The Source of All Good

The other day, my family and I had a wonderful dinner at a friend's home. She is an Aboriginal elder, and many aspects of the meal reflected this. One thing that she did was say a blessing before the meal, and smudge the room, along with the food. She also had someone collect a small piece of each food that was served, place it in a bowl, and then offer the bowl back to the earth. The bowl was later taken out and the food was buried in the ground. This is a tradition amongst her people.

A few days prior to this, my family and I had the bounty of going to a presentation on the Right of God. This presentation focused on the concept of this law being spiritual in nature, and not the many non-mathematical aspects of it.

Combined with all of this was our study of Ruhi Book 8, Unit 3, in which there are questions such as "What kinds of injustices are committed when the desire for greater and greater profit is accepted as the fundamental operating principle of business?" It reminds us that "the West puts itself forward... as a model and measure for others", but is not actually all that good of a model. In fact, our model "distorts human nature and purpose, trapping human beings in a pursuit of idle fancies and vain imaginings and turning them into pliable objects in the hands of the powerful."

When we came home, we had a very interesting conversation. (Standard disclaimer number 7 - This is all just our own opinion, but we really liked what we learned, so you can take it or leave it as you will.)

The essence of the conversation is as follows:

First, we realized that Huququ'llah is referred to, not only a "mighty law", but as "the source of grace, abundance, and of all good. It is a bounty which shall remain with every soul in every world of the worlds of God".

Now, the Right of God, or Huququ'llah, as you know, is an amount that is paid on whatever material wealth you accumulate, beyond your basic needs, once that amount reaches a certain level. You get to decide what your basic needs are, but beyond that, it is fairly straightforward.

When talking about the Right of God, we often hear it referred to as a form of taxation. It is likened, historically, to tithing and zakat, and other forms of revenue generation found in previous religions.

But is it?

We began to wonder.

You see, these other form of taxation are a straightforward payment. You earn money, you pay money. Nothing much to it, except that it is quite difficult if you are exceptionally poor. No provisions seem to be made for that. It is a mere mathematical calculation that all are required to obey. And maybe it's just me, but I don't see how any luxury tax, no matter what the percentage, could possibly be the "source of all good". Some good, for sure, but all good? Not likely. That would be just too materialistic a thing for me to believe.

But the Right of God is much more than that. It engages the heart, and requires planning and consideration on the part of the payee. It requires you to consciously organize your finances to decide how much is for your needs, and then calculate how much extra you earn. As you grow in this law, your needs seem to diminish as you recognize how little you actually require to survive. Now it's not asking you to be ascetic in your tastes, just honest about your desires versus your needs.

And yet, in the end, it has the phenomenal effect of altering your behaviour.

That, I see, as potentially being the "source of all good". Adopting that new attitude is a true "grace", and now it finally makes sense that it is this new attitude that would "remain with every soul in every world of the worlds of God". I never could imagine carrying around a pocket full of cash in all those different worlds, which is what I always pictured when people spoke of that aspect of this law. That just seemed silly to me.

So why do we always talk about it in terms of materialism? Why do we tend to speak of the benefits as being a material return on our "investment"? You know, as if paying the Right of God will somehow bring money back into our community sevenfold, or whatever? That's not the point, is it? The money will flow to wherever the Universal House of Justice sees fit. But the rewards that we see in our daily life as we strive to be more obedient to this law are far more impressive. As the numbers of people adhering to this "mighty law" increase, and as more and more people become aware of its importance, we will see an actual change in behaviour in our communities. People will become far more conscious of how they spend their hard earned monies, more aware of what frivolities they consume, and more conscientious of their needs and wants.

In one tradition, the native people would take the bones of their fish and return them to the waters, believing that the spirit of the fish was in their bones. This would allow them to come back if their bones were returned. In many cultures burnt offerings were given in recognition of giving back to the gods what was theirs. In Laotian Buddhism, the entire community gets together and offers the lunchtime meal to the monks, who eat their fill, and then return what is left to the community as a blessing and contribution.

In all these traditions, moderation is inherent. Humility is abundant. Awareness of how our own sense of generosity impacts the world around us is cultivated.

These, to me, are the true antecedents of the Right of God.

You see, if it were merely a luxury tax, as I alluded to earlier, then tithing and zakat would come close, but we would never get beyond the concept of this materialistic attitude. The very idea of a minimum payment would be absurd, for only the amount of cash generated would hold any importance. And that I cannot see being the main purpose of this law, given what I know of Baha'u'llah's teachings.

But when we recognize that the calculation of this sum is the fulfillment of that law, and the payment is, while important, only secondary, then we realize that even the poorest person on this planet will reap the benefit of it, for the very act of calculation fulfills the spirit of this "mighty law". Payment of any money owing, if applicable, is then not only a simple act, but one that you do "with utmost pleasure and gladness, nay with insistence". And phrases such as, "although these insignificant amounts are not worthy of mention, they are well-pleasing, since the donors offer them for the sake of God", suddenly make more sense.

