Spring, 2019
I have long been a seeker of the Big Picture. My mother told me that my first sentence – uttered in New York City around 1950 – was a question: “What’s this?” And she said I repeated this question over and over when faced with new things and activities. “What’s this?.. and this?… and this?” I remember early discussions with my mother – perhaps from age 5 to 7 – about how plants differ from rocks… how animals differ from plants… how humans differ from animals… and how God differs from humans. These were my earliest philosophical and theological explorations into the levels of reality, and my initial ponderings about human nature and what lies beyond. There is a photo of me in our family album, sitting in a small rocking chair and fishing in a bucket. I remember enjoying this activity – despite not catching any real fish, only symbolic fish – for it was a time to think about questions, conditions, people and events in my early life.
Religious, cultural and psychological diversity was built into my upbringing. My father Bernie had a German-Russian Jewish background, and became a scientist specializing in organic chemistry. His orientation was rather rational and objective. From Dad I learned to respect the complexities of nature and society, to study systematically, and to never conclude that we understand any phenomena completely. My prayer for him is that “he may plunge into the sea of light in the world of mysteries.” (Baha’i Prayers, p 42) My mother Mary had a Spanish-Catholic background, with some literary and mystical leanings, and became a social worker. Her orientation was more relational and intuitive. From Mom I learned the importance of appreciating the distinct gifts of all people, finding common ground, and maintaining constructive relations. My prayer for her is that God “cause her to be admitted into His heavenly mansion.” (Baha’i Prayers, p 46)
My sister Debi, four years younger, might describe herself as ‘spiritual but not religious’, and she became a dedicated, skillful public school teacher with notable interests in art and drama. My sister Cory, eight years younger, became a committed Latter-Day Saint, with strong craft-making, writing and musical abilities. In my adolescent years my sisters introduced me to their friends, saying, “Meet my brother Harold – he’s intellectual, but not very smart.” It is true that I have usually shown more signs of theoretical intelligence than practical know-how. The wide range of beliefs and activities in my family made for intense interactions and occasional conflict. I tried timidly to be a peacemaker, but with minimal results. Yet we had a goodly share of love and joy, of learning and celebration in our family, along with a typical share of tensions and challenges.
My mixed parentage and upbringing, along with my desire to grasp the Big Picture ever more comprehensively, led to an interest in philosophy and religion. My high school English teacher – in Dallas, Texas – introduced us to Will Durant’s “The Story of Philosophy”, assigning me to give our class a short talk on Spinoza (though I would have preferred Plato or Aristotle). To my pleasant surprise, I did reasonably well at this. At Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, I decided to major in philosophy and psychology with a minor in sociology. I made a life-long friend at TCU, Ted Coonfield, who later became an effective organizational consultant and a community builder. In college he altered my lifestyle by challenging me to apply my ideals in the real world, starting with dorm and campus activities, as well as the social justice issues of our day.
After my undergraduate years, I moved to South Texas, and participated in a Teacher Corps program – working and studying with an energetic, idealistic team, attempting to bring innovative education to poor Mexican-American migrant children, while pursuing a graduate degree. In those days, Education became something of a ‘Religion’ for me, a calling, a way to lift up a portion of humanity, empowering them to fulfill their higher capacities and make positive contributions to society.
During my Teacher Corps days I discovered a Unitarian fellowship, becoming active in this congregation as a speaker. Its principle of ‘unity-in-diversity’ struck me as a divine clue about the universe and the human condition, and a sense of calling began to emerge for me. Liberal causes such as improving race relations and world peace were added to my ongoing concerns. One Sunday morning, two Baha’i women spoke at my Unitarian fellowship, bringing a message of gender and racial equality while emphasizing global cooperation, and I was very impressed with this, my first glimpse of Baha’i principles of ‘world unity’.
In the early 1970s I avoided the military draft and the Vietnam War through an ‘occupational deferment’ for my Teacher Corps work. My Unitarian fellowship experience led me to a broader sense of vocation. I entered a seminary, Starr King School for Religious Leadership in Berkeley, California in 1971. I sought training both as a religious educator and as a parish minister, feeling called to combine the religious quest with the imperative need of global education. Besides Unitarian history, Christian history, theology, Bible studies and congregational dynamics, I studied comparative religions. My concept of the Big Picture was growing by leaps and bounds. These were exciting but not anxiety-free days for me, full of many internal and external hurdles to surmount. My ordination took place in 1976.
During my seminary years, I lived and worked on a kibbutz in Israel for a summer. This was an opportunity to explore the Jewish and Christian sides of my soul, and to experience a communal form of socialism, while socializing with European and North American volunteers. There in Israel I stumbled on the Baha’i World Center in Haifa, reminding me of that Baha’i talk I heard at a Unitarian fellowship in Texas. After reading a pamphlet describing the Baha’i Faith, I again came away with a very positive impression. It seemed to be a high-minded commitment to global harmony – yet another affirmation of unity-in-diversity. I noted in my journal that evening: “Some day Unitarians and Baha’is will merge.” This ‘merging’ would take place in my soul sooner than in the world at large.
After serving as a religious education director and youth minister for 6 years in Berkeley, California, I accepted the call to serve a Unitarian fellowship in Moscow, Idaho. I lived and ministered there for 9 years, where I also earned a master’s degree in philosophy, while teaching courses on philosophy of religion, ethics and logic. Again, my concept of the Big Picture expanded, especially given my responsibility of offering sermons to a very well-educated congregation. We grew from a fellowship of about 50 members to a church with about 120 members. Among my main concerns during this phase of my career were congregational development and community outreach, trying to give parishioners and students a sense of constructive direction and hope, the pursuit of peace and justice, discerning a fair and positive Big Picture, as well as a deeper commitment to lifelong learning while contributing to society and humanity. Though generally feeling I was doing reasonably well at these activities, I frequently suffered from an acute sense of inadequacy: “The ocean is so big, and my boat is so small.”
