The Butterfly

I am in awe of the wisdom of the elders.  Truly I am.

I may not always agree with them, or like their perspective, but I am in awe of their wisdom.

Yet another aside from yours truly: I only put this disclaimer there as I recall a talk that it was my misfortune to hear. In it, an "elder" was telling us in the audience how we would be better off taking our children out back and shooting them instead of letting them grow up in the world.  Shoghi, my son, was only a year old at the time, and he was sitting in my lap as this speaker glared at us.  I am unable to call this speaker an elder, even though he was old.  I think he had a lot to learn about hope and life, but to each their own path.  He was one of the very few exceptions to my love for the elders, and I understand his point was to say how much we needed to work to improve the planet, but he sure didn't do it with wisdom.  Then again, I really need to remember (and apply) Baha'u'llah's words: Every time the sin committed by any one amongst them was breathed in the Court of His Presence, the Ancient Beauty would be so filled with shame as to wish He could hide the glory of His countenance from the eyes of all men, for He hath, at all times, fixed His gaze on their fidelity, and observed its essential requisites.  I have such a long way to go.  End of aside.

It was a tremendous bounty to be able to sit in a study of Ruhi Book 4, The Twin Manifestations, with a group of Aboriginal American Grandmothers.  Actually, that entire week (or two) was a bounty, for while one group was studying Book 4, another group was studying Book 7, and I could wander and sit in with any group I wished.  I believe there was also a group looking at Book 2 and a Book 6 study circle at the same time, but I may be getting my meetings confused.  What I do recall is the studies of Books 4 and 7.

It would actually be impossible for me to forget that Book 7 group as one of the Grandmothers took my Book 7 one night and gave it back to me the next morning adorned with stickers.  It is beautifully decorated with stickers that make up a medicine wheel on the cover, and each sticker has a story that she told me, from the mouse in the middle (which reminded her of me) to the Cookie Monster sticker (as she noticed that I really like cookies) to the sticker of a chicken (whose hair reminded her of mine), and on and on.  Every time I look at the cover of that book, I am reminded of that wonderful gathering, and the many stories she shared.

No, today it was while studying Book 4 with another group that I was reminded of those dear souls once again.

We were studying the following quote, when something that one of those ladies said came back to me:

During the days I lay in the prison of Tihran, though the galling weight of the chains and the stench-filled air allowed Me but little sleep, still in those infrequent moments of slumber 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. Every limb of My body would, as a result, be set afire. At such moments My tongue recited what no man could bear to hear.

She noticed that this "something" began at His head and then "flowed... over (His) breast". I was unable to fathom why this seemed important to her, so I waited for her to explain. She just sat there for about five minutes, letting this observation hang in the air, her lips pursed as she gently rocked back and forth. Her eyes were slightly squinted as she stared somewhere between this world and the next.

No one said a word.  This was fairly normal in their culture, and I just needed to get used to it.  In fact, that was just the way each section worked in this study circle. Someone would read a quote and everyone would sit there in absolute silence, thinking, meditating.  A few minutes later, someone would repeat a single sentence or phrase from the quote, just an observation really, and that would hang in the air for up to ten minutes, followed by the most profound and simple explanation I have ever heard in my life about the application of it.  Everyone would just nod in agreement, and then we would go on to the next section.

For this quote, all this sagacious woman said was that "this something flowed from His head down over His breast".

While this seeped into everyone's conciousness, a yellow butterfly was flitting around outside as an oriole performed an aerial dance back and forth between a few trees.  I'm not sure why I remember that detail, but the two yellows struck me as quite beautiful against the shimmering green grass and the dots of purple flowers on the hills.  Perhaps it was the hills that fixed it in my memory, for hills are a rare thing in my part of the globe. (They often say that Manitoba is so flat that you can watch your dog run away for a week.)

As I lost myself watching this beautiful dance of colour, she spoke again, this time with a story, one I had heard many times, but never connected with this quote.

"When Baha'u'llah was in Karbila, a year before His imprisonment in the Black Pit, He met an old man, Shaykh Hasan-i-Zunuzi.  This man had been told by the Bab to go to Karbila and await the Promised One.  He was to give 'He Whom God Shall Make Manifest' the loving greetings of the Bab, a mission the Bab described as very important.  The Shaykh went there and waited, working to earn his keep. One day, in October of 1851, while praying in the Shrine of the Imam Husayn, he laid eyes upon the blessed countenance of Baha'u'llah. This, he knew, was the Promised One. Baha'u'llah confirmed His station, took this old man by the hand and said, 'This very day I have purposed to make thee known throughout Karbila as a Babi.'" The grandmother paused at this point and looked each of us in the eyes. "How did He know?  This was a full year before He received His revelation in the prison."

I had never considered this before that moment.

"I believe," she said slowly, taking her time to ensure her words were carefully weighed, "that Baha'u'llah always knew.  In His head. But when He was in the prison, this knowledge flowed from His head and washed over His heart, where the Revelation belongs."

