26.
CONQUISTADORES
BY FLORA HOTTES
CENTURIES ago, the Spanish explorers
and conquistadores came to the shores of
South America, taking the land in the name
of God and their kings. In the wake of the
flag came the cross. Ancient civilizations
passed into history, and a different faith and
a foreign manner of life were absorbed by,
or imposed upon, the people of the new continent.
Years have gone by, and an old era
is again passing. It can now too clearly be
seen what the feudalistic conceptions of
conqueror and conquered, the served and the
servile, the unequal position of men and
women, international suspicion and interracial
injustice, religious fanaticism and
superstition, have done and are doing to the
populations who have lived so long in their
shadow. Once again are coming conquistadores—for
God and for the world, instead of
for king and country. To the Bahá’ís has
been issued a summons to a spiritual conquest,
to go forth and teach the universal
principles enunciated by Baha’u’llah almost
a century ago. Those who answer the call
are a cross-section of all ages and professions,
all classes and racial hues. From the
America of the North to the America of the
South they come: not seeking to impose a
new culture or religion, but attempting to
comprehend the old, and perceiving a new
life stirring amid its ruins. Filled with the
joy and assurance of a renascent awareness
of God and of His Plan of renewal for a
moribund society, they feel impelled to share
it with others. They believe that all religion
is fundamentally one, and that humanity
has from the beginning of time been climbing
"the world’s great altar-stairs, which
slope through darkness up to God.” Their
fatherland is the planet, and their
brotherhood includes the whole human family.
They “consort with the peoples of all religions
with joy and fragrance,” and it is their
blessing "to be kind and serve with love.”
Leaving the established courses of their daily
lives, they transplant themselves and their
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work to unfamiliar environments, sometimes
far from their native land and customs.
And upon a new and strange soil, the life
and love of God sustain them, and that
love and that life become a leaven—sometimes
permeating swiftly, sometimes slowly
—to transform themselves and the receptive
individuals about them, into the nucleus of
a functioning community of human beings
from various races, nationalities, classes and
cultures, united by a supreme bond
transcending the personal—the bond of a unified
humanity raised to the recognition of its
divine destiny of infinite progress.
How many and mysterious, and at the time apparently unconnected, are the steps by which one approaches the possibility of becoming a Bahá’í pioneer. The intense desire: the tremulous hopes; the unbelieving joy at last when the actuality is at hand! . . . Is this really you who are flying over an enormous plain veiled by low-hanging clouds? Glimpses of the land far below reveal it to be for the most part brown and bare, with few streams, almost no trees, scant vegetation, and poor houses of adobe and thatch. The earth appears to be a vast flatness, which is, in fact, one of the highest plateaus of the world, 13,000 feet high, and you are flying at an altitude of 16,000 feet or more. You are in Bolivia, in the heart of South America: Bolivia, shut in behind its towering mountains, its lofty altiplano; landlocked, without a seaport; the rarified air of its high cities not welcoming the stranger; and with a reputation of being somewhat "cerrado” (closed-in) mentally and spiritually as well as by material nature. But all this is more of a magnet than a draw-back to a Bahá’í pioneer. Would it be pioneering if there were no frontiers to be crossed, no barriers of difficulties to be surmounted?
The first months pass with the swiftness of lightning. There are the new and fascinating costumes, customs, and scenes of a strange land: Indian women with many and voluminous skirts of contrasting vivid colors, brilliantly striped mantas on their backs, from the folds of which peep tiny bright-eyed and dirty-faced babies; the Indian fiesta dances in glittering spangled costumes; the national holidays celebrated in patriotic fervor with long, colorful parades; the unique beauty of this sky-land—La Paz in its deep, bowl-like valley, surrounded by a barren and wind-hewn circle of hills, higher mountains touched with a haze of green in the rainy season, and behind all, to the east, the majestic range of the Cordillera Real with its crown of eternal snow. Near the point of the rising sun there soars, over 21,000 feet into the blue sky, the pure height of Illimani (“Condor of Silver”), the Andean peak, which is like a guardian over the City of Peace. The newer sections of La Paz are modern, and much building is going on all the time, in spite of the difficulties of the altitude, insufficient facilities of transportation, and the terrific cost of materials. New roads are being constructed; thin pipe lines for water are being laid in the more remote streets, although there are areas on the hills, especially in the Indian quarters, which are still without a regular water supply. In the Centro, the streets slope steeply, and the outlander must ascend very deliberately, or he will find himself completely without breath or strength. Even the squat little colectivos pause for a moment in the middle of the last long hill to the Plaza Murillo (a queer suspended sensation for the newcomer who feels it for the first time), as if gathering energy and resolution for the goal ahead! Up on the western rim of the altiplano, not far from the air-field, about a thousand feet above the valley, stands a great figure of the Christ, His hand extended in blessing over the community far beneath. To stand at His feet on a dark night, and look down at the city, is an experience never to be forgotten. With its many lights—red, green, blue, yellow and white—La Paz lies like a treasure of sparkling jewels in a precious encircling bowl; and when one turns his eyes upward to the sky where scintillate the Southern Cross, and Canopus, and some of our dear northern constellations turned upside down, one seems to see another casket of jewels there, or another heaven of stars below!