I also met some Baha’is in Moscow, Idaho – around 1985 – through my interest in interfaith understanding and cooperation, but I did not study Baha’i teachings at this time. I still saw myself as firmly aligned with the liberal wing of the Judeo-Christian heritage, and actively adapting it to contemporary concerns. A biblical passage I frequently pondered during these years was: “Lord… teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom”. (Psalm 90) I wanted to use my time well and make constructive contributions, while fending off periodic self doubts, relationship anxieties, and occasional despair for the plight of the world.
Another revelatory message that became important to me at this time was the story from ancient India called “The Blind Men and the Elephant.” Even now, nearly four decades later, I can hardly pass a day when I do not contemplate some aspect of this story. Each blind man’s description of the Elephant would be limited by his experience. “The Elephant is like a tree trunk… a wall… a hose… a pot… a rope… a ploughshare… a fan…” The blind men could quarrel about the nature of the Elephant. Or they could listen to each other’s truths and consult about them, gradually working their way closer to discerning the Truth about the Reality of the Elephant. So it is with humanity’s belief-systems, religions, cosmologies, sciences, philosophies, fields of expertise, ideologies, lifestyles, as well as our social, cultural, historical, political and economic outlooks. We should integrate the experiences and truths of others as well as we can, building ever greater understanding and unity.
I counted among my strengths: learning, teaching, writing, summarizing, empowering parishioners and students, project planning, and community outreach. And I counted among my weaknesses: the practicalities of household economics, technology, the business and procedural aspects of secular society, as well as relationship and intimacy dynamics. I evaluated my preaching ability as ranging from mediocre to moderately inspiring, but in any case, certainly below the level of my teaching ability.
Approaching my fortieth year, a certain restlessness and a desire to step into larger arenas led me to Vancouver, Canada – where I served the North Shore Unitarian Church from 1987 to 2000, becoming a dual-citizen. During this period I experienced many highs and lows. The adjustment to Canadian life and a metropolitan area were more challenging than expected. Within 5 years I was married and divorced. Most of my emotional difficulties were in plain view of my congregation, and I felt extremely vulnerable. I could easily have been asked by my congregation to leave, making space for a more mature and stable minister. But somehow, I endured this turbulent trial.
About a year later I began a longer and more stable ‘common law’ relationship, helping me to recover. But these early years in Canada were the most stressful period of my life, when my emotional weaknesses loomed large and my self judgment reached its greatest extreme. Thankfully, I received a great deal of caring support from friends and family, from colleagues and congregation, and was able to weather the storm, regaining my emotional and professional equilibrium. During my years on the North Shore of the Vancouver area, the congregation grew from about 150 members to 220.
In my ministry I ventured into the fields of adult religious education, multiculturalism, and interfaith dialogue with considerable vigor. I organized several public forums on local and global issues, trying to broaden worldviews and catalyze constructive action on social justice causes. Some of my sabbatical projects included travel across Canada and to England, writing on intercultural and interfaith cooperation, as well as on Big Picture universal questions: Who or What is ultimate?… Why are we here?… How can we distinguish better and worse?… How are we made whole?… What is the meaning of life and death? Among my other concerns at this time were: preventing divisive factions from developing within my congregation, improving my sermons, keeping abreast of new learning and global developments, nurturing collegial connections, and expanding the program offerings and outreach initiatives of my church. Overall there was harmony and growth in my congregation in the 1990s.
During the early years of my ministry in Vancouver I met several Baha’is, and due to their encouragement, began a systematic study of the Baha’i Faith – including its teachings, practices, history and community life. Among my teachers was Sandra Azizi, a very respected advisor of the local Baha’i community, and Manu Majzub, an architect and city planner with considerable international teaching experience. With great caring, skill and patience, these lovely souls deepened my understanding of the Baha’i Revelation, while introducing me to many members of their families and communities.
My view of the Big Picture now began to integrate the Baha’i concept of the essential oneness of religion though the ages. I lost my first two Baha’i teachers, Sandra and Manu, during the first two decades of my Baha’i life. May their souls “plunge into the sea of light in the world of mysteries… and… be admitted into the heavenly mansion.”
(Baha’i Prayers, pp 42, 46) But in the mid-1990s, under their positive influence, I started visiting the Baha’i bookstore every few weeks, absorbing my newly purchased literature, and attending fireside discussions, devotionals, talks on progressive revelation and world history, as well as lectures by visiting notables from the larger Baha’i world.
Among the books I studied at this time were Hatcher and Martin’s “The Baha’i Faith: The Emerging Global Religion” (offering a well-rounded portrayal of this religion and its place in history); John Kolstoe’s “Consultation: The Lamp of Guidance” (a detailed description of Baha’i methods of truth-discernment and decision-making); Howard Colby Ives’ “Portals to Freedom” (describing the impact of a Unitarian minister’s encounter with Abdul-Baha); George Townshend’s “Christ and Baha’u’llah” (showing how the Christian Faith as revealed by Jesus is prophetically fulfilled by Baha’u’llah); Abdul-Baha’s “Some Answered Questions” and “Paris Talks” (providing Western-friendly accounts of the main principles and applications of the new Faith, while showing how biblical prophecies point to the Baha’i Faith); as well as Baha’u’llah’s “Hidden Words” (a powerful distillation of universal moral guidance and mystical gems), and His “Book of Certitude” (a persuasive account of progressive revelation, a new paradigm for our world’s religious history and future development).
