Baha'i Perspectives

nadim September 29th, 2008

Few people can fail to recall the horrific events that took place in Rwanda in 1994. In three short months, an estimated 800,000 people were killed in a brutal ethnic conflict, while the majority of the world turned and looked the other way. Since then, the sense of shame that has pervaded the international community with respect to this catastrophe  has been immense, to the point where it now serves as a case study highlighting the moral imperative of intervention when events in a country spiral out of control.

In the aftermath of the genocide, a new constitution was adopted, one that ensured that at least 30% of the members of parliament would be female. Billions of dollars from donors and investors have been flowing into the country. There has been steady economic growth driven by a growth in rural agriculture and skills development, as well as improvements in clean water access and primary health care. And, while serious problems remain — such as the growing divide between rich and poor — it is surely heartening to see such significant improvements in such a short span of time.

And now a little piece of history has been made – a news story which very nearly slipped under the radar (hardly surprising with all the coverage of collapsing banks and looming elections). Just over a week ago, Rwanda became the first country ever to have a majority of women in parliament, with at least 55% of MP positions going to women.

Why might this be regarded as historic? Well, let’s start with the words of Bellancilla Nyonawankusi, a Rwandan election official, as quoted on News24:

All Rwandans have a role to play in the reconciliation, but women can do it better than men… They are the ones who were the first to be affected by the genocide and they are the ones who are bringing up the children.

This critical connection between war, motherhood and the raising of children was emphasized in a moving passage from Abdu’l-Baha, while He travelled the Western world expounding the teachings of the Baha’i Faith. It was part of a talk delivered to a Women’s Suffrage gathering in New York, in 1912:

The most momentous question of this day is international peace and arbitration, and universal peace is impossible without universal suffrage. Children are educated by the women. The mother bears the troubles and anxieties of rearing the child, undergoes the ordeal of its birth and training. Therefore, it is most difficult for mothers to send to the battlefield those upon whom they have lavished such love and care. Consider a son reared and trained twenty years by a devoted mother. What sleepless nights and restless, anxious days she has spent! Having brought him through dangers and difficulties to the age of maturity, how agonizing then to sacrifice him upon the battlefield! Therefore, the mothers will not sanction war nor be satisfied with it. So it will come to pass that when women participate fully and equally in the affairs of the world, when they enter confidently and capably the great arena of laws and politics, war will cease; for woman will be the obstacle and hindrance to it. This is true and without doubt.

(Abdu’l-Baha, The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 134)

It is clear that the world is still playing catch-up to these words, and women everywhere continue to struggle for an equal voice in the decision-making arena.  But how poignant it is that a small, mountainous country in East Africa — which has endured so much recent agony — should suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, be showing us the way.

Tags: motherhood, politics, Rwanda, war, women

• Baha'i Concepts , News & Current Affairs
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leila September 25th, 2008

In my last post, I introduced a dilemma that had swum through my mind, periodically, for the last few years: motherhood and career, and how to do both meaningfully.

I brought up the concept of a fragmented mindset, and found the following quotation, selected from the fifth book of the Ruhi Institute series, to be enlightening:

If we are not careful and adopt such a fragmented approach to our lives, we can create all kinds of dichotomies that are largely imaginary. Work, leisure, family life, spiritual life, physical health, intellectual pursuits, individual development, collective progress, and so on become pieces that together make up our existence. When we accept such divisions as real, we feel pulled in many directions, trying to respond to what we consider to be the demands of these different facets of life. We are bewildered by apparently conflicting aims…

It seems, in twenty-first century Western society, that balancing motherhood (rather than parenthood, but that’s another discussion) and career seems to have this awful, groaning, weighty, “How in the world do we solve this awful problem” label attached to it.  I did a simple Google search, and the images I saw more or less fell into two categories: The angelic pregnant woman cradling her blossoming belly, one the one hand; on the other were frantic messages about “surrendering to motherhood” and the like.  But the more I think about living life in an integrated fashion, the less I look at it as achieving a balance, and more as a means by which I might embrace my (future) children and my career as part of one whole.

I admit, it’s difficult for me to assess this charged issue from the perspective of an unmarried young woman whose career has barely sprouted. What I have realized, however, is that an integrated framework of thinking, while far more difficult, is what we as humans must strive for. And as I look at who I want to be, I begin to question why motherhood and career seem to be so mutually exclusive. I question society’s definition of success — wealth, power, prestige — and have started to redefine what success means for me.