Yes, it is a beautiful and unusual land,
and you soon love it. Here are dire needs,
not only the economic ones of transportation
and communication; but also the need to
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develop that greatest asset of every country
—its citizenship. The Indians are very
picturesque, but as one sees deeper, one realizes
the imperative necessity of more and more
education, of hygienic training, of
hospitalization, of the practical application of the
rights of man, regardless of race or class.
Education is definitely on the way; there
is an increasing number of public schools,
trade schools, night schools. People who
have lived here five or even less years say
that the progress has been almost unbelievable.
But it is more than a training of the
mind that is necessary. The school readers
contain chapters about the native dignity of
the “pobre indio,” and the obligation to
elevate his state. But so far, there has been
little application of the Bahá’í ideal of
universal education, concerned with what it
means to be truly human in the relationships
between men, a teaching freed from
sentimentality and condescension, and based
upon the fundamental rights of individuals
at various stages of evolution. On the
altiplano, on the shores of Lake Titicaca, a
consecrated Canadian missionary has labored
for years to make just and cooperative living
a reality, and he has succeeded little by little.
There are some schools, once under mission
boards, which have through more than
a quarter century, established roots in the
hearts and minds of graduates who have
become influential citizens. These in turn
often dedicate themselves to progressive and
honest public service in a governmental
environment where there has always been and
still is (here as elsewhere under the old
order) far too much of politics and too little
of policy.
In the last few years a new racial element has entered in large numbers into Bolivia. Thousands of Jewish refugees, mostly German, have been accorded a place within its borders, and there has been a period of difficult adjustment, with strain on both sides, and much prejudice. As time passes, and the more cultured and socially useful members of a universally persecuted people have made definite contributions to the material and mental advancement of their artificially adopted country, mutual attitudes are almost imperceptibly changing for the better. Naturally, as in every human problem, there is plus and minus on each side; and there must be great breadth of understanding and a willingness to appreciate what is fine and constructive wherever it is to be found, and a realization that here have come together, through chance and a distant force, two diametrically opposite trends of life and thought. For instance. there is Emmy de S. . . . who was a well-known musician of Vienna. She is now considered the leading pianist of La Paz, appearing frequently as a radio performer and in public concerts. She gives music lessons all day on a rented upright piano in the one poor room in which she and her husband live. One reaches it by puffing up a steep, cobbled walk and crossing a more or less unsavory patio, but it has one beauty which is a constant inspiration to the soul of this artist. Through a vast window one gains a sublime view of Illimani. “We have suffered,” she says, with a trace of bitterness in her tone. Then she pauses thoughtfully. "But perhaps we need to suffer more to understand.” A Bahá’í who mingles freely and without prejudice among all strata of the population, can do his bit to soften rancours, explain differences, and quote examples of harmonious and cooperative endeavor on the part of both races.
Then there are the American, English and
Swiss colonies, some of whose members have
lived here for years and have been long
established in business. These persons are
usually kindly disposed toward the
inhabitants of the country, and are more or less
ready to help in educational and material
progress. They are conservative and
somewhat intra-mural in their activities,
keeping rather closely to national affiliations,
but the war is broadening this situation in
some measure. Last year the annual Red
Cross kermess was a triumphant success in
being inter-allied instead of being simply
English-American. Most of the Americans
in La Paz belong to the Embassy or the
Legation, forming a social set among
themselves, in general mingling little with the
Bolivians, not much interested in becoming
proficient in Spanish, and too often
exemplifying only an external attitude
of diplomacy and international friendliness.
These English-speaking groups have charm and poise,
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but are not easily stirred by religion or the
profound changes which must take place in
these South American countries. A fine
Bolivian patriot counseled the Bahá’í pioneer:
"If you want to help Bolivia and the United
States, and increase cooperation and
understanding between them, just go about being
kind and friendly, learning the language,
the customs and life of the land, and trying
to penetrate the backgrounds and reasons for
things.” This of course was good Bahá’í
advice and was naturally followed, as it is the
human approach, quite innocent of the least
implication of imperialism, however benevolent.