Another significant stepping-stone in my growing attraction to the Baha’i Faith came during my work on a youth interfaith forum held in my church. Panelists, ages 15-17, representing several religious traditions spoke on how young people could help build a more peaceful and just world. In this forum, the youth presentation I found most consistent with my own worldview was not – to my shock – that of the Unitarian Universalist. Rather, I found the most true and inspiring vision to be that of the Baha’i youth, Ashley Roberts, now a respected pediatrician. Her emphasis on Divine unity, the oneness of humanity, the common ground of religions and cultures, as well as the importance of youth service in a world losing its ideals – all this had a profound impact on me, shifting my image of the Big Picture and clarifying the direction of my spiritual growth.
Now let me try to describe the inner perplexities and turbulence that emerged for me, looking both backward and forward. What were my worldview and spiritual orientation before my serious investigation of the Baha’i Faith? And how were my understanding and activity changed by this encounter? Here I will only touch on a few key features of my shifting view of the Big Picture and my personal transformation.
As a Unitarian Universalist minister I was searching for ways to make our world a better place. Ethics seemed prior to theology for me, and I was highly pluralistic in my approach to religious, cultural and political differences. “We all share universal truths and abiding values, and we need not think alike to love alike” I frequently said. Calling myself a theistic humanist, I believed in God as a benevolent cosmic force, but emphasized human dignity and capacity. I viewed Jesus as a human exemplar of the Divine Spirit, but not as God Incarnate. Nor did I embrace Revelation (with a capital ‘R’) – the view that God discloses in written words and sacred texts His will and purpose for humanity. I embraced revelation and inspiration (small ‘r’ and ‘i’) – the view that all of history, religion, science, literature, art and personal experience can serve as revelatory and inspirational for individuals and communities.
In other words I believed in the availability of universal wisdom and the need for a more active ethic of service. When I pondered the state of the world, it appeared in need of interfaith understanding and cooperation, as well as a deeper commitment to peace, justice and earthcare. Yet I found that the interfaith movement lacked cohesion and transformative influence. Some aspects of new age spirituality seemed well-intentioned, but it too seemed hopelessly diverse and institutionally powerless. The widening gap between rich and poor felt intolerable, especially since humanity had the technical capacity to eliminate hunger and poverty. Humanity’s abuse of the earth looked irreversible, given rampant corporate greed. And the making and sale of weapons, including those capable of mass destruction, was utterly abominable.
I was deeply disturbed by the rise of violent fundamentalism – especially religiously motivated terrorism and counter-terrorism – whether of Jewish, Christian or Islamic origin. There was a deepening clash between the Christian West and the Islamic Middle East. It seemed to me that Christianity and Islam, once truly great, were now in a state of decline. True religious ideals appeared to have weakened, and secularism and economic imperialism had become all-powerful. The conflict between religion and science seemed to strengthen the rise of secularism, at the expense of the universal wisdom contained in religious traditions.
Baha’i Writings cast light on the world and the human condition, as I had come to understand these realities. “How long”, asked Baha’u’llah, “will humanity persist in its waywardness?… How long will injustice continue?… How long will discord agitate the face of society?” (Gleanings 110.1) Elsewhere in these Writings the forms of humanity’s waywardness, injustice and discord are listed as: “religious intolerance… racial animosity… patriotic arrogance… increasing evidences of suspicion, fear and fraud… the spread of terrorism… pursuit after earthly vanities… weakening of family solidarity… degeneracy of art and music… (and) corruption of the press… Humanity is hovering, unshepherded and visionless, on the brink of disaster.” (Shoghi Effendi, The World Order of Baha’u’llah, pp 187-90)
In my pre-Baha’i days I believed that God would not ultimately abandon humanity, but I had no clear sense of how Divine help would come. With this outlook and in this condition, I began studying Baha’i Writings in earnest, and I encountered the figure of Baha’u’llah. “Consort with the followers of all religions” he said, “in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship… Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch… The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.” (Baha’u’llah, Gleanings 43.6 and Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, p 14 and Gleanings 117.1) Though I was duly impressed with these teachings, I was wary of the prospect that Baha’u’llah, like Jesus, was being deified and set up as an absolute authority. I wanted to find some evidence that he was merely human, and that the Baha’i Writings are to be evaluated like any other literature.
As an investigator of the Baha’i Faith I was worried that the ‘unity’ taught by Baha’u’llah was really a restricting kind of ‘uniformity’. I needed to discern whether Baha’is were, perhaps without knowing it, working for the elimination of freedom and diversity. I also wondered whether the principles Baha’u’llah taught, and the institutions he established, were merely a dreamy utopianism without realistic hope of being implemented. But despite these doubts, Baha’u’llah’s words and actions still spoke to me, and therefore questions about his spiritual rank became more pressing. What is the status of Baha’u’llah’s teaching? Is it merely food for thought… updated wisdom of the ages… a tactful compromise between ancient guidance and today’s needs? Is it simply eloquent speech… inspirational spiritual poetry… creative insight… or wise counsel? Without fully realizing it at the time, I was trying to discern whether Baha’u’llah’s teaching was truly Revelatory and destined to be transformative for humanity.
