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[Page 1]

World Order

Fall

1967

A Turning Point in History

by DAVID M. EARL

The Institutionalization of Religion

by JALIL MAHMOUDI

[Page 2]

World Order

A BAHÁ’Í MAGAZINE

VOLUME 2 NUMBER 1 • PUBLISHED QUARTERLY

WORLD ORDER is intended to stimulate, inspire and serve thinking people in their search to find relationships between contemporary life and contemporary religious teachings and philosophy.

Editorial Board:

DR. FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH

DR. HOWARD GAREY

GLENFORD MITCHELL

Art Director:

HENRY MARGULIES

Yearly subscriptions: $3.50 per year in U.S., its territories and possessions; foreign subscriptions $4.00 per year. Address any correspondence or checks for subscriptions to World Order, 112 Linden Ave., Wilmette, Illinois 60091. Single copies available $1.00 each

Copyright © 1967, National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, World Rights Reserved. Printed in U.S.A.

Manuscripts and suggestions for articles and subjects to be treated editorially will be welcomed by the editors. All will be acknowledged.

CONTENTS

An Editorial .......................... 3

A Turning Point in History

by DAVID M. EARL .................. 4

California Coast Redwoods

by R. ST BARBE BAKER .............. 11

A Poem

by WILLIAM STAFFORD ............ 15

The Institutionalization of Religion

by JALIL MAHMOUDI ............... 16

Is There Anything New in the Bahá’í Faith

by EMERIC SALA .................... 27

Will We Land

by VINSON JAMIR ................... 32

The Non-Hero in History

by NOSRATOLLAH RASSEKH ........ 35

Harmony of Science and Religion

by M. K. YNTEMA ................... 38

A Poem

by WILLIAM STAFFORD ............. 44

A Review

by HOWARD GAREY ................ 45

A Poem

by MARGARET DANNER ........... 51

The views expressed herein are those of the authors, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá‘ís of the United States, nor of the Editorial Board.

[Page 3]

Throughout the world this year Bahá’ís are celebrating an important anniversary.

One hundred years ago Bahá’u’lláh, then a prisoner of the Ottoman government, wrote a series of epistles to the crowned heads of Europe and Asia, the leading ecclesiastics in Christendom and Islam, and through them addressed mankind. The message was powerful and clear.

Lay not aside the fear of God, O Kings of the earth and beware that ye transgress not the bounds which the Almighty hath fixed. . . . Be vigilant, that ye may not do injustice to any one, be it to the extent of a grain of mustard seed. Tread ye the path of justice, for this verily is the straight path. Compose your differences, and reduce your armaments, that the burden of your expenditures may be lightened, and that your minds and hearts may be tranquilized.

To a world rapidly entering an age of conflict and universal crisis, unresolved to this day, Bahá’u’lláh offered an inexhaustible source of guidance. His divinely inspired teachings can be summed up in three words: unity, justice, peace.

Not one at the rulers responded to Bahá’u’lláh’s call. Mankind, deaf and blind, has continued on its suicidal course and is threatened with nuclear annihilation.

Today as a century ago, these “healing . . . saving” truths proclaimed by Bahá’u’lláh give hope and show the way:

Bend your minds and wills to the education of the peoples and kindreds of the earth, that haply. . . all mankind may become the upholders of one order, and the inhabitants of one city. . . . Ye dwell in one world and have been created through the operation of one Will. . . . Be ye as the fingers of one hand, the members of one body. . . . That one indeed is a man who today dedicateth himself to the service of the entire human race.

[Page 4]

A TURNING[Page 5] POINT IN HISTORY

“The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.” —Bahá’u’lláh

Dr. David M. Earl, who is now Associate Professor of History at Eastern Michigan University, in Ypsilanti, has had a richly varied experience since receiving his master’s degree at Wayne State in 1950: travel and teaching in Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Labrador, and Germany, among other places. He has been an active Bahá’í wherever he has gone, serving as chairman of the National Spiritual Assemblies of Northeast Asia and of Korea. Nineteen sixty-four saw the publication by the University of Washington Press of his EMPEROR AND NATION IN JAPAN; he is also the author of the article in the current edition of the ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA entitled “Bushido”. He took his doctorate in history at Columbia University in 1957.

THE AGE OF CRISIS

We are living in an age of chronic crisis. It is not merely a moral breakdown in personal relationships; country after country exhibits confusion over its national goals; while at the international level the attempt to create a peaceful world society is constantly frustrated. This situation is characteristic not only of the current decade, or even of the 20th century alone. A fundamental malaise appears to have been affecting human society for at least two or three centuries.

And yet, disturbed though it is, this age may have positive as well as negative aspects. History shows us a continuous evolution of smaller into larger social units; is it not reasonable to feel that we are destined eventually to develop one world civilization? This thought gives us a clue to the uneasiness the world senses: if we consider that the human race, its unification now impending, is so to speak on the brink of the age of maturity, then the two or three painful centuries through which we are passing may represent the unavoidable maladjustments of the period of adolescence.

Unfortunately, so far more attention has been paid to the symptoms of the world’s problems than to the underlying evolutionary process. The vision of an idealist such as Woodrow Wilson in propounding a League of Nations was limited by the necessity of building on national sovereignty, and the eventual failure of the League to prevent the outbreak of World War II was essentially a failure of national governments to place international responsibility above immediate national interest.

In contrast, at the time when Wilson was attempting to use the prestige of his political office to terminate the first World War, hardly more than twenty years had elapsed since the passing from this world of Bahá’u’lláh, who represented an [Page 6] entirely different approach, one proceeding from the basic premise of the organic unity of mankind. Bahá’u’lláh, a Persian nobleman, had spent more than half His life suffering bitter persecution, imprisonment and exile because of His claim to be the Bearer of a new divine message. In essence, the teaching He had brought was one of harmony and reconciliation: that all the great religions of the world are divine in origin, that all share the aim of preparing mankind for the coming of the Most Great Peace, and that for this purpose the unity of the entire human race must be recognized without qualification. The principles of reduction of armaments and collective responsibility for the peace of the world had been explicitly stated by Bahá’u’lláh among the prerequisites for the establishment of international order.

The first Western man of letters to make an accurate statement on Bahá’u’lláh and His teachings, and the only one to meet Him personally, was Professor Edward G. Browne, an Arabic and Persian scholar at Cambridge University. In April, 1890, he spent five days as a guest at Bahá’u’lláh’s residence near Akka, Palestine, and in his account, published the same year, quoted Bahá’u’lláh uttering the following sentiments:

That all nations should become one in faith and all men as brothers; . . . that diversity of religion should cease, and differences of race be annulled—what harm is there in this? . . . These strifes and this bloodshed and discord must cease, and all men be as one kindred and one family . . . Let not a man glory in this, that he loves his country; let him rather glory in this, that he loves his kind.

THE PROCLAMATION TO THE KINGS

Bahá’u’lláh had of course been receiving recognition as a spiritual leader of profound insight for several decades before the notice just mentioned, and the religious fanaticism of the Muslim clergy had made Him the victim of banishment arranged through the collusion of the Persian and Turkish governments.

However, the main phase of Bahá’u’lláh’s public proclamation of His message to the world came during, not before, His exile. In September, 1867, He began to pen and dictate a prodigious number of inspirational and devotional writings, which included, as an aspect of the utmost significance, the proclamation of His mission to the leaders of East and West.

The first major writing of this period, was the Surih of Kings (Suriy-i-Muluk). Though not dispatched directly to any of the persons mentioned in it, the Surih of Kings included sections addressed collectively to all monarchs of East and West, as well as specifically to the Sultan of Turkey, the kings of Christendom as a group, and many officials and leaders of various ranks. The Tablet constantly emphasizes justice as the hallmark of the virtuous ruler, and stresses that this must have international as well as domestic applications. The kings are adjured to reduce their armaments, to terminate their dissensions, to lighten the burden of taxation, and to adjust their affairs in accordance with the will of God.

In addition to the Surih of Kings, before the end of 1870, Bahá’u’lláh had composed six lengthy epistles which were actually sent to the Shah of Persia, the Pope, and the rulers of the major countries of Europe, calling to them to heed the Word of God and to avail themselves of the opportunities being offered them for the establishment of world peace and the Kingdom of God on earth. Two of these letters were written at Adrianople, the others being composed during the [Page 7] two-year period of confinement in the military barracks at Akka. Two letters (one from Adrianople and one from Akka) went to Napoleon III, one each to Queen Victoria and Czar Alexander II.

Bahá’u’lláh and His family were released from military confinement in October, 1870, but He was never set free and remained under house arrest for the balance of His life. The final chapter in the great process of proclaiming His message to the world came at this point, with the revealing of His “Most Holy Book,” the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, about 1873. While the major theme of this book consists of the laws and ordinances of the new day, it also, like the Surih of Kings, contains several sections addressed to kings and leaders collectively and individually.

FATES OF THOSE ADDRESSED BY BAHÁ’U’LLÁH

Of the six rulers who received personal messages from Bahá’u’lláh, only one, Queen Victoria, was privileged to complete a reign in prosperity and honor. It is also worthy of note that of all those addressed, the Queen was the only one reported to have made a sympathetic response.

Sultan Abdu’l-Aziz of Turkey, directly responsible for three successive banishments of Bahá’u’lláh and the first to be admonished, was Caliph of Sunni Islam and absolute sovereign of the vast Ottoman Empire. With England and France as its allies, Turkey had only recently celebrated a victory over Russia in the Crimean War. But in 1876, Abdu’l-Aziz was deposed and assassinated, and in 1877, a new war with Russia broke out which was to trigger the complete collapse of Turkish power in the Balkans. The Ottoman Empire came to an end in 1922, and the Caliphate itself was abolished soon thereafter.

In Persia, the administration of Nasiri’d-Din Shah was characterized by increasing irrationality, financial disorganization and chaos. Internal unrest culminated in Nasiri’d-Din’s assassination in 1896, and the Qajar Dynasty of which he was a member was overthrown in 1925.

Pope Pius IX is known for his opposition to the new liberal thought which was rising in Europe during his lifetime and for his policy of identifying the interests of the Catholic Church with those of conservative governments. His temporal sovereignty over a large area of Central Italy had long depended on the military support of French troops assigned to his defense by Napoleon III. Bahá’u’lláh’s message to the Pope coincided with the political and military confusion attendant on the unification of Italy, a process which was strongly opposed by the Pope. But when Napoleon III withdrew his troops, Pope Pius IX was forced to surrender to Victor Emmanuel; he lost his temporal power and became the “Prisoner of the Vatican” for the remaining eight years of his life.

Czar Alexander II, because of the courtesies extended by his father’s Minister in Tihran at the time of Bahá’u’lláh’s imprisonment and exile to Baghdad (1852-53), was given a special invitation by Bahá’u’lláh to “arise . . . and summon the nations unto God.” Although deserving credit for having carried out the emancipation of the serfs and a number of other vital reforms, he gradually turned reactionary, and eventually provoked such opposition by his oppressive, heavy-handed rule that his assassination resulted in 1881. In 1917 a revolution swept away the Russian monarchy and extinguished the Romanov dynasty.

And what of Napoleon III, the proudest monarch of Europe in his day, who was twice called on by Bahá’u’lláh to match his words with deeds? Crafty, vain and ambitious, Louis Napoleon in 1852 had subverted the Second Republic which he had sworn to defend as its president. In his campaign to become Emperor, he had promised France peace and glory, yet hardly had he achieved the imperial [Page 8] title before he plunged into preparation for war on Russia. His ostensible excuse was to rescue Turkey, allegedly an innocent victim of Russian aggression. Bahá’u’lláh alluded to these pretensions in His first letter, in which Napoleon III was offered an opportunity of becoming what he claimed to be: a world leader inspired by the ideals of peace, order and justice; one who might have laid the foundation for permanent world peace. His rejection of this communication elicited from Bahá’u’lláh a second message far different in tone:

We testify that that which wakened thee was not their cry (of the suffering Turks), but the promptings of thine own passions, for We tested thee, and found thee wanting . . . Hadst thou been sincere in thy words, thou wouldst not have cast behind thy back the Book of God. . . . For what thou hast done, thy kingdom shall be thrown into confusion, and thine empire shall pass from thine hands, as a punishment for that which thou has wrought.

It was only a short time afterward that Napoleon III short-sightedly blundered into a war with Prussia which not only produced a catastrophic defeat for his country but even found the Emperor himself a prisoner of the Germans. Revolution swept France, the Second Empire fell, and Napoleon III died in exile.

ASPECTS OF CHANGE IN THE LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY

When we consider the almost unlimited power and authority wielded at the time by most of the world’s rulers, and the extent to which they could personally lead and dominate their nations, it appears natural that several of them received personal communications from Bahá’u’lláh. Any one of them, if he had so chosen, might have achieved glory had he raised the standard of world peace. But instead, they ignored or rejected the opportunity; and the attitude of the ecclesiastical authorities, both Christian and Muslim, was as recalcitrant as that of the rulers. Little wonder, then, that Bahá’u’lláh eventually made the momentous statement: “From two ranks amongst men power hath been seized: kings and ecclesiastics.”

Politically, this period was marked by the coming into office of new governments in all the major countries of Europe and many of the smaller ones, allowing for some degree of popular representation. Closely related to this tendency were such actions as the extension of the franchise to the working class in Great Britain (1867), one of the points for which Queen Victoria was praised in her letter from Bahá’u’lláh. Policymaking was moving into the hands of the bourgeoisie and the industrialists; social standards also were increasingly dominated by the middle class.

Free, public, secular education was becoming available to the masses for the first time in history. In many countries, the general illiteracy which had been accepted as normal since the dawn of time was reduced to a negligible percentage by the end of the 19th century.

A lack of enthusiasm for religion, related to such factors as the rise of education, the new role of science and technology, and the restrictive policies of the major churches, was spreading across the Christian countries. In some cases this resulted in the separation of church and state, and even, in those countries which retained an established church, the religious hierarchy was soon playing an increasingly insignificant part in the making of policy.

A basic belief in science as the key to the universe already characterized nineteenth century Europe, but this took a sharp new turn in the closing decades of the century when the theory of evolution burst upon man’s consciousness—one of the landmarks in the intellectual history of the human race, which was to revolutionize thinking in religion as well as in science. Even more noticeably than other thought-currents of the time, this one factor operated to “seize power” from [Page 9] the “ecclesiastics.” First publicized by Charles Darwin in 1859, the theory of evolution was taken up, defined, and applied in myriad ways by a swelling wave of philosophers and scientists during the ensuing decades. Herbert Spencer made the application to social problems; Thomas Huxley boldly attacked religion and rejected the principles of Christianity itself. In the name of science, theology was repudiated and even morality came close to being discarded.

These are only a few of the evidences of the radical alteration in the thought-climate of Europe coinciding with and following the raising of Bahá’u’lláh’s call to the rulers, an alteration which makes it possible to consider this period a clearly-marked turning-point—and one which, due to Europe’s dominant position in the world at the time, inevitably affected not only Europe, but the world as a whole. It was thus that the closing decades of the nineteenth century played their special role in a general age of crisis, minimizing the power of kings and ecclesiastics, bringing the adolescence of the human race almost to a close, and preparing it for its imminent coming of age.