The earliest days in the pioneer’s new homeland are spent in getting acquainted with people. First there is the devoted little group of Bahá’ís who were inspired and introduced to the Faith by the first Bahá’í pioneer in Bolivia—Eleanor Adler. There is not the initial moment of strangeness with them: they are as one’s own family, though from the other side of the equator. Each one of them has his or her distinct individuality and God-given capacity, and much or little foundation in the Cause; but they are all one in their love for it and their desire that it shall grow in numbers and impulsive power in their country, which needs it so much. “It will be slow in Bolivia,” they say; and having said so, they open their hearts and their homes to any and all who may be interested to learn what Bahá’í means. We hold weekly meetings for our better organization and study, and little gatherings in between to attract others in a friendly way. In the United States there would be public meetings and newspaper publicity, but here it is wiser to begin quietly and gradually. In Bolivia the pleasantest relations are established over the teacups, and so it is that we begin offering the spiritual and physical feast to our new friends. The larger reunions are held in the hospitable home of Yvonne Cuellar, the first Bolivian Bahá’í, whose generous spirit, contagious enthusiasm and joyous inspiration attract people to the Cause and give them a realization of its power. “It is not my house,” she often says. "It belongs to Bahá’u’lláh.” Among the Anglo—Saxons for the most part we find polite indifference to the Faith, even though there may be agreeable personal contacts. We have some unexpected and unforced introductions to missionaries of various Protestant sects. Frequently the door opens to a presentation of the Message, and sometimes it is received with clear-eyed and open-minded interest, sometimes with respect but with apparent mental reservations, and only once with defiant and hysterical antagonism. The latter case, although it seemed very unfortunate at the time, was to have little-guessed and far-going reverberations which in the end helped the Cause forward in more ways than one. Gradually we meet more and more Bolivians, and we find them uniformly polite and charming, receiving graciously what we tell them of the Bahá’í Faith. “Que lindo! Es la pura verdad!” is their often-heard comment. An authoress who loves the poems of Tagore, recognizes a similar beauty in the words of Bahá’u’lláh, and tells us that a famous Bolivian writer should translate the “Hidden Words.” It is almost a year and a half later that we encounter him by an informal and happy chance, visit his classes at the University, and give him his first glimpse of the great Prophet-Poet-Statesman Who is Bahá’u’lláh, Whose inspired poesy in the “Hidden Words” he says he will put into beautiful Spanish, for he is a master of literature in that musical tongue. As the weeks have gone by, we have begun to discover that enthusiasm in a listener may not mean more than a pleasant reaction at one moment of time, a gentle way of making the speaker happy! To come to regular meetings, to study this great Faith—no, that is not the intention—at least not yet. It gradually dawns upon us that the frank and direct attitudes of our northern continent are not the custom here. One learns to be patient, to be self—contained, and to try to understand; and when some of these southern souls become Bahá’ís, it is surprising what changes begin to appear!
There comes a time when to outward
appearances the Cause is standing still; the
persons who manifested such interest become
occupied with other things; one who was
very near has had to meet a personal test
and it obscures the universal message for her.
The Bahá’í group itself has its inner provings,
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as has every group all over the world.
To weld into a real spiritual unity people of
strong and opposite temperaments, often of
different racial and cultural backgrounds, is
an achievement which only true devotion
to a practical, living Faith can ensure; and
this sublimation and fidelity to a divine
principle of unity in the Word of Bahá’u’lláh
is the basis for the world order of the
future. Little by little this comes through
loving consultation, and through an ever-deepening
study of the Teachings, which
always is followed by wider human understanding
and more steadfast loyalties. Of a
sudden one perceives that the old stresses
and strains have vanished, and there is a
new and satisfying unity whose formative
stages will never have to be struggled
through again. We pass through our depths
of discouragement, which fortunately never
afflict all the believers at the same moment!
There are hours of tears and supplication for
wisdom and strength—hours sometimes solitary
and sometimes shared—when the faulty
human spirit feels its personal inadequacy
to reflect the Light whose Name it bears.
But out of each of these valleys of darkness
one climbs to a sunlit height. Never does
an earnest petition for help ascend to
Baha’u’llah, without His answer, even though
that reply may come in a form or manner
least expected. At some later moment of
illumination we become cognizant of the
fact that a prayer has been answered. With
a throb of wonder we feel the nearness of
the invisible world of love and power, and
we learn to work in the conviction that we
never labor in our own unaided strength.