And then I learned, rather shockingly, that all of his utterances were spontaneous. His recorded talks and dictations were un-researched and un-edited – not crafted by trial-and-error in the ordinary human ways of speech-making – nor were his words honed at a desk in a study for publication. “Be generous in prosperity, and thankful in adversity” said Baha’u’llah on the spur of the moment, advising a departing son. “Be worthy of the trust of thy neighbor, and look upon him with a bright and friendly face. Be a treasure to the poor, an admonisher to the rich, an answerer of the cry of the needy… Be as a lamp unto them that walk in darkness, a joy to the sorrowful, a sea for the thirsty, a haven for the distressed… Let integrity and uprightness distinguish all thine acts… Be an ornament to the countenance of truth, a crown to the brow of fidelity, a pillar of the temple of righteousness, a breath of life to the body of mankind, an ensign of the hosts of justice, a luminary above the horizon of virtue, a dew to the soil of the human heart, an ark upon the ocean of knowledge… a fruit upon the tree of humility. (Baha’u’llah, Gleanings 130.1)
The beauty and richness and profundity of this passage overwhelmed me. I felt immediately that I would turn to it again and again throughout my lifetime. If everyone contemplated and cultivated these moral-spiritual truths, our world could be saved. What manner of man could speak this way? What amount of divinity flowed through him? Baha’u’llah said all this, and countless volumes more, without preparation or rehearsal or studious planning. The artistry and eloquence of his teaching did not appear to be merely a style of human creativity, but rather, it seemed to be a flow of divinely inspired speech.
Due to my lifelong quest for an ever wider and truer Big Picture, the concept of ‘wisdom’ has been a regular focus of mine since high school. And now I found my view of wisdom shifting and expanding through my encounter with Baha’u’llah’s teachings. Before, I saw wisdom as a kind of moral-spiritual intelligence that showed itself in ethical behavior and the ability to offer practical advice. From the study of philosophy and theology, I also saw wisdom as embodied in classical treatises and scriptural texts on the purpose of human life, both for individuals and societies as a whole. But Baha’u’llah’s writings were drawing my attention to Wisdom with a capital ‘W’ – the Divine Spirit or the Word of God – what the Jews called ‘Hokmah’ and the Greeks called ‘Sophia’ and the ‘Logos’. Could this world-shaping Source of spiritual learning and higher aspiration be coming to humanity once again through Baha’u’llah?
As I became more familiar with Baha’u’llah’s utterances, and as they began to re-shape my thoughts and reflections, a different set of questions arose. Who is he? What is his station? Is his guidance truly from God? I found myself generating various hypotheses, attempts to assess Baha’u’llah’s rightful place in religious history and in today’s world.
Could he be a new kind of universal thinker, perhaps a more spiritual Plato or Hegel? Could he be a social visionary ahead of his time – like Rousseau or Tolstoy?
A moral exemplar – like Gandhi or Martin Luther King? An interfaith bridge-builder like Thomas Merton or Thich Nhat Hanh? A gifted poet like Gibran or Tagore? A vibrant symbol of compassion in our world like the Dalai Lama?
Yet more images and possible comparisons occurred to me. Could Baha’u’llah be a genius with inborn powers, sort of a religious Mozart or Einstein? Could he be a reformer and modernizer of Islam like Muhammad Abduh, but more global in outlook? A universal Sufi like Rumi, but with a wider range of themes? A syncretist – one who gathers and selects the best of East and West – like Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh faith? A prophetic voice for the West only – Jews, Christians and Muslims – but without much relevance for Hindus, Buddhists and Chinese people? I tried to test these hypotheses with further reading and research, with deeper reflection and contemplation, as well as with pointed questions to my new friends in the Baha’i community. This sifting, sorting and scrutinizing was by no means a painless process. It was an anxious struggle to re-arrange my inner furniture so many times and in so many ways. It often felt like sweating blood, because my whole religious and intellectual orientation, my career, and my way of being in the world were at stake.
My tentative conclusion was that Baha’u’llah’s vision and power could not be accounted for with any of the ordinary explanations of human capacity and excellence. But there were still other queries that emerged for me. Like many liberal-minded people today, I wondered why there have been so many religions, if Truth is ultimately One? Why do we need another religion, if universal wisdom is already available? How do we explain the apparent contradictions among the major religious traditions? How do we sort out the still relevant and timely from the outdated and superstitious? And what about all those religious conflicts and wars – perhaps the greatest atrocities ever? These are among the most vexing issues in humanity’s recorded history.
To my shock, I discovered that Baha’u’llah actually answered these age-old questions in a very persuasive and comprehensive way, in a book he revealed in just two days, “The Book of Certitude.” He taught that the Messengers and Manifestations of God – including Moses, Krishna, Zoroaster, Buddha, Christ and Muhammad – were united, or one in their divine aspects and spiritual teachings. And now, according to Baha’i teachings, we must add Baha’u’llah to this list of world-transformers, and other divinely guided Teachers will be sent to humanity in the future. Their authority is given to them by God, which is to say: they each have full and equal access to divine wisdom and power. Yet they have been distinct in their ‘human temples’ – historically separate, addressing quite varied cultural settings – though prophetically linked and part of the same providential plan. Religion, then, is ultimately one, but it must be renewed periodically as humanity evolves. We need a new religion when the previous one loses its moral and spiritual power. The various Revelations have been progressive and of divine origin, always elevating humanity with a renewal of civilization after periods of steep decline.
Religious leaders, taught Baha’u’llah, almost always resist the new Revelation, because it threatens their social status while exposing their ignorance, egotism and corruption. Some of the differences between religious traditions are divinely sanctioned, and these include new social guidelines which justifiably abrogate earlier ones, in response to humanity’s developing capacities. Other religious differences are the result of human misinterpretation, prejudice, institutional rigidity and abuse of power. For example, the ritual, theological and sectarian differences, which humanity fashions over time, tend to become increasingly narrow and exclusionary, while deviating ever further from the spirit of the original Revelation. Progressive Revelation, taught Baha’u’llah, is the divine way of renewing spiritual and social guidance – educating and uplifting humanity in stages, preparing us to co-establish an ever-advancing global civilization. These teachings, if true, seem to unify humanity’s spiritual heritage and explain apparent contradictions.