11

One of the problems with writing a blog is that everyone and their uncle, their aunt, their neighbour's dog and their cousin's-neighbour's-brother-in-law's-friend send you products or books or links to web-sites for review. Virtually all of them end up deleted faster than you can say "kazibblefarken".

Occasionally, though, one of these gleam through the gloam and you realize that it is that rare breed: a gem amidst the muck.

"11", by my friend Paul Hanley is one of these gems.

I have to admit my reluctance to begin when I received it. I was in the middle of reading some letters from Shoghi Effendi, in Citadel of Faith, and enjoying some novels by Robert Heinlein on the side. (I'm a sucker for good science fiction.)

But he asked if I would consider reading it and possibly reviewing it for him, and I had agreed. I mean, I really was looking forward to it, just not then. And so the days wore on. Then the weeks began to pass, and that book was still sitting there patiently awaiting its turn.

Finally, after closing the Door into Summer (one of those Heinlein books) (great story, but kind of creepy, too, in a way), I figured I had put it off long enough.

Within the first few paragraphs I was hooked.

The overall aim of the book is to describe what must change with the advent of 11 billion people on the planet, the conservative prediction for the end of this century.

He begins by describing our society, and the impact of some of the things we either do or take for granted, in a clear and concise manner. For example, he mentions the origin of the "coffee break", which comes from the coffee cartels taking advantage of the then-recently instituted morning break gained by the unions. The ads basically asked "Have you had your coffee break today?" Thus they carefully inserted the word coffee, creating an institution by which they handsomely benefited.

He also talks about the dangers of such simple things as waiting in your car to go through a drive-through window at a fast food place, the subtle way in which economists and business people changed our values from being producers to being consumers, the deliberate manner in which corporations chose to produce products that were designed to break down and force us to buy new items. Example after example, with references for all his sources, he begins to show us how we have been manipulated into a lifestyle that is systematically destroying the environment.

Much of it is not new, but it is refreshing to see it laid out so clearly, concisely, and with good references.

There are some minor errors, such as his depiction of streets and cars. He says that the dominance of the car on the street began in the 1920s, or so, with the invention of the term "jay walker" by the auto and oil industries. And while he does get that story correct, this dominance can easily be traced back quite a bit earlier with the nobility in many societies freely running down the lower classes on the roads if they didn't get out of the way of their galloping horses or carts in time. But those errors are so minor they in no way detract from the salient points he is trying to make..

His starting point is still valid, and very well researched.

He spend quite a bit of time on agriculture, which only makes sense, as food is, and will continue to be, a major issue for many in the world. He talks about reforestation projects, many of which I did not know, and reclamation projects, many of which I had heard. He talks about how many hectares of arable land are dedicated to such things as tobacco. he doesn't say that we shouldn't have tobacco products, but just places it in the context of how many people could be fed if that land was farmed for cereal grains. At no point does he say we should or shouldn't do anything. Rather he informs us of the cost of our actions and allows us to make our own more informed decisions. And it is just this sort of information that is best suited to changing behaviour, customs and laws.

He talks about education projects that help best develop healthy attitudes, those sorts of attitudes that are necessary for sustaining 11 billion people on this fragile planet of ours. He points out our excesses in entertainment, whether it is the number of people that could have been sustained by the resources dedicated to massive large budget movies, or the sports complex gripping untold tens of millions. He carefully distinguishes between those projects that are productive of sustaining goods, such as farms or clothing, and those that are entertaining, such as sports, alcohol or tobacco. And again, he doesn't say that we should do away with these entertainments or arts, but rather that we should be more conscious of the true cost of them.

In the end, he seems to me to ask a single question: What do we require to sustain such a large global population? The answer is found in those simple values that have been carefully eroded away: Moderation, humility, and compassion.

This is a book that I will read again, and re-read again, hopefully with a group of people around me so that we can consult on the many issues he raises.

I do not often promote a book or a product, but this is one that I believe is well worth it.

I strongly encourage everyone who reads this to go out and read that book.

http://www.elevenbillionpeople.com

A Single Kernel

The day I became a Baha'i, I ran into Mrs Khadem, widow of the Hand of the Cause of God, Mr Khadem. I know that I mentioned meeting her a few times in previous articles but I never actually said what happened.

I was at the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette, near Chicago, and I had just been given a lengthy lecture in the library about what it meant to be a Baha'i, none of which I remember. In a post-oratorial daze, I opened the door and meant to step into the visitor's centre, but stepped, instead, into Mrs Khadem. Full on. Bang. Knocked her right over.

