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[Page 1]
UTTERANCES OF BAHA'U'LLAH!
Justice is loved above all. In these days the face of Justice hath become clouded with dust; calamities and efflictions have prevailed, covenants have been violated, and promises broken. The people have become ignorant, unable to distinguish between that which will open their eyes and that which blindeth them; that which leadeth them astray and that which guideth them into the Right Path.
If in these visible days and present world, matters appear from the Realm of Decree contrary to your wishes, be ye not depressed; for Happy and Divine Days shall come and Spiritual World of Holiness shall become manifest, were ye to exchange the Garment of Mortality for the Garment of Immortality and enter the Station of the Paradise of Abha!
O people, avail yourselves of the Day of God, verily to meet Him is indeed better unto you than that upon which the sun riseth.
The beginning of Wisdom is to acknowledge that which God hath made manifest because through it order hath been firmly established for the preservation of the world. Each one of the Revealed Words is a Strong Fortress for the world. Verily thy Lord maketh to appear in every century that which He desireth, as a Wisdom on His part. We have ordained unto every land a destiny; unto every hour a fate; unto every Utterance a time; unto every Circumstance as Word! We have committed to the charge of every land the Sun of Knowledge, so that when the time cometh from it will beam a Command on the Part of God, the All-Knowing.
The Light of men is justice. Adorn the Temple of Dominion with the Embroidered Garment of Justice and Virtue, and its Head with the Diadem of the Celebration of your Lord, the Creator of Heaven and Earth.
Assist with the Hands of Justice the broken-hearted, and crush the great oppressors with the scourge of the Command of your Lord, the Powerful, the Wise.
--PATTERN--
--PHOTO--
'Abdu'l-Bahá leaving the Hotel Ansonia, New York City, during his visit to America.
| VOL. 15 | APRIL, 1924 | NO. 1 |
DURING my visit to London and Paris last year I had many talks with the materialistic philosophers of Europe. The basis of all their conclusions is that the acquisition of knowledge of phenomena is according to a fixed, invariable law—a law mathematically exact in its operation through the senses. For instance, the sees a chair; therefore there is no doubt of the chair's existence. The eye looks up into the heavens and beholds the sun; I see flowers upon this table; I smell their fragrance; I hear sounds outside, etc. This, they say, is a fixed mathematical law of perception and deduction, the operation of which admits of no doubt whatever; for in as much as the universe is subject to our sensing, the proof is self-evident that our knowledge of it must be gained through the avenues of the senses. That is to say, the materialists announce that the criterion or standard of human knowledge is sense perception. Among the Greeks and Romans the criterion of knowledge was reason; that whatever is provable and acceptable by reason must necessarily be admitted as true. A third standard or criterion is the opinion held by theologians that traditions or prophetic statement and interpretations constitute the basis of human knowing. There is still another, a fourth, criterion upheld by religionists and metaphysicians who say that the source and channel of all human penetration into the unknown is through inspiration. Briefly then, these four criterions, according to the declarations of men, are: First—Sense Perception; Second—Reason; Third—Traditions; Fourth—Inspiration.
In Europe I told the philosophers and scientists of materialism that the criterion of the senses is not reliable. For instance, consider a mirror and the images reflected in it. These images have no actual corporeal existence. Yet if you had never seen a mirror you would firmly insist and believe that they were real. The sees a mirage upon the desert as a lake of water but there is no reality in it. As we stand upon the deck of a steamer the shore appears to be moving, yet we know the land is stationary and we are moving. The earth was believed to be fixed and the sun revolving about it, but although this appears to be so, the reverse is now known to be true. A whirling torch makes a circle of fire appear before the eye, yet we realize there is but one point of light. We behold a shadow moving upon the ground, but it has no material
STAR OF THE WEST
existence, no substance. In deserts the atmospheric effects are particularly productive of illusions which deceive the eye. Once I saw a mirage in which a whole caravan appeared traveling upward into the sky. In the far north other deceptive phenomena appear and baffle human vision. Sometimes three or four suns called by scientists "mock suns" will be shining at the same time, whereas we know the great solar orb is one and that it remains fixed and single. In brief, the senses are continually deceived and we are unable to separate that which is reality from that which is not.
As to the second criterion—reason—this likewise is unreliable and not to be depended upon. This human world is an ocean of varying opinions. If reason is the perfect standard and criterion of knowledge, why are opinions at variance and why do philosophers disagree so completely with each other? This is a clear proof that human reason is not to be relied upon as an infallible criterion. For instance, great discoveries and announcements of former centuries are continually upset and discarded by the wise men of today. Mathematicians, astronomers, chemical scientists continually disprove and reject the conclusions of the ancients; nothing is fixed, nothing final; everything continually changing because human reason is progressing along new roads of investigation and arriving at new conclusions every day. In the future much that is announced and accepted as true now will be rejected and disproved. And so it will continue ad infinitum.
When we consider the third criterion—traditions—upheld by theologians as the avenue and standard of knowledge, we find this source equally unreliable and unworthy of dependence. For religious traditions are the report and record of understanding and interpretation of the Book. By what means has this understanding, this interpretation been reached? By the analysis of human reason. When we read the Book of God the faculty of comprehension by which we form conclusions is reason. Reason is mind. If we are not endowed with perfect reason, how can we comprehend the meanings of the Word of God? Therefore human reason, as already pointed out, is by its very nature finite and faulty in conclusions. It cannot surround the Reality Itself, the Infinite Word. Inasmuch as the source of traditions and interpretations is human reason, and human reason is faulty, how can we depend upon its findings for real knowledge?
