Springtime

"The Divine Springtime has come..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Okay, now from my commentary)

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

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

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

(And back to our regularly scheduled blog.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(92 to go)

Why God?

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

What a great question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But let's move on.

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

So what do I make of all this?

Simple, really.

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

Now, what does this have to do with God?

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

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

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

So we move on.

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

But again this isn't quite accurate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

...and with that, 93 to go. 

A Bit of a Declaration Story

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

Not mine.

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

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

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

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

Oh. No. Even before that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I must have lit up.

"15? Why?"

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

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

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

Well, that and those Passover Seders. 

 

94 to go... 

Equilibrium

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what does that mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Falcon

One of the most beautiful quotes I know, filled with such incredible imagery, is the following one from the Pen of Baha'u'llah:

I am the Sun of Wisdom and the Ocean of Knowledge. I cheer the faint and revive the dead. I am the guiding Light that illumineth the way. I am the royal Falcon on the arm of the Almighty. I unfold the drooping wings of every broken bird and start it on its flight.

Let's just begin at the beginning and see what pearls we can find hidden within it.

The "Sun of Wisdom" and the "Ocean of Knowledge"? To start, knowledge is the result of the acquisition of facts, while wisdom is knowing the application of those facts. Knowledge is what you get from a teacher, while wisdom is what you get when you ignore them.

But why is knowledge like an ocean here, and wisdom as the sun? Oh, dear Reader, I am sure there are so many reasons, and I am absolutely certain I have not even begun to find even a fraction of them. And, as usual, I have to remind you that this is nothing official. It is just my own opinion, my own feeble thoughts on this, to which I am certain you can add.

So, why the sun? Well, let's see. The sun shines of its accord, continually giving forth its light. It is the absolute source of all life on this planet. But it also can be obscured by the clouds. This reminds me of the importance of wisdom, and how we can often obscure it from appearing by our own silliness, prejudices, or even desires. The sun is constant, but we are often blocked from being able to directly receive its rays. Oh, and we cannot forget that God is often compared to the sun. I'm sure I could add tons more here, but let's go on.

Ok. Now, why an ocean? Hmm. It's vast, that's for sure. And there are countless hidden treasures within it, such as pearls and coral and all sorts of fishies, both big and small. But perhaps the most telling for me is that the Writings are often compared to an ocean. Reading the Writings, being able to quote them, shows knowledge. But just quoting them is not enough. We need to understand how to apply them. That is wisdom. And where does that come from? God. He shines that light of wisdom in the heart of whomsoever He wishes.

In addition to all this, when the sun shines upon the ocean, life grows in abundance. When we think of life in the ocean, we often think of the fish and whales and perhaps even the coral on the bottom. But the source of all that life is the the humble plankton that feed the krill which, in turn, feed the whales and virtually everything else. No matter how vast and mighty the ocean may be, it is fully dependent upon the sun to give its bounty.

As for cheering the faint, and reviving the dead? The former is an encouraging of someone who has become disheartened, while the latter is the bringing back to life of someone who has died. When we read the Writings, we often find encouragement and the ability to act in ways we had never thought possible. Baha'u'llah seems to have faith in us and our abilities to act upon God's Will, and we strive to live up to that faith. Even those who had completely given up hope often find themselves not only with a renewed ability, but more importantly, hope. Whereas previously they may have thought everything hopeless, and themselves impotent to create change, they now find themselves acting upon the glorious vision imparted by Baha'u'llah. It is often said that people become discouraged not by lack of vision, but by not being able to see the next steps. Baha'u'llah, especially through the Universal House of Justice, helps us see the next steps we need to take to manifest this glorious world to which we are moving.

He is, in fact, as He says in the next sentence, "the guiding Light that illumineth the way".

But it is that last couple of sentences that I find the most encouraging:

I am the royal Falcon on the arm of the Almighty. I unfold the drooping wings of every broken bird and start it on its flight.

There are many examples in the Writings of our role in the world, and how Baha'u'llah is a superlative example of that role. In the Kitab-i-Iqan, Baha'u'llah refers to "the divine Luminaries," who, "by their loving care and educative influence, cause the trees of divine unity, the fruits of His oneness, the leaves of detachment, the blossoms of knowledge and certitude, and the myrtles of wisdom and utterance, to exist and be made manifest". What I find fascinating about this quote is that He seems to be implying that He is like the mighty tree in the forest, while we, His humble followers, are also trees, in this case the smaller myrtle.

Every element in that quote grows on the tree itself, from the fruits to the leaves, and even the blossoms, but around that tree are smaller blossoms, and the shrubs, like the myrtle. It is as if there is only one Manifestation, but He cannot do it all on His own. This is why He has the saints and apostles. They are the ones to spread His message. I could go on about why He used myrtles here, as that is oddly specific, but that is a topic for another article, I'm sure.

Here, in this quote, He is the royal Falcon, and we are smaller, less majestic, birds. In many cases, though, we are badly damaged. And, like the divine Physician He is, He has helped heal us so that we can take flight on our own.