After much apologizing on my part, helping her up all the while, she, too, proceeded to tell me the importance of what I had just done. Enrolling in the Faith, not knocking her over.

Out of all the things that people said to me on that first day of my life as an actual enrolled member of this Faith of ours, only one thing stands out, and it came from Mrs Khadem. "You must", she said, "read the writings of the Guardian."

Over the years this has been one of my guiding lights in the Faith: to continue to read the writings of the Guardian.

In fact, whenever a friend declares their faith, I strongly encourage them to read Shoghi Effendi's writings. To my great surprise, though, I have seen many veteran Baha'is try to talk others out of reading his works. "It's too difficult", they claim, "for a new Baha'i." To which I lovingly reply, "Hogwash."

I love the Guardian's works. They are precise, beautiful and very inspirational. They not only give me a clearer understanding of what Baha'u'llah teaches, they raise my vision, too. They challenge me, and change me. They get me to not only rise beyond my own vision of what I think this Faith is, but they challenge me to better understand my own mother tongue.

And today, it seems to me that many new Baha'is I meet are only reading those portions of the Guardian's writings that are either found in the Ruhi curriculum or quoted by the Universal House of Justice. Of course, there are those who do read his works, but I'm finding more and more who are not.

I suspect they don't know what they are missing.

I was reading "Citadel of Faith" the other day, not a common one to read for sure, when I ran across the following passage. It was written for the centenary of the Martyrdom of the Bab and shared at the gathering in the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette. (Yes, the same place I unceremoniously plowed into Mrs Khadem.)

It's only two pages long, and begins with a reminder that the Bab was the "Founder of the Dispensation marking the culmination of the six thousand year old Adamic Cycle" and the "Inaugurator of the five thousand century Baha'i Cycle". In two paragraphs he briefly outlines the history of the Faith of the Bab, and the incredible turmoil that occurred within the world's governments and religious institutions from that time through the writing of his letter. He takes another couple of lines to outline the history of the Baha'i administration as well as mention the valiant deeds of those believers who were present on that occasion, and adds another single line casting our sight into the future to the Golden Age of the Faith. Then, and this is where I wanted to begin, he gives us yet another vision altogether.

"Lastly", he writes with such beauty, "the Holy Seed of infinite preciousness, holding within itself incalculable potentialities representing the culmination of the centuries-old process of the evolution of humanity through the energies released by the series of progressive Revelations starting with Adam and concluded by the Revelation of the Seal of the Prophets, marked by the successive appearance of the branches, leaves, buds, blossoms and plucked, after six brief years by the hand of destiny, ground in the mill of martyrdom and oppression but yielding the oil whose first flickering light cast upon the somber, subterranean walls of the Siyah-Chal of Tihran, whose fire gathered brilliance in Baghdad and shone in full resplendency in its crystal globe in Adrianople, whose rays warmed and illuminated the fringes of the American, European, Australian continents through the tender ministerings of the Center of the Covenant, whose radiance is now overspreading the surface of the globe during the present Formative Age, whose full splendor is destined in the course of future milleniums to suffuse the entire planet."

Just imagine that. Take a moment, dear Reader, to visualize what he is saying. Envisage this tree, growing through all history, through all seasons, surging forth with each subsequent Revelation, producing a shoot, a small branch, eventually growing into a larger tree with leaves, and finally, after many centuries, a flower. This flower has grown to produce a seed, which has been taken and ground to produce an oil, which, in turn, has been ignited, casting a light that has shone within their hearts and throughout the world.

What a vision.

But then, as if that wasn't enough, he shows them how much the Faith has grown in the one hundred years since that momentous event. And he doesn't just give them the statistics; he prefaces it within this beautiful poetical vision. He says, "the crushing of this God-imbued kernel upon the anvil of adversity has ignited the first sparks of the Holy Fire latent within it", and then proceeds to unveil to them the immensity of their successes and victories.

The Guardian not only gave us a clearer vision of the teachings of our faith; he not only showed us where we were going as a community; he not only outlined for us the full scope of our Administration and showed us the way to victory; he did all this, and more, with a sense of beauty and poetry and grace.

And with far more grace than I showed when I first enrolled.

That's Correct

In my most recent article, I talked about racism and how we needed to be a bit more aware of it, as well as understand its impact.

The responses were amazing. Thank you, all.

And I don`t mean thanks for the praise, for there wasn`t much of it, and what there was I don`t feel was deserved. It would be like thanking me for pointing out that there is garbage strewn around a park. It's sort of a thankless task.

The reason I am thanking you is for all your heart-felt concerns and questions about your own lives, and the confirmation of the breadth of the problem. The stories often brought me to tears, and the confessions raised some very interesting and real points about how to deal with racism in your own life.