As a product of the college-race generation, ever seeking the brand-name university and the impressive degree, it’s difficult for me to un-do years of such socialization. But I wonder if there might be a balance between, on the hand, society’s perception of the mother — an indefatigable chocolate-chip cookie machine who lives to shuttle her children from soccer practice to violin lessons (an exaggeration, but it exists) — and, on the other, the stereotypical absent working mother, who arrives home just in time to tuck her children into bed. Perhaps if we really began to look at parenthood as raising up inherently noble individuals committed to earnestly working toward the betterment of society, and vigilant of their own spiritual growth, these decisions might become a bit less stressful. A future-orientated vision, mindful of creating a just society, might make us — men and women alike — consider parenthood to be less a sacrifice, and more a privilege.

Abdu’l-Baha states:

The purport is this, that to train the character of humankind is one of the weightiest commandments of God, and the influence of such training is the same as that which the sun exerteth over tree and fruit. Children must be most carefully watched over, protected and trained; in such consisteth true parenthood and parental mercy.

***

To be frank, I still don’t have the motherhood-and-career thing fully figured out, and I haven’t even begun to address the imbalanced way with which most societies view women in the context of parenthood.  I have, however, been inspired by the women I’ve known who have done it, with creativity and ingenuity. To be sure, they sacrificed some of those impressive titles, positions, and opportunities.  But it seems that with every sacrifice they made while raising children, greater rewards emerged in their career.

There’s no fixed formula or recipe for being a parent with a career. All I can discern is that sacrifice, a little creativity, and a healthy sense of purpose and perspective are the best we can do to raise up a generation of spiritually-minded children, in a world where a framework for parenthood is still in its infancy.

Tags: career, motherhood, Ruhi books

• General Interest , Society
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geoffrey September 22nd, 2008

Sometimes I think back to when I was younger; well, I mean, I only just turned 24. So “younger” is a relative term. I guess also with turning 24 I think of myself less of as a “youth” and certainly not a “pre-youth” or “junior youth”. I’ve hit an age that, at least in my mind, brings with it connotations of blooming adulthood, where life may become more serious. But certainly, how you take life doesn’t have to. In this third post, I promised to talk briefly on the power of youth with regards to language.

I see that one of my co-posters, Negin, has recently published a post entitled “Youth Can Move the World”. I’ll make sure that repetition is limited or negated all together. What I want to talk about today is “horizontal thinking”. Recently I watched a YouTube video of Thomas Friedman on his book “The World is Flat“. He was giving a keynote address at MIT, and though he covered a lot of material, some of which I did not agree with (but this is for another post perhaps), he did touch on one thing that I was really able to latch on to – it was this process of “horizontal thinking“.

The main thrust of this conjecture about the state of the world is that growth in opportunity, coupled with the integration and growing connectivity of the world, has basically made it flat. And that a person’s ability to access a much larger market, or to interact with a variety of other people across the world, has increased at an incredible rate. Thus, our orientation with respect to the rest of the world is side-to-side rather than top-down, which is a break from traditional vertical thinking (where hierarchy rules and systems of class dominance are perpetuated). Horizontal thinking allows us to see greater opportunities for equality and implies devolution of authority and an increased sense of autonomy for the individual.

Now, in one respect, this does nothing to stem the tide of, what a good friend has called, the cult of individualism, but what it does do is allow greater chances for influence — particularly for youth.

I’ve also recently been getting increasingly fascinated with the medium of podcasting. I mean, I’m only about three years late in becoming interested in this form of media. But it’s never too late I guess. And I look at blogging too, of course. Here I am, writing to… no one and everyone… about things just spinning around in my head… and I hope against hope that it is somehow interesting to someone, somewhere.

And now we find ourselves in a burgeoning world of global connectivity, creating these golden threads of light that circumnavigate the world — creating what though? That we can only guess — what will be the outcome of all this? The only thing we can do is to grasp it, use it and exploit it to its fullest and make sure that this mode of connection can help bring us together.

Where are the poets? We are here; we are everywhere.

This servant appealeth to every diligent and enterprising soul to exert his utmost endeavour and arise to rehabilitate the conditions in all regions and to quicken the dead with the living waters of wisdom and utterance, by virtue of the love he cherisheth for God, the One, the Peerless, the Almighty, the Beneficent.