This is all so encouraging, knowing that I am like that little bird that has been given the ability to fly once again. 

 Oh, and 96. The countdown is still on.  

A Kindly Tongue

Do you realize that in all the years I've been writing this blog I've never looked at one of my favourite quotes from the Writings? On the one hand, I'm sure you do, for you are so attentive, dear Reader, but on the other hand, of course not. How would you know it's one of my favourites if I've never told you?

By the way, this is a point that I've also never addressed: We're not psychic. Too often have I come across people who seem to think that we are. They probably figure that if Robin was psychic, we should be, too. What? Oh, yeah. Robin was Batman's psychic. (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

But seriously, we too often expect others to just somehow know what we're thinking and that's not fair. I was once asked by an Assembly to talk to someone that had been asked to give a presentation at Naw Ruz, to ensure that his topic was going to be appropriate. I asked him what he was going to talk about and he said, "I'm going to tell them what Naw Ruz is." Badda boom, that was it. "Really", I asked? "Naw Ruz is the beginning of our calendar? That's all?"

He then got all huffy and said, "Well, no, I'll talk about more than just that, of course." You see, he somehow expected that I was going to just know what he was going to say. I pointed out to him that one of my many failings was not being able to read minds, and asked him if he could please give me some clue about what he would talk about so that I could let the Assembly know.

Yeah, we're not psychic. Sorry about that.

Anyways, one of my favourite quotes. You've probably guessed by now, presuming you've looked at the title of this article.

But I have to admit, I did not notice this on my own. I actually was bored before starting this post and asked google to give me a quote from the Writings that I hadn't addressed yet. And it gave me this one. I tell you, google is good. Google. Good. God. They all begin with "go", which is what I should with this post. So, here we go.

A kindly tongue is the lodestone of the hearts of men. It is the bread of the spirit, it clotheth the words with meaning, it is the fountain of the light of wisdom.

I just love that quote. I really do. I mean, it has a word like "lodestone" in it. How awesome is that?

But let's take a look at it a little bit at a time, with the standard caveat that all of this is just my own opinion, nothing official. Take it or leave it, it's up to you. That said, onward ho!

It begins, like most things in the Writings, with the heart. This time, though, it is us addressing the heart of another. But to be effective, we have to use a kindly tongue. It has to be warm, gentle. It should be generous, sympathetic, easygoing, patient, helpful, and considerate. Kindly implies so many things, but they are all things that just make you smile and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. (Hmm. I may need to re-think that phrase. I mean, if I was fuzzy on the inside, a visit to the doctor might be in order.)

But aside from the obvious, why would we need our tongue, the words we use and the way we say them, to be kindly for all the rest to follow? (Great question, glad I asked.)

Well, our use of language is like a magnet, for that's what a lodestone is. "Lode" is literally an olde English word for "way" or "guide". A lodestone is a stone that shows the way, just like we can use our language to "show the way" when we share the teachings.

But what if we're abrupt in our speech? Or not patient with the time it takes another to begin to see what it is we're talking about? Do you think they'll be attracted to what we have to say? Probably not. They'll likely stop listening.

And to take it a step further, the Word of God may be the "Bread of Life", but if they are not listening to it, then it can never feed them.

If the person is not listening to what we are sharing, then the words that we are saying literally become devoid of meaning by the time they reach their ears.

To give an extreme example, we may have the most wonderful and powerful and inspiring quote from Baha'u'llah written down on a piece of paper. But if we yell at someone and tell them that they're going to be condemned for all eternity if they don't read it and accept it, how do you expect them to react? Do you think they'll jump up and down with excitement, begging us to share it with them? I wouldn't. If someone approached me like that, I'd think they're nuts and just walk away. Whatever was written down on that paper would, to me, be meaningless, for I would never get any meaning out of it, for the meaning is only in the sharing. Without that, they are nothing more than some splotches of ink.

But now suppose that someone came up to me with that exact same piece of paper, wrapped up as a scroll, with a beautiful ribbon tied around it. Suppose they saw that I was struggling with something and offered to help me with it. Suppose they talked to me as a dear friend, asked me about my day, how I was feeling, what they could do to ease my burdens and concerns, and worked alongside me on those projects I felt were important. Suppose they invited me into their confidence, too, and shared with me their burdens and concerns, asked for my help, trusted me with their heart. Suppose they said they found great comfort in the words on that scroll, as well as inspiration and joy. Now how do you think I would respond?

Those words may be from that divine Ocean, they may contain the Water of Life, they may be from the "fountain of the light of wisdom", but in the former case, I would never know. I would most likely toss them away, given the person who passed them on to me. But in the latter case, I would treasure them right from the beginning, given that they were now a reminder of that dear soul who entrusted me with their care.

If the tongue is not kindly, if the way we share the words is not conducive to the opening of the heart of the recipient, it does not matter what we say, for it will never get past that great barrier that divides us all. That can only be done with love.