Out of it all, one thing in particular stood out and that was the recurring theme of how to handle someone who does something in the "wrong" way. While the words "correct", "right", "appropriate" and all their synonyms and antonyms came up often when describing the problem, I don't think it was really what was meant.

Let me explain.

One friend very lovingly gave a real example from their own life. He is in a position of hiring people to work with a team of others. When he interviews people, the concern is not only their experience and expertise, but also their ability to work well as part of that team. So far, so good.

Where he lives, in the US mid-west, there is a great difference in style of speech between the African-Americans and the White folk. It is a very real difference, and a lot of prejudice surrounds it. To the White folk, this other style of speech sounds ignorant. To the African-Americans, the other people sound snobbish. This is only exacerbated by my friend's very natural assertion, "we speak correct, un-dialected un-accented grammatically-proper English".

When I read that phrase to my wife, who is from Quebec, she just about doubled over laughing.

You see, what my friend meant was that he was speaking in the normal style for his community. It is an agreed upon standard, and it feels natural to him. It would never occur to him that there is anything else.

But it accented. (To my ear, it sounds very nasal, and that they are about to swallow their vowels.) And it is a dialect. (Their phonology, grammar, and vocabulary are used by a group of speakers who are set apart from others geographically and socially, hence a dialect, just in case you want to dispute it.) And it is only grammatically proper according to that group. If we were to drop anyone from there into the middle of Oxford, England. they would all stand out, and would sound quite ignorant to the people there. (I am certain they would never use the phrase, "up with which we will not put".)

You see, this is the sort of thing that is very difficult to recognize when you are continually immersed in your own group. The problem is not the standard of that group, for that is part of what makes up community. It is the thought that one is right and the other wrong. This inappropriately places one group in a position of advantage while saying the other group is somehow lesser. It is the old "I'm right" reflex. (Search that term in my blog for more information.) And it is the root of most prejudice.

In other words, when speaking of language differences, what you mean to say is that these "others" speak differently than your cultural norm. That's doesn't make it "incorrect" or "wrong". It just makes it different. When you say that your way of doing things is "correct", you are making a judgement call. You are implying that you are right and everyone who does otherwise is wrong.

Another way to look at it is to use French as an example. With French it appears to be easy. After all, there is a board in Paris that decides which words become part of the French language. They are the Académie française, or l'Académie. Yet, even with this board, there are still at least 24 different recognized dialects. Which one is "correct"? The answer, of course, is none of them. They are each and all correct and add to the richness and diversity of both the language and the culture.

In English, though, there is no such board, and there are far more recognized dialects, including various pidgin and English-based creole versions. My friend, whether or not he realizes it, speaks "Inland Northern American English".

While the written standard of English seems to be fairly normalized, in that virtually all variants agree on the written rules, the spoken rules vary widely.

And yet, all this is actually beside the point. The real issue is judgement. I only wrote all the above to show that I am not speaking from a perspective of ignorance, but from the stance of one who loves language, diversity, and the variety of cultures. It's not that I have a doctorate or anything in this area, for I don't, but I am searching to learn, and longing to see greater unity in the world.

'Abdu'l-Baha said, "The fact that we imagine ourselves to be right and everybody else wrong is the greatest of all obstacles in the path towards unity, and unity is necessary if we would reach truth, for truth is one."

With the language issue, it is not a question of who follows which rules, or which dialect is preferred, but whether or not communication occurs. That is the purpose of language. The rules are there to serve that end.

In a social or work setting, to judge someone else based on their language is not only silly, but detrimental to both communication and unity. Einstein's use of English left a lot to be desired, but we don't think of him as ignorant. We know that he was an immigrant, and that English was not his primary language.

If someone has shown themselves to be a good, upright person, with considerable knowledge in a field, it is to our own detriment that we would judge them based on something as silly as a few of their word choices. Soda? Pop? Who cares? We know that both refer to a carbonated beverage.

It is appropriate, though, to let them know of this perception, and help them learn to adapt, while not judging them yourself.

While there may be no right or wrong way to speak, there are cultural preferences, and these can be shared in a spirit of love and respect. But to insist that one is right while all others are wrong is always detrimental to the development of all.

Whether it is clothing, food preferences, hair style, or language, they all influence our perception of others. And when we embrace the great variety of these on the planet, then the world becomes a richer and more beautiful garden in which to live.

The Penny Drops

I was just emptying my pockets when a penny hit the floor. I picked it up and looked at the unusual object. Unusual, I say, because it was a US penny, and I live in Canada. Now, I am something of a numismatist, a coin collector, except that I don't really collect them. I just appreciate them, especially the artwork that goes into making them.

But there was something about this penny that caught my eye: the design on the back.

In case you don't know, the US penny has an image of Abraham Lincoln on the front and for many years has had his memorial on the back. This was very significant, for it was a symbol of freedom from slavery for many people. From 1959 all the way through 2008. this was the symbol that adorned the back of this small, but significant, coin. Freedom from slavery.