The prayer for assistance changes too. Once
we begged that we might be eloquent, or
reinforced with heavenly confirmation, or
crowned with knowledge. But now we pray
that the Work may go on in spite of any
or all of us, that God may reveal the souls
ripe for it, and that one may always be
ready: "strong and fully prepared to render
instant, exact, and complete obedience,”
according to his capacity, be it great or
small. In every group there is both strength
and weakness; in every individual there is
the same combination of qualities; but both
can be useful, for all kinds of conditions
are to be met, souls in all stages of evolution
to be attracted. And we all grow from
weakness to strength, and from lesser
to greater. ”The good deeds of the faithful
are the sins of the near ones,” once said
‘Abdu’l-Bahá with profound insight. Whatever
may be our qualifications, every one
of them can be enriched by love. When we
are versed in that language which needs no
fluent tongue, we begin to have an inkling
of what it might be to “live the life” so
that others might perceive it. Poets and
wise men have alike set forth in symbolic
terms the significance of that ideal of living:
"Out of me, nameless and unknown, the
vibrations of deathless music.” “He who
chooses to turn his heart toward God is
like unto a reed, and the manner of its
likeness is this: when the interior of a reed
is empty and free from all matter, it will
produce beautiful melodies; . . . sound and
melodies do not come from the reed, but
from the flute-player who bloweth upon it.”
- “Love took up the harp of life,
- Smote on all the chords with might;
- Smote the chord of self, which trembling
- Passed in music out of sight.”
The wonderful prayers and promises of
“America’s Spiritual Mission” become a
source of daily spiritual renewal.
“The Promulgation of Universal Peace,” containing
those marvelous addresses of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
during His journey through America, is
perused again, and the utter simplicity and
profundity of His words flower in the mind
and heart. One day there is a national
holiday observance in the Cathedral. It is a
service bright with flags and banners,
invested with the pomp and dignity of the
diplomatic and military corps, solemn with
historical symbolism. (The torch of freedom
which Murillo lighted burns beside the high
altar.) But the outward show dims before
the eyes; the voices of the Mass fade into
inaudibility; and borne on the music of the
organ rises a voiceless prayer: "O God!
Raise up great souls to serve Bolivia and
enable her to serve the world.” The prayer
is released. A deep tranquility comes upon
the spirit. For many months that moment of
petition drops out of conscious remembrance.
In the next year the fruitful opportunity
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presents itself to teach English to two classes
of bright young Bolivians, mostly boys, in
the American Institute of La Paz. The older
class, especially, consists of some exceptionally
alert and intelligent minds, interested in
such questions as world federation, the
possible union of religions, the necessity for
adjusting social and racial differences, etc.,
subjects which they themselves propose for
discussion. The study of English becomes a
vehicle for the expression of vital ideas, and
it is ideas which will be longer remembered
than verb forms. Some of the boys discovered
that those ideas were Bahá’í, for one
evening a few of them lingered behind the
others and asked, “Miss, what is your religion?”
And they were the ones who came
after the school year was completed, saying,
“Thank you for our English class. We
learned much more than English this year,
about the humanity and all, and we will
never forget it....In some classes the teacher
just comes and teaches and goes away again.
But it was different in English; we always
got something to remember.” And a mature
Bolivian leader, trained in the American
Institute years before, commented, “These
are great new ideas in Bolivia. They are
not new in your country, but they are
here, and it is good that the young people
hear them. . . . I think that some day I shall
be a Bahá’í. It seems that all the beautiful
ideas in the world are in the Bahá’í Faith.”
Was this the Visible beginning of an answer
to the silent prayer in the Cathedral? Who
shall say? Such knowledge is with God.
We have made a little book of prayer, in which are entered the names of those who need the help of God (as who, indeed, does not?). There are those who seek healing, and those who have departed this life and its bodily illness; some whose material condition should be improved, and others whose desire and its fulfillment lie deeper; a long list of the souls who have heard the Message and have recognized its Light at least in some measure; and lastly a very short one of the few who at first set themselves against it. Months pass, with their prayerful hours, and poco a poco and one by one, the names of those for whom prayers have been answered, are checked off. The ones for healing move the most rapidly, the ones for guidance most slowly. We have forgotten to look at those which evidenced disharmony, although those names have from the beginning been held in loving thought with God, and in the practice of His presence. Finally, a year has passed. In the nineteenth month of our South American sojourn, when we are preparing to leave La Paz for our annual vacation from the altitude, we look at that leaf of our note-book again. We see, as it were with unveiled eyes, that the meaning of that page has changed. Of the four names of those people or groups which had displayed opposition to the Cause of Baha’u’lla’h, none any longer evidence such antagonism. How great is the goodness and assistance of God! This change does not mean that they have become Bahá’ís, or are even definitely turning toward the Faith. But it signifies that mental and spiritual barriers have begun to come down. Sometimes it is sickness, or disappointment, or suffering, or loss, that gentles mind and heart. One cannot always know, but the results are apparent. Some persons have surreptitiously read some of the Bahá’í books; one book was “lost” for months in the home of a teacher, and unearthed during housecleaning at the end of the year. Other copies have been openly asked for, read, and freely discussed—if not with entire agreement, still with marked respect. One muses over the much-fingered pages of the little note-book, and from them is able to trace glimmerings of light that lead back and back to tiny circumstances in the past—practically un-noted at the time, but now full of significance as seen in the clarity of the present. The whole can never be seen, for the long future is not humanly ours.