The fourth criterion I have named is inspiration through which it is claimed the reality of knowledge is attainable. What is inspiration? It is the influx of the human heart. But what are satanic promptings which afflict mankind? They are the influx of the heart also. How shall we differentiate between them? The question arises, how shall we know whether we are following inspiration from God or satanic promptings of the human soul? Briefly, the point is that in the human material world of phenomena these four are the only existing criterions or avenues of knowledge, and all of them are faulty and unreliable. What then remains? How shall we attain the reality of knowledge? By the breaths and promptings of the Holy Spirit which is light and knowledge Itself. Through it the human mind is quickened and fortified into true conclusions and perfect knowledge. This is conclusive argument showing that all available human criterions are erroneous and defective, but the divine standard of knowledge is infallible. Therefore man is not justified in saying "I know because I perceive through my senses" or "I know because it is proved through my faculty of reason"; or "I know because it is according to tradition and interpretation of the holy book" or "I know because I am inspired." All human standard of judgment is faulty, finite.
TRAVEL to the Orient has always held a charm for Occidentals. The mere thought of it has a romance, an excitement. There are several reasons for this. One is that the Orient is at the farthest quarter of the globe from us and necessitates a journey of such length and cost as not yet to be frequently undertaken. A second reason is that such a journey is beset with difficulties and remoteness which remove it from the realm of the common place. But over and above these reasons there is an indescribable attraction, a lure, which may be due to the fact that the Orient is so different in its scenes, its dress, its customs; or that it is so ancient, bathed in the mysterious atmosphere of hoary ages; or that its mode of thought and of life is so diverse from our own as to bestow an elusive quality, an appeal of the unknown and unknowable.
For these and other reasons my heart was filled with joy when in the spring of 1907 I received a three-year appointment at Robert College, Constantinople, carrying with it a liberal provision for travel there and back. I cannot recall a period of my life more filled and buoyed up with the joys of anticipation, with dreams of romantic days awaiting me, than these two months preceding my departure for that city of ancient charm, Constantinople.
I had gone to New York to receive my appointment from the trustees of Robert College, and at the kind request of Mr. Howard MacNutt, I spent several days at his hospitable home in Brooklyn. Every morning when I woke up I heard above the light "toot, toot" of tugs and ferries, the more distant "boom, boom" of sea-going vessels. This sound made captivating music to my ears. My windows became magic casements opening on the sea-path that was to lead to Constantinople. Adventure, rich in charm and romance, lay before me.
My sailing, which took place from Boston, proved the first step into this world of heightened living. It was as full as the heart could desire of that celebration which love and friendship can bestow. Not only did the numerous members of my own family bid me farewell with blessings and with love such as spring only from parental ties; but college chums and many friends had come excitedly to see me off; and best of all, a little group of Boston Bahais brought a loving benediction to my departure for the Orient.
I remember especially the kindness of Miss Maria Wilson in coming to see me off, in spite of her physical disabilities; and the loving farewell of Sarah J. Farmer, that glorious soul of whom my memories are like episodes in a higher world, so intuitional, so spiritually pure, so inspiring was she. But a short year ago, she had said, looking into my eyes as she held my hand in greeting on the platform of the Peace Tent at Greenacre, whither I had drifted (no, not drifted really), to hear a talk on art by a now-forgotten sculptor, "Have you heard of the Persian Revelation? I know by your eyes you will be interested in it. Go to that lady in gray (Mrs. Lucas) and she will tell you about it."
Strange power to read a human soul! She was right. For within a half hour of the moment I thus heard from her lips for the first time a mention of this movement which she said she knew I would be interested in, sitting with Mrs. Lucas on the summer sward in the shade of an apple tree, drinking in, faster than
[Page 6]
words could convey or the mere intellect
register, the essence of this Bahai
Message and the station of Abdul Baha,
I became then and there a Bahai because
I accepted immediately both the Bahai
Message and the Center of the Covenant.
Now she was seeing me off for Europe—one of her boys, as she called me. Daisies she brought for my cabin, and into my hands she put a parcel which upon being opened afterwards disclosed a rare gift, consisting of a beautiful chain of prayer beads, strung by herself; a little bag, also made by her, which contained some pine-needles from the Lysekloster Pine under whose ample shade so many famous men had spoken to Greenacre audiences; and a steamer letter with some message for each day of the trip, among them that prayer which she loved so much and which had helped, I am sure, to mould her own saintly life, "Bestow upon me a thought which may change the world into a rose garden, and confer upon me a heart which like a glass may be illumined with the light of Thy love." Could any gift have been more precious, more expressive of Sarah J. Farmer? It is still one of my treasured possessions.
At last the warning of departure sends friends scurrying ashore, the gang plank is pulled in, and a constantly widening space of water separates me from America, the land of the free, whose shores I am not to touch upon again until three years, full of interest, of experience, of development, have passed on their magic way.
Satisfying my love of travel by a swift and extensive tour of England and northern Europe, I found myself early in September leaving Vienna on the Oriental express for Constantinople. From now on the architecture, the costumes, the people, became more and more exotic, leading by gradual transition to the strange scenes of Turkish life which make Constantinople so different from any Occidental city.
On the train was an old instructor of Robert College, Stephens, on his way back from the summer vacation. Of course destiny placed us in the same compartment where the casual conversation of fellow travelers soon brought to us the knowledge of our mutual destination.
I can remember as as if it were yesterday the thrill which I felt at sight of my first Turk, the officer who came on the train at the border to look at our passports.
"Why, he is not a murderous looking fellow at all," was my naive remark to Stephens.
He laughed. "The Turks are as a rule very kind," he said.
This was the first step in my experience of finding fact different from fiction. I shall have more to say later about the Turk. Suffice to state at this point that I became a lover of the Turkish race, honorable, brave, kindly and chivalrous, though capable, I regret to add, of many deeds of barbarism. And I have since then never ceased to defend the Turk in speech and in writing from the attacks of those who do not know him as he is.
Does it not bear out the teachings of Bahá'u'lláh, to associate with all races in order to overcome the prejudice due to ignorance, that Americans and English, without exception, who chance to live among the Turks come not only to admire them but actually to love them?