BAHÁ’U’LLÁH AND THE FUTURE OF MANKIND

The messages of Bahá’u’lláh to the kings, as an integral part of a new divine Revelation, were not merely directed to the monarchs themselves, but in a wider sense represented a general call to all nations and peoples. The proclamation of Bahá’u’lláh’s rank and station, the relationship between His message and the will of God, and the essential principles of that new world order whose dawn would mark the coming of age of the human race—such were the momentous topics developed by Bahá’u’lláh in these majestic epistles. To illustrate these themes, let us briefly examine the contents of the Tablets to Pope Pius IX, to Nasiri’d-Din Shah, and to Queen Victoria, each of which has its own particular character and bears its own unique message.

The Tablet to the Pope contains a clear declaration to the Vicar of Christ that the Lord he worships has come again and expects his obedience:

O Pope! Rend the veils asunder. He Who is the Lord of Lords is come. . . . He, verily, hath again come down from Heaven even as He came down from it the first time. Beware that thou dispute not with Him. . . . Beware lest any name debar thee from God, the Creator of earth and heaven. Leave thou the world behind thee, and turn towards thy Lord, through Whom the whole earth hath been illumined.

Bahá’u’lláh then proceeds to advise the Pope on his proper duties and attitudes, instructing him to sell his “embellished ornaments,” and “expend them in the path of God,” to abandon the temporal kingdom which the Pope still possessed, and to devote himself to praising God and exhorting the kings to justice.

Following other admonitions, some of which are addressed to the monks and the people, the Tablet closes with a call to all Christians:

O concourse of Christians . . . This is the Day of God; turn ye unto Him. . . . Ye call upon Me, and are heedless of My Revelation. . . . O people of the Gospel! They who were not in the Kingdom have now entered it, whilst We behold you, in this day, tarrying at the gate. Rend the veils asunder by the power of your Lord . . . and enter, then, in My name My Kingdom. . . . Verily, He (Jesus) said: “Come ye after Me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.” In this day, however, We say: “Come ye after Me, that We may make you to become quickeners of mankind.”

The Tablet to the Shah, the lengthiest of Bahá’u’lláh’s epistles to any sovereign, is distinguished by its poetic style and exquisite imagery. In it, the call of God to His Manifestation, and the nature of the mystical relationship that must ensue, are movingly described:

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O king! I was but a man like others, asleep upon My couch, when lo, the breezes of the All-Glorious were wafted over Me, and taught Me the knowledge of all that hath been. This thing is not from Me, but from One who is Almighty and All-Knowing. And He bade Me lift up My voice between earth and heaven, and for this there befell Me what hath caused the tears of every man of understanding to flow. . . . This is but a leaf which the winds of the will of thy Lord, the Almighty, the All-Praised, have stirred. Can it be still when the tempestuous winds are blowing? Nay, by Him who is the Lord of all Names and Attributes! They move it as they list.

Furthermore, because of the baseless charges and calumnies which the Muslim ecclesiastics were making against His teachings and His followers, Bahá’u’lláh laid special emphasis on the fact that He had condemned all forms of violence, and challenged the Shah to bring Him face to face with His accusers, so that He might “produce proofs and testimonies in the presence of His Majesty the Shah,” which would establish once and for all the truth of His Cause. It goes without saying that this challenge was never accepted.

The Tablet to Queen Victoria is noteworthy for the manner in which it deals with modern problems of administration and international relations, including specific directions for the enforcement of world peace through the principle of collective security.

The Queen is first praised for having outlawed slavery in the British Empire, and is also commended for having shared the responsibilities of government with the representatives of the people. The elected representatives in their turn, not only in Britain but in every land, are cautioned by Bahá’u’lláh to concern themselves only with that which will benefit all mankind.

Directing His attention then to the rulers of the earth collectively, Bahá’u’lláh in this Tablet reverts to one of the themes of the Surih of Kings, chiding the monarchs for their heavy expenditures and the gross injustice of the consequent tax burden, calling on them to realize that without the support of the people a ruler can not even subsist. Following this, in a few pregnant sentences He commands an end to international tensions, prescribes the limitation of armaments, and sanctions collective action for the enforcement of peace:

O rulers of the earth! Be reconciled among yourselves, that ye may need no more armaments save in a measure to safeguard your territories and dominions. . . . Be united, O kings of the earth, for thereby will the tempest of discord be stilled amongst you, and your peoples find rest. . . . Should any one among you take up arms against another, rise ye all against him, for this is naught but manifest justice.

* * * * *

Such are a few principles drawn from three of the great messages which Bahá’u’lláh began directing to the rulers in September, 1867. His Revelation, fuller than mortal mind can yet grasp, was contained in these and in hundreds of other writings—explanations of spiritual truths, warnings, prophecies, social laws—all in all, a blueprint for the future world civilization which is to replace the age of crisis as maturity gradually grows from adolescence.

This is the Day [Bahá’u’lláh proclaims] in which God’s most excellent favors have been poured out upon men, the Day in which His most mighty grace hath been infused into all created things. It is incumbent upon all the peoples of the world to reconcile their differences, and, with perfect unity and peace, abide beneath the shadow of the Tree of His care and loving-kindness. . . . Soon will the present-day order be rolled up, and a new one spread out in its stead. Verily, thy Lord speaketh the truth, and is the Knower of things unseen.

[Page 11]

CALIFORNIA COAST REDWOODS

By R. St Barbe Baker

Richard St Barbe Baker has been a prime mover in the world of conservation for nearly half a century. He has made such important contributions to that cause as his successful fight against the encroaching sands of the Sahara and the establishment of the Men of the Trees in Kenya, where, due to his untiring efforts, six million trees have been planted. He is now engaged in the defense of the Redwoods of California against a projected six-lane highway. He is the author of Sahara Conquest.

Along the coast of the blue Pacific, from Monterey, California, through the Golden Gate to the Oregon border, stretches the Realm of the REDWOODS. Here are the tallest and most ancient living trees of unrivaled beauty. Through this woodland region, there is an atmosphere of calm that at times seems to be other-earthly.

In these woods the tallest trees rise in columns of perfect symmetry and form; so tall are they that one must look up more than three hundred feet; as someone said—“three looks high”.

As a forester, I had long studied descriptions of this remarkable species— Sequoia sempervirens—always living. My old professor of botany at Cambridge, Sir Albert Seward, had led me to the study of petrified logs deposited in sediment in the remote past before man lived upon the earth. The evidence of these fossils points to the existence in California of a forest made up of trees which no longer live outside the tropics, but the Redwood has survived, and although it was once widely distributed throughout the western hemisphere, it is now restricted to the Californian coast.

The most spectacular of the fossil Redwoods is the petrified forest of Sonoma County, fifteen miles east of Santa Rosa, where giant logs have been buried in the rock and turned to stone. This, then, is the dominating tree of the coastal forest belt which gives a distinctive character to the region because of its size and density of growth. In contrast to its height it has rather delicate-looking foliage, its narrow leaves are mostly one-half to three-quarters of an inch long and are borne on the ultimate branchlets in such a way as to form flat sprays. These leaves live over three to five winters, when, after their work is done, the sprays fall to the ground covering the forest floor with a soft bedding. Here you will find little cones, oval in shape, reddish brown in color, from three-eighths to one and one-eighth inches long and three-eighths to seven-eighths of an inch thick. They are borne in clusters at the end of the branchlets mostly in the top of the tree and mature in the autumn. One of the most striking things about the tree is its soft, thick bark which is from three to twelve inches through.

[Page 12] The cones of the Big Tree, Sequoia gigantea, are larger, about the size of pullets’ eggs. Both trees are Redwoods in the sense that the heart-wood is red in each, but the term “Redwood” belongs by long usage to the coast tree. Both are Big Trees in the sense that they outclass others in size and height, but the term “Big Tree” has always applied to that of the Sierra Nevada. Both trees have thick bark, but that of the Coast Redwood is softer, more spongy and not so thick as that of its cousin. The Coast Redwood vies with all others in importance because of the place that it has held in the development and settlement of California, for in the past its wood has been abundant and cheap. It is highly useful for all sorts of building and industrial purposes and in the arts.

A Coastal Redwood that has lived five hundred years is still in its early youth; one that has rounded out a thousand summers and winters is only in full maturity. How old the oldest trees may be is not yet certain. The age of a tree can only be determined when it is felled, cross-sectioned and its annual rings are counted. So we know only the age of those trees which have been felled in the course of lumbering or have been blown over by wind storms. There can easily be counted with help of a lens.

The Coast Redwood is a lover of the sea mists, and dominates the rainswept flats in the coast valley and the seaward and landward slopes of the coast range. They grow in their native state only here and nowhere else in the world, although in New Zealand in the Whakarewarewa State Forest there is a grove, set aside in 1947, as a memorial to men of the New Zealand Forest Service who lost their lives in the first and second World Wars.

Those were planted in 1901. The tallest trees are already 180 feet in height. Although only covering an area of 12 acres these introduced Coast Redwoods will be of great interest to visitors from California where they are indigenous.

Through the realm of the Redwoods there runs the Redwood Highway, often winding among the trunks of these beautiful trees, between whose sunlit boles you glimpse the Pacific. Further inland however, so dense is the growth of Redwood branches, that the sunlight never penetrates the sombre aisles below, but more often the light filters through the tree-tops, sending down slanting shafts of radiance as the sun shines on the coast mists that pervade the space between earth and the crowns of the trees. The bark of the tree changes in shade from moment to moment; sometimes it is of a rich purplish hue, which turns to a lighter rose color. At other moments it is pink or pinkish grey. There seems to be a rose-colored glow which lingers among the tree trunks.

Sequoia sempervirens needs a rainfall of twenty-five inches to exist, but it does not grow to great height unless it can enjoy double that, or even more. The fogs from the sea are needed to check evaporation from the leaves and lower the temperature of the atmosphere of the tree tops.

At Eureka I stayed at the inn of that name. It is situated about thirty miles north of Scotia, a center of the lumbering industry, and I found it one of the most comfortable inns in the region, kept by a real host and hostess. All round are numerous places of interest, but the Redwoods to the north will lure you on. From Eureka I once again hit the trail for the north, and about eight miles beyond Orick I came to the Humboldt Pioneer Memorial Grove, also called the Russ Grove, of one hundred and sixty acres. This is a beautiful area, preserved through the efforts of the Redwood League. Some years ago this grove, as well as the Roberts tract near by, belonged to the Prairie Creek Park project, and eventually was made a State Park.

Travelling northwards along the Redwood Highway the forests become more [Page 13] and more impressive and spectacular, until at thirty-five miles north of Orick is the Del Norte Coast Park, approximately two thousand five hundred acres, and one of the many units of which is the Henry S. Graves Redwood Grove with further additions to north and south. Here there are spectacular vistas of the Pacific from the Highway framed by the trunks of the Redwoods themselves. Professor Graves, after whom the grove was named, was one of the pioneers who laid the foundations of forestry in the U.S.A. His deep interest and clear insight into the needs and problems of their State Parks is known by all. The saving of this grove was made possible through the generosity of George Frederick Schwartz of New York, who upon its dedication sent the following message:

“I would express what I think those present may feel—that it is our hope that this lovely work of the Creator may continue for many generations to bring happiness, health and inspiration to those who may linger for a while among these remarkable trees, looking out here over the great Pacific, so noble in stature, of great age, but still so beautiful. Sometimes it has indeed seemed to me as if a strange mystery lay hidden within their sunlit crowns and among the deep shadows of their massive boles, as if they were too great for us fully to understand.”

As I emerged from the Graves Grove, I had the first glimpse of the bay of Crescent City. For a while the Redwoods were left behind; traveling was in open country in full view of the Pacific. Turning off the main road to the right, two miles south of Crescent City, I soon entered what I have always felt to be the most enchanting groves of all. They are in Del Norte County on the Smith River, with Mill Creek Grove as the center, the very heart of the finest trees. After long years of striving, these groves were at last saved for all time and included in a great State Park, the greatest of its kind, including the finest trees of the world. For eight miles there is a winding road through the great columns which tower overhead to an even height of three hundred feet. Massive ferns clothe the forest floor. Here a great silence pervades the groves and mere words fail to describe the beauty of the scene.

These coast Redwoods, Sequoia sempervirens, rise from the ground like the pillars of a cathedral, massive, with aisles innumerable, transepts multiple, arches complex, and over all, the grandest Gothic tracery enlivened with intricate fern-like patterns.

In the Cathedral of the Redwoods, the light filters through the lightest of leaves, thus causing the vast columns to change hour to hour, from moment to moment, as the kaleidoscopic scene unfolds. Sometimes the boles are brown or grey, with innumerable variations, at times they show pink but more often they take on a darker hue of more sombre red. For this they are named—“the Redwoods”.

Nowhere in the world do mature woods attain greater perfection than in Northern California among the Redwoods of Mill Creek in Del Norte County. The groves here are of great antiquity, and while many of the outstanding trees may be two thousand years old, their parentage may be traced back to trees that were standing nine thousand years ago. Here it seems, is life unending, and if protected now, the Redwoods of Mill Creek will endure through the ages, if man will but put aside his dangerous “toys” and “Learn such calm as they”.

If the visitor is lured on to explore the inner sanctuary of the woods, he will experience a sense of awe and reverence. Here he may find an ancient tree long dead, but still standing after a thousand years or more, with its trunk draped in emerald green moss as far as the eye can see. Farther on he may find a prostrate veteran with rings that show close to two thousand years of growth and anchoring [Page 14] it to the ground, another of the same age that had been felled for lumber.

The old coach road by Mill Creek winds through a forest of primeval character and virgin beauty. From the sea not four miles away come the morning mists, reflecting the sun as it touches the openings in the forest canopy. Shafts of light stream through the foliage lighting up the mist and enhancing the glory of the ferns and wild irises that deck the forest floor.

We cannot find words to describe our feelings. It is then that we turn to poets, who are a race apart, for they live as it were between two worlds, and, while mingling with us on earth, their thoughts aspire to heavenly places. Let the words of Robert Southey describe the Temple of the Redwood:

And through the leafy cope which bower’d it o’er

Came gleams of chequered light,

So like a temple did it seem, that there

A pious heart’s first impulse would be prayer.

The appeal of these Redwoods of Mill Creek is not only for their recreational and spiritual value or for their unsurpassed beauty and primitive grandeur on a scale found nowhere else in the world, but they are indispensable to the very life and well being of Del Norte County and California. The essential contribution they make is to the climate, filtering out the sea mists which would otherwise be wasted, transpiring moisture into the upper air to be carried inland to fall as rain or dew over the gardens and orchards, and thus provide food for man while at the same time satisfying his soul and spirit as nothing else can. They are majestically described by Stanton A. Coblentz, the greatest poet of the Redwoods. . . .

I think that could the weary world but know

Communion with these spirits breathing Peace

Strangely a veil would lift, a light would glow

And the dark tumult of our lives would cease.

To mark the 21st Anniversary of the setting aside of the first area of 12,000 acres at Mill Creek, the Men of the Trees convened a Redwood Reunion in the Grove of Understanding hard by the Stout Grove, the first area to be dedicated and which formed a nucleus, as it were, for the much larger area, which with the National Tribute Grove to those who fell in World War Two, brings the total preserved to about 17,000 acres.