Do you remember (you reflect) that day
when someone who listened to the Message
grew almost hysterical, crying out that the
Bahá’ís were spoiling the work of those who
were trying so hard to live the life of Christ;
that the “whole town” was talking about
this “new religion”? And soon the story
began to circulate that these Bahá’ís forced
their ideas upon others. When the opportunity
seemed imminent for membership in
an Anglo-American Book Club, the Bahá’í
pioneer was denied entrance. In the school
in which she was asked to teach, there was
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at first a subterranean opposition, not so
much seen as felt, and not imagined. There
were contacts with teachers—some immediately
friendly, others reserved or distant.
One great soul, living the self-sacrificial life
of a true missionary, was always a haven of
companionship and understanding. She became
ill, and heard the Bahá’í healing
prayers, which she thought were powerful
and beautiful. Her mother died in North
America. She bore the loss quietly and
heroically, devoting herself with fervor to
her work. She accepted our sympathy and
a prayer-book simply and freely, and when
we once told her, "You are a real Bahá’í in
your spirit of loving, selfless service,” she
responded, “Well, maybe I am a Bahá’í;
who knows?” One day, long after, she
confided to a friend, “I had heard that the
Bahá’ís forced their Faith upon others, but
I have never found it to be so; and I love
so much the ones whom I know that I am
going to learn all I can about what they
believe.” There was another dear little
profesora from a far-away land, and she loved
the Cause too, although she had warned us
from the beginning that any time spent on
her would be wasted; "You see, I am
spiritually dead.” (But how alive and growing
she really is!) She met with us for a while,
and her questions were very intelligent and
searching ones. There were times when she
seemed very close to the Cause, and others
when we saw little of her. At the end of
the school year the event of a wonderful trip
shared by herself, an elderly couple who
were retiring from the missionary education
field and the Bahá’í pioneer. Long days
were spent enjoying great natural and
historical beauty, and not much was said about
the Bahá’í Message as such. But sometimes
at night the young teacher had difficulty in
going to sleep. On such occasions the
Evening Prayer was said, and she sank to
slumber with almost miraculous swiftness. She
loved the Morning Prayer too, when the sun
first began to shine in at the window. Before
the travel ways separated, she said
unexpectedly, “I have seen and felt such
love during this week that I know the Bahá’í
Faith is more than words or a mere philosophy:
it is a life, and it makes people happy.
When we are apart, I am going to use those
prayers, and if I should get my scholarship
to the United States, I shall always keep in
touch with the’Bahá’ís.”
We recall the day we had tea at the home of missionary friends of our travelling companions. The talk naturally turned to religious topics, and so to the “foolish” prophetic hope of William Miller in 1843. "Foolish?” The Báb had come in fulfillment of that hope, although none in the western world knew of it at the time. We spoke of Him and of Him Whom God made manifest. The Scotch minister listened attentively, his sweet Irish wife with illumined face. He asked about our "doctrines” concerning sin and the origin of man. He felt that they were not orthodox enough, but he eagerly took the few pamphlets we had with us, and said he would read more if he could receive some books, The old Institute teacher expressed himself kindly: “We have known that our friend holds this belief, but she has never forced it upon us, or upon the boys of the internado.” A few days later, after some travel difficulties had been satisfactorily arranged, the elderly pair came to our door. “Well, I guess I belong to your religion,” smiled the old gentleman, half in jest. "I am sure everything will come out all right, as it always does. . . . I believe there is just one God, although folks call Him by different names. I used to be very narrow, but I have become much broader, and for a long time I have not preached religion; I have just loved the boys, and they knew it. . . . Once my Board wanted to call me back because I did not preach enough, but now they would be glad to have me stay.”
The last scene in this series of mental
motion pictures is linked with the first one.