With the barrier of distance between us, we can sit at home here enscounced in traditional prejudice and hatred, and believe the Turks to be the essence of everything wicked and vile. And the Turkish people, ignorant and unable to read, relying for their information upon word of mouth, either are totally ignorant of our existence or else despise us Ghaours (infidels) as idolators because we worship the Trinity, three Gods, instead of the One Pure God.
But communion of the two peoples leads to mutual friendship and admiration.
--PHOTO--
The prejudices due to ignorance and tradition vanish. Thus does the modern steamship and railroad train, by annihilating distance, cause the peoples of the world to flow together, bringing daily nearer the brotherhood of man.
I cannot forbear at this point to mention the chagrin with which a missionary society in Washington recently heard from me, at their own invitation, in regard to the praiseworthy qualities of the Turk. At each new virtue of the Turk I sketched, and proved irrefutably by stories, incidents, and veritable details, their gloom deepened, their indignation waxed stronger. At last I thought of a way in which to close my talk so as to leave them happy and harmonious.
"Since the Turks are here," I said, "and we have got to live on the same globe with them, should we not be glad to know that they really are not a bad people?"
Yes, they agreed to that. Such a way of looking at the situation greatly relieved them and the lecture ended happily for all. These good women, so earnest and so sincerely desirous of the welfare of all humanity, really opened their hearts a little then to the Turk and expressed appreciation of the new viewpoint they had received.
Which takes me back to the days when I myself was getting those new and strange impressions which have so broadened, so influenced my life. Our train drew slowly into Stamboul, the Turkish quarter of Constantinople. Thanking fortune that I had an experienced friend to help me through the terrors of custom examination (it was in the old days of Abdul Hamid's tyranny when even Americans had had the mishap to know four prison walls for a few hours or days), I escaped safely at last from said examination, followed my porter through the howling mob of empty handed and competing porters to the street outside, across the famous Galata bridge, upon which one can count in a few moments a dozen nationalities passing, and reached in a few moments the little steamer which plies the shores of the Bosphorus and which is the chief means of communication between Robert College and the city.
Now began my initiation into the curious sights and customs of this foreign
clime. It had happened upon the month of Ramazan, the only time in the year when the Turks go out to seek evening entertainment. Through my open window I could hear until late into the night the rhythm of drums from a Turkish village across the Bosphorus—a noise which softened into music from that distance.
It was a music I can never forget, for it had an indescribable charm. The Turks use two small drums tuned to the interval of a third—and these soft notes, "tum tum—tum tum—tum tum"—throbbing across the Bosphorus stirred something primitive in me. It is a music which belongs to the night and the moonshine—undoubtedly the oldest music of the race.
Those first days were filled with new impressions. There were students of many nationalities to become acquainted with, and members of the faculty also of these different races. There were sights and scenes of Constantinople and of the little villages that lined the Bosphorus. There was the glorious view of never-ending delight to be had from the terrace of the college.
Beauty forms a part of the life of every Oriental, and the love of beauty is among these races a native, inborn quality. I have seen Turkish workmen sit immovable for long periods of time before a beautiful view; and the response of the Turkish cultured classes to the appeal of nature is still more sensitive.
American youths who come raw and uncultured from the youngest and most practical of nations were wont at first to deride this custom of lingering over lovely views; but they could not resist for long the subtle charm of the Oriental scenery. The beauty of nature about them and that Oriental atmosphere which intoxicates like a hidden perfume, in time awakened in them a new spirit of quiescence, a capacity to enjoy values other than the prosaic and practical.
How can I describe the magic hours I spent upon the college terrace strolling up and down with pleasurable companions, looking out across the Bosphorus to the neighboring shores of ancient Asia; or looking down toward Constantinople, the city of dreams.
Often on a spring evening, after the students were safely supervised to bed and the big dormitory which had resounded all day long to the clamor of many feet lay now in restful silence, some of the instructors would steal out upon the terrace whence the moonlight could be seen as golden sheen upon the waters; whence also came to our nostrils the heavy perfume of locusts and Judas trees in bloom and to our ears the golden plaintive notes of nightingales.
Tears lie near the surface at the exalted sense of beauty uplifting the heart.
Is it any wonder that the Orientals live near to God? And that the sense of things spiritual pervades their daily life? There are lovely scenes in western lands, but he has who not seen the East has not known beauty. This is not because the physical details of scenery differ greatly there, but because there is an atmosphere in the East which words fail me to describe, but which I can sense even now in recollection. It is as if the souls of the countless millions who have from the beginning of civilized time inhabited these shores, loved them, meditated here over life, over beauty, over God—it is as if these souls have left something intangible—but as distinctly structural as the shells left by the coral-builders—the shells, may we say, of their ancient thoughts. And these thoughts, not dead, of those humans long dead, create a subtle influence which pervades one, bringing a quiet joy, a happy acquiscence, a willingness to stop the moving wheels and just exist, or better to express it, just to sense existence.
But how can I communicate to those who have not felt it this indescribable and rapt experience, which is brought to one even by the physical beauty of landscape in the Orient, and how much more overpoweringly by the combination of
"THE DAY OF GOD"
natural beauty with an environment powerfully impregnated with spiritual vibrations!
If the mere beauty of the Bosphorus could hold me spell-bound, what felicitude awaited me at Acre, that Door of Hope; at Haifa; and on Mount Carmel—spots where a superb natural beauty was tenfold enhanced by an atmosphere surcharged with those powerful vibrations created by Bahá'u'lláh, by the Bab, and by the then living presence of 'Abdu'l, Bahá?
But this is a story worthy to be told another time. Suffice it to say, here, that it is evident to me why pilgrims will, as 'Abdu'l-Bahá has foretold, stream across the lands and oceans to that holy spot and bless it with their grateful benedictions. It is a different life there, a breath of fragrance from another world, an atmosphere in which one moves exalted, intoxicated, initiated into the inner significances of things!
I love to think how travel will soon be expedited and brought within the reach of every purse by the further development of aerial navigation and by the inevitable and not far-removed discovery of that hidden power Bahá'u'lláh told about.