Not a word was uttered, not a sound was made, aside from the birdsongs outside, as she stood up and walked to get a cup of coffee.

For myself, I stepped outside and sat as I watched the yellow butterfly move from flower to flower.

This afternoon, as this new study circle read this quote, the whole story came back full force.  As it does every time I read it. And I felt, dear Reader, that it was so beautiful a story that I just had to share it with you.

Gratitude and a Request

Dearly loved Friends,

These past few months have been quite a journey for me, both as a writer and as a reader.  I have learned many things and have struggled to find my voice as a writer for a Baha'i blog.  I have made some simple errors, and found much loving support as you have gently corrected my oversights (see comments on The Feast, as one example).

Aside number 1 - The funny thing about the comments on The Feast is that I was aware of these changes made in that letter, but for some reason couldn't find the letter.  And then when it came to the writing of that article, I just totally spaced out.  Obviously that was so that I could be reminded that these articles are always my own perspective, and as you know, dear Reader, I am not perfect.  Whenever I make an oversight like that, please let me know.  It is very much appreciated.

A lot of letters have come in that are very supportive, and others have come in that ask some amazing questions (a few of which I can attempt to answer publicly).  There have only been a few that don't fit into either of those categories, but they do fit quite nicely in my recycle bin.  So it is all well and good.

At our recent Unit Convention, at which we elected our delegates to go to the National Convention where they will consult as well as elect our National Spiritual Assembly, an interesting question arose.  We had been asked to discuss how well new believers were warmly welcomed into a vigorous institute process.  When this question arose, there was a long silence.  I called out to a new believer at the other end of the room, "Hey Ron!  Did you take Ruhi Book 1?"

He looked up at me and shouted back, "Yes, I did."

"Great," was my joyous response.  "Did you study a prayer with someone?"

And the silence descended upon the room once again.

The long and short of it is that all the new believers in the room had taken Book 1, and a few had done the practices, but every single one of them still had questions that they needed answered.  One of them, for example, asked what Ayyam-i-Ha is, while another wanted to know what the current Plan was.

This gave me an idea, for which I will need your assistance, dear Reader.

What questions did you have, as a new Baha'i?

I am very interested in this and would like to help by putting some of these questions here, as well as some simple answers, based in the Writings as much as possible.  While there is already a Baha'i 101, I would like to try and offer something that is more like a friend chatting with you (as one reader described this blog). I like Baha'i 101, but a lot of people have said that they feel it is too impersonal. I think it is just a case of different styles for different people.  It doesn't really speak well of my writing, just that it responds to a different audience.

Many of you have already noticed that my articles fall into several distinct categories (humourous, administrative, analytical, to name just a few), and this may be another area to branch into.

As I've mentioned before, this blog is written for Baha'is, but it seems many people who are not Baha'i are reading it, too. Well, I'm glad.  We have nothing to hide, after all.

So once again (I've done it before here), I am asking for your assistance.  What questions would have helped you as a new Baha'i?

For what it is worth, one of mine was "What is the Covenant?"  I had asked many Baha'is this, and the conversation usually went something along these lines:

• What is the Covenant?
• Oh, you have to be firm in the Covenant.
• Yes, but what is the Covenant?
• Well, 'Abdu'l-Baha is the Centre of the Covenant.
• Yes, but what is it?
• It's the most important aspect of the Baha'i Faith.
• Ok, but what is it?
• It's what tell us to turn to the Universal House of Justice.
• Yes, but can you tell me what is the Covenant?
• It's an agreement.
• Thanks, but what are we agreeing to?
• Well, it's between you and God.
• Ok, we may be getting somewhere now.  So what do I have to do?
• Oh, I see.  You have to be firm in the Covenant.

It was quite frustrating, and I hope to spare anyone else the silliness of all that.  Of course, now we have those wonderful talks in Ruhi Book 2, so I'm sure nobody will ever have to suffer that again.

So, once again, thank you dear Reader for your kind support.  Now feel free to inundate my inbox with those questions.  You can send them to mead@elsewhere.ca (remember, it's not here.  It's elsewhere.)


With love and prayers,

Mead

The Feast

My family and I had the wonderful bounty of being able to host the last Feast in our home.  It was truly a joy.

Quick aside, number 1 - We had taken all the chairs in the house and put them in the living room for the friends to sit on.  Afterwards, when we had cleared and cleaned the dishes, we decided to wait on putting the furniture back.  We were just too tired.  Marielle and I went upstairs to go to sleep when she looked around the bedroom and said, "I feel like that family from Ruhi Book 2."  I glanced over inquisitively, and she continued, "The Sanchez's".  You have to understand, my wife is French, from Quebec.   "Sans chaises" means "without chairs".

OK, where was I?  Oh yes, the Feast.

As hosts for this Feast, we were asked a number of questions about it by our friends and neighbours.  A few of them wanted to attend the Feast, just to see what it was like.  We were, therefore, in the position of having explain that the Feast is for Baha'is only, and why this was the case.  This turned out to be fortunate because later on one of the Baha'is phoned and asked if she could bring a friend of hers who wasn't a Baha'i.  This friend was an Iranian Muslim who she said is very interested in the Faith.  Needless to say, we had to explain to her that this was not allowed, either.