Despite all this exciting learning and these burgeoning insights, several stumbling-blocks vexed me. Baha’is said that homosexuality is a ‘spiritual affliction’ that could be overcome by spiritual means. But I had some gay and lesbian friends and did not perceive them as any more ‘afflicted’ than my heterosexual friends. In response to my queries Baha’is reminded me that followers of Baha’u’llah are forbidden to maintain prejudices against homosexuals, nor are gay people barred from membership in the Baha’i community. They told me there are gay Baha’is in good standing, addressing their sexual orientation challenges in the same way as all conscientious persons face their limitations and weaknesses, striving to implement divine guidance, and supporting healthy family life, while building ever larger and more united communities. Though not completely satisfied with these replies, I kept investigating the Baha’i Faith more broadly. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that mysteries would always remain, and I did not need to understand every item in the Baha’i Revelation to embrace it as a whole.
Another stumbling-block for me was that the highest authoritative body in the Baha’i Faith – the Universal House of Justice – consisted of nine men only, and this would remain the case throughout this dispensation. Baha’is told me that women were exonerated from the burden of serving on this senior institution, and that the reason for this would become clear in the future. I found no Baha’i women who felt ‘excluded’ by this arrangement, and many told me that women will be essential in the establishing of world peace, as well as in the implementation of all other Baha’i principles. Some Baha’is speculated that the Universal House of Justice may in the future face a kind of ‘spiritual warfare’ with its critics and detractors, and that men are perhaps more suited to this harsh reality. Again, though not completely satisfied with these points, I continued to explore the Baha’i Faith as a whole. I had faith that this mystery would be much better understood as humanity matured.
Another stumbling-block was the Baha’i view of life after death. I had long considered myself an open-minded agnostic on questions regarding the afterlife. Many beliefs about heaven and hell seemed quite self-serving and superstitious, and far removed from a scientific worldview. But then in the mid-1990s, several convergences brought a major change in my view of this world and the next. A good friend of mine was in a serious car-accident and nearly died. Before this, his stance on life after death was similar to mine. When he reported seeing ‘celestial helpers’ in a ‘tunnel leading toward a Being of Light’ and ‘reviewing his life’ from a ‘divinely assisted perspective’ – I was already deeply ensconced in Near-Death Experience literature, while also studying comparative afterlife views from the world’s religions, including the Baha’i Faith. All of these accounts of the Higher World seemed startlingly complementary. I became a believer in what Baha’is call the Abha Kingdom – the higher spiritual world, the destiny of our souls.
Another stumbling-block was the Baha’i claim that Abdul-Baha, the son of their founder, was a ‘perfect human being’. How could a merely mortal human being be a flawless exemplar of every Baha’i ideal? Isn’t ‘imperfection’ among the distinctive characteristics of human nature? Don’t we all fall far short of our ideals? I decided to read all the stories I could find about Abdul-Baha and thereby prove to myself that he was not perfect. Surely I could find some evidence of laziness, selfishness, irritation, impatience, regretful mistakes, prejudice, rigidity or arrogance. But in my research and reflection I could find no such qualities in this man, and this was perplexing and even upsetting! How disorienting and challenging to discover that everything Abdul-Baha said and did was indeed loving, wise, fair, generous, compassionate, peaceful and effective in making our world better – providing a glimpse of humanity’s coming day of spiritual maturity.
For some reason, it was easier for me to accept the possibility of Baha’u’llah’s perfection than Abdul-Baha’s. There was already a place in my worldview for a Prophet or Enlightened One sent to humanity from a Higher Realm to initiate a wave of moral and cultural advancement. This is what came in the wake of Moses, Buddha, Jesus and Muhammad. Due to my fascination with parallels among the world religions, I became especially interested in the relationship between Jesus and Baha’u’llah. Were they comparable? How did the Baha’i Faith view the station of Jesus? Baha’u’llah taught:
“Know thou that when the Son of Man (Jesus) yielded up His breath to God, the whole creation wept with a great weeping. By sacrificing Himself, however, a fresh capacity was infused into all created things. Its evidences, as witnessed in all the peoples of the earth, are now manifest before thee. The deepest wisdom which the sages have uttered, the profoundest learning which any mind hath unfolded, the arts which the ablest hands have produced, the influence exerted by the most potent of rulers, are but manifestations of the quickening power released by His transcendent, His all-pervasive, and resplendent Spirit. We testify that when He came into the world, He shed the splendor of His glory upon all created things. Through Him the leper recovered from the leprosy of perversity and ignorance. Through Him, the unchaste and wayward were healed. Through His power, born of Almighty God, the eyes of the blind were opened, and the soul of the sinner sanctified….He it is Who purified the world. Blessed is the man who, with a face beaming with light, hath turned towards Him.” (Baha’u’llah, Gleanings, 36.1-3)
This teaching seemed to provide good evidence that the same God who sent Jesus, probably also sent Baha’u’llah.
Yet another stumbling-block was how the major Eastern religions – Hinduism and Buddhism – fit into the Baha’i scheme of Progressive Revelation. I could see how Judaism had undergone its own set of sequential prophets from Noah to Daniel, and how Christianity was a sequel to the Jewish Revelation, and how Islam was a sequel to both Judaism and Christianity, and then how the Baha’i Faith was a sequel to all of the Abrahamic or Western religions. But did the Baha’i Faith show any continuity with
Eastern insights of the Hindu-Buddhist worldview? And if not, how could it claim that a new world order was coming – a global civilization built on, and fulfilling, all previously revealed systems of guidance?