The whole world of science is throbbing with nearness of its discovery. It is needed, for other sources of power are waning and in their scarcity causing a mad scramble that embroils nations. And when that power finally discloses itself to man, it will be what the world has not yet had, a free power—that is, a power easily derived from elements or combinations that exist in plenty.
So that in those coming days power will cost us next to nothing, and the machinery for its use will be so simple and so durable that every man will own an airship. And the larger touring airships will be so ridiculously cheap in price of transportation that travel will be universal. Some of us now living will see this day.
Praise be to Thee, O God of Names and Creator of Heaven! Praise be to Thee, for Thou hast made known unto Thy servants Thy Day, wherein the River of Life streamed forth from the finger of Thy Generosity, and the Fountain of Revelation and Unity became manifest by Thy Manifestation, to all who are in Thy earth and heaven.
O God! This is a Day, the Light of which Thou hast sanctified above the sun and its effulgence. I testify that this Day is illumined by the Light of Thy Face and by the effulgence of the dawning Lights of Thy Manifestation.
O Thou, my God, and the Beloved of my heart! With the name of this Day Thou has adorned Thy Tablet, which is known only to Thee. Thou hast called it "The Day of God." Nothing is to be seen therein but Thy Supreme Self, and naught is to be remembered save Thy sweetest Name. Wherefore, when He appeared, the foundations of nations trembled, the learned were bewildered and the wise men were confounded, save those who came near unto Thee, took from the hand of Favor the pure wine of Thy Inspiration, and drank in Thy Name, saying: "Praise be unto Thee, O Desire of the nations! Praise be to Thee, Beloved of the hearts of the yearning!"
THE word prejudice describes attitudes of mind and conduct that are disastrous in their bearing upon human happiness. Prejudices extinguish the light of truth and impose limitations of many kinds upon body, mind, and spirit. Its subjective victims dwell in a world of fancy and superstition. Its object must yield to cruel and needless restraints not of their own making. Who can estimate the millions deprived of knowledge by the veils of prejudice, or the millions more who are maddened to crime by its manifold injustice? Its sire is pride and its mother is ignorance. The offspring of such parentage is well qualified for mischief. The extreme radicalism which today sweeps over a large part of the world is one of the signs of reaction to the prejudices of centuries.
One of its subtlest dangers is that the mind swayed by prejudice is rarely aware of its condition. The prejudiced person is perhaps the last to perceive it. It so enlarges the self-consciousness as to exaggerate out of all proportion to reality the value of one's own. Even as the obstinate one is only firm from his own viewpoint, so the biased mind is only just as seen by itself. The word conveys an impression that is so mentally degraded that who will admit its dominion over himself? Yet among the peoples and nations of the earth today not one is immune from its blighting effects. To each the prejudices of the others are not only obvious, but unwarranted and absurd. To each its own prejudices, so pronounced by others, are due to superior powers of discrimination, better acquaintance with local conditions, or perhaps the inflexible law of natural selection.
To dwell upon the many forms assumed by prejudices, either personal or en masse, would require many a volume. Fortunately it has its comic as well as tragic side. So the investigator with a sense of humor will find entertainment, as well as pain. For example, it came to pass in the City of Washington, that the World's Federation of Christian Clergymen met to abolish prejudices. These noble representatives of many nations had many fine meetings, discussed many intricate problems, and flashes of reality from many brilliant men illumined their concourse. But the solution of many problems, both local and distant, seemed to baffle their skill, although fraught with the utmost sincerity. One day a noted Jew, Hon. Simon Wolf, appeared at their meeting, bearing the greetings of the Confederated Jewish Societies of America. Most earnestly and eloquently he pleaded with them, to use their Christian influence to stop the persecutions of the Jews. A Jew, he said, was passing along the street of a European city, one of the denizens of which, out of pure deviltry, shied a rock at his head. The Jew saw the missile rapidly approaching, and like unto the Artful Dodger, bowed his head to avoid the blow. The rock missed his head, but speeding on its unobstructed way, broke the window of a merchant and damaged his stock. Thereupon the enraged merchant brought a suit at law, against the Jew! And the learned magistrate before whom the case was tried awarded damages against the Jew; because, he said, had not the Jew avoided the rock, the merchant's window would not have been broken and his goods damaged!
Considering the want, shame, and misery, the outgrowth of cross purposes and separation among human elements, any relief from the savagery of prejudices should be eagerly sought by all humanitarians. As prejudices are found everywhere, no remedies can really cure
[Page 11]
unless universal in their application to
human needs. What power today is far-reaching
and strong enough to remove
hatered of classes, the foes of party, the
systems of caste, economic jealousies,
race prejudices, linguistic misunderstandings,
the superficial barriers of color, sectarian
bickerings, religious fanaticism,
and the almost uniform hatred which
even intelligent people have for those
who are supposedly ignorant. One may
journey around the world and discern
signs of unrest due to the protest against
ancient systems built upon the traditions
and prejudices of the past. All
nations will be blessed with the removal
of these dark clouds. With the brightness
of hope we may read ancient
prophecies, which point to the removal
of these dark veils and clouds in the day
in which we are living. Where human
reforms have failed, we may now turn
with full confidence to the Divine physician
to prescribe a remedy,
'Abdu'l-Bahá, with his luminous intelligence and universal spiritual insight has mentioned four ways in which prejudices may be destroyed. These are:
- 1. Travel.
- 2. Commerce.
- 3. Education
- 4. Religion.
Travel is not without its dangers and difficulties; but it is good to know that it has its delights and uses in the destruction of prejudices. It brings people into contact with other environments and thereby opens a world of new thoughts and ideals. It enables distant peoples to get acquainted and removes antagonisms against other peoples and lands. Stay-at-homes in small coumunities, remote from lines of traffic, often show strong tendencies toward bigotry and prejudice. Of course this is not always true. On the other hand, places that have many visitors, such as the great metropolitan cities, state and national capitals, summer and winter resorts, are usually broader in their understanding of human needs and freer from prejudices than places less favored. If one has never seen another community, it is an easy assumption that the world should be regulated by the customs of ones's own. But those who travel may discover realities that enrich their own abodes and bring light and happiness to others.