Aside number 2 - This was a great opportunity to talk about the friends in Iran who are currently on trial for their beliefs, and the dangers they are facing.  My wife had recently been in a remote community, and there was a Baha'i visiting from Iran who gave a public talk in the local library.  She, the woman from Iran, had asked that her name not be used anywhere in the publicizing of the event.  Later, my wife had the opportunity to talk with a local person who had attended.  The person was lamenting that this talk was not better advertised, as it was a very inspirational talk.  "Why," this individual cried, "didn't the Baha'is publicize it more?"  My wife talked about the danger involved in doing so.  She said that this woman who gave the talk had to go back to Iran, and that her entire family was over there.  Publicizing the talk could have put any or all of them in grave danger, literally.  You, dear Reader, will perhaps note that I am not even giving any possible reference here that could lead back to this stalwart soul.  My wife then added, as an after thought, that this was one way in which an injustice in one part of the world could have an impact in a completely different part of the world, even so remote a community as the one in which they were.  I believe that one statement, more than anything, really shook this poor person's view of the world in which we live and made her re-consider the importance of how she act in her life.

Back to the subject at hand, that of only members of the Baha'i community being allowed to attend the Feast, it occurred to me that it might be a good subject to raise here.

For those of you who are not aware of this aspect of the law, and I know that you all know it, the Guardian said, "These 19-Day Feasts are for the Bahá'ís, and the Bahá'ís exclusively, and no variation from this principle is permitted."  But as you also know, he tempered that with, "but if a non-Bahá'í happens to come, we should not ask him to leave and hurt the person's feelings."  The Universal House of Justice has gone on to further explain that "when a non-Bahá'í does appear at a Feast he should not be asked to leave; rather the Assembly should omit the consultative part of the Feast, and the non-Bahá'í should be made welcome."

In a recent letter on this subject, the House of Justice reminded us that, while someone who is not a member of the Baha'i community might accidentally show up, we would certainly never invite a non-Baha'i to a Feast.  They have also let us know that "A non-Bahá'í, who asks to be invited to a Feast will usually understand if this matter is explained to him."  And this is the case: everyone who asked to be invited understood once it was explained to them.  In one case, it got a woman to really think about whether or not she wanted to commit to being a member of the Baha'i community.  She is still undecided, so please keep her in your prayers.

What are we explaining to them?  Why is the Feast reserved for Baha'is only?

The simplest explanation is, of course, found in the guidance from the Universal House of Justice.  They explain, so succinctly, that "the Bahá'ís should be able to enjoy perfect freedom to express their views on the work of the Cause, unembarrassed by the feeling that all they are saying is being heard by someone who has not accepted Bahá'u'lláh and who might, thereby, gain a very distorted picture of the Faith. It would also be very embarrassing for any sensitive non-Bahá'í to find himself plunged into the midst of a discussion of the detailed affairs of the Bahá'í Community of which he is not a part."

I love this explanation. It is so obvious and simple.

A friend of mine used to say that the Feast was a very boring adminsitrative thing, and that they obviously would not want to attend.  Their friend asked, "So why do you?"  My friend realized that this was actually a way of telling the person that the Faith, itself, was boring, and that they obviously would not want to be a part of it.  I think that was the last time they ever used that explanation.

My wife and I noticed that some of our friends thought that the Feast was like a church service, which they would really want to attend.  We tried, unsuccessfully, to explain that it wasn't like a service at all.  Finally we hit upon the idea that it is sort of like a meeting of the Board of Directors of a company.  While not quite accurate, it did allow us to explain a bit about why it was reserved for Baha'is.  And they really understood it then.

We explained that if they wanted anything that was even remotely similar to a church service, that would be either a devotional gathering or a fireside.  Perhaps even a study circle could have something similar.   But what we emphasized is that the Baha'i Faith is not a congregational faith.  We have no clerical class, and therefore we have to do everything ourselves.  No one can bestow any teachings upon us: we have to study for ourselves.  The study circles are not about book learning: they are about helping us learn to arise to the service of humanity.

And during the consultation portion, we are arising as individuals to meet with the Assembly to share with them our ideas and concerns.  We are getting together as a loving and tight-knit family to discuss the affairs of our household, so to speak.  There are many things that we just take for granted during that time, and we need to have the freedom, as the House of Justice said, to express our views.  Of course, when we do this, we still observe all the rules of courtesy that we expect others to share.  We offer ideas, but never criticize.   We offer suggestions, but never insist or impose.  We listen respectfully when other ideas are shared, no matter how absurd they may be (yes, everyone is so patient with me when I talk).  And we base everything upon the guidance offered us in the Writings.

If someone wishes to learn about the Baha'i Faith, a far better venue for that would be a fireside, in which we offer such loving hospitality that they feel free to ask their heartfelt questions.