Then I found two books casting considerable light on these questions: “Hinduism and the Baha’i Faith” and “Buddhism and the Baha’i Faith”, both by Moojan Momen. To my surprise, these books demonstrated clearly how Krishna, Buddha and Baha’u’llah taught essentially the same basic moral and spiritual lessons. They offered either the same or complementary principles and social guidelines – while using distinctive metaphors and parables adapted to their cultural and historical settings. They all emphasized such virtues or universal principles as love, compassion, responsibility, service, wisdom, peace and justice. And the overall shape and function of their missions were quite parallel. So it seemed to me that a good case could be made that Krishna, Buddha and Baha’u’llah were all like Divine Educators who modified their curricula to the various needs of their students, classrooms and the contingencies of their separate times and places.
But more haunting questions emerged for me, ponderings and possibilities both threatening and exhilarating. Could Baha’u’llah’s teaching really be the Revelation of a new message for humanity from the Author of Creation? Is it the Word of God in its most recent form?… a renewed Divine Covenant with humanity? If so, then his significance is not being exaggerated by his believers. Could his teaching be, as Hindus and Buddhists might conceive it, the turning again of the Wheel of Dharma?… or Cosmic Truth revitalized? Could his teaching be Glad Tidings universalized for all faith communities?… the Holy Spirit once again revivifying our world ?… the Grand Redemptive Scheme of God shaping civilization anew?… the fulfillment of the Prophecies of All Ages? If so, then Baha’u’llah’s significance, like his name the ‘Glory of God’, transcends all other figures of history.
Now this question – the possibility of prophetic fulfillment – led to another bout of intense wonder on my part. Could he be the fulfillment of Jewish prophecies – the long-awaited Messiah?… the Anointed of God?… the Lord of Hosts? Isaiah promised a saving figure with “the government upon his shoulder.. and his name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9.6) Daniel envisioned “one like a Son of Man… given dominion and glory and kingdom, that all peoples, nations and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion.” (Daniel 7.13-14) Was he also the fulfillment of Christian prophecies – the Return of Christ bringing the New Millennium, a New Heaven and New Earth? The author of the Book of Revelation saw a city with “no need of sun or moon… for the glory of God is its light… and by this light shall the nations walk; and the kings of the earth shall bring their glory into it.” (Revelation 21.23-24)
I found other prophecies that seemed to point to Baha’u’llah. Could he be the One referred to in Native prophecies as the Great Light from the East?… the harbinger of Rainbow Nations?… the Hoop of All Hoops bringing all peoples together? Could he be the fulfillment of Zoroastrian prophecies – the World Benefactor inaugurating the Triumph of Good over Evil?… bringing the Final Restoration to humanity? Or the fulfillment of Hindu prophecies – the Return of Krishna or the Kalki Avatar who will usher in the New Golden Age? Or the fulfillment of Buddhist prophecies – Maitreya, the Buddha of Universal Fellowship who will build the Pure Land? Or the fulfillment of Chinese prophecy – the True Man or Equal of God who will bring the Grand Unity and the Great Peace?
Having become more familiar with Islam, I considered the prophecies in the Qur’an. Could Baha’u’llah also be the Promised One foreseen by Muhammad?… the Descent of Jesus?… the Great Announcement?… the Day of Renewal? The Qur’an mentions two ‘trumpet blasts’ which sound very much like the forerunner of Baha’u’llah, the Bab, as well as Baha’u’llah himself. “The Trumpet will just be sounded, when all that are in the heavens and the earth will swoon… Then a second Trumpet will be sounded… and the earth will shine with the glory of its Lord.” (Qur’an 39.68) If the Christian Faith could arise from a Jewish context, why couldn’t the Baha’i Faith arise from a Muslim context?
I was beginning to see how Baha’is could feel justified in claiming that Baha’u’llah was the fulfillment of all previous prophecies of the Promised One ushering in a Promised Day. In Baha’i firesides I was hearing that Baha’u’llah has provided humanity with the needed guidance, the capacity, as well as the needed institutions to transform the whole world for the better. In coming decades, generations and centuries humanity will show signs of increasing maturity, and we will gradually make of the earth a mirror-image of heaven. It was starting to look to me as if Baha’u’llah might be who he said he was – the Promised One of All Ages… the Manifestation of God for the age of humanity’s maturity… the Spiritual Physician for today’s ills… the new Divine Educator for a united world… the Unifier and Redeemer of all peoples… the Architect of a New World Order and an ever-advancing civilization… the Establisher of global peace, justice and prosperity.
Among the pleasant surprises in my investigation of the Baha’i Faith was discovering the number, the variety, and the profundity of prayers provided by its central figures – the Bab, Baha’u’llah and Abdul-Baha. One of these prayers in particular I returned to frequently, because it seemed to be designed for a person just like me – one aspiring to serve as an interfaith diplomat and bridge-builder.
“O Thou Provider!
The dearest wish of this servant of Thy Threshold is to behold the friends of East and West in close embrace; to see all the members of human society gathered with love in a single great assemblage, even as individual drops of water collected in one mighty sea; to behold them all as birds in one garden of roses, as pearls of one ocean, as leaves of one tree, as rays of one sun.
Thou art the Mighty, the Powerful, and Thou art the God of strength, the Omnipotent, the All-Seeing.” (Abdul-Baha, Baha’i Prayers, p 182)
It is difficult for me to name a single decisive turning-point in my journey toward the Baha’i Faith, but the following epiphany certainly comes close. One evening in the late 1990s I was reading Baha’u’llah’s “Hidden Words” – some passages ‘descending from the realm of glory’ and ‘revealed to the Prophets of old’. Yet, here and now, these words were ‘clothed in the garment of brevity’ for my personal convenience and benefit. Something happened to me, and for me, while reading words like these:
O Son of Being! Love Me, that I may love thee. If thou lovest Me not, My love can in no wise reach thee… Thy heart is My home; sanctify it for My descent. Thy spirit is My place of revelation; cleanse it for My manifestation… Noble have I created thee, yet thou hast abased thyself. Rise then unto that for which thou wast created… Rejoice in the gladness of thine heart, that thou mayest be worthy to meet Me and mirror forth My beauty.