In 2010, this symbol was changed. I remember when it changed, and it bothered me at the time, but I could not have told you why. It's not that I was particularly attached to the Lincoln Memorial, but I definitely didn't like the new symbol: a shield sporting the logo "E Pluribus Unum", or "out of many, one". And while the 13 stripes on the shield "represent the states joined in one compact union to support the Federal government, represented by the horizontal bar above", according to the US mint, I think there is a deeper, more subtle significance.

In 1959, when the civil rights movement was really getting underway, the implication of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the penny was great. By 2010, though, the whole importance of the civil rights movement had faded, and the memory of 2001 and the Twin Towers was far more in the consciousness of the US population. The "attacks on Christmas" were in the headlines. The Occupy movement was underway. Civil unrest was at a height not seen for many years. Both the government and the media were giving greater and greater importance to kindling the sense of fear in the country, having already promoted at least one war, and generating the feeling of need for another. And so a shield on the back, denoting the importance of protection while under attack, seems eerily significant now.

In 2014, the multitude of slayings of unarmed black men by white police officers has brought the entire civil rights movement back into the spotlight.

Regardless of the guilt or innocence of any one particular police officer in any of these incidents, the sheer number of them, and the subsequent dismissal of the most grievous of these from going to trial, has shown the extreme disparity inherent in the US legal system.

Racism, in other words, is still a major issue in the States and must be faced square on, and finally dealt with.

When speaking with Baha'is all across the States, I regularly hear the same tired refrain. "Sure, racism is the most challenging issue", many say, "but I'm not racist."

And that, dear Reader, is where we have failed.

Now, this is not meant in the sense of success and failure, but rather in the sense of having failed to perform a task. We have failed to continue to uphold the banner of racial equality.

Before I talk about that, though, I should mention that I also believe that we have failed to remember the words of our beloved Guardian. You see, the Guardian never said that racism was our most challenging issue. He said, and I quote, "it should be regarded as constituting the most vital and challenging issue confronting the Baha'i community."

Why do we leave out the word "vital"?

This is not just some issue that needs to be relegated to a committee and handled with a simple march or a picnic. This is not some principle that is to be included in an old list and rattled off with a dozen or so other principles, important as they all are.

This is an issue of life and death.

This is an issue that is so difficult to understand, so complex, so painful to recognize the depths of, so problematic to solve.

And this is the one issue, out of them all, in which we need to be the leaders.

In a recent meeting in Washington DC, President Obama called together the recognized leaders in this arena to discuss the issue of race and, for the first time I am aware of in many decades, there was no Baha'i present. We are no longer seen as leaders in this area.

In one community, a major city in the central States, the Baha'i Faith grew in numbers back in the 60s because the friends there stood out. Their stance on racial unity was light years ahead of everyone else, as it had been for many years. In the racially torn years of that time, the Baha'i community was significantly better than what was available outside of it. Remember, "Until the public sees in the Bahá'í Community a true pattern, in action," wrote the Guardian, "of something better than it already has, it will not respond to the Faith in large numbers."

From what I have seen, since the mid-80s, in regards to racial equality, the Baha'i community has not grown. But the rest of the culture has. We no longer stand out. We no longer offer something better for those facing the racial disparity of the greater community. We have become the norm. The rest of the community has caught up with us, and, in some ways, surpassed us. If you are looking for a community in which your race is not a matter of stigma, there are plenty of communities and groups offering that.

But there is another area in which we are in a state of crisis.

In that community in the central States, the members of the Assembly have taken the race issue off their agenda, in a sense, for they regard themselves as not being racist. And while that may be the case, it is not the issue.

They are a large enough community to have neighbourhood Feasts, which in and of itself is not a problem. But, when the Feast is held in a black neighbourhood, or at the home of an African-American, the number of those attending drops significantly. "The White folk", as my African American friends say, "just don`t show up."

If we wanted to, we could try to claim this is some sort of manifestation of racism, but I don't think it is. I think it is more a fear of the neighbourhoods that racism engenders. It is like the time we were teaching in a very dangerous neighbourhood in Winnipeg. We told the friends involved to get out of the neighbourhood a good 30 minutes before sunset. Was that racism? No. It was realism. We knew the neighbourhood changed after sunset, and were justifiably concerned. In fact, one woman did not heed the advice and ended up in hospital.

But here, in this one city, with its Feasts at various homes, if there is an issue of concern, they need to find a way around it. Whether it is a group who provides escorts, as I have seen in another city, or ensuring that the Feast occurs during the day when it is safer, as others have done, a way must be provided. Watching the numbers fall and allowing this sense of racial disunity to grow does nothing but engender this crisis that must eventually be faced. I have had a number of friends in this city, all African American, say that if it weren't for their love of Baha'u'llah, they would have left the Faith already. We know that we are our own worst enemy, that people will leave if it were only the community holding us together. Fortunately it is the love of Baha'u'llah that binds us into a single unit and elevates us to undreamt of heights.