The night of that Feast, one of our neighbours offered us the best, and most beautiful, gift we could imagine.  She really wanted to attend the Feast, but understood that it was just not the right venue for her to learn about the Faith.  So instead, she came over before the Feast began and asked if she could say prayers with us, in our home.  She wished to help bless our home and prepare it for us to recceive our guests.  Now, she may not have had the language skills to phrase it that way, but that is what I felt of her intentions.  And when the first of our guests arrived, she was just putting on her coat.  It would be difficult to describe the warmth and love with which she greeted our guests, as she was departing.

Yes, that Feast was truly a gift.  It was an honour to be able to host such a gathering of the Friends of God, around which circled the Concourse on High.

Besides, I don't think our house been that clean in months.

FMD, or Foot-in-Mouth Disease

Every now and then, my sense of humour, or perhaps it's my twisted ability to make odd connections, gets me in trouble.

I know, I know. It's hard to believe, but it's true.

When I was working at the US National Centre (lo, those many years ago), I used to have a bowl of candy on my desk.  Hard candies.  The ones that you're supposed to suck on, but always seem to get crunched and chewed.  Anyways, I always had a bowl of them and people would regularly come in and grab one as they walked past and said, "Hi".  This was  bit odd, as I think my desk was about as far off the beaten path as you could get and still be in the building.

One day in February I filled my bowl with extra special candies, super flavours and all that, and put a sign in front of it that said "Happy Ayyam-i-Ha!"  For some reason that made people smile even more than usual.  A few days later I emptied the bowl into a drawer and placed a new sign in front of the now-empty bowl.  "A Yummy?  Ha!  Happy Fast."

It was about two days later that I got a note asking me to go to Robert Henderson's office.

Robert was the Secretary-General of the National Spiritual Assembly at the time, and I felt like I had been called into the principal's office.  I sheepishly made my way down the hall trying to figure out how to explain that I really didn't think the note in front of my bowl was all that offensive, and attempting to figure out how to accept the thought that it might be.  I mean, really, I didn't think it was.

I walked down the hall, trying not to look at anyone, feeling like a cross between a convict going to the gallows and Arlo Guthrie going to sit on the Group W bench.  Needless to say, I was nervous, embarrassed and wondering what was going to happen.  Surely I wouldn't get fired over something as silly as this.

Well, I got to his office, and his assistant looked at me over a letter she was reading and, without the usual smile on her face, motioned me to go on in.  So I did.

Robert, uhm, excuse me, I mean Mr Henderson looked up from what he was doing and asked, no, told me to close the door.  He went back to finishing what he was doing while I turned and did as he bid.  The sound of a closing door never seemed so loud and echoey in all my life.

And then silence.

A few dispensations later, he looked up, stood up, and walked around his desk to me.  "I understand," he said in his rich voice, "that you can teach people to juggle."

And that, I believe, was the moment that I first experienced spiritual whiplash.

For years I had worked at Renaissance Faires in the States, and one of my pasttimes at them was to teach people to juggle. It seemed he had heard about this and had always wanted to learn, but never had the chance.

As you can imagine, he picked it up very quickly and even began to juggle a bit during some of his talks.  He is one of those people who never fails to impress me with his knowledge, wisdom and ability to convey a point to an audience.  His spiritual qualities go without saying.  And if there is anything that I will remember about my time at the National Center... well, that's not all that high on the list, but I won't forget it.

There was another time that I almost shudder when recalling. I had been asked to speak about the environment, and I was given absolutely no clue as to what the audience would be like.  All I knew was where to go and when. I couldn't even remember the name of the group that invited me. Nada. Nothing. Zip.

As per my usual madness, I mean method, I prepared five or six talks on the issue and wondered what the talk would eventually be about.

I was called up, got up, and spoke up.  First, though, I said a prayer.  In fact, I said my all time favorite prayer for that sort of a situation.  It's the one that goes, "Oh God!  Help!"  I'm not sure who wrote it, or where it is in the writings, but it is one of my favorites.  In fact, I even have it memorized.

Then I spoke up.

And what came out? A Hidden Word.

One of Baha'u'llah's.

"Yeah", I thought, "can't go wrong there."

I quoted an excerpt from the Persian Hidden Words, #20.  Remember it?  It says, "ye walk on My earth complacent and self-satisfied, heedless that My earth is weary of you and everything within it shunneth you."


OK, maybe not the best quote to open with, but it sure caught their attention.  I guess they were expecting something sweet and lovely, kind of "new age"-ish in feel (remember, the Simpson's referred to the Faith in that famous line "Oh no, it's a gentle Baha'i"), and they got me, instead.  From there, I was at least able to segue it into something about our role as custodians of the planet.

Sometimes I really have to wonder why I get called back to speak again at these sorts of gigs.

A sillier example is when my wife and I went shopping.  We got home, and I jumped around back to the trunk of the car and grabbed all dozen or so bags.  She looked amused and said, "You know, I can get some of those if you want."

"Oh no," I replied, "I'm following Baha'u'llah's command."