The increasing means of transportation nowadays facilitate travel and help the abandoment of prejudices. A clever student of human nature has recently ventured the opinion that had Mr. Ford, with his cheap automobile, appeared twenty years earlier, that perhaps the great war in Europe might have been averted. The people of many lands are now getting better acquainted through this easy method of transportation, and incidental to this are making the discovery that their prejudices have no real foundation.
But apropos of the small community, a Northern visitor was one day calling upon an aged couple who lived in a tiny village in one of the Southern states. An inquiry of the good woman, about her health and happiness, elicited the response that she was most miserable since her daughter, who had married recently, had moved to another land.
"It almost makes me mad," she declared, "to think that my daughter, who always lived with me, is now so far away!"
"How far away is she?"
The kindly visitor inquired.
"I don't know how far it is!" Hi, she inquired of her husband, "How far is it?"
Hiram, after a thoughtful pause answered:
"Well,—I reckon, in a straight line, it is about three miles!"
A distance of three miles, in a community of foot paths and ox wagons, may be well worth the reckoning from the standpoint of travel. But in one of telephones, autos, radios, aeroplanes, and other forms of rapid transit, it would
(Continued on page 18)
[Page 12]
--PHOTO--
The Tomb of the Báb and Abdu'l-Bahá on Mt. Carmel
WHETHER Bahai or non-Bahai, Haifa makes pilgrims of all who visit her. The place itself makes mystics of us all,—for it shuts out the world of materiality with its own characteristic atmosphere and one instantly feels one's self in a simple and restful cloistral calm. But it is not the characteristic calm of the monastic cloister,—it is not so much a shutting out of the world as an opening up of new vistas,—I cannot describe it except to say that its influence lacks the mustiness of ascetism, and blends the joy and naturalness of a nature-cult with the ethical seriousness and purpose of a spiritual religion.
Every thing seems to share the custody of the message—the place itself is a physical revelation. I shall never forget my first view of it from the terraces of the shrine. Mount Carmel, already casting shadows, was like a dark green curtain behind us and opposite was a gorgeous crescent of hills so glowing with color,—gold, sapphire, amethyst as the sunset colors changed,—and in between the mottled emerald of the sea, and the gray-toned house-roofs of Haifa. Almost immediately opposite, and picking up the sun's reflection like polished metal were the ramparts of Acre, transformed for a few moments from its shabby decay into a citadel of light and beauty. Most shrines concentrate the view upon themselves,—this one turns itself into a panorama of inspiring loveliness. It is a fine symbol for a faith that wishes to reconcile the supernatural with the natural, beauty and joy with morality. It is an ideal place for the reconciliation of things that have been artificially and wrongfully put asunder.
The shrine chambers of the Báb and Abdul Bahá are both impressive, but in a unique and almost modern way: richly carpeted, but with austerely undecorated walls and ceilings, and flooded with light, the ante- chambers are simply the means of taking away the melancholy and gruesomeness of death and substituting for them the thought of memory, responsibility and reverence. Through the curtained doorways, the tomb chambers brilliantly lighted create an illusion which defeats even the realization that one is in the presence of a sepulchre. Here without mysticism and supernaturalness, there is dramatically evoked that lesson of the Easter visitation of the tomb, the fine meaning of which Christianity has in such large measure forgotten,—"He is not here, He is risen." That is to say, one is strangely convinced that the death of the greatest teachers is the release of their spirit in the world, and the responsible legacy of their example bequeathed to posterity. Moral ideas find their immortality through the death of their founders.
It was a privilege to see and experience these things. But it was still more of a privilege to stand there with the Guardian of the Cause, and to feel that, accessible and inspiring as it was to all who can come and will come, there was available there for him a constant source of inspiration and vision from which to draw in the accomplishment of his heavy burdens and responsibilities. That thought of communion with ideas and ideals without the mediation of symbols seemed to me the most reassuring and novel feature. For after all the only enlightened symbol of a religious or moral principle is the figure of a personality endowed to perfection with its qualities and necessary attributes. Earnestly renewing this inheritance seemed
[Page 14]
the constant concern of this gifted personality,
and the quiet but insistent lesson
of his temperament.
Refreshingly human after this intense experience, was the relaxation of our walk and talk in the gardens. Here the evidences of love, devotion and service were as concrete and as practical and as human as inside the shrines they had been mystical and abstract and super-human. Shoghi Effendi is a master of detail as well as of principle, of executive foresight as well as of projective vision. But I have never heard details so redeemed of their natural triviality as when talking to him of the plans for the beautifying and laying out of the terraces and gardens. They were important because they all were meant to dramatize the emotion of the place and quicken the soul even through the senses. It was night in the quick twilight of the east before we had finished the details of inspecting the gardens, and then by the lantern light, the faithful gardener showed us to the austere retreat of the great Expounder of the teaching. It taught me with what purely simple and meager elements a master workman works. It is after all in himself that he finds his message and it is himself that he gives with it to the world.
The household is an industrious beehive of the great work: splendid division of labor but with all-prevading unity of heart. Never have I seen the necessary subordinations of organized service so full of a sense of dignity and essential equality as here. I thought that in the spirit of such devoted coöperation and cheerful self-subordination there was the potential solution of those great problems of class and caste which to-day so affect society. Labor is dignified through the consciousness of its place and worth to the social scheme, and no Bahai worker, however humble, seems unconscious of the dignity and meaning of the whole plan.
Then there was the visit to the Bahji, the garden spot of the faith itself and to Acre, now a triumphant prison-shell that to me gave quite the impression one gets from the burst cocoon of the butterfly. Vivid as the realization of cruelty and hardships might be, there was always the triumphant realization here that opposite on the heights of Carmel was enshrined the victory that had survived and conquered and now was irrepressible. The Bahji was truly oriental, as characteristically so as Mt. Carmel had been cosmopolitan. Here was the eastern vision, full of its mysticism, its poetry, its naive spirituality. Not only was sombreness lacking, but even seriousness seemed converted into poetry. Surely the cure for the ills of western materialism is here, waiting some more psychological moment for its spread,—for its destined mission of uniting in a common mood western and oriental minds.