(A year or more has passed in actual time,
while the images have flashed before the
mind’s eye in a few seconds.) It is the
library of a minister, and we have come
to get an English Bible for a dear old
American lady who has flown down to Bolivia
and could not carry her bulky Book. We
talk about the literature on the shelves.
He fingers certain volumes.
"I have always
been interested in Utopias,” he muses. ”Then
you should know about the Bahá’í Faith,
which is a practical plan for Utopia that
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will be realized,” we suggest. “Yes, I know
of it,” he replies. “I read a book whose title
was ‘Light’.” (Of course it wasn’t; but at
least he felt the spirit of it!) "It seemed
to me that it was just the thoughts of Christ
expressed without giving credit to Him.”
Follows a brief explanation of Progressive
Revelation, the Oneness of the Manifestations.
Yes, he believes in the former; yes,
he thinks we should investigate Truth
independently, and he would like to read more
of the direct Word of the Prophet, so that
he may make up his own mind about the
matter. If we will bring him more books,
he will read. (And as he has asked, we shall:
we do not force out Faith upon people!)
And so the line of light moves on—not
rapidly in high, cool La Paz, but it moves.
And God is the Power that moves it through
the minds and hearts of men.
Wherever goes a Bahá’í—in city buses; on camions over rough altiplano roads; on long and otherwise tiresome train trips; in avions flying through the rarest air; afoot on stony trails apparently far from an audience—goes also the Message and the spiritual vibrations of the Greatest Name. To sala and kitchen, to classroom and hospital, comes the inspiration, the tranquility and comfort of this universal and penetrating Truth. Wherever there is a soul aware of deep human needs, the voice of Bahá’u’lláh can speak with authority.
We skim across the moonlit surface of Lake Titicaca. The surrounding hills are black and silent, the water is like silk, and we speed along with a cold wind—filling the sail. We are silent under the spell of the ethereal loveliness of the night. We are on our way to the Isla del Sol, sacred island of the Incas. We shall meet General and Senora L. . . . They have both given devoted service to their country, all too little appreciated amid the constant political changes; and the General has been a noteworthy influence for progress among the Indians on the Isla. The next three days are full of serene beauty and content, and before we leave we have the privilege of speaking a little to our hosts about the Cause. It is a noble work, they say, and they are glad to receive the “Nueva Era” and the "Sabiduria” which they will read during the long quiet island days. Months afterward in La Paz, the Senora comes to visit us. Entirely of her own accord she mentions the books. "We have read them over and over—and not only read them, but saturated ourselves with these sublime ideas. The books are always on our table, easily accessible, and we read them together so that we can talk them over.” Another time she explains, "Of course at my age I could not take on a new religion, but I am entirely in accord with this wonderful Teaching.” The General quickly interposes, “But it is not a new religion; it is all the old faiths renewed.”
Each of the little group of believers has
his or her friends and acquaintances with
whom the Message is shared, and gently and
lovingly imparted more and more as the
inner doors open wider. ”It has given you
such peace; you were formerly disturbed and
anxious about world affairs, but now you
have hope and confidence,” one of them is
told by a Bolivian friend of high social
position and great influence for good. "I
know it is the truth,” she continues. “It is
all coming to pass as Bahá’u’lláh has
prophesied.” Another of the Bahá’ís is quiet and
sweet and the embodiment of tact. She
rarely says many words about the Cause,
but the people about her know that it is
very beautiful. Dora, the old Indian servant,
has heard some of the prayers and they
touch her heart. She asks to have them
typed in large letters, so that young Felix
can read them to her, as she herself is
illiterate. One happy evening she and Felix
come over and we talk to them, explaining
very simply the Bahá’í principles of
universal brotherhood; their faces shine, and
almost two hours pass like so many minutes.
The aunt of our Bahá’í has heard and read
of the Faith of Bahá’u’lláh, and some of
His Words bring tears to her eyes. "I could
be a Bahá’í,” she says tentatively, and then
concludes, “But I am afraid I have not the
courage.” In the family of one of the Bahá’í
group is a member who was previously much
opposed to the "intrusion” of this “strange
religion” into his home. Within a year he
has had two severe accidents, each of which
might easily have been fatal. "It seems as
if I were being saved for something,” he
admits, and attends his first Bahá’í meeting,
[Page 908]
which he is surprised to find himself enjoying!