She knew I was setting her up, and still responded, "And which command is that?"

"All men were created to carry..."

When she finished laughing, she added, "...forward an ever-advancing civilization. You clown."

It might not have been "you clown" she said, but it was pretty close.

Yeah, sometimes my sense of humour gets me into trouble.  In fact, I'm still expecting a phone call from one of the Counsellors (or at least an Auxiliary Board member) about this blog.

Fortunately, the Concourse on High always seems to come to my aid.

I guess it just makes sense.  After all, they say that God looks after fools and small children.

Capture the Flagging Attention

The other day I attended a presentation on another faith path, and it really got me thinking.  Oh, not about their traditions, but about the presentation.  In fact, it reminded me so much of so many other presentations I have heard in the past that I felt I had to comment on it.

I have nothing against the particular tradition that was shared that evening, in fact there is quite a bit that I think it has to offer, but you would be hard pressed to tell that from the presentation.

Now, I don't mean to overly criticize the presenters, for they were quite good when they were speaking from their hearts, but the prepared stuff reminded me a bit too much of a shopping list.  And to be honest, most presenters do this when put in the position they were in.  They had been asked to speak about their faith before a group of people who, for most part, knew nothing of their traditions.

So what did they do that got my hackles up?  They gave a list of their beliefs.  Like I said, a shopping list.

A few years ago, I happened to catch a radio show called "The Age of Persuasion", on CBC, and it really caught my attention.  He said something in there that made so much sense I haven't forgotten it.  The show, in case you are not aware of it, is about advertising.  Yes, you read it correctly: advertising.  A show about commercials.

To summarize that episode, he spoke about the beginning of advertising as we know it.  According to the host, it all began with the one-sheets, single sheet newspapers that were printed to convey the news, and when there was space left over, they ran a few ads.  Those ads usually read something like "John's Stationers.  Paper, envelopes and pens."  Pretty catchy, no?  No.

After unsuccessfully running these ads for a few decades, the people writing the copy for them made an amazing discovery: verbs.  Soon afterwards, these literary gems would read something like "Come to John's Stationers.  See our paper, envelopes and pens."

As you can imagine, the response was somewhat underwhelming.

It wasn't until much later that these geniuses of the market discovered what people around campfires have known since ancient times: we remember stories.

Soon, the marketers were turning out stories like there was no tomorrow, each of which showcased their product saving the day.  And were they successful? Well, how many of us can picture Santa Claus, that iconic spokesman of Coca-Cola?  Or did you think the red and white was coincidental?  Well, ok, the colours were coincidental at first, but not for long.

And that is only a single example of many.  Most of the commercials we recall today are, in their essence, a short story.

Needless to say, we have come a long way in our understanding of how to capture people's attention since the early 1900s.

So why is it that when someone asks the average Baha'i what the Faith is all about, we rattle off some list of "basic principals"?  All right, maybe that's not quite the case any more, what with the brilliant presentation in Ruhi Book 6, but it is still common enough for me to comment on it.  Especially after the presentation the other night.

Yes, we believe in one God, but who doesn't?  Sure we recognize the equality of women and men, but you have to go to the fringes of society to find people who don't believe that these days (at least in most countries).  Racial equality?  It's been planted in the hearts of the young for more than a generation now.  Yes we have a long way to go, but everyone would agree with the basic idea.

No, if we want to convey the dramatic importance of the Faith, we have to convey the stories, as well as the Word of God.  In fact, I would venture to guess that for most of us, the stories are what will capture the attention.  It is the Word of God that will maintain the interest.

But for now, we should really revise the way we introduce the Faith.  To say that we believe in "the oneness of God, the oneness of humanity and the oneness of religion" does not even begin to convey the majesty and beauty of these ideas.

When we say "God, throughout history, has sent down different Messengers to help guide humanity", then we begin to throw off a spark that may ignite within their heart.  When we combine this with the uplifting and dramatic poetry we find within the Writings, then we are tossing some fuel onto that fire.

When asked if we believe in life after death, why should we even think of answering 'yes' or 'no'?  It is not a yes or no question.  It is a question of vision, and how we perceive this world and the next.  We can speak about death being made "a messenger of joy" to us, and proceed to talk about the uplifting vision that Baha'u'llah has bestowed upon us of the next world, a world wholly unlike anything we have seen here, as different from this world as this one is from the womb we left behind.

We are the followers of a faith that is mystical at its core, uplifting in its effect, world-embracing, transforming, sacred and completely practical in its application.  This is not something that can be conveyed in just a few lines, a few points, or a simple yes or no.

Behind every Book that was penned by the Blessed Beauty, behind every line in each one of those Books, and hidden within each word of those precious lines lies a story that will move us to tears of joy and feats of heroism.

Prior to the advent of the Primal Point, the Bab, it is said that all the Prophets had only revealed two of the twenty-seven letters of knowledge.  The Bab revelaed the remaining twenty-five letters.  So what did that leave for Baha'u'llah?  Perhaps He used those letters to reveal Words.