There is a new light in the world: there must needs come a new day.
IN MEMORY OF SHAYKH BADRI'D-DIN*
MY object in placing this brief account before the eyes of my beloved friends who, the world over, ever yearn after things real and spiritual, is to tell them of one of the master-works of the Great Master, 'Abdu'l-Bahá,—a
*[Sent by Soheil with the request that it be published in the "Star."]
masterpiece as yet unknown to the general public, the life of Shaykh Badri'd-dín. I am conscious of my own inability to treat this subject. I am but a humble disciple of the Master: how can I, then, mention Him and His works in a fitting manner? Nevertheless, turning my expectant eyes toward His world-encompassing
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grace, and having as my aid and
assistance, the encouragement of our beloved
Shoghi Effendi, bequeathed to us
by the Master as the Guardian of the
Cause, I will endeavour to write a brief
tribute to the deplored Shaykh.
We may justly describe the late Badri'd-dín as one of the best graduates of the university of 'Abdu'l-Bahá. He was born at Gaza, Palestine, in 1877, of a family famous for its purity and piety. His father's name was Murád, and for this reason Badri'd-dín came later to be surnamed Murád Ughlú—that, the son of the Desired One.
Viewed in the light of equity and justice, the Shaykh's life presents many instructive lessons. He was a living martyr in the Cause of Bahá'u'lláh, and a brilliant star reflecting the life-giving Light of the Center of the Covenant. His biography may, in truth, be regarded as a chapter in the great history of the Cause of God. To write of his life in detail would, I confess, be a task far beyond my power and capacity. A few suggestions, some reminiscences: that is all I can at present write.
Bardi'd-dín, the son of Murád, was assuredly one of those who were most profoundly and most deeply grief-stricken at the time of the Ascension of 'Abdu'l-Bahá. After that heart-breaking event, a radical change was effected both in his appearance and in his conduct. His face was aglow with the fire of divine love; spiritual light emanated from him incessantly. Friend and foe, humble and haughty, all were witnesses to the miraculous change. We gazed on him in amazement, wonder-struck. In public, as well as in private, he continually exclaimed, "O Glory of the All-Glorious! Servant of Bahá! O Shoghi of El Abhá! May my soul and my body be a sacrifice to Ye!"
We all perceived that he was nearing the end of his physical life, yet he began to deliver the Divine Message with a superhuman power and courage. His audience stood spellbound, captivated by his eloquence, and attracted to the Cause.
He grew ill; signs of his approaching release from the physical body became evident. He was petting and caressing his children; dictating his last will to his wife, his companion through many years; bestowing his last sweet glances upon everyone, upon everything. He seemed perfectly conscious of the approaching inevitable separation, and so he lavished the last marks of his affection on everyone.
Such was his condition when I hastened to Hums to visit him at his home and to give him medical advice and care. There I had the honor of serving him for some days. I had the happiness of drinking from his spiritual chalice. I saw his spirit soaring into the celestial realms in ecstascy and love! To my heart's satisfaction, I was uplifted by his inspiring presence.
Then he decided to move to Beyrouth. Severed from everything save God, purified from all desires and cares, leaving even his wife and little ones far away in Hums, he came to this city. Nothing did he bring with him, neither money nor property. In fact, during his whole life he had never felt the desire to acquire riches. Indeed, he never had his share of them.
Thus in the city of Beyrouth he passed away, while Bahá'ís and non Bahá'ís gathered about his bedside. All the firm friends of God were silent and heart-stricken, meditating on the beauty of the life of this servant of 'Abdu'l-Bahá. The anniversary of the Ascension of Bahá'u'lláh being at hand, the soul of this, His faithful follower, took its flight to the eternal Kingdom, on the morning of May 31, 1923 ('Azamat 14, 80). Thus the son of Murád, the Desired One, attained to union with his Beloved.
(Written by Dr. Sulaymán Rar'at (son of Rághíb), of Constantinople, at Beyrouth, Syría, and translated from the Turkish by Majdi'd-dín 'Akkásh.)
DURING the war, the interrelation of governments and nations was the problem engaging every thoughtful and discerning man. Since the war, the interrelation of groups, classes and interests within the nation has become the most pressing problem. In essence both problems are one; the solution of either problem is the solution of both.
If we consider the nature of the various groups, classes and interests that make up the modern nation—economic political, social and religious—we find one element common to them all, however different they are in purpose or appearance; however antagonistic they may be in operation and influence.
This common element is the fact that the foundation of every group consists in homogeneousness of interest. A group is composed of people consciously or unconsciously selected from the surrounding mass of humanity. In the case of a Brotherhood or Order, this selectiveness is obvious—emphasized by the rite of initiation. But whether obvious or not, whether conscious or unconscious, the effect of initiation can be felt in the nature of any and every particular group.
That is, the strength, stability and permanence of a group depends upon the degree that the group is selective—to the degree that the group is composed of people animated by the same particular desire, purpose, principle or experience. For example, the power of "Labor" derives from the fact that a multitude of men and women face the same problem, and by that problem are fused into a homogeneous group.
* * *
Moreover, it is the difference between groups that supply them with their sources of power. "Labor" feeds upon the opposition of "Capital," but "Capital" likewise feeds upon the opposition of "Labor." Classes, creeds, brotherhoods and other organized or unorganized interests develop and exist by reason of the same principle.