You see, the problem is not freeing ourselves of any racist tendencies, as important as that is. It is not about us. The problem is upholding the standard of racial unity. It is raising that banner and keeping it in front of us, for all to see. It is about using that outward-looking orientation we love to talk about, and standing up for what is right in a culture that has forgotten about such things. It is about going to those homes, not because it is safe and easy, but because it is right and just, and it is where our friends and family are.

And it's not about forgetting the core activities in order to do this.

It is about doing what is needed, where it is needed, when it is needed.

And today, that means picking up that standard, once again, and going to the front lines where this issue is being fought. It is about changing that fight from battling racism to promoting race unity. It is about understanding the issues faced by many millions of people every day, acknowledging their daily reality, facing their complaints and criticisms with heroic fortitude, and surrounding them with an all-embracing love that is worthy of the name "Baha'i".

For those of us not living directly in these areas, it is about seeing the pattern of action that the Universal House of Justice has given us in regards to defending the rights of our brethren in Iran and applying that pattern to defend the rights of brethren in the States. In Iran they are persecuted for their beliefs, while in the States they suffer for the colour of their skin. In Iran there has been an outpouring of loving encouragement to stand up for justice through a flow of letters to those in positions of power. Perhaps we, through a similar coordinated effort, could do the same. After all, we know that the majority of police officers and officials want to see a better world for all. Perhaps a flow of loving words will help them stand up to the agents of hatred and respond to the variety of situations they encounter in a manner more worthy of the badge they wear and the position they hold.

For all of us, it is about going back to our own Writings, studying this issue one more time, at the very least, and confronting those challenges that have been laid before us. We have been told that racism has "attacked the whole structure of the American society", that the principle of the oneness of humanity "implies an organic change in the structure of present-day society", and that America's "peace, her prosperity, and even her standing in the international community depend to a great extent on the resolution of this issue".

Now is the time to rise up, put down that shield, and pick up that banner once again.

Oneness

Oneness. What a strange word.

What does it mean, one with that suffix of -ness? Happiness means having the quality of being happy. So presumably oneness means having the quality of being one.

What does it mean to be one?

I'm reminded of the story of the little boy who came home from his Baha'i children's class and was asked what he learned. "I learned that God is one", he said to his parents delight, "and I am five."

Oneness. The quality of being one? Again, it's a strange word, if you think about it. A statement of something being singular. Many have used the analogy of the fingers and the "oneness of our hand", but is that an accurate analogy? We have five fingers on each hand (come on, give me a break, the thumb is a finger for all intents and purposes), and yet they are essentially part of the same hand. One. Yet, at the same time, aren't they actually five? If you break one of them, the others still work, despite the very real pain. Although the underlying structure shows that they are a part of the same unifying hand, are they not actually separate at some other level?

The answer to that, of course, as with most questions in religion, is both yes and no.

To better understand this idea, I often think about history. We speak of World War 1 and World War 2 as if they were two separate events. We learn about them as two different wars in recent history. We say that the first one began and ended sometime in the teen years of the twentieth century, and the second one somehow spontaneously began in September of 1939, if you decide to start with Hitler's attacks on neighbouring countries.

But they can also be seen as part of one continual process. World War 2 finds its immediate beginnings in the Treaty of Versailles, that unjust treaty that saw the conclusion of hostilities in World War 1. In fact, we could even argue that World War 1 was a necessary outcome of the various treaties that began in the 19th century. The case could even be made that many of the subsequent wars were and are a continuation of the colonial attitudes of the various treaties that ended World War 2.

History, as I have learned, is not a series of randomly occurring separate events. It is the unfolding of the continual process of human development over a vast span of time.

Total aside, and a bit of a rant: I used to own a copy of a book, "The Timetables of History", which I am glad to have long since sold enabling my precious limited bookshelf space to accommodate far more relevant volumes. When I first picked it up, way back in the mid-80s, I loved it for the way that it showed what happened when in the long history of humanity, neatly dividing the various events into simplistic categories, such as "science", "politics", "arts", "religion", "entertainment", "sports" and so on. But even then I wondered why sports and entertainment were in two categories, for wasn't sports, as they defined it, just another form of entertainment? This book was quite good in terms of history further back than 200 years, but as it got more recent, it became more and more ridiculous. It put into context major European events like the signing of the Magna Carta in relation to, say, Da Vinci, which was quite interesting, but ignored most events outside of Europe and post-colonial North America. When it came to more recent events, it, for some absurd reason that I never quite understood, included such "world shaking" events as the Dallas Cowboys winning the Super Bowl. While it was really wonderful to have something that helped me see when different events occurred in relation to each other, this book had the unfortunate side effect of making it seem like history revolved around the European perspective, and that all these events were somehow disconnected from each other. Worse, though, from my own opinion, it made it seem like more and more astonishing things were happening today, inappropriately elevating the inconsequential to be somehow more significant, a trend we see all too often in the hyper-inflated, sensationalist news of today.