And now we can use His words to tell a story.

Training

The Blessed Perfection suffered innumerable ordeals and calamities, but during His lifetime He trained in all regions many souls who were peerless. The purpose of the appearance of the Manifestations of God is the training of the people. That is the only result of Their mission, the real outcome. The outcome of the whole life of Jesus was the training of eleven disciples and two women. Why did He suffer troubles, ordeals and calamities? For the training of these few followers. That was the result of His life. The product of the life of Christ was not the churches but the illumined souls of those who believed in Him. Afterward, they spread His teachings.

It is my hope that you all may become the product of the life of Bahá'u'lláh and the outcomes of His heavenly training. When the people ask you, "What has Bahá'u'lláh accomplished?" say to them, "He has created these; He has trained us."

This is one my favorite quotes from 'Abdu'l-Baha, found in Promulgation of Universal Peace.  Why is this one of my favorites?  For starters, it places the whole mission of Jesus into a perspective that we rarely see, and yet, it is one that makes so much sense.  It obviously conforms to the historical reality as we know it.

But what really touches me is the concept of training and the role it plays in the development of a civilization.  After all, those study circles we all engage in, those study groups we join to do the Ruhi books, are part of the training institute.  This begs the question, "What is training?"

If we look in the dictionary, it cleverly tells us that training means "the education, instruction, or discipline of a person or thing that is being trained".  Maybe it's just me, but I think that definitions that include the defined word in it are generally useless, and so we now have to look up the word "train".

According to the dictionary, the verb form of the word "train" means "to develop or form the habits, thoughts, or behavior of" and individual.  Now we're getting somewhere.  When looking at the origin of the word, it seems to come from a previous term meaning "to instruct" or "to drag behind".  Well, that often describes what the training looks like from the perspective of the instructor: dragging the unwilling students forward.  Fortunately that's not what it looks like in a study circle.

But let's look at this in the context of the Faith (after all, isn't that why we're here), and the training institute.

What is involved in training?  What is its purpose?  How do we measure it?

Training requires instruction, repetition and action.  Measurement is easy: we look at the results of the action.  And it is always for a purpose.  So what is the purpose of the training that 'Abdu'l-Baha refers to?

While I am not completely certain, I would venture to guess that it is service to humanity for the goal of helping to establish a divine civilization.  And don't we all need training in that?  I mean, really, no one has ever built a divine civilization before.  We may have the blueprints, but now, as the builders, we need on-the-job training.

So how does this training in the training institute work?  Sort of like training in sports, I believe.

We begin each session with a bit of a warm-up, otherwise known as prayers.  From there, looking at the curriculum, we start with simple exercises, designed to develop the most basic habit of all: looking at the Writings.

I have to point out, here, that I have noticed an amazing difference between myself and those who have entered into the Faith under the guidance of the training institute.  When I am consulting in a group, my inclination, unfortunately, is to add in my own ideas and perspective as we go along (in case you haven't noticed).  Those more mature believers who have recently enrolled are always turning to the Writings first, for guidance.  This, for them, is a habit they don't even need to think about.  They just do it, and presume that we all do.  God bless them, for they will propel the Faith forward in its development far faster and more efficiently than a thousand poor souls like yours truly.

So, there you have it.  The first requirement for training: developing a habit.  And which habit, in particular, are we interested in?  Turning to the Writings (after saying those prayers).

The practice, as you know, in the first unit of Ruhi Book 1 is to read a bit of the Writings every morning and evening.  When we do this, those Writings begin to shape our very thoughts.  We find ourselves drawing upon them more and more, and this to greater effect when we have them memorized.  I like to think of it as the dietary regime for our training.  And once our thoughts are beginning to be shaped by them, our actions soon follow.

There is also a pattern, or method, to the training.  When you work with a sports trainer, they have a program already in mind.  They work on multiple skills simultaneously, ensuring that the simple skills are well developed before moving on to the more complex skills.

This is true in the Ruhi books, too.  We begin the whole thing with a section on deeds, or action.   It is no coincidence that the first quote in the entire curriculum, out of all the myriad quotes they could have used, is "The betterment of the world can be accomplished through pure and goodly deeds, through commendable and seemly conduct."  After all, if our spiritual life does not result in deeds, what good is it?

But those deeds must be based in truthfulness, which is the second topic addressed.  After all, if our deeds are not truthful, what good are they?  However, it is possible to do something, be truthful and really hurt someone ("Golly, that dress really makes you look fat").

Kindness is needed, and is therefore the third topic.  We must be kind, for if we are not, we can say as much truth as we want, but the people will never listen.  Their hearts will be closed to us, and to our words.

Finally, we may actually do something, be truthful and think that we are being kind, but discover we are backbiting.  Backbiting?  Don't do it. Nothing will destroy the bonds of trust and love within a community faster than backbiting and gossip.  Everything towards which we are working will truly come to nothing if we are backbiting.