If we analyze this situation further, and realize the true forces which operate to bring about this selectivity, this homogeneousness and this consequent opposition, we perceive that the source of power animating any and every particular group is selfishness. The selfishness of one group may be relatively greater or relatively less than the selfishness of another group, but the difference is of degree and not of kind. That is, the one underlying cause of the division of society into separate groups is the instinct of self-preservation. Men ally themselves most closely and enduringly with the men most like themselves. In the case of artists or physicians, the likeness is one of training, character and temperament; in the case of creeds, the likeness is one of tradition; in the case of industrial groups the likeness is one of problem and ambition.
* * *
And the conditions of life are such that once committed to the purposes and methods of any group, a man tends to merge himself more and more in the life of that group. Consequently, he draws farther and farther away from the purposes and methods, the experience and the influence, of the groups to which his group is antagonistic or even indifferent.
The result is that humanity is composed of a series of exclusive groups, between which a community of interest, understanding and mutual effort grows more and more difficult. As the nations and governments, under certain conditions, lose the power of contact and enter
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into open conflict, so the parties and
groups within the nation, under certain
conditions, likewise oppose each other
openly or secretly, with such weapons as
the nature of the conflict brings to hand.
Consciously or unconsciously, every mind and heart is developed and disciplined by group competition, to such an extent that all ideas and ideals of loyalty are colored by the fact of conflict and the hope of "victory." The open and secret divergence of interest between the various groups in every country is at the present moment overthrowing the edifice of mankind. International war is but the supreme expression of the instinct of competition by which, as by a disease, all people are to a certain extent affected.
* * *
In the world today, the one community which stands apart from this organized disorganization is the Bahái community. The foundation of the Bahái Cause is not exclusive but inclusive. The purpose of the Bahái Cause is not self-interest but reconciliation. The method of the Bahái Cause is not separateness but unity. The membership of the Bahái Cause is not homogeneous but heterogenous—embracing individuals from every group, class, interest, nation and religion in the world.
That which is the power of other groups, their driving force—the open or secret opposition that exists between them and other groups—is in the Bahái community entirely lacking. If one judges the Bahái Cause by the common standard, one will never understand it, never grasp the foundation upon which it rests, never realize the mystery of its significance in the present and future development of mankind.
When you enter a Bahái Assembly, consciously or unconsciously looking for homogeneousness, selectivity, you find instead that which appears weakness and insignificance. For while every other group gratifies personality in one or another aspect—ambition, tradition, training, character, temperament, privilege—the Bahái Cause, on the contrary, resists and denies these personal claims. You find people accepted who are accepted by no other group to which you have ever belonged. You find no standard of selectivity in operation, to strain out all who hold to different views, different philosophies, different traditions, than your own. Such a condition is oppressive to selfishness in all its forms. Without the stimulus of secret or open self-gratification, few people can interest themselves in any movement or cause.
* * *
A Bahái Assembly, in fact, is the world in microcosm. It includes types of character, aspects of temperament, influences of training and degrees of social and racial differences never hitherto brought together in all recorded history, and irreconcilable by any material or intellectual power. For the essential differences between the hearts of men are not outward—that one is German, the other French; that one is Christian, the other Jew—but inward, derived from personal ambition in one or other of its infinite forms and founded on self-gratification in one or other of its infinite degrees.
That which has brought these divergent beings together in unity and fellowship of Abdu'l Bahá.
Abdu'l Bahá has been, and is, the common center whither from all the horizons, at first slowly but now swiftly, these dissimilar people converge. Turning to Abdu'l Bahá, they have met and mingled in one common Cause; seeking Abdu'l Bahá, they have found the oneness of mankind.
* * *
This experience is indescribable to those who have not undergone it in one or another form, or have not yet felt even its need.
Yet as the days swiftly pass, and the world's emergency comes to the breaking point with incredible speed, the fair minded man or woman cannot escape
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the realization that unity and reconciliation
are the supreme needs of the age.
Without them, no group, no party, no
interest, no association, no religion and
no race can ever achieve even its own
purpose, but all alike will go down in
the same disaster of confusion and of
strife.
Therefore, to the extent that each can rise above self-interest, whether individual or group, the effort should be to investigate this power of unity and this spirit of reconciliation so manifest in the life and teachings of Abdu'l Bahá.
What does it mean to become a member of the Bahái Cause?
In a limited way, the answer to this question can be found in the result of the association of the separate American States in and through the Federal Government. No State lost its identity, no State sacrificed its true interest as the result of that association; rather was the gain for each and all the States immeasurable. Similarly, no true individual or group interest is sacrificed by association with other individuals or groups in and through the teachings of Abdu'l Bahá.
Abdu'l Bahá is the all-embracing spirit of unity in which both the individual and the group find his or their true alignment to the universal reality. Abdu'l Bahá raises no barrier of doctine, tradition, privilege, wealth, nationality or class to exclude any individual or portion of humanity. He makes no qualification of membership save acceptance of the fact that the greater includes the less, that humanity is the expression of all its parts in harmony and not the predominance of any one part over another.
As the limbs, organs and senses of the human body are interdependent, and perfect health consists in the harmony of all in and through the one life spirit; so the races and groups of humanity are in fact interdependent, and the well being of one group derives from the well being of all. Abdu'l Bahá inspires the mind and heart with a new and perfect realization that humanity is an organic composition or creaton; and that each group, like a limb, organ or sense of the human body, is vital to the life of the whole, while at the same time deriving its energy from the common store. Outwardly, Abdu'l Bahá reconciles the various classes, races and religions; inwardly, he reconciles also the different types and degrees of evolution which separate the hearts and divide the minds. The power of the Bahái Cause is the weakness of mankind.
"There is a power in this Cause, a mysterious power, far, far, far away from the ken of men and angels. That invisible power is the cause of all these outward activities. It moves the hearts. It rends the mountains. It administers the complicated affairs of the Cause. It inspires the friends. It dashes into a thousand pieces all the forces of opposition. It creates new spiritual worlds. This is a mystery of the Kingdom of Abha." Abdu'l Bahá.
hardly be considered foreign territory, to say the least! The world becomes relatively smaller and better known as people move about it. With the evolution of the airship and the prospect of wings, who knows but that 'ere long, man will be able to "take the wings of the morning and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth," finding the Divine Nearness in closer contact with his fellow beings.
