations.”

However.

So this isn't a condemnation of the divines simply because they're divines. Baha'u'llah has spent several paragraphs showing us what false religious leadership can look like, and now He shows us the other possibility.

And notice the clothing. At the beginning of this section there were those who “outwardly attire themselves with the raiment of knowledge”. The false shepherds wear a “guise”. Now these other divines are “truly adorned with the ornament of knowledge”.

But there's something else added here. They are adorned with knowledge and a goodly character. Perhaps that's part of how we tell whether the spring is sweet.

And look what these true divines become: “a head to the body of the world, and as eyes to the nations”.

Eyes.

We've seen those before, too. Baha'u'llah has already spoken of those “whose sight is keen”, and He has been asking Muhammad-Taqi to look again at things he thinks he already knows. Now the true divine isn't merely someone who can see. He can somehow become an eye for the nation.

Which takes me back to those first two words again.

Outwardly and inwardly.

Apparently the difference between the false divine and the true one isn't whether he looks religious. Both may possess the outward appearance of knowledge. The difference seems to lie somewhere deeper, in what that knowledge has made of him, in what it produces, and perhaps in what others receive when they drink from his spring.

Establishing the Standard, ESW 16-22

In the last few paragraphs, Muhammad-Taqi was given a very short prayer: “O God, my God! Attire mine head with the crown of justice, and my temple with the ornament of equity.” And then, almost as if Baha'u'llah is answering that prayer Himself, the very next paragraph begins, “Justice and equity are twin Guardians that watch over men.”

But their purpose, justice and equity, is not merely to make him a better person. “From them are revealed such blessed and perspicuous words as are the cause of the well-being of the world and the protection of the nations.”

Once again, we move from the individual to the world. Muhammad-Taqi has been asked to examine himself, to listen, to ponder, to practise detachment, and finally to use his wisdom and his voice to quench hatred. Now justice and equity are described in terms of the well-being of the world and the protection of nations. Whatever Baha'u'llah is asking of this one religious leader, the consequences reach considerably further than the man himself.

And then Baha'u'llah seems to begin establishing a standard.

He speaks about God and the Manifestations, those “Mystic Gems”, explaining that they have appeared in order to tell humanity about the One Who is otherwise beyond our sight and knowledge. Then He turns to religion itself. “That the divers communions of the earth, and the manifold systems of religious belief, should never be allowed to foster the feelings of animosity among men, is, in this Day, of the essence of the Faith of God and His Religion.”

Never be allowed.

That's a pretty strong statement, especially in a letter to Muhammad-Taqi. Baha'u'llah doesn't say that religious hatred is bad, or that it would be nice if people of different religions got along a little better. Nope. He’s far stronger about it. Religious belief should never be allowed to foster animosity.

And He gives a reason. “These principles and laws, these firmly-established and mighty systems, have proceeded from one Source, and are the rays of one Light.” Their differences do not justify hatred because their origin is one.

This brings me right back to the Invocation, “the One, the Incomparable”. We began with the oneness of God, and now that oneness has implications. If these religions proceed from one Source and are rays of one Light, then hatred between their followers isn't merely socially destructive. It seems to contradict something fundamental about the religions themselves.

Baha'u'llah then shows us just how destructive that contradiction can become. “Religious fanaticism and hatred are a world-devouring fire, whose violence none can quench.” And this isn't an abstract warning. He describes what that fire looks like when it is allowed to burn: war, villages destroyed, lives lost, possessions abandoned. The hatred that begins in hearts and is fed by words eventually becomes something terribly physical. This doesn’t just affect a few people, or even merely an entire village. It is “world-devouring”.

This makes me think again about what Muhammad-Taqi has just been asked to do. Only a few paragraphs earlier, Baha'u'llah told him to use “the power of wisdom and the force of thy utterance” to quench “the fire of enmity and hatred”. And now that same hatred is described as a “world-devouring fire”.

That metaphor has suddenly become much larger.

Perhaps this is part of the standard Baha'u'llah is establishing. If you want to know whether religious leadership is serving its proper purpose, look at what it produces. Does it increase the knowledge of God? Does it further unity and fellowship? Does it protect the nations and contribute to the well-being of the world? Or does it feed the fire?

Then Baha'u'llah gives us the alternative: “Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch.”

I have read that line so many times that I often forget how radical it is in this context. Baha'u'llah is writing to a man whose religious world was filled with divisions between believer and unbeliever, pure and impure, faithful and heretic. And after describing religious hatred as a world-devouring fire, He tells him to look at humanity as the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch.

Not different trees growing beside each other and learning to tolerate one another. One tree.

And from there the vision continues to widen. Baha'u'llah speaks of the illumination of the whole earth and of the protection and security of all mankind. Earlier we moved from Muhammad-Taqi himself to the peoples of the world. Now we seem to be looking at humanity as a whole.

But then comes the problem. If this is the standard, why doesn't the world look like this?