(Baha’u'llah, Tablets of Baha’u'llah, p. 172)

It would be exhaustive at this point to speak of the power of youth, about their potential. What is more important perhaps is how this potential is used. Wisdom and utterance are of the utmost significance with regards to communication. They are the foundations of mutual understanding and beneficial interactions. The youth of today, as we continue to create a virtual mesh over the entirety of the world, need to utilize, must tap into and be educated in these processes that lead to the “quickening” of men.

And especially in a horizontal world, where communication has become the catalyst for so much, the use of wisdom in incredibly important.  There is a passage in the Baha’i writings that says “Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age in which ye live, and certain your deliberations and exigencies upon it”.  The use of language as a means of power, influence and ultimately love are, in reality, among the greatest goals of today, whether we realize it or not.

The youth of today, indeed, are the vanguard of this endeavor.

O SON OF DUST!
The wise are they that speak not unless they obtain a hearing, even as the cup-bearer, who proffereth not his cup till he findeth a seeker, and the lover who crieth not out from the depths of his heart until he gazeth upon the beauty of his beloved. Wherefore sow the seeds of wisdom and knowledge in the pure soil of the heart, and keep them hidden, till the hyacinths of divine wisdom spring from the heart and not from mire and clay…

(Baha’u'llah, The Persian Hidden Words)

Let me retract me initial statement.  I am a youth.  This is where the real power of civilization-building lies.

O Lord! Make this youth radiant, and confer Thy bounty upon this poor creature. Bestow upon him knowledge, grant him added strength at the break of every morn and guard him within the shelter of Thy protection so that he may be freed from error, may devote himself to the service of Thy Cause, may guide the wayward, lead the hapless, free the captives and awaken the heedless, that all may be blessed with Thy remembrance and praise. Thou art the Mighty and the Powerful.

(Abdu’l-Baha, Baha’i Prayers)

Tags: art, language, poetry, youth

• Arts & Culture , Baha'i Concepts , Inspiration
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Baha'i Perspectives September 22nd, 2008

In the past few days, two excellent new web sites have emerged. Take a look…

• Iran Press Watch: The Baha’i Community is an initiative of scholar Ahang Rabbani, in which he translates articles about the situation of the Baha’is in Iran, as and when they appear in the Persian-language press. This site will certainly contribute to the growing awareness worldwide of the plight of Baha’is in the Faith’s country of origin.
• Baha’i Tributes, according to the About section, “is a blog which aims to share appreciations made about the Bahá’í Faith by outstanding figures from the worlds of politics, literature and religion and other fields of human endeavour.” Here is a snippet from one of the entries, the immortal words of Helen Keller.

The philosophy of Bahá’u’lláh deserves the best thought we can give it. I am returning the book so that other blind people who have more leisure than myself may be “shown a ray of Divinity” and their hearts be “bathed in an inundation of eternal love.”

I take this opportunity to thank you for your kind thought of me, and for the inspiration which even the most cursory reading of Bahá’u’lláh’s life cannot fail to impart…

Tags: baha'i, Iran

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iman September 20th, 2008

It’s easy to get sucked into the world, and its routine dealings and material comforts:

Ye are even as the bird which soareth, with the full force of its mighty wings and with complete and joyous confidence, through the immensity of the heavens, until, impelled to satisfy its hunger, it turneth longingly to the water and clay of the earth below it, and, having been entrapped in the mesh of its desire, findeth itself impotent to resume its flight to the realms whence  it came. Powerless to shake off the burden weighing on its sullied wings, that bird, hitherto an inmate of the heavens, is now forced to seek a dwelling-place upon the dust.

(Baha’u'llah, Gleanings from the Writings of Baha’u'llah, p. 326)

Simply put, detachment can be viewed as “not being attached or dependent on something”.  Attachment to things such as wealth, power and people, even close family and friends, can sometimes act as a barrier between us and God.  Detachment implies that, while making use of what is available to us, our relationship with God is left uncompromised; a relationship that is based on service and obedience to his laws. It implies that, regardless of our present degree of prosperity — material or otherwise — our inner drive must essentially be spiritual in nature.

How can detachment make us happier? It obviates that yearning for the temporary, allows for a clearer, moderate and more objective thought process which in turn provides a stepping stone for the development of our spiritual character.

What are some of the ways in which we can increase our detachment? Through prayer, through continual reflection on our every action (and, hence, any necessary correction).  According to a talk delivered by Abdu’l-Baha,  we should exert our “our greatest efforts”, a counsel which is often neglected due to our apathy and personal comfort zones. In prayers revealed by the Central Figures of the Baha’i Faith, attaining the state of detachment is a common admonition — in fact, it is worth noting that entire sections of prayer compilations are devoted to this theme. Prayer is thus an essential element to help us progress towards a higher state of detachment.