Anyways, back to the idea of "oneness".

I can speak of my childhood, adolescence and adult life as if they are separate from each other, but I am still only one person. While I continue to grow and develop, I am still me. But, of course, things change. Those priorities I had when I was a child are quite different from my priorities today. What I considered important then is often considered by me as trivial today. Those things that I value today were often completely beyond my vision earlier. Although I have changed, and continue to change, I am still me, one, singular, and indivisible. And although I appear to be separate from all those around me, like the fingers of a hand, am I? Really?

Before I look at that important question (which would have been beyond my vision when I was a child), I want to take a look at something else we often talk about when speaking about oneness: religion. We very flippantly speak of the "oneness of religion", as if all religions are somehow identical, except for those pesky social laws which some would seem to imply only confuse the issue, of course. We even cite that great statement from "One Common Faith" in which it says in so quotable a manner, "...there is but one religion. Religion is religion, as science is science." That's a direct quote. You can check it if you want. Page 33. (You're welcome.)

But what is the context of this quote? Great question. And interesting, too, for here is more of that quote: While it is true to speak of the unity of all religions, understanding of the context is vital. At the deepest level, as Bahá’u’lláh emphasizes, there is but one religion. Religion is religion, as science is science. The one discerns and articulates the values unfolding progressively through Divine revelation; the other is the instrumentality through which the human mind explores and is able to exert its influence ever more precisely over the phenomenal world. The one defines goals that serve the evolutionary process; the other assists in their attainment. Together, they constitute the dual knowledge system impelling the advance of civilization. Each is hailed by the Master as an “effulgence of the Sun of Truth”.

Got that? "Context is vital". While the oneness and unity of religion is true at the deepest level, on the surface there are some very significant differences. Different fingers; one hand. The pinkie is not the same as the thumb. And if you flip someone your index finger, the connotation is quite different from showing them another finger in its singularity.

So back to my original question: What is oneness? Well, to start, I think it is like unity, in that it doesn't necessarily mean a synonymy. I believe that when Baha'u'llah says "all men shall be regarded as one soul" He isn't saying that we are literally one soul in billions of bodies, but rather that we shall see each other as if we are one soul. We shall truly regard one another as ourselves.

In terms of religion, it means that we need to be careful when talking about it. To flippantly say that religions are one is to ignore the implications of this statement being true only at "the deepest levels". Instead, we can think it about it in terms of what Baha'u'llah says about people: regard them as one soul. We can respect all faiths, all religions, because others do. We can see them as one, in spite of, or perhaps despite of, their differences. I often say that respecting other people's faith doesn't mean that I believe it. It means that I respect your belief not because I believe it is sacred, but because you do.

Of course, this is also within a higher context. Any religion that preaches hatred goes against the very basis of religion.

What is oneness? Well, as a child recently said to me, "It is like being on the same team." The individual members each have their roles and positions, but only when they work in total harmony can the collective become a team.

So when I speak of oneness, I don't necessarily speak of everything being identical. Instead, I think of it all as serving the same purpose. And that, to me, is why I can think of all religions as being one, and God, too, as being singular.

Oranges and Olives

I don't like orange peel.

I love oranges, but really can't stand their packaging material. In fact, it would be preferable to chew a piece of aluminum foil to having a slice of the peel in my mouth.

A number of years ago I was at a party when a friend of mine came bouncing over and placed a piece of chocolate in my mouth. She was kind of funny that way, and very sweet about it. Unfortunately it happened to be a piece of chocolate covered orange peel. (I know I told a version of this story a few months ago, but it really did come up again the other day, so pardon me for repeating it here so soon.) (I think this is divine karma, as you will soon see.)

Now I've been told by some that it is very amusing to watch the various contortions my face undergoes when I have the unfortunate reality of having a piece of the peel in my mouth. That moment was no exception.

Naturally, she felt very bad about this and ran off to get me something to drink. Knowing that I was a Baha'i and never touched alcohol, she had a bit of difficulty finding me a safe to drink. It was that kind of a party. But after a few moments of eternity to me, she ran back with a cup of tea. I grabbed the cup and quickly sipped some of that steaming beverage.

It was Red Zinger, which has copious amounts of orange peel in it.

I still shudder in memory.

And yes, I'm sure my expression was amusing to all who witnessed.