This last section, the one on backbiting, makes many of us nervous.  At least it made me nervous.  Why?  Because in it Baha'u'llah tells us that "backbiting quencheth the light of the heart, and extinguisheth the life of the soul".  Extinguishes the life of the soul?  What?  You mean to say that the life of my soul has been extinguished?  It's gone?  That's it?

Fortunately, someone heard my panic and took solace on me.  The very next unit is all about prayer, which "kindles" my soul.

There you have it.  If the soul is extinguished, prayer will re-ignite it.

And all of this is only the opening unit (plus a bit), the first of three in only the first book.

Now that we have been properly trained, regularly turn to the Writings before...  What?  What do you mean, "What if you haven't?"

Ok, let's take a quick peek, once again, in Unit 1 of Book 1.  Section 4, to be precise.  You know that question about "list 5 virtues"?  Well, as a tutor who has been trained with some pretty smart cookies, I learned to always ask the group to answer those questions in that section on their own before discussing them.  Now, this is a secret trick, so please don't tell anyone.  While they are answering that first question, I'm watching them. Do they flip back looking for those 5 virtues?  Of course!  We all do.  We all fell for that trick.

Oh, we didn't?  Well then, those that don't flip back are the ones I ask to answer the next question, "How can a kindly tongue be described?"  I can just about guarantee that they will give some long-winded, wonderful answer that has nothing to do with the quote.  By simply asking, "Thanks, and what does the quote say?" they are now trained to look back at the Writings.  Works every time.

But enough of that.

Now that we are looking at the Writings, our heart naturally turns to our Creator in thanks.  We pray.  It is so natural a response that it's almost silly to have a unit on it.  But silly it is not.  It is an important habit that we must continually develop, and we like to cultivate that.  The practice, however, is a bit interesting: study a prayer with someone.  We are not asked to pray with someone (although that is good), nor memorize a prayer with someone (which is also good), but to study it.

Why is that?

Again, I won't profess to have an authoritative answer, just one that works for me. I like to study a prayer with others because it helps make that mind/heart connection, which is so vital if we are to get as much as possible out of the Writings.  We always find more in the prayers than we dreamed of, and discover new perspectives that enrich our spiritual life.

This mind/heart conection is so important a part of our training, and one that was continually iterated and re-iterated (and re-re-iterated) by the Central Figures of our Faith.  It is, to my eye, the foundation of the principal of the independant investigation of truth.

And through it all, we are continually shown how to apply the Writings in action.  This is our training, a pattern that was established so early in our history.

I could go on and on, quoting those marvelous messages from the Universal House of Justice and the International Teaching Centre about the importance of the training institutes, and continue to describe what you already know about the Ruhi books, but really, I think that's enough for now.

Training requires the imparting of basic knowledge, repetition until that basic knowledge sinks in and becomes a habit, and the application of that knowledge.  Once the basics are mastered, or at least accomplished with a fair degree of facility, then we can go on to more complex tasks, until they, too, become second nature.

And this, to me, is what the Manifestations of God try to help us do.  They train us in virtuous behaviour, in such a manner so that it becomes second nature to do a virtuous act.

Come to think of it, that is the secret behind the parable of Good Samaritan, isn't it?  He did what needed to be done without even giving it a second thought.

Hopefully my son will be able to arise to that level of service.  I know I still give it a second thought, but who knows?  There may be hope for me yet.

At least when people ask me "What has Baha'u'llah done?"  I can point to those other Baha'is around me and say, "Well, He has trained them."

The Spiral of Growth

I love reading. I mean, I really love reading.  Reading is one of my all-time favorite past-times, and I will read just about anything I can get my hands on.

When I was a child, I used to go to the library and just flit from section to section reading any- and every- thing.  It was only natural that I would end up working in bookstores for many years.

There was one day, shortly after I started my first job in a bookstore, that a mother came in with her son (maybe 6 or 7 years old).  He obviously did not have the passion for books that I do, to put it mildly.  As soon as I was able to get his attention, during a momentary break for breath during his screaming fit, I asked him what he enjoyed doing.  Where would he rather be?  He told me about some toy in the toystore just down the mall, and I knew it had something to do with jungles.

"Would you like to go swinging on the vines in a jungle?"  I asked him this in a conspiratorial sort of way, hinting that this would be a kind of secret between us.  I grabed a copy of Tarzan and read him a few passages, talking about what we might see as we swung through the jungle.  From there, we "swung" over to mystery and roamed the streets of London with Sherlock Holmes.  As we turned the corner, we caught up with Captain Nemo and dove 20,000 leagues under the sea with him.

As we came up for air, we ended up on the Galapagos Islands with Darwin, studying the various animals he found.  This took us into a study of turtles and tortoises that will never be matched.  The turtles, we knew, carried the ancient Indian world on its back, and thus we flew up to the stars to try and catch a glimpse of the giant turtle on its journey through the universe.  Pictures of stars led us into a photo book of flowers, and we almost made it all around the bookstore by the time his mother was finished.