The commercial progress of nations during the past century is also among the bright omens of the new day. People of many nations are now so well used to foreign imposts that when they are suspended
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by warfare many difficulties and
embarrassments arise. Incidental to the
exchange of goods, nations take on each
others customs and thoughts and profit
by the exchange. The hermit nations
have now all removed the barriers of
trade exclusion. The West receives the
goods of the East and to an extent
hitherto unforseen studies those ancient
civilizations with their wise sages and
spiritual values. And the nations of the
East are learning to value both the wares
and the modern scientific methods of the
West.
Great international expositions, periodically held, are the fruitage of international comity as well as trade. They flourish in times of peace and express both outwardly and inwardly the noblest ideals of mankind. It is amazing what knowledge they convey. They are impressive, though short-lived monuments to the abandonment of prejudices. The lessons they so powerfully teach are not easily effaced from the human mind.
'Abdu'l-Bahá, in one of the earliest addresses made in America, eloquently set forth the future of the commercial ties that would eventually bind East and West together and how this would be mutually helpful to both America and Persia. He expressed the hope that the virgin soil of Persia would be cultivated through American enterprise and that both nations would gain infinite blessings through unity. Coöperation between these nations will in time be developed to the highest degree and divine civilization will brighten their harmonious efforts. Oneness of faith, devotion, attainment, is the ultimate goal.
Education as a force in the elimination of prejudices is mighty and effective. Whatever broadens the horizons of men's minds makes them more mindful of the possibilities of their kind. The new education teaches the youth, from the ground up, to have respect for their fellow beings, and to value and appreciate their good qualities. The scientifically trained mind is notably free from prejudices. The training and cultural processes which have developed one group will have essentially the same effect upon others, if applied. Education will bring the happiest results to even the most primitive and deprived peoples.
The Bahá'í plan of education is a uniform curriculum for all the children of the world. When the blessings of education, now shared by comparatively few, are extended to all, a mighty transformation in human efficiency and power may be expected. Also, the teaching of universal ideals, from the beginning of life, will go far in the improvement of all human relations, now disturbed by inherited prejudices and fanciful notions. Then the genius of every world element will blossom and bear fruit. Contributions to the fine, liberal, and industrial arts will enrich the commonwealth of the world. In such an age, there are already signs of what even the supposed backward peoples may produce. Even as the waters of a stream, when damned, gather force, so racial and national elements long denied opportunities for advancement, may, under conditions more favorable, astonish the world by the prodigality of their gifts. The real civilization, brightened by universal culture and free from greed and selfishness imposed by prejudice and superstition, will be the common heritage of humanity. Thus the growth of popular education in all lands is one of the brightest signs of progress in the new cycle of light. The peace and welfare of the world are inseparably linked thereto.
But withal, the mightiest force at work to destroy prejudices is the progress of religion. At such a mention the man who is worldly wise, the casual student of history, and even the philosopher, may look skeptical. For religion, as the term is often understood, seems to aggravate rather than to remove prejudices. Are there not many religions today, each containing numerous sects viewing each other askance? And
[Page 20]
have not many of the most devastating
and terrible wars been fought in the
name of religion? But just here it becomes
necessary to look below the surface
and sound the depths. For it must
be admitted that the letter of religion,
expressed only in narrow creeds, vapid
dogmas, and lifeless organizations, does
not feed the world's famine or remove
the sadness of aching hearts. Yet the
spirit of true religion brings balm to the
sick and life to the dead. It softens the
asperities of caste, removes the pride of
place, exalts human service, teaches the
sweet lessons of humility, and unifies
the sons and daughters of men in the
joys and virtues of Paradise.
"O eyes that are weary and hearts that are sore,"
Turn ye from the bleakness of earth to the fire of divine love! From the frailities of the creatures to the strength of the Creator! This is that Might that never fails!
Again it came to pass, that "The arch-Angel Michael struggled with Satan for the body of Moses." A terific struggle it was throughout sacred historical records. For the "body of Moses" symbolizes the Jews, and there is life in that great body as it turns to God. Michael and His angels are victorious. Have you considered in a similar way how the body of the Christ, trampelled in the early days under the heels of Roman despotism, after a time wrested that self-same scepter from the hands of tyranny?
This day brings to man a supreme bounty from worlds unseen. The Manifestation, Bahá'u'lláh, has simplified and purified religion. All are emanations from the Divine Presence. All creeds are dissolved into one. "The creed of God is love and union." The Word that creates unity has spoken. All prejudices are removed. All discord vanishes. All wounds are healed.
But whatever the assurance, let it not be thought that Satan yields so much without a struggle! Today he struggles for the body of Bahá'u'lláh, as of yore for the letters that make up the body of the Word. The Center of the Covenant in his day, with his gladsome, spiritual life, with his radiant, majestic, and kindly nature, was the defense against differences, the Center of light. Now are provided for this purpose the Guardian of the Cause and the Universal Spiritual Assembly. Under Guidance and Divinely confirmed, they will never be shaken.
The lessons of the divine Educator, given with all gentleness and sweetness, convince the mind and illumine the heart. They convey to one's own being the dangers that arise from discord. Prejudices are of the earth and unfit the heart as the dwelling place of the Lord of Light. He confers upon man the power of self-analysis, so that he may ever struggle for the conquest of self. At His bidding, the people of light in this day struggle not only to free themselves, but the universal heart of humanity from the rust of prejudices and the fires of hate. Whatever the difficulties of the moment, one can ever see steady gains over a period of years, as the larger consciousness, which is divine, reveals itself to human hearts. No one can defeat the Will of God. None can prevent the tide of destiny. From the exalted Heights of Sanctity, the Spirit of Abhá, addressing the spirit of man says:
'O Son of Man: The temple of being is My Tabernacle. Cleanse it of all things, that therein I may abide and thereon be enthroned."
--PATTERN--