Sometimes through an apparent criticism one can be guided to an avenue for unexpected usefulness, and be set upon a new road which leads to many blessings. A young man of the University, hearing of the Bahá’í Faith, said that it all sounded very well, but it was probably just some more beautiful words, and Bolivia had had so many words and few deeds. So we Bahá’ís talked over this reported conversation, and put our heads together, to see what we might do which would be a sign of love made visible. Most projects were far too ambitious for our small group and financially modest means, but finally, very near at home, we encountered just what we were looking for. In the home of one of our members there works occasionally a good woman who has six children, the youngest of whom had been afflicted from birth with a club foot. The family could do nothing to remedy the condition, for the father’s salary in a government office is pitifully small. All of the older children go to school, and they are all clean, decent, and hardworking. Our dear Bahá’í had long intended to have the child operated on, but now we as a group decided to assume the responsibility and the expense, which when shared would not be too onerous. Now, six months after the operation and treatment, Jorgito has a new foot, and although it is still in a cast and a brace, he is beginning to walk a little, and hoping that he will some day play football! The parents have been entirely with us at every step, understanding that we were helping them through the medium of universal Bahá’í love. They took a Spanish prayer book at the time of the operation, and knew that we were praying with them and for them during the first painful days and nights. They have met with us several times to talk about the Faith, and seemed happy to hear about it. The father, who is very intelligent, has read two of the books in Spanish. “These words have great comfort for us poor working people,” he said. And there it stands at present. But since the Bahá’ís made this concerted effort, there has been a distinct advance in all their work.
There have been some very happy anniversary
meetings to which have come, in
addition to our usual friends, more and more
of the well—known public figures of the Bolivian
capital: the city librarian, a charming
and cultured gentleman who is inspired to
write a beautiful poem because of the
spiritual harmony which he feels at the
gathering; a famous author, who asks us to invite
him always in the future; an author-periodista,
who says that such assemblages are
far too few in our city, and who gives us
space in his paper, declaring that he soon
hopes to have time to give this world
movement the study it deserves. There are
officers from the army who wish to see Bolivia
take a place of leadership in South America,
but a peaceful leadership, championing the
new ideals of world solidarity. Sometimes
we hold another type of "reunion,” such as
the one which introduced the young Chilean
who was campaigning in various countries
in the much needed service of social hygiene.
We were fired with enthusiasm for the
courage she displayed in pioneering in this
difficult work, and imagined at first that
she might be another Ṭáhirih! That was
a far too sanguine hope, as we soon
recognized; but we trusted that our effort had
not been entirely in vain. Nor had it. One
of the guests, a brilliant and youthful
lawyer of La Paz, gave public expression to her
appreciation of the friendliness and
inclusiveness of the Bahá’í Teaching. Another,
a very socially-minded and highly intelligent
refugee doctor, asserted that, although
she was an extremely practical person who
had little time for "religion,” she was glad
to give credit to good will where she saw it.
. . . A few months have gone by. And the
doctora now finds herself immersed in some
social work of her own among the women
of the city prison. She asks of the Bahá’ís
a cooperation which they gladly proffer; and
through some of their influential connections,
a few of whom are acquainted with
the Cause, a new impulse is given to a
long-dormant interest in the alleviation of unjust
conditions among the poor, native prisoners.
Dr. T . . . marvels: “In this week I have
met more fine people than I have in four
years; and when I think back upon it, it
all began that day at the Bahá’í meeting!”
[Page 909]
Yes, one never knows when one goes forth
to sow, where the seeds will fall, or which
ones will grow and bear fruit. Two of our
newest Bahá’ís have become members after
attending comparatively few meetings,
while some other friends have come to the
gatherings for over a year, and still are
indecisive and to all appearances unawakened
to the significance of Bahá’u’lláh’s Mission
in the world. “I believe I am already a
Bahá’í,” shyly said lovely Mercedes, “but I
think I should know more before I join
you.” Later she took the Cause with her
when she moved with her husband to another
part of Bolivia. Bright and delightful
Alicia came to La Paz on a Peruvian
scholarship for the study of art. She was sent to
the Bahá’ís with a letter of introduction
from the radiant Directora of the famous
Jardine de la Infancia in Lima, whose motto
is “Todo por amor; nada por fuerza”
(Everything by love; nothing by force).
Our new friendship was the result of a very
brief but glowing Bahá’í contact of the year
before with the founder of that school in
which Alicia taught painting to the preschool
children. Alicia liked the Bahá’ís of
La Paz, who returned the liking with
affection, and after a few months she became the
first Peruvian Bahá’í—in Bolivia! ”I have
always had these ideas,” she testifies, "and
if I had not found them in this great
universal Faith, I am afraid I would
have turned to Communism. And I have
many young friends in Peru who think as
I do.”