Can't you just see me, with an expression of extreme gustatory repugnance, disgust, and general abhorrence, eager at the thought of getting something more palatable in my mouth? And then that moment of frozen shock when I realize that the situation has just been made worse?

In fact, there was one time I was visiting a friend at a health food store, and they had just received in a basket of fresh kumquats. Another worker there, in her red knit hat with black specks and a green foof on top that looked incredibly like a giant strawberry, was so enamoured of these "delectable little morsels" that she was bouncing around the store passing out free samples to all who cared to try them. I, of course, politely declined. "Oh, but they are so full of flavour, so fresh, and so delicious." While I didn't doubt the first two, I certainly questioned the last. "But kumquats taste nothing like oranges", both little miss strawberry-head and my friend insisted. I explained my problem with the peel, explaining that there is a rare mutation of the palette that enables those with it to taste a particular molecule found in orange peel, lemon peel, and within grapefruit millions of times stronger than normal. Hence my preference for foil to peel. It really is less painful to me. Just imagine that slight sharpness of zest that so many people love within their food, that seemingly random explosive burst of flavour that dissipates more quickly than the after-trails of fireworks, and magnify it by millions. It is sort of like the difference between that little sparkler given to kids on the 4th of July in the States, and a 50 megaton nuclear bomb that wipes out vast areas of desert, transforming the surrounding sands into sheets of glass which you can use to help read at night. We're talking a mouth full of peel-flavour so intense that my entire face feels like a 35 ton bronze bell that's just struck noon. This was not something I particularly cared to try.

But, as my friend pointed out, I had never had one. And while they are related to oranges, they are not the same.

So I relented, and with great trepidation popped one in my mouth. Whole, as they suggested.

And promptly blacked out.

Now, to be fair, I didn't really black out. I mean, I did, but I didn't. From my perspective, it's a blackout. From their perspective, it was a bit more terrifying. Evidently I scrunched my eyes shut very tightly. They could actually see how tight my eyes were scrunched. And my jaw was clenched. Really clenched. They could actually see the force of the clenching muscles. And then my hands became fists and I began to pound on the counter, seemingly in intense pain.

They were ready to call an ambulance.

While these symptoms only lasted for a few minutes, so they said, I could taste the "delectable little morsel" for the next few days. Literally.

Little miss strawberry head and my friend were both very apologetic, and agreed. I don't like orange peel.

But what does this have to do with the Faith? Well, aside from God loving laughter, what does it have to do with the Faith?

A few things, actually.

First of all, just a few days ago I was sitting at a friend's home waiting for the start of a meeting, talking with another friend who was there. (Don't worry Greg, I won't mention your name.) While we were chatting, I noticed a dish of food there. The host, an elderly Persian woman, always has lots of food for us, and encourages us to eat far more than is likely healthy. She would give my Jewish grandmother a run for her money, even though she has never called me "bubala". (I'll let you look it up.)

Now, this wasn't just a dish of food. It was a small dish with little squares of dark chocolate covered with a sprinkling of shredded coconut. For that, I needed no encouragement.

With a smile of joyous anticipation. I reached over and popped one of those beautiful squares into my mouth.

And discovered it was laced with orange peel.

You may remember up above where I said that some people say "that it is very amusing to watch the various contortions my face undergoes when I have the unfortunate reality of having a piece of the peel in my mouth". It took my friend, the anonymous Mr Bell, quite some time to stop laughing. In fact, I don't think I have ever seen him laugh so much in my life. It would have been great to see if the cause had been any less personal.

When the hostess came back in the room, she had a tray of tea, thankfully not orange peel, and placed it on the table while she went back to get the cream and sugar. I jumped up and ran to get that tray. "Sit", she called out, "I'll serve you. Don't worry." "Oh, that's ok. It's no problem", I replied. Really, it wasn't. I gave laughing boy his tea and proceeded to drink mine fairly quickly. He was a bit slower in drinking his, due to respiratory problems he developed while laughing so hard, for which I had little to no sympathy.

Then I proceeded to relate to him the whole story I outlined above.

There is, of course, another connection to the Faith, one which I like a lot more.

One day, it has been said, a man who really disliked olives was visiting Baha'u'llah. Knowing of this man's lack of appreciation for this venerated fruit, Baha'u'llah joked with him about how important a place this fruit has in the history of religion. After all, there are many references to the twin olive trees, to name just a single of these. "Haven't you read", Baha'u'llah is reported to have asked him, "of what the Prophet Muhammad said of olives?" "Of course", the man replied, to Baha'u'llah's great delight "but it's obvious He never tasted them."

There is also a pilgrims note that says 'Abdu'l-Baha encouraged us to take a bite of the rind whenever we eat an orange. And while I love all the stories of the Master, I am very grateful to the wisdom He showed in not putting this in writing anywhere else.