Baha'u'llah speaks of the “thick clouds of oppression” that have obscured this station, and He points specifically towards the divines of Persia. He seems to be making very sure that Muhammad-Taqi understands what religion is supposed to look like, and holding up a mirror so he can reflect on his own actions.

And so, once again, we return to behaviour.

“Consort with all men, O people of Baha, in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship.”

There is the standard made practical. Unity isn't merely a nice, little theological claim about one Source or one Light. It must become something visible in the way we deal with people.

Baha'u'llah even tells us what to do when we think we possess a truth that someone else doesn't recognise. We are to share it “in a language of utmost kindliness and goodwill”. If the person accepts it, fine. But if they don't, should we force it on them? Demand they accept our understanding of it? No. We are told to leave them to themselves and pray for them.

Again, I have to put this in context so I better understand how radical this is. Baha'u'llah is writing to a religious leader whose position gives him considerable power over what happens to people who disagree with him, and He establishes a very different standard for religious disagreement. Offer what you believe to be true with kindness and goodwill. If it is rejected, don't become angry. Don't compel. Don't abuse. Pray for the person and leave them alone.

And then we return to the voice one more time. “A kindly tongue is the lodestone of the hearts of men.”

After everything we have already seen about the voice, I can't help but hear that differently here. Muhammad-Taqi has been told what his ears were created for. He has been given words to recite. He has been told what tongues are for. He has been asked to use the force of his own utterance to quench hatred. And now Baha'u'llah tells him what kind of tongue can attract hearts. A kindly one.

“It is the bread of the spirit, it clotheth the words with meaning, it is the fountain of the light of wisdom and understanding.”

I've actually written an entire article about this quote before, called “A Kindly Tongue”, so I won't go through all of that again here. In that article I wondered whether part of what Baha'u'llah is saying is quite practical. If our tongue isn't kindly, people may simply stop listening. The Bread of Life can't feed someone who won't receive it, and our words can't convey much meaning if they never really make it past the person's ears.

What I hadn't noticed then, because I wasn't looking at the quote in the context of this Epistle, was what comes immediately before it. Muhammad-Taqi has already been told to quench hatred through “the power of wisdom and the force of thy utterance”. And now Baha'u'llah tells him that a kindly tongue is “the fountain of the light of wisdom and understanding”.

There we are, back at wisdom again.

Perhaps we're being shown something about what that “power of wisdom” actually looks like. It isn't merely having the right argument or knowing the right thing to say. The kindliness of the tongue seems to be part of the wisdom itself.

And then, right at the end of this section, Baha'u'llah says something that seems to prepare us for what comes next. By the “divines” He means those who “outwardly attire themselves with the raiment of knowledge, but who inwardly are deprived therefrom”.

There is that distinction again between possessing knowledge and actually knowing. Muhammad-Taqi has already been told that he may need to be delivered from the darkness of ignorance. Baha'u'llah has told him that He Himself attended neither the schools nor the controversies of the learned. Now He describes people who look learned on the outside but are deprived of knowledge within.

I think I begin to see why Baha'u'llah has taken so much time before turning directly towards the iniquities of the divines. He has established the standard first.

What is religion for? The knowledge of God, unity and fellowship. What should justice and equity produce? The well-being of the world and the protection of nations. How should we see humanity? As the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch. How should we treat someone who rejects what we believe to be true? With kindness and goodwill. What should our voice do? Quench hatred. What kind of tongue attracts the hearts? A kindly one.

Only after establishing all of that does Baha'u'llah begin to turn towards the people who claim religious authority and ask, in effect, whether their lives and actions meet that standard. And Muhammad-Taqi is one of them.

Perhaps that is why the order matters. Baha'u'llah doesn't begin by condemning the man and then explain what he has done wrong. He first gives him something against which he can measure himself.

Now is the Moment, ESW 13-15

After everything Baha'u'llah has asked Muhammad-Taqi to do so far, it is remarkable that He continues. Muhammad-Taqi has been told to give ear, to practise renunciation, to recite, to ponder, to listen carefully and pay attention to meaning. He has been asked to become just and fair-minded, and has heard Baha'u'llah describe the source of these words. All of that seems to have been preparing him for something. “Now is the moment in which to cleanse thyself with the waters of detachment that have flowed out from the Supreme Pen, and to ponder, wholly for the sake of God, those things which, time and again, have been sent down or manifested...”

There are those waters again. Earlier Muhammad-Taqi was told to purify himself with the waters of renunciation, and then Baha'u'llah expressed the hope that he might “inhale the breath of detachment”. Now he is told to cleanse himself with “the waters of detachment”. He is also told once again to ponder, although this time Baha'u'llah adds something. He is to do it “wholly for the sake of God”. I wonder if that is partly a question of motive. Muhammad-Taqi isn't being asked to investigate Baha'u'llah in order to defend his position, preserve his reputation, win an argument, or prove that he was right. He is being asked to consider what has been revealed for the sake of God alone.