It felt as if the full meaning of these messages filled the room, and as if I were in the midst of a resounding spiritual orchestra, surrounded by palpable and vibrant Power and Wisdom from above. I did not feel as if I were reading the words of a merely human author, nor simply listening to persuasive ideas. Rather, I was penetrated by the Divine Voice… quickened… called to account….and summoned in a new direction.
Soon after this experience, I realized my Unitarian ministry was coming to an end, and I would join the Baha’i community and seek a new career. A plan crystalized: I will ask my congregation if they will accept me as their minister for another year and a half – until the end of August, 2000 – at which time I will resign and become a community interfaith educator. They accepted this proposal, and my relatively long goodbye process with Unitarians began. It was a period of bittersweet reflection and leave-taking on one hand, as well as a time of exciting preparation and anticipation on the other. The actual words of my declaration took place in the Toronto area at a Baha’i studies conference. As the moderator of a panel in a plenary session on September 1, 2000, I introduced myself with these words: “Yesterday was the last day of my career as a Unitarian minister. Today is the first day of my life as a Baha’i.” The audience of about 800 people applauded this announcement.
The next day some distinguished Baha’is took me to breakfast, and I had a chance to share and sort out my complex feelings. I was happy to have embraced God’s revelation of world unity and to have a firmer grasp of the Big Picture, but I felt overwhelmed with the challenge of learning much more about this international Faith, and with the responsibility of making a contribution to this global transformation process. What sorts of roles and tasks were appropriate for me as a new Baha’i? How would I launch a career as a community interfaith educator? Which of my former friends and colleagues would I be able to keep? How could I receive graciously all the love and bountiful favors now flowing in upon me? My old self had not fully died, and my new self was not fully born.
Let me now begin to close this story of my religious quest with a brief summary of the first two decades of my life as a Baha’i. First of all, I felt my Unitarian friends and colleagues, as well as my interfaith associates all deserved an explanation of what I had decided and why. I told them I felt called to work toward world unity with others, as before, but now as a Baha’i… that Unitarianism, though it has clear strengths, now seemed too partisan, individualistic and cut off from humanity’s revealed guidance… that I wanted to commit myself to something deeper than ‘respect for diversity’, and actually wanted to help as many as possible to ‘embrace unity’… that I had discovered the essential oneness of God, humanity and religion… that I believed in the universal principles taught by Baha’u’llah, and saw Him as the Manifestation of God for this Day… that I affirmed the consultative institutions that His official interpreters designed to bring about an ever-advancing global civilization.
I also shared some words attributed to Mother Teresa of Calcutta, because they conveyed important aspects of the soul-struggle I had just endured. “People are often un-reasonable, self-centered and fail to understand. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies. Be successful anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may use it against you and cheat you. Be honest anyway. What you spend years building, someone might destroy overnight. Build anyway. If you find serenity and happiness they may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today, people often forget tomorrow. Do good anyway. Even if you give the world the best you have, it may never be enough. Give the world the best you have anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”
At the very first Nineteen Day Feast I attended as a Baha’i, there was a by-election because an assembly member had recently moved from the area. I was elected onto the Spiritual Assembly in his place, and I continued to be elected onto various Local Spiritual Assemblies for the next 19 years, often serving as secretary for these assemblies. This has been a very steep learning curve, but my prayer to become more informed of how the Baha’i world actually functions was judiciously answered. Several times I had the privilege and bounty of attending National Conventions as an official delegate, participating in broader cost-to-coast consultations, and helping to elect the National Spiritual Assembly of Canada.
Among the early discoveries in my Baha’i prayer life was a paradox: using the prayer books every day brought me closer to God in some respects, but it also reminded me of how far short I fell of God’s expectations. Prayers have functioned as a mirror to my soul in its varying states of receptivity, but they have also provided a telescope to distant sources of light and direction. Perhaps this is no stranger than the dual reality that we are loved and forgiven as children of God, but we are also called to use our substantial gifts to contribute positively to our world family’s progress.
I engaged in the core activities of the successive Five Year Teaching Plans that had been devised by the Universal House of Justice – participating in and facilitating a fair number of study circles and devotional gatherings – while continuing my personal study of Baha’i Writings and messages from the senior institutions of the Baha’i world community. I also helped with occasional firesides and some small service projects. Because I had been a Unitarian minister who converted to the Baha’i Faith over a period of ten years, many more Baha’is in the Vancouver area knew my name than I could name in return.
To implement my plan to become a ‘community interfaith educator’ I began designing and offering courses on world religions for the larger public. Most of these courses consisted of 6 weekly two-hour sessions on some aspect of Progressive Revelation. My earliest such courses were called “Teachers of Humanity” and “Founders of Faith.” They were sponsored and hosted by university continuing studies programs, libraries, churches, recreation centers, seniors programs, adult education programs offering evening classes in high schools, as well as Baha’i assemblies. The average group-size of these courses was from 15 to 20 participants, but some were as large as 50. I offered about 10 courses per year for the first two decades of my Baha’i life, and they all generated spirited and insightful discussions.