Also, through the sorrows and suffering that we encounter, we can become more detached:

Just as the plough furrows the earth deeply, purifying it of weeds and thistles, so suffering and tribulation free man from the petty affairs of this worldly life until he arrives at a state of complete detachment

(Abdu’l-Baha, Paris Talks, p. 177)

In the next part of the this series, we will look into how suffering and sacrifice can provide us with greater contentment.

Tags: detachment, happiness

• Baha'i Concepts , General Interest
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nava September 15th, 2008

I was trying to think of a fancy or clever title for this post. Something to embody and encapsulate evil. But I decided, or realized rather, that evil is just one of those words that needs no embellishment. What it represents is so evocative that it needs no dressing up. Evil: just, evil.

So what images does this evocative word conjure? Of course, this may vary from person to person. Maybe when I say evil the name “Harry” flashes in your mind as you remember the evil ex-boyfriend with wandering eyes. Or perhaps you think “neighbors” as images of your evil, music-blasting-til-4am co-dwellers flood your mindwaves. Whatever the case, particulars aside, there are some general images that are not unlikely candidates for immediate word association.

Try: “devil” “hell” “fire” “witch” “satan” “satanic” “angel” (you know, in case you’re one of those opposite-thought types) “cruel” “demonic” “pain” etc.

I doubt, though I have conducted no sociological studies to confirm the matter, that most people would think of the word “ego” as an immediate correlated term. Ego, evil; evil, ego. Perhaps the association should be stronger than it is.

Somehow, many of us have fooled ourselves into believing that ego is a good thing. That at the root of most of our problems is a lack of confidence, low self-esteem, not enough pride. But maybe that’s not the problem at all. Maybe spending so much time thinking about ourselves is the problem. Good bad negative positive confident insecure— it doesn’t matter. Why should the bulk of our thoughts center on our own small, insignificant selves?

As I mentioned in Part I, in the Bahá’í Faith we do not recognize evil as an independent force that exists on its own. Rather evil represents a turning away from good. A purely materialistic outlook that would have us behave as though we were nothing more than breathing bodies with animalistic needs to satisfy, rather than noble souls with heavenly aspirations to fulfill.

In more concrete terms, one of the greatest hindrances to this turning towards good is our ego. Our ego binds us to the material world. Our ego feeds a competitive nature which seeks to prove that we are better than others rather than in harmony with others. This is not by any means a plea for mediocrity. We should all strive for excellence at all times. But the drive behind this striving should not be to improve our status or inflate the positive perception others have of us. Because that kind of motivation may begin as a seemingly innocent one and can soon turn into greed, dishonesty, and a justification of any and all means for mostly self-serving ends.

So, then, even if we accept that evil is a lower nature within us that we have to struggle against, what about those who seem to fail this struggle on a pretty daily basis—are they “evil”? Are they rejected souls in the sight of God?

In “The Promulgation of Universal Peace”, ‘Abdu’l-Baha explains in beautiful language how we must treat all people, regardless of their condition, and in this passage, he also touches upon the idea of the lower nature of man. He says:

[Some] souls are weak; we must endeavor to strengthen them. Some are ignorant, uninformed of the bounties of God; we must strive to make them knowing. Some are ailing; we must seek to restore them to health. Some are immature as children; they must be trained and assisted to attain maturity. We nurse the sick in tenderness and the kindly spirit of love; we do not despise them because they are ill. Therefore, we must exercise extreme patience, sympathy and love toward all mankind, considering no soul as rejected. If we look upon a soul as rejected, we have disobeyed the teachings of God. God is loving to all. Shall we be unjust or unkind to anyone? Is this allowable in the sight of God? God provides for all. Is it befitting for us to prevent the flow of His merciful provisions for mankind? God has created all in His image and likeness. Shall we manifest hatred for His creatures and servants? This would be contrary to the will of God and according to the will of Satan, by which we mean the natural inclinations of the lower nature. This lower nature in man is symbolized as Satan — the evil ego within us, not an evil personality outside.

Maybe the desire to label others, to brand them as rejected, evil, incurable, is another manifestation of our own evil inclinations. Maybe we feel better about ourselves when we can condemn others. Because if my neighbor Becca is a gossip and a rampant liar, my occasional white lies aren’t all that bad, right? I’m not all that bad, right? In fact, I’m awesome. Not like that lying, spattling wench, Becca.