The largest per cent of the population of
Bolivia is Indian, and these people are almost
impossible to reach and touch unless one
knows the difficult Aymara or Quechua
tongues. However, God works in a mysterious
way. At the school where we taught,
Aida was a secretary in the office, and she
wanted private English lessons, although she
speaks our language quite well. For that
reason we were able to converse more or
less fluently during our hours of study.
One day she asks us if we are Protestants as
she is. When we explain what we are, she
listens with rapt attention. “To think that
this was in Bolivia, and I did not know it.”
She takes home the “Nueva Era” and some of
the prayers. Another day When she is quiet
and downcast, we read selections from the
prayers in English. She is so comforted that
she wishes to buy the booklet, which of
course we give her as a gift. “These are
prayers that speak to the spirit. I was so sad
when I came, but as I heard those words it
all grew light in my heart,” she says thankfully.
After some weeks she tells us that
her father, who is a native preacher to the
Aymaras, is reading the "Nueva Era” and
wants to translate some of the prayers
into the Indian dialect. . . . These hours of
conversation took place in March. In May
a letter from the Guardian arrives in far-off
La Paz. He has written: “it would be excellent
if some of the native Indians could
be taught, so that from the very outset the
true brotherhood that exists in the Bahá’í
Faith could be demonstrated, and these
ancient peoples be given the boon of
accepting the world’s newest Revelation.”
Suddenly our minds revert to an evening in
March, when Aida first spoke of her father’s
interest in the Cause of God. Can it be?
It can be, and is! . . . It was during those
same March days that our Guardian wrote
the above counsel to us half-way around the
world! And now this pastor always comes
to our public Bahá’í reunions. We also go
occasionally to visit his little church high
up on a hill in the Indian section of the
city. The members of his flock are clean,
attentive, and devoted, and so happy and
friendly. He and his great-spirited wife
have given thirty consecrated years to the
teaching of these Aymara Indians, and here
and everywhere on the altiplano he is known
and loved and trusted. His is a soul
detached from the temptation of personal
material gain, dedicated to his spiritual mission
to the indigenous peoples. The cousin of
Aida’s father is the President of Bolivia
himself, and once when political advancement
was offered to the little minister, he put it
aside, saying firmly, "Mi fe es mas grande
que mi ambicion.” He confesses that he has
been saddened by the misunderstandings,
rivalry and intolerance among some of the
Protestant sects, and he is attracted by the
universality and unity of the Bahá’í ideal.
At our celebration in commemoration of the
Birthday of Bahá’u’lláh, we request him to
read in Spanish, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s great Prayer
[Page 910]
for All Nations, which he does, moving
deeply all who hear him. Afterwards he
tells us wonderingly, “Do you know, when
I read those prayers, they are so beautiful
that I want to cry.”
What are all these many words about? They are only inadequate frames for pictures—very simple pictures from Bolivia, and probably precious and glowing only to those who have seen them grow upon the canvas of life. Hundreds of Bahá’í narratives might be full of the confident, triumphant tread of victorious spiritual conquistadores. Our Bolivian bit is very quiet, very small, moving slowly in our lofty height. All of us together have laid only the first miles of a Road of the Loving Heart —but love is the greatest creative power in the world. Someday here and everywhere on this continent and all over the planet, the peaceful armies of Baha’u’llah will have achieved their conquest of unity. A new order, a new civilization, and a new humanity will be the realization of what today we only dream of and strive for in wholeness of faith.
Hundreds of faces on the street—sad or glad; stern and forbidding, or kind and welcoming; some very humble, but shining with native intelligence; others servile and unawakened; a few fixed in the concentration of thought; many patient and stolid and with gaze turned inward. We think of them as they may be in the full sunrise of that Day—they, or their children and children’s children; all with eyes uplifted to the light, radiant with a more than earthly joy. No longer will they be bowed beneath loads too heavy—be they physical or spiritual burdens—but they will move forward steadily, with free step and erect head, in a world wherein there shall be at last a place of justice and opportunity for the least as well as the greatest.
"Oh, Tú Dios Incomparable! Oh, Tú, Señor del Reino! Estas almas son Tú ejercito celestial. Ayudadlas, y hacedlas victoriosas con las huestes del Concurse Supremo; para que cada uno de ellas sea como un regimiento y conquiste esos paises por medio del Amor a Dios y la ilurninacion de las ensenanzas divinas. Oh, Dios! Se Tú su sosten y su ayuda, y en el desierto, la montana, el valle, las selvas, las pampas y los mares, se Tú su confidente, para que ellos proclamen por medio del Poder del Reino y el aliento del Espiritu Santo. Ciertamente, Tú eres El Fuerte, El Poderoso, El Omnipotente, y Tú cres El Que oye, y El Que ve.”