There is a strong bond of sympathy and understanding among those who appreciate our elder brethren, the trees, for their own sakes and for the esthetic and spiritual contribution they give to life. Any conservationist, Man of the Trees, or friend of nature must be aware of the dependence of man upon the trees, for the many and vital contributions that they make to our very existence on this planet. And so it is not only foresters interested in the silvicultural characteristics of those noble trees who were drawn to this reunion, but biologists, ecologists, researchers in tree genetics, botanists and arboriculturists all of whom found some particular field of study which was their own.

There is much in these unspoilt groves to appeal to nature associations, conservation foundations, conservation committees of the garden clubs, horticultural societies, wilderness societies, members of the Wild Life Management Institute, and members of Outdoor Clubs, students of the National Parks Association, and it is earnestly desired that Redwood Reunions may serve as a point of focus to bring as many as possible together in association from every land so that they can learn from each other.

In these days of world tension it is good that we have in conservation, reforestation, and earth-healing by tree-planting, one of the most promising [Page 15] fields for world cooperation and understanding. Addressing humanity Bahá’u’lláh declared: Ye all are leaves of one tree, the fruit of one branch. Theodore Roosevelt, that great conservationist said: If a nation saves its trees, the trees will save the nation. And may it not be that in uniting as a World Society to save our trees and in fighting the deserts of the world we shall enjoy prosperity and peace, saving not only our soils but our souls and while healing the scars of the earth we shall heal the scars in our own hearts and in the hearts of all men everywhere.

WHEN RUNNING IS ALL YOU CAN DO

by William Stafford

When running is all you can do,

let your feet applaud your heart

and the two share the management;

make tracks in the sand, cut the wind;

let horizons bait your shoes:—

Neither left nor right, but aimed

from back of wherever you are,

the lateral world leans in,

toward a point so confined by speed

that your purpose cannot bend.

Then, statistically, the sand

will belong where your feet descend;

and your presence, normally,

will distribute where you belong,

given the way you will be—

And whatever set you to run,

and a few chance things, like the wind.

[Page 16]

THE INSTITUTIONALIZATION OF RELIGION

A Sociological Analysis of Religion and Conflict

By Jalil Mahmoudi, Ph.D.

Dr. Jalil Mahmoudi is Assistant Professor of Sociology and Languages at the University of Utah. His main interests are the sociology of religion, family structure, and linguistics. His doctoral dissertation is entitled “A Sociological Analysis of the Bahá’í Movement.” He is the author of several books, including How to Teach a Foreign Language.

The life cycle of a religion is classified into different phases, stages, eras, or epochs, depending on the viewpoints and on the basic purposes of the various writers and authorities.

David O. Moberg, in his treatment of “The Life Cycle of the Church”, reiterates the traditional four stages in the life cycle of religious bodies. These four stages include: cult, sect, denomination, and church. According to Moberg, “the cult is small, loosely structured, self-centered, and ‘different’; the sect is still small, claims to ‘have the only answer’, is anti-status quo, differentiates itself from the rest of the religious world, and often suffers persecution; the denomination is larger, is more liberalized and institutionalized, and tolerates and is tolerated; the church is even larger, conservative, bureaucratic, broad in its approach, and extremely influential in society.”

Two major stages in the life cycle of the church may be distinguished. The first stage begins with the inception of the church by the declarations of the founder and the acceptance of his claims by a group of followers. Sociologically, this represents a revolt against the prevailing order and, thus, a social movement. The newly formed group is ordinarily a minority group subject to persecution by the ruling majority. Thus, it forms a closely knit group with an “esprit de corps” and a high degree of cohesiveness. For the followers, the founder is generally a charismatic figure, a messenger of God, gifted with the Holy Spirit and, thus, an extraordinary, superhuman, holy and sacred being who is adored and obeyed and whose will is carried out by his devotees unconditionally and unquestioningly.

When, for example, Christ said to Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, while they were fishing, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4: 19), the Bible tells us that “they straightaway left their nets and followed Him” (Matthew 1:20). The same thing was true with James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who, after hearing the call of Christ, “Immediately left the ship and their father and followed Him” (Matthew 4:22).

This same devotion was evident when Muhammad declared his mission to Khadija and “she believed in Him and accepted as true what He brought from God,” and, also, when he said to Ali, “I call you to God, the One without an associate. . .” After one night of deliberation, Ali accepted Muhammad as the apostle of God “and asked Him what His orders were” and, thus, became the first male to believe in Muhammad and his mission.

In the revelation of the Báb, who declared his mission to Mullá Ḥusayn:

He then addressed me in these words: ‘O thou who art the first to believe in Me! Verily I say, I am the Báb, the Gate of God and thou art the Bábu’l-Báb, the gate of that Gate. Eighteen souls must, in the beginning, spontaneously and of their own accord, accept Me and recognise the truth of My Revelation. . . . Ere we depart, we shall appoint unto each of the eighteen souls his special mission, and shall send them forth to accomplish their task. We shall instruct them to teach the Word of God and to quicken the souls of men.’

[Page 17] Mullá Ḥusayn describes his reaction to this summons in the following words:

This Revelation, so suddenly and impetuously thrust upon me, came as a thunderbolt, which, for a time, seemed to have benumbed my faculties. I was blinded by its dazzling splendour and overwhelmed by its crushing force. Excitement, joy, awe, and wonder stirred the depths of my soul.

The founder of a major religion is considered to be a manifestation of God and, thus, his words are the words of God. The life of the disciples and those early believers is not a regular, everyday life. Depending upon the extent of their devotion to the cause, they may give everything, including their lives, to promote the cause—which to them is sacred and holy in nature—and to give one’s life or to be a martyr in the promotion of the new faith is a blessing and an honor of highest value. This willingness to sacrifice is based on the belief that the founder is not an ordinary man, but, rather, an unusual person entirely set apart from everyone else, and his manifestation is “a definite breaking point in the world of everydayness.” He carries a “charisma”; and charisma, as defined by Max Weber is “. . . a certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he is set apart from ordinary men and treated as endowed with supernatural, superhuman, or at least specifically exceptional powers or qualities. These are such as are not accessible to the ordinary person, but are regarded as of divine origin or as exemplary, and on the basis of them, the individual concerned is treated as a leader.”

With the passing of the founder—the original charismatic figure—one of two things happens. A successor may be explicitly and unquestionably appointed by the founder himself, in which case the appointed successor will inherit and carry the charisma. This kind of inherited charisma may be continued as far as the successors are appointed, one after another, by the accepted charismatic figures. On the basis of this type of succession the charismatic stage can be divided into two distinguishable periods: first, the period between the proclamation of the founder and his death (the essential charismatic period); and, second, the period of the appointed successors or vicegerents (the traditional charismatic period). The original figure receives his charisma from God, and the successors receive theirs from the founder.

Sooner or later, however, the succession is subject to termination or modification. With the termination of succession, the charismatic period is over and the second major period of the religion begins. Unlike the charismatic period, which generally is not very long, the second period is as long as the life cycle of the religion itself. During this time, the religion is institutionalized, or, in Weber’s term, the charisma is routinized.

The routinization of charisma is one of the most critical points in the life of a religion. Almost all of the major religions of the past have suffered during this transition. The main problems are those of succession, institutionalization, stratification, and bureaucratization. If provisions for these things are not explicitly made by the original charismatic figure or the universally accepted figures, the religion is faced with dilemmas of grave consequence. The pages of history are tinted with the social problems, conflicts, and gory incidents all through the ages that have been results of the religious strife of the transitional period.

Dr. T. F. O’Dea has distinguished five of the dilemmas which arise during the transition period. These dilemmas or paradoxes of institutionalization are as follows:

1. The Dilemma of Mixed Motivation

[Page 18] Institutionalization involves the emergence of organization, and organization brings about a set of statuses or positions with proper roles and functions, rights and obligations, as well as prestige and respectability. History has shown that the sphere of activity of religious dignitaries and their interests does not remain exclusively in the spiritual affairs of the church and has not been confined to their spiritual status. “The higher clergy in Christian history became important functionaries and dignitaries in society, with all rewards and benefits accruing to people in such positions.” Similar situations have prevailed in other churches. Dynasties of the Caliphate in Islam are a good example, and the power and influence of the Islamic clergy in political affairs is a historical fact. The involvement of the clergy in non-ecclesiastical realms brings about new interests and a sense of identification with those in temporal positions, which places them in the dominant class. “These new interests of the clergy” according to O’Dea, “often have deviated from the goals and values of the church . . . Thus, while mixed motivation, introduced by institutionalization, enhances stability and contributes to the survival of the organization, it also represents a source of serious transformation in the goals and values of the Church.”

2. The Symbolic Dilemma

Symbolic performances are the profane means of acting out the sacred attitudes in order to retain the original religious experience and its relation to the ultimate, the sacred, the something beyond. “Continued use of the same symbolic vehicles,” according to O’Dea, “has had the effect of making them usual and expected—that is of routinizing them. . . . The symbol consequently loses its power to elicit and affect attitudes and emotions.” O’Dea believes that “the embodiment of the sacred in the profane vehicles causes a loss of sacredness. . . and dependence upon symbolism, then, is reduced to a routine performance of established formalities and no longer serves its original purpose.”

3. The Dilemma of Administrative Order

Formal organizations and bureaucratic structures are established to carry out specific functions in response to one set of conditions and problems. Time changes, and with time the types of problems change. “Structures which emerge in one set of conditions and in response to one set of problems may turn out later to be unwieldy instruments for handling new problems under new conditions. Functional precedents established in handling earlier problems can become dysfunctional in later situations, and can even become formidable obstacles blocking any forthright action.” But the individuals involved in the organization “have a vested interest in the structure as it is” and, therefore, resist the change and reform which they tend to consider as a threat to their status. They are thus inspired by a mixed motivation.

4. Dilemma of Delimitation

This dilemma deals with the problems of definition and interpretation. O'Dea says:

To affect the lives of men, the original religious message must be stated in terms that have relevance to the everyday activities and concerns of people. Moreover, to preserve the import of the message, it must be protected against interpretations which would transform it in ways conflicting with its inner ethos. These needs are characteristic of both the religious message and the ethic implied in it. Both of these needs constitute a strong pressure for definition.

. . . This process of definition and concretization is at the same time a relativization of the religious and ethical message—a rendering of it relevant to the new circumstances of life of the religious group—and therefore involves the risk of making everyday and prosaic what was originally a call to the extraordinary.

[Page 19] O’Dea calls this process “the degeneration of symbols”, and Mircea Eliade refers to it as “a process of infantilization.” Some very simple examples of this dilemma are the substitution of certain saints for the founders of religions, the endless interpretations of the scriptures in some churches and, of late, the retranslation of scripture. In the most modern version of the Christian gospel “the three wise men from the East,” is translated as “the three astronomers.” Eliade refers to this phenomenon as the possibility of the “descent” of the symbol “from a scholarly to a popular level.”

The doctrine of Ijtihad in the Shi’ah sect of Islam is also a good example of the degeneration of symbols. This doctrine implies “the discovery and authoritative enunciation of fresh religious truths, based on comprehensive knowledge of Scripture and Tradition, and arrived at by supreme effort and endeavor, this last being the signification of the Arabic word. One who had attained to this is called a Mujtahid whose position may be roughly described as analogous to that of a Cardinal in the Church of Rome.” The other major sect of Islam, namely the Sunni sect, does not believe in Ijtihad. This doctrine is credited with the advantages of flexibility and adaptability, but when the countless independent Mujtahids, with no central or any organization, innocently or otherwise make their individual deductions from the scripture to meet specific problems, their conclusions often contradict each other. Such contradictions result in an obvious dilemma, to say the least.

5. The Dilemma of Power

This dilemma concerns the alliance of religion and power. It is the dilemma of “conversion versus coercion”. “This situation, as may be seen in the history of Christianity, draws religious and secular power together to enforce religious conformity.” Examples of this dilemma can be observed in the history of most of the churches of the past, including Islam. A condition of this kind defeats one of the most important elements of religion, which should be a spiritual institution, with a voluntary character and spontaneous nature.

Dr. O’Dea concludes:

The five dilemmas we have discussed are inherent in the process of the routinization of religious charisma. They are structural characteristics of the institutionalization process and as such are an important source of strain and conflict. They have been the cause of much protest-which, as we have seen, is a fundamental category of analysis in the study of religious movements. The conflicts of papacy and empire, and of church and state; the rise of anti-clericalism; the Reformation protest against symbols which reached its furthest extreme in Puritanism and the left sects; the attempt of Reformation communions to return to an older form of church policy; the rejection of scholasticism, with its complex philosophical formulations, and of canon law, with its detailed legal definitions—all these indicate the importance of these dilemmas in the history of Western religion. The use of power by both Catholics and Protestants to force religious assent, and the alignments of throne and altar which followed the Great Reform in both Catholic and Protestant countries, provide examples of the fifth dilemma.

Considering the environmental conditions of the religious manifestations of the past and their themes for their time, place, and cultural milieu, one may find justification for lack of provisions in the scriptures to establish the necessary institutions for the routinization of charisma. Regardless of the reasons and the justifications for the lack of such provisions, which are beyond the scope of this article, the outcome has invariably been the same. Horace Holley has written:

[Page 20]

It has been the general characteristic of religion that organization marks the interruption of the true spiritual influence and serves to prevent the original impulse from being carried into the world. The organization has invariably become a substitute for religion rather than a method or an instrument used to give the religion effect. The separation of peoples into different traditions unbridged by any peaceful or constructive intercourse has made this inevitable. Up to the present time, in fact, no Founder of a revealed religion has explicitly laid down the principles that should guide the administrative machinery of the faith He has established.

A TRANSITION

The mission of every founder of past religions comprises the renewal and revival of the old eternal truths and the promulgation of a new central theme. The central theme and distinguishing feature in the Bahá’í Dispensation is the principle of “oneness of mankind.” Therefore, the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, are based on this central theme and revolve around this major hub of the oneness or the unity of mankind.

Dilemmas of the type mentioned above, should they arise, would be contrary to this main theme and defeat the original purpose—the federation of mankind —since “World Unity” cannot be brought about without a “World Order.” Therefore, for the first time in the history of religion, the process of the routinization of charisma is prescribed and provided for by the charismatic figure himself. The institutionalization of the religion in the Bahá’í Dispensation is based upon an Administrative Order, which, in the words of Shoghi Effendi:

. . . is fundamentally different from anything that any Prophet has previously established, inasmuch as Bahá’u’lláh has Himself revealed its principles, established its institutions, appointed the person to interpret His Word and conferred the necessary authority on the body designed to supplement and apply His legislative ordinances. Therein lies the secret of its strength, its fundamental distinction, and the guarantee against disintegration and schism.

Provision for Succession

Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, in His Book of Aqdas (the Most Holy Book) and also in His Will and Testament, has appointed His successor in the following words:

God’s Will and Testament enjoins upon the branches, the twigs, and the kinsfolk, one and all, to gaze unto the most great Branch. Consider what we have revealed in my Book of Aqdas, to wit:

When the sea of My Presence is exhausted and the Book of Origin hath reached its end, turn you unto him (‘Abdu’l-Bahá) who is desired by God—he who is issued from his ancient Root.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá was thus appointed as the Center of the Covenant and the sole interpreter of the Scripture. He inherited the charisma and carried it through to the end of his life. It was not God’s will, according to the Bahá’ís, to end the charismatic period with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Another charismatic leader was needed to complete the formative stage of the Faith, to define and interpret the Words, and to act as a Guardian to the nascent World Order and its exponents. Therefore, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in his Will and Testament, appointed the Guardian of the Faith in the following words:

O my loving friends! After the passing away of this wronged one, it is incumbent upon the Aghsan (Branches), the Afnan (Twigs) of the Sacred Lote-Tree, the Hands (pillars) of the Cause of God and the loved ones of the Abhá Beauty to turn unto Shoghi Effendi—the youthful branch branched from the two hallowed and sacred Lote-Trees and the fruit grown from the union of the two offshoots of the Tree of Holiness,—as he is the sign of God, the chosen branch,[Page 21] the guardian of the Cause of God, he unto whom all the Aghsan, the Afnan, the Hands of the Cause of God and His loved ones must turn. He is the expounder of the words of God. . . .