And so it goes.

And we so we must find the balance. Not to dwell on the flaws of others to make ourselves feel good, and simply not to dwell on ourselves- period. We should be aware of our strengths and weaknesses but not be prideful due to the former or feel deflated by the latter.

When we center our thoughts on God, when we work hard to inspect our motives and behave more selflessly, then will we be apart from evil.

Tags: good & evil

• Baha'i Concepts , General Interest , Society
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leila September 12th, 2008

When I was in college, I spent an autumn term doing an internship in Washington, D.C. Away from my native California, with its parking-lot highways and taquerias, I felt at once at home, yet in a different world. The dynamism of life — the daily scramble for the metro every morning; the wonder at which I witnessed the swift transition from suffocating humidity to icy snow in mere months; the philosophical discussions I had at nights with fellow interns — made me never want to leave.

One discussion in particular surfaces in my mind every so often.

There we were, the three of us — myself, and two other female interns. One, an American-born Indian, who lamented the dearth of eligible Jain young men, as cultural norms insisted she marry someone of her own faith. She was serious, intellectual, and self-conscious all at the same time. The other, an Albanian who turned heads, was a self-proclaimed party girl who drank like a fish until the wee hours, but somehow managed to arrive at work fresh-faced and perfumed every morning.

We sat there in the cafeteria, eating cold turkey-and-mustard sandwiches and feeling very grown-up in our black blazers and heels. And suddenly, we stumbled upon a topic that, at the juncture of our academic and professional lives, seemed at once distant and imminent: motherhood, and career.

The details of the conversation aren’t important, though truthfully I can’t remember them, but it seemed that we went about it circles and lamented mostly. But once that seed was planted, I found myself unconsciously trying to pick up clues as to how to solve one of the pre-eminent questions of the modern age. I wanted to work, to be sure. But I also knew I wanted three children (though the biological clock hadn’t begun ticking), and if I wanted to stay at home with them until they went off to school at age five, and if I waited until the third was five, and I waited a year between each child, well… the math was dizzying, but I knew it would be a lot of years.

“Oh well,” I thought. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

***

Fast-forward three years. I’m sitting ensconced on a sturdy blue couch, a pita-feta-tomato sandwich in one hand, pencil in the other, scribbling my thoughts in my weathered workbook, titled “Releasing the Powers of Junior Youth.” The course is one in a series developed by the Ruhi Institute in Colombia and directed at raising the capacity of its participants to conduct community development work inspired by the teachings of the Bahá’í Faith.

The book with which my study circle and I were deeply engrossed that evening was training us to facilitate junior youth groups, for individuals ages eleven to fifteen, also known as the Junior Youth Empowerment Program. Though the material addresses the spiritual and intellectual potential of junior youth, and the societal forces that engulf adolescents today, I noticed with wonderment that it seemed to speak directly to my young adult self, with all its confusion surrounding the seemingly Big Life Decisions thrust before me.

Take the section on dichotomies, and our tendency as humans to compartmentalize the world:

Reality — physical, social, or spiritual — is too vast to be understood in its entirety. It is not unreasonable, then, to break it up in order to understand it in parts. However, whenever this is done without taking into account the wholeness of reality, difficulties arise. Conflicts among people of different races, colors, nationalities, and religions are examples of some of the many problems that can emerge from a fragmented conception of existence. For, the oneness of humanity is real, and its division along racial, ethnic, and national lines a product of the human mind and the result of historical circumstances.

So, conflict, prejudice, and barriers are an aspect of this compartmentalization on a global scale. This is nothing too new, of course; some have been hinting at the idea of race as an artificial social construct, for example, for a little while.

But what if I suggested that, as much as the seemingly pronounced differences among individuals and groups are dichotomies created by humans, so too is the way that many, especially in the industrialized world, look at our overly-committed lives?

If we are not careful and adopt such a fragmented approach to our lives, we can create all kinds of dichotomies that are largely imaginary. Work, leisure, family life, spiritual life, physical health, intellectual pursuits, individual development, collective progress, and so on become pieces that together make up our existence. When we accept such divisions as real, we feel pulled in many directions, trying to respond to what we consider to be the demands of these different facets of life. We are bewildered by apparently conflicting aims…

***
What implications does this have for motherhood and career?  Some humble thoughts to come, in Part II.

Tags: career, motherhood, Ruhi books

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