The little boy left in giggling tears, unable to contain his enthusiasm and excitement to come back again.  By the way, I think I was 15 at the time, and that experience further fueled my love for books.

To this day, I still will read most anything I can get my hands on.

Recently, a book called "The Universe Within Us" came across my path, and this book has changed the way I view certain things in my world.

In it, the author describes the traditional scientific view of the classification of the world, otherwise known as taxonomy.  She begins with a large circle cut in two, sort of like a French Silk pie, if I'm the one serving it.  One side was the mineral world and the other the biological.  She then to proceeds to divide the biological side into numerous pieces, like my wife would that same pie if she were serving it. At first, she just includes the vegetable and the animal kingdoms, but then goes into the more "modern" understanding of "monera, protoctista, fungi, plantaea and animalia", with us human-types being in the last one.

As you can imagine, this is a very divisive way of looking at the world, and does not really conform all that well to reality.  It certainly does not address the important questions of the different areas of that pie, nor the deep spiritual questions of life.  It only seems to make a vain attempt at placing everything within simple compartments.

From that basic description of "scientific" taxonomy, she then looks at a quote from 'Abdu'l-Baha, found in Promulgation of Universal Peace, page 336.  This is the quote (too lengthy to quote here) in which He defines the various kingdoms, such as the mineral (with its attribute of attraction), the vegetable (with the attribute of growth), the animal (with the senses and intelligence) and the human (with its many attributes of virtues, planning ability, moral choice and so forth).  These she places in concentric circles, with the mineral in the centre, showing how each kingdom encompasses all the ones before it.  In other words, the animal kingdom includes the attributes of growth and attraction from both the vegetable and mineral kingdoms.  The human kingdom includes all the ones before it, too.

But even these concentric circles do not quite seem to cover it.  They, too, are ultimately divisive in nature, for you are either in one circle or another.  There is also no clear indication how something would move from one circle to another, and how we, as humans, would progress in our development.

From there, she takes an intuitive leap and points out that a spiral would also fit in with 'Abdu'l-Baha's description, and at the same time be more in accord with what we see around us.  This spiral shape to the metaphor has other benefits as well, which I will get into shortly.

The way this works is that the mineral kingdom is located near the centre, with its attribute of attraction.  As you move fuly around the spiral you are then in the vegetable kingdom, with its attribute of growth added to the attraction.  From there, you spiral into the animal kingdom, with the senses, and then on into human kingdom.

But as you can imagine, the spiral shape implies that it keeps going further inward than we can perceive, and it keeps going outward beyond us.  There is room for growth.

It also allows for other quirks such as the "ability" for stalactites and stalagmites, as well as various crystaline formations, to grow.  You can easily place chimpanzees and dolphins closer to the human end of the animal spiral, realizing that the division is not as clear cut as we first thought.  This is similar to Wittgenstein's famous question about pointing to the colour red on a rainbow.  Where is the red?  It is sort of from here to somewhere around there.

It also adds another dimension regarding our own growth.  This spiral implies that we begin in the mineral kingdom, as an egg and sperm cell, not yet showing the attribute of growth.  As soon as those two cells unite, growth begins

And even though the soul is already somehow associated with the newly formed unicellular body, it takes time before anyone can perceive the attributes of the animal senses in that growing group of cells, much less the attributes associated with the human kingdom.  Those attributes are all there in potential, and will take time to actualize.

This is what I find most fascinating: this idea of taking time to realize the potential.  For, after all, isn't that what we see in everyday life?

We watch a child who has grown their body to a certain stage of development stumble and fall as they are learning to walk. As our intellectual capacities are developing, it takes time for us to grasp certain points in school, far before they are second nature to us.

Recognizing this pattern of striving for excellence by trying to reach beyond what is currently available to us, she asks what we are currently striving for.  The answer, she says, is virtuous behaviour.  Our intellectual development puts us in the position of having to make moral or ethical choices and, if you're anything like me, you stumble and fall far more often than that little child who is trying to learn to walk.

The outward path of that spiral, the part that is just beyond our current capacity to envision, will, I believe, become far more clear as we learn to act virtuously.  It becomes far more real to us as this virtuous behaviour becomes second nature to us.

But will this happen in our lifetime?  Well, will it happen in my lifetime?  Not likely.  I will probably experience more development in this area after I pass on, but for now, I have to begin.

This is how this new paradigm, based, to my eye, on the Writings, has shifted how I perceive so much around me.

I know that I will die.  It is only a matter of time.  In fact, it is a matter of time.  The real question is "How can I prepare for that eventuality?"

The way that I perceive the world right now will say a lot about how I prepare.  If I believe that I am only a highly developed animal, destined to go back to the mineral kingdom, then my preparation will be to acquire as many "toys" as I can, and live vicariously for as long as I can.

But if I perceive death as a stepping stone on the path of my development, moving me closer and closer to my spiritual destiny, then I will prepare for that eventuality to the best of my ability.
Our perspective of these issues plays a vital part in how we live.  This perspective also plays a major role in how we die.

After all, two things we cannot escape are death and taxonomy.