Shoghi Effendi, who also inherited the charisma, served a dual purpose as the spiritual leader and the link between the charismatic period and the routinization of charisma. Shoghi Effendi did not appoint a successor. With his passing, the process of succession and thus the charismatic period ended. The movement was well established, the Faith was firmly founded, and the followers had presumably reached a stage of maturity adequate for the routinization of the charisma and the ultimate institutionalization of the Faith. Provisions for the routinization of the charisma were already thoroughly and explicity made by the Founder, himself. There was no room for guesswork, deduction, or legitimation. The process was spelled out and the institutions on local and national levels were actually established during the charismatic period. The only institution which remained to be established was the Universal House of the Justice, the supreme legislative body of the new World Order.

The Establishment of the Institutions

The Bahá’í institutions, as vehicles to carry out the principles revealed by the Founder, and to legislate the unrevealed principles, are explicitly established and founded by Bahá’u’lláh himself. These institutions begin at the grassroots, at the community level, and expand upward to the highest legislative body at the international world level.

The Nineteen-Day Feast

Every adult Bahá’í of either sex anywhere in the world is provided with a platform and a floor to express himself, every nineteen days, in the Nineteen-Day Feast. This institution is considered to be the bedrock of Bahá’í democracy, and the foundation of the new World Order. All of the elected bodies share their accomplishments and intentions with their respective communities in the Nineteen-Day feasts, and every individual has the right and the privilege to make his voice heard. It is the duty of the elected bodies to record the thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms of every member and act upon them in one way or another, which actions in turn should be brought to the attention of the membership.

The Nineteen-Day Feast is not a mere administrative meeting. It is essentially devotional and spiritual in nature. The first part of it is entirely spiritual in character and devoted to readings of the Bahá’í inspirational sacred writings. In this first period it is hoped that under the influence of the words of God hearts are sanctified and spirits are uplifted, and egoistic desires and impulses are transformed into altruistic aspirations, heavenly thoughts, and selfless motives. With this preparation the second part, consisting of general consultation on the affairs of the Cause, begins. This is the time when the local Spiritual Assembly reports its activities to the community and asks for suggestions and consultation. The main purpose of the second part is to enable the individual Bahá’ís to participate in their community affairs, to offer suggestions to their local Assembly, and through the local Assembly to their National Assembly and even to the Universal House of Justice. Thus, the feast is a proper medium through which the local Bahá’í Community, as well as every individual member, can communicate with its elected bodies at all levels, and vice versa. The third part is the material feast and social meeting of all members.

Local Spiritual Assembly

The local Spiritual Assembly is an elected administrative body in each city, town, or village, where at least nine Bahá’ís 21 years of age or over reside. The [Page 22] area of jurisdiction of a local Assembly is confined to the civil boundaries. The assemblies are re-elected once a year on April 21, the day of the Declaration of Bahá’u’lláh. Officers of the Assmbly, such as the chairman, the secretary, the treasurer, are elected by the majority vote of the members of the assembly. Committees needed to carry out specific activities of the community are appointed by the assembly from among the entire community membership.

The local Spiritual Assemblies are also considered, in their turn, to be the foundation stones of the new World Order. The purpose and the function of these elected bodies can be well seen in the following words of Shoghi Effendi:

In order to avoid division and disruption, that the Cause may not fall a prey to conflicting interpretations, and lose thereby its purity and pristine vigor, that its affairs may be conducted with efficiency and promptness, it is necessary that every one should conscientiously take an active part in the election of these Assemblies, abide by their decisions, enforce their decree, and cooperate with them wholeheartedly in their task of stimulating the growth of the Movement throughout all regions. The members of these Assemblies, on their part, must disregard utterly their own likes and dislikes, their personal interests and inclinations, and concentrate their minds upon the measures that will conduce to the welfare and happiness of the Bahá’í Community and promote the common weal.

National Spiritual Assembly

The National Spiritual Assembly is the sole authority on the national level. This body is elected by the indirect vote of all the membership in any given country. All the Bahá’ís of the geographic districts, states, or provinces of every country, elect their delegates for a national convention every year. The number of delegates is proportionate to the number of members in the geographical area. The elected delegates will form the National Convention and will, in their turn, elect from among all the members in the country nine persons to serve as members of the National Spiritual Assembly.

The National Spiritual Assemblies are also referred to as the Secondary Houses of Justice, and they are considered to be the pillars of the Universal House of Justice.

As far as the authority of this body is concerned, Shoghi Effendi asserts that “the authority of the National Spiritual Assembly is undivided and unchallengeable in all matters pertaining to the administration of the faith, throughout the country; and that, therefore, the obedience of individual Bahá’ís, delegates, groups and assemblies to that authority is imperative, and should be wholehearted and unqualified.”

Universal House of Justice

The Universal House of Justice, the supreme legislative body of the Administrative Order, is elected by the members of all the National Spiritual Assemblies, from among all the Bahá’ís of the world. With regard to its election, position, and function, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes:

And now, concerning the House of Justice which God hath ordained as the source of all good and freed from all error, it must be elected by universal suffrage, that is, by the believers. Its members must be manifestations of the fear of God and daysprings of knowledge and understandings, must be steadfast in God’s faith and the well-wishers of all mankind. By this House is meant the Universal House of Justice, that is, in all countries, a secondary House of Justice must be instituted, and these secondary House of Justice must elect the members of the Universal one. Unto this body all things must be referred. It enacteth all ordinances and regulations that are not to be found in the explicit Holy Text. By this body all the difficult problems are to be resolved. . .

[Page 23] The members of this legislative body do not represent any particular nation or segment of the world. They represent the Bahá’í World and are responsible only to God and not to the electorate.

The first Universal House of Justice was elected by fifty-six National Spiritual Assemblies on April 21, 1963. The election took place in Haifa, Israel, the Bahá’í World Center, by an International Convention consisting of most of the 504 members of the National Assemblies which were formed to that date. The members of the Universal House of Justice are nine in number at the present time.

No Priesthood

The lack of a priesthood is one of the distinguishing features of the Bahá’í Faith. There is no clergy or any title or rank which may give specific religious authority to any individual Bahá’í. Authority is confined to elected bodies only, and, as Shoghi Effendi states, “to no one of the believers such a station has been conferred, which can place him outside and above the jurisdiction of any Assembly.” Thus, in the absence of differentiation, the problem of religious stratification, as far as the individual believers are concerned, is avoided.

Nor will membership in any of the elected bodies, Local or National Spiritual Assemblies, or even the Universal House of Justice, place an individual at a different level from the rest of the believers. Precautions are taken “that personalities should not be made the centers around which the community may revolve, but that they should be subordinated under all conditions and, however great their merits, to the properly constituted assemblies.”

Elections Without Campaign

It is the unique characteristic of the Bahá’í elections on all levels that they are carried out without any kind of campaign. Electioneering of any nature, including reference to personalities, influencing the opinion of others, and canvassing for a particular individual are strictly forbidden. Elections should take place in a “rarefied atmosphere of selflessness and detachment,” and the elector should vote “for none but those whom prayer and reflection have inspired him to uphold.”

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

According to some authorities in the field of the sociology of religion the process of “the institutionalization of religion is itself the working out of a set of structurally inherent dilemmas.” Dr. O’Dea has distinguished five such dilemmas including:

The Dilennna of Mixed Motivation,

The Symbolic Dilemma,

The Dilemma of Administrative Order,

The Dilemma of Delimitation, and

The Dilemma of Power.

In the study of religions subject to the above dilemmas, two general characteristics may be distinguished. They are the lack of explicit provision for succession and the institutionalization of religion by the founders of the revealed religions.

In the Bahá’í Dispensation, however, for the first time in the history of religion some new characteristics are noticeable as a result of the explicit principles and guidance given by the Founder. Among these are

1. Provisions for succession by the Founder Himself;

2. Delimitation of the right of interpretation to the appointed and authorized interpreters only;

3. Prescription of methods and institutions for the Administrative Order

[Page 24]:4. Elimination of priesthood;

5. Equalization of rights and privileges to all mankind regardless of nationality, race, sex, etc.;

6. Confinement of the responsibility of the elected delegates to God and not to the electors;

7. Ascription of no spiritual status or authority to any individual person since the end of the charismatic period;

8. Confinement of authority to the elected bodies only;

9. Elections without electioneering and campaign;

10. The bestowal of the right to legislate, enact, ratify, and amend the laws that are not explicitly revealed by the Founder upon the Universal House of Justice;

11. Combination and reconciliation of spiritual qualities (mysticism) with mundane responsibilities (practical ethics) to provide an equilibrium for the safeguarding of man’s happiness and his social relationships;

12. Repudiation of censorship and prohibition of dispute over definitions and interpretations of the scripture among the individual believers.

Thus, the principles and guidelines for an Administrative Order were expressed by Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith. Furthermore, to remove any shade of doubt, these provisions are thoroughly explained and developed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the Center of His Covenant, and Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Faith.

The purpose of this Administrative Order is to establish means for the great theme and the ethos of this movement which is none less than the “unification of mankind”, the “universal peace”, and an orderly “world brotherhood” under a divine World Order. History will show whether, in spite of all these precautions, man will find ways to bring about paradoxical conditions and dilemmas, as he has in previous dispensations. Bahá’ís believe that it does not seem possible, at least in the foreseeable future.

But if, despite all of these principles, history is going to repeat itself and problems of man’s interference with the work of God occur again, then on the principle of “progressive revelation”, which is another belief of the Bahá’í Faith, time will be ripe for the next manifestation of God to appear; or, in the language of sociologists, another “value-oriented movement” will take place.

Ours, however, is not to speculate on the future and the possible problems which may or may not arise. Our problems are here and now. Sociologically speaking, Yinger says: “In dealing with the individual and group powers of the world, religion finds itself working in a constantly more complicated situation. To define the tasks and accept the forms of expression that may have had meaning a century ago or even a decade ago may be to court utter failure in a world in which the aim of brotherhood has suddenly been transformed from an exciting vision to an absolute necessity.”

The Bahá’í Faith claims to have the answer and Shoghi Effendi, the late Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, has briefly described the Bahá’í plan for the world organization in the following words:

The unity of the human race, as envisaged by Bahá’u’lláh, implies the establishment of a world commonwealth in which all nations, races, creeds and classes are closely and permanently united, and in which the autonomy of its state members and the personal freedom and initiative of the individuals that compose them are definitely and completely safeguarded.

[Page 25]

This commonwealth must, as far as we can visualize it, consist of a world legislature whose members will, as trustees of the whole of mankind, ultimately control the entire resources of all the component nations, and will enact such laws as shall be required to regulate the life, satisfy the needs and adjust the relationships of all races and peoples.

A world executive, backed by an international force, will carry out the decisions arrived at, and apply the laws enacted by this world legislature, and will safeguard the organic unity of the whole commonwealth. A world tribunal will adjudicate and deliver its compulsory and final verdict in all and any disputes that may arise between the various elements constituting this universal system.

[Page 26]

IS THERE ANYTHING[Page 27] NEW IN THE BAHÁ’Í FAITH?

By Emeric Sala

Emeric Salu is truly a citizen of the world. Born in Hungary of a Hungarian father and a Czechoslovakian mother, he has been a subject of eight kings and has lived for a year under a Latin American president. Mr. Sala has lectured in several universities, speaking to audiences as far apart as Haiti and Vienna, Vancouver and Buenos Aires. He is now living in South Africa. He is the author of This Earth One Country.

Cursory readers of Bahá’í literature may conclude that there is nothing really new in it besides its name. A study of comparative religions shows that all religions teach the Golden Rule. The Bahá’ís stand for agreement between science and religion, equality between men and women, harmony between people of different races and cultures, world government, a universal tongue, a world police force and world peace. These are praiseworthy aims, and were daring in the latter half of the nineteenth century when announced by Bahá’u’lláh, the founder of the Bahá’í Faith, but His followers do not claim for these ideals a world copyright. Bahá’ís also believe in the oneness of mankind, which others may call the brotherhood of man, but this apparently is not new either.

What then is new in the Bahá’í Faith? For unless this faith has something new and vital for our age, not available in the other religions, Bahá’ís have no logical justification to form a new religion, and thus threaten a further division of our fragmented society.

Bahá’u’lláh did bring something new and of great urgency, for our times. It is so new that we have no adequate words in our language to make it readily intelligible, just as television was a meaningless word not so many years ago.

For what Bahá’u’lláh has brought to the world we can call a new invention. It is certainly a new creation, a new experience in mankind’s social and spiritual life. It is more than an idea and more than a law. It is more than a technique and has already been tested in a pilot plant. Those who have genuinely tried it can testify that it works.

People were skeptical at first of the feasibility of television, until they could see that the thing worked. May we not similarly expect resistance, when we are dealing with a new dimension in the realm of moral and social experience, especially when the proof of seeing it work requires more preparation than the buying of a television set?

The moral individual in an immoral State.

In the last war a Londoner could not have killed his German neighbor, not only because it would have been against his conscience, a conscience conditioned by thousands of years of religious education, but also because it would have been against the laws of his country. It would have been murder. Yet in uniform, the same Englishman could have released a bomb over Berlin, killing hundreds of men, women and children, and then it would not have been against his conscience, nor against the laws of his country, or those of any other country.

Or, a Spanish nobleman, while attending a banquet at the court of Queen Isabella, could not have been tempted to steal a silver spoon. He could not have done so, not only because of his Christian upbringing, but also because it would [Page 28] have been against the laws of his country. And yet the same nobleman, at the head of his army, did not hesitate to invade the land of the Incas and steal shiploads of silver from people who had never done him or his country any harm. For looting was not against his Christian conscience nor against the laws of his country nor those of any other country.

How could the Englishman kill hundreds of Germans, and the Spaniard appropriate the life’s savings of a nation without remorse or fear of punishment? Indeed, they were welcomed back as national heroes by their respective countries. Our contention is that the religions of the past were able to inculcate in man a moral restraint, which in time was legalized to regulate life and custom between individuals, within the family and tribe, culminating in the nation, but left a void in the relationship between classes, nations and races.

At the time of Christ life was pastoral and agricultural. Communication and even social contact in a lifetime was limited for the great majority to a radius of about twenty miles from their birthplace. Without the skill of reading or writing, tied to a village economy, man’s awareness of his neighbors was limited to a valley or a region his mind could encompass. In such a world Christ’s injunction, “Love thy neighbor,” meant John and Ruth, people he knew personally. He followed the divine commandments in his relations with his neighbors with whom he had a common culture—but how could he obey these laws in relation to strangers he had never seen, and whose existence had never really entered his consciousness?

In a pastoral and agricultural society our problems and relationships were essentially personal. In our modern industrialized society our problems are increasingly global. As individuals we do not normally fear each other, and do not carry weapons for self-protection. As nations, however, we are armed, for we mistrust each other.

Formulating the foreign policy of a Western country, a famous Prime Minister said: “Our nation has no eternal friends, only eternal interests.” This is the meaning of another patriotic statement: “My country, right or wrong”—the dilemma of the twentieth century as it was startlingly illustrated in the Nuremberg trials.

The American Peace Corps, however selfless the motivation of its young members, is still suspect, because the State that sponsors it, like any other State in a pre-Bahá’í society, is primarily interested in the welfare of its own citizens.

Our conclusion is that however moral we may be as persons, we live in an immoral state. The citizens of a country taken as individuals may be friendly, trustworthy, likeable and charitable. Yet the same people collectively, as a nation, can be guilty of cruelty, oppression and mass murder, entirely out of character in relation to their individual members. Why? Because the impact of the religions of the past stopped short somewhere along the line of our evolving conscience. The problem of our age is a breakthrough, transcending the limitations of racial national and religious loyalties.

Has society a conscience?

Can moral sanctions have the same restraining effect on a nation as they have on individuals? Since moral laws are incorporated in our legal system to regulate the relationship between individuals, why are there no similar laws in existence to prevent wars between nations? Can the good which is in each citizen be expressed collectively through the state? We are going to answer these questions by comparing a Christian and a Bahá’í community of equal size confronting the same social problem.

[Page 29] We shall assume that the members of this Christian community are God-fearing, practising Christians who want a solution to their problem which is not in conflict with their individual conscience: What will they do?

They may consult the Bible, in which they will not find a specific answer to their particular problem. In an earlier age they may have turned to their Church authority for a decision, but we are dealing here with mature people who want to make a decision of their own. How will they go about it?

Each member will search his own soul, and then they will have a meeting. Experience has shown that the voice within, the voice of one’s conscience, will tell different people different things. To simplify our case, we shall assume that the various views presented are reduced to three alternative solutions. This means that the community has been split into three parties, each convinced that its answer is the right one. Once a group of people are convinced that they are right it is almost impossible to change their opinion. We now have three parties at loggerheads with each other. A compromise, which at best is a makeshift arrangement, would not do, for the nature of this problem is such that it will not work without the cooperation of all. The alternative is conflict, tension, hatred and possibly violence, which is a fair reflection of our society’s present state.

Now we shall take the Bahá’í community facing the same problem. Individually, we shall assume, they are as good as the Christians. But the difference is this. When the Bahá’ís face a common problem, they do not seek the answer in their own heart, which is probably biased, but turn, in the words of Bahá’u’lláh “like one soul in many bodies”, to a new instrument, the Spiritual Assembly.

It is the sacred duty of every Bahá’í, man and woman, to vote once a year in the locality of residence for a Spiritual Assembly of nine members. This Assembly becomes on social issues “the inner voice” of the community. Its decision on problems affecting the community becomes as binding to its members as is the conscience in the private life of a practising Jew, Christian or Muslim.

In his personal life a Bahá’í continues to follow the dictates of his own conscience as does any other person of faith. He too finds his inner peace through prayer and meditation, and his attitude to God is reflected in his deeds towards his fellowmen. But on social issues, affecting the community as a whole, a Bahá’í accepts the decision of his Spiritual Assembly as being morally and spiritually superior to his own. (In case of an unlikely dispute, a Bahá’í can appeal to the National Spiritual Assembly, and from there as a last resort, to the Universal House of Justice.)

A Bahá’í election cannot be compared with a political election where the candidate is expected to represent the interests of his constituents. For a Bahá’í to vote is just as sacred an act as communion is to a Christian. It is an integral part of his religious life. The person he votes for does not represent his interests but his conscience, and the act of voting is an act of union in their faith in Bahá’u’lláh.

There are no candidates, no party program and no electioneering at a Bahá’í election. The atmosphere is calm and prayerful.

A Bahá’í Assembly of nine usually consists of a cross-section of the community. The various members may have different interests and conflicting opinions. Individually they will have their own likes and dislikes. How will this Assembly distinguish particular interests from the greater interests of the whole community? How can they avoid being as divided as was the Christian community facing the same problem?

[Page 30] The secret of the Assembly’s success lies in the fact that Bahá’u’lláh has evoked a new dimension of social consciousness, and made them collectively responsible to God. A Bahá’í Assembly could not, for instance, contemplate a law which is unfair to a minority group, just as a believing Christian could not plot a burglary of his Church.

While each Assembly member is encouraged to present his views as convincingly as he can, he knows that he sees only one facet of the whole truth. He knows that he represents only a party, and that the greatest good is in the whole. After he has presented his opinion, it is no longer his. A Bahá’í gives away his opinion in the Assembly, as a Christian gives away a Christmas present.

Without preparatory training, group thinking can easily be disturbed and swayed by a dominant personality. “The members of the Assembly must,” writes ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the son of the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, “in every matter search out the truth and not insist upon their own opinion, for stubbornness and persistence in one’s views will lead ultimately to discord and wrangling and the truth will remain hidden.” That is why a Bahá’í is conditioned from early youth to try, after presenting his case as well as he can, to understand the other point of view rather than defend his own. The religious mind is often a closed mind. Not so in the Bahá’í Faith. For therein one’s ego is constantly tested and purified, as the individual will has, on matters of action, to submit to the will of the group.

In Bahá’í consultation each mind gives as well as takes, and is constantly trained to remain open. The ideas born in such a meeting are the result of creative interaction of unselfish minds. One freed from personal ambition has greater vision and deeper insight. This is the detached attitude of the scientist absorbed in an objective search, and yet with a passion for truth. It is a new process of intercreative thinking.

A little girl approaching her father asked him what he was doing. He answered, “I’m writing my sermon for next Sunday.” His daughter asked: “Daddy, how do you know what to write?” After some hesitation the minister answered, “God tells me.” “Daddy,” the girl asked, “if God tells you what to write, why do you rub out so much?” When we listen only to our inner voice we are not really sure how much of it is the voice of God and how much the voice of our ego.

No special authority is conferred upon the chairman of the Assembly, and his vote does not carry more weight than that of any other member. While a decision may have been reached by a majority of the Nine, it has the same effect as a unanimous vote. For when the nine members present their views—and their vote—they give it away, and transfer individual responsibility to collective responsibility. Whether an individual was for or against an issue is immaterial after a vote is taken. That is the reason there are no minority groups or schisms in the Bahá’í Faith.

With the creation of the Bahá’í administrative order, Bahá’u’lláh has endowed the community of his followers with collective moral responsibility. By imposing collective responsibility on the community, this Faith endows society with a collective conscience.

A new type of leadership.

In contrast to the religious communities of the past, which were essentially father-centered, the Bahá’í World Community is centered around assemblies. The minister of many a Christian community is still addressed as father. Kings and sultans, popes and bishops often filled the need of a father image. Going back still further, the patriarchal society was the established pattern.

For the last six thousand years leadership meant individual personal impact. [Page 31] Until recently it was assumed that leadership and for that matter any accomplishment requiring skill and knowledge, let alone judgment, could come only from the individual. An organization, we assumed, could perform only simple, repetitive, regimented work.

It is only since the early half of this century that we can discern a trend of leadership from king to parliament, from minister to cabinet, from judge to jury. The large business organizations are no longer built or run by one man. Great decisions are increasingly entrusted to the interaction of many minds, be it a board, a commission, or council. Even our greatest inventions are today the result of the working together of many scientists.

A Spiritual Assembly, whether of a local, national, or international Bahá’í community, represents a new type of leadership. An Assembly’s influence on a community is different from the impact of a leader’s personality. An assembly can never address a community with the authoritarian and often condescending voice of a father’s “my children”.

A leader’s relationship to a community is like that of a father to his children. A Bahá’í assembly’s relationship to its community is a new way, born out of their common faith and understanding, rather than subservience and authority.

When a community is mature, not only in a physical sense, namely, that each Bahá’í voter is over twenty-one, but also emotionally and spiritually, the assembly’s decision is accepted as the ultimate good for all. The bond that binds the Bahá’í voter to his assembly, his collective social conscience, is deeper, and different from that of any other voter in relation to his government.

When a Bahá’í votes he is performing a consecrated act of his faith, and when an assembly consults and reaches a decision it does so in conscious affirmation of their common faith. In such a relationship, when the Grace of God is evoked, the impact of human personality with its inherent limitations is out of place.

The shift is thus inevitably from father- or personality-centeredness to assembly- or idea-centeredness; from immaturity to maturity.

“All created things,” wrote ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, “have their degree of maturity. The period of maturity in the life of a tree is the time of its fruit-bearing. . . in the human Kingdom man reaches his maturity when the light of his intelligence attains its greatest power and development.”

More than twenty years ago Shoghi Effendi wrote: “That mystic, all pervasive, yet indefinable change, which we associate with the stage of maturity inevitable in the life of the individual and the development of the fruit. . . must have its counterpart in the organization of human society. A similar state must sooner or later be attained in the collective life of mankind. . . and endowing the whole human race with such potentialities of well-being as shall provide, throughout the succeeding ages, the chief incentive required for the eventual fulfillment of its high destiny.”

[Page 32]

WILL WE LAND?

By Vinson Jamir

Vinson Jamir is our youngest contributor so far. His unsolicited essay was irresistible to the usually dour editors of WORLD ORDER. He will be 17 this November, and a senior in high school. Let him speak for himself: “I am unmarried (of course), and have traveled widely inside the U.S. with my family. I have no job, have never had one yet, and so far I haven’t had time to do anything to achieve renown. As far as my school work goes, I am a fair student, making A’s and B’s. I hope I am what you would call a typical Bahá’í youth, living a Bahá’í life as best he knows how.” If his essay indicates what we may expect from the next generation of contributors, WORLD ORDER will be sitting pretty for quite some time.

Freak meteors, natural phenomena, satellites falling to earth, secret weapons, a lost race living deep in a mountain, and beings from other planets—these theories all struggle at once to unravel the mystery of the U.F.O.’s. This mystery competes with the threat of world war for public concern. Is there a connection between the two competing issues, or is the U.F.O. an unwanted distraction?

Unidentified Flying Objects mystified our ancient ancestors. From the mouths of their caves they may have watched in awe the spectacle of lightning during a storm. To them it could have symbolized the irresistible striking power of a Supreme Being. During the Dark Ages, the minds of men still wrestled with the mystery enshrouding the heavens. Today, old U.F.O.’s are being replaced with new ones. Sun, Moon, and stars all identified in their motions and functions, the human race is freed for greater contests with the unknown.

Let’s imagine ourselves on a vantage point, surveying the domain of the U.F.O. mystery. On four sides stretch four regions of this domain. The mental inhabitants of each region have evolved their own answers and solutions. Those of one region propose that the unidentified flying objects are designed, manufactured, and piloted by natives of other planets. This is their basic concept, but they argue as to the nature of these beings. Some make them gods; others fear them as bloodthirsty fiends; and still others think of them as being just like Earthlings, only with an advanced technology. All three types inspire equal terror. Another region holds that U.F.O.’s are figments of imagination. Mass [Page 33] insanity, they say, is fast becoming a reality. Myriads of conflict-weary people, convinced of their helplessness to correct a hopeless situation, seek escape. Such a humanity would rather chase a mirage that offers direct challenge than make the painful sacrifices and the herculean effort needed to end the conflicts. Still another region swears that these objects represent sinister forces on the planet itself. Some of them think that U.F.O.’s could be secret weapons developed by powerful nations, while others suspect that nature still keeps many secrets from mankind, U.F.O.’s being among them. These men probe the remotest possibilities. Maybe, they say, a tiny fragment of the human race hides in a remote place, living apart from the rest. Maybe they design and operate the miraculous vehicles we seem to see in the heavens. One last region denies the others, saying that the question ranks as one, big, global mistake. According to these people, optical illusions account for all the sightings, and impressionable simpletons have created their own false details. They laugh at the fright caused by balloons, atmospheric quirks, birds, clouds, and spiders’ webs floating through the air. These men are called scoffers, the skeptics, the practical-minded people. Though they seem boring and stubborn, most of the time they are obviously right.

Here stand we. Briefly we have scanned the most frequently encountered opinions of thousands of people. The next step is to examine the logic behind their theories.

The skeptic’s argument rests on the sheer force of statistics for its authority. Investigation usually shows a common-place object at the bottom of a flying-saucer incident. An overwhelming majority of these incidents are merely an indication of the ignorance and misjudgement of the average person. Skeptics take several different attitudes toward the small percentage of cases not yielding a solution upon investigation. One attitude is merely faith that more intense scrutinizing will clarify the mystery. Another widespread attitude is that authorities are deliberately withholding information for reasons of national security. This is a plausible attitude. It’s obvious that the ordinary individual has no real concept of how rapidly science is advancing. Mix a fabulous rate of scientific growth with a war so cold that it burns, and the results are instruments of destruction that dwarf anything gone before.

The next two groups try to find the answer to the mystery on this planet. To them it is possible that mankind does not yet know itself. If the human race is moving toward insanity, then they stand on firm ground in saying that U.F.O.’s are delusions, the result of a subtle and increasing mass hysteria. True, mental illness and real insanity grow with every passing day. If the human race is at war, then they stand on firm ground to say that the U.F.O.’s are secret weapons. Who can deny that in fierce international conflicts, science thrives unbelievably? During the last world wars, science contrived instruments of destruction that amazed everyone when they were unveiled. While the great powers lick their wounds and return to former strength, who knows what weapons they fashion in their lairs to throw against each other in one, last, desperate struggle? And when all the other races had sharpened their claws for war and bloodthirsty battle thousands of years ago, might not a tender, weak, forsaken, and forgotten segment of humanity have stolen away to some remote place, living all these long years in lonely self-confinement, waiting for such a time as it could come forward without fear for its children and assured of peace? This would be the mysterious lost race that many think is operating the U.F.O.’s—waiting, watching, helping the rest of mankind in any way they know how.

Next are those who think of the unidentified flying objects as being operated [Page 34] by alien intelligence. The question of life existing on other planets is a difficult one. Scientists freely admit that there could be life on other planets. That there are other planets they don't doubt. Planets appear around stars as commonly as acorns appear on oak trees. As far as life on other planets is concerned, science claims no evidence either for or against it. Many scientists, as a matter of faith, believe that intelligent life exists on other planets. True scientists seek to discover order in the universe, and nothing seems so orderly as the evolution of life on a planet from a simple power of growth, developing into sense powers and willful movement, and culminating in intelligent life forms. With this faith as a basis, we assume that intelligent life—where it abounds—forms a civilization. All forms of life strive for equilibrium and balance; every existing thing tends to organize a pattern for its activities.

Suppose, then, that intelligent life had so organized itself that it was capable of exploring and colonizing other worlds, what would the character of its civilization be? Since the home planet is limited in resource, it becomes clear that the use of these resources must be conducted wisely and not wastefully. A planet at war with itself is powerless to explore and utilize its own resources! This fact is slowly dawning on a few Earthlings. The nature, then, of a civilization ready and capable to explore and harness the resources in the vicinity of its own planet is a close parallel to the civilization that Earthlings have yearned after for thousands of years—a society of peace and perpetual development, where the emotional and mental shackles have been removed so that the human mind can function at full capacity. The individuals composing such a civilization would certainly not be devils, nor would they be gods. True, they would be unimaginably advanced. If one of us met such an individual at this moment, he probably would be psychologically incapable of withstanding the situation. How can Earthlings, incapable as they are of living among each other peacefully, possibly accept in their midst a society utterly new and totally different from any they have ever experienced before?

Let’s for a moment, think of these imaginary beings as sensitive, emotional creatures with all the positive human qualities needed to build the civilization they have. Would they openly announce their presence and display the full magnificence of their culture to Earthlings? Since they could view our civilization as a whole, they would probably know better than we the delicate and critical stage through which it is passing. They would also be aware of the inbred and unreasoning terror that Earthlings have for creatures from planets besides their own. Having developed a high sense of morality as a necessary part of their culture, they would not wish to interfere in our private affairs, and would contact only the highest authorities, in the utmost secrecy, and only when absolutely necessary.

It appears that world war and U.F.O.’s are intimately linked. Whether the objects are natural phenomena, or are piloted by a lost race or by warring nations, or are the result of mass insanity, the solution to the mystery circles around the question of war. If war continues, the mystery will never be solved, for a lost race or an alien race will not associate with a world at war; mass insanity and unexplained natural phenomena will never be cleared away till war ends and peace is established. Only then will the billions now spent on destruction be channelled into projects of universal benefit.

Here stand we on our vantage point—a question that rises more urgent and more real above the rest. The question is not whether “they” will land, but whether or not we will land—land, that is, on our own planet Earth. We have exploited it, polluted it, and lived on it; but we have never really made it our home. For all practical purposes, we are hostile aliens on our own planet.

[Page 35]

The non-hero in history

By Nosratollah Rassekh

A talk before Phi Alpha Theta (History Honor Society) Chapter at Lewis and Clark College

Nosratollah Rassekh was born in Tihran, where he received his primary and secondary education. He holds a B.A. from Stanford, as well as a Ph.D. in history from the same institution. He is now Associate Professor and Chairman of the Department of History at Lewis and Clark College, Portland, Oregon.

A historian’s profession is exciting as well as challenging. It is exciting because he re-creates the past. In the words of the German philosopher and historian, Wilhelm Dilthey, “man bound and determined by the reality of life is set free not only by art . . . but also through the understanding of history.” The sequences of scenes in a play enable the onlooker to relive the segments of the lives of the persons represented. “Man can, through the study of history, live through many other existences. The narration of history, too, produces in us a reliving of that process.”

“For me,” writes Dilthey, “as for most people today, the possibility of living through experiences in my person is narrowly circumscribed. But when I run through Luther’s letters and writings, the accounts given by his contemporaries, the record of religious conferences and councils and of his official activities, I live through a religious process of such eruptive power, of such energy, in which [Page 36] the stake is life or death, that it lies beyond any possibility of personal experience for a man of our day; but I can relive it.”

It is in this triumph of reliving that we historians contribute our share to the mental treasures of civilization, and “in it, the fragments of a process are so filled that we think we have a continuous whole before use.”

History is also a challenging profession because narration alone cannot provide man with the ability to understand history. Human action needs explanation. The historian has to provide, if not for his reader, at least for himself, a conceptual connection between understanding man’s action and discerning its rationale. And there are no simple explanations for human behavior. Human motivation is a complex mixture of factors, and in history the mixture will differ, depending on the time, the place, and the individual. History does not really repeat itself and even the most striking events may well be remarkably different in their motivation, their effects and their significance.

Thus, it is not at all easy to recreate the past. The task is demanding and complicated, but for the fragile mind of an amateur historian a single explanation has to suffice. To him history consists of stories, and all stories must have heroes and villains. The “Great Man Theory” comes naturally to him—there are various degrees of hero-worship characteristic of all men. Heroes evoke man’s interest far more readily than the impersonal functioning of politics or the abstract interplay of economic forces. In man’s mind, vivid images of heroes are eternally imprinted.

Popular history has encouraged the belief that great historical events and achievements are the works of outstanding individuals. “History is,” as one historian explained it, “the story of the successful, or better, the successful write the history.” In chronicles and legends, in monuments, in reliefs in palace walls and temples, in art and in literature, it is the hero who dominates the scene; it is the hero who writes history. To me, Trajan’s Column represents a marvelous example of this traditional narration of history. It is a remarkable visual account, clearly and intentionally an example of Roman popular art, “addressing itself to that vast multitude which could not get its information and enjoyments from books.” It stands 120 feet in height, with a diameter varying from 12 feet at the base of its shaft to ten feet at the top. On it now stands a giant statue of St. Peter where originally stood a thirteen-foot replica of the emperor. Here one can follow Trajan’s campaigns against the kingdom of Dacia from beginning to end. On ninety different occasions, the heroic figure of Trajan appears, always in complete command of the situation, always ready for a new activity, always a hero par excellence.

Of the vanquished, there is almost no recollection. There is a burning Dacian village in one scene and another depicts the severed heads of some Dacians being offered to the emperor by his soldiers. The scenes are incidental to the narrative. Today only few are aware of the existence of a kingdom in Dacia—so thorough has been the Romanization of the region that part of it is still known as Rumania —and few took note of the fact that in the process of change a whole nation was wiped out.

Then what has been the place of the non-hero in history and historical change? By the non-hero, I simply mean that vast majority of mankind who as a rule have no ambition beyond their search for food, love, and security, and who, limited by the circumstances of their lives, cannot ask, nor indeed expect, from life more than small portions of each.

The non-hero is, as a rule, the first victim of all sweeping historical changes, and yet seldom has he been the cause of them. He has never really comprehended [Page 37] the nature or the meaning of change. Passively suffering all the miseries and pains that the process of change has necessitated, the non-hero has seldom been able to transmit to his children enough of the new era’s blessings to make his travail meaningful. The Abbé Sieyès declared that in France the third estate was the nation. In history, the non-hero is Man. By billions, from the battles for the unification of Egypt to those for Viet Nam, non-heroes have suffered pains, deprivation, humiliation, and death from the hands of Pharaohs, priests, conquerors and would-be conquerors, landlords and tax collectors, commissars and fuehrers, and yet they created no image and left no imprint in history.

It is only since the last century that history has gradually and progressively become more personalized and conscious of the faces and the fates of the non-heroes. The invention of photography, and more particularly, motion pictures and television and their wide-range aplication in recording human events have opened up a new dimension in the study of the past. Matthew Brady was among the first to utilize the new medium of photography in giving a visual account of the Civil War and its impact on thousands of non-heroes. And the massive use of motion picture documentation during the twentieth century has brought home to the historian, professional and non-professional alike, the enormity of the suffering of the non-hero.

The slaughter of Verdun, the ferocity of the Spanish Civil War, the inhumanity of the second World War, the unspeakable crimes of Dachau and other concentration camps, the haggard and helpless faces of the unemployed during the Great Depression, as immortalized in motion pictures, will not permit man to forget the non-hero. There is a universal expression which gives a sense of unity to the fraternity of the sufferers and transcends time and space.

The blank and bewildered look, the sadness, and quiet resignation to fate provides an image which is the same whether expressed in the fact of a little Chinese girl left helpless in the midst of ruins in Shanghai, during a Japanese air attack, or the little Jewish boy with his hands up in surrender in a Warsaw Ghetto before a Nazi brute, or in the face of a two-year-old Vietnamese girl in her mother’s arms being rushed to an air-raid shelter. One can easily visualize the same expression in the faces of Egyptian children when the Hyksos crossed the Nile.

The process of reliving for the present and future historian cannot be contemplated without this awareness of the existence of the non-hero and his suffering. I do not believe that this consciousness will make man an angel overnight, but it will, I believe, help him to take a long step on his pilgrimage from the darkness of barbarity toward civilization. Social forces still will furnish the muscle, and individual ambition will still be the hand that writes history, but one can hope that a vivid image of the non-hero in the mind of man will exercise a restraining role in the employment of the means by which change will be brought about in the future.

[Page 38]

HARMONY OF SCIENCE AND RELIGION

By M. K. Yntema

Mary Kate Yntema, after a fifteen-year career as a secondary school teacher of mathematics, received her Ph.D. in 1965 at the University of Illinois. She begins a new career in September as Assistant Professor of Computer Science at Pennsylvania State University. She has traveled and worked in Europe and the Middle East. A Bahá’í since 1961, she has taught in Bahá’í summer schools and has served on a number of committees.

When considering a conflict, real or imaginary, between science and religion, many of us think of what might be called the classical conflict. This is exemplified in history by Galileo’s difficulties with the Church. The Church, through its temporal power, forced Galileo to deny in public what he had found by experiment to be physical fact. It did not, however, make him change his private opinion about the truth of that fact. The opposing attitudes in his classical conflict might be summarized in this way: the scientist refuses to acknowledge the authority of a religious organization in matters which are subject to actual physical experiment, and doubts its authority in any matter, if it insists on the falsity of what he knows by experiment to be true; the theologian feels that a scientific discovery which contradicts some part of the metaphysical structure built up by his religious organization may threaten not only that part, but the very foundations of the structure, and refuses even to consider the discovery.

The attitudes have gradually shifted so that now both positions have changed considerably for many scientists and theologians. The change has been so slow that many people not involved in the conflict do not realize that there are new attitudes.

In the days when Newtonian mechanics was considered by the physicist to be absolute truth, many scientists believed that science would eventually be able to explain all. A natural corollary to this belief was the rejection of the spiritual world. The spirit and things spiritual were thought of as superstitious inventions of man to explain the things he did not understand. Since science would eventually explain these for him, he should give up all that superstitious nonsense. When one considers some of the theological arguments of the Middle Ages, it is not difficult to sympathize with the scientists who considered religion nothing but nonsense.

Relativity and quantum mechanics have changed the scientist’s attitude towards established scientific ‘laws’. For example, he cannot completely describe both the position and the velocity of a single electron, and, to make matters worse, he has no hope of ever doing so. The more accurately he specifies one of these measurements the less he can say about the other. He has also grown accustomed to having ‘laws’ disproved and having to readjust his thinking almost overnight. In fact, the scientist has become skeptical of all ‘laws’. He expects today’s discovery to be rejected tomorrow. He now acknowledges no absolute truth in scientific results. So he may not acknowledge absolute truth in anything.

The scientist has also become versatile in his outlook. He can look at the same phenomenon in two contradictory ways. The physics of light is a fine example of this. At times the scientist considers light to be a stream of particles emitted from a source. This point of view gives a very good explanation of the fact that the orbit of the large balloon “Echo” has drifted away from the sun. The [Page 39] same scientist will turn around and explain refraction of light by saying light is composed of waves, not particles. The scientist has become used to this sort of mental gymnastics and uses the point of view that will help him in a particular problem. So he is no longer as critical of the theologian who uses outlooks different from his own.

Many religious groups have become more flexible with respect to the findings of science. They are more willing to accept scientific discoveries and admit that they may be aspects of truth. At the time of Darwin, Christendom was shocked by the idea of evolution. The Book of Genesis said that God made the world and all that is in it in six days. Therefore, gradual evolution of present day species from other forms is impossible. Now, many churches accept the idea of evolution and say that the Biblical story of Creation is symbolic.

The classical conflict is still waged among some individuals. However, more important today are the differences that can arise because of the scientist’s training in skepticism. If he cannot even have faith in the “laws” of his own discipline, he may have difficulty accepting religious teachings which are based on faith.

Bahá’ís feel that none of these differences or conflicts is necessary.

The fourth teaching of Bahá’u’lláh is the agreement of religion and science. God has endowed man with intelligence and reason whereby he is required to determine the verity of questions and propositions. If religious beliefs and opinions are found contrary to the standards of science they are mere superstitions and imaginations; for the antithesis of knowledge is ignorance, and the child of ignorance is superstition. Unquestionably there must be agreement between true religion and science. If a question be found contrary to reason, faith and belief in it are impossible and there is no outcome but wavering and vacillation.

In accordance with the Divine Teachings, the acquisition of sciences and the perfection of arts are considered as acts of worship. If a man engages with all his power in the acquisition of a science or in the perfection of an art, it is as if he has been worshiping God in the churches and temples.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá also said that scientific accomplishments are noble and praiseworthy. It is through science that man learns of the past and is able to link it to the present. Science enables him to “break” the laws of nature, to change and control nature for his own ends. Science can develop the virtues of mankind and through it the mysteries of God become manifest.

This attitude towards science is very different from that displayed by the Church in Galileo’s case. The idea that scientific work is worship is certainly new and reasonable, if, as Bahá’u’lláh says, the source of science is God.

Every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God is endowed with such potency as can instill new life into every human frame, if ye be of them that comprehend this truth. All the wondrous works ye behold in this world have been manifested through the operation of His supreme and most exalted Will, His wondrous and inflexible Purpose. Through the mere revelation of the word “Fashioner” issuing forth from His lips and proclaiming His attribute to mankind, such power is released as can generate, through successive ages, all the manifold arts which the hands of man can produce. This, verily, is a certain truth. No sooner is this resplendent word uttered, than its animating energies, stirring within all created things, give birth to the means and instruments whereby such arts can be produced and perfected. All the wondrous achievements ye [Page 40] now witness are the direct consequences of the Revelation of this Name. In the days to come, ye will, verily, behold things of which ye have never heard before.

and further,

The Prophets and Messengers of God have been sent down for the sole purpose of guiding mankind to the straight Path of Truth. The purpose underlying their revelation hath been to educate all men, that they may, at the hour of death, ascend, in the utmost purity and sanctity and with absolute detachment, to the throne of the Most High. The light which these souls radiate is responsible for the progress of the world and the advancement of its peoples. They are like unto leaven which leaveneth the world of being, and constitute the animating force through which the arts and wonders of the world are made manifest. Through them the clouds rain their bounty upon men, and the earth bringeth forth its fruits. All things must needs have a cause, a motive power, an animating principle. These souls and symbols of detachment have provided, and will continue to provide, the supreme moving impulse in the world of being.

In investigating agreement and disagreement of science and religion, one should consider their goals and methods as well as their results. As for goals, there is more agreement than is often realized. The goal of both science and religion is truth. One is more concerned with material truth and the other with spiritual truth, but these are not incompatible.

The emphasis in science is different from that in religion. The scientist endeavors to know the universe and its laws, or, as the religious person might say it, to understand God’s creation. He studies the physical world. He ignores spiritual aspects because they are not measurable. Religion, on the other hand, is concerned with spiritual matters, with the knowledge of God and His laws. From this point of view, the physical world, creation, is of secondary importance, the Creator is of primary importance.

Albert Einstein has described the relationship between these two apparently conflicting attitudes:

It is equally clear that knowledge of what is does not open the door directly to what should be. One can have the clearest and most complete knowledge of what is and yet not be able to deduce from that what should be the goal of our human aspirations. Objective knowledge provides us with powerful instruments for the achievements of certain ends, but the ultimate goal itself and the longing to reach it must come from another source . . . The knowledge of truth as such is wonderful, but it is so little capable of acting as a guide that it cannot prove even the justification and the value of the aspirant toward that very knowledge of truth.

But it must not be assumed that intelligent thinking can play no part in the formation of the goal and of ethical judgments. Intelligence makes clear to us that interrelation of means and ends. But mere thinking cannot give us a sense of the ultimate and fundamental ends. To make clear these fundamental ends and valuations, and to set them fast in the emotional life of the individual, seems to me precisely the most important function which religion has to perform in the social life of man. And if one asks whence derives the authority of such fundamental ends, since they cannot be stated and justified merely by reason, one can only answer: they exist in a healthy society as powerful traditions, which [Page 41] act upon the conduct and aspirations and judgments of the individuals; they are there, that is, as something living, without its being necessary to find justification for their existence. They come into being not through demonstration but through revelation, through the medium of powerful personalities. One must not attempt to justify them, but rather to sense their nature simply and clearly.

He also says:

Even though the realms of religion and science in themselves are clearly marked off from each other, nevertheless there exist between the two strong reciprocal relationships and dependencies. Though religion may be that which determines the goal, it has, nevertheless, learned from science, in the broadest sense, what means will contribute to the attainment of the goals it has set up. But science can only be created by those who are thoroughly imbued with the aspiration towards truth and understanding. This source of feeling, however, springs from the sphere of religion. Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.

The last quotation is amazingly like a statement made by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Paris in 1911:

Religion and science are the two wings upon which man’s intelligence can soar into the heights, with which the human soul can progress. It is not possible to fly with one wing alone! Should a man try to fly with the wing of religion alone he would quickly fall into the quagmire of superstition, whilst on the other hand, with the wing of science alone he would also make no progress, but fall into the despairing slough of materialism.

This seems to be one case in which a man of science and a man of religion were in complete agreement.

Although the goal of both religion and science is truth, they represent different methods of discovering truth. Religion is based on faith and revealed knowledge, science is based on experiment. They need not be contradictory.

Religion must welcome investigation. How else can its believers be sure of their faith? Since Bahá’u’lláh has told us that each individual must investigate truth for himself, this investigation becomes more important than ever.

The scientific method of investigation is just as applicable to religion as to science. The good scientist who performs an experiment must not refuse to believe his results, and he must not become so emotionally attached to a certain idea that he is unable to recognize results contradicting that idea. In other words he must conduct his experiments with detachment. In the Tablet of the True Seeker Bahá’u’lláh says the same thing of the religious investigator.

But, O my brother, when a true seeker determines to take the step of search in the path leading to the knowledge of the Ancient of Days, he must, before all else, cleanse and purify his heart, which is the seat of the revelation of the inner mysteries of God, from the obscuring dust of all acquired knowledge, and the illusions of the embodiments of satanic fancy. He must purge his breast, which is the sanctuary of the abiding love of the Beloved, of every defilement, and sanctify his soul from all that pertaineth to water and clay, from all shadowy and ephemeral attachments. He must so cleanse his heart that no remnant of either love or hate may linger therein, lest that love blindly incline him to error, or that hate repel him away from the truth.

[Page 42] When using the scientific method a scientist does not decide upon the truth or falsity of an hypothesis without trying it. He performs experiments to test the hypothesis. Just because an hypothesis sounds ridiculous, he has no scientific right to ignore it. The same is true whether that hypothesis is religious or scientific in nature. The person who rejects religion with the question, “Who ever heard of a peaceful world whose inhabitants live in mutual love?”, has not learned the lesson of modern science. A hundred years ago, who had heard of men traveling through the air or under the ocean, messages and pictures crossing continents with the speed of light, or earth satellites made by men?

It is easier to prove the existence of something than its non-existence. If we see or feel an object we are usually sure it exists. The more of our physical senses we can use on it, the surer we are of its existence. If we do not sense it, however, it may still exist. Scientists have proved the existence of atomic particles by noting their effects in a cloud chamber. If a trail appears in the mist, the scientist knows that a particle exists, although he has not seen the particle itself. If there are no trails, there may still be particles. Since spiritual existence is not physical, we cannot expect to prove it by our physical senses, but our inability to see or feel spiritual things does not prove their non-existence.

If the instruments of science cannot be used to test a religious hypothesis, it is reasonable to ask what can be used. The reasoning of science is still applicable. Is the hypothesis consistent with the basic assumptions of religion? Does it contradict accepted facts? If it does contradict such facts, can they be wrong? These are some of the questions a scientist asks about his hypotheses before he starts testing them in the laboratory. The last one is important, since scientific theories are changing so rapidly today.

For the actual methods of experimenting with a religious hypothesis, we must turn to religion itself. Prayer and meditation are suggested methods. The agnostic is at a disadvantage here. He might well say, “I’d feel silly praying to a non-existent God”, but if he wishes to make a real test of the hypothesis he has to take that chance. Bahá’u’lláh has said:

Who so reciteth, in the privacy of his chamber, the verses revealed by God, the scattering angels of the Almighty shall scatter abroad the fragrance of the words uttered by his mouth, and shall cause the heart of every righteous man to throb. Though he may, at first, remain unaware of its effect, yet the virtue of the grace vouchsafed unto him must needs sooner or later exercise its influence upon his soul.

Just as the methods of science can and should be used in religion, the methods of religion are pertinent to science. Actually science is built upon faith. The scientist has faith in the existence of law and order in the universe, and the ability of men to discover at least part of that law and order. Without this faith his work would be meaningless.

A scientist is often faced with the problem of how to test something, or how to explain something. Many scientists have told about working on such problems with little success, and then having the answer come to them, as if by inspiration, when they are doing something else. Religion teaches that inspiration is closely connected with prayer and meditation. So, maybe the methods of religion can help the scientist in solving his problems.

Throughout history there have been religious claims that have been rejected by some scientists on the grounds that they were not in accord with scientific fact. Miracles are good examples of such claims. The disagreement over miracles is probably the fault of both the over-eager religious person and the over-conservative [Page 43] scientist. The scientist should remember that often one physical law counteracts another, as magnetism can overcome gravity, and that there may be physical laws he does not know about, which have not yet been discovered. Conversely, the religious advocate of miracles should heed the words of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. He tells us that “they do not constitute proofs and evidences for all the people of the earth; and they are not decisive proofs even for those who see them.”

Another point to remember with respect to miraculous accounts in religious writings is that often difficult abstract concepts are explained in concrete terms. The parables of Christ are full of inner meanings beyond the simple statements of physical events. The story of a miracle may well be a symbolic explanation of spiritual truth.

Christian communion is an example of a spiritual idea being explained in terms of a miracle. The orthodox Christians speak of the miracle of communion and say that the bread and wine are turned into the flesh and blood of Jesus. A scientist might well be skeptical of this. He knows that the body of Jesus was composed of atoms, and that the communion bread and wine are also composed of atoms. He finds it hard to believe that the atoms of one suddenly become the atoms of the other. He also realizes that communion is held in all parts of the world and might wonder if the atoms of the body of Jesus could be so scattered. Another objection might be raised to a literal belief in communion. If the bread and wine do actually become the flesh and blood of Jesus, then communion becomes a cannibalistic rite. The thought of eating the body of a revered One is repulsive.

If communion is considered as a symbol, these objections disappear and the act takes on a new beauty. The important, enduring things of Christ were His teachings, and love was the central point of His teachings. So His body might be the symbol for love, and the act of a congregation eating together in loving unity could then be compared to partaking of the body of Christ.

Just as scientists have not always accepted the claims of religion, theologians have often ignored the findings of science. The example of evolution has already been mentioned. The theologians who refuse to consider the theory of evolution have forgotten that Biblical stories are often symbolic. They are also afraid that such a theory implies that man is no more than an animal.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá explains that the story of Creation in Genesis is indeed symbolic of the evolutionary growth of the world. He also says that man has always been more than an animal. Man evolved through many forms, but in each stage of his development he had within him the potential of becoming what he is and what he will be. This is like the seed of the tree which has the potential tree within it at all stages of its growth. The potential of man is what has always distinguished him from the animals, not his physical form.

Another theological objection to the theory of evolution is that if man evolved, he has not always been a perfect creation. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá assures us that Creation has always been perfect, and man the perfection of that creation. Man has not always been in the same form, but he has always been perfect. This may sound contradictory, but an example might make it clear. In looking at a beautiful, well-formed, intelligent child we think, “That is a perfect child,” but if the child did not develop beyond that childhood state, if it did not grow, it would no longer be perfect. It would become monstrous. Part of the perfection of the child is that it is growing and developing, it is evolving. Cannot the same be true of mankind?

This example shows that a theologian should not be an ostrich hiding from [Page 44] scientific discoveries. If the discoveries upset his metaphysical systems, he should re-examine those systems.

We have seen that science and religion are both necessary to man. Their aims are the same. They are both ways of finding truth but approach it from different sides. Their findings should not be contradictory, and, if they are, they should be re-examined in light of each other.

Any religious belief which is not conformable with scientific proof and investigation is superstition, for true science is reason and reality, and religion is essentially reality and pure reason; therefore the two must correspond. Religious teaching which is at variance with science and reason is human invention and imagination unworthy of acceptance, for the antithesis and opposite of knowledge is superstition born of the ignorance of man. If we say religion is opposed to science we either lack knowledge of true science or true religion, for both are founded upon the premises and conclusions of reason and both must bear its test.

FOOTNOTES

THE ONLY THING PURE WATER SAYS IS ‘AND’

by William Stafford

Just listen to the river, its long story

dragged all summer over the earth: “There are

things I could tell, and then at the last

those terrible deserts in the south.”

(Water is the river’s prejudice.)

A river can reason with anything, the way

I’d be if I knew enough. But the deserts

back of my story mean more than just “and,”

and at crucial times my voice breaks off.

William Stafford has appeared before in these pages (WORLD ORDER, Summer 1967); he teaches English at Lewis and Clark College. His poetry has been widely published and has won many awards.

[Page 45]

THE ESSENTIAL EUSEBIUS by Colm Lúibhéid. A Mentor-Omega Book, published by the New American Library, New York and Toronto. 236 pp. (Paperback)

By Howard Garey

In 313 A.D. Constantine declared Christianity the religion of the Roman Empire. Thus there came to an end the several centuries of uncertainty during which the status of Christians varied between that of a despised sect of dangerous non-conformists of less than doubtful loyalty to the state, and a favored religion, enjoying the benefits of an official policy of religious toleration, sometimes on a par with other religions, and sometimes even enjoying a specially privileged position. More important to many Christians, however, was the conviction that the Kingdom of God on earth had finally been instituted. Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea was a witness of many of the political and theological events leading up to this triumphant moment. In his own lifetime he had seen the cruellest persecutions of his coreligionists, and the ultimate victory of his religion. He was, moreover, trained as a scholar, and was well acquainted with the most important documents of the history of his faith, as well as with eye-witnesses of some of the great and tragic moments in that history. It seems to a reader of the twentieth century a great privilege to be permitted to glimpse through the eyes of Eusebius the history of the early church; it is doubtful if a more highly qualified historian existed at the time to give us this account; and it is sure that the time was right for a summation of the life of the church to that moment.

This history is of special interest to the Bahá’í reader; Bahá’ís are wont to mention the analogy between the early years of our faith whose history we are now living and the early years of that faith which came into being almost two thousand years ago. It is impressive for us to think of ourselves as the contemporaries of the earliest church fathers, and only two generations removed from the Apostles. This is why the testimony of an early Christian (even though not as ‘early’ as we, who are early second-century Bahá’ís, as compared with the relatively late fourth-century Eusebius) can be so stirring to a Bahá’í: Who knows what we shall find here of special value, what warnings of pit-falls, what models of martyrdom, what exemplars of true piety, what stirring instances of the practical efficacy of politics in the service of religion? Eusebius’s account has recently been made accessible to every reader in the edition under review. The translation is lucid, the introduction very useful both with respect to historical background and to religious interpretation. But let us look at the book from the point of view of the Bahá’í who expects to find in it matter for the encouragement of the historical and religious analogy to which I have alluded.

There are indeed many striking resemblances in the two situations. The most important, obviously, is in the near identity of the doctrines taught by the respective Founders. If we read this story as if we had no source on Christianity but Eusebius, forgetting for the moment that we have ourselves read the New Testament, we cannot but be struck by the very things that Eusebius emphasizes as being central to the Christian doctrine. He makes it very clear that Christ brought the religion of the Hebrews to the Gentiles; that other peoples had followed a pleasure-principle as their only guide to conduct, a principle which led, paradoxically to their enslavement rather than to the freedom of the individual which it seemed to promise, a principle which the Hebrews had rejected in favor of subjection to the will of the Creator; for they recognized in the creation itself no mindless spontaneous cause. Of these Hebrews Eusebius says (38): “They were thought worthy of being called a chosen and royal race, a priestly caste of God and a holy people, and they left to their descendants a seed of that piety which is true.”

Entirely in harmony with this line of reasoning, Eusebius makes it quite clear that Christianity is intended not to destroy Judaism but to fulfill it; in his own words (39): “Christianity is neither a kind of Hellenism nor a kind of Judaism, but has its [Page 46] own characteristic doctrine. It is neither new nor outlandish. Rather is it something very old, something familiar and known to the men of God who lived in the days before Moses and who are remembered for their piety and their justice.”

We can recognize in this statement something of our own view of the Faith as an ancient inheritance and yet a religion in its own right. In order to do this, Eusebius pursues a course much like our own: Religion, it appears, is older than any religion; there were righteous men before Moses, by Moses’s own statement. Now, asks Eusebius, were these men Jews or Greeks (translated to slightly more modern terms, Greeks becomes Gentiles)? They were not Jews, he says, because they existed before the institution of the Mosaic law, and Judaism is defined by Eusebius as adherence to that law; and yet they are not Greeks because they are not “under the superstitious yoke of polytheism” (40). “If then they stood aloof from the error of idolatry and were also outside the realm of Judaism, nevertheless, though born neither Greeks nor Jews, they are certainly remembered as godly men, pious and just” (41). The ensuing argument is familiar to Bahá’ís, separating, as it does, or almost does, the eternal part of the message from that part which is bound to the culture of an epoch, to the traditions of a people, and to the limitations of human understanding. In Eusebius’s own words,

One must therefore deduce a third way of piety by which they were seemingly guided. Would not this be the ideal which I have shown to exist midway between Judaism and Hellenism, a very ancient and indeed the oldest one of all, one newly proclaimed to all peoples by our Savior? I mean Christianity. It is a form neither of Hellenism nor of Judaism, but lies between them and is the oldest kind of organized piety. It is the most ancient road of wisdom, yet it has only recently been established as a law for men of all the world. Thus the Christian convert from Hellenism does not arrive at Judaism, nor again does the person wishing to abandon the Jewish worship become a Greek forthwith. From whichever side he comes, whether from Hellenism or Judaism, he comes to that intermediate law and way of life which lay dormant for a long time and was raised anew by our Savior and Lord in accordance with the forecast of Moses and the other prophets who spoke of these things.

With incontrovertible logic, Eusebius now bores into the main point: the Religion of God is for all men, but Judaism is only for Jews; Jews, that is, defined as that people to whom Moses gave “a certain corporate status which was based on the laws provided by him” (42). Nevertheless, the religion of God is for all men, God having said to Abraham, according to Moses: “Abraham shall become a great and plentiful nation, and all the nations of the earth will be blessed in him” (41). Anticipating the modern doctrine of racial unity, Eusebius asks: “How could all the nations and tribes be blessed in Abraham if no relationship of either a spiritual or a physical nature existed between them? For what possible physical relationship could exist between Abraham and the Scythians, the Egyptians, and the Ethiopians, Indians, Britons, and Spaniards? The spiritual relationship is just as impossible, considering the abominable practices to which pagans have always given themselves up. Considering all this, one would expect that the Mosaic law would be applicable to all peoples, so that the whole world could worship God and live according to Judaism, to which they would have been brought by the law” (42). But it is easily demonstrated that the law applied in the most literal way only to those people who lived near enough to Jerusalem to perform the rites imposed on them by the law of Moses three times a year. Therefore, “a different way, a way distinct from the law of Moses, needed to be established, one by which the nations of the earth might live as Abraham had so that they could receive an equal share of blessing with him” (42). Moses himself predicted that another would come, who “will rule over all nations, and his kingdom will be glorified” (42).

Thus, there appears to be practical identity between the Bahá’í view of progressive revelation and Eusebius’s conception of the Christian Church as having existed from the beginning of time, having been [Page 47] not introduced, but reestablished by Jesus in Palestine.

To lend validity to his view, he must prove that Jesus was, in fact, an accredited Messenger of God. For it is of the greatest moment to be able to distinguish between true and false prophets. Again we find a not surprising similarity in the proofs adduced by Eusebius and by the modern Bahá’í: If the claim of the alleged prophet is not true, then he is either lying or mistaken; if lying, he is a charlatan; if mistaken, about a matter of such great import, and about which a sane man would hardly be mistaken, he must indeed be mad. But he is not a charlatan, for he gained no material advantage for himself, whether in money or power—and history abounds with examples of religious charlatans, whose behavior is very unlike that of either of the prophets in question here. Eusebius mentions Simon the Magician; we have examples in our own day of men who profit from credulity and the need for faith. And if he was mad, would his teachings have been so sound, his life so exemplary? As a matter of fact, the rightness of his doctrines and works can be employed as a refutation of either allegation. If, then, he is neither charlatan nor madman, his claim must be taken seriously. It would not be appropriate here to present a more detailed account of Eusebius’s numerous and subtle arguments; but they are none the less worthy of one’s attention.

It is interesting that Eusebius does not allow his argument to depend on miracles, which used to constitute a favorite weapon in the arsenal of missionaries—interesting, as we look for similarities between Eusebius and the Bahá’ís, in view of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s disdain of this particular form of persuasion. In Some Answered Questions, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said that miracles are witnessed by too few and are generally not susceptible of proof; they can always be dismissed by the skeptical as a trick, and in any case the material miracle teaches us much less than the spiritual miracle of changing the lives of millions for the better. Eusebius stresses the miracles of healing recounted of Christ, and of course the supreme miracle of his death and resurrection. But there is, at least in this abridged version of his writings, no mention of the changing of water to wine, of the stilling of a storm, or of walking on water.

There is in the historical situation a great difference between Jesus and Bahá’u’lláh: that of the possibility of authentication of events. In the case of the latter, here are many accounts by non-Bahá’ís: Browne, the Dolgurukov papers (see WORLD ORDER, Vol. I, no. 1), etc. Eusebius has the problem of basing his beliefs on the allegation of a relatively small group of fervent believers; there is practically no independent corroboration of the events narrated by them. Thus he must make his argument turn on the credibility of these believers. In this connection, he writes:

Is there any possible reason for suspecting that men who had listened to doctrines of this kind [prescribing the highest moral behavior], men indeed who were themselves the purveyors of these teachings, should invent all that they asserted to have been accomplished by the Master? How could one believe that the decision to lie was agreed upon by the twelve who had been especially chosen, and by the remaining seventy whom Christ is said to have sent two by two before His face into every place and region where he planned to go Himself? No argument can show that so many men were frauds, men who embraced a holy and exalted way of life, who set no value on their own affairs, and who, disregarding their dearest ones—wives, children, and all their family—undertook to be poor and to bring to all men as from one source a consistent account of their Master.

In this way Eusebius applies the argument for authenticity of prophethood to authenticity of discipleship, and through that to the sincerity of their accounts of the life of Jesus. The sincerity of these accounts having been established, the consistency of the accounts of so many men is invoked as demonstration of their truth.

The argument is a good one, and, in the absence of objective corroboration, a necessary one, for Eusebius’s purposes. In modern times some doubt has been cast on some of his premises—it is considered possible, for example, that the tradition had quite well crystallized before being set down on paper, and that the relatively high degree of consistency from Gospel to [Page 48] Gospel can be attributed to the general acceptance by Christians of the main lines of these traditions. One would not like to go to extremes in maintaining either of these views—a compromise is possible without offense to reason.

As we read on, we begin to become aware of disturbing departures in Eusebius’s story from Bahá’í principles. The non-Bahá’í reader may well ask himself at this point what kind of anachronistic nonsense this is? Why should Eusebius stick to Bahá’í principles, of all things? Well, I must answer, if all Religion is one, having been brought to the human race by a succession of Manifestations—and this is the Bahá’í premise, as well, it appears, as Eusebius’s—such a deviation is either a demonstration of the falsity of that premise; or of a misunderstanding on the part of a non-divinely appointed interpreter of the message of a Manifestation; or finally a genuine difference between messages of genuine Manifestations, a difference in the time- and culture-bound component of the divine message. These last differences are generally obvious: The obligations to observe dietary restrictions or to perform certain rituals are characteristic of the provisional portion of the message—the constant part is that which prescribes moral attitudes and behavior. And it is precisely in the latter domain that Eusebius shows such remarkable contrasts with the Bahá’í way of living.

There are two such areas of disagreement. They may be more due to personal characteristics of Eusebius than characteristic of early Christian doctrine—but before commenting on them further, let us examine them. The first is a fierce vengefulness, which one does not associate with the gentle Jesus, but which foreshadows in a sinister way the religious strife which was to become almost as characteristic of Christianity in practice as is Christian love. As the story of the Church progresses, there is a corresponding change in Eusebius’s attitude toward the Jews—at first the people of God, they become the Enemy. It is with palpable glee that he recounts the misfortunes of the Jews during their disastrous wars with the Romans. In this struggle for independence he sees, unlike Josephus, who is his source, no heroism, but rather the just punishment of the deniers of Christ. Unwittingly Eusebius alludes to the pathetic history of the first Christians—the Jews who believed in Christ. His hatred of the Jews takes on ethnic overtones as he condemns the few remaining Jewish Christians, presumably the descendants of the first followers of Jesus, who were caught between the Old Law, which Jesus had never expressly revoked, and the New, adapted to the needs of Gentiles, for their perseverance in the “impiety” of “literal observance of the law” (114). His account of the misfortunes of the Jews is long, detailed, and bloody, and his insistence that these misfortunes are punishment for their sins is as steadfast as his conviction that the sufferings of the martyrs are a reward for virtue.

The Bahá’í literature contains references or perhaps more accurately suggestions of divine punishment. In Shoghi Effendi’s God Passes By and in other books of Bahá’í inspiration, mention is made of the horrible fates which overtook Napoleon III, the Czar and his family, and other monarchs who ignored the Tablets to the Kings of Bahá’u’lláh and persisted in their selfish and oppressive paths. But there is no hint of vengeful delight, even in these instances, and certainly never as concerns whole peoples.

Our second observation has to do with the identification of those who are worthy of divine wrath—for as we have seen, divine punishment is distinguishable from blissful martyrdom largely on the basis of who it is who is suffering misfortune. The wrath of Eusebius seems to be directed most particularly against those whose theological doctrines differ in whatsoever degree from his own. Basing himself on Irenaeus’s Against the Heresies, he describes the doctrine of a certain Cerdo, as follows:

“He taught that the God announced by the law and the prophets was not the Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. He asserted that the one was known, the other unknown. One was just, the other was good. Marcion of Pontus followed him and promoted the school with his shameless blasphemy.”

The same Irenaeus firmly exposed the bottomless pit of Valentinus’ system with its numerous errors, and he uncovered the secret and hidden wickedness which lurked therein like a reptile. He says in [Page 49] addition that there was another man in those days who bore the name of Mark and was very skilled in magical tricks. He writes too of their initiation ceremonies, which could not initiate, and of their foul mystery rites. These he expounds in the following terms: “Some of them construct a marriage chamber and celebrate a mystery with certain invocations on the initiates. They claim they are performing a spiritual marriage resembling the union above. Others bring them to water and baptize them with this invocation: ‘By the unknown father of the universe; by truth, the mother of all things; by him who descended unto Jesus.’ Others utter Hebrew names in order to awe the initiates more fully” (125-6).

There is more here than the mere lack of objectivity; there is something more akin to rigging, to logical sharp practise. The same objective phenomena are called by different names according to the necessity for a pejorative or an ameliorative term; as we noted for punishment and martyrdom, there is a similar distinction between miracle and magical trick. A difference in theological interpretation is equated with moral turpitude; a ceremony resembling marriage evokes disgust, whereas one resembling cannibalism does not. Need I remind the reader of the Bahá’í attitudes on these points: God being essentially unknowable, no one has the right to impose a detailed theology on any one else, although discussion of such matters is perfectly legitimate—as long as it does not lead to strife. Bahá’u’lláh said of religion: “Make it not a means for disagreement and discord!” (Bahá’í World Faith, p.201). Again: “Show forth that which ye possess. If it is accepted, the aim is attained; if not, interference with those who reject it is not allowable. . . . Be not the cause of sorrow, how much less of sedition and strife!” (ibid.) Quotations in this spirit could be multiplied almost indefinitely.

One of the most delicate matters in a religious organization is that of securing agreement of the whole community on important matters. Readers of this magazine have become acquainted with the Bahá’í principle of consultation; this quotation from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá will illustrate the attitude of Bahá’ís toward the manner of resolving differences and coming to an understanding:

They . . . must confer and consult in such a way that neither disagreement nor abhorrence may occur. When meeting for consultation, each must use perfect liberty in stating his views and unveiling the proof of his demonstration. If another contradicts him, he must not become excited because if there be no investigation or verification of questions and matters, the agreeable view will not be discovered neither understood. The brilliant light which comes from the collision of thoughts is the ‘lightener’ of facts.

If all views are in harmony at the end of a conference, it will be excellent; but if, God forbid! disagreement occurs, then the decision must be according to the greater number in harmony (Bahá’í World Faith, p. 406).

Specifically forbidden in other passages of Bahá’í writings is the predominance of pride in consultation; one should not enter into consultation with the intention of winning his point, come what may, but with that of collaborating in a sincere effort to arrive at the best decision.

Eusebius could have profited from the knowledge of these principles. The last document presented in the edition under review is his letter to the Church at Caesarea. In it he makes his report to his community on the famous Council of Nicaea, at which the Creed was hammered out, with assistance and pressure from Emperor Constantine. Eusebius was in a delicate position, in that the creed sponsored by his community was, if not wholly Arian, at least not inconsistent with Arianism. So it was that he went to Nicaea with a certain commitment. His letter describes the doctrinal difficulties, the wording of the Caesarean creed, the modification suggested by Constantine (the addition of the word consubstantial), the special interpretation given to that word by Constantine, which enabled Eusebius to accept it. But to return to the question of contrast with the spirit of consultation, let us read the last paragraph of the letter to Caesarea:

My dear friends, I thought it necessary to write this to you so that you might see how I weighed everything with a careful judgment and how to the [Page 50] very last hour I was firm in my resistance to such formulae as were different from mine. But I did not quarrel about accepting what was not displeasing to me, as soon as the meaning of the words was made clear to me and when it seemed to agree with the beliefs professed by me in the Creed which I had introduced (220).

And so was well launched the history of religious disputes which have plagued the world for so long.

How can we account for these crucial differences in what are, in Bahá’í theory, variations on the same eternal message? In the first place, and most obviously, Eusebius is not a Manifestation of God in the sense in which Jesus was. His religion was, like the Bahá’í Faith, for the whole world, not for a specific ethnic group, as had been most religions to his time. But the world was drawing together, communication between the parts of it was relatively good; for several hundred years the Roman Empire had represented a blending of races, cultures and religions, and an efficient political and military organization unprecedented in the world. A number of religions, each of them originating in and tied to a particular locality, were in competition for the station of a state religion, an ecclesiastical organization which would parallel the secular administration. The opportunity was not to be lost; the temptation to join forces with the temporal authority was welcomed rather than resisted. According to Ferdinand Lot, this moment was at once the making of the Church as a political organization and its downfall as an expression of disinterested moral and religious principles.

The situation today is similar. Again the world is small and interdependent; but this time it is the whole world, not just the Mediterranean littoral. Again it is on the verge of fragmentation; but this time, physically, as well as socially and politically. The need for unity is as urgent as it was in Eusebius’s time, but there is no one temporal force which organized religion can use as a vehicle to arrive at unity. Moreover, the Christian example has shown the danger of involvement with politics. Bahá’u’lláh has made clear the prerequisites for the establishment of a world government based on principles of love and justice; until such prerequisites are realized, Bahá’ís must continue their policy of the pursuit of friendship and concord within the framework of existing governmental institutions; the annihilation of race prejudice, which was not a problem in Eusebius’s day, must be assured, if world peace is to prevail; principles of social and racial justice, of equality of the sexes, of intercultural understanding and appreciation, must become part of the world’s cultural scene. This is why the dog-eat-dog policy of violent confrontation of opposing views and interests as practised from the beginning of history, carried forward by the early Church, as Eusebius testifies, continued to the present day in struggles between nations, between social classes, labor and industry, doctors’ societies and social services of the government, must give way to the positive search for peace on all levels of living, and why the Bahá’í Faith has had to build into its organization safeguards against the schisms, the heresies, the witch-hunts, the persecutions which in the past have been inseparable from the sincere promotion of religion. The “world” to which the message of Jesus went out was, indeed, wider than the confines of the Jewish world of its origin, and His message was therefore unique as a religion intended for a wider world than the ethnic one of its Founder; but the present World is at once much larger and much smaller than His; and the new Manifestation has stated the conditions under which religion will prevail if the world itself is to continue its existence.

[Page 51]

THE SLAVE AND THE IRON LACE

by Margaret Danner

The craving of Samuel Rouse for clearance to create

was surely as hot as the iron that buffeted him. His passion

for freedom so strong that it molded the smouldering fashions

he laced, for how also could a slave plot

or counterplot such incomparable shapes,

form or reform, for house after house,

the intricate Patio pattern, the delicate

Rose and Lyre, the Debutante Settee,

the complex but famous Grape; frame the classic vein

in an iron bench?

How could he turn an iron Venetian urn, wind the Grape Vine, chain

the trunk of a pine with a Round-the-Tree-settee,

mold a Floating Flower tray, a French chair—create all this

in such exquisite fairyland taste, that he’d be freed

and his skill would still resound a hundred years after?

And I wonder if I, with this thick asbestos glove of an

attitude could lace, forge and bend this ton of lead-chained

spleen surrounding me?

Could I manifest and sustain it into a new free-form screen

of, not necessarily love, but (at the very least, for all

concerned) grace.

Margaret Danner, a native of Chicago, has studied at Loyola University and the University of Chicago. She has received a number of awards, including the Harriet Tubman Award, an award from the American Society for African Culture, and a John Hay Whitney Fellowship in creative writing. In 1956 she was appointed Assistant Editor of Poetry, and in 1960 she became the first Poet-in-Residence at Wayne University. Her work has appeared in Poetry, The Negro Digest, Clear Views, and other periodicals, as well as in two anthologies, Beyond the Blues (London, 1962) and American Negro Poetry (New York, 1963).

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