 

97 more to go to hit my goal of 100 this year. Any thoughts on other quotes to explore?

Tulips

Spring is coming. Really, I promise.

The two meters of snow in front of my snow try to convince me otherwise, but I know it's on its way.

In just a few weeks comes Ayyam-i-Ha, then the Fast, and then, as promised, spring.

And you know what comes with spring? Besides warmer weather, rain, and a ton of mud? Flowers.

Now, I've already written an article on hyacinths, one of my favourite flowers, but there is another one that arrives around the same time: Tulips. I love variety of colours and textures, and even the amazing history, what with them commanding a king's fortune in price, only to plummet to near worthlessness, sadly bankrupting whole families but teaching us a valuable lesson in economic bubbles and the dangers of unbridled capitalism and greed.

But, no, I don't want to go into the sordid history of that flower. I'd far rather talk about their beauty, metaphorical significance, and how they are used in the Writings. What can we learn from this simple flower? After all, in the Kitab-i-Iqan, paragraph 109 in case you're interested, He says that "all things, in their inmost reality, testify to the revelation of the names and attributes of God within them." So what is it that these beautiful blossoms testify?

He mentions them twice in that inspiring book. First in paragraph 217, where He is describing the City of Certitude, which He later identifies as "the Word of God revealed in every age and dispensation" (paragraph 219). He says of this City that its "wondrous tulips unfold the mystery of the undying Fire in the Burning Bush".

Later, in paragraph 233 He refers to those souls who have accepted the new Revelation. He says that in their hearts we will see "the roses of wisdom and the tulips of understanding". And yes, I know I included the roses in there, but it is so that we can compare and contrast the wisdom with the understanding. But let's not go there just yet.

Why tulips?

Historically, they have signalized a re-birth, as they are one of the first flowers to emerge after the long winter. But they have also symbolized a fleeting beauty, one that fades rather quickly. Throughout history they have also come to represent a passionate and unconditional love, as well as self-acceptance. They are a humble flower that does not try to be the rose, content in themself.

In other words, they are a flower that has been given much meaning in different cultures throughout the ages.

Let's begin by looking at that first quote, they "unfold the mystery of the undying Fire in the Burning Bush" in the City of Certitude, which is the Word of God in the new Revelation.

The Word of God can lead us to all sorts of insights and understandings. They are the guide on that path to truth. But over time that Word can become familiar. We can hear an interpretation that sounds good and go with it, failing to seek new and more wondrous truths within it. There are countless examples of this, one of which is about the Return of the next Messenger. Too many people take these spiritual statements as literal truths and deny the next Manifestation when they appear.

There are, of course, other examples that apply more directly to our immediate life. Many people have heard the phrase, "Turn the other cheek", which effectively has come to be understood as "if someone slugs you, let them slug you again". Not much learned there, except perhaps to avoid such confrontations in the first place.

But when you search that phrase in a good translation of the Bible, you will not find it. Instead what you will discover is that Jesus said, "If a man strikes you on the right cheek, offer him your left." This is far more specific, and if you act it out, you will notice that it refers to a backhanded slap. It's more of an insult than an angry expression of violence. Then, if you merely turn your face a bit to offer the other cheek, too, you find that you are putting the aggressor into a position in which they will learn a spiritual truth, no matter what they do. In a sense, you are daring them to strike again, but if they do the exact same motion, strike in the same manner, they will get you square in the face. They may be willing to slap your cheek, but striking your face is another matter altogether. If they back off, they've learned shame. But if they do strike, then all around them people will call them out on unnecessary violence, and they will learn about collective security,

If we are too familiar with the phrase, though, and don't look beyond the commonly accepted understanding, we will miss the true depth and profundity of the lesson.

The new Message forces us to re-examine the old, giving us new flowers in that garden. And one of the most important things we learn, is that the Message that was given to Moses on Mount Sinai has returned. The flame that burned then, giving the Divine Message to the Manifestation, is still burning. That is one mystery that is revealed.

The second quote, though, is a bit different. He refers to "the roses of wisdom and the tulips of understanding".

Ok, first, the difference between wisdom and understanding. Understanding is in the head, while wisdom is in the heart. Understanding can refer to facts, but wisdom tells us how to put them to use. Understanding is knowing you made a mistake, but wisdom is not making it again.

When it comes to understanding, facts can change with the times. For example, if you have a headache, understanding can lead you to take an aspirin. But if you have a stomach ache, and you remember that the last you felt bad aspirin helped, taking the aspirin now could be dangerous because the symptoms are different.

Another example is that you tell the aggressive child to calm down, but you counsel the timid child to be more assertive. Totally different advice, both leading to a more moderate behaviour.

The tulips are the understanding, and as beautiful as they are, they don't have the heady scent that is noticed from far away. The rose, however, is the wisdom, and that is detectable from a far greater distance.

And that wisdom, just like the rose, usually comes later.

For now, it is the tulips that we await. And they're coming. Soon. I promise.

Oh, and 98 more to go.