And then something seems to change. Most of the instructions so far have concerned what Muhammad-Taqi needs to do within himself. Listen. Renounce. Recite. Ponder. Pay attention. But now Baha'u'llah asks him to do something in the world. He is to “strive, as much as lieth in thee, to quench, through the power of wisdom and the force of thy utterance, the fire of enmity and hatred which smouldereth in the hearts of the peoples of the world”.

There is the voice again, although now Muhammad-Taqi isn't being asked to use his voice to recite words Baha'u'llah has given him. He is being asked to use his own utterance, guided by wisdom, to quench hatred. That seems especially powerful when addressed to a man whose words have helped inflame it. Baha'u'llah isn't merely asking him to stop using his influence destructively. He is asking him to turn it around. The same power of utterance that can help kindle enmity can be used to extinguish it.

And this takes me all the way back to the Invocation. We wondered there about the All-Powerful, the All-Knowing and the All-Wise, and whether those divine attributes might also cause Muhammad-Taqi to consider his own lower-case power, knowledge and wisdom. Now, thirteen paragraphs later, Baha'u'llah actually asks him to use “the power of wisdom and the force of thy utterance”. Perhaps that was where all of this was going. Muhammad-Taqi already has influence. He already has a voice. The question is what he is going to do with them.

The next paragraph seems to widen that question from Muhammad-Taqi to religion itself. “The Divine Messengers have been sent down, and their Books were revealed, for the purpose of promoting the knowledge of God, and of furthering unity and fellowship amongst men.” That word “purpose” catches my attention after everything we've just seen about the voice. A few paragraphs ago Baha'u'llah told us that God gave a voice to all things so that they might praise and glorify Him. We then encountered the rather severe statement that a tongue deprived of the fragrance of that praise was “unworthy of any mention, in word or yet in thought”. The voice has a purpose, and its worth seems somehow connected with whether or not it fulfils that purpose.

Now Baha'u'llah tells us that religion has a purpose, too. The Messengers and their Books have been given for the knowledge of God, and for “unity and fellowship amongst men”. Then comes the painful contrast: “But now behold, how they have made the Law of God a cause and pretext for perversity and hatred.” Religion hasn't merely failed to produce unity. The very thing intended to produce unity and fellowship has been used as a pretext for hatred.

So perhaps the question we asked about the tongue can be asked here as well. What is religion for? If its purpose is the knowledge of God, unity and fellowship, then surely we have to judge what we are doing with religion partly by whether it produces those things. However learned our arguments might be, however certain we are that we are defending the truth, if the result is perversity and hatred, something has gone badly wrong.

And Muhammad-Taqi is not merely a religious person. He is a religious leader. Baha'u'llah has just asked this particular religious leader to use the power of wisdom and the force of his utterance to extinguish hatred, and then immediately reminds him that the Messengers and their Books were given to further unity and fellowship. It is difficult not to hear the connection.

Baha'u'llah then says that people “are cleaving fast to, and have busied themselves with, the things they possess, and are unaware of, and shut out as by a veil from, the things God possesseth”. I find myself wondering what those things we possess might include. Material possessions, certainly, but perhaps also our learning, our interpretations, our position, our reputation, even our certainty that we already know what God requires. Muhammad-Taqi possesses a great deal of religious knowledge, but some of that knowledge may have become the very thing preventing him from recognising what is before him. Once again we seem to have returned to detachment, although from a slightly different direction. The problem isn't necessarily possessing these things. It may be cleaving fast to them.

And then, after all this, Baha'u'llah gives Muhammad-Taqi another prayer. It is remarkably short: “O God, my God! Attire mine head with the crown of justice, and my temple with the ornament of equity. Thou, verily, art the Possessor of all gifts and bounties.”

That imagery feels familiar. Near the beginning of the Epistle, Muhammad-Taqi's head was to be crowned with the fear of God and his temple adorned with reliance upon Him. Now the same head is to be crowned with justice, and the same temple ornamented with equity. Perhaps those are precisely the qualities he needs if he is going to do what Baha'u'llah has just asked of him. He already possesses a powerful voice. He already possesses learning. What he needs is the justice and equity that will allow him to use them properly.

And I find it amazing that Baha'u'llah once again doesn't simply tell Muhammad-Taqi that he ought to be just. He puts the request into Muhammad-Taqi's own mouth. Muhammad-Taqi has to ask God for justice and equity himself, and then acknowledge that God is “the Possessor of all gifts and bounties”. Justice and equity aren't presented as qualities he can simply assume he already possesses because of his position or learning. They are things he needs to ask for. After everything Baha'u'llah has just said about the things people possess and “the things God possesseth”, that final acknowledgement seems particularly appropriate.

Which brings me back to those opening words: “Now is the moment”. Perhaps everything before this has been preparation. Baha'u'llah has been teaching Muhammad-Taqi how to listen, what to do with his own voice, and how to examine the person doing the listening. But eventually all that listening and pondering has to become action, and the action Baha'u'llah asks of this powerful religious leader is to use his wisdom and his voice to quench hatred. Perhaps that is one way of knowing whether he has really begun to hear.