Some of the other themes and titles of these community courses – showing the development of my interests and learning-teaching priorities – have included:
“Sister Faiths: Jewish & Christian, Hindu & Buddhist, Muslim & Baha’i”… “Virtues & Universal Guidelines: A Comparative Study”… “Jewish Legacies”… “Islamic Legacies”… “Eastern Religions”… “Prophecies & Visions: A Comparative Study”… “Why Do Civilizations Rise & Fall?”… “Hinges of History”… “Centuries of Darkness & Light”… “Philosophers of History”… “Evolution: Unfolding Life, Culture & Spirit”… “Religion, Spirituality & Science”… “Women Mystics”… “The Gate & The Glory: The Bab & Baha’u’llah”… “One World: Tracing an Idea Across the Ages”… “The Afterlife: Multi-Faith & Multi-Disciplinary Views”… and most recently “Spiritual Renaissances: Creative Episodes in the Drama of History.”
These courses have provided me with a way to deepen and refine my understanding of humanity’s progress in discerning the Big Picture and expanding our circles of concern. Who participates in these courses? A few have been Unitarians, like my good friends Ev and Joan Morris, who showed some appreciation for my new career. A few have been Baha’i’s, who helped me evaluate and revise my approach. And a few have been interfaith advocates from various backgrounds. But the two largest categories have been liberal Christians who are open to learning from the wide-angle lenses of world religions and world history, along with the spiritually curious who delight in finding ‘common threads’ while anticipating a planetary breakthrough toward world peace.
As a Baha’i, the shift in my political outlook seems noteworthy. Once I was a liberal with socialist leanings, but under the guidance of Baha’i Writings I have become a moderate globalist with economically cooperative and environmental leanings. I now recognize – whereas I did not before – that conservatives have their truths and respectable values. Political parties do not eliminate conflict, but rather, institutionalize it. We must learn to think and act in wider dimensions than parties, platforms and ideologies. In order to actually resolve global issues and humanity’s problems, we must all learn to consult in ever wider circles, transcend social prejudices, and build together the architecture of Global Governance.
To stay in good touch with my family-of-birth in Southern California over the last few decades, I began making extended visits with them – each visit 4 to 6 weeks long – in the winter and summer of every year. It was utterly lovely and joyful to have this kind of quality time with my mother, step-father, sisters, brother-in-law, nieces, nephews, uncle and aunt. This also gave me the opportunity for focused research and writing on my courses, as well as two manuscripts – “Founders of Faith: The Parallel Lives of God’s Messengers” and “Eye to the Ages: The Rise, Fall and Progressive Renewal of Civilization.” The first was published in the year 2010, and the second has yet to be published, though both of these works have enriched the content of my community courses. My step-father, Larry Williams, has been most generous over the years, allowing me to use his computer and library during these many family visits; and I have appreciated his fascination with many countries, languages and cultures.
Some lovely Baha’i friendships have developed for me during these years – including Barbara Matthews and Sylvester Scott in Temecula, California, and the Honorable Judge Dorothy Wright Nelson in Pasadena. They provided me with wonderful opportunities to offer firesides and public talks over the years, and to contribute interfaith understanding and cooperation. These southern sojourns also enabled me to deepen my lifelong friendship with Ted Coonfield from college days (now living in Portland, Oregon), getting to know his dear wife Meg Nightingale, as well as their Baha’i friends, Diane and Julius Garga (now living in the Sacramento, California area).
As I approached my sixtieth year, given my track-record of troubled and failed relationships, I assumed that marriage was simply out of the question for me. I was fully prepared to remain single for the rest of my days on earth. But Providence had other plans, and I befriended a very active Baha’i woman named Wendy Darkoh through some of my community courses. I learned about her family, including her two adult children, and her nursing profession, as well as her extensive Baha’i experience and lifelong service. Our communication grew steadily clearer and warmer, our relationship deepened, and we were married in 2007. Our wedding celebration was a spirited gathering of families and friends with Christian, Baha’i and Unitarian backgrounds. Our honeymoon was an enriching, illuminating Baha’i pilgrimage to the World Centre in Haifa, Israel.
Wendy and I lead active and fulfilling Baha’i lives, hosting many gatherings, attending many events, deepening in the Writings, trying to do our share of Baha’i teaching, while aligning our activity with guidance from the Universal House of Justice. I have continued with my community courses, with my multicultural and interfaith activities, trying to build widening circles of respect, understanding and cooperation. I have also had the bounty of teaching at two Baha’i summer schools – Green Acre in Eliot, Maine, and Bosch Baha’i School in Santa Cruz, California. Without Wendy’s support, I doubt if my book “Founders of Faith” would have ever reached the publication stage. She is my primary confidante on all significant undertakings. But I must also express gratitude to Baha’i scholars such as Shahrokh Monjazeb, Jack McLean and John Kosltoe for edifying and inspiring me over the years, and encouraging me to move forward with my research, writing and teaching.
As of this present act of composition, in my early 70s, I seem to be entering a new phase of my career. No one will ever hear me use the word ‘retirement’ in reference to myself, because I hope to keep making contributions to human betterment – as well as I can – throughout all of this life and the next. Since I am aging and facing the impending reality of death with all of my peers, I intend to make a study of these phenomena, and bring whatever Big Picture talents I may have to this stage of the human lifespan. So I will keep writing, teaching, facilitating discussion, program-planning and community-building with seniors mostly in mind, as long as my bodily energies allow.
The challenges in today’s world are great, but the opportunities and promises are greater. “This is the Day which past ages and centuries can never rival” said Baha’u’llah. “Peerless is this Day, for it is as the eye to past ages and centuries, and as a light unto the darkness of the times… This Day a door is open wider than both heaven and earth.” (quoted in Advent of Divine Justice, pp 78-79)
Let us walk confidently through this door, eye to eye, heart to heart, hand in hand – contributing our best effort to humanity